#knowing that Sam would bring him into the fold? Cas was obviously also dead from 13x01-05

[naruhearts]

@itsdeanwinchester *waves* idk if you remember sending me an inbox msg last week. I had a nice reply going with a few of my fave moments and was ready to add onto it tomorrow, so I saved it as a draft in the app.

Because it’s 1:27AM and I didn’t save to Google docs, Tumblr ate both your question and my reply, sorry!

Anyway, let’s get on with it!

- - - -

^^ This. They talk. The spousal-coded domesticity and general offscreen routines between Dean and Cas deliberately increased over the seasons since Dabb Not-So-Subtle Destiel Era S12, and now they’ve become more blatant/on-the-nose from S13 to present. A few of my personal faves:

Cas and Dean watching movies together/Dean making Cas watch his favourite cowboy movies

Cas knowing Dean is “an angry sleeper...like a bear” and Cas implied as making his coffee in the mornings (recalling that Cas doesn’t sleep)

Related to the above, Dean’s mancave as D/C-coded by brilliant Jerry Wanek — additionally a plausibly romantic contrast to platonic Joey/Chandler’s living space (consistent romantic vs familial narrative, where Destiel are like brothers but more than brothers, and platonic situations are subverted into/further contrasted with romantic ones on the show) — with Sam, who’s never seen it before and was first introduced to it in 13x16 compared to Cas, who knew its location when he returned to the bunker after his Tree of Life mission. One can suspect that the mancave was built late S12/pre-Cas 12x23 death/post-13x05. The rest of the room’s setup veers into headcanon territory (i.e. Cas helping Dean move the pool tables in, construct a pop cultural environment -- let’s be real, they can’t build a perfect mancave in a single day/night unless they had no hunts or urgent matters to attend to in-between, and it seems likely that making the room took place over time; maybe Dean probably wanted to surprise Cas after he was resurrected, maybe Dean gave Cas the mixtape in the mancave if it was created pre-12x23, alongside the bedroom or the Impala as more feasible locations for an intimate mixtape gifting exchange; anyway, Dean could’ve given Cas the tape anywhere etc), but the solid fact remains that TPTB went out of their way to narratively stress Sam and Cas’ differing reactions/relationships to Dean’s mancave (Dean himself) based off of TFW’s complex personalities and patterns. Is Sam the type of person to spend a lot of time in there? Why are there two chairs instead of one, if the mancave was specifically made for TFW bonding circle-jerks (no pun intended)? The latter logically adds up with Sam first seeing the mancave vs Cas. Don’t forget the visual narrative—

—in that Sam is excluded, conveyed as an independent person apart from D/C the unit (which we’ve repeatedly seen since S12/13). Voila, Dean and Cas are standing behind each ugly plaid chair. 

p.s. Dean’s Halloween dress-up suggestions of Thelma/Louise and Bert/Ernie in 14x04, with Bert/Ernie as best friends and highly-likely-or-even-confirmed-gay-couple — and familial bro Sam responding to Dean’s suggestions with “That’s weird” — thus reminds viewers of, again, the varying nature of Sam and Cas’ relations to Dean. Both pop culture pairings subtextually make sense within the romantic Dean and Cas context.

Also, Eldritch bunker, because where the heck is the mancave located? :P

SPN Blatant Mirror City 14x04: Dean mirror Dirk saying that A. Stuart the Cas mirror is his best friend (with the exact nature of their relationship purposely veiled), and B. him and Stuart watch movies and eat pizza together, highlighting 13x06 and 13x16; persistently linked to Cas = Pizza Man/pizza subtext and continuous interpersonal romance-coded bonding via beer and food with Dean’s telling reaction:

“We’d just eat pizza and watch movies. It’s...zen.”

“Sounds like a good friend.”

And I mean, Perez penned both 14x04 and 13x06, intentionally poking at us to fill in the concurrent subtextual blanks. Dean and Cas are best friends, first and foremost. And they’re also more. Storytelling always builds on previous emotional threads to flesh out and establish long-running themes like Love and...Love (corroborate pre-existing romantic subtext), and when you have these explicitly parallel characters Dirk and Stuart maintaining emotional links to the mytharc (e.g. brave and kind Dirk defending his family, Stuart and Sam mirror Samantha, from Toxic Father John Winchester mirror David (literal Hunter) Yeager and standing up to him), it’s the most relevant.

Just recently in 14x16: Dean telling Sam early AM about Cas’ whereabouts before the general household is even awake, implying that either Cas told him in the evening or let him know in the morning (face-to-face) or text/phone call

These are all canon.

Again, exactly...regardless of whether or not Dean and Cas’ subtextual inexplicably romantic narrative is textually confirmed, the UNDENIABLE take-home message -> Dean and Cas are best friends and spend time together — more than we’re explicitly shown onscreen (Misha/Cas haters/brosonlies who continue to insist otherwise are still ignoring canon); D/C will reach full mutual transparency.

Positive Endgame’s arrived and I’m cautiously optimistic! 

[meowmeowmessi]

Loool that Simp cass tag. But you were right tho, after that dean can’t reciprocate scene, all shit cas made sam go thru made him look like a jealous bitch. And it makes so much sense now too which is funny cox when i watched the episode where cass didn’t answer any of Sam’s text i was wondering why. Like Dean was the one he was fighting with.. why not answer Sam’s texts.. and after 15x18 i hmm bitch was just jealous. He even said to dean “you & Sam have each other.” Jealous!Cas is canon y’all.

I honestly hate how much I've been thinking about simp Cass ever since 15×18  aired afjklafjsjlgjskafjkl like??? This isn't even the first time Dean and Cass had a fight after which Sam left Cass texts and Cass didn't answer??? But what happened in s15 is ten times funnier bc Dean was actually PISSED on Sam's behalf that Cass wasn't responding to his texts bc "How dare you not reply to Sammy's texts and make him sad?" There's so much jealous bitch Cass stuff to be found in s15 alone but the rest of the show has a lot to offer as well. Cass saying yes to Lucifer? Totally a ploy to get back at Sam. Cass leaving Sam in the cave to die in s13 and telling Dean he can't be saved? WELL. Simp Cass in Beat The Devil be like:

Cass: Sam is dead!!!! Now NOTHING can get in the way of me and Jack and Dean being a happy family!!!

Dean: *literally won't talk to anyone, not even his own mother, the one he came to this hell hole for in the first place, is adamant on getting back to Sam no matter what, vampires be damned*

Jack: WHERE'S SAM??? HE'S NOT DEAD HE CAN'T BE DEAD WHY DIDN'T YOU BRING HIM BACK?!?!? *shoves Cass' hand off of his shoulder*

Cass: Like father like son fml 

Also Sacrifice is pretty hilarious too if you look at it through simp Cass lens: 

Sam: *is going to die if he finishes the third trial*

Cass: What an excellent opportunity to drag Dean away from Sam just as he's beginning the third trial so that he can FINALLY die already and I can have all of Dean's love 

And then he takes Dean away to that bar or whatever where the cupid hooks up the two dudes and Cass is all *wink wink* *nudge nudge* @ Dean while Dean is like "So when can I go back to Sammy"

And then Naomi tells Dean that Sam will die if he finishes the trials and Cass is mentally going "NOOOOOOOOO" as he watches Dean's face take on that age old "SAMMY IS IN DANGER NOTHING ELSE MATTERS NOW" look.

Cass: She's lying!!!!!!!! Sam will be tOtALLy fine!!!!!

Dean: idgaf tAKE ME TO SAM  N O W

Cass, having s4 finale flashbacks: Oh my Father not this again 

And then there's the fact that he lied about not knowing that Sam's soul is missing even though he KNEW Sam was soulless the MINUTE he pulled him out......... Guess he thought if he brought back a soulless version of Sam and lied about it then Dean would think he's lost his baby brother forever and he could slide riiiigghht in to take Sam's place but NOPE. Dean's now just pining for his puppy eyed empath of a brother. Absence makes the heart grow fonder amirite. And THEN Dean finds out Sam's soul is missing so Cass is like "U should leave it in the cage bc uh... UHHHHH..... *checks notes* Sam might die if he gets his soul back..... even though if he does he'll go straight to heaven which is oBviOusLy worse than being tortured by two furious archangels in the cage. Yep. That makes sense." *nailed it*

Dean: *kills himself and bargains with Death to get Sam's soul back and makes Death put up a wall in Sam's head to protect him from his hell memories*

Cass: Guess I gotta do this the hard way then *breaks Sam's wall*

Dean to Death later on: KILL HIM *pointing at Cass*

Cass:

Also imagine if all those times Cass accidentally held his fake FBI badge upside down and Dean fixed it for him was not so ~accidental~ bc he knows Dean doesn't like being close to him so that's the only way he can get SOME skin on skin contact with him......... like.............

Cass: *holds his fake badge upside down*

Dean: *fixes it for him and their fingers brush for .000002 seconds*

Cass, mentally:

Cass in Sam's room pretending to watch Netflix when in reality he's trying hard to drown out Sam's moans and Dean's grunts as Dean fucks his baby bro in Dean's room like:

(my friend suggested this Fall Out Boy song to me for simp Cass and I hate how well this bit fits skjsksjskjskskj) 

Also Cass hugging Dean in the s11 finale and Dean just giving him a bro pat while with Sam Dean YANKS him into an embrace and folds his arms over him and holds him close, letting Sam curl his hands into his jacket and bury his face in his shoulder while flower petals float in the air around them must have made Cass seethe with rage lmao

Purgatory must have been fun. Benny probably let Dean talk his ear off about Sam bc he was ACTUALLY a good bro and Dean's REAL best friend and he realized that Sam meant a lot to Dean so he let Dean have this sliver of happiness while Cass just felt like dying in the back lmfao 

wym I think about simp Cass too much 

[drsilverfish]

The Triffid of Hope and the Stop-Watch of Despair - 15x09 The Trap

Hey everone,

I’m just catching up British time, as usual, and getting down my initial thoughts before I jump in and see what you’ve all been up to.

The much-anticipated Purgatory prayer episode - here we go!

First off - Chuck is a lying liar who lies, and also, how bad was his vamp Winchester bros script?! We know it’s a script, because he asks Sam - “So, what d’ya think?” writer-style, after AU!Bobby executes Vamp!Sam. I thought Bobo did great work here, distinguishing (for us) between his own writing and Chuck’s sucky (ha ha) vamp-Chesters ending. And oh boy, does Bobo torch the “Butch and Sundance going out together in blaze of glory” SPN scenario, because it’s one of Chuck’s shitty versions. I think we can rest assured we’re not gonna get that! 

“All good things must come to an end,” Chuck says, holding up a scalpel in the Lucky (pink) Elephant (in the room, ahem Destiel) Casino. Bobo’s meta way of telling us that yes, of course, there is pain to be endured (by us) along the way, before our heroes get their freedom. Pain, because Supernatural, our favourite show, is ending.

I loved the double-structure of the episode, which balanced Sam and Eileen’s story with Dean and Cas’ story - past, present and future folded into one another; see-sawing between the twin axes of hope and despair. 

The Triffid of Hope:

Isn’t this shot (and its symbolism) great? Dean is framed between the Purgatory-Triffid and the awesome three-eyed skull of a dead Leviathan (the “third eye”, in Indian spiritual traditions, symbolising higher self-knowledge).

Leviathan dude: “There’s a blossom, that grows out of the soil when we die.”

Ah-ha - I knew all the death symbolism in Michael’s God-locking spell had to mean something. It just didn’t happen the way I thought it would (Cas dying in Purgatory).

Instead, the Leviathan blossom is a monster-corpse feeding flower - it grows from death. And so it is a perfect metaphor for hope, linked to all the old vegetation Gods (like Osiris, like the myth of Persephone) as well as to those heroic underworld journeys, of Gilgamesh and Orpheus and Inanna which @prairiedust and I were talking about previously in relation to Purgatory 2.0. Because, from death, springs new life (just as Spring follows Winter) and from an underworld journey comes deeper self-knowledge and psychic growth (a la Jung). 

On a meta level, this is Bobo’s message to us too - yes the show has to “die”, but who knows what new and wondrous things will be born from its “corpse”. 

Dean was previously the one, of the two Winchester brothers, who’d lost hope as result of the “Welcome to the End” revelations about Chuck’s active machinations in their lives. Dean was the one who couldn’t figure out what was real especially his relationship with Cas:

Dean: “I can’t figure out what’s God and what’s real, and it’s driving me crazy” (15x06 Golden Time). 

He was the one who’d said (as emphasised in this week’s re-cap): “It’s God, Sam... How the Hell are we supposed to fight God?” (15x05 Proverbs 17:3). 

But, in Purgatory 2.0, Dean got his hope back. 

Why? 

We already know why, from watching Dean pivot from suicidal in 13x05 Advanced Thanatology, to happy cowboy cosplay in 13x06 Tombstone, as soon as he got Cas back from death. Cas is intimately tied to Dean’s sense of faith and hope.

And in Purgatory 2.0, Dean finally finds (some of) his words and gets his relationship with Cas back on track, and in so doing, he recovers that faith and hope. 

Hence that shot of him lying between death (the Leviathan skull) and the Triffid of Hope. Because Dean’s underworld journey to Purgatory 2.0 brings clarity to hs heart, just as it did last time. In Purgatory 1.0, “It felt pure”; in Purgatory 1.0, Dean’s mission was, “Where’s the angel?” In Purgatory 1.0, Dean let himself love Cas again (as I’ve said before) without guilt, despite the things Godstiel/ Levi!Cas had done, to Sam, and to the world.

In Purgatory 2.0, Dean (just like Sam, in the parallel story) is on the clock. Time is ticking - the rift Michael opened is finite:

 And so, in losing Cas for several frantic hours as the clock runs out, Dean finds clarity, just as he did before, and he prays (on his knees no less):

Dean: “Cas, whereever you are, it’s not too late. I should have stopped you. You’re my best friend, but I just let you go...”

And Dean cries as he prays, and there is absolutely no doubt, in those tears, and in that apology, that he loves Cas (although the text continues to embrace ambiguity as to the nature of that love). 

Imagine - Dean must also be reliving the last time they were in Purgatory together, when Cas actively chose to stay behind, which broke Dean’s heart so much he re-wrote his own memory. In the land of monsters once more, Dean is, finally, terrified it’s all going to happen again (because he pushed Cas away this time). 

As a romantic love-story, of course, it’s still subtext. The glass-closet still structures the narrative. We still get the plausible deniability “bromance” of; “Cas, you’re my best friend.”

And you know, it’s totally OK to feel disappointed, heart-sore, stricken or enraged about that. Nothing throws the heteronormativity of our world more into relief than watching Sam have a beautiful and tender kiss with Eileen (and I totally buy and love their relationship) when their love-story has had a tenth of the back-story and build-up that exists between Dean and Cas, whilst Dean and Cas get a hug (albeit a clearly very emotional one):

I think “queerbaiting” is, partly, a receiver-effect. Meaning, it’s partly subjective. So, some people may feel “queer-baited” by the show and others may not. It’s certainly perfectly legitimate to feel the pain of the closet, of almost-but-not-quite representation (and many queer fans have left the show over the years for that reason). The definition of “queerbaiting” however, is complex (and needs its own post). 

For myself, I absolutely do feel the pain of the closet, but I don’t feel a sense of “bad faith” from the writers’ room (and I used to). I certainly trust in Bobo, whose first episode was that paean to break-up angst, 9x06 Heaven Can’t Wait, to be telling Dean and Cas’ love-story as truly, madly and deeply as he can, within the constraints imposed by TPTB (the fact that also happens to suit TPTB is another level we won’t get into here). 

Because isn’t this the face of a man who had something else to say, when Cas cut him off with, “You don’t have to say it - I heard your prayer” ????

The Stop-Watch of Despair:

Chucks’ mission in 15x09 is to crush Sam’s hope, even as Dean is re-gaining his own hope in Purgatory. 

Chuck does that in two ways. First, he makes Sam and Eileen doubt how much of their love story is real, as he tells them he nudged Eileen’s resurrection along and then used her (unwittingly) to spy on the Bunker.

When Eileen leaves Sam, at the end of the episode, she says: “After what happened, I don’t know what’s real anymore..” 

Obviously, that is paralleled to Dean’s previous doubt about his relationship with Cas, which Cas answered expllicity in 15x02 Raising Hell (although Dean couldn’t take it in at the time):

Dean: “Nothing about our lives is real. Everything that we've lost, everything that we are is because of Chuck. So maybe you can stick your head back in the sand, maybe you can pretend that we actually had a choice. I can't.”

Castiel: “Dean. You asked, "What about all of this is real?" We are.”

Sam plays Cas’ part (but it’s his own part too - I don’t want to reduce Sam and Eileen to mere parallels for Dean and Cas - their story is their own) when he kisses Eileen and says, “I know that was real,” (so, he’s able to hold onto a little hope, after all - go Sam!):

Second, Chuck makes Sam doubt the possibility of a happy ending, for the Winchesters, for the people they love, and, importantly, for the world. If they succeed in locking Chuck away, Chuck claims, Sam and Dean will die as vampires, and monsters will overrun the earth:

We can see here, that Metatron  was right, in 11x20 Don’t Call Me Shurley, when he said to Chuck, of humanity: “They are your greatest creation because they're better than you are.”

Because Chuck manages to get to Sam, psychologically, only because Sam cares, with all his heart, about the fate of the world and all the people in it. 

This is where the time-construction of the episode gets clever. Because, the future-Dean, who Sam sees, has lost hope again. And why? This is the face of a man who has locked Mark-of-Cain crazed Castiel in a Ma’lak box (and don’t forget S14 established the Ma’lak box as a closet metaphor):

And oh damn, we see Cas take on the Mark as part of the God-trapping spell in the “Trifffid of Hope” portion of the story. Does he still have it now, even though Chuck destroyed the spell?

Chuck shows Sam an (apparent) future in which the brother who raised him, has abandoned all hope, which is the true definition of Hell (”Abandon all hope, ye who enter here” - Dante’s Inferno) and that is the other psychological lever Chuck uses to get Sam to despair. His faith in Eileen is shaken, and his faith in Dean is shaken.  

Chuck clearly admires Sam. He almost treats him as a worthy antagonist. He refers to him as “Promethean” and “heroic”, and, in a sense, perhaps he genuinely means it. But, of course, it’s also part of his ploy to destroy Sam’s hope. Prometheus, after all, got his liver eaten out by eagles on the regular, sent by the chief God of Olympus himself, Zeus (aka Chuck) for his pains.

Chuck (to Sam): “You still think you’re the hero of this story. You still think you can win.”

And Chuck succeeds (temporarily) in destroying Sam’s hope, by making him doubt the reality of his love with Eileen, and by making him doubt that his big brother will have the hope necessary to “Carry on my wayward sons,” in the future (all the more believable because Sam has, in fact, seen Dean lose hope before when he’s lost Cas).

But what changes, monumentally, at the end of the episode, is that Dean doesn’t blame Sam. He just says, “That’s good enough for me,” about Sam’s assertion he believed in the Chuck-in-the-Cage future Chuck showed him, and, “We’ll find another way.”

Dean brought the Leviathan blossom of hope back from Purgatory, and with it, deeper self-knowledge about how he has taken his feelings of helplessness out, as anger, against the people he loves best (Sam and Cas). This time, he doesn’t do that. For Team Free Will, once all together again, The Triffid of Hope wins out over The Stopwatch of Doom. 

Just as it’s right, on a psychological level, that locking Chuck in a cage isn’t a viable solution - because external cages are metaphors for the prisons of the mind. Team Free Will’s heroic and metaphysical journey through the realms of the God-machine is also a journey towards emotional wholeness, and freedom from the psychological prisons of their past.  

And so, to conclude, this episode (my favourite of Bobo’s since his first) is filled with love.... and love. 

The Winchester brothers’ love for one another, we see, undoubtedly, in Sam’s narrative. But that’s also interesting, because again, Chuck misses Cas out of the story - and so ends up with a bros-only Butch and Sundance ending. And Bobo emphasises Chuck’s version is stuck in “toxic co-dependency” - because it’s the two of them, as Vampchesters, as monsters, going out together against the world - specifically against even their own friends, Bobby and Jodie. Now there’s a potent metaphor. By contrast, a healthy Sam and Dean relationship allows the loving presence of others.   

And there we have it -  the.. and love (precisely, the loving presence of others) in the love between Sam and Eileen (whose faith in that love, Chuck has deliberately shaken, for now) paralleled to the love between Dean and Cas (whose faith has been restored in Purgatory, for now).

Bobo clearly shows us that hope is the key to defeating Chuck, because it is only when Sam loses hope that Chuck is free of the God-wound. 

And love is hope, because to love is to be hopeful - to be hopeful that you will be loved back, that love will endure, that a future with your loved ones is possible and so, worth fighting for. 

Supernatural has always, always (as we all well know) been about the “power of love” (despite Dean’s doubt in 5x18 Point of No Return). 

In the end both the Triffid of Hope and the Stop-Watch of God-Time will converge, ending God-Time and granting true freedom for Chuck’s “characters”. 

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Can't Stop It

"Take one."

***

Dean clutched onto the tree branch, it seemed to be the only thing holding him up, as his entire world came crashing down around him.

Cas lay, more than halfway to dead, not more than ten feet away.

"Don't leave me alone here, Cas," Dean cried out, startling himself too with how desperate he sounded. He wanted to get to Cas, but he didn't know if his legs would take him. "Don't do this to me. You can't -"

Cas made no sound. A dreadful silence, escape for the dull, distant roar of monsters fighting amongst themselves, as never stops in Purgatory.

"I can't -" Dean began, instead. "Please, Cas, I can't leave you here, and I couldn't carry you like this. Hell, I can't even walk. I can't do anything -" His voice started to break. "All i know is that I need you to get out of here with me."

He just wished Cas would move, would prove that he was still here. He refused to believe Cas couldn't hear him. He tried to drag himself ahead, but it wouldn't work. He couldn't remember the last time he broke one of his legs. This felt worse.

"Hang in there, Cas. I cannot fail you again." Dean let out, strangled, not willing to stop talking as long as there was the slightest chance that Cas could hear him. "Not like last time here. Not like back on Earth. You mean too much to me, okay? We're getting out of here, and we're going to fight God and win, and - goddammit, Cas, can you give me a sign that I'm not talking to your goddamn corpse?"

And it's his own words which set him off.

He feels tears clouding his vision. "No. No, no, that can't happen. Please don't die, Cas. I need you. I - I'm begging you." The tears start to fall. He's never been so helpless before.

He can't do anything.

"I think I said I don't care, but I don't think I've ever cared more about anyone who wasn't blood. I tried to stop it, I swear I did, but I can't stop. I just can't stop -" Dean wrestled out of himself, his bloodstained cheeks clearing as his tears trail down his face.

They should cool him down, but it only gets worse. His face is burning up. His insides are burning up. His leg is killing him, and if he can't move, why the fuck is he still standing?

"I love you." Dean fell to his knees.

Everything hurt. There was no way out. He didn't - no, he didn't want Sam to deal with all the crap out there alone, but he just couldn't do it anymore. Not if Cas died, here in another realm, even as Dean crawled his pathetic ass back through the rift. Not if Cas didn't come back. Not if -

"Dean?"

***

"Okay, ugh." Chuck takes off his writing glasses, and starts to wipe them with his overshirt. "That's exactly the kind of bullshit which happens when you let your characters write themselves." He rolls his eyes.

And starts to backspace. "As if the three magic words could bring back Cas. The Empty doesn't work that way, Dean. These idiots do just about anything if you don't pay attention."

"Rule one of being God," He mutters, to no one in particular, stretching back in his desk chair thrice before flexing his fingers. "Slash, the only rule of being a writer."

"Remember it's you who's doing the writing." He declares, after a climatic pause.

Chuck rereads what he's typed out, squinting.

(It is a little bit like propheting, to be fair to his alias. At least the first drafts are.)

It takes him a godly moment to realize it sucks.

Way too much use of 'don't', and 'can't'. Way too out of character. The 'I Love You' is unnecessary. And the buildup is so pathetic, he should just delete the whole thing.

So then he does.

He pauses at the 'I Need You to get out of here with me'. Not bad. He can work with this.

Also, the 'Tried to stop it, but I can't' line is something that just stays with you. It's so emotional. He's a genius.

And of course, he's always been fond of 'falling to the knees' moments.

What about the rest? Well, everything else gets deleted.

Chuck decrees that there's no room for confessions in a purgatory death scene. This has to be gory, and not make-your-heart-gooey.

Like, sheesh, he's created some saps. He puts them into a violent setting, and it ends up with Dean admitting he loves Cas.

What kind of a ridiculous story is that? That's why first drafts are only good as fodder to the author's creative side.

They're good, only as long as the author is willing to delete it entirely, and not build upon it.

You see, one can't get too attached to their work.

Flexing his fingers once more for good measure, Chuck starts typing again.

"Take two."

***

Dean looked around in a frenzy, trying to spot the angel, or any part of him. He leaned his weight against a tree trunk, because if he didn't, he'd simply fall to the ground. He'd taken two bullets in his right leg, and had lost a lot of blood already.

***

Should he add more description of the nature of the wound? Probably, yeah. That's what the previous draft obviously missed.

***

He hadn't seen it coming, at all. Probably because, least of all, he hadn't expected human weapons here, in the land of scythes and clubs!

Dean still held onto his own knife - grateful that he could still wield one, even though he can't move.

"Cas!" Dean yelled, just about beginning to assume the worst. "CAS! We need to go back, Cas - the rift is wearing thin, and I need you to get out of here with me!"

***

It's utterly foolish to suggest that Cas is lying in front of Dean, and Dean can't get to him - shot twice, or not. Solution? Remove Cas from the scene.

Let him be dead in a ditch, and not ten feet away. Easy, peasy. That way, Dean can be reined in better, too.

***

"The portal's dying, you hear me? Cas, we can't make the same mistake again! We need to get out. Dammit, I need you to give me a sign you're alive -" His voice trembled.

The fear of the worst prevailed over hope.

"Where are you, Cas?" He shouted, and his throat threatened to give up. In a softer voice, he let out. "You can't be dead. It's - not you, too. Everyone - everyone's dying, Cas, you can't just -"

He drew in a painful breath.

"I'm supposed to stop this, I'm supposed to save my family, but nothing works, and everyone ends up getting hurt! I tried to stop it, but I can't - I just can't."

***

Huh. That nicely platonizes it.

Now it's no longer about unstoppable love. It's about unstoppable deaths of his adopted family. Better.

***

His words seem to drag him down with them, as he falls to the ground. His knees hit the ground first, and pain floods through his senses, almost numbing his brain.

All he can think of is how he's failed, time and again, at saving his family - and how it just happened again. About how Cas is gone.

Forever.

***

"Way, way better," Chuck whistled, pushing himself out of the chair, and starting to walk around. He reexamines his second draft in his mind.

No spontaneous declarations of love, check.

No hopeful cliffhanger, check.

Feelings of guilt, associated with Dean's role as the guardian, Check.

Fear of God?

Dammit.

He's going to have to write it again. And keep the family angst, the crushing feelings of guilt, and add in an element of villainy.

By the way, you're allowed to borrow elements from your second draft. It's just better if you don't. Don't be lazy, it's your writing.

If you don't put your heart into writing, why on earth do you even need one? Chuck resolves to make this one everything he wants it to be.

He selects the entire text, and blinks to have it obliterated.

"Take three."

***

Dean had looked everywhere, as much as he could, in his state of injury. His wounds made it difficult to think clear, but he knew who he was looking for.

Cas had to be somewhere around here. Why couldn't Dean find him? But he refused to give up hope yet, and kept on yelling the angel's name, weary hopes of a response running thin.

"We need to get out of here, Cas!" He shouted, holding onto a branch to stay upright. He doubted if he'd be able to get up if he fell. "The rift - it's closing, Cas. Where the hell are you? How do I know if you're alive? I need a sign, Cas - anything!"

Dean tried to move, but he stumbles and is grateful that he's still holding onto the branch. He resolves to not try to walk anymore. "Don't die on my watch, Cas - I swear, you can't die here!"

***

Guilting the other person back is a nice touch, isn't it?

***

Dean's chest constricted with the words, instead of feeling lighter. But he's finally letting it out, and he can't stop now.

"I can't do anything right! Can't save you, can't save my family, and I can't even save the world!"

He felt tears trickle down his face.

"He's going to win, Cas! He's God, and I'm just - I'm just the guy who once saved the world with his brother, and that too 'cause God must've willed it!"

"I'm trying to not think about how we've been lied to, our entire lives! I'm trying to stop feeling like we're puppets, like he's still controlling everything we say and do and think - I tried to stop it, I just can't -" He cried out, before his voice cracked, and he lets out a frustrated groan.

He can't go on - he just doesn't have the words. He doesn't have the strength.

So he falls to the ground, knuckles - white from clutching onto the branch suddenly relieved of their duty, and lying limp as he folds on the ground, unconscious.

It's the blood loss, and the pain, and the tears, and the loss - and it's all too much, and his body just gives in. He just gives up.

Dean can't do this anymore. He can't fight God. In fact, he never could.

And he's finally stopped believing in the farfetched myth that he ever could.

***

"Yahtzee." Chuck bit his lips, clicking on save, and pushing his chair away from his desk.

Now that's what you call a perfect scene.

It has everything. Whump beginning, gradual plot progression, poetic storytelling, heartbreaking dialogue, and a conclusion. A meaningful conclusion.

He's done a good job today. He managed to cut down a scene from love confession to familial guilt to helpless surrender - and he did it spectacularly.

With a satisfied sigh, Chuck walks off to the kitchen, to get himself some coffee, as he sits and ponders what happens next.

After all, he's going to have to start thinking, now, of what happens to his other favorite lead.

[dotthings]

Heavily cluttered, as many Bucklemming eps are, but worth the trip. There was a lot of goodness in 15.08 and there were two moments where I shrieked out loud.

My two out loud-shriek moments, let’s get that out of the way: 

Queen Rowena. Caaaaalled it.

Dean and Cas are going back??? To???? Purgatory???? Together?????? And Bobo???? Is???? Writing the episode???????????? *SHRIEKING AND FLAILING*

Okay more orderly and sedate now. Eileen is so damn fierce. She’s a very physical fighter, she’s smart but seems to use a blunt fighting skill. She can punch HARD. I love watching that so so much. I would enjoy female characters on SPN like this regardless, but the fact that this is a hero character with a disability and it’s never a big deal is deeply refreshing and SPN did something really really right bringing her back, amen.

Protective Sam shows up and Eileen is happy to see him but literally pushes him aside so she can make the kill. She doesn’t need his protection, but she also values him as a hunting partner as the ep shows. Also they’re trying to build a relationship here. Eileen seems used to hunting solo and Sam wants to offer backup, and he got worried. 

So the plan is to lock up Chuck like Chuck locked up Amara. The sweet irony of this delights me. He tried to shut away the divine feminine rather than actually stepping up to deal with his sister as, well, a person (well, a divine deity, but still, a being with feelings and thoughts and complexities). Chuck, the arrogant and narcissistic toxic masculinity God, maybe to be locked up now instead as his hubris and his lack of empathy and his petulance is exposed. What if Amara was the more competent deity all along? 

There is no way Dean doesn’t know what an Achilles’ heel is. The random WTF of this is so much it’s not even angering it’s just so bizarre. LOL what even. Look I am really enjoying S15 but I hope the butterfly net tightens on stopping this kind of thing because honestly. I’ll just pretend that scene isn’t there. Luckily I enjoyed the episode overall a lot.

Team Free Will in research mode together in the bunker just really makes me happy. Cas is where he belongs.

Donatello!Chuck threatening Jody, Donna, Eileen, “pretty much everyone on your speed dial” as a deterrent to Sam and Dean is bearing out again my impressions of how Chuck views these characters. I’m still not 100% sure what he thinks of Cas who is right in the room but Chuck doesn’t seem to acknowledge him, except as some sort of right arm to Sam and Dean, as I’ve said in other posts, I think Chuck regards him as a nuisance now, and a deterrent to his miserable endings, and a pawn. Just like Donna, Jody, and Eileen, to him, they’re just pawns. They’re all people Sam and Dean care about, and Chuck will use them to keep his two favorites in line.

See what I did there?

Yeah. Chuck doesn’t care about the characters as people. Everyone except Sam and Dean are expendable and tools to be used so he can control Sam and Dean and that’s it. He’ll destroy them with a snap of his fingers and won’t care. Look at that. Familiar attitude, isn’t it. How interesting.

“If you want to stay here, stay here.” Dean’s gone back to not!listening to Cas I see. While Cas is Dean-avoidant and trying not to look at him throughout the episode. But both of them are thawing just a little.

Like when Cas heals Dean’s cut palm and the way it’s staged looks like he’s going to take Dean’s hand to do it which I don’t think is an accident. That moment was meant to be soft.  Dean didn’t ask. Cas offered. And Dean didn’t jerk his hand away or say no. Then there’s the fact that Cas is going to go with Sam and Dean into Hell despite all his misgivings about Michael and this entire plan. 

Team Free Will, getting all researchy together, and then getting all BAMFY together with their angel blades going into Hell.

We didn’t get any kind of nod back to Dean and Cas’s last visit together to Hell and that’s the second time they have been back to Hell (well the last time was some sort of Hell ante-room, the cage was brought up iirc) and SPN failed to nod to it, WHY AM I CONTINUALLY DENIED THIS.

“Hello, boys.” There it is. My actual shriek of delight. I hope it didn’t alarm the neighbors.

“I took it.”  Yes you did, my red-headed goddess queen of the underworld. You sure did. GET IT ROWENA. Rowena won the game of thrones. Boom.

She’s a little flirty with Sam, still has a soft spot for him I think. 

And then starts playing marriage counselor for Dean and Cas. “What am I picking up with you two? A wee tiff?....So fix it.” Someone called this, I’m fairly certain, that if Rowena saw Dean and Cas again during their divorce she’d size that situation up and down and comment on it. FIX IT. So say we all.

“Family sucks.” Jake Abel did such a fantastic job in this. tbh I didn’t give much thought to Adam all these years, it seemed like SPN was never going back there. I liked Jake’s performances in S5, but it just seemed like a story that was over. But Jake Abel, man. He comes back after all this time and owns the dual roles and made me care. With a performance that was alternately fearsome and vulnerable. 

“That’s adorable.” Dean is SO happy about Sam and Eileen, he looked so soft, and still a bit not okay because his chosen other half is barely looking at him, but mostly Dean’s rooting for Sam to have some happiness. “If it was to work, she gets it, she gets us, she gets the life.” It’s a retreated on Sam’s speech back during “Baby” about someone...something...who understands the life. And Sam has found that with Eileen.

Meanwhile Cas is right there, with Dean, with this great big chasm still open between them but...he’s there. And all the arrows point towards him for Dean. 

Dean and Cas are being magnets again. Not like in S14 where every time there is a crisis they stand very close together and are drawn together, now they’re like magnets that are trying not to feel the pull but they cannot escape each other’s pull nor do they really want to, but they can’t quite figure out how to cross the distance. 

There’s more than one scene where Dean or Cas is out of focus and the other in focus, as if to emphasize how they’re both there but not in phase with each other. Not yet.

I so enjoyed the Cas and Michael stuff. Cas’s prayer to Michael, Michael’s mad on for Cas. “Oh, I didn’t come to beg.” And there’s the ruthless strategic angel.

There’s also something really...fitting about Sam and Dean and Cas all being the ones standing outside the ring of holy fire together to trap an archangel who they effectively hope to bring in from the cold, to their side, in a post S6 era of the show. 

“To paraphrase a friend you had an entire oak tree shoved up your ass.” I see Cas is still quoting Dean, having Dean as a compass point or a North star. Even if he can barely look at Dean right now.

Cas telling Michael his unimportance to God and keeping the upper hand is just...so satisfying. Cas has grown so much. I keep thinking about S5 Cas and how despite how powerful Cas was back then, radiating power in ways he doesn’t quite do the same way now, Cas always seemed so...smol next to the archangels. Punching above his weight class. But now he faces down Michael and tells Michael rawly how it is with their dad Chuck. And when Michael tries to choke him, he fights past it and goes into Michael’s mind to show him everything, to help him see the truth. Cas has grown so much, this felt a lot like a little brother constantly picked on leaves home, grows, and comes back to find big, big brother isn’t quite as big and intimidating as he remembers. 

Which in fact he isn’t, because Michael is capable of insight and change and feelings too. He’s not his father. Despite being the favorite. Despite clinging still to his hero-worship. But Cas worked past that with Chuck long ago.

When Eileen’s friend needs help on a hunt, and Eileen goes to Sam, Sam goes with her, no doubts. Tells Dean he’s going, as Dean recounts to Cas, and Dean seems cool with it. 

Sam and Eileen seem to be growing closer and closer, and while there is something tentative about Sam, he definitely is drawn to her and cares. That tentativeness is from past hurt and loss and maybe he’s scared to enter into this kind of relationship. But they’ve got their own magnetic pull together, they fit. 

Dean and Cas facing each other in that bunker kitchen, the lighting darker and colder than usual. They’re facing each other, and each shift in and out of camera focus, not looking at each other much. Cas can’t look at Dean at all in this scene, while Dean keeps sneaking glances at Cas. In other scenes, Cas does sneak looks at Dean. They are ridiculous and my heart hurts. The blocking here is them facing each other only not--they are a few feet off, so looking past each other.

Cas sitting at that table, hands folded, staring straight ahead and working very hard obviously to Not Look at Dean. 

Dean’s reaction on Cas reporting the words Michael said, “I want you dead, get out.” The things Dean has said to Cas are coming back to haunt him, coming from the words of their once mortal enemy, that’s gotta sting.

Both Dean and Cas have some work to do here, but Dean definitely is already very aware his own words went too far, and has been for a while. 

“God lied to me. I loved him.” Oh wow that hurt, I didn’t expect these feelings. 

A thing about Adam and Michael, both feeling so abandoned by their families, and losing everyone. They offered support to each other. They worked out a time-share in Adam’s body. We’ve seen genuine vessel and angel bonds form before (in Lily Sunder). There’s also a S7 episode by Ben Edlund about the bond between a human and the demon who possessed him. Not sure how healthy Adam and Michael are, but they seem weirdly functional, and don’t despise each other and I kind of have some feelings about Adam and Michael bonding the way they did in The Cage. Perhaps Michael shielded Adam from the worst of it. It’s how Adam is coherent after being down there for so long. Maybe Adam made Michael less lonely. Did I ASK for feelings about Adam and Michael, no I did nOT and yet here we are.

Then there’s Adam. It was interesting that scene where Sam acknowledges maybe they gave up too easily. Because Sam and Dean refuse to accept it when it’s each other they lose, and have gone way over the line to get the other one back. Here Sam is admitting that it shouldn’t be just for them. That Adam was worth saving. Even though they don’t know him well, he still didn’t deserve what happened (as Dean acknowledges at the end of the ep). And Sam and Dean never mentioning him again or giving him another thought apparently, all these seasons...well, that kind of made me assume that was that. Just because someone is blood, doesn’t make you family and they barely knew Adam. 

But if it’s someone who could potentially earn that? Someone basically good? And they just...forgot about him and left him to his torment in Hell? So this did need addressing. There’s not much time to develop a relationship with Adam and TFW this late in the game but there was a start here. 

Dean likewise offers his apology to Adam at the end. “You’re a good man. You didn’t deserve that.”

Right when I was thinking, so many of them don’t get what they deserve, they just keep getting Hell heaped on their heads, Adam says “Since when do we get what we deserve.”

There’s a subtle thing there where Adam looks at Cas, Cas very pointedly still tries to be not looking at Dean, and after Adam leaves Dean turns to Cas looking so...sorrowful for a moment. I keep saying, Dean and Cas deserve each other, and right now they can’t figure how to have each other. 

But Michael left them a strange gift. The Leviathan flower, to seal away Chuck, but the gift has a double meaning (unintentionally on Michael’s part). It’s not just the tool to shut away the villain, Michael opens a door to Purgatory and boom just like that, opens up a whole doorway on Dean and Cas’s story because of the emotional significance of Purgatory for them. What they had there. What happened there. The way that place broke loose some of their feelings. I’m not sure what’s going to happen now, if they both go, as the promo glimpses seem to suggest, does one return and the other gets trapped? Is Dean’s prayer to Cas going to be inside Purgatory, is Cas also still in Purgatory and they get separated? Is being thrown together back into that environment going to help them heal? Or will they be torn apart again but that provides another route to reconciliation?

[winchester-ofthe-lord]

Yes, it’s vegetable lasagna (with a side of gummy bears)

hey guys, I made a thing :)  

this was for a friend’s Valentine’s challenge and I really had a blast writing it, so I hope you enjoy :) please feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think <3

pairing: Sam Winchester/Gabriel

word count: 3.9k ish

warnings: all the fluff for my bunker boys

read on ao3 

When he realizes that he’s been staring at the same sentence for the last seven minutes and that he still doesn’t understand the deeper meaning behind the blurry vortex of single letters, he doesn’t even have the energy to stifle his yawn anymore.

He stretches his weary arms over his head, finally releasing some of the tension in his neck muscles. An elongated, squeaky moan escapes his mouth. Sam chuckles to himself, glad that nobody is around to hear him make the sound of a dying moose.

With a dull thump, he snaps the heavy tome in front of him shut and decides to take a break from his research session on Transylvanian lore.

He gets up from his seat at the library table and heads towards the bunker’s kitchen.

While still in the hall he can already hear his brother’s muffled voice. Apparently, Dean’s talking to someone on the phone, seemingly entirely absorbed in the conversation.

The second he catches sight of Sam who quickly nods his head in a silent greeting and mouths a questioning “Who?” towards the phone, Dean- yeah, Dean downright jerks and almost drops his phone while he hastily ends the call.

He seems to be trying for a nonchalant look, but he rather resembles a startled toddler who got caught with his hands in the cookie jar.

“Hiya Sammy,” he gets out, at last, accompanied by a nervously affected, toothy grin.

Sam can’t help but snort a laugh at the sight of his obviously flustered brother.

“Am I interrupting something?” Sam asks with an arched eyebrow. “You weren’t having phone sex with Cas again, were you?” Both eyebrows now wiggling teasingly.

Before Dean even gets the chance to deny this blunt accusation, a confused deep voice interrupts him.

“Who’s having phone sex with me?” Cas walks directly up to Dean, gives him a peck on the cheek and a curious smile. He casually slides his arm around the hunter’s waist and pulls him into a gentle side hug. Dean instinctively leans into the embrace, puts an arm over Cas’s shoulders and turns his head to give his angel a kiss to the temple. He lets his forehead rest there for a moment, nudges his nose into the soft, dark hair above Cas’s ear and grins.

Much to Sam’s displeasure, Dean doesn’t whisper the following answer quietly enough, and he overhears his brother speak in the angel’s ear, “you know exactly that we only need to have phone sex when one of us is not in the bunker. Why would I have to call you when last night we-"

“EW! No. Stop it. Please!” Jack yells when he enters the room, hands clutching at his own ears, so he doesn’t have to hear his dads talking about…well, that.

Sam has never been more grateful for the appearance of the nephilim before. He gives Jack an apologetical look of commiseration and clears his throat.

“So, who were you talking to, then?” he asks his brother in an attempt to change the topic.

Once again Sam watches how Dean becomes nervous and uncomfortable, though this time not as bad as before, for he’s still safely wrapped in angel arms.

“Yes, Dean, who were you talking to?” Castiel asks in an accusatory tone and turns his head to look his hunter in the eyes. He even sounds a little hurt that he was not privy to this information.

He cocks his head and stares at Dean intensely, one of his eyebrows raised in question. The hunter answers with a similarly intense gaze, eyes wide open, as if he wants to say, Dude, you know exactly what I mean. After several seconds of exchanging glances in awkward silence, something in the angel’s brain seems to click into place and he gives a very slow, understanding affirmative nod.

“Okay, I’m clearly missing something here, but you know what? I don’t even want to know.” Sam says and shakes his head, smiling to himself.

Suddenly Sam turns around to face Jack and raises an admonitory finger. “Hey Mister, what do you think you’re doing there? Dinner’s in an hour, you know that.” The young man freezes instantly, midway into pouring cereal into his bowl. His eyes dart to Dean and Cas, silently pleading for their help.

“Uhm. Uhh… yeah, well. I won’t be here for dinner today. I have…other plans.” Jack stutters, the box of cereal in his hand still hovering above the bowl.

Before Jack’s brain suffers a total failure, Dean steps in, “yeah, um…actually, we all do. Cas, Jack and I wanted to go to the movies tonight. And well, we know you’re not that much into action hero stuff, so we didn’t even bother asking you if you wanna join us.”

From the corner of his eye, Sam sees Jack shoving a spoonful of Cookie Crunch into his mouth before disappearing with the entire bowl in the direction of his room. How he manages to eat cereal while walking – without spilling anything – remains a mystery to the three remaining men in the kitchen. Especially considering Jack’s talent for making an even bigger mess when eating than Dean.

Dean, Cas and Sam all gaze equally impressed after the nephilim, until Cas mumbles, “maybe we should always have him eat his food while walking,” which makes the two brothers burst into laughter.

Upon catching his breath, Dean grabs Cas’s hand and gives it a light tug, “Come on, Cas, we got 20 minutes before we have to leave and we still haven’t finished…” Luckily, this time Dean actually whispers the next words unintelligible enough, as he leans into his angel while they leave Sam behind in the kitchen.

Sam still chuckles slightly when he remembers something. “Hey guys!” he starts to shout in their direction, "have any of you seen Gabe? He wanted me to"-- the sound of a door being shut could be heard in the depths of the bunker --"meet him here." He murmurs disapprovingly under his breath, "Thanks for the help.”

He walks over to the fridge, opens it and reaches for a beer when suddenly he feels two hands poking him in the ribs. Fortunately, he hadn’t grabbed the bottle yet; otherwise, he probably would have dropped it.

“Surpriiiise,” the startled man hears a playful sing-song from right behind him, and the two hands clasp around his waist.

Sam takes a sharp inhale and pants with feigned rage, “goddammit, Gabriel! You want me to have a heart attack?!” In one swift motion, he turns in the arms of his attacker and closes the fridge door. He looks down at the shit-eating grin of his goofy angel boyfriend.

“Aw, I am sorry, moose-boy. How can I possibly make up for this near-death experience or yours?” Gabriel sneers at him, winking through dark lashes.

At that Sam can’t help himself but mirror the grin and lean down to give his angel a tender hello kiss.

Gabriel hums contentedly, “Mmh, feel better now?”

“Much,” Sam replies with a pleased smile and lets his big hands wander from the angel’s shoulders down to his ribs. They skim along his hips, grasp firmly at his thighs and lift him up, where Gabriel immediately wraps his legs around Sam’s waist.

Sam carries his boyfriend over to the kitchen counter, trailing kisses along his neck, and sets him down on the countertop. One of his hands fiddles with the hem of Gabriel’s shirt, fingers seeking skin contact, while the other one finds his stubbled jaw.

A moan escapes Gabriel’s throat when Sam starts to suck at his sweet spot right below his ear and mumbles a suggestive, hoarse, “You know, Dean and Cas are taking Jack to the movies tonight.. so, we've got the whole bunker to ourselves” into his ear.

The moment he tenderly bites down on his earlobe, Sam also brings a hand down towards the archangel's fly, and the startling noise of the zip snaps Gabriel back to reality.

“Stopstopstopstopstop right here, bucko,” Gabriel hinders Sam from going any further by placing his pointer finger on Sam’s smirking lips, “I’ve got other plans with you tonight.”

The taller man takes a step back, a little surprised that Gabe of all people turns down a spontaneous make-out session with him. Sam quirks a quizzical eyebrow. “Oh, do you? What kind of plans are we talking about?”

“Just wait and see, Samsquatch,” he says and hops down from the counter. “You gotta be patient for at least another hour until I’ve made all the necessary preparations.”

“Necessary...preparations?” Sam snorts, leaning back against the kitchen island opposite to his boyfriend and folding his arms on his chest. “Well, now I’m really curious. What are you up to this time, Gabe?”

A self-complacent smile forms on the angel’s face. “Preparations! And now stop this--” he points his index finger at Sam’s expression, “--confused frown you’re making there. We don’t want your pretty face to get stuck like that, do we?”

“Gabriel--”

But the archangel already poofed away into thin air. Awesome.

And once again, Sam is left alone in the kitchen, looking like the proverbial moose caught in headlights.

What the hell is going on with everyone today?

He opens the fridge again, grabs the beer Gabriel stopped him from taking before and decides that he so does not care that everyone apparently made plans without him. Let them.

Sam heads back towards the library where he sits down at his previous spot once again and takes a sip of his beer. While the others are having fun, he’ll just keep looking for possible causes for the numerous young girls who drowned in the area over the last few weeks.

His research so far has led him to an ancient Transylvanian myth about “bottomless lakes, which swallow people without ever returning them.” Though he’s not entirely sure if this story has anything to do with drowning girls in Kansas...

Nevertheless, he keeps reading, this time on his laptop, instead of the weighty book:

“Sometimes water is alive, and when it is, it asks for a dead man’s head.” This is what the elders of villages in the Maramures region believe; they are very sure that the lakes in the area sometimes require human sacrifices. There are several mountain lakes with dark legends, each of which is called an iezer.

Fifteen minutes pass quickly, while Sam reads about sunken churches, lakes that swallowed guests at a wedding, a hidden vortex able to drown even the most skilled swimmers and much more.

However, none of it helps him in the slightest.

His beer’s empty by now and he runs a hand over his tired face when he hears Dean coming into the room.

“Hey Mister Research, did you find anything on the water corpses?” he asks, nodding towards the article on the laptop screen.

Sam sighs deeply and shakes his head, “nope, at least I know now that it’s got nothing to do with water nymphs, Transylvanian dead-man’s-head-eating lakes or Nessie.” He pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger and closes his eyes for a few seconds.

“Uh...okay? Well, I just wanted to let you know that we’re heading out to the movies now.” his brother tells him. “And don’t wait for us, we’re probably gonna grab a late dinner afterwards. At this new Italian restaurant-- you know, the one I told you about last week?”

“Yeah, I remember. But make sure Jack gets a salad just for once, okay? The boy needs something healthy every once in a while.”

“Uh...sure. You have fun with...Ariel.” Dean briefly raises his hand to wave goodbye and leaves the library again, lightly chuckling to himself.

Jerk.

Shaking his head at his oh so funny brother, Sam clicks on the next online article, and it doesn’t even take two whole minutes until he’s completely absorbed in his research again.

He’s so engrossed in the words in front of him that he doesn’t hear the slight rustling in the air right behind his back. This might be the reason why he literally jumps when all of a sudden his view on the screen is entirely obscured.

The action is accompanied by a playfully melodic “Guess who!” which makes it even more startling.

“GABRIEL! Seriously, what the fuck!” Sam forcefully pulls the two hands down and away from his eyes, “I swear to God--”

“Hey! Keep my old man out of this!” Gabriel chuckles amusedly and walks around Sam’s chair, trying to get his hands out of the tight grasp.

He manages to get one hand free, pushes the laptop closed, gestures Sam to move back with his chair a little bit and then sits down to straddle his lap.

“You were saying?”

“I was saying,” he emphasizes, “ if you keep giving me heart attacks like this, one of us might die under mysterious circumstances.” He leans against the back of his chair to look reproachfully at the man on his lap.

With a smug smirk on his face, Gabriel replies, “Well, then it’s a very good thing one of us in an archangel. Death shouldn’t be much of a problem.” He winks at Sam who huffs out a laugh.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that? Anyway, have you made all your ‘necessary prep’-- wait...are you wearing a suit?” he grabs the angel by his shoulders and holds him at arm’s length to get a better look at him, “Gabe, what’s going on?”

Gabriel shifts uncomfortably in Sam’s lap and feigns ignorance.

“Huh? What do you mean ‘what’s going on’ - nothing’s going on?”

Sam stops the angel from wriggling about on his lap by holding him in place by his hips and throws his most judging bitch face at him. (Don’t fuck with me, angel-boy.)

Two placating hands slide in between the two men. “Easy there, Chewbacca. Why would--”

“Gabe, you’re wearing a suit,” he chuckles at the rare sight of his boyfriend in fancy clothing, “that’s not something I see every day. And then Dean was strangely secretive about a phone call earlier, he wouldn’t even tell me who he was talking to. Plus, he skipped our weekly family dinner - to go out with Mister I-thought-it-would-be-polite-to-tell-her-she-has-Syphilis and their man-child who asks random people if they liked nougat too. And sweetie,” Sam raises an eyebrow again and laughs, giving Gabriel a once-over, “you’re wearing a SUIT.”

Gabriel glances down at himself with mock offendedness, clutches one of his hands at his chest and dramatically gasps for air.

At the amused look of expectancy he receives from Sam the angel heaves a frustrated sigh, rolls his eyes and lets his head fall back.

“Jeeez, why can’t these stupid imbeciles follow even the simplest of orders and lie low for just this once…” Gabriel mutters under his breath and pushes himself up from Sam’s thighs.

He walks a few steps away, turns on his heels with a sigh and shrugs nonchalantly.

Slowly pacing back towards Sam he starts, “Well, Samantha, I had originally planned this to be a surprise, but looks like there’s absolutely no chance that anything goes according to plan when you Winchesters are involved.” He reaches out a hand for Sam who takes it hesitantly and lets himself get pulled up. “And now that the cat’s out of the bag, we might as well just skip the part where I have to convince you to follow me and jump to the last step of my, I have to admit, apparently not that well-wrought plan.”

All of a sudden Sam’s hand starts to tingle where it touches Gabriel’s, and the air around them shimmers for a brief moment.

In the fraction of a second, Sam finds himself outdoors, under the night sky. Gabriel lets go of his hand and steps away once more.

The bunker’s rooftop - Sam realizes after he cast a quick glance around - is dimly lit by fairy lights and… floating lanterns? When he looks past Gabriel, towards the forest, he sees blinking fireflies, tiny, glowing dots in the darkness. Hears the chirping of cicadas.

The sky above him is covered in countless stars and in between them are bright dancing lights, cloaking the air in bands of color. The vibrant shades of the not-so-Northern Lights were in perpetual motion, flowing and changing from pale green to yellow, red, violet, blue and back to green. It was unmistakably resembling a giant glowing rainbow.

Sam’s state of mind can be described as a weird mixture of total amusement due to the very cheesy setting and at the same time being completely baffled and speechless.

He slowly lowers his amazed gaze, mouth slightly agape, and finds Gabriel’s eyes already looking at him in eager anticipation. Gabriel looks unusually sheepish. Actually, Sam’s pretty sure he’s never seen his boyfriend this timid and insecure before.

“Do you- Do you like it, Sam?” the smaller man stammers.

At that, Sam snorts loudly, “Sam? Since when do you call me by my actual name? Who are you and what have you done with my cheeky little Trickster boyfriend?”

“Okay, first of all? I call you ‘Sam’ all the time. And sec--”

“You only ever use my real name when I’m not around!” Sam interrupts with a hearty laugh. He probably shouldn’t find it so funny that Gabriel is obviously suffering, but he really does.

“This isn’t--” Gabriel harrumphs with frustration, “This is not the point here. The point is that- uh- goddammit, Sam! I’m trying to be romantic here, don’t make this so hard.”

Sam is struggling really hard now to suppress his laughter. But he won’t let Gabe get away that easy. Also, this might be the first time anyone has rendered him speechless, so Sam’s gotta make the most of it.

“You? You wanna be romantic. That so?” he gets out, at last, biting his cheeks to avoid another grin.

Gabriel looks at him defiantly, “Yes, me. Romantic!” The touchy archangel pouts and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

When Sam realizes that his boyfriend is completely serious, he walks up to him, reaches his hand out and grabs one of Gabriel’s wrists. He’s still slightly chuckling when he pulls the angel into his arms.

Sam nuzzles his nose into Gabriel’s hair and says, “I’m sorry, Gabriel. I really like what you did with the roof. It looks amazing. And your suit?” he lets go of his man to take a proper look at him. “You look amazing in it, too.” He smiles at him wholeheartedly and the angel seems to relax a bit.

“So, this is what your necessary preparations were for? Or is there something else?” Sam says, still smiling at Gabriel, who seems to have finally regained his sass again.

“Well, bucko-- if you’d rather I didn’t call you Sam-- as it happens, there actually is something else.”

With a snap of his fingers, the archangel reveals a small, round table, covered in a white tablecloth. Three long, red taper candles create a dim and shimmering atmosphere around the table and the two chairs facing one another. Two carefully arranged plates are already filled with what seems to be lasagna. There’s an open wine bottle and two half-full glasses next to each plate.

“Before you ask, yes, it’s vegetable lasagna,” Gabe says with a content smile.

Sam stares at the table, utterly stunned. He keeps looking back and forth between Gabriel and the steaming, appetizing dish...and then he notices the side of gummy bears in a little bowl.

“Gabe--” he begins, but apparently this is all he can get out in his dumbfounded state.

The angel takes the chance and begins in an unusually serious tone, “Sam, I never thought I’d ever be truly happy,” he looks straight into his human’s eyes. “I’ve been living for a very long time now and I’ve spent countless years of this time here on Earth ever since I...left Heaven...since I...ran away... I- I just couldn’t watch Michael and Lucifer tear at each other’s throats anymore. Couldn’t bear their cruelty, their--,” he huffs disparagingly, “their inhumanity. So I hid.” He glances at the floor, carefully considering what to say next.

“When I became the Trickster, I spent my time with game-playing. Stupid, pathetic games causing a lot of people-- good people-- to die. Or even worse... Sam, I’d lost my path. I ran away from cruelty, only to become cruel myself. Over time I’ve grown too mischievous. Gruesome. I’ve done some really...terrible things.”

Sam watches the archangel attentively. Absorbs every single word that seems to take a lot out of Gabriel to even say out loud. Hell, to even admit all these things to himself must’ve been excruciating…

Still staring at the floor between them, Gabriel takes a deep breath before he continues, “but that was before I met you.”

He slowly raises his head and locks eyes with Sam once again, an earnest smile tugging at his lips.

“You and your dumb brother made me realize that I have free will, too. That I can choose my own fate. That, despite my flaws, I can still try and do better. That, one day… I might even be forgiven.” His voice is slightly shaking on the last words. He swallows loudly, not breaking eye-contact with Sam.

“You even showed me that, no matter how much I enjoyed my Kielbasa experiences, there’s more to life than Casa Erotica.” Both men burst into a laugh at this memory and Gabriel’s face lightens up again, his usual easy-going nature back on his face and in his body.

“Sam, all of the things I did were just futile attempts at filling the empty space in my heart. And thanks to you I know that now.

“Because you are the one who filled this empty space. You are everything I never knew I even needed to be happy. And I know I probably don’t deserve this,” he tensely glances down to his hands and tries to gather all his courage to get out the next words, “nevertheless, I thought I’d let you know that I’d love nothing more than spending the rest of your life together with you.”

Gabriel heaves a relieved sigh, apparently pleased, and maybe even a little surprised at himself, that the words actually left his mouth.

He’s still eyeing his own hands and now Sam can see why:

A small, black, velvety box appears in the angel’s palm, but before Sam even gets the chance to have any kind of reaction, his boyfriend steps right in front of him. Only a few inches separate Gabriel’s bright, radiant hazel eyes and his loving smile from Sam’s face.

“This is the point where I’d go down on one knee...but I’m afraid I might completely disappear from your sight if I did that now, Gigantor.” He smirks at Sam’s touched, though at the same time awkwardly amused expression.

“So, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer asking this next question standing up.”

He pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts. Opens the small box with shaking fingers and reveals a thin, silver ring.

“Sam, I love you. More than I ever thought I could love anyone.” He closes his eyes for a second. Inhales deeply.

“Sam Winchester, will you marry me?”

In an instant, Gabriel's lips were met by Sam's, kissing the shy, insecure smile away.

The archangel pulls away from his hunter, tentatively searching for his eyes, “is...is that a ‘yes’?”

Sam’s face softens. He smirks before leaning into the next kiss, grinning against his fiancé’s lips, “That’s a ‘yes’!”

[cherry3point14]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies

Pairing: Dean x Witch!Reader

Prompt: Imagine being a former BMoL and powerful natural witch, who over the years has fallen in love with Dean, and to save him from the Mark, you transfer it on yourself - thus tying yourself to the Darkness, and forcing Dean to finally come clean with his feelings and propose to you before it's too late. By the brilliant @assassinofmasyaf

Words: 9,490.

Warnings: Like there’s a little angst, I’m sorry magic is angsty. A tiny bit of fluff, I’m not a monster.

A/N: Fic 2 of my follower celebration! This got away from me a little. I mean the lies, the heartache. It’s all too much. I’mma cutch my pearls and go lie down.

Ao3 link if you prefer.

The earth feels like fire beneath you and air has been replaced by water. Everything around you is wrong, muddled, confused by the doubt that taints this decision. Spellwork requires clarity of mind and surety of spirit but the road you’ve traveled has not been paved with either.

It’s been a path forged out of lies and secrets.  

Your body is humming against the power that surrounds you, not with it. You know you’ll need to right yourself before you’ll be able to do this, and you have to do this. There’s no scenario where you don’t do this for him.

Where you were on knees, leaning forward with your palms spread out in the dirt you force yourself to sit back on your heels. Your hands flat against your thighs as you adjust your spine until your posture is as straight as an arrow. A lightning rod against the ground. You need to be the attracting force in the universe.

Each rise and fall of your chest is a commune with the energy that envelops you. Every intake of air you use to clear your mind of distractions. Every exhale you use to expel the negative forces from your body completely.

It takes time, minutes or maybe longer. You don’t rush or try to speed the process. You only have one opportunity to get this right, falling short at this stage would be disastrous. Apocalyptic even. No. It cannot be rushed. It has been some time since you attempted to command power of this magnitude, but you know that you are capable. The magic is not something that has left you, or ever will, and your suppression of it does not make you less than. If it takes you longer than you would expect to be ready, then so be it, as long as it is done right.

Your eyes close as your mind becomes settled and focused. When you open them again the sky is showing the first signs of sunset, splashes of pink and red painted in broad strokes against the fading blue. The setting sun feels like work of your own hand and that’s when you know that you are ready. When nature becomes yours and you become its.

The mark calls to you still. Even from your distance, its existence is like a beacon. Good. Rowena has not been able to finish what she thinks she can start. No good can come from the book of the damned and the mark of Cain must not be destroyed lest it awakens the original evil. Rowena is a fool or so blinded by her own self-service that she’s ignoring the cost. Either way, it cannot be left in her hands to deal with.

Your body rolls forward until you’re in the same position you began in. Hands spread over the ground, body folded in a semblance of prayer. Not to god, to the magic that you serve. You are ready now. Everything is where it should be like a neatly stacked shelf of books.

This time when you sit up your body is relaxed. Shoulders hanging low in a moment all your own before you make this sacrifice.

You pick up the bag next to you filled with all the ingredients you need. Rowena and Sam, even Cas, are all looking for impossible things because what they are trying to do should be impossible. There’s a reason why it should not be done. Everything you needed was easy to procure. Most of it was already in the bunker, the Men of Letters from any continent liked to keep ingredients on hand. The rest are not ingredients but connections. Something of Deans and something of yours.

The strongest connection is forged by blood and the memory of how you got Dean’s fills you with shame. With a straight back and a few deeper breaths it eases away, but you need to avoid allowing yourself to become clouded distractions. You remind yourself of your justifications, he will understand in time and if he doesn’t then it won’t matter. You will have saved him and maybe the world. For once it will be you who makes the sacrifice.

Perhaps this will be your final atonement for your sins. Not that you will pretend to be doing this to ease your soul. You’re driven by the love of a good man. A force which has guided so many of your decisions. The bond is strong and uniquely your own. It may be unrequited but it’s still unyielding.

The wind begins to pick up around you as you place the bowl in front of you, whipping faster with each ingredient placed inside. As if the air itself knows that you should be protected while you work. It’s enough to allow the smallest curve of your lips and the faintest glow of pride in your chest. You are doing what is right, what must be done.

You begin to lowly chant words to summon the necessary power while you pour Dean’s blood into the concoction. The ground begins to vibrate beneath you in response. Here, it says. Take the power you need. It charges you like electricity through every nerve in your body.

The sky is stained much deeper now, gone are the soft colors replaced with violent hues of oranges and burgundy. Almost deep enough to match the crimson that seeps from you as you sink your knife into your palm, and then the other. Allowing both weeping hands to rain your own blood into the bowl as the final ingredient.

You speak the spell clearly into the coming night knowing that it comes faster for you.

“Ab manu sanguine hoc viro. Hoc sanguis meus. Maledictionem ad mutare. At eadem manere.”

For a moment there is nothing, even the air freezes, halting every blade of grass in the field where you sit. Everything falls silent. You’re not sure your muscles could twitch if you tried. The darkness that sweeps over you is a falsehood, you can sense the day behind it still, but your spell has created this. Or stolen it rather. Your spell has borrowed everything it needs, light, air, sound.

A clap of thunder is the first noise to break the nothingness. Then a flash of lightning. Finally, a gust of wind with the force of a millennia years old curse knocks you onto your back.

Your flesh sears. It bubbles and burns. It would be agony if it wasn’t so exquisite. Because it worked. Your relief is overwhelming enough to mask the pain. The mark is taking its place on your arm, on your soul, and you will bear it. You will use your power to keep the curse safe.

Or, if this turns out to be the last thing you ever do, then at least you have freed Dean.

When your eyes snap open again, not that you remember closing them, you’re looking up at the tranquil pinks of dusk again. You bring your hands in front of your face in time to see the cuts heal without a spell. The mark has protected you.

When you do look at your left arm, where the mark has chosen to imprint itself, the skin is raised and red, but you quickly realize your fist is clenched holding the muscle taught. With a few deep breaths, again, your fingers unfurl, and your arm relaxes. The mark doesn’t go away but the color pales a little.

It’s not that you think you’re better than Dean it’s just you think you can control the side effects with your powers, the powers that he is only acutely aware of. You simply think you have a better chance.

Oh. And you love him obviously. Love will make an idiot do anything. Give up her career. Sign her own death sentence. Take the mark of Cain from the object of her affections.

When you make it back to the car you borrowed from the bunker garage there is a multitude of missed calls on your phone. Sam, Dean and strangely one from Crowley. You didn’t even know he had your number, but you supposed everyone needs an antagonist, what would life be if yours couldn’t reach you?

Dean is the first one you call back. It rings through to his voicemail. Hearing his voice, even a recording, makes your body flush.

You call Sam next, you need to tell him to stop whatever he’s trying but his phone also rings through to his voicemail. Him you leave a message, strict instructions not to let Rowena try anything.

It’s with a deep sigh that you finally call Crowley of all people but another voicemail. His recorded message wasting time to include several claims as to his position as hell’s king.  

It seems impossible that they are all out of range. Then it dawns on you. Maybe you are.

That’s when your body slumps across the front seat.

You don’t open your eyes this time. They were already open, you just weren’t behind them. You sit up letting out a shuddering breath as you roll your shoulders against the seat. The nature of your collapse leads to believe that your body didn’t need rest, your magic did.

This time when you pick up your phone and dial, Dean answers.

He starts talking without the formalities of greetings. “I’ve been trying to call you, the mark…”

Your laughter interrupts him, it’s unexpected and fills up the car, “it’s gone? It’s really gone?”

He was free. Even before he confirmed it you could tell just by the lightness in his voice. You had him back, your Dean.

“Yeah, how did you… what did you do?”

Normally a question like that you’d quip with him. Teasingly ask him why he assumes you did something. Instead, you let your laughter die to promise earnestly, “you’re ok. I’m handling it.”

“Y/N.” His tone is warning but it’s after seeing him at his worst, with the mark, it’s nothing in comparison.

Sam is in the background and although you don’t make out what he says you hear that he’s agitated.

“What’s happening there? Where are you?” Your concern always with them.

“Don’t worry about us, we’re in this restaurant and I think I-”

The line goes dead forcing worry to ebb at you. Suddenly there’s no time for tamping down your powers to hide them anymore. Urgency pushes you forward as you get out of the car, hopefully, Dean will forgive you for leaving it. With two feet planted firmly on the road, you recite the words, waiting for the ground to change beneath you.

Teleportation is always a tricky master and being out of practice at that level probably makes you prone to mistakes. You’d asked to be taken to Dean, but the literal translation of the spell was ‘home of my heart’ so, it's only a small surprise when you open your eyes and find yourself standing in the bunker.

It’s quiet and peaceful despite the state of the place. The books still piled high ready to be burnt and the furniture strewn about without care.

Your fingers graze the edge of a table in the library as the last conversations in this room enter your head. How you’d begged Sam to stop, told him that he couldn’t, shouldn’t, do what he’s trying to. You’d find another way. Of course, he hadn’t believed you. He had no idea what you were capable of. And Dean, so broken after Charlie and the Stynes that his rage was unparalleled. Watching him walk out while Cas sat bloody and beaten had been your breaking point and you’d known then, with the threats he spat for you all, what needed to be done.

It’s an effort to quell the spark of anger that surges through you at those memories now. You’d have to make a spell for that, experiment until you could create something to control the unruly waves of violence.

It had been years since you’d played with magic like this. Dean and Sam knew you were a witch and since you’d gained their trust before revealing that side of you they’d been shockingly accepting. Although you feared that was only since they didn’t know the extent of your powers. You’d forced yourself into years of minor tricks. Never commanding the arts like you knew you were able to. They simply never questioned how easily you performed any spell they asked of you.

A part of you had feared that if they saw your real power they might think you too dangerous to allow your freedom. That you were the kind of witch they’d kill without question.

Not that it mattered anymore. What was the phrase? In for a penny, in for a pound. You couldn’t undo any of it now. They’d find out soon enough, there was no hiding what you’d done.

Admittedly acceptance of your situation felt like shedding a heavy blanket that you’d been trapped under. Throwing off a thick material and feeling fresh, cool air again. You could feel the crackle of your power under your skin, so grateful for its freedom, so relieved.

There’s a groan from somewhere that startles you out of your thoughts. You walk towards it unthinking of the possible danger. The fact that people have been here destroying and pillaging, and that there could be more of them, doesn’t concern you or even enter your head. Worry only etches into your features when you see who it is. Cas, broken again, like he’d been when Dean… but he’d healed from that. You’d seen him heal so this must be new, different.

“Help me,” falls from his lips in a voice so soft that you wouldn’t believe the sound came from him if you weren’t looking into his face as he said it.

Falling to your knees next to him and shushing him you put your hand to his face. Magic flows around his head. Not angelic anything but spellwork. You can taste it on the back of your tongue. The bitterness of the attack spell makes you sneer.

“What happened?”

“Rowena.”

Of course. She must be free and worse than that, you’d be willing to bet the farm that she has the book. Fury coursed through you unencumbered this time. Fast and unwavering. You fall back from Cas for a moment making a physical effort to beat it into submission as the familiar sound of the bunker door sounds out.

“So, you think Y/N. had something to do with it?”

“I don’t know, she knew Sammy. She knew it was gone and you said yourself Rowena didn’t finish the spell.”

“Sam? Dean?” As you stand up from where Cas is you see them putting bags down. Both of their faces melt into softened smiles at the sight of you making your heart ache for what you heard, and what you still have to tell them.

Their boots thud as they both close the gap to meet you, but you raise a hand to stop them where they are. It takes a substantial effort to not use magic to keep them in place, your abilities being primed at the tips of your fingers and begging to be used. “Stop, Cas is…”

You don’t need to finish because they both boggle at the angel lying at your feet.

Only after they’ve lifted him and placed him into a seat in the library do they both return to you, taking it in turns to wrap their arms around you.

Sam is pulling away and whispering about the mark being gone even though Rowena never finished when Dean’s voice reminds you of the short sleeves of your shirt.

“What the hell did you do?”

Dean had been so angry you’d needed to keep a hand on your arm to remind yourself that he didn’t still have the mark of Cain.

It only made him worse when your defense pretty much revolved around repeating the words, “I saved you.”

He told you he had been handling it and he had a plan. Sam pointed out that his plan was outer space and you filled the questions about that away for another time.

“You weren’t handling it. You weren’t you anymore.” Your words are a whisper. Not because you’re scared but because it’s taking all of your strength not to lash out. His tone is like catnip to the mark as if it recognizes it’s former host. It’s pulsing away on your arm begging you to fight back.

“Y/N, how did you even? We’d spent months looking for the book of the damned, working on it…” Sam is patient. You’re not sure if it’s the mark or your own guilt that makes you hear the end of his sentence despite him trailing off.

Charlie died for that book. The elephant in the room. It’s going to make your admission so much worse.

“I created a spell. A transfer was easier.”

Dean seems to quiet down but then his brow creases, he’s not calm he’s confused. “Created a spell? You’ve never done more than simple stuff before. Even Rowena needed the book.”

Anyone who’s ever tried to write Dean off as nothing but a trained soldier has never seen a moment like this. They've never seen him work something out before anyone else in the room.

For once you can’t bring yourself to watch the realization as he makes it. You normally love seeing his face light up when he has an answer. For how Dean treats self-deprecation like a hobby, the moment he works something out was the complete opposite. It was pure confidence and you usually reveled in watching a moment of genius smooth out his features before it would achingly fade away.

Except for this time, it would be your end. This was the moment he was either going to hate you or kill you. So, you keep your eyes on the floor instead.

“Y/N. How did you do it?” The flat tone is enough to tell you he that’s not what he’s asking. He’s asking how powerful you are.

There aren’t words left or at least no way to answer him. There’s no fitting description. There’s not a yardstick you can measure against. So, you get up out of your chair and walk calmly over to Cas. You sit on the table in front of him while he grips the arms of his chair tight, doubled over in pain as he fights the magic inside of him.  

With your hands cupping his cheeks you bring his eyes to yours and speak, “ad officium consummatum est.”

“Cas?” The word you’ve heard Dean say so many times before stings like a cut and almost breaks your concentration. He asks it in that worried way of his, endless concern in one syllable. As if you would hurt Castiel, your friend, any more than you’d hurt Sam or him.

Cas shakes in your grip although it’s not as violent as you expect. You keep your hands tight on him, your focus on ensuring the spell leaves his system. His eyes clamp shut with a final grunt and when they snap back open his pale blue irises widen impossibly.

Ah, the angel has caught up as well.

None of them move or even blink, as you slide off of the table and back away some steps. “I’m going to go and wait in my room and let you talk. If you decide you want me to leave I’ll go. I won’t- I would never hurt you.”

Your eyes are boring into Dean’s with the last sentence like you could tell him with a look how very true it is. How everything you do, everything you’ve done, is to stop him from hurting. Because the world needs him almost as much as you do.

You’d seen pictures of both Winchesters in the extensive briefings and endless case files you’d read. These two hunters had apparently stopped the end of the world. The sentence was ridiculous to even think. Hunters are barely more than muscle, they’re the dancing monkeys to your organ grinders.

Except you had to stop thinking like that. You’re part of the first wave on this god forsaken continent and you have the most important role of anyone in this recolonization project. You had to get close to and gather intel on the Winchesters. Apparently, they’re the key to this whole thing whether they realise it or not. Get the Winchesters and get America.

You thought it was obvious why you’d got the job. Your rank and abilities. However, with the way Dean Winchester looks you up and down, even from a distance, you fear that maybe you were selected for a more primitive reason.

It certainly didn’t help change your opinion that hunters were no more than upright apes.  

But there was the annoying fact that none of the pictures of him had quite done him justice. None of them had enough detail to see the freckles dusted over his nose and cheeks. Not one profile correctly captured the strength of his jaw. And, most audaciously, there was no picture taken close enough to highlight the green of those eyes. Even in this dimly lit cesspool with him sitting at the other end of this sticky bar they were striking, the colour reminded you of spring mornings back home.

Not that you were weak for that kind of thing. You weren’t weak for many things, there wasn’t room for weakness in the Men of Letters. And with the way you’d seen Dean drink so far you figure he wasn’t aware of that rule.

Today was only reconnaissance thankfully, no contact. You were dying to get out of the outfit you’d been given. Tight jeans and a tank top that had appeared to be child’s size before you managed to squeeze it over your head. And now that he looked about ready to get up and come and talk to you it meant you could finally leave. You push some money forward to the surly bartender and stand up. Slowly of course. If you had been chosen for less than professional reasons then you’d use all the tools at your disposal, popping your hip and flashing him a smile before you turn to the exit. An extra wiggle as you walk away.  

You knew the hunt they were in town for and tomorrow you’d ‘accidently’ meet them on their outing posing as a hunter yourself. Thus, would begin the slow and steady plan to win over the Winchesters. It had been decided much higher up than you that this was the best way to gain their trust. You just have to hope that you can pull this off. Although it would be quicker you know that planting memories is not always perfect. Sometimes trust is easier to earn the old-fashioned way.

To think that weeks ago your life was as normal as it got for you. You’d hunted a werewolf in Albany. Even though the mark on Dean’s arm had still been forefront in all of your minds the hunt itself had been so regular.

The car, the motel, the bad diner that didn’t know how to make a decent BLT. You and your boys. But now their conflicting voices could be heard even from your room. Not words exactly but the rumble of discussion.

You crossed your legs at some point and closed your eyes in an attempt to quiet your mind and silence the court that was in session.

He didn’t even know everything. None of them did. Not even Cas. You’d been careful over the years to never let the angel into your head, which itself is quite the feat. The number of times he’s offered to heal you after hunting injuries and you’d had to insist he didn’t waste his angel juice. The risk was too great that he might stumble over one of the many secrets you held on to so fiercely.

None of them knew how you came to be in their lives. The organization you used to answer to. The people that had probably added your face, your picture, to the Winchester files. Deceased it will say. The first agent to infiltrate them was wiped out. Knowing your superiors, they may even have tried to blame the boys. But if there’s one thing the British knew how to do it was repress. Stiff upper lip. It had been how you’d lived with yourself all these years. Repressing the truth and living a lie.

Eventually, the voices fade to nothing, but no one comes to tell you the verdict. You’re climbing the walls now, your bedroom more of a cell than a home. Tentatively you crack open your door but see no one in the hallway. Trying to remain as silent as possible, you creep back to the library you’d left them.

Straight away you can see Cas is gone. Where you don’t know. Away? Or resting somewhere in an empty room? He would be capable of leaving now that you’d removed the spell.

“I can hear you, sweetheart.”

His voice is thick with emotion and as you take enough steps to be in the room proper you see his hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey. After all these years and he’s still not found the answer he looks for in the golden liquid.

“Dean, I’m so-“

He silences you with a hand held up. Not the one holding his drink, of course, that’s currently engaged in tipping a hefty serving down his throat. You watch the length of his neck tighten and relax again as he swallows it down.

“You’re a witch.” It’s all he says. It’s dull and empty, but at least he’s speaking to you.

You take a step towards the table he’s sitting at but don’t sit down quite yet, you need to gauge the atmosphere first, “yes. Technically you knew I was a witch yesterday too. Just, you thought I was less powerful.”

Dean never had been one for technicalities, “and exactly how powerful are you?”

You shake your head at his second attempt to ask this, “there’s not a grading system. There are so many things that determine a witch’s capabilities.”

He snaps his head up to you meeting your eyes for the first time since you’ve come into the room. He looks tired and you hate to think that you’ve added to the lines at the corner of his eyes. The rest of his face is hard, steely, it’s his cut-the-crap stare.

“I’m a natural. We’re rare. I don’t know what else to tell you. I can do some things others can’t and vice versa.”

“Like take the mark of Cain with a spell you created yourself? No book of the damned or anything?”

You’re not sure what he’s more annoyed by, your magic or that you took the mark. It seems likely that it’s the former considering that Charlie died for the something they didn’t need, but then he grumbles, “what the fuck was you thinking?”

Somehow, it’s more antagonizing than any of the shouting that’s already happened today. The mark can sense the frustration behind it. The mark tells you that he thinks you’re pathetic, he thinks you’re stupid. It whispers right into your heart that he could never love you, never think of you like that, a witch and a liar.

Your hands curl into fists, nails cutting crescent shapes into your palms. You grind your teeth together in an attempt to stop the frustration welling up in your chest from exploding out your mouth. You can feel the scream in your throat vying to escape. He can see it too. He can see your struggle since until very recently he was the one fighting.

His face softens and his lips downturn, but he tries to help. He holds both hands up defensively as he rises from his chair at a glacial speed. “Y/N, just breathe sweetheart.”

“Shut up.” It’s barely your voice that says it for how deep it sounds.

His hands move back a little further in a silent affirmation.

All of the air getting to your lungs travels through those still gritted teeth, canines bared, and nose snarled.

“I’m going to leave now, and I will be back tomorrow.”

“It’s the middle of the night…”

You don’t need to mention your previous command for silence, the widening of your eyes does it for you.

“I will be back tomorrow.” Is all you repeat. The last of your resolve goes into closing your eyes and concentrating on a place. The motel a few towns over, the one with the late checkout and thick-ish walls. It doesn’t matter that Dean is right there or that he’ll only see you disappear without explanation.

It’s easy this time. No mistakes. Later you’ll wonder if that’s because of the mark, if it’s helping you somehow but for now, you simply admire landing directly into an empty room. A click of the lock and you’re checked in so to speak.

This time when you pull yourself cross-legged into the middle of the bed your hands clench your knees painfully while you try to mutter spells into the quiet of the room. As if you just need to find the right combination and everything will return to normal.

Progress report 36:

After the unsuccessful previous hunt, which required a necessary injury on my part, the Winchesters finally took me to what they call “the bunker” aka US01. As far as I have been able to tell US01 remains in a state of acceptable upkeep, however, I have been unable to check the priority rooms, 6, 15 or storage facility 3. Once I have accessed these locations of interest I will report back on the status of all artifacts as per briefing 12.

Yesterday D. Winchester offered me a permanent room in “the bunker”. I advised him I would consider this offer, to lessen any potential suspicion that an immediate acceptance might bring. It is my hope that with my current injuries I will be left alone with time to investigate some point within the next week.

The morning comes quickly since you don’t remember falling asleep. You wake up on your back, spread eagle over the bed. For the briefest of seconds, you don’t remember where you are or why you’re here. You weren’t on a hunt, you’d have changed at least.

The memory hits you square between the eyes. You’d wanted to hurt Dean. You’d teleported in front of him. Nausea rises from your gut and makes you run to the bathroom only to dry heave over the sink. How could you go home now? How could you call it your home at all?

You pace the room desperately hoping to find an answer in the peeling wallpaper and faded shag carpet. Unfortunately, there was only one conclusion the dated décor gave you.

You needed to leave them.

Maybe not as dramatically or murder-y as Dean had but you should leave. It was safer. Until you can find a way to control the mark. Especially since you gave the mark access to magic, no demon skills required.

It might even be good for you to get some time away. You hadn’t been apart from them since, well, since you moved in. There had been days here or there of course but meaningful distance? Not since you gave up the only life you’d ever known to be with them. To be with Dean.

You could say goodbye. It was the right thing to do. Say goodbye and explain. Assure them you’d be back, and everything would be fine. You’d take care of it. They’d let you leave too. If they hadn’t decided to kick you out before then you could be sure that they’re probably of that opinion now.

You’d bloody teleported in front of Dean.

You sink down onto the side of the bed and pick up the plastic phone handle that’s seen better days. Surprisingly there’s actually a dial tone and you punch in Dean’s number without even thinking.

“I know I don’t deserve it but please, can you come and get me?”

It would be impossible to erase your existence entirely. And from this distance. From so many people. Even for what you intended to do you’ve enlisted help. An item in the Men of Letters storage. Sam and Dean had no idea what it is, or for, they’ll never miss it. Its explanation will be buried in the archives somewhere and even then, its sole purpose is to concentrate magic.

You lied to them again. An old friend needed help on a hunt you’d said. They had offered to come with you, but you’d told them it would be fine, he didn’t like new people. You’re sure the look on Dean’s face at the mention of him was just suspicion.

Now you sit in this nice hotel room. The first one since England. Ever since you’d got here it was motels and then the bunker. Not that the bunker wasn’t nice, but these were Egyptian cotton sheets and comfort was a necessity right now.

There are several spells to work and it has to be tonight, or tomorrow morning as it currently is in England. They’re all together and won’t be again for another fortnight. You’re not sure you can keep up the pretense any longer.

The mirror you’ve balanced in front of you is faded like it’s dull with age, but the smoky quality is actually your tracking spell, locating the meeting. When they appear, you watch for a few minutes, making sure they’re all there, The Old Men. The only face you know is Doctor Hess from the academy, the others aren’t very public and until recently you were loyal to the rules that forbade your intrusion. Now you plan to tear those rules apart.

You’re using a revelation spell to lower their warding spells. They’re prepared for magical attacks, although they assume their enemies wouldn’t have the foresight to attack their warding first. They would never assume one of their own would use knowledge of the wardings against them.

It feels like it takes hours when in fact it’s minutes. Were you not on a tight schedule you might take some time to recover. You only have an hour though and the next spell will be the trickiest. Ten minds to alter. Ten memories to plant.

The mirror, which had lost its connection briefly, is alive with their faces again. They don’t seem aware of what is going on. So far so good.

“Memento fabulam. Memento fabulam. Haec sit vera. Super omnia. Verbum meum”

There is a flicker in the glass but nothing more. You repeat the spell, keeping the false memory you intend in the front of your mind. Holding the stone you’ve taken from the bunker wrapped in your hands. Pushing your power from your chest and forcing it to them, over land and sea through the link in the mirror. You don’t feel the blood trickle from the corner of your eyes, but you taste it on your lips while you chant over and over. The lights in the room start to crackle as you pull energy from around you until finally, you see them all react one by one. Doctor Hess presses the back of her hand to her forehead, another elder closes his eyes for a moment. All of them look as if they have a minor headache but that’s not what’s popped into their heads.

What’s appeared is the new truth you’ve put there. Of your death on a hunt. This project is too dangerous for an undercover agent.

The mirror shatters in front of you when it’s done. Hundreds of spider web cracks in the glass. The connection is broken. Their warding will repair itself now. In theory, they should never know what you’ve done.

There’s still more to do tonight. Your own protection, the glimmer spell you have designed to hide from prying organization eyes that may still be watching Sam and Dean. But all of that can wait because for one beautiful second, even with blood staining your cheeks and your lungs still gasping for air, you take a moment to appreciate that you’re actually free.

His voice had been laced with sleep on the phone, so it had been impossible to guess his reaction. He’d barely said more than a few gruff noises. Confirmation that he’d come to get you and that yes, he’d knew the motel you were talking about.

When you slip into the passenger seat he doesn’t say anything first. It only takes two minutes on the road for you to crack under the silent pressure.

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugs without looking at you, “take my advice, blanket apology everyone you know. ‘s easier.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as you reply, “maybe that was my blanket apology for you, ever think of that?”

This time he does tear his eyes from the road to take you in, and after a moment that feels like far too long to be safe while driving, he smiles. The kind that crinkles his eyes and warms your cheeks. If you could live in that moment, curl up in it and keep it forever, you’d give anything. You’d watch the world burn to stay looking at that smile. Or even if you couldn’t look at it, just to keep it on his face.

You’re a coward but you suppose Dean is too. Right now, anyway. You’re not mentioning leaving because then he has the drive back to convince you otherwise. If he wants you to stay that is. And he’s not mentioning the mark or your magic. Because then you have the drive back to apologize. Instead, you both fall into a comfortable silence. Hyper aware of each other and the things neither of you is saying but happy to live in this limbo.

What he’ll never understand is you can feel him. In this proximity, you know his soul. You don’t know why you can feel him without a physical connection, but you can, and you’ve always been able to. The black and decay caused by the mark. The deterioration. All gone. What’s left is the same thing you’d felt the first time you spoke. A soul heavy with burden but still so good. A soul almost as green in color as his eyes. That’s what you’d always known about Dean, the biggest secret you ever kept.

Dean could call himself dark, a murderer, a thousand other things. He could command the world to see what he thought he was, but you could see what he truly is. You can see the good, the selfless, the brave, the protector. Everything that was there before this curse ate away at him and everything that was still there now. It reinforces your decision to save him.

He pulls into park outside the bunker and huffs out a lung full of air still gripping the wheel, “so when you leaving?”

He’s not telling you, he’s asking, and the difference means everything.

“Today if I can. Until I can get this under control.”

You watch his eyes close and his lips struggle to put his words in order. “Death couldn’t do anything about that mark except send me away. You think you can stop it?”

It’s a good question. One that makes you sound conceited and power mad but it’s a good question.

“I can’t stop the mark, I mean, eventually it will turn me into a demon like Cain, like you were. I only think I can slow it down. Stop the violence and the anger. And maybe I’ll get a few decades. So long as it’s not you or Sam coming to kill me if I turn into a big bad. That’d be awkward.”

You’ve done your research on the this while trying to cure Dean. You know why the mark has to survive and you’re not willing to risk the darkness. All you want is a little time. As much as you can have living with the boys and saving as many people as you can. To give your life some meaning before you become one of them.

Maybe once you do turn you’ll be able to control it like Cain. Maybe. Or a natural witch turned knight of hell might be the end of the world. You’d have to find out when you get there.

He doesn’t laugh at your joke about them killing you, in fact, he leans forward, his forehead pressing against the wheel like he’s hurt. “You’re talking about becoming a demon sweetheart. Yesterday I found out you can freakin’ teleport and now you’re picking out china patterns for your holiday home in hell.”

Your nose wrinkles at the idea of living in hell. “Someone has to bear it and it was killing you, Dean. I think I can make it kill me slower. It’s worth a try.”

“Stay.” He whispers into the space between your heartbeats.

“What? I can’t. This magic is dangerous. I might be dangerous.”

“Then you should stay. Keep it inside the bunker. We can keep you safe.” He’s looking at you this time, imploring you with his lips barely parted and his eyes bright in the daylight.

Despite your promises yesterday, which you still meant, you’d never intentionally hurt them, you have to ask. “What if something goes wrong? Who will keep you safe from me?”

You’re both silent for a long moment until you find the courage to ask the question that haunts you, “if I find a way to control it, can I come back?”  

He lifts his head and stares as if you’ve just spoken another language. He looks almost childlike in his confusion, not the tired man at the end of his tether than he claims to be. His answer is the sincerest thing you think you’ve ever heard, “I’m counting on it, sweetheart.”

Five weeks later

Last night had been the closest you’d come to a kill. Not a monster obviously but a human kill. No weapon required. You knew enough spells to murder and maim but last night it had been your fingers wrapped around his throat. The rest of the people in the dive laid unconscious at your feet, that was magic, but this guy? This hulk shape of a man who had decided you were what he fancied for the evening, his windpipe had been under your thumb. You’d felt it get narrower under the pressure you applied, watching his face become red while he clawed at your arm.

Your left arm.

It’s only thanks to the temporary spell you’d fashioned weeks back that you manage to soothe the bloodlust enough to let him go. He crumbles impossibly small for a man his size but when you hold two fingers to his throat he’s still alive.

It had been too close for comfort. You’d barely got your spell out. Yes, you knew it was a magical band-aid at best, but you were ending up with less and less time to say the words. The mark getting closer to making you a murderer, again.

You’d killed before. You’d felt life slip away under your hands. The Men of Letters had taught you well. Trained you well. But that was a different you, the one from before the Winchesters. You didn’t kill humans anymore and you were terrified that one slip and you’d become that person again. Someone who doesn’t even want to stop the mark. So yes, in spite of the anger you’d sighed gratefully when his pulse thumped against your fingers.

But today there’s a hopeful guide in your inbox. A book you traced to a tiny library in Scotland and a friend who’s scanned the volume for you. You’re not crazy enough to risk a visit back to the UK yourself. There’s not a border you could cross without signing your own kill order.

The book in question has spells so old that it’s said they predate magic as you know it. Some words are so obsolete that it’s impossible to decipher everything. Even looking at this book as PDF’s on a screen there’s an energy in the air like reading brings something ancient into existence.

It takes hours to do even a first read of the entire thing and you end up with furiously scribbled notes to remind yourself of meanings, or possible meanings. However, once you’ve finished you’re able to narrow down some points of interest. There’s a chapter on curses, casting them that is, but reversal is normally not that difficult. Then there’s the part that really interests you. The equivalent of a magical lock box. Potentially somewhere you could put yourself, magic free, if you ever got out of hand.

By mid-afternoon, you want to try. You’ll start small obviously, but you’ve been surprisingly decisive these past weeks, in a way you haven’t been since you lived by a strict code that left no room for indecision. When you’d found the book’s whereabouts you hadn’t agonized over whom you could trust or if you should go. You simply made the call and continued with other things, other spells and practice while you waited for the email. So now you want to start. Which means ingredients, so that means a supply run.

There’s this little new age store run by a tiny woman who appears to be dramatically shrinking due to the curve of her spine. You’re watching Margret bag up your herbs in brown paper when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

You spin around to see Sam, suited and booted, smiling down at you like he’d only seen you that morning and your face drops for a moment. Your lips part and your eyebrows quirk, stuck in a moment of genuine surprise until you notice the flash of rejection across his face. Quickly you remember yourself.

“Sorry, Sam. Hi, how-how are you? What are you doing here?” You wrap your arms around his middle in the semblance of a hug you might have given him as friends, but you pull back too quickly for it to be normal.

His smile is polite, “I’m good. We just got in, one of our old hunting buddies wanted some help with something weird in town.”

“In this town?” you fail to hide your surprise. You’d set up shop here a few weeks ago because of the lack of supernatural activities.

“It might be nothing,” he starts trying to reassure you like you’re scared, “Dan was just at this bar last night and some stuff went down so we said we’d come and check it out. I think Dean just wanted to get out to be honest.”

Of course. You’re only some two away from the bunker and you’d never thought to consider if there was a hunter in the bar. Not that it would have stopped you, but you would have skipped town by now.

You change the subject while you wonder how fast you could get out of dodge, “Dean’s here?”

There’s an attempt to mask the hope in your voice with a casual glance around him, but Sam sees straight through you. He thinks he’s so clever, “he misses you too. I mean we both do but Dean misses you.”

Sam can’t possibly know what he’s talking about. As well-meaning as your friend is he simply has no idea.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Sam. But um… I’m really sorry but I need to get going.” You turn back to Margret who is holding out a bag for you as you hand her some money with a rushed, “keep the change.” You could have given her ten dollars or a hundred, you don’t know, you just wanted to leave.

He catches you though, a hand on your shoulder when you try to get past him and concern seeping out of those bloody puppy dog eyes, “wait, hey. How are you doing? You know, with the mark.”

He mouths ‘mark’ like it’s a secret which already stokes the flames of your frustration. Not to mention him touching you is added fuel for the fire. So, there’s a little bite to your tone as you shake off his hold, “I’m fine. It’s fine, I’m dealing with it. Don’t worry about me.”

“What are you talking about? Of course, I’m worried about you, we all are. Cas too. Dean- he’s- we just want you to come home.”

You don’t mean to, but your face tightens, and you look up at Sam from under creased brows, “Forget about it ok. If I come home, I’ll do it on my own terms. Nothing to worry about, I have it handled.”

You’re away before he can catch you. You turn back once you’re on the sidewalk again, seeing him as he dials his phone and starts yammering into it.

It was pretty obvious who he was calling and whether Sam had worked out that you were the problem in town, or was just worried about you after the encounter, it was time to leave.

The rain wouldn’t have normally stopped you, but it was, in a word, torrential. If you didn’t know any better, having seen a few apocalypses at this point, you might think it was the end of days. You loved the rain normally. You just didn’t love driving in the rain, at night, on dimly lit highways and pitch-black backroads.

You’re packed and ready to go except for the ingredients you have out. If you’re trapped here until the morning the least you can do is keep trying.

The first spell, unfortunately, works. You manage to create a small box of nothingness. You only know it’s there by the way the light seems to shimmer at the edges. It’s a shape of nothingness, that it, until you put one hand into it.

The buzz of magic in your veins is cut off at your wrist like there’s a lead wall separating your arm and hand. You don’t ever remember a part of you feeling so empty. Even the years you’d spent limiting yourself in the bunker, magic had still always been there just not utilized. The sensation is odd, almost to the point that it doesn’t feel like your hand. You’re aware that you’re the one moving your fingers, but it feels like someone else. A phantom limb.

A shudder ripples through you as curiosity turns to discomfort and you pull your hand away. You’re quick to reverse the spell and thankful that you can move through the space again without experiencing that. For the first time, there’s a true sense of dread that somewhere in your future this may be your only option. Locking yourself away without powers. Barely imaging the sensation, no connection to the world around you like you’ve had all your life, makes you feel lost. You start to fear that you can’t fix this as neatly as you hoped.

Not for the first time your phone flashes and Dean’s name glows on the screen, however, it is the first time in five weeks that you answer. Fear has apparently weakened your resolve.

“Hello?”

“What room are you in Y/N?”

The sound of the horn from the Impala just about makes it to your room through the rain. You jump up from the floor as if it physically touched you.

He must have heard your gasp, but he repeats calmly, “what room?”

“Nine. First floor.”

The line goes dead, and you stare your phone utterly convinced it was a dream. Ready to write it off when the sound of knocking tells you otherwise.

It must take you hours to make it to the door, or it feels like hours. Pulling the thing open there’s Dean drenched from only walking the few feet from his car.

“You promised me you were coming home.” Dean’s normally stoic face looks on the verge of breaking into a thousand pieces.

“What?”

“Today. To Sam. You said if you come home.”

The fact that he’s still standing in the downpour has been lost to you both while you scrunch your face in confusion. “I didn’t technically promise.”

You don’t know why you’d said it. Of course, you wanted to go home. Everything you’ve ever said to Dean is a promise whether he knows it or not. And now he’s pressing his lips together to stop himself saying something that’s on the tip of his tongue.

Instead, he nods stiffly, “fine. Ok.”

His body turns to leave and you call after him, “you came here just for that? Why do you even care?”

It has never, in any of the days and nights spent thinking about him, during the hunts or the breakfasts or the road trips, never has it occurred to you that he might feel the same as you. It’s too impossible.

Until his rain-slicked lips are pressed against yours. He’s tentative and patient with his mouth against yours, kissing you enough to tell you everything but then pulling away just in case. However, his hands hold you still, fingers curled around your neck and thick, wet thumbs brushing your cheeks. You don’t have to kiss him but he’s not letting go.

You’re grateful for the moment to breathe with his forehead against yours. Breathing grounds you and you’ve never felt more like capable of floating away than you do right now. Dean just kissed you.

You’re still not entirely convinced this isn’t a dream and the only thing you can think to do is reach up and press your mouth to his again. Your tongue darts over his lips, a hand in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. You’re getting wet now having been the one to close the gap this time, but a little rain never hurt anyone.

You’ve been home for a month when you’ve done it. It took a mash-up of several spells and endless experimenting. It took spells that went wrong and one that went really wrong. It took late nights sitting in the dungeon because it was the only place that felt safe and bouncing magic off the walls hoping something would stick. It took reading more spells books and grimoires than you knew existed.

But you did it. You found the right words in the right order. Spoken under the full moon and amongst the stars.

The mark is still there, of course, it will still corrupt you eventually. It will have you in the end and there’s no clue how long it’ll be before your eyes turn black.

All you know if that for the first time since sitting in that field and working a spell to save the man you love, you feel wholly yourself again. The murderous rage is under its own lock and key just like the darkness, because you continue to bear the curse. Except now you have some semblance of control.

Sam and Dean are on a hunt when you manage it. You hadn’t told them you were attempting it again, not after the last time, you didn’t want them to worry. So, the first thing you do is sleep. You sleep well into mid-morning the next day. And then Dean texts you that they’re on the way back and, well, it doesn’t seem like the kind of thing you tell them over text message.

You devise a plan. Because they’ve both been so patient with you. They hadn’t taken the bait when you’d frequently tried to agitate them. Dean had coached you through some of the worst rages, even when you’d said things to him so awful that he should have left you on the spot.

They deserve to come home to some good news.

You go out and pick up everyone’s favorites, plus a pie because you’re not stupid, and you lay everything out in the kitchen. You almost call Sam when you start getting impatient, but you settle for a text and he assures you they’re ten minutes out.

When your phone rings you don’t even think to look at the number. So wrapped up in your own excitement that you assume it’s one of them. Not thinking that they wouldn’t call you this close to home, they’d just show up.

“Hello?”

The line crackles for all of a second before a smooth voice you know trills at you, “Y/N Y/L/N? My, my it has taken me so long to get in contact with you.”

Your mouth flaps soundlessly for all of a second, “Toni?”

“Obviously. It’s good to hear your voice Y/N. Although I’m not sure the elders will agree when they find out you’re not as dead as they all believe.”

[destielfluffnstuff]

[Destiel Fic] “Of Future Plans & Paradoxes”

[A smut free version of this story is available here.]

Summary:

Gabriel is sick of Dean avoiding his feelings, so he decides to create a little paradox, sending Dean forward in time to meet his future self.

Turns out the future Dean is in a very loving relationship with Castiel. And Gabriel won’t let Dean go home until he admits he’s in love with Castiel, too.

In which Dean is forced to literally face his love for Cas.

Categories: Light angst to sweet fluff, Canon universe Characters: Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester, Gabriel (briefly) Words: 12,418 Rating: Explicit Tags:  Dean comes to terms with being bisexual, is forced to watch his future self and Cas be adorable together, jealous!Dean, sweet!Cas, time travel, happy ending, smutty ending, bottom!Dean, top!Cas, set in the near future of season 13, spoiler free for future episodes (all future things are my ideas, not spoilers)

My Notes: So many thanks to @charliedeewnchstr-st​ and @broadwayloverforever​ for beta reading! I truly appreciate it. This story is lovingly based on this post by @i-think-i-m-adorable (but it’s not an apocalypse timeline story, it starts in season 13).

—————

Dean was feeling anxious, and he was working really hard to not think about why.

For once things were relatively okay. Castiel was finally back at the bunker, which meant that Dean didn’t have to constantly stress out about his safety. His mom and Jack were safe too, staying with Jody for a while so Jack could get to know some kids his own age.

Dean was really looking forward to hanging out with Cas, he already had a couple movies in mind that he wanted to make him watch. Cas was his best friend, Dean was just happier when he was around.

But somehow he was still feeling weird around Cas. If he was to be honest with himself, he would admit that he knew why, but the real reason was buried far too deep.

So Dean continued to shove it down, going about business as usual.

The three of them were just finishing up dinner. Dean had insisted on making burgers to celebrate Castiel’s return. Sam had insisted on a side salad as well.

“It’s great to have you back, Cas,” Sam said, clapping his hand on the angel’s shoulder as he got up from the table. “I’m gonna head to bed now though, it’s late. Goodnight guys.”

Dean said goodnight to his brother before turning back to Cas. “I put fresh sheets on your bed,” he said with a smile. “I mean, I know you don’t sleep, but I figured that you still might want to sit up in bed or something. I don’t know. I figured fresh sheets would be nice.”

Great, he was rambling.

Castiel smiled fondly. “It is nice, Dean, thank you.” He held Dean’s gaze for a long moment, appearing to be simply enjoying his company.

Dean cleared his throat, feeling a sudden need to escape. “Okay, well you know where it is, so I guess I’m going to bed too.” He stood up from the table, gripping Castiel’s shoulder and gently squeezing, his fingers lingering a moment longer than they should have. “It’s good to have you home, Cas.”

“It’s good to be here,” Castiel said, looking up at Dean with an unreadable expression.

Dean cleared his throat again. “Okay, goodnight.”

He finally escaped to the privacy of his bedroom, stripping down to a t-shirt and briefs before getting into bed. As he lay awake he couldn’t help worrying about Cas. He’d been so different around Dean since he came back from the Empty, and in the light of day Dean would swear he didn’t know why.

But alone at night, Dean would admit to himself that he knew. He knew that everything had changed between them when Castiel had admitted he loved him, the night he’d nearly died at the hands of Ramiel and that damn staff.

And Dean hadn’t had the courage to admit he felt the same. Not then, and not now. And at the rate he was going, probably not ever.

—————

Dean was woken by his bed shifting under someone else’s weight, and he was awake and leveling his gun at the intruder before his mind could process what he was seeing.

Gabriel. Standing on the foot of his bed, arms folded and grinning down at him. “Hey Dean-o, long time, no see.”

Dean glared, not lowering his gun. “Gabriel is dead. What are you?”

“I was dead,” Gabriel agreed. “Until my baby brother picked a fight with an ancient cosmic asshole. All the ruckus woke me up and I convinced him he needed to send me back too, or I would start shouting and wake more angels.” He grinned at Dean. “He didn’t want that, so here I am.”

Dean slowly lowered his gun. They hadn’t told anyone about Castiel’s experience in the Empty, so he had to admit this had to be the real Gabriel. Which didn’t entirely reassure him. “How did you get into the bunker? What do you want?”

Gabriel shrugged his shoulders. “Benefit of dying before all that drama upstairs, I still have my wings. And this place obviously isn’t warded against angels.” He cocked an eyebrow at Dean, looking suddenly cross. “As for what I want, well, can you imagine how irritating it is to come back eight years later, only to discover you two chuckle heads are still beating around the gay bush?”

Dean glared. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Cassy, dumb-dumb.” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Clearly you need an intervention. And I’m bored, so I’ll take any excuse to fuck with time and space.” He bent over, bringing his face a little closer to Dean’s. “So let’s see if this helps you get that stick out of your ass.”

With that Gabriel snapped his fingers and vanished.

Dean’s hand clutched at the blanket, expecting he would have been zapped somewhere, but he was surprised to realize he was still in his bed. He was still wearing his grey t-shirt and black briefs. He looked down at his empty hand, startled when he realized his gun was gone, but when he turned to look for it he found it back where it belonged in the holster hidden between his bed and the bedside table.

Dean looked around his room in confusion, and that’s when he finally realized what was wrong. It was his room, but it was different. The first thing he noticed was a framed picture of him and Cas on his desk. They were grinning at the camera, arms slung around each other.

Dean had no memory of taking that picture.

There was also an entire book shelf on a wall that used to be empty, and Dean slowly rose from the bed to look at it. It was covered in books and random artifacts, some of which Dean recognized and some that he didn’t.

He definitely didn’t put that there.

“Who are you?”

He spun around at the sound of the familiar voice, and was startled to find Castiel standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. His hair was wet too, as if he’d just come from the shower. Since when did Cas shower?

“Cas? What the hell is going on?” Dean asked, taking a step toward him.

Castiel’s eyes grew wide, and he seemed to look through Dean’s chest before he looked him in the eye again. “Dean. For a moment I thought you must be an imposter, but I see now that it’s you. You just don’t belong here.”

Dean was getting irritated. “What the hell does that—” He cut himself off when he heard another voice in the hall.

The voice sounded exactly like Dean’s. “Cas? Who are you talking—”

Dean stared in shock as he watched another version of himself step up behind Castiel. Dean might have thought he was looking in a mirror, if the other Dean wasn’t also fresh from the showers and wrapped in a towel.

Dean instantly went to high alert, his mind immediately assuming this other version of himself was some kind of monster. He dove backwards for the gun, but Castiel seemed to anticipate his reaction, and he roughly shoulder checked him face first into the wall. The angel easily pinned him there.

“He is not a monster,” Castiel said, clearly knowing what Dean was thinking. “He is just a different version of you.”

The other Dean was grumbling behind Cas. “Great. He’s the real deal, yeah?”

“He is,” Castiel said. “His soul matches yours.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Dean demanded, trying to shrug off Castiel.

Cas finally let Dean go, and he stepped back so Dean could turn around. Dean was surprised that he still had the towel securely around his waist, and he tried not to look at the other man’s well defined chest.

“We knew this would happen eventually.” The other Dean glared at him as he pulled a pair of jeans out of a dresser and threw them at him. “Put those on and wait for us in the war room. We need to get dressed.”

Dean caught the pants just before he was unceremoniously shoved out of his own room, left facing the door closing in his face.

“What the hell.”

—————

With his pants on, Dean made his way out of the war room. He looked around warily, still trying to figure out exactly where or when he was. Another alternate universe perhaps?

Things seemed mostly the same, with only a few changes. The laptop sitting on the table was new. And he noticed a collection of pictures on the wall.

He walked over closer to check them out. They were several dozen four by six prints that had been artfully arranged in a collage. There were pictures of him and Cas, his mom and Sam. Other people were there too, including Jack, Claire, and Jody. There were also a couple people Dean didn’t recognize, as well as a few older pictures of people they’d lost.

Dean noticed there were several pictures where Dean had an arm around Cas or the other way around. His eyebrows rose when he found one picture of Dean pressing a kiss to the angel’s cheek, Castiel grinning widely.

It had definitely seemed like his future self and Cas had been showering together, and they’d both stayed in Dean’s room to get dressed.

Dean’s eyes went wide as he realized he was in some crazy alternaturnate universe where he and Cas were a… thing.

“Mom made that.”

Dean turned around to end up face to face with himself again. The other Dean was standing on the other side of the war room table, Castiel at his side. And the angel was wearing Dean’s favorite AC/DC shirt.

Dean frowned. “You’re wearing my clothes,” he said, looking at Castiel.

The other Dean glared at him. “No, he’s wearing my clothes,” he corrected. He glanced over at Castiel, and a smile cracked his face. “And yeah, he does that. I like it.”

Dean cleared his throat, gesturing between his other self and Castiel. “So, you two are…?”

“In a committed relationship, yes,” Castiel said.

The other Dean rolled his eyes, but cast a fond look toward Castiel. “Basically, yeah.” He turned back to Dean. “And it’s why you’re here.”

“What’s why I’m here?” Dean demanded.

The other Dean waved his hand between himself and Castiel, echoing the gestured Dean had just made. “This. Us. It’s the whole reason Gabriel sent you forward in time.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “You know about that?”

The other Dean rolled his eyes. “Of course I know about it, dumbass. I’m you, you’re me. Everything that is happening to you, already happened to me.”

Dean thought about that. Time travel, not an alternate universe. That meant it was him in a relationship with Cas, how the fuck was that possible?

The other Dean was still talking. “Gabriel won’t send you back home until you get your shit together and admit you love Cas.”

Dean shook his head and put his hands up. “What? No. You must be mistaken, this has gotta be an alternate universe thing. I don’t love Cas.” He noticed the way Castiel frowned when he said that. “You know, as more than family.”

The other Dean growled and shook his head. “Yeah, you’re definitely from 2018, I was in some serious denial back then. Hate to break it to you, but you’re stuck here until you get over it.”

Dean ignored that last comment for the moment. “What year is it anyway?”

“2021,” Castiel said. “About three years into your future.”

“Dean? Why are you guys…” Sam stumbled up the stairs from the hall, hair a mess and still in his sleep clothes. He froze when he noticed both versions of his brother. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Time travel, Sammy,” the future version of Dean said, as if it were that simple.

Castiel decided to clarify. “A version of Dean from the past has been sent by Gabriel to visit us. He will be with us until he accepts he’s in love with the past version of myself.”

Sam gaped at them all for a moment. “I guess I’ll make up the guest room and go back to bed...” he muttered, turning around and stumbling out of the room.

Dean turned back to his other self. “Look, I just want to go home. If you’re me, then you should just be able to tell me what you did to convince Gabriel to send you back. We can jump right to the end.”

A look of realization flashed through the future Dean’s eyes, and his face darkened. “I can’t tell you that. The other Dean didn’t tell me, so I can’t tell you.”

Dean groaned. “Why not?”

“Because, if things don’t go the way they’re supposed to, then you don’t go home and get together with Cas,” the other Dean said, sounding angry. “And there’s not a chance in hell I’m doing anything to risk that! So settle in, you’re gonna be here a while,” he snapped.

“We’ll see about that,” Dean threatened. But he knew he was stuck for the moment, so he turned to leave the room. “Aw fuck it, I’m going to bed.” He suddenly stopped and turned back. “Wait, are Mom and Jack here?”

His other self shook his head. “Not right now. They’re okay, but that’s all I can tell you.”

Dean growled in frustration, shaking his head as he stomped down the hall. “Sam?”

Sam stepped out of Castiel’s room, brows furrowing as he looked at Dean. “Which one are you?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “The one from the past.”

Sam nodded, clearly still too tired to process that. “Well I put fresh sheets on the bed, so it’s all yours.”

“That room belongs to Cas,” Dean said.

Sam looked at Dean like he was an idiot. “Castiel shares your room,” he said, then frowned. “Er, uh, Dean’s room. Present Dean. Shit, I’m too tired for this.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Look, just let me go back to bed, I’ll answer your questions in the morning, okay?”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, sure Sammy.”

Dean stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He didn’t know what time of night it had been when Gabriel zapped him here, but he felt drained, and his head had barely hit the pillow when he was out.

—————

The next morning Dean got up and dressed, not sure what the day would bring. When he opened the bedroom door, he found a pile of clean clothes on the floor. He picked them up, realizing it was some of his own shirts and jeans, plus some items he didn’t recognize. But it all looked like something he would wear. He realized the other version of himself must have left them for him.

He put the clothes away before heading out to the kitchen, hoping someone was already up and coffee was brewing, because boy did he need it.

He heard voices as he approached, and he paused, not able to resist the temptation to eavesdrop. He could hear his own voice and Castiel’s.

“It does not bother me, Dean,” Castiel was saying. “He is you and you are him. I cannot separate my love from one or the other of you.”

“Yeah, well it bothers me!” the other Dean snapped. “I know how this ends, and I’m not okay with sharing!”

“You’re not sharing me, not really,” Castiel said. “It will be okay, Dean. We will complete the timeline and he will go back.”

Dean edged around the corner, and he was startled to see the other version of himself in Castiel’s arms. Dean had his face on Castiel’s shoulder, and Cas had his arms around his waist, one hand running gently up and down the other man’s back. Cas smiled and pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead, murmuring soft words.

Dean stumbled back out of the doorway, his heart constricting painfully. He leaned back against the wall, confused why he was suddenly a little short of breath.

He’d just seen his most private dreams come to life. This other version of himself had everything he’d never been able to admit he wanted. Everything he knew he could never have. It was more than Dean was prepared to process, so he ran.

—————

Dean was hiding in the back of the library, sitting in one of two armchairs that had been tucked into the corner. He was flipping through a book of spells, trying to find something that might send him home.

“You’re not going to find anything in that book,” Sam said, appearing next to Dean with two cups of coffee in hand, handing one to him. “Dean, uh, the other Dean said I’d find you here.”

Dean glowered a little, but took the coffee, taking a sip. He’d never gotten up the nerve to go into the kitchen and get some. “Thanks.” He smiled a little at Sam, glad that at least his brother seemed the same.

Sam sat down on the chair next to Dean, and he leveled his patented I’m-worried-about-you stare. “So I imagine all this has been quite a shock for you.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You think, Sammy?” He couldn’t quite look at his brother, so he focused on drinking his coffee.

“I’m not going to push you,” Sam said. “I know you’ll need to work this out on your own time.” He paused, considering his words carefully. “I just wanted to say, you—present you—have been happier in these last few years with Cas than I’ve ever seen you your whole life. So I know this is hard, but it’s worth it.”

Dean stared into his coffee, not at all ready to talk about any of it. “Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam gave him a pat on the knee, then left him to his thoughts.

—————

Dean spent the rest of the afternoon hiding in the library, pouring over one book after another. It didn’t do him any good, there wasn’t anything close to powerful enough to send him back. And to make things worse, his stomach was growling at him.

“I told Sammy to tell you the books won’t help.”

Dean looked up, glaring at himself. “He told me.”

The other Dean shrugged. “Well suit yourself. But you’re not getting out of here until you play along with what Gabriel wants. Which means spending time with me and Cas. Especially Cas.” He raised an eyebrow. “And I know you haven’t eaten all day, so you should come have dinner.”

Dean felt irrationally defensive. “How do you know I haven’t eaten?”

The other man just rolled his eyes. “I’ve literally been you, doing exactly what you’re doing right now. How many times do I have to explain that to you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbled, closing the book and dropping it on the table. His stomach rumbled again. “Okay fine, dinner.”

—————

Dean followed his future self into the kitchen, where they found Castiel at the stove, working on what looked like burgers. He was wearing another t-shirt and jeans combo that had clearly been stolen from the future Dean’s closet.

Dean went straight to the fridge and cracked open a beer, moving to park himself at the table. He was going to need more than a few beers to get through this dinner.

He was surprised to see the other Dean slip in next to Cas and start to help. The two of them moved like a well oiled machine, working together to finish assembling the burgers. They were chatting easily about their day, speaking vaguely about something they’d been researching. Whatever it was, clearly they didn’t think Dean should know about it.

Dean couldn’t help but watch all the little moments of affection that passed between the two of them. A brush of a hand on the small of the back, the arm, the neck. Little smiles and words of affection. It wasn’t over the top, but it was far more than Dean expected from any version of himself.

Sam wandered into the room and sat down next to Dean just as the burgers were being dished up. Cas brought their plates over and the four of them sat down together around the table.

Dean noticed that Sam’s presence didn’t change how Cas and his other self interacted. They sat close, shoulders pressed together. Dean was surprised to see they didn’t care about what Sam saw, and equally as surprised at how Sam ignored it all, as if it were commonplace.

They started to eat in an awkward silence, and Dean was determined to keep to himself. But he couldn’t help but notice that Castiel was eating too, and he seemed to be really enjoying his burger.

Dean cleared his throat, his curiosity getting the better of him. “So uh, you eat food now Cas?”

Cas looked up at him. “Yes. After Dean and I got together, I chose to partially drain my grace. But I still retain some of it, enough to heal a serious wound in an emergency, although it does drain me significantly now.”

Dean frowned. He didn’t like the idea of Cas giving up anything for him. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“I desired a more human existence.” Cas glanced at his Dean. “So that I could more properly enjoy human pleasures and emotions. It particularly makes sex more enjoyable.”

Sam groaned and both Deans shifted in their seats, clearly embarrassed.

“What did you do with your grace?” Dean asked.

Dean’s future self reached inside the front of his shirt and pulled out a small vial on a chain around his neck. It glowed a soft blue. “He asked me to keep it safe for him,” he said, voice full of fond affection.

Dean was floored. He liked to think Cas trusted him, but holding his grace was several levels higher than he deserved. He glared at his other self. “You’d sure as hell better keep that safe.”

“I protect it with my life,” the other man said, entirely serious. He reached out and took Castiel’s hand in his, squeezing it gently before he let go and returned to his dinner.

Things grew silent, and Dean ate his burger. It was fixed exactly the way he liked it, which shouldn’t surprise him given the circumstances. He glanced tentatively at Cas. “The burger is really good,” he said, hoping the other man would take the small olive branch.

Castiel smiled, a wide, happy grin. “Thank you, Dean.”

—————

Dean lay awake in bed that night, visions of himself and Castiel in his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about how happy his other self had looked, and how comfortable he seemed to be. Dean never thought he could be so content, especially not in a relationship with another man.

Sure, in the privacy of his own mind he couldn’t deny that he had some feelings for Cas. Some very intense feelings. He just never thought he would act on them. Never thought they could amount to anything more than heartache.

Relationships always ended in pain for Dean. He’d written love out of his life a long time ago.

But here he was, face to face with solid evidence that he could indeed have everything he wanted.

But only if he could find the courage to ask for it.

—————

When Dean slowly made his way into the kitchen the next morning he was relieved and a little disappointed to find only Sam sitting at the table, drinking coffee.

His brother looked up at him. “Coffee is on,” he said, gesturing to the pot. “Dean and Cas… Um, our Dean and Cas had to go collect something. They’ll be back in a couple hours.”

Dean frowned a little, pouring himself a cup and moving to join Sam at the table. “You guys are working a case, aren’t you?”

Sam looked a little sheepish. “Yeah. Sorry, it’s just that Dean wasn’t told about the case when he was you, so we figure that means we can’t tell you either. Because, you know…”

Dean grumbled and ran a hand through his hair. “I hate paradoxes.”

Sam smiled. “Yeah, tell me about it.” He considered Dean for a moment. “So, how are you doing with… you know.”

Dean took a long sip of coffee, debating how he wanted to reply. “Okay, I guess. Considering.” He looked up at Sam, forcing himself to ask the question. “Tell me, didn’t it bother you? When I supposedly came back from this time hop and just suddenly announced my undying love? I can’t imagine you were just okay with it.” He felt his chest clench as he waited for Sam’s reply, and realized he was far more worried about what Sam thought than he was admitting to himself.

Sam just laughed, startling Dean. “Seriously? I was relieved!”

Dean frowned, confused. “What? Relieved?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, you’ve been crazy about Cas for years. I was just happy you finally acted on it. I was afraid you never would.”

“How the hell…?” Dean stared at his brother, trying to figure out how he’d known. “Am I really that transparent?”

Sam shrugged. “Probably not to anyone else, but I know you.” His eyes grew soft, that oh so familiar puppy dog look. “Dean, I know about Mark.”

Dean felt his stomach drop and he actually physically recoiled. He couldn’t speak for a moment, but he managed to find his words. “How the hell do you know about that?” he growled.

“I was fifteen Dean, I wasn’t blind,” Sam said. “I knew there was something going on.” He looked down at the table for a long moment before looking up at Dean again. “And I know it’s why you and Dad had that horrible fight. Right before we left town and you never saw him again.”

Dean was quiet for a long time, not able to look at Sam. This was a part of himself he’d never intended to share with his brother. Had never intended to unbox again. He’d put it away the day he’d walked away from Mark.

Dean had known from a young age that he was attracted to both men and women. And at nineteen he’d met a beautiful man just a few years older than him, when they’d spent a couple months in Boston. For a few weeks they’d had a great time together.

Until John had found out. He’d been furious. Had given Dean the choice to break up with Mark or never see Sammy again. Ever the loyal soldier, Dean had done as he was told. And after that he didn’t let himself look twice at a good looking man until long after his father was dead.

“Dean, I’m not like Dad,” Sam insisted. “I just want you to be happy. To be yourself.” He smiled tentatively. “You know I was actually really excited when you finally started to flirt with guys again.”

Dean snorted, feeling something inside him start to unwind. “A little flirting never hurt anyone…” He stared down at his coffee cup for a long time. “For years I swore that Mark was a one time thing, an experiment. That I had no interest in repeating.”

Sam considered him carefully. “Until you met Cas.”

Dean’s heart constricted, and he wasn’t sure if it was more pain or hope. “Until Cas,” he admitted.

They were quiet for a moment before Sam spoke again. “So, when you go home. I already know you’re bisexual, so you don’t need to like, come out to me or anything. Just make it official with Cas and tell me you finally asked him out.” He smiled reassuringly. “I’ll be thrilled, I promise.”

Dean let that label bounce around his mind for a minute. He’d rarely let himself consider it, but he knew it was the truth. Bisexual. He could handle that.

Maybe.

—————

Dean was reading a random lore book in the library when he heard the clang of the bunker door, announcing the return of Cas and his counterpart. He could hear them talking as they came down the stairs, and he watched as they came into view and paused at the bottom. They were discussing something quietly, from the looks of it Dean’s future self was irritated and Cas was trying to reassure him.

Dean couldn’t pull his gaze away from the two of them. He watched as Castiel cupped his Dean’s jaw in his hand while they spoke. Clearly they believed they were alone. They spoke quietly for a moment before Cas leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to Dean’s lips.

Dean’s mouth went dry as he watched the two kiss. It was gentle at first, then it deepened and became more passionate. His stomach twisted with something that felt suspiciously like jealousy as Castiel’s arms went around the other Dean’s waist, pulling them closer together.

Just when things looked like they would get heated, Castiel pulled back, leaving one last chaste kiss. His hands lingered around the future Dean’s waist while they spoke quietly, and Dean could see his counterpart seemed to be appeased. Whatever had been bothering him seemed resolved.

They finally split apart, and Dean’s older self left for the kitchen, while Castiel turned and walked into the library. Dean straightened in his chair when he realized he was headed for him.

“Uh, hey Cas, what’s up?” Dean asked, trying to hide how horribly affected he was. He couldn’t help but lick his lips as he looked up at Castiel.

Cas smiled and took the seat at the table next to him. “I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.” His blue eyes reflected compassion. “My Dean was telling me how stressful this was for him, when he was you.”

Dean’s heart fluttered at the words ‘My Dean’ coming from Castiel’s lips. “Oh, well thanks. I’m doing okay, I guess. Better today.”

Castiel nodded. “I’m happy to hear that. You’re incredibly important to me Dean, I will do anything I can to make this easier for you.”

Dean wasn’t sure what to say, but he did think of a question that had been bothering him. “Yeah, um, so Cas. I know you love him, but did you really feel that way back then? You know, in 2018?”

A fond expression crossed Castiel’s face as he considered the question. “I believe I first started to fall in love with you the day I pulled your soul from hell,” he said. “I felt something then, somehow I knew we were bound.” His blue eyes searched Dean’s. “And I only grew more devoted to you as time passed. But it was after Metatron stole my grace, when I lived fully human for a time, that was when I realized the true extent of my love for you. So yes, your Cas loves you very much. I’ve lived a very long life, Dean Winchester, and loving you has been the best of it.”

Dean was speechless. His heart leapt, and he knew that everything Castiel said was true for him as well, that he’d been his since the day they met. But he wasn’t at all ready to voice any of that, so he ducked his head and cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, you’re really important to me too, Cas.” He wished he could say more, but that was the best he could manage.

“My Dean will be working on dinner for a little while,” Cas said. “He suggested that you and I could take a walk. He says it’s important that we spend time together.”

Dean looked at Cas for a moment, before nodding. “Okay.”

—————

The two of them walked in silence for a while, simply wandering through the trees that hid the bunker. Dean had almost been expecting Cas to want to hold his hand, or something else corny, but it really was no different than when he’d spent time with his Cas back home. They were walking very close together, but Dean had to admit they’d always done that.

Dean had something weighing on his mind, and he decided perhaps Cas would be the right person to open up to. It was too personal for Sam and talking to his other self just irritated him. He glanced over at Castiel. “I’ve been wondering… The other Dean, how is he handling all this? Is he like… an out and proud bisexual now or some shit?”

Castiel smiled to himself. “Dean told me you’d ask these questions, and that I could answer freely.” He looked over at him. “It wasn’t easy at first. It took him a while to get comfortable with our relationship, and it took longer still for him to allow anyone but Sam to know about it.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “He will sometimes tell people he’s bisexual. But generally he dislikes being labeled.”

Dean nodded, considering that. He knew that whatever happened here in this time, it wouldn’t mean he’d magically go home and everything would be perfect. It would still take time and effort to get to where his future self is now. “Well I’m sorry you have to put up with all that crap,” he muttered.

“Dean.” Cas stopped, putting a hand on Dean’s arm to turn him, so he could look him in the face. “It is not crap and you are not a burden.”

Dean wanted to object, but then Castiel’s hand came to his face and gently cupped his jaw, just like he’d seen Cas do with his future self. He was startled by how easy and comfortable the touch felt, and he was reminded that for Castiel it was a perfectly natural thing to do.

Castiel pulled his hand back, looking chagrined. “I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It is difficult for me to separate you from my Dean.”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” Dean admitted, reaching out to touch Castiel’s arm. “It, uh… It actually felt really nice.” He looked at his feet, feeling his cheeks heat. “You don’t need to seperate us. If you don’t want to.”

Dean wanted to know. He wanted to experience what this Dean had.

Castiel smiled, and his hand returned to Dean’s face, his thumb stroking gently over his cheek bone. “I would like that.”

Dean couldn’t help but lean into the touch. He could feel it draining some of the anxiety from him, and he wasn’t entirely convinced that Cas wasn’t using a little of his remaining grace.

Castiel stepped a little closer to Dean. “If you don’t want me to seperate the two of you…” He looked a little mischievous. “Then I would kiss you right now.”

Dean’s eyes went wide, and he was pretty sure his heart actually did skip a beat, although he’d definitely never admit it. When he finally spoke, his voice was a hoarse whisper. “I think I’d like that.”

Dean found himself holding his breath as Castiel leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, before pulling away, smiling. Dean felt torn between relief and frustration. A big part of him wanted a real, proper kiss, but another part wasn’t sure he was ready for that. So he settled for just returning Castiel’s smile as they continued their walk.

—————

By the time they finally made it back to the bunker, things had become more relaxed between them. Dean was starting to realize things really weren’t all that different, he could pretty much treat this Cas the same as the Cas who was his best friend back home.

Only he could kiss this Cas, if he wanted to.

If he had the nerve.

Dean followed Cas down the stairs into the bunker, his mind wrapped up thinking about everything. He almost didn’t notice when Cas paused at the bottom, and Dean barely stopped before he ran into him. He found himself one step above Cas, looking down into bright blue eyes.

“You’ve gone quiet again,” Cas said, concerned.

Dean offered a small smile. “Just thinking about everything.” He tentatively reached out to put a hand on the other man’s shoulder. It wasn’t even something he wouldn’t have done back home, but somehow it felt different now. “Good thoughts, don’t worry.”

Castiel’s hands came to Dean’s hips and he craned his head to press a kiss to Dean’s jaw. “I’m pleased.”

Dean shivered, his whole body responding to Castiel’s simple touch. He found himself reaching out to run his fingers through Castiel’s hair, surprised to find it was incredibly soft. He’d always wondered what his hair felt like, it was almost surreal to be touching it now. He let his fingers linger, tangling and carding through. Castiel tipped his head up in response to the touch, and Dean found himself ducking to press another simple kiss to his lips. Then he cleared his throat and pulled back, surprised by his own actions.

Castiel didn’t seem phased. “I think it’s time for dinner,” he said. He seemed to see that Dean was feeling a little overwhelmed, and he gently pulled away. “Come.” His hand gently brushed Dean’s arm, beckoning him, before he let it drop and he turned to head for the kitchen.

Dean found himself following Cas without thinking, still a little stunned.

They found Sam on his laptop at the table and the older Dean at the stove. He looked tense and he was glaring at the mashed potatoes he was finishing.

Dean watched from the doorway as Castiel went to him, putting a hand on his back and kissing his cheek, murmuring something in his ear. He watched his other self relax a little under the touch and turn to offer Cas a small smile. He was surprised to see a hint of anxiety in his own eyes, and he realized with a start that the other Dean knew everything that had just happened between him and Cas. Of course he did, he’d been him once. And he clearly wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation.

Dean decided to give them some space, and he grabbed a beer and went to sit next to Sam. His brother immediately turned the laptop so he couldn’t see what he was working on, and Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna peak, chill out Sammy.”

“Sorry.” Sam laughed, looking a little embarrassed. “Just gotta make sure, this whole time travel thing is freaky.”

“I know,” Dean said, taking a sip of his beer. “But I figure if Gabriel has the power to create this situation then he has the power to make sure we don’t fuck shit up too badly.” He looked over at his other self, now plating up dinner with Castiel. “Besides, he went through all this and came out the other end without changing the future, so we should be fine.”

“Or he already changed the future and we just don’t know because we’re living in it,” Sam said, shrugging his shoulders.

Dean groaned. “Okay, if I think about this too much I’ll lose my mind, let’s find something else to talk about. Tell me, has Winds Of Winter been published yet?”

Sam laughed. “You know I can’t tell you things like that.”

Dean grinned. “Yeah well, can’t blame a guy for trying.”

A plate of steak and mashed potatoes suddenly appeared in front of Dean, and he looked up at Castiel with a smile. “Thanks, Cas.”

Cas returned the smile and affectionately ran his hand over the back of Dean’s neck before he moved to sit next to the other Dean.

Dean blushed faintly and ducked his face to his food, not wanting to see Sam’s reaction to that little display of affection. He just dug into his meal instead.

Dinner passed relatively easily, and Dean was mostly silent while the other three tried to have a coded conversation about their case without saying things Dean shouldn’t know. Dean didn’t really care, he was busy wrapped up in his own thoughts. Thinking about Cas, and his Cas, and what life would be like when he went back. Assuming things progressed for him the same way they did for his future self.

He couldn’t help but watch the way the other Dean and Cas were interacting, and he found himself craving that level of easy intimacy. They sat so close together, and he was pretty sure Cas had a hand on Dean’s leg under the table. He suddenly realized he could recognize desire on his own face as the other Dean whispered something in Castiel’s ear. Dean watched in fascination as Cas pinked up faintly, grinning and nodding.

The elder Dean got up, clearing his plate. “Okay, goodnight folks. Come on, Cas.”

Cas got up as well. “We will see you in the morning,” he said, picking up his dishes. “Goodnight Dean, Sam.”

Dean watched as the two left the room together, Castiel’s hand on the small of Dean’s back.

“Word of advice,” Sam said, “don’t get too close to their bedroom door unless you’re prepared to hear some things.”

Dean’s face warmed at the suggestion. “Uh, thanks Sammy.”

Sam laughed lightly at Dean’s embarrassment, but his eyes were kind. “So, looks like you and Cas are getting to know each other a little better.”

Dean cleared his throat, wanting to change the subject. “Look Sammy, there’s something else I gotta know.” His heart was beating hard, a large part of him terrified to know the answer to his question. “How does Mom take it?”

It took Sam a moment to realize what Dean meant, and when he did his expression softened. “It was a little hard for her at first,” he said, then hurried to add, “but not for the reason you think. She was worried about you, and Cas too. She grew up in a time when it could be downright dangerous to be in a relationship with someone of the same gender. It took her some time to accept that things are a lot better now.” He grinned at Dean. “Not to mention you guys can obviously protect yourselves just fine.”

Dean relaxed a little, and the knot in his stomach started to unwind. “So she’s cool with it?”

“Yeah, she is,” Sam said. “She’s actually kind of embarrassingly supportive now,” he said with a laugh. “So you have that to look forward to.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, great.” He smiled at Sam, feeling much better. “Thank you. I’m going to hit the sack now, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Sam nodded. “Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean headed out of the kitchen and down the hall, only to slow as he approached his room, Dean’s room. Sam’s warning echoed in his mind, and he couldn’t resist pausing to listen. His face colored when he immediately heard soft sounds coming through the door.

He could hear the rumble of Castiel’s voice, although he couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. And he could hear himself, and he sounded absolutely wrecked. He couldn’t quite make out the words, but he knew from personal experience he was begging through his moans. Then he was finally able to catch what he was saying, and his breath caught as his other self begged, “harder Cas, please…”

Dean stumbled away from the door, shocked and incredibly aroused to realize what that meant. He hurried into the guest room and quickly shut the door behind him, leaning heavily against it, his hand going to his quickly swelling cock in his jeans.

He’d never bottomed for Mark, but god he’d wanted to. He just hadn’t had the courage to try it before things had blown up between them. He hadn’t yet let himself think too much about what sex was like between his other self and Cas, but now his mind was filling with images.

Dean couldn’t help it, he stripped off his jeans and moved to the bed, palming his cock through his briefs as he stretched out. It throbbed in his hand as he imagined Cas thrusting into him, using his incredible strength to pin him to the bed. God, it would feel so good to surrender to him.

He bit back a groan as he pulled his hard cock out, using pre-come to slick up his hand as he started to stroke himself. His other hand pushed lower, just barely teasing at the rim of his entrance.

Suddenly so much about the dynamic between Cas and his other self made sense. He’d seen how Dean leaned on Cas, and even with women Dean had always loved a partner who wasn’t afraid to take charge. There was just something about submitting that always got Dean excited.

Dean’s hand moved faster over his cock, his hips thrusting up to meet it, and he let out a soft moan as the pleasure built. He closed his eyes, envisioning himself being manhandled by Cas, strong hands gripping his hips as a thick cock fucked him hard.

Before Dean knew it he was coming, and he arched up on the bed as white hot pleasure exploded through him, before finally slumping down again.

He was left panting and stunned, mind still catching up to this new discovery. He really couldn’t deny what he wanted from Cas, not anymore.

It took Dean a long time to fall asleep that night.

—————

Dean had a hard time looking anyone in the eye the next morning as he walked into the kitchen. He was sure that if they looked too closely they’d be able to tell what he’d been thinking. Was still thinking, and couldn't get out of his mind. He made a beeline for the coffee pot, hoping the others would mistake his silence for under caffeination.

He could feel the other Dean’s eyes on him, and he knew that was the one person in the room he couldn’t hide from. The other man knew exactly what he’d been fantasizing about.

“Good morning, Dean,” Cas said, coming up next to him at the counter to refill his own coffee cup. “How did you sleep?” His hand came to rest on the small of Dean’s back for a moment.

Dean’s heart raced and he flushed. “Um, fine,” he said, hiding his face in his coffee, escaping to the kitchen table, sitting down next to Sam and across from his other self.

Future Dean rolled his eyes at him. “Calm down, princess,” he taunted, sounding irritable. “Nobody knows but me.” He leered at Dean.

Dean glared at him, face going red. “Shut up,” he snapped.

Sam shifted awkwardly, looking back and forth between the two of them in confusion.

Across the room, Cas spoke up. “I’m going to go complete the... preparations,” he said, taking his coffee as he left the room.

Dean frowned, suddenly distracted from his predicament. “Preparations?”

Sam nodded. “For the case.” He glanced over at the elder Dean. “We actually need to leave for a day or two to finish it up. Dean and I, Cas is going to stay here with you.”

Dean glared. “I don’t need a babysitter, he can go with you.”

The other Dean shook his head, clearly annoyed with him. “No he’s gotta stay. He stayed when I was you, so he stays now.” He leveled a look at Dean. “You have to prove yourself to Gabriel so he’ll let you go home.”

Sam cleared his throat and got up, taking his coffee with him. “I’m gonna go pack.” He quickly escaped the room, clearly wanting to get away from the conversation.

Both Deans watched Sam go before they turned back to each other. They were silent for a long moment before the elder Dean finally spoke, voice rough and frustrated. “Look, I’m not happy about this. Cas is mine, you have your own Cas at home.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “But this has to happen. You have to figure things out with Cas, so you can go back home and be with your Cas. Because if you don’t…”

Dean realized what his other self meant. That tonight was the night, it was how it had happened for him, so it was how it must happen for Dean. His heart raced at the implication.

“Cas is the best damn thing that has ever happened to me,” the elder Dean said, speaking with sincerity. He leaned over the table, staring Dean down. “If you don’t get this ball rolling with him then we never get together, and I won’t let that happen. So please, I need you to do this.” He was begging now, eyes shimmering with emotion. “Just trust him. He will make you happier than you ever knew was possible.”

Dean felt short of breath, but he nodded. “I… Yeah, I can do that.”

The other Dean seemed to relax a little. “Okay. Good.” He abruptly got up from the table. “We’ll be gone in an hour and we won’t be back until morning, I expect you to use the most of your time,” he said.

With that, he was gone, and Dean was left alone with his racing mind.

—————

Dean hid in the kitchen for a while, torn between desire and fear. He was pretty sure his other self meant that he was going to have to sleep with Cas, that seemed like the kind of proof Gabriel would want. And god did he want that to happen.

But he was also scared shitless.

He finally decided to venture out to the war room when he heard Sam and the other Dean getting ready to leave.

They each had a bag packed, the elder Dean was already halfway up the stairs, Cas watching him go. They’d clearly already said their goodbyes. Sam noticed him and crossed the room to meet him.

“Hey Dean,” Sam said. “Our Dean says you should be gone when we get back. So I guess this is goodbye.” He gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Everything will work out, you’ll see.”

Dean nodded, truly appreciating his brother in that moment. “Thanks, Sam. For everything.” He leaned in and gave his brother a big hug, giving him a firm smack on the back for good measure. “Bye Sammy. Don’t do anything dumb on your hunt.”

“Bye Dean.” Sam smiled as he pulled away, squeezing Dean’s shoulder before he turned to leave.

Dean looked up at his future self, standing at the top of the stairs. He offered him a nod, hoping he’d understand his gratitude. The other man simply returned his nod before turning and walking out of the bunker.

With the heavy clang of the door, they were gone. Dean looked over at Cas, his mouth going dry when he realized they were now alone.

With the whole weight of the paradox hanging over Dean’s head, expecting him to follow through. He felt his breath start to quicken.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Castiel said, noticing Dean’s distress and moving closer. “I know this is a lot, but nothing will happen if you don’t want it to.” He paused in front of Dean, but kept his hands to himself. “We’ll just spend the day together, like any other day.”

Dean felt himself relax a little, and he nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He considered the other man for a moment. “Why don’t you let me make you breakfast?”

Cas grinned. “I’d like that.”

Once back in the kitchen, Cas sat at the table while Dean got to work on bacon and french toast. They managed to slip back into easy conversation, both of them now a little more accustomed to avoiding topics time travel wouldn’t let them discuss.

When Dean finally had both their meals plated he brought them over to the table, sliding in to sit next to Cas. On a whim he leaned over and pressed a kiss to Castiel’s cheek, his own face going pink as he turned his attention back to his food.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas murmured, leaning a little more into his space.

As they ate Castiel’s hand moved to rest on Dean’s thigh under the table, just as he’d imagined it might, and it made his stomach flip with happiness.

After breakfast they decided to watch a movie together, settling on a rewatch of The Dark Knight. Dean screwed up his courage and sat down right next to Cas, pressing himself up against the other man’s side. He was wearing a soft t-shirt, so Dean could feel the warmth of skin on skin as their arms pressed together.

Castiel reached for his hand, taking it in his and interlacing their fingers. As the movie started he squeezed gently, slowly running his thumb across the back of Dean’s hand.

Dean couldn’t remember ever being this happy, just to sit with someone. It was such a simple, almost platonic thing, but it was amazing to just hold someone’s hand. Especially since that someone was Cas.

When the movie was over, Castiel declared that it was his turn to make lunch. So he sat and watched as Cas whipped up Dean’s favorite burger, just for him. They chatted easily about the movie, their conversation continuing as they sat down to eat.

As soon as they were done, Castiel’s hand found Dean’s thigh again, resting warmly. Dean smiled and leaned into the man, enjoying the thrum of energy the touch sent through his body. He let out a content sigh and turned to press a kiss to Castiel’s shoulder, before lifting his head again to look at him.

Castiel’s eyes were bright with love as he leaned in to press a kiss to Dean’s lips, just for a moment, then pulled away. He cupped Dean’s face, brushing a thumb across Dean’s lips. “We have all day,” he said. “Will you join me on another walk?”

Dean just nodded. He would go anywhere with Cas.

—————

This time as they walked Castiel took Dean’s hand in his, leading him through the woods. They spent a couple hours just talking, enjoying each other’s company. Conversation flowed easily between them, then eventually drifted into a comfortable silence.

Dean noticed Castiel was thinking about something, he appeared to be deep in thought. He almost seemed sad, which Dean didn’t understand. They were having such a nice time, he didn’t know what could be getting to him.

They walked a little further, until they came around a bend in the path and Dean was surprised to find a pond that he’d never noticed before. It was rimmed with green grass and white flowers, and a couple rabbits were nibbling at the plants on the far shore.

“This is one of my favorite spots,” Castiel said, looking out over the water. “My Dean and I come here sometimes, just to sit and talk.”

Dean watched Castiel as he spoke, noticing the other man still seemed quite melancholy. He was staring out at the pond, but his mind seemed to be far away.

Castiel looked down at Dean’s hand in his own. “Dean. I don’t know what he told you, but you do not need to do this if you don’t want to.” He looked up at him, eyes shining brightly, face furrowed with deep concern. “I love you very much. But to know that our relationship was born out of something you didn’t want would destroy me. I would rather remain just your friend than do that to you.” His eyes were sad, but determined. “We can call it all off, right now, if that’s what you want.”

Dean was stunned, and he stared at Castiel. For a moment he truly considered it. He didn’t have to play along with Gabriel’s little game. He could refuse, Gabriel would probably cave and send him back, and he could go back to life as usual.

But then he looked at Cas, saw the fear and sadness in the angel’s eyes. He found himself thinking about everything Cas had ever done for him. He’d always known how much Cas had sacrificed for him, but he’d never really thought about how selfless the man was. He seemed to be singularly focused on making Dean happy. On protecting him and helping him, in any way that he could.

Dean’s mind was made up, he didn’t need any more time to think it over.

Dean grinned, feeling suddenly reckless and carefree. “I love you,” he said, stepping in closer to Cas. “It’s like you said before. I think we really have had some kind of bond, ever since you hauled my ass out of hell. But it’s so much more than that, too.” He reached up to run a hand over Castiel’s face, enjoying the way the other man lit up under his touch. “You’ve been taking care of me, ever since. And I would do anything for you. I can’t believe I’ve gotten this damn lucky, that this is the future I get to look forward to.”

They were suddenly both moving, and they met in the middle, lips meeting in a searing kiss. A real kiss. Castiel’s strong arms wrapped around Dean’s waist, pulling him closer, and Dean’s arms went around the other man’s neck, fingers tangling in his hair. Their lips fit together perfectly, tongues deepening the kiss. Castiel moved with practiced grace, while Dean explored for the first time. Dean could feel desire rising, demanding and craving. He kissed Cas more desperately, feeling his need overtaking him.

Cas finally pulled back, both of them breathing hard as they stared at each other for a moment.

Dean licked his lips, eyes flickering from Castiel’s mouth back up to his eyes. “I’m ready,” he whispered, catching himself by surprise. But his body agreed, he didn’t want to wait anymore. “More than ready.”

Castiel’s eyes grew dark and there was a new intensity about him. “Okay. Come,” he took Dean’s hand again and lead him back towards the bunker. It took them awhile to get there, neither of them able to resist pausing to trade kisses along the way.

They finally made it back to the bunker, and Cas lead him down the stairs and down the hall, and Dean’s heart raced with anticipation as they stepped into their room. It looked the same as it had the day Dean had appeared in their bed, only now it held so much more weight for him. He could see his life mixed with Castiel’s now, and the room just felt right.

He turned to Cas with a smile and pressed a firm kiss to his lips, heart too full for words.

Cas just kissed him back, and he found the hem of Dean’s shirt, slowly starting to tug upward. “Is this okay?”

Dean nodded. “Yes.” He let the other man pull his shirt off before he helped divest Cas of his. He found himself fascinated by Castiel’s well defined chest, and he ran his fingers over the smooth skin.

Castiel hummed softly, ducking his head to press a kiss to Dean’s neck. “Lay down on the bed for me, Dean,” he murmured.

Dean shuddered, loving the easy dominance in Castiel’s voice. He kicked off his shoes and socks before climbing onto the bed, laying out on his back. He looked up at Castiel, still standing there. He watched with wide eyes as the man stripped naked, and he couldn’t help but admire his cock, hard and ready. Dean licked his lips as Cas slowly started to crawl onto the bed and up the length of his body.

Dean gasped as Cas trailed kisses from his belly button upward, pausing to flick a tongue over his oh so sensitive nipple. Dean whimpered, hips jerking. His cock was fully hard now and straining to get free from his jeans. Castiel’s mouth continued upward, kissing and sucking a trail up Dean’s neck to his ear. Somehow he managed to hit each of Dean’s most sensitive spots perfectly.

“You should be aware, Dean,” Castiel murmured, voice soft on Dean’s ear. “I know your body better than my own.” He nipped gently at Dean’s earlobe. “I know all of your deepest desires, and every button to push to drive you crazy.”

Dean shuddered with that promise, already knowing it to be true. God he wanted that, wanted it desperately.

Cas pulled back to look at Dean. “Your Castiel won’t know you this well, not yet. You will have to give him time to learn. But tonight I will give you a small preview.” His hand was suddenly gently gripping Dean’s cock through his jeans, stroking slowly.

Dean groaned, thrusting his hips into Castiel’s hand. “Please, Cas. Come on, you’re killing me.”

Castiel just smiled, continuing to tease Dean. “Will you let me have you tonight?”

Dean gasped, Castiel’s words sending a full body shiver through him. “Yes Cas,” he easily agreed. He felt like Cas had him under a spell, he knew just what to say to make him submit.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, pressing a gentle kiss to Dean’s lips.

Dean felt himself relax, all of his worry and stress was slipping away. All he could focus on was Cas. He watched with hooded eyes as Castiel moved lower again, hands easily divulging Dean of his jeans and briefs, leaving him naked.

Then suddenly Castiel’s mouth was on his cock and Dean cried out. His tongue moved up and down his length with practiced ease, and Dean’s head was spinning as he teased him perfectly. He knew exactly where Dean was the most sensitive, knew just how to make Dean squirm and moan.

After a few minutes of teasing Castiel pulled off, moving to kiss Dean again. “No coming yet,” he said, voice thick. “I want you to wait until I’m inside you.” He searched Dean’s face. “Would you like that, Dean?”

Dean felt like he could barely breathe. He still couldn’t believe this was going to happen, but fuck he wanted it. “Yes Cas, please. I need you.”

Castiel was pleased, and he leaned in to kiss Dean again. “Roll over on your stomach, it will be easier that way.”

Dean shook his head. “No, please Cas, I wanna see you.” His hands went to Castiel’s face. “Please.”

Cas nodded. “Okay. It may hurt a little more.”

“I don’t care.” Dean surged up to kiss him again.

Castiel returned the kiss for a moment longer, then pulled away again. “Just lay back and let me take care of you.”

Dean watched as Castiel pulled something from the bedside table, and he realized it was lube. He watched in fascination as Cas slicked his fingers, and the next thing he knew they were pushing between Dean’s legs. He gasped when they found his entrance, teasing it for a moment before gently pushing one finger inside.

Dean actually whimpered as Cas started to work him open, absolutely blown away by the intense feeling of being opened up and lovingly prepared. It was so intimate, and it felt amazing.

Then Castiel’s fingers brushed that special bundle of nerves inside him and Dean cried out as a sharp bolt of pleasure shot through him.

“Oh fuck, Cas!” Dean gasped out, hips jerking, fingers digging into Castiel’s shoulders.

Cas just chuckled and continued to work more fingers inside him, until Dean was nearly begging and Cas was satisfied that he was ready. Dean let out a little whimper as the fingers were pulled free, but the next thing he knew he could feel the thick head of Castiel’s cock brushing against his rim, and without thinking twice he spread his legs further, bringing them up to hook around Castiel’s hips.

Castiel kissed him just as he started to push inside, and his mouth swallowed Dean’s moans.

There was a bit of pain, but it was entirely overwhelmed by pleasure. Dean threw his head back as Cas continued to push into him, slowly working his way inside, inch by inch. He was gasping when Cas was finally there, filling him so wonderfully, and he was still for a long moment, letting Dean adjust.

Finally Dean couldn’t stand it anymore and he started to beg. “Please Cas, I’m good, please move.”

Castiel did as Dean asked, slowly starting to thrust into him. He moved steadily, making sure to push into Dean’s prostate with each pass, sending wonderful pleasure racing through him.

“I love you,” Cas murmured, pressing kisses to Dean’s neck and jaw. His hips continued to move steadily, and he gathered Dean’s legs in his arms, pushing them up further so he could drive in deeper.

Dean let out a deep moan at the new position. “Oh fuck. Love you too, Cas,” he gasped out.

God, this was so much more, so much better, unlike anything Dean ever expected. It was everything.

“Please, Cas,” Dean begged, ready and desperate for more. “Harder, please…”

Cas didn’t hesitate, his hips snapped sharply, increasing the pace of his thrusts. One hand gripped Dean’s shoulder and the other gripped his hip, holding him firmly in place as he fucked him.

“Oh hell, yes,” Dean gasped, arching his back to meet Castiel’s sharp thrusts. He pushed up against the other man’s hands, incredibly aroused by how easily he held him in place.

“You are not going to last much longer,” Castiel murmured, cock driving a little harder. “I can tell.”

Dean whimpered and shook his head. He didn’t want it to be over yet, but he was already so close, simply too overwhelmed to drag it out any longer.

Castiel leaned in and kissed Dean on the lips, then let his mouth trail to Dean’s ear. His hand reached down to grip Dean’s cock, starting to gently stroke it. “Then come for me, Dean.”

Dean cried out as his body immediately obeyed, his orgasm crashing over him as Castiel fucked him through it. The pleasure seemed to last forever as Castiel’s thrusts grew fast and erratic, until finally he too came with a groan and stilled inside Dean.

Dean’s arms were tightly wrapped around Castiel’s shoulders. He was still breathing hard and his body still quivered with fading pleasure. But he didn’t want Cas to go yet, didn’t want to lose his strong weight pressing him into the soft bed.

But after a minute he did finally let Cas pull away, if only to grab a towel to clean them both up. Once that was done Cas came back to his arms. Dean let out a long sigh and pillowed his head to Castiel’s chest.

“I can see why the other me is so possessive of you,” Dean said with a snort.

Castiel laughed softly. “I tried to explain that it’s irrational to be jealous of a different version of himself, but he doesn’t care.”

“Just make sure to change the sheets before he gets home,” Dean said, grinning up at Cas. “They’re going to be a mess.” He craned his head up to press a lingering kiss to Castiel’s lips.

“I imagine they will be,” Castiel said, raising an eyebrow at Dean. “It’s only four o’clock, and Dean said we have most of the night.”

Dean’s heart jumped, excited to get to spend more time exploring with Cas. “Great. Let’s make the best of it.”

—————

It was early in the morning when they were woken to the feeling of the bed dipping. This time Cas was there to stop Dean from going for the gun.

“It’s Gabriel,” Cas muttered, still half asleep even as he held Dean firmly, not letting him quite reach the gun.

“Heya Dean-o!”

Dean groaned, collapsing back onto Castiel’s chest. “Right.” He shifted so he could look up at the man standing on his bed without fully untangling himself from Cas. “I guess it’s time to go home now, isn’t it?”

“Yep.” Gabriel was grinning, looking quite pleased. “You did good, kid. Although this is so much more than I expected,” he said, waving a hand at their naked bodies tangled in the sheets. “A simple love confession would have sufficed.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Then why didn’t you send me home this afternoon?”

Gabriel shrugged his shoulders. “You were having so much fun. And besides, now I know for sure you won’t mess things up with your Cas back home.” He waved his hand. “Say your goodbyes, it’s time to hit the road.”

Dean’s heart clenched suddenly, and he looked up at Cas. He could see the same bittersweet emotion in his eyes. “I guess it’s not really goodbye, right?” Dean said. “I’ll see you soon, and you’ll see me as soon as I get home from that hunt.”

Castiel nodded. “Right. Not goodbye at all.” He cupped Dean’s face in his hand, running his thumb over his cheekbone. “I love you.”

Dean smiled and leaned into the touch. “I love you, too.”

They came together for one last lingering kiss, sharing a long look when they pulled apart.

Dean finally turned back to Gabriel. “Ok. Take me home.”

Gabriel snapped his fingers, and in a flash Dean was alone in his bed again. Gabriel and Cas were gone, as was every sign he’d ever shared his room with another person. He looked down at his body and saw he was back in the t-shirt and briefs he’d been in when he’d left. He reached over to check his phone and saw he hadn’t lost any time, it was still the same date. So likely nobody knew he’d been gone.

Dean realized that after all that, he could still just stay in bed, never tell anyone what happened. If he didn’t confess his love to Cas, then nothing would change, they would just continue on as best friends. It was certainly the easier road, far easier than coming out to everyone.

But then he’d miss out on everything he’d experienced over the last several days. Just the thought of never kissing Cas again made his stomach twist into knots. He couldn’t let that happen, now that he knew what he could have, he’d never be able to live without it.

Dean sat up in bed, suddenly needing to go to Cas. He needed to see his Cas, to make sure he was still there, waiting for him. He quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and left his room, crossing the hall and bursting into Castiel’s room without knocking.

Cas was there, awake and sitting up in his bed. He was reading a book, wearing his standard suit and trench coat. He looked up at Dean in surprise, brows furrowing. “Dean? What’s wrong?”

Dean stood there frozen for a moment, then suddenly lunged forward, climbing into the bed and straddling Castiel’s lap. He took the other man’s face in his hands and kissed him firmly, grinning into the kiss when he felt Cas immediately start to kiss him back, strong arms coming up to circle his waist.

Dean finally pulled away, looking into Castiel’s shocked face, full of so much hope that it hurt. He grinned. “I love you, Cas.”

Castiel’s breath caught, and it took him a moment to find his words. “I love you too, Dean,” he managed, voice thick and rough.

Dean let his forehead rest against Castiel’s. “I promise I’ll explain everything in the morning. But for now, will you just lay with me while I sleep? I need you here with me.”

“Anything for you, Dean,” Castiel said, his hand coming up to cup Dean’s jaw.

Dean’s heart soared at the familiar touch.

—————

Three years later...

“He’d better be gone,” Dean grumbled, throwing open the bunker door and stomping down the steps. The hunt was done and handled, and all Dean wanted was to go to sleep in his own bed, with his own angel.

“You know it’s irrational to be jealous of a past version of yourself, Dean,” Sam said, rolling his eyes as he followed him down the stairs.

“Cas said that too, don’t care,” Dean snapped.

It wasn’t just the sharing. It was facing the version of himself who had denied his love for Castiel for so long. Had almost been too scared to ever let it happen. He’d been terrified that somehow his past self would fuck it up, take it all away from him.

His hand went to his chest, double checking that the vile with Castiel’s grace was still where it belonged. He always feared losing it on a hunt, but this week he’d feared losing it for a different reason. But it was still there, where it belonged. Dean sighed. “I just want life to go back to normal.”

“Okay, okay,” Sam said. “I’m sure he’s gone, just like you said he would be. I’m going to bed.” He turned the corner heading for his room.

Dean marched down the hall and threw open his bedroom door. He was incredibly relieved to see Cas there, sleeping in bed, alone.

He also noticed he’d showered and changed the sheets, just like he’d suggested he should three years ago, when he’d been the one in that bed. That made Dean smile. Castiel always cared so much about making him happy.

Dean quietly stripped down to just his t-shirt and briefs before climbing into bed. He slipped under the covers and snuggled up to Castiel’s chest, sighing softly when the other man’s arms automatically wrapped around him.

“Welcome home,” Castiel murmured, still half asleep, his hand rubbing Dean’s back. “You and Sam both okay?”

“Not a scratch,” Dean said, pleased that Cas always checked on Sam too. “And the vamp hybrids are no more.”

“Good, then I hope we can take a couple of days off,” Castiel said, kissing Dean’s forehead. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” Dean said. “I hated sharing you with him.”

Castiel chuckled. “Yes, I know. But he’s gone now, it’s just us.”

“Good.” Dean smiled, already feeling his irritation fading away now that he didn’t have to deal with his past self anymore. “Okay, I’ve been driving all night, and I know you haven’t gotten much sleep at all, if I can recall,” he said, propping his head up on Castiel’s chest and giving him a cheeky grin. “So let’s get some sleep, we can make up for lost time in the morning.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I know you need a break anyway, past me wore you out.”

Castiel laughed. “Yes, yes you did.”

Dean leaned down to press a soft kiss to Castiel’s lips, then settled back into his arms, pillowing his head on the other man’s shoulder. He let out a long, content sigh. “Love you, Cas.”

“I love you too, Dean.”

[AN: Thank you SO MUCH for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Comments and reblogs are <3!! Also on AO3.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Every Time, a SPN 13x18 “Bring ‘Em Back Alive” Coda

           He needed something to do. To keep him busy and his hands full and his mind… Research was asking too much – his focus shot and lost back in the Apocalypse World along with the others. Sam didn’t even ask him – walking towards the archives without a single glance back. There’s not much that could be said anyway. Anything Dean said would have only hurt, his nerves still too frayed and raw from it all. And Sam… he recognized that empty space in his brother’s eyes. All he could give him was time alone. There was always later.

           Dean – he can’t be alone.

           “C’mon,” he says to Cas, “Help me move them.” Cas nods, moving with him towards the nearby bodies: the demons that fell in battle. Dean struggles to lift one, while Cas has the other two by their wrists, dragging them towards the hunter.

           “Where would you like them?”

           “Bring ‘em outside?” Dean suggests, “We can pile them up and burn the bodies?” Cas nods, and turns around towards the stairs. He pulls the dead weight behind him as if they were two well-dressed Hefty bags. Dean feels like the demon in his arms weight more than a Baby Grand.

           He’s halfway up the stairs when he bumps into Cas. His angel is empty-handed, and tilts his head.

           “Do you need help?”

           “N-no,” Dean says, wheezing, “I got – I got this. You should, uh… go get the rest.” Cas nods, stepping past him to collect the others that were thrown from Gabriel’s wrath. Dean breaks into a full sweat carrying his new friend out the door and towards the pile forming outside. It gets harder, once past the Bunker’s entrance. He nearly trips, his legs tangling with that of his new friend’s.

           ‘Come on… Winchester,’ he thinks, grunting, ‘You can… you can do this. It’s just a stupid demon… you can do this.’ Dean feels his rage spiking once more with each step he takes. The demon’s body shouldn’t be this heavy, but the hunter doesn’t remember ever having to carry this much weight. At the pile, he snaps. He lifts the corpse and hurls it at the others, his shoulder firing in protest.

           “Son of a –“ he groans, hand to his wound. His steps falter backwards, and Dean finds himself flat on his ass.

           “Dean!”

           Cas runs up to him, kicking up dust and gravel as he slides to his side. His hand covers Dean’s over his shoulder, while his other hovers near Dean’s face. “You’re hurt,” he says, blue eyes flitting across Dean’s pained face. The hunter focuses on his eyes, trying to distract from the wasps that are making nest in his shoulder. Cas’s fingers twitch near Dean’s temple. He asks, “May I?”

           “When do you need to ask?”

           Cas rolls his eyes, but huffs fondly. He lays his palm flat against Dean’s face – a different approach from his usual two fingers. Dean bites back the soft gasp, instead choosing to let out a slow, shaky breath.

           ‘The safer option…’

           He feels the grace pour through him, how his shoulder knits itself back together. The hot, sharp stabbing pain numbs to a warm ache – the kind that comes from a hard day’s work. Dean can see Cas calling his power back, his eyes shutting off to his usual blue. His hand pulls away a beat after that.

           “I’ll finish here,” Cas says, “Sit.” Dean tries to push himself up, but Cas’s hand still holds tight to his shoulder. His angel pushes him back down, “Sit.” He doesn’t try it again. Instead, Dean watches Cas drag the last two bodies over. Cas arranges them as best he could before stepping away. With the flick of his wrist, the first demon catches flame.

           Dean focuses on that: hypnotized by the fire. How it trails along the suit jacket, jumping from body to body. How it eats away at the skin, melting the bodies into one. How warm he feels as the fire grows and grows until it roars in front of him.

           “I’m sorry, Dean.”

           The hunter turns his head slightly, where Cas sits next to him. His knees are bent, and his hands hang loosely between them. Dean raises a brow.

           “What for?”

           “Being away?” Cas starts, “Not being there to join you in the other world… to bring back Jack and Mary… not being able to convince Gabriel to stay –“

           “Whoa, whoa, Cas don’t – don’t beat yourself up over this,” Dean says, chuckling, “That’s s’posed to be my job.”

           “But, Dean I –“

           “No, Cas,” Dean stops him, “You did all that you could. S’why I wanted you here and not… not there.” He swallows around the heart-shaped lump in his throat. His angel doesn’t look convinced.

           “But I could have had your back,” Cas continues, “Obviously Ketch did not.”

           “He actually proved to be more helpful than we thought,” Dean admits, “Besides… not like I wouldn’t have gotten hurt over there with you. Would have been throwing myself left right center into every shot to make sure you wouldn’t get hit.”

           “Very noble,” Cas snorts, “But also very stupid.”

           “Wouldn’t be me if it wasn’t a bit of both.”

           “That is true,” Cas says, “Still… my mind would have been more at ease if I was there… with you.”

           Dean frowns, shifting in discomfort. “If you were,” he says, “You wouldn’t have gotten the chance to reunite with Gabriel.” His words have the opposite affect, Cas breaking their gaze and looking back out into the fire.

           “And what a reunion,” Cas grumbles, “Helping him return to full power only to leave us in our hour of need… probably back in Monte Carlo with his porn stars.” He exhales sharply, wringing his hands together. “He just… he just left. Like always. Like all of them.”

           Dean inches closer, his hand edging around his angel’s personal space. “Like who?”

           “My family,” he shrugs, “It seems like every time I think the angels… my brothers and sisters… that they might finally be on my side… my hopes are dashed even before they can take flight. Why does this keep happening?”

           Cas’s shoulders hunch in on themselves, and Dean can see the normally clear blue eyes glass over with unshed tears. Dean crosses the difference, taking Cas’s hands in his, forcing him to look at him.

           “They’re a bunch of assholes, Cas,” Dean says, “They got their heads so far up their feathers, they can’t think straight. It’s their loss that they don’t want you, ‘specially since you’re ready to give them so many chances. You still have us, though.”

           “Yes,” Cas agrees, rapidly shifting towards annoyance, “Although your track record is not as clean as theirs.” Dean feels heat creep up his neck, but holds firm to Cas’s hands.

           “I’m… I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean says, looking away from his angel’s piercing gaze, “You wanted to be there… to fight with me. But that’s why… that’s why I couldn’t wait. I needed to go while you weren’t there.”

           “What are you talking about? What do you mean?”

           “You’re always ready to follow me no matter what Cas,” Dean yells, “Always… always there by my side even if it gets you killed. I just got you back… that place… that place just reminds me of all it took from me. And even though you’re here, you weren’t. And that hurt. I couldn’t… I didn’t want to risk it.”

           “And you?” Cas asks, “You were willing to go even if it might have killed you? Or trapped with no way home? What would I have done if you did not come back in time?”

           “Carry on, Cas,” Dean says, “You and Sam. Between the two of you… you wouldn’t have needed me. S’not like I did much with the time I had there…”

           “You can be so… frustrating.”

           Dean turns back, eyes wide at the pure force and grace interwoven into Cas’s voice. His angels eyes glow bright, and he’s clutching at Dean’s hand like a life raft on a stormy sea.

           “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you didn’t return. Or Sam… Dean, don’t let this one misstep define you –“

           “It’s not just one, Cas!” Dean talks over him, “There’s been so many… it has to be me. There’s no other –“

           “No, Dean,” Cas stops him. Dean feels Cas’s grace again, trailing up his body like static, buzzing a sweet hum under his skin. Dean lets it wash over him, dredging up the bad feelings in his heart and pushing them far away. Tearing them down so they don’t sit there, crushing his soul. He sighs and leans into his angel.

           “You mean so much to me. To all of us. You say you’ve made mistakes, and you might think they’re all horrible and unforgiveable. But look – we’re still here. I’m here. Because we care about you, and there’s probably little you can do to make us stop caring. Please, don’t wallow in your burdens. Share their weight, so we can help you lift them.”

           Dean shudders, the grace dancing up his spine, and tickling the base of his skull. His eyes fall shut, overcome with the pure truth Cas is threading into him. The grace still pulsing throughout Dean’s system making each of Cas’s words shine like stars on a night deep in the country.

           “If I do that,” Dean whispers, voice rough, “You gotta… you gotta do the same. Two way street.”

           “We’re in this together,” Cas agrees, “I’d do anything for you.”

           “Same here.” He shivers, more from the breeze this time. Cas pulls away, his eyes returning to their normal, but still somehow ethereal shade.

           “You should go in,” Cas tells him, “I’ll make sure the fire’s out.” Dean nods, standing on unsure footing. He walks back in a haze, barely noticing the slight differences – the Bunker’s unnatural lighting, the central heater, and the musty smell of ash. Dean comes back to himself when he notices Sam at one of the tables in the front room.

           He looks up at him for a beat before returning to his book. Dean recognizes Sam’s posture, and knows that no matter how hard he stares, he’s not taking in a thing.

           ‘Share the weight…’

           Dean strides over to Sam, taking the seat opposite him. This time the younger Winchester doesn’t look up.

           “Talk to me.”

           That gets the reaction he’s looking for. Sam startles, the book slipping through lax fingers.

           “What?”

           “Tell me your feelings,” Dean starts, “You look like you’ve just been through the emotional wringer. And I don’t know what I can do to make you feel better because I don’t know what you’re thinking. So… I wanna know.” He folds his hands together, “Talk.”

           Sam watches him, wary. But he doesn’t stay silent for long. Dean can see the dam behind his brother’s eyes threatening to burst, and his presence pushes it along.

           “It’s… Gabriel,” Sam admits, “I… I really thought he would stay y’know? He seemed… he seemed different. Like he might have been done running and ready to get back in the game. I mean, I thought we were finally getting somewhere with him.” He chuckles weakly, the end sounding wet to Dean’s ears.

           “He really reminded me of myself, y’know,” Sam continues, “That’s why I thought… it might be different. That if I could get him on our side, it would be another win – and we’d be one step closer to saving the world. I spent so long running, and finally I felt good about where we are and what we were doing. And now… he’s gone and thrown me back into this limbo I thought I had left behind! Are we really doing what’s right or is the only answer to… to run?”

           “Now you stop that,” Dean says, voice low, “You and I both know that running doesn’t solve a problem – just keeps you from having to face it. Gabe’s actions are not a reflection of you. You… I’m so damned proud of you, Sam. Yes, it’s up to us to save the world. And to see you so happy and sure of yourself… it makes me feel like what we’re doing is the right thing, too. Don’t let one scaredy-cat archangel upend your entire life.”

           Sam fights the smile that’s threatening to spill over, but Dean’s gaze brings it forward. He looks down at his book, and flips the pages back and forth, searching within those words for any he wants to say. Someone speaks up before he could respond.

           “Dean is right,” Cas says, walking towards the brothers, “Sam, you prove time and time again that no matter what knocks you down, you power through. Your ability to… to always keep fighting, it inspires me. And you know that no matter the battle, you never have to do it alone?” He rests his hand on Sam’s shoulder, smiling as Sam reaches up to it in solidarity. Cas smiles and pulls away, moving towards Dean to sit next to him.

           “This is a nice turn around,” Sam says, “The mood, that is.”

           “Maybe it’s the dead bodies,” Dean jokes, “Or lack thereof?”

           “Could be,” Sam laughs, “Y’know, I thought you’d really let this get to you, Dean.”

           “It almost did,” Dean admits, “But… sometimes you need to be reminded that you aren’t alone.” He smiles at Cas, his heart skipping every other beat, “And that whenever the odds were against us, we proved that the Winchesters always came out on top.” He winks, “All three of us. Every time.”

           Sam watches the two, smiling sadly. ‘If only I could have an angel like that…’

           “Anyway,” Dean says, turning back to his brother, “We need to get to work. What books ya got there?”

           “Take your pick.” Dean grabs the top two and hands one to Cas. They all turn back to their research, letting the quiet speak volumes.

           Sam doesn’t say anything when Dean’s hand slips under the table. Nor when Cas’s joins it moments later. He prays, and hopes it’s enough.

[queerwolfsstuff]

Complete Dean & Castiel Scenes Full Transcription from SPN 12x10 “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets”

You read that right. Because my writing partner @anyrei and I are working on a canon-compliant fic behind the scenes exploration of the relationship between Dean and Castiel, I have transcribed every scene between them in the most recent episode. And since I’m not a greedy bitch, I’m sharing it here for any author or person who wishes to utilize this for reference

12x10 Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets Transcription of Every Scene between  Dean and Cas.

Scene 1: in the bunker, war room thingie:

Sam: Yeah, I was looking at that earlier. [sighs] Cas has been busy, huh?

Dean: Yeah, busy not finding Kelly Kline or her Rosemary’s baby.

[chair slides as Sam sits down, Dean staring at the board]

Dean (cont): I mean, how’s a chick like this just fall off the map

Sam: Well, I think that’s what he’s trying to figure out. Hey, you, uh, you hear from mom yet?

Dean: Yeah, she called last night, said she’s got a line on a shapeshifter in Atlanta. [Dean moves to lean against table] I said we could come help, and she said, “Don’t bother.” Apparently, she’s “got it”.

Sam: [chuckles] Then she’s probably got it.

Dean: [scoffs] Yeah.

Sam: Mom’s good.

Dean: I just think she’s jumped back into this a little quick, don’t you?

Sam: I don’t think we have the kind of mom who’s gonna stay home and make us chicken soup for dinner, you know?

[beat, Dean looks annoyed.]

Sam: You talk to Cas yet?

Dean: No.

Sam: [scoffs] So, what, you’re just gonna keep walking past each other in the kitchen, not saying a word?

Dean: [not looking up, bringing cup to his mouth] Maybe.

Sam: Look, yes, Cas killed Billie, but he saved us. He saved mom. How long are you gonna stay pissed?

Dean: I’m not pissed that he cares about us, you know. I’m – I’m grateful, but Billie said there would be “cosmic consequences” if that deal got broken. You have any idea what that means?

Sam: No.

Dean: Neither do I. But I’m pretty sure it ain’t jellybeans and g-strings.

Sam: My point is, Cas thought he was doing the right thing.

[footsteps approach, off-camera Cas starts speaking]

Cas: I was doing the right thing.

Dean: [looks in direction of Cas’s voice] You sure about that?

Cas: [still off-screen] Yes.

Dean: [not looking as Cas walks into the shot] Yeah? Well, I’m not so sure. And when the other shoe drops –

Cas: I’ll deal with it.

Dean: [scoffs]

Cas: I have to go.

Sam: [spins in chair following Cas’s path] Got a lead on Kelly?

Cas: [finally turns to face them]: No. This is personal.

Dean: [still not looking at Cas] Meaning what?

Cas: Another angel. An old friend. He called out for help.

Dean: Oh. [turns to face Cas] Good old reliable angel radio.

Cas: He was begging for help and then he just stopped. I need to know if he’s still alive.

Sam: Yeah, [stands up] all right. Well… we’ll come with you.

Cas: [nods slightly and quirks eyebrow at Dean] Both of you?

Dean: [shies away from Cas’s gaze, after a beat responds] Sure. [stands up] Yeah, we could help. [locks eyes with Cas] Gotta make sure you don’t do anything else stupid.

Cas: [sighs and looks away]

Sam: [gives Dean a pointed and slightly frustrated look, silently communicating to Dean to give Cas a break].

Scene 2: in the Impala en route

[car is silent but for the engine of Baby purring]

[Sam looks at Dean, rubs his chin, then looks back at Cas, who looks away from Sam. Sam is obviously uncomfortable]

Sam: All right, who wants music?

Dean: [not taking eyes off of the road] I’m good.

Sam: [looks at Dean in surprise] You– [sighs]

[Cas groans]

Sam: Okay. [after a beat looks back at Cas for a moment] Cas, is there anything specific we should know about your friend?

[Cas pointedly ignores Sam’s question, turning to look out the window]

[Sam closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose]

Sam (cont): All right. Guys, you know what? This – this silent treatment [Cas turns to look at the back of Dean’s head] thing, it’s silly. It’s not gonna work. Whatever we’re walking into, we should, you know, probably have an actual plan.

Cas: [rolls his eyes and sighs] What do you wanna know?

Dean: Oh, he speaks.

Sam: [raises hand in cease and desist motion] Enough. Cas, you said [Cas narrows his eyes at the back of Dean’s head] when you heard Benjamin, he – he was screaming.

Cas: It was um… [voice breaks slightly] Look, Benjamin wouldn’t call for help lightly. And he wouldn’t put himself in harm’s way if he could help it.

Dean: [sarcastic tone] Wow, this Benjamin seems like he’s pretty cool, you know. Like he wouldn’t make any half-cocked, knee-jerk choices.

Cas: [sardonic tone] Yeah, you know what I like about him? Is that he’s sarcastic, but he’s thoughtful and appreciative, too.

Dean: [turns to face Cas, momentarily losing control of Baby] Now what is that supposed to mean?

Sam: Okay, okay, the road, road. Dude, watch the road.

Dean: [turns back to the road, a horn blares in the background, he waves Sam off] I got it.

Sam: [half rolls his eyes before changing the subject] Anything else, Cas?

Cas: [shakes his head and sighs] Benjamin is always very careful. Long ago, he found a powerfully devout vessel in Madrid, and her faith, it… [takes a breath and looks up] she gave him everything – her trust and her body.

Dean: Wait, so Benjamin’s a woman.

Cas: Benjamin is an angel. His vessel is a woman. But it – it’s – it’s more than that. She’s not just a vessel. She’s…

Sam: [look of understanding dons his face] She’s his friend.

Cas: Yeah. Benjamin would never put her in unnecessary danger.

Dean: Okay, well, if this Benjamin is so careful, then what happened?

Cas: I don’t know. That’s what I need to find out.

[Sam looks pointedly at Dean, who’s still staring straight ahead]

Scene 3: in the arcade place Benjamin was killed

Sam: [interrogating the employee there the night of the murder] The police report is calling it a stabbing.

[Cas is looking up at the angel wing burns on the wall]

Man: Sure, yeah. That’s the official story. I mean, I was outside, and… Dead woman? No blood? Come on. [scoffs] And these crazy burn marks? It’s a cult thing, right? That’s why the FBI’s–

Cas: [approaches and interrupts] Get out.

Man: What?

Cas: [stares at man] Get out.

Dean: He means we can take it from here. Thanks. [Dean escorts man out of arcade]

Sam: Yeah.

Dean: [partially off-screen talking to man] We’ll call you when we’re done.

Sam: [looking at Cas in concern] Dude. You all right?

Cas: [shakes head slightly] No. No. Benjamin and I, we fought together. He was… he was a gifted soldier. I don’t know how this could have happened.

Dean: [notices a silver handle protruding from under one of the arcade games, pulls it out, it’s an angel blade] Got something. [approaches Sam and Cas] Looks like we had a little angel on angel action. [hands blade to Cas]

Cas: [takes it and inspects it] This isn’t Benjamin’s blade. [he can hear indistinct whispering, Cas closes his eyes]

Sam: What?

Cas: [presses fingers to his own forehead, eyes still shut as he listens to the whispering from Lily. He opens his eyes, expression troubled] We have to go. Now. [leaves and the Winchesters follow him.

Scene 4: outside of The Wright Spot, some kind of diner

[The three of them exit the car at the same time]

Sam: All right, who we meetin’?

Cas: His name is Ishim. Before I, uh, commanded my own flight of angels, my own battalion, I served under him with Benjamin.

Dean: And you think he knows what’s going on?

Cas: We’ll find out. You wait here.

Dean: Whoa, wait. Excuse me?

Cas: [turns back to face Dean and Sam] Ishim said to come alone. He doesn’t like humans. [Sam quirks an eyebrow in surprise, Dean looks expectant]

[Cas’s expression quickly changes, eyes narrowing, head tilted]

Cas (cont): If I plan to do anything else stupid, I’ll let you know.

[Cas storms off, leaving the Winchesters outside of the diner. Sam turns to face Dean, they exchange a look]

Scene 5: outside of The Wright Spot to inside with Cas and Ishim

[Dean is pacing back and forth in front of the entrance, Sam is leaning against Baby]

Sam: [arms folded across his chest, staring downwards] And you’re gonna storm in right… [Dean gives Sam an annoyed look before facing the entrance and heading for the door] now. [Sam follows]

[doorbell jingles and Cas turns to see them walking into the diner]

Dean: [catches Cas’s look, sitting at a booth with the two angels, and starts walking over, a small smile on his face] Hey.

Cas: [rolls his eyes and responds in an annoyed tone] Dean.

Dean: Feel a little left out over there. Scoot over. [moves to squeeze into the booth, Sam following, the three of them pressed together]

Ishim: [pours a sugar packet into his coffee] I said to come alone.

Cas: [frustrated tone] These are my friends – my friends who don’t listen very well [turns to look pointedly at Dean. Dean smirks]

Sam: How you doin’? I’m–

Mirabel: We know who you are.

Ishim: Check outside to see if there are others.

[Mirabel leaves]

Cas: I only brought Sam and Dean.

Ishim: As far as you know.

Dean: Well, who wants some pie? [looks up at Ishim with a smirk]

Ishim: [continues to pour packet after packet of sugar into coffee mug] You know, when I knew Castiel, he was a soldier. He was a warrior. He was an angel’s angel.

[Dean regards Ishim with a furrowed brow, Sam also appears unamused, slightly more curious than Dean. Cas has a relatively flat affect]

Ishim (cont): Now look how far he’s fallen.

Dean: How about a little coffee with that sugar?

Ishim: [ignores Dean’s intense gaze then turns to Cas] No wings, no home. Just a ratty old coat and a pair of poorly trained monkeys.

Dean: [eyebrows briefly shoot up in a challenge] Oh. Well, [slowly lifts eyes and holds Ishim’s gaze, flat affect] you can go to Hell.

Cas: Dean, it’s fine.

Sam: [looks over at Cas, expression upset] No. No, it’s not.

Cas: Sam, this isn’t about me. It’s about Benjamin.

Ishim: Now that is refreshingly accurate. But since you brought a couple of extra “people” to our little chit chat, we should go somewhere more private. I have a safe house nearby. [Ishim stands, pulling out some money, looking down at Cas] I’ll go get Maribel. [bills rustling] So nice to see you, old friend. [tosses cash on table in front of Dean] Have some pie.

[Dean looks down at the cash, shrugs, contemplative expression on his face, then moves to grab the money]

Sam: [moves to other side of table] Wow. [clears throat] Hell of a friend, Cas.

Dean: [turns to look at Cas, expression concerned] Why do you let him talk to you like that?

Cas: If Ishim can help me find whoever killed Benjamin, then I have to.

Dean: Okay, yeah, look I-I get that we need super dick there, but, I mean, come on [Dean leans back, looking at Cas with an expression of disbelief]

Cas: The angels that I served with are being killed. So, I will put up with Ishim, I will put up with everything else, and so will you. I have to go. [Cas pushes at Dean to let him out of the booth, Sam looks down, shaking his head, Dean gets out to let Cas out]

[now outside, back alley after Lily has killed Maribel and attempted to kill Ishim. Cas intervenes, striking her with his angel blade. They make eye contact, Cas has a flashback of a memory]

Cas: I know you. [Cas approaches Lily while she’s on the ground, she kicks him into the wall]

[Sam and Dean round the corner, guns at the ready]

Sam: Hey! [they cock their guns]

Lily: I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt any human. Just let me finish what I started.

Dean: Yeah, not gonna happen, Patches.

Scene 6: in an abandoned church

Cas: [approaching Ishim, who is laid out on a dilapidated sofa] Ishim, let me tend to your wound.

Ishim: [covers wound with shirt and shifts away] I’m fine.

Cas: [sighs deeply] Ishim, how is she still alive?

Sam: [looks up in surprise] Wait a second. You know her?

Cas: Yes.

Ishim: You don’t owe them an explanation.

Dean: Okay, hang on now. Uh, One-eyed Willy back there wasn’t trying to kill us. She was after you. So talk before she kicks in the damn door.

Cas: [appears reticent] Before the apocalypse, angels, um… [shakes head] well, we rarely came to Earth.

Sam: Yeah, uh, basically never, right?

Cas: Right, except this once. [shakes head] Many years ago, there was an anomaly.

Sam: An anomaly?

Ishim: They won’t understand.

Dean: [looks at Cas] Cas, what’s going on?

[flashback to Orono, Maine - 1901]

Sam: [hand over his mouth, clearly shocked, draws back] Cas, you, um…

Cas: We completed a mission. [Looks up at Sam, who isn’t looking back]

Dean: Some mission.

Cas: It was horrific, but it was necessary. It was right.

Dean: [quirks an eyebrow in disbelief] Well, you say so.

[Cas stares at Dean for a beat, who is not making eye contact with Cas]

Sam: And the woman?

Ishim: Lily Sunder. She was a professor of Apocalyptic Literature. Studied angels, speaks fluent Enochian. I took mercy on her by letting her live.

Dean: And now she wants revenge.

Sam: I mean, she’s gotta be what, 100 years old?

Cas: No. More.

Dean: Yeah, but somehow she’s still kicking ass?

Ishim: No. Not somehow. I know what she’s up to. She made some kind of demonic pact. Keeps her young, keeps her strong. Keeps her immune from our powers.

Dean: All right, but we’ll find her, me and Sam.

Cas: [looks at Dean imploringly] No, Dean.

Dean: Cas, she doesn’t care about us, okay? She’s gunning for you guys.

Sam: Yeah, maybe we can reason with her.

Cas: Uh, four dead angels indicate that perhaps she is not reasonable. If she has this dark power, it will take all of us to fight her. [turns to Ishim] And I need to heal your wound.

Sam: Wait – wait a second, Cas. Her family was murdered. I mean, I-I know you were just doing a job, but–

Cas: Are you saying that those angels deserved to die? [turns to look up at Sam]

Sam: [expression distressed] What?

Cas: You think I deserve to die?

Dean: No, no. That’s not what he’s saying.

Cas: [turns to look at Dean] What is he saying?

Sam: I’m saying maybe if we find her [stutters slightly], we can explain to her that you’re different, you know?

Cas: [addresses Sam] Sam, that won’t work. She won’t quit. [Sam makes a put-out face, mouth agape] Think about it, would you?

Ishim: Castiel’s right. It won’t work.

Sam: We have to try.

Dean: He’s right. And we’re not askin’. [Dean and Sam get up and leave]

Scene 7: in abandoned church again, after Sam and Dean find Lily and find out the truth

Dean: [walks into the church through a door and notices Cas, he approaches] Cas?

[Cas is sitting, head in his hand, he groans. Dean approaches and moves to sit beside him] Hey, you okay?

Cas: [sighs] Yeah, I’m fine. [nods] And Ishim is fully recovered.

Dean: [draws back, slightly wary] Yeah, okay. Uh, maybe wish you hadn’t a done that just yet.

Cas: Wait, why?

Dean: [faces Cas] This Lily chick? Says that her daughter was human.

[Cas squints his eyes, perplexed; Dean continues] I think Ishim… I think he’s playing you.

[Cas’s expression is solemn, slightly surprised]

Ishim: You’re back.

[Dean and Cas look at Ishim, Cas’s brow furrowed with distrust] So what’s new?

Cas: [moves to stand, Dean helps him] Is it… is it true, Ishim? [Dean holds onto Cas’s arm, Cas’s expression is angry, accusatory]

Ishim: Is what true?

Cas: [approaches Ishim] Lily Sunder’s daughter, was she human?

Ishim: Who told you that?

Dean: She did. [Dean and Cas slowly approach Ishim side by side] Said you were pretty obsessed.

Ishim: [swaggers up to them] Well, she’s a liar.

Cas: Why would she lie?

Ishim: She’s human. It’s kinda what they do.

Dean: [expression and tone of disbelief] Well, if she’s a liar, she’s pretty good at it. You, on the other hand, kind of suck.

Ishim: [looks at Cas, tone defensive] Who are you gonna believe? Your brother? Or some filthy ape?

[Cas looks at Dean, Dean’s expression is unamused]

Ishim (cont): Who’s always talking down to you, always mocking you.

Dean: You know, Cas and I might not agree all the time. [Cas looks at Dean] but at least he knows who his real friends are.

Cas: [turns back to Ishim, eyes narrowed and head tilted] Why do his words bother you so much, Ishim?

Ishim: Who is he to question my choices? Who is he to question yours?

Cas: [steps closer to Ishim] Well, it seems some of my choices may need to be questioned. [voice getting angrier, louder] Now tell me. The girl – was she human?

Ishim: Oh, you’re not gonna like the answer.

[Dean pulls out an angel blade and approaches, Ishim uses his powers to fling Dean back against a wall, fight ensues between Cas and Ishim. Ishim is winning. Cas is sprawled out and Ishim yanks him forward by his coat]

Ishim (cont): I used to envy you, Castiel. You believe that?

[punches Cas again, Cas headbutts him, Dean slices his own palm to paint an Enochian banishing sigil onto the wall with his blood]

Ishim (cont): You survived Hell. You were chosen by God. [continues to beat the ever loving shit out of Cas] But now look at you. You’re just sad and pathetically weak. [clocks Cas again, Cas collapses against a pew] So now… [adjusts tie and vest] I’m gonna help you. I’m gonna cure you of your human weakness… same way I cured my own – [pulls angel blade out] by cutting it out.

[Ishim approaches Dean as Cas is barely able to keep his eyes open. Dean retreats slightly]

Dean: Don’t move. [hand hovers over the banishing sigil]

Ishim: Do it. You blast me away, you’ll blast away every angel in the room. [Cas is laid out against a turned over pew, he turns to look at Dean] I’ll survive. Castiel, on the other hand, he’s hurt. [Dean looks to Cas] He might live or he might just end up a bloody smear on the wall. [Dean looks conflicted] Roll the dice. [Dean scowls and slowly lowers his hand from the sigil, Ishim smirks] Yeah, that’s what I thought.

[Lily shows up, fight ensues, ass kickings and finally, Cas ganks Ishim]

[Lily is standing over Ishim’s dead body. Sam, Dean, and Cas are off to the side]

Sam: All right, so, uh… [sniffs] what now?

Dean: He’s dead. Are you done?

Lily: [turns to face them] Revenge is all I’ve had for over 100 years. It’s what I am.

Dean: Wrong answer. You’re done. [scowls]

Cas: [shuts eyes] Dean [sighs]. [addresses Lily] I’m sorry. I was wrong [Dean watches Cas, expression concerned and annoyed] And… while it’s true that I didn’t know we were killing an innocent, ignorance is no excuse. [stands to approach Lily] I truly can’t imagine the depths of your loss. This was your child. I can’t imagine the pain. So if you leave here and you find that you can’t forgive me… I’ll be waiting.

Lily: Thank you.

Scene 8: back in the bunker, war room

[Dean and Sam walk into the warroom. Dean is holding a beer. They approach where Cas is sitting.]

Dean: [places the beer in front of Cas] You earned it. [Claps Cas on the shoulder, caressing slightly before walking behind and around him, Sam moves to sit on the table facing Cas]

Cas: [grabs beer] Well, this will do very little for me, but I-I appreciate the gesture.

Dean: [moves to sit in the chair next to Cas] What Ishim said… You’re not weak, Cas. You know that, right? [fixes his gaze on Cas, expression serious]

[Cas shies away from Dean’s stare, expression solemn]

Sam: I mean, obviously, you’ve changed, but it’s all been for the better, man. [Sam gives Cas a sympathetic smile]

Dean: And you have been with us every step of this long, crazy thrill ride. And no matter how crazy it got, you never backed down.

Sam: And that takes real strength.

Cas: [looks between the brothers before looking down at the table] Thank you.

Dean: Cas, I don’t like how the whole Billie thing went down. Okay? I know you think you were doing the right thing. And I’m not mad. I’m worried. Because things like “cosmic consequences” have a habit of biting us in the ass. [Dean stares pointedly at Cas]

Cas: [nods as he keeps Dean’s gaze] I know they do. But I don’t regret what I did, even if it costs me my life.

Sam: [turns head away, expression of staunch refusal and slightly sad] Don’t say that, man.

Dean: So what are you gonna do if you find Kelly and, uh, Lucifer junior? [Dean and Cas lock eyes again] It is a Nephilim, right?

Cas: [shakes his head] Oh, no. It’s more than that. An ordinary Nephilim is one of the most dangerous beings in all of creation. But one that’s fathered by an archangel, the Devil himself? I… I can’t imagine the power. [Dean looks away, unsure and worried]

Sam: But, Cas, at the end of the day, it’s a mom and her kid. I mean, do you – do you think you’ll be able to…

Cas: [looks down with a somewhat sad expression] There was a time when I wouldn’t have [smiles in fond reminiscence, lets out a soft chuckle] hesitated. [shake his head] But now I don’t know.

[Sam gives Cas a sad smile, Dean inhales and changes the subject]

Dean: So what are we gonna do?

Cas: [clucks his tongue and grabs his beer] Let’s drink, and hope we can find a better way.

[Cas salutes Sam and Dean with his beer]

Destiel Bonus:

Lines said in the episode when they were separated.

Cas [to Ishim]: My friendship with Sam and Dean has made me stronger.

Dean [to Lily]: See, Cas is our family, so we can’t let you hurt him.

[i-honestlydon-tcare]

Life So Far, part 2

Hey few followers! So, since I wrote this so long ago, I’m gonna publish the chapters close together. If you didn’t like part 1, honestly I agree, it’s not the best story BUT I promise the story gets better. In my opinion which you will probably take with a grain of salt but okay.

Part 1

Warnings: Language, Domestic abuse, slight violence

Word count: 3544

Dean Winchester had been searching for Cal the Hunter for over a year and a half. No other hunters knew of her and he had wondered, more than once, if she was working for the other side.

     After all when he had met her, she was possessed.

     Sam didn’t know about Dean’s obsession with Cal, and maybe he would have noticed if he wasn’t a little obsessed himself. Both of them were searching for her without the help of the other.

     “Dean, get this, there’s a reported haunting right outside of Astoria, Oregon.” Sam turned the laptop to his brother. The report was obviously a prank, but Sam had caught scent of Cal and he had to follow up on it.

     Dean inspected the report. It was fake, he could tell that much, but he had also found a lead on Cal. He had been on the internet trying to find something to cover up his plan.

     “That looks serious.” Dean said excitedly. “We should go check it out.”

     “Right?” Sam smiled. He laugh inwardly as his brother’s naivete, while Dean did the same.

Cal MacLaughlin stepped over the threshold, a bible clutched to her chest, 

     “Where is the Father today?” Sariah Chang asked. Sariah’s son had passed away a few weeks before and had reported seeing him a few times since.

     “He had a meeting with our Diocese. I was sent instead,”

     “And you are?”

     “I’m Sister Teresa. I’m at a church one town over.”

     Sariah nodded. “Are you here to talk about Joshua?”

     “Yes, sister. You told the Father that you had been seeing him around the house?” Cal asked.

     “I’m not crazy.” Sariah’s eyes stared Cal down, daring her to say differently.

     “I know you’re not.” Cal placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “As a woman of God, I know some things can only be explained through him.” Cal tried to sound convincing, but it had been a long time since she believed in God.

     Sariah led Cal into the living room. They both sat down, and Cal immediately zeroed in on the chocolates centered on the coffee table. She popped a few into her mouth. “Sister, tell me what happened. Starting with... how... Joshua passed on.”

     The small woman folded her hands on her lap. “A few weeks ago was at the store and Joshua was outside playing with some friends. He was in the street and a car-” Her voice broke. “a car was speeding.”

     “Who was driving the car?”

     “The boy next door. He’s a new driver. Reckless.” She shook her head in disgust. “He hit Joshua. His friends said he was asking for me before he died.” Sariah put her face in her hands and sobbed silently.

     “Mrs. Chang, I know this is hard, but you have to go on.”

     Sariah sat up and wiped off her face. “Yes, of course. The funeral was three days after he... passed. the day after that is when I started seeing him.”

     Cal nodded slowly. “Do you have any idea what might be keeping his spirit here?”

     Sariah shook her head. She wouldn’t look Cal in the eyes. “Are you sure?”

     Again she shook her head and looked at the floor.

     Cal sighed. She wasn’t going to find out anything unknown from Sariah Chang. “Thank you for your time, sister.” She stood. “God bless.” Cal left the room and the house. She knew what had to be done, but she would wait until Sam and Dean got there.

“Tell me more about the case.” Dean told Sam.

     Sam had already told Dean everything there was to know. A teen had called the police and said there was a ghost in the backyard. The police checked it out but there wasn’t anything to be found.

     “Did you check out the house? Neighboring houses? Was there a recent death in the family?”

     “None of that.”

     Dean nodded. They both knew it was a hoax. They’d been around long enough to know.

Sariah Chang was making dinner when her husband, Li, got home. He dropped his bags by the front door. The action had always bothered Sariah, but she better than to say something about it.

     Li went straight up the stairs without saying a word.

    “Li?” Sariah called. “Honey? Do you want me to bring dinner up to you?” Sariah heard Li’s footsteps slowly coming back down the stairs and her chest tightened.

     She turned slowly and saw Li in the doorway separating the living room and kitchen. “If I wanted anything from you, don’t you think I would have said something?” He asked menacingly.

     “I’m sorry, Li. I should have known.”

     Her husband shook his head and ground his teeth. “I never should have married you.” He stared Sariah down until her eyes dropped.

     “I’m sorry.”

     Li lunged and gripped her forearm. She tried to get away but she was small and he was angry. “You’re just a little girl. Never grew up, never learned what it means to be an adult. ‘Sorry’ means nothing to me, you bitch!”

     Sariah started to cry. She could smell alcohol on his breath. “Please, Li, just let me go!” She kept trying to pull away but she couldn’t.

     “’Sorry’ doesn’t make up for not watching Joshua. You killed my son! You might as well have been driving the car!” Li lifted his hand to strike Sariah but that was when he saw it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement. He turned his head and screamed.

Sam and Dean spoke with the family at the supposed haunted house. They got nothing that said the house inhabited a ghost. Sam asked to check out the backyard, and still there was nothing. 

     The brothers expected as much, but they didn’t say so.

     They said their cordial goodbyes and left the house. They were about to climb into the Impala when the teenager who called the police came running out of the house shouting for them to wait.

     “What, kid?” Dean asked impatiently. “Got another ghost for us to investigate?”

     “There was never a ghost in the first place.”

     Sam and Dean exchanged eye contact, and silently waited for the boy to continue.

      “There was this woman. She paid me to report a ghost. And she said when the FBI came to investigate I needed to give them this piece of paper.” He handed Sam a slip of paper and dashed back inside.

     Sam looked at the paper. “This is only a few minutes from here.” They climbed into the Impala and he pulled out his phone to google the address. An article came up about a mother who had been seeing her dead son around the house.

     “What do you think, Dean?” Sam asked. “Want to go check it out?”

     “We have the priest outfits in the back?”

Cal sat on her bed reading Lord of the Rings: Return of the King for the hundredth time. She looked at the clock. She had been waiting almost a full day for the Winchesters to hit town. “This is getting ridiculous” She muttered.

     “What is?”

     The voice didn’t catch Cal off guard. Castiel showed up unexpectedly so often that she was always ready for it.

     “Cass!” She turned and looked at the angel. “How you been, baby?”

     “Now is not the time for small talk. The Winchesters are close.”

     “Good. ‘Bout time.”

     “I told you it’s not a good thing. You cannot see them again.”

     “Whatever, baby.” Cal waved her hand dismissively. 

     Cass inhaled and exhaled slowly. “You’re being foolish.”

     Cal smiled and stood from her chair. “Don’t be rude.”

     “You can’t see Dean again.”

     Her smile faded. “And why not?” She asked angrily. “And do not give me that ‘I can’t tell you’ shit, because you don’t answer to anyone anymore. Heaven isn’t calling the shots so you’re free to say whatever the hell you want.”

     Cass opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, then sighed. “I can’t tell you, Calista.”

     “Then I’ll fucking cut it out of you.”

     Neither of them moved for a solid minute. They stared each other down; Cal with anger, Cass with pity.

     “I know you care about him-”

     Cal laughed bitterly and turned so he couldn’t see the influx of tears in her eyes. “You know nothing.”

     “Cal, please. I’m not doing this to hurt you.”

     She sat down on the bed, defeated. “Please tell me why. Why can’t I see him again?”

     Castiel saw her water eyes and inhaled softly. Why does this girl have so much power over me? He wondered. “You’re destined to be with other people. There is a plan, and if you continue down the path you’re on with him, you will both die an untimely death.”

     Desperately, Cal ran her fingers through her long dark hair. “Maybe the plan changed Cass. Maybe what you remember isn’t right. Could things have changed?”

     Castiel watched her sadly. He had never seen her like this. He had been watching Cal all her life. Angels don’t feel love, but he felt attached to her. When he inhabited Jimmy Novak’s body and could finally meet her, he fell head-over-heels in love with her.

     All throughout her life, that happened. Boys and men would fall desperately in love with her but she never felt the same way, until Dean Winchester.

The brothers pulled into the driveway at the Chang’s house and stepped out of the car dressed as priests.

     “Dean, I have a weird feeling about this...”

     Dean raised a speculating eyebrow. “Like good weird or bad weird?” They both leaned forward onto the Impala.

     Sam scrunched up his face. “I.. don’t know.” He said slowly.

     They were quiet for a moment, both silently wondering about Cal the Hunter.

     Same didn’t understand his attachment to her. He didn’t feel anything romantic for her, that was for sure, but he felt an unhealthy need to find her.

     Dean, on the other hand, felt nothing but romantic feelings toward her. He wanted to find Cal, and protect her for the rest of their lives, and even after that.

     They knocked, and the door was answered by a little  woman with drooping shoulders. “May I help you?” She asked.

     “Sariah Chang?”

     “Yes, that’s me,”

     “I’m Father Walsh, and this is Father Williams. We’re here to talk about your son.” Dean folded his hands behind his back.

     “Okay, please come in.” Sariah opened the door wide, and stepped back.

     “I’m going back over to Sariah Chang’s house,” Cal said as she slipped on her nun’s dress.

     Castiel stood in the living room, and listened to the muffled sound of Cal getting ready. “Okay. Why?”

     She stepped out of the bathroom looking much different than before. Her wild hair was pulled back into to her nun’s veil. Her jeans, jacket, and army boots were replaced with beige flats and her ankle length nun’s dress. Still, she radiated power.

     “What?”

     Castiel turned away.

     “Anyway, I’m going back because Sariah is hiding something.”

     Castiel looked over his shoulder. “Please. Be careful. Don’t do anything stupid.”

     Cal would have laughed, but Cass’s voice was filled with worry, and another emotion she had seen many times before. Love.

     “Cass-”

     “You should go. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Sariah’s living room was plain. No decorations or even pictures. Sam and Dean sat across from Sariah.

     “Mrs. Chang, when did your son pass on?” Sam asked.

     Sariah took a deep breath. “A few weeks ago?”

     “And you started seeing him when?”

     “The day after his funeral.”

     “And where did you bury him?”

     Sariah scrunched her eyebrows. “Why doe that matter? Why are you even here? I don’t want to be disrespectful but a sister had already come by and checked on me.”

     Sam and Dean looked at each other, unsure what to say.

     A knock sounded at the door.

     “One moment.” Sariah stood and walked to the door. She opened it. “Sister! What are you doing here?”

     “I felt like there was more we needed to talk about.”

     Dean tensed. He knew that voice.

     “Well, you might as well come in. There are some Fathers here as well.”

     They heard the door close and footsteps coming back to the living room. 

     “Please meet Father Walsh and Williams. This is Sister Teresa.”

     Dean looked up into Cal’s eyes. He stood. “Nice to meet you, sister.” He said hoarsely. They shook hands, their eyes never leaving each others.

“Took you guys long enough to get here. I waiting a full day to work this case and I was finally just going to work it alone, then you two idiots show up.” Cal muttered.

     “What?” Dean put together quickly that Cal was the woman who paid the kid to give them the Chang’s address.

     “I mean my clues weren’t that hard to follow, boys.”

     “Wait, what?” Sam asked.

     “You didn’t know?”

     Sam looked at Dean who was staring at Cal. “I for one didn’t know you were leading us here.”

     “You were following clues weren’t you? I mean, who did you think left them?”

     Dean and Sam looked uncomfortably at each other. Sam spoke first. “I didn’t know who. But... Dean didn’t know we were following clues at all.”

     “Yeah I did. I thought you didn’t know.”

     Cal laughed“You were both following them without the others help. You boys really are a piece of work.”

     “Why not just tell us where you were?” Dean asked.

     “Cass is always watching me. I had to do it behind his back.” Cal stood up and walked to the bathroom.

     Dean raised an eyebrow. “Cass, as in Castiel?”

     “One and the same. He told me he’d be here when I got back.” She closed the door.

     Dean sat down on the bed. A burning feeling spread from his gut up to his ears. Jealousy. “How do you know Cass?”

     “When he came to the ground he just...” She opened the bathroom door, back in her usual jeans and jacket. “found me” She finished.

     Dean stared at Cal, mesmerized by her natural beauty. Long, messy hair. Wild hazel eyes. Clear, but imperfect skin. Battle scars riddled her body and face but somehow they added to her powerful beauty.

     At the same time he felt an overabundance of affection toward Cal, Dean also felt a large amount of envy. He stayed quiet, wondering if Cass had already secured Cal’s heart.

     “Well,” Cal walked back toward Sam and Dean. She seemed to have grown considerably since she changed. “Since you idiots are here, we might as well take care of the Chang’s ghost.”

     “Where is the kid buried?” 

     “Local cemetery. The usual. I’d like to go check out the house again, so maybe we could split up.” Cal looked at the boys, mostly Dean. She forgot how much she liked his face. It was hard and chiseled but boyish charm was in his expressions. She didn’t care if she was meant to be with someone else, and she didn’t take Cass’s warning that they would die young seriously.

     She was a hunter. She doubted she would make it to her silver years.

     Suddenly the door to the hotel room opened. Cal turned and watched Castiel march in. 

     “Where have you been?” Cal asked.

     Cass focused on Sam and Dean. “When did you two get here?”

     “I asked first, asshole. Answer my question.”

     He made eye contact with Cal. “I warned you Calista. This is a dangerous situation for everyone involved.” 

     “Cass, just help us with the case okay? You go with Sam to the cemetery, take the Impala. Cal and I will go check out the house.”

     Cass walked out without saying a word and Sam followed after him.

     Dean sheepishly made eye contact with Cal. “Ready?”

     “Yeah, one sec.” Cal turned to the table in the middle of the room. She grabbed one of her guns and stuffed it in the back of her pants covering it with her jacket. She grabbed her knife that was in a sheath and put it in her boot. “Let’s go.”

The Chang house looked different at night. Angrier. Meaner. It was only 10:00 pm and all the lights in the house were off.

     Cal stepped out of her truck and closed the door quietly. Dean got out much louder. She gave him a dirty look and walked up to the house.

     When Cal reached the front door, she pulled out her lock pick kit. She had the door open in a matter of seconds. It was a gift.

     She stepped into the house, her gun gripped in her right hand, a flashlight in the other. 

     The house was quiet, and Cal stepped lightly to made sure it stayed that way. Suddenly, Dean grabbed her arm. With the life she had led she almost punched him in the face. She held back and stared Dean down.

     “What the hell?” She whispered.

     “I’m sorry.” Dean dropped his gaze, but his hand remained on her arm. Even though her jacket was in between their skin, she still felt out of breath.

     “Are you okay?” She asked.

      Dean’s hand dropped. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

     Cal instinctively took chins and turned his face toward her. “Are you sure, baby?”

     He never answered her.

Castiel stood watching Sam dig into the still-soft earth.

     “Ya know, you’re being a real big help,” Sam said breathlessly.

     “You’re welcome,”

     Sam rolled his eyes and kept digging. He had dug maybe 4 feet in and was feeling more and more uneasy. He hoped Dean was safe... or as safe as he could be.

Cal saw the crazed eyes before she saw the hammer. She was able to push Dean out of the way and met Sariah with a blow to the stomach. The hammer fell as Sariah doubled over. Dean grabbed her weapon off the floor. They watched her warily.

     “Sariah...”

     The small woman looked up at Cal. “Please don’t take him from me.” She whispered. She was still incapacitated from Cal’s blow, at least that’s what Cal thought.

     She lunged at Cal’s legs, and knocked her over. He nails raked over Cal’s stomach and Cal angrily kneed Sariah in the neck. It didn’t deter her. Dean picked her up and threw her to the side. He put his hand out to help Cal up, but Sariah came flying and tackled him to the floor. 

     Cal made a half second decision and pulled her gun. “Sariah, I’m going to shoot you,”

     Mrs. Chang stopped attacking Dean and stood up. “You’re not going to shoot a human. You only shoot monsters.”

     Cal raised her eyebrows. “Who told you that?”

     “Joshua.”

     Dean stood up. “Your son?”

     “He told me all about you two. So don’t think you’re going to get the better of me. I know everything you-”

     Dean hit Sariah with the hammer that she had dropped. She fell and that was when Cal saw the bloody child.

     He was about 11 with Sariah’s light complexion, and Oriental features that Cal attributed to Mr. Chang.

     “Why would you hurt her?” Joshua asked sadly. His body shifted, like a scratched up DVD would. His voice sounded like an echo.

     Dean spun around. His heart ached. While this boy didn’t look anything like Sam, that’s who he reminded Dean of. The little Sammy that Dean would always see when he looked at his giant brother.

     “I’m sorry,” Dean choked out.

     Cal’s eyes darted to her companions broken posture and sad eyes before looking back at Joshua.

     “He would hurt her too. That’s why I killed him”

     “Who did you kill?” Cal asked.

     Joshua, who had been staring at his mothers limp body, looked up at Cal with a sad glare. “My dad,”

     That was when Joshua started to scream.

Joshua Chang’s bones burned while Sam and Castiel looked on.

     Sam pulled out his phone and pressed speed dial 2-Dean. “Hey, you okay?”

     “Yeah, meet you back at the hotel.”

     Dean and Cal stood outside the Chang house while Cal called the police.

     “They should be here in about 10 minutes.”

     Dean stared at the house.

     “It’s kinda sweet,” Cal whispered. “Kid comes back to look out for his mom who won’t defend herself.”

     Dean shook his head. “It’s unfair. That’s what it is.” He turned away from the house.

     “Life is unfair, Dean,”

     They shared a long soulful look before Cal turned away. “Let’s go get In-N-Out,”

     Dean smirked and climbed into the passenger seat. Cal started the truck and they drove away.

     “How many burgers do you want?” Cal asked.

     “I’ll take two, Sam won’t want any and Cass doesn’t eat people food.”

     Cal nodded and turned to the speaker. “We’ll do six burgers.”

     Dean squinted his eyes in confusion. “Its just you and me, and I only want two.”

     “And I want four.”

Sam and Cass were in the room when Cal and Dean got back. They were watching the TV but Cal took the remote and changed the channel.

     “Hey, I was interested in that!” Sam protested.

     “So? Dr. Sexy M.D. is on, and I am not going to miss it.” She sat down on her bed and continued to eat her burgers. Dean thought for a moment before joining her with a small smile.