I do think it's an insult to the masterful episode that is TMWWBK if you come away from it thinking the message is "Dean was a bad friend who wasn't there for Cas and didn't do enough to help him." The entire episode lays out how it was ultimately Cas's hubris and pride and shame of knowing he was betraying his friends that kept him from reaching out to Dean (and Sam and Bobby) repeatedly throughout the season. Bedlund makes it clear that Cas's downfall was of his own making. Sure Cas thought he was doing what he "had" to do, but Cas also doesn't try to do anything else than what he's decided is The Only Plan Of Action. And he purposely does not turn to his friends because of that mix of pride-shame. He thinks he's right and he doesn't want to be stopped. He also knows that what he is doing is wrong. Working with Crowley. Trying to tap purgatory. It's shady and extreme and could totally backfire. And it does.
Anyway when Cas asks ,"Where were you when I needed to hear this" he already knows the answer. We know he knows the answer because we just watched an entire episode of Cas spying on his friends! He knows exactly where his friends were the whole time. HE was there much of the time, watching them. But he chose not to turn to them for help. So when Dean says, "I was there, where were you," it's a sinking feeling for Cas because Dean is right and is calling him out and now that it's said out loud it doesn't feel good. But the whole episode is meant to show us how much Dean was there, waiting for Cas to turn to him (because Dean had no idea where Cas was and couldn't just easily contact him or go find him), and Cas being there, hidden, much of the time, refusing to turn to him. We see Dean spinning excuses for Cas and giving him the benefit of the doubt to Bobby and Sam whose suspicions were growing. Dean doing all this up until Cas's slip-up finally confirmed his worst fears, that Cas was lying to him and going behind their backs. Cas is not "the bad guy" and we can sympathize with him and his plight of course, but ultimately the episode is meant to show his downfall and how he let his hubris get the better of him at the cost of his friendships, primarily his relationship with Dean, who trusted him and fought for him most when others were ready to turn their backs on Cas.
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11 timkon for the devotion ask 😁
11. “I’ve already died once. I would do it a thousand times over again to keep you safe.”
also prompted by @blueforget-me-not, @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write, and @chaoxfix !! (phew this one's popular!)
"Absolutely not."
"Tim—"
Tim whirls on him, glaring. "You," he hisses, jabbing one finger into the S-shield on Kon's chest, "are vulnerable to magic. That thing," and he points at the unnatural, glowing storm raging outside, "is full of insanely powerful magic that could fucking kill you. You're not fucking going."
Kon's jaw is set in that infuriatingly stubborn way of his; the glint in his eyes is nothing short of mulish. "Somebody has to get to the middle to stop that wizard freak. It's only gonna get worse if we don't do anything. And Cassie's already hurt. I'm going."
Not for the first time, Tim curses his own vulnerability. Curses that he's the best pilot among the four of them. Curses that the storm is raging too fiercely to just leave the plane on autopilot. Kon is determined to throw himself into harm's way, and Tim can't even come with him.
He turns back to the controls, glances at the anemometer; the wind is still rising. Ominous purple lightning crackles across the clouds all around them. The image of Kon flying down towards the sorcerer only to get struck from the sky by three hundred million volts of magic flashes through Tim's mind; it takes more self-control than he'd like to admit to not flinch.
"Cassie's hurt because she already tried confronting him directly, alone." At least his voice comes out steady, if a bit taut. "You think it'll go better if you do it instead?"
Another lightning strike shoots by, so close it nearly knocks the plane from the sky. As it is, everything outside goes bright white and the sensors scream; by the time Tim wrests the plane back under control, they've dropped five hundred feet, and he can see the churning, frothy waves down below.
Shit.
"At the very least, I can distract him while you find a place to land safely," Kon says, ever-so-graciously not rising to the bite in Tim's voice. "'Cuz you're talking a big game about me getting killed, but it looks to me like just trying to fly out here is probably gonna get you killed. And I mean, I've already died once. I'd do it a thousand times over again to keep you safe."
It would have been kinder if he just punched Tim in the gut.
For a moment, he can't breathe; panic and hurt and fury and terror all sweep through him in an excruciating rush, and his grip tightens on the throttle so hard it hurts.
"Really?" he hears himself say, lashing out in automatic self-defense. He hates this, hates fighting with Kon, hates what he's about to say because he knows it's cruel, but he can't stop himself in time as the words pour out. "You'd put me through the survivor's guilt and the grief and everything you know I went through once already, a thousand times over? Didn't know you had that kinda viciousness in you." He laughs humorlessly. "Kinda impressed, if I'm being honest."
For a moment, there's nothing but the sounds of beeping sensors and the howling wind. For a moment, Tim is terrified Kon has just vanished, thrown himself into the heart of the storm without another word—
But then warm, strong arms wrap around his shoulders and chest, and Kon's cheek presses against his hair, and Tim can breathe again. Kon is leaning over the back of his chair and just holding him, and Tim can breathe.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it, Rob," Kon murmurs. His breath against Tim's ear sends a shiver down his spine. "But I... you're right. I shouldn't have said... I mean, I... well, we can—we can talk about all that later. Right now, let's just..."
"Sorry." Tim takes one hand from the yoke to lay it over Kon's wrist, just for a moment. His heart is still thundering in his chest, a mirror of the storm outside; he doesn't need to ask to know whether Kon knows. "I didn't mean it. You're not—you're the kindest person I know."
"Tim." Kon holds him a little tighter. "It's okay, dude. Let's just focus on getting outta here for now, yeah?"
Getting out of here. Not confronting the sorcerer. Tim sucks in a breath. They do need to get Cassie some medical help, and some time to strategize can't hurt. Hopefully, he won't grow too powerful before they can double back and take him out.
"Okay," he says, and rubs his thumb over the pulse point in Kon's wrist before reluctantly dropping his hand back to the yoke. The wind outside buffets them relentlessly, despite even the formidable stabilizing tech built into the Batplane; he can't afford to keep his hands off it for too long.
Lightning flashes again. It's a little easier not to flinch.
"I'll run distraction outside," Kon says. "But I promise I won't confront him. Just get you a little breathing room to fly."
Anxiety spikes again in his chest, but Tim nods. He trusts Kon, and Kon is more than capable of playing a distraction while keeping a safe distance. "...Be careful."
Kon somehow, breathtakingly, manages to laugh despite it all. "C'mon, Rob, you know me. When am I not?"
He drops a quick kiss to the top of Tim's head, then vanishes before Tim has the chance to answer. Tim misses his warmth immediately.
It's fine. He'll hold Kon to that promise to talk later. For now, all that's left to do is to make it out of the storm.
50 Prompts About Devotion
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