#spn coda 15x18

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Empty

There’s nothing abstract about death. No grappling with mythical concepts. No vague hopes, built on blind faith. Not for Dean Winchester, anyway. Death is a gut punch, immediate and real, and he feels its shock in every bone as he sits on the bunker’s cold floor, head in his hands.

And afterimage of Cas plays on repeat in his head. The sucking, slurping noise of the Empty taking him. Castiel’s teary smile - serene, accepting.

He’s gone.

He’s gone, and with him the chance to reply to his confession. To man the fuck up and say something, anything instead of just standing there like an idiot and, tail tucked between his legs, going for a stupid “Don’t do this.”

Love.

Loss.

He can handle both, but not like this, not in this sudden, heady, terrible mash-up of something ending when it could just have begun.

Castiel’s death cuts through Dean like an axe. He’s cleaved in half and bleeding out. No strength left to pick up the phone and answer Sam’s call. No oxygen in his brain to process that the world is ending. His muscles are deflating, skin cold, and everything that hurts is slowly growing numb.

Cas is in the Empty. Dean is empty. Hollow. Drained. A shell.

Death isn’t abstract. It’s physical. Sticky, black and consuming.

Dean cries into his hands.

Take me as well.

[ipromiseimawriter]

WIP TITLE GAME

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Tagged by @zahnie - thank you omg!!

From most recently worked on to least (roughly): (I tend to be pretty literal with these for the most part, if they don't already have a title)

destiel fix it fic - draft 2: is what it says on the tin. I will get to chipping at the end of this godforsaken series, so hELP ME. I do have a fancy lil summary though (this could get edited later but y'know!!):

“What are you doing? Dean, no–!” “You asked me to stop you. So I’m stopping you.” ( As promised, the Empty came for Castiel when his soul called. When it sang a happiness so profound that nothing else could possibly contain it. But Dean wasn’t ready to let go – and if you were to ask him, he’d swear he had failed Cas one too many times. So when the time came, he sank right down with him. )  Chuck could’ve called it, really. But there’s no biblical preparation for their journey through the Empty. It’s all up to them, now, while Sam and Jack (and friends) race to undo Chuck’s damage to the world. Alternating POV. 15x18 CODA/Fix-It Fic for end of 15x18/15x19 & beyond [15x20 who is she lmao]

destiel theatre bitches AU: an incredibly self-indulgent AU where Dean and Castiel are professors for a theatre department at a (made-up) small liberal arts school somewhere in Kansas. Cas is a new arrival to the department who's making waves (and suggesting some batshit shows for production), Dean's the gruff and well-loved scene shop head/tech professor who doesn't like his toes getting stepped on (jk yes he does), and they're gonna be soooo normal about it (me when i lie). nearly everyone and their mom is in this AU. we have fun here

Welcome to Purgatory: an original work (longform)! a story inspired by my time interacting with SPN/with other horror-fantasy adjacent medias, some characters I've had for 1000 years, and just - fucking around and finding out. I def tried to NaNoWriMo it before, to no such luck, so I just chip at it on my own time. I've got a running tag for it if you're ever interested! (old summary)

Jules Herrick went missing without a trace in the early nineties, and his hunting partner, Simon Villanova, never saw him again. We jump ahead about twenty-five years and realize why he should’ve stayed missing. Victor and Amelia are two childhood friends separated by time and responsibility, reuniting for what should be a normal road trip under less fortunate circumstances - the death of a mutual friend. However, the trip is quickly derailed by a strange pursuer that sends them on the run, and into action.  The people who catch up with them to help are not what they expect. The lives their families have led were kept from the two for safety. But between a rogue demon, its lost hellhound, and a secret organization hunting down the missing man and his cohorts, one question must be asked: What does Jules Herrick want with the end of the world, as they know it?

go catch a sunset (stanford-era dean/the outsiders bullshit): a Stanford-era Dean fic (which has 2 chapters up!) that I sort of use as my lil swimming pool for figuring ideas out? Mostly just speculation and big character thoughts on that very vulnerable time. I'm v much looking forward to introducing both Bobby and Cassie soon, getting some Winchester drama, and picking at those good backstory characters.

mama barracuda (WIP title - eldritch horror type shit): an original work (short story). "There's a monster in the woods, just off the beaten path from Hope's home. She isn't the first to be trapped into position of Keeper for the Barracuda of the Backwoods, but she is the first - in a very long time - to truly understand her. They call her Mama." So essentially - monster collects teeth for her own rotting mouth. Sisyphean effort on the Keeper's part. Symbiotic parasite/mother-daughter type shit. LOTS TO UNPACK.

honorable mention: a bunch of plays and other lil bits that would take me too long to describe <333

tagging: @subtlefires, @disabled-dean , @butchabouttown, @luckshiptoshore , and anyone who wants to play! (this includes all my friends who may see this and go "hey i have wips". give it to me. i want to see it)

[bending-sickle]

Do you have any fanfic recommendations for post 15x18/15x20 destiel coda and or fix-it? You have impeccable taste.

I watched it tonight and I’m feeling the despair keenly.

i have a confession to make… i don’t actually read much fanfic anymore. and by anymore i mean like…the past ten years. idk why. it’s not like i don’t have six pages of Mark For Later on ao3, and two of Bookmarks back from before i knew of my beloved “mark for later” button. which means almost all of my recommendations would be a decade (or more!) old.

the most recent spn fics i’ve read (am reading. am so very slowly reading. oh god i’m so sorry and so slow) are both AUs: @mythopoetry Benedictions, aka priest porn, because i adore both mythopoetry and their writing, which is always *chef’s kiss*, and this fic is giving me shrimp emotions; and the Down to Agincourt series by seperis, because mythopoetry would not shut up about it (affectionate), and because The End episode AUs my beloved.

which is to say…i have not even stumbled upon other people’s recommendations for fics post Confession, much less have any of my own. i’m sorry. i have nothing to offer your despair except a hug /o/

if anyone seeing this has suggestions, do chime in.

[wintrata]

and so the Righteous Man knelt;

pairing: dean winchester/castiel tags: spn 15x18 kinda-coda, angst, major character death, flash fic, 700wc (read on ao3)

Our Father, who art fucking around Somewhere, You know ain’t the praying type, but I don’t know what to do without him.

and so the Righteous Man knelt;

Our Father, who art fucking around Somewhere, You know ain’t the praying type, but I don’t know what to do without him. It’s been an hour and a half and I don’t think I’m getting up off of this floor, ‘cause he loves me. I never even got to say it back. Did You write my heartbreak, too?

Hallowed be thy name when he calls for You, even when You didn’t think to answer back, and that’s years, man, I watched him. I saw the fall. I’d say sorry for planting the seeds of doubt in Your good soldier’s heart but that was Your work as much as it was mine. You never even picked up the phone.

Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Does that please You? Is that sufficient? That my mama died flaming on burning plaster over my dad, and You wrote the pages to that book, was it enough? My baby tells me he loves me and has to leave, did You need more, still? Why would Thy Will need all this bleeding? Why would Thy Will mean the first of the sins was love? That all we’d ever do was get it wrong? I’m no saint, I know my day will come, and You’ve no room for me upstairs, I won’t fight that, but I love him, and I haven’t let him know yet.

Would You give us this day, and the day after that? Just a fraction of a fraction of a moment of his time, I’ll make him sandcastles and breakfast, and apologise some more. I don’t beg, You know that, You wrote that into my wirings. You know I’m telling the truth, but just give him back to me, I’ll not bite the hand that I eat from. I don’t trust myself to be deserving but for him You know I’d try. Just a day. For a day with my baby I’d penance with my life. Pay another forty years in the pit You heated, for the forty years I did it all wrong. Your measure of a lifetime in sulfur and sores for the one I'm living now, I haven't got much left anyway. I’ll make churches with my bare hands, if You bring him back, I would swim the deep, dig the grave back open, fit back into the box. Say You are love. Say You loved the world so much You gave Your only son. Say I'm desperate. Say I love him so much I don't even have to be here for it if it meant he'd wake in his bed and hold his son, I’m praying, man, can You hear? Can't You give him the chance I'm not gettin'? I can’t be all grief and handprints and running.

Do You take deals, God? I’ll put the drink down, I’ll stop the lies, give back our daily bread, our tender meat, the next headless corpse or frightful spirit, another go at my soul. Bring my sweetheart back.

And forgive us our trespasses, I promise not to make any more, do You hear me? It means You’ve won, it means I’m Cain, means I’m crawling on the dirt, I’m the murder. Means I'm whatever you need me to be. Means I’m scared. Means I’m afraid that if I were to lift my stone-wielding hand and ask my little brother to close his eyes, he would understand and turn his back to me. He knows I'm asking for my love back. He’d forgive me for this, just as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil,

or at least deliver him to me. Or me to him. Or someone good to somebody who don't deserve 'em but loves 'em like nothing You've ever written in Your good Book. If You opened the door I would ask to be folded into the Empty just as he. I don't suppose I'm asking for too much. Heaven is a peace I'm not getting but long already made. If You can't lead him back to the phonebooth, can You at least let me slip into the dark?

Amen.

[destielle]

Part 1 2 

[wormstacheangel]

15x18 coda fic...?

I had an idea that bugged me so I wrote it. What if Dean just...threw himself at Cas while the Empty was taking him? Then this happened. (comfort/fluff/first kiss)

No.

Cas looked back at him. A smile so big and loving but heartbreaking all at once was still on his lips.  

No. No. No.

Dean watched it all from the ground where Cas had shoved him to protect him again because that’s what Cas does. He protects him. He saves him time after time. Everything he has done has been for...him. He always knew that Cas made it pretty clear but he could never accept it. It made no sense for an angel of the lord to sacrifice so much for him, for him specifically, but here he was doing it again. Sacrificing his life once again but it’s so much different this time. 

“No!” A shaky cry came out of him as he half lunged and crawled to take a hold of Cas’s legs that were already covered in black goo. 

Dean can feel the goo start to envelop him as well and while fear was completely eating at him, there was nothing in the damn universe that could make him let go. He held his breath as he pressed his face into Cas’s thigh and felt the goo crawling up his neck to finally swallow them. 

Then it was silent. 

Dean felt like he just woke up but he knew only a few seconds had passed. His grip was still tight on Cas’s legs but the goo was gone now. He let out the breath of air that was burning his lungs before he even dared to look up, the glare was so clearly burning into the top of his head.

“Dean?”

Dean still wasn’t thinking clearly as he hid his face into Cas’s thigh. Clinging to him as he kneeled at his feet because Cas was still with him. He could feel a sob trying to escape from his throat but he just buried his face deeper into Cas. Letting the tears fall but still, the goodbye was not processing with him. He was about to lose Cas again but he’s right here. He was still with him.

“Dean?”

Cas pulled his white-knuckled grip off of him as he kneeled down to look at him but Dean couldn’t stand the separation so he pulled Cas into a strong hug. One that must have surprised Cas as he made a gasping noise while Dean hid his face into the side of Cas’s face. Feeling the tickle of his hair on his lips and nose. Breathing in the scent of rain, Cas always carries and lets one of his hands buried themselves into his hair while the other wrapped around his shoulders to hold him close. He has him. 

Then he felt Cas’s shoulders shake. His arms remained at his side as his chin rested on Dean’s shoulder. He could just picture Cas’s face and it made him squeeze his eyes shut as he let out his own gasping sob. His hand grasping at Cas’s coat afraid to let go. Afraid he would really disappear again if his hold loosens because he has his own confession to say but everything was overwhelming him. 

“Cas,” Dean took a shaky breath against Cas’s skin before he rested his forehead on Cas’s shoulder. “Tell me again. Say it again. I need to know...I need to know it’s really you.”

Dean didn’t move as Cas’s hands finally touched him. He started making soft strokes down his spine, comforting and warm. Not at all desperate the way Dean was holding him. 

“Dean, Chuck has no hold on me. You know that. I’m real. My feelings are real. We… we are real.” His voice was still calm but he could hear softness in them still. The way he was still holding back cries.

“Then say it again.” Dean pushed back just enough to take Cas’s face in between his shaky hands. Their eyes meet for the first time since being here and Dean had to fight back another sob as he meets those watery blue eyes. With his thumbs, he wiped Cas’s tears away and desperately said, “Please. I need to hear you say it again.”

He smiled again as he started saying his name but Dean shook his head as he let his head hang between them. A shaky breath or laugh escaping him as his mind still fogged up, nothing making sense anymore.

“No, wait, shh!” He shook his head as if everything would clear up but he was still feeling a bit dizzy. Not ready to hear the words and finally accept them. “Shit, fuck, I’m not ready. Wait”

He heard Cas chuckle, felt the shaking in between his hands, before he said, “You’re so stupid.”

“Gee thanks, Cas, and here I thought you loved me.” The teasing came out so naturally that it shocked Dean when those words escaped his lips. 

Of course, Cas would not skip a beat as he said, “I do - love you I mean - but I also think you’re an idiot at times. Like right now for instance.” He pulled Dean’s hands off of him but held them tightly on his lap. Dean looked up to meet his glare. “Jumping into the grasp of The Empty? Really, Dean?”

“Cas, I-I can’t lose you again.” Dean shook his head as he looked back at him. Watching Cas strain to hold back his emotions as tears continued to flow. 

“Dean, it’s fine. I was at peace with my decision. If it meant saving you,” Cas looked down at their hands moving them just enough so the desperation wasn’t showing. Cas sat back on the black hollow floor and held one of Dean’s hands. Held it as if they were going to go for a nice walk instead of discussing his own sacrifice. “I’ll do anything.”

Dean sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder as their hands rested on Cas’s knee. “So what? I’m supposed to willingly let you go?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Cas rolls his eyes as he uses his free hand to wipe his face. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“Well, I do.”

“No.” Cas says firmly as he shakes his head. He made a move to let go of their hands but Dean only tightened his grip. Cas sighs as he looks down at their hands again before looking back at Dean. Softer but still an edge. “No, you need to leave.”

“He’s right you know.” Dean turns towards the familiar voice and sees Meg appear before them. Her smile wild and manic as she glared down at them. He instantly stood up to block Cas from her view. “No humans in my void.”

“I’m not leaving without, Cas.” He could feel Cas’s hand gripping at the back of his shirt, ready to yank him out of the way at the first sign of trouble. 

“Dean,” Cas started but Dean reached behind him to squeeze his wrist.

“Shut up.” Dean tells him before looking back at Meg or not Meg. “We’re kind of a package deal so you might as well throw us both back.”

She chuckles before she takes a shaky step towards them. “Humans aren’t supposed to be here. You shouldn’t be here. You’re being too noisy. Everything is too loud now!”

Dean pulled at Cas’s wrist to pull him in close. To just make sure he was there. “Then let us continue our conversation back at home and we’ll leave you alone.”

“No! Castiel and I had a deal.”

“Fine! Send me back alone but you’ll never get peace.” Dean threatened as he pulled Cas along with him when he took a step towards Meg. “You’re gonna deal with my stubborn ass poking at you again and again until I get him back. Cause trust me, sweetheart, I’m not someone who gives up easily. I killed Death already, twice, and you’re going to be next on my list.”

Meg just started to giggle, low and deep, before she started to full-on laugh. Throwing her head back before she looked back at them with her wild smile. She grabbed her head as she closed her eyes. “I just...I want to sleep! Let me sleep.”

“What if we promised not to bother you?” Cas stepped forward and away from Dean’s grasp. “We were all betrayed by Billie but what if we work together again. Help each other get what we want. You get your peace again and we-”

“You guys walk out of here?” Cas only nodded while Dean couldn’t stop himself from reaching for Cas, his hands grasping at his trench coat. She eyed them both. “I never want either of you or that...Jack, here again.”

“Got it. We can do that.” Dean says as he stands beside Cas. Looking over at him while Cas kept his eyes forward. Standing strong and confident while his face was a blank stare but Dean could see his mind running. “Cas?”

“We still need to defeat Chuck. I can’t promise I’ll make it out of that alive. I may be back here in a few hours or days after we return.” Cas doesn’t look at him as he talked but at Meg who was glaring back at him. “If you help us defeat him maybe we can all finally have peace.”

“How?”

“I summon you again.” 

Dean opened his mouth to argue but Cas shook his head at him, holding his hand out to stop him from talking but Dean instead took it. Intertwining their fingers together to let Cas know that if it’s a dumb suicidal plan again then he better be ready for him to follow him into the damn dark again. 

“I summon you when I am close to Chuck and you-”

“And I’ll bring him here.” Meg finished Cas’s sentence with a smirk. “Where he is powerless.”

“He has Amara in him so that would keep them both alive. Keep the balance.” Dean adds as Cas eyes finally turn to look at him with a smile on his lips as things start to fall in place. He squeezes his hand with a hopeful look because maybe, just maybe, they had a chance for some real happiness. 

“We got work to do then.” Cas tells Dean before turning back to Meg.

She looks back at them with a less strained and creepy smile before she says, “I’ll be waiting for your summon then? I’m still connected to you, Castiel, so I’ll hear you.”

Cas gave a solid nod while Dean didn’t like the sound of that at all. He was about to open his mouth to ask what that meant but then Meg waved her hand and they were in the dark again. 

Dean woke up face down back in the dungeon. He blinked awake as he sat up trying to get his head on straight when he sprang up to look for Cas, afraid he was left behind. That he was tricked and this was how he finds out that he actually lost Cas. He lost him before he could even-

“Oh.” Dean turns to find Cas passed out behind him. He was laying on his back with his tie draped across his face. He couldn’t help but chuckle wanting to add another picture to his collection but there were more important things to do, to say, right now. “Cas?”

He crawled over to him and moved his tie as he shook his shoulders to wake him. “Come on, sleeping beauty, time to get up.”

Cas groaned as his eyes tighten up before he opens them, squinting up at Dean with a confused haze. “Dean?”

“Yeah, buddy, come on.” Dean helped sit him but then he was pulled into an overwhelming hug. The relief that was running out of Cas was heavy as his grip was tight but for the first time, Cas turned his head to hide his face into Dean’s neck. “Cas?”

Cas shook his head and once again Dean felt the angel shake with silent cries. 

Dean held on to him as he tried to comfort him but his own tears were blinding him. Cas was here, alive and in his arms. He almost lost him again and just like every other time he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to go on. How was he supposed to care about saving a world that he wanted to escape from? Now, now everything was right again. Well, almost everything.

Dean pulled back just enough to look back at Cas’s red-rimmed eyes, the most he has ever seen the angel cry. 

“You’re a mess.” He reached over to wipe Cas’s face with his sleeve and that made Cas slowly smile before a choke of a laugh escaped him.

“Yeah, well you don’t look so hot either.” Cas copied him, Dean’s face being wiped clean by the rough fabric of the dirty old trench coat. His smile slow-growing before he was grinning, dazzling, and beautiful as his fingers then replaced the fabric. Then the smile became a pout again as he tried to fight back more tears. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I didn’t want to leave you but I saw no other way to save you.”

His fingers reached to caress Dean’s face with no hesitation. Dean cloaked Cas’s hands with his own before he asked again. “Tell me now.”

Cas rolled his eyes as he shared his you’re-such-an-idiot smile. “Dean, are you sure this time?”

“Yeah, Cas, say it again.”

Cas features all soften as he relaxed while he looked into his eyes. There was never fear in Cas’s eyes while he took a deep breath. He looked so happy so...in love.

“I love you, Dean.”

Dean let go of the breath he must have been holding as he read Cas’s lips. His voice echoing in his head, trying to compare both of the confessions but they both sounded so confident. This time though it wasn’t a goodbye. No, this was just the beginning for them. 

Dean let his forehead fall against Cas’s own, a move that surprised Cas as he froze under the touch. He felt too overwhelmed with it all but it’s true. His angel loved him, the words that always were unspoken between them were finally out in the open. That whole speech was Cas. It was how he truly felt about Dean and maybe he wasn’t as good with his words as Cas but he could at least say it.

“I love you, Cas.” Dean fought the lump in his throat. “I love you. You...you have me. You always had me.”

“Dean.” Cas gasped out still unmoving as all of this was new territory for them but it wasn’t weird. It wasn’t uncomfortable but just unsure. Still hesitant. As if they both couldn’t believe they finally crossed this dumb line they drew themselves. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Dean pulled back just enough that their noses touched but he wasn’t ready to be so far away from him just yet. “Are you?”

“Yes!” Cas said sounding half annoyed that Dean ever doubted him in the first place and half thrilled that he could finally say it. “It’s one of the few things I know for certain. I love you, Dean.”

“Cool. Can I…?” Dean wanted to ask but now he finally felt the embarrassment, the one that always crawled up his neck when they were found too close together. Lost in each other’s gaze and always drifting closer without words.

“Please do.”

Dean watched Cas's eyes drift closed and just when he got the confidence to lean in he heard his name being called out in the halls. Desperate and scared.

“Sam?” Cas turned towards the hall and heard Jack call back to him. “Jack!”

Dean let himself be pulled up by Cas before they were both almost tackled down by their kid. “You’re alive!”

“Barely,” Dean mumbled as Cas turned to narrow his eyes at him, telling him not to worry the kid so much. “We’re fine. How are you guys?”

Sam walked in then and they get the cliff notes of Sam and Jack’s missing person’s case. Then it was their turn to do the same, leaving out the whole them part out of it. Now they had to figure out how they can make Chuck bring all these people back before they shove his ass into the Empty. 

“Come on, we can check the town out.” Sam tells them and Jack follows right behind him. 

Cas was going to follow them right out the door but Dean then grabbed his arm to pull him back to him. Taking his face in his hands and before Cas could say anything, though his wide eyes made him believe that Cas wasn’t about to say anything to stop him, Dean leaned in to finally kiss him.

Letting himself melt against Cas as he has always wanted to. Moving his hands to wrap around his waist, under the coat and jacket, to hold him close to his chest. Wanting more as Cas carefully rested his hands on his shoulders as if not knowing what to do with them but he was so confident in the kiss as he moved his lips along with his own with the same eagerness.  

Then he pulled away too quickly as his hot breath tickled Dean’s lips. His bright eyes looking down at his lips then back at his eyes. “We have to go, Dean.”

“Okay,” Dean leaned down for a quick peek and he couldn’t stop his chuckle as Cas chased after his lips. “Let’s go save the world and then we can pick this up later. Deal?”

Cas nodded, flashing Dean a smile before he said, “Of course, Dean.”

“Guys! Come on!” 

Dean takes Cas’s hand squeezing it before they raced back down the hall to meet up with Sam. A last chapter in Chuck’s story starting but they knew they had the power to write their own ending because they are real. This is real. 

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

when I say canon, I don't mean we got everything we deserved. I mean, we weren't delusional when we rooted for a love story between a fallen angel and the righteous man, all these years. I mean I can now, no holds barred, claim that castiel is in love with dean winchester and that that is an integral part of supernatural. I mean I can now believe, way stronger than ever before, that it's only a matter of time until they're textually together, because I know dean's in love with him too, and I can finally picture him actually saying it on screen. I mean, a relationship that's mattered a lot to me for a really long time, was finally romantically acknowledged, and I mean, I'm holding onto it, and I'm holding onto hope.

[woulddieforgabriel]

Okay but what if Cas came back after 15x19 and he just. Didn't remember anything. He knows the Empty took him, but he has absolutely no idea why — or how, for that matter. How could he possibly have found true happiness in the midst of the worst apocalypse they'd ever faced? The fuck is Dean supposed to do now?

[queen-rowenas]

sparks fly - 1.3k words, destiel, first kiss

Cas is back.

After defeating Chuck and fixing the world, Jack brought him and the other angels back, good as new, wings and all. It’s the first time in years that he’s had his batteries at full power. And he’s still getting used to being a fully-powered angel.

There’s a lot he’s getting used to.

Like being Dean’s.

It first happens when they get back to the bunker after finding Cas. Dean slings his backpack off his shoulder and onto the war room table before faltering, casting half of a glance at the angel lingering close by. Sam gives the pair a pointed glance over Eileen’s head as he wraps his arm around her and heads to the kitchen.

Dean clears his throat, starts to turn to look at Cas, but stops himself. Even though he’s spent weeks not wanting to look at anything else, hoping to catch a glimpse of him after watching the Empty swallow him up.

Steeling himself, Dean turns fully to face him, and he sucks in a breath. Castiel looks at him expectantly, eyes a little too wide, a little too hesitant.

Everything had happened so fast earlier, seeing those blue eyes again, the emotions bubbling up and threatening to burst out of Dean’s chest as he threw his arms around the angel and buried his face in his shoulder and cried.

But that had been it. Castiel had smiled, glassy eyed, and hugged Sam and Eileen too, and the four had piled into the Impala to go home.

And now they were here, safe and whole and together. And a new fear is trying to crawl up Dean’s throat and choke him as he stares, opening his mouth with no words.

But there’s nothing to be afraid of now. There aren’t any monsters lurking, for now at least. There isn’t any cruel writer trying to keep them apart or in line. And there isn’t any doubt holding them back now. Castiel had made his feelings pretty clear.

Cas shifts back a step, idly running his fingers over the war room table, eyes looking at anything but Dean, and a thought strikes through Dean like lightning.

He doesn’t know.

And Dean can’t stand for that, so he closes the space between them and takes Cas’s face in trembling hands, his heart pounding in his ears, and he kisses him.

Every lightbulb in the room bursts in a shower a sparks and glass.

Dean flinches and looks up as the room goes dark before the emergency lights kick on, casting them in a low, red light. He’s still holding Cas’s face in his hands, the angel staring at him with wide eyes, lips parted.

Cas blinks a few times before glancing up too, a faint blush on his cheeks barely visible under the low light.

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up. “Was that you?”

Cas alternates between staring at Dean and avoiding his gaze, absently licking his lips, which is totally unfair how distracting it is. “Yes, I—um, I’m not yet used to having my grace at full capacity, and I may have been a little...overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed,” Dean breathes, almost laughing in disbelief, a slow smile on his lips.

Because Cas is an angel, an ancient celestial being with knowledge and powers beyond human understanding who’s seen the world and humanity from its first days and led countless armies of angels into battle and stood face-to-face with the underbelly of the universe.

And he’s overwhelmed by some dumb, emotionally constipated disaster of a human making a weak attempt at sharing his heart because he doesn’t know how to do it right.

Castiel smiles, something impossibly fond as the shock and uncertainty melt away, and he raises a hand to wrap around the one Dean has cupping his neck, running a thumb over the back of his hand.

“You think too loud, Dean.”

Dean’s almost too embarrassed to miss the way his voice shakes. Huffing out a short laugh, he moves in closer to Cas, still cradling his head and neck, and rests their foreheads together.

The air hums with electricity, and it’s like it’s coursing through Dean’s veins as a thrill runs through him. He bumps their noses together before pressing another kiss to Cas’s lips, this one slower, deeper.

The monitors behind them hum to life, readings lighting up the screens with a loud whirring.

Dean grins against his lips and pulls back with a chuckle, even more thrilled when Cas sways forward to follow him.

“I’m sorry, I—”

Dean cuts him off with another kiss. “Don’t be. We’re just gonna have to get you acclimated.”

“I think you’re right,” Cas said, already honing in on Dean’s mouth.

When Sam walks into the war room, flashlight in hand, he only sighs and shakes his head as the two make out against the war room table.

As the days pass by, Castiel does eventually get a hold on his powers, accustomed to the way the grace thrums through him when Dean kisses him good morning and good night and hello and goodbye and everything in between. But there are the few occasions when Dean catches him off guard.

Like when they’re on a store run and Dean catches Cas watching a couple holding hands, his fingers twitching at his side. So he reaches over and laces their fingers together.

Cas startles, looking between Dean and their joined hands, a soft flush overtaking his face. The nearby display of TVs on the wall starts flickering, and Dean tugs Cas along before he causes any product damage.

One night they’re sitting in the Impala at a drive-in a couple hours away. The drive was long, but totally worth it in Dean’s opinion as he pops a handful of popcorn in his mouth, an angel in the passenger seat beside him, munching on their shared popcorn one piece at a time.

“That’s not medically accurate. He couldn’t have survived that,” Cas says during the final scene, holding a singular piece of popcorn just in front of his mouth. His frown turns contemplative. “Unless his partner has some sort of healing ability.”

“It’s not that kind of movie, babe,” Dean says through a mouthful of popcorn.

Cas nods and hums, something low and grim. “Then he should be dead.”

And in that moment, as a grin breaks across his face and a laugh bubbles up from his chest, it really hits Dean that he really loves this angel.

Because it’s just something so painfully Cas.

He sets the bowl of popcorn up on the dash and scoots over to close the space between them, taking Cas’s face in his hands and kissing him hard. Cas gives a surprised hum, but is quick to wrap his arms around him as Dean presses him into the door.

Dean draws back just enough to laugh out an I love you against his lips before diving back in. He feels Cas grin into the kiss as fingers tangle in his hair.

The light of the projector starts to flicker. Someone a few cars over complains.

Cas breaks away, his chest heaving against Dean’s as he turns his head to look outside. Dean takes the opening to press his lips to the angel’s neck.

Cas’s breath stutters and the lights with it. “Dean, the movie.”

Dean stops, lifting his head, only a little distracted by the way Castiel’s hand grips his shirt. “Do you wanna finish watching it?”

“No,” Cas says, a little rough, “No, I just—there are others trying to watch it, and I think...” He glances away as the lights flicker again. “I don’t want to ruin it for them.”

“Oh.” Dean peels himself off of the angel to squint over at the screen. “It’s pretty much over. It’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m very sure.”

Cas smiles and pulls him back in.

The drive-in has to buy a generator.

— tag list (ask to be added or removed)

@ccstiel @dstiel @expectingtofly @galaxies-of-the-heart @galaxycastiel @good-things-do-happen-dean @mishha @rainbowscas @theangelwiththewormstache @van-dynex

[quillquiver]

Destiel Coda to 15x20: Carry On. Major spoilers ahead. Because this story is ours.

Heaven is the open road.

It’s always kind of been that, for him. Solace and escape. Comfort. Freedom. It’s gravel crunching under Baby’s wheels and Zep blasting on her speakers. The cooler filled to the brim in the back. A never-ending sunset. So when Dean slides behind Baby’s wheel and leaves the Roadhouse behind, he’s happy to drive. He thinks he’s owed that, maybe—to leave. To go anywhere. Everywhere. Nowhere.

No monsters in Heaven, right?

So he drives. The landscape changes because he wills it to; golden fields of wheat turn to jagged, snow-capped mountains, desert sand shifts to the ocean lapping up against a rocky shore. It’s good until it’s not—until Dean’s hands itch and restlessness squeezes the breath from his lungs. Baby hasn’t been this empty in a long time. He’d forgotten how big she is inside. How much space there is.

It’s weird.

For supposedly guaranteeing peace, there’s something unsettling about… this whole thing. Something hollow, maybe, or incomplete.

Heaven’s lonely.

Dean presses on the gas and his intent changes, endless highway turning to unmaintained logging road. Mile markers morph into pine trees and he grips and re-grips the steering wheel. Praying isn’t a conscious thing anymore—not since you changed me, Dean—but there isn’t a whole helluva lot he can catch Cas up on. So he pulls up to the lake, kills Baby’s engine and just… wants? Wishes.

Asks.

“…Cas?”

But Cas doesn’t appear in the passenger’s seat. And he doesn’t show up in the back. And the more Dean waits—he can wait, he’s good at that—the clearer it becomes that there’s no one coming. Maybe their signal got jammed. Maybe there’s no praying in Heaven. Hell, maybe Cas is too important to come down and hang out—maybe he’s not allowed. Whatever the reason, it hits Dean all at once.

Grief. Loss. Anger and heartbreak and fucking despair, because no matter how hard they fight, no matter how many times they save the goddamn world, peace doesn’t apply to them. Dean shoves Baby’s door open and stumbles towards the dock. He ends up on his knees, tripping over his own feet, vision blurred and breath tight around the lump in his throat. He pounds his fists into the wooden boards. His chest is gonna collapse onto itself; he’s a dying star and he knows it’s impossible, he knows he’s already dead but this is it this is all there is it’s crushing him—

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean moves before he understands what the fuck is even happening.

He falters at the last second—skids to a stop with less than a foot between them, eyes wide and heaving laboured breaths like he’s run a marathon. “Cas,” he breathes. His hand drifts up and brushes Cas’s arm, his fingers. “Are you…? I mean, Cas—I—you—”

Cas looks… almost the same. Same hair and baby blues. Same godawful coat and tie. But there’s something tense in shoulders—something prickling at his eyes. He’s stock still in a way he hasn’t been in years. “What—” he shakes his head. Frowns at the ground. Collects himself. “What—ah, happened? Where’s Sam?”

“Safe,” Dean says.

“Dean—”

Dean doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous before, but in the wake of I loved the whole world because of you, grabbing Cas’s hand pales in comparison. His heart is bruising itself with how hard it’s beating against his ribs, his palm sweating as he grasps Castiel’s fingers, mouth dry as he tugs him close. Since when have they ever done personal space?

“I prayed to you,” he says hoarsely.

“I wanted to fix this first. Heaven—I didn’t want to come back empty-handed.” Dean goes for broke and holds his hand. Cas’s eyes widen. “Not just for you,” Castiel rushes to say. “For me, too. I needed… I needed to—”

The look on his face when Dean presses a finger to his lips would be hilarious if Dean wasn’t sure he was gonna puke. His hand drifts to touch the curve of Cas’s cheekbone and the line of his jaw. He’s shameless. Unapologetic. Cas sways closer and he’s warm and solid and alive.

“You’re a moron,” Dean breathes, because what he actually wants to say is gumming up throat as it always has.

Cas prickles like an offended, disgruntled bird and he’s the most gorgeous thing Dean’s ever seen. “I—”

He kisses him.

It’s dry and quick and chaste, pressed to the corner of his mouth, but it’s a kiss. A real kiss. And it’s like once he’s started, Dean can’t stop. He pulls back enough to meet Cas’s eyes before allowing himself to move forward again, and by the time their mouths brush Cas is holding so tightly to Dean’s wrists it feels like they’re gonna bruise. The next kiss is an impression of one; soft and barely there—exploration, permission, promise. Cas’s brows are furrowed and he chases when they drift apart, catching him in something more solid. Intentional. All at once, he moves to wrap his arms around Dean’s waist, holding gripping clutching as Dean’s hands cup stubbled cheeks and bury in dark hair and move over the breadth of his shoulders. Cas is here. Cas is here. And they’re—they’re finally—

Dean wrenches away only to throw himself at Castiel in a hug, face buried into his neck. Cas’s hand presses to his back and Dean shivers. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Dean,” Cas murmurs.

Dean breathes shaky against his skin and nods. Presses his mouth there just because he can. “I fucking love you, Castiel,” he says, and it’s an argument wrapped in fear and self-loathing but it’s out, he’s said it, and Cas only holds him all the tighter for it. Shifts a little. Pulls back so Dean lifts his head and can be more easily kissed. He swipes his tongue over Dean’s bottom lip and he opens for him, guides him when Cas falters, overwhelmed.

“Dean,” Cas breathes, like his name’s a benediction, a prayer. Like he can’t say anything else. “Dean—”

Dean huffs a laugh. Nods. Stumbles back towards the Impala and tugs Cas along with him. The guy’s like a celestial octopus, and they trip over each other’s feet until they’re pressed up against the passenger door, kissing deep and wet and lazy, and this is it, right here. Cas. Baby. Sam safe and sound and alive.

This is Heaven.

[chevrolangels]

for @woefulcas, based off her very excellent text post

spn writers hire me

When the Empty first came, first sucked the big bad Castiel into its rotten depths—it had preened, viciously crowed and gloated in triumph, sneering in his prized captive’s face.

That was thirty hours ago. 

“You know how I knew?” Castiel says wistfully, smiling up at the endless black depths above him. “The first time he smiled at me.” 

The Empty just grunts. 

“I had barely been around humans, barely been on earth,” Castiel continues, sighing. “I’d only ever seen their pain, their anger, their hate—never their joy.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But then—I met Dean.”

The Empty groans, sinking its face in its hands.

“He was so full of love,” Castiel muses, his eyes soft and starry. “I sensed it, right away. Even though he didn’t believe—it poured out of him, more beauty than I had ever seen in Heaven. The Righteous Man. Dean Winchester.”

Castiel beams again, like the very taste of the name is sacred. 

“His very soul radiated with it. From the first moment I touched him, I knew I was lost. Oh, did I tell you I finally told him I loved him?”

“Only about a hundred times,” the Empty mutters.

But Castiel is heedless, a dopey little smile on his face.

“When he laughs, really laughs—he throws his head back, and then he gets these tiny little crinkles around his eyes. Oh, and his eyes. Green like apples. Or spring. And all the lovely freckles all across his nose—”

The Empty’s borrowed eye twitches.

“He has an unhealthy obsession with pie, for a man of his age,” Castiel says stoically. “But it only makes more of him to love. And oh, my. His hands. They’re so caring. He sees them as instruments of destruction—yet he’s so gentle. Every touch from him I’ve savored.” 

“Dude,” the Empty blurts, but Castiel just sighs, smiling.

“And he gives the best hugs.”

With an agonized scream, the Empty stands, yanking up Castiel by his collar.

“Alright, you know what—”

.

Jack chews his lip awkwardly as Sam flips through lore book after lore book.

Dean has retreated into distraught silence, unseeing eyes boring a hole in the wall as he nurses the bottle in his hands.  He hasn’t spoken much since that night.

An ear-splitting roar, and the three of them jump up, staring as the wall of the bunker splits open, black ooze once again crawling forth.

“Alright just TAKE HIM, goddammit!” The Empty yells. “I can’t fucking deal with him anymore—”

It lifts Castiel overhead and yeets him through the gap, roaring in triumphant relief.

“He’s your problem now!”

Laughing maniacally, the Empty retreats back into black nothingness, flipping them off as it disappears, never to be seen again.

.

The end

[cursed-or-not]

 @nesnej said forehead touching and I,,, couldn’t stop thinking about it

Spoilers for 15x18

Dean is driving himself crazy, driving too fast on a back road when he sees it, and his first thought is that he’s already crashed.

He knows this can’t be real, this can’t be him, but then he’s slamming on the brakes anyways. He thinks it’s a trick of the too-bright sunlight, squints against it, but he would know Cas anywhere.

There is his body, covered in a trench coat and silhouetted by sun. There are his hands, still bloodied at his sides and ready to reach out. His face, lit up in the dying light and looking up, always looking up.

Dean knows it can’t be him.

He knows it has to be.

Before he can think about it, the car is in park in the middle of the road and Dean is crossing the distance between them.

From here, Dean can see blue eyes and smile lines and stubble that Dean wants to feel scrape against him.

“Cas.”

It comes out breathless.

Cas. Cas, Cas, Cas—

“Hello, Dean.”

And that’s all that it takes.

Dean’s chest heaves a sob, and suddenly any gap between the two of them is too much. It’s automatic, inevitable, and Dean’s body carries him closer.

Closer, closer still, and Cas is reaching out. Dean doesn’t know how they’ll land— maybe a fierce hug, a crushing kiss— but when they meet, it is all grasping hands and aching smiles.

Cas doesn’t pull Dean in farther, just clings to the front of his shirt like it’s all that’s grounding him, and maybe it is. Dean is crying in earnest now, but his hands are tangled in Cas’ jacket, in his hair, in anything he can hold onto, and eventually, they settle softly on either side of Cas’ face.

Cas bumps Dean’s forehead with his own, and Dean thinks it was meant as a reassurance and the intention wasn’t to stay there, but Dean doesn’t want him to pull away. Dean’s hands slide to the back of Cas’ neck, and Cas pulls Dean closer by his grip on Dean’s shirt.

They stay together, heads bowed and hands gripping. 

“I love you, too.”

The sun casts shadows on the pavement and silhouettes them in light, and here, the road carries on into the horizon.

[huggybearsunshine]

Empty Promises

What if Cas’ deal with the Empty didn’t go how the Angel thought it would?

The silence in the room felt smothering to Cas as he awaited the arrival of the shadow until it began to set in that the entity was, quite clearly, not coming.

What Castiel didn’t understand was why.

“That should’ve worked,” he looked panicked.

“Wait, what is going on, Cas?” Dean’s wet eyes searched in confusion for some answer for the Angel’s actions.

“The empty should be here…” Cas looked around frantically, “Dean, I’m going to get us out of this.”

Dean at a loss for words or any clear understanding could only nod in response.

The door finally gave, swinging open with a horrible, metallic screech.

In a spur of the moment decision, Cas flung his Angel blade toward her. It hit, knocking her back just long enough for her weapon to fall. Long enough for Dean to grab and swing.

That shouldn’t have worked. They should be dead.

I should be gone Cas thought frantically.

“Cas, what the hell is going on?” Dean’s voice questioned him sooner than he was ready for.

“I don’t know, a true moment of happiness was supposed to call the empty forth for me,” Cas spoke downward toward the floor.

“So… what? You tried to trick it…”

Silence settled following the hunter’s question before Cas’ eyes pulled up to Dean’s.

“I’m sorry, Dean…”

The elder Winchester brother shifted slightly awaiting confirmation, looking more affected by the silence with every passing moment, “If it wasn’t a trick, then…”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Stop saying that,” Dean grunted, gripping his fist at his side, “Do you… do you love me? Are you in love with me?”

“I am,” Cas admitted, tears filling his eyes.

“Cas…” Dean reached out but pulled back again, hand instead pushing through his hair.

“I wouldn’t have done that if I hadn’t thought-”

His voice broke off mid-sentence as Dean passed him and left the room. Cas stood there until the sound of his steps had faded away, and then he cried.

Pulling himself together, he pushed forward, meeting the hunter in the war room as he packed some things into a pack.

“Sam needs us,” his eyes bore needfully into the Angel’s.

“Let’s go,” Cas replied, earning a grateful look from the man across from him.

Cas held his stoic expression with practiced ease while he felt a storm inside.

Rejection. He realized.

“Everyone is gone,” Dean spoke as they approached the mill, eyes wide and overwhelmed.

“We’ll find a way, Dean,” Cas clasped his shoulder supportively, wondering if it was still okay to do.

He was met with grateful eyes yet again so he decided things must not be completely ruined.

The four met in between the mill and the impala.

“What do we do, Dean?” Sam asked desperately.

“Let’s get back to the bunker and we’ll figure it out,” he hooked a hand around the other hunter’s neck and looked at him as if scanning for any visable damage.

The younger Winchester nodded at him to assure him he was fine and the four of them piled into the car.

Cas noticed that Dean’s eyes found him in the mirror more than usual, and it put him on edge, but he bore it until they were back home.

“Okay, Sammy, summon Rowena,” Dean instructed, “Jack, pull any book that looks useful at all- start us a pile.”

“Yes okay, Dean,” the nephilim nodded before darting off.

“And you,” Dean turned toward Cas, eyes everywhere at once, “Sigil the fuck out of this place.”

“Yes, Dean,” and he did.

The three of them sans Cas read furiously for something that could help when they heard the familiar pop.

“Hello, Boys.”

“Rowena,” Sam looked up hopefully.

“Needing my help again so soon,” she smirked, “Thought you’d at least last the year…”

“Rowena, everyone’s gone,” Dean implored.

“Not the Angel too,” her face dropped.

“No, I’m still here for some reason,” Cas interjected as he approached the library, earning a confused look from Sam that Dean seemed hyper aware of.

“Well, good news there, but I’m not sure what I could do against God…” she stopped at the look on the boys’ faces, “We’ll throw everything we have at him.”

Three hours later, they had a plan to summon a reaper and make their own death as well as a spell that would super charge Jack and potentially Cas if he has enough juice to charge.

It wasn’t without danger to Cas, and Dean looked very uncomfortable with this.

“I’ll get the supplies,” Dean offered, bumping Cas with his shoulder, “Come with me…”

The two slipped away without much show of it and walked silently shoulder to shoulder.

“I don’t want you to do this,” the hunter voiced quietly.

“It’s an important part of the plan,” Cas countered, “At full power, I could be more useful to you-”

“You don’t have to be useful,” Dean stopped, clearly frustrated by Cas’ response, “You’re important cause you’re you, not because of what you can do for us. I need you to know that.”

Cas’ head tilted in confusion.

“You keep sacrificing yourself for the ‘greater good’ but you are not expendable, Cas,” Dean’s fists clenched, “You’re just not.”

“Dean, I… I can’t promise you what you want to hear because if it comes down to my life or yours… I will always make the same choice,” Cas’ face was unmovable.

“Why?” Dean huffed.

“I told you why.”

“I…” Dean looked away, starting to walk again which Cas followed willingly alongside, “I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s alright that you don’t feel the same way, Dean-”

“No, I don’t know what to say, Cas…”

“What do you..?” the Angel looked at him uncertainly.

“I thought I would know… I would’ve thought the answer’d be ‘I don’t feel the same, I’m sorry,’ but you said it, and I… didn’t know how that felt…” Dean explained before they reached the first storage room to search, “I don’t have an answer for you yet because I don’t know how I feel… but I didn’t want you going into all this thinking I didn’t even care enough to talk about it, cause I definitely feel that.”

“Thank you, Dean,” is all Cas can come up with to say in response before the two started their search.

[dothwrites]

15.18 coda--the best of things

The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

---

There’s something. 

This is significant because, for as long as Castiel can remember, there’s been nothing. 

The Empty alternates between shoving him forcefully into sleep and yanking him out of it, just so he can experience the full horrors of wakefulness. He wanders and doesn’t know if he’s walking, screams and listens as his cries are swallowed by the darkness. He pulls at his hair just to feel, but even that bright pain is muted. 

I want you to suffer, the Empty had warned, and so far, it’s lived up to its promise. No, he doesn’t regret anything, he’d make the same decisions time and again, as long as they led him here, but he can’t deny that he is suffering. 

It would be better if he could somehow quench the little gutter of light and warmth that still resounds in his chest, but he can never quite manage to do so. Somehow, it still beats, giving him purpose, allowing him to set his compass by its enduring beat. 

And somehow, impossibly, there’s finally something for it to latch onto. 

Castiel walks forward, feeling the sensation of movement for the first time since he can’t remember when. His steps quicken as he runs towards the something, towards something that he almost forgot. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, how many centuries have passed. Time ceased to have meaning a long time ago, and in between bouts of sleeping and waking, Castiel forgot the knack of telling it. Now, he remembers, along with other long forgotten concepts such as fatigue and hope. 

His long neglected heart beats then, violently, with enough force to send him staggering. Castiel runs faster. 

If he were human, if this were earth, then the breath would be tearing out of his lungs. As it is, he feels a ripping in his chest, like he’s shredding apart from the inside out. He feels like a piece of paper torn in half, and he doesn’t know how much of him will be left by the end, but he continues to sprint forward. 

There’s something up ahead. 

A faint golden glimmer, a thread of hope so slender that if he thinks about it too long then he’ll shatter. It twists and turns in front of him, so far in the distance as to almost be a mirage. 

But for once, there is distance. 

Castiel forces his legs to keep moving, even as the pain claws through his chest, ripping into his very essence. Every step brings him the worst pain he’s ever known, but he doesn’t dare to stop. He keeps his eyes fixed on the golden line, now guttering as though it’s struggling to survive. With every step, memories flood back to him. 

The scent of coffee in the mornings when he would start a fresh pot before Dean and Sam awoke. 

The smell of leather and gasoline as he sat in Baby’s backseat. 

The feel of blood and grit underneath his fingernails. 

The salt and butter molecules of popcorn exploding across his tongue as he watches yet another inane movie starring a young Harrison Ford. 

The clear sound of Charlie Bradbury’s laughter. 

The whiff of sulfur that followed Meg, the crisp ozone of Hannah, the tang of what he was informed was an ‘84 and not 19, you have no taste, Cassie, by Balthazar. 

The rough flannel of Bobby Singer’s shirt. 

The whisper of Eileen’s fingers moving through 

The fragile strength of Jack, warm through his jacket as Castiel hugged him for the last time. 

The warmth of Sam’s arm slung around his shoulders, the steadiness of him, the unwavering loyalty, the brightness of his smile and joy of his friendship. 

Dean. 

Dean. 

Dean. 

Breath finally tears out of him as he sprints, pushing legs which refuse to move faster to fly. The golden tear glows in front of him, the only bright thing in an eternity of nothing. He has to reach it. He has to. 

A scream rips out of his chest as he stumbles his way forward. By now the pain is almost overwhelming, obliterating everything else except the most basic desire for survival, but he can’t give up, he can’t, he can’t--

Even in Hell, Dean’s soul glowed like a beacon, even when he lost hope he was still the most beautiful thing Castiel had ever seen. The smoke and whiskey smell of him, the strength and gentleness of his hands, the rumble of his laugh, the rasp and growl of his voice, the careful way he handled delicate things, the light in his eyes as he would look at Sam and Jack, the sheer love he’d seen shining out of his soul--

With a desperate cry, Castiel launches himself forward, straining towards the beautiful golden tear. 

His hand goes through the rip in the world and for a second, there’s nothing, nothing, nothing--

Strong fingers grab his wrist and pull. 

It feels like being tugged through quicksand, the Empty finally realizing that something is wrong and seizing onto him. Darkness covers him, and Castiel can’t see anything, can’t scream, can’t hear. All he knows is the strength of the grip around his hand, the fierce flare of hope in his chest even amidst the ripping pain. 

No, he thinks, with all the force left to him, no, I want--

Something finally bursts in his chest, and he thinks he screams, though he doesn’t hear any sound leave his mouth. Instead, he’s pulled, shredded, torn apart, eviscerated, and then, and then--

There’s light and sound and sensation and touch and smell and taste and a thousand different things like gravity and mass and body and Castiel can only gasp, helpless as a newborn as his sightless eyes blink through all the light. 

He’s shivering, cold and aching, and he’s never felt this kind of pain before, but it’s glorious. He wouldn’t give up feeling like this for anything, the sunburst of agony flaring through his body as he tries to sort through his senses to try and understand where he is. 

Something warm and soft settles over his shoulders and it’s then that Castiel becomes aware of his body, down to his toes and fingers and the tip of his nose. Naked, he thinks, somewhat innocuously, that’s why i was cold. 

Then the larger realization comes, which is, if he was naked, that means that he has a body to be unclothed. 

With a final blink, sight returns, though it’s unreliable. Smears of color appear and disappear from his vision, too quickly for him to hope to make sense of them. Sound returns, in deep rumbles like he’s underwater. Stop, he tries to say, let me just wait a second, but his voice doesn’t seem to work. He opens his mouth and all that emerges is a pathetic sounding croak. 

Syllables garble above him and then something cool and hard is pressed to his mouth. Cold and wet explodes over his lips and tongue, and Castiel thinks Water. 

It’s never tasted this good before. 

He gulps greedily until the glass is taken from him. He whines, wanting more, but his wordless request is denied. Touch explodes over his cheeks, his neck, and shoulders, and Castiel struggles to make sense of it. He would like to rest in the comfort of those hands, but they’re gone before he can process their being there at all. 

The sound coalesces into a single word, and Cas blinks, stupefied. He knows that word. More importantly, he knows that voice. 

He tries to force his rusted voice to work, but only a low croak comes out. Frustrated, he licks his lips and tries again, putting all of his force into the word. 

“Dean?” 

Touch returns to his cheeks and this time, it stays. He blinks again, and the haze in front of his eyes clears, and he can finally see that face, familiar and beloved. 

“Dean?” he asks, sure that he must be dreaming, even though the Empty never allowed him to do so. Perhaps this is a hallucination, a cruel manifestation of his hopes, perhaps he’s still there, in all that nothing, and this is no more than a dream--

“Cas, stay with me,” Dean says, his voice urgent and worried. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” His voice breaks on the last repetition and warmth envelops Castiel. 

A hug. Dean is hugging him, somewhat fiercely, if the lack of air in his lungs is to be trusted. 

Castiel blinks, surprised. He’s never needed air before. Come to think of it, he’s never needed water either. 

He shifts underneath the blanket, careful not to dislodge Dean’s arms from around his body. His palm presses flat against his chest. Underneath it, he can feel his heart, beating steady and strong. 

“Human?” he asks, blinking in wonder. 

Dean’s arms release him, though they take a long time to do so, as though he’s regretful. “Yeah,” he says. Castiel’s eyes aren’t working well enough to pick out the intricacies of his facial expression, but he thinks he sees guilt in the depths of Dean’s eyes. 

“It was the only way to get you out. Sam found the spell and Jack powered it up, and I...” It’s then that Castiel comes aware that one of Dean’s hands is bleeding, is leaving smears of red across the blanket and the skin. “I did what I had to do, but there was a catch.” Dean’s breath hitches for a moment before he looks back at Castiel. “You see, we looked into it, and it turns out that the Empty only cares about angels and demons. Humans, it doesn’t have any power over. So in order to get you out--”

“Human,” Castiel repeats, his mind working through the problem. It’s an elegant solution in its simplicity. The ripping and tearing makes sense, as does the pain. 

Anna described tearing out her grace as the worst pain she’d ever felt, like digging a kidney out with a spoon. Castiel understands. His whole body aches with the memory, muscles screaming for rest, his stomach for sustenance, and his nerves for peace. He doesn’t want to sleep; there’s been too much of that. But he does want to rest. 

“Dean.” Castiel pauses to let the word sit on his tongue, to feel the weight of it. It feels as good as it ever did. 

“Yeah, Cas?” 

Castiel could get lost in Dean’s eyes. Have they always been that green? Have those crow’s feet always bracketed them, like lines on a map, proof of a life well lived? 

“Home?” Castiel finally asks, once he realizes that Dean is waiting for an answer. “Can we go home?” 

Dean’s face splits in a smile, kinder than the dawn and brighter than the sun. “Yeah,” he says, though he makes no effort to move. “Yeah, Cas, we can go home.” 

Castiel tilts his head, wondering why Dean doesn’t move. Instead, he looks like he’s working himself up towards something. His teeth bite at his lower lip, while his eyes dart to either side of Castiel, like they can’t bear to land on his face. An unwelcome spike of fear lances at Castiel’s chest. 

“Dean,” he begins, but a harsh movement stops him. 

“I gotta say this,” Dean says, his voice rough. “What you said, before you were...” He swallows before he finally looks at Cas, his eyes brimming over with tears. “I haven’t been able to sleep in a year because all I could think was that I never had a chance to say it back to you.”

Hope flares and bursts in Castiel’s heart. A happiness so bright it’s searing tears through him, and this time, he can feel it, he can feel it all, he can have it--

“I love you,” Dean says, his unbloodied hand resting on Castiel’s cheek. “I love everything about you, you stupid bastard, and don’t you ever, ever try and leave me again, don’t you ever, you’d better die after me because I’m going to stick with you until we’re old and gross and creaky and we’re going to have to figure out how to have old people sex with all my fake joints and--” 

“Sex?” Castiel’s brain might not be working fast enough to pick up on every word Dean says, but he’s aware enough for that. 

Dean blushes, the tips of his ears turning red. “Yeah. I mean. If you wanted. And if you didn’t want, that’s fine, because i know you said once that angels didn’t--”

“I’d very much like to have sex with you,” Castiel interrupts, because even in his state, he can see when Dean is trying to work himself into a hole. “But not right now.” Exhaustion hits him like a wave, dragging him under and only reluctantly giving him up. He looks up at Dean, finally allowing himself to be weak, allowing Dean to step in and take care of him. “Home?” he repeats, wanting nothing more than to sink into Dean’s bed and rest. 

“Yeah, Cas. Let’s go home.” Dean shifts, but doesn’t move, and Castiel is just about to complain about the lack of progress on the home front when Dean leans forward. His eyes are determined, his lips slightly parted, his hand trembling where it rests on Castiel’s cheek. Fireworks and galaxies explode in Castiel when he realizes Dean’s intentions. 

He’s lived through several ice ages, through meteors and wars, through life and death and rebirth. He’s seen the formation of planets and constellations, seen entire solar systems collapse into themselves only to birth a new sun. 

But he’s never seen or felt anything as wondrous as the first touch of Dean’s lips on his. 

The kiss is soft, barely pressure, but it feels like everything. It feels like a promise and a wish. It feels like a homecoming. 

It feels like a beginning. 

---

Remember, Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.― Stephen King

A star falls from the sky and into your hands. Then it seeps through your veins and swims inside your blood and becomes every part of you. And then you have to put it back into the sky. And it's the most painful thing you'll ever have to do and that you've ever done. But what's yours is yours. Whether it’s up in the sky or here in your hands. And one day, it'll fall from the sky and hit you in the head real hard and that time, you won't have to put it back in the sky again.― C. JoyBell C.

[pray4jensen]

Because it is

deancas coda, 6k, 15.18 (or a coda where Dean and Cas reunite and it has a very happy ending because I’m sappy) 

Why does this sound like a goodbye?

Because it is.

.

It’s Sam who finds him. It’s Sam who hits the ground knees first and clutches his brother’s face, who finds Dean trembling, who looks at Dean with such terror in his eyes, because maybe he’s never seen his brother like this, never seen Dean so broken.

“What happened?” Sam asks, urges him with every fibre of his being, white-knuckled grip around his brother’s shoulders, but Dean’s lips won’t move, can’t move, even as Sam begs him.

Instead, all that comes out is a shaky breath. All that comes out is one last sob, something empty and unfinished, something that doesn’t do justice to fill the void in Dean’s chest, and then, voice breaking, Dean finally answers.

“Cas,” he says and it’s as if the world pitches itself into darkness and he covers his face with his hands again and tries to forget that he exists.

.

They reap God.

They do it because Dean’s fury knows no bounds. They do it because Dean won’t stand it, can’t stand it, won’t let the world end, won’t let Cas go because that stupid selfish bastard can’t just keep leaving Dean like that (hasn’t he told him that enough times?).

But God laughs. God sees the spark of defiance in Dean’s eyes, sees that flaring anger and all of its power, and he still laughs and he laughs and he laughs.

“You think you’re going to save him?” Chuck sneers, grinning cruelly even as Dean breaks him apart with Death’s scythe. “Bring him back? Please. Nothing comes back from the Empty, Dean. Not anymore. I’ve snapped away all the angels, all the demons, your nephilim. All my children. The Empty’s gone to sleep and it won’t ever wake up again because your one disobedient little angel is finally locked away.

“This my story,” Chuck says even as his body turns to dust, even as his voice withers with it. “And I wrote a horror story.”

.

Maybe they’re expecting the universe to collapse, to turn itself inside and out now that its balancing forces are gone. But the world doesn’t do that. The world keeps spinning, devoid of life, inhabited solely by two brothers who grieve.

The world is empty, Dean thinks, so why isn’t Cas here?

.

Dean starts dreaming. The rare instances when his eyes close, when he’s too tired to keep reading, when the tomes he finds in the library are too heavy in his hands, and when he can’t find a single word, not even one goddamned measly word that could be a clue about the Empty—at some point during those times, his eyes close and he dreams.

You changed me, Cas tells him each night, smiling through tears and every part of Dean’s body aches, every part of him wants and he pleads with himself to say something, to tell Cas to stay, to beg him not to go. He tries to move his arms, tries to hold him, tries to cradle Cas’ face in his hands, wipe the tears away from his cheeks, but maybe God isn’t really dead.

Because no matter what Dean does, no matter how much he wants to, he stands in the scene as before, unmoving, breathless, a memory.

Cas always says, Goodbye, Dean, and the smile he gives him breaks Dean into pieces and pieces.

read the rest on AO3 here

[destielle]

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