#coda 13x22

[bluesclves]

BTHB Square 1- Dying in their arms

My first square filled for the @badthingshappenbingo!

Characters: Dean, Lucifer, Jack (mentioned)

Ships: None

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, coda to 13x22 and 13x23

Words: 1,432

“And what about Lucifer?” Castiel asks.

Dean glances at his brother before answering. “… Sam handled it.” He doesn’t know exactly what happened after he went through the portal. All he knows is that Gabriel died by Michael's hand, and when Sam walked through, Lucifer didn’t follow after him.

Sam won’t talk about it. Dean suspects he feels a bit guilty about whatever happened, and he wouldn’t be the only one.

Truth is, In the 31 hours that Lucifer was ‘on the team’, he grew on Dean a bit. Maybe he did on Sam too, who knows. And maybe Dean is stupid to feel guilty and Lucifer really was just playing them the whole time.

But then again, maybe he wasn’t.

Dean can’t stop thinking about the things he and Lucifer discussed while working on the bus. He really should have taken his own advice to not speak to Lucifer because he’s been second-guessing his gut ever since.

It started when Dean was asking Lucifer to hand him tools while he fixed up the engine and Lucifer was asking him questions about how cars work. He’s apparently always been fascinated by them— and Dean was more than happy to oblige. He almost forgot who he was talking to after a while of discussing cars and how they operate (and eventually teaching Lucifer how to drive once Sam and Cass told him that’s the plan).

Lucifer was very receptive to the information and showed his engagement by asking follow up questions and making educated guesses about what would improve an engine or what certain parts are for.

It was actually kinda fun, all things considered.

That is, until Lucifer asked a question straight out of left field.

“You can still feel it, can’t you?”

Dean looked up from the engine, the fingers absently scratching his arm freezing. “What?”

Dean could swear Lucifer had honest-to-God sympathy in his eyes. Sympathy from the devil. Ha. “The mark. I just can’t help but notice you keep scratching your arm.”

Dean is just struck with silence, because Lucifer hit the nail on the head but how is he supposed to respond?

“Hey, it’s cool. I’m not gonna tell on you. I just wondered… it’s good to know I’m not the only one.”

“What?”

“Is that the only word you know now?” Lucifer teases him, reaching for the beer he’s barely touched.

Dean continues to stay silent, baffled and at a loss for what to say. Too many gears are turning at once. That’s right, Lucifer had the mark first. And for a lot longer than Dean had it. And if he can still feel it like Dean can…

“Don’t worry about it, just forget I said anything,” Lucifer mutters, drinking his beer and setting it aside again.

“No- wait,” Dean rushes to respond, struggling to find something intelligent to say. “Not the only one— you still feel it?”

“Well, yeah,” Lucifer responds slowly. “I mean, I only got rid of it the same time that you did, pal. I still itch at it too.” He proves it by pulling down the collar of his shirt, showing the reddened nail scratches on his collarbone. “But the worst of its effects are gone, so you won’t catch me complaining.”

That gives Dean pause as well. He’s smart enough to put two and two together but his gut keeps saying ‘no, there’s no way.’

Eventually, his head wins out. “So… let me get this straight. You had the mark even after you gave it to Cain?”

Lucifer nods, amusement playing in his eyes. “Duh. Did Cain lose it after he gave it to you?”

“Well, no…” Dean frowns to himself, logic telling him one thing which he really doesn’t want to consider as a possibility. “So, uh… your fall, the apocalypse, all that was under the mark’s influence?”

“Bingo,” Lucifer nods, something akin to hope in his expression. “And they say Sam’s the smart one.”

Dean pauses again. “So then you really are different now.”

That gives Lucifer pause, and Dean can tell the archangel is choosing his words very carefully. “… yes… and no. I mean… I’m sure you know, the effects of the mark don’t just… go away.” He waits for Dean’s nod of confirmation before he continues. “I’m not suddenly all better, back to my good old self. It took a long time to screw me up, it’s gonna take a long time to get better. But I want to— get better, that is.” He leans against the side of the bus, looking at nothing in particular as he talks.

“I thought beating Amara would make me better. But then when dad left again… it’s like there was no point in trying anymore. Everyone thinks I’m a monster anyways, so why bother trying to change anyone’s mind?” He catches sight of Jack walking around with Castiel further into camp and watches him walk, waving when Jack sees him as well. “But now I have a reason to try.”

The discussion didn’t go much further than that, but it really opened up Dean’s eyes. He started paying attention to how Lucifer acted, and tried to see him without the prejudice-tinted lenses he had before. And what he saw seemed for all the world like Lucifer was honestly trying to be better. He’s struggling, definitely. He really wants to impress his son— even more than he wants to help the rest of the team… but it does make it easier since Jack makes it clear that helping is more impressive than any story he can tell.

Maybe Jack isn’t naïve… maybe they’ve just been blinded by their prejudices.

It doesn’t matter anymore, though. Sam ‘handled it’. Dean will never find out if Lucifer really was trying or if he was just leading them on, because now he’s gone. Dead, probably. Michael killed Gabe, why would he spare Lucifer?

He can’t afford to worry about a what-if anyways. They’re home and safe, that’s all that matters now.

———

Dean can’t help but feel an ache in his chest as he fights Lucifer. He could see it— the second that Lucifer broke. It was in Lucifer’s eyes, mostly.

All it took was Jack rejecting him, calling him a monster. And Dean could see the way Lucifer crumpled inside and just… gave up. in that moment, Dean was 100% certain that up to that point, Lucifer was really trying to get better.

But it doesn’t matter because before Dean could get a word in… Lucifer retaliated. He took Jack’s grace and then he took Jack and Sam, and Dean has no choice but to give Michael his consent so he can go save them. Because as sure as he is that Lucifer was trying, he’s equally sure now that the Devil isn’t trying anymore.

And that applies to more than just trying to be good. Dean can tell Lucifer is a better fighter than he is. Lucifer is trained in forms of combat Dean couldn’t even imagine. Michael tells him as such in the back of his mind. But despite all that… it’s easy. Lucifer isn’t trying. He’s given up on more than just getting better.

When Dean lands the fatal blow, there’s a moment of resistance, as if Lucifer and Jack’s combined graces are working to keep him alive and nearly succeeding.

And in that moment of resistance, Lucifer meets Dean’s eyes and Dean can once again see just how broken he is. “I tried,” he mutters just loud enough for the two of them to hear. “I didn’t mean for it to end like this… but, thank you,” he says quickly, and then his grace gives up as well and the blade sinks deeper into his chest. And then they both fall, Dean holding Lucifer with the blade still lodged up to the hilt in his chest.

It seems the right thing to do, to hold Lucifer as he dies. Considering that no one else has offered Lucifer that luxury in his life, it seems only fair that Dean holds the angel through his death.

It’s violent, and bright, and nearly sears Dean’s retinas, but he makes himself watch.

That could have been him. If he didn’t have anyone to keep him sane, that would have been him. That still can be him, if he loses sight of what’s important to him.

When Lucifer is dead, Dean let’s his body fall out of his arms, laying the empty vessel on the ground over the imprints of his wings.

And then he stands, turning to look at what’s important to him.

[youarentreadingthis]

A 13x22 coda. Sam talks to Jack about Lucifer.

The small celebration party is over, and Sam Winchester wanders around aimlessly.

He doesn't have much to do, everyone is mostly asleep except for a couple people still sitting in the library. They’re drunk, drunk on liquor and happiness.

Perhaps Sam is, too. The Devil is finally gone.

Sam walks around the hallways, brain on autopilot, until he arrives, surprisingly, in front of Jack’s room.

The door is open by a crack, and from what he can see, Jack is sitting on his bed, reading. His expression doesn't look interested, though, instead, angry, furious, upset, sad, all those feelings that make Sam’s heart hurt, because there is no doubt, no doubt at all that it is his fault.

No matter how much he hates Lucifer, he never wanted to hurt Jack.

Sam knocks on the door. “Hey, Jack, can I come in?”

He waits.

There is silence for a minute or so, and Sam decides, just leave Jack alone, he probably doesn't want company right now, least of all his company, and he turns away, ready to go to his own room. Then he hears Jack’s voice.

“Sure, Sam.” His voice sounds hard, bitter. Sam swallows, memories flashing up inside his mind of years far gone.

Not a good time, not a good time, not a good time.

Sam walks in slowly, wary. Sits down at the small desk, watching Jack.

“You doing alright? I know it's been tough the past few days…”

He sounds awkward, intrusive, but he cares, he wants to make sure Jack is doing alright.

Jack sighs, annoyed, and sets down the book.

And oh God, Sam knows those signs like the back of his hand, he knows what they mean, and he wants to leave, now, he wants to run away, run far away.

But Sam keeps himself still because this is Jack, not Lucifer. Not the Devil, not Satan, not the Morningstar who burns cold, whose true image is burned into Sam’s eyes.

Jack glares at Sam, accusing. “Why did you leave my father behind?”

Sam can hear the hate dripping from Jack’s words, he can hear the malice, and he thinks he’s shaking, oh God let him go, please let him escape the cage-

Sam closes his eyes and lets out a breath. His thumb shifts towards his palm, he can't help it.

“Jack...you don’t...you don't know how bad Lucifer really is.”

But Sam does, and he doesn't want to, he remembers hooks in his skin, knives in his flesh, he remembers metal stakes hammered into his palms, his feet, he remembers a rusted collar, and oh God, he doesn't want to call it that, but that’s what it is, looped around his neck, and worst of all, he remembers gentle fingers running through his hair and quiet murmured words he flinches away from-

Jack’s voice breaks through his thoughts, filled with fury.

“Oh, yeah, and you do? You know nothing about him except the stories you've heard, and he’s been in a cage that whole time!”

But the cage is the worst part, doesn't Jack understand?

Sam can feel the crackling power in the air coming from Jack, and all he can hear is the anger, the fury, the rage, and he’s pretty sure he’s trembling, backing away in his chair, it's so similar to the Devil, it's just enormous power, that's it, and he can’t look the nephil in the eye, can't look the Devil in the eye, not allowed to, never allowed to, never important enough, just a human, just an abomination, a burden, a pest, a thing-

“Sam? Are you okay?” Jack’s voice holds fading anger, slowly filling with concern.

Sam doesn't look up, remember the rules, Sam Winchester is not worthy, never worthy to look an archangel in the eyes, much less the son of an archangel, and he just nods jerkily.

“Yeah, I'm going to my room.” He swallows. “You were right, I'm sorry, I shouldn't assume anything just based on stories. Good night, Jack.”

Sam walks down the hallway to his room and steps inside, closing the door.

His movements as he gets into bed are robotic, and when he finally shuts his eyes, he's the last one in the bunker to do so.

And as night falls upon Sam Winchester, so do his nightmares.

It's not one of the worse days. It's just pain, mostly.

Or is it even a day? He's stopped trying to keep track. Time isn't relevant in the cage.

His body is gone, he's just a soul, all the better for the Devil to torture.

The Devil sits next to him, crouches next to Sam who is lying on the ground, holding more knives with more arms than any human.

Then again, the Devil is not human.

His vessel has pretty much burned away, obviously. No use for it here.

Sam can feel the blades digging into his flesh. But it's just the beginning.

Chains form and loop around him, inscribed with Enochian letters he had once not been able to read, curling around his limbs and places he doesn't want to talk about.

Any movement and they get tighter.

The chains grow thorns and the thorns are covered with poison, with acid, and he’s screaming in pain all while the Devil is sharpening knives like he’s playing a game and humming a tune with no melody.

It sounds broken, broken like his bones, broken like his mind, broken like his soul.

Someone touches his shoulder and his eyes flash open.

It’s bright. It’s bright and he wants to shut his eyes but if he shuts his eyes he’s going to be back in the darkness, the darkness of the cage.

He sees a face, he doesn’t know who it is, but Lucifer’s obviously created another reality to torture him, and he can’t suffer through it again.

The arm on his shoulder shifts and he hears a faint, “Sam?”

He flings himself against the wall in terror, backing up as much as he can, backing away from this hallucination, whatever it is.

It’s Jack.

He’s not in the cage.

Sam frowns, confused, terrified, and oh thank god he’s not in the cage, wait, don’t thank god, before he coughs-whispers out,

“Jack? What-” Sam looks around the room. “What are you doing here?”

Jack looks down in shame, drops his arm from Sam’s shoulder, wait, Jack, what’s wrong, are you okay, and Sam sits up, alert.

Jack glances to the side, pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry that I said you didn’t know Lucifer.”

Sam flinches at the name, he can’t help it. But the words that Jack says confuse him.

“What, Jack, what do you mean-”

“I saw what you dreaming about.”

There’s silence. Sam freezes, blood draining from his face, oh god Jack saw everything, he saw everything-

“Jack, you shouldn’t- you shouldn’t have had to seen that, I’m sorry-”

He can see Jack hunch over at his words, hunch over like his wings are curling around him.

“No, Sam, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed…”

Jack stops talking, instead chooses to close his eyes and turn away, no, stop, Jack wasn’t told anything, it’s not his fault, and something breaks in Sam.

Sam reaches his hand towards Jack, concerned, worried, so regretful.

“You had a right to be angry,” Sam whispers. “You didn’t know.”

He shouldn’t have had to know it like that, Sam should’ve told him, no one should have to see that.

“And I’m sorry for hurting you-”

Jack shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be sorry. Not for leaving Lucifer behind. Even if it hurt me.”

Sam swallows, guilty, but still, Sam’s so thankful he left the Devil in the other world.

A small smile slowly begins to form on Jack’s face. He takes a deep breath.

“Good night, Dad.”

And Jack gets up, he doesn’t fly away, because he knows the sound of his wings will frighten Sam, and walks out of the room.

And Sam Winchester is left sitting on his bed, biting his lip in an effort not to cry.

He fails.

[julia-sets]

Fic: Tidying Up [13x22 coda]

Summary: After the party Jack confronts Sam. Then Dean confronts him.

[Read on AO3]

- - -                                                           

Sam is tired down to his bones, but he knows himself well enough to realize that sleep won’t be that easy. He’s procrastinating by cleaning up the map room, collecting empty bottles into a cardboard box. Cleaning is as good an excuse as any.

The refugees have been more or less settled. The Bunker was always set up for more than just the two of them, but it wasn’t exactly meant to house an army. Fortunately Bobby and Charlie and the other leaders among the group settled any disputes about who gets the lumpy old mattresses and who gets the floor. They were all pretty agreeable. Even sleeping on cold concrete is a step up from their previous lodging.

Sam tried to give up his room, but they waved him off. Dean kept his room with its decorative arsenal out of the hands of curious strangers. Rowena headed out hours ago to find somewhere more accommodating and Mary is crashing with Charlie and some of the other women.

Jack has his own room. He’d disappeared before the party wound down. Sam wants to talk to him, but he’s not sure what he can say. He figures a night to cool off will help.

“Why did you do it?”

Sam startles. Clearly Jack wasn't down with the 'cooling off' plan. He’s not sure if he was just that lost in thoughts or if Jack teleported in, but the kid is standing at the top of the steps to the library. Sam’s instantly reminded of the moments after the ghoul hunt, when Jack disappeared. He sets the box he’s holding down, empty bottles clinking softly.

Sam knows that Jack’s upset. What’s more, he gets why. What he doesn’t know is how to help. Because he can’t feel any regret for what he did. He left Lucifer behind to likely be tortured and killed by Michael. Sam understands that Jack feels that acutely, because Michael hurt him.

Sam has felt guilty for so many things in his life, but he still can’t regret this. He’d do it again. So he doesn’t know how to bridge this gap between them.

Jack clearly isn’t happy with Sam’s lack of response. “Why did you leave my father behind?”

Sam chooses his words carefully. “Allowing him to come back was too dangerous.”

“He was helping us!” Jack exclaims. He surges forward and a frisson of terror skates down Sam’s spine. He holds himself still through sheer force of will. “You left him with Michael!”

“I know,” Sam acknowledges.

“You don’t know.” Jack insists. “Michael tortured me.”

Here is his opening. And Lucifer tortured me. Jack needs to know. Needs to understand who his father is.

What comes out instead: “Lucifer isn’t who you think.”

“He was locked up!” Jack is every inch the angry teen. There is a part of Sam who understands, who was angry like this once. He remembers the fights with his dad, remembers hating when his dad didn’t listen. But that part is so distant now, with the expanse of the Cage standing in between. Jack’s still going. “All those things people say, they’re lies. He didn’t do all of those things. He was locked up. God locked him up.”

“Do you know how he got out?” Sam asks.

The change of direction seems to trip Jack up and he loses a bit of steam. “No.”

“I let him out,” Sam admits, quietly. He can’t look up at Jack for this, so he doesn’t know how Jack takes it, but Sam assumes the silence is a good sign. “It was almost ten years ago. And the things he did… thousands died. Earthquakes. Plagues. War. Dean and I, we lost friends, people we’d known for a long time. People we cared for. Everything that you saw Michael do in that world? Lucifer tried to do that here.”

He works up the nerve to look up and finds a contemplative look on Jack’s face. “What stopped him?”

“I did.”

“How?”

“The difference between our world and theirs is that Dean and I were never born there,” Sam explains. “We were supposed to be their vessels. Lucifer and Michael, me and Dean.”

“But you didn’t do it.”

“Actually, I did,” Sam says, and some part of him remembers the rush of power, like standing in the epicenter of a nuclear explosion. He has to distance himself from that, from the memories crowding up against his head. “We found a way to open Lucifer’s cage back up. The only way to trap him was for me to say yes and jump in. So that’s what I did.” He’s on autopilot now, voice almost monotone. He just has to get through this. Jack has to know. But Sam has spent so much time trying to ignore that year and everything that came after that it’s hard to force himself back there.

Jack, for his part, looks shocked. “You went to hell?”

“Yes,” Sam says in clipped tones. He can do this. “I dragged our version of Michael in, as well.” He thinks that might help Jack, knowing that there isn’t another Michael running free. “He’s still there.” Sam shuts his eyes for a moment, takes a deep breath. “I wanted you to know. If given the chance, Lucifer would do everything that that Michael did. He’d do worse.”

“Could he have… maybe he changed,” Jack suggests, though he doesn’t sound as certain as he had just minutes earlier.

“People can change,” Sam admits. “But he hasn’t. He only helped us because it helped him. I’m sorry.”

Sam picks up the box of empty bottles and heads towards the kitchen.

- - -

Jack slumps into the chair at the map table. What Sam told him is a lot to take in. Everyone said Lucifer was bad, but they never really said why. They all acted like it was so obvious, but the things his father told him made sense. Humans weren’t perfect, Jack had seen that. And Lucifer had been locked up for a very long time. Jack never considered how he got out.

Sam’s footsteps have only just faded away when another set approach from the opposite direction. Jack looks up to find Dean walking through one of the doorways.

“You get it now?” Dean asks. He doesn’t sound angry, at least not any more than he usually does. He’s got a tumbler of brown liquor in his hands and an air of practiced calm.

“I think so,” Jack says. He isn’t afraid of Dean anymore, but he can’t help but feel wary.

“Because Sam left out a lot,” Dean continues as if Jack hadn’t answered.

“He didn’t say how he got out,” Jack admits.

“It’s a long story, even a longer one for Sam. Time passes differently down there. Mom told me that Michael had you for days. Maybe weeks? Sam was down there for over a year, topside. Hell-time it was… decades. Centuries, maybe. And that whole time Lucifer was pissed. Pissed and with no one else to take it out on but the human who ruined his plans. You get it?”

Jack’s been alive for barely over a year. Those weeks in Michael’s hands had been a significant chunk of his life. Now he tries to imagine years. Sam’s in his thirties. He’s spent more time in hell than on Earth. It’s too big to even begin to contemplate.

“Lucifer hurt him,” Jack says, because it’s obvious now. He’s seen the way Sam reacts to even the mention of his father. But it wasn’t as if anybody else liked the devil. Sam had only seemed slightly out of the norm.

“When Sam got back, the memories of what Lucifer did to him, they almost broke him.” Dean takes a sip of his drink. “If he was anyone else, they would have killed him. But Sammy’s always been tough.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?” Jack asks, a touch of anger flaring up. He feels stupid. Everyone knew this and no one told him. Why didn’t they tell him? Jack had wanted to get to know his father, but Sam was the first person who cared about him. Lucifer was his father by dint of biology. Castiel was the father that his mother chose for him. They had been assigned the label ‘father’ since before Jack was born.

But Sam was the father Jack chose.

“Sam doesn’t talk about it,” Dean says, like the words hurt him. “It’s not your fault, kid. This is gruesome stuff. Sam just wanted to protect you.”

Jack wants to rage at that. He’s powerful. He doesn’t need their protection.

Except he does. Because with all his power, he hadn’t seen through Lucifer’s lies and half-truths.

“Is he mad?” Jack asks. “At me?”

“Sam? No way,” Dean admits. It’s good news, to Jack, but it makes Dean look sad. Like maybe he wishes Sam was angry.

“Are you?”

Dean stares at him for a long moment, long enough for Jack to start to feel nervous. But eventually he shakes his head. “No, kid. You didn’t know any better. But you do now, right?”

Jack nods.

Dean gives him a slap on the shoulder. “Good. Now get to bed. We’ve got work to do.”

[desperately-seeking-words]

Missing scene for 13x22

Dean cracks the door open just barely to get a feel for what’s outside, but is greeted only with silence.  He glances back at Sam and holds up one hand, signaling for them to wait while he scouts the area.  Sam nods slowly as he keeps one arm wrapped firmly around Charlie’s shoulders while Ketch rests momentarily in the seat she vacated.

Dean steps outside holding his gun out front, just in case.  He sees multiple bodies scattered around, but nothing moving.  He approaches a car that he intends to use as cover, and carefully steps over the body lying next to it.  When he glances down as he lifts his second foot to follow the first, he freezes.

Cas.

It all comes back to him in flashes. Cas being stabbed in the back.  Falling to his knees at Cas’s side. Wrapping Cas in a sheet and burning Cas on a pyre. Cas. Cas. Cas.

Dean feels the air leave his lungs and he reaches a hand out to brace himself against the car.  He breaths in shallow gasps and feels a pain in his chest that he can’t explain.  All he can see is Cas’s face, lying beneath him, dead and motionless.

He squeezes his eyes shut to block it out, but even behind his eyelids, Cas is all that he sees.

A firm hand grips his shoulder hard, causing Dean to startle, but not enough to fight back against whatever it is that’s grabbed him.  He opens his eyes and whirls around, only to be brought face-to-face with Cas: very much alive.

Dean stares at him in wonder.

“Dean, are you alright? What’s wrong?” Cas asks, his voice thick with concern.

Dean glances between the Cas standing in front of him and the Cas lying on the ground, trying to connect the dots.

At least Cas seems to understand once he sees where Dean’s gaze is.  “Ah.” His expression becomes softer.  “He was trying to escape,” he explains, “and I stopped him. I didn’t realize at first who he was.”

Dean nods dumbly.  He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, finally getting himself under control again.  “So, not so much Cas the friendly angel, huh?”

“Not exactly,” Cas remarks with a frown. 

“That must’ve been hard, though,” Dean says, looking away from both of them now.  “To kill your other self like that.”

“No,” Cas disagrees right away, “It was actually...rather cathartic.”

Dean turns on him with an accusing stare.  “You really hate yourself that much?”

Cas gives him a small smile.  “Not who I am now. Who I used to be. Who I might’ve been, had I not met you.”

Dean shies away from Cas’s intensity.  “Man, can we not have a moment like this while standing over your corpse? It’s weird...”

Cas looks down at his other self one last time.  “I’m sorry if seeing this troubled you.”

Dean sighs.  “Yeah, well, I don’t like seeing you dead. In any universe. Even if he is a dick.”

“He is just a dick without you and Sam.”

Dean groans and steps away.  “Did you really just say that?”

“Why ask something you know the answer to?” Cas asks as he catches up to walk beside Dean, teasing now.

“Yeah whatever,” Dean laughs softly as they head back to the Gas 'n' Sip. slinging an arm around Cas’s shoulders.

[mattzerella-sticks]

I Feel Safe With You (13x22 “Exodus” Dean/Cas Coda) (Ao3)

With nearly everyone back at the Bunker, it might be hard to find some alone time. However, Dean and Cas manage to find just that, and talk about a few things that need to be discussed. Will they say what needs to be said? Or do some things even need to be said? Sometimes the strongest things are those that are left unspoken.

           “I figured you might be here.”

           Dean cranes his head over the back of the chair, smiling at Cas from where he stands in the doorway. The television is the only source of light, highlighting his profile. Dean beckons Cas further in, the angel closing the door behind him. He heads towards the only other seat in Dean’s Cave, perching on the edge of it. Luckily, Dean had already muted the show he was watching, preferring the images to flash on-screen – his mind whirling with too many thoughts to really follow any storyline.

           “How’s everybody settling in?” Dean asks.

           “Fine,” Cas says, “We’ve filled two entire wings of the Bunker… could have used your help with all the sheets and everything.”

           “It was getting to be too much,” Dean admitted, turning away, “All these people… I’m gonna miss being able to just walk around in my robe.”

           “They won’t be here for long,” Cas tells him, “I’m sure there will be a few who may try and start a new life – here, where Michael exists only in The Cage.”

           “Wouldn’t blame ‘em if they did,” Dean chuckles, “Not like we haven’t faced down greater threats with less people…”

           Dean fiddles, playing with the chair’s arms, hoping that by scraping the leather with blunt nails he could dig up more to the conversation than the thoughts rumbling throughout his mind. Cas sits, waiting, watching Dean’s fidgeting. His body, unlike Dean’s, is closed in: knees pressed together, back slumped with his elbows resting on his thighs. Coiled tight, ready to spring forward if given the push.

           “And how’re the rest of ‘em?” Dean asks.

           “Sam decided to head to his room, after I promised to check up on you,” Cas starts, “And Mary… her and Bobby were chatting in the kitchen last I saw. When I asked about his lodgings she assured me that I needn’t worry.” Dean snaps his attention back to his angel, a small upward tic of his brow.

           “Did she?” he leans forward, “What did… what did she say?”

           “He can take my room,” Castiel quotes, squinting as he remembers, “I’ll even show him how to use the mattress.”

           Dean groans, face falling into his hands. “I had a feeling,” he mumbles from between his fingers, “That there was more than just soldier loyalty holding her there.”

           “I don’t quite get what you mean?”

           “Please Cas, think,” Dean turns to him, “So I don’t have to explain it to you.” He sees the gears spinning behind the angel’s eyes and as they light up with understanding.

           “Oh,” he says, “They’re engaging in sex –“

           “Yes!” Dean shouts over him, wringing his hands, “Yes they’re doing – that. Now let’s refrain from ever speaking about well… that, ever again. Okay?” Cas’s nod lessens the embarrassment fluttering within his stomach by a fraction.

           “It’s not a bad thing, Dean,” he adds, “That place was dangerous… scary… it’s nice to see that your mother was able to find some normalcy while she was there…”

           “Well… when you put it that way…”

           “It’s funny… the thing about danger,” Cas continues, gaze distant and far away, “When we’re in it, we have to re-prioritize… well, everything. Have to take control of the situation, make tough calls, and protect what matters. Being in this position for long periods of time… it can be taxing. Living like that without any breaks would force the strongest of people to crumble. We all need to feel safe from time to time.”

           Dean smiles, “Yeah… I get what you mean.” He does, darting his eyes across the room at the cocoon he built for himself and his family. Every few seconds they fall back to Cas, but they never linger. Admitting to certain safeties can unlock even more dangers, in Dean’s world.

           “I’m glad we’re out of there,” Dean says, “I don’t know how Ma did it… how any of ‘em… goes to show that even if you don’t think so – your grass is greener to someone.”

           “It was taxing, all that we went through… all that we brought with us… what we left behind…” Cas’s shoulders hunch even further up to his neck, hands given way to human temptations such as twiddling and twitching.

           “I’m… sorry, we couldn’t get Gabe out of there,” Dean tells him, “I know how much Heaven needed him and… and just getting him back –“

           “It hurts,” Cas admits, staring at his lap, brows drawn in confusion, “Finally Gabriel chose to stay and fight and… I wish that he had run away. Saved himself from…” He looks up, teary-eyed, “We had just gotten him back. He barely had any time between his imprisonment and his death. That world it just… it takes from you.”

           “Yeah… no argument here,” Dean mutters darkly, “Almost took Sam… Jack and Ma were over there for too long…” He sighs, “In a way we also lost you – or… other you. Though I wasn’t as sad to see that bastard go.”

           “It was strange, I’ll admit,” Cas huffs, smiling weakly, “I remember a time where killing myself would have been a welcome thought. But even smiting this… twisted version of me, although necessary, was depressing.”

           “Don’t joke about that, Cas,” Dean says, reaching across the divide to place a hand over his angel’s, “Watching that was tough for me, too. I mean… it was still you. Just a you without humanity… without –“

           “Without meeting you.”

           Dean pauses, cheeks heating under the searching stare. Cas locks eyes with him, like clear blue waves of a lake rocking forward to meet the grass dappled hills of its shore. Fingers tap against fingers, until Cas turns his palm over and slides them together.

           “Cas?”

           “You and Sam, I hope that the Apocalypse world was just an anomaly, and that you two exist on every other plane of existence,” Cas powers forward, squeezing tight, “Winchesters inspire hope… with all of you the world remains safe. With… with you… I feel safe.”

           “Cas…” Dean repeats, reverent, “I… You make me feel safe, too. Like, I don’t know…” He rips his gaze away, scratching at his neck with his free hand, “You look at me, sometimes, and I just feel like the whole world’s a bit brighter. S’why I call you sunshine…”

           “Dean…”

           “Yeah?”

           “What,” he swallows, nervously, shattering any illusion of angelic composure, “What are we?”

           “We’re…” the word hangs on his tongue, waiting for its partner before tumbling into reality. Except every descriptor Dean’s mind comes up with gets rejected, deemed not good enough. ‘Best Friends’ didn’t carry enough of the intent Dean wanted to show. ‘Brothers’ doesn’t feel right – not that it ever did. ‘Family’ was too vague, and just a cheap cop out.

           ‘What are we?’

           He bides his time scanning his angel’s face. Roving over the sharp cheekbones blanketed by eternal stubble. Watches as a pink tongue peeks out to wet chapped – ‘but probably soft’ – lips. Eyes that remind Dean of every motel with a pool they stayed in while growing up. He and Sammy would sneak in, at night, and swim to their heart’s content. Sometimes, not even leaving until the sun was rising over the buildings and their skin hurt from pruning. Pool time was an escape – freedom from expectations and a bleak tomorrow. Feelings he thought would only exist under highly chlorinated water but can be found easily in the warmth of the angel that’s always close but never enough.

           “We’re… we’re us,” Dean says, smiling, “The good and the bad… all of it. There’s no hiding… no putting up fronts… just two guys with,” he stumbles, “with… feelings.”

           “Feelings?” Cas parrots, laughing slightly, “Yes… that is a good word for it. Although,” he rubs a thumb across Dean’s hand, “I might think of better words for it…” He looks up at him through his lashes, tanned skin flushed slightly. Dean roughly swallows around the heart-shaped lump in his throat.

           “Really?” he asks, “What – uh… what words would you use?”

           “Well, one word comes to mind, really,” Cas starts, fisting at his trench coat, “And I… I think you feel the same way.”

           “You’ll never know if you don’t say it, Cas,” Dean urges him on, scooting further and further towards the edge of his seat, ready to jump and fall – trusting Cas will be waiting there to catch him.

           “Dean, I… I lo –“

           “Father? Dean?”

           The moment shatters, lights flickering on overhead and drawing Dean and Cas’s eyes away from each other to the now open door where Jack stands. He shifts on his feet, glancing around at the Cave, taking it all in for the first time.

           “Jack?” Cas asks, voice rough, “Is every thing okay?”

           “I… I don’t know,” Jack steps further into the room, “It’s like… my mind knows I’m back home… but my body still feels tense like – like at any moment Michael will find us.”

           Dean frowns, understanding exactly what Jack is talking about. “C’mere,” he tells the kid, “You’re just…” he waits until Jack is in front of them, “you were over there for a long time – in a war zone. Even with all the power you have, you’re still just a boy. And no boy should ever grow up as a soldier.” Cas squeezes Dean’s hand once more. “It’ll take time, but it’s okay for you to feel this way.”

           “But I don’t want to,” Jack whimpers, “Is there… anything I can do?”

           “Angel grace can do many things,” Cas tells him, reaching out with his other hand for Jack’s, “But this is something we can’t heal.”

           “You’re not alone, though, Jack,” Dean continues, “We’re here, and we’ll always be here when you need us.”

           “I… I need you…” Jack admits, lowly, “I just… I want to be normal – for a little bit.”

           “Well, why don’t we watch a movie?” Dean asks, turning to Cas, “Can’t think of anything more normal than that? What do you say?”

           “I’m sure we can squeeze one in,” Cas nods, smirking at Jack, “But only one. I believe it’s still a school night, and somebody has to be up bright and early.”

           Dean chuckles, playing along with Cas’s scenario, “That’s true. Jack, did you finish your homework?”

           “I… my what?”

           “I don’t think he has,” Dean gasps, “Oh, how can we be such thoughtless parents?”

           “You tell me, Dean,” Cas says, “You’re the one whose supposed to keep tabs on these things.”

           “Well I – wait, what?”

           “I mean, since you’re here keeping house –“

           “Why would I be the stay-at-home parent, Cas?”

           “You’re much more organized than me, and you love to cook –“

           “And you don’t think I deserve a career? Just what ‘job’ do you even have?”

           “I’m a… cop?”

           “Oh macho, macho man, aren’t ya?”

           “Well –“ Cas trails off, both he and Dean glancing towards Jack, dissolved into a fit of giggles. The pair shares a celebratory smile before setting up the movie. Dean works the remote and turns Netflix on, scrolling until he finds something with enough fluff and sugar that would kill an elephant. Jack takes a seat on the floor between the two chairs, Cas shifting from his seat to join him. Dean looks at the two angels, their bright eyes blinking up at him. He puts up a fight, but joins the two on the ground in the end.

           “I’m too old for this,” Dean groans, over-acting, “My back’s gonna be so sore… you might have to leave me here.”

           “Well I might not need a nickel,” Cas starts, creeping a hand behind Jack to rest on Dean’s lower back, “But I do have ‘magic fingers’. Dean relaxes into the touch, letting Cas’s grace trickle into him and ease the aches that have built up from their trek across universes. Dean swings his arm over the two of them, drawing them in closer, before hitting play.

           “Thank you,” Jack whispers under the title sequence, “Really.”

           “Everyone deserves to feel safe, Jack,” Cas tells him, looking at Dean, “Especially when they really are.”

           “I do feel safe with you,” he smiles, “Both of you. With Sam and Mary… I’m glad we’re all together again.”

           “The whole happy family,” Dean says.

           They let the movie take over, enjoying the film alongside one another. Jack snuggles deeper, sandwiching himself between the two men and drawing them closer. Every now and then, the hunter and his angel would peak over, losing interest with the cartoon and instead focusing their attention on the other.

           There was no rush. Both men finally felt a calm, like breaking the tape in a race, and were now running a celebratory lap. They didn’t feel the need to talk. Not when the movie finished up and Jack asked for another. Not when the boy fell asleep, slightly drooling on Dean’s shoulder, the day catching up to him. And especially not come morning, when all came to in a tight bundle.

           Because no word could capture the depth of emotion they were feeling.

           ‘Well, maybe one,’ Dean admits to himself, peering at Cas over the rim of his coffee mug, while Jack tells Sam and Mary and Bobby about their little marathon.

           ‘Love.’

[lies-unfurl]

13.22 coda: circles

Dean/Cas, PG, fluff, talking, hurt/comfort, bedsharing

Dean kinda maybe really fucking wants to take a shower, to scrub the sweat and grime from his skin and replace the weird smoky scent that permeated the other universe with the sandalwood of the fancy scrub Cas bought him, but there are two dozen people who haven’t had running water in god-knows-how-long, and he’s selfless enough to admit they have priority.

So instead of letting hot water steam away his aging body’s complaints, he makes some spare beds, points them out to Mom, who seems to be in charge of orientating the strangers to the new world, and then, when people are dispersing, stands up and manages to catch Cas’s eye, though all of his attention seems to be focused on whatever conversation he’s having with Jack. Dean jerks his chin in the general vicinity of their room and then starts down the hall. Cas will come when he’s ready.

He’s just stepping out of his pants, shirt already on the floor, when the door opens and Cas comes in, going straight to sit on the bed and take off his shoes. They stay like that for a minute, undressing in silence.

It all kind of hits him when he sits down on the bed in just his sweats, his shoulders so incredibly sore that he doesn’t know if they could bear the weight of fabric. “Holy shit.”

Cas looks at him and nods. “Indeed.”

“Jesus. I don’t even know what to say.” He rubs his eyes, tired in an aching, bone-deep way, but also too awake and overcome with the past two days to want to lie down and wait for the nightmares he knows will greet him.

Cas, who’s slipped into an old Metallica t-shirt and the sleep pants that hug his ass just right, leans over and begins rubbing his back. “You don’t have to say anything.”

He means to reply to that with some stupid comment, maybe about how he can’t ever be quiet with Cas’s hands on him, but what comes out instead is, “Gabe’s dead.”

Cas stills for just a fraction of a second. “I... expected as much.”

Dean reaches up to lay his hand on Cas’s, which is almost in the same spot he once marked Dean. “I’m sorry. He died a hero. Not that it means anything.”

“I... I barely got him back. It won’t be much different before.” He gently pushes Dean’s hand off of his and goes back to kneading deep circles into Dean’s deltoids.

Cas is wrong, of course. You’ve learned to live with the dull ache of grief, and then all of a sudden they’re there and you’ve got hope, you’ve got happiness -- when it all goes away, it’s worse than if they’d just stayed dead. He would know, with how low he sunk after Mary had left him to hunt.

But there’s not much he can think of saying that would mean anything to Cas. Especially because of how aware Dean is of the unfairness at all -- they both lost their brothers, but only Dean got his back. 

So he sits in silence as Cas rubs away pains he wasn’t even conscious of, and even though Dean knows he has the calloused hands of a warrior, somehow they feel soft against his skin, and warm enough to melt away the knots in his muscles. His own hands itch to try to give something back to Cas, but on nights like these he knows that Cas will push them away, kind but firm, reminding him that he doesn’t feel those minor pains like Dean does (and Dean thinks he’s lying, but he hasn’t yet figured how to call him out or prove him wrong so, selfishly, he doesn’t fight the admonitions and takes all that Cas gives him while offering nothing in return).

It’s Cas who breaks the silence:

“I killed myself.”

“Huh? What?” He twists back to look at Cas so quickly that a sharp pain flares up his neck, and of course Cas sees his wince, because he frowns, puts his hands on Dean’s cheeks, and gently turns his head so that he’s facing forward once again.

“My alternate self. I wasn’t sure if you saw him when we were storming the compound.”

He hadn’t. “Shit. Uh. You doing okay?”

He thinks Cas nods, but he isn’t sure. “He... wasn’t me. I saw inside him, saw some of his story as I killed him. Naomi made him her protégée. And of course she’d demonstrated on him plenty. He’d done awful things, but...”

“He was still you.” Dean kind of hates himself for the thought, but he’s glad it was Cas who did it, not him. He doesn’t know if he could’ve stabbed something wearing Cas’s face, no matter how evil it was.

“In a way.” His thumbs dig in on opposite sides of Dean’s spine, and he lets out a sound that could maybe be called a whimper, because it just feels so fucking good, like Cas is smoothing out pains he’d stopped even noticing.

“He had a stupid accent,” Cas adds. “I don’t think his Jimmy ever left eastern Europe. Or he was just obnoxious.”

“Jimmy made a good call. Was never really into those accents.”

Cas leans in and kisses the back of his neck, hands never stilling. Dean closes his eyes. Cas holds in his affection sometimes, just like Dean does, both of them too afraid to show that vulnerability in front of someone they’ve already lost so often, but the past few days saw them brushing shoulders with the fragility of life and right now there just isn’t time to think too deeply about how much it’ll hurt if -- when -- this ends.

Cas keeps rubbing those circles until Dean’s thoughts are covered in a sluggish fog, until even the images imprinted on his eyelids -- the blood spraying from Sam’s neck, decaying ruins in the light of that pale sun, how Gabe’s wings had stretched behind him, full and whole and so different from the mangled burns Cas’s had left almost a year ago, but Cas came back and he doesn’t feel like Gabe will get that lucky -- even those begin to blur. His chin dips down towards his chest.

“Come on,” Cas murmurs. He makes Dean stand as he pulls back the covers. They climb in together and lie down, Cas’s chest to his back. One arm circles over him while the other comes to rest at his nape, absentmindedly playing with the short hairs there.

His eyes are heavy when he feels Cas press a soft kiss on the top of his head. “You saved so many people today,” he whispers. “Your family, and all the others. Sleep. I would cross universes for you; I’ll keep you safe while you rest.”

Dean wishes he had the words to respond to that, but he’s out before they come.

[whichstiel]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Episode: s13e22 Exodus, spn 13x22, episode coda, Bunker, First Kiss Series: Part 20 of Season 13 Codas Summary:

Dean and Cas have feelings for each other. There may be some kissing.

The bunker is cold at the best of times. Whatever magical machinery keeps the air flowing barely manages to heat it much above the ambient temperature of the surrounding ground. Dean has become accustomed to it. He understands the need for layers, for long pants and soft shirts even under the comfort of his own bedspread. So it’s the contrast of temperatures that wakes him first. His hip all the way down to one ankle is cold and slightly uncomfortable from too much time exposed. His shoulder, however. His chest, his other hip, the leg he has twined under another, his cheek pillowed on a broad chest. Those parts of him feel as warm as though he lay along the sun-warmed hood of the Impala in the middle of a still summer day.

“Mmph,” he manages before sliding his cold leg across Castiel, threading his ankle between warm calves.

A hand Dean wasn’t aware of tightens its grip and Castiel sounds almost breathless when he says, “Good morning, Dean.”

“Cas.” Dean contemplates opening his eyes for a moment before concluding that it’s still too early, whatever time it actually may be. He flexes his ankles and stretches the arm he has slung across Castiel, then relaxes them and folds himself further into their embrace. “Time is it?”

Dean doesn’t need to see Castiel to know he’s squinting up at the ceiling. “Nearly 5:30 in the morning.”

“Hmmph.”

“You have been asleep for,” Castiel adds thoughtfully, “five hours.”

Dean exhales and feels Castiel shiver beneath his lips. “Not bad.”

“No,” Castiel agrees quietly. “Not bad.”

The room is quiet save for the whirring of the machineries that breath life into the bunker, the static hiss of ancient bespelled bulbs in the hallway. Dean can’t hear anything coming from the rest of the bunker. Their guests might be asleep still, or they could be awake and so battle tested that they managed to creep past even Dean Winchester. He should get up and start coffee for 30 people, or organize the food and other supplies he and Castiel had bought in town yesterday.

Or he could stay here in the quiet of Castiel’s embrace for a little while longer and try to wrap his head around how they’d arrived in each others’ arms.

Dean lets himself relax further and, with a small kiss pressed against Castiel, he unpacks the past day.

Continue reading on AO3

[vaudelin]

your sweet hand in mine

13x22 coda. alt!cas brought back to the bunker. 2500 wc [also on AO3]

Castiel comes quietly with the rest of the survivors, at least until the angelic handcuffs come out. After that, it is hours upon hours of Cas dragging him bodily towards the rift, to the point where even pushing him through does not bring Cas any sense of relief.

Rowena does a double-take when she sees them enter, Cas handcuffed beside his darker twin. She looks between them, then looks to Cas, her expression caught in half-measures that seem appropriate when regarding a doppelganger drafted from the other side.

“Bind him,” Cas tells her, pushing Castiel roughly. “Thoroughly,” he adds.

Rowena, wilting but not yet drained, warily complies.

They bring Castiel to an interrogation room within the bunker. They bind him to a chair, his hands cuffed with magic, forcibly stiff at his sides.

Bobby and Mary, Sam and Dean, spend collective hours questioning him. Cas hangs back from the intrigue, watching through the security feed. He knows how hopeless a ritual this is, but voicing it would only cast shadows onto himself.

This Castiel, with his twitches and scars and bad eye, tied up in the same chair where Donatello’s mind had been liquefied, would give up nothing beneath the tame form of questioning being offered.

Cas watches, but Castiel remains unaffected by the humans who know his name.

Small things change now that the survivors have moved into the bunker. With so many people living in one space schedules are spelled out for everyone, routines like laundry and showers and research parsed out in even shifts. Cas stands unchanged through it, the stream of people flowing around him as if he is mired in mud.

The survivors of that world don’t trust him, though they reluctantly embrace the benefits he brings them. Jack, they find easier to accept, but Cas to them is an ill-reputed stranger. He’ll never find their kinship while that cloud hangs around his name.

So Cas tries not to take their glares seriously, nor linger on the sting that comes whenever Charlie flinches away from his place in her line of vision. Cas tries to appreciate how Sam moves to sit beside him, between him and the others, acting as both a rock and a barricade.

Cas tries not to take it personally when all they see of him is the other him, when the salute to their new brothers name only Sam and Dean. He doesn’t blame them. This mistrust, it is the brand he deserves.

Cas drifts through the bunker in idle circles, though he strays back toward Castiel’s cell again and again. Morbid fascination lures him in as much as it repulses him. The existence of the other angel draws on him like a flame.

Cas circles the cell quarters until he closes in on the room where Castiel is kept. He rests a hand on the door, nails clutching at the iron and wood, then steadies himself. He glances at the security camera as he enters.

The room is dim. Poorly furnished. Decorated only with the chair upon which Castiel is bound. The red ribbons of Rowena’s spell flutter around his body. Though he otherwise remains still, Castiel’s face spasms with unwanted expressions, his cheek pulling his lips around on marionette lines.

Instinct rises again in Cas, that same impulse that nearly led to him stabbing Castiel with an angel blade. Just the sight of Castiel, both within and without his vessel, is enough to summon a throbbing ache in Cas’ own demolished wings.

His blade slides out again involuntarily, but the desire to end him is stifled by the same reasons as before: that Dean, for whatever reason, does not want Cas to kill him. That this other Castiel might serve a purpose for them yet.

The motion of the blade drawing into his hand, that slight sing of metal in the air, is enough to earn Castiel’s attention. He glances at Cas with one cloudy eye, the damage of which tremors through the blistered rings and feathers that comprise his true form.

“Appealing, isn’t it?” Castiel calls after him, puffing himself up, when Cas turns abruptly on his heel. The ruffle of his warped wings follows Cas out the door.

In the morning, Cas waits patiently for Sam and Dean to arise. He paces his way through their morning routine, staving off his need to speak until they’ve devoured most of their breakfast.

“I would like to take him outside,” Cas tells them, once the last of the runny eggs has been sopped up by corners of toast.

Dean frowns, pausing in his chewing. “Who?”

“Him,” Cas says. “Me. The other one.”

Dean shakes his head vigorously through his mouthful, leaving Sam the only one capable of verbalizing a reply. “Cas, I don’t think—if he gets out of the bunker, don’t you think he’ll run?”

“He can’t,��� Cas says, because it is easier to explain than He won’t. “Where would he go? Besides, Rowena’s spell will hold him. We won’t wander very far.”

Sam and Dean exchange that look again, the one that reminds Cas of his station here. That if his actions serve their purpose, they will allow it; otherwise Cas is just another nuisance in their way.

Dean crumples a napkin against his mouth. It drops to his plate. “Sure. Who knows—might help bring him over to our side.”

Dean pats him on the shoulder, and Cas nods as if he agrees. He thinks Dean doesn’t understand yet, which is fine. Dean doesn’t have to understand; Cas doubts he ever will.

On the day Cas brings Castiel out from his cell, the skies outside are spring-warm and sunny.

The land surrounding the bunker is mostly barren prairie, fallow fields where ranchers bring their cattle to lazily graze. Strips of forest grows out between the acres, clinging like small oases of brush where the wilds yet thrive. It’s too early in the year for the full show of life from the trees here, but the branches are lit up by budding leaves, and the mottled grounds are covered by patches of unkempt green.

Cas leads them down through the ditches, through where the scrub grows long and dried bulrushes peer up from puddles buried by the detritus of last winter. He doesn’t look to see whether Castiel follows, though he does, slouching and reluctant, his true form shivering beneath the onslaught of so much green. His hands twitch within the confines of Rowena’s red magic.

“I like it here,” Cas says, barely above the thrum of the wind. He thinks Castiel likes it too, gauging by how his wings puff out, warming beneath the sun. “You can’t see it now, but there are wildflowers that grow here. So many that grow, out here—” he waves vaguely at the ditches, by the roads where Dean drives “—and here,” Cas adds, gesturing to the trees. “Bellflowers and columbines, mostly. Burdock and blue asters by the fall. Dean says the yellow primroses attract the deer, which are a nuisance to him, but I like how they—”

“Dean is your world’s righteous man, is he?” Castiel cuts in, coming to a rest among the pussywillows.

“Yes,” Cas answers carefully, though he knows—he senses—what is to come.

Castiel ruffles what is left of his feathers, the secondary flights making a poor show of compensating for the primaries he’s lost. He surveys the land, his mouth twitching, coiled around an injury Cas isn’t entirely certain he recognises.

“Your righteous man,” Castiel growls, glaring at Cas with one blue eye. “You follow him, thinking he’s worthy. But he isn’t even worth half of my own righteous man.”

Castiel spits at the ground between them, and with that Cas sees red. He fires out at Castiel with a rage he hadn’t foreseen, taking two fistfuls of black overcoat in hand and forcing Castiel back, forcing him down, throwing him onto his back on the dirt.

“And what of you, Castiel,” Cas snarls over him. “What did you do for your righteous man? Did you fight for him? Did you bleed? Did you save him in the end? Or did you leaving him to die with the rest of the humans—”

“You know nothing—” Castiel spits, but Cas isn’t ready for him to talk just yet.

“I know,” Cas says. “I know what they did to you. Your Naomi wouldn’t be so different from mine. I know the tools she has in her arsenal, the tricks she has to getting her way. I know how hard she tries to reprogram us. What I don’t know is how you allowed it to stick.”

Castiel rears his head back with an animalistic rage, catching Cas by surprise when he cracks their skulls together. Cas flinches back and fires out with a fist on instinct, connecting with a spasming cheek, a second fist slamming into Castiel full on his chin.

Castiel spits blood at his back, as Cas drags him back toward the bunker. “Your humans aren’t worthy of the faith you have in them,” Castiel tells him, but Cas, moving one foot in front of the other, cares little for offering a reply.

Back inside the cell, Cas does not ask to bring Castiel outside again.

Midnight leaves the bunker silent. Cas wanders the halls, restless, while his people sleep. Castiel’s words haunt him even now, hours later, the emotion in his voice echoing as Cas’ own voice inside his head.

Cas finds himself drawn to Castiel, as ever, though this time he is surprised to find he isn’t alone inside his cell.

Cas draws the door open silently, lured in by the low voice speaking. He spies Dean sitting across from Castiel, arms crossed over the back of his chair, murmuring promises of deals that might make if only Castiel agrees to switch sides.

“There’s good in you,” Dean tells Cas’ darker self, sitting unresponsive across from him. “Our Cas, he had rough patches too. But we brought him through it, so don’t think that we’ll give up on you.”

Cas listens, still as a stone in the shadows, listening while Dean talks. Closing his eyes against the ache it brings him.

Dean shuffles in his seat, awaiting a response. Castiel stares at Dean the same way he stares at nothing. Like he is meaningless. His mouth pulls at itself as he formulates a reply.

“I see now,” Castiel says finally. “What he sees in you.”

“So is that a yes?” Dean asks, but Castiel has no further answers for him.

Cas slips out from the room before Dean sees him, before Dean realises that Castiel’s words were not directed at him.

The evening’s council meeting revolves around the problem of Castiel. Everything is ready for the assault against Michael, the only piece left unmatched being the reluctant angel in their midst.

Cas stands offside, listening while Bobby and Sam, Mary and Dean, all argue about what should be done with him. Denial and bargaining battle it out against anger, and some sort of rehabilitation scheme is tossed out across the war table into the open air.

“Well?” Dean asks, rounding on Cas, expecting backup.

Cas offers a careful shrug. He answers only once it becomes clear that Dean won’t allow anyone else to speak until Cas has his say.

Cas draws in a breath, knowing it for the final calm before Dean storms down on him for good. “I think he should be killed.”

And that—that goes over precisely as well as Cas expected. Perhaps even better, since it is only Dean yelling at him now, only Dean drowning out the voices of the others, only Dean clearly incredulous of Cas as he says, “Really? You? Of all the people here—you really want to put him down?”

Cas bites his cheeks. He forces all emotion out from his voice, hiding his self-loathing from himself and from Dean, for the moment. He says what he’s known since he first laid eyes on his apocalyptic half, what he’s known must happen since before Dean stayed the blade in his hand.

Cas won’t explain how this Castiel is but a bundle of guilt and faulty programming fighting for control. He keeps it simple as he says, “Dean, he’s suffering. He wants to be let go.”

Dean shakes his head, disbelieving. He takes a step back. Takes a long while to settle.

“He’ll come around,” Dean says finally, staring straight through Cas. “You did. He’ll come around too.”

Dean nods to himself, making it final.

Cas stands in the wake of Dean’s storm, caught in the musty grey misery of his own foul mood. He watches Dean leave knowing that his disappointment matches the faces all around him, that in spite of his intentions Cas has only managed to hurt Dean once again.

Even later, when he is alone and all his second-guessing has been done, Cas knows he is right, although there is no way for him to explain it all to Dean. He suspects Dean would have had to have been there, that afternoon when Cas dragged the other one back to the bunker, Castiel’s mouth bloody from the knuckles that split his bottom lip.

That after their fight, the other Castiel admitted that he was never as close to Michael’s vessel as Cas was to Dean, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t tried. That he hadn’t admired the vessel’s family, or that he hadn’t tried to sway the man from saying yes. And Castiel, after the final showdown came and passed, he fled. He helped the humans he could. At least until they found him again. Until they forced Castiel to hone his skills on the humans he once loved, and how the way in which those humans broke by his hands haunts him still.

That day, as Cas dragged his counterpart back through fallow fields, Castiel had sobbed, caught between hysteria and grief, that Your humans, you are not worthy of the faith they have in you.

Cas knows this. He agrees. Only he has no way of telling all these things to Dean, of revealing the depths to which that Castiel has been destroyed, not without telling Dean the depths to which Cas loves him too.

After.

After further arguments, after Dean and Sam rallied and railed against what they learned were Castiel’s wishes, and after they eventually succumbed; after they had dug the hole and laid his vessel’s body to rest—

Cas stares out at the fallow field around them. He listens to the whisper of birds and bugs and wind. He almost hears the flutter of wings not his own behind him. He shakes in some fundamental way he doesn’t yet comprehend.

Dean breathes out deeply beside him, leaning heavily on a spade beside the freshly filled grave. He wipes sweat from his brow, then frowns down at the dirt on his hand.

Cas reaches for him. He takes Dean’s wrist carefully in hand. “Thank you,” Cas says. “For changing me.”

Dean watches him closely, unknowing and somehow not needing to know. He turns his hand around, palm upward, his fingers unfurling as Cas slides to fit Dean’s hand.

Castiel thinks he will like it here, buried beneath the yellow primroses. He would, if it were him.

[sinditia]

Coda (of sorts) 13x22 - Cas vs AU!Cas

Let’s pretend for a moment that our Cas took AU!Cas captive.  I want to explore a possible conversation between him and our Cas. Mild Destiel.  For general audiences.  (There’s a slight POV shift near the end because Cas is unconscious, but hopefully it’s not too jarring).

Read at ao3

PS: please be gentle, it’s my first time.

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

Even though it was dark, Cas recognized the angel with the long coat striding out of the back of the abandoned gas station.  Sam, Dean, and Mary had stormed the building to free Charlie and Ketch, and Cas was confident in their abilities to dispatch the remaining angels after he and Jack took on the first wave. This particular angel was something he wanted to deal with himself.  He needed to.

The angel in question was climbing into a the driver seat of a truck, but Cas strode forward to grab the back of his coat, punched him in the face and slammed him against the car, angel blade at his throat.

They had the same vessel. Jimmy Novak was alive in this world. There were minor differences in their physical appearance but more noticeable were the differences in their grace, their essence.  This other Castiel was a paper cut angel.  Sliced and torn in strategic places, barely holding it together.  Cas looked at him coldly.  He would feel pity if he wasn’t so disgusted.

“More than … one of us?” the wrong Castiel rasped in a foreign accent.  “Fascinating.”

“I’ve gotten used to it,” Cas quipped

“You align yourself with the humans.”  It wasn’t a question.  Alternate-Castiel’s eyebrows were raised, his words said in wonder.

“I vastly prefer them to angels,” Cas declared challengingly.

“Don’t think that you are better than me,” alternate-Castiel sneered.  “We are the same.”

“Yes,” Cas agreed, dragging the tip of his blade down alternate-Castiel’s throat threateningly. “We are.”

Then Cas cracked the butt of his blade against alternate-Castiel’s skull, knocking him out cold.

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

Castiel was staring down at his double when Dean caught up with him.

“Hey Cas, we got Ketch and Charlie-“ He stopped short when saw the figure on the ground. “Holy shit, is that-“

“Me,” Castiel answered. “Or apocalypse-world-me anyway.”

“Is he .. a good guy?” Dean asked hesitantly, still staring at the unconscious angel in wonder.

Castiel sighed. “No.  He was called in to torture Charlie for information.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed, turning away.

There was a few moments of silence, then Castiel cleared his throat. “I should … probably kill him.”

Dean whipped his head around to look at him, “Wait, Cas-“

“No!”

Cas and Dean turned around to see Charlie, beaten and bloody, limping her way towards them. “No.  This douchnozzle reports directly to Michael.  If anyone knows where Michael is and what he’s planning, it would be him.”

“So you want to … bring him in for questioning?” Cas asked.

“Yeah,” Charlie answered, grinning menacingly.  “Give him a taste of his own medicine.”  She paused, looking at Cas.  “No offence.”

Cas shrugged.

Dean gestured between his Cas and the unconscious Castiel.  “And this doesn’t weird you out?” He asked Charlie.

“You know those moments in life where you’re just like, ‘this might as well happen’?” Charlie said. “That’s where I am now.”

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

“Where is Michael? What is he planning?”

They were in a cramped room. A storage closet, it looked like. It was dark, save for a dim lightbulb swinging from a cord attached to the ceiling.  Alternate-Castiel was bound in their extra pair of angelic handcuffs. Dean and Cas stood in front of him, angel blades at the ready.

“Ah so you are real,” alternate-Castiel muttered as he came to. “Not one of her tricks.”

“Whose tricks?” Cas demanded. “Naomi?”

“Could still be her tricks. Who knows?” alternate Castiel cackled. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Cas fell silent as alternate-Castiel continued to cackle quietly.  Beside him, Dean stood grimly, glaring at this deranged version of his best friend.  Cas suddenly felt self-conscious and slightly ashamed.  This is a Castiel with only a few decades of different experiences. Out of the many milennia that they both have lived, a few years have made such significant differences in their identity and personality.  How easily he could have become this alternate-Castiel.

It’s not the quantity of years, Cas reminded himself.  It’s the person – the people – you’ve spent them with.  The most important of whom is standing next to him, tall and stalwart as always.  Cas felt like hiding alternate-Castiel from Dean.  Cas knew what alternate-Castiel had been through, knew exactly why he was the way he was now.  It’s what had always been done to Cas: reprogramming.  But Cas guessed this had been at a scale that he had never experienced, for alternate-Castiel to look this way.  Cas knew what had been done to this alternate-Castiel, and he knew what this alternate-Castiel had done in turn.  And Cas didn’t want Dean to know about this side of him, the potential of what he could have been.

“Dean, maybe you should step out for a moment.”

“And leave you alone with this nutjob?”  Dean shook his head vehemently.  “Not a chance.”

“Dean,” Cas repeated forcefully.  Dean tore his gaze away from their prisoner to look Cas in the eyes. “He’s me.  I’ll be fine.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at Cas.  They stared at each other for a few moments, daring the other to back down.  Cas raised one eyebrow at Dean.

“Fine, I’ll be right outside” Dean conceded begrudgingly.  He glared down his nose contemptuously at alternate Castiel.  “But he’s not you, Cas.”  Dean left the room, slamming the door closed, leaving the two Castiels facing each other.

“Who is that?” alternate-Castiel asked curiously.

“His name is Dean Winchester”  Castiel answered.  He waited, curious if that would mean something to this alternate-Castiel, if the name ‘Dean Winchester’ transcended multiple universes to have some kind of atom-deep effect over other alternate Castiels, because Cas couldn’t imagine a Castiel without a Dean.  Well, Cas guessed, now he could.  

This Castiel seemed unimpressed.  “He’s a hu- human,” he said simply, mouth twitching.

“Yes, he is.”

Alternate-Castiel studied his captor for a few moments and his one good eye lit up in understanding. “You … align yourself with him.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at him.  The other angel was clearly insinuating something but he’s unsure what it was.

“My loyalties are with him,” Castiel declared.  “And with the humans.  They are my family.”

Alternate-Castiel scoffed. “Angels don’t have families.”

“Do I look like an angel to you?” Cas asked, raising one eyebrow.

Alternate-Castiel scrutinized him.  “What happened to you?”

“No,” Cas deflected. “The question that everyone in this room wants to know is, what happened to you?”  Cas leaned forward.  “Do you know what happened to you?”

“I- I don’t,” alternate-Castiel stammered, forehead scrunching in confusion.

“Do you remember … anything?” Castiel pushed, getting up to circle the other angel confined to his chair. “Do you know who I am?”

Alternate-Castiel’s eyes widened, his mouth started twitching like crazy.  His eyes darted around the room, blinking rapidly. He was muttering something, gibberish in a mixture of English and Enochian.

Castiel stopped directly in front of alternate-Castiel, taking his head with both hands in a tight grip, forcing the other angel to look him in the eyes.  “She’s not here,” Cas said firmly, looking into one blue eye and one blinded by countless lobotomies.  “Castiel,” Cas repeated, shaking him a little, making him whimper. “She’s not here.  You are a shield of God.  And she’s not here.”

Alternate-Cas finally looked up at Cas, his whole body was trembling minutely.  “Wh- what do you want?”

Cas straightened up. “Information on Michael.”

“So extract it from me,” Alternate-Castiel answered shakily, but plainly, in a manner of someone accustomed to having his thoughts, his memories, his very essence violated and perused at the whims of higher authority angels.

“Yes, I know we like to do that,” Cas said distastefully.  “But I prefer to leave that as a last resort.”

“You are not better than me,” alternate-Castiel hissed suddenly, jerking against his restraints.  “I am the last resort.  I am who they call to find the breaking point others cannot reach.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.  I know, Castiel,” said Cas sadly.  “I know you’re very familiar with breaking points.  Especially your own.  Which is why I’d rather not do it this way.”  Cas glanced at the closed door, behind which stood Dean Winchester, waiting for him. The man who set Cas apart from alternate-Castiel, the turning point, and the only thing in any universe that mattered.

The longing glance didn’t go unnoticed by alternate-Castiel, “Who is-“

Cas clamped a hand over alternate-Castiel’s mouth, muffling the rest of his question, and leaned in close. “I need you to listen to me very carefully, Castiel.”  Alternate-Castiel frowned up at Cas, stilled by the intensity coming from the other angel. “I want you to know that you have done your best.  What was done to you is not your fault.  And what you’ve done is beyond your control.  You have done your best.  You did all you could, but we are not the same.  Dean Winchester is the major difference between you and me.  You would have saved him first, but he would save you in every way that matters.” Cas sighed deeply before continuing.  “And I am so sorry.  I wish there was another way.”

Cas released his hold on alternate-Castiel’s mouth to quickly grab his head between his hands. Cas’s eyes started to glow and alternate-Castiel started to scream.

“DEAN!” Alternate-Castiel bellowed, in a voice remarkably similar to Cas’s.  “HELP ME!”

The door slammed open as Dean crashed into the room, eyes wild.

“Dean, no!” Cas turned to the door.  Alternate-Castiel took advantage of the distraction to throw his head forward and crack it against Cas’s skull.  

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

Cas stumbled backward onto the floor as alternate-Castiel turned around and charged against Dean, still confined to his chair.  Dean slammed into the opposite wall with a grunt, pinned under the weight of alternate-Cas in his chair.  The flimsy wooden chair broke into splinters between them and with a manic roar, alternate-Castiel pulled at his arms and snapped the cuffs apart.

Dean lost his angel blade in the scuffle, but getting his bearings, he punched alternate-Castiel in the jaw.  Alternate-Castiel’s angel strength barely felt the blow, turning back to grip Dean’s neck in a chokehold and lifting him up off his feet.  Dean’s feet were kicking the air, hands grappling at the iron grip of alternate-Castiel’s fingers.  

“Cas-“ Dean gasped, choking. Alternate-Castiel was suffocating the life out of him, glaring at him with a face that was so familiar, yet so different with that one injured eye and that manic glint.

And yet, maybe it’s the lack of oxygen, but Dean thought he saw alternate-Castiel squint in that quintessential ‘Cas’ way, then tilt his head to one side, the way his Cas had always done.  Maybe Dean only imagined alternate-Castiel opening his mouth and start to say, “De-“

Because it was cut short by a blood-curdling scream as blinding grace poured out of alternate-Castiel’s eyes and mouth, the tip of an angel blade sticking out of his heart from where Cas, his Cas, had stabbed him in the back.

Dean gasped as air filled his lungs and he slumped down to the floor.  Alternate-Castiel lay dead next to him, mangled, featherless wings seared to the ground.  Dean’s heart started pounding as he was suddenly brought back to kneeling by the cabin in North Cove, Washington, a lifeless Castiel at his feet, having also been stabbed in the back.

“Dean, are you alright?”

Dean looked up at the deep, familiar voice.  No, that’s his Cas.  Alive, and breathing, and had his arm outstretched to help Dean up.

“Yeah,” Dean answered breathlessly, taking Cas’s hand and allowing the angel to pull him up to his feet and into a hug.  Dean shut his eyes, burying his face into Cas’s neck, turning his head away from the lifeless Castiel on the floor, focusing on the alive Castiel in his arms.

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

Cas was sitting on the ledge of the steps to the map room in the bunker when Dean dropped on the steps next to him.  All around them, conversations were getting rowdy as the whisky and beer started to kick in and the rebels, feeling relaxed for once, tried to one-up each other with their battle tales.  

“So,”  Dean said in greeting, handing him a beer.  “Meeting an alternate universe version of yourself. Trippy, huh.  Been there, man.”  He chuckled.

Cas accepted the bottle but didn’t drink from it.  “Did you also had to kill the alternate version of yourself?”

“Well, no.”  Dean grimaced.  “But I did see the guy get killed.  By Lucifer.  Wearing Sam, no less.”  He shuddered. “But I mean, I don’t know if they’re the same thing.  It’s not like that was a real world.  It’s more like some weird hallucination Zach cooked up to mess with my head.  These people are real.” He said gesturing at their guests.  “That Cas was-“

“Dean?” Cas interrupted, placing his hand on Dean’s, making him freeze.  “I want to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For everything.” Cas smiled. “I think I just got a glimpse of what life would be like – what I would be like – if I had never met you. You – you and Sam – are the best parts of me.”

Cas’s hand tightened around Dean’s.  His skin was so warm.  Their faces were so close.  Cas could see Dean swallow nervously, his pulse fluttering under his jaw, and his deep green eyes searching his.  “Dean, I-“ Cas breathed.  He’s said it once, so he could say it again right?  No one was paying any attention to them.  Or maybe because he’s already said it, he couldn’t say it again. Dean’s breath hitched, waiting for Cas to continue.  “- am very grateful.”

Dean smiled.  It was the most beautiful thing Cas had ever seen and he’s been alive for millennia.  He’s seen a world without it and it was so dark.  Cas will forever count his blessings that he lives in a universe that had Dean Winchester in it.  And because he couldn’t help it, Cas leaned forward and kissed Dean softly on the cheek, feeling his stubble prickle his lips.  Cas smiled as he pulled away, pretending not to notice the blush creeping up to colour Dean’s freckles.  Cas took a sip from his beer and got up to join the festivities.

[nox-lee]

A Calm Between Storms

The bunker is full, and although more spare rooms seem to have sprouted from nowhere, they're all occupied now. The room Castiel sometimes stays in is full of snoring soldiers, and so, through some unspoken arrangement, he finds himself in Dean’s room.

“What was he like?” Dean finally asks.

“Awful. Cruel, and twisted, and broken beyond repair.”

A 13x22 coda. Read it on AO3.

[sassysousa]

13x22 Coda - Speak the Truth

Words: 819 Read on AO3

“Yes, I've done bad things, but—” Lucifer shrugged with his palms raised.

“Bad things?” Castiel balked. “You have lied to and manipulated all of us! You tricked me into thinking you could defeat the Darkness, you used my body— You've killed thousands of people, at least!” Castiel's hands clenched into shaking fists, “And what you did to Sam…”

Jack looked between Castiel and his father, “What did he do to Sam?” he urged Castiel.

Castiel glared at Lucifer, “Hundreds of years of the worst kinds of torture—”

“Hey, hey,” Lucifer whined, ”’Torture’ is a little strong don't you think?”

“No.”

They turned to see Sam, followed by Dean and Gabriel, approaching.

“Sammy! So glad you could join—”

“Never call me that.”

Lucifer recoiled, “Touchy, touchy—”

“Stop,” Jack held up his hand at Lucifer, “Sam…”

Sam stared Lucifer down, “Torture is putting it lightly. I've been tortured before but you... You took everything out on me. I was just there, and… and you couldn't match Michael, could you, so you turned it on me. You went for my mind, my soul… my body—”

“Oh come on, you liked that part,“ Lucifer rolled his eyes.

“You bastard!” Dean leapt forward, fist raised, but Castiel caught him.

“But I'm… But I made it out, Jack,” Sam's eyes never left Lucifer, “Ask him… Go on, ask him what he did to Kelly. What he did to your mother.”

Jack slowly turned to Lucifer.

Lucifer turned to him.

Jack's voice took a dark edge, “What did you do to her.”

He shrugged and shuffled his feet, “Well, you know, two crazy kids… Rolling in the sheets—”

“You lied to her,” Castiel cut in, “You came to her under the guise of the man she loved and you impregnated her without her consent. You r--” Castiel broke off. He swallowed, “She was imprisoned under your orders. She suffered so much because of you. It should have broken her, but she was so strong. She faced her death with such bravery,“ Castiel turned to Jack, tears in his eyes, “She loved you so much, Jack…”

Lucifer huffed and took a step back, “Oh sure, gang up on me! Not like I'm not used to it! Dad, you jerks, what's the difference?”

“Is that what you think happened?” Gabriel said, disdain and disappointment in his tone, “You think you were the victim here? No.” he shook his head, and pointed at Lucifer, “No, Dad saw what you really were, that's why he locked you up. Humanity was innocent and beautiful before you! But you couldn't stand that he loved them more, could you? You had to spread your evil like a disease, you had to corrupt them, spread it to them like a cancer!”

Jack inched toward Castiel, “All that… Is all that true?”

Lucifer’s lip curled. He rolled his shoulders and held up his wrists. His eyes lit and the cuffs melted, “So you're all going to turn him against me…”

“Hey!” Gabriel pushed Sam behind him. Castiel followed suit with Dean. “Dammit, Lucifer, no one's turning anyone! You did this to yourself.”

Lucifer’s hands shot up. Everyone but Jack was thrown out into the middle of the camp, “Jack, you see what they're doing, right? They're trying to turn you against me, son--”

“Don't call me that!”

Lucifer stood taller, “I'll call you what I want! I'm your father!”

“No you aren't,” Jack stood his ground, ”You're the person who hurt my family.”

Jack raised his hand and hit Lucifer with a blast of power. Lucifer was knocked back, but stayed on his feet. He glared up at Jack through the waves, “You little brat!” he shouted in surprise. He raised his own hand and Jack was rising, scrabbling at his throat, “You'll show me some respect—”

“Jack!” Sam had gotten to his feet and was running to them.

Gabriel grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him, pushing him back to the ground. Still sprinting, Gabriel dropped his blade from his sleeve—

And stabbed Lucifer in the side.

Jack fell and crumpled on himself, gasping for breath. Sam, Castiel, and Dean ran to him.

Lucifer fell to his knees, clutching his wound. He looked up at Gabriel, “Brother…”

Gabriel wouldn't meet his eyes. He went to Sam and put a hand under his arm, gently asking him to stand.

He brought Sam over to Lucifer and held his blade out in his hand, “I have to hold it, but…” he took Sam's hand and placed it around his own.

Sam’s eyes widened, he turned to Jack.

Jack nodded, “For my mother.”

Cas gripped Jack's shoulder.

Sam faced Lucifer and tightened his grip around Gabriel's. His face hardened, “For Rowena, too. For everyone.”

Lucifer shook his head, his eyes wide with disbelief, “No… You can't… You can't…”

Sam narrowed his eyes, “How did you think this was gonna end?”

He stabbed Lucifer in the heart.

[72degreescold]

13x22 coda

“How did you think this-” Sam’s hiss cut off, the world bottoming out under him, under the devil and God’s chosen, under the grey sky and the apocalyptic flames surrounding the three of them. With a sharp snap, and a pop, the tear in reality sealed itself shut. He stared. He stared, face stone, a sheet of slate as he stared down into blue eyes, thousands upon thousands of thoughts whirring through them until they glimmered crimson. And the devil smiled. Bitter. Sharp. His forked tongue licked at the blood on his lips. “Cat got your tongue?”  And Sam flew back, dead weight spiraling and plowing into a tree, falling in a heap in the dirt and pushing himself up after catching the breath that’d been forced out of him. The devil was hurt. Not mortally. Not weak. He was hurt, but he was the devil. And he stared down at Sam, knowing written clear in the lines in his face about what had been milliseconds away from happening. The air crackled, like lightening about to strike. Lucifer raised a hand, turned only just to address this counterpart to his brother. “Michael,” he said, turning red eyes away from his vessel, “Let’s make a deal.” The sizzling faded, a brow raised and a laugh joined it.  Sam watched, nailed to the bark behind his back, his fingernails digging into the dirt to ground himself, to clutch at something, anything, his gaze looking at the spot where the other side had waited. Now only dead air. A world, grey and vacant and empty and fat with death. And him. And the two archangels of the apocalypse. Same old song. “I saw them do the spell,” Lucifer’s voice cut through. Sam looked at him, at his sickeningly familiar silhouette blackened by holy fire, “I know the ingredients.” Sam looked at Michael. Michael was listening. “I want my son. I just want my son,” Lucifer promised. Michael considered him. “A truce,” the elder brother proposed.  “Hey, look. You beat your version of me, right?” The devil raised his hands in a half-shrug, played at a feeble grin, “Not my war, hombre. And my version of you is a little ... well, let’s just say he’s not strapping on the combat boots any time soon.”  Michael bowed his head, dark eyes locking onto Lucifer, lip curling. “We cross over. You get your son. I get everything else.” The wager rolled off his tongue like he was testing it, a bargain alien to him. Foreign.

Lucifer lowered his hands. He looked aside, slow, his brows knit, the creases between them deep with age - ancient. 

“Well,” he said, eyes on Sam, “There is one other thing.”

[ruinedsam]

Gencest Fic Rec

Mostly oneshots because that's what I tend to read.

A Big Fake Hunter Wedding by Alyndra: humor/crack, case fic in which Sam and Dean get platonically married

acta non verba by laertez: 13x22 episode tag, Dean cleans the blood off Sam

a few things worth saying by hathfrozen: S10 AU, queerplatonic Sam and Dean, platonic kissing

An Irrevocable Condition by remy (iamremy): 4x21 CD, Dean doesn't leave Sam alone in the panic room

a hopeless violence [i named it love] by kanicro: S9 AU, instead of having an angel possess Sam, Dean gives him demon blood to save him

Aleph by story_monger: S4 AU, by the time the angels get Dean out of hell, he's already a demon.

And All She Saw Was Love by stillwaters01: S7 CD, death fic

Brother's Blood by diana_lucifera, stormageddon: Pilot AU, Dean is the one going missing on a hunt so John get Sam from Stanford | first part of a series, future parts wincest slow burn but this one is gen

cat crazed by altered: vaguely late seasons, Sam turns into a catboy, schmoop

Disney Princess Hair by Dyed_Red: Sam gets hit with a sleeping beauty curse, fluff

From me to you by EternalSheWolf: the epic love story of Sam and Dean in snapshots

Ghost in the Machine by phoenixflight: 15x20 coda, Dean sticks around as ghost until Sam burns his body

golgotha by redskyatmorning: S14 CD, Sam becomes the boyking to save Dean from Michael

Growing Darkness Taking Dawn by lightning and a lightning bug (spoons): S4, angst, hurt Sam

happier by altered: S10 AU, with a demon Dean who is obsessed with Sam

if you bite it, you own it by altered: weirdcest, non-sexual kink (biting)

it's not somebody who's seen the light by The_Bookkeeper: AU, Dean is the one with demon blood

I would like to watch you, sleeping by redmyeyes: S1, Dean watches Sam

Less Than Dirt. by ulexite: pre-series + S1, CD, case fic

Marked for Death by aceofhearts61, juba (jubah): post 15x19, Amara sends Sam and Dean on a trip of sorts to resolve their issues

Morning As They Come Down by kirathehyrulian, scippy: post 15x19, fluff

One Question Less by stardust_made: 8x23 coda

patchwork scars by altered: weirdcest, non-sexual kink (biting, painplay)

peace and unquiet by altered: weirdcest, non-sexual kink (hair pulling)

Premonition by cherie_morte: post 15x19, case fic

romeo and juliet are together in eternity (we can be like them) by saintsamantha: vaguely season 2, transfem Sam

so let it out and let it in by nowhere_blake: 12x02 coda, Mary POV

Sounds Like Truth and Feels Like Courage by sprinkles888: late seasons, queerplatonic Sam and Dean | Sam discovers the MoL found a way to utilize soul magic, platonic cuddling ensues amongst other things

stargazing by allforsammy: 8x23 coda, voicemail fix-it

stone number one by iamremy: 15x17 coda

with my pulse on your lips by altered: S10 AU, the demon!Dean we deserved, feeding Sam his blood

[theirprofoundbond]

Home Fires Universe Masterpost

The Home Fires universe diverges from the tail end of 13x22, and all works can be read as standalones.

❤️️️️ Hidden Things | tumblr post (recommended!) | AO3 | playlist

15.3k words. Teen. Dean/Castiel with minor Claire/Kaia and very minor Sam/Eileen. Angsty pining, a surprise, and a happy ending.

Summary:

Two years after everyone makes it safely back from Apocalypse World, everything is… great, actually—for everybody but Dean. The comfortable little life he’d been building for himself is in ruins, and now he’s drifting. When Dean is accidentally exposed to a potent spell, Castiel shows up to help him deal with the effects, and it’s finally time for some hidden things to be revealed.

❤️️️️ Himbo | tumblr post | AO3

300 words. General Audiences. Wayward sisters + Jack. Silly and fun gen deleted scene.

Summary:

Claire texts Castiel to let him know that Dean is in a bit of trouble.

❤️️️️ Sparked | tumblr post

500 words. General Audiences. A 4x1 coda.

Summary:

After an unusual encounter, Dean can't help his middle-of-the-night curiosity.

❤️️️️ No Better Thing | tumblr post | AO3

5.8k words. Teen. Claire/Kaia. Cute girlfriends, domestic sweetness, and an emotional moment.

Summary:

When Claire returns from a hunt, Kaia takes her to the cabin so they can spend some time together, and Claire surprises her with a gift.

❤️️️️ Red Letter Day | tumblr post | AO3 | playlist

18.6k. Mature. Dean/Castiel with minor Sam/Eileen and very minor Claire/Kaia. Domestic fluff, wings, and words from the heart.

Summary:

Red letter day: A particularly significant day; usually used to refer to a memorably important or happy occasion. Dean proposes to Castiel, and they plan a small ceremony with a big reception. From the first look to the first dance, and from a public emotional speech to a private one, their summer wedding is a red letter day.

❤️️️️ At least one more major story for this series is planned, along with some one-shots, so I recommend subscribing 😊

Read the series on AO3.

[sourstiless]

here’s a list of criminal minds episodes to rewatch with commentary by me

they’re top tier i promise

1x06 LDSK - reid and morgan’s relationship is what keeps me going everyday.

1x09 derailed - just a good episode. i like when reid talks down unsubs makes me feel things

1x14 ride the lightning - i cried.

1x22, 2x01 fisher king - so much happened that i cant even put it into words but they’re great episodes

2x11 sex, birth, death - can you tell i like reid centric episodes?

2x15 revelations - angst

3x05 seven seconds - just another suspenseful episode. it’s sad, but not sad in that way that you generally think.

3x16 elephants memory - :(

3x20, 4x01 lo-fi and mayhem - i think my heart stopped and my anxiety went 📈📈📈📈

4x03 minimal loss - just amazing. 10/10. emily and reid 👌🏼

4x22 the big wheel - i cried again. also alex oloughlin.

4x24 amplification - more crying. hits different watching with all this coronavirus stuff.

5x09 100 - well fuck. that’s all i have to say.

5x12 the uncanny valley - another sad one. you genuinely feel bad for the unsub. some badass reid yeet.

5x16 mosley lane - if you don’t cry you don’t have a heart so fuck you

5x22-6x01 - not particularly because they’re good but because i really like reid’s hair

6x12 corazon - more reid centric, but overall just a very interesting episode.

6x16 coda - another really good episode. one of my favorites. reid with kids is beautiful. we were robbed.

6x18 lauren - i fucking hate criminal minds.

7x01 it takes a village - this is calm and it’s doctor. iconic.

7x02 proof - i love passive aggressive reid. he’s my favorite.

7x11 true genius - more emily and reid bonding. my favorite friendship.

7x23, 7x24 hit and run - more anxiety.

8x12 zugzwang - fuck this show. diane turner is hot tho.

8x24 the replicator - how do none of them get hurt in the helicopter crash? i am still confusion.

9x05 route 66 - reid looks pretty

9x23, 9x24 angels and demons - even more anxiety. part of me died.

10x18 rock creek park - reid speaks russian in it and i think that’s pretty cool

10x21 mr scratch - wild episode. think i stopped breathing at one point because everyone died. not a spoiler dw.

11x11 entropy - one of, if not, my favorite episodes. cat adams can run me over with a truck.

11x18 a beautiful disaster - more fucking anxiety and tears.

11x22 the storm - yeet

12x13 spencer - fuck any episode titled with bau members’ names.

12x22 red light - oh god what can i say except is it fucking HOT in here or what

13x01 wheels up - i love emily :(

13x15 annihilator - reid being a loyal friend to emily we fuckin love to see it. fuck linda barnes she can choke.

13x16 last gasp - we stan one team and one team only.

13x22 believer - minimal loss.

14x01 300 - much love for reid and garcia.

14x05 the tall man - idk just a cool episode. kind of jj centric.

14x07 twenty seven - the way reid does cpr is really funny

15x04 saturday - WHY DIDNT WE GET MORE OF THESE EPISODES THEYRE SO CUTE

15x06 date night - max and cat can both shoot me in the face and i’d thank them.

[fangirlxwritesx67]

Sam Masterlist

Sam Winchester One-Shots A Very Good Bed (1200 words, Sam x Eileen, Dean)  Alone In The Bunker (460 words, Sam x you/reader) Bailey’s (600 words, Sam x you/ reader, comfort fic/fluff) Bitchface (1300 words, no pairing, Sam + reader) Candy Shop (500 words, Sam x Rowena x Gabriel) Can’t Sleep (1000 words, Sam x you/reader) Come For Me (3100 words, Sam x you/reader) Dancing In the Moonlight (500 words, Sam x reader)  Dancing Queen (1000 words, Sam x you/reader, all fluff) Deeper Than Deep Conditioner (1000ish words, no pairing) Don’t Let Me Drown (1650 words, Winchester brothers genfic) Follow My Lead (4200 words, Sam x Jody)  Funeral Sex (1500 words, Sam x you/reader) Games We Play (500 words, Sam x Rowena) Good Enough (750 words, Sam x OFC Lara) Homecoming (1000 words, Sam x you/reader) If There Is A Key (1100 words, Sam x Stevie Budd, Schitt’s Creek crossover) Like Art, Like Fire (2000 words, Sam x you/reader) Little Sweet Treat (1100 words, Sam x you/reader, coffee shop) Look at the Stars, pt 1 (1200 words, au!college/stoner Sam x you/reader) Look at the Stars, pt 2 (1700 words, au!college/stoner Sam x you/reader Lucia (1650 words, Sam x ofc Lucia, fluffy smut) Owe You One (6000 words, Sam x Rowena, 13x22) Paper Rings (1300 words, Sam x OFC Dani)  Ready for Anything (2600 words, Sam x nurse!reader) Stay With Me (1500 words, Sam x you/reader) This is Halloween (3600 words, Winchester genfic)  Toes in the Sand (1300 words, Winchester genfic) Twigs & Twine & Duct Tape & Safety Pins (4000 words, Sam x Max Banes) Up the Walls (1500 words, Sam x you/reader) Welcoming Him Home (1100 words, unnamed male character or Sam Winchester x you/reader) Worth Her While (5800 words, Sam x Rowena, platonic Dean) Would Do Anything (744 words, Sam x you/reader, fluff only) 

Looking for Walker fanfic? Check here 

Cry No More A Sam Winchester Finale Series

Highway of Regret Masterpost

On My Darkest Day A Sam x Rowena finale au love story in six chapters

Summary: Sam Winchester is aging and lonely in his later years. He draws comfort from memories of a woman who was the light of his life: Rowena MacLeod.

Taken By The Wind A Sam Winchester x Rowena MacLeod Love Story

When The Rain Washes You Clean: more of the Sam x Rowena love story

Celebrations A Sam Winchester x Rowena MacLeod Holiday Series

Cross TImbers: A Winchester Camping Trip - Dean x Donna, Sam x Jody, 7000 words

Looking For A Black Cat A Sam x Rowena AU series

Queen Rowena: a Sam x Rowena fantasy au love story.

Sam Winchester x Rowena MacLeod (not in Series) If They Had A Moment (15x03 coda, 800 words) Magic Hair (1200 words, all fluff) Pushing Buttons (au!kale Sam x Rowena, 2500 words) Waking Up (another 15x03 coda, 500 words)

Coffee with Cream A College Sam Coffee Shop AU (all fluff)

Choose Your Own Winchester Cherry Blossom (672 words) Feel Better (500 words) Hospital Time (500 words) Sick Day (350 words)