#a liar; a spy; a man who will kill with *very* little prompting -

[tokidokifish]

it’s just so funny to hear the “garashir is unhealthy” discourse as the big dumb baby i am, who actually doesn’t much care to seek out toxic relationships and balks on reading fanfics that are even tagged with bittersweet ending. i am a vanilla wafer of a fandom girlie and i fuckin LOVE garashir bc i think it’s a genuinely healthy relationship built on mutual respect and affection, and buddy what else do you even NEED??

[abluescarfonwaston]

Did someone ask for a quick and angsty immortal jaskier prompt? "It was supposed to be the music," he whispered, voice breaking. Heart breaking. "The songs. I wanted my songs to be remembered forever. I never wanted this."

Why would you do this to me anon. i’m already crying over the fact dandelion outlives everyone he loves. Major Character Death Warning. Obviously. Literally everyone dies. Uuuh also this kinda turns into Lambert/Jaskier at the end but like. They’re both Centuries old so nothing Happens.

When the wasting sickness swept through Lettenhove it killed his Mother and his Father and his Sisters and left him untouched. 

He was ten and the world was over. Except he kept waking up in the morning.

At thirteen a girl at Oxenfurt, Essi Daven, played her Lute in the commons and sang and had the most beautiful cornflower blue eyes. And for the first time in years he sang a duet with her and suddenly he was a bard and he had a little sister again. 

Maybe the world hadn’t ended. Maybe it finally restart.

At seventeen he met a man with white hair and seemly as many scars on his body as his heart and fell in love. Because Bards fell in love easily and he was impossibly easy to love.

The witcher plead for his life. Plead for them to let the bard go.

“No. Both of us or neither.” He was done outliving those he loved. At seventeen he was already done with that. “You kill him and let me go and i’ll destroy your mountain. Kill every last one of you in revenge.”

He’d leave behind a song. The one he’d written as a child and had swept the town more devastating than even the scarlet fever had been. It would live on past him. He would be remembered. The people he loved would be too. Toss a coin to your Witcher. The people he loved immortalized in song.

It wasn’t supposed to make him immortal.

“Give it a rest Jaskier.” Danity snapped. “It’s not you that has to be afraid of anything. No one ever touches a troubadour. For unfathomable reasons you’re inviolable.”

He’d still feared then. Chappelle could have had him killed. He was pretty sure he could die. Mostly he feared the pain. Or dying alone.

“When an old woman gets tired of life she walks into the woods without a weapon. The results are guaranteed.” He’d told Geralt when he’d moaned about how the world was changing and -more importantly- that he had no work.

Remember how I don’t even carry a knife when I follow you out on an adventure? No weapons at all. Ever. Just me and my lute.

He’d brushed death. A thousand times he’d almost met her. He followed Geralt- who was prophesied to always have death follow after him. You’d think at some point they’d meet.

Essi and Geralt fell in love on the coast. He wrote a ballad for them. About how their love was so powerful not even death could come between them.

He never played it. Not to anyone. He didn’t think it was actually about Essi and Geralt.

When rash appeared on Essi’s face in Vizima during the quarantine his hands shook.

“Not her.” He’d screamed at the gods. They didn’t exist of course. If they had then they’d abandoned them all long ago. “Not her.”

“Jaskier?” She shivered violently. “I don’t want to be burned.”

“You won’t be. You’re going to be fine.” He promised. Clutching her hand. “Promise Poppet. You’re going to be fine.”

The cremation fires blazed outside.

“I want to be buried in the woods. With my lute and-” She hurled mostly into the bucket. “My necklace. Please Jaskier.”

“Course Poppet. When you’re old and grey I will bury you out in the forest.”

“Thank you.” She clutched the little pearl. “For giving me him. I love him.”

“I never saw him happier than when he was with you Poppet.”

“What about when he was with you?”

“Oh come now.” He shifted her in his arms and moved the bucket a little further away. “You know me. I’m insufferable.”

“I love you Jaskier.” She cried as she shivered with less and less energy.

“I love you too Poppet.”

He carried her from the city. Into the forest. Her heart stopped beating before they arrived. He dug her grave and buried her with her lute and her pearl necklace.

With the pearl he’d given to her as a birthday gift. From him and Geralt.

When Regis passed it felt absurd. Humans weren’t supposed to outlive goddamn vampires in their fifth fucking century.

And then there was Geralt. Died in Yennefer’s arms along with her.

“It was supposed to be me.” He told no one as Ciri led their bodies out to the lake. “I was supposed to die with him.” Love so great not even death can part us.

But the story was never really about him was it?

Nenneke had a garden full of plants that grew under a crystal skylight. They didn’t grow anywhere else in the world anymore.

He’d asked Geralt about it. She’d said something about the sun and how it was changing. Apparently Geralt had asked why they all didn’t live under crystal skylights then, if it was so deadly.

“It’s already too late for us.” She’d said.

She talked liked the world was ending but the world ended all the time. And he still woke up in the morning.

Zoltan’s beard turned grey. He supposed he should have been thankful that Zoltan got to turn grey. It was better than most of the people he’d loved.

“How’s your fucking hair still Gold. You’re supposed to be getting old too!”

“I dye it.” He lied with a roll of the eyes. He’d stopped dying it years ago.

That winter he buried Zoltan too.

Golden eyes stared at him in confusion. “You look just like.” He started. His thin hair was grey. His wolf medallion gleamed in the sunlight that streaked into the bar.

“You’re one of the last Witchers i think.” He told him as the waves crashed outside. “Might even be the last.”

“Fucking hope so.” He sat down across from him and stole his beer. “Shitty job and a shitty life.” He squinted at him- which Jaskier knew was entirely unnecessary. He just forgotten to adjust his eyes. “What’s your name bard?”

“Dandelion.” He answered. It had been for the last century. “Yours?”

“Lambert.” He downed the drink. “You really think i’m the last? That worth a song? One of my brothers had a lot of songs.”

“Yes I suppose he did.” He waved for another drink. “And look what it got him.”

“Died surrounded by people who loved him.”

“Are you sure you know what a pogrom is?”

That got him a sharp toothy grin.

“I could write you a song but-” He was tired of burying people he loved.

“But?”

“I’m cursed you see.” It was definitely a curse these days. “I’ll live until the last of my songs is forgotten. I really don’t need anymore material.”

Lambert leaned forward curiously. “Doesn’t sound like a curse.”

“You don’t think it sounds like a curse?” He sneered. Lambert’s face faltered. “To outlive everyone you love?”

Lambert paused. Thinking. “Write me a song then. Play it just for me. So if my song’s the last we’ll go together.”

“And what’s my payment for this song?”

“Company.” Lambert’s grey eyes glittered. “You look like you need it.”

“Not as much as you. I bet you talk to your horse.”

“Well i know you do pretty boy. Heard you in the stable.”

He leaned back on the bench. “So what’s a Witcher do in a world without monsters?”

He shrugged. “Fish mostly.”

“I can do that. Once almost snagged a catfish the size of you. Got a djinn instead. Very bad deal honestly.”

“You expect me to believe that? I know about Bards and Ballads and how you’re all rotten liars.”

“Don’t forget about fisherman and their tales.”

The boat leaked worse than an old drunkard but it was small enough and the lake calm enough that it didn’t make him sick.

“I could just kill you. Curse probably can’t fix decapitation.” Lambert offered with his stick in the water. He claimed were bombs they could use instead if they got desperate. Or bored.

He smiled and shook his head. “Give it a try.”

Lambert raised an eyebrow but pulled a silver blade from it’s sheath.

His pole reeled and the boat tilted to the side, plunging him and the sword into the water.

He laughed as the attempted to drag the monstrous fish to the boat. Lambert cursed and climbed in. Yanking at the rod until the line snapped and they fell back into the boat in a painful pile. Laughing.

He didn’t remember the last time he’d laughed.

“Sing me a song bard.” Lambert would request from under his floppy sun brimmed hat. “No else up here but me.”

“There’s an entire stone keep on the hill.”

“No ones lived there in centuries. No one can hear you up here but me.”

He frowned at the ruins on the hill. Lambert kicked him.

He grinned and for the first time in decades - sang.

Maybe. Maybe the world hadn’t ended. Maybe it had finally restart.

“What was this place called?” He asked as they wandered through the crumbled ruin, covered in moss and ivy.

“Kaer Morhen.” He said like the words hurt him.

They hurt him too. He laughed.

He laughed some more.

He couldn’t stop laughing until Lambert smacked him hard enough to see stars.

“I never got to come here. Geralt.” He caught the flinch but moved past it. “Never trusted me enough to even let me know which country it was in.”

“So you were his bard.”

He nodded as Lambert kicked a stone apart. “He was right not to tell me of course. But.” It still hurt that his best friend hadn’t trusted him with his home. He’d taken Yennefer here. But not him. Never him.

He didn’t deserve Geralt’s trust. A thief, a liar, a spy, a bard. It still hurt.

“Well a wolf finally took you here. Is it everything you fucking dreamed?”

He took it in. “Nah. It’s rubbish.”

Lambert smirked. “Yeah. At least that hasn’t changed.”

“You’re hairs getting grey bard.”

“What?” He nearly leaped into the water in his haste to look.

Grey strands streaked his beard.

“Thank you.” He cried. “Thank you.”

“Still owe me that song Dandy.”

He wrote Lambert a lot of songs. Performed for an audience of one.

“Are you really okay with the fact no one will ever hear them? I mean what’s the point in being immortalized in song if-”

“Yeah. Didn’t give a shit about the songs.”

“Hey!” He protested. Kicking him where he lounged in front of the fire. “They’re good songs!”

He grunted in fake pain. Wiggled out of range. “Did Geralt ever tell you why he liked having you around?”

“My charming personality I assume.”

Lambert snorted.

He sat down on the floor and poke him. “Don’t fall asleep. Tell me why you think he did.”

“No one tells Witchers bedtime stories.”

“Oh.” Lambert was halfway to sleep already. “Would you like one?”

“Yeah.”

“What you think happens after?” They were huddled together. Old and grey as a storm raged outside. “We die.”

“I gave up on gods when i was a child.”

“So did i.”

“Then.” He paused. Listened to the howl. “Whatever’s next at least neither of us is going alone.”

Lambert squeezed his bony hand. “What’s the chance we see them again?”

“Hm.” He pretended to consider. “Well we’re definitely going to hell so-”

“Like anyone we gave a shit about wouldn’t be.”

“Point.”

He closed his golden eyes. “Hey Dandy.”

“Yeah?”

“Sing me out.”

“It’d be my pleasure.”

And quite singing filled the drafty cabin until the song stopped.

The world ended.

And at long last no one woke up in the morning.

[gyll-yee-haw]

Loyalty

Mob! Quentin smut

Prompt: Nick Fury sends you to destroy Quentin's mob, but things don't turn out as expected.

Warnings: dirty talk, spanking, rough sex, a bit of crying and manipulation

Like 1.1k words.

---

You thought you knew what you were doing when you accepted Nick Fury's mission to break Myterio's mob from the inside. But arrogance was a terrible trait to have on this job.

Things were so easy in the begining. All you had to do was wear a short dress. Quentin Beck wasn't as smart as he believed he was. Didn't take long for you to go from his bed to his office. And soon, you were giving Nick all the information you heard.

But that was only the begining.

At some point, Quentin didn't treat you like just one more girl in his bed. You two developed a strong relationship. He treated you like a princess, spoiled in every way he could… And before you could abort mission, you were in love.

Things changed completely when you realized you were in love. You started to ignore Fury's calls, let your guard down next to Quentin, allowing him to notice some things that you were hiding before…

Until the day he called you at his office.

Tension filled the room when your phone, that was on his table, began to ring. Unknown number.

"Aren't you gonna answer that, love?" He raised an eyebrow.

"No." You avoided eye contact. "It's not important."

You hated the power that man had over you. You were trained to be a professional cold-blooded liar. But he made you too nervous to use your skills…

"How do you know?" He placed his hand beside your phone, making you jump to grab it before he could.

He watched you without making a move. You cursed yourself mentally.

"Are you seeing someone else, darling?" He closed his hand in a fist. Oh, so he was just jealous? He didn't find out about your mission? "Someone like…"

"Don't say that, you know I would never…" You breathed relieved.

"Nick Fury?" He continued, making you realize you relaxed too soon.

"I never heard that name before." You lied.

"Oh you haven't? Let me refresh your memory." He grabbed you by the arm, pushing your face against the wall, keeping your hands behind your back as he searched for any weapons or recording devices. But you didn't have them anymore. That's why Nick was calling, you had absolutely abandoned your mission. "Nick Fury… The one who's been trying to ruin all my plans. The one you work for."

"I work for you." You stood there paralyzed. You knew pretty well what that man was capable of.

"Who do you think you're fooling here?" He chuckled darkly, pressing his hips against your butt. "I found out all about you. I have to tell you, Y/N… You played me very well at first. Good job, nobody ever got this far. Still, I have to ask you… What happened these last months? Did you forget how to lie?"

"I realized you had a point." You tried to grind your butt against his hips, feeling him getting hard. "I fell in love with you."

"I'm gonna get Fury on the phone right now, just so you can tell him that." He laughed, moving one hand to your legs, ending up between them, stroking your clothed heat. "Can you imagine his face? He sends me his best spy and I get her whining like a slut for me? The poor little thing claims she's in love."

"Quentin, please…" You cry out.

"Please what?" He rips your underwear and throws it aside. "You shouldn't be begging me for my cock, babygirl, you should be begging me for your life. You know what happens to people who betray me."

"You're not gonna kill me." You gasp when he begins to stroke your folds violently.

"Why wouldn't I?" He asks curiously.

"Because if you would… Fuck." You shut your eyes and try to focus on what you were saying, but he keeps rubbing your clit hard. "If you would, you would do it as soon as you found out."

"I should have, you're right." He continued touching you. "But I decided it would be more fun this way."

"You love me too." You smirked. "That's why."

He stopped touching you suddently, making you moan frustratedly. Soon, you felt him slapping you butt really hard.

"I almost did." He whispered against your ear. "You could have been my queen. But then I found out who you really are and now I have to hurt you."

"You changed me." You felt the tears coming.

He turned you around, so now you were facing him, with your back pressed on the wall.

"I don't trust you anymore." He said, pulling his pants down and your skirt up, grabbing his hard cock and rubbing your clit with it.

"Please, Quent, I love you." You left the tears fall.

"You're gonna have to prove me." He shrugged. "After I'm done with you, of course."

After saying that, he shoved his dick inside you and started to thrust mercilessly. He tried to pretend you had no effect on him, but he never took you like this. You could see passion and anger in his eyes, you could taste it on his kiss.

"You belong to me now." He said, spreading bites all over your neck.

"I do, I'm yours, Quentin." You moaned loudly.

"Mine." He said, and you felt him coming inside you with a moan, triggering your orgasm.

He freed you completely, but you could barely stand after all that. So he grabbed you like you were nothing and threw you on his chair, kneeling in front of you with an angry expression, holding a finger close to your face.

"I don't usually give anyone a second chance, you know that, don't you?" He said and you nodded. "Keep that in mind. I'm only going to give you one if you do something for me."

"Anything." You said weakly.

"You're gonna personally tell Nick Fury that you work for me now." He said dramatically, caressing your cheek. "Or even better… tell him you love me."

"But he will arrest me." You hesitated for a second.

"Oh, I assure you, babygirl… he won't lay a finger on you." He smiked. "You're gonna meet somewhere public. I know he's gonna take his men. But you're gonna take mine. And they know… if you come back with any bruise on your beautiful skin that I didn't cause myself… They're dead."

"Should I call Fury?" You smirked back at him.

"Good girl." He stroked the inside of your thighs. "Show me loyalty and I'll give you the world."

[godkilller]

[ Apologies if this has been asked before, but why do you think Gin chose not to let Rangiku in on why he always acted the way he did on the outside (why he adopted his sly fox-like persona to the Gotei and Aizen) and chose to deceive her as well? How do you think he weighed out the two options of telling her or not telling her, and what do you think prompted him to choose the latter? Also, do you think that he thought it would be better the way he went about it? Why? ]

          As always, you ask an excellent question—-that has multiple levels of answers, really. This can be broken down into bits and pieces, but I don’t want to get too lost in my own words (hopefully I still don’t) so I’ll do my best to explain. And, as always, thank you for your engaging and interactive questions that help me further flesh out my favorite character!

          Gin made his Terrible Life Choice ( #1 ) when he was a child. He involved himself in the business of avenging, in the business of Aizen’s interests, when he was a mere kid. To Gin, he had just declared war against perhaps the strongest and most cunning Shinigami in all of Soul Society. No one else knew of this man’s criminal activities ( or worse, they didn’t care enough to stop him, OR couldn’t even hope to try ) which lead him to the path of secrecy he took. Anyone could be a pawn of Aizen’s, or indifferent to the pain he was causing—-Gin couldn’t just run around and tell anyone about the connection he made, about what he was doing. It’s not that he didn’t trust Rangiku to keep a secret, it’s that he didn’t want her to. Not only would it be entirely taxing as well as outright dangerous for her to know the evil dwelling within the Fifth Division, but it would also make her stuck in the middle–thanks to Gin, indirectly, involving her.

         Imagine if Rangiku knew Aizen planned to betray Soul Society. Now, Rangiku must somehow run alongside her captain as Toshiro questions who murdered Aizen, slanders and outright fights Gin, and then barges in on the slain Central 46. She’s a great liar, she knows how to manipulate–but the strain of having to pretend to be oblivious, to want to tell others for their own safety, out of duty, would be absolutely unfair to inflict upon her. Not only that, but Rangiku is ranked as a lieutenant, she cannot stand up to a captain no matter her skills and strength. Why would Gin feel compelled to place her within Aizen’s crosshairs via telling her any portion of the truth when she’s so ill-equipped to defend herself against who he’s now essentially spying on to relay that truth to her?

          Why give Aizen access to his own personal ‘weakness’? Gin learned of Kyoka Suigetsu’s weakness when he was still just a boy. He knew, after a few decades, exactly how to bring down Aizen Sosuke and all of his grand power. To relay even a whisper of what he was told in privacy, in genuine trust, by Aizen who has also shown he is capable of spying on others via illusions of invisibility would be to condemn the listener to Aizen’s wrath. It’d get them both killed, and that’s far too high a risk especially since now all Gin needed to do to kill him was achieve a Bankai worthy of slaying another captain. That would take… maybe another few decades–that’s it, then he’d have his ammo. Why destroy his chances by leaking information to the one person he cares for, potentially blow his ‘cover’, get her killed, get himself killed, when he could just play patient and wait?

          There’s a reason that Aizen didn’t realize the depths of Gin’s care for Rangiku—-to hold her as far away from his deeds as possible allowed him to remove her almost ENTIRELY from the line of fire. Aizen never once contemplated using her, like he used so many other loved ones vs each other for his gain, against Gin. Gin was able to lie to Aizen’s face about having killed her and Aizen merely hummed, interest piqued, at the fact that she could have possibly been a friend.

        Gin adopted a persona, that’s true, but the Ichimaru Gin the audience was introduced to in light of Rukia’s arrest and upcoming execution was actually an admitted act to draw suspicion towards him to otherwise distract the Gotei 13 whilst a very alive Aizen operated within the slain Central 46′s headquarters. It’s shown that throughout the ‘Rescue Rukia’ arc, Gin’s actions are conveyed as not normal for him. Rangiku and Izuru knew something was off ( as well as Yamamoto, technically, who called for a captain’s meeting to specifically question why Gin had engaged with and allowed the invaders to survive—-when every captain in the room knew he was more than capable of handling a few kids ) because he was, quite literally, ‘out of character’ to them. Rangiku spends the entire arc distressed, wondering what was going on that he wasn’t telling her.

          The persona we know as the audience became obvious as Gin’s go-to for once he betrayed Soul Society, almost in mirroring parallel to how Aizen dropped his ‘kind’ act once he left the Gotei 13 as well. Only the audience is to believe that Gin had always been disliked, he had always behaved in such an evil, outright cruel manner. With character books out and reflections given in Tite’s own words, Gin was a beloved captain. He was kind to his subordinates and the worst he was known for was his occasional prank. Rukia disliked him for reasons, and the feeling was mutual ( briefly elaborated on in an answer to one of your lovely questions, actually! ) but otherwise Gin’s presence didn’t immediately bring distaste to his coworkers’ mouths. Gin acted the way we know him for when he first met Aizen. It’s safe to say that his persona was created specifically to lure Aizen into trusting him more–to portray himself as the vilest. That is also why, in his character poem, Gin mentions ‘becoming a snake’ or an otherwise monstrous person in order to achieve his murderous plot. To the point of twisting and marring himself past recognizable means for Rangiku, until the words ‘I love you’ became too tainted. It’s safe to say this persona of his was not meant for / was not often displayed for Rangiku in private moments, but that it certainly had its costs that Gin ultimately decided were worth it.

          Gin, in my opinion, must have gone through a brutal cyclone of back-and-forths concerning what to tell Rangiku, what to bite his tongue over, and so on. With time, with age, keeping secrets from her definitely got easier. But that wouldn’t dull the ache of feeling so foreign to the one person that should know everything about him by now; feeling isolated from her, standing right in front of her, most likely made him wish he could tell her everything. However, for the reasons I listed above, he’d always opt out. I think in the span of canon up until my canon-divergent verses, Gin has probably come close to telling Rangiku at least a portion of the truth about what he was doing twice. A burning argument as they were kids, a heartbreaking question of why and the desire to just give in. And then a well-aimed question, a moment of vulnerability, and mayhaps the presence of alcohol—-enough of a close call for Gin to fashion the answer behind a new shiny set of repressing walls.

          Rangiku’s safety and wellbeing, as well as the eventual return of her missing soul piece, would always, ALWAYS outweigh her feelings. Gin wouldn’t find himself too confused over his choice once he remembered that she was much more safe by not knowing. He for sure believed that was the ‘better’ choice, though he never concretely believed specifically that deceiving her was the ‘lesser of two evils’ etc. In the end, Gin weighed that her life was more important than his transparency with her.

          Now that he’s officially promised Rangiku some answers to that burning question of why—-Gin has to figure out how to phrase it. Aizen is locked away, Rangiku isn’t a little girl anymore; it’s no longer extremely dangerous to discuss openly, to be vulnerable, about her ties to the beginning of Aizen’s rise to power. The Hogyoku. Everything. Now it’s simply a matter of how prepared Gin is to navigate that minefield.

[shirtlesssammy]

The Man Who Would Be King: 6x20 Recap

Then:

Cas Baby is just doing the best he can.

Now:

Well, here were are, at the pinnacle of Cas episodes (until season 12 came along and we had a gluttonous feast on our hands.) We open with Cas reflecting to the audience on his time spent observing Earth, and humanity; its successes and failures (dried dung can only be stacked so high after all), and he remembers the apocalypse that never came to be. When two boys, a drunk, and a fallen angel rip up the rules, well, how’s he supposed to know if he made the right choice? Goddamn, this monologue really sets up a beautiful episode.

Beauty Break:

Beauty Break Pt. 2:

After the title card, we find Dean cruising around at night in the Impala. Cas flaps in with a, “Hello Dean.” He wonders how Dean is doing, and Dean asks if there’s any news on Crowley. And despite there being quite a bit of very important news about Crowley, Cas says no. Dean says that he’s on his way to meet Sam, who’s tracking a Djinn in Omaha. Cas regrets his inability to help, but Dean gets it, and adds, “No worries. But, Cas, you'll call, right? If you get into real trouble?” Damn, I’m already starting to tear up here, guys.

Cas flaps away to Crowley’s torture den of torture.

Crowley is busy doing a very thorough autopsy on Eve (Fun fact: I didn’t know that was Eve until I read the transcript just now. I’m a fake fan.) Crowley gets a bit testy when Cas asks about Eve opening the door to Purgatory. Crowley doubts Cas’s loyalty and tells him to stay away from the Winchesters (after some heavily implied innuendo about Cas’s trenchcoat.)

Cas admits to the audience that Crowley is right, he still considers himself the Winchesters’ guardian. <Insert lots of sad imagery from Swan Song here> They taught him to fight, and they won, but at a terrible cost. So, our poor, loyal, misguided angel went back to the pits of Hell and retrieved --most of-- Sam.  

Crowley tells Cas to kill the Winchesters, which Cas declines. Crowley loses his shit over underestimating the Winchesters (and in retrospect of season 12, what a weird, sad full circle to this. He never underestimated them, they came to be allies, and he still died --only because he was helping the Winchesters, not trying to hurt them.) Cas orders Crowley to find Purgatory, and to leave the Winchesters alone again.

At Bobby’s, Sam and Bobby interrogate a demon. Dean walks in and motions to Sam and Bobby to talk in private.

Dean tells the others that Cas popped in on him and he lied about what they were up to, and that they were getting close to Crowley. He adds, with great remorse, “You know, he's our friend...And we are lying to him through our teeth.” Oh, Dean. So loyal, so misguided when you let your heart muddle your instincts. The others are still worried he’s working with Crowley. As they admit their feelings, the camera cuts to Cas watching them, without their knowledge. Agghhh. As Bobby worries that they’re dealing with “Superman who's gone dark side”, Dean projects that Sam is Lois Lane (lol, Dean, it’s season 6, we see through your projection bullshit by now.) (And for the record, lying liar Castiel looks SO REMORSEFUL. I FORGIVE YOU!)

Cas knows Dean’s conflicted, and it’s heartbreaking. Bobby heads back to continue knifing info from the demon. Under duress, the demon admits that he doesn’t deal with Crowley. He deals with a demon called Ellsworth (Oh man, this is too good to not believe this is a coincidence. Jim Beaver will always be Bobby now, but there was a time -for a very long time- that he was Ellsworth. Sigh. #TeamDeadwood)

We then get to meet the demon version of Bobby. He deals with lots of bubbling blood phone calls, and the occasional real phone call, while Yeti demons sully his living area with trussed up victims. To neutralize the chances of the Winchesters getting killed, he smites the demons. He justifies to the audience, “I had no choice. I did it to protect the boys. Or to protect myself. I-I don't know anymore.”

Sam, Dean, and Bobby burst into the demon house, but find the place spotless --too spotless. Cas reflects on his motives. After he “saved” Sam, he went back to heaven (specifically his favorite heaven: an autistic man’s day at a park), only to be confronted about what happened in the apocalypse. The angel, Rachel, insists that God brought Cas back to lead the angels (she’s half right), but Cas counters that God wants the angels to have freedom. He then heads to find Raphael, who tells him that he will bow to him and swear his allegiance. After that, they’ll free Michael and Lucifer from the cage and get this show going again. Cas refuses, and tells Raphael he will stop him. Raphael then blasts him back to his heavenly park, and tells him obey or die.

Back at Crowley’s dispatcher headquarters, the boys and Bobby search for clues. Bobby notes that the place is “Mister Clean clean” and it’s...suspicious. Dean suggests calling Cas, to the eyerolled derision of Sam and Bobby. Fed up with their doubts, Dean lays out his argument: Cas broke ranks and laid down his life for them… Also, this is CAS. (I love that this is Dean’s habitual argument regarding Cas. “It’s CAS”)

Sam relents and prays, then Dean gives it a shot. Cas loiters invisibly in the background, too afraid to show himself. He knows he would buckle under their interrogation. Suddenly demons appear out of nowhere, attacking Dean, Sam, and Bobby. Cas recognizes the attackers as Crowley’s elite squad of killers. He’s faced with a choice: don’t intervene and risk losing the Winchesters or save them and face the consequences with Crowley. Castiel sweeps in and smites the demons swiftly and without mercy (starting with Dean’s demon - just sayin’).

*Fans self*

After the fight, everyone puts themselves to rights. Cas tells them that he’s come to the conclusion that Crowley is alive. Dean smiles in relief and prompts Bobby to apologize for doubting him. They confess to Cas that they were hunting Crowley without him, thinking that he may be involved.

Cas acts astonished and a little abashed at this. “Wonders never cease,” the voiceover intones, “They trusted me again.” And then...Cas earns a new nickname as the most foolish angel of the garrison when he goes on to chuckle, “It is a little absurd though. Superman going to the darkside?” Bobby and Sam exchange significant looks and Dean’s face just falls entirely. Cas just let slip that he was spying on them.

Oh, Dean Bean.

Later, Cas busts through the doors of Crowley’s weird little dissection chamber.

For Science:

Cas is pissed that Crowley tried to kill the Winchesters. Crowley is astonished that Cas could possibly be so blind. Cas, he maintains, wants the Winchesters to believe in the good and righteous Castiel so that he can believe it just a little bit longer. Instead, Cas needs to realize that he is down in the dirt right alongside Crowley. If he’d only take care of those Winchesters...

Cas takes him by the coat and shoves him against the wall so hard he breaks tiles. “If you touch a hair on their heads, I will tear it all down. Our arrangement. Everything.” He flaps out. GOD Cas is so smitey in this episode I love it UNAPOLOGETICALLY.

And we flap back in time to how Cas got into this mess in the first place. After Raphael beat the shit out of him, Cas went to Dean, who was raking leaves outside of Lisa’s house. He arrived invisible at first and as he watched Dean, he found he didn’t have the heart to take him from his well earned rest.

While Cas contemplates his options, Crowley pops in. He’d like to propose a little business arrangement. “It all comes down to the souls in the end,” Crowley says. “I’m talking about Raphael’s head on a pike. I’m talking about happy endings for all of us with all possible entendres intended.” CROWLEY, you absolute delight. Anyway, Crowley begs for just five minutes of Cas’s time. Cas agrees and follows Crowley into Hell, assuming he can outwit that lesser demon any day. After all, Castiel’s “an angel, you ass.”

Crowley leads Cas through the new Hell, an interminable waiting room line designed to torture even the most insatiable masochist. Cas insists that his only options with Raphael are to submit or die. “What are you, French?” Crowley asks. There’s another way, sunshine. Crowley 1) proposes that Cas start a civil war in Heaven and 2) that he loan Cas some soul power to get him started. Crowley expertly strokes Cas’s ego while offering him options to join his side. If they can get at Purgatory they can split the souls between them. They just need to figure out how to get there.

“Wouldn’t you rather have me in charge down here?” Crowley asks. “The devil you know?” Cas can save everyone. He can preserve what Dean and Sam worked so hard for. “God chose you to save us,” he says. And Cas buckles at last.

Cas, powered by the power of 50,000 souls and a hefty dose of pride, heads back to Heaven and blasts Raphael into next Tuesday. “There will be no apocalypse,” Cas announces. Angels are either with him or against him.

Back on earth, Sam and Dean hunker down in the demon dispatcher’s headquarters. Dean prays to Cas, asking for a meeting. Cas arrives promptly, convinced he’s in their good graces. They greet him casually, whisky glasses in hand. Sam tells Cas that they have a way to track down Crowley. It’s CAS...dun dun dun. He throws a match down and captures Cas in a ring of holy fire.

They ask him about spying. “You know who spies on people, Cas?” Dean asks insightfully. “Spies.” They interrogate him about the overly polished dispatcher headquarters and Crowley’s mistaken bones. Cas tries to explain his way out of the predicament but then Dean asks him to look him in the eye and tell him he isn’t working with Crowley. Cas can’t do it. He looks away.

(Me: tries not to clutch my heart at this. Fails.)

Cas tries to protest that he did everything he did to protect everyone. He tries to play what he thinks should be his ace up his sleeve. “Sam, I am the one who raised you from perdition.”

Everyone raises their heads at this and Sam sniffs, “No offense, but you did a pretty piss poor job of it. Wait. Did you bring me back soulless on purpose?”

Cas is appalled that Sam would think that and tries to back up, explaining his war against Raphael. “I had no choice.” Dean tells him that he had a choice and made the wrong one. He bites out that he shouldn’t have made another deal with the devil. Cas tries to throw it back on Dean. Maybe he was wrong, but where was Dean this whole time?

“I was there,” Dean tells him. “Where were you?” Cas reluctantly agrees that he should have approached the Winchesters for help but it’s too late now. From the distance, demons swirl towards the building.

“I can’t turn back now,” Cas says frantically. He shouts at them all to run. Dean looks back once, a world of pain in his eyes, and then they’re gone.

Demons smoke into the building and Crowley arrives. Oh lookee at the mess. He snaps his fingers and the holy fire ring whiffs out. “You know what I see here? The new god. The new devil working together.”

Cas has had enough and tells Crowley to GTFO. “You know the difference between you and me?” Crowley asks as a parting shot. “I know what I am. What are you, Castiel? What exactly are you willing to do?” (<-- Ah, the thesis statement.)

Cas flaps into Bobby’s cabin later and Dean wakes to find him standing at the foot of the couch. Cas tries one more time to explain to Dean his mission. “I’m doing this for you, Dean,” Cas insists.

Dean tells him he’s a “friggin’ child” and begs him to stop, merely on the strength of their familial connection. “You gotta trust me, man.”

“Or what,” Cas asks ominously. (Or stabby stabby.) Dean and Cas part without peace between them.

Flash forward again to Cas sitting on the bench finishing his prayer. “That’s everything. I believe that’s what you call a tragedy from the human perspective.” He looks at the sky and begs, one last time, for direction. “Am I on the right path? You have to give me a sign. Give me a sign…” His prayer breaks down, showing how desperate and scared he is. “If you don’t, I’m gonna do...whatever I must.”

Natasha: I’m never ready to have my heart broken by this episode. The framing device of a prayer to God for help is so beautifully done. It creates an air of desperation while threading together what is essentially a long running montage in a cohesive way. It ties Cas to Heaven, to Hell, to Earth, and to Dean. Everything builds to a crescendo and at the end we all sit, stunned, with what we had thought of Castiel in shards around our feet.

You Never Look Like You’re Quoting:

The stench of that Impala’s all over your overcoat, angel.

Sometimes we’re lucky enough to be given a warning.

Am I the only game piece on the board who doesn’t underestimate those denim wrapped nightmares?!

He is the Balky Bartokomous of Heaven.

If I knew then what I know now, I might have said. That’s simple. Freedom is a length of rope. God wants you to hang yourself with it.

Explaining freedom to angels is a bit like teaching poetry to fish.

You never look like you’re joking.

This is not how synergy works.

I wanna help you help me help ourselves.

I’m an angel, you ass. I don’t have a soul to sell.

Lucifer was a petulant child with daddy issues.

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