#cas talks about the winchester gospel the way people on here talk about why their fav fanfic should be taught as classic lit in high school

[transsexualgriffith]

actually it's crazy to me how in the monster at the end of this book the very first act unforseen by chuck is cas helping dean. that he didn’t write, that he didn’t dream of. even when everything else complied. it literally changes course of the episode. the free will untangling the script.

[blorbosondeck]

fic rec masterlist

canon divergent/finale fix its

Anamnesis

THIS! FIC! this fic lives in my head rent FREE it is so good and it makes so much sense in the narrative that the shitty finale concocted, as to why they wouldn't mention cas or anyone else and its just. so good and they write chuck in the most villainous way that i love!!!

"Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be. Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19."

Sunset Sound: Stairway to Heaven by @adhdeancas

GOD FUCKING CHRIST this is so good and sweet and im such a sucker for team ups and reunions!!! its 3:30 am rn and i just finished it and i love it SO much it made me laugh a lot and the last few chapters i had the stupidest grin just plastered to my face

The Closer the Star, the Greater the Parallax by @rocksalts​

repressed bastard dean submits to the mortifying ordeal of being known and receives the rewards of being loved but only after some miscommunication i LOVE this i read it last night and it’s a fast favorite. my interests have overlapped and i am INTO it

“When Dean sits down to watch some bullcrap Discovery Channel episode with Cas, he doesn’t expect to actually learn anything. Except, with Cas explaining, he makes an effort to connect the dots.”

Don't We All Deserve To Be Happy?

VERY sweet and a VERY good pick me up. all around feel good fic!!! 

"Post-canon fix-it, divergent from 15x19 where Jack stays and Dean doesn't die and Cas comes back and everyone is happy. Take a shot every time I'm salty about the finale."

Keep Your Love Alive

okay. okay okay okay this may be my favorite finale fix it just because of how well reasoned it is. like this feels what should have happened i love it SO much

"Dean gets to spend eternity sharing beers with Bobby on the Roadhouse porch and riding around in his Baby with Sam. He’s at peace… or he feels like he should be. But a few things nag at him: Where is Cas, and everybody else Dean had been hoping to see in Heaven? Why does he feel like he’s stuck in a loop, reliving the same memories over and over again? And who are the strangers wearing Sam’s and Bobby’s faces?"

The GoldenRod Revisions by @aethylas​

this is one of the most well written things ive ever read. the script format DID make it feel more real and honestly? this is better writing than this show deserves. the finale that could have been ♥️

“A rewrite of Supernatural’s final two episodes, expanded into a five episode arc - in which Chuck needs to be defeated, Castiel deserves to be saved, and the characters in this story get a very different ending.“

Ascend by @wanderingcas​ 

THEE finale fix it fic!!! written by the AMAZINGLY skilled and talented @wanderingcas !!! it’s 50k of angst and hurt/comfort and pure bliss

“Something in the world is wrong.

Demon activity is rising where mysterious black substance oozes and unusual ecological events are shaking the world. Dean, grief hanging on his shoulders, restlessly searches for answers that might lead him to the Empty… and to Cas.

But what Chuck wrote can’t be undone. The narrative thread pulls Dean along, forcing him to comply. Because once a story already has an ending, it can’t be rewritten.

Or can it?”

Things Happen (They Do, And They Do, And They Do) by THEE @sobsicles

i KNOW everyone has already recommended this and likely you’ve all already read it. but it has to go here bc REPRESSIOOOOOOOOON i LOVE this so much it is one of the most perfect things i’ve read. are you bisexual? did you have a kind of weird relationship with your best friend and not realize that how you felt about them wasn’t necessarily how other people felt about them and you were maybe a little bit in love with them but were too repressed to realize it? you’ll feel seen. maybe a little too seen

Closer (isn't close enough)

are you a sweet and sappy yet horny bastard? do you like cas exploding light bulbs? you will like this.

“the one where they finally talk about what cas said before the empty took him”

You and Your Husband

it is exTRMELY sweet!!! repression dean strikes again <3

"Five times Dean corrects someone about his relationship with Cas, and one time he realizes he doesn't need to."

Tall Grass

miscommunication and a slowburn! despite being written in 2017 and finished in 2018, it feels like a fix it. ft. plant obsessed cas <3 

Invictus

a LOVELY and short (relatively) finale fix it

“They saved the world. They're free. It's done.

Except it's not, and carrying on is the last thing any of them are thinking about.

They still have someone they need to save.”

Unchained Link

post finale- it’s a great case fic and i am compelled i want more!!!

"It's after the end of things. Life continues on while Dean is "livin it up" in heaven. But it's never that simple, is it? A freak occurrence sends Dean into another time stranded back on Earth. And he thought his hunting days were over. But, no worries. His knight in shining armor comes to the rescue. Hijinks, therefore, ensue."

fun and time unspecified

Ladies and Gentlemen, This is Love Potion No. 5

very funny and sweet! miscommunication at its finest ♥️

"Cas gets drenched with a mystery potion from the ‘love spell’ shelf and... Dean has a sneaking suspicion, angel or no— the spell may have taken effect. And Cas might be in love with Sam."

The Way We Were

Y'all. It is so good its a great mix of funny and serious- extremely fun to see dean as like a base bisexual

"Dean and Castiel pose as a couple to gain access to a gated community known as 'The Glen', a pleasant if secretive location that the boys believe might be linked to several dead bodies showing up over the years bearing signs of ritualistic sacrifice. All seems well until Dean's memory is affected from an incident during a solo exploration, leaving Dean convinced that their cover story is true. Castiel is left trying to resolve their case without taking advantage of an increasingly enthusiastic Dean"

While You Were Sleeping

this is basically just the movie but replacing sandra bullock with cas. this is my comfort movie and imo, one of the most perfect rom coms. the fic isn’t finished but i still have the tab open on my phone and i will straight up go back and re read it when i need a pick me up. 

aus/rewrites

The Harvelle Gospels: Offscript

i know everyone ever ( @jewishcharliebradbury ) has recommended this fic. and for good reason go fucking read it

“The Apocalypse is averted, the angels are in Heaven, and Jo is free from the threat of possession. Somehow it couldn't be farther from a happy ending.“

absolute riots

An Ineffably Profound Bond

i honestly would have put this in the finale fix it section! look. i know. i know you've been burned by crossover fics before. but this is Thee good omens/spn fic you want. its funny as hell and immensely satisfying. im weak for everyone working together tropes and that is this

"After Chuck sets 'The End' in motion, the remaining members of TFW make a miraculous escape. Not willing to waste any time, Castiel comes up with a plan to travel to one of the other worlds to try and get help from the angels there, but after a fight with Dean, it's the hunter who gets sent into an alternate universe,with seemingly no hope of return.

When a mysterious human with a heavenly weapon shows up in Aziraphale's shop, he and Crowley learn that their world is not the only one. Now it is up to them to decide whether or not they want to join forces with the human and help him save his world or simply find a way to send him home."

Somebody Up There Likes Me by @lafilleredige

cas is hit with a spell that turns his vessel into a woman, hijinks and sexuality crises ensue etc etc sam is a supportive and bitchy little brother and its all SO fucking funny and also. horny as hell i love it i love it i LOVE it

“’Dean doesn’t want to talk about your breasts, it’s making him uncomfortable because he hasn’t acknowledged the complex fluidity of human sexuality.’“

Stray Cat Strut

a long crack fic that IS one of the funniest things i’ve ever read and i can’t explain why. it’s so ooc but its so funny that i don’t care. if you need a laugh you gotta read this

"Sam and Cas are immediately in love with the adorable kitty they find outside the bunker door, and occupy their time planning how to convince Dean--who they believe is off sulking after a botched hunt--to let them keep their cat. Along the way, Dean learns to use a litter box and hears some confessions he maybe wasn’t supposed to hear, all while realizing just how much he loves Castiel.

Now all Dean has to do is convince Cas and Sam their new pet cat is actually him before they do something crazy--like neuter him!"

canon compliant or slight canon divergence

Give

by @doublestuffedimpala post season 7 episode 7, kind of ambiguous ending but truly a cas is happy to bleed for the winchesters fic

Punch Like Bones 

short, post 5x04 homoerotic moment that i wish we’d gotten

[drivingsideways]

For @the-ever-present-julie, based off this tumblr post.

Five times Dean and Cas kissed and never talked about it, and the one time they did and still won’t talk about it. 

Five.

It's not like Dean hasn't thought about it before.

That first month after he crawled his way out of his grave? He'd never told Sam or Bobby, but that entire month, hell, more like three,  he'd been convinced that it was all just one of Alastair's tricks. That Alastair had moved on from the crude, visceral pleasure of blood and guts and shredded flesh to this—letting him dream, and then, right when he'd let himself believe it, that the impossible had happened, Alastair would take it away.

The sick fuck.

But two could play that game, alright?

Dean- Dean was good at this. Dean knew Alastair, like calling to like in the putrid depths of hell. Dean would find a way to trip him up, it was like that time with the djinn. Find the thing that didn't fit, the thing that was impossible to explain, and then tug at that thread until it all unraveled.

Well, he didn't have to look too far.

Castiel, angel of the Lord, who made his ears bleed, and his stomach swoop—well— come the fuck on, there was no possible way his mind could have generated this. This was Alastair, through and through, Alastair who had put him on the rack and taken more pieces out of him than he'd known existed, who'd worked him over and over and over, and somewhere along the way learnt enough about Dean that he'd—

The handprint buzzed and ached and tingled and Castiel's blue, blue eyes had looked right through him, and said things like you don't think you deserve to be saved, and if  I tell you something, will you keep it a secret, I'm not a hammer, and no, this would not be the thing he let himself believe, this would not be one more way that Alastair broke him. In the backseat of his car, Anna had fitted her palm onto the scar, her delicate, smooth palm too small for it, the whorls of her fingers caressing the edges, and it had been electric, and all wrong, because it wasn't her mark that Dean carried on his friggin' re-hymenated body (it wasn't her who had gripped him tight and raised him from perdition, and Dean's body knew it in a way that Dean wasn't going to think about, let alone—)

That sonuvabitch Alastair would not break him with a fairy tale that innocent people told their children, angels watch over you, but his mother had not been innocent in all of this, had she, she had sold Sammy to the Devil, and Castiel had laid a hand on his shoulder (but had not touched his mark, why hadn't—) and had looked at Dean with something like sorrow, and didn't seem to mind when Dean called him Cas, brought him down to his level, and fuck, here he was again, out of options, out of luck, out of fuel, and his brother was someone he didn't recognize.

The sickest thing was how that was the part  that had felt real, felt painful in a way that Alastair could have never devised. Dean's soul was putting himself in the hands of a demon bitch, and there was fuck all that Dean could do about it. This was how he broke then, in the words of a prayer, the first he'd ever said, and he hadn't  known whom he was praying to, but it had been Cas who showed up, eyes bluer than any summer sky Dean had ever seen, face striated by the colours of a vending machine, and said, faith is a good sign, Dean. What was it a sign of, Dean would have liked to know, and it wasn't faith, not by a long shot, but what could a creature like Castiel have known of desperation?  Castiel who stood close, too close, but had touched him only twice, who'd said, it's not blame that rests on you, it's fate, and yeah, that was fucking Winchester Gospel for you, cursed from the start, the two of them, before they were in the womb, born under a bad sign.

But Cas had helped, and Dean had begun to think—but of course, Cas left, and there was only poor, stupid Jimmy Novak, and then Cas was back, but not really, Cas was a stranger, and Dean didn't know when he'd stopped thinking of Cas as a stranger, and just, strange—

 Dean had laid one across Castiel's marble-face that didn't shatter, tried, because what else could he have done? This is real, this is the only thing that's worth it and even before the disappointment of having Cas leave could sink in, the handprint had buzzed and ached and tingled  as Cas pressed him against a wall and pressed a palm against his lips and then bled on the floor, for Dean, (whom he didn't serve) and Cas had said, I'll hold them all off, go save him, but of course it had been too late, because that was the story of Dean's life, too late, too late.

Cas comes back, and oh look, Cas has learnt what desperation means, after all. There's something wild in his eyes, that he tries to hide but doesn't succeed when he says, we need God, it's not theological, it's strategic, and if Dean had a moment to take a breath, he would have wanted to sit Cas down, and say, listen man, I understand it, but this is a road to nowhere, you're only going to waste your time, you gotta stop loving what can't love you back, and yeah, that'd have been hypocritical of him, but so what, that was pretty low down on Dean's laundry list of sins.

But it's the Apocalypse, and as it happens Dean's got his own shit to deal with, and Cas isn't his responsibility, so what if he just died for Dean or whatever, alright, Dean owes him, but not like that.

And now it's the end of the world, their last night on earth, and Dean's not too late to make Cas smile at him, confused but fond, and Castiel's smile is nothing like Jimmy Novak's. Cas is nothing like Jimmy Novak who'd just been a naive man in an ugly suit, and well. He'd promised Cas a good time, and Dean's not got a lot to give Cas, by way of thanks or comfort or anything, and what had Cas said that time? Everything on earth is pain, but that's only cause he doesn't know, the good parts, the best parts, and before Dean can chicken out of it, he's pressing Cas up against the Impala, and Cas is letting him, goes willing, pliant, staring at him, eyes wide, and Dean sees the moment it happens, the small hitch of breath he takes, that Cas, who doesn't need to breathe makes, and his eyes dart to Dean's lips and flash up again, and Dean's kissing him, and it's—riding a comet—

Cas doesn't know how to kiss.

But that's fine, that's a-ok, because Dean does, and Dean can show him, and Cas is a quick learner, zero to six hundred in twenty seconds or less, and now it's Dean who can't breathe except in loud, panting gasps, Cas's warm, strong hand wrapped with his around their dicks, not enough slick, a little too rough, too painful, perfect, perfect, and Cas is eating his face, teeth sharp and painful on Dean's lips, eyes still wide open and unblinking, the freak, but his gaze is hot and ferocious, and Dean's eyes flutter shut again on a moan, because Dean's burning, has been burning all this time, he realizes, for this, for—

Cas rips his sleeve off, jacket and shirt, both gone,  and then his hand is there, and Dean's coming, wet, thick and nasty all over an angel's hand, he should be going to hell for this, except Cas hadn't let him stay there, and hadn't thrown him back, and this was real, Dean shuddering, face hidden in the crook of Cas' neck, trembling, his knees giving way, but Cas' got him, the hand on his shoulder slipping lower, around his back to hold him up, holding him in place,  and Dean should— he should—

 Four.

He  wakes up alone in a motel room, and there is a tomorrow, and then the  day after, but no Cas, and then there is two thousand fucking fourteen, and Cas is still there in the ruins that Sam and Dean made of the world , jesus fucking christ on a candy stick, Cas is still there.

Cas is broken, because Dean did that to him, and Cas kisses him, once, open mouthed and filthy, and then draws back and says, the day I decide to stay, make sure I don't, please, if you ever cared even a little, promise me, and then Cas goes off to die with even-more-of-an-asshole-future-him, because that's just how he rolls.

 Three.

He shouldn't.

If that mook Zach's little thought experiment had taught him anything, it should have been this- that Cas was off limits.

That he shouldn't keeping finding ways to keep him close.

He shouldn't keep finding ways to kiss Cas, but that's exactly what he does.

The world's ending around them in slow motion and they are fucking.

They're fucking in dank, stinking alleys, blood running down Dean's chin, and Cas licking it up, and feeding it back to him, tongue practically molesting Dean's tonsils, fingers squeezing his neck, rubbing against each other fully clothed, until Dean's coming in his pants. They're fucking on stained  bedsheets of grimy hotel rooms, lights flickering, crackling, every electronic instrument in a five mile radius gone haywire, the smell of ozone and jizz making Dean dizzier, as Cas pounds him through four successive orgasms, each more spectacular and painful than the last, Dean's body a limp rag after. They're fucking squeezed together in the backseat of the Impala, Dean hunched over Cas, occasionally knocking his head on the roof, but he can't stop, won't stop, nothing has felt this good, a thick fat dick inside him, filling up his empty places, and  Cas slack-mouthed, and eyes closed under him, hands wrapped around Dean's biceps so tight that Dean's gotta wear long sleeves through the hottest summer in three centuries, so that Sammy won't ask.

Sam knows, of course he does.

Cas isn't subtle when he turns up, dishevelled, hair sticking out in five different directions, looking pissed off and tired; shrinking, somehow, but still with that crackling power about him, and not looking at anyone or anything except at Dean, like all the roads he's taken looking for God have only led him straight back to Dean. Sam's taken to clearing his throat awkwardly, and hot-footing it out of hearing range the moment Cas appears, and just as well, Dean doesn't have it in him anymore to be quiet, sprawled wide open on the bed, hands twisting in the sheets as  Cas fucks him fuck, fuck, fuck,  jesus fuck,  if he hadn't already gone to hell, surely this would send him there, profaning this holy thing of god, whose tongue was made for songs of praise and worship, and is instead all the way up Dean's ass, dragging an orgasm out of him.

It's alright, he reasons, on the days Cas is gone, and Sam is there, but gone.

Cas and him, they're not so different after all. They're both the disappointing sons of deadbeat dads, and Cas is losing his wings and his faith at approximately the same speed that Dean's losing everything and everyone, and the world is going to hell in a handbasket, and there's no way to fix it, no way to undo it, and he's going to have to kill the love of his life, and if this is his consolation prize, he's going to take it.

(Dean loves taking it.)

Dean will take it and he doesn't want to talk about it, and hey, apparently, neither does Cas, so that's peachy, that's perfect, and Dean shouldn't, but he does, and Cas lets him, and he does, right until Sam gets thrown into the pit, and Dean doesn't.

Cas' grace knits him together, once more, and then he's gone, and so is Dean.

 Two.

Cas comes back.

But he's more of a stranger than he'd ever been, even in that barn, what feels like a lifetime ago, and he won't talk, and sure as fuck won't listen, and his blue gaze when it meets Dean's is cool as lake water, as if Dean doesn't know what Cas sounds like, strung out of his mind with pleasure, from having Dean hold him down with a binding sigil and fuck him raw.

As if they'd never been friends, and perhaps they hadn't, that was just what it was like in the war, and the war was over, and so were they.

Cas is all impatience, and anger, and sullen resentment, brittle in a way that scares Dean if he really thinks about it, because it's Cas, and something's wrong, Dean can feel it deep in his bones, just like he knew with Sammy, but he—

Look, if Cas wants to reach him, he knows how to call.

But then it's too late (again) and there's a war (again, or it was never over, why is it never over), only this time it's Cas that Dean needs to kill, really kill, and fuck if he knows how, but in the end, all he can do is watch as Cas walks into the water, and all that's left of him is a stained, torn trenchcoat.

Dean keeps it.

He can't look at it, can't stand to, that entire year, but he keeps it.

And then Cas comes back (again), but then he's gone (again) and what had Dean expected, really?

And Dean's tired, ok, so tired, so tired and sick and done, and the war is still on—maybe he shouldn't have left Cas, maybe he should have tried harder, maybe he should have called, maybe it wouldn't have all gone to shit, if Dean hadn't screwed it up once again, hadn't failed—

 "Cas"  he says, squinting against the sun on his face, up at where Cas is perched on the roof of the Impala. "Why are you covered in bees?"

The air is filled with a humming that Dean's only 90% certain are the bees.

"They like me, Dean," says Cas, as though that were a reasonable explanation, and fuck knows, maybe it was, in that fucked up noodle of his. "They wanted me to stay with them."

Shit, fuck.

Dean rubs his hands over his eyes.

"You maybe want to come inside and talk?"

Crazy or not, they needed all the help they could—

Cas hops down from the car, and the bees rise up in an angry, buzzing cloud before settling back.

"Lose the bees first", says Dean, and then regrets it, when Cas stands before him naked as a new-born.

"Dude!" yelps Dean, "Come on! Where the fuck are your clothes?"

"I—", says Cas, sounding lost and forlorn as he stares down at himself. "I'm not sure. The bees didn't like them."

And fuck, like this, Dean can see that Cas is just skin and bone, pale skin stretched over prominent ribs, hip bones jutting out—

"Well, mojo them back from wherever you left them", Dean growls, "There's a sandwich in it for you."

Cas looks up, hopeful.

"Peanut butter?"

"Sure", says Dean and hopes to god the vending machine has  something that resembles a sandwich. "But get some.." he waves his hands, not looking at Cas, because it hurts to see him like this.

There's nothing like a sandwich in the machine, so he ends up instructing Cas to wait for him in the room while he makes a quick run to the nearest store. He picks up some orange juice and bananas while he's at it, along with the bread, peanut butter and jam.

"This is very kind of you, Dean" says Cas, as he sits (fully clothed, in his hospital scrubs and trenchcoat), his hands in his lap.

"So, what, you need to eat these days?" Dean queries. "You look like you've just spent six months on a fad diet".

Cas looks away, up at the ceiling.

"The grace is more useful for other things" he says, "There's so much to do. So many creatures in pain. I forget to."

"Listen", starts Dean, because he can guess where this is coming from, hell, it isn't like—

"Is my sandwich ready?"

Dean slides it across the table, and watches as Cas wolfs it down.

There's a bit of jam that gets stuck to the corner of his mouth, and Dean gestures at it, and then, when Cas looks confused, reaches out to—

Cas flinches.

Dean freezes, hand stuck awkwardly in mid-air, throat closing up.

He leans back, withdrawing his hand.

"You've got some jam smeared at the corner of your mouth, like a goddamned three year old, Cas".

"Oh", says Cas, and it vanishes.

Dean swallows the guess you don’t mind wasting your mojo on that then, that sits on his tongue, and Cas finishes his sandwich, suddenly quiet, staring down at his sandwich,  though it wasn't like he'd been saying anything before, but it's a different sort of quiet between them now, filled with all the things that Dean wants to scream at him, and can't.

Cas doesn't touch the bananas, but slurps the orange juice, loudly.

Dean watches as Cas licks his lips, tongue darting out to taste the last of it.

When he looks up, Cas is looking at him.

He feels his cheeks heat, caught out.

"You’re sweet", says Cas, suddenly. "Sweeter than all the honey in the world".

And before Dean can process it, he leans forward, brushing his lips against Dean's; a butterfly of a kiss, and then he's gone, in a quiet whoosh, and Dean's left alone, and when he wets his suddenly parched lips, he can taste the faint bitter-sour flavour of canned orange on them.

 One

Well, Dean's not making the same mistake twice.

There's no way he's gonna leave Cas behind.

Where's the angel, he asks, as he hacks his way through Purgatory, where's the angel?

Cas, he prays, c'mon man. Don't do this to me.

Cas, please.

Once he gets slashed by something, some kind of hellbreed that seemed half werewolf, half vampire, and it's pretty bad, but somehow he manages to lose them, holed up high up in cave he'd discovered in some time ago. The view's spectacular from the ridge or would be, if the hills and valleys and forests weren't teeming with things that were out for his blood, and Cas'.

He manages the staunch the bleeding. The gash isn't too deep after all, but he's gonna have to stay put for a couple of days. But then the chills start, and he thinks, shit, shit. Starting a fire is a sure way to get killed, no way he's gonna be able to take on anything more dangerous than a field mouse right now, and fuck, he's exhausted, suddenly, and ok, this wasn't good, the ground seemed to be rushing up to meet his face—

 He's warm.

Cocooned in the softest of embraces, safe, untouchable.

"Mom?" he whispers, "Is that you?"

A hand brushes over his forehead, light and gentle.

He struggles to open his eyes, which seem to be refusing to cooperate.

It's not mom.

"Cas" he rasps, bleary eyed, throat drier than a desert. "Cas?"

"Shh" says Cas, "You're safe now. Rest, Dean."

And it's true, Dean can feel it, cradled here in—Cas' wings, he thinks, sleepily, unable to hold on to the thought. Those are Cas' wings he can feel, sheltering, soft, warm.

"You found me", he mumbles, "I've been looking for you."

"Shhh", Cas rumbles, "Don't talk. It's alright."

"Cas."

A feather light press against his mouth, and then another, and then a third.

"I'm here", Cas whispers, "Dean. Rest now."

But when he wakes up, he's alone.

If it weren't for the healed gash, skin smooth and untouched, every aching muscle restored like he'd been checked into a fancy spa for a month, he'd have been certain he dreamt it.

Then they get topside, and he wishes it had only been a dream, and not one more thing he'd have to forget.

 (Plus One)

 Sam's here, finally.

Bobby had been right, time sure passed different around here.

Sam's here now, and it's perfect.

Almost.

Cas isn't around.

Or he's everywhere, but nowhere where Dean can see him, reach out and touch him.

When he asks around, he gets vague answers.

Ellen says, oh, I think Jack and Cas are in some other planetary system this week.

Two weeks later, by Dean's counting, Rufus says, you just missed him, boy, he was here helping fix my roof not half-hour ago.

Jack says, looking embarrassed, uh, I sent him on a mission, to, um, uh, Andromeda, and then, uh, I have to go, nice seeing you again, Dean, and vanishes before Dean can whup his ass for lying to his family.

Dean gets into the Impala; tells Sam he's got a supply run to make.

"You've got like a 100 cartons of beer, Dean",  says Sam.

"Not beer, Sammy."

Sam gives him a long look.

Dean shrugs, look, it wasn't like Sam didn't know.

Sam nods, once, lips quirking a little.

"Good luck, then" he says.

Dean flips a finger at him.

"C'mon, Baby" he says, as he pulls onto the road, "Take me to him."

 Baby's never let him down.

 Of course, Cas has gone and set his feathery ass down somewhere on the highest mountain that Dean has ever seen, the top of it half hidden in a swirl of clouds. There's only a narrow trail, no way to take Baby up, so he parks her under the shade of a leafy tree of some species he's pretty sure isn't found on earth, and shrugs off his jacket, wrapping it around his waist.

Jesus, but Cas could be a real dick, and it wasn't like Dean didn't already know that, but, wow.

 The trail is narrow, though not very steep, and the foliage dense for most parts, as he begins to climb. There's a river or a small waterfall somewhere, he can hear the sound of it, a muted roar. Up and up it goes, through plants and shrubs- or things that look like plants or shrubs, he can't be sure of anything here, he's realized. Occasionally, a small woodland creature of indeterminate origin will cross his path. Some of them stop and stare. One or two get experimentally close, while he stands as still as possible, and lets them acclimatize themselves to his scent. The foliage isn't dense enough to block out all sunlight, and every now and again the path will emerge onto an outcrop of rock and grass, probably intended as a rest-stop for the weary. Dean's only slightly out of breath, though the air gets cooler as he goes higher. But the sun is warm enough for a sheen of sweat to form, making his t shirt stick to his spine.

He sinks down onto a convenient grassy knoll and takes a few breaths. Clouds float lazily over the valley below, that stretches out farther than his eye can see. The river he's hearing winds through it, clear and blue, through acres and acres of green and violet, and brown and red. He turns his face up toward the sky.

Was it possible to get sunburn in Heaven?

Well, he was going to find out.

He turns his head a little.

He's about half way up the mountain, he estimates.

Given the position of the sun, he's been climbing about three hours.

Making me work for it, huh, buddy? Dick move, Cas, gotta tell you that.

Something rustles in the grass near him: a tiny grass snake, slim and green.

Snakes in paradise, wow, wasn't that theologically wrong or something?

But it gives him a beady eyed look and slithers over his outstretched palm and then away, unbothered, leaving behind a fleeting sense of dry leather.

Dean sighs.

"Cas?" he says, softly. "You're waiting for me, right?"

He doesn't know what he'll do if Cas isn't.

The thought makes his heart triphammer in his chest, fear gripping it.

What if he was too late, again?

But he's got to believe that he's right about this.

That he's here because Cas is ready, finally, to let Dean find him.

In those years after Purgatory, they'd never managed, somehow to make it work.

Every time Cas left—every time Cas came back—it got harder, somehow, to say, don't go, please, I need you, forgive me, stay.

Dean- he'd just become angrier and meaner, falling deeper and deeper and this was a grave that even Cas couldn't pull him out of. And then, when he'd been ready-almost—that second time in Purgatory, it had seemed like Cas wasn't ready, though surely, he knew, why else had he stopped Dean—

But the joke was on Dean, because Cas hadn't known, and then it had been too late. Cas was slipping through his fingers one more time, beatific in his joy, as he threw himself into the pit for Dean, and Dean had known, had known, that it was the last time.

 When it was all over, he had waited.

Hope was a thing with feathers.

He had waited for Jack to bring Cas back to them, to Dean.

But Jack hadn't.

No way that Jack hadn't sprung Cas from the Empty, there was just no fucking way that would have happened, so that meant that Cas didn't want to see Dean.

And alright, maybe Dean deserved that, maybe that was his penance, and he would do it, gladly.

He wouldn't complain, and he'd go through the rest of his life with a piece of him missing, and it was what it was, there were things you couldn't undo, there were sorrows that had to be borne.

On the bad days, after a hunt that went wrong- there were, after all, still some of those—he'd lie  in bed, every tendon and muscle and bone aching, and when he closed his eyes, he'd try to will himself back there, to that cave in Purgatory, the safety and comfort of Cas' shelter, and the sweet press of his lips against Dean's.

Sweeter than all the honey in the world.

 He blinks awake.

Apparently he'd taken a nap, though given that the sun was still steadily beating down on his face—and yes, you could get sunburn in heaven, thanks for nothing Jack—it hadn't been too long.

It takes another two hours, and he's almost giving up hope, wondering whether he's going to end up just spending the night alone on this mountain after all, when he breaks through a particularly dense grove and finds himself in a middle of a garden.

The garden- in flagrant, dizzying bloom around a cobbled stone path that leads to a small wooden cabin nestled against the wall of the mountain- has an occupant.

Dean feels like his breath was punched out of him.

My true form is as tall as the Chrysler building, Cas had once said, the lying liar that he was, because he's probably twice as tall. He's all iridescent wings that span twenty feet either side, and a dozen wheels spinning in different directions and something that looks like blue flames trailing the edges of his wings, and Dean is—

Jesus.

Cas turns toward him at that, and Dean senses his-shock?- before the almost unbearable brightness dims slowly, coalescing into a familiar shape.

"Not quite", says Cas. "Hello, Dean."

Dean's feet seem locked to the ground, and Cas doesn't make a move toward him either.

"Hi", Dean breathes out, the air rushing out of his lungs with the word. "Cas."

Cas has switched out the trenchcoat and suit for comfortable looking pair of white linen pants and a loose short tunic of sky blue, that match his eyes, and there's what looks like a week's worth of stubble along his jaw.

"Heaven can't afford a razor?" is what Dean says next, like the idiot he is.

Cas' eyes crinkle. "I've been told it makes me more attractive".

What, who- no- fuck.

Dean's already up in Cas' space before he realizes it.

"Who told you that?" he rasps, and up close he can see the flecks of grey in the stubble, and at Cas' temples, and yes, it made him breathtakingly hot, but damned if Dean was going to— "They were lying, just so you know."

Cas is smiling at him.

"Dean," he says, softly.

Dean reaches out to run a finger against his jaw, going against the grain, ends up with his fingers resting lightly against Cas' cheek, just under his ear.

"You’re a dick" he says, softly, "you know that?"

Cas nods.

"I've been" starts Dean, and then finds he's out of words, takes a shuddery breath instead, furiously trying to blink away the wetness in his eyes.

Cas's hands cup his face, warm and sure, and he draws Dean's forehead down to his.

"I know", Cas says, softly. "But I would do it again if it meant I saved you. I would do it all again."

"I should have told you," whispers Dean, "I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough."

"Dean", says Cas, softly, "You've always been enough."

Above them the sky starts turning a fiery orange as the first of the suns starts to set.

Cas' wings- which he hasn't tucked away- take on a metallic shine, but they feel warm, and safe, just like Dean remembers.

Dean kisses him, softly, once, then again, then again.

"Sweeter than all the honey in the world", he whispers, glad that there's nobody to hear this but Cas.

"You don't even like honey", says Cas, after a moment. "You never let Sam put any in your tea."

Dean draws back.

"You don’t remember", he accuses, genuinely horrified.

Cas' brows draw together in a frown.

"What?"

"You kissed me! And said—well you said what you said! Back in the day when you were all crazy!"

"Which time?"

Dean groans, thumping his head onto Cas' shoulder.

Cas buries his nose in Dean's hair and tucks him closer in his embrace.

"I remember" he confesses, quietly, after a moment. "But I thought you'd want to forget it."

"Cas", Dean, sighing, as he turns to nuzzle the soft, tender skin beneath Cas' ear, placing a small kiss there, as he presses closer. "Let's never talk about this again, ok?"

[sylvanfreckles]

If You Love Me (FebuWhump 28)

Fandom: Supernatural Summary: Jack brings Dean some good news: Castiel has been resurrected and wants to return to earth. To do so he has to voluntarily give up his grace, through one thousand selfless acts that will eventually earn him a place in heaven. But selflessness isn’t easy...sometimes it’s downright selfish.

Prompt: “You Have to Let Me Go”

(It’s Destiel, it’s fluffy, it’s angsty, it’s everything I wish the finale had been. Canon divergent from before the boys head to the pie festival.)

(I don’t understand formatting on here too well, this is a little cleaner over on AO3)

* * *

This is gospel for the fallen ones

* * *

Dean's dreams were dark places lately. After losing so much...after Cas and Jack and the way the world just seemed to slip apart at the seams around them, there just wasn't much to smile about. So it was unusual that he fell asleep and found himself in a quiet meadow. It was just the kind of thing he used to dream about when Cas needed to dream-talk to him (he can't be gone he can't be gone).

It was...nice. The sun was warm on his face, reminding him that he hadn't really left the bunker in a while except to walk Miracle. Maybe...maybe this could be a message. There was still warmth and brightness in the world if he knew where to look for it. Maybe he should drag Sam to that pie festival in Akron, get some fresh air and a change of scenery.

“Hello.”

He spun around and was wrapping his arms around Jack before his mind really caught up what he was doing. Jack hugged him back, a little awkwardly (like Cas had...not Cas please, god, not Cas). “Damn, Kid, it's good to see you,” Dean huffed out, pulling away enough to get a good look at Jack's face. “Apotheosis looks good on you.”

At Jack's puzzled look Dean slapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, I can look stuff up, too.”

“Right. Um, anyway, this is a dream.”

“Yeah, I got that.” He wrapped one arm around Jack's shoulders. “So, any reason you're popping in here and not visiting us in the bunker? Not that it's not great to see you, but Sammy's missing you, too.”

“I had something important to ask you,” Jack explained. “Just you...I don't think Sam needs to know until you wake up.”

Dean's eyebrows shot up. “Well, I'm all ears.”

Jack's mouth opened for a second, like he was going to contradict Dean (“I was never in...your...” why won't it stop). “Castiel is back.”

For a second, Dean was sure this wasn't a dream. He must have died in his sleep and gone to heaven, or been taken by a Djinn in a hunt. Or...or this was hell. Or a nightmare. There was no way the real Jack was actually here saying this.

“It's true,” Jack continued. He'd slipped out from under Dean's arm and stood facing him. “There's just...a problem.”

A problem. Of course. That made more sense. “What, uh, what's up?” Dean asked. His voice was cracking but he ignored it, focusing all of his attention on Jack.

“I had to close heaven,” the young entity explained. “It was better this way...between the remodeling and the new fledglings, it would only endanger earth if angels were still allowed to pass back and forth unhindered.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” Dean held one hand up. “You...remodeled heaven?”

Jack nodded. “Everyone's together now. As it should be.”

Well, hell, that sounded a lot better than before. He hadn't really been looking forward to an eternity in his own private holo-deck anyway...a big, giant party sounded like a good deal. “So what's the problem?”

“Well...Cas wants to come back to you.”

Suddenly, the field around him was far too bright. Dean swallowed and looked away, fighting back the tears that prickled at the edges of his eyes. There it was...this was the nightmare again. Things like this didn't happen to Dean Winchester. He didn't get a happy ending.

“Dean,” Jack's hand on his arm pulled him back. “He can only return to earth if he gives up his grace.”

Oh. Dean swallowed and nodded. Of course. If Cas gave up his grace he'd be human again. That hadn't exactly gone well in the past. “So, what, you want me to tell him to stay up there?”

“It's not that simple.” With a sigh, Jack turned away from Dean and there was suddenly a park bench in the middle of the field. A simple, black iron thing that hadn't been there until Jack wanted it.

He sat down and awkwardly patted the bench for Dean to join him. “You see...if he stays in heaven he'll remain an angel. But if he returns to earth and loses his grace, he still wouldn't have a soul.”

Right. Angels weren't given souls. “So you're saying...”

“If he doesn't have a soul he'll go back to the Empty at the end of his life,” Jack explained.

Dean felt his heart sink. For one brief, shining moment he'd had the vision of growing old with Cas. Retiring together, maybe running the phones and lore the way Bobby used to, training up younger hunters to follow after them. But he couldn't ask for that, not at the cost of Cas's eternal peace.

“There's one thing, Dean,” the young entity interrupted before Dean fully lost it. “We don't have an Occultum, and he never had a soul to begin with, but there is a way for him to earn one.”

He met Jack's gaze, staring into the light blue eyes that still seemed so young. “How?”

“If Cas can perform one thousand selfless acts before he dies, he'll have earned an eternal rest in heaven. He'll lose his grace gradually, until he's nothing more than a mortal, but he would gain a soul in return. The question is...do you want him back under those conditions?”

He wanted Cas back under any condition. Angel or human, pissed-off demigod or nerd in a trench coat. Any version of Cas, any fraction of him...but this couldn't be about Dean. “What does he want?”

Jack's face relaxed in a smile and Dean could have sworn the kid winked at him. “I think you know.”

Dean felt his cheeks grow hot and cleared his throat, trying to cover his embarrassment. “Well, y'know, if this is what Cas wants.”

“Dean,” Jack's hand on his shoulder left a tingle like static electricity racing through his body. “What do you want.”

He had to look away. The shining earnestness in the kid's face, so much like Cas's. The horrible, bright, unbearable hope that was suddenly burrowing up in his chest. This couldn't—good things don't happen. Not like this.

But Jack was waiting for an answer, and Dean realized he couldn't edge his way around this question anymore.

“Yes,” the word rushed out in a sigh. “I wish I could...I never...and then he was gone and I couldn't...and I've give him my soul if that meant he could just come back. Just...even just for a second.”

Jack's face split in a beaming smile, revealing the gap in his teeth that made this almighty ruler of the universe look like a twelve-year-old kid. “Then let it be so.”

* * *

This is the beat of my heart

* * *

“Okay,” Dean shuffled the papers into a loose stack and tucked them under one arm. “So, me and Sammy'll go check out the woods, and Cas can head back to the hotel and do some more research, sound good?”

“Dean.”

“No arguments,” Dean held a finger up in front of Cas's face. “You've only been back for a few months. Still need to get your sea legs.”

A flicker of confusion crossed his...his Cas's face. Sam interrupted before another episode of 'The Dean and Castiel Show' started (as he called it). “We don't even know if there's anything out there,” he countered. “The hikers who disappeared were all traveling alone, we'll be fine if we stick together.”

Dean kicked at his brother to shut him up, but Sam knew it was coming and side-stepped it. “Still, I'd feel a lot better if someone stayed back to keep looking into this. Might find something we missed.”

“Then it would be best if Sam stays behind,” Cas suggested, with a nod toward the younger Winchester. “He's the most experienced with computer research.”

The way Cas said computer like it was a dirty word brought a smile to Dean's face. Even after all this time, his...his Cas didn't quite have a handle on technology.

But no. That was a terrible idea. “No, I need Sammy with me to help me track,” Dean replied.

“Dean.” Cas was shooting him his I used to be an angel-of-the-lord and I dragged your soul out of hell, I can handle this measly human task look. Except this wasn't doing the laundry or buying road trip snacks. This was a real, dangerous hunt.

“Why don't we all go together,” Sam broke in, apparently realizing that the other two were more than willing to stare at each other until someone broke down. “This thing has only attacked people who are alone anyway, we'll be safe as a group.”

Well, he clearly wasn't winning this one. Dean let out a long-suffering sigh and dug in his pocket for his car keys. “You're staying in the middle,” he warned, pointing at Cas.

* * *

But they haven't seen the best of us yet

* * *

“Morning, Sunshine,” Dean smirked over the rim of his coffee cup. As an almost-human, Cas had the most magnificent bedhead first thing in the morning. It reminded him a little of when they'd first met, when Cas had that crazy, windblown look like an angel who'd never heard of a comb. “How'd you sleep?”

Cas slid into the chair across from Dean and rested his elbow on the table to prop his chin in his hand. “I'm afraid sleeping is still an adjustment.”

“Yeah, well, you'll get used to it,” Dean said with a smile and shoved the coffeepot over. “And there's always caffeine.”

“Or I could sleep in your bed.”

Dean had been in the middle of swallowing when Cas made that statement, and he spluttered the coffee right back up into his mug and all over his hands. “Cas, that...I thought we were....” They were taking it slow. There were a crap-ton of issues to deal with, between Cas's less than fond memories of the last two times he'd been human and Dean's own dump truck load of shame. While Dean never had any doubt that Cas had meant everything he said before the Empty took him away, there was the very real issue that Cas hadn't expected to survive that confession.

Where did that leave them now?

In the midst of his panic Dean finally noticed the mischievous smile Cas was trying to hide behind his own coffee cup. “You little sneak!” Dean dipped his fingers into his cup and flicked lukewarm coffee at the other man.

Cas laughed and held a hand out to block the droplets of Dean's coffee. “My apologies,” he said, though he didn't sound the least bit sorry. “I didn't expect you to be up so early.”

“Had to get into town to grab the morning post,” Dean announced. He proudly slapped his hand on top of a stack of newspapers, pulling the topmost one off to unfold in front of Cas. “The society pages are a great place to find all kinds of charity events and stuff. Hey, did you know Lebanon has a soup kitchen once a month? They take donations all the time, then provide a hot meal and bags of groceries for people in need.”

“That's...wonderful, Dean,” Cas, face screwed up in confusion, craned his neck to see the print Dean was gesturing to.

“Wichita has a bunch of stuff coming up, too,” Dean added as he piled another paper on top of the first. “There's a fundraiser for an animal shelter—I know you don't really have money, but they're also asking for help running the phones and stuff. There's, like, three nursing homes, and I know they never get enough visitors. Oh,and they're always asking for help at the adult education center. You'd be great at that, most of those guys are just looking for some encouragement.”

“Dean,” Cas lunged across the table to rest his hand on top of Dean's, stopping him. “What are you talking about?”

“Selfless acts.” Really, it should have been obvious. “Jack said a thousand selfless acts, right? What's more selfless than charity?”

Cas smiled, affection softening his eyes. “I don't think it counts if I do it like this.”

Dean twisted his hand just enough to brush his thumb over Cas's. “You don't know that for sure.”

Sighing, Cas pulled his hand away and took one of the papers off of Dean's stack. “I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try.”

* * *

The fear of falling apart

* * *

They'd gotten maybe a dozen yards into the woods at the edge of town when they found fresh tracks. Then a dark shape darted across their path, and they were after it.

“Werewolf?” Dean called over his shoulder. He and Sam were desperately trying to keep Cas between them, to protect the former angel from harm, but they hadn't counted on Cas having better stamina than either of them.

“The tracks are too canine,” Sam replied. “Skinwalker?”

“It ran on all fours,” Cas added. “Look,” he added, crouching next to a track on the path. It was definitely a canine track, about as large as a man's hand.

Dean let out a whistle. “Big dog.”

“Some skinwalkers get that big,” Sam suggested. “Did you bring silver?”

Dean patted the stock of his rifle. “Always come prepared, Sammy. Cas?”

Cas held up his angel blade.

“Dude, come on,” Dean groaned. “I gave you a gun.”

“I left it behind. This is all I need,” Cas insisted. When Dean groaned again his face hardened and he set his jaw. “I haven't lost all of my grace yet, Dean. This is sufficient for me.”

“Yeah, well, we're setting you up with a nine millimeter and some practice targets when we get back,” Dean countered. “Come on, let's move.”

The prints were becoming more frequent now. Dean desperately wanted to send Cas back to the car, especially knowing he was only armed with his blade. But that meant either sending Cas back by himself (and this thing was taking out solitary hikers), separating the brothers so one of them could take Cas back (again...solitary hikers), or all heading back together (leaving this thing to keep picking off hikers). The only option at the moment was to keep Cas with them and just watch his back.

Dean held his fist up to halt the others and backed off the path toward the undergrowth. He could barely see the shadow of something ahead of them...something big and dark moving around in the bushes.

He peeked over his shoulder at Sammy and jerked his head toward the shadow. He braced the rifle to his chest with one hand, and with the other gestured for Sam to move to the other side of the path to get a different view of it.

Sam, who'd been furthest back, crouched low to hurry across the path to the faint shelter of the trees on the other side. He eased forward, shotgun braced against his hip, while Dean tracked his progress, ready to aim and fire if this thing charged at them.

There was a bellowing roar from the path ahead of them. Sam scrambled backward, firing his shotgun from the hip in the direction of the creature charging. Dean heard the thing yelp as Sam's shot hit, and he was rolling into the path, coming up to one knee, sighting down his rifle for the dark shape moving through the bushes.

It charged him, fast, and Dean was barely able to get a shot off before he was bowled off his feet. The bullet thudded into the creature's shoulder and it let out another shriek of pain before a massive, clawed paw was swiping at Dean's face and chest.

Then Cas was there, still preternaturally fast despite how mortal his blood was these days. He caught the beast's swipe on his angel blade and easily parried, his strength still so much greater than a normal human. Dean scooted away to bring the rifle around again, but the creature knocked Cas aside and took off down the path.

“Don't!” Dean started, but Cas was already taking off after it. Dean shoved himself to his feet to follow, Sam on his heels, and they burst through the shadowed depths of the forest path just in time to see Cas tackle the creature on an old suspension bridge.

“Oh my god...” Sam's voice sounded numb with horror, and Dean had to agree. Cas was fighting a thing that looked like a wolf, but only if a wolf was bear-sized.

And Cas was...winning. He scored a few harsh slashes up the creature's chest and carved a furrow across its face. The wolf-thing snarled and leaped for him, but Cas ducked under and caught the thing in the stomach with his shoulder, heaving it up and over the side of the bridge.

“Cas!” Dean pelted forward, slinging the rifle over his shoulder. Cas glanced over at him...just as a paw shifted into a large, meaty hand to seize him by the wrist and drag him over the side of the bridge.

Dean could vaguely hear himself yelling as he ran onto the bridge, ignoring the way it shook beneath him. He could just see Cas's fingers twisted in the rope that ran across the bottom of the bridge, and he slid onto his belly to stick his hand through and grab Cas around the wrist. “Hold on!”

The skinwalker still had a hold of him. It had fully shifted now, to a large, muscular man with a feral gleam in his eyes. He had both hands wrapped around Cas's wrist and was swinging back and forth under him, as though to use the former angel to get the momentum to swing back onto the bridge.

Cas met Dean's eyes, face set in a determined line. “Don't you dare,” Dean snarled. He dug his fingers in and squeezed as much of himself through the gap between the bridge's railings as he could. “Don't do this to me again.”

“Dean. You have to let me go.” Cas's voice was calm, too damn calm for this. “It's all right.”

“No,” Dean shook his head. “No, I—I need you.” I love you.

Cas smiled. “I know.”

Then he was pulling out of Dean's grasp and falling down, down, down to the river below.

* * *

Don't try and sleep through the end of the world

* * *

“Come on, man,” Dean coaxed. “This one's really good, I promise.”

Cas let out a tired sigh and twisted to stare at Dean. They were huddled up on the library couches, Cas with an ancient illuminated text open on his lap and Dean poking through Sam's laptop for some kind of extra-selfless deeds they could do. Maybe if it was good enough it would count for three or four.

“I appreciate the assistance, Dean, but I believe your plan is flawed.”

“Yeah, well, how do you know?”

In reply, Cas held his hand out. Just a few days ago they'd taken a simple salt-and-burn near Kansas City (after handing out water at the mini-marathon to support the children's hospital), and the ghost had been powerful enough to send a shard of glass straight through Cas's hand. Any normal human would have needed medical intervention and weeks of recovery, but the wound had slowly closed up until there wasn't even a scar left.

“Jack said I would lost a fraction of my power for every selfless act,” Cas explained gently. “I'm still very much an angel, Dean.”

Dean stared at Cas over the top of Sam's laptop, before gently closing it and setting it aside. He chewed his lip for a moment while he considered what to say. “A thousand is a lot, man. Maybe...maybe you just haven't noticed.”

“It's just going to take time,” Cas replied, resting his hand on top of Dean's. “We have plenty of that now.”

“So, what, you gonna hear a bell or something? When you're all done, I mean.”

Cas shook his head. “I'll know when I haven't heard the voices of my brothers and sisters in over a year.” Catching Dean's puzzled glance, he went on. “The last thing I'll lose is Angel Radio. Some of the other angels have agreed to contact me periodically, and when I can't hear their voices anymore is when we'll know I'm fully human.”

Dean stared down at their hands, watching Cas's thumb move back and forth over his knuckles. “I still think we should keep trying. I mean, all this charity stuff is pretty selfless anyway, right?”

To his surprise, Cas threw his head back and laughed. “Selfless deeds for a selfish reason? Is that what you're saying?”

Dean had to grin, too. “So we're selfishly being selfless?”

Cas's smile grew more affectionate. “How selfish of us.”

* * *

‘Cause I won't give up without a fight

* * *

“Sammy! Take that side!” Dean waved his brother back and stumbled the rest of the way across the bridge. The river wasn't too far down...the water was deep...the current wasn't too strong. Cas was still partially an angel. He could survive this...right?

“Cas!” Rifle bouncing along his back, Dean shoved his way through the undergrowth, trying to reach the river. The suspension bridge had only been twelve or fifteen feet in the air, mostly just a shortcut for people who didn't want to take the longer path down to the footbridge.

He ran along the riverbank, stumbling through the mud, eyes open for any sign of Cas or the skinwalker that had dragged him over. Sam had reached the riverbank on the other side and was moving parallel to Dean, calling Cas's name as he went.

The back of his mind was racing through scenarios. How cold would it get at night this time of year? What kind of wounds could Cas get from falling into the river? Could the skinwalker have survived, too?

“Dean!” Sam's voice broke through his thoughts.

“I see it!” Dean called back. There was something on the riverbank ahead...something big and dark. Slinging his rifle around into his hands, Dean slowly approached, ready to take a shot if it was the skinwalker.

It was big and hairy and naked. And not moving. Dean risked a glance across the river at Sam, who shook his head. No ideas. He slid forward carefully and nudged it with his foot. It didn't move. He pushed harder and the thing rolled over onto its back, sightless eyes staring up at the sky, a diamond-shaped hole in its chest.

Cas had gotten the skinwalker. Dean let out a sigh of mingled frustration and relief. At least they knew this thing wouldn't be hunting down any more hikers, but it didn't answer the question of how far their missing angel had gotten. Or what kind of shape he was in.

Sam was already moving down the river and Dean picked up his pace. If the skinwalker had been washed ashore here, maybe Cas wouldn't be too far away.

Dean saw him first. Around the next bend of the river the bank on his side smoothed out into a kind of beach area, where sand and silt had been washed down the river and collected in the curve. There was a figure sprawled on the gritty sand, half out of the water, still recognizable even in the second-hand hunter's threads they'd been giving him.

“Cas!” Dean ran through the mud, dropping his rifle when his shaking hands wouldn't loop the strap over his shoulder. He crouched down and grabbed the former angel under the arms and hauled him out of the water, then collapsed on the beach to cradle Cas's head and shoulders against his chest.

“Come on, Sunshine,” Dean murmured. He wiped at the mud smearing Cas's face, rested his hand against his neck to feel his pulse. “Please...”

Cas's pulse beat strong against his fingers, and Dean let out a sigh of relief and lowered his head until his forehead was pressed against Cas's. “You said you wouldn't leave again, man,” he whispered. “You promised.”

Cas stirred, his eyelids fluttered. Dean pulled back just enough to watch those bright blue eyes squint open. Dean let out a sigh of relief. “Never thought I'd be glad you're still mostly angel,” he muttered.

His...his Cas...managed a weak smile, his voice breaking in a whisper. “I must be too selfish.”

* * *

If you love me

* * *

And thus ends this year’s FebuWhump! I hope you all enjoyed, and I’ll be compiling the master list shortly.

(And if you have the song stuck in your head now, imagine how the last two months have been for me)

[percywinchester27]

About a boy (Part-8)

Word count: 4.7K

Warning: Suspense, feels, physical abuse, child-trafficking and bullying

Characters: Dean, Cas, Gabriel, Benny, Michael, OCs and… Sam?

Summary: Dean Winchester has a secret. A secret that could really land him in trouble. He never expected to connect with anyone when he walked into the ‘Blue Stone Orphanage for Boys,’ but even then, the walls he has put up are slowly coming down. Now, a series of strange events are threatening to expose him. When everything starts falling apart around him, will he still be able to save the one person that matters the most?

A/N: I’m sorry this part is so delayed. Life got to me in a not so nice way. I will try my best to be better from now on <3

All my love to @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​​​​​ and @deanssweetheart23​​​​​ for beta reading this story <3

About a boy masterlist

“Sometimes I think that some of these kids dye their hair,” Will muttered, kicking a stone out of the way. “There can’t possibly be that many brown haired boys.”

“You have brown hair,” Cas pointed out mildly, feeling sympathetic towards the boy.

“But my name isn’t Sam!” Will exhaled, attacking another stone. 

The two of them were walking back from school. Dean had waited back for some extra class, and on the way out Cas had bumped into Will, who had been in a dark, brooding mood. Only now did he know that it was because of an abundance of dark haired boys.

“I feel like I’m disappointing Dean,” Will admitted. “But I swear there isn’t another Sam on the floor, unless some kid is hiding his real name for whatever reason. The only other thing Dean gave me to go by, was that Sam has brown hair. But that is most boys.” His voice was full of despair. 

“You’re being harsh on yourself, Will,” Cas soothed, placing a hand on Will’s shoulder. “There isn’t much to go on here and Dean knows that. He isn’t going to be disappointed.”

“I had to do this one thing, and I’m wretched at it,” Will moaned, seemingly not having accepted a word of what Cas had said. 

He is used to always having a solution, Cas thought. Will attempted math Olympiads for fun. He was smart enough to fuse out the fire alarm system. He was the sort of boy who was used to getting solutions for his problems, answers for mysteries, and now that he couldn’t figure this one out, it was bothering him. But there was also one other thing. Will was probably used to being self sufficient. He had always made his own bed and clapped his own back. Now, there was Dean.

Cas realised, Will looked upto Dean. The way he hung on to Dean’s every word like it was a gospel. How he glowed when Dean lightly made fun of him, teased him or even called him a dumb-ass. Behind Will’s disappointment was his inherent desire for praise, and not any praise, but Dean’s praise.

Cas felt a deep pang in his stomach, a swell of empathy. He had seen so many kids yearn for attention, for a drop of love in this place where everyone was lonely together. Will was no different. He’d never had anyone to appreciate his intellect. Lots of parents would have sold their souls for a prodigal child like Will. But here he was looking for acceptance from a boy who was looking for something else, someone else.

With a heavy heart, he said, “We’ll keep looking, Will. We’ll find Sam.”

The boy looked up, hazel eyes round, the question in them clear as the day. Who is Sam? But he didn’t ask. Maybe something about Cas’s expression made it clear that he wouldn’t answer. It wasn’t his secret to tell anyway. Besides, he had no business dragging a kid into this. Especially a kid residing on the 4th floor. Cas shuddered.

Will cast another look, but didn’t talk for the rest of the way back.

*****************************

“Damn it!” Dean cursed as he stumbled over a rough patch of land. It had been three days since the fire alarm incidence and he could only barely manage to walk by himself. Of course today had to be the day when the calculus teacher extended the class. Ordinarily, Dean would have ditched in favor of having a steady support in Cas to walk back, but he paid attention in calculus. After all, he had promised to help Will out with it. So much for that crazy kid’s expedition to champion math! Which was why Dean took meticulous notes and for that, he had to wait back.

Apart from having to stumble all the way back, Dean didn’t really mind walking alone. Cas had been hovering over protectively over Dean at all times, worrying that if he was left alone, Michael’s goons might ambush him and finish what they started that night. As it turned out, Cas needn’t have worried at all. All his fears had been put to rest when the Principal had called Dean and Cas and asked about their bruises. Apparently, the nurse had made a formal request to the principal to look into the matter. Dean hadn’t given names, but the word got out and the said gang of goons started skirting him. It had still taken a quarter hours reassurance to get Cas to leave without him. 

Now his legs ached, his lungs screamed in protest. I’m experiencing old age at fifteen, Dean thought wryly as he pushed the gate of bell stone open. He heard the voices before the scene around the corner met his eyes.

A woman’s voice was echoing in the yard, high and poignant and authoritative. The familiarity and hope of just seeing someone he knew had Dean running despite the pain shooting up his foot. He wasn’t wrong. 

There she was standing tall and thin, with short brown hair, and the sheriffs uniform crisply cutting a formidable figure before him. Even though her back was to him, Dean knew it was her.

Jody.

He started rushing towards her, then abruptly stopped, the realisation hitting him like a block of ice. No one knew that he knew Jody. He couldn’t just barge in like that and blow his cover and their plan. The sight of her induced such homesickness, Dean staggered to the tree next to him, falling back against it for support. He felt like his legs might give out anytime. 

Even if he did meet her, what was he going to tell her? He’d made no progress when it came to the Stynes. Jody had put all her trust in him, risked arguments with authoritative people to get him in and he had nothing for her. He had no clue about where all the kids were disappearing off to. Shame and guilt flared up inside him and he lowered himself on the ground, disappearing completely from her line of vision.

He had disappointed her. 

“Officer,” someone cleared his throat. Dean recognised Andy. He sounded uncomfortable and scared. “It wasn’t really my fault, you see.”

“Not your fault?” Jody thundered. “Locking up kids like that on floors? And don’t you lie to me, I saw the grills myself.”

“They’re old, rusted and just there, doesn’t mean we use them,” Andy stuttered. He was much taller than Jody, but right now she seemed to tower over him.

“Do you take me for an idiot? I rolled one of those down, and for iron so rusted, it sure slid down smoothly.”

Despite the reeling shame, Dean wanted to whoop out loud. Jody was one of the smartest people he knew, and badass. Andy was in for it.

“We searched the whole place thoroughly, and those kids live in horrible conditions,” she said. “This place is a living hazard. You call it a boys home?” And what of the left wing?” she pressed, disgusted.

Dean dared to raise his head above the shrubbery just a little bit to peer into the opening. Jody was standing along with two other police officers, all of them in uniform. Andy was just a few feet away, visibly displaced, and Garth was hovering in the background, for apparently no other reason than to provide staff support to Andy. Garth seemed disinterested in the exchange and was fiddling with the dials on his walkman.

“The left wing is not in my jurisdiction. It’s always locked up. It doesn’t belong to the orphanage.” Andy’s voice was reedy.

Jody put her hands on her hips. “Really?” There was a dangerous edge to her tone. “And you don’t have the keys.”

“No,” Andy lied through his teeth. That asshole. 

If Dean had had any reservations about whether or not Andy knew what was up in this place, they were shattered right then and there. He was in this with the Stynes.

Jody turned to the police officer next to her. “Alright, Andrew, we’re breaking in.”

“Do you have a warrant to search the place?” Andy questioned. Dean swore under his breath. This man actually had the audacity to act superior. Dean tried to raise his head further to get a better view, to see the expression on Jody’s face. His foot slipped and fell back on the ground with a crash.

“Who’s there?” Andy said sharply.

“Shit!” 

“Get up,” Jody ordered, and Dean, after muttering a few more choice words, staggered to his feet and raised his hands. “It’s me.”

Andy’s face turned red, the suppressed anger making its appearance. “Winchester!” he bellowed, “What the f-... hell are you doing there?”

“I-I fell down,” he said hurriedly. “Was coming back from school.”

“From behind the bush?” It was Jody. “Higgs, what’s this boy doing here?”

Dean noted with detachment that he’d actually never known what Andy’s last name was. He avoided meeting Jody’s gaze.

“Look up!” Jody ordered, and Dean did so; slowly.

It was there for a split second, but Dean saw it in her brown eyes as they widened. A complex emotion; a mixture of relief, tenderness, pain… and then horror… anger.

“Higgs.” Jody’s voice was low, but it was so full of anger, loathing, that Dean backpedalled. “What the hell,” she said, seething, “happened to his face?”

Andy looked at Dean properly for the first time and paled. The angry red patches on his cheeks disappeared quickly. “I-I don’t know,” he said, running a hand across his face nervously. “You know how they get sometimes. Boys will be boys.”

But Jody was having none of Andy’s shit. She grabbed him by the collar and pulled his face to her level. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t drag your ass back to the station for allowing child abuse.” She looked dangerous, and Dean truly understood why everyone with ill-intent back home ran in the opposite direction when they saw her car. 

Dean knew she couldn’t actually haul Andy to the station. This wasn’t her area of jurisdiction. This was just part of her case. And even if she could get the local PD to do this, it threatened their whole operation. Sniffing police interference, the Stynes might completely move their base. Children would keep disappearing and Dean would lose his only chance of finding Sam.

Andy stammered a mumbled explanation as Jody pushed him roughly. Dean didn’t hear a word of what Andy was saying, for Jody had turned to look at him, and Dean braced himself for the disappointment in them. Not only had he failed her so far in the operation, he’d managed to get his ass kicked spectacularly, too. In fact, his bruises were better now, light purple to yellow in some parts and the swelling almost gone in others. 

When Dean looked up, Jody had squared her shoulders to face only him. Her eyes were blazing, though not with dismay or any hint of let down. There was only regret and pain there and so much worry that Dean felt he would drown in it. 

He was reeling. Suddenly he was standing in the front space of Bobby’s house, Jody looking down at him not with anger but worry when he’d first rigged a car. The day when he’d caught Bobby and her sitting on the porch steps and how hastily she had withdrawn her hand from Bobby’s when she’d seen Dean walk towards. He remembered the sun light squinting off the wooden table and how she had been nervously running her fingers along the edge of the table when Bobby told him they were seeing each other. Jody who was never nervous, only scary, had cared about what Dean, who wasn’t even Bobby’s son, had to say about their relationship. 

Dean remembered all the times she had driven by early so she could drop Dean off at school when Bobby was out of town. he had hated being driven around in the sheriff’s car. It was like announcing ‘don’t be friends with me, I know the sheriff.��� He’d barely ever spoken a word to her then. Suddenly there had been casseroles on holidays and real food on the table on Sunday mornings, instead of whatever mix Bobby put on the table in his hungover state.

All the sneaking around, whispers that were quieted too quickly so it wouldn’t make Dean awkward. The hope in her eyes when he sipped the coffee that she had made on mornings that she’d stayed over. She would almost always get it wrong by adding sugar, when Dean liked his black. Only now, after he had lived in this hell hole, did he realise the sort of luxury he’d had. He was no different from all the boys living in the orphanage. His parents were as dead and cold in their graves as the others’. But unlike them, he’d always had a room of his own, no worry where his next meal came from. He’d had gruff ‘good mornings’ from Bobby and shenanigans in his garage. And unexpectedly, softness from a woman who made her living by being firm.

Tears burned at the back of Dean’s throat and he blinked rapidly, still unable to take his eyes off of hers. Of course there would be no disappointment in those eyes… only care and… love. Jody’s eyes shone with unshed tears of her own, and he could see her desperately trying to get a grip. 

“I got punched at school,” Dean said through a thick throat. “It wasn’t anybody’s fault.” He fervently hoped that behind his words, she heard what he truly wanted to say. It wasn’t your fault, Jody. None of this is. Please don’t pull me out of here. For the both of us.

She had wanted this one win in that male dominated department where she was better by ten times than any idiot. And he wanted… no, he needed to find Sam. He stared intently back at her, willing her to understand. At long last, she nodded. A quick jerk of her chin.

“Alright,” she said hoarsely. Dean hoped that the others interpreted it as anger. “Get going then. Next time I hear of you breaking into fights, I’ll admit you to a juvie myself. You get that?”

Dean nodded.

“Off you go,” she ordered in what was supposed to be a stern voice. Then, she very deliberately raised her hand, as if to shoo him off, and pointed it to the side of the orphanage. Even though the main door was right in front. Something glinted off her finger as it caught the Sun, and Dean caught his breath. It was a thin gold band, plain but solid, resting on the second finger.

He had to bite his lips so as to not betray a reaction.

She widened her eyes. GO.

Dean turned on his heel and headed towards the side she had pointed towards, completely bypassing the main door. In the distance he could hear Jody ordering Andy and the others off towards the left wing, even if just for the heck of it. Leading them away, he realised, away from him.

He increased his pace and turned around the corner. Dean rarely visited this part of the ground. Mostly because there was an old barnhouse there that totally creeped him out. Once upon a time, when the orphanage hadn’t actually been an orphanage but a handsome, inhabited manor, the barhouse used to house actual animals- poultry, horses and pigs. Now it was just as dilapidated as the manor house if not more. The timber girders were sagging under the dead load of the disrupted roof. The planks that made up the walls had been eaten into by termites, and cobwebs adorned the facade extensively. Of course it gave Dean the creepers. Of course he’d never even been slightly tempted to go in. But as he inspected the barren building, he noticed, to his surprise, that the door was ajar.

Dean knew the barn-house was used as a storage for things so old that even the Orphanage didn’t want it inside, which was saying something. Dean and Cas often joked that the only use it would be would be if they used it as kindling and set it on fire. At least one night wouldn’t be so cold anymore. The trepidation he felt as he stepped inside the threshold now, was very real. 

Inside, everything was at least five times dustier than what he thought it would be. And so much darker. Silhouetted against the broken furniture and wardrobes was a man. He was wearing plaid underneath a thick flannel jacket and a baseball cap. Scruffy beard covered his face. A face with all too many frown lines, but laugh lines around his eyes. A face that was more familiar to Dean than any other.

Before he knew it, Dean was bounding forwards till his face was pressed against the soft cotton of the man’s shirt.

“Bobby!” Dean let out a strangled dry sob. 

It was too much. The weeks and weeks of living in this hell house, the constant fear for Sam, of not finding Sam, all came crashing down. Then there was that other feeling, one that almost made him feel ashamed. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d say it was a feeling of… belonging. But how could he belong to this place? He hated every brick of the orphanage. A place that caged children. His Sam... Cas and Will. Maybe the belonging wasn’t with the place… but with the people.

“Hush,” Bobby said gruffly, patting Dean’s shoulder. Dean noticed that his voice was thicker than usual. Bobby cleared his throat. “It’s alright, my boy.”

Dean didn’t want to let go of Bobby. Not just because he had missed Bobby terribly, but because he’d never actually ever hugged Bobby like this. He didn’t know what to expect when he pulled back. 

When he did, there was only fierceness in Bobby’s eyes. Fierceness and fear. Not unlike Dean’s own fear for his brother and friends. A disjointed part of his mind wondered if love and fear were always this connected. And how it had taken him a trip to this goddamn place to feel both of those emotions so viscerally.

Bobby was still looking down at him, his lashes were wet. Dean had to look away.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked.

Bobby shrugged. “I heard about the fire from Jody. I-I was worried.” he hesitated, then added. “I needed to know that you were fine. I know you’re… well, you’re scared of fire.”

Dean had never said it, but Bobby was there in the early days when Dean even flinched from the stove fire. 

That still didn’t answer the question.

“I mean, what’re you doing here?” Dean gestured to the out house.

Bobby cleared his throat once more. “Sneaked in. Had to see you. I had to beg with Jody so I could tag along. Her only condition- no one could see me.”

“Jody!” Dean suddenly remembered, then threw a finger towards Bobby. “You’re getting married?”

Bobby shuffled from one foot to another, almost looking nervous. “Yeah. I had that ring made for a while now, since before you left. And I meant to ask you before asking her… but she found it in the back pocket of my pants and well, the damn cat was out of the bag.”

Dean stared. 

Romantic proposal was one thing. He hadn’t really expected Bobby to put on fairy lights around the house and fill the front yard with rose petals, but the proposal could have been more than her accidentally stumbling upon the ring. Dean wanted to shake his head indulgently at Bobby’s complete and utter lack of romantic timing. Maybe Jody liked that sort of spontaneous thing. Who knew? 

There was something in Bobby’s words that stopped Dean from acting upon his amusement.

“You said you wanted to ask me?” Dean asked flatly.

Bobby looked even more nervous if that was possible. “It is your home, Dean. I wanted to ask you if it was alright with you.” He looked at Dean with a worried expression.

This time Dean really did shake his head. “Bobby, you crazy old man,” Dean laughed. “Of course I’m happy for you. Jody is a badass.”

Bobby’s eyes softened, and his shoulders relaxed. “She wanted you to know, too. Said it didn’t count as engagement if you weren’t in on it.”

The tears had just subsided, but Dean’s throat burned with them again. 

“Bobby,” he said, his voice rough. “You getting married to Jody would be the best damn thing to happen to our home.”

Bobby beamed. His whole face lit up, and for a second Dean could almost feel the homely warmth of Bobby’s kitchen in the cold, dusty barnhouse. Then Bobby’s smile slid.

“What’re you doing here, kid?” Bobby asked, his face screwing up in his classic frown. He always tried to look annoyed when he was feeling something, Dean remembered fondly. “Come home. The place feels just like an empty car dump without you annoying my gourd,” he said pointing to his head.

Dean wanted to smile at Bobby’s attempt to lighten the tone, though it didn’t take a keen eye to see the wetness of his lashes, hear the gruffness of his voice.

“Sam…” Dean started.

“Sam’s… Sam’s a ghost story, Dean!” Bobby almost gasped, as if he’d tried too hard to not say those words, but they had escaped him anyway. Dean’s heart seemed to crack just a bit. He could see that Bobby loved him. Like his own son. But for Bobby, Sam was still his friend’s son, who was lost. He had no connection to Sam whatsoever. 

All these years, through hot grizzly afternoons and through cold shivery winter nights, that blood bond was what had kept Dean awake, picturing horrors that might have been happening to his brother who was still out there somewhere. Who knew? Maybe waiting for his older brother. Dean had held on to it, steadfast, never giving up. But somewhere through the years, Bobby had.

Dean didn’t begrudge Bobby the non-attachment, but if only he understood that finding Sam was the purpose of life for Dean, especially now that there was a ray of hope, now that he was so close to discovering the truth.

Perhaps Bobby understood too well, because he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t have said that,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. I just worry about you.” His eyes roved over Dean’s face. “Look at all of his,” he gestured vaguely at the bruises. 

“It’s nothing, Bobby,”

“Exactly!” Bobby pointed out. “It could get so much worse.” But something about Dean’s look made Bobby’s shoulders slump. It was clear that Dean wasn’t going to give up on this.

With a resigned gesture of his arms, Bobby turned around and produced a wooden box from behind. The box wasn’t ornate but, the rosewood exterior had a pristine quality to it, as if the box had been in existence since a long, long time.

“Here.” Bobby’s voice was heavy, and his eyes had that look… the one that made him look older than he was. “Take it.”

“What is it?” Dean asked, running his fingers over the rough exterior of the dark wood. 

Bobby didn’t answer, and Dean clicked the lock on it. The lid opened easily enough. Inside was a collection of mismatched things. There was a small knife, a little charm bracelet, a figurine of a peaceful looking baby angel and among other things a bundle of photos. Images after images of his family… of faces that he was afraid he was beginning to forget. Photographs from his parents' wedding, in front of their lawn, from his childhood, dad hugging mom in front of a sleek black car.

“Your dad loved that thing,” Bobby murmured, but Dean barely paid attention. He was hungrily flipping through the bundle, his hands shaking. At the very end, there were pictures of a small baby, clicked in a series. Small chubby hands held out, rosy cheeks, light brown hair and a laugh that seemed to reach out of the picture itself. 

Dean didn’t know whether to simply keep looking at the picture- because at this point his eyes were simply devouring it- or shut the box, just so he could control his feelings, get a grip on his wildly failing heart.

“Where?” he stammered, shutting the box as the later instinct won. “Where did you find these?” Even to his own ears, Dean’s voice sounded strangled.

“I’ve always had them,” Bobby said, then gauging Dean’s outrage quickly added, “I wanted you to move on, Dean. When you first came to live with me, you didn’t talk for half a year. It was like living with a shadow. I didn’t want you to get lost in the past and never resurface from whatever goddamned dark depth you had fallen into. And then when you started talking, and it looked like you were finally going to get a childhood, I didn’t want you to lose yourself in a false hope.”

“So you never gave these to me?” Dean glared. He could feel the blood rising to his face, his fingers balling into fists.

Bobby squared his shoulders. “Damn right I never gave you those. And I won’t feel sorry for hoping that you’d give up on the crazy mission to find Sam. You were just a kid, Dean. You still are, and from what I knew, I truly believed Sam was lost.” His voice cracked.

Just like that Dean felt all the anger leave him, his body deflating. Suddenly he felt tired, bone weary. His legs gave out from under him and he collapsed onto a dusty trunk. What was the point of being mad? It was not like Bobby had kept his childhood from him. Dean still had his mother’s picture by the side of his bed. His dad’s first sawed off and baseball glove on the wall. He’d always had mementos to remember his parents by. The only things new were Sam’s pictures. And what was even the point in blaming Bobby. All he wanted was to help Dean. Besides, Bobby had left no stone unturned in his time to find Sam.

“Why are you giving this to me now?” Dean asked, head bent low, all energy simply draining out of him.

Bobby lowered himself to Dean’s level, hand back on his shoulders, “Because now it might actually help you.”

Dean couldn’t help himself. He flung his arms around Bobby once more. This was more hugging than maybe all of their time together, but Dean simply didn’t care. “I can’t wait to be back,” he admitted, his voice muffled against Bobby’s shoulder.

Bobby chuckled dryly. “Can’t wait to have you back either, kid.”

After a moment he let go, patting Dean’s back in quick succession. “You still remember about the pager, right?”

Dean nodded, now slightly awkward. “I’ll send out a flare if there is ever an emergency.” Secretly Dean knew he wasn’t going to do it until he found Sam because that would mean an immediate rescue and permanent goodbye to this place.

Bobby gave him one more hard look, then nodded and walked out of the barnhouse. Goodbyes weren’t really his thing.

Dean knew that they couldn’t have left together, too much risk, so he waited for a few minutes, then slipped out, too, the box clutched tightly in his hands. He felt both lighthearted and also awfully homesick at the same time. So lost was he in his own feelings that he never noticed the shadow move from the side of the barnhouse where it had been lodged for a while now, and come face to face with him.

Dean ran headfirst into the wall of black, then staggered backwards.

“Benny!” he said, surprised as he looked into the shadowed face.

Benny’s face looked impassive, his eyes however were narrowed. “That police woman looked like she wanted to smother you in hugs.Your old man looks pretty solid and caring and alive. Care to tell me who is this Sam you’re looking for, Winchester?”

******************************

A/N 2: Please do tell me what you thought of the chapter? I live for comments!

If you wanna be tagged, please send me an ask

About a Boy taglist:

@sdavid09​​​​ @deanssweetheart23​​​​ @blacktithe7​​​​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​​​​ @cosicas-cuquis​​​​ @chalicia​​​​  @anathewierdo​​​​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​​​​ @protectteamfreewill​​​​ @firefly124-writing​​​​ @spnbaby-67​​​​ @hoboal87​​​​ @rizlow1​​​​ @donnaintx​​​​ @starmission​​​​ @gh0stgurl​​​​ @tftumblin​​​​ @emily-a-c11​​​​ @ericaprice2008​​​​ @jotink78​​​​ @charliebradbury1104​​​​ @ohgodwhybloggg​​​​ @i-dont-get-cold​​​​  @bobbie3939​​​​  @samsexualdeancurious​​​​ @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba​​​​  @cookiechipdough​​​​ @wildfirewinchester​

[amirosebooks]

Dean’s Old Yeller Principle

“He made me so mad at first that I wanted to kill him. Then, later, when I had to kill him, it was like having to shoot some of my own folks. That’s how much I’d come to think of the big yeller dog.”

— Fred Gipson, Old Yeller, Chapter 1 (Published in 1942)

When I was twelve or thirteen my English teacher passed out copies of Old Yeller as assigned reading. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the book, the quote above from the opening chapter tells you most everything you need to know for the context of this meta post. And for those of us who are still emotionally scarred from the damned book, I’m sorry for dredging up those memories.

Now, before I go any further, a disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, this meta and interpretation of canon is my own. I’m not trying to “preach” to anyone about why Dean “is allowed” to be an asshole while he’s grieving or going through some shit. Or any other argument that consistently gets thrown back in the face of meta posts like this whenever Dean is being an emotional dick. You’re entitled to your interpretations, feelings and reactions, as am I. I’m merely offering this meta to 1) get it out of my mind 2) point and wave about the nods to this classic book that’s traumatized generations of American children 3) cheer Dean on for turning yet another teaching from the “older, wiser generation” John came from on its head.

Groovy? Okay, now we can move on.

I’m gonna throw the rest of this under the cut for length and to keep people who are sensitive to pets / animals dying in really sad ways from having their days ruined by talking more about the book unless they’re good with having that happen.

Now, as I said in my disclaimer bit, Old Yeller is largely considered classic literature here in the states. My memories of it are a weird mix of vague on the details and strong on the emotions it evoked. From what I remember, the main character was a young teenager when his family brought home Yeller. For whatever reason, our main character hated this dog. I don’t remember the details and they’re honestly not important to this meta. The hate he felt toward the dog is important. So is the fact that the hate slowly turned into love and devotion to the dog. Which made it even more gutting when, on a hunting trip (if I remember correctly) Yeller was bitten by a rabid animal and contracted rabies.

At the end of the novel, the Coates family are once again attacked by a wild animal, a wolf, and saved by Yeller’s bravery. Yeller is bit during the attack and becomes infected with rabies. Travis knows that despite his connection to Yeller and Yeller’s protection of his family, the dog must be killed before it becomes fully rabid and does any harm to him and his family. As the man of the house while his father is gone, Travis takes it upon himself to put Yeller out of his misery with his hunting rifle. Travis is heartbroken by what he has done, but knows that it was the right thing to do for his family. (From here.)

Sound familiar? Good. That’s what I thought too when we got the shot above in the graveyard in 14x20.

[Obviously, rabies, once there are symptoms like Yeller had, is incurrable, so putting him down was literally the only option. And we are talking here about Supernatural, which operates on soap opera rules so anything goes, but let’s just roll with the similarities for the sake of argument.]

I remember telling my husband while we were watching it “Dude, they’re really going to Old Yeller Jack, omg.” (I even made fanart of the moment.)

And then, something incredible happened.

Dean threw out the script yet again and set off season 15 with the dull thud of a gun being tossed into the grass.

Now, I hear you. “That’s great, Ami. Why should we care?”

Lemme tell you a thing, friend.

In order to tell you thing thing, I want to take a trip way back to season 4. Back when the brothers were still nose deep into John Winchester’s gospel of Monster = Evil = Kill The Thing.

(Screencaps are all from Home of the Nutty.)

4x21 - When the Levee Breaks

Sam: Stop bossing me around, Dean. Look. My whole life, you take the wheel, you call the shots, and I trust you because you are my brother. Now I’m asking you, for once, trust me.

Dean: No. You don’t know what you’re doing, Sam.

Sam: Yes, I do.

Dean: Then that’s worse.

Sam: Why? Look, I’m telling you-

Dean: Because it’s not something that you’re doing, it’s what you are! It means- Dean cuts himself off.

Sam: What? No. Say it. (Sam has tears in his eyes.)

Dean: It means you’re a monster. (Transcript from here.)

I remember the first time I watched the show and I got to this episode. That fucking line was such a gut punching moment. And it was such an effective and emotional moment that Ruby was able to extend it later to further manipulate Sam.

Now, the screencap I grabbed for this moment is of Dean in tears (well, that single man tear he’s known for) after labelling Sam a monster for a reason. I want to remind all of us of just how much it killed Dean to have to use that label for Sam. To have to try to rationalize that the boy he raised, his brother, the guy who has been there forever and has always been Dean’s charge to take care of is now the thing that Dean is going to have to put down because he falls under the label of monster.

You know what, let’s go back a little farther, to the first episode of season 2. To this moment:

Remember this look? The one we later learned was thanks to John telling Dean that Dean was going to need to put Sam down? That Sam was going to become a monster? Yeah, ouch.

I added the year Old Yeller was published (1942) to the quote at the top of this meta to help give some context about the time it was written and the world it was released into. I’d also like to make note that in 1957 (or about a year before Henry Winchester jumped forward in time to meet the brothers in season 8 and give them keys to the bunker and had to choose to abandon John when John was still a fairly young boy) Disney released a movie version of the book. It’s absolutely, if the movie exists in the SPN world, the kind of thing young John would have watched and taken some kind of black and white moral guidance from.

It’s the kind of book/movie that John would have probably (note, this is where we start diving into my own headcanons for a moment) made sure the boys were aware of when he started thinking about bringing them on hunts to keep them from freezing because the “person” on the other end of their shotgun is someone’s mom. I could see it being the kind of thing he’d use as a way to show them both that, yes, shit is hard but you have to do the right thing and sometimes that means killing the thing you love. At least, I could picture him thinking that way. (Also, this still makes me wonder about exactly how early John started suspecting there was something different about Sam, but that’s a whoooole other post.)

Moving on and forward to season 6.

6x20 - The Man Who Would Be King

Castiel: The angel-proofing Bobby put up on the house – he got a few things wrong.

Dean: Well, it’s too bad we got to angel-proof in the first place, isn’t it? Why are you here?

Castiel: I want you to understand.

Dean: Oh, believe me, I get it. Blah, blah, Raphael, right?

Castiel: I’m doing this for you, Dean. I’m doing this because of you.

Dean: Because of me. Yeah. You got to be kidding me.

Castiel: You’re the one who taught me that freedom and free will –

Dean: You’re a freakin’ child, you know that? Just because you can do what you want doesn’t mean that you get to do whatever you want!

Castiel: I know what I’m doing, Dean.

Dean: I’m not gonna logic you, okay? I’m saying don’t… Just ‘cause. I’m asking you not to. That’s it.

Castiel: I don’t understand.

Dean: Look, next to Sam, you and Bobby are the closest things I have to family – that you are like a brother to me. So, if I’m asking you not to do something… You got to trust me, man.

Castiel: Or what?

Dean: Or I’ll have to do what I have to do to stop you.

Castiel: You can’t, Dean. You’re just a man. I’m an angel.

Dean: I don’t know. I’ve taken some pretty big fish. (Transcript from here.)

This was after two seasons of Cas fighting by their side. Two seasons of Cas giving heaven the middle finger on behalf of the Winchesters. It was enough time for Dean’s first reaction in a time of confusion on a hunt was to call Cas for help. And it was enough time for Dean to go from assuming Cas was a demon summoned with “bad mojo” to drag him out of hell on behalf of Sam to genuinely starting to care about Cas.

Dean did threaten to take Cas out here if he persisted down the path he was on, but you can tell by the rest of the conversation and just how hard it was to convince Dean that Cas was lying to them that Dean was hoping talking would work and he wouldn’t be forced to put Cas down.

Unfortunately…

6x22 - The Man Who Knew Too Much

Castiel: You doubted me, fought against me, but I was right all along.

Dean: Okay, Cas, you were. We’re sorry. Now let’s just defuse you, okay?

Castiel: What do you mean?

Dean: You’re full of nuke. It’s not safe. So, before the eclipse ends, let’s get them souls back to where they belong.

Castiel: Oh no, they belong with me.

Dean: No, Cas, it’s it-it’s scrambling your brain.

Castiel: No, I’m not finished yet. Raphael had many followers, and I must punish them all severely.

Dean: Listen to me. Listen, I know there’s a lot of bad water under the bridge, but we were family once. I’d have died for you. I almost did a few times. 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. You don’t need this kind of juice anymore, Cas. Get rid of it before it kills us all.

Castiel: You’re just saying that because I won. Because you’re afraid. (Behind him, Sam picks up the angel killing sword.) You’re not my family, Dean. I have no family. (Sam stabs Castiel in the back with the angel killing sword. Sam groans. Nothing happens. Castiel pulls the sword out. There’s no blood on it. He puts it down.) I’m glad you made it, Sam. But the angel blade won’t work, because I’m not an angel anymore. I’m your new God. A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you. (Transcript from here.)

Again, Dean tried to argue with the overpowered angel, he tried bargaining, pleading, and appealing to Cas’s fondness for them, but it didn’t work. Sam was the one who was forced to try stabbing Cas and it… also didn’t work.

7x01 - Meet the New Boss

Sam: Dean, look, I know you think that Cas is gone –

Dean: It’s 'cause he is.

Sam: He’s not! He’s in there somewhere, Dean. I know it.

Dean: No, you don’t.

Sam: No, I don’t. But, look, I was pretty far gone sometimes myself, and never gave up on me.

Dean: Yeah, and it turns out that you’re about the Same open book as you’ve always been. Hallucinations? Really? I got to find out from Death?

Sam: What was I supposed to do?

Dean: How about not lie? How about tell me that you’ve got crazy crap climbing those walls?

Sam: Why? You can’t help. You got a lot of pretty severe crap swinging your way lately, and – and I thought –what? I thought why burst the one good bubble you had left? It’s under control.

Dean: What? What, exactly, is under control?

Sam: I know what’s real and what’s not.

Dean: Sam –

Sam: Dean, look, we can debate this once we deal with Cas.

Dean: Yeah, you know how I’m gonna deal? I’m gonna stuff my piehole, I’m gonna drink, and I’m gonna watch some Asian cartoon p**n and act like the world’s about to explode because it is. Hey. You got to be kidding me. “Massacre at the campaign office of an incumbent Senator by a trench-coated man.” There’s security footage. Well, I think reaching Cas is, uh… out of the cards. (Transcript from here. And hopefully my slight censoring the last paragraph keeps tumblr from blacklisting this post into the aether…)

Here’s a sad thought for you, how often do you think–while Cas was terrorizing the country as Godstiel and, later, after he walked into the lake and exploded into Leviathan goo–Dean thought about how he should have listened to Bobby and Sam and taken Cas out before he had the chance to swallow the Leviathans and become super powered? Probably a lot, I’d guess.

This moment, as much as I, personally, hate seasons 6 and 7, went pretty damn far to reinforce this Old Yeller principle in Dean’s moral code.

He had to sit back and watch, literally, while someone he cared about went out of their goddamn mind with power while killing and terrorizing people. He had to do that knowing that there was a moment when he could have done something to prevent it. He could have killed Cas when he had him locked up in the ring of holy fire and they were having one of their many breakup moments.

Dean felt like he could have stopped all of this, but he’d been weak and tried talking it out first instead. And you can’t convince me that he didn’t check the news and every drop of blood Godstiel brought about to the blood on his own hands because of that choice to give Cas a chance to see reason.

10x09 - The Things We Left Behind

CASTIEL: How are you, Dean?

DEAN: Fine. [Cas gives him a look.] I’m great!

CASTIEL: No, you’re not.

DEAN: Yeah, well, I lost the black eyes, so that’s a plus. But I still have this. [Dean reaches over and gently slaps the Mark on his arm.]

CASTIEL: Is the Mark of Cain still affecting you?

[Dean flashes back to his dream from earlier, of the blood covering him, the dead bodies lying around him.]

CASTIEL: Dean?

[Dean blinks hard, coming back to the present.]

DEAN: Cas, I need you to promise me something.

CASTIEL: Of course.

DEAN: If I do go dark side, you got to take me out.

CASTIEL: What do you mean?

DEAN: Knife me. Smite me. Throw me into the freakin’ sun, whatever. And don’t let Sam get in the way, because he’ll try. I can’t go down that road again, man. I can’t be that thing again.

(Transcript from here.)

I may hate seasons 6 and 7, but holy damn do I love season 10. I know it’s not a favorite among many people in the fandom, but it’s one of mine.

This moment, this burger date of sadness and pain, is a big favorite for me. Dean sees the writing on the wall. He’s been a Knight of Hell now. He’s been as darkside as he can get. He’s, likely, being reminded daily of his time in Hell in the last ten years of his stay there where he was torturing souls. And he’s begging Cas to keep him from returning to that place. He’s begging Cas to adopt the Old Yeller principle because he sees it as the only option left if the mark consumed him again. And that kills me.

Let’s take another jump forward to season 13, where Dabb & Co really started putting Dean’s Old Yeller principle into text in a heavy, purposeful way.

13x02 - The Rising Son

SAM Dean, wait a second. (Sighs) The kid came through for us today. Jack saved us.

DEAN No. No, whatever that was, that was a reflex. It was a sneeze. Maybe next time he sneezes, he kills us. Good night.

[DEAN hears a clacking sound coming from a distance. He follows the noise to JACK’s room.] JACK Ah!

[DEAN finds JACK trying to stab himself with a blade. The wounds immediately heal.]

DEAN Okay. What the hell?  (he gets in the room) Give me that. You—Don’t be an idiot. Look, A, this is not gonna do anything to you, okay? And B, you… What the hell?

JACK Exactly. What the hell am I? I can’t control… whatever this is. I will hurt someone.

DEAN You know, my brother thinks you can be saved.

JACK You don’t believe that.

DEAN No, I don’t.

JACK So… if you’re right?

DEAN If I’m right… and it comes to killing you… I’ll be the one to do it.

[DEAN leaves.]

(Transcript from here.)

Can I just bask in the glory of the grieving widow!Dean arc from the beginning of 13 for a moment? I’d also like to take a moment to 🙌 Jack for being a wonderful Team Free Will mirror (and mimic) from the word go.

Ahhh…

Okay, moving on.

I loved this bit in 13x02 so much. Partially because it’s such a heavy handed foreshadow to 14x20, but also because it shows so clearly how good Jack is at reading the emotions in the room. He’s, like, three days old at that point, but he’s already having an existential crisis about whether or not he’s evil. He already understands (yes, thanks to jackass grieving widow!Dean…) the whole Monster = Evil = Kill The Thing.

He also shows that he understands the Old Yeller principle. And, for better or worse, he and Dean reach an unspoken agreement here about it. (Again, this is my reading. Your mileage may vary.)

13x04 - The Big Empty

JACK I’m afraid.

MIA/KELLY Why? Why are you afraid?

JACK Sam thinks you were right, that—that I’m good. He wants me to believe it, and I wanna believe it, too. It’s just, I… I’ve hurt people. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. And I know I should feel bad, and I say I feel bad, but most of the time, I mostly… I don’t feel anything. And that’s why I think maybe… Maybe I’m a monster.

MIA/KELLY Jack. It doesn’t matter what you are. It matters what you do. And even monsters can do good in this world.

JACK You really believe that?

MIA/KELLY I have to. I have to.

[MIA hugs JACK again.]

(Trancript from here.)

Killing me would be kinder than subjecting me to these feelings so soon after being introduced to this fucking character. Omg. Poor Jack.

Now, yes, a huuuuge part of Jack’s opinion of monsters and the whole “What do we do with monsters children? That’s RIGHT, we kill them.” thing is because Dean is an asshole when he’s emotional and grieving and deep into survival mode.

But, that doesn’t change the fact that Jack is still worried about the fact that he doesn’t feel things the way that everyone else seems to. That he has powers no one, including him, can understand. And that he’s killed people without meaning to. He’s afraid of himself just like Dean was afraid of what he was capable of if the mark took him over again.

13x23 - Let The Good Times Roll

(Sam continues down the hallway while Dean turns to another hallway and approaches his bedroom door. He stops as if to listen to something and then continues down the hall, away from his bedroom door. He enters Jack’s room, where Jack is sleeping and talking in his sleep)

JACK Stop! No!

DEAN Jack? (Dean touches Jack’s shoulder to wake him) Hey. (Jack jumps up, anxious and disoriented. Dean holds out his hand towards Jack to calm him) Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy. You’re just having a bad dream.

JACK (breathing heavily) Sorry.

DEAN It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. I have 'em, too. All the time.

JACK You do?

DEAN Sure.

JACK You, um… What do you see?

DEAN Well, depends. Mostly…mostly people I couldn’t save.

JACK Me, too. Over there in the other world, I said I’d protect those people. But…I saw so many of them die. And…I tried to save them. I…I tried, but… I’m sorry. I wasn’t strong enough.

DEAN Jack… (Dean sits on the edge of Jack’s bed) it’s not about being strong. I mean… Look, I don’t know what you saw over there, and I don’t know what you went through. I know it was bad. But I also know that you came out the other side because you are strong. But even when we’re strong, man, things are gonna happen. We’re gonna make mistakes. Nobody’s perfect. Right? But we can get better. Every day, we can get better. So whatever you’re dealing with, you know, whatever…whatever comes at us, we’ll figure out a way to deal with it, together. You’re family, kid, and we look after our own.

(Transcript from here.)

It’s not about being strong. IT’S NOT ABOUT BEING STRONG.

This is where we veer away from Old Yeller a tiny bit because, again, in the book Yeller had rabies which they could do nothing about.

The moments I’ve highlighted in this post all come back to one motivation. The overpowered person/angel/asshole in question was trying to gain enough strength through supernatural (lol) means in order to have the power to destroy a (perceived) bigger threat than whatever the cost was to get that power.

Sam’s demon blood drinking was supposed to give him the power to destroy Lucifer and get revenge for Mary and John and their lost childhood. It went badly and earned Sam the label of monster and falling, at least temporarily, into the territory of the Old Yeller principle.

Cas started lying to the brothers and working with Crowley so they could gain the power to stop heaven from starting yet another apaocalypse. Cas wanted to keep the Winchesters (Dean) safe from being destroyed in a holy war after being forced to fight his brother to the death. Again, this did not go well and lead to Cas succumbing to the Leviathans’s power and dying front of Dean after losing the Winchester’s trust.

Dean took on the Mark of Cain to defeat Abaddon, the evil that made John grow up without a father. It left him torn between going on a, essentially, soulless killing spree or becoming a Knight of Hell… again.

Hell, even the way Jack came into the world was fraught with Sam lying to Dean about working with the BMoL to have the power and strength to defeat Lucifer/the nephilim. Not to mention the months of lying Cas did after he decided that Jack’s power and strength was the only way they could destroy Lucifer once and for all. Again, this ended with Cas dying in front of Dean and the BMoL trying to exterminate everyone including the American hunters.

That’s the lesson Dean is trying to instill (hypocritically, let’s be honest) to Jack here. Strength and power come at a terrible cost and if you can solve a problem without resorting to that level of fuckery that things will be better.

And, also, that if things do go bad, that Jack is family and “we look after our own.” To Dean, this is where the Old Yeller principle kicks in. It is, in a rather fucked up but well earned way, the best option he knows for making sure another one of his loved ones doesn’t fall under that monster label. That none of them end up with more blood on their hands or bringing about the end of the world, again, because of their soap opera problems.

13x23 - Let The Good Times Roll

JACK I’m sorry.

(Jack walks towards the exit and Castiel goes to follow him)

CASTIEL Jack!

(Dean grabs Castiel’s arm)

DEAN No, hey, just – just let him go.

(Jack is walking through the woods, banging a closed fist into his hand and punching his shoulder)

JACK You keep hurting people! You keep… (Jack flashes back to all the people he has hurt with his powers – Nate, Sam, Dean, the female police officer) hurting… (flash to the male sheriff) (yelling) Why do you keep hurting people?!

(Transcript from here.)

This lesson, the lesson of power and strength not being the best answer because of the cost it comes with is not an easy one to learn. Especially when you were born as a superpowered, emotional Winchester by adoption. Life is scary when that’s the hand you’ve been dealt and using the power you have is an appealing balm to combat that fear.

13x23 - Let The Good Times Roll

JACK (moving towards Lucifer, eyes glowing and hand outstretched)Tell me the truth!

(Lucifer’s eyes start to glow, his head tilts to the side and he starts speaking)

LUCIFER She saw me when I was scouting out the bunker. She saw me and she screamed, and then…so I crushed her skull with my bare hands. And it was warm and wet, and I liked it.

(Lucifer’s eyes return to normal and he looks confused)

JACK You’re not my father. You’re a monster.

LUCIFER (yelling) Come on, man! (Lucifer bellows so forcibly that Sam and Dean cover their ears, his eyes glowing red) Okay. I tried with you. I really tried with you.

JACK Everything you told me was a lie.

LUCIFER Because I told you what you wanted to hear, man. So what?! I killed the girl! Big deal! She’s a – she’s a human! She doesn’t matter!

JACK So am I!

LUCIFER Yeah? And that’s your problem. (pointing at Jack) You’re too much like your mother.

(Transcript from here.)

To me, this moment reads as Jack embracing that black and white Winchester thinking. He has yet (even now that’s he’s currently dead in season 15) to grasp the concept of people being morally gray. He sees himself as either embracing the monster side of himself from his bio dad or rejecting that side of himself to embrace Kelly’s human side. The side that can’t hurt people on accident. The side that makes him more like the Winchesters. Because he doesn’t want to fall under than monster label. He doesn’t want to fall under that Old Yeller principle. He doesn’t want to hurt so many people that he will have to die because neither he or anyone else can control him.

Yes, this moment is FAR more complicated than just that, but it’s definitely part of it.

14x10 - Nihilism

DEAN Sam said that one of your reapers really came through with the assist. I’m thinking that was probably you.

BILLIE Don’t tell anyone.

DEAN You broke the rules.

BILLIE I took a calculated risk. I warned you about the dangers of jumping from world to world. But you ignored me, didn’t you?

DEAN Rescuing Mom and Jack, helping out those other folks – I’d say it was worth it.

BILLIE And just look at you now. Do you remember visiting my reading room? The shelves and shelves of notebooks describing the ways you might die?

DEAN Yeah. Upbeat classics.

BILLIE Well, it’s the funniest thing, but they’ve all been rewritten. They all end the same way now – with the archangel Michael escaping your mind and using you as his vessel to burn down this world.

DEAN All of them?

BILLIE All of them. Except one.

(Billie hands Dean a book. He opens it and then looks at her, stunned)

DEAN What am I supposed to do with this?

BILLIE That’s up to you.

(Dean looks at the book again and when he looks up, Billie is gone. He looks back at the book and then looks around, a mixture of fear and confusion on his face)

(Transcript from here.)

Remember what I said about Dean being well aware of the price that has to be paid in exchange for the power and strength to defeat supposedly unbeatable enemies?

Yeah… Dean “knows” that the time has come for him to call his own bluff. The one from all the way back in 10x09 (not that he was bluffing then, but he didn’t have to take action on it then) when he asked Cas to take him out. “Knife me. Smite me. Throw me into the freakin’ sun, whatever.”

We didn’t know that was what this moment was until the next episode. But this is the moment when the Old Yeller principle went into effect again. And you can see how much it hurts Dean, how resigned and heartbroken he is over it.

14x11 - Damaged Goods

DEAN It’s a Ma’lak box. [DEAN closes the door to the box. He and SAM are standing over it.] Secured and warded. Once inside… nothing gets out, not even an archangel. Especially an archangel.

SAM Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ve – I’ve read about these, but – but no one’s ever – they’re impossible to build.

DEAN Yeah, well, not so much.

SAM That’s your plan? You want to be buried alive?

DEAN Buried’s not safe enough. Plan is, pay a little hush money, charter a boat to take me out to the Pacific. Splash.

SAM You and Michael, trapped together – for eternity?

DEAN Yeah.

SAM You do realize how insane this is, right?

DEAN It’s the only sane play I’ve got. Michael gets out, that’s it for this world. And he will get out.

SAM Well, how do you know that for sure?

DEAN Because I do. Because I can feel him in my head. That door is giving. I can feel it giving.

SAM But there has to be another way.

DEAN There’s not, okay? There – Sam you’ve tried. Cas has tried. Jack… And I love you for trying. But none of it’s gonna work.

SAM We don’t know that.

DEAN Yeah, we do.

SAM What?

DEAN Billie.

SAM Billie?

DEAN She paid me a little visit. She said that there’s only one way this ends right. And this is it. This, right here, this box. So, she gave up the special recipe, and all I had to do was the work. It’s fate.

SAM Since when do we believe in fate?

DEAN Now, Sam. Since now.

(Transcript from here.)

Here is the moment. The one where Dean was at his absolute lowest. When he hit that point where resignation about his fate met having to act on his principles. 

14x12 - Prophet and Loss

DEAN Well, I will call this a win. Kinda nice. Going out on a high. SAM “Going out” being the operative phrase. DEAN Sorry. SAM “Sorry.” How sorry are you? Sorry that you fight to keep Donatello alive, but when it comes to you, you just throw in the towel? Or are you sorry that, after all these years, our entire lives, a-after I’ve looked up to you, after I’ve learned from you, I-I-I’ve copied you, I followed you to Hell and back… are you sorry that all of that it – it – it means nothing now? DEAN Who’s saying that? SAM You are, when you tell me I have to kill you. When you’re telling me that I have to just throw away everything we stand for, throw away faith, throw away family. We’re the guys who saved the world. We don’t just check out of it! [SAM pushes DEAN.] DEAN Sam, I have tried everything. Everything! I got one card left to play and I have to play it. SAM You have one card today! But we’ll find another tomorrow. But if you quit on us today, there will be no tomorrow! You tell me, uh, you don’t know what else to do. I don’t either, Dean. Not yet. But what you’re doing now, i-it’s – it’s wrong! It’s quitting! I mean, l-look what just happened. Donatello never quit fighting. So we could help him because he never gave up. [SAM moves closer to DEAN.] I believe in us, Dean. [DEAN doesn’t say anything. SAM gets angry and punches DEAN in the face.] I believe in us. [SAM tries to punch DEAN again, but he stops him.] DEAN Hey, hey, hey, hey! [SAM hugs DEAN.] SAM Why don’t you believe in us, too? DEAN Okay, Sam. Let’s go home. SAM What? [SAM pulls away from the hug.] DEAN Let’s go home. Maybe Billie’s wrong. Maybe. But I do believe in us.

(Transcript from here.)

And just like Dean predicted in 10x09, Sam was able to talk him out of sacrificing himself. How was he able to do that? By reminding Dean that they were the fucking Winchesters. They fucked with the cosmic balance constantly and always, always found another way. A way to avoid the Old Yeller principle. A way to live and fight again.

Which, they totally did, but the price of not throwing Dean into the ocean for an eternity of alone time with alt!Michael banging away in his head was their adopted child.

14x20 - Moriah

JACK: You’re not gonna lock me up again, are you?

DEAN: No.

(Dean raises the gun, aims at Jack and exhales deeply. Jack kneels down and bows his head. Dean, looking puzzled, lowers the gun and walks closer towards Jack. When he’s right in front of Jack, he aims the gun directly at his head. At this moment Sam comes speeding into the cemetery, car tires screeching. He gets out of the car and starts running towards Dean and Jack)

SAM: Dean? Dean!

JACK: (to Dean) I understand.

(Sam is still running, yelling for Dean. The music is getting more suspenseful as Dean holds his aim steady at Jack)

SAM: Dean, don’t! Dean? Dean!

JACK: I know what I’ve done.

SAM: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, Dean! Hey, hey, hey! Dean!

DEAN: Stay back, Sam!

SAM: (Panting)

JACK: And you were right all along. (Chuck comes up alongside Sam) I am a monster.

SAM: (to Chuck) Do something. … You’re enjoying this.

CHUCK: Shh.

(Dramatic music plays)

(Dean cocks the gun. He looks Jack in the eye for several seconds and then slowly lowers the gun. At this point, Castiel also comes running towards the area)

(Dean uncocks the gun and tosses it to the side)

(Transcript from here.)

I have yet to rewatch this episode, but from what I remember I don’t think it had completely sunk in to Dean in that moment of choice that Chuck was there revealing that he was invested in the outcome of this showdown between Dean and Jack. In that moment, that split second of choice between following through with what he’d believed for so long for following through with an extension of the order John gave him about Sam back in the hospital back in 2x01, Dean made a choice for himself. And that choice was to believe that they’d find another way. He decided that when it came right down to it, he couldn’t kill his child for making the same bargain for power and strength that he himself had made multiple times over the last 14 seasons.

He was also directly confronted with a similar situation to that from the end of season 6 and beginning of 7 with Cas and the Leviathans, in that when it really came down to it, he wasn’t capable of murdering someone he considered family.

And then Chuck had to go and erase any chance they had in following up on that. He killed Jack so that they didn’t have a chance to find a way to help Jack balance the power he’d absorbed from destroying Michael or living without his soul.

So yeah, from where we sit now with only one episode of season 15 under our belts waiting with baited breath to see where the rest of this end of the road season takes us, it makes sense that Dean, of all people, would be in the middle of an emotional fucking collapse. And that he would be a huge, whiny, pissbaby douchebag about it because that’s the Dean Winchester way.

Does that make his behavior okay? No, of course not. But does that turn any of the rest of them into saints? Nope, of course not. And I, personally, wouldn’t have it any other way. I like that they’re flawed and fucked up and keep getting back up and going back to each other and keep trying. That’s why we’ve had 15 goddamn seasons of this. Because it’s what they do.

[zacharyleigh316]

what if...

“Don’t you sometimes wish our lives were different? Like, we were destined for some greater purpose?” Dean looked over at his little brother in disbelief.

Sam was staring up at the sky, as if the stars would give him an answer to his question, as if he hadn’t asked Dean but instead sent it out to universe. Maybe he had; maybe it was even a little bit of both.

His long hair had fallen back from the up-tilt of his head, and the reflected light from above cast shadows across his face. Yet, Sam looked peaceful despite the heavy weight of his sudden revelation, bathed in cool glow from the moon.

Dean didn’t reply right away, and looked away from his brother, searching for his own answer among the stars. He thought back to dreams and nightmares alike that brought along vague images of hellfire, and demon dogs, black eyed creatures, and feathered freaks, black feathers in particular, and some old, dirty trench coat and the word blue. Images of two brothers, killing monsters and saving people, and making a makeshift family to replace the one they never had. Images of a life lived on the road, but sometimes a motel room, a bunker. It meant nothing, but something, and everything all at once.

Dean didn’t know what to do with the information. He never did. After all, what could you make of memories that weren’t yours but you’ve experienced as if they were?

He took a swig of his beer instead, and grimaced, the flavor suddenly a hard pill to swallow. The impala’s hood creaked as they shifted, and Sam’s gaze finally shifted to him, his brother’s hazel eyes burning a hole into the side of his face. He let out a sigh, and met his gaze.

“I don’t know Sammy, what do you want me to say? That sure, I wish I was some hero and knew that what I did for a living really made a difference? That yeah, life sucks and we don’t get paid, but at least we saved lives? I don’t know if I want that.”

“Can you really tell me you’re happy? Like, not just content, but truly happy?”

Dean snorted. “Of course not Sam, but that’s the way things are.

“I’m comfortable.” He continued with a shrug. “You got your job, you got Jess. You got a nice home.”

“Yeah but that’s me. What about you?”

“What about me? I got you, and Baby, and that’s all I need.”

It was Sam’s turn to snort then, and none of the brothers said anything for some time. The silence was oppressive, words that wanted to be said buried deep in their graves because they never would.

“Look, you can forget I said anything.” Sam said after a while, staring back up into the cosmos. “But when the end of the day comes, I can’t help but think this isn’t what I’m supposed to be doing. That something isn’t right. Sure I’m happy. But I’m also...unfulfilled.”

Sam’s mouth met the lip of his own bottle, and he took a long, contemplative sip. Dean glanced over to his brother, brows furrowed and frowning.

Because in whatever universe, or dimension, whatever time period, century, or generation, the Winchester brothers would always be hunters. Even if Mary didn’t die, and John was a better father, even if they didn’t move through districts, and schools, and motels, even if the apocalypse wasn’t started, even if Dean never went to Hell, even if God didn’t favor them enough to resurrect them time and time again, even if they didn’t lose all their family and friends, even if John never bought the impala, and never gave it to Dean, even if Sam didn’t have demon blood coursing through his veins, even if Dean never had the mark and even if he never became a demon, even if they never killed Death himself, even if they never met Crowley, or Rowena, or Cas, or Chuck, even if they never met Kevin, or Charlie, or Eileen, even if they didn’t fight Lucifer, or Eve, or Lilith, Metatron, or the Darkness. Even if, because that’s just how the world worked.

Fate was a cold hearted bitch, and one of those Dean’s in one of those particular universes could have even told you so, because they’ve met before.

They couldn’t put a name to the feeling, however, and neither brother could truly deny it was there.

“There’s stories I want to tell, but can’t, and there’s places I think I’ve been, but I haven’t, and there’s instincts I act upon and wonder why.” Sam is just rambling now, but Dean is afraid because he gets it, he really does.

He’s still tongue tied and possibly even more confused.

“I can hear you sometimes, you know? At night. You’re dreaming, of course, but it all sounds so real. The first time it happened I got so scared, thought someone was in the house. I went looking for a gun that wasn’t there. I don’t think I even own a gun.” Sam shook his head and smiled wistfully.

“You can deny it all you want Dean, but you’re my brother and I know you better than anyone. You know what I’m talking about, and I’m telling you right now that I feel the same.”

“Yeah, well there’s nothing we can do about it.” He snapped in reply, finishing the last dregs of his beer.

Dean never liked the feeling of being stripped bare, of becoming vulnerable. It was wholeheartedly, one hundred percent himself; it was one of the things that never changed.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe there isn’t anything we can do.” Sam was looking at him again, a stare that reminded him all too much of a certain angel of the lord, one who gave up everything and fell for the Winchesters, who put his faith in Dean and haunted his dreams.

“Why am I sensing a but here?”

“But can’t we at least try?” His brother finished, his stare turning expectant.

Dean sighed and rubbed his palms down his denim clad thighs. How would they ever attempt that? So far everything up to this point had been only glimpses of what either could be, had been, will be, or is in another place. Just not here, where it mattered.

“I dunno Sammy, this whole thing is a bit friggin weird if you ask me. I mean, where would we start?”

“I don’t know either Dean. But we’ve got to start somewhere right? And who knows what we’ll find or what will even come of it, but isn’t that the point? Don’t you want to say you at least tried?” At his older brother’s shrug, Sam continued.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to regret never acting on this impulse. Living a life unfulfilled, thinking what if? What if I listened to those visions, and what if I let myself feel these feelings.”

Dean nodded, and after a moment jumped off the hood of the impala. He turned to Sam and nodded again.

“Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Yeah, alright. Let’s do it.”

And just like that, Dean and Sam Winchester have chosen each other. And just like that, Dean and Sam Winchester have chosen the something more. Just as it was destined to be.

But even if it isn’t the same exact story, even if it isn’t the same exact written narrative, a new Winchester Gospel is born.

All the best stories need a few rewrites—and a few different versions—to mutate into its final metamorphosis, after all.

Read on Ao3 (Link)

This isn’t written for anything in particular I was just suddenly inspired by Zachariah’s comment that Sam and Dean would always choose to be hunters, even without the memories of each other or hunting, and went a little further by making them a Sam and Dean of a different universe, to support that theory. I wanted to propose a what if... if you will. So in other words, felt deep and wanted to write something deeper. And it definitely does get pretty meta at the end lol

[bluephoenixdruidicprincess]

SPN 14x20, Moriah -- Review

It's with a heavy heart that I must come to terms with the fact that this will be our last season finale, next year will be the series finale. We're about to embark on our last SPN Hellatus. It hurts so much thinking about that. But as far as a season finale goes, what an episode this was! This might be my favorite SPN season finale (and yes, I say that even with Swan Song in mind). In a season that has been very underwhelming for me, this season finale was awesome. I remember some time ago, Misha had tweeted that this season finale would be epic and I originally hadn't put too much stalk into that comment because after all, as the saying goes, "PR is not showrunning". And I remember hearing similar things about the season 13 finale and talk about how surprising it would be and it turned out to be just a so-so kind of finale and I'd predicted basically everything that was going to happen in it. But this finale was amazing. Like, it's so hard to talk about it because I honestly don't know where to start. I'm so glad that I went overboard on blacklisting tags last night because shit went down in this episode that I would've HATED to have had spoiled. Typically, I don't mind if I'm spoiled but this episode had the kind of things going on where you just have a much better experience if you don't already know for certain what's happening. But I think I've rambled in this introduction long enough. Let's get to talking about SPN 14x20, Moriah.

As always, there will be spoilers so if you haven't seen the episode, perhaps skip this. Like I said, this is not an episode you want to have spoiled for you.

I love episodes with Chuck in them. They're some of my favorite episodes. The show gets really self-aware and super meta when he's around for obvious reasons. And I love that the writers aren't afraid to go all the way with it. The digs at other writers, the digs at their own writing, it's great. Especially, the dig at writing in general. Essentially, throughout this episode we have this theme running around that Chuck is a writer and he's trying to write this perfect story and everytime he fails, he tosses it in the recycling bin and begins anew. But we have our heroes pointing out that these aren't meaningless words Chuck is simply writing down, he's messing with people's lives, what gives him the right to do that? Words have the power to change us. And when you think about it, that's what all writers do (at least in fiction but this can also happen in non-fiction, too). They manipulate their characters into fulfilling a certain type of narrative as it makes sense for the story and with little regard to how that person will feel about it. So I enjoyed that bit of self-awareness and meta put into it. When analyzing this show, we're always talking about story structure and how "insert horrible thing" has to happen for the purposes of the narrative and we have our heroes confronting Chuck about this and saying, "screw story-telling, you're putting us through the ringer so you can have a rounded story? We're done with this shit." Possibly foreshadowing for Season 15? Perhaps a different approach and bending the rules of story-telling is in Season 15's future? I'd be interested in seeing that.

We also got some truth-telling in this episode but unfortunately, the truths that needed to be told didn't get told. But I didn't really expect it to happen anyway. Hopefully, it'll happen sometime in season 15. I guess the idea behind this particular plot is that lying is necessary in order to create a peaceful environment and while that may be true, I feel like what was going on in this episode was a bad example to make a judgement on if whether or not a fully functioning society can thrive on truth-telling. Out of the blue you just suddenly had people telling the truth when they're so accustomed to be lying and to be lied at. So if you're not used to telling the truth or hearing the truth, of course it's going to throw you for a loop. It's very possible a perfectly well-functioning society can exist based on not being able to lie but the society needs to be raised in it and that's clearly not what was happening here.

Also, thank you Chuck for being stern with Dean when he broke your guitar. My heart cried when Dean destroyed that guitar. I come from a family of musically inclined leanings. We revere musical instruments as if they were living in my family. As a child, if I accidentally dropped my harmonica or flute, or I accidentally tripped over my father's grand piano while I was practicing gymnastics, you bet I was apologizing to these instruments. This show will not be complete in my eyes if Dean does not apologize to that guitar. Music is the conduit to and from our souls and I never want to see Dean treat a musical instrument with such ill-respect again. I'm sure you all think I'm joking but I'm being 100% serious. I don't joke about music.

Also, good on Sam for calling out Dean for being a nerd. I'm so happy that Sam is at a point where he feels comfortable on calling Dean out on these things. Dean needs to be called out more. After all, how can he really progress if no one's ever honest with him? And keep in mind, that's not me saying I hate Dean or anything. I don't, even with these last few episodes in mind. I'm just remarking that he has a lot of character development and progression he needs to get through in season 15. So Positive Police, you can stow your torches and pitch forks.

Have no fear, everyone. Mary is still among us. There were so many shots in that cemetery of the statue of Mother Mary that it has to be representative of the idea that Mary Winchester is watching over them. Either that, or the real Mother Mary is watching over them. And if that's the case, that would be an interesting figure to meet in the next season but I doubt we'll meet her though. For the most part, SPN tries to stay away from the specifics in religion. When they use religion, it's usually in more vague terms. But anyway, the amount of times the camera caught this statue in a scene, it truly can't be a coincidence so I'm taking it as representation that Mary is still with our heroes and watching over them which is a nice sentiment and definitely something they need on their journey of healing. I like to think that Dean noticed the statue on a subconscious level and that was in a subliminal sense speaking to him in a way.

I really liked in this episode how Cas felt like he had enough autonomy to essentially go against Dean. He was actively trying to keep Dean from killing Jack and saving Jack and before they were interrupted, Cas was even contemplating running away with Jack. Jack means that much to him that he was willing to throw away his relationship with Dean and that's real nice because for so long in this show, everything Cas does is normally attached to trying to help Dean in some way but here, this was something he specifically wanted to do for himself. His love for Jack is not linked in any way to Dean and he was willing to go against Dean to protect that love. Cas, I'm so proud of you.

And Chuck, my man. I have a lot of thoughts on everything that happened in the final act of this episode (I mean, what a final act this was!) but I'll try and be as succinct as possible. Chuck had me a little confused in this final act. I did see the bad!Chuck part coming. It's something I've always suspected since season 11. But the thing is, I'm not entirely sold on if Chuck is really the villain that he was made out to be in this final act. My reasoning? Well, when you watch that scene where Dean is contemplating shooting Jack, it's very evident that Dean is struggling with it but when he decides not to, he drops his arm holding the gun and we cut to Chuck who gives this very brief half-smile, almost like he was holding his breath and exhaling in relief when he saw Dean put the gun down. Why would Chuck do that if his goal was to get Dean to kill Jack for his story? And then he completely flips when Dean throws down the gun. Again, why? Why didn't he do that when Dean dropped his arm? It was very apparent from the time Dean let his arm fall that he wasn't going to shoot Jack so why would Chuck give that smile, wait for Dean to drop the gun and then lose his shit? My thought is that he wanted Dean to not shoot Jack and everything else that came after was just dressing his story for the next act in the Winchester Gospels. Perhaps Chuck is organizing his own death. Perhaps his real aim in all of this is by them taking on The End, possibly even killing Chuck, he can finally prove to our heroes that they don't need him anymore. And what also got me is that he claims that it's now The End and I'm just asking myself, "why?" From the other worlds we've seen, it doesn't look like he did it to these other worlds. He just kind of left them in the dumpster to do whatever they want.

Or perhaps Chuck really is doing everything for the sake of the story he's trying to write and the polar opposite mannerism I described earlier was just a delayed response in Chuck not quite realizing at the time that Dean really wasn't going to do it. And if Chuck really is writing off this world as another failed draft, perhaps this is a lesson he's going to learn in season 15 where sometimes your rough drafts are the best stories ever written. I also receive a kind of perverse enjoyment in this idea of Chuck doing everything he's doing for the sake of the story and ironically to create this wonderful story he wants, he created characters that almost certainly would go against him. He created characters that view their connections to others more important than anything else so why is he so surprised that when it came to killing one of their own, they couldn't do it? When has TFW ever been successful in simply letting the other members go?

And the ending with all the souls being released? I loved that the first soul we saw was Constance from the Pilot. Basically saying, "This is The End" by having the case that started it all be the first one to pop back up. I also thought it was interesting that Constance is a Woman in White and we literally just had a movie come out about this particular lore. It's probably not connected but I thought it was interesting, regardless. And Bloody Mary showing up? AKA my favorite MotW episode from season 1? Sign me up for Bloody Mary Part 2. I can't wait to see that.

I noticed that there was also kind of a smile on Jack's corpse-face. A very maniacal kind of smile that reminded me of the Empty. So I'm interested in seeing what that's leading into. Also, Billie and the Empty. What's going on with them? I'm excited to find out.

And this season keeps on continuing its trend with unreliable narrators and it's lovely to see. If anything, I love that this season has really been honing in on the idea that because you may ally with someone, it doesn't necessarily mean that they're your friend or that they don't have their own goals and objectives.

Like I said before, I haven't exactly been this season's #1 fan. And that's not because I dont understand what this season has been trying to do with it's story-telling, I completely understand what it was trying to do. To me, it just had a tendency to miss its mark more often than not and it was doing a lot of things I personally didn't care about. While the season not being terrible but nor has it felt like it's anything really note-worthy, either. This is probably the season I'll re-watch the least. But despite the season's underwhelming nature, they really brought in a fantastic season finale. When I do re-watch this season, this episode is probably what I'll re-watch the most. Structurally, the episode dragged a little but content wise? It was amazing. I give this episode an A-.

Hopefully, my ramblings made some sense. I had so much to say but yet was having a really difficult time on figuring out how I wanted to articulate it. I can only hope I pulled it off. Tagging @metafest in case anyone there would like to weigh in.

And with the SPN season done, Shadowhunters soon to be done, I'm finally going to be able to catch up on my To Watch list that my lovely followers have been sending recommendations for. So definitely during this hellatus (our last one 😭) the bingeing will be in full effect for The Orville, The Magicians, Gravity Falls, AHS, etc. I haven't forgotten you all.

[helianthus21]

10 Years Of Castiel

Day 3: Cas & the angels or Cas & the Winchesters

because why can’t he have both? inspired by B99′s episode “The Party”

Samandriel shifts his weight nervously from one foot to the other.

“Stand still,” berates Rachel, sending him a glare that is just this side of disdainful.

“I'm nervous,” he defends himself. “We're finally meeting the man Castiel chose over Heaven.”

He says the name Castiel like a revelation. Like he's not sure he's worthy of tasting the word on his tongue.

Anna steps forward and puts a hand on Samandriel's shoulder. “He did not choose one thing over the other,” she assures gently. “He simply moved into a new home.” Her hand tightens on his shoulder, not less gentle, but with underlying sternness to it. “In any case, have I not told you to dress appropriately for this, Samandriel?”

Samandriel looks down at the work uniform of the Wiener Hut his vessel was wearing when he said Yes, and his eyes widen in panic. He hadn't thought of changing his vessel's costume. Now what would they think of him? When Anna mentioned appropriate outer appearances, he'd thought 'take a human vessel', for burning the humans' eyes out was considered a social faux-pas when attending human festivities. Really, it would be just rude.

“Humans have a high regard for their 'dress code', I believe it is called,” provides Hannah helpfully.

Even without seeing it, the whole flock that stands in a circle around the entrance of the Bunker can feel Balthazar's eye-roll as a wave rolling through their graces. “Someone who thinks wearing those ridiculous plaid scraps of clothing is à la mode has no business judging other people's fashion senses, trust me, darling.”

Anna rounds on him. “And you,” she says, pointing an almost accusing finger at him. “Behave. No snide remarks towards Dean. In fact,” she considers, face turning oddly green around the edges as she visualises the multitude of Balthazar's possible social transgressions. “Don't talk to Dean at all. Find an unobtrusive corner and when approached talk about... wine. Yes, that might be for the best.”

“I'll just talk about fighting techniques and military strategy,” Inias practically bounces with excitement at the prospect of acquainting himself with these humans. “They are all hunters, right? They'll love the subject of war.”

Anna looks around the group one last time and asks if everyone's ready before she presses the door bell. After just a few seconds, the door opens and Castiel greets them with a mild smile and excitedly buzzing grace. “You're here!” he says, and then, more subdued, “Thank you for coming. I hope you found the way without complications.”

“Hello, Castiel!” greets Samandriel. He'd only ever caught glimpses of The Rebellious One, and it is an honor to be graced with his presence. “Your trench coat is magnificent,” he says, and judging by the warning squint Anna sends his way and Balthazars gleeful amusement he must have promptly made a fool of himself.

But Castiel doesn't seem to notice. “Thank you. I wear it every day.”

Behind his back, Samandriel hears Balthazar murmur something that sounds like “This promises to be very entertaining.”

At this very moment, another figure joins them at Castiel's side, rubbing a hand up and down his back in a manner that seems like it’s a familiar gesture between them. Castiel leans into the touch and smiles up at Dean Winchester.

“Hey, so, glad to have you here and all that,” Dean greets them half-heartedly, but Samandriel beams right over his lack of courtesy and sticks out his laden arms towards him.

“We bear gifts for our hosts!”

Reluctantly, like he suspects the carton to hold a bomb instead of a dessert native to human cuisine, he accepts the present. “It's pie!” Samandriel encourages, until Dean finally opens the lid.

He observes the contents, and then a judgmental look that could rival Archangel Raphael's (may he rest for their peace) hits Samandriel from under long lashes. “That's not pie,” Dean corrects drily. “That's cake.”

Samandriel shifts again, nervous about having misstepped. “I-,” he stammers. “Aren't those... the same?”

A heavy silence follows, so charged that it reminds him of the calm of the gathering of Grace before a smiting. Then: “They're not the same!”

“Dean.” Castiel intervenes by laying a hand on top of Dean's shoulder, and the effect is instant. Dean puts on a more relaxed posture and plasters on a smile.

“Thanks for the... cake. Can I offer you some of it? Maybe,” he shrugs a shoulder. “All of it?”

Before Samandriel can respond, Anna pushes her way past him into the Bunker, halting just in front of the hosts. “That would be most gracious of you, thanks.” With another warning glare towards the group of angels, she leads the way to the center of Castiel's birthday party.

Inside, there are people Samandriel has heard of from the Gospels. Sam Winchester may be the most prominent of them, but there's also Claire Novak of the bloodline of Castiel's vessels, and the prophet Kevin Tran as well as who appears to be his mother looking askance at the angels. The woman beside Sam Winchester is a Man of Letter legacy and huntress with the name Eileen Leahy, as she tells them. Two other women surprise Samandriel by throwing their arms around him in greeting, appearing to prefer a much less formal greeting ritual than the rest of the hunters. The one with the red hair, Samandriel learns, rules over a land called Moondoor, and the other one introduces herself as Donna, a sheriff of some American state that is not Kansas, where they’re currently located.

Human hunters are not the only guests on this party, however. There's a gruff looking vampire who grunts out he's “Benny” and then disappears to whisper something into Dean's ears, a young psychic by the name of Patience and an anxious looking dreamwalker who never leaves Claire Novak's side for too long.

In the dark haired young girl who laughs about something the other sheriff, Jody Mills, is saying, Samandriel can sense faint traces of vampirism. He's curious about the story she could tell, but hesitates to approach.

“Samandriel!” Castiel's voice catches him unaware and he whirls around. His little heart beats against the fragile ribcage of his borrowed body. Castiel is carrying a plate with a slice of the cake he brought and offers it to Samandriel. “Sorry, I should have told you. Dean prefers pie. But I personally find your cake most excellent. Can I ask, where did you buy it?”

“I made it myself!” Samandriel says, his wings spreading proudly over his head in the etheric plane.

Castiel seems impressed indeed, just as Samandriel had hoped. “Good work,” he praises and Samandriel feels as if the skin on his vessel's face heats up.

When Dean again steps up next to Castiel, he supposes his chance has come. He'll befriend the new family of The Rebellious One. “What did you think about the movie Tombstone?” he asks, apropos of nothing. Anna had briefed them about social etiquette, but her lecture about How To Start A Conversation had seemed so unnecessary complicated to him back then.

Dean raises an eyebrow his way. “You've watched Tombstone?”

In reality, Samandriel has only read the synopsis on the back of this flat visual device humans use to play back their animated pictures, but he nods eagerly.

“Well, it's one of my favourite movies. What was you favourite scene?”

And that question makes Samandriel's mind go blank. “Uhhhm,” he stumbles through an answer that won't come, can't come because he can't have a favourite scene of something he has never watched. “When they... engraved... the tombstone?” He tries, thinking he can't be too far off when the title already features a tombstone.

One side of Dean's mouth twitch, and he opens it to keep their conversation going, but before he can do so, Castiel takes his hand and moves to pull him away from the little circle they’ve formed. “Can I speak to you for a minute, Dean? Sorry to leave you, Samandriel, if you would join Charlie over there, I believe she wanted to show you how the Google worked.”

And with that, they're gone. Samandriel turns his attention to the young woman who grins and waves him over with a gesture of her hand.

***

“Why are you mad at me? It's your angel friends who're screwing up your birthday party! You should be yelling at them!”

Dean storms through the door to their bedroom, directly followed by Cas who closes the door to give them even more privacy.

“They're not the problem, Dean. You've been dismissive, contrary, and downright rude to them when all they've been doing is try to fit in. You completely thwarted Inias' and Samandriel's attempts at conversation!”

Dean rolls his eyes. “If you can call that a conversation...”

“When Inias started his retelling of angelic warfare you claimed such conversation topics were banned in the Bunker. That was an outright lie, there's almost nothing you like talking about more than beating up enemies!”

“Not with them, I don't.”

With a sigh, Dean lets himself flop onto their bed. The springs squeak but there's another noise accompanying it that has nothing to do with old furniture. He exchanges a look with Cas, and notices he's already drawn his angel blade. With Cas as rear cover, he jumps off the mattress and peeks under the bed.

Three pairs of blue eyes are blinking back at them.

“Surprise?” Balthazar tries.

*

“In my defense, I was just trying to keep them in check,” says Anna, as Cas drags them all back to the war room. He can't believe he'd been so wrong about his brothers and sisters. Well, again.

“I was trying to investigate your recreational interests to find a common ground for social bonding,” defends Inias, facial expression distorted into a sad frown.

“You mean you were spying on us,” barks Dean. He turns around to confront Balthazar. “And what's your excuse?”

Balthazar shrugs, not looking guilty at all. “Just wanted to raid your secret alcohol stash.”

While Dean's still trying to put his indignation into words that aren't stammers, Anna turns to Cas. “I'm sorry, Cas. I tried to hold them back.”

Castiel touches her forearm gently. “Don't blame yourself, Anna. I should've known this was a bad idea.” He turns towards the rest of their guests. Despite the fact that this 'birthday party' had not been a wish of his – Sam and Dean had insisted, not taking no, or 'I'm an angel, I don't have a birthday' for an answer – he feels dejected about the less than favorable turn of events.

“Maybe,” he starts, shoulders slumping with defeat. “Maybe it's best if you go. All of you.” He gestures to the angels, making sure they know he's addressing them and only them.

Anna nods at him sadly but understandingly. She moves to usher the ragtag group of angels towards the door.

But: “Wait!”

The sudden protest surprises both Cas and the angels. And most of all, probably, the speaker himself: Dean's scratching at his neck in a manner Cas knows indicates his nervousness.

“I mean – Cas, you don't have to,” he sighs, looking a bit out of place in this strange circumstance where he finds himself defending the angels of all people. “They meant well, don't punish them on my account.”

“Dean, it's not-”

“I was giving 'em a hard time, Cas, you were right,” he looks sheepishly at Cas. “I'm just wary whenever angels are in the picture, I can't help it. You've been hurt so many times, and I can't stand watching you go through this every time. But these guys,” he gestures to Anna and Samandriel, and even Balthazar, “they're good people, Cas, and you wanted them here and I shouldn't have been such a... jerk,” he laughs dryly. “It's your party and you should enjoy it with everyone you love, and if that includes those no-good, pain-in-the-ass angels, then who am I to stand in the way. You deserve it, man.”

Castiel takes a look around, notes the look of hope on Samandriel and Inias' faces, watches Rachel's hard frown melting away in the face of Donna's winning enthusiasm, the quiet curiosity with which Hannah pokes at a bagel on her plate, and finally, catches Balthazar's encouraging grin.

They are good people, he thinks. Dean's right, he shouldn't throw that away because of a minor faux-pas. He turns to Dean again, leans forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Dean.” For indulging him. For trying to protect him even when the situation doesn't necessarily warrant it.

And also, “No one's ever expended such an effort for me.” He gestures around at the party, at all the people who've shown up to celebrate his existence. His grace beats a happy rhythm against his ribcage.

Dean smiles back at him.

“Well, it's about time,” comments Balthazar, the softness in his eyes betraying his posed nonchalance as he nips at his newly snatched wine glass.

Castiel bumps his shoulder against him in a brotherly affection that is new to him. He decides he likes it. “Thank you, too,” he says. He takes in the mix of bright souls and pulsing graces, and thinks that what they've created today, the merging of his two worlds, might indeed work, could even be something good, if they'll let it.

It’s worth a try, in any case.

[orionsangel86]

Destiel Going Canon? Key themes to look out for...

So I recently answered this ask and mentioned that I have a few key indicators that I am looking out for in the show which for me personally, will confirm the path the writers are taking in relation to endgame Destiel. I wasn’t thinking too much at the time about outlining those indicators, but since both @destielrose and @carasauruswrex asked me to talk about them, as well as getting the below ask from a nonny:

I figured I’d talk about about the kind of indicators I’m looking for. 

Usually I don’t like going on about this stuff too much because there is always a risk that too many people will take my random indicators really seriously and start seriously getting upset with the show if they don’t actually happen, and I don’t want that to be the case. Also because ultimately I have no idea how they are planning to progress this story regarding Bi!Dean and Destiel and anything I say is pure speculation based on my own logical understanding of how to build a decent narrative that would make sense to the audience.

The fact also remains that even if we DO get all the indicators I may mention, it still doesn’t actually mean 100% the writers will go ahead and make destiel an undeniably canon pairing. I can’t predict the future, I just happen to like looking into all this stuff and asking why when certain themes are continuously used in a narrative. So please don’t take this post for gospel. It’s all speculation. 

A while back I wrote a post about “preparing the audience” in which I explained how the show has a way of preparing the audience for anything that may surprise it, by adding in “buffers” which acclimatise the audience to certain concepts such as Cas formerly being in a female vessel. I spoke about how this is a clever way of trying to deal with an audience of extremely mixed opinions, political views, intelligence, tolerance, etc. and trying to please everyone whilst taking baby steps towards their own ultimate goals.

When I talk about key indicators for canon endgame destiel, I am talking about the continuation of using these buffers (some examples of which I outlined in that post). When I wrote that post, 12x19 had only just aired, and I was still reeling with utter disbelief that they would include a scene where Dean gives Cas a mixtape in a supremely intimate moment that made me feel like an intruder to my own TV screen. Never would I have begun to imagine that season 13 could have made it so much worse. 

Starting with where we are currently, it can no longer be denied that Dean and Cas love each other deeply. This has been made textual over and over again in season 13 on Dean’s side and was made pretty damn clear in 12x12 on Cas’s side (also arguably in 13x04 though far more subtle). The audience already knows that whatever these guys have, it goes beyond a standard friendship, and also goes beyond a brotherly bond because of the clear comparisons in Cas’s relationship with Dean and his relationship with Sam.

So what are the main hurdles left in order to establish destiel as a legitimate pairing?

The first and most obvious is sexuality. To a heteronormative audience, they would look at both Dean and Cas and say “they are straight guys”. Therefore the main indicators I would be looking for are to do with sexuality and bringing them both out of the closet.

Now Cas has never shown much interest in sex or sexuality, but he has only canonically been with women, so it’s easy to understand why certain people (heteronormative GA people) would still see him as straight. A key indicator then would be to somehow imply that Cas doesn’t give a shit about sexuality and is not straight.

You might want to interrupt me here and say “but Saz, we already had that in 7x01 and in 10x17″! Why YES we did! That’s right! So the key indicators would be LIKE those moments but stronger. For instance having a man flirt with Cas and Cas showing some interest (bonus points if he looks and is dressed like Dean). or we get another “teachable moments” scene between Cas and the boys and Cas specifically asks them about MEN much to their surprise. Cas getting grumpy about them going on about waitresses and instead asks them what they think of the waiter for example. It doesn’t have to be huge, but another reminder of this would be excellent timing.

For DEAN however any indicator for this category would be huge. I wrote a whole bloody post on his bisexual reveal, and I feel that Dean coming out of the closet would be the biggest indicator of them all that Destiel is going canon. Because well, that’s been the whole debate right? It’s the one thing holding the GA back from even CONSIDERING Destiel. “Dean is Straight!” they say. 

So whilst I am partly hoping for a bisexual reveal within this season (or at least early next season) other key indicators would be more noteworthy moments such as 8x13 Aaron scene. Or the glorious confessional scene in 10x16. Something that imo is substantial meat to the bisexual reading that isn’t easily argued away by an anti. Something that is enough to make the GA go “wait a minute...”

Those are obviously the biggest indicators. Though there are other things I would of course think would be huge moments as well.

Sam Winchester being more and more exasperated as per 12x10.

Sam dropping more hints. Conversations like 11x02 for example. Or in light of his current arc saying something to Dean like “you don’t know what it’s like because YOU have CAS”. 

I also think it will be a HUGE deal if either Sam or Dean ADMITS to Cas what it was actually like when Cas was dead during 13x01 to 13x05. Because Cas has NO IDEA. I would prefer this conversation to come from Sam. Sort of in a situation where Dean has an argument with Cas because Cas wants to go off and be a self sacrificial dumbass again for Jack and Dean isn’t happy about it and storms off, and then Sam just says something like “you need to understand Cas, you don’t know what it was like when you were gone. Your death broke my brother. Please don’t die again. Because I’m frightened if that happens I’ll be burning TWO bodies on a pyre...”

The other moments I would be looking out for are small things such as:

Dean’s bedside table moving back to the other side of the bed the way it was in 9x14, 

A picture of Cas in amongst Dean’s current photo collection, or one of Dean on Cas’s phone. 

The mixtape coming back into play somehow. 

Cas moving into the Bunker permanently and being shown to have his own room (this was an ambiguous topic in 12x19 as it appeared that Dean was running to a room allocated to Cas but it was debated that the room was also used to house Mary at one time so maybe what I’m asking for here is a Bunker room that Cas has personalised somehow.)

Other characters referring to them as a couple again. We used to get this a lot in the earlier seasons, but it hasn’t happened hardly at all recently and I actually consider this quite telling. The change came around the s8 time period which we also consider as the same time that TPTB decided to treat Destiel as a serious narrative in the show. The only times it DID happen after that was in 10x05 which doesn’t really count because it was a celebration of fandom and can be isolated from the actual narrative and also in 10x14 in a deleted scene, and that whole moment seemed less like a joke and more like a serious conversation where BOTH parties involved were admitting their very real and very non platonic love for Dean. It didn’t read the same way as the earlier characters joking about them being boyfriends, it read far too serious (which is why I think it was cut). So to bring this back, to have people like Rowena, Anael, Ketch, even Claire or Alex or someone non threatening, start referring to them as a couple to get a rise out of them would be interesting, because it would also be textually reminding the general audience that this is *a thing* in this show and get them thinking about it again... buffers people. Buffers are important. 

More scenes together/ shots where they are literally together. It has been the case in the later seasons that Dean and Cas have been separated quite a lot due to various plot reasons. I also stand by my own reasoning that if they did keep them together, the scenes between them at this point would be so freaking intimate it would be hard to watch without feeling like an intruder (10x03 and 12x19 are obvious examples of this) so for the writers to start introducing MORE scenes of Dean and Cas TOGETHER (and more specifically together and alone) it would be interesting to see their interactions and if they build on the destiel subplot - because they can hardly avoid it. Just having them interact in intimate ways is the best way now to start getting the audience used to what should in theory hopefully become a canon romantic relationship.

That’s everything I have right now. But like I said above I stress that none of these things would actually MEAN Destiel is going canon (except maybe a coming out episode for Dean) just that they would make me feel more and more convinced of the writers plan if they WERE introduced, whereas if we do just happily plod along in season 13 and NONE of the above happen at all, then I will definitely feel a bit disappointed. At the same time even if they don’t introduce any of the above, they may instead introduce a whole bunch of other stuff that I absolutely couldn’t have predicted (like the MIXTAPE) and throw me totally off guard. 

Ultimately, if we get another run of episodes like 12x10 - 12x12 and 12x19 I will be extremely happily and on cloud 9 about my feelings for destiel. Those episodes alone already raised my hopes and expectations for it as endgame, and season 13 episodes 1-6 solidified that, so really they can only go up from here. It’s just a case of ensuring that the show remains on track towards canon destiel rather than derailing somewhere along the line, but as of this moment this canon train definitely hasn’t derailed.

[feartheophanim]

Oberon and Michael

 I wrote this based on... fuck... where’s the screen captures of the fucked up imbd page???  UGH.  Anyway, some one fucked up the imbd page for season 13.  It said Jensen Ackles was playing ‘Michael’ and Jared Padalecki was playing ‘Oberon’.  So, yeah, this happened. Expect: ~2k, destiel, twink!dean, possession/consent discussion, profound bond, alternate canon universe

@aromantic-dad @ambersagen @winjennster @mittensmorgul @castielnovak @dragonpressgraphics @hangsabove @deanandhiscas Lol.  Hi friends, long time no see. :D

“Alternate reality, my ass.  There’s alternate Cas, so we should be able to find alternate me.”  Dean trudged on through the dusty wasteland world.  He wiped his sleeve over his brow.

Sam shuffled to his side, using a hand to shield his eyes from the sun and sand.  “Alternate Bobby didn’t know us, Dean.  What makes you think that alternate Cas does?” 

Stopping short, Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam.  Because it’s Cas.  “It’s our best lead.”  He took back up walking with more fervor.  “If you have a better idea, get to sharing.”

Rounding a rocky protrusion of earth, they almost ran into a bunker door, no unlike their bunker, the MOL bunker.  Dean shoved a hand into his pocket for his keys.

“Do you think we’re actually going to be that lucky?”  Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother, before turning around and keeping watch.

Dean jammed the key into the lock.  “Well, I think that the universe owes us a win.”

“This is a different universe.”

“Yeah, well, take a look around.  The universe owes us too.”  

The key turned and the lock clicked open.  

Taking a sweeping look around, Dean pushed Sam into the bunker before closing the door immediately behind them.

“Sam?”  It was a Dean-voice, but it didn’t sound like Dean.  It sounded like Dean 10 years ago.  It sounded like when Sam was young.  “Sam, what are you doing here?  You shouldn’t be here; we need to stay on opposite sides of the world.”

In a rush and a tell-tale flutter of wings, Castiel was at Sam’s neck with an angel blade.

Immediately, Sam lifted his hands in a surrender.  “I’m not your Sam.”

“I know.”  Gravel.  Oh, sweet gravel.

“Cas?”  Dean rounded his brother to see alternate Cas.  He wore his usual trenchcoat, but, instead of Jimmy’s suit, he had a pressed military uniform.  Because everyone had been drafted.

“What is this?”  Alternate Cas looked back and forth between Dean and Dean.

Now that he could see himself, Dean could see why he sounded younger.  He was younger.  Alternate him stared up at him from a 20-year-old face.  It was like he was looking into an old photograph.  Alternate Dean’s eyes grew wide.  “Cas?  Cas what’s going on?  Are they shape-shifters?”

“No.”  Sam cleared his throat before continuing.  “We’re from another dimension.”

“Like we haven’t heard that before.”  Alternate Dean narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.  

He was a twink.  Great, just great.  “How old are you?”  Dean couldn’t help it; they should’ve been born at the same time.  It shouldn’t be that different.  Bobby was Bobby-aged.  Cas’ vessel still looked the same age.

“38.”  Alternate Dean pursed his lips.  It was obscene.  He needed to not.  “Got hit by an age spell from one of Michael’s troops.  It’s a lot harder to die from old age if you don’t age in the first place.”

Dean chuckled.  “So, you’re going to look like that forever?”

Alternate Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed a beer off the table, taking a swig.  “Yeah, it’s a tragedy.”  He turned around, looking up at Dean through his lashes.  “Doesn’t get me any attention.”  He brought his beer to his lips, pursing them prettily.  

Yeah, to say Dean wasn’t turned on would be a lie, but he’d always been a fan of masturbation, so who could blame him?

Alternate Castiel let his weapon drop.  He still looked wary, but he gave them the benefit of the doubt, turning around to glare at alternate Dean.  “Stop that Dean.”

“What?”  Alternate Dean flopped down in the chair and stacked his feet on the edge of the table.  “It’s nice knowing I can defile Michael’s vessel so perfectly.”

Sam looked very uncomfortable in the my-brother-is-being-overtly-sexual sort of way.  Castiel looked to be uncomfortable too, but Dean was happy to realize it was more of a you-little-shit-stop-making-my-job-hard, and by ‘job’ he meant-

“But that doesn’t explain who you are or what you’re doing in my bunker.”  Alternate Dean placed the beer bottle on the table heavily, punctuating his sentence.

Dean swept a hand out.  “Just figured you could use some company.  It’s a hard knock life and all that.”  

This bunker was very similar to their bunker.  It looked to be a mirror image of theirs, but that probably more from the fact that it was a different MOL location to begin with.  The major difference was the amount of angel warding painted blatantly over the walls.  They overlapped.  There were old crackling ones; new still-wet ones.

“I like your art project.”  Waving a lazy finger around, Dean careful paced along the wall, looking at the sigils.  His lazy finger found it’s way to his alternate.  “So, Rapunzel looking for her night in shining armor?”  Dean raised an eyebrow.

Alternate Dean licked his lips and turned to alternate Cas.  “I already have one.”

Rolling his eyes, alternate Cas huffed before striding away toward the hallway.  He must’ve decided to trust them.  Awesome.

With alternate Cas gone, alternate Dean deflated and gazed after him for a long moment before letting out a long breath.

Sam moved from where he’d been pinned by the angel blade and slid into a chair across from alternate Dean.  He looked weirded out by this Dean’s age.  “So, you’re stuck in here?”

Shrugging, alt Dean pulled his feet from the table and shifted up to the open books and typewriter on the table.  “Yep.  I’m an angel vessel.  People want to kill me.  Angels want to enslave me.”

“You’ve held out for a long time, though.”  Sam leaned forward; he was very interested in the details he might glean from this conversation.  Leave it to Sam to make dimension-hopping into a learning experience.  “In not the best conditions, I might add.”

Alt Dean pulled a book toward him on the table.  It was like the fun had left the room with alt Cas.

Dean meandered around.  He looked more intently at some of the sigils he didn’t recognize.  God, was he making this into a learning experience?  

“I’ve just been in here, acting like a coward.”

“In here? For how long?”  

There was a pause then a deep breath.  “I don’t know.”  Alt Dean shook his head.  “I just don’t know anymore.  I try not to think about it.”  He took another long swig from his beer bottle.

“Well, what do you do in here?”  Sam leaned away and flickered his gaze around the room.

Alt Dean waved a hand at a pile of papers with typewriter script.  “A year or two ago, Cas dared me to make a record of current events, the newest gospel.”  He grabbed a corner of the stack and let them flip back down, the sound filling the silent space.  He slapped Sam’s hand when he reached for it.  “You don’t want to read it.”

Interesting, Dean went over to see it, taking a seat at the table too.

���There might be something to learn from it.”  Same tried again only to meet the same response.

“Half of it is porn.”  Alt Dean said with an bored expression.

Dean barked out a laugh.  “Nice!”  That time, he reached for it.  He wasn’t slapped.

Noticing, Sam made an indignant whining sound.  “What so he can read it?”

Shrugging, alt Dean tucked his hands behind his head and leaned back.  “If you’re anything like this universe’s Sam, then you don’t want to read it.”  He suddenly jolted forward to tap the edge of the papers Dean was holding, grabbing his attention.  “5 entire chapters in the Book of the Angel Michael are girl on girl, angelic-kinky sex.”

“Awesome.”  Dean flipped through the pages a little, trying to find that.

Sam shook his head.  “Anyway.”  He shook his head some more, like he was trying to dislodge water from his ear.  “Yeah, anyway, speaking of your universe’s Sam, where is he?”

“I don’t know.”  Alt Dean pressed his lips together before continuing.  “He’s out there somewhere.  Sometimes I hear the angels talk about him, well they talk about ‘the younger Winchester vessel’, but that’s all I get.”

“You hear the angels?”  Sam leaned in again.  

Alt Dean nodded.  “This,” he made a sweeping gesture to his body, “is Enochian magic.  I got upgraded.”  He played with the pages of the book closest to him on the table.  With his other hand, he tapped a finger to his temple.  “Got angel radio.  That’s how I keep a record of events.”

“Ah.”  Sam nodded along.  He opened his mouth to say something else, but then closed it.  He did it twice before alt Dean stepped in.

“You’re safe, safer than me.  What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t ensure that?”  He twiddled his fingers like he was lying.

At that, Dean let his hands go lack onto the table with the papers in them.  “So, where is he?”

“Well, a while back we had this great idea of being possessed by something else.  You know?  It would be a lot harder for Michael or Lucifer to possess us if we were already possessed.”  Alt Dean slid his eyes away.

Dean’s voice was harsher this time.  “So, where is he?”

Alt Dean remained silent, not looking at them.

“Lemme rephrase this for you,” Dean hummed, more for dramatic affect than anything else, “who’s parading around in my little brother?”

Alt Dean’s face looked even more pitiful because it was so young.  He looked like a kicked puppy when he finally squared his jaw and stared Dean back in the eyes.  “It was his idea.  Admittedly, he had planned on it being me, but... anyway... he’s possessed by Oberon.”

Silence passed between them.

Dean blinked a few times.  “Like, ‘King of the Fairies’ Oberon?”

Alt Dean nodded.

“Damn it, Sam!  I told you not to mess with the fairies.”  Dean glared at his brother.  Worse than anything else, Sam looked like he had been expecting that answer.  “Wait,” Dean held up a hand to Sam, “did you think that up too?  Some plan, Sam.”

“Well, obviously, I didn’t actually go through with it!”  Sam protested.  With that, the floodgate for Sam’s questions was opened.  “How did it work?  When did you do this?  How long has he been possessed?  Did he get tricked?  What was-”

“Woah, woah.”  Dean clapped a hand onto Sam’s shoulder.

Alt Dean looked relieved.  It must’ve been a long time since he’d dealt with his own Sam.  This must be like torture for him; it would be to Dean.

“Fine.”  Sam ran a hand through his hair, collecting his thoughts and composure.  “One question then.”

“Shoot,” both Deans said at once.

Sam nodded, like he was encouraging himself to ask his question.  “I know that my Dean,” he gestured like they weren’t all entirely sure which Dean he was talking about, “wouldn’t just hand me over to be possessed.  He’d be the one possessed; that’s just how he thinks.”  He paused.  “So, how is it that you’re not the possessed one?”

Taking a steadying breath, alt Dean stared at the table.  “He tried.  Oberon tried to possess me.  Let’s just...” He looked back up, clenching his jaw for a second.  “Let’s just say that I have consent issues.”

At that second, alt Cas returned.  He looked cleaner, but Dean was pretty sure that he hadn’t been washing up.  Here, Castiel was still powered up by angel juice and could just poof away grime.

Dean turned back to alt Dean.  He wanted to see if he could pull anything more from him about this Oberon thing; it might be important to them some day.  He wasn’t sure what all he was supposed to be doing in this universe, but maybe he’d have to meet Oberon-Sam at some point.  He’d really like to be prepared for that.

But, it wasn’t going to happen.  Alt Dean’s attention was completely stolen by alt Cas’ return.  Almost under his breath, he mumbled, “... and something else is in my head.”

Hoping that Sam hadn’t heard that, Dean flicked his gaze toward his brother by the corner of his eye.  Unfortunately, Sam had caught the last bit; he was sitting their with his mouth moving over the words silently, his brain busy trying to give them meaning.

Dean knew what his alternate self meant immediately though.  He probably wouldn’t have if he’d met him 4 days ago, if he’d met him before Castiel - his Castiel, not his-universe’s Castiel, HIS Castiel - had... had bit it.  

He was painfully aware of the emptiness in his head.  He’d never given the profound-bond-thing much credit, but he was left so alone.  He always felt like he’d forgotten something, like he’d left something at home but couldn’t quite determine what it was.  It was Cas, his Cas.

That was how he knew that alternate Cas would lead them to the alternate Dean, because Dean couldn’t imagine a universe where they didn’t go together.

Dean was lost in his head when the bunker’s sigils began to glow.  He was lost in that ever-present loneliness.

There were muffled yells; they sounded like they were far away or screaming through pillows.

“Dean Winchester, do you want that loneliness to go away?  You don’t have to be lonely anymore.”

A tear leaked from the corner of his eye.  The muffled yells were drowned out by a ringing in his ears.  He couldn’t take it anymore.  Dean whispered, “Yes.”

{I’m gonna post this on ao3 too, so you can find it here.}

[huntertales]

Part Three: A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing. (99 Problems S05E17)

Episode Summary:  Sam, Dean and the reader are outnumbered by demons, but are saved at the last minute by townspeople who are aware of the apocalypse. They meet a pastor, who introduces them to his daughter Leah, whom he claims is a prophet. When she starts turning the townspeople against each other in the name of the Lord, the Winchester and the reader realize they must kill her. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 4,362.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/N', document.getElementById("inputTxt").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

Through the rest of the night and to the early morning, you spent your time with a tipsy Sam and a drunk angel, trying to figure out what exactly Leah's ultimate goal was here in this small town. Sam had started to grow worried when his brother hadn't returned home a few hours after curfew was placed. You were tempted to get the burden off your chest about the fight that you had with him, but you bit your tongue, knowing just the thought of what you said made a rush of guilt rushed over you all again. Dean was a big boy, he could take care of himself. But with Cas’ warning that things were only going to get worse with the matter of time, you could feel yourself starting to grow more nervous as time went on. But the man arrived back to the motel later in the morning, catching the three of you off guard while your nose was stuffed in a book.

“We went out looking for you—” Sam jumped up from the couch when he noticed his brother had arrived safely back home. But he found himself stopping mid-sentence when his eyes wandered down to the man’s hands, and taking notice of a substance that made him grow nervous. You slowly looked over to see what the fuss was all about. Your eyes widened slightly when you caught sight of the blood that stained his hands. “You all right?”

“Yeah. It’s—It’s not my blood. Paul’s dead.” Dean informed you and the younger man about what he had witnessed last night. You found the book slipping out from your grip as you felt yourself inhale a sharp breath from the news. Sam seemed taken back himself. He’d just spent a few hours with the man sharing a bottle at his bar. Everything seemed fine when he left. “Jane shot him.”

“It’s starting.” Cas said, talking to you and the younger Winchester.

“What’s starting?” Dean asked with confusion. He looked at his brother for an answer before he turned his attention to the angel that had been eerily quiet. Whenever they left him a message, the angel would be at their side in matter of moments. “Where the hell have you been?”

Cas looked over at the man and gave him the blunt truth, “On a bender.”

“Did he—Did you say ‘on a bender’?” Dean wondered as he looked at the angel with a confused expression from what he just heard.

“Yeah.” Sam mumbled. “He’s still pretty smashed.”

“It is not of import.” Cas said, not wanting to talk about his hangover. You couldn’t help yourself but let out an inappropriate chuckle as you shook your head from what was going on here. “We need to talk about what’s happening here.”

“Well, I’m all ears.” Dean offered as he went to the sink to wash his hands.

“Well, for starters…” Sam sat back down on the couch and gave his brother the bit of news that you had gathered last night all on your own. While Dean might have seen a softer side to the woman, you gotten a strange vibe off her that turned out to be right. “Leah is not a real prophet.”

“What is she, exactly?” Dean asked.

“The whore.” Cas answered for the man.

“Wow. Cas,” The oldest Winchester was caught off guard from the response as he grabbed a rag from the counter to wipe his hands clean. “Tell us what you really think.”

"She rises when Lucifer walks the earth. 'And on her forehead was written a name of mystery: Babylon the great, mother of prostitutes and of earth's abominations.' She’s called the whore not in the sense she is sexually promiscuous with others, but because she's unfaithful to the man she's supposed to worship—God. ‘And she shall come bearing false prophecy.’” You explained to the man as you set down the book you’d been reading before he came in. Setting it down on the table, you tapped your finger to the drawing to give Dean a better idea. “Cas says she has the power to take a human’s form, read minds. Book of revelation calls her ‘the whore of Babylon.’ Whore is catchy and to the point, really.”  

“The real Leah was probably killed months ago.” Sam speculated.

“What about the demons attacking the town?” Dean asked, bringing up a good point.

“They’re under her control.” Cas explained to the man. You wondered if the nifty exorcism that everyone had been using was the real deal, but come to find out, she was lying to them for the fun of it. “Fake. It actually means ‘You breed with the mouth of a goat.’” The angel had gotten a kick out of the joke as he smiled to himself. He looked over at the three of you to see if you had found it just as funny, but you looked nothing short of confused, the brothers stared at him with a blank expression. “It’s funnier in enochian.”

“So the demons smoking out—that’s just a con?” Dean asked. “Why? What’s the endgame?”

“What you just saw—innocent blood spilled in God’s name. And you heard all that Heaven talk to try and win over these people.” You said. “She’s manipulating them. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“To slaughter and kill and sing peppy little hymns.” Dean muttered underneath his breath. He pushed himself back to his feet and headed back over to the counter and threw the towel back down where he found it. “Awesome.”

“Her goal is to condemn as many souls to hell as possible. And it’s just the beginning.” Cas said, giving the three of you the unfortunate news. They weren’t on their way to paradise, but a one way ticket to eternal damnation. “She’s way on her way to dragging this whole town into the pit.”

“All right. So, then,” Dean asked the important question. “How do we go pimp of Babylon all over this bitch?”

The angel looked over at you and Sam, as if you had any clue to figuring out how to solve this problem and kill a whore. You shrugged your shoulders as you looked over at the younger Winchester, but when you did, you noticed from the corner of your eye that Cas had disappeared from your sight. You didn't know why, but his tactics of leaving had annoyed you every single time, you should have gotten used to it by now. The three of you waited around for a little while until Cas got back. You changed spots so you were now sitting on the couch with Sam as Dean took your seat to occupy himself. Your feet were occupying an empty corner of the table so you could rest the book on your thighs to balance it better. As you drifted off into your own private thoughts, you didn’t realize your odd habit was rubbing someone the wrong way.

Your eyes wandered away from the pages when you felt someone’s burning gaze upon you for more than just the appropriate few seconds. Sam was occupied with reading a book of his own, and Cas was still gone, leaving one culprit for the rude behavior. Dean was sitting to your right in the chair but his focus was only on you. From the annoyed expression on his face, it seemed the man hadn't come back to the motel room after spending the night away from you with a clear head. Whatever you did annoyed him to no extent.

“Mind getting your grubby feet off the table?” Dean asked you. “It’s not very lady like of you.”

“I could, if you just say the magic word—Oh, wait.” You stopped yourself for a second as you pretend to think for a moment before you decided to give him another jab after what he did. “I forgot. Mommy wasn’t around long enough teach you manners.”

Dean wasn’t the least bit amused from the dead mother jokes as he grunted a not so nice word underneath his breath. You retorted back not even a second later. Sam, however, found himself starting at the two of you with the utmost confusion from the sudden behavior that seemed like the polar opposite from what he was seeing not too long ago. Both of you stared at one another with looks, and if they were deadly enough to kill someone, you and his brother would be dead on the ground in the matter of seconds. He found himself deliberating if he wanted to break the tense silence to ask what was going on here. But before he could get to the bottom of this very small problem, compared to what you were dealing with right now, Cas had arrived back after his journey somewhere. The three of you looked down at the table to see the angel had placed down what appeared to be a wooden stick with a sharpened edge.

“The whore can be killed with that.” Cas explained to all of you. Dean picked it up to examine it out of curiosity. “It’s a stake made from a cypress tree in Babylon.”

“Great.” Dean said, thinking the worst of this was over. “Let’s ventilate her.”

“It’s not that easy.” The angel said, giving you a bit of bad news. He fetched a clean glass from the counter top and filled it with a glass of water to take a drink. “The whore can only be killed by a true servant of Heaven. Not you, Dean. Or me. Especially not Sam. And Y/N, of course, is an abomination. We’ll have to find someone else.”

“That’s a new one, I’ll give you that.” You said, kicking your feet off the table so you could now sit normally. You and the boys went silent for a moment, trying to figure out who could do the fun job of murdering a whore. It had to be someone who was a servant of Heaven, someone who spoke and devoted their life to the practice of spreading the gospel. “Could a pastor do it?”

+ + +

Knowing there was someone in town who could do the dirty deed of killing a whore helped give you some confidence that not all was lost for this town. But it would be precious timing to get David on your side. All of you couldn't go up to him with the accusation that his daughter wasn't a prophet, but more, the whore of Babylon with her sole purpose to turn these townspeople against one another and send the rest to hell. It might clash with the promise of paradise. So all of you waited around until it was the right time. Night had fallen and Cas quietly spent the time tracking down the pastor until he found the perfect moment to confront the man. You and the boys waiting around for a little while, keeping yourselves occupied with random activities until the angel arrived back in your motel room with a special passenger, who looked confused as to how he managed to go from the outside street to your motel room.

“What the hell was that?” David questioned the angel with a very confused tone.

“Yeah, he wasn’t lying about the angel thing.” Dean said, knowing exactly what was must have going through his mind after Cas gave him the speal about being an angel of the Lord. “Have a seat, padre. We got to have a chat.”

You told the pastor everything; from how Leah wasn't a prophet, the things she were saying and her promises were just empty lures to get this town to do exactly what she wanted. The reason why Paul was killed was because he didn't abide by her rules. She made Jane believe if she killed the evil around her, it would help bring her closer to paradise and she could see her son again. Soon this town would be a bloodbath and everyone would be turning on one another. David listened to everything you said, but in the end, his answer was no. He didn't want to believe his little girl was a monster, a whore for that matter.

"I'm sorry, but she's not." Dean told the man. "She's the thing that killed your daughter."

“That’s impossible.” David said, trying to deny the truth.

“But it’s true. And deep down, you know it.” Sam said. The pastor rubbed a hand with his face as he looked down at the piece of wood with a bit of a panicked expression. He knew there was something wrong with his daughter, from the way she was manipulating people and pointing out sinners. Telling his friends that the only way to get rid of them was to commit murder. “Look, we get it—it’s too much. But if you don’t do this, she’s going to kill a lot of people and damn the rest to Hell.”

“It’s just….” David spoke up, but he found himself growing quiet for a moment when Dean grabbed the stake up from the table and letting it linger in his gaze, as if the oldest Winchester wanted him to grab it. But he refused. “Why does it have to be me?”

“You’re a servant of Heaven.” Cas told the man.

“And you’re an angel.” David tried to argue with him.

Cas looked at the man with a straight face, “A poor example of one.”

+ + +

Pastor David had agreed to your plan after he had come to terms that this town was being turned inside out, and the woman that he had called his daughter, was not that. But the idea of murdering someone that looked like Leah was giving him a bit of cold feet. You had to realize David was still human, and with his religious beliefs, it was going to be a heavy burden that he would carry around for the rest of his life. But you had a feeling the good he was about to do would outweigh the evil he would bring down by killing a whore. And if that didn't do the trick, he could always go to confession and pray to a God that wasn't listening anymore. The boys were back in the motel room getting David cleared on the plan as you headed out to the Impala to make sure all of you had everything you might need to take on Leah and her posse of demons.

You slammed the trunk shut after doubling checking once more and looked around the parking lot out of curiosity. It was empty, all except for a lonely angel who start on a bench with a nasty headache after his bender that he was probably regretting right about now. You looked inside the Impala to see the pill bottle you kept after downing a few from your shoulder injury. Grabbing the bottle, you warned the angel as you tossed it to him, and without fail, he got it.

“How many should I take?” He asked as he tried to read the instructions.

“You? I suggest you down the whole bottle. Best medical advice I can give.” You said, shrugging your shoulders when the angel thanked you. You knew he probably didn’t want to talk about it, but you decided to ease the conversation, and letting him know that he wasn’t alone. “I’ve been there. I know a thing or two about deadbeat dads from John. Hell, I'm an expert on parents who screw things up and leave you with the mess. Can’t talk to ‘em. Can’t ask them for help...I know that a little too well."

Silence fell between the both of you for a moment as you crossed your arms over your chest. You observed Cas from the corner of your eye to see that he was thought his own thought, as if he hadn't been doing that enough. When the both of you made eye contact, you gave him a smile, as if letting him know your offer was still on the table. Instead, the angel asked you a question. "How do you and the Winchesters do it?"

“I would say alcohol, but you clearly can’t handle yours.” You tried to crack a joke, but neither one of you made the attempt at cracking a smile. You found yourself pondering on the question. You weren’t handling anything well from your actions over the few weeks between the fighting and reckless behavior. But, like always, you bottled up your emotions and fears, deciding to instead live in the moment before it caught all up to you when you were alone. “On a good day you get to kill a whore.”

+ + +

The promises of paradise would be those who had a soul that was pure, and would be willing to track down the sinners who deserved to die. Most of the town was completely empty and taking cover in the basement level of the church as Leah had her followers roundup whoever thought the angels thought were good enough for their after party. You just needed to get her alone for a chance of survival. Much as the boys protested the idea, you decided to throw yourself as the bait. All it took was some sweet talk before you got her cornered and have David shove the stake in her chest where it belonged. You found her with her followers getting ready with their guns and holy water, getting ready to fight a war that would never come. It took only a little bit of acting for Leah to become convinced that you had wanted to talk to her alone, about the little conversation you had before.

“I’ve been thinking about the conversation we had yesterday.” You started off the conversation as Leah lead you to a small office you lead her into that wasn't too far away from the room with all her followers. She shut the door behind you, giving you a bit of privacy as you let out a deep breath. She gave you a curious expression, wondering what you were doing here. You only needed to get her here, and then the plan would be placed into action. "And I think you're right."

“About choosing a side you’re willing to fight for, Y/N?” Leah wondered. You nodded your head, and with that response, her lips stretched into a smile at what she thought was about to be accomplished with you. “You're going to make Father very proud. You've saved yourself in paradise for doing this.”

“I have just one question. Isn't it a sin to pretend you're a prophet when you're not? Because the father you've been preaching about hasn't been ours, sister. I guess that makes you nothing but a whore. Right?” You presumed. Leah’s face fell from the term that you had called her, not only did she realized you had found out who she was, but you used the term on her that she didn't quite get used to. “And don't worry about little old me. I saved myself a comfy spot in sweet paradise. It doesn't matter which team I'm rooting for. Because you see, there's a new player in town. And I’m gonna make sure things go my way.”

Before Leah could make her grand escape, you tried grabbing her arm to pin her in place when David came into view with the stake. But the whore seemed to have proved herself superior. You could feel yourself being flung across the room and to a corner where you felt a wall cushion your fall. But Cas was here to save the day. He grabbed her and tried to pin her in place to give the pastor a better view. Leah tried her hardest to plead her way out of this. But he knew the truth.

“Daddy!” She pleaded with him. “Don't hurt me!”

“Gedion, now!” Sam ordered.

David went for the move, but Leah had a few tricks up her sleeve. Chanting what sounded to be an echonican spell underneath her breath, Cas groaned in pain at what she done to him and fell to the floor, and just as the boys went in for her, she only needed to wave her arm before the Winchesters and David were thrown to the floor, giving her a chance to make a run for it. You spotted the stake on the ground. Before you could think it over, your instincts came in, you snatched it from the ground and began racing after her, despite the voices calling your name. You were playing for both sides, there had to be a way this would work.

You chased after Leah until she headed back to the basement where she would be safe with all of her followers to help keep her safe. “Help!” She cried out like a damsel she was pretending to be. “She's a demon!”

Well, she wasn't lying about that. You tried to get your way at her, but before you could, you felt Rob tackle you to the ground, making you lose your grip with the stake. If he wanted a fight, you would give him one. You swung your arm up and punched him hard enough to make the man tumble off of you, and before he could make another move when he got up, you quickly kicked him in the head before he got the chance to try and pull a move. You managed to push yourself to your feet and saw Leah was about to give the instructions to burn this place down the ground, with added storage in the closet. Before someone could light the fuse, Sam took Jane down. Which only left Leah, wherever she was.

You quickly looked over your shoulder to see Dean had tried to get the stake, but before he could, was knocked down to the floor. You made one more last attempt, before you could even reach it, you felt a sharp pain hit the back of your head after Leah made sure you were very far away when she threw you across the room without lifting a finger. It didn't mean Dean was going to stop himself from trying one last time, Leah found it amusing.

“Please. Like you're a servant of Heaven.” Leah said in a mocking tone as he bent down to straddle the man. She got up and close in his face to make him feel inferior. “This is why my team’s gonna win. You’re the great vessel? You’re pathetic, self-hating, and faithless. It’s the end of the world. And you’re just gonna sit back and watch it happen.”

Dean didn't listen to what she said. He swung up an arm and punched her when she was least expecting the move, giving him the advantage of grabbing the stake and shoving it into her chest. He gave her a smirk, pushing it even deeper to prove his point. “Don't be so sure, whore.”

The oldest Winchester moved the body off of him and got out of the way before the effects started to take place. You watched as Leah’s body began to shake violently as the stake caught fire. You quickly shielded your face when it suddenly exploded, leaving a gaping hole in her wound. You slowly lowered your arm to see she was dead. A sigh of relief had fell from your mouth to a know this was done, but it only brought confusion from everyone who had witnessed the scene.

“But…I don’t understand.” Jane whispered, her voice broke the silent air that fell between all of you. “How are we supposed to get to paradise now?”

“I’m sorry.” You apologized to her as you slowly got yourself up from the ground, wincing slightly at the pain starting to settle from your head down to your back. “Pretty sure you’re headed in a different direction.”

You looked at Leah's body for a second or two, knowing part of her plan had worked, a few people were going straight down to the pit after committing the crimes they did. There was no freeing themselves from the deadly sin of murder. But that was their own problem. You had a wounded angel and a beat up pastor on your hands. Each brother helped them outside as you busted through the emergency exit you spotted that lead you directly to the parking lot. You lead the small crowd as you quickly opened up the backseat door for the boys. Even with your distance just a few feet ahead of them, Sam saw what happened back there, and he wanted some answers for the thing that his brother could do.

“Dean, how did you do that?” Sam asked as he got David up to the top of the staircase and following behind the older man. Dean, however, pretended to be not sure what he meant by that. “Kill her.”

“Long run of luck held out, I guess.” Dean said, putting the blame for a weak excuse.

“Last I checked, she could only be ganked by a servant of Heaven.” Sam noted.

“Well, what do you want me to tell you?” Dean wondered. “I saw a shot. I went for it.”

You stepped out of the way for the boys to shove Cas and David into the back, giving you little room to squeeze. But it would have to do for now. You were about to get yourself into the side with Cas, but you found yourself stopping, wondering if your biggest fear was about to come true. You stopped the oldest Winchester from getting into the driver's side from the question that you asked him out of the blue.

“Are you gonna do something stupid?” You asked him. Dean looked at you with a confused expression, not sure what you meant by that. “Like Michael stupid.”

“Come on, Y/N.” Dean said. “Give me a break.”

You rolled your eyes and got yourself into the backseat of the car without another word and slammed the door shut behind you. There was no way he could have done it without having just a thought about saying yes. Which meant you had no choice left. You had go through with your plan.

Rewrite Taglist:

@deansquirreljerkwinchester@lotsofspnshitposts@everything-i-tried-was-taken@starswirlblitz @albot-e@supernaturalismydrug @we-are-band-sexuals@angiewinchestercas@kaylinfayezink@owhatshername1@kgbrenner@princessofhorrors@cleo-is-my-doggy​ @eeyore1988 (Message me if you would like to be added!)

[shirtlesssammy]

All Along the Watchtower: Just Stab Me with an Angel Blade Recap

Then:

Just as Cas has faith in the nephilim, we have faith this season was worth it. Carry on….

Now:

Our beautiful, blue-eyed angelic wavelength of celestial intent stares wondrously at Chuck’s mighty creation. It’s a sight to behold, and the mountains aren’t bad either. (I’ll be here all night!)

He turns from nature’s great view and heads towards a little run-down house, where Kelly Kline is inside struggling with her latest Ikea purchase, a new bed for her angelbaby. Cas finds her and reminds her that he said he’d put it together. “I’m very good at following instructions.” Lolz. Kelly is having pre-baby -Oh, right, this thing is going to kill me- jitters.  Cas reassures her that he will do whatever it takes to raise this baby.

Meanwhile, at Casa Bunker, Dean, Sam, and Mary are all reeling from the fact that Lucifer walks the Earth. They thought they almost had it all, but then got renewed for season 13. They blame Crowley (justly) for this current mess, but Crowley is dead. Dean will believe that cockroach is dead when he sees the body (crying small tears in the corner). Cue Night of the Living Dead hand and our favorite King of Hell emerging from his grave! Our strong predictions that Crowley smoked out to the nearby rat was spot-on. 

RAGE ALERT

JFC, show. Like will you ever fucking learn how to kill your women correctly (or maybe stop)? Boris is firmly in the camp that Rowena is not dead….or at least is 10 steps ahead of the game. Because this was a load of bullshit how she died. Rowena (and Ruthie!) deserved better than an off-screen death. Tl;dr: Lucifer killed Rowena, burned her to a crisp, and kept a lock of her hair. The boys call her and get Luci on the line instead. Sammy, I’m sorry you had to talk to that monster.

Cas and Kelly are back from a Target run. Cas, after learning that Everybody Poops, bought the store out of diapers. 

Classic dialog Alert:

Kelly:I’m just saying, the checkout guy looked at us like we were super weird.

Cas:You get used to it.

CAS!

Kelly then has a mini-contraction and while Cas helps her back to the house, she brushes the side of the truck leaving some babygrace behind.

At the bunker, Dean points out that they can’t kill or imprison Lucifer. Sam suggests finding Cas and Kelly, and keep them on the move before the baby is born. Mary wonders how they track Cas and Kelly. Sam exposits that anytime a nephilim is born, things get weird.

Cut to Cas heading to his backyard, and a glowing crack in space and time. He reaches out to touch it (WHY CAS WHY?), and gets sucked into an alternate world, where the sky flashes red, the wind blows grey dust, and the world is a barren wasteland of impaled bodies on spikes and ominous distant mountains. 

Cas is almost taken out by a horned demon, before he’s rescued by a familiar face.

Kelly records a video for her unborn child. More contractions!

At the bunker, research is slow. Sam makes it clear that “whatever this thing is going to be, it’s going to be big and bad.” In pops Crowley! “You rang? Hello boys.”

POW! Dean pops Crowley, knocking him out of his chair. Dean wants to kill him for letting Luci go, but Sam interjects. He might know the cage spell. It’s then then they not so ceremoniously break the bad news to Crowley that his dead mum is not dead. It’s here that Crowley admits some -only people who are going to die soon- truths. “I wanted to win. I perverted Mother’s spell, put Lucifer in a vessel of my own making because I wanted to win.” He was tired of others vying for his throne. One problem though: He hates it. He’ll always bet on the Winchesters though, and wants to make a deal: He’ll seal the gates of Hell, provided he stays Earth-side.

You know Kelly’s in serious contraction mode when she calls out for Cas using “Castiel.”

Sam locates a house in the Pacific Northwest rented out to one “James Novak”. Ah, I see Cas didn’t stick with his super smooth aliases then. The Winchesters are on the trail!

Meanwhile, Doula Castiel is coaching his expectant patient through the still very far apart pressure waves. (Ngl, I’m here for all the doula Cas AU fics. I need something fluffy this summer, damnit!) He took the class online, guys! 

Kelly asks Cas again when the nephilim showed him. He saw a world without pain or hunger or want (kind of like the world Amara wanted? Hmm.) It is a world without fear or suffering or hate. He saw paradise.

The throaty rumble of the Impala sounds outside and Castiel rushes downstairs to greet Dean, Sam, and Mary. (Boris notes: Cas only greets Dean.) “Is this place warded?” Dean demands. It’s gotta be strong enough to hold off Lucifer.

Dean’s pissed and promises to work out their issues later (sobs). Cas warns them that Kelly can’t be moved; she’s having the baby RIGHT NOW DUDES. Mary rushes off to check on her, for she is also a member of the childbirth sucks club.

They run through their options. Cas likely can’t channel the child’s powers to toast Lucifer. Dean grumbles at his bum knee and Cas rolls his eyes, stretches out his hand, and heals him.

There’s a crackling yellow flare to Dean’s healing cut that is so minute��but I fervently believe it will factor into Castiel’s resurrection in Season 13. Nephilim power, baby! I have faith, my friends, and I am like THIS close to writing the Gospel of Cas this summer, you have no idea.

The Winchesters and Cas head outside and spot the “tear in space and time” - so named and identified thanks to The Doctor Castiel. “Like Narnia?” Dean asks. No, Dean. (You can’t stop me from picturing Dean and Mr. Tumnus having tea.) The nephilim’s power, Cas explains, punctured the fabric of the universe. Cas leads them through the tear to Dark!Verse. He identifies it as a horrific reality where Earth is in the latter years of a grinding apocalypse - demons and angels fighting each other and humanity all but extinguished. Sam’s curious how Cas figured out all of the fine print out and Cas says, mysteriously, “a friend told me.”

Castiel assures them that the nephilim will close the gap when he is born. “I have faith,” he tells them. (Me: rubs hands at Castiel’s even more firmly entrenched faith once that nephilim gets him resurrected amirite?)

“Well then you’re a dumbass,” Dean says, like a dumbass.

The Mysterious Figure approaches and whips off his scarf. It’s Darkverse!Bobby! While I wish it’d been a long dead female character, it is nice to see Jim Beaver again. (Boris interjects: Jim Beaver has been in every season of Supernatural. I’m glad we get to see him again!)

Bobby doesn’t know Dean and Sam because those two crazy kids were never born in that reality - and therefore never stopped the apocalypse. Bobby mentions hearing the Winchester name from a dead hunter he knew, Mary Campbell, who often went on about her dead lover when drunk. (If Mary hadn’t made the deal, you guys, we’d be looking at DEATH SPIKES. I’d like to personally shake Andrew Dabb’s hand for this move. Mary, may you learn to accept your mistakes and move on.)

Back at the house Kelly’s getting close to giving birth. She mourns her impending death but excuses it by saying she would die for her son. Kelly, I’m so glad you developed some agency at the end, even though you’re toast. Mary and Kelly bond over martyrdom and motherhood, which is definitely healthy and normal.

Back in Dark!verse, Bobby boasts that he “usually guns down flyboys on sight” with his angel blade bullets. Dean’s eyes light up at a new toy only to have Cas throw him the most exasperated OH MY GOD DEAN look. Oh Cas, we’ll take care of you. (By lassoing writers and forcing them to resurrect you and give you a cat.)

TFW blasts through the tear again only to be confronted by Crowley, who has managed to wriggle out of the (rather feeble) demon blade trap. He offers to help.

Up at the house, childbirth is shitty. Cas knocks at the door and asks to speak to Kelly alone. He reassures Kelly, reminding her of his paradise vision (which I’m really not sure whether I can believe or if he’s just lying to her to ease her through death). 

“Cas has faith in this kid,” Dean notes to Sam but as for himself, “I have faith in us. You, me, mom, Cas, and Crowley…sometimes.” They walk outside to face Lucifer.

“Chuck will stop you,” Sam says. (Oh, honey, no he won’t.)

“Every time I look at this sad trash fire of a world, you know what I keep thinking?” Lucifer asks. “I could do so much better.” (<– Me: breathlessly parallels this to Cas’s “sad, doomed little world” speech and how Cas is SO GOOD and also the nephilim’s inevitable journey towards embracing free will)

The rumble starts, Cas gets knocked aside immediately, and Sam and Dean run off. The Winchesters lead Lucifer to the universe tear and Lucifer happily follows them through. Lucifer gets cornered by Sam and Dean, who levels Darkverse!Bobby’s angel killing machine gun at him. “Say hello to my little friend,” Dean actually, literally says.

It…doesn’t work. But it does hold him off for a while so Sam and Crowley can work the spell to lock Lucifer in the Mad Max wasteland. While Dean is getting the snot beaten out of him, Crowley heads off to grab a life sacrifice to heal the rift. Specifically, Crowley is going to use his own life to seal the rift. 

And…Crowley sparks out with a final, “Bye, boys.” Dean and Sam hesitate at the portal when Cas bursts through and runs after Lucifer with his angel blade drawn. Oh, Castiel, you didn’t get the memo? (bites nails)

Back at the house, Kelly screams and then begins to glow as the nephilim, aka “baby cannon” as someone hilariously termed it, is born.

Dean and Sam emerge back into their own universe and the tear begins to close as Castiel, on the other side, knifes Lucifer in the gut.

Cas burst through the portal. WHEW just in time, right? Only…

^^^ Fandom right now ^^^

Fucking Lucifer knifes Cas in the back (in the same way Billie was killed by Cas earlier in the season…More disconcerting parallels).

I mean, this hurts so bad that I had to stop this recap. Just. CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAS!

Cas falls to the ground. Solidly.

“Points for trying, super impressed,” Lucifer says. Mary approaches, slips on two sets of Enochian warded brass knuckles, and cracks Lucifer in the face. 

Mary. Fucking. Winchester everyone.

She punches Lucifer to the tear and then pushes him through it, pulled in by him at the last minute. The tear heals. Mary is trapped in Dark!Verse with Lucifer. (Reminding everyone that a whole legion of angels is about to descend on that area. An injured Lucifer scampers off and Mary is ushered to safety by Bobby. Right? Right. We’ll do a reality-jumping spell next season to go save her.)

“No no no no no,” says Dean, one hand held up to where his mother disappeared and the other towards the ground at the prone body of Castiel. No no no no no is right, Dean.

Sam looks at Castiel then back at the flickering lights of the house. Sam runs inside to the nephilim, leaving Dean to kneel at the side of his best friend (and the love of his life). Dean looks up to Heaven where I SWEAR TO GOD he is going to pray to Chuck for the first time ever and my heart is going to break again. (As positive as I am at Castiel’s resurrection this scene actually makes me a little nauseous.)

Sam heads inside and finds Kelly dead on the bed. He hears a noise from the other room and finds, in the baby’s room near the apple tree mural, a young man huddled in the corner. His eyes glow golden in the gloom.

*Flails*

And for those following along, I’d like to close with these cherry-picked lines from T.S. Eliot’s “Little Gidding”

We die with the dying:

See, they depart, and we go with them.

We are born with the dead:

See, they return, and bring us with them.

What we call the beginning is often the end

And to make an end is to make a beginning.

The end is where we start from.

Quotes from Bizarro World:

If you ask me if I have the quarter inch allen wrench one more time I am going to come down there and burn your giant Viking junk yard of a store to the ground.

I’m very good at following instructions.

Everybody poops.

This is what you do when I’m not here? Type?

Can you flame on again?

It’s a bizarro world.

Supernatural wasn’t real. And you were Polish.

Wait, angel killing bullets? Awesome.

You big, beautiful, lumbering piles of flannel.

[the-raven-sisters]

Chapter Six

Title: Love, Peace, and Rock & Roll

Theme Songs: This Is Gospel by Panic! At the Disco / Sign of the Times by Harry Styles

Word Count: 4,386

Warnings: language, angst, brief fight scene

Characters: (OC) Harper Raven, (OC) Maisie Raven, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Crowley, Lucifer

A/N: this is our rendition of how Rock Never Dies (ep. 7 of season 12) occurs with the girls! So if you were wondering what season of supernatural this all starts in, it's season 12 :) by the way, Piper is at the Safehouse with the dogs, chilling in this part if you’re wondering lol -M&H

Read Ch. 5 and previous mini-chapters here and here!

Chapter List | Extra Content | Character Roster

Harper’s truck rolls to a stop in front of a luxurious hotel in Los Angeles, causing her to throw Maisie a questioning look. “This can't be it… Are you sure this is the address Cas sent you?” Maisie shrugs, hopping out of the truck, as Harper throws it into park before following suit.

“One of the boys must’ve sold their soul to the devil to stay in this place,” Maisie comments under her breath.

Harper shoots her an unimpressed look. “Really?”

They walk toward the front doors and find Cas, waiting on the sidewalk for their arrival. The girls’ faces light up at the sight of him, despite the grim situation that has brought them together. “Cas!” Maisie calls happily. Turning toward the sound of her voice, Cas nods at them in greeting.

“What’s with the fancy hotel? Who’s staying here?” Harper asks instead of giving him a ‘hello.’

“Lucifer,” Cas responds in a matter-of-fact tone; Harper raises her eyebrow, but says nothing. “The Winchesters are waiting inside for my return. Crowley, too, unfortunately,” he adds with a look of displeasure.

“Have you found him yet?” Maisie asks.

Cas shakes his head. “He’s at an exclusive concert. My contact didn’t come through. I do not think anyone else retrieved the information we need, either.”

Harper lets out a sigh before gesturing for Cas to lead the way inside the hotel. Cas saunters into the lobby with Maisie and Harper close behind. “Cas,” Sam sounds surprised. “Maisie? Harper? What are you doing here?”

“Here to help,” Harper responds simply, earning a frown from Sam.

Cas makes it to the empty chair near Crowley, but gestures for Maisie to take a seat. Smiling, Maisie puts her hand on his arm for a brief moment as she walks around him to the chair. “Thank you,” Maisie says as she sits, and Cas stands nearby her. Watching Cas and Maisie, Dean attempts to keep a straight face despite the turmoil of emotions, stirring inside him at the ease of their exchange.

Harper takes a seat in between Crowley and Sam on the couch. “So, you must be Crowley,” she prompts, glancing over at him. Sam stares at Harper, as if he couldn’t believe she is sitting next to him.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart.” Crowley’s remark rolls easily off his tongue. Feeling slightly uncomfortable by the nickname, Harper glances over to Sam, but chooses to ignore his unhappy expression.

Dean takes the moment of silence as an opportunity. “So, anything, Cas?”

“No.” Cas lets out a gruff sigh as he speaks.

“So, we couldn’t flip a single member of Vince’s team. Even with the threat of mass murder, these SoCal douchebags wouldn’t do the right thing.” Dean’s comment reveals his frustration despite the straight face he struggles to keep.

“Welcome to Los Angeles,” Crowley quips sarcastically.

“So, what’s next then?” Maisie asks, glancing around the room at all the defeated faces, and only earning a shrug from Harper.

“We’ll figure it out.” She looks at Sam with a half smile, trying to cheer him, but to no avail.

“Why did you come?” He asks, irritation clear in his tone.

“Because Cas called, and you need us,” she responds defensively. Sam and Dean both glance at Cas, who nods with his usual serious expression.

“You shouldn’t have come.” Sam crosses his arms over his chest.

“Seriously?” Harper scoffs, turning her body toward him, their knees bumping. “Lucifer is killing people, you’re trying to stop him, and you want me to sit on the fucking sidelines?” Dean glances over at Maisie, thinking something along the same lines. Feeling Dean’s eyes on her, Maisie glances his way and raises an eyebrow at him, as if asking whether he’ll try to fight her on this. Dean shrugs, knowing he’d never with that fight.

“Yeah, I do. It’s a suicide mission.” Sam counters, anger starting to seep into his tone.

“We have a better chance of surviving if we all fight.” Harper clenches her fists in her lap, trying not to let her anger control her tongue.

“There’s also a greater chance for one of us to die.” Sam angles his body more toward Harper, placing his arm around the back of the couch behind her shoulders. “I don’t want you or Maisie on this hunt.”

“Don’t bring me into your lovers’ quarrel,” Maisie interjects. Cas and Dean share a look, unsure what to do or how to react to the situation, while Crowley looks amused.

“Why do you suddenly not want me here?” Harper redirects, keeping Maisie out like she requested. Besides, this is between her and Sam. He looks away from her, refusing to respond.

“Hey guys,” Cas interrupts, gesturing to his phone. “Tommy texted me the venue.”

“Let’s go, then.” Harper jumps up from the couch, heading toward the door. Everyone else follows suit, rising from their seats.

“I’m going with you,” Sam says, promptly following after Harper, who is already halfway out the door. “Slow down, Harp.”

“Keep up,” Harper shoots over her shoulder without a glance. Crowley claps his hands together, practically relishing in the discord in the air.

“This is going to be fun,” Crowley grins devilishly at the others, before hastening after Sam and Harper. “I’m coming with!”

Maisie shakes her head as Dean breaks out into a smile. “That will be an interesting car ride,” Dean comments, laughter lacing his tone, but when he looks at his group and thinks the exact same thing, the amusement fades away. The three of them walk outside into the cool, nighttime air, and hop into the Impala. Cas opens the passenger seat for Maisie, before sliding into the backseat.

As Dean’s music plays through the speakers, Maisie’s inability to sing doesn’t keep her from serenading Cas loudly with a carefree grin on her face. When she sings to him, missing practically every note of the strong rock ballad all about a burning love, Dean’s jaw clenches, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. Neither Maisie nor Cas notice as they merely enjoy the drive and the music floating through the car. Cas even joins in for the last chorus. On the other hand, Dean couldn’t wait to get out of the car; he would rather fight the devil himself than third-wheel in his Baby.

Meanwhile, Crowley sits in the backseat of Harper’s truck, happily being the odd one out as he basks in Sam and Harper’s argument. “So?” Harper asks sharply after a minute of silence. “Why don’t you want me here?” Her grip on the steering wheel tightens as she follows Dean’s Impala down the Los Angeles streets.

Sam glances back at Crowley, silently conveying his discomfort at revealing information in his presence, but as he looks back at Harper, quietly seething with a death-grip on the wheel, he realizes he would rather talk about this in front of Crowley than deal with Harper’s wrath. Letting out a sigh, Sam decides to actively ignore the demon in the backseat, pretending like it’s only himself and Harper.

“I’m worried,” he starts.

Harper’s stern expression soften slightly, and her grip loosens. “About what? Me?” Sam nods.

“You’ve been having a hard time lately. I mean, you lost your friend recently and had a panic attack while on the phone with me about a week ago. I’m just… worried about you.” Sam’s tone is gentle and disarming, melting Harper’s anger away slowly.

“I’m fine,” she insists softly. “But what does this have to do with this case?” Harper adds quickly before Sam can refute her statement.

“My point is, I was worried about you before this case, and when you got here, I guess you surprised me. I don’t want this Lucifer problem to become another thing for you to deal with. You have enough on your plate, Harp.” Sam stares at her, deciphering her reaction.

She frowns slightly, but her gaze stays on the road. “I can handle this.”

“I know,” Sam says, a small smile on his lips. “You’re a smart, badass hunter, so of course, you can.” At the compliment, Harper can’t help the smile that blooms on her face. “But appease some of my worry by sticking near me when the fighting breaks out?”

Harper nods, smiling. “Anything for you, Sam.” She glances at him, momentarily making eye contact and noting the look on his face. He wants to reach out to give her a reassuring touch, and he almost does.

“Wow,” Crowley disrupts the moment. “The sexual tension is unbearable. Let’s pull over, and the three of us can hop into the bed of the truck, hmm?”

Suddenly, the truck jerks; the surprise from the comment causes Harper to accidentally jump on the brake. “What the fuck. Sorry,” she bumbles; the awkwardness of the situation finally occurs to her. Sam looks as uncomfortable as her before he shoots a ‘shut the hell up’ glare at Crowley. Thankfully, they don’t have time to revel in their embarrassment as both the Impala and the truck comes to a stop in front of their destination. Piling out of the vehicles, the two groups assemble on the sidewalk a block away from the concert venue.

“So, how was your drive?” Dean asks with a smug smile on his face. Cas steps away from the group as he pulls out his phone to call one of Ladyheart’s bandmates, Tommy, their inside man.

Sam clears his throat. “It was, uh, fine. Harper and I are good now.” Although, Harper still appears uncomfortable. Dean raises an eyebrow, and Maisie gives her sister a questioning glance.

“Yes, they had a riveting heart-to-heart,” Crowley says, trying to push the conversation along. “I had a nice view from the backseat.”

“Sorry about arguing in front of you guys.” Harper finally manages to speak despite her embarrassment, deciding to steer the conversation away from the car ride.

Cas turns back to the group, hanging up his phone. “Tommy’s still not answering.”

“He got us here. That’s all that matters.” Dean pulls out handcuffs and closes the truck of the Impala.

“Enochian handcuffs? That’s your move?” Crowley comments, a tinge of disbelief in his voice.

“They held me,” Cas defends, as he tries calling Tommy once again. Harper and Maisie share a look, both wondering what the story was behind that.

“You’re not him,” Crowley counters.

“Yeah, well we have no sure bets here, okay? Anything we use will be like popping BBs.” Dean admits, his tone strong and commanding.

Sam shifts on his feet, bumping his arm into Harper, and mutters, “See? Suicide mission.”

Harper gently nudges him back. “We’ll be fine,” she tries to reassure him, although her words fall short.

“Oh, great pep talk. Go team,” Crowley adds flatly.

“Guys, we’re here to do more than just take a shot on Lucifer,” Sam reminds them.

“We are?” Crowley raises his eyebrows at him.

“Yes, we have to save the people inside, too.” Sam gives Crowley a subtle look.

Maisie looks around their circle, a ragtag team composed of hunters, an angel, and a demon. “And we will save them,” Maisie adds, a confidence in her voice that bolsters each member.

“I’ll take Lucifer. He’s my responsibility.” Cas glances around to his friends.

“No, he’s not.” Sam’s tone conveys a sense of frustration. “He’s all of our responsibility.”

“Well, the only way we can clear that crowd without drawing fire is if he’s otherwise engaged.” Cas proposes his idea as if it’s their only hope.

“Engaged in what, Cas? Killing you?” Dean’s anger rises to the surface briefly.

“You can’t go alone, Cas,” Maisie adds, going for a more gentle approach. Dean glances at Maisie and then Cas, attempting to decipher where she’s going with this.

“Yeah, you’ll last three minutes, tops.” Sam doesn’t add any reassurance to the idea, causing Harper to give him a look, as if trying to imply he shouldn’t be so harsh.

“Then I’ll give you three minutes,” Cas replies, unwavering; Sam and Dean look exasperated by Cas’ stubborn behavior.

After a second of silence, Crowley adds to everyone’s surprise, “Make it four... What? I help.” With nothing left to add, Sam and Dean start walking away from the cars to the doors of the concert venue. Maisie and Harper share a look before following behind.

“You have fun in the Impala with Dean and Cas?” Harper asks, keeping in stride with her sister, who nods enthusiastically.

“Yup, Dean has good taste in music.” Maisie smiles. “What about you? Sam and Crowley, huh?”

Harper groans and throws her head back for a second. “Remind me to tell you about it later. You will not fucking believe what Crowley said to us.” She shakes her head.

“Us?” Maisie grins, and Harper rolls her eyes, electing to ignore her comment as they stride into the packed concert hall. Harper stays close to Sam, pushing their way through the crowd, while Maisie follows behind Dean.

Sam and Dean make eye contact from across the room, signaling the start of their plan as the music starts up. “Does anyone smell smoke?” Dean tries to say over the roar of the crowd. Maisie lifts an eyebrow in disbelief, directing it at Dean.

On the other side of the room, Sam nudges Harper, prompting her to get ready to pull the fire alarm while he keeps an eye on the security guard. “Are you sure this is gonna work?” She asks, but continues along with the plan.

“No, seriously. I think I smell smoke, everyone,” Dean insists, drawing the attention of a random, entitled, white man.

“Sure you’re not having a stroke?”

“Hey, I’m serious. We need to get out of here,” Dean responds, over the sound of Maisie’s unhelpful laughter, and puts a hand on his arm. The man pushes his arm away.

“Step off, dad.”

Maisie’s laughter subsides, her smile replaced by an unimpressed look that would make Harper proud. Stepping around Dean, she stares the man down. “If he’s a fucking dad, then you’re the creepy ass uncle no one likes.”

“What, you’re not man enough to handle this so you set your bitch on me?” The man scoffs.

Jaw clenched, Dean forcefully grabs the man by the collar of his shirt. “Call her a bitch. One. More. Time.” Before a fight can break out between the two, Maisie and the security guard pull Dean away from the man, and Harper makes her move on the fire alarm. The alarm rings out only long enough to drag the security guard’s attention away from the situation with Dean, before Lucifer shuts it off with a twirl of his finger; the music amps up even louder this time, drowning out the hunter’s attempt at evacuation.

At Sam’s side once again, Harper keeps a straight face at the outcome. “Don’t tell me you told me so,” Sam says, glancing at her.

A smug smile turns up the corner of Harper’s mouth. “I don’t have to.”

Lucifer struts out on stage and grabs the microphone, calling out, “Hello, L.A.! What a crowd. Look at those fresh, new faces. Everyone excited?” The crowd cheers at his words as the hunters reconvene together in the middle of the room. “Yeah, you should be. Tonight’s not gonna be a typical show. Tonight you’re gonna see and feel things you never saw or felt before. Things might get a bit... messy.”

“Ah, screw it,” Dean mumbles before pulling out his gun and shooting it into the air. “He’s got a gun!” He yells out through the momentary silence that followed the gunshot. The hunters start filing everyone out of the room, but Lucifer tries to use his powers to shut the double doors, causing Sam, Harper, and Maisie to hold them open. Everyone but the four hunters manage to get out before the doors shut.

“Hey, assbutt,” Cas says, and swings a guitar at Lucifer’s face, causing him to fall against the drums on stage. Cas is about to swing the instrument again, but Lucifer delivers a swift kick, sending Cas backward. Dean doesn’t waste this opportunity to handcuff the deteriorating archangel, before Lucifer throws Dean from the stage. Sam comes to his brother’s aid, followed by the Raven sisters.

“Enjoy the show?” Lucifer asks as he stares down at them. “Guys, you know I could end you all with a snap of my fingers?” Cas is back on his feet with his angel’s blade at the ready as Lucifer continues, “But why would I do that when you can’t do anything…” Lucifer throws his hand up, his power sending Cas to his knees. “...To me?”

“Why are you doing this?” Dean demands, taking a step forward to stay in front of the others.

“You and God made up. You forgave him! What would he think?” Sam argues.

“I’m not especially interested in his opinion. Dear old dad, he finally apologized for abandoning me, and… What’s the very next thing he does?!” Lucifer shouts, anger and hurt written over his features. “He ditches me,” he says, quieter. “And you, too, by the way. And rides off into the sunset with Auntie Amara,” he adds, dramatically gesturing with his hands as he speaks. “He needed my help, and he’d say anything to get it. His words, your words, they mean nothing.” Lucifer pauses. Glances are shared between the hunters as they are all absorbed by the devil’s words.

“Oh my god, will he just shut the fuck up already?” Harper mumbles to Maisie, sharing an exasperated look with her. Sam throws Harper a look, and she clamps her mouth shut, realizing the boys probably want to hear every word.

“Don’t you get it? This is all meaningless. Heaven, hell, this world… if it ever meant anything, that moment has passed. Nothing down here, but a bunch of hopeless, distraction addicts, so filled with emptiness, so desperate to fill up the void; they don’t mind being served another stale rerun of a rerun of a rerun.” As Lucifer speaks, the state of his vessel continues to decompose. “Do you want to know what my plan is? I don’t have one! I’m just going to keep smashing Daddy’s already broken toys and make you watch!” He points to the Winchesters, and the girls glance at one another, trying to understand the situation with their limited knowledge of the Winchesters’ past dealing with the devil.

“Yeah? ‘Cause it kind of looks like you’re falling apart,” Sam quips, finally interrupting Lucifer’s never ending monologue.

“Yeah, you got a little something right there,” Dean says, pointing above his own eyebrow. “I mean, face it, rock is dead.”

“What can I say?” Lucifer’s vessel deteriorates more rapidly now. “Kicking your asses took a lot out of me. But don’t worry. Onward and upward,” he adds, before his essence leaves the decomposing vessel, blinding the hunters with the bright light.

“Well, he's got style?” Maisie lightly attempts to lift the mood as they all recover their sight. “Speaking of style, nice move with the guitar, Cas,” Maisie adds, with a single finger gun in Cas’ direction. Nonetheless, her comments are only met with a tired shake of the head or a pointed, unimpressed stare.

After reuniting with Crowley, the group makes their way back outside toward the Impala and truck. Dean throws the equipment they carried with them, back in Baby’s trunk, before turning back to the group and taking his spot in between Maisie and Harper. “How you feelin’?” he asks Cas, who is standing on the other side of Maisie.

“I’m not dead,” Cas replies, earning a weak smile and thumbs up from Maisie.

Dean looks over to Crowley, thanking him. “Well, I gotta hand it to ya, you said you would draw Lucifer’s fire and you drew some serious fire.”

“Oh, it was a grand success,” Crowley mumbles through his swollen face, sharing a look with Dean before the debriefing continues.

“Well, we didn’t catch Lucifer, but we did save the crowd. So I’m gonna call that a win.”

“I wouldn’t,” Sam counters. “Vince Vincente is dead.”

Harper glances over at him, then to Maisie, wondering where he’s going with this; Maisie shrugs as if she could hear Harper’s internal questions. Dean, on the other hand, looks surprised by his comment.

“We never even hoped to save him. And yes, I know, the third album…” Dean starts to amend, but Sam interrupts.

“No, he was still a person. He meant something to a lot of people. Lucifer just took all that and twisted all that up and snuffed it out. Lucifer was bad enough when he had a plan, a motive. Now he’s just having fun. I mean, how many people died tonight? Them, this, it’s all on us,” Sam argues in a disappointed, sad tone. “We let him out. We’re not winning. We’re just losing slow,” Sam scoffs. “And you heard what he said.”

“Onward and upward,” Crowley reminds everyone. “He’s gone big.”

“And he’ll go bigger,” Cas adds, discouraging the group further.

“And we’ll stop him.” Dean retorts, a note of finality in his voice. “We will. It’s what we do.” He glances around the circle, making brief eye contact with everyone.

Sam turns away, glancing at the police cars and ambulance parked outside the concert venue; Harper watches him, trying to find the right words, as the others form their own conversations. She glances back at the group, checking to see if they’re distracted, before she slips her hand into Sam’s to give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“At least, we made it out okay,” Harper points out, although it comes out awkwardly. Usually, she’s not the one to try to be optimistic about any given situation.

Sam gives her a weak smile, acknowledging her attempt. “Yeah… I’m glad you’re okay.” He squeezes her hand back, finding comfort in her touch.

“Glad you’re okay, too.” Harper smiles, even though her heart isn’t in it as the outcome of the night keeps reeling in her head. She releases his hand and crosses her arms over her chest, turning to face him. “But what's with the clothes? You and Dean making fun of me for my all black aesthetic? Which I rock, by the way.”

Sam grins, glancing down at his black leather jacket and dark-wash jeans. “Yeah, we can't rock it like you can, but we were trying to fit in for the case.”

Harper rolls her eyes, but can't help the smile that his compliment causes.

With Cas and Crowley already long gone, Maisie leaves the last sweep of the motel rooms to Sam and Harper, and heads to the far side of the parking lot where she spotted Dean, beer in hand, taking in the view of the California valley.

“Sure you should leave the kids to themselves? We might never get out of here,” Dean quips; though his stiff shoulders betray his tone. He doesn’t even bother to look as Maisie approaches and leans on the railing next to him.

“Dean, for what it’s worth, I think you’re right. This was a win. I mean, in this life, we’ve got to take them whenever we can. We did our job, we saved all those people, even that one jackass,” Maisie coaxes the tension from Dean’s demeanor, putting a hand on his forearm, and he finally faces her.

“Don’t remind me of that jackass.” Maisie rolls her eyes at Dean’s exaggeratedly sour expression as she pulls her hand away.

“You weren’t actually gonna punch him, were you? We had a plan, but you looked like you wanted to take it a little too far... I don’t need my ‘honor defended,’ you know.” Maisie gives Dean a keen look; he scoffs, but looks away, rubbing at the back of his neck nervously.

“Maybe I was defending my own honor,” Dean counters with a smirk, yet a vulnerable look struggles to stay hidden in his eyes.

“Okay, princess, just say the word, and I’ll go fetch my unicorn to hunt the bastard down,” Maisie teases back conspiratorially.

“I’m gonna have to pass on that nickname, sweetheart,” Dean laughs.

“Geez, you are so picky! What am I supposed to call you then?” Maisie mocks annoyance, while Dean looks thoughtful. Suddenly, a smirk slowly creeps across his face, and he takes half a step closer.

“You could call me yours.” Maisie’s lips part slightly, the mock annoyance disappearing and an elated light dancing in her eyes. Maisie takes her own half step forward, looking down at the small space left between them, before dragging her eyes back up to meet his.

“Only if it’s mutual,” she says softly. Dean’s eyes can’t help but stray to Maisie’s lips, finding himself unable to move his own.

“Enjoying the view?” Maisie breathes. He can feel her breath fan across his face, warm like a match, striking something inside of Dean. The flames drives any doubts from Dean’s thoughts; he threads his fingers through Maisie’s hair and pulls her flush to him. Their lips meld together in a perfect instant. A spark. A strike of lightning. Then, like a candle snuffed out, Dean is suddenly pushing away from Maisie.

“God, no, we can't do this.” Dean turns away, not wanting to look her in the eye.

“I- uh, I'm sorry…?” Confusion laces Maisie’s query.

“I think I just need to get out of the picture.” Dean concedes, as if he didn’t hear her bewilderment, with his words directed at the ground. Maisie’s confusion changes into dejection at his response.

“But, Dean-!” She tries to argue, but Dean cuts her off.

“It's okay, I want you to be happy,” he says lowly, his face softening as his eyes flick to hers for a moment.

“Then stay,” Maisie utters barely above a whisper. Dean’s eyes are suddenly unclear, a light misting taking over, but he quickly looks away once again.  

“No.”

Maisie tries to reach out to him, but with a clench of his jaw and a shake of his head, he walks away. Maisie quickly retracts her outstretched hand to cover her mouth, not wanting any sound to escape along with the few stray tears streaking down her face. Maisie turns toward the view of the valley below, not wanting to watch Dean walk away from her and her breaking heart.

[eisforeidolon]

Episode: The Memory Remains

Well, that was somewhat better.  Last week’s episode left a bit of a lingering odor, but this one had a reasonably solid plot and quite a few enjoyable moments. 

Naturally after the monster intro we start off with the obligatory ongoing arc plot mention, both Sam doing a bunch of research on Dagon and Dean still trying to call Cas and being pissed their most reliable backup has gone AWOL.  Of course Dean is worried - considering the number of times Cas has completely fucked over the world when he's been incommunicado off on his own, who wouldn't worry?  

The case of the week was decent enough. The sheriff with his weird taxidermy and conviction that one person a year every year taking off was totally just normal was a pretty good suspicious mislead, especially with how obvious it was that the “monster” in the woods in the intro was a guy with a fake goat head and a hammer.  Creepy murder family seemed given from the start, so there being a half-brother and an actual monster god with claws was a decent enough twist.  I even liked that it was so nicely hinted about the monster being a God of Sacrifice with the town and factory being in noticeable decline since the disappearances stopped.  I mean, there were a few moments that felt completely predictable, like the guy finding his buddy in the freezer with him, but not in a bad way so much as a this-is-the-way-a-horror-plot naturally goes way.  I’ll take a predictable plot that is competently executed for the most part over a “surprising” nonsensical mess every time.

There were some good moments and good lines - and I did love that we finally got an episode that actually focused more on the Winchesters instead of five other things all at once, none of which are all that interesting.  Of course Sam knows all Dean's lame pickup lines, and of course Dean would steal Sam's food and then complain about what it was.  Dean's helpful vocal demonstration of “goat” and Sam's repeat of Dean's earlier line about the Colt killing anything at the end were great (though bringing the Colt back to go on random hunts is such a current-writers-stupid move because it’s too powerful).  Dean and that waitress both clearly knowing what they wanted and having a good time, Dean's face when the weirdo step-brother parrots that so-close line to the tagline from the earlier seasons, the faces Sam and Dean make when they get Ketch on the phone instead of Mick.  Sam’s line about just how many demon books they have.  Ketch’s line about Sam’s hair and Dean’s ratty flannels that is both a little funny and a good indication he still doesn’t take them seriously enough.

On the other hand, I was not impressed with Dean's nonsensical order for Sam to stay in the basement with ALL THE LOCKS on the door so he could get knocked out.  Nor Dean attempting to go after a god with a crowbar and getting it stuck in one of the big hunks of meat instead of staying in one defensible and unobstructed area.  Like, sometimes the brothers are going to get in trouble, and I'd rather it be one of them doing the saving than some random VotW - but you don't actually have to actually make the savee incompetent to set that up!  And this season has been kind of egregious about Sam getting a large proportion of the onscreen kills while Dean randomly disappears for spans of time, which is something that gets irksome when it skews far enough in either direction to be noticeable.  They're both awesome and competent, and the show should generally reflect that unless there's some kind of larger story being told.  I’d be surprised if any such thing materialized here.  

The James Bond wannabe BMOL stuff we also got here that the writers still seem to be getting off on didn’t do much for me, either.  One, Sam and Dean, after Toni broke in at the beginning of the season, Ketch showed up a while back, and Mick let himself in just last episode and said the keys were universal?  If they don't actually have some kind of monitor or something to let them know when someone's been in the bunker by this point it’s just insanely stupid and sloppy.  I hope they were just playing dumb, but with these writers...  Two, if the BMOL need to use a giant honking obvious as fuck bug for reasons (maybe to get through the bunker walls/shielding), why not use one that can be placed in the lamps or other fixtures or somewhere that's not wicked conspicuous and going to be revealed the second anybody looks under the table?  Sam or Dean drops a book or knocks into the bottom of the table and they're on to your dumb asses, morons.  Three, Dean had, what, like four pictures in his drawer?  Ketch gives his peons a lecture on leaving no traces and then takes something that will obviously be missed?  Fail.

Also, I get what they were going for with the talk about their legacy being in having saved people (it’s a good message and a good repeat of a through line message from the beginning) and I even liked the sappy flashback moment inter-cut with them carving their initials on the table, too.  Yet, uh, remember how pretty much all the angels and demons and most of the monsters in the world know their names?  How they've foiled every world-ending evil plot to come and go for over a decade now?  How there was a whole gospel written about them by a Prophet who was actually God?  God, who said he was proud of them and left the world in their hands?  It would have felt like a more genuine reflective moment to me if it didn't feel weirdly ignorant of how massive an impact Sam and Dean have had on the entire supernatural world.

[fallenandthefaithless]

“I Wrote Myself Into It”: Authorial Intent and Writers in Supernatural

So I've seen a few posts floating around discussing how Mr Ketch's talk with Mary resembles Metatron in 9x18 and it was while trying to put my own thoughts about this together that I was struck by another thought. Throughout the series we've had several characters be storytellers and author stand-ins for the showrunners. It was while listing all of these characters that a theme became clear to me. All of these characters are telling us stories but as an audience we are either ignored or quietened. Until now.

This got rather long (oops)

We meet our first writer stand-in at the start of 4x18 'The Monster at the End of This Book' in the form of Chuck Shurley. It's  been discussed to death how Chuck is a stand-in for Kripke so I'm not going to go into it here.

Chuck is introduced to us reading aloud his work as he makes corrections, altering details to better suit his vision as he reads. Whilst we're being told the story we are never acknowledged – Chuck doesn't ever look into the camera the way others will in future episodes.

Chuck directly referencing/writing a story is seen again briefly in 4x22 and 5x22 when Chuck is or has already finished typing his stories "Lucifer Rising" and "Swan Song". While he never reads "Lucifer Rising" aloud to us, we do witness the characters take control of their story – a possible aside on how much the original plot outline has been changed in the series. In 5x22 we have Chuck's voice over at the start and end of the episode though, once again, we are ignored as he focuses on writing his story.

The next time we have a character talk to us is in 6x20 'The Man Who Would Be King' with Castiel looking directly at us as he says "Let me tell you my story. Let me tell you everything". This time around the audience is acknowledged by being directly looked at though we still don't have a chance to respond. We are being told a story and can only listen. God, who Cas was textually speaking to, isn't even present and doesn't respond.

We don’t have another writer stand-in until Metatron in 9x18 'Meta Fiction'. The episode opens with Metatron typing away on his typewriter in a mockery of Chuck before he looks up into the camera to address us.

What makes a story work? Is it the plot, the characters, the text? The subtext? And who gives a story meaning? Is it the author? Or you?

Not only are we acknowledged but we are even asked questions. However, this illusion of being involved doesn't last long and illusion it is as the camera reveals Cas to be tied to a chair and gagged, forced to listen to Metatron's story without being allowed to address any of the questions being raised.

Metatron typing away acts a callback to Chuck and highlights how, despite the questions being asked of Cas/the audience, the story has already been written and Metatron is currently rewriting it to suit his version better. He even burns a copy of the Winchester Gospels because though it may be his inspiration, it doesn't fit with the story he wants to tell.

In season 11 we have Chuck return after Amara has broken free of her restraints at the conclusion of season 10 and is running rampant, demanding retribution for the crimes committed against her.

Subtextually, what crimes could possibly have been committed at the end of season 10? If there was one thing that caused chaos and forced the writers to pay attention, going so far as to bring about the return of God, the original showrunners stand-in, it was the outcry at the death of Charlie Bradbury.

Throughout season 11 Amara desperately searches for God, wanting him to apologize for the wrongdoings he has committed, the wrongdoings he has been committing since the very beginning of the story – the unfair treatment of the minor characters. Going back as far as the pilot episode with the fridging of Mary Winchester, there has been a lack of justice for these characters and Charlie was the final straw. One only has to see the 2015 Supernatural Comic Con panel to see how badly it was received and how the writers coped with that fallout. But throughout season 11 we saw small changes being made; more explicitly queer characters (Jenna, Jesse, Cesar and Kat's mums), more female characters as big characters, new and returning (Jody, Donna, Alex, Claire, Amara, Billie, Rowena, Clea, Eileen, Mildred) and more characters of colour (Billie, Rufus, Clea) with decent roles. But it wasn't until the season 11 finale that they made the biggest apology. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

In arguably the best episode of the season both Chuck and Metatron return, locking themselves up in a bar to work on Chuck's latest piece of work, safe from the chaos of the outside world which is only present through the televisions in the bar. Only on screens do they see anything happening whilst the audience witnesses everything as it happens to Sam and Dean.

Metatron proceeds to call Chuck out in one of his best speeches on the show:

You know, I was a crappy, terrible god. My work was pretty much a lame, half-assed rewrite of your greatest hits. But at least I was never a coward!

Metatron acknowledges that what he wrote was copied from Chuck's work, that the stories were all running in circles.

Chuck goes on to say that he is "done watching [his] experiments failures" to which Metatron rebuts "you mean your failures". He holds Chuck responsible for the failures of his stories – Metatron, after all, does admit he himself was a "terrible writer". The least Chuck can do is admit the same.

It is after this that Chuck turns the televisions on and tells Metatron to watch.

If you ask me, they're all reruns.

The chaos of the world is a "rerun". It's all happened before. And Chuck, our original creator, walks away. Metatron, however, who has been knocked down a peg or two by "his characters", looks on in horror at what has happened to the story.

In the next episode we face the first removal of a writer. Metatron's death.

Metatron has accepted his failures and now he seeks to help fix the problems he was implicit in and ends up paying with hi life. He faces the issue head on, and while he dies, he does so after his best attempt at redeeming himself. And Chuck is now left to face his own problems in the face of Lucifer and, subtextually, Cas.

Castiel, the easiest to unpack of the two, represents himself, the underappreciated main character who has been pushed to the side too many times.

Lucifer, as a left over of Kripke's era, represents all the loose ends left over from the earlier seasons – this is clear from Lucifer's lingering presence throughout the series despite the fact he was supposed to have been dealt with in season 5. While his main storyline – the apocalypse – is over, Lucifer hasn't ever really left the show. Just like many niggling plot holes.

So Dean's "We're gonna save Cas, we're gonna ice the devil and we're gonna shank the darkness and anyone gets in our way, well God help them" highlights the three main issues of the season – Cas' underappreciated presence on the show, the loose ends from seasons past and the fandoms displeasure with how things are being done. And they're all being thrown in Chuck's face at the end of the season.

So Chuck makes up with Lucifer, promises Cas will be safe and then turns to face the big "bad". Amara. But he just wants to lock her back up. He keeps repeating his previous mistakes but this time he doesn't get away with it. This time he's almost killed. It's interesting to note too, in light of this reading, that it was Amara who banished Lucifer and saved Cas.

In the end it is Dean who convinces Amara and Chuck to talk which results in Chuck apologizing for the injustices Amara has faced at his hands and the two peacefully leave the characters to be together. After, of course, Amara resurrects Mary – the personification of the injustices in the show and how they are being visited and fixed. We're on the B-Side now.

Which brings us to season 12.

After 12x09 many people wondered if Mick was going to be Dabb's stand-in but in 12x12 it is Mr Ketch who talks to the camera. Combining these two would suggest that it is the British Men of Letters who are Dabb's stand-in, which raised another interesting point I'll get to a little bit later.

First off, Mick.

12x09 opens with Mick typing away at his typewriter which instantly brings Metatron to mind. He then looks up and gives his "Let me paint you a picture" speech, trying to sell his vision to an unimpressed Wally. A lot of people have commented on how Wally appeared to be a John stand-in in 12x12 which would paint him as a more old-fashioned hunter. Wally proceeds to mock Mick and his "soft hands" before leaving. In other words, a hunter who resembles John Winchester, aka an old fashioned hunter better suited to the earlier seasons, mocks the story being described to him by our current showrunners stand-in. The "soft hands" comment threw me for a bit until I just took it at face value – Mick's not a fighter and that shows in his unblemished hands. The show isn't about throwing yourself into the middle of a world-ending battle anymore. It's about the smaller, emotional storylines.

At the end of the episode Mick tries again and this time Mary, the character who is the opposite to John and literally symbolizes the new story, was willing to listen to what Mick (Dabb) is offering.

In 12x12 it's Mr Ketch who talks to the camera but something interested me before he even looks at us. We get a lengthy shot showing Mr Ketch organizing his cup of tea before taking a sip and then he turns his attention to the camera. Why so much time dedicated to something so insignificant? It wasn't just to bring attention to his mug which is straight out of Reservoir Dogs. Making his cup of tea and sitting back show how Mr Ketch is willing to listen before he even says "Tell me a story". He's getting comfortable before giving the camera his undivided attention. He wants to hear this story.

"Tell me a story" he says to the camera and, for the first time, we the audience, as well as the character being addressed textually, are able to respond. Unlike Cas in 9x18, Mary is free to tell her story (ironically while dressed like Cas). Ketch listens without interrupting and at the end, shows how impressed he is. Mary, however, is not appeased.

I lost a friend. I almost lost one of my boys.

Mary almost lost of her boys. We almost lost one our boys. Mary and the audience are given the chance to vent to Ketch (Dabb) about how hurt we were by their actions and Ketch, as repentant as any writer, apologizes most insincerely.

One last thing, at first I was confused as to why Dabb would choose the BMoL as his stand-in – they aren't exactly likable. As I thought this over I remembered @argumentsagainstbideansuck post on authorial intent. It highlights how Supernatural is a postmodern text and how authorial intent means zilch:

"the entirety of seasons 4 and 5 (widely considered the show's best) are ALL ABOUT THE VIRTUE OF DEFYING 'THE AUTHOR' and "throwing out the script."

(Seriously, go read all of it – you will not regret it)

With this in mind, let's turn to the BMoL.

The BMoL came crashing onto the scene in 11x23 and tried to force their views onto the American hunters insisting that their way is the best way. They didn't stop there though – they tortured Sam and attacked/threatened out other main characters. (Pretty fitting for writers)

So why would Dabb use them as his stand-in?

Because authorial intent has no place in Supernatural because it is a postmodern text. The writers can't tell us how we are supposed to read the show. Our readings are valid and the characters revolting against the BMoL support this. They certainly don't want their way to be restricted by the BMoL. And while certain characters may be listening to them for now, that certainly won't last.

So after years of being ignored or gagged, we are finally not only being given a voice but are being listened to. Instead of the writers telling us to listen to their stories, we are being invited to tell our own. And Dabb is listening.