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daughterofcain-67 · 1 year ago

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𝕽𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 (𝔭𝔱6)

(Dean Winchester x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Sam and Castiel lock Dean up after his attempt to kill Gadreel and they search to find a way to Metatron. Meanwhile you find yourself worried about Dean's progression with the mark and how it has effected him. After convincing you to let him out, Dean summons Crowley and the three of you find a way to locate Metatron.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: Based on Season 9 episode 23 - major spoilers ahead. Death of a character.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫‘𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hey guys, so this chapter was a bit longer than the others and I got a little carried away with this one but I hope you enjoy!

Then...

Dean saw Gadreel and he was already on the verge of seeing nothing but red. He was the man that killed Kevin. He possessed Sam for the longest time. Now was the worst time for him to come waltzing into the bunker.

"I mean no harm." Gadreel began.

"I've thought about what you said, and you're right." He continued but it was clear that everyone in the bunker was on their guard.

"Metatron is.. Something must be done. I can give him to you, I know where he is." He said

"The bombers? Those were his agents, not yours." He said as he looked at Castiel. "I understand if you don't trust me, and I understand. But we have all made mistakes. I know I have made many. But please, give me a chance."

Dean was still so unsure about this and he honestly wasn't sure if they should take this chance. If Gadreel thought about double crossing them then...

Well, Dean walked over and offered Gadreel his hand to shake. But instead of this handshake being one that stood for an alliance, Dean pulled the First Blade from behind his back again and slashed Gadreel in the chest.

Your eyes widened when you saw Sam and Dean holding Dean back and you could tell that Dean was so far from done when it came to this specific angel.

Now...

Dean was severely pissed off that Gadreel was in the Bunker. He hated that Cass and Sam seemed to be willing to work with him after everything Gadreel put all of them through. Dean had already nearly lost his relationship with Sam over the possession fiasco. None of this felt right and he just wanted them to hurry up and find out where the Hell Metatron would be.

What was making everything so much worse was that Sam and Castiel insisted on putting Dean in the dungeon where they put Crowley. Was it really necessary to put him on lockdown like he himself was a demon or some other kind of prisoner?! They needed to come up with a plan now that Castiel lost his army. Yet Sam was insisting on locking up the only one that can tank the stupid sonofa bitch!

His mind going everywhere at once. And it didn’t help that he was feeling nauseated since Sam took the blade away.

His arm was killing him, and typically distracted himself from it with by drinking. But his bottle of Jack was already emptied and they hadn’t gone back for more, and so was the six pack they just bought. He wished Cass hadn’t knocked him out with his stupid angelic mojo that he had. Then he could take out every bad thing that’s every happened to him and Sam out on Gadreel as much as he wanted to. He hated that he was being put on the bench right now while everyone was recuperating until they find where Metatron was.

He heard the locks turning on the doors but he was caught by surprise when he glanced up and saw you coming through the door.

“What do you want?”

“To check on you. Is that a crime now, Mr. Dictator?”

Dean sighed a little, gathering you heard what he told Sam before Gadreel came onto the scene. He realized that you didn’t wait on him to tell you to shut the door, or to have a seat next to him on the concrete floor despite the devil’s trap painted all around.

“You haven’t exactly been much help lately. I thought that was the whole point of Sam asking you to come along.” Dean said with a little grumble.

“And when exactly have we had the time to actually sit down and talk so I can try? All you’ve done the past day and a half or so since I’ve met you was argue with your brother, then the angel, then you went and caught a reaper then proceeded to kill her.” He rolled his eyes at your little tangent.

“I didn’t kill her. For the last damned time she threw herself into the blade.”

“That’s another thing. You had an agreement with your brother and it was pretty shitty of you to break that deal just because of the stupid mark. And you damn well know that too.”

“Are you done lecturing me? You’re not my mother.”

“No, as a matter of fact, I’m not done.” You answered and he grunted with frustration. “If you’re so mad at the world, then why don’t you be mature about this damned mark and use it properly instead of tossing yourself into the fire or throwing stupid tantrums like a damned child?”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.”

“You are. Your brother is worried about you and we’ve talked about that before. And I can tell you care about Sam too. But more importantly, I know you’ve been trying not to become the person you’re turning into. Cain warned you of the great cost of this mark. And everyone around you can tell that it is really changing you. But no one else can see how it’s affecting you physically.” You said and he looked at you.

When he looked at you, he could tell that there was something off about you - for a demon that is. You kind of reminded him of Crowley when he had a taste of human blood. It was weird that you were bringing up his brother in all of this, weird that you were trying to reason with him. Or maybe all of this was some big lie and you were working with Crowley just to get the blade.

“And how exactly am I supposed to ‘properly’ use it without it feeling like Hell all the time?”

“First.. tell me how you’re feeling. Right now.”

He lifted a brow and he hadn’t expected that to be the first remark about this whole thing. He looked down at his arm and oddly enough, when he thought about it, his mark wasn’t burning, itching, or driving him quite as crazy as it’s been since he got it. It’s like every time you’re near, like he’s discovered before, it was like a sense of calm similar to what the blade gave him when he held it.

“It’s… better than it’s been in the past I suppose.”

“Okay.. Is it the same feeling you get with the First Blade?” He nodded.

“I know that with this mark, it makes you irritated, easily angry almost all of the time. It makes you yearn for some kind of relief like a drug and killing is the only way to make the pain completely go and you’re on a high. I still go through it even if I’ve been in hiding all this time. I know you didn’t want to talk about it while we were in Castiel’s headquarters but… now’s a good a time as any now that it’s just this group right?” Dean supposed he couldn’t deny any of this.

“Do you trust me?” You asked him, causing Dean to look at you.

“What?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Trust is kind of an iffy word for everyone right now, you know.”

“Well yeah, being a demon doesn’t help. But I mean with this whole mark thing.” Dean thought about it for a moment and he shrugged.

“I guess so, considering…”

“I need to know just how far you’ve developed with the mark. And.. the only way I can really do that is kind of with a mind meld.”

“You mean the thing shifters do? No, I don’t think so.” He heard you groan with clear aggravation and he lifted a brow.

“Dean, do you want my help or not?”

Dean was about to argue but his head started to ache and he ended up giving in, not really wanting to put up a fight. The next thing he knew, he could feel your hand on his head.

When you placed your hand on his head, you basically had a recap of everything leading up to Dean getting the mark and the aftermath of it. It was like a montage if anything.

You saw that he was working with Crowley first behind Sam’s back to kill Abaddon. You saw when they went to the bee farm where Cain resided and you could feel the instant that Dean got the mark. The sensation and adrenaline rush was something indescribable. Then there was the first time he held the First Blade in his hands. The moment that Dean knew he couldn’t be stopped. You saw the first time that he killed with it, then the next time, then the time he finally got to kill your mother.

That sight was something to behold for you. You saw just how powerful Dean was becoming with the mark since he was able to withstand the force Abaddon had when she tried to pin him against the wall. You could see Dean walk to the Knight of Hell and it took one stab through the abdomen to kill her. But it wasn’t enough. You could feel how the mark overtook Dean and he straddled the Knight, stabbing her over and over again until his hand was soaked with red and his face and clothes were covered with blood. The overkill was too much, yet so satisfying for him and he needed that release up until Sam got him to stop.

Now it was at the point where you could see why Dean felt the need to take the blade everywhere with him.

When you took your hand away and you looked at Dean, you could see that his face was getting pale. He got up and ran to the corner of the room, causing you to cringe when Dean practically spilled his guts in the corner. You looked away as you heard him coughing up whatever he ate and when it was over, you looked over at him and he was looking at himself in the mirror you didn’t know was there.

You saw the look of worry in his face and when you squinted, you saw the red on the corner of his lips before he used his sleeve to wipe up the blood as best as he could from his mouth.

“So… Crowley was the one that got you into this hole Cain mess, huh?” You asked.

“Oh bite me.” He grumbled and you watched Dean gather some supplies.

“What are you doing?”

“Grabbing the shit I need to talk to Crowley. He's the one that got me into this damned mess, so he can tell me what’s going on with me.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m right here, and I could always tell you so you don’t have to go running off with the guy you want to kill again.” You reminded.

You watched Dean turn his head towards you before he sighed and walked over. He sat down in front of you while you were still in the devil’s trap.

“I can’t turn whatever this is off. Ever since Abaddon… I need to kill. It’s more than just that junkie kind of feeling now. It’s constantly eating at me and if I don’t kill-“

“You find your guts are being vomited out.”

“Thanks for putting it lightly.” He rolled his eyes and you sighed at how stubborn he was.

“You’re in this pretty deep, Dean. Honestly I don’t know how much help I can be at this point. You guys should have come sooner.” You sight before continuing.

“All of this is because of the mark. I can tell you that much. The mark wants you to kill, it’s trying to take control in a way. The more you kill, the better you feel. The less you kill… well you get the idea from exhibit A.” You said and pointed at the disgusting puddle in the corner. “And if you don’t I’m afraid that you’ll.. well…”

“Die? You’re not dead, and neither is Cain.”

“The difference is that dear old Dad and I are demons, remember? You’re human… The blade is an unbelievably powerful thing for any mortal. Your body is just not strong enough to take in all that power.”

“What so you’re saying I can’t handle this Metatron thing?” He asked getting on the defensive and you rolled your eyes.

“No, dumbass. No human is able to contain that much power. It’s nothing personal. Hell if it didn’t effect humans this bad I’s say you’re one of the best candidates out there. Cain knew what he was doing when he gave you his curse.”

Then you could see the wheels turning in Dean’s mind. You tilted your head and wondered what he was thinking about. Was it the thought of dying that was holding him back? Was he wondering if Sam would bother to bring him back after this mess?

“What if I got rid of it?”

The fact that dean came up with that thought sort of surprised you. You weren’t sure if he really meant what he asked or if he just didn’t want to barf up his intestines again. This was a side of Dean you hadn’t come across yet and you had to admit, it was a little worrisome. Even for you.

“Is that something you actually want?” You asked.

“What I want is Metatron dead… that’s the main priority. Then everything else we can get sorted out later. But I need you to help me out.”

You gazed up at the green-eyed hunter and you knew that this probably wouldn’t end well with his never-ending sibling drama. A part of you knew he may die, whether its because of Metatron or because of the mark if Sam an Dean couldn’t get it off in time since that was a seemingly new idea for Dean. But you knew how important this Metatron case was for the boys.

You sighed and you stood up, “Well, you can’t expect me to help you if I’m in the devil’s trap, can you?”

And for the first time since you’ve met the man, Dean smirked. It wasn’t a smile, but it was close enough. It was odd being smiled at by a hunter. But you watched him break out his pocket knife and scrape the floor so you had a way out.

“While you’re at it, you might as well summon Crowley now too. I’ve got a couple of bones to pick with him myself.”

Then you disappeared from Dean’s sight.

You and Dean made it out of the Bunker only to realize that Sam, Castiel and Gadreel were gone. So you took the opportunity to take the blade and flee the Bunker. Although you didn't like the fact that Crowley was sitting in the Impala with you and Dean on the way to wherever the Winchester planned on driving to.

Dean's phone was going off yet again and you knew that it was Dean. You knew how concerned that Sam was and you hoped that Dean knew what he was doing. What if they were coming up with a different plan and Dean wasn't there to hear it?

You, Dean and Crowley made it to Dean's little destination of sorts. Another bar - big surprise there. But you all stepped out of the car, Dean had the blade in one hand and a laptop tucked beneath his arm.

You sat down at the table quietly as Dean opened up his laptop and initially, Dean only ordered a coffee. But then Crowley rambled about something you didn't care to pay attention. But the King of Hell convinced Dean to at least order something to eat. Although you weren't sure if he'd actually eat based on you witnessing him getting sick back in that little dungeon.

"So... you actually exist." Crowley said, shifting his small talk to you since Dean was being mostly unresponsive and too focused on his computer screen since Sam wasn't here to do the research for him.

"Yeah. Can't say the same for two of your demons. Thanks for that by the way." You said spitefully.

You watched the suit wearing demon with the accent lean back in his chair, more intrigued with you rather than fearful of you.

"Forgive me. I needed your assistance with something but I see Moose and Squirrel got to you first."

"Moose and wha-"

"Dumb pet names he calls Sam and me." Dean answered without looking up and you hummed.

"Oh... Well yeah. Your little 'Moose' and the angel I assume had the idea to find me." You replied to the other demon.

"Now, why the Hell were you looking for me? You already got Dean into this mess with Cain, you even got him involved with the First Blade."

"I told you, I needed some assistance. Wanting some information on the blade and see what you knew about it when it effects the humans. I may or may not have been planning to tell you where the blade was, send you to the Winchesters so you could reclaim the blade."

"Oh yay, love a good betrayal." You rolled your eyes. "But we're sort of set on killing Metatron if you couldn't tell."

"Yes, of course. I can see that." The King said before he tilted his head a little, "Although I have wondered, why have you decided to go into hiding like your father. Especially now that your mother is dead. It isn't like her demons will be able to bring you back to Hell so why stay in hiding?"

"Remanences of my teen rebellion I guess. Didn't want to go back because all she wanted me for was to kill Cain with the First Blade. Never did, obviously. Never went back because I didn't want to care enough to go back. If I wanted to torture demons or other souls for the hell of it, I could summon demons, angels, I can hunt monsters or whatever I want to. I've stayed away from humans because well, their disappearances draw too much attention." You said and you smirked for a moment.

"Although, killing you next might be fun since the hunter's got the claim on Metatron."

"Well anyway, what about you, Dean? Is this what you and Sam do all the time? Just go to bars and search for cases? Maybe partake in the local... entertainment?"

You saw Dean glare at the other demon over the laptop.

"Don't you ever wonder if there's more than just this?" Crowley looked back at Dean and he shrugged a little, "I kicked the human blood."

"Oh so you're back to being a full metal douche, huh? You want a teddy bear or a cookie?"

"Just trying to make conversation, Squirrel."

"How's Hell, Crowley?" He asked and looked at the King of the underworld, clearly not genuinely giving a crap about whatever the answer would be.

"Hell's fine... Like a Swiss watch. Don't worry about it."

Then there were a few seconds of silence where Dean looked at Crowley with a skeptical look on his face and you lifted a brow slightly.

"Hell's complicated."

"No no no, Game of Thrones is complicated. Hell's not complicated. Shower sex, not that's complicated, don't get me started, but Hell? No, that's not complicated. The only problem Hell has is you."

You were caught up with the line about human blood. Demons could take human blood? How did it effect a demon?

"Wait, demons can be injected with human blood? How the hell does that work" You asked, interrupting their conversation.

"Same as injecting heroine really. It acts like a drug. You can cure a demon and when my brother was on a task to close the gates of Hell he had to do some trials and one of them was to cure a demon." Dean answered and you looked at the hunter with surprise.

Curing a demon? That was something you had never heard of and that idea was... interesting in a way. You weren't sure if you wanted to test that on yourself but the idea made you curious.

Anyway, while Dean and Crowley talked about what was going on with Metatron and Dean's plans, other demons came along and you lifted a brow when they brought a phone to Crowley.

"Well, now... looks like your angel has gone viral." The King of Hell said and he handed the phone over to Dean.

You scooted your chair over and leaned in so you could see the video, and there he was. That toad-faced bastard was on YouTube and evidently a woman almost died. Or maybe she was dead. Then Metatron came and healed her and he whispered something in the woman's ear. When someone asked who he was, he gave Marv as his name.

When the video was done you put your chair back where it was, "What the hell kind of a name is Marv?" You asked and leaned back against the chair, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You think this is funny?" Dean asked you, but you brushed him off.

"This was taken a few hours ago in Indiana." Crowley interrupted and that was when Dean shut the laptop and started to get up.

"Woah woah woah, you aren't going to eat your food?" Crowley asked. You watched Dean toss a couple of dollars on the table.

"Not hungry."

You watched Dean leave the bar and you sighed a little before you got off the chair but then you felt a hand on your arm. You turned while Crowley looked at you.

"Why are you insistent on staying? You know you can't help the lad. You could leave now and no one could blame you. You and I both know you don't care enough of this whole mess to kill Metatron with the blade, so it is still Dean's quest. So why stay if you can't give him any advice on the mark after all?"

You looked at the short, balding demon, "I don't owe you any kind of explanation for what I do."

You shrugged your arm away and the two of you went to follow Dean and you climbed into the passenger's seat.

He did give you a little food for thought, though.

Why did you decide to stay? He was right, you gave Dean the necessary information he could get for his progression with the mark. The brothers were a little too late in finding you to prevent his condition from getting worse, so you could have left forever ago.

Somewhere down the line, Crowley was able to locate where the woman in the YouTube video lived. So now the three of you were riding along in Dean's car to that location.

You glanced over at Dean since you were in the passenger's seat beside him. You felt something strange towards him and it wasn't because of the mark. It was something in your chest but it wasn't making you happy. It was sort of making you feel some sort of pity for this man.

What would happen if he failed? He would never be the same again. He would lose everything now that he was on this path. You wondered if that was why he was set on following through with this without Sam.

The thought of all of this was honestly making you ache and you forced yourself to look away and you looked through the windshield.

Dean could feel your gaze on him and he didn't like whatever feeling it was giving him that went along with your look. He didn't like feeling pitied by demons. Especially not one like you.

He couldn't wait to get this thing with Metatron over with. But he knew the potential cost of this thing. He knew that this wouldn't be easy, and he knew that his little brother may hate him for this.

He didn't expect for his brother to bring him back.. not this time. Not after all the lies Dean told Sam about Gadreel in the past. Not after all the arguments they've been having lately. Not after trying to bring Sam back when he wasn't ready to come back.

There were times, rare moments but enough to make Dean wonder, if Dean should have even made Sam help him look for their father all those years ago.

Sam was going to college, he had a life lined up for him. Dean knew that he messed it all up by going to get Sam that day. But he didn't want to do this alone. He knew that he probably would not have lived this long if it wasn't for Sammy.

Dean looked at you for a moment while you were seemingly focused on the road ahead of them and he noticed your brows seemed to be knitted together. Could you be worried about something? What did someone like you have to be worried about.

The hunter's jaw tensed before he looked out of the windshield again before he reached beside him and held one of your hands.

He'd noticed that whenever you two had touched hands it brought calm for him and he wondered if you could feel that way too.

"Look... I'm sorry you got roped into all this thanks to Sam. Nobody asked you to stay but... thanks for sticking around anyway."

He could tell with his peripheral vision that you looked at him yet again. Then he could feel you clasp his hand with the one he was already holding.

"It's not like I had anywhere else to be. Besides, Metatron sounds like a dick-bag and I want to see how this ends." He heard you say, causing him to grin a little. it had been a while since he had been able to grin or smile. It was a nice change, even if it would be short lived.

He didn't know what was going on with him, but was it wrong to feel this way for a demon? Maybe it was just the mark and the fact that you had one too. Maybe it was the fact that only you could truly understand what he was going through and you've been the only one outside of the blade to make him feel steady.

He was sure as Hell that this wasn't anything like love. Just an infatuation he supposed. An interest that would go nowhere, especially with a demon. He got enough shit from even working with Crowley.

He gave your hand a slight squeeze before letting go and he placed his hand on the wheel again, focusing on the road.

Finally, Dean pulled up to the trailer where their new lead lived but unfortunately he saw Sam there undoubtedly waiting for them.

Dean stepped out of the car and for some reason, Crowley did too.

"Well, it doesn't take demons to follow a lead. Remember? We used to be pretty good without them." Sam said, causing Dean to scowl again.

"If this is some kind of intervention again, Sammy, you know it's not gonna work. I know what i have to do and you aren't going to stop me whether I like it or not."

"Alright, alright. I know you don't want to be stopped or you think you can't be stopped or whatever. But did you really have to summon Crowley for all this? You're better than that, Dean, and you know that."

"He wasn't the one that was trying to lock me up! Or did you already forget about that? I swear the hair product shit you use must be doing something with that memory of yours."

"Um, hello! Can you guys stop the bickering or five seconds so we can focus here?!" Both the boys heard you shout from the other side of the car and Sam sighed.

"Look, I know that our options are limited, Dean. And, and I know that you're our best shot." Sam began, trying to be open minded and see if Dean was willing to cooperate with him.

"You wanna know what Metatron said to the lady in the video right?" Dean nodded, "I'll tell you but we have to get one thing straight. You and I are in this together, no more running off with the King of Hell."

"Ouch, I'm right here, Moose." Crowley piped up and Dean looked over at the demon, then back at his brother.

Dean turned around and looked at Crowley and he put his hands in the pockets of his jacket and told Crowley rather bluntly, "Look, Crowley, you once told me that you were tired of being on this hamster wheel. So this is your ticket off."

When you saw the look on Crowley's face, he seemed almost hurt in a way.

"Ahh... I see. I suppose I've been Winchester'd." He said and the King looked at you.

"Don't get overly attached to these two. They'll use you up and spit you out. they're worse than the demons I command." He warned you, then with the snap of a finger he was gone.

You looked from where Crowley was standing to the two boys. Then you looked at Dean. He took a step towards you and you clenched your jaw before shutting the door.

"Don't bother contradicting what he said, Dean." You said, you could see him freeze in his tracks.

"Y/N, it's not like that. Crowley's been an eternal pain in the ass since we met the guy and he's been on out hit list for years." Dean began and you interrupted him.

"Oh so if I prove not to be useful, I'll be next? Not that fighting a Winchester doesn't sound interesting, especially since I know I'd win even without the blade, but now it doesn't even seem worth the effort anymore." You said.

"You said yourself, I didn't have to stay. Honestly I don't know why I did."

"Y/N, wait-" Sam called out but by the time he could try to intervene and both the boys walked over to try and talk to you.

Your eyes glowed red and you held out your hand, causing them to freeze in their tracks and cringe with pain. Seeing them in pain was exhilarating for you. The deepest and darkest part of you was even enjoying this because it had been so long since you had brought pain to humans. Their lives were in your hands in that very moment.

However, you knew that their task was important. You knew that is was so you released them from your grasp.

"Don't look for me. Either of you."

After those words, you were gone.

Dean had remained quiet the entire drive to the next known location of Metatron. Sam had filled him in on Castiel and Gadreel's plan in Heaven and that they needed him to simply stall. That he thought he'd be able to do. Then his mind drifted.

He was replaying that afternoon's events over and over again, wondering how they could have been different.

He barely had the chance to explain that he wanted you to stay. Judging by the way Sam tried to step in, he may have wanted you to stay too. He couldn't deny that he and his brother did have a reputation of using demons. But they used humans just as much!

"You alright?" Dean heard his brother ask.

He lifted a brow and glanced at Sam for a moment before looking at the road again.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean about Y/N." Sam began.

"I mean, I know that you've been on edge lately before she came around, and you were still on edge even after she came around but... You sort of seemed to have some kind of level headed moments. Even if you didn't kill Tessa."

Dean was stunned that Sam was talking about Tessa again, even more shocked that he seemed to finally believe that he didn't kill Tessa after all.

"It's a part of life, Sam. People come and go. I'll be fine." Dean said.

"You will be, but you aren't right now. What if we found some way to track her like you and Crowley did with Cain?" Sam suggested and Dean gripped his steering wheel.

"Will you just drop it already!? You and Cass were the ones that brought her into our lives in the first place! We've already pissed her off and I'm not going to have her kill us just because she left and we looked for her when she told us to stay away."

When Sam went quiet, Dean sighed before speaking again.

"Let's just focus on killing Metatron. Then.. if you want to go looking for Y/N again, then fine." He compromised.

The truth was, though, he wasn't sure if he'd live long enough to go looking for Y/N. If this mark was going to kill him, he knew that Metatron had to be the priority. He didn't know how much longer he had left even if he wanted to look for you.

Soon enough, Sam and Dean pulled up to the location and they got out of the car.

When the brothers made their way to the trunk, Dean opened it up and he thought about it for a moment while he stared at the tools and weapons.

"Listen Sam... about these past few months.."

"I know... It's been a lot, but we're okay." Sam reassured, knowing his big brother had never been fond of chick-flick moments. Then Sam took the First blade and he handed it to Dean.

"Now before we find some other thing to fight about, you ready to fight this son of a bitch?" Before Sam could get an answer, all he saw was black.

Dean watched his brother fall and he lowered his arm after knocking his brother out.

"Sorry, Sammy... this isn't your fight."

You had been following the Impala for the last several hours.

Yes you were still hurt at the idea that maybe one day they'd only use you up like they did Crowley, but you meant what you told Dean in the car. You wanted to see how this ends and you wanted to see Metatron dead just as much as they did.

You watched over Dean as he walked through the alley full of the homeless people Metatron was trying to impress. You still thought Marv was a stupid name.

You watched Dean finally find Metatron and you could feel what Dean was feeling. You could feel the anticipation the mark was giving him and the urge to slit his throat there. He didn't look like a difficult target.

Dean and Metatron were down there trash talking since you were upstairs watching below. You couldn't really hear what the two were saying but whatever it was, you could tell that this guy was getting on Dean's last nerve.

You could hear snippets of Dean and Metatron going back and forth about how Metatron was nothing but a fake, something about God not truly caring enough for humanity but Metatron knew every human's name. There was something about Dean commenting about Metatron having his name on every bumper sticker and replacing God's name in the Bible. then there was something about Metatron asking Dean of he could blame him for some kind of recognition.

You could tell how angry that made Dean when he started blaming Metatron for different deaths of who you presumed were Dean's friends. One name stuck out to you, Kevin. You had heard something about a prophet dying, a kid at that.

"Come on, Dean... You can do this..." You whispered to yourself and that was when you saw a fight finally start and you winced when you saw Metatron practically fling Dean around like a ragdoll.

You sighed and you sat down while you watched, hoping Dean would get a grip. He did for a while but when the close combat started, you were getting worried.

You could hear Sam in the distance looking for Dean and you knew this wouldn't be good. Any kind of distraction could be fatal right now especially if it was his brother.

"Don't focus on that, Dean. Focus on the fight!" You said, more to yourself so you wouldn't distract him.

But from what you could see, dean was getting beat up pretty bad and your heart was racing. That worry was back and you head that you were worrying for a human but you couldn't help it. You wanted to do something. Anything, if you could.

This couldn't be happening. Things couldn't end for the hunter this way. Dean still had so much he could do, so much he needed to do. Sam still needed him and even you could see that.

You teleported down and saw the fight up close. Dean was leaning up against a large Conex box used for storage on ships or trains. He was beaten and bloody and he was holding out his hand for the blade.

By the time he got the blade, Metatron was standing over him.

"Dean!" You cried out but it was too late.

Metatron stabbed Dean with the angel blade and Sam was already running over to see if Dean was okay.

While you watched Sam run to his brother, you felt something on the inside of you bubbling up. The familiar rage and the burning in your arm returned.

You held out your hand and the First Blade was snatched from Dean's hand into your own.

The moment you held that blade in your hand again, you felt its power surging through you once again. You had almost forgotten what it was like to hold the magnificent weapon.

"Y/N! Don't!" You could hear Dean calling you but you didn't care to hear it as you teleported in front of Metatron, grabbing him by the collar.

"A pathetic, sorry excuse, for a low class Angel. I've fought archangels mightier than you." You seethed and Metatron laughed.

"Wow.. not only is there an angel I know that loves humanity... but am I gathering the fact that a demon loves humanity too? What are the odds of that?" You could hear the angel speak and your eyes went red.

You used the blade and stabbed Metatron in the abdomen, in a spot where he wouldn't die quickly. But he'd die slowly, painfully and he would be able to feel the life exiting his body.

Besides, Castiel ran into you when you left the boys and you knew they needed this scum bag alive. That was the only reason you didn't kill him outright. If they wanted to heal him, they could.

You could feel the ground beneath you beginning to shake and you looked around.

"The tablet..." You could hear Metatron speak and he disappeared. You assumed it was to Heaven but you ran back to Sam and Dean.

You saw from a distance that Sam was carrying Dean.

"Come one, we need to get you to a hospital." You could faintly hear Sam say. You wanted to know what they were saying clearer so you stepped closer and hid behind a corner.

"No, it's better this way... This mark... i-it's turning me into something I don't wanna be..." You heard Dean speak and you could feel something inside of you beginning to break.

"I have to say something.. It's important." You could hear Dean say as he was holding onto his brother.

Sam carefully set Dean down so he could speak. Sam must've known Dean was losing a lot of strength and a lot of blood.

"I'm proud of us..."

You could tell those were Dean's last words to Sam as he fell onto Sam's shoulder. Sam sat him up and cupped his face and you could hear him call out Dean's name a few times as if to try and wake him up but it was too late...

Watching Sam mourn and hold his brother woke up something in you.

The bond that the brothers had was unbreakable. You've never witnessed something like this up close and seeing someone mourn the death of a loved one like this... You didn't know how humans could do it. It had to take some kind of strength. You knew you didn't have what it took to be a human, but you could finally say you understood why the brothers do what they do. You see why they care and you can see why they love...

You wanted so badly to walk over and say something to Sam, but you didn't know what you should say.

So... into the shadows you returned, leaving the blade behind and abandoning it despite the urge to bring it along with you.

Sam had placed Dean's dead body onto his mattress since they had returned to the bunker. Little did Sam know what the future would hold.

For in that very moment, the mark was beginning to transform Dean. He was in some sort of interval between life and death. The mark wouldn't let go so easily.

Dean's soul was starting to become more and more corrupted because of the mark and yet he felt like he was in some kind of void.

"Your brother, bless is soul... is in the process of summoning me to bring you back." Dean could almost hear a familiar voice. He knew it was Crowley and even the thought of him being close to his dead body was made him feel sick.

"The whole making a deal to bring you back thing. It's so expected, part of the same dance routine. Predictable and rather worn I should say."

Why couldn't Dean move? He could hear Crowley speaking to him about his brother and for some reason, he was starting to care less and less about what his brother was doing in that moment. Why was that happening to him? He wanted to stay with his brother but the other half of him couldn't care less if he was mourning.

"It doesn't matter if he wants to bring you back, Dean. It won't matter to anyone if you still have your humanity."

There was a second voice in his head and it sounded like himself, but Dean wasn't speaking. Another being came into Dean's view and it was an image of himself with the blackened eyes of a demon.

"Let go of that humanity. Live for yourself and chase your heart's desires. Chase them no matter how ugly and warped those desires may be." The demon was beginning to tell him.

When the comment of deep, dark and ugly desires were mentioned, Dean could feel his heart swell at the thought of killing anyone and everything - but he wouldn't be alone. His desire was to have you there by his side. The one woman who could even start to fathom what this hell has been like for him. You could share that together.

His desire was to slaughter millions together. Even if something like that was so incredibly wrong.

"You have to believe me when I say I didn't know this would happen, Dean. It's important that you know that when I told you to take on the Mark of Cain I didn't know this would happen. Not really. But perhaps I didn't tell you everything..."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Dean just wanted to die before he could turn into whatever was standing right in front of him. He didn't want to be a demon. He didn't want to be a killer, but everything inside of him was craving that darkness, let himself indulge in those desires.

"I never lied, Dean. It's fundamental that you know that. But this story.. I may have forgotten to tell you..."

"Evidently, Cain was even willing to accept death rather than turn into the killing machine that the mark wanted him to be. So, he used the First Blade on himself. But.. the mark never quite let go."

Dean was listening to this and he looked back at the demon version of himself who was smiling wickedly.

"I know, interesting isn't it? Just the fact that even Cain was in the same position you are in now? That's pretty impressive that you could be in the same shoes as the Father of Murder himself." The demon laughed, making Dean's stomach churn.

"I didn't tell you about this because well, why get excited over something that may or may not even be true? A waste of time to get excited over speculation."

"It wasn't until you summoned me and I saw your current state, wasn't until I realized you wouldn't even eat a cheeseburger that I decided... what if I gave believing a shot? Maybe miracles really do come true."

Dean looked down at his hands. If Cain couldn't defeat this, why should he fight the inevitable? He had been doing it all his life, fighting for Free Will but this... This was different. And he was so tired of fighting..

When Dean looked up at the demon version of himself, he was offering out a hand, "Come on.. what do you say? Give up being human and have a taste of real freedom."

Then Dean felt something else in his hand. It was the First Blade and he looked at it. When did they get this? Last he remembered, you had taken it. Where did Crowley get it.

Either way, he was feeling more alive in that moment than he had felt in years.

"Listen to me, Dean. What you're feeling right now? It's not death... it's life. A new kind of life..."

Dean looked at the demon and he had already had Dean's hand clasped, mark to mark. "It's go time Baby."

"Open your eyes, Dean. See what I see... Feel what I feel. And let's go take a howl at that moon."

The next thing Dean knew he could finally open his blackened, demonic eyes and embrace the demon he finally became.

Thank you guys so much for reading so far! I'm so glad you all have stayed up until this point and I hope you're enjoying where the story is going. Tell me what you think will happen next!

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @johannelis2302nely @justtrying2getby-blog @alternativeprincess94 @doctorlexilouwhosblog

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alex51324 · 1 year ago

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Little snippet of a GO Fic

Not sure if this is anything? It started with the image of if Crowley called the Metatron's bluff re: restoring his angelic status, and then he's just up there wandering around Heaven in full demon mode, and everyone's too polite and/or scared to point out that they can tell he's not actually an angel.

Then I started thinking about plot, and it's not as funny as I was thinking it was going to be. Like I said, not sure if it's going to be anything, but the opening scene turned out OK. I'll be interested to hear if anyone has thoughts on where it could go from here.

Standing by the car, torturing himself with hope, Crowley watched the Metatron lead his only friend away. The Metatron was explaining something to him, false-genially, and even from across the street, Crowley could see the moment when Aziraphale understood what he was being summoned back to Heaven to do.

The Metaton stepped into the Transporter, and Aziraphale, who had been pointedly looking nowhere near where Crowley stood, now turned, at the threshold, and looked sidelong at him, pleadingly.

He looked very small, and very alone, and before he could think better of it—before he could think at all—Crowley had pushed off the side of the Bentley and was crossing the street, calling, “Oi, Angel. Wait up.”

Aziraphale turned to look at him more directly. Crowley could see him take a deep breath, the kind that shuddered in your lungs. “Yes, Crowley?” His voice was steadier than Crowley thought his own would be, in the circumstances.

“Are you.” Crowley swallowed hard. “Are you sure you want to do this? Really sure?”

Aziraphale glanced in toward the Metatron. Crowley kept his eyes focused on Aziraphale’s face--he didn’t care to know what kind of expression the blessed bastard was making—and saw the glint of steel shining out from the cloud of doubt and reluctance. “I have to,” he said, which wasn’t what Crowley had asked. “It’s where I need to be.”

Of course it was. Aziraphale hadn’t even entertained the notion of running away last time. Crowley wasn’t sure if his angel was once again thinking—hoping—that he could just explain it properly and the rest of Heaven would see the world was a mistake.

But even if he’d learned from last time, he’d still think he had to give them the chance. Even if they threw him in Hellfire for it.

“Right, then,” Crowley said, turning his face toward the Metatron—still without looking—and flashing a brilliant smile at him. “If you’re that certain, then we’d better give it a try.”

Aziraphale’s face softened and his eyes widened. “You mean…?”

Crowley nodded. “You, me, Heaven. Doing Good.”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his hands coming up to clutch at Crowley’s. “Are you sure? It—” His eyes flicked toward the Metatron. “It could be awfully hard work.”

“Course,” Crowley said, stoutly. Now he did look at the Metatron. “If the offer’s still open.”

The Metatron’s face was very still. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again when Aziraphale said, “Of course it is, you dear old—” He giggled, shrilly. “Dear old angel, I should say.”

“That’ll take some getting used to,” Crowley said, stalling for a bit more time to get up the nerve to step into the elevator to Heaven, for the second time in as many days.

“Perhaps,” the Metatron spoke up, “you have affairs to settle here on Earth, before you, ah, assume your new role? Your,” he looked over at the Bentley, “material possessions?”

“Nah,” Crowley said, taking that crucial step. “I’ll pop down sometime later and sort that out. I’m sure we have loads to do up there. Don’t want to miss anything.” He turned to face the lift doors, shoving himself in between Aziraphale and the Metatron. Then, before he could chicken out, he reached across the Metatron and pushed the button for Up.

As the doors closed, Aziraphale looked toward him, and gave him the faintest trace of a real smile.

Crowley checked the angles of view and carefully, where the Metatron wouldn’t see, tangled their fingers together.

The ride seemed to take much longer than it had when he’d ridden up with Muriel before. The doors opened onto the same featureless not-space he’d seen in his most recent two visits to Heaven, but it didn’t seem quite as awful, somehow, with Aziraphale’s hand in his.

He would have let go, when he saw Michael, Uriel, and Saraqael there waiting just outside the doors, but Aziraphale clutched his hand all the harder.

It helped, a little, that the trio of archangels looked at least as nervous as Crowley felt.

The Metatron glanced at the two of them. “Would you, ah, like to make the announcement yourself?”

Aziraphale, with his free hand, made an after you gesture.

“Very well.” Turning to the archangels—the other archangels, of the second rank—the Metatron said, “I’m sure you’ll be as glad to hear, as I am to say, that Aziraphale, here, has accepted the position of Supreme Archangel and Commander of the Heavenly Host.”

They were all too well-conditioned by millennia in Heaven to say What the fuck?, but Crowley could see them thinking it. Uriel recovered first, and said, in a strangled voice, “Congratulations, Aziraphale.”

“He’ll need to be brought up to speed on the Next Phase,” the Metatron continued. “I’ve read him in on the basics, of course, but the rest of you can brief him on all the details, I’m sure.”

The archangels fell all over each other to say that yes, they could, certainly, whatever the Metatron wished. Michael, with a nervous flick of a glance at Crowley, added, “Although the plans so far hadn’t included any…close liaising with Downstairs.”

Crowley affected an air of innocence and waited to see how the Metatron was going to deal with that one.

Not very well, as it turned out. “Ah, yes,” he said, and then seemed to run out of ideas.

Glancing worriedly around the little circle of them—Crowley, Metatron, archangels, Crowley again—Aziraphale squeezed his hand and said, “Crowley resigned from the Other Firm a few years ago, as it happens.” There was a hint of a question in it, and he looked imploringly at the Metatron.

“Yes,” Crowley said, looking at him also. “I’ve been freelancing for a bit. Consulting. But apparently the Supreme Archangel has broad latitude to choose his second-in-command, so….”

Saraqael blurted out, “You can’t mean—” and then abruptly shut up, folding her hands primly.

“I do,” said Aziraphale, just as primly. “Crowley and I have worked together on a number of projects. There is no one I trust more.”

“But he’s—” Uriel began.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, and nobody said what Crowley was. Neither did the Metatron explain how this difficulty would be dealt with. In fact, he began making little I really must be going sort of motions.

If he thought the Metatron had the means to actually grant what he had offered, Crowley would have happily let him avoid the subject as long as possible. But as it was becoming increasingly clear that he hadn’t, Crowley slid the needle in a little further. “Yes, just how is this supposed to work?” “The, ah.” He gestured with his free hand. “Change of status?”

The Metatron looked at him for a moment with intense and open dislike, before the genial mask slipped back into place. “Well, I should think the place to start would be Form 26-B, Change of Rank.” With a gesture of his fingers, the form in question appeared, on a transparent glass desk—or, rather, the idea of a glass desk—that had also appeared in front of them.

Aziraphale picked up the idea-of-a-pen that was next to it, and clicked it. The first line read Name of Angel. “Should I put—” Crowley saw his mouth form the shape of a Name that hadn’t been spoken since the Great War, but the sound that came out was, “Crowley?”

The Metatron said nothing, and Crowley answered, “Anthony J., I should think. Just to be thorough.”

Aziraphale wrote that, and on the line for Previous Rank, put “Hell’s Emissary on Earth, European Division.”

“Technically, I was a Baron of Hell as well,” Crowley added. “Order of the First Fallen, Chapter of the Fiery Lake.”

The relevant section of the form expanded to several lines as Aziraphale filled in this information. “Should you properly be styled Sir Anthony J. Crowley, then?” he asked.

“Eh. I never used it.” It had been a small rebellion; everyone else in Hell made as much as they could of whatever titles they had.

The next line was for New Rank. Crowley eyed it with wary curiosity. His old, old post had never been filled, as far as he knew. He supposed he could bear it, if that was what Aziraphale decided to put.

But instead, Aziraphale wrote, “Special Consultant and Second-in-Command to Supreme Archangel,” and glanced a question over his shoulder at Crowley.

“To Supreme Archangel Aziraphale, I think would sound better,” Crowley suggested. Not that Heaven was likely to try to keep him if Aziraphale left, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

Aziraphale made that change. “There. I think that’s all in order.” He looked round the group with a pointedly pleasant expression, and got no objections. After signing the document in both ink and a blaze of celestial Light, he pushed it toward Crowley and said, “Your signature, there, on the second-to-last line.”

Crowley studied the form carefully. In Hell, even a requisition for lavatory paper involved five paragraphs of small print, but Heaven had never quite caught on to the value of a really twisty contract. All it said was who Crowley was, and the job he was taking. There was no word of it a lie.

Swallowing hard, he took up the pen. Carefully, he wrote, Anthony J. Crowley. Then, with a glance at Aziraphale, he licked his fingertip and signed his demonic sigil in Hellfire.

Absolutely nothing happened. Crowley had known that nothing would, and was definitely not either disappointed or relieved to experience no change whatsoever in his appearance, perceptions, or ontological status.

If Crowley was any judge of Aziraphale’s facial expressions—and, after six millennia, he was—the Supreme Archangel was also not-experiencing the same jumble of feelings.

“Well!” the Metatron said, bringing his hands together in a clap, like a primary-school teacher. “That’s the formalities taken care of. I’m sure you’ll both want to get right to work.”

While the archangels of the second rank were busy exchanging looks of disbelief, Aziraphale said, “Yes, I believe the office is—this way?” They hurried off before anyone could get up the courage to say anything.

#good omens fic #is this anything?#good omens spoilers #go2 spoilers #post-season-2 AU

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crowley-the-1-true-king-of-hell · 2 years ago

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What I love about Metatron is he doesn't wait for Dean's moment to finish. He just stabbed Dean right away. The moment with the blade music playing and Dean trying to summon it to his hand

Also how is Crowley ignoring Sam's summons? God. Sam blames Crowley for everything. Yikes, like have you met your brother, Sam? Nobody forced Dean to take that mark

Sam also has an inability to put himself in other people's shoes. It is painful to watch the main characters have no empathy

Arthur Ketch may be a psychopath, but he actually has empathy. Arthur didn't hold a grudge against them, because he knew Sam & Dean were soldiers on the opposite side of the war. He didn't see it as unfair that Sam and Dean fought back. He didn't get on a high and mighty horse, being offended by his enemies putting up a fight

Empathy is asking yourself, if someone were trying to kill me, and I tried other tactics to get them to stop, and none of those tactics were working, but maybe the tactic of using their loved ones to get them to stop might work? Would I try that tactic or would I just roll over and let them kill me?

I don't even blame Abaddon for fighting back! Was it her fault she got herself into that mess? Sure. But self-defence is literally a normal reaction. I'm glad she lost, but I don't blame her for trying to kill Dean. Not everything she did was understandable [ the same goes for Crowley ] but some things, like telekinetically putting Dean into a wall were. Like okay yeah you got yourself into this mess but it would be irrational if you just sat there and let yourself get killed

Arthur Ketch understood that, and that's why he told Sam and Dean "we were soldiers on opposite sides of a war"

I love the villains because as Crowley said to Castiel "I know what I am"

I love the villains because they don't take it personally when their opponents use whatever means necessary to try and beat them

The only time Crowley got upset about Sam and Dean trying to cure him and imprisoning him

I wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for you two. You shoot me up. You make me a junkie. You keep me stashed away for months while my kingdom falls apart?!

was because he was trying to get out of the dungeon. He was hoping to make them feel pity, so that they would let him sit in the sitting room with them rather than in the dungeon. Obviously it worked

But if Crowley used his demon blood to turn Sam or Dean into a demon. Like if there was a demon equivalent of the demon to human cure? But Crowley wasn't able to finish just like Sam didn't finish? Sam would absolutely rant at Crowley for trying to turn him into a demon. Sam would rant just because he's mad

Crowley only got mad and complained about them injecting him with human blood, because he was trying to get out of the dungeon. He doesn't go around ranting about his enemies fighting him just for the sake of ranting

Sam and Dean were fighting back, by trying to shut the gates, against the demons who are making demon deals to lure people to Hell or just killing and torturing humans just because. Before human blood Crowley was making those deals too, so I get why Sam and Dean were trying to stop that and I also get why Crowley was fighting back against their fighting back

Crowley hated that they were trying to kill and lock him away, but he didn't take it personally, because he understood that if positions were reversed, he would have done the same

When he did rant about it in 9x16, it's not because he was actually *that* upset about it. He just wanted to be out of the dungeon and hoped that complaining would get them to think "ugh fine then you can sit in the sitting room with us 🙄"

The villains or the antagonist are the least likely to be hypocritical

It's why I love them

#crowley spn #dean critical #sam critical #metatron #spn 9x16 #arthur ketch #abaddon spn #supernatural

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kaesaaurelia · 1 year ago

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cut and run

For @whumptober day 30, using the prompt “bridal carry.”

This is the last installment of this fic.

Continued from Day 6, wherein something is puppeting Aziraphale, and Crowley is being tortured, Day 9, wherein Crowley had come to the conclusion that no, that is almost certainly not Aziraphale, Day 11, wherein Crowley explained to not-Aziraphale why he was not Aziraphale, and unfortunately gave not-Aziraphale some ideas, Day 18, wherein not-Aziraphale acted on those ideas, Day 22, when Aziraphale knocked the culprit out of his body and released a torrent of miraculous energy with Crowley’s help, and Day 25, when Aziraphale nearly chose violence, but ended up grabbing Crowley and fleeing instead of killing the person who'd caused all the trouble in the first place.

Content note for minor and somewhat oblique references to past torture, but please do mind the warnings in the individual parts if you want to backread this fic, as there was much more to warn for in prior installments.

Heaven was not prepared for the sight of the Supreme Archangel fleeing with a broken demon in his arms; several angels stopped and watched him, but none went after him until the alarms started blaring half a second later.

Aziraphale, contemplating blasphemy, glanced over his shoulder and saw the Metatron stumbling out of the private space he'd made into an interrogation room. "Stop him, you idiots," shouted the Metatron.

"But he's the Supreme Archangel," said a confused angel, but Aziraphale found himself cut off from the exit by several others.

"He only got himself appointed so he and that demon could steal Heavenly artifacts," said the Metatron. Had Aziraphale not been carrying a wounded Crowley, he would have just barreled through the angels blocking his way; they were armed only with paperwork.

"But he's the Supreme Archangel," said another angel.

"Check the security records, you'll see them going into the vaults," said the Metatron.

Oh, for Heaven's -- well, no. For Earth's sake, Aziraphale supposed. He turned to the crowd listening to the Metatron. "You certainly will," said Aziraphale, "but if you keep watching, you'll see me leading Crowley right back out of the vaults, incapacitated, and --" He spotted the Throne who'd been helping "Aziraphale" interrogate Crowley. "You! Mitzrael, was it?" She looked startled. "You helped me capture him! Or, you thought you did, anyway."

The angels turned to look at her, and Aziraphale began backing towards the lifts while the crowd was otherwise occupied. "I thought I did?" she asked.

The Metatron wasn't having any of it. Aziraphale hoped he regretted mentioning the security tapes. "Don't listen to his nonsense, just --"

"No, but I did do that, I didn't just think I did, I've been -- we've all been helping interrogate the demon, and -- but why are you leaving?" she asked. Damn it. Aziraphale had only just managed to fumblingly press the button to summon the lift -- it had been tricky, holding Crowley -- but presumably everybody's attention was solidly back on him again. He turned back around.

"So sorry, it's just been an awful case of mistaken identity," said Aziraphale. "You see, the Metatron has been dabbling in possession. Of me, specifically. By the way, if he offers you the job of Supreme Archangel, I don't advise you to take it. I'm resigning," he added brightly. The lift dinged open and he stepped backwards, then hurried to press the button for Earth.

Several angels tried to pile in after him but Aziraphale managed to open his wings and shove them all out, although doubtless he'd made a dreadful mess of his feathers in doing so. He jabbed the close doors button frantically.

"'Ss no usse," Crowley muttered. "Those're one of ours. They don't work."

"Don't be ridiculous, they're one of ours," said Aziraphale. He stomped viciously on another angel's foot as they tried to get in, and the doors finally closed. "They're on a delay is all. Usually I can cut it short." He slumped against the wall. "They're going to come after us," he said.

"Usss?" Crowley asked. "Is there an usss, Aziraphale?" Aziraphale looked down at him, and he looked absolutely awful. His glasses had been one of the first fatalities of the torture, of course, and Aziraphale supposed he ought to give him that dignity back, now it was possible. It had nothing to do with how accusing Crowley's eyes were. All that came through perfectly well in his tone.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I would have liked there to be. I would have... I thought I could do something about it all," he said, angry and feeling so exhausted for someone who didn't need sleep.

"Well, I wouldn't ssay that," said Crowley. "You musst've done ssomething or they wouldn't have come all the way to Earth to find me and torture uss over it."

Aziraphale sighed. "I was going to leave, you know. I just wanted to stay on a bit longer and throw a few more wrenches into the works. You were right about them," he admitted.

"Obvioussly."

"But you were right about them destroying the Earth, too," he added, "and -- and I couldn't have that. No more fascinating little restaurants where they know you, as you said."

Crowley acknowledged this with a wordless grumble.

"No more infuriating human devices that create more problems than they solve, either," said Aziraphale. "Or spy films that end with great big explosions that make very little narrative sense, or vintage cars, or any of that popular music you're fond of. Well, there might be some of that 'contemporary worship music' stuff."

"That'ss not music," Crowley snarled, too irritated now to keep sulking in silence.

Having won Crowley's acknowledgment, Aziraphale was not certain how to continue, so he let the silence build until the lift doors opened once more. Thankfully, the Bentley was just where Crowley had left it when he'd followed "Aziraphale" up to Heaven, and it was never locked for Aziraphale, so he carefully helped Crowley into the passenger seat. "I'll heal you when we're farther away," he said apologetically.

Crowley nodded. Aziraphale didn't know if it was wishful thinking or not that he got the feeling of approval as he made the car go as fast as it ever had, but neither of them said much of anything until they'd got out of central London. (Which was probably good, because Aziraphale didn't want to hit anybody, even if he was going much too fast.)

Eventually, though, Crowley cleared his throat. "You called me your beloved."

Aziraphale took a shaky breath. "I suppose I did."

The silence returned.

"It's because you are," said Aziraphale. "My... my beloved."

"Is thisss a ssort of... loving all of God'ss creatures, even the miserable and lowly --"

"No," admitted Aziraphale, feeling rather miserable and lowly himself. "Oh, Crowley, I'm so sorry, I didn't know he would -- I would never have thought about it if I'd known you'd end up -- that he'd -- that anyone would touch you." There was a distant roll of thunder. "Like that, I mean. In -- in order to --"

"Angel, that'ss not what I was asking," said Crowley, sighing. Angel. Such exasperation in the term. Aziraphale liked to think it was fond, sometimes, but. "I did kisss you, you know. You forgave me for it."

Aziraphale swallowed. "Well. That was. Not one of my better moments."

"Not one of mine, either," Crowley admitted.

Aziraphale turned to look at him, satisfied that the road ahead was clear enough that he could let the Bentley drive itself for a bit. "Would you ever consider..." He stopped.

"What?" Crowley asked.

"I mean, not right now, obviously," said Aziraphale. "Certainly not now. You must be so angry with me. And in such pain. And --"

"I mean, yeah, I've had entirely too many bones broken, but what are you on about?" Crowley asked.

"Well. When you kissed me -- you said -- I thought maybe... you were talking about Gabriel and Beelzebub, and."

"I'm not going to run off with you to Alpha Centauri, if that'ss what you're asking," said Crowley.

"I don't want to go to Alpha Centauri," said Aziraphale, feeling a bit exasperated. "Does it look like we're going to Alpha Centauri?" Not that he knew how to get there. Presumably Crowley did.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Crowley asked.

"Ah. Well. Hmm. There was a bit of a mixup with the timing of the Second Coming," said Aziraphale. "It seems they sent him out a bit early. And forgot where exactly they sent him to." He was actually quite pleased with himself about this.

"Of courssse they were doing the Ssecond Coming," said Crowley, disgusted. "What do you mean, they sent him out early? You mean Jesus?"

"I do," said Aziraphale. "I thought, you know, he might like to know what the Earth was like now. Before he, er, came back officially and all that apocalypse nonsense started up again. They were going to send him to America, Crowley," he said, appalled. "America."

"Makess sensse," said Crowley.

"Why is it always America?" Aziraphale demanded.

"Bigger budgetss? Better CGI?" Crowley suggested. Aziraphale didn't know what that was. "Where did you send him?"

"Well, as I told the transportation technicians when they were arguing with me about America, God was always very fond of Wales." Aziraphale grinned to himself. "If they somehow remember it through the memory wipe I did, all they'll remember is an indubitably factual statement about cetaceans."

Crowley's sigh was pained.

"Well, I thought it was clever," said Aziraphale. He swallowed. "Look, I think we're far enough away, I can heal you up now; I can take a train the rest of the way there. I do like trains." He began to pull over.

"Nah. Don't think that workss for me," said Crowley.

"Oh," said Aziraphale, his heart sinking. He didn't know what else he could do to make things up to Crowley, who clearly didn't want anything more to do with him. But here they were; he'd stopped the car to do the healing. "Look, I... I do still have to heal you," said Aziraphale, "and that means I've got to touch you, so I'm very sorry about that. Where would you like me to start?"

"My face, I guesss," said Crowley, not looking very happy about it.

"I'll have to take your glasses off again, if that's --"

"Yeah. S'fine, angel," said Crowley, although he didn't sound fine about it.

Aziraphale took them off carefully, not looking Crowley in the eye. "I'm so sorry about this," he said again, and began to miracle away the bruising. "I didn't want -- it wasn't -- I do hope someday we can at least -- if, if we both survive --"

"I think you've got the wrong end of the sstick, angel," said Crowley. Aziraphale looked at him. "I'm going with you. Can't imagine leaving my..." He looked away and swallowed. "My beloved to go off and ssave the world all on his own."

"Oh!" said Aziraphale, his heart racing.

"Would kisss you again," said Crowley, "but, you know, I'm a bit -- a bit banged up, and, alsso, lasst time wasn't very --"

Aziraphale leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. Crowley made a noise in the back of his throat and leaned into the kiss a bit. His lips were soft, and when Aziraphale pulled away his eyes were warm and fond. "Better?" Aziraphale asked.

"Better," Crowley agreed.

#whumptober2023 #no.30 #bridal carry #good omens #fic #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #ineffable husbands #text #fiction #kaesa op

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thebadasshistorian · 1 year ago

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“I forgive you.”

Crowley closed his eyes. He held his breath then counted the seconds when he let it out.

What more was there to say?

A great deal more, really.

Ever since the Beginning, there was a running list expanding outwards in his mind of all the things Crowley might say if he ever got the angel alone, away from the universe that he had both made and been cast out of.

But now, seeing the conflicting emotions on the angel’s face as he summoned the audacity to offer his forgiveness…it was all too much.

Crowley once again felt his blood boiling at the thought of Heaven— of Gabriel, Beelzebub, Metatron. And Aziraphale.

Even Aziraphale.

But most of all, Crowley was angry with himself. A demon should know better than to allow itself to hope.

He used what little strength he had left to make for the door.

“Don’t bother.”

As the door slammed shut behind him, it occurred to Crowley in some small corner of his mind that he ought to count to ten. He ought to take a deep breath, count, and, if necessary, restart his heart by way of a lightning strike. But he did none of these things.

Instead, he got into his car, and drove.

The days blurred together, after that.

Whilst reshelving Aziraphale’s collection, Muriel happened upon an address book containing the phone number connected to the Bentley. Although they did not fully comprehend the concept of cellular communication, cars, radios, or even an address book, they managed to get through.

It almost made Crowley scowl to hear their jaunty little voice over the radio, inquiring as to when he might return to the bookshop. They seemed so delighted to be speaking on a telephone at all that Crowley regretted the fall of their voice once he replied that he would not, in fact, be returning.

Not in this lifetime, at least.

Only when he reached the coast did he feel his shoulders begin to sink with the realization that it had taken him thousands of years to declare his love for the angel, and less than five minutes for it all to come crumbling down around him.

He should have known.

Demons like to boast of their brokenness. It makes them stronger, they say. More papered for combat than the angels upstairs, who’ve never had to get their hands dirty. They simply ready themselves for war instead, just to have something to do on a Thursday afternoon.

“I thought we’d carved it out for ourselves,” Aziraphale had said mere days before.

“So did I.”

With a sigh, Crowley emerged from the Bentley with his plants in tow.

He booked a room at the Tadfield Inn, and for the first time in years, he collapsed onto a warm bed and promptly fell asleep.

But no place is safe when you’re haunted, and Aziraphale’s face ghosted through each and every one of Crowley’s tortured dreams. The angel flashed in and out of his mind as he had since the Beginning. Sometimes, he was kind. He took Crowley’s hand as he spoke absentmindedly of books and coffee. It was nice.

But most of the time, he said nothing. He just watched Crowley from Heaven’s proverbial high ground. The angel was clad in white and gold, and all his smiles contained an element of pity.

Each time Crowley awoke, he found his face streaked with tears and the hole in his chest wide enough to swallow him whole.

“Crowley.”

The demon blinked awake. The room was still dark. Only moonlight slipped beneath the curtains now

Beside him, someone had switched on a lamp.

“Crowley.”

All at once Crowley registered the hand resting on his shoulder.

“Aziraphale!” He startled awake, shifting away from him on the bed. “What are you doing here?”

Even in the lowlight the angel’s eyes were wide and anxious. He held his hand before him as though he were waiting for Crowley to slip under it once more.

“I had to see you, my dear. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, so I won’t ask for it. But I would be amiss if I didn’t at least try to make you understand why I did what I did.”

“No!”

There were tears in the angel’s eyes and Crowley could feel a fresh wave of pain coming for him as well. He stared at the wall across from him instead, refusing to see the face beside him.

Crowley struggled to the opposite side of the bed, away from where Aziraphale was sitting. “You do not get to do this now. Not when you’re—”

“—When I’m what?”

“One of them.”

A faint smile tugged at Aziraphale’s lips, but it was hollow. “You’ve always called me ‘Angel,’ you know. I’ve been one the entire time. That hasn’t changed.”

“You’ve changed.” Crowley spat. “And you wish I would as well.”

“Do you know what I’ve noticed in our past few thousand years together?”

“What’s that?”

“That I’ll never be able to forget what you were like before. As an angel.”

“You liked me better then, right? Before I was fallen.”

“I like you now,” Aziraphale said, sternly. “I’ve liked you the entire time, Crowley. Angel or demon.”

“Well, what are you on about then?”

Aziraphale took a deep breath. “Only that before…you looked happy. You glowed with it as you painted your thoughts across the heavens. And it was deeply unfair of Heaven to rob you of your joy.”

Crowley was silent as Aziraphale spoke. He glanced over to see that the angel wasn’t looking at him, either. He was looking at his hands.

“I only want you to have what was taken from you, Crowley. Nothing more, nothing less.” Aziraphale sighed. “You deserve so much more than what you’ve been given.”

“I’ve always had what I needed.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes. “I turned them down, you know. Metatron.”

“What?”

Aziraphale faced him directly now. “I thought that I was doing my duty. That if I said yes to him, I could set everything right in Heaven. But now…”

“Now, what?”

Aziraphale sniffed. “Well, I suppose I hadn’t considered that I might have another duty. That I ought to be dutiful to myself, and to you.”

Crowley closed his eyes. He felt at last the stirrings of hope in his chest, but he would not indulge them, this time.

This time, he’d do better than to hope for impossible things.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’d regret, Angel.”

“Me neither,” Aziraphale said, reaching over to take Crowley’s hand in his own. “That’s why I’m here.”

Crowley cleared his throat, willing himself not to fall apart now.

“Can we start the conversation over?” Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley nodded.

Aziraphale hummed, ignoring a stray tear as it slipped softly down his cheek. “Oh, good.”

Crowley squeezed his hand, urging him to continue.

“Do you remember when we met? Back when you were setting stars in motion?”

Crowley sniffed. “‘Course.”

“You were so beautiful, Crowley. The way you saw such wonderful things in your mind and then cast them outward, painting the universe with your brilliant mind.”

“I always wondered…”

“Yes?”

“…I always wondered if you preferred me better that way. As an angel.”

“I did prefer you that way, but not because you were an angel— because you were happy. And I wanted you to have that feeling again. And I know that I can’t change the past; I can’t stop you from falling. But I thought I might be able to give you some semblance of that happiness back.”

“But that’s what you’ve been doing all this time, Angel. By being here.”

Aziraphale let out a shaky laugh. He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and used it to dry his eyes.

“I hate it when you cry,” said Crowley.

“But you’re crying too!”

“No I’m not!”

Aziraphale laughed as he reached his hand to Crowley’s face, dabbing it dry with his sleeve.

“You silly demon.”

Aziraphale finished tending to Crowley’s face, and gazed into the golden eyes he knew so well.

“Would it be alright if I…if we…”

“I wish you would.”

This time, they did things right. There was no final leap of faith before the end— no attempt to prolong a dying moment.

Aziraphale placed a hand to Crowley’s cheek, holding his gaze as Crowley leaned into his hand.

When he brought their lips together at last, it was slow and lingering. Aziraphale pulled Crowley in close, placing a hand over his heart as he kissed him against the white sheets.

“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered over Crowley’s lips. “I’m sorry I took so long to tell you. I never should have let you live in doubt.”

When he pulled away, there were tears in Crowley’s eyes, but there was also a future. Theirs.

Read on Ao3

#good omens s2 #good omens season 2 #good omens season 2 spoilers #good omens s2 spoilers #good omens s2 fix it fic #gomens fix it fic #gomens fic #good omens fic #Aziraphale my beloved #you owe 1 million apologies at least

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heaven-saidx · 15 days ago

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"Wasn't sure this'd still be the kinda gift you'd enjoy, but... here's hoping. Merry Christmas, Gabriel."

Unintended for combat, but perhaps suitable for a coup de gras, the antique executioner's sword bears on one side the engraving: Wan Ich Das Schwert thue Auffheben - So Wünsche Ich Dem Sünder Das Ewige Leben. When I pick up the sword/I wish the sinner eternal life.

On the other: Die Herren steuren Dem Unheil/Ich Exequire Ihr Endt Urteil. The Lords direct the disaster/I execute your final judgement.

The other angel looks uncertain, but hopeful.

"You can always trade it in, if you don't like it. And I can find something else for you."

✞ At first he must have seemed hard to read, he was just silent, running his hand over the gift, especially making note of the engraving. He was searching his memory. But finally he notices their apprehension and reaches out a reassuring hand.

" No, no-- its perfect, brother! I love it! The blade of an executioner... I think I have none like it in my collection at all! " Most of his swords come from fallen warriors-- not many executioners. Though he may have a few guard's axes that's been used for the same task, this flat-tipped blade is new. He wraps around their shoulder and hugs their side with a squeeze and a brotherly pat of comradery, twirling the blade in the other hand. " 'I execute your final judgement'... how befit the hand of God! Thank you brother! " You never know when you need to execute someone, after all...

With his weapon neatly taken into the collection with the others in his light, its his turn to be uncertain. Metatron is a little... unorthodox to get gifts for, but he thought he may be just the right person to have something of interest for someone often in and out of this very universe. He summons it for them i an always neatly wrapped box. It was multiple matching volumes of, quite thick, books.

" These are a copy of my handwritten scriptures, from my personal records, of significant developments throughout Earth and Heaven, foot-noted, in my own words. " He lowers his head then, a hand raising guiltily. You must understand... the amount of courage it takes to show his old notes. Much of it was in Enochian as well, unreadable to anyone but angels. " I- I emphasize-- my own words, so... if a... more youthful me says anything humorous, just know some of these pages are quite old. --But, there is also notes on traditions, the origin of symbols, how to read certain hieroglyphics, I um... " He nervously laughs at himself, but tucks his hands behind his back and bows.

" I hope it is at least interesting. "

#✟ [ 1. ] → { 𝕲𝖆𝖇𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖑. } ⋰⋰ i.c.#yellingmetatron #✟ → { inbox. } ⋰⋰

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coal15 · 1 year ago

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I managed to get Ch.10 of All Roads Lead Back posted yesterday. In this chapter Aziraphale and Crowley learn how Maggie's mum ended up in Heaven's Corrections Department. Here's a short sample:

It was business as usual in Heaven. Gabriel strolling around enjoying how his very presence intimidated the lower Angels. Sometimes he even said hi to one just to watch them stammer out a ‘hello, sir.’ Lower Angels were always a hoot. But then Baxter, a mid level scrivener assigned to the Corrections Department flagged him down, waving a file folder in the air.

“I thought you should know, sir, that apparently one of those little pissant Angles we like to keep out of our way went human back in the 1980s and no one noticed, and now-”

“Who gives a crap?” Gabriel shrugged. “Let them age and die a mortal death, it’s their own fault for choosing well dressed monkeys over their own kind.”

“Oh I agree sir, but this particular human-humper is trying to go Angel again and work a miracle!”

“WHAT?!”

Gabriel summoned the Metatron immediately and the two of them took exactly thirty one and two tenths of a second to absorb the file’s disgusting contents. Not only had this Angel chosen to be human, she actually conceived and birthed one? Gross. How dare she expect grace or favours from Heaven!

Meanwhile on earth, Zoe closed her eyes and drew deep breaths to hold impatience at bay as the familiar power of Heaven soaked into her flesh. The second her grace was fully restored she would work the miracle, then accept whatever came next.

“NO!” A voice she never wanted to hear again barked.

Zoe spun around to see Gabriel marching down the street towards her, imperious as ever. Having been so low on the totem pole as an Angel, she hoped it would take the Higher Angels at least a few minutes to get word of her sin. Enough time to change her family’s fate, at least. But no such luck.

Was this all for nothing? She wondered as her heart sank. “Please Gabriel, please just let me-”

“Silence!” The Supreme Archangel stood an inch away from Zoe’s body with stiff posture, looming over her with the wrath of an angry Heaven at his command. “You clearly do not understand the enormity of your sin, Zoe, so allow me to explain,” he paused to snicker at his choice of words. “Haha, allow me. Yeah, I am going to explain and you are going to listen, like it or not. You did not just choose to go human, Zoe. No, no, you did worse. You procreated. And not even with another former Angel, but an actual earth-born man! The whole thing is beyond blasphemy! I mean, did you even think about what you were doing? Because we both know even a former Angel is still technically a divine being.”

The Supreme Archangel tensed up and shuddered at the word ‘technically.’ It annoyed him to his core that some elements of the previous Almighty’s design remained seemingly unchangeable. Half the reason he and his Higher Angel peers conspired to help the Metatron overthrow that old bat in the first place was so they could take charge. Full charge. But for the time being all he could do was hope eventually they would discover a way. Crack the code to demolish every natural law of Heaven and earth, and do things better. Correctly. Case in point: as far as Gabriel was concerned if an Angel decided to go human, that should be it. They give up every hint of the divine and become 100% fashionable monkey, no takebacks.

“You turned your back on us, Zoe. The Metatron tells me God was devastated to hear what you’ve done.”

“WHY?!” Zoe shrieked. “So what if there’s a few slightly divine humans running round down here what harm does it do?”

Gabriel replied calmly. “It is not part of her natural design, and that is all we need know. It is unnatural, and gross, and you are to be sent straight to the Corrections Department. No trial, no appeal, and remain there until you renounce the decision to become human and beg forgiveness.”

“Fine,” Zoe sobs. “But Allan and Maggie are blameless in this, and at the very least my daughter deserved a future so please, I am begging you, let me work one last miracle!” A hollow pit opened up in her stomach as she realised no amount of desperation would help her cause. All the sorrow of all the mothers on earth wouldn't be enough to move Gabriel to sympathy.

So how the hell do I convince him to do me a favour? Has he EVER done a favour for someone?! She was fast descending into heartbroken panic when suddenly a new idea struck, offering a sliver of hope. Think like him . . .

“What if my time here ended in horrific pain?”

Gabriel’s eyebrows hitched up. “I’m listening.”

*********To read from the begging go HERE

#Good Omens #crowley x aziraphale #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #David Tennant #Michael Sheen #Neil Gaiman #Maggie's mum gets a backstory #it's tragic #but she's a HERO

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aziraphales-library · 1 year ago

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Lost Fic #157

1. Hello, first of all thank you for all your hard work 🫶 really appreciate! I'm looking for a fic i read about a year ago: unfortunately i can't remember much, so i apologise if it's a vague description. I also think i might be mixing some facts with this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39533883 so i’m sorry if i’m making it hard to find. Trigger warning from here on (depression, su! c!de): the fic was set in the crowley's flat and the characters were canon (im pretty sure it was set a short time after S1's canon events, but somehow C still had holy water). Crowley had just suffered some sort of physical and emotional trauma (r@pe? sorry, i can't quite remember) and couldn't trust neither Aziraphale nor himself. He fell in a state of depression and couldn't see any other way out but use the holy water in his safe. (Spoilers) | remember a scene where he weakly walked to the safe and wrote a note, then tried to reach the thermos but was stopped last second by Aziraphale. Thank you in advance🫶; and if you manage to find it, congrats😅 - anon

2. Helloo I hope it's not too hard to find but I lost a fic on ao3 a bit ago I didn't finish reading and was hoping someone recognise it, it starts off with post apoca-nope Crowley being confronted by demons in his flat who tell him to stay away from aziraphale and summon a screen through which to view him. buuut since there was no audio they all missed a conversation between aziraphale and god in which god gives him a golden string (I think) and explains that metatron has been giving orders independently from god, then asks aziraphale to go to heaven and stirr up trouble. And that's when I accidentally closed the Tumblr app and lost it :( - anon

3. so theres this fic i was reading where its post canon but basically crozira gets locked up in heaven and crowley does his snake thing and releases them both (was in the beginning ish) but thats all i remember 😭😭 im sorry if this is too much to ask for, thank you in advance!!! - @stars-v3ria

4. Hello! I hope y'all are doing all right in what I imagine is a swamp of new asks from season 2's approach. (Writing this in the final few weeks til release.) I'm writing in search of a lost fic--I've scrounged through the Aziraphale's True Form tag but come up empty. It was T, M, or E rated, and more or less a true form sex fic, but may or may not have included genital sex. The part I remember (which I think was the focus of the story, it being a oneshot) was framed as a divinity/grace kink scene in which Aziraphale revealed his true form to Crowley. It was overwhelming to him (verging on pain iirc), but also very beautiful, intense, and possibly sensual or sexual. The part I really remember, though, came at the end-- Crowley, crying, used their safeword, which was "Amen." And after that I think it was more on the tender side. Would you happen to have encountered such a story? Thank you very much for your time, and potentially that of your followers-- I very much appreciate all the work you do for the fandom. <3 P.S. In case this reaches the author, and you with to remain anonymous, please know that the fic really stuck with me and I was merely searching for it in hopes of leaving a comment to that effect. <3 - @elderly-worm

5. Hello! I was recently told about the (cursed) movie script and was told that there is a fanfiction of Book and Show Crowley saving movie Aziraphale from movie Crowley. The person said they're sure they read it on ao3 but cannot find it now and I'm extremely curious. Any help would be very appreciated and thank you so much for the library you're doing here, helped me to find a lot of gems. - anon

If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)

- Mod D

#good omens #lost fic #ineffable husbands #mod d

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sortasirius · 4 years ago

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“Inherit the Earth” and the Fakeout

Absolutely genius. Amazing, iconic, legendary, something only our showrunner Andrew Dabb can pull off.

"But Lilly, the episode was so bad! It was just the brothers, they didn’t look for Cas and Eileen!”

YES. THAT IS EXACTLY THE POINT. THIS WAS A FAKE ENDING, THE END OF THE SEASON, NOT OF THE SERIES.

Let’s get into it.

An empty world. No one left but Sam, Dean, and Jack.

So Dean ran, he somehow managed to pick himself up off the floor of the dungeon and meet up with Sam and Jack. That jacket was this silent reminder. Remember what I’ve been saying, Cas has occupied the negative space all season, this is no exception.

Dean can’t look either of them in the face, he’s doing that thing, where his eyes move everywhere BUT where he should look.

“I couldn’t save anybody.”

Sam couldn’t save the world and Dean couldn’t save the one person that means the world to him.

“Where’s Cas?”

“Dean?”

I think it’s there, in that pause where Dean tries to push down the emotions, continue the fight, not think about the memories he left in the bunker, that Jack realizes what must have happened. Jack is the only one that knows about the deal, he has to know what Cas not being there must mean.

“He saved me. Billie was coming after us. Cas summoned the Empty. It took her...and took him. Cas is gone.”

This may shock you, but I am GLAD they didn’t talk about Cas, especially with what happens at the end of the episode. Cas is allowed to just take up unsaid space. It’s obvious he’s missing with the way they blocked things, obvious he’s missing here. This whole “oh well they don’t care about Cas because they didn’t talk about him”? Malarkey.

“Jack I’m sorry.”

Guilt. Regret. Pain. Dean will carry this with him for the rest of his life. Not only that he lost Cas, but that Sam lost Cas, that Jack lost Cas.

That SHOT, with the distance between Jack and Sam where Cas is SUPPOSED TO BE, and then a zoom out to...THE WORLD.

Okay, as usual, Bucklemming has the subtlety of a sledgehammer lmao.

Jack crying??? Praying to Cas???? Bruh?????

Also it’s just straight-up frightening for everything around my boy to die he is my baby son.

Also not to point out the incredibly obvious, but Dean starts drinking immediately, and continues drinking throughout the whole episode. Grief arc 2.0 babey.

“We can what, Dean? There’s no one left to save! Everybody’s gone!”

“You can’t just give up.”

“What other choice do we have!”

Idk why, but for Sam, who’s the constant, the one who’s always had hope, through everything, through all these years, when he finally says this, when he finally loses his hope? It hits the hardest. Sam is the leader, so not only is he grieving the loss of Eileen, he is a general grieving the loss of his soldiers, his friends, the world that he feels the duty to save.

When they go to meet Chuck, I just can’t get that image of Dean, leaning against the car, handprint still on his jacket, staring at the ground out of my head. It takes him a few seconds to catch up to Sam, like he’s pulled out of thoughts like deep dark water. Remember friends, it doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful.

Chuck wearing BLACK? FEAR.

“That’s right, the whole Cain and Abel thing. Us dead, whatever. I’ll kill Sam, Sam’ll kill me, we’ll kill each other. Okay, you pick. But first? You gotta put everything back the way it was. The people, the birds...Cas. You gotta bring him back.”

Willing to kill his brother. Willing to die. Tears in his eyes, begging God to bring Cas back.

And Chuck? Chuck doesn’t care about their surrender, he knows he’s already got them beaten. He cares about their pain, he cares about them suffering, because to him? That’s the entertainment. He’s not entertained by their found family, by their happiness, by their joy. He wants them to suffer, all of them.

“Eternal shame. Suffering. And loneliness.”

And he leaves them with just that. No hope, no family, just the three of them, broken, alone. Jack locked in his bedroom, Sam trying desperately to make life “normal” again. And Dean. Dean who drank so much he passed out on the floor.

He doesn’t feel terrific, he feels like shit, because not only is he dealing with the shame of an empty planet, he’s dealing with the guilt of being back in the place where the Empty took Cas.

This whole thing with the dog was just absolutely heartwrenching shit and if I didn’t hate Chuck before, him snapping Miracle right in front of an already fragile Dean would seal that deal.

I just want everyone to know that this is a Jake Abel stan account.

“Daddy’s boy” is a big insult for my boy Dean to use considering his own past with his trash abusive father but I’ll allow it.

I do think it’s interesting, ending of his arc aside, that Michael is willing to help them now. What changed? Sure, he ended up trying to help Chuck, running back to his father, but why get back in the game? I wonder if it has anything to do with the loss of Adam. It’s an interesting parallel, a man loses his angel while an angel loses his human.

Everything is so DARK in the Bunker now too, even the lighting is loud.

When I tell you I lost my shit when I saw Cas was calling Dean, when I heard Misha’s voice?? I knew it didn’t make any sense but I didn’t care, I would’ve been one step behind Dean as he sprinted towards the door.

Fuck you, Eugenie.

I mean it’s torture not only to Dean, who looks beyond fucking crushed when it’s damn Lucifer at the door, but for us too. Who the FUCK wanted Lucifer back? And to tease Cas??? Garbage.

I mean...fam. Listen, we know who’s writing this episode, this whole Betty thing is just like blatantly unnecessary but again, Eugenie loves Lucifer, gotta distract her with a shiny toy lmao.

It was cool to see Michael and Lucifer onscreen together. It was a cool dynamic that we rarely got to see.

The whole episode is just twist after twist. Listen, it’s their last episode so I guess they needed to fit in a season worth of twists in one episode.

Bye Lucifer. We know Eugenie can’t bring him back. Blessings to all.

This scene with Adam is the FOURTH scene where Dean is drinking...big yikes to my guy’s liver.

Here’s the thing about Michael. He’s a mirror for Dean in season 5. Loyal to an absent father. He has never changed, but Dean has. Dean is able to acknowledge now, the trauma that his father put him through, he was able to move past the need for pleasing him at any cost. Michael and Chuck? Are John and Dean, if Dean had never been allowed to grow. And Chuck proves, like John did, that he would always put his wants (in John’s case “the mission”) over his children.

Also not to beat a dead horse but Michael’s death was also peak Eugenie.

Sam getting to punch Chuck in the face? Thank you, he deserves that.

Obviously I don’t love any scene of my boys getting brutally beaten. But what I love, what I will always love about them, is what Chuck hates about them: they won’t ever give up. They know they won’t win against him, they don’t even land any hits, but that’s not what matters. What matters is their controller doesn’t control them anymore, that they really are free. No matter how hard they get hit, the get back up. It is their choice to stand up to him, no matter the cost.

The moment where Sam and Dean are supporting each other, covered in blood, and they look God in the face, and they laugh. That is why I will love them unconditionally for the rest of my life. That is who they are, they will never cow to the villain, whether that’s Azazel or Alastair or Zachariah or Lucifer or Amara or Death or Metatron or Cain or God. They will always choose to stand up.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because. You lose.”

Chills. What a line.

And Chuck is left, small, human, no longer a villain, no longer anything.

Gotta be real, woulda been nice to, idk, not see all this essential plot in a flashback, but I know I can only ask so much of Bucklemming.

For Dean to walk away from killing Chuck, right after he’s called him “the ultimate killer” is quite simply the most beautifully heartwrenching thing I could ever ask for. Because that’s who Dean was under Chuck, that’s who Chuck wanted him to be.

And he would have before:

But he’s heard some things since then, heard some things about how others see him. Not as the killer, not as a monster, not as angry and broken or his daddy’s blunt instrument:

I’m not saying that Dean doesn’t kill Chuck for Cas. He doesn’t kill Chuck because he doesn’t think he has to anymore, he doesn’t kill Chuck because he listened to Cas, he took Cas’ words to heart. He made the choice not to be the killer.

“See that’s not who I am, that’s not who we are.”

And Chuck is angry, because he thought, after everything, even after losing, that he would still know Dean well enough to know that he would kill him. But Chuck has never really known Dean, he has never understood where he’s really come from. Cas understood, Sam and Jack understand, but Chuck never did, and writing off Dean as angry and broken is his biggest mistake, because that’s never been Dean.

“It’s not his power anymore.”

And it’s not just his physical power, it’s his power over the story, over the boys that’s the real power taken from him.

For Jack to be the one to bring everyone back, for him to be the hero of the story? That’s poetic right there. Now, I will say, I don’t think this story ends with him as God, because for him, the child, to take on this burden, it doesn’t make a ton of sense to me for his arc, but we shall see next week. It felt pretty tied up, but there’s one major loose end: and that’s Jack seeing Cas again.

“Just you and me, going wherever the story takes us. Just us.”

“Finally free.”

This doesn’t feel triumphant to me, it doesn’t feel like relief. It feels like they’ve settled, like this is the best they’re going to get, so they might as well make the best of it, at least they have each other.

For Cas and Jack to be carved into the table? I cry.

And for the montage, very similar to “Swan Song” to be set to “Runnin on Empty”? Sorry but that’s just too sus to be ignored.

They packaged this episode as an ending, because for many, it might be. The season’s story, the season about fighting Chuck is over. So, you might be asking (or, well, screaming, judging by my replies lol), what’s left? And that’s a good question, Chuck has been defeated, so what is left? What’s left is what’s really mattered all season: the relationships that have been crafted over the years. Dean and Sam’s unhappiness at the end of the episode, where “just you and me” sounded more of a grudging acceptance than anything else, is one of the clues that has to be looked at. Why didn’t Sam find Eileen, why didn’t Jack bring back Cas? Those two characters specifically are the ones we need to watch out for. As I’ve said over and over again, peace, contentment, satisfaction, those don’t come from Sam and Dean on the open road together anymore. They have a family, more of a family than they did when they started hunting together all those years ago, and that family is what holds them together. They need each other, of course, but each other isn’t enough anymore. Sam needs Eileen, Dean needs Cas. That is where they will find their peace.

This episode, as many written by Bucklemming was sloppy, rushed, packed full of shit, and had little gems that we can talk about forever, but that was the end of the season, and next week? Andrew Dabb brings us home, where Dean and Sam will finally be able to choose what they want for themselves, and that, my friends, is Eileen and Cas.

#supernatural #spn #spoilers #my meta #spn 15x19 #destiel #saileen

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eirikrjs · 3 years ago

Photo

Oh my gosh, SMT5 spoiler time is finally over (as if it really mattered, lol) so I can finally post this stale comparison between Lucifer and Satan. Wow, they got the peg legs and goofy big hands and pose and everything and one’s a robot.

Oh yeah, robot. You know, I hope Doi didn’t make Lucifer a robot because of the existing robot angels as that would miss their point: besides the UFO theme, the humanoid robotic angels (so Metatron, Sandalphon, Victor) exist as artificially-created bodies made by God for the ascended Enoch and Elijah. And Victor as a prototype receptacle for a “voice,” I think because his body is incomplete and inarticulate as if the voice is inhabiting an inanimate object.

I designed [Metatron] as a cyborg because it is said that he was actually a human (Enoch) turned angel. There are a lot of angels who feel like special systems working for God, so I’d say they might have a mechanical side to them.

There is no visual representation left of Victor, since he is only identified as a voice that offered inspiration. This is why I chose to interpret him as a sort of Metatron prototype.

https://dijehtranslations.wordpress.com/2021/11/29/shin-megami-tensei-devill-summoner-world-guidance-angels-and-friends/

Herald Victor The angel who sent the divine revelations to Saint Patrick. It is said you can hear his voice, but not see him, so I made him similar to a robot.

Herald Sandalphon Made to be Metatron’s twin brother. Apparently he used to be human as well. Talking about the prophet Elijah here.

https://dijehtranslations.wordpress.com/2016/08/08/488/

In Metatron’s case, the image I had in mind was not an appearance he had chosen by his own volition, but something mechanic, manufactured to do what he’s told.

https://dijehtranslations.wordpress.com/2016/08/08/kaneko-comments-on-beelzebubs-and-metatrons-designs-in-smt-ii/

#smt5 #lucifer #satan #metatron #sandalphon #victor

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lunapokema · 1 year ago

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God, I hate reblogging my own stuff but I have things to add.

First, more about Azi asking Crowley to be an angel again. People seem to be quite upset about that. BUT, but Aziraphale is coming from a good place when he asks this - like I said it isn't about changing Crowley but restoring freedoms. Think back to the first episode of S2 where we see Crowley as an angel (no name given) as he is creating the stars. Look at how happy and excited he is. He never smiles like that again in the rest of the series or shows that level of enthusiasm.

I think, even 6,000 years later, Aziraphale remembers that and feels like he isn't able to measure up to it. He's never made Crowley that happy, so why would his friend throw away this opportunity just to be with Aziraphale?

Because, while Crowley has always been on his own side, done things his own way, seen the world in shades of grey while still toeing the line of Hell's rules - Aziraphale has lived 6,000 years under heavy scrutiny and expectations from his superiors. The same superiors whom have constantly put him down, talked behind his back, belittled his efforts, and basically think he is a screw-up. After S1 they almost exclusively call him traitor and make it clear he's been excommunicated from Heaven.

In summary, it wouldn't be surprising if Aziraphale has a very low sense of self-worth. He cuts himself off from saying" I love you" to "I forgive you" after being kissed because he thinks Crowley can do better. He is obviously upset but is making the decision to let Crowley go.

That being said, second point of business: after posting this I read about the "coffee theory" and holy fuck it didn't even cross my mind. Do I think Aziraphale was drugged or mind controlled? No, not really. He is gullible and easily tricked, which I think was the point of the half-wit Nazi characters getting more screen time: to remind the audience of this part of Aziraphale. They also show him being fairly easily tempted into eating by Crowley, making an error in judgement in Edinburgh and thinking himself a demon after lying to save children.

The coffee thing is suspicious as hell though - it is possible there was something in it that inhibited or suppressed Aziraphales true desires. But the whole thing just smacks of the Metatron manipulating Aziraphale away from Crowley. The two of them fucked up one apocalypse together why leave them to their own devices so they can ruin a second one?

And to throw my own hat in the ring on Crowley's little I understand better than you, and they never change their passwords lines-

Who was Crowley before his fall, if he was anyone other than himself at all?

My own personal theory is that Crowley was a "Virtue" in the 9 choirs of angels. It would put him in the middle of the Second Triad who are meant to fulfill God's plan in the universe. Virtues run the operation of movement in the universe. They are often associated with planets, elements, seasons, and nature. It made the most sense since Crowley was associated with making the stars. Further research led to me finding that the Archangel Raphael was also a Virtue. I find the Raphael and Samael theories interesting since there is evidence for and against both. With the recent season I'm inclined to think that Crowley was not only an Archangel, but the Supreme Archangel.

I mean, Crowley is extremely powerful with the ability to stop time, shapeshift, conjure/control fire, shape reality to his perception/imagination, and summon lightning. Or he could be absolutely nobody which would be even funnier and on brand for the series.

As for more S3 "predictions"/hopes, well...

Since Agnes Nutter was so spot on with her prophecies I'm hoping she foresaw her descendent burning themanuscript and has a backup copy of 'Further Nice and Accurate Prophecies for the World to Come' sent to Aziraphales bookshop addressed to Muriel and Crowley to warn about the "Second Coming" apocalypse.

I mostly just want Agnes back on the show again and to perhaps drag some of the other characters back as well. Adam and Warlock should be 15-16 at this point in the timeline and the Catholic Second Coming of Christ mentions the Anti-Christ.

Aaaannnd this is officially longer than the first post and I've been working on it for over two hours, calling this shit done

Unpopular opinion: Episode 6 wasn't Aziraphales fault. I'm most surprised that Crowley let his angel go off alone with an agent of heaven.

I think heaven is a lot harsher than hell in terms of how they treat their "employees". Heaven is quick to punish for the slightest perceived offense and there is no defense or trial. Aziraphale was basically just sentenced to death and Season 2 confirms that Crowley never told him all of the details.

Aziraphale's character is what humans think an angel is: compassionate, forgiving, kind, helpful, benevolent. Azi wants with all his being to do good as he believes it is why he exists, so taking Gabriel's position makes perfect sense. He believes Heaven (and by extension God) is good, because if not what has he been doing for 6,000 years? He allowed people (children) to drown in the great flood, a young woman died in Edinburgh from his mistake, he did nothing to interfere with wars, mass killings or environmental/biological disasters. Heaven "limited" his miracles and it wasn't part of the Great Plan to save humanity from themselves. I think Aziraphale own guilty conscience would turn his feathers black if he became disilliusioned with God.

He wants Crowley to join him and be an angel again not because he has a desire to change him, but because he wants to keep him close and give him the freedom to be nice and caring without always having to hide/deny it.

The Metatron says he wants Aziraphale for the position because he "doesn't just tell people what they want to hear" - but that is going to go very badly very quickly if they were going to erase Gabriel the first time he ever said no.

So, I think Aziraphale is in way over his head and has effectively trapped himself in a place where he is surrounded by enemies. I don't trust the Metatron and think it is likely they will erase Aziraphale's memories and use him as a puppet. If they plan to start another Armegeddon then removing at least half of the pair that could foul it up again is a good strategic move - and Aziraphale is very gullible.

What I would like to see in Season 3, is Crowley riding in on his big black steed (the bentley) to save his angel.

#ineffable husbands #crowly x aziraphale #go s2 #crowley x aziraphale #theories #good omens #good omens theory #good omens thoughts

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mittensmorgul · 4 years ago

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Hi, I have a question, and I hope it would be interesting for you too... Could we talk about angel's wings and feathers?..

I always thought that angel's wings were a part of their true form, a kind of energy which we can only see as a shadows or electric sparks or ash or something like this.

And I didn't think that it could be a real wings with feathers as bird's. Until, while rewatch, I've noticed that angel's feather were mentioned in SPN at least twice (maybe you've noticed more?):

1) In 8.12 when Henry Winchester time travels he uses an angel feather in spell. And then Dean tells that Henry stole an angel feather from the trunk of the Impala. So feathers are reall??? Why did the Winchestets keep the feather in the trunk of the Impala and where they get it? (ok, maybe they found it in the bunker)

2) In 12.13 Sam uses a white feather in spell returning Gavin back in time (we know this spell needs an angel feather)

So now we can see how the real angel feather looks like???

Does that mean that the angel's wings can be presented in physical world like a real wings with feathers and this is not fanfiction? I like this idea so much.

I think that the creators of the show didn't let us to see it, as many other great things, that is sad...

I would really like to know your thoughts about this.

(Sorry for my bad english, it is not my native language...)

Hi there! First off, your English is fine! (lol it’s my native language, and I just typed it “Inglish” by accident, so you’re already doing better than I am :’D)

ETA: DON’T REBLOGGY THIS YET. I forgotted something that @thayerkerbasy just reminded me of, and I’m editing this post... brb... okay NOW YOU CAN REBLOGGY!)

As far as I know, those are the only times in canon we ever see or hear mention of an angel feather, and both times it’s for the same exact spell. They reference that it’s Henry’s spell when they use it again in 12.13, but make no mention in dialogue of it being an angel feather. Yet Sam had a whole jar of fluffy little pin feathers, so the assumption is that they’d been collecting them for a while (unless those were either found in the Men of Letters’ spell ingredient stockpile when they moved into the bunker, or otherwise given to them by Cas at some point).

It’s weird, because they seem like a very limited commodity, especially after the angels fell and their wings all burned up. Even after Cas got his original grace back, his wings never seemingly recovered. When we did finally see his wing prints in 12.23, they were still... not healthy... So my thinking is that any spell that would require them will become impossible to cast when their current supply runs out. All the other angels-- at the end of the series-- were either dead or locked in Heaven with their broken wings. We never learned any of their fates. Maybe they were all rendered obsolete under the Heaven Remodel?

A little behind the scenes from the early days of SPN as a bonus, since it’s tangentially relevant:

When they were filming the very early episodes of SPN, they had a lot of choices to make about what to show us based on what their budget would allow them to portray. Think of an episode like Wendigo, 1.02. One thing I see people say often was that it was a shame we didn’t see more of the monster, but only saw like... bushes shaking, or a vague form moving through the underbrush, or a blur. They made a stylistic choice right there to keep it within budget.

The options they faced were showing us a “dude in a rubber mask” type monster and showing it more, versus one really terrifying shot of a Proper Monster™ dying in spectacular fashion. Rather than go full-on cheesemonster, they chose to leave most of it up to our imaginations, giving us glimpses or hints of the monster.

They went back and forth on this a bit over the years, attempting to show us more on occasion, but most of those times the audience reaction has been varying degrees of wtf... Think about some of the scenes where they attempted to give us more than a glimpse at the supernatural, or a blood splatter, or whatever. It didn’t always work well. Think: the wire fight from 13.23...

I mean, it took us until 11.14 to ever see an angel “flap away,” when we saw Casifer zap Dean off the exploding submarine.

For the most part, I appreciate the fact that they understood the limitations of their own budget and didn’t give angels cheap little wings just to be able to show them on camera. Over time, only being able to see them as shadows, or as char after the angel died, became part of the lore of the show.

I blame Adam Glass for writing that spell, because he probably thought it sounded cool or whatever, that it was effectively a throwaway line because no other spell they’ve ever used has required an angel feather as an ingredient, and in story it was only linked into this larger Men of Letters Legacy plot that in retrospect feels like Chuck tying up loose ends and putting previously “deactivated” plotlines back into play.

I do find it kind of interesting that both iterations of this spell (the second resurrected by Bucklemming) were both tied to Abaddon. Henry’s spell in 8.12 brought her into the story from the past, she eventually travelled to the much further distant past to bring Gavin into the present (presumably with her own power alone, no angel feather required), and then after she was killed, they used the spell to return Gavin to his own time. So in a a way, the spell was part of a closed narrative loop, never to be referred to again.

Kinda wild that we’d never heard of angel feathers being a thing for spells until we learn that Dean apparently had some just stashed in the trunk, though... :’D

As for how corporeal angel feathers are/were, they exist in the earthly plane enough to leave char marks when they burn, when an angel is killed, so they must always have had the potential to manifest physically. I can’t imagine they ever would’ve had a budget to show us anything more than what we usually saw, though. It did give them a LOT of flexibility over how exactly they presented them to us when they DID show us. And I can’t even imagine the suffering Misha would’ve endured as an actor spending all those years wearing some weird wing harness rig. It would’ve been... impractical. And the CGI the show could’ve afforded-- especially in earlier days-- would’ve been... bad...

But what they were able to show us? Was often awesome. Remember when Raphael showed off his wings in 5.03? LIGHTNING!

And when we finally did see actual corporeal-appearing wings in 8.23... it was Dramatique™

And for More CGI Is Sometimes A Bad Thing Science, please have the attempt at Michael’s “true form” from 14.01:

It’s kinda a super-letdown after AU!Michael’s previous shadow wing displays from 13.01, but more specifically from 13.22:

those... were... badass...

Even the pre-wire-fight wing shadows on Dean were badass:

But if they’d tried to show us more of them, to make them move through action scenes for example, it would’ve been... bad...

So what we’re left with is the knowledge that there is some sort of corporeal element to wings that we simply can’t see most of the time, but clearly angels have the ability to show or hide them at will, even from other angels. Could it be an act of will on the part of the angel that manifests a bit of their grace in the form of a physical feather? Honestly, that’s the theory I’ve personally adopted toward canon. In fanfic, I’ve read tons of various headcanons about what angel wings are and how they function-- everything from “a manifestation of their true form” to “angels share a lot of traits with birds” to “an extension of their grace,” and everything in between.

I personally, in canon, like to think of it as akin to how they’ve used angel grace for other spells. I mean, when we recall that angels haven’t been on Earth much for the last few thousand years (aside from at least a couple of known incidents where angels interfered with humanity, like Ishim and Company in 12.10, for example, and the presumptive extension that the Men of Letters knew of the existence of angels and likely summoned one up a time or two the same way Lily Sunder had, giving one explanation for how Henry Winchester knew of this spell and had an angel feather to use for it, but also recontextualized when Lily Sunder taught us that humans can use their own souls to power spells in the same way angels used their grace... which sort of makes the notion of needing an angel feather AND his own soul to charge that particular spell in 8.12 a bit redundant unless Lily’s knowledge of angelic magic was more advanced than Henry’s... hrmpf.... so much tangent... back to the point)...

We did eventually learn of other spells that required an angel’s actual grace, not concentrated in the form of a feather. The Angel Fall Spell in 8.23 being the prime example. Metatron took ALL of Cas’s grace for that one, even if he didn’t use all of it for the spell and left a “fragment” (Metatron described it as “not a lot, but enough.”).

ETA: HECK. I have 9.03 on the tv right now and it’s distractedly made me disgusted enough to have forgotten something that Thayer just reminded me of: Lucifer’s “fossilized feather” in 12.07. It held enough grace to restore and heal him after Rowena’s spell in 12.03 had degraded him. Which really only adds to the theory that “feathers” are simply bits of grace that have been rendered solid somehow, but that can be transformed back into grace as needed.

And then there was the Rift Spell for travelling to alternate universes that required archangel grace, as well as the time travel/ward breaking spell that Sam found in 11.14 that ALSO required archangel grace specifically. Would these spells have worked with an archangel “feather?” Possibly, if material feathers are somehow just crystalized bits of grace, but since we never got a full explanation in canon, and never even really saw corporeal feathery wings that dropped feathers or could be plucked, and never even had mention of corporeal feathers outside of their use in this single spell, it’s really up to our own interpretation. And I kind of like it that way, because that way we get to have fun little discussions like this one. :D

I know this isn’t a definitive answer, but it’s how it all makes sense to me, in the hand-wavey sort of way that all of canon works. :’D

#spn 8.12 #spn 12.13 #spn 8.23 #on the nature of angel grace #angels and souls #sigils and symbols #heck i know i used to have a spells tag...#spn 11.14 #spn 5.03 #spn 12.10 #spn 13.23 #spn 13.22 #spn 13.01 #spn 14.01 #Anonymous #spn 12.07

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