#cas just looked kinda dead without them uh

[golby-moon]

whoa check out this dumb comic that's definitely not just an excuse to draw Cas in flannel again (he's a Winchester okay?)

he's not here to perch on Dean's shoulder guys just take a nap on it. also ignore the phone idk how to draw phones. or couches. or people uh oh

(02/21/24)

[kerryweaverlesbian]

for the ask thing->😅🥺🤡😈🛒✨️💌❌️👀🧠🤲✅️ (for the 🧠 i choose cas hehe)

omg thats so many but 👉👈 yk

mwuah <3

I just spent a FULL half hour trying to find the post this was from and I finally found it by remembering I reblogged it from @castielsprostate and getting to August 6th from another post and scrolling down to august 4th from there. Anon if you're out there....my answer is crossing time and space to reach you....also BIG KISS FOR Y9OU AS WELL

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

I'll be honest, I think this one, ineffable husbands observatory date was kinda cowardly haha. In it I pretend like Aziraphale wasn't fully about to shoot a kid. I think I should have let that be a true moment of darkness! These days I wouldn't shy away from it I think.

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

uargh. 'I don't need to be taken care of' 'but I WANT to take care of you'. Kills me dead every time.

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

haha almost every fic I write has something that made me laugh!! An undervalued one, from my Jo/Bela heist fic:

She doesn’t get like this. She doesn’t get distracted on the job, she doesn’t get flustered over sly little compliments, she doesn’t want to be seen. Why did it have to be here, now, on her biggest job in years? “You know,” Jo says, unperturbed by the mental anguish she was causing, biting off the end of the thread with her teeth, “since we’re partners, we should get matching balaclavas.” And why was it for someone so stupid? “All balaclavas are matching,” Bela says, and Jo smiles up at her cheekily, proving she only said it to wind her up, “and we’re not partners.” “We’re totally partners! We look out for each other.” “No. You’re not on my level. It’d be like saying Michelangelo and his finger painting niece were partners.” “Fine,” Jo huffs, “accomplices?” “You are an accessory at best.” “Yeah? Do I rate above or below your shoes?” Bela pretends to think about it. “So far my shoes have done more quality work for this shindig than you, so I suppose the jury is still out.”

Actually you know what. Fuck it I'm doing 2. You can't stop me!!!! This is from my Cas timetravels to the episode Faith fic

"What year is it?" Cas asks suddenly. "Uh." Maybe he shouldn't tell him. That's one of those concussion questions, right? He doesn't want to fuck up his examination. "What year do you think it is?" "It is certainly within the AD range," Cas says, deadpan, and he doesn't laugh when Dean does but his frown does lighten. He looks expectant, so Dean caves: "It's 2005. The year of the rooster. Or, as I like to say, the year of -" "Cock. Yes. I've heard it before."

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

hmmmmm! There is one in one that I'm writing right now in fact! This is Endverse Cas, talking to Dean about Endverse Dean:

"Did you know," Cas says, leaning right into Dean's space, the smell of weed and dank sweat rolling off him, "He trusts me. He needs me. He - what did he say? Oh, yeah. He couldn't do this without me."

A cruel play on the Crypt scene - "I need you". Maybe people won't pick up on it but I have the intention of being mean.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

Themes....you ask me of themes...would you ask mozart of staves...jdsavbhfav I'm kidding about. I love themes my book club and anyone I've beta'd for will tell you!! In my own work, I like animal imageryyyyy. Dean is a dog (and sometimes rabbits), Bela is a rabbit, Jo is a horse, Cas is birds. I like scenes characters talking around things but both understanding what they mean. OR, the inverse, when one of them THINKS they're being perfectly clear and straightforward and the other one is coming to very different conclusions. And grief. And absence highlighted by an intense focus on objects. I think that last one is most clearly done in The Aftermath, Time/Body Problem and Brought to the Flame. I OBVIOUSLY love make-out scenes lol. Scenery used as character! It is the only way I am able to write scenery!!

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

I am...good at weaving scenes together. Dialogue and exposition and jokes and deeper character moments. Pacing, I think, would be the word. I heard some advice from the guy who wrote Not Going Out: if you end a scene high, the next "should" (usually) start or become low, and vice versa. We did it! We fucked it up. Things are looking fucking bleak. There's a moment of hope!! Peaks and valleys yknow. See here I am deflecting my compliment to someone else's advice ajkfsjbv. I write good original characters who don't distract from the narrative, how about that!! And titles! You didn't ask but my favourite titleset I've ever done is my [aged up]Bela/Edward kinky series Frames of Mind. The first is called Metacognition because Edward is thinking about Bela thinking about him (and metacognition means thinking about thought) and the second is Projection because Edward is mentally prjecting himself into the threesome Bela is in. And Bela's putting him in there too, in her mind. Also, I do a lot of stupid jokes in these, I was seriously debating a third in that catagory. I suggest that Edward turned one of his pet mice into a vampire, and that Bela's being lusted after by a swamp monster. <3

💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?

I LOVE THEM. I LOVE I AM IN LOVE. To any person who has ever commented on anything I've ever written (apart from that one bot lol) I kiss you I kiss you I kiss you a thousand times. Knowing that people took the time to read my works and say what they thought, even if they thought "<3" or "nice"...it's so kind. Also every beta reader I've ever had, I keep their joyful comments active so I can reread them over and over <3 shout out to @sonorousangels @eboyeasy @homoangel @sweater-soup and @mrcowboydeanwinchester <3

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

Never, huh....? Hm. I like a lot of things, I think there's a way to make pretty much any trope interesting if you think about it long enough. I think it's unlikely that I'd ever write something with a matchmaker!character, like, get a life? lol. It's often foisted on Sam or ANY nearby female character. BUT I do think you could make that interesting potentially, if that character was the protagonist. Like, why ARE you so obsessed with them, why DON'T you have anything going on in your own life, how can you break out of that and come to see your friends as people again instead of dollies?

btw, complete tangent, one time at [redacted] I met an old lady and told her my name and she said. "You have the same name as my dolly." Not even, the doll has the same name as ME. I have the same name as HER DOLL. Horror movie type interaction.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

Perhaps I should have preread these questions and mentioned my smoking sequel here lmao. OH WELL. I will talk about another!

I am working on a Cas timetravel fic wherein (late-)s4 Castiel (who is considering rebellion) gets pulled to...s15? ish? And Dean is NOT coping well with having a younger Castiel who doesn't have anything to resent Dean for yet, and Cas is trying to reconcile his jealousy and his resurfaced guilt (this Castiel hasn't done any of the things Cas despises himself for yet, and he's lonely and untethered, but he's also not as much of a Person and Cas can only take so much Angel Mode Bluntness and he misses Jack while Castiel it there). Also. Well the Castiels do make out but I mean. It's my fic. It was sort of inevitable.

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them. Castiel.

Cas is the tv angel!!!!!! He doesn't read very much, he watches tellyvision! He watches old sit coms at any available moment, and he does NOT get the MAJORITY of the jokes but he adores the laugh track and I love him. And, king of sick burns that he is, he'd pick up some good ones. I think if he was explaining it, perhaps to Dean, he'd say something like that he likes that "Humans have, with every theme and concept available to them, so often chosen to imagine a softer world, where the consequences are limited to a punchline, and there is a constant unity and connection with others. When you laugh at Niles Crane, you laugh with every other being in that room at that time. A snapshot of the past, with its defined limits, to a timeless creature such as myself, it has a remarkable beauty. Also, I enjoy the antics of the little dog."

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

I REALLY should have read ahead haha. This is frommmmm I can't really say what it's about without spoilers. Um. It is a plot fic wherein Cas returns post-empty and Dean is a little TOO happy about it. This is from the opening:

Cas wakes up in a car wreck. He pushes himself up from the smoking bonnet gingerly, and hears the crumple of metal below. He'd made an impact; a whole stack of rusted vehicals have been crushed beneath him, threatening the integrity of the surrounding towers of scrap. He doesn't remember the fall. The last thing he remembers is - Dean, the confession, the debt being paid. There's a pervasive ache in his muscles and his heart is beating at a sickening pace, as if he'd been running for a long time. It's possible that he had been. [...] "Dean?" Cas asks, and gets an answer he didn't expect. There's a tired sigh on the other end of the line, and Sam's voice says: "Who is this helping?" "Sam, it's me. I'm at Bobby's. I need someone to pick me up." A faint, plastic-y creak. Cas imagines Sam pressing his flip phone against his forehead. His voice is distant, mournful, "Can't you guys leave any bodies in the ground?" "Sam?" "It's not going to work. I wish you'd all stop trying." Closer, now, louder, "Just leave him alone, you hear me? You better leave him the hell alone!" The line goes dead. Cas tries calling again, but even with his Grace it doesn't go through...

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

Haha, Meg. Okay, serious answer...............whenever I do sex it always turns romantic and sweet at some point. Even the "rough sex" in my jo/bela heist, it IS rough sex and then ALSO Jo says "You're really special and I like you". In my kinky vampire rimming fic! When they just reference having other sex offscreen in my struck by lighting blowjob fic! The closest I get to not going crazy romantic is in the pseudo-sex scenes of my grace feeding fic but even then it's echoed in a sweetie darling honeypie way later.

I think I may deep down be a romantic at heart.

Uah the end!! Did you know I have posted 54 fics to Ao3??? That's wild. 39 of them are for the CW's Supernatural. Thank you sooooooo much for asking meeee as you can see I love talking about my own writing. I put a lot of thought into it!

[idledreams4]

Ranking my top... 10 Supernatural characters at 3 in the morning (cause this can't go wrong at all)

CHARLIE. Hands down it's my girl Charlie. She is my spirit animal. Honestly I'm just her irl but without the hacking skills (though I AM working on those!!!)

Dean. My baby has to take second. I'm sorry. Idk to who but I feel like I need to apologize for this placement.

Crowley. Have you met me? You should be surprised he isn't higher. I was kinda iffy about him at first. I was very wary when he first started working with the Winchesters, but by season 6 (I think it was 6? Maybe 7?) I was locked in. The little Crowstiel arc was the last nail in the coffin

Lucifer. Shut up I know I have a type. There was a point I'd put him above Crowley but my loyalty is with the new king apparently. (I'm as shocked as you are I assure you). BIG fan of Casifer by the way. Samcifer was one thing but Casifer? Ugh these fallen angels are more than welcome to ruin me

Hmm... Bobby. I've gotten really attached to him. Maybe I've been spending too much time in my made up fantasy worlds lately but he feels like an uncle to me.

The girl who wrote Supernatural The Musical. I love spn, I love musicals, and I LOVE subtext. Someone should make the musical a reality and I should play Dean. I'm happy to audition but is it reallllly necessary? Come on we allll know I could do it

I'm running out of characters I like uh oh... I guess Cas? Idk. I don't have a problem with him or anything, I love him. He's hilarious and I relate to him on sooooooooooo many levels (hi, fallen angel here) he's just not one of the characters I usually think of when I'm thinking about my favorites

Ruby. I kinda want to swap her and Cas cause I think I may like her just slightly more than him. She's hot, she's a demon, and she got Sam to start the apocalypse, what's not to love?

Oops I haven't said Sam yet. Well he isn't my favorite and I'm actually pissed at him, but he gets to be number 9.

That original crossroads demon. I forget her name but again: she's hot, and she's a demon. And even though she's been dead since before the apocalypse I cannot forget her.

And you know what: here are my 5 most hated characters too. I'm going in reverse order so my absolute least favorite is like a dramatic reveal.

5. Darkness. My only problem with her is that she's getting in the way of Destiel. Oh and she wasn't very appreciative of what Crowley had done for her, but I care more about the CW making her Dean's (unwanted) romantic interest rn.

4. Sam. Yeah he was on the favorites list, because I did like him, but he screwed up bad enough that he's here. Where do I start? He didn't look for Dean. He worked with Rowena. He ignored Dean SEVERAL times, usually resulting in some sort of apocalypse/end of the world scenario. HE GOT CHARLIE KILLED. He put Lucifer back in the cage. He tried to just give uo and die. Honestly I could keep going on but since it's almost taken me a full hour to write this already I'll stop here.

3. Metatron. He's an asshole. I don't know what else to say. I hate him and he has a REALLY punchable face

2. Chuck. Honestly I don't know why I hate him so much. I think it's just because I actually have beef with God. (Again: hi, fallen angel here. Gotta love them celestial daddy issues) Ever since I found out this fucker was God I've hated him for just abandoning all his creations and watching everything go down.

Rowena. God I hate that even THIS sounds like her, but I see wayyyyyy too much of myself in her and if I didn't hate her guts I'd love her. As we can tell by where I put Crowley, I'm not a fan of her for abandoning him, torturing him, manipulating him, stealing his throne, betraying him, etc. but I ESPECIALLY hate her for getting Charlie killed. I wish that I was the one who got to snap her neck instead of Lucifer. Fuck. This. Bitch. In. Particular.

[clairenatural]

destiel, 1.4k. another post-series (15x20 coda?) of the Heaven reunion, this one with trueform!cas :)

“Cas helped.”

Dean looks up at that, and Bobby is looking at him with an easy smile, and Dean waits for the inevitable rush of oh God does he know—but it doesn’t come. He starts to understand what this “at peace” thing is all about.

“Yeah?” he answers, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Is he, uh. Here?”

Bobby turns his smirk back on his beer bottle. “He’ll be along.”

Dean looks from Bobby to the impala, sitting clean and shiny in front of Harvelle’s, and then on to the dirt road that stretches off into the distance. He nods, begins to stand. “I’m gonna go for a drive,” he mumbles to Bobby, who just nods absently and watches him leave.

The Impala is warm, familiar. Grounding. The keys are on the passenger seat, on top of the same box of cassette tapes he’d had since he was 26. He’s glad to have it with him—he hopes Sam is taking good care of the real thing. He hopes Sam has Eileen riding shotgun, Miracle panting in the back. He smiles. They’re all in good hands.

Dean turns on the stereo and the opening bars of Ramble On fill the car, and he realizes the tape playing is the only one that hasn’t been in the box from the beginning. It makes his heart ache—he’s not meant to be listening to this alone. More than anything, though, it reminds him what—who—he’s driving to.

He’ll be along.

Dean drives for what feels like hours but could only be a few minutes—and time doesn’t really exist up here, anyway. He just drives, and the scenery around him shifts with every passing mile, and he doesn’t know where he’s going but he knows he’s driving until.

Until ends up being a field off the highway that opens up in front of him as he turns the bend. The sky darkens as he pulls up, and it’s a clearer night sky than he’d ever seen down below, and it looks just like one of the fields Cas would always make him pull over at on the way back from a hunt, just for a few minutes, just to see the stars.

He pulls the car into the shoulder and steps out, walks until he’s in the middle of the field, and stops. He looks up—but he is up, and how do you pray to a place you’re already in?

“Cas—” he starts, but he’s barely done with the syllable before a cold wind blows past him and he feels something behind him. A presence. Him.

Okay, so maybe he was overthinking the praying part.

Dean turns slowly, and all his breath leaves his body at the sight of the angel before him. He doesn’t know what he was expecting—he’s in Heaven, obviously, and angels, well—this is just what they look like. And this angel, well—

Castiel is towering. Approximately the size of your Chrysler building, Dean remembers. He’s many-headed, a mass of wings and eyes, a being made of pure light. Dean half expects him to start with be not afraid, but he doesn’t—he doesn’t say anything—and Dean isn’t afraid. This is right, he thinks. This is beautiful.

“Castiel,” Dean breathes, the full name leaving his lips for the first time in years, and the angel glows brighter at the sound of it.

Hello, Dean. He speaks without speaking, as if the words are being projected straight into Dean’s mind. His whole body reverberates with them. You’re early.

Dean smiles, and it’s a bittersweet thing. “Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn’t too eager to get up here, either.”

He can’t explain what, but something about the angel feels sad.

“You, uh—last time, you kinda left in a rush. Didn’t let me say anything,” he continues, both to shut down any more death talk and also because if he doesn’t say anything now he’ll chicken out for another century.

My apologies. I wasn’t intending on seeing you again.

Dean throws both his arms out. “That’s the point, man! You can’t just drop something like that on a guy and die.” There’s something almost absurd about chastising an Angel of the Lord in his true form, but Dean doesn’t care. His whole damn life had been absurd.

There’s a silence. Dean can almost see the way Cas would be shifting on his feet, if he still had feet to shift on.

I’ll try not to do it again, he says, finally, and Dean can’t help but grin.

“Yeah, you better not. At least not without letting me tell you that I love you too, you asshole.”

There wasn’t much sound to begin with, but any ambient noise around stops. For the first time since he arrived Heaven is silent, except for a low buzzing he slowly realizes is coming from the being in front of him. He suddenly remembers sparks of electricity and shattering lightbulbs.  

You love me?

Dean laughs again, nervous now. “Yeah, I do. I mean—I have. You know. For…a while.”

There’s another moment that is too still, too quiet, before Castiel moves—something that could be a wing reaches out for him, and Dean should be terrified, but he’s not. He lets the light touch his cheek and closes his eyes. It’s warm. It’s pure.

Slowly, the light-wing becomes more and more solid, more and more hand-shaped, until Dean feels the weight of a human palm on his face. He opens his eyes and meets familiar blue ones. He grins. “Heya, Cas.”

There’s still an apprehension in Cas’ eyes, which Dean hates. “You love me,” he repeats, out loud this time.

“Yeah,” Dean confirms.

“I don’t understand.” Cas drops his hand from Dean’s face but Dean catches it in his own, links their fingers together.

“It’s three words, Cas. Pretty self-explanatory.”

“But you said it to my true—to me.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Well, yeah, dumbass. I love you.”

Cas is still staring at him like something isn’t clicking. He takes a deep breath. “Dean, you know that—what I said, just saying it, that was enough…I don’t need you to—"

“Hey, Cas?” Dean cuts him off, and he stops rambling. “You know what you said, about wanting something you can’t have?”

Cas nods.

“I’m telling you that you can have it.”

Cas blinks at him, and then it’s like everything slides into place, and he’s grinning and reaching back up for Dean’s face, and then—then they’re kissing. Dean is in literal Heaven, kissing an angel, and it’s—well. It’s perfect.

When they finally move apart, it’s not far, and Cas doesn’t drop his hands. Dean leans their foreheads together and they stay there, breathing together, until Cas breaks the silence.

“I was going to come back.” Dean has his eyes closed but he opens them at that.

“Hmm?”

“I was going to come back,” Cas repeats, louder this time, pulling back enough to look Dean in the eye. “Dean, I promise—Jack needed help repairing Heaven, but after that I was going to come back to you. And Sam. I just didn’t expect—”

Dean gets it. He does. “Hey, I didn’t either.”

Cas shakes his head, as if Dean isn’t getting it. “Yes, but, if I had been there—”

And nope. No. They’re not going there. “Cas,” Dean cuts him off, stern but not unkind. “It’s okay. You weren’t, and it happened, and that’s—it’s okay.”

“Is it?” Cas is staring at him, earnest and sad, and the sadness is heavy, and—well. No, it’s not.

“It’s not—I ain’t too thrilled about being dead, alright? But it also ain’t your fault, and I figure I’ve got an eternity to mourn myself, so…” Dean tightens his hold around Cas’ waist. “Can we just. Have this, right now?”

Cas smiles at him, and it’s still sad, but it’s a start. He strokes his thumb along Dean’s cheekbone. “We can have it forever,” he promises. 

Dean smiles back as he leans in again.

[shatteredatthealtarofwinchester]

Umm, wait. It's more a 15x20 rant than an analysis. I'll call it... a ranalysis. 😏

I just saw J*reds last online panel again, where he called the finale "magical full circle storytelling". 15x20 is his "favourite episode ever" because he "is a fan of good storytelling". Uh-huh... Okay. So the following just was built on pure rage. This makes it more of a rant than an analysis. As usual. You guys know me.

Well. There are various possibilities here, Jared. Possibility A is, you are lying, what I do not believe. To lie that obvious you have to be a talented actor, which you are not. Possibility B is, you really think that way. You believe, the finale was "magical full circle storytelling" and you actually loved it, it was indeed your favourite episode. This again brings me to the only conclusion: You have no fucking idea about good storytelling, not even decent storytelling.

Lets look at every single ending, shall we?

Dean. We all know you think Deans death was a "success story." You think that Dean "ultimately gave his life for his number one on planet." I am sitting here, laughing in pain. First of all, let me say that Dean didn't died for Sam, Jared. He didn't took a bullet for Sam or sacrificed himself or whatsoever. He died in the most ridiculous accident I've ever seen. But lets go back to the very start.

Dean’s childhood was highly abusive. Dean was 4 years old when he saw his mother burning alive and learned that monsters are real. In that age he developed PTSD and stopped talking. Dean had a childhood with a father that was an alcoholic and physically and mentally abusive, who had believed that Dean had a “killer instinct". When Dean was about 6 years old, John forced him into a nurturing role for Sam. In the same age Dean was forced into the soldiers role as well when John taught him how to shoot and hunt. Dean had to obey orders without questioning. If he acted “out of line,” (aka something John didn’t like) John chewed him out or left them alone. Dean was trained to be Daddy’s blunt instrument. Dean gave up his own life to keep Sam safe, because he had no other choice. More than a brother Dean had to be a father and a mother to Sam. He suppressed everything, every psychological pain, every emotion, he just lived to protect Sam and to obey as Johns blunt soldier. Short: Dean gave up HIMSELF for Sam and John. Not because Dean wanted to, because he was forced into it! Dean hated himself, he was suicidal. He was convinced he isn’t worthy of anything, especially not being loved. Dean never had a life for his own, never had a choice, never had a chance, never had own original thoughts, never felt safe or loved. He was used to being left. He felt like he was nothing. Worthless. He was dead inside. Broken. You get what I mean, Jared? Since you own a mental health campaign, you should. And guess what Dean did? He kept fighting. Despite everything, he kept fighting. And his mindset slowly changed. He understood that his father was an abusive bastard, he unterstood that he was forced into a life he never wanted. He understood that he is more than that, that he is not like John. He changed. He opened up. He even wanted to retire. And now it gets interesting, because something happened that REALLY is the start of magical full circle storytelling. Something in Deans mind clicked while Cas' confession. His confession was fundamental to Dean to finally accept his own goodness and the value of his life and love, of his identity. It was the moment of breaking free of the structure that had controlled and corrupted him his entire life. It was the only way out of his abusive and traumatizing cage to experience something for his own the very first time. For the first time in his life he had a chance. A choice. The start of his very own life. Free will, baby! Well, no. Because exactly in that moment he stumbled into a nail and died. Do you even realize how dumb this is? Do you even realize what you did? Wait, it gets worse. Yeah, that's possible, even if you dont believe it. In heaven he goes right back to the life he has spent his whole journey learning to free himself from: Left only with the persons he had been forced, time and time again, to sacrifice his identity, goals, and soul for. None of the family, support, or love, nothing he has built or chosen for himself remains. This is not magical full circle storytelling, Jared. This is abysmal pointless butchering. This has NOTHING, not a single percent of magical or good storytelling! YOU call that magical? YOU call that a success? Seriously, what shit are you on? If it would've been full circle storytelling, there is not one single fucking possibility that Dean would've died in the end. I don't know whats going on in your twisted brain, but Deans death never was and never will be a success. To make it magical full circle storytelling, he MUST have been the one who survives and overcomes his trauma (and raise a certain someone from perdition.)

Sam. He's actually the one who kinda got the best ending, huh? I mean, it was fucking horrific, but it was the best if you compare it to the others. When Sam was young, he wanted a normal life far away from hunting, while the truth is, Sam always was more like John than Dean ever will be. Over time his mindset clearly changed. He even said: "When Dean came to get me at school, I told myself, one last job, you know, (...) it was always one more job and then I was gonna go back to law and to my life. I guess, I really understand now that THIS is my life. And I love it." Sam couldn't imagine a normal life anymore. He had the chances for that and he declined. He loved hunting. He loved working and making progress with the BMOL, he very much enjoyed being a MOL and even took the lead often. I can clearly picture Sam as the lead of a rebuilt version of the MOL, that would've made sense. What did Sam get? Right, the ending he didn't wanted anymore, but since we yeet every single development of every single character out of the window, Sam has to be Season 1 Sam again, BUT with a fancy party wig! And there he is! And what a happy life he lives, exactly what he wanted, woohoo! So much joy, so much fun! Oh look, there is BlurryWife™, who Jared made sure is not Eileen, because “Dean wouldn’t want Sam to be with Eileen”. But wait, didn't Dean wanted Sam to be with Eileen? Didn't Dean literally said: "If it was to work, Eileen, you know... She gets it, she gets us, she gets the life. You could do worse. And she could certainly do better, like SO much better. I'm happy for you, Sammy." Yeah, NO. This was just a writing AND acting AND producing mistake and had no matter at all. *cough* So... As you can see, magical storytelling strikes again. I can feel the magic, I can feel the full circle, it's... Amazing...

Castiel. Castiels story was magical, it was mindblowing. I've never in my entire life seen such a meaningful and deep storyline and I mean this. It's fucking massive. There is this blunt angel soldier, one of the post powerful forces, who was built to blindly obey, who lived for aeons of years, who wasn't supposed to feel anything, but he fell for a broken, suicidal, abused human who never felt loved or worthy the very moment he touched him. He fell so hard he rebelled against his own race, against his own family, against everything he had without any safety. He was the ONLY one in Chuck-knows-how-many universes who GREW outside of Chucks CONTROL! His love was so fucking massive, it couldn't be controlled by the God who built every-fucking-thing. Chuck built millions(?) of parallel universes, heaven, hell, life, death, purgatory, the empty, he created every single being, the light, darkness, every single angel, demon, leviathan, monster, animal, plant, sea, blade of grass, every centimeter of mountains, the four seasons, emotions, what the fuck ever. Everything you can ever think of, Chuck created it. And he controlled it. In every single one of his fucking millions of universes. But not Castiel.This is actually not possible. You can't outrun god. You can't outrun the one who creates, writes and controlles everything. But Cas did. Out of love. And not only that, you also imply that what happened between Dean and Cas was the only thing  that was real. Everything else was corrupted, controlled, manipulated, written by Chuck. But what happened between Dean and Cas, he couldn't affect.

Seeing Cas standing there, crying, confessing his love to Dean actually even makes me think that Dean made Cas human. Dean completed Cas. Cas didn't simply said "I love you", he actually said "In all existing universes, in all millions, all aeons of years, you are my only happiness." And Cas completed Dean. He freed Dean. While Dean was used to being left, was used to feeling worthless and unlovable, Cas saw Dean exactly the way he is and chose to stay. With every obstacle, every difficulty he loved him even more and yes, freed him from the abusive structure that had controlled and corrupted him his entire life. Something that no one else could, not his parents, not Amara, not God, not even Sam. Beautiful, isn't it? Unique. Mindblowing. Pure. You enjoyed it? Let's fuck this up in 3...2...1...

Castiels story ended exactly the same way it started. A blunt angel who doesn't care about people and feelings, blindly carrying out instructions from a new God, obeying heaven. No progress. They threw away 12 years of character development and managed to give him the same stupid and senseless ending like they did with Dean. Dean died and Cas... Wasn't there?! WHAT!? There is no single fucking way Cas wouldn't save Dean or wouldn't be there when Dean enters heaven! There. Is. No. Fucking. Way! The way they represented Cas in the end doesn't only imply that Dean isn't important to Cas anymore, he even ended up exactly the same way as if Season 4-15 wouldn't have happened. The ending is exactly the same! He's with God in heaven, supporting him with instructions, not caring about anything else.

Okay, I got it. Summarizing you can say: Jareds "magical full circle storytelling" is to yeet 95% of the past 15 years. No other characters matter, the story itself doesn't matter, every single characters development doesn't matter, it even doesn't matter what the brothers really want, they don't get it anyway.

Okay. But that's not all. As if this wasn't bad enough, they didn't just butchered ... EVERYTHING, they also salted and burnt every single Mantra they ever stood for. I'll make these short, I promise!

Team Free Will. *snort* Dean couldn't escape his fate, he always believed he'll die on a hunt as Daddys blunt instrument and he did. He kept fighting to die exactly the way he felt he was "supposed to". Message? No matter how hard you keep fighting, no matter how long you'll keep it up, you can't escape your fate. Sam couldn't change his fate, he ended how he started. Cas couldn't change his fate, he ended how he started, same for Jack, he ended how he was supposed to. YEET THE FREE WILL, NONE OF THEM CAN CHANGE ANYTHING!

Family don't end with  blood. The biggest lie that has ever been told. Do I even have to explain that? No need, right? Don't make me wanna throw up again, please. We all know that 15x20 blasted "Family don't end with blood" in millions of pieces.

Always keep fighting. THE AUDACITY to praise that while Dean is dying! After everything Dean has dealt with, It makes me wanna scream. Dean kept fighting, he always kept fighting, no matter how hard it was, no matter what forced him to his knees, he stood up again, and if he wasn't able to stand up, he crawled. He kept fighting no matter what, despite everything. His mindset changed. He wanted to live, he wanted to experience things, feelings and people differently or even for the first time. He changed. He wanted to retire, toes in the sand. He knew he earned it. Thats why he kept fighting. For what? To die the very first moment he had a free will. To die the very first moment he had a choice, had a life to build for himself. Always keep fighting, but the moment you come close to what you want, what you fought for, you die. It's been more than 3 months and I am having tears in my eyes while typing this. As for Dean, no matter how hard you fight, no matter how long you fight, you don't reach what you deserve anyway. Give up. As for Sam, AKF leeds to Emptiness. Grief. Psychological Trauma. Mental illness. Absolutely nothing worth fighting for.

I wanna go cry now, bye.

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

endlessly

or, the one-shot that wouldn’t get out of my head where jack is a baby, cas is back, and he and dean have a talk. s13 :) this is a long one, so part of it is going under the cut! 

--------------

Things are strange. 

Of course, things are often strange in Castiel’s life, especially these days. For one, he just got brought back from the dead. For another, he rode in the passenger’s seat of the Impala on the way back to the bunker. Sam drove, because when Dean tried to drive, the baby in the backseat--Jack, that’s Jack--started crying, and Dean had to switch spots and let Jack’s tiny hand wrap around one of his fingers. Only then did Jack stop crying.

As soon as they got back to the bunker, Dean went to put Jack to bed, leaving Castiel in the kitchen with Sam. That’s where Castiel is now, watching Sam putter around, cleaning up things that don’t need to be cleaned. There’s clearly something on his mind.

“You and Dean should talk,” Sam finally says.

“We usually do talk,” Castiel replies, unsure of what, exactly, Sam means. 

“I mean, really talk. Look--” Sam stops, grabs two beers out of the fridge and slides one across the island to Castiel, before continuing. “Dean gets...things get bad for him when you’re gone. Without Jack to take care of, I think he would have...” Sam doesn’t finish the sentence, but Castiel has a feeling he knows where it was headed. 

“Is Jack always like that?” Castiel asks.

“Obsessed with Dean? Yeah. I mean, things are still kinda complicated with Mom, and I’m not great with kids, but Dean...” Sam sighs. “I mean, he had to take care of me constantly when I was a baby. He’s always been really good with kids, better at expressing himself. And he and Jack...I mean, if Dean’s not with him, Jack gets really upset.”

“Wow,” Castiel says. He remembers a few years ago, helping Claire out, and how quickly Claire and Dean cottoned onto each other. And stories he’s heard from before he knew the Winchesters (sometimes it’s hard to believe there was a time in his life before them) where kids had been involved on a hunt and Dean saved the day.

Perhaps it’s only natural.

“But yeah,” Sam takes a deep swig of his beer. “Go find him and talk. I bet Jack is asleep by now.”

“Right.”

Castiel still feels odd, wrong-footed, though. It should be easy to talk to Dean--Dean’s one of his best friends, someone he would do anything for, has done anything for. 

But he’s also Dean, someone who can be complicated and feels things deeply, and if he’s been feeling bad enough to contemplate--

Castiel doesn’t know what to say to that.

He finds Dean in his room, sprawled out on the bed with a sleeping Jack next to him. There are beer bottles and a couple of whiskey bottles littering Dean’s nightstand, an overflowing wastebasket in the corner.

Sam was right. Things haven’t been great. 

Dean’s eyes flutter open when he hears Cas enter and he sits up, saying softly, “I know sleeping with babies can be bad, cuz I read one of those books you got, but he just...” Dean turns his gaze to Jack. “He doesn’t go to sleep unless I do this.”

Castiel nods.

Dean carefully scoops Jack up and carries him over to the crib in the corner of the room. The whole scene is both painfully domestic and painfully Dean, and it causes something in Castiel’s chest to twinge. 

“But he’s out like a light now,” Dean says. “He’s already better at sleeping, it’s like he knows I don’t get much even without a crying baby.”

“Hm,” Castiel agrees. “Dean, can we talk?”

“Uh, sure? Let’s go somewhere else.” Dean takes one last look at Jack’s swaddled form and then leads Castiel out of his bedroom and to another room, which Cas has never been in before and is barren except for some armchairs and a foosball table.

“What’s this?” Cas asks as they settle into the armchairs.

“It’s...I dunno, a rec room or something. Thinking of putting a TV in here so we could watch movies. I’ve been calling it the Deancave and Sam has been getting annoyed with me.” Dean cracks a smile at a that. “Whaddya want to to talk about?”

“I, uh...” Castiel shrugs. “Sam just said I should talk to you.”

“Dirty traitor. Of course he did.” Dean frowns.

“We don’t have to if you don't want to, I just thought--”

“No, no, this’ll--I need to say this shit.” Dean swallows, before saying, “So, do you remember, about a year or so after we met, when we were trying to get the Colt back and gank Lucifer?”

“I do,” Castiel says, now completely unsure of where Dean is going with this.

“Well, I...I got zapped to the future. Or a future, I guess, by Zachariah. It was...2014 there, the world was overrun by this plague and zombies, Sam was...gone, he had said yes to Lucifer for good, and I met another version of myself who was...he wasn’t a great guy. Pretty cold and ruthless, willing to use people he cared about as bait or put them in harm’s way. He didn’t care about much anymore.” “I assume I wasn’t in this world?” Castiel asks.

“No, you were.” Now Dean looks genuinely pained. “You had lost almost all of your grace, and you spent your days...drinking and doing drugs and having sex. You had lost the trench coat and you were...different. You still thought I was pretty cool, though, and the other Dean, the Dean from that you’s time, he hated that.” 

“I see.” Something is coming into focus.

“You were Cas, but you weren’t my Cas,” Dean says, the emphasis on the my weighty.

“Was this the same night that you told me to never change?”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs. “It was. Something that the other you said, it just...it hit me. And I couldn’t let that happen to you, and I couldn’t let myself be the guy that made it worse. He said that the only thing you and that Dean had left was each other, that if the other me said it was time to go, then you would follow him. And I tried to talk to the future me about it, ask him why he was willing to put you in harm’s way just because you would follow him. He...he didn’t have an answer.”

“I have changed, though, Dean,” Castiel says after a moment. “And not in a bad way.”

“Yeah, but you coulda become that guy.” Dean’s fidgeting now, uncomfortable. “Anyways, after that it was...yeah. You know how things went, you were there. A lot of shit went down, and I tried not to think about that future I saw.”

“I see.”

There’s a vast, empty silence in the room as Castiel contemplates what Dean has told him. He wants to ask follow-up questions, figure out what, exactly, Dean means by what he’s said, but it’s rare that Dean is so open and calm about it, and Castiel doesn’t want to break the spell. He wants Dean to, what’s the phrase? Level with him. 

“And then we went to purgatory,” Dean continues suddenly. “And I spent a year looking for you and found you all dirty and scruffy--you still had that trench coat but you looked like him. I was...starting to realize something, I guess? I mean, Benny helped me find you, and one night we were just hanging out, doing stuff, and he asked me what my deal was about you. I told him, I said you were one of my best friends, hell, just straight-up my best friend.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said I was full of shit, that no one spends a year in purgatory for a friend. I told him to shut the hell up, but he was right.”

This isn’t happening. This would never happen, because Castiel has heard that it won’t. The Empty’s words from when he was dead echo in his head.

I know who you hate. I know who you love. There is nothing for you back there.

But maybe there is.

“There isn’t any use in trying to hide it from you,” Dean says. “You saw all the bottles. Every time you leave...I tell myself it’s because you’re like family, and you are, but not quite--” 

Castiel is tired of waiting, tired of having a weight lodged in his chest, and he hates how agitated and small Dean looks, so before he can fully think out what he’s doing, he’s standing up and then leaning over Dean’s chair, his face inches from Dean’s.

He waits.

“There’s--there’s no way,” Dean says, breathless. 

“There is.” Castiel swallows, hopes he hasn’t miscalculated.

He determines a moment later when Dean seizes him by his collar and pulls him all the way down into a kiss that he did not, in fact, miscalculate. 

It’s clumsy and messy, because of the angle and the nerves and all of the waiting, but Castiel doesn’t particularly care, and he’s getting the impression that Dean doesn’t, either. 

“Please don’t leave again,” Dean whispers into Castiel’s neck when they finally separate.

“I won’t,” Castiel promises. “Although I still can’t promise to never change.”

“That’s a good thing,” Dean replies. “I know that. Now.” 

Castiel doesn’t sleep, but when Dean finally heads back to his room to check on Jack and then try and get his four hours, Dean grabs Castiel by the trench coat sleeve. He stays, takes the pair of pajamas Dean sheepishly offers, finds himself curled around Dean in the big bed that doesn’t seem so big anymore. Neither Dean or Jack wake up all night. 

Castiel may not sleep, but he does sink into a fairly deep meditative state in the quiet darkness of Dean’s room. He “comes to” an indeterminate amount of time later to see that the room is empty, save him, and that all the bottles and trash are gone.

He pads into the hallway, still in that pair of Dean’s pajamas, and hears voices coming from the kitchen. He follows them to find Sam sitting at the table, talking to Dean, who’s standing at the stove with Jack swaddled and wrapped to his chest. Castiel feels his face reddening as his chest expands, and he makes a beeline for the table and sits across from Sam.

“I see you had that talk,” Sam whispers, grinning. 

“We did.” Castiel can’t help but smile back.

“Anyone not want bacon?” Dean asks from the stove, and Castiel and Sam both shake their heads. 

Castiel could get used to this, and he hopes he gets the chance to. 

[sibsteria]

all the angels [cast & angels & chuck]

prompts: ''run away with me''

summary: [bare with me, this is a long summary and concept] throughout the decades, y/n and the angels lived in harmony, her being the only being with powers on par with chuck. an immortal life with your angels sounds good, doesn't it? something goes wrong and y/n gets projected into the world of the spn actors. she had never met god, despite being made for the angels because of him. the thing is, she doesn't remember anything of her life with the angels and this messes with reality. the world of reality, along with y/n, are all magically convinced she has always been in their universe as a fellow cast mate. what happens when most of her favourite angels and a certain hellish man team up to collect her in the middle of a con?

characters: Rob Benedict, Richard Speight Jr, Mark Pellegrino, Misha Collins, Mark Sheppard, Sebastian Roche, Chuck Shurley, Gabriel, Castiel, Lucifer, Balthazar, Crowley

warnings: I dreamt something along the lines of this and it's just pure crack, I apologise, fluff, angst, everyone is single because it gets weird. I wrote this at 4am :/

---

''So let's talk about Y/n's character! She hasn't been explained too much but we know her backstory.'' Wow, thank you, Mark Sheppard.

''Well, I'm pretty sure the fans already know.'' I shrug, but a glare from the man before me makes me roll my eyes.

''Come on, don't leave them in the dust, also sharing a name with your character is weird right?'' He teases me, I resist the urge to walk over and playfully slap him.

''Fine. She was created by God to please the angels in whatever way they needed, with her consent obviously. She creates a connection with Gabriel and their connection become the focus of her life, until she meets Crowley-'' I look over at Sheppard and paint a fake scowl on my face, sending the audience into light laughter. ''-who is also vying for her attention, but as you all know, she had been killed off at the end of the last season. Y'all didn't see that blinding golden light and her disappearing act?'' I raise my eyebrow at the crowd. They murmur amongst themselves.

''Are you sure she was killed off?'' Richard snickers from next to me. ''What if her dear Gabe just snapped her away for some-'' He wags his eyebrows to out fans. ''-angel on paragon action.''

''It's literally in the script shut up- or you know, believe this idiot.'' I smile, showing I meant no offense

''Scripts change! You know that!'' Misha reasons, aggressively.

''I suppose so.'' Leaving audiences in an unsolved mystery is the fun of cons.

---

Sitting in the green room, it's sweaty and warm after the panel. We are instantly greeted by our colleagues awaiting their next instructions such as Mark Pellegrino, Sebastian Roche and Rob Benedict.

''Welcome back, you little bastards.'' Sebastian's voice rings throughout the room, I groan, faceplanting onto the couch where Rob sat, fiddling with an acoustic guitar.

We sat, talked, ate, I napped, yknow the usual.

---

''So, do you think they will bring you back for the next season?'' Misha asks, I bite my lip and answer him.

''I have no idea, no one has said anything so maybe not. I'll be joining our widdle Kings of Con if not.'' I give a baby voice when talking about the couple that is R2.

''Hey!'' Rob's voice wavers in his distinct little way.

''Rude of you to call me little.'' Richard winks and I shoot gag at him, he feigns a frown.

''In other news-'' Mark Pellegrino's cut-in is interrupted by a blinding golden light, surrounding the room. I grip onto Rob's arm as the ground begins to shake, burring my head into his chest, I cover my eyes from the light. He holds me back just as tight, hiding in the comfort of my shoulder. One of many weird, intimate moments with him that makes people believe we are together.

A loud, pitched, sound rattles around us. A few of us scream in pain but I just whimper and move closer into Rob.

Suddenly, everything stops and stills.

I can't force myself to move.

''What the fuck?!'' I hear Misha, making me not want to move even more.

''Ha! Look, she's cuddling you. Awe.'' I hear Richard's voice, but it wasn't him, it didn't sound like him. I pull myself away from Rob's chest and look at the scene unfolding.

'What the fuck?'' I whisper, repeating Collins' earlier comment. Stood here, a few feet in front of us are Gabriel, Balthazar, Castiel, Crowley, Lucifer and Chuck. Did I miss something?

''Not happy to see us, darlin'?'' Gabriel smirks, a foot of his approaches me, I look at them in confusion and shock.

''W-What's going on?'' That is the first time I have ever heard Pellegrino stutter.

''We should probably talk...'' Chuck wavers his hands to us all, motioning us to listen to him.

''So, uh, Y/n here? She's our Y/n, from our reality and we kinda want her back.'' Gabriel shuffles his weight between each of his feet, I'm in too much terror to even speak, so is everyone else.

''You hear him, dickbags? We want her back.'' Lucifer crosses his arms, staring dead into Pellegrino's soul, presumably to make him uncomfortable.

''I don't understand-'' I stop myself, leaving it at that.

''Wait, do you not remember?'' Gabriel looks at me, broken eyes reflect his inside pain.

''Of course she doesn't, you bollock! Can't you see the look on her face?'' Crowley rolls his eyes but for some reason I can sense his true sadness.

''I will explain, better.'' Castiel takes a step towards me. ''You are Y/n Divine, our Divine, your the celestial from our existence. Your our...?'' He struggles to find the words, Balthazar answers for him. Not the lot of explaining I need there, Cas.

''Our collective soulmate, so to speak.'' He nods.

''Yeah, that's who I am in Supernatural but- this isn't the show, this is reality. I gotta be dreaming, oh my God-'' Chuck interferes (doesn't he always).

''That's me.'' The nervous laugh from the bearded almighty almost makes me laugh, almost, but the situation was too real for it. ''Would it help if I...showed you?'' He says, unsure of his choice of words.

For some reason, I pour my trust into him, and walk towards the clone of my almost boyfriend, I wished.

''Mind if I show all of you?'' Chuck asks, before ignoring some of the 'no's in the room and he snaps, bringing us into a dream state.

Scenes flow through our brains, ones that weren't in the show

---

Dressed in a white kaftan with golden afflictions, there was Y/n, lay in the greenest of grass. And next to her? Gabriel the Archangel. Almost in a Bella-Edward meadow position, the two looked into each other, reading one another's soul.

''Run away with me.'' Gabriel whispers, lighter than air.

''What?'' She snaps out of her dreamy daze.

''Let's leave, you don't need any other angel that isn't me.'' This breaks her heart, although Gabriel was her favourite and the one she had a special connection with, she had a duty to remain near the other angels.

''I want to-'' Gabe's heart lifts but sank soon after. ''-but you know I can't. I wasn't created to defy my purpose, I would cease to exist if I did.'' A tear rolls down her cheek, the light from the fading sun rested gracefully on her skin.

''I know. Oh, what was I thinking? My father will come after us and- I would rather now think about what he would do to us, to you.'' He looks away from her to relish in his pain.

''Don't be like that, my little Aurelian enchanter-'' She mentions the colour of his golden wings, which lay across the ground behind him, a beautiful sight. ''-the time will come where no angel needs me, then I can devote myself to you, only you.'' She mumbles, pressing a sure kiss to the peak of his nose. He huffs in a peaceful array of emotion.

''At least you don't kiss any other of my brothers or estranged family.'' He nudges back at her, nose to nose.

---

''That was sickening to watch.'' Pellegrino chuckles into the dark abyss of our voices, unable to see each other but still recognising each other within the blindness.

''Shall I show you another one?'' A rhetorical question from the Lord from above, as he whisks us into another memory.

---

She sat on a bench, clad in elegancy, the world was still new and beaming. New angels were being created, not all of them needed a divine celestial to aid them, so she spent her days watching the creations live. The bees harvesting pollen from the flowers was one of her favourite sights.

She felt an angelic presence appear next to her, but a new one, an unknown one.

''Who might you be?'' She asks, not tearing her eyes away from the fuzz of a creature.

''I am Castiel.'' Short and stat, seems like the kind of being he was, without a vessel he could be read more easily.

''No vessel yet, I assume?'' She looks towards the beam of light beside her.

''No, not yet. I hardly think there's a need for such a thing.'' His voice was the most beautiful she had heard, of all the angels, no vessel and no front made him so much more enticing.

''Well, nice to meet you. You're wings...they're black? Pretty though, new as well.'' She smiled at Castiel, his aura positively increased, the interaction helping them both. Just a simple amount of time in company can help an angel.

''Thank you.''

---

''So that's Castiel?'' Misha seems uneasy.

''Would you like to see the encounter between her and his vessel?''

---

She sat, with Balthazar, just grooming his beautiful wings. An act she did for her most favourite angels.

''Have you seen Castiel's vessel?'' He smiles up at her, in his own vessel.

''Not yet but I am excited though, from the comments I'm hearing, he is a most handsome fellow.'' She brushes past a certain spot, making Bal shiver in delight, not in a sexual manner.

''Ugh, like you don't find yourself infatuated with my golden winged brother already, don't go falling for another one.'' He groans in disgust, she laughs, melodically.

''I can promise you, I won't.'' That was a future lie.

''Hello, Y/n.'' A new voice from behind her, sensing the energy, she knew it was Cas.

A wide grin stretches across her features, ''Castiel!'' She shouts, whipping round to face the angel in his new restrictions. ''My, my, good choice, my angel.'' A nickname specifically reserved for the defying being.

''I would say 'thank you', but it would be a most similar and repetitive interaction.'' She sighs in relaxation, reliving her first encounter with Castiel.

''You are always welcome, you're one of my favourites.'' She boops his nose, squeaking 'boop' at the same time, Cas cocks his head in confusion.

''Boop?'' He questions her, she shrugs her shoulders.

''You're cute, so I booped you.'' She giggles, Castiel couldn't refuse the stutter in his 'emotions' as she spoke.

''Okay.''

---

I heard Mark Sheppard's voice throughout the void, ''YoU'rE cUtE, sO i BoOpEd YoU!'' His badgering voice pointing fun at me.

''Shut up.'' I mumble.

---

It was beautiful, the winding waterfall gushing down the rocks, watching it flow. She sat, in deep thought, things between Lucifer and Michael were getting tense, she was scared for the future.

''You don't need to worry about us, my little cherub.'' Lucifer's voice mixed eloquently with the sound of the waves slowly connecting the lake below.

''It's part of my job, I couldn't help it if I tried.'' She shrugged, she stared at the water, taking in the fresh air.

''I know that things aren't simple, they never will be, just know you will always have me. I have never spoken to anyone in such a tone before, you should be honoured, little one.'' This made her accumulate, she leaned back into hold, he was a median temperature. It was nice.

''My Lucifer.'' She grinned in thought. ''You always have been the most intriguing, I will never give up on you, I promise you that.'' She craned her neck to look at the blonde, before pressing the smallest of kisses to his jaw. She had never seen him so vulnerable, so honest with himself, and she wouldn't again for some time.

---

''My dear, this is too dangerous. You are not a warrior, you are a healer and an abettor. I can't let you, I'm sorry.'' Crowley's gruff rumble soaked the thin air, she wanted to fight for her angels- with her angels. She held the power, but not the will.

''I was made for this moment, this is my purpose, I have to do something.'' She pleads, tears stinging her eyes.

''Listen to me, darling, they need you alive more than you're help. Listen to what I'm saying, although I am nonpartisan, I can't remain unbiased. I fear that my little, fascination with you is what keeps you safe. The angels may not love it, but it keeps you safe whilst they handle their own. They want you safe, so that is what I will do.'' His short monologue seemed to flip something within Y/n, she stayed silent for a moment, reeling in thought. Hearing his repetition of the word safe just made her wish the same for her angels.

''I-I guess you're right. I don't want anything to happen to them, you remember last time, when it all-'' She couldn't bring herself to continue, relishing in the agony of remembering when Lucifer was cast.

''Yes, my dear, and you nearly got caught in the crossfire. It can't happen again, there is no other being like you and there never will be. The stories are that God nearly killed himself trying to create you, you are everything he wanted humanity to be.'' She smiled at this, he was trying to cheer her up with a bit of complimenting. ''Even if you are stubborn.'' She slapped his chest, as a farce and let out a small cachinnate.

---

Everyone was silent, things started to get heavy on thought and reason. No one could think of a word to say.

''One more for good measure, then we will asses you, Y/n.'' Uh, what does that mean?

---

The quiet air that surrounded the two was comforting and safe, content and peaceful. Y/n and Gabriel sat opposite one another, his wings lay in her lap as she did what she does best. Her hands traced up the outer lining of his wings, from top to bottom, before moving in the the inner feathers. She rolled a collection of feathers between her fingers each time she moving a few inches down, softly and gently. Working out the stress and the tightness that wound itself within them, he holds onto her knee, using it as a gripping post every once in a while. It wasn't a pain thing though, it was quite the opposite, the gratification and the bliss he was receiving from such a special moment was intense.

''I don't know why, I think your wings are my favourite.'' She hums out, brushing out the feathers she had been fixing in a swoop from the height of his wing and downwards, before moving on to the next section.

''Oh, really?'' Gabriel couldn't resist the playful tone residing in his comment, but that was what Y/n loved, he wasn't afraid to tease her.

''Without a doubt, they're mesmerising. Such a beautiful colour, and shape. They suit you so well.'' Slowly, she leans forward to kiss the corner of his mouth, before gently pulling herself back.

''Come on, sweetheart! You can do better than that-'' His voice is cut off by a staggering gasp as she unwinds a knot in his feather,  gripping her knee tight, he swoons.

She doesn't say a word, yet she picks up her head again, craning towards the angel's face. While continuing to brush out his ailerons of flight, she kisses him again, direct and strong. She moves against his lips with such care but much passion, Gabriel couldn't resist the slip of his tongue to her, she wasn't in any way complaining.

---

''Okay, that was upsetting to watch.'' Richard grumbles, we find ourselves back inside the green room, standing in front of us remain Chuck and Gabriel.

''You're telling me.'' I let a slanted expression reach my face.

''You mean you still don't remember?'' Gabriel's frown tugs at my heart, I feel something for him, but not as immense as what we have been watching.

''I have something that might work, but it might...do something?'' Chuck gives out a nervous chuckle, small and barely there.

''Do it, I need her back, I don't care about the consequences unless it hurts her.'' The strain and torment in his intonation is dismal.

''It won't hurt her, but it might- never mind, if it happens then it happens, if it doesn't then you will be happy you didn't know.'' Chuck walks towards me with purpose and I cower back slightly, a stern alarm on my face.

''W-Woah there, what are you doing?'' I reach out my hands in a 'stop' motion, he grabs hold of them.

''Bringing back your memory, I need you to focus on the moments you just watched, think about how you felt during them.'' I thought back, I felt as if I was the girl in the grass, and in heaven and the girl who loved the angels. I revelled in the select memories, the beautiful memories. ''Good, carry on thinking about them and how you felt.''

I felt a warmth surge through my hands, as they remained connected to Chuck's.

''It's working.'' I peek open my eyes and look down at our hands. Mine are white and hold a holy glow, my eyes widen as I look at the magic.

''This is you?'' I ask, Chuck shakes his head.

''It's you, well, it's us. You have your own powers, but this kind can only be used when I am touching you. You know you have angelic advantages, from the show?'' He explains in a way I understand, I nod. ''D-Do you want to remember this world? Along with your true one?'' I bit my lip before answering.

''I would, some people I can't let go.'' I look towards Rob, who stood off towards the side, the group of my colleagues still in shock of the situation, some whispering to each other.

''I see. Are you ready?'' The heat is getting more intense in my hands, a burning hot white light shines from then.

''I think so.''

''I need to warn you, you may not like what could happen next.'' He unclasps our hands before reaching up to sandwich my head between them. It wasn't painful, it was peculiar, my body went numb. This took around a minute before he took his hands of me.

My mind and his instantly travelled to a secluded world. It was barren and empty, but beautiful, Red sand and burnt skies surrounded me, small oasis' patched around. The sun was in a constant set, never going up nor down.

''Where are we?'' I asked Chuck, he was dressed in a white pant and shirt, I looked down towards myself. I was enclosed by a gorgeous lengthy white garment, a golden sash across my waist.

''We're in your head. How are you feeling?'' I smile.

''Like myself, thanks Chuck, nice to meet you by the way- can't believe I haven't said that yet, after all Gabe has told me.''

''Um, okay, this is going to be awkward to ask. What do you feel? When you look at me, that is.''

''Hm...'' I look into his soft eyes. I felt as if I belonged there, like it was home. My whole existence within his soul.

''That's- not good.'' He must have read me, because I didn't say that out loud. I widen my eyes, starting to panic. ''I-I mean, it could be? It depends how you feel on the matter.'' He tries to soothe me.

''Explain.'' Was all I said.

''We- well. I've linked us, not on purpose. You're life's fulfilment is with me now, along with the angels. I'm not your creator anymore, I'm your equal. Yet you are not light nor dark, your the meld of both, a mediator if you will. The love for the angels, can be found within myself now. I'm sorry, I never thought it would actually happen.'' I'm guessing this is the first time he has ever apologised, I don't know how but- I feel like I know everything about him. The almost humanitarian way he dabbles jn his powers is confronting.

''Yes, that's another edge you have, you know everything about me now, you know who I am and what I've done.'' He looks ashamed and off to the side.

''You may not be proud of who you are, but I am-'' I hold his hand and turn his head with my other. ''You're the creator, just because you have done bad things, does not mean you're a bad person.'' I feel like I've known him my whole life, I technically have. He remains silent.

''We will have our time, go seem them. If you ever need to see me and I'm not around, think of this place and I'll meet you here, no matter how far apart we are.'' He extracts us from the sanctuary.

I'm back in my own body, looking around at the awkward faces of my peers. We must have been stood, staring into space for some time.

''Hey-''I turn to Gabe as he speaks, walking towards him before I stop dead in my tracks. I swiftly run back to Chuck, slamming my lips against his, I feel my heart stutter in the shock of my own actions. He kisses me back with much more passion, before I pull away. I look at Rob, his mouth his hung open, using my power I look into his head.

He's shocked and- jealous. He thinks it's invigorating to see a version of himself kiss you. Realising he could've admitted his feelings to you, perhaps you wouldn't have gone back to them.

''Well- okay, that's new.'' Gabriel mutters, his voice cracks in the middle of his speech.

I turn and run towards Gabe.

''Don't worry, you're still my favourite.'' He yanks me into a hug, pulling me into a compact hug, I wrap my legs around his waist.

He whispers some enochian into my ear, I bite my lip and smile. Along the lines of 'should I book the hotel now or later?'.

''You know full well we don't need to do that.'' I couldn't help but tease him back, he sighs in content, happy to have us back.

''I'm- confused, what the fuck is going on?'' Sebastian calls.

''If you want, you can make them forget, Y/n.'' Chuck announces, a valley of yelling and protests wash over me from the Supernatural cast.

''Can I? It could be for the best...'' I trail off, the cast look at me with hurt in their eyes, I decide to communicate with Rob through his head.

'Rob' He looks around, alarmed. 'I'm in your mind, don't panic'

'How could you? I know you aren't meant to be here but please don't make me forget you' I could hear the pain within him.

'I won't completely, you'll know me, but not as who I am. You will know me as your colleague and friend, I'll visit you'

'I love you, I'm sorry I never said it' I heard his heart shatter.

'I love you too, maybe we can develop something in the future' Maybe I was asking too much of myself, maybe not.

''You ready to go back?'' Chuck waltzes toward me and Gabriel. ''Other angels want to see you, I can hear them, it's rather annoying.'' I smile at the thought of seeing them all again, this time knowing who they are to me.

''I think so.'' I turn back to say my goodbyes.

''Misha, you are one of the most genuine and kind people this Earth can offer, I'm so happy I met you.'' I move forward to hug him, channelling my power, as soon as I leave this plane it will activate- leaving them in the state they were before.

''Mr. Sheppard, you smarmy bastard, never change. The world couldn't take it. I'll see you soon.'' I step forward to hug him.

''My, my, Pellegrino, a tear? Not going soft on me, are you?'' He shakes his head, rolling his eyes at me. ''I'll miss you and your karaoke.'' I hug him, he holds on a little longer, refusing to let me go. I look at him with sad eyes, before turning to Sebastian.

''You and your attitude Roche, you're such a light person, you'll see me again and I promise you that. Keep up the humour, you're not yourself without it.'' I hug him, ejecting a powerful wave.

''Richard, I will admit you are my best friend, even when you're trying to sleep with everything that walks. Take care of Robbie for me, I won't be too long before my next visit, so hold on.'' I grip him in my arms, pulling gently on his beard as we part, before getting mockingly swatted away.

I couldn't sat goodbye to Rob, looking at his disheartened face. ''R-Robbie-'' I tried not to cry, saying goodbye to so many friends is breaking me.

''I can't explain how much you mean to me, I love you, in every way you can imagine. I love you all.'' I hug Rob, not wanting to let go.

''Please don't go.'' His whimper makes me finally let out tears.

''I need to. I promise I'll return.'' I think about my next action, before deciding on it.

'Pull away if you don't want this.' I say to him, his head is swimming with agony.

Kissing him, very lightly, I feel tears mix on my lips. I pull away before I get too attached.

''Gonna miss you, so much.'' He whispers to me, clutching my shirt in his hands.

''I have to go, bye Benedict, till we meet again.'' I try to spin a comedic affect into my words, stepping away from my best friends.

Chuck holds out his hands, Gabriel and I connect to them. I shut my eyes, I can't face what I'm leaving behind. I feel a golden illumination against my shut eyelids.

It's not forever, but I will miss them.

[cosmicoceanfic]

2.2k, available on AO3

Dean and Cas jog down the stairs of the Bunker, duffle bags in hand. Sam notices that they seem a little looser in the way they walk, which is a relief. Both Dean and Cas have been holed up in their respective rooms for the past few weeks. It’s good that their trip to bury God’s book for Jack worked out for them.

“Hey, Sammy.”

“Hello, Sam.”

“Hey, guys.” Sam smiles, closing his book and standing. “How was your trip?”

“Went alright.” Dean dumps his duffle bag on a chair. “Cas and I got married. Taught him how to change a tire.”

Sam drops the book. It lands on the ground with a heavy thud. “You what?”

“Taught him how to change a tire,” Dean says, a little slower this time.

“No, not that one, the other- you got married?”

“Yeah.”

“The tire changing exercise was helpful.” Cas drops his duffle bag as well. “Especially since I will be continuing to use my truck.”

Sam can’t tell if they’re actually, legitimately fucking with him or not. “You weren’t even a couple when you left!”

“Then we were,” Cas says. “And then we were married.”

“How long was it between getting together and getting married?”

“Bout, hm.” Dean turns to Cas. “Three days?”

“It was on the third day, yes.”

Sam gapes at them.

“Why?” he manages.

Dean shrugs.

“Mostly we thought it’d be funny,” he says.

Sam doesn’t even have an answer to that.

“Aw, buck up, Sammy,” Dean tells him. “It’s almost like you’re not happy for us.”

There’s a slight apprehensive edge to his tone that snaps Sam out of his reverie. “Of course I’m-“ he moves around the table and hugs Dean, who allows it, and then Cas, who brightly returns it. “Congratulations, guys. Long time coming, I guess.”

“Thanks, man.” Dean claps his hands together, which Sam sees now has a faint glint of gold to it. “I’m hungry. Cas, you hungry?”

“I am almost always hungry.”

“Part and parcel of being human, buddy.” Dean gives him a clap on the shoulder. “C’mon. I’ll make us sandwiches.”

Sam watches, still feeling somewhat bewildered, happiness for them somewhere rolling around in that haze, as the two head out of the room, linking hands as they turn towards the hallway.

This isn’t the whole truth, naturally.

This is the reality:

For three weeks, Cas and Dean had hardly spoken, too uncomfortable, too awkward, until Jack had asked them for help, and if there was anything they could not ignore, it was their son coming to him when he needed them.

The trip to bury the book in a remote corner of the country had changed things, softened them, slowly but surely, until after five days, Dean plucked up his courage.

“Cas?” Dean had said as they walked into their motel room for the evening. Cas had looked at him, blinking sleepy eyes, patient.

“I love you,” he’d told him, steeling himself for whatever it was that came next.

“I know,” Cas had answered.

Dean had stared before he could get out “did you just Han Solo me?”

A soft, almost bashful expression crept across Cas’s face, shrugging his shoulders.

Dean gaped.

“Son of a bitch,” he’d said, and lunged in for a kiss.

Three days later, after slow and less slow kisses, linked hands as they drove on back roads, curling up in the same bed, exhausted from the road, Dean left to go get coffee for him and Cas when he stumbled across a pawnshop.

It was a gut decision. The sort you make without thinking through the implications, because it just feels right in the moment, and how could it be anything else later?

It caused more low level panic, however, after the two cheap gold rings had been purchased. He looked down at them in the little plastic baggy they’d given him at the pawnshop.

It’s a lot, he’d thought. It’s a lot, really fast. And he could already picture the look on Sam’s face when they came home, contorted in that specific expression he got when he’s pissy about being confused, the you left for one week and you came back-

Dean closed his fist around the bag before he shoved it in his pocket, stopping by the little donut shop and picking up two coffees and a couple crullers. When he got back to the motel, Cas was in one of his last clean tee shirts and toweling off his hair.

“Got these,” Dean said, putting them on the little piece of furniture the TV rested on. This was a bad idea. He was already acutely aware of what a bad fucking idea this was. His stomach wouldn’t stop clenching. “Little sign in the window says it’s one of the best restaurant in the area according to the newspaper. Course, it could be a really shit newspaper, so-“

“Why are you nervous?” Cas squinted at him as he sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his socks. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Is there something supernatural in town that requires our attention?”

“No.” Dean had spent his whole goddamn life successfully bluffing his way out of situations and Cas could see he’s nervous at the drop of a pin. “How can you tell I’m nervous?”

He looked almost exasperated. “I know you. I know when you’re nervous.”

He did, didn’t he?

Hell, even if it wasn’t too late to back out now, he wouldn’t want to.

“Don’t freak out,” he said.

“I’m not freaking out.”

“Okay, well.” He sat down on the ground. Kneeling would be… too far. Too much. He was going to have to do this in a way that made sense or he was gonna panic. “Don’t… start freaking out.”

Cas leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he’d said clearly. “And I will not start freaking out.”

Dean got distracted just looking at his face for a few seconds, which had to be in the top ten dumbass Dean Winchester moments, but when Cas’s eyebrows went even further up his forehead he cleared his throat and started fumbling in his pockets.

“Do, uh.” He held out the bag to Cas, who took them with a vaguely baffled expression. “Do you want to wear these?”

Cas stared down at them, bewildered.

“Are these what I’m assuming they are?” he asked slowly.

“Um. I mean, I can’t read your mind, Cas, but-“ Cas gave him a very particular look. “Yes. Yes, those are… what you think they are.”

Cas turned them over in his hands. “Oh.”

“We don’t need to do the whole… shebang. We could just wear them. Unless you wanted to do the whole shebang.”

“I don’t know about ‘shebang’.” Cas did finger quotes while still holding onto the rings and Dean kind of wanted a do over where he did this better just looking at him make them. “It feels like it’s very fast and a long time coming, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, well.” Dean looked down at his hands. “Look, I’m not good at this. You had this whole speech and it was… really good and I’m not. I’m not good at making those speeches. But it’s just… been you, man, it’s been you for a really long time. And it’s the kind of thing where your gut is to say it was always gonna be you, but it wasn’t, right? It wasn’t always gonna be us, Chuck said as much, so that makes it… better, doesn’t it? It makes it better cause we did it ourselves. Even when we didn’t know we were working at it together, we were working at it together. And I’m so glad it was you. Of course I’m so glad it was you. And I want to be doing this with you for as much forever as we get, so. It just… made sense, even though it kinda makes… no sense. I want to do all this with you anyway. The rings, they’re just… they’re just giving it a clearer name than it had before. And if you don’t want that, then it’s fine, because I’ll be here with or without them.”

A heavy silence hung in the air. Dean stared with a little determination at his hands, waiting.

“It was a nice speech,” Cas said, sounding a little choked.

“S’okay.”

“No. It was nice.” Dean finally looked up to see Cas looking a little amused, eyes wet. “Take the compliment, Dean.”

Dean swallowed. “Okay.”

Cas gently turned the bag over in his hand, pulling it up and lightly tipping them out into his palm. He held it out to Dean, who slowly took one of them. They sat there, both holding onto their rings.

“Last chance to take it back,” Cas whispered.

Dean coughed out a bark of laughter. “You first.”

Cas made a similar noise. He quietly slid his ring on at the same time Dean slid on his. He stared at his hand, tilting it this way and that. The gold glinted a little.

“Hey,” he mumbled, unable to keep the slightly giddy grin off his face. “Look at that.”

“Yeah.” A hand slipped into his field of vision as Cas linked theirs together. Dean stares at them, gold against gold. “Look at that.” Cas squeezed it. “Did you ever think someday you’d…”

“No.” Dean swallowed, looking up at him, still grinning. “No, I figured I’d be dead by now.”

Even a joke about his death didn’t seem to be enough to tamp down Cas’s grin. “I’m very glad you’re not.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Not just for this. Dean had a lot of reasons to be grateful to be alive these days, more than he’d ever expected. But this? This was number one right now.

“We can do the shebang if you want.” Cas couldn’t seem to pry his eyes off their joined hands, either. “I don’t… know much of what’s required for such things. But we can do it, if you want.”

“Can we just… see how it goes?” He winced. “I mean, see how it goes like, see how we feel about that, not like, see how this goes, I’m, I’m really clear on how solid I am about-“

“Yes. I know.” Cas stood and pulled Dean up with him. He was about to groan about how fast he pulled him up when Cas lightly tugged him forwards and kissed him, which is about the only thing that would have made Dean let go of his hand. “It’s only wise to take at least some part of this slow.”

He wouldn’t always, he thought. He kinda liked the idea of a big party with all their friends and maybe Sam officiating, even though he’d never stop hearing about it. But everything that had happened had happened in the space of a few days and he just needed… more than that few days to process it.

“Did you want my last name?” Dean had asked.

“Of course I want your last name. I don’t have a last name.” Cas looked thoughtful. “I think we should tell Sam we did it because it was funny.”

Dean kissed him again. “I’m so glad I married you.” It did funny things to his stomach just to say it.

“You didn’t marry me.” Dean rarely got to see Cas’s face like this, split open with a grin so wide his nose scrunches up. “You threw a ring at me.”

“Handed you. I handed you a ring.”

“It felt like throwing.”

“Give it back, you son of a bitch, I’ll do it again-“

“No-“ Cas laughed. “No, don’t you dare. I liked it how it was.”

“What are you giving me shit for, then?”

“You have found,” he said, still smiling wide. “A way for me to say I will give you shit forever.”

Dean swallowed.

“Awesome,” he manages.

“Your coffee’s getting cold and it’s presumably good coffee. Let’s reheat it and get on the road.”

Dean had taken his hand, then, linking their fingers up.

This is back to the present:

Dean and Cas are sitting in the kitchen at the little table. Cas is reading the newspaper while Dean eats his sandwich. Nobody eats faster than Cas, he thinks, not a person in the world, and the thought makes him suddenly, irrationally fond.

“You’re looking at me,” Cas says without looking up from the newspaper.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. Just am, I guess.” He gives him what he knows has to be a slightly dopey grin. Cas looks amused and returns his attention to the paper. Dean keeps watching him for another few moments.

“Husband,” he says finally.

“Hm?”

“Husband. That’s you. You’re my husband.”

Cas does look up then with a soft smile. “You’re my husband,” he replies, and kisses him gently. “Would you like to go find a movie to watch?”

“Sure.”

The two of them stand and walk out, hands linked, a quiet joy permeating the air between them, a high key contentment radiating off of them for all to see.

[maxineswritingcenter]

Maybe in Another Life - Dean x fem!reader part 4

In this universe, Chuck had won, Dean, Sam, and (Y/N) were the only ones left. They must find another reality to live so they can find a way to bring back their own. But after getting separated, (Y/N) must find her Dean while working with this universe’s hunters.

Also Season 15 spoilers

----------

2005

(Y/N) was a young hunter down on her luck. She was on her last twenty bucks and her last tank of gas. She wanted to get this hunt done so she could go down to Vegas to hustle a couple old men out of a couple hundred bucks. Selling pictures of her body wasn’t honest work, but it was work. 

For right now, hunting was more of a duty than a pay bill, her parents had been killed by a vampire clan with (Y/N) narrowly escaping. So when she heard that the vampires who killed her parents were back in town, she wanted revenge. The only problem was that she had to team up with John Winchester. The guy was a complete hardass, military-like instructions. He had little to no respect for anyone, including his own kid.  

After the hunt and telling Mr. Winchester the place on her body that he could place his dusty, crusty lips on, she was walking back to her car or as she liked to call it, the mansion. Behind her, she could hear a car pull up and John Winchester saying he would be back soon. She looked over her shoulder, seeing John getting in a car and his son, Dean watching the car leave. 

His eyes then landed on her. Dean started jogging towards her car. This outta be good. The guy was a flirt... A good flirt, but a flirt nonetheless. But something told her that behind shell was a heart of gold and so much trauma, it reminded her a lot of herself. Alone in a dark world that kept getting darker. 

“What’s wrong? Daddy dearest kick you out?” She asked as she opened the door and threw her bag into the passenger seat. 

“Uh no, he went out on his own for a hunt.” He looked at the ground awkwardly, “I wanna apologize about him. He’s kind of-” 

“An asshole?” She finished the sentence.

Dean slipped his hands into his pockets, “I was gonna say rough around the edges.” 

“If by rough you mean sandpaper.” She looked at him, “Sure.” 

Dean smiled, his bright green eyes sparkling, “I guess. Uh, where you headed?”

She sighed and looked at him, “I dunno. Wherever I can earn my next dollar.” She got into her car and closed the door, turning the key. And turning the key. The key, turning. Car not starting. 

“Son of a bitch!” She slammed her hand against the wheel. Dean gave her a innocent looked, leaning down into her window. 

“Did you know this model is notorious for just not working?” 

She looked back at him, “I am well aware.” She rested her head against the steering wheel, “It was all I could afford at the time. And now I’m screwed.” 

“Well...” He opened her door, “You could hitch a ride with me.” She turned her head, narrowing her eyes at him.

“What’s the catch? Because this.” She motioned to her body, “Aint free.” 

Dean backed off quickly, holding his hands up in surrender, “Woah woah, sweetheart. I ain’t that kinda guy. Not that you’re not...” He looked her up in down, “Incredibly beautiful. But I feel like you deserve it after my dad said what he said.”

“You mean when he told me that the reason the vampires killed my parents was because I wasn’t strong enough at the ripe age of ten?” She got out of the car, grabbing her bag. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” He smirked, “I also wanted to apologize for that over a slice of pie at that diner we passed on the way into town.” She hummed, tapping her chin as she walked to the back of her car, hitting it just right so that the trunk opened. 

“I don’t have any money.” She said, “So I can’t pay you back until later.” 

“I don’t have money either.” He shrugged, reaching into the trunk and grabbing a suitcase of all her worldly possessions, “I’m just really good at shooting pool.” 

-

“Hey dad, it’s Dean again... Why aren’t you answering your phone? And what the hell was that voicemail you left me?” (Y/N) watched Dean grip onto the payphone tightly. They were sitting outside an apartment near Stanford university where Dean was going to talk his brother into trying to find their dad on a hunt that he hadn’t come back and hadn’t answered his phone. In the days since Dean and (Y/N) had been driving, they had actually gotten to know each other very well, they were becoming close friends. 

After the line went dead, Dean got back into the Impala and cursed, gripping onto the steering wheel. 

“Look, you don’t have to be apart of this if you don’t want to.” Dean looked at (Y/N). 

She shook her head, “You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Dean-Bean.” She reached into her bag of cherry twizzlers, taking a bite, “Plus.” She said around the candy, “He may be an asshole, but he probably needs help.” 

Dean chuckled, leaning over and taking a bite of the twizzler in her hand, “I appreciate it, sweetheart.” He winked.

“Awh.” She pouted dramatically, “I don’t get a fun nickname?” 

“How about snookums?” 

“Oh absolutely not.” She laughed. 

“Honeybunches?” 

“No.” 

“Sugar booger?” 

“The Spanish word for no is no.” 

Dean shook his head, “Alright, alright. How about sweetheart when you’re sweet, and sweet-tart when you’re a little crabby?” 

“I do not get crabby.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Really?”  He raised his eyebrows at her. 

She rolled her eyes, reaching down on the floor of the car in front of her and pulling a burger out of the bag, “Shut up and eat.” 

- 

2006

After the semi truck crashed into them, John, Sam, and (Y/N) were left with minor injuries while Dean was left in critical condition. He was in a coma, hooked up to a wall of machinery and a breathing tube in his throat. 

(Y/N) had been confined to her room with a broken ankle, kept in touch by Sam who would come in to explain what was happening. Dean was in the space between life and death and John was going to summon the demon he had been searching for to get revenge against him for... well, for everything.

As she lay in her bed, tears in her eyes, she spoke to no one, but hoped he was listening.

“I don’t know if you’re hear right now, Dean. But...” She inhaled deeply, “But I want you to know that I love you.” She chuckled, “And I know you’re probably thinking that I’m only saying this because you’re having your out of body experience moment and you could die. The reality is that I love you. You put up that flirty, whore persona, but I know who you really are. Those nights when we’re alone and we talk about our lives together and depression backstories. I’ve never trusted anyone more. And I love you. So...” She looked around, “So please, don’t die on me. I don’t know if I can do this without you.” 

Finally, (Y/N) had managed to get into a wheel chair in the night, the night that Dean woke up. The night John died in the basement of the hospital, giving his life for Dean’s. 

Sam was passed out asleep in a chair next to Dean’s bed while Dean was wide awake, staring out the window. 

“Hey...” She said softly, rolling up to the side of his bed. He glanced at her, a small smile pulled at his lips. 

“How’s it goin’, hot wheels?” 

She sighed, “You were literally in limbo this morning, but now we’re laughs?” 

“Gotta get through the pain somehow.” He looked back towards the window. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a slight squeeze. 

“I’m sorry about your dad.” She said, “My last words weren’t kind to him. If I would have known...” 

Dean shook his head, “Nah, you had every right to talk to him like that. Especially after the last few days.” He looked down at her, “I heard you by the way.” 

Her eyes widened, “No, you didn’t.” 

“Yeah, I did.” 

“No, no, you didn’t.” 

“You called me a whore.” He spoke in a hushed voice, taking a small glance at Sam before looking back at (Y/N). 

“Well, you are.” She shrugged, “Kinda.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed, “Look... My point is... The feelings are mutual.” Her eyes widened. 

“I was on death’s door, I’m not gonna deny what I’m feeling anymore.” He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on her knuckles, “I love you.”

-

As they started searching around the town, Sam was finally able to get ahold of Dean. 

“Dean? Dean, is everything alright?” Sam asked into the phone. Jack and (Y/N) head’s snapped back towards Sam on the phone. Her heart felt a little less heavy then. Dean was alive and that meant she hadn’t lost everything. 

“Okay, we’re in downtown Hastings, we really need to plan out our next move.” Sam said. After a moment, Sam looked up at her, “Yeah, she’s still here.” 

That was the other thing that made her heart feel heavy, call it survivors guilt. She came from a dead universe, just like all those hunters had, and she was still there. 

- 

It was scary being on an empty planet. You never realize how much noise the world made until the world had gone silent. Everyone in Hastings was gone. Everyone in Minnesota was gone. The whole world. They were all that was left. They made to an intersection on an empty street. Cars stopped or crashed where they were last operated. The soft puttering of the Impala made them pause. Dean parked it on the street corner, getting out and looking around the abandoned town. 

Dean walked over to the group, closest to (Y/N), reaching down and holding her hand. She welcomed this touch, knowing it well. He was devastated, he needed something to ground to the world. He was shaking slightly, not enough to be detected by the human eye. 

“Everyone's gone.” Sam said, “You see anybody on the way here?”

“No.” Dean answered, sounding like he didn’t believe it himself. 

“I couldn't save anybody. Billie-”

“It wasn't Billie. It was Chuck.” Dean said. 

“What?” Sam and (Y/N) asked together. 

“Where's Cas?” Jack asked. It was only then that she realized that Cas was no where to be found. And when Jack said his name, Dean’s hand clenched down on hers. 

“Dean?” Sam asked hesitantly. 

Dean looked everywhere but the Nephilim, “He saved me. Billie was coming after us, and Cas summoned the Empty. It took her. And it took him. Cas is gone.” Jack looked like his whole world had fallen apart, and it had. His father was gone. 

“This can't be happening.” Sam shook his head. Maybe in a state of shock. 

“It is, Sam. I think everyone's gone.” Sam shook his head, bringing his phone out and making a call. 

Dean dropped her hand, walking to the young boy, “Jack, I'm sorry.” (Y/N) stayed in his position in the street, looking around. 

This was impossible. They had no option. No plan. It all seemed so hopeless. Maybe she couldn’t save them... She couldn’t save this world. How could she save a world that was already gone?

-

They made their way to a diner in town and made their way inside to regroup. The diner looked like everyone had dropped what they were doing - eating- and disappeared. Food was still on the table, the fryer was still crackling in the kitchen. On the television was what was supposed to be a football game, but all the screen showed was an empty stadium and an empty field. 

“Hey,” Dean motioned to the TV, “It brings a whole new meaning to the term "sudden death." He turned the bar’s tap off so the stream of beer coming from the stout ceased. 

“Do you think we're it?” Sam asked, “All that's left?”

Dean chuckled darkly, “Yeah. You, me, her, Jack.” He looked out to the window where Jack was sitting on a large cement planter. He asked for space to come to terms with the fact that Castiel was gone. He needed it. Honestly, they all needed it. She had lost Cas before, but losing him again was twice as hard. Dean had poured himself a pint. Alcohol had always been his vice. 

Soon enough though, Jack made his way inside, staring at the hunters, “Hey. So, um, what now?”

“I did this.” Sam spoke up, “We could have just given Chuck what he wanted, you know, his grand finale. But I resisted. I pulled the thread. I thought we could beat this game, do it better. We tried to rewrite him, and the whole world paid the price.” Sam looked at (Y/N), “I’m sorry. But you’re mission to save us... I ruined it.”

“Sam, we can-” 

“We can what?” Sam interrupted his brother, “There's nothing left, Dean. No one left to save. Everybody's gone.”

“You can't just give up.” Jack spoke up. 

“What other choice do we have?” Sam snapped back. 

-

Sam and Dean decided to hash it out with Chuck, agree to his ending of brother against brother. If it meant that they could get things back to the way it was, maybe they could try something new. They had dropped (Y/N) and Jack off at the bunker before leaving. 

The two were left at the bunker, hoping the plan would work, but frankly their nerves were shot that hope seemed like a fever dream. (Y/N) had made food but both of them were too emotionally devastated to really eat. 

As (Y/N) was cleaning up dishes, Jack walked into the kitchen silently. 

“(Y/N)?” He asked. 

She turned and gave him a soft smile, “Yeah?” 

Jack came around, grabbing a dish towel and slowly drying off a bowl, “I was just wondering what I was like in your world.” 

She hummed, “You’re pretty much the same. I think you ate a little more nougat though.” 

“I feel like I was happier.” He said, drying a cup. 

“Why’s that?” 

Jack paused his drying and looked up at her, “Because I would have had you since the beginning. You have been so kind and warm to me. Even after all the things I’ve done.” 

She looked at him, handing him a plate, “Jack-a-bug, you have powers that angels have had millennia to master.” She looked at him, “You’re still learning. When you’re learning sometimes you do things you didn’t mean to and you feel awful. But for how long you’ve been with us, with how much you’ve learned, I think you’re doing great.” 

Jack nodded and then looked at her with a head tilt that reminded her so much of her friend in the trench coat, “Jack-a-bug?” He asked. 

She let out a small laugh, “Oh yeah.” She shook her head, “That’s what I called my Jack. I had a lot of nicknames for you. Sweet boy, Dean two, Jack-a-bug. I’m pretty sure he hated it though.” 

“No.” He said, “I like them. They make me feel... Special.” 

She smiled, cupping his cheek, “That’s because you are. Not because you’re a Nephilim. Because you’re ours.” He smiled weakly, then excused himself to bed. 

(Y/N) was sitting at the world map table, waiting for the brothers to get home. When they did, she stood up from the table, look expectantly. Sam only shook his head and went straight to his room. Dean however stood in the entrance of the room. 

“What’d he say?” She asked. She had an idea of the answer, but she needed to hear it. 

“Uh, he wants us to rot here.” He said casually. He walked into the room, cupping her cheeks in his hands, “So what do you say me and you play catch-up over some whiskey?” 

“Dean-” She said, holding his wrists to take them off her cheeks. 

“Sweet-tart.” He sighed, looking down at her, “There’s nothing we can do right now. Or maybe at all. Please.” He rested his forehead on hers, “Can we please just... Let’s just have tonight. No universe difference, no your Dean my (Y/N). Just be mine for tonight.”

“Okay.” She said softly, giving his hands a squeeze, “But if you call me sweet-tart again, I’m gonna drink your good whiskey that you hide in garage.” 

He narrowed his eyes, a sly smile on his face,��“How do you know where I hid that?"

She hummed and leaned up, rubbing her nose on his, "Who do you think put it there in the first place."

He chuckled, dropping his hands from her face to her hands, pulling her towards the garage.

-------------

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[nothingtoseehd]

eah characters as cavetown songs

this was inspired by @/applewhiteapologist's eah characters as taylor swift songs, sooooooo yeah

some characters might not be here because: 1. it's hard to find songs for them (as of right now) 2. i forgot them/i'll do them if i have more time

apple white - devil town v2/green

-i chose devil town v2 because it seemed the most, uh, apple out of all the devil town versions? devil town v1 seems edgy-ish, and devil town v3 seems lower and calmer, i think???? maybe i just chose this because it has those light, floaty chords, i'm not sure, i'm not smart or anything -also i honestly felt like this was hard -i chose devil town because it could represent the future she pictured in her mind when raven didn't sign the book -i don't really know what to explain green, but like, ashlynn and apple in true hearts day??? that's the best way i could explain this song -lyric analysis time: --"i still get a little scared of something new, but I feel a little safer when i'm with you, falling doesn't feel so bad, when I know you've fallen this way too" ---apple is "a little scared of something new" because she's in for an unpredictable future without the storybook of legends ---for the falling part, it's like she's not so sad about being led astray when she's with her friends maybeeeeeee -lyrics for green because i can't explain it but it's just THERE: --"you looked so good in green i hope you’re well and you look so good with him and i’m proud of you still take care of my shirt warm and red i hope you think of me still as your friend i hope you love yourself your body and heart i hope you feel happy that’s all i want that's all i want"

raven queen - devil town v1 (dang it there's no purple text so have plain text)

-i just chose devil town v1 because i think it would work well with her guitar, i actually don't know how guitar works but i'm pretending to know how it works, don't tell anyone i don't know how they work -i think this song could represent her home life and whatnot because she's living with the evil queen -it's lyric analysis time!!: --"you said something dumb again, she's mad, at least that's what they say" (i just used orange so the lyrics wouldn't blend in as much) ---the something dumb thing could be like a 'nice deed' the evil queen doesn't like, and she's mad because of that --"we're all dead in devil town, that's fine, cause nothing's gonna scare us now" ---she's 'dead' after all the nagging and 'be eviL EMBRACE YOUR INNER EVIL' shit and it's now the normal, and it's not going to scare her since it's basically her life now -also slowed devil town can fit her too

madeline hatter - hug all ur friends/talk to me

-she's just so friendly?????? and supportive?????? and oh gosh i need a hug???????? -seriously though, they suit her because she feels so much like a huggy, supportive person and she's friends with everyone sooooooooooooo, hugs for everyone!! except you crystal!! and headmaster grimm!! not forgiving for the time you almost banished maddie!! -the lyrics because i can't explain these songs, it's just that maddie vibe, you know?: --"life’s too short to worry about things that we got wrong, so hug all your friends and let them know, you’re not letting go, i’m not letting go" (hug all ur friends) --"you don't have to be a prodigy to be unique you don't have to know what to say or what to think you don't have to be anybody you can never be that's alright, let it out, talk to me" (talk to me)

briar beauty - pigeon

-i had a very hard time with her but i think this kinda fits -it generates a sleepy vibe? (even though i didn't get this from the sleepyhead album *cough cough*) -okay, so the reason why i chose this for her is because of the chorus, which could kind of tie in with her destiny, with the 100 year coma -have the chorus for reference: --"didn’t give me time to say goodbye in the way that i wanted to, so honey, close your eyes and stay like you’re supposed to do, don’t know how i’m gonna live without, but i’ll stay strong for you"

ca cupid - sweet tooth/for you

-this is already self-explanatory if you listened to the song(s), buT IF YOU HAVEN'T YET, basically it's a song about an unhealthy crush and love and stuff -and you know who she has an unhealthy crush on???? that's right, it's blondie!! /hj (but seriously, in canon it's dexter but uH, i refuse to believe that, they're better off as friends) -lyric examples because like maddie, i can't really explain it but i know the vibe is THERE: --"a sweet tooth for you, i'm wide awake, the sugar went straight to my brain, feel like a kid, i double tap, my chest with my fist, i like you, say it back, say it back"

cerise hood - snail

-snail iS SUCH A GREAT SONG OMG -snail kinda represents her childhood and 'not wanting to be born like this' because of her parents technically breaking destiny (stupid storybook of legends) -lyrics from the song because i kinda don't really need to explain this song more: --"i was just born like this, wish that i could change it" --"i'm hanging out with the foxes and the hounds, and when i fit in i'll break back out"

daring charming - boys will be bugs/lemons (technically cavetown is just a feature but he's still there so yeah)

-it's just about the vibes -and also about the fact that the person in the songs have to uphold some sort of standard (the songs' standards were about masculinity) and i thought it could fit daring because he also has to uphold a standard (being the perfect charming prince) -also in lemons, daring's part is the one where cavetown sings it (if that wasn't obvious) -also ANOTHER LEMONS SIDE NOTE, i'd imagine rosabella singing brye's part, just because -lyrics time: --"don't mess with me, i'm a big boy now and i'm very scary i punch my walls, stay out at night, and i do karate don't message me 'cause i won't reply, i wanna make you cry ain't that how it's supposed to be? though it isn’t me boys will be bugs, right?" (boys will be bugs) --"so i'm gonna take it out on you too proud to show i'm hurting push it on you 'til you're burning" (lemons)

darling charming - 888/trying

-888 is a fun song, very groovy, has peppa pig plasters, 10/10 -main reason i chose 888, it kinda feels gay when you put it under a certain light?????????? -and snail could also fit with darling but i don't want to rob cerise -i was very stuck for a second song for darling because i felt obligated to give the charming siblings two songs because they're that top tier, but i think trying could be a good fit to some extent -could be like 'not great relationship with parents, struggle to fit with their standards ever since she found out she wanted to be a hero or something' -i still do think snail is a better fit for darling but i really really don't want to rob cerise because cerise is amazing -some lyrics: --"i'm workin' things out clouds lookin' strange papercut fingers dancing on the strings if i could see you right now i'd dance just for you when the nightlight goes out" (888) --"please let me know if you change your mind cause inside i'm falling And I need you to pull me out of this decline i realize how hard on you this must seem But trust me when i say it's far, far worse for me" (trying)

dexter charming - telescope/home

-telescope just feels like his vibe???? also because it kinda also have hopeless romantic-ness???? -also i headcanon him to be an astronomy nerd???? so that's fun???? that's my reasoning i guess???? (also, side-note i have just listened to astronomy by conan gray and it fits dexter) -ALSO HOME IS HERE BECAUSE DEXTER IS TRANS YOU CAN'T CHANGE MY MIND -also because it's also his vibe??????? -what time is it????? *clap clap* it's lyrics time!!: --"through the lens, it's dark, single-digit on the clock singing, "yessiree, i sure like-a you a lot" all i need is to get her she'll be happy if you let her" (telescope) --"turn off your porcelain face i can't really think right now and this place has too many colors, enough to drive all of us insane are you dead? sometimes i think i'm dead cause i can feel ghosts and ghouls wrapping my head but i don't wanna fall asleep just yet" (home)

okay the process of this post was just me staring at the lyrics and listening to cavetown a lot, sometimes during online classes but shhhh don't tell anyone (and finding more great songs)

is this post going to flop?? very very likely. do i care? eh, not sure, this was just me trying to put on my big brain hat.

also i realized while reading this post, that i never actually analyzed the majority of the songs' lyrics in this post?? so i'm very sorry

[sharkfish]

love ‘em, can’t live without ‘em: early-career writers!

[masterpost of rec lists]

new content creators are the lifeblood of fandom, so here i present stories by folks who have five or less destiel fics published (...so far) as of december 2020!!! 

please give them some love!!! 

under the cut since it got long~ 

the burden of belonging by Newtondale @soft-klaus (8k)

Dean doesn't know where he's going, he just drives.

He meanders. Takes whatever road he wants without worrying about efficiency or speed. He watches the landscape change around him as he heads east, towards the sea. Sometimes he listens to music, and sometimes he doesn’t. Most of the time he just thinks, the way he has always thought best; with an open road ahead and horror close behind.

Cas always comes back to him. Cas has always come back. Whether it takes minutes, or weeks, or months - Cas comes back to him.

But Cas hasn’t come back. How much longer is supposed to wait? Minutes? Months? How long is he supposed to live like this, like there’s nothing else that matters except the space beside him where Cas should be?

So he just drives.

Dean Winchester’s 12-Step Guide to Inebriated Online Retail Therapy for Fallen Angels and Judgemental Brothers With Bad Hair (Suck It, Sammy) by justholdingstill @justholdingstill   (3k) 

Alternatively titled Dean Wayne: The Life & Legend

Dean gets drunk. Dean orders things online. Hilarity ensues.

Hang-Ups by anupalya @anupalya (2k)

A slip of the tongue while hanging up a zoom meeting with Castiel leaves Dean in a panic.

****

Jsksdjdjskal

I'm starting to think you're letting Blueberry walk over your keyboard again.

i'm moving to Thailand

?????

I have to

Dean

I have no choice

... so I take it the meeting went well?

dream root & fumbling through the darkness by visionsofyerface @omnishamblegreg (1.3k)

Dean takes dream root for some fun angsty wanderings into Cas’s head, and then actually goes to the Empty, but Cas doesn't believe it's really him.

How Long? by MinxyOne93 @substitutesalt93 (WIP - 37k)

Dean has been going on reckless hunts by himself. Cas confronts him and all those years of unresolved pining come to a boiling point.

_

"Dean. How long?" The angel said, still quiet but so raw with emotion, eyes still wide with shock.

Dean looked down at the floor and sighed. "Since... always. I knew it for sure in Purgatory. But always." He then added in a near whisper, tears threatening to spill from behind his now closed eyelids, "I'm sorry, Cas."

"Sorry? You're sorry?" Castiel felt dumbfounded. The constant loneliness and longing he had sensed from Dean that seemed to grow worse and worse with the passing of years made so much more sense now.

"Dean," was all Cas could say before releasing his grip on his collar and gently, slowly, deliberately, kissing the corner of his mouth. A shocked gasp left Dean’s mouth of its own accord and he melted into Castiel's tight embrace.

It's The Thought That Counts by oceaxe @oceaxe-ifdawn (3k)

It’s Dean’s birthday and while angels have no birthdays, Castiel has a) been around human cultures for long enough to be aware of the nearly universal customs of celebrating the anniversary of a loved one’s birth and b) has been living with humans for long enough that he’s been included in some of those celebrations. But the art of gift-giving continues to elude his comprehension.

Lucky Winner by natmoose @natmoose (32k)

Dean wins a trip to Paris. In and of itself, that’s an amazing thing, but the problem is: he isn’t in a relationship with Lisa anymore, and the trip requires a romantic partner. The obvious choice is Cas, his roommate and best friend of 3 years, but coming with that are some very very complicated feelings and things Dean absolutely doesn’t want to deal with.

But Dean isn’t selfish and also really wants to give his overworked best friend a well deserved holiday, so the only and best solution is to take Cas to Paris, romantic theme be damned. What Dean doesn’t know is that their whole trip will be documented by a photographer from the company - so to avoid their vacation being cut short, Dean and Cas will have to convincingly play a couple.

Once Upon a Falling Star by GrandestBlood @grumpy-mccat (WIP - 3k) 

Alternate outcome for season 5's Endverse where Castiel never lost his grace but he was tricked to retreat back to heaven with the other angels, leaving Dean behind in the refugee camp.

Prompt for this was: The world has ended 500 years ago. You finally went back to Earth and discovered a voice message. You learn a shocking secret about 500 years ago.

Sending A Message by ivebeenpossessedbysatan @ivebeenpossessedbysatan (WIP - 15k)

Castiel Novak didn't expect to be kidnapped. Sure, he'd seen it happen before, but that was all in movies. Just because his mother had married into money didn't mean that someone was actually going to kidnap him and try to ransom him for money.

Only apparently it did, because here he was, tied to a chair in the corner of the most cliché warehouse he'd ever seen.

Why was this is life?

so leave me // at the roadside by LinkInThePark @saminzat (3k)

”This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone out on his own at all, but he was tired of sitting around in the bunker, where the walls seemed to close in on him and the halls were too empty at the same time. Where everything reminded him of what had happened, of the battles they had fought and the people they had lost.

Of the words left unsaid.”

Dean is taking the Impala on a ride, trying to escape everything that's happened... And, in the process, is finally forced to confront his grief. 15x19 coda.

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, but Words Might Get Me Laid by Mrs King of Hell (Slytherkins) @slytherkins (3k)

When Dean's name calling goes too far, Castiel decides to teach him a lesson in manners.

"Take a Sad Song and Make it Better" by Shishquah_CustardTree @shishquahcustardtree (WIP - 27k) 

After being bought and abused by Alistair for many years, Dean Winchester finally gets another chance at life and love by the means of a car crash and a bullet.

The One (1) Time Dean Winchester Tried Something New by archangelgabe @3dg310rdsupreme (2k)

What fun is a relationship that doesn't start with the gross misunderstanding that your crush is hitting on your kid brother?

The one where they get heaven-married by mercurialkitty @mercurialkitty (1.3k)

First a quick chat with Sam in the Impala, then it's off to find Cas.

A finale fix-it where Dean and Cas get heaven-married

There'll Be Peace When You Are Done by diaryofageekgirl @diaryofageekgirl  (5k) 

Somehow, in the middle of severing vamp necks in the dead of night in a run-down barn in Ohio, Dean had a revelation.

Or: nothing stays dead on Supernatural.

This is heaven by madbrilliant84 @madbrilliant84 (800)

“Come on dude! Don’t tell me you don’t know what your legs look like! I bet you could crush melons with those.”

Cas seemed incredibly amused by this. “And that’s something that turns you on?”

Dean smiled while biting is bottom lip. He slowly nodded. His playful tone dropped to something more heated.

“Uh huh. First thing I noticed when I saw you sitting on that bar stool.”

You're Not Alone by Wordsintothevoid @deancas-stan (15k)

Dean has an imaginary friend. Sure, that's weird as hell but he doesn't care. Cas has been there to support him during every horrible thing in Dean's short miserable life and he is not giving up Cas. Sure, Dean may also sorta kinda be in love with him. Oops. And it hurts but Dean will keep it platonic. But then Cas leaves. And then Dean breaks.

We’ll All Arrive in Heaven Alive by invisibledrugs @reasonsweweresinging (1k)

The Winchesters are finally dying, and for good.

But that's okay, because Dean knows what - and who - is waiting for him.

last but definitely not least, @uncastiel doesn’t have any fics yet but is taking prompts! 

[nonbinarychaoticstupid]

do 41 for catradora

ghost/living person au

behold! another thing i banged out and didn’t edit! kjjdnjjhdn this was fun! i decided to call it hello, my old heart after this song because i am cruel

(also... i think after i write the sequel bc i can’t just leave it like that i might expand this at some point or maybe write multiple versions? i like this a lot jejtnjrtnrnnm)

Adora doesn’t remember most of her childhood. Or much after that, really.

Everything up to the age of 18 is a... haze. Memories of life, of friends, of her identity, are either buried so deep she has to struggle to find them, or gone entirely. Faces, names, places, all gone somewhere she can’t follow.

It’s a given at this point, another piece of the debris of a life her carers left her with. She can’t fix it, and she can function without knowing her neighbour’s favourite colour, so why does it matter? It doesn’t hinder her too much, nor does it really make an impact on her functionality. It does annoy her, though, for reasons she can’t really explain.

There are things left behind in the fog of memory she... needs. Things that might explain this hole in heart, this deadening sense of loss that seems to follow her everywhere now. Things that might make everything make sense again.

Specifically, there’s... a memory of the traces of a memory. Someone Adora hurt, or someone who hurt Adora, or maybe both. And the girl who walked by her side for the first 18 years of her life, the girl who vanished at the drop of a hat, the girl she didn’t allow herself to grieve for. 

She knows how important the girl was to her. And missing her, dreaming about her without knowing why, hurts more than the loss. There’s something... something between them she has to fix. And it might hold the key to everything.

If she could remember, if she could find those shattered memories and piece them back together, she might remember why they took her past from her, and why Catra vanished. Why Catra died.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She doesn’t know exactly why she came here, to the shell of the abandoned home on the hillside. Maybe because it holds her last memory of a memory of Catra, alive and standing in front of her, laughing as she turns to push the door open. Maybe because it’s where she feels her memories... return, in whatever capacity they are able to,

It’s darker than she remembers it. The hole in the roof has since been covered with tarpaulin and framed with a web of crumbling scaffolding, leaving dark, angular shadows climbing the walls and forming ominous shapes on the floor. Adora couldn’t begin to try and decipher the patterns there if she tried.

If she focuses, she can trace the paths they left in the dust together as kids, winding around battered marble columns and up the staircases and back down again, like trails in the snow. 

Like... 

Adora pushes back the tears. Why am I crying? What is it about this place that-

Oh.

A memory. Of... her.

“You’re trying to remember me, aren’t you? Stars, I’m so sorry, Adora.”  

If she focuses, she can remember the first day they came here together, a pair of awkward 14 year olds with too much energy and too little time, and hid in the shadow of the stairs on the left, waiting for the night to pass. The details are blurred together, half-buried under a white haze, but if Adora tries, maybe she can -

She can’t. 

“You can. If you want, you can. What they did to you - it isn’t permanent. You can break out of it if you try. It’ll hurt, but you can. I did.”

She shakes the - the memory (a memory, nothing else - something she’ll have to sit and examine later) off. 

Adora picks her way across the floor, careful not to disturb the spiderweb of shadows. It feels... familiar, instinctual. Something more than muscle memory. Almost... almost like she’s being guided by the past she can’t reach.

There are memories here. Adora can feel them in the back of her mind, pushing her gently forwards, urging her on. 

She makes her way into the centre of the main hall of the building - it was a mansion once, she realises - and tries to picture it as it was before - well-lit, grand, beautiful. She tries to see it how Catra would have (because she knows how much she loved this place, even if she doesn’t remember it), filled with stars and candles. 

Adora switches off the torch and stretches out her hands, as though feeling her way forward, except there’s nothing to touch but air. And it feels... heavy. Like she’s being watched.

Except there’s no-one here. She’s alone. 

I’m alone. I’m alone... right?

“No.”

A growing feeling of terror rises, unbidden, in her chest, and she whirls around, brandishing the torch in front of her like some sort of sword, doing her best to  clamp down on the cry building in her throat.

Nobody. Nobody’s there. 

“I am. I’m right here. Adora, I’m right here -”

Adora lets her shoulders drop. She feels... defeated, for some reason. Empty. 

But the feeling doesn’t go away. And she can’t leave until something happens. She can’t leave until - until she gets her answers.

“What answers do you want, princess?” 

Okay, the voice was definitely real that time.

Adora spins around again, nearly dropping the torch, and - there she is. Or rather, a memory of her - a girl no older than seven, with a tangle of dark hair and vivid heterochromatic eyes, her outline flickering and fading and - 

She reaches out to touch her - and is met with empty air. The girl meets her eyes, and something in them looks so desperate that it makes her breath catch in her lungs, and then she just - vanishes. Melts into nothing. 

She almost cries out. Almost fucking sobs. Because she was right there, all the answers could have been within her reach, and she just watched the girl she almost remembers melt into dust- 

“Not her,” the voice tells her gently. “She’s not real. She used to be, but she isn’t now.” 

Adora shakes her head and doesn’t answer. 

“There are more of them here. Memories. Kinda.” 

“What happened to her?” Adora whispers. They’re the first words she’s spoken in a while, and her voice sounds disjointed and out of place, echoing over and over down the hallways.

Something settles on her shoulder (at least, she thinks it does). “She’s... a fragment. That’s the only way I can think of describing it.” A laugh, one she... recognises. “I think they’re all part of the memories they took from you. They’re shadows. I’m the only real one. Well, real-ish.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Turn around.” 

Her limbs don’t want to co-operate. Because I’m afraid of what I might see.

It takes a monumental effort to get to herself to rise, turn inch by inch, raise her eyes past the cracked floorboards. It takes even more to comprehend what she’s seeing.

“Hey, Adora.”

Catra. It’s - Catra.

Catra - but not. Not quite the girl she watched disappear from her memories three years ago. Her eyes are slightly hollower, her hair is shorter, and she’s... dead.

Very obviously dead, too. It’s not like Adora could miss a stab wound in the front of her shirt.

But... but she’s there, she’s standing right in front of her, wearing an infuriatingly familiar half-smile, and she wants to cry - 

“Ca... Catra?”

Her smile widens. “That’s me.”

“You’re here,” she whispers, and it comes out as more of a sob. She’s here she’s here she’s here she’s here - 

“You’re here,” Catra - Catra -  echoes, beaming. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” 

And Adora can’t do anything except let out a small sobbing noise in response. 

“Do you... remember?” she asks softly, hesitantly, hands toying with the fraying hem of her shirt. 

Adora shakes her head. “Not... much. I remember knowing you.”

Catra nods carefully. Her form has this odd translucent quality to it; she wonders if touching it would cause her to flicker like a hologram and vanish, only to re-materialise again in another place. “That’s something,” she offers. “Better than I’d hoped for, to be honest.” 

Her eyes fix on the torch in Adora’s hand, then flick back up. “I’d put that away if I were you. Light kind of... uh, dispels ghosts. That’s what I am. A ghost.” A smile. “I think.”

Adora stuffs it into her pocket without registering the movement. “H-how -”

“How do ghosts work?” Catra guesses. “Not sure. How am I a ghost? Again, not sure.” She shrugs, as though brushing it off. “It’s been... a long time.”

“I missed you,” she says, in a much smaller voice than she expected. “I missed you so much. I missed - I missed knowing you. I-” 

Catra smiles, and the movement causes her face to flicker at the edges, like static. “I missed you too. A lot.”

Adora bites back a sob. “Wha- What happened to you? How did you- ?” She shakes her head, shrugs. “Long story.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Adora catches herself staring at the outline of her form, the trails of half-shadows it leaves on the floorboards. In the half-light, she could almost be real. Alive.

She’s dead. She’s dead. It would hurt less if it wasn’t so clearly her fault.

“And - what about you?” Catra asks, breaking into her thoughts (which is a relief). There’s genuine concern in her eyes, she realises. 

She really cares about me. I must’ve cared about her, too - I do care about her. I just - why?

“I... also a long story. I think you know most of it already.” She huffs a laugh, blinking back tears. “More than me, at least.”

Catra nods again, slowly. Her eyes flick up and down, taking everything in like she’s seeing it for the first time. And some sort of realisation crosses them, then fades away as quickly as it came. 

“Do you want to... come back?” she asks. 

“Come back?”

“Come back. To the house. I could... I could show you what happened. If you want. It’s getting late, and Glimmer’ll be worried about you.”

Despite herself, Adora almost laughs. “You’re worried about me getting in trouble with my roommate for coming home late?”

Catra grins. “I’ve interacted with Sparkles before. She’ll be pissed, trust me.”

Adora smiles too, and for a moment, it could almost be - before again. Before her memories cut off and leave her with a white wall of nothing. Before Catra died.

“I don’t know if I can,” she says softly. “I might be... I might be dreaming, or you’ll be gone when I come back, or -”

“Trust me, I’m not going anywhere,” Catra cuts in. “I kind of can’t.”

She sits down on the floor and crosses her legs, a clear request for Adora to join her. “It’d be easier if I show you now, but I don’t want to make you pass out and have to figure out how to cart your ass back home.”

“Show me what?” Adora breathes. This is it. This is it. I might be able to... to fix things. Finally.

“What happened to me. And what happened to you. It’s a long story, like I said.” She smiles at her, a little sadly, and presses her palms flat against the floorboards as she sits down. Adora wonders vacantly if she can feel it, if her hands are passing through the wood right now, if she’s solid or just a... a ghost.

If she’s really gone.

Thinking about it fills her with an even deeper sense of loss, somehow. She can’t shake the feeling that it’s her fault, even if she knows that’s not true. And it hurts.

For a moment, they sit facing each other under the shattered skylight, and it could almost be - a memory she can’t quite reach. It could almost be just them again, like she knows they were.

“Are you sure you’ll be able handle this now?”

She nods. Once.

Catra gives her a small, sad smile. Her eyes are transparent, filled with guilt and an emotion she can’t quite place.

The room starts to fill with a soft blue light. It creeps up through the floorboards, making the shadows stand upright and wheel towards the fractured ceiling, making Catra seem to glow from within. Adora has to force herself not to stare (then wonders why).

Smoke tendrils begin curling up through the floor beneath them, wrapping around their legs. She swallows her panic in time to see Catra lift her hands from the wood, leaving scorch marks in their wake, and glance encouragingly up at her. It’s... comforting. Familiar.

“Try to relax, okay?”

Adora nods again. “Okay,” she whispers. It’s all she can manage.

The smoke curls up around her torso and expands, filling the entire room with a blue haze. She narrows her eyes against the strengthening glow, closes them entirely - and opens them again when the door swings open and nearly flies off its hinges.

Before she can move, before she can do anything but cry out, Catra’s hands - Catra’s solid, real hands - clamp as gently as possible down on her shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not real,” she whispers. “They can’t hurt us again.”

“Again?”

She turns to meet Catra’s eyes, and for the first time since they saw each other, she looks... serious.

“Again.”

And two kids come running through the door.

Adora almost gasps again, because... because it’s her. Her and Catra, covered in mud and soaking wet and shivering, hair in disarray, eyes filled with sheer terror.

As soon as Catra skids in, past Adora slams the door shut, hinges screaming in protest. She watches it happen as though underwater. It feels... it feels familiar. That fear in their eyes - it’s real, and she remembers it. Except she doesn’t.

“Are you okay?”

Past Catra nods, clutching her wrist to her chest. “I’m fine. Are they gone?”

“I don’t think so.” Past Adora jogs over to her and helps her to her feet, smiling faintly. Despite everything, despite the wound at her temple and the blood caked on the hem of her shirt, despite the rain and the terror in her eyes, she’s smiling.

And Adora... remembers.

She remembers everything at once, a hail of flashing images and thoughts and words and feelings. She remembers emotions she didn’t even know she had experienced - burning, horrific grief, loss, missing her so badly she wants to scream at the sky and quite literally burst into flame, choking on sobs in bed - sheer, unending terror, pushed deep down into the centre of her chest, the need to protect, protect her, keep her safe, because she can’t be scared if Catra is - 

Someone is calling her name.

Someone is... Catra is calling for her, holding her against her chest as she trembles, whispering her name over and over again in her ear. 

“Adora, Adora - “

And Past Catra... Past Catra is bent over on the wood, coughing and crying her name, letting out choking sobs, a hand pressed over the wound in the centre of her chest. The door has been blown open again, letting in the wind and the rain, and Past Adora is gone.

“I’m-” She sits up, which is much more of a struggle than it should be. “I’m here. What happened?”

Catra gives her a concerned look. “You- passed out, I think. I mean, I know I said you would, but I didn’t expect.... this.” 

Her voice has begun to distort again, fading into a soft, static hum. The vision, or whatever it was, has begun to flicker and die into nothing, the threads fraying and unravelling until all that’s left is the girl bleeding out in the middle of the room.

Adora detaches herself from Catra’s fading grip as carefully as possible. Because, fuck, the things she remembers-

“You didn’t see half of that, did you?”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t.”

Catra’s face falls slightly. Adora can’t even imagine what the experience was like for her, having to relive her death again for the sake of her memory. 

“But I did...” She clears her throat, rests a hand inches away from Catra’s. “I did remember. Everything.”

Her eyes light up from within, something that has nothing to do with the faded blue glow sinking back through the floorboards. “You did?”

Adora nods. The movement makes her head spin. She remembers... everything. Especially falling in love with the girl sitting opposite her, watching her with wide eyes. Especially the - the magic they tried to wield on her to make her forget, to make her immune to loving. And the way she tried to escape, to take Catra with her to keep her out of their reach, and it backfired in the worst way possible. She remembers her memories being stolen from her one by one, sucking the grief out of her until there was nothing left. 

Most importantly, she remembers waking up in her bed and feeling for the space where Catra should have been the day after they told her she was dead.

“I did,” she whispers. 

Silence stretches out between them, and Adora wonders if they could possibly be thinking about the same thing. 

Without saying anything, without thinking twice, she blurts, “I love you.” 

Catra’s eyes widen.

“We never said that. When you were alive. I always regretted that. I wanted to tell you, and I never got to, and I’m sorry for that. But, stars, Catra, I love you. I love you.”

She’s staring at her like she’s never seen her before, like she did the night - the night they kissed for the first time, the night she can remember with almost perfect clarity now, the night that was hidden from her for so long - 

“Adora -”

“I know it’s been - wow, it’s been years - and I know so much has changed, but I just - I have to tell you that. I have to -”

And Catra laughs. Softly. Her hand comes down and through Adora’s, leaving a wave of - of warmth in its wake, and settles against her palm, and it feels so close to getting to hold her again she swears she could cry again.

“I love you too, idiot.”

[omniscientoranges]

Get the Words Out

Dean tells Cas about John Winchester’s A+ Parenting, a boy, a crappy motel room, and the one thing he wants.

Trigger Warning - Homophobia (both internalized and said out loud)

1.9k words

[ao3]

(this is somewhat inspired by all the john’s journal posting that is like, sending me)

It's after. After all of it. After the empty, after the tearful hugs, after relieved hellos, after words still left unsaid, after the goodnights and I'll see you in the mornings. Just, after. It's only Dean and Cas sitting at the bunker's kitchen table now, and Cas gets up to walk to his room without a word (because he thinks he's been playing it off pretty well but really he's scared out of his mind to be alone with Dean, scared for the other shoe to drop). Dean gets up too, and Cas' heart flips when he realizes Dean is following him down the hallway. 

"Hey, hey, Cas, wait. Hold on a second," Dean asks, reaching out to pull on Cas' arm to get him to turn, but his hand stops short and only hovers. Somehow, that stings more than anything, the almost contact. Cas puts on a brave face and turns to Dean regardless. 

"Yes, what do you want, Dean?" 

Dean looks conflicted, then sighs and opens the door to his room (when did they get so far down the hallway?) and moves to sit down on the edge of his bed. 

"Cas could you uh, could you come here?" Dean pats the space on the bed next to him and gives Cas a tight smile. Cas looks wary, but he still trusts Dean with anything, everything, so he closes the door behind him and sits. 

"I gotta tell you something, okay? And it might, it might not be exactly what you're expecting to hear but it's-" Dean cuts himself off and looks down at his shoes. "I gotta say it first, before I can say anything else, alright? I just, I gotta tell you this first." 

Cas nods easily and fixes his eyes on Dean's face, "Alright, I'm listening." 

Dean nods once, short, and starts, "One time, um, dad dumped us- me and Sam- in Connecticut for a few months. I think Sammy was maybe, I dunno, twelve? And we stayed at this hotel with a heater that kept breaking down and a bad lock on the door." 

Cas nods again and gets a painfully soft look in his eyes that Dean can't look at, not quite yet. Cas wants to ask what does a crappy hotel room in Connecticut have to do with anything, Dean? But he sees the fraught expression Dean's wearing and decides that, whatever it is, Dean's got a damn good reason to make the connection. So, like he said he would, Cas listens. 

"Right and uh," Dean swallows hard, keeps his eyes trained on the floor, swallows again, and says, "There was this guy I knew that came around the room sometimes. He- you know I, I don't even remember his name." Dean huffs out a laugh over the lump in his throat to try and break the tension, but it just ends up making the tears he's been holding back for so, so long inch closer to the edge of his eyes. 

"But he had- he had this really cool car. I think it was a 71' Challenger. Bright red, fast as anything. But I'm kinda gettin' ahead of myself,'' Dean looks up from the floor and straight at the wall, but he isn't looking at the wall, not really. He's remembering a car, and a boy, and distantly, the worst night of his life. Gettin' ahead of myself again, where was I? Right. 

"Before that, when we got to school there the first day, I walked into whatever class I was stuck in at 8am and sat in the back because, ya know, we never hung around long so I didn't plan on learning much anyways. Didn't plan on making any friends either but, well," Dean actually smiles a bit at this. This part of the memory is fonder, afterall. "So I'm leaned back in my chair with my feet propped up on the desk getting the stink eye from the teacher already and this guy next to me he just, he just says hi to me, and he introduces himself and for some reason, I dunno I just- I just start talking to him. And he was nice and funny as hell so I decided 'yeah, yeah maybe I can have a friend. Just this once.'" Dean shakes his head, and Cas knows that's the head shake that means you idiot, what were you thinking, don't you know you don't ever get nice things? 

"So he started coming around the room, right? And usually we'd just sit and watch old westerns or whatever crap was on public access and bitch about school or life or something, but um, one night-" Dean stops looking anywhere, and closes his eyes before he continues. "One night, Sam was at the library I think, doing nerd stuff and, and the guy was over and we just- we were just sitting at the end of the bed watching tv. And then he-" Dean screws his eyes shut tighter and hot tears spill out of the corners, "He just- he just leans over and kisses me. And it takes me a second and then I just, I push him off of me and I say 'what the hell do you think you're doing, you know I'm not that kinda guy I don't swing that way,' just all the- all the usual crap. And we just look at each other for a second before he pulls me in and kisses me again and I-" Dean balls his fists in the rough fabric of his jeans and doesn't even try to stop crying, doesn't think he could stop crying at this point. He takes a sharp, deep breath in because he knows the next few words are going to knock all the air out of his lungs. 

"Cas, I- I kissed him back. I kissed him back because I wanted to, because I wanted to kiss him and I didn't care that he wasn't a girl, it didn't matter, I don't think it ever mattered. And then he starts to take off my shirt and then, well, you can probably uh, see where that leads. But- but the thing is that, it didn't lead there because-" Dean chokes down a harsh sob because he has to say it he has to get the words out because it feels like if he doesn't they'll rip through his chest like knives or like claws or like bullets. As it were, the next words weren't sharp or jagged, they were hollow and whispered, "He wasn't supposed to come back that night. He was supposed to be gone another week on a hunt he- he wasn't supposed to come back." 

Cas feels his blood run cold in a way it never quite had before, but it feels all too familiar just the same. 

Dean, eyes half open through the tears, keeps talking, "And he walked in and he was so, Cas, he was so mad you- I'd never seen him so mad before. And he wasn't, um, he wasn't scream and throw things and throw you mad, he was ice cold, dead silent mad. And the guy knew what was happening so he got his clothes and he left right away and when the door closed dad he- he just looked at me. And I'd never seen him look at me like that like he-" Dean finally lets a broken sob dig it's way out of his throat as he feels the tears from his face drip onto his forearms, "He looked so disgusted with me, like he was disgusted that I was his son. And he stared me dead in eye and said- he said 'boy, I ain't- I ain't gonna-" Dean brings his tear christened forearm up to his eyes to wipe away fresh tears, and he's almost too distraught to speak now, but he has to finish the sentence. Needs to, because he's never told anyone this, never wants to again, so he has to say it all now. 

"He looks at me and he says 'boy, I ain't gonna raise no queer son. You understand me?' and I said,'' Dean's posture straightens a bit, an echo from that moment, "'yes, sir, I understand' and he nodded at me and walked out of the room." Cas wants to reach out to comfort him, to fix something for him for once, but he knows this is a hurt that can't really be fixed. 

Dean takes a long breath out, "And then we left the next day. Never came back and, I never saw that guy again. But dad, he looked at me different after that, treated me different. Worse. He sent me on my first solo case a few months later but I- I think he just wanted to get rid of me. Like he couldn't bear to look at me, look at what I was. There weren't any more guys after that. Even after dad died I still couldn't- couldn't bring myself to do that, even though I still wanted to I just. I couldn't." 

Cas feels a tear roll down the side of his face, and he realizes he was so focused on hearing every word Dean was saying he didn't notice he had started crying too. He wipes his face with the back of his hand and says, "Dean, you know tha-" 

"I'm not finished yet, Cas. Please, just- just let me finish, okay?" 

"Okay. Okay, Dean." 

"What I'm trying to say is, I wanted there to be other guys, but I never wanted another guy more I wanted- more than I wanted you, Cas." Dean finally looks up to meet Cas' eye. 

"I wanted, want you more than I've ever wanted anything else, and I guess, hell, I guess you do too." Dean laughs a bit in disbelief, and reaches, timidly, for Cas' hand where it sits between them. Cas thinks, since when has Dean Winchester ever been timid about anything? That is, he thinks that up until the moment Dean's fingers wrap around his palm and then all he can think is Dean Dean Dean Dean Dean. Cas looks from their loosely intertwined hands up to Dean's face, back to their hands, back up to Dean's face, back to their hands again, then, finally, landing and staying on Dean's face. Dean's still crying, but he's also smiling and not for the first time Cas finds him so, so beautiful. Cas smiles too, and if he were in Dean's head he'd know that Dean finds him beautiful too, always has actually. 

"Dean, can I talk now?" Cas asks, half serious and half teasing. 

Dean teases back, "Depends, what do you wanna say?" 

Cas brings his free hand up to rest on Dean's cheek, "I want to say, that despite what your father might have believed, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. And, Dean, even if there was, well," Cas' smile widens and he leans closer to Dean, "I'll still love you, always." 

Dean looks relieved at that, like he'd been carrying a weight on his shoulders his whole life and only now did someone finally tell him it's okay, Atlas, you can put it down now.

"I love you too, Cas," Dean breathes, and leans forward to close a gap he hasn't closed since he was a teenager. Cas meets Dean in the middle and closes that same gap for the first time in his long, long life. 

When they finally pull apart it's only slightly, still resting their foreheads together. Cas pulls back a little further and tilts his head a bit to the side. Slowly, he moves his hand up to push off Dean's jacket. 

This time, it does lead there, later.

[raspberry-starship]

Start reading the series here.

Masterlist for this book is here.

Read by scrolling up the tag here.

• PART THREE: ELEGY •

Elegy (noun) ~

1. A song or poem expressing sorrow or lamentation especially for one who is dead 2. A pensive or reflective poem that is usually nostalgic or melancholy

The only solution that Sam could seem to come up with to keep them all safe was to get rid of Chuck. Dean, who spent a day wallowing in hopelessness was coaxed out of his state when Cas suddenly returned. Sadie, Sam, Ian, and Dean were all sitting around the war table eating in relative silence when the front hatch opened. Sam and Sadie had been doing most of the talking, with Dean only interjecting occasionally.

They all looked up at the balcony and had the expressions wiped off their faces when Cas appeared. Dean, staring up at the angel, dumbstruck, found nothing was in his arsenal to say.

“Cas!” Sadie greeted him finally, giving him a warm smile, “You got our messages?”

“Yes.” Cas nodded once, shifting a bit awkwardly in place.

“Well, we’re uh, glad to see you home, Cas.” Sam said as Cas descended the stairs and came to stand at the end of the table.

“Where the hell have you been?” A voice spoke up.

Cas slowly turned to look at Dean, a stoney expression on his face. “Out.”

“Out where?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Cas replied, turning away from him.

“Yeah, it kinda does—” Dean began when Sam held up a hand to silence him.

“Dean.” Sam said carefully, effectively quieting his brother.

“We’re glad you’re safe, Cas.” Sadie said earnestly.

“Yes,” Cas sighed, taking a seat at the table, “I hear you on the other hand are in a bit of a situation, though.”

Sadie turned to look at Sam immediately. He shrugged sheepishly, “I thought he might have some advice.”

Sadie turned to the angel, “You didn’t come back for me, did you, Cas?”

Cas shifted in his seat. “Partially. Mostly it was just… it was time.”

There was a beat of silence after that.

“Okay well,” Dean stood, “cool.”

With that he gathered up his plate and walked out of the room. Sam and Sadie watched with conflicted expressions while Ian quietly spoke up.

“It’s nice to see you, Castiel.” He said softly, looking a bit shy.

Cas’s face broke into a warm but weary smile. “It’s nice to see you, too, Ian. How are you doing?”

Sadie watched them closely as they began to talk, noticing how attentive Cas was to Ian. Since they’d ordered out, it was Ian’s turn to do dishes. Cas volunteered to help.

As they worked and talked, they were unaware of a pair of eyes trained on them. Sadie stood in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe with arms crossed. After a couple minutes, Sam appeared behind her.

A hand slid onto her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. She turned to see him there. He cocked his head and asked her softly what she was doing. With an unreadable expression on her face, she turned back to Cas and Ian.

“It’s just so sad.” She murmured.

Sam frowned, “What is?”

She shook her head slightly, “He just misses Jack so much. You can tell.”

Sam turned to look at Cas, too, watching for a moment. He was smiling softly at Ian’s jokes and asking him all sorts of questions. It was the most he’d seen Ian talk in weeks.

Sadie slowly guided Sam away from the kitchen so they were alone. “How are you doing, Sam?”

He frowned, glancing down at her as they walked through the halls, “With what?”

She looked up at him. “Without Jack.”

Sam glanced away, quiet for a long moment. “I don’t… I don’t like to think about it.”

Knowing that he was going through a lot, she decided not to push.

They split up after that, he going to the library while she had a different destination. The lights in 6D flickered on, revealing Sadie standing in the doorway, a heavy leather ledger in one arm. She set the folder down on the table, remembering the last and only other time she’d been here with a wince.

She was looking for anything that could help them, but this place was in horrible disarray as she found out quickly. When she began to look up objects in the ledger, she would go to where they were said to be only to find the shelf empty or another object that was clearly not the one she was looking for. She decided to switch her tactic.

She worked for a couple hours by herself, listening to music and going shelf-by-shelf to figure out what was where. After a little while she came to a shelf that was crowded by all sorts of magical trinkets—some labeled “do not touch with bare hands” and others loose without a protective case. And way in the back, she noticed a velvet box. She’d always loved those when she was a kid. When her mother would get a new piece of jewelry, she would always give Sadie the box to store other little treasures.

Her hand carefully extracted the black velvet box from its place. Under the light, she felt something seemingly sinister about the box. With a cautious frown, she cracked the case open. Nothing came flying out so she opened it all the way. There, laying on a bed of black satin, was a key. It was big and old-fashioned, made of dark metal with black gems on the handle. She cocked her head, noticing there was no bit to the key, leaving just a round post engraved with symbols she could not decipher.

Sadie? A voice spoke in her mind.

She jumped, almost dropping the key and case. With a sigh she replied, Yeah, E?

Dean and Sam have an idea, they want you to come upstairs.

She nodded and closed the box, setting it back down on the shelf before responding, Okay.

“Okay, so I was thinking,” Dean began as they all gathered around the war room table, “you remember the tablets, right?”

Sadie and Ian nodded, knowing that question was directed at them.

“The answer to all of our problems—maybe—is right under our noses.” He said as Sam appeared in the doorway, carrying a swede-wrapped parcel which he sent down on the table.

“The demon tablet?” Sadie asked.

“Mm.” Sam nodded.

“This was dictated by God himself.” Dean pointed to the demon tablet as Sam uncovered it. “There are instructions on how to seal angels and demons back into Heaven and Hell if they ever tried to take over Earth.”

“Okay…” Ian frowned.

“But if Chuck was so fuckin’ invincible, then why wouldn’t he able to protect us from the dick demons or even the dickier angels?” Dean asked, raising a finger, “’Cause, remember, these babies were dictated before he took a powder. So, he was worried about humans, if he couldn’t protect them.”

“Right.” Sadie said, following along.

“It’s almost like the tablets are for, if, for some reason, he were out of commission.” Dean said, watching realization dawn on both Eldredges’ faces.

“Which implies that there is something out there that can take him out of commission.” Sadie nodded slowly.

“Right.” Sam said, “He’s got an Achilles heel.”

Dean clicked his tongue and pointed a finger gun at his brother. “Correct.”

There was a moment of silence in which all of them considered the past couple days. Dean had been locked in his room with junk food and Scooby-Doo. Every time he’d come out of his room, he’d been in his pajamas and had grumbled something about life being meaningless. Today marked a radical shift in his behavior.

“So what is it?” Ian asked, “The weakness.”

“I don’t know.” Dean said, deflating a little.

Suddenly Sam groaned in pain, his hand shooting up to his shoulder. Sadie’s eyes widened and she rushed over to him as Dean did the same on his other side.

“Sam?” She asked, putting a hand on his upper arm.

“I’m—I’m fine—” He cut himself off with a loud cry of pain, hunching over the chair in front of him and wincing.

“Sam!” Sadie and Dean both cried.

Images flashed before Sam’s eyes. Unfamiliar people appeared and then he was in a white place without edges. He was seeing through someone else’s eyes as they sat on a Lay-Z-Boy and watched tv. It took Sam a moment to realize that he was on the tv—he was hugging Sadie in the war room. The image shifted and he saw a familiar face—Amara.

“What is it, brother?”

“I’ve been thinking,” The person Sam was seeing through spoke, “what if we left this place?”

Amara frowned, “Left this Earth?”

“Yeah!” The man said. “What’s keeping us here, anyways? This is my creation, why don’t we go and… make our own together?”

Amara considered this for a moment, “I think… I think I’d like that.”

“Great!” The man was ecstatic, “Now, we should just merge together—”

“—Merge?” Amara interrupted, “Why would we need to do that?”

“Well, uh, because it’ll be easier for us to work together that way.”

Amara considered it for a long moment then nodded, “Alright.”

The image shifted and Sam was seeing through Chuck’s eyes as he looked in the mirror. He had his shirt pulled to the side, revealing the bullet wound Sam had given him. He winced and poked at it, then jumped from the pain. He glanced down at it then back up to the reflection, only to find himself not alone in the mirror. Amara stood behind him, a stoically disapproving look on her face.

“What?” Chuck snapped flatly, not enthused to see her.

Amara stared at him for a long moment. “You’re not at full-strength. You’re hurt .”

“I’m fine.” Chuck pulled his shirt back up to cover the wound.

Sam opened his eyes to find himself on the ground, Sadie, Dean, and Ian above him. He blinked a couple times, a bit disoriented.

“Sam, what happened?” Sadie asked.

Sam shook his head slightly, almost in disbelief then sat up. “I’ve got it.”

“Got what?” Dean frowned.

“This!” Sam pointed to his bullet wound. “When I shot Chuck, it wasn’t a bullet, it was a—a piece of me, right? Maybe a piece of my soul?”

“Okay, and?” Dean shook his head slightly, not following along.

“I’ve been having these dreams,” Sam got up, both Sadie and Dean following him. Ian pulled out a chair and offered it to Sam, who thanked him softly, “they’re super vivid and they always end the same way.” He looked up at Dean, “One of us killing the other.”

Dean shifted in place, “And you’re just telling me this now?”

Sam shrugged, “I just thought it was some form of—of messed-up PTSD or something.”

“But you don’t anymore.” Ian crossed his arms.

Sam shook his head slightly, “I think they’re his memories.”

“Whose?” Sadie asked.

“Chuck’s.” Sam said, “He said there were an uncountable number of universes out there and that we’re his favorite Sam and Dean.”

“Right, and Lilith said that he wants one of us to kill the other.” Dean nodded, “Did you see anything else?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded, a clear excitement in his eye, “He’s weak.”

“What?” Dean’s arms uncrossed.

“The gunshot, it hurt him.” Sam said, “He’s not at full power.”

“And you saw that in the vision?” Sadie asked, to which he nodded. “So we need Donatello, don’t we?”

Dean nodded, “I got that covered.”

* * *

Ren sat on her cabin’s front porch, staring out at the woods, a little gray Prius sat in front of the cabin, relatively unused for weeks. In her hand, she turned a piece of sea glass over and over. It was a vibrant teal, with all its edges softened by the brine of the sea. The woods were quiet around her as she pondered the piece of glass and how she’d gotten it. Part of her wanted to throw it away into the woods because it reminded her of a time passed that she couldn’t get back, but she held onto it tight, just like how she held on to the memory of acquiring it.

She hadn’t been visited by Zophiel for a couple days now but it didn’t stop her from worrying about something stopping in. It was strange, but some part of her kind of wished they would show up. She was lonely and she couldn’t get herself to make a call to let Sam and Sadie know she was safe. The longer she waited, the more she ran the risk of them chasing after her instead of leaving her alone like she wanted. Or maybe it wasn’t what she wanted anymore. Maybe running away was the only thing she knew how to do.

A bird tweeted above her head, flying to its nest high up in the trees. She slouched a little down in her rocking chair, eyes feeling heavy. She shifted in her seat, trying to stay awake but soon sleep overtook her.

“We’ve got a case.” Sam looked up as Dean walked into the war room, holding a plate of re-heated pizza.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, settling in.

“Investment banker in New Haven.” Sam turned the computer towards his brother, “Found with the back of his skull caved-in and a lot of his brain missing.”

“You thinkin’ wraith?” Dean asked, skimming through the article.

“Yeah. Though, it’s a pretty intense kill for one of them.” Sam paused for a moment. “I’m thinking we should bring Ren and Jack.”

“Uh… sure. Why?” Dean frowned, speaking around a mouthful of pizza.

“Well, I figure we can stop by Ren’s aunt’s house, and let her get anything else she might need that she left there.” Sam shrugged one shoulder, “And besides, I think they’re going crazy cooped up in here.”

Dean made a face that said “fair enough”. “Has she been missing stuff?”

“Not sure.” Sam replied, “She mentioned a while ago that she had some stuff there but I’m guessing she’s a little less than enthused by the idea of going there again.”

Dean nodded, “Well, this time she’ll have backup.”

Sam smiled and nodded too. “Yes she will.”

Ren’s heart softened slightly at the sight of this. She wasn’t sure if it was real or not, but before she had the chance to think about it too much, the image shifted and they were all in the Impala. Ian had opted not to join due to the lack of leg-room in the Impala over a long period of time which would greatly disagree with him.

“Can I play some music?” Jack asked from the backseat.

“No.” Dean replied, shoving a tape into the cassette player. “Driver picks the music, kid.”

Sam smiled at his brother from the passenger side. “Oh, come on, Dean, let him have a turn.”

Dean rolled his eyes dramatically, “Alright, fine. After this tape.”

Ren snorted from the backseat, “I think you’re probably the only person who still listens to cassette tapes.”

Ren remembered this. She didn’t remember overhearing any of the conversation between the Winchesters about the case but she remembered this drive. Something was off, however; she was seeing from outside the car, like she was watching the memory play out, not through her eyes. She could see herself through the rain dotting the Impala’s window, smiling as Dean replied.

“It’s an old car!” He said before quickly patting the dashboard, “No offense, sweetheart.”

“It can’t hear you!” Ren teased, smiling like an idiot.

“That’s what you think.” Came Dean’s bitter reply.

“You’re a dweeb.” Ren rolled her eyes with a smile.

“Yeah, and you’re a nerd.” Dean poked back immediately, making Ren chuckle.

Ren smiled at the memory. Feeling her face move made her awake from whatever daze she’d been in, and she was back at the cabin, sitting alone. This had all taken place a couple months prior to Jack loosing his soul.

She sat there for a long moment just thinking about that trip. They’d stopped a couple times on the way to see views that Dean had found over the years, all of them getting a chance to stretch their legs. For a moment, she remembered a conversation she’d overheard on one of those stops.

“You ready to go?” Sam spoke to Dean.

“Shh.” Dean shook his head then nodded to where Ren was perched on a rock in front of them. “She’s still drawing. Give it a minute.”

“Alright, it’s just that you said we’re on a schedule…” Sam reminded his brother.

“Whatever. We’ll get there when we get there.” Dean replied, “Just let her draw.”

“Alright.”

Ren and Dean rarely ever got serious with each other. Most of their time together was spent in a predictable but comforting back-and-forth that she’d gotten used to. The only way they knew how to show their affection was through teasing. Sometimes, out of the blue, she’d call him a dweeb just to say something to him. He’d smile and reply with a tease of his own and they’d move on. Somewhere, she knew this was her way of saying that she cared; that she was thankful for him. She was pretty sure that he knew it, too.

She missed him, all of the sudden. She missed the man who’d given her her first beer, who’d always remembered to text on her birthday when she’d been at school, who’d saved her from that djinn all those years ago, and held her in the memory of her father’s hospital room. Missing him made her feel guilty. She wanted to take back some of the things she’d said. Well, what she wanted the most was for things to go back to the way they were. But she knew that wouldn’t happen.

She didn’t think much of the unusual dream until at lunch, she grew drowsy again. This time, she fell into a reverie and saw herself standing beside Dean in a morgue.

Ren could pass for older than her age much easier than Jack could, but they could not go alone—there would be too many questions. So, she and Dean went to the morgue, while Jack and Sam went to the office where the man was found dead.

“Mitchell Barons.” The M.E. said, hands pausing as they hovered over the sheet covering the body. He looked up at Ren and Dean. “It’s pretty gnarly, you sure you want to see it?”

Dean nodded once. “We’ve probably seen worse.”

The M.E. made a face. “I’d hate to have your job, then.”

With that, he pulled the sheet back, revealing a face-down corpse. The back of his skull was gone, leaving jagged edges of bone soaked in dried blood. Inside, there was practically nothing left—the only few scraps of brain tissue that had remained were in a small Tupperware the M.E. had to get out for them separately. Ren and Dean’s faces scrunched up at the sight, paling a little as they both took it in.

“Is this all that was left of the brain?” Dean asked, “I had heard that only part of it was missing.”

“Well, yeah,” The M.E. shrugged one shoulder, “part of it is missing. That part just happens to be a big part.”

Dean took a breath, trying to subdue his annoyance. Beside him, Ren wore a permanently disgusted wince, unable to look away from the hollowed out skull.

Ren was seeing the scene from all angles at once somehow, except through her own eyes. She wondered what that meant—what reliving this was for.

“Okay, well,” Dean settled, “we’ll need the autopsy report, and then we’ll, uh, get outta your hair.”

The M.E. nodded, clearly excited about being able to cover the body up again. Once he was done, he got them the file, handing it to Ren with a smile. She nodded awkwardly, forcing a smile in return. Behind her, Dean was almost glaring down his nose at the doctor.

“You’ll let us know if you come across any other strange corpses?” Ren asked carefully, her foot shuffling ever so slightly back away from the M.E. and her hands tucking the folder against her chest.

“Of course.” The doctor nodded, then stepped aside, letting them pass and go out into the hall.

When they were out the door, Ren and Dean shared a look of exasperation. With that, they faced forwards, he buttoning his jacket again, her stuffing her hands into her pockets, the file tucked under one arm.

“Well, that was weird.” She commented.

“Yeah.” Dean replied, holding a door for her.

“Have you ever seen a wraith do something like that to someone? I thought that they only ate part of the brain—the ‘good stuff’, as it were.” She grimaced at that, then looked up at him.

He nodded, “Yeah, no, this is a new one for me.”

He held out a hand for the file, which she quickly handed to him. He opened it, and flipped through a couple of the pages—taking charge of the “nerdy” stuff was in his job description for the moment, since Sam was otherwise occupied.

“What’re you looking for?” She asked, holding the front door to the morgue open for him.

“The, uh, adrenaline levels…?” He frowned, seeming unsure of what he was looking at.

He paused outside, and she leaned over his arm to peer at the file too. There were a lot of numbers and abbreviations and a whole lot of charts. He looked over at her, and she gave him a frown that said “I have no clue.” With a sigh, he shut the folder, and they went to the car.

Meanwhile, in downtown New Haven, Sam and Jack were immersed in the world of Jameson, Stacks & Healy, the investment firm where the body had been found.

“Hello.” Sam nodded to the receptionist, “Agents Bellamy and Jefferson,” He said as both he and Jack raised their badges, then continued as they lowered them, “we’re here about Mitchell Barons?”

The woman nodded tiredly, “Mr. Jameson is waiting for you in the conference room.” She seemed unbothered by all of this—maybe even a bit annoyed.

A man in a gray suit stood from where he’d been sitting at the end of the table when Jack and Sam walked in. He gave the two newcomers a big smile, while the man in the dark suit beside him didn’t react at all.

“Agents, hello. Bryce Jameson.” The man in the gray suit reached across the table to shake their hands. “Wow, they’re getting them pretty young, nowadays, aren’t they?” He commented as he shook Jack’s hand.

“He’s, uh, a trainee.” Sam said, forcing a tight smile.

“And I’m older than I look.” Jack added with a kinder smile, before they all took their seats.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it.” Jameson said, “This is my lawyer, Mr. Reed.”

Sam and Mr. Reed nodded to each other in greeting.

“So, uh, ask me anything you’d like to know.” Jameson smiled—it was clear to Sam that he was putting on the charm for them.

“Did Mr. Barons have any enemies that may have wanted to hurt him?” Jack asked immediately.

“Well,” Jameson gave a little laugh, “it’s a tough business, I mean, sometimes it even feels like the guy you work next to is an enemy, but none of these people would hurt Mitchell, I assure you.”

“Well, people can surprise you.” Sam said, sitting up slightly in his chair. “How about a list of people he was on bad terms with?”

Mr. Reed opened his leather dossier and pulled out a leaf of paper, sliding it across the table to Sam. It was a very short list.

“Mr. Reed assumed that you would ask about that, so I wrote up a list beforehand.” Jameson smiled, “Anything else?”

“Anything unusual happening around here?” Jack asked, cocking his head slightly.

“Like what?” Jameson chuckled, looking back and forth between Sam and Jack.

“Anything. New people around the office. Someone acting strange. Problems with the building.” Jack shrugged, listing things in a way that he hoped would be innocuous enough to avoid suspicion.

“No.” Jameson replied, still looking like he was amused by this line of questioning.

“Just think, please.” Sam interjected, his voice a bit more firm than Jack’s had been.

Jameson swallowed, and then glanced down at his folded hands on the table. He swallowed and cleared his throat, before sitting up slightly in his chair. “If you have more questions about inter-personal issues within the company, I will direct you to HR. Melanie, our head of department will give you what you need.”

“Within reason.” Mr. Reed added softly from beside his boss.

Jack glanced over at Sam, who was still eyeing the lawyer. With a nod, he straightened and stood, Jack following suit. “What floor is HR on?”

“Seven.” Jameson said, “I can have someone show you—”

“—That won’t be necessary.” Sam interrupted gently. “Thank you for your time.”

“We’ll be in touch with further questions.” Jack added, earning himself a little quirk of a brow from Sam.

With that, they left, Sam folding the printed list of enemies as they stepped into the hall. “Well, that was weird.”

“Hm.” Jack nodded, agreeing absently as he thought.

Sam tucked the piece of paper into his jacket pocket, and they stayed in relative silence until they reached the seventh floor. The receptionist there directed them towards Melanie’s office with a bit more gumption than the one upstairs. Sam and Jack came to a cream-colored door with a silver plaque that read: Melanie Mancini, Director of Human Resources.

Sam’s eyes grazed over the name and then suddenly snapped back, recognizing it. His eyes widened but before he could formulate any kind of plan, Jack knocked gently on the door and there was no pause before someone inside called: “Come in!”

Sam opened the door, holding it for Jack to walk in first. Sam’s eyes travelled from the wall-to-wall carpeting to the woman standing behind the desk, and then froze for a split-second. It was clearly her—Ren’s aunt.

Neither of the other people in the room took notice of Sam’s sudden pause. Jack held out his hand to shake Melanie’s, as she gave him a mild stink-eye.

“Special agent Jack Jefferson, ma’am.” He said, to which she nodded, giving an un-convinced “uh-huh” in reply.

Sam quickly got himself together, and went over to greet her too. “Special agent Sam Bellamy.”

“Melanie Mancini.” She addressed both of them, then indicated the two chairs in front of her desk. “Please, sit.”

Despite her clear suspicions about Jack, she was cooperative and made no comments about it. She was stiff, and cold, not making any more small talk than she needed to. They exchanged contact information, and she provided them with print outs of the complaints filed by and against Mr. Barons, as well as a copy of his personnel file and then promptly had them out of her office. Jack noticed immediately that there was something going on in Sam’s head as soon as they left.

“Sam?” He asked carefully.

“That was…” He paused, pushing the button to the elevator as he thought. He turned to face Jack again, putting his hands in his pockets. “…it’s a good thing that we sent them to the morgue.”

“Why?” Jack frowned.

“Because…” Sam swallowed, and the elevator dinged. “…that was Ren’s aunt.”

“What?” Jack asked incredulously, “How—how do you know?”

Sam shrugged, “I recognized her name and then from the photos I saw in Ren’s house.” He replied, “When she was still living with her, anyways.”

Ren awoke, lifting her head off the table where she’d nodded off beside her sandwich. She glanced around and frowned to herself, wondering what this was all about. Why was she seeing things from a bird’s eye view? Why did she see everything all at once and why did she see things that she’d never experienced?

[casmybelovedass]

The Destiel Folder: Season 6

[Season 4; Season 5] Man, this season... an emotional rollercoaster

Episode 3:

Cas admits he and Dean "share a more profound bond." (15:35) uuuhmm okay

"You think I came because you called?" (16:31) cut to "I always come when you call" later on in E21

"When a claim is laid on a living sould, it leaves a mark, a brand." ... like a handprint maybe? (22:33) Cas basically called dibs on Dean and admits it

Dean, I get it, Cas looks hot when he fights, but you don't have to look at him like this (24:42)

The amount of eye-fucking in this scene (25:56) almost 30 seconds (of Dean checking out Cas) of Old married coupleTM moments. Dean is worried about Cas dying again by the hands of an archangel. He just got attacked and wants to go out. But Cas has to go save the universe from a holy war. Basically a wife asking her soldier husband not to leave for the war.

[(26:28-26:30) Dean was totally looking at the BOOTY]

NOW FOR THE JUICY STUFF: Cas and Balthazar obviously had a history. More than brothers or war buddies. We could parallel them to Dean and Lisa: both old flames coming back after a long time and all.

Also, Balthazar can sense something is going on between Cas and Dean. It's so clear he can (35:26). ICWAW, we would assume Balthazar was an ex, getting jealous over Cas' new love interest

Episode 6:

"You asked me to be here, and I came", OH what about the whole 'I don't come because you call' thing? (13:40)

How domestic is this moment. Cas pouring Dean a drink, trying to comfort him (14:03). He hates seeing Dean like this, and hates even more the fact he can't do anything about it

Cas knows Dean is hurt enough already, and doesn't want to get him involved with a war that's not his to fight (14:20), but still wants to help

Episode 7:

Second time Cas starts stripping in front of Dean and he just stares (2:32)

Look, all I'm saying is... they really don't have to stand THAT CLOSE to each other (4:07)

Episode 9:

[Not a destiel moment but Dean struggling to say the words "gay guy" is too fucking funny to me (33:45)]

Episode 10:

Dean, will you not check out the angel in front of your brother, please? (11:54)

Dean is visibly uncomfortable at Cas watching porn practically NEXT to him, and having a BONER practically next to him. Understandable, but still... kinda gay (15:58) Look at Dean's face, my God (16:07)

[I'm screaming Dean looks like he's wondering what it'd be like to kiss Cas (25:29)]

"CAS?!" (26:23) the way Dean gets progressively more worried about Cas fading/being taken away and shit, kills me

[Cas is so fucking confused as to why Dean would suggest he'd let him have an hour alone with Meg (39:25), either that or he's embarrassed he might've actually wanted to. Meg and Castiel were cute together]

"If there's anything we can do-" "There isn't. I wish circumstances were different. *stares at Dean with puppy eyes* Much of the time, I'd rather be here." (39:46)

Also, Dean stares at Cas for 15 seconds, but averts his eyes when saying "We're your friends"? (40:01) Denial? Something's off. ICWAW, this would indicate tension, unspoken feelings

Just... the way Dean looks at Cas, and when he flies away (40:17) HIS EYES

Episode 11:

Balth jokingly calls Cas Sam's 'boyfriend', and Sam reacts normally, letting it fly over his head. When later in episode 17, Balth calls Cas "the angel in the dirty trench coat who's in love with you", Dean gets pissy. Just like later in 10x5. Touchy much? (13:48)

Balth admits he doesn't like Dean, and that "screwing him would delight me", but calls the one brother who threatened to crisp his wings, a "capable young man" (14:46). Jealous much? ICWAW we would read some sort of romantic rivalry between those two.

Episode 14:

This face... where have I seen this face before?

Oh yes, here

Dean looks at Lisa, the so called "love of his life", the same way he looks at Cas. Fuck my life

Episode 15:

"Cas" (Misha) starts stripping and Dean... stares... again (9:23)

"Well, Cas... now that you have your sword, try not to die by it." (39:53) Is it a saying? Or a reference to Dean being Michael's Sword? As in "He is gonna be the death of you"? And Balth looks at Cas THAT WAY?! (40:01) You can't tell me there was nothing between these two. Kill me now

Fucking stop being an old bitching married coupleTM already (40:25) you are hurting me

Episode 17:

Balth 'jokes' about Cas being in love with Dean (18:48) ICWAW we would read this as an ex being petty about the new love interest and teasing said love interest about it

Wow, jealous much, Dean? Again, ICWAW, this would totally be seen as jealousy for your crush's ex (27:30). And Dean, you're staring at Cas' lips again (27:37)

[Sam: "So, you killed 50,000 people for us?" Cas: *looks at Dean* "... No, I didn't... They were never born." (37:49) This is so stupid, but... sure, Cas... sure. That's what you ment.]

Cas makes a small speech about fighting for freedom, choosing your fate and all, while looking at Dean (38:55). OKAY SUBTEXT!!!

[As soon as Dean mentions boobs, Cas is gone (39:36) LOL]

Episode 19:

"It's not like Cas lives in my ass. The dude's busy. [...] Cas, get out of my ass!!!" "I was never in... your-" (4:28) and then they stare... Were you having unholy thoughts guys?

"Without your power you're basically just a baby in a trench coat" #MARRIED (10:38), "My friend is very sick." "I have a, uh... painful burning sensation." OH COME ON!!! (11:22)

"You know who whines? Babies. *pats Castiel*" (14:28) I'm sorry, pats him wHERE??!!

Dean saves Cas again (19:38)

The way Cas says "Dean, Dean!" (23:09)... I'm so fucking weak, and look at those EYES! (23:41) kill me now

"The kid... The little kid, he's one of them." "... Unbelievable." "Yeah, I know, Cas. You told me, all right?" (37:48) #MARRIED

Sam and Bobby immediately think Cas might be betraying them (39:31), while Dean won't even immagine the possibility. "This is Cas we're talking about!" (39:52)

Episode 20:

Even tho Dean can sense something is off with Cas, he won't bring himself to admit it. And the eye-car-sex. That. (4:44-4:53)

"You're distracted. [...] Is that all you're holding, huh? See... the stench of that Impala's all over your overcoat, angel." (6:20) this has such sexual undertones. ICWAW, it would be MENT as having sexual undertones. Also Crowley ships it

Dean protects Cas even tho clear evidence is there, and even feels bad about lying to him (12:06). And Cas feels oh so bad about Dean trying to be loyal to him, even when he was starting to suspect (13:18)

Dean still refuses to acknowledge the possibility of Cas' betrayal (19:56). His speech about Cas... I'm weak. "He broke ranks, gone to the mat, cut and bleeding for us, so many frigging times. This is Cas!" (20:10). ICWAW, this would be read as Dean having feelings for Cas, and as those feelings were getting in the way of his best judgment

Cas goes against the King of Hell to save the boys... but Dean first (21:48), and Dean defendes him against Bobby and Sam, apologizing for doubting about him. Cas hates having to break their trust

The look on Dean's face as he realizes Cas had been lying the whole time... BROKEN (23:35-23:49)

Cas doesn't want Dean to have to sacrifice more than he already had for him (25:19), and when Crowley shows up, Cas' first instinct is to look back at Dean protectively (25:30), and does that again before following Crowley (26:17)

Cas wants Dean to be happy, stay retired, even tho he was so longingly looking at him moments earlier (29:09)

"You gotta look at me, man. [...] Look me in the eye and tell me you're not working with Crowley." (32:38) the absolute desperation in both Dean and Cas, how HURT they look. THEIR EYES! Dean looks devastated

"I did it to protect you, I did it to protect all of you!" (33:09) one of the many "you, all of you" no-homo saves Cas pulls while talking to/about Dean

"I had no choice!" "No, you had a choice... You just made the wrong one." (34:21) how fucking hurt Dean looks. "Where were you when I needed to hear it?" THE EYES

"I was there... Where were you? *flashback to Cas looking back at Dean*" I'M DEAD

"It's not too late. Damn it, Cas. We can fix this!" "Run. You have to run, now. RUN!" (35:33) and they do, but Dean looks back at Cas, and the way they look at each other... STOP (35:47-35:52) ICWAW, this whole scene would seem like someone trying to save their loved one, and OH boy, that stare exchange would seem either a silent confession or a reminder of their feelings for the other

Cas visits Dean in the night, even tho they clearly don't trust him and don't want him there, and Dean leaves it be (38:06), and even apologizes for having to angel-proof the house against him

#MARRIED (38:28), "I'm doing this for you, Dean. I'm doing this because of you." (38:35) ICWAW... do I even need to point this out?

"Next to Sam, you and Bobby are the closest thing I have to family..." the look on Cas' face as Dean says this (39:15) "... that you are like a brother to me." did Cas' eyes just get more glossy? Poor baby. Also, ICWAW, by the way they interact, this statement would feel wrong on so many levels

"You're just a man. I'm an angel." ... why does it feel like Cas is telling that to himself more than to Dean? (39:43) "I'm sorry, Dean." (39:55) Kill me

Cas questions his decisions, asks God for guidance, the moment he understood he hurt Dean. He doesn't want to hurt Dean, but will do what he has to do to if it means he will be safe

Episode 21:

[Not a destiel moment, but "fragile masculinity" much, Dean? (4:20) "I was too busy having sex with women." (why do you feel the need to specify 'women'?)]

This Dean-Balth bickering has such current-former love interest fight vibes (8:52). Come on, ICWAW, this would totally be the case

Here's another Cas/Lisa parallel: how Dean acts here, looking for Ben and Lisa (13:11), and how he acts in S8 while looking for Castiel ("WHERE'S THE ANGEL!?")

Cas saves Dean again (21:46). "I didn't ask for your help." "Well, regardless. You're welcome." #MARRIED

They are both on the verge of tears... "I thought you said that we were like family." (22:22) They hate this situation. They hate not being like always, close, friendly, family

"Dean... I do everything that you ask... I always come when you call. And I am your friend." (22:39) the way he says 'Dean' and how his voice trembles. Dean is basically almost crying now (23:45)

"Dean, I said I'm sorry and I ment it." "Thank you... I wish this changed anything..." "I know.. So do I." (37:45)

[Alright. I do believe Dean really grew to love Lisa during that year they spent together, but I don't buy the "I always loved you, ever since that one hook up on that one weekend we knew each other for" shit. Dean wanted to give a try to the whole 'apple pie life' he'd promised Sam, with a good woman he knew Dean had feelings for.

If he grew to love Lisa over a couple of years after 1 hook up, I'm sure he could do the same thing for Cas after over a decade (he for sure would have already If Cas Were A Woman)]

Episode 22:

["You've always got little old me." "Yes... I'll always have you." (30:26) These two... Come on, they HAD to be ex lovers!]

"We were family once. I'd have died for you. I almost did a few times (Cas did actually, twice). So if that means anything to you... Please... I've lost Lisa, I've lost Ben, and now I've lost Sam... Don't make me lose you too." (39:55) ICWAW, this would be seen as a straight up CONFESSION

The hurtful look on Dean's face when Cas says "You're not my family, Dean.", and the terror when he thought for a second that Sam might have killed him (40:39)

["You will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord... or I shall destroy you." ... okay, Cas, honey, I get you are tired of waiting, but this is not the right way to get a confession out of Dean (41:20)]

[Season 7>>]

[icerats]

Warnings: Fear of death

Part One

100 G/T Prompts masterlist

Borrowers, Trauma, & Pasta: Chapter 2

(16. Trust)

Will watched as the two siblings stared at him with a mixture of fear in confusion. They didn't say anything, just eyed him warily. That was okay, it wasn't like he wasn't used to having one sided conversations. Being a social reject came in handy sometimes. 

"I thought you guys might be hungry." Will said, pointing at the noodle on the 'plate'. "Though I didn't know I had another guest here. I'll get a plate for you too. What was your name? El was it?"

"Don't call her that." The male one said, his eyes glaring through his black matted hair. 

"Ian! Do you want to piss him off?!" she hissed back at him.

The girl looked up at Will in fear, as if she was expecting some sort of negative reaction. Guilt tore at him for being her source of it.  

Will gave him a reassuring smile. "It's alright. What should I call you then?"

"None of your business!" The one called 'Ian' said before the girl could say a word. 

"Okay, fine mr. 'none of your business', do you guys want some pasta?"

Ian narrowed his eyes at him. "What game are you playing at?"

"Excuse me?" Will asked in confusion. 

"I know you giants aren't kind. Why are you giving us food? Did you poison it!?"

"God no!" Will snapped. Both borrowers flinched at his loud tone. "Sorry," he muttered, quieter now, "Listen, is it really that hard to believe that I don't want to harm you? I'm not a psychopath, okay? I'm not just going to harm some people for being smaller than me."

That didn't seem to convince Ian, but the blonde one seemed to be considering his. words.

"R-Really?" she asked in disbelief. "You a-aren't go-going to har-harm us?"

Her brother shot a glare in her direction. "Really El? Don't be naive. I know you are sick and haven't eaten in days so you must not be thinking clearly, but you can't trust him. Don't make the same mistake our parents did."

"Wait.. you haven't eaten in days!?" Will looked at the small girl with concern. She didn't look well at all. She was as scrawny as her brother and looked just as underweight and malnourished. Her unkept stringy hair clung to her forehead, which was slick with sweat. The young girl was unnaturally pale, except for her red nose and bloodshot eyes. Was she sick?

The young girl sneezed and looked up at him warily. "Y-Yeah."

Will pushed the 'plate' closer to the girl. "Please eat."

She looked at the noodle hungrily. 

"El," her brother warned. "Don't eat that."

She glanced back and forth between Ian and the noodle, seemingly unable to decide. 

"It's alright," Will tried to reassure her. "You can eat it."

"El, no! Don't even consider it!"

Will sighed in frustration. This wasn't going anywhere.

Both of the borrowers flinched. 

"Sorry." Will muttered, he had the feeling he would be saying that word a lot. "Is there any way I can prove it's not poisoned?"

Ian looked up at him, eyes filled with a mixture of fear and distrust. "No."

Will wanted to slam his head into the counter. This was getting nowhere. "What if I eat it? Then will you believe it's not poisoned?"

Ian scoffed. "Of course not! It's obvious that you put just enough poison in the food to hurt us but not you. It would take a lot more to harm you, wouldn't it!?"

This was it. The paranoia wafting from this dude had already taken too much of Will's sanity. "Okay fine. I give up. You don't have to eat it if you don't want too. Clearly I'm just scaring you. I'll leave. You guys can go, just please don't hurt yourself."

And with that Will left the room, calling Olivia on his way out.

~

Ian was dumbfounded. Never in his life did he expect a giant to just give up. When he flat out refused to eat that poisoned food, he expected the giant to yell and scream, maybe turn Ian into a red stain on the countertop. The last thing he was expecting was this.

No way did that giant just give up. He HAD to be planning something. Had to have some sort of ulterior motive. But what could it be? Wait.. didn't the giant call someone on the way out? Shit! He called someone on the way out! Pest control! The fucker called pest control to kill him!

"Ian, are you alright?" his sister started rambling to him, "Why aren't you saying anything? Are you mad at me? I'm sorry I talked to the giant, okay? I-I just didn't want you to get hu-"

"Elissa! We have to get out of here now!"

"Why? Because we were seen? He honestly didn't seem that bad-"

"El! Don't be stupid, that giant was trying to trick us and you fell for it! He just called pest control! We need to leave, NOW!"

Elisa's face turned white as a sheet. "P-Pest control?"

Ian grabbed her arm, "Come on, let's go!"

Elissa didn't. Instead she started violently coughing. "I-I ca-can't. It already took too much e-energy walk over here. J-Just go without m-me."

"No! I won't leave you! I'll carry you if I have too!"

Elissa frowned softly, looking seconds away from passing out. "We both know you are too weak to carry me. Just go, mom wouldn't want us both dead."

"No!" Ian summoned all the strength he had, and carried her. Even in his weakened state, she felt surprisingly light. Too light. They had to get food the second they got out of here. Ian glanced back at the door one more time, and then ran.

~

Olivia tapped her fingers on the table impatiently. Ian was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago.

"Is there anything I can get you?" The barista asked for the third time.

"No. Just waiting for a friend."

"Well if you're going to sit at a table, you'll need to order something." Olivia swore her tone just got colder. Impatient bitch, wasn't it a barista's job to be nice?

"Ugh fine, gimme a venti vanilla bean créme frappe."

"And what would you like to get for your friend?"

"I'm not paying for him."

Olivia swore she saw judgement flicker on her face. "And what is your name miss?" Nosy bitch, the hell is her problem? I'm not paying for a jackass who is late.

"Olivia. With an 'O'. "

"Thanks, it will be out in a few minutes. I hope your friend comes." Conceded bitch.

A few minutes later the barista came back, drink in hand and a smug smile on her face. "Where's your friend?"

"Not here." she grumbled, glancing down at the name written on her cup. "Alivea".

"Would you like your drink to go then?"

Olivia sighed, about to finally leave this stupid Starbucks, but then her phone rang.

About time Ian decided to actually give her a heads up on no-showing. "You better have a good fucking reason for ditching me ya know. You better not have ditched me for that guy you just met right? Please tell me you just gave him pasta and left."

"Livvvv, I couldn't just do that! I had to apologize! I think he was still pretty pissed I scared the shit out of him."

"What the fuck did you do to even scare him Ian!"

"Please stop sweari-" the barista said before Olivia flipped her the bird and walked to her car.

"Livv I didn't even do anything!" Ian insisted, "I just existed!"

"... Ian. How the hell did you even find this dude? You barely ever go outside."

"Ummmm promise not to freak out?"

Uh oh, there went all the alarm bells ringing in Olivia's head. "Sure.... now TELL ME."

"Well I uh kinda found him in my um-"

"Spit it out. I don't have all day."

"I uh found him like in my house."

"Some dude broke into your house!?!? Why the hell didn't you call the cops, and why the hell did you APOLOGIZE to the dude who fucking BROKE INTO YOUR HOUSE!!"

"Well technically I don't think he actually broke anything..."

"Ian, call the fucking cops. That lunatic could have murdered you in your sleep."

"If he wanted to do that, he would have done it by now. It's fine, he won't hurt me."

"... Wait... what the hell do you mean BY NOW? Has this dude been LIVING in your house?"

Ian paused, "I mean I think so? I mean it's not as bad as you think though, I don't think he had a choice!"

"If you're homeless you go to a homeless shelter, not break into people's houses and live in their closet!"

"I actually think they're living in the floorboards.... "

"THEY'RE!! What do you mean they're!! There is another psycho living in your house!?!

"Wait Liv, give me a chance to explain! It's not as bad as you think! They're harmless, and I think they just need help!"

"Give me one reason not to call the cops right fucking now!!"

"Promise to not call me crazy?"

"You're already crazy for letting two psychos live in your house."

Ian went radio silent for a couple seconds, then his voice returned in a whisper. "Well uh they're like uh kinda four inches tall?"

Olivia almost dropped her phone. No, it couldn't possibly be them, could it!?

The grip on her phone tightened. "What did they look like?"

"Um tiny siblings? Both really pale. The guy has black eyes and hair, and his sister has blue eyes and is blonde? Why? Do you actually belie-"

No, it was THEM.

Her phone smashed into a thousand tiny pieces on the concrete.

Part 3