#spn fix it fanfiction

[zepskies]

Dream With Me - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized!Reader (Latina)

Summary: When your asshole ex-boyfriend calls for help on a case, you have a tough decision to make. But Dean isn’t going to let you do anything alone. AKA: The last hunt you, Sam, and Dean will ever go on together.

[Set in 15x20]

AN: Yes, that barn scene. 🫣

(In case you missed it, here's Part 1.)

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: Protective Dean (and angry Dean), blood and violence, angst, and a big twist…

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: “We Can Fix This”

The vampires leave you and Carter alone after a while.

You two are the convenient bait, literally chained to your chairs. You’re so irate, you can’t even look at him. His head hangs low, with his chin nearly meeting his chest.

“I’m sorry I got you into this,” he says again. 

“I don’t care,” you flatly reply. 

Carter grimaces. “I didn’t know any other way to get them here. I figured the three of you could hold your own.”

At that, you finally turn your head towards him. 

“But you sold out your own. You sold me out,” you say. “What kind of man are you?”

Not the one you thought, is the answer. 

The problem is, you still need him if you're going to get out of this.

Once you’re able to see past your anger, you two begin to brainstorm on how to escape your restraints. Carter has been working on his for much longer than yours, but his hands are still too large to slip through the thick ropes. Your ankles are tied to the chair as well.

You turn your chair backwards towards him, careful to not let the chair’s legs scrape too badly against the ground. You’re forced to touch hands with him in order to slide him the small knife you hide in the sleeve of your jacket. 

It takes several minutes of quiet sawing, but after a while, he’s finally able to free his hands, then more quickly his legs. He’s about to start on you when you both hear footsteps drawing near the stairs. You and Carter lock eyes. 

“Don’t leave me here,” you whisper instinctively. Carter puts the little knife back into your hand and closes your hand over it. Right about now, you wish you could reach his neck with it.  

“We can’t take them all. I’ll get help,” he says.

You suck in a breath as you realize it. He really is about to leave you. 

“They need you alive as bait more than they need me. You’ll be fine,” he says.

“Carter, you dick,” you hiss. Tears sting behind your eyes, but you blink to try and keep them at bay. You’ll never admit it, but your fear of fangs and the clammy, undead hands of vampires runs deep.

Carter sees your fear, and he can’t help himself; he frames your face with his hands for a quick second, despite the way you glare at him and pull your head away, trying to evade his touch. His eyes hide the depths of his regret, but he doesn’t have time to say anything more.

He leaves you, ducking out the back entrance to the barn that leads into the woods.

“What’s going on?” Jenny says, as she comes down the stairs. Her face falls when she sees Carter’s empty chair. 

“What the hell?!” she shouts. Two of the men in her nest come running out to meet her. She gives one of them an order to run after Carter. 

Her attention snaps to you. “I’m guessing you helped your boyfriend escape?”

You don’t answer her at first as she draws near, but inside, you’re trembling a bit. You have an idea of what’s coming. Nevertheless, you try to remain stoic. Strong.

“Not my boyfriend,” you reply. Jenny cocks her head.

“Oh, that’s right. He betrayed you, and now he's left you in the hands of monsters,” she says. She holds her hands on her hips. “You must be the most gullible woman in the world.”

Your lips thin into a line. “Or you’re just stupid enough to leave a couple of hunters alone. You better damn hope he doesn’t find Sam and Dean. Even when they don’t know what’s coming, they should be the stuff of your nightmares. But when they’re prepared?”

You lick your dry lips and give Jenny a grim smile, with more confidence than you actually feel.

“Say goodbye to your family,” you say.

After a beat, Jenny smiles tightly and grabs your face. Her nails bite into your cheeks and make you wince.  

“All right, Nate. You can have a taste,” she says.

She steps to the side as one of the larger backup dancers in her little entourage draws near. Jenny wrenches your head back by your hair, so he can lean in and bite into your neck. Your scream reverberates on the barn walls.

Sam and Dean left the car parked closer to the main road. They’re prepared for anything as they trek through the woods, with silver bullets in their guns and machetes strapped to their belts, along with witch killing bullets in their pockets for good measure. 

Sam has pinpointed not just an estimate of your location, but also those coordinates as a few minutes away by foot. With their long strides, they can hopefully reach you soon.

“Wait,” Dean says, stopping his brother with a hand on his arm. “I hear something coming.”

Sam hears it too. Quick footsteps running on the crunch of dead leaves.

Carter comes stumbling from between the trees, out of breath, but still on the run while another man gains on him. When Carter sees Sam and Dean, his eyes widen with recognition. 

“Vampires!” he shouts at them. 

The brothers immediately switch from guns to the machetes on their belts. Dean reaches the vampire first, but he ducks the initial swing of Dean’s blade. It’s a quick scuffle, in which Sam manages to behead the creature. Blood sprays across Sam’s chest as the body falls to the ground.

Dean’s angry gaze shifts to Carter, who’s catching his breath. Dean doesn’t give him a chance to recover when he grabs the man by his collar. He pins him up to the nearest tree, hard, and holds his blade up to Carter’s neck, even though the man raises his hands in surrender.

“All right, all right!” Carter exlaims.

“Where is she?” Dean demands.

“A nest of vamps, in a barn up and over the hill. They took her, they’ve got her,” Carter says.

Dean wars between processing that, and becoming fucking furious.

“You left her there?!” he growls. Sam’s face furrows as well in anger, though he watches his brother out of the corner of his eye.

“Just let me explain!” Carter says. 

Dean tightens the edge of his machete against the other man’s throat.

“Talk fast,” he warns.

“They’re waiting for you and Sam,” Carter says. “They nabbed me on account of you two assholes. That’s why they took her, so you’d have to come to them.”

Dean’s jaw locks. He glances at Sam, who’s just as angry as him. He’s just better at keeping a handle on it.

“So wait, lemme get this straight,” Dean says, as he continues to put the pieces together in his mind. He tips the end of the machete towards Carter’s chest. “They grabbed you up. So you called her, brought her into this, to save your own damn skin?”

Carter sighs harshly. 

“Look, I know I’m going to hell. But the longer we stand around here waiting for you to do mental math, the longer they’ve got her alone,” he says. “I managed to get free, but I didn’t have time to get her out with me. So I left to find you.”

Dean's anger burns under his skin, but he lets Carter off the tree, just to turn him around and point the machete at his back. It’s reminiscent of years past, when a far darker blade used to fit all too well in Dean's right hand. 

“Walk,” he barks the order. “Any twitchy moves, and my Christmas comes early.”

You've slipped in and out of consciousness, but finally you garner the strength to blink your eyes awake. Jenny had been watching you up until a few minutes ago, giving you reprieve when she went into the back room to join her nest. 

You heave a shaky sigh and wince at the pain emanating from your neck. You have a gaping bite wound that still oozes blood with every infinitesimal movement of your head. 

Fuck. You really hate vampires. 

You won’t bleed out, probably, but the situation isn’t good. You have no idea if Carter will come back, or if Sam and Dean even know how to find you. 

You try to remember that they’re masters at the impossible, and this is certainly not the biggest challenge you three have ever faced. Hell, if you could survive getting dusted by God, then you can survive a nest of flea-bitten vamps.

Wincing with strain, you try to twist your wrists under this rope so you can start sawing at it with your little knife. All the while, your thoughts inevitably bring you back to Dean.

You regret snapping at him. Because his instincts were right, yet again. You had trusted Carter the slightest bit, and he’d proved to you, yet again, that he's an even bigger piece of shit than you took him for. 

A door quietly creaks open, and you’re able to turn your head in that direction. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see Sam and Dean. Your breath escapes you.

And that’s when Dean’s eyes lock on you. He hastens over to you first, with Sam following right behind. Carter comes in after them, but all you can focus on is Dean. There’s relief written across his furrowed face when he kneels beside you and immediately starts cutting at the ropes that bind your hands with his machete. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, rushed, but purposeful when he meets your gaze.  

“Hey,” you whisper back, with a hint of a smile, despite your eyes that shine with both relief and unshed tears.

“You okay?” he asks gruffly. 

“Yeah,” you reply, even if you don’t entirely mean it.

Dean touches your cheek and wipes a tear there. He then tilts his head to take a better look at the glaring bite on your neck. He grimaces and lets out an angry exhale, his jaw clenching, but he finishes cutting through the ropes. 

When your hands are finally free, you hiss in relief, rubbing some of the sting out of them. It allows you to reach for his face and bring him in for a quick, but hard kiss. And then another for good measure.

Dean accepts them, briefly savoring them with his eyes closed, but he has to shift his attention as he starts on the ropes around your ankles next. 

Neither of you notice the way Carter looks away from the scene. He feels out of place, and even hides a thread of jealousy deep down. 

Meanwhile, Sam keeps watch with his machete at the ready. He gestures at Carter to keep an eye on the stairs leading to the second floor while he watches the door to the back room. 

When you’re completely free, Dean helps you stand. He steadies you with an arm around your waist when you sway a bit on your feet. You’ve lost enough blood that it’s a problem, but you assure him wordlessly that you just need a moment. Then, you give him a nod, and he starts to move with you towards the door. 

But danger comes—just not from upstairs or the back room.

The vampires swarm in from both entrances to the barn. 

A fight ensues, in which Dean’s top priority is keeping you safe, and yours is making sure his blind spots are covered. Your main problem is that you don’t have a weapon, and neither does Carter. He eventually gets beat down, while Sam and Dean are also overpowered, and you’re all but thrown to the ground.

Jenny comes in right as Carter and Dean are pinned down beside one another by three vampires.

“Wait…I know you,” Dean realizes. It takes him another moment, but soon he’s able to connect the familiar face with a name.

“Jenny.” The name falls from his lips in wonder. It’s been fifteen years, but he almost never forgets a face. He smirks, giving a cocky look to the vampires holding him down.

“We tried to kill each other back in the day. Ain’t that a bitch?”

“That’s all you remember?” Jenny asks, raising a brow. “Do you remember Luther and Kate?”

Dean has to wrack his brain, but it does trigger a memory of how his dad shot Luther, a centuries’ old vampire, with the Colt.

“Well, if I remember right, we left Kate alive,” he says, maintaining a cocky quirk of his brow. “Eh, bit sloppy, but we were young. What’re ya gonna do?”

He notices you on the ground behind Kate. You’re inching towards a scythe from the collection of rusty farming equipment that spans each corner of the barn. Slowly, your hand wraps around the farming tool.

Jenny’s face becomes grim, and even colored with pain.

“Yeah, well, Kate got reckless. It wasn’t long before another hunter found us. She saved me,” she says. “But because of you, she lost the only man she ever loved. And I lost my sister.”

Jenny smiles, and it’s all fangs.

“So today, I get dibs.”

With a short yell of strain, you heft the heavy scythe and behead Jenny.

The distraction gives Sam an opening to get ahold of his own dropped machete. He beheads one of the vampires that’s holding Dean. He and Carter are then able to break free of the other two in order to keep fighting.

However, Nate, the vampire that bit you, is drawn to your scent—to the blood from your open wound. He sniffs the air, and his gaze finds you with a smirk. 

He grabs your scythe, and with a force that stuns you, he twists it out of your grip and backhands you hard. You cry out and stumble to the ground. Before he can take advantage of it, Dean grabs the vampire’s arm and punches him. 

Nate grapples with him, his larger frame and enhanced strength allowing him to push Dean back. The two are headed for a large wooden support beam. As you pick yourself up from the floor, you think you see something protruding from the beam. It sends up a flare in your subconscious. 

So when Nate starts bulldozing Dean back like a linebacker, you use what strength you have to charge at the vampire. Your body collides with his side, and the two of you crash onto the dusty ground. 

Dean falls hard against the beam, but he trips back at a lower angle. He cracks his head against the wood and slides down to the ground onto his seat. He’s winded, probably half-concussed, but when he looks up and over his shoulder, he sees a long piece of rebar sticking out of the beam. He just barely missed it.  

Well, fuck me, he thinks. 

Nate elbows you off of him and knocks you onto the ground, where he grabs your hair and yanks your head to the side. You wince in pain as you struggle and push against his chest, but it’s no use. He’s got you pinned. His fangs descend.

Until Dean takes hold of him by the shoulders and bodily hefts him off of you. It gives you a chance to breathe and scramble to your feet. Nate punches Dean solidly across his face, keeping him occupied. 

You look around for any weapon you can use. You see a flash of silver on the ground a few feet away, and you realize it’s Dean’s forgotten machete. You attempt to get by the vampire to grab it, but Nate catches you with the edge of his backhand. 

You stumble, though you don’t entirely go down as you try to catch your breath. While Dean is trying to hold him back by his arm, Nate kicks you in the side, sending you crashing toward what looks like an old weedwhacker. Except, it’s mostly made of metal.

You fall onto it hard.

Meanwhile, Dean finally sees the machete he dropped. He picks it up and gives an instinctive, powerful swing. It decapitates Nate, and the large body falls to the ground with a heavy thump.

Dean heaves for breath afterward. He looks over and sees that Sam and Carter have finished up with the others. 

Dean turns back to find you, and he notices that you’re still sprawled out against some farming tools. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asks. He goes to you and grabs your arm to help you up, but you stop him with a hiss. 

“Wait, wait, Dean,” you raise a hand at him.

You look up at him with panic in your eyes. You have a white-knuckle grip on an iron handle.

When you try to push your body up, Dean realizes, with no small amount of horror, that you’re stuck.

You’ve fallen straight onto a rusty, circular blade. 

Dean immediately lowers to his knees beside you. His hand grips your shoulder. 

“Oh, God,” you utter. “I can’t move.”

Dean takes maybe half a beat, before his brain kicks into high gear. 

“Sam!” he barks. 

Hearing the urgency in his brother’s voice, Sam rushes over on your other side. His eyes are wide when he realizes what’s happening, but he meets Dean’s steely gaze.

Together they maneuver the saw in such a way that it allows you to raise up to your knees, despite your whimpers of pain. Already small streams of blood fall from your body and down the side of the blade.

Sam and Dean share a knowing look. They really shouldn’t take out the blade until they get you to a hospital, but this tool is too damn big. There’s no way to stabilize you.

“Okay, it’s okay…we’re gonna have to take this out so we can get you to the car,” Dean says, rubbing a hand over his mouth. It’s a nervous tick you know well. You nod in agreement, even though you know this is about to hurt like fucking hell.

Sam braces you from behind, while Dean takes the saw by the handle and carefully takes the blade out of your side. Your scream echoes horribly in the barn, making his jaw lock and his body tense up even more, but he carries through with his task. Once the blade is free, Dean tosses it away. 

Sam lays you down and takes off his jacket and his outer layer of plaid, as does Dean. One of the shirts is bundled like packing, to press against your gaping wound, while the other flannel is used to keep it all tied tightly around your waist. It’s white-hot agony all throughout the process, and you definitely black out for a few moments, your eyelids fluttering shut.

When you do come to, you try your best to contain your pain—and work through the way your head is swimming toward falling into shock. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. We gotcha,” Dean murmurs. His hands work as quickly as possible while trying not to do more damage to your body.

All the while, Carter watches in worry. 

Once you’re as wrapped up and stabilized as you can be, you, Sam, and Dean realize that both flannels are slowly being soaked with your blood. Dean wastes no time in positioning you in his arms. Sam helps him raise you off the ground, but Dean takes you fully and starts to carry you out of the barn. Sam opens the door for him and follows Dean’s lead, with Carter in tow.

You manage to raise your head enough to look up at Dean. He looks down on you, noting that your normally tan face is already far too pale. And still, the right side of your neck is bloody and raw. 

“You’re really gonna carry me all the way to the car?” you ask weakly. 

“You got a problem with that?” Dean retorts, with an attempt at a smile. 

His voice is steady, but you see everything in his eyes. You see the depths of his worry, and his fear. For once, you don’t know how to soothe him. You grab onto the front of his black undershirt and rest your head against his chest, just trying to keep your eyes open. 

“You’re gonna be fine, baby,” he says. “We can fix this. Just stay with me, okay?”

You feel his lips press a quick kiss to your forehead.

You try your best to believe him. 

AN: ...Well, sort of "fixed" it?

I know, I know, I'm sorry. 🫣 But trust me, we're not done yet...

Next Time:

Dean’s heartbeat pounds in his ears.

By the time the four of you reach the Impala, you’re in a cold sweat, pale, and barely conscious. Dean unlocks the car and carefully seats you on one side of the backseat, while Sam hurries to the other side. He then helps guide you in as Dean maneuvers you into laying across the backseat. Sam’s going to stay with you for the ride to the hospital.   

“Watch her head,” Dean warns, his tone sharp. 

“I got her,” Sam assures. He holds you securely against his chest, with your head tucked under his chin.

Dean lets out an unsteady breath. When he turns around, Carter’s standing too close, peering at you anxiously. 

“Get her to a hospital—” he starts to say, but Dean’s blood-stained fist cuts off his words, cracking against his jaw.

Dean put all his strength into that one.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3 (Finale!)

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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@chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords

[fatallyaddictedtofiction]

I wanna write a season 15 fix-it but Cas still gets taken to the empty and Jack uses all his power to kill God, reverting to a baby, so Sam and Dean have to look after a kid (mainly Dean because he's done it before) while grieving Cas and Dean is terrified of becoming John amd Sam asks why and then it clicks for Sam that Dean loved Cas and hhh

[milquetoast-er]

Hey y’all! I’ve never promoted my fic on here but I thought I’d give it a shot. This is my first SPN work and first completed long fic, and my pride and joy 🥹 Full of hijinks, husbandism, angst/bickering, cuddling and making up, Cas being a flirty bitchy bastard, Dadstiel, Dad!Dean, and healing. I included an excerpt so you can get a feel for the formatting and see if you like it!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54793849/chapters/138880636

(If you liked Kenopsia (Talk Some Sense to Me) by ImYourHoneyBee you might like the vibes of this one, but I swear I read that AFTER I wrote 80% of this 😭😭 PLEASE READ THAT IT IS A FANDOM MUST)

[morallygreyintrovert]

writing my spn Destiel fix-it fanfic, I constantly have multiple tabs open for random research purposes, one of them being ‘’description of a rotten corpse”.

The life of a fanfic writer be like✨so glamorous ✨

[raz-writes-the-thing]

"This is my favorite part of the day—just us, no worries.” with bobby singer if you could!! thanks for giving him a shot!! <3

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Bobby groused, pulling his cap off and throwing it onto the coffee table next to his recliner. He gestured for you to come relax on his lap- which you did without hesitation, melting into his embrace.

Bobby let out a sigh of visceral relief, his arm rubbing yours as you curled up to him, resting your cheek upon his shoulder.

"Those boys will be the death of me," he said absent-mindedly, hand rubbing soft circles against your tee. You hummed, pressing a hand to his chest so you could feel his heartbeat. "Idjits."

"Enough about the boys, Bobby," you said, adjusting to press a kiss to his cheek. Bobby's lips curled into an affectionate smile.

"Yeah," he agreed in his classic drawl, cuddling you closer and reaching for the television remote for some background noise. "You're right. Let's enjoy our time to ourselves while it lasts."

That sounded like an excellent plan to you.

[zer0expektation]

" “Where are we?” Cas asks, brows furrowing further, “When are we?”

Dean continues contorting his young and smooth face, “Wait, you don’t think we were actually sent back in time, do you?” Cas makes a good impression of Sam’s bitchface through the mirror, “Hey, maybe we were just magically put into our hotter younger selves.”

“Dean.”

Dean pulls himself away from the mirror and sighs, “Okay, if we are in the past then let's damn hope we’re in no-time important.” "

--

Cas and Dean get sent back in time to the day Dean took Sam out of Stanford by a Rit Ziem (Angel). Dean is determined to make everything right.

Chapter 1: I don't remember that being there. At least, not yet.

[fulltimesapphic]

Dean being a dad. Cas being a weirdo about affection again. Jack being a genius toddler.

Cas walked down the silent hallways of the bunker. Looking. For what he wasn’t quite sure. But as he found his way to Deans room he heard humming. Soft and gentle, sweet and safe. The door was cracked open, Cas peaked in.

Dean sat on the edge of his bed, Jack in his lap. Jack was cradling his finger which had a Paw Patrol bandaid on it. His faced was wet, the left over remains of tears. Dean was holding Jack in his lap, rocking gently back and forth. The song he was humming was Hey Jude.

Cas remembered Dean mentioning once that Hey Jude was the song Mary would sing to him as a child. As the song neared then end Cas entered the room more, leaning up against the doorway, watching.

Dean finished the song and continued rocking back and forth. “Why’d you stop daddy?” Jack said

Read on archiveofourown

[hunterevie]

As I seem to be on the theme of when Cas and Dean fell in love.

Story - Did I ever tell you how I gripped you tight and raised you from perdition?

Pairing - Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating - Mature

Word Count - 1,867

Summary - After they save Cas from the empty, he and Dean start a relationship. On their wedding night Castiel decides to recount the story of how he pulled Dean from hell, and how he fell in love with the righteous man he was destined to save.

“You remember my first words to you in the barn?” Castiel asked, arms around Dean as he lay resting on him. They had just made love for the first time after their wedding, an affair so small that they only had the priest for the service and Sam as a witness. He made scarce not long after, knowing from their looks that Cas and Dean wanted to go to the nice hotel they booked and consummate their marriage.

Not that they hadn’t been consummating their relationship for a long time.

Fatigue was pulling at his mind as he rested his head on the warm man behind him. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but his curiosity was now piqued. Keen to see where Cas was going with this. He turned his neck, cheek resting on his husbands pec so he could get a better look at him. Cas chuckled at the look of confusion clouding those gorgeous green eyes. He leant down, tenderly taking his husbands lips in his own. Smiling when they broke apart moments later.

“The first time we met?” Dean replied, unconsciously grabbing Castiel’s left hand, pulling it in front of him and placing gentle kisses on his knuckles before pulling away and examining the ring finger. Where there now lay a simple, but elegant, white gold ring. He couldn’t believe after 12 long years, and after almost losing one another forever when Cas was taken by the empty, that they had made the commitment to love each other for the rest of their lives. Dean kissed his hand tenderly again before draping it around his chest until it rested on his shoulder. Sagging even further into the grip of his husband.

This was the happiest he had ever been in his life.

“Yes, the first time we met. In the barn, after I saved you from hell.” He was shifting from underneath him now, manoeuvring them so they were laying side by side, facing one another. Cas clasped Deans ring hand and pulled it to his heart, enjoying the feeling of the slightly warm gold against his chest. A broad smile adorned his face, recounting the memory in his mind as if it was a happy one.

When Dean looked back at that time all he could remember was the fear as he was faced with this unknown entity claiming to be an Angel of the Lord. An entity that could turn the eyes of a human into liquid with just one look; that could make somebodies ears bleed just by trying to talk to them. An entity that would bring his wings out as a show of intimidation behind him. Fear at being told his raising from the pit had been a command from God himself.

He had to admit though, that little confused head tilt was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

“What about them my sweetheart?” With their new position he could now run his hands softly up his husbands sides, enjoying the small whines he was eliciting from his loves lips. Before Cas answered he leant down and kissed Dean tenderly.

“Did I ever tell you how I gripped you tight and raised you from perdition?” Those words still had an effect on Dean that made him shiver. They rarely spoke about his time in hell, or how Cas saved him. For years he was plagued by nightmares of his tenure there. How he went from tortured to torturer, slicing pieces of souls for his tormentors, for Alastair the demon that took him under his wing. As time passed the nightmares faded but he still didn’t want to discuss what he did, how his actions were the start of the apocalypse. When he and Cas begun a relationship, some of the nightmares returned. His brain associating his lover with that traumatic moment in his life. When he awoke from them screaming Cas held him close, murmured words of love and comfort until he would fall back asleep. His patience and love got him through, and that’s why he knew he would get through this conversation.

He shook his head, bringing his hand up to his left shoulder, lamenting the loss of the handprint, a mark of claim from the man he loved. Castiel smiled softly, bringing his arms around Deans waist, running his hand up his lower back softly to indicate it would be okay.

“When I found you in hell, I expected to find you on the torture racks. It shocked me to see you had submit to Alastair and had now become the torturer.” Dean hid his face in shame at the words, only lifting his eyes when Cas pulled his chin up. They had never broached this subject before, and Dean feared how his husband would see him. But those beautiful blue eyes showed nothing but understanding and love. He swallowed his shame down when Cas bought his hand up to cup his cheek. Smiling to show him that they could get through this. Everything would be okay.

He believed him.

“I remember approaching your soul. Angel blade in hand, ready to fight any demon that stood in my way. But none did, they submitted. A surprising turn of events considering how many of my brethren I lost on the way to finding you.” There was a small look of grief on his face. Wanting to comfort him Dean moved forward and pressed a soft kiss to those lips he loved so much. Reaching up and lacing his fingers around the hand still laying on his cheek. He nodded, a silent indication Cas should continue. “When I got to you. I saw a haunted man who had been broken. One who had picked up the knife in a bid to stop their own pain. You claimed you enjoyed hurting other souls, but nothing in your eyes suggested that to me at the time. Those green eyes still spoke of hope. They were a light in that terrible darkness.”

Unconsciously Dean had drifted closer to Cas, now resting his head on his chest as he listened to his husbands words. He let out a shaky breath, waiting for Cas to continue.

“Alastair was there, by your side with that twisted smile on his face. As I stood pleading with you to come with me, he laughed and goaded me. You told me you didn’t deserve to be saved, you were at home in hell and these were your kind now. I was resolute though, I was not leaving without you. Not when I had come so far, and lost so much, in my mission to save you.

“There was a shift when Alastair realised I wasn’t going to leave empty handed. The demons who had stood by and let me through now advanced on me. There were too many for me to take down at once. I managed to ‘gank’ a few, as you would say.” Dean snorted with laughter, imagining his husbands dorky little air quotes as he said the word gank, causing Cas to grin a little before continuing his story.

“I knew if I didn’t take action I would be lost in the depths of hell, an unsatisfactory place for an Angel. I grabbed your wrist but you wrenched away from my grasp, hissing in pain and demanding I leave as you didn’t deserve to be saved.

“Lost and out of ideas, I got close enough. Pulling your back to my chest, running my arm over just below your neck and gripping your left shoulder in my hand.” As he recounted the way he held him in hell, Cas started to mirror it in real life. Turning his husband so his back was nestled against his chest, his arm across his body. When he placed his hand over the left shoulder Dean gasped. It was psychological, he was sure, but when Cas touched him there an incredible pleasure would shoot up his body. Like a spark of electricity. He felt feather light kisses against his neck and shoulder, causing him to groan softly and move to give Cas more room.

“As I held you close your soul reached out to my grace. It was as if we were a perfect balance of one another, yin and yang. It was that moment I wanted you all to myself Dean. I didn’t care if you had a higher purpose as Michaels vessel, I just wanted to claim you as my own. I had never felt so complete with another being.” He growled, biting down a little on Deans neck, causing the ex-hunter to moan in delight. He loved when Cas became all possessive.

“I clutched you tight to my chest and flew you out of the pit. Leaving behind the screams of Alastair and his demon flock. During the ascent your head lulled back and you stared at me with those gorgeous green eyes, with a look of awe and love.” Reflecting Cas’s words, Deans head lulled back against his husbands shoulder, who bought his free hand up to tenderly grab his chin. “This look, this is the moment I knew our bond was profound, and you could feel it to.” He caressed Deans lips with his own briefly before finishing his story.

“Once we got to Earth, I repaired your damaged body and soul. But that hand print, my one of claim, I couldn’t bare to heal it at that moment. I needed those in heaven, on earth, and in hell, to know that you, Dean Winchester, were mine and mine alone. And today, I finally made good on that promise.” There was a snarl in his voice as he bent down and nipped at Deans neck again, causing him to gasp, eyes fluttering shut, enjoying the sensation of his husband running his lips down his neck and shoulder. He felt a hand dance down his abs towards his interested member, not caring they had finished making love less than an hour ago.

“I have loved you from that moment in hell when I wrapped you in my arms, and I will love you for the rest of eternity. On Earth; and in heaven.” Emotions had gotten the better of Dean, small tears started to fall down his cheeks. He laughed slightly before wiping them away, turning his head again once he had.

“I am always thankful you’re the one who saved me. I will love you for eternity to my Angel.” He whispered before they kissed passionately, knowing this kiss was only going one way. All thoughts of fatigue had been wiped from Deans mind, wanting to feel connected to his Angel in every way possible.

After that confession they made love multiple times throughout the night. In between kissing and touching one another, unable to be apart for too long.

It wasn’t until the next morning Dean thought through those words again, and confessed the secret he had been holding for 12 years.

When he looked into Cas’s eyes for the first time whilst being raised, in that moment, he realised he had already fallen in love with him.

He had always loved his Angel, and he would for all eternity.

[supernaturalsidepiece]

Season 16. Metanatural. Based on this post.

[strawberry-roses-on-ao3]

I wrote a spn finale fix-it fic!

You Have to Fight for Your Happy Ending

Fandom: Supernatural

Relationships: Castiel x Dean Winchester, Eileen x Sam Winchester (implied briefly), Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Other Warnings: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Spoilers for Series Finale, Minor Violence

Rating: Teen and Up

Status: One shot. Finished.

Fic Summary:

I told a coworker about how Dean died and he said "wtf? if it was my brother I would've told him he was in shock from the injury and to shut the fuck up and let me get help?" and I agreed so I wrote this fic (and also pushed my destiel agenda after making Dean live)

[watchoutforthefanfics]

the apple pie life for me (and you) // Dean Winchester x Castiel (SPN)

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: Cough Syrup - Glee Cast (Cover)

Summary: One minute, Castiel is confessing his love as he sacrifices himself, so Dean can live. The next, Dean is dead, and Castiel's avoiding him in Heaven. Or maybe Dean's avoiding him. Dean has probably never been more confused in his life, feelings for his best friend and all.

TWs: kinda angst, mentioned vomit, very slightly alluded child abuse (john winchester), a little bit of yelling, sort of suicidal thoughts (like yeah, but he's already dead), cursing, crying, low self-worth, mention of self-sacrifice, Dean is bad at feelings (and so is Cas), avoidance, mention of death, and confrontation.

[[A/N: This is a finale fix-it, but with the finale still canon, if you will. Except Dean doesn't like just drive until Sam dies. This actually ripped out my soul and shoved it back in. I felt possessed writing this. Also, let Dean say fuck. Anyway. This shit will fuck you up, but it's a happy ending !!! Anyway, enjoy :))) ]]

Dean doesn't think he wanted to die.

But he's not really sure. And he kinda feels like that's something you should be sure about.

As he cruises along in Baby with no place to go, but also somehow having somewhere in mind, he just keeps thinking about it.

Lots of things, really. Chuck, everyone disappearing, Jack, Sammy back on Earth (he thinks he's always gonna worry about him), and... and Cas.

See that's... that's where his mind hitches.

Because otherwise, after Jack took over, Dean thought things were going pretty good. Great, even. Him and Sammy doing the same thing it all started with. (Sans the Dad thing, probably for the best, but still-)

But, the more he thinks about it now, where there is nothing but the road, Baby, and him... That life, that wasn't what he wanted. He wasn't living how he wanted to. Sure, he wanted Sammy in it, but to say he still wanted to be a hunter?

When he thought about it, it kinda felt like he was still playing the role that Chuck had carved out for him. He knows he had free will then, he knows Chuck wasn't in charge, but he just... That role was comfortable, familiar, and he thinks maybe... both him and Sam just fell right back into it.

And then, there's the just him and Sam thing. It started like that, yeah, and don't get him wrong, he loves Sammy. (It's probably in his bones now, it's so ingrained in his friggin' DNA.) But it wasn't just him and Sammy, not anymore.

So, how can everything be 'goin' good' when you're missing pieces, people?

Like Jody and the girls, Garth and his family, Eileen, Jack and... and Cas.

So, even though, Jack fixed it all, it was still kinda like him and Sam were the only ones on the planet. Alone.

He wasn't happy with what he was doing, he was missing people like hell, and his brain was in near-constant turmoil because... because his best friend was dead. And it wasn't like he tried to stop it, live like how Castiel wanted him to. What he died for.

But he just couldn't. How the hell was he supposed to live happily when Cas was dead? Because of him, of all things.

So, maybe... maybe he did want to die.

Dean doesn't think it's only the Cas... thing, he thinks it's a lot of things (probably). But, he thinks him not being there is really what makes it all so wrong.

He thinks back to when Cas was dead before, when... when all he needed was a "damn win" and he got him back. Everything was so much better, even though shit hadn't been done about Chuck or any of their other problems. He had a damn win.

He's just starting to think that maybe he didn't need a win, maybe he needed Cas.

And maybe that's why the life he lived wasn't what he wanted. Maybe that's why it was so easy to die when he'd been fighting all his life to live freely. Escape whatever goddamn prophecies plagued his life, and live how he wanted to.

Team Free Will, he remarked somewhere in his head.

And yet, the only one living freely was Cas. Sam and Dean, written like damn books, apparently, but Cas?

Chuck said he never followed him, said that he had a "crack in his chassis" (whatever the hell that meant). And he'd even... the turning point for him was Dean. Goddamn "gripping him tight and raising him from perdition".

That was when he'd veered off the path Chuck had built for him, and out of the damn countless universes, this... his Cas was the only one who broke the cycle.

And then, he'd think back to the moment he died for the... for the last time. What he said, and how he said it, and even when Dean tried to twist it to something that wasn't so goddamn scary. He couldn't. Because he had said it clear as day.

And just telling him gave him 'true happiness' (like a damn fairytale). He didn't expect a response, or anything, just telling him. Dean couldn't wrap his head around it at all. Hadn't since the day he said it.

Every time he thought about both of them, Cas's... confession and Chuck's words, he connected the dots. He'd never let himself think about it, but now he had all the time in the world to. It's all he could do.

So, he let himself think it, just this once.

Cas... loving him, that wasn't planned. That was all Cas. This Cas. His Cas.

He maybe even loved him so much that it broke god's will.

How was Dean supposed to handle that? Digest that? When seconds later, Cas was dead. Even now, he couldn't-

There was a house.

To his left, it had been miles of just meadows and fields, and now... now there was a house. A white house, that you sort of just pictured in your head when you imagined a 'family home'. It looked kind of oddly like his house when he was a kid, but also not at all.

It had a white picket fence and a big yard. It had all the works.

The apple pie life, his mind chimed.

Dean paused a moment, wondering if this was someone else's. His eyes peered around it, focusing on the long, empty driveway (the kind that was half dirt and half rocks). And he came up decidedly empty.

He took a breath, and mumbled low (maybe to make sure he could still talk), "'S worth a shot."

Flinching a little at Baby bumping along the rocks, Dean slowly crept up to the house. Eyeing it the whole time, as if it would change when he looked away. Or maybe like it wouldn't feel right halfway up the driveway.

But, he felt the same all the way through.

Dean pursed his lips, staring at the white shingles and the big porch with two rocking chairs -one on either side.

It was two stories, but still small. And it wasn't perfect either, not like out of one of those friggin' house magazines where everything seemed so clean, it was almost scary. There were scuffs and marks, and the grass grew too high right next to the steps.

He took a breath, and stepped out of Baby, throwing the keys around his fingers on instinct. The jingle was the only noise that filled the air then.

It was crazy how much the air smelt the same, felt the same. He could see the wind shift the blades of grass and the branches of the trees, it felt so much like... home.

Even though Dean had never seen this house before in his life, it felt like home.

That... That feeling was new.

He let his eyes surf over the land a second, before catching on a barn -rundown and hidden behind the house. And even though it was, Dean traced the driveway all the way back to it.

Letting himself take one last look at the house, he slowly trailed back to the barn. Feet crushing over rocks and twigs, he truly had never felt more alive. Ironically.

It wasn't the long stretch of road, the slick seats of Baby, or the low hum of the engine. It was the sound of birds, the smell of flowers, and the fresh air. Dean nearly almost bent down to get dirt on his hands just to feel it again, instead of the smooth steering wheel he knew so well.

He didn't though, and instead, approached the barn. Somewhere in his head, it rang familiar. He wasn't sure why or how, but as he walked through the door it just... he knew it.

And as his footsteps echoed through the air, it hit him.

Dean spun around on his feet and looked toward the door, almost on instinct.

He did know this barn. It was where he... where he first met Cas. He remembers it more with all the sigil and black paint everywhere, but looking back at the door, at the lights-

He laughed a little, the dramatic son of a bitch.

Dean cut himself short, watching the doors. Maybe he was expecting something, someone, but he'd never say it out loud. He couldn't, not now.

Cas had been right there.

And there was a part of him that wished he still was.

He took a deep breath through his nose, wondering what exactly he was going to do with it. Or if he was just gonna keep it empty. Because...

He had the spare thought to make it into a kinda garage, build some shelves maybe, fill the walls with parts. He could pull Baby in, shelter her from the rain. If it did rain here. Somehow Dean hoped so. He wanted stuff like rain, snow, the crunching leaves, and the smush of mud under his shoe.

It was weird to say he wanted to feel human in Heaven, but he did.

Because when had he ever felt human? Really?

He wanted that. He wanted a lot of things now that could never have imagined back then. Or didn't think to, he guessed.

Patting one of the wooden walls, Dean made his exit.

His eyes lingered on the backyard for a moment, where the expanse of grass seemed larger, and in the corner, there seemed to be a fenced-off patch of dirt. Maybe for a garden.

He had never thought about having a garden, but he wasn't really against it either.

He looked at for a second, before thinking to himself. Cas would probably like that.

He had that bee thing, and bees like flowers, right? So, maybe he'd offer it to him. Let him have the space. It would be nice having him there, a little piece of him around him every day.

Because he knew that he was tinkering around somewhere, supposedly with Jack. And maybe... maybe it would be nice for him to have a break, a garden.

Dean bit his lip, tapping his foot a moment.

Was that what it was? Was that why you wanted him here, Winchester? Really?

He kept moving forward, steady steps back to the front of the house. For once in his life, there was no rush. He could take his time.

By the time he swung around to the porch, the wind had died down and left only the shining sun in its wake. It felt just like when the sun touched his skin on Earth, maybe even a little better. He liked it the same reason he liked everything else, just being human.

Dean moved up the steps, stairs creaking with every move and his hand drifting across the railing. It was imperfect with bumps and peeling paint, and he had a thought that maybe he could fix it one day. Maybe that's why the house is the way it is, so he could fix it.

Like maybe it had been built like that because he'd always wanted to do it. Fix up a house. Did Cas know that?

His eyes roamed over to the second rocking chair thoughtfully. He kind of had an idea of who he wanted there.

He let his fingers drift over the chair a moment, like maybe if he thought hard enough, he'd be there. Here.

Dean didn't think that he could talk to him, or maybe that he would be comfortable doing so. But that didn't mean he didn't want to friggin' see him, talk to him.

And even though it was scary as hell, he would talk about it if Cas wanted to. He just thinks that the natural progression is his response, and Dean... Dean wasn't sure he had one. Or maybe he had one, but he wasn't sure he could say it.

He was a damn coward.

Pulling open the door, Dean's eyes slunk along the walls. The first thing he saw was a hallway, softly colored walls, and frames along it. Stepping inside, he pulled the door closed behind him (on instinct) and drew his attention to the pictures.

A lot of them, he recognized.

Old pictures of him and Sammy, pictures of his Mom and Dad. But some, he hadn't.

His fingers trailed over a frame. It was him and Cas laughing in the bunker, he'd had no idea it was taken at all. It must've been Sam, but he'd never found the need to show him, apparently.

He had that sort of crinkly smile that he'd get sometimes, and Dean was saying something but he was laughing halfway through it. And Cas was just looking at him like he always did.

Ever since Cas's goodbye, he'd been rethinking everything he knew. Everything.

From the first time he saw him to the last, he'd looked through everything -trying to find it. Trying to see how he'd missed it for so long. And when he did, it was right damn in front of him.

That was probably what he hated this most, that he'd never seen it. Dean had never even thought of the possibility, only once or twice when some dick would make an offhand remark. (Which, when he looked back on it, happened a lot.)

And it has seemed just so far away. Impossible.

Maybe that wasn't because he hadn't... but because he was a broken human (past damn repair) and he was an angel of the Lord.

How could he love me?

And then, there was all that he said. That he believed Dean was so much better than he did. At his very core was love of all things.

"The one thing I want, I know I can't have."

Knows he can't have, it kept ringing through his head. As he wandered up the stairs, maybe even before that, when he was driving, and maybe even before that when it was just him and Sammy ganking bitches.

He didn't tell Sam, and maybe that was the biggest thing. Maybe he felt some guilt, or maybe... maybe he just wanted to keep it to himself. He wasn't sure.

Dean wasn't sure about any goddamn thing at this point.

He took a breath and peeked into the rooms. He didn't want to go fully in them, he wasn't sure why. But one of them, he recognized to be a guest bedroom. It was empty, except for a bed and a dresser -impersonal.

Maybe for Sammy someday.

There was a bathroom on the other wall, he thinks he has two. One downstairs and one up. (Maybe even three, he hasn't looked at his master bedroom yet.) He paused a moment, maybe imagining things on the sink. Imagining a rug he buys one day (do they even buy things? Or does he just think it into existence?). It was domestic, and Dean couldn't tell if he liked it or not.

He trailed down the stairs again, and just to his right, he saw another bathroom -right by the front door. It was empty again, except for the essentials. Toilet, shower, and sink. He didn't waste anymore time.

Across from it was, he guessed, the living room. And he kinda expected the same, just the essentials, maybe some fuzzy throw pillows that Dean would inevitably throw out. Maybe a rug he'd say he didn't like, but he'd keep it anyway.

But it wasn't.

Instead, Dean found something a lot more personal.

It was a big TV with shelves surrounding it filled with movies. And the more he looked at it, the more at it -they were his favorites. And on the wall under the window, there was a cassette player (no cassettes, but they were probably out in Baby) and to its left a mini fridge. Dean chanced a look in it and found his favorite type of beer. And under it, on one of the shelves was an unused record player. Beside both of them, there was one of those containers for vinyls (Dean had friggin' clue what it was called), and it was filled. He didn't have to look to know it was all his favorites.

There were bean bags piled in the corner like he'd have too many visitors for the couch. Or maybe they'd expect him to. Cas would expect him to.

Dean felt like his breath was shot out of his chest. A little like he couldn't friggin' breath.

His Dean-cave.

It was a damn upgrade, yeah, not with concrete floors and stuffy walls. But in essence the very same. Probably the perfect version of it in his head.

God, had Cas remembered that?

Remembered all of it? His favorite fucking songs, favorite movies, favorite shows- Had Cas remembered everything?

It made him want to throw up, or maybe like his heart was squeezed so tight in his chest that he felt like he might die. Again, he guessed.

Wouldn't be the first time.

Dean stared at the room, hand coming to rest on the back of the couch. He swallowed back the bile that was rising in his chest, it felt like his stomach was waves in the damn ocean.

He didn't know whether to cry or throw his guts up. It felt just like after Cas was taken by the Empty.

Like his world was shifting and crumbling all at once.

Dean stepped back a few steps and came up against the wall. His eyes burned.

He ran a hand through his hair, a little frantically, and tried to school the sob that climbed up his throat.

He's alive, he repeated to himself, Cas is fucking alive.

Some other voice chimed back, little and weak, But he's not here, is he?

He took in a deep breath, shaky, and leaned his head back up against the wall. Looking up at the ceiling, Dean thought maybe he felt tears roll down his cheeks.

He wanted to pray, bring him here. But what the hell would he even say?

"Hey buddy, confessing your love and fucking dying after wasn't very fun for me."

"What you did wasn't goddamn fair."

"I know you love me, but I don't understand it. I don't get it."

"How can you love me?"

"I think maybe I love you too."

His breath hitched in his chest.

He clenched his fist onto the wall, pounding it a few times. He heard the frames rattle in their places and felt the wood boards behind it under his hand.

Dean took a deep breath in and wiped at his eyes. Sniffling, he walked forward into the kitchen. Keep moving.

It was the cozy kind of kitchen, not the minimalist crap, with wooden cupboards and imperfect counters. The refrigerator had a few pictures stuck to it, held up by those damn alphabet magnets.

He just somehow knew that was Cas's idea.

And he laughed a little at it, taking one of them in his hands and rubbing his thumb over the shitty plastic.

His eyes smoothed over the space again, and he found something actually on the counter. He wasn't sure how he missed it the first time, but now, there was a slice of apple pie there. Probably the most picturesque one he'd ever seen. Heaven pie.

"Goddamn Heaven pie," he muttered, but he was smiling.

Before he could take a bite, of what he suspected might be the best pie in his life, he heard something.

A dog bark.

Dean nearly ran to the front door, leaving the pie stranded on the counter. Swinging the door open, he nearly stalled in place.

Miracle was there, yeah, and ran up to him a little like he was the only person in the world. It made his heart ache. But there was someone else.

"I've got a delivery," Charlie, his Charlie, smiled -grinned even.

"Charlie," he spoke, a little like it took everything in his chest to. She only smiled brighter.

Dean thought maybe he was crying, and he grabbed her in a hug. One that he thought may have been a little too tight but she didn't complain. She didn't say a word.

He put his chin on top of her head (just like he used to) and felt her hair (still short) under it. He used to do it to remember she was there, it felt like he was missing a fucking limb when he couldn't anymore. He never thought about the fact that maybe he could again one day.

It felt like everything in him was relieved, as if the tension had melted away. Somehow, someway, Charlie was exactly what he needed right now.

God, he hadn't even thought about her.

Well, he had. A lot. He thought about everybody he'd ever lost, that shit weights on your conscience. (Especially her.) But he'd never thought of her being up here, that he could see her again. Give her a goddamn hug-

He sniffled a little and dropped his mouth to kiss her on the forehead. She hugged him back just as tight, and he thought he might’ve heard her sniffle too.

Dean spoke before he could stop it, "I'm sorry."

"Dean, no," she pulled back, but didn't let go of his arms, "-you weren't- That wasn't your fault, you know that."

He was still crying, and maybe his voice was cracking, "I'm still sorry."

Charlie rubbed her hands down his arms for a minute, before changing the topic, "'Heard you took down God."

Dean laughed a little, wiping at his eyes, "Damn straight I did. Me, Sammy, and Jack."

"Would've loved to know him," she smiled -big and bright, "-but he's too busy for me now."

"Probably too busy to see me too," he offered, sniffling, "-if that helps you."

She shrugged, a little knowingly, "I think he'd make time if you asked."

He bit his lip a moment, thoughtfully, "Ya wanna come in?"

"Was waiting for that," she laughed, walking in -her eyes dipping over the walls, before waltzing into the Dean-cave, "-Look at your digs, Winchester! Not bad."

"It fit me?" He asked.

She turned to him then, grinning, "To a T."

He ran his tongue along his teeth, something heavy in his throat, "You know who made it?"

"I do," Charlie passively remarked, as Miracle ran up and jumped on the couch, "-We saw the house pop up a bit ago, not long, and we saw them out here, building it."

"Cas, yeah?" He asked like he didn't already know.

"Yup," she popped the 'p', running up to his shelves and seemingly skimming the titles, "-that and uh... Jack. But, mostly Cas."

She muttered something about 'shit, you have that one?', but Dean's mind was elsewhere.

"Do you," he started asking, swallowing kind of awkwardly, "-Do you see things on Earth? Like um... events, or conversations?"

"Only when we want to," she answered, still busy on the shelves (currently she was on her tippy-toes looking at the top one), "-I've been watching a few conventions over the years. Sometimes I peek in on you, or Sam, or Cas, for that matter. But I'm pretty content here."

Dean fell silent, fidgeting with his hands.

She turned to him, quirking a brow, "Why? Do you want to check in on Sam? It's pretty easy, actually-"

"Before," he started, and Charlie's lips snapped shut, "-Before the whole, uh, Chuck fight and Jack becoming... well, God. Cas died again."

"Shit," she spoke, "-how did he die?"

"Billie, ya know, Death, uh," he cleared as throat, and Charlie's eyes were on him (intently watching), "-she was after us. Me and Cas, and he... he sacrificed himself."

"Damn," she let out, "-have you seen him since Jack-"

"He didn't really... die," Dean kept going, maybe like he couldn't stop (he wanted to tell someone), "-There's this place where, uh, demons and angels go when they 'die'. From what I've heard, it's kinda like a void, an eternal sleep kinda deal."

Charlie pursed her lips a moment, maybe trying to decide if she should speak, "Yeah, I've heard rumors. Never been there of course, but um, yeah."

Dean bit his lip, and took a deep breath in.

"Dean," Charlie slowly stepped toward him, "-are you okay? Do you need to... sit down?"

"He made a deal," he continued, and maybe he wasn't looking at her but he really couldn't, "-Uh, the Empty, or the eternal sleep thing, um... would take him when he was the damn happiest he's ever been."

"And," she paused, laughing a little, "-how was he the happiest he's ever been when you were running from Death?"

Dean didn't say a word, and Charlie promptly cut her laughter short. The silence echoed a moment, and she stepped closer to him again (this was uncharted territory).

"Dean?"

He swallowed, his voice was a little scratchy now and his eyes burned, "He... He started this speech about- about me, and how good I was. That I wasn't just anger or... or hate like I thought. I was love, I raised Sammy for... for love, and do what I do, like stop the goddamn apocalypse, for love. That I was... the most selfless person he'd ever known-"

Charlie stayed quiet.

"-And he's lived millenniums," Dean laughed a little and it was wet (and maybe he was crying), "-I mean, how can that... how can that be true?"

"Dean," she leveled in a steady voice.

"And he just kept going," he laughed again, and he wiped at his eyes, "-and I couldn't say a goddamn word."

"Dean."

"And after all that," he felt a sob crawl up his throat, it shattered through his chest, "-after all that he told me he loved me. And just saying it, fucking telling me- That made him the happiest he's ever been."

Charlie's eyes were shiny, and she was looking at him a little like he would shatter at any second. But she didn't say a word.

"He said," he swallowed, his breaths shaky, "-He said that the one thing he wanted he couldn't have but I..."

He let himself say it, this once.

"Charlie, I-" he looked at her then, and she was frowning, her eyes were teary, "-I think he can have it. I think he-"

Dean took a breath, it shook through his lungs and laughed again -wiping at his eyes (like he wouldn't be crying if they didn't fall).

"-I think he's always damn had it."

There was silence then, and Dean didn't feel like he had anything else to say. Or maybe that he could say anything else. It felt like his soul had been ripped out of his chest-

Charlie seemed to take a minute to make sure, tediously stepping forward.

But when she realized he was, she pulled him into a hug again. This time though, she stood on her tippy-toes and pulled his head to her shoulder. Her hand cradling the back of his head, Dean followed her lead.

He took a breath in, that was just so Charlie, his Charlie, and it made his eyes fog up again.

She held him there a while, even though it couldn't have been comfortable. He knew that, but he couldn't be the one to pull away. Halfway because it was so long since he'd seen her, and halfway because he couldn't remember the last time he was held like this. Cared for like this.

"Did you," she started, slow and careful (gentle), "-Have you told anyone about this?"

"No, I... I died with it," he breathed out, "-I just... I couldn't tell Sammy-"

"Dean, hey," Charlie shooshed him, before joking lightly, "-that's okay. It just... It seemed like it was a little pent up."

Dean laughed a little, and she seemed to be happy about that.

"It was," he echoed out in the silence, "-I didn't... I didn't tell anyone."

"Well," she hummed, pushing her chin onto his shoulder, "-thank you for telling me."

Something in his chest softened.

"I think that's..." she spoke, gently, "-I think that's big for you. All of this is... is big for you."

There was a beat.

"You're doing your best, Dean," she soothed, squeezing him a little tighter, "-And maybe you didn't tell Sam, or tell Cas, but you did what you could. Everyone has their limits."

He let out a breath, less shaky this time, and dug himself further into her shoulder.

"That's nothing-" her hand rubbed against his back, "-That's nothing to be ashamed of."

He let the words sink into his skin.

"And quite frankly," Charlie quipped, "-your limit is way past mine. So, I can't judge."

Dean laughed again, and he could nearly feel her smile.

Thoughtfully keeping himself there for just a little longer, before pulling back. Sniffling and wiping at his eyes, Charlie stayed very close by, just in place for another hug.

"We good?" She questioned, a little playfully but on the same note, very serious.

"Yeah, yeah, we're uh-" he chuckled out, "-we're good."

"Can I..." she paused a moment, "-If you're not comfortable, don't answer it. But, is this your first... guy thing?"

Dean froze a little.

"You don't have to answer," she quickly added, "-at all. No pressure."

It's Charlie.

He ran his hand along his jaw, before rumbling out, "Kinda. I... When I was a kid, I knew, and maybe I even acted on it a little, but Dad..."

Charlie hummed in understanding, "He found out?"

"Yeah, uh," he spoke, suddenly awkward, "-I don't... I've never known how he figured it out. Or maybe he just... assumed, but he... yeah."

It was unspoken, and she seemed to understand.

"God," she asserted, maybe a little incredulously, "-he should really not be here."

Dean laughed a little, but something was heavy in his chest, "I don't know if I'd visit either of them anyway. Even without... this."

Charlie pursed her lips, "And you don't have to. It's your Heaven. If they... If they try to talk to you, let me know. I'll get a crew."

"A crew?"

"There's enough of us," she shrugged, "-He's an old man anyway, I'm sure I could take him."

He laughed a little again, "You'd be surprised."

She looked at him a moment like maybe that spoke louder than anything else he said. She squeezed his shoulder once, but gratefully, didn't say anything.

"And can I clarify something?"

Dean hummed.

"When Castiel..." she didn't say it, "-Did you not have time? Or were you just... scared?"

"A little bit of both," he answered, fingers tapping along the table by the couch, "-He said it, told me goodbye, and... and adios."

"But you wouldn't have told him? If you got the chance?" She asked, genuinely.

"I don't..." he sighed out, "-I don't know. I think, in the moment, I was just overwhelmed by it all. In-between how he talked about me, and how he... I barely processed a word before he was gone."

Charlie just looked at him.

"I sat there for a while before it-" he moved over to Miracle, petting him, "-it, uh, kicked in."

"And you-" she responded, a little slowly, "-you haven't seen him since then?"

"Well, I... I just got here," he explained, picking up Miracle's ear between his fingers, "-and I didn't even know he'd gotten out. Until... Until Bobby told me."

"Huh," she commented, sitting beside Miracle, "-Do you think he'd come? If you asked?"

Dean rolled the thought around in his mind, "I don't know, he kinda wanted me to live a lot longer than I did."

"How did you die?"

"On a hunt," he answered, simply.

"Shit," she muttered, "-What took you out?"

"Piece of rebar," he offered, wandering back around toward the shelf, "-Monster of the week threw me against a wall, right into it."

"That's..."

"Sammy was gonna call an ambulance, but I..." he echoed out, "-I told him no. I think- I think I wanted to die."

Charlie didn't speak for a moment, processing it, "Because of... Cas?"

"Yeah, mostly," Dean admitted, "-I, uh, realized it all when I got here. Drove Baby for a while and just... Just started thinking."

"About everything?"

"Yeah, uh," he hummed out, brushing his hand over Miracle's fur, "-everything. I wasn't happy there. Wasn't living the life I wanted, and I don't think I could have. Not without Cas."

She paused a second, "Do you think you'll be happy here?"

"It's Heaven," he laughed, not really looking at her, "-I kinda have to be, right?"

"Well," she countered, speaking a little carefully, "-Dean, you still don't have Cas."

Dean's hand froze in place.

"If you weren't happy without him then," she continued, thoughtfully, "-how are you going to be happy without him now?"

"He was dead," he spoke -defensively, "-He's alive now. I can... I can live with that."

"Dean," Charlie reiterated, low and gentle, "-will you be happy?"

"I've handled worse," he argued, but something in his chest was twisting.

She looked at him then, eyes steady on his, "But you don't have to."

He swallowed, repeating, "But I can."

She stood up then, coming right in front of him, and Dean nearly shrunk in place.

"Dean, he... he loves you," Charlie spoke, barely a whisper, "-and I think, somewhere in that thick skull of yours, you love him too."

He gnawed at his lip, "What's that gotta do with anything?"

"It's... everything, Dean," she laughed, a little in disbelief, "-It's got to do with everything. You deserve to be happy."

He took a deep breath through his nose.

"Isn't that what Castiel wanted?" she pointed out, "-For you to be happy?"

"Apparently not," he retorted, a little bitterly, "-how could I be happy when he's dead?"

"Maybe-" Charlie paused, cogs turning in her head, "-You said that he had to be the happiest he's ever been right?"

"Yeah," he replied, trying to follow.

"How could he be the happiest he's ever been if he knew he was causing you pain?"

Dean swallowed, his stomach twisting, "You think..."

"Dean, look I could be wrong," she clarified, "-but I don't think he thought you'd care. If... If he was the happiest he's ever been, and he loved you, he would never be able to cause you pain, or think he would, and still get taken."

He was speechless, something climbing up his throat.

"If he thought you weren't going to be happy," she finished like she'd had a major breakthrough, "-he... he couldn't have been taken."

"He..." Dean faltered to a stop, "-You really think he thought I wouldn't care?"

Charlie pursed her lips together, "I don't know how else it could've worked."

Dean felt like his whole body was on fire, like he was burning alive. Cas didn't know he cared? How the hell didn't he know that?

God, he cared so damn much, and he didn't even know?

He tried to think back to every time he'd lost Cas, all the grief. Dean realized he'd never seen that, he didn't see everytime he lost his goddamn mind because he was gone. For all he knew, everything was hunky-fucking-dory. He's just always thought he knew.

God, he didn't know?

She approached him then, holding his arms, "Dean, I know it's scary, believe me, I know-"

He just looked at her, words stuck in his throat. It felt like he could say everything and nothing at all. Like he was feeling everything and nothing at the same time.

"But he deserves to know," she finished.

Dean took a second, before saying, "Yeah, yeah, he does."

Charlie smiled at him, patting his arms, "You should talk to him, like... as soon as possible."

"Through what? Prayer?"

"Well, yeah," she laughed a little as if it was obvious.

"How do I know..." he exhaled, "-How do I know he'll come?"

"Dean," she assured, "-he loves you."

"Yeah, but what if he's-" he paused, "-what if he's avoiding me?"

"Dean," she repeated, "-he loves you."

"How does that-"

"That doesn't just stop," she interrupted him, "-It's not like if he gets uncomfortable, he'll just stop loving you. It's bigger than everything, if you ask him to, he'll come."

"But-" he tried.

"I know it," she continued, "-and when have I ever been wrong?"

Dean laughed a little.

"Actually, don't answer that," she laughed, "-Just, just trust me. He built this whole Heaven for you, didn't he?"

He responded, simply, "He did."

"He'll come," she repeated, "-You just have to ask, Winchester."

She'd left not long after that, with one solid hug (he didn't think he'd every stop hugging her, ever) and a promise to "tell me all the deets, including the juicy stuff".

Dean wasn't sure how to handle that.

He didn't do it immediately. He sat down and ate the pie first, which was the friggin' best one he'd ever had (he wondered if it always tasted like that up here). Then, he spent the next few hours going through his collection. He even popped in a cassette from Baby, had a few in-home concerts, and just sat with Miracle for a while (Dean thought that he might've known he wasn't doing something he was supposed to, he had a serious bitch face). And then it was night.

So, he went to bed.

He'll be honest, it happened a few times. Days happened (if that was a thing in Heaven).

It wasn't like he wasn't trying. He did, just every time he tried... He was just a damn coward. Kept saying, "I'll do it tomorrow." And it had very much already been tomorrow. A few of them, actually.

Part of him was kinda waiting to see if he'd just... show up like he used to. But, if he'd confessed his, what he believed to be, unrequited love to his best friend... he'd probably avoid him at all costs too. (He kinda already was.)

Today, though, was different.

Dean woke up, got his coffee, and instead of sitting down at the table and staring out the window (usually watching Miracle run around the yard), he went to the hallway. Couldn't tell you why, if you asked. But he just did.

And he stopped at the same picture, the one of him and Cas laughing. His eyes roamed over the crinkled smile, maybe a little differently now. An ache settled in his chest, like maybe he was missing a limb. Every morning he woke up, something was missing.

And sure, yeah, part of that was Sammy. But the other part...

His eyes smoothed over him again, and he just had the overwhelming urge for him to be there. And the thought ran through his mind again that he didn't know that he mattered. Cas was just living (relatively) with the knowledge that Dean didn't care, as if it was the truth.

With a breath, he decided today was the day.

He had given himself time, gotten dressed, sat out on the front porch (it was raining today, he found it kinda calming), and just readying himself.

Now, he was pacing in the kitchen.

"Cas, buddy," he tried like he was running through lines, "-No. Why would I call him buddy? That defeats the whole goddamn purpose."

He sighed, pinching his nose between his fingers, before trying again.

"Cas," he started, trying to think, "-that day. You knew I- Well, you thought you knew I-"

He dragged his palm down his face, groaning. How the hell was he going to do this?

"Fuck it," he decided, he was never going to get it right, "-let's wing it."

Dean let out a big long breath, shaking his hands as if to ready himself. And he really needed to do so.

He deserves to know, he deserves to know, he deserves to know-

"You can do this, Winchester," he mumbled to himself, "-You killed God, what's a damn love confession?"

Love, love, love, chimed through his head.

His stomach churned, but he stayed focused -eyes squeezed shut. Taking a few deep breaths, he stayed silent for a while. Maybe thinking a little too hard in his head, but at this point, there was no use in fighting it.

He deserves to know, he deserves to know, he deserves to know-

Dean let out a shaky breath, and opened his mouth -words slow and particular, "Cas, I don't know if you can hear me or if you're busy-"

Before he could finish another word, a voice called out from behind him.

"Dean," his voice was measured with a sort of lilt (maybe concern).

"Goddammit, Cas," he jumped, flinching, but turning to the angel on instinct, "-you gotta stop doing that."

He skimmed over him a second like he couldn't believe he was real. But he was, and he was standing right in front of him. Before he could say another word though, Cas started searching over him -quickly.

He lifted his arm (grabbing him by the wrist, Dean's brain froze a little), looking for an injury maybe, "Are you alright?"

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"What? Yeah," he blinked the haze out of his eyes, "-yeah, I'm fine, Cas. I'm in Heaven, what could hurt me?"

He furrowed his eyebrows in the way he always did and seemed to take him in a second. Blue eyes looked him over, maybe trying to tell if he was lying or not. (He probably could, if he was.) The way that he looked at him so intently always made him want to squirm, or run away, or make some odd comment.

It was a little relieving to see it now though.

"It's good to see you," Dean spoke without thinking about it. It was the first thing he thought of.

And it was, Cas being here felt like that missing piece was back in place. Perfectly slotted. It was kinda clouding his judgment.

Cas did the head tilt thing that he always did (and Dean let himself think for the first time that it was cute), eyebrows furrowing together. Even if Dean didn't know him well enough, he would've known he was confused.

"It's good to see you too, Dean," he finally spoke, cautiously but still so damn genuine, "-Although, I do wish we met in different circumstances."

Dean laughed a little, and the silence felt like he was being swallowed whole. But he just couldn't open his mouth.

"Dean?" He still said it exactly the same as he did the first day he met him. It made his head spin a little.

He looked at him, wordlessly.

"Why am I... here?"

Dean pushed his lips together, kind of deflecting, "When did you get out?"

Cas looked at him, maybe a little guiltily but still very sound, "Jack got me out... as soon as he had the power to."

"So, what-" he stated, trying to clarify, "-uh, right after Chuck was taken care of? When he snapped everybody back into existence?"

"Yes," Cas answered, "-After he left the two of you, he spoke to the Empty and got me out. It apparently wasn't easy, but..."

Dean but at his lip a little, looking to the ground a second, "So... So, all those weeks I was on Earth, you were out? Alive?"

Cas was just staring at him, mouth pressed into a thin line. Dean saw something shift through his eyes that couldn't really understand.

"And you-" he continued, now a little frustrated, "-you what, you didn't think to at least tell me that?"

"Dean-"

"No, no," he interrupted, "-I thought you were dead, Cas. Gone. And you just didn't want to tell me?"

"That's not," he let out a big long sigh, "-That's not the case, Dean."

"Sure as hell looks like it," he scoffed, and maybe he was frustrated but he couldn't find it in himself to be angry. Not anymore.

"I thought," Cas cleared his throat, maybe a little awkwardly, "-I thought you wouldn't want to see me."

"Why wouldn't I want to see you?" Dean asked, incredulously.

"The last..." he echoed out, like he didn't want to say the wrong thing, "-The last meeting we had wasn't preferable to you. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

He rolled around the thought in his head a second, and all he got was resounding defiance, but he couldn't quite say that yet. His head just kept pounding.

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"Did you-" he started again, searching for answers, "-After the Empty, did you think I was happy?"

Cas looked at him a second, before swinging his eyes to his sleeve almost instinctively (where the bloody handprint would've been), "Not happy necessarily."

"But your damn deal, or whatever," Dean waved his hand dismissively, "-you had to be happy. Completely happy."

"Yes," he answered, inquisitively, "-What is this about, Dean?"

"Cas," he responded, his voice a little shaky (he could see his eyes hitch on it), "-did you think I would care? That I wouldn’t give a damn if you died?"

He pressed his lips together and didn't say a word. Dean thought it was the most telling thing in the world.

His lungs felt like they were tied with rope -he couldn't get a good breath in. Like he was suffocating-

"Really?"

"You looked-" Cas tried to defend himself, "-You looked happy, Dean."

"Yeah," he explained, as if it was obvious, "-because you wanted me to be. And I was trying. For you."

He didn't respond.

"Because what good was a damn sacrifice if I didn't try?"

Cas opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Even though it looked like he was trying, maybe even trying to understand what Dean was expressing. Like he couldn't see it, or didn't believe it.

God, he really doesn't know how much I care?

He posed another question, wringing his hands, "Do you know how I died, Cas?"

"Of course I do, Dean."

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"I've had a lot of time to do some thinking," Dean continued, walking a little in place, "-and I think... No, I know that I did it on purpose."

"Don't say that," Cas spoke, voice heavy with something.

"Sammy wanted to call an ambulance," he continued, looking down at his hands and still walking, "-and I didn't let him."

"And you think-" something smoothed over in his eyes, "-you think you could've survived?"

"Maybe," he offered, "-I guess I don't know, but I... Cas, I didn't try. I didn't fight it. I spent my whole life fighting it, and when it mattered most, I didn't damn fight it."

Cas's face fell a little, some sort of understanding in his eyes, agreement even. It rattled through Dean's bones, and made it a little hard to stand a moment.

"I never thought that I could leave Sammy alone," he continued, and one of his hands racked through his hair, "-I was scared shitless to. But it was so easy to just give up. I wasn't... I wasn't living, Cas. Despite whatever you think in that angel head of yours, I was not damn happy."

Cas just looked at him, eyes flicking between his, trying to understand. He took a second, before replying, "I'm sorry, Dean. I would never want to cause you so much pain."

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

Dean's heart was pounding in his chest. He felt for a second that maybe it would burst through his ribcage like it did in cartoons. It felt damn powerful enough.

His breath caught in his throat, and he felt the urge for to say it. It was on the very tip of his tongue.

"I know, Cas," he deflected (something in his chests stung, coward), "-I know."

Cas just looked at him then, scanning over his face. He could tell there was something else, he looked right into his damn soul every time he looked at him, and there was something else. Dean waited a second, to see if he'd say anything, but he was hit with a resounding no.

Maybe he thought he'd already said enough. Too much maybe. Dean didn't know if he agreed with him or not.

"Cas, I-" he spoke, maybe a little quietly, "-I can't be happy without you. You gotta know that."

He was looking at him more intensely now, still trying to understand it all. Like maybe he couldn't imagine what Dean was trying to say. Or maybe like he couldn't even fathom it.

I love him, I love him, I love him-

"I know you didn't-" he cleared his throat, eyes flickering away (he couldn't look at him right now), "-I know you didn't see me. When you, uh, died, any of the times. But I- I gotta tell ya, I was far from happy."

Cas didn't interrupt him, he just kept looking. Staring. Like every word he said was important.

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

He just kept talking, at this point he could stop (his eyes burned), "I kept your goddamn trenchcoat in Baby the whole time you were..."

He thought maybe for a second he was working himself up, but he couldn't stop now.

"And when Lucifer stabbed you," he pressed his lips together, and swallowed, "-I gave you a hunter's funeral and... and watched your body burn up into flames."

"Dean," Cas spoke, he could maybe see the edge he was teetering on. Maybe he could see that he was going to cry, and that was new. Maybe he was trying to soothe-

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"And then, when the Empty got you," Dean's voice shook a little, "-I stayed there, for a... a while and cried, probably the most I ever have in my life-"

Cas flinched, maybe a little guiltily, "Dean."

"-I couldn't even answer Sam's damn phone call."

He was holding out his hands now, a little like how cops did, in those shows, when the perpetrator had a weapon or was threatening his own life. Cautious, careful. A little like he'd explode. Voice careful and measured, "Dean, I didn't know-"

"I know that, Cas," he interrupted, maybe a little defensively but he couldn't help it, "-I've been beating myself up about it since I realized that I never made it goddamn clear to you that I cared."

"Don't," Cas replied, a little pained, "-There's no need for that, Dean."

"For what? The fact that I didn't- That you didn't-" his words stuttered in his chest, and he just couldn't speak.

"I know now," he tried to soothe, and Dean's head was pounding, "-I know now that you... care. I know."

Care, care, care.

Love, love, love.

I love him, I love him, I love him-

It felt like his heart was in his throat, like everything was waiting to be said. Like it was right there, and he was so close.

"Is that what you wanted to talk about, Dean?"

All he could hear was his heartbeat in his chest, pounding, pounding, pounding-

I love him, I love him, I love him-

God, he didn't want him to leave.

This house was his too, he could just feel it in the walls. There was something missing, there was always something missing. Even when he was alive-

"Dean?"

How long had he wanted this? Wanted more?

I love him, I love him, I love him-

"Dean."

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"Dean, are you alright?"

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

I love him, I love him, I love him-

"Dean," his hands were on his shoulders now (just like before-), "-can you hear me?"

Pounding, pounding, pounding.

I love him, I love him, I love him-

Pounding, pounding, pounding.

I love him, I love him, I love him-

Pounding, pounding, pounding.

"Dean!"

I love him, I love him, I love him-

"Shit, Cas, you can have it!"

Cas looked startled for a moment, but he didn't step away, he didn't let go. Dean's stomach twisted. "What are you-"

"Back, back before the Empty... you said-"

Cas just stared at him, it made Dean want to stop but he couldn't stop-

"-you said, 'The one thing I want, I know I can't have'-"

He just kept talking, and Cas kept staring -something shining in his eyes. Dean thought he knew what.

"-and I'm pretty damn sure that thing was me-"

Cas was looking at him the way he always did, and Dean recognized it for what it was now.

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"-You can have it, Cas," he was speaking softer now, a little out of breath, "-You've... You've always had it. Had... Had me."

Cas was just staring a little in disbelief, dropping his hands, and stepping back a little (it made Dean's heart sting).

I love him, I love him, I love him-

"You don't-" he shook his head, not quite looking at him, "-You don't know what you're saying."

"I'm pretty damn sure I do," he responded, a little biting but there was just so much. It couldn't come out any other way.

Cas stared at him like he was trying to find the confusion, the lie, but he was coming up empty-handed. Wonder why the fuck that is.

"Goddammit, Cas," he pushed his palms into his eyes, "-are you gonna make me say it?"

"Say what?" He asked, like it wasn't obvious. Like he couldn't fathom it. It made Dean's hands shake, and his throat clog up.

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"Damn it, I love you too!"

The silence that filled the room was suffocating, but Dean just needed to breathe-

"And I can't be happy without you," he spoke, eyes still behind his hands (he couldn't look), "-and I want you to goddamn stay for once."

There was another beat.

"With me," and he thought he may have sounded a little pathetic, but he was very much past that point already.

And there was no one here who would ever judge him. Cas would never judge him and he knew that. He knew that like he knew that the sun rises in the morning and falls at night. Cas would never.

Before he knew what was happening, he felt hands pulling back his own -calloused fingertips against his own. Dean's breath hitched in his chest.

He loves me? He loves me? He loves me?

Cas was close now, and before he fully let go, he kept his hands on his face -cradling. And at first Dean thought he might kiss him (which he wasn't sure how to feel about), but he just kept them there.

He was looking at him like he always does (with love) and holding him a little like he was precious maybe, to him. Dean still couldn't understand that, but he thought one day he might be able to. That Cas might help him to.

"Okay, Dean," he spoke, gentle after a long sort of silence, "-I'll stay."

I love him.

He loves me.

[trenchcoatimpala]

The Elephant In The Room

Dean doesn't talk about the elephant in the room (Cas' confession) until he does.

wc: 6.5k Read below or on archive

Nothing had changed, well, okay, everything had changed. Eileen had moved into the bunker and she and Sam were disgustingly in love, Jack came around to visit when he was feeling so inclined and it was nice to see the kid, to try to make up for everything he did to him, and Cas… well, Cas was alive. It was one of the first things Jack did as the new God, and Cas’ powers were fully restored, possibly with more juice than before, which Jack said he’d done by accident. 

“I may have made him a tier higher than an archangel,” Jack had said sheepishly. 

But Dean wasn’t one to complain about having an extra juiced-up angel on their side, especially because it was Cas, and Cas was alive, and Dean…Dean was totally doing just fine with the elephant in the room, thank you very much. 

His method of dealing with said elephant was to simply not talk about it because that’s what you did with elephants in the room, you ignored them. Cas seemed fine with this decision, but Dean would catch him looking at him curiously and… lovingly, every now and then. It should make him uncomfortable, and maybe it did a little bit, because he would find himself fucking blushing like a damn school girl on her first date whenever Cas offered him a warm smile. But mostly it felt nice, and he liked it, and that was something that Dean was struggling to figure out how to deal with. 

How do you even bring up a deathbed love confession with your best friend when said best friend isn’t even dead anymore? He knew Cas told him all those things because he was dying and probably thought he would never see Dean again and would never have to deal with Dean’s emotionally stunted response, but here they were, and Dean was more emotionally stunted than ever before. 

The thing was, he didn’t know how to tell Cas his feelings, and it was harder to try and tell him anything when Cas clearly didn’t expect a reciprocation. If Cas was content to spend his days loving Dean quietly in the corner then Dean was inclined to let him. The problem was that he didn’t want Cas to be in the corner in the first place. He wanted Cas with him. He wanted to cling to him and never let him go, and he had already sort of been doing just that since Cas got back. 

It was a little humiliating how his heart rate would start ratcheting up in panic whenever he couldn’t actually see Cas. The other day, Sam had asked Cas for help in the library and he’d left the kitchen where Dean had been doing the dishes, and Dean couldn’t finish the fucking dishes because he’d dropped what he was doing and followed Cas and Sam into the library, as if his feet had moved of their own accord. He’d sat in one of the armchairs in the corner, watching impatiently as Sam and Cas researched something and Cas pointed out that Sam had mistranslated the title of one of the books. It’d been boring, and Dean had wanted to leave, but he couldn’t. He’d been rooted to the spot until Cas had finished helping Sam, and then Dean had said he would make them some coffee and Cas had dutifully followed Dean back to the kitchen, where he’d put on the coffee to percolate, and finally finished the damn dishes under Cas’ thoughtful gaze. 

Dean followed Cas everywhere he went, like they were tethered together by an invisible string. Cas sat on the couch in Dean’s room when he slept, taking up his watchful post as usual, and Dean… wasn’t bothered by it, wasn’t that something? It was comforting knowing that Cas was there with him, but the empty space in his bed next to him was always prominent, sticking out like a sore thumb whenever Dean’s arms ghosted over the sheets that did not hold another warm body. 

Cas had only been back for a few days and the elephant was already enormous, taking up far too much space and honestly driving Dean a little insane, because Cas also wasn’t bringing anything up. To be fair, Dean knew the ball was in his court, but Cas could at least nudge it towards him again. 

He tossed and turned in his too-empty bed, kicking out with his feet and knocking his blanket to the floor, and dammit now he was cold. He shifted onto his back, opening his eyes to stare at the dark ceiling. Cas’ presence in the room was still steady and he could tell Cas was looking at him, and Dean couldn’t take it anymore. He broke. 

“Come here,” he said into the dark room.

There was a shuffling noise and then Cas was across the room and Dean was sitting up in bed, reaching out to turn on the lights. Cas was standing beside his bed, head tilted curiously. “Is something wrong?” 

“No- yes, I mean no, but-” Dean swiped a hand down his face and groaned. He took a different direction. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course,” Cas answered dutifully. 

Here goes nothing. “Do you still love me?” He knew the answer but he had to be sure. 

Cas nodded carefully. “Yes, Dean.” 

“Okay,” he said, and then, “good.” 

“Good?” Cas asked, and Dean could almost feel the hope radiating from Cas’ body. 

“Yeah, good,” Dean said, gaining some confidence. “I mean, I don’t understand it, how you can… why I’m… well, you know, ‘it’ for you or whatever.” 

“Dean, I told you why.”

“Yeah, right before you died, which was a dick move by the way.” 

Cas slouched a little where he stood. “I’m sorry. It was the only thing I could think of to save you.” 

“And you never thought that me living without you is worse than dying with you?” Dean couldn’t keep the tremor from his voice, because they were treading the waters of emotional vulnerability and Dean’s mind wanted to deflect and his body itched to escape out the door, but he forced himself to sit still, going entirely against his instincts. 

“I- no,” Cas said after a moment. “I never- Dean you’ve never given me a reason to think that.” 

Dean stood up, facing Cas, towering over him just a little, which was ironic considering Cas was an angel. “I’m not good at giving people reasons to stay!” he snapped, frustrated. “I don’t know how to tell people I want them around because I think everyone is better off not being around me. And you wouldn’t know what you dying does to me ‘cause you’re not around to see it!” Cas stared at him, slightly slack jawed, and Dean took in a breath, and lowered his voice. “I never want you gone, Cas. Never. And I need you to get that because I can’t have you disappearing on me again.” Dean stepped closer to Cas, their faces close; sharing breath. 

“I’ve only ever wanted to stay,” Cas said, and there were tears in his eyes.

“Then stay,” Dean murmured over the thickness of emotion in his throat. “Right here, with me.” And then Dean did the only thing there was left to do, he pulled Cas into a kiss by the lapels of his trench coat, like he’d imagined doing over a hundred times since he met him, but that he’d never let himself think about for too long because it was impossible, and Cas could never love him like that, but here he was doing just that, and Cas was kissing him back with fervor. Dean’s knees hit the back of the bed as Cas backed him into it and then he was falling and an angel was crawling on top of him. 

Cas made quick work of getting Dean naked, it wasn’t like it was hard, all he was wearing was boxers and a t-shirt, but then when Dean reached up to push that goddamn coat off Cas’ shoulders, the angel let out a growl, pinning Dean’s hands above his head. “In a minute,” he promised, and his voice sounded wrecked. “I just- I need a moment, you’re so,” Cas’ breath pushed out of his throat in a sigh as he looked Dean over with hungry blue eyes, “you’re stunning, Dean.” 

Dean blushed. “I’m nothin’ special,” he grumbled, and he suddenly couldn’t look at Cas because it was kind of a lot. 

But Cas’ hand was on his chin and he turned his head to lock their eyes together. “You are remarkable, Dean Winchester. I have never seen anything more beautiful in this universe than you.” 

Dean flushed what was probably a very deep red. “Jesus, Cas, you can’t say shit like that.”

“And why not?”

“Because,” Dean huffed. “Just- because.” It was a valid argument in Dean’s head but Cas was having none of it. 

“You are beautiful, whether you accept it or not it is the truth.”

“‘Kay, well, I don’t accept it,” he said petulantly. 

“You will someday,” Cas replied, and it sounded like a promise, not just that, a guarantee. 

“Not likely, I-”

But whatever he was about to say was lost to him because Cas’ hand was on his dick and it felt so damn good. Cas let out a gasp that sounded like wonder and Dean’s eyes were rolling back in his head as Cas began to explore his body, running his fingers along Dean’s chest, kissing at his thighs and stomach, letting his fingers slip through Dean’s hair. He couldn’t be anything but pliant under Cas’ steady hands as the angel learned what made Dean tick. 

Cas sucked at the skin between his ear and collarbone and Dean moaned, low and loud, and fuck. He clutched at Cas’ shoulders and when his hands met the fabric of the trench coat he pushed at it. “It’s been a minute,” Dean said, shoving at the thing again until Cas was forced to let up from Dean’s neck and banish the coat to the ground. 

Dean got to work on his shirt next, and goddammit why were so there many buttons? Cas, impatient as ever, simply reached up and ripped the shirt clean off his body, sending the offending buttons scattering across the room, and then he did the same for his pants and the boxers he wore underneath, and okay that was hot. Dean gulped at the sight of Cas, fully naked above him, his cock raised in clear want. He licked his lips, his hands skating over Cas’ thick thighs. 

“You’re built like a damn brick house,” he said when there wasn’t even a single inch of give where Dean pressed his fingertips into his skin. 

Cas grunted, returning his mouth to its post at Dean’s neck. “I have a lot of free time when you’re sleeping,” he said, by way of explanation. 

Dean’s hand moved to Cas’ dick and the angel bit down on Dean’s neck in surprise. Dean chuckled. “Well hello there, cowboy.” 

Dean pumped him a few times but he didn’t get far before Cas was letting out a low growl, sitting up, and hoisting Dean’s legs over his shoulders. Dean yelled out, caught off-guard but then Cas’ mouth was at his hole and all coherent thought left the building. Cas took his time, his tongue moving around his premium and then letting it dip inside, slowly opening him up. 

He barely registered Cas’ hand smacking onto the nightstand beside them and then rustling through the drawer until he let out a triumphant hum against Dean’s ass, because he was too busy trying to hold onto the bed, to Cas, to anything. A second later, a cap popped on what Dean now knew was lube, and then Cas’ mouth was gone and a finger was pushing into him. 

“Holy-” Dean gasped out. 

Cas pressed kisses against Dean’s inner thighs and then added more fingers gradually until Dean was positively bursting, and definitely babbling Cas’ name and a multitude of profanity. When Cas looked up at him through heavily lidded eyes, mouth slick with spit, and eyes looking like a rabid animal, Dean was pretty sure he was very close to coming already, and as if on cue his dick spilled out a little pre-come. Cas eyed it with desire and then his mouth was enveloping the tip of Dean’s cock and his fingers were still in his ass and he crooked them just so to hit his-

“Oh fuck, Cas!” Dean jerked under him and the tip of his dick hit the roof of Cas’ mouth but the angel only hummed and sucked him down further. “You ke- keep this up and I’ll c-come before you can fuck me,” he warned. 

Cas popped off him and then pulled his fingers free and Dean sank into the bed, panting as he tried to will his dick not to give out on him yet. Cas barely gave him a moment of reprieve though, because he sat up and began to stroke his own cock, slicking it up with lube before he tugged Dean impossibly closer and lined himself up. 

When Cas pushed just the tip in, Dean thought he might pass out, and when Cas slid in fully, he was pretty sure he did pass out for a second. He was feeling too much all at once but the last thing he wanted was for Cas to stop. His body was singing, his bones vibrating together in what had to be fucking music because there was a hallow hum coming from his entire being, well – he was pretty sure it was coming from him, but maybe it was coming from Cas- anyway, it didn’t matter. His eyes were squeezed shut so tightly he was seeing shapes behind his eyelids and his mouth was open to let out several gasps in quick succession. 

Cas was ruthless. Dean shouldn’t be surprised, he was an Angel of the Lord for fuck’s sake, and yet there was a power rushing through him that Dean didn’t need to be able to see to feel. It was a kind of power Dean had watched Cas wield many times before, when he lifted things too heavy for one singular human to lift, when he threw bad guys around warehouse’s, and pinned Dean against walls. It was angelic and there were no words to describe it because how do you even begin to lay out what a real angel is capable of?

Dean’s read the Bible, albeit not cover to cover but enough of it. There were enough times when he was bored in a motel room waiting for his Dad to come back from a hunt, when Sam was passed out on the bed next to him and he was tired of watching the same three shows air on repeat on the TV, that he’d picked up the complimentary copy of King James’ Bible (because there was always a Bible in these places, as if that would stop the hookers and criminals that shacked up in the joint from being hookers and criminals) and leafed through it. As Dean had learned first hand, the Bible was wrong about a lot of things (God actually caring about humanity being the biggest one that comes to mind) but it got a few things right too, namely the fact that Dean could sympathize with those damn shepherds who saw Angels of the Lord and were terrified. Angels were fucking scary, and Cas right now… Dean had never been more frightened and, as his dick helpfully reminded him, more turned on, in his life. 

The air was thick with pressure and Dean almost felt like he couldn’t breathe from the force that his heart was thudding against his chest with. His lungs felt like they were a sponge being methodically wrung out time after time after time, and he was pretty sure if Cas kept going on the way he was that he would burst. He couldn’t speak, he could barely think, but he was capable of one thing: prayer. 

“Cas!” He thought the angel’s name as fiercely as he could and the body above him jerked suddenly. White light flooded under Dean’s eyelids, he noted that it was also tinged blue and he vaguely realized it was Cas’ grace. 

“Dean,” Cas’ voice rumbled in the air, in Dean’s eardrums, in his ribcage, through his teeth, ringing in his head as if Cas hadn’t actually spoken out loud, and he felt his back arch off the bed as Cas hit that sensitive bulb inside him with ruthless precision. 

Dean shifted his hips so that another wave of pleasure washed over him, but Cas’ firm hands on his hips stopped any further movement. He could feel desperation in the way Cas enveloped him, in the harsh thrust of his hips, but Dean could also feel him holding back. This wasn’t all of what Cas was capable of doing, it was so much, and Dean felt like he was flying and falling and drowning all at once, but he knew there was more, he could have everything, and Cas wasn’t giving it to him. 

He found his voice, it came out of him in a rasp as if his vocal chords were made of gravel and his voice was the tire of a car crunching against it, “Cas, please.” He cracked open his eyes with effort and the sight that greeted him instantly stole his breath from him. Cas was fucking gorgeous. His eyes were glowing bright blue, his wings - fuck, his wings - were out behind him, so large they took up the whole room, the tips of feathers crushed into the ceiling, and they weren’t just shadows anymore, they were real, Dean could- he reached out a hesitant hand and his fingertips brushed lightly over a feather. 

Cas’ wing twitched, fluttering and curling close to his back in surprise, the grace in his eyes fading as he blinked. Dean swallowed hard, afraid he’d crossed a line and he opened his mouth to apologize, to say something that would probably have Dean shoving Cas away and retreating with his tail between his legs, but Cas beat him to it.

 “Don’t you dare.” His voice crackled like lightning and Dean shrank against the pillows. Don’t touch Cas there, got it. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered.

Cas’ expression was stony and Dean worried for one fleeting moment that he was about to be smited, but Cas shook his head, his hand coming to press down lightly on Dean’s chest.  “No, Dean. Don’t you dare, think about leaving this room or apologizing, I will not have you thinking you aren’t allowed to-” Cas broke off, his eyes flickered with grace again before he seemed to get himself under control, well, mentally maybe, but his voice came out in a husk, dark and rumbling like a stormcloud, “-to touch me.”

Dean didn’t have the brain power to realize that he’d probably prayed his thoughts to Cas, or the guy had been in his head which he also couldn’t bring himself to care about if that was the case. His heart was probably two seconds from beating out of his chest with all this feeling he’d been, well… feeling these past few days, so Cas’ words didn’t really register. “I-what?”

Cas leaned in close, and his still achingly hard cock shifted inside Dean, reminding him very quickly that Cas was very much into this. Cas’ lips were so close to Dean’s own and he couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking down to look at them and then back up at Cas’ face. “You can touch me,” Cas said, blue eyes hooded and shining with arousal, “anywhere you want.” 

“Oh,” Dean replied, somewhat blankly because he didn’t cross a line and Cas wasn’t angry and there was too much damn love and desire in Cas’ eyes right now that Dean didn’t really know what else to say. He tried to speak anyway, “I just- I thought, well, I didn’t know if you- I mean, your wings-” and he failed miserably. Cas was smiling at him and Dean didn’t understand why. “What?” he grunted, suddenly feeling like he was under a spotlight that was steadily burning a hole through his chest. He wasn’t used to this, to any of it, to being loved like he was worth it and being held in arms that felt safe, not having to worry about something bad coming through the doors at any given moment. It was overwhelming.

“Dean, no one has ever-” Cas huffed out a frustrated sigh, his wings fluttered behind him, flicking in what could only be a nervous twitch and knocking an empty beer bottle off Dean’s side table. “I have never been touched there before,” he said, and his cheeks were pink in the low glow of the bunker's lights. Dean had never really seen him blush before, he was always stoic and carefully impassive, but here, in Dean’s room where it was just the two of them, he was privy to the angel losing control. 

“Oh,” Dean said again, this time in fascination. “You mean… no one?”

“No one,” Cas confirmed. “Not even myself, and these wings… they are new. I mean, they are the same as my old ones, repaired, but it’s been so long since I could feel anything behind me other than a dull pain, and-” 

“You were in pain?” Dean instantly felt concern and anger flood through him. “This whole time? And you didn’t tell me?” 

Cas was looking at him like he’d just discovered the cutest kitten on the side of the road. Dean hated it and was warmed by it at the same time. “You are kind for worrying about me, Dean, but I was fine. It was manageable; I could ignore it most of the time.” Dean pouted at him and was about to argue more when Cas interrupted him before he could begin, “Now, as I was saying,” and Cas sent his hips forward reminding Dean that he still had an angel’s dick up his ass, “you took me by surprise, is all. But it was nice, and I- you can do it again.” 

Dean nodded through the pleasure that was shooting through him at Cas’ movement. “O-okay, if you’re sure.”

“I am certain that there is nothing I have ever been more sure about in all the eons of my life,” Cas replied roughly through a grunt as he burst colors behind Dean’s eyes with his next thrust. 

Dean’s hands came up to Cas’ back, fingers splaying over the base of his wings; Cas’ body twitched at the sensation and Dean watched his eyes roll back in his head, and then white light poured from his chest in a wave and burst a light in the room, plunging them into semi-darkness (the other light was still alive and well). Dean smirked at that and, encouraged, he raked his fingernails through the sparse feathers at his back. Cas’ dick actually pulsed inside him and the angel’s breath hitched in his throat, his head slumping to Dean’s shoulder with a shudder. 

“You okay?” Dean checked, although his body was buzzing with so much pleasure that he was barely able to get the syllables out in the right order to actually form words, so it sounded more like a jumble of letters. 

“Yes, Dean,” Cas gasped out, somehow understanding him. “Keep going.” 

Dean did. He gently pushed his fingers into feathers and moved upward from Cas’ back to his shoulders, where he felt up along the bones of his wings, the feathers there were less soft, but Dean could tell they were strong, probably prepared to repel bullets and knock away demons with a single flick. The whole time he marveled at the being in front of him. Cas was extraordinary. 

“Beautiful,” he found himself whispering, and Cas whined against him. 

He eventually couldn’t reach past a certain point, Cas’ wingspan was far too long for him to feel the whole thing, but Dean vowed to one day. Cas was a trembling mess above him, he’d stopped his movements, too focused on what Dean’s hands were doing no doubt, and he was now panting against Dean’s neck. The sound was electrifying and Dean’s own neglected dick was aching between Cas’ chest and his stomach. He moved just slightly, getting that friction he desperately craved, and sliding Cas in deeper at the same time. Cas was instantly alert, his body coiling and a growl coming out of his throat in the shape of Dean’s name. 

Cas pushed himself up, and Dean yelped when Cas hiked his legs up, driving into him with force. His calves brushed feathers, and Cas trembled again, his wings curling above them, almost like they were trying to form a canopy, and Dean briefly wondered what it would be like to have Cas like this where he could actually spread his wings. Cas settled into a steady pace above him, one hand was gripping onto Dean’s shoulder, the very shoulder that held a faded handprint, Cas’ hand fit there like a long lost glove, and the other hand was holding onto the headboard. Dean gave up on trying to hold onto Cas, allowing the angel to chase his own pleasure, because, let’s be real, Cas’ pleasure was Dean’s pleasure and he was totally okay with just being along for the ride. 

When Cas’ hand moved to his dick and pumped him in tandem with his thrusts, Dean was certain he was about to die. This was how it was going to end because there was no way he wasn’t going to explode from the sensation of it all. It was once again too much and not enough and Cas was tense where he struggled to control himself.

“Cas,” Dean gasped, barely finding enough air to speak. Cas was already looking at him, blue eyes alight with grace and love and all the other mushy crap you see in people’s eyes in movies and shit. Dean gulped, crying out when Cas nailed his prostate again. “You-” he shuddered as wave after wave of intense pleasure flowed through him. It took more effort than he’d care to admit to bring his hands up to Cas’ shoulders and push. 

Cas immediately stopped, tilting his head and looking Dean over as if he’d hurt him. “Dean? What is it?”

Dean tried to catch his breath but that quickly proved it was going to take too long, so he panted, “You don’t have to- Cas, you’re only- fuck.” Dean groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and then opening them again, finally managing to sound articulate he said, “You can let go.” 

“Let go?” Cas repeated. “Of… you?” 

And damn did he look disgruntled, and his hair was literally fucked six ways from Sunday, and there was a frown forming on his face and sadness was beginning to fill his eyes along with resignation, and Dean could not let whatever Cas was thinking progress; he was quickly reaching for him again. “No, Cas, no,” he reassured him. “Let go of whatever is holding you back. If you think you’re going to hurt me you won’t, you couldn’t, I’m not a porcelain doll, you know.” 

“I know that, Dean,” Cas said, but he still sounded wary. “I don’t think I would break you, and even if I did I could heal you.” 

“Then what is it?” 

Cas looked at him, and Dean could see a little fear creeping into his expression. “I’m scared of what my powers will do if I truly give in.” 

“What? Like you could blow up the bunker?” 

“Or the entire United States,” Cas supplied gravely. 

“Oh shit,” Dean huffed a laugh. “Well, I’m game to find out what’ll happen if you are.” 

“Dean!” C as chastised, but he was grinning despite himself. 

“What? Who’s to say you giving in wouldn’t have positive effects?” 

“I burst a lightbulb in here already,” Cas pointed out. 

Dean wasn’t in the mood to argue about this, he was already painfully close to an orgasm and he needed relief and he needed Cas and he needed them not to keep fucking talking while Cas was balls deep in him. “Okay so, just, try not to cause a nationwide power outage but- please, Cas, I- I want all of you.” And then he pulled Cas into a kiss before he could keep arguing and Dean took matters into his own hands and fucked himself on Cas’ dick until eventually Cas took back the reigns. 

From there on, Dean could only lie back and take it. Cas’ hand had returned to his dick and Dean threw his head back and moaned. It was an embarrassing sound, really, but Dean was not in a place to care. Cas was grunting above him and then something shifted in the air. There was a bright light and a warmth whispered over his skin and then settled in his head like it belonged there. He felt like he was standing outside during a summer evening, the breeze around him warm but cooler than the sun, the lap of water against a shoreline shushed in his ears and he could smell the distinct scent of a lake. He recognized this feeling, it was close to what he felt when Cas healed him: warm and calm and safe. He knew on a subconscious level that this was Cas’ grace in his head, his very essence wrapping around him, because consciously, he could still feel the way Cas was pushing in and out of him, pumping his cock in his fist, thumbing over his slit, murmuring into his skin in something that had to be Enochian. 

A low whine split the air; the other lightbulb burst into pieces. “Dean.” Cas’ voice sounded in his head, but it wasn’t the deep voice he was used to hearing come from the angel, from the mouth that had once belonged to Jimmy Novak, no this was different. It boomed and echoed inside Dean’s skull, like he wasn’t actually hearing someone speak more like listening to… thoughts. Cas’ voice didn’t have sound to it, not a human sound anyway, Dean wasn’t even sure his ears were supposed to be capable of hearing (was he even hearing?) the not-sound. “Dean, I need-” 

“Anything,” Dean thought before Cas could even finish his thought. He wanted to give Cas whatever he wanted, he didn’t care if Cas wanted to go fuck on the moon, Dean would let him take him anywhere, do anything to him, love him however he wanted because he couldn’t stop the feeling rising within him that told him to give himself over fully to the angel before him. 

“Dean,” Cas whimpered, “I need- I need to be with you, I need to- I need to be you.” 

Dean’s whole body thrummed with equal need. His dick in Cas’ hand pulsed, Cas’ own dick felt like it was splitting Dean in two with how much it had filled out, and he just wanted- he needed- he had to- “Yes.” Cas’ grace reached for him and Dean’s soul reached back, and then Cas was all encompassing. 

Dean had felt this feeling once before. It had burned and crashed through him, sliding up his chest and bursting from his mouth and eyes, leaving him shaking with power as a simmering pain seemed to take root and never let up. His thoughts had been jumbled back then, fighting a force he couldn’t see but he could feel, and he knew he wasn’t alone in his head. At first he could control his own body but then his hands had moved without him wanting them to and he was in a dark room. His boots had splashed through water and it only took him a moment to realize the water was rising, pressing him up to the ceiling before consuming him, and then he would wake up coughing, sucking in air on his hands and knees in puddles that continued to grow. 

This did not feel like that. There was a similarity, of course, in the way his body knew it was no longer a home to one consciousness but two, but Cas… Cas swept through him like a soothing balm. It was like he belonged there, like he’d always lived within him. He was somewhere Dean could finally keep him safe forever and he relaxed into it, letting out a sigh as he shivered with an unexpected dose of pleasure. 

“Dean.” Cas’ voice sounded in his head, or maybe the voice had come out of his own mouth, Dean was too far gone to know. 

“Castiel.” Dean answered. 

A squeeze to his dick and just the right pressure on his prostate had him suddenly crying out. His body shuddered and he vaguely registered something hot hitting his stomach over and over again in long spurts. He trembled so hard he was probably vibrating and he was definitely seeing stars or fireworks or maybe it was twelve hundred comets falling from the sky, he really wasn’t picky. Cas was wrapped so tightly around his mind, his body, his soul, and he felt it when Cas also reached his own climax. It zinged through Dean’s entire body and his dick gave one last pulse in excitement as Cas spilled inside him. 

Dean couldn’t seem to catch his breath. He tried, dammit he tried, but his head was spinning and his body felt like someone had popped a hole in him and sucked out all the air. Cas swirled around him, touching every part of him, every organ, every cell and atom and molecule. And then Dean felt him begin to retreat, and he tried to reach out for him but he could feel Cas’ determination force his efforts back. 

“Don’t go,” Dean begged. But it was too late, Dean was alone in his body again, sucking in air, and Cas was above him blinking at him through glossy blue eyes.

“Dean,” Cas immediately pulled out of him and moved to the side, there was a wariness to his voice. 

Dean was still trying to get his brain to catch up with what the fuck just happened. He and Cas fucked for one thing, but they’d done more than that. Dean had just let Cas- shit. The things you do in the throws of passion, huh? Dean thought, and then he laughed. Cas was still looking at him in abject horror. 

“Dean,” Cas said again, and his serious tone just set Dean off again until he was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. 

Cas was patient, he waited until Dean had calmed down and then Dean looked at him through watery eyes, tears of laughter flowing down his cheeks. “What?” he said through shaking gulps of air.

“I do not see what’s so amusing about what I just- Dean I am so sorry.” 

Dean’s smile dropped, and then he was sitting up on the bed, looking at Cas in confusion and probably a little heartbreak. “For what?”

Cas looked at him like he’d grown three heads and a tail. “Dean, I possessed you.” 

“Uh, yeah, in case you forgot, it kinda takes two to tango,” Dean replied, affronted. 

Cas still looked positively beside himself with worry. “But- Dean you don’t understand, I- I didn’t mean to do it. I just- I lost control and everything was so much and-” 

Dean reached for the angel and pulled them together in a bruising kiss. “Shut up,” he snapped against his mouth. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t agree to.” 

“Are you sure?” Cas asked, and he looked like a scared puppy. 

Dean cleared his throat and decided that maybe he should try to get better at honesty instead of deflection. “I mean, okay, I wasn’t really expecting it to happen. I didn’t really know what I was saying yes to but I just wanted you, and I wanted to be closer, and I guess that was enough for you to… well…” 

“Possess you.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah.”

“I won’t do it again,” Cas said earnestly. “I didn’t even know I was capable of possessing two people at once.” 

“Cas, I- wait, two people at once?” Dean said, confused. 

“Yes. It seems that I was still able to control this vessel and also be within you. I’ve never heard of dual possession with the same grace before and it’s possible that it’s something that’s come with my new powers.”

Dean was grinning at him, because Cas looked absolutely adorable with the way he was pouting in confusion. “That’s awesome. You’re awesome, Cas.” 

“I- thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” Dean beamed and kissed him again. “You don’t have to restrain yourself,” he said softly. “If I hadn’t wanted you in my head I wouldn’t have let you in.” 

“You weren’t necessarily consciously aware of what you were doing-” Cas began to argue but Dean silenced him. 

“Maybe because I’ve always made a conscious decision to push down my feelings for you. So when you were like this and you… wanted me… I couldn’t stop myself from wanting you too. Subconsciously, consciously, it doesn’t matter. I wanted you.” 

Cas finally seemed to get it. “Oh.” 

“Oh,” Dean agreed, brushing his thumb over the stubble along Cas’ jaw. “I want you, Cas. Probably always have.” 

“I see,” Cas said slowly. “You love me.”

Dean snapped his eyes to meet Cas’ and there was nothing but his own love reflecting in Cas’ eyes. “Yeah, Cas. I do. Don’t know when that happened but I really fucking do. You might piss me off a lot of the time, and you should really get better taste in music and cars and learn to stop putting yourself in danger all the time, but dammit I can’t function without you and I-I,” he fumbled on the words, swallowed, and then made himself say it, “I love you. So damn much. Probably too much.”

Cas was glowing in happiness. It was almost tangible. Part of Dean was afraid The Empty would come again and he darted his eyes around the room for a moment, but nothing appeared. Cas was still here and he was looking at Dean like he’d hung the damn moon and stars and told the ocean to go in and out with the tide and the sun to rise and set, and it was a lot. 

“I love you too,” Cas said. “More than I am capable of loving anything.”

Dean couldn’t look at him anymore, and his body was failing him due to exhaustion, so he tugged Cas in close and let the angel wrap him in his arms, cradling him under his chin. It was then that Dean realized he wanted to spend the rest of his life like this. He wanted to own a house with windows and a yard, and host a barbecue every summer, and catch a fish for dinner, and not feel that heavy weight of his gun against his back every day. He wanted a life. And maybe he’d never have two point five kids and a dog but he’d have Cas and that was what mattered.

“What do you think about retirement?” Dean asked into Cas’ chest.

He could feel Cas smile against his hair. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

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[morallygreyintrovert]

I have watched the Supernatural fully only once, I have rewatched seasons 1-8 a fair few times and episodes with Cas and Gabriel I have watched a dozens times but I have never watched season 15 or the last 2 episodes more than once.

Until today. I have not been able to bring myself to do it but as I have resumed writing my post season 15 fix-it fic, I wanted the end of the show fresh in my mind. So for research purposes I’m putting myself through the pain of watching ‘Carry On’ (I’m not or never will be able to bring myself to watch ‘Despair’ again. Okay maybe I’m being a bit dramatic but whatever)

Wish me luck.

[kathrynalexao3]

This seems appropriate to share today. Happy voting!

[destiel-wings]

You find a magical lamp on the floor, and you get 3 wishes! You can ask for anything except more wishes (genie only gets tricked into that one once...)

What would be your 3 wishes?

First of all, thank you for the great ask!

It's a tough one. I came up with a serious answer (boring but wise), and then I though about what else I would want to ask, were all my primary needs met already (more interesting), and this is the one I'll share:

1) to finally come to know every single truth and conspiracy that went on behind the scenes of the CW show Supernatural specifically regarding the whole destiel-gate (tapes™ included)

2) to live in a world where fanfiction is considered as a valid form of literature worthy of respect just like every other literary genre (1. for its sociological and anthropological value regardless of each piece's inner quality and 2. for the inner literary quality that not all but some of those fanworks have, equal to other published works that currently get to have recognition).

3) for karma to work at 80%, so that good things happened to good people and bad things to bad people, and everyone mostly got what they deserved. (note: I didn't say 100% because if that were the case we probably wouldn't have any form of art anymore and we need it as a spices to give life meaning)

[farenmaddox]

Fic title: the feather on the scale Fandom: Supernatural Rating: T Characters: Castiel, Anubis Warnings: Spoilers for the entire series and all that entails, mainly the end of s15. Summary: Jack's not the reason that Castiel is in Heaven at the end of the series. Castiel does that by himself.

Excerpt:

The only spot of mercy in all this, he thinks as the cold static of the Empty paints his skin, is that nothing the Empty can ever torment him with will outweigh how sure he is of what he’s just done. He gets to have that. Him. Castiel gets to go out when he’s happy, knowing the last thing he will ever do was so unquestionably good. That’s enough. More than enough. He deserves worse. The Empty is boiling around him, letting out a shriek in Meg’s voice that’s unpleasant, but it’s okay. Any moment now, it will end and it will be okay. Her face is suddenly in front of him, and it’s screaming. “What did you do, what did you do?” it’s screaming, wearing her face. “You taste disgusting!” Castiel closes his eyes and clings stubbornly to the feeling he intends to go out on. It’s… transcendental. It’s joy. He’s literally never felt it before, and there’s nothing the Empty can do about it. He loves Dean. No matter what the Empty does, it cannot take this from him. “You cheated!” it’s screaming in her voice. “You cheated, you cheated, you cheated!” “I have fulfilled the terms of our deal,” he says, smug, his eyes still closed. “What did you do, you cheating bastard?!” it yells, so close that there is an approximation of breath and spittle against his face. A hand falls on his arm, and something shifts, and the static cold is gone.

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