#castiel angel with the shot gun

[jaysweirdart]

im not original and this most definitely has been made a billion times but fuck you

[ultravi0lence14]

Only Angel

dean winchester x angel!reader

1.9k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: dean winchester needed a little clarity in his life, and you were just his only angel to do it.

dean watched as you sat on the sidewalk in front of the motel, back hunched and eyes raking over the passages in a book sam had given you. he could see the angelic side of you clear as day, but that could’ve just been dean admiring your pretty features.

around a year ago, when dean was taken out of hell and met the angel castiel, he and his brother learned that cas wasn’t the only angel who decided to touch down to earth. you followed behind cas like a confused puppy, looking at earth and all the things you’d only heard about in passing from different angels.

you were always catching dean’s attention. whether it be the way you just sat and stared sometimes, hands placed in your lap and eyes vacant like there was no thought behind them. but somehow, dean knew that you were thinking about heaven. you had rebelled just like cas, and he could see it on your face that those human emotions were starting to take a tole on you.

when he found you one night sitting per usual, dean couldn’t stop himself from gently grabbing your arm and leading you to the small field behind the motel. there, he instructed you to look up, showing you all the stars in the sky and telling you that whenever you missed heaven, just look up, and you can imagine all your brothers and sisters as those little beams of light.

he even tried to tell you that when lightening struck, you could envision it as your brothers and sisters bowling. but all you did was stare at him funny, informing him that angel’s didn’t play any recreational games in heaven.

since that night, you felt drawn to dean. always going to him when you had questions, staying close to him when you and cas were around. dean noticed it too, but he couldn’t find any place in himself where he wanted you to stop.

so the night you appeared to dean in his motel room, not saying a word as you quickly strode over to him and planted your lips on his, dean couldn’t find it in himself to push you away. he tangled his hands in your hair, bringing you close by the small of your back and drinking in the addictive feeling of your lips on his.

the movement of your lips were small and tentative, but dean didn’t seem to care. you being shy and inexperienced added more to the charm you already exuded, and dean loved every bit of it.

you later told him that the reason you kissed him was because that’s what sam told you to do when you felt fluttery feelings in your stomach around someone. dean swore to himself that he’d be owing sam for the rest of his life because of that.

that was all a couple months ago, and now, dean watched as you shifted a strand of hair behind your ear. the black and white striped tank top, alongside the dusty pink skirt that flowed around your thighs made him want to pick you up and take you right there in the back of the impala; but dean didn’t want to rush you, so he fought his self control as best as he could.

a soft sound of feet shuffling against gravel rang through dean’s ears as he leaned over the impala’s hood, tinkering with the gears and wires to make sure everything was okay. he didn’t think much of it, but since his back was facing where you were initially sitting, he had no idea that it was your ballet flat covered feet making all the noise.

“hey dean?” your voice rang from somewhere in front of him, not sparking any questions as he gravelly called out a ��yes baby?’ in response to your ribbon like soft voice. “when are you going to teach me how to use this?”

he lifted his head in surprise, a quizzical look dawning on his face. when he turned and noticed you weren’t sat behind him anymore, he slowly moved his head towards the boot of the impala and watched with shock as you held a shot gun full of rock salt in your arms.

eyes wide, he quickly moved his head from under the hood and rushed over to you with breaths of ‘woah’ under his lips. in an instant, he took it from your hands, ignoring your adorable pouty lips as he placed it back in the trunk. “jesus feather’s, be careful. could’ve taken an eye out.”

you frowned as he simply just walked away, ignoring your original question and moving to the front seat of the impala. “you didn’t answer my question dean.” your feet planted themselves by the opening of the drivers side door. left foot tapping impatiently as you stared intently at dean’s side profile. “i want to learn how to use it.”

dean just chuckled, turning to plant his feet on the gravel and staring into your stoic eyes. instead of dangling by your side, you had your arms crossed over your chest in a defiance of anger. though dean couldn’t help but smile at how adorable you looked.

“i’m not kidding dean!” you basically whined, sending thoughts to dean’s head that he probably shouldn’t be thinking at the moment. “i want to be helpful. my grace can only take me so far.”

with a sigh leaving his lips, dean held back his immediate rebuttal to your argument. he wanted you to feel useful. feel how important you were to him and sam. he just selfishly didn’t want you to be corrupted by all the things that ruined him. you were so pure in your own sense. being able to use your grace to fight was one way you held onto that angelic side of you. he couldn’t bare do that to you.

dean also knew that you wanted to do this. all he could muster to do was grip your waist tightly in his hands and drag your body in between his legs. his arms went up to wrap around your lower back and torso, head tilted upwards so he could look at you through his lashes. you knew he was trying to use his charm and looks to sway you towards his ideas. you felt like a lovesick follow for following his bright green eyes so easily.

“you are helpful in your own ways baby, i hope you know that.” with a grin on his lips, dean stood up and rested his hands low on your ass, giving it a firm tap before kissing your cheek. “though if this is what you want, than get in the car. i have an idea.”

a light squeal left your lips as you reached on your tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on dean’s lips. your feet shuffled around the impala and into the passenger seat, watching as dean slammed the hood of the car down and situated himself behind the wheel. in an instant, he was backing out of the parking lot and speeding down the street.

he turned onto a desolate side street, fields and dirt roads in every direction as the smell of fresh grass wafted through the windows. you looked quizzically out at the scenery, wondering what dean had in mind as his hand rested gently on your upper thigh.

slowly stopping beside an open field, dean got out of the car, watching idly as his angel sat stiff and still in the car. grabbing one of the many hand guns from the trunk, dean opened the passenger side door and chuckled as you stared up at him with wide, curious eyes. “c’mon sweets. i’m gonna teach you how to shoot.”

with an eager and excited smile on your face, you scampered out of the car and flung your arms around dean’s shoulders. peppering many kisses around his face, you joyously mumbled thank you’s into each of your kisses. dean’s laugh reverberated off his chest as you ran off towards the middle of the field, waving him over when you found a good spot.

meeting you where the field took a decline to a hill; showing acres of grass and trees at the bottom, dean slowly handed you the gun as he situated himself behind you. “the first and most important thing to know is how to hold it.” dean snaked his arms around your body as he spoke, arms positioning your own as his hands clutched yours in the perfect position.

“there ya go angel. just like that, you’re doing amazing.” dean’s praise fell deftly onto the shell of your ear, his breath hitting a spot on your neck that made a deep sigh erupt from your throat. dean’s explanation on how to aim and the recoil of some gun’s fell deaf to your ears. all you could feel was his arms wrapped around you, his solid chest pressed to your back as his chin rested on your shoulder. this was too much. and you were starting to wonder if asking dean to fuck you, right now, in the impala’s back seat, was such a bad idea.

“now just put your finger on the trigger.” dean’s words started to register again in your brain, and when you felt him back up a bit and allow you to get into position, you felt the desire you had moments ago be replaced by the overwhelming feeling of learning something new.

dean watched you as you got into position. squaring your shoulders and lifting your arms up in aim as dean relished in how you looked at the moment.

you looked so out of place. so out of your element as you held one of his guns, skirt billowing around your upper thighs in the wind. you looked out of place, but so ethereal. so beautiful in dean’s eyes that he couldn’t believe you chose him.

“is this okay?” your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as you questioned the placement of your arms. dean couldn’t help but move closer to your back again as he looked over your stance.

“yeah lovely, that’s perfect. you’re doin’ amazing.” his words encouraged you to pull the trigger, a loud pop ringing through the air as the bullet whizzed right into the lone beer bottle that dean had grabbed earlier for target practice.

an excited squeak tore from your lips, legs jumping up and down as dean’s arms wrapped around your middle. he swung you around, exclaiming in happiness as you laughed with joy. you did it on your first try, and dean couldn’t be anymore proud.

“look at you baby, that was amazing.” dean’s excitement could be heard through his voice. when he spun you around, the glimmer of pride even sparked in his eyes. “i’m so proud of you, angel, you’ve come so far.” no words came from your mouth. all you could manage was a feeble hug to show your love. dean knew what you were implying, hugging you back twice as hard as his hand smoothed down your hair.

his mouth was by your ear, whispering sweet nothings as you held onto him tightly. with a gentle kiss on his collarbone, you pulled away and grabbed his hand, dragging him back to the car with a happy skip in your step. “c’mon! i wanna go back to the motel and tell sam and cas!”

how could dean say no to his perfect angel? his only angel.

[rainroses45]

If I see one more plant!

𖧧description: You happen to be pregnant with a certain angel's baby, and with great power comes great responsibility... so here is how your powers and hormones give the Winchesters several heart attack...enjoy? Castiel x Pregnant Fem! Reader 𖧧a/n: I am obsessed with poison ivy's powers and so I was like hmmmmm "I should write this" and I did (Not Edited) 𖧧song Inspo: Kiwi - Harry Styles 𖧧warning: uummm none that I know of except maybe that pregnant reader gets emotional a lot BUT CAN YOU BLAME HER SHE IS TRYING HER BEST

The first time your powers went haywire was at a small-town department store when you were four months pregnant. Nothing out of the ordinary, nor the usual places the Winchesters frequented, but after a long hunt, they all decided a little downtime wouldn’t hurt especially since they found out you were pregnant.

The Winchesters had all sorts of equipment-guns, knives, books, *cough cough* trauma- but booster seats, cribs, and diapers, not so much. So with that in mind, they didn't argue when you dragged them out to different department stores.

Sam was poking around the electronics section ( his computer screen was stuck on busty asian beauties. com again), Dean was trying on a ridiculous-looking novelty hat, and you were wandering the aisles, following a trail of pink and blue onesies, cute little shoes, and soft blankets.

You hadn’t been feeling emotional at all that morning—really, you hadn’t. The pregnancy was going well, the baby was healthy, and you had Castiel by your side. What could go wrong?

Then, you spotted it: a tiny pair of shoes. They were so small and cute, pink with little flowers on them. Your heart absolutely melted.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, your eyes going wide. “They’re just… they’re so tiny! And adorable! Oh my god, what if… what if they… the baby wears them, and I'm having a little baby girl! Oh look they have them in blue too and—and… I just can’t handle this!”

Dean, who had been half-heartedly inspecting a display of bizarre looking mannequins, turned at the sound of your voice. “What the hell is going on over there?”

Before anyone could answer, you started tearing up. Big, dramatic, teary-eyed sobs as your emotions got the best of you. “It’s so cute! This is so cute! OMG why is everything here so cute?!”

Castiel, who had been silently standing by, watching the situation unfold, immediately stepped forward, his face softening in concern. “Y/N, sweetheart, it’s okay. Just… breathe. I understand the tiny items are cute.”

But it was too late for your boyfriend's soft words to soothe you. Your powers had already started to react to the uncontrollable emotions. Tiny flowers began sprouting from the ground beneath your feet. They were delicate little blooms—daisies, roses, violets—pushing through the cracked, textile floor. The flowers spread out around you, their sweet fragrance filling the air, and color overshadowing the cute clothing.

Dean, who had been watching you with a mix of confusion and curiosity, with a hint of amusement, quickly turned to Sam. “Okay, this I did not sign up for.”

Sam was trying to hold back his laughter, but when a single daisy bloomed in the middle of his shoe, he couldn’t help it. “Dude, you’re telling me you didn’t think this would happen? She’s practically the real life poison ivy!”

Dean shot Sam a glare. “Not the point, Sammy. We need to figure out how to fix this before we turn this store into the weirdest garden party ever.”

Meanwhile, while the boys were observing the weird scenario happening some people also were starting to notice. A lady in the aisle who was eyeing the chupones (I don't know what this is called in English sorry) next to you was giving you a curious look, unsure whether she should be worried or mental.

“Uh, hey, ma’am,” Dean said, stepping into her line of sight with a big grin. “Nothing to see here. Just, uh, a bit of… plant therapy going on.” He flashed a grin, trying to divert her attention.

The woman blinked at him, her eyes darting between Dean and the flowers. “Are you… sure? I mean how did the flowers appear out of no where? I mean isn't that a bit odd?”

Sam noticing his brother struggling with getting the lady away from the scene, stepped in, “Oh yeah, it’s totally normal. She’s just… you know, super into horticulture. All natural, totally organic stuff.”

“Yeah, you know,” Dean added with a wink, having no idea what the hell was horticulture was. “Just don’t touch the plants. Some of them bite- fuck." Dean cursed under his breath as he was too late catch his mistake.

The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly questioning if she’d accidentally stumbled into a strange dimension or if this was all just an elaborate joke. “I see…” She backed away slowly, nervously laughing while she looked around hoping to see a video camera or something.

Cas on the other hand was doing his best to calm you down. He crouched beside you, gently taking your hands in his, his gaze soft yet filled with concern.

“Y/N, sweetheart, listen to me,” he said in his steady, calming tone. “I know it’s overwhelming, but you need to control your breathing. Focus on me, okay?”

You wiped your tears, sniffling, still a little overwhelmed by the sheer cuteness of the tiny shoes. “But Cas… What if I mess up? What if I’m not a good mom? What if… what if the baby doesn’t like flowers?What if the baby doesn't like the shoes I get them? What if they don't like me? What if I-”

Castiel’s eyes softened even more as he took a deep breath, leaning forward to gently press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re already doing wonderfully. The baby will love whatever you give it—because it will have you. You’ll be perfect.”

You took a shaky breath, your tears subsiding as his words sank in. Slowly, you wiped your tears which seemed to be the same effect of brushing the flowers away from your feet, watching as they melted back into the ground, leaving behind only the faintest trace of green.

Dean and Sam returned to your side, looking almost relieved the situation was under control.

Dean let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Okay, that was fun… but if I ever see a store more than five feet away from a hunt again, I’m gonna have to rethink my life choices.”

Sam chuckled softly. “What, you don’t like shopping with us?”

“I don’t mind it,” Dean said with a grin, “but the next time I see any more flowers in this place, I’m throwing a fit.”

You managed a small laugh as you wiped your eyes, the overwhelming emotions still there but a little easier to manage now. “Thanks, guys. I think I’m okay now. But… seriously, I’m never going near baby shoes again.”

Castiel smiled at you, offering a hand to help you back up. “Perhaps we should just stick to something a bit more practical next time?”

You nodded, still feeling a little sheepish. “Yeah, maybe… like, I don’t know, diapers?”

Dean smirked. “I’m all for the diapers. Less flowers, more action.”

The second time it was a quiet morning, and the everyone had decided to take a much-needed break from hunting. After a long few weeks of tracking down monsters, a little downtime at a cozy diner seemed perfect. You, being six months pregnant, were very excited about food. And when you’d glanced at the menu and seen pancakes, you didn’t hold back. You ordered everything—pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, and just about every side dish they had to offer. You were starving. Nothing was going to get in your way between you and your maple syrup.

You slid into the booth with Dean and Sam, Castiel sitting beside you on the opposite end of the brothers. He did look a little out of place in the cozy diner with his trench coat still on, but so did a pregnant lady wearing a Bluey onesie, and two other guys in cowboy outfits.

The brothers were already halfway through their coffee, talking about the next hunt, but your mind was purely focused on the delicious serving of food coming your way.

Dean glanced at you with an amused grin. “You really going to eat all that, or is that just for show?”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on your lips. “I’m pregnant, Dean. I feel like I just ordered an appetizer. Do not judge me.”

Sam laughed softly. “ Leave her alone Dean, she is carrying an angel's baby and a superpowered one at that. Let the girl eat whatever she wants."

Dean just shook his head. “Well, just don’t blame me when you can’t move after. I didn’t order the mountain of food.”

Just as you were about to playfully strangle Dean, the waitress brought over your huge order, but something was off. You had your eggs, you had your bacon, waffles, omelet, but something was missing. There was a stack of pancakes for Sam, a stack of pancakes for Dean, and a stack of pancakes for Cas— everyone got fluffy stack of pancakes except for you.

“Hey,” you said, frowning at the waitress. “Excuse me Miss, where are my pancakes?”

The waitress blinked, clearly flustered. “Oh! I’m so sorry, ma’am. I’ll get them right out for you.” She hurried away not before giving you a smile.

You sighed, staring at your plate, which now had way too many waffles and not enough pancakes. You pouted slightly. “I really wanted those pancakes…”

Castiel, who had been silently observing, stood up with his usual determination. “I will go get them for you, my beloved Y/N.” He headed toward the counter before anyone could stop him, his eyes already focused on the task at hand.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Cas, relax. It’s not like it’s a big deal—”

But before he could finish his sentence, two women seated by the counter noticed Castiel, eyes widening as they took in his rugged, angelic demeanor. They exchanged a quick glance, their faces lighting up with interest.

One of them, bold and confident, immediately stood up and walked toward him. “Hey there, handsome,” she said, flashing a playful smile. “I couldn’t help but notice… you’re not from around here. What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

Castiel, oblivious to the subtleties of anytype of human interactions, blinked in confusion. “I am simply retrieving pancakes for my girlfriend.”

The woman laughed, clearly not getting the hint. “Oh, you have a girlfriend? That’s cute." She dragged her freshly done nails over his chest. "But I bet she’d let you have a little fun, right?”

You, sitting back at the booth, started to feel that familiar irritation rise up, and your fingers twitched. Maybe a little too much.

Before you could stop it, the ground beneath you began to tremble slightly, and tiny cacti started sprouting from the floor, little spinky plants pushing up through the checkered text tiles and spreading outward. A few even shot out from the booth’s cushions, their thorns digging into the fabric around you.

Dean and Sam exchanged a panicked glance, both of them groaning in unison. “Not again,” Sam muttered, rubbing his temples.

Dean just sighed, glancing over at the growing cactus problem. “I swear, Cas better wrap this up before we turn this place into the weirdest garden party.... again!”

You were too far gone to notice their worried glances. Every little flirtatious giggle from the women sent your emotions spiraling, and more and more cacti grew—thick, spinky, sharp, cacti. There were even a few sprouting from nearby tables and counters, causing customers to take wide-eyed steps back.

The women, realizing that Castiel wasn’t giving them the attention they wanted, glanced around nervously. They tried to get a little closer to him, but he was still looking at them with that same confused expression.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a frown, “but I am in a committed relationship with my amazing, gorgeous girlfriend, and we are expecting a child together. I cannot- no I will not accept your advances because I find your lack of beauty and personality disgusting. So please let me return back to my girlfriend, or I will have to fry your face.”

The women blinked, their smiles faltering. “Oh… uh, I didn’t know you were expecting,” one of them said, her voice wavering. “Well, uh, congratulations, I guess… sorry to bother you.” They quickly backed away, clearly embarrassed, but your plant-related meltdown was far from over. A faint whispers of, "please don't kill us."

"Asshats." Cas muttered as he watched the two ladies walk away, patches of Cactus sticking out of their skin.

Dean and Sam rushed over to your side of the booth and tried calming you down. Sam immediately started pushing the closest cactus plant down into the ground. “Please, Y/N, just calm down! We’ll get your pancakes! We’ll get everything you want!”

Dean took the opposite approach, shoving a plate of his own pancakes toward you, trying to distract you. “Here! Just have mine! Pancakes! See? Everything’s fine!”

You looked at both of them, your eyes wide with irritation as another cactus popped up in the middle of the table. “I don’t want your pancakes, Dean! I want my own pancakes! I want my own boyfriend! I want my loyal boyfriend to bring me pancakes!”

More cacti began sprouting around the booth, some growing from the floor, while others were now tangled between the chairs. Sam was frantically trying to push them back down, his face a mix of exhaustion and exasperation. “Why is she always so persistent when it comes to the plants?! Why couldn’t she just shoot a man like the rest of us?!”

Dean held up his hands, trying to calm you down. “Okay, okay. No need to start a whole desert in here. Cas! Tell her we’re fine. Tell her you already turned down the STD whores!”

Castiel returned to the table, completely unaware of the level of destruction the plants had caused. He placed the pancakes in front of you, a serene smile on his face. “Here you go, beautiful. Your pancakes, I even got them with whip cream.” He placed a kiss on your head. "Would you like me to cut them up for you?"

You took a deep breath as you reached for your pancakes, but you couldn’t help but smile at him even as you felt like you were going to twist his guys inside and out. He’d turned the girls down. And so calmly, too. It was like it wasn’t even a second thought.

Dean and Sam were still working together to keep plants from growing into the booth’s walls. Sam was pushing one of the cacti down, while Dean was shoving another out the door, his eyes twitching with disbelief.

“Guys, I swear,” Dean muttered, “if I have to fight off one more cactus, I’m getting the hell out of here.”

“You’re lucky we’re not going to die from these plants,” Sam grumbled, attempting to swat at a rogue vine that had started climbing up a nearby window.

You laughed softly, the last of the cacti finally retracting as you calmed down. You were feeling better, but now the diner was definitely looking a lot more like a desert garden. “Sorry, guys. I just… I couldn’t help it.”

Castiel smiled down at you, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. “It’s alright, darling. I would never allow anyone to take my attention from you.”

You smiled, feeling a little sheepish. “Thanks, Cas. You really handled that well.”

Dean and Sam, clearly exhausted from the plant chaos, collapsed back into the booth with you, still eyeing the last few cacti with suspicion.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Dean said, eyeing the growing cactus garden with disbelief. “Next time, we’re sticking to delivery pizza, okay? No more pancakes, no more plants.”

The third time seemed to be no different. It was another quiet morning on the road. The Impala had made a pit stop at a gas station, and the Winchesters, along with Castiel, were inside grabbing snacks and supplies. You were trying to hold it together, but being six months pregnant made everything a little… well, more difficult. You’d been looking forward to getting out of the car and stretching your legs, but the moment you stepped out of the car, you felt the weight of your growing belly.

It had taken a toll on your body. With new stretch marks, and odd cramps and cravings, you didn’t expect to out grow your clothing so fast.

Inside the convenience store, you were eyeing some snacks when Sam, in his usual well-meaning but oblivious way, made the comment that would unintentionally set things off.

“Y/N,” Sam said, glancing up from the bag of chips he was holding, “I think you should get bigger pants or something. I mean, it might help you feel more comfortable, you know? I don’t want you to strain yourself or the baby.” He smiled, thinking the simple hardships of the beginning of motherhood would be appreciated by the soft comfort of jeggings.

You froze. The words hit you harder than Sam could’ve known. Of course, you were aware of your growing belly, but you weren’t expecting to be reminded of it so bluntly (it was no where close to being blunt). You gave him a tight smile, but inside, it stung.

Dean noticed the shift in your mood almost immediately. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, voice low and concerned.

But before Sam could even register the impact of his words, you felt the anger and hurt bubbling up inside you. The next thing anyone knew, thick vines began sprouting up around you, twisting and curling out from the ground, wrapping themselves tightly around Sam’s legs, his arms, and even his waist. He froze, eyes wide in shock as the plants continued to tighten around him.

“Y/N, what the hell?!” Sam gasped, struggling against the vines. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

Dean stepped forward, panic rising in his voice. “No, no, not again—come on, Y/N, you gotta calm down.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a can of weed repellent, spraying it in the air in an attempt to keep the plants at bay. “I knew this would come in handy.”

But no matter how much Dean sprayed, the vines didn’t seem to back off. Sam was now fully encased in a web of thick, green vines that pulled tighter with every second, making it hard for him to move.

“Y/N, please—I didn’t mean it that way!” Sam was practically pleading now, his voice muffled by the plant growth surrounding him.

Dean, frantic and trying to get to you, turned to Castiel. “Cas, help! She’s gone full jungle, and Sam’s about to become plant food!”

Cas, who had been silently observing the whole thing with wide eyes, turned to you with a soft, comforting expression. “Aww, sweetheart, it’s okay. He didn’t mean to upset you.”

Dean shot Cas a look, as if to say, Are you kidding me right now?

“It’s not okay,” Dean snapped. “Cas, help me! We’re running out of weed repellent, and Sam is literally about to get swallowed by the vines!”

“Those are actually not weeds they are-“ “They could be dancing salsa beans for all I care help me!”

Castiel looked at Dean for a moment, before turning his attention back to you. He took a slow step toward you, his voice gentle. “Y/N, I know you’re upset, but it’s okay. Sam didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You were still angry, but hearing Cas’ calm tone seemed to ease the tension a little. The vines wrapped around Sam loosened, just slightly, but it was enough for him to gasp for air. “I swear, I didn’t mean anything by it, Y/N. Please… I just thought you might be more comfortable, that’s all. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings I’m so sorry.”

You glanced at Sam, then to Castiel, who was smiling softly at you. The reassurance in his voice had a calming effect, but the vines—now with a mind of their own—had a different idea. They snapped back at Sam one last time, tightening around his chest, almost as if to say, this is what happens when you mess with my girl.

Dean, now frantically spraying more weed repellent, hissed, “Cas, please do something! We’re losing Sam to the vines!”

Castiel stepped closer to you, his hand gently resting on your arm. “Y/N, honey, just breathe. Everything’s fine. Sam didn’t know how his words affected you.”

Dean, now out of repellent, was genuinely losing his patience. “Cas, seriously, do something! He’s gonna get tangled in the damn plants forever if you don’t!”

You took a deep breath, the vines finally relaxing around Sam, though he was still stuck. You raised an eyebrow at Dean’s frantic expression, your anger dissipating into something more mischievous.

“Oh sorry,” you said, your tone finally softening. “I’m sorry Sam, I just- I don’t know what came over me it’s been hard controlling everything you know?” The vines retreated slowly, leaving Sam tangled up in a few stray leaves, looking slightly defeated.

Dean let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Thank God. If I had to deal with you two and the plants much longer, I was about to set the whole diner on fire.”

Sam, now free of most of the vines, shot you a sheepish look. “No it’s my fault. Sorry, really. I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. But I guess I should’ve worded that differently.”

You finally gave him a small smile, the tension breaking. “It’s okay, Sam. I’m sorry for letting my powers get the best out of me. It’s hard to tell wether it’s the baby or me who’s in control.”

Dean threw up his hands, looking exasperated. “It’s not okay! You almost turned this place into Jurassic Park! We can’t keep dealing with this every time you get upset!”

Cas, with his trademark calm demeanor, reached over to gently rub your back. “It’s alright, sweetheart. You just need to know it’s okay to express your feelings.”

You smiled at him, grateful for the comfort.

Dean rubbed his temples, clearly exhausted from the ordeal. “I swear, if I have to fight one more damn plant, I’m gonna lose it.”

“Don’t worry, Dean,” you said, laughing softly, “I think we’re done with the plants for now.”

Dean shot a glare at the nearest cactus sprout. “Yeah, well, let’s hope so.”

*Cue the meme*

Dean after not seeing a plant  incident

“wow i haven’t stubbed my toe in 5 months” I said with joyous

(you go into labor and cause a whole rainforest)

I was then shot 57 times in the chest

[deerlysacred]

✧ patching what's left of us | end!verse dean winchester x witch fem!reader ᨒ↟ | chapter one

💌 𝄢 no tw, just castiel being a silly lil guy and a tiny angst towards the end 🪽

♫ 𝄢 concept song : would that i — hozier ₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

🌜𝄢 in this version of series of mine, it has been 2 years since the croatoan virus messed the world up. also yes, the world is in a very bad situation but it's not as bad as the show version. there are multiple survival camps in the world and the croatoans are not that much.

gang… i know this is a series for dean but i halfway started to want cas more… idk 🤨 anyways, #stanthemis 🫶🏻

english is not my mother tongue and i wrote the last half part of this very sleepy lol i'm sorry if i made some grammar mistakes. i hope you like it!! it won't be a very long series but i plan to make a few chapters 💕

The door creaked open loudly, letting in a gust of icy wind that rattled the loose panes of the cabin windows. The blond man looked up from the map spread across Bobby's old desk, his jaw set, green eyes narrowing under the weight of another sleepless night. He was nursing a half-empty bottle of whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing lazily as he swirled it in his hand.

"Boss," one of his men announced, pushing you forward. "Found her out past the south perimeter. Alone. Didn't look like trouble."

The man set the bottle down with a thunk, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn't say anything at first, just dragged his eyes over you like he was trying to peel back your skin and see what was hiding underneath. Then he made his men go out with a nod of his head.

"Great," he muttered eventually when you two were alone, letting out a humorless laugh. "Another mouth to feed." His voice was rough, worn down by years of barking orders and screaming at ghosts that didn't scream back. "Kinda impressive, considering most folks out there are croats or corpses. What, you got a guardian angel, or are you just stupid lucky?"

The man didn't wait for an answer— it looked like he rarely does. He took a swig of whiskey, eyeing you like you were a puzzle missing half the pieces. "Name's Dean. Yeah, that Dean. And if you're not infected, congrats. You just won yourself a room in Camp Chitaqua." His voice dropped, darkening. "Don't make me regret it."

He observed you with a look that made the cabin room feel smaller than it was.

"So," he spoke, voice low and gravelly. "You got a name you mind to share, or should I just call you 'the new gal'?"

"Y/N." you muttered, shifting on your feet under his doubtful gaze.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Y/N.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Now, the next question, Y/N. How the hell'd you manage to survive out there on your own?"

Your hands fidgeted with the frayed edges of your sleeves.

Careful, you warned yourself, don't be suspicious.

"I… I got lucky." you bit your tongue subtly because of your stammer, not a great start.

Dean didn't buy it. His eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. "Yeah? Guess we'll see how lucky you really are."

Then his gaze dropped to your wrist.

Shit.

Before you could react, he stood up and walked to you in a few big steps, his hand shot out, grabbing your arm in an iron grip. His fingers burned against your cold skin as he yanked your sleeve up, exposing the tattoo you tried so hard to keep hidden. The triskelion and crescent moon stood out like a brand against your wrist.

Dean's eyes darkened, recognition passing in an instant.

"Son of a bitch." His voice was a growl as he shoved you back towards the timeworn couch behind, you gasped as you sat down, his hand already pulling a gun from his thigh-holster. The cold barrel pressed against the middle of your forehead, making you flinch.

"Wisteria Coven," he spat. "You wanna tell me why the hell you got this burned into your skin?"

Your mind started to race, you could swear your heart was going to jump out. You've seen that look countless times before. Disgust, anger, prjudgement, fea— No, not fear. More like precaution, this time. He wasn't just suspicious of you now. He knew what that symbol meant. Witches. Magic. Danger.

"I left them," you whispered, your voice cracking. "I'm not with them anymore."

Dean's grip tightened, and you could feel the muzzle pressing harder on your skin. "Yeah? You expect me to believe that? You've got five seconds to explain why I shouldn't gank you right here."

Your lips parted, trembling slightly as you spoke. "Please," you gulped, tears stinging your eyes. "I'm alone. They're dead. I didn't have a choice. Please— I'm not like them. I just want to live…"

Dean's finger hovered dangerously close to the trigger. He didn't move, didn't even blink as he stared into your eyes, searching for any hint of a lie or a fucked up trick.

I'm going to die.

It was all you could think. After everything you've been through and managed to survive somehow, this was how it would end.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Dean cursed under his breath. "Goddammit." he muttered, lowering the gun.

You let out a shaky breath, you raised your hands, showing no threat as you stood up slowly.

Oh, okay… He's not going to kill me. Not yet.

Dean shoved the gun back into his thigh-holster. "Fine," he said, voice cold. "But hear me, and hear me good— if you so much as think about casting some freaky-ass spell with your pretty little head, you're dead. No hesitation."

You nodded quickly, fidgeting with your fingers. "I won't. I swear."

Dean shot you one more look, like he was trying to read your mind. Then he shook his head. "You better not if you don't want me to open a hole on you."

He turned away, rubbing a hand over his face before grabbing a flashlight from the desk. "Come on," he said gruffly. "We ain't got any empty tents. And leaving you outside… Yeah, no. Not with the horny bastards out there."

You followed him silently, your heart still racing. You could feel the weight of the tattoo on your wrist like it was your death warrant.

I should've cut it off. I should've get rid of it somehow.

Dean led the way up the stairs, his boots thudding heavily on the creaking wood. "You can stay in one of the rooms up here," he said, flashing the light down a dim hallway. "Bathroom's at the end of the hall. Don't touch my stuff. Don't wander around. And don't—"

"Cast spells..?" You finished for him, the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips.

Dean shot you a look over his shoulder, his lips twitching in what might’ve (?) been a smirk. "Smartass." He jerked his chin toward a door. "That one’s yours. Get some sleep. You’re gonna need it."

You cracked your eyes open with the occasional talking of people outside and the singing of the birds, your breath fogging in the chill of the room. You blinked up at the ceiling, letting the silence settle around you for a moment.

Last night had been... intense, you really thought that leader was gonna blow your head off but he had a tiny bit of mercy, seemingly. It was gonna be real hard to convince him that you're trustworthy though...

But hey, at least you were alive, right? That was something.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, your bare feet pressing into the worn floorboards. The clothes you found in the closet last night —a pair of jeans and a faded black sweater— fit well enough, though they smelled faintly of dust and men's cologne. You took a shower in the cramped bathroom before you went to bed last night, scrubbing away days of mud and blood.

Your eyes drifted to the window. The camp was waking up.

Guess I should figure out what I'm supposed to do here.

"Dean?" you called softly, stepping out into the hallway. Silence.

Of course, he wasn't here. He seemed like the kind of man who woke with the dawn— or maybe never really slept at all. You bit your lip, debating your next move.

You needed a jacket before heading outside.

Your gaze lingered on a closed door down the hall. Dean's room.

Hell, no. You shook your head. Bad idea. You weren't that stupid to snoop around his stuff. So instead, you wandered into a smaller room that looked like storage. There were chests and boxes piled high, many of them covered in dust. You knelt down, popping open a large chest in the corner. Your fingers sifted through blankets, some old clothes, until something caught your eye— a worn brown hoodie.

It was big, way too big for you, but the fabric was soft, and it smelled clean. You pulled it on, the hem reaching past your hips, the sleeves covering your hands.

Cozy, good enough.

You stepped outside, squinting against the crowded part of the camp. People were already moving around, tending to tasks and chores. You stood there awkwardly, watching them. Some nodded in her direction, but most seemed too busy to care.

Your eyes wandered to a tent with a small fire burning outside of it. A metal pot sat over the flames, steam curling from its spout. Coffee. Your mouth watered at the sight of it.

You approached shyly, feeling like an intruder, but no one seemed to stop you. You grabbed a freshly cleaned metal cup from a stack on the table and poured yourself some of the bitter liquid. The warmth of the cup against your hands was comforting, there was no sight of any food or anything like that near. You must've missed the breakfast, it seemed like you were stuck with coffee.

Better than nothing.

You walked around the camp, observing the layout. There were rows of tents, a few makeshift shelters, and the large cabin you were staying in with Dean. The air smelled of smoke and damp earth. It was quieter than you expected— almost peaceful.

As you passed by a woman and a man chatting near one of the tents, you couldn't help but to listen to their words.

"Dean's already out?" the woman asked.

"Left before dawn," the man replied. "Supply run into the city. The winter is doing its number on us again, nothing new."

Your stomach clenched. Great. He's not here to keep an eye on me… or maybe that's worse. How the hell am I going to prove that I'm not a burden now? I could at least ask him about the ways I could help around here…

You were so lost in thought that you didn't see the small hole in the ground until it was too late. Your boot caught, and you stumbled forward, barely catching yourself before you fell.

The woman and man stopped talking, their eyes snapping to you directly. You straightened, pretending to brush dirt from your jeans with panic though you didn't even touch the floor.

"Uh— sorry…" you muttered, embarrassed. The man raised an eyebrow, and the woman gave a small, amused smile. Neither said anything, though, and you quickly turned on your heel, walking away.

What a great first impression.

Your hand brushed against the hot coffee cup, and you winced as you realized now, that a few drops of coffee must've been poured onto your hand when you stumbled. "Shit…" you hissed, shaking out your fingers.

Eventually, you found yourself near a large tree at the edge of the camp. The branches stretched wide, providing shade and a place to sit. You sank down at the base of the tree with a sigh, finally letting yourself relax.

"Seriously?" a voice came from the other side of the tree suddenly, making you jump. "Can't a man spend some quality time alone with his buddy at the end of the world?"

You scrambled to your feet, heart pounding. You peered around the tree to find a man sitting cross-legged on the ground, a small squirrel perched on his lap. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and his eyes were piercing blue, looking up at you with a calm amusement.

"Oh— I didn't mean to interrupt," You stammered, taking a step back. "Shall I… go?"

The man chuckled, shaking his head. "No need. Sit." He patted the ground next to him. "I'm not gonna bite. Neither is she." He held the tiny paw of the squirrel and made it wave at you, making the squirrel turn its attention towards you as it was focused on eating a peanut seconds ago.

You smiled at the cute scene, hesitating before lowering yourself back down, keeping a distance. The squirrel watched you with curious eyes, its tiny paws still clutching the peanut.

"You're new here," the man said, his voice soft but steady. "What's your name?"

You hugged the hoodie tighter as a breeze came along, answering softly. "Y/N."

"I'm Castiel,” the man said after a moment. He offered you a hand. "And this—" he gestured to the squirrel— "is Themis."

You frowned as you shook his hand, noting the strength in his grip. "Themis? Like… the goddess?"

Castiel's lips quirked into a faint smile. "Yes. The goddess of justice."

You glanced at the squirrel, who seemed far more interested in nibbling on its food than… dispensing justice.

Castiel chuckled knowingly, eager to talk about his little buddy. "She brought me justice once."

You tilted your head, curious. "How so?"

"Someone stole my bag of nuts one day," Castiel explained. "I didn't notice until I saw her dragging the bag back to me." He paused, stroking Themis's fur. "She carried it all the way across camp, like a tiny Lady Justice. She brought it back to me— every last one."

You smirked as you glanced at the squirrel, then back at Castiel. "Or she stole them for herself and felt bad about it."

Castiel chuckled. "Could be."

You couldn't help the quiet laugh that escaped your lips, the tension in your shoulders easing just a bit. Sitting there with Castiel and Themis felt so normal and peaceful despite the chaos of your world.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over Camp Chitaqua. You wiped the sweat from your brow, leaning on your shovel as you surveyed the area. You've spent hours cleaning up the trash, clearing leaves, and dragging fallen branches away from the main paths.

Themis, Castiel's squirrel, had been darting around your feet for the past hour, playfully chasing the movement of the shovel as if it were a game. Every time you dug into the ground, the little creature scurried after it, its fluffy tail flicking in excitement.

"Shoo…" You murmured, trying to gently nudge Themis away with your boot. "You're gonna get hurt."

But Themis was energetic and determined. She darted in closer, pouncing at the dirt you were moving.

This squirrel is relentless.

You shifted your grip on the shovel and swung it to scoop up more debris— only to feel a soft thud against the wood.

"Oh, shit." you dropped the shovel immediately, your eyes wide.

Themis let out a startled squeak and stumbled backward, her little body shaking.

"I'm so sorry!" you knelt down quickly, reaching out a hand. "Are you okay?"

From across the camp, Castiel's head snapped up. His conversation with a pair of women —who were clearly charmed by him— ended abruptly as he ran over.

"Themis!" he gasped, dropping to his knees beside the squirrel. He gently scooped her up, cradling her in his hands like she was a baby. "Are you hurt, my little goddess?"

You bit your lip, guilt flooding your chest. "I didn't mean to— she was playing with the shovel, and I—"

Castiel held up a hand, silencing you. He inspected Themis carefully before letting out a dramatic sigh of relief. "She's fine."

You let out a breath you haven't realized you were holding. "Thank god."

Castiel glanced at you with a playful smirk. "Themis is forgiving, but the goddess of justice does not forget. Karma will come for you soon enough."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his theatrics. "I'll keep that in mind."

As Castiel set Themis down gently on the ground, a low rumble echoed through the camp. You glanced towards the entrance, where three large black jeeps rolled in, their tires kicking up dust.

The vehicles came to a stop, and men began piling out, carrying bags and crates of supplies.

Dean was the last to step out, his green eyes scanning the camp as he ran a hand through his hair. His expression was hard and tired.

Before he could take two steps, the woman who saw you stumble earlier in the morning marched towards him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Dean," she snapped, "you could've told me you were heading to the city. I would've come with you."

Dean gave her a glance, his jaw tightening. "Not now, Risa."

"But—"

"I said, not now." His tone left no room for argument.

Risa huffed in frustration but didn't push further.

Dean continued walking, giving instructions to the men unloading supplies. His gaze swept over the camp, and then it landed on you.

He froze mid-step.

You shifted nervously, your shovel still in hand.

Dean's eyes darkened as they locked onto the brown hoodie you were wearing, for a moment, shock flickered across his face.

Then came the anger.

His jaw clenched, and he stormed towards you, eyes narrowing as he closed the distance.

"Y/N," he called out, voice sharp.

Your heart pounded as he towered over you.

"Where the hell did you get that?!" he demanded, voice low yet barely hiding the rage behind it.

You blinked. "I—I needed something warm, so I found this in the storage room—"

"That's not storage." Dean's voice was sharp, like a blade cutting through the air between you. "That's my house."

Your stomach dropped. "I didn't mean to—"

"Did you snoop around?" His voice rose, drawing attention from a few nearby people. "Did you go through my stuff?"

"No!" You shook your head quickly. "I just needed a jacket. I swear I didn't touch anything else."

Dean's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His gaze flicked back to the hoodie, and for a brief moment, something raw flashed in his eyes— pain, maybe, or grief.

It wasn't just a hoodie.

It belonged to someone.

Someone who mattered a lot to him.

Dean took a step closer, looking down at you coldly. His voice dropped to a growl. "Don't. Go. In. My house. Ever. Again."

You swallowed hard, nodding. "Okay. I'm sorry."

Dean stared at you for a long moment before letting out a frustrated sigh. Without a word, he turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving you standing there, confused and humiliated.

Castiel wandered over, his hands in his pockets.

"Don't take it personally," he said, offering you a sympathetic smile. "Dean… carries a lot of baggage."

You glanced down at the hoodie you were wearing, your fingers brushing over the worn fabric. Your bottom lip quivered as you nodded, trying not to cry because of guilt. You felt Castiel's arm wrapping around your shoulder hesitantly, he patted your back gently to soothe you.

"Karma," he said softly, tilting his head towards Themis, who was jumping around his boots. "It works fast."

You gave him a weak chuckle, but inside, your chest felt tight.

I shouldn't be here.

[fandomtherapy44]

Castiel x reader Chapter 16

Summary: SEASON 5 WHOOOO!!!!!!!! LET's GO! So I am so excited for this season so many great episodes. There are going to be a lot more Cas and Y/n scenes. And more chapters too. I do recommend that you read my first book so you get the full Y/n Winchester build-up. Okay with out further due enjoy the second book of Love War and Grace.

Paring: Castiel x reader

word count: 4.4k

Warnings: Some language, Typical Supernatural violence, Spoilers for season five of Supernatural, Guns

AN/ Hey Ya'll so I did notice that it's been a month since I've updated this series sorry for that. This is the longest I've written in a while so that's part of the reason why it took so long. Anywho hope you enjoy especially Cas's and Y/n Renion.

Chapter 16: Good God Ya'll

POV: Y/n “Alright, it looks like you can go home.” The doctor said while putting her supplies away. “Great thanks doc.” She stops and seems to peer into my soul. “You know I have never seen a heart attack like yours I mean you're twenty-four, fit, don’t smoke it just doesn’t make sense.” Yeah I know but it's not like I can tell her that Angels exist and that they all pretty much hate me. “Uh yeah crazy.” I walked to the door. “You must have a guardian Angel.”  She jokily said. Oh, you have no idea.

I stepped into Bobby’s doorway to his room he was in his wheelchair just staring out the window. “Hey, what did the Doc say?” Sam asked me. “All good thanks to Cas.” Speaking of him where the Hell is he. Dean comes to us carrying an envelope. “It's been like three days now?” Sam and I both sighed. “We got to cheer him up. Maybe I'll give him a backrub.” “Dean” Again Sam and I both said. “Look...we might have to wrap our heads around the idea that Bobby might not just bounce back this time.” I mean he’s right this kind of news you don't just get drunk and forget about it.

“What's in the envelope?” I nod at the paper. “Went to radiology.” He pulls out the X-ray. “Got some glamour shots.” It was his ribs and it had Enochian engraved in his bones. “Is that why I feel like I have the worst heartburn ever.” I pointed to the picture. “Yup, curtsy of Cas apparently no demon or Angel can find us” Okay does not mean him too? Then Sam’s phone rings. “Hello? ...Castiel?” CASTIEL! “Speak of the devil.” “Ah, St. Martin's Hospital. Why? What are you—Cas?” Cas had hung up on Sam. And the Angel walks up to us. “Castiel…” I just got lost in my thoughts staring at him.

“Y/n I'm glad to see that you're doing well.” That’s it! He must have something on his mind. “Cell phone, Cas? Really? Since when do angels need to reach out and touch someone?” Dean questioned. “You're hidden from angels now—all angels. I won't be able to simply—” He tried to explain. “Enough foreplay.” Bobby announced from his chair. “Get over here and lay your damn hands on.” “I can't.” What? “Say again?” He spun in his chair.

“I'm cut off from heaven and much of heaven's power. Certain things I can do. Certain things I can't.” What about me then? “You're telling me you lost your mojo just in time to get me stuck in this trap the rest of my life?” I can see Castiel is sad that he can’t help. “I'm sorry.” “Shove it up your ass.” I feel terrible for Cas and Bobby.”At least he's talking now.” Dean commented to Sam and me. “I heard that.” “I don't have much time. We need to talk.” Cas directed to Dean. “Okay.” “Your plan to kill Lucifer.” “Yeah. You want to help?” “No. It's foolish. It can't be done.” Cas does really not have any fucks to give.

“Oh. Thanks for the support.” “But I believe I have the solution. There is someone besides Michael strong enough to take on Lucifer. Strong enough to stop the apocalypse.” We are wondering who he’s talking about. “Who's that?” “The one who resurrected me and put you on that airplane. The one who began everything. God.” Okay God right I mean why not. “I'm gonna find God.”

Dean closes the door so people don’t think we're insane. “God?” “Yes.” “God.” “Yes! He isn't in heaven. He has to be somewhere.” Cas sounded so sure. “Try New Mexico. I hear he's on a tortilla.” Dean said and poor sweet Cas did not get the joke. “No, he's not on any flatbread.” “Listen, Chuckles, even if there is a God, he is either dead—and that's the generous theory—” “He is out there, Dean.” “—or he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us.” Cas just glares.

“I mean, look around you, man. The world is in the toilet. We are literally—at the end of days here, and he's off somewhere drinking booze out of a coconut. All right?” “Enough. This is not a theological issue. It's strategic. With God's help, we can win.” he really believes. “It's a pipe dream, Cas.” Cas gets very close to Dean. “I killed two angels this week. My brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you, and you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world—and I lost everything, for nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself.” Damn, I don't think I've ever seen Cas like that before.

“You didn't drop in just to tear us a new hole. What is it you want?” Bobby voiced. “I did come for something. An amulet.” A necklace? “An amulet? What kind?” “Very rare. Very powerful. It burns hot in God's presence. It'll help me find him.” “A God EMF?” Sam questioned. “Well, I don't know what you're talking about. I got nothing like that.” Bobby shrugged his shoulders. “I know. You don't.” Cas turns to Dean. He looks down at Dean’s necklace. “What, this?” “May I borrow it?” Cas asked politely.

“No.” “Dean. Give it to me.” Dean is silent, he looks at me and I nod my head. “All right, I guess.” He takes it off. And hestionly gives it to Cas. “Don't lose it. Great. Now I feel naked.” Cas now has the necklace. “I'll be in touch.” He goes to walk out of the room. “CAS wait up!” 

He is very quick on his feet I guess having wings would help with that. I caught up to him and grabbed his wrist to pull him into a room ironically it was the chapel. We just stood staring at each other a little. I couldn't believe that he was here. I finally shake out of my trance-like state. And go to hug him tight like he would disappear in my fingers. And he does the same. “Cas were you really …. Dead?” I say right next to his ear. An answer came that I never hoped to hear.

“Yes.” A tear slips down my cheek and I squeeze him harder. We let go of each other slowly. We sat down on the pews. “So do you really think God will help us?” “I'm here aren't I” I sigh and process everything. “Ok, we will get God’s help then.” “Y/n do you really believe in this plan?” He wasn't just asking as a tactic to win this war but as my friend.

“I believe in you Cas yes God brought you back but you are the one who is fighting actively with us so no matter what remember that.” “Thank you Y/n, I must go start the search.” “Ok but now that you can’t just pop in where I am please use your phone that I gave you for that very reason” I finish with a smile. He gives me one back and files off.

When I was gone Rufus had called Bobby sounding really in trouble and something about Demons. We drove up to this bridge in Colorado and it looked like a tornado had walked through. “This is the only road in or out.” Great. “Looks like we're going to put those scout skills that we never learned to use boys. Let’s Go!” I grabbed my pack and gun and we were off.

We walked into the town slowly and lets just that tornado had walked over and full on ran through. Cars flipped over store doors open … blood in lots of places. Sprilikers on for hours. I had been in haunted places before but I have never felt a chill in my body like this. We are checking out this car when we hear a gun cuck and we turn around. It’s Ellen.

“Ellen hey!” I go to hug her but she raises the gun to my face. Dean gets in between us. “That’s far enough.” “Ellen, what the heck's going on here?” And in response, she throws holy water at Dean. I have to hold back my snicker. “We're us.” He says annoyed, whipping off his face. We walked to a church where the survivors of whatever happened held up. When Ellen knew we were safe she threw herself onto me first for a hug. When she hugged Dean and she pulled back she slapped him.

“You can't pick up a phone? What are you, allergic to giving me peace of mind the only one to call is Y/n. I got to find out that you're alive from Rufus?” Dean seems surprised by her care. “Sorry, Ellen.” “Yeah, you better be. You better put me on speed dial, kid.” “Yes, ma'am.” All of us go to the church basement and theirs a demon trap in front. “What's going on, Ellen?” I ask. “More than I can handle alone.” “How many demons are there?” Sam asks in almost bewilderment. “Pretty much the whole town, minus the dead people and these guys.” Holy shit Demons are having super bowl parties.

“So, this is it, right? End times? It's got to be.” Ellen states. “Seems like it.” Sam replies back. Ellen knocks on the door and the makeshift peephole cover gets moved. “It's me.” Someone opens the door and we're let in, the people in here look like they've been through… war. They all look normal and one of them is pregnant. Peachy just peachy.

“This is Sam and Dean, Y/n. They're hunters. Here to help.” A guy who looks like he's the most confident out at of everyone comes up to us. “You guys hip to this whole demon thing?” “We have some experience.” I answered laughing inside. There was another man in glasses sitting at the table who looked especially like he had seen something. “My wife's eyes turned black. She came at me with a brick. Kind of makes you embrace the paranormal.” Yeah, I would too.

“All right, catch us up.” Dean told Ellen. “I doubt I know much more than you. Rufus called. Said he was in town investigating omens. All of a sudden, the whole town was possessed. Me and Jo were nearby—” What? Now that’s a surprise. The last time I knew she would rather have Jo be a Barmaid than a hunter! “You're hunting with Jo?” “Yeah, for a while now. We got here, and the place—well, the place was like you see it. Couldn't find Rufus, then me and Jo got separated. I was out looking when I found you.” Well, that’s great.

“Don’t worry Ellen we’ll find her” I touched her arm in a comforting way. She gave me a small smile in return. “Either way, these people cannot just sit here” Sam said looking at everyone. Especially the pregnant woman. “We got to get them out now.” “No, it's not that easy. I've been trying. We already made a run for it once.” “So we just reverse the plan-” Ellen stopped me. “Sweetie we used to have twenty.” My eyes widened. “Well, there's four of us now—” Dean tried again.

“You don't know what it's like out there. Demons are everywhere. We won't be able to cover everybody.” “What if we get everyone guns?” Sam suggested. “Sam you want to give walking nursery over there one she won’t make it five feet without going into early labor.” I said to him hoping to slap some sense into him. “More salt we can fire at once, more demons we can keep away.” Of course, it didn’t work when did my brothers ever listen to me!? “Fine everyone but her I'll carry two guns” I could tell Sam was ashamed but he was right, unfortunately. Dean broke our tension.

“There's a sporting goods store we passed on Main on the way in. I bet they got guns.” “All right. You stay. We'll go.” Sam said to Ellen. “What about—” I pulled Ellen into a hug. “Ellen if she’s out there I promise to bring her back.” She had tears in her eyes but kept them back to be strong. “Thank you Y/n.” I squeezed her arms and followed my brothers. 

We stop outside the door well Dean stopped us. “Why don't we just go?” Dean directed to Sam about him and I. “What? Just you and N/n?” Sam clapped back. “Well, yeah. Somebody's got to stay here and start giving them Shotgun 101.” “Yeah. Ellen.” Sam starts to go but Dean stops him again. “No no no. It's gonna go a lot faster if you stay and help, okay?” “While you and Y/n split up to go get guns and salt and look for Jo and Rufus? That's stupid.” “Dean We’ll be okay.�� “Thanks N/n.” But Dean was stubborn. “You don't want me going out there.” Sam realized. “I didn't say that.” “Around demons.” “I didn't say that.” “Fine, then let's go.” Sam stopped upstairs and Dean gave me an uneasy look.

Dean and I had gone to go look for Guns while Sam was getting salt. “Ok come on let me have it.” Dean said to me. “I don’t know what you're talking about.” I looked at the shotguns not looking up at him. “Y/n I know you, your silence speaks louder than your words so spit it out.” “Dean, I can't tell you how to feel about this.” “But you're judging me.” “No, I'm not.” I put the bag of guns on the table and filled it. I could tell he was still thinking that.

“Dean I think you're feelings about this whole demon blood situation is right but Sam deserves our sympathy with him.” “But he!-” “I know what he did I was there. But he’s our brother and I am going to choose to believe that he can handle this and if he can’t then I'll be with him every step of the way.” I stopped to take a breath. “I hope you choose that too.” I picked up the bag and walked out.

We went to the store to check on sam and when walked in the scene was not good. Sam was bent over a body looking at the blood dripping off the blade like it was liquid drugs. “Sammy?” He drops the knife. 

The basement air had grown stronger with tension more and more the longer we were stuck down here and now seeing Sammy Dean was on edge. Teaching everyone shotgunning quickly is harder than it sounds. “Miss, can you show me?” It was the pregnant woman. “Mahm what’s your name?” “Caddy.” “Caddy, do you know the gender and name?” she smiled looking down at her bump, and that right there I knew I wouldn't be able to live if I let her out there. “A girl and her name will be Andra”

“That’s a beautiful name and Andra is the reason why I can't let you go out there.” She looked shocked. “But I can fight.” “I know you can Caddy but if you got hurt then you may never know your kid and I won't allow that.” She sat down tears in her eyes. “I'll fight for you double-fisting it so don’t worry the demons will get it no matter what.” I tried to add a little humor to it. “Thank you.” “Don’t mention it.”

“I'll be back.” I overheard Ellen say. I got straight up. “Where are you going?” “I can't sit here on my ass. My daughter's out there somewhere. I'm not back in half an hour, go. Get these people out of here.” Before I can say anything Sam speaks up. “No, wait. I'll go with you.” “Whoa, hold on. Can I talk to you for a second?”  My two brothers walked out. And I could hear the arguing. Suddenly the door pops open. Dean is up against the wall and Sam is holding him there. “If you actually think I—” Sam was getting emotional and they were talking about the demon blood.

With Sam and Ellen gone the pastor was reciting prayers like crazy. And Dean was thinking, walking back and forth. Someone pounds on the door Dean goes to open it and there is Ellen. “Ellen, what happened Where's Sam?” I asked, seeing her state telling me that she had taken a punch. She doesn't answer me and just sits down.

“They took him? Demons took him? Oh my god. What if they're in here? The demons?” Caddy got very worried. “Caddy don't worry they can't get past that door.” I pointed. Dean grabbed a shotgun and was going to leave. “Everybody sit tight. I got to—” He glanced back at everyone and saw their faces and knew he couldn't leave them like this. “Okay, we need to get a plan together. Tell me everything.” He sat down and tells the pastor and he gave me a nod of his head like, don’t worry.

“Guys, one of them's in Jo. We got to get it out without hurting her.” Well, now it's personal. Ellen snorts, laughing at something. “It called me a bitch.” “Ok no offense Ellen but I've been called worse because I took the last hot dog at seven eleven,” I responded. “No, that's not what I meant. It called me a black-eyed bitch.” Dean and I hear and either these demons are looking in mirrors or something fishy is going on.

“What kind of demons are these? Holy water and salt roll right off. My daughter may be an idiot, but she's not stupid. She wears an anti-possession charm. It's all kind of weird, right?” Ellen commented putting the pieces together. “The whole thing's off.” Dean finished. “What's your instinct?” Mine would be call Cas but I know he’s trying to look for God or whatever. “My instinct? My instinct is to call Bobby and ask for help. Or Sam.”

“Well, tough. All you got's me and N/n, and all we got's you. So let's figure it out.” “You know I agree with Ellen Dean.” “All right.” “Ellen do you know why Rufus came was there a specific sign or?” I asked. “He said something about water. That's all I know.” Water? “Padré, you know what she's talking about—the water?” Dean asked the pastor. “The river. Ran polluted all of a sudden. Last Wednesday. And the demon thing started up the next day.” Interesting. “Anything else anything at all?” “Maybe, but it's pretty random.” “Trust me Austin in this life nothing is random.” he takes in my own words. “Shooting star—does that count?”

The three of us look at each other in knowing. “Real big. Same night. Wednesday.” “That definitely counts.” Dean goes over to the bookshelf and grabs one of the many Bibles. And flips through the pages till he finds the right one. “"And there fell a great star from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell upon the river, and the name of the star was Wormwood. And many men died."” I leaned down on the table thinking about it.

“I don’t know about you guys but that sounds like a giant ass warning sign of the apocalypse.” “Y/n’s right.” Dean agreed with me. “And these specific omens, they're prelude to what?” “The Four Horsemen.” The pastor responded. “And which one rides the red horse?” Dean questioned. “War.” war!? War. “Dean that sweet ride that was parked on main street the red Mustang.” I pointed out and he shook his head in agreeance. “If War is a dude and he's here, maybe he's messing with our heads.” “Turning us on each other.” Ellen concluded. “You said Jo called you a black-eyed bitch. They think we're demons, we think they're demons. What if there are no demons at all and we're all just killing each other?” I asked everyone in general to everyone. 

“So now you're saying that there are no demons and war is a guy.” Austin vocalized and he was right, our lives sound like they were ripped from a cheesy early two thousand TV show. “You believed crazy before.” Dean voiced back. Then there was another slamming on the door. It was Roger which is weird because I don't remember leaving.  “I saw them, the demons. They know we're trying to leave. They said they're gonna pick us off one by one.” “Wait wait wait. What?” Dean proclaimed our thoughts.

“I thought you said there were no demons.” “Austin there's not, okay.” I told him. “I thought someone should go out and see what's going on!” Oh come on! If I did not know about the supernatural world I would be pissing my pants right now! “They're gonna kill us unless we kill them first!” Roger responded in panic. “Guys please hold on!” “No, we got people to protect. All right, the able-bodied go hunt some demons.” Austin said straight back at me. He grabbed the shotguns.

“Whoa whoa whoa. Slow your roll. This is not a demon thing.” Dean tried to stop him.  Out of t the corner of my eye, I see Roger twist a ring on his finger. Fuck it's him. “Look at their eyes! They're demons!” He pointed at us and I'm sure we looked like demons. Caddy gasps. No no! “Caddy!-” But before I could get another word out Dean pulls me out of the room and a gunshot almost hits us.

“Okay this is plan you and Ellen get Jo and I'll get Rufus.” Dean whispered to us. We nodded and went to them.Ellen sets off the bomb. Jo walks a little close to window and Ellen grabs her and pins her to the wall. Of course she tries to fight. “Now you listen up, Joanna Beth Harvelle.” Ellen pulled the full name card. “Jo its us!” “Get off of me bitches!” “Jo if we were demons we would have disaboled you by now!” I try to reason. She listens. “N/n?” “Yes!” 

Now both of them didn’t want to kill us we could talk. “We all on the same page?” Ellen asked. Rufus and Dean nod. “Good.” “Hi, Jo.” “Hey.” Ok sensing tension between these two I'll pin that for later. “Okay, we got to find War before everybody in this town kills each—” Gunshots. Everyone ducks. “Damn it! Where's Sam?” Dean yells. “Upstairs.” I let him go, I had a feeling that Caddy needed help. They have the horseman and I have the people.

Ellen and I tried to sneak out to the battlefield but it was pretty hard with bullets flying through the air. “Caddy! Caddy, you have to get out of here!” “No, you're a demon!” “Caddy if I was a demon I would want you out here!” she was going to say something else but I saw a person behind her holding a handgun.

“CADDY!” I push her out of the way and a bullet goes into my arm and I'm pushed back on the ground by the force. I don’t even have time to look at my wound before the guy gets on top of me with a knife. He’s about to stab me in the heart but I catch his wrists before he can slam down. I'm slowly losing strength and the knife is slowly going down. I’m sorry guys, Cas.

The blade is about to go in my chest when the guy stops. “What the fuck!!” He gets off. “Yeah me too dude.” I breathe deeply. “Y/n! Are you okay?” CAddy asked me. “Nothing a little dirt won’t fix.” I simled to hide my pain. “You saved me.” “It was nothing.” She pulls me into a hug. “Yes, it was.” 

It feels surreal to be at such a wonderful beautiful place when the day was so ugly and stressful. I was sitting at the picnic table with my brothers twirling the ring in my hands. “So, pit stop at Mount Doom?” Dean broke the silence. “Dean—” “Sam, let's not.” “No, listen. This is important. I know you don't trust me.” Dean looks away and I nudge him to bring him back. “Just, now I realized something. I don't trust me either.” We both look at him.

“From the minute I saw that blood, only thought in my head...and I tell myself it's for the right reasons, my intentions are good, and it, it feels true, you know? But I think, underneath...I just miss the feeling. I know how messed up that sounds, which means I know how messed up I am. The thing is, the problem's not the demon blood, not really. I mean, I, what I did, I can't blame the blood or Ruby or...anything. The problem's me. How far I'll go. There's something in me that...scares the hell out of me, Dean Y/n. In the last couple of days, I caught another glimpse…” “So what are you saying?”

“I'm in no shape to be hunting. I need to step back, 'cause I'm dangerous. Maybe it's best we just...go our separate ways.” I think he's right if he needs time. “Well, I think you're right.” Dean responded and Sam and I were both surprised. “I was expecting a fight.” “Me too.” “The truth is I spend more time worrying about you than about doing the job right. And I just, I can't afford that, you know? Not now.” I feel like Dean is still avoiding his feelings but that's up to him. “I'm sorry, Dean.” “I know you are, Sam.”

“So Y/n which one of us do you want to go with. I thought for a minute and then I came back with an answer. “I think a little separation will be good for us all to sort through our own feelings without anyone else's opinion mixing in our own.” I want Dean to really think by himself. “Where will you go?” They both ask me. “With Ellen and Jo if they are okay with that.” Sam stands up and hugs me. “But you better still call me that threat could still happen.” I tease. “You too Dean.” “Yeah, I know my little sister can kick my ass.” He said as he hugged me. 

Jo and Ellen are packing up a truck. “Hey, N/n came to say goodbye?” Ellen asked. “Um actually the opposite and I totally understand if you don't want to but I was wondering if you had space for an extra hunter for a while.” Ellen throws me a pack in response. “Well come on we just got word on a possible vamp nest in Texas.” Jo smiles and we get in the truck. I roll down the window and just hope that this time apart will bring us together. 

AN/ Hope you all enjoyed and don't worry the siblings will be back together soon enough. See you Ya'll next time Xoxo Gossip Girl:)

[1winged-spiderzz]

⋆˙⟡♡Angel Dust NPT (+ identities)♡⟡˙⋆

°˖➴ Self Indulgent

°˖➴ Themes of Angels, Spiders, Guns, Drugs, Lovecore, and Sexuality/Hypersexuality. More masc/neu in namesake

ᝰ.ᐟ Names:

All the names come from different origins, please do your own research first

AK, Abaddon, Adam, Adonis, Alex, Alexander, Amadeus, Amado, Ammo, Anansi, Ange, Angel, Angelo, Ant, Anthony, Aya, Aziz, Bren, Bruce, Cael, Caliber, Cancor, Candy, Caradoc, Cass, Castiel, Cat, Charlie, Chris, Christofer, Cody, Colt, Conor, Corwin, David, Davon, Didier, Dimitri, Dragon, Drake, Emanuel, Engel, Erasmus, Eros, Evan, Evangelical, Evangelos, Flower, Gabriel, Gagamba, Gohma, Gossamer, Habib, Hachi, Hariel, Henry, Howitzer, Hunter, Javan, Jay, Jelly, Kafziel, Kat, Kemuel, Kevin, Kongulo, Kumo, Lennon, Lev, Lex, Love, Lover, Luv, Magnum, Malach, Max, Merimange, Michael, Michelangelo, Mike, Missulena, Mogg, Mortar, Ocho, Oliver, Orifiel, Otto, Pearl, Pin, Raguel, Ramiel, Raph, Raphael, Raziel, Ricochet, Rocha, Rogan, Sam, Samuel, Sicarius, Sig, Spider, Sten, Sun, Sunny, Taranto, Thompson, Tom, Tommy, Trey, Upendo, Uriel, Uzi, Valentine, Vallo, Vel, Velvet, Widow, Winchester, Wolf, Xa, Xander, Yael, Zadkiel, Zerachiel

ᝰ.ᐟ Pronouns:

Order is like he/him/his

a/arro/arrogas

ange/angel/angels

angel/angel/angels

arro/arrogant/arrogants

bite/bite/bites

bug/bug/bugs

bull/bullet/bullets

bullet/bullet/bullets

de/dem/demos

dr/drug/drugs

drug/drug/drugs

eight/eight/eights

ge/gem/gems

gem/gem/gems

gun/gun/guns

h*/h*m/h*s

he/heart/hearts

heart/heart/hearts

hi/high/highs

high/high/highs.

hx/hxm/hxs

hy/hym/hys

love/love/loves

lu/lust/lusts

lust/lust/lusts

luv/luv/luvs

poi/poison/poisons

poison/poison/poisons

pri/pride/prides

pride/pride/prides

ro/rose/roses

rose/rose/roses

ser/sera/seras

shoot/shoot/shoots

spi/spider/spiders

spider/spider/spiders

thou/thee/thy

tom/gun/tommyguns

✂️/✂️/✂️s

❤️‍🩹/❤️‍🩹/❤️‍🩹s

🃏/🃏/🃏s

🌹/🌹/🌹s

🍁/🍁/🍁s

🍃/🍃/🍃s

🍆/🍆/🍆s

🍈/🍈/🍈s

🍑/🍑/🍑s

🍒/🍒/🍒s

🍷/🍷/🍷s

🎬/🎬/🎬s

💊/💊/💊s

💋/💋/💋s

💌/💌/💌s

💐/💐/💐s

💝/💝/💝s

💨/💨/💨s

💵/💵/💵s

📹/📹/📹s

🔞/🔞/🔞s

🕊️/🕊️/🕊️s

🕷️/🕷️/🕷️s

🕸️/🕸️/🕸️s

🚬/🚬/🚬s

🥀/🥀/🥀s

🩷/🩷/🩷s

🪢/🪢/🪢s

🪽/🪽/🪽s

ᝰ.ᐟ Titles:

A Thousand Kisses, Angel as High as The Sky, Angel of Sex and Drugs, Fallen Spider, One Winged Spider, Sinful Angel, Spider of Sinful Thoughts, The Angel to Be, The Gun-slinger, The Lust-filled Spider, The One to be Redeemed, The One who Shot Through Your Heart, The One with Hidden Guns, The Pink Spider, Trigger Happy Angel/Spider, [PRN] Who Gives [PRN]self to Pleasure, [PRN] Whose Love is Clouded by Lust, [PRN] of Many Limbs

ᝰ.ᐟ Genders:

Each first letter links to the og post

Addictgender, Angeldustcharic, Angelhigh, Deangelgender, Bleedheartic, Consciloveic, Dualweilgunic, Fallenlovic, Genderhigh, Gunbelsic, Gunmasc, Haurancute, Heartchocoboxic, Hypersexdemon, Hypersexgender, Hypersexspiderdemon, Hypersexulenel, Hypersexulidemon, IRDUtagged, Ingeluse, Invispiheart, Lexespideric/Spiderlexic, Loserbabysongic, Lovecorefreakbitch, Lovecoriboy/Lovecoridian, Lovecorimasc, Nightmaritrippic, Paradoxicangelic, Pinkshadowic, Poisonsongic, Rospixelvalentinic, Seroanus, Spiderinjection, Spiderthing, Spiwebtanglen, Succuangeliyn, Sweetheartgoric

ᝰ.ᐟ Labels:

Each first letter links to the og post

AFeMAB, ASpiAB, Alderarachne, Alderarachnid, Alderlovecorian, Angelsuccuallion, Angelsuccuvior, Ariaperspesque, Fallevior, Gunxper, Hypersexuvesi, Lovecoreaestelic, Loveperspesque, Lovevildernic, Lustintent, Sexvesil, Spidervesil

This was my first ever ID pack thing, it was surprisingly fun

[bobwess]

Ao3 seems fixed, but just in case, here is my old fic "Rest and Rebirth" in its entirety. [ link to it on ao3 ] TW: Pain and injury.

CHAPTER ONE Dean wasn't sure when this started, whatever this was. He supposed it had been a few months ago. Probably a few years ago, but they really took a step in recent history. They hadn't attempted to put words to it. Honestly they didn't talk about it much at all. It just sort of evolved naturally.

The hunter was no stranger to nightmares, and he was pretty sure the things he had seen would drive a normal man crazy. Four years old, he was dreaming of his mother burning on the ceiling. Then monsters. Losing Sammy. Losing his father. 40 years of hell. They stepped up a solid notch after the Mark of Cain, his stint as a demon doing nothing to help. They intensified after Michael took control and wore his face to a monster slaughter. Jack dying somehow made them even worse.

It took a while, but they built. Time was, a bottle of hunter's helper before bed could buy him most of a night's rest, but even that stopped working, and upping the intake was unsustainable in the long run. So he had muddled through. His drinking habit could buy him a few hours at least, and then he'd just white knuckle it until morning.

At some point, he started waking up to Cas standing over his bed, in a proper nod to old times.

"Cas, we talked about this…"

"You prayed to me in your sleep."

"I…" He looked up groggily "What?" He shook his head. "Got some wires crossed there bud. Sorry to bother you."

It wasn't isolated to that instance. Every time he woke up with a scream threatening to rip from his lips, there Cas was. He had given up hovering, and usually was found on a chair, turned from the desk.

"Don't you have anything better to do than watch me sleep?"

"No."

Dean had to admit, it was becoming sort of comforting. He'd wake in a panic, and he started to look for the angel, taking for granted he would be there. In a new turn of events, after calming down he started to sometimes manage to find sleep again, even after waking from the depths of hellish visions. He would never admit it out loud, but he liked the safety he felt when Cas was around. Cas must've known, because he kept showing up.

Eventually Cas started sitting with Dean during his nightly routine of drinking before bed. They'd start in the library, and then when he worried their conversations would bother Sam's sleep, they'd move to his room. Cas was starting to open up to being more conversational, more talkative than he used to be. Dean appreciated the time spent, keeping his mind off the impending night's sleep. Cas would leave when Dean looked ready to sleep, but he'd always be back by the time the hunter woke in a cold sweat.

It took another couple weeks before Cas just didn't leave. He'd settle into a chair, and they'd spend time until Dean passed out. They didn't even necessarily talk any more. Sometimes Dean would listen to music, leafing through a magazine, and Cas would watch something on the laptop. Dean would inevitably drift off, and wake to find Cas before drifting off again. He found the dreams more and more manageable, and much to Cas' unspoken pleasure, he found his nightly drinking had become less necessary, and easier to cut back on.

The night after a particularly hard hitting hunt, Dean found himself suffering something of a relapse. Something stirring in his mind, he couldn't let go of. Instead of his now common startle waking up, he shot out of sleep, hand pulling the gun he kept under his pillow, his breath caught in his throat making him sure he would choke to death. He looked to his right, and the chair was empty, Cas gone, and that only made his chest tighten more.

He almost shot the angel when a hand touched his left shoulder, and he turned, wild eyed to come face to face with Castiel. Cas was sitting on the edge of his bed, hands up as if trying to calm a wild animal. His face was stricken with concern, and Dean slowly lowered his weapon.

"Cas?"

"You were screaming."

The hunter started to catch his breath, and finally managed the mental control to shove the firearm back under his pillow. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up and trying to ground himself. He rubbed his face and head, taking a deep breath and reminding himself he was in his room and safe.

Cas remained perfectly still, not daring to touch the hunter for fear of startling him, but not wanting to move away either.

"Fuck." Dean said simply, leaning back to collapse onto his bed again, feeling thoroughly drained and more than a little shaken. He blindly reached for his night stand, hoping to catch his whiskey bottle and take a swig to take the edge off, but he brought back a water bottle instead. He forgot that at some point Cas had made a habit of switching the two bottles while he slept. He paused, but decided to just go with it, taking a sip and somehow still feeling a little better for having done so.

Cas shifted, making to stand and return to his quiet vigil when Dean grabbed his arm, seeming just as surprised as Cas when he did it. Castiel looked down at him, his head tilted, trying to read Dean's expression.

Dean frowned, but he pressed on against his inner doubts. "Stay…." He hesitated. "Please."

Cas didn't say anything, he just settled back, and then, after a moment of uncertainty, he leaned back against the mound of pillows on the bed, laying next to the hunter, facing him.

Dean watched Cas settle in, his expression blank. He wasn't fully sure what to make of this development, but at the moment he was too tired and worked up to process it. But with Cas' presence so close, the hunter managed to find sleep again fairly quickly.

Now at night, there is an unspoken agreement. When Dean Winchester finally settles onto his bed, Castiel takes up his place beside him. Sometimes when Dean wakes their foreheads are just barely touching, or Cas' hand rests on his arm. The proximity is always calming enough that sleep returns to the hunter in a matter of minutes.

Dean isn't sure what he'd call this. It was some sort of love for sure, but unlike than the love he had known in his life. It was nothing like the love for his brother, or Bobby, and so different than the love he had for Lisa. He smiled vaguely as he thought of Charlie, and how she would probably call it his bisexual awakening. He had heard her use that term before, though he didn't think that quite described whatever link he and the angel had managed to build.

Still, he had to admit, there was something. Something he couldn't put words to, but he and Cas never had seemed to struggle with the lack of a label.

For now he chose not to dwell on it, and simply be thankful for the newfound warmth he felt when he slept. CHAPTER 2

Cas listened for the moment Dean's breathing evened out. Usually these days he simply waited beside the hunter, ready to step in and fight back the nightmares in his mind when he sprang awake. Tonight however, Dean would be waking up in the room alone. Cas pulled the letter from his pocket, slipping it out and leaving it folded on the side of the bed, knowing Dean would look over to where he normally was. It was intentionally vague, but it assured Dean he was coming back.

He got up silently and crept over towards the door, looking back over his shoulder one last time before easing it open and slipping through. Once it was silently closed again, Cas could move a little less cautiously as he made his way through the bunker towards the exit. He paused outside the library, listening for any telltale signs Sam was still awake and on his laptop, but after a moment he was relatively sure his exit was unguarded.

The angel slipped behind the wheel of his once-stolen truck, only then allowing himself to hesitate. He opened the small bag he had with him and double checked its contents, making sure he wasn't forgetting anything he might need where he was going. Once satisfied he swallowed, feeling a small tug of uncertainty. It quickly burnt itself out however and Cas started the truck, pulling away from the familiar bunker.

He had spent months agonizing over this decision. He still wasn't sure it was the right one, he just knew it was what he wanted. When Cas finally pulled up to the old farm he had eyed as a nice out of the way place to work, he found himself simply sitting and staring at it, the uncertainty flickering up again for one last round of what-if.

Was it worth risking Dean's life for your own happiness? To risk Sam's?

That was the question. But, he had to remember, that wasn't the right question to ask. Was it worth potentially risking Dean's life for your own happiness? Even more accurate, was it worth potentially being able to simply help Dean less? To help Sam less?

He hadn't made the decision alone. As soon as he finally figured out it could be done, he talked with Sam. He admitted he wanted to let go of his grace, become human once more. He admitted that he feared he was more useful to them as an angel, arguing that it was just safer if he was in possession of his grace. As soon as he made the argument, he had pretty much convinced himself, and he tried to withdraw the question.

Sam was, as usual, persistent they talk it through. They would have several long conversations about it over the next week, more than Cas had talked about any one topic with anyone before. The angel was appreciative of his discretion, and Sam was respectful of his decision not to involve Dean.

He knew the chance to change plans was behind him, and this concern he had now was not going to stop him. He knew how to push through and past fear. He had led an assault on hell when she was at her most guarded. The only person who could talk him out of it was kept out of the loop exactly for this reason.

The soon to be human stepped out of his truck, holding the bag awkwardly as he headed inside the rundown barn. He smiled weakly. Every barn he was in reminded him of meeting Dean face-to-face for the first time. Sure, his angelic form had pulled his soul from the pit, but to stand on the same field, both as men. Or at least, in his case, something resembling men. Fitting that it was also the last place he'd stand as an angel.

He prepared the spell quickly, glad it wasn't overly complex. The ingredients were found in the bunker. Sam had help him build a spell to do what he wanted using books the men of letters had left behind. It wasn't easy. This spell wouldn't simply remove his grace, it would destroy it, every last piece. Sam had worried about the risk to Cas himself, as his body would be effectively human when it was over. He didn't care.

Cas was just finishing the last of the sigil work when his chest clenched. His angelic hearing picked up the familiar rumble of the impala approaching, and he listened with dread when the engine cut. He hoped that by some miracle it was Sam, just making sure all was well, but he knew it wasn't. The barn door opened up and he was faced with the older Winchester. "Hello Dean."

Dean's mouth was set in a line, and Cas found himself having a harder time than usual figuring out what emotions were fighting for space in Dean's head. He was moving slowly, with a deliberate walking pace. "Cas." He said simply, but his tone offered no more clues. He came to stand just a few feet away from the angel.

Castiel found himself frozen, making no move to complete the last of the sigils, no move to put down the brush either. The silence ticked on until he finally chose to break it. "How did you-"

"GPS on your phone." Dean finished. "Got your letter, real specific, thank you."

Alright, so there was a touch of the sarcasm Cas had expected. "Oh." He said simply, not knowing how to reply to the statement directly.

"So, do you need me to give you a second to come up with a lie about why you're out here, or do you have one prepared?"

"Dean-"

"Save it Cas." Dean put his hand up, cutting him off. He took a deep breath, and looked at the ground. "I know why you're out here." He glanced up and frowned again. "I overheard you talking to Sam one night, weeks ago at this point."

"You didn't say anything."

"Figured you would have asked me if you wanted my opinion."

Cas opened his mouth to say something, but Dean put up his hand to silence him again.

"Are you sure it's what you want? Forget Sam and I, are you sure that this is what you want."

"Yes."

"Okay."

Cas stared at him for a moment. "Okay?"

"I trust you." Dean said softly, though Cas could tell he was fighting a war with himself to say that. It wasn't a question of trust, though Dean clearly thought this was a bad idea. But with this blessing, Cas' last doubts evaporated. "What can I do to help?"

"There isn't anything. The sigils will help contain the grace. Normally another angel would need to help draw out the grace, but I cannot ask them. I, of course, will be draining it all, so I will be unable to direct it for long. So I needed to artificially-"

"Okay okay." Dean said dismissively, trying to stop the long overly-detailed explanation Cas was giving.

"The first part of the spell gathers the grace behind this sigil." He indicated one in his chest. "I make the cut, and drop the ingredients into the flame. The angel part of me should burn out."

"Alright."

"You will need to close your eyes. The unshielded grace would easily blind you." Like it had Pamela.

"Will it hurt?"

"You shouldn't feel it if you are far enough away."

"Will it hurt you?" Dean clarified.

"Oh." Cas said softly. "Yes." The appeal of this spell was the totality. There was no way to undo this spell. No other angel's grace could be given, his own grace could never be returned. The pay off for it's permanence was brutality. The grace wasn't simply being cut out, it was being ripped out, and burned. In many ways he was dying to be reborn.

Dean finally frowned, arms crossing as he looked over the sigil work and spell ingredients. He didn't comment for a moment, his mind seeming to process everything so far. For a moment, Castiel thought he was going to abandon his support and try to convince Cas to stop. But he simply gave a curt nod. "Where should I stand?"

"Near the door should be far enough." Cas said, finishing the last strokes of the white paint on the old weathered wood. He knelt in the circle, candle burning, and a smaller satchel of ingredients within reach. He tightened his grip over the angel blade in his hand, and gave a nod to Dean.

The hunter turned his back, and Cas could see his shoulders tense.

Cas recited the first part of the spell, easily sounding out the difficult enochian incantation. The second the last syllable passed his lips, the atmosphere in the barn shifted. The room felt as if it had become electrified. Dean could feel the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He turned and looked out of the corner of his eye, ready to close them in an instant if needed, but Cas was not yet ready to progress. The sight of the shadow of his broken wings surprised Dean. He had caught glimpses before, fleeting, but they showed no sign of fading now as they were clearly reacting to the blatant attack.

With the electricity, Cas could feel his grace begin to move. The power contained within every cell of his vessel came alive at once, and with it came the pain. Castiel had felt pain before. When his wings were scorched with hellfire. When Raphael brought the wrath of heaven down on him. When the leviathan ripped through his body. This was white hot fire being drawn through his very essence, and as much as he thought he was prepared, the pain took him entirely off guard.

Cas set his jaw, trying to turn the knife, trying to redirect it towards his chest, trying to fight through the pain. He fumbled, and the blade clattered to the ground. He reached down, trying to pick it up again. His fingers brushed over the knife, trying desperately to get his hands to obey him and close around the hilt. He felt the hand close over his and he reacted violently, trying to pull away. "No Dean." He hissed through clenched teeth. "You're going to get hurt…"

"You need help." Dean said firmly.

"My grace… my wings… they're going to burn right through-" Cas couldn't get the words out, but he knew Dean understood. He was horrified when the grip only tightened over his hand, slipping the blade out of his hold.

"I know." Was the only response he got.

Cas weakly tried one last time to pull the knife from Dean, to push him away, but his body was weakening under the strain of the grace threatening to tear through his chest. He felt one strong hand on his shoulder, holding him steady. He looked up in time to see those green eyes close as Dean pushed the knife forward just a little.

The energy released from the tiny cut knocked both men back from each other. Dean went flying across the room and Cas rolled, almost falling out of the set of runes and sigils. The light streamed from him, gathering and pooling around him. Cas couldn't help but scream as the liquid fire flooded through his body and out into the world around him. He tried to force himself to move past the pain, scrambling for grip to pull himself up towards the candle, towards the ingredients for the last part of the spell…

Strong arms grabbed him again, coming from behind him. He looked up with fear, but Dean had his eyes shielded against the light. He reached blindly past Cas, grabbing the satchel. He propped the angel up in his arms, prepared to drop the contents into the small flame. Cas knew it was pointless to fight him, and he was too weak to reasonably try. So instead he mumbled the enochian spell, and let his head fall back against Dean when he was done. Dean tossed the spell ingredients into the flame.

The grace grew with intensity and surrounded Cas. He felt the moment his wings caught alight, and he could feel more than hear Dean cry out in pain behind him. The noise built until it was a deafening roar, and Cas too had to close his eyes against the blinding light.

Then as quickly as it had built, it was over. The room was unnaturally quiet and dark. The candle was long extinguished, as well as the lantern Cas had brought, leaving only the moon glinting into the barn to light it's walls.

Cas still lay panting in Dean's arms, unable to even lift his head. Dean slid down to lay next to him, still holding an arm around the angel, keeping him grounded as tears ran down his face. It was done. He was human. Or at least as human as he was ever going to be.

They didn't talk or move for close to an hour. At some point Cas had drifted off, completely spent from the physical toll the spell took. When he woke there was sunlight streaming through the barn, and he could hear the deeper breathing of the unconscious hunter behind him.

He rolled, extracting himself from the heavy dead weight of Dean's arm. He heard the hunter wake, and met green eyes when he finally managed to look.

Cas winced as he saw the scene around him. The barn looked as if a small bomb had gone off, a clear blast ring around them. The hay and debris that had littered the floor was pushed back to the far corners, propelled by the force of the spell. Right where Cas had been propped up, scorched into the wood was an almost perfect imprint of his angel wings. The only part not visible on the floor was the burnt outline of the feathers that was clearly across the hunter's torso.

Cas closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He had wanted to do it alone, wanted Dean away and safe. Dean had come to help only to immediately get hurt from his recklessness. He could have ditched the phone, could have gone further from the bunker, could have done any number of things…

"It's okay." came the gruff voice, and Cas opened his eyes again to look into Dean's. "I'm okay."

Cas slid a tentative and shaking hand across the floor, coming to rest gently on Dean's collar bone, withdrawing immediately when the hunter winced.

"It will heal." Dean insisted.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not."

Pain reflected across the former angel's eyes. Dean would bear these scars forever. "I didn't want you to get hurt."

"I didn't want you to do this alone."

Cas finally let his body relax, letting the floor hold him up completely. He was entirely physically and emotionally spent. He didn't protest when Dean finally got the strength to stand and help him up. He didn't argue when Dean led him to the passenger side of the impala. He didn't say anything as they drove away from his truck. He simply allowed it to happen.

Because this was what he wanted. And he was now absolutely sure it had been the right choice.

[soft--dragon]

Witches Curse

Words: 4,494

Warnings: None

This can be seen either romantically or platonically, I don't mind ^^

This was inspired by this incredible art and this idea by @carrie-tate . Check out her blog!! He makes amazing stuff :D <3

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Witches sucked, Castiel decides, glaring over his shoulder and rolling the tense muscles out the best he can. The ache persists much to his annoyance. He sighs bitterly. Witches sucked so much. 

Dean, Sam, and Cas had been hunting something that had been running rampant. Cures and curses had been popping up around Missouri for the last few weeks - all indicating a witch on a spell spree. It seemed pretty cut and dry, and Dean had proudly bolstered they'd be back in time for beers and a good slice of pie. 

But because their luck could never be that good, the hunt went sideways fast. 

They'd snuck into the house easily, and found the altar room where the witch was preparing a new enchantment. Slowly, the trio split up and crept around to circle him. Sam had the shot lined up perfectly, a finger easing on the trigger when Dean had accidentally knocked down a shaky stack of mismatched crockery from his hiding place - inadvertently causing Sam to misfire from the crash and strike the drywall. 

Turns out, people don't take kindly to being shot at. 

The witch lashed out instantly, a frightened yell wrenching from him as he blasted the first spell to mind at his intruders. The flashes of light and echoing shots of guns were overwhelming. 

Cas, armed with only his angelic grace, slipped around the firefight to hopefully catch the witch in a blind spot and end this. Unfortunately, one of Sam's bullets ricocheted off the concrete wall and only just missed Cas's cheek. The close call made him gasp in alarm, giving away the element of surprise. 

In a split second, the witch whirled around and rambled off a fast spell, causing pain to streak through Cas's shoulder blades. He yelled out, stumbling away from the witch and grabbing at his spine when the feeling spread and something shifted under his skin. It hurt. 

A sharp bang burst through the room, something wet hitting the floor and quickly followed by the heavy thudding of dead weight. Dean's gun was still smoking from the fresh bullet, raised to where the witch had just been standing, but he practically threw it to the ground in his rush to get to his friend's side. 

"Cas! Cas, you alright? Talk to me!" He demanded, hands splayed out towards Castiel as the angel writhed on the spot, still desperately clawing at his spine. 

"H-Hurts-" Cas choked out, suddenly wrenching at the sleeves of his coat to shed it from his burning skin. 

In an instant, Dean was helping him yank off the heavy material, startling at the sight of Cas's skin moving under his white dress shirt. "Cas, what the fu-" 

"Guys, what's happening?" Sam demanded worriedly from where he was crouched by the witch, checking for a pulse. 

"That son a bitch did something to Cas!" Dean growled, panic in his face as the angel suddenly gasped and twisted in place. "Cas-" 

A sharp tearing sound burst through the room and all Dean saw was a mass of darkness before he was thrown back into Sam. The Winchester brothers fell in a heap on the cold floor, the older man slightly winded from the sudden impact. 

"Augh, get off of me, Dean."

"Give me… a sec, man. Jesus." 

Dean coughed for air only to yelp when his younger brother hefted himself up on his forearms - making the older hunter roll off of Sam's lower back and land facedown on the concrete with a grunt. 

Sam looked from Dean, to Cas and froze. His lips parted in bewildered shock, eyebrows practically in his hairline as he registered what he was seeing. "...Dean."

Dean, hearing the awe in his little brother’s voice, lifted himself from the floor to look at the end of the altar room. He froze too. 

"Cas?" He asked cautiously.  

Castiel, angel of the lord, was standing at the edge of the room with a pair of hulking, black wings stretched out on either side of his body. 

So yeah, witches sucked. 

Cas was staring at the feathered appendages with round, blue eyes. Then, after a moment of silence, he muttered a gruff, "Fuck." 

The trio of misfits had left Missouri quickly after the curse had been placed on Castiel. Unfortunately, due to how misplaced they felt on a human vessel, Cas didn't trust himself to fly back to the Bunker. Cas' wings protested the cramped space the entire time he was stuck in the backseat of the Impala, which only added to his agitated state. Sam and Dean tried to get him to open up and let them help, but he sent them a sharp look at every attempt and continued brooding.

As soon as the Impala parked, Cas shoved himself out of the car and stomped up to the woods, ignoring the humans' calls behind him. While he trusted Sam and Dean - hell they were his closest friends - having his wings exposed was a level of vulnerability he never knew existed. He couldn't handle their eyes on his angelic appendages for another minute.

Hours later, Cas is fully settled into bitterness. No matter what he does, he can't get comfortable with how weighty and awkward the wings feel in a human vessel. With his grace, the impressive appendages are cloaked safely, tucked away from any misgivings in the human world. The overexposure is downright uncomfortable now - the dirt scratching on his primaries and the wind upsetting the pristine layout of feathers. Cas hates this. 

Soft footsteps make the angel turn sharply, his years as a soldier instinctively preparing to yank out his blade and stab whatever was going to make his life worse. 

Dean quickly holds up his hands in alarm, taking a stumbling step backward and almost tripping over a tree root. "Woah there, buddy," he placates with a nervous smile, eyeing the sharp blade. "Let's not go all 'Michael Myres' here, okay?"

Cas glares, but he already feels his shoulders slumping in exhaustion. With a sigh, Cas re-sheathes the blade and sits back on the forest floor, wings hiking up around himself to hide from Dean. 

"What do you want, Dean?" He asks in a choleric tone, not wanting to be disturbed from his self-resenting, but safe position. 

Dean didn't shift from his spot, hands slowly lowering to sit in his jacket pockets as he worriedly stared at Cas. "Sam and I have been looking into the lore," he says, hoping to draw the angel's interest. "We're tracking down a way to reverse this."

Cas doesn't answer. 

Dean, never one to enjoy the silence, clears his throat and tries again. "You've been up here for hours, Cas, I just wanted to come check on you. You haven't exactly been very talkative since you got hexed." 

"I wonder why." Cas snips, hunching deeper into himself. "It's not like a witch cursed me to expose the essence of my angelic side." 

Dean makes a small noise of regret. "Right- uh… sorry." 

At the subdued tone, Cas closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath. When he opens them again, he tries to sound more neutral. "It's not your fault, Dean. Thank you for looking for a cure." 

The sound of crunching twigs lifts Castiel's head, turning to see Dean slowly approaching. His eyes are glued to the trees ahead, avoiding looking at the wings that are shifting uneasily. The lack of staring is honestly a relief to Castiel, and he appreciates the gesture. 

When Dean is standing by Cas - far enough to give space but close enough to hear each other easily - he flicks his gaze to the bright blue eyes that are watching him carefully. "Any room on this hill for one more?" 

Cas regards the hunter for a moment, then sighs and nods, waving a hand as Sam taught him to show he didn't mind. Dean sinks to the ground, grunting in mild discomfort as his knees protest the action. He really was getting too old for this hunting business, he wasn’t sure how many years left his knees had with this work. 

Once seated comfortably, Dean clasps his hands over his bent knees and releases a breath, inhaling slowly to enjoy the crisp air. He doesn't get much of a chance to enjoy the Bunker’s surrounding woods. 

“Can I ask something?” He inquires.

Cas nods in his peripheral vision, still tucked into himself glumly. 

“What do they feel like? In this body, I mean.”

Cas lets out a deep sigh and rolls his shoulders, the ache persisting and prickling at his neck. “It sucks.”

Dean couldn’t stop the small laugh that left him at the bone-dry, deadpan answer. He quickly schooled his expression, turning to apologize, but there was a small smile on Cas’s face. The angel glanced at him.

“Humans weren’t meant to encompass the full weight and strength of angel wings,” he says. “It's why we keep them tucked away when we use a human vessel. It protects the human from extra strain and protects us too.”

Dean cocks his head to the side. “Protects you?” He repeats. 

Cas gives a small, miserable wave to his angelic appendages. “Earth is beautiful,” he sighs. “But it is filled with things that can damage our wings. It’s safer for everyone if we keep them hidden.”

Dean glances at the glossy, ebony feathers standing tall over him. With a small hum, he smiles at Cas. “Well, despite the situation, I’m glad I finally get to see them. They’re really cool.” 

Castiel glances at Dean in confusion. “You think so?”

“Yeah. I mean, most angels are depicted to have white wings, but having black ones? So fucking badass, man. If I was an angel, I’d be envious of em.” 

Cas stares with wide eyes and a tilted head. After a moment, he shakes his head with a fond smile. “You never cease to confound me, Dean.” 

Dean scoffs in bemusement. “Thanks?”

“You're welcome.”

The pair settle into a comfortable silence. Cas’s wings had come to rest on the ground, the puffed-up feathers smoothing down for the first time in hours. Cas too, had slumped into a more relaxed posture, his half-lidded eyes taking in the countryside. Dean, who was leaning back on his hands, snuck glances at the impressive wings every so often, captivated by their beauty and obvious strength. Dean did not doubt that Cas could easily smack him like a baseball with one of those bad boys. Yet, he felt no fear near the strong appendages. Instead, he got a weird, intense urge to ask one thing. 

“Can I…?”

Cas turns to watch as Dean struggles to put his request into words, his mouth ticking up slightly in amusement as the human looks almost constipated. “Dean.” He says. 

The man meets his eyes instantly, his nerves written clearly in the pupils though his face doesn’t show it. It was how Cas learned to understand the Winchesters over the years, emotion was all in the eyes, not the face - it was a rather endearing trait for the boys. 

Wordlessly, Cas stretches out the wing closest to Dean, noticing the slight flinch in Dean’s posture as the appendage shows off its impressive size and build. One flap and Cas could send him tumbling down the hill, but he does no such thing. He holds it perfectly still and lets Dean register everything. Dean’s hands fidget on top of his knees, drawing Cas’s gaze to the shifting fingers. He smiles, despite his racing heart of exposing such a vulnerable thing to anyone who was not an angel. 

“You may touch them,” he reassures quietly.

Dean swings around almost comically to stare at him. “Really?” He flits his gaze to the wings again and then back to Castiel. “I thought you’d smite me if I tried to ask.” 

Cas gives a one-shouldered shrug and lets his smile soften towards the man. “I trust you,” he offers, his voice just as gentle as his expression. “Besides, it’s been a long time since I’ve let anyone do so.”

Dean noticeably swallows, lips parted in bewilderment. But whatever he is going to say, it doesn't leave his lips. Instead, he closes his mouth and shifts to turn to the wall of feathers. A hand leaves his knees and slowly raises to the wing, fingers just grazing the outer plumage. He huffs in surprise, the silky surface sliding over his skin pleasantly. 

“Woah,” he mumbles, dragging his palm over the soft primaries. “Awesome.”

Cas has to fight back a shudder from the contact, though the slight tension in his brow catches Dean's attention. Immediately drawing back his hand in concern, he asks, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Castiel answers quickly, his wing already missing the warmth of Dean’s palm. “Like I said, it has been… a long time since anyone has touched my wings.”

“Oh. Do you want me to keep going?”

“That would be nice.”

Dean’s fingers return to the feathers, carefully raking through the thick primaries with a gentle and curious touch. With how Cas’s wing has stretched to practically wrap around and encompass Dean, he has easy access to the entire appendage. Cas hums appreciatively and rolls his shoulders, the ache in his back easing up finally. 

“Feel alright?” Dean double-checks. 

“It feels… quite relaxing, yes.” Cas folds his knees to his chest and drops his head onto his crossed arms. He watches lazily as Dean slowly explores the wing. He registers a slight pull on his coverts and chuckles a bit. “Just don’t tug any of the feathers out, Dean. It’s not molting season yet.”

“You guys molt?” Dean repeats in surprise, looking from the wing to Cas, eyebrows high as he searches the angel’s face for any sign of jest.

Cas nods. “Of course. It’s a yearly experience, we have to do it to have healthy wings.”

Dean scoffs, but it’s in disbelief, not malice. “Wow.” He mutters, returning his gaze to the feather-endowed appendages. “You guys really are like birds, huh?”

Cas rolls his eyes and lightly smacks Dean in the face with the wing, pushing down a grin when the man splutters and pushes away from the offending limb. He looks at Cas in annoyance.

“Sorry, sometimes I can’t control the movement,” Cas smiles innocently. “Instinctive flexing, it’s completely involuntary.” 

Dean scowls at him, but a smirk curls at his lip. “Dick,” he jabs light-heartedly. 

“Ass-butt,” Cas replies in kind, settling on his arms and grinning. 

Dean returns his focus to the wings before him and shifts his hand to rake through the feathers, smirking when he hears Cas hum again - it isn’t unlike petting a cat. The thought made Dean snicker, but Cas was too far gone in enjoyment to care. 

The steady combing through feathers settles Castiel’s tense spine and brow, letting himself enjoy the sensations wholeheartedly. The last time he’d had the joy of having his wings groomed was back when he was a servant of Heaven. The angels often help each other maintain their wings to perfection, making it a bonding activity of sorts. It was a pastime Cas didn’t think he’d ever have the honor of experiencing again. He smiles into his arms. Figures that he’d be able to relive it with the Winchesters. They always managed to find ways to make his life interesting in some way or another, whether it be a good surprise or not. This, however, was a surprise he liked. The prior, bitter resentment from the curse soothed into simple bliss. 

Dean’s fingers shift from combing through his primaries to his secondaries. The change makes Cas shift in place, the wing flexing a bit as the sensations sparked through the wing and down his spine. Dean paused at the reaction and glanced at the angel in surprise. 

He took in Castiel’s posture, once relaxed and easy, now weirdly tense. His eyes are still closed, but there’s a marginal scrunch that draws attention to them. His simple grin was replaced with a slightly wobbly smile. 

“Cas?” Dean asks worriedly, his eyes raking over the angel’s form in concern. “Are you good?”

“Y-Yes.” Cas’s answer was nowhere near as firm as his previous confirmation. If anything, Dean swore his voice sounded a touch higher pitched than normal. “I’m okay.”

“You sure?” Dean pressed. “I can stop if this is uncomfortable at all-”

Cas opens his eyes and Dean is surprised at the slight plead in his pupils. “Please don’t,” he almost begs. “I’ve missed this.” 

Lips parted in surprise, Dean digests those words. Cas looked… well shit, he looked like he was desperate for this. A weird pang cuts across Dean’s heart as a thought hits him. Is Cas touch starved? 

Getting himself together, Dean nods and sends the angel a reassuring smile. “Alright.” He concedes. “Just lemme know if anything is wrong, okay?”

Cas gives an answering nod, tucking himself back into his arms and stretching his wing out again. ‘Instinctive flexing’, Cas had mentioned before. Dean thought that Cas was joking, but maybe he actually was telling the truth. That would explain the sudden twitchiness, and after all, the angel had said he hadn’t had this kind of touch in a while. 

Questions satiated, Dean lifts his hand and combs one hand through secondary converts. Cas yelps, his wing ruffling and shoulders leaping to his ears as his whole body jolts. 

Dean wrenches his hand away in alarm and snaps towards the angel. “Cas-?” He demands, but then he registers Castiel, and all thoughts die in his head. 

Cas has his knuckles pressed to his lips as he snickers, light sounds that seem so unusual for the angel. The force of his grin is causing his eyes to squint. The sight leaves Dean speechless, feeling as if he’d been thrown into an ocean and left to tread the waters with no help. Then, once the shock subsides, the puzzle pieces click into place and it's as if a lightbulb gets turned on above his head.

“No.” He mutters, his anxiety replaced with a sudden building elation. His grin builds on his face, “No way.” 

Cas, who finally managed to settle the small titters leaving his lips, glances over at Dean with an endearingly confused face. “Uh, I don’t… I’m sorry, I'm not sure what that-”

Dean’s hand sweeps out to bury into the secondary coverts again, and Cas yelps for a second time, tumbling backward in his haste to evade the sudden tingling invading his senses. “Gah- De-Dehehean!” He chokes out through a series of tumbling chuckles, a hand lifting to his mouth again to muffle the noise. 

Dean laughs, loud and excited. “You have got to be kidding me!” He grins, his hands chasing the wings down to the ground and scratching into the fluffy feathers. “You’re ticklish?!” 

Cas wriggles from his spot on the grass, hiccups peppering between his startled laughter. “Dehehehean! Whahahat ahahare yohohou- AHAHAHA!” 

Cas’s own words are lost to his mirth, his body trying to curl into a ball while his wings stay splayed out - eager for attention while the host of said wings squirmed uncontrollably. Dean snickers from where he’s settled beside Cas’s wing, his other hand coming up to hold the top of the appendage while the other sneaks in to tickle the feathers. 

“Who would’ve thought, huh?” He grins, “Castiel has ticklish wings. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh this much, man.”

Cas’s arms don’t know what to do with themselves - the rapid electric tingles shooting through his body render him useless and flailing. He grabs onto his forearms and kicks uselessly at the grass, throwing his head back as laughter escapes his mouth. 

“Dehehehean!” He presses out, his eyes squeezed shut instinctively. 

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Whahahat ihihis thihihis?”  

Dean snorts, mostly in surprise. “You’ve never been tickled before?” 

Cas shakes his head rapidly, too caught up in his mirth to give a verbal reply. Dean, seeing that Cas is struggling for air, eases up on the sensitive coverts and settles back into tickling along the secondaries and primaries.��

“Basically, you’ve got sensitive wings,” Dean explains. “Being ticklish is pretty common for humans, it’s our nervous system that makes it possible. Sammy can give you the whole scientific spiel of it if you want. My version, though? Touching the body in a certain way makes someone laugh, it’s a way to mess with people and a way to bond. God knows I tickled Sam so much growing up. He still gets these nervous giggles when people wiggle their fingers at him.” 

Dean shakes his head fondly as he speaks and scratches along the bone of the wing. Cas suddenly bucks with a loud squeal, crashing back into the grass and giggling hysterically. Castiel was giggling. Dean’s grin widened at the sound though his eyes softened. It was rare when he got even a chuckle out of Cas, this was a whole dang gift basket in itself. 

“THIHIhihihis feheheels sohoho strahahange!” Cas manages to get out, his cheeks growing pink from his ongoing laughter, and the subconscious embarrassment of letting out such an unnatural sound for an angel. 

Dean wiggles two fingers into the bend of the wing with a look at his friend. “Good strange or bad strange?”

Cas squeaks in laughter, his hiccupping giggles coming back full force. “Ihihit feheheels nihihice? Buhuhut Ihihi cahahdn’t stohohop mohoving-” Dean’s fingers skim a particularly sensitive spot, causing Cas to roll onto his side, proving his own words.

Dean snickers. “Yeah, that’s normal. The usual reaction is to try and get away….” The rest of Castiel’s words clicked in Dean’s head. “Wait, are you saying you like this?” 

Cas rolls back over and looks up at Dean through his eyelashes. ‘Ihihis thahat wrohong?” He asks through tumbling giggles. 

Dean bites his tongue to stop his mouth from possibly making a fool of himself, but he can’t stop the endeared smile that spreads on his face. “Nah,” he reassures when he’s sure he’s got his emotions under lock again. He tweaks the sensitive spot on the bone just to hear Cas squeal again. “It’s not wrong, Cas.”

Questions answered, Cas lets his head fall back and simply laughs, his chest feeling lighter than it had in, well, ever. The tickling shifted from light skittering, to gentle scratching - Dean’s hand making its way across the sensitive areas. When he dropped to test the scapular of Cas’s wing, Castiel shrieked. 

The sudden jump of octaves made Dean jolt in surprise, but he burst out laughing not a moment later as he watched Cas squirm and laugh twice as hard as before. “Christ on a stick, Cas!” He chuckles warmly. “Gonna scare off all the birds round here.”

Cas twists on the grass and holds his arms tightly, though one of them does let go to swipe in Dean’s direction, nowhere near close, however. “DEHEHEHEAN!” 

Dean opens his mouth to answer when something soft brushes the exposed skin of his ankle from where his pant legs have risen. Turning to look down, Dean’s mouth slips open in shock. A little red flower, which was most definitely not there before, waves its petals in the light breeze. Dean glances around, and to his surprise, there’s a series of small flowers budding and growing around the pair of them, a mix of reds and pinks. Dean’s fingers have slowed to gentle tracing on Castiel’s scapulars, distracted by the small garden of flowers blooming. It’s a rather captivating sight, watching the flowers press through the grass to stand proudly in the sunlight, perfect and pristine to every petal.

Cas meanwhile, is being kept in a giggly form of purgatory of precise, tickling fingers. And as much as he’s enjoying the attention, he needs a break from that spot before he accidentally smites someone - namely Dean. 

“D-Dehehean!” he gasps out again, “P-Plehehease!” 

Snapped out of his stupor, Dean pauses in his wiggling motions, looking back to the angel who slumps into the flower-dotted grass with a giggly sigh of relief. The red flowers match his flushed face, leaning towards Cas from their angle of growth. Dean can’t help but stare. 

After giving his friend a chance to recover, Dean clears his throat. “Cas?” He asks quietly. 

A soft, warm hum leaves Castiel as he calms down, eyelashes fluttering open to look at Dean. “Mhm?” 

Dean glances at the grass. “Did you… did you make these?” 

The angel’s eyebrow lifts in confusion, turning his head to the side to where Dean is looking. “Oh.” He practically chirps in surprise. He sits up on his forearms, glancing around the field where flowers have sprouted. “Ah, yes, I think I did.” His wings rise carefully from the grass to reveal a series of little yellow flowers hidden underneath the feathers. 

Dean’s eyebrows lift to his hair as he takes in the whole field of color. “What are they? I didn’t know you could miracle flowers out of thin air.”

Cas carefully plucks one of the yellow ones off the grass and holds it up to his face to inspect. “I have not made them since I was a fledgling,” he mused, turning the stalk in his fingers idly. “They are buttercups.”

Dean watches as Cas is captivated by the small plant in his fingers. He leans forward slightly to look at it closer, cocking his head to the side curiously. “Why’d you decide to pull out the green thumb again?” 

Cas glances up and gives Dean a small, shy smile. “It was subconscious, I believe,” he murmured. “I haven’t felt this relaxed or happy in a long time. I suppose the flowers are a byproduct of my emotions, flowers do have meanings after all.”

Dean’s heart ached for the angel. He turned to look around again and admired the patches of petals. “Well, I think you made a fine batch of buttercups,” he commented. “Maybe you can grow a few different kinds of flowers around the Bunker. The lawn looks pretty sad, so some flowers would do it good.”

Cas’s face lit up like a damn Christmas tree. “Really?” he asked, “you would like that?”

Dean gives a one-shouldered shrug and lets his smile soften toward the angel. “I trust your florist talents,” he says. “Besides, I think Sam would like it too.”

Cas grins, wide and warm. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Yeah, of course, man. If it makes you happy then-”

“Not just for that,” Cas cuts him off, his smile slipping back into shyness. “About… before. While this whole 'tickling' thing is new to me, I haven’t laughed like that in a while, and the wing grooming was appreciated too. So, thank you for that. It meant a lot.”

Dean is left speechless for what feels like the sixth time that day. He takes in Castiel’s genuine smile and relaxed form, his blue eyes brighter than his angelic glow could hope to achieve. Dean finds himself grinning, soft and sincere. 

“Anytime Cas.”

[chevroletdean]

Ambitious — Chapter 2: The Bunker Ranking

SUMMARY: Dean came up with 'The Bunker Ranking' to motivate their group of hunters. A little competition never hurt anybody, right? It was how he first met her, after all.

SHIP: Dean Winchester x Original Female Character GENRE: Angst & Fluff TO NOTE/WARNINGS: Can be read as a standalone one-shot, timeskip from the first chapter, established relationship, rivalry, pressure to perform, angst, anxiety, hurt/comfort, Phoebe has issues with self-worth and confidence, fluff, Dean's here to kiss it all better WORD COUNT: 3.2k A/N: This second chapter of the Ambitious mini-series marks another entry for the @jacklesversebingo challenge. PROMPT: "Of course, you're good enough, you idiot." CREDIT & LINKS: header by myself ─〃★ gun divider ─〃★ flower divider ─〃★ jacklesversebingo 2024 masterlist ─〃★ series masterlist ─〃★ ao3

⏪PREV. CHAPTER ▶️PLAYLIST

“The what?”

Everyone’s eyes were on Dean. On Dean and his wide smile, all toothy and proud.

“The Bunker Ranking,” he repeated with a firm nod and a just as firm tap of his marker against the whiteboard.

The table he had set up on there included everyone’s names as well as a currently empty kill-counter. Below, there was a rather poorly drawn illustration of a trophy, an underline within waiting to be filled out.

Castiel was tilting his head in that generally confused fashion of his, eyes squinted slightly as if he was trying to decipher the scribbled notes up front. Jack, though also looking a bit lost, sat up straight, fully alert and clearly interested. And despite the way Sam’s eyebrow was raised in doubt, it was Phoebe who was the most skeptical.

“Thanks, babe, I can read,” she sighed with a teasing smirk — a poor attempt of deflecting from her own apprehensions. “What’s it supposed to be, though?”

“Motivation,” Dean shrugged vaguely.

“Dean,” Sam finally groaned, rolling his eyes. “You already have our attention, just elaborate.”

“Fine, okay,” the older Winchester grumbled, then cleared his throat. “It’s a competition, basically. We’re on a roll, eleven cases last month. Let’s amp it up, we can top that. And the best thing about it: We can see who’ll be number one in four weeks.”

Phoebe didn’t like where this was going at all. The fact that they had been working non-stop last month was precisely why the sight of charts and data did not thrill her. To put it bluntly: She needed a break. And she thought they could all use a breather.

But not Dean, apparently. Her boyfriend was all fire and flame, pointing at the drawn trophy once again.

His voice almost sounded like that of a child on Christmas morning: “So, what do you think?”

Phoebe’s teeth were glued together. She wanted to voice her concerns, but admitting to feeling burnt out was like a death sentence.

She remembered her own words from back when they were after the rye wolf: “I never say no to a competition.”

Those words from years ago, when they first met, were hanging in the air. No, they were drilled into all of their brains, set in stone, weighing down on her now.

Phoebe remained tight-lipped. Her last hope was a glance towards Sam, but even from the corners of her eyes she could tell Sam didn’t hate the idea. She thought he might hold a speech on how they can’t afford to be careless, but instead, he gave in with a shrug.

“Sure, whatever,” he said, and while it wasn’t the enthusiastic response Dean wanted, it was no refusal either.

“How do we count the points, though?,” Phoebe asked. “What if we’re working on a case together and—”

Jack chimed in, excitement written all over his face: “We could go on solo hunts, right?”

Good grief. The thought alone had Phoebe’s stomach churn even more. Jack was powerful, but she did not like the idea of sending him out on his own whatsoever.

“I don’t think we should take any unneccessary risks,” Castiel brought up and he never was more of a God sent angel than now.

Finally a voice of reason.

“We can still team up and hunt in groups, and whoever strikes the monster down gets a point,” Cas suggested.

Nevermind.

“That’s the spirit!,” Dean beamed approvingly and that’s how Phoebe knew her fate was sealed.

They were all keen on this little competition, but to Phoebe the question of “Who can kill the most monsters this month?” equated to “Who’s the best hunter and who sucks ass?”

Lately she was feeling more than under the weather, although she’s managed to mask her fatigue just fine. This event would be quite the hassle for her, at least under these circumstances.

She has always been the feisty one and her fire was what had made Dean fall in love with her. Now, just a few years later, she has lost some of that spark. Hunting takes a toll on you and everyone has their limits, right?

She knew this was her life, and with Dean by her side, she wouldn’t trade it for the world. But it wasn’t always easy. Right now it certainly wasn’t.

Even as the others all agreed with either smiles or neutral faces, she wasn’t able to fully match Dean’s enthusiasm.

Where her now boyfriend and she had been energized by their rivalry in the past — serious at first, playful after years of being a couple — she dreads this Bunker Ranking.

Yet, she found herself nodding too, unable to tell him, or anyone. Phoebe didn’t want to sour the mood. Dean was so excited about this, so keen on coming out on top. Who was she to deny him his fun?

But within the next couple of days alone, it became torture for Phoebe. She was barely able to focus on research, to begin with. Her mind was elsewhere. It was nowhere.

The only thing that was driving her in all of this, was anxiety. It would be so awkward to lose this challenge, especially since she was usually known to be a bragging loud-mouth. Her confident attitude was biting her in the ass now.

Dean wouldn’t shut up about it for the rest of the year if he were to best her at their game.

This was the essence of their relationship, after all, no? To a certain degree, at least, they thrived on a little bit of (healthy) rivalry. It was one-sided this time, but he didn’t know that, of course.

Phoebe even considered willingly letting him have the victory, but it would be a bad look on her if she didn’t even try. She had to put in some effort, or at least pretend to. Right? Maybe it was just a bad day, or a bad couple of days. She just needed to get her head back into the game, pull herself together and perform.

There was more than just the victory and her pride at stake, too.

Jack was so hyped and this was the first time she’s seen Dean get along with him so well.

While their youngest addition to the group wasn’t allowed to go on any solo-hunts, Dean and him were working together on a case. All five of them were huddled in the library, each working on their own research. The nephilim proudly waved his findings in Dean’s face, earning him an approving pat on the shoulder.

How can she in good conscience act like a party pooper? This Bunker Ranking System seemed to glue the group together and she didn’t want to be the one to ruin it. Dean had that rare sparkle in his green eyes. No, she couldn’t possibly back out now.

“Good one, kiddo,” Dean cheered, even gave Jack a high-five. “Keep it up and we’ll outrun these sloths in no time.”

They had their differences and quarrels in the past, Jack always seeking Dean’s approval, and this was his chance to get it. Butting in felt like destroying a seedling before it could bloom.

But, even if they were meant in teasing jester, Dean’s words cut deep. A sloth. She didn’t want Dean to think of her like that — if her passion was what he loved about her, how disappointed would he be if he saw she had none of that anymore?

As silly as she knew the thought was, the doubt was gnawing at her all the same.

In a way, that did motivate her to put in more effort. But at what cost? She barely slept, fear of failure making her agitated and skittish. Capable of a hunter as she was, the upcoming days were filled with frustration.

Two weeks in and she was staring at the leader board. It was the middle of the night and the bunker was so silent you could hear a pin drop. Phoebe was sitting at the main table. Although the laptop was sitting in front of her, a news article about a possibly haunted house, all she could look at was that godforsaken whiteboard.

Castiel was already at five points — lucky him, for finding a whole group of demons and smiting them all in one go. Sam and Jack were close behind, their points even since they were teaming up most of the time. Everyone knew Sam had scored all of those six points mostly by himself, but he had insisted on splitting them up evenly, leading to three for himself and another three for Jack.

Dean currently came on top with a whopping nine kills — and of course he was not shy about it either. He kept reminding everyone, 24/7, making it his whole personality.

He had every reason to. Nine kills in fourteen days was impressive. Sure, one of them had been a vampire nest, one Phoebe and him had taken out together. Thing is, he took out five vampires all by himself, while she had only managed to decapitate one.

“Better luck next time, sweetheart,” Dean had been grinning and wagging his eyebrows at her for the rest of the day and her confidence had been crumbling ever since.

Putting aside all his boasting, Phoebe knew right then and there that she was pretty much done for. Adding that one demon she had taken care of last week, her score was rotting at a sad two.

A two. A meager, miserable two.

Dean Winchester: 9

Castiel: 5

Sam Winchester, Jack Line: 3 (Although those were a straight up lie.)

Phoebe Bennett: 2

The very bottom of the pyramid. And honestly, she had zero hopes of catching up.

All she could do was sit in this main hall and look at the whiteboard with a frown. There was a lump in her throat, forbidding her from swallowing her tears. She couldn’t clench her teeth hard enough to bite them back.

A shaky sigh escaped her lips, though it sounded more like a small sniffle, or even a whine.

The numbers weren’t lying, she felt utterly useless to the group. When did she fall behind this much?

Caught up in her own mind, she didn’t even hear the steps approaching from the hallway.

“You’re still up?”

Dean’s voice had her jolt in her chair. She quickly cleared her throat and wiped at her face, hoping with her back facing him he couldn’t see her current state. Or, that if he did, he’d attribute it to the late hour and her being tired.

It wouldn’t be a surprise — and she did feel tired, too. All she wanted was the comfort of a soft bed and Dean’s warm arms around her. But she was also too stubborn to give up now.

“Just doing some research,” she mumbled, without even daring to turn around. To emphasize her statement, her fingers started flying over the keyboard of her laptop, eagerly copying some notes from the article.

He paused for a second and she felt him staring holes into the back of her head, as if he could read her thoughts that way. In a way, she knew he probably could.

“Need some help?”

“So you can steal more kills?” She snorted, but what was supposed to sound like a light-hearted joke, felt like actual bile in her throat. Not directed towards Dean, necessarily. He hadn’t so much stolen any of her kills as she had just given them away freely.

“So you can get some rest,” Dean corrected her.

Surprised by his words, both firm in that scolding way and also gentle in that caring way of his, the movement of her hands froze. She could feel her lower lip tremble, but she bit down on it, hard, and just shook her head instead.

“C’mon, Phoebe,” Dean sighed. “It’s 3 AM, research can wait.”

“I need to get this done,” Phoebe insisted, but her voice was shaky and her shoulders slumped.

Dean wasn’t having any of it. He walked up the remaining few steps, stopped behind her and reached over, ultimately closing the lid of her laptop and ignoring her protests.

In fact, he cut right through her annoyed “Hey!”, simply taking a seat in the chair beside hers and keeping one hand pressed down onto the laptop.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

Although she wanted to glare at her boyfriend, Phoebe still had her gaze averted, too fearful of exposing her red-rimmed eyes.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she grumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just onto something.”

“Seems to me like the only thing you’re on is on edge,” Dean hummed.

His free hand reached for one of hers and he squeezed it gently, prompting her to finally look at him. The deep worry line between her brows and the glassy shine in her eyes only confirmed his suspicions.

Dean’s eyes softened in a way that made her dam finally break. As her tears were spilling over, her face burnt up with shame.

“I don’t wanna lose this stupid game,” she cried at last.

“Whoa there,” Dean hushed. “C’mere.”

He swiftly tugged at her wrist, abandoning the laptop to circle both of his arms around her waist. Phoebe didn’t resist when he pulled her into his lap, nor did she stop him from cupping her face and wiping away those fat, hot tears that kept rolling down her cheeks.

“It’s just a game, baby,” he muttered.

The gravel in his voice, hoarse from waking up in the middle of the night, was as soothing as his touch. Her sobs eased into sniffles, though when she cast her eyes downwards again, he tilted her chin up and looked her directly in the eyes.

“I just thought it would be a fun challenge.”

There it was. Those were the words she had dreaded to hear. Phoebe didn’t want Dean to think of her as ‘not fun’ or anything of the sort. Her bottom lip began wobbling again, corners of her mouths turned downwards.

“I’m failing it. All of it. I’m failing you,” she hiccuped weakly, her words interjected by her flustered stuttering.

“What? No, ‘s not true ‘n you know that,” Dean retorted, his thumb stroking across her cheekbone again. “You’re not failing anyone, least of all me.”

“But—” Phoebe paused midsentence, struggling to find the right words. “I’ve only managed two kills, that’s like… I might as well just quit hunting altogether.”

Part of her knew that she was exaggerating. She was being dramatic, but all this pent up frustration, the pressure, the anxiety — she couldn’t contain any of it any longer. The self doubt was explosive.

Even Dean seemed to be at a loss for a moment. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her like this and it certainly distraught him. Worst of all, he felt guilty for even starting the whole challenge.

“Alright, stop,” Dean cooed gently. “You think your worth is measured by how many kills you’ve got under your belt? It’s not. And, hell, if it were, then you’d be ahead of all of us, combined, by far. So what if the past few weeks have been slower?”

“You’re just sugarcoating it to make me feel better,” Phoebe mumbled under a still quivering voice. “It’s not just the past few weeks. I just… I suck. I can’t compete with you anymore, I’m not good enough for this job and I’m not good enough for y—”

Dean silenced her swiftly by gently squeezing her cheeks together. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, sweetheart.”

“It’s true,” she whined and wiggled free from his grip, squirming away. “You’re like the best hunter I’ve ever met, Dean, and I can’t keep up with you and it feels like we’re drifting apart, like you’re slipping away and I can’t reach your level anymore and—”

Again, her rambling was interrupted. This time by a pair of warm lips on top of her own.

Dean held her close in his embrace, allowing her to melt into him, to relax against his broad frame. A silent, but effective way of letting her know that he was there. He wasn’t going anywhere. He’d always be there to support her, just like she would for him.

He poured all of those unspoken words into the slow dance of their lips, willing to kiss her until she’d understand.

Grounded by the gesture, Phoebe’s tension eased slightly. Enough for Dean to pull back again, just enough to look directly at her. He leaned his forehead against hers, his breath still warm on her lips and his taste still sweet on her tongue.

“Of course, you’re good enough, you idiot,” he whispered.

Phoebe’s gaze flickered away from his glossy-with-spit lips, up to the vital green of his eyes and for the first time this night, it felt like she was genuinely listening to him.

“This whole challenge— I wanted you to see how you bring out the best in me. And I wanted to do the same for you,” Dean explained. “I didn’t realize the pressure I put on you. Who cares who wins or how many points you get? You’re literally the best thing that happened to me and I love you, shittily drawn trophy or not.”

Phoebe swallowed thickly, unsure of how to respond. This all got blown way out of proportion, but it had seemed so important to Dean that she hadn’t wanted to disappoint him.

Dean’s follow-up question broke her heart: “Why didn’t you tell me it was too much?”

She shrugged lamely, blinking away more tears. “You seemed so excited, I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“I was excited to do some hunting with my girl. We’re not just some rivals, we’re partners, remember?” Dean said. “It’s not fun if you’re forcing yourself.”

As dumb as she felt for it, she hadn’t thought about it that way before. She thought her struggles were her own problem, or that she didn’t want to bother anyone else with it.

Sensing she had no reply, Dean continued: “Tell you what, I’m a winner simply for scoring you, and you’ll always be the champion of my heart anyway.” He said it teasingly, with a playful half-grin, and he snorted when she rolled her eyes at his cheesy puns.

“You know that’s not what this is about,” she huffed, her annoyed act belied by the pink blush dusting her nose.

“No, it definitely is,” Dean doubled-down, voice smooth and steady again to convey his sincerity in the matter. “I mean it, you’ll always rank number one in my eyes.”

Dean Winchester Taglist:

Put a green heart 💚 in the comments to be added to the Dean x Reader taglist. (Please note: Ageless blogs will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts!)

@ladysparkles78  @ariasong11 @winchester-whiskey @whormotional @spacecowgirl126

@zepskies @calibootsgirl @hot-and-confused @spookyfunhottub @berryblues46

@midnight--raine @emmy21842 @whichwitchwanda @foxyjwls007 @emma1998sblog

@lyarr24 @charliesangel67 @spn-reader @whump-loverz @cassieriddle713

@ilovedeanwinchester4 @amberlthomas @mccartneyqp

[sastielsfandom]

Sam leaned on the Impala, opening a piece of gum and popping it into his mouth, squinting at the sun. Castiel was watching him carefully, "What is that?"

"Gum," Sam said, taking another stick out, "want a piece?"

"It's not food, is it?" Castiel questioned, taking the wrapped stick of gum, smelling it and frowning. 

"Not quite." Sam said, laughing through his nose, "You just chew it."

Castiel opened it, tilting his head, continuing his inspection, "And then what?"

"And then you spit it out when you're done with it." Sam said, and waited for Castiel to try it, but the angel was more focused on the wrapper than the gum.

"Here," Sam said, taking it out of the wrapper, tucking that bit into Castiel's trench coat, "just try it."

Castiel slowly brought it to their mouth, and mimicked Sam by throwing it into their mouth. Just as quickly as it went it, it went out, landing on the ground, "That was disgusting."

Sam tried to refrain from laughing, instead cleared his throat, "Um, most people chew it before they get to that part, and I guess I should've specified you throw it away in the trash. Not the floor."

"Do you like your gum?" Castiel asked, watching Sam chew. 

Sam raised an eyebrow and shrugged, "Yeah, I guess-" Castiel pulled Sam down into a kiss, swiping the gum from his mouth, and chewed it just as Sam did. 

"I prefer the gum like this," Castiel said, nodding, looking at the gum that had landed on the floor, "not like that."

Sam's face was beyond red, he rubbed the back of his neck, and turned the other way, "Um, yeah, uh, if you chewed it enough, it would've done the same thing."

Castiel frowned at Sam's reaction, "Do you want it back?"

"You keep it, Cas." Sam reassured, and relieved as Dean came out of the gas station, even though he was waving around beef jerky, again. 

---------

Sam had just returned from the convenience store, two bags full of everyone's weird lists, Dean had taken both bags out of Sam's hands, digging into them, "Sam, you just got gum,  have you been chewing your toenails again?"

"No, is that something you do often, Dean?" Sam shot back, as Dean tossed it to him, Sam tossed it to Castiel. 

Castiel smiled, holding it to their chest, "Thank you."

"Why'd you get Cas gum?" Dean asked, rummaging through the bag that was most likely Sam's, but he was intrigued, "That's the benefit of having an angel around, no extra expenses."

"It came from my money, not yours, so shut up." Sam said, taking the bag back and shoving Dean's towards him. Bobby already got his stuff, because Sam knew Dean. And so did Bobby. 

"Bobby!" Dean called in a whiny tone. 

Bobby wanted to ignore him, but that tone told him to just answer, "What?"

"Sam told me to shut up!" Bobby rolled his eyes, "So why are you still yapping?" He got no answer, and was quite satisfied with that. 

Dean turned to face a smug Sam, and shook his head, and pointed at him, "Wow, just turning them all against me, Sammy."

"Uh-huh, clearly that's what I'm doing." Sam said.

"It is," Dean said, nodding, and Sam could see his brain turning, "it's your masterplan."

"Yeah, you got me," Sam shrugged, "I'm sure when Dad said to watch out for me this is what he meant. Do we wait until I give him a lollipop and then bring out the shotgun or is this crime enough?"

"That's not funny," Dean said, which made Sam laugh, "It's a little funny."

"What's a lollipop?" Castiel asked, and before Sam could answer Dean jumped in, "Do not give Castiel lollipops."

"I won't." Sam said, unconvincingly, but Dean took his bag, and did the universal, I'm watching you sign, which Sam ignored as he waited for him to walk away fully. 

Once he disappeared around the corner, Sam pulled out a bag that may or may have not nothing but lollipops... Just as he handed it to Castiel, Dean popped back out, "A big bag, really?"

Sam tried looking empathetic but his mischief shone right through, "So is it my gun or yours?"

"Sam!" Dean shouted, and the two were off running, Sam laughing loudly as he ran outside. 

Bobby walked in, hearing the chaos existing the house, "Do I want to know?" He asked Castiel. 

Castiel had no idea if Bobby did, but decided to answer anyway, "Sam gave me gum and lollipops, Dean disapproves, and now Sam is asking if Dean should kill him. I can't tell if it's a yes or no."

Bobby looked outside and back at the angel and the bag he was currently holding, "They'll tire themselves out. What flavors you got?" Castiel lifted up the bag and Bobby grabbed the treats before he went outside to watch the show. Might as well get some entertainment out of it.

[amor-ad-nauseam]

Silly one shot with my oc and tfw cause I have writers block

Notes; takes place during season 9, angel!oc

————————————————————————

Sam jolts awake to the sound of a loud crash coming from somewhere in the bunker. Adrenaline surges through his every synapse so quickly he doesn’t even remember grabbing his gun or racing out of the door.

What he didn’t expect to find when he reached his target was the group of 4 idiots standing before him. Castiel, Dean, Lailah, and Kevin each wore an expression of a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “What the hell…” he trailed off, his eyes slowly moving through the room.

Lailah and Kevin were crouched on the floor covered head to toe in flour. They were attempting to scoop what looked like it was supposed to be dough (but was all too sticky) back into a now dented metal bowl. “Oh…hey, Saammm,” Lailah said, drawing out his name in a guilty manner.

“We didn’t wake you, did we?” Castiel asked. He and Dean were stood over by the stove. Dean, one hand on an oven knob ready to preheat and the other holding a bowl which conjoined he and Castiel. Cas’ other hand was stopped in its tracks, whisking a pot of butter.

“It looks like a damn bakery threw up on you guys,” Sam stated in confusion as he tucks his gun into the waistband of his pajama pants.

“…We wanted cinnamon rolls,” Kevin said in a small voice.

“Yeah,” Dean conceded. “And you’ve been on your health-nut-rabbit-food crap all week.”

“Sooo, you guys all decided to have a secret midnight baking party without me?”

The room echos with murmurs of “yeah.” And “pretty much.” Sam frowns.

Dean passes Cas the bowl with cinnamon sugar, Kevin and Lailah unpause their attempted scooping and Cas stirs. Sam watches as the four stooges begin to gradually settle back into their previous occupations and while his adrenaline rush was gone, his grogginess and confusion seemed as though they were here to stay.

“Lai, you don’t even eat…?” He said, half a statement, half a question.

“And yet I was invited to the secret baking party.” She shrugs, looking over her shoulder at him.

Sam sighs, rolling up his sleeves, he goes to help Kevin and Lailah clean the sticky doughy mess from the floor.

“If you can’t beat em, join em.” Sam mutters to himself.

[where-dreamers-go]

"Kill This Love" spn Gabriel x Reader

(A/N: Look what I found in my notebook from about five months ago. The idea is written in pink mainly and some is in the margin in black in the beginning… Reader was put under a dangerous spell that forced them to have a fierce goal of killing Dean, Sam, Castiel, and anyone who got in their way. Warnings: canon violence, guns, angst, use of (Y/N), a dagger, mention of a wound (not descriptive). Word Count: 963 words)

~~~

It had snuck up on you. There had been no signs to alert you ahead of time.

Forced under a dangerous spell. A fierce drive to end Dean, Sam, Castiel, and anyone who got in your way. The perfect spell to put on a hunter.

The group hadn’t seen you in a few weeks. So none of them expected even your presence. Your last hunt was successful, but someone saw an opportunity.

Someone unknown and immediately on my list, you thought.

You entered the bunker in a raged trance. A handgun at the ready.

A bunker was hardly useful if its inhabitants were caught vulnerable, all safe, and relaxed.

Sam glanced up in surprise while setting the table for lunch. Any smile disappeared.

BANG!

“Ah! What—?” Sam dove behind the counter. Bullet in his leg.

You were lucky to have not aimed at a vital organ. Yet your legs continued you forward.

Dean came running in, weapon drawn, from the shot fired and Sam’s shouting. He was extremely shocked to see you.

You proceeded to unload the rest of the round trying to hit Dean.

Why don’t they get out of here? Trick me into a room!

The brothers’ attempts to reason with you fell through. You could listen all you wanted, but the struggle inside continued. You reloaded in a moment.

You wanted blood.

All the while they tried to get the upper-hand. Predictable.

Do something different!

Dean made an urgent call to Castiel as soon as Sam tackled you to the ground in an attempt to restrain you. The tall Winchester moved fast.

You hoped he was strong enough. You hoped they all were.

Castiel popped in while trying to assess the situation. Hearing as your mind watched on as your body attacked your friends. You were straining to take back control.

You bit Sam’s clothed arm. He backed off enough and your fist made contact with his wound.

Castiel moved in to intervene just as you pulled an angel blade out from your layers of clothing.

In a crouch, your expression was hardly your own.

“If you can not stop yourself, I will,” Castiel warned.

“Snap out of it!” Dean urged.

You eyed between the three of them.

Dean walked closer.

“Listen, (Y/N),” Sam said clearly. “Things will get bad—painful—you don’t want to do this. You can stop.”

Castiel and Dean stepped closer.

Of course I want to stop! I WANT THIS TO ALL STOP! I need help, please!

“We can help you,” said Dean.

Your grip on the angel blade only tightened. Fear of the pain to come didn’t stop you from targeting Sam again, him and his disadvantage you inflicted.

Curses echoed through the room.

To your horror, you were striking at Sam. Your friend dodged your attacks with experienced turns.

Kicking low, you made contact with his knee and lunged forward.

Contact wasn’t made.

Sam was unharmed.

Yet the spell over you was not yet broken. Your arms were in a vice grip. Blade unmoving in your hold.

“Easy.” Gabriel’s voice whispered from behind you. “Just give me a second, cupc—.”

In a small bound, you locked your legs around one of the archangel’s legs and pulled him down in a tumble of limbs.

No! Do something. Get the blade away! Hurry!

The two of you struggled. Only Gabriel was on defense, for the sake of you both.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Gabriel yanked the blade away from you before tossing it out of reach.

Your body couldn’t wiggle out nor break any holds.

Gabriel snapped his fingers.

Tension washed away from your limbs.

You inhaled audibly.

It was over.

You fell into Gabriel’s chest, no longer resisting and attacking. Letting him take your weight as he sat up.

“I gotcha’,” Gabriel whispered.

Testing the movement in your fingers, you focused on your own breathing. Control was back and any thought otherwise unnerved you.

I never want that to happen again, you thought.

Gabriel rubbed a circle on your knee in comfort.

“(Y/N)?” Sam called. “Hey.”

You blinked and your heart sank.

“You good?” Dean asked, gun still in hand.

“I’m so sorry.” You finally spoke. Tears pooled in your eyes. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hey, it wasn’t on purpose.” Sam reasoned.

“That doesn’t make it any better. It could’ve been so much worse.”

“Do you know who put the spell on you?” Castiel questioned.

The brothers looked to him pointedly.

“That’s what was going on?” Dean lowered his weapon.

“I don’t know who did it.” You admitted. “But I’ll gladly pay them a visit for what they made me do. I’m so sorry, guys.” Your gaze lowered to Sam’s leg.

Crap.

“Gabe,” you pointed to Sam.

“On it.” He stood up and walked to the Winchester. “Just a second,” he knelt down, “don’t get any ideas.” He winked.

“Sure.” Sam said, not much in a joking mood.

After Sam was healed, you debriefed the group on your actions for the last two weeks and your last hunt. All in order try to find clues of who did it.

“Thank you for helping.” You rested your hand on Gabriel’s as you both sat in the library. “Also, sorry for the ground wrestling death match.”

“You asked for help. I’m not going to leave you hanging…or trying to literally obliterate your friends. Your wrestling could be better.”

“But I don’t know how many apologizes can make up for that. I could have hurt you. I already owe the Winchesters for the surprise visit.”

“I accept dessert and a movie.” Gabriel said simply.

“No dinner?”

“Nope.”

You nodded. “Fair enough. I can buy that chocolate pie I’ve been eyeing.”

“Good to know you still have good taste.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

~~~

(A/N: If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @

Supernatural Tags: 

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

[castielmydarling]

Suptober 2023-Day 4: Nimbus

I Can See You-850 words on AO3 or below. Summary: Dean is hit with a spell to see what's in front of him

“Dean!” Cas shouts running to where Dean has collapsed. 

Sam approaches the witch, gun drawn. “What did you do?” he yells. 

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” she pleads. “He’s fine. It’s just a simple spell so he can see what’s in front of him, so he can see that I’m good, I’m not a threat. Not all witches are evil. You know that better than anyone.” She cautiously gestures at Sam. “I can see the magic coming off you. I tried telling him it wasn’t me but he wouldn’t listen!” She says angry. “So, I did the only thing I could think of to show him I wasn’t evil. I’m not lying. I didn't kill those people!” She yells frustrated. Fucking hunters.

Cas helps Dean up. “Are you ok?” He asks, worried. 

Dean rubs his head. “Yeah no thanks to this bitch.” He says. When he looks at her he sees it. A shimmering light surrounds her, almost like she’s walking through fairy dust. A quick glance at Sam reveals the same, not as much or as bright as her, but it's there. 

“Well?” Sam lowers his weapon a degree but he’s ready to take the shot at Dean’s word. 

“Yeah, yeah. Your auras match. She’s telling the truth.” He grunts. 

The witch breathes a sigh of relief. “It’s not actually our auras you’re seeing…” she starts before Dean cuts her off. 

“I don’t give a fuck what it is!” he yells exasperated. “Sam, get her out of here. Find out what she knows.”

Sam puts his gun away. “So what is he seeing?” he asks as he walks her away. Dean might not care but he’s interested in what kind of energy he’s giving off. 

Cas is still holding on to Dean worried. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just feel a little sore. Her so-called simple spell really knocked me out.” He looks at Cas for the first time since being hit, he takes a step back. “Woah.” 

Beautiful white light shimmers and glows around Castiel. A halo of intensely bright light is concentrated above him. It almost hurts to look at him but Dean doesn't want to look away. Like a moth to a flame he reaches out to touch, afraid and excited at the same time. 

“Dean?”

“Do you always look like this?” He says in awe. 

Cas looks down at the same outfit he’s worn pretty much the entire time he’s known Dean. “Since I first took Jimmy Novak as a vessel, yes. There have been a few wardrobe changes, this coat is not the original nor is the tie. And I suppose this body shows typical signs of aging due to my inconsistent levels of grace.”

Dean laughs. “No. I mean the light that’s around you.” He says, mesmerized. “Your halo, it’s…it’s so beautiful.” He finally reaches up to touch it. He can see his hand go through it but he can’t feel anything. 

Cas rolls his eyes. The spell. He remembers now what the witch said. Show him what’s right in front of him. 

“Yes, Dean, I always look like this. And it’s not a halo. You must be seeing some residual side effects of my true form contained in a vessel on this plane. The spell must be bringing it to light, so to speak. It's temporary, I assure you.”

“But I like it.” Dean pouts. He waves his hand through the halo again. “Can you feel that?”

Cas laughs. “ No. I wasn’t even aware this was happening. It’s just particles, like fairy dust. It’s not a part of me.”

“I don’t know” Dean can’t stop touching the halo even though he can’t actually feel anything. “This halo seems pretty Angel-like to me. A ring around an angel's head? That’s a halo.” He takes a step back to look at Cas and the area around him. 

“Now what?” Cas asks amused. 

“I’m looking for your harp.” He steps closer to lift up the trench coat. 

“Dean, for the last time I don’t have a harp.” He says laughing. “I do not know how to play any musical instrument.”

“I don’t know, you keep insisting your halo isn’t a halo so I thought you might be lying about the harp.” He teases. 

He brings Cas in, kissing him deeply. His eyes are closed but he can see the light getting brighter. The kiss even feels different. 

“How long do you think the spell will last?” He says breathless. 

“I don’t know.” Cas replies. “While she said it was a simple spell it must be pretty powerful if you can see my essence. I would say at least a day. Why?”

“Good. Let’s get back to our room. I want to see what else you’re hiding underneath all these layers.” He says grabbing the coat and suit jacket. Not even getting to the dress shirt or undershirt Cas is wearing. He really does wear too many clothes for his own good. He pulls Cas along toward the Impala, forever grateful they now book two rooms when they hunt. 

“Seriously, Dean. There is no harp.”

[daughterofcain-67]

𝕽𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 (𝔭𝔱. 3)

(Dean Winchester x Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: The Winchester's have finally made it to Ohio to begin their hunt and Sam is looking forward to finally meeting this 'Daughter of Cain' Castiel has told him about. But how will Dean handle the real reason why they were here and what if this ends up not being a key to defeating Metatron after all? And would you even be willing to help Dean Winchester?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SPN spoilers, typical SPN violence,

Sam and Dean have finally made it to Ohio and they had just checked into their hotel room. It was about mid afternoon and Dean set his stuff down on the mattress he'd likely listen to music on rather than sleep on. Then he was already almost out the door.

"Wait, Dean, where are you going?" Sam asked as he set his stuff down and started following his brother.

"We have to check out the tattoo parlors, right? The sooner we figure out which one we need to go to the better. Maybe whatever lead this is has something to do with Metatron." The elder brother answered.

"We don't know that for sure but how would we know which one to start with? There's like a half a dozen shops we drove by. We can't just storm into every one of them guns blazing." Sam reminded and Dean rolled his eyes a little, growing a little frustrated that Sam was always worried about planning things. But he supposed he was right.

"Well, you and Cass were the ones that found this lead, or case, or whatever this is. Did he say which one the demon supposedly entered and never came out of?" Dean asked.

"Well, no. But we can pose as Feds working on a missing person's case just like we do when we're hunting monsters. Cass got a picture of the vessel that went missing." Sam spoke.

"Hold on, how did he get a hold of that? And why is he even worried about a demon? He's not working with Crowley again is he? Did he forget what happened the last time with Purgatory?" Dean asked and Sam quickly shook his head.

"No, he's not working with Crowley. The demon overtook the vessel while an angel was using it. I guess the demon won possession somehow." Sam answered and a look of confusion appeared on Dean's face.

"You've got to wonder why the demon did that. That vessel's gonna need a lot of therapy after an angel and a demon possessed him." Dean said.

"That's assuming the vessel is even still alive. Cass wants to know if whatever killed that demon had a reason for not being found. And if we can talk to this person then maybe we can get its help against Metatron." What was said was almost true in a way, but Sam was more concerned about this girl knowing more about helping his brother.

Sam knew that if he told Dean what this hunt was really about, then he'd probably never hear the end of it. He'd rather just get Dean here, have the girl take a look at the mark and tell Dean to reconsider - even if it wasn't as simple as that.

“And if they can’t beat Metatron, or even help find a way for that matter, then what?”

“Dean, let’s just give this person a shot. If she can’t help us out then there’s bound to be something else. We’ll get through it just like we always have.” Sam reassured, but Dean’s ears perked up.

“A ‘she’ huh? So you know what we’re looking for and didn’t say anything?” Dean inquired, clearly frustrated that his brother was withholding some sort of information from him.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s aggravation and he answered, “Yes, she’s a she, and it’s just based off some information that Cass found out for us. It’s the best we can do for the time being so we might as well take this opportunity while we have the chance.”

After a few seconds of silence and after Dean used those few seconds to think, he let out a heavy yet not satisfied sigh since he knew that his brother was probably right and maybe he was looking at this case wrong. He still hoped this wouldn’t be a waste of time.

"Well then, we've got work to do. Lets break out the suits and head over to the station. Maybe some street security cameras will lead us where we need to go."

And with that, the case began

You finished up cleaning up your area from where your last client sat. You had to say, it was oddly therapeutic for you to create some art through tattoos, even if it was whatever these humans wanted. It was a distraction from who you were, and the mark you were burdened with.

"Thank you again for the tattoo, Y/N! I'll see you again soon I'm sure." Said one of your clients before he walked out of the door.

You glanced up at the man who was leaving. He about six feet tall, one arm was covered in a completed sleeve and the other arm was in progress. His hair was like a raven and he had icicle colored eyes.

He was indeed one of your regulars. In fact, you did do most of the work on his arms. But you didn't know why he seemed so insistent on coming back to see you. Of course you knew a part of it was because of the quality, the same reason any other of your clients would return.

However, some of your other appointments in the past have seen him in your little shop and thought he was some sort of interest of yours. Of course with you being a demon and all, you had no interest in this human, romantic or otherwise. You supposed it was one of those humane feelings you lacked, despite angels and demons assuming you had feelings or anything at all.

Once your cleaning was done, you realized that you didn't have any clients at the moment, so it gave you a little time before someone else would come in.

You sat in your chair behind the register and you started to think about what happened yesterday. You thought about the second demon you killed.

You knew some human by the name of Dean Winchester was the other holder of the Mark of Cain outside of you and your father. And if your father seemed to have no interest in killing Abaddon himself, that only meant that Dean was the only one strong enough to kill your mother since you hadn't done so yourself.

You couldn't help but wonder though: what on Earth was Cain thinking by giving a human the mark if he knew the consequences it had on humans? Was the hunter really that desperate for a solution that he had to resort to something that horrible?

You lifted the sleeve of the shirt you were wearing and looked down at your birthmark. You wondered how much more pain it brought to that human if he's so new to having such a thing. You wonder just how vast his oceans of blood was growing. Had he killed his family? His friends? How far was he willing to go, how far has he come since he was given this curse?

And what kind of a fool would even agree to have this thing?

You shook your head and rolled your sleeve down before you took your sketch book and started drawing to come up with some other tattoo designs Incase customers weren’t sure what they wanted or they just wanted to see your artwork before deciding to commit to getting a tattoo.

As you started to sketch your mind went blank for a moment.

Suddenly, you found yourself in a forest full of dead trees. The sky was an ugly grey. You looked around at all of the depressing and pitifully dull surroundings only to find a man standing a few years away. His hair was longer, a salt and pepper beard covering the lower half of his face and a pair of piercing blue eyes that you never thought you would actually see.

“Oh Father of mine. What’s the special occasion? I didn’t intend on actually meeting you for another few centuries.” You asked with the rolling of your own eyes and you put your hands into your pockets.

“He’s coming. The human that you thought made a ‘stupid choice.’ Dean Winchester.” Cain told you, and you tilted your head a little to the left.

“Is that so? And why are you telling me this? As of a few moments ago, everyone was sure you didn’t know I existed. Now what’s with the sudden obligation to help your kin?” You asked.

“I’m not here to help. I’ve always known you had existed. Abaddon must not have realized that I’d be able to sense the mark in another person. Or well, in your case, another demon.” Your father began to explain, “I warned Dean about the cost when I gave him my mark. He was the one that insisted so he could kill your mother. I’ve even told him that one day, he may have to kill me. In fact, I’m in the process of killing my kin, whether they have the mark or not.”

One of your brows arched at the sudden information dump and you continued to listen.

“Anyway, it seems his brother is worried about the effects the mark has on Dean already. I’ve no doubt you’ve already had a couple of visitors wanting to find you.”

“Well, only one. Of course he didn’t make it. But it was that Crowley fellow that sent the poor bastard my way. The only other demon was one that I summoned and that’s how I found out Crowley needed me to find some kind of info on the mark. Apparently he’s never heard of the Book of the Damned to try and look up information himself. Guess he want’s the information to hold over the Winchesters’ heads for whatever reason.” You explained.

“He’s a demon. Of course he’s going to use manipulation like that.” He said.

“Well ouch.” You feigned the offense and your father looked at you, quite unamused.

“Either way, the Winchesters are coming to see you. They may be in your town already. Be on guard. Sam is the one that would rather talk his way out of any situation. But Dean, he’s already killed many. You mustn’t kill Dean, no matter how much you want to because he’s needed for a purpose.” You father said and your brows narrowed.

“Awe, Dad. Do you care for this human? I thought you died and became a demon. Did you get your hands on the good stuff that makes you feel all human again?” You questioned, referring to human blood, and you could tell the man in front of you was getting rather annoyed with your remarks.

“Metatron is a threat to demons and angels alike. You’re a demon, and you don’t think Metatron will come after you? It’s been said that he is the former Scribe of God himself. I don’t care if you have an indifference about the Earth’s situation. But I’m telling you that you should go ahead and help these boys. It doesn’t matter if you succumb to your urges to kill one of them in the end. Dean may end up killing me if you don’t. But for now, until Metatron is killed, it would be in your own best interest to listen to what those two brothers have to say. Dean cannot handle the mark for an eternity like you and I can. Once Metatron is defeated he may need your help getting a hold of himself.”

“For the record,” You interrupted, “Metatron doesn’t even know I exist. The only two demons that had proof i existed are dead. So what if two humans come seeking my help because of this blasted thing you and I are stuck with? Why should I care to help them? If he dies, I hear he has a palpable reputation. A hunter that saved the world, a slayer of angels and demons alike, he would make a good demon himself one day if he goes the path you went on.”

Cain stepped closer to you and he stared at you for a moment as if he were conducting some sort of analysis.

“You shouldn’t care. But even if you are fully demon, you were made with magic. Your father was once human. Your mother used a human vessel to conceive you. You tell yourself you don’t have human attributes. You tell yourself that there is no chance that you would care to do anything other than kill. But even rebellion against your mother, refusing to kill me, those are humane. Even if it’s just a little. And being around humans in your little tattoo shop, you’ve seen what being human is like. One day they’d teach you what it means to care if they haven’t already.” Cain said.

Yes you claim not to care about things like humans. Like that regular client that you work on tattoos for. You don’t care for him, or anyone. You hate that idea of being weak because of the slim chance of humanity slipping in. The smallest bit of you fears humanity. Some of your clients come in and get tattoos covered up because someone they cared about hurt them deeply and they want to replace the memory. Other clients get tattoos in remembrance of the loved ones they’ve lost.

The truth us, you weren’t sure if you really have a trace of humanity in you. But you know that caring for people is a path you don’t want to go on, which is a part of why you couldn’t hate your mark. Killing monsters, and now demons, yes it gives you some kind of pain relief, but killing things remind you that you’re a killing machine. That was what you were meant for if nothing else. You were a full demon and you never had the chance to be human. You didn’t want that chance.

“Cain, the whole point of me going into hiding was to stay out of the mess you and Abaddon had. She made me to kill you. I don’t see a point to that. I would have followed your steps in killing the last Knight of Hell even if she is my birth mother if Dean didn’t end up killing her for me. I don’t care for any of this. The only reason I opened up a shop was to at least make some kind of living. A girl needs a place to stay after all. Apparently I’m not old enough for retirement and get a little patch of land like you did.” You finally spoke again.

Your father looked at you, a gaze that made you wonder if he knew something that you didn’t. The thought was unsettling and you rolled your eyes.

“Fine. Just because Metatron sounds like an asshole that needs to be taken care of. I’ll keep somewhat of an open mind for the Winchesters. Just because one of them was worthy enough to have your mark.” You said.

“Very Well. They should be in your shop to see you in a few minutes. Be prepared.” Cain said.

Once you opened your eyes again you realized that you were back in your tattoo shop with your sketchbook in hand with an image of the gloomy forest you were in. You couldn’t shake that feeling that your father may have known something that you didn’t. But you didn’t want to look to far into it. But you knew that once you gave those boys whatever information they thought you could give them, even if it wouldn’t be that much, then they’d be out of your lives for good and you can go back to your own life.

But that was when you sensed it.

The burning in your arm was different. And it was more intense than what you’ve ever felt before. You knew you didn’t feel it with your father because that was a mere vision but this? This was real. He was coming.

Dean Winchester was there.

You heard the doorbell at the front of your store ring out and when you looked up, you saw two men in professional retire.

“Winchesters. It’s about time the two of you showed up.” You spoke. The two of them looked like they were shocked that you knew who they were and you lifted a brow.

“Really? I’ve had two demons come into my shop, I knew hunters wouldn’t be too far behind. And demons know hunters when they see them. Well, they should if they have any kind of experience.” You said.

Then your gaze landed on the slightly shorter hunter and you knew he just had to be Dean. He had they eyes of a killer and you could see it now. You saw why he was worthy to bare the mark. He had already seen and done so much and you were sure of it.

“You must be Dean.”

The mark on Dean’s arm burned to such an intensity, he knew that there was sort of connection between the two of them. He looked at his brother Sam who was trying to fake the fact that he didn’t know what this girl was talking about. If this was about the Mark of Cain, he knew that he and Sam needed to have a talk. A serious one at that.

“How exactly do you know who we’re are? And who are you supposed to be? And what did you do to those demons?” He asked.

He watched you arch a brow and listened to your exasperated sigh before you rolled up your sleeve and revealed your own mark. His eyes widened when he saw your arm. Then Dean looked up at you with amazement. Did Sam know about this? Was that why Sam was so selective of what information he gave out? Did Castiel know something about this?

“I know who you are because my father told me you were coming. As for those demons, their pathetic little king sent them. Well, one of them. I don’t feel like getting found by anyone, especially the supposed King of Hell, so I killed them.” He heard you confess so casually.

“Y-Your father?” Dean tempered with shock.

“So the rumors are true…” Sam spoke. Of course Sam would know about the rumors, naturally this got under Dean’s skin but now wouldn’t be the time for that particular argument.

“Yes yes, daughter of Cain, Mistress of Murder, whatever the Hell you want to call me. Now what do you two boys want?” You asked and crossed your arms over your chest.

“You need help with the whole Metatron thing, right? So what do you need so we can get this mess over with?”

Thank you!

Thanks for reading! Your support means a great deal and I really hope all of you are enjoying this little fanfiction! Hope you all are well!

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@johannelis2302nely @justtrying2getby-blog @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @alternativeprincess @doctorlexilouwhosblog

[captain039]

Serving her

Alpha!Cas x omega!reader

Warnings: AOB, light swearing, light gore, first time, smut, claiming, dominant cas, Cas has experience and is a fast learner, mates

When Cas first popped in you jumped out your skin while the boys seemed unfazed.

“Apologies” he said in a monotone voice and you just nodded staring at him confused as he spoke to Sam and Dean. You kept staring at him, feeling something stir inside you but you’re unsure what, you couldn’t smell him like you could Sam and Dean who were plainly alphas. You got a raised eyebrow from Sam who seemed to be trying to catch your attention but you were just baffled.

“What is he?” You blurted and they all looked to you.

“He is an angel” Sam said smirking slightly at you.

“Angel” you muttered nodding.

“Awesome” you said sarcastically.

“You don’t believe him?” The angel asked.

“Where’s your wings?” You asked arms crossed.

“You can’t see them” he stated.

“Halo?” You said mostly for laughs and he frowned.

“I don’t have a halo, no angels do actually” he said seriously.

“Oh” you mumbled.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Castiel” he answered and you nodded.

“So you weren’t nuts” you muttered looking to Dean.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” He asked frowning.

“Nothing” you said quickly busying yourself with packing again.

“Continue your man talk” you said and they gave you odd looks before continuing.

“You don’t smell” you blurted before you could think and the angel turned back to you while you froze and flushed.

“I’m sorry” you mumbled and Sam snickered.

“Jesus” Dean rolled his eyes.

“I do have a scent, I just hide it as it is overwhelming to humans” he explained and you nodded.

“Sorry” you repeated shoving your clothes in your bag.

“I have to ask why is there an omega with you? Is she Deans?” Castiel asked and you wished the earth would swallow you up.

“Is she mine?” Dean said wanting to laugh and you glared and you went to yell at the angel.

“She beat my ass for touching her towel” he explained laughing and interrupting.

“You were gonna use it!” You snapped.

“No shes not Deans and her name is Y/n” Sam said.

“I know” Castiel said.

“Of course you do” Dean mumbled.

“Why is she here?” The angel pressed.

“She saved our asses more than once” Dean said and you smiled slightly.

“So?” The angel said and you glared.

“Dick” you mumbled.

“So, we owe her our lives” Sam sighed crossing his arms.

“Ok” Castiel finished and you frowned at his bluntness and lack of emotions.

After that meeting he kept popping in or turning up suddenly scaring the hell out of all of you most of the time. He just popped up randomly in the car or on a job, it wasn’t healthy for your heart, you were too young for a heart attack. Over time though you kinda got used to it, not the popping up randomly, but him being there. You were by yourself this time searching the house for clues while Dean and Sam acted as Feds. You were scared to act as a fed and always blew it.

“Have you found anything?” You almost screamed and shot as you turned to Cas. You glared lowering your gun and huffing.

“A text, a phone call, a letter, anything! So I don’t die of a heart attack!” You yelled and he just stared normally, no emotion.

“No I haven’t found anything” you sighed.

“Could just be an angry alpha” you sighed.

“Angry alpha?” Cas said frowning.

“You know, big bad wolf, I’m possessive and insecure so I’ll yell at the lower rank for kicks” you mocked sticking your chest out and flexing your arms. Cas just frowned and you rolled your eyes ready to give up on the angel.

“You know, you’re mean” you froze and turned at the voice in the hallway. A man stood outside the door, tattoos down his arms and face.

“Djin” you muttered worried.

“I don’t like your tone either” his eyes darkened and his voice washed over you uncomfortable. Your hands shook and you cowered, gulping.

“Answer me when spoken too!” He roared and you collapsed. Your whole body shook and you covered against the cupboard. You covered your face as the Djin screamed and disappeared, Cas standing behind him now. You shook uncontrollably and cursed silently. Cas spoke to you but you couldn’t hear him as he walked forward.

A scent filled your nose though and you frowned thinking maybe the boys turned up. You frowned staring at Cas who knelt by you before nodding his head once. You stared at him warmth filling you as your shakes left. He smelt…. heavenly, ironic. You wondered if all angels smelt like this, like, home. His hand was on your shoulder and knee that you had by your chest. An alpha using his voice was bad enough, a Djin using it, well that was worse.

You heard footsteps and saw Dean and Sam outside the door.

“You weren’t answering-“ Dean stopped mid sentence.

“What happened?” Dean asked coming in with Sam behind him.

“Geez” Dean held his arm over his nose.

“I had no choice” Cas said as you processed. He smelt really good, you didn’t focus on Sam and Deans scent at all, just his.

“You stink dude” Dean complained.

“You alright?” Sam asked as you looked to him.

“A Djin used his alpha voice on her, she was shaken up, I have disposed of the creature” Cas said. Dean frowned and you felt small and useless. This has only happened a few times, but it was either of the boys who calmed you down after the hunt, blankets, a jacket maybe. You all headed to another motel and you rented your own room, ready to curl up in a nest on the bed. Sam was quick to leave you his jacket while Dean was talking to Bobby about something.

“Call if you need anything” Sam smiled softly and you nodded going in your room and locking the door. You sighed shrugging on Sam’s jacket and sighing at the comforting scent of family. You raised the cupboard of extra blankets and pillows and made the bed into a nest. You wrapped yourself in blankets and turned on the TV. you sank into the sheets trying to shake the feeling that the Djin would pop up and do something. You shivered and shook your head focusing on the TV instead.

You awoke to movement in your room and grabbed your gun, aiming at whoever it was.

“Cas?” You said tiredly and he turned around.

“You’re awake” he stated and you rolled your eyes placing your gun down.

“Why’re you in my room?” You asked sighing. You frowned though, the same scent from before coming from him, he smelt really good, your whole body relaxing and calling him almost.

“I brought you supplies” he said pointing to two bags on the counter.

“Food?” You asked and he nodded.

“Your heat is approaching also” he said and you froze, body going hot.

“What?” You muttered getting up and checking your phone. You’d taken your suppressants you shouldn’t be going into heat.

“That’s impossible!” You said as Cas finished unpacking and turned around. He stilled looking you up and down and you frowned. You looked down and flushed, you only had underwear and a T-shirt on along with Sam’s jacket. You froze when he growled and walked forward.

“Take that off” he said voice low and commanding, but not using his alpha tone. You frowned before you realised. You shrugged off Sam’s jacket and Cas glared at it as you chucked it on a seat.

“It’s a comfort thing from family” you mumbled feeling like you had to explain yourself.

“You won’t need it” Cas said simply going back to putting items in the fridge.

“Huh?” You said confused by his behaviour.

“Cas?” You added when he didn’t answer. He sighed stilling his movements.

“Cas, what’s going on you’re scaring me” you crossed your arms, fidgeting lightly on the spot.

“Can you not sense it?” He asked seriously and you frowned.

“Sense what?” You asked.

“I can smell you if that’s what you mean, I don’t-?” You stuttered confused. He walked forward into your personal space and stared. You felt little under his gaze and avoiding his eyes.

“Mate” he muttered and your body shuddered as you snapped your eyes to him.

Next chapter ->

[cavebaby2]

“I want to be soft,” Dean sighs out, “I’m just not conditioned for it.” He looks at his hands which are calloused and marred with little scars. The beds of his finger nails which are dry and cracked. He was never taught how to be soft. He never had the time to learn how to be soft before he was conditioned to he rough. He was given a shot-gun, the thing too big for his little arms, and practiced hitting his dad’s empty beercans. He didn’t yet have the muscles to keep the gun in place, and his right shoulder used to have bruises from the kickback. He learned how to hustle the pool tables in bars that he snuck into and learned how to cheat during poker. And sometimes he would get busted up for his troubles, but he would be able to go back to whatever janky motel his dad stuffed him and Sam in with money in his pockets and a false sense of pride in his stomach. And he would let people pay him in cash, never accepting a card or anything below 15 dollars, and he would follow them behind their big hauling trucks or in the restrooms of dive-bars to offer them something he didn’t like to think too much about. He killed things with his hands, had gotten blood in his mouth before that didn’t belong to him. Point is, Dean is not soft. He doesn’t know how to be soft.

“Then let me do it for you.” Castiel whispers into the air between them, the air they have began sharing, from where his head rests against Dean’s shoulder. His fingertips are soft as they glide against his warm skin, touching and worshipping scars that wrap around and accent his ribs. He breathes in Dean’s scent; leather and musk and a little floral hint of laundry detergent. Castiel’s hands are soft, inhumanly so, since he often heals what wounds he acquires. The pads of his fingers are against Dean’s warm skin, beneath his shirt, hands slowly reaching back. Fingertips span over his back, tracing his spine in a gentleness unknown to both of them. Castiel hasn’t ever known how to be soft, either, but as it turns out, he’s learned it. Since he dragged Dean out of hell, he has yearned for softness. He has taught himself how to be domestic, almost. He has killed things, killed other angels. He’s seen flashes of wasting grace that did not belong to him, but his hands aren’t calloused. His knuckles don’t carry scars, nor does his chest, or his arms, or his legs, or his back. Castiel has given himself this clean slate, and he’s desperate and determined to make this one last. To do it right. So he learned how to be soft for Dean, he knows it will take time for Dean to learn how to do it for himself, so he vows to do it for him. He can teach him. He can help Dean learn how to sleep in, he can soothe him and comb his fingers through his hair when he wakes up with balled fists and beads of cold sweat. He can sit with Dean in the kitchen as he grumbles about needing coffee, and he could help him master the apple-pie recipe he’s been working on. He may not be able to take out of Dean what has been imprinted, but he can help make it easier to stomach. He can help Dean learn to let himself be soft.