#(though it is also true for Dean and Hell too. just less significant of a difference imo. but like. there is soooo much Sam doesn't know)

[suncaptor]

It is actually kind of insane that Dean probably knows an incredible amount of details of Sam's entire life and then Hell happens and that's like more than Dean will ever know of him and Dean's like. relatively just. in the dark.

[wench-and-jezebel]

NCIS Reaction: Marine Down

Wench (@scripted-downfall) reacts [with (maybe) occasional asides by Jezebel (@typicalopposite)]: a transcript from a voice call

[Is always a dead person.  Like, it’s never an inside job, never stealing, nothing.  Just death]

Well, this is new… we don’t usually start out with a wake

[It’s Jim!]  Well, that was weird  [He’s not dead]  Also, we also don’t usually start out with the person being not-dead… Also, so much for “always a dead person,” I guess

Tonyyy

Always confuses me why they have lab techs have gun training

[Is McGee here!?! 💕]

I mean, the cutout losing an ear isn't the end of the world… At least she's alive and not killed by the hostage-taker!  [Noooo M3GAN ptsd!]  We have to react to thattttt

[Damn not the phone going on the target]  Love that Kate cared about her PDA but Tony cared more about the hat alskjdf  [He’d have took my phone and I would have quit]  We would both pass away if your phone died

I do appreciate the threat to the boat, though it’d be kinda sad to lose it :(

He gave Abby the hat!  [Abbbyyyyy]

"Computers can sense fear"  [I love Abby]

Gunpowder perfume seems awesome

Tony has Post-It notes everywhere… Even on his lamp

Wait, surely McGee's gotta come in: Abby's got a new perfume (huh… that was half-joke but I wonder if they're still a "thing")

It's Jim's ghost and you're watching Supernatural  [Sam and Dean are gonna show up]  Bringing back the long-forgotten the priest outfits

That was a very unsympathetic "You have our sympathies,” Kate

Sealed caskets?  That's suspicious… Suspicious circs

Poor Tony, results redacted

[Poor Tony still looking sadly at the hat]  Noooooo

Tony's (listed in the system as) DEAD?!?!?!  I told you it was an SPN episode!  [☠️☠️☠️]

Wait, was the PDA shot?

[“Not everything is a conspiracy”  But it is Kate]

Why is Gibbs always making them move with absolutely no warning

THE PDA WAS SHOT  [Poor phone ☠️☠️☠️]

And at least Tony got a new hat :)

"We can’t release how they died because of the way they died"  WELL HOW'D THEY DIE THEN?!?!

Body language isn't thattttt accurate

[Quantico!  Criminal Minds crossover!] alksdjf

What is it with higher-ups always interrupting their employees?  Grissom in CSI does it too

What were those significant looks about???  (Serious question; that was not a very awe-inspiring reveal)

The layers of deception here though

I do appreciate that Gibbs and Tony tend to play off each other in terms of banter.  I mean, they clearly know each other's interrogative strategies

[Why are they talking “secretive” stuff just… in the middle of the office]

Also, I thought Gibbs had clearance for the documents???  That was a whole conversation topic?

Abby's love language seems to be caffeine-drink reception  [CafPow]  Ducky gave her one during the MMORPG one

Kate and Tony are leaving together; gonna go burn Gibbs’ boat now

That was abrupt, Kate

Imagine being good at art  [Shut up you are!]  Uh-uh  [Uh huh]

*artist jealousy intensifying*

[Tony is such a childdd!  Like, in a Dean way]

The drawings though alksjfd [Uh oh, she’s got Gibbs drawn like one of her French girls]

I hate the whole "I need x time" "nah, take y (less than x) time” trope

Snow is pretty  [Something we never get]  Noooo

Creepy photography  [He looks.. right at the camera… But doesn’t see the camera]

I like her turtleneck

Does Abby have a clown on her shirt?  [Probably]

Such a coherent message  [Yep total confirmation of him being alive]

"Hizzouse" was kinda obvious though, especially given context

Dude, the distortion though

Why do they even bother with the "I thought x, but was wrong" section of the debriefing?  [☠️☠️☠️]  They do it in every lab show

“We’ve got a dead man calling”  I'm surprised that wasn't the title…  What the hell does Marine Down even mean?

Why would you screw shut a coffin?  Unless you're in Supernatural.  Or the X Files.  [Very true]

"Calls from grave" was a Supernatural episode summary, I remember it

Poor Ducky has not been in this episode  [Well they never had a body]  I miss him :(

I love the mini drill

[BUM BUM BUM]  This.  This is an SPN/X Files episode

– – –

Wench: I'm.  Highly confused.  It feels like they keep saying something  and then backtracking.  And then going forward again.  And then backtracking.  It’s like the circles thing, but a plot point not just a line/speech

Jezebel: Yeah!  And, honestly, I can’t even remember this episode past the beginning when he calls her. So this all feels new to me too!

Wench: But for real, we haven’t actually had a plot because they just... "he dead" "he not dead" "he calling" "he not calling" "gibbs has access" "gibbs does not have access" "he dead" "oh wait he not dead" "he not calling" "oh wait he calling" "oh wait he dead"

Jezebel: Yeah it’s just dead guy called wife.  And it’s mysterious.

Wench: Because to the extent that there is a plot, it just kinda.. ouroboros's in on itself?  I don't know if I'm just missing stuff or if they're being unclear but what???  Like, they just said he looked alive?

Jezebel: I think they are confused

Wench: I will say... have you seen The Mummy?  Because this makes me think of a scene where they open a sarcophagus and the contents are still decomposing and the line is literally: “Why does he look so… juicy?” in this really memorable exchange… (We better react to that or else)  That is what's going through my head… EXCEPT THEY HAVEN'T SAID WHETHER HE'S DEAD

Jezebel: MYSTERIOUS

Wench: I will say that I haven't been especially annoyed by the characters.  Gibbs hasn't been his usual bitchy self

Jezebel: This is the Gibbs the writers intended him to be

Wench: Kate's been decent too, and I appreciated her interactions with Tony.  It kinda feels like they've that sibling energy they were talking about in the other episode, where they're bickering, but not nastily?

Jezebel: Yeah

Wench: Anyway, it kinda feels like the Dark Angels we've been watching where... nothing... happened.  

Jezebel: Right.  And they just kinda waffle back and forth, especially since they’re acting like something bad happened, but he looks all peaceful?  So it’s like… It looks like he's dead and has been dead, in the position of being dead, and not like he was just up and around and calling his wife.  So unless he decided to just go ahead and die, hands clasped over stomach, all we know is that something bad happened, except what if it didn’t

Wench: Right.  And we still don’t know, is it bad in the context of his work or not?

Jezebel: Yeah

Wench: All I’m saying is, this be a Max POV episode

– – –

“We screwed that up”  Screwed what up?  What exactly could have gone differently?????

[Why does the guy whose picture is on the wall under bin Laden’s look like Michael Myers?]

"Unless your calling plan include an afterlife" SPN-coded

"Married four times"  Has Gibbs really?  Dang, boi!

[Look at Tony fangirling over gibbs]

Why do they keep talking in jargonnnnn

DUCKYYYYYY  [Well… now he’s got a body]

Has he been embalmed or just consumed formaldehyde?

I told you Tony was a closet nerd!!!  WHAT DID I SAY?!!?!?

Tony, stop ogling the dead dude [☠️☠️☠️☠️]  Ya necrophiliac

I appreciate the recognition of the limits of autopsies and time-of-death estimations

The chuckle though

[This still doesn’t explain… HOW HE called the wifeeee]

THEY SAID THE DUDES WERE POISONED WITH FORMALDEHYDE; WHY ARE WE NOT TALKING ABOUT THIS????  [Because they have forgotten they said that]  alksdjflaksdfj

Gibbs and his time pressures  [Right?!]

Once again, the only appropriate explanation seems to be supernatural… (lower-case this time)  [Isssa ghost]

What's with the random map in the background?  [I think it’s just always running]  What a waste of energy!

AGAIN WITH THE TIME PRESSURES  [Gibbs: Chop chop]

OH NO THE PAPERWORK MIX-UP HAS A PURPOSE [Bum bum bummmmm is not Tony!]

Chickadee, you were not subtle about that turn though

[Blech]

Poor Ducky  [Just wait til you meet Jimmy]  Is that a good “wait” or a bad one?  [He’s basically bby ducky]  OH LOVELY  [Glasses and all]

Ducky, ya good?  That was a very abrupt motion  [The cringe tho]  BUDDY WHAT'S THE MATTER?!?!?  [Oh shit he was shaking]

"I think he knew something was up" NO SHIT YOU WEREN'T SUBTLE  [🤣🤣🤣]

Poor Tony, identity theft once again

Speaking of not subtle, this dude-

[I swear Tony always gets the short end of the stick]

WHERE DID THE GUN COME FROM?!? WHY IS THERE JUST RANDOM GUNFIRE?!?… Is this gonna be terrorists again!?!?

[Gibbs talking to himself now]

Woman, slow down with the numbers alskdfj

Um.  Tony.  Calmeth downeth the flirtingeth  [“But I look good”]

Tony being very concerned about Gibbs right there… very sweet  [He be like: boss you ok? 🥺🥺💕]

“How many agencies do you know that drive economy-class armoured cars?”  I'd wager most of them actually

Tony and Gibbs have Connections  [The way he looks at Kate like how can you NOT tell?]

"I have to get better at reading men"  Bitch, you can't read people because you're not empathetic.. it's not a sex/gender thing; it’s a you thing

DUCKY STANDING UP FOR HIMSELF; THANK YOU

Gibbs did not help

Oh come on not the dumb!Tony trope again [Ooooof]

ONCE AGAIN IF THIS IS NOT ABOUT HIM DRINKING THE FORMALDEHYDE I’MA LOSE IT

Can you read the newspaper you just pulled from the dude’s body?  [The newspaper in his neck made my eye twitch!]

TONY DOING THE TRANSLATION YESSSSS SMART TONY TRUTHERS ARE WINNING THIS EPISODEEEEE

aksdjflkasjf 

Can we get some straight answers one of these days?  Please?  [So much is happening but so little is happening, and it’s confusing]

Tony recognizing Gibbs is pissed and thus dialling up his own anger… Love it  [I got you bab- I mean boss]

I love her glovesssss

THEY ARE DIGGING UP A GRAVE IN A CEMETERY AT NIGHT.  ONCE AGAIN: THIS IS A SUPERNATURAL EPISODE!!!

Where's the salt?

"It's not like we couldn't do this during daylight"  *haunted Supernatural expression cast vaguely in Tony’s direction*  Bitch, you don't know the struggle

"You afraid of ghosts?"  How many times do I have to say it?  SUPERNATURAL

[He keeps looking at Kate like, “see he’s so upset”]

Oop-, Tony knowing how to use the technology is awesome

That was a very abrupt scene change

Kate, this is why they invented coffee!  [Kate needs a Caf-Pow]  Weaklings.  Imagine needing sleep!

ONCE AGAIN.  I’M BEGGING Y’ALL TO REMEMBER THE POISONINGS

[Long pause…. “Poison”]  lksadfjlsakdfjaldskfj WHAT IS WITH THE LONG PAUSES IN GENERAL THOUGH?  [Old people]  alksdjfaksldjf  [Gotta be dramatic]

Dude made off with the ransom money?  Rude

This conversation is so dramtically-paused for why

Dude, they're not backing off just because you say to.  That never works.  Ever.

SEE?!!?!?

[Ack]  Unsafe flying conditions right there

Poor Kate

TONY STILL HARPING ON THE JETSSSS; I’m loving it

"Sure"  That’s very convincing, Tony, bud

[Gibbs is asleep]  Have you seen Aliens?  If not... *whistles and adds it to the list*  [A long time ago]

Tony knowing Gibbs well again

[Ok that was adorable]  He has so much energy and for why  [‘Cause he’s petty af]

See, HE understands coffee

Weakling.  Just use the bag.  Privacy be overrated!  [Behind the boxes]  IN the boxes

[Awww she Boujie… Now Kate’s gonna be upset]

It is kinda dumb for him to just stick around

She just better not be bitchy about it

Whenever a character says "humour us,” you're in trouble

Y'ALL ONCE WHAT IS GOING ON WITH THE POISONING?!!?  They stick in random details for no reason and then never touch them again.  Chekhov's gun just got unloaded and shipped off for scrap

[He a mordorerrrr]

It's so weird not seeing Weatherly in a wheelchair.  Honestly, I kinda forget they're the same actor.  Like, I can see it?  But they're really different in character/personality/acting.  [Which is crazy cause it’s only a few years difference]

This storyline is so confusing.  What exactly is even happening?  [I have no idea]

I might go read through the script before/during endpoint just to try and figure it out.  And I'm not sure it'll help; they just kinda... jump from idea to idea  [Good luck ☠️]

Tony taking off his cap to protect it from the gunfire alsdkfj

[btw I think they were oh this will be interesting for a plot]  Right… And I mean… it was interesting.  But only in the fever-dream kinda way.  It doesn’t really make sense.

This poor marine  

What is this dude's issue with Gibbs????

Oof  [Well damn]  Gibbs gonna feel real safe walking out after you just killed the last dude

"Just wanna talk" Y'all are talking now?!?

HOW ARE THERE ONLY THREE MINUTES LEFT IN THIS EPISODE!?  [☠️☠️🤣🤣☠️☠️]  HOW IS THIS POSSIBLY GONNA BE RESOLVED

Oop- return of the shooting range storyline!  I saw those significant looks between Tony and Gibbs. Only problem: Tony gonna shoot the marine's ear off  [Aghhh M3gan ptsd… again]

"I can't believe you trusted me"  He didn't

[Well damn]  That situation.  Did not need that level of force.  [Brutal]  Bruh, why did they both shoot?!?!?!  [In memory of the hat and phone]  WHY DID THEY BOTH SHOOT MULTIPLE TIMES? EACH!?!?!?  (Also, RIP hat and phone)

[Damn!  That’s wholesome!]

Good for these people, but I feel bad for the wife who didn't get her husband back and now has to watch the other reunion [☠️☠️☠️]

And now has to watch the other reunion

The kids are precioussssss

NO BUT THE GUY’S EAR *&(#*&!(&R*(!&$)!(*&#@$!()  I SAID IT!  I CALLED IT!  WHAT DID I SAYYYYY… I mean.  At least Tony's a consistent shot?

This chick again!  One of these days, we better figure out who she is!

Also, there's a random yellow ribbon around the tree and it's making me think of the song  [You don’t know what that means tho?  The yellow ribbon?]  I know the song...?  [No a yellow ribbon is for a lost loved one]  Oh, damn.  [🤣🤣]

– – – 

Wench: Dude, we never found out what was going on with the person taking the photographs???

Jezebel: Could it have been the guy at the end?  Who specifically wanted to speak to Gibbs?

Wench: I don't think so; wasn't he supposed to be in Colombia?  ALSO WHAT WAS GOING ON WITH THE CALLS?!?!

Jezebel: I don’t know 🤣🤣

Wench: Honestly, my first reaction is a quite solid wtf.  I have 0 clue what just happened. But at least it wasn't terrorists again?

Jezebel: Very much same 🤣🤣🤣

Wench: I wasn't cognizant of the fact that 45 minutes just passed.  In terms of what happened, I feel like that was an episode worth of inconsistency and plot holes.  Feels kinda harsh to say, but it's true

Jezebel: And they will never be filled ☠️🤣

Wench: I even looked at the wiki and just… wot?  Very thorough wiki, with no answers to be had.  (I honestly think the the thoroughness didn't help because it basically just recited the show, whereas I need some kind of broad summary to get what the hell was going on.)

Jezebel: Right

Wench: I did appreciate the characterization this time.  And am very glad that Ducky got a chance to be annoyed about the "boring" allegations.  

Jezebel: Yess

Wench: And calling out his assistant on the headphone thing

Jezebel: YESSSS

Wench: Especially because when I worked in a lab, they didn't let us put on headphones or play music or anything because we had to be able to hear if something went wrong.  And admittedly that was a chem lab, not a morgue where (hopefully) things aren't moving — you know, in an ideal situation 🙂 — but it thus strikes me as weird that he had headphones on

Jezebel: I didn’t really remember him, tbh.  I think most of the episodes I’m remembering are from s2, so I’m used to that version of Kate, and Tony, and Gibbs.  And that’s the season with Jimmy, I think.

Wench: And McGee isn't here as much as you seem to remember either

Jezebel: Right.  And I thought he was introduced as a side thing-

Wench: A one-shot character?

Jezebel: Yeah, and then he wasn’t in the episode after, but was in the one after that… And then he joined for good.  So this is… weird.

Wench: Yeah, I definitely hear that

Jezebel: I will say, Ziva joins for a long time, and I do like her and Tony… I mean, they’re the actual canon thing developing.  But she’s sometimes a bit… meh.  And not as interesting as the thing with Tony and McGee.

Wench: So what I'm hearing is... pros of multishipping?  I mean, ya know... Tony has two hands.  That just seems to be the solution to all of our problems

Jezebel: Right 🙂  There’s also a ship that comes out of Mcgee and Abby dating…

Wench: Well, that already started, right?  Or at their first date did

Jezebel: Yeah.  I start getting into ick with ships like Gibbs and Abby.  Because I don’t like that.

Wench: Oh, absolutely, that’s familial, not romantic.  Same with Gibbs and Tony, tbh.  Like, I can see joking about it, but it’s far more Tony hero-worshipping Gibbs than anything, and not more.  I don’t think I like it.

Jezebel: Right.  You can see how other people see it, right-

Wench: Yeah

Jezebel: But it’s like… It’s like shipping Dean and Jody.  It’s just weird

Wench: I don't like thatttttttttt

Jezebel: Anyway... if I can come up with anything to say for endpoint... Uh.  GOT IT.  Abby's gloves were great!  Honestly, highlight of the episode.  ‘Til next time!

[darkshrimpemotions]

A lot of Destiel blogs I look at hate Dabb, I don't really understand why apparently he made Dean too angry?

Ohhhh nonny, it's absolutely not that he made Dean "too angry." It's that during his era the writers routinely shredded Dean's previously established character and ignored or backtracked his prior development in order to create additional tension and conflict where there didn't really need to be additional tension and conflict. I've also seen many people say, and I agree, that Dabb's era kind of flattens Cas out and doesn't allow him to experience emotions other than "sad martyr" nearly often enough.

Dean being angry is in character. Dean reacting to stress and trauma with anger is in character. Dean masking pain with anger is in character. And to be fair, Dabb era does a pretty good job of calling out Dean's anger as a secondary emotion and/or trauma response. Though they don't ever really deal with it, which is another problem for another day.

What's not in character is that Dean would ever treat any child the way he treats Jack in seasons 13-15. What's not in character is that Dean would ever call someone his child, his family, and then turn around and claim they aren't later.

What's definitely not in character is that Dean would ever give up on any member of his family as a lost cause, no matter what they did or how dangerous they were in the moment, or in general. We've seen this to be true with both Sam and Cas, multiple times. We've seen this with John (while possessed) and Mary (while brainwashed). Hell, we've even seen this with characters Dean only interacts with on screen a handful of times, like Claire and Garth.

An in-character Dean would have fought for another way until they found one or it killed him. An in-character Dean would sooner let Jack kill him than put a gun to Jack's head. Hell, an in-character Dean should've been the one to put a bullet in Chuck, and it should've happened the very first second after Chuck suggested shooting Jack.

It's always been a cornerstone of Dean's character that he does not give up on family. He doesn't put anything before his family, whether that's found family or blood family. Not the mission, not the greater good, not the will of his father or God himself. And yet we're supposed to believe that he's willing to do the "hard, ugly thing" with Jack? No, I'm not buying it.

And as for Cas...Cas should have been furious at Dean for locking Jack in the mal'ak box, a fate so awful Dean himself had nightmares about it before it even happened to him. Cas should have been ready to tear Dean limb from limb for even considering putting a gun to their son's head.

That's his baby. That's his son. And I'm sorry, I know first-hand that there are parents who make excuses for shitty significant others and let their kids suffer the consequences, but I don't buy Cas as one of those people. Do you?

No, we should have gotten Alleyway Ass-kicking 2.0 for that shit, but instead? Cas acts like Dean has any right whatsoever to be angry at him, leaves without even giving Dean a well-deserved piece of his mind, and then comes back and accepts Dean's forgiveness like Dean isn't the one who needed forgiving in that scenario.

And really, it all just boils down to Dabb walking this weird line in seasons 14-15 where he was trying to raise the family drama stakes by giving them a kid that they love who might or might not be evil, but also pulling back hard to just-the-brothers state by having no one in this so-called family actually act like a family should. Because seriously, what parent who loves their child wouldn't go absolutely fucking feral at the suggestion of someone harming them in retaliation for an accident? Much less their other parent who's supposed to love them?

Like...I'd say Dabb and whoever else wrote on seasons 14-15 just doesn't understand parenthood, but I'm not even a fucking parent. I have not a single maternal or paternal bone in my entire body, and even I get it better that these chuckleheads, so it can't be that.

And it's just really frustrating because what does it say about Sam and Dean as people if they can sincerely call someone their child and then even consider killing him? If Dean can actively plan to do it and Sam doesn't do anything but look sad and say but no Dean I don't like this? If Cas can even look at the man who put a gun to his baby's head afterward, much less embrace him, much less die for him, leaving said child in the care of the guy who wanted to kill him and the guy who wasn't trying very hard to stop it? What kind of people are they, if they can do those things? To their own child?

It's character assassination for Dean, Sam, and Cas, and completely treating anyone who's not blood kin to the brothers like they're disposable. So that's probably why most Destiel fans, who tend to care a lot about the whole "family don't end with blood" message in the show, don't like Dabb or his era very much.

[artemis-pendragon]

wait if you have the time would you mind expanding on the parallels between achilles and patroclus and the ships you mentioned?

OH GOD YES I WOULD LOVE TO THANKS FOR ASKING!! The English Major in me jumped out so here's an absolute novel lmao:

Hannibal/Will:

Hannibal and Will are the easiest to draw direct parallels to because they are textually compared to Achilles and Patroclus in canon. Hannibal draws himself as Achilles and Will as Patroclus, then (because apparently he’s never heard of subtlety) shows it to Will.

Hannibal says that hiding and revealing identities is a major theme in the Iliad. Will asks Hannibal to reveal himself to Jack Crawford; in the same episode, Hannibal begins to suspect that Will has betrayed him, hiding his true intentions behind a façade to bait Hannibal into being captured by the FBI. However, Will isn’t even sure himself what his real intentions and identity is, and eventually betrays the FBI and runs away with Hannibal.

After Hannibal realizes that Will betrayed him (which is also the episode after he talks about how they’re like Achilles and Patroclus), he stabs Will in the stomach. Patroclus was killed after being stabbed in the stomach.

Hannibal and Will’s blurring identities is a major theme throughout the show. Just as Patroclus takes on Achilles’s identity on the field of war, Will takes on Hannibal’s identity in many ways—both intentionally, and unintentionally.

Patroclus dies wearing Achilles’s armor. Will is accused of being the Chesapeake Ripper, imprisoned, and could have been executed for Hannibal’s crimes if Hannibal hadn’t interfered.

Hannibal is a god-adjacent character, while Will is his more human counterpart. Will is Hannibal’s tether to his humanity, just as Patroclus is Achilles’s.

Just like Achilles couldn’t stand to be parted from Patroclus, Hannibal chose to let Will pull him off a cliff to their (probable) deaths. Hannibal would rather die with Will than live without him.

There is a significant amount of water imagery in this show. Will especially has a lot of ties to water: he likes to fish (his mind palace is initially shown to be a stream); he’s knowledgeable about boats and sailing (he sails across the Atlantic to find Hannibal); his dreams and hallucinations often include water and/or blood; he pulled Hannibal off a cliff into the ocean in a last ditch attempt to kill them both; etc. The story of Achilles also has lots of water-related motifs since Achilles’s mother, Thetis, is a sea nymph/goddess of water.

Hannibal didn’t become overtly vicious and violent toward the Great Red Dragon until he threatened to kill (and then actually stabbed) Will. Then he went totally feral and (literally) ripped Dolarhyde’s throat out. This reminds me of Achilles losing his mind and killing then mutilating Hector after Hector killed Patroclus.

Steve/Bucky:

Steve and Bucky have the “legendary beloved heroic superhuman soldier” and “childhood friend turned war companion” parallel down to a T. Steve is like Achilles: he is a born soldier who wants to fight for his country, starting out idealistic and becoming worn down and jaded by war over time. Bucky is far more reluctant to go to war but follows Steve back onto the battlefield because he believes in Steve and wants to keep him safe—especially from his own reckless righteousness. This is very similar to Patroclus’s desire to follow Achilles to war mostly out of a desire to protect and guide him away from his self-destructive, hot-headed tendencies.

Just as Patroclus put on Achilles’s armor to fight (and die) in his place on the battlefield, Bucky picks up and wields Steve’s shield just before he falls off the train to his apparent death.

Steve starts out saying that he doesn’t want to kill anybody, but after Bucky “dies”, he vows not to stop until every member of Hydra is either killed or captured. This is similar to Achilles’s reaction to Patroclus’s death, where he goes mad with grief and kills everyone in his path to get to Hector, who he then violently kills.

Additionally, after killing Hector, Achilles continues to fight recklessly until someone kills him. Similarly, Steve keeps fighting to stop Hydra but ultimately goes down with the aircraft carrying the bombs, allowing himself to drown/freeze. There’s probably ways he could have gotten out of that situation, but instead he kind of just gives in and lets himself “die” (at least that’s my interpretation).

The Captain America movies also have some interesting water imagery. Bucky falls to his “death” in a ravine, most likely falling into the frozen stream. Steve “drowns” after he crashes the plane into the ocean; in The Winter Soldier, Steve falls from the helicarrier into the Potomac, and Bucky jumps in after him. Again, the story of Achilles also contains water-related motifs due to Achilles’s mother being a sea nymph; I’m sure I could write an entire essay about these parallels before I figure out how to verbalize why this is interesting, but I’m too lazy to right now lol.

Arthur/Merlin:

Again, just like with Steve and Bucky, this is an obvious case of “famous royal golden hero of legends” and “less well-known but ultimately extremely important companion who follows him to war”. Like Achilles and Patroclus, Arthur and Merlin meet before Arthur is a famous warrior and become friends long before the “big war” that ultimately tears them apart.

Arthur and Achilles might be the famous warriors, but Merlin and Patroclus are the kind-hearted, brave, fiercely loyal companions who serve both as a fellow warrior on the battlefield, and as a moral compass. Just as Achilles looks to Patroclus for advice and as a tether to the humility and importance of humanity in the face of a great destiny, Arthur looks to Merlin.

Both Patroclus and Merlin seem at first to be ordinary men who (in the eyes of most casual observers) aren’t worthy of Achilles/Arthur’s friendship. However, they both become legendary figures of their own, without whom their legendary heroic counterparts would never have survived.

As I mentioned in the section about Hannibal and Will, the theme of hiding and revealing identities is very important in the story of Achilles and Patroclus. One of the biggest plot points in Merlin is that Merlin can’t reveal that he has magic; he doesn’t do so until the last episode, once Arthur has been mortally wounded.

Just as Patroclus always believed that Achilles would live up to his great destiny, Merlin always believed in Arthur. And even though Arthur didn’t know about Merlin’s true potential and role in his rise to the throne, Arthur believed that Merlin was one of the best, most courageous men he’d ever met. This reminds me o Achilles referring to Patroclus as Philtatos (in The Song of Achilles), meaning “best of men”.

In an inverted parallel, Arthur is the one who is stabbed and ultimately dies. Although Achilles does eventually die in war, it isn’t until after Patroclus dies. It is then implied that they will eventually meet again someday, just as Achilles and Patroclus would meet again in the afterlife after their ashes were mingled together.  

Dean/Cas:

In this relationship, Dean is very much the “reckless hero with a pre-ordained-by-the-gods destiny who is actually very flawed and carries a lot of self-doubt” and Cas is the “companion with a heart of gold who is almost embarrassingly devoted to the hero and will do anything for him”.

For Dean/Cas, there is also the parallel of struggling with a toxic parental figure who demands too much while also being emotionally absent and manipulative. For Dean, this is John Winchester, and for Achilles, this is Thetis. Cas also struggles with his relationship with his father (who is literally God lmao) and his desire to be a good soldier vs. his desire to do what’s right and to protect the man he loves.

Patroclus strives to help Achilles see that he’s more than just a weapon, and Cas and Dean both do this for each other: Dean helps Cas realize that he’s more than just another emotionless soldier of heaven, and Cas helps Dean realize he’s more than “daddy’s blunt instrument” (the phrasing of which I will still be laughing at in my grave. Thanks, CW.)

Dean’s godly destiny as Michael’s vessel is determined before he’s even born. Achilles’s godly destiny is also determined before he’s born, and neither one really has any say in it.

Patroclus ultimately dies in Achilles’s place, and Cas does the same for Dean many times. When Cas decides to help Dean escape heaven and try to save Sam and stop the apocalypse, he sacrifices himself to help Dean get away. Of the many times Cas puts his life on the line, it’s usually either to help Dean, or to save him. This is reminiscent of how Patroclus did almost everything not in the name of winning the war, or even the greater good (although he was obviously a good person), but to protect Achilles and keep him from getting himself killed.

Whenever Cas is dead, Dean’s mental health visibly deteriorates. He becomes more violent and unpredictable—a worse version of himself—just as Achilles did after Patroclus died.

Just as Patroclus acts as a tether to humanity for Achilles, Cas and Dean both act as tethers to humanity for each other. Cas pulls Dean out of Hell, restoring his humanity, and Dean helps Cas shrug off his emotionless angel identity and find some humanity of his own.

TLDR: Reckless blonde hero (or villain) with a legendary destiny/reputation and badass fighting skills + their viciously loyal brunette companion-slash-lover who's willing to die for them at a moment's notice = good shipping material

[curioussubjects]

come be a season 12 truther with me; or what if dean and cas got together offscreen

Originally, I wrote this post to celebrate “Galaxy Brain” airing as Berens & Glynn gave us “The Future.” It’s been a while since that episode aired, and some things have changed about this meta. As such, there are multiple versions of this post floating around, so make sure to go back to the source for the most up to date version.  For all intents and purposes, this post functions as a meta manifesto not unlike shipping manifestos from days of LJ past. In keeping with that tradition, this post is a close reading of Dabb Era Destiel in which I argue that by using narrative gaps, queer coding, and romance tropes, Dean and Cas are shown to be in an established relationship. Although beyond the scope of this post, it’s worth pointing out that keeping Destiel mostly off screen was a way for the creatives to bypass network censorship while still remaining true to the characters.

This post is divided into three sections. Section I focuses on giving an overview of why earlier seasons of Supernatural aren’t as compelling as season 12 as a turning point for Dean and Cas’s relationship. That said, special consideration is given to 09.06 “Heaven Can’t Wait” as a potential rest stop in our journey due to it’s significantly placed narrative gap as well as themes in the episode. However, this post isn’t going to examine season 9 trutherism in depth, though it does coexist with and allow for it. Section II analyses season 12 and proposes a timeline and justification for the shifting Destiel dynamic. Finally, Section III will offer an analysis of how Dean and Cas’s relationship has changed dramatically from previous seasons in a way that is most like the shift from a “will they or won’t they” pairing to an established one. 

Before I move to Section I, I’d like to note something this post takes for granted: Dean and Cas are the main romantic subplot of Supernatural, and, in fact, their relationship is elevated to main plot for both characters in season 15. This post won’t argue about the canonicity of Dean and Cas’s feelings for each other, therefore, and so won’t spend time looking at many Destiel defining moments. I’d also like to make clear that this post also takes for granted that Destiel is being intentionally developed by the writers starting with Carver’s Era, and more so in Dabb’s. 

I. Why Seasons 4 through 11 May Not be It

The tl;dr. here is that while there are many moments throughout these seasons that Dean and Cas could potentially get together, none of those moments are ideal for a bunch of reasons that can be summed up as really bad timing. I also think the narrative is actively pushing them towards a moment that works. We get plenty of stepping stones, especially once we hit seasons 8 through 11 (and 11 most of all).

Seasons 4 & 5:

I know there’s been a lot of get together fics over the years set in this time period, but I just don’t see it. Do I see them being intrigued and drawn to each other? Yes. Do I think either Cas or Dean would act on it? Nope. I’m not arguing anything re: Dean’s feelings, but with everything going at the time I find it hard to believe he’d pursue anything with his angel friend. Most importantly here, though, is that during this time Cas was still very alien and other. There was too much angel in him, and while he obviously came to care about Dean (and Sam) very much, I just can’t see him navigating the realm of human relationships. That said, seeing human!Cas in “The End” is the first we see of potential developments for how Cas could behave without his angelness interfering. Being human changes Cas a lot, beyond even his experience existing among humans, though that of course matters too. This development will be important later /wink.

Seasons 6 & 7:

Before anything else let me just recognize that if we could see some sexual tension in seasons 4 & 5, these two seasons come with our first taste of romantic tension. The pining! Also note the difference between season 4 Cas and season 6 Cas in terms of behaviour. He is much less the angel we saw in that barn in “Lazarus Rising.” In season 6, we have a Cas making misguided decisions guided entirely by his emotions – namely, not wanting to involve Dean with the war in heaven – which is peak human, honestly. Put a pin on how sad Dean is in both seasons with Cas’s absence. Finally, put a pin on this being our first moment of Cas doing things on his own to spare Dean and it not ending well (soulless!Sam, Cas “dying” after Leviathan) because this is *the* hurdle in their relationship (along with Dean’s lashing out and self-worth issues). With all this said, the marked distance between Dean and Cas in these seasons negates the possibility of them entering into any kind of relationship. Much like seasons 4 and 5, there’s too much going on.

Season 8:

Ah, yes, the summer of purgatory. If you thought we had pining before…! I think we’re all very clear on season 8 being a turning point for the show, not only because new showrunner, but we also get the bunker. TFW now has an HQ, which pretty soon becomes home. Yes, Baby will always be home, but the bunker becomes the *unmovable* safe haven that Baby couldn’t be. The bunker is a place to coalesce, and for all the amazing things Baby is, she is not that. The acquisition of the bunker marks a shift in the psychology of the show: with the stable home space we can start to imagine domesticity, a place to come home to, the stuff of ordinary living. Most of all, the bunker is emblematic of security, of safety –keep this in mind, as we go forward.

This season also continues to see Cas go down the path of independently solving his problems instead of asking for help from Sam and Dean (his family in a way heaven never was) – note that the better together issue is at play in different ways with Sam and Dean also, but I digress. I also want to point out disastrous instance #2 of Cas’s insistence on figuring it out on his own: he loses his grace, and the angels fall. As for Dean, season 8’s focus for him has much to do with Sam, and them coming face to face with their issues with codependency, which hit catastrophic levels with the gates of hell and Gadreel plots.

So despite all the deliciously angsty get together purgatory fics and spec, there’s too much distance between Dean and Cas on Cas’s part due to his guilt over betraying the Winchesters in s6 plus slaughtering angels plus unleashing Leviathan. We do see Dean being more emotionally open with Cas and continue to voicing his wish that Cas would just stay with him and Sam, and let them help. It’s clear as day how much Dean cares. The timing is still bad, though.

Before moving on to next season, let’s take a moment to appreciate that this is the season Dean admits being kinda done with one night stands because “always with the adios.” Remember the bunker as a sign of stability? Yeah. I wouldn’t say Dean is craving a relationship, exactly, but I think we can see that he does want something more (ahem also I’m nodding to Cas refusing to stay put just cause).

Seasons 9 & 10:

The most important thing to happen between this two seasons is Cas’s stint as a human for an extended period of time. There’s been plenty of spec and meta written over the years about the effects of being human on Cas’s grace (a proto-soul now maybe?). What we can say for sure, regardless, is that Cas is much more humanized once he becomes an angel again. The understanding he gets from being human doesn’t go away once he regains his angel powers. You’ll notice that while we still see some of season 4’s characterization, Cas is not the same as he was – he is alien to angels now and is more intelligible to humans. Additionally, in an interesting reversal from previous seasons, we now get to see the depth of Cas’s feelings for Dean (thanks, Metatron) as well as seeing him be more open emotionally, while Dean does most of the pushing away (first because of Gadreel, then because of the Mark of Cain). In short, the timing is still bad as Dean and Cas are largely kept apart both physically and emotionally.

9.06 Heaven Can’t Wait

This episode is my white whale, friends. While I’ve come to fully subscribe to the idea that something did happen between Dean and Cas during the fanfic gap, I don’t actually think it’s feasible that it marked the start of a relationship -- be it sexual or romantic. My reasoning here is quite simple: the timing is bad. Were it not for external events (Cas regaining his Grace and Dean taking on the MoC), the course would have likely differed. Furthermore, Dean’s guilt over making Cas leave the bunker as well as Cas’s own hurt and self-loathing pose a significant and as yet insurmountable obstacle, which is easily seen with how Dean and Cas’s character trajectories go separate ways.

YMMV on what exactly happened between them in that Motel, but something definitely did. Perhaps one day I’ll have a proper s9 trutherism post to link to here for more details (likely won’t be written by me, though). 

10.16 Paint It Black

From the point Dean gets the MoC until the end of season 10, anything between him and Cas is quite impossible due to distancing, to say the least. Again, yes, the fic is really good, but alas. One of the reasons I’m bringing up this episode in particular is because of the confession scene. One, it’s a rare bit of explicit emotional honesty from Dean, and two, it tells me that while he and Cas may be well aware of the Thing™ between them, it’s still uncharted waters. It’s scary, and murky, and they’re unsure how to navigated it or if they should even try. Makes sense, too, there’s been A LOT going on since s6. Anyway, he’s the full confession:

You know, the life I live, the work I do…I pretty much just figured that that was all there was to me, you know? Tear around and jam the key in the ignition and haul ass until I ran out of gas. I guess I just thought sooner or later, I’d go out the same way that I live – pedal to the metal, and that would be it. […]  Now, um… recent events, uh… make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And…I don’t know. I mean, you know, there’s – there’s things, there’s…people, feelings that I-I-I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time. […]  Yeah, I’m just starting to think that… maybe there’s more to it all than I thought.

Can I just say, first, that this confession keeps me up at night because we never actually see anything done with it explicitly? I mean, obviously, I think we do in fact see the effects of this confession in the show, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this behemoth, but still, like. Damn. Ok, so, remember when I brought up that thing in season 7 about Dean being kinda done with hook-ups? Here’s where that led us. We’re seeing a Dean here who wants more than what he has convinced himself he gets to have. He wants more than dying bloody. And when he talks about wanting to experience people and feelings differently, well, that says a lot not just on the queer coding front or the romantic front. I mean, jfc, Dean is accepting the idea that he can have more in life than just hunt until he drops, and he’s specifically talking about experiences at the interpersonal level.

Do you ever see a character having an epiphany and find yourself wanting to cry because this is it right here. Dean is just blatantly admitting he wants more and maybe he can make himself be open to that (!!!), which all culminates in season 11, so…

Season 11:

The pining is still here, but it’s worse now since it’s the whole plot? It’s been *checks calendar* 5 years of this. How are any of us still kicking I don’t know. Your slow burns could never. Cool worth noting points: Cas says yes to Lucifer (bad decision #2.5, lots of mitigating effects_I don’t actually hold it against him that much but Dean is another story & not entirely rational at this point); for the first time since the early days, Dean and Cas are on equal grounds: they’ve both fucked up a lot and have hurt each other. The issues this season are outside their dynamic. Amara and Lucifer here serve as externalizing forces for Dean and Cas’s problems: Cas checks out with Lucifer because he thinks it’s the only way he can help, Dean is caught up in the turmoil of Amara, the emblem of absence and avoidance of struggle. We do get something like an affirmation from the two of them to each other via Dean calling Cas his brother (and I want y’all to consider the historical queering of that statement, and Cas’s “I could go with you.” It feels like we’re headed to them being on the same page. By the end of the season, though, it feels like we’re getting a clean slate: Mary is back, nobody died, no end-of-the-world in sight, no interpersonal crisis. We’re also getting a new showrunner, so. No wonder. We’re gearing up for something, but I’m getting ahead of myself. What this season does that is super important is that it sets up the stage for the possibility of an actual relationship between Dean and Cas, something that has, up until this point, been pretty much impossible.

11.04 Baby

Y’all know what I’m about to quote here, right? That conversation between Dean and Sam about having something with someone who understands the life. Here we still have Dean reverting to the idea that it’s impossible, which is a direct contrast to the openness in 10.16. It’s understandable, though, considering there’s been little reason to think anything like that would be possible (see all the mess and poor timing from seasons past). The quote in question, though, marks a continuing development regarding the issues Dean is struggling with this season:

DEAN: Piper? That’s awesome. Heather. One-night wonders, man. Shoot, we’re lucky we still get that at all. SAM: Really? You don’t … Ever want something more? DEAN: I’m sorry, have you met us? We’re batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs. SAM: You don’t ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever. But … Something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?

We wouldn’t be talking about this stuff all these years after Sam and Dean had a serious relationship if it wasn’t important, right? Also who else do we meet this season? That’s right! Eileen! And doesn’t that hit different with season 15 hindsight? And who does Dean have that understands the life? Whose stories have been intricately connected to his? Right now, this is all conjecture. A pipe dream Sam is revisiting, and Dean is skeptical about. Except, well. Look at what we get in “Into the Mystic” and “The Chitters.”

11.11 Into The Mystic

I’m bringing up this episode as a cross reference to “Paint It Black” as well as to complement the talk from “Baby,” and to show, again, that, for all the closeness between Dean and Cas, there’s still a marked distance they haven’t yet bridged. There’s still truths they haven’t told each other. Thanks Mildred for the delicious exposition:

Darlin’…If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my years on the road, it’s when somebody’s pining for somebody else. […] Oh, don’t try and hide it now. Follow your heart. Remember?

11.19 The Chitters

And here we see some validation to Sam’s imagining of a possible future with someone else. We actually see hunters who not only are married, but they both make it out alive. Jesse and Cesar get their happy ending. They make the dream come true. And the reality of it important not just for Dean to see, but Sam too.

Dean: [with realization] Oh, so … [points back and forth to Jesse and Cesar] Cesar: Yeah. Dean: Okay, that’s… Cesar puts his beer bottle on the table and looks at Dean, while Jesse is being silent. Dean: What’s it like, settling down with a hunter? Cesar: Smelly, dirty. [turns to Jesse] Twice the worrying about getting ganked.

I’d like to point out, too, that the fear of getting ganked is thematic when it comes to the tension between Dean and Cas. More on this when we hit s13.

Alright, now, having said that, let’s take a look at season 12. Bear in mind, this is the official start of Dabb’s era, even if he kinda began taking over in season 11, and the change in vibes is obvious. In fact, 12 jumped out at me as a turning point, in hindsight, after getting smacked by the domesticity of seasons 13 and 14.

II. Why Season 12

[Out of date section. Update coming soon when spoons. After significant debate, I’ve altered the definitive start of Dean and Cas’s friend-with-benefits-with-mutual-pining relationship to between 12.02 and 12.03. I briefly explained why here, and yes it’s a shitpost--still true tho.]

Finally, the promise land, y’all. Getting right to it: what s11 was for Dean in terms of setting up the relationship stage, s12 was for Cas. In its initial beats, any way. That is, until the Kelly debacle, this was the longest Cas has been around the bunker and with the exception of seasons 13 and 14, it’s one of the first times we get to see how Cas might actually fit into the bunker-as-home. Things seem remarkably chill. Of course, we’ll notice that there’s still a lot of baggage hanging around because despite Dean and Cas being in a more stable place, they haven’t actually dealt with their interpersonal problems. I didn’t single out directly this episode, but do keep in mind Cas’s declaration in 12.09 First Blood as far as how much the Winchesters matter to Cas & how we also see Dean and Cas be particularly singled out with them seating together in the backseat of the Impala. What we also see this season is Cas trying to prove he is worthy of this family, his family. He’s not fighting for heaven or to right some grievous wrong (a la s8). No, this season he’s fighting to spare the Winchester, to bring them a win. To bring Dean a win. The major disconnect is that Dean (and Sam & Mary) already sees Cas that way, he doesn’t think Cas has anything to prove. And just maybe, Cas starts believing that too – or, at least, believing it enough.

12.10 Lily Sunders Has Some Regrets

This episode, oh my god, the goodness. In the wake of 12.09 we have Dean and Cas in a tiff because Cas mistake #3 (killing Billie and “cosmic consequences”), this is a pattern. Twice the worry of getting ganked, etc etc. But where this episode really shines is through the contrast between Ishim’s obsession with Lily and Cas & Dean’s mutual affection for each other. Ishim sees no difference here and, to him, Cas’s feelings for Dean are a human weakness. Returning to my point about human!Cas, this episode underscores that Cas’s increasing humanity is what puts him in the place where he can want what Dean wants instead of either being too alien to get it (see s4 & 5) or unable to experience it properly (Ishim).

12.12 Stuck in the Middle (With You)

Cas’s trajectory culminates here with the whole I love you (@ Dean), I love all of you (@ Winchesters). Let’s note too that Cas is dying here, in a way that is much more human than going up in light. This declaration of different types of love is entirely human. It’s also a definitive step wrt to Cas and Dean’s relationship because of what happens in 12.19. This. is. it. Oh, and, of course, let’s not forget to point to Dean’s face when Cas says that “I love you,” and how terrified he is that Cas is dying. Might make one rethink some things, hm?

12.19 The Future

This episode is simply hella suspicious, and all the kudos to Berens and Glynn for writing it. It’ll haunt me forever. Consider watching it again and just questioning everything. So. Weird things:

1. Dean’s reaction to Cas no getting in touch as opposed to Sam’s. Dean is pissed, which is Dean-speak for worried out of his mind. Sam is very worried, too, and puzzled, but he’s mostly expressing his relief that Cas is back. But Cas has gone awol before, but this time Dean is much more worked up about it; Sam takes note of this, too. Now, let’s imagine that maybe the events of 12.12 led to something happening between Dean and Cas. Then Cas decided to leave to find a lead on Kelly, but eventually Cas decides to work with Heaven and goes radio silent. For days. Having taken a chance, and something having happened between them, how would Dean react to Cas just going poof and not contacting him – despite Dean having called Cas multiple times.

2. Cas knows about the Colt. Ok, nothing off there. But when he goes to Dean’s room to talk, right after Dean leaves we see Cas looking around briefly. Like he know Dean would keep it in there. Maybe Cas had looked other places already. Who knows. What we do know is that eventually he does find the Colt not only in Dean’s room, but under Dean’s pillow. Sam didn’t even know the Colt wasn’t in the safe. So how did Cas know?

3.“He came into my room and he played me.” So, this quote right there, makes it seem like some seduction for personal gain, right? But can you see Cas actually doing that if they hadn’t gone there previously? For Dean not to suspect anything and go with it? There’s plenty of plausible deniability here, but the gaps in time in the narrative make me question what is there in those spaces. The scene where Cas tried to give Dean the mixtape back doesn’t read like “playing,” so it’s about a different interaction. Hm. Hmmm.

4. Dean and Cas’s brief conversation in Dean’s room is clearly Dean just wanting Cas to stay, so they can work (and be) together – because they’re better that way. Which, yeah, truth, but also ow.

5.And most importantly: When did Dean give Cas that mixtape??? How did that happen?

Sequence of events: Cas tells Dean he loves him – Dean is clearly shook by it – Dean gives Cas a mixtape (romantic gesture, often a declaration of feelings; in true Dean speak too lolsobs) – Cas goes awol - Dean acts like he got ghosted by his new bf -?????- Cas somehow knows the Colt is under Dean’s pillow – "He went into my room and he played me."

What am I supposed to do with that, hm? Like. Y’all realize they probably had some emotionally constipated getting together moment, right? Something that Dean clearly initially thought meant things were gonna change, now. Something that Cas couldn’t allow to happen until he could give Dean a win. Y’all are seeing this, yeah? I’m not saying they slept together and were full of feelings, except that’s kind of what I’m saying. But YMMV, there are other possibilities beyond sex. The full of feelings isn’t up for debate, though, even if the whole thing is informed by ridiculous amounts of miscommunication.

III. Seasons 13 through 15 As Established Relationship

Regardless of what happened in season 12, exactly, I can’t shake the feeling that something did happen, and something did change. My reasoning here is actually really simple: in comparison to previous seasons, Dean and Cas’s dynamic shifts significantly come season 13. I know some folks have been disappointed with some of season 13 and then season 14 for having dialed back on the destiel side of things. And, hey, maybe there’s truth to that in terms of backstage stuff, but I also want to point out that...well, the dialing back isn’t quite dialing back is it? Let’s look at 13 a little more closely:

Season 13:

So I said the deancas dynamic changed, right? I also think that change caught us unaware because the pivotal turning point that would cue us in never happened on screen as well as being subsumed by Cas’s death and Jack’s birth. But if I ask you about deancas in season 13 what would come to mind? Grief arc? Brokebacknatural? How domestic Dean and Cas are? There’s just something easy about their relationship after Cas returns from the Empty. The tension we’d grown so familiar with over the years is gone. Actually, it feels like we skipped the getting together bit of their relationship and went straight to established relationship and parenting. Some of the most peak married deancas moments we see circulating? Season 13, (and 12.10). It’s a lot, and it’s different, and it’s amazing.

13.01-13.05

Dean’s grief mini-arc. He was acting like a widower. Here’s me vaguely gesturing towards the mapping of Jonh, Mary, Dean, and Sam onto Dean, Cas, Sam, and Jack. And the reunion? I can’t help but be giddy at the song choice: “it’s never too late to start all over again.” To. Start. All. Over. Again. I’m just saying.

13.06 Tombstone & 13.16 Scoobynatural

I’m not going at length about these episodes, I just want to point out that they reveal that Dean and Cas have a whole thing going on off screen: they watch movies together, Cas knows about Dean being an angry sleeper, Cas seems to have been aware of the Dean-cave before Sam was. It’s little things like this that are examples of the narrative gaps surrounding Dean and Cas that have cropped up over the years. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to wonder what else could be hiding there. And when did the movie nights alluded in “Tombstone” happen? Maybe in season 12 when Cas in hanging around the bunker? The same period when Dean and Cas seem to be coalescing into something safer and more stable? Something that we never see come to a head because plot happens and Cas dies? Something that is immediately taken back up once Cas is alive again?

Season 14:

Overall, this season is more of what we got during 13, but it had two high notes I wanted to single out before ending this already too long post.

14.15 Peace of Mind

Look me in the eye and tell me Dean and Cas talking in the kitchen about Jack doesn’t read like husbands talking about their child. Look me in the eye and tell me Cas just texting Dean to gossip about Sam isn’t couple-y as hell.

14.18-14.20

Ah, yes, the divorce arc. Awful. Terrible. The culmination of Dean’s problem in all this: he lashes out, he pushes Cas away, his anger is alienating. Cue all of us suffering. But while Dean is clearly in the wrong in how the deals with his feelings, let’s not pretend some of his anger doesn’t come from a long established, and unaddressed, rift between him and Cas, which had its last traumatic turn when Cas died in s12. Dean isn’t being rational here: he saw Cas doing something on his own, and he saw that his mother is dead. What else could happen? Why won’t Cas just trust they can work as a team? What if Cas died again? And why should Cas put up with Dean’s behavior without knowing the cause? How can any relationship work this way? But notice how caught in the middle Sam was during all this. Notice how Jack is running off and acting out. The whole family is falling apart. Divorce arc, indeed.

Season 15:

But what about what we’re building up in 15? That seems like it could be a getting together plot, too, right? Well, yeah. It could very well be. But I’d argue the tension we’re seeing isn’t a will-they-or-won’t-they because they already have. We’re are watching a getting back together plot! The tension is, instead, will-they-or -won’t-they use their words to talk about the baggage that has kept them from truly being confident about their relationship. That’s the crucial step in their togetherness that they’re still missing, which is also the bedrock of the divorce arc that spanned twelve fucking episodes -- y’all, that’s half a season.

And technically? We’re not even done with yet because Cas never let Dean finish his prayer/confession in purgatory. What’s more, Cas hasn’t grappled with his role in the breakdown of their relationship, either: that he keeps going off on his own and getting hurt (and getting other people hurt), and Dean has to deal with the fallout. The deep emotional understanding, the truly being on the same page is what we’re on the edge of our seats for. We’re waiting to see what else Dean had to say, and what will happen when Cas’s deal with the Empty comes to light.

Finally, could we still have this plot without Dean and Cas having gotten together off screen? Sure, but I think the stakes are higher if they already did have something between them. If they actually have an established romantic relationship going on. Something real and tangible and as of yet much too fragile.

"...you asked what about all this is real. We are."

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

based on this hilarious post, by @profoundinqq! and written for @mystybloo. 

sam looks at his brother, a fast-growing-familiar eye crinkling smile making him look perfectly content as he leans on cas, relaxing his weight against him with an arm wrapped around cas's shoulders. they're all drinking — have been a while, but that's not where dean's smile stems from, and sam knows that. he looks carefree, younger, and so happy, and it's a constant sam's been noticing a while now, though tonight, and lately, it just seems normal.

(that's the thing. it is.)

sometimes sam wonders how it all began.

he's obviously ecstatic it did - honestly, he could think forever, and not come up with two individuals more deserving of such profound happiness, as dean or cas. or the love, abound when they're together, so incredibly obvious, and somehow, almost hope-kindling in a ways.

but it doesn't stop him wondering, right now, at this moment, how they finally ended up taking the leap. facing the music, falling into each other's arms, ending their ridiculous, decade-long dance of pining, confessing.

dean's never volunteered the information, and sam's never felt it urgent enough (or himself, earnest enough) to ask cas - but oh, it's probably been buried in the back of his mind for long, bundled with all the other pleasanter questions about life and living it — and today, it leaps to the front when the empty, green bottle spinning ambitiously under everyone's pointed stares, ends up stuttering to a pause, pointed at his brother.

they're playing truth or dare - a significant percentage of their adopted family present, although only a few remaining cause it's past midnight. they're sitting on the floor in a circle, all varying degrees of drunk - and sam winchester seizes his chance.

"truth or dare, dean."

*

dean doesn't really hesitate, which is commendable; he just disentangles himself from being draped over his boyfriend, and takes another swig from his bottle. "truth."

"how did you and cas -" sam pauses. his eyes shift to cas, and the angel faintly smiles back.

"- finally grow a pair?" gabriel finishes for him prematurely, leading to sam glaring in his general direction, because it's a little hard to know his exact coordinates at sam's current levels of inebriation.

"we haven't been growing anything." cas says, a hint of humor in his squint but that's about it. "or pairs of things."

"yeah, sammy." dean agrees, though his is not a wooden face. he doesn't pretend to not understand what sam - or well, gabriel, is going for. "me and cas? we're old news."

"you're a blank page." sam frowns, prissy and self-righteous, and somehow pulling off an annoyed little brother vibe on top of that. fuck that, he's the same distance from forty as dean, just the less prone-to-forgetting-the-reasons-he-enters-a-room side. "with a question mark at the end of the headline."

"how did you end up together?"

it's not his best comeback, but dean rolls his eyes — admission of defeat — with no real passion in the practiced habit. "what do you want to know?"

cas looks at dean with a substantial amount of surprise.

"he gave me a pick-me-up, back in hell." dean throws back, before realizing he's earned eye rolls from almost everyone in the room. sam takes it a step ahead, slipping into bitchface territory, as if to remind dean that he gets to ask these questions now - they're over lying about breaking the world to each other, at this point. they have to be.

another eyeroll, and then dean sighs.

"goddamn saps, all of you." he looks accusingly around the room, meeting eileen, charlie and gabriel's twinkling eyes. "fine. what version you want?"

"well, the long -"

"trick question. there's only one." dean cuts him off, with an age-old rendition of a shit-eating grin. if sam can spend his entire life and then some, perfecting the bitchface, at least dean's got this. "so, uh. me and cas."

charlie giggles, but shuts up immediately when dean starts speaking.

"guess we were playing truth and dare then as well." dean frowns. "man, for a bunch of badass dudes and ladies who save the world, we sure play a lot of middle-school games in the afterparties."

"i like it." cas defends, and that's that on that, because dean strokes cas's knee with his thumb and a smile, and they stare until the fork in the conversation is forgotten and sam clears his throat impatiently. (it's gabriel's turn to giggle.)

"right. right, yeah." dean swallows. "well, so it landed on me, and cas asked me to choose -"

"he dared you to kiss him!" charlie guesses, or actually, declares, beaming.

"no, katherine heigl, this isn't a chickflick."

"if you went for katherine heigl, you should've gone for romcom." gabriel inputs, almost serious for a fraction of a second.

"does it matter?" eileen signs, and sam reads her hands out loud absentmindedly, and with enthusiasm.

"dean, would you just say it minus the drama pauses?"

"yeah, instead of being grossly inaccurate in your movie genre references?" gabriel piles on top of it, and charlie nods in sympathy.

"of course you are, but i think i specified your face was." cas points out, and it's the first time he's spoken up, and dean almost blushes for it.

dean pulls a face. "go to hell, i don't have to take this." but he goes on anyway, cause that's dean, isn't it? "just - i chose truth, okay?"

no one breathes for a moment.

"and cas told me i was beautiful."

there's a gasp. probably charlie — but not completely unlikely to be gabriel.

"yeah, 'kay." dean dismisses, though it's mostly directed at the other four (hunter, hunter, nerd, ex-trickster, not necessarily in that order) who've taken to gushing by now. "and that's it. story over. cas messed up, billion year old angel style, and it led me to realize he was the most adorable dork i've ever loved. or like, the only one. ever."

sam, charlie, eileen and gabriel bat their eyelashes in undisguised wonder.

"you're allowed to disperse to your rooms to cry now." dean retorts, and he's about to add more to it considering he's well settled on the wisecrack wavelength, when cas suddenly interrupts.

with an inscrutable, "no."

"no?" dean repeats, eyebrows raised.

there's a speck in cas's eyes, the curve of his lips too whimsical. it's almost un-cas-like, except no, it isn't. doesn't stop dean from staring anyways - eyes falling to the latter's lips, before returning to his eyes.

"dean, i knew how the game worked."

dean frowns.

"i 'messed up' the rules on purpose." and he accompanies it with the fucking air-quotes, so he might sound completely nuts, but it's definitely still him.

"what does that mean?"

there's pin-drop silence.

"you'd call me adorable when i didn't understand aspects of human behavior or games often. and it always made you smile. so at some level, i wanted that, even when i did understand those things. sometimes, i'm compelled to draw the conclusion, i wanted you to think i was adorable." cas pauses, blinks. "that time, it was an added, and wholly unexpected incentive when you decided to give up on trying to explain it to me, and kissed me instead."

"cas -" dean stares at his angel in gap mouthed bewilderment. he doesn't know what he's supposed to feel right now - though it's hard to feel any kind of manipulated, when cas is being this honest about it. alternatively, when it's gotten him the best part of his life. "you lied to me."

"of course i didn't." the bastard has the balls to sound indignant about it. "your face is exquisite."

"stop that." dean swallows, trying to keep himself from getting flustered. "you literally played dumb."

"stating entirely true facts about your bewitching face hardly sets back my intelligence, dean."

a traitor snickers in the background.

dean is officially too drunk to deal with this. he's going to give it more thought tomorrow - that is, if he remembers it at all. right now, what's way more important, is that his boyfriend apparently flirts by pretending to misinterpret rules, and accidentally compliment dean, and that's the most ridiculous thing dean's ever heard, in a life stuffed to the damn brim with ridiculous things.

"you're so fucking weird, cas."

"no, dean. i'm adorable." cas deadpans at him, and dean lets out a high-strung laugh, short, after which he finds himself able to do little else but shake his head fondly. mostly, at the floor, because if he'd been looking at cas, he'd probably also have been kissing him.

"and you agree." sam points out, to dean, and in return, dean snaps up a look pissed off enough for sam to truly feel sated enough by this ordeal, because he shrugs, and eileen sets the bottle spinning again.

nobody protests.

*

a few chances later, after charlie's rushed off to throw up, and sam and eileen have gone to bed, and gabriel's sort of wandered away at the very least - cas spins the bottle again.

it's just the two of them, so when the bottle points at about forty degrees from straight at dean, they decide to forego asking the lamp in the bottle's true line of questioning, in favor of cas asking dean.

"truth or dare?"

"dare."

"alright, i shall." cas whispers, reaching out to cup dean's face as he kisses him, and pull him closer. and dean goes, obviously not arguing with the concept of cas kissing him, even if he's doing it 'as a dare', in a hilarious, mindboggling, and adorable callback to that time dean realized he was in love with him — because he's a weird ex-angel-who-apparently-understands-humans-now, and also, definitely, the love of his life.

*

("cas." dean psst's, later in bed, when cas is turned away from him, hugging a pillow with his knees. "truth or dare?" cas groggily turns, "truth." dean breaks into a smile. "will you marry me?" cas freezes for a beat, and then drags dean to himself, kissing him with his eyes closed, still stunned, but no less enthusiastic for it. when they separate, cas's cheeks are wet, and dean feels like he's floating. "you know, sweetheart, we can play the old-fashioned way, and you'd still be the most adorable thing in my life." dean mumbles, kissing cas again, this time on his forehead, and in the same, shared breath, cas breathes out, smiling. "yes.")

[teamsam]

The trickster that had to die

If you don’t want to live in this world anymore

Hold on to your friendships bit tighter

And by their side, you, I promise

Will think of your demise no more

 And when you’ve decided to end it

Your loved ones love harder, I say

If you come to love them, love truly

You won’t wreck yourself right away

“Men’s tears” by Neschastny Sluchai / "Unfortunate accident"

 Thinking about 13x21 ending for a long time, you can understand why Gabriel’s death was... if not justified, then, in its own way, fitting and expected.

* * *

First things first: who exactly came back to us after going at Lucifer with a blade in hand and after supposedly kicking the bucket? Was is Gabriel really? Or just a semblance of him, a voiceless creature, tortured to the extreme, that fears touch and flinches from a mere mention of grace? Pretty sure it was the latter. We know that much.

But do we understand what exactly has changed over these seven years and has continued to change after his escape? What was left in Gabriel then, and what was forever gone? What had he truly had – even before Loki and hell happened?

The identity-less persona

The most obvious change is, without a doubt, post-hell Gabriel having little to no grace. And completely lacking the ability to satisfy his every whim in a snap. There weren’t only his powers that he’d lost, but his freedom and independence too: which, as we know, meant to him a great deal. Being able to make his own decisions, to shape his own destiny, to avoid dealing with things he disagreed with – weren’t those the reasons he left Heaven may centuries ago? Wasn’t it his grace that allowed him to make his aspirations real by swapping faces with Loki?

For his entire life grace and archangel powers have been his guarantee of being fine – with them, he can go to the other side of the world, away from an observant hunter or some other threat in a snap. Just a snap – and he’s in the company of a /fake/ but very beautiful girl, ready to provide a detailed proof of just how awesome he is. A snap – and a perverted professor falls out the window and Gabriel gets a reason to be proud of himself for punishing evil once again.

After many centuries of being a Trickster Gabriel had literally built his identity and self-esteem around the things he can do. Performing miracles. Restoring the justice in the world. Enchanting and impressing hot ladies (the real ones – by his exceptionality, the fake ones – by the mere fact of his existence). That’s what allows him to smugly hit Dean’s shoulder and joke that he doesn’t see the wooden stick in his hand – the knowledge that it’s no threat to him anyway and that he can handle two dumbass hunters if he has to.

He’s a trickster with a power of an archangel: it’s basically a never-ending Vegas with bottomless wallet. And it’s been this way for a thousands of years. No wonder it goes into his head.

So who does he become when he’s been literally robbed? When Fenrir rips his shirt in the fight (he wouldn’t even get the chance to get close before!), when the portal in pretty telling manner closes in front of his eyes, all but turning into a mocking «dweeb»? Who is he, if not a powerless cripple that can’t even land without falling onto Cas’ legs?

(I still dislike this scene. Brrr)

Let’s not dig into the details of how have his trauma and torture added to his loss of identity. One thing clear: they definitely have.

The pointing that has no point

So, free from his captivity, Gabriel has no idea who he is.

Not a Trickster anymore: he’s cut off from his past as Loki, because his pagan friend-slash-enemy he perceives only as a reminder of how he trusted the wrong person and then went to hell. It’s unlikely that Gabriel’s comfortable with having spent centuries with a face of a guy who doomed him to torment.

Not yet an archangel: he’s cut off from his past as Gabriel, but that’s more of an old, scarred break than it is a fresh reason to get lost in himself. That was the most fateful decision he has ever made – to resign from his heavenly duties and leave his brothers’ quarrels behind. He hasn’t been an angel for a long, long time, so he can easily brush off Cas’ words about his responsibility for “his father’s creations”. Gabriel is used to believing that he doesn’t owe anything to anyone just because of his archangel status: not to God, not to people, not to his brothers, not even to the Winchesters. Have to emphasize: just because of the status. I’ll tell why he still went to the Other World and why was he defending humanity in front of Lucifer a bit later.

He just can’t consider his future at the moment: he’s thrown from hell to the bunker, from the bunker to Loki, then at the search for Lucifer and finally to the Oher World. I, personally, not only wouldn’t be able to sketch out my five-year plan, but brushing my teeth would consider a victory! So he’s not yet worried about what he would do when (and if) the Michael problem gets resolved. There’s no time, no time!..

I think he wouldn’t continue with the pranks. But also don’t think he’s just go back to Heaven. The path he’d choose could only be shown in time, but that’s the luxury Gabriel simply didn’t have.

And there is a mess in his present too: everyone suddenly wants something from him, and Gabriel has to get distracted to reply to them instead of taking a minute and thinking about himself. What does he feel? What does he want? How should he behave, after all: no one’s going to believe in the “righteous archangel” persona should he put it on, least of all himself. And he just can’t be Loki anymore.

The absence of his old self is not noticed by Gabriel right away: remember what I’ve said about his powers? And enchanting and impressing? The old Gabriel in no time would have figured a way to snatch half an hour of pleasure with Rowena. And this one doesn’t even comprehend what she wants from him: honestly, you’d have to be a complete loggerhead to miss these signals. And he’s just standing there, processing...

Sex is an old good way of making himself feel better that used to work before. To make sure of your significance and overall coolness. But now, after all these painful events, it’s “too little too late”.

So even though the eternal questions of “Who am I? What’s my place in this world?” are not at the top of Gabriel’s list, they are still present. He just doesn’t have time to get to them, even though he feels how old and familiar view of himself is crumbling down. And that the old idea of ​​his life turns out to be meaningless and empty: he’s not good even for a Trickster, let alone an archangel.

Or maybe it was the contrary: he has just now found himself, and stripped down of his masks, he learns that he’s just not familiar with his true self.

[end of part 1]

Whole thing

[deans-baby-momma]

Mommy’s (Not So) Good Girl-20

A/N: Only 5 more chapters after this one and GREAT NEWS!!!Only 5 more day of September so I will be posting a chapter a day until Sept. 30th. Then I am going on a small hiatus (again) to try and cope with this new “illness” and all it’s lovely side effects. 

I look at Dean wide-eyed as my mom’s voice sounds through the door. He jumps off the bed and I quickly crawl back under my comforter, pulling it up to my chest. 

“Yea Mom,” Abby says, her voice shaking. “Come on in.”

Mom opens the door and I can tell when she realizes that Dean is in my room. She looks at him shocked and stops halfway in.

“What are you doing in here?” she asks him.

“I wanted to make sure she was okay. I saw a dispute between her and that Coleman boy. I wanted to find out what that was about,” Dean explains and it looks as though my Mom buys it because she smiles sweetly at him and then continues on into my room.

“That’s sweet of him, isn’t it Abs?”

“Ye-yea,” I stutter out. “He’s a good stepdad.”

“Can I have a few minutes with her?” My mom asks as she looks at Dean. He nods and heads out the door, looking back over his shoulder at me once he is behind her. 

“What’s up Mom?” I ask as soon as he is out of sight.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry that your friend couldn’t make it tonight.”

“Huh?” I ask, confused.

“Your friend who you call ‘Daddy’.” she says, with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “You did invite him, didn’t you?” 

“Oh. Yea, I called him but he had to work,” I lie through my teeth. “It’s okay. It’s no big deal.”

“It was nice of Dean to give you a kiss at midnight though, wasn’t it?” she asks as she sits in the very same spot he had taken just ten minutes ago. “He really watches out for you and Ben. I think he’d make an excellent stepdad.” She pauses and then adds, “and a wonderful dad.”

I feel sick to my stomach! Is she insinuating what I think she is?!

“Mom, are you pregnant?”

“What?” she laughs as she answers. “No. I’m not pregnant. But the thought has crossed my mind. Dean lost so much when his brother died. He is the last living member of his immediate family. I just think it’d be nice to give him someone to carry on the Winchester name.”

‘Oh my god!’ I think to myself. ‘Mom is actually considering carrying Dean’s child! No, no no!’

“Yea, that would be nice. But-” I pause to be able to word my inquiry correctly. “Does Dean want kids? I mean sure he is awesome with me and with Ben but does he want his own?”

“I don’t know,” Mom says. “But if it were to happen, he’d have to be happy about it, right?”

“Mom, you cannot get pregnant without talking about it with him first.”

Mom sighs and then her shoulders slump. “Yea, you’re right. What was I thinking?!”

I breathe in relief that it seems that she has decided to forgo her plan of “accidentally” getting pregnant. 

I couldn't go to sleep after Mom dropped that bombshell. 

What was she thinking?! Did she actually believe Dean would be happy if she were to get pregnant? Would he? I know for a fact that they use protection, so he is trying not to knock her up right?

During Thanksgiving I had found an empty condom wrapper in her trashcan as I was gathering up the garbage in the house so I knew Dean, at least, had been thorough and had wrapped up.

I lay in bed,  staring up at the ceiling,  trying my best not to think of Dean impregnating my mother. That would just be so wrong!

Hopefully I talked some sense into her and she won't proceed with her nefarious and outrageous plan. I can only hope that if she were to get pregnant that it is after some honest discussion with the man and that he was on board with the idea as well.

Although, I don't think Dean is actually ready to settle down and have his own family.

Yes, he a excellent role model for Ben and the whole neighborhood thinks he and Mom are perfect for each other, they don't know he's also fucking me. Not so ideal now, is he?

VALENTINE'S DAY

Once again the campus is inundated with decorations. Big, red floating hearts seem to be posted everywhere, along with cutouts of that stupid baby with the bow and arrow and balloons seemingly come out of nowhere, getting right in the way.

Why college students insist on celebrating this holiday is beyond me. It's just another excuse to get drunk and try to bang someone. So many of my classmates throughout the last couple of years have had to pull back on their studies or completely drop out because a good Valentine romp ended up with a nice little surprise come Thanksgiving; a surprise in the form of a cute little baby.

I refuse to be one of those girls who get so blindly drunk she succumbs to the lame attempts by fellow college guys and 9 months later, alone and with a child to care for.

I swat away at the millionth red bag of air as my phone pings in my hand.  I look at the screen and smile when I see 'Daddy' has sent me a message.

>Happy Valentine's Day sweetheart 

>>Happy Valentine's Day Daddy. I miss you.

>God, I miss you too. My party was boring without you here.

Mom had thrown Dean a surprise birthday party at the end of January but I'd had a big exam to prep for so I couldn't make it home to attend.

>>I'm sorry. I had to study. I'll make it up to you, I promise. 

>How about today? Right now?

>>Now?

>Look up.

My head jerks up and there he is! I look around and my eyes fall on that black muscle car I remember from my childhood. The one that's been parked in the garage at home for months; Dean's excuse to spend time with Ben fixing it up and keeping it running.

Leaning against the top of the shiny ebony vehicle is the man who plagues my dreams, at night and during the day.  The way the sun shines creates a flawless glow around his head, almost like a halo. I smile as I cross the street toward him.

"What are you doing here?" I can’t help but to ask, but secretly giddy that he is here.

"Couldn't let today pass by without seeing you Abby. Thought you might allow me to take you to lunch, show me around your 'home away from home'," he says as I step toward him and he opens his arms. I gladly walk right into his embrace,  moving my books to one arm. 

I want to tiptoe and kiss him but I don't want anyone seeing anything that would raise questions, inquiries I didn't want to answer. Right now,  a hug looks innocent. Just a guy hugging a girl in greeting.

“Sure,” I say as I smile up at him. “I was just gonna drop my books off in my room and then go to the food cart down the way. C’mon.”

As we walk toward my dorm, I can’t help but feel special, feel important. Dean took the day to come an hour away to see me, on the day of love no less. Wait, does that mean what I think it means? Is there a more significant reason he is here? Is he here to declare feelings for me? 

I shake those thoughts from my head, determined not to question his visit but just enjoy it. So what if he drove almost 70 miles? He does it because he cares. Nothing more than that. I’m not going to scrutinize it; no, I’m going to enjoy the few hours I get to spend with the man. What’s that old saying, ‘don't look a gift horse in the mouth’? Yea I’m not going to do that.

When we get my dorm room, I unlock the door and walk in, holding it open so he can follow. Thank goodness Sheila isn’t here because I really don’t want to share any time I get to spend with Dean with anyone else. For a few hours today, he is mine.

Placing my books on my desk, I turn to see Dean looking around the room with his head nodding slightly. 

“So, you want to go with me to the food cart or-” I say nervously. Wait, why the hell am I nervous? Oh yea, that’s right; there is a bed not even 5 feet away and the man I have dreamed of being in that bed right there. My dream could actually come through. Getting back on track, I clear my throat. “-we could go to the cafe across campus. It’s a bit of a walk but it’s decent outside today. You know, for the middle of February in the north.”

“Yea we can do that baby,” he says with a smirk. “As soon as you tell me what’s wrong. You’re acting all shifty. Should I have called first? Do you have a date for Valentine’s Day?” He quirks and eyebrow at me.

I giggle and respond. “Uh, no.  No date. Just you’re in my room. And my bed is-” I explain as I point toward the furniture. “-is right here. I’ve dreamed of you and me in that bed, ya know.”

Dean steps closer and I can see the humor of the situation on his face. “And? What are we doing in the bed?”

I feel a flush come up my neck. Why am I embarrassed now? It’s not like we haven’t done it. “Fucking,” I answer honestly, which earns me a wide smile from the man in front of me.

“Well, how long will your roommate be gone?”

“Couple hours, I think.”

“Okay, so what do you say we go grab a bite to eat and then come back and make those dreams come true?”

Finally feeling bold again, I rip my sweater over my head and say, “Why wait?”

Dean hurriedly jerks his shirt off and I watch in awe. He unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down his legs before standing up again. This man is going to be the death of me.

“I need you Abby,” is all he says before I rush him, tackling him to the mattress.

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​ @spnbaby-67​ @tftumblin​ @sea040561​ @delightfullykrispypeach​ @larajadeschmidt13​ @vicariouslythruspn​ @squirrelnotsam​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @sandlee44​ @blacktithe7​ @deanwanddamons​ @hoboal87​ @marvelfanbrenda​ @vicmc624​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @elliloumom @stoneyggirl​  @kricketc29​

[letterstothemidnightsociety]

THURSDAY OCTOBER 8, one of the longest running television shows of our time begins airing the final episodes of it’s final season. Guys, Supernatural is 15. FIFTEEN. It can practically drive a car now. As one friend put it, “that show had a Quinceañera.” And if you don’t know how significant that is, think of the last show you know of that made it to season 10. Take your time, I’ll wait. 

Whoever I stole this birthday invite from, they are probably older than this show.

I started watching Supernatural in 2008. I was 19, I had just begun my journey towards Over-Worked, Under-Slept Millennial, and my best friend recommended it. I can’t really remember how the conversation went, but I’m sure at some point it was “It’s scary, and it’s got these two brothers, I’ll send you a link!” cuz we were trash and we were broke and Netflix...existed? Hulu existed, but not in the way that either of those sites work now, so we watched by...ahem...other means. It is probably why my first laptop stopped working after 3 semesters of college.

And damn, I was hooked. I don’t do scary movies and honestly, I was legit creeped out by a lot of these episodes, but it had two hot dudes who took down a monster every week and then (the real kicker) had a bigger, season-long mystery they were trying to solve. And occasionally, they got punched in their big dumb beautiful faces. If I had known what a kink was at the time, I would have said that someone was reading my dream diary. 

Over the next 12 years - Let me say that again for those of you in the back - TWELVE YEARS - I had an on-again-off-again relationship with the Winchesters. It was pretty hot and heavy in the beginning. I was jumping on the back of this 67 Chevy Impala 3 years in, so I had three seasons that I bought on DVD that I binged and was caught up with season 4 by the time the midseason started to air in late January of 2009. I was introducing all my friends to Supernatural, I made several people watch the entire first disc of season 1 with me, irregardless of whether they’d asked or not. Things started to cool down towards the end of season 4 as life started picking up and I know...I caught...the tail end of season 5? I think? I distinctly remember the final scene of the final episode, but honestly, I can’t remember how much of that season I actually watched.

At that point, I considered Supernatural to be a weird pseudoaddiction. I’d be clean for a while, years even, and then Netflix caught up with consumers and I could binge whole seasons in a weekend. It’d be, oh, I could just watch an episode. Just one episode. Maybe two. And then the weekend is gone in a blaze of classic rock and rock salt and I’m left with something like but not necessarily a hangover where my feelings live. I think I did this for seasons 6 through, like, 8? Eventually, Netflix stopped putting it at the top of my dashboard and it was easier to avoid. And I said to myself, well, when they finally get to the last season, THEN I’ll go on one last run, one last big score, and watch the whole series again in one go. 

But the seasons kept coming?? And they?? Didn’t stop?? Guys, I don’t know how many of you care about this but, Friends, one of the most popular sitcoms of all time that defined an entire generation had ten seasons. TEN. Supernatural is ending with fifteen! For an industry where most shows don’t make it past a pilot, let alone a season 1, this is INSANE. 

But now it’s ending. Even though a pandemic halted production just two episodes away from the finale, Supernatural is finally outta cassette tapes. The Wayward Sons may finally (??) be laying their wearied heads to rest (?? lol, I know).  

And frankly, 2020’s been a real sh*tshow so I thought “Why not?” 

And if I’m doing this and I’m not interacting with anyone on a human level, I might as well chronicle this epic dive into a time capsule of television because frankly, what the hell else am I doing? 

Cuz that’s what this is guys. 15 years in TV time is multiple lifespans. Shows are born, grow into something Emmy-worthy, and die in less time than Supernatural has been on the air. You know what else aired their pilot episode in 2005? The American version of The Office. You know when The Office ended? 2013. 

So let’s talk about pilots because that in and of itself may be a thing of the past not too far from now. 

Guys, I love pilots. I will probably say this a lot over the next, uhhhh...many months, but I love pilots and I love season ones, especially for a sci-fi and fantasy shows because that’s where your characters are at their most vulnerable, their most unsure. The writers and producers are really digging around, trying to figure out what the groundwork for this world is and there’s something so exciting about exploring it with them, as an audience. 

Pilot’s are great, pilots on spec are even better, and that’s a lot of what the Supernatural Pilot feels like. It’s got a real indie/guerilla-style horror movie vibe, like the crew scraped together just enough cash for that one special effect scene but had to skimp out on a lot of the other production stuff, and still managed to turn something around that is totally, 100% watchable and somehow more charming than if they’d had the budget to make something really polished? Go watch Night of the Living Dead (1968) and tell me that movie would have been better if they’d had a bigger budget. You could, but I won’t agree. 

Ok so a quick break down of technical terms. A television pilot is basically the first episode of a TV show. Well, that’s not exactly true. A pilot is kind of like making a sample or a blueprint of your show that you hand over to the television networks and say, here! This is what my TV show will look like. Will you pay me money to continue making it? And the networks (think ABC, NBC, CBS, FOX and The CW - remember, this is Network, not cable) will spend January through April of every year reviewing pilots and deciding if they want to pay you money to make more episodes. Well, every year except 2020. See: sh*tshow. Sometimes the network comes to you with an idea, or maybe, you’ve pitched your script/show to some executives and they buy in for that first pilot episode to see where things will go. Neither of these scenarios are a sure thing, and pilot season is always rife with will-they-won’t-they tension. In fact, if you’re working on the show, there’s a real possibility that pilot will get re-shot after studio notes, you’ll lose your job to someone the studio liked better, and then the show still may not get picked up. A pilot shot on spec is in even more of a limbo scenario because nobody asked for this! And just to follow through on Pilot Season - after the networks decide to buy your pilot, they then air the pilot at Upfronts (usually in May) where their many ad companies decide if they will pay money to air their ads during those shows. This is where we get things like prime time and key demographics - if you thought TV was all about the art, you are very wrong. TV, like most other industries, is still a business that’s about making money. 

Back to the Supernatural pilot. Now, from my research, series creator Eric Kripke had been working on the concept for 10 years. He was big into classic rock, big into urban legends and big into cowboys and all those things get married ever so neatly in this show. A lot of his initial ideas remain unchanged, at least for the first season - he wants two brothers, traveling across the country, facing off with America’s Spookiest Myths and legends. A lot of it did change. I honestly feel like I remember reading an early draft of the pilot where Sam and Dean are cowboys? But I’m also pretty sure I’m imaging that. What I’m not imagining is this ridiculous early draft where John’s been locked in an insane asylum, dies before the first episode starts, and Sam’s been living with an aunt and uncle his whole life and knows nothing. They still use something close enough to the La Llorona legend as the catalyst for the episode, but a lot of other things are changed. This is not the Sam and Dean we come to know and love. This is also a good example of when you SHOULD listen to notes, because this draft was rewritten after executive producer McG and his Wonderland Sound and Vision production company signed on, but before they actually shot the script. 

Now from what I’ve read, the WB picked the show up for (4) episodes initially, and ultimately picked it up for a full season of (22) episodes. This was, at the time, a pretty standard season and a pretty standard way to get it. They had a better deal than The Office, anyway, which only got picked up for (6) episodes in their first season, then got picked up four episodes at a time for season 2. 

Now let’s go over that paragraph one more time and talk about what a hecking DINOSAUR this show is - 

FIRST off - Supernatural premiered on THE WB. It PREDATES The CW!!

Man guys, you remember they had a frog as a mascot? Oof, that would not work today.

Secondly, it got 22 EPISODES. We’ll get into this some more when we talk about that evil bugs filler ep, but think about how many episodes were in the last show that you binged on Netflix? 8? Maybe 10?

Welcome to the exciting world of GRAPHS brought to you buy https://www.theringer.com/tv/2017/8/4/16094348/inefficiency-week-mourning-the-lost-long-tv-season

OH! And SPEAKING of Netflix and streaming services like them, they’re kind of killing pilot season AND upfronts. They pick up shows when they want to. They “air” them when they feel like. There are no ads because you pay for that content on a monthly basis and also they don’t even have commercial breaks. I am slowly seeing the passage of time in one (1) episode of television and I think I’ve aged 100 years. 

Here is just one of MANY articles about the death of Pilot Season 

Finally, and most importantly, this show got a better deal than The Office. And that show was an NBC primetime show. 

This show was nominated for 193 awards and won 50. And it ended when my nephew was still in kindergarten. He’s gonna be in high school next year. 

So what about this Supernatural Pilot? Was it any good? Honestly, I’m gonna say yeah. This is some very solid Hero’s Journey here. I think the only weird thing about it is that Sam is our Hero, our point of contact character that gets us into this world. And I only say that because I’ll be real up front and say that I’m a Dean girl through and through. I don’t hate Sam, but because we live in a world where we have to choose, it’s Dean 4Eva. 

From that early script draft, we learn the plan was for Sam to be in the dark and essentially be our audience stand in so that Dean can explain all the backstory. I think the decision to make John Winchester raise his kids as a weird fringe paramilitary outfit and establish Sam as the brother that tried to get away is a good one. It’s a very “Arrive Late” (or if you’re fancy, in media res,) sort of attitude and it works and you’ve already started building in the Atonement with the Father. There’s still some pretty excellent exposition dialogue, but what are ya gonna do. Sam, did you really need to explain to Dean that your collective father “raised you like warriors”? Or that you “kill everything we CAN find?” It’s fine. You’re beautiful and I love you. But also, he knows all that.

You have the Call to Adventure - Dean showing up and saying “Dad hasn’t been home in a few days.” You have the refusal of the call (“He’ll sleep it off”). You have your supernatural aid (hah!) giving Sam a push out the door - that’s Dean. You have your famous line that I quoted along with the TV - Dad’s on a hunting trip. And he hasn’t been home in a few days. 

The dead mom backstory seems pretty on the nose, but the “burned on the ceiling” concept was new and unique enough that I was intrigued to find out more. Listen, I’ve already admitted I don’t watch a lot of horror so if this has been done before, don’t @ me. 

La Llorona or Woman in White or Weeping Woman was a new trope to me at the time, so it too seemed fresh. I see that myth show up in a lot more Supernatural-type shows now, but in 2008, at 19, I was like, oh this is different. Not to mention - this definitely leaned in to the horror aspect. I know I’m a baby, but it aired at 9pm, which is the more adult side of Prime Time, so the WB thought it was too spooky for kids who had early bedtimes. So there. 

I HATE when they do this cuz it freaks me out EVERY TIME and THAT’S NOT EVEN HOW THESE MIRRORS WORK??? SHE’S NOT EVEN IN THE BACK SEAT IN THIS SHOT!

And then at the END, when Sam STILL refuses the call to adventure, you have the real Crossing of the Threshold - Jess is ALSO stuck on the ceiling, dead, and on fire. Spoiler alert, but they had to fridge her early to make the rest of the season work and so it shouldn’t be a big surprise. Sam’s all in and we get 21 more episodes of him and Dean and that car. 

Is it technically fridging if she’s lit on fire?

And let’s talk about Jess for a second cuz actress Adrianne Palicki is giving a LOT more in this performance than a fridged girlfriend should be required to. She’s likeable, she’s down to earth, she’s crushing it and and all this with only, like, two scenes of dialogue. I say this even though we meet her in a slutty nurse costume - COME on WB. 

WB what the hell is this wardrobe. What the HELL is THIS. 

In fact, all of the extras in this show are crushing it? Louis is instantly likeable and he disappears after his first scene, never to grace our TV’s again. And these extras in the town in Jericho, California - I kind of love them. As CW (or I guess, WB) as Jessica is, these extras look like they found them at the local highschool and I LOVE THEM FOR IT. They probably came to set already in makeup and wardrobe! They POSSIBLY brought their own jewelry! They’re weirdos and they are GREAT. I’m pretty sure this will NEVER happen again on this show because once the $$ came in, so did the more polished-looking one-off characters.

 Lookit these magnificent goth weirdos! And great news, both these actresses have very full, non-goth careers after this. 

Also, heckin’ Joseph Welch is just crushing it. This man has NOTHING CW about him and that’s maybe why I like him so much? Everything about the scene with him and Sam is pretty heartbreaking, from his rundown car graveyard to his rundown physique with his rundown accent to the fact that we never actually see his face. Seriously, really LOOK at this scene - WHAT is going on with this cinematography? Is this a reference to something? It’s SO bleached out and SO stark and WHAT is going on???

WHAT is this lighting? And also this guy was played by Steve Railsback was on X-Files!

You can’t talk about Supernatural without talking about the chemistry between Sam and Dean and that’s probably the real hook here? I mean a) very beautiful. I will probably talk about this a lot. Let’s call it what it is here, they’re beefcakes and they’re made for me and people like me. It is weird that this show is so macho but their primary audience was mostly there for the babes. And by babes I mean Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki. And b) they REALLY sell the whole brothers thing. They’re both from Austin, TX which feels like a weird coincidence. They were both already on WB shows before this one, also a weird coincidence. And they just click. They just do. It’s impressive, and occasionally creepy when we start to get into the Wincest of it all, but lets not talk about that.

Oh, and the MUSIC! The music just makes it. If you don’t believe me, watch the Netflix version of the first season and then find yourself a DVD version. See, TV shows need to acquire a license to play popular music during the show. Nowadays, the CW actually tags their songs in the episode so you can find and presumably buy it later, but they still have to pay royalties for using those pop songs. When Netflix acquired Supernatural, they did NOT acquire the licensing to use the classic rock songs from ACDC, Metallica, etc. and so you’re left with some pretty bland and generic production music that’s something like but not necessarily Back in Black. More like, Back in...Grey? This pun didn't work how I wanted it to. 

And the show just...doesn’t work? Like, who knew BACKINBLAAAAACK! Was so instrumental to whether I thought this was quality programming or not. Side note - it ruins my favorite piece of dialogue of maybe the entire series - 

Sam: I swear, man, you gotta update your cassette tape collection.

Dean: Why?

Sam: Well, for one, they're cassette tapes.

Do the young people even know what a cassette tape is? I AM the CRYPTKEEPER.

So yeah, you got a lot of ingredients to make something pretty great. Did we know then that it would launch a juggernaut of a television program that would still be on the air in the Year of Our Reckoning, 2020? I was a big fan of Firefly, so I was 99.99% sure this show was gonna get canceled at any second. In fact, I was thrilled, in 2008, to find there were two more seasons after the one I was currently watching. Of course, season 3 aired around the time of the great Writer’s Strike of ‘07, where nothing looked good and few programs survived, but we’ll get there. 

In a final, kind of spooky, almost premonition-type decision the WB actually decided to air this pilot episode a whole week early on Yahoo!. Yeah, you remember Yahoo!, right? The search engine that briefly tried to have its own original streaming content and then we all abandoned it in favor of the monster that is Google? Yeah. This episode premiered online. I haven’t done enough research, but I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say this was probably one of the first ever TV shows to start on the internet? Weird to think that was a novel and innovative concept at one time. 

So this is it. This is the end of the era. Are we gonna get any more shows that last as long as this one did? Who knows. Are we as a culture gonna care at that point? I don’t know. Our TV habits have changed so much in the last few years that it’s hard to say how we’ll watch TV in the future. But credit where it’s due, boys. Nice huntin’. 

[lovedsammy]

we walk through the fire; sam/castiel [commission for @avalonsilver]

Commission for @avalonsilver: Sam and Cas talk after the events of 15.09, and Sam reveals a large part of the reason that he couldn’t go through with the plan to give Cas the Mark.

Note: Just to forewarn you guys, there’s mentions of Saileen in this fic, since this is directly after Sam kissed her. I figured some of that had to be brought up before any kind of feelings between Sam and Cas could. So to let everyone know, this is NOT Saileen negative! I ship Saileen as well (though not as extensively, of course) and wanted to be as respectful as possible. I did not want to invalidate any feelings that are there between them, as per canon. I wanted this to be as realistic as possible. 

On that note, enjoy!

-

It shouldn’t have come as any surprise that he’d managed to find a way to let them down again. 

It was what he did best, after all. No matter how hard he tried, he had an incontrovertible ability to screw up, to disappoint the people that he loved most. Everything had come down to him, and Sam had been too weak-willed to go through with it. Neither Cas or Dean speak to him much on the ride back home, and Sam almost wishes that the ground would open up and swallow him. At least that way, he could avoid looking at their crushed, defeated faces. The bullet wound that had been throbbing for months suddenly doesn’t anymore. A quick glance down at his shoulder reveals no injury marring his flesh, only unblemished pale skin. He was, for all intents and purposes, physically whole again. The link between himself and Chuck was gone.

And yet he still felt impossibly tied to him, like a leashed dog, unable to break free of his master. Chuck’s hand was lazily holding the length of rope, giving him the choice to run. But it was only for show; Sam wouldn’t, because the fear kept him secured in place.

They’d reached a dead-end in how to handle Chuck, with no possible way out.  

It’s almost too similar to Lucifer, the extent of the corner that he’s been backed into. It reminds him all too much of the cave on the alternate earth, and how Lucifer had made him yield then, too. Or when he’d coerced Sam down into Hell, effectively trapping them together. Even as far back as Detroit, when the Devil had made Sam give up his own body, using him to kill and maim. And like Chuck now, always giving Sam a choice - but an impossible one, not ever really a choice at all. 

And never truly by his own will.

What Chuck had shown him…. Sam was sure that it was the truth. How could he not believe otherwise, after what he’d seen? He’s not sure that he would have fully been convinced of the visions Chuck had shared with him if it weren’t for the fact that the very reality he’d been trying to deny hadn’t been about to come to pass. Castiel, readying himself to take on the Mark… that had pulled the rug out from under Sam. It cemented it all, everything he’d seen, as reality. The horror of the inevitability of the future he was trying to fight, along with the fate of his friend, and later everyone else - it had made him pause. The blossom had been clenched in his fist and he’d been seconds away from grinding it to dust.

But he couldn’t. Not with what it would cost, what it would lead to.

Not if it meant losing Cas to himself, to the same dark impulses that had almost taken his brother from him. Losing Cas, right after losing his mother and Jack… it would be too much to bear.

So he’d fallen to his knees, submitting himself to Chuck’s twisted will and his own helplessness. 

Not long after they get back, and Sam’s changed out of his blood-stained shirt, he bids Eileen goodbye - yet another painful, awful choice - and closes his eyes, taking a bracing breath. His body feels like lead as he goes to find his brother and Cas, heavy and weighted. He doesn’t know how he will be able to look at them, much less try and explain what had happened, and why he’d forsaken them when they’d needed him the most. But somehow, standing in the archway, he finds the words. Surprisingly, it’s good enough for Dean, and seemingly, Cas, as well. They’d find a new way, together, just like they always did. And yet, even after his brother decides to call it a night, leaving him with a comforting pat on the cheek, Sam remains in the same position, staring at the floor. 

“Sam?” 

Cas is waiting for him to talk, to say what he has to. After eleven years of friendship, the angel knows him well enough by now to know when there was something else being left unsaid, and when Sam had something more that he needed to express. And like always, he was patiently waiting for whatever that was. Patience was the one thing that Cas did better than anyone else he’d ever known. Living for eternity (well, not always - Cas had died almost as many times as they had now) would do that, Sam surmises.

The horror of losing Castiel in the future had hit him much harder than he’d ever expected. He’d grieved Cas before, had lost him almost as much as he had Dean. But knowing he was gone, hearing the words from his future self, it had shattered his world. As he passed through each vision, Sam had carried the agony of Cas’s absence with him like the cloth clinging to his skin, attached to his very being.

Sitting in the car, hearing the words that Cas wasn’t there anymore… he’d felt like he couldn’t breathe.    

“I just couldn’t do it,” He rasps after an endlessly long moment when he’s sure that Dean is out of earshot. He slowly raises guilty eyes to fixate on Cas. “I’m sorry.”

Cas frowns at him, eyes soft. “It’s all right. You don’t have to explain it, Sam. If what he showed you was convincing enough to be true to you, then I’m inclined to agree that it is. In the end, I’m sure that you made the right choice.” 

There’s no judgment in Cas’s voice, but Sam feels the need to explain himself fully, anyway. He wants Cas to understand, to know just what it was that had scared him so badly. 

“The future that Chuck showed me,” He starts, slowly making his way over to the table. “Cas, I couldn’t do it because… not just because of Jody, and the world, or me and Dean and what happened with us. But also because of what happened to you.”

Cas nods slowly, looking nonplussed. “I died.” 

It’s not so much the words Cas says as it is the way the angel delivers them - without an ounce of surprise or horror, more of resignation. Sam jerks his head. When had they all stopped being affected at the prospect of their own deaths?

“No. You didn’t die, not technically. It’s worse, way worse.” With a watery exhale, he goes to sit down on the seat in front of the angel. His legs feel weak and unsteady, palms clammy with anxious sweat as he steels himself. “Cas… you took on the Mark of Cain. And after you did… just like Dean, you got worse and worse. Until you weren’t you anymore. After a while we, uh ... we had to lock you in the Malach Box. And it destroyed us. It destroyed me. So when I saw you come in holding that flower, it all made sense. It clicked for me. I knew it had something to do with the Mark. That was the future we were heading toward. And seeing you… I just… I couldn’t do it.”

Now Cas looks thunderstruck. He leans forward. “But the Mark shouldn’t have been able to overpower me like it did your brother. That is… concerning.”

“Exactly,” Sam says desperately. “But somehow it did. Don’t you see? The game was rigged from the beginning, man. No matter what plan we had, no matter how many steps ahead we thought we were, he would’ve made it cost us something - or everything. We’re riding a tidal wave, and there’s nothing to keep us from being pulled under.”

He takes a short pause and continues. “I just couldn’t lose you, Cas. Not to that future. Not like we lost Claire and Donna and Jody and everyone else. Losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever faced besides losing Dean or Jack. I still don’t know how I tried to keep going after that. Dean couldn’t. I just tried to tell myself that it would all be worth it in the end as long as we won. But it wasn’t. No future is a win if you’re not there, too.” 

Sam could swear that for a moment there was moisture in Castiel’s eyes. But he blinks and it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. Cas’s features are once again collected and smooth whereas Sam’s are twisted in sorrow. “Sam… even if that future came to pass for me, it wouldn’t have been the end for you. It still isn’t. You could still find a way to be happy. You’d still have Dean. You’d still have Eileen.”

It’s said without any hint of jealousy, or anger, or bitterness, and the mention of her makes Sam’s heart clench, and he swallows. He knows the significance of what it is Cas is telling him. Before the loss of Jack’s soul and Chuck’s dark reveal to them, he and Cas had been dancing around each other for months. They were always on the precipice of saying something, but the timing had never been right. And it’d hung silently between them, the chasm that both of them were too hesitant to cross. So when Eileen had shown back up, and she and Sam had started growing closer, he hadn’t at all missed Cas’s longing, sorrowful expressions when he saw the two of them together. Sam had just figured that whatever it was that had previously been brewing between himself and the angel had quietly dissolved after Cas left. So Sam had seen fit to move on, thinking that Cas had wanted to do the same. 

Castiel hadn’t, though. And now Sam was getting frustrated that the angel had not only done anything about it prior to this open acknowledgment but also still seemed intent not to.

“So that’s it?” Sam demands, without any real vigor, only sadness. “These past few weeks, what… you think I missed it, Cas? I saw you. I saw what it was doing to you. You can’t just make it clear to me how you feel now and then just expect me to forget that.” 

Castiel shrugs. “You’re happy when you’re with her, Sam. Dean even said as much. That’s something that I could never give you. But it’s everything that I could want for you.” 

Sam takes a moment to reflect on Cas’s words. “Had I not seen those visions, and we trapped Chuck, and we won… and Eileen and I… you would’ve still never really told me, would you?” He asks. “You would’ve seriously said nothing, and made me think that all the time we spent together never mattered?”

“I’m not saying that,” Cas replies gently, reaching out to grasp Sam’s hand across the table. “Of course it mattered. It still does, Sam. I just didn’t want to stand in the way of your happiness. You’ve already lost so much, and sacrificed so much. I couldn’t ask you to do it again. Eileen is a wonderful woman. She’s strong, smart, and has a very protective side to her when it comes to you.” 

Sam shakes his head. “It’s my choice to make, Cas. I feel something for Eileen. I really do. But she left, and she left because she doesn’t know how much of what we feel for each other has been manipulated by Chuck and what’s real. I know a little something about that, wondering what’s real and what’s not. And maybe one day, when we’re both sure, we can try again, and see what happens. But until then, it’s my decision to make about how I feel about other people. I already know how I feel about you, how I’ve always felt about you. And what that means.”

Cas’s thumb rubs smooth circles on Sam’s hand, and the edges of his lips quirk. “I don’t think Chuck has ever really cared about what direction I go in, or ever made a conscious effort to push me towards something or another. Unfortunately for him, that direction’s towards you.  Thank you, Sam.” 

“For what?” Sam croaks, his heart hammering in his throat.  

“For saving me from a fate worse than death,” The angel smiles. “I know that the weight of what you saw was horrible for you. I’m sorry you had to experience that. Your brother’s right, however. We are going to find another way to defeat Chuck, and hopefully not get killed in the process.” 

Sam doesn’t share the same positive outlook that Castiel does, but seeing the sparkle returning to the angel’s eyes makes him tempted to believe it. “I hope so,” He says, holding Cas’s hand a little tighter. “Because I can’t - I won’t - lose anything else. Not Dean, and not you.”

He wants to cling to the angel with everything he has, vengeful God be damned. 

[demonologist-in-denim]

TV Tropes and Crowley

There are plenty of narrative and character development tropes which could be ascribed to Crowley, especially after the cure-than-wasn’t at the end of the eight season of Supernatural.

During the final hours of the cure, with his soul on the verge of mending and his humanity being restored, Crowley experiences a Personal Horror (a trope in which a character is forced to see the horror of themselves and suffers from an alienation of self). His speech about deserving to be loved is its own variant on the Villainous Black Screen of Death (the heroes force a conscience on the villain and he suffers from the sudden overload of emotion and imposed morality). Though Crowley’s Oh God, What Have I Done (realizing the extent of the damage done) moment happens in between scenes, there is no doubt that it occurs, considering his questions to Sam about seeking forgiveness.

He might have had something resembling a Heel Realization (in which a character realizes they are a villain). Before the cure, Crowley was Neutral Evil (evil that serves only their own self-interests), and wasn’t interested in moral labels or concepts, only his own survival and advancement. The shock of the cure and sudden empathy – which requires some sense of the common good and thus morality – might have therefore led him to a version of a Heel Realization. It certainly resulted in Tears of Remorse in the form of a patented Winchester Single Man-Tear.

After the cure, Crowley was never again a typical Villain (surely no explanation needed), but rather found a balance between being an Anti-Villain (a character whose end goals are good – saving the world – but whose methods are monstrous or a character who is ultimately selfish, but will still do the right thing from time to time) and a Noble Demon (a villain who is noble, possesses a code of honor, fears being perceived as having “gone soft,” will save the hero from time to time, but still does monstrous things for their own ends).

It is increasingly obvious in the later seasons that Crowley no longer relishes his role as King of Hell, in the acquisition and torture of souls, or even in being a demon. He becomes a Tragic Villain (a villain that is aware that they are evil, but does not take – or no longer takes – pleasure in their evil deeds, even resenting being forced into the role of the villain). Damned to a hell of his own making by his past misdeeds and blood-born conscience, Crowley is also Trapped in Villainy (in which a reformed villain is unable to break away from the darkness due to external forces) out of fear that all of Hell will come after him should he abdicate. He also fears the loss of his amassed demonic power through Redemption Demotion (the lessening of the reformed villain’s powers to avoid ousting the heroes.)

Crowley suppressed his growing desire for human connection and redemption by considering himself beyond saving, declaring in his own way I’ve Come Too Far for there to be a way out of the dark. He may have felt this way both in that he was Beyond Redemption (where the hero – hello, Winchesters – declared the villain not worth saving), and succumbed to Sunk Cost Fallacy, believing that having damned himself and amassed all this power, he might as well use it for some semblance of good by keeping the demons in line and the world from ending - or else it’s all been for nothing.

And he certainly made (discreet) attempts at playing the role of the Noble Demon. In Season 9, Even though Crowley had self-interested reasons for turning Dean into a demon (other than, you know, saving him from death), he still empathized with Dean’s exhibited self-hatred as a demon. Demon!Dean avoids his own What Have I Become? moment (a post-human panic when a character is made less than human by becoming a monster or supernatural being), but Crowley surely knew Dean was suffering in becoming the thing the Winchesters had always hated and hunted. Saving Castiel in Season 9, attempting to stop Ramiel, hunting the Hellhound with the boys, fighting Lucifer – over and over throughout the later seasons, Crowley proved himself when there was A Friend In Need (in this case, the anti-villain or noble demon helps the hero, even though it might cost them).

Crowley’s relationship with his mother, Rowena, was understandably fraught with tension and complicated emotions. Had she not been so manipulative and self-serving in the beginning, it might have been a case of Even Bad Men Love Their Mamas (villains having a soft spot for their mothers), considering how desperate Crowley was for human connection and affection. Rowena’s abusive ways instead resulted in a Villainous Mother-Son Duo (a villainous mother uses her son as a pawn to further her own ambitions, is often verbally abusive, and the son often plots his mother’s demise). 

What Crowley ultimately develops with the Winchesters and their angel is the relationship of True Companions (a found family of characters that may not like each other  initially, but come to rely upon each other, with a bond deeper than friendship but not necessarily romantic). Teeth-Clenched Teamwork (enemies or former enemies being forced to team up for a common goal) eventually gave way to a Fire-Forged Friendship (enemies or strangers becoming fast friends through a shared experience of strife), particularly with Dean. By the end of Season 12, Crowley was on the verge of becoming One Of The Boys. 

At the core of Crowley’s struggle was the reality that Hope is Scary (a character’s emotional numbness dissolves, allowing hope to be restored, but with it, the fear of loss and pain). What Crowley wanted – human connection, emotional depth, a fulfilling purpose – were all possibilities. Perhaps he could have made amends. Perhaps the Winchesters would have accepted him as one of them, given Crowley their trust and friendship. Perhaps he didn’t have to be a monster any longer. He could strive to be a better version of himself. But there was also the very real possibility that he would be rejected by the Winchesters, that he couldn’t become that better version. Crowley feared he might attempt redemption, only to realize he would never be worthy of it.

His fear of never being worthy or forgiven were confirmed by Sam’s Heel-Face Door-Slam (the villain attempts or openly desires redemption, only to be brutally rejected by the hero) in Season 10. In the face of this rejection, Crowley chose Then Let Me Be Evil (after being ascribed the label of evil by the hero, a character defiantly embraces that fate). And that might have been the end of Crowley’s road to redemption.

Instead, Crowley became the Friendly Enemy (a villain who shares significant emotional experiences with a hero, forming a lasting and profound connection that surpasses their initial hostilities). Crowley and the Winchesters often employed Enemy Mine (previous enemies or lesser rivals join forces against a greater threat) as a rational for this arrangement, and Crowley often got the shaft as The Friend Nobody Likes (just what it says; Crowley falls into the “Care” subset of this trope). Crowley’s continued involvement with the Winchesters could have be due to a Villainous Crush (a villain has secret romantic feelings for a hero). He hid his growing admiration and affection for the Winchesters and their angel through Insults of Endearment (Moose and Squirrel, respectively), and was unequivocally on the verge of a Face Realization (a character realizes they are no longer the villain they had been) and committing to a full Heel-Face Turn (a former villain openly joining the heroes).

So why didn’t that happen for Crowley? Because for some characters, Redemption Equals Death (redemption comes at the cost of one’s life). To make amends for his actions, save the world, spit in the eye of Lucifer, and finally earn the respect of the Winchesters, Crowley sacrificed himself at the end of Season 12. In an unusual pairing, Redemption Equals Death for Crowley was also paired with Death Equals Redemption (a character’s death redeems them in the eyes of other characters), in that the Winchesters spoke well of Crowley after his death, even including him in a prayer for restoration.

Crowley’s death was characterized by the Villain’s Dying Grace (a dying villain choses to commit a final good act, often saving the hero or the world), in that he died believing he was saving the world, protecting the Winchesters, sealing the rift, and locking Lucifer away forever in an apocalyptical alternative universe. He Faced Death With Dignity (a character takes control over their own death, faces it with dignity, and gives meaning to their final moments), even offering the Winchesters and Lucifer a final Dying Smirk (proving to have the upper hand even in dying) – even when I lose, I win.

Redemption Equals Death is a lousy trope. And lazy writing. Actual redemption is a long, hard road that involves emotionally difficult work, repairing relationships, shifting personal values, making amends. Living with what one has done, and attempting to be a better version of one’s self, is much more difficult – and much more fulfilling – than making a grand gesture and then escaping into death.  Supernatural surely had its reasons for Crowley’s character arch culminating in Redemption Equals Death – Seasons 14 and 15 could be used to make the argument that Chuck was already having a hard time with Castiel being one of the boys, and didn’t want to add Crowley to the Band of Brothers (a group of people dedicated to each other before all other considerations). Death, however, wasn’t the only option for this reformed Villain. 

Working with the Winchesters to close the Gates of Hell and join Team Free Will on a more open, permanent basis, Crowley could have transitioned from a Friendly Enemy into the Token Evil Teammate (serves as an amoral balance to the heroes, willing to perform unpleasant-if-practical tasks to save the world, and often employs snarkiness). In saving souls rather than damning them, and through the Power of Friendship (having friends makes you stronger than you are alone), Crowley might have discovered that being Good Feels Good (acting morally has its own emotional and social benefits). And he could have actively prevented the Winchesters from falling further into the trap of He Who Fights Monsters (a hero becoming the monster they seek to destroy through close association or behavior). Given his massive reserves of influence, expertise, finances and resources, Crowley most likely would have received a Redemption Promotion (an ineffectual villain discovers they are an extremely effective hero), earning his place among the Winchester’s Band of Brothers and reinforcing Good Feels Good.

That’s not to say that it would have been easy, or without complications. There would certainly have been some cases of Reformed, But Rejected (heroes refuse to believe the sincerity of a villain’s redemption arc). There may have been a case of the Enemy Within (a hero carries evil within themselves, which can rise up to control or influence them), as Crowley’s demonic nature clashed with his developing humanity. He might have worried about reverting to his more demonic self, and given Dean instructions to end him before that happens, as he would be better off Dying As Yourself (a final moment of control or being the good self before the corruption or evil takes over) - which Dean would gruffly refuse with Don’t Say Such Stupid Things (harsh reassurance of worth and affection). Crowley might have perceived his increasing humanity, and potentially the necessity of completing the cure, as Redemption Equals Affliction (villain is redeemed but suffers a meaningful loss to earn that redemption). After all, every one of the Winchester’s Band of Brothers suffer from some emotional anguish. In the end, it wouldn’t have mattered if Crowley became human or stayed a demon, so long as he was family, receiving the time-honored You Are Better Than You Think You Are (reassurance from other characters that one is good and making a significant attempt to be or remain good) from his True Companions - preferably in a Winchester-esque Chick Flick Moment.

As One of the Boys, Crowley could have been a gruff, snarky Atoner (a reformed Villain on a path of redemption, motivated by guilt and the desire to make the world – and themselves – better, and to utilize their powers and resources for good), combined with The Snark Knight (the world-weary, embittered, overly-intelligent and anti-social hero). Crowley may have chosen the path of the Ascended Demon (a reformed demon seeking the restoration of humanity) in obtaining the full restoration of his soul or his human nature. As an Ascended Demon (I prefer the term “risen” for Supernatural, to counterbalance angels “falling”), Crowley might even have decided to hunt down and kill – or cure – other demons. Regardless of how Crowley himself would have eventually come to define his own redemption and his place among the Winchesters, he would have stumbled headlong into being counted among The Fettered (those that believe in and serve a certain set of ideals or a moral code), committed to The Family Business of saving people and hunting things – if on his own terms and with the requisite amount of snark.

[waywardmaslow]

https://screenrant.com/supernatural-sam-winchester-biggest-problems-fans-ignore/

Just my thoughts on the items on this list:

20) “He’d be happier if he wasn’t a hunter.” Sam only resented the hunting life while he was growing up. His return to hunting after his time at Standford was not forced, but by choice. He’s always wanted to get out and live a normal life, we see that mentioned in the earlier seasons, and I believe a part of him will always want that, but in the later seasons of the show it’s become clear that Sam has accepted that’s a life he’ll never be able to have.

19) “He keeps getting resurrected.” That’s hardly a problem. If Sam was killed and never brought back, that’d be the end of the show. And since resurrections are never without a significant risk/price to pay–like Dean selling his soul to save Sam–the stakes are most definitely still real.

18) “The ‘Special Children’.” Azazel’s plan for his “special children” not making sense is more of a plot hole than a problem with Sam. As for “Lucifer never went through with that plan,” he never had the chance to, all the “special children” aside from Sam were dead long before he was released. Unless you’re saying that because you think Azazel was following orders from Lucifer when he rounded up the “special children” in that ghost town and pitted them against each other.

17) “When he didn’t sacrifice himself for Dean.” Sam didn’t know Dean was in Purgatory/somewhere he could be saved from. He thought Dean was dead, like actually dead, heaven or hell dead. And if that had been true, Dean wouldn’t have wanted Sam to try to bring him back. While Dean was “somewhat justifiably” upset that Sam didn’t look for him and try to bring him back, I must point out that he would’ve been upset with Sam no matter what he did. If Sam had looked for Dean and tried to save him, getting him back from Purgatory wouldn’t have been without a major risk, one Dean definitely would’ve been upset with him for taking.

16) “His relationship with Ruby.” Sam is smart, but he is also someone who knows the world isn’t all black and white. He sees the shades of grey and knows it’s not what you are, it’s what you do that matters. Not all “monsters” are evil. He believed he saw some good in Ruby, but of course that didn’t mean Sam trusted her right off the bat, he was just using her. He told Dean that in season 3. Then at the beginning of season 4, he told Ruby he wasn’t sure if he trusted her; he just knew he was doing good things with the powers she was showing him how to use, he was saving people. So I think it was more trusting those results, believing in the good he was doing, than trusting her. And then it was depending on her for the demon blood that he believed he needed to be strong enough to take down Lilith, but had become addicted to. Also, it’s worth mentioning, she didn’t really get her hooks in Sam till Dean was in hell, when Sam was at his lowest and far from sober.

15) “He ended Dean’s daughter.” Ok what is it with you and other fans trying to make Emma more significant than she really was, make Sam killing her a bigger deal than it was? I’d guess you’re Dean girls reaching for something to dislike Sam for, but I’ve even seen a(n alleged) Sam girl try to play up Emma’s importance. As if she was supposed to mean anything more to us than just another MOTW, as if Dean felt anything more for her than responsibility. She was an Amazonian woman who wanted to kill Dean. End of story. Even Dean himself, at the end of the episode, called her a crazy man-killing monster. She may have been Dean’s daughter biologically, but she wasn’t family. Remember “Family don’t end with blood, but it doesn’t start there either,” and “Just because you’re blood, doesn’t mean you’re family; you have to earn that.”

14) “Drinking demon blood.” Drinking demon blood wasn’t something Sam was comfortable with at first, but he eventually accepted it as a means to an end, to being strong enough to kill Lilith. Something he was hell bent on doing. Sam’s not dumb, he knew it was risky, that’s why he was trying his best to be careful and not take it too far. I think what pushed him over the edge into addiction was the amount of blood he felt he had to consume in order to save Dean from Allistair. Allistair was the same kind of demon as Lilith, with white eyes, and just as strong. In prepping to take him down, Sam would’ve drunk more blood than he had been before. Sam felt Dean’s life was in danger and we all know he’d do anything to save Dean from getting killed.

13) “His demonic powers.” I don’t really see that as a problem, aside from the resulting demon blood addiction, since he was using those powers to save people. Drinking demon blood didn’t give him those powers, it just made them stronger. Sam had the powers already due to the demon blood already in his system, no thanks to Azazel, he just had to be taught how to use them. And although his powers were significantly drained/weakened in killing Lilith, it’s likely they’re still there lying dormant beneath the surface. Sam has just chosen not to use them anymore because even though he liked the effectiveness of saving people that way, he no longer trusts that part of himself. To be fair, though, it’s also possible Sam himself believes his powers are gone, but he wouldn’t know for sure unless he tried to use them and he hasn’t.

11) “He started the apocalypse.” While you try to paint Sam as less smart than the show leads us to believe, allow me to remind you that he wasn’t the only one who believed killing Lilith would prevent the apocalypse, Dean and Bobby believed it too. So much so that they were all for finding a way to kill Lilith themselves so Sam wouldn’t have to do it with his powers. Dean did eventually find out the truth about the final seal, but that wasn’t until the last minute so that’s hardly relevant. Their intel on the matter may have come from a demon, but the logic behind it was sound(when you ignore the fact that Ruby wasn’t being totally honest about what the final seal was) and you know it. Hell, I still stand by the belief that killing Lilith would’ve prevented the apocalypse, they just had to get to her before the other seals were broken. That would explain why Ruby would disappear for periods of time and constantly tell Sam he wasn’t ready/strong enough to take on Lilith, even though after it was all said and done she told him he “never needed the feather to fly.” She was stalling.

8) “He’s the only Winchester who hasn’t made a deal with a demon.” So what? That’s actually a good thing, though he still ended up spending time in hell. He did try to make a deal though, to save Dean from hell, but no demon would deal.

7) “He was stronger than Lucifer.” Sam being able to overpower Lucifer and recover control of his body isn’t as implausible as it may seem. Especially given the demon blood in his veins, as well as the multiple gallons of demon blood that he drank just before letting Lucifer in and how strong/powerful that would’ve made him. That’s not to say he was actually stronger than Lucifer, just strong enough to get control back for long enough to open the cage and throw himself in.

5) “He recovered from the cage way too fast.” Sam may have recovered from worst of the PTSD(the hallucinations and resulting insomnia) within one season–because of Cas shifting the burden onto himself–but his memories of the cage do still bother him to this day. In fact, the memory of seeing Lucifer’s true face still keeps Sam up at night. His PTSD from the cage doesn’t get the attention it did in season 7, but it is still there.

4) “Soulless Sam.” Just because it hadn’t been a thing on the show before, doesn’t mean it could never be a thing on the show. Also, the concept of being soulless did get explored again; both in season 9(with Abbadon having souls harvested to create a demon army) and in season 11(with Amara consuming souls). Hell, we still have a soulless character on the show today: Donatello!

3) “He has no friends of his own.” Yeah, it’s true most of the brothers’ friends are closer with Dean, but they do care about Sam and have his back. It’s not as if he’d have no one to turn to if he left the hunting life/went off on his own.

2) “He likes 80s hair metal.” And that’s a problem? Sam’s allowed to have a different music taste than Dean. It’s not a bad thing.

[vvivacious101]

Regarding Cas and Dean

I’m falling down a rabbit hole so deep less than 33 hours before Season 15 premieres. I was thinking about Cas and Dean and then I was rewatching Season 1 and then I was reading this amazing meta about season 5 and then 7 and then I was fast-forwarding through season 7 and 8 to go through all the Dean and Cas scenes while then getting bombarded with truly delicious speculation regarding season 15. It’s too much I can’t bear it. It was so much that for a brief moment in time it was my absolute reality and the best feeling in the world. God, this single season a single moment in this entire season will define it in its entirety and I have no idea where the pendulum swings. Though in the deepest depths of my heart I’m a true believer, I still need to keep my head a little sceptical if I don’t want to go bat shit crazy. It’s even crazier to realise that by this time next year I will know everything there is to know about this story and I have no idea what my heart will be filled with then and it will be too much if it is regret. It’s making me crazy.

I wasn’t even thinking about the premiere till like the 5th when it suddenly became the only thing I could think about. I feel like I almost want the time to get here already when I get to watch it because once I do atleast that will be one thing less to worry about and we can finally get settled for the long haul when this feeling will probably return with full force in March. I know I said this before when they announced that this would be the last season and I felt bereft like there would be something missing from my life when this show got over even though at the time of that announcement season 14 wasn’t even over yet. That feeling is hitting me hard right now, it’s killing me.

Especially the question that is Destiel. I have been thinking a lot about these two because the resolution to this single relationship is going to define television history. We will finally know once and for all.

Supernatural loves Dean and Cas because it can’t seem to figure out a way to break the dynamic but it also loves yoyoing with these two and their feelings. It’s almost like for some reason every time Dean and Cas seem to be headed towards the same page somebody changes the book and they have to repeat the process all over again.

So, let’s go back to the beginning the very beginning.

Season 4

Dean and Cas meet for the first time at the end of Lazarus Rising that is episode 4x01 in what will go done as one of the most iconic scenes in television history. You might not remember the details but you can still remember the way that scene made you feel. It was gloriously intense and there is just so much happening in it. It was the scene that launched a thousand ships. On a deeper level, this scene is already laying down the foundation of Dean and Cas’ relationship. But for my purposes, we don’t need to go very deep. On the surface what this scene really is, is antagonistic. Dean tries to kill Cas from the moment he lies eyes on him then he proceeds to deride him and not believe him only for Cas to then hit a nerve. Dean is caught off guard and clearly has no faith in Cas because he spends the very next scene arguing against the existence of angels with Sam.

In 4x02 Dean and Cas again meet at the end of the episode. This scene is different in a way, Dean is so caught off guard that he is extremely raw and vulnerable and he is also being extremely true. This scene ends with Cas threatening Dean and taken together with the previous scene seems to depict a trend of rising antagonism between Dean and Cas. It becomes increasingly apparent that things can go one of two ways weather Dean yields or Dean breaks.

Then comes episode 4x03 “In the Beginning”. Dean and Cas share 5 scenes in this episode. With the first three scenes ending on the same note with Dean asking a question and Cas metaphorically hanging up the phone on Dean. The fifth scene of this episode ends with Cas threatening Dean were it hurts - Sam. These three scenes at the end of the first three episodes of season 4 showcase a trend with Cas being increasingly aggressive towards Dean. But 4x03 doesn’t have 4 Dean and Cas scenes it has 5. The fourth scene is just a few seconds long but it is the most significant moment in Dean and Cas’ history. This is the moment that changes the trajectory of their entire relationship. See for yourself.

The moment when Dean and Cas look into each others’ eyes is a moment that is truly indescribable because in these few second there is so much happening. Dean is vulnerable and he is looking for assurance and he gets that assurance and support from Cas who has the gentlest expression on his face. This scene is significant because following this Dean starts calling Castiel Cas and the next time Dean and Cas see each other Cas will be the one expressing doubts. When I said I saw this going two ways I didn’t anticipate the fact that Cas could be the one to yield.

This scene is significant, it is a turning point for Dean and Cas, for the season and for the entirety of Supernatural. 

But, you see Supernatural loves to muddy the waters so it follows this milestone of an event by a threat which has immediate repercussions. It takes your focus off but still when you see Dean and Cas in 4x07 you don’t question the fact that all of a sudden Cas is no longer aggressive towards Dean. There are two scenes between Cas and Dean this episode. The first one is special because in the first nine scenes Cas has on this show all nine also feature Dean and eight of them feature no one other than Dean. But, the first scene between Dean and Cas in 4x07 also has Sam and Uriel. In a scene in which Dean and Cas constantly forget there are other people around. At one point of time, Cas steps up to Dean and reminds him that his decision could result in Hell on Earth and Sam replies offscreen because the focus is still on Dean and Cas. Dean’s expression seems like he was caught off guard but Cas he doesn’t even move his gaze off Dean like during the entire time Sam is speaking up Dean atleast flicks a glance at him and Sam is behind Dean so it’s not like looking back is convenient but the guy it is convenient for doesn’t flick a glance. At another point in the same scene, Cas talks to Uriel without moving his gaze off of Dean’s face. And this is were association comes in by this point we have started associating Cas with Dean to the exclusion of all else there is already a bond forming between these two characters. And the next scene in this episode showcases just that, Cas has doubts, has questions and he reveals this secret to Dean. Cas is an angel for an angel displays of emotions are tantamount to treason and Cas is committing a crime but he already trusts Dean with his deepest darkest secret, a secret that will later in this very season result in torture for Castiel.

The next time we see Castiel we see SPN at work trying to dissociate Dean and Cas as they are now in direct conflict in a scene that starts at the end of 4x09 and continues into the beginning of 4x10. They try to do this by bringing in Anna who is an angel and also a love interest for Dean. As Anna comes into the picture all of a sudden Cas and Dean don’t seem to have much to share especially in the face of a canon love interest and this is were the show seems to contradict itself, because at a point when Dean and Cas’ relationship seems pretty insignificant we have Uriel tell Dean this.

Dean: Don’t normally see you off leash. Where’s your boss?

Uriel: Castiel... Oh! He’s... He’s not here. You see he has this weakness, he likes you.

Then in a later scene in the same episode, we have the awkwardest exchange in all of history. Anna kisses Dean in front of Sam, Cas and Uriel. This kiss is really weird especially because Cas doesn’t avert his gaze the entire time they are kissing. This kiss makes you uncomfortable. Anna and Dean feel wrong.

Now, this is where I am going to say this SPN does seesaw on Dean and Cas but it never consistently tries to rid itself of the dynamic thus invariably becoming the very reason it exists. So after a while, it seems pretty implausible that the creators have no idea what they are doing, even if Cas is seeing Anna kiss Dean why is the focus solely in Cas’ face there are two other people in the room. It doesn’t end here we have Cas at the mercy of Alastair and all of a sudden Dean who is in on the plan of letting Heaven and Hell fight it out suddenly risks his life to save Cas from Alastair. This is significant both ways Alastair is Dean’s tormentor and Cas is Dean’s saviour so he is literally choosing to save himself from all the torment he has faced. Secondly, Dean might be repaying his massive debt to Cas by saving him but the fact that in doing so he has to stand up to a demon who tortured him makes this rather off-focus scene significant. Thirdly, maybe at this point, we can safely say Dean likes Cas and is willing to save him even when their goals don’t align.

There is a little season featuring these two in a small scene in 4x15.

Dean: What the hell?

Cas: Guess again

Dean: It was you. If you wanted our help, why the hell didn't you just ask?

Cas: Because whatever I ask, you seem to do the exact opposite

Dean: These are good people. Don't you think you could make a few exceptions?

Cas: To everything there is a season

Dean: You made an exception for me

Cas: You're different

It is not significant from their relationship’s POV but I would like to point out 15 episodes into the season and there isn’t a single Cas seen that also doesn’t feature Dean and with the exception of just three scenes these scenes haven’t featured anyone except Dean.

4x16 is the first time Cas grows as a character and shares scenes with other characters for the very first time. This is also a Cas-centric episode. The episode starts with Uriel ordering Cas to torture Alastair for information but when they get to the location Dean wants to talk to Cas alone. This is the first time we see Dean express concern for Cas and Cas manages to convince Dean to torture Alastair something Dean does with a very heavy heart but something he also does because Cas and specifically Cas asks him to. The last scene of this episode is absolutely heart-breaking because I don’t think that Dean has ever been this vulnerable in front of any character before. Dean is a tough guy who believes the motto “fake it till you make it” and for the first time, that facade is stripped clean and revealed.

In 4x18 we have Dean pray for the first time and Cas sees it as a sign of faith personally it seems more like faith in Cas then in Heaven as a whole and this is exactly when you know things are different. Dean is more invested in Cas then in the entire concept of Heaven. Also, this episode is where we have Cas slyly helping Dean which is so amazing because it starts cementing Dean and Cas as a team.

So just when they establish Dean and Cas as a team guess what the next episode these two characters star in is about. Of course, it’s about breaking the dream team. This episode is significant because if Dean had just gotten to Cas on time a whole lot of pain could have been averted but of course, that’s not the story. Dean and Cas are back to their starting points and that’s exactly what I meant by Dean and Cas relationship just yoyo-ing all over the place. In season 4, it has always been two steps forward and four steps back. This is going to change in the season finale with Cas taking a stand that is going to cement this relationship but season 4 while amazing isn’t the perfect Destiel season. That’s coming. Also, given what we learn in season 8 it is apparent Castiel has undergone re-education.

In the very next episode, we again have Dean express concern about Cas’ wellbeing and we have Cas recruit Dean into Heaven’s service the very thing he was going to stop but we don’t know this at this time.

Season 4 starts something that is going to define Cas and Dean’s behaviour and that is the held gaze. Cas and Dean hold gazes for seconds on end and in 4x21 they break their own personal record.

4x22 is EPIC. It is. It is an amazing episode but let’s be honest I only care about Cas and Dean at this point. This episode has Dean convincing Cas to betray and disobey Heaven and he does it not two episodes after he was severely reprimanded for his emotions which apparently are doorways to doubt. Cas literally blasts the script and throws about the pieces. At this point, you can’t argue how much of an impact Dean has on Cas like convincing an angel to rebel. It’s not even about what he does but how he does it. Lots of eye contact in this one. There is this one particular moment when Cas has his gaze turned away from Dean something that I really think hasn’t happened till this point and Dean dips his head to catch Cas’ gaze and kind of makes him turn his head os that they are making eye contact again and it is such a subtle thing but it is so there. What does it even mean? I don’t think I have ever seen two characters behave this way then when Cas decides to do the deed he comes barging in and knocks Dean into a wall covers his mouth and just holds his gaze. I couldn’t get a single thing from Cas’ eyes but apparently, Dean learns an entire plan from looking into them. I mean I guess he has had a lot of practice. One more thing I would like to mention is that when Zach reminds Dean he swore obedience to Heaven and its angels and Dean looks towards Cas, at that moment it is pretty clear Dean wasn’t thinking when he made that oath because he literally made it to Cas and only to him when he sees his oath extrapolated to include Zach he isn’t happy in fact you can almost say he feels betrayed. Then in the last scene of this episode that they share together, we have Cas say that he is making it up as they go along and Dean looks at him with like so much awe. That was definitely something.

Season 4 is a lot of fun to revisit because well it is the season that gave birth to Destiel and it is fun because these two share a lot this season. It was the first time Dean is in so much conflict with Sam and he is actively kind of embracing whatever he and Cas share as a crutch to hold himself up. But this is still the baby stages, there is a lot of fun to come.

[satan-chillin]

The Path to Redemption is a Winding One

Summary: Rowena dies at the hands of Sam Winchester in all accordance with their entwined destiny. Let it be said that her afterlife is neither Heaven nor Hell, but rather back in the year 2004 where the first Apocalypse is on the works, and with all her previous memories intact.

Warnings: Trigger warning for graphic description of torture. 

Notes: 

It’s a time-travel fix-it fic, dearies.

It’s a 20k words fic, so yes, it’s a long ass read.

The fic is also written long before the 15x03 “The Rupture” episode so don’t expect it to be 100% canon-compliant. 

Also, this is a Gabriel/Rowena fanfic with mentions of SamWitch/Samwena that’s why it’s posted under the SamWena/SamWitch tag. It ain’t a Sabriwena, nor is it a triangle. Sorry, chiefs, but I do hope you enjoy this for the Rowena content alone. :)  

Don’t worry, I’m planning to write a SamWena/SamWitch time-travel fix-it too. 

Also available in Ao3 & FF.net 

Rowena was no stranger to death.

She had had her encounters throughout the centuries, but there were only three deaths she deemed significant. This was the third; an expected one, in fact, since two years ago when she was told who would have done her for good. It hardly came as a surprise that it would be Sam because a witch dying by the hands of either Winchester wasn’t exactly news. Rowena took comfort knowing who would it be, and she supposed there could be worse candidates (i.e., Lucifer in whatever vessel). A girl couldn’t really choose who would kill her, but, morbidly it might sound, she lucked out that it would be by Sam Winchester’s hands.

What she wasn’t expecting, however, was the bond that formed between the two of them, how their shared trauma paved a way for the tentative understanding that in turn formed an occasional alliance. The trust came in last, brought by desperation and necessity that had her make decisions she would hardly consider a year ago. Rowena hated it, at first, that this huge lumbering man could make her uncharacteristic. She blamed it at her prolonged exposure to the brothers that she likened to letting a wound fester bare to infection until she was forced to live with it, to live with the knowledge that she was inching closer to the Winchesters’ inner circle.

Rowena had kept her distance when she came to understand how Fergus had become lapdog to the brothers. Rowena never felt the need to justify her actions before, and yet there was something satisfying to be in the side of good—at least, the Winchester brand of ‘good’ that was primarily concerned with the safety of many. For all her claims that the brothers owed her, Rowena liked the feeling of giving her natural talents as an aid. It had felt like an accomplishment.

She remembered Sam’s knowing look, and he understood.

Rowena pretended to be reluctant, but she was always there. She was there when there was an alternate universe with people that needed saving; she was there when Dean was ridden by an archangel equally as terrible as Lucifer; she was there when Jack was close to dying; she was there when Jack lost his soul; she was there when God left the world to ruin. Rowena was there until the end that brought pretty much everyone together.

And against her better judgment allowed herself to grow close to the Winchesters Bunch who was bad news.  

Rowena observed how the dynamic of the Winchester brothers worked with their resident angel and noted that each shared varying degrees of relationship with each other. She learned that Castiel, while he treated himself as the guardian of the brothers, was more prone to exchange his life for Dean than Sam. She hadn’t been privy to the exact nature of the connection between the older Winchester and the angel, though she had noticed the subtle—blatant, in her opinion—signs that hinted stronger affections that surpassed that of mere friendship. What was ridiculous that it went both ways that had the person in the nearest vicinity of the two, usually the younger Winchester, painfully overwhelmed at all the unrepentant eyesex.

While the exchange had been around for an uncomfortably long time, it had an unforeseen consequence of Sam drawing nearer to the first person also left out of the Dean-Castiel loop: her.

Unlike his brother, Sam found it mandatory to connect with the people in their side, and often Rowena was his target, thinking that she might not have fitted in a group largely composed of hunters who would have hunted her kind if not for the present end of times then. Rowena didn’t indulge him with the knowledge that he assumed right, instead reveled on the unspoken sort of protection that came with being a trusted and proven ally of the Winchesters for some years, reluctant or otherwise.     

The thing was, Rowena wasn’t expecting the small talks and sharing of secrets during sleepless nights, where there was also a point in time that talking about Lucifer included making fun of him. Sam was a naturally curious lad who asked several things about the 17th century on some evenings, and there were questions about how Rowena maneuvered through the witch trials, the subject which usually led to memorable anecdotes and informal lectures on little tricks that someone of Sam’s skill could manage when in a tight spot.

During the small spaces of free time when they weren’t both poring over thick volumes, Sam had the irrational habit to take her words personally, always under the notion that Rowena was telling him her deepest secrets and feelings; they weren’t, or at least, she thought they were not. Sam must have noticed the sincere fondness in her expression when recounting about Fergus in his wee age, when she spoke of her eagerness to learn and prove herself to be the strongest witch in her youth, when she told him what made her immortality worth it, and when she shared about the places in the world she would like to see again after all this, if she survived this.

Rowena remembered how Sam’s large hand gently squeezed her small ones and promised her that she would, that they would. Together.       

And the fool that she was for a strong and honest man who liked making promises, Rowena believed. She relished in the fact that Sam told her numerous experiences in and out of hunting, of his encounters with various women who usually met unfortunate ends as if talking to Sam alone sealed their fates. She heard about a special woman named Jessica that Sam still held dearly in his heart and whose passing was dulled with time and the deaths of the demons responsible for her death. Rowena knew of this; after all, she had read Chuck’s books and had muddled through the terrible writing to get information before, but hearing the words came from Sam himself was quite different, especially when hearing bits and pieces that weren’t included in those Chuck-forsaken books.  

She caught herself wondering one night if Chuck would write her as a rather disposable character whose intelligence and a strong sense of self-preservation she used to have pride in decayed overtime after allowing herself to grow close to the person she should have avoided in the first place. Mayhap she was finally the vapid heroine that starred in cheesy novels.

Though if Rowena was to be a character in a book, she would like to think it was in a work of tragedy of epic proportions, especially when the last passage of her story was about her and a killing blow delivered by none other than Sam Winchester.

Personally, Rowena approved of the choice: a knife in the heart was the most intimate manner of death by a man that she could think of, and trust Samuel Winchester to make the affair poignant and, pun intended, very close to the heart.

What ruined it was Sam’s profuse whispers of apologies, cradling her close and his face hovering over her as he spilled ungodly manly tears. The old her would have found such display irksome, that she wasn’t someone worth mourning over, but she was that woman no longer, was she? Enough that something affectionate in her regretted that Sam Winchester ended up with another blood on his hands, that she would be leaving him like this, emotionally vulnerable and raw. Belatedly, Rowena thought that maybe she should have kept up the evil, bitter, and petty skank image, just so Sam wouldn’t blame his lonesome self for finishing who he now considered a friend that he promised he would bend his fate for.

Rowena wasn’t stranger to death, but this wasn’t as simple as the previous two, was it?  It wasn’t about the finality of it at all but rather on the person who was on the other side of it.

Touching his cheek was a chore after the immense bleeding, but Rowena hated that Sam would cry over this, over her, a less significant character compared to Chuck’s protagonists. For all they knew, Chuck could be writing the scene with the need to finish a character that overstayed its welcome; or probably for additional angst; or perhaps he didn’t know what to do with Rowena’s role in the story; it could be out of keeping tradition of killing off the female who connected with Sam Winchester; it could have been plain boredom while Chuck watched his story unfold.

If Rowena was truly subjected to Chuck’s will, then it wouldn’t be incongruous of a dramatic woman that she was if she told Sam that it was alright and had to be done, that she was thankful that it was him who would put her at peace.

Rowena’s life ended with a final kiss to one of the big bloody heroes of the story.  

Rowena sat up, gasping, with the sharp pain of being stabbed in the chest ebbing away.

She rubbed on her skin, and there was nary a trace of the wound there, not even a scar. Faintly, she recalled that she must be in what passed as limbo temporarily while the whole Chuck ordeal resolved itself to bring back the order in Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. Frankly, she was amused that she wasn’t delivered straight to the pits of Hell just yet.

In a world with varying sets of beliefs and only one true creator, Rowena guessed this was what encompassed as a limbo: a familiar place to the person in it. It was pretty underwhelming for an afterlife; it wasn’t even a particular memory she held fondly.

Rowena sighed. She would have to get used to having a long stay at this three-star hotel in Scotland.

Or was she?

There was something that nagged inside her mind aside from the familiarity of her surroundings. She had been here before, yes, but more than that, it felt lived in.

Tentatively, Rowena pulled the drapes aside and saw the city’s roads with a couple of vehicles and a few people out in the early morning Scotland weather. Alright, so it was quite detailed for nitpicking.

She backed away from the window and believed that she was thinking too much about this when she should be having her peace for Chuck’s sake. She would think that this included plenty of beauty sleep she had neglected.

There was ringing coming from the nightstand. Rowena raised an eyebrow at the flipped phone and picked it up to answer.

A harsh exhale could be heard before a tirade passed through the speakers.

Rowena pulled the phone away with a grimace, muffling the irritating sound. Amidst her growing annoyance and confusion, the nagging returned in a manner that she recognized.

Rowena knew she’d been here before; she’d been here in this exact moment in time years ago that seemed distant.

And it came back to her in increments: the angry woman on the phone was someone who accused her of fraudulence, a person who had insulted her capabilities after Rowena purposefully gave her a love potion that failed to work. Rowena remembered the handsome man intended to receive the potion and how she greatly desired the man for herself. The woman she conned was wrong—Rowena’s creation did work, only that it served its purpose to its creator instead.

Blearily, Rowena cut the call and focused on the displayed date.

2004.

Bullocks.

By some twist of fate, she traveled back in time.

Trust her to interpret it as a wrench thrown in the works than a second chance that shouldn’t be possible for a person like her.

It shouldn’t be possible for anyone, certainly not after the creator of the world decided to leave it all to shambles and discarded his creation like his old used toys that a child overgrew. Chuck wouldn’t be this generous to bring someone back in the past with the memories of the future intact.

Angels could, but as far as Rowena knew, Castiel was the only angel left on their side, not to mention fallen and with hardly any grace left. He wasn’t even around when she died.

And she did die. That wasn’t some dream or a scrying session, of that she was sure. She couldn’t have imagined Samuel’s weeping over her body. She couldn’t…

Oh, god. Samuel.  

He was young around this time, not that seasoned hunter that she got to know better. He was practically a child compared to her. He was free of the burden of Lucifer. And if her calculation was correct, he wasn’t even back on hunting just yet, enjoying his respite from that life and thinking he completely escaped it for the mundane and normal pursuits.

Her mind reeled at the possibilities in her hands, the changes she could make not only for herself but for those that she cared for. She didn’t know whether to take the situation as a gift or a curse to relive all her terrible choices once more.

But by Morgana, this was something she wasn’t aware she needed until now.

Innocent Oskar was alive, and with all her power she would keep him away from her. What happened to that kind boy was all on her and no one else’s.

Her son was alive in Hell, not yet the King of the Damned, but a King nonetheless. Fergus could bloody well be a low-level salesman of Hell and she wouldn’t care. She could see him again, the person she once thought a remembrance of her greatest mistake. She could do it right this time.

Rowena crumpled on the floor in a torrent of sentiments, a mess in every sense of the word.

She put aside the planning for the meantime. For now, she allowed herself a moment to wallow in a curious mix of grief and elation.

Rowena was onboard the first flight to States by evening.

Fortunately, the travel time gave her some quiet time to carefully plan the moves she intended to make once she landed.  She had been sorely tempted to prepare a summoning ritual for Fergus the minute she started to keep it all together; the ritual was, after all, a walk in the park for a witch of her caliber. But a more rational introspective reminded her that Fergus around this time wasn’t the same Fergus she reconnected with after three centuries.

There was more Crowley in Fergus now, wired closely to a callous demon than a humanized one. There was no love lost between them that would allow a semblance of affection from Crowley.

If she had attempted to summon Fergus, he would kill her quickly, at best.

It was difficult to sleep by the time she was settled in, her mind brimming with ideas on how to best make use of the situation. Was she alone in this venture? If not, then she has to find them soon. Working alone was ideal in most cases but not on this. Hopefully, if she did manage to find someone, it was a person previously on the Winchesters’ side, else it would pose as a huge hurdle she would have to deal with as well.

Rowena gave up on rest, getting a pen and paper instead to write down a temporary outline that followed a chronological flow. She disliked having to rely solely on her memory of Chuck’s books in regards to the major events that happened since the year 2005 onwards, but then again, having a single Supernatural book at hand would make things a bit easier, and she wasn’t under the illusion it would be so.

There was always the option to approach the Winchesters in person and explain the circumstances. Rowena scratched the idea away. Knowing them and their former black and white moral compass most especially to witches, it was the riskiest move. Not to mention, the notorious John Winchester who she wasn’t keen on meeting.

If she was truly well and alone, then she would make do.

The Crossroads Demon that greeted her was a woman with full lips curled into a sly smirk, appraising Rowena and humming in appreciation at what she saw.

“A witch,” the demon purred. “To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting such a pretty little thing?”

“I’m sure you already know, dearie,” Rowena replied with a saccharine smile.

“Perhaps,” the demon agreed, circling Rowena and trailing a finger across her shoulders. Rowena shivered. “But witches don’t usually come first to our branch. They prefer the direct approach than through a mediator, which, as they say, is faster, but I’d say they tend to forget the risk.” She sighed wistfully, twirling a lock of Rowena’s red curls. “Nonetheless, I’m here to provide you the best service. You may borrow from a demon and remain bound to my contract that guarantees security against an untimely death before ten years. What do you say, darling?”

Rowena has no time for petty sales talk, though she couldn’t help but mock. “I’m sure you’re not blind, dear girl, and you can see that borrowing a meager amount of power from a demon is the least of my needs.”

The demon’s smile faltered slightly and then twitched back to amusement. “Interesting. A strong, immortal witch. Old too,” she drawled. “Pray tell what you desire, madam. Is it eternal youth?” She cupped Rowena’s face, sharp nails grazing her cheeks. “Perhaps not. Neat work on the beauty spell.”

Rowena didn’t bother to hide rolling her eyes. Eternal youth for a ten-year contract? Please.

“Oh.” The demon’s look turned predatory as if it found what it was looking for while she searched Rowena’s face. “A man. Had the potions not worked?” She grinned knowingly. “No matter. He’ll be worshipping the ground you walk on, and he shall pour all his unconditional love for you.” Her eyes trailed lower with unadulterated desire. “As early as tonight he’ll make love to you like he hadn’t known passion, yearn only for you and no one else. He’ll know no greater beauty and derive pleasure only for you and from you.”

“Aye. It is a man,” Rowena said, swallowing thickly. She hated that she had been neglecting her needs. No matter; two could play this game. “And you might have known him by the name of Crowley.”

The demon tensed, pulling away in surprise at hearing the name directly coming from a human.

“Your boss, dearie. The King of the Crossroads.”

“I see that you know him,” the demon said once she recovered. “Left you used and empty?” She snorted derisively. “I must say, I didn’t know he got involved with witches. The others don’t know it, but I’ve noticed his strong dislike for your kind. You must be special.”

“Very,” Rowena said dryly.

“Unfortunately, I can’t give you the boss. Protocol and all that. I admire your gall, though.”

“Och. Nothing drastic like that. I simply want to give him something.” Rowena pulled out an ornate envelope.

“A love letter?” The demon kept her hand from plucking the letter from Rowena’s hands. She noted how guarded the demon became. “Charming. And you want me as your glorified mail courier? As unexciting this is, this is a first in my career.”

“Far from a love letter, but a letter written in love.” Rowena handed her the envelope. “Now don’t go be stupid to take a peek. It’s enchanted to be opened only by the person intended for,” she advised playfully.

Rowena could see how it irked the demon, though she relented, and with a snap, the letter was gone. “Done. Delivered to the boss’s pile.”

Well, who would have thought it would be this quick? Rowena grinned in satisfaction. “Now come here and let me pay you for the job well done, dearie.”

The demon was enthusiastic to get into Rowena’s space, latching a firm hand on her hip. Rowena ran her palms on the demon’s waist and slowly crept from her breasts to shoulders, lips making feathery touches from the jaw to an earlobe.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much I’ve been missing my son,” Rowena whispered breathlessly, slipping an inconspicuous ball of cloth before abruptly pulling away.

The demon let out an inhuman screech, violently coughing out black ooze as she doubled over. “You!” It seethed, wailing in pain. “What is—How did you—”

“Consider it a treat, darling.” Rowena flipped her hair. “Give a kiss to my son for me, will you?” She watched as the demon writhed in utter suffering on the ground for several seconds, cursing Rowena and her entire bloodline, before slumping lifelessly. “Or not.”

Rowena blinked, and with a pang of pity for the poor vessel, she crouched down to gingerly shut her eyes. She murmured a quick spell and the hex bag and the body burst into a bright flame, engulfing Rowena with heat that seeped to her bones.

Out of respect for the dead, Rowena lingered until the body was no more.

Rowena caught herself staring in front of the mirror and noticed a younger face in the reflection.

It was an odd thing to take note of given her age that was nowhere near youthfulness, but the subtle differences were there, like the laugh lines and small crow’s feet that she gained in the last five years were gone, replaced with smoother and firmer skin. She closely resembled the person she used to be, the proud witch untouched by time that never had the pleasure of meeting Lucifer.

If there was something else she took comfort in her newfound situation, it was that Lucifer remained locked up in a cage. She would’ve hoped for eternity, though with the amount of Apocalypse that happened in the previous years of her time, it was probably asking for too much.

Rowena frowned in the sudden realization that with her foreknowledge, she could stop that herself.

As quick as the idea formed, there came in the numerous issues she could already see. First, the Apocalypse was a divine concerto planned for several millennia, with both sides actively working towards the same goal. Second, Heaven and Hell were both in their peak, the former with its garrisons of angels and the latter with its generals loyal to Lucifer. Third, Rowena was working alone with neither the Book of the Damned and the Black Grimoire, which the lack of either shouldn’t pose much of a problem with her intimate knowledge of the contents of both.

Unfortunately, unbound magic or not, Rowena wasn’t suicidal enough to risk facing both Heaven and Hell, and most certainly not without a card up her sleeve.

Or she could let it all play out the same way it did before; the Winchesters would surely put a stop on the end of the world anyway, with or without her aid. Except that choice was making her strangely guilty like she owed the boys this. Hell, Sam himself admitted that they unknowingly caused the first Apocalypse, and Rowena had been occupied with skipping cities and conning desperate women to even know the world was ending.

But no Apocalypse also meant no Lucifer not only for Sam but also for her, and Rowena could see the appeal in that despite the stack of odds. Besides, it wasn’t like she wasn’t there when it was God and The Darkness duking it out, though there were allies back then and God was on their side.

Bloody hell, this was the main reason she was a pagan in the first place.

The initial plan was to indirectly give Sam Winchester an ample protection a witch could provide, until a serious reconsideration forced her to try a different approach that she wasn’t looking forward to try.

Mildly miffed, Rowena took a sip at the stale tea that dared call itself herbal; it did nothing but worsen her ire on the terribly rowdy surroundings and the gaudy shade of green and pink all over the place.    

“That bad, huh?” said a male voice. She looked up to the barista who served her earlier. At her raised eyebrow, the young man elaborated, “The hangover.”  

No, it was the bloody temporal displacement and the baggage that came along with it, Rowena was close to saying. “Not a hangover,” she muttered in disinterest.

“Not that I’m judging,” the boy said, raising his empty hands slightly. “So where’s the renaissance fair?”

She vaguely wondered why the boy won’t sod off already. “The fair,” she repeated testily.

“You look like you came from one.” The boy smiled impishly. “Or going to.”

If that was supposed to be endearing, then he was failing miserably.  “Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing, dearie?” Rowena asked sweetly.

The boy shrugged. “Hey, you’re rocking them. Just saying you don’t fit with the elements, is all.”

Rowena wrinkled her nose at the gaggle of loud whippersnappers that came in. “Then pray tell how do pajamas in afternoon fit in.”

The barista followed Rowena’s line of sight. “Uh, because this is a university campus and that’s a college student wearing one? And this place is literally named Coffee Beans and Tea Leaves,” he answered like it was the most obvious thing.

“Ah, yes, I forgot I’m blending in with a bunch of hippies.”

The boy chuckled. “First time?”

“What gave it away?”

The tone earned her another huff of laughter. “So will I be seeing you around here often?” He seemed delighted at the prospect. The boy was sorely lacking in propriety.

Kids.

Rowena gazed up at him, found that the boy’s name was Louis, and simpered. “No.”

Rowena stalked the hallways of the campus, getting a few attentions here and there that she ignored for the purpose of finding the damned library of the building, her best bet in finding Sam Winchester and be done with this place.

The clicking of her heels reverberated through the corridor barren of any students except the lone janitor mopping the marble floors. The man looked up as she passed him, and she paid the man no heed as he stopped working and stared.

Rowena slowed once she could see the end of the hall with an opened door. Pausing, she let out an exhale and—

The surroundings changed abruptly to a warehouse.

Whirling around in alarm, Rowena found the janitor behind, observing her with a frown.

He might have done something with her vision as well—she could see his face shifting without a fixed set of features as if its face was scrambling to maintain its looks.

“What are you?” she demanded, fingers twitching in preparation.

“Okay, hear me out, lady,” the man—creature or whatever—suddenly said in a voice that sounded distantly familiar. “If I’m wrong, I’ll remove this encounter from your memory, but if I’m right… You’re here for Sam Winchester too, aren’t you?”

Rowena was immediately on high alert, raising her right hand. Was somebody following her movements? “Again. What. Are. You?”

It let out a sigh that resembled relief of all things. It snapped before Rowena could react, and its face began righting itself in a recognizable one.

Rowena’s eyes widened. “You—What are you doing here?”

Gabriel shrugged, eyes lit up amusedly. “I could ask you the same thing, lady.”

“Same circumstances, huh?”

“Except you missed out on the next two years.”

“No regrets here. Don’t want to see Dad wrathful.”

“Only on humans, Jack, and Castiel.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Dad doesn’t do things by halves. He was probably mad at everyone.”

“Are you here long?” Rowena asked.

“Last I remember was dying in the Apocalypse World, then I woke up a month ago,” he said. “You?”

That was roughly the same time she arrived, give or take a few days. “Same.”

“I’d say this is the Winchesters last-ditched attempt to fix everything, but I doubt it if neither of them knows anything.”

“You mean it’s not you?” Rowena rolled her eyes when Gabriel looked nonplused. “You’re the one who likes faking his own death and with enough mojo to pull it off.”

“That was one time,” Gabriel retorted. “I did die for real, and, no, my grace back then was too low for this.” He gestured vaguely between the two of them. “Actually, I believe it’s Jack.”

“That boy is dead,” Rowena told him somberly. She quite liked the kid and how little of Lucifer there was in him despite being soulless. His heart had been in the right place.

“Sure, but he could be awake where he ended up to, and I don’t know either whether it’s the Empty or Heaven.”

It wasn’t Gabriel, the Winchesters, and they have no proof that it was Jack. And if it really wasn’t the latter, Rowena couldn’t think of anyone else who would trouble themselves and strong enough to hide her and Gabriel’s situation from Chuck.

“Do you think He knows?”

Gabriel took a while to answer. “I won’t be surprised if Dad does.” He then smiled wryly. “As of now, trust me when I said he won’t bother us.”

Rowena wasn’t assured by Gabriel’s nonchalance and certainty. “Why won’t He? He knows about the future we came from, and from mine where his favorite characters pissed him off. I’ll understand if he won’t write off a son of his, but I’m not really held in the same regard.”

“But you are now, one of his important characters, I mean,” Gabriel said with a slight grin. “Dad is a writer—a shitty one, admittedly—who’s damn proud of his magnum opus. The two of us are his greatest plot twists in the story at this very moment, and if there’s one thing writers like the most, it’s creating a major revelation that’ll go down in history.”

When Gabriel put it like that… Rowena couldn’t really speak for Chuck, and if there was anyone who knew him better, it would be an archangel of his. “What do you propose we do?” she asked for the principle of it, knowing the inevitability of how to proceed from then on.

“I may have a few ideas,” Gabriel replied noncommittally, rubbing his chin in thought. “Honestly, I haven’t thought out this far.”

Rowena wasn’t fooled by the mischievous grin that widened almost imperceptibly.

Almost.

She has a bad feeling about this.

When Gabriel suggested they actively participate in the game on board named the Apocalypse 1.0, Rowena wasn’t told that it involved integrating themselves on the university population.

“If Hell already placed one of its agents near Sam, then so should we,” was Gabriel’s excuse.

“Then replicate yourself,” Rowena countered.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

An instructor in World History had apparently been given a grant by a rather generous (and mysterious) organization to pursue his research on the fallen civilization of Greece, promptly making him leave his post at Stanford within the second month of the semester. The faculty was sad to see an esteemed colleague go, while the students were pretty indifferent to the news, mostly claiming that they took part in the class for easy addition of units.

There was a distinctive change in opinion among the student body when Professor Gabe Shurley came in.

Prof. Shurley was a man in his early thirties with a charming personality and a love of puns and innuendos, who knew his stuff though he tended to make outrageous claims out of vague facts, such as insisting that Alexander the Great and Hephaestion’s favorite activity was swordplay, in more ways than one, which his students learned to take in jests. He was creative in his exams and papers, and so was in punishing cheaters that any attempt to commit the act was intentionally causing oneself grievous harm.   

Prof. Shurley was a known sweet-tooth in his adorable 5’8’’ glory, with an infamous oral fixation and a notorious crush on the new nurse from the annex building.

Nurse MacLeod was of Scottish descent with a sexy accent, wildfire hair, milky-white skin, and a dancer’s physique that must have meant she was flexible, as per Prof. Shurley’s exact words. She was, more often than not, found with a perpetual scowl as if seemingly displeased with life in general. It intimidated quite a few male students who have no business to be staying in the clinic other than to check out how skimpy Ms. MacLeod’s skirt was for that day, while Prof. Shurley only found the attitude incredibly attractive, occasionally referring to her as ‘Firecracker’ or ‘Tigress’ in his long, wistful waxing of poetic in between lectures.

“I wanna be that stick up her ass,” Prof. Shurley let slip once.

Unbeknownst to everybody else, Prof. Shurley and Ms. MacLeod were living under one roof, occasionally enjoying kinky sex that made Casa Erotica a nursery rhyme video in comparison, though often out of working out some frustrations and clearing their heads. They were, after all, two major players on the replay of the first try at the end of the world.

For two people whose first interaction was a hook up in a library some distant past-future ago, they’ve easily fallen in a routine of keeping up appearances throughout the day, with Rowena taking up to reading volumes upon volumes that Gabriel would give her during the empty clinic. Sometimes with sex included, sometimes they schemed, and sometimes they did both simultaneously (you would be surprised at how ideas sprang during such moments). Gabriel, meanwhile, would pop in and out of town between breaks, bringing her with him on occasions, off to the other side of the globe on multiple occasions for something as simple as a unique ice cream flavor or doing his other job (exacting discipline to those he deemed needed it the trickster way), though frequently for gathering the rare ingredients that Rowena would need for usually modified spells she had taken a particular in, claiming they would be useful for worst-case scenarios.

“I saw some of Azazel’s minions today,” Gabriel said one evening, idly playing with a curl of red hair when Rowena didn’t bat his hand away.

“And?”

“They can’t get in the perimeter,” he answered. “The experiment worked.”

They had drabbled with an experimental spell that consisted of defensive Norse runes and a strong containment curse from the Book of the Damned that Rowena had memorized and repurposed to a repellant hex, which they then tested on the outer walls of the campus. The first layer was done, and all that was left was to weed out the demons within the campus grounds.

“I still don’t understand why you can’t just smite the rest,” Rowena muttered. “Clear them all in one sweep.”

“I would, but, well, I’ll be earning some attention using that much grace, and I’m hiding not only from my original family,” he sounded sheepish.

“Oh?” Rowena leaned on an elbow with interest.

Gabriel blinked, turning. “Right. You don’t know the story.” He glanced away briefly, though his eyes remained distant even when they met hers.

What passed as pillow talk consisted of Gabriel sharing about his time mingling with the pagan deities, making a deal with the actual Loki of Norse Mythology, and of Lucifer’s escape and Odin’s death by his hands that Loki had solely blamed on Gabriel, that in retaliation had him sold to Asmodeus.

Gabriel stopped speaking, and by then Rowena had pieced the bits and pieces she knew from Sam. “I won’t ask if you don’t want to tell,” she said carefully, realizing they fell on a touchy subject.

There was a minute shift in Gabriel’s features that Rowena mistook as a trick of the eye, and he began talking again, though of his early adventures in serving just desserts that caught the Winchesters’ attention, and of shacking up with porn stars in between. Gabriel spoke of much earlier times with the rise of great empires and cities that eventually fall; of the species that once roamed the Earth until it was the time for humans; and of the birth of stars and constellations that Gabriel witnessed himself and tremendously admired.       

Rowena didn’t remember falling asleep, though she couldn’t be blamed if it was to the voice of God’s messenger and his fingers carding her hair.

Gabriel left the next day, claiming a sudden business he has to take care of.

Rowena didn’t pry, sending him away with a dismissive hand, chiding him to be quick since, for all their planning, they were yet to make direct contact with Sam Winchester who was an important factor to the sodding Apocalypse and their primary reason in mingling with the college children in the first place.

Gabriel left with a smile that didn’t reach the eyes, and whatever his business was, Rowena thought it must have been personal.

She wasn’t imagining the storm of fury brewing behind his eyes.

A week of Gabriel’s absence, Crowley materialized one evening in the middle of the room.

“Cozy,” he commented, idly looking around. He was thinner and younger, but it was the same vessel she came to know. He raised an eyebrow at a hanging green bathrobe. “Not interrupting, am I?”

Gabriel’s leave was an awfully convenient thing, and it was a stroke of luck that Crowley didn’t appear at the room where she conducted her work. “Took you long enough to drop by,” Rowena said in greeting, cautiously making a move to stand.

“Well, places to be about and paperwork to be done,” Crowley answered, approaching a wall and trailing a hand. “I’ll be honest. I’ve only decided to visit to avoid a… caterwauling group of fanatics situated near my department. One can only hear so much of the untimely death of their dear prince.”

Rowena pretended not to perk in interest at the offhanded remark. She didn’t know the princes of hell aside from Azazel and Asmodeus, and there was one that briefly kept Kelly Kline during her pregnancy. One of the princes died, and if it was one of the three that shouldn’t have prematurely, it only meant that something already changed in this timeline.

“Imagine my surprise when a letter made its way to my desk, delivered by an absent employee when I came looking.” Crowley regarded her fully after checking behind the drapes. “The years have been kind to you.”

“They’re not, my dear,” she disagreed ruefully. “But that is flattering of you.”

“I assume this is related as to why you asked for me,” Crowley said flippantly, stepping closer towards her. “What can I do for you, mother?”

“Have you not read the letter? I only wish to—”

“See me, yes, share a cuppa and trade gossips, yadda, yadda, yadda,” he drawled, producing the letter out of thin air. “Forgive me, Mum, if it all sounds so bogus.”

“Yet you’re here anyway.”

“Color me intrigued when a half-done contract contained my mother’s name,” Crowley said. “All that trouble to earn my attention. For once, I feel the motherly affection.”

Rowena sighed though completely expecting this flair for the dramatics. She was fortunate that he was yet to make a move to hurt her. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No,” Crowley said shortly. “What I’d like is to get to the point and tell me what the Hell you want.”

“Then I have nothing to say, Fergus,” said Rowena patiently.

Crowley raised a finger. “Actually, I think there is one more thing you can tell me.” He crowded Rowena, drawing up to his full stature and stopped by mere inches. “You’ve asked my employee for her boss specifically, meaning you knew where and what I am now after all those years. I would have known if you made a contract with another to come by this information, but I do believe you have a certain aversion to demons and those who deal with them.”

Rowena hesitated. Should she tell the truth? She would, and while she was confident that Fergus would wisely make use of what she knew of the future, it would also mean telling about Gabriel who was in hiding. It wasn’t a matter of Gabriel handling a horde of opposition but rather his confidence in her and the mutual understanding they’ve reached.

“I wish I could tell you, Fergus—”

Crowley’s hand found Rowena’s throat. “I could snap your neck like a twig,” he spoke. “Always wanted that—dreamt of it in the racks.”

Rowena’s lips pursed. “Not that I expect any less. I would have done the same to the mother who had as good as abandoned me in a ditch to pursue her career. I’m glad you inherited my sensibilities, that there’s more of me in you than your father.”

“So I do have a father,” he muttered, despondent.

“Witchcraft can’t stand for a substitute, unfortunately.” Rowena walked away when the fingers loosened, putting a distance. “Also because your dear mother was weak and made a dire mistake.”

Crowley snorted. “Ah, yes, yours truly.”

“I thought so too,” she acquiesced softly. “Learned otherwise the hard way,” she murmured.

Rowena heard a light hum. She hazarded turning her back once she got the intuition that Crowley wasn’t there to kill her. Not yet anyway. She could see him frowning, gauging her critically.

When she turned around, Crowley was gone.

“Hey.” Gabriel was leaning against the doorway when he appeared without a sound by midnight. “Started without me. I’m hurt.”

“I’m sure you can make more.” Rowena watched the red swirl on the wine glass. At the current lighting, it resembled blood. “Salud.”

“Vintage,” he observed, frowning at the taste. “But not old enough.”

An hour of Indian-sitting on the floor and passing bottles after bottles back and forth without speaking, Rowena began feeling the signs of intoxication.

Huh. That answered what her limits were under a sobriety charm. “There’s tingling in my fingers.”

“Okay, that’s it, Legolas.” In swish of his index finger, Gabriel cleared the floor. “We can drown ourselves in a pool of red when all this is over.”

“When will that be, another century?”

“I hope not. Can’t stomach another millennia of family feud.”

“Makes sense, with you picking off Princes of Hell who’s not supposed to die yet.”

Gabriel’s face went stony. “Doesn’t matter if you’re getting all friendly with a demon. The future King of Hell at that,” he shot back sardonically.

Rowena scoffed. “I can’t reconnect with my son now?”

“Except that’s not the same person you knew and died before you. That, what, just because he’s your son he won’t use what you told him?” He laughed humorlessly. “Like, c’mon. You should know him well.”

“You think I don’t?” Rowena challenged. “I do, and that’s why I didn’t say anything. I’ve turned soft and depressingly moral, but I’m not an idiot, you bampot.”

Gabriel huffed. He believed her words, surprisingly, that had him look terribly chastised afterwards.   

He slumped heavily next to her, their backs against the side of the bed. “How did we even get here?” he asked after a while.

“I thought we already established that we don’t know.” Rowena sounded defeated.

“Nah. I mean, why are we even here? And that’s not an existential question.”

Rowena’s gaze flickered. She didn’t really have the energy to think at the moment, though she could pinpoint where it all started going shit. “Because your Daddy felt threatened by his dear ‘ol grandson.”

Gabriel seemed like he wanted to defend his father and yet not finding the strength for it. “Sounds about right,” he muttered listlessly. “Frankly, I don’t see the logic. A Nephilim is made up of both his first and favorite creations. Doesn’t that mean it’s two specials in one? And they’re called abominations.”

“Because one with an archangel father can rip the world a new one,” she pointed out. She wasn’t siding in Chuck’s defense, but she could understand how that would be problematic among a bunch of normal humans.

“Please, that one’s on Lucifer for not using a condom,” Gabriel argued, annoyed. “We lucked out with Jack’s good other half and the influence by his three better dads.”

“I’m surprised Michael didn’t do the same to another poor girl. I’m surprised nobody in Heaven thought to use Nephilim as weapons in the Apocalypse.”

“Michael and Raphael are known stickler for rules, but they’re not so—not that heartless, lady.” Gabriel frowned, reconsidering when he realized he used the wrong word. “But angels are no different from men when driven to desperation, so, yeah, I could sorta see them using that as Plan X.”

Rowena let out a delicate snort. “That’s reassuring.”

“Mmhm. They won’t, though. They’re too proud to lay with those they consider beneath them.” Gabriel playfully nudged her shoulder with his. “I’d say they’re missing out a lot.”

That has to be the worst come-on Rowena received from him. She rolled her eyes. “I’m pleased you never bothered lecturing your brethren.”

“Lecture them? Please.” Gabriel jutted his chin in thought. “Though it did enter my mind. Siring one, I mean. But it wouldn’t have been a Nephilim. There’s no word for it.”

“An offspring of an archangel and?”

“A Hindu Goddess,” he said with a toothy grin. “Kali, specifically. Think what a ferocious little beast our kid’s gonna be. His Mum’s a war goddess, his Dad’s the best-looking trickster angel there is. He’ll be getting good genes.”

“Aye. Or he could be short with ten heads, ten arms and legs. Ferocious little beast, indeed.”

Gabriel mock-pouted. “You wound me. What about ours though? If I don’t love Dad enough to fuck him over, I’d suggest we make a Nephilim. Can you imagine one born from a natural witch and an archangel?”

And unlike Kelly Kline, Rowena would make sure not to die from childbirth. “Better a girl to inherit my abilities,” she added, sliding on Gabriel’s lap easily.

“A witch Nephilim.” Gabriel’s grin was stretched too wide at the prospect. “Dad will hate her more than Jack, and not only because of her mojo. The sass that kid’s gonna have.”

“Imagine the mouth she’ll have,” Rowena murmured against Gabriel’s neck.

“I think I can,” he said, patting the side of Rowena’s head when she nibbled on his earlobe. “The mother’s, ah, proof of it.”

Rowena pulled away, chuckling a little. “Bit too sweet, dear,” she said slyly, standing to disappear to the bathroom, leaving him ambling around for the better part of three minutes until the bathroom door went ajar.

Gabriel didn’t need any prompting to take it as an invitation.

Autumn break rolled in without much fanfare and any difficult encounters; Sam Winchester included.  After finishing the layers of defense that theoretically should resist both angels and demons alike, it was tremendously dull, the days dragging and with hardly anything to distract Rowena.

The peak of the month was when Gabriel had enlisted her assistance the week previous on a project that Rowena didn’t get many details on aside from setting a special ‘surprise’ for someone, which Gabriel worded with utter enthusiasm and a glint of mischief. With the specific warding he asked of her and upon discovering the abundance of sulfur and salt on the ingredients he had fetched for her, Rowena concluded that the someone was a demon.    

While she knew Gabriel wouldn’t keep it from her if she asked, Rowena didn’t want to indulge him. She was happy to be occupied in the meantime.  

Rowena should know better than to trust a trickster.      

Apparently, Prof. Shurley was well-liked by practically everybody that when he instigated a Halloween party and handed out an invitation by word of mouth, double the amount of students of a single class appeared at the front steps of his bloody frat house conjured out of the blue for catering to a single party that Gabriel deemed special.

Rowena wouldn’t have been there, with the drunk and children in garish costumes exchanging spits left and right, if she didn’t read more into his giddiness belying a hidden agenda that Gabriel didn’t deem necessary to say outright.

Perhaps it was for the best, seeing as not an hour in, Gabriel sought her with his arm wrapped around familiarly to a tall boy who he introduced from his class.

“Ro, I want you to meet Sam Wesson, the finest student of World History 101,” Gabriel eagerly introduced.

While the flannel was a familiar sight, Rowena first noticed the long hair that extended above Sam’s eyes, then made an observation that answered the question of whether a younger Sam was already a tall drink of water. She imagined quite a few scenarios before how her meeting with a young Sam would go down.

Sam reminding Rowena of a cattle breed from Scotland wasn’t one of them.

“Sam, this is Ms. MacLeod which I’m sure you’ve heard of from me every day,” Gabriel told Sam in turn, winking saucily. “Who is now a muse of mine after my own heart.”

Sam looked abashed to be within the proximity of Gabriel’s hyperbolized flirting. “Hello, ma’am,” he greeted politely.

“Aren’t you a little shy for your own good, Samuel?” Rowena couldn’t resist teasing, making Sam flinch a bit at the name. “It is Samuel, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam smiled tightly, a tad sadly. “If you’ll excuse me. I think I just saw my friend stumble and hit his head.”

“You scared the kid,” Gabriel said, watching with Rowena Sam’s retreating back after a hasty exit.

“I’m not the one who’s acting like his long-time friend,” she retorted.

“Technically, that’s right,” he replied cheekily. “’sides, that’s Prof. Shurley for you. He’s friends with everyone, to the reluctant or otherwise.” Gabriel jerked his red solo cup to the direction Sam disappeared to. “Also, I don’t think Samsquatch’s lying. I did see someone about to hurl his guts out.”

“What in the world are you giving these kids?” Not that Rowena could care less; she simply wasn’t looking forward to a couple of mewling children complaining about the most massive hangover of their lives tomorrow.

“Nothing harmful, trust me,” Gabriel said before tipping the contents of his cup in one gulp. “To humans, that is.”

A boy was making his way to the door in a stumble, unnoticed, and as if ran over by a truck, sweaty and disheveled. Sensing eyed on him, the boy whirled, his eyes unfocused and furious like a cornered wild animal.

When his eyes zeroed on Gabriel’s steady ones, the boy’s face drained of what little color it had.

Brady almost tore the door off its hinges in his hurry. He would have if every fiber of his self-preservation weren’t screaming for him to flee this deathtrap of a house.

He couldn’t believe he was caught off-guard after his instincts already picked up a weak thrum of protective magic surrounding the place, the kind that he chalked up to the house being old and previously in possession of a religious family. Brady would have been suspicious, but that meant putting credit to this hedonistic dunce of a man who called himself a teacher. See, this was the kind of humans Hell profited on.

Brady took comfort on the human stupidity, particularly those of people around Sam Winchester. It made his job easier, albeit dull and mawkish when keeping up appearances as Winchester’s close friend. Still, a job well-done to Lord Azazel was a job without any form of hindrance.

That was until a small dose of holy water inexplicably made its way to his drink.

Brady had felt the liquid burn his throat and esophagus first before it burned his mouth, making him rush to the restroom and vomited what he could heave out. What he excreted was a mix of red chunks and black phlegm that had him forcing two more fingers down his throat in order to remove the contaminant out of his system before it killed the vessel from the inside.

The regeneration of the portion of his tongue and lips was slow, and for a second, he feared that the concoction—he refused to believe it was as simple as holy water at this point—did lasting harm to his vessel. He couldn’t afford a change now, not when the vessel was personally given to him by Lord Azazel. His vessel’s death meant death for him as well.

Brady left the restroom, deliriously looking around every face in the cramped living room. Was it a hunter? He knew of the restlessness among the lower ranks. Rumors had been floating around that Lord Azazel’s foot soldiers were being put down one by one, and judging by the skill and how precise the tracks were covered, it was a seasoned hunter that, much to his surprise, wasn’t John Winchester. That was the last news Brady had heard from Hell.

No, it couldn’t be that hunter. Only Lord Azazel and he were aware of his mission, the main reason why Brady couldn’t risk an attempt to investigate on his own the sudden disruption in his connection, not to mention the lack of reachable henchmen he could order.

Then who the fuck was it? Who was stupid enough to dare obstruct—

Brady chanced to turn around and he realized too late that he got his answer.

A fucking archangel.

No, no, no—it was supposed to be only Michael and it would be years before they deal with him! The Apocalypse would officially start when Lord Lucifer was finally freed, and only then would Michael and the Heavenly Host in his back would make their opposing move. Nobody said that Heaven would send out an agent to foil the plan.

With Raphael known to be on the side of bringing the Apocalypse to fruition, there was only one archangel left who remained neutral on the matter and who hadn’t been seen for thousands of years.

Gabriel’s divinity was obscured by the pagan entity he was wearing, though it wasn’t enough to completely dim the intensity of his grace. He could wear layers upon layers of pagan entities and they wouldn’t suppress his true identity.

Or maybe that was exactly what Gabriel wanted him to see.

Brady should have known there was something fishy with the little weasel shit.    

“Brady!” He heard Sam called from behind before running towards him. “Are you—what’s wrong? Do you need help—”

“Don’t touch me!” Brady seethed when Sam turned him by the shoulder. Sam looked surprised at his reaction, and Brady didn’t really need the added problem of Sam suspecting him; the oaf was too fucking perceptive. “I’m sorry, Sam. I just—I feel sick after starting too early.” He gave a wry chuckle. “But I’ll be fine going back.” He smacked Sam’s arm lightly. “Go on and get wasted. All study and no play makes you a dull boy.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Seriously, though. If you need anything, call me. Or Jess. We’ll be there.”

How awfully kind and ridiculously soft. It was in situations like this when Brady doubted this kid was truly Lord Lucifer’s true vessel. “Thanks, Sam.”

The more time Sam took to watch him go, the more pathetic Brady looked for not being able to escape somewhere in a blink. Brady cursed Sam Winchester and his abominable family under his breath until he reached the other side of the street.

With a gesture, Brady escaped under the darkness of the night.

And fell.

The drop was a sudden thing; one moment he was standing, and next the back of his meatsuit was slamming the ground. Every bone of his vessel was broken in five ways, and when he looked up he was outdoors, in an open pit of freshly-dug earth.

A silhouette above took shape, peering below at him.

“Get me out of here. Now,” Brady demanded but what left his mouth was a pitiful set of squeaks no better than a rat’s.

The figure clicked its tongue. “Look at that,” it said. “Another victim. Poor lad.”

“I said, get me out of here!” A gurgle came out in place of his yell.

The figure didn’t appear to hear any sound, starting to shovel back the earth on the pit.

Brady’s attempts at movement were fruitless and at best a writhing gesture that made him seem like a worm convulsing underneath the soil that began piling up quickly until the earth was on his eyes, inside his ears, nose, and mouth.

He let out a noise that went unheard six feet under.

Rowena murmured, hovering her hands above the young man’s chest and forehead. “He’s still there. Weak,” she confirmed.

“Good. That’s good,” Gabriel muttered distractedly, pacing. “Oh, man. This demon sucks at obstacle challenge.”

Rowena ignored him for the meantime in favor of saving the vessel and communicating with the person that remained inside while keeping the demon possessing him unaware.

She would have preferred it if the body was lying down on its back instead of sitting and roped tightly against the chair carved with demon traps. She tipped his chin and tore his shirt. Rowena wrote swiftly with a brush dipped in a special concoction. She wasn’t sure how long Gabriel could keep the demon occupied; probably for as long as Gabriel was entertained, but the quicker Rowena move, the greater the chance to pull out the young man back safely.

“Dico vobis levate manum, eo cui corporis huius,” Rowena chanted. “Sequimini me, et audi vocem meam. Imperium accipere gratiam immundos fugare templum tuum, qui aues…”

It took her two repetitions for the body to respond by convulsing on the chair before a sharp gasp broke through and wide, terrified eyes unfocused as he took in his surroundings in panic. “W-Where—”

“Hush now, lad. You have to calm down,” Rowena told him, clicking her fingers in front of his face to get his attention. “Brady. Brady Wilson,” she called firmly. “Look at me and me alone.”

Brady Wilson’s attention snapped to her as his face crumpled in fear and agony. “Help me. P-Please, help me.”

“I will help you with the demon expulsion, but you have to calm down or you’ll alert it.”

Brady shook his head frantically. “No. Help me. Let it end. Please.”

Rowena froze at the request, and before she could form a reply he spoke again, pleading as he gripped her hand on what little movement he could make against the ropes.

“I know what they’ll do. They’ll kill me, you, my family, my friends Sam and Jess. They don’t know what happened to me. Kill me and the demon.”

And that was the fastest way to finish it, wasn’t it? Gabriel told him that this mole was an integral part of Azazel’s scheme, and irreplaceable unlike the rest of his followers. Killing him early would at least hinder Jessica’s death and in turn Sam’s immediate return to hunting. The boy was asking for it, and not only it would be saving them the time, effort, and resources, it would be mercy.

Had it been some time ago, Rowena wouldn’t have hesitated.

She cut the ropes, propping him on the chair properly while she methodically let the blood flow back to his wrists. She was conscious of him blearily looking at her and leaning to her touch on his forehead and hair. She could no longer feel Gabriel’s presence behind her, and she knew he was in that crafted world of his, personally taking care of the vermin because Gabriel always wanted to have fun with those that actually deserved the trickster experience.

“I don’t want to hear that again from you, you hear me?” Rowena said, mildly reprimanding. “I won’t let you, young man, and the angel won’t either.”

Rowena didn’t let him get a word in edgewise and began the exorcism.  

It was a peculiar thing to see Gabriel use the door, Rowena thought idly.

“Done,” he said. “He won’t remember getting possessed, and his memories of the past year will be fuzzy once he wakes up tomorrow, but that’ll be better for him.”

“And the demon?”

“Killed in a trial by combat in Westeros.” At Rowena’s confused frown, he waved his hand. Gabriel jumped on the bed, unwrapping a bar of chocolate and tossing another to her. “Good job on the exorcism.”

Rowena wasn’t a fan of sweets, but she would rather have something that wasn’t alcoholic right then. She scooted beside him and tore a small piece of the Swiss dark chocolate. “The lad wanted to die, you know,” she said absently, careful not to spill any bits on the comforter.   

Gabriel was looking at her silently.

“I don’t know him,” she continued. “It would be nothing personal, and he would thank me for it.”

She saw numerous times demons getting killed while inside their meatsuit—she had killed a couple—and perhaps that would make any forget about the living person within. It wasn’t a particular issue she and the Winchesters dwell on, but what happened earlier made her rethink her approach and outlook on a few things.

He was still watching her, and whatever he saw, it was enough to make him smile genuinely. “You did good today, Rowena.”

She did, didn’t she? In a relatively general sense of ‘good’.

Rowena wanted to huff a denial, to insist on maintaining an image within the morally gray area, but it wasn’t often that she got something of an acknowledgment for a deed.

It was… nice.     

Rowena met Sam Winchester again the next day.

He didn’t pose a flattering sight, propped by a tall blonde girl who helped the giant to the clinic. Taking pity, Rowena assisted her in lugging Sam to the cot.

“I’m sorry for barging in this way, Miss MacLeod, but you’re the only nurse on duty I know during the holidays,” the girl said immediately. “He’s been feeling under the weather since yesterday, and I thought it was just a hangover since he never really drank heavily. But then he got a mild fever this morning. I did my best lowering it down, but—” She sighed glumly. “It’s out of season but I think it’s flu.”

Rowena felt mildly guilty for the girl’s apparent concern. “He’ll be fine, dearie. I’ll give him mefenamic for the migraine he’ll surely have when he wakes up. Just let him rest here for a few hours if you have somewhere to be.”

The girl appeared slightly hesitant to leave but grateful nonetheless. “Alright. Thank you, miss. I’ll leave Sam to you for a bit. I might as well get him lunch.”

“A meal with hot soup will do nicely,” Rowena suggested. The girl politely bid her goodbye and was already at the door when Rowena called her. “What’s your name again?”

“Jessica. Jessica Moore,” she said with a bright smile. “I’ll see you later, Miss MacLeod.”

Rowena remained staring at the closed door. So the sweet and caring pretty lass was Jessica. Rowena wondered why she hadn’t piece it together the moment she saw her enter.

But maybe it was the years knowing Sam Winchester too; she was a little familiar with his taste in women in the later years.

“I don’t know what happened to your standards, Samuel,” she muttered.

“Tastes change, you know,” Gabriel said, appearing closely behind her. He grinned at her jolt of surprise. “Also, can you fault him for liking dangerous women?”

“The good lot they did to him,” she scoffed. “No wonder he thought he was cursed, with the women he got involved with dying left and right.”   

Gabriel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If I remember the books correctly, only those he slept with, then some.” He paused. “Wait. Does that mean you and him—”

“Och. No.”

Gabriel looked skeptical.

Rowena rubbed her temple and shooed Gabriel away with her free hand. “Do your bloody thing, you angel.”  

It was anticlimactic watching him touch Sam’s forehead and chirping it was done. “Did what Castiel placed on him and his brother before. Enochian carvings on the ribs. Pretty ingenious, actually. I put back his anti-possession as well. Should hold up against demons with a class as high as a Prince.”

“And the malady you gave him?”

“Squashed like a bug.” Gabriel grinned impishly. Rowena didn’t share the same appreciation for the pun.

“You mean to say you could have done that months ago in less than two minutes,” Rowena said lowly. “What the Hell, Gabriel.”

“What? I like roleplaying. I’ve been a janitor in another uni for six years last time. I get to be a professor this time. Maybe I’ll be a student next.”

“I wasn’t told you’re the angel of universities.”

“It’s not the university itself, lady. It’s the people,” Gabriel reasoned. “Why the ungratefulness? You get to see Sam again.”

“Frankly, I’d rather didn’t.”

“Yeesh. Trouble in paradise before the time travel?”

Rowena fixed him a look. “No.”

She moved past him, leaving no room for argument. Gabriel remained by Sam’s bed, squinting his eyes down on the unconscious man. He dropped the subject, or so she thought.

“Is it the height?”

“Gabriel!” she hissed in irritation. Any louder, Sam could possibly wake.

Gabriel shrugged. “Not that I blame you. It might have occurred to me once to climb that tree.”

“What?”

“What?” he asked.

Rowena blinked.

“I’m not blind, and I can appreciate both kinds of Dad’s creations.” He definitely sounded defiant.

“Of course, dear.”

“Right.”     

Jessica returned not long later, unknowingly stumbling on the awkward silence when she checked on her boyfriend. She recognized Gabriel and the two were engaged in an animated talk that led to him seeing her out of the clinic.

“Hope you didn’t mind I stole your coin,” Gabriel said when he returned inside. “That girl’s a walking target, if you remember.”

Hard to forget, though admittedly Jessica’s importance had been trumped by prioritizing Sam. “I’ll keep her protected,” Rowena promised.

As long as Azazel and his fellow Lucifer fanatics were alive, Jessica was yet to be out of the clear.      

Rowena was just as unprepared as the first when Crowley visited the second time the following week.

By some luck, Gabriel was absent once more when it happened, sauntering somewhere off the coast, he said with a worried frown. Either he was away to check on something concerning or it was an absurdly good coincidence that probably wasn’t at all. A thought for later.  

She watched him survey the walls all over again. Somewhat amused, she quietly let him look under the drapes before he decided there was nothing out of the ordinary. Crowley considered her as if trying to figure out a puzzle. Rowena was fine with getting used to this routine if Crowley were to visit her again.

Rowena busied herself with a nightcap, and for a minute, she thought he was gone, until he asked to be poured one.

Crowley grunted appreciatively after taking a sniff. “Developed a fine taste, I see.”

“Hard not to when you have a man who can give them to you in a snap.”

“Who’s the poor rich lad?”

“Loki,” answered Rowena, sitting across her son. “That’s what he likes to be called. In his homemade movies, I mean.”

“If I didn’t know better, I would have thought you’re cohabiting with a porn star,” Crowley said. Rowena enjoyed the disgust that fleeted across his face. “But I did know better. Say, why’s a pagan god—what’s that term? Putting his finger in the pie?”

Rowena made no reply to refute the discovery. “And the pie is?”

Crowley sat back, seemingly challenging that Rowena tell him herself.

Rowena feigned nonchalance. “We enjoy each other’s company enough without being upfront with each other’s business. It’s a decent arrangement.”

“For sure,” Crowley agreed patronizingly. “A witch in the guise of a nurse. The outfit alone. My, how scandalous.”

Rowena could see what he was trying to do. She would bite; she was curious how he happened with the information after supposedly cutting off the communication between demons in and out of Stanford. “How did you find out?”

“I have my sources.” His tone was noncommittal. “What piqued my curiosity was the choice of location. While I didn’t know what possessed you to moonlight as Florence Nightingale, I wonder if there’s a specific reason why Stanford. It just so happens that a very important person, to the Netherworld, is attending there. Then there’s also the sudden demise of a secret field agent that I only found out about recently. Ironically, Hell’s been having several consecutive deaths recently.”

“Sounds like a lot of funerals in your workplace, Fergus.”

“Good riddance on some, though. That department isn’t known for their competency. The losses are not that impactful.” Crowley frowned. “I’m getting sidetracked. My little birdies also told me you’ve been hooking up with a college professor with an interesting name of Gabriel.”

“What can I say, his father is deeply religious.”

“Yes, that’s one way to put it,” he said dryly. “They said that the Messenger of the Lord has been missing for a while now. Nobody claims he’s dead, though some speculated he went native. What I think is that he has migrated to another pantheon, mingling with the indigenous tribe. They’re lesser than him in terms of divinity, but I heard they’re more fun compared to the prudes upstairs. Being a pagan deity is less conspicuous if you’re hiding from the Family, though it makes one think how he believes he can stay hidden while messing with some grand plans that involved the said family.” Crowley inclined his head. “The pie that I’m talking about, mother, is the Apocalypse itself.”

With Crowley intently watching her reaction, Rowena smoothly schooled her reaction to that of intrigue and surprise. Suffice to say, Crowley wasn’t happy with what he found, which made Rowena wanting to ask why.

If he believed her lie, was he displeased to be proven that she didn’t know any? If he was aware she was lying, was he displeased that Rowena was involved? Rowena knew of Crowley’s stand on the Apocalypse based from the previous timeline, and the sole reason he wouldn’t like Rowena’s complicity against the end of the world was that she would throw a wrench on Crowley’s own schemes.    

“What are you really doing here, mother?”

Rowena wanted to laugh. “An oft-asked question to myself, Fergus,” she replied, languidly pushing herself back on the armchair.

“A question for next time then.” Crowley began to look impatient when he couldn’t gather what he sought. Funny that he wasn’t resorting to force if he was in dire need of information. It should be the easiest to employ the method to her, of all people. He stood, flicking nonexistent lint off his suit. “Something to keep in mind: a certain faction in Hell is outsourcing a rather efficient team to look into the mysterious deaths. Not only that, a cavalry is bound to arrive soon to express their displeasure on the turn of events.” His mouth pursed, too quick for Rowena to discern whether from d. “Farvel.”    

He vanished, leaving Rowena startled at his parting words.

She wasn’t under the illusion that Fergus cared, but she would take the ‘next time’ at face value.

“We have a problem,” Gabriel said, the grimmest Rowena had seen him.

“Great. We’re having a shortage on surplus at the moment,” Rowena replied sarcastically. She turned to him, suddenly concerned when she was met with uncharacteristic silence. “Gabriel, what is it?”

“A Devil’s Gate is opened earlier than anticipated,” he said, running a hand on his hair. “Something’s wrong.”

“The Devil’s Gate?” Rowena repeated confusedly. “I thought the gate to Hell has always been opened. You do know that Fergus can visit me after all.”

“There are a few other doorways to Hell, and very few know of them. Crossroads Demons can go to the human plane since they can technically be summoned here, and because your son is the King of the Crossroads, he gets to move freely in between whenever he wanted,” he explained. “This gate I’m talking about is the main one where multiple hordes can exit all at once.” He looked up to her. “That’s where Lilith will come out per Azazel’s arrangement.”

“Then we kill her too!”

“No, you won’t like that. Her death is the final seal of Lucifer’s cage. The best we can do for her is to trap her for eternity. But, no, that’s not really the issue at hand. We forget another important person we should be keeping an eye on.” Gabriel smiled wryly. “Dean Winchester.”

Of course. Of course, they neglected Dean who was another vessel, albeit for the lesser of the two evils. “If Heaven already made its first move to rally Michael’s vessel, you’ll speak of it. Pray tell how does forgetting about the older Winchester factor in this timeline.”

“With the Devil’s Gate opened, Lilith will possibly be out within the week. That can only mean one thing: they’re pushing ahead of the schedule, probably because of our interference. All that’s left are to break the rest of the 65 seals.”

“You said killing Lilith is the last, then that means there are still 65 seals before her and those are plenty which should buy us enough time.”

“Not enough if they’re moving in an organized manner and with Azazel alive helping her.” Gabriel worried his lip. “The first seal is the righteous man spilling blood in Hell. Dean was the one to do so in the original timeline. He was there after he made a deal to save Sam’s life.”

“But Sam should be safe now. We put every bit of protection on him. He has you protecting him.”

Rowena didn’t want to think it would be all for naught. Gabriel, seemingly reading her mind, reached over to squeeze her hand reassuringly.

“We are, and that puts them in a bind. They can’t take a step that involves Sam. Not yet, at least. But they can switch up a couple of things. They killed Jessica before to push Sam back to hunting—they needed him in top shape for Lucifer—and on the road where Sam discovered about his abilities. Hence, the addiction to demon blood. Sam might be away from Dean as of now, but you do know those two love each other to death no matter the distance that if something were to happen to the other, they will do everything in their power to save one another.”

Rowena was starting to see where Dean would factor in. She let Gabriel continue.

“An accident befalling Dean will be enough to push Sam back to hunting,” Gabriel said. “As to sending Dean to Hell, it’ll be easy with John Winchester around and hunting with him. I imagine that it won’t be a difficult choice for Dean to sell his soul if, say, John mysteriously died or if they gullibly get baited with a piece of information about Yellow Eyes.”

“Targeting Dean now means killing two birds with one stone,” she concluded. “Or three, counting the death of his father.”

Gabriel nodded. “That about sums it up.”

Rowena sighed. “Then we protect him too. Now, without all the role-playing nonsense we did.”

He chuckled. “We can, but that means springing it all on him, who we are, what we are, and when we came from. Here’s to hoping that he’ll simply take them in a stride and will be reasonable to talk to.” Absently, he fiddled with her fingers. Rowena completely forgot she was holding hands with him. Huh. “Actually, I think you should let me handle this. I’m telling you so you know what we’re dealing with and who might be after you and me. I’d rather you’re prepared in case—”

“No.”

“… No?”

Rowena smiled sweetly. “No, dear. Let me take care of Dean.” She shushed him when he was clearly about to protest. “If Hell is already getting hints who’s working against them, don’t you think they’re ready to strike in the open who it is? Now, I won’t put it past them to not know a way to at least put you out of commission for a short while. They’re bound to know a trick or two, and remember that you’re only one angel against most of Hell’s faction.”

“I’m just one archangel!” Gabriel protested. At Rowena’s raised eyebrow, he grumbled, “Fine. I can see your point.”

“My point, darling, is you need to lay low a bit and let me be less conspicuous.”

“Not to offend, quite the opposite, but you enter a room and you can get everyone’s attention on you.”

“Why thank you.” Rowena preened. “And that should work nicely. I do need to get Dean’s attention, and there’s only one way I can think of how without raising his suspicion.”

As expected, Dean was by his lonesome self, nursing a bottle of beer by the bar. He was eyeing the bartender, a short-haired brunette with striking blue eyes that showed a mutual appreciation directed to her admirer. 

Well, interesting to know Dean started young with a certain type.

When it was clear that Dean was about to ask the bartender when her shift would end, Rowena actually felt bad for intervening. She quietly slid to the empty stool to the left of Dean, ordering a top-shelf bourbon and flicking her hair daintily in the process.

There were several variables that could possibly catch Dean’s attention: the shock of red hair that streaked across his peripheral vision; or the scent of lavender and raspberries that was proven to work like a charm; or the slinky black and purple dress that showed skin around the shoulders; or the sound of her manicured fingers tapping against the mahogany top as she waited; or maybe her gall to sit directly next to the person who was sending an obvious signal that he wanted to be left alone.  

It could be any of those, but the fact remained that Rowena could feel Dean’s eyes on her that lingered heavily.

Rowena turned to him, her own eyes bright with coy and red lips turned up coquettishly at the ends, and found Dean Winchester staring at her as if he had seen a ghost.

That wasn’t what she expected.

Dean blinked at her once… twice unbelievingly, his jaw fixed and face draining of color, and under the lighting, he appeared as old as when she last saw him.

“Rowena.”

It barely registered that Dean called her by name without uttering any word so far, and, oh. Oh.

Dean was like her.  

The inside of the Impala was the same as ever: it smelled of manly sweat and stale pine fresh, and the car seat with unexplainable bumps. With how worn the backrest, Rowena would hazard a guess that the vehicle was more often slept in than before.

For once, she was at the passenger’s seat, a blanket of silence between her and Dean that wasn’t pierced by his cacophonous choice of music. Oddly enough, they were both fine with the quiet.

“Where are we going?” Rowena asked after Dean made a turn on the road.

“A different motel. Dad is there where I’m staying. We need to talk somewhere.”

That was just as well. Rowena wasn’t excited meeting the Daddy Winchester. Within five minutes, Dean pulled over a 24-hour motel and parked on the almost empty parking.

Rowena exited once Dean killed the engine and waited out on her side of the car, and to her utter surprise, Dean enveloped her in an embrace.

Dean was no less short younger. She knew he was the more emotionally constipated Winchester, and the fact that he initiated a hug meant he was in dire need of it, of this. Rowena let him, squeezing him briefly before he pulled away hurriedly, awkwardly, probably thinking it cheesy to do so.

Rowena rolled her eyes fondly at him. “I missed you too, you big lug.”

“Yeah, you’re the only witch I missed.”

After the check-in at the front desk with the attendant tossing them a weird look that they pretty much ignored, they made way with to the room, each taking different parts of the room and sitting heavily.

“How long have you been back?” Dean asked, breaking the stillness that yet again settled on them.

“I’ve been here since June last year. You?”

“January last year.”

“You’re early. Earlier than us,” she commented. “I forgot to tell you that Gabriel is also the same.”

Dean’s mouth hanged open before a bark of laughter escaped him. “Why am I not even surprised that he’s also here?”

Rowena smirked. “He was the one who suggested that we seek you out. For your own protection.”

“My protection?”

It was going to be a long story, Rowena decided as she got comfortable beside Dean. She told him of what she and Gabriel had been up to since their return. She mentioned disposing of Brady, and while Dean didn’t interrupt her retelling of events, Rowena could see his gratefulness.

“We took Sam under our protection—well, Gabriel’s, specifically, and I took Jessica under mine. The entirety of that school of his while we were at it. We managed to eliminate a few from within and those waiting outside by cutting their communication. It was apparently vital to the mole disguising as giant’s friend,” Rowena said, not bothering to hide her smugness.

There was an imperceptible softness in Dean’s eyes at the mention of Sam. “Did you tell him? Did you tell Sam about the… the situation?”    

“No. And if you’re asking me, that means you don’t as well,” she said wryly. “Then we both try to keep him away from his fate for as long as we could.” There was a note of wistfulness in her tone.  

“’The things we do for love’,” Dean said. Rowena quirked a brow, and he shook his head. “I’m quoting someone. I did want to tell Sam, you know, because he’s the only person I know who will believe me and be at my back no matter what. I figured you were tempted to tell him with the same reason, especially with,” Dean shifted slightly, choosing his words carefully, “the thing between you and him.”

“Do you mean him killing me or something else?”

He sighed. “Both? I don’t know. There is something else there that you’ve danced around, right? I’m not blind, Rowena.”

Ironic thing to say when he and his angel had their fair share of ‘dancing around’. “Maybe there was, or maybe none,” she said noncommittally. “All of it are in the past now. He’s not that Samuel anymore, and with the rate we’re trying to change to change it for the better, he’ll never be the person we knew. We can tell him who we are, and he could sympathize, but he’ll never understand.”

“But he’ll be happy to be free of what would be in store for his future self,” Dean said. “We’ll be strangers to each other, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

It seemed rather selfish of them to decide what was best of Sam, but Rowena couldn’t find it in her to disagree. 

“Anyway, you were telling me something about my protection?” Dean abruptly asked, a change in topic that Rowena was thankful for.

She told him of the sound theory that Gabriel formed before he sent her after Dean. Dean took it quietly, nodding grimly in agreement for the most part. In turn, he told her of his escapades as well, of trying to stop known followers of Azazel, for example, his children.

“I don’t understand why can’t we kill Lilith ahead before the first seal is broken. Her death will be out of order, hence should be useless.”

“Not saying it’s impossible, but they’ll just find a way to resurrect her until she served her purpose. Also, it’s kind of difficult ganking demons in one strike now without a demon or angel blade,” Dean admitted. “I had to resort with quick exorcism, which is preferable since the person inside can be saved, but it’s a slow process.”

“Don’t you have those at your mancave?”

“Sadly, we won’t have the bunker until 2013. The key’s still with our grandfather and Abaddon won’t be—it’s a long story for later.”

“Fine. Gabriel then. He’ll be happy to provide you with them. The demon blade, at least,” she said. “Would you like me to call him now?”

Dean looked hesitant. “I’d like to see Gabriel too, but I don’t think I can handle another reunion with a familiar face tonight.”

Rowena relented with a tired nod. “I understand, but tomorrow morning I have to. For your Enochian warding and reinforced anti-possession tattoo.”

“Do you have those too?”

“No. I never asked for them.” Dean’s face was disapproving. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Bold of you to assume I don’t have ample protection on my own. Witch, remember?”

Dean snorted. “It’s not a jab on your pride, Rowena. But don’t you think you’re much safer with Gabriel’s protection? Dude’s an archangel, for Christ’s sake. That’s a lot of firepower on our side.”

“It’s not like the subject often comes out. We were occupied enough as it is without thinking of the Apocalypse.” Rowena crossed her arms haughtily.

Dean’s expression was sour. “I don’t want to know.” He made his way to the other bed and dumped himself face-first.

“That bad?”

Dean grunted against the pillow. He turned his face to the side without moving his body. “You have an idea.”

“I can still sleep if that’s what you mean, and it’s not as if I have too many ghosts of the past. I avoid them aside from Fergus.”

“Crowley? You met with him?”

“Twice, and it’s him fishing out information from me and the mysterious beau of mine who he believes is Loki. Technically, I’m not lying.”

“Does Crowley know?”

Rowena scoffed. “Be stupid to tell him when there’s not an ounce of humanity in him. He’s still my son, but he’s an opportunist without a shred of conscience.”

Dean smirked. “That’s him, alright.” He glanced away. “And he’s not a friend. Not yet. The thing about this time travel, you see a lot of people from the past who died a different person than what they are now. You can change them again, but it’s a gamble whether for better or worse.”

“Aye. We’re gifted with foreknowledge, but we lost the friends we gained in the past.”

“Yeah. It’s lucky that she brought you and Gabriel too. When she spoke to me and said she’ll bring me back, I thought—”

“She?” Rowena repeated numbly. “You know who brought us back.”

Dean sat up slowly before answering, “It’s Amara. She appeared to me when I died because I did die for real. With Sam.” He exhaled sharply. “When she told me she’d bring me back, I expected Sam would be here with me. He wasn’t, and in the long run, as much as I hate to admit it, it’s for the best that he didn’t.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why bring us back?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Honestly, I give up trying to figure what these fucking bigwigs are thinking. Amara brought me back, and yeah, I guess I should be glad for the chance, but part of me keeps thinking too that you, me, and Gabriel are just another pawns, only to a different entity.”

“What choice do we have, Dean, but play on their board? Because I am playing no matter how insignificant I am compared to you and your brother and an archangel. What am I? A wee witch who has a few tricks up her sleeves and who died because she had to. I didn’t ask to return, but I don’t doubt that my end will be the same sad end as a footnote in an epic novel.”

“But your death wasn’t for nothing,” Dean insisted. “Not for me, and definitely not for Sam. For someone who’s too proud of what she is, you sure give yourself so little credit. You went out as part of us. You were family, Rowena. You came back, and you still are.”

“You certainly learned how to sweet talk,” Rowena said, unable to stop herself from giving Dean a good ribbing. “You should have—” she suddenly stopped speaking, cocking her head with a frown. “Do you hear that?”

“I don’t hear anything.” Dean was immediately on alert, his back straightening. “Rowena, what’s wrong?”

There was an incessant buzzing ringing in her ears that turned louder and louder and rang inside her head. Rowena’s head began to hurt that she hardly noticed Dean rushing to her and kneeling, shaking her by the shoulders in both fear and concern.

Amidst the sharp stab of pain in her head was a sudden realization that something was approaching them at fast speed.

There was already the sound of breaking glass the moment Rowena forcefully pushed Dean down on the floor.

Great flames swarmed them a matter of seconds, and they burned.

The walls, the ceiling, the drapes, the blankets, the pillows—the whole room was enveloped by the heat that intended to devour her and Dean. Knowing it wouldn’t let on unless both of them were charred crisps, Rowena had to think. Fast.

“Rowena?” Dean coughed and wheezed. “Are you—”

She held Dean firmly under her, and in quick successes snatched a knife from Dean’s waist and sliced her palm. She did a simple pentagram on the carpet by Dean’s head and muttered an incantation.

Despite the smoke, Rowena persisted with the spell, occasionally breaking mid-chant to heave a lungful of breaths. Dean watched her from below, his face covered by his forearm, though his eyes watering from the amount of smoke were stubbornly kept open, wide with unwavering resolute.

Dean firmly believed that she could and would tame the demonic flames, and Rowena did.

A strong gust of wind whirled in and sucked the fire in large increments through the broken window. The smoke within was cleared as the fire was smothered out by magic. Faintly, they could hear the fire alarm that set off outside the room.

Rowena staggered backward from Dean, drawing her breath with great effort and hissed at the stabs of searing pain making themselves known all at once, mostly coming from her back that she could feel from her neck through the arms and legs. Dean was about to scramble on his feet when a force suddenly knocked him aside.

“Dean!”

Rowena collided with a hard body behind her. She whirled and grimaced in pain at the sudden jerky movement, and found a strange man with ashen skin and yellow eyes towering over her within arm’s reach. She tested her right wrist and fingers, and albeit the aching, she could flick them to hurl the demon out.

“I won’t do that if I were you,” the demon warned in its raspy voice. He cocked his head at Dean’s direction and raised a closed fist. “You chant, I snap Dean’s neck here.”

Dean was telekinetically lifted up the ceiling, his throat closing from within, and worrying choking noises were coming from him the longer Rowena stood idle.  

Fuck it.

“Abite!”

While it was satisfying to watch the strike of purple lightning hit the demon squarely in the chest and throw him back with a crack, Rowena had to catch Dean as he rapidly slid down, fortunately against the wall, once he was freed from the demon’s hold.

“Dean, wake up,” Rowena called him urgently, shaking him. “We have to go, and I can’t carry you!”

But Dean refused to budge even as a presence loomed heavily behind her. Before Rowena could react, the demon pulled her up on her feet by her hair, twisting and tugging at her scalp.

“As expected of an angel’s bitch,” the demon sneered, voice grating on her ear. “There’s more magic in you than you look.”

Azazel, Rowena’s mind supplied. It was bloody Azazel.

Gabriel.

It was the last thought in her head before blackness completely overtook her.

There was a trickle of water.

Rowena woke to the acrid smell of sulfur that was palpable in the air. What she believed to be water falling in droplets against her face seemed sticky and thick. Rowena blinked her eyes open and regretted that she did.

Above her was a body of a man hanging limply and whose blood was dripping down on her. Rowena had seen revolting sights in her years, and while this hardly churned her stomach, it was the familiar stature, blond hair, and the drab flannel that had her let out a muffled scream against the gag.

Rowena turned away, struggling on her bound arms and legs on the metal table. Her eyes darted wildly in the dark and found nothing. Once her vision adjusted, the place turned out to be bare like the inside of an abandoned warehouse.

It wasn’t Hell.

Rowena calmed her breathing with deep inhales and exhales, turning her attention back to the body hanging above.

It wasn’t Dean.

In hindsight, it was ludicrous to think Dean could be killed this easy; death was infamously evasive of the Winchester brothers after all. Not to mention, Dean should be considerably experienced when it came to demonkind in his second life.        

Dean could have escaped, or Gabriel could have arrived in the nick of time. Rowena might be tied down in some dank hole, but she took comfort that she was alone for now.

She tested her hands. Iron. Figures.

There was a loud clang of heavy doors before a shuffling of feet could be heard approaching her. It was no use pretending to sleep when a faint light shone once the lifeless body above was casually set aside. A figure hovered over her, reeking of sulfur and the smell of blood and rotten flesh. He was thin and bony, with a sallow complexion.

The unfamiliar demon watched Rowena with scrutiny and the total focus of a boffin studying a specimen. He didn’t react at the glower Rowena was sending him, merely humming and mentally taking notes of his observations.

Rowena could hear the same buzzing from before when they were assaulted in the motel, and it wouldn’t be farfetched to think it was some sort of a signal of impending danger.

Something cold settled in her stomach.

“Fascinating,” the demon muttered in rapt attention. “Your body has experienced numerous deaths and yet retains its form.” His eyes darted on her right thigh. “An embedded resurrection seal. Brilliant.”

He rounded the table, producing a scalpel that gleamed under the dim lighting. He addressed her directly. “I expect your threshold is higher than most I’ve laid here on the table. Such a shame. It would have been preferable if we’re in my office downstairs.”

The cold blade dug lightly near the crook of Rowena’s left arm, and she writhed in pain when it cut down and peeled a portion of her skin.

“Shh,” the demon shushed, unperturbed at her futile attempts to twist away from the blade where a small, thin slice of flesh was sitting atop it. To her horror, the demon brought it to his mouth and ate the bit of her skin.

Rowena turned away from the sight, wanting to puke against the gag.   

The demon hummed, seemingly satisfied at the taste. “Not bad,” he said, and proceeded to calmly incised on sections of Rowena’s left arm.

Rowena screamed.

  Eventually, Rowena passed out against her will once the demon practically peeled most of her upper arm, and one could only see so much of their skin getting eaten and savored right in front of them.

When she came to, her mouth was freed from the binding though her jaw ached. She hadn’t been unconscious that long, it seemed, once she could feel her own magic struggling to mend her broken skin in gradual surges.

The demon didn’t miss the healing raw flesh, and in an expression of disapproval, he dipped the end of his blade at the tip of her pinky finger and flayed the top half.

Rowena’s howl of agony came out unhindered that rang loudly even to her own ears. The demon didn’t flinch at the sound and was in fact rather delighted if his triumphant smirk was anything to go by.

“What do you want?” she demanded, gritting her teeth in spite of the torn nerve endings that she could feel in her whole body.

She would not beg.

“Lord Azazel had asked for my service. He intends to conduct an inquiry about a mysterious party working behind the scenes,” the demon replied matter-of-factly, more interested with working on Rowena’s fingers one by one. She bit her lip to stop the cry from escaping her lips when a nail was pried off.

She would not beg.

“I was told that you’re working with an angel to stop Lord Azazel’s plans to free our Dark Father, and the quickest way to get answers is through the Grand Inquisitor.” The demon made a show of bowing. “Alastair, at your service.”        

As expected of Hell, giving out fancy titles to a lowly profession of torturer. Just her luck that it was apparently one of Hell’s finest that was sicced on her.

She had had worse, she kept reminding herself. Rowena had been at Lucifer’s mercy once. Alastair couldn’t have been worse than the Devil himself.

Rowena’s teeth sunk on her bottom lip while tips of her fingers and toes were being skinned to expose the muscles underneath. By the time Alastair was done, her lip was bleeding, blood and spit mingling down her chin.

“Within ten minutes, you’ll ask for them to get cut off, and I will for every piece of information you can give me. I only need three: a name, a reason, and hm—other names, I suppose?”

Rowena would not beg.

“The countdown starts now.”

She bit back her tongue.

Rowena didn’t beg.

  Somewhere in her addled mind, Rowena registered one thing: Alastair kept referring to Gabriel as an angel.

They didn’t even know what he was.

In the middle of Alastair hammering down a nail on a knee, Rowena laughed.

  In her experience with tortures and torturers, it was entertaining to see them arriving at the brink of desperation when they couldn’t pry from her what they wanted.

Alastair was a different case.

He never tired of asking the same questions, and instead becoming more and more methodical and endlessly inventive with his ways. Rowena’s sense of time has faded, and she wondered how long she had been there with only the company of his demon. Had the situation was different, she would have admired his dedication and ingenuity.

It was exhausting, with her body continuously agonizing over the torment, and on one hand her innate magic was doing its best to repair her in its own way. She might not felt the strength to build it in a ball in her palm, bound by wards etched on the iron that was keeping her down, but her magic was there still and wouldn’t let her just die.   

Rowena held on nonetheless.

  She knew she could handle it once she found a footing by imagining in turn how she would inflict the same kind of cruelty on Alastair the moment she was freed.

Calmly, Alastair humored her ideas, until Rowena became more vocal than he expected and he changed his tactics.

Rowena couldn’t see them, though she did sense when three hellhounds came in with their inhuman growling and heavy steps.

She wasn’t detached enough to not react in terror when the hellhounds mauled her to bits.

  “A name?”

Rowena spat on his face.

It earned her a throaty chuckle.

  Alastair left her eyesight for last.

She blinked, painstakingly and lasting for more than a millisecond, and wished that she hadn’t dared to do so.

Her father stood there where Alastair had been, his face the same as she remembered as a girl, when her father was done after a hard day’s labor but wouldn’t forget cooking her dinner and putting her to sleep at night.

“Rowena,” he said, tender and soft as he brushed her hair and kissed her temple. “My child.”

It hurt when he gutted what currently remained of her, and it began to hurt where Alastair’s tools couldn’t reach before.

With only her eyes intact and voice box and tongue ripped out, Rowena cried noiselessly when her father pierced her cheek.   

  It was Fergus next.

She almost didn’t recognize him, her one good eye aside. It was the nose, the mouth, the ears that resembled Gavin’s—but not quite—that clued her in.

Fergus was taller and thinner compared to Crowley’s meatsuit, and the fact that Rowena didn’t get to see this version of her son when he was alive was a testament on the kind of mother that she had been.

The Fergus that was staring back at her bore no recognition in his face, and when he sat down to gouge her eye out, Rowena knew she deserved it.

  Rowena woke to the shrill sound of an infant’s cries. Exhaustion seeped to her bones, and with utter difficulty held the fussing bairn to her chest until he calmed down.

She was tired, with sleep close to lull her back to its arms. She didn’t notice the makeshift bed dipping with additional weight until he spoke, leaning over to her and their son.

“He got your nose,” Roderick said fondly, his index finger reaching out to touch the baby’s small nose that twitched adorably.

Rowena didn’t answer, though she wasn’t out of it yet to not smile at him affectionately.

“I have to go, my dear,” Roderick said. “You still need blankets and food to replenish your strength. Oh, and hot water. I’ll be back, my love. Don’t wait up for me.”

She hummed distractedly, quite taken with the baby to pay attention to what he said. She knew he understood.

“I’ll give him your name,” she said when Roderick was almost by the exit.

It took him a moment to turn around, and when he did the meager lamplight wasn’t able to illuminate his face. “Yes, I’d like that,” he said, sounding oddly distant and so very far away.

With Fergus garnering all of her attention, Rowena didn’t care.

  They grew up fast, Fergus and Oskar, as quick as a blink of an eye.

It was a swirl of haze how they came to be whenever Rowena tried to think and remember. It didn’t matter a bit; Rowena loved her sons dearly that she would gladly give up her life for them, as any mother should.   

That was why she couldn’t understand why and how her hands found themselves around Oskar’s delicate neck and twisting it cruelly as if breaking a twig.

She turned to Fergus who froze after seeing the incident, and Rowena stomped on the poor boy with all her strength until the white showed. Unlike Oskar, Fergus remained alive long enough to cry. Rowena burned him while he pleaded for his mother for mercy.

“It’s okay.” It was Roderick who appeared beside her when she crumpled on the ground once she got back a semblance of control. “You did good, Rowena.”

But there was nothing good in it. There was nothing good in killing her sons.

There had been nothing good in Rowena’s entire life, with only regret and several mistakes for company.

She was her own making, what she was now.

“It’s okay,” Roderick said again, with a handsome smile that used to twist her stomach pleasantly, except now she detested that particular look that reminded her of someone she struggled to recall. “You were amazing, Red.”

Red. It was only the Devil who called her that.

“Lucifer.”

Roderick caressed her face, causing Rowena to flinch at the touch. His hold was strong and his tenderness jarring.

Rowena would not beg.

“Even better,” Lucifer said, in Roderick’s voice and face, and without preamble kissed her lips. “I’ve returned, my dear.”

She didn’t fight when Lucifer sent her ablaze.

  Rowena had drowned once.

Afloat in a void that she unknowingly fell into felt like it—the oppressive nothingness that weighed heavily on her lungs and the lack of foothold and to grab on to pull herself up.

There was no choice but to drift or fall down, whichever direction she was being directed to.

And would she know it, it actually gave her a sense of peace.

  “Rowena.”

Oh, it was Sam.

Not the young one she met recently but the one she knew longer, who had those wrinkles and laugh lines on his face that showed his age.

Sam looked well, and Rowena had a burning hatred to Lucifer and to that demon capable of playing with her mind like this.  

Sam shook his head. “No. I’m not—you’re not there at the moment.”

Lucifer has to be more convincing than that.

Sam’s expression was patient, contrite and concerned rolled in one. “I’m sorry that you haven’t quite found your peace yet. After.”

“I suppose you know of that too.” Rowena snorted in derision. It was a surprise they were only using the knowledge now against her.

“Why shouldn’t I? I am you. I am a part of you, you know.”

“I wasn’t aware my conscience looks like Samuel.”

“The appearance is all on you, I’m afraid.” Sam grinned impishly. “And, no, I’m not your conscience.”

Rowena bit, getting frustrated with the uncalled for mystery. “What are you then? The part of me that has been keen to die because I never really asked for a second try? It’s not surprising given that you look like the person who killed me. Terribly unoriginal.”

Sam hardly looked offended. “I’m the part of you that believes you deserve a second chance.”

And if it was true of course it would have Sam’s face because the giant was the first person to saw her merit. It was probably appropriate to laugh; she didn’t, though, finding the metaphor stupid.

“The mind works like that,” Sam said sagely. “It’s fascinating.”

On any other occasion, she would have agreed. It was a confounding thing, in her present opinion, that tried to fill up the gaps she hadn’t noticed, like the surroundings and what she and Sam were wearing. If it was her unconsciously doing so, then it was a strange choice to put them both in white, situated among the fields of the highlands from her childhood.

Rowena began walking, with Sam following beside her wordlessly. He wouldn’t speak if she didn’t want him to.

Yarrow beset them on both sides, and Rowena could think of a couple of spells she could do with a single ingredient. There was one for servitude that tended to boil the person’s brain; there was a charm for the home’s safety; and there were two for either good or bad luck.

She wondered idly if there was any for a swift getaway.  

“You don’t have to use any to get out of here,” Sam said. “This is your domain.”

Rowena could sense a ‘but’ despite the wistful tone. “What is it?”

“You still have to call him. Gabriel.”

Well, Rowena felt sort of bad that she had completely forgotten about him, though caring about someone who was vastly more powerful than her and the demons who had gotten her seemed a useless notion.

“He wasn’t asking you to,” Sam said, reading her mind—the concept was funny seeing as where they were. “He respects your own power, and he trusts your strength, but like you he’s also someone who believes in having a fail-safe plan. You two are in-tuned with each other in little aspects like that.” Sam gestured at himself; white suited him, Rowena noted, though it wasn’t in character of the Sam she knew. “He’s the reason why I’m here with you, how I can insist that you put yourself back out there again. It’s not too late yet.”

Sam had to do better if this was him trying to persuade her. “What if I don’t want to go back?” she asked. “What if I simply want to be here, on my own and away from everything else?”

“If that’s really what you feel, then you could banish me anytime. I told you: this is your domain. You have power here. And should you want it, I can stay here with you for as long as you want me and for as long as we’re allowed.”

Rowena wouldn’t have minded. She missed him, and she was in favor of spending the rest of the time with Sam.  

But who was she fooling? This wasn’t Sam. He was nothing but an idea of the real person, of the man Rowena had formed a genuine connection with since Roderick. This Sam was nothing but a chaste memory of the man who cared enough to weep for her death in his hands.

This Sam was but her version of what-if should she had survived with him and lived out the rest of their days together.

It was a piss-poor way to remind her that she had wanted that, once.

“It’s okay,” Sam said, wrapped around her like a friend that he had been, and Rowena latched on to him equally tight. “You have to let it go, Rowena.”

    Rowena let go and called.       

    Behind the closed eyelids, Rowena could make out the harsh white light.

In contrast was the gentle fingers cradling her head and brushing her hair. Rowena couldn’t find the strength to open her eyes yet, burrowing on the comfort that came with the kind gestures and the delicate lifting.

Rowena didn’t have to look to know who the balmy presence belonged to.   

She knew.

It was a messy bedroom that greeted her when she came to, with half-peeled wallpapers yellowing and wooden ceiling and foundations with chipped-off light-green paint.

When she maneuvered herself on the bed, there were springs in the mattress poking her back uncomfortably, not to mention the scratchy comforter above her.    

It might be the most unflattering situation Rowena had been, but the regularity was unmistakable. There was a quality of rightness—at the lack of better term—from the dusty smell of stacked books and the pile of clothes on a chair in the corner.

Rowena was finally out and in a place that felt safe.

Or at least, what she kept telling herself, rubbing on her arms barren of any scar from the misery she underwent, and murmuring repeatedly that she was fine, that the phantom pains would pass and she would be right as rain again.

Rowena slumped down against the side of the bed and let out a choked sob.

A quiet swish of air came and so was Gabriel who pulled her up and guided her back to the bed protectively. He never promised that it would be alright because he understood firsthand that it wouldn’t be the same after that kind of trauma no matter how short the experience.      

Gabriel held her close until her cries died down to hiccups, ruining his shirt with her tears and snot. Not that he cared, carding his fingers through her hair and wrapping the itchy comforter around them both.

Against her better judgment, Rowena fell into a dreamless sleep.

Gabriel was always silent whenever he stayed with her, and Rowena allowed the silence to settle over them like a newfound routine, along with him holding her to sleep until waking up the following day.

He didn’t prod when Rowena refused to eat, and she supposed he had something to do with her lack of the pang of hunger. Rowena took her time to think of eating food without fighting down bile.

For an entity who couldn’t possibly stay long-term in one location, Gabriel was patient with her, surprising her even with a book at hand when she was woken up once in the middle of the night by thirst. Since then, she would found him occupied with trinkets in between her waking moments; sometimes Gabriel was playing with a Rubik’s Cube, though often he was playing a low tune on small wind instruments like a kazoo and harmonica.

By the estimation of the slow drag s of daylights and evenings, Rowena guessed that it has been already a week.

“Where are we?” was the first thing she asked since the rescue. Her throat was dry, her voice raspy from being unused.

Gabriel snapped her a glass of water, eager to answer. “Bobby Singer’s house. It’s the most warded aside from Stanford, courtesy of Dean-o and Roberto, and, well, the uni became a known location to the demons.”

“What happened, Gabriel?”

Gabriel recounted from the night she was with Dean. Azazel had attacked the motel they were at, with an intent to capture her and Dean both. Dean had narrowly avoided becoming a bargaining chip to lure John Winchester after Gabriel arrived at the motel in the nick of time, but not soon enough to get her from Azazel who had hidden her from angels and demons alike, with only he and Alastair aware of the location they were keeping her. He told her of bringing Sam and Jessica to the Singer’s Salvage Yard after Lilith let loose a horde of demons after them in order to capture Sam and to kill Jessica in front of him. Gabriel told Rowena how she steadfastly didn’t break under Alastair’s hands, and that when he finally heard her call, Azazel and Lilith’s combined force bunked topside was unprepared for the assault of an archangel with two seasoned hunters—Dean and Bobby armed with the appropriate weapons.

“Your son had been helpful,” Gabriel said.

Rowena perked up at the mention of Fergus.

“Crafty, that one. He kept Lilith from escaping before I could get to her,” Gabriel told her with a wicked grin. “He got a few tricks from you, I noticed.”

When what felt like pride came over her, Rowena gave a little smile. Maybe it wasn’t too late for her and Fergus.

Gabriel continued, telling of a short trip to an alternate universe where the Winchester brothers existed as actors with different names and whose roles were Sam and Dean Winchesters in a show called Supernatural. Gabriel was particularly impressed at the very minute existence of magic in that world, making it the most ideal place to trap Lilith in their deepest ocean trench. Meanwhile, Rowena was just fairly impressed that somebody deigned to think of adapting Chuck’s awful books into a show.

Rowena started taking in food by afternoon, starting with a croissant that came directly from Paris. She wasn’t a fan of sweets, and Gabriel showered her with plenty, but the sugary and milky taste was a welcoming change in her bland pallet. The strawberries dipped in chocolate syrup were a blessing.

The hours moved faster that day compared to the days Rowena spent in the bed recently. By evening, Dean knocked to check on her.

“Huh. So that’s what you look like without the heavy make-up,” Dean said gruffly in greeting.

“Yes, because seeing my face bare is as bad as seeing me naked,” Rowena said flatly. “Not that I care with the latter.”

Dean huffed out a chuckle. “Damn it, I thought Gabe was lying when he said he has the best bedside manner.”

“Well, it’s not like that’s his only use…”

“Oh, c’mon. TMI.”

Rowena didn’t suppress the smirk. It was entertaining to make fun of Dean. “There’s strawberries involved if you’re curious to know.”

“I’m not!” Dean’s expression went aghast when his gaze landed on the bedsheets. “Bobby’s gonna kill me. Then he’ll kill you and Gabe. Just saying.”

“Noted, dear. By the time he finds out, we’re already gone and Robert will get nice silk sheets and a new mattress. He’s in badly need of one.”

“I’m telling you, he’ll appreciate those less than a simple ‘thank you’,” Dean said dryly. He observed her briefly before taking on a more somber note. “How are you doing, Rowena?”

“I’ve been better,” she said as nonchalantly as possible. Dean wasn’t deceived by it, looking sympathetic without saying anything else. Rowena was drained to bother wiping the look from his face. “Is that concern I see?”

Dean seemingly caught himself, glancing away. “Kinda.” He tilted his head to the side, adding, “Alastair got what he deserved.”

“I know,” she said, though Gabriel didn’t mention personally smiting Alastair. ”And you? How are you feeling, Dean?”

“Fine. Like always.” Dean seemed like he wanted to believe that. “I mean, I’ve had better days.”

“I never asked, but have you tried reaching Castiel?”

Dean seemed perplexed at the abrupt change of subject. “What for? As far as I know, Gabe’s the only angel who got back with us.”

“How do you know? Maybe he’s like you, the same way you purposely don’t involve yourself with Sam despite knowing what you know.”

“Assuming that’s true, there’s still the technicalities between Heaven and down here.”

She snorted. “That never stopped you before.”

Dean was miffed at the topic, and something told Rowena that he thought of the same thing before but kept making excuses otherwise. “Yeah, but judging from Sam’s reaction when I told him, it’ll probably take Cas centuries for that to sink in.” At Rowena’s astonishment, Dean smirked. “I told Sam yesterday.”

“Oh.”

“He doesn’t like that I put it off this long, but he’s glad that I told him. Better late than never, I guess.” Dean’s mouth twitched. “He asks a lot of things, and sometimes it’s a bit tricky to give him a straightforward answer, but what’s more difficult is when he looks at me and he tries not to see a stranger.” He shrugged, as casual as he could muster for the sake of appearance. “Could be worse, all things considered.”

Rowena decided that the last thing Dean needed was an assurance that they would be alright.

Rowena was startled to see Sam ambling outside the room not an hour later after Dean’s leave.

“Uh, hi, Ms. MacLeod,” Sam fumbled shyly in an adorable kind of way that Rowena would have teased the older Sam for. Instead, she was fairly stunned that Sam approached her first. “Can I come in?”

“Come in, Samuel.”

He was carrying a pot of tea, setting it down on the bedside like a peace offering. He stood there awkwardly as if waiting for permission to sit.

Rowena smiled and gestured at the foot of the bed. The mattress was beginning to grow on her if she must say so herself.

“It’s probably not a good time to ask, and it’s fine if you want to kick me out, but can I just—” He ran his hand through his hair.

“Ask away.” She took pity on the boy. “Dean told me that he told you.”

“Uh, yeah. He told me a lot. He also tells me about Prof. Shu—I mean, Gabriel, who’s an archangel.” Sam furrowed his brows at that. “And you. He said you’re a witch.”

“That I am.”

“And that you’re friends with us—well, Dean and the future me—after a rocky start.” Sam fiddled with his fingers like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. “It’s not that I’m against it, but thinking about getting involved with angels and demons alone… it’s insane. Time travel aside, it’s already insane.”

Rowena wondered how he would react to alternate words, but that was clearly a topic for another day. “You’re right; those are a lot to take in one sitting.” She sat back. “What do you want to ask me, Samuel?”

“Right. I’m—It’s not really a question, per se.” Sam shifted properly to face her. “Dean also mentioned to me about the supposed deaths. Jessica, first and foremost. I just want to say thank you for saving her, and by extension, me.”

“Och. It’s but a wee role in my part,” Rowena said, flattered, nonetheless. “I’m afraid Gabriel gets most of the credit with his creativity,” she admitted reluctantly, not that she would openly tell Gabriel that his idea of infiltrating Stanford was actually effective.

Sam shook his head. “We owe you just as much. Even Brady.” Sam glanced downwards. “I know I’m not the Sam that you know and grew close with, but I’m sure he’s proud of you.”

It should be strange that Sam referred to his older self as another person, and yet it wasn’t. Not really. At this point, Rowena no longer saw this young Sam becoming her Sam.

This Sam wouldn’t know of most hardships his other version experienced, and he would be happier and more liberated for it.

And seeing this untainted boy full of earnestness and optimism, Rowena thought that perhaps it was for the best.

They left the next day.

Of course, not without expressing their gratitude to their gracious host, Bobby Singer, who might have taken Gabriel’s leave as thanks of its own after the archangel-slash-trickster was said to have fooled around the salvage yard by changing it to different sceneries that Bobby didn’t particularly like.

While Rowena wasn’t a fan of the redneck appearance and Bobby didn’t appreciate her criticism on his mattress, she liked Bobby’s straightforwardness and literary knowledge. They formed a tentative association, with both lines kept open in case Bobby would be in need of advice on dealing with witchcraft.

“And I’m one pray away, Dean-o,” was Gabriel’s farewell to Dean.

Gabriel then popped them both back to their shared unit, and upon their arrival, Rowena was swept off her feet and was tucked to bed like a child. She huffed out an annoyed sigh, knowing she was bound for coddling by an angel, no less, though in the end the desire for a softer bed and familiar sheets eventually won her over.

These days, she just wanted to lie down and rest like an old person, which technically wasn’t wrong on normal circumstances.

Oh, well.

Gabriel jumped on the space next to her, sidling close with Rowena turning him to a makeshift pillow which was nice in a cozy way. Rowena wasn’t the cuddling type, though she supposed it was too late to assert that now after practically hogging Gabriel to herself in the past few days.

“We should take a vacation,” Gabriel suggested. “Niagara Falls is the perfect spot at this time of the year.”

Rowena could name at least three issues in taking a holiday dab smack in the middle of three waterfalls, but she humored him anyway. “Perfect for what exactly?”

“Skinny-dipping.”

She snorted. “Of course, dear. We’ll see in about a week.”

“Nah, no rush, Ro. Just putting the suggestion on the table. Take your time, Niagara could wait.”

Rowena lifted her head and setting her chin on his chest. Gabriel raised an eyebrow at her, and Rowena couldn’t resist taking his face in her hands tenderly. “What if it takes me years to fully recover?”

“Then I’m with you,” Gabriel said firmly. “It’s not time-wasting, Rowena, when it’s us walking together every step of the way to get better.”

Goodness, he could be romantic if he wanted to. “Thank you,” she said, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“I should be saying that,” he said humbly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “But you’re welcome.”

Rowena was lulled by Gabriel stroking her arm and carding her hair, and it wasn’t long until her eyes became heavy and she fell in an unbroken sleep at a place she started calling home.

“Good night, Rowena,” Gabriel whispered.

For once, he joined her in her dreams.

fin  

…

English translation for the Latin exorcism incantation:

I beckon you, the person who owns this body. Hear me and follow my voice. Take control and expel who fouls your temple. 

[thefragileblackdahlia]

Metamorphosis: Final part

Chapter Summary: Sam and Dean find that a family man is turning into a flesh-eating monster, and they argue about killing him. Ariel makes a big decision that leaves her crippled and alone.

Pairing(s): Eventual Dean x Archangel!OFC

Warning(s): Fluff, Heavy Angst, Blood, Nudity, Self-loathing, Kissing, Typical Supernatural violence, Mild Language

A/N: Here is an episode with some Sam content for those that really like Sam. I never really liked the Ruby storyline, but anyways here you go. Its a bit wonky everything will be explained in flashbacks, I promise. Kinder surprise egg.

Beta’d by no one

Word count: 11,308

     ◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

After Dean and Sam settled their dispute on the side of the road and Ariel, awkwardly third-wheeling it, they pulled up to Jack's home.

"Jack Montgomery?" A masculine voice came from behind Jack.

Jack stood in his backyard with the hose in his hand, watering the plants. With his back turned, Jack looked lively, but once the trio saw his face, they knew he was feeling out of it.

There were two men and a small woman standing between them. She also seemed pretty spaced out. The rougarou faced away from them after the little acknowledgment.

"I'm Sam Winchester. This is my brother, Dean...and This is Ariel." Sam gestured between the three of them, and when he got to Ariel, he gave her a small pat on the head, which made her cringe.

This action didn't go overlooked by Dean, but he chose to ignore it because she wasn't anyone special, and he wasn't relationship material.

The angel just observed the two men with her hands resting at her sides. She already knew the end of this situation, but she still wanted the boys to choose for their own. Outcomes were already unraveling in her head, and she wasn't sure if she should even tell the boys about the plan. Her thoughts were interrupted by Sam's husky voice. She decided not to, it wasn't the right time.

"We need to talk." The tall hunter stated in a firm but compassionate voice.

Jack finally whirled around to face the hunter who was walking forward and leaving Ariel and Dean standing in the far background. He glanced over at two and then back to Sam. "About?"

Dean tuned out Jack and Sam's conversation and solely focused on Ariel, who was evading every kind of contact there was after their bathroom situation. Maybe he should distance himself also.

A loud 'ahem' pulled him back down to earth.

"You're probably feeling your bones move under your skin. And your appetite's reaching, you know, 'Hungry hungry hippo' levels. How am I doing so far?" Dean adjusted himself and stepped to his brother and the man. He had an unreadable expression, but the annoyance in his voice told them that he didn't want to leave Ariel's side.

Jack was taken aback by Dean's forwardness. How could these strangers know all this stuff happening to him, and what does it mean? "Who the hell are you guys?"

"We're people who know a little something about something." Dean replied blankly as he casually shoved his hands in his jean pockets.

Sam pursed his lips at his brother's vague answer. "We're people who can help. Please, Just hear us out?" He corrected.

Jack hesitated. "Okay..."

Ariel roamed the garden, the square heels of her boots digging into the wet grass as she inspected the hedge bushes. They were cut in a particular oblong shape with a pointed tip. Staring at the plants offered her no solace, her mind ran rampant with the many slurs Raphael used to break her.

Though she was tortured for only a day, it wasn't the pain that broke her spirit. It was the lack of free will and control over the several millenniums that made her break down. She never thought escape would even be possible with Raphael always looming and dragging his blade across her skin. The fear of dying had never been so prominent for her. She was lucky when another Angel disobeyed, and Raphael was distracted by Angel radio. When he turned his back, she drew a banishing symbol.

Having her grace sucked out of her, traumatized her in ways that some couldn't even imagine. They never did this to Lucifer; they just tossed him out of heaven and put him in a cage. It felt almost violating, regardless if it would replenish itself; It left a mental impression.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Instinctively, her eyes lit up. It was her only way of fending off whoever chose to sneak up on her. She promptly spun around and reached for the culprit's throat.

It was Dean.

"Woah, Woah. Okay!" The jaded hunter caught her hand and held it in his, tenderly. He subtly caressed her palm with his thumb and flashed her a wary smile. "C'mon, feathers. Time to go quickly." He wrapped his other hand around her wrist and pulled her toward the gate while frequently looking over his shoulder.

Sam hastily exited the garden and climbed into the running impala. "Feathers?" He laughed and put on his seat belt.

Ariel's voice cut over Sam's laughter. It was soft and enchanting. "It's not like I call you legs 'cause they're shaped funny? Don't call me feathers."

Sam started. "Legs actually sounds like an appropriate nickname-"

Dean immediately cut his brother off. "Alright, let's get some food and then stake out!" He clapped his hands together and turned up the music. "And they are not shaped funny." He added.

Sam just laughed over the music and carded his fingers through his chestnut hair.

. . .

The trio was seated at a table in Biggerson's. Ariel sat across from Dean, and Sam sat adjacent.

"So, That is coffee, and sometimes sugar helps make it less bitter." Sam reached for the can of sugar and slid it over to the angel.

Ariel grasped the sides of the mug and brought the cup to her lips. She never once tried any of the human inventions, she didn't need to, but to blend in, she had to. Her eyes widened as the bitter hot liquid touched the tip of her tongue. She coughed and quickly placed the china down and dumped a significant amount of sugar into the cup.

"Ariel-" Dean started with a chuckle as he watched her sweeten her coffee, but soon the sugar to coffee ratio would be too much, so he snatched the canister away and placed it on an empty table.

"What? It was gross." She cooed as she looked between Sam and Dean, who were just holding back their laughter. They shared similar expressions, one someone would make when looking at a toddler or small child. Is that how they saw her? She was billions upon billions of years older, how dare they.

Sam cleared his throat and leaned forward with his elbows perched on the table. "So, Ariel...Did you know?" The mood instantly plummeted by that question. Should she say all of heaven knew? That would only kill his spirit that every angel knew who Sam and Dean Winchester were.

"I did, I know a lot of things that happen or is going to happen. But different choices branch off, and that's when things get murky." Ariel replied shortly. She and Dean made eye contact once she revealed this information. She brought the mug to her lips, her gaze still on the older hunter.

"Wait, so you knew, but you didn't say anything to me?" Dean mumbled. His tone was accusatory as if Ariel was the offending one. "Why would you not tell me something like that? That comes before everything else."

" I am here to help lead you both to redemption. So, Don't you dare take that tone with me, because I saved your brother when I was the one who would be tasked with 'stopping' him." Ariel spit fired.

"Well, I had to find out from Constantine that my brother was ganking demons with a demon, which I actually thought was dead!" Dean countered. He narrowed his eyes at the offending angel, letting his anger take control of his mouth once again.

The enraged hunter leaned into the table and clenched his jaw. "And stop him? Not only did you forget to tell me he was hanging with Ruby and using his powers, but YOU; You were supposed to kill him?!" He tried to keep his voice down best he could, but the word kill grasped a waitress's attention.

"I'm sorry, did you miss the part where I risked my life for you and your stupid brother?! I fell for you, Dean, in so many ways you cannot even fathom, you incompetent human being." Ariel lamented. The sound of her voice breaking tore Sam out of deep thought.

"Well- No one asked you to, and I sure as hell didn't ask you to fall either. Y'know, I knew you were too good to be true. No one would just waltz into our lives, offering help just for the sake of doing good." Dean drawled with a stoic expression.

The lights in the restaurant began flickering, and her mug cracked down the middle.

Those words sent a pang through her vessel's heart.

"Ariel- you have to calm down!" Sam whisper shouted as he glanced around at everyone who just gawked at the ceiling in confusion.

Ariel fixed her doe-eyes on Sam, but his words did not compute. Tears began filling her eyes and falling in rivulets down her pink cheeks.

'Damnit,' Dean thought. 'She looked pretty when she cried.'

"Y'know, you are just like him. And when one of you end up dying, do not expect me to come running just because you prayed." She whispered before pushing herself up from the booth and making her way to the exit.

With each clack of Ariel's heels hitting the tiled floor, it sent a pang of regret through Dean's heart. When the door slammed close, Dean flinched.

Sam scoffed. "You're unbelievable. She risked her own life to help us, Dean." He scolded him. "What is wrong with you, Dean?" The tall hunter asked in a spiteful tone.

"Yeah, Well, No one asked her to." Dean ignored Sam's questions. Shortly after he had processed what he said, he regretted everything. He wanted to go after her, pull her into a hug, and possibly stay like that for a while. "It's getting late. I'm gonna hit the can, and then we can go."

"Whatever." Sam just scoffed at his asshole of a brother and got up from the table and left the restaurant.

This reaction prompted Dean to just hurry to the bathroom. Once inside, he checked to see if anyone might be using it, then he locked the door when he found no one. He hunkered over the ceramic sink. The troubled hunter let out a breath.

Dean just wanted control, but he lost that long ago when he was just a boy. He struggled to maintain his composure as he recollected how he treated Ariel when all she wanted to do was help him. He was just so angry, and he had no idea how to control it. And the longer he stood in front of the mirror, the more he wanted to thrust his head straight through the glass.

She not only told him hours before that someone she cared about did the same but that he reminded her of him. He could barely hold it together. Was it a good thing that he reminded her of that guy or a bad thing? And why him? What's so great about him?

A portion of him wanted to pray to the archangel, but the stubborn side took ahold of the wheel and told him not to and that what he said to her was reasonable. He tore himself away from his reflection and shuffled over to the door to unlock it.

. . .

Later that night, Dean and Sam tracked down Jack back to his house and found what was left of Travis. Jack attacked them, effectively knocking out both of them. Ariel nowhere to be seen.

Sam awoke from his comatose state with a faint gasp. It took him a moment to grasp his surroundings and remember where he was. He panicked once he realized his brother was nowhere to be found. He pushed himself to his feet and tried the door handle, but it was locked. "Dean?"

"Dean can't come to the phone right now." Jack muttered as he swayed back and forth.

That response enraged Sam. He just got his brother back, and he couldn't lose him now, not when there's so much more left to fight. Samuel slammed his hand against the door. "Jack! If you hurt him, I swear to God!" He bellowed as he banged his hand against the wood again.

Jack sniffled and swayed harder. "Calm down!" He looked over at Dean, who was knocked out and sprawled over the coffee table with a wound on to his head. "Your brother's alive." He added.

The rougarou's head whipped around at the closet door, "But not if you don't calm down!" He asserted.

This note made Sam relax, as long as Dean was alive- there was a chance he could wake up. Sam shut his eyes and pressed his forehead against the door, his breathing labored.

Sam pressed his hand against the door and let out a low exhaled. "Alright, Jack. Listen. Open the door. We can figure this out, okay?" He tried to reason.

Jack let out a hysterical laugh. "We'll have ourselves a little brainstorming session."

"Jack, please." Sam begged.

"I don't think so, after what you did." Jack uttered.

"What? What are you talking about?" Sam figured it would be a while until he was let out of the closet, so he began searching his pockets for anything to pick the lock.

"You send your friend here. He tried to burn my wife alive!" Jack's voice began breaking as his body slowly morphed.

Sam halted his search at that accusation. "What? Why?" He looked around the closet for anything pointy and found a metal hanger, grabbing it.

There was a long pause.

Jack tilted his head to the side. "He didn't say." He glanced over at Dean, who was still unconscious. "I guess psychopaths don't have to explain themselves." Jack sneered and crawled toward his limp body. All of a sudden, Dean's blood looked delightful.

Samuel kept his head to the door as he spoke."Listen to me. You gotta believe me. My brother and I, we never would have hurt her, okay?" He quickly unraveled the metal hanger and reformed it so he could pick the lock.

Jack stopped by Dean's face, and with a wavering hand, he dipped his fingers in the little pool of blood that formed by Dean's head. He tried fighting it, but there was no use. The monster raised his blood-soaked digits to his lips and licked his fingers dry. "Oh, God. I'm so hungry." He began rocking back and forth, contemplating.

"Jack, don't do this." The hunter knelt and attempted to pick the lock.

"I can't ever see my family again." Jack paused. "You two...your friend--you made me into this!" He roared.

"No one's making you kill us." Sam began working the lock, struggling to get the door open. He feels overall defeated and lowers his hand. He needed to stall. "Listen to me." The trapped hunter began to sympathize with closed eyes. "You got this dark pit inside. I know. Believe me, I know." Sam opened his eyes and began picking the lock again. "But that doesn't mean you have to fall into it. You don't have to be a monster."

Sam only heard a mocking laugh come from Jack before he began talking. "Have you seen me lately?"

The hazel-eyed hunter let out a low sigh as he gave it one last try. "It doesn't matter what you are." He took a long pause. "It only matters what you do. It's your choice." Sam felt like he would never get out in time, so he desperately prayed to Ariel. "Ariel, I don't know where you are or if you are even listening, but we need you..."

Jack stilled for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. The pain of restraining himself began to wear him down. He groaned and opened his mouth wide and inched toward Dean. He restrained himself best he could, but now he was ravenous. Dean began stirring awake, moving only slightly. The rougarou's mouth only inches away from Dean's neck before a high pitched ringing overcame the silence, followed by the closet door slamming open behind Jack.

"Bad Jackie." Ariel quipped with her shoulders, rolled back as a blinding light filled the room, and her wings projected on the wall.

Sam came bursting in with the makeshift flamethrower at the ready, but his eyes landed on the Archangel. She came.

Jack stumbled back from Dean as he witnessed the angel asserting her dominance and vigor. She was intimidating, but that didn't dissuade Jack from getting up to fight. The monster pushed himself to his feet and lunged for the woman.

Ariel took a hefty step forward and connecting her right knee to the monster's jaw, sending him collapsing to the floor with a broken jaw. She beamed.

The loud commotion awoke Dean completely. He rolled off the table, his mouth and eyes wide with panic and confusion. Why would she come to save them after what he said? He wanted to question it so badly, but he just accepted it. Dean never looked away from her outstretched wings; they were so beautiful.

Sam watched with wide eyes and labored breathing. It was very intense for him, witnessing Ariel fight for the. Jack was no competition for her, even on a bad day, and it made Sam feel secure and safe.

"Godspeed." Ariel cooed. Her eyes lit up with grace, causing Jack's eyes and mouth filled with a white-hot light, and then soon, his whole body caught fire.

Dean looked to Ariel and then Sam, who sported a disappointed look as he watched the monster crumple to the ground. He swallowed hard. "Ariel, you came." Sam breathed.

"Well, you prayed." Ariel cooed softly and put out a hand for Dean to grab.

"Thanks ..." Sam smiled wanly.

"Let's go, Legs." She added with a smile.

The surly hunter glanced over at Sam, who just had a tired smile. "Why did you pray?" Dean gruffed and stood by himself. He ignored her.

Sam sighed. "You were about to be eaten, Dean."

"Dean," Ariel started with a step toward the stubborn hunter. "Don't pretend to hate me cause I made an honest mistake. I didn't want to scare you."

Dean curled and uncurled his fingers as he listened to her words. "No, something like that isn't a mistake. Lying isn't a mistake, you made that choice."

The redhead took a wary step back. "Can you for once get your head out of your ass, It is not a hat!" She uttered.

"Fuck you." Dean shouted and stepped to the offending angel. His chest fluctuated as he glared down at Ariel, who returned his gaze.

"Fuck me? Fuck you! It's not my fault you can't handle the truth!" Ariel argued.

"The truth?! You have no right to talk about truths! All you did was lie to me." Dean huffed, taking another step closer.

They were now three feet apart.

"Lie to you?! Dean Winchester, you are the God of lying! Your whole life, you conned and stole. I decided to not tell you that Sam is hanging with a demon and that my job as an archangel would be to kill Samuel if he went dark side for your benefit!" Ariel stomped her foot down to put emphasis on the word benefit. She continued, "You just came back from Hell, you discovered Angels were real, you went back in time and witnessed so much death. Why in the world would I want to add to that?"

"I never asked for any of this! I have been taking care of me and Sammy my whole life, you do not get to waltz in here with your pretty red wings and decide what's good for us. I don't care how old you are." The angered hunter closed the three-foot gap between them and gestured to himself and the door where Sam should have been standing.

The only word that Ariel picked up was Red. "Red?" She questioned with a shaky breath. "You can see my wings?" Her eyes were wide.

Dean remained silent once he realized he let slip that he can see her wings. He wanted to apologize, but something prevented him from articulating. The way she asked him and how her eyelashes fluttered every time she looked away made his blood pump faster. It took him a moment for him to realize that she had expected an answer. Was he supposed to talk now? Fuck.

"I'm sorry..." Ariel whispered in an oppressive tone. She fixed her gaze on the broken man in front of her.

The righteous man withdrew sharp breaths threw his teeth. He parted his lips in an attempt to apologize, but only nonsense came out. "I- You know-"

The woman tentatively raised her fingers to his cheek. "You're sorry?" She palpitated as she crept closer to his front.

Dean felt inclined to lean into her touch, shutting his eyes, and gave her a slight nod. It was the first time she actively tried to touch him since he dreamt, and the sensation was intoxicating.

"I'm sorry. I just get so angry...I don't know why." He choked out, licking his lips to prevent them from drying. His eyes wandered down her face to her fleshy pink lips. It was tempting, and there would be nothing to drag them apart now. Dean raised both shaky hands to her head and clutched both sides of her face.

Ariel's sapphire orbs bounced between Dean's eyes and lips. "I didn't mean to call you an asshat or lie to you. I should have told you-" She whispered in a quivery tone.

"You talk too much." Dean growled as he hastily yanked Ariel into a deep, heartfelt kiss. He nearly knocked her over with the amount of force he exerted.

The buzzing started again.

Once their mouths united, a surge of exaltation billowed through Ariel's body. The man squeezed her face, afraid she might disappear at any given moment.

Dean furrowed his brows as his teeth nibbled at her bottom lip. His tongue danced wildly behind his teeth; he could not wait any longer. The jaded man attacked her neck, pressing wet sloppy kisses against her feverish skin.

The pushing and pulling overwhelmed the vessel, the coil wounding up and tightening as heat pooled between Ariel's legs. She tossed her arms over Dean's shoulders and raked her nails across his nape. She wanted the buzzing to stop. They needed to be one.

They almost forgot there was a burning man on the floor until Sam rushed into the house and cleared his throat. "Sorry to interrupt. But we gotta go." Sam affirmed.

The two tore apart almost immediately. Ariel worked her fingers through her tangled hair and looked to Sam with lust blown eyes and swollen lips. She cleared her throat and fixed her jacket collar.

"Right." Dean huffed and speedily left for the exit.

. . .

Baby pulled off into the sunrise.

    ◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

[wayward-winchester67]

1 Reason Why Season 14 Will Be Unlike The Rest

*DISCLAIMER: this is opinionated and not canon nor the factual truth. These are simply MY options. What I say here may not happen nor may it be true.*

1. Because everything will change. Sure, the characters (in the sense that Sam, Dean, and Castiel are the main characters) and the general setting will remain the same, however in my opinion, I think the entire dynamic will change.

The most important shift? Dean being possessed. This will wreak havoc like no other on the show. Dean has never been really taken away, other than hell and his demon-fueled crusade. However, having him be gone AND possessed, (which poses the problem of not just finding him, but additionally finding a way to get him and ONLY him back, without Michael), will add a massive increase of pressure. To Sam, he has always had this brother. His constant in his life. But now he has to face the daunting task of being without his brother, finding out how to get him back, finding out where he is, and actually getting him back, while knowing that he is still out there. On a similar hand, Castiel has never really been without Dean. Sam has dealt with losing Dean to hell and the trickester in Mystery Spot, but Castiel has only dealt with the demon adventure. This poses a whole new territory to him. Because it isn’t Dean whom Castiel is trying to save him from, but rather a powerful archangel. Now, this isn’t to say that Castiel will have a harder time than Sam. I personally think both will struggle equally, just in differing ways. In addition to their side of the struggle, there is also the effects of being possessed on Dean. He has never quite experienced being possessed. His only opponent has been defeatable evils and himself. However, how will being trapped in his own body against a seemingly invincible, powerful angel affect his mental health? This will cause enormous changes in Dean’s character. For one, he will be rendered completely powerless and unable to stop an evil. Let’s also take into consideration what happens after. He will probably think that he has let his family down, that he has failed at his job to protect them. He might even think less of himself for not being able to stop him. Power has always been a thing Dean has had access to. Maybe he might feel without it and like he never may have it again. How will this change how character? To be without power? Personally, I’m not too sure. At the very least, it’s bound to lead to a major mental breakdown. I think that in season 14, Dean having a mental breakdown will be inevitable. And for such a strong character to break down- it will speak volumes about how his character has changed. This will change the entire dynamic in between Sam, Dean, and Castiel. Every character, whether in a small or large way, will go through some sort of significant change. Significant enough to change the very essence of the character. Not all is to be bad though. This could lead to the characters actually sharing their feelings and being a bit more honest with each other. After a traumatic event like this, it will be heavily needed.

Now, I said Dean being possessed would be the most major shifting event in the season. However, there are still minor problems. For example, Castiel (and possibly Jack) dealing with the Heaven problem AKA lack of angels. Who knows the outcome? If more angels are created, this changes the ancient ways. The new angels could be trained for the greater good and given knowledge that the original ones were not given. And if not? If Heaven runs out of angels? Heaven may collapse and you can only imagine how this would change everything. All those souls, out of Heaven and without a place to go. What about the new souls? The ones who just died. No place to go. Every place would be absolutely teeming with souls and spirits alike. Because eventually, the souls would turn into spirits and ghosts and ghosts are never good. Or perhaps the stress simply trying to solve the problem would put on Team Free Will. It’s always one thing after another, never an end. But this is something that they may not have a solution for. And if they don’t- it will not be good.

Another minor problem- the apocalypse world people. Never have we ever in this show had mass numbers of characters who were just people join their universe. This changes the possibilities of the show. Because now we have people from a destroyed world join one that isn’t ruined. Will they wreak havoc on this world? Will they help preserve it? We don’t know. This is a whole new ball park which could go either way. We haven’t had problems quite like this in previous seasons. New things for introduced last season that weren’t so much addressed then as much as to be left until now. And now? It has to be dealt with. And dealing with that stuff will mean change is underway.

Overall, a lot will change in the coming season. Some bad. Some good. We don’t know and that’s for us to find out. No matter what happens, we know this season will be a pivotal turning point in which things will change and become different than they were before. So my message to you all? Watch the show and see what happens. Create your own theories and watch them change as the season progresses. Write down what you think may happen. See how it compares to canon. And have fun watching this new season. Welcome to season 14!