#dagon starts “forgetting” to fix their coat

[shynrinn]

michael is all about cleanliness and order, angel won't start the meeting unless everything is right.

[pengychan]

[Good Omens] Winging It - James 2:14

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael. Rating: T  

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N: *insert joke about an archangel loose in London here*

***

“So what’s your plan? Making me drive around at random just in case he happens to walk by?”

“Do you have a better idea? One single-”

“Say ‘one single better idea’, angel, and I’m kicking you out of the car.”

“No, you won’t.”

The certainty in Aziraphale’s voice was honestly infuriating. Crowley made a face, taking a rather daring turn while overtaking a lorry. “How come you always assume I won’t follow up on my threats?”

“Because you never do.”

“Well, it might be all part of my plan to deceive you.”

“Oh?”

“Like crying wolf, but the smart way. And when you least expect it, I will follow through.”

“That would be diabolical,” Aziraphale conceded, trying and failing to hold back an amused smile. “You wily old serp-- the bus! Watch out! This would be-- oh, the most inconvenient time to get discorporated!”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been driving since before driving licences were invented.”

“You’d have never passed the test.”

“You only say that because you tried and failed.” A swerve to the left, then a sigh. “This is hopeless. I have no better ideas but I can tell you, you do not find a missing guy in London by just driving around and hoping to bump into him. Not literally bump into him. But I’d like to.”

“He can’t have gone that far.”

“He might have if he hopped on the Tube. Maybe he did. Went all the way to Heathrow, got on a plane, fucked off to… don’t know, Tenerife or something. A nice place, except when planes crash on each other at Los Rodeos. I got a commendation for that, but had nothing to do with it.”

Aziraphale groaned, rubbing his face. “I don’t know how I’d explain that to Michael.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to Michael,” Crowley reminded him, and glanced over as Aziraphale pulled out his phone and tried to make a call. “Still nothing?”

“Nothing. He must have turned it off, or maybe it ran out of… no, it’s supposed to never run out of battery. He just turned it off.”

“Or some guy on a moped snatched it right out of his hand. Happens a lot.”

“Let’s… assume that did not happen. For my sanity,” Aziraphale muttered. “He’ll… turn it back on, sooner or later.”

“That would be ideal. We could get in and pop out on his side, and then proceed to stick the phone up his--”

“Crowley.”

“What? He just ran off on us - and we’ve been trying to help, and to great personal cost in my case. Why would he do that?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “Maybe he needed some time alone. Maybe he felt upset, or humiliated.” A pause. “... Maybe he’s just an idiot.”

“Now you’re making sense,” Crowley muttered, turning to glance at the street around them, then sighed. “This is hopeless. Our best bet is waiting for him to turn on that phone or call,” he said. Aziraphale could only nod.

As the car pulled away from the curb to return to the bookshop, a fly buzzed out of the rolled-down window.

***

Later on, once he would be able to think straight again and that awful sickness - hangover, it was called - was gone, Gabriel would be rather grateful for the fact nearly everything he'd said had been dismissed as the ramblings of a drunken man. 

Because he was drunk and he did ramble. A lot. 

"So. You were cast out of Heaven just last night, huh?"

"Yeeeeeessir. Just-- off with the wings-- and I got a penis at some point-- boom, a bolt of lighting--  and I landed in the middle of Soho."

A raised eyebrow. "Oh, of course. As you do. Aliens land in Manhattan every single time, seems only fair we get angels in Soho. And how may I call you?" the man asked with a laugh, leaning back against the tree and taking another swig himself. He'd drunk easily three times Gabriel's amount, and wasn't even tipsy. 

Gabriel took another swig himself. He found it pleasant, how it went down his throat and how warm he felt. Like nothing was wrong, or at least nothing he couldn't fix. "Archangel Fucking Gabriel," he informed him, leaning forward with a grin. "Going by Gabriel F Archer now, but-- wait.  Waaait-- Hah! I just got what the F stands for!"

Another laugh. "Hah! Nice to meet you, Archangel Fucking Gabriel. My name's Daniel Brown."

Oooh, now that was a familiar one. Gabriel grinned widely, leaning forward. "Daniel! I knew someone named Daniel! My favorite prophet!"

"Oh? So you met him?"

"Yes! He had visions, I was sent to explain them to him, and-- hah!" Gabriel threw back his head and burst into laughter to the point his sides almost hurt. He wheezed out the rest of the story, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "I'm there all 'fear not, fear not', but he got so scared, he fell flat on his face right there and then! It was hilarious, I tell you - I had to pick him up from the ground. He was ill for days. Frail stuff, mortals,” Gabriel added, blissfully forgetful of how he’d stopped a car with his face earlier that day, and needed to be miracled back to health before his mortal life could be snuffed out. “Delicate."

“Hu-uh. You know, I think I might have to pick you up from the ground if you have any more to drink. You really can’t hold alcohol, can you?” 

Gabriel entirely ignored him. He took another swig and then sniggered before raising his hands and repeating what he’d thundered to the other Daniel, so long ago. “Behold! I will make known to you what will happen in the latter time of wrath, because it concerns the appointed time of the end-- hey! Hey!”

“No more for tonight,” Daniel said, holding the bottle well out of Gabriel’s reach. His arms flailed uselessly, and he almost tumbled forward; a hand braced against his shoulder was the only thing that spared his face a meeting with the ground. Which was soft, really, the way grassy soil is. Come to think of it, his eyelids were beginning to feel heavy. Maybe he should sleep, wasn’t that what humans did when their head spun and eyelids got heavy? Take a nap?

“Ah, look at you. Drunk as a skunk after half a bottle, and you’re not that small!” 

A laugh, and a pair of hands grasped him under the shoulders, brushing where his wings had been. The memory of what had happened almost made it back to his mind, but the laughing voice above him was reassuring enough and it did not. Gabriel looked up to see the moon winking at him through the tree branches, and thought that it didn’t look so pretty from Heaven. 

Then he shut his eyes, and for a time he didn’t think about anything at all.

***

“... They lost an archangel.”

The incredulity in Dagon’s tone would have been slightly insulting, if Beelzebub had allowed themselves to think that, technically, they had lost him as well. A few minutes without watching him, and he’d taken off. Figuratively, of course, because he still didn’t have wings.

While listening to the conversation between the Traitor Crowley and That Other Traitor From Upstairs had given them no clue as to where That Insufferable Archangel may be, it had at least reassured them that the Heavenly forces had no idea either. They didn’t even know he was missing, which gave Beelzebub an advantage they had no intention to squander. 

“Yes, they lost him. I haven’t called you here to repeat what I said. I have called you here to find him. I want all demons available on the ground in London, immediately.”

Dagon nodded, efficient as always. At least something, Beelzebub thought, still worked the way it was supposed to. “Of course. What should they do once they find him? Contain him, or--”

“No,” Beelzebub cut her off, waving their hand, which also served to scare a few flies away, if only for a moment. “Once he’s found, they’ll report to me. I already told you, this is personal.”

A nod. “Right. I’ll get all our demons searching.”

“Good. It is imperative that they find him before… those two do it. Or the ones upstairs. The pathetic little lie they were fed won’t buy us much time.”

“Of course,” Dagon nodded and turned to leave, only to pause when Beelzebub called her back. 

“Remind them to avoid any confrontation with the traitors. It’s not that we fear them, of course,” they added, just a little too quickly. “But we truly don’t need the hassle.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“And the archangel is not to be harmed. I still believe we can win him over for our cause. Any demon who harms him will have to face my wrath - makes sure we’re clear on that.”

Dagon - who was the Master of Torments for a reason and also just so happened to have a drill on her - smiled, showing off two rows of sharp teeth. “I’ll drill it in their minds,” she said.

Beelzebub’s gaze fell on her coat. “Tell me you don’t have a drill in your pocket.”

Dagon’s smile widened as they held it out. “About my application for the title of Master of Puns-”

“I am not hearing this,” Beelzebub droned. Truth be told, they didn’t even remember where the application had ended up. It was entirely possible someone had used it to clean after the Hellhound before it was sent out to find the Antichrist and proceed to do absolutely nothing of any use. “You are the Master of Torments and Lord of the Files. Two titles are enough.”

And I’ll throw myself into a giant fly trap before I let you have one more title than I do. 

Dagon looked disappointed, but didn’t argue. No one with even an inkling of common sense would start arguing with the Prince of Hell.

Gabriel had, of course. It had been annoying, when he’d been an Archangel; being challenged by him while he was an infinitely weaker mortal whose life could be snuffed out like a candle thrown in the ocean from the deck of the Titanic had been… more on the amusing side.

Gabriel did not, in fact, possess an inkling of common sense. Back before the Fall… back before the Fall--

Beelzebub let out a buzzing noise at the sudden pain in their head, the flies around them dancing wildly, and immediately dropped that thought. It was pointless; Satan himself aside, they remembered very little of who they were and what they did before the Fall. And it was fine.

If something hurt to remember, it wasn’t worth the trouble of remembering at all.

***

Gabriel’s head hurt.

He could have complained, but at the moment he couldn’t find it in himself to. As far as his extremely limited experience in awakenings went, this one - waking up with a headache inside a blue tent he didn’t remember  entering - was, by far, the least traumatic yet. 

Of course there was some confusion, especially when he poked his head out to see the man he’d met the previous evening stirring inside a sleeping bag on the ground. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and blinked as he put him into focus. 

“Oh, here’s the Archangel. How are you feeling?’

“My head aches-- wait, what--??” Gabriel panicked inwardly, blood turning into ice. How could that mortal know - wasn’t he mortal? Had he been fooled by a demon, or an angel, or--

Daniel threw back his head and laughed. “Hah! So you don’t remember? You got so drunk last night, you kept muttering nonsense about being the Archangel Gabriel.”

… Oh. Oh.

“Ah. Yes. I… don’t remember that,” Gabriel muttered, finally crawling out of the tend and standing upright. His back was sore, too; he stretched, getting a faint pop out of his spine. It didn’t feel too bad.

“I had never seen anybody get that shitfaced with half a bottle of beer,” Daniel was muttering, wriggling out of the sleeping bag. Gabriel had a feeling he was supposed to be offended, but he frowned at something else. His gaze went from the sleeping bag on the grass to the tent, and then back to Daniel. Had he-- left the tent to him?

“You didn’t have to sleep outside on my account,” he said, embarrassed. The man shrugged and stretched. The crack coming from his spine was much louder. 

“Ah, not a problem. It’s still mild this time of the year, I don’t mind sleeping outside from time to time. Will be different in a few weeks, but by then you’ll hopefully be back on your feet.”

“... You, too.”

“Heh. My situation is pretty complicated.”

“So is mine.”

A sigh. “Ah, well. Nothing will be solved if we stand here and mope. Let’s head out - there is a McDonald’s nearby. Nice staff, a toilet, cheap breakfast, and wifi for job hunting.”

Oh, Gabriel thought, of course. Jobs. Human’s livelihood almost entirely depended on their ability to produce something of value; of course he’d be expected to have a job. 

Well, I did lose my job, didn’t I? 

“... Of course. So, you-- said you lost your job?”

“Ah, that was a link in the chain that got me here. First my health, then my job, then my wife, then my home,” Daniel said, and scratched his cheek. “Still luckier than a friend of mine was. ‘Fit for work’, they said, because he could walk unaided for fifty feet or something. Benefits cut. He went under a train the next month, wheelchair and all. Turns out he wasn’t fit for work.” A sigh. “Would like to think he’s in a better place. My wife, too.”

I could make enquiries, Gabriel almost said, but he did not. It would require getting in touch with Heaven, and he… he couldn’t do that; the thought alone made his stomach clench. Another idea entered his mind - he could try asking Beelzebub, if they could be found, whether they were in Hell. Certainly, if not there, they’d be in Heaven. Still, he didn’t want to do that either.

Gabriel could think of no nice way to tell a mortal that his loved ones are in Hell.

***

Michael was rather certain paperwork was the closest to a taste of Hell you could get in Heaven.

Of course she wasn’t entirely new to it; a certain amount of paperwork would always be part of life, be it mortal or… well, not. Heaven didn’t run itself, after all. As its population grew with mortal souls who had gained themselves entry - only angels dwelled on the upper floors, of course, and aside for a few rather extraordinary souls getting a promotion their number had stayed more or less steady at ten million since the Schism - Gabriel had taken it upon himself to organize things in a rational manner, to hand out tasks and ensure they were carried out. 

“Heaven won’t run itself,” was precisely what he’d said, and God had approved of his ideas - or at least, they had never sent Metatron to say otherwise, which counted as approval. It had to, didn’t it? It was the most logical way to ensure they followed the Great Plan and got to the final war organized and prepared. If God were displeased, they would make it very clear. So their silence, stretching out for millennia, had to mean they approved.

Everyone had done their share, including herself, Sandalphon and Uriel - Gabriel’s closest aides. None of them below him, but all of them more than willing to leave most of the bureaucracy to him; it was his element, after all, and he’d enjoyed the task in ways they never would have. But now he was gone, and they had to pick up where he’d left off.

And to be completely honest, Sandalphon’s expression spelled out, it absolutely sucked.

“There is… a lot more backlog than I thought there would be.”

“Well, we were expecting the world to end,” Uriel reasoned, going through some notes that had piled up on Gabriel’s desk. A perfectly white and perfectly pristine computer took over the other half of it, everything in it filed away meticulously, but Gabriel had clearly never gotten the time to go through that pile. There was the army to rally, after all, the entire order of existence to change, which would make that work rather useless in the even of either victory or defeat.

Nothing had changed, and yet everything had. No war had come but oh, did Michael feel they had been defeated, in some way she couldn’t quite grasp. Not the whole of the Heavenly forces, of course, but them personally. They had lost a valuable asset, after all. A friend who had been stripped of his angelic nature and now wanted nothing to do with them for something they had not chosen or wanted. And at the moment, it felt they had lost their sense of purpose as well. 

For so long they’d prepared for a day that did not come; now they had no instructions. They should have paid more attention on the observation files; no one really really looked at them until Michael had realized something about Aziraphale was off. Gabriel hadn’t thought of it either, but why would he? Who’d have ever thought an angel would turn against the Great Plan - and turn out, in some ineffable way, to be the one in the right?

Had it truly been part of the Ineffable plan, or was it a failure from their part? Surely, if it was part of the Ineffable plan, they had been meant to fail. It should have made the sense of failure burn a bit less, but it did not. It seemed unfair. And with what had befallen Gabriel… it seemed cruel.

God doesn’t play games with the universe, Gabriel used to say. 

Ah, but did God play games with us? Is this what we get for serving the Almighty?

Michael shook her head, trying to get rid of that thought, and looked up… only to see that same thought mirrored in the faces of Uriel and Sandalphon, plain as day. Wondering. Questioning. 

“Let’s get to work. When-- if Gabriel returns, he should find everything in order,” Michael said.

No one really believed that might happen, but there was that tiny sliver of hope to cling to. 

Against all odds they had been wrong before, after all. 

***

“... Is something wrong?”

“Hmm?”

“I get a feeling I’m being stared at,” Gabriel muttered, glancing around as discreetly as possible. There were a few glances towards their table, which he couldn’t make any sense of. He was eating like everybody else in there, in hopes it wouldn’t make him sick again. 

Daniel shrugged, eyes still fixed on the screen of his phone, scrolling down what Gabriel assumed was a job listing. He had a half-eaten egg and bacon sandwich in his other hand. “Ah, they’re looking at me. I do get looks like that.”

“Why?”

“Homeless guy sitting at a table. I always get some looks. They’re probably wondering why I’m here with a smartphone in my hand. People act funny when homeless folks have phones. I wonder how else they think we can apply for jobs.”

“What’s wrong with having a phone?”

“Ah, nothing. But it ruins the idea they have of poor folks dressed in rags, holding up an empty bowl and going Oliver Twist at them. Please, sir, may I have some more?”

Gabriel frowned in confusion, and glanced down at his own sandwich, still untouched as he ate the hash brown. “... You want my sandwich?”

“Wha-- no, no, it was the quote. Oliver Twist?” he tried. Gabriel blinked, mind drawing a blank. 

“... Ah, nevermind. By the way, there is an app you need to get. It tells you if any places are giving away free samples of food in your area. Bakeries do that a lot.

“Oh.”

“Also, there is a gym open all day and all night not far from here. Invest some money in a membership card.”

“Huh? Why?” Gabriel asked, confused. Not that he did not see the point of physical exercise, but why pay when jogging is free?

Daniel grinned. “Showers accessible all the time, and a locker to keep any valuables you really are not safe having with you in the streets. Plus, it’s someplace warm to be if it gets really cold.”

“I see.”

“You really want to keep yourself as clean as possible, to keep looking the way you do now. You don’t seem homeless. I would have never guessed when we met.”

Gabriel glanced down at himself. He was still wearing the track suit, but the coat he had on was rather nice and, while he had some stubble on his cheeks, it was a far cry from the untamed beard on Daniel’s face. That was probably going to change, he thought; his body hair would grow, too. He mentally added ‘shaving’ to the growing list of human skills he’d need to master.

“That’s a good thing, by the way,” Daniel was saying through a mouthful. “It’s easier if you look like someone with an office job and someplace to be at night. I know I should try to look less like the part, but ah, it gets so tiring after a time.” One last bite of his sandwich, and he stood. “I’m getting another coffee. Want more? My treat.”

Gabriel shook his head. He may not know exactly how much the money he had left in the wallet was worth, but he could tell he had more than Daniel; making him pay for his coffee did not sit well with him. Plus, he probably should moderate in his intake of food and liquids. 

“No. No, I’m good,” he said. As Daniel went to get more of that oddly bitter beverage, Gabriel went on to start his sandwich, and took out his phone.

***

Aziraphale almost missed the call. 

In his defense, the phone decided to ring just as he was preparing a good cup of tea for himself as well as black coffee for Crowley, who’d then add sugar while hoping Aziraphale would not notice that he did not, in fact, ‘like his coffee black and bitter like the deepest pits of Hell’. Not a problem, that: he’d pretended not to notice for four centuries, he could keep up the act. 

Or at least he would have, but he’d dropped both mugs as he rushed to answer the phone, leaving Crowley to miracle the pieces back together. He snatched the receiver up mid-ring. 

“Hello? This is--”

“Aziraphale,” Gabriel’s voice rang out. Oh, thank God, there he was, safe and sound. Or, well, at least alive. He didn’t sound like he’d been hit by another car, at least.

“Gabriel.” Aziraphale let out a sigh of relief. “Where are you?”

“Why the Heaven did you run off like that, you arsehole?” Crowley called out from the back. 

If Gabriel heard him, he entirely ignored him. “I’ve met- there are people sleeping in the streets.”

Aziraphale frowned. “Yes,” he said. “Homelessness is a terrible problem in London.”

“I thought that was sorted out in… I don’t know. Industrial revolution?”

Ah, he really knew little to nothing about the world. “It was never quite sorted.”

“You could sort that out,” Gabriel pointed out, an accusing note to his voice that made Aziraphale frown again. Did he really think he could find homes for everybody who needed one with a snap of his fingers? Did he really think it would be that easy?”

“There are limits to what we can do to help humans. We can’t just take charge of their fates.”

“Why not? We know better,” Gabriel said, like he hadn’t been about to let the entire world burn without thinking twice about it so that he could have his war.

“... I’ll pretend I haven’t heard that. I help when I can, if I do happen to meet--”

“It’s not enough!”

“Oh, if only someone hadn’t reprimanded me several times for frivolous miracles whenever I did helped too many people! What have you ever done?”

Aziraphale sort of regretted saying that a few moments after the words left his mouth, but also sort of… not. He was trying to help, and Gabriel wasn’t making it easy. There was a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line, and he expected protests, but there was only silence. He took a long breath himself. “Tell me where you are, and--”

Click.

Ah. Of course. Of-bloody-course. 

“... I suppose this is the wrong moment to remind you we could have teleported ourselves to him through the phone line instead of politely asking where he is,” Crowley muttered, raising an eyebrow. Aziraphale groaned, and tried to call back, to no avail. 

“He turned off the phone. Again.”

“Well, we did our best. Here’s your mug, like new.”

“Crowley.”

“What? We don’t know where to find him anyway. He made it through the night and wasn’t dragged to Hell, so not a bad going. Let him figure out a few things by himself and talk about important stuff.”

Aziraphale found himself smiling. “South Downs?” he asked, and Crowley grinned back. 

“Yes. South Downs."

***

"What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them?" James 2:14

***

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[wanderingcas]

Week 7: Season 12 Inspired Destiel!

[Thank you, everyone, for your wonderful submissions to Week 6 of Spn Fanfic Submission Thursday!! There’s some absolutely quality fics in this list, so check them out. If you want to participate in next week’s fic submissions, check out the schedule!

Please signal boost so we can get these great fics circulating!]

Things That Will Probably Not Happen in Season 12 by @expatgirl

Three fics from Mary’s POV as she tries to adjust to being alive again, tries to understand her sons, and the guy that seems to live with them. The fourth fic is from Dean’s POV, as he tries to understand the same things.

Teen and Up; Mature for the 3rd fic, 8.7k words. (Complete)

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Warnings: Mild eye trauma/ mild body horror (not shown), brief suicidal thoughts

Dean (and Cas') Top 13 Zepp Traxx by @pantheonofdiscord

Dean eases Baby down the frontage road, trying not to look in the rearview mirror as his home gets smaller and smaller behind him.

He’s done this a hundred times. He’s driven down this road in the soft morning light, heading out to some little town in some distant corner of the country. This is a job like any other.

“It’s not like we’re never coming back,” Cas says from the passenger seat.

Dean and Cas and the open road, to the tune of Led Zeppelin. A post-series story in thirteen parts.

Explicit. 82k words. (Complete)

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And Back Again by @funnywings

Takes place after the finale. Mourning, loss, and a game of spot the difference between the Cas that used to be and the one Jack brought back. Happy ending guaranteed. 

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This Isn’t How It Was Supposed To Go by @nox-lee

It’s been excruciating all this time without Dean and now he’s finally here. Cas wants to soak Dean in, wants to scrub him clean of the prison grime and smooth away the new lines that have formed on his hardened face. He wants to breathe him in and re-catalogue every freckle. Instead he watches Dean disappear down the hall and slam his bedroom door.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go.

Explicit. 3k words. (Complete)

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Even months after the events with the portal, neither Sam and Dean have given up on bringing Cas back. Jack doesn’t to begin with know his true heritage so he tries to help, but not knowing how to raise the dead, he opens the portal again, which just brings up bad memories and things become even more complex when he finds out who he is.

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Set right after season 11, this story explores the new dynamics now that Mary is back. Dean finds out something about himself as he and his family try to find Pandora's box to trap Lucifer. 

Teen and Up. 16k words. (Complete)

[Destiel]

Rage by @darkheartinthesky

Castiel was always too stubborn for his own good–too stubborn to die, even. As Castiel sits recovering, Sam and Dean prepare for their biggest fight yet. Meanwhile, come Hell or high water, Mary Winchester is getting back to her home world.

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Warnings: Graphic imagery, violence

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Cas is standing right before him: same coat, same blue eyes—so radiant and alive, as if they have never lost their light.

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Warning: Major Character Death

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Teen and up. 1.5k words. (Complete)

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“Cas,” he whispered, and he was able to hear the blood rushing through the veins in his ears. Shimmering lights were dancing at the corners of his vision. His skin felt both burning hot and ice cold at the same time, the way he imagined it would feel if you dove into a pool while someone branded you with a burning claw – the way that left scars.

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A sort of coda to 12x13, inspired by 12x14 and this post, and set between the two episodes. Dean’s pissed about Mary lying to them and putting lives in danger—for putting Cas’ life in danger. He’s angry and he needs some comfort and distraction. He also needs another bottle of scotch. Castiel provides.

Teen and Up. 3.5k words. (Complete)

[Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Winchester Coping Mechanisms, First Kiss, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant]

Careless by @lies-unfurl

Castiel has always obeyed Ishim.

Explicit. 1.5k words. (Complete)

[Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Castiel, Castiel Whump, Episode: s12e10 Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets]

Warnings: rape/non-con, suicidal thoughts

Angels Calling by @hefellfordean

Post s12e17: Castiel has tracked down Dagon and Kelly Kline with the help of other angels, after the Winchesters and Eileen let her go, and calls Dean for help. Dean has to deal with Cas’ return to Heaven and is worried about what that means for their relationship.(Basically my guess about what would happen to Kelly Kline before the final episodes aired)

Teen and Up. 2.7k words. (Complete)

[Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, BAMF!Cas]

Just Pretend by @thursdays-fallen-angel

After Sam’s footsteps crunch over the gravel and disappear into the house, the only sound remaining is Dean’s ragged breathing, and the thundering of his own heartbeat in his ears.

General. 2k words. (Complete)

[Angst, 12x23 spoilers, Fix-It]

Hymnal by @humanformdragon

When Castiel meets Mary on the way to the Bunker, they end up talking about the past, and about doubt, and about decisions. Castiel recalls a past Christmas, one where Anna was ordered to carry out God’s will in a village no-one now remembers, and he finds he isn’t so sure of when his first steps towards Falling were taken.

General Audiences. 7.8k words. (Complete)

[Castiel and Mary talk, Conversations, Destiel is background, Mostly me musing on Castiel’s past, s12 time frame]

May I Have This Dance? by @thefiendishfangirl

Mary takes a quiet moment to teach Castiel to dance.

Teen and Up. 1.1k words. (Complete) 

[slow dancing, fluff, implied smut, supportive mary, cockblock sam]

Untitled by @deanwinchcester

Based on this post. Cas can sense lies and confronts Dean on the “you’re our brother” line.

General Audiences. 369 words. (Complete)

[first kiss, 12.19 coda]

lifeless by @casitels

Dean brings Cas’ hand to his lips, and for a moment, he leaves it there.

General. 196 words. (Complete)

[Coda, Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower]

Warnings: Major Character Death

the (not so) reluctant big spoon by @woefulcas

dean and cas get some much needed time together while sam works a case with eileen - sleepy morning cuddles ensue

General Audience. .5k words. (Complete)

[hunter husbands, extreme fluff, sleepy morning cuddles, dean likes being the little spoon but he wants to wrap himself around cS ok, it’s a struggle, s12 should have had more fluff and cuddling and i’m bitter about it]

The Way Out by @awed-frog

Things are going pretty good, which is why Dean should have seen it coming. Sam and Toni are so in love it’s disgusting, the big monsters are all gone or dead, and Dean and Cas - yeah, okay, so they kissed and now they’re kind of together, okay? Shut up.

No, the second Dean had caught himself thinking about food processors and beach holidays, he should have fucking known his happy ending would turn around and kick him in his fucking teeth. And now it has, and they’re supposed to get on a damn plane and put on monkey suits and have Christmas dinner at Lord and Lady Bevell’s, and Dean just can’t - he can’t face it, he can’t breathe, he can’t even see through the injustice of it all, because Cas - Cas -

Mature. 67k words. (Complete)

[Angst and Feels, Pining, Friendship, Time Travel, First Kiss, First Time, Declarations Of Love, Team Free Will, Young Winchesters, Profound Bond, Canon Compliant]

softly; because we are screaming by @cuddlemonsterdean

He’d tried, all through dinner. Fuck, did he try. They’re a family and families eat together. But the food just didn’t wanna go down. As if there were still words locked in his throat, words of hurt and accusation, and they were in the way. The more he tried to get past them, the harder it got to talk. Like his insides were torn between heaving it all up and keeping everything inside.

Teen And Up Audiences. 1k words. (Complete)

[implied/background Deancas, implied one-sided Crowley/Dean, 12x14 Coda]

Warnings: implied panic attack, implied selectively mute!Dean

Season 12 episode codas series by @whichstiel

A series of 24 episode codas for season 12 - one unique story for each episode, plus a bonus story for that Endverse prop photo from episode 2. Features Destiel, Rowena, Mary, Crowley, Lily Sunder, the Banes twins, and Saileen.

Generic to Explicit, 32.5k words. (Complete)

The sun cannot fall from the sky by @the-idiot-under-your-bed

Coda for 12x23. “Just know that no matter what anyone says, they love you. I love you, and Dean loves you. Just, don’t give up, ok? Come back home.” 

Teen and Up. 1.3k words. (WIP)

[12x23 coda, angst, wayward sisters are there too, anger, canon character death, character return?]

The Death of Reservations by @60r3d0m

Maybe at some point, he had stopped believing. But not believing hadn’t stopped him from ducking into the room that he had prepared for Cas’ return every month. Not believing hadn’t prevented him from dusting the shelves and washing the sheets and accumulating stupid knick-knacks for Cas to have because they had reminded Dean of him.

But now Cas is back.

Before Dean can call him, he’s standing in the doorway (coda to 12.23).

Mature. 616 words. (Complete)

[Love confessions, caretaker Dean, Castiel in the Bunker]

All Was Well (Previously: Fuck You) by @hunterangelkisses

Dean might never admit it, but this was all he needed in life: him and his Baby and Cas (who was his second Baby, really) and his brother and Eileen, his mom would be back in a few days… Jody had called to check in earlier with stories about the girls, and even Donna had called the day before to tell them how things were going in Stillwater. In other words, here it is, the sweetest, fluffiest fic ever as a giant FUCK YOU to Bucklemming (or Fucklemming, as I’ve been calling them) and the other SPN writers.

General Audiences. 1.7k words. (Complete)

[fluff, established relationship, marriage proposal, fix-it for 12x21 There’s Something About Mary]

Balance And New Beginnings by @hekate1308

Dean turns his back on his family and the legacy of the Men of Letters when he learns Sam and Mary have been working with their British counterparts behind his back. Joining Cas on good-old-fashioned hunting trips, occasionally aided by Crowley, he soon learns there are more good monsters out there than he ever thought possible. And they need a protector.

Meanwhile, Sam is growing more and more lonely until one day, he looks in the mirror and doesn’t recognize the man staring back at him. Is it too late to return to the brother he’s let down so many times before?

General Audiences. 54k words. (Complete)

[Dean/Cas, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Season 12 AU, post-12x14]

You, You’re Everything by @spearywritesstuff

Castiel tells Dean about his last days in his female vessel. Ishim said that humans were dangerous and that being close to them made one weak, but twice now Castiel has tested that theory, once in 1901 and now with Dean.

General Audiences. 1.7k words. (Complete)

[Coda for 12x10, Lily Sunder Has Regrets]

Say it Again? by @a-fandom-life-for-me

Back in the bunker after the events of 12x12, Dean is furious with Castiel and his deathbed “I love you.” The sexual tension reaches its breaking point and Dean discovers just how much Castiel actually loves him

Mature. 8k words. (Complete)

[Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Season/Series 12, Season/Series 12 Spoilers, Wingfic, Angel Wings, Men of Letters Bunker, Bunker Sex, Castiel in the Bunker, Sam Ships It, Grace-Powered Orgasms, Angelic Grace, Grace Kink, Soul Bond, Love, Anal Sex, Rough Sex]

O’ Christmas Tree Series by @osirisapollo

This series was written before we really knew how terribly anti-family Mary was going to be. It’s based around Christmas/New Years and has the whole Winchester family (including Cas!) happily celebrating the holidays together. Dean/Cas get together series, starting with a ficlet on how Dean figures out his feelings for Cas.

Teen and Up. 13.5k words. (Complete)

[Tooth-rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Sam Ships it, Mary Ships It, Holidays, Humor, First Kiss, Family Feels, Everything is Fine and Nothing Hurts]

Still Missing (Gotta Tell You Something) by @profound-boning

“I hope they don’t come for you, Cas. God knows what would happen if they somehow found out about the Bunker. If they…”

Dean cuts himself off and Castiel strains to pick up more. Dean’s longing is still strong, and a tug from Sam’s soul echoes in Castiel’s grace. After so many years, Sam is a brother in all but blood to Castiel. And Dean, well. Dean says “you’re our brother” and also “I need you” and Castiel can’t help but think maybe Dean doesn’t always say what’s really in his heart.

General. 2.4k words. (Complete)

[Canon Compliant, Episode: s12e09 First Blood, Coda, POV Castiel. Mutual Pining, Love Confessions]