#Jimmy would be feeling the echoes of Cas's feelings

[casdeans-pie]

I really want to write a fic where some hijinks happen and Jimmy ends up back in his own body for a little while without Cas

Dean is of course madworriedupset because he's always madworriedupset whenever Cas is in trouble. And even though he's Right There, that's Not Him, and that's just not acceptable

It's not like Jimmy wants to be there either.

So research begins.

But Jimmy gets increasingly twitchy whenever Dean speaks to him. can't even look at him. and Dean gets kind of bitchy about it and asks what his deal is

Jimmy closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and grinds out that he's finding it really weird and confusing to be in what should be his own body but it now clearly belongs to Castiel because even though he barely knows Dean he wants to grab his face and kiss him and it's very distracting.

But look, it's not Jimmy's fault that he assumed they were a couple because the Yearning For Dean Winchester seems baked into his very bones and Dean is Fully Freaking Out over Castiel's unexplained absence.

It's not Jimmy's fault that he can't handle the intensity of the Yearning For Dean Winchester that Castiel is using an angelic amount of self control over 24/7.

It's not Jimmy's fault that Dean knew none of this.

He may have just outed an angel.

The sooner they can swap back the better.

[maxybabyy]

It’s barely noon.

Daniel has only been back in Monaco for a handful of hours, burnt out from flying commercial and dressed obnoxiously in bright orange, and still, he’s here.

He pulls up Max’s text one more time and stares sceptically at the building in front of him. But he’s in the right spot, the tiny guy on the map right on top of the address Max had sent.

The lady behind the reception desk looks up when he enters, a polite smile on her lips as she comes forward to greet him, “Bonjour monsieur, comment ca va?”

Daniel’s been here for too long for his French to be as bad as it is, stutters out a, “Ca va bien,” before he switches to English. “Uh, I’m here for my cats?”

“Certainly,” she says, her accent even less pronounced than Charles’. She goes back behind the desk, points out the small bevvy station on her way there. Daniel’s been in formula one for over ten years, has lived in Monaco for most of that, but this fucking cat hotel may still be the fanciest shit he’s been to. “May I ask what cats you are here for?”

Daniel jiggles the handle of the coffeemaker, watches what he hopes is coffee drip into the branded to-go cup. “Uh, Jimmy and Sassy? They’re like, Bengals, with the stripes and shit? If you have two cats that look the same, I reckon it’s probably them,” he says, searches and fails to locate a lid.

The lady coughs, and Daniel decisively doesn’t look at her, cannot – knows she has to be laughing at him. Fucking, disaster step-cat dad that he is; Max would already have them loaded up in the car and be on his way.

“The cats are registered with internal ID numbers, monsieur. I cannot tell you if we have your cats otherwise, my apologies,” she tells him, not unkind.

“Right, yeah. Let me get those for you then,” he says, chuckles. He scrolls back to the cursed message that had started it all, rattles off the IDs for both cats to the lady’s mild surprise.

‘you of course don’t have to, but always the cats like it better when they can be at home.’ He reads back now, wishes he had never ventured into the world of cat sitting and long-term pet boarding.

“I will have someone come out with your cats right away, monsieur Verstappen,” she says, taps away at the computer for a moment before the printer starts to spit out a stack of papers. “If I can just have you sign here, you will be all set.”

Daniel swallows down half of the coffee, scrapes his teeth over his tongue to mask the burn. “’course, I’m not Max, though. Just for filing purposes, I guess.” He says, scribbles his signature on the dotted line. It’s the same fucking signature that he would do on a hat or whatever the fans put in front of him, and it shouldn’t make him feel embarrassed, but it does. “My name’s Daniel. Ricciardo, I should be on the list though.”

The lady smiles, licks her finger to flick a page. “Certainly, monsieur Ricciardo.”

A man in his early twenties comes out, a cat carrier in each arm. He puts the cats on the desk and rattles off a report of their stay these past weeks, the meals they had, how they behaved, their moods.

Daniel tries to listen, makes himself remember enough that Max will be satisfied even if they didn’t also send out an update by mail every three days. The guy doesn’t stop talking, so Daniel nods along, pokes his finger through the grid and watches Sassy swat at it; Jimmy who gives him a polite lick.

Even if their names weren’t printed on the carrier, this would give them away. That at least he knows.

“Great, yeah. Thanks mate,” Daniel says and moves them down to rest by his feet. “Do I need to pay something, or will we get an invoice, or like?”

“Monsieur Verstappen has an account with us, so there is no need for that. He will be notified by mail. But I can offer you a receipt?” She says, and even she sounds unsure about the offer.

“Yeah, that would be good, cheers.”

The printer makes another noise, and one of the cats meows in response, the other quick to echo. She hands it over with a smile, and Daniel stuffs it into his pocket with a quick ‘thanks’ and picks up his cats to leave.

He’s lying on the couch later, Jimmy on his chest and Max’s latest voice message playing over the phone when he finally pulls out the receipt.

“You’re such a fucking spoilt cat, Jims.” He says, kisses his head.

Jimmy meows softly, bumps his chin with his head, so Daniel kisses him again, watches his tail flick in the air.

Yeah, alright, he thinks, maybe they do deserve it.  

[demenior]

go full keith ya dumbass and the novaks for wip ask

Check my list of current wips here and send me a title and I’ll post a bit or share some details about it.

the novaks is where i've been putting ideas about how The Novak Family fits in the the love it takes series. The basic idea is that the Novaks (Amelia and Claire) end up in the Winchester orbit at some point, and then pain. I don't have any scenes written, but here's the ideas:

Amelia reads Dean n Cas a new one for stealing and killing her husband

When she finds out Dean n Cas are Together she rightfully goes after Dean for sleeping with her husbands’ corpse

Why couldn’t Cas have taken someone else? Why couldn’t he have gotten a new vessel? Does he even understand how hard it is to know Jimmy’s gone? That Jimmy trusted Cas and now he’s dead, and now they have an empty grave because Cas is still out in the world with Jimmy’s body and neither Amelia nor Claire can get any closure

Amelia also gets to be pissed for the crisis of faith she got: God and angels are real, but they don’t care about you. They will destroy your family and you get nothing in return.

Claire asks Cas to hold her for a minute. Because that's her dad, or at least his body. It's a strange creature wearing her dad's skin and calling it his own now. And she's a girl who lost her father and misses him desperately.

“Dad put his arms like this” “Do you want me to do that?” “Yeah. And don’t… don’t talk for a minute, okay?”

She just wants to be held by her dad one last time, and cries into Cas' arms

Claire, who can kinda Perceive Cas’ true form, because she’s a vessel: hey you got bigger (or changed?)

Cas, looking at Claire who is a few years older now: so did you

---

go full keith ya dumbass is a segment from an (unfinished) Switch the Beat series (Voltron) in which, well, Keith was going Full Keith and launching himself into space. This bit focused on Keith tapping into the bond with the Red Lion, as I was going to start exploring the Paladin bond (and what the Lions are) in the next Switch story

--

The darkness of Keith's closed eyes grows deeper, like Keith has stepped into something dark and enveloping. Gravity finds him, and Keith settles on his feet. There's cold around his ankles, a river moving in one direction.

He's been here before. This is what it's like to bond with a lion. The water is alive in the way a wild animal is alive. It's unpredictable, unknowable and untamable. At this first level it's mostly safe. The current isn't too strong, the water is shallow. Keith would have to work to be lost here. But to strengthen the bond he has to venture deeper. To be heard he needs to be deeper. 

Keith walks slowly, testing his steps before he commits his weight. He runs through the training in his mind.

The first layer of the bond is simple. It's basic awareness. He can command his Lion from here, but it's basically like treating it like any other ship. There's nothing special here, but it is the first step in becoming a Paladin. Allura has guided them here several times before. Keith glances down at his hands-- he can see the strings that represent the other Paladins tied around his wrists. They never tangle, and they don't get dragged along in the water. They float off into the darkness, to some unknowable destination. Keith isn't sure how it connects them all, but he knows the deeper they go, even when they form Voltron, he can feel the others like an echo in his bones. 

Keith finds his way to the gate. The second level, to go deeper into the bond, lays ahead. He rarely taps into this-- only in the midst of battle when they need to form Voltron or he needs his Lion to respond to him in ways no ship can.

The gate is made of stairs, almost invisible in the dark and under the flow of chilled water. Keith stands on the edge. He can remember standing on this precipice all those weeks ago, the first time they formed Voltron, when the bonds on his wrist had dragged him down and into the dark. 

"Hey!" He calls, "can you hear me? I need help!"

He waits, and waits, and there is no response. The water is freezing, even through his armor. Keith can see his breath when he exhales.

"Okay," he decides, "I'm coming in." 

Keith walks down the stairs.

[varianwinchester]

So I today in Tumblr I discovered what I’d wager only a fraction of what Supernatural means to the queer fans. I read about different iterations of characters, different labels or labeless. And oh my Chuck do I love them all! I know that Supernatural is (in)famous for queer baiting, and I had been a fan of Destiel since Cas walked in wearing Jimmy, but I didn’t see how Supernatural can amazingly be molded into reflections of the queer community. I mean, admittedly, I’ve seen myself half of me as ace (spectrum) Sam and half as bi Dean. The story of Supernatural is one that can slip easily into a queer story for characters or being a queer story in plot and that’s what makes it so fucking wonderful to me. How that is pointed out and expressed through posts I’ve read.

What saddens me is hearing about the actors. Please separate character from actors- it can be hard, what other character can this person be after 15 years? They must’ve lent some of themselves to their character of course, they carried out the character the manner they did sure. All that can be added for or against queer analysis cases. But when it comes to an actors support of these queer readings, as much as it would be incredibly amazing for them to voice “yes, I’m glad you saw that” or what’s in between, that’s not always going to happen. These are (mostly) cis straight and white Gen Xers as actors and creators. It’s probably an echo-chamber of old-timely views. My parents are Gen Xers and at 52 and 47, they are still learning to be more accepting and understanding of the queer community. I am not discrediting how disheartening and disappointing it is to see the actors go the opposite direction of interpretations or ships, but it is not a reason to hate them. “Hate” feels like it leans toward cancel culture to me. We shouldn’t hate nor cancel people for their mistakes, we must educate. All your debated points they are at your disposal! I love these actors so much, I felt like defending them. Not defending what they’ve said- what’s wrong is wrong, but recognizing that we all are human. We are raised in different times, environments, and cultures. Some can be very narrow visioned and some very open. We are humans. Forever learning and growing emotionally and mentally until our dying days.

[transgenders4jimmymcgill]

Chapter 1: The Bar

TW: Blood, SH

Song of the chapter: https://youtu.be/77R1Wp6Y_5Y

Hello, how are you? Have you been alright? Through all those lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely nights? That's what I'd say, I'd tell you everything - If you'd pick up that telephone.

Jimmy's POV:

The bar smelled of cigarette smoke and vomit, as usual. What you do to get cheap beer. It was only 3PM and some of the regulars were tussling in the back, near the old stage that was in shambles. Some yells and loud laughs echoed up to the bar where I sat rolling my finger along the rim of a glass of a double whiskey. The smell of the drink made its way up and burned my nose. Refreshing.

"You've been here a while, boss," the bartender snapped me out of the borderline dissociation this dark, decrepit hole in the wall always lured me into.

"Yeah, yeah," I shook my head a little and instinctually fixed my tie, even though it wasn't even out of place. "Just, uh...." No words. "Just had a few extra hours to kill," I tried to give a little smile before looking away.

"Whatever you say," the bartender raised his eyebrows before walking away, helping one of the regular day drinkers.

This wasn't my normal scene, although no one would bat an eye if it was. It was unlike me to visit the bar at 3PM on a Tuesday, but work had been tough recently and I figured some alcohol might be in order before I lose my mind. Well, I'm starting to think this is only speeding up the mind-losing process, but hey, take what you can get.

I was almost back to my trance-like state when a small group of rowdy young adults walked in. Aha! Young 20-year olds day drinking. An immediate DUI case for the grabbing.

"Ah, the life of the party is here," the bartender spoke suddenly next to me.

I looked at him. "Regulars?" I asked. The party was making its way over to the far end of the bar as our heads nonchalantly followed them.

"Not all of them, but..." the bartender was trying to get a clear view. "That one," he motioned in the direction of a strangely effeminate man. His hair was in a ponytail, but still long enough to fall down towards his back in curls, accentuating his jawline which was covered in a light stubble. He wore a black leather jacket, with tight black PVC pants and slightly platformed rocker boots. "He alone could keep this place on its feet," the bartender chuckled.

I was taken aback. I looked down at my hands on the counter, starting to question my life choices. Not now. God, not now. A man? Seriously? I looked over at the stranger again, dazzled by his mysteriously feminine beauty. "Gotta love the young-un's," I grumbled, trying to steer away the attention of the bartender.

"Yep. You might wanna stick around, they're pretty fun to watch once they get into it," the bartender smirked as he turned and walked towards the group at the end of the bar.

My gaze followed him over, my eyes still on the man who was now laughing to a woman dressed all gothic sitting next to him. My eyes made their way up and down his figure, noticing his nails were painted black and the silver rimmed, slightly-circular glasses he was wearing. Black circles in his earlobes, with a bar through his upper ear. Before I was able to notice just how long I had been staring at him, his eyes were looking back at me. Deep, beautiful bro-

Fuck. Play it off.

The man's eyes scanned me up and down, a smirk appearing on his lips as he sensually bit on the toothpick between his teeth. I pretended to clear my throat and gave a little two-fingered wave back before quickly swiveling my head back straight, looking down at the bottles of liquor lining the wall behind the bar. Fuck. Fuck me. How could I make a mistake like that? I could still feel the stranger's eyes burning a hole into my existence, before suddenly, they were gone.

There's no way a beautiful person like that could find me attractive. What am I, anyways? All I am is a sleazy, no good poor lawyer who probably looks like he smells. It's not like this person could possibly-

I caught myself there.

What the hell was I doing? Thinking about another man like this?  What was wrong with me? Dear god.

"Hey James!" I heard someone suddenly call from the stage area. My head snapped up. "Come sing for us!" Before confusion could fully sweep over me, the dark stranger was out of his bar stool and making his way over to the stage, drink in hand.

"What're we singing?" He asked his companion as his other friends followed behind him. As he took a step up on the stage, he turned, exposing a cut crop top underneath his leather jacket that showed just enough of his slightly hairy, lean abs.

Oh Jesus Christ. I could feel a heat building up in my lower abdomen. I looked away. "Another," I motioned to the bartender who was a few feet away.

"The usual?" the woman at the karaoke machine asked the man. He shrugged, looked back at his friends, who nodded at them. It was going on 4 now, and the bar was starting to fill with more people. They sat at dispersed tables, watching the young folks' shenanigans and reminiscing on when they used to do the same thing. It felt like I was trapped, being watched by all these eyes, even though no one had the slightest clue what was going on in my head.

The bartender silently slid the next drink over to me.

As I took a drink, the room filled with familiar music. Fucking Electric Light Orchestra? Didn't realize the 70's were making a comeback. I glanced back to the stage where the man and a few of his friends were prancing around, gearing up with their microphones. They'd only been in here for a few minutes, how drunk could they be already?

"Hello? How are you?" The voice was smooth and deep, a perfect match to the lyrics. It couldn't be.... Could it? It was. The man singing into the microphone, dancing with his friends on the stage. I just now realized how short he was, noticeably shorter than even his female friends next to him.

"Have you been alright?" The man on the staged turned, immediately locking eyes with me. I tried to look away, but I couldn't. Across the room, the stranger smirked at me. "Through all those lonely, lonely, lonely," he dragged out the lyrics, his free hand looped in the microphone cord and rested on the belt of his pants. "Lonely, lonely nights?" He slowly dragged his hand slightly up his bare abs, moving his hips to the music.

Oh hell. I broke away, turning back to the bar, even though I knew it was too late. But I couldn't help myself. I looked back.

"That's what I'd say," The man winked at me. "I'd tell you everything," He briefly bit his lip. "If you'd pick up that telephone."

I felt like I was just smacked, hard. At the same time, it felt like I was in a trance. I couldn't look away from the stage throughout the rest of the song. By the end, I noticed how tight and hot my suit felt. I was itching to get out of the bar, but I just couldn't make myself leave.

The group made their way down from the stage, laughing and dancing with each other. Someone else replaced them, the bar filling with music once again. "Quite the show, huh?" the bartender's voice surprised me.

"Uh, yeah," I tried to force a chuckle when I looked back at him. "Maybe I should day drink more often." The bartender laughed and walked away to take another order.

The group was walking back to their end of the bar when I turned back. But the man wasn't with them. I scanned the room and noticed him back towards the stage, taking slow steps, trailing behind his group. He looked suddenly quite dazed, looking down at his hands with an indecipherable look on his face, looking at something I couldn't see from this distance.

He stumbled before catching himself, shaking his head a little bit. He looked side to side, seemingly to figure out if anyone noticed. Immediately he started towards the door, taking quick steps while almost swaying side to side. It didn't seem like it was just the alcohol.

He seemed rushed. As he threw open the door to the bar, I noticed a deep, shiny red coating his hand. I stuck my hands in my pockets, desperately grabbing around for the money to leave the bartender. As soon as I grasped some bills, I put them on the bar and stood, walking briskly towards the door.

I didn't immediately open it. I looked through the foggy glass, trying to make out where the stranger was headed. After he stumbled a few times, I made my way out the door, trying to follow him without drawing too much attention. He was headed towards an old orange truck on the far side of the parking lot. He made it to the third row of cars before I saw him fall to the ground.

I gasped, looking around for anyone else that could possibly be around. There was no one. I ran to him, a million thoughts racing through my mind. What the fuck was going on?

He was on the ground on his side facing away from me, gripping his left wrist. His hands were dripping blood. He was scrambling to get up, but it was as though his body just didn't have the energy. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he was muttering to himself.

I couldn't figure out what to say. "What's," I stumbled over my words, kneeling next to him, "What's going on?" I gently touched his arm.

He jumped, looking back at me surprised. "Uh," I could tell he was panicked. "Uh, I just need to get-" he tried to reach up towards the handle on his truck next to him. "I just need to get the bandages. They're in there," he scanned his mind in a daze. "They're in there someplace." He gave up.

I stood, grabbing the handle of the door and trying to open it. Locked.

"My keys," the man looked at a set of keys dangling from his belt. I knelt down and grabbed them, maneuvering the clip from the hole.

I unlocked the car and immediately leaned in. I scavenged through the center console, littered with old cans and bottles, along with various colored substances. Okay, okay. I looked over to the passenger seat. Still nothing. I opened up the glovebox and finally, white bandages staring out at me. I grabbed them and swung the door closed, kneeling back down to the man. During the time it took me to get the bandages, he was able to get his free arm out of his jacket.

I sat him up and pulled his remaining sleeve off. As soon as I did, his bloodied left arm stared back at me. From his elbow down, it was shiny red. I could smell the metallic from here. As my eyes adjusted to the sight, I noticed an old, blood-soaked bandage covering most of his forearm. My stomach churned but I didn't ask. I pulled the old bandage off, trying to soak up the remaining blood with my jacket sleeve. I started to wrap the new bandage around his arm, but the blood just continued to pour out. Fuck.

He was leaning agains the truck now, watching me in a daze. He was breathing slow, his eyes barely open. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I debated between calling 911 and the time it would take me to drive him to the hospital myself. Considering the local ambulance service in Albuquerque, I figured it would be best to drive him myself.

I wrapped my arms under him, pulling him up off the ground. I opened the back door of the truck and laid him in as lightly as I could before hopping into the driver's seat. I stuck the keys into the ignition and turned. Nothing. I tried again. The engine turned, but still nothing.

I was about to scream when I turned the keys for the third time and the engine finally turned over and on. I threw the old truck into gear and flew out of the bar parking lot, towards the direction of the nearest hospital.

This was not how I was expecting to spend my off-day.

[fandomstuff67]

Words of the Heart

I was just thinking about this idea and I wanted to write it. This fic takes place in a canondivergent world where Cas was rescued from the empty and Dean never died. This is the first time I’ve written from Claire’s perspective so I hope it turns out okay.

Word Count: 1.8k

As usual, read on Ao3 or below

Claire didn’t know why she was so nervous. This wasn’t as big a deal as she was making it out to be; everyone knew already. Jody, Donna, Kaia (obviously Kaia), Hell the whole town probably knew. So why she was pacing her room, scuffing the floor, and worrying her hands into knots, was beyond her. 

“Babe, it’s gonna be fine,” Kaia said from where she was sitting on Claire’s bed, watching her girlfriend wear a hole in the floor. 

“I know, I know,” Claire replied. And she did know, but still her heart was playing a staccato in her chest and sweat still laced her brow. She started biting at her lip, digging her teeth into the skin there until she tasted blood. 

Kaia sighed and stood up, taking Claire’s hands in her own and forcing their eyes to meet. “Alright, that’s it. You need to do something to take your mind off this.” 

Claire shook her head. “They’ll be here any minute.”

“You don’t have to tell you them, you know,” Kaia reminded her gently, giving her hands a squeeze.

“I want to,” Claire replied sternly. 

Kaia nodded and her hand moved to cup Claire’s cheek, she leaned into the touch. Kaia kissed her softly and then smiled. “It’ll be okay.” 

Claire hoped so. 

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. The sound reverberated through Claire’s body, pounding into her bones, shaking her to her core; she felt her heartbeat increase and she grasped at Kaia’s hand for one last bit of comfort.

 She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and then headed out to greet Sam, Dean, Cas, and Jack. 

“Hey,” she said nonchalantly as she entered the room with Kaia trailing behind her. 

“Hey Claire,” Dean replied, a soft smile on his lips. 

“Hello,” Cas greeted her. 

“Hello,” Jack echoed Cas.

“Good to see you,” Sam said. “You too Kaia.” 

Kaia smiled tersely. Claire knew she still wasn’t entirely over what the Winchester’s had put her through. 

“Beers all around!” Jody’s voice came from the kitchen seconds before she entered the room, holding two beers in each hand. “Hey girls,” she said when she noticed Claire and Kaia. 

This was it; now or never. 

She let her eyes fall on Cas and he looked back at her with his sharp gaze, the gaze that was so unlike how her father’s used to be, yet somehow had become just as familiar, just as welcoming and loving and warm. 

“Uh, Cas,” Claire began, awkwardly. Cas blinked at her, telling her to continue. “Can I, uh, can I talk to you?” 

Cas smiled, it was a small thing, a light upturn of the corners of his mouth. “Of course.” 

“Cool, uh... cool,” she spun on her heel and headed back down the hall to her room. Kaia gave her a reassuring smile as she passed. 

Once Cas had entered her room, she shut the door and turned to face him, hardly even able to meet his eyes. 

“Is something wrong?” 

Of course that was Castiel’s first assumption and of course he couldn’t be more wrong. 

“No,” Claire replied, almost a little too quickly. “No,” she repeated, this time a little more controlled. “I just wanted to tell you something.” 

“Oh,” Cas said, his eyes lost some of their worry and Claire brushed past him to stand by her desk and fiddle with the edge of a notebook. 

“God this shouldn’t be as hard as it is,” she muttered in annoyance at the notebook.

She took in a sharp breath and then spun back to face Cas. He was staring at her in confusion and concern and Claire knew she had to just lay it out in the open. 

“Okay, so, uh. Well. I know you’re not my Dad,” she began. Cas shifted uncomfortably where he stood and Claire instantly regretted her word choice. “But, you... were a part of him, I guess, in a way, and since I can’t tell him, I thought... well, I just thought you were the next best option, and you did kind of become like a father to me, and I know you care so-” 

“Claire,” Cas interrupted, taking a step towards her. She looked up at him, swallowing nervously as his steady blue eyes met hers. “What’s this about?” 

Claire wanted to look away, but Castiel’s gaze had her glued to the spot. “Okay, well, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna say it.” 

Cas nodded kindly. “Alright.” 

“I like girls.”

She’d said it. Just like that. It was out in the open. There was no taking it back. 

Cas’ eyes softened and a smile spread across his face. Without preamble, he pulled her into a hug and Claire stiffened before letting herself fall into his embrace. 

“I know,” Cas said into her hair. 

“What?” Claire asked in surprise. 

“I suspected, with Kaia and everything...” 

“She’s kind of my girlfriend,” Claire said proudly. 

Cas pulled away and the look he fixed her with so vividly reminded her of her father. “I’m proud of you.” 

Claire didn’t expect to cry. But those four words, coming out of Castiel’s mouth, the mouth her father had used to say grace and to kiss her goodnight and tell stories, they hit her too deeply that she couldn’t stop the tears. 

“Thank you,” she replied, voice wobbly. 

“Jimmy, your father,” Cas said, “he would be proud of you too.” 

“How do you know?” Claire asked. Her father had never really spoken about his thoughts on being queer, he’d taken his religion seriously, so seriously that he let an angel possess him. 

“When I...” Cas trailed off. 

“Possessed him,” Claire finished for him.

Cas nodded. “Yes. Like you said, I was a part of him. I could see his into his mind, see what he thought and what he believed, and he would have loved you, he did love you, just the way you are.” 

Claire sniffed, her eyes welling with so many tears she was forced to blink to clear them away. She found herself pushing her way back into Cas’ arms. 

“You know you can tell me anything,” Cas said. 

Claire nodded. She had known that. Cas had made it very clear when he’d found her again, tried to be a part of her life, and tried to earn her forgiveness for ruining her family. But she hadn’t truly believed it, until now. 

“I know.” 

“Can I tell you something?” Cas asked once they’d separated from their hug.

“Anything,” Claire replied. 

The most far away look came over Cas’ eyes, the faintest of smiles graced his lips, and when he looked at Claire there was something so earnest in the depths of his blue irises. 

“I’m in love with Dean.” 

Claire’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t say she was particularly surprised, every time she’d been around the two of them they seemed to never be able to take their eyes off each other. Really, she should have suspected. 

“That’s- wow.” 

“We’ve been together for a while now,” Cas said, and there was the flicker of a flame in his words, lit with love. 

“That’s awesome,” Claire replied, beaming at him. 

“It is,” Cas agreed. After a moment he looked at her and said, “you were really scared to tell me, why?” 

Claire looked at the ground, the laces of her shoes were suddenly very interesting. “You were an angel, I dunno, the Bible and stuff says what I’m feeling is wrong and I just thought - worried- that you’d... reject me.” 

Cas’ warm hands took ahold of Claire’s shoulders and she was forced to look up at him. “The Bible is wrong. People misinterpret many things, and a flaw in translation played a big part in the thought process that was invoked upon the world that being queer is wrong. Chuck -God- himself, was bisexual, did you know that?” 

Claire’s eyes widened in shock. “No.” 

Cas smiled. “Well, now you do. Nothing you’re feeling is wrong, Claire. It’s good, and being with Kaia clearly makes you happy, right?” 

“It does,” Claire agreed.

“Then it is anything but wrong.” Cas regarded her for a second before asking, “do you want me to tell Dean, or would you like to do that yourself?”

“You can tell him,” Claire replied. “You were the one that I really wanted to tell in person.”

“I’m happy that you told me.” Cas gave her shoulders a squeeze and then tilted his head towards the door. “Should we return to the others?” 

Claire nodded. “Yeah.” 

Cas led the way and Claire followed him back into the living room where Cas instantly sat down beside Dean and placed a kiss on his mouth. Dean grinned at him and slung his arm around Cas’ shoulders.  

Kaia stepped up beside her and let their hands meet. “It went well?” 

“Better than I could have imagined,” Claire replied. 

Later that night, after dinner, while Claire was helping Dean clean up, he leaned over to her as he handed her a dripping wet plate. 

“So, you and Kaia,” he said, eyebrows raised and a smirk on his lips. 

Claire blushed and shot back, “so, you and Cas.” 

Dean chuckled softly but nodded. “Yeah. I never thought we could- but yeah. Me and Cas.” 

“You look happy,” Claire commented. 

“We are,” Dean replied, a smile touching his eyes. 

“Me and Kaia are too.” 

“I’m proud of you for that, you know,” Dean said. 

Claire’s heart soared to hear those words coming from Dean. “Thanks.” 

“No, really. I know I haven’t always been the greatest towards you. A lot of that had to do with when I had the mark, but a lot of it was also just me. But I wanted you to know, that you’re killing it out there, kid. Doing better than I was at your age, anyway.” 

Claire glanced over at where Jack and Cas were talking on the couch in the next room and then back at Dean, who had followed her gaze. “I think you’re doing pretty well, now.” 

Dean grinned and Claire couldn’t help with smile with him. “Yeah, I am.” 

Claire paused in her drying to pull Dean into a hug. “Thanks, for everything.” 

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Dean said as he hugged Claire back. 

Claire reached behind Dean to scoop a handful of soap suds from the sink which she promptly flicked in Dean’s face when they pulled apart. 

“Hey!” Dean shouted indignantly. 

“It was getting too mushy in here,” Claire replied with a smirk. 

Dean rolled his eyes and flicked his own handful of soap suds at Claire which she tried to dodge, unsuccessfully. “Yeah, well, love does that to you.” 

Claire nodded mindlessly as she spared a look over at Kaia, who was laughing at something Jack had said. Her heart fluttered in her chest and when she picked up a cup to dry it off, she found that she knew exactly what Dean meant. 

Tag list (ask to be added or removed)

@anotherdowneyfan1 @tearsofgrace @quxxnxfhxll @rebelangel67 @professorerudite @adsdragonlover @wantstoflyafraidtofall @goblinwritergay @cassgetoutofmyass0907​ @nguyenxtrang @destielskygalaxypalace @im-your-huckle-berry

[ambiguousdisorderken]

If you could introduce cas at any one time between s1-s3 where would you do it and why?

as much as i ADORE the dynamic between s1dean and cas, i’ll go with something different, and perhaps a bit sadder, but in my opinion all the more poignant and impactful for it: dean meets cas at the end of s2, see all hell breaks loose pt. ii, cemetery battle against azazel.

as designed by chuck, dean was supposed to be michael’s vessel once armageddon was set afoot, but the whole divine plan was jeopardized when sam died. neither faction (chuck’s machinations aside) expected dean to make a deal to bring his brother back to life, but he did. so we have hell rejoicing and we have heaven somewhat placated because their holy father’s scriptures remain true and the order has been restored, at least for the time being.

whatever happens from here until the first seal breaks is not heaven’s business, they’re above petty humanity, and after all, the winchesters are mere instruments to be used once the apocalypse comes.

castiel though, he’s got a crack on his chassis. he’s curious. there’s celebration in heaven but he wants to know the real cause for celebration, he wants to meet this human who saved god’s plan with an act his siblings deem stupid, but he considers rather noble. so he goes to earth, for the first time in many years. his vessel, jimmy novak, a devoted man whose faith came to him as naturally as breathing, accepted castiel willingly and without much questioning.

it’s cas who helps dean defeat azazel instead of john. after all, john is only a human soul, a very tortured one in hell, if alastair’s words from 4.16 can be taken as truthful. he would be in no shape to climb all the way out of hell, not that fast, and especially, he wouldn’t be able to restrain azazel or force him out of his vessel the way he did. also, i just dislike the idea of john “redeeming” himself, it was executed poorly and it is a bit too easy and convenient for him to show up and save the day. [¡¡¡also fuck john winchester!!!.]

so yes, it’s cas who, in his haste to meet thee dean winchester stumbles into the battle and overpowers azazel, giving dean the perfect opportunity to shoot the demon and killing him for good. 

of course dean would be apprehensive of cas, but literally all hell had just broke loose, and if there was a point in time angels -should they exist- would appear on earth, surely that would be one of them, right?

it takes him some time, all of them, to trust cas, who appears every other day, sometimes just once a week, sometimes he stays two whole days. he’s a low profile seraph these days and he’s always diligent. besides, he’s not the most social of angels, so if anybody notices his absence, they’re angelic enough about it not to care. as long as heaven runs smooth, all is well. chuck is entertained and much too comfortable lying low to bother about a rogue angel.

cas tells dean he’s been charged with helping them out, seeing as they helped shut the gates of hell, or any other excuse. he’s not very good lying, but dean buys it. he’s still hopeful , a stranger to the rack and the sulphur of the pit.

inevitably, dean falls in love with cas. it’s quick and unexpected, as if someone hit the back of his head with the full force of it, of cas. it’s also the easiest thing he’s ever done. castiel, this angel... cas... he’s everything dean knows he can’t have, he is all the good dean could never be, he’s touched by god while dean is tainted by the filth of demons, literally. 

he’s never regretted making that deal to save sammy, but he wishes the demon had given him more than a year. most people get 10. a lot could be done in ten years, and maybe cas, maybe he’d still be around. maybe dean would be able to call him his friend, maybe he’d be able to know cas better (because he doesn’t really say much about himself, and always seems so interested in learning more about dean, what he likes, how he feels, why he acts in certain ways, why he likes making cas laugh so much, why he blushes at odd times and why his smile falls when he seems the happiest). or maybe 10 years wouldn’t be enough to make an angel of the lord care about a poor sod like him anyway.

it’s a relationship filled with what ifs and insecurity and fear and passion, because dean is running out of time and he wants to make the most of it, but he’s only a sad excuse of a hunter, and he has to be a good brother and he’s got bobby whom he’s also made miserable with his decision. but there’s also cas... and that... he never, not in a million years, expected cas to appear into his life. he just wants a little more time with him, a little less guilt for wanting this, wanting what...it?, no, him. he’s living on borrowed time so labels, he doesn’t give a shit about. so he goes for it. he kisses cas, and cas kisses him back. and it comes to them just as natural and easy, and it pains dean even more knowing that he could have this, if only his ass wasn’t expected in hell in a few days time. 

but hell doesn’t forgive, and it comes to collect alright. 

cas knows he can’t intervene, he’s still a soldier, with a human weakness, yes. but a soldier nonetheless. still, when the hellhounds  come after dean he tries to save him, only to be stopped by other angels sent to maintain the order. he’s sent to prison during the same 40 years dean is sent to hell, but in heaven time moves even slower, so he ends up waiting longer than that, all the while tortured by his own inability to protect the one thing he cares about, to save dean from the worst of fates. needless to say he feels guity and conflicted.

it comes to him as a surprise when he’s called upon the ranks of the army who’ll retrieve the righteous man from hell. apparently previous campaigns have failed to even locate the asset, so castiel, rebellious as he’s proven to be in the past, is tasked with leading as commander. he knows dean’s soul thoroughly, if anyone can decipher the twists and folds of hell (more intricate version than og) it’s castiel. 

and that he does.

cas is the one to free dean from his agony, the one who throws away the bloody whip dean was flogging another poor soul with, the one who sees dean so broken and mangled, stripped from his kindness, forced into sin and depravity. he hold dean in his arms while the man thrashes, crying and screaming, so unlike himself and yet becoming dean. 

for the first time since he was created, castiel cries. he also kisses dean and the taste is salty, but it feels like paradise despite the brimstone and the howls of anguish that echo in their ears.

cas’ hold is so strong and dean is so raw, naked soul burning up, that the touch leaves a mark that later will show as his handprint seared on dean’s shoulder.

[nonagesimus]

Fic prompt, something with this idea? https://katsidhe.tumblr.com/post/644319537824694272/so-ive-been-thinking-a-lot-lately-about-some-sort

everyone go say thank you to @katsidhe for the (as usual) lovely meta

—

Sam had a bit of a bone to pick with one Jimmy Novak, in that when Jimmy had said being possessed by an angel was like being chained to a comet, he’d been understating things.

Saying yes to Lucifer he'd been terrified but resolute. He'd fight his way to the surface because he had to, because it was the only option, because otherwise he'd be tied up in the passenger seat watching millions of people die. And he'd said yes and been pinned to card like an insect on display, feeling the museum burn down around him. But more. In his body and not. Burning and frozen solid. The tiniest fly caught between Lucifer's immense fingers, quaking as a voice that sounded like universes dying and universes being born said, "We're going to have so much fun together, Sam."

Lucifer let him feel it every time someone died at his/their hands. Had him watch, did not let him look away.

Not chained to a comet, he was the comet and he was burning, and growing, and breaking, and he was never, ever going to hit the ground.

When he'd managed to wrestle control, riding on the absolutely certainty that he could not watch his hands kill his brother, that he would end this because only he could, he'd been fighting against every fibre of his being. Every atom screaming relax. Let it happen. It'll hurt less if you stop fucking pushing.

He'd pushed. He'd jumped.

His brain still bumped up against the idea of if knowing was better or not.

With Gadreel there had been no sense of the chain at all. Just clean snips of what he remembered and what was just gone, until reality blended neatly into the daydream of regular life that Crowley had found him in. It hadn't felt like being a bug pinned to card, when he'd realised. He was a rat in a maze. If the maze was alive, trying it's hardest to keep him trapped. A vibration in the floor that felt like a truck going past. An alien heartbeat echoing through the corridors of the bunker.

But, see, rats were good at chewing through walls.

It still meant Sam never wanted that again.

--

Maybe they’d forgotten that, sure, Lucifer absolutely liked cutting people open and rooting around in their insides, and he liked putting pressure on a fulcrum until something cracked, and he liked watching people fear him. But he also liked spells, and plans, and the long con. And the spells, and plans, and the long con meant that Cas was fucking disintegrating.

“We need more time,” Sam said, hands flat on the pages of the book he’d been reading. “Cas, is the spell tied to you, or is it tied to the vessel?”

“It’s tied to my physical form,” Cas said, bundled in blankets and curled in one of the library chairs. He’d been adamant he could help, even though Sam could tell his eyes had to be blurring too hard to read anything. “I don’t see why that helps us-“

“So we get you in another vessel,” Sam said. “Let this one degrade for now, fix the curse.”

“I’m not bringing Claire into this,” Cas said, distressed, and angry, and if Sam knew him at all, scared.

“Not Claire,” Sam said. “Me. I was built to hold an archangel, right, I should be able to hold you.”

Cats looked at him, cloudy eyes, and trembling muscles, and the skin melting off him.

"Sam," he said.

"Cas," Sam said. "Yes."

There was a long pause and they looked at each other and then the axis of the earth shifted.

A rumble and a flash of light: there was the maze. There was the card and pin. There was the fire. No eyes to shut, no fists to clench, because that was how these things worked. And he'd meant the yes, he'd meant it with every fibre of his being, but maybe he could've used a little time to prepare, because his whole chest was seizing up, and- that meant he had a chest to seize up.

"Sam?"

A voice but not. His voice, but not. In his head, and there was fire, sure. There was a comet there vibrating with arrested momentum, but every single chain was slack.

Carefully, he moved his hands and braced himself on the back of a chair. Breath still running short. But he was moving under his own power.

"Cas?" he gasped.

It did not feel like Cas taking use of his hands. It felt like Cas gently laying his hands over Sam's. "I'm here. You're in control."

"I know, I know," he said, white-knuckling it despite himself. And Cas knew, had to. Wasn't just brushing against his soul this time, this time he was inside it. "I know, I trust you." Because he did. He did, his body was just having a hard time remembering.

"I understand, Sam," Cas said, inside his head. "I will not use you. And if you need my help you need only ask." There was a gentle withdrawal, like Castiel was carefully folding himself into the smallest space he could. Not hidden, just trying to be unobtrusive.

Breathing careful, heartbeat slowly returning to normal, Sam rubbed a hand over his face. "Ok," he said. "Ok, let's keep looking. You can figure out how to explain to Dean why your body's in the corner."

There was a pulse of warmth from the back of his head as he turned back to his books.

[angelfishofthelord]

Oh boy idk if you are still doing these, but prompt 4 from set C looks killer. Also! Your writing is like poetry, it flows so well together that it just drags me along for the ride and wow! I’ve cried at pretty much everything you’ve written - giving me the Cas feels in 2021? Fantastic. Happy birthday!!!

prompt: "you promised you would keep me safe"

set in an au of 10x09 where Claire is the one who finds Cas to enact her revenge

The two Winchesters are behind her, guns raised, but fingers off the trigger. She knows they wouldn’t dare fire, not when she has their precious angel handcuffed to the bedpost and with his blade now in her hands.

“You promised,” she pushes the words out through her clenched teeth. “I heard what you said to my dad before you took him again. You said ‘we always keep our promises.’ But you didn’t. My dad died and my mom ran off and I was left alone and I was--” a knot thickens in her throat. “I was alone. I wasn’t safe. You promised to keep me safe and you didn’t.”

“We didn’t know about your mom,” comes the half-hearted excuse from the younger Winchester and she whips her head around to glare at him.

“He knew. I prayed to him, all the time. He just ignored them because he was too busy to care.” Turning back to the angel she brings the blade down to rest against his chest. “Now I’ll make sure you have the time to--” her voice falters when she realizes that Castiel has undone the handcuffs and is rising to stand. He must have picked them while she had her back turned, just for a moment. She keeps the blade pointed at him but it’s shaking a little, swaying with the quiver in her arm as he gets to his feet.

“You’re right,” Castiel says. Not to the men behind her. To her. There’s a look in his eyes that doesn’t match what she expected to see. Defiance, pride, or resistance, anything but that shade of sorrow.

His eyes flick up to the Winchesters and he looks deeply apologetic. “Sam. Dean.” He takes a deep breath. “Thank you for everything. Please take care of yourselves.”

Then Castiel lifts a hand and she ducks instinctively, thinking he's about to smite her, but all she hears is the aborted shouts of the boys as they are flung out of the motel room and the door is slammed shut. Streaks of blonde hair fly across her face as she glances from the door--the boys hollering behind it, the handle glowing white hot---and back to Castiel, who’s returned to sitting on the edge of the bed, hands gripping the shape of his knees, like he’s waiting for her.

Waiting for her to kill him.

“I know it doesn’t mean much to you,” he says softly, eyes all full of pain’s dark blue hue, “but I am sorry for what happened.”

“Stop looking at me,” she snaps and he shuts his eyes obediently.

“Your father loved you,” he continues. “And I’m sure your mother does too. I’m so sorry that I ever took them away from you.”

Claire still doesn’t move towards him. Her eyes are watching the door, wondering if the Winchesters are going to burst back in, guns firing in synchronized beats. She realizes that Castiel must be keeping the door shut with his angel powers. The minute she kills him, Dean and Sam will come charging in, and most likely kill her too. The worst part is that the thought of dying doesn’t bother her. She wishes it did.

“Did it hurt,” she begins, holding the blade out at the angel’s chest again, “when my dad died?”

Castiel seems taken aback by the question, enough to prompt him to open his eyes. “I don’t--I don’t remember. Raphael was ripping me apart and I was screaming and--” he drops his head. “I think Raphael must have released Jimmy’s soul before he started.”

The blade now rests snugly over the angel’s heart. “Who’s Raphael?”

“The archangel who killed me,” Castiel answers blandly. “The first time,” he corrects, like there’s a distinction. Then he closes his eyes again and sits there silently, throat working slightly. He’s right where she wants him to be, at the center of the moment she’s spent years dreaming about. And yet it’s still not right.

Nothing in her life will ever be right again.

She lets go of the blade and grabs him by the sides of his coat. He doesn’t resist, doesn’t react when she jerks him forward and screams. His eyes fly open and she screams at him again and again, blue perforating the scrape of her lungs, her jaw strained open wide, the creases around his eyes, her eyes blurring, blinking to the shrill sound, begging, a child asking her daddy to stay, leaving, shaking the fabric of his coat, not his, echoes flickering between the tears running down her face and she buries her face into his chest and screams harder until her voice is drained down to thin, strangled sobs. When his arms come up to hold her trembling shoulders she's too tired to brush them off.

[destihellhound]

We Write Our Own Destiny

Canon-divergent ending to 15x19, ignoring 15x20. Also on AO3 | ff

Tagging @destielintheimpala because she’s my best friend and @ineffable-cas because I remember seeing them asking to be tagged in any fix-it fics.

"I won't be hands on," Jack told them. "Chuck put himself in the story - that was his mistake. But I learned from you and my mother and Castiel that when people have to be their best, they can be. And that's what to believe in. Well... I'm really as close as this," he said, placing a hand over his heart. Then he raised his hand in a stationary, dorky wave. "Goodbye."

"Wait!" Dean said, as Jack turned to walk away. "What about Cas? Chuck pulled Lucifer out of the Empty, you can save Cas!"

Jack raised his hands, palms outwards. "I'm hands-off, Dean."

"But it's Cas," Dean growled, taking a threatening step forwards. "We can't get to him there, and it's not like the Empty is just going to give him back if we ask nicely." When Jack didn't seem at all inclined to change his mind, he tried a different approach. "You owe me."

"Uh, Dean?" Sam said hesitantly. "Maybe not a good idea to piss off the new... Him."

"It's Jack, Sam," Dean said, glancing over his shoulder. "The kid who killed our mother." He turned on Jack. "You said you wanted to make it up to me? This is how you do that!"

"Dean, I—" Jack's eyes glazed over for a second as his attention seemed to be focused elsewhere. "She really does have a soft spot for you Dean," Jack told him before disappearing in a burst of divine light.

Dean stared at the space where Jack had stood, just a moment before. What the hell did that mean? Had Amara persuaded Jack to change his mind, or was he still against interfering?

"Hello, Dean."

Dean froze at the familiar voice, almost afraid to turn around. The last time he'd heard Castiel's voice, it had been Lucifer. He swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat. What if it was just another trick?

"Hello, Sam."

"Hey, Cas," Sam said warmly, and his brother's voice was enough to have Dean turning.

Cas was smiling at Sam, though still visibly confused as to why he was back on Earth. When he turned to Dean, however, his smile faltered.

Dean wished he could say something, anything, to wipe that insecurity off Castiel's face because the angel was back where he belonged. He was always better with actions than words, however, so he strode up to Cas and wrapped his arms around him, hands clenching in that god-awful trench coat.

"Dean," Castiel began, unsurely.

"Later, Cas," Dean murmured in his ear. "Let's go home."

Dean felt like a great weight had been lifted from him as the angel hugged him back; a weight he hadn't even realised had been dragging him down.

"I'll make burgers. You love burgers."

"Everything tastes like molecules to me."

"Not the point," Dean said, leading them back to the car. "You are a part of this family, Cas - don't ever forget it."

"Hey, Dean?" Sam asked, a sudden thought striking him. "Do you think Adam... Michael was destroyed, but do you think Jack brought Adam back?"

"I hope so," Dean said. "That kid deserves to catch a break. We'll reach out, make sure everyone we know is back, and put out the word that we're looking for him."

"Okay."

As they got nearer the Impala, Dean saw Miracle sitting patiently beside the rear door.

"Oh, hell no..."

"Do you think he's got an owner around here?" Sam asked, looking around.

"We're not keeping the dog, Sam."

"You've changed your tune."

"That was different, okay?" He'd just lost Cas. "It was supposed to just be us, and then there was this little miracle and—"

Miracle barked, as if recognising his name.

Dean sighed. Looked at Sam. Ignored his brother's puppy-dog eyes. Looked at Cas. Took in the angel's hangdog expression.

"Oh, for..." He trailed off in defeat. "I am not feeding him. I am not walking him. And I am not vacuuming the hair out of Baby! That's your job," Dean told Sam. "And if you don't keep her clean, I will shoot you, and then I'll shoot Mir— the dog!" He turned to Miracle. "And you are not riding shotgun!" He got in the car and slammed the door.

"Do you want to ride up front?" Sam asked Cas, failing to hide his amusement at Dean's feigned dislike of their adopted four-legged friend.

The angel responded by getting in the backseat with the dog.

As they began the long drive back to the bunker, Sam texted Eileen. His relief at getting a response was nothing compared to the relief and joy that wiped years off his face when she answered his video call and he saw her face.

His relief echoed the feeling flooding through Dean for getting Cas back, and he glanced at the angel in his rearview mirror.

"I love you," Sam told Eileen, doubling down on his feelings by communicating them through ASL as well.

"I love you, too," she said.

"Get a room, you two," Dean teased them.

Sam called him a jerk as he dug his headphones out.

Dean didn't think Sam had said those three little words to anyone since Jess, and Dean himself had never said them; could never bring himself to say them. He glanced at Cas in the mirror again, chest constricting at the thought of losing Cas again. He'd lost him too many times, and was terrified that he'd lose him again.

Sam arranged for Eileen to meet them at the bunker, but in the end Dean volunteered to take a detour to her house so that Sam could ride home with her. Thankfully he took Miracle, too, and Cas moved into the front passenger seat.

"Is it later, yet?" he asked, once they were back on the road.

Dean swallowed. He had meant later, once they'd eaten and he'd had a chance to figure out what the hell he wanted to say. "I guess it is."

Cas sat there silently, minutes dragging by, until Dean realised the angel was waiting for him to speak. Cas had said everything he'd had to say before the Empty took him, and now it was Dean's turn.

"Look, uh, I've never... Guys aren't something that... If you know me, then you know that..."

"I am a multi-dimensional wavelength of celestial intent," Cas reminded Dean patiently. "It is the vessel that I am possessing that presents as male." He squinted. "I could take a female vessel, if that is something you would—"

"No!" Dean exclaimed quickly.

Cas swallowed. "It's not my vessel," he realised sadly. "It's that my feelings for you are not returned."

"Dude, that's not what I'm—" Dean trailed a hand down his face. "Losing you, it hurts. It hurts as much as losing Sam, only it's different, and I don't know what that means."

"I think," Cas began carefully, "it means that you love me. But you need to decide what kind of love it is that you're feeling. Familial, platonic, romantic..."

"What?"

"Do you love me as family, as a friend, or as a romantic partner? I loved you as a friend, then as family, and I grew to love you romantically - but I don't love you because I have a desire for sexual intimacy with you. As an angel that would be as disappointing as eating - merely experiencing the physical and hormonal sensations without feeling the accompanying pleasure. Though if that was something you desired I would be more than willing to oblige, but I don't see that as being something you would have an interest in. At least, not in this vessel. Yet you are unwilling for me to change vessels."

"It wouldn't be you, then."

"I would still be me, Dean."

"I know, I just mean..."

"You've gotten used to seeing me as Jimmy Novak."

Dean coughed. "Way to make it weird, Cas."

"All I want is to spend your life with you," Cas told him.

"You've always been welcome to do that, Cas. But you leave."

"Or you send me away."

Dean swallowed, knowing that Cas was thinking about his time as a human - when Gadreel, pretending to be Ezekiel, had insisted that Castiel could not be around him. "I'm sorry," Dean apologised. He'd apologised before, and would keep apologising. "You needed me, and I should have been there for you."

"You made the choice you did out of your love for Sam," Cas acknowledged. "And that love is one of the many reasons that I love you. I would settle for living your life with you as your friend, as family, if that was all you desired. But I hope for you to desire more."

Dean frowned. "I thought you said you didn't want sex?"

Cas stared at him for a long moment. "Commitment, Dean. A promise to spend your life with me, faithfully."

And Dean nearly drove the car off the road as he realised that 'commitment' meant no more one night stands, no more casual flings. He was such an idiot... But the more he mulled over the meaning of Castiel's words, the more he surprised himself to realise that he was okay with the idea. Sure, sex was pleasurable and fun, but without a meaningful, emotional connection to the other person involved it lacked something that always left him feeling physically satisfied but otherwise empty.

"Would you ever have told me how you felt?" he blurted out. "If you hadn't been trying to save me from Billie?"

"I don't think so," Cas admitted.

"Why not?"

Castiel stared out of the window, looking away from Dean. "Because to hear you tell me that my feelings were not returned, or worse, for you to ask me to leave, is something that would hurt too much."

"The Empty's definitely not coming back for you, right?"

"No, Dean. Our deal was fulfilled."

"Then say it again, Cas."

Castiel turned to him, slowly, with hope in his eyes. "I love you," he said quietly.

Dean shot Cas a meaningful look. "I know."

Hurt momentarily crossed Castiel's face, before realisation dawned and he beamed. "I understand that reference."

Dean laughed, and pressed his foot down on the accelerator.

"So, what now?" Sam asked, once they'd all pushed their plates aside, stuffed full on Dean's homemade burgers.

"Everything we've ever done has been because Chuck wanted it that way," Dean said. "From before we were even born, Heaven was manipulating Mom and Dad into a relationship. Hunting has been my life, but I don't want the job title to define me."

"Job title?" Sam echoed, amused.

"Yeah. 'Hunter' - I want to be more than that."

"Such as?"

"A teacher," Dean said. "I was thinking about it on the drive home - the next generation of hunters are growing up fast, and they need help just like Bobby helped us. And you were doing good, running that network of hunters from here. That could be our future - making our own way. Not hunters, or Men of Letters, but combining that into something that is ours. From now on, we write our own destiny."

Sam nodded thoughtfully.

"And I want to retire. At least partially. I want to live a life. I want to live my life. I want to be a brother," he said, looking at Sam. "Maybe even a brother-in-law?" he asked, giving Eileen a look that caused her to blush and Sam to kick him under the table. "And a... partner," he finished, looking at Cas. He wasn't sure what the right word was to describe what he wanted with Cas, but he had time to figure it out.

Sam cleared his throat. "You cooked, Eileen and I will clean up," he said, gesturing at their dirty plates. "Why don't you and Cas go, uh, watch some Netflix. And maybe chill." He chuckled to himself.

"Sure, that sounds like a great idea," Dean said, standing up and dragging Cas out of his chair. He failed to understand what Sam found so funny. "Maybe we can finish Game of Thrones - I hear that show had a terrible ending..."

[theexecutionerssong]

I (obviously) know we/you wanted a whole different ending. The kind that Dean/Cas stayed alive like they deserved. But besides that part, I gotta ask if it’d be up to you how would you create the finale. Like what would your episode look like? Obviously there hs to be some “omg tf is gonna happen” type of vibe that they triiieeed to do with the fight scene where they killed dean. But I’ve been thinking over and over how I’d want the finale to actually be and actually close the show, so i was wondering how would your look like? Like would sam still get the ugly wig or would him,dean and cas stay together forever? How would cas come back or would he even come back (this is a trick question, there is only one correct answer) I hope you understand what I’m trying to ask, sorry if it’s a bit dumb.

(You guys have to stop apologizing and putting yourself down when you send me asks I swear you’re not dumb and always welcome hereeee)

Hmmm well I’ve always said I wanted the last episode of the series to be an epilogue in the form of a semi monster of the week episode. So in my head, after 15x19, there was only one way to go:

Eileen and everyone who was snapped by Chuck is brought back, including Miracle.

Sam and Eileen reunite.

Dean asks Jack what about Cas, since he wasn’t snapped, can he bring him back? Sam got Eileen back, why can’t he get Cas? Sam suddenly understands.

Jack gets Dean to the Empty and they find Cas. They offer a trade. It’s not easy. But in the end, the Empty is satisfied with keeping Castiel’s grace only and Cas comes home human. Dean is scared of ever letting him go again but also of touching him - when Castiel first laid a hand on you in hell he was lost is stuck in his head. Loving Cas, being loved by him, is what killed Cas, after all. They work through it.

Jack is still their kid despite being God and stays to live with them, but he comes and goes as he pleases.

They keep living like they always have for a while, there is a monster of the week, they hunt together. It can be Jenny from season 1 for all I care. They win. Dean gets angry at Cas for putting himself in danger somehow because he can’t be reckless anymore. He’s human now. Sam tells Dean he’s being overprotective and Eileen finds that ironic. There is a moment between Sam and Dean where they look at Eileen and Cas cleaning up the scene. Sam echoes Dean’s words from years ago. I’m proud of us. They realize that while this can work, they deserve to rest more than anything else. They can help in other ways.

Sam and Eileen get a picket fence. They have a kid or two. They don’t name them after people they have lost. Dean and Sam don’t need to live in each other pocket’s anymore. They love each other fiercely but they understand that it’s-just-us-two-against-the-rest-of-the-world isn’t true anymore. And they don’t need it to be true. They still talk almost everyday and have a group chat with their family. It’s fun.

Dean and Cas keep living in the bunker. The two sides of the bed in Dean’s room are unmade. Cas’s trench-coat in on the back of the chair. Dean takes down the guns from the walls and replaces them with pictures of his family. They help hunters with research, Sam as well but they don’t hunt anymore. Dean fixes cars in his free time. He loves Cas. He lets himself be loved.

Donna, Jodie and the girls drop by for dinner every couple of weeks, Garth too. Charlie and her girlfriend sometimes. They always bring pie for dessert.

Cas is still worried about heaven but Jack has taken upon himself to fix it. He shows them, as proof that their job is done here. They get to see everyone they have lost. They are chilling at The Roadhouse. The original Charlie. Bobby. Kevin. Pamela, Ash, Jo, Ellen. Even Jess. Sarah. Sam feels like he’s drowning but they tell him to let go of the guilt. Eileen squeezes his hand. Their parents are there too, even John unfortunately. Mary tells Dean she had always known that angels were watching over him. Castiel nods to her. Richard Speight and Sebastian Stan make a cameo. It’s not explained. Jimmy Novak is not here but Kansas is and they are playing because why the hell not.

They get back on Earth and they get to grow old. We don’t see it because montages of characters growing old are tacky as hell. But we know. They can lay their weary head to rest. The last shot is of the Impala. They are not driving her, but she’s still here, and there’s a baby seat in the back. Carry On Wayward Son keeps playing.

No omg plot twist moments. We had that in 15x19. Just a soft epilogue, because they were good people, and you know how the poem goes.

[sidecarghost]

Suptober 20 - Day 22 I cursed the gloom that set upon us, But I know that I love you so...

Notes: The Rain Song by Led Zeppelin has this strong love that makes everything brighter, then everything turns bleak but the love is still there. This reminded me of the Novaks. They seemed like a very loving family, but Jimmy’s decision to be a hero and be Cas’s vessel shatters their family. The love remains, but things have definitely taken a gloomy turn.

pov: split mostly between Amelia and Claire. Claire is trans girl.

It is the springtime of my loving The second season I am to know You are the sunlight in my growing So little warmth I've felt before

Amelia felt like her life began when she said "I do" to Jimmy Novak. The rest of her life had been a quiet winter, preparing her to blossom from maiden to wife. The newlyweds moved in to the Jimmy's house. The house echoed with promised dreams and Amelia was eager to listen. The house had been left to Jimmy by his parents, and now it was their turn to raise a family there.

It isn't hard to feel me glowing I watched the fire that grew so low, oh

In June 1997, Jimmy and Amelia found out they were expecting. That summer the glow from Amelia rivaled the Sun. Amelia loved her husband, she loved her home, and she loved the baby growing in her womb. Her love of the child she had never met was raw, primal, and unconditional. Jimmy and Amelia prepared a nursery for their bundle of joy.

***

In September, the ultrasound technician asked if they wanted to know the baby's sex. "Yes," the expecting parents answered in a single voice. "Congratulations, you are having a boy," the technician smiled. Now, they knew what color to paint the nursery, they knew what color rompers to buy, everything would be blue. Blue, blue, baby boy. They found the perfect first and middle name for their baby boy.

In March 1998, Amelia calls her husband at his office. The baby is coming! After the delivery, their baby cries loudly and he is declared healthy by the obstetrician. The newborn baby continues to cry with passion and he is tenderly placed on his mother's chest. Amelia looks at her baby and tells Jimmy that their baby is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

It is the summer of my smiles Flee from me, keepers of the gloom Their baby becomes a toddler  Their toddler's first word is door. Anytime something needs to be opened it is door. Time to play outside "door" Want cereal open? "door" Open toy chest? "door" Their toddler is smart, adventurous, loving, and beloved. Jimmy and Amelia sing the toddler sweet lullabies and rock him gently in their arms.

Speak to me only with your eyes It is to you I give this tune

Their toddler becomes a child. Jimmy and Amelia show their child how to write, to pray, to do chores, to dance, to play, to sing. Life is their adventure and they don't let one day go to waste. They teach their child about their faith, nature, people, right, and wrong.

Ain't so hard to recognize, oh These things are clear to all from time to time, ooh

Their child teaches them too, she tells her parents she is a girl. Jimmy and Amelia love their daughter, and they reach out to a gender therapist to help their daughter and them. Their daughter's name is Claire, and her old name is dead and buried in the past. The name Claire means clear, bright, and shining. Amelia thinks the future will be clear, bright, and shining just like her amazing, beautiful daughter. If Amelia had guessed how terrible the future would be she would have taken more family videos and more family photos. Maybe she would have tried to find more time to take family vacations. More late nights dancing and singing as a family in the living room. Spent more time cuddling with her husband and playing with her daughter. But Amelia Novak had no idea how little time left she had with her husband and daughter.

I cursed the gloom that set upon us,  But I know that I love you so

Jimmy grabs his trench coat and leaves through the front door. Claire opens the front door. "Daddy?" she asks. Her father's warm expression is gone. The face that turns to her is cold and unmoved. "I am not your father," Castiel says in a voice that sounds gravelly and deep. The voice doesn't sound like her father. The cold stare from his eyes doesn't look like her father. And then her father and not-father is gone. Claire doesn't understand. Her parents were her support. Their unconditional love was a part of life. She felt their love everyday, she felt their love like feeling raindrops falling on her fingers or like sunlight touching her face.

"What happened to dad?" Claire asked her mother. "I think he may be sick. Sometimes, people get sick even though they are physically healthy," Amelia told her daughter. "Will he be okay?" Claire asked. "We have to pray that he will be," Amelia kissed Claire's brow. A year later Jimmy came home. If Amelia knew that would be the last time she saw her husband alive she would have taken a family photo. She would have kissed him. She would have tried to recapture those times their family would dance and sing and be goofballs together. But Amelia held on to her hurt and her anger. Then when the demon possessed her she lost any chance to tell Jimmy that she loved him. Jimmy was dying, and she was trapped inside her mind watching while a demon used her body.

Amelia failed Jimmy, but she would find her way back to him. He was a hero, and she wanted to tell him that. Amelia and Claire moved in with Amelia’s mother. Claire never saw her mom much anymore. Her mom was too driven to find dad to raise her daughter. Claire had now lost both parents. But Castiel was determined to help her. Sam and Dean would help too. Claire knows Castiel, she had been his vessel. Castiel had smited a demon using her hands. They did find Claire’s mother. A grigori angel was feeding on Amelia's soul.  In the fighting Amelia is mortally wounded, and Claire saves Castiel by stabbing the grigori with his angel sword.

Amelia dies in her daughter's arms. Sam had told Claire, "In this line of work, death isn't always good-bye." Claire would become a hunter too.

These are the seasons of emotion And like the wind, they rise and fall

Amelia finds Jimmy in Heaven. Jimmy asks Amelia, "How was she? How's Claire?" Amelia tells him, "Oh, Jimmy, she grew up so beautiful. She's so strong." Jimmy responds, "Like her mom. I love you. Amelia finally gets to tell her husband what she has wanted to say on that night long ago, "I love you, too."

This is the wonder of devotion I see the torch We all must hold

[shirtlesssammy]

10x07: Girls, Girls, Girls

A woman runs down an alley, clearly escaping someone --or something. She’s eventually found by the man pursuing her. She stabs him in the eye, but that doesn’t slow him down. He flashes black eyes and snaps her neck. 

Sam and Dean are enjoying a meal and no case on the horizon. Dean’s phone keeps blowing up with alerts, so Sam grabs it and sees Dean’s joined a dating app. Impala67, lol. Sam is having the TIME OF HIS LIFE, and thinks the woman that Dean is pursuing is a little too available. “Is it so hard to believe that an attractive, red-blooded, American female could be interested in someone like me?” 

Sam’s proven wrong when Shaylee shows up and Dean takes off with her on his arm. 

Castiel is still working with Hannah on finding rogue angels. She suddenly strips right in front of Cas. It makes our bumbling, awkward angel spontaneously combust with embarrassment and confusion. 

His little huff and awkward casualness about her nakedness is --hearts. Also, how he just hangs on to the laptop with one hand like it’s nothing is somehow very pleasing. 

Dean, meanwhile, is slightly bummed to find out that Shaylee is really a prostitute. 

And she’s not just any prostitute. She doesn’t want money--she wants his soul. You picked the wrong mark, girl! 

Hannah gets a visit from her vessel’s husband. 

Back at Dean’s motel room, the demon shows up for Dean’s soul, but he’s greeted by both Winchesters --and a devil’s trap. They learn there’s an entire brothel somewhere before Shaylee stabs the demon with an angel blade. The dude was carrying a card of where the brothel is located --so lucky them! 

At Raul’s Club, Raul and another dude are ---OMG ROWENA. Yep, she wanders in and they tell her that they’re not hiring and she’s too old (sigh). She tells him she would never do business with filth like him and throws a hex bomb at him. 

Raul dies a most horrific and perfect death. Rowena then invites the girls for a bit of food. 

Hannah talks with Joe about why Caroline disappeared. Joe wants answers. Hannah struggles with finding an adequate way of explaining Caroline’s absence. Castiel walks in the room then and things get even MORE awkward. Joe asks if they’re together --which Hannah doesn’t get right away, but realizes that’s the best way to explain things, and grabs Cas’s hand. 

Joe doesn’t believe it. “This guy?” Um, that guy is probably on A LOT of people’s cheat lists. Just sayin’, Joe. But Joe knows his wife, and knows deep down that it is false. Hannah kisses Cas to prove her point.

Sam and Dean find the chaos left in Rowena’s wake. 

Rowena brings her new charges to a fancy restaurant, and they are prompt asked to leave due to their sartorial choices. Rowena casts a spell to keep the wait staff in order. The girls ask her how she did it. “Magic.”

Gerald, the demon that wasn’t Raul, reports back to Crowley and spills that they opened the brothel. He wanted Crowley to know about what the powerful witch did.

Sam does his research on the demon killing spell. It turns out to have not been used in over 300 years and it’s only been used by the witch who created it, Rowena. (SMART LASS.)

Rowena explains witches to her new friends. She talks of being a natural witch, and how the Grand Coven kicked her out. She’s been on the run and in hiding. Now she’s ready to fight, and is looking for witches to train. The girls wonder when they can start their training. Rowena sees the waiter go up in red fire and they make a bee line out of the restaurant.

A demon wakes up in a trap and immediately starts hurling insults at an unseen captor. When the captor comes into view, we learn that it’s Ass Hat and he’s after Dean. I didn’t remember that Ass Hat was in this episode! I DEMAND A REFUND.

At a gas station, Hannah and Cas share an awkward conversation. Hannah is perturbed by the confrontation with her vessel’s husband. She’s feeling, more specifically, plagued with guilt. Cas consoles her and tells her that the “affair” gave him a reason to walk away. He then speaks of Jimmy Novak, and how he took him away from his family - twice. But “the mission comes first. Always.”

Dean investigates the waiter’s death and catches a lead: there were two sex workers in the restaurant who came in with another woman. Meanwhile, Sam researches mysterious deaths at fancy hotels. The brains were all boiled, just like the waiter’s. 

For Calming Scenery Science:

Cas trails Hannah to a quiet bridge. She apologizes to him but she won’t go with him to track down any more angels. Hannah is horrified to experience an echo of the sacrifice humans have made to become vessels that allow angels to walk the earth. “It’s time to put [humans] first,” she says. Working with Cas, she felt human things. “Passions. Hungers.” (Me: eyebrow waggle) When she was confronted by Caroline’s husband, she felt their pain. She kisses Cas on the cheek and says goodbye. 

Caroline wakes up in his arms. It’s time to go home. 

At a swanky hotel, there’s a knock on Rowena’s door. She rustles up her troops to cast her spellwork and opens the door for a hotel employee. Unfortunately, that employee is already MEGA dead. Two demons step inside. 

We cut to Rowena captured and her protégés destined for doom, when the Winchesters intercept them. They dispatch the two demons quickly and then circle in on Rowena. She lobs a spell at her blonde minion and drags away the other woman as the blonde shrieks. Her eyes bulge red and she launches herself at the Winchesters with superhuman force. 

Outside, the other woman confronts Rowena, who explains that she used an attack dog spell to create a decoy to stall the Winchesters.

The other woman is entirely uninterested in being Rowena’s gal pal after that, and punches her. Rowena’s about to hex the ever loving stuffing out of her, when Dean interrupts. He’s got a gun pointed at Rowena! Rowena smiles because behind Dean...is Dumbass, who has a gun pointed at DEAN. Dumbass compels Dean to free Rowena, who flees merrily. 

Dean apologizes to One Entire Butt, but he’s not having it. Dean explains that he was only a demon TEMPORARILY. One Entire Butt concludes that Dean is a monster through and through (demon or no demon) and they fight.

Sam hides out in the hotel room while the woman under the attack dog spell pounds frantically at the door. She pounds and pounds and pounds until...she just stops. Sam opens the door and she falls down, dead. 

Dean defeats Worm Guts and insists that they talk it out. He gives him the monster talk. It turns out that Dean remembers every detail of that kill and how Worm Gut’s father was out murdering people and eating livers. Dean retells that evening until Sam arrives. There’s another gun standoff with twitchy Worm Gut before Sam finally lowers his weapon. Worm Gut experiences emotions while trying to reconcile what he just heard with his memory of the past.  

Dean has one last revelation to drop. “I get it. That was your story. Look, man, I got one of those, too. Okay, but those stories that we tell to keep us going? Man, sometimes they blind us. ...The people who love me, they pulled me back from that edge. ...Now, the truth is I'm past saving. I know how my story ends. It's at the edge of a blade or the barrel of a gun.” DEAN WINCHESTER SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH.

Sam chimes in, urging Sack of Raw Eggs to go back home to his family. Dean gets his gun back though so, yay?

Caroline arrives home and knocks on the door. She reunites with her husband while Cas sits alone in his rain soaked car.

Cas opens up his laptop and looks up Jimmy Novak on the web - he’s still marked as missing after all these years. Cas bby.

Sam confronts Dean after Slime Mold takes off. Did he really mean all the sad things he said about himself? OF COURSE NOT, Dean tells him. He is FINE and has always had a healthy self image!

For Brooding Boys Science:

Cut to Crowley who’s being escorted by a minion to someone in a holding cell. The camera pans down to show ROWENA. She smiles at Crowley from her shackles and lobs barbs his way. The camera zooms in on an utterly gobsmacked Crowley.

“Mother?” he asks. And we fade to black.

QUOTER???!!!

Nice screen name, Dean. Impala67

Who knows what a soul is, really?

Hardly the most appetizing process in the world, but killing demons always makes me hungry

Screw the grand coven and their silly rules

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[dothwrites]

15.03 coda--weights on my ankles

You will find that it necessary to let things go; simply for the reason that they are heavy. So let them go, let go of them. I tie no weights to my ankles.--C Joybell C

Castiel drives for eight hours before the truck runs out of gas. He leaves its carcass abandoned on the side of a dusty highway and starts walking towards the dim horizon. At his back, the sun struggles to break free of the clinging fog of night, but Castiel keeps his eyes on the darkness ahead of him. 

After two hours of walking, his body starts to feel the beginnings of fatigue. His feet throb, his head spins, and his muscles scream in protest with every step he takes. Still, he keeps walking. He can’t stop. If he stops, then he’ll think, then he’ll feel the loss of the past days crash down like the weight of centuries on his shoulders--

Castiel keeps walking. 

The sun beats down on the back of his neck. A trickle of sweat slides down the back of his neck and underneath his shirt collar. His coat is stifling. Castiel tugs at the collar, trying to readjust it before he stops. 

Why does it seem like that thing’s always you? 

Dean’s words are a still seeping wound, one that he won’t recover from. 

With thoughtless motions, Castiel shrugs out of his coat. He leaves it on the side of the road, a crumpled mess. Let someone else find it. Let the small animals, the hares and possums, the deer and foxes, use it for shelter, for warmth. 

Castiel keeps walking. 

He comes to a small town on the Montana state line. He finds a motel which says Vacancy on the outside and walks into the office. His white shirt has turned a light brown from the dust and sweat. His shoes are covered in a fine patina of dirt. He still has a split lip. 

The cashier barely glances up at him. He asks her for one room. When asked how long his stay will be, he thinks. “One week,” he finally decides. After a moment’s thought, she rattles off a number. Castiel fishes into his wallet and hands her a wad of bills without counting. He takes the proffered key and walks away. 

Underneath the shower spray, Castiel finally allows himself to stop. 

He’d thought that Dean would stop him. 

He plays it out in his mind, there in the shower--Dean running after him, a hand on his shoulder, tugging him around. Dean’s eyes, snapping fierce on his. Dean, demanding an explanation, Dean demanding that he stay. 

Castiel doesn’t know if he would have, but it would have been nice to have been offered the choice. 

Instead, Dean had watched him go, wordless, soundless, careless. Beautiful. Cruel. Human. Castiel had dashed himself to pieces on the jagged edges of Dean Winchester until finally, there were no more pieces to pick up. 

Heat prickles behind his eyes. Water, not from the shower, falls down his face. 

Angels don’t cry. 

---

He sleeps that night. 

He hadn’t been lying when he said his powers were failing. He can still feel his grace, but it’s weak and erratic. He doesn’t have enough to heal the split in his lip and so he keeps tonguing it as he drifts off, just so he can feel the bright pulse of pain. 

He dreams, when he sleeps. He dreams of happier times, of meals spent in the bunker, of Jack’s laughter echoing from the walls. He dreams of the times after hunts when Dean would turn to him, the hope in his eyes hidden almost but not quite and say You wanna come and have a beer real quick? And Castiel, to keep up appearances, would pretend to think and consider, and say I suppose that I can, and then Dean would smile, bright and sunny. 

He dreams of his hand against Jack’s forehead, of pouring his grace into that body until it shriveled into nothingness before his eyes. Of his boy’s voice, tiny and afraid, saying Cas please, of Jack in the graveyard, I want to love you but I can’t, of Dean biting out You’re dead to me, of the charred skeleton he left in Hell. 

Castiel wakes, shivering, shaking. He doesn’t recognize the feeling in his stomach until bile pours out of his mouth, hot and sour. It dribbles down his chin and onto the blankets. The stench surrounds him and the taste fills his mouth. He swallows to try and chase it away, but it remains, vile and so very, very mortal. 

He brings a shaking hand to his forehead to try and wipe away the clammy sweat gathered there, then he remembers how his hand looked splayed out over Jack’s head and he retches again. 

---

It takes Sam three days to call. 

In that time Castiel found a small shopping center where he used the last of his cash to purchase new clothes. Gone is the last vestiges of Jimmy’s suit. In its place he has several pairs of jeans, sensible boots, and a few sensible shirts. In the store, he’d seen several plaid shirts and he’d gravitated towards them, out of a need for the familiar. His fingers had brushed the sleeve of one--soft, warm. The feel of Dean’s arm against the back of his neck. 

Castiel jerked away like he’d been burned. 

His phone rings, shrill in his pocket. Castiel pulls it out and answers, already knowing who is on the other end. 

“Cas.” There’s relief in Sam’s voice, but it’s only a shred. The rest is carefully blank. Any nuance is lost over miles of phone lines. “For a second I thought you weren’t going to answer.” 

Castiel doesn’t reply. He listens for a few moments to the quiet sounds of Sam breathing. There’s a hollowness on the other end of the line which tells him that Sam is in the bunker. He wonders where Dean is--in his room? At the shooting range? At a bar? A surge of hot something curls through Castiel’s stomach, and he dismisses it. 

Finally realizing that Castiel has no intention of speaking, Sam sighs. “Look, I guess you know why I’m calling.” Again, he pauses, inviting Castiel into the conversation. Again, Castiel remains silent. He’d meant it when he’d said that there wasn’t anything else to say. 

“Cas,” Sam says again, this time quieter. Honest. “Look, I know that you said that you were leaving but...” 

“Are you asking me to come back?” Castiel finally asks. He doesn’t know whether or not he’s angry at Sam. While Sam exhibited none of Dean’s petty cruelties, he certainly didn’t restrain his brother. 

“I don’t...Are you ok?” There’s something bleak and hopeless in Sam’s voice. He lost Rowena. Castiel understands. 

“I’m fine.” Castiel looks out over the small park. Children play in the grass while adults jog around the path. Several geese root through the grass. It’s all so beautiful. 

“I just...I’m sorry, all right? I know that Dean and you...I know what he said, he told me--” 

“That all your problems have been my fault?” 

Castiel can’t help the snap in his voice, mostly because in some part, it’s true. If he hadn’t opened Purgatory, if he hadn’t released the Leviathan...how many tragedies could have been averted? If he’d managed to see through Metatron’s lies, how many of his brothers and sisters would still be alive? If he hadn’t said yes to Lucifer, how many lives might have been spared? 

“Cas, you know...” Sam sighs. The sound is defeated. “You know he didn’t mean that, right?”

Yes he did. Castiel might not have the full force of his grace, but he has enough, enough to see the surface of Dean’s soul. He meant every word. 

“What’s done is done,” Castiel says instead. Whatever faith Sam has left in his brother, Castiel doesn’t want to destroy it. “The apocalypse is over. You and Dean have no more need of me.” 

A small, frustrated noise winds its way through the phone. “Cas, you know that we...It’s not about what we need.” 

Isn’t it though, Cas wants to ask. Isn’t it about what he can do for the Winchesters, how he can help them. The few times that he’s asked for their help, they came begrudgingly or not at all. Always happy to bleed for the Winchesters. 

Castiel has bled. Castiel has died. And even that wasn’t enough. 

“Sam. You know that I value our time together.” Castiel doesn’t say friendship. There’s too much hurt on his side and too little emotion on Sam’s side for that word to come through. Though Sam never said anything, Castiel senses--Sam blames him as well. He might be better at hiding it than Dean, but deep down, deep enough that maybe Sam doesn’t even know it’s there...he blames Castiel. 

“But it’s time for me to...” Castiel trails off. He doesn’t know what it is exactly, that he wants to do. All he knows is that whatever it is, it can’t happen with Sam and Dean. 

“You know that if you ever need anything, you just have to call right?” 

“Of course,” Castiel murmurs. 

“Right.” Sam’s voice sounds dissatisfied, but he doesn’t try to stop Castiel, doesn’t beg him to come back. “Ok. Um...Good luck. I guess.” 

“Goodbye Sam,” Castiel says. 

After hanging up the phone, he stares at the small piece of plastic and metal in his hands. He thumbs through his contact list. The list of names is pitifully small. Worse when he considers how few of those he can actually call. 

Rowena is dead. Ketch is dead. Jack is...Jack is...Sam is better off without him. And Dean. 

With one movement, Castiel breaks the phone in half. Tiny glass shards embed themselves in the pad of his thumb, but he ignores the pain as he tosses the two halves in the trash can, before walking away from the park. 

---

Read the rest on ao3! 

[webcricket]

Winter’s Eye

Pairing: AU!CastielXReader Word Count: 1143 (Ch. X) Story Summary: Season 13 canon tells you how AU!Castiel’s story ends, this is how it begins. The deranged and damaged iteration of Castiel we met in the apocalypse universe - an obedient soldier to Michael’s cause barely in control of his vessel’s frayed and erratically firing nerves whose inherent kindness toward humankind appeared entirely obliterated - wasn’t always an unfeeling angelic weapon of interrogation. Once, he sympathized with the plight of humans; one, he loved. Chapter Summary: Bliss is an island in the path of an oncoming storm.

Series Masterlist

X.

Freezing air shrouds your arm creating a cascade of goose pimples across your brine-kissed flesh as you stretch out and search the empty expanse of still warm sheets crumpled in the space beside you.

“Cas?” you call out sleepily into the darkness of the cabin; a faint moonlit glow creeps in from the windows and provides your eyes enough contrast as they adjust to make out the form of the angel futzing with the stove to relight the neglected fire. Only in his absence from the bed, of his naked heat molded to your body between frictional interludes of fiery lovemaking, do you notice the encroaching cold.

Match held tight in his fingertips, he strikes the sulfuric tip upon the box; the concentrated set of his features flares bright. Cupping his hand to protect the match from extinguishing in the swift flick of his wrist, he tosses the spark into the cavernous kindling-stuffed gaping of iron.

Satisfied by the rapid upward leap of flames, he shuts the door and shifts the focus of his blues - ablaze in their own inner flame - to your beckoning figure.

“Come back to bed,” you simper; sitting up, you swaddle your shoulders and bare breasts in the blanket to shield yourself not from the intensity of his gaze, but from a stray draft that shivers up your spine even as his regard ignites your skin in a flush.

Unabashedly nude, thickly toned body impervious to the icy bite of the air, he stands - statuesque in solidity and intent - from where he crouches and casts a frowning look at the depleted stack of wood. “There isn’t enough to keep the fire burning through the night,” he murmurs his concern. There isn’t enough on account of you having spent the better part of the previous night and day and night again engaged in less practical more euphorically inclined expenditures of energy.

“We’ll manage.” Your low laugh does little to penetrate his emerging uneasiness over his pleasure-seeking disregard for your care. “Cas-” the breathy exhalation of his name garners his attention. Soft stretch of a smile denting your cheek, you lull his perpetual penchant for worrying with a reassurance- “the trees will wait ‘til morning. Cuddling with you is plenty warm.”

Swaggering nearer in his stripped glory, the gleam of his blues darken. “Just the cuddling?”

“You never tire, do you?” Reaching out, giggling, fingers encircling his wrist, you yank him under the tent of sheets and blanket and press yourself pliantly into his embrace.

“Of this? Definitely not.” Snuggling you to his torso, christening the top of your tousled hair with a smiling kiss, his stare drifts thoughtfully to the ceiling.

You watch him think, observe the glimmer of irises antic with life, and wait with baited breath for the tiny twitch of his upper lip that tells you he’s decided what it is he wants to say. So near, you can see where the sense of serenity you’ve shared softens some of the hardness of suffering etched into his aspect like tempest floods carving out canyons over a millennia revealing a resplendent rugged beauty in a spring sunrise.

“I find much awe in humanity,” he confesses, angling to look you in the eyes before he continues, his fingers hook your chin to tilt your lips near his, brushing them as he speaks. “I think what amazes me most is that humankind survived as long as they have with such pleasures as this available to them. You are remarkable-”

Cutting him off, an involuntary yawn unlooses itself from your lips; your nose crinkles in self-effacing apology.

He kisses the adorably scrunched protuberance and moves to rest his forehead against yours; amusement lightens his voice. “Remarkable … and tired.”

“Good tired,” you correct lest he think you’re tired of him. “Sore and sleepy is all.”

It hadn’t occurred to him his marathon exploration of the thus far limitless bounds of unbridled desire might hurt you. “I could soothe the soreness,” he offers.

“No, I like it,” you quickly decline, preferring the deep ache of spent muscles and blissful numbness of electrically expended nerves to the dull pain of apocalyptic normalcy. “It feels nice. Like echoes of you all over.”

He tenses. “You mean of this vessel’s touch.”

That shoots a pained spike of wakefulness through your brain. That’s not what you meant at all, although you can understand his confusion. Hell, it’s confusing to you as well moment to moment remembering he’s a wavelength of celestial intent crammed into a framework of someone else’s skeleton. You prop up on an elbow to peer into his eyes and place a palm over his heart. “No, I meant of the real you. The angelic being I can’t see. The one I can feel when I close my eyes.”

It seems to him with every breath you take, with every beat of your heart, and with every sensitivity of understanding you extend to him, you become more beautiful by the minute.

“Is he in there still?” you ask, curious now that the subject has arisen.

“Jimmy,” Cas supplies the name; sadness dims the shine of his eyes.

“Jimmy,” you mouth the name in a bare whisper.

“Jimmy Novak,” he repeats to complete the surname out of respect for what the man gave him and firmly believing he deserves at least that given how he ill-used him in his failed angelic exploits. “Yes, and no. He used to be there, in the background. I could feel his emotions. Feel how he suffered along with me. When I failed him, failed to keep his family safe as I had promised I would, he seemed to sink somewhere I could no longer hear him. And when I fell from Heaven, when Michael cast me down, I think Jimmy’s soul, whatever was left of him after all that pain and loss, after everything he saw and experienced under my power, I think he stayed there with them.”

“So it is just you.” You dart your fingers ticklishly down along the ridge of his ribcage, tuck your arm across his waist, and lay your head upon his chest. “Once, you were only a part of him, of this body, but now it’s a part of you. You consider it a vessel, separate from yourself, but it belongs to you now, Cas.”

“I suppose it does, yes.” He settles his hand across your arm and, stroking your skin, snugs you nearer. Silently, he nurtures the added hope, ‘And to you if you’ll have me.’

Gaze gliding in the dark to the silhouette of a sigil gilding the window as you slip into slumber, he mistakes a sudden rise of dread drying his throat and pilling the hair of his neck as the simple somatic reaction of his angelic nature to the warded warning against heavenly kind.

Castiel tag list:  (Closed, if you’d like to be removed please let me know!)    @jeepangel​  @sammiesamness​  @willowing-love​  @blueicevalkyrie​   @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11​  @thesugargalaxy​  @bluetina-blog​   @honeybeetrash​  @bucky-thorin-winchester​  @superwholockz   @tistai  @wordstothewisereaders​  @gill-ons​  @mrswhozeewhatsis​  @marisayouass  @stone-met   @castiel-savvy18​  @samualmortgrim  @trexrambling  @magnificent-mantle  @xdifsx  @mandilion76  @rockfairy  @peaceloveancolor  @unicorntrooper  @anisolatedship  @itsilvermorny  @aditimukul  @kudosia  @goofynerd-67babylove  @uninspirationalsonglyrics  @gray-avidan​  @mishascupcake   @mishapanicmeow   @praisecastielamen  @roseyhxnt   @let-the-imaginationflow  @fuschiarulerinthebluebox  @coolpencilpie  @jenabean75 @luciathewinchestergirl  @morganas-pendragons  @heyitscam99  @fangirl-and-stuff  @selahbela  @realgreglestrade  @splendidcas  @pointlesscasey  @i-larb-spooderman  @thewhiterabbit42  @thelostverse  @castieliswatchingoverme  @beccollie18  @dragonett8  @dixie-chick  @jtownraindancer​   @carowinsthings  @passionghost​  @ladyofletters67​ @futureparent​  @gabbie7-11  @myfandomlife-blog  @dreamerkim  @shamelesslydean  @earthtokace​  @neaeri  @justanormalangel  @lone-loba  @supernaturalymarvel  @lilrubixx  @wings-and-halo  @lilulo-12​​  @x-cassiopeia​ @thehoneybeecastielfollows  @musiclovinchic93​  @81mysteriouslyme​  @the-bottom-of-the-abyss  @jaylarkson  @missjenniferb​  @jessiekay2010​

[lesbiansastiel]

still untitled fic chapter 3

this chapter is mostly a flashback. cas x sam. the title is a reference to a song that i have been listening all day its ridiculous and i love it and im gonna make a teenager au for samcas based on it.....yeah... ANYWAYS here it is. chapter 1 & 2 are here x

Chapter 3. Kissavideoita

Sam remembers that specific night, the sunset, the parking lot, the weather. That night Sam was praying for Castiel to show up, to answer, to help them, to help Sam. Sam was aching for someone to see him and talk to him and talk him down from this intense feeling of hopelessness he had. Dean was not there, they were separated, and Sam now knew that he was meant to become Lucifer’s vessel, that he was the True Vessel, and he was so alone, and helpless. He felt like he was to blame for the whole Michael-Lucifer-war plan, on top of feeling guilty for letting Lucifer out from the cage in the first place. So much guilt. It was all on his shoulders, and he felt like he could never be forgiven. He didn’t think he deserved to be.

But then Castiel showed up. 

“Hello, Sam,” Cas said in a familiar tone while sitting on the passenger’s seat, like he had been sitting there for a longer time than two seconds, his hands resting against his legs. Sam gathered his thoughts and turned his shoulders to Cas’ direction, looking at his jacket’s collar, which was folded strangely. He had an urge to straighten it, but kept himself from doing that.

In this moment he couldn’t say anything. He was just wondering how it was possible that Cas had such a calming aura that all his worries felt so far away in this car, in this moment. For a while they didn’t speak, like there was a silent agreement that this was best for both of them, this comfortable silence. Sam turned to look out from the window on his side, at the sunset, and surprised himself by admiring it. The colors were wonderful. It was warm in the car and the sky looked like it was burning, and his tense shoulders started to relax a bit. Then Cas took a sharp inhale and opened his mouth, still looking at Sam.

“I felt your calls. You seemed desperate,” Cas said, calmly. He sounded worried, or confused. Sam realised he hasn’t said a thing to Cas this whole time.

Sam swallowed and looked at Cas again.

“I, uh,” he begun, “I was- am desperate.” Sam was struggling to explain why exactly he wanted Cas to come. What exactly did he want?

“I understand. I heard you are Lucifer’s true vessel. And Dean is not here,” Cas’ eyes drill into Sam’s in an what-would-be-uncomfortable -way if it were anyone else, “you feel lonely, Sam.”

Sam nodded and swallowed again, his mouth going dry simultaneously, and his throat hurting. “I will not cry,” he told to himself.

“What can I do?” Cas asked.

“Just, sit here, for a while. It helps,” Sam said, looking out of the window again, staring at the changing colours. His throat was pulsing and head hurting. He pushed the tears back, “I will not cry”. For a while it was quiet and he managed to stop the tears.

He heard Cas moving, and turned to look, hoping that he wasn’t leaving. The angel had taken a more comfortable position, leaning his head back against the seat and looking at Sam with weary eyes. Sam wanted to look at the sunset, he did not want miss those incredible colours, but looking at Cas was even better. Sam turned the seat-warmer off, because he noticed the need to remove his jacket, and then leaned his head against the seat, as well. 

“Does this help?” Cas echoed Sam’s words while examining Sam’s face. Sam nodded. It really did.

----------

Sam cannot show this memory to Cas, but it seems that wherever he drives, they end up in that same parking lot. 

“Why are you running from that memory?” Cas asks from the back, holding on to the back of the driver’s seat.

“We need to move on,” Sam blurts out and wonders how any of this is actually happening, why are they in heaven and why did that memory make it to his.

“No, Sam, you’re overwhelmed, you need to calm down,” Cas is rising their voice a bit, sounding sterner than before. Sam knows that he needs to calm down, they need to find Joshua, which requires leaving his heaven, but he can’t calm down because he really, really, doesn’t want Cas to know that that moment in time made it into his literal heaven.

“I will calm down somewhere else. Can you help me leave this place?”

“I,” Cas says sternly, “can’t do anything here, Sam.”

Sam feels frustrated, but he knows this is irrational, Cas is most likely not going to bring that moment up afterwards, or judge his heaven. But it feels too personal, letting them know this out of all things is a part of his heaven. 

“Sam, you need to let it play out, whatever it is, or we won’t be able to find an exit from your heaven. Follow the road, for now, and your mind will take you where you need to go”.

Sam nods to himself, feeling defeated. Castiel is the heaven expert, after all, there’s no avoiding this. He prays that seeing this memory won’t bring up any awkward conversation later. And on the side, he thanks god for Dean not being here.

Then he drives to the parking lot, for the last time, and this time, he lets the memory play out like it happened.

----------

They had been sitting for a while, Sam had turned the seat warmer back on and Cas had changed position so that his legs were closer to the middle of the car, knees pressed together. Sometimes he closed his eyes for a bit and Sam wondered what was on his mind. He felt like asking how things were, but he didn’t want this calmness to end. When Cas was around, Sam’s thoughts never, not once, wandered back to the agonizing guilt and anxiety like they did all the time when he was alone. He felt safe. That was Cas’ aura, or just his effect on Sam, specifically. 

Sam’s thoughts did wander, though, but into a different sphere completely. He thought about Cas’ past and his relationships to people and other angels, and his family. Cas’ never-ending hope and faith. He thought about how Cas was an actual angel, with wings, and powers, and probably a halo, and his own language (that now was connected to Sam too, because it was written on his ribs), too. He thought about how he felt so much better as soon as he saw Cas, and heard his voice, which was actually not his voice, but Jimmy Novak’s voice. The way Cas talked was his own, though, Jimmy had sounded completely different, walked different, even smelled different. Sam wondered how could that be? Does a soul - or whatever angels are or have - have a scent? Sam thought about how he wanted to see what Cas really looked like, if he even was anything physical, he wondered if he could ever really hear Cas’ voice. He wondered if angels could read minds, as they could read dreams, or… go inside dreams, maybe they could go inside people’s minds... Then he realised, this might be a dream and had the urge to pinch himself. It was not a dream.

“Why did you come now? I’ve called you many times before… why now?” Sam asked suddenly, thinking out loud.

Cas turned to look at Sam again, frowning a little, and answered: “I haven’t heard you before. Now, I felt like you were in trouble. I wouldn’t ignore your calls, Sam.”

“Oh,” Sam said, “But I wasn’t… in trouble.”

“I see that now,” Cas rubbed his knee with his hand, “maybe you were about to be.”

Sam blinked slowly. Was he about to be in trouble? Maybe it was possible? He could’ve been in trouble if Cas hadn’t showed up.

“Thanks. For coming. It helped.”

“I don’t see how I’m helping, but I’m always here for you Sam.”

Sam felt a bad itch to take Cas by the hand, and it surprised him. His arm twisted and stomach turned. 

“Uh, thank you, Cas. Really, I-”

“Sam, I do have a question,” Cas interrupted him suddenly and Sam was thankful, because he didn’t know where that sentence was going to end.

“Yeah?”

“Did you ever consider taking the offer?” Cas said “the offer” quietly, almost whispering. Sam stayed silent for a bit too long, because he didn’t want to think about this whole thing, but the answer was clear.

“No.” Sam looked Cas in the eyes, and felt his answer coming true as he said it.

“Good.”

A brief silence subsided in the car.

Cas inhaled and exhaled deeply and then said that Dean was considering the offer.

“Yeah, I could tell. He won’t do it, though.” Sam tried to reassure himself, mostly. Cas nodded and they looked at each other for a while longer. 

Sam thought about heading back to the motel. Cas looked away and felt tenser again.

“I admire you, Sam,” Cas said quietly, looking out from the windscreen.

Sam was taken aback by that, his stomach twisting and turning again. 

“You’re strong, and brave. There’s not many people like you,” Cas continued, now briefly looking at Sam and looking back outside again. The sun had set, only the leftover light left. It would be dark soon.

“Thank you. I feel weak and scared. But thank you,” Sam said, smiling at Cas. Cas looked at him, looking almost shocked.

“What do you fear?” Cas asked genuinely.

“Everything. Myself, the plan-”

“Yourself?” Cas’ voice was so soft and caring that Sam’s insides were bouncing around again.

“Yeah, Cas. I guess I’ve always felt a bit scared of myself.” Sam was looking at that strange collar again and now reached his hand out to fix it. It was folded under Cas’ jacket so he pulled it out and folded it neatly on the outside of it. Cas reached to touch Sam’s hand and held their hands up against his neck for a while and said:

“You are not someone to fear. I have never seen anything but kindness in you.”

They looked at each other for a moment, that felt like a forever, and Sam was holding Cas’ jacket’s collar and Cas was holding Sam’s hand carefully. Sam looked at their hands and back at Cas’ face, and back at their hands. He didn’t realise he hadn’t replied, that Cas was probably waiting for a reply.

Then Cas lowered his hand and Sam was left holding onto his collar, until he let go and straightened his own sleeve. Sam coughed awkwardly and said:

“Thanks Cas. I, uh, I should-”

“You should sleep, Sam. Get some rest,” Cas interrupted him and turned to look outside again.

“Yeah. Thanks again. For hanging out,” Sam confirms and nods a few times. He feels like he’s been punched to the gut and he wants to say more, to hang out more but it’s probably better this way, he’s getting too many emotions, he’s confused and tired and so lonely. So lonely.

“I’m always here for you, and you can call me on the mobile device, as well,” Cas said before looking at Sam for the last goodbye-look and disappearing. Sam was left alone in the car and suddenly it felt so cold. But he still felt the touch of the angel on his hand.