#spn + mission

[shallowseeker]

Sam and Dean are grieving the loss of Mary, Jack, and Rowena very differently in 15x06 Golden Time.

Sam is throwing himself into the mission and rushing to rekindle the thing with Eileen. Dean, on the other hand...is stuck.

DEAN IN STASIS

INT. MEN OF LETTERS - KITCHEN - NIGHT

ONE: Dean is eating Jack-type cereal. The lack of Jack mentions are LOUD, y'all. Jack's death too painful to mention, much less face. That's why Dean will later default to talking about Bel as "code" for Jack.

When Cas died, Dean ate PB&J, and when [OMITTED] died, Dean ate cereal. Cocoa Crunch. That's a Jack-coded cereal in the script, as Jack was shown eating Crunch Cookie Crunch last season.

TWO, wow--that is one SERIOUSLY DEPRESSED man. Sam is taken aback by just how depressed and downtrodden Dean is beneath his barbed jokes. //

SAM, INCENSED

Sam is soooo frustrated and mad about it. Here Sam is, working SO hard, and Dean's given up. (Not to mention, Cas is giving Sam the silent treatment by proxy. Poor Sam, really.)

Dean's not allowed to give up. He won't. He can't. Per season 15's The Trap, that's not the Dean who raised Sam.

///

Dean doesn't rise to Sam's irritation, not even a little bit:

Not vindicated, just deflated.

So, Dean goes back to stress-eating and watching his stasis-oriented comfort series to escape it all. Dean plays up the act, eating messily.

///

Cas is...who knows where he is.

(fatalistic)

What is a fatalistic person? A fatalist is someone who feels that no matter what he or she does, the outcome will be the same because it's predetermined. Fatalists share a sense of being powerless to change the world. In philosophy, a fatalist is someone who holds specific beliefs about life, destiny, and the future.

Chuck is hostile. Dean's life is a hoax. Mary is dead. Jack is dead. The future is dead. Cas is dead to him. Cas left him. There's nothing left for Dean to have faith in anymore.

There is no future.

Sam can't deal with a fatalistic Dean, so he goes for a run. Dean grabs more cereal and continue la wallowing in despair.

///

Meanwhile, Cas is finding a sense of renewed resolution

Dean may be fatalistic, but Cas becomes resolved to stand and fight Chuck.

(Cas has become seriously strong-willed over the course of the series. I'm so proud of him!)

The nice thing here is that Cas has BEEN fatalistic before, too. He was there in seasons 7-8, you know?

(In a way, Dean's where Cas himself was then! If Moriah-Dean is season 4-Cas, then Golden Time-Dean is easily a season 7-Cas.)

Anyway, because he's already weather existential crises and rebellion, Cas is better positioned to process, and he does.

(Sam, too, went through bouts of fatalism and despair, notably when he went AWOL on Kevin, "You're well and truly alone," etc, and purely driven by the need to escape, and then took on the Hell trials.)

Here, they're all suffering from the existential wound of Chuck and the loss of meaning in their lives, even Cas.

///

And Cas realizes something about Chuck's game, a resounding gong against his past escapism:

///

Off Cas, finally resolved.

///

DEAN SPIRALLING

Cut back to Dean. Self-defeated:

15x06 Golden Time

It is not until Dean meets up with his dark mirror in Lee in 15x07 Last Call that his will to fight returns.

It's no accident that Lee bears some resemblance to the Dean in AU Michael's Nihilism world. Dean had some contentment (not true happiness) in the falseness of Rocky's Bar, for sure, but it existed primarily as a means of fleeing the storm that was raging outside.

It was an anorexic happiness, a contented world of potential with no risks.

Lee is like the ghost of Christmas Future, and Dean finally rejects becoming his worst self.

(All scripts here.) via @spnscripthunt

[walk-to-gallows]

So so funny that Castiel is an ancient celestial being who got too attached to some ants and ended up being subjected to the Winchesters 24/7 family drama.

[bloodybarbrawl]

commission for "Bring It On! Occidental entertainment fan convention" 2023

[midnightdahlias]

Lone Wolf

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summery - Bobby calls you when two hunters seem to need a rescue word count - 2.8k cws - gn!reader, kinda fluff (ig), typical supernatural hunt violence, mentions of weapons, mild language, mentions of injury, lmk if i missed anything a/n - the amount of times i've rewritten this fic-, i do hope you like it though, and as always rebloggs and comments are appreciated. happy reading !

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Driving was the calm between the chaos.

For hunters like you, it was the only time life didn’t feel like one giant nightmare. No claws, no teeth, no windows to get thrown through. Just the hum of the engine, the occasional song on the radio, and miles of open road.

Being a solo hunter? Even better. No one to babysit, no one to lose. It was just you and your thoughts. Peaceful.

...Well. Mostly.

Because, let’s face it, solitude had its downsides. You weren’t a robot. Sometimes, you wanted someone to talk to who wasn’t a bartender or Bobby Singer on the other end of the line. But people were a luxury you couldn’t afford—not when you knew what this life would do to them. You’d already learned that lesson the hard way, thank you very much.

But somedays you’d find yourself working with others, and today was one of those days.

“Hey, Bobby, got a case for me?” you asked, cradling the phone against your shoulder while you tightened the strap on your duffel bag.

“Not a case so much as a rescue mission,” Bobby said, and you could practically hear the grimace in his voice.

“Rescue?”

“Couple of knuckleheads went dark in Chicago. I sent ’em a case, and now I can’t get ahold of ’em. Might be nothin’, but…”

“Better safe than sorry,” you finished for him.

“Exactly.” He sighed, and you could hear the faint clink of a whiskey glass on his end.

“Why me? Don’t tell me I’m your only option.”

“You’re the best shot I’ve got, and you know it,” Bobby said gruffly. “Now, are you gonna help or stand there flappin’ your gums?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, I’m on it. Send me the details.”

The drive to Chicago was quiet, a welcome break from the chaos that usually followed you around. It gave you time to think: about Bobby’s call, about the hunters who’d gone dark, and about how you were the one he trusted to find them. You didn’t mind the weight of that responsibility. If they were still alive, you’d get them out. If not… you’d make sure the job was done. Either way, it was your mess to clean up.

Your first stop was the police station, where the missing hunters were last seen.

Flashing your fake FBI badge, you approached the front desk. “Couple of angets were here investigating some strange deaths. I’m their superior. Mind telling me what they found?”

The officer barely looked up. “You’ll want Detective Hayes. Down the hall.”

Hayes didn’t waste time. “They were looking into some deaths. Real messy ones. Claw marks, missing hearts, looks like a wild animal got to them. Weirdest damn thing.”

Missing hearts. Yep. Definitely your kinda thing.

He handed you the case file. You didn’t miss the way he watched you, like he was waiting for you to explain it all away. Instead, you nodded, thanked him, and left. The morgue confirmed what you already knew—this wasn’t some rogue animal. This was werewolves.

The victims were last seen at a seedy little bar on the edge of town. Sounded like your next stop.

The bar smelled like beer and poor life choices. You grabbed a seat at the far end, where you could see the whole room without sticking out too much. Years of hunting had taught you to trust your instincts, and right now, they were screaming something’s off.

Hours passed without incident. You were just about to call it a night when a hooded figure walked in, immediately drawing your attention. He moved with purpose, scanning the crowd before slipping a small envelope to a woman sitting alone, and walked out without a word.

Because that’s definitely not suspicious at all.

The woman opened the envelope, scanned its contents, then locked eyes with you.

You froze and your pulse quickening. Was it obvious you were watching her? Maybe. Did she seem like the type to care? Also maybe.

Just when you thought she might try and approach you or something, she stood and left without a word.

Again definitely not suspicious…

You waited a beat, and against every bit of common sense you had, you followed her out into the night.

You knew fully well that this could be a trap, but you also knew that this might be the only chance you’d get. You tailed her car at a cautious distance until she turned into an alleyway. Parking just past it, you got out and crept closer on foot.

The alley was dark and silent, save for the faint hum of a streetlamp. You kept your distance as she climbed out of her car, a sleek white sedan.

That’s when you saw it. A black ‘67 Chevrolet Impala parked behind her car.

Your heart stopped. No. Fucking. Way.

Everyone in the hunting community knew that car. It belonged to the Winchester brothers and if it was here, so were they.

Heart pounding, you crept closer to what looked to be an old theater near the alley. The door was left slightly ajar. Definitely a trap, but again what choices did you have other than to follow.

Knife in hand, you slipped inside.

The old theater was in disrepair. Dust covered the seats, and the air smelled of mildew. Yet the stage area seemed oddly intact, as though it were still in use. Before you could explore further, a low growl stopped you in your tracks.

Out of the shadows stepped a werewolf, its eyes glowing an unnatural yellow. You barely had time to react as it lunged at you.

“Of course,” you muttered, diving to the side. Your silver knife caught its flank, but the thing was fast. Claws swiped, catching your arm, but you kept moving, twisting the blade into its chest until it dropped.

Before you could catch your breath, a second growl echoed through the room.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned.

The woman from the bar stepped into the dim light, her face twisted, fangs bared.

“I knew you’d be trouble. You just had to poke your nose where it didn’t belong” she snarled, lunging at you.

You fought with everything you had. Her speed and strength outmatched the first werewolf by a mile. Claw marks tore through your jacket, and pain flared in your ribs, but you pressed on, besides you’d been through worse. Finally, a lucky strike drove your blade into her heart with every ounce of frustration you’d built up in the last 24 hours.. She crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

Panting, you staggered to your feet, surveying the room as you did so and spotted a faint light coming from backstage. You followed it and found the Winchesters tied up and unconscious but thankfully alive. Working quickly, you untied Sam, and began your attempts at waking the younger of the two brothers up.

“Come on Sam, wake up!” you whispered-yelled, shaking him furiously. His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked at you in confusion.

“Who—”

“Hunter. Bobby sent me. We can swap stories later.”

Before you could untie Dean, another werewolf burst through the door.

“Son of a—” you curesed under your breath, turning back to Sam “You handle your brother. I’ll handle him.”

The fight was grueling. This werewolf was stronger and faster than the others. It pressed you relentlessly, forcing you to dodge and counter with every ounce of skill you had. At one point, it pinned you, its jaws snapping inches from your face. Desperately, you reached for your knife, plunging it into its side. The creature howled in pain but didn’t relent.

You tried to reach for your blade again, but the creature had beat you to it and thrown it far out of your reach.

Just when you thought you were screwed, a gunshot rang out. The werewolf collapsed right on top of you.

‘’Ugh, seriously’’ you muttered, annoyed, even though someone had just saved your life.

You pushed away the werewolf, revealing Dean Winchester, awake and armed, smirking like he’d just saved the day.

“I had him,” you panted, brushing dust from your jacket.

Dean grinned, holstering his gun. “I think you mean, thank you.”

You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t suppress a smile. “I didn’t need saving, but appreciate it anyway.”

You sat up, your body aching more now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Your hands were shaking, but you steadied them, trying not to show how badly you hurt.

You glanced over at Sam, who had just come into the room, taking in the full scene in front of him, his gaze flicking from you to the wolves you had ganked before even getting to the boys. "Did you—?"

You nodded, your muscles protesting as you stood. The reality of your injuries hit you all at once—scrapes, bruises, and a deep ache in your ribs. It wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, but the exhaustion was creeping in. You’d deal with it later, when you had the space to breathe.

"Yeah, well, Bobby sent me to save your asses," you joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Would’ve been pretty embarrassing if I’d gotten myself ganked in the process.”

Sam didn’t laugh. His gaze was fixed on you, scanning your face, the bloodied scratches on your arm. He was looking at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"You’re hurt," Sam murmured, his voice softer than you expected.

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, brushing him off with a wave. “Just a few scratches. Nothing I can’t handle.”

But Sam didn’t look convinced. His jaw clenched, and he took a step toward you. “You sure about that?”

You laughed, a little too sharply. "Mhm. Besides, you should be worried about yourself. Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

You were used to being the tough one, the one who didn’t show weakness. But there was something about the way Sam was looking at you, his eyes filled with concern, that made it harder to pretend you were unaffected. It was sweet, but you weren't ready to let him in on just how much it affected you.

He didn’t answer, just kept looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Your heart fluttered, but you shook it off. “Seriously. I’m fine,” you said gently. “We should get out of here. Let Bobby know you two are alright.”

He didn’t answer, just kept looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Your heart fluttered, but you shook it off. “Seriously. I’m fine,” you said gently. “We should get out of here. Let Bobby know you two are alright.”

“Wait! I didn’t get your name,” he called out.

You smirked, turning to face him. “That’s because I didn’t give it.”

Sam frowned, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Guess I’ll just have to track you down next time.”

“Good luck with that,” you teased, climbing into your car.

As you drove away, the open road stretched ahead of you, peaceful as ever. But this time, you couldn’t shake the thought of a certain tall, hazel-eyed hunter. Maybe working alone wasn’t as perfect as you’d always believed. And as much as you hated to admit it, the idea of a little chaos... didn’t seem so bad.

The hum of the engine mixed with the music on the radio filled the car as you drove into the night, your mind still running a few steps behind, tangled in thoughts of Sam, of Dean, and what came next.

You couldn't help but wonder—was this the last time you'd cross paths with the Winchesters? Somehow, you doubted it.

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masterlist

[angelsdean]

cas's plan in 15x13 is so beyond fucked up. making jack "kill" him and when jack expresses concern and apprehension over this cas is like, lol it'll be fine like ??? WHAT IF IT'S NOT CAS!? WHAT IF YOU DIE AGAIN FOR GOOD AND IT'S JACK'S "FAULT"? like how do u think jack will feel abt that? how will he cope with that guilt??

JACK: Cas, I-I may not have a soul, but, uh, I know killing you is wrong. What if I screw up? CASTIEL: Well, then I'll be lost forever. But I think you'll do fine. 

cas, baby, these are not words of comfort lol

[heliotrope155]

Castiel swaps in and out of languages and Dean starts learning some outside of the dead or esoteric ones he knows from cases just to see if he can ever surprise Cas. Once in a while Cas teaches him something incorrect on purpose and laughs himself silly. Or Cas uses his knowledge of languages to say ridiculously soft shit to Dean, and informs Dean, who would like a translation, to pick up Finnish if he has the time.

[phrysic]

more mlp horror cas pretty please with a massive cherry on top

say no more

[lazarrusrising]

I think it's interesting that Castiel has this sort of dual reputation in heaven, to the soldier angel he's a legend, originally entrusted with the greatest tasks, then forging his own path. To the higher ups he's a known defective, reset so many times because he always finds a way to break protocol, and yet they still use him again and again and they forge him again and again and he frees himself again and again. To the soldiers of heaven he's both the best of what they could be and a cautionary tale. To the generals he's a nuke, a weapon powerful because of its ability to be unconventional but volatile for that exact same reason.

[sandsofsolstice]

happy 15th birthday to this guy and his doomed yaoi

[shallowseeker]

I walked with you once upon a dream an' stuff

s4

Dean: * recognizes that dream Cas is the REAL Cas immediately

is not surprised to see Cas in his dream

is so keyed into Cas's emotional state that he knows something is wrong pretty immediately

the whole scene has the air of them being CAUGHT in a private place they go regularly

///

And later in s5

And these lines... he could've played straight but chose to play like this: shy-but-pleased, like he's fishing for attention or more information about why Cas has come to visit him.

Dean (practically preening): Man, you gotta StOp PoKinG aRouND in My DrEaMs teehee*

(1) This seems to imply that Cas visits Dean in his dreams a lot more than we see. Like come on, "stop poking around in my dreams." And Dean is practically gleeful when Cas arrives in his dream, like that man is EXCITED.

There's something too in he follows it up with (2) a warning that Cas should be careful poking, cause Dean is definitely probably having sexy "me" time in his dreams on occasion that he is definitely bubbling over with excitement at the mere thought of Cas walking in on.

When Cas turns the conversation to more business/work matters, Dean's face drops, like he's disappointed that this isn't a pure social call.

[angelsberrymilk]

I could've fixed John Winchester. I would've shoved my fist so far up his ass I'd factory reset him and make him act better to his fucking kids and get his shite together like a man would. then I'd kiss him all over and let him sleep in my bed.

[walk-to-gallows]

Jimmy Novak and John Winchester

[thefableddestiel]

My mind right now:

ok continue working on the lobster Destiel fic but also here’s a great long scene I just thought of for time travel Destiel and also wouldn’t it be so fun if Dean explored Europe in another fic? And also here’s a scene of Castiel threatening John Winchester because I need it and oh here’s another fic idea for a completely different fandom.

Like PLEASE you’re overloading me. Makes it so hard to finish anything.

[top-scar-maverick]

The 60s version od superwholock

[babyblue-mind]

mixed fandom doodles

[nobodymitskigabriel]

Gabriel just got done killing the guy who tortured him for years and sam says "welcome to the team :D" like some kind of walmart recruiter but gabriel who has more than two brain cells and knows what happens when you team up with the winchesters is like "be so fucking serious rn" and fucks off for some petty ass revenge man he was honestly so real for that.