#lucifer s5e16

[markedbyindecision]

oh my god lucifer that was suchhhhh a good season finale

[monsterlovinghours]

Aftermath

A/N: hey hi so i'm not dead. sorry about the radio silence, life has been kinda batshit. i'm still around and i even still write on occasion!

so i binged Lucifer and uhhh i have some feelings. i couldn't give a shit about the copaganda aspect but listen LISTEN i have a weakness for two smart people who are so dumb that it takes them YEARS to realize they love each other. anyway this lil ficlet takes place immediately after S5E16 of Lucifer, so major spoiler alert. y'know, if there's anyone who gives a shit about Lucifer spoilers at this point lmao. comfort, grief, and smut ahead!

It had been Lucifer’s idea not to drive back to the penthouse. He, Amenadiel, and all the surviving angels had stood around talking, discussing next steps, purposefully shutting their humbled brother out, winged backs turned. Chloe had watched as Michael had gotten shakily to his feet, glaring first at his siblings, then at her, and she was not surprised to see his loathing melt into an expression of great sorrow as he turned away, limping out of the arena. She wasn't quite sure where he intended to go, and part of her was apprehensive about letting him wander the streets of her beloved Los Angeles when he had proven to be dangerous, cunning, and untrustworthy. But he was harmless now, hobbled by the loss of his wings, just as human as anyone else. Dealing with that would be punishment enough, she supposed. 

At last the sun had set, the white floodlights bathing the field in an artificial glow. Mazikeen had retreated long ago, pausing to take Chloe's hand and express her joy that she wasn't dead. "Not anymore," she had less-than-tactfully added before grinning and draping her arm around Eve's shoulder, the two of them sauntering off into the night in much better spirits than Chloe herself could manage. Her hand absently drifted down to her stomach, where she could still feel the faint echoes of the broken staff, shoved and twisted into her vital organs. There had been no pain, just the draining of air from her lungs and the terrible sensation of wrongness, of something inside her that was not meant to be. The blood on her shirt was dry now, the fabric stiff and ragged. There was no salvaging it. At least  the sun was down, taking the worst of the day's heat with it, and she could zip up her jacket to hide the worst of it and still remain relatively comfortable. 

When at last the huddle of angels (absently, Chloe what one would call a group of angels-a blessing, perhaps?) began to disperse and the empty arena echoed back the sound of flapping wings, Lucifer returned to her. She half expected him to be smug, walking with a peacock strut at his victory. For once, however, it seemed he was serious, greeting her with only a ghost of his usual smirk. It didn't escape her attention that his eyes flickered to her midsection before they made it up to her face. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Detective." He was back to calling her "detective," and that felt oddly comforting. "Lots of things in motion at the moment. God business, you understand." There was a flash of teeth as his smile attempted its usual charming brilliance, and though it fell short, Chloe returned it nonetheless. 

"It's alright," she assured him, taking a deep breath. "You ready to get out of here?"

"More than." In one smooth motion, his wings unfurled, his arms lifting toward her. "Hop on, Detective."

Chloe didn't move. "Aren't we…? I mean, shouldn't we take the car?"

He shrugged. "This will be faster. Someone can fetch the car tomorrow. Now," he insisted, crooking his fingers in a beckoning gesture, "come, come."

Sighing to herself, she looped her arms around his neck and let her body be lifted against him. As they rose into the hazy Los Angeles sky, his grip on her tightened, and though it was most likely her imagination, she thought she could feel his hands trembling. 

She had to admit, soaring through an empty sky unimpeded by traffic did return them to the penthouse much faster than the jostling city streets would have. The night air whipped cool against her face, bringing a sort of clarity to the mental fog that had clouded her thoughts since she had taken that first, gasping breath, and she could finally allow the thought that had been beckoning to her through the mist to come forth. 

She had died.

She had died, and her soul had gone to Heaven. Tears stung her eyes as she remembered her father, his face drenched in glorious sunlight and laughter, smiling at her with such love in his eyes. As heartbreaking as it was to leave him again, she at least had the comfort of knowing he was safe, he was happy, and that she would see him again. 

But. She had died. One moment of carelessness, and Trixie was an orphan. Her fingers locked tighter together as she buried her face against Lucifer's neck. She had been about to leave her daughter alone in the world; at least when her father had been killed, Chloe still had her mother. How could she, even for a moment, have considered abandoning her child?

Lost in her thoughts, her chest somehow feeling both heavy and hollow at the same time, she barely noticed when they came to a landing on the balcony, almost startled by the sensation of her feet hitting the ground. For a few seconds, Lucifer's arms remained close around her, his eyes searching hers, lips trembling slightly as unspoken words pressed against them. Instead of speaking, he abruptly smiled, letting his arms drop from around her and leading her inside. "Well, Detective, I think after today, we've both earned a drink. Or twenty."

Chloe let herself be led inside the open room, unlike its occupants unchanged by the day's events. She sat heavily on the sofa, the creak of the leather a quiet welcome back to the normalcy of their very abnormal relationship. "So," she finally said, the lightness in her tone not fooling either of them, "you're God now."

"Not quite. Heaven needs some time to adjust to the shift, and to hopefully unbanish me so I can actually sit on my own throne." Like hers, his voice was falsely light, still carrying the sardonic cast that tinged every word he spoke, but it was thin and sharp, like bits of shale at the edge of a steep cliff. "But in as little as a week or two, you'll be on the arm of a shiny new God."

He crossed to her, two glasses half full of scotch in one hand and the bottle he had poured from in the other. The bottle he set on the table, the first glass he pressed into her hand. Chloe expected him to sit down beside her with the second already up to his lips, tossing his arm around her and filling her in on all the plans he had now that he would be taking over for his Father. She wanted him to; if he could continue on like everything was fine, that he hadn't gone on a suicide mission to Heaven to retrieve her soul, that his own brother hadn't murdered her right before his eyes, then perhaps she could too. It would be easier, at least.

Instead, he walked past her, taking his drink out on the balcony, into the open air. She couldn't begrudge him that; he had a considerable amount to process, to ponder over. What were her small human troubles compared to the task of being the new I Am That I Am?

The penthouse resonated with silent tension, Chloe sitting torn; half of her was dying to go to him, to wrap her arms around him and ground herself in the familiar smells of silk and cologne and whiskey. The other half wanted to give him his space, to let him come to her in his own time, to be gracious and considerate. More than the impaling force of a broken staff, this split inside her ached and stung. The glass of scotch still sat cradled in her hands, undrunk and forgotten as she chewed at her lip, one leg bouncing nervously. Before she could fully come to a decision, her thoughts were brought screeching to a halt by the sound of shattering crystal. 

Chloe bolted to her feet to see Lucifer gripping the thick glass railing in both hands, the broken shards of his glass glimmering in a puddle of expensive liquor. She came toward him, her steps light, as if afraid she'd spook him. "Lucifer? Are you okay?"

As she neared, she noticed with a cold squeeze in the pit of her stomach that his shoulders were hunched and trembling, his hands dropping from the railing as he turned to her. They shook so badly that he appeared to have a tremor, as if suddenly struck by some wicked sort of palsy. His eyes, dark as pitch, were rimmed with red, tears streaking down his face as his mouth worked. 

"Chloe."

Her name came out strangled and ragged, as if pulled through a throat lined with broken glass. 

"Oh god, Chloe…"

His chest heaved with swallowed, silent sobs, and she ran to him, unmindful of the sharp bits of crystal that littered the ground around him. Her hands lifted to cradle his face, his stubble rasping against her palms, his skin fever-hot. As if mirroring her, his hands, still shaking, cupped her face between them, his touch oddly light, as though afraid she would break. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice small, too small. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't…I-I wasn't fast enough. I'm-"

Chloe hushed him, pressing her thumb over his lips as she stretched up on her toes to press little fluttering kisses to his brow, her hands stroking soothingly through his hair, the nape of his neck. "It's okay," she murmured, and her reassurance snapped the bands holding back his horror and his grief. He wept, his arms finally wrapping tight around her waist and crushing her against him. "I'm okay," she added, her own eyes beginning to sting as she felt his tears slide down her neck. "I'm okay, Lucifer. You brought me back, I'm okay now."

A strangled noise left him, painful and sharp, as if ripped straight from his chest. Lucifer sagged against her, burdened by the weight of his almost-loss, the trauma of seeing her killed, the panic and terror, the pain of her final words. He fell to his knees, hardly wincing at the broken glass, and pressed his cheek against the leather of her jacket, his body heaving as he clung to her. "I'm sorry," he muttered again, his usual acerbic eloquence lost in the tidal rush of emotion let loose by her embrace. How could he ever convey to her what it meant for him to have lost her, even for those few, aching moments? To watch the light in her eyes fading, bleeding away? Would he ever be able to look into her eyes again without seeing their emptiness, their dull finality? Would he be able to touch her skin without seeing the torn and bloody hole his fucking brother had left in her?

His fingers feeling numb and useless, Lucifer reached up to tug at the zipper of her jacket, opening it and choking out a fresh sob when he saw the blood-soaked remains of her shirt. Shaking, he lifted it, and was momentarily relieved to see her skin as smooth as ever, not so much as a scar to speak of. He kissed her, kissed the place where she had been pierced, as if trying to erase the memory of it from her skin. "Does it hurt," he said lowly, his voice still thick and broken.

Chloe shook her head, fingers still carding back through his hair, tears staining her cheeks though her lips curved gently in an understanding smile. "No. No, it doesn't hurt. It's like it never even happened."

"But it did." Lucifer’s forehead pressed to her stomach, nearly burying his face in her midsection, as if desperate to be as close as possible to her. "It did, Chloe. Oh, darling…"

She stood unmoving, her fingers curling through his hair as he held her fast, hands sinking deep and desperate into her skin. It didn't hurt, but Chloe was still certain there would be bruises where he gripped her; that was alright, she could handle a few more bruises. Lucifer wept, pressing both kisses and broken apologies against her stomach, long enough for the cool night breeze to make her shiver. Gently, with the patience of a saint, Chloe guided him back to his feet, following him up enough to press a kiss to his still-trembling lips. "Let's get cleaned up a little," she suggested, unable to keep a mothering tone from her voice, but Lucifer didn't seem to mind, rubbing a hand down his face and nodding. Taking his hand, she led him back inside the penthouse, back inside their home.

The first thing she did was sit him down on the bed; here, she could see that while the broken crystal shards hadn't drawn blood, it had shredded the knees of his trousers quite badly. Quickly, she tossed her jacket aside and peeled off the ruined shirt. There was blood on her bra, so that went too. His eyes never left her as she stripped off her jeans and underwear-might as well be rid of the whole outfit-but for once, his stare was not one of lust, but of anxiety. As if she would be ripped from him again if he looked away for only an instant.

With as much methodical detachment as she'd removed her own, Chloe then began to divest Lucifer of his; first came his dusty jacket, then his slightly singed waistcoat and shirt, her fingers sure and steady as they slipped each button from its loop. A hundred different quips flickered to his mind as she unbuckled his belt and knelt to tug his ruined trousers off of him, but he couldn't give them voice. There was something so pure about her actions, an act he had only ever experienced in lust now performed only in love, in duty, in care and compassion. He could hardly bear it, the tender look in her eyes and the gentle way she handled him, the heart he once thought dead and loveless now full to the seams, nearly bursting in his chest.

"Chloe," he started, wanting to remind her of what he'd told her in Heaven; that he loved her, that he would choose her over everything, that there was nothing and no one he had ever cherished so deeply, but she put a finger to his lips and hushed him softly.

"Later," she whispered. "For now, just lie still and feel me." Her knee pressed into the bed beside him, her hands pushing on his shoulders to lay him down on his bed. He went willingly, his hands sliding into the familiar curve of her waist as she went with him, the weight of her lithe body pressing into him, pinning him to the Egyptian cotton sheets. Her legs wound around his, her hair spilling golden around her face as she finally leaned up to kiss him, her lips as soft and sweet as always. He cradled the back of her head in his cupped hand, holding her fast, feeling surrounded by her. The scent in the air around them, the pressure, the warmth, the sounds of quickened breath; in this moment, everything he knew was her, his entire world shrunk down to one indescribable woman. 

She had commanded him to lie still, and he tried, he actually tried, but as the blossom of her mouth opened and her tongue slipped against his, he couldn't help the slide of his hand down the curve of her back, couldn't stop himself from gripping her thigh to hold her still as his hips arched beneath her. He breathed her name, a prayer and a plea, as her lips peppered his face with little kisses like raindrops. Was it his imagination, or were her hips moving too? 

A breath of a moan betrayed her, and knowing she was caught, Chloe circled her hips more deliberately, dropping her mouth to his neck when his head fell back against the bed, the sound of mounting pleasure he gave an echo of her own. One broad hand slipped up her side, her skin tingling in its wake as he cupped her breast, thumbing her nipple to aching hardness. Her back arched, both dropping her hips more firmly against his and pushing her breasts forward. When his lips closed over her nipple, for a moment, she considered surrender, to fold into the strength of his embrace and let him take the lead. It would be all too easy, so familiar and safe. But he needed her, now-needed to feel the comfort of her arms, the living pulse of her. He needed her to love him, and she could worry about herself later. 

With a flash of regret in her eyes, she pulled back, sitting straddled over his hips with her hands braced on his chest. Lucifer looked confused, then worried, as if he had upset her, and she reassured him with a smile. "For once," she murmured, "just for this once, forget about everything else and be with me. Let me take care of you."

A soft exhalation and a guarded smile was her only answer, but she didn't pry for more, lifting his hand to her mouth and kissing each of his fingertips in turn before pressing her lips to the cup of his palm. Slowly, efficiently, she positioned them both, her lower half aligning with his, before guiding him inside of her with a patient steadiness that made them both stiffen and ache. He breathed her name, his eyes fluttering closed in pleasure and immediately snapping open again, unwilling to miss a single moment. She held him fully seated for a few beats, nearly breathless with anticipation and want before her hips began to rock. Lucifer cried out and clutched at her, fingers sinking deep into the warm yield of her thighs as she built up her pace. Her hands in turn spanned the soft plane of his chest, mapping out the dips and curves of his musculature with the care and precision of an expert cartographer. It was quiet in the penthouse, aside from their hurried breathing and the rustle and creak of the bed beneath them, until Chloe cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry," she finally murmured, her grey-blue eyes avoiding his dark ones. "I should have been more careful." A breath of mirthless laughter left her. "You'd think a seasoned detective would be better at checking her six."

His brows knitted together in confusion, shaking his head as he lifted a hand to cup the side of her neck. His thumb pressed gently beneath her jaw, tilting her face up so he could better see her eyes. "You don't have a thing to be sorry for, Chloe." His voice was low, steady, and sincere. "Michael is no common miscreant, he's not like any threat the LAPD normally faces." His expression gentled, then grew mournful. "I let my guard down. We were winning, everything was going to plan, and I..." Lucifer trailed off, his eyes searching hers, though for what, she couldn't tell. "I'm so sorry, Chloe."

Again, she hushed him, brushing the backs of her fingers down his cheeks to erase any tears that might have spilt, to soothe and comfort even if they hadn't. "It's okay." She smiled, the soft curves of her face outlined in silver starlight. "I love you, Lucifer." Her hips rolled, swiveled, her body demonstrating the depth of her words as she echoed his earlier sentiment. "I choose you."

Oh, he was helpless then, powerless beneath the crushing responsibility of her love, weak against the iron fortitude of her will, and he, the Devil, Guardian of the Damned, surrendered completely. His arms wrapped tight around her, anchoring himself to her as if he feared he would be swept away by the sheer force of his love for her. Chloe sat back as he surged upward, her arms looping around his neck as he began to rock more desperately beneath her, little whimpers and moans punctuating the steady stream of adoration and affection she poured into him. His lips trailed down her neck, whispered words of devotion woven between each tender kiss, as if he intended to etch them into her skin so she could never again doubt his sincerity. Their bodies rolled, crashed, receded, then swelled toward the other, like opposing tides on clashing shores, and Lucifer grasped her tighter, burying his face in his shoulder when he felt tears sting his eyes once more. He felt as though he could fly apart at any moment; for years beyond human measure, he had been so empty that now, the concept of being whole, of being full, was new and strangely frightening. Blunt nails raked down the delicate plane of her back, teeth bared against her collarbone. 

Mercy, darling, I cannot endure this!

He was close, the lightening stripe of dove grey on the horizon heralding the end of both the night and him. When he trusted himself to do so, when he was sure he wouldn't frighten her, Lucifer looked up into her eyes, as vast as oceans, and took her cheek in his hand. He spoke her name, a benediction in each syllable, and she nodded, lips parted and chest heaving. It was a small comfort to see that she seemed to be coming undone as well. Taking her hips in his hands, he pulled her closer, pushed deeper, her body bending forward to clutch helplessly at the headboard. The urge to close his eyes, not dissimilar to the urge one feels when confronted with a light that borders on painfully bright, washed over him; Lucifer ignored it, knowing that he must witness this fully, must carve these few cataclysmic moments into his memory. Chloe bore down on him, her soft mouth open as her head fell back, the sting of her fingernails digging into his shoulders barely noticeable as she cried out his name. 

It was too much, the pleasure granted by her orgasm and the overwhelming love brimming the edges of his atrophied heart, and as that glimmering ascent reached its peak, as the cracks in his soul began to widen, he breathed again those words he'd thought beyond him. 

"I love you, Chloe."

Like a collision of galaxies that flung droplets of molten stars to the furthest corners of creation, they came together, flew apart, their gravity pulling them back to each other as the supernova faded, and the two of them collapsed back into the sea of rumpled sheets, shaking with exertion and tremulous emotion. It was silent, save for panting breaths, for a long while, until Chloe's hand, small and calloused and so strong, found his and held it tight. Her voice was hushed, reverent, the voice of a repentant sinner alone in a chapel.

"You okay?"

It took Lucifer a moment to answer, his throat obscured by a sudden lump and unable to form a thought around the screaming, unabashed joy and fear he felt at the brink of their new life together. He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed kisses over her knuckles, ending with a kiss to the ring he had slipped on her finger to save her life. "More than okay." The bed creaked as he lifted himself onto an elbow so he could get a better look at her; she seemed to be faintly glowing, luminous with the first light of dawn, and his heart gave an aching lurch in his chest at the sight of her, at the weight of her eyes meeting his. "I am so-"

Shock diffused the blissful afterglow of sex as she slapped her hand over his mouth, her smile gone; for a moment he felt a cold fissure of doubt and fear spill through his gut, but then he saw the gleam in her eyes, the teasing arch of her brow, and relaxed.

"If you say you're sorry one more time, Lucifer, I'm gonna have no choice but to shoot you."

Against the warmth of her palm, he grinned, and she dropped her hand to his chest as he lowered his head, the tips of their noses almost brushing. "Again, you mean?"

Her faux severity was cracked in half by a smile, and she gave a surprisingly girlish giggle. "Yes, again."

"I love you, Chloe Decker. My brilliant detective." Lucifer dropped his forehead against hers, allowing himself to once more feel the living warmth of her body beside him, the gentle whispers of breath against his lips like phantom kisses. "Don't ever do that to me again," he whispered. "There is nothing more precious to me now than you."

"I won't." Her answering whisper was void of any playfulness, as strong a vow as those performed in churches or courtrooms. "I'm not going anywhere, Lucifer." With such gentleness it nearly broke his heart all over again, she kissed the corner of his mouth. "I love you too. So much."

By the time the sun was fully above the horizon, shining like a coin on a vast expanse of faded silk, they were asleep, limbs tangled, her head nestled into the crook of his neck. For now, there was peace. For now, there was love.

[detectiveplease]

Tom Ellis behind the scenes of Lucifer s5b

photo courtesy of @joshstyle on instagram

[rdmngf]

oh my me

[calia-lynn]

"Can't touch what?" #Lucifer S5E16.

Markers and coloring pencils.

[coquettecowboy]

Watching s5e16 of Lucifer and as much as I hate Michael I gotta admit he looks damn sexy in that battle armor

[lesbiansastiel]

so far untitled fic

this is kind of my take on what happens in s5e16 (dark side of the moon) but it happens earlier in the season (like after the convention ep).

cas x sam, kind of dean negative, very gay & emotional. i use every pronouns for cas here dont mind that. title is reference to a Shura song. pls listen to it it’s good

Chapter 1. Nothing’s Real

Sam. Ashtabula, Ohio, 2009

He turns the Impala's radio on and takes another left turn, towards the beach. It's been a long while since Dean first gave him the keys of the car, after the talk they had about trying to be "more equal", whatever that meant. Since then, Sam has enjoyed being able to drive around and clear his mind from the job, and the hassle, and, well, Dean. Since the whole thing with Lucifer being freed, it has not really been easy living with Dean and having to bear the guilt of the world ending, as ridiculous as it sounds. Actually the only good thing to happen recently has been the permission to drive the Impala and get away, on the excuse of doing research, going shopping, or meeting with local hunters for more details on the job at hand. Sam takes the car, buys Dean something to eat from any gas station close by, and drives until it gets dark. Then he parks the car somewhere peaceful and sits there, listening to music (but never classic rock), or in silence.

Now he's parked in the parking lot near a tiny beach. The moon is almost full, and the parking lot is dimly lit with street lamps. He's wearing a winter jacket but the car is nicely warm after the drive so he takes it off and throws it on the passenger seat. He has not had time to think about normal everyday regular life things in so long, because they barely even live anymore. Yet, somehow, when he just sits in the car and lets his brain choose the thoughts, he ends up thinking about normal things, like the increasing price of gas, his old friends and how they're doing, the state of Dean and his laundry pile back at the motel, all the little things of regular life he needs to take care of before hitting the next case.

But his everyday life is more than those things. Here, alone, in silence, he can think about the other stuff too, without feeling the weight of it all. More often than not, when he takes time off to drive, Sam thinks about the angels, and Ruby, even Jess, even their parents. He wonders if God really is real, and out there, and if Cas will be able to find them. Sam misses Cas when the angel is not around, he has this weird anxiety about Cas being gone some morning, for good. Sam wants Cas to know how much he thinks about them, how much Cas helps him and Dean, more than just with his powers. That stupid trench coat brings them hope. At least to Sam, since Sam can't say for Dean, who seems to have given up all of his hope. Sam has all the pressure, making sure he never shows Dean how much Sam fears, how weak he is. He wonders if Cas, and the other angels, can see how weak Sam is. If they can tap into his thoughts at any moment and just see how much sadness and misery he holds, that any moment he could snap and give up the fight.

Sam won't do it, though. He's meant to fight this fight, till the end, even if it kills him. Sometimes when he goes on these drives, he cries thinking of it all.

Sometimes when he does, he hopes Cas would be there when he opens his eyes.

That seems to only happen to Dean, though. And it’s not like Cas would know where Sam is right now, because of the Enochian sigils. Sam opens his eyes slowly and turns the radio off. No one else in the car, or outside of it. His limbs are getting tired and his eyes feel heavier and heavier. He rolls down the window to let in some fresh air and the sounds of the waves and the wind come with. When he places his head back against the seat and takes a long breath in he gets goosebumps on his arms. It’s a weird feeling, drifting away in a familiar car, at a strange beach, in the dark. The impala is more than just a familiar car, it feels more like home to Sam than anything else does. Falling asleep in this car is more familiar than falling asleep anywhere else. The sound of the waves, crashing in and out, the wind humming in the air, the cool autumn air, lull Sam fast to sleep. 

When he next wakes up, he is shivering all over. It takes half a second to realise why, with the breeze coming from the window, so he rolls the window back up and takes his jacket from the passenger seat and onto his lap and covers himself with it. Sam yawns again and looks at the clock on the dash. It’s two AM. He had left the motel at midnight. Dean is probably asleep by now, so he’s not in any hurry. He ends up just sitting there for a while, with his mind black. Eventually he takes his phone out of his jeans’ front pocket to check for messages, just in case. Three notifications, one message from Dean, one call from Dean and one call from Cas. Sam reads the message, it says to come back to the motel,  sits up straight and pulls the jacket on. He’s not panicking, but he’s not calm either. He turns the keys in the ignition switch and backs away from the parking lot. He drives fast, but not quite as fast as he could, and tries to keep calm. Why had Cas called?

Sometimes when Sam is alone, his brain goes fuzzy, like he’s resetting from his social-Sam back into himself, his brain not quite making sense in words, his thoughts kind of blurry, memories hazy. Being alone is truly freeing, but it’s also sad and lonely. He tries not to like it too much, because being lonely is his way of punishing himself, too, and liking it would mean he wants to punish himself, to make himself miserable. So he tries to keep himself social, talk to people, think of people, spend time with Dean outside of the jobs, try to remember that he is worthy of love and appreciation. He tries really hard to be loved, so that he doesn’t forget that he deserves it, too. Dean rarely shows his appreciation. Not with words or affection, anyway. Dean has probably saved Sam’s ass more times than he has in any way signaled that he doesn’t hate to spend time with him. Sam does try to be “touchy-feely” but Dean won’t let him. He turns it into a joke, tries to silence Sam with hurtful truths, anything to stop feelings from happening. In fact, Dean’s feelings are so repressed Sam sometimes wonders if Dean has feelings at all. But Sam tries to understand, after all, Dean is an innocent man who was in Hell for what felt like 40 years. And from what Sam understands, he even remembers it all. Sam tires himself imagining how hell must’ve been, trying to find anything to say to help, comparisons to draw to make himself understand Dean. Sam tries to imagine Dean as a war veteran who was on the battlefield for 40 years, but somehow, even that doesn’t quite compare. Sam often wonders about how Cas saved Dean, tries to imagine how a soul is grabbed from literal Hell and raised to a body quite like the original thing but without the scars. How does Cas have that power, when not a single demon Sam killed seemed to think it was possible? And why do it? And why was it Cas? And who gave the order?

After a 10-minute drive Sam comes to the centre of town and there is a big knot in his belly. The night is too ominous, too dark and yet too calm to make sense of and Sam doesn’t like it. The straight road continues for too long and Sam feels helpless. There is so much fear and anxiety in his life he can barely contain it. Sam’s mind is fuzzy with nothing but the words “please be okay, please be okay, please be okay”. 

The motel is around the corner, and its cheap neon lights are reflected on the wet asphalt. Sam parks the car swiftly in front of their room and hurries out of it. His back and legs are sore from sitting for so long and he feels like he’s getting old too fast. The room number is 12, the door yellow. Sam doesn’t have keys, but the door is unlocked. 

He marches in and sees Dean and Cas sitting on the two beds, silent, Dean looking uncomfortable, Cas staring at the wall. They both look at him, and Dean looks tired.

“What is it?” Sam lets out a big breath of air and puts the car keys on the table next to the door.

“Where were you?” Dean says with no change in expression.

“Just, out” Sam points to the general direction of the beach with his head.

“Well, Cas here,” Dean looks at Cas, “found something.”

Cas looks at Sam with a regular expression, not the frowny one, and Sam is relieved. 

“Oh?” Sam says and rips the jacket off himself. The motel room is way too warm. Cas sits silently, looking deep in thought, and Dean stands up from the bed, and walks to the other corner of the room. Then he walks back. 

“Cas? Please share with the rest of the class,” Dean sounds annoyed and sits on the couch that is on the opposite wall from the door. 

Cas looks at Dean and then Sam. He seems worried… or anxious.

“I’m going to find God,” Cas begins and looks at Sam, “and I will need your help.”

“Of course, but I don’t think there’s much we can do-” “Not us, Sam. You,” Dean says, frustrated. 

“I’m taking you to heaven, Sam,” Cas says, “to find Joshua.”

[annarvby]

list of all the angels in spn and the episodes they appear in- p1 1: physical presence.

backstory on why i made this list: i’m making a video about the angels and i wanted to include as many as i could (if not all of them) and i thought i would make my life easier and make a list to see what episodes each angel was in. also because spn has so many seasons, it’s impossible to keep track of all of the episodes and all of the characters in a way you could on a show with less characters/episodes.

i also split this list into 2 parts: part 1 (this one) listing episodes the angels were physically present in (also including flashbacks, presence of their true form aka bright lights, and corporeal forms, and their voices)and part 2, listing episodes in which the angels were mentioned and pictures/paintings of them were seen.

WILL BE UPDATED TO INCLUDE NEW EPS AS THEY AIR.

under the cut bc it’s pretty long.

SEASON 2 gabriel -s2e15

SEASON 3 gabriel -s3e11

SEASON 4 castiel -s4e01 castiel -s4e02 castiel -s4e03 castiel -s4e07 uriel -s4e07 castiel -s4e09 uriel -s4e09 anna milton -s4e09 castiel -s4e10 uriel -s4e10 anna milton -s4e10 castiel -s4e15 castiel -s4e16 unnamed blonde angel -s4e16 uriel -s4e16 anna milton -s4e16 zachariah -s4e17 raphael -s4e18 (presence only) castiel -s4e18 zachariah -s4e18 castiel -s4e20 anna milton -s4e20 castiel -s4e21 anna milton -s4e21 lucifer -s4e22(speaks through a nun, incorporeal form) raphael -s4e22 (presence only) castiel -s4e22 zachariah -s4e22

SEASON 5 lucifer -s5e01 castiel -s5e01 zachariah -s5e01 castiel -s5e02 lucifer -s5e03 raphael -s5e03 castiel -s5e03 lucifer -s5e04 castiel -s5e04 zachariah -s5e04 castiel -s5e06 gabriel -s5e08 castiel -s5e08 lucifer -s5e10 castiel -s5e10 michael -s5e13 castiel -s5e13 uriel -s5e13 anna milton -s5e13 castiel -s5e14 cupid -s5e14 castiel -s5e16 zachariah -s5e16 joshua -s5e16 castiel -s5e17 michael -s5e18 (incorporeal form) castiel -s5e18 zachariah -s5e18 lucifer -s5e19 gabriel -s5e19 castiel -s5e21 michael -s5e22 lucifer -s5e22 castiel -s5e22

SEASON 6 raphael -s6e03 castiel -s6e03 balthazar -s6e03 castiel -s6e06 castiel -s6e07 castiel -s6e10 balthazar -s6e11 castiel -s6e12 raphael -s6e15 castiel -s6e15 balthazar -s6e15 virgil -s6e15 castiel -s6e17 balthazar -s6e17 castiel -s6e18 rachel -s6e18 castiel -s6e19 raphael -s6e20 castiel -s6e20 rachel -s6e20 (flashback) castiel -s6e21 balthazar -s6e21 raphael -s6e22 castiel -s6e22 balthazar -s6e22

SEASON 7 lucifer -s7e01 (hallucination-sam) castiel -s7e01 lucifer -s7e02 (hallucination-sam) castiel -s7e02 (possessed by leviathan) lucifer -s7e03 (voice) lucifer -s7e04 (voice) castiel -s7e05 (seen in dean’s nightmare) lucifer -s7e15 (hallucination-sam) lucifer -s7e17 (hallucination-sam and cas) castiel -s7e17 castiel -s7e21 hester -s7e21 inias -s7e21 castiel -s7e23

SEASON 8 castiel -s8e02 (purgatory flashback) samandriel -s8e02 castiel -s8e05 (purgatory flashback) castiel -s8e07 samandriel -s8e07 naomi -s8e07 castiel -s8e08 naomi -s8e08 castiel -s8e10 samandriel -s8e10 naomi -s8e10 castiel -s8e17 naomi -s8e17 naomi -s8e19 castiel -s8e21 naomi -s8e21 metatron -s8e21 ion -s8e21 esper -s8e21 castiel -s8e22 metatron -s8e22 castiel -s8e23 naomi -s8e23 metatron -s8e23 nathaniel -s8e23 gail -s8e23

SEASON 9 castiel -s9e01 gadreel -s9e01 hael -s9e01 kim schortz -s9e01 farmer angel -s9e01 gadreel -s9e02 castiel -s9e03 gadreel -s9e03 bartholemew -s9e03 bartholemew’s assistant -s9e03 gadreel -s9e04 gadreel -s9e05 castiel -s9e06 gadreel -s9e06 (unseen) epraim -s9e06 gadreel -s9e07 (unseen) gadreel -s9e08 castiel -s9e09 metatron -s9e09 gadreel -s9e09 bartholemew -s9e09 (unseen) bartholemew’s assistant -s9e09 malachi -s9e09 muriel -s9e09 theo -s9e09 castiel -s9e10 metatron -s9e10 gadreel -s9e10 abner -s9e10 thaddeus -s9e10 castiel -s9e11 gadreel -s9e11 (flashback) castiel -s9e14 bartholemew -s9e14 rebecca -s9e14 (grave) elijah -s9e14 gabriel -s9e18 (illusion)castiel -s9e18 metatron -s9e18 gadreel -s9e18 hannah -s9e18 ingrid -s9e18 castiel -s9e21 gadreel -s9e21 ezra -s9e21 castiel -s9e22 metatron -s9e22 gadreel -s9e22 hannah -s9e22 esther -s9e22 josiah -s9e22 oren -s9e22 tyrus -s9e22 constantine -s9e22 flagstaff -s9e22 castiel -s9e23 metatron -s9e23 gadreel -s9e23 hannah -s9e23 neil -s9e23 asariel -s9e23 purah -s9e23 ingrid -s9e23 homeless angel -s9e23

SEASON 10 castiel -s10e01 hannah -s10e01 daniel -s10e01 adina -s10e01 castiel -s10e02 metatron -s10e02 hannah -s10e02 castiel -s10e03 hannah -s10e03 adina  -s10e03 castiel -s10e07 hannah -s10e07 castiel -s10e09 castiel -s10e10 metatron -s10e10 ingrid  -s10e10 castiel -s10e14 castiel -s10e17 metatron -s10e17 hannah -s10e17 castiel -s10e18 metatron -s10e18 trucker cupid -s10e18 castiel -s10e20 tamiel -s10e20 castiel -s10e21 castiel -s10e22 castiel -s10e23

SEASON 11 castiel  -s11e01 efram -s11e01 jonah -s11e01 castiel -s11e02 hannah -s11e02 efram -s11e02 jonah -s11e02 castiel -s11e03 daniel -s11e03(briefly- different angel named daniel than the prev. daniel) head angel -s11e03 lucifer -s11e4 (as young!john) castiel -s11e04 (voice only) castiel -s11e06 metatron -s11e06 lucifer -s11e09 head angel -s11e09 michael -s11e10 (flashback) lucifer -s11e10 castiel -s11e10 ambriel  -s11e10 lucifer -s11e11 (possessing cas) nithael -s11e11 castiel -s11e14 (possessed by lucifer and himself) lucifer -s11e15 (possessing cas) lucifer -s11e15 (possessing cas) castiel -s11e18 (possessed by lucifer and himself) jofiel -s11e18 metatron -s11e20 lucifer -s11e21 (possessing cas) metatron -s11e21 castiel -s11e22 (possessed by lucifer and himself) castiel -s11e23

metatron -s11e21

SEASON 12 castiel -s12e01 lucifer -s12e02 castiel -s12e02 lucifer -s12e03 castiel -s12e03 lucifer -s12e07castiel -s12e07 lucifer -s12e08 castiel -s12e08 castiel -s12e10 akobel -s12e10 benjamin -s12e10 mirabel -s12e10 ishim -s12e10 castiel -s12e12 castiel -s12e15 kelvin -s12e15

[gorunmezadam]

Birini sevmemiş olmak kaybetmekten çok daha kötüdür.

[detectiveplease]

"So hopefully that'll be ready to go, I would imagine, sort of Christmastime or early next year."

-Tom Ellis, Digitalspy

[calia-lynn]

Chloe in a scene from Lucifer S5E16. Watercolor ink and coloring pencils.

[calia-lynn]

Michael, from Lucifer S5E16. Traditional mixed media, watercolor and coloring pencils.