#why sam consoling dean every time cas is gone

[drulalovescas]

Gotta respect Supernatural for how it always committed to making Sam be like "Cas is fine Dean, really, please don't kill yourself I'mbegging" every time Cas went MIA

[expectingtofly]

January 24th

birthday boy dean, a little angst, then happy fluff, canon divergent bc the finale sucks, established dean/cas, human!cas, dean is loved <3

2.3k words

also on ao3

• January 24th, 2003 • 

“Happy birthday to me,” Dean muttered, cracking open another beer. The Impala’s heating whirred, fighting to keep the cold out, the radio playing a mixture of music and static. Through the windshield, he could see the dark exterior of the Walmart, out back of which he’d parked under a broken streetlight.

He glanced at his phone, but there were no new messages. Bobby had called him earlier to wish him a happy birthday, to ask how he was. Dean hadn’t told him that he was alone. His dad had left a week ago for a rugaru case in Indiana. Dean hadn’t heard from him since, which either meant the rugaru was dead and buried, or something bad had happened… but he didn’t want to consider that. More likely, his dad had gotten tied up in another case in the same area. When he’d call or text again, Dean didn't know. Not tonight, that was for sure. He didn’t know if his dad even remembered it was his birthday, or cared.

Grabbing the plastic Walmart bag in the passenger seat, he pulled out the pie he’d bought for this not-so special occasion—blueberry, because the store had run out of apple. He winced opening up the plastic container; he was pretty sure his right wrist was sprained, courtesy of getting thrown against the wall during the salt ‘n burn his dad had sent him on before leaving. He’d found the bones soon enough and disposed of the ghost, and today Bobby had clued him in to a possible poltergeist case a few miles away. He’d head there tomorrow. 

Tonight, it was his birthday. 

Which didn’t mean much, all things considered. Earlier, he’d considered going to a bar, trying to find someone for a quick hook-up, but he was tired and bruised from the fight with the ghost, and in all honesty, he just wanted to fucking sleep. The roar of trucks passing on the nearby highway and the cold leaking through the windows was going to make that difficult.

He glanced at his phone again, but it remained dark and silent. Fucking ‘course Sam wouldn’t text. He was angry at himself for even expecting him to. They hadn’t spoken since Sam left for college. Dean knew why. Knew Sam was probably still pissed off from his last fight with their dad, too angry at Dean for not coming with him, for not telling their dad off. As if that was even an option. As if Dean could’ve changed their dad’s mind, as if he was supposed to abandon their dad when he was searching for the thing that killed their mom. That’s what was important—killing the monster, not taking fucking college classes.

The pie was cold and a little stale, but he was too hungry to care. “Smoke on the Water” played on the radio, and he turned the volume up a little. The trees lining the parking lot shook in a gust of wind Dean could feel rattle the car, and a stray shopping cart creaked in an empty parking space nearby. Dean eyed it. If it drifted over here in the night and scratched his car…

His phone vibrated in the center console and he snatched it up. A text from Sammy. Happy birthday.

Dean stared at the words for a long moment. The last text he’d received from Sam was a simple, I made it to Stanford. That had been nearly 5 months ago. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he tried to decide how to reply. How was Sam getting along? What nerdy classes was he taking? Had he met anyone? Did he regret leaving? No, most likely, Sam had found whatever he was looking for and was enjoying his normal, apple pie life. Weirdo.

“Thanks,” he settled on, because if he asked Sam a question about college, he’d only be waiting all night for a response that might never come.

Tossing his phone aside, he opened another beer.

He must’ve dozed off sometime later because he suddenly jolted out of sleep to an empty parking lot and 11:45pm on the dash. Stiff from sitting in the front seat, he rubbed at his eyes and swore as he almost knocked over a stray beer bottle at his feet.

Turning off the Impala to not run down the battery, he got into the backseat and kept his coat on instead of folding it into a pillow, covered himself with the two blankets usually stored in the trunk. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the back of the front seats, trying to ignore how tight his throat felt. Fucking pathetic, getting worked up over nothing. What had he expected? Today was just another day, nothing special about it. No reason to treat his birthday any different than any other day, to expect anyone else to treat it any different.

He clenched his hands into fists until the stinging in his eyes receded. Soon his birthday would be past and he wouldn’t have to feel like such a pathetic loser. Well, he thought as he shut his eyes, at least not one alone on his birthday.

• January 24, 2021 •

Nothing like depressing memories to wake up to on your birthday, Dean thought, lying in bed, staring up at the bunker ceiling. That night in 2003 was still fresh in his memory. He remembered waking up stiff and half-frozen the next morning, driving to another case, one more year under his belt. That was probably the last year he attempted to celebrate his birthday—if drinking shitty beer in an empty parking lot could be considered much of a celebration.

He always remembered the day, even if he tried to ignore it, and so did Sam, and Bobby, when the guy was alive. But apocalypses and cases always took first priority, so any celebrating went on the back burner. He wasn’t one much for parties and gifts anyway.

Whispering and footsteps sounded in the hallway outside his bedroom door and he glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand. 8:16am. Way too early for anyone to be wandering around. Cas hadn’t been in bed next to him when he woke, which was strangely disconcerting. He’d gotten so used to waking up to Cas in the few recent weeks they’d been together. Miracle wasn’t in the room either, asleep on his dog bed like he usually was, and for a moment, in the quiet of his bedroom, Dean felt the terrible loneliness of that night 18 years ago.

That was a long time ago, he told himself, trying to push the gloom aside. For the first time in a while, he was cautiously hopeful that this birthday would be a good one—or, at least, not a miserable one. Every day recently had been a good day—a phenomenon Dean was still getting used to. Chuck was dead, Cas was alive, his whole family was together. It didn’t matter if his birthday was celebrated, if anyone even remembered it was his birthday or not. He was more than lucky with what he had now. What more could he ask for?

All the same, his birthday didn’t exactly scream fun times and good memories, and he kinda wished the day would just be over with. As he lay there, willing himself to get up, his bedroom door cracked open, and he looked over to see Cas peeking inside. 

“Oh,” Cas said, catching his eye. He stepped further into the room. “I was hoping you were still asleep.”

“Nope.” Dean propped himself up on one elbow and rubbed at his eyes. “Just woke up.”

Shutting the door, Cas came over and crawled into bed next to him. Dean lay back down to wrap him in his arms, and Cas kissed the side of his neck, then under his jaw, then his cheek, and finally propped himself up to look Dean in the eyes with a soft smile. Despite the heavy weight that had settled on him with the memories of his past birthdays, Dean found himself smiling back. 

Leaning forward, Cas kissed him. “Happy birthday,” he said.

So, Cas remembered. “Yeah, guess it’s that day again,” Dean said. He glanced at the doorway. “How long you been up?”

“Not too long.” Cas studied him and Dean nearly squirmed under his gaze. Even without his grace, Cas still managed to make him feel like his soul was on display. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, fine. Just, uh, just thinking.” He touched a powdery white splotch on Cas’ t-shirt, a black AC/DC shirt that used to be his. “This flour or cocaine?”

Cas gave him a look. “Flour." He kissed Dean again, then pulled away too soon. "Are you ready to get up?”

“Yeah, was about to. Why? Were you cooking?”

“Um, maybe.” Dean raised an eyebrow. “You should come to the kitchen. There’s, uh, something you need to see.”

“What?”

“Just, come on.” Standing, he tugged on Dean’s hand, urging him out of bed.

Curious, Dean got up and let him lead him down the bunker hallway—Cas hadn’t even let him get dressed, insisting it was urgent. As they neared the kitchen, he caught the smell of coffee and baked goods, and he heard laughter, Jack’s, and someone quietly shushing him, Sam.

“What’s going on?” he asked, but Cas only said,

“You’ll see.” He paused before the doorway to the kitchen and gestured. “You go in first.”

Still unsure of what he was gonna be faced with, Dean braced himself before entering the room.

Darkness... then Jack leapt out from behind the kitchen island as Sam flicked on the lights.

“Surprise!” Jack shouted, and Dean was bombarded with both Miracle racing over and running laps around his feet and Jack wrapping his arms around him in a hug.

“Fuck—woah.” Dean hugged Jack back and looked around the room. Balloons were tied to the kitchen island, which was covered with a pie, bacon, a breakfast casserole, and wrapped gifts. 

“Happy birthday!” Jack said, pulling back to meet his eyes. “Were you surprised?”

“Yeah, shit.” Dean looked back at Sam and Cas, who were smiling almost as big as Jack. “I didn’t know you guys were gonna do all this.” 

“Cas and I made apple pie,” Jack said, letting go of Dean to point to the gifts. “And these are for you.”

“You made pie?” Dean asked Cas. “And didn’t burn down the kitchen?”

“Sam helped,” Cas admitted. 

Coming forward, Sam clapped Dean on the back. “Happy 70th birthday,” he joked, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Funny.” But he pulled Sam into a hug. Sam let out a noise of surprise, then hugged him back. 

Shit, they really had remembered, and gone above and beyond. Letting go of Sam, Dean cleared his throat. “This is, uh, this is really nice.” Damned if he didn’t get a little teary-eyed, though he would’ve denied it if anyone called him out.

Cas made him sit down at the table and served him a heaping serving of casserole, set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. Sam lit candles on the pie and carried it over to the table as he, Cas, and Jack sang a horribly off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday.” Dean rolled his eyes, but he blew out the candles and took the card Jack handed him. 

“So this is what you were hiding,” he said, it dawning on him. Yesterday, he had walked into the library and startled Jack, who’d sprawled his upper half over the table, saying, “Don’t look! It’s a surprise.”

He looked up at Cas. “And this is why you were asking me all those damn questions. You were asking for gift ideas?” A week ago, Cas had hounded him with a series of vague questions that sounded suspiciously like the ones he’d been asked around Christmas, leading to several gifts under the tree.

“Dude, you didn’t think we’d actually forget your birthday, did you?” Sam asked, sitting down across from him. 

In hindsight, he guessed he should’ve realized they were planning something, but it’d been a long time since his birthday meant anything more than a few beers and takeout. “No, uh. Just didn’t expect all this.”

“You deserve it,” Cas said, sitting next to him, sincere as always. 

His face warming a little, Dean opened the card Jack had given him, smiling at the scrawled words in crayon—they really needed to work on the kid’s spelling. Sam and Cas had signed it too, and he smiled at the you’re a dinosaur now from Sam, and the I love you Cas had written, accompanied by a small red heart. 

“Thanks,” he said, looking up. “For, uh, for all of this.”

“‘Course,” Sam said. Reaching over, Cas took his hand, and Dean squeezed his hand tightly before kissing him. Fuck, his eyes were stinging again—but it was his birthday, he should get a free pass.

“Try the pie!” Jack told him as he tried to discreetly thumb at the wetness in the corner of his eye. “Cas and I improvised with the recipe.”

Against all odds, the pie was pretty great, and Dean slipped food to Miracle sitting at his feet to hide how he couldn’t stop smiling.

Cas knocked their knees together under the table, then leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Happy?” he asked, pulling back to look at him.

“Yeah,” Dean said, looking around the crowded table, at the warm food, at Sam and Jack. He met Cas’ eyes and smiled. “Really happy.”

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[pallasperilous]

So It Goes

So, forgive me this indulgence as somebody who does not ordinarily write meta; a friend asked me why I thought that the manner of Dean’s death in 15x20 is an incredibly lovely and mature writing choice. I think it is so, for reasons that also happen to explain why so many fans of the show fucking loathe it.

There is some Vonnegut at the end. Hang in for that. 

PART ONE: 

Chuck's story direction has always made sure that the boys, if they died, did so in a mega intense or glorious fashion (minus the *Mystery Spot* meddling by Gabriel, and those weren't meant to be permadeaths). Those deaths were awesome heroic television deaths that FED the story rather than ending it. Every time, the surviving brother would do some extremely stupid and destabilizing shit to bring the other back, often feeding an entire new cycle of death and retrieval. 

If he *didn't* (cf: Sam in the Cage, Dean in Purgatory), it caused a massive rift between them, which then fed *further* wild-ass decisions. The dudes were in the dictionary under 'codependency'. People knew that killing or capturing one of them meant the other wasn't far behind. 

Chuck's endgame for Sam and Dean was literally to *die fighting God.* How much more heroically wanky can you get?

But they beat him. They’re free. Jack takes over, and makes it clear that he isn’t going to be a God who meddles or directs; he’s not going to be their in-house writer. He’s just going to set things back where they belong, reform the systems that Chuck established out of ego or cruelty, and then integrate himself with the universe so that anything that happens to it…happens to him, too. He’s won’t be a character anymore. He’s a setting.

PART TWO: 

So, minus Chuck, with Jack’s goodbye and Castiel’s sacrifice…the boys get to experience plain old…real life. Tuesday! Drinking beer, kicking the laundry machine, filling out shitty job applications, enjoying the little consolations of food and pets and free time. (I think that messy room and dog-bonding and staring into the internet bespeaks a Dean who is really doing his goddamn best to not implode with grief as he has in the past, but to try to thrive in the face of deep grieving). 

When Sam expresses grief over losing Cas, Dean's response is basically: yeah, it sucks. But our job, that our loved ones sacrificed for us to have a shot at… is to stop trying to reverse all of our losses, and to learn to live with them, like normal people have to. That’s the price of the gift they’ve been given — accepting whatever real life deals them.

They can literally do anything they want; circumstances won’t herd them into Season 16. What’s the first thing Dean really does, after this little break? 

He hears “missing kids, dead parents” and he dives right back in. He opens his Dad’s goddamn notebook for the info. He’s immediately choosing to go right back to where they started, for the sake of helping other people. He books them to fight some of the very first basic bitch monsters he and Sam dealt with. That is unforced 100% Dean’s choice. 

(Sam has demonstrated an ability to not take on the responsibility of eliminating all monster-based misfortunes in the world and pursue a life beyond just hunting, so long as Dean has been off the map…but Dean’s one attempt to take a job and settle down with Lisa ended up being so obviously hollow that Castiel felt SO BAD he took time off from RUNNING HEAVEN to rescue Sam FOR DEAN.)

PART THREE: 

Remember Chuck's little fit earlier where Dean wound up getting his teeth drilled etc? That bad luck was being magnified by Chuck being pissed at them, but the brothers truly did find themselves facing ordinary people shit they had never really had to deal with. It drove the point home -- Sam and Dean had been exempt, this whole time, from the petty little ways that failure and misfortune work in the normal world. That extended to their hunting, too — they found out that there were people they could fail to save, despite their best effort. People who, according to the rules they’d been operating under, should have been savable. 

So we see this hunt — which is really rough and tumble. They’re still doing amazingly considering how outnumbered they are, but this was some of the most intentionally graceless fight choreography I remember seeing on the show. They seriously almost lose the fight, and Sam kills that last vamp pestering Dean with the kind of “whew!” last minute heroics we’ve come to expect from the show.

And Dean realizes: something has gone wrong. Something that no pulp TV action genre writer would ever, ever draft for a hero’s death. There was some scary rebar sticking out and Dean got shoved into it in the scuffle and it hath Fucked Him Up. It’s the kind of shit that happens on construction sites. It’s an accident. It’s a random misfortune. It has nothing to do with his heroism or skill or the cleverness or powerfulness of his opponents. It just happens.

Under show rules, here is what would happen next: Castiel would heal him. Jack would heal him. Sam would call an ambulance and Dean would be DOA and Sam would whip out his cellphone and call Rowena or a crossroads demon or Sister Jo or research a spell and we’d be off and rolling for Season 16.

But Dean says: Don’t do that.

Because that is what Chuck would write.

Dean realizes — this is exactly the world they have fought to exist in. A world that is randomly wonderful, randomly shitty. This happened because he chose to be here. Nobody made them pursue this hunt. Is he surprised that it happened so soon, that he ended up having so little time to give unscripted life a shot? Yes, to the point that he clearly thinks it’s honestly kinda funny. Cuz who’d write it like that? Nobody! He likes the part that he gets to die on a hunt, standing up, in his boots — that’s what he’s always seen for himself. Not in a bad way, not in a “killing machine” or a “daddy’s little soldier” way, but because it means he kept fighting for other people up to the last second. He’s upset that Sam is so upset — he’s more worried about calming Sam and reassuring him than he is about how cool his death is gonna look on IMDB, or how they can cheat circumstance to buy him more time. 

Instead of buying more time, at the expense of living like real people instead of TV characters…he decides to make the most of this one moment. He tells Sam how much he loves him. He tells Sam that Sam will be okay; he’s going to go live a whole life on whatever terms he and the universe can work out together, and the fact that Dean isn’t there is gonna be a painful but acceptable part of those terms. Dean says: don’t go running off trying to change this. Just spend this last little bit of time with me, while the universe does its thing. That’s what they do.

TL;DR — this death is fucking awesome because Chuck would absolutely fucking hate it. He wanted Sam and Dean to go down in a ball of fire together, fighting their coolest foe ever, CHUCK! 

Instead: Dean dies like a normal person, from an accident bred under circumstances that he chose for himself. Chuck loses half his prize, not to some other big bad, but to a damn piece of construction material on a mundane job.  And Dean gets to die in a way that unshackles Sam’s fate from his own. Like Castiel did for him, he gets to say: I love you. This is enough for me. Go live your life.

He finally gets to drop his kid back off at Stanford.

Chuck would be so pissed.

And we, the viewers of Supernatural...well, hell, we’re ultimately fans of Chuck’s writing, aren’t we? So of course something so unprecedented, so un-heroic or badass, so mundane and intimate and random...of course it shocks. Because that’s not the show we’ve been watching!! But isn’t that the point? The author is dead. We can put aside his tastes, and we can look at Dean’s death, and say the words of Dean’s actual favorite author, Kurt Vonnegut --  So it goes.

[bidoldaccount]

Erase All The Downsides - FOUR

Word count: 1,665

Tags: Anxiety; subspace; emotional hurt/comfort

Intro ; ONE ; TWO ; THREE

It ruins him.

Seeing her absolutely ruins him.

She lives behind his eyes. She takes up full residence in his dreams, unyielding on his brain. He finds himself driving by the shelter more times than he cares to admit, trying to catch a glimpse of her, if only for a second. It makes his skin itch when he doesn't. There's a pack of Peach gum sitting in his center console but he doesn't know which brand she gets, so they all smell slightly off. His brain hasn't been this mangled since those first few months.

When she told him that she couldn't handle being alone anymore, he didn't know what to do. He had been defensive where he should have been reassuring, he was cold where he should have been accepting, he was hurt where he should have been comforting. He was too stubborn to fight when she ended it. She was right. He knows that now. He left her messages unread for weeks before calling her when the need hit him. It wasn't fair, it was her holding their relationship together for those last few weeks.

When she was gone, the itch in his skin got so bad he was physically scratching at his arms. He couldn't leave the house without having a panic attack, he spent the entire next tour cooped up in his hotel room, trying to replicate the reassuring weight of her body with anything he could find. Most nights, Benny had to lay with him until he fell asleep otherwise he'd stay up all night scratching and crying. It was two weeks into his tour when he slept with someone else. He drank until he forgot why he was so sad, and when he woke up the world crashed down a little harder. He locked himself in the bathroom and sat in the shower for hours until the girl was gone and the hotel staff let Benny and Charlie into his room. After that, it felt impossible to call her.

Having her so far out of reach grates on his nerves for days. He refuses to touch Lisa and he snaps at everyone, it feels like backtracking.

He breaks when he shoves Sam. They were arguing over something or another, he can't even remember what. He was being combative because he could barely see in front of him with how blurry the anxiety was making his vision. Sam said something and Dean pushed him. He barely had time to register what he did before Benny was pulling him away.

"Dude, what the hell is going on?" Despite his language, his voice is soft and concerned. Dean shakes his head, his knees shaking. There was so much emotion crawling through his brain that he almost felt numb. Benny called his name over and over as he got into his car. He shouldn't be driving, he's too on edge, but it's all muscle memory at this point, and he can't stop once he has started.

It feels like a longshot, and if he is wrong he just might crack completely, but he pulls into the apartment complex with practiced ease. His feet carry him in a shuffle down the path, his fingers twitching on their own accord. He knocks on the door with rushed fervor, and nearly falls to his knees when it swings open and she's standing there, in front of him.

"Dean?" Castiel's voice is so soft and reassuring that it finally does send him to his knees. The contact with the ground hurts, but he barely feels it behind the relief that washes over him. This feels pathetic, utterly and truly pathetic, but he can't find it in himself to care because he feels lost and Cas is staring down at him.

"I'm sorry. I know it's been years and- and I don't even know if you're seeing someone, and I'm seeing someone, but I can't.... I can't... Please," he's crying and he can't stop.

"Come here, come inside," she lifts him from the ground and supports him as he stumbles forward.

"I'm having too much anxiety and I can't control it, I can't stop it!" He can't breathe.

"Alright, sweetheart, I hear you," she shushes him gently as she guides him over to the couch. "You sit and I'll be right back." He wants to whine and refuse, but most of all, he wants to be good. He sits down on her sofa, plush beneath him, and relaxed against it as best he can while she leaves the room. His stomach jumps like it wants to follow her, but he sits still. She is only gone for less than a minute before she is walking back into the room with a familiar looking weighted blanket. She set it on the couch, moved one of the pillows onto the floor, and gestured him down.

"On your knees, honey," Dean wants to roll his eyes back with a mix of pleasure and relief, but he settles for a tiny whimper as he slips down to the floor, settling his knees on the pillow. He looks up at her with wide eyes, waiting for her next instruction. She sits down in front of him, spreading her legs around him. The weighted blanket goes over his shoulders, draping down around him in a constant weight that works to ground him. Castiel sits back on the couch, her eyes trained on him.

"Lie down, honey," she pats her thigh and the strings are cut. He drops his head onto her thigh, his breath leaving him in one solid exhale. "You just sit there and breathe for me, okay? There is absolutely nothing else you need to do except sit here and be my good boy," her hands were in his hair, scratching gently at his scalp. A soft whine leaves him before he can stop it, he wiggles a bit to get comfortable, then his eyes close and it's easy to focus on her touch. The smell of citrus and firewood wraps around him almost as heavy and comforting as the blanket.

He doesn't remember falling asleep but when he opens his eyes, it's dark outside. Castiel is still sitting there, her hands still in his hair, her gaze focused on the tv. He shifts slowly, trying not to think about how numb his legs feel.

"You back with me?" She asks softly, all of her attention back on him. He blinks a few times, his head heavy. "Come up here, stretch your legs out," she scoots forward on the couch, moving the blanket off of him so it's easier to help him up. He wobbles a bit, unsteady, but her hands guide him down to the couch. She makes him bend his legs up and down, gently massaging them.

"Thank you," his voice is wrecked from sleep.

"Of course," she takes her hands off of him and he tries not to look too desperate when he reaches for her again. She takes his hand and allows him to link their fingers together as he slumps slightly, regaining his bearings.

"Cas," saying her name sends a warm thrill through his gut. "I'm really trying not to want you but It's getting really hard. I need you to tell me if you want me to leave or you don't want me too, because if you don't, I'll figure something out. I just can't keep pretending that I don't need you, that I don't miss you. I'll understand if it's been too long, or if you have someone else, I just have to try or I think I'll explode," he's rambling and he can't stop, the jitter is back in his bones.

"Dean, of course I want you. I've always wanted you, I just needed you to be as involved as I was. But, honey, it's you that has someone, not me," she said with a little, sympathetic, tilt of her head.

"I can't be with Lisa regardless of whether you take me back or not," he sighed, tilting his head down a bit. "she needs something that I can't give her and I need something she can't give me. It's too hard."

"I understand. I'll be here, Dean, whenever you're ready," she ran her thumb over the back of his hand and he fell boneless into the couch at her words.

"I'm so sorry, Cas, I shouldn't have neglected our relationship like I did. I was distracted and arrogant, and I stupidly thought that you'd always be there. You were always there for me and I was never there for you," he whispered, meeting her thumb with his own, gently pressing them together.

"That's not true, Dean," Cas said, sliding the smallest bit towards him on the couch. "You helped me through a lot of my depression, you were with me through all of my family drama, I wouldn't have made it out of that as unscathed without you there. It was just those last few months, when the paranoia of having a rockstar boyfriend doing God knows what, God knows where, with God knows who, started to creep up. I trusted you 100% but it's hard not to think about the possibilities," she said.

"I know, I want you to know that I never did anything with anyone while we were together. I wouldn't do that," Dean assured.

"I know," Cas nodded with a soft smile. "It was the perfect storm of distance, time, and arguments. I don't think either of us are to blame, but I still tear myself apart every once in a while for ending it so rash," she said.

"It's okay now," Dean whispered, looking down at their hands. "It'll be okay now." Cas leaned over their hands and pressed her forehead to his shoulder. She wouldn't do anything while Dean was still in a relationship, and he knew that. So, he settled for resting his temple on her head, closing his eyes as she breathed against his arm.

[milfjensenackles]

to purgatory and back: chapter 4 (final chapter!!)

1.7k works | read it on ao3

Dean didn’t know what he felt. He felt numb. He couldn’t even bring himself to cry. Cas was gone. Again.

Dean pushed himself from the ground where he had very roughly landed only a few short minutes ago. When Cas pushed him away. When Cas left him.

Dean was roughly shaken from his racing thoughts by the soft vibrating that emanated from his forearm. Oh, shit. He’d almost forgotten about Benny.

Slicing a thin line down his arm, he released the essence that was his friend while speaking the final few lines of the incantation. Benny appeared before him again, with a telltale smirk on his face that told Dean he saw everything.

“Wanna talk about it?,” Benny said.

Dean rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Well, I am sorry that your friend didn’t make it. He was a good fighter and I know how much he meant to you.”

Dean scoffed. “You never liked him.”

“You wanna know the truth?” Benny asked, looking away from Dean, “I was jealous of him.”

“Jealous? You?”

Benny chuckled at Dean’s reaction. “You’re a special guy, Dean Winchester. Castiel is lucky to have you.”

Dean looked down, hiding the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes at the mention of Cas’ name. Benny reached out, pulling Dean into a hug. Dean understood what Benny was trying to tell him. Maybe in another life, it could have been himself and the vampire against the world. But for now… they had to go their separate ways.

Dean coughed, awkwardly breaking off the embrace. “Take care of yourself, Benny.”

“You too, Winchester.”

Benny tipped his hat to Dean and began his journey in the opposite direction. Dean could only stand and watch, unable to move.

-

It had been five weeks since Dean was forced to leave Cas behind. He finally met back up with Sam, which led to a tearful reunion and many long talks catching each other up on the past year. Dean left out the part where he fucked a literal vampire, for Sam’s sake.

Dean was doing okay. Waking up in a filthy motel bed is miles better than cold Purgatory dirt. He and Sam were working cases again, which allowed for some distraction from the ache in his chest whenever he thought of Cas.

He saw Cas everywhere. Hallucinations, or apparitions of some sort, haunting his every waking hour. He didn’t know if he was being fucked with or if his brain was truly this fucked up. The reminders of his lost friend were painful enough that Dean barely wanted to get out of bed in the morning. The only thing that kept him motivated was knowing that Cas would want him to move on.

Sam learned very soon after Dean’s reappearance that Cas was a sore subject. Dean was driving when Sam finally brought it up, trapped by his own car so that he could no longer avoid the discussion.

“What happened to Cas, Dean?”

Dean groaned. “I told you. He didn’t make it out of Purgatory.”

“Yeah, but why not? Why don’t we try to get him out?” Sam asked.

Dean slammed his palm into the steering wheel before shouting out, “Sam. Leave it.”

Sam held his hands up in surrender, turning to look out the window as they continued down the highway toward their next case.

When they finally reached the motel a painfully silent five hours later, Dean went straight to the bathroom, in part to avoid his brother but also providing him the first chance he’s had all day to brush his teeth. Indoor plumbing is something he would never take for granted again after his stint in Purgatory.

Dean leaned over the sink to splash some water in his face. He looked up and into the eyes of his own reflection but was startled when he noticed someone behind him.

No.

It couldn’t be.

He screwed his eyes shut. It’s not real. He’s not real. He opened them again. Cas was still there. Dean turned around slowly, jaw set with anticipation.

Cas was still there. Standing right in front of him.

Cas knit his eyebrows together, staring right through Dean as he tilted his head to the side. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean reached out to touch Cas, before quickly dropping his hand to his side again. “Cas? Is that really you?”

Cas stared at Dean’s fallen hand for a moment. “It’s me.”

Dean ran his hand through his hair. “I- What- I mean… how?”

“I do not know.”

Once Cas had a chance to shower and shave, he walked out of the bathroom with a flourish, showing off his clean clothing. Dean’s pants became uncomfortably tight at the sight, and he shifted in his seat in order to hide it from Cas.

After a moment of silence, Dean stood up and enveloped Cas in a hug, wrapping both arms around the angel’s broad shoulders. Cas froze, surprised by the sudden display of affection.

Dean pulled back after a moment, elated that Cas was finally home, before remembering that he was still pissed.

“Cas, why the fuck did you do that? Why the fuck did you kiss me and then ditch me for Purgatory? You could have died,” Dean said, his voice trembling with anger. “I wanted to die after I left you behind. Do you get that? I didn’t want to be on this Earth anymore if it meant you were gone.”

Sam looked between the two of them from his chair, recognizing that this was something he didn’t want to be around for. “I’m… gonna go get some dinner,” he said quickly, before letting himself out of the room.

Cas stood across from Dean, hands pressed into his thighs. The angel’s eyebrows shot up, shocked by Dean’s sudden outburst. “I did not realize my absence would impact you so severely, Dean. I apologize. If it is any consolation, I feel the same way,” Cas said, sympathy etched into his features.

Dean’s brain stuttered to a halt. Cas felt the same way? About Dean? “Cas…”

“I stayed in Purgatory because I felt like I had a debt to pay. I no longer felt like I deserved to be here, to be in your company. I wanted to prove that I have a purpose other than destruction and pain,” Cas said, sighing. “I understand now that while I have done terrible things, I can choose to do better from now on. I cannot change what I have done, but I can change the future.”

Cas looked into Dean’s eyes and firmly placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know why I am so willing to accept that everything happens for a reason, but I am not willing to recognize that I am also here for a reason. I think my reason is you, Dean.”

Dean felt himself choke. “You-” He stuttered, “You can’t just say shit like that, Cas.”

“Why not, Dean? I have long denied myself the pleasure of telling you the truth. I no longer need to, so I plan to tell you how much you mean to me every single day, as long as I’m granted the privilege of being in your life,” Cas said, smiling like Dean himself was the one who created the entire universe. There’s something about an age-old creature that’s seen just about everything finding Dean the most fascinating individual he’s ever met. Dean felt his heart drop into his stomach at the idea.

Smiling softly, Dean rubbed the back of his neck with his palm, both in discomfort as well as the need to stop himself from reaching out to touch Cas. They’ve cuddled, they’ve kissed, but Dean still doesn’t know where they stand.

“What are we, man?,” he blurted.

Cas arched an eyebrow. “Whatever you want us to be, Dean.”

Dean let out a shaky breath at that, leaning forward into Cas’ space. He reached out slowly, pressing both hands into Cas’ forearms, then his biceps, before making his way up to cup Cas’ face gently. Cas followed suit, surrounding Dean’s fingers with his own. Dean watched as Cas’ lips fell open, cataloguing every movement of the angel’s face. Last time, Dean was caught off guard. This time, he was going to remember every second.

Both of them moved at the same time, capturing each other’s lips in a sweet, soft kiss that lasted only a second before they pulled away, overwhelmed. Dean grinned, embarrassed, before pulling Cas back in. What started as a chaste kiss slowly became more urgent, with Dean sliding his tongue against Cas’ bottom lip and eliciting a loud groan from the angel. The noises Cas was making only served to make Dean go even more insane, if that was possible. He grabbed Cas by the hips, pushing him slowly until they hit the wall behind them. Dean paused for a moment before leaning into Cas, their bodies flush against one another. The back of Cas’ head hit the wall, and Dean took advantage of the opportunity to suck as many bruises as he could manage into the side of Castiel’s neck.

“Dean, Sam told me that you should not sleep with someone you are interested in until at least the third date. Maybe we should take this slowly,” Cas stated very seriously.

Dean snorted. “Screw slowly, dude. We’ve known each other how many years now? We’re far past slowly at this point.”

“Okay,” Cas said, smirking. He pushed Dean back, grabbing him by the hand, and walked backwards toward Dean’s bed. Cas pulled Dean on top of him, and Dean let him.

-

“Dean?”

Dean was still groggy, but he opened his eyes to find Sam staring at him sheepishly from foot of his bed. He looked over to the other side of his bed to see a person-shaped lump taking up a large chunk of space. He smiled, thinking back to the previous night, before rubbing his eyes and looking back to his brother.

“Sam? When did you get back?” Dean said.

“I got another room for the night. Thought it might be best for everyone.”

Dean grinned. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to enjoy the rest of the morning with my boyfriend.”

Cas stirred next to him, apparently disturbed by the conversation. His face peeked out from under the covers. “Good morning, Sam.”

“Morning, Cas,” Sam said, with the air of a man who was trying to be as normal as possible about his brother and his best friend sleeping together. “Well. I’ll leave you to it.”

Once Sam closed the door, Cas smiled at Dean. “I’m your boyfriend?”

“I mean, I… if you want, I don’t want to force anything on you, I wasn’t trying to-“

Cas pressed a finger to Dean’s lips. “Dean, I would be honored to be your boyfriend.”

“Oh, well. Good. I’m glad.” Dean leaned in to kiss Cas, and Cas happily obliged.

Tags: @professorerudite

[winchestergirl23]

Demon Dean Part 2

--Dean’s going to be our brother again--

Pairings: Dean x sister!reader, Sam x sister!reader

Warnings: Angst, demon Dean.

Summary: This is part two of the Demon Dean series. Read Part one here. Dean escapes the dungeon and tries to kill the reader.

A/N/: I know it’s been a while since part 1. I’ll try and get out as many fics as possible whenever I find the time. As always, I love you guys. Y’all are the best!

----

You sigh and turn around, trying to get comfortable. Nothing you do seems to work. You've been tossing and turning for over an hour. Deciding to finally give up, you get up. You walk into the kitchen for a glass of water and find a note on the refrigerator. 

“Gone to get more blood. DO NOT go into the dungeon alone.” 

Sighing, you set down the glass and stroll around the bunker. You find yourself facing Dean’s room. You open the door and walk in, turning on the light. On the table lies an old half-eaten slice of pie. You smile sadly and pick it up. A large bound book next to it catches your eye. It was a scrapbook of pictures that you and Sam had put together for Dean’s birthday. You sit down on his bed, turning the pages. You can feel tears fall as you go through the memories it contains. You shut the book with a large sob and wipe off your tears. 

I must see Dean. But Sammy said not to… I will see him!

Sam had stepped out to get more blood and had forbidden you from going into the dungeon alone. At the moment, all you can think about is seeing your older brother again. Determined, you stride into the dungeon. 

Crap!

The sight that greets you spends chills down your spine. The chair in the dungeon lies empty. Fear grips your heart and you can feel panic starting to set in. Dean has not yet been cured. He's capable of doing anything right now. 

The control room. Lock him in the bunker and hide!

Keeping a vigilant lookout, you dart towards the drawer where the keys are kept. Collecting the key bunch, you start to run towards the control room. A mocking voice from the corridor stops you.

“Sammy? Y/N?  Don’t you want to hang out with your big brother? Spend a little quality time? Come on out guys.”

He’s heading for our rooms.

As noiselessly as you can, you trudge across the rooms and sprint towards the control room. Your fingers tremble as you try unlocking your phone to dial Sam. You balance the phone on your shoulder and cheek and unlock the control room. 

“Sammy, he escaped the dungeon. He’s somewhere in the bunker. I’m locking the place down.” you pant, flipping a large switch. 

The siren alarm begins to sound almost instantly as the lights go off, leaving the bunker under the red hue of the emergency lights. You can hear Dean jeering as you step out and hide behind a door. 

"Smart, Y/N! Locking the place down. Doors won’t open. I get it. But here’s the thing: I don’t want to leave! Not ‘til I find you, baby sister! Oh yeah! I know it’s just you and me." 

Crap! The note Sammy left me. He must’ve seen it.

You wait with bated breathe knowing that Dean will show any second now. Flooded with adrenaline, you feel your heart hammering against your chest. Sweat drenches your skin and the sirens vibrate against your ears. You force your trembling knuckles against your lips, against the tears streaming down your face. You cannot risk making even the smallest noise. Seconds turn to eternity as you hold your breath.

"Sweetheart?” Dean taunts. He’s close. “You’re just making this worse for yourself.” 

Your ribs are close to cracking as if being pulled by a rope. You can feel sweat coating the doorknob as you hold on to it with ferocity. Almost there. You can hear him in the hall. Any second now.

“Oh, by the way, you can, uh… blame yourself for me getting loose. All that blood you pumped into me to make me human… Well. The less demon I was, the less the cuffs worked. And that Devil’s Trap? Well, I just walked right across it. It smarted, but still." he lets out a derisive laugh. 

He’s here! Now!

You open the door, bolt across and pull the control room door shut, locking it. The sirens stop and the corridor is flooded with light. You face the door and pull out Ruby’s knife, prepared.

“That’s your big move? Oh baby girl, you poor poor thing.” he sneers from the other side. 

“Listen to me, Dee! We were getting close, okay? I know you’re still in there somewhere. Just let us finish the treatments.” you shout, strengthening your hold on the knife.

Why isn’t he answering?

“Dean?” you call out, your voice quivering through the trepid atmosphere.  

You jump backwards, tripping over yourself and falling as the door starts splintering. The knife clatters against the floor. Dean hacks at the door and bits of wood shower the air with every strike. You're unable to react, blinded by shock. Fear has overpowered your thoughts and you're rooted to the floor.  

“You act like I want to be cured!” he heaves and a large chunk of the door falls out.

You force yourself up, terrified. You pick up the knife and gape, unable to believe your eyes. He sneers at your expression through the gap in the door. “Personally, I like the disease.” he continues, his lip curling.

“Dee, stop that! Please! I know you’re in there.” you plead.

You wrack your brain, trying to figure out your next move. “I told you, sweetheart, Dean is long gone.” he retorts. Another chunk of the door comes apart.

You take a step back, bolstering yourself. “Look, Dee, I don’t want to use this blade on you! Please don’t make me.”

“That sucks for you, doesn’t it darling? ‘Cause you really mean that!” he hollers.

More splinters. The door isn’t going to stand much longer.

“Dee, if you come out of that room, I won’t have a choice!”  

He looks at you through the door and smirks, “Sure you will! And I know which one you’ll make. Isn’t that right, Y/N/N?” 

You bite your lip to stop it quivering and take a slow step back. He notices it through the door and laughs, “See, here’s the thing - I’m lucky. Oh, hell! I’m blessed! ‘Cause there’s just enough demon left in me that killing you? It ain’t no choice at all.” 

Run. Y/N. Run! But WHEREE??

Realizing that the door will soon be scattered across the floor, you charge into the corridor, your mind racing. You need to find a place to hide, a place Dean cannot get through.

“Y/N/N?” Dean calls out in a sing-song voice, laced with contempt. “Come on, baby! Let’s talk about it. I’m tired of playing. Let’s finish this game!”

You pause against a wall, panting. Every muscle in your body is cramped and you can feel your stomach churn. Short for breath, you shut your eyes and try breathing. Biting your lip, you look about into the corridor.

No sign of Dean. Good! I need to find a place to hide.

You turn and duck instantly as Dean swings the hammer. The hammer lodges itself in the wall. Not wasting any time, you push the blade against his throat. 

Hurt him just enough to buy a little time. But how can I?

Dean smiles cruelly as if knowing the struggle in your mind. “Do it, baby girl. It’s all you.” he jeers. 

You push the blade a little harder, it quivers in your trembling fingers. You can feel your sweat against the handle, loosening your grip. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to tighten it. Your fingers are numb as if detached from the rest of your body.

“Do it!” he hisses.

You let the knife fall. Dean smiles, his face diabolical. His eyes go black and he lunges at you. Anticipating it, you scream and duck again, shielding yourself with your hands and shutting your eyes. You wait for the impending strike to fall, to embrace the darkness. Fear clenches every nerve in ardent foreboding. There’s a loud ringing in your ears and a thumping in your head. 

Why hasn’t he attacked yet? What’s that noise?

“It’s over.” 

Was that Cas?

Bracing yourself, you lift your head. You see Cas holding an agitated Dean, his eyes glowing. Sam restrains Dean, helping Cas as Dean begins to yell. He strains against Sam and Cas, fighting back.  

“Dean, it’s over,” Cas repeats. Dean continues to fight back, pushing against Cas’ arms. Sam is holding Dean’s shoulders as tight as possible. Dean shouts, trying to overpower Cas. Then, he faints. 

“It’s over,” Cas states, slowly lowering Dean to the floor.

Sam leans over to you, “Y/N! Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?”

Still, in shock, your mouth refuses to move or form any words. You shake your head at him.

“Alright then, stay put kiddo. We’ll put him in the dungeon and I’ll be right back. Is that okay?”

You nod bleakly and lean against the wall. Sam comes back and puts his arms around your shoulders, sitting beside you. You can’t help the tears as you he embraces you. 

“Shhh… I got you. It’s over now. You’re safe.” he cooes, rocking you slowly. You start to sob uncontrollably, pulling him closer. He holds you, gently rubbing your back and whispering words of comfort.

“He was... was going to... to... to killll.. To killl… kill me” you stammer between sobs, against Sam’s shirt. 

“I know baby. I know. You need to know, that wasn’t Dean okay? Whatever he said and did - that was The Mark talking. Not Dean. You know he’d never hurt you. You’re safe baby.” he consoles, holding you close. You fall against him, absorbing the feeling of comfort, letting his warmth pacify you. You lay your head against his chest cry silently. 

When you’ve calmed down enough, he gently lifts up your chin and wipes off your tears. “Listen to me baby, you’re safe. We’ve locked him up now. He won’t escape again.”

You look at Sam, your eyes red and teary but resolute. “I’m going to cure him Sammy.” you say fiercely, “ I don't care if its the last thing that I do. Dean’s going to be our brother again.” 

[womanoflettersinthebunker]

REPORT: DEAD BODY FOUND

 Sam blinked as he stared at his pad, gently placing the beakers back into the chamber and closing it before quickly leaving the med bay area and going to the cafeteria. He smiled at his brother, who was sitting with a few others from their group, and took a seat. They waited together in silence, fidgeting. Charlie, the one who’d called it in, was looking a bit sick to her stomach, staring down at the table.

 Claire and Alex joined them. For a moment, none of them spoke, just staring at one another as they realized who the body was.

 Donna.

 Sam swallowed hard, wishing that he could’ve sat next to his brother instead. He gripped his pad tightly as finally Charlie spoke.

 “I found Donna… She was in storage,” the redhead said quietly. “She was-” Her voice hitched and Dean wrapped his arm around her, tucking her under his chin when she turned and buried her face in his chest.

 She didn’t need to say anymore, since they had all seen what happened to Cas. He was the first casualty in all of this, his body ripped in half like a… Like a monster had done it. That was the only explanation. Benny had been the one to volunteer to clean up, being the only one who could stomach it, but despite his best efforts, when Sam walked down that corridor, he could still see small faded spots of Cas’s blood.

 And now it was Donna. She had fallen victim to it too.

 “We’ve scoured the entire ship, there’s no place for something like this to hide,” Jody said, her voice tense. “That means we have to consider that… Someone here’s been compromised.”

 For a moment, none of them could speak, and when the silence finally broke, almost all of them were yelling.

 “You think someone here could do something like this?” Claire demanded, halfway to standing up if Alex hadn’t grabbed her arm and yanked her back down. “Why the hell would any of us do that?”

 In an answer, Jody turned to Dean- he was the one in charge of shields. “Dean, you tell me, have we checked the ship? Multiple times?”

 “Yeah,” Dean said his face a bit sour. He held Charlie closer to him. “Nowhere on board for anything to hide, made sure I did a scan of the whole thing.”

 “So, that leaves one option,” Jody concluded. She was in charge of communications, so it was her job to remain calm, cool, collected. “It's someone here doing it.”

 “Why the hell would someone be doing this?” Kevin demanded a touch hysterical. “We’re supposed to be working together until we reach the colony. We’re still more than a year away from it, what’s the point?”

 “I don’t know but it makes the most sense,” Jody said simply. “No one else is on board except us.”

 Sam frowned as he looked down at his pad, bringing up everyone's profiles. “Jody, everyone here's been cleared for any mental impairment, we’ve all had to go through extensive clearance for it,” he told her. “There’s nothing that would hint at something like… This.”

 “Then I guess their bodies just decided to be ripped in half,” Jody said, rolling her eyes. “So at this point, I don’t think that anyone should be alone anymore, so everyone will have an alibi and we’ll know where everyone is at all times.”

 “That’s not possible,” Dean injected. “We’ve all got our own tasks to take care of, on different parts of the ship. If we can’t all be together at the same times then maybe… We should just do a check in? Like every two hours?”

 “Sounds better than just breathing over everyone's shoulders,” Claire muttered under her breath, hitting her arm back at Alex who hit her with her elbow.

 “Charlie, you might want to get to med bay,” Benny told her gently. “Take the day off at least.”

 Charlie shook her head, her hair flying around her as she stared down at the table. “I got work to do,” she mumbled. “I can’t just… Stop.”

 “So what do we do about the… About Donna?” Alex asked, shifting in her seat. “About… Her body?”

 “Sam, I know it's not your job but you’re in-charge of research. Do you think you can… Look her over?” Jody asked. “See if you can find… Something? Anything?”

 Sam quickly nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll… I’ll take her and quarantine a corner of med bay. Can’t promise anything but I’ll do my best.”

 Dean nodded, shooting his brother a small grim smile. “Until then...business as usual I guess.”

It started to escalate after that.

 The next one found was Kevin. He didn’t report to lunch, which wasn’t anything new- he was prone to skipping meals, getting lost in the computers and maps that was his department. His job was navigation; to make sure that they were on their path and not drifting off. He was the one they were dependent on to ensure that they were going to reach their new home colony.

 But Claire found him in his seat, slumped over. He almost looked like he had just fallen asleep over the console, which wouldn't be the first time that happened, but when she reached out to shake him awake his body fell to the ground.

 And revealed the deep cut on his throat, almost decapitating him.

 Her scream was heard through the ship, putting everyone on the alert as they ran towards the source. Alex couldn't be in the room, once she realized what had happened. When she saw the carnage, she vomited. Sam had grabbed her and taken her around the corner to the nearest water closet, holding her hair back as she threw up and then helped her to wash up.

 They met in the cafeteria once more, shaken and white-faced. Alex looked as if she was moments away from bolting. To where, they weren't sure, but anywhere that wasn't permeated with the scent of cleaning solution mixed with the faint scent of blood.

 "What the hell do we do now?" Charlie demanded, half hysterical. She had never gotten over seeing Donna like that and now Kevin, the one she was closest to other than Dean. "This can't be… This has to mean that someone here is doing it!"

 "I think it's time we really discuss where we all were this entire time," Jody said, her voice shaking slightly. She cleared her throat to try to steady herself. "We were all here this morning for breakfast before we went to work, the latest someone left was 9:38 and it is now-" She glanced at her watch. "-13:23. We found him less than ten minutes ago so that leaves anytime between 9:38 to 13:13 when this happened. So-" She fixed all of them with a stern look. "-where was everyone?"

 "I gotta say somethin'," Benny said, getting their attention. "My tasks today were security. I spent the whole mornin' there watchin' the screens. Everyone was where they were supposed to be except… There was a window." He took a deep breath. "All the screens went dark for four minutes and twenty-three seconds. I kept count. Before that, I saw everyone clear as anythin’, and when it came back on… Kevin’s chair was turned. I could see 'im, could see 'im sittin' there, but before he was turned to the side and then… I couldn't make anything other than 'im just sittin' there."

 "So that means that in four minutes and twenty-three seconds… This happened," Sam concluded. "If it's someone here… That means they left their station, did their work, hid him like that, and returned to their station… All in four minutes."

 "Sounds impossible. Everyone’s so far away," Claire mused. "Not to mention there's the possibility that they'd run into someone."

 "Unless they took care of that too," Dean suddenly said. "I heard something weird when I was in electric, I could've sworn that the doors had closed, it sounded like the locking mechanism. I didn't pay attention to it, had to deal with some bad wiring, but combining that with the screens going dark..."

 "It means that whoever did it took care of everything," Sam finished. "It means that they took out security, locked the doors, and cleaned up, without anyone the wiser. Benny, you said four minutes and twenty-three seconds, less than five minutes. We all deal with not needing anything for five minutes, don’t need to use the bathroom or get water or anything. So whoever did this… Timed it all just right so that no one would check the doors and find it possibly locked.”

 “So that means that everything is compromised,” Charlie said, head in her hands. “Security, shields, everything. We’re basically sitting ducks.”

 “Everything’s going to be fine,” Jody assured her. “We just need to come up with something different. What we’ve been doing obviously isn’t working.”

 “We’ve been doing the check-ins, but we can’t do them every five minutes,” Claire pointed out. “And we can’t do our tasks together; they’re all in different parts of the ship. So… What now?”

 “Only thing that I can think of is if we just… Double the tasks up,” Jody said. “That way, instead of one person doing a task we’ll have two people and then they’ll move onto the other person's task together. We don’t need to be doing them all at the same time other than the monthly check in. And when we do that we’ll have our comms on the entire time so that we can all hear each other.”

 “Otherwise, I have no idea what to do.”

It got even worse after that.

 Jody and Claire were next; found together with Jody's body over Claire’s as if she had tried to protect the younger woman from whoever was killing them.

 She didn’t succeed in the end. All that remained were two lifeless bodies, both of them with their chests sliced open in one clean swipe.

 It happened at night when they had gone to bed in their respective rooms. Jody had obviously gone to check on Claire, she had a soft spot for the two younger girls on board, and that was where… It happened.

 Whether or not whoever had done it had intended to get the both of them or had gotten lucky, that was anyone's guess.

 The worst part was they didn’t even find them until morning, when the both of them failed to come to the cafeteria for breakfast. Despite everything, once they were late, they all knew the reason why.

 At this point, they were all holding their breaths staring at one another, wondering who would be next.

 Desperately trying to figure out which one of them was doing it.

 But at the same time not wanting to believe that one of them ever could.

 The next day they found Charlie in her bed, unmoving, a small bottle of cyanide in her limp hand.

Benny pored over the security tapes desperately, trying to see…What he wasn’t even sure of anymore. He rewinded and paused every single moment that he could, trying to find a hint of something that he had missed before.

 Suddenly, all of his screens turned black and turned off. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed at his pad, trying to bypass the system to get back in control.

 Not again. Not again.

 His eyes went from his pad to the screens, breathing out a small sigh of relief when one of the cameras at least turned back.

 But then he stilled, feeling his stomach drop and his blood freeze in his veins as he realized what he was looking at. The man, if he could be called that, walked out of the radiator wiping at his hands.

 His hands that were covered in blood.

 He looked up at the camera, as if he knew that Benny was watching, and tilted his head, looking over his shoulder back into the radiator room and back at the camera, almost daringly.

 Benny’s hands shook as all his screens came back to life and he tapped onto the radiator room, a small choked sound escaping him when he saw what used to be Alex’s body pierced onto the side of the radiator that was sticking out.

 He looked back to the first screen, breathing out slowly when he saw that the man had disappeared.

 But he wasn’t surprised when his own door opened and he stepped in, blood-stained knife in his hand.

Sam stared out through the window, just savoring the sight of the stars and plants as they flew by. They never did this anymore. Maybe in the beginning it had been a source of wonder and awe but it had faded away to another part of their lives aboard the ship. His pad beeped once more and he glanced at it, looking over the navigation to make sure that they were on the right path. It wasn’t his division, had been Kevin’s, but a lot more responsibility fell onto Sam now.

 He didn’t mind, he welcomed it.

 He didn’t look up when he heard the footsteps coming into the observatory, simply swiping his finger over the screen to check on the engines, taking a moment to check on their O2 levels and making a note for himself to check on the chutes to clean them.

 He could feel his brother stop a few feet away from him, far away enough that Sam would have to move to reach him.

 Neither of them spoke.

 “Found Benny.” Dean finally said, voice cracking. “It looked like he put up a fight.”

 He had, and Sam had the bruises on the side of his face and neck to prove it. His hand went up to one of them, lightly brushing over it before he finally turned to his brother.

 Dean looked as if he was about to throw up, staring at Sam's bloodstained suit. He took in the bruises, the blood covered handle of the knife that was sticking out of his pocket. Sam let his eyes go down to where Dean was gripping a wrench tightly, obviously the first thing that he had found.

 “You gonna use that on me?” Sam asked, motioning with his chin at the wrench.

 Dean jerked forward as if he had been pulled. “Are you gonna use that on me?” He shot back instead, voice shaking.

 In response, Sam took the knife out of his pocket and let it fall to the floor, kicking it over to Dean. His brother hesitated but then quickly bent down to grab it, moving over to the wall to chuck it into the compost bin, yanking the lever down to shoot it into space. Sam turned back to the window just in time to see it drift away, lost among the rest of the rubble.

  He saw Dean's reflection in the glass a moment before and braced himself for Dean to grab him by the arm and slam his back against the cool glass. His brother's eyes were wide, a hint of tears visible.

 “Why?” Dean managed to get out, voice shaking. “Why?”

 Sam gave him a small smile and slid out of Dean’s grip. His brother wasn’t even trying to hold him back. He walked away from the observatory towards storage, almost feeling Dean’s hesitation. But ultimately, his brother followed after him.

 Reaching storage, Sam went to the cooler, punching in the code and holding his breath as he stepped to the side so that Dean could see. He didn’t have to get close; the smell hit him before anything else, making him gag and move away.

 “What the hell?” He half-demanded, covering his mouth and nose.

 Sam closed the door and took his pad out, activating another vent in the room to try to get rid of the smell a bit quicker.

 “Couple months ago I was doing inventory,” Sam told him once the O2 levels came back to normal. “And came across this. Someone really screwed up with refrigeration. Everything in there was spoiled and inedible.” He gestured to the boxes behind Dean. “The rest are MRE’s. Gross but filling and gets the job done. We don’t have the tech onboard to replicate food and our greenhouse was destroyed upon takeoff. Without the chance to grow food, our supply was limited by over sixty percent.”

 He moved to the boxes, sliding his hand on one to wipe away the dust. They were supposed to dust the whole ship, especially when it came to their supplies, but with everyone dying off, it was harder to do so. “We had been eating from storage 2- food that had a lesser shelf life. But all of that would only last the ten of us for three months rather than the one year that both storages were supposed to,” he continued. “And the MRE’s were to be eaten on the last leg of the journey, the last four months.”

 “So I did the math, and I realized that without storage 1, we were going to be dead from starvation long before this journey was done,” Sam told his brother, turning to look at him. “I did every calculation that I could, I limited everyone's calorie intake to the absolute minimum that we would still be able to work on. I put in skipped meals, fasting for the whole day, for two days. I worked endlessly in the med bay to try to find a way to replicate the food we had or at least find a way to create something new.” He sighed. “But without the greenhouse, without soil and nutrients and proper lighting, nothing was going to grow.”

 “So then I did my calculations again. And started deleting the variables.” His voice was softer now, and he kept walking along the MRE’s, hand trailing over all of them. “Everyone had such different calorie intake requirements, I had the research Dean, I had everyone's information. Did you know that out of everyone, Cas was the one that required the most? As a result, he was the first one I deleted, just to see what it would do. And taking him out gave the nine of us an extra three months of food.”

 “But that wasn’t enough. It still wasn’t enough to get us home.”

 “So I kept doing it, kept recalculating and reorganizing and trying to find a different way. Donna had the second-highest calorie intake, she was the second to go,” Sam spoke, all too aware of his brother's eyes on him. “I didn’t want it to be like that, I didn’t want to have to do it, and I knew I couldn’t tell everyone because that would just cause mass panic.”

 “I finally realized it, I realized that in order to ensure that you and I would be able to make it, everyone else would have to go. That in order for you and me to live, we would need every last bit of food that is in here,” Sam finished, turning to face his brother. “Because there is no alternative where you don't make it outta here, Dean, I’m not letting you die because you refused to take the food from someone else.”

 He saw his brother swallow hard. “And that’s always been the plan?” He asked his voice hollow. “To get you and me outta here?”

 “Always,” Sam promised him. “They were our crew and everything, but they’re not family. Not like you and me.” He smiled, stepping closer. “Earth is gone and everything with it. All I have left is you, Dean. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

 He reached for his brother and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close to him. It took a moment but Dean's arms came up and gripped him back tightly. Gripped him to the point that it was starting to hurt.

 Sam ignored it, allowing Dean to do whatever he wanted. He knew when he had started this that he had no real idea of how Dean was going to react. He knew that his brother would never hurt him but he had been close with everyone else on the ship, this had to hurt in some way.

 But he also knew that he came first for Dean, just like Dean was always first for him. Above all else, above everyone else, it was them against the world.

 “It’s going to be okay Dean.” Sam whispered to him. “It’s just you and me now; it’s going to be okay.”

[lovedsammy]

anchor; sam/cas

Coda to 15.05. Based on the speculation about there being two pillows on Sam’s bed and Sam and Cas having shared the bed in the past, with Cas comforting Sam through his nightmares. With Castiel away from the bunker, Sam’s blood-forged nightmares bring him to his knees. He needs the angel with him now more than ever, and he’s determined to get him to come back home. Hurt/comfort + angst. Mentions of trauma, Becky, Chuck/God. 

Read HERE on Ao3. 

--

Sammy, please.

Please.

A loud, resounding crack, and Sam’s eyes snap open. Instantly, he’s folded over the side of the bed, his head swimming, breaths coming in harsh, wet pants. His neck and back are drenched in a cold sweat that clings to him much in the way that the horrific images remain behind his eyes. 

The first nightmare again: facing off with Dean, his brother pleading with him to stop, Sam’s body absolutely thrumming from the power coursing through his veins, feeling the soar of it, snapping Dean’s neck…. 

And the worst of all --- tasting the metallic tang of the demon blood on his tongue like it was meant to be there.

Even awake.

Sam heaves, and nothing but bile comes up, but he still feels endlessly nauseous. It’s becoming a part of the territory lately. He’s still half-asleep and a little out of it - the cold medicine he took last night worked a little too well - and he finds himself in the middle of calling out Cas’s name. It’s a thing of habit. He rolls over, almost expecting to find the angel’s concerned face staring back at him. But Castiel isn’t here. The empty space next to Sam is proof of that. Castiel left, and Sam… well, he was a grown man. He shouldn’t need, or depend on someone else to keep him steady when he felt like he was falling. He needs to be his own crutch, because this…. this is his problem, and not one he should be including anyone else in. Most of all, Cas, his friend, who was suffering himself over the loss of the boy that they both viewed as a son. 

Which was probably why he wasn’t here now. 

It was hard for Sam too, so used to the sound of Jack’s laughter echoing off the bunker walls, and now there was only hollow silence. For Cas, who had loved Jack so fiercely and unconditionally… the anguish must be indescribable. 

And yet, Sam still aches for Cas’s presence. The angel had involved himself in Sam’s troubled cycles of sleep, and had for quite some time, ever since he had started to take up residence in the younger Winchester’s room. Sometimes, Sam would get so tired that he’d curl up on his bed with Cas still beside him as they made their way through another TV show or docuseries, and he’d be out in seconds. He’d come to some time later, thrashing, trembling, and Cas would be there to console him, run his fingers through Sam’s hair, and calm him down. Having Cas in his room had become a safeguard for Sam. He hadn’t realized how much he’d depended on Cas to keep the nightmares at bay until he wasn’t there. 

Castiel was more aware than Dean even at this point of the severity of Sam’s dreams. Sam would tell Cas things, usually without meaning to, that he’d never breathe a word of to Dean. It wasn’t because he distrusted his brother - it was more just that Cas was there and had an understanding of the inner workings of Sam’s mind in ways that no one else really did.  

A lot of the time that Sam and Cas had actually spent rooming together came as a result of the loss of Dean to Michael. In those months spent searching for his brother, Sam had started to really let himself go, both physically and mentally. He was exhausted, barely ate, and hardly ever slept. He was always out and about, following some lead or another, or helping another new hunter on a case. Or setting up more services for the Hunter Network. Or something else altogether. So Cas had become Sam’s rock, along with becoming Jack’s. 

The first few times that Sam had allowed Cas into his room again, it was mostly just out of loneliness. He’d needed someone beside him, and Cas was good company. They enjoyed watching Netflix together, and Sam knew that his room had ironically become something of a sanctuary for the angel, too, for whatever reason. But the many, many times after that…. it became something more. 

Sam genuinely enjoyed the feeling of waking up to see Castiel beside him every morning. The residents of the bunker all knew what was happening, but fortunately, no one said anything about it. Mary had made sure of that. She seemed to be under the same impression as the rest of the hunters, though, because once when Sam came out of his room with bedhead and Castiel in tow looking just as rustled, her eyebrows had shot up to her hairline. While Cas had gone to check on Jack, she’d looked at Sam pointedly. 

“So…. how long has this been going on? You and Castiel?”

“M-Mom,” He’d stuttered, flushed, choking around a mouth full of toast. “It isn’t what you’re thinking, I swear. We're just… he helps. I can’t - I don’t really sleep much at night, and he, uh… we watch things, and it helps me. Really, we’re just hanging out.” 

Seeing her son’s red face, Mary just laughs, and leans over to kiss his cheek. “Oh, Sam. You don’t need to be embarrassed. I’m not implying anything, okay? I’m just happy for you. I don’t care what’s going on between the two of you. If he helps you, he helps. He’s an angel, and your friend. I don’t trust anyone else besides Dean with you. Even if it does happen to become something else, you wouldn’t need to explain yourself to me.”

Sam had smiled back at her, nodded, and they’d left it at that. And while it was true that he’d been harboring some unspoken -- likely unrequited -- feelings about Cas for the longest time now, he’d never acted on them. And if Cas felt the same way, well, he hadn’t either.

Confident now that he was done expelling the contents of his stomach lining, Sam shakily exhales, sweeping his fringe back from his face and tries to relax his frantic heart. Once he’s sure he can stand, he gets a glass of water from his sink to wash out the taste of acid and blood in his mouth, and more importantly, clean up the mess before Dean comes in at some point and starts asking questions. 

The sound of his phone vibrating startles him out of the haze. It’s a new text, and he’s shocked to see that it’s from Cas.

Deep breaths, Sam. It says. Remember to even them. Do them in sets. I’m sorry that I’m not there to help you right now.

Sam just stares at the message, a little stunned. He’s spent days trying to get in touch with Cas, only for him to ignore his messages completely. 176 total messages sent, over 20 voice mails. 

Hey, Cas, just checking in. 

How are you doing? Everything ok?

Cas, call me. We need to talk. 

Didn’t realize you were taking off. 

Service sucks in the bunker, want to make sure you’re getting these?

Call me when you can.

Want to make sure you’re ok? 

Cas, check in when you can.  

Cas, please.

Cas.

Cas, please answer me, man. I’m worried. Radio silence isn’t like you.

All right, it’s been two days. I’m really worried.

About you.

I don’t know why you’re not replying. 

Is it because you can’t? Or won’t?

Five days... 

Did I do something? 

Tomorrow’s a week.

I think I know now, and I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m so sorry, Cas. 

I’m sorry about Jack. I’m sorry I fucked up... 

I’m sorry that what I did, and what we lost, caused you to leave.

His fingers fumble with the phone. How did you know? He simply texts back, because, well, he’d thought that Casiel’s powers were failing. Could the angel still sense him when he was in distress without being anywhere near him? 

You wake at the same time every night without fail, Cas replies a moment later. The nightmares have always been frequent but they seem to have become more systematic lately. I can usually tell when you’re about to have one depending on the time of night it is and how far into REM sleep you are.

Again, Sam is thrown for a loop, and more than touched. Cas had really attuned himself to Sam’s sleep patterns, so he’d best know how to help him. He’s about to reply back when the phone rings. He’s relieved, and honestly, a little bit bitter. He’d spent all the time waiting to hear from Cas, only for him to call him now. He didn’t understand why, but he was going to find out. 

The wave of calm that washes over him once he hears the angel’s voice, however, is immediate and blissful and saps the confrontational energy right out of him. 

“Sam, are you all right?” Castiel’s voice is a low, gentle vice that holds Sam still, and steers him back to reality. The hunter doesn’t really register that he’d been palming his scarred hand until his fingers uncurl from it. 

He puffs out a haggard breath, attempting to quell a new wave of dizziness. “I don’t know,” he slurs. “Not really. No. Since I shot God, I’ve been having these dreams, or premonitions or whatever. They keep getting more and more vivid. And honestly, they’re really starting to scare the hell out of me.” He lowers his head so that they’re between his knees, and it helps a little in lessening the constriction of his chest and the spinning of the room. “Cas… we ran into Lilith, of all people. Apparently, Chuck brought her back, to take the gun from us. And she did. And ... and she said that Chuck isn’t done with us. He’s writing the ending that he wants. He hasn’t left. I was so damn stupid to think he had, that he was gone….” 

The sound of silence on the other end of the phone makes him shudder, and he wraps an arm around himself. He’s waiting, wanting, for Cas to say something. Anything. Tell him he’s imagining things, that he’s crazy, that he’s stressed and tired and — 

“I came to the same conclusion,” Cas says grimly. “Only I didn’t run into Lilith. I wish I could appease your fears, Sam. But I think you’re right. Chuck isn’t gone. And I think I have proof beyond just Lilith’s word.” 

Sam’s blood turns to ice. “What?” He asks. “How?”

“I wasn’t going to mention it, but… do you… remember Becky Rosen?” 

Sam sours again and suppresses another shudder. Yet another crappy memory. “Y-yeah. What about her?” 

“She’s missing. Along with her husband and children. It’s all over the news here.” 

Sam blinks, raising his brows. “Wait - you’re kidding…. Becky got married? And had kids? Okay, uh…. wow. But how do… how do you know it’s Chuck, Cas?” 

“Because I’ve been reading everything about the case, and from what neighbors have said, Becky, her husband, and children, all went into their house, and never came back out. Their car is still here. There’s no sign that they left on foot. There’s no damages to the home that would suggest an intruder. It’s like they blipped out of existence. Or someone snapped them out. Like what the Mad Titan Thanos did to the Avengers in Infinity War.” 

Sam waves a dismissive hand that Cas can’t see. “Yeah, I know the Marvel reference - Cas…” He swallows down as much water as he can before he continues. “I don’t…. Why would Chuck go after Becky, of all people? She’s his ex, didn’t they have feelings for one another at one time?” 

“Becky got played just like the rest of us have,” Cas reminds him. “It may not be him, but I just thought… I can’t shake this feeling that he’s involved somehow. I’m going to keep looking into it, I’ll text you when --” 

Sam cuts him off. “Wait, Cas… why… why don’t you come back… to the bunker?” He pleads. “Please. We could use you here. Or if you don’t want to meet here, I could… I could come meet you. I need some air right now, and I could…. Cas, I really need to see you. You’ve been ignoring all of my messages and you won’t even tell me why. Now out of the blue you message me, and you expect me not to ask what’s going on? Talk to me. Please.” 

It makes him feel so incredibly vulnerable, admitting to Cas how much he views him as an anchor, and how much he needs him. 

“The exit off 36,” Cas says after a long moment. “182. Just outside Bellaire. I’ll meet you there. I’m not too far out.” 

“Okay,” Sam agrees, and some of the tightness in his chest finally relieves. 

——

He’s still trembling when he sees the headlights of Cas’s car approaching, and had been on the entire drive here. He guesses that the after effects of the visions are getting harder and harder to shake off. They’re so reminiscent of his early days with them, back as a twenty-three year old boy. The only difference now is that he was older, wiser, and not quite as innocent. 

When Cas steps out of the car and nears him, the angel’s expression is one of concern. “Oh, Sam,” He chokes, sorrow etching on the lines of his face, “You look terrible.” He reaches up to caress Sam’s cheek, and Sam’s eyes flutter closed. It’s such a tender touch that he wants to melt into it. He forces his eyes open again. 

Cas is frowning at him as he looks him over, at the dark circles under the hunter’s eyes, the paleness of his skin. 

“I haven’t really been sleeping,” Sam explains in response. “Because when I do, the dreams - the visions that I’m having… it takes me a long time to calm down after. I just know that he’s… he’s got something horrible planned for us. He’s… Cas, I think he’s showing me things. Not intentionally, but…”

“What are you seeing?” 

Sam takes a deep breath, steeling himself. Cas places an encouraging hand on his shoulder.

“Sam. It’s all right. You can tell me.” 

“Me,” Sam answers. “I’m seeing me, and Dean. In one of them, we’re in the bunker, and I kill him. I snap his neck, and I’m happy about it. I’m evil. I’m hooked on the demon blood again, and it’s worse than ever. My eyes - my eyes are black, and I’m - I’m so far beyond gone. And when I wake up, I can taste it, I…” He forces the bile down that’s trying to come up again. “I wake up with the taste of blood in my mouth and the thrill of killing my own brother.”

Cas nods sympathetically, but doesn’t say anything. 

He waits for Sam to find his voice again. 

“The others are just as bad. I’m Lucifer, and I burn Dean down to the bone. In another, he’s got the Mark of Cain. You didn’t come save me. So he kills me with the First Blade.” He pauses long enough to take a rattling, wet breath. “I need you, Cas. I need you back home, with us. Yeah, I’ve got Dean, and he has me. But we - I need you, too. You’re my best friend, my family. I know it’s so hard for you to be there, after Jack. I can hardly look around without seeing him, either. But distancing yourself from us to grieve alone is just... ” 

Castiel lowers his eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t go back there. I’m not welcome, not after what happened with Jack, and your mother. I’m afraid that I’d just be a horrific reminder of that.”

Sam recoils. “What? Of course you aren’t a reminder, Cas, you’re… wait, is this why you left? You thought you wouldn’t be welco --” 

“You’re misunderstanding,” The angel shakes his head, and sighs. “I didn’t just leave, Sam. Dean…he wanted me to leave, he -- he can no longer stand my presence. He told me in so many words that he didn’t wish for me to remain there. He blames me for not just what happened with your mother, and with Jack, but also Rowena.”

“What?”

Sam goes silent, thunderstruck. And then it all falls into place: Dean’s attitude in the Crypt, the lack of regard for Cas and his well being when he sent Cas off to Hell with Belphegor; how easily he’d shrugged off Sam when he’d asked about the angel. How easily Dean could lie and make up an answer, how he could just say that Cas left because he “needed space to grieve away from them,” and not to worry about him. Castiel ignoring his messages.... 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The younger Winchester demands. It lacks any real anger or conviction. It sounds sad even to his own ears. “Dammit, Cas. I could’ve talked to him, I could’ve stopped him…” 

The angel grips his shoulder more firmly, rubbing soothing circles into the flesh. “No, Sam. You were grieving for Rowena. I wasn’t going to disrupt that. Your brother told me that he thinks everything that goes wrong with your lives is because of me. And I felt that… that if I’m no longer present in your lives, then perhaps -”

“Oh, no, that’s bullshit,” Sam cuts him off, now heated. “Screw that. No. You’re one of the best things about our lives - about my life!”

“Sam -”

“I would’ve come after you,” Sam says, and he surprises himself when he realizes that he means it. If he’d known that Dean had kicked Cas out, Sam would’ve put a pin into grieving yet another close friend and gone after the angel, no matter how pissed Dean got. 

A slight smile curves on Cas’s lips; knowing, affectionate. “I know you would have. I know you would’ve pulled me back, and that’s why I didn’t respond to you. I wanted to keep you safe. Keep you alive, give you a chance at happiness.” 

There’s a long pause in which neither of them move, or say anything. Sam’s heart is pounding loud in his throat, and his eyes are muddled again with emotion. And Cas is looking at him with such soft intensity it’s as though he views Sam as the most precious thing he’s ever seen. 

“You mean so very much to me, Sam,” Cas says. “I don’t think you understand how much. But I will not force you to choose between me and your brother. You’ve had so many choices thrust upon you, I will not add to it. You’ve suffered so much and I can’t watch you be hurt again.” 

Sam huffs, nodding bitterly. “Yeah, well. What if I’m not making a choice? I’m done doing that. I’m tired of it. I want to take what I want.”

He was tired of being Chuck’s puppet, a mindless marionette on a fucking string to use and break and throw away. He was tired of being told what he could and could not have, could not save, could not love. 

And right now, he wanted Cas back home with him.

He wants Cas, in whatever way that was. 

“Then you should,” The angel replies easily. He’s waiting, Sam realizes. They’ve reached a crossroad, and Cas is waiting either for Sam to turn and walk away, or to do something with that declaration. 

He fixates Cas with a stare, watching the angel’s expression for any sort of change, any sign that this isn’t what he wants. There’s an unspoken language occurring between them, and Cas’s eyes read that he’s very aware of what Sam’s telling him, and he’s not backing out.

Sam fights it until he can't anymore. 

He surges forward and presses his lips against Castiel’s, furiously, deeply. The angel rocks on the balls of his feet from the force of it, his hand still on Sam’s shoulder. But he isn’t pushing him away, and Sam thinks that’s a good sign. And then Cas’s other hand comes up to grip Sam’s hair tenderly, and suddenly, he’s responding back in equal fervor.

When Sam pulls away at last, he’s panting again, a little dizzy, but for an entirely different reason than trauma. “Wow,” He croaks, a little sheepish.

“For lack of a better word,” Castiel agrees, somewhat breathless himself. “How long have you thought about doing that?” 

“Pretty much since I met you,” Sam mumbles, ducking his head. “But especially lately, and after you left, I…” And then the moment passes and like always, the guilt settles in. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Cas, I didn’t mean to just  --”

“No. Don’t you do that,” Cas admonishes gently. “Don’t you apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. Especially not that. Do you honestly think I’d have allowed that to happen if I didn’t want it to?”

Sam goes red, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just didn’t think you’d feel ---” 

And now Cas is the one leaning into him, running his lips along Sam’s jawline. “I do.”

Sam can’t quite believe what’s happening. He’s entertained the thought of this, more times than he cares to admit if he’s honest, but he never thought it could actually happen. He’s nose to nose with the angel, and probably looks like a blushy moron. But he finally feels contentment for the first time in days. Or at least, something resembling it.  

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first time I lied beside you,” Cas tells him, and now it’s his turn to look somewhat awkward. “Perhaps even longer. Much longer than I ever realized.” 

Sam laughs a little. “So… what now?” He asks, tentatively.

Cas hums, thoughtful. “So now...we find out what happened to Becky Rosen and her family,” He says. “And then we go home, back to the bunker, whether Dean likes it or not. And we find a way to defeat Chuck and what he’s trying to bring to pass.”

Sam nods, weakly, finally disentangling himself from Cas. It doesn’t feel so much like letting him go as it does a temporary pause.

“Yeah. All right. Sounds like a plan.” 

[thewnchstrs]

Death Wish

Pairing: SamXReader

Summary: after Sam dies, Y/N knows what she has to do in order to bring him back.

Disclaimers: mentions of death, drinking, crying

Word Count: 3K

M A S T E R L I S T

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I had never heard the bunker so quiet after Sam was gone. I no longer woke up to his soft snoring or the sound of his electric toothbrush from the bathroom. The sound of his typing at his laptop and how every time he would hit the space bar it would click louder than the others, the sound of his sock-clad feet down the hallways on his way to get his morning cup of coffee. It’s hard to notice how loud someone’s presence is until they’re gone.

Dean and I seemed to move in slow motion, our days not even starting until late in the afternoon when we finally decided to get up out of bed. The days following Sam’s death had been unbearably slow, but the nights were even longer.

The endless, aching pain in my chest did nothing to help the fact that I felt as if I couldn’t get out of bed anymore. It felt as if my heart had reached its hands out through my chest and gripped the metal frame of my bed, the same bed I used to share with Sam.

That bed used to seem small. His long legs would always dangle off the end, his wild hair would fan itself across the pillows. He always made sure to leave enough blankets for me to curl myself in.

Now, the bed seems to stretch on for miles, but I never cross the imaginary line where I know Sam would be sleeping if he were here.

I turned away from his side and instead faced our bedside table where a picture of Sam and I sat, a blurry picture from when we went to the Navy Pier while on a hunt in Chicago. We were supposed to be working the case but the temptation to ride the ferris wheel had been too much for us to handle. We were both smiling, frozen mid-laughter at something Dean must’ve said before taking the picture. The sunset made the sky and the water behind us a beautiful orange and red.

My stomach twisted as I laid the picture frame face down. It seemed like everywhere I turned there was something to remind me of him. His razor still sitting on the edge of our bathroom sink, his shirts hanging untouched in our closet. Even when I closed my eyes, the burned image of Sam on the floor of the cabin, a blossom of red on his grey shirt, his eyes dully looking up at the ceiling, his skin cold.

I whipped my eyes open.

Not sleeping.

Definitely not sleeping.

I sat up, pushing my unruly hair out of my face. I needed to face the world today, I needed to get better. This was the first step.

I changed from the clothes I’d been wearing the past three days and took a shower. A long, hot shower that made me forget momentarily about why I was denying doing anything in the first place.

After taming my hair and putting on something other than pajamas, I shuffled to the library where I knew I’d find Dean, most likely drunk to the point of unconsciousness. Sure enough, he was sitting at a table, an empty bottle of whiskey next to him. He stared down into his glass, a miniscule amount of the bitter drink sloshing around as he rotated it. As if staring into the drink would give him all the answers he needed.

I sat in the chair across from him, picking up the whiskey bottle and turned it over, not even a drop came out onto the wood. I set it back down and watched Dean.

“Any left?” I asked, gesturing to the bottle.

He sighed and shook his head. His words came out slurred, “No, that was the last of it.”

I tapped the table with the pads of my fingertips, my eyes flicking up to Dean who continued to stare into his glass. “What are we gonna do?”

“I don’t…I don’t know.”

Part of me was shocked how careless Dean seemed, as if he didn’t want to bring Sam back at all, “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t know, Y/N,” Dean growled, looking up at me now. I’d seen Dean get upset with other like this before but never with me, but I couldn’t care less. I was getting Sam back with Dean’s help or not.

“So, you’re just going to give up?” I asked, my voice breaking. Dean only shook his head. “Just going to throw in the towel, just like that?”

“It’s not like that, Y/N.”

“Then what’s it like, Dean?” I asked, my voice getting louder. “Because it looks to me like you’re not even trying to get him back!”

Dean only scoffed as he brought the glass to his lips and swallowed the last of the whiskey. “You wouldn’t understand.”

My anger boiled out of me, smoke seemed to pour out of my ears and nose, and I acted without thinking when I reached across the table and smacked the glass out of Dean’s hand. The glass flew through the air and shattered into a million pieces once it hit the floor. Dean watched me in disbelief as my chest rose and fell violently in rage.

“We’re getting Sam back,” I panted. “We’re getting him back. I don’t care what we have to do.”

“I’ve tried, Y/N,” he said quietly. I was slightly taken back by how calm his voice was. “I tried so hard these last few days to get him back. I- I called Cas, prayed to Chuck, tried summoning Crowley, Rowena, Death, Billy, everyone. I tried to…I tried to sell my soul for him, but at every crossroad they laughed. I’ve escaped death so many times, I’m an empty promise to them.”

I watched as Dean became unraveled, drunken tears spilled down his cheeks as the confession tumbled from his mouth. My anger began to dissolve as I reached across the table and held onto his calloused hand. “I’m an awful brother. I always said I’d take care of him…watch over him, and I can’t even do that right.”

“Stop it, Dean,” I shook my head. “You’re a good brother – a great brother. And I promise you – we will get Sam back.”

I knew my attempts at reassuring him was close to no help. However, as I tried to console Dean and tried to figure out what we were going to do, I was hit with the overwhelming knowledge of what had to be done. Since Sam died, it was always in the back of my mind, but I never had enough courage to face it head on. I’d seen what it’d done to each of them before. However, I knew this time it was different. I could do it, I knew they’d hate me for it, and I knew they’d be sad once I was gone, but it would be nothing compared to what they were going through now.

They would be okay without me.

I didn’t mention my plan to Dean in fear of him talking me out of it. So, I kept it to myself, just like I did with everything else.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The last week had been amazing, as if everything Dean and I had gone through didn’t even matter now that Sam was back. They’d thought I had worked up a trade with Death like the one Dean made a few years ago when he was given Death’s job for a day. It didn’t take much convincing with Dean; he was just happy he had Sammy back.

I would always remember that day when I walked through the bunker’s door to see Sam and Dean, deep in the thralls of conversation after I’d done what I had to do. I’d always remember the way Sam turned when he heard me shut the door, the way he smiled up at me.

I looked out the window where the sun’s rays poured through the windows later that day. Any other day it wouldn’t have been anything significant, but for the past week and a half before Sam came back, Lawrence, Kansas was under a flood advisory, as if the sky was sad that Sam was gone, too.

That day was the first day it stopped raining.

Finally, the Sam-shaped hole in my heart was finally filled again, even though I knew what I had done would’ve had Sam at my throat. I’d put him through so much pain already, that just the thought of him knowing what I did would send him into a frenzy. I knew he’d try to bring me back, to save me somehow. I knew the easiest thing for everybody was to just make them believe I couldn’t handle this life anymore – that I needed a way out.

That’s why I knew I had to leave. I tried not to think about what I was doing as I packed my duffel bag, not caring about whether my jeans were folded or if my shirts were creased. I needed to leave, and soon. I’d given myself my final few days with Sam, spending every second by his side because I knew those were the memories I’d have to hang onto.

I stood at the end of the bed Sam and I shared, the letter felt like it was singeing my skin. I itched to leave it on my side of the bed, to get out of there, and to leave Sam behind.

After much deliberation, I lightly set the letter on my pillow and took one last look at Sam and smiled. I knew he would be okay.

Then I left, propelling myself forward so I wouldn’t have the chance to look back. I ran up the metal staircase and out the front door into the cold night.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

9 years, 11 months, and 28 days later.

I looked myself over in the mirror, curling the last piece of hair that framed my face, swaying my hips to the song that was playing through the tiny Bluetooth speaker sitting on the motel sink. I dug around in my makeup bag for my red lipstick, uncapped it, and swiped it over my pale lips. My black dress clung tightly to my body. One of the upsides to being a hunter was that I didn’t have to try too hard to stay in shape.

Tonight, I was going to have fun. That will be my plan for the next three days, to forget about the world for a while. And my impending doom. There was a nightclub within walking distance from the motel I was staying in and it seemed like it was much more fun than I was going to have anywhere else.

Just as I was about to slide my black heels on, a hard knock came from the motel door. I froze in place, one shoe in hand. I set it down quietly as I snuck around to my bed and pulled the gun from under my pillow. Holding the cold metal close to my body, I counted down from three in my head before I swung the door open, the gun cocked in front of me. The sight of the man on the other side of the door made my heart leap, I was surprised the gun didn’t go off from pure shock.

He looked different – much different from when I saw him last. He was taller, if that was possible, and his hair was much longer. He looked older, obviously, but not in the way you’d think. He’d looked like he’d seen some terrible things. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how different I looked to him. I stood back, taking it all in.

Sam freakin’ Winchester stood, his hands up as if to say he wasn’t a threat. I stood frozen again, not sure what to say or think. It’d been so long.

“Y/N?” he asked, dumbfounded, his hands still in the air.

I could hardly find any air, I could only muster up the one word I forbade myself from saying for nearly ten years, “Sam.”

He smiled slightly; his eyes full of confusion as he scanned every part of my face as if he were trying to recognize who I was. I must’ve looked so out of place in my black dress, my hair and makeup done in the middle of a cheap motel room.

When I realized I was still holding the gun, I quickly uncocked it, putting it on the table behind me, “What…what are you doing here?”

He shook his head as if to clear his mind before speaking but he kept his eyes trained on me, “I’m sorry, I- Dean and I, we’re staying next door. He told me to come tell you to turn your music down.”

Realization dawned on me as I heard the roaring music coming from the speaker in the bathroom, “Oh god, I’m sorry-“ I raced to the bathroom and switched it off.

Breathe, Y/N. This all must be an extremely vivid dream. I told myself as I closed my eyes to gather my thoughts. I rested my hands on the porcelain, taking a few breaths before returning to the main room where, a very real Sam, was still standing in the doorway.

My heart skipped a beat at seeing him there, after all these years. My yearning for Sam never went away, and now that he was within arm’s reach, I’d never loved him more than I did right now.

“You can come in,” I said, and he smiled softly.

“You’re not going to shoot me, are you?”

I laughed, shaking my head. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. We both sat at the end of the bed, not looking at each other, just being together.

“Is this where you’ve been the whole time?” he asked suddenly.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye and then down at my hands in my lap. “You know…here, there. Everywhere.”

Sam nodded, knowing all too well the life of a hunter. What surprised me is that he didn’t seem mad. Didn’t hold it against me that I had left him in the middle of the night and god, I deserved that hatred. I deserved it more than anyone.

“You know that I looked for you,” he said. I could feel his eyes on me now. “I looked everywhere.”

“I know.”

“Why’d you do it?” I looked over to him now. His eyes were pleading, I knew he just wanted to understand. “I just…I was heartbroken. That morning when I woke up, I was devastated.”

“Sam, I’m sorry,” I was barely able to choke out the words. “I’m so sorry.”

“I just want to know why. You said you couldn’t live this life anymore, but from the looks of it you didn’t get too far away.”

I tugged at a loose thread in my dress, pulling at it with chipped nails as I looked up at the weapons bag on the table. “I couldn’t live without you.”

“Then why did you leave-“

“Because I made a deal,” I blurted, the words coming out like vomit. I’d never said it out loud before because I knew that saying it sealed my fate.

Sam blinked, “Yeah, I mean, Dean said you made a trade with Death-“

“No,” I said, shaking my head as I confirmed his worst fear. “I made a deal. At the crossroads.”

I didn’t watch him, but I could see his figure slump forward, a hand cascading down his tired face. “Why?”

“Because your life means so much more to me than mine,” I said truthfully. I could already tell he was going to tell me not to think that way. “It’s true, Sam. When I thought of which one of us should be alive, I couldn’t come up with one reason why it should be me when I have a list full of reasons why it should be you.”

Sam bit back tears. “How much longer?”

I knew what he meant. He wanted to know when my time was up. I checked the clock above the door. “Three days.”

He let out a puff of air, his eyes closing momentarily as he reached for my hand and squeezed it gently in his. The touch sent me reeling for more and before I knew it, I enveloped Sam in my arms, my head against his strong chest, his rhythmic heart compelling me to get closer to him. He held me close, kissing the top of my head.

Minutes passed before I pulled away and looked up at him, “You have to promise me something.”

Sam nodded, his eyes red. “Anything.”

I swallowed roughly, “When I go…you can’t try to bring me back.”

Sam’s grip on my hand became tighter as he shook his head, tears threatening to spill over. “I can’t let you go again.”

“Call it a death wish.”

“That’s not funny.”

I swallowed roughly, running my hand over his. We’d both grown, we were no longer those young kids all those years ago. I was coming to the end of my life, but that didn’t mean Sam had to. “You can’t. I- I’m ready. I’ve come to terms with it, and I’m ready. I’m okay with dying.”

“How can you be okay with it?” he asked, and to be completely honest, I wasn’t sure. For a long time, I felt like without Sam I didn’t have anything to live for. I was floating through life, going through the motions until I was nearly three days until my time was up.

“Just…just trust me, okay? And I know it doesn’t mean much since the last time we saw each other I up and left, but this time I’m telling the truth. This is what I want.”

Sam clenched his jaw. I knew he hated that he was agreeing to just let me die without even putting up a fight. He pulled me closer to him again. “Lets just stay like this, okay?”

I nodded, pulling myself as close as I could to him. This would be enough. This would always be enough.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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[throne-of-embers-and-storms]

Seeing the Stars

Castiel X Reader

It was midnight and Dean, Sam and I had just arrived back at the motel. I look up to see the whole sky is blanketed in pure black without a star in the sky. Three months have passed since all angels fell from heaven and during that time I have joined the Winchesters on their hunting trips. I had to get used to human life fairly quickly once I fell and I still have many difficulties understanding the humans strange customs.

"Those vampires were a bitch…bar anyone?" Dean asks the two of us whilst already heading in the direction of the bar across the street from where we are currently standing. But suddenly, a metallic thrumming noise starts from the alley way to our left.

"Can you guys hear that or is it just me?" Sam, the younger Winchester, asks with a confused yet curious expression on his face.

"Never get a break around here…" Dean mutters quietly under his breath. The three of us start walking towards the alley where the noise appears to be coming from. At the end of the narrow aisle, a strange blue blur is appearing in and out of my vision. Is this some kind of demon trick?

The three of us inch our way to the strange sight ahead of us at the end of the alley, weapons in our hands. The blue blur takes a few seconds until it starts to materialize into an actual sight. A blue box with the words 'Police Phone Box' stand in front of me and it comes in and out of my view a few more times before it stops.

"Uh, Cas. Any idea here?" Dean asks me with wide eyes. I don't reply because honestly, I'm just as clueless right now. So instead I just shrug and the three of us start to move closer to the box ahead.

Out of nowhere though, the door is burst open by a man with a bow tie and shaggy brown hair who quickly takes in the sight of myself and the two Winchesters on either side of me as well as our, not so concealed, weapons.

"Uh, there's no need for weapons. I'm not here to hurt you." The man says with his hands slightly up as if in surrender. What is this blue box? I've never seen something like this. It just appeared... seemingly out of thin air.

"Who are you and what the hell is that?" Dean shouts at the man in apprehension and fear of the unknown.

"I'm the Doctor and this is the TARDIS. She's my ship. Who are you?" The Doctor asks.

"This is Dean and Sam Winchester," I say with glances at the two hunters. ", and my name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord." I say to the man in front of me.

"An angel? Well, I haven't seen an angel in centuries. Please come in. Let me show you around." The Doctor says, ushering us all into his TARDIS. Seen an angel? So he's met my kind before...

Who is this man? I have never heard of this Doctor, although he seems to know of my kind. Walking into the box, I look around and stop. I can vaguely hear Dean shouting how we won't all fit in here, but stepping into the box, I see that it is bigger on the inside. How? This technology is more advanced than humans possess. If only I was an angel… then maybe I could do something. But I do not believe this man wants to hurt us.

"Cas, man. Get out of there." I hear Dean shout from the outside. The Doctor leans against what looks like the control console of this contraption.

"Dean, Sam. It's fine. There's nothing to fear. We'll all easily fit." I shout back to the two brothers standing outside. "What is this?" I ask the Doctor who has gone to a screen behind me and is looking at it intently and focused.

Behind me, Sam and Dean slowly and anxiously walk into the Tardis, guns in hand. "Weapons away. You won't be hurt in here." The Doctor says with a glance at the two and a confused glance towards me. Why?

"Y/N, come in here. We have guests." The man with the bow tie exclaims out of nowhere.

"No need to shout. I'm here." A girl with (Y/H/C) hair comes bouncing down the glass stairs on my left. Wow. She's beautiful. I've never seen a girl like her. The way she walks with such confidence. "Who are these people Doctor?" She asks the man with a friendly smile.

"Y/N, this is Sam and Dean Winchester. They stopped the apocalypse." He says motioning to the two behind me. Wait, How does he know that? Both are still looking in awe at their surroundings when they finally notice the girl called Y/N. Their eyes are focused on the girl in front of us and both walk forwards to be closer. She is stunning.

"Hello." She says with a soft angelic voice."I'm (Y/N) (L/N). This is the TARDIS. It's bigger on the inside due to sciency things, but I'm sure the Doctor hasn't explained a thing to you, going by your expressions that is." She says with a laugh towards the Doctor. "I guess you've never been in a time machine before. Wait apocalypse?" She says with a shock at the end, changing the subject.

"Against Lucifer." I offer to her. Turning her head, her (E/C) eyes meet my ice blue ones and all over I feel a warm feeling.

"Lucifer. What like the devil?" She asks and I nod my head as an answer, not being able to keep my eyes off her. "Huh, I thought they were just old stories you know, hell, heaven. In the future, religion really isn't a big thing. Nearly non-existent. Oh and you are?" She finally asks for my name in a sweet voice. Religion isn't a big thing, the future?

"Did you say the future?" Sam asks the girl. Her head turns away from me before I can answer and she starts to talk to Sam. For some reason I feel disappointment and another strange feeling to her talking to another man.

"Yes. I'm not from this time. I'm from the 51st century and live in what you would call London. Doctor what's going on?" She asks confidently. Her eyes shine with hope and dreams... and even a bit of rebelliousness.

"I found them outside. I've been wanting to meet you three for a long time. The ones that stopped armaggedon and that fight between the two archangels." The Doctor says whilst rapidly turning to us. His eyes are blazing with curiosity. "You've never met an angel have you (Y/N)?" He asks the girl.

"No. I haven't. Why? One of you aren't angels are you?" She says with the same curiosity in her bright (E/C) eyes as the Doctor. Her eyes shift amongst the three of us.

"My name is Castiel, I'm an angel of the Lord... or was." I say,my eyes falling to the glass floor.

"I was wondering about that. Where is your grace Castiel?" The Doctor asks, looking between the screen and I. That must be why he keeps looking at me strangely.

"Heaven was closed up and the angels fell. My grace was stolen by another angel, thus making me human."

"All angels fell?" (Y/N) asks me, stepping forward slightly.

"The trials right?" The Doctor asks. I don't say anything but stand in silent shock. How could he know that? "I'll take your silence as a yes." He says before checking more equipment on the console.

"How the hell do you know so much?" Dean asks angrily, obviously getting annoyed at the man's vagueness about himself. "Who are you?"

"You haven't told them?" The girl asks with a shake of her head before leaning on the console.

"I'm getting to it." The doctor replies, waving his hands at her to stop leaning on the controls. "So I'm the Doctor. I'm a Timelord from the planet Gallifrey and I'm very old. I'm basically a madman with a box." He says quickly, seeming to be in a rush. Timelord? I've never heard of a Timelord or Gallifrey before. "Okay, you guys ready?"

"Ready? For what?" Sam asks the man.

"An adventure." The Doctor says with an excited glint in his eyes before pulling down a lever. Then the doors shut and the room lurches up slightly. The metallic thrumming noise is heard again from the centre console of the room and everyone immediately goes to hold onto something to stop themselves from falling down. Sam, Dean and I are still in shock whereas (Y/N) and the Doctor are just laughing giddily to themselves.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean shouts from beside me.

"Wait and see." (Y/N) says calmly. Once the room stops shaking, the Doctor and (Y/N), who seems to be a companion of sorts, walk out of the room and step out of the doors. "Come on guys." She calls to us. Looking at each other, we slowly walk out the TARDIS and are shocked to see that we've moved.

"What..." Sam says, not being able to think of a solution for our shift in space. Laughing, (Y/N) and the Doctor look at us all and just walk around the place, commenting on the different species of people around us. Apparently we are not on Earth anymore and are on a planet far away. The Doctor says he just wanted us to see something and felt random at the time. I get the feeling that this is a normal occurrence with him.

During the day, the three of us had become settled into the new enviroment, Sam asking the Doctor plenty of questions about the universe and Dean trying every food he came across. I went a separate way, following (Y/N) as she showed me plenty of different things from a variety of cultures.

"Hey Cas. You hungry?" She asked me as she pulled me towards a cafe of sorts. "This place has great food. You'll love it." For some reason, I felt a connection towards this human girl from the future. She was beautiful, but it was more than that. I felt like I'd known her my whole life.

"Yes. I am actually." I answered to which she just smiled a breathtaking smile and pulled me to a table near a water display of sorts.

"Any idea what you want?" She asked me and when I looked at the menu I had no idea. As an angel, I never required food, but now, as a human, it was needed to keep me alive. Shaking my head at her, she smiled and ended up ordering for the both of us. "You'll like it, I swear." She says to me before starting on her food once it had arrived. I copied her way of eating, with both hands, the strange yet delicious food. I hummed in delight at the food in my hands.

All day I had been getting to know (Y/N) better, both of us asking questions about the other. She was interested in the fact that I was once an angel as she said that she had never heard of my kind. "(Y/N), if you don't mind me asking, but why did you join the Doctor on his trips?" I anxiously asked, hoping I hadn't 'crossed a line' as Dean says.

"Why not?" She replies with a laugh. "I had nothing keeping me home and I saw an opportunity to see the stars. Plus, I couldn't not go. Who wouldn't want to see the whole of time and space?" Thankfully I hadn't upset her but I'm curious as to what she means by 'having nothing to keep her home'.

"Why wouldn't you have anything at home?" I ask quietly. Her face dropped and I immediately started to regret my question. "I... I'm sorry. Forget I asked." I hurriedly say before she cuts me off.

"No it's fine, Cas. Really..." She says before stopping for a second. "My parents gave me away when I was a child and I grew up in an orphanage with a bunch of other kids. I never had a real family and all I had when I was older was my job. I was a soldier in the army but I lost my friends and squad due to an attack and I couldn't carry on. So I left the army and met the Doctor. We've been travelling together ever since..." She says and my hand immediately finds hers. I don't know why, but her soft small delicate hand in mine feels right.

Smiling at her, I become lost in her eyes. Bright with happiness yet hurt from her past at the same time. A slap on my back brings me out of my thoughts, and I notice how I had unconsciously moved closer to her. Both of us jump away from the close proximity and I turn around to see the Doctor along with the Winchesters smiling at us knowingly.

"Well. As much fun as the day has been, you should probably get back. Come on. I'll take you three back home in the TARDIS now." The Doctor states before walking back to the blue box that brought (Y/N) to me.

Walking with Dean and Sam, the two ask me about (Y/N). "So what? You like her?" Dean asks with a grin.

"Maybe...I don't know." I answer but like isn't a strong enough word. There's just a connection between us two and I feel like she can see into my soul, if angels had one that is.

The two brothers laugh but quieten down by the time we arrive back at the TARDIS. All five of us enter the room and the Doctor immediately starts to set the controls to our time. The Winchesters and (Y/N) laugh about the differences between the present and the future as well as things they have seen today. The TARDIS starts making the same metallic thrumming noise and after a few seconds the Doctor opens the doors with a click of his fingers and I can see we are back where we started.

"Well. It was nice meeting you three. Today has been fun. If you ever have any alien trouble give me a call." The Doctor says before turning around to look at the screen once again.

"See ya Doc, Bye (Y/N)." Dean calls out with a wave before stepping out of the box.

"Yeah. Bye guys." Sam says before following his brother. Now I have to leave. I probably won't see her again.

"Goodbye Doctor. (Y/N)," I say, walking up to her where she is standing at the door saying goodbye to Sam and Dean. "I'll miss you. Goodbye." I reluctantly say before walking out of the box.

"Goodbye Castiel. I hope we meet again." She says with a smile and bright (E/C) eyes. She turns to close the door but I quickly grab her wrist.

"Stay with me." I ask her, wanting nothing more than to kiss her in that moment.

"I can't. I'm sorry. The Doctor... needs me. He can't be alone. It's not good for him." She answers, looking back at the Doctor worryingly. She told me how close the two were. Almost like brother and sister.

"Oh..." I say. Disappointment showing clearly on my face. "Well. Then I guess this is it." I reply, letting go of her wrist reluctantly. My hands already missing the contact.

She steps forward suddenly and grabs my face within her hands. She looms down at my lips before flitting her gaze to my ice blue eyes. I lean into her touch until I feel her soft lips brush against mine. I lose myself in the kiss, forgetting about the fact that I'll never see her again. My hands reach up to twist in her (H/L) (H/C) hair. After a minute we break apart.

She pulls away and steps backwards, back into the blue box behind her. "Goodbye Cas." She says with a sad smile that doesn't reach her eyes before closing the door between us. My shoulders visibly fall at that moment. Already missing the warmth I felt whenever she was near. After a few seconds the TARDIS starts humming that metallic noise and the wind around us starts to pick up slightly.

"Cas. You okay?" Dean asks me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"No. But she'll be happy with the Doctor. Seeing the stars." And with that I walked away, never forgetting the girl that stole my heart within a day. Hopefully I'll see her again...

[beatlejuice64]

Destiel: Season 8 - A catalog of Supernatural episodes

A catalog of each episode in Supernatural that features scenes related to Destiel. This includes scenes between Dean and Castiel, scenes with other characters that address their relationship with each other, and scenes that allude to Dean’s bisexuality. 

Season 8 Summary Analysis

Cas does whatever he can to keep Dean safe while in Purgatory. Dean is determined to rescue Cas from Purgatory and blames himself for failing to do so. Dean suffers intense survivor’s guilt at losing Cas there, and he’s thrilled when Cas returns. When Cas reveals that he didn’t want to be saved and won’t go back to heaven because of the shame he feels, Dean makes space for his vulnerability. Cas grows more distant as he is brainwashed by Naomi, but Dean’s profession of love for Cas helps him resist her command to kill Dean. Dean is hurt when Cas leaves with the angel tablet, and Cas desperately tries to make things right by working with Metatron.

My interpretation: Cas and Dean grow closer during the time that Dean and Sam spend apart. Dean represses his love for Cas for most of the season, but he starts to grow more comfortable with his bisexuality over time, particularly through Charlie’s influence. When Cas disappears for a while mid-season, Dean realizes just how much he needs Cas and misses him. Dean was able to let go of his friendship with Benny, but he realizes that he can’t make the same choice with Cas. Dean finally voices his feelings for Cas in episode 17 (the line “We’re family” was originally written to be “I love you” Source: https://fandomdebunker.tumblr.com/post/64507789422/the-rumor-that-jensen-confirmed-the-i-love-you). Naomi recognizes that Castiel’s primary source of rebelliousness comes from his feelings for Dean, and she thinks that training him to kill Dean will stamp out his love for humanity and free will. When Cas breaks free of Noami’s mind control, his desperation to make things right with Dean leads him to be taken advantage of by Metatron.

8.01 We Need to Talk about Kevin

Cas leaves Dean when they first get to Purgatory to protect him from Leviathan that are hunting him.

When Benny approaches Dean with an offer to escape Purgatory, Dean insists that they find Cas first.

8.02 What’s Up, Tiger Mommy?

Dean is relieved to find Cas in Purgatory. He gives him a big hug and compliments him on the beard he has grown: “Nice peach fuzz.”

Cas is not exactly happy to see Dean, and he explains that he left Dean on purpose when they first got to Purgatory. Dean says he prayed to Cas every night after he left and is upset to find out that Cas heard him and chose not to respond. Cas explains that he’s been keeping his distance from Dean to keep the Leviathan away from him: “I have a price on my head, and I’ve been trying to stay one step ahead of them, to keep them away from you.”

Dean tries to convince Cas to go with him to escape Purgatory: “Cas, buddy, I need you.” “Let me bottom-line it for you—I’m not leaving here without you. Understand?”

Cas is concerned for Dean’s safety, but agrees to go with him and Benny.

8.05 Blood Brother

Cas repeatedly expresses concern that the doorway out of Purgatory will not work for him, and Benny complains that Castiel’s presence is going to get them killed because he draws the monsters to them. Dean remains stubborn that Cas should stay with them and that he will find a way to get Cas out.

8.07 A Little Slice of Kevin

In Purgatory, Cas appreciates Dean‘s efforts to save him: “I’m just saying, if it doesn’t work, thank you for everything.”

Dean starts seeing Cas in random places intermittently—on the side of the road, out the window. Sam tries to console Dean, who is still dwelling on losing Cas in Purgatory: “You know, I could’ve pulled him out. I just don’t understand why he didn’t try harder.” “Dean, you did everything you could.” “Yeah, but why do I feel like crap?” “Survivor’s guilt? If you let it, this is gonna keep messing with you. You gotta walk past it.”

Dean is happy but incredulous when Cas shows up for real.

When Cas comes out of the bathroom after getting cleaned up, the camera pans up on him slowly, and Dean shifts in his chair. When Cas asks, “Better?” Sam looks over to Dean, who nods awkwardly.

Cas is pained to learn that Dean blames himself for not saving him: “It’s like you just gave up. It’s like you didn’t believe we could do it. I mean you kept saying that you didn’t think it would work. Did you not trust me? I did everything I could to get you out—everything! I did not leave you.” “So you think this is your fault?”

When going to save Kevin, Dean shows concern for Castiel’s safety since his powers haven’t fully returned: “That was a bonehead move back there. You could’ve gotten yourself killed. Why didn’t you wait for me?” “Well, I didn’t get killed, and it worked.” “And if it didn’t?” “It would’ve been my problem.” “Well, that’s not that way I see it.”

Cas tries to help Dean understand that he shouldn’t feel responsible for everyone around him: “Hey, everything isn’t your responsibility. Getting me out of Purgatory wasn’t your responsibility.” “You didn’t get out, so whose fault was it?” “It’s not about fault. It’s about will. ... You remembered it the way you needed to.” “Look, I don’t need to feel like hell for failing you, okay? For failing you like I’ve failed every other godforsaken thing that I care about. I don’t need it!”

When Cas explains that he wanted to punish himself, Dean is visibly concerned: “See, it wasn’t that I was weak. I was stronger than you. I pulled away. Nothing you could have done would have saved me, because I didn’t want to be saved.” “What the hell are you talkin’ about?” “It’s where I belonged. I needed to do penance. After the things I did on earth and in heaven, I didn’t deserve to be out, and I saw that clearly when I was there. I planned to stay all along. I just didn’t know how to tell you. You can’t save everyone, my friend, though you try.”

8.08 Hunter Heroici

While talking to Cas, Dean makes a reference to Vermont, one of the few states that has legalized gay marriage (the first state to do it through legislation): “So what now? Move to Vermont, open up a charming B&B?”

Cas says he wants to become a hunter and be Sam and Dean’s “third wheel.”

Dean teases Cas when Sam outsmarts him with his superior detective skills: “Strike one, Sherlock.”

Cas learns more about humanity and social interaction from working the case with Dean and Sam.

When Cas starts rifling through Dean’s toiletry bag and says he’ll stay in their hotel room, it makes Dean uncomfortable: “Cas, you gonna book a room or what?” “No, I’ll stay here.” “Oh, okay. Yeah, we’ll have a slumber party, braid Sam’s hair. Where are you gonna sleep?” “I don’t sleep.” “Okay, well, I need my four hours, so...” “I’ll watch over you.” “That’s not gonna happen.”

Cas is annoyed when Dean asks him to lift a heavy anvil—he wants to prove that he’s worth more than just his supernatural powers.

As Cas is looking though John’s journal, Dean asks him how he’s doing and shows genuine concern for his well-being. When Cas gets defensive, Dean makes space for Castiel’s feelings of vulnerability: “How you feeling, Cas?” “I’m fine.” “Well, I just... I know that when I got puked out of Purgatory, it took me a few weeks to find my sea legs.” “I’m fine.” “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you’re back. I’m freakin’ thrilled. It’s just this whole mysterious resurrection thing, always has one mother of a downside.” “So what do you want me to do?” “Maybe take a trip upstairs.” “To heaven?” “Yeah, poke around, see if the God squad can’t tell us how you got out.” “No.” “Look, man, I hate those flyin’ ass monkeys just as much as you do, but...” “Dean! I said no!” “Talk to me.” “Dean, I... when I was bad, and I had those things, the leviathans, writhing inside me, I caused a lot of suffering on Earth, but I devastated heaven. I vaporized thousands of my own kind, and I... I can’t go back.” “‘Cause if you do, the angels will kill you.” “Because if I see what heaven’s become, what I made of it, I’m afraid I might kill myself.”

When an old woman flirts with Cas, he is visibly uncomfortable, but Dean is amused by it.

Dean compliments Cas and appreciates his help on the case: “Cas, you get to ride shotgun. You done good.”

Dean is disappointed when Cas says he won’t be sticking around with him and Sam.

8.10 Torn and Frayed

Naomi sends Cas to rescue Samandriel, and he seeks out Dean’s help. He shows up while Dean is sleeping and watches him for a while. When Dean wakes up to see Cas standing over him, he’s startled: “Damn it, Cas. How many times I gotta tell you, it’s just creepy!” (Apparently, this has happened many times before.)

Dean tries to hide his porn from Cas when he opens his laptop (note: he never tries to hide his porn from Sam). Cas reacts awkwardly, almost as if he’s curious to see it, but he looks away to protect Dean’s privacy.

With Sam gone, Dean and Cas investigate on their own. Their interactions indicate a high level of closeness: “That’s his serious face, yes.”

Cas helps bring Dean and Sam back together. He recognizes that they need each other, even if they won’t admit it: “We need everything, Dean. And I need both of you, as you say, to stow your crap. Can you do that?”

When Castiel’s eye starts bleeding from Naomi’s mind control, Dean expresses concern for his well-being. He also picks up on the fact that Cas has been acting strangely.

8.11 LARP and the Real Girl

When Dean talks about letting go of relationships, Charlie thinks he’s referring to a break-up of his own: “Trust me, this life, you can’t afford attachments. You just gotta let go.” “Are we still talking about Sam, or did you break up with someone, too?” (Dean could be referencing either Benny or Cas here.)

8.13 Everybody Hates Hitler

When Aaron flirts with Dean at a bar, Dean gets flustered and acts super awkward about it. Dean tries to make the excuse that he’s on an FBI case and cannot fraternize, but he stumbles over a chair on his way out: “I’m sorry, man. I hope I didn’t freak you out or anything.” “No! No. I’m not freaked out. It’s just a, you know, a federal thing.” (In previous years, Dean might have told the guy that he isn’t interested because he doesn’t swing that way, but in this instance, he doesn’t reject the idea outright.)

When speaking to Sam, Dean refers to the bar interaction as “a gay thing.” When he finds out that Aaron was just tailing him, he takes it in stride: “That was really good. You really had me there. That’s very smooth.”

8.16 Remember the Titans

Dean hasn’t heard from Cas in a long time, so he prays to him for help with Sam, exhibiting the implicit trust he has for Cas: “Cas, you got your ears on? Listen, you know I am not one for prayin’, ‘cause in my book, it’s the same as beggin’. But this is about Sam, so I need you to hear me. We are going into this deal blind, and I don’t know what’s ahead, or what it’s gonna bring for Sam. Now, he’s covering pretty good, but I know that he is hurting, and this one was supposed to be on me. So for all that we’ve been through, I’m asking you... you keep a lookout for my little brother, okay?”

Dean has grown accustomed to Cas always being there for him, and he’s disappointed and downhearted when Cas doesn’t respond to his prayer: “Where the hell are you, man?”

8.17 Goodbye Stranger

We find out that Naomi has been training the brainwashed Cas to kill Dean.

Naomi wants Cas to continue lying to Dean and Sam, but he tries (and fails) to convince her that they would be more helpful if they knew the truth about his search for the angel tablet.

Dean is pissed off that Cas is behaving standoffish with him and recognizes that something isn’t right: “Well, he puts the ‘ass’ in ‘Cas,’ huh?” “He’s definitely off.” “Off? He hasn’t been right since he got back from Purgatory. We still don’t know how he got out of there.” “I don’t know, Dean. If he’s so sketchy, then why were you praying to him?”

When Sam and Dean find out Cas had lied to them, Dean takes it personally, but Sam doesn’t.

Meg flirts with Cas as he treats her wounds, and he doesn’t deny that he has a fondness for her. He even admits to enjoying the kiss they shared the previous season, and he seems to express interest in further sexual experiences: “These wounds have festered.” “You really do know how to make a girl’s nethers quiver, don’t you?” “I am aware of how to do that, although it doesn’t usually involve cleaning wounds.” “Why are you so sweet on me, Clarence?” “I don’t know, and I still don’t know who Clarence is.” “Would it kill you to watch a movie, read a book?” “A movie, no. But a book? With the proper spells, yeah, it could theoretically kill me.” “You know, you’re much cuter when you’re shutting up. So which Cas are you now? Original make and model or crazy town?” “I’m just me.” “So your noodle’s back in order?” “Yeah, my noodle remembers everything. I think it’s a pretty good noodle.” “Really. You remember everything?” “If you’re referring to the pizza man, yes, I remember the pizza man. And it’s a good memory.”

When Dean refuses to give the angel tablet to Cas, Naomi orders Cas to kill him. Cas tries (and fails) to convince her to let him reason with Dean instead: “I can reason with Dean. He’s a good man.”

Cas tries to resist Naomi’s mind control: “This isn’t right.” “Do you realize what that tablet can do for us? For heaven?” “I won’t hurt Dean.” “Yes, you will. You ARE.” “What have you done to me?”

Even as Cas is attacking him, Dean still believes that Cas would not hurt him on purpose: “Cas, fight this! This is not you! Fight it!”

Cas nearly kills Dean, but he stops at the last second after Dean professes his love for him. Cas chooses Dean over heaven (again): “Cas, I know you’re in there. I know you can hear me. Cas, it’s me. We’re family. We need you. I need you.”

After the tablet breaks Cas free from Naomi, he heals Dean by cupping his face in his hand (as opposed to touching his forehead as he’s done before). He is appalled at what he’s done to Dean.

Dean is pissed off when Cas leaves with the tablet.

8.18 Freaks and Geeks

Sam asks Dean if he’s okay after getting pummeled by Cas, recognizing that it was probably an emotionally traumatizing experience. Dean brushes him off with humor to avoid talking about it: “Cas dinged you up pretty good.” “And?” “And I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” “What, like my feelings?” “If that’s what you want to talk about, sure.” “K, I’ll tell you what? Why don’t I go get some, uh, herbal tea, and you can find some cowboy junkies on the dial, and you know what? We’ll just talk it out.”

8.19 Taxi Driver

Naomi tries to convince Dean that she is trustworthy and that Cas was misguided, but Dean defends Cas and chooses to believe his side of the story: “Now Castiel is in the wind with a Hydrogen bomb in his pocket, and I’m scared for all of us.” “Save it. See, I don’t trust angels, which means I don’t trust you.” “And yet you haven’t warded this place against us. I know, you’re hoping Castiel will return to you. I admire your loyalty. I only wish he felt the same way. I know you don’t wanna believe it, Dean, but we’re on the same side—shutting the gates of hell, bringing Castiel in from the cold. Take a moment. Think about what I’ve said.”

8.20 Pac-Man Fever

While talking with Dean, Charlie refers to Cas as “dreamy.” (This is most likely for Dean’s benefit since we know from previous episodes that Charlie is only romantically interested in women.)

After sharing a traumatic emotional experience together, Charlie and Dean grow closer. Charlie’s influence helps Dean accept his feelings of vulnerability, which leads him to show affection for Sam and stop coddling him out of fear of losing him. Dean develops a deep respect for Charlie, and her example of self-acceptance also leads Dean to be more accepting of his own emotions.

8.21 The Great Escapist

Cas quotes Dean in defiance against Naomi: “In the words of a good friend, ‘Bite me!’”

8.22 Clip Show

When Cas returns, he apologizes to Dean, but Dean is angry at him. Dean is still hurt that Cas didn’t trust him with the angel tablet: “Dean, I’m sorry.” “For what?” “For everything.” “Everything. Like, uh, like ignoring us?” “Yes.” “Or like bolting off with the angel tablet, then losing it ‘cause you didn’t trust me? You didn’t trust ME.” “Yes.” “Yeah. Nah, that’s not gonna cut it. Not this time. So you can take your little apology and you cram it up your ass.” “Dean, I thought I was doing the right thing.” “Yeah, you always do.”

Sam tries to convince Dean to let up on Cas, but Dean is having trouble letting go of his hurt: “Dude, go easy on Cas, okay? He’s one of the good guys.” “Look, if anybody else, I mean anybody, pulled that kind of crap, I would stab ‘em in their neck on principle. Why should I give him a free pass.” “Because it’s Cas.”

After watching the exorcism video, Dean continues to be standoffish with Cas, who is frustrated that Dean won’t seem to give him a chance: “Dean, I just wanna help.” “We don’t need your help! Just stay here, and... get better.”

In an effort to ingratiate himself with Dean, Cas goes to a convenience store to pick up supplies, including jerky, Busty Asian Beauties, beer, and pie. When the clerk says they’re out of pie, Cas grabs him insistently: “You don’t understand. I NEED pie.”

Out of a desperate desire to make things right with heaven and with Dean, Cas unwittingly agrees to help Metatron, who takes advantage of his emotional vulnerability.

8.23 Sacrifice

When Cas comes to Dean for help to save Metatron from the other angels, he agrees to do it, despite the tension between them.

While waiting for a cupid to show up, Dean and Cas reconcile at the bar because they think this might be the last time they get to see each other: “Talk to me. You sure about this? I mean, it’s one thing, me and Sammy slamming the gates to the pit, but you, you’re boarding up heaven, and you’re lockin’ the door behind you.” “Yeah, I know.” “You did a lot of damage up there, man. You think they’re just gonna let that slide?” “Do you mean do I think they’ll kill me? Yeah, they might.” “So this is it. E.T. Goes home.”

When Dean realizes the cupid set up two men to fall in love, he’s awkwardly dumbfounded. (Dean’s deeply ingrained heteronormative worldview continues to trip him up, but this instance helps chip away at his social conditioning.)

When Sam collapses after stopping the third trial, Dean calls out to Cas for help.

[unityghost]

Chasing Answers

Here we are again with part 22 of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels, originally posted on Archive of Our Own.

Some of this story was inspired by a suggestion from @letbuckyeathisgoddamnplums​ on Archive:

The only point where I'm not sure if I like [the way Sam and Gabriel communicate] is the second part where Sam coaxes that confession out of Gabe, even though he clearly doesn't want to talk about it. I mean at some point he would have brought it up by himself when he was ready for it.

You were right, so thank you! (But I won't change my stance on pasta with ketchup.) For further context, see part 20, "Resurrection."

There are a few cagey (see what I did there, Sam?) references to sexual assault in this story. It’s safe to assume that most of these works contain such content.

At the moment I’m not taking prompts/requests because I have, like, fifty million that I haven’t yet followed up on. But you’re always welcome to leave suggestions as to what you would be interested in seeing more of in this series.

Thank you for reading!

By the time they reached the bedroom, Gabriel was facedown on the floor, tangled in blankets and screaming for help.

“Oh my god!” Sam sprinted over to him while everyone else - Dean, Castiel, and Jack - watched from the doorway, as taken aback as Sam was.

Gabriel’s face was coated in tears, mucous, and saliva, and he was sobbing so violently he kept breaking into coughing fits, gasping for breath, on the edge of vomiting.

Sam tried to tug the blankets off of him so that he would have room to move. But the second he touched him, Gabriel began clawing at his lap. Then he lowered his face to Sam’s knee, seized handfuls of his pajama top, and cried harder.

Astonished, Sam laid a hand on the back of Gabriel’s head.

“Can … can we help?” asked Jack.

Sam turned around. “Give us a minute. I don’t think he’s gonna want a crowd.”

“But - ”

“Not yet. Not yet, Jack, okay? Let me see what I can do first.”

“No!” Gabriel howled, and Sam’s eyes snapped back to him. “No, no, no, no - ”

“Ssh, it’s okay,” Sam murmured. “Come on, hey, hey, it’s me. Just me. Guys, I really think - ”

“Just come give us an update when you can,” said Dean, whose eyes were trained on Gabriel; and it occurred to Sam that Dean probably hadn’t seen this version of him.

“I will,” Sam promised.

They made their exit, but Castiel looked back, surveying the scene as if searching for evidence that it was better for him to remain.

“Cas,” Sam said, “Just give us a minute.”

“Right. Yes. Of course. Um … like Dean said. Come find us when you get a chance.”

When Castiel was gone, Sam shifted his attention back to Gabriel. “Okay, easy, Gabriel, easy. I know you’re scared but it’s only me. You’re safe. You’re all right.”

Gabriel was overcome with another seizure of coughing and gagging. All Sam could do was whisper that there was no danger, and that it was time to calm down.

After a few minutes, Gabriel shuddered and raised his head to stare up at Sam with wild eyes.

“Are you with me?” asked Sam.

Gabriel responded with a sound somewhere between choking and sobbing. Sam pushed some of the sweaty hair from his forehead. “Let’s get you back into bed. You got caught in the covers, huh? Here - ” He loosened the sheets from Gabriel’s legs and torso, then helped ease him onto the mattress. The fitted sheet had come halfway off.

Sam sat beside him. “Are you okay? Can you look at me?”

Gabriel did. His face was flushed.

Sam smiled. “Okay. Okay, good. I’m the only one here, all right?”

Gabriel nodded and leaned against him. He was trembling, his breathing shallow and erratic.

“Gabriel, what happened?” Sam asked softly.

Gabriel didn’t say anything.

“Gabe? Hey. Can you tell me - ”

“Don’t do that.” Gabriel’s voice was hoarse and shaky.

“Don’t do what?”

“Make me tell you. Don’t make me tell you when I can’t tell you. I can’t do it. I can’t. Not now. Don’t, please. Please don’t.

Sam frowned. “I won’t make you talk.”

“I owe it to you, I know. When you waste time on me and I don’t give you some kind of explanation for it - that’s bad. I know. I’m sorry.”

Sam shook his head in bewilderment. “You don’t owe me anything. And you’re not wasting my time.”

“Don’t force me, please - just don’t.”

“I wouldn’t force you. Why - ”

“My grace.”

“Your grace?”

“Back in - wherever we were. Raleigh. Rockefeller Center. Russia.”

“Rhode Island?”

“There, when you fought off that spirit. It was hard to tell you about my grace, about why I was afraid of having it back. And you had to know. Wasn’t ready but you wanted me to be so I had to be.”

Sam thought back to their exchange in the motel. Gabriel had been weak and flustered after an unexpected spasm of grace strong enough to heal Sam from an attack. Sam was elated at the reappearance of Gabriel’s powers. But Gabriel had seemed disturbed, and before he could explain what was wrong - that he expected emotional healing to accompany grace replenishment, that he felt useless to Sam and the others - Sam had …

Had what?

He remembered how reluctant Gabriel had been to elaborate - how it had taken persistence to get him to explain his reaction.

Had he really bullied Gabriel into telling the truth?

Ashamed, Sam wrapped an arm around Gabriel. “Well, that’s one thing you definitely should’ve told me. How come you didn’t?”

Gabriel was silent, and Sam saw what should have been obvious: he was afraid of Sam getting angry or taking offense. He was afraid of punishment.

“Okay,” Sam said quietly. “Okay, well, I’m glad you told me. I’m sorry, Gabriel.”

“Not your fault. It isn’t your fault.” He shivered against Sam. “You have every right to know what’s going on with me.”

“That’s not - it’s just that since you’ve told me so much, and I know how … how ugly things were for you … and how bad it still gets …” Sam took a deep breath. “If I know something’s destroying you from the inside out, eating you alive, and I can’t do anything about it - I worry. About you, and about whether I’m doing enough to help you feel safe. If I’ve been doing the opposite - ”

Gabriel shook his head. “Not a lot.”

Sam’s throat tightened. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about the dream.”

“Did I get everybody out of bed?”

“Well, technically Cas doesn’t go to bed in the first place.”

“Damn it.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Jack was worried - you know how he is. And Dean was a little at a loss, I think.”

“I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of nothing.”

“Don’t say that. It was a bad dream. It scared you.”

“No.” Gabriel pressed himself closer to Sam. “I wasn’t scared. I mean, I was, yes, but not - not like I should’ve been.”

Sam frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m the wrong kind of scared.” Then, before Sam could challenge this logic: “If I tell you about it, you might think I … that I … ”

He trailed off. The color had begun to drain from his face and his breathing sounded hoarse.

Sam pulled away and held Gabriel at arm’s length, trying to ground him with eye contact. “I don’t know what you expect me to think. But I’m not gonna judge you for anything. What he did to you wasn’t your fault.”

“Everything I told you about him,” Gabriel sputtered, “About what he used to do to me, and the things he’d say.”

“What about them?”

“You’ll think they’re not enough.”

That perplexed Sam. “Not enough? Not enough for what?”

“You’ll think that at the end of the day he wasn’t such a bad guy after all.”

Immediately, without thinking, all Sam could do was laugh. Gabriel’s face lit up with terror.

“Sorry,” Sam said quickly. “It’s just - I can’t imagine thinking even one good thing about him. Asmodeus was a monster. I know that. You know I know that.”

“You won’t think I’ve actually been hurt. You’ll think I wasn’t really tortured. Or not bad enough, anyway. Not bad enough to need you so much.”

“I’d never think that!”

“But you might!”

“No. I won’t.”

Feverish and panicked, Gabriel reached out with both hands and caught Sam by the upper arm. “If I let him help me - if he was willing to offer help in the first place - how much damage could he really have done? He gave me what I asked for. Sometimes.”

Sam creased his brow. “You’re talking about what you told me before? About how he used to come and, I don’t know, give you a hug when you were crying?”

There were times I begged for him to help me, to hold me. Because I would’ve taken anyone. I just needed somebody to touch me.

“So much pain,” Gabriel stammered. “There was so much pain, so much pleading, so many temper tantrums like I was a self-righteous toddler who’d already had too many sweets and was still begging for more. And even then, Sam, even then, he listened. Mostly he didn’t, no, but sometimes he did. He’d come to me and try to console me.”

Now and again I let myself pretend that maybe he wouldn’t hurt me again.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I remember that.”

How could I ever get so low as to need him to stroke my hair and tell me I’d be all right? When within five minutes I was back on the floor and the only thing that shut me up was how much heavier than me he was?

It was a vision that had haunted Sam since he’d heard the story. There was something so peculiarly twisted about the image of Gabriel groveling for the comfort that Sam couldn’t imagine withholding from him.

What if you did that, Sam?

“I could trust him,” Gabriel went on, “Because the others - the guards, the other demons, anyone who came in to visit - they were dangerous; they were strangers. Asmodeus did the worst but he was right to hurt me. I had confidence in him; he was the only one I knew, the only one I had. I took what I could get, Sam. It felt so good when finally, finally, he listened to me yelling for help and told me I was okay.” Gabriel clenched his jaw. “When I woke up just now, there was this - this emptiness that I don’t know how to explain to you. I dreamed he was with me, that I’d been desperate and panicked and my throat was bloody from screaming and he came, Sam, he was there;but when I opened my eyes he wasn’t. Which is weird, because normally he won’t go away. But I needed - I felt like - I needed someone again because he’d left and I would have to … to beg for help, to start screaming for somebody again, and … and it had to be him.”

What if it was you?

When Sam answered, his voice wasn’t as steady as he’d meant it to be. “He’s not here anymore. It’s okay.”

“But that’s the problem, Sam. I just …”

Sam waited for him to go on, but it seemed that he couldn’t.

“Do you miss him?” was the only thing Sam could think to say.

That seemed to rekindle something in Gabriel. “Ew! No! He can suck a pinwheel. It’s just that when he was there, and then he wasn’t, and I needed someone, and he was the only one I had, then … you know, who else was I supposed to scream for?”

Sam wasn’t sure he understood, but he nodded. “Well, you don’t have to beg with me.”

Gabriel’s eyes fell on his hands, still clutching Sam’s upper arm. Surprise flickered over his face, as though he hadn’t realized what he was doing. Slowly, he let go. “I’m sorry.”

Sam studied him, screening for Gabriel’s usual symptoms of panic: tight, thin breathing; wide, vacant eyes; rhythmic moaning; the pallor of nausea.

Once Sam decided that Gabriel seemed a little better than he had a few moments ago, he offered a small smile. “You’re not sorry. Okay?”

Gabriel shrugged, and Sam hoped he hadn’t taken it as a threat.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” said Sam. “You’re sweaty.”

“Every time,” Gabriel muttered.

“I can change the sheets while you get in the shower.”

“No.” Gabriel sounded nervous again. “Don’t leave me alone. I - I can’t. I just can’t, not right now. Please.”

The last word made Sam’s blood run cold. “Sure, yeah, not if you don’t want to. It’s okay. But you might feel better if you get into some clean clothes, huh?”

“No, Sam, I don’t want - I can’t - ”

“Let me just make up the bed, then. Get you settled.”

Gabriel edged off of the mattress and bent down to retrieve the rumpled sheets for Sam, who said, “It’s okay, I got it,” and went to the closet to retrieve clean blankets. “Should I hang out for a little?”

There was silence, and Sam turned around. Gabriel looked like he was going to start crying again.

“Hey.” Sam dropped the sheets and came back over to him. “No, hey, we can wait to go back to bed.”

“I’m fine.” Gabriel took a slow, shaky breath. “I’m tired, and I’m delirious, and I’m … fine. Son of a bitch, that was a five-star meltdown. When was the last time I threw a fit like that? A month ago? Two?” He sat back down, staring at his knees, simultaneously horrified and bewildered. “I didn’t mean to, Sam.”

“I know.”

“Most of the time it’s not that unreasonable a demand on myself to remember where I am. At least not during the day. Letting myself sleep while I wait for my grace to get back to normal, it’s … that’s been a real game-changer.”

Sam took a seat beside him. “Everything feels different at night, doesn’t it?”

“It was like he … like I … be honest: am I making any sense here? Do you understand, sort of, what I’m getting at? I’m not trying to tell you I have some freaky Stockholm Asmodeus-sized hole in my heart. That’s not it. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not that.”

“Hmm.” Sam considered. “Yeah, I mean … it’s like you said, right? He was the only one you had.”

Gabriel nodded. “All I could think just now was, ‘Where did he go? What did I do? I need - I - ’” Gabriel tried to steady himself with a few deep breaths, but his face crumpled and he covered it with his hands. “‘I need him to come back.’”

Sam’s throat closed up as he watched Gabriel drag his knees to his chest and bury his hands in his hair, trying to make himself as small as he could. Somehow this felt different than simply trying to coax Gabriel out of the fear that so often paralyzed him after dark.

It wasn’t something Sam could remember ever having experienced in Hell. His torture had been different than Gabriel’s - from what Gabriel had told him, Asmodeus worked from the inside out, while Lucifer began with the skin - but it was generally easy to picture Lucifer engaging in so many of the psychological tortures Gabriel had cited.

This one - the practice of forcing Sam into loyalty, into something that Gabriel seemed, despite his denial, to read as something close to love - had no place in Sam’s memory.

Sam pulled Gabriel in for an embrace. “I’m here. You don’t need him.”

Gabriel jerked his head up, face streaked with tears. “I know I don’t need him! I know that, Sam! But I did then!”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but then realized that this wasn’t about trying to explain that Gabriel had never really needed Asmodeus to come and sit with him, to come and guide him through the same helplessness Sam handled now; there was no point in trying to convince him that Asmodeus had lied.

Because to Gabriel, in Hell, illusion mattered. There was no disentangling true and false when each had bled into the other while Gabriel was at the mercy of the storyteller.

“Well,” Sam said at last, “You don’t need him anymore.”

Gabriel didn’t reply.

“Gabriel? You know that, right? You need help. You need to feel safe. You don’t need him.”

Gabriel nodded but didn’t meet Sam’s eyes.

“All he ever did to you,” Sam continued, “Was make you feel like you deserved what you got. And taunting you by pretending like affection was some kind of - of privilege - ” Sam swallowed. “I hate that he did that to you, Gabriel. I hate that he made you believe in him like that.”

Gabriel looked up at him.

“Asmodeus was cruel,” Sam insisted. “He liked seeing you in pain. And the best way of doing that was to play with what you would’ve given anything for. He teased you, Gabriel. It was a filthy trick, and it wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes it was,” Gabriel replied in a high, strangled voice. “For letting him do it. For letting him - for - ”

“Ssh, try to calm down. I know it hurts.”

Gabriel dragged a shaking hand over his eyes. “It’s on me, Sam. It is. There’s no trying to mess around with that. Which is - ” He pulled away from Sam and squared his shoulders. “Which is fine. That’s all good and done, isn’t it? No way to get that opportunity back.”

“Opportunity for what?”

“For dignity. For strength.” Gabriel forced a smile. “Knowing you, you probably believe what you’re saying - that I was just some poor bloodied-up sap with no understanding of what I was doing. But I knew.” His features hardened. “I could hear myself, Sam. And let me tell you, it was a hell of an experience listening to all that screaming and crying in my voice. All because I didn’t want to be alone. Because I was desperate for …” His face twisted with revulsion. “For comfort. I don’t even know why. Just … I’d been beaten and stripped and torn apart and screamed at. Had my grace drained. Wanted to be told I’d be okay. Even if I knew it was a lie.”

“Gabriel …”

“What I really don’t understand is why I couldn’t not need him. And it’s the same with you; I can’t not need you, except with you it makes more sense because the worst you’ve ever done to me is give a stern spiel about how I shouldn’t go looking for an angel blade.”

Sam stiffened, disturbed both by the memory of how alarmed he’d been to hear Gabriel speak of self-destruction and of how harshly he himself had behaved in response.

“It’s okay that you need me,” he told Gabriel.

“It really isn’t. Not to me.”

Somehow this disappointed Sam. “Not even after all this time?”

“I thought it would be over by now. I thought I would be better. Stronger. Not like this.”

“You are doing better.”

“You know what I mean. Healed. I thought that even if I had to sleep at all, the nightmares would stop; I thought if the nightmares kept going, I’d be able to handle them on my own. I didn’t think I’d still be stuck like this. Like a baby. Even Jack, an actual baby, is more put-together than I am. You’re doing everything right, Sam. Everything. Well, except - I know I’ve said before that you should be letting me face this down without all the extra help. That I won’t get over it unless I practice sans Winchester.”

“Which isn’t true," Sam protested. And I’m not doing everything right. You gotta tell me when I make it worse. Like forcing you to say what you really don’t want to.”

Gabriel blinked, puzzled, as if he didn’t remember making such accusations. “That? It’s okay.”

“No. It’s not. I’m glad you let me know.”

“Uh. Well … that’s still not something you’re doing wrong, Sam. That’s just down to my own wimpiness. If I’m gonna be shrieking for a savior in the middle of the night, Messiah Sam should at least know what I’m whining about.”

“Gabe, no.” Sam offered his hand, and Gabriel, after a moment’s hesitation, accepted it. “I’m here to help, not file a report.”

Gabriel gazed down at their hands. Sam saw his eyes flicking back and forth, as if trying to memorize the placement of their fingers. “He didn’t listen. All I could do was scream for help, scream that I was sorry, scream that I needed him to come back. Screamed so hard I tore my damn throat and puked up blood.”

Sam nodded. “I remember you telling me that.”

“And even though I knew - of course I knew; I was insane, but not stupid - that he’d come back in there and kick me in the ribs for that, make me shove it back down my wounded gullet, I still didn’t want to be alone. I - someone. Him. He was all I - ”

“All you had.” Sam tightened his grip. “You have a lot more now. You’ve got me, and your brother, and my brother, and your nephew. And Gabriel, I’d never be able to live with myself if I left you to beg for comfort.”

“Well, you’ve got low standards for what’s worth your self-esteem.” Gabriel paused. “Remember when I spazzed out about that kid in the grocery store?”

“Peanut butter cookie boy.”

“Yeah. This isn’t too far from what was going on then. Because the second Asmodeus would leave, it’d be ‘no, come back, help me,’ and he’d get furious - ‘Why are you always wanting more, Gabriel? How is it that nothing is ever enough for your greedy ass?’”

“Don’t go down that road,” Sam warned, as gently as he could. “You’re going to get all worked up.”

“I know. I just - it was the same sort of mess. Pleading for him to come back. Always demanding more - exactly like I do with you.”

That took Sam by surprise. “You don’t do that.”

“Oh, please. Maybe I don’t prostrate myself like I did with him - unless you count just now - but I still can’t function without you. Whatever you do to pull me out of this, it’s never enough for me. Not because you’re doing a shit job, but because I’m flimsier than a stoned flatworm. And this is going to sound crazy, but the truth is I feel like maybe that’s because I know you, like I knew him, except I could trust him partly because he was doing the right thing by punishing me. And I can trust you because it seems like you’re doing the right thing by not punishing me. What am I supposed to believe, Sam? Because I’d really rather believe you.” His eyes shone with tears. “So I keep coming back to you, over and over again, hoping that sooner or later I’ll take you seriously.”

Sam took a few moments to gather his thoughts before offering a reply. “I don’t know how true that is.”

Still holding on to Sam’s hand, Gabriel cast him a look of confusion.

“I think,” Sam continued, “That it’s easier to tell yourself you’re chasing answers than admit that you’re so broken you need someone to make you feel safe. There’s not an end to that. Or there is, maybe, somewhere, but it isn’t a missing puzzle piece. It’s time and learning. You had to face so much violence, so much abuse, for such a long time, that the pain is just …” Sam cleared his throat. “I know, Gabriel. I know how hard it is to stop hurting. You don’t owe it to me or anyone else to be okay.”

A number of emotions clawed their way over Gabriel’s features: horror and relief, sorrow and gratitude, hunger and uncertainty.

“This isn’t about strategy or expectations,” Sam told him. “This is about you.”

Gabriel made a small, frightened sound. Sam had the sense that he wasn’t scared but simply overwhelmed, incapable of understanding - or accepting - Sam’s narrative.

“I’ve told you before,” Sam went on, softening his voice, “You’re sick and you need to let yourself get better. Part of that means not being so hard on yourself. You’re not responsible for what Asmodeus put you through and I’ll tell you that as many times as I gotta.”

He could feel Gabriel’s hand shaking in his, but opted not to comment on it. It was Gabriel’s turn to talk - or, if he preferred, to stay silent.

Finally, he pulled in a harsh breath through his nose. For a second Sam felt sure he was going to speak; but Gabriel remained quiet, squeezing Sam’s hand hard enough to cause pain, probably trying to root himself in the present.

Or perhaps this was another way of begging.

“You know, right?” said Sam. “You know that you don’t have to worry about being ignored. I’m here for you and so are the rest of us. Gabriel, the second we heard you screaming, we couldn’t think about anything else. All that mattered was making sure you knew you weren’t alone.”

Eyes fixed on the far wall, Gabriel moved his other hand so that both clutched at Sam’s.

“Hey,” Sam soothed, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I feel like I can’t get close enough. I don’t know how to explain it. I was alone for so long, isolated, cold - ”

“And more importantly, you’re not anymore, all right? Now you’re with us.”

“With you. Guys,” he added. “With you guys now. Yeah. Yes. Yeah.” Gingerly, Gabriel extricated his hands.

“You don’t have to do that,” Sam told him. “Doesn’t bother me if you want to be touched; it just bothers me that you’re afraid you might not get the opportunity.”

Gabriel shrugged, eyes trained on his lap. “It’s okay. Practice makes progress, right?”

Why was it, Sam wondered, that Gabriel was so convinced he needed to restrain himself from seeking affection? “Look … I know you still think you have some obligation to learn how to keep your distance and deal with everything by yourself. I do the same thing. I - ” He paused, surprised at what he had just said. It was not a fact he’d intended to disclose. “Anyway, that wouldn’t mean getting better, would it? It’d mean hiding. There’s a difference.”

Gabriel studied him, likely trying to process the halfway point of Sam’s lecture.

“It’s a good thing you haven’t forgotten how to look for help,” Sam insisted, intent upon redirecting the conversation. “Otherwise you would still be falling apart.”

Gabriel’s expression shifted into one of derision. “Because I’m so stoic these days.”

“No one’s pretending you’re all right, but you’ve come a long way.”

“How can you say that after the state you just found me in?”

“I didn’t say you always feel better. Sometimes though, right?”

Gabriel sighed. “Sometimes. But I owe you at least - ”

“You owe yourself a break. That’s the only thing you need to promise anyone.”

He spent half a minute waiting for Gabriel to respond, but Gabriel only leaned his head against Sam’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

“I’ll stay with you if you want to go back to sleep,” said Sam.

“I have a headache. Sleep sounds anything but appealing but I guess I at least need to lie down for a little.”

“Okay. Well, let me put on some fresh sheets.”

Gabriel slid to his feet and Sam began making up the bed.

“I mean,” said Gabriel, “You don’t have to stay, but - ”

“No, I want to. Wait - ” Sam shook his head. “Sorry, I know you don’t like that word. I keep forgetting.”

“I don’t care if you’re talking about wanting to do something. I’ll happily tell you ‘I want to drink some trauma cocoa’; I don’t want to say …” He tensed. “Don’t want to say ‘I want trauma cocoa.’ Things. I can’t want things.”

“Gotcha.”

“It’s weird, I know.”

“You’re trying to tell me about weird?” Sam finished tucking in the top sheet and tossed the bedspread over it. “You have no idea how high my standards for ‘weird’ are.”

“I have pretty high standards myself, and this is still messy.”

“You’re not exactly an impartial judge right now.”

“Mm.” Gabriel hesitated, then said, “I hope I don’t dream again. I can’t take another nightmare.”

“Even if you do, you’re not gonna have to scream. I’m here.”

“I don’t usually get that bad, right?”

“You don’t usually wake up in hysterics like that, no. Oh - hey, listen, before we go to sleep I need to let the others know things are okay. Can I leave you for just a minute?”

“Uh. Yes. Sure.”

“Should I tell them what’s going on? Why you were so upset?”

Gabriel frowned, contemplating. Then: “Tell my brother. Keep it under wraps otherwise. If you don’t mind.”

“They won’t judge you for it. It might help them help you.”

“Look, Jack can’t know because he doesn’t need that image stunting his growth; and Dean can’t know because - no offense - but I sort of don’t trust him not to judge me for it.”

“I have pretty high standards myself, and this is still messy.”

“You’re not exactly an impartial judge right now.”

“I hope I don’t dream again.” There was distress in Gabriel’s voice. “I can’t take another nightmare.”

“Even if you do, you’re not gonna have to scream. I’m here.”

“I don’t usually get that bad, right?”

“You don’t usually wake up in hysterics like that, no. Oh - hey, listen, before we go to sleep I need to let the others know things are okay. Can I leave you for just a minute?”

“Uh. Yes. Sure.”

“Should I tell them what’s going on? Why you were so upset?”

Gabriel frowned, contemplating. Then: “Tell my brother. Keep it under wraps otherwise. If you don’t mind.”

“They won’t judge you for it. It might help them help you.”

“Look, Jack can’t know because he doesn’t need that image stunting his growth; and Dean can’t know because - no offense - but I sort of don’t trust him not to judge me for it.”

“No one is going to - ”

“Please, Sam. Just Castiel. Don’t let anyone else in on this.”

With some reluctance, Sam nodded. “Just Cas. I’ll be right back, okay? I promise.”

Gabriel held out his hand and Sam took it.

“I can wait,” Gabriel said, and let go.

Sam found the others gathered in the kitchen, Dean taking a swig from a bottle of beer, Jack focused on a laptop screen, and Cas gazing into the distance, lost in thought, chin in hand.

“Hey,” said Sam, and they all looked up.

“Did he conk out again?” asked Dean.

“No. I’m going back to stay with him for the night. But he’s okay. Cas, can I talk to you for a second?”

Cas got to his feet, looking unsurprised. “Sure. We can go to the library.”

“Can I - ” Jack began, but Cas interrupted. “You’re helping all of us with your research, Jack. Keep trying to find cases.”

Jack looked disappointed. “Okay.”

“You want us to clear out?” Dean offered.

“No, no, you guys stay put,” Sam replied. The truth was that he wanted a smaller, more intimate space that at least provided the illusion of privacy.

Sam and Castiel sat down side by side at a table strewn with tattered books on witchcraft. About a week prior, there had been signs of magical activity not far from the Bunker: a teenage girl who had died in her bedroom after cerebral fluid - per the autopsy report - had leaked from her ears, nose, and mouth, swimming with maggots. The culprit turned out to be the biology instructor at her school, a man who had had an affair with the girl’s mother and targeted Jamila after overhearing her tell a friend of plans to inform the principal.

Cas folded his hands on the tabletop. “What did he tell you?”

Sam suddenly wished he had taken the time to figure out how to explain. The more he pictured what Gabriel had told him, the more nauseated he felt having to witness it all over again.

“Sam?”

Sam blinked. “Yeah, uh, he said … a little while back he told me about how Asmodeus used to try to calm him down. Hold him and whatnot.”

Cas recoiled. “That’s repugnant.”

“Right. Well, apparently Gabriel used to have to beg for comfort, and when he woke up tonight he … he thought Asmodeus had left him to suffer alone.”

“And so Gabriel was trying to get his attention?”

Sam tightened his lips. “Yeah. Makes you feel sick, doesn’t it?”

Castiel didn’t say anything. His face was pale and drawn.

“Cas?”

Elbows still rested on the table, Cas laced his fingers and laid his forehead on them. “This is too much. For him, for me. For all of us.”

“Well, make sure you don’t tell him that.”

“Never. I just …” He raised his head, and Sam was horrified to see that there were tears in his eyes. “I almost wish you hadn’t told me.”

Feeling helpless, Sam replied, “He asked me to. He said not to let Dean or Jack in on it but he wanted you to know the story. Next time - ”

“It’s all right; I’m prepared for the next ‘too much.’ If anyone should be overwhelmed it’s you.” Cas shook his head, avoiding Sam’s gaze. “I only wish he hadn’t gone through the agony he did. That there was something I could have done.”

Sam wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Cas, he’ll be okay. I’m taking care of him.”

Cas nodded, still staring absently at the stacks of books on the table. “Go get some sleep. If something happens, find me.”

Sam stood up. “Listen, you’ve been pushing yourself pretty hard too. Go do something to relax. Watch a stupid show on Netflix. Unwind. I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”

Cas nodded. “Good night, Sam.”

Sam tried not to think about Gabriel’s story on the way back to the bedroom. What was it, he wondered, that made this so particularly unsettling for both him and Castiel? Was it merely the shock of finding Gabriel lying by the bed, gagging on his own cries for help?

That image crept into Sam’s mind, followed by a vision of Gabriel in his cell, pounding the bars with his fists, face tear-streaked and bloody as he screamed and screamed …

Sam stopped to lean against the wall. He had to shut that picture away before returning to the bedroom. Otherwise he would be no help to Gabriel.

Every time the scene flashed before him, Sam felt the urge to intervene then and there, when it had actually happened. He wanted to shield that Gabriel - the terrified, desperate, battered Gabriel that had returned tonight.

But now was what mattered. Now was the time to reroute all that begging and pleading so that it led to safety.

Sam took a deep breath and pushed himself away from the wall. Gabriel needed him, and Sam wasn’t going to make him wait.

[warlockwriter]

To Lose Thee Were To Lose Myself: Chapter 5

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 5/10

Pairing: Gabriel/Sam

Chapter Word Count: 1947 (Story so far: 8422)

Summary:  Sam didn’t believe the “new man” speech from Gabriel, but he understood recovery and knew sometimes you just had to put on a brave face. He still struggled with his own recovery journey. Perhaps the two of them could help each other? And gank a few monsters along the way?

A/N: Begins right after 13x20 and goes canon divergent from there. Title from Paradise Lost by John Milton. Many thanks to @archangelgabriellives for the beta read and a couple of awesome suggestions/additions! Story is complete. I’m just trying the serial approach because I’ve never done it with a fanfic before.

Ao3 Link

About four hours later, they arrived in Colby, Kansas. It was a typical Kansas town with a population of around five thousand if Sam had to guess. He and his brother had done so many hunts in towns like this that he'd gotten to be an expert at guessing population.

They had stopped by Walmart to get Gabriel a suit. Dean's suggestion, about an hour outside of Colby, had led to a (mostly) friendly debate about the suitability (or not) of Walmart clothing which had ended when the archangel learned, to his chagrin, that he still didn't have enough juice in the tank to whistle up a suit.

Of course, Gabriel being Gabriel, as soon as he put on the ill-fitting suit, he discovered he did have enough juice to tailor it. Sam called him on it, pointing out that the kind of lowly FBI agents who would be investigating this sort of case probably didn't earn enough for that level of tailoring. Gabriel grumbled, and knocked back the level of tailoring to "fit well" from "fit like he'd been born to it."

There had been another debate about automobiles, and Dean had won this one, pointing out that FBI agents didn't usually walk to police stations from cheap motels and get all sweaty. Sam conceded the point and hot-wired a late model sedan they found one town over. He made a mental note to leave a (not even slightly accurate) explanation of why the car had gone on a joyride from Brewster to Colby.

They moved gear from Baby to the new car in the Walmart parking lot. Sam rummaged around in the trunk, making sure he had everything he'd need. He doubted Gabriel had enough juice to summon an archangel blade, so he tapped his brother on the shoulder and asked, "Dean, where's the spare angel blade?"

Without even looking, Dean reached into a corner of the trunk and produced the blade. It was a complete mess in there, but the elder Winchester could find anything within seconds. Sam grunted his thanks and handed the silvery blade to Gabriel.

The angel took it and gave it a look usually reserved for cute, if slightly obnoxious, pets. "You do realize this is the equivalent of a water gun to me?" However, Sam noticed he made it vanish up one sleeve readily enough, with a muttered "Just until I can summon my own."

Sam gave an internal nod. He'd called that one right.

Dean handed Sam a machete and said casually, "Water guns came in really handy against Leviathan."

The sudden, complete silence from behind them made both Winchesters turn to see Gabriel's stunned expression.

"What?" Dean asked.

"You guys fought Leviathan? When was this?"

Dean grunted. "Huh. You really have missed a lot. Fought them after Cas decided to try the God route by sucking up souls from Purgatory."

Gabriel tilted his head and blinked at them. "And how'd that work out for him?"

"Pretty much as well as you'd expect," Sam replied.

Gabriel got this look in his eyes, as if he were calculating. A moment later, they snapped back into focus and he said, "Borax?"

Dean grinned. "Got it in one."

Gabriel nodded, a look suspiciously like respect spreading across his face. "Good thinking. Those fuckers are nasty."

"Tell us about it," Sam said, slipping a shotgun into his bag.

Gabriel pointedly cleared his throat and eyed the shotgun.

"What?" Dean asked. "You want one of those? Know how to use one?"

That elicited another look, this one the kind reserved for puppies messing on the carpet. "Hello," he said, drawing the word out. "Archangel. Been on Earth for millennia. You monkeys haven't invented a weapon I haven't used."

Dean reached into the trunk, drew out a shotgun and handed it to Gabriel, challenge evident in every move.

The archangel took the weapon, broke it expertly and examined the gun professionally. He held out a hand, and Dean gave him several shells, which Gabriel confidently loaded into the breech. Then he closed and latched it with a casual one-handed motion and looked at Dean, a smug half-smile on his face.

Dean nodded. "You'll do." He glanced through Sam's bag, as if doing a final inventory, and closed the Impala's trunk. "I think that's everything you need. I'll head to the Bunker, pick up Cas and meet you back here. Assuming you two can solve a simple vampire case without help, we can head back after that and figure out our next moves about Michael."

Gabriel gave a small huff that sounded like annoyance but didn't say anything.

Sam nodded, shouldered his bag and said, "Sounds like a plan." He'd already changed into his suit and looked ready.

"Wait a minute," Dean said as he walked around to the driver's door. He opened it and rummaged in the center console. A moment later, he pulled out two badges. Handing one to Gabriel, he said, "I assume you can change the photo. This one should be perfect for you."

The archangel read the name on the badge and started laughing. He sat down on Baby's bumper and laughed for at least a minute.

Sam glanced at the name on his own badge and joined Gabriel's laughter.

Dean just watched both of them with a self-satisfied smirk.

***

This small a town didn't have a coroner's office, so Sam and Gabriel drove to the local county government building, which served many duties, including coroner and police station.

On their way in, Gabriel glanced around quickly.

"What?" Sam asked.

The angel reached out. Sam felt a tiny buzz, and, suddenly, his suit fit better.

"If we're going to be seen in public together, you're going to have to look the part."

Sam looked down at himself. Gabriel had whistled up basically the same level of tailoring as on his own suit. The hunter had to admit that it did feel better. However, he said, "Aren't you supposed to be recovering your grace?"

Gabriel shrugged. "That used hardly any, and it was totally worth it."

Sam snorted and opened the door into the building. With the ease of long practice, he headed for the lobby desk. As he walked, he pulled out his FBI badge. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Gabriel doing the same.

"Agents Collins and Gabriel, ma'am," Sam said to the woman behind the counter. She appeared to be about thirty, with short brown hair, brown eyes and glasses. She was dressed in a police uniform, and he noted her name tag read "Williams."

She looked at both badges with an air of suspicion. "What brings the FBI to our town?"

Sam was about to answer when Gabriel leaned over the counter and fixed her with his amber gaze. He combined flirtatious and professional in exactly the right measure, and Sam watched her expression relax before Gabriel had spoken his first word.

Sam decided he'd keep his mouth shut and enjoy this.

"I know, Ms. or is it Mrs. Williams?"

"Carol," she responded.

Gabriel smiled, warm without crossing any lines. "Carol. A lovely name. Now, I'm sure your excellent town has had little reason to entertain a visit from the FBI, and ours is merely routine. I understand there was a recent murder?"

She nodded. "That's right, but it was just an animal attack. Nothing the FBI would want to investigate."

Sam noted that she seemed slightly disappointed that she couldn't offer anything more interesting to keep them here. His eyes darted to her left hand. No ring.

Gabriel leaned a bit further into her personal space, smile still in place. "I know. That's exactly what I told my superior here." He made a little bob of his head in Sam's direction.

Playing along, Sam adopted a stern expression.

Carol's eyes went back and forth between them. A slight frown appeared on her forehead. "Surely you're the senior one here, Agent Gabriel?"

Sam had to work hard to keep his stern expression.

Gabriel winked at her. "You know how it is. Once a field agent, always a field agent. Anyway, I'm sure you're right, but I don't suppose there's any chance we could take a look at the body and autopsy report?"

She nodded. "I'll have to ask the Chief, but I'm sure he won't have a problem with it."

"We'd appreciate it, Carol," Gabriel said, voice still smooth.

She nodded and went into the back, presumably to check in with the afore-mentioned Chief.

"Smooth," Sam said, his voice pitched for angel hearing.

Gabriel flashed him a quick grin. "And I bet you were thinking working with me would be like working with Castiel, who couldn't even hold his badge the right way up."

Sam stifled a bark of laughter at that. "No, I figured you'd be better than that, but I am surprised some of those lines worked as well as they did."

"It's all in the delivery, Sammich," Gabriel said, his tone smug.

Sammich? He couldn't decided whether to laugh or groan.

Carol came back a moment later. "Chief's busy, but he said he didn't see any reason not to let you see the body. He did warn me that you'd find it a huge waste of time."

"It's our time to waste, ma'am," Sam said, keeping his voice stern, as if he'd just dressed down his "subordinate."

Carol gave Gabriel a sympathetic look as she ushered them into the back.

Gabriel let her get a few steps ahead of him before he turned to give Sam an approving wink.

She led them to a room which was barely large enough to hold an examining table and a free-standing mortuary cabinet. She opened the cabinet and pulled out the only body it contained. "Report's on that shelf over there."

Sam picked up the indicated report while Gabriel skillfully guided her out of the room with a quiet, "Thank you, and I'm sure we'll be out of your way soon."

Sam flipped through the report while Gabriel examined the body.

"Definitely a vampire kill," Gabriel said absently.

Sam glanced up just in time to see the angel lean over the body and...was he actually smelling it?

"Gross, man!"

Gabriel waved him off. "I can focus down to just one scent if I want to." Another sniff, and he straightened up. "Thought I caught that when she opened the cabinet."

"Caught what?"

Gabriel flashed him a concerned look. "Werewolf."

Sam blinked. "Werewolf? You mean we're looking at a vampire and a werewolf working together?"

"Possibly more than one. The scent is faint, but I'm fairly sure there was the scent of at least two werewolves on that body."

Sam flipped open the report again. "That explains why they said it looked like the work of different types of animals. Of course, they are thinking scavengers, not predators."

Gabriel was examining the body closely. "Considering that you hunters have basically hunted both vampire and werewolves into near extinction, I'm surprised they didn't start working together before now."

"Good point," Sam said, watching the archangel examine the body.

"What I don't understand," Gabriel said after a moment. "...is why they didn't try to turn him. Looks like a healthy guy." He poked the corpse's arm "Decent muscle tone. Not much fat. Fairly young. Would have made a decent vampire or werewolf."

"I'm less worried about why they didn't turn him than I am about finding the nest and/or pack."

Gabriel walked away from the body, obviously finished with his exam. "Oh, that's easy."

Sam raised an eyebrow as he put down the autopsy report. "Oh?"

"Sure. Let me show you why you hunt with archangels."

TBC

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[writing-is-my-backup-plan]

Borne on the Wings of Steel Part 2: Soaring on the Wings of Dawn

Summary:  You always felt like you didn’t belong, that something was inadvertently wrong with your surroundings.  Your life was simple; had a rental you called home, a normal and routine job, and a couple of friends from college.  One day, however, you wake up in a strange room with symbols covering every surface of the walls.  After two disgruntled and confused hunters find you, you discover that you are now in your favorite T.V. show.  The Winchesters try to help you get back to your universe, but what if maybe it isn’t where you were meant to be?

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Soulmate!AU, Season 13 spoilers, fluff, multiple universes, mommy issues, Gabriel, Luci, cursing, and of course shit writing.

Words: ~2.4 k

a/n: I never thought so many would enjoy part 1!  I have been so excited to write this next part that I only hope it lives up to half the hype you guys have for this series.  This is literally my second fic, and I never thought I would see over 100 notes on one chapter ever.  Not to mention all the lovely comments you all have been leaving.  Thank you for making a girl feel special! :’)

FYI SEASON 13 SPOILERS and slight deviation from cannon!  This story begins during and after 13x18.

Series List | Part 1 | Part 3 --> (coming soon)

The tension in the room was almost unbearable.  Sam, Dean, and Castiel all watched Gabriel closely, almost ready to pounce on him should he move; something must have happened that you did not witness. Apparently finding his courage, Castiel moved towards you and the weeping angel with something metallic in his hands; it wasn’t his angel blade, but you knew whatever it was it would harm Gabriel.  Your muscles reacted instantly as you side stepped out of Gabriel’s grip and walked around him to use yourself as a barrier between the two angels.

“Cas…” You trailed off in warning.

Disregarding your threat, he reached up to push you out of the way, preparing what you now recognized as a grace extractor in his other hand.  Angered by his audacity to ignore you, you swatted his hand away. “Castiel, this is not a good time. Back off.”

He rolled his eyes and continued his advance.  When you wouldn’t budge, he spoke harshly to you.  “Get out of the way.  We lost him once, and I am not failing again.  He has more than enough grace, extracting a little won’t hurt him.”

You placed a hand behind you on Gabriel’s back, reassuring him that you weren’t going to abandon him. Glaring back into Castiel’s predatorial eyes, you berated him.  “Is this what you meant by ‘Whatever it takes.’?  To go against so many of your vows – do you even having any vows left to break?  This is your brother, who has been beaten and nearly destroyed.  He has done so much for you, yet here you stand to milk him of his grace like a cow.  Stand. Down. NOW.”

The Winchesters gasped at your bravery.  To order an Angel to stand down, that took some guts.  What was even more surprising is that he listened.  Your words were knives straight into his very soul; how many times had he done this?  How many times had he gone too far, how many more times would he before he learned?  His stance relaxed, and his arms fell to his sides. You watched as his wings fluttered and shrunk in embarrassment, the reaction reminding you of a dog tucking its tail between its legs.  With his head down, he walked out of the room without another word.

After a few moments of silence, you shared uneasy glances with the brothers.  “Look,” You started. “I’ve got him.  It’s obvious he wants me, although I don’t know why.  I will take care of Gabriel; can you guys just go figure out how the hell I got here?  I kinda have work in the morning, so…”

With knowing nods, the two brothers left the room.  You turned around to see a stone-faced Gabriel and your heart became heavy yet again. As you walked back to his front, you noticed that you could not see his wings; the lack of feathers had you wondering if maybe you had been imagining Castiel’s.  Crouching down to his eye level, you spoke softly to him.  “Hey Gabe, everything’s okay.  No one is going to hurt you, I won’t let them.  Why don’t we get you into bed, hmm?”

When he didn’t react, you placed a hand on each of his shoulders.  “Gabe, everything is okay.  You don’t have to shut down.  I’m not going anywhere.”

With that, his eyes snapped to meet yours.  “I don’t want you to leave, not again.”  He whimpered.

“I’m not, I promise. I’m right here.”

“But you want the Winchesters to send you back.  I don’t want you to go back, A.  I need you; we all need you.”  He pleaded.

His nickname reminded you of some distant memory, but you couldn’t quite place it.  Shaking it off, you replied to the angel.  “Gabe, do you know how I got here?  Castiel keeps calling me Ariel and I – I don’t know who that is.  My name is Y/N.”

He was taken aback by your words, but only briefly.  “You don’t know who that is because you don’t remember.  I… I did something bad, A.  Not just like, making life slightly difficult for Heaven, I mean bad.  I had to, otherwise – It would have been worse if I hadn’t.”

Stroking his cheek, you consoled him.  “It’s okay. Whatever you did, Gabe, I’m sure it was the right thing to do.”

Leaning into your hand, Gabriel whispered.  “I hope you’re right, A.  I hope you’re right.”

The two flannel-clad Winchesters entered the war room to find Castiel pacing with his hands messaging his temples.  Wasting no time, Sam walked into the library to grab his laptop while Dean began speaking to Castiel.  “Okay, okay, so we somehow got Gabriel back.  That’s a positive!  We just need to get this woman back to her universe and then we can get back to business.”

“Dean, this isn’t going to go like you think.”  Castiel said with a stoic expression.  “Gabriel coming back here just confirms that he summoned her.  He is not going to let Ariel leave.  Also, did the two of you leave them alone?  What’s going to stop him from leaving with her?”

“Well, while you were getting your ass roasted, I placed that sigil you taught me that prevents angels from teleporting on the door frame.  Technically, he’s stuck in that room.” Dean retorted.

Thankful for the older Winchester’s quick thinking, the angel took a seat at the war table and sighed. “I didn’t know that Gabriel would have this connection with her.”

“Connection or not, who the hell is this Ariel chick?  You said she was Heaven’s guide?”

Before Castiel could answer, Sam reentered the war room carrying his now open laptop.  “So, get this.  Ariel is an angel from old Christian and Jewish theology.  She was briefly mentioned in Paradise Lost and according to this poorly written Wikipedia article, she is known as the personification of Israel?  She is also sometimes referred to as a Demon.”

“Which means?” Dean asked.

“That the internet has no clue who she is.” He sighed.  The two brothers turned their questioning glances to Castiel.  

“Cas, care to fill us in on what the hell is going on?” The older Winchester inquired.

Clearing his throat, he explained.  “Back during the dawn of man, angels and human lived amongst each other very briefly – the consequences were instantaneous.  Nephilim were in the dozens, and Heaven worried about their ability to protect all of creation.  Angels were then ordered to stay away from humans as much as possible, only intervening when necessary.  This created a new problem.  As centuries passed, angels no longer knew how to act amongst humanity.  Society has always been drastically changing for your species, and if an angel wants to investigate undercover, they had to learn how to blend in.”

“Well, you’ve been here for years and you still don’t blend in.” Dean laughed.

Castiel scrunched his brows together in irritation.  His attempt at a bitch face made Dean go silent instantly.  “Sorry.” The older Winchester mumbled under his breath while rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

The annoyed angel continued. “As I was saying, it became obvious that Heaven needed someone on the ground at all times.  Their duty would be to live among you and be able to teach newly arrived angels about modern society.  God was displeased by the amount of Nephilim that were created before, so He refused to assign an angel to this task.  Therefore, he created Ariel.  She was neither an angel or human; she is somewhere in between, yet different from a Nephilim.  Her powers are limited, and she cannot mate.  She was – is – referred to as the Earthly Mother of Angels.  Before they are sent to their assignment here on Earth, every angel reported to her for social training.”

“But you said she’s been dead for two thousand years, what happened?” Sam asked.

“She was living in Jerusalem, preparing for the flood of angels that would arrive when the Christ child was born.  That’s probably why that article called her the ‘personification of Israel’.  She had been there for almost a century when she was murdered.  As soon as the angels felt her signature die, Heaven swarmed Israel.”  Pausing, Castiel chose his next words carefully.

“Lucifer’s blade was found in her chest and armies of Heavenly hosts were called to arms in preparation for war against Lucifer.  It was discovered that he was still locked in the cage, and it hadn’t been tampered with either.  No one knows what happened, the evidence didn’t make any sense.  In the end, there was nothing done because the Christ child was on its way, which obviously took priority; she was all but forgotten.”

Silence fell over the room as the Winchesters debated what to do.  It was then that Sam realized Castiel was hiding something.  “Wait, if all angels were sent to her, why did you say you never met her before?”

Castiel stood up to resume his pacing before answering.  “I was ordered to never meet her.  During that time, I was still an – uh – unquestioning soldier.  To this day, I still don’t know why.”

Raising his eyebrows, Dean began to rant.  “Great. We have the Mother of Angels in a room with a broken archangel, who by the way, summoned her.  You were ordered to never meet her, which add a whole new layer to the already messed up cake.  She may or may not be super powerful but doesn’t remember a damn thing. Oh, and she thinks this is a T.V. show?”

“Do the two of you now understand why I was so upset?” Castiel snarked.

A few hours passed, during which Gabriel lay next to you in the tiny bed.  Although angels don’t sleep, his grace put him into a slumber like state since his wounds were still healing.  His large frame clung to yours like a child would when woken up from a nightmare.  Your fingers softly stroked his hair as you considered what to do next.

It was becoming clearer and clearer that this was in fact not a dream.  That thought alone was enough to make you want to run for the hills. No matter how much you loved the show, you never wanted to step foot into a world like it.  Now, you had hunters and angels claiming you were someone you clearly were not, and their refusal to elaborate on their accusation was even worse.

A knock at the door broke your rambling thoughts.  Someone was finally coming to talk to you.  “Come in.” You whispered quietly, as to not wake Gabriel.

The door slowly opened to reveal a concerned Castiel.  His trench and sport coats had been discarded, making him appear more approachable somehow. He walked cautiously to the bed before taking a seat, careful to not wake Gabriel up as well.  “How’s he doing?”

You took the opportunity to insult the angel.  “Well, now that someone isn’t trying to do the exact same thing that was used to torture him for six years, fine.”

Castiel flinched; a reaction you expected would please you, but instead made you feel worse.  Your guilt was soon replaced with surprise, yet again, when Castiel’s wings unfolded, their tips resting against the bed.

The angel brought a hand up to rub his cheek before speaking to you.  “I’m sorry.  You were right.  I have done so much wrong in the last decade.  I just… I don’t want to fail the Winchesters.  It so hard to balance between two families, them and Heaven.  I don’t want to harm Gabriel, I just want to save Jack and Mary.”

Hesitation was never common for you but being in the universe had changed that completely.  You wanted to comfort Castiel, but how you did not know. Strange, considering you so easily consoled the archangel that was now asleep in your embrace.

Not knowing what else to do, you reached for Castiel’s other hand that rested in his lap.  Stroking the top of it lightly with your thumb, you glanced down at your clasped hands.  “You will save them Castiel, I know it.  It may look impossible now, but you’ve always done the impossible.  It’s okay to make mistakes, that what makes us…” You trailed off, trying to find the right words.

Castiel chuckled at your pause.  “Human? I am not human, Ariel, and neither are you.”

“I was going to say real.  Reality isn’t about orderly, step-by-step actions and events.  The overall picture happens for a reason, but they way you get there is not a straight line.  Life isn’t about point A and point B, it isn’t about the journey either.  Being real is understanding that sometimes you have to go to point C and D to unlock B.  There is no logic behind it, only motion.  People who say, ‘You’re only human’ don’t consider that.”  You had more you wanted to say, but Gabriel began stirring beside you. Once stilled, you continued.

“Also, for the last God – Chuck – damn time, my name is Y/N.  You can believe that I am this Ariel chick, but I want to be called Y/N.”  You stated flatly.

With a shy nod, Castiel submitted.  “Alright, Y/N it is.  Just a warning though, almost every single Heavenly being is going to call you Ariel.”

“Who was she anyway?  If I am at least going to be accused of being this woman, I may as well know what she was.”

It was then that Castiel explained to you the Mother of Angels.  A Heavenly host who taught the angels how to live among humans.  She was a teacher, an informant, a sanctuary, but most importantly, a motherly guide.  She was there to help angels who were grieving over their now lifeless Nephilim and lovers after their initial destruction.  She was councilor who prevented new Nephilim from being created.  She was the barrier between Heaven and Earth, sometimes even between angels and God.

When she was stripped away from the angels, they wept and mourned for their mother.  They were ready to strike down whatever evil had done this to her but were silenced by God’s orders to protect the Christ child.  

With her mysterious return, and no Father in sight to order them, loyalties in Heaven were about to be questioned.

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[hekate1308]

Day 17

It is time for more Crowley survival, my pretties. Enjoy!

It’s become a ritual, of sorts.

A ritual that takes place on every 17th of every month.

Dean Winchester has never forgotten a single day on which they lost someone, and the losses they suffered then were very heavy indeed.

It’s not as bad as it was in the beginning, anymore; no, Cas’ miraculous resurrection, even if he came back down-powered, made everything better; but –

But.

There’s someone else who lost his life because of them on that day. Even if neither Cas nor Sam ever really mention him.

And so, on every 17th, in the middle of the night, when Sam and Cas are resting or otherwise occupied, he drinks a glass of Craig and tries to summon Crowley.

Nothing ever happens, of course. Nothing can. The demon is gone. And even if he weren’t, the bunker is still warded.

Yes, what he is doing is not only slightly insane, but also completely useless.

But it still feels like the right thing to do, and he’s not harming anyone.

Maybe he’s finally reached the bargaining stage of mourning, and it’s the deal he’s made with himself – he gets to attempt to call Crowley once a month.

It’s another one of his nights of indulgence. Both Sam and Cas are sleeping – the last hunt took a lot out of them all – and Dean carefully pours his drink before stepping up to the devil’s trap. Smiling, he thinks that Crowley might appreciate the nostalgia of it all if for some crazy reason the summoning suddenly –

It works.

One moment, he’s thrown the last ingredient into the fire, the flame flares up for a second, and then –

He’s staring at Crowley, who promptly passes out.

If there is one thing Dean is familiar with, it’s the need to immediately spring into action, and not even a minute later, he has Crowley out of the devil’s trap. But what is he supposed to do now? He can hardly check his pulse.

In the end, he decides to throw some water at him and hope for the best, automatically reaching for one of their holy water bottles in the kitchen before he remembers.

“Don’t be an idiot, Dean” he mutters, shaking his head at himself as he goes to the sink.

By the time he comes back, Crowley appears to be waiting up, and the glass of water does the rest as he pours it unto his face.

His eyes blink open. “Wha – Squirrel?”

“Welcome back to earth, your Highness” Dean replies, a little unsure of how to proceed. For God’s sake, he only then realizes, he even pulled him out of the devil’s trap without a second thought.

And Crowley unexpectedly coming back to life is no excuse for such foolish behaviour. He really should be used to that by now.

For what it’s worth, however, the former king of Hell doesn’t seem in any mood to wreak havoc. If anything, he’s even more confused than Dean.

The suit he’s wearing is the same he died in, and he looks away not to see the gaping hole where the angel blade went in. “Glass of Craig?” It’s the only thing he can think of saying.

“I thought you’d never offer. Your qualities as a host have gone seriously downhill” he drawls, and there is the sarcasm Dean wouldn’t admit to himself he’s been missing for the past year.

“Alright, then.”

They end up drinking in the library. It’s better than the war room, where Dean punched Crowley in the face the last time he saw him, only to end up staring in disbelief as he offed himself for them.

They sit in silence, but to his surprise, it’s neither awkward nor particularly uncomfortable. “Say” he suddenly remembers, “How come you are here?”

“You summoned me. How much have you had to drink tonight already?”

He rolls his eyes. “You know exactly what I meant. The warding. You shouldn’t have been able to –“

“My powers seem to be somewhat diminished” Crowley admits, looking everywhere but at Dean.

“Like Cas’, then. He came back a bit weaker too.”

“What do you mean, he came back?”

Dean spends the next half hour bringing him up to speed.

When he’s done, Crowley shakes his head. “Why do you boys always have to get in trouble?”

“You’re one to talk. Closing the rift is one thing, but killing yourself in the process?”

“It was the only way it could be done.”

“At least you got rid of Lucifer once and for all.”

Even in the darkest times, when both Cas and Crowley were gone, it was a consolation.

“Let’s just say I had to get even.”

“You did. Pretty sure he has as bad a time in the Apocalypse world as you can imagine.”

Crowley chuckles. It reminds Dean of the summer they spent together as demons – as if all of this weren’t complicated enough, already.

“Really though, that new king isn’t up to snuff. Barely inconveniences us, I tell you. They just didn’t know what they had.”

When Crowley doesn’t answer, Dean asks, “What are your plans?”

“Considering my little power problem and the fact that all demons still hate me, I might have to lay low for a while.”

“You can stay here” Dean immediately offers. It’s not just because of their history (at least that’s what he tells himself) – Crowley being on their side once and for all would be excellent news. Guys knows his lore – the spell he pulled on his last day alive (well – so far) proves that more than enough.

“Thank you, but I’d rather not see your dungeon again if I can help it.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic. we have more than enough rooms. True, some may be a little dusty, but other than that...” He realizes Crowley’s staring at him. “What?”

“You are offering me a room.”

“Yes.”

“Without any demands for compensation?”

“Hardly see how there could be any. It’s just a room” he shrugs. “And you really took one for the team, back there. We owe you.”

“That is true. You would have been lost without me” Crowley boasts, his old self-confidence returning full force. Dean breathes a sigh of relief.

“You probably want to change clothes before Sammy and Cas get up. I don’t think I have anything that’ll fit your meat suit exactly, but some of my old things should do well enough.”

He expects Crowley to look appalled and start complaining, but instead he instantly accepts. Somewhat sheepishly (Dean presumes he hasn’t had the need in years) he asks if he can take a shower.

“Sure thing. Bathroom’s in the third corridor to the right has the best water pressure.”

After he’s picked out the clothes for Crowley, and once he hears the water running, he lets himself sink down on his chair in the library once more and enjoys the moment, because if he knows one thing, he knows that nothing ever comes cheap to the Winchesters.

As it turns out, he’s right.

After he showed Crowley into one of the cleaner rooms, he all but crashed in his own, and so it’s well after ten that he wakes up; for a moment, he doesn’t remember last night, but then he all but sprints out of bed.

It’s good he’s gotten fast at putting on his clothes, because what he stumbles across at in the kitchen can best be described as a Mexican standoff.

At worst... he doesn’t even want to think about anything the scene in front of him resembles.

Crowley is eating cereal (always had a thing for snacking, his Majesty, even though he doesn’t really need to it), still wearing Dean’s clothes; Sam is sitting on the other side of the table, staring at him as if he expects him to attack any minute; and Cas is standing in front of them, looking rather confused.

He clears his throat. “Morning Sammy, Cas – Crowley.”

“Dean” his brother gets up. “Would you care to explain –“

“Alright, come with me. Cas, Crowley –“

“Don’t worry Squirrel, we’ll be talking about our new membership to the came-back-from-the-dead-and-didn’t-even-get-all-my-powers Club”.

As they walk away from the kitchen, Dean hears Cas answering, “I don’t think that club exists.”

Once they’ve reached the library, Sam turns around. “Dean, what the hell? Crowley comes back and you don’t even wake us? Instead, you give him some clothes to wear –“

“His own were torn and dirty –“

“And you show him to the bathroom –“

“Did I mention the dirty part?”

“And you don’t even put him in a devil’s trap!”

“What for?”

Sam stares at him. “What do you mean, what for? It’s Crowley.”

“Yep.”

“Yep? That’s all you have to say about this?”

“Yes.”

“Why.”

“’Cause it’s Crowley, alright? Last time I checked, the guy died for us. Cut him some slack.”

“Dean, he was the King of Hell.”

“And he abdicated. Have you ever known a demon to give a gig like that up in order to hang around our merry little troop?”

Sam doesn’t immediately find an answer to that, but then he begins, “When I worked with Ruby –“

“You had known her what, six months at that point? Also, she hadn’t sacrificed herself for us to get rid of Lucifer, last time I checked.”

“Dean –“

“Look, Sammy” he says tiredly, rubbing his face, “As far as I am concerned, this is a good thing, alright? Let’s just have another good thing after Cas came back.”

“Alright” he acquiesces, “But the second he does anything, I’m throwing him in the dungeon.”

“He won’t” is all Dean says as he leaves the room. He can feel it in his bones; Crowley won’t do anything stupid now.

Dean’s proven right, but it’s not always easy. Sam still distrusts Crowley, that much is obvious – and Dean continues to be baffled at the demon’s relaxed attitude top that fact. Sam doesn’t want to work with him? Sure, he’ll just accompany Dean on cases (in a somewhat cheaper suit than he’s accustomed to, once his Highness has resigned himself to the fact that they can’t afford Armani). Sam doesn’t listen to him when he makes a suggestion on a hunt? He’ll discuss the lore with Cas. Sam pointedly leaves him out when introducing them to other hunters? He’ll raise a hand, say “Name’s Crowley” and move on.

When Dean asks Cas, the angel looks away. “He’s not used to it, I think.”

“Not used to what?”

“Belonging somewhere. I don’t know for certain, of course... but if I had to guess, I’d say that he’s ready to accept some drawbacks for being part of the team.”

Oh. Well, Dean did punch him that day that seems so long ago now. He squeezes Cas’ shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

Not everyone immediately accepts Crowley, of course – in fact, most hunters who know who Crowley was are decidedly on Sam’s side (and when it comes to people like Jody, who can blame her?) but Dean is steadfast in his conviction of keeping him in the bunker. Every demon out there would like to get their hands on Crowley, and he’s not about top let that happen.

Crowley has taken to updating the Men of Letter’s library, fixing mistakes and mumbling to himself about how they knew nothing.

Dean likes to think they’re making progress, since even Sam over time resigns himself to working with him.

And then it’s been six months since he summoned Crowley.

Another 17th.

Dean has a fglass of Craig out of nostalgia, and is soon joined by the ex-king.

“How’s it going?” Dean asks.

“Do you mean the library? I have been making –“

“I actually meant in general” he says quickly. “You know, coming back depowered and all that, and right now you’re one of the good guys, must be a bit different than what you’re used to.”

“Oh, you know me. I get by.”

Except for when he’s standing in a wasteland and facing the devil. But Dean doesn’t talk about.

It’s comfortable sitting here with Crowley, and for him, on this 17th, that’s quite enough.

[unityghost]

Aftermath

First, I apologize for taking a long time to post this. I go to a college that is notorious for its heavy workloads.

In the last story, I responded to a prompt Gabriel had a nightmare about Sam. Two readers offered the following responses:

1. "The only complaint I have is that Gabriel got over his fear of Sam rather quickly."

- Shelly (Archive of Our Own)

2. "It certainly sounds like a traumatic nightmare that Gabriel. I wonder, will it affect his and Sam's relationship any? I know they smoothed it over for the most part, but I'd imagine a nightmare like that would still have consequences."

- willows dancing in the wind (FanFiction.net)

I also had a request:

"Ohmygosh please have Sam make Gabe some hot chocolate!"

- letbuckyeathisgoddamnplums (Archive of Our Own and regular consumer of PASF "trauma cocoa")

Thanks for the constructive criticism and the request!

As far as Gabriel could tell, no one had noticed. After all, switching things up now and then wasn’t unusual; he’d asked Castiel or, on occasion, even Dean to stay with him as he fell asleep.

Up until a week ago, it had been Sam.

The night that Gabriel dreamt of Sam pinning him down and shoving the archangel blade into Gabriel’s open mouth had thrown a shroud over these past several days. Gabriel wasn’t terrified of Sam, not like he’d been in the dream; yet his stomach churned when they were in the same room, and he could only hope that Sam hadn’t noticed his reluctance to be touched. Gabriel kept his distance when he could; and when he couldn’t, he simply leaned away from Sam as subtly as possible.

Since no one remarked upon his behavior, Gabriel assumed they either didn’t see it or figured it was a good thing that Sam finally had a little space. He tried to convince himself that his fear was a positive development: it was time not only to give Sam room to breathe, but to give himself the opportunity to fight without help.

His heart sank whenever he thought about it, but he knew it was necessary. Gabriel would have preferred that it happen another way, but he supposed he should be grateful that things weren’t any worse.

Castiel, who had been the one to stay with him tonight, was gone when Gabriel lurched awake in a cold sweat after seeing Asmodeus at the wheel of the Impala, crushing Gabriel’s thigh in a cobra-like grip as the car sped backwards.

He was still dizzy when he came out of it. In the darkness of the bedroom, he moaned and rolled over, trying to disentangle himself from the sheets. But he was close enough to the edge that he fell, smacking his head on the nightstand and crying out in pain.

A few moments later, there were footsteps. Gabriel scrambled upright, one hand pressed to his skull.

“No!” he yelled when the door was thrown open and the light switched on.

Sam looked alarmed and exhausted in the pallor of the overhead lamp. “What happened?”

Still holding his head, Gabriel struggled for a deep breath. “Nothing. A bad dream.” Trembling, he sat down on the bed. “Just another bad dream.”

The expression on Sam’s face - one of worry and close attention - was familiar.

As expected, Gabriel was afraid - but afraid as if he’d lost sight of a spider crawling on the ceiling. The quiet fear, the disgust - these were present.

But he didn’t feel frantic. Here and now, clad in pajamas and pale from sleep, Sam hardly appeared threatening.

He looked Gabriel up and down. “Did you get hurt?”

Gabriel slid his hand from his hair. “No.”

“Can I come sit with you for a minute?”

Gabriel tensed. The spider was in his bed now - but at least he knew its location. “Okay.”

Sam took a seat at the foot of the mattress. “Gabriel, what happened? That sounded bad.”

“Humpty Dumpty had a great fall and managed to put himself back together again. He’s a self-sufficient egg.”

“Are you just saying that because you’re still scared of me?”

Gabriel was so astonished that for a moment he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. A long silence went by, during which Sam simply waited and Gabriel made a fruitless attempt to assemble his thoughts.

“Damn it” was all he could come up with.

“It’s okay,” Sam assured him. “I figured you’d have trouble shaking it off. Have you said anything to Dean or Cas?”

“What? No. Why would I do that?”

Sam frowned. “Why not?”

“Well - can you imagine what it’d sound like? Trying to explain that immediately after I was clinging to you like a baby orangutan to its mother, I suddenly decided you were some kind of anti-Sam? Come on.”

“You were disoriented. You’re used to looking for me when you’re upset, right? And I was there after the dream, even if it was a dream about me. Made sense that you’d act according to routine.”

Gabriel glanced at the floor. “That’s not really what matters. Thing is, I have exactly zero justification here. It’s cruel to be afraid of you after everything you’ve given me.” He looked up. “Your currency is emotional CPR. Mine is fear. That’s not exactly an even exchange.”

“This isn’t about you owing me compensation,” Sam objected. “You know that; it’s never been about that. It’s about - ”

“ - me being a dumpster full of paint thinner and gasoline. And not having the discipline to stop myself throwing in a lighted match.”

“Gabriel, look - ”

“I can’t short-circuit on you,” Gabriel interrupted. “It isn’t fair. It just isn’t. You do too damn much to keep me from drowning for me to be fidgety around you.”

Sam considered his next words carefully. “Well ... you’ve got one thing right: it’s definitely not fair. But Gabriel, it’s you who’s getting a bad deal, not me. Remember how you said you felt like Asmodeus was taking me away from you? You shouldn’t have to feel like that.” Gabriel could tell that Sam was battling the instinct to offer some kind of physical consolation. “You didn’t do anything you shouldn’t have. This is just how things are right now. And it's okay.”

Gabriel swallowed, trying to gather the courage to speak, but simply lowered his head and hugged his knees.

“Are you cold?” Sam lifted the disheveled comforter and draped it over Gabriel’s shoulders, careful not to touch him. “There you go; it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Gabriel tried to speak, tried to tell Sam that no, he wasn’t okay. That none of this was okay.

But he couldn’t.

“Let me help you, all right?” said Sam. “Let me show you I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Gabriel didn’t answer him.

“Gabriel?”

At last, he gathered his strength. “Yeah. Fine.”

Sam stood up. “I can get us some tea. Why don’t you just wait here while I do that?”

Gabriel simultaneously wanted the security of having Sam nearby and the safety of not having him there at all. But before he could get caught up in the decision-making process, he muttered, “Tea sounds okay.”

“Yeah. Great. I’ll be right back.”

While Sam was in the kitchen, Gabriel took time to interpret what was happening. Sam was partly right: being alone with him, and seeing no signs of danger, was helping a little. But it stirred up something else too - a sense of longing that had been thickening within Gabriel throughout this past week, but which he had opted to ignore.

One thing, at least, had become clear: pushing Sam away was dragging Gabriel backward. Guilt, fear, revulsion - all of these had lately become just a little less familiar to him, or at least less habitual. Now they were regaining momentum; and he was all too aware that Sam, once Gabriel readjusted to his company, was going to take on the responsibility of keeping those feelings under control.

Sam didn’t need that kind of work. Not after the weight he’d already carried.

Lost in thought, Gabriel jumped when he spotted Sam reentering the room with two mugs. “Whoa, hey - ” Sam stepped back, splashing some of the fluid onto the floor.

Gabriel exhaled. “Final verdict: no blades, only kitschy T.J. Maxx dishware.”

Sam smiled and set Gabriel’s cup on the nightstand. A warm aroma filled the space around the bed, a sweet scent that definitely wasn’t coming from tea.

Sam noticed Gabriel looking at the mug. “Jack had a few spare packets of cocoa lying around. Figured you might need the nutrients. And the taste. Out of whipped cream, sorry.”

“I don’t want to take the kid’s hard-earned sugar,” Gabriel protested.

“You know he won’t mind. Jack wants to see you get better as much as any of us do.”

That was true. Jack was overprotective, asking at random intervals whether Gabriel felt all right.

“Careful,” Sam cautioned as Gabriel shifted the blanket so that he could pick up the mug. “It burns.”

“Thanks, Mom. I was just about to see what’d happen if I poured it down my shirt.”

Several minutes passed with neither of them uttering a word. Gabriel had the sense that Sam was waiting for him to open the conversation.

Gabriel, for his part, didn’t trust himself to say the right thing. He remained curled up in the heavy bedspread, soothed by the fragrance of the drink.

After a full five minutes of waiting for Gabriel to speak, Sam gave in. “Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

Gabriel shook his head.

Sam’s face fell, but he didn’t push. “You like the cocoa?”

“Yeah. Too much, I think. Tastes like pre-Hell. Tell me,” he added, wanting to change the subject, “How often does my little bro let Jack indulge the wiles of his trickster-esque palate?”

“Cas bugs the crap out of Dean about not steaming the broccoli too much. Says Jack needs the vitamins. So uh, after enough fruits and vegetables, I guess.”

“And am I going to have to be the first to call nephilim-protective services?”

Sam laughed. “You don’t have to worry. Between you and me, Dean lets him have as much sugar as he can handle. Just keep it on the down low so Cas doesn’t ruin the fun.” He took a sip from his own mug. “You know, you can have this every day if you want. If you’re not gonna go for actual food, I guess this isn’t the worst substitute.”

“Every day, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.”

Sam surveyed him, and a look of alarm crossed his face. “Gabriel?”

Gabriel focused on the stitches in the comforter, tracing the patterns with his eyes. When that brought up unwanted memories of having his mouth sewn shut, he turned his attention to the warmth and heaviness of the blanket.

There was the soft thud of Sam’s mug being placed on the nightstand. “Gabriel? Hey.”

Silence.

“Are you scared? I can leave.”

Gabriel shook his head.

“Then what? Gabriel, what’s wrong?”

Reign it in, bitch, Gabriel scolded himself, and took deep breaths to try and calm down.

“Hang on.” Sam’s voice was gentle. “You’re gonna spill this all over yourself.” He pried the cup from Gabriel’s hands and placed it beside his own. “You’re all wound up. What is it?”

Gabriel shook his head again, wishing he had the composure to answer in words but not daring to try.

“Did I say something to bother you? Gabriel, tell me. Please.”

Gabriel swallowed hard and forced himself to speak. “It’s just that … I …”

Sam waited.

“I’m confused,” Gabriel whispered.

Sam looked puzzled. “About what?”

“About - Sam, when you said - when you said I could have this every day, I didn’t - I don’t - ”

“Okay. All right, Gabe, slow down. Tell me what you mean.”

Gabriel coughed in an effort to loosen the knot in his throat. “Why? Why would you let me have this? Especially every day. I don’t - why would you let me have anything, Sam? Why would you do that? Why would you say that? I - I can’t figure it out. I don’t know, I just - it feels weird, that’s all.”

Sam furrowed his brow. “That’s why you’re so upset? Because I said you could have something you like?” But then, all at once, recognition dawned on his face. “Oh man … Gabriel … look, I know Asmodeus wouldn’t let you have anything you wanted - anything you needed or asked for. But we’re not like that. We’re just not.”

Gabriel turned his head so that Sam couldn’t see his expression. “I guess I just don’t speak this language. The language of ‘you’re allowed’ or ‘we’ll feed you’ or ‘here’s a - ’” Gabriel huddled under the bedspread again. “‘Here’s a blanket.’”

Sam’s eyes shone with desperation. “Gabriel, man, you’ve got to let us take care of you.”

Once more incapable of speech, Gabriel went back to shaking his head.

Sam softened his voice. “You’re sick. What use is there in feeling guilty for that? When you’re sick you need people to do what you can’t do by yourself.”

Gabriel kept trying to take steady breaths.

“Gabe, can I ask you something?” When there was no response, Sam continued, “That nightmare - was it something I did?”

Gabriel’s despair was momentarily interrupted by astonishment. “What?”

“Did I say or do something that set you off and I just didn’t realize it?”

Gabriel blinked. “Jesus crickets, Sam. This is why our conversations always sound like some kind of Lovecraftian Hallmark holiday special. You eat self-hate for breakfast. You don’t even have the common sense to realize that me having a nightmare about someone I love has nothing to do with anybody but Asmodeus.”

Sam still looked uneasy. “All right.”

“No, it’s not all right! It’s not all right for you to feel that way. Because I know you. You’re sure you did something to start up another psychotic episode. For Dad’s sake, Sam, of course you didn’t do anything. Come on, I overshare pretty much all the time nowadays. Don’t you think I would’ve mentioned if you were the one to spill those last sorry marbles I have left?”

Sam raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. All right. I was just checking.”

“And you - ” Gabriel squeezed fistfuls of the comforter. “You’re not him. I’m crazy, and even I can tell you’re not him.”

“There’s a difference between being crazy and being scared, you know.”

“Yeah, sure, great. Maybe for you.”

Sam stiffened. “Definitely not for me. I’ve told you what I was like after I got out of the Cage. Anyway, Gabriel - you know this is going to take a while. You don’t need me to tell you that. And I know that getting adjusted … getting used to people not hurting you … it’s rough. Especially when you think you shouldn’t be treated like that after being kicked around. Being hated. And being told you deserve to be bullied until you break down. I know what it’s like. But you can’t fix how vulnerable you are right now - especially not all by yourself. What you cando is ride it out and face the worst of it with us. Stop holding things in; stop feeling guilty. You only have so much control right now, and that’s not going to change if you keep trying to get it back without letting us help. I promise - the end result looks a lot different when recovery is a team effort.”

Gabriel lost his voice again. But this time, instead of shaking his head, he nodded.

“You’re doing it right now,” Sam pointed out. “Trying to hide. It’s just me, Gabriel. You’re gonna make yourself sick if you keep that up.”

What would be worse? Sacrificing his dignity like he had countless times since first coming to the bunker, or grinding his teeth until his jaw hurt?

He hated that Sam could read him so easily.

Sam sighed. “Look. I just want you to know … there’s nothing you can’t do. Not when you’re with me. This isn’t supposed to not hurt, Gabriel.”

You’ve got to let us take care of you.

Sam’s attention was the easiest to accept. And yet it was also the hardest, precisely because Gabriel wanted it so badly.

Now, after a week of avoidance because of something that wasn’t even Sam’s fault …

Gabriel took a slow, shuddering breath. “I thought I was tougher than I am. For you it’s different. It really is. I’ve been around since the mid-forevers, and you - you’re only human. Humankind is easier to bruise. I don’t mean that to sound petty; I’ve actually always kind of admired it about you guys - the way you fight back when you could just let the universe eat you. Even when you’re not trying, you know? The way strength creeps into your dreams and your instincts. The way you remember good things when everything else has gone to shit. Somewhere in you, you just … you can’t let go of that resilience. It’s part of who you are.” He paused. “I have respect for the way people make themselves so much stronger than they’re supposed to be.”

Sam contemplated Gabriel’s words. “I don’t think you’re that different from us.”

“I - ”

“Not just you. Everyone. Look at Cas.”

“But he’s not an arch - ”

“I know he’s not an archangel. But Lucifer is.”

Sam spoke so casually that Gabriel almost didn’t realize how outlandish the statement was. “What does Lucifer have to do with anything?”

“Well, he was locked up too, wasn’t he? I mean, I didn’t know him before he turned into what he is now, but I figure he was … awful, but maybe not as awful as after your dad threw him in there.”

Gabriel stared. “I have no idea how to respond to that, Sam. Don't make excuses for him. He's a jerk.”

“It doesn’t matter. What’s important right now is that you try not to be so hard on yourself. You admire humans for their ability to put up a fight, and - Gabriel - that’s exactly what you’re doing now. Here, let’s narrow it down: you had that dream. And now we’re alone together even though you’ve had good reason to be afraid of me. You could’ve let the fear keep going until it created a whole new barrier on its own.”

It was difficult for Gabriel to come up with a reply, or even to decide how he felt about this reasoning. His inclination was to resist it - to point out the flaws in Sam’s logic.

Knowing Sam, however, that would be ineffective.

“Here,” said Sam, and reached over to the nightstand and handed Gabriel the mug of cocoa. “I think it’s still pretty warm.”

Gabriel took a sip. “Yeah. Good stuff.” He glanced at the clock sitting beside Sam’s own cup. 4:37. “You should go back to bed.”

“Had a feeling you were gonna say that. So should you. How about I stay in here?”

Gabriel assessed his gut response to this suggestion: no terror, no sense of hesitation, no visions of the Sam - of the not-Sam - from his nightmare.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he muttered.

“You wouldn’t mind or you really want me to?”

“Think you said something a little ways back about how when you’re sick you need other people to help juggle things?”

“Oh.” Sam raised his eyebrows. “You actually heard me.”

“I listen,” Gabriel said, feigning indignation.

“All right, come on, you need to lie down.” Sam coaxed the comforter from Gabriel’s shoulders, and Gabriel lay back so that Sam could cover him with it. He closed his eyes and only just then realized that his head ached from exhaustion.

“Sam,” he mumbled, “Don’t sleep on the floor. That’s stupid.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s better. You need time to put the nightmare behind you.”

Gabriel didn’t open his eyes. “You’re getting old, Sammy. Your back is gonna give out.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Sam replied: “All right.”

Contrary to his reluctance, he collapsed into bed, evidently as drained as Gabriel was.

It was the warmth of Sam’s body that jolted Gabriel back to wakefulness.

Silence is different when you have someone lying next to you. This silence had a strange flavor, one of shelter and something like hope.

While Sam wasn’t looking, Gabriel let himself crack open just a little, and allowed tears to slip across the bridge of his nose and onto the pillow.

Perhaps it was the tension of Gabriel’s figure which alerted Sam that something was wrong. He sat up. “Are you okay?”

Sam had seen worse. Sam had seen everything.

When Gabriel rolled over to look up at him, Sam appeared appeared more dismayed than surprised. “Should I leave?”

Gabriel shook his head.

“Then what’s wrong?”

Gabriel tried to swallow and found he couldn’t. “It, uh - it hurts.”

“What hurts?”

His throat. His chest. His stomach. His head. All from choking it down, from clawing at what little pride he had left. “It just hurts.”

Sam searched his face. “I know it does. But you’re safe. You’re with us - with me.”

You can have this every day if you want.

“Okay” was all Gabriel managed.

Sam pulled him into a tentative embrace. Gabriel latched on, breaking free of the constraints he’d wound around himself, terrified by the prospect of Sam letting go.

“I know it’s too much right now,” Sam murmured.

“I didn’t mean to,” Gabriel sobbed. “I didn’t mean to think you’d hurt me; it was wrong, it was cruel - ”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, Sam, it is a big deal! You care and that’s what terrifies me!”

Sam tightened his grip. “I’d kind of figured that out for myself.”

It was revolting, Gabriel thought as he felt his last fragments of control slipping away, how Asmodeus had left him with so little of himself. He kept his face hidden, ashamed of the way his memories and emotions drowned him over and over, making him into nothing, rescripting his character into one of weakness and failure.

Perhaps Sam was correct: angels and humans were more alike than not. But Gabriel had been powerful and independent in a way that none of humankind ever could be, and now he had switched directions by surpassing its capacity for debasement.

“Try to relax,” Sam said, interrupting Gabriel's thoughts. “It’s all gonna be okay. Even if it isn’t now. Just rest up and pretend that it is.”

Too worn out to object, Gabriel attempted to lie still.

“Come on,” Sam said, “You need to sleep. I’m not going anywhere, all right?”

Gabriel wanted to ask, Why? But, inevitably, Sam would remain unfazed. It was annoying how committed he was to guiding Gabriel through these ugly moments.

There’s nothing you can’t do.

Gabriel closed his eyes.

Not when you’re with me.