#cas you are a human glove compartment

[shallowseeker]

Sure, Sam’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline once Dean starts losing patience and rifling through Cas’s pockets whenever Cas can’t find something.

But they practically jump off his head and shoot up to the clouds when Dean starts storing his own shit in Cas’s pockets. Receipts, spare change, gloves, pens, knives, other random weapons, pamphlets, folded-up restaurant menus, maps, knickknacks, his own fucking wallet.

[perlukafarinn]

Destiel prompt: Dean driving Cas to some pretty place so they can watch the stars together

Dean liked stargazing but it had never exactly been a planned activity for him. It was something you did when the day's drive had stretched on too long past sunset, when you had nowhere particular to be and a good spot on the side of the road to pull over.

But they didn't spend much time on the road these days, for better and for worse. Their longest drives were usually to and from Sam and Eileen's place, which took about half a day at a leisurely pace.

Their home wasn't the best place for watching the stars either, even with their wrap-around porch and the big backyard. They were too close to the nearest city, the light pollution dimming all but the brightest stars.

It didn't even occur to Dean how long it had been since he last went stargazing until one evening, as he stood out on the porch, he looked up at the sky and thought, I wonder if Cas misses the stars, too.

He'd been tempted to call Cas downstairs and head off right then and there, let the Impala bring them somewhere miles away from the orange glow of the city lights.

Instead, Dean made a plan. He picked out a place he knew would be perfect, watching the weather reports for a clear evening. When the weather was just right, he packed a cooler and some blankets and told Cas they'd be going out for the evening.

"Where are we going?" Cas asked.

"It's a surprise."

They headed out just as the sun was setting. The drive was a little over an hour and as they drove, the sky turned from brilliant hues of pinks and orange, to a deep, cool blue and finally pitch-black. Cas was quiet the whole way, staring out the passenger window as their surroundings grew darker.

Finally, Dean saw their destination up ahead. He slowed down and pulled over in a small, empty parking lot. They exited the car, Dean grabbing a flashlight from the glove compartment as they went, knowing they’d need it not to stumble over their own feet in the dark.

He got the stuff from the trunk too, handing the cooler off to Cas, who accepted it without question. Then, because no one was around to see it, Dean grabbed Cas’ free hand with his. 

(If he looked like he was blushing just from holding hands with Cas, no he wasn’t, it was just a trick of the light. Dark. Whatever.)

They headed down a small trail, cutting through a field of tall grass. The air was completely still and though the day had been hot and humid, since sundown the temperature had dropped down to comfortably warm. 

A short walk later and they reached their destination. Dean tugged at Cas’ hand to signal for him to stop and then turned off the flashlight. For a few moments, they were plunged into near total darkness but their eyes adjusted soon enough.

The moon was almost full and it alone would have given off enough light but it had plenty of company. Stretched across the night sky was a field of stars, hundreds and thousands twinkling like a living tapestry. And at their feet, a perfectly still lake mirroring the night sky, one eternity echoing into another.

“Not bad, huh?”

Cas didn’t respond. Dean looked over, ready to repeat the question, but the words died on his lips. Because Cas was staring at the sky with the most open, awestruck, devastated expression.

“You okay, Cas?”

“I’m-” Cas’ voice caught. He cleared his throat. “Is this what it’s always like? For humans?”

“Not always,” Dean said. “You gotta find the right place, the right time. But yeah, a lot of the time it’s like this.”

Cas nodded, looking like he was barely listening.

“Come on, let’s lay out the blanket and get comfortable.”

Finally, Cas tore his eyes away from the sky. He looked at Dean, then at the cooler in his hands. “Is this a picnic?”

Dean snorted. “Nah, just brought a few beers. Figured we crack them open and look at the stars and maybe you could tell me about constellations or something.”

“Oh. Like a date?”

Oh. Huh.

“I, uh, I guess so.” Dean blushed. “Since we’re... dating. In a relationship. Together.”

Cas squeezed Dean’s hand, mercifully cutting him off. “Thank you, Dean. This is very romantic.”

Dean wanted to argue - he hadn’t technically planned this as a date, could you even be romantic on accident? - but before he could, Cas leaned in and kissed him.

“Let’s lie down on the blanket,” he suggested.

Dean stared at him. In this darkness he couldn’t see the color of Cas’ eyes but they were sparkling, dark and deep like the lake by their feet, like the sky above them, like if Dean dove in, he would never resurface and he’d be glad for it.

“Okay,” he said. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

[deancasbigbang]

Title: There Are Roads Left in Both of Our Shoes

Author: sidewinder

Artist: JavocJovian

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Castiel, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester (background), Kaia Nieves/Claire Novak (background), Cesar Cuevas/Jesse Cuevas (background)

Length: 95000

Warnings: No archive warnings apply, canon-typical violence

Tags: Post-Episode AU: s15e19 Inherit the Earth Season 15/finale fix-it emotional hurt/comfort angst dreams and nightmares road trip first time Top/Bottom Versatile Cas/Dean soul bonding domestic Dean/Cas

Posting Date: October 22, 2021

Summary: When Cas suddenly appears at the bunker—out of the Empty, human, and very much alive—Dean can’t believe it. In the time since Chuck’s defeat and Jack vanishing into thin air, he’s lost all hope of ever seeing his angel again. Everything is perfect—or at least, as close as it has ever been for him. Without the fate of the universe to worry about and freed from God’s machinations, Dean can finally and openly reciprocate Cas’s love. They can begin to share the joys of this new life and be happy together in ways neither has allowed themselves in the past.  Cas is having trouble sleeping, though, nightmares clinging to him like the inky darkness of the Empty itself. Dean figures it will pass with time, and he begins to allow himself to dream and plan for a future where they can leave monsters and hunting behind for good. Only Cas’s nightmares are growing worse, not better. And Dean faces the possibility that he may lose Cas yet again to an enemy who won’t let go—not unless they can find a way to bind Cas to this Earth, this existence.  To Dean.

Excerpt: “Wait. Before you go, I have one more favor I’d like to ask. It’s a quick one,” Cas reassured her, sensing impatience. “And I have another gift if you choose to help me.” The promise of an additional shiny object gave her pause. He nodded toward his truck. “If you won’t let me give you a ride, then sit inside with me for a moment and I’ll show you.” Anael followed him, taking a seat on the passenger’s side. He opened the glove compartment and removed a small velvet pouch. From it he revealed an intricately carved turquoise scarab, as brilliant blue as the Mediterranean Sea on a clear day. “What’s this?” she asked with wide-eyed admiration. “A present to me from the Djinn queen. I’m...apparently married to her now under their law. She keeps sending me these tokens of appreciation.”  “Djinn queen? Didn’t think that was your style, Castiel. Kinky.” “Not really. It’s...complicated.” “Everything always is, with you. But this is beautiful.” “It’s yours if you’ll help me. You’re the only angel I can trust with this request.” He didn’t completely trust her, either. But they’d never tried to kill one another, which was at least something. “I know I’ve been focused on Jack’s soul today. But I was hoping...I’d like you to check if I have a soul.” She blinked at him and laughed. “I’m sorry, you want me to do what?” “When Metatron stole my grace and I became human, he mentioned that when I died, my soul would go to Heaven. Yet the last time I died, after my grace was restored, I ended up in the Empty.”  “That’s because angels don’t have souls. Simply removing our grace doesn't automatically create one in its absence.” “I realize that. But since then I’ve wondered...did he know or see something I didn’t? Maybe it’s been there long before then. It might explain why I was always prone to acting against orders I felt were wrong. The mere fact I have these...feelings that do not seem to fit what we angels are supposed to feel.”  She didn’t look convinced, but appeared intrigued enough to keep listening.  “When I didn’t have my grace, I had to sleep,” he continued. “I felt guilt and despair and love with an intensity we should not. I still do. When I have encountered soulless humans, they do and they feel none of these things.” Sam, in his post-Hell soulless state, as well as the prophet Donatello came to mind. Jack, and his changing behavior and demeanor as well. “Yes, but...soul or no soul, what difference does it make?” she asked. “It’s a painful and risky thing to check, if just to satisfy some kind of curiosity. You can’t exactly swap your soul out—if you have one—for Jack’s, either.” “I know that,” Cas told her. “But for other reasons, it might be of some use to me later on to know.” 

DCBB 2021 Posting Schedule

[castielcommunism]

bestie i am having the most crap day and desperately need first date fic spare another excerpt?? 😳

ok ONE more. the full scene is much longer but here is a little bit of smooching

It’s stupid that you’re not allowed to just sit in the drive-in field after the movie’s done, Dean complains at length. It’s not like anyone’s gonna be using it. He supposes they have to clean the place up the same way you would a movie theatre, and it’s probably also an insurance thing. Whatever, still dumb.

Finding a secluded spot to park in Kansas isn’t exactly difficult, though, and only after a few minutes of driving does Dean find a nice patch of dirt to pull into. It’s around a spot of sparse brush and trees, a line that cuts into the empty fields surrounding it and running along the side of the road. Between the dirt patch and the road is a wild tangle of weeds and bushes, providing a decent sound buffer from any traffic and giving them some measure of privacy. It’s both the perfect place to make out with someone and to become the gory preamble to a horror movie.

Dean puts Baby in park and takes a breath, leaning back against the seat. He can hear the sounds of the car settling, small pings and clinks under the hood, accompanying the soft sigh of the engine as it stills. Cas is sitting next to him on the bench, at once too close and too far away, watching him intently.

“This is kinda dumb,” Dean begins, and tries to swallow down the nervous laugh that won’t unstick itself from his throat. “Um.”

“What is?” Cas is smiling, mouth set in a permanent twitch. It eases him some, to know Cas is jittery about this too. He never smiles like this.

Dean clears his throat again, and the words come out easier this time. “Roll down your window before you get out. Meet me by the hood.”

Cas’ brow furrows. “Okay.”

“Just trust me.”

He watches Cas crank the passenger window down, and there really isn’t any part of him that Dean can stare at that won’t make him sweat under the collar. The coat he’s wearing hides a lot, but Dean’s gotten pretty good over the years at interpolating the line of his back underneath the modesty of three layers of clothing. It’s different, too, now that Cas is human. His body is more… settled. Full of itself. It needs upkeep, so his hair goes awry, and he sweats, and his clothes aren’t just-so. More to the point, he can’t fly away when the conversation gets boring or heated. He’s stuck in place whether he likes it or not.

Very healthy thoughts to have.

Cas gets out then, and Dean takes a deep breath. Focus.

Steeling himself, he reaches over to pop the glove box. Cassette tapes and cell phones and some spare ammo rattle around at the movement, and Dean pulls out a handful of tapes to shuffle through them. The labels flash by one after the other. The King Himself - Stuck in F-ing Traffic - The Compromise - he smiles at that one, almost picks it, but keeps going - Mix for Mom - Annoys Sam -

“Bingo,” Dean mutters, shoving the other ones back into the glove compartment as he pulls the cassette out of its protective plastic casing. A rare vintage, one he only breaks out on very special occasions. The paper label curls a little at the edges, and the faded black sharpie reads Gettin’ Lucky.

He shoves it into the deck, waits a beat, and grins when The Rain Song starts playing. Dean adjusts the volume a little, rolls down his own window, then pushes out of the car, watching his breath puff out in front of him and feeling like he’s missed a step at the bottom of a staircase.

Cas is standing patiently by the hood, hidden in the blind spot between the headlights. Dean reaches back into the cab to shut those off, plunging them into darkness that’s undercut only by the streetlights nearby, and wills himself to get a grip. He walks over to join Cas, and the dirt is soft and silky underfoot, dampening the sound of his boots.

The tape deck is just loud enough to be heard while standing by the front of the Impala, but it’s still easy enough to talk. Not that Dean’s planning on doing a lot of talking. He wipes his hands on his jeans.

“Okay,” he says confidently, even though he’s got no clue what he’s doing. Part of him almost wishes this was another meaningless hookup, that any mistakes or dumb shit that comes out of his mouth wouldn’t matter that much because he’d never see this person again. He desperately wants to shut his brain off, exhausted by his own mania, but this more than anything is the important part of the night, and he can’t fuck this up.

“Dean?” Cas is looking at him with some mixture of amusement and anticipation, unsure of what’s going to happen next but excited to find out. Dean could power a rocket with his mood alone.

“Yeah, um.” He laughs for no reason, or maybe because he’s got no reason, and it feels easy and freeing and good. The air’s charged with it, and Cas’ smile widens in response, so Dean steps in front of him and grabs him by the shoulders, mutters “can I—?” and when Cas nods, Dean backs him up until he’s sitting on the edge of Baby’s hood. It’s high up enough that the height difference is all but negligible, and despite the dark he can feel the intensity of Cas’ eyes on him.

“Okay,” he says again, hands lingering on Cas’ shoulders. In between each too-loud heartbeat, he can hear over the radio, you are the sunlight of my growing, so little warmth I’ve felt before, it isn’t hard to feel me glowing—and he says, “I have this—thing, y’know. Ritual, or whatever. Not ritual,” he shakes his head. “I don’t—I don’t do this a lot. Whatever. It’s dumb, but—”

“It probably isn’t,” Cas says softly. He’s warm beneath his jacket, the heat of his body soaking into Dean’s hands. It feels like providence.

“Yeah,” Dean croaks. He’s gotta get this over with quick, because he’s running out of steam, but he has to explain himself first. His thumbs rub circles into the rough fabric of Cas’ jacket. “Anyway, uh—well, so, I had this whole thing planned out. For tonight. I wanted this to be special, not like—” He grasped for the right words. “Not like a casual thing, you know? I didn’t wanna make out with you in some motel parking lot or the bathroom of a bar.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Cas murmurs, and Dean can just see his smile in the peripheral light from the road. The words unknot something in his stomach.

“Yeah, me either, but—we can do that later,” he says quickly, and a thrill goes through him at the admission that this isn’t a one-time thing, that there’s a later to speak of, and he can’t think about that for too long. “And I figured—the coolest thing is like, making out with a chick on top of your car. You’re not a chick, though,” he hurries to add.

“No,” Cas agrees, amused.

“Right.” The cool April air’s got nothing on the heat burning in his face. “You get what I mean. I didn’t… I just didn’t want it to be lame.”

Cas laughs, and Dean can feel the rumble of it from his hands still bracketing his shoulders. “I don’t think you’re lame, Dean.”

“Good.” He lets out a breath that feels a bit explosive. “Okay.”

Surprising them both, he still doesn’t move. His eyes fix on some point over Cas’ shoulder, vaguely in the direction of the windshield. Zepp is still playing dutifully out of the speakers, accompanied by the improvisational skills of a truly impressive amount of crickets in the nearby brush, officiating something he’s barely allowed himself to even think about. It’s all perfect—locale, time of night, car, ambience, music, weather—and it’s not enough. How could it be?

“Dean.” Cas settles his hands on his hips. The touch is hesitant at first, then firm when Dean leans into it.

“Sorry, I’m—” He’s not going to fuck this up, and it’s physically impossible for the nerve endings in his hands to burst from his skin. He’s still not moving.

“May I?”

“Huh?” His eyes flick back to Cas. He sounds way too fucking calm about this. “Uh, sure?”

Cas stands up, eliminating nearly any amount of distance between them, and instead of getting this over with and kissing Dean like he’d been expecting, Cas reverses their positions until Dean’s ass is touching the still-warm metal of Baby’s hood and Cas is broad and imposing in front of him.

He’s looking up at Cas now, which is so much more ideal now that he thinks about it. Dean’s hands are not so much holding onto his shoulders as they are clinging to them like pieces of driftwood. Christ, he’s shaking, and there’s no way to hide it from Cas.

“I may have also given this some consideration,” Cas says dryly. “How I would first kiss you.”

His jitters are interrupted by a shiver that sends heat coiling low in his belly. The difference between kissing Cas and being kissed by Cas is a couple of words and a world of possibility. The latter had always sounded too much like a prayer in his head, too near to the truth.

But, well, Cas isn’t an angel anymore. No one’s around to hear his prayers. And it’s hard to remember the last time he felt like this.

His brain finally registers Cas’ words beyond the obvious. “You thought about kissing me on top of my car?”

“You have an erotic preoccupation with it,” Cas informs him, and for some reason he’s now just realising that he’s talking to a guy who’s known him for roughly a decade. “It’s the site of some significance in your life, as well as mine. I thought it would be the best place, though usually I imagined it in the front seat.” He glances over Dean’s shoulder to stare at the front windshield longingly, and Dean files that away for later.

“I think you’re calling me a girl, but I can’t tell.”

Cas laughs again. When has he ever laughed this much? “I promise you I’m not.”

He leans into Cas, into the hands he still has on his hips, struck dumb by the casual admission that Cas has thought about this before, and more than once.

“Okay. Yeah.” Dean clears his throat, squares his shoulders. Cas isn’t a firing squad, and he’s not going to die. The worst that’ll happen is that it won’t be that great. “Good call. Doing it like this, I mean, I’m—” He shakes his head, face heating. “Yeah. I’m good. Okay.”

He feels Cas touch his cheek. The brush of his fingers is featherlight, tentative and reverent and impassioned all at once. Dean’s eyes flutter closed for a brief moment as he leans into the slow trail of his fingers, careful not to entirely give the burden of holding his head up to Cas’ hand. But he would do it, he thinks. He would hold it for me.

Dean opens his eyes and watches Cas look at him in the dim glow, an incomprehensible expression on his face. He’s out of practice with meeting Cas’ eyes like this; staring for staring’s sake. After all the years of insisting that even looking is too dangerous, this now is new again.

Cas’ thumb sweeps his bottom lip, his eyes flicking down to track the movement. The streetlight nearby offers an uneven halo that catches at the edges of Cas’ hair, and then Dean can’t see anything at all because Cas is kissing him.

“Dean,” he murmurs into his mouth, and kisses him again. Dean’s hands slide from his shoulders to his waist, pulling him in close, parting his legs so Cas can stand right in front of him. Their thighs brush together, their chests pressing close. Cas is apparently really good at pretending to be calm, because his heart’s hammering the fuck away beneath his ribs, and when he whispers Dean’s name again it sounds desperate and choked.

His skin is rough with stubble, rasping against Dean’s own, and his lips are pulled a little too taut over his teeth, caught between smiling and kissing and breathing into Dean’s mouth. It’s not a bad kiss, not at all, but it’s clumsy, the kind he was used to expecting the last time he pulled this trick on someone in senior year.

Cas is eager, though, and Dean’s starting to realise the hidden benefits of being with someone so inexperienced. A hand goes to the small of Cas’ back, pressing their hips flush together, and smiles at the answering groan.

“Dean,” he says again, like he can’t help it, the broad span of his palm catching along the edge of Dean’s jaw.

“That’s it,” he whispers, kissing him back, and touches the side of Cas’ mouth with his thumb. “Loosen up a bit.”

There’s a brief, unpleasant moment where their teeth click together, but Cas is a quick study, pulling back a little, plushing his own mouth out. He’s strung right out, which is part of the problem, every line of his body taut with nerves, and Dean realises that Cas is trembling, too.

“Relax, Cas.” He shifts on the hood, shuffling closer, until he hears the buckle of their belts click against one another.

“I can’t,” he whispers, sounding strangled, and Dean smiles and pulls back, out of breath.

He puts a palm to his chest, not to push him away, but he’s starting to get concerned about how fast Cas’ heart is beating.

“Dean—” He leans into him, forehead pressing into his, breath warm on his face. The hand he still has along Dean’s neck and jaw burns like a brand, and when Dean rests his palm over the nape of Cas’ neck, the curling edges of his hair are slightly damp with sweat.

“How was that?” Dean asks, lightheaded. His mouth is tingling.

“I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to do this,” Cas tells him instead of answering. His thumb runs along Dean’s cheek, against the grain so his stubble pulls at Cas’ skin. “Please let me kiss you again.”

[antiredemptionarc]

Lots of folks have these t-swift, hozier, daughter, and angel with a shotgun by the cab destiel playlists and these are valid and I love them, yes!

 it makes sense that Cas would vibe with newer stuff because he’s constantly being introduced to human things and yea if he ever heard Angel with a Shotgun he would immediately slip into a state of yearning. And yea canonically Dean is swiftie coded, but what ya gotta understand is that Dean is also a 41 yr old man who loves loves loves LOVES rock n’roll.

when Dean is all alone and he reaches in the glove compartment of the impala and pulls out the personal mixtape he keeps hiding in different places so Sam will never find it and he puts it in the tape deck and presses play, THEE destiel dean-loving-cas song that blasts through the speakers can only be Holy Water by Bad Company and when it gets to the part where it’s like “never had a girl in my life ‘til I met you” he sings over “girl” with “angel” loudly and off key. 

[mysteryartisticwriter]

Body Stealing Black-Eyed Bitch (2) // Jack Kline/Belphegor X Reader

A/N: This is part two so make sure you go read the first one in order for this one to make much more sense lol. This one is actually a lot longer than the first one because me being stupid didn’t equal it out.

TAKES PLACE DURING 15x01 (SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED IT YET)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN BTW

Requested: Kinda...people wanted this second part but I was gonna make it anyway

Warnings: Blood, some forms of gore, some angst, and some heavy makeout session

PART 1

Not my gifs!! (Please tell me if you, the owner, would like me to take the gif down!)

-

The guys ran to the doors to check the outside while you stayed back and stared down the demon. He noticed you looking at him and smiled.

“What? No thank you?”

You scoffed. “As if I’ll ever thank you.”

You and Belphegor followed the older men to the outside. You exited the tomb and saw that the sky was still an eerie dark black, but the several dead walking bodies had collapsed on the ground, lifeless once more.

“Hey, it worked! High five!” Belphegor cheered, lifting his hand for high five that one paid any attention to.

“The spirits have been destroyed.” Castiel said, looking around the graveyard.

“No, I actually just blasted them out of those bodies.” Belphegor walked past the four of you.

“So where are the ghosts, then?” Dean asked.

Belphegor didn’t really give a proper answer and you all just sighed then headed toward the chevy impala. As always, Dean was driving and Sam was in shotgun. You, Castiel and Belphegor sat in the back, much to yours and Cas’ distaste. It was a bit worse for you since you were trapped in the middle of the two, meaning you were closer to the demon.

The five of you drove down the dark road as Sam checked online if there was anything on the news. Belphegor was checking out his vessel in the car’s mirrors.

“I mean, come on. I look good.” He said while fumbling with his glasses.

“Don’t get used to it.” You barked, your arms crossed and face blank.

“I’m gonna have to, sweetheart.”

“Anything?” Dean asked his brother, changing the subject.

Sam glanced at Dean with a strange look. “No, not yet. I mean, the news, they didn't...it just... I'm not seeing anything about a worldwide zombie apocalypse.”

“So... Ghostpocalypse. Maybe it's just happening here.” Dean suggested.

But Belphegor shrugged from the backseat next to you.

“Eh, for now. I mean the souls gotta go somewhere, right?”

“Yeah, how many are we talking about, by the way? Souls?” Sam asked, turning his body to face Belphegor.

“In hell?”

“Yes.”

“Two...three billion.” The demon shrugged nonchalantly.

Your eyes widened while Sam and Dean shared a dour face. They knew lots of souls escaped from Hell but not that many.

“Alright. Let's just stick to the plan, alright? We head back to the bunker, figure out how to close the rift.” Dean said.

Belphegor sucked in a breath. “If you can.”

You glared your eyes to him.

“Yeah well, you got a better idea?” You snapped.

“I do not. But if you wanted to buy some time, you could always contain the ghosts.” He told you.

“Contain them how?” Asked Sam.

“Magic.” He answered, as if it was obvious.

“And you just happen to know the right spell?” Cas pointed out.

“Lucky you.” Belphegor said, smirking at you.

You just rolled your eyes and sank back into your seat.

“What do you mean by "contain"?”

“Imagine a salt circle a mile wide. No ghosts get in, no ghosts get out.”

“No,” Castiel interjected. “That town, Harlan, Kansas is less than a mile from the cemetery.”

“Then we get everyone out.” Dean deadpanned.

“How?”

“We lie.”

-

It was already light once you guys arrived back in the town. Sam left the car to speak to the sheriff about the town’s evacuation, you, Dean, Cas and Belphegor were left in the car.

“We can handle the evac, so why don't you grab Crowley Jr. here whatever he needs for his spell?” Dean told you and Cas.

“No.”

“I’m not doing that.” You both protested at the same time.

“What?” Dean confusingly asked.

Castiel looked anywhere but Belphegor. “Dean, I can't. I-I...I can't even look at him.”

A terrible silence went through the car before Cas finally just sighed and left the car. Dean just turned back into his seat and pulled out his extra pistol, opening the glove compartment and shoving it in there out of plain sight. Belphegor took notice and looked over the seat to see what he hid.

“Uh, what’s that?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, cool.”

Dean looked at you in his rearview mirror and sighed.

“(Y/n), I’m gonna need you to help...Belphegor find his supplies and seal up the town. Once you finish the spell, come find us, okay?”

“I am not dealing with him...I can’t. This demon is inhabiting Jack’s-” You stopped. “He’s using his body, Dean.” You confessed to the eldest Winchester brother.

“Sorry, but I’m not asking, Singer.” Dean scolded you, using your last name.

Whenever he used it, you knew he meant business. No one ever called you by your adoptive father’s last name but the Winchesters and that only happened in times where you really pissed them off. You just scoffed and scooted farther away from the demon next to you.

Being near Belphegor kept reminding you that the love of your life was gone forever. Every memory, good and bad, about Jack replayed in your mind. From when you first found him, to teaching him to control his powers or even when he ran away. Your heart and mind ached, ached for your love back.

You noticed that Dean and Belphegor stepped out of the car so you followed on your side. Dean gave you strict instructions about the demon (mainly on making sure he didn’t go rogue and kill you) and then left you alone with him.

As you walked down the street, Belphegor walked next to you and watched several people who walked past you two. He eyed their appearances then whispered to you.

“So, people are, like, crazy good-looking now, eh?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in a mix of irration and confusion. “What?”

“I mean, the last time I was on Earth, when I was human. Ah, it was a while ago. I mean, but, you know, we were all worshipping this giant rock that looked like a huge penis, and...”

“Ew, dude, TMI.” You grimaced. 

“It’s true! Anyway, folks back then, they were, uh, ugly. You know? Had a lot of humps. I mean, a lot. Look at 'em now,” Belphegor stared at your body and smiled. “I mean, look at you. I mean, you're, uh, you know, beautiful.”

You halted in your tracks and a memory popped into your mind.

“You’re very pretty, (Y/n).” Jack told you.

You looked up at him in surprise. The two of you were just in the middle of searching for a case in the bunker’s library when he broke the silence with his words. Jack was just staring at you with a lovestruck gaze and you blushed heavily.

“Thank you, Jack. I think you’re very pretty, too.” You replied, trying to focus on your computer.

“No, no, I mean it.” You looked back up at him, staring into his piercing eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

A tear escaped your eye before you had a chance to wipe it away. Belphegor saw you had stopped walking so he looked to you and saw your bleak expression.

“Um... you good?” He asked, going to shake your shoulder but was stopped by you grabbing his wrist.

“Never touch me. Never call me beautiful. And don’t you ever ask me if I’m good,” You furiously wiped at the tears in your eyes. “Because I am never good.”

You could see out of the corner of your eyes that some people were starting to stare at you two. Although you were still angry, you let go of his wrist.

“Let’s just get your shit and get out of here. Wh-When are you gonna get out of that body, anyway?” You asked.

“Eh, when I find another one. I mean, I would've jumped at the cemetery, but all those meat suits were a little too, uh, you know, wormy. Difficult to blend, if you will.” Belphegor droned on.

“Yeah...sure.”

“So, uh...who was...he, anyway?”

You turned to him but continued walking. “What?”

“Well, I know he was your boyfriend and all but uh...who was this kid?” He curiously asked.

You hesitated before answering.

“His name was Jack. He was a lot of things. To the boys he was their kid. Kinda. But to me,” You swallowed. “He was important. My love, my light, my everything. And now he’s gone, with you inside his corpse.”

The demon could see the emotion in your eyes, even if you did try to keep a straight face, Belphegor could see what you were truly feelings.

“Oh. Uh...sorry.”

You shook your head and carried on.

“So, what do you need for this spell?

“You know, nothing much. Big bag of salt.”

“Easy.”

“And a...and a human heart.”

You physically groaned. You really need a break from death.

-

You exited the convenience store with a huge bag of rock salt. Turning to your left, you entered an alleyway where Belphegor was leaning against a brick wall. He noticed you coming toward him and brushed off his vessel’s clothing.

“Here’s your salt.” You said, handing him the bag.

“I’m going to call Dean about the heart. Maybe he knows a way to get one.”

You grabbed your phone from your pocket and began to search for Dean’s number in your contacts until you saw Belphegor staring at you. For a moment, he reminded you of Jack and his innocent gazes.

“Is there a problem?” You asked. He shook his head.

“No, no, it’s just...you’re very popular in hell.”

“I am?” You asked, pretty curious.

“Yeah. I mean, you may not be Winchester famous but still really well known.” The demon affirmed.

“And how exactly am I “well known” among Hell? I’ve been with the boys for almost eight years now and no demon has ever told me that I’m popular.”

“Kevin Tran, duh. He always talks about you, talks about how you were his best friend and how much he missed you- god he was so whinny.”

You stared at the demon with a blinking look, not sure if you had hear him correctly.

“K-Kevin? Kevin Tran?” You wanted him to confirm. He nodded.

“But God said- Chuck said he was going to Heaven. Kevin is supposed to be in Heaven!” You fumed, getting angrier by the second.

First that son of a bitch messed up your lives for his own entertainment, then he kills Jack, and now apparently he didn’t even send your old best friend to Heaven like he said he would! That lying bastard.

“I’m going to fucking kill that bastard of a writer.”

“Woah, woah, chill. Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to be calm! My best friend is in Hell!”

Your breathing started to pick up, your mind clouded by anger and you paced back and forth in the ally way. You didn’t even notice Belphegor come up to you and grab you by the shoulders.

Not really knowing anything else to do, Belphegor lifted your chin and smashed his lips onto yours. Your eyes widened in surprise and didn’t even have a chance to respond to the kiss. Because he was using Jack’s body, he tasted like him, felt like him and even the way he held you felt like Jack. For a moment, you forgot that it wasn’t Jack in his body, it was a demon.

After feeling you not freaking out anymore, Belphegor let you go and stared you in the eyes, you staring at your shocked reflection in his sunglasses.

“You calm now?”

You weren’t even thinking anymore. It had felt like forever since you kissed Jack, and even though your mind knew it wasn’t him, your body still craved for his touch again. Without even thinking, you forced your lips back onto his.

Belphegor responded almost immediately, kissing you with just as much passion as you did. His kisses were different, not the soft and sweet kind that your Jack and you always shared. No, this was different, what you felt was true lust and roughness.

You felt him push you up against the brick wall he was leaning against and you could feel his hips grind into yours. You moaned into the kiss, feeling Belphegor’s smirk against your lips. One of his hands found their way from your hips and almost up your shirt.

The hot and heavy kiss had only lasted for a while until Belphegor let your lips go. His stupid and cooky smirk was plastered on his face.

“Come on, we got a bunch of souls and ghosts to seal into this town, right?”

The demon walked past you and out of the alleyway, standing at the end and waiting for you. After everything that’s happened to you in the past couple of days, you managed to make a tiny smile at him.

-

Later, after calling Dean, you told him about the heart you needed for the spell and he suggested you going to morgue. You and Belphegor walked down the empty street, heading to your destination.

“So...about that heart.” He brought up the subject again.

“On it. Dean said that we could probably just head down to the morgue.”

You saw the demon shrug and scrunch up his face.

“Hmm. Fresh, it'd be... it would be better.”

You were about to answer when a man screaming in the distance caught your attention. Immediately, you ran towards the sound with Belphegor following behind you. You went down the street and around the corner to see the town’s sheriff laying on the ground, dead.

You kneeled down to the body and saw a closer look to his neck. There were deep scratches that cut deep and blood drained from his body onto the pavement.

You internally gagged, but managed to keep it down and covered your mouth with your hand. Belphegor wasn’t very affected from the dead man on the ground.

“Hmm, cool.”

You looked up to him with a weirded out face, he just shrugged as if it was nothing. Then again, he was a torturer in Hell for thousands of years.

“Fuck...”

“Yeah. Yeah, poor guy.” Belphegor said with no sympathy at all.

He leaned down toward the body and pushed his hand into the man’s chest, you backing away in disgust and shock. Belphegor pulled out a fresh, bloody heart and showed it to you.

“Well, I got a heart,” Bel smirked and held the organ out to you. “I would give it to you but-”

“I don’t care.” You deadpanned.

He raised his hands up in defense.

Suddenly, the air around you turned cold and when you exhaled, your breath turned white. You knew what this was, a ghost was near.

“We need to move. Now.” You commanded the demon until you heard a voice from behind you.

“Can you take me home?”

You turned around to see the woman in white that Sam and Dean had told you about, the first hunt they went on that started them on this journey together. She whipped her hand out and you went flying towards a nearby dumpster and some boxes.

You took a moment to breath and saw the woman walking towards Belphegor, ready to attack him. The demon backed away, still carrying the heart.

“O-Oh, hey. Look, okay?” He stammered, putting his hand out in front of him.

“Bad ghost! Bad!”

She once again swiped her hand at his lifted hand and created deep scratches into his palm. He winced at the pain and held his hurt hand close to his chest.

Just as the woman was about to pounce on him, you quickly grabbed an iron pole from the boxes and swung at the ghost with all your might. She disappeared right away but you knew she would be back.

“Bel, spell, now. Let's get the salt.”

After running back to grab the salt you had left in the alleyway, you grabbed it and poured it all into a large pile in the middle of the now deserted street. Belphegor then set the dead man’s heart in the center of the salt.

“We good?” You asked.

“We’re good.”

He stood firmly and began to chant the spell. 

“Animi...infernorum...spiritus abyssi surrecti...defigo...vos intra confinia. Vinciamni!”

As the salt and heart began to glow red, Belphegor set his hand firmly into the street in front of the ingredients. A powerful wave washed over the whole town then everything went back to being quiet once more.

-

After meeting up with the boys, along with a mom and her young daughter, you all rode back into the high school to drop off the little family. There wasn’t enough space in the backseat of the impala so you kind of just ended up sitting on top of Belphegor’s lap.

Dean stopped the car in a parking spot and him, along with his brother, turned to face the five of you in the back.

“So, what now?” The mother asked.

“Okay. You two go inside. We'll take care of the town.” Sam told them.

“And maybe don't tell anybody about the whole ghost thing.” Dean added.

“Or the angel thing.” Cas said, looking towards the girl and her mom.

“Yeah, that... that might freak them out.”

Belphegor scoffed from beneath you. “Uh, might?”

You elbowed the demon in the stomach, causing him to groan in pain. You then smiled softly towards the two.

“You’ll be okay, stay safe, alright?”

The mother and daughter left the car and you finally were able to get off of Bel’s lap. It was pretty uncomfortable for you but obviously, Belphegor had enjoyed every bit of it.

Dean drove off to the middle of the parking lot and stepped out of the car, everyone already had gotten off as well. He walked up to you standing next to Belphegor.

“Good to know that the spell worked. He cause any trouble?” Dean questioned, nodding towards the demon who just waved at him.

You looked at Bel then back to the tall man and shook your head.

“No. No, not really. Surprisingly, Bel is pretty okay for a demon. He can’t replace...”You stopped for a moment. Then you remembered the kiss in the alleyway, feeling guilty. “He didn’t cause any trouble. We’re fine.”

Dean looked suspiously between you and Belphegor but nodded and walked over to Cas. You turned over to the demon who was leaning against Baby.

“Bel, what happened in the alleyway...that can’t happen again. I-I mean, I just lost Jack and I can’t-”

Belphegor interrupted you before you could continue.

“Calm yourself, sweetheart. What happened in the alleyway can be our little secret, all right?” He raised his eyebrow in a sly manner, making you slightly giggle, something you haven’t done in a while.

“Our secret.”

You saw his left hand and remembered how the woman in white did some damage to it. You held your hand out so you could take a closer look at it.

“Let me look at your wound.”

He shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ve been through worse.”

“Don’t care. Give me your hand.” You persisted.

Belphegor sighed and lifted his hand to allow you to grab it. You looked over the three deep scratches in his palm and bit your lip in slight disgust. You dropped his hand.

“Let’s clean that up.”

You grabbed some supplies from the Winchester brothers since they were fixing up Sam’s almost infected bullet wound. Taking a piece of bandage, you cleaned up Bel’s scars then wrapped his hand.

“You really care about me, don’t you?” He teased, cockily.

You scoffed.

“You’re in Jack’s body, I don’t anything happening to yo- it. You’re still a body stealing black-eyed bitch, Bel.”

-

A/N: Oh my god, it’s like 7am and I have been up working on this since 1am. I really need food and sleep. Stay safe, loves!

Lemme know if you wanna be tagged in my Supernatural stories!

Someone messaged me and asked me if I could tag them but I completely forgot who so whoever messaged me, please do it again so I can add you!

TAGGED:

@shortwinchester​

@coltcas​

@urlaslongasafalloutboysongtitle​

[suncityblues]

Bad Luck and Sunshine

Part 1/5 - SPN - 3k words 

read on AO3

He can fit all his worldly possessions on the passenger seat of his car.

Car keys, red bic lighter, a toothbrush in a ziplock bag. Cellphone, charger, brown faux leather wallet. A maxed out credit card with the name James Ledbetter on it, and a fake ID to match the card. Fourteen American dollars, one Canadian quarter, a Blimpie’s buy-one-get-one coupon.

A pen with the name of a bank on it, a tin of salt. A paperback with a four leaf clover carefully pressed into the pages between the title and the acknowledgments, and that’s it.

Castiel taps the book in the spot where the clover is pressed. He can feel the slight bump of it.  

“They’re supposed to be good luck,” Dean had told him with a shrug when Cas asked why he was rooting around in the grass that day. Dean had handed Cas the book with the clover inside and said, “I used to search for them sometimes when I was a kid. It’s dumb but, hey, I figure we could use all the luck we can get.” Dean had smiled softly then, a bit sheepish. The tips of his ears had gone red.

Back then the world had been ending, so Cas supposed Dean was right, they could use luck.

He remembers trying to be encouraging, saying something about the placebo effect that made Dean roll his eyes and laugh at the same time. He can’t quite recall the specifics of it anymore.

A while later he had reached out to the clover with his grace and found nothing particularly special about it, but kept it and the book anyway. He reaches out again, now, with what little of his power he has left. It’s still just as lucky as any other dead plant.

He takes stock of his possessions again, focusing in particular on the fourteen American dollars and the one Canadian quarter. He checks how much gas he has left in his car and it’s not much. If he keeps going he’ll have to choose between food and gas, just to run out of it again anyway.

He needs to eat sometimes now, and drink water. He needs a shower and a bed if he can get them. Clothes, shoes, soap, toothpaste. All of it costs money, and to get money you have to trade time. Castiel has always found that a little ridiculous but it’s not like he makes the rules anymore.

He’s been pulled over in a dark parking lot in a truck stop town called Laurel for a while now thinking about what to do. Sam and Dean had set him up with the card and the fake ID before he left and Cas doesn’t want to ask them for any more help. He decides Laurel is as good a place as any other to get stuck in.

It’s 9:52 on a Tuesday.

++

A day and a half later Castiel is once again employed at a gas station. He’d tried a diner, a vegetable canning factory, a hardware store, and a rundown CVS but the gas station is the first place that got back to him. They were short staffed after someone named Ricky had walked out, and desperately needed a replacement. Kendra, the manager, had said “it’s like you were sent by an angel!” When she read through his mostly fictional work history. It had made Cas laugh.

This one is called Sunshine Gas and Go. They have to wear ugly yellow polo shirts that say “Let me know how I can help make your day sunny!” On the back. They keep the beer on the left side of the cooler bank instead of the right and the jerky next to the self-serve coffee but aside from that it’s remarkably similar to a Gas-N-Sip.

He wonders bleakly if he should have been the patron of gas stations while he had the ability.

The angel of Thursday, the angel of gas stations, that’s Cas. The guardian of the spaces you have to pass through on your way to better days, better places.

He sometimes wonders how Nora’s doing; if her kid’s okay.

++

It takes Sam and Dean five weeks to cave and check in on him. Cas has been in Laurel for the last three.

They pretend to be on their way back from a hunt, a totally routine salt and burn, and just so happen to be refueling at that particular gas station in this particular truck stop, exactly fifteen minutes after his coworker leaves Cas alone to cover the overnight shift. It’s an obvious and flimsy excuse to make sure he’s okay, but he’s known them long enough to understand that obviousness and flimsy excuses to see one another are gestures of affection in the Winchester family. He finds it somewhat exhausting to witness, and even more so to experience but he doesn’t call them out on it.  

He does, however, make pointed eye contact with Sam who waves his hands in a placating gesture behind Dean’s back and excuses himself to go stare at the overpriced air fresheners on the other side of the store. He had hoped Sam, at least, would have had the sense to text first.

On the counter next to the cash register there’s a plastic bin with a picture of a bald child in a hospital bed taped to it and some loose change inside. Dean picks the can up, looks inside it, shakes it a bit, puts it down. It’s mostly empty.

“You’d think people’d be a little more generous, what with the cancer kid at stake and all,” he says. When Cas doesn’t immediately reply Dean continues, “Or is this one of those, uh, charity scams? You know, where the evil mega corporation asks you to pretty please donate so they can use it as a tax write off?”

Castiel shrugs, he doesn’t know what the Sunshine Gas and Go does with the money. Says: “I’m not sure, Dean.”

He pretends not to see Dean stick some gum from the display under the counter into his coat pocket. He’s watched Dean do this before to other casheers, leaning close to flirt and making off with what he can. Cas supposes old habits die hard. The gum is sugar free cinnamon.

Dean sees him pretending not to see. He smiles big and bright, his nose does a little crinkle that Cas always liked. The term “shit eating grin” comes to mind, Cas must have heard it somewhere, probably about Dean that time too. He rolls his eyes and says, “How was your hunt? Were you or Sam hurt at all?” He can’t do much besides heal minor cuts and bruises these days, but for the Winchesters he’d still offer what he can.

Dean waves him off, “Fine, fine, got shoved around a bit but it’s nothing a cold compress and a good night’s sleep can’t fix.”

“Speaking of,” Dean segues in a breezyl tone Castiel knows is dangerous territory, “Where are you sleeping these days? You gotta sleep now right?”

The ghost of Rexford sits heavy between them, though it’s been years since then. Cas realizes being back at a gas station might have caught Dean off guard, or felt like some kind of dig at him. He doesn’t know how to explain that it’s just bad luck, and he’s not sure Dean would believe him if he did.

This time around he’s not squatting in the back room with the cleaning chemicals but he is sleeping in his car, just until he has enough money for a place to stay or decides to hit the road again. He knows that’s not anything Dean wants to hear.

“Yes, Dean, I need to sleep” he answers, then pauses. He considers lying but it never works out when he does, and this isn’t life or death; just embarrassing.

Besides, Sam and Dean are observant and thorough even during a glorified social visit, so Cas figures they’d put two and two together as soon as they walked in the door. There’s no way they hadn’t clocked his too-big thrift store jeans under the uniform shirt, or the circles under his eyes. The way his beard is a little patchy from shaving in the bathroom mirror in the truck stop visitor center. It’s likely they’d found his car in it’s discreet parking space at the edge of the lot before coming into the Sunshine Gas and Go.

Cas tries tactful honesty: “I’m saving up.”

And it’s true, he is, though he’s not sure what he’s saving up for. But every Friday he gets a paycheck and brings it to the check cashing place in town. After the fee, and groceries, and little necessities he carefully stores what little he has left in the locked glove compartment of his car, under the book with the clover in it.

Dean’s lips press flat together. He stops leaning over the counter and stands at his full height. He makes an aborted head shaking gesture. He speaks like there’s an awful taste in his mouth.

“So,” he says, slightly too loudly to pay it off as cool. Out of the corner of his eye Castiel sees Sam’s head wip towards them, no longer pretending he’s not eavesdropping.

“So, ah—“ Dean repeats, “you’re gonna, what? Drift around? Lay low in some podunk shit hole for the rest of your life?�� he stops, puts his hands on the counter to steady himself, or to keep from reaching over and grabbing him, Cas isn’t sure. A beat.

“You know what?” Dean says, “Nevermind.”

Cas deflates. He knows Dean disagrees with him leaving so soon after becoming human again, and feels guilty about so many things it’s hard for Cas to keep track of them all, but he knows he couldn’t stay either. Just like lying to the Winchesters, it never works out in the end. With almost no power, he’s no help to anyone, not Sam and Dean, not heaven, not even himself. It hurts to think about but maybe that’s just part of being human.

“Dean—“ he starts to say but he’s cut off.

“Don’t worry about it, man” Dean says, he taps the counter twice with his knuckles, “nice place you got here. I’m glad you’re doing alright.”

Dean swallows and abruptly turns to leave, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. Cas watches him go until Sam comes to the counter with two bottles of water, a coffee, and an energy bar.

He puts a twenty down, says apologetically, “For this stuff and whatever Dean stole on his way out.”

“Gum,” Cas supplies, and slides the twenty back towards Sam. “Don’t worry about it,” he says.

The cameras don’t work inside the store, and according to Joanna, the only reason they’re still up at all is to deter would-be armed robbers. Castiel watches less deserving people steal from them all the time, so it doesn’t seem worth it to take Sam’s money.

Sam shakes his head and gives him a flat smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He takes his things but leaves the twenty. Says, “See you around, Cas.” He pauses for a moment, and seems to debate something with himself. Then: “Check in sometimes if you can, okay? You know how Dean can be when he gets worried.”

Castiel knows. He waves to Sam as he walks off into the dark.  

Cas checks the gum display, then manually rings up the items Sam bought. He puts the change into the plastic jar with the kid in the hospital bed on it.

++

A few days later a woman comes in with a ghost behind her. Cas checks the time to keep from gaping. 11:27 AM.

The ghost is a man, perhaps in his mid forties. Too young to be dead, but Cas supposes most people feel that way when they die, no matter how old. When the woman comes to the counter and gives him thirty dollars to put on pump six he sees a wedding ring on a chain around her neck. He puts two and two together.

“That’s a lovely necklace” he says, he looks directly at the ghost when he says it. They make eye contact. The ghost does a sharp inhale for a moment and the lights flicker. The ghost disappears.

Cas frowns, “Sorry about that. It happens all the time,” he lies. He wonders if he could purify the ghost with what powers he has left, that way she wouldn’t have to burn her wedding ring.

The woman seems caught off guard, then smiles politely.

“No worries, it happens all the time at my house too. Must be a faulty power grid in this town or something, my kids swear it’s a ghost or something,” she says.

There’s an apprehensive edge to her voice then, hastily: “have a good one.”

“You too,” Cas says. He thinks about following her out, trying to explain. He thinks about texting Sam and Dean.

The slushie machine makes a mechanical crunching sound and suddenly there’s red goop all over the ground.

Joanna starts yelling and runs for the mop. He goes to unplug the machine and gets sticky pink syrup all over his last clean pair of pants. The ghost slips his mind.

++

Two days later Dean shows up by himself. It’s 6:43 in the morning on a Tuesday.

Cas has been finished with work for fifteen minutes already but there’s a rush at the end of his shift so he says on to help Javier and Kendra out. It’s mostly people stopping for gas on their way to work, or truckers picking up breakfast before heading back on the road. He doesn’t mind sticking around in the mornings, everyone’s usually too tired to be angry and it’s a nice break from the drunks and the sad eyed kids he usually meets on overnights. The extra money doesn’t hurt, either.

Cas doesn’t notice Dean until he’s placing two coffees on the counter in front of them.

His first words are a surprised, “Oh, hello Dean. Where’s Sam?” Which makes Dean huff, and shift from one foot to the other.

“Not here,” he says, then points at the coffee closest to Cas, “That one’s for you. Milk, no sugar still, right?” Cas nods. He knows this is Dean Speak for an apology. He can feel Javier and Kendra look over at them from behind the other register and the cigarette display, respectively.

Dean smiles, all charm but Cas can tell his face looks a little more drawn than usual, like he’d been driving for too long without a break, “You get off work soon?”

Kendra answers for him, “Yes, he does.” She has a maternal look on her face when Cas turns to her. Javier rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything.

“Shoo,” she says, with a smile. She points at the slogan on his uniform shirt, “Go have a sunny day, James.”

Dean nods, “Yeah, James. Have a sunny day.” There’s that smile again.

Cas closes out his register and gets his coat from the back room. Dean’s waiting for him outside, drinking his coffee and leaning against the Impala. The lighting is the soft grey-blue of the morning, and it feels nice compared to the white fluorescents of the store.

Before Cas can say anything Dean scrubs at the back of his neck, then says, “This coffee tastes like piss. Let’s get breakfast.”

++

There’re a few diners in town but Cas has never been to any of them. Dean picks one on a whim, because the sign has a 1950’s pinup girl in a skimpy waitress uniform.

It’s warm inside and smells nice, like syrup and strong coffee. Dean orders something called The Lumberjack Platter and when Cas tells the waitress, “Just coffee, thanks” Dean overrides it and orders him scrambled eggs with a side of sausage and toast.

“My treat,” Dean says. Cas shakes his head but doesn’t fight him on it.

Dean avoids talking about anything personal. Instead they mostly chat about the case Sam and Dean are currently working on. Apparently they’ve hit a wall with the research and Sam’s been holed up at the bunker for days pouring over blueprints and hacked security footage. There’s a cursed object in a locked bank vault in Little Rock that’s making people have violent outbursts. The questions are: why did it start acting up now, which lock box it’s in, and how to get to it.

Cas wishes he could still fly, then at least he’d be able to solve two of their problems. He runs the idea of trying to find a spell to make the object useless by Dean and Dean types it into his phone to send to Sam. A moment later it lights up with a call but Dean mutes it and sticks the phone back in his pocket.

Dean changes subjects and tells him about the latest Dr. Sexy storyline, about a vampire nest he took out a few years back, about running into Garth in Topeka. Cas talks about the gas station a bit but mostly just listens. He always likes listening to Dean talk.

++

When they leave the diner and get back into the Impala, Cas realizes this is the first time he’s enjoyed himself in a long while. He smiles over at Dean, expecting to be asked where he’d like to be dropped off. He’s thinking about the park by the river on the far side of town, it’s a long walk back to the truck stop but he likes to watch the  trees shift in the wind and the fresh air there is a nice change from diesel fumes. Instead Dean says, “You still don’t got a place to stay right?”

Cas nods cautiously. He puts his hand on Dean’s upper arm and, not willing to let the day go south, says sternly, “I assure you Dean, while I’m not strictly an angel anymore I still don’t need nearly as much rest as you or Sam do…”

Dean nods at the steering wheel, his jaw moving. Cas can tell he’s also trying to not turn this into a fight.

Dean shifts towards him, Cas keeps his hand firmly on Dean’s arm. The energy in the car changes and suddenly Cas realizes where this is going. Dean puts one hand on his waist and the other comes to rest on Cas’ neck behind his ear. Cas breathes in sharply.

“Dean,” he says, then he broaches the subject he’d been painstakingly avoiding all morning: “Why did you come here today?”

Dean blushes and goes still for a moment, he swallows but doesn’t say anything. After a moment tugs him in gently and Cas takes pity on him. Dean tastes like maple syrup.

It’d been a while since they’d done this, but they fall back into it easily. After a few moments of kissing Dean pulls back. Their foreheads and noses are still touching and they’re breathing hard.

“What I was trying to say was, uh,” his ears get red at the tips, “that I got a room at that Budget Motel by the gas station.”

All Cas can think of to reply is, “Oh, I’d like to see it.”

It makes Dean laugh and wiggle his eyebrows.

“Yeah, yeah wanna come up and see my art collection?” He says. Cas doesn’t know what he’s talking about but he likes that Dean keeps his hand on his thigh while they drive.

++

By the time Cas wakes up for his next shift Dean is gone. There’s a text on his phone that says Sam finally had his breakthrough based on something Cas had said. Then a second one that tells Cas the room is paid through till the end of the week. He can stay in it or not, doesn’t matter to Dean one way or the other. A third one that just says: Thanks.

Cas lays in bed for a moment enjoying the soft sheets and suddenly remembers the ghost.

++++++++++

Thanks for reading :)

[lifblogs]

Livin In You: Chapter 12

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: Destiel Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: 1312 Summary: Castiel is a mental health worker who is just fine with the way his life is. The only thing that really bugs him is how much his co-worker, and friend, Meg, mentions Dean Winchester, the most famous rock star in the modern age. Meg drags him to a concert, and he ends up getting tied into the wild and angsty life of Dean Winchester. Suddenly his old life seems boring, but so much calmer. Suddenly, it matters to him that he's still a virgin. Suddenly, this rock star that he despised the mention of, now matters to him. Dean Winchester is a rockstar who's on top of the world when it comes to music. Yet there's more that he wants. He misses Lisa and Ben, he craves connection, craves being himself. Any hope for that amidst his alcoholic life all changes when Zachariah, the head exec of Heaven's Records, pairs with a new exec, Michael Edlund -- the Archangel of Music. Under Michael's dominance, he's no longer in control of his own life. There are rules. No more sex with fans. No more alcohol. And in Dean's view, no more god damn free will. Yet he stumbled into Castiel. CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5 | CHAPTER 6 | CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 8 | CHAPTER 9 | CHAPTER 10 | CHAPTER 11

READ ON AO3

Dean was glad to be sitting in the Impala, to feel its purr beneath him, to hear the rumbling of the engine, to feel the leather wheel against his palms. It was better than staying up in that bright hotel room where he’d been told he was made for Michael.

Made for Michael, he mused. What the fuck does that mean? Asshole.

The tension still resided in him, and he figured if — no, when — he went out to lunch with Cas he’d maybe have a little to drink. Not as much as last night. He hd to promise himself that. He didn’t need another repeat of that, and public drunkenness was probably the kind of shit Michael, and Zachariah didn’t want him doing anyway.

Castiel was looking at him, as if he was hurt, cerulean blue eyes so big. Dean didn’t like it. It reminded him of pity. It wasn’t a pitying look, per se, but it sure as hell seemed close.

“What?” Dean snapped.

“They’re allowed to do this to you?” Castiel asked.

“I don’t know,” Dean answered honestly. “They think they can. Sam’s gonna help. But I can’t do anything right now. I just… I just need this time out, Cas. And I want to make up for last night. I was an ass.”

“You were drunk.”

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t an ass.”

“But—”

“Cas, I’m trying to apologize to you,” Dean intoned.

Castiel’s cheeks went a little pink, and Dean couldn’t help staring. They were at a crowded intersection, and would surely be left at the right light for awhile, so it wasn’t as if he couldn’t get away with it.

Someone behind him honked their horn, drawing him from his reverie. How long had he been looking him over? Looking at those pink cheeks, the full, pink lips, the sharp jawline. Dean’s gaze had also gone to his thighs. And as he’d looked at Castiel, Castiel had looked at him.

Focus on the road, he told himself. He made the turn, and continued driving.

“Then I accept your apology,” Castiel eventually said.

“Good.”

“And not because you have money, or your’e some big name celebrity.”

“Right.”

Why was Castiel making a point to say that? Did he think he was entitled?

Maybe I am.

“Because you’re actually trying to be human.”

Dean’s gaze hardened, heat flaring.

“What, so you think I’m not human?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Uh, buddy, yeah, you did.”

“Okay, fine, maybe I did say it,” Castiel snapped. “But I mean, look at you. Your outfit costs more than my rent, your brother is famous by association and also your lawyer, you have Garth at your beck and call. That’s not… normal.”

Dean gave him a cocky grin. “Thanks, it’s called being rich and famous.”

Castiel only sighed at that and sank down in the seat.

“You know, we don’t have to do this,” Dean went on. “I can take you to get that phone, make sure your car gets fixed, and then drop you off wherever you want. You have that friend, right? What’s her name?”

“Meg.”

“Meg, that’s right! Seriously though, man. If this is bothering you—”

Quick as an adder, Castiel shot out, “It’s not.”

“Then what’s your deal?”

“What’s your deal?”

“You know what? No, we’re not gonna argue like this. We’re not a couple o’ twelve year olds.”

Castiel grinned.

“What?”

“I don’t know, Dean, you seem pretty immature.”

“Are you… are you teasing me?”

Castiel’s brows lowered, suddenly all serious. “Yes.”

Dean started laughing, and it felt good. It felt so good that he didn’t feel as if he had to do anything else in that moment. For those few moments he wasn’t thinking about the contract, wasn’t hoping his headache would go away soon, wasn’t thinking about how much he wanted to punch Michael in his stupidly gorgeous face. And he wasn’t thinking about how strange his situation with Cas was, or what he yearned to do with him. There were no worries about where this would lead, about maybe ending up hurt and disappointed. He just laughed.

Castiel laughed too.

“There we go!” Dean said. “Knew you couldn’t be such a hard-ass all the time.”

“Thanks.”

To Dean’s surprise, Castiel seemed to mean it sincerely. He inwardly shrugged. If that’s how Cas wanted to take it, that worked too. Besides, Dean was realizing he was starting to like Castiel’s reactions, even if he wasn’t so sure he liked what it did to him.

“Tell me about yourself,” Dean requested.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t want to take a total stranger out to lunch.”

Castiel seemed to think that was reasonable as he asked, “What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know, whatever you want to tell me,” Dean said with a shrug. “Favorite color, favorite movie, where you went to college… that kind of stuff.”

So Castiel began to tell him, and Dean took note of everything. By the time they made it to an electronics store, he knew his favorite color (green), knew his favorite movie (A New Hope), knew his favorite book (The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher [Dean had had to try really hard to not seem so shocked]), knew his favorite food (peanut butter and jelly sandwiches)... He listened to him talk about his college experience, what he’d majored in. Dean was happy to hear it all. By the time they pulled up to the store, Dean didn’t want the conversation to end.

He rifled through his pockets, grabbed his wallet, and then started flipping through the bills he had in there, counting.

After coming up with what he thought would be a sufficient amount, he passed the money to Castiel.

“Alright, kid, go have fun,” Dean teased.

“Ass.”

“You’re an ass.”

“This is too much,” Castiel said.

“Just take it. I’ll wait out here.”

“Will anyone see you?”

Dean lowered his hat over his brow. Castiel just raised an eyebrow in what Dean thought might be a disbelieving look, but then he took the money Dean offered, and got out of the car. The door creaked as it opened and closed. Dean knew he should oil the hinges, but that sound? That sound felt like home.

He tried not to stare as Castiel walked away, but oh god, Dean would be lying if he said that his new friend or whatever he was didn’t have one hell of a nice ass.

Guilt tugged at his stomach.

Castiel had helped him last night, helped him when he hadn’t even known how to help himself. He shouldn’t be looking at him like that, thinking about him like that.

“You are an ass,” Dean muttered to himself, agreeing with Cas.

Still, even as he tried to veer his thoughts away from what he wished he could do with him, they just kept burning in his brain.

Dean tried to rationalize it, tried to logic his way out of the thoughts. No, you can’t do that. One, he’s being nice to you and you don’t want to fuck that up. Two, he’s a virgin and probably isn’t interested. Three, you don’t even like virgins! Four, if Zachariah or Michael found out, maybe even Crowley, they’d have it out for your ass.

The logic made sense. It really did. Yet, his emotions didn’t listen to it.

Suddenly frustrated, and a little angry with himself, Dean leaned over to look through the glove compartment on Castiel’s side. His cassette tape collection was in there. Hell, he knew cassette tapes were outdated, but they were classic. How could he not love them?

Dean found a Led Zeppelin tape that he loved, and he popped it into the tape deck. He put the volume just loud enough for him to hear, and listened to one of his greatest inspirations while he waited for Castiel.

[tibbinswrites]

Suptober Day 9 - Baby

She was in motion, as she so often was, driving along monotonous asphalt, her gas pedal pushed down almost to the floor despite the face that they needed her headlights on full beam. A case then. Her boys were on a case.

It must have a time limit too if Dean was pushing her so hard. Someone was in danger. But it wasn’t family, or the scant inch between the pedal and the floor wouldn’t be there.

They’d been in a strange town for a few days, stopping outside various houses while her boys took a couple of badges from her glove compartment and, wearing the suits that Dean disliked so much, got out.

She would hear snatches of their conversation if they stayed outside, but more often she was left in the quiet on the curb. She allowed herself to settle there, a few groans and pops escaping her as she took a break from the long drives her boys favoured, she wasn’t as young as she used to be after all. She didn’t feel old though; she had passed cars, newer models than she, that looked to be on the brink of falling apart, cars spotted with mud and rust, cars that wheezed and rattled and coughed out plumes of sick-smelling exhaust.

She had a rattle too, of course, but it was one that she was proud of. Her rattle was proof that she had carried her boys since they were young enough to think sticking little plastic blocks in her vents was a good idea. It had annoyed her at the time, as had the little green soldier stuck in the holder of one of her back doors and she hadn’t enjoyed the carving either, but now she thought of them fondly. These things made her special, these things made her Baby.

It was Dean who had first given her the name, though not until his late teens when he would sneak her keys and take her out to impress the local girls. He’d talk to her sometimes, asking her to help him get laid, urging her to stay quiet so she wouldn’t wake John. It was during these talks that he’d call her Baby.

Now, Dean pulled her to a squealing stop outside a warehouse, flipping off her lights and he, Sam and the angel they called Cas all jumped out, rummaged through her trunk and headed inside without so much as a backwards glance.

Baby didn’t mind this. She knew a more spiteful car would turn over a couple of times before starting the next time they needed a quick getaway (she’d done that once or twice, it was fun to watch them panic while she knew full well that she would see them safely out of whatever dire situation they’d gotten into, some of their dramatics had apparently rubbed off on her over the years) but she was proud of them, knowing that whatever they were doing was important, that they were saving people.

They came out a quarter of an hour later, Cas carrying an unconscious, bloodied woman. They laid her gently in her backseat, her head resting against the angel’s thigh, her breathing already eased. Cas would heal the victims of their worst injuries, but keep enough so that it wouldn’t raise suspicion when they dropped them off at the nearest hospital. Baby disliked the feeling of blood on her upholstery, a feeling she was unfortunately accustomed to, but she knew it was a petty concern to have, so she dutifully tried to keep from jostling too much when they passed over speed bumps or potholes.

Sam took the woman in to the ER as he was the best at being able to charm his way in and out while dodging as many questions as he could and he was back within minutes, Dean had her out of the parking lot seconds later and then they were on their way home.

Home for Baby was wherever she was parked, of course, home for her was her boys squabbling over the music or munching on snacks that got crumbs in all her crevices. Home for her was when they parked her in a field late at night and then lay on her hood, watching the stars, but in the past few years, home had become her spot in the garage of what her boys called ‘the bunker’. She liked it there. It was familiar and safe and the temperature was carefully controlled and although she was surrounded by other vehicles, and Dean sometimes came in to tinker or take one out for a test drive, it was always her that he came running to when they had a case or when he was angry or upset and just needed to drive. She calmed him, she knew, and she took a fierce pride in that.

Of course, not everything was great for her. She’d been taken by people other than her boys before, not all of them living humans, that had been uncomfortable, she’d been scratched, shot, driven through a house (though she had to respect Sam’s gall for that one) and through signs and other places she was not supposed to go, she’d been dented and marked and flipped over and worst of all, she’d been left under a tarp for months, all the while Dean had needed her and she had been right there.

It had hurt, though ‘hurt’ was the wrong word of course, she didn’t feel pain. But she had wanted, she had wanted to be useful again, for Dean to pop open her hood, rub his hands together and ask her how she was doing today. She’d wanted to hold him in her driver’s seat, feel him pat the dashboard and know that he was okay because he was with her and she would keep him safe.

Being without that had been hard.

When she’d been hit by that semi she’d thought she was done. She’d been sure the owner of the salvage yard she’d been towed to would have her gutted and crushed into a cube, but no. Dean had saved her. Dean had pulled out her dents and fitted her with new parts and yes, okay, he’d also beaten her with a tyre iron but then he’d fixed that too. He’d spent months making her work again, capable of first spluttering, then groaning, then struggling, then purring just as she had used to. He’d taken her for slow laps of the house, listening to her troubles and one by one taking them away.

She didn’t think she could be grateful, and yet she was. He had made her perfect again, re-dropping the plastic blocks into her vents, re-fitting the green soldier, touching up the carving of their initials and she knew that she would be content to belong to these humans for as long as they could keep each other running.

In the end, it would always come back to them, to Baby and her boys.

@winchester-reload

If you liked this, please consider buying me a coffee. 

[honey-bri-books]

The Rupture: Castiel -Part 1

A made-up add on/extended ending from epsiode 15x03 of Supernatural. I do not own any of the characters, do not own rights to the show, etc. All characters created by Eric Kripke. For enjoyment (hopefully not a waste of your time!) Supernatural Fan-Fic. Dean and Castiel’s first lines lifted from episode, written by Robert Berens. Directed by Charles Beeson.

*****

Dean: Where are you going?

Castiel stops in his tracks. The hope that Dean's even curious about his future intentions, or would attempt to stop him from walking out that door. But Castiel can feel it... the hatred. The complete and utter loathing crawling up his back and around his neck, choking him, killing him slowly. 

Castiel: Jack's dead. Chuck is gone. You and Sam have each other. I think it's time for me to move on.

Castiel looks one last time at Dean, giving him a last chance to call him back. To keep him there. If Dean took one step towards Castiel, that would have been enough. If he stood up. But Dean doesn't waver. Doesn't even blink. Just stares Castiel down, daring him to say another word. It's really over. That's it. Castiel can't bear it another moment and has to look down and away from his one reason for living. Run. And don't come back. You'll only hurt him, again. Get away from Dean Winchester, and don't wish....Without saying goodbye to Sam, Castiel climbs the stairs and exits the Bunker. Dean doesn't call out to him, even to threaten Castiel from coming back. 

When Cas is outside he starts for the truck, guilty for taking it without the Winchesters' blessing. Even though both Sam and Dean had multiple options for transportation besides the impala, he knew that it was stealing, and that he had promised never to do anything like this again. To stick by Sam and Dean and to support them in everything they did. To do his very best to communicate and to ask permission for any supplies belonging to the Bunker. To recognize that in respecting each other, that meant that they truly cared for each other....that they loved one another...

He looks towards the Bunker one last time. His one true home. Then he drives away. Pulling onto the highway, Castiel ignores the speed limit, and focuses on putting as much distance between himself and the Winchesters, as possible. Luckily, the roads are empty, due to the lateness of the hour. He blinks away tears, and swallows hard. I'm really leaving. I'm running away...again. Whenever something goes wrong... Castiel lets out a small cry and starts to breath heavily. Another episode. 

Cas pulls over and parks the truck, without turning off the engine. He leans forward and rests his forehead on the steering wheel, focusing on his breathing, both of his arms going slack at his sides. Even though he's been over it a thousand times since it happened, Castiel tries to make sense of his actions and his decision to kill Belphegor, and to destroy Jack’s body, so that if Jack were ever to return... It was Belphegor, that I was up against and he was a monster. He lied to us, was going to cause hurt and suffering to all of mankind, with the power of all Hell's demons at his hands. I had to do it. I didn't have a choice. Just the way Sam didn't have a choice when.... 

Castiel puts his face in his hands, leaning back against the driver's seat. Rowena. If he had let Belphegor live, she would be alive. There's no getting around it...Maybe Dean was right, about everything...about me. Every disappointment, every failure,...Why can't I just leave everyone alone? Cas is almost through the episode when he starts trembling again, his lips quivering. Castiel angrily punches the dashboard, and the glove compartment falls open. A cassette tape labeled ‘Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx’ falls out onto the passenger seat. Cas looks at it for a moment, considering it. Did Castiel ever return the favor, by getting Dean a gift, as well? Could he manage even that? Such a small gesture of kindness, and it was beyond his comprehension. But why would Dean expect anything of the kind, from Castiel? When he was dead to him?Castiel calms himself by taking a long, deep breath. He calmly opens his eyes. I'm done..... 

Castiel pulls back onto the road, and just....drives. He doesn't know what else to do. After many hours on the road, Castiel drives past a sign that says ‘Rest area ½ a mile’. He pulls into a small parking lot off the highway, with several hiking trails on a nearby map. The booth next to the map is dark, and Castiel is the only one in the area. He exits the truck and inspects the map. Without anything better to do at the moment, Castiel chooses a trail that opens to a view of the lake, a mile or so into the woods. 

He has his angel blade with him, but knows he wouldn't bother drawing it, if attacked by any demons or monsters, lurking in the bushes. The stars are out and the moon is bright enough to light the way for him, beaming through the treetops. After what seems a short amount of time, Cas reaches the cliff, looking out onto the lake. There is a fence built with logs that seem worn and weathered from time, with a rusty sign nailed to it, saying 'Do not cross fence'. The rocks extend out on the other side to form a ledge, similar to the shape of a giant arrowhead.

Castiel climbs through the fence and walks out to the edge of the cliff. Looking over it, he sees the lake, down below. He once was told that the highest cliff in the world, is about 1,340 m. high. Castiel wonders now if the cliff he's standing on, is anywhere close to being that high up. Dean's voice in his head.. You're dead to me.. Castiel swallows hard. The tears are endless, and he's dizzy from the pain.. His only reason for living, for fighting. For trying over and over again to do the right thing wants nothing to do with him. I'll only hurt you again, if I stay. 

Castiel looks up at the stars. He wonders if Dean decided to take a walk that night, as well, and they were both wishing the same thing. That they could start over. That they could change one thing in their past, to shape their end where it could possibly involve each other, without the tears and without the hate, where Dean didn't have to get so angry...an ending where Dean could be happy, if only...

Cas looks ahead into the empty air, into the sea of stars. The cliff's edge glows in the moonlight. His ears are buzzing, and the sounds of the forest disappear. His breath is labored and his body aches. Shaking, still struggling to breathe, he takes a step forward. He releases his blade from his sleeve and lets it fall softly to the ground. Another step forward.... 

It's over.. I won't hurt you again. I won't betray you again. I pray you forget ever meeting me, that where I'm going I'll be allowed my memories of you. That no matter where I am I'll hear your voice, remember your eyes..

Castiel stops, suddenly. He lets out a quiet sob. His toes are just off the edge of the cliff, his heels the only thing grounding him... He allows himself to cry, for awhile. Shaking violently, gripping his fists so tightly, blood trickles from his hands, his nails digging into his palms. Finally, his body tiring out, swaying sickly, Castiel opens his eyes, his vision clouded by tears. You're safe from me now...Forget me...

Blocking his final prayer so that no angel or human would hear him, his body goes quiet, the earth completely still as if in support of what he's about to do. As if wanting it..

...Sam. I  never deserved your patience, your friendship. Could never earn it.....Dean.... Please forgive me... another step towards the stars, away from the cliff....

He never truly missed his wings. Never hoped to get them back. Because Dean preferred Castiel to ride in the impala, where Dean could know where he was. And Castiel could watch over Dean, in return. The air whips past Castiel's face, as he plummets towards the water, and the rocks just at the shore. He makes a final plea to the stars...Let me take his pain away from him, let me keep it with me forever... Cas can taste his tears on his lips, even when falling.

I love you...Castiel opens his arms wide as he falls, into nothing, into Empty...Dean, I love you...

A rush of pain....Then darkness......Dean Winchester his final thought, his final breath.

See The Rupture: Castiel Part 2 for continuation of story.

https://honey-bri-books.tumblr.com/post/188577693196/the-rupture-castiel-part-2 

[stusbunker]

Known: Friends in a Fix

A Supernatural Dark Fan-fiction

Featuring: Dean Winchester x Demon!Reader, Dean x Female Vessel OC

Series Masterlist

A/N: With the dates I let you know where the action falls in regards to air dates, I try not to repeat information you already know. Please ask if something doesn’t make sense! xoxo Stu

Not really any warnings this chapter, there will still be show level violence, possession, mental health concerns, and a reminder that it is a Slow Burn. Each Chapter will have its own warnings, because I am generous like that. xoxo Stu

The dark figured loomed in the doorway, an insipid strobe light shone from another room, effectively blinding her as she tried to make out a face or species to her capture. Chloe was pinned down to a wide table, unable to move any of her extremities and the maddening realization that she was going to die like some bitch in a horror movie caused her to taunt the bastard.

“Oh goodie, you’re here—” her voice came out flat, as if she had an accent or something shoved in her mouth. When she looked down at her surroundings, everything shifted. Her hands paled and thinned as she tried to figure out what was happening. Then his voice sent a shiver down her spine, it was familiar yet ominous. Her head snapped up to face him when suddenly she woke up.

The raggedy blanket she kept along the passenger’s seat back wedged beneath her head as a makeshift pillow.

Earth Date: October 8, 2013

Location: A Rest Stop Somewhere between Madison and Milwaukee

She never had nightmares, for a hunter it was a rare quality, one that she had prided herself on. That was until she started to, when exhaustion nor booze could quell the festering dreams that haunted her even in daylight. CC started to question her fortitude, trying to relive the past few weeks and see what would have triggered such elaborate horrors. It was like she had ingested someone’ else’s trauma, the unfinished memories at odds with her own strengths and fears. She quickly grew dismayed over the new, if unfounded, weakness.

CC sat up, rubbing her face with flat swipes of her palms, chasing away the barely two hours of sleep she had managed before the last episode. She stared at the clock on the dash before grumbling to herself and starting the engine. She had turned off her phone the night before after a landline had refused to stop calling and to leave a message with more information than a selfish urgency. There were only a handful of people Chloe Collins would answer after that kind of dramatics, and two of them were dead. She thought about calling Garth, but let the idea float out of her focus as quickly as the wind picked up over the moraines.

It was another day before she remembered to turn her phone back on, having driven mindlessly until she stopped in front of an overgrown gas station and convenience store that looked like it had survived a tornado or some other natural disaster that would have shattered its windows. There was a residue to the place, as if a spirit had led her there to clean up its mess. If there was a spook behind the numbing atmosphere, it remained perpetually silent and out of sight.

“Hey, look, I know things are probably bad out there, but if there is any chance you are near Colorado, call me. Sam’s laid up and, I, I can’t do this myself, not right now. Consider this calling in all my favors. Thanks, Chloe.” Dean Winchester’s voice dropped on her name, it was a plea, not a sign off. He never used her real name. And he rarely asked for help. She turned West before scrolling for his number in her contacts list.

Nothing seemed real anymore.

Location: Nebraska

Despite the bright sunshine and crisp air, Castiel was growing bitter towards his surroundings. He heard Hael’s warnings in his memory as he walked down the quiet two-lane road. Hoping he could do what he had to, in order to stay as far away from every other angel as possible. He had changed clothes, spending his last coins on vending machine nutrients and a bottle of water. The truck driver had been polite enough, dropping him off at the next stop without any agreed upon repayment. And so, he started walking, again, painfully hungry and alone.

The passing vehicles rumbled passed Cas in a blur, his arm held out awkward and listless as he glanced half-heartedly at the few potential rides. Suddenly a rusted pick up screeched along, failing to come to a complete stop as it blew through the shoulder and into the grassy ditch. Castiel instinctively chased after the seemingly out of control vehicle, worry cresting his brow. When he reached the passenger side window, his stomach pitched against its emptiness.

Demon.

The woman appeared frozen, knuckles white against the worn steering wheel. She was shaking either from the impact of the accident or from fighting the entity that was trying to control her. Once he spoke, she spun to face him, her heart shaped face familiar over the parasite’s sinister features.

“I know you—”

“Castiel?” The woman’s voice croaked out of her clenched jaw. The flash of her grey eyes and the charm hanging from her rearview mirror brought pieces of old conversations and images back into focus. Dean mentioning a friend who had made repelling talismans by combining Native American chants with hoodoo ingredients. Her grandfather was a master of petroglyphs, spellwork and runes while her mother had visions from an early age.

“Chloe? Chloe Collins? Did Dean send you?” Castiel’s voice was urgent, but the worry clouded his now human features.

“I tried to stop, but my foot, it’s like it wouldn’t--- am I okay?” She begged for reassurance, not being able to move more than an inch in either direction. Castiel pained for this woman, unaware and at the mercy of her attacker.

“You’re going to be fine,” Castiel walked around the truck, never taking his eyes off of the hunter. When he reached the driver’s side door, the demon took hold. Her head tilted at an unnatural angle, eyes blackened as a horse-like huff flared her nostrils.

“Hello, thief. Long time.” The demon struggled back against her host, Chloe’s voice wavered as she pushed open the door, sending Cas flat on his ass. She leaped from the cab, nearly pouncing on him.

“What’s a-matter?” The demon continued to taunt him, “It seems if the jailbreaker has lost its wings?”

Castiel drew the Angel Blade from inside his stolen hoodie, the fear and humanity rolling towards the demon’s nostrils in intoxicating waves. The weapon got the demon’s attention, she snarled at him as worried voices came out of nowhere. Cas looked back to the road, a family had pulled over to check on the stalled vehicle. The mother’s voice beckoning to the father as he approached the struggling pair.

“Everybody okay over here?” The man’s large hands were gripped in front of his chest as if he was warming them before beginning a task.

Chloe’s eyes returned to normal as she leaned down to pull Castiel back onto his feet. He didn’t say anything but gave the demon/hunter a sidelong glance.

“Yeah, should be, I got caught rubbernecking this one, but he was kind of enough to see that me and my truck are square.” Chloe’s voice had returned, her thick hair drifting in the breeze as she shoved her hands in the front pockets of her jeans.

“You okay, man? You look like you saw a ghost!” The concerned motorist chortled as Castiel thought about what the man meant.

“No, there are no restless spirits here.” Castiel’s confusion broke the man’s revelry.

“Alright, could you do me a favor and wave to the Missus? She wouldn’t believe me unless everyone’s smiling.” As if on cue, Chloe and the bystander turned and waved back at his minivan, his wife beaming with relief as Castiel tried to patch on a smile. As soon as the family was back on the road with another round of enthusiastic waving from Chloe, Castiel redrew his blade.

She froze with the deadly point pressing gently above her kidney, “You kill me, you kill the girl, Castiel. You might be a half-dead has-been, but you wouldn’t do that to the Winchesters. Not when Dean sent her to collect you.”

“What are you doing with her?” Castiel was unmoved by her rationality.

“Nothing you need to worry about, besides,” the demon spun, hard, landing a firm elbow to his temple. “We are too exposed out here, for both our sakes.”

***

Castiel woke in her passenger seat a few hours later, the sun igniting the horizon behind them in a burst of pink and lavender. Chloe smiled at him as she briefly took her eyes off the road. He sat up, hand twitching over his missing weapon.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to hunt you Castiel.” Her voice was soft and genuine, he realized he was talking to the woman and not the demon now. “But, if you don’t believe me, the Angel Blade is under your seat. I didn’t want to accidentally stab you while I dragged your unconscious ass into the cab.”

Cas didn’t bother verifying her explanation, he had grown too distracted by the giant-sized soft drink in the cupholder. “May I?” He asked with an audible swallow over his parched throat.

“Be my guest,” CC hummed a melody after her offer, one in stark contrast to the radio commercial jingle playing. Castiel removed the thin plastic lid and poured the bubbly, icy liquid down his throat. He paused when the frigid temperature burned his chest, just as an obnoxious belch escaped his lips.

“Excuse you,” CC chuckled, handing him a fistful of napkins from the glove compartment, he hadn’t realized he had spilled down his front.

“Why are you helping me?” Cas’s question caught her off guard.

“Obviously, so I can hold you hostage and take advantage of you,” CC didn’t miss a beat, winking at the perplexed grimace on the Angel-man’s face. “I’m a friend of the Winchesters? Dean was freaking out because Sam was laid up, so he asked if I was near Colorado?”

She continued to end each sentence as if it were a question, hoping the connections would be made in his brain. “When did you last talk to Dean?”

“I haven’t, just started driving West. Got pretty lucky to have spotted you, too. You look half-dead. Everything alright?” She was leading him, but he didn’t feel threatened with her concern.

Castiel sighed, “I’m not up to my full power, thank you for your help, Ms. Collins.”

“CC, Cas. It’s, just, CC.”

***

Castiel felt their presence before he heard his name over the radio waves, the Angels were closing in on him. Traveling with a demon, even a somewhat accommodating one, had been too risky after all. They had stopped for gas and a quick meal, but he knew better than to lead his fallen brethren back to CC and whoever was possessing her. Before CC returned from the women’s room, Cas ducked out of the small convenience store and made his way across the highway to a fast food restaurant.

He slowly made his way up the frontage road and stuck his thumb out for a ride in the opposite direction. Twenty minutes later, he was whisked away, hopefully drawing the Angels away from the confusing demon’s scent.

That night he called Dean from a borrowed cellphone at a group home.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas, what the hell?!” Dean barked over the line.

“I wanted to contact you because, well, I left CC at a truck stop in Nebraska.”

“Glad to know she got my message, why’d you split? Everything alright?”

“No, the Angels were trailing me, and I didn’t want to endanger her. Dean? How long has she—"

“Yeah, sorry about that, she can be a bit of a pistol sometimes,” Cas could hear the eye roll in Dean’s voice.

“That’s not what I mean, Dean. You do know that—”

“Oh, okay, right. Sorry, man, Sam was talking. Listen, you just get here asap. I’ll call Chloe before she burns half the corn fields looking for your ass.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

“You sure you don’t want us to pick you up?”

“No, Dean, I think I can manage another state or two.” It was Cas’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Well, okay. But, uh, be careful out there, man.” Castiel hung up as his cover name was called out from the reception desk, announcing his bed assignment.

***

Earth Date: October 13, 2013

Location: Las Vegas, Nevada

Chloe kicked herself for showing up to the care facility on a Sunday afternoon. The residents were exhausted from an outing the day before and the staff was not the most enthusiastic to last minute visitors. An extremely tall blonde female resident frowned at CC as she approached the corner where her mother sat gossiping. With the practiced patience and subtly of her trade, she slid into a seat beside her mother and listened to the perceived drama around her.

One of the night nurses was a kleptomaniac, Doris, her mother’s companion was certain. It was all very mundane with a nostalgic level of neighborhood paranoia, drawing an easy curl to her closed lips. CC sat for ten minutes before the women looked up and realized they had company, her hands folded over her elbows as if holding herself together.

“Hey, Mama,” she leaned forward and patted her mother’s knee. Her mother watched her skeptically, following her hand as it retracted back to her lap as if Chloe’s had personally offended her.

“What’s the matter with you?” Her mother’s tone was blunt, but to be expected. “Your energy is all foggy.”

“It’s nice to see you too,” CC grumbled, tucking her hair behind her ear, her piercings sparkling in the pre-sunset glow that shown through the long windows behind them.

“Please tell me you didn’t bring something with you? I don’t have the means to expel spirits in here.” Her mother huffed, searching the area around their small square of chairs as if a ghost would jump out at the suggestion and attack them all. CC sighed, somethings never changed, mood disorder medicated or not. Her mother had dark eyes and kept her hair in a thick, meticulous plait down her back. Other than that, the women were nearly identical, barely a laugh line or forehead crease deeper on her mother’s smooth features versus her own.

“I’m clean, Ma’am, I know what I’m doing,” CC whispered adamantly now. “Can we talk in private?”

Her mother eyed Doris knowingly, “Like you’re going to rat us out, I swear.”

“Fine.” Chloe leaned back, sighing as the older women shared a look.

“Constance, I’ll be back, I’m going to tell our eavesdropper to mind her own damn business.” Doris and Constance snapped their heads back to land disapproving eyes on the woman that had given CC a very similar look when she first arrived. Soon, Doris was out of earshot.

“Do you hear them?” CC asked, looking at her mother’s shoes.

“Of course, I hear them, girl. They won’t shut the hell up. It’s like they think they’re the only ones to experience a change of address.” Constance Collins groaned, rubbing her temples against the broadcast of celestial communication.

“Yeah, well, moving pains are the least of our worries. It’s like a temper tantrum met turf warfare.” CC explained what she had figured out about the dispelled angels’ situation.

“What are you going to do about it?” Constance watched her daughter, noting the shadows that drooped into her usually full cheeks.

“See how it pans out for now, I guess. Not really something a single hunter can do about all of Heaven.” CC shrugged.

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.” Her mother recited verbatim.

“Thanks, Margaret, didn’t realize I had stepped in to a Soc class.” CC rolled her eyes.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, Chloe Cathleen. If you want to fix this mess; you can. Simple as that.”

“Thanks?”

“Anytime,” her mother smirked at her, until CC’s face pulled up and grinned back. “You in town?”

“Not really,” CC admitted, checking her phone for the time.

“Well, the night meds get distributed soon, better scoot before they added you to the queue, doll-baby.”

CC stood, rubbing her sweaty palms on the front of her fitted jeans. “Take care of yourself, Mama.”

Constance stood leaning up to place her cheek against her daughter’s, and with a short hum came a dark send off. “Don’t be too reckless out there. Come back to me.”

CC closed her eyes, “Of course, Mama.”

They broke apart and left with stuttering smiles on both of their lips.

Earth Date: October 17, 2013

Location: The Bunker

Dean woke to the frustrating buzzing of his phone against his nightstand, without a glance at the caller id he groaned a greeting.

“Go for Winchester.”

“Dean?” She sounded so small.

“Chloe, Christ, where have you been?! I’ve been calling for weeks.” Dean sat up, batting at the covers in order to free his bare legs, tossing them over the side.

“North Carolina, uh, just outside of Whittier.” She wasn’t sounding any better the longer she talked. “Uh, I don’t know how I got here, Dean. I remember looking into a case and then nothing.”

“Are you somewhere safe?” Dean rubbed his eyes, panic flooding his thoughts.

“I’m in a diner, but I don’t know where my truck is or—”

“Okay, well get a room, call me and I’ll give them my card. Got it?”

“Yeah, okay, right, first motel in the phonebook, right?”

“That’s my girl. Okay, sit tight. I’ll be there soon.” Dean waited for her sign off, throwing on pants with one hand to his ear.

“Okay, thanks, Dean.” Dean swallowed, exhaling tightly before ending the call. Everything from hex bags to Angel possession crossed his mind as he drove East in a fury. He could have called another hunter, he should have told Sam where he was going, but he didn’t. He just drove.

 My girl. Dean’s words flooded your thoughts as you sat hunched over your malt at the diner counter. Now the waiting began.

tags: @dontshootmespence @because-imma-lady-assface @mrswhozeewhatsis @smi727 @sassykayla255 @dxr-supernatural-fanfic @supernaturalboi @dumbthotticus @eve05glee @veroinnumera @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @forgettingthoughts @shokushuhime-stuff @fanfictionrecommendations-com @soullesscollection-world @igotdressedthroughthemess 

Next Chapter: A Line Once Crossed

[prompt-and-circumstances]

The Other Family Business

The Other Family Business

Characters/Pairings: None, just Dean speaking with the Reader (respectfully dubbed Andi where “you” just wouldn’t suffice)

Prompt: #31 “I taught you how to pick locks, and that’s how you choose to use that skill?” for the Back in the Game Challenge by @ellen-reincarnated1967

Summary: Dean has a little heart-to-heart about the family business

Word Count: 1,482

Warnings: Mild Angst in the form of “feeling like you haven’t lived up to expectations”, brief mentions of rape and other crimes

A/N: The prompt is in bold which is redundant once you see where the prompt is. This is a reposting of an old fic!

The Other Family Business

“I taught you how to pick locks, and that’s how you choose to use that skill?” Dean was visibly upset; his broad shoulders were raised subconsciously as his silent, indignant protest. He just couldn’t understand why you had chosen this career path; even after all you had been through with him and Sam. This must feel like betrayal to him, when truly it wasn’t anywhere near that; you saw it as a tribute to him and Sam.

“Nobody asked you to teach a six-year-old how to pick locks. Who even thinks to do that?” Dean raised his finger to state matters-of-fact and opened his mouth to retort back with pie-fueled logic, but you weren’t giving him the chance. “You taught me all kinds of wacky stuff that no child or adult should have or know about, unless they were planning to overthrow a drug cartel and take over as the reigning despot. I just took what you gave me and ran with it.” You rolled your eyes so far back into your head you were convinced you could see your brain. You dropped your own shoulders as you leaned back against the impala and calmly folded your arms across your torso. You just knew the second you said it, Dean would use it against you.

“Yeah, you did run with it. You ran away from me, Sam, Cas, Jody, Garth, and every hunter that spills blood on the job. You ran away and actually went so far as to make our jobs harder!” Dean’s voice was beginning to rise into a strained yell; this was hard for him. In all the time you’ve known him, he has never yelled at you. Deep down though, you were pretty sure it was more for you leaning on his Baby than for your supposed “betrayal.” Though, all things considered, you do make his work more difficult.

“You said so yourself, I should stay away from hunting and live my life as a normal person. Your words exactly.”

“I know that, but I didn’t tell you to work against us!” Dean thumped his fist down onto the hood of Baby and then rubbed where the impact had occurred as if to apologize. He always was weird about his car.

You looked down at your watch, lunch break was almost over. You looked over at Dean to see him staring at you intently. You knew he was fighting back all kinds of outbursts; he and Sam practically raised you. They saved you on the job, didn’t arrive in time for your parents though, but they saved you and that counted.

“You act as if I have personally taken a knife and jabbed it into your back Dean. All I’ve ever done was what you asked of me. I kept my head low and went to school. I don’t look for trouble, I don’t hunt, and if something comes to town, I call Jody who sends the closest hunter to take care of it. I pay taxes like a good citizen, have a steady job, and live a normal life. Just as you and Sam told me to, no, as you both raised me to. What more do you want from me?”

“You turned on our family business and made it harder for us to save people. What if this had been the case when we went to your house? You wouldn’t have seen five!” In Dean’s eyes, you had backstabbed and betrayed him. You went down the wrong path in his eyes. It was heart breaking looking into his face and seeing that, but that was because he didn’t understand it yet.

“So let me get this straight, you’re pissing in my cheerios because I pick locks for a living? A skill you gave me no less.” Dean’s shoulders dropped as he processed what you just said. Technically, it didn’t make sense to be mad about turning a degenerate skill into a livelihood, but it just felt so wrong to him.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Yes, it is Dean. You taught me how to pick locks. You also told me not to hunt and to live a normal life, but, how could I? I know what it is that goes bump in the night, I know what all the sounds mean. I carry salt packets and wear only silver jewelry. I have a weapon in every room of my apartment, in my glove compartment, and I even have a switchblade in my purse. Just how exactly did you expect me to adjust to a world that denies monsters’ existence when I know monsters are real?”

“I expected you to call whenever anything, and I mean anything, happened in town. You know Sam and I would drop everything and come. Even on the job, we would come right away, because it’s you.”

“I did call, I do call, why do you think you’re here? Look Dean, we’re on the same side and always have been. I know you don’t think my work is conducive to yours, but you’re honestly missing the point.”

“Missing the point? Your lock picking is putting us out of business! You know why I’m here without Sam? He has a broken leg! We tried to get through a door but broke the lock pick kit, so Sam tried to break down the door only to discover, after a compound fracture by the way, that the door had been reinforced! It was break-proof, by the company you work for!”

You heaved a sigh of exasperation. You felt terrible about what happened to Sam, but you called him and explained, and he understood. Sam said he was proud of you and he was glad you found your own path. Dean is another story, he’s proving difficult; and this wasn’t the first time this has come up. Dean has never listened about your work. Damn it, he was going to listen this time.

“I know about Sam and I feel terrible, but you guys knew the job was dangerous when you took it. Listen, I love you and Sam; you’re the only family I have left. The two of you raised me since I was four-and-a-half. I grew up hearing all about the family business: hunting things, saving people. And that’s just the problem with you, Sam, and all the hunters out there. You hunt things.”

Dean looked thoroughly perplexed, “I don’t follow Andi.”

“Let me explain then. You don’t kill people, right?”

“No, because they’re people. We kill monsters Andi, monsters.”

“Dean, that’s just it! Some people are monsters. People get murdered, sometimes brutally, by other people. You don’t account for human depravity, but out here in the “normal” world where things that bump in the night don’t exist; the world which you told me to live in, is utterly terrifying. You keep people safe from vampires, witches, ghouls, werewolves. But what about the gangs, drug dealers, looters, serial killers and so forth? Crime still exists and it is still very human. Just last month a thirteen-year-old girl was brutally raped and murdered only two blocks from her home. The scumbag who did it sneered in court at her weeping parents and said she looked “tasty, like a spring chicken.” That’s why I pick locks. When I pick them, my company sees where the lock was weak and flawed; they improve the locks and invent reinforcements and then we install them. The company I work for protects people, just like you and Sam. We just protect them from other people. I’m so sorry it makes your work harder, but ordinary folks are more likely to die at the hands of their human neighbor than they are from a werewolf. The odds are against them and I’m just trying to even them out a bit.”

You had more to say in your filibuster speech, but Dean cut you off with one of his classic, manly bear hugs. “I had no idea.” He stepped back and held you at arm’s length to look you in the eyes, his green ones were tearing up and there was an audible catch in his throat when he spoke, “Andi, you’re carrying on the other family business: keeping watch, saving people. I’m so proud of you.”

You smiled, he finally heard you and understood, just like Sam. They raised you to protect yourself, but you grew up watching them save others, sometimes at the expense of themselves. They even saved you and you wanted to pay that forward while keeping your promise of not hunting. So, you found a different way to save people, by building better locks. Between your work and their work, decent people had a chance of sleeping safe and sound at night, with no fears to keep them awake.

You liked the sound of it too, the other family business.

[paynepestcontrol]

Scorpions - The Summer Invaders & Prevention Tips

It is not a myth that some weather parts, particularly temperature and dampness, assume an imperative part in influencing the existence cycle and home of nuisances. 

For bugs, higher temperatures speed up their life cycle. This prompts a faster-experienced speed and less time between ages. That is the reason we see more bugs in hotter seasons. 

Pests overall change their practices to all the more likely change themselves against the warmth. Discovering a safe house to keep away from the limited climate is essential for endurance. With a heatwave grasping different states in the U.S., pests here begin walking inside to look for cover. You may have seen it as of now – subterranean insects assemble around your sink, garbage bins, or go into washrooms; bugs home around your windows or stow away in concealed zones like carports, storm cellars, and unfinished plumbing spaces. You may likewise discover bugs hoping to set up their networks in your shower! Scorpions are presently intensely attacking homes too, creeping into dim spots like carports, cupboards, and wardrobes to get away from the warmth. 

Among every one of the bugs that can possibly be spotted inside, scorpions may be the most startling. Most scorpions in the U.S. are found in the Southwest district; they come in numerous sizes and shadings, however are typically pale gold or tan and don't become bigger than a couple of inches long. There are 90 types of scorpions in the US yet just one, the Arizona bark scorpion has toxin adequately lethal to slaughter a human. This species is normally yellow-earthy colored and under three inches in length. Despite the fact that most scorpion stings are not lethal, their stings are still excruciating, so it is ideal to stay away from them. 

To stay away from upsetting experiences with scorpions in and around your home: 

Dispense with standing water 

Seal breaks and cleft, particularly around entryways and windows where they can access your home 

Inspect cupboards, storage rooms, and other dim places consistently 

Clean up brush, trash, and heaps of wood from the edge of your home. Ward kindling around 30 feet off 

Scorpions feed on different bugs like crickets, turn open-air lights off around evening time will help keep crickets from get-together around your home 

In the event that you have effectively recognized a scorpion in or around your home, you can attempt to eliminate it yourself by scooping it into a vacant compartment and disposing of it immediately. Yet, make certain to continue with an alert, wearing the defensive dress, for example, gloves and long sleeves are emphatically suggested.

If you are facing Scorpion issues in San Diego, CA homes call "Payne Pest Management" a prominent San Diego Pest Control agency to exterminate and control any kind of pests.

[dustydreamsanddirtyscars]

Hello! I'm so glad you had the opportunity to go to JIBcon. Thank you so much for sharing your experience and I'm happy you had such a good time. I was reading theories for how the series might end and I was just wondering what your ideal final episode of supernatural would be like. Have a great day!

Hello dear!

That is a really tough question. I have written about a few different scenarios before (though these are only the first coming to mind, there are more, but I don’t have a particular tag - shame on me):

http://dustydreamsanddirtyscars.tumblr.com/post/117070474711/pick-up-the-pen-dean-winchester-a-personal

http://dustydreamsanddirtyscars.tumblr.com/post/102110189976/being-human-4x13-there-goes-the-neighbourhood

http://dustydreamsanddirtyscars.tumblr.com/post/73494828935/jensens-dream-about-supernaturals-final-scene

http://dustydreamsanddirtyscars.tumblr.com/post/41855351593/suddenly-a-wild-headcanon-appears

http://dustydreamsanddirtyscars.tumblr.com/post/106620182671/suddenly-a-wild-headcanon-appears

I guess a combination of any of these would be something I’d really like and enjoy.

A couple of season ago I was thinking that SPN could end on a happy note, but I feel like that now we may be heading towards more of a serious ending - meaning that much like Jensen and Jared always emphasize, the brothers would die - possibly by saving the world one last time, possibly by one sacrificing himself to close the Gates of Hell and the other to close the Gates of Heaven (as it seems we may go back to that arc). I could imagine however that we would get a sort of glimpse into the “after life” then, meaning a reunion scene at Harvelle’s or at Bobby’s for example. Basically that the audience would still get some sort of “happy ending” despite their death, because we’d know they laid their weary heads to rest and found peace and are happy now.

I’m sorry that I couldn’t come up with a more planned out ending plot wise, atm I feel a bit drained. ;) I’m sure there will be more scenarios coming to mind once the end is nearing. :)

So far however, I think I’d love it if Dean truly traded the Impala for a motorcycle at the end for example as Jensen once mused. Maybe, and as tragic and sad it would be, he is the last one standing. He doesn’t need a car any longer because sam and Cas are gone, but while Dean would mourn them and be sad, there may be some sort of “being at peace” and weird “okay-ness”, some bittersweet melancholia playing over it. I kind of picture it a little bit like the end road trip of “Elizabethtown” where we’d follow Dean placing Sam’ and Cas’ ashes at his favorite places and ultimately he’d stop at the Grand Canyon and that’s where he trades the Impala for the bike, but it’s not just the Impala he leaves behind. Maybe with a note tucked behind the windshield saying - may she become as a wonderful home to you as she was for us. And in the gloves compartment Dean would leave something else too: a journal, his journal, starting with the words: I am Dean Winchester and this is my story…

[tibbinswrites]

Prompt: “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Prompt requested by @psychicbouquetblaze-stuff​ (sorry I’m retagging you for the same story but the ‘keep reading’ link no longer worked so I thought it would be best to repost. I’ve also edited it a bit because it needed doing).

Prompts are open. I’ve got a few lists to choose from in the ‘Prompts’ section of my blog or feel free to send me an ask or a message if there’s a specific one you’d like ^_^

Dean/Castiel

Prompt #5 from this list: “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Castiel flashed his badge and a smile to the janitor as he opened his front door.

“Mr Faukes? FBI Agent Moore, and this is my partner, Agent Mathers. We were hoping to ask you a few questions about the incident you reported last night.”

Dean held up his own badge with a faint tightening of his eyes at the alias. It had been one of Cas’ spare sets of badges in the glove compartment of the continental, Sam had taken the impala to the next town over, where a possibly related case had also popped up. Dean hadn’t been happy about it, but he had conceded that point that seeing as he had a fully powered angel with him, it was best Sam take the vast majority of their weapons, just in case.

Faukes, after throwing a cursory glance at Dean, looked back to Castiel with a shy smile of his own. He was a tall man, late 30s, with strong arms and rugged features. His clothes looked to be a patchwork of different autumn-coloured fabrics but they blended together well and looked soft and comfortable. His light brown hair was neatly combed and he had kind brown eyes that Castiel found himself trusting.

“Sure thing,” he said, stepping back to let them in with the slightly awkward movements of someone who didn’t get a lot of visitors. His voice had a gravelly tone to it that matched the slight German accent. Castiel liked the sound. They walked past him into the small apartment. It smelled pleasantly of lemongrass and was sparsely decorated with an overflowing bookshelf, a sofa squashed beside it and a rickety desk that looked more like storage space than a place of work. A kitchenette was in one corner with a square table and a single chair for meals. The dish rack next to the sink was stuffed with crockery and there was a small sewing machine on another table, along with a couple of rolls of fabric leaning against the wall. A small electric heater clunked slightly as it fought against the morning chill. It was a messy home but meticulously clean. Faukes gestured them to the sofa and spun the dining chair around to face it before sitting himself on the plush cushion tied to the slats with ribbon, “And you can call me Matt. What do you need to know?”

“Your report said you found a jar of eyes in your boss’ office?” Dean cut in as Castiel opened his mouth. His tone was sharp, accusatory, as though Matt was their prime suspect when in reality he was just a witness. Matt looked a little unsettled at the heavy scowl Dean was levelling his way and Castiel couldn’t blame him, he shot Dean a look to take it easy, which was ignored.

“Um… yeah,” Matt said, dragging his eyes from Dean back to Castiel, who nodded encouragingly. Matt cleared his throat, fiddling with a stray thread on the hem of his shirt and began to speak, “So, I was cleaning up after we closed and I noticed the door to Mr Hitching’s office was open. I thought it was strange because even when he’s in he keeps it shut, and he’s supposed to be on holiday for the next two weeks. I figured his one of the other owners might have needed some papers or something and called up his secretary to come and fetch them so I thought I might as well just pop in to vacuum and empty the trash. But I saw it as soon as I turned the light on. It was just… sat on the desk. Like a paperweight, like it wasn’t something important enough to even hide. Five eyes. I remember thinking how weird that was, why five? That’s not even three people… That’s horrible, right? I shouldn’t have thought that.”

“Not at all.” Castiel assured him, leaning forwards intently, “When faced with trauma, the human brain—if it doesn’t reject the trauma entirely—might try to focus on certain details to distract from the trauma itself. You’d be surprised at some of the things people notice when faced with things of this nature. Sometimes their observations are vital to solving the case.”

Matt smiled again, smaller this time, but grateful. It was nice, Castiel decided, making this man smile.

“I bet you’ve got a load of stories like this, huh?” Matt said, shifting forward slightly too, sounding awed and impressed at the idea, “Job like yours. God, I couldn’t do it.”

“Well, we can’t all be janitors.” Dean muttered. The comment was innocuous enough, and Castiel would have ignored it if it hadn’t been for Dean’s tone, practically dripping with venom. Matt’s face immediately fell and Castiel shifted on the couch to glare his ‘partner’.

“Agent Mathers, that was incredibly rude. I think you owe Mr Faukes an apology.”

Dean flushed, an angry red tinge creeping up the back of his neck. He stared at Castiel and the angel saw a kaleidoscope of emotions flash across his face, too fast to catch any of them, but after a moment he relented and turned back to Matt.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, “my partner’s right. I was out of line.”

“It’s alright,” Matt said, looking more confused than offended now, “but thank you.”

Castiel took over the questioning from there, gently prying for all the details Matt could remember. Castiel found himself intrigued by the man, it was clear he was very self-conscious, about his job, his home, himself, but there was also a confidence to him born of self-reliance that Castiel couldn’t help but respect. He also seemed grateful to talk. From what he told them, he didn’t have many friends in the community.

“It’s a small town,” he said, when Castiel asked him why that was, “around here, everyone knows everything about everyone, and they’re pretty quick to judge. Most of them are heavy church-goers. And not the kind that preach love and acceptance, if you get my meaning.”

“That must be difficult.”

Matt shrugged, “It is what it is,” he said, his head tilting slightly to the side as he met Castiel’s eyes, “but it’s nice to talk to some folks with a different mindset for a change.”

Castiel nodded, trying his best to ignore the click of Dean’s jaw and the tension oozing from the seat next to him, “I understand,” he said, “I too find it difficult to ‘branch out’ when it comes to socialising.”

That was an understatement. Excluding other angels, who were less likely to want to catch up than they were to want to bury an angel blade in his chest, most the social interaction Castiel had experienced was through the Winchesters. Sam and Dean were the best men he knew, and their chosen family was a good one, but that didn’t stop Castiel from thinking that it might be nice to have people to talk to without the weight of world-shattering consequences as a constant looming presence in every conversation.

“Anyway, thank you for your time,” he continued, standing and indicating that Dean should follow suit, “you’ve been very helpful.” He produced a card and handed it to Matt while Dean made a beeline for the door. “Here’s my number. If you remember something else, or if you just need to talk to someone with a different mindset, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely call.” Matt said with a wink. “Agent Moore, would it be terribly inappropriate if I were to ask you on a date?”

Dean froze, his hand on the doorknob.

“I- it would,” Castiel stuttered, heat rushing to his face, “but I think I would like that. Perhaps once this case is over?”

“Keep me updated.” Matt grinned.

Dean yanked open the door and strode off down the hall, not even waiting for Castiel to catch up. The angel rolled his eyes and glanced at Matt, who snickered and held up his card.

“Good luck with the case.”

Xxx

“I can’t believe you, Cas. First of all, you made me a rapper, what the hell? Second of all, how do you go into a freaking suspect’s house and come out with a date?”

“Nothing’s been arranged,” Castiel said calmly, watching from the end of one of the twin beds as Dean wore a path in the already threadbare carpet of their motel room, “besides, Matt isn’t a suspect, he’s a witness.”

“Until we can prove he’s not the one carving out eyes, he’s both.” Dean insisted. “I just… I don’t get it, man, I thought you liked chicks anyway?”

“I’m indifferent to gender.” Castiel said, frowning. “I’ve never understood why it matters so much to humans what pronouns their partners use. I liked him. He was interesting and kind and I would like to get to know him better, what’s wrong with that?”

“We’re in the middle of a case, Cas, you can’t afford to get… you know, distracted.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow, “and how many bartenders and waitresses and almost-victims have you gotten ‘distracted’ with, Dean?”

“That’s different!”

“How?” Castiel demanded, truly irritated now. Dean had many wonderful traits that Castiel admired but his hypocrisy was not one of them. He supposed it stemmed from being the older sibling, more often left in charge than not, ‘do as I say, not as I do’ was practically etched into his bones.

“Because...” Dean spluttered, “because they’re just a bit of fun, alright? They knew the drill, we’re not exactly planning to settle down, and were never go out on dates.” He spat the word like something filthy, “What kind of future do you expect you can have with this guy, huh? Are you gonna tell him what we do? Bring him home and introduce him to your half-archangel son and all the people we yanked from another world? The guy was squeamish about a jar of eyes, how do you think he’d handle literally any of the crap we go through?”

“A first date is not a marriage proposal, Dean. What’s the harm in dinner and a movie?”

“You don’t eat.”

“I can, I just don’t need to.” Castiel shot back, “Random sexual conquests don’t appeal to me. I would rather find a person I have a connection with, and I felt I had a connection with Matt. Why are you so angry? The last time I had a date you were happy for me. Is it really because he’s a man?”

“No!” Dean yelled, a little too loudly, he winced as the sound bounced back to him from the cheap cinderblock walls and lowered his voice to a hiss, his arms folded tightly across his chest and he finally stopped pacing, “It’s because I think you’re being irresponsible. We don’t know that we’re not gonna have to gut that guy before the week is out. And what are you talking about a connection? You spoke for half an hour, you don’t build a connection in half an hour.”

“You’re not angry-” Castiel realised, squinting at the man in front of him. His hands were tucked up into his armpits and his shoulders were slightly rounded, almost as though he was trying to curl into himself, “you’re hurt. Wait a minute, are you jealous?”

“What?!” Dean exclaimed, “Jealous? No, I’m not jealous. Of what? I didn’t like that guy.”

Castiel tilted his head, “Then what?” he asked, his voice low and even, “You don’t like that I like him? You don’t like that I could possibly show interest in anyone other than you?”

Dean took a step back like Castiel had hit him. All the blood drained from his face.

“What are you talking about?” He said, which is what Dean always said when confronted with something he didn’t want to admit to.

“Come on, Dean,” Castiel said impatiently, “you’re not stupid and subtlety isn’t my strong suit. You know how I feel about you, you’ve known it for years. So you don’t want it but you don’t want anyone else to want it either?”

“That’s… that’s not-” Dean choked out, looking sick now, “I didn’t mean-”

“Then what?” Castiel cried, finally standing to be on even ground with Dean. He was frustrated, he was angry, he was overwhelmed, “Explain it to me, because I don’t understand.”

Instead of speaking, Dean’s jaw snapped shut and for a moment, Castiel was sure he was going to bolt from the room. Instead he strode forward two steps and cupped Castiel’s face with his hands before bringing their lips together, effectively shorting out his brain.

“I’ve always wanted you.” Dean murmured against his mouth, “Since Purgatory I’ve let myself want you. But if I had you, I could lose you. And I’m not strong enough to lose you.”

They stayed that way for a while, breathing each other’s air, foreheads pressed together, lips barely brushing. Dean’s hands were warm and calloused and gentle against his skin, Castiel’s hands gripped at the fabric of Dean’s shirt, though he didn’t remember moving.

“It’s worth it for this,” Castiel whispered back, half-lost in the feeling of Dean so close, “isn’t it?”

“Losing you sucked bad, Cas.” Dean said shaking his head and pulling back slightly, just enough that they could lock eyes, “I gave up.”

Castiel sighed and pulled away completely, stepping back, feeling cold as Dean’s hands left him. “I understand,” he said, “but I disagree. Neither of us can guarantee forever and it’s not fair for you to try and keep me from seeking elsewhere something that you aren’t willing to give me.”

“I know,” Dean said, but he reached out to take his hand and slot their fingers together, “So this is me realising that I’m willing, I guess.”

Castiel squeezed his hand and quirked a small smile, “Finally.”

[dissectingacat]

muscle system

november 16, 2016

prelab/introduction

1a.)

head: the upper part of the body of a vertebrate, containing the brain and the eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and jaws.

tendon:  a flexible tissue attaching a muscle to a bone. does not rip. fascia:  a thin sheath of tissue attaching a muscle or other organ.

insertion: the attachment of a muscle tendon to a movable bone.

fascicle: the compartments that contain bundle of muscle cells.

origin: the attachment of a muscle tendon to a stationary bone.

perimysium: sheath of connective tissue that covers fascicles.

muscular system: organ system made up of skeletal, smooth and cardiac muscles. the muscular system takes care of movement, maintaining posture, and regulating temperature.

endomysium: connective tissue wrapping that surrounds each individual muscle cells/fibers.

epimysium:  dense irregular tissue surrounding the skeletal muscle

superficial fascia: aka hypodermis. thin layer of fatty connective tissue in the body. 

1b.) prime mover: aka agonist. a muscle that has the major responsibility for making a certain movement. antagonist muscles oppose or reverse a particular movement. antagonist helps regulate action of prime mover by contracting slightly to provide some resistance to prevent overshooting the mark; prime mover and antagonists are located on opposite sides of joint. synergists help prime movers by adding a little extra force to their movement or reducing unnecessary movements that might occur as prime mover contracts also known as “joint stabilizers”.

1c.)  muscular movements are controlled by the nervous system, which controls the # of muscle fibers it stimulates for a particular movement. small movements require only a few muscle fibers to be used. powerful movements cause many muscle cells to be used. the nervous system must predict how big and powerful a movement needs to be & must send the appropriate nerve impulses down to the muscle fibers at that area of the muscle. (i hope the last sentence made sense.)

1d.) if one doesn’t name the muscles, you can not tell whether which muscle is which. most of the names of muscles are from either greek or latin word, that’s why there are word roots that explain what muscle is what. sometimes the root hints of the action of what that muscle does.

purpose

to observe the different muscles and compare the akito’s and a human being’s muscles.

method

day 2: neck/throat muscles

put on the appropriate equipment, which includes the mask, gloves, and apron. one (out of two partners) grabbed the dissection book, from the back-right of the room facing the board. turned the page to the neck/throat muscle section and leave it on the side of the table. one (out of two partners) grab the assigned cat from the feline freezer to the table area where usually the tasks of dissection are performed. we carefully opened the lid of the box. took out the toolbox and checked if there are enough tools, just in case. slowly removed the cat from the plastic bag on the lid, while keeping all of the liquids in the same bag. closed the bag and kept the cat on top of the lid.  grabbed the scalpels and cut in the middle of the neck of the cat really slowly. knowing the muscles are in layers, check how deep the scalpel went through. kept cutting until went a little farther than should have. used the teaser needle, the bent one, to move the skin layer (which is thick) on the side. used the forceps to open up to have a better view of the cat’s neck’s muscles. observed and took pictures of the muscles. used the dissection book to clarify which muscle is which. put the cat back in the bag, made sure the bag is closed and does not have any leaks. cleaned up the lid and tools and the table area where we worked. put the tool box inside and then closed the lid. put the box with the tools and the cat back in the fridge of the dead felines.

day 3 : chest muscles

put on the appropriate equipment, which includes the mask, gloves, and apron. one (out of two partners) grabbed the dissection book, from the back-right of the room facing the board. turned the page to the neck/throat muscle section and leave it on the side of the table. one (out of two partners) grab the assigned cat from the feline freezer to the table area where usually the tasks of dissection are performed. we carefully opened the lid of the box. took out the toolbox and checked if there are enough tools, just in case. slowly removed the cat from the plastic bag on the lid, while keeping all of the liquids in the same bag. closed the bag and kept the cat on top of the lid. opened the dissection book to page 6 which should have another cat’s chest dissected.  found each chest muscle and divided each muscle with the scalpel. observed and took pictures of the muscles. used the dissection book to clarify which muscle is which. put the cat back in the bag, made sure the bag is closed and does not have any leaks. cleaned up the lid and tools and the table area where we worked. put the tool box inside and then closed the lid. put the box with the tools and the cat back in the fridge of the dead felines. 

day 4 : abdomen muscles

put on the appropriate equipment, which includes the mask, gloves, and apron. one (out of two partners) grabbed the dissection book, from the back-right of the room facing the board. turned the page to the neck/throat muscle section and leave it on the side of the table. one (out of two partners) grab the assigned cat from the feline freezer to the table area where usually the tasks of dissection are performed. we carefully opened the lid of the box. took out the toolbox and checked if there are enough tools, just in case. slowly removed the cat from the plastic bag on the lid, while keeping all of the liquids in the same bag. closed the bag and kept the cat on top of the lid. opened the dissection book to page where the abdomen muscle layers were. found each chest muscle. muscles were found easier because of the white, vivid outline that showed where each muscle is. the outlines were only defined because that’s how akito is. and divided each muscle with the scalpel. observed and took pictures of the muscles. used the dissection book to clarify which muscle is which. put the cat back in the bag, made sure the bag is closed and does not have any leaks. cleaned up the lid and tools and the table area where we worked. put the tool box inside and then closed the lid. put the box with the tools and the cat back in the fridge of the dead felines. 

day: i lost count because i was missing too long and my account managed to get hacked. new link will come soon as soon everything goes out well.

put on the appropriate equipment, which includes the mask, gloves, and apron. one (out of two partners) grabbed the dissection book, from the back-right of the room facing the board. turned the page to the neck/throat muscle section and leave it on the side of the table. one (out of two partners) grab the assigned cat from the feline freezer to the table area where usually the tasks of dissection are performed. we carefully opened the lid of the box. took out the toolbox and checked if there are enough tools, just in case. slowly removed the cat from the plastic bag on the lid, while keeping all of the liquids in the same bag. closed the bag and kept the cat on top of the lid. opened the dissection book to the pages where the leg and arm muscles were. if it’s not your cat, watch carefully and point where the cat should be cut. make sure your partner agrees and understands what you are talking about.

cat to human comparison

neck/throat

humans and cats have similar neck/throat muscles, not all muscles are the same since cats have six throat muscles and humans have fourteen different muscles on the outside. they both contain a masseter muscle, digastric muscle, mylohyoid muscle, sternohyoid muscle, sternothyroid muscle, and sternocleidomastoid. they have cartilage going from the middle of the throat and under, there is cartilage. the differences are that the human’s neck/throat muscles connect to the hyoid bone and a cat’s throat muscle does not connect to the hyoid bone at the top.

chest muscle

cats and humans have similar muscles like the pectoralis major and the pectoralis minor. though the pectoralis minor is very huge, in size, on the cat, and smaller on the human. major is very small, in size, on the cat and bigger on the human chest. the human chest does not include the pectoantebrachialis and xiphihumeralis like the cat chest; though the human chest has more muscles on the superficial layer.

abdomen muscle

humans have the rectus abdominis, external oblique, latissimus dorsi, internal oblique, and transverse abdominis. cats have that and linea alba, which humans do not have. humans, they have more muscles including the rectus sheath, serratus anterior, external and internal intercostal.

discussion/analysis

during the day that the abdomen muscles were being observed, the mistake of cutting in the linea alba. later to be discovered that the cut was supposed to be in between of the linea alba and external oblique. The mistake of the huge cut that made it deep into the intestines made a small ruckus and caused to mess up the lab portion that was being worked on, so to fix that mistake, the cut was forced to close by 4 pairs of forceps.

personal reflection: 

i felt uncomfortable starting out my year with cutting a cat, but this is what it takes to pass highschool. honestly, this is not the first worst think i’ve ever experienced. cutting into the cat was stressful yet very exciting in its own twisted way. i have fun doing this with a partner like sarah hoac. i’m not a book-kind of learner. i’m more of a hands on learner which i recently found out through these lab projects. i appreciate the fact that hoac also saw that i am a hands-on person and she lets me cut the cat and talks while i’m doing it so i will understand what’s going on. i feel bad for relying on her because on day one and two i could tell she didn’t like this whole idea of cutting the cat. the first three or four days just felt like complete chaos. i think it was the third day we cut way too deep and mrs. carey closed the gap with forceps. though overall, i really appreciate hoac for understanding the book. when working on the back, i realized hoac and i cut the wrong side but we continued going because it still worked out well. 

later on, i went to a different country, which is the country i was born in. i tried buying tickets before but they didn’t accept my paperwork until i have become 18. there was an 80% i couldn’t come back but the 20% kept me going for years. the timing of the trip was awful because it’s a school week which almost drove me nuts. i spent some days in couple cafes to contact sarah and see what was going on. overall, my situation got bad.

once i came back, i had a new partner which wasn’t bad since she’s really pretty and very smart. i was kind of relieved i had someone to catch up with, though my timing these couple months isn’t great since my wifi got shut of for weeks so the editing my blog thing only happened in school and a friends’ houses. 

emily murphy, my new part-time partner, came back and we worked on the cat as much as possible. i personally still don’t understand the arms and legs but I kind of get the estimated area and where they are, i guess. (i don’t know how to word this.) it was a new cat that we worked with, and i really wish i was faster when it came to this but i have to find other ways to learn. 

i apologize i’m doing not so great but it’ll change. i’m having a hard time right now but you can’t succeed without failing. (this sounds like a diary entry now haha, sorry.)

references

Marieb, E. N. (2004). Human Anatomy and Physiology (Sixth ed.). San Francisco, CA: Pearson Benjamin Cummings. Allen, C., & 

Harper, V. (2006). Cat Dissection: A Laboratory Guide. Hoboken, NJ: Wiley. “Abdomen.” Abdomen Anatomy, Area & Diagram | Body Maps Healthline Media, 25 Oct. 2014. Web. 28 Nov. 2016. 

diagrams and labels

human neck: 

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1WRoBZGrsWLZU9qdzdRMEwzX00/view

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1WRoBZGrsWLRy05ZlQxRmY2bFE/view

cat neck: 

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1WRoBZGrsWLbWFLeUpDWTVGd1E/view

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1WRoBZGrsWLQkgxQjNTYzlKS2c/view?usp=sharing

human chest: 

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1WRoBZGrsWLT1RGLWp6NHR5dW8/view

cat chest: 

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1WRoBZGrsWLQlJuOFFQbVpBRUU/view

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1WRoBZGrsWLXzkwQ25FR25rQkU/view?usp=sharing

cat leg muscles: 

it’s a video. (the word video is linked.)

(this is probably the worst grade yet.)