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[destiel-and-cockles-writer]

“Cas, Cas no! Castiel!”

“Dean, Dean!”

Dean woke up, and shot out of bed, landing on his feet, arms out towards the ceiling. “Dean! Dean!” Sam’s voice grew every time, and finally he took Dean’s shoulders and held him tightly. “Dean, it was just a dream. Look at me, look at me, there we go.”

Sweat was dripping down Dean’s face, and his eyes were huge and crying, as his frantic gaze landed on his brother.

“Sam,” he choked out, letting his arms fall down.

“Yeah, it’s me, it’s okay, you’re-“

“Cas?”

Dean was staring wildly at Sam, hoping that was part of the terrible dream. Sam realized that, and that’s what made it so hard remind him. “He’s, um,”

“Gone.” Dean broke eye contact, and swallowed hard. “Gone, right,” Dean cleared his throat and blinked a few times, gaining his composure. “Yeah, sorry, just a,”

“Yeah, I get it. I get them too.”

Dean was still sweating from his nightmare, and he sat on his bed. “Sorry, you can go back to bed.”

Sam nod and hesitantly left, leaving Dean alone in his dark room.

“Cas,” he whispered, his voice breaking. Whenever he closed his eye, he saw hell fire around him, and Castiel the Angel pulling him out.

He didn’t want to remember hell, but it was the only way he could see Cas.

Dean slid off his bed, and moved onto his knees. Turning around to face the bed, he let his arms rest against the mattress and clasped them together.

“Castiel?”

A tear ran down his face, as he closed his eyes.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but, I gotta hope you can. I gotta believe there’s an afterlife for you, there’s gotta be. You were too good to just-“ Dean cut himself off, knowing he was about to cry.

“I wish you were here Cas,” Dean dipped his head, letting a tear roll off his cheek. “I wish you were here with me.”

Opening his eyes, he took a deep breath and got back into bed. When he closed his eyes and sleep came, he dreamed of Castiel with him in the bunker, laughing over well expired jokes with cheap beer.

When he woke up, it was just another nightmare he was forced to live.

[destiel-and-cockles-writer]

“Cassy,” Micheal mocked, walking around the halls.

You’ve all seen this scene before. The body of Dean Winchester roaming the halls of the bunker, weapon in hand, chasing down a weaker victim. What’s poetic is that both time it was brother chasing brother. The stronger and older brother, chasing the younger, weaker and terrified brother. “Come on Cas, Dean just wants to say hi.”

Castiel was running, grace hanging on by a thread, and fear clogging his mind. He tried to convince himself this wasn’t real, maybe a dream. Only once had he wished he could sleep, and now was that time. Sleep and ignore Micheal. Sleep and ignore Dean’s voice, luring him like a siren lures it’s prey.

Hiding behind an open door in the bunker, he hoped his fading grace would make him less detectable. “Castiel show yourself!” Micheal yelled, as he passed the room Cas was hiding in.

Wanting to cry, Castiel remembered when Dean shouted those words to expel Lucifer. It was his turn to expel a powerful angel, so that he can save someone he loves.

He turned around and noticed what room he was in, if you haven’t guessed already, and he sank to his knees. This was the breaking point.

Deans room lay in front of him, messy yet neat; an attempt to move into a home while knowing it’s impossible.

The bedsheets haven’t been touched in months, and were still and laid out without a crease, while Sam had removed the plates of food from his room. Circles where cold beers have been stained the counter, and clothes scatter the floor near the laundry bin.

Castiel cried.

He wasn’t quiet about it either. He weeped, and screamed, and pound his fits against the floor. Fuck Micheal if he heard him. Fuck everything. Fuck the bigger plan, fuck Dean for saying yes and fuck Dean for making Cas love him.

Hold on, did you catch that? You got it the same time Cas did.

He loved Dean.

The revolution came late, and his crying stopped. His breathing was shallow.

He loved Dean Winchester.

“Castiel,” Micheal said softly. A shadow in the doorway could make a louder noise. “You know you’re not going to fight.”

Walking around to face Castiel, Micheal kneeled in front of him and lift Cas’ head with his thumb. “I’m sorry it had to end like this. In another world, you’re my second in command. We could fight this together, Castiel.”

“No,” was all Cas could muster. He didn’t stutter, and he didn’t break eye contact with his brothers look-alike.

“I understand.” Micheal watched Cas, as he stared not into his eyes, but Dean’s. “Pretty aren’t they? Green eyes like his... they’re hard to come by.”

Castiel’s attention moved towards Micheal, and his eyes were wet with tears.

No longer was he the Castiel everyone knew. He wasn’t a soldier, wasn’t a leader, wasn’t a fighter. Cas was the youngest angel. Cas was a baby brother looking for advice from his older brother.

He knew Micheal wouldn’t be lenient, and he let his head drop. The angel of tears. It has taken him eons to understand his title, as he starts crying.

“Castiel,”

“Please.” Cas lift his head, but kept on his hands and knees. “Make it quick.”

Micheal stood up, and watched as Castiel dipped his head.

He was surrendering.

Tired of fighting, no, drained from fighting, Castiel’s entire body relaxed. His shoulders dropped, and his wings struggled to droop around him.

Always trying to protect the angel, his wings urged him to stand up, trying to grow from their place on the floor. But Cas didn’t listen to them, and soon, even his wings gave up.

Micheal stood above Castiel, watching him shake.

“What do you want?” Micheal asked him, as Castiel kept his head down.

Cas moved his head up to face Micheal. “What?”

“Its a simple question- you should be able to answer. What’s the matter Castiel?” Micheal crouched down again, getting close to Castiel’s face. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Get away from me,” Cas said. They held eye contact for a long while, assessing each other. “Can, can I talk to-“

“No.”

Micheal stood back up, as Cas dropped his head in shame and fear.

“So many feelings, Castiel. How do you manage them?”

Hearing Dean’s voice made him weep harder, and his shoulders shook with defeat.

“Castiel,” he kneeled down once more, putting his hand on Cas’ cheek. He looked up and met Dean’s gaze, as Micheal’s cold thumb pushed away Cas’ tears. “You are no angel. You have fallen so far. If you’re not an angel, what are you?”

Castiel thought about this before. He had been lost once, but his time with the Winchester’s has given him a final answer. One he could be proud of.

“I’m Castiel,” he said, moving away from Micheal’s grip. “Fallen angel.” Cas put his hands to the floor, and pushed himself up. “Brother, of Sam and Dean Winchester.”

Micheal watched as Castiel stood, and rose with him. “I am, wholly, and entirely,” he let his shoulders lift, and he met Micheals gaze, trying to push back another wave of emotion. “Human.”

Studying him, Micheal put his hand to the top of Castiel’s head, moving his hair slightly to the side, before letting it rest there. His palm pressed against Castiel’s forehead, Cas closed his eyes as another tear dropped.

“And that, brother, is your demise.”

[destiel-and-cockles-writer]

Protection

“Cas!” Dean yelled, running close to Cas and hugging him tightly.

“Hey hey baby, it’s okay.”

Cas held his Omega close to him, as his attacker circled them. “An omega? Castiel, congratulations.”

“Crowley, please, don’t hurt him.” Castiel said, grabbing his blade.

Crowley stopped in front of Cas, showing off his blade. “I would never hurt an omega Castiel, you on the other hand, I would gladly.”

“Dean, you’ve got to go. Dean please,” Cas said, trying to push him away.

“No! No Cas I won’t leave! If you’re gonna kill him, you’re gonna kill me too you son of a bitch!” Dean yelled, not letting his grip loosen.

Knowing how bad it would look if he killed an omega, Crowley reluctantly stood down. He looked at his demons around him, who all awaited his next move. “Alright, fine, I won’t. But Castiel, this is your final warning. Don’t interfere again, or else your stupid Omega will burn with you.”

In the blink of an eye, Crowley was gone. Dean slowly let go of Cas, and the two smiled at their accomplishment. “You know Cas, I’m happy with being your shield and all, but maybe you should stop messing with Crowley.”

“Hitting an omega is like hitting a girl. Nobody would ever dare, if they were a true alpha. Everyone will know, and his status will be punished severely.” Castiel said, putting an arm around his omega as they walked home.

“You know, I’m beginning to think you like watching me act like I’m a submissive, prissy omega in front of everyone. You just like the possession of it.” Dean said, leaning closer to Cas.

“But you are Dean, I’m just using it so we don’t get killed.”

“You’re an asshole Cas.”

“Cas?”

Faltering only a moment, Dean changed his words. “Sorry, you’re an asshole, Alpha.”

Castiel smiled at the name, and held his head a little higher.

“There’s my little Omega.”

Prompt

@sherlock-hannibalcrazy

[destiel-and-cockles-writer]

Happy Birthday!

Castiel woke up, his eyes not wanting to open. When you’re a human, these things come easy to you. Only recently has Cas had to battle with these small things. Hunger, having to shower, sleep, going to the bathroom, all these are what you expect. Things you’re told are going to be a change. Nobody tells you how goddamn hard it is to wake up in the morning, and how a strange substance over your eyes attempts to keep them closed.

Alas, Castiel rubs his eyes and looks up at the spinning ceiling fan. It’s so mesmerizing, Castiel wants to stare at it forever. Pushing himself into a sitting position and swinging his legs over the bed, Cas wills himself to wake up. At that moment, a soft knock comes at the door. “Yes?” Castiel asks, unaware if they noise was even there.

Slowly, the door opens, and Sam’s head pops in the room. “Morning Cas, we made pancakes, they’re best when they’re hot and fresh from the pan. If I were you I’d hurry up before Dean eats them all.” Sam gives a smile, which Cas returns tiredly.

“Alright, I’ll be out in a moment.” Sam nods and shuts the door again, leaving Cas alone with his thoughts. He reaches for his phone to check the time.

8:37

September 18th

Castiel rolls his eyes at the early time, and stands up to stretch. As he does so, he gets extremely dizzy. His brain goes foggy, and he closes his eyes. Loosing his balance, he falls down, his head hitting the bed. He’s thankful to be eloped in the warmth again, and his confusion passes with his dizzy spell. Opening his eyes, he quickly stands up to avoid falling asleep again. He throws on some clothes that Dean gave him, and runs his fingers through his hair as he walks down to the kitchen.

Leaving the bright hallway and looking into the dark kitchen, his eyes just look into the dark abyss. “Dean?” He asks, reaching for the light switch. “Sam?” When he flipped on the lights, he closed his eyes to let them adjust to the brightness. When he opened the again, Dean and Sam were on the other side of the room, smiling wide, with cones on their heads and balloons and a banner on the wall.

“Happy birthday Cas!” They said, holding up champagne glasses with an orange drink in them.

Cas looked around confused, and Dean smiled and walked up to him, patting him on the shoulder. “September 18th, the day we first met.” Dean cleared his throat and lowered his voice, “‘I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.’”

Castiel tilt his head and gave a small smile, “oh yeah, I remember. You stabbed me.”

Dean shift his footing, and looked to his feet. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

Smiling, the two boys made eye contact again. Sam cleared his throat and walked forward, “you said you were old as time, and that you don’t know how old you are, nor do you know your birthday.” Cas looked from Dean to Sam, who also put his hand on the humans back, “so we made an executive decision; today’s your birthday. We made pancakes with whipped cream, ignored all cases, and we’re gonna go into town. Forget all the monsters don’t exist for a day. Heaven, hell..”

“Today’s a relaxation day. Time to show you the finer things of being human, like good food, massages..” Dean says, licking his lips and turning around. “And, although it doesn’t have alcohol, I made orange drinks. It’s just Sprite and orange juice, but it’s still good. Coffee is heating up, but pancakes are getting cold. What do you say pal?” Grabbing a glass and handing it to Cas, he shoots him a killer smile. “You in?”

Castiel takes the champagne glass, and smiles at the two boys. “Of course.”

They cheered to their friend, gave him a matching party hat, and ate their pancakes. Dean kept making more, and putting on a show as he did so. Flipping the pancakes and cooking them golden brown. He winked at Cas as he flipped one right onto the ex-angels plate, and turned to make another for Sam.

Once they had finished, they got dressed and went into town. Sam had booked them massages, and they went to the lake and had beers and sandwiches while the sun shone off the dark blue water. While Dean was looking out oat the water, Sam nudged him and nod to Cas. When Dean looked at him, Cas had his eyes closed and his head was tilted up like a dog when sniffing the wind. A small smile was planted on his lips, as the breeze pushed and twist through his hair.

That night, they had beers and cake, and Dean made Cas birthday barbecue ribs, which Cas made an absolute mess of. He fell asleep on the couch while watching old western movies, and Dean carried him to bed.

He set Cas on the bed, and took off his shirt. Stirring awake, Dean helped Cas out of his jeans and under the covers. “Goodnight Dean,” Castiel said, as Dean began to leave the room.

Dean turned and looked at Cas, curled up in his blankets and eyes shut. He smiled at how peaceful Cas was, and reminisced over the events of the day. “Goodnight Cas, happy birthday.”

[destiel-and-cockles-writer]

I never loved you.

“Cas, please.” Dean begged. He was on his knees, and Castiel was standing above him. “Snap out of it, this isn’t you.”

Castiel looked down at Dean, his eye was black and his lip bleeding. Although, he was in much better shape then Dean, whose face was so bloody, it was almost unrecognizable. If it wasn’t for the bright green eyes, Cas would’ve had no trouble ending his dirty blonde boyfriend.

“I love you.”

Cas let his angel blade drop slightly, as he blinked at Dean. “I know, Dean.” He slowly moved down to his knees, and cupped the bleeding mans face, and smiled lightly at him. Dean let his head fall into Cas’ hands, and he closed his eyes. “That’s what’s so sad.”

Dean’s eyes snapped open, and he looked at the angel. “What?”

“You spent all this time, thinking I loved you back. No.” He dropped Dean’s head, who had to prop out his arms not to fall forward. “You were just convenient.” Cas stood up and circled around Dean, who didn’t put up much of a fight. Cas’ wounds have already healed themselves, but Dean’s bled with each pump of his heart.

“The truth is, Dean,” Cas said, coming up behind Dean and pulling his hair back. “I never loved you.”

He pushed the angel blade against Dean’s skin, and leaned into the younger mans ear. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Dean didn’t scream as Castiel killed him. He had his eyes closed.

Everything else in this world hated him. What was one more?

[destiel-and-cockles-writer]

I’m sorry

“You lied to me!”

Cas’s angel blade dropped into his hand, and Gabriel eyed it and held up his hands. “Come on Cassy, do we really have to fight?”

“You lied to me!” Cas swung at Gabriel, who quickly took a step back and dodged it. They were at the bunker, but Sam and Dean were out on a case. “You betrayed me!” Cas swung again, and Gabriel backed into a table and quickly moved out of it’s way. “They said you were dead!” Cas kept throwing his blade at Gabriel, who was dodging his brothers blows. “Everyone said you were dead!” He sliced Gabriel’s cheek, who held his face and backed up again. “But I thought, no, he can’t be dead. He can’t be!” Hitting Gabriel in the shoulder, Gabe was out of space to dodge. His back hit the wall, and he watched his brother hold the blade up to his throat.

“Cas, Cas listen-“

“Turns out I was right. You were alive all along, but you couldn’t even come give me the peace of mind. I prayed to you Gabriel! Why didn’t you come to me?” Cas’ voice broke, and he blade against his throat softened. “Why, you said you’d always come back for me but you.. you didn’t.”

Gabriel stayed silent, as Cas dropped the angel blade. A single tear fell down his face, as his gaze dropped from Gabriel. “I just wanted my big brother back. Why, why didn’t you come back?”

Gabriel’s face dropped, and he moved into Castiel’s line of sight. Tears were now streaming down his face, and his eyes were red and soggy with tears. “I’m sorry.”

Cas put a hand to his face to hide his tears, and Gabriel held his arms around Castiel. He fell into his big brother’s embrace, and Gabriel held him up as they shared their first hug, since they were fledglings. “I’m sorry.”

They just stood there, holding each other up.

“I’m sorry.”

[destiel-and-cockles-writer]

“Um.. Sam?”

“I swear to god if you say-“

“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”

“I’m not your brother anymore.”

The two whispered back and forth at each other, as they entered a door where they didn’t know where it led. They had painted a sigil on it they had found quickly scribbled in notebook in the bunker, but were unable to find its origin. Just a note next to it, “put it on a door”

So, not knowing what it could do, they did it.

“Where do you think we are?” Sam asked, shutting somebody’s front door behind them.

“I don’t know, let’s look around.” They began walking into the house, when the front door opened. They turned around, looking to see who it was.

“Jens, I’m home.” The voice called, as the door shut.

“Cas?” Both boys asked at the same time. Castiel was standing in the doorway, a bouquet of flowers in hand and his trench coat mysteriously gone. He was wearing a shirt that read “lust or bust”, with loose jeans.

“Oh, sorry, you’re running lines. I got these for you cause you mentioned yesterday on set was rough,” he held out his flowers, “I’ll just go put them in some water.” He said, giving Dean quick kiss on the lips. “What scene are you guys rehearsing?”

“Uh, hold on,” Dean said, smiling and turning to Sam, “what the hell’s going on?”

After stuttering for a second, Sam came up with an answer. “Remember when Balthazar pushed us into the world where we’re on a TV set?”

They both looked back to Misha, who was looking at them from two paces away. “I.. don’t remember that scene?”

“So you’re telling me I married, fake Cas?” Dean said, turning back to Misha.

“It’s Misha, in case you didn’t read the marriage form when you signed.” Misha said, smiling, trying to take an edge off the tension in the room.

“Yeah, sorry Misha, me and J..J-“

“Jared-“

“Jared, are gonna go.. run lines.. somewhere.. else..”

“Okay, are you gonna still be able to pick the moneys and bugs?”

“I’m sorry who?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at Misha.

“Are you okay? Listen, I can pick them up and take them to the park, maybe you should just go get some rest. What happened on set today?” Misha asked, looking at Sam now.

“Uh, just, long day.” Sam said, with a smile.

“Hey, uh, Misha,” Dean started, walking closer to him, “remember that one episode where, Sam and Dean were transported into the different universe? Our world?”

“Yeah, the one where I got killed, I remember that yeah. You kept making fun of me for my yell.” He smiled and tilt his head.

“Yeah, yeah you got killed, um, what would you do if that actually happened? Sam and Dean came into our world and replaced, me and Jared?”

Misha gave him a weird look, then let out an “ohhh.. you directed today didn’t you?”

“Yes I did and, man it was rough, anyway back to Sam and Dean, how would you react?” Dean asked, trying to keep this on track.

“Meeting Cas would be fun. I’d ask him to change his voice though, I swear I’m gonna get throat cancer.” Misha joked, his glance going between the two boys. “Jensen, Jared are you okay? Could you please not prank me outside of set.”

The boys watched as Misha visibly tensed, and they glossed over his question. “Mashi-“

“Misha.”

“Misha, focus on Sam and Dean, would you believe them, and what would you do?”

“Jens-“

“Humor me.”

Misha looked up at Jensen, sighed and looked at the ceiling. “Oh what would I do. Honestly?” Sam and Dean nod their heads, and Misha went back to thinking. “I guess I’d help them get back to their world, maybe join them? If we didn’t have the kids. I know you’d join them in a second. Saving people, hunting things, the family business.”

“Okay, and what if one day I came home, and I said that I was Dean. Like, really, Dean Winchester.”

“Well, first I’d ask what the hell he did with my husband,” Cas went to the kitchen, and started searching for a flower vase. “Then I’d help them get back to their world.”

“Would you believe me?” Dean asked, waiting for the answer.

Misha took a long look at Jensen, then to Jared. “I don’t know, why? Are you Dean Winchester?”

“Yes.”

The room went static.

“Then that makes you Sam?” Misha asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hi?”

Misha shook his head, then found a vase and filled it with water. “And why do I not believe you?”

“Because we just told you your husband isn’t really me?” Dean guessed, shrugging at Sam.

“Fine, prove it.” Misha said, walking up to Dean.

“What?”

“Yeah fuckers, and hurry. I’m supposed to pick the moneys and bugs up from their play date with Thomas.” Misha said, glancing around for his keys.

“Uh, would Jensen carry a knife?” Dean said, pulling out a blade.

“So you got that from set. Jared, did you steal Ruby’s blade too?” Misha asked, as Sam went to show him the blade with markings. “Oh god you did, guys, they tolerate you stealing the clothes from Sam and Dean, but now the props? The seasons not even over yet.”

“Oh my god, would he have a gun?” Dean said, pulling out his gun.

“A prop from set-“ Dean shot it at the wall, making Misha scream and almost fall back. “Jens! Come on, I know you’re from Texas and all, but in the fucking house?”

“Texas? Really?” Dean turned to look at Sam, who shrugged and looked to Misha. “Fine, believe us, don’t believe us, we need help getting back to our world. Can you help us?”

Misha sighed and robbed his head. “Yeah, sure, if it’ll stop you from shooting our wall again. What do you want me to do?”

“You got any lambs blood?”

Taking a short glance at Dean, he rolled his eyes, “Tom the butcher owes me a favor, what else?”

Dean and Sam took a quick and worried glance at each other. “Uh, uh it was,” sam cleared his throat, “DNA from a man with a thousand followers, and something from the world you’re trying to go to. How the hell are we gonna get the DNA here?”

Misha looked at them, squinting his eyes. “You guys are acting so weird, okay, I’ll give you a thing of hair when I come back from the butcher-“

“You have a thousand followers?” Dean called, as Misha grabbed his keys.

Smiling proudly, Misha answered. “I am so fucking close to three million,” he brags.

“Three,” Dean took a step back, “three million?”

“I know, I’ve got .4 million more than you. Maybe if you tweeted more you’d have more followers. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.” Misha kissed Dean once more, before leaving the house.

“I’ll find his computer,” Sam said, after a moment of silence.

“I’ll check the house.” Dean and Sam split up for an hour, before meeting back in the living room. “We’ve got.. a lot.. of pictures from on stage. Dude, we had a money. Apparently we’ve got a lot of kids too.”

“Yeah, this guy seems legit. He runs a charity called random acts, a national scavenger hunt that has over millions participating, he’s helped thousands of people-“

“So he’s not some dick celebrity. Rare to come across those.” Dean said, as a car door shut outside. “Looks like my husbands home.”

As the door opened, five children came running in, two of them yelling “daddy!” and running to hug Deans leg. “Hey hey kiddos,” he quickly said, looking down at them.

“J-bird, West, go upstairs and play with the other moneys and bugs.” Misha said, walking in with a brown bag in hand.

“I’m not a bug!” J-bird yelled, putting her hands on her tiny hips and laughing.

“You’re right, West is a bug, you’re a little monkey!” West and J-bird laughed and ran upstairs to play with Arrow, Maison, and Zeppelin. Misha smiled and watched them go, looking back to Sam and Dean. “Hey hon, I got your.. lambs blood.”

“Okay, where are your bowls?”

They made the potion, and rubbed a sigil on the door, saying the spell. Once Dean said the last word, Sam opened the door, and it led to the bunkers library. “Oh thank god it worked, that’s Misha, we’ll leave you alone for Jensen and Jared now.”

Turning around, Misha was struck dumb. His mouth was hanging open, as his closet turned into the bunkers war room. “I.. I owe you an apology.”

“No no, it’s fine, just, forget we were here. Pretend this was just a dream. Okay?” Dean said, as Sam walked through.

“How do I pretend this was a dream? How am I supposed to live with the fact that I am an angel in a separate reality, how do I-“ Misha stepped back quickly, as Dean swung to knock him out.

“How’d you-“

“That’s what Dean would do! Dean would knock me out and say it’s a dream!” Misha’s voice was getting higher and cracking. “Okay, okay, before Sam does something like shoot me with a tranq-“ (sam hid the gun) “I’m gonna go to sleep, wait for Jensen, and just.. Dean!” Before he could turn away, Misha grabbed his arm, “please, please just tell Cas not to talk so deep. And change his outfit. If I see it written in the script I promise you I’ll act like this never happened.”

“Deal.” Misha let him go, and waved awkwardly as they closed the door. Just like that, Jensen knocked on the front door. Later, in a few short episodes, the writers decided Cas was to become human and change his voice, and most importantly, his outfit.

[destiel-and-cockles-writer]

Help

“Cas, please, I’m begging you.” Dean was on his knees looking at the sky. “I need you, I’ve lost Sam, and I’m not asking for you to bring him back, I’m asking you to be here, just for right now.”

Falling forward, his head touched the cool floor, and he was careful not to touch the cooling pool of blood gently dripping from Sam’s body. There was a knife through his heart, but that wasn’t important now. Wings were scorched on the wall, and Dean’s hands were covered in angels blood. He had dropped the angel blade he had. If an angel was to come in, Dean would’ve let them kill him without a single complaint. If he was dead, maybe then Cas would visit him. Maybe then Cas would give a shit.

[destiel-and-cockles-writer]

Rollerblades

Prompt

(Sorry it took so long, i finally finished @supertrxsh!)

Dean sat in the booth, drinking his beer and listening to the eighties music that he blared over the speakers. “She’s my cherry pie, cool drink of water what a sweet surprise,” he mumbled along, reading a magazine while he watched over the rollerblading rink. Thinking that the last guests have come and gone (people rarely come with just under an hour left) he closes his magazine and begins to turn everything off, when a short man with dark black hair and pearly white skin walks on the rink. “Sweet cherry pie,” he said to himself, watching as he tied up his laces.

The man tightened the knot, and went out on the derby, doing a few slow laps. Dean watched as the man found his pace with the music, putting his next foot down and pushing along to the beat. Immediately looking for a faster song, he put on Carry On My Wayward Son and watched as the man looked up towards him for half a second, and skate freely for a moment, finding the pace.

Once he found it, he was rolling faster around the bends, showing off how fast he could go. After that song, Dean began to play Eye Of The Tiger, when the man went off the derby and wobbled up to him. “Hey man,” he said, his voice light and cracking. He was tired and breathing heavily, and Dean smiled to himself at the image, “can you play, like, anything by Jimmy Buffet?”

“What, Margaritaville better than Survivor?”

“Yes!” The man called, as he rolled off and back to the empty derby.

Dean laughed and shook his head, going to play light 70’s music. He watched the man as he found the beat to those songs quickly and effortlessly.

An hour of Busty Asian Beauties later, he flickered the lights, getting the man to slow down and look his way. “Closing time pal,” he said over the mic, cutting off the music.

“Alright, thanks!”

“Thank you for rolling at Rolling Derby, we hope to see you again,” he threw out, as the tall raven rolled off the derby. The turned off the lights, and walked up to the door to watch him walk out, along with Bobby, the guy at the front desk. He locked the doors and turned off the lights, before heading home himself.

The man slowly became a regular, someone Dean looked forward to seeing. He would come up and request some crappy soft hippy crap from the 60’s, but Dean soon enough found out the songs that the man genuinely liked. On week two, Dean made a playlist. On week three on the other hand, is when he started watching him.

On the Monday of the third week, he watched as the man recognized the songs being replayed. “Did you make me a playlist?” He yelled, once the song ‘tired of being alone’ finished.

“What? No,” the man crossed his arms and looked up at the darkened booth, “shut up.” The mic cut off as the next song played, and the man resumed his rollerblading.

On the Tuesday of the third week, Dean waited until the man got use to the track, to start blaring ‘heat of the moment’, almost making the man fall. “You asshole!”

“Dude, this is an old fashion derby. I can’t just play your bubbly 70’s crap.”

He quickly changed the song back to what the regular liked.

On Wednesday, Dean turned on the mic after another song, that was starting to grow on him. “Hey gingerbread, where’s you learn to move like that?” He asked, playing with his pen.

“Why don’t you come down here and talk to me like a civilized human being?” The man called back, quickly moving to a stop.

“Jokes on you short-stop, cause I’m not civilized!” The man was about to say something, but the next song came on, and he just started dancing and skating again.

On Thursday, Dean started playing the man’s music at seven o’clock, as always, but when he looked up from the magazine, he saw that he wasn’t skating. He was standing in the middle fo the derby, staring at the booth, his arms crossed. Dean turned down the music, so the man could talk. “Come down here and skate!”

Turning on the mic, he thought of something to say. Instead, he turned it off and cut the music. The man watched, as Dean walked down the stairs and leaned against his booth, crossing his arms. “I can’t.”

“Why not, too much of a chicken?” The man put his arms by his side and started clucking like a chicken, making Dean quickly stop him.

“No no it’s not,” he huffed, “it’s not that. It’s just,” he awkwardly moved his hands. “I can’t skate.”

The man looked at him, and let out a laugh, “you, you can’t skate? You work at a derby-“

“You see me cleaning any floors?” Dean asked, cutting the man off.

He skated over to Dean, placing his wheels on the soft carpet. “Castiel.” He held out his hand for Dean.

“Dean.”

They shook hand, and gave friendly smiles. “You know, I could teach you how to skate. It’d be fun! Free of charge.”

“Or, I could just get Bobby to stop charging you for tickets.”

“Free entry for rollerblading lessons, sounds fair to me. So, we got a deal?” Dean looked down at Castiel’s outstretched hand.

“Sure,” he took it, “you can teach me how to skate, but I’m picking the music.”

[destiel-and-cockles-writer]

(Og story that I’ve lost the will to finish, hoping this will help spark my creativity again. Tell me what you think!)

The Assassin And The Memory

“What a pity,” April said, circling the man laying on the ground. He was bloody and handcuffed, writhing under the woman’s gaze.

“Let him go, April!” Ben sobbed from the side, handcuffed and trying to escape the guards grasp as April tortured his dying partner. “Please, please let him go. Take me instea-“

“Silence him.” She rolled her eyes and looked at her long and deep red nails. He was instantly gagged, and didn’t speak anymore.

“You were- you are a good guy. You are one of us. We were gonna save people, we trained you, we are your family!”

“Were my family. You ripped me from my home, I was going to become a doctor. You didn’t train me, you made me learn your ways. Made me into who I am, and now you want me to what, thank you? Let you go? You made me an assassin, you raised me like a killer!” Kicking him in the gut, she began to raise her voice again. Before her voice could reach a climax, it went quiet. She kneeled down in front of him, and gently lift his head, as it laid on the ground. They made eye contact, and her voice dropped down to a soft whisper. “I’m just taking your knowledge, and choosing the winning side.”

Throwing down his head, he groaned as it hit the cold and bloody tile. “You could’ve been a king!” Once again, her voice was loud and booming, so demanding and threatening that even the guards jumped at it. She looked down at him, as he squirmed on the floor, holding his gut tightly. “It’s a pity you chose this path instead. Evan, you can still come to my side, just like I did. We will heal you, help you, bow down to me, and then you will become everything you could ever dream about. We could watch the world burn together.” Her voice and eyes showed sympathy, as she kneeled down to lay a hand on his arm.

Evan looked over at Ben, who was now on his knees with two men holding his arms behind him. He pushed himself up, quickly gaining a helping arm from April. Together, the two stood up on their feet, and Evan looked at her. She raised her head and smiled.

“I shall not bow, to a queen who wears a crown, studded with-“ she struck him back to the floor, but he continued and raised his voice to a yell, “studded with jewels for every life she has ended!”

“You speak to me not of lives, for the amount of blood on my hands is but a spit compared to you. You bathe in the blood of thousands, while I only reek of hundreds.” Her words were slow and chosen carefully, as she wiped her helping hand on her shirt, as if to show their bond was no more.

Reaching for her waistband, she pulled out a dagger. It was small and clean, as if it was new. That blade could tell so many stories, from the day it was a gift, to the days it took lives, when she fought beside the boys instead of against them.

“You still have my dagger?” Evan asked, quickly identifying it.

She pulled out a small cloth and wiped away imaginary dirt from the knife. “I thought it fitting. When I heard of your capture, I just had to polish this bad boy off.”

“My first knife..” Evan whispered, as April put away the cloth.

“And your last one,” April said, in an equally low voice. “I tried with you Evan. And I’m gonna finish the job that the one bone-head couldn’t seven years ago. Last words?” She raised the dagger, and held it over Evan’s head. He looked at Ben, and gave a small smile and nod, showing it was okay.

“I was tired anyway.”

Ben shook his head, silently begging Evan not to just give up. April bite her lip, as Evan looked back up at her.

“Goodbye, Evan.”

[destiel-and-cockles-writer]

Biscuits in bed

Prompt @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl (thanks for letting me use the shitpost as a prompt XD)

“But Dean-“

“Cas, please, I swear to god if you ask that again I will stab you.” Dean walked into Cas’ room, holding a tray of food and wishing he had some kind of face mask. “Listen, you’re sick, so I made you breakfast in bed.”

“No, I get the breakfast in bed,” Cas smiled as Dean set a tray in front of him, picking up the silverware. His hair was a mess, and his voice was rougher than usual. Red splotches were covering his nose, and tissues littered the floor. This was the first time Cas was sick while being human, and he hated it. The only good thing about it was that Dean put aside everything else to take care of him. Sam went on hunts alone, while Dean stayed home and took care of his boyfriend.

“I made you pancakes, bacon, and the biscuit will be out in a minute.” Cas tried to talk, but Dean held up a finger, “ah ah, I’m making you a freaking biscuit.”

Cas shook his head, coughing to the side. “I don’t understand, is it a human thing?” An AC/DC shirt covered his shoulders, one that was donated by Dean, and he was wearing only his blue plaid boxers under the covers.

“Yes, Cas, it’s a human thing, now please respect that and eat your food.” Cas began cutting his food, just like Dean had taught him.

“Tell me this,” holding up a finger to stop Dean’s interruption, “just tell me this,” Dean closed his mouth and waited for Cas to ask his question. “Why does a biscuit make it breakfast?”

“Because Cas! Biscuits are the next best thing to bacon. It’s, like, number two on things that need to be on your breakfast plate. Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold you dumbass.”

Dean stood up and walked over to Cas, kissing his forehead and running his hand through his messy hair, before walking out of the sickness-infested room to get Cas his biscuit.

[destiel-and-cockles-writer]

Lying

“I love you!” Cas yelled out, as Dean turned his back. He looked at Micheal, in his bleeding vessel against the wall.

Dean slowly turned to meet his gaze, gently shaking his head.

He knew this was a last call of a desperate man, he knew Castiel didn’t love him. Castiel was just saying it, he would never love someone as messed up and self pitying as him.

Castiel knew Dean wouldn’t believe him. He would go through his thoughts, he heard how much he hates himself, and thinks down about himself. He would never let Castiel into his life, no matter how true his words really were. To Dean, they heald no meaning.

Looking back to Micheal, Dean spoke his last words to Castiel. “Lying isn’t a good look for you.”

[destiel-and-cockles-writer]

That’s enough.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Castiel said. He held Dean’s face carefully, kneeling down to the bleeding mortal in front of him, “you’re doing beautifully and I’m so proud of you. But that’s enough now.” Dean pulled his head away with the little strength he had.

“It was cruel of them to make you fight me- you could never have won. It’s not your fault.”

“Cas, please, this isn’t you.”

“Sh sh, it’s time to go to sleep now. Time to rest. You’re work here is done, sleep, Dean.” Castiel put his hand on Deans forehead, making him slowly more drowsy. “It’s not your fault, they shouldn’t have sent you here.”

Dean watched Cas, as his eyes slowly got heavy. He finally closed them, as Castiel kneeled over him. Eventually giving in, he fell asleep to Castiel’s light words, “that’s enough, it’s okay.”

[destiel-and-cockles-writer]

Slow

Castiel is always slow around Dean. Whenever he is hurt on a hunt, Cas will slowly bring his fingers to the younger man’s head to heal him. If they ever need to move somewhere, Cas will slowly move his hand to Deans head. When Dean is rubbing his head with a bottle of liquor beside him, Cas will slowly let his hand rest on the tired man’s shoulders, and Dean would look up, and Cas would slowly nod to show him it was okay.

Castiel is always slow around Dean. Whenever he is sitting down, he is slow to walk closer to him if he needs support. If he is moving across the room, he is slow when walking towards Dean. When Dean is laying in bed, Cas is slow to move to the other side of him, to watch over him as he sleeps.

Castiel was always slow around Dean, because if he wasn’t, Dean might snap. All those times he touched Dean too fast, and he jerked away. The moments when he paced quickly, and Dean jumped from him. The times he was awoken by Cas’ quick footing, and he woke up to a shadowed figure at the end of his bed.

So Castiel was always slow. In case Dean ever wanted to pull away. In case he didn’t feel safe. Castiel was always slow, so he would not break Dean.

The first time they kissed was just as slow as any other movement. Castiel started to lean in slowly. In case Dean wanted to pull away.

He didn’t.

Castiel slowly pressed his lips against Dean. In case Dean didn’t feel safe.

He didn’t.

Dean was grateful for Cas’ slow movements, and in return he slowly pushed against the kiss.

Castiel and Dean made love that night, just as slow as every other movement. Both being careful not to break the other, but both breaking in the end.

Castiel was always slow around Dean. While everything else moved fast, they were each other’s anchors.

[destiel-and-cockles-writer]

Cupid and Kisses pt.2 (pt.1)

those who asked for a part two: @bbotts9797 , @mcgenjiskid , @supertrxsh , @zarauthforsaken

“Night Cas,” Dean whispered into the dark room, as he shut the door. Cas was tucked in nicely in his bed, and Dean had taken off Cas’ sweater and shirt so he could sleep better. He left his pants alone, and went to the kitchen. Laughing to himself about the headache Cas will have tomorrow, he went to the garage and grabbed a bucket and cleaning spray.

When Sam came out with his gun and asked what he was doing, Dean answered easily. “Dude got hammered,” he held up the bucket, “he’s gonna get sick. Just making a preemptive move.”

“Alright, get to sleep though.” Sam said, yawning and going back to his room. Dean left the stuff outside of Cas room, and went to his across the hall. He left the door open, so when he woke up to the sounds of Cas throwing up, he was quickly able to get to him. Once he heard Cas, he immediately grabbed the bucket and dashing in the room, Cas looked up at him in shock. “I think somebody poisoned me,” he said.

Cas was on the ground on his hands and knees, leaning over a pile of vomit. “Nah, that’s just the after effects of being drunk, here.” Handing Cas the bucket, he helped him walk to the bathroom. Cas threw up only once on the way there, getting most of it in the bucket. When he reached the bathroom, he once more threw up in the toilet, as Dean washed the bucket in the tub.

“Why isn’t this happening to you?” Cas asked, leaning against the wall.

Dean laughed, putting the bucket on the ground. “Cause I’ve been doing this for years. I’ve had my lesser moments,” he explains, sitting beside Cas. “And I’ve been there for Sam. I told him to come home on his twenty first birthday, and just me and him would go out and get drinks. The first time he got drunk, I had to carry him home.”

Cas grinned, rolling his head to face Dean. “Sounds like you two had a night.”

“Heh, that’s one word for it.”

Cas listened intently as Dean explained the first time Sam got drunk. “He almost threw up again when he drank the hangover cure I made for him. I had to push him over to the sink so he’d make it.”

Dean felt a weight on his shoulder, and looked over to see Cas sleeping on his shoulder. Somewhere in the story he must’ve hit his crash.

Smiling down at him, Dean carefully moved to stand up. When he did, he picked up Cas, leaning him into his chest, and walked to his bed room. Covering him back up, he went for a rag to clean up the vomit.

Upon return, he saw Cas with his eyes open, watching his fan spin. “Hey Cas,” Dean whispered, “what are you doing awake?”

“My head, it’s pounding.” He respond, watching Dean while laying down.

“Just try to fall back to sleep Cas, I’ll help you when the sun rises.” He says, finishing up with the vomit and spraying the floor clean.

“I’m sorry about the floor.” Cas said, turning to his side.

“No harm, no foul, see? Already clean. I’ll get you some water.”

When he returned with washed hands and a glass of water, Cas was sitting up like a child waiting for his mommy. “Here, don’t drink it too fast or you’ll throw up again.”

Cas did as he was told, drinking the water in tiny sips. Dean sat beside him, making sure he didn’t throw up again, and he took the glass away from Cas when he was done. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Course man, it was fun while it lasted though.” Dean said, smiling at him.

Leaning his head back, Cas smiled at the ceiling. “Yeah, I guess it was.”

“Listen, we’ll make sure you get more.. accustomed to alcohol.” Dean pat Cas leg and stood up. “Try to get some sleep, I’ll see you-“

“Dean?”

He turned around and met Cas eyes. “Yeah, whats up?”

“I’m sorry, about what I said, assuming you were gay and all that.” Cas said, beginning to lean back in bed.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, just focus on getting back to sleep.” Dean said, getting ready to close the door.

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas said, coving himself up. Dean smiled and almost shut the door again. “Wait,” Dean looked back in at Cas, “can you keep it open? Please. I don’t enjoy the solitude.”

“Course,” Dean opened his door all the way, then walked across the hall to his room, where he kept the door cracked in case Cas needed anything else. He was quick to fall asleep.

He woke up to the smell of burning pancakes, and walked out to Sam in the kitchen trying to cook. “Sam?” He asked, morning dripping in his voice.

“Yes?” Sam asked, the way you’d say that to your mother when you were caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

“What are you doing?”

Sam looked from the bowl of pancake mix, to the burning pan in his hand, with doughy, undercooked pancakes and pancakes that have blackened to a crisp. “M-making breakfast?”

Dean sighed, taking the pan from his hand. “Thank you, Sam.” He said, setting it on a not-hot burner. He turned off the stove, the looked up at his brother. “Has no one ever taught you to cook?”

“Dude, dad never taught us how to cook, and when I went to college I lived off of ramen noodles and fun-ions.” Sam said, walking to the sink to wash off his hands.

Dean cocked his head, then went to the stove. “You gotta slowly wait for this to heat up, or else.. well, that.” He point to the burnt pancakes. “Alright, I’ll clean up here,”

“I’ll go buy some breakfast from somewhere.” Sam said, already moving to get the keys to the impala.

“Grab some more Asprin while you’re out,” Dean called, putting the pan in the sink.

“Will do.” Sam shut the door, and went out into town.

Washing pans and cleaning the bowls is what Dean busied himself with, until he herd a shuffling behind him. “Why is it so bright?”

He started laughing, and turned around to grab a towel for his hands. Dean turned off the lights, and Cas sat down and began to rub his head. “Is it always like this?”

“Only when you’re a lightweight, here.” He handed Cas a mostly empty bottle of asprin.

“How many should I take?”

“Two, any more you could seriously hurt yourself. There’s only two left anyway, you can finish the bottle. I sent Sam out to get more. He’ll be back with breakfast in a little bit, give or take an hour, maybe two depending on how many people are in the diner.”

Cas nod, taking the pills and laying his head in crossed arms like a teenager. Dean smiled at him, finishing the dishes. Once the last plate was put away, he began searching for his sunglasses, setting them next to a sleeping Castiel once he found them. He began cleaning the bunker’s kitchen, being as quiet as he can as he cleaned the rusty sinks, making a mental list of things he needs to buy for the pipes.

After a while of listening to Cas’ snores and cleaning the fridge, he heard the bunker door open. He used his rag to dry his hands, as he walked out to meet Sam.

“Hey man, be quiet, Cas fell asleep in the kitchen. Been out for a while.” He took the bag with the food in it from Sam turning back to the kitchen.

“Oh Dean,” sam said, not moving from the bottom of the stairs.

Dean turned around to meet his gaze, “yeah, whats up?” He only whispered this, for fear of being too loud.

“I didn’t get you pie, they only had cake.”

“That’s fine, I’m down for cake.”

“What?”

Dean was almost moving again, when Sam was obviously getting mad. “What?”

“Since when are you ever okay with me getting cake instead of pie?”

Shrugging, Dean shook his head. “I don’t know, cake, pie, same difference.”

Sam raised his eyebrow, and let out a chuckle. “Dean, what happened out there? With the Cupid. You didn’t even try to call me.”

“Cause we had to hurry, and I had to drive a motorcycle. Can’t really call on one of those!” He said, leaning against the desk. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“You’ve been acting weird all day, taking care of Cas like he’s some lost puppy!” Sam accused, gesturing towards the kitchen.

“Because he’s hungover for the first time while being human! I did the same for you when you first got hammered!”

“You didn’t crack your door open to make sure I was okay during the middle of the night!”

The words made Dean freeze in his movement, as he stared at Sam. “Why is it such a huge issue for you?”

“I’m just saying Dean! You’ve been acting weird with him since you got back from the hunt! What happened out there?”

“It was a Cupid, he was attacking single people, I just made a small diversion so he couldn’t hit us.” Dean said, setting down his bag and crossing his arms.

“Then why did you take him out for drinks after? Why are you taking such good care of him?”

Dean point a finger at Sam and raised his eyebrows. “I don’t need this,” he said, trying to act bigger than his brother.

“Listen Dean, I don’t know whats going on with you, but I’m just trying to let you know I’m not trying to get in the way of you and Cas, I honestly could care less if you-“

Dean groaned, picking up the bag again and walking away. Sam hurried to catch up. “Listen to me Dean! If you like Cas, you need to go for it, don’t think I’m gonna be mad at you!”

“What about you, huh? You wanna talk about this now? Since when do you have a crush on somebody? Don’t try to talk about this with me if you can’t take your own words.”

Sam straightened his back, twitching his head to the side. “Who told you that?”

“I read your diary- Cas told me. He said when he was angel he could sense it.” Dean shook his head. “Great, now I’m a twelve year old girl.”

He stormed off, quietly entering the kitchen again. He began unloading the food, and putting it on three separate plates. Taking out cups, he poured water for the group. Sam finally stepped in, taking his plate and completely ignoring the water, moving to the fridge to grab a beer.

Leaving quickly for the library, Sam ate his breakfast while reading the first book he found in the library.

The smell of bacon and eggs woke Cas up soon, looking up at the dimmed kitchen. “Mornin’ sunshine,” Dean said, in a low voice. “Sam got breakfast, eat up.” He placed the fresh cup of water, and still hot eggs and bacon in front of Cas.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“No problem, put on the sunglasses. They’ll help.”

Cas did as he was told, as the boys ate their food in silence. “Thanks for last night, the headache is dulling, and looking back on it, it was pretty fun.”

Dean chuckled, picking up his empty dish. “I thought it was fun too.”

The two looked at each other, and Cas took off his glasses to get a better look at Dean. “Hey, Cas, maybe, if you wanna, we can-“

“Guys!” Sam burst in the room, carrying his duffel bag. “It’s Jody, she called saying she’s got a werewolf issue. She needs backup.”

In a heartbeat, they were out of their chairs and all three rushing to the door and into the impala. You could cut the tension between Sam and Dean with a knife, and Cas rubbed his head in the backseat the whole time.

They finished the hunt, and now the only difference in tension between the brothers was that Cas wasn’t hung over, and obviously knowing something’s up. He didn’t know what to do, so he sighed and fell asleep in the backseat. They were driving along the mountain side, with thousands of feet below them as they twist and turned their way home.

“Dean-“

“Save it Sammy.”

“Pull over.”

Dean looked over at Sam, then to the back mirror at Cas as he carefully moved off the road. They got out of the car, and walked away so Cas couldn’t hear them. “Whats been up with you man? And don’t give me any of that I’m fine crap cause you’re not Dean! I’ve never seen you act this way to someone, and I don’t know if it’s because you like him or you hate him, but I’m done with you acting coy like that.”

Dean went to the edge of the road, and looked over the ledge. “Listen man,” Sam said, lowering his voice to a calm talk instead of yelling, “just tell me what’s going on.”

“No, because it’s stupid, Sam! I’m not gonna let you baby me over what you think is true!” Dean shout, turning to face Sam. “It’s not your business!”

“You make it my business when we start yelling at each other about it! What’s the big deal if you just ask him out-“

“Cause I don’t wanna loose him, Sam! Every person I’ve ever cared about has died. He couldn’t even stay alive when he was an angel! I’m trying to do everything it takes to that he’ll live a long life as a human, and if that means I stay in my place, so be it.” Dean was furious, and staring daggers at Sam. “What?” He yelled, when Sam didn’t respond.

“I just, I didn’t know how into this you really were.”

“Why do you think I wanna get out of the life so bad, huh Sam? Dropping so many hints about retiring on a beach. Cause you know what people get out of this life, Sam? They get dead! I dragged you into this life, and I’ve felt responsible for everything ever since. And Cas? He was bred into this life. Born only for this life, and I want to show him something beyond hunting, only worrying about heaven and hell when you’re ninty something, and only worrying about the monsters under your child’s bed, when it’s night and they’re five!” Dean ran his fingers through his hair, and tossed Sam the keys. “I can’t drive.”

Dean angerly went into the passenger seat, shutting the door and waking Cas up. “Where are we?” He asked, quickly looking around. It broke Dean’s heart that someone can’t even rub their eyes and wake up before asking it they were in danger.

“Sam stopped to take a wiz,” he answered, “just go back to sleep.”

Cas looked at Dean as he turned around and gave a smile. He leaned against the window again, and shut his eyes. Sam came in, and Dean just leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

“Dude, wake up.” Sam was hitting Dean’s leg and quickly pulling over.

“What, what?” He asked, sitting upright immediately.

“It’s Cas, for whatever reason he’s yelling your name, I think he’s having a nightmare.”

“Why should I care?” Dean asked, turning to face Cas. Sam didn’t answer, and unlocked Dean’s door. He opened it, and went around the car to where Cas was sitting. His head was lolling against the car seat, and he was whining and partially screaming Dean’s name. “Hey, hey Cas what’s wrong? It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s just a drea-“

He was cut off by Cas’ hands around his throat. Sam was watching from the mirror, as Cas quickly let go. “Dean, you’re alive!” Instead of grabbing onto his neck again, he grabbed onto his face, and plant a hard kiss on his lips.

(Wow am I really gonna have to make a part three because of a word limit? ;-; Also are people still reading this? Do people read part twos to things? Guess we’ll find out. Comment and let me know if you wanna be tagged if I make a part three)

[destiel-and-cockles-writer]

The Storyteller

“Excuse me mister?” A little boy asked. He couldn’t be more than four, with scruffy brown on the top of his head.

Castiel turned around, as he felt a tug on his trench coat. “Yes?” He asked, and Dean looked down at the little boy as well.

“How did you make your wings so big?” He asked, pointing to the empty air beside Castiel’s arm. They were at a playground, discussing if this was a good area to buy a house and raise a family.

“My wings?” He asked, quickly looking at Dean for an answer.

“Yeah, they’re really cool mister.”

“Timothy! Timothy Arther Ash, why are you bothering this nice man?” The woman who was probably the kids mom ran up, holding a bag and a phone in her hand.

“No no, ma’am,” Dean said, stepping in front of Cas and kneeling down by the kid. “Your name is Timothy?”

The kid smiled and nod, as his mother took his hand.

“Well you see Timothy, he husband here is an angel. He watches over all the little kids while they sleep, to protect them from the bad guys.” Dean said, and Castiel’s eyes widened.

“Dean-“

He raised his hand to cut him off, watching the boy’s mouth drop open. “Who are the bad guys?”

“The boogeyman!” Dean said, tickling the kids stomach. He started laughing and backed away.

“You’re gonna save us from the boogyman mister?” He asked, looking up at Castiel.

Dean looked at Cas, smiled and nod. “Uh yes,” he said, giving a warm smile.

The mom was smiling at the couple, and Dean looked up at her. “Quite the imagination your kid has, don’t worry, he’s not a bother.” She nod, whispered a thank you, and walked away to continue talking on her phone.

“Can, can I touch your wings?” Timothy asked, reaching up carefully.

“Of course.” Dean lift the kid up, and he began grabbing at thin air. He looked over at his husband, who was twitching slightly when the kid grabbed down.

“Don’t grab too hard, it’ll hurt the angel.” Dean said, and the kid looked down at Cas.

“I’m sorry mister, I didn’t mean to..”

“It’s okay.” Looking at Dean, he looked scared and worried.

“I figured this out when I’m working cases with small kids, it was in a lore that I read,” Dean started talking to Cas, quietly enough that the kid couldn’t hear. He was more focused on the feathers moving between his fingers. “Little kids, mostly five and under, they’re minds are more open to the supernatural. So that’s why they can see ghosts and demons. Once they grow up, they can’t see it anymore. So don’t worry if a kid here and there can see.”

Castiel nod, looking at the little kids hands. Only him and Cas could see the wings and halo above his head, and only him and Cas could feel the soft nothing under his tiny fingers. “Thank you mister,” the kid said, and Dean put him down.

“Of course,” Cas was now smiling at the optimism in the little kids eyes.

“What is it like being an angel?” He asked.

Cas sighed and kneeled down, looking up. “It’s tiring. I try to protect all these little kids, fighting off the bad guys.”

“Can you tell me a story?” He asked.

Smiling, Cas sat down on the grass. Dean and Timothy sat as well, and Cas began telling his story.

“And then, all the sudden, there was a demon! Right behind me! He attacked me, threatening me to come with him, or else!” Cas had gained a crowd, and he was telling a story to the little kids and parents.

“Wow! You’re a real angel!”

“Yeah, look at his wings!”

The parents smiled down at their kids, and the man who was telling them a story. They couldn’t see the wings, and their kids were laughing and enjoying the story, so the parents could care less about the story being told.

Once he finished his story, the kids and parents clapped for him. Children grabbed their mothers and fathers hands, as they led the little ones to the cars. “Thank you mister! What’s your name?”

“Castiel.” Dean smiled, as Cas answered.

When the crowd finally dispersed, a father and his little girl came up to them. The man was white, and seemed to be in his thirties, although the child was a dark black, making it obvious she wasn’t biologically his. Cas remembered seeing her in the crowd when he was telling his story. “Thank you,” the man said, “for entertaining them. I thought she had lost her creativity,” the father looked down at his little angel, “but just the fact that she can make up wings in her mind, that means a lot. Are you a storyteller?”

“No sir, we’re thinking on buying a house here. We were checking out the area,” Castiel answered, as the couple stood up and took each other’s hands.

“Oh! Well I’ve been here only a week to visit my mother, bless her heart, she’s too frail to go anywhere. But this community is amazing, very accepting from what I’ve seen so far.” He gestured to his black daughter. “Her name is Diamond, We adopted her, and where we’re from, not many people take kindly to a black child in a white persons family. They say we can’t take care of her.”

“Well I’m sorry, I-“

“Why is that?” Cas cut Dean off, squeezing his hand lightly.

The man hesitate, “well, for the most part, the doctors say there’s something wrong with her. They have no idea what it is. It’s something in her head that makes her think she knows strangers. It’s scary, cause theres a good chance somebody will be able to just take her into their car and she’ll have no trouble.”

Cas smiled, and looked down at her. “It’s called Fregoli Syndrome. It’s extremely rare, and hard to stop.”

Dean knew exactly what Cas was doing, and let go of his hand. The little girl was looking up at him, and began smiling when he held up two fingers. “What are you-“

“Hey,” Dean interrupt. “It was part of the story he told, don’t worry about it.” He gave the man a warm smile, who looked back down at his daughter.

“Can you see that?” Castiel asked the girl.

“Yeah, it’s pretty!” She said, reaching out to touch his fingers.

“Whoa whoa whoa, be careful. Put your hands down.” The girl did as she was told, and Cas began moving his fingers to her forehead. “There you are.”

The girl’s eyes shut, and she then looked up at Castiel. “That was awesome!” She said, jumping up and down. When she began looking around and laughing, Dean knew Cas was tickling her with his wings.

“Sir,” Cas said, standing back up, “I would invite you to stop giving her the medication the doctors are giving you, and go back to the doctors. The sooner the better.”

“Nice meeting you,” Dean said, taking Cas hand and turning him around.

“What did you do?” The man asked them, making Cas stop and turn around.

“I healed her,” he said, and began walking again.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Castiel,” he threw over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I know that much, I mean what are you?”

Cas smiled at Dean, then turned around again to face the man. “I’m an angel.” After some silence Cas repeat, “today you should go get her checked out. I hope you enjoy your stay here.”

Dean and Cas began walking again, hand in hand. “That was really nice Cas,” Dean said, admiring the trees.

“Thank you Dean, we were never supposed to try to wipe out the human race, we were supposed to help them and lead them. Like you have led me.”

______________________________

“And then, whoosh! A swarm of angels came and attacked the bad guy! Sending him back to where he came from!” Cas said, rocking in his chair. He had picked up a job at the local library, telling the children stories. He has become the talk of the town, the man who tells stories to kids, the man who brings creativity to kids lives, the man who may be an angel in real life.

The kids awed and ooed at the angels stories, watching as his wings spread and closed at different points of the story.

“How did you get out alive Castiel?” One little girl asked.

“I zapped the bad guy!” He said, jumping forward slightly to make the kids jump. They began laughing, waiting for the next part of the story.

Babies stopped their crying, and children couldn’t take their eyes off him. The story alone would take out more energy from them then running around the park for hours. Children began coming up with their own stories, telling their parents and siblings. Parents were ever greatful that their children could go up the street, and come back and fall asleep with the biggest grin on their faces.

Every now and again, when Castiel found a child with something the doctors can’t or won’t treat, he will quietly heal them, urging the parents to stop giving their kids the drugs and go back to the doctor. He’s gotten many questions about it, but he shrugs them off. “Must be whatever is in the stories!” He’ll wink and leave.

It’s become a story among the parents, the man who tells the stories may heal your child. So when a parent does notice their children’s healing, they don’t ask questions. They just smile and whisper a thank you through tears, and take their healthy child home.

As the kids grow up and move out, they always remember him. Relaying the stories to their children.

One day, when Castiel was walking on the street with his husband, still young and youthful even after years of stories, a black woman approached him. “Hello,” she said, stopping him in his tracks.

“Hello.” The bowed his head and smiled, Dean offered a “hey,” and gave a small wave.

“Are you Castiel?” She asked, rubbing her neck. She could very easily be wrong, but she told herself she would never forget his face. To everyone’s amusement, she never did.

“Yes I am,” he started chuckling, and her heart fluttered.

“Do,” she started tearing up, “do you remember, the first story you’ve ever told?”

“Of course, I was in a park and,” he stopped, looking at the girl about to break in front of him. “Diamond.” He was certain of himself, watching the girl finally snap.

“Yes,” she smiled and nod, tears now streaming down her face. “My father always told me about you, I could never forget your face. He told me, I had an illness, something that might have killed me but you,” she shook her head, and Cas let go of Deans hand and opened his arms.

She ran and fell into his embrace, hugging him tightly. “Yes, I remember. But I didn’t do much, I just removed it from your brain.”

“How did you,” she sucked in air, sobbing at this point. Dean walked over and began rubbing her back, smiling lightly at her. “How did you do that?”

Cas rubbed her neck, holding her close to him. “Do you remember the story? How I was an angel?”

She dug her head into his trench coat, taking in a big breath of the smell of old books and faded liquor. “Yes, I wouldn’t forget it.”

“It was true,” he confessed.

She pulled back, wiping tears off her face. “But, how is that possible? You don’t have your wings, I was imagining them.”

He grabbed her shoulders, making himself seem small and less intimidating. “You were not. Only special children can see them, once you hit five and up, your mind is less-susceptible to the supernatural, so it fades out. Left as childish wonder.” He smiles at her, and she smiles back.

“I don’t know if you’re just telling a story, or if you’re telling the truth.”

Thinking of something to say, Cas decides against all the words he could tell her. Instead, he simply winks at her, and she lets go of a breath, that comes out as a chuckle. “Thank you.”

[destiel-and-cockles-writer]

First Kiss

Dean had imagined his and Cas’ first kiss forever now. Probably to the point where it was unhealthy. And now that Cas was human, it fueled even more thoughts and fantasies.

Sometimes, he liked the thought of them being in battle, and they had just thought they’d loose each other. They would share a heated kiss, and Sam would be smiling, breathing heavy against a wall.

Other times, maybe they’d be watching a movie and a kissing scene would come on. The hero gently leans in to kiss the girl, and fireworks would go off. He would get Cas’ attention, then pull him in for a soft kiss, and Sam would get up and leave the room smiling.

Maybe, if Sam found him desperate enough, he would push Dean into Cas, and he would give a nervous chuckle, before Cas would kiss him.

Never in a million years, would he expect it to be like this.

“One, two, three, come on buddy.”

Pressing his lips against Cas’ cold ones. His hands over Cas’ still chest.

“Dean, Dean we have to go.”

“One, two, three,”

Another kiss followed, this one wet and salty. Deans tears streamed down his face, as Sam grabbed his hand. “Dean!”

He whipped around, facing his brother towering over him. “We’ll come back for him later, we have to go now.”

Sam helped Dean to his feet, and pulled him along.

——

Maybe, Cas would be the first to kiss him. He would be doing research, and Cas would be walking past, and place a gentle kiss on his neck.

Or even, they would be in a fight. Cas would push him against the wall and kiss him rough. They would stop their arguing, and make out wherever they were.

They could be on a hunt, and somehow have to go as an undercover couple.

“Dean?”

He would stutter something, having to think fast. “We’re a couple.” He’d tell the person.

“Dean please talk to me,”

Having to grab Cas’ hand, they’d be in their soft outfits. Maybe talking to a nice old lady, or a happy couple.

“Please, it’s been three weeks, at least move from your bed. Give me a sign you’re even alive! Stop staring at the wall like you can’t hear me!”

Him and Cas would constantly have to play couple, and Cas would kiss him on the cheek. They’d go back to their motel, and finish the kiss there.

“Dean, please, it’s Sam, remember me? Dean I know it’s tough without C-“

They might have bought a house on the beach. Just him and Cas, drinking beers and fishing. Getting out of the life.

“But I need you here, please Dean, wake up from whatever coma you’ve put yourself in.”

Dean had imagined his and Cas’ first kiss forever now. Probably to the point where it was unhealthy.