#castiel really sacrificed everything huh

[riddled-fingers]

you guys dont understand how emo i am abt this,,,,

[deaneverafter]

I can't decide what is the stupidest fandom conspiracy theory floated by the cursed finale. That Sam abandoning Dean, leaving him to die, was some sort of noble action or better yet, sacrifice, that destiel is real, or that Chuck took over poor little devil baby, Jack, and not that Jack never really actually cared about Dean to begin with (something we've seen before, canonically, concretely) 🙄 In the end, Dean really only had himself to depend on, huh. No sense of loyalty, no sense of care, from all the people he sacrificed so much for. They didn't deserve Dean, nor his loyalty or selflessness. Smh, Dean should've just left them all and gone to live his life away from these selfish people.

Edit 1: another stupid conspiracy theory, that Jess just reminded me, one that might take the cake as the most vile, that Dean offed himself on purpose, because he couldn't live without Castiel (because it isn't as if he'd lived through that multiple times and been okay, right? Because it isn't as if dying wouldn't have changed being without Castiel? Never mind that if he really had feelings for Castiel and wanted him back, going to the empty to get him out would be a lot more logical, and Dean is the smartest person in this story), which reminds me of the other one, that Dean offed himself on purpose, because he thought he was holding Sam captive in the hunting life (never mind the fact that they've had this conversation multiple times with Sam telling him he wasn't holding him hostage, never mind that Sam has made his choice several times, never mind that he came back because yellow eyes killed Jessica, not because of anything that Dean did). Never mind most importantly, that Dean wants to live. We've seen that over and over again, him choosing to live, to fight through everything, and in the finale, we actually see him planning a life outside of hunting

[sortasirius]

“Unity” and the Broken Boys

BOY Y’ALL BETTER SIT DOWN BECAUSE THIS IS AS LONG AS CAN BE AND I TOOK OFF WORK TOMORROW SO I’VE GOT TIME

This is....one of the best episodes in the show.  Yeah, in all 325 of them, this is hands down one of the best.

First of all, stan Amara for clear skin.

That silent treatment babey, right out the gate with the Angst.  Tbh Dean deserves it.

“Like I said, killing Amara, Jack dying...that’s the only way.”

“The only way.  Our one shot.  Our Last chance.  You ever get tired of saying stuff like that?”

“We don’t have to like it, alright?  But you and me, we gotta get it done.”

Amara is such a welcome energy in this whole episode.  She’s warm and understanding, whip-smart and probably more powerful than Chuck.  I love her.

Sam is a wonderful, understanding, loving dad.  I love him eternally.  He loves Jack so much, he’s trying so desperately to do what’s right for Jack but also what’s right for the world.  Jack made this choice, but he can’t live with it.  How do you support your child when their life is at stake?

“Come on man.  Blindly following orders, lying to Amara, sending her to her death. Does any of this feel right to you??”

“It doesn’t matter how we feel!  You know what?  Stay.  Stay.  Someone has to be the grown up here.”

“Yeah well someone has to keep fighting for Jack!”

“He knows what he signed up for!”

“Last I checked, we don’t give up on family.”

“Jack’s not family.”

Y’all should have heard the noise I made.  What a fucking line.

“I know how you feel about the kid, I care for him too, I do, but he’s not like you.  He’s not like Cas.  He’s just not.”

“I’m- I’m ready.”

You can see the regret, the heartbreak in Dean’s eyes.  You can see how he wants to take those words back the moment he said them, and for Jack to hear them?  It’s unthinkable.

Sam and Cas I’m just so fucking emo dude.

“Sam, you stayed behind to find another way huh?  I woulda done the same.”

AMARA

First of all, LOVE this structure.

Amara and Chuck have such a fascinating dynamic.  Rob and Emily do a great job (as they have all along) by clearly being siblings but...heightened.  You can just tell they both exude power, and the other is the only one they consider an equal.

“You and Dean had that whole weird...thing.”

“That wasn’t you writing?”

“Ugh, not that part.  Gross.”

What I took away from this is what I’ve suspected all along.  They HAVE free will, just not total free will.  Dean and Amara’s connection wasn’t Chuck, there are parts of the story he didn’t write.  Obviously, this comes into play later. 

I also have a hunch that Chuck doesn’t write romance.  I also think that in particular will come into play.

“Balance.  Something we’ve never tried before.  Creation and destruction, light and dark, brother and sister united again, but on behalf of one world, this world.  True balance.  The way it was always meant to be.  But you can’t.  You only care about your pleasure, your story.  Well, I guess that makes you the villain.”

“Villains get all the best lines.”

We see again and again this season, Chuck is irredeemable.  He doesn’t care about the angels, he doesn’t care about the world, he doesn’t care about anything.  He is a petulant toddler who has broken his toys. And when he realizes he’s trapped, he gets angry, he shouts and screams, completely at odds with Amara’s peace.

“You can’t hold me here forever.”

“I can hold you long enough.”

DEAN

Pain is the name of the game in this section homies.  Because not only are we dealing with Dean’s pain, we’re also dealing with Jack’s.  Jack says he understands why Cas and Sam mean more to Dean, but Dean clearly doesn’t, he, once again, wants to say more, but is stopped, still stopped by his fear: his fear of not beating Chuck.

Alright guys, gals, and non-binary pals.  Let’s talk about Adam and Seraphina.

Adam.  The first man.  And Seraphina.  The angel.

“My old lady.  She’s the only one who could put up with me all these years.”

Yeah okay.  Volume at 100 I get it lmao.

But also: Adam wants God dead not because he and Eve were kicked out of the Garden, but because he went after their sons.  The theme of protecting the children strikes again.

“Killing God is your plan?”

“Yeah, Billie’s been giving us a hand but Sera and me, this is our baby.”

This juxtaposed directly with Dean’s own pain at what he has to do to kill Chuck, to gain his free will: the cost of his child.

Adam’s rib.

And who else might get his ribs hurt, only to be likely healed by an angel?

It’s fine, that’s fine.  I’m fine with that.

“Jack, I don’t know how to explain it but, when I found out about Chuck, it’s like I wasn’t alive.  Not really.  You know like my whole life I’ve never been free, but like really free.  But now?  Now me and Sam, we got a shot at living a life, without all this crap on our backs.  And that’s, that’s because of you.  So, I want to say, I need to say...thank you, Jack.  Thank you.”

I’m gonna have to do a separate post about just Dean in this episode, because there is so fucking much to talk about, but there are a couple of things that I think are important:  Dean realizes how wrong he was, to say what he said.  He knows that it’s not true, this is the way he’s always coped with loss, by pushing the person to be lost away, but for Jack to hear it?  He can’t stand for that.

And:

Dean has finally pushed through the barrier.  He won’t be quiet in the face of his doubts anymore.  This is a breakthrough for him, and, of course, there are more to come.

SAM

Sam and Cas, my chaos duo.

The box, the inscription, the door.

Death’s library, filled with dead reapers.

And there it is.  The Empty.

It tells Sam the plan, the plan for Billie to take God’s place.  For everything to go back to the way it’s “supposed to be.”

This has always been the game, since season 13.  This is the longest of long games.

Sam fuckin Winchester, lying his way out of a confrontation with the Empty like the legend that he is.

He comes back with a new purpose: to stop Billie’s plan, and here’s where we get to the heart of the episode and maybe the heart of the season.

“You hear that?  Dean, brought to the edge of doubt.  His sense of duty, his rage winning out in the end.  And poor Sam, always gotta know everything.  Can’t leave well enough alone.  This is my ending, my real ending.”

The gun comes out, pointed at Sam.

Hmm...what did I say during 15x05?  Oh yeah, this.

And:

Dean would never survive killing Sam, but he’s willing to do anything, anything to earn his freedom.  His ending, where one brother kills the other and then kill himself.

Why, you might ask, did Sam not mention that the angels would be sent back to Heaven, why does he not mention Cas?  I’ll tell you why, or rather, Becky will.

Plus, Dean looks back at Cas IMMEDIATELY when Sam says that, when he mentions Eileen, and THAT’S the first time he hesitates.  He can’t lose Cas.  But at the same time, he’s willing to do anything to have his freedom.

“Sam we don’t have a choice, Jack’s about to blow!”

“We always have a choice!”

You know me, just sitting here thinking about choice, the ability to choose, and how that translates to their free will.

And Sam...I don’t think there will ever be characters I love as much as these.

“I don’t care if Billie gets what she wants!  I don’t man, I’d trade it all, I’d trade em all for Chuck.  In a heartbeat!”

“What about me?”

“You’d trade me?”

“Chuck has to die.  He has to!  Otherwise he’ll keep us tap dancing forever, and I can’t live like that man, I can’t live like that, I won’t!”

“I know you feel like that right now, okay? I know you do, but you gotta trust me.  My entire life, you’ve protected me.  From Dad, from Lucifer, from everything.  I didn’t always like it, you know?  But it’s the one thing in the whole world that I could always count on.  It’s the only thing I’ve ever known that was true.  So please, put the gun away.  Just put it away.  We’ll figure it out, Dean, we’ll find another way, you and me.  We always do.”

Okay I feel like this is going to be one of those scenes that I cry watching for years to come.  Because fuck.  After fifteen years they finally admit that not only did Dean protect Sam from Lucifer, but he protected him from John.  John.  On a par with Lucifer.

Dean and Sam have, for so many years, sacrificed themselves for the other.  Dean’s demon deal, Sam and the trials, every season they have fought to see who can die the quickest for the other.  But this?  This is them fighting to stop the violence, to stop from killing the big bad.  This is them growing, in our eyes, in real time.  Sam has always been able to get through to Dean when no one else had a prayer, but for Dean to listen, for Dean to take his words to heart, to stop the hunt for Sam, for their family, that’s how you know they do have free will.

(Btw Chuck’s eye effect when he dusted Amara was sick as fuck but I’m emo for my boys so.)

Chuck knows it’s a loss, he knows that his story has, once again, been thwarted by the boys making their own choices.  And he’s pissed, but in his anger, we get a bomb dropped on us.

“Spare me your contempt Castiel, the self-hating angel of Thursday.  You know what every other version of you did after “gripping him tight and raising him from perdition”?  They did what they were told.  But not you.  Not the one off the line with a crack in his chassis.”

Are you fucking kidding me?

Also, just worth bringing up this one as well:

Every Castiel pulled Dean out of Hell.  Every one told him the same thing.  And yet, immediately, with this Cas and this Dean, something was different.  Because what has everyone seen about Cas, from the moment he met Dean?

And there’s our endgame people.  Laid out on the line.

But we ain’t done yet, fam.

We’ve talked about the handprint, but you know:

So there you have it, our prep into the “monumental” 15x18.  I have spec on that, of course, but I think a novel is long enough for this.

What to take away: Dean’s rage was always Chuck’s plan, they do have free will, their love for each other, for their family, is what will stop Chuck’s control, Death is about to come back with a vengeance, Cas’ deal is at play, and, most importantly, Castiel and Dean Winchester are a blind spot for Chuck, something he has never, not once, controlled.

[shatteredatthealtarofwinchester]

Umm, wait. It's more a 15x20 rant than an analysis. I'll call it... a ranalysis. 😏

I just saw J*reds last online panel again, where he called the finale "magical full circle storytelling". 15x20 is his "favourite episode ever" because he "is a fan of good storytelling". Uh-huh... Okay. So the following just was built on pure rage. This makes it more of a rant than an analysis. As usual. You guys know me.

Well. There are various possibilities here, Jared. Possibility A is, you are lying, what I do not believe. To lie that obvious you have to be a talented actor, which you are not. Possibility B is, you really think that way. You believe, the finale was "magical full circle storytelling" and you actually loved it, it was indeed your favourite episode. This again brings me to the only conclusion: You have no fucking idea about good storytelling, not even decent storytelling.

Lets look at every single ending, shall we?

Dean. We all know you think Deans death was a "success story." You think that Dean "ultimately gave his life for his number one on planet." I am sitting here, laughing in pain. First of all, let me say that Dean didn't died for Sam, Jared. He didn't took a bullet for Sam or sacrificed himself or whatsoever. He died in the most ridiculous accident I've ever seen. But lets go back to the very start.

Dean’s childhood was highly abusive. Dean was 4 years old when he saw his mother burning alive and learned that monsters are real. In that age he developed PTSD and stopped talking. Dean had a childhood with a father that was an alcoholic and physically and mentally abusive, who had believed that Dean had a “killer instinct". When Dean was about 6 years old, John forced him into a nurturing role for Sam. In the same age Dean was forced into the soldiers role as well when John taught him how to shoot and hunt. Dean had to obey orders without questioning. If he acted “out of line,” (aka something John didn’t like) John chewed him out or left them alone. Dean was trained to be Daddy’s blunt instrument. Dean gave up his own life to keep Sam safe, because he had no other choice. More than a brother Dean had to be a father and a mother to Sam. He suppressed everything, every psychological pain, every emotion, he just lived to protect Sam and to obey as Johns blunt soldier. Short: Dean gave up HIMSELF for Sam and John. Not because Dean wanted to, because he was forced into it! Dean hated himself, he was suicidal. He was convinced he isn’t worthy of anything, especially not being loved. Dean never had a life for his own, never had a choice, never had a chance, never had own original thoughts, never felt safe or loved. He was used to being left. He felt like he was nothing. Worthless. He was dead inside. Broken. You get what I mean, Jared? Since you own a mental health campaign, you should. And guess what Dean did? He kept fighting. Despite everything, he kept fighting. And his mindset slowly changed. He understood that his father was an abusive bastard, he unterstood that he was forced into a life he never wanted. He understood that he is more than that, that he is not like John. He changed. He opened up. He even wanted to retire. And now it gets interesting, because something happened that REALLY is the start of magical full circle storytelling. Something in Deans mind clicked while Cas' confession. His confession was fundamental to Dean to finally accept his own goodness and the value of his life and love, of his identity. It was the moment of breaking free of the structure that had controlled and corrupted him his entire life. It was the only way out of his abusive and traumatizing cage to experience something for his own the very first time. For the first time in his life he had a chance. A choice. The start of his very own life. Free will, baby! Well, no. Because exactly in that moment he stumbled into a nail and died. Do you even realize how dumb this is? Do you even realize what you did? Wait, it gets worse. Yeah, that's possible, even if you dont believe it. In heaven he goes right back to the life he has spent his whole journey learning to free himself from: Left only with the persons he had been forced, time and time again, to sacrifice his identity, goals, and soul for. None of the family, support, or love, nothing he has built or chosen for himself remains. This is not magical full circle storytelling, Jared. This is abysmal pointless butchering. This has NOTHING, not a single percent of magical or good storytelling! YOU call that magical? YOU call that a success? Seriously, what shit are you on? If it would've been full circle storytelling, there is not one single fucking possibility that Dean would've died in the end. I don't know whats going on in your twisted brain, but Deans death never was and never will be a success. To make it magical full circle storytelling, he MUST have been the one who survives and overcomes his trauma (and raise a certain someone from perdition.)

Sam. He's actually the one who kinda got the best ending, huh? I mean, it was fucking horrific, but it was the best if you compare it to the others. When Sam was young, he wanted a normal life far away from hunting, while the truth is, Sam always was more like John than Dean ever will be. Over time his mindset clearly changed. He even said: "When Dean came to get me at school, I told myself, one last job, you know, (...) it was always one more job and then I was gonna go back to law and to my life. I guess, I really understand now that THIS is my life. And I love it." Sam couldn't imagine a normal life anymore. He had the chances for that and he declined. He loved hunting. He loved working and making progress with the BMOL, he very much enjoyed being a MOL and even took the lead often. I can clearly picture Sam as the lead of a rebuilt version of the MOL, that would've made sense. What did Sam get? Right, the ending he didn't wanted anymore, but since we yeet every single development of every single character out of the window, Sam has to be Season 1 Sam again, BUT with a fancy party wig! And there he is! And what a happy life he lives, exactly what he wanted, woohoo! So much joy, so much fun! Oh look, there is BlurryWife™, who Jared made sure is not Eileen, because “Dean wouldn’t want Sam to be with Eileen”. But wait, didn't Dean wanted Sam to be with Eileen? Didn't Dean literally said: "If it was to work, Eileen, you know... She gets it, she gets us, she gets the life. You could do worse. And she could certainly do better, like SO much better. I'm happy for you, Sammy." Yeah, NO. This was just a writing AND acting AND producing mistake and had no matter at all. *cough* So... As you can see, magical storytelling strikes again. I can feel the magic, I can feel the full circle, it's... Amazing...

Castiel. Castiels story was magical, it was mindblowing. I've never in my entire life seen such a meaningful and deep storyline and I mean this. It's fucking massive. There is this blunt angel soldier, one of the post powerful forces, who was built to blindly obey, who lived for aeons of years, who wasn't supposed to feel anything, but he fell for a broken, suicidal, abused human who never felt loved or worthy the very moment he touched him. He fell so hard he rebelled against his own race, against his own family, against everything he had without any safety. He was the ONLY one in Chuck-knows-how-many universes who GREW outside of Chucks CONTROL! His love was so fucking massive, it couldn't be controlled by the God who built every-fucking-thing. Chuck built millions(?) of parallel universes, heaven, hell, life, death, purgatory, the empty, he created every single being, the light, darkness, every single angel, demon, leviathan, monster, animal, plant, sea, blade of grass, every centimeter of mountains, the four seasons, emotions, what the fuck ever. Everything you can ever think of, Chuck created it. And he controlled it. In every single one of his fucking millions of universes. But not Castiel.This is actually not possible. You can't outrun god. You can't outrun the one who creates, writes and controlles everything. But Cas did. Out of love. And not only that, you also imply that what happened between Dean and Cas was the only thing  that was real. Everything else was corrupted, controlled, manipulated, written by Chuck. But what happened between Dean and Cas, he couldn't affect.

Seeing Cas standing there, crying, confessing his love to Dean actually even makes me think that Dean made Cas human. Dean completed Cas. Cas didn't simply said "I love you", he actually said "In all existing universes, in all millions, all aeons of years, you are my only happiness." And Cas completed Dean. He freed Dean. While Dean was used to being left, was used to feeling worthless and unlovable, Cas saw Dean exactly the way he is and chose to stay. With every obstacle, every difficulty he loved him even more and yes, freed him from the abusive structure that had controlled and corrupted him his entire life. Something that no one else could, not his parents, not Amara, not God, not even Sam. Beautiful, isn't it? Unique. Mindblowing. Pure. You enjoyed it? Let's fuck this up in 3...2...1...

Castiels story ended exactly the same way it started. A blunt angel who doesn't care about people and feelings, blindly carrying out instructions from a new God, obeying heaven. No progress. They threw away 12 years of character development and managed to give him the same stupid and senseless ending like they did with Dean. Dean died and Cas... Wasn't there?! WHAT!? There is no single fucking way Cas wouldn't save Dean or wouldn't be there when Dean enters heaven! There. Is. No. Fucking. Way! The way they represented Cas in the end doesn't only imply that Dean isn't important to Cas anymore, he even ended up exactly the same way as if Season 4-15 wouldn't have happened. The ending is exactly the same! He's with God in heaven, supporting him with instructions, not caring about anything else.

Okay, I got it. Summarizing you can say: Jareds "magical full circle storytelling" is to yeet 95% of the past 15 years. No other characters matter, the story itself doesn't matter, every single characters development doesn't matter, it even doesn't matter what the brothers really want, they don't get it anyway.

Okay. But that's not all. As if this wasn't bad enough, they didn't just butchered ... EVERYTHING, they also salted and burnt every single Mantra they ever stood for. I'll make these short, I promise!

Team Free Will. *snort* Dean couldn't escape his fate, he always believed he'll die on a hunt as Daddys blunt instrument and he did. He kept fighting to die exactly the way he felt he was "supposed to". Message? No matter how hard you keep fighting, no matter how long you'll keep it up, you can't escape your fate. Sam couldn't change his fate, he ended how he started. Cas couldn't change his fate, he ended how he started, same for Jack, he ended how he was supposed to. YEET THE FREE WILL, NONE OF THEM CAN CHANGE ANYTHING!

Family don't end with  blood. The biggest lie that has ever been told. Do I even have to explain that? No need, right? Don't make me wanna throw up again, please. We all know that 15x20 blasted "Family don't end with blood" in millions of pieces.

Always keep fighting. THE AUDACITY to praise that while Dean is dying! After everything Dean has dealt with, It makes me wanna scream. Dean kept fighting, he always kept fighting, no matter how hard it was, no matter what forced him to his knees, he stood up again, and if he wasn't able to stand up, he crawled. He kept fighting no matter what, despite everything. His mindset changed. He wanted to live, he wanted to experience things, feelings and people differently or even for the first time. He changed. He wanted to retire, toes in the sand. He knew he earned it. Thats why he kept fighting. For what? To die the very first moment he had a free will. To die the very first moment he had a choice, had a life to build for himself. Always keep fighting, but the moment you come close to what you want, what you fought for, you die. It's been more than 3 months and I am having tears in my eyes while typing this. As for Dean, no matter how hard you fight, no matter how long you fight, you don't reach what you deserve anyway. Give up. As for Sam, AKF leeds to Emptiness. Grief. Psychological Trauma. Mental illness. Absolutely nothing worth fighting for.

I wanna go cry now, bye.

[petrichoravellichor]

Title: A New Kind of Life

Wordcount: ~10k

Rating: T

Summary: What if, when Sam and Dean break into the Empty, Cas isn’t the only one they save? A post-15x19 fix-it fic in which Crowley gets a second shot at the redemption (and family) he deserves.

(Read on Ao3)

********************

Chapter 3 (of 5) (Ch. 1, Ch. 2., Chs. 4 & 5)

"When I suggested you take on the Mark of Cain, I didn't know this was going to happen. Not really. I mean, I might not have told you the entire truth. But I never lied. I never lied, Dean. That's important. It's fundamental. But...there is one story about Cain that I might have...forgotten to tell you. Apparently, he, too, was willing to accept death, rather than becoming the killer the Mark wanted him to be. So he took his own life with the blade. He died. Except, as rumor has it, the Mark never quite let go. You can understand why I never spoke of this. Why set hearts aflutter at mere speculation? It wasn't until you summoned me...no, it wasn't truly until you left that cheese burger uneaten...that I began to let myself believe. Maybe miracles do come true. Listen to me, Dean Winchester: what you're feeling right now—it's not death. It's life—a new kind of life. Open your eyes, Dean. See what I see. Feel what I feel. And let's go take a howl at that moon."

—Crowley to Dean, 09x23 "Do You Believe in Miracles?"

**********

The following evening, there’s a knock on his door. “Crowley? Hey, you in there?”

Crowley looks up from his book. He hasn’t spoken to Dean since that day in the war room, when they’d all returned from the Empty. From a tactical standpoint, it’s been very easy: all Crowley’s had to do is keep largely to his room during the day and save visits to any common spaces for the late night hours. This is the first time in a good long while Dean’s made it a point to seek him out alone, and it’s that more than anything that makes Crowley decide he actually wants to hear what Dean has to say.

Still, no point in making it easy on the bastard. “That depends,” Crowley calls back, aiming for nonchalance. “What have you brought me?”

“Ha ha. Open up, asshole,” says Dean, but the epithet contains about as much malice as the bitch he occasionally lobs at Sam. “We, uh. We need to talk.”

Crowley arches a brow; is it just him, or does Dean sound nervous? He sets his book aside and shifts to sit on the edge of his bed. “It’s open.”

Dean enters, and Crowley sees that he was right: Dean does indeed look nervous, perhaps even guilty. He nods sheepishly in Crowley’s direction as he closes the door behind him.

“Hey,” Dean says, smiling slightly, and the gesture stirs a painful kind of longing in Crowley’s gut. Looking at Dean has always felt to Crowley like reaching for something without knowing what it is he’s grasping at or why, the way a weed arches without thinking towards the sun. It’s maddening in a way Crowley doesn’t have words for, because he knows, in the way he supposes a weed does, that the light isn’t there for his benefit; experience has shown him that much.

And yet, for as much hurt and anger Crowley’s felt because of Dean, he’s also realized that he just...can’t find it in himself to hate Dean, not in any way that lasts. They’ve been through too much together, and maybe none of it mattered to Dean, but it matters to Crowley. He wishes it didn’t, but it does; it always has. And he can no more deny that than he can the sun.

But he can’t very well say all that to Dean, so he pushes his thoughts aside and schools his features into a neutral expression. “Hello, Dean,” he says evenly, rising to stand with his hands in his pockets. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Dean reaches up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. “You, uh. You settling in okay?”

Crowley snorts. “Surely you can do better than that. Go on, let’s have it.” He takes a step towards Dean and flashes a smirk. “I promise I won’t bite unless you ask me to.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well...That’s kinda what I came to talk to you about.” He gestures at the desk next to the bed. “Mind if I have a seat?”

Crowley shrugs. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” Dean walks over to the desk and turns to lean against it, not quite sitting but also not quite standing. Crowley stands next to the bed, waiting.

Eventually, Dean clears his throat. “So, uh. Cas said the two of you talked—”

He expects his words to get a rise out of Dean, to throw him off kilter so their conversation is easier to manage.

“Oh for the love of—Is that what this is about?” Crowley grumbles; just how much of their conversation had Castiel felt the need to share? “Allow me to save you some time, then. You and your long-suffering Angel of Thursday have my blessings, for what they’re worth. Slow clap, mazel tov, etcetera, etcetera. If you like, I could even pull a few strings, see if I can get you Hell as a venue for the wedding.” He smiles darkly, adding, “Although based on recent events, your influence there probably exceeds my own.”

Instead, Dean just raises a brow and says mildly, “So you and Rowena still aren’t talkin’, huh?”

Dean chuckles. “Nah, just figured I’d let you finish first.”

Still aren’t—?! “Really?” Crowley sputters angrily. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Ever the gentleman,” Crowley sneers.

“I try.”

“You really think I didn’t miss you when you were gone?”

“Well, try to get to the bloody point!”

And whatever barb Crowley was about to hurl dies on his tongue. He opens his mouth, then closes it, shifting awkwardly under Dean’s level stare. Eventually Dean sighs; he pushes up off the desk and moves to sit on the edge of the bed, patting the mattress next to him. Crowley sits down without a word.

“Listen,” Dean says, once Crowley is settled, “I don’t know how much Sam told you, but you weren’t the only one we lost that night. Cas died, Lucifer made off with our mom, Kelly didn’t survive the birth, and Jack bolted after I took a shot at him. Which...yeah, in hindsight, I’m not proud of, but that’s where I was at the time.” Dean looks down at his hands. “It wasn’t good. If Sam hadn’t stepped up and been a dad, things with Jack woulda turned out different, and not in a good way. If it’d been up to me, if I’d known how...I probably woulda killed the kid.”

Dean snorts softly. “Yeah, maybe, only you were too busy offing yourself to keep Lucifer locked over in Apocalypse World. Man, you don’t even know how huge that was, do you?” Dean looks up at him then, earnest. “You think everything would be the way it is now if Lucifer had gotten his hands on the kid before we’d figured things out?”

Crowley swallows. He tries to think what he would have done if his and Dean’s places had been reversed, if Dean had died that day instead of him, and comes to only one possible conclusion. “To be perfectly honest,” he says, quietly, “I’d have done the same.”

Crowley can only stare back, stunned. He’d sacrificed himself to thwart Lucifer; that his death had also made it possible for Jack to grow up in the Winchesters’ charge, free of Lucifer’s poisonous early influence, and thereby helped shape who Jack was, who God was...It’s honestly never occurred to him until now.

A protective sort of rage boils up in Crowley on Dean’s behalf. Sam hadn’t gone into all the gory details during his explanation, but Crowley knows enough. “Michael.”

“Anyway,” Dean continues, when Crowley says nothing, “then Jack brought Cas back, which we didn’t even know was possible. Thought maybe it was just a fluke, but we didn’t have time to really think about it because we had to go get our mom back, and then there was all the crap with Lucifer, so we had to deal with that, and then...” Dean trails off, his jaw tight.

Dean inhales steadily, nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that. And then...after…” He sighs. “Jack lost his soul and killed Mom, and I damn near killed him, and then everything with Chuck...Man, it was just non-stop. Then we finally beat Chuck, and with Jack all souped up, we had a way into the Empty, and hell yeah, we were gonna get Cas out, but the plan was always to look for you, too. Oh come on, don’t look at me like that,” Dean says, frowning at Crowley’s shell-shocked expression. “You’re a royal pain in the ass, and there’ve been plenty of times I wanted to stab you in the face, but you think that means I don’t give a damn what happens to you? Like it or not, man, you’re family, and we don’t leave family behind, not when we can help it.”

Crowley studies Dean carefully, looking for the lie...and not finding it. Then, that means...Is he really...?

“Family,” murmurs Crowley, experimentally. “You know, I’ve never had much luck with that word.”

Dean gives him a sad sort of smile. “Yeah, me neither. Not the one I was born to, anyway, 'cept for Sam. The one me and him made, though…” His smile turns genuine. “That one’s pretty damn awesome.”

They sit in silence, neither speaking for several moments; then—

Crowley clears his throat. “Can I ask you something, Dean?”

“Shoot.”

“That first day, after you brought me back, Sam said I should talk to Mother, said she has...regrets.”

Dean regards him thoughtfully. “You thinkin’ about giving her another chance?”

“I honestly don't know what I’m thinking,” Crowley admits. “There’s a lot of bad blood there: hers, mine, both of ours. When I saw her here, in this room, she said she’d missed me, that she loved me, and...”

Crowley feels his throat tighten, and he doesn’t know how to say the rest: that for all he hates himself for it, for all the times it’s blown up in his face, for all the horrible things Rowena has done to him—

“You don’t know if you should believe her,” Dean finishes quietly, “but you want to.”

Crowley sighs. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not,” Dean says firmly. “It’s not stupid to want to be loved, not by family: that’s kinda how it’s supposed to be. The stupid part is that it doesn’t always go that way, and then we gotta deal with the fallout.” Dean hesitates, then adds, “And...and sometimes that means we think we don’t deserve love when we do, and other times, it’s people sayin’ they deserve our love when they don’t.”

Crowley mulls that over. “Does she deserve it, do you think?”

“From you?” Dean shakes his head. “Man, that ain’t for me to say.”

Bollocks, thinks Crowley, barely managing to suppress a groan of frustration; if only there were a way to know which decision was the right one ahead of time...“How did you decide?" he asks after a moment. "With your father, I mean.”

Dean looks taken aback, and Crowley thinks perhaps he shouldn’t have asked; but before he can change the topic, Dean sucks in a breath and says, “Look, my father was an obsessed bastard. He left me and Sam alone for weeks on end, and when he was around, he was more of a drill sergeant than a dad. Some of the shit he pulled...” One of Dean’s hands closes into a fist. “It’s not the kind of stuff you just...forgive.”

Then Dean lets out a slow breath, and the fist relaxes. “Thing is, though, a lot of the crap he put us through, raisin’ us the way he did...He was tryin’ to protect what was left of his family, and...and I get that, you know? I’ve done a lot of really messed up shit for the same reason, for family. Doesn’t mean I forgive him, it’s just...complicated.” Dean sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “Like, really freaking complicated. Honestly, I’m still kinda trying to figure it out. But, yeah...all that to say, I don’t know if Rowena deserves your love or whatever else you wanna give her. She’s done a lot for me and Sam, helped us save our mom and Jack, and then her whole swan dive into Hell and all that, but when it comes to the two of you...That’s something you gotta decide for yourself.”

Crowley studies his hands. His left palm still bears thin scars from that day in the war room, when Sam had told him Rowena had changed and Crowley had gripped his fist tightly enough to draw blood. He still isn’t sure he believes his mother is actually capable of being anything other than what he's always known her as. Maybe she isn't, and if that’s the case, then she doesn’t deserve his love. Crowley can live with that; he has his entire life. If Sam was right, though, if his mother has changed...that’s something Crowley needs to see to believe.

And there it is, Crowley realizes: he needs to see her.

“I think,” he says, after a moment, “that I’ll meet with her and hear what she has to say, and if I don’t like it, I’ll tell her to bugger off, this time for good.”

Dean gives a hum of approval. “Sounds fair to me." He claps Crowley on the knee and stands. "Okay, then, I’m gonna go hit the hay. Lemme know if me or Sam can help with the Rowena thing, okay? You don’t gotta deal with her on your own.”

“I will,” Crowley says; then, as Dean’s about to leave, “and Dean?”

Dean looks back, hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”

And Crowley once again feels something stirring in his gut, but this time, it isn’t longing, but gratitude, gratitude that he has Dean in his life and gratitude that, at the end of the day, everything they’ve been through together, the good and the bad, it matters to Dean, too, and that's important. It's fundamental.

“Thank you,” Crowley says, and means it. “For everything.”

For a moment, Dean regards him in silence; then he smiles. “Yeah. You too.”

He slips out of the room and leaves Crowley alone with his thoughts, which are...actually rather optimistic. For the first time in a long time, Crowley feels alive. It’s a new kind of life, one with family, one where he matters, and Crowley doesn’t know for certain what it’s going to bring, but he knows he wants to see it, experience it, eyes wide open.

[chipper9906]

Hello, Stranger

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 15 EPISODE 18 ‘DESPAIR’ AND SEASON 15 EPISODE 19 ‘INHERIT THE EARTH’

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 6,201

Status: One Shot - Complete

Summary/Preview

The man above him was panting heavily, wheezing for breath through pained grunts, and usually, Dean would find some comfort in knowing he at least got a few good licks in.

Instead, all he could do was drop his head back into the carpet with gritted teeth. Great. He was Dean Winchester; He had taken on monsters that most believed to be fairy tales, he had taken on Lucifer, he had taken on God. Hell, he had even killed Hitler.

And now he was about to be killed by some goddamn junkie that had broken into his apartment.

Fan-friggen-tastic.

* * *

A post episode/ post season fix it fic because my heart hurts and I needed some happiness.

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                                                            * * *

Dean Winchester is a homeowner.

Well, he signed a contract that lets him rent a shitty, musty, one-bedroom apartment that has questionable stains on the carpet and the lingering smell of weed soaked into the walls, but it’s his. It’s also situated between a few bars and a pizza place that serves the best damn meat lover’s pizza he’s ever tasted in his life, so y’know. Silver linings.

The off-yellow, fluorescent light of the fridge hums obnoxiously at him, lighting the two last bottles of beer he has sat snugly in the corner. Dean pulls one out, grumbling to himself as he pats at the chipped kitchen counter for the bottle opener. He flips the cap off with a flick he has done many times, chucking the cap somewhere to the side (he swears he’ll throw them away later) and flopping down onto his couch with a groan.

His phone shrills at him from within his jean’s pocket and Dean throws his head back with an exasperated sigh. This was what he signed up for, after all. He just didn’t know how Bobby did it. The whole ‘normal job whilst also acting as an information source for the hunter network’ crap. If it were up to him, he’d just do the ‘hunter network’ stuff. You know, what actually matters. But he’s too old to be living out of motels which were paid for with fake credit cards and cash from hustling, so he has to do it the legal way. That’s not to say the apartment is a huge step up from the usual dumps he and Sammy used to stay in when on the road, but still. It’s his place.

Relief floods through him when he finally yanks the phone out of his pocket and sees Sam’s name plastered across the screen. Looks like he was free from hunter duties for a while yet.

“Heya Sammy,” Dean greets him the second he has the phone to his ear, his smile practically audible through the phone. “Is this an ‘another apocalypse’ phone call or…?”

“No, you jerk,” Sam chuckles down the phone. “It’s a regular phone call. You know, that thing normal people do when they check up on family?”

Dean nearly snorted into his beer. “Yeah, well, we’re far from normal, Sammy.”

“Funnily enough, I’m aware of that. But this is as close to ‘normal’ as we’re going to get. It’s the best we’re going to get.”

Dean hummed thoughtfully, swallowing down a mouthful of beer. “Yeah? Tell that to the dumbass newbie at work who decided he didn’t need to put the oil cap back on after changing the oil… oil everywhere Sammy. Everywhere. I can hack off vampire heads all day, but dealing with people? It’s a nightmare, Sam.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Sam assured him. “We’ll get used to it. It’s… Dean, you know how nice it is to hear you complain about work? Hearing ‘my co-workers a pain in the ass’ instead of ‘there’s a Were on my tail, bring the silver’ is something I never thought I’d get to experience.”

“Were on my tail? Wow, great pun there Sam…” Dean mumbled into the phone, getting a half-amused half annoyed snort from his brother. “Maybe one day I’ll go full ‘Bobby’. Get a cabin out in the middle of nowhere, open up my own mechanic shop… though, doubt I could go back to the old way of looking up the lore… Hey, they do satellite internet, right?”

Sam had suddenly gone very quiet. Dean raised his eyebrows as he waited for his brother's response, the white-noise from the other end of the line the only reassurance to Dean that the line hadn’t gone dead.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, I think that’s something you could get set up.” Sam finally answered. “But… you know you can do all that without the whole ‘hunting network’ thing, right? That is still an option-,”

“I know, Sam,” Dean cut off his little brother abruptly. “I know that’s an option. And maybe one day I’ll realize just how old and broken down I am and accept that. But-,”

“But you won’t,” Sam sighed subtly.

“Maybe one day,” Dean repeated softly. “I just… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to quit cold turkey, Sam. I just… I need to do something.”

“Have you been on any hunts?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders, forgetting that Sam couldn’t see him. “Eh, a few. No solo hunts, before you panic. There was a hunter going through town, uh, Jason White? Hadn’t heard of him before, but-,” Dean huffed quietly in laughter. “-He sure as hell heard of me. Seems the Winchester name still has its rep around the hunter community.”

“I can never tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“Dude was giddy to work with me, so I’d say it was a good thing.” Dean took another swig of beer. “And that’s when they don’t even know we kicked God’s ass!”

“Jack kicked God’s ass,” Sam corrected him. “We got our asses kicked by God.”

“Yeah, but… we needed to get Chuck to beat us up for the plan to work, so… I think it’s fair to say we brought down God.”

“Depending on who you tell that to, you might end up being flayed rather than hailed as a hero.”

Dean paused with the bottle of beer to his lips. “Point taken… maybe it would be better to keep it to ourselves.”

“Probably,” Sam agreed with a chuckle.

“How ‘bout you, Sammy? How’s college life treating you? Again?”

“It’s…” Sam was about to do the usual ‘everything’s great’ spiel, but something about Dean’s inquiring tone made him pause. “… it’s more difficult than I’d thought. I don’t know, maybe I should have had some kind of buffering time between, try and adjust a little before going back.”

“I can imagine.”

“Back then, I felt like I belonged in college, you know? I felt… on par with everyone around me, but now? I stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Yeah? Well, you are an old man amongst eighteen to twenty-year old’s.”

“Thirty-seven isn’t old, jerk. Plenty of people go back to college when they’re…”

“…older?” Dean finished his sentence with glee.

“Shut up.”

Dean laughed smugly at his brother’s annoyed grumbles, though he quickly pulled himself back together. “Seriously though Sammy, I… I hope you know I’m proud of you for this. I know it’s not exactly what we – what I imagined, but… I’m glad to see you living out the life you set out for yourself. I know I wasn’t supportive of you when you first left for college, and I know it’s gonna be tough for you. But if you can go up against God and win, I’m sure you can pass your bar exam.”

“Thanks, Dean.” Sam’s voice sounded a little choked. “How are you doing, anyway? I didn’t really ask.”

“Living the dream, Sammy. Living the dream.” Dean answered dryly, staring sombrely at the last dregs of beer in the bottle and wondering whether it’s worth grabbing the last bottle from the fridge. Future Dean will hate him if he does…

“Seriously, Dean.” If Sam’s voice was anything to go by, he had the puppy dog eyes on full effect right now. “How are you? You okay? I know it’s been hard since… since…”

Dean swallowed hard, letting his eyes flutter shut and his head lean back against the couch. “No, Sam. I’m pretty damn far from okay. And I’m not sure if I ever will be, but… I’ll learn to cope.”

“Dean, it’s… don’t be afraid to ask for help with this kind of stuff. I know it’s a bit unconventional when it comes to our lives, but-,”

“A bit unconventional?” Dean spluttered. “Sam, how the hell would I go about explaining any of this to a shrink, huh? ‘Hey, I had the literal Death trying to kill me, and one of the few people I love sacrificed himself to save me by telling me he loves me.’ Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go down a-,”

“What did you just say?” Sam interrupted in a quiet, shocked voice. “Dean, you… did Cas say-,”

“I’m not talking about that, Sammy.” Dean’s tone left no room for argument.

“Cas was my friend too you know, Dean,” Sam argued back, his voice understanding but digging too much for Dean’s liking. “I know you don’t like talking about this, but-,”

“No, Sam. I don’t like talking about it.” Dean snapped curtly.

“But-,”

“Cas was my Eileen, Sam.” Dean could hear Sam’s mouth snap close, the stunned silence on the other end of the phone too loud in Dean’s ear. “And I know you sure as hell don’t like talking about her. I had to… Fuck, do you have any idea, Sam? I never let myself think about it, about what Cas was to me. He could be a stubborn bastard and hard to read at times, and this whole damn time, he loved me and… he never told me. All this time he’d been holding that to himself and he just… I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t say anything. He was just gone, and I…”

“You loved him.”

It wasn’t a question. Dean squeezed his eyes shut at Sam’s words. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. And he never got to know. He never heard me say it.”

Dean ran a tense hand through his hair, pulling at the strands with a pained grimace. “I still see him sometimes, Sammy. I feel like I’m going crazy. I’ll see a flash of him in a crowd, see that stupid tax-accountant get up of his out of the corner of my eye, and… I keep telling myself he’s gone, that I need to move on.”

“You will, Dean. Sometimes, after… after Jess, I’d see her, too. Grief does strange things to the mind.”

“Yeah, I know, but… I can’t help but think about when I lost him in purgatory. When I kept seeing him, back then, and… all that time, he was trying to reach out to me.”

“This isn’t like then, Dean.” Sam’s response was like a punch to the chest. “Cas was in Purgatory. When he was trying to contact you, he was back on Earth, right? Cas is… he’s in the Empty. The only being with enough power to get him out was Jack, but-,”

“But Jack’s not gonna be hands-on,” Dean said miserably.

“Right…” Sam replied with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Dean. I wish it was Cas, you know I do, but… he’s gone.”

“I know. I know that, Sammy. I’m not denying he’s gone, I just… I miss him. Guess I always assumed we’d win this thing together, you know? ‘Paradise on Earth’ and all that.”

“I don’t even know what Cas would have done after all this,” Sam said with a mild tone of amusement. “After meeting Cas, it felt like we had to stop one apocalypse after the other.”

“Poor guy never really got to catch a break,” Dean agreed sadly. “Maybe I could have trained him up to be a proper hunter, just like he wanted. Or… maybe he would have flown home.”

“Home?”

“Yeah, y’know; Heaven. If the other winged dicks let him back in, that is.”

“Dean… I don’t think ‘Heaven’ is Cas’ home. At least, it hasn’t been for a while, anyway. If Cas was still here, well… whatever he decided to do next, I can’t imagine anything that didn’t involve being by your side, Dean.”

 * * *

The later into the night it got, the more tempted Dean was to break out the bottle of whisky he has hidden under his cupboard for ‘emergencies only’.

The only saving grace was that Dean had the day off tomorrow, so it’s not like he had to worry about work. Tonight was just going to be… one of those nights. Getting off the phone with Sammy always left him feeling bittersweet; happy to hear his brother’s voice, but the reminder that he was so far away only worsening the dull ache he felt in his chest that he could only fix by drinking until everything went black and numb.

‘THUMP’

Dean was upright from his bed in seconds, fingers curling around the comforting grip of his pistol under the pillow. The sound hadn’t come from his room, rather somewhere else in the apartment – the living room, perhaps? The kitchen? He slowly peeled off the covers, untangling them from his legs and stepping softly onto the dusty carpet, thankful it would mute his footsteps.

Dean cautiously approached his closed bedroom door, placing his ear up to the door and straining his hearing. Nothing. For a moment, he wondered if he had simply imagined the noise, his emotional and exhausted mind caught between sleep and lucidity, conjuring up a sound to distract him.

Maybe, if Dean were a normal person, he’d have waved it off and headed back to bed. Hunter's instincts are hard to shake off though, and not checking the apartment simply wasn’t an option. Sure, he had thrown up all the usual sigils in the apartment the second he had moved in (and likely ruined any chance of getting his deposit back), but you never know.

Dean clasps his free hand around the rounded doorknob, painstakingly turning it until he hears the ‘click’ of the lock, wincing at how loud the usually quiet sound felt in the silence of the room. Dean swings the door open slowly, peering out of the room and into the pitch-blackness of his apartment. He can barely make out the shadowed outline of his furniture, lit up only by the muted lights of passing traffic peeking in through the partly opened blinds.

Dean takes a single step out into the living room when a hand clasps around his shoulder.

He whirls around in an instant, knocking off the assailant’s arm and lifting his pistol to aim. The gun is wrenched out of his hands in an instant, the unexpectedly strong pull nearly sending him tumbling straight into his attacker. Dean hears his gun clatter to the floor, and he throws a punch out of instinct, feeling his knuckles connect with the strangers’ jaw. There’s a pained grunt from the man, definitely a man by his posture and deep, surprised groan of pain, and Dean jabs out his fist again before the man can counter. His fist lands squarely in the man's gut and Dean knows by the sound the man makes that he had just had the wind knocked out of him.

Dean’s next hit isn’t as successful, the man catching Dean’s fist mid-swing and twisting him away, pushing him forward until his chest hits the wall with a resounding ‘thud’. Dean grimaces at the pressure against his back and arm, kicking out a leg backward and feeling it connect with the guy’s knee. It buckles, the pressure on his back gone and Dean takes the advantage, spinning around and shoving the guy hard. He sees the blurry black figure go sprawling backward, slamming into the wall opposite with another pained grunt. Dean scrambles to the floor in search of his gun, blinking rapidly in an attempt to adjust to the darkness of the room. He just about catches a glint of metal, reaching for the gun before it’s gone again, kicked out of sight by his attacker. Dean growls in frustration, jumping to his feet as fast as his body will let him. It seems he isn’t as fast as he once was, the man grabbing him by the arm and slamming him back down to the ground before he can even blink.

His back hits the floor hard, the air leaving his lungs in one giant ‘whoosh’, dust erupting from the unkempt carpet under him. His attacker had clambered over him, the heavy pressure he felt on his wrists surely the man pinning him down, the weight on top of his legs surely that of the stranger. His head was spinning, vision blurry from the dark, and the hit to the back of his head when he landed. The man above him was panting heavily, wheezing for breath through pained grunts, and usually, Dean would find some comfort in knowing he at least got a few good licks in.

Instead, all he could do was drop his head back into the carpet with gritted teeth. Great. He was Dean Winchester; He had taken on monsters that most believed to be fairy tales, he had taken on Lucifer, he had taken on God. Hell, he had even killed Hitler.

And now he was about to be killed by some goddamn junkie that had broken into his apartment. Fan-friggen-tastic.

“Hello, Dean.”

His heart stops. Pauses, for just a moment. When it kicks back into gear, it's with a hard, resounding thump. The voice was gruff, grated, that of a man who had either smoked ten packs of cigarettes a day or had had his vocal cords shredded apart. It was familiar, like coming home, and he wants to scream to the Universe how fucking cruel it is for him to be losing his mind like this, that it was bad enough to be seeing him, but to be hearing him too?

Unless…

He squirms underneath the man’s grip, his shallow, quick intakes of air a sure sign of an approaching panic attack. To Dean’s surprise, the man's grip slackened, and he let Dean scramble up to his feet. Dean stumbled back into the wall as the man smoothly got to his feet, stood there silently watching Dean panic as he slapped his hand against the wall, searching for the light switch. Dean’s hand passes over the smooth cool plastic of the panel, and he smacks down hard on the switch.

The light bursts to life, bathing the room in that sickening bright white. It’s blinding - as if lightning had struck inside his apartment. Dean still has his hand glued to the light switch; his gaze glued to the stranger stood opposite him.

Except, that was no stranger.

There’s a thin trail of blood slipping down a split lip that’s curved up into a subtle smile, blue eyes glossy with unshed tears that are scanning up and down Dean like he can’t quite believe he’s there. His chest is still heaving with exasperated breaths from their scuffle and he’s holding himself awkwardly, one leg taking more of his weight than the other – likely a result of Dean’s attempt at defending himself.

“Cas? Cas, is this… is that really you?” Dean’s voice is breathy, uncertainty laced in every word.

“I spent the whole drive over here thinking about what to say when I saw you,” Castiel said. “And now all I can think is how I should be scolding you for not checking to see if I’m a shifter or a demon first.”

Dean blinked owlishly at Cas, the shock mixed with the adrenaline sending his brain into overdrive. Cas’s shy smile widened briefly for a moment, barely wincing at the sting of his split lip being pulled.

“Actually, I… I was worried for a moment that I had been told the wrong address and had broken into someone else’s residence. But then you were pulling a gun on me and it seemed a bit too late to ask, so I-,”

Dean rushes forward before Cas can finish his sentence, throwing his arms around Cas’s shoulders and burying his head into his neck. He’s fully aware his hands are shaking, scrunching up the back of Castiel’s trench coat so tightly that he can feel some threads popping loose under his fingers. Castiel’s hands were wrapped around his back in return, squeezing Dean close with all his worth, eyes squeezed shut in content with his head nestled next to Dean’s.

When Dean pulls away, it’s to hold Cas at arm’s length and just… look. Take him all in. To savor the warmth of Cas’s under his hands, to drink in the smile he never thought he’d get to see again. Because there’s a part of him that still doesn’t know if this is real, and he wants to take the time to memorize the feel of Castiel in his arms.

“You, uh…” Dean says somewhat awkwardly. “You need a drink?”

 * * *

Dean’s been staring at Cas for way too long then is socially acceptable now.

He’s perched on what Dean knows from experience is an incredibly uncomfortable bar stool at the end of the kitchen counter, the beer Dean had offered him pressed against his split lip from their, um… reunion. Dean tapped his fingers against the cool glass of whisky he held, watching Cas as his eyes scanned curiously around the apartment, and Dean starts to feel guilty for not keeping on top of the cleaning as much as he should. In his defense, he wasn’t exactly expecting company.

“How… how are you here, Cas?”

“I had to hot-wire a car that had been left parked in a desolate road near a field in Illinois. In my defense, it seemed rather neglected, so I doubt it’ll be missed. It was quite difficult finding you actually, your number no longer worked and I had to visit many, many bars to find some hunters who had some knowledge on your whereabouts-,”

“Cas, that’s… that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean how are you here?”

Castiel pulled the bottle away from his lip, placing it down delicately on the countertop. The signature frown was back on his face, along with the cocked head that Dean found much too endearing. “Dean, have you not noticed?”

Dean followed Castiel’s hands to where he had placed a finger on his split lip, wincing when he pressed down a bit too hard.

“What? That I greeted my best friends return from the dead by giving him a beating? Yeah, I kinda noticed.”

Castiel sighed quietly, and Dean grinned at the exasperation. “Have you not noticed that it hasn't healed?”

Dean frowned at him in confusion. “Oh. Why haven’t you…?”

It finally clicked.

Dean sat up straight as it hit him; looking to the split lip, to the bruise that had already begun forming on the edge of Cas’s jaw, to the way he held out his leg at an odd angle like it was bothering him.

Almost as if…

“You’re human?”

“I believe so, yes. My grace was… warped. It’s been through a lot, through the fall… but… I believe it had been different from the very start. Chuck was right, in a way. I was ‘the angel with a crack in his chassis’. Maybe that’s why I was the only one. Out of all the other me’s that exist… I was the angel that began to feel. The angel to fall in love with the righteous man. Angels aren’t supposed to love, you see. Emotions are seen as distractions. Emotions were thought only possible to humans because of one thing.”

“Souls,” Dean answered for him.

Castiel nodded. “Dean, do you understand what the Empty is? What happens to us? It’s… it seems almost peaceful when you think about it. To spent eternity just… sleeping. But we don’t sleep. We dream. We dream of all that we regret. For most angels and demon’s, they have only one regret; their death. What they did wrong to meet their end, tortured endlessly by that mistake. I didn’t dream of my death though, Dean. My death was no mistake. Instead, I dreamt of you. I dreamt of all the times I let you down, of all the things I should have done or said but never did. Angels aren’t supposed to do that, Dean. Those aren’t the regrets soldiers of God are meant to have.

“The Empty isn’t a complicated being. It’s… it’s nothingness, and it wants to exist as nothingness. Billy made it promises she wouldn’t keep, keeping it awake when all it wanted to do was to return to sleep. So when it had dragged us into that place, when I fell into that sleep… perhaps it assumed it would be able to return to sleep. But my dreams, my regrets… they weren’t of the type that any another being in the Empty had. My grace wasn’t settling, it was… it was like an animal in a cage, it was…”

“It was keeping the Empty awake.”

“The Empty wanted me to suffer. But in doing so, it was suffering itself. It didn’t understand why; I didn’t understand why. Why my grace. What made it different? It wasn’t until I had been spat back out here; when the Empty had figured it out before me that I realized. It wasn’t my grace, Dean. It wasn’t grace at all, not anymore. I’m… I’m still not sure how it happened, whether it had been happening for a while, if it was the reason my grace had been diminishing over the years, or… if maybe Jack had a part to play in it, or… or if it was just myself. If me falling for you, to be the first angel to do that… maybe it’s something that could happen to all angels.”

Dean had never been more confused in his life. “What are you talking about, Cas?”

“My grace was changed, Dean. An angel’s grace, it’s a source of power, a piece of God himself; just like a soul. I’m not just an angel who has lost his grace, Dean. My grace is still here, just changed. Adapted. I’m human in every sense of the word.”

Dean knew what Cas was getting at, but he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “…You have a soul?”

“I have a soul,” Castiel confirmed, giving Dean a watery smile. “Humans were not meant to exist in the Empty. It’s not something the Empty has ever had to deal with - emotions. The Empty is a powerful being. It can tear into your mind, to know all that makes you suffer. But a soul? It doesn’t know how to approach that. It doesn’t know how to make it quiet.”

“So… so what does that mean now for you?”

“It means I’m here,” Castiel answered simply, his wandering gaze returning to their surroundings.

Dean smiled, glancing down to the whisky in his hand to avoid seeing Castiel’s judgment of his shitty apartment. “Yeah? And what do you think of… here?”

Castiel hummed thoughtfully, taking his sweet time to look around the abysmal contents of the room which Dean knows full well only takes about ten seconds to take in.

“It’s rather small,” Castiel finally gives his verdict. Dean ducks his head with embarrassed laughter, scratching awkwardly at the back of his head.

“Yeah, well… a high-school dropout who has barely any prior job experience and next to no references doesn’t exactly get many calls for interviews.”

“I see,” Castiel replied with an understanding yet sad smile. “Why did you and Sam leave the bunker?”

“Well, after Sammy decided he wanted to give college another shot, and after you and Jack, it was… the bunker was too empty. Too quiet. Too many memories, I guess. And it’s not like I was gonna be hunting like I used to without Sammy…”

“You’re not hunting?” Castiel asked, surprise clearly written across his features.

“Sometimes,” Dean replied with a shrug. “It’s… Sammy wanted another shot at the normal life, and after everything… that doesn’t even begin to cover what the kid deserves.”

“And what about you?” Castiel said with a questioning frown. “What about what you deserve?”

Dean laughed one humorless chuckle. “Cas, I always expected to go out in a blaze of glory. Maybe with Sammy by my side, maybe not, but-,” Dean paused, turning his eyes down. “I didn’t… I didn’t picture a scenario where I lived and you didn’t. I didn’t know what life was going to be like after that, after you… I didn’t think it was a pain I’d have to live with, you know?”

Cas’s calloused hand rests over Dean’s, thumb gently sweeping over his wrist. There’s a sadness and regret to Cas’s gaze, but a comforting smile curled onto his lips. “When I took that deal… a part of me never expected for it to be claimed. I thought the Empty had made some colossal mistake on its part, because… I couldn’t envision a scenario where I’d be happy. A scenario where we beat God and we made it out alive. But then I wondered… I wondered how much the Empty knew of me. It had tortured me with it once, with what I feared and… of who I loved. And Dean, it was almost funny when I realized, when I assumed the Empty had surely made that mistake. It knew what I wanted most, and yet, it was something I could never have.”

“What you wanted?”

Cas’s smile turned sad. “You, Dean Winchester. I wanted to know the touch of your lips, of the feel of your skin under my hands… I wanted to know what it would be like to wake up next to you, to be something that brought you some sense of happiness… I wanted to know what it was like to be seen as something more than family, a friend, a brother… I wanted what angels aren’t supposed to want. I wanted your love, Dean Winchester.”

“…Cas-”

“But there was a simplicity to it.” Cas continued before Dean could form the words he wanted to say. “I couldn’t get that happiness because… because I wouldn’t let myself feel it. It was easier to just push it down, to pretend as if this hadn’t been something eating at me ever since I had rebelled. And to just… to just say it. In letting myself feel it, in telling you, in telling myself… that was my own form of happiness. It wasn’t in knowing you felt the same way, it wasn’t that I needed you to say it back… I said it because I needed you to know.”

How did Cas do this? Every time he thought he knew what to say, Cas found a way to rip the words right of his mouth. Dean was thrown through a loop again, his brain brought to a standstill. None of it made sense in his mind. The thought that he was Cas’s happiness, that he had somehow made an angel of the lord love, it was just… why him?

“In a way, the Empty lost,” Cas told him. “It wanted me to suffer. It was cruel, yes, but genius on its part, I must admit. To only take me once I had found happiness on Earth, but… I didn’t suffer as it took me, Dean. To die, knowing you were safe? That I had kept you safe? My mission is and always will be to save Dean Winchester. If my ending was the one where you get to live the life you deserve? Then… that was my happiness.”

Dean huffed, staring down at his whisky, absentmindedly spinning the glass across the counter. “You had found your peace. I get that, Cas, I really do,” Dean stopped spinning the glass, eyes flickering up to meet Cas’s. “But if you think the life I deserve is one that didn’t have you in it, then…”

Dean chuckled dryly, taking a small sip of his drink, welcoming the burning sensation that crawled down his throat.

“Dean, don’t think I wouldn’t have wanted… this,” Castiel insisted, brows furrowing. “I would have been content to carry on the way we are. I would of course wanted to stay with you, and Sam, and Jack, just as we were.”

Dean licks his lips nervously, tasting the lingering leftovers of his whisky. “And what if I’m not content with that?”

Cas frowned at him, a brief look of panic flashing across his face. “I don’t get what you mean?”

Dean laughs. He can’t help it. They’re small hushed snorts of laughter, dropping his chin down into his chest and shaking his head, his shoulders shaking with every chuckle. “Oh, Cas… We’re both idiots, aren’t we? Biggest damn idiots there are.”

Castiel was only getting more and more confused.

“Cas, what the hell did you think that mixtape meant?” Dean asked once he lifted his head back up. “What did you think that prayer back in Purgatory meant, huh? Both times? When I prayed to you every damn night in that hellhole?”

“I… I assumed-,”

“Assumed… yeah, we both kept making assumptions about the other, huh? You know I’m not great with words, Cas. I’m… I speak better with my actions, you know? But this… you… I didn’t know how to handle the way I felt for you. Calling you my brother was easy because that was a love I knew how to process. It was easy. You knew I cared for you, and I thought that was enough.”

“It was enough,” Castiel assured him.

“No, it wasn’t, Cas,” Dean insisted. “I was too much of a coward to tell you the truth.”

“Dean, you don’t have to-,”

Dean grabbed Castiel by the lapels of his trench coat to shut him up, tugging him forward and damn near dragging him over the counter. Castiel had gone wide-eyed, bracing himself by grabbing onto Dean's arms, keeping him suspended over the counter.

“Listen to me,” Dean stresses the words, keeping his eyes locked with Cas. “You’re not just my best friend. You’re not just my brother. You’re all that and more. You’re not just what I want, you’re all that I need. And I’m telling you this now because I should have told you all those years ago. I should have told you when you told me. I love you, too. You got that? I love you.”

And then Dean kisses the shocked look right off of Cas’s face, just to drive the point home.

It’s far from the best kiss Dean’s ever had. The taste of Castiel’s blood is metallic and tangy under his lips, and he went into the kiss a bit too rushed and hard. There’s definitely a clash of teeth at first, and a kiss was apparently the last thing Cas was expecting as his lips remained frozen in disbelief for some good few seconds. And yet, it was perfect.

Because it was Cas.

It’s not until Dean’s hands frame Cas’s face that he gets a response. His lips move under Dean’s, chapped yet addictingly soft. Dean’s thumb brushes down Cas’s cheek, the burn of stubble against his skin something new, but a reminder that this was Cas. It was Cas’s lips on his. It was Cas’s hands brushing through the short strands of hair at the back of his neck.  It was Cas pressing his body into him, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle that never thought the other piece would fit.

When they break away, it’s with a surprised “Oh,” from Cas that has Dean shaking quietly with repressed laughter, his forehead pressed against Cas with matching smiles on both men's faces.

“Like I said-,” Dean said softly. “-Idiots. Both of us.”

“I prefer the term ‘fools in love’,” Cas said with a grin. “Still idiots, but we have an excuse.”

“Yeah... yeah, I like the sound of that.” Dean agreed, returning Cas's gentle smile. “So, back on Earth, grace gone – or, changed into a soul. What’s the plan now?”

“Just... live life, I suppose. Experience humanity, of all there is to offer. Grow old...”

“Hmmm,’ Dean hummed in content. “Can you perhaps picture a little cozy cabin out in the woods? Maybe a yappy dog that won’t shut up and is constantly shedding all over the damn place, but you love anyway?”

“I think I could get on board with that... so long as there’s a cat running around that’ll provide the dog with some company,” Cas paused, squinting suspiciously at Dean. “Is there already a dog?”

“Apartment has a ‘no pets' rule. Miracle’s shacked up with Sammy for the time being, keeping the kid sane through exams.”

“...Miracle?”

“Yeah. Y'know, coz she was a miracle.” Dean swallowed nervously, struggling to get the next words out. “And... in this vision of the future... maybe you see yourself growing older with a grizzled, greying green-eyed hunter?”

“...Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“If you really have to ask that question, then I’m afraid I’m going to use to demote you back to ‘idiot'.”

“Wow,” Dean blanched. “Having a soul has made you a sassy dick.”

“You say that like you don’t love it.”

“I deal with it, but only because I love you. There’s a difference.”

Dean’s word elicited a beaming smile from Cas, that toothy smile he so rarely sees from Cas that he knows he’s going to be spending the rest of his life trying to see as often as possible. And really, what else can he do but smile back, just two idiots smiling at each other in a cramped, barely lit kitchen?

“I never thought I’d hear you say it…” Castiel admitted quietly.

“Well, be prepared to hear it until you get sick of it, coz I’ve got a lot of times I should have said it to make up for.”

[anathewierdo]

Show, Don’t Tell

A Supernatural Fix-It fic.

Pairing: I tried to at least hint at Destiel. Also Sam x Eileen because I can and it’s been fifteen years since Jess died so sue me if I don’t want Sam paired off with a blurry wife.

Word count: 6560

Because one of the most important rules of storytelling is to show, not just tell. 

So this is basically 15x20 but with family.

Better late than never, right? Sorry it took me so long to post this. I hope you guys like it :)

Like, reblog and comment if you want. I found this was very therapeutic for me. I hope it gives some comfort to y’all.

Dean reaches to the nightstand lazily, snoozing his alarm. Like the day before, and the day before that and the day before that, he stares at the ceiling for a moment. 

It still feels so surreal. 

He’s free. 

He’s free. And so is Sammy. And so is everybody. They did it. 

His chest still aches when he remembers everything they lost along the way.

With a small shake of his head and a plastered on smile, he sits up. A bark shakes the remaining sleepiness out of his system and he opens his arms in invitation. His smile grows genuine at the feel of Miracle. He balances them a bit, letting out a rough “good morning” at his canine friend.

He’s tasted victory before. In the form of Cas coming back from the Empty back when Jack first came to their lives. He tasted victory briefly every time he kept Sammy safe. He tasted victory in small amounts with friends and family and whenever a hunt was well done. 

The victory that came from defeating Chuck was lacking, though. 

He pushes that emptiness aside. 

Everybody who could, had come back with the snap of Jack’s fingers. And that’s a whole lot better than none of them come back at all.

So he squishes Miracle once more. He can’t change anything anymore and that’s just how it is. At least he’s not alone. 

He gets up, puts over his dead guy robe and whistles so Miracle will follow. 

The smell of eggs and bacon is nice. The laughter that comes from the kitchen is even better.

Sam and Eileen are standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the stove. Eileen, like Dean, is still in her pajamas while wearing Sam’s robe. Sammy’s wearing a gray shirt and black sweatpants. He’s back from his morning run.

At the sound of Dean walking in, Sam turns around; Eileen follows suit at seeing Sam’s actions and waves hello at Dean. 

Breakfast is a happy, relaxed affair. Dean can’t keep himself from smiling proudly at the two nerds across the table. They’d grown inseparable as soon as they’d found each other again.

He has dish duty and of course he smuggles Miracle all the scraps even after serving him his actual breakfast. After that, he gets dressed (totally cleans up his room… not) and hits the library. Miracles sits by his side as Dean pets him and scrolls through the net, jumping between job hunting and searching for actual hunts. He barely notices Sam sitting in front of him when a particular article catches his eye.

“Dean?”

“Huh?”

Sam gives him a questioning look. “Did you find anything?”

Dean looks back at the screen. For a moment, he wants to say no, forget about the article and move on looking for a job. But no, he’s still a hunter. The Big Bad may be gone, but the Winchester brothers’ job isn’t… Also, he may have seen another article from the same town with something interesting, and he could use a distraction.

“Yeah, I think I found something.”

Not even an hour later, they’re saying goodbye to Eileen and Miracle, promising to be back home in a few days time. 

=================

Dean is positively giddy by the time they roll into town. He had to convince Sam to do this, arguing how they got time before they would crash the crime scene for clues and eventually, he finally got the okay (not that it would’ve made any difference). He parks Baby right before the pie festival and stares in awe as he gets out of the Impala. 

Sam stands right beside him, taking in his reaction. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“This is my destiny,” Dean proclaims, watching all these people walk around eating apple, cherry, coconut, pecan– oh god they have fried pie. Sin or not, distraction achieved. “It’s just so beautiful.”

“Are you crying?”

“No. Yo– You’re crying.”

Sam scoffs, chuckling. “Uh-huh.”

“I’m gonna get some pie.”

“Right,” Sam nods, amused.

It just feels so good to say it. He’s already walking towards the festival with a big smile on his face. “I’m gonna get me some damn pie.”

And with that, Dean tours. He forms in line to the pie truck, ordering one piece of each flavor, then goes around with this big white box asking for a piece of each pie in the festival. 

He finds Sam again a few minutes later, sitting by himself on a bench and looking towards a family with longing. Dean doesn’t doubt it: he’s daydreaming about him and Eileen having that someday.

“Found ya,” Dean sits beside him, glaring daggers at a stranger who almost crashed into him and put his pie at risk. “What’s wrong?”

Sam straightens his jacket. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

“No, come on. You got that face–,” he motions with his free hand. “That, that’s Sad Sam Face.”

“I’m not Sad Sam,” he mocks. A couple of seconds go by with Dean still looking at him. Sam sighs. “I’m just– I’m just thinking about Cas, you know? Jack. I wish they could be here.”

Dean feels as if a bucket filled with freezing water had been dumped on him. The ache in his chest comes back with a full force and suddenly he wants to bail and beeline it to the bunker until he can hug Miracle again. For a moment; for a sweet, brief moment, he’d been distracted enough from the loss.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat. “ Yeah, no, I–I think about them too.”

“What happened?” Sam speaks again, carefully. “You said he saved you, yeah, but… what happened?”

“It’s like I told you and the kid, alright?” Dean snaps, then closes his eyes as he relives everything in a hurtful, awfully quick memory. “He summoned the Empty. The Empty got there and took him and Billie and by the time I realized what had happened they were– he was gone. I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t say goodbye. I couldn’t do anything.”

Sam has the decency to not say anything. 

“I told Claire the same thing,” he adds, once he’s calmed down enough. “If we don’t keep living, his sacrifice and Jack’s sacrifice won’t mean anything. Cas saved me, Jack brought everyone back, we saved the world.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I just miss them.”

“Yeah, we all do. I certainly do.”

He’s not in the mood to talk about it anymore. He doesn’t want to remember anymore how he just stood there, paralyzed with fear and shock as Cas sacrificed himself for him for the last time to go to the only place Dean can’t save him from. He’s gone. 

So he stabs his damn pie and takes the first bite, pretending the deliciousness of the dessert is enough to distract him when a full piece gets shoved into his face. Dean licks his lips. Coconut pie. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time,” Sam laughs.

Dean gives him a bitter smile. Deep down, he’s thankful for the sudden distraction.

=======================

They introduce themselves to the policewoman as agents Kripke and Singer from the FBI. The dad’s throat was torn and he’d been stabbed. The mother’s tongue had been ripped out and she was the only one left after the attack. The kids were taken.  

The policewoman had looked at them curiously. “I didn’t know homeland security took home invasion cases.”

“Oh yeah, we’re full service,” Dean answers with a bitter smile.

As they talk more, Sam asks if the mother had been interrogated already, if she had seen something. The policewoman nods, taking out a piece of paper from the folder in her hands and showing Sam and Dean the drawing of a smiling skeleton.

“She drew this when asked if she saw the attackers,” she explains further. 

Dean nods distractively. When the policewoman is called into the house, he turns to Sam.

“I recognize that face.”

“Yeah, me too. Just don’t know from where.” 

They sweep around the house looking for clues and thank the people working the case for their time before asking for the coroner’s report. With the files in hand, they leave the scene and go just out of town so they can regroup.

They’re leaning against opposite sides of the hood of Baby. Dean’s going through dad’s journal while Sam goes through the file they were given and extending a map of the state.

“Found it!” Dean announces. “Dad came across these things in ‘86. He was working a string of kidnappings involving seven children along the 77. Mark these up: Akron, Canton, East Sparta,” he listed. “He didn’t find much, but one of the witnesses described this.”

He turned the journal around, showing Sam a more detailed copy of the face their witness had drawn.

“Alright, so Dad knew about this case–”

“Yeah but he didn’t find much. Guess he thought this was some major crime thing, not a monster.”

“So, the victims–”

“Kids were taken; the adults that weren’t drained had their–”

“Their tongues ripped out.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah… You know what this is? Mimes.”

Sam scoffs. “My money’s on vampires.”

Tongue in cheek, Dean nods, giving it a thought before his face lights up at a breakthrough. “Vamp–mimes! Son of a bitch, man.”

Sam knows this Dean. The Dean that gets silly when he’s down, the one that smiles and attempts to make him laugh so he won’t notice. Dean’s distracting himself; and Sam, just this once, is gonna let him. They both lost Castiel, but Dean’s the one who was closer to the angel. At least this time Dean’s not putting his life at risk.

“Okay, so if the pattern holds, then the next town they’re gonna hit is Canton.”

“And they’re gonna target a family that lives outside of town, isolated and with kids between the ages of five and ten,” Dean supplies.

“Alright,” Sam puts the cap back on his sharpie. “So, who in Canton fits that bill?”

===========================

The Maxwell’s from Canton fit the bill. 

The brothers camped out near their house until nightfall and stayed hidden. The vampires would arrive soon. They had to. The Maxwell’s were the only ones who ticked off all the requirements of the pattern their dad had collected. 

So when a white van pulled up to the main entrance of the house, Sam got his gun ready and Dean pulled his machete out of its case.

Three vampires came out of the van. Two vampires were beheaded not ten minutes later and the third one had been shot in the head with a bullet soaked in dead man’s blood.

They interrogate him, threaten to kill him slowly to get him to confess where’s his nest and if he’s being honest, Dean doesn’t care for a hot minute if the guy talks or not. He gets to decapitate another vamp and whether he’ll do it slowly or quickly doesn’t matter because he will find that fucking nest and he’s gonna bring those kids home so help him Jack. 

The fact that he might have been itching for a hunt while at the same time wanting to stay cooped up in the bunker for the rest of his days is irrelevant.

Vamp-mime #3 ends up talking and, like he promised, Dean makes his demise quick. Sam makes an anonymous call to the Canton police department to report the bodies and they’re out of there, Dean drives as fast as he can through the highway and towards the location of the nest. 

He guesses that if the three goons don’t make it back to the nest soon they’ll either flee or look for their missing members. Both options involve them leaving the nest, so neither option is good. 

His conversation from earlier that day with Sam replays in his memory. Over and over he hears himself saying if we don’t move on, all that sacrifice will have been for nothing. He’s right. He’s right and he should move on. He should leave the past in the past and come to terms with the fact that whatever he wanted to say to Cas won’t ever happen because Cas can’t hear him anymore. He couldn’t say anything and now he’s stuck living in a present that is good but that is incomplete.

Dean’s come to that realization several times in the couple weeks since they defeated Chuck, yet his heart still breaks each and every time. There is so much he wanted to say to Cas and Jack. 

‘You are family, Jack,’ is one of the many things he wants to clear up for the kid. 

He drives and drives until Sam turns him to take a turn and they stop outside of a seemingly black, old-looking barn.

“You think this is the place?” Sam asks as they get out of Baby.

“Well, old and abandoned place in the middle of nowhere that looks like it came out of a bad horror movie…” Dean nods. “Yeah, I think this is it.”

“Great.”

They go to the trunk and it feels… ominous, somehow. On top of everything going on in his head, he’s now remembering his father and that vamp hunt he took them in ‘05. The hunting world changed for him that time, he had a feeling it was about to change again. 

And because he feels like throwing shit at mimes, he takes the throwing stars, giving Sam a cheeky smile. He gets a shake of the head and bitch-face number 10 in response.

“No.”

“We’ve never used them, come on,” Dean pleads. “Just this once.”

“No way.”

“I never get to do anything fun,” he grumbles, scouring through the trunk. “Where’s the rest of the dead man’s blood bullets?”

Sam motions his gun, “we ran out. I have the last few.”

“Seriously?!” 

Sam gives him an apologetic look. “I’ll shoot, you take a machete. And we take these sons of bitches down together, alright?”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean grumbles, pointing the machete at his brother. “But you’re in charge of making more when we get back home.”

“Fine.”

They go in. Dean with his machete, Sam with a gun in his hand and a machete in the other. 

Suddenly, a milk run hunt is not so easy anymore. There are another four vampire mimes, all ready and waiting for them to make the first strike. Sam makes sure to get the kids out of there, telling them to run as fast and as far as they can, that him and his big brother will follow in a bit to help more. 

The fight goes by quick. Sam shoots a vampire, but he loses his gun when another one gets too close and knocks the gun out of his hands. He swings the machete at the attacking vampire and beheads him with a clean cut.

Dean beheads another one, and together they take down a third one. 

They exchange a confident look. Almost there. 

Suddenly, another two vamps pop out from the back entrance of the barn. The Winchester brothers swing, but a hit at the back of his head leaves Sam unconscious momentarily, rendering Dean outmanned and, soon after, defenseless. 

Sam wakes up to Dean pinned down by two vampires, the third one with a raised machete. 

He doesn’t have time to think. He reaches out for his previously discarded machete and beheads her. 

The action gives Dean enough time to stand his ground once more. 

Each brother targets one of the remaining vampires. They’re bruised and battered and Sam’s a little dizzy, but he ain’t gonna let these vamps win. 

So he fights, he stands his ground miraculously and eventually gains enough upper hand to behead his vamp. As the head falls to the ground, there’s a grunt and the sickening sound of flesh being torn apart. 

What Sam expects to see is a vampire hurt, or even better, beheaded.

What he finds is his brother pinned against a wooden column; the vamp pushing him further against it. 

“Dean!” He panics, tackles the vamp to the ground and fights the thing until he can behead it. Which he does with gusto. 

Sam finally lets himself breathe as that last head hits the ground. Feels his wounds and the slight pain caused by the vampires but overall, he’s okay. Barely scratched, taking his standards in consideration. 

“Sammy,” Dean calls softly. 

Sam turns, giving his big brother a tired smile that fades instantly at seeing Dean still pressed against the wooden column, tense, with his face contorted in discomfort and pain.

He’s in front of him in a second. “What’s wrong?”

Dean tilts his head to the side, motioning behind him, “I don– I don’t think I’m going anywhere, Sammy.”

White hot panic begins to course through Sam’s veins as he reaches behind Dean and feels the blood dripping from his back and soaking his clothes. He takes his hand a little bit more up and to the side and suddenly he can feel the protuberance of a rebar sticking out the column… now buried in his brother’s back. 

“No no no, we can fix this,” Sam begins to say frantically. “Lemme just get the first aid kit. I’ll take you out of here. We just gotta get you down. It’ll be okay. We’ll patch you up.”

He tries to push Dean away from the rebar, barely moving him but causing Dean to scream in pain and Sam can’t do anything but freeze.

“Fuck! No, Sammy. No nononononono don’t move me. That–,” Dean coughs. “It feels like this thing is holding me together right now.” Sam steps back, hands hanging at his sides and looking heartbreakingly mad at himself for not being able to get Dean out of this. Dean moves his head slightly, forcing Sam to look him in the eye. “I can feel myself fading, Sammy. I–I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Sam insists. “Let me call for help, let me–”

“Sam– Sam!,” Dean cuts him off. “Sta–Stay with me,” he pleads. “Stay with me, please.”

Dean sees his brother struggle for a moment before he nods faintly. “Okay, yeah.”

“Listen to me,” he begins. “You get out of here and you get those boys someplace safe, okay?”

“No,” Sam shakes his head, motioning between them. “We are going to get them someplace safe.”

“No, Sammy. I– There’s no time. Fuck– this thing– you move me and I’ll die, alright? Just,” Dean coughs again. This time, he decides to ignore Sam’s flinch as he tries to focus, to stay just long enough to say it all. “Just stay with me for now, please.”

“Stop! It’s gonna be okay, just–”

“Sammy I ain’t happy with this, but it’s happening. And we can’t stop it, alright?” He gives his little brother a pained smile. “At least I got to save people and hunt things one last time with my brother. Family business.”

“Dean, stop this.”

“No. There’s some things I wanna say, okay?” He pleads. “There’s some things you need to know.”

A white hot flash of pain courses through him and Dean groans, closing his eyes for a moment. He hears Sam sniffle.

“First,” he opens his eyes and flashes a cocky, loving smile. “We had one hell of a ride, man.”

“I will find a way,” Sam stutters, eyes frantic. “I’ll find a way. You’ll come back.”

“No no no no, no bringing me back, Sammy. That always ends bad and we’ve had enough of Big Bads, ya hear me?” Dean coughs. “No bringing me back. Promise me. Swear it.”

Sam opens his mouth to do just that just to placate his brother, but stops. There’s nothing grand, nothing good, nothing positive about this situation. It sucks. It utterly sucks because Dean is right here and he can’t help, he can’t take him off that rebar he can’t cure him he can’t call Cas–

“I’m so proud of you, Sammy,” Dean continues, promises ignored for now. “Come here,” he keeps coughing. “Remember when I came to get you from Stanford?”

Sam nods, stepping closer to Dean, who places a hand on his shoulder while mumbling ‘let me look at you’.

“I thought you were gonna tell me to get lost o–or–or get dead and– anyways. You– you turned out great, Sammy. I’m so proud of you.”

Dean’s difficulty to speak increases with every passing second and Sam grows frantic at the sheer reality of this. He’s watching his brother die and this time– with Jack saying he wouldn’t be a hands on God, with Cas gone, with the promise he hasn’t made yet…

He won’t be able to bring Dean back. 

Sam’s eyes fill with tears and suddenly it feels like he’s forgetting how to breathe. He can feel himself shaking, frantically shaking his head as the first tears begin to fall.

“I can’t do this alone,” he pleads again.

Dean sounds so confident in his response. “Yes, you can.”

“Yeah, well I don’t want to.”

“You won’t have to,” Dean assures. “You have– You have D–D–Donna a-a-and Claire. Kaia. J-Jody. B-B-Bobby. Eileen. Garth. Our friends. Family. You’re not alone, Sam. I swear.” His voice grows softer the more he speaks. “I’ll be right here,” he pats Sam’s chest. “E-Every step of the way. I promise. We are not- not alone, Sam– Sammy. Not anymore. Not for a while now.”

Sam is biting his lip hard now, trying to breathe normally, trying with all his might to contain his sobs, to keep the tears at bay. Nothing works. The tears still roll down his cheeks. His breath is still raggedy and broken. His body can’t stop shaking and it only gets worse as he sees Dean begin to cry too. 

“Tell me– Tell me you’re gonna be okay,” The oldest Winchester begs. “Tell me it’s gonna be okay, Sammy.”

 The words pierce right through Sam’s soul. He doesn’t think he’s ever done anything quite as hard as looking at his dying brother in the eyes and forcing himself to speak in the most reassuring way possible. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Dean,” his voice cracks and shakes and his face is fucking soaked but he pulls through. “I’m gonna be okay. It’s okay.”

Dean smiles. It’s a pained, wobbly and grateful smile. “I don’t wanna go, Sammy,” he confesses in a desperate whisper as another tear rolls down his face. “I don’t– tell them I said goodbye. That– that I– fuck.”

“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam repeats, more for himself than for his brother this time. Dean’s grip on his shoulder is wavering and so Sam decides to step in closer, hugs Dean as carefully as possible without moving him. “They know. It’s okay. You can go.”

Dean gives a shaky sigh and suddenly his face is resting against Sam’s shoulder.

“Bye, Sammy,” he whispers.

This time, Dean sighs calmly, slowly, as his hand falls from Sam’s shoulder and his body sags between his brother and the column. 

He’s dead.

Whatever self control Sam had left is shattered as he shakily hugs Dean closer to him, burying his face against his now dead brother’s shoulder and sobbing uncontrollably, calling out to him, begging for any kind of miracle to appear and make Dean breathe again.

Nothing changes. 

Not after thirty seconds. Not after a minute. Not after five minutes. 

Still crying and with shaking fingers, Sam pulls his phone out and texts Eileen, sending her their location and asking her to please come help. 

After another couple minutes, Sam takes Dean off the rebar and cries harder at the sound of his flesh tearing a little bit more against the metal as he’s freed from it.. 

It’s with a heavy heart that he realizes he can’t stay here. There are two boys hidden outside that need him. 

He lays Dean down and promises to come back as soon as possible.

=============================

By the time Eileen arrives at the barn, Sam’s taken the boys home.

She finds him inside the old barn, sitting besides Dean’s body, crying, sobbing, shaking. It doesn’t take her long to put the pieces together and for her eyes to fill with tears. She slowly makes her way up to Sam, who startles at the feel of her hand on his back. He stops crying for a second, thinking they might be in danger again, but only cries harder at the sight of Eileen and drags her into his arms, hugging her as tight as he can, desperate for comfort.

“It’s okay, Sam,” she tries to assure him a couple times. It doesn’t work. And it doesn’t feel right to say something like that when her sort of brother-in-law is lying dead beside them. The more she’s there, the heavier the loss feels and soon enough she’s crying just as hard as Sam, aching in pain for the loss of Dean, but more so because of the pain Sam is feeling. Her assurances quickly morph into her trying to say ‘I’m here, Sam’.

Because that she is certain of. She’s not leaving Sam. She’s right here for him.

They get rid of the vamps’ bodies together, neither wanting to be alone for the time being. Once that’s done, they put Dean in the backseat of Baby and they drive home.

==========================

It takes less than a day for everybody to come for the funeral.

Sam and Eileen spend the rest of the night making phone calls to all of their friends and family. Jody, Donna and the girls are the first ones to show up. Claire is clinging to Kaia’s hand tightly as she tries to keep her sobbing under control. 

Every time someone shows up, Sam can’t help but think back at something Dean said that time he was supposed to blow up Amara with the soul bomb. 

‘I want a big funeral, you hear? I’m talking open bar, all you can eat kinda thing.’

By the time the sun begins to set, everyone is there. Sam finds himself thinking that Dean was right: he’s not alone, they do have a family. And their family is mourning his loss, their loss, with him, together. 

Garth brought his family. Bobby and the hunters from Apocalypse World came. Charlie and Stevie came. Someone got a hold of Jesse and Cesar Cuevas and apparently they got on the first plane they could find all the way from Mexico. Even Rowena is summoned, and people are even more surprised when she shows up. Dean’s pyre is surrounded by everybody that ever loved him, everyone they considered family that still lives. 

Miracle and Eileen are by Sam’s side when the pyre begins to burn.

They watch as the body of Dean Winchester burns, but they hold on tight to the fact that they’re not alone. 

Ironically, the bunker is bursting with life after the funeral. 

Everyone was invited to stay the night and said night is drunk away with stories, tears and memories of Dean. The mourn of his loss becomes a celebration of his life. 

A couple of days later, after everyone is gone, Sam roams the bunker’s hallways. Eileen does everything she can, but it’s painfully obvious that staying here is not doing Sam any good. Too many memories, too many years, too many reminders of what’s gone. 

They sit down, they talk, they cry in Dean’s room… and they come to the conclusion that it’s time. 

They arrange things with Bobby and his hunters, giving them the bunker’s keys. They pack up everything they can take and with Miracle following right behind, they say goodbye to their home.

It hurts Sam more than he thought it would, but the bunker’s not being abandoned, it’s being opened for the hunter community to continue to fight the good fight. Except this time, he won’t be in the front lines. 

They take Baby with them. Sam is driving, Eileen is sitting shotgun and Miracle is laying in the backseat. He takes Eileen’s hand in his. She signs ‘I love you’, Sam says it back. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Eileen says. 

“I know,” Sam answers. 

This time, he believes it.

============================

Dean wakes up (and this is a weird thing to say) standing. The sun is shining warm and beautiful on his face and he’s surrounded by a gorgeous mountain view. 

There’s no immediate pain and after a full minute, nobody has come out to mock him and tear the fantasy down, so he assumes he’s not in hell. 

Thank– No. Not Chuck. Thank Jack, he guesses. 

There’s a building to his right and so he walks, curious. When he reaches the front, he’s surprised at the sight of Bobby, their Bobby, sitting on its porch, drinking a beer and smiling warmly at him.

“What memory is this?” He asks, taken aback. He looks up the building and his breath hitches. Harvelle’s. They’re at Harvelle’s. 

Bobby chuckles, “it ain’t, ya idjit.”

“Yeah, it is,” he insists. “Last time I heard, you,” Dean points at Bobby. “were in heaven’s lock-up.”

“Was,” Bobby agrees, getting up. “Not anymore.”

“What happened?”

“That kid of yours happened,” he smiles. “He came in and– he fixed it. Everything. Heaven ain’t just your memories anymore. He– He tore down the walls,” Bobby explains softly, excitedly. “Everyone can go see everyone. See, a few miles from here,” he points over a mountain, “is Rufus’ cabin. He got it with Aretha. Your folks have their own place too, nearby.”

“So everyone–”

“You can see them, visit them,” Bobby clarifies. He opens his arms in invitation. “It’s good to see you, son.”

For the first time since he got here, Dean breaks into a big smile and steps into Bobby’s hug, holding on tightly. “Same goes to you, old man.”

“Shut up,” he jokingly scolds. Bobby pulls away from the hug and motions to the roadhouse’s entrance. “Come on in. There’s some people who’d like to see you.”

They step into the bar and Dean is once again taken aback not only because of the view, but because of all the joyful screaming that fills the air as soon as the door opens.

Everybody’s here.

Charlie, Ash, Jo, Ellen, even his mom… Dean’s smile widens even more at the sight of Kevin, who’s apparently not a condemned soul roaming the Earth anymore. Old friends, recent friends and family him and Sam lost along the way… even Frank is here.

Something is still missing tho, but Dean reminds himself bitterly that there’s nothing he can do about Cas, so he leaves it alone and basks in the sight of his friends.

He hugs everybody. He screams in joy and cries in joy and he’s just so damn happy at the sight of everybody. 

“Jack did all this?!” Dean asks, once he’s gotten his happy tears under control.

“Not on his own,” Ellen answers. “Castiel helped.”

The world freezes for Dean.

“Cas… Cas is dead, Ellen,” the words feel awful to say, but they’re true. He saw it happen. “He- He’s gone.”

“No, idjit,” Bobby intervenes. “Cas helped Jack do this. This,” he motions around them. “Is the heaven we needed. Dean, it’s the heaven you deserve. And they did it.”

“What ‘bout Sam?” he asks, suddenly scared. “When he gets here, he’ll have this, right? He’ll see all of you?”

“He will,” Charlie speaks this time. “This is heaven now. Time works… differently, here. Sam won’t take long. So, what are you gonna do now, Dean?”

Dean nods, because what else can he do? 

Cas is alive. 

Cas probably knows he’s here.

“I gotta go,” he says. “I have an angel to talk to.”

He walks back to the roadhouse’s entrance, but stops before opening the door. Dean takes one more look at everyone, smiling. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Go find your angel, Romeo,” Charlie whoos loudly.

“Shut up, Charlie,” he calls back, stepping out of Harvelle’s.

As if heaven couldn’t be more perfect, Baby’s parked outside. Dean’s smile grows even more at the sight of her. 

He gets inside, turns the keys and closes his eyes, savoring the sound of Baby’s roar. He turns the radio on and Carry On My Wayward Son begins to play.

He doesn’t know where exactly he’s driving, but he knows who he’s looking for. Assumes that heaven will guide him to Cas somehow.

Dean doesn’t know how time in heaven works, but he’s certain he lost track of it. After a while of driving, he stops at the side of the road upon looking at Miracle barking like crazy at the Impala, his tail wagging a mile an hour. 

He continues to drive with Miracle riding shotgun until he arrives at his destination. 

Castiel looks tense, nervous, but he’s still smiling as Dean gets out of Baby.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean can’t find words enough to express how much he’s missed him. 

“You stupid, dumb son of a bitch,” he croaks, then brings Cas in for what must be the biggest hug of his existence. “You were gone too damn long.”

The ache, the pain, that emptiness he’d been feeling ever since Cas had been taken by the empty, disappears. 

He doesn’t let Cas go.

=============================

Sam’s life is good. 

Him and Eileen never get married. Not legally, at least. They’re it for each other, they know it, but Sam is legally dead and still wanted in some states, so they can’t get married in a traditional way. 

Instead, they have a ceremony with their friends and family. Sam’s favorite picture from that day rests over the chimney, where he’s kissing Eileen’s cheek.

They name their first child Dean. Sam had been nervous to suggest it, but Eileen had taken one look after giving birth to their son and simply said, “hi, Dean”. Sam cried like a baby, murmuring sweet nothings into her hair while pressing his hand (that was signing ‘I love you’) to Eileen’s chest. He swore he’d be a better job than John ever did in raising his kids. He keeps that promise.

Dean grows, so does their family, so does the family business. 

Their home is filled with pictures of their friends and family. Some of Sam with Jody and the girls, eating out or hanging out. Some were given to him, showing his brother Dean smiling and being and living with their family. 

Dean Jr and his siblings hear endless stories of their super cool uncle from everybody their whole lives. They all wish they could meet Uncle Dean.

Time goes by, life goes on. Sam never gets used to the giant hole his brother’s absence leaves in his soul.

Him and Eileen grow old together. Of course they teach their kids sign language.The hunting world is somewhat still part of their lives. They used to take on small, very few cases, but little by little they just don’t anymore and one day Sam looks around as he’s doing some research to help a huntress in Minnesota and holy crap, he did get out after all.

Sometimes he visits Baby, even goes for a drive with his kids if he’s in the mood. But mostly he just sits and remembers a life besides his best friend, his brother. He prays he’s okay. He hopes he can hear him. He hopes Dean is proud.

Decades go by, his children grow and he loses a part of himself when Eileen dies. His condition gets worse and with time, he finds he can’t climb the stairs and one day he wakes up and he’s in a hospital bed in his living room. It’s insane. 

He’s old now. 

More time goes by and one day, it just happens. He feels it coming and damn, he got lucky his son Dean had come visit because he did not want to be alone for this. 

He holds his son’s hand, tries to be reassuring and wonders if this is what Dean felt like all those years before at the barn. 

“We’ll be okay, dad,” his kid tells him. “It’s okay.”

Sam smiles at the feel of his boy’s hand in the shape of the ‘I love you’ sign being pressed to his chest. He makes his own hand move to cover his boy’s.

Suddenly his grip fades, his smile fades, his eyes close. He draws his last breath. 

Sam follows his reaper to whatever destination comes next.

===========================

Dean loves having Cas riding shotgun as they drive through heaven. Miracle is sitting in the backseat for most of the drive, sometimes trying to jump over to the front, much to Cas’ amusement and Dean’s panic.

They talked. They keep talking along the road but for the most part, unfinished business aside, Dean is pretty fucking happy. He got Cas back. He knows now Jack is perfectly fine. Cas even told him Jack sometimes drops by to visit. He can’t wait.

They drive and drive and drive and Dean won’t ever get tired of seeing Cas so happy. 

They arrive at a bridge. Dean decides this is a good place to stop. He motions for Cas to follow, gets out and opens the backdoor for Miracle to jump out too. 

“I just felt like taking in the view,” he explains.

Cas only nods and follows him to the edge. Dean wouldn’t be able to tell how long they stood there, leaning against the metal, taking in the view of the mountains and the river running below them.

Suddenly, there’s a change in the air. 

Dean’s face breaks into a huge smile. 

Heaven was perfect, but it just got even better. 

He doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“Heya, Sammy,” he croaks.

Now he turns, and yeah, his little brother is right there, all teary eyed and happy. Looking like not a day had gone by since the last time they saw each other.

“Dean,” Sam greets softly. 

Dean gives a quick look to Cas, who is standing behind and petting Miracle as he smiles at their reunion. Dean looks back at his brother and he can’t contain himself anymore.

He hugs the crap out of Sammy.

Team Free Will is finally back together.

They get back into Baby after admiring the view for a little more and Dean tells Sam everything there is to know about heaven with Cas’ help. 

They make plans to take him to Eileen, to visit everyone. To make their lives up here in heaven. 

Dean has the biggest smile on his face as he looks in the rearview mirror and sees Cas smiling at him just as big in the backseat with Miracle. Sammy’s in his usual place: shotgun.

Heaven was perfect before, Dean thinks. But it’s finally complete now.

THE END

I hope you guys liked it... I know this was certainly therapeutic for me.

Take care of yourselves, keep fighting. And remember that no matter what we were given, family don’t end in blood. 

I’m not tagging anyone because... just because. But I hope that y’all like this :)

[averygroovymutant]

My Way Home is Through You

Summary: Dean doesn't cope well with Castiel's death.

Pairing: Dean x Castiel

Warnings: (Temporary) Main Character Death, Internalized Biphobia, LOTS OF ANGST, Spoilers for up to 15.19 - ignores the dumpster fire that was 15.20

Words: 5,221

(A/N: I wrote this pre-finale because I was terrified about what would happen in it, turns out I was right to be. I'm heartbroken. Supernatural really said 'fuck the LGBTQ community', huh?)

(Read on AO3) “I love you.”

Dean stood, rooted to the spot, in utter shock. Cas loved him? Cas loved him? His head was spinning and, honestly, he had no idea what was going on. His best friend was sobbing in front of him and confessing his love while Death was literally banging on the door. There was too much happening and Dean's brain was not working fast enough to process it. Cas' gaze flickered to something behind Dean and he turned to see a dark, gloopy-looking portal had opened.

On the other side of the room, the clumsy warding Cas had applied finally gave out and the door burst open to reveal Billie standing there, scythe at the ready. Dean looked back to Cas in panic, knowing this would be his last chance to say something, anything, to the angel. “Cas, I–” he began, but Cas stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Goodbye, Dean,” he said, and before Dean knew what was happening, he was thrown to the floor.

In a flash, The Empty was on Cas – and Billie – devouring them in a flurry of darkness, and Dean was left alone, in the silence of the bunker, with nothing left of his best friend but a bloody handprint on his jacket.

The world was ending, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to get up. His world had been ripped from him, and he had never even gotten the chance to tell Cas how much he had meant to him. Ten years Dean had wasted, hiding his feelings for the angel, when he could have just been happy. A sob ripped its way free from his throat, and once they started, Dean found he couldn’t stop them.

 ~

 Dean awoke with a start, shaking and sweaty, with tearstained cheeks. He had not meant to fall asleep; he had not slept more than a handful of hours since they had returned to the bunker, after stripping Chuck of his powers, as every time he allowed himself to drift off he was greeted by the same nightmare. He wondered if he would ever be free of the memory, of the pain and regret he felt at the words he had left unsaid, despite the fact he had nothing to lose by finally speaking them out loud.

“I need a beer,” he muttered to himself.

In the kitchen he found Sam, on a video call to Eileen, which he promptly ended once he looked up and saw the state Dean was in.

They sat in the war room together, Dean on the floor, leant against the wall, and Sam at the table. They drank to their newfound freedom, to the people they had saved; to the friends they had lost along the way. But no matter how much Dean drank, he couldn’t stop thinking about Cas, the look on his face as the Empty swallowed him, the words he had uttered to summon it–

“What really happened, Dean? With Cas?” Sam asked suddenly, shaking Dean from his spiralling thoughts. “Jack told me about the deal; Cas was only supposed to be taken when he felt true happiness. I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Concern was written all over his brother’s features and Dean was just the right mix of tired and drunk and fucking heartbroken that he didn’t even try to stop the words from spilling out of his mouth. “He said he loved me,” he muttered, looking up at Sam with glassy eyes.

“Oh,” was all the younger man said. No hint of confusion, or surprise - or disgust, Dean noted - just understanding.

How can he just accept that? Dean thought, My entire world has been shattered and he says ‘oh’? How does he not have questions?

Dean had questions – so many questions – but there was one that he had been simultaneously desperate and terrified to ask, ever since Cas had said those words; a question to which he was sure that whatever the answer was, it would break him.

“But what did he mean?”

Sam looked at him, one eyebrow raised in confusion, an invitation for Dean to continue.

“Angels… They don’t feel things like humans,” Dean stated, trying to keep his voice even. “So, what did he actually mean when he told me he loved me?”

“It’s been a long time since Cas was like the rest of the angels, Dean,” Sam said patiently, placing his beer down on the table and looking at Dean seriously. “I’m pretty sure he meant exactly what you think he did.”

Perhaps Dean should have expected that to be the answer – Cas had, after all, said that Dean’s love was 'the one thing he knew he could never have’ – but he had been so deeply in denial that Sam’s answer still shocked him. Shocked him, and broke him, like he knew it would; he had let Cas die thinking his love wasn’t returned because, for all these years, he had been scared of what people might think. Scared of disappointing a father he could never gain the approval of anyway. Scared of losing the adoration of his little brother - but the look on Sam’s face made it very clear that he had had nothing to fear.

“You- you knew?” Dean asked, his voice breaking slightly as he held back the tears threatening to fall.

“It was obvious,” Sam replied simply, a sad smile gracing his features, before adding. “You mean to say, you didn’t?”

Dean pressed his palms against his eyes and shook his head, unable to form any more words as sobs wracked his body.

 ~

 Sam looked down at Dean, sprawled on the floor, whisky bottle still in hand. He had sat on the floor most of the night with Dean as he cried, and drank, and cried some more; he had held his brother as he sobbed into Sam’s shoulder, soaking his shirt through with tears. They weren’t usually huggers, but Dean wasn’t usually a crier either – a lot had changed over the last few days.

Sam had watched as the broken man eventually passed out from sheer exhaustion. He hadn’t wanted to move him for fear of waking him up, knowing the state Dean was in he would never sleep by choice, so Sam grabbed some pillows from his room and placed them under Dean’s head.

He thought back to his call with Eileen earlier, when he had explained to her everything that had gone down. He was desperate to see her but he didn’t know what Dean would do if left on his own right now, so had told Eileen he needed to be there for Dean and Eileen had understood, of course. She had assured Sam that she was fine and he could take all the time he needed to look after his brother, and Sam loved her even more for her compassion. In the days that followed, Sam pottered around the bunker attempting to restore some of its power with spells from the books Rowena had left him. He managed to get the monster radar and alarm system back online and was pretty pleased with himself for that.

Dean was like a zombie, only sleeping when he absolutely couldn’t stay awake or when he drank himself unconscious. Sometimes he started crying over the weirdest things, things Sam never would have even related to Cas. Before, Dean would have tried to hide his pain from his brother, considering it a weakness, but it seemed to Sam as though this sadness was so vast he simply didn’t care anymore.

 ~

 Cas did not know how time worked in The Empty, but he thought it had taken Billie a long time to die. The infection seemed to spread through her body far slower in The Empty’s domain than it had when they had both been on Earth; possibly the creature’s punishment for her unforgivable betrayal. Cas had watched, frozen in place, as her body finally gave out and she dropped to the floor, immediately sinking into a pool of darkness, leaving only her scythe behind.

And then The Empty had turned on him. “I’m so happy I will finally be able to go back to sleep,” it told him. It had been wearing Meg’s face previously, but as it spoke, its form quickly shifted to that of the man Cas had given his life for. “But first, I think you deserve a bit of pain,” as it spoke, The Empty twisted Cas’ insides until he was screaming in agony. “Was it worth it?” The Empty snarled through Dean’s face. “Sacrificing yourself for one man who doesn’t even care about you? Giving up a millennia for a human who will be gone in the blink of an eye… Or sooner than that, even. What you did made no difference; you probably bought him a day, at most. He can’t stop God.”

On and on this went, the taunting, the torture, the constant talk of Dean’s death while the creature wore his face. Cas had no idea how long he had been there, it could have been hours, could have been days – time meant nothing in The Empty. The more The Empty talked, the more Cas started to believe what it was saying. He didn’t regret giving up his life for Dean but maybe, maybe if he had found another way to save him from Billie, he could still be there to protect him, keep him safe from Chuck - help him win.

I shouldn’t have left him.

The Empty threw Cas across the endless stretch of nothingness and Cas collided with something solid.

Curious, he thought, Surely I’m the only thing here?

Another wave of intense pain hit him and he clenched his fists, trying his best to contain the screams threatening to burst out of him. In a brief painless moment, while The Empty taunted him more about Dean’s inevitable death, Cas looked at the item he had collided with.

Billie’s scythe. Suddenly, Cas had an idea. A stupid, crazy idea, but what did he have left to lose? Surely he was dead either way? Picking the scythe up, he turned to face The Empty.

“That won’t kill me,” The Empty cackled, flicking its finger and sending a jolt of pain up Cas’ spine.

Cas gripped the scythe tighter as he grit his teeth, riding out the pain.

“I… don’t need… to kill you,” Cas growled, lifting the scythe towards himself.

Realization dawned on the creature’s version of Dean’s face.

“No,” it screeched. “We had a deal!” It dived towards Cas, sending an intense wave of pain through the angel as it did, but it wasn’t enough to stop him.

With all the strength he could muster he cut into his throat and let his grace drain from him.

There was an explosion of light and Cas felt himself being thrown backwards, through some invisible barrier, as if hitting the surface of water. And then, he finally fell asleep.

 ~

 Dean had been dreaming, for the first time in days, of something other than The Empty taking Cas. Barn walls were shaking around him, light bulbs shattering above his head, and a figure approached with the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.

Dean was ripped from his slumber by an alarm blaring throughout the bunker, Cas’ words still playing in his mind. Dean stretched as he stood up from the kitchen chair he had accidentally fallen asleep in; that dream had been the closest he had found to peace since Cas had been taken from him, yet even in the dream he had not been able to shake the sense of loss and regret.

Dean was unsure how long it had been since they had defeated God – it could have been days or weeks – and he hadn’t left the bunker since they’d returned to it. He knew Sam was worried about him; his random meltdowns over the smallest of things were so out of character it was unsurprising, but he simply didn’t know how to be normal after what had happened.

Dean groaned, reaching for the bottle of painkillers sitting on the kitchen counter as the alarm finally stopped and Sam rounded the corner.

“What was that about?” Dean growled, popping a painkiller in his mouth and downing it with a swig of whisky from the near-empty bottle on the table.

Sam shot him a judgmental look, but didn’t comment on it. “Massive energy spike in Illinois, not sure what it could be but I’m heading to check it out,” Sam said breathlessly, and from the panicked look in his eyes Dean could tell this was something big.

“Okay, give me a minute to get ready,” Dean said, attempting a grin. From the look Sam shot him in return, he didn’t get close.

“I didn’t think you’d want to come,” Sam responded, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion and concern. “You haven’t left the bunker in days…”

“Is that all it’s been?” Dean asked quietly. “Seems like an eternity…" He trailed off as his thoughts wandered back to tear-filled blue eyes and heartfelt confessions. He shut his eyes, willing the pain to go away but knowing it wouldn't. "Anyway," he continued as if nothing had happened. "If it’s that big, you’ll need help and it’s probably time for me to get back to what I do best. Killing things.”

Dean knew he was being less than convincing, but he was hoping Sam would just go along with it.

“I thought that wasn’t who you were?” Sam said softly, and Dean held back a sob as he thought of Cas’ words.

You think that hate and anger, that's what drives you – that’s who you are. It's not. And everyone who knows you sees it.

“Let’s just– Can we just get going, please?” Dean begged, and Sam nodded sadly.

“Meet you by the car in ten,” he said.

 ~

 When they reached the location the monster radar had given them, the sun was setting, its golden rays peeking over the horizon as they exited the car and trudged across the field towards the location pinpointed on their GPS. When Dean finally saw where they were heading to, a sense of dread crept over him. He ran ahead slightly, just to make sure this really was what he thought it was.

Straight ahead of them, framed by the setting sun, was a large barn.

“What the hell is this?” Dean growled, angry, but not sure at whom.

“What?” Sam asked, stopping a few meters behind his brother, worried all of a sudden. “Dean, are you okay?”

“This barn!” He shouted as he gestured towards it. “This goddamn barn, Sammy!” He turned on the spot and fixed Sam with a look that made his heart break a little, before falling to his knees.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, running towards the older man and sinking to the ground next to him. “What’s wrong?”

Tears streamed down his brother’s face as he gripped at Sam’s jacket. “It’s the barn, Sammy. It’s the barn!”

“The barn?” Sam questioned, completely and utterly lost.

“It’s where I met Cas, the first time, after he freed me from Hell. This is where we met.”

 Shit, Sam thought, There’s no way that’s a coincidence.

Dean noticed the panic on Sam’s face and tried to calm himself down.

“This is a trap, isn’t it?” He sniffed, rubbing aggressively at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. “It’s gotta be.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, helping Dean back up. “This is definitely not normal.”

 ~

 They entered the barn, slowly, carefully, with their guns drawn and their torches raised. The walls were still covered with the warding Dean and Bobby had painted all those years ago, and there, lying in the center of the devil’s trap they had sprayed on the floor, was a body.

“Is that–?” Sam began, before Dean let out a breathless cry.

“Cas?!”

He rushed towards the lifeless body immediately, ignoring Sam’s shouts for him to wait. Collapsing on the floor next to Cas, Dean cradled the other man in his arms. He looked unharmed apart from some dried blood on his neck, and Dean let out a loud gasp when he realised Cas was breathing, slow and rhythmically.

“Sammy!” Dean tried to shout, but it came out as more of a sob. “He’s alive.”

Sam was still standing by the entrance to the barn, his gun still raised as if he expected an enemy to jump out at any minute which was, of course, a logical assumption.

“Let’s get out of here, Dean,” Sam shouted, worry evident in his voice. “We don’t know who else could be out here, just grab Cas and let’s go.”

Dean gently gathered the angel in his arms and followed Sam out the barn, and back to the Impala. Surprisingly, they saw no-one on their way back to the car, a fact which only caused the boys to grow more suspicious.

“It’s definitely him, right?” Sam asked, as Dean placed Cas in the back seat before throwing Sam his keys.

“I’m as sure as I can be,” Dean replied. “We can do all the normal tests when he’s awake but… I think it’s really him, Sammy. There's just something about him... It... smells like him.”

“Smells like him?” Sam smirked, as Dean got into the back seat and laid Cas’ head gently in his lap.

“Shut up.”

 ~

 A couple of hours into the drive, just about when Dean had started to get really worried about Cas not waking up yet, the other man began to stir.

“Dean?” He said, in a voice even raspier than normal, as he gazed up at Dean in amazement.

“Cas,” Dean choked out, running his hand through the angel’s hair, brushing it from his forehead. “Is it really you?”

“Yes,” Cas replied, a pained expression on his face. “But I–”

“Don’t talk,” Dean said, concern lacing his voice. “It looks like you mighta been injured. We’ll be back at the bunker soon enough and Sam’ll have a look at you.”

Cas looked like he wanted to argue but did as Dean asked and stayed quiet.

When they got back to the bunker, Dean helped Cas to his room and left Sam to do the normal tests, and take a look over him with some of Rowena’s spells. Dean waited in the corridor outside, pacing to start with but after a while he sank to the floor, leaning his head back against the wall.

Cas was alive. He couldn't quite believe this was happening, he had been so sure that this time the angel had been gone for good, but somehow he had managed to pull off one last miracle.

Somehow, he had managed to save Dean one last time.

 ~

 Sam exited Cas’ room about thirty minutes later, a worried look on his face.

“Well?” Dean asked impatiently, jumping up from where he had been sitting on the floor.

“It’s definitely Cas,” Sam told him. “And he’s doing okay... but I think you’d better go talk to him, Dean.”

This did absolutely nothing to ease the knots in Dean’s stomach but he approached the door nonetheless, eager to see for himself that Cas was okay.

When he entered Cas’ room he found the other man sitting up in bed, a white t-shirt on his upper half and blankets pooled around his waist. He looked different without his usual attire, more approachable - more human. There was a small mark on his neck, where the dried blood Dean had seen earlier had clearly been cleaned away from, and a cut on his arm where, Dean assumed, Sam had done the silver test.

“Dean,” Cas said, and he sounded much better than he had when he had last spoken on the drive back to the bunker.

“Cas,” Dean answered shakily, trying to control the mix of emotions that had been building in him ever since he saw Cas’ body lying in that barn. Sam had told Dean he needed to talk to Cas but Cas didn’t seem to be offering up any information as to what they needed to talk about, so Dean took the initiative and asked, “How did you escape?”

Cas’ eyes flitted down to stare at his hands and Dean thought he looked almost ashamed…? He said nothing for several minutes, but Dean waited uncharacteristically patiently.

“Dean,” Cas began eventually. “I know I’ve not been of much use to you recently, since I lost most of my powers–”

“That’s not true, Cas,” Dean immediately interrupted, suddenly feeling sick with guilt about how he had treated Cas over the last few years.

Cas gave him a look and continued. “So it may upset you to know… that I am now human,” Dean looked at Cas, wide-eyed and confused, so Cas elaborated. “The Empty is where angels go when they die,” he explained slowly. “Apart from I wasn’t dead, I had just been taken by The Empty. It wanted to put me into an endless sleep, same as with my deceased brothers and sisters – what I had experienced the last time I died, before Jack woke me up... But Billie’s scythe was there and I thought - it was stupid really – I thought that, as I was technically still alive, if I was no longer an angel The Empty wouldn’t want me… So–”  

“You cut out your grace?” Dean finished, his mouth agape in abject horror as his eyes fixed on the small cut on Cas' neck and he finally put two and two together.

“And The Empty ejected me,” Cas nodded. Dean's heart pounded in his chest as panic and guilt spread through him, he had caused this. “I am sorry, Dean; I didn’t think it through. I was just trying to get back to you all – to help – but now I realise what little help I’ll be. Even now Chuck's gone - even just as a hunter - if I wasn’t of use to you with my significantly reduced powers, what good will I be to you as a human?”

“Is that what you think?” Dean asked fiercely, swallowing down bile as he thought about all the things he had said to Cas to make him feel this way. “Cas, I don’t care. I don’t care whether you have your powers or not. I just care about you. These last few days, I’ve been a mess. I thought you were gone for good and I couldn't cope. Seriously, man, I’m just so, so glad you’re back,” Dean was close to tears at this point so he trailed off, not wanting to start blubbering in front of Cas like he had been in front of Sam the past few days. Cas shot Dean a small smile as Dean gestured awkwardly towards the door, “I’m jus’ gonna… leave you to get some rest for now,” Dean was sure that Cas would need some, and he was hoping that now Cas was back he would finally be able to get some peace himself.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas croaked, as he shut the door gently, and Dean got the impression he was being thanked for more than just leaving Cas to sleep.

 ~

 For days, Dean had been acting weirdly around Castiel; unable to find the courage to mention the words spoken before The Empty had claimed him, waiting for the other man to bring it up first, but knowing he would not. Why would he, when he believed his feelings to be unrequited?

Three days after Cas had returned to the bunker, Sam pulled Dean aside and told him he was finally going to visit Eileen.

“You need to sort this out while I’m gone,” his brother told him quietly, gesturing to where Cas sat across the room, reading one of Rowena’s old books on astral projection.

“Sort what out?” Dean replied, trying to act innocent.

“Don’t pull that shit with me, Dean,” Sam growled, eyes flicking briefly back to Cas to check the other man hadn’t heard him. “I saw how you were after Cas died,” Sam muttered, and Dean felt a jolt of pain go through his heart at Sam’s words – even though Cas was back, it still hurt Dean to think about the time they had spent apart. Sam raised an eyebrow at him, clearly noticing the change in Dean’s demeanour. “There you go,” he said matter-of-factly. “I saw how you reacted to him being gone, and the words he said to you before. Don’t pretend like they weren’t said, just because you’re scared,” Dean opened his mouth to protest but Sam just kept talking. “I know you’re scared, Dean, don’t try to deny it. I know it’s hard to admit what you’re feeling, but you have to know that I will always support you? That I always have?” Dean’s eyes widened at this and Sam’s features softened slightly. “You’re not as subtle as you think, Dean. I’ve known for a while.”

Dean wasn’t sure if Sam was talking about Cas specifically, or if he meant on a wider scale, but he was too overwhelmed to say anything in reply. Overwhelmed with love for his baby brother, overwhelmed that someone he cared about so much accepted him for who he truly was.

“Dean,” Sam continued, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder comfortingly. “You’re my brother, you raised me. I will always look up to you, and love you for who you are. I just want you to be able to accept this part of yourself, because it has never changed how I view you.  None of our friends – our family – will see you any differently for who you love, surely you know that? Me, Jodie, Donna, Eileen – we all just want you to be happy. So please, Dean, just sort this out. I know it’s hard for you, but just let yourself be happy. Let Cas be happy.”

Dean didn’t know what to say, but he knew Sam was right – and deep down he had known Sam would support him, of course he would – but that didn’t make it any less scary. Teary-eyed, he looked at Sam and nodded.

“Thank you, Sammy,” he said shakily as his brother pulled him into a hug. “I’ll do it, I’ll make this right.”

Sam beamed at him as he pulled away.

“I’ll see you day after tomorrow,” he told Dean quietly, before raising his voice to shout a goodbye to Cas.

Cas looked up from his book and waved as Sam exited the bunker, a bright smile on the former angel’s face, and Dean’s heart skipped a beat.

He knew he wanted to see that smile every day for the rest of his life, and he knew how to make that happen.

He just had to be brave.

Let Cas be happy, he told himself.

 ~

 “Cas,” Dean said, sitting down at the table, opposite the man. “I think we need to talk.”

Cas looked up from his book, his eyes wide. “If this is about what I said before I, uh, left–” he began but Dean interrupted him.

“It is,” he stated, placing his hands on his knees under the table, so Cas wouldn't be able to see how much they were shaking. “I need to know – did you mean it? Did you mean it how I think you meant it?”

“You still doubt you deserve love?” Cas questioned in reply, placing his book down on the table and leaning forward in his seat.

“Don’t dodge my question with all your cryptic shit,” Dean snapped, but there was no real heat behind it. “Just tell me if you meant what I thought you meant.”

“You know I did,” he said seriously, looking Dean right in the eye.

“Okay,” Dean said with a deep breath. “I just didn’t know if we were on the same page, y’know, with you being an angel. I didn’t know if it meant something different to you.”

“I’m not an angel anymore, Dean. And I meant it- I still mean it. I love you.”

It was no less overwhelming the second time Cas said it. Dean felt his heartbeat speed up and his palms grow sweaty – was he really going to do this? After years of shame and guilt and fear, was he finally going to let himself be free? Let himself be happy?

Dean slowly stood and made his way around the table so he was standing next to where Castiel sat. Cas looked up at him, confusion gracing his beautiful features before he stood too. It felt as though his bright eyes were boring into Dean's very soul.

Cas was so close, his face just inches away from Dean’s. They had stood this close many times before during the ten years they had known each other, but never before with the knowledge that Dean held now. His eyes flicked down to Cas’ lips and back up again, all it would take would be leaning in just slightly…

“Dean,” Cas murmured, and he was so close Dean could feel Cas' breath against his lips.

“Cas,” Dean breathed out, reaching up to cup the other man’s cheek, “I’ve felt this way for so long, Cas, but I was just so used to hiding it. I was so full of shame - of fear. I buried this feeling so deep that when you told me you loved me I just– I didn’t know how to react. But now I know, Cas. I just want the chance to make you happy," Dean took a deep breath, preparing himself to admit something he had spent years living in fear of. "I hope you can forgive me for everything I've said, everything I've done in the past to make you feel unappreciated. There's a lot I wish I could take back - a lot I should have said instead - but I wanna try my best to make it up to you. I'm sorry I didn't have the courage to say this sooner, Cas... But I love you,” Cas’ eyes widened, as though standing there, mere inches away from Dean, with Dean’s hand pressed to his cheek, he had still not expected to hear him utter those words. “I’m sorry I made you think that my love – that I – was something you couldn’t have, but I want you to know, Cas, I’m yours. If you still want me, I’m yours. Always have been.”

“Dean,” Cas whispered, his hand coming up to cup the back of Dean’s neck gently, tears of happiness glistening in his eyes. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

And with that, at last, Cas pressed his lips to Dean’s, and Dean didn’t feel scared any more.

He was finally happy.

Finally free.

 ~

 From the place where he stood, invisible, in the corner of the room, Jack smiled. He had promised not to meddle in human affairs, and he had kept his word, but he had needed to see this through to the end. Just to make sure that these two people he cared about so much got the happiness they deserved. Now that Cas was human, he and Dean would be able to grow old together, and when they died both their souls would be able to ascend to Jack’s new Heaven, where they could all be together as a family, once again.

***

(A/N Thanks so much for reading, this was my first Spn fic in like five years so I really hope you enjoyed and thought they were in character enough. I know Dean was insanely angsty but I just hated how unbothered he seemed to be by Cas' death. And I don't know if logically Death's scythe should have killed Cas even though he was already in The Empty but I don't really care tbh, my fic makes more sense than those last couple of episodes the CW tried to feed us...)

[allgoodnamesaretaken-soisettled]

Did I just come back to scream into the void here? Yes.

My brain is broken and refused to sleep unless I spit this out. It's bad, but probably not as bad as the finale.

The nightmares started on the first night of their supposed freedom. Not that Dean wasn't all too familiar with nightmares as it was, but something about the black goo taking everything from him over and over again left him sweaty and breathless and sometimes screaming into the void of darkness surrounding his bed.

Some nights Sam would hear an echo of heartbreaking sobs through closed doors. Sometimes only breaking glass and muttered curses. When the nightmares kept his brother roaming empty halls through the night he'd slip out of bed, careful not to jostle Eileen awake, and pretend he just needed some water while he coaxed Dean into useless small talk. 

But Dean loved Sam's Eileen stories. Badass hunting trips and a quick getaway to somewhere sunnier than the bunker. The time she saved his ass from a vampire or when he officially asked her to move in to kick off the beginning of Men of Letters: New and Improved. Even through the exhaustion and the booze and the denial, Dean was happy for Sam. Absolutely thrilled that he picked up the pieces of his life Chuck left scattered all around their feet. And so quickly at that.

"I'm worried about Dean," Sam signs to Eileen during breakfast in the kitchen. He's slow, hands fumbling around, but he says it too. Whatever she can't get out of it she can read off his lips. "He can't live off of cheap liquor and regret forever. It's already been two weeks."

"And if I died right in front of you?" She asks. "Wouldn't you be pretty messed up?"

"Of course," he says too quickly. "We've lost Cas before," he stares into his egg white omelet for a long moment before looking back to Eileen, "but he always comes back. At least he used to."

"You're thinking more than you're saying."

"I just don't understand why Jack-"

"Took off on us like his ass was on fire," Dean interjects from the doorway.

Eileen turns to follow Sam's stunned gaze and finds Dean already looking at her. "Good morning."

"Morning, Eileen. Sam." Dean pours himself a cup of coffee and joins the table, daring Sam to continue. "So, what about Jack?"

Sam is about to say something about breakfast when Dean pulls out a flask and spikes his coffee. "Uh, I wonder what he's up to. Being God and all."

"Nothing. I think he made that pretty damn clear when he vanished into thin air. So why don't you worry more about your new hunters network, and less about whether Heaven really cares about any of our problems." 

"Right," Sam says defeated. "Do you want some bacon or something?"

"No." Dean leaves as abruptly as he entered, robe flowing out behind him.

"He'll pull through," Eileen reassures once shes pretty sure Dean is gone. "He's a Winchester afterall."

Sam manages a small smile at the thought of a Winchester being exceptional at handling emotional baggage.

Dean wakes violently from his slumped position at the library table, goodbye, Dean ringing in his ears. When he focuses his eyes he notices a sticky note on the nearest lamp and goes to retrieve it. His fingers brush just past, and the note flutters onto the tabletop. The letters carved into the wood are a slap in the face all over again as he reads Sam's explanation through blurry eyes. 

Ran to the store. Call if you need anything.

The one thing I want…

He doesn't know how the table ends up on its side or why, and Sam doesn't ask.

It's two in the morning when Sam startles awake. He hears yelling and immediately jumps into action. Only when he nears the site of the chaos, do the words start to sound more like English than a banshee. 

"Jack!" Dean yells at his bedroom ceiling. "Jaaack! Get down here right now and tell me why!"

"Dean," Sam interrupts. "What the hell."

The fight seems to drain from him with Sam breathing down his neck. "He owes us an explanation."

"You don't think I've tried praying to him?" Sam only half asks. "All the time. But he's not listening. And if he is... hes just not coming."

"Hello." The boys spin around to find Jack, hand raised in a casual greeting. "I know you're upset, but-"

"But nothing," Dean spits. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Heaven, mostly. But Hell, too."

"So you've been busy then," Sam says, too relieved to see the kid to be angry.

Dean looks between them, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for an answer to his prayers. He finally opens his mouth to speak, but Jack starts first.

"I can hear you, Dean, all the time. And I've missed you guys. But Heaven had to be repaired, and Rowena and I have sorted out Hell now, too."

"And?" Dean says expectantly.

"And I'm afraid I can't give you what you want," he says carefully. 

"What I want? I want a straight answer out of someone every once in a while. I want-"

"Castiel," Jack says matter of factly.

Sam hides his grin under a fake cough. The last thing he wants is to set Dean off again.

"So you're telling me that even with God power you can't yank an angel out of the empty? What happened to Chuck pulling Lucifer for his last stunt, huh?"

"Cas isn't in the empty," Jack acts surprised they didn't know. Like this isn't news.

"What?" Sam asks for a stunned Dean. "Where the hell is he then?"

"Heaven," Jack answers cheerfully. "He helped me… redecorate. I told him that Dean kept praying for him, but he seems hesitant."

"Why didn't you tell us that you got him out? Why didn't he tell me?" Dean lowers himself to his bed before he collapses.

"I thought you knew," Jack says sadly. "I would never leave Cas. He's my father. And he sacrificed his life for all of us. He deserves to be free."

"What the hell happened that day?" Sam asks.

"Cas's deal with the empty," Jack begins, and Dean doesn't have the heart to stop him, "was that he would be taken only when he experienced a moment of true happiness."

"True happiness? While running for his life with- AH. Oh. His happiness." Sam hears his own laughter before he realizes that its him. "Shit."

"You're gonna do that thing where you just shut the hell up," Dean says. 

"Anyway," Jack presses on, not catching the lack of need for detail, "Cas told Dean that he loves him. And that he couldn't have the one thing he wanted. Then the empty took him. But we patched that all up now."

"I see," Sam says, still grinning. "Dude, hes embarrassed. You gotta tell him."

"Tell him what?" Dean asks.

"That you love him," Jack answers.

"I don't- I can't just- what the hell is happening here?" 

"Well, Jack, we should go catch up before you take off."

"Okay. Dean-"

"Let's leave Dean for now. I think he has a few things to get off his chest."

"Oh. Right." Jack follows Sam out of Dean's room and gently shuts the door behind him.

"Cas," Dean squeezes his eyes shut and ignores the tears sliding down his cheeks, "you got your ears on?"

"Hello, Dean."

[mattzerella-sticks]

Stubborn, Coda to 15x03 “The Rapture”

Sam finds Dean after causing the rupture in his and Cas's relationship, trying to heal the wound with a familiar potion. When Dean can't answer a very easy answer, tensions finally boil over and Sam says a few things that Dean needs to hear. Needed to hear for years. Surprising how it takes only one domino to fall for an entire structure to collapse.

Sam softly closes his bedroom door, wincing as the hinges squeak. Echoing in the too empty hallway. Once he hears the small click of his lock Sam steps away. Then he shuffles down towards the kitchen. Each step brings with it a small jolt of cold as his bare feet connect with the tile. He welcomes the distraction as it pushes the more troubling thoughts from the front of his mind.

His path would lead him to the kitchen, if he kept on course. Seeing as the day’s theme is the opposite of that, Sam finds himself following the clattering sounds of the alcohol decanters and his brother’s growling in the War Room.

Dean sits hunched over the glow of the world map. Arms splayed across the surface, one traveling up the length of South America where his pinkie finger gently rubs against Middle America. The other hand clutches to the glass of half-drunk whiskey floating in the Pacific.

Sighing, Sam moves closer. The mutterings he could barely hear earlier become full sentences, a familiar name popping up every few words. He clears his throat. Announcing his presence before Dean could say anything he might regret. That he wasn’t ready for.

His brother tenses, head turning to where Sam entered. Glassy, bloodshot eyes swim in a sea of liquor as they try to focus on him. When the flash of recognition dimly lights up his gaze, the frown smeared across Dean’s face lightens into a harsh line. “What’re y’doin up?”

Great. Slurring means Dean drank enough to kill a horse. The empty row of containers scattered across the map provides enough evidence for his theory.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sam says, “Figured I’d make some coffee… what about you?”

Dean rolls his eyes, lazily saluting with his glass. Whiskey sloshing inside. “Drinkin’.”

“I can see that.”

“Good f’you…”

Sam leans on one of the chairs, sour mood curdling further. His brother takes the barbed silence as an end to their conversation, sipping at his drink and laying his head across the map again without care.

Not ready to leave yet, Sam searches for something to say. Looks in every corner of the War Room, past the archways and into every shadow. The overwhelming absence needles him. “Where’s Cas?”

Scoffing, Dean tucks himself further into his arm.

Sam repeats himself. “Where’s Cas?” Then he scrapes the chair across the floor. Dean stiffens into a seated position, posture straight and face wrenched in pain.

He glares at him, “What was that for?”

“Where’s… Cas ?”

“Why you wanna know, huh?” Dean asks instead, shifting awkwardly. Wobbling to and fro in his seat. “You think you mean that much to him? I got news Sam - you don’t . None of us do.” He empties his glass, slamming it onto the map. “Where’s Cas?” he mocks, snarling, “Who cares - how’s that for an answer?”

Sam’s lips twisted in disgust at the sheer ugliness marring his brother’s features. Gone was the smooth mask of professionalism. With nothing weighing on his shoulders, all the hurt and pain from days ago could swim to surface and take their wretched breaths.

“I care, Dean,” Sam starts, “and so do you -”

Dean scoffs. “I care… maybe once, maybe…” He swallows roughly, gaze darting to his lap. “I don’t anymore. S’all that matters. Cas could go off himself in some stupid way or,” the next part comes out rough, dragged through his clenched teeth. “Or give up this whole rotten business and settle down with some pretty young thing. He made it perfectly clear where the line’s drawn… Us on one side, him on the other.”

Sam glares, Dean’s tantrum eating at his already frayed nerves. “What did you say to him?”

“ Me ?” he splutters, “Why’re you sticking up for that little punk , huh? What’s he ever done for us?”

“What’s he ever - Dean . Do you even hear yourself?” His grip on the chair tightens, the wood biting into his skin. “Cas has given everything to help us. To help you . Sacrificed himself time and time again for the greater good, doing what he thinks right -”

“Yeah, right ,” Dean chuckles darkly, “What he thinks is right . Like smiting the useful demon and forcing Rowena to off herself - he thought that was right .”

Sam sees white. The anger passes, vision sharpening as his teeth press so fiercely against each other they might shatter. “Plans change,” he says, “We didn’t have any other choice -”

Dean rushes to his feet, chair clamoring as it falls backwards. Every muscle wired and ready to pounce, sobriety hemming the steely green of his iris. “Because he didn’t give us a choice, Sammy. He went AWOL and did this to us. Every damn time something goes wrong Cas is there, red-fucking-handed.”

Shocked, Sam distances himself from the brother he barely knows. Anger possessing him like a demented spirit. “If you really think that,” he says, “then it’s your fault. You taught him about free will, about how to make choices. Even if they’re the tough ones, like today’s.”

“Well that was a fucking mistake,” he says with no hesitation. “ He’s a mistake. A lost cause. A - what did he call Bel-bel-bel-whatever? Abomination? Sure let’s go with that.”

“Dean, he’s your best friend -”

“He’s not my -” Dean teeters, so close to falling over. Sam reaches out, ready to catch him. His brother shakes off the stupor and bats Sam’s hand away. More tentative than last time, Dean continues, “Wasn’t my best friend… not for a long time… he was - and now he’s not really…” Nose scrunching in confusion, Dean wipes at his teary eyes and growls. “It doesn’t matter anymore Sam! He never mattered, never cared . Castiel is an angel, and like every other feathery bastard like him all he did was interfere .”

Vein throbbing, Sam sucks a deep breath low into his gut to try and smother the rising flames of his temper. They only fan it. The fire rages across his conscious and turns any remaining patience inside to ash. “I’m fucking tired of this, Dean.”

“So am I. Finally something we can agree on.”

“No, I’m tired of you ,” Sam says, startling Dean. “I’m tired of this .”

“Oh, so you’re gonna move on from me too, Sam?” Dean asks, fear visibly paling his expression. “Leave like Cas, like Chuck -”

“Enough!” Sam roars, “Stop pushing all of your problems onto other people! I’m not Chuck, Cas isn’t Chuck. We actually fucking care about you. The sooner you stop taking your anger out on us - on him - the better all our lives will be.”

“But I am angry with Cas,” Dean argues still, “Sam, Cas he - he let mom die -”

“Yes, mom died,” he says, “Mom died. Jack died. Ketch died, and too many innocent people died… Rowena died, Dean.” Sam stutters a shaky sigh, heart clenching. “I had to kill someone I was getting so close… someone I loved and could see myself loving for a long time. She followed the plan Billie set out perfectly for us, and look how it turned out. Another woman I loved who ended up dead at my hands .”

Dean stares with precise focus at the ground, unable to meet Sam’s gaze. He carries on. “Rowena and me though… we didn’t get a choice. At least there’s some comfort in that, knowing she went out saving the world. Giving other people the chance to decide how they’ll spend their next day. But if you expect me to throw you a fucking pity party for pushing Cas away then you’re skunked. No one held a gun to your head and forced you to hold this ridiculous grudge against him, you pushed away someone you loved all on your own.”

Flustered, Dean meeks out a response. “I didn’t lo… I didn’t… Cas left on his own -”

“Cas left because you gave him no choice,” Sam tells him. “You took away any option he had and when he could only do what was left you blamed him for it. Would you blame the car in front of you for traffic if it was construction’s fault for blocking out the other lanes? No! Then why Cas?”

Sam answers for Dean. “Because you figured Cas would stay. This isn’t the first time you’ve done this but it’s the first time Cas called you on your bluff.”

Dean holds his ground. “There is no bluff -”

“Don’t,” he warns, “Do not… you can lie to everyone, lie to Cas - hell, lie to yourself. But don’t look me in the eye and tell me it isn’t exactly what we both know it is.”

His brother opens his mouth as if to speak, only to snap it shut with enough force to bite the head off a snake.

“You never learn… you lash out at the easiest targets. Probably thought you could get away with it because it was Cas. Cas never leaves you, Cas is always there. Cas will come back - even if it shouldn’t be possible. You had so many chances,” Sam’s voice breaks, a tear slipping free. “And you wasted each one. This isn’t on Cas, man. It’s on you. You’re the reason your world’s falling apart. You’re Chuck. And if you keep on acting this way you’ll end up just like him… miserable, depressed, and alone.”

No more steam left in his engine Sam spins on his heel. Coffee forgotten, he stomps towards his room without glancing back. Not when Dean calls for him, demands he stay. Nor when curses echo in the Bunker’s halls, followed by the smashing of glass against stone.

Sam keeps moving forward, hoping Dean will see the light soon and follow.

He needs to, because with Cas gone there’s one less star brightening his darkness.

[mittensmorgul]

Today on the TNT loop, we went through 9.10, 9.11, and 9.12, and it was a lot, considering the themes of what’s happening in current canon while waiting for 15.05 to air tonight.

Full disclosure, I started typing up this post this morning while watching 9.10, and then my computer helpfully did a windows update and restarted itself, so I lost everything I’d been typing. It wasn’t too much, but heck if I can actually remember what I’d written exactly, but I think looking at all three of these episodes together is possibly more useful anyway, so here we go.

We’ve just been talking about 9.10 and the “imaginary” cheerleader case Gadreel had Sam working on inside his own mind, in relation to the vampire case Sam and Dean worked in 15.04, so we’re already primed to look deeper at what was going on in this episode. For anyone who doesn’t recall, this was ALSO the episode during which Dean completely confessed to a freshly re-angeled Cas exactly why he’d kicked him out of the bunker back in 9.03.

At that time, Dean was being horrifically manipulated by the angel he’d trusted on false pretenses and Cas’s word, in a perfect storm with his own desperation to do anything to save Sam. It took this long for Dean to realize the full extent of Gadreel’s betrayal, and it led directly to Kevin’s death.

So we have manipulation, a larger cosmic power essentially holding Sam hostage, Dean and Cas finally mending this situation between them and confessing the truth and the reasons behind the lies and anger. Obviously the situation is not exactly the same in s15, but the themes are all there. Here, have a few quotes from the episode to show you what I mean.

[DEAN stops his packing and his face melts in emotion as he looks to his friend. Camera pans behind CASTIEL's back and when it comes out on his other side the men are sitting at the table and DEAN has just told CASTIEL the long, hurtful story.]

DEAN:Sammy was dying. What was I supposed to do? CASTIEL: You let an angel possess him? DEAN: He said it was the only way, and I believed him. Now Sam's gone. Kevin's... CASTIEL: Dean, I'm sorry. DEAN: Yeah, well... Sorry don't pay the bills, does it? It sure as hell ain't gonna bring Kevin back. We got to find that son of a bitch. CASTIEL: Dean. If the angel possessing Sam isn't Ezekiel, then who is it? DEAN: A dead man walking. CASTIEL: What, you're gonna destroy him? DEAN: Damn right. CASTIEL: You kill an angel, its vessel dies, too. DEAN: Think I don't know that? If I don't end Sam and that halo burns him out and I... God, I was so damn stupid. CASTIEL: You were stupid for the right reasons. DEAN: Yeah, like that matters. CASTIEL: It does. Sometimes that's all that matters.

They’re still not completely getting to the heart of this issue, though, because there was still Plot™ to deal with that would require them to have this unresolved-- Dean would need to continue to blame himself for everything, Cas would need to feel compelled to stay by Sam’s side to ensure his healing, feeling that he could be “useful” to Dean by taking over Sam Protection Detail, and Sam will need to fully feel the betrayal and not even begin to understand the core issue that led to all of this in the first place to drive that wedge deep enough for Dean to take the Mark, sacrificing himself to protect the ones he loves.

Which is thematically what Cas felt he did trading his own life for Jack’s in 14.08, which of course Dean still doesn’t know about. But the most important thing underlying all this s9 drama is the element of manipulation. Because Dean (and Sam, and Cas) right now believe they are making their own choices in a world without Chuck’s influence, and yet the narrative as a whole is probably being more actively manipulated by Chuck than at any time in their history. It’s this unawareness that’s giving Chuck’s influence the power to manipulate them in the first place.

GADREEL spits out angrily:  How many more lives do I have to take? METATRON: It's not your place to ask questions. It is your place to obey. You want to be my second in command? Prove you're ready. Prove you're loyal. Or don't. Walk away. Go back to being Gadreel the traitor, the sap, heaven's longest-running joke.

Aah, and all along Gadreel had been manipulated by Metatron, s9′s answer to s15′s Chuck.

GADREEL: You have changed, Abner. ABNER: Yeah, well, I was a crappy angel. I was petulant. I deserted my post. I spent 700 years in heaven's lockup. I... No. Doesn't matter. We're a long way from Thaddeus now. GADREEL: I killed him, Abner. I got our revenge. ABNER: I w – I wish you hadn't done that. GADREEL: But why? He tortured us – you most of all. ABNER: I remember. And I remember you were always there to put me back together. GADREEL: We were friends. ABNER: We are friends. And the fall, it's our second chance. We can forget our old hates, who we were. GADREEL: It's not that easy. ABNER: Yes, it is. Look at me. I'm happy. GADREEL: And your vessel – is he happy? ABNER: He was an abusive ass. But I love my family, and they love me. I'm not a wise man, Gadreel. But I know this. The key to happiness? It's getting the one thing you want most and never letting it go. GADREEL: And what if there's a price? ABNER: There's always a price. But it's worth paying.

Abner paid with his life, because Gadreel had been manipulated and lied to by Metatron. Gadreel thought this was part of a grand plan, but it had been Metatron’s demand for loyalty and obedience, forcing Gadreel to literally kill possibly his only friend in the world, the one angel who knew his true story and loved him anyway. TO MANIPULATE GADREEL SPECIFICALLY into doing Metatron’s bidding, cutting off all other avenues to freedom and vindication.

Which... is kinda what Dean’s going through right now, you know? He thinks he’s free, and has cut ties with Cas in a horrific way. I mean, he didn’t literally kill Cas in 15.03, but tell me that wasn’t a metaphorical stab to the heart?

DEAN: Why are you doing this, huh? We fought together. And I trusted you. I thought you were one of the good guys! GADREEL: I am doing what I have to do. DEAN: Well, so am I.

Poor Gadreel, like Dean now, was doing what he thought he had to do. Like Rowena dying to heal the rift into Hell, because she thought it’s what she had to do-- right down to her belief in the prophecy that Sam would kill her being the entire reason the spell worked at all. Like all of them believing that Chuck is gone, because it’s what they feel they have to do to “move on.” And AAARGH.

*hears Dean’s voice yelling in the distance from 4.22 IT’S ALL A BUNCH OF LIES, YOU POOR, STUPID SONOFABITCH*

CASTIEL: Uh... I'm okay. DEAN: Good. Good. That's, uh... So, what, you just change the batteries out, power back up? It's that easy? CASTIEL: It wasn't easy, but I didn't have a choice. DEAN: Yeah. Well, that's usually how it goes. Cas... I'm sorry. CASTIEL: About what? DEAN: Kickin' you out of the bunker. That's, uh... You know, not telling you about Sam. CASTIEL: You thought his life was at stake. DEAN: Yeah, I got played. CASTIEL: I thought I was saving Heaven. I got played, too. DEAN [with a weak smile]: So you're sayin' we're both a couple of dumbasses? CASTIEL [gently smiling back]: I prefer the word "trusting." Less dumb. Less ass.

And then Cas learns the truth of who Gadreel is:

CASTIEL: It's his fault – all of it. The corruption of man, demons, hell. God left because of him. The archangels – the apocalypse. If he hadn't been so weak, none of it would have happened. [CASTIEL gets white hot with anger and starts to shake the unconscious GADREEL] You ruined the universe, you damn son of a bitch! DEAN [grabs CASTIEL and swings him around to face him.]: Cas! Cas! Hey! CASTIEL: Dean, he – DEAN: I get it. But you got to chill.

And obviously NONE OF THIS was actually Gadreel’s fault. He was manipulated by Lucifer, and really, who among them HASN’T been directly manipulated into doing terrible things by Lucifer? And really, can we now say that all of this-- every last bit of it-- was Chuck’s original manipulation, and just another go-around of his favorite horrific story?

Because Gadreel may have been the one to stand aside for Lucifer to enter the garden, but in addition to all the pain and guilt, this was the beginning of Humanity making their own choices and bearing the consequences of those choices. You can’t have true joy without true suffering, and only humans can experience either. The “paradise” of the garden that Metatron had used to lure Gadreel into his service, the promise of the return to that idealistic utopia, was about OBEDIENCE and never about FREEDOM. This is what Abner had tried to show Gadreel, and he was killed for it. And isn’t that just the way Chuck’s stories always go?

Crowley tells Dean that he’s not willing to die for any of them, but then... he literally stands between Sam and Gadreel:

GADREEL: Hello, Sam. SAM: Who are you? CROWLEY: His name is Gadreel, the original chump. GADREEL: Was a chump. And now? I'm going to be the one that leads my kind back to heaven. I'm going to be a hero. But you, demon, for all your chatter, you will always be a coward. You should be running. [CROWLEY punches GADREEL in the face and GADREEL swings back hurling him over the table. GADREEL starts to kick him and SAM comes to his rescue only to be thrown backwards over the table himself. GADREEL straddles him and starts to strangle him.]

Gadreel tries to manipulate Sam, warning him that he still might die if Sam casts him out, but Sam does it anyway.

SAM: So what? I was willing to die. And now... Kevin... [His eyes fill with guilty tears] DEAN [strongly]: No. That is not on you. Kevin's blood is on my hands, and that ain't ever getting clean. I'll burn for that. I will. But I'll find Gadreel. And I will end that son of a bitch. But I'll do it alone. SAM: What's that supposed to mean? DEAN: Come on, man. Can't you see? I'm... I'm poison, Sam. People get close to me, they get killed...or worse. You know, I tell myself that I-I – I help more people than I hurt. And I tell myself that I'm – I'm doing it all for the right reasons, and I – I believe that. But I can't – I won't... Drag anybody through the muck with me. Not anymore. [DEAN looks pleadingly at his brother] SAM: Go. I'm not gonna stop you.

And there we go, in a season that began with Charlie’s voiceover saying something to the effect of, “There’s nothing the Winchesters can’t do if they stick together” over the opening chords of “Who Do You Love.” Which, at this Midseason Finale point  had to be so completely broken. Dean is convinced they can’t work together.

Wait, who wrote this episode? OH RIGHT, ANDREW DABB DID.

Can we see his pet themes at work in s15 yet? I think we can.

With the MoC apparently set to make a reappearance in 15.05 tonight, I’m thinking 9.11 will offer us some valuable insight into what Chuck is up to here. But also we know that Sam will be working with Cas even if Dean is still too messed up for a while, and this was the episode that really began to establish a friendship between Sam and Cas outside of Cas feeling responsible for Sam because of Dean.

And 9.12? Garth had abandoned them, abandoned Kevin, because he’d been bitten by a werewolf on a hunt and had been prepared to give in to that fate. And yet he’d been saved, found love, and found a family and purpose despite having believed he’d lost everything. He was still one of the good guys, even if he was a monster. And we saw the beginnings of the family theme that wouldn’t really have a chance to flourish until Dabb era:

Garth: Um...I know this may sound a little crazy, but... Maybe I could come back and hunt with you. I mean, with my werewolf mojo, we'd have an advantage. Dean: Yeah, look, Garth -- Garth: No, Dean. I want to make this right. I never should've left you guys, especially Kevin. Kevin was my friend. Friends don't do that. Dean: Well, hey, you said it -- you know, who cares where happiness comes from? Look, we're all a little weird, we're all a little wacky -- some more than others -- but...if it works, it works. You got something here. Okay? Even though they are werewolves. Or lycanthropes -- whatever. Don't let that go. Okay? You'll never forgive yourself. Besides, somebody's got to live to tell this damn story someday, and who better than you? Now shut up and come here.

 There was more I wanted to say as I was watching, but I think this covers most of the important stuff for now.

[unwiltingblossom]

Dear SPN fandom

do not fall for the ‘THIS WAS ALL FORESHADOWED’ fluffing circlejerk that fandom loves to do with BS plot twists all the time (not just SPN, most long running or nerd fandoms do this) - NO. IT WAS NOT.

Supernatural was originally written to be a 5 season series by Kripke. The five seasons are pretty tightly written and everything works up into a tidy bow at the end. The Chuck from s5 is consistent from when you meet him until when he disappears at the end. The only change is the sequel hook at the end of Sam being back from the dead.

When Kripke left, Sera Gamble took charge for seasons 6 and 7, where she built up the Leviathan arc, which was widely (and rightfully) reviled. She got dropped and a new writer who had previously been involved in the writing was brought on for season 8.

season 8 - 11 had its writing struggles, but was headed by Jeremy Carver. Despite its issues, it was all fairly cohesive and led up to finding out that Chuck had an evil sister named Amara, who was all of the spitefulness, hatred, chaos and destruction that Chuck was not. This arc was originally going to result in Chuck sacrificing himself and dying to take out Amara, as one couldn’t live without the other, but then they decided at the last minute to let Chuck live and instead redeem Amara so the yin-yang could be restored harmoniously instead. This was another ‘ending’ to Supernatural.

Season 12 got new show runners, Andrew Dabb and Robert Singer. Their writing has been all over the place, with the terrible attempt to expand the Men of Letters, total waste of Mary Winchester, and their overall arc of growing the Winchester family by creating Jack to be their adoptive son. They had a few arcs they picked up and then dropped with extreme prejudice - most notably Sam becoming the next Bobby. Dean being Michael’s unwilling host, and “The world ends if you don’t seal yourself away, there are no exceptions to this future”. They also really struggle to stick to ANYTHING, as they’ll dabble in bringing back Gabriel just to immediately kill him, and try out new kings of hell just to immediately kill them, too, or play around with Mary and multiple different romances only to ship those all off on buses and give an apathetic shrug when they finally got sick of her and killed her off.

Why is this important to note?

Because Dabb and Singer are crap showrunners. They can’t stick to any of their plans, completely squander their characters and opportunities, and will hardcore railroad their stories (see: Jack’s soulless arc) to get to the ending they want. It’s impossible for them to have foreshadowed anything because they can’t make up their mind from half a season to the next, much less multiple seasons.

And this is compounded by the fact that apparently Jensen just said at the last minute “I’m done”, meaning they had no notice to prepare a final season, they just had to find a way to get from where they were (in the middle of an arc - remember how Castiel is supposed to be eaten by the Empty once he’s happy and content and forgotten his promise? Pretty hard to do that now, huh? Guess that’s another dropped plot) to a climactic ending FAST. No other epic conclusion for an arc has happened in the span of a season. The quickest arc was the Leviathan one, and it was only that fast because people hated it. Everything else was 3-5 seasons long, and they clearly didn’t want to use Jack as the villain.

Why is this doubly important to note?

Because Dabb and Singer weren’t the showrunners last time Chuck appeared. Why does it not make sense for Chuck to have sent Kevin to hell when he did? Because he didn’t. Because it didn’t match Chuck’s character - the benevolent, hands-off man with just a bit of a temper when he got riled up - to do that for literally no reason to his own prophet.

There is no foreshadowing. There’s nothing to see, because this was never the plan. Not even Singer and Dabb planned this, because the first hint we get that Chuck is anything like this comes from a psychotic angel musing about what he thinks Chuck does. Oh yes, Amara rants at Chuck about things in season 11, but the writing goes out of its way to show that Amara is bitter and feels betrayed, so her perception of events was warped. The writers now want you to believe that Amara was right all along and that Chuck was a terrible person all this time, but it doesn’t ring true and it isn’t ‘foreshadowing’, because it doesn’t fit in with the writing up to this point.

So don’t say this is ‘foreshadowing’, or that they’ve written a long and subtle character arc for Chuck. Dabb and Singer are tricking you, and relying on you, the viewer, to recognize patterns and subtleties that don’t exist so that they look like better writers than they actually are.

It’s a classic writing trick. Retroactively apply a few things you used in the past, pretend that it was planned all along, and watch as your readers and fans write out the complex plot twist and subtle foreshadowing of events for you.

[jiminisjamin]

The Truth About Steve.

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Requested: No.

Summary: On her first day back at work, she thinks something is off about the new employee, Steve. He doesn’t ever seem to know what he’s doing and seems lost, hurt, and confused- that’s what drew her to him. A magnetic pull that, despite y/n’s efforts, she couldn’t seem to shake. She felt something deep within her soul that she couldn’t ignore- even when he wasn’t around she was thinking about him. So, what is it? And what’s that faint, faint blue light that seems to encircle him wherever he goes?

Warnings: None.

Rating: Fluff.

Word Count: 3,264

Title: The Truth About Steve | Part One (of 3)

 Castiel's eyes begin to flutter shut as he leans against the checkout counter, his heart beating slowly and his head bobbing as he slowly drifts off. A weak voice in the back of his head fights with him to stay awake as he hears footsteps nearing him, but he simply rests his chin in his hand. "Hello," he murmurs. "What can I do for you today? Checking out? Cash or..." He shakes his head, his eyes briefly fluttering open at the sound of quiet laughter. 

"You're the new guy, huh?" Castiel blinks a few times, standing up a little straighter. "Oh. Hello," he extends his hand in greeting. "I'm-"

"Steve. I can see your name tag," she laughs slightly, reaching out and shaking his hand before giving him another smile. "You looked beat- what happened? Did you stay up too late?" Castiel pauses, unsure what the correct response would be. Does he tell her he doesn’t have a place to stay, let alone enough money for the essentials of human living, or does he lie? He pauses as he slowly realizes he doesn't even know what humans would do late at night, and instead shrugs, faltering slightly. 

"I didn't sleep well. I'm...in between homes right now." He casts his gaze away, and y/n frowns, tilting her head at him. Her heart swells slightly as she takes in his helpless, broken demeanor and she puts her hand on his shoulder sympathetically. 

"We've all been there," she whispers, unable to ignore the tug at her heartstrings when he meets her gaze. "If you need help, let me know." Castiel tilts his head.

"You don't know me," his gaze flickers to her nametag. "Y/n, you do not know me." His gaze slides back to her, his eyes darkening slightly. "I could be dangerous," chills run up her spine at the way his voice drops an octave, yet his lips turn up in a quirky, lopsided half-grin, and he turns his gaze to the ground again. "Not that I am," he says quickly. "But I could be." Y/n laughs and shakes her head.

"For some reason I highly doubt that," she regards the faint glow around him, her eyes shining. "There’s something about you...I can't quite place it, but you seem good." Castiel’s eyes light up at this, and he smiles softly again. 

"I'm glad you're not frightened of me." His eyes close again, and he sways slightly, gripping the counter for support. "Sorry- don't worry about me, I'm fine." He waves his hand as she approaches behind the counter, reaching out and grabbing hold of him to try and steady him.

"You don't look too good, Steve." She tightens her grip on his arm when he lurches forward, and she shakes her head. "Okay, that's it. We're closing early- come on, I'm gonna get you back to where you’re staying so I know you didn't die on the way." Castiel shakes his head slightly

"You can't do that," his breath comes out raspy, and y/n nods.

"Yes, I can- and I will."

"No, you..." He looks down at her. "When I said I'm in between homes- I don't have one y/n, as in- no friends, no family…I don’t have anywhere," she blinks a few times, her gaze falling on the dimming light around him, a small, low static him filling her ears.

"Well...then...you're coming home with me," she tugs his arm lightly. "Come on, I want to make sure you're okay. I can...I can make you some soup? You can camp out on my couch or something until you find a place." Castiel turns his gaze to her once more. Her heart beats quickly at the desperate look in his eyes, his obvious want for food and a warm place to stay battling with the doubts swirling around in his head. 

"Steve, please." He blinks a few times, casting his gaze away and sighing.

"That's very kind of you," he replies. "I am forever grateful." She smiles and helps guide him out to her car, making sure there are no customers on her way, and locking up once they are outside. He practically falls into the passenger seat, his head falling back and eyes closing instantly, a small grunt falling past his lips. She smiles to herself, shutting the door after him and moving quickly over to her door, climbing in. 

"If you end up being a murderer I'm going to be so angry," she mutters, eliciting a laugh from his direction, followed by a deep sigh. She glances over at him once more before starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot. Castiel grins again, his eyes involuntarily closing as the radio quietly hums to life.

“Mmm. It’s a good thing I’m not,” he replies softly, pausing before turning his gaze to her. “I’m very…pleasantly surprised by your kindness, y/n. In only a few weeks I’ve been shown kindness that revives my faith in this world.” Y/n blushes slightly and turns on her right turn single.

“Well…thank you. I’m just doing the right thing,”

“What if it’s not safe?”

“Well…I don’t know. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt- you don’t seem bad.” Y/n looks away from the road to meet his gaze and smiles. “I guess I trust you? It’s not like we’re total strangers- we’ve been around each other a bit.” Castiel smiles softly and lets ’s his eyes close again. He hums contently, the cool air blowing some of his hair around a bit.

“That’s true,” he replies softly. “We haven’t talked much, but we’ve worked with each other for a while.”

“We haven’t talked because you’ve never answered me. It’s like you don’t know how to talk to girls or something.” Castiel’s cheeks heat up and he hangs his head in shame, his demeanor once again resembling a kicked-puppy.

“My…social skills are rusty,” he mumbles softly, his hand twitching slightly as a sad look crosses his face. He lifts his head up, eyes shiny, and turns his gaze to the car’s sunroof, staring at the sky as stars and street lamps fly past them. “I’m not too good with people,” he clarifies. “I’ve had a sort of…crutch ever since I’ve been here, and…” his voice trails off. “And now I don’t.” Y/n nods, but stays silently, keeping her gaze on the road. “It’s overwhelming,” he continues, “there are so many things you have to worry about. Food, shelter, clean clothes…” He sighs. “And on top of all of that, you have to…interact with others in a way that won’t offend them. Or scare them.”

“Steve?” She asks softly. “Is this the first time you’ve been on your own?” Castiel pauses and then nods.

“Yes. I had…well, I used to have a great deal of power, and I gave it up for what I thought was right, and for my friends. And, well, I still had my power but not the same position. Now I don’t have power, and…now my friends,” his eyes shine more as he stares at the sky, “they kicked me out of their place.” Y/n frowns.

“So, you sacrificed everything for them, and once you lost this…power, they just dumped you on the side of the road?” Castiel nods.

“Basically, yes.”

“Steve…” she shakes her head. “I’m so sorry- that’s not…that’s horrible. What kind of friend…”

“I’m sure he had his reasons,” Castiel interjects. “He wouldn’t have done it if there wasn’t a reason.” Y/n can’t help but notice the hope in his voice and she briefly turns her gaze to him.

“You don’t know though?”

“No, not really.”

There’s a long stretch of comfortable silence, both thinking about the other as y/n drives.

Castiel can’t keep his mind off how nervous he seems to be around her- and how genuinely kind she is to take him in like this, let him stay at her place- still with an underlying fear of something bad waiting for him at the house.

Y/n can’t wrap her head around why she’s so drawn to Steve- sure, he’s handsome, but she usually doesn’t throw trust at strangers like this. But something about Steve feels…safe, familiar, even. Yet she can’t figure out what, or why. She sighs, her grip tightening around the wheel slightly. She notices Steve’s eyes closing, and his head bobbing slightly as he slowly dozes off. Her eyebrows pull together slightly at the ever-dimming light surrounding him, not thinking as she reaches out to feel it, curiosity getting the best of her.

Her hand hovers just over his shoulder, a light tingle traveling up her arm, causing her to gasp. Steve jerks awake, his eyes widening as he pulls away from her slightly, his hand grabbing her wrist.

“I-I’m sorry,” she pulls her hand away quickly, her cheeks heating up as she turns her attention to the road. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, I just…” Her voice trails off, and Steve shivers slightly.

“It’s fine, y/n. You didn’t mean any harm…” He stretches in the limited space he has, a loud sigh escaping his lips. “I’m just very tired.” She glances over at him, frowning.

“You look kinda pale,” she murmurs.

As she pulls into her apartments parking lot, she glances over at him worriedly. She quickly parks and reaches over, lightly feeling his forehead.

“Oh, Steve,” she sighs, pulling her hand away and frowning. “You have a fever.” Castiel frowns, the same puppy dog expression crossing his face.

“A fever?”

“Yeah, you’re sick.” She sighs and opens her door. “Come on, I have some ibuprofen inside- it’ll help with the fever.” Castiel sighs, pushing the door open and practically rolling out of the car, barely catching himself on the door.

“I’m never sick,” he mumbles, holding his head slightly. “This is horrible.” Y/n rushes over to his side and grabs his arm.

“Come on, Steve. Let’s get you up to my room- if you want I could make soup, or…”

“No, no! Please, you’re already offering me a place to stay- and giving me medicine. You don’t need to do anything else for me.” Castiel replies quickly, guilt forming in the pit of his stomach.

“But, I must have dinner anyways, Steve. I might as well…” She looks hopefully at him, his quickly dulling blue gaze turning to her.

“I…y/n, I…” He sighs, his eyes fluttering shut. “I think I need to sit down,” he reaches out for the car to steady himself, and y/n’s eyes widen as her grip tightens on his arm.

“Okay, okay, come on. I’m taking you up.”

 Castiel practically collapses onto the couch, his chest rising and falling heavily as he squeezes his eyes shut, the sound of y/n shuffling through drawers deafening to his ears. The material of his clothes scratches at his skin, his whole body practically tingling as every slight move sends an odd sensation through his body. He groans in discomfort, tugging the sleeves of his shirt up to try and get relief from the heat, only to breath heavily when it sends a painful, tingling sensation through his whole arm. Y/n rushes over and stares down at him.

“I, uh- I think I have an old boyfriend’s shirt you could wear- an ex, ex…uh.” She sets something down on the table. “Right. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Castiel’s eyes flutter open as she walks away.

“What do I need a shirt for?”

“So, you aren’t so overheated,” she calls out, quickly rushing back in with a plain grey T. “Here, if you want- uh, if you have boxers on or something, you could take off your pants- if it, uh…would make you more comfortable?” She holds the shirt out to him, and he stares forward at it. He takes the shirt, and shifts, pushing himself to stand up. “Whoa, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to…is there a restroom I could change in?” Y/n coughs slightly and nods. “Yeah, I, uh, sorry.” She laughs. “Yeah, over here.” She takes his elbow and gently leads him over to the small bathroom, only walking away when the door closes.

She rifles through the medicine cabinet, trying to find ibuprofen and aspirin when she hears a loud crash. “Oh my god,” she rushes back to the bathroom, throwing the door open without thinking.

Castiel grips the counter to support himself, leaning his forehead on it as well. His bare back is turned to her, the only clothing actually on him being plain, white boxers. Y/n chokes slightly, and whirls around. “Oh- oh I’m so, uh, oh god…I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to- I hear a loud- I thought…I thought maybe you’d fallen, I didn’t…” Another low, almost pained groan falls past Castiel’s lips, and he shakes his head, attempting to stand up.

“It’s fine, y/n, I-” He lurches forward, catching himself on the doorframe, still gripping the shirt. She turns slowly.

“I…how did you even get this sick? What happened.” For the first time, y/n notices the dark circles under his sunken, tired eyes and how a light layer of sweat covers his torso, his skin almost looking sunburnt from the heat. Her jaw drops open. “Steve…what- why are you…how long have you not had a place to stay?” He turns his gaze to the ground, wobbling slightly despite his efforts to keep steady.

“A few months maybe.”

“Have you been eating?”

“Not consistently.”

“Are those the only clothes you have?” He pauses before slowly nodding. “Steve…” She frowns, and reaches out, grabbing his arm. “Come on, let’s get you to the couch.”

“What about the shirt?” Y/n pauses.

“If you’re comfortable you can leave it off, or you can put it on. I just thought you’d be more comfortable like this.” Castiel nods slowly and puts the shirt aside. “I could get you a blanket to cover up though- if you’d like.” He nods slowly.

“That would be nice,” he replies, watching her walk away only to reappear a few moments later with a thin, grey blanket. She drapes it across his lap, and opens a pill bottle, shaking out two small, round, red pills into his hand. “Take this,” she hands him a glass of water. “It should help your fever.” She stands up. “I’m going to change out of my work clothes, and then make some dinner. I’m probably going to make soup…would you like some?” Castiel’s eyebrows pull together and he nods slowly.

“Yes, I would…I would love some food, but please don’t go out of your way…”

“Steve, I have to eat. I might as well make you some food while I’m at it.” She smiles softly and then turns. “I’ll be right back- stay there, okay?” Castiel nods and his eyes flutter shut. He pulls the blanket up closer to his chest, allowing himself to relax on the couch more, his hot, flushed skin sensitive to the couch’s coolness. He hums softly, unable to open his eyes as he hears shuffling in the kitchen.

“Y/n?” He mumbles.

“Yeah, It’s me.” Castiel sighs at her voice, slumping on the couch more, now completely laying on the couch.

“I’m glad it wasn’t a robber- or a murderer,” he mumbles, swallowing thickly and trying to sit up. “I wouldn’t be much help,” y/n laughs at this, and he hears her soft footsteps grow nearer as she shuffles over to him, placing a cool cloth over his forehead.

“I’m just heating up some soup, it shouldn’t take too long.” She brushes strands of his slightly damp hair out of his face, practically combing through his hair with her hand as she stares down at him. Castiel mumbles incoherently, a small smile sliding across his face. Although y/n can’t hear what he says, she laughs softly, and her hand rests on the side of his face. “It’s like you’ve never had the flu before,” she mumbles softly, her head tilting as her lips curl into a small smile. His eyes flutter open and his lips briefly part.

“I don’t get sick very much,” he replies sheepishly.

“It must be because of you not taking care of yourself, recently.” She lightly taps his nose and stands up. “I’m gonna make you a bowl, and I’ll be right back over.” Castiel nods and forces himself into a sitting position, the blanket falling from around his shoulders and covering his lap. Y/n sits down next to him, holding the bowl carefully. She takes a small sip of the soup, and then nods, turning to Castiel. “Here, Steve.” She lifts a spoonful to his mouth and he glances at her briefly before his lips part and he takes the bite, quickly chewing the small chunks of vegetable and what appears to be chicken before swallowing. She smiles and reaches to get another spoonful.

“Y/n I can feed myself- you still need to eat.” She smiles slightly as she lifts the spoon up to him again, and he pauses, glancing over at her.

“I already ate, okay? I knew you wouldn’t let me cook food for you otherwise. So just…eat.” His cheeks turn red- whether from the fever, or embarrassment y/n wasn’t sure, but he complies, swallowing the soup and following her movements as she brings the spoon back to the bowl.

They continue this until the bowl is close to empty and Castiel refuses the last bites, claiming to be full. Y/n eyes him, squinting slightly.

“Are you saying that because you’re actually full or because you feel bad? Because we are literally like three bites away from finishing this.”

“We?” Castiel echoes.

“You, I meant you.” She clears her throat. “So, uh, are you sure? You really don’t want the rest…” Castiel’s gaze stays on the bowl.

“Well…”

“Steve, just take the last of it. You haven’t been eating properly- as you said, you haven’t had a home. You might as well?” Castiel swallows roughly, slowly nodding.

“Yes, please.” Y/n smiles and quickly feeds him the last of the soup. Castiel stares down at his lap, smoothing his hands over the light blanket. “Well…thank you, y/n- again. You’ve been so kind to me these past few hours.” She smiles, and pushes his hair back again, picking up the long-discarded (and no longer cool) washcloth. She sits up, and takes the bowl over to the sink, cautiously returning to the couch.

“So…” She sits down next to him, and he smiles over at her tiredly. “I can go grab you a pillow and an extra comforter- are you cold? Do you need more blankets? I do have the extra comforter if you need it- and some other heavier blankets. Would you like some?” He smiles.

“If it wouldn’t be much trouble- I could help, if you want.”

“No, no. You rest here. Luckily for you, it’s Friday. If I remember right neither of us have work tomorrow…right?” Castiel frowns and nods slowly.

“I work weekdays,” he replies.

“Yeah! Me too.” They pause for a long time, and then she nods, standing up. “Okay. I’ll go get your blankets then.” She smiles again and heads for the closet.

It only takes a few minutes to gather all the items, but by the time she’s back, Castiel is already lying down, his head resting on the couch’s armrest, his bare chest rising and falling rhythmically. She lifts his head carefully to stuff the pillow underneath, and lays the blankets over him, walking over to the hallway and flicking the lights off. “Goodnight, Steve.” She mutters, turning away from him and sighing. “I really, really hope you’re as good as I think you are.”

Tags:

Castiel: @shows-up-naked-covered-in-bees

SPN: @thatshellfiredean , @idixsyncrxsy ,, @ain-t-bovvered , @shows-up-naked-covered-in-bees , @and-we-are-all-dead

Remember, you can ask to be added or removed from any taglist at any time.

[astralgabriel]

just my soul responding

sabriel coda fix-it fic - this one is quite heavy, with mentions of suicidal behaviour. if that is a trigger for you, please don’t read on

also posted here on ao3

One week.

It had been one whole week since Sam had carried the Messenger of God out of the Empty, pale and unresponsive in his arms.

Rowena had rushed back to the Bunker after hearing about Michael, the small witch bringing a much needed flurry of hope and energy back to the building. Charlie had opted to stay on the road, reaching out to all she could and warning them of Michael’s presence.

Dean’s absence weighed heavily on everyone. Michael choosing to lay low had only worsened that - no-one had seen Dean’s face for a week.

Sam worked like a man possessed, combing through every lore book for anything that could help get his brother back. He only slept when it was physically impossible to carry on, and even then for only a few hours at a time.

Castiel grew increasingly high strung. He had already been struggling with the impending collapse of Heaven and subsequent extinction of his species, and the loss of Dean had tipped him over the edge.

It was a simple thought from Jack one afternoon - “If only I had my powers, I could wake my uncle. He could help us.” - that set the wheels of a rather haphazard plan in motion.

Rowena was able to rip open a portal to the angelic afterlife with relative ease, the rift casting the library in a soft purple glow. Since the Empty could only play host to the supernatural dead, they’d settled on Sam crossing, with Castiel following if he hadn’t returned within a day.

The Cosmic Entity confronted Sam almost immediately, wearing a mockery of his image like a suit two sizes too small. It was the picture of destructive rage and barely concealed pain, its face contorted in an aggressive snarl; Sam narrowed his arms and lifted his chin defiantly.

“You can’t be here, human,” it spat out, squaring its shoulders.

“Tell you what,” Sam said, folding his arms across his chest. “You give me what I came here for, and I’ll leave.”

The Cosmic Empty stepped towards Sam, though the wince of pain took away from the intimidating gesture. “I don’t make deals with insignificant mortals like you.”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to suffer then, because I’m not going anywhere.”

They came to a stalemate. Sam wouldn’t budge, and the Entity couldn’t pressure him into leaving. For Sam, this was little more than a minor inconvenience, but for the Cosmic Entity, the pounding pain inside its head grew and grew till it finally relented.

“What do you want, huh? How do I get rid of you?”

“Gabriel,” Sam said, smiling innocently. “I need Gabriel, the archangel.”

The Cosmic Entity scowled at him, but between one instance and the next, the Messenger’s unconscious form appeared in front of Sam. “You get him in the condition I received him. No more.”

Sam sighed, but conceded. Holding the archangel tight to his chest, bridal style, Sam left his twisted doppelganger and the unrelenting blackness of the Empty behind.

Relief coursed through him as he watched Gabriel’s chest rise and fall, slow and rhythmic, in the soft light of the Bunker.

For the first time in a week, Sam felt a spark of hope flicker to life inside him.

It had been five days since Gabriel woke. He had lashed out at anyone who tried to approach him, watching everything carefully with wild, unblinking eyes. Sam sat on the opposite side of the room and spoke to him in hushed tones till that feral look turned into something more familiar.

“Sam?” Gabriel had said, the name falling from his lips like a hopeful plea.

The sound of his name, uncertain and cautious, had Sam letting out a sigh of relief. “Yeah, it’s me,” he said, his smile spread wide across his cheeks. “It’s me, Gabriel. You’re safe. You’re alive.”

Gabriel surged forward with inhuman speed and gripped Sam desperately tight, fingers clawing into his plaid shirt. Sam held the archangel close, one hand cradling the back of his head, unsure how to handle the protective instinct rearing up inside him.

This was a being of immense power, who could twist time and reality with less than a thought, and in that moment, Sam wanted nothing more than to hide him away from the world’s cruelty.

Sam murmured meaningless comforts as Gabriel shook, silent sobs wracking his body. Gabriel crumbled under the gentle circles traced on his back; Sam realised, with a spike of sorrow, that Gabriel likely hadn’t felt simple kindness in years, maybe longer.

Slowly, the tremors running through Gabriel ceased, giving way to the gentle rise and fall of breathing. Sam noticed, with a soft fondness, that the archangel had fallen asleep against his chest.

There was something so warming about knowing that Gabriel trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms, that Gabriel felt safe enough to lower his defences completely around Sam.

Trying not to jostle the archangel too much, Sam slipped one arm under Gabriel’s knees and curled the other around his shoulders, lifting him. He figured that whilst Gabriel was probably tired enough to sleep most anywhere right now, a bed was likely more preferable to the floor.

Sam made to leave, but felt himself held in place by a gentle yet unnervingly strong grip; Gabriel blinked up at him sleepily, raw fear and need clear in his eyes. He didn’t have to say a word, Sam just knew.

Please don’t leave.

If there was anything Sam understood, it was that desperate need to not be alone. To feel the warmth of someone else, to know that this was all real.

Gabriel had forced himself to be functional - for us, Sam’s mind guiltily supplied - long before he was ready. For weeks, Gabriel had forced one foot in front of the other, shaped himself into the image of normality, and his stability had crumbled.

Sam nodded and smiled. When Gabriel finally let his grip fall, Sam shrugged off his plaid shirt and toed off his shoes. He paused momentarily before undoing his belt, stepping out of his jeans. Down to just his boxers and undershirt, Sam pulled the sheet back.

“I’ll just, uh,” Gabriel mumbled, stumbling over his words as he began shuffle to the opposite edge of the bed. “Sorry. Bet you didn’t have spooning with a hot mess on your to do list today.”

“Gabe, it’s okay.”

The smaller man stilled as Sam pulled him back against his chest, then melted into the embrace. Sam was careful to make sure his grip was loose; he knew just how restraining a simple hug could feel in the depths of a panic attack.

It didn’t take long for sleep to pull Gabriel under, every remnant of tension in his body rolling away.

Sam slept lightly that night. Every whimper and every jolt woke him, had him humming gently against the top of Gabriel’s head, pressing soft touches against Gabriel’s palm till the archangel calmed again

Not for the first time - and he found himself hoping not for the last as well - Sam marvelled at the miraculous being in his arms. Where Lucifer had ran jarringly cold, Gabriel was a gentle warmth, like compassion and love embodied in a small frame.

It had been three days since Sam had last spoken to Gabriel.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. Wherever Sam was, Gabriel was not. Sometimes he caught fleeting glimpses of the archangel turning a corner, but Sam was never fast enough to catch up to him.

He probably just needed some space, Sam reasoned. Resurrections were always disorientating, especially the first time - it took a while to get to grips with the fullness of life again.

It was the first time since his escape from captivity that Gabriel didn’t have a distraction to occupy his mind. There was no revenge mission to throw himself into, or bizarre interdimensional rescue to take part in. There was just processing.

Still, every day, Sam knocked on Gabriel’s door, called his name. There was never a response.

At night, Sam was almost certain he heard muffled sobs echoing down the hallway. Every time he reached Gabriel’s room, he found the archangel fast asleep, curled up and nesting amongst all the pillows and blankets he’d been able to find.

Often, Sam lingered a little longer than necessary, committing the peaceful sleep expression to memory, before the self-loathing and suffering tore it away again come morning.

“Why couldn’t you have just left me there?”

Sam started at the sound of Gabriel’s voice, blinking up from his book. Gabriel stood in the doorway, shoulders slumped, watching Sam. There was something in his expression behind the neutral mask, something vulnerable and angry and exhausted spilling through the cracks.

“What?” was all Sam managed in response, frowning.

“I was finally free,” Gabriel said, the forced neutral tone slipping, exposing the raw pain in his words. “I had finally escaped, and you- You dragged me back.”

“Gabriel... You’re free, you know that, right? You’re safe here.”

The responding bitter laugh flooded the library with tangible malice, twisting something uncomfortably deep in Sam’s stomach. Gabriel’s feigned cool expression was gone, lips twisting into a snarl.

“Am I free, Sam? Am I really?” Gabriel bit out sharply. “I owe you my life. My gratitude. My servitude. My shackles aren’t physical anymore, but they’re still there.”

“And what’s that meant to mean, huh?” Sam replied, narrowing his eyes. Gabriel lifted his chin defiantly, challenging Sam. “Do you even know how difficult it was to get into the Empty, to convince it to let you go?”

“I never asked you to bring me back. I never wanted to be brought back!”

Sam felt his stomach drop as it all clicked.

“Gabe-”

“I did the whole noble, self-sacrificing death for- for you!” Gabriel yelled, his voice cracking. He paused and dropped his head, drawing in a shuddered breath. “I have nothing left to give, Sam.”

“Gabriel,” Sam said, his tone careful and controlled, “You knew you couldn’t beat Michael, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“... You didn’t plan on coming back to this world, did you?”

Gabriel averted his eyes, dropping his chin. “No.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?” Gabriel replied, but the edge was gone - he just sounded tired.

Sam swallowed down his unease - there was something wrong about seeing his own demons and mental struggles mirrored in the Holy Messenger. “It does to me,” he said softly, watching as Gabriel shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

Gabriel froze for a moment, looking torn between running and opening up, then sighed. He sat down opposite Sam, elbows propped up on the table, but still avoided eye contact.

“Every time I close my eyes, I see him. I know I’m free, but... I’m not. I’m still in that cage, still his little chew toy. I mean, what kind of archangel ends up as some demon’s bitch?” Gabriel laughed, but there was no amusement there, just pain and self-loathing.

“I always knew my brothers were better, stronger, that I was the runt of the litter. The holy offcut with a penchant for hedonism and humanity. Asm- uh, he didn’t just break me. He shattered me, and I can’t even begin put myself back together because I don’t know where all the pieces are.”

Sam wanted nothing more than to reach out, to offer a semblance of comfort to Gabriel as he opened up, but knew the archangel would simply shut down again if interrupted.

“I just- I wanted it to be over, Sam. I want it to be over.”

“I know how it feels. Trust me, I do. You just want it to be over, you want to escape it all and it seems like the only way.”

Gabriel stilled, his lips parted ever so slightly. Sam had his full attention. He wanted to be able to believe Sam, to trust in what he said, but there was still that lingering doubt at the back of his mind.

“Death isn’t the answer,” Sam said, watching the archangel carefully for any response. “It means no more suffering, but also means you never get to recover. You never get to rediscover the beauty in life.”

Gabriel’s lips drew into a thin line as he rubbed at his eyes with his palms, willing the growing urge to cry back down. “I don’t know where to start, Sam,” he said finally, his voice rough and low.

“I’ll help you,” Sam replied, offering up a hopeful smile. “We’ll all help you. One step at a time, Gabe.”

Gabriel nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Sam thought in that moment, Gabriel truly looked his age - the years weighed down on him, dragging his shoulders down, exhausting him to the bone.

“Come on,” Sam said, standing up and offering his hand. Gabriel looked up at Sam, furrowing his brow in confusion. “You need to rest.”

Gabriel allowed Sam to lead him by hand back to his room. He caught Sam’s wrist as the hunter made to leave, looked up at him with the same pleading eyes from days before.

“Stay?”

“Sure.”

[fangirlingtodeath513]

compulsion | a 13x20 coda

read here on ao3

Listening to the two of them yammering on down the hall is nearly unbearable, really. Neither of them are saying what they want to and, quite honestly, it’s infuriating. He’s not really sure how Castiel does it on a daily basis. His eyes flick up from the ground when he hears footsteps approaching and he flashes Castiel a grin. “Heya, Cassie. Been a long time, brother.” Castiel nods once, motioning for Gabriel to enter the room with the hand that isn’t holding a pile of bedding. So not in a chatty mood, then. Well, he can fix that. He pushes the door open, gesturing for Castiel to go inside first.   “So how do you stand them, huh? I mean, I know you can hear them even back here, it’s gotta be annoying. They’re just talking around each other.” “It’s a Winchester habit.” Castiel says, softly, and wow, that’s new. Castiel had always been firm in his command, never timid and submissive. It’s… interesting, to say the least. “Yeah, I kinda got that. But isn’t it annoying? Why haven’t you, like, tied them to chairs and made them talk?” Castiel turns to stare at him with a raised eyebrow. “Why would I do that? They’re adults, if they want to talk, they’ll talk.” 

Gabriel snorts, shaking his head and leaning against the wall as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Right, because they’re the first family to avoid talking after their dad screwed them over.” “If you have something to say, then say it.” Castiel hisses, and it catches him a bit off guard. Emotions. It’s such a human thing, and it’s kinda shocking to see good little soldier Cas doing such a human thing. He raises his eyebrows in surprise, putting his hands up defensively. “Dude, relax, I was just asking. I admit, they’ve cleaned up a lot of messes they shouldn’t have had to.” Castiel glares at him for a moment more before turning back to the bed. The only sound in the room is the rustling of sheets as Castiel makes the bed and the silence is making him antsy. “Heaven’s shutting down.” Castiel says, suddenly, his voice deceivingly steady. “Heaven’s… what?” Castiel pauses and he can practically see the steadying breath the angel takes. “Heaven’s shutting down. There’s less than twenty angels left alive, including us. There aren’t enough angels in Heaven to properly power it, so it’s begun to shut down. And if it does-” “Every single soul in Heaven falls back to Earth and wreaks havoc before ending up in the veil when a hunter catches up with them. Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair (another human gesture, though this time it’s him that’s picked one up), and Castiel finally turns to face him. “Yes. I’m afraid there aren’t enough hunters to deal with that magnitude, though. There’s more souls in Heaven than there are on Earth, currently, and even if they aren’t violent right away, they’ll deteriorate into vengeful spirits.” “So… why don’t you call Dad, then? You guys have seen him, right? He can fix it, bring some angels back or make some more or somethin’.” Castiel shakes his head and tucks his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunching slightly. It makes him look smaller. “He hasn’t answered. I’ve been praying for weeks, before I even knew about this, but he doesn’t care. The only reason he came back before was because Amara was intent on killing him.” Gabriel pauses at that, narrowing his eyes. “Did you say Amara? As in, Dad’s sister, the one we locked away oh-so-many millennia ago? Gave the Mark to Cain and all that jazz?” Castiel nods slowly, clearing his throat. “Dean, he took the Mark on to finish off the final Knight of Hell, Abaddon, before she destroyed the entire planet. He… ultimately succumbed and became a demon. Rowena and Sam were able to remove the Mark but it ultimately released Amara.” Gabriel laughs harshly, shaking his head. “They stop one apocalypse and bounce right off to the next one. Incredible.” Castiel glares at him and, despite the fact that the angel is much less powerful than him, he can see the bond between he and Dean and he’s sort of scared of what Castiel will do to protect the older Winchester. “You want to blame the Winchesters for this? They’re the only ones cleaning up these cosmic messes! God certainly couldn’t be bothered, Michael and Lucifer are insane, Raphael was power-hungry, and you disappeared centuries ago. The only people who gave a damn what happened to this world are down the hall.” He watches Castiel’s grace flare and reach for Dean’s soul with fascination. He’s never seen a bond like this one, and the intensity of it is downright terrifying. He can see the snarl on Cas’s face, his real face, so he holds his hands up defensively. “Look, man, I don’t want to fight. I left because I was tired of cleaning up Dad’s messes, and I’m guessing you are too. So why don’t we just save your family, make sure alt Michael can’t get over here and destroy us, and then we can all live happily ever after.” Castiel stares at him for a minute before giving him a curt nod and leaving. He stands still for a moment before smirking and snapping his fingers once. He may not have enough mojo to open a portal, but he’s got enough to make those two idiots talk to each other, for real. Besides, the three of them being on the same page will help him avoid his own death when they finally make it to the other world.                                       ·     ·     ·     ✤   ·     ·     · “Dean… we’re going to that place, and we’re gonna save Jack and Mom. Together. And… if something happens, we will deal with it. Together.” Sam turns and starts to walk out of the room before pausing and turning back to Dean. “And if we die? We’ll do that together, too.” Dean shakes his head once Sam’s back is turned, sighing quietly. Right, Sammy. Sure. “No we won’t, Sam.” His eyes widen and he snaps his mouth shut before he can say anything else. That’s definitely not what he wanted to say, no matter how much he’d been thinking it. Sam turns back to him, his eyebrows raised. “We won’t? Why’s that?” He swallows, his mind turning over excuses, settling on I just mean we’re not gonna die over there. Except that isn’t what actually comes out of his mouth. “Because I won’t let you die, no matter what. You, Mom, Jack and Cas are coming home, even if it means I don’t.” He slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide and startled. Why can’t he say what he wants to, why is he saying what he’s actually feeling? What the hell? He doesn’t have much time to worry about it, though, because Sam’s walking back to him and he’s pissed. “That’s idiotic, Dean. You can’t just sacrifice yourself for us.” If it comes down to it, I would. “I’ve been doing it all my life, Sam. I was raised to think that your life was more valuable than mine, I was just a good little soldier. Expendable.” Oh, for fuck’s sake. He sees the hurt flash across Sam’s face and, while he absolutely hadn’t intended to say those words, it… actually feels kinda nice to have it out there in the open. “Dean, your life isn’t worth less than mine. You’re not expendable.” This isn’t what I’m trying to say, I don’t know why this is happening. “But if it comes down to it, I’m not going to hesitate. I’ll do whatever it takes to get the four of you home alive.” “What makes you think we want to come home if you don’t come with us?” Well shit, that’s not Sam’s voice. He turns to see Cas standing in the doorway to the bedrooms. God only knows how long he’s been standing there. “Because then you’ll be alive. You’ll have Jack back,” he says, turning to Sam, “And you’ll have Mom back. You’ll be happy.” Sam shakes his head, shock and disbelief written across his face. “Dean, what makes you think we would be happy if you sacrificed yourself for us? How could that possibly make us feel any better? Because Mom and Jack will be safe, and both of you will be alive. That’s all that matters. “Because all I do is fuck everything up anyway.” “What?” Sam and Cas ask simultaneously, eyes narrowed in his direction. “Oh, don’t act like I’m wrong. I jumpstarted the first apocalypse because I was weak and couldn’t hold out in Hell. I left hunting after you died and Cas didn’t have anyone to turn to when the angels went nuclear, so that one’s my fault. I let Amara out because I couldn’t deal with the Mark. It’s my fault Mom’s trapped over there, because I couldn’t deal with-” He cuts himself off quickly with a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide. Way too close for comfort, he’d almost admitted how hard Cas’s death had been on him this time around. “You’re an idiot.” Castiel says angrily, his glare fixed on Dean. “None of that is your fault, Dean. If it wasn’t you, some other righteous man would’ve broken the seal. I made my choices. I could’ve gone to you and asked for help, but I didn’t. That’s not on you.” “I let Amara out. I was the one who found the spell. You had a solution that would’ve kept her locked away, but I… I couldn’t deal with it.” Sam says gently, frowning. “You don’t fuck anything up, Dean. We want you here. I want you here. I-” Castiel cuts himself off and he sees the angel’s eyes widen before he turns and stalks back down the hallway he came from. Weird. Though it’s still not the weirdest thing about this entire exchange. “Look, Sam…” I don’t want to sacrifice myself. I want to be here with you. But if it saves your lives, I’ll do it. “I don’t want to die. I thought I was ready, I thought I’d go down hunting, that I’d die alone, but… I don’t want that. So let’s figure out what we’re going to do when we get there so we can avoid anyone dying.”                                     ·     ·     ·     ✤   ·     ·     · He barely hears the door creak open before he’s being spun around and shoved against the wall so hard that it leaves a dent. Castiel’s got two fistfuls of his shirt and his glaring at him with all the hatred he can possibly muster. He still kinda looks like an angry kitten though. “Remove it, Gabriel. Now.” Gabriel raises his eyebrows, holding back a smirk. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, brother of mine. I haven’t done anything.” “You’re compelling them to say what they feel rather than what they’re trying to say. Stop it.” “You sure caught on quick, Cassie. Why would I want to remove it? If I’m gonna put my life on the line for their mission, I want them on the same page.” “That’s not your decision to make, you spineless coward. Remove the compulsion.” Gabriel’s eyes go dark and he glares right back. “Sure you don’t want to go back out there? Might be the only chance you have of hearing Dean say that he loves you.” He’s barely got the sentence out before Castiel’s grace is flaring and he’s being shoved entirely through the wall, sprawling on the floor of the bedroom next door. Castiel’s on him in a second, his hand twitching toward his angel blade. Luckily for Gabriel, the sound of the wall collapsing is enough to attract the Winchesters. Dean pulls Cas off him and Sam helps him up, glancing between him and Cas. “What the hell is going on here?” Sam asks, eyes narrowed. “Gabriel’s placed you under compulsion. He’s forcing you to say what you actually feel.” Castiel says harshly, causing Dean to tighten the arm around him. Sam glances at Dean with a raised eyebrow. “That explains a lot.” Dean doesn’t say anything, but Castiel can feel the embarrassment radiating from his soul. Slowly, he loosens his arm around Castiel once he’s sure the angel’s done attacking Gabriel. “Why’d you shove him through the wall?” Gabriel smirks as Castiel glares at him, avoiding Dean’s question. “What’s the matter, Cassie? Cat got your tongue? Go on, clue them in.” Castiel doesn’t budge, so he pulls at the little grace he has left, snapping his fingers. Cas tries to resist, he really does, but he’s no match for an archangel. Even one as low-powered as he is right now. “I told him to remove the compulsion but he refused. I called him a coward and he told me I should return to you because it might be the only chance I have to hear you say that you love me.” He watches Sam squint at the angel and shake his head. “Cas, of course we love you. You’re our family.” Gabriel shakes his head in disbelief, glancing at Dean and Castiel before turning to Sam. “My Dad, you really are thick-headed, aren’t you? You weren’t part of the equation, Sam.” It takes a minute, but realization finally dawns on Sam’s face as he turns to look at Dean and Castiel, who are very pointedly ignoring eye contact. Gabriel rolls his eyes, waving his hand to remove the compulsion. “If I’m gonna risk my life over there for you three idiots, you need to have a nice, long chat about where your priorities lie. I just got my freedom back, I’m not going to lose it because you can’t deal with your shit.” With that, he stalks past them and towards the entrance to the bunker, brushing dust off himself as he goes. He needs to get outside and spread his wings. Maybe try to convince God to get of his lazy ass and help them, for once. The bunker’s door clicks shut behind him as he tilts his head toward the sun and closes his eyes, unfurling his wings and sending a desperate plea in God’s direction.

[pink1031]

You’ve Woken Up The Demon In Me- Part 4

Characters: Demon!Dean x Reader, Crowley, Castiel, Cole

Warnings: Violence, non-con, dub-con, language, rough sex, oral (male and female receiving),angst, smut, choking, general abuse, Fluffiness is abundant in this last part.   

A/n: So we have made it to the end of this one, finally.  Sorry it took me so long to finish this one and hopefully it was worth the wait. This one continues to follow the story line of the show as far as Cole’s character is concerned. I did not follow everything exactly, but much of the dialogue is there and the same premise. Sorry if this is pure trash. Gifs are not mine.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

@build-a-pyre

@wildefire

You sat in the library in silence, a bottle of Jack Daniels in your hand as Sam took Dean’s food to his room.  You poured yourself your third glass and brought it to your lips.  Sam’s soft footsteps filled the room as you sat the glass back down on the table.  You slid the bottle over to him as he pulled out the chair next to yours.

“How you holding up?” Sam looked at you with furrowed brows.

“Cas healed everything up so, I’m good.” You shrugged your shoulders.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Sam pursed his lips as he poured himself a drink.

You sighed and stared down at the honey colored liquid in your glass. “I don’t know Sammy.”

Sam brought his own glass to his lips and took a long drink. “You want to talk about it?” 

“I really don’t know what to say about it.” You glanced up meeting his eyes for only a minute before looking back down at the table.

“I can’t imagine how you are feeling Y/n.” Sam sighed softly, he reached out and gently gripped your hand holding it in his own large one. “I just want you to know I am here for you and I will listen if you do decide you want to talk.” You returned his sad smile and held his hand. “I just don’t know what good talking about it is going to do. I mean, my best friend, the man I love almost killed me.  He uh, he…” Your voice trailed off.  You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the words.  

“He raped you Y/n.” Sam looked at you then. “You can say it.”

You quickly jerked your hand away from Sam and shifted in your chair. “It wasn’t like that.” You huffed. “I mean it was but it wasn’t.” You let out a growl of frustration. “I wanted Dean. I’ve wanted Dean for a long time.” You paused and looked down at your hands. “Just, just not like that.” You looked up at the younger brother with tears in your eyes. “Fuck Sammy, I am just so confused about it all.”

Sam just looked at you with a frown on his face. His large hand reached out for yours again but you jerked away and stood up. “What am I supposed to do Sam?” you almost yelled in your frustration. “I mean, part of me wants to run in there and hold him because I know the shit that is going through his head and part of me is scared shitless to even be within five hundred feet of him.” You began pacing the floor as the anger, sadness, and frustration all coursed through your veins.

Sam’s brows furrowed deeper. “I honestly don’t know, Y/n.” He huffed softly, his lips forming a thin line.

“You know I love him Sammy.” You turned to face the younger Winchester. “That’s why I stayed with him out there.” You flung your arm out in gesture pointing past the walls of the bunker.

“What?” Sam asked, the confusion showing on his face.

“C’mon Sammy.” You rolled your eyes as you started pacing again. “You and I both know I am better than fucking Houdini at slipping a pair of cuffs. I could have been out of there that first night.” You stopped to see the surprise expression on Sam’s face. “But I couldn’t leave him out there all alone with Crowley.  I had to know he was all right. I had to stay with him.”

Sam rose from his chair in one fluid movement at your confession. In two long strides, he was at your side wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tight against his chest. He held you close, tears filling his eyes at the realization that all the pain and abuse you suffered was the price you were willing to pay to make sure his brother was not alone.  You sacrificed yourself to make sure Dean was safe, or as safe as he could be under the circumstances. 

“Y/n?” Dean’s voice cracked as he spoke. The one word, your name, holding so much raw emotion.

Your heart raced and fear immediately coursed through you as you saw Dean standing in the library doorway. You quickly pushed Sam away from you and took two steps back not wanting to face the consequences of being caught hugging his brother. 

“No, no, no, sweetheart.” Dean held his hands out to his sides as he took a few steps forward. The fear on your face breaking his heart. “It’s okay.  It’s okay.,” he said softly. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” You stammered. “He hugged me. I didn’t…” Your voice trembled.

“Y/n, baby,” Dean stopped moving as he watched your body shake with fear. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. Never again. Never.” Tears streaked down Dean’s cheeks as he spoke. 

You took a shaky breath. Tears already forming in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks.  You nodded your head softly, Dean took another step forward, and it made you instinctively take a step backwards. Dean stared at you for a long moment. He wanted so badly to rush to you and wrap you up in his arms. He wanted to hold you and kiss away every tear that fell from your eyes and let you know everything was going to be okay.  However, with every step that Dean made towards you, you took a step away from him.

“Listen, brat, I uh..” Dean paused as he saw you visibly cringed at his use of his nickname for you and he swore to himself right then that he would never call you brat again.  

Dean’s shoulder slumped in defeat. He had no idea how to make this right between the two of you. He didn’t know if he was ever going to be able to fix what he had broken inside of you.  His lips parted to speak but there were no words that could ever make what had happened all right so he closed his mouth and turned to leave the room.

“Dean, wait.” You called out softly. Your voice still a little shaken. Dean slowly turned to look at you. “I know…” you paused struggling to find your own words. “I know it wasn’t you and, and I don’t blame you. I just need some time to process. Ya know?”

A small soft smile that didn’t reach Dean’s eyes formed on his pink lips. “Of course sweetheart. I just,” Dean paused as he felt his own tears prickling at his eyes once more. “I uh, heard what you said to Sammy and I just wanted to say thank you.  Thank you for not leaving me alone and thank you for not giving up on me.  I know saying I’m sorry will never make up for what happened but I truly am sorry.” Dean didn’t wait for your response before turning and heading out of the room.

One month later:

It had been a month now since Dean was back to being Dean. The three of you had heeded Casteil’s advice and taken some time off for yourselves.  The time off hadn’t lasted long before you and Dean both were ready to jump back into work. Wanting desperately to get back to some sort of normalcy.  Sam had been leery of going back to work but with the both of you hounding him, he didn’t have much of a choice. 

By the close of that first month you were finally able to be in the same room with Dean without feeling like you were on edge and without your fight or flight instinct kicking in. In fact, you had made enough progress that Sam was able to leave you and Dean alone in a room together for small periods of time without you immediately bolting for the door. Sam was very happy to point out that fact when he had actually gotten to go take a shower without you locking yourself in your room while he had been busy.  

Things by no means were back to normal between you and Dean. You didn’t talk to each other much and neither of you could really look each other in the eye. You certainly were not ready for any kind of physical contact with Dean yet.  Even the friendly hugs and playful contact that you so often shared before Dean became a demon was very much off limits.  You were both trying very hard but like you both kept telling each other and yourselves, it was just going to take time.  

3 months later:

By the time three months had passed since Dean had been cured things were going a little smoother.  You and Dean were talking more even joking around some. Your nightmares had greatly decreased and the three of you were back to full time work.  

You were now able to stay in a room alone with Dean and were mostly at ease.  You still had no physical contact which was beginning to take its toll on Dean.  There were so many times when he had automatically reached out to hug you or put his arm around you, which to him seemed so natural, only to have you flinch and pull away when he tried.  

Dean was beginning to think he would never gain your trust back and he had almost lost all hope that you would ever love him again the way you had before.   Things changed the night Cole came back into your lives. You found yourself standing in a dark alley with your gun drawn pointing it at Cole as he pointed his gun right back at you.

“Put it down. Y/n, put it down!” Dean barked at you from the opposite end of the alley.

You looked at Dean and then back at Cole as you slowly lowered your weapon just as Sam came around the corner. 

“Cole, hey, right here. We're talking, okay?” Dean spoke calmly as he drew Cole’s attention away from you and Sam.  Your eyes darted between Dean and the man standing between the two of you with his gun trained on Dean.

“How can I believe you, huh?” Cole asked, his voice was quivering. “How can I believe you?” he yelled the question this time. “My whole life, I’ve been…”

“I get it.“ Dean interrupted him. “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. They take us to dark places,“ Dean paused for a minute, “the kind of place where I might beat the crap out of a good man just for the fun of it.“ Dean’s eyes met yours over Cole’s shoulder as he spoke. “The people who love me, they pulled me back from that edge.” 

You took a shuddered breath as you watched the situation unfold and Dean continued to speak. “Cole, once you touch that darkness... It never goes away. 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. So, the question is, is that gonna be today? That gonna be that gun?”

Your lips parted. You wanted to scream a resounding “no” to answer Dean’s question for Cole.  The thought of Dean being gone made your heart ache and your stomach tighten and you knew in that moment that you still loved the man with everything in you.  

Before you could speak Sam’s voice cut through the silence. “You've got a family, Cole.” the sound of Sam’s voice made Cole turn to look at him. “I heard you on the phone that night. I'm guessing they need you to come back, and they need you to come back whole.”

Cole stared between the brothers for a moment before slowly lowering his gun and handing it back over to Dean.  He simply nodded his head and walked away. Once Cole had climbed back into his vehicle you breathed a sigh of relief and did the only thing you could think of, you ran to Dean.  Dean’s body stiffened in surprise as you ran towards him and flung your arms around him. 

“What if he had shot you Dean?” You hugged the man as tight as you could. “You were just going to stand there and let him shoot you.” Tears filled your eyes and your voice began to tremble. “I can’t loose you Dean. Not again.” 

“Shh,” Dean finally allowed his arms to gently wrap around you and he held you softly against his chest. “I’m not going anywhere sweetheart. I’m right here.”

  Dean closed his eyes as he rested his head on top of yours. He breathed in deeply inhaling the scent of your hair, drinking it in as if he might never get to smell it again.  He had missed your touch and your smell so much he wanted to stay in this moment forever, just holding you and just feeling you against him.   Your sobs began to rock your body, it was like once the flood gates had opened they wouldn’t close and you and Dean both realized this was what you had needed. He held you and rocked you gently in his arms as all your emotions that you had been bottling up over the last three months came flooding out in the form of tears. Dean gently stroked your hair and ran a gentle hand up and down your back. 

“That’s it darlin’, just let it all out.” He soothed as he held you tight. “I got you.” It was at that moment, as you clung to Dean like your life depended on it, you couldn‘t stop the words from spilling out of your mouth. “I love you Dean.” You whispered softly against his chest as your sobs slowly subsided. Dean gently cupped your chin in his rough calloused hand and tilted your head up so he could look down into your eyes. His thumb gently stroked over your cheek as his jade eyes locked on yours. “I love you too sweetheart.” He smiled softly.

Dean dipped his head to press his full soft lips to yours but your body instantly tensed and you pulled back. “I’m sorry.” You whispered softly as you stared up at Dean a deep frown on his face as he let his hands slips away from your body. “Nothing to apologize for, sweetheart.” Dean reached out to you and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. His smile returned when you didn’t flinch away from him.  “It’s going to take time remember? And I’m willing to wait, no matter how long it takes.” 

“Thank you.” You returned his smiled. Your moment was interrupted by a cough from behind you drawing yours and Dean’s attention to Sam. “Guys, I hate to interrupt but we need to find Rowena.” Sam brought you both back to the case at hand. You both nodded and headed towards the Impala.

6 months later:

Another three months had passed since your breakdown with Dean in the alleyway.  Things were continuing to get better but still not back to pre-demon-Dean days.  You didn’t think you would ever go back to being the same person you had been, but maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. Dean was being true to his word and keeping a comfortable distance from you which now included being able to occasionally put his arm around you and the two of you had shared a few more hugs.  The hugs started a little awkward but had gradually gotten easier and even comforting at times.  You continued, however, to get your own motel room anytime the three of you were on the road. You just couldn’t bring yourself to stay in the same room with Dean all night, even with Sam there. 

One thing for sure that had not changed was you all still hated dealing with witches.  Rowena was turning out to be a pain in the ass and add that to the stress of trying to find a way to remove the Mark of Cain from Dean left the three of you running ragged.  

The three of you were driving back towards the bunker when Dean had pulled into a motel parking lot in the middle of some little one-horse town that you didn’t know the name of. 

“I’m beat.” He grumbled as he rubbed his hand down his face. “Let’s just crash here for the night and we can head home in the morning.”

You and Sam grunted in agreement, both of you just as tired as Dean. Sam peeled himself out of the passenger seat and headed to the motel office to get your rooms while you and Dean waited in the car.  A few minutes later Sam returned.

“Bad news.” Sam huffed as he slid back into the car. “They only have one room available.”

“Shit.” Dean mumbled. “Guess we’ll have to push on to the next town and”.

“Ugh,” you cut Dean off. “Let’s just stay here. I’m too tired.”

Dean turned around in the front seat so he could look at you. “Are you sure sweetheart? We can drive a little further.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You waved him off. “You’re tired, I’m tired, Sam’s tired.  Let’s just go get some sleep.” You opened the back door and slid out before either brother could say anything else.

Sam went back to the office and paid for the room before heading back to the car where the three of you grabbed your duffels and headed into the motel room.

You exited the bathroom to find both of the boys had changed into their sweats for the night and had each taken up residence on one of the queen size beds.  You suddenly were unsure about this arrangement.  You had always slept in the same bed with Dean when the three of you were on the road but now that didn’t feel like the best option and you weren’t sure what to do.  Sam and Dean both looked up at you as you stood staring between the two beds.  Dean looked at you with almost hopeful eyes and Sam’s eyes just seemed sad as he gave you a small smile. 

“You can sleep in my bed.” Sam offered, nodding to the empty space at his side. 

You immediately turned and looked at Dean to see his reaction. He smiled softly and shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever you are comfortable with darlin’.” 

“Thanks.” You smiled at him before making your way to the empty side of Sam’s bed and crawling in under the covers. You could hear the audible sigh that spilled from Dean’s lips as you made your choice but you knew despite his disappointment he would let you be. 

Two hours had passed. Two hours of tossing and turning. Two hours of staring up at the ceiling. Two hours of listening to both men snore and you were still not asleep. You were so exhausted but you could not fall asleep. It didn’t help anything that you were sleeping with the giant Winchester. Sam was all arms and legs and he was definitely used to sleeping in a bed by himself by the way he sprawled out. You found yourself inching closer and closer to your edge of the bed as he tossed and turned as well.  You were on the very edge of the bed the next time he rolled over and with a thud his arm landed across your shoulder. You sighed and grumbled as you rolled out from under the large arm and stood up. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you looked at Sam on his stomach almost spread eagle across the bed. 

You were so tired you contemplated sleeping on the floor when your eyes moved over to Dean in the opposite bed. Dean was quietly lying on one side of his bed leaving the opposite side completely empty. You stared for several long minutes at the empty portion of the bed. You bit at your bottom lip and shifted nervously on your feet. 

“Screw it.” You mumbled under your breath before letting your bare feet carry you silently across the room.  You eased yourself into Dean’s bed as slowly and quietly as you could so as not to wake him up.  Within minutes you finally drifted off to sleep.   

‘Why was it so hot?’ you thought to yourself as awoke the next morning. Your eyelids were still too heavy to open but you were practically sweating.  Did you fall asleep next to a furnace? You squirmed as you tried to move to fling the blankets off your body but you found you couldn’t move. Something very heavy was draped over your shoulders, waist and legs.  Your eyes slowly blinked open and you realized the heaviness holding you in place were Dean.  One of his large muscled arms was under your head and wrapped around your shoulders while his other arm had a tight grip around your waist holding you close to his chest. Both of your legs were tangled with his effectively trapping you flush against his very warm, very hard body.  You couldn’t see his face as your own was buried in the crook of his neck with his chin resting on top of your head.  You could tell he was still sleeping by the even soft breaths that blew lightly against your hair.  You tried very slowly and very gently to dislodge your body from being entwined with his but you couldn’t budge an inch. You tried for several minutes before Dean’s very gravelly sleep laden voice cut through the silence of the room.

“You really need to stop with the squirming sweetheart.” 

“Dean.” You whined softly into his neck as you wiggled to once more try to free yourself.  

“I’m serious darlin’, you keep that up and I am not going to be responsible for my actions.” He chuckled softly into your hair. 

You giggled in response. “Dean, I’m sweating here. It’s too hot. At least let me move a little.” 

Dean grumbled but loosened his grip allowing you pull back until there was space between your two bodies and you could finally tilt your head up to look into those jade green eyes.  

“Good morning.” You smiled as your bright eyes met his. 

His smile was warm and genuine. “Good morning sweetheart.”  The arm that been around your waist moved to allow Dean to brush a stray strand of hair from your face before he gently stroked your cheek.  “I had almost forgotten how good it felt to wake up next to you.” 

You couldn’t help but to nuzzle softly into his hand on your soft porcelain cheek, your eyes closing briefly as you savored the touch. “Yeah, same here.” 

“You know,” Dean raked his teeth over his bottom lip as his eyes studied your face, “we could do this, every morning. If you want to.”  He chortled softly. “I always did have the best sleep ever with you by my side.”

You returned his smile but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. It made you feel sad that you couldn’t give Dean what he wanted, what he needed. “You know none of this has been because I don’t want to be with you Dean.  I do want this every morning. I do want us to be together. I just don’t know if I can.” 

Dean nodded softly, his hand still gently brushing against your cheek.  “I understand sweetheart, I really do.”  His thumb gently caressed against your bottom lip and your lips parted instinctively. Dean grinned. “You know, um, it’s been a while since we uh, you know, tested your boundaries.” He cleared his throat. “Um, you know, just to see where we are at now.  I mean you didn’t freak out when you woke up with me this morning.”

“True. I didn‘t did I?” You said with an easy smile and this time your eyes sparkled a little with the happiness in that realization. Dean’s thumb gently trailed over your bottom lip once more as he stared down at your mouth. Your lips pursed softly as you kissed the pad his thumb. You watched as Dean’s eyes closed and he mumbled something incoherent under his breath. “Dean?” You whispered softly, suddenly feeling nervous. His eyes opened slowly at the sound of his name. “Kiss me?” You asked almost shyly. 

Dean continued to cup your cheek with his rough calloused hand as he dipped his head towards yours. He was almost hesitant as he lips brushed against your own. The touch was soft, almost feather-light. Your hand moved to curl your small fingers around the wrist of the hand that held your face. You held onto him gently as his lips simply stayed against yours. He was letting you guide this, letting you control what and how much of him you wanted. You pressed your lips to his more firmly and he returned with the same amount of pressure. He kissed you tenderly, carefully. You sighed contentedly as your lips parted and you gently suckled at his bottom lip bringing a soft moan to his throat. The warm softness of your tongue found his plump bottom lip and you tasted him as your hand left his wrist to stroke along his forearm and over his broad shoulder until your fingers played down along the hard muscles of his back. 

Dean’s heart was racing in his chest at the feel of your fingers dancing along his skin and the taste of you on his lips. His tongue moved with your own, finally dipping between your soft full lips into the sweetness of your mouth.  You moaned against his lips softly and deepened the kiss until you were both breathless when you finally pulled apart. “Y/n.” Dean moaned your name softly as his hand slid down your cheek and over the curve of your shoulder to settle against your waist. The heat pooled between your legs at the sound of your name falling from his lips. You pressed your thighs together needing friction as the desire that you hadn’t felt in so long made you quiver.  

Your eyes locked on his glassy green orbs that held so much need and emotion in that one moment. “More Dean.” The plea came out soft and raspy. Dean trembled with the effort to hold himself back as the plea fell from your lips. He wanted nothing more than to tear your clothes off and feel your body under him as he finally made you his again but he knew he couldn’t do that. Not yet.  “Are you sure, sweetheart?” 

You nodded your head in reply not sure if you could form words. You leaned in to press your lips to Dean’s once more but to your surprise Dean pulled back.   “I need to hear you say it, Y/n.” Dean’s eyes searched your face. “You know I want you, darlin’ but I need to know you are okay.”

You nodded once more before you found your voice. “I’m okay Dean. I’m sure.” Dean‘s lips met yours once more, the kiss passion filled but easy. His tongue danced with yours and you moaned against him as he rolled you both so you were on your back under him. The kiss was needy and desperate but not hard, not demanding. Your hands were at his waist pulling him closer to your body as you melted into the kiss.  Your body was writhing gently under him and all he had done was kiss you.  With soft but precise movements Dean slowly began to undress you, taking his time with each piece of clothing making sure to give you time to protest or stop him but you nodded each time he paused until you were fully naked underneath him. 

He stared down at your naked flesh. His eyes drinking in every inch. “So beautiful.” He whispered softly. He was hesitant as his fingertips reached out to gently stroke your flesh. His touch was so soft, so careful, and so tender, as if he thought you were fine porcelain under him and he was afraid you could break at any moment. His fingers traced softly and slowly over your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts before letting his warm touch gently trace around each hard nipple making your back arch and a soft whine fall from your lips.  He grinned down at you as he watched your breasts rise and fall. Your nipples grew to taut peaks as the pads of his fingers grazed the pebbles in the lightest of touches. You reached out for him, wanting to touch him, wanting to feel his warm skin against you.  

“Let me make you feel good sweetheart.” Dean’s voice was low and thick as he gently caught your outstretched hands in his own. He wasn’t rough but instead gentle as he guided your arms back down to your sides and placed them softly against the mattress.  You nodded softly, biting at your bottom lip as he resumed the exploration of your body like this was the first time.  

His hands moved to the spot they had left off, gently teasing fingertips against your hard nipples before letting his hands slide down across your abdomen and sides.  Dean’s strong hands played over your flesh. Rough palms skimming along your hips and down your thighs, touching you everywhere but where you wanted him the most.  

“Dean.” You whined as your hips rose at his touch.  

Dean just smiled down at you before lowering his head and kissing you tenderly. His lips began to follow the same path his hands had. His mouth moved to leave warm wet kisses over your jaw and down your neck. His tongue lapped softly along your heated skin as he reached your collarbone. A light graze of teeth made you shiver as he made his way to your right breast. He lavished the hard bud with his tongue before gently sucking it into his mouth making you gasp with the pleasure.  His mouth moved languidly, showering your breast with affection before kissing and licking his way to your left breast and repeating the process.   You squirmed under his expert ministrations. Your body was alight with desire, every nerve tingling in a way it never had before. Your hands tunneled through the short scruff of Dean’s hair as he kissed his way lower down your body. His tongue teasing a wet trail over your skin until his warm breath washed against the apex of your thighs. 

“Please Dean.” You whimpered. 

“Patience, sweetheart.” Dean looked up at you as he settled himself between your creamy thighs. “I’m going to take care of you, I promise.” 

Dean was definitely a man of his word and you knew that.  His lips gently kissed the soft flesh of you inner thighs, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin as he inched his way painfully slow to where you needed him the most.  His warm breath washed across your slick folds before his tongue licked a soft line from your tight entrance to your throbbing clit.  The sensation made your hips rise from the bed and deep moan to fill your throat.  Dean smiled as you slowly began to rock against his mouth as his tongue delved into your tight heat. He moaned at the taste of you on his tongue, a sweetness he never thought would grace his lips again.  His took his time bringing you to the edge again and again as he alternated between driving his tongue in and out of your heat to flicking and sucking at your pulsing clit.  

Your head was rolled back against the bed as your hands fisted in the short hair atop his head as you moaned and cried out for him. “Please Dean please. Please make me cum.”  

Dean groaned as your pleas echoed in the room.  His lips latched onto your clit as he gently slid two fingers into your dripping pussy.  His fingers worked hard back and forth as they stroked your slick walls.  The digits curled inside of you until you were bucking against him.  

“That’s it baby.  Cum for me sweetheart.” Dean moaned against your soaked petals as he felt your walls flutter around his thrusting fingers. 

The fire between your legs spread out until it felt like it engulfed your entire body.  Your head snapped back as you cried out your release and your body quaked with the force of your orgasm. You called out Dean’s name over and over again as you rode out your climax until your body fell limp against the bed.  

Slowly Dean eased his fingers from your slippery core.  He placed a tender kiss to your now sensitive clit before sliding up your body.  Your chest rose and fell against his as you tried to calm your rapid breathing.  Dean grinned down at you as he peppered your face with soft kisses until you were giggling under him.

  “You are so beautiful baby.” He gently stroked your flushed cheek as his lips pressed lovingly to your own. “I love seeing you smile again.”  

Your own hands moved to cup his scruffy cheeks as you brought his lips back to your own.  “I love you Dean.” You whispered softly against his lips before you kissed him hard.  Dean moaned into your mouth as your tongue pushed past his lips and into his mouth. You took control then, your hands leaving his face to push at his shoulders as your hips rose over him and you coaxed him onto his back.  

“I love you too.” Came Dean’s gruff breathy reply as your lips finally left his.  You grinned down into his smiling eyes, watching as they crinkled at the corners as he looked up at you. 

You bit at your bottom lip as your hands slid down the broad expanse of his muscled chest. Your fingers played along his skin, tracing each ripple of muscle and every hard line until your hands reached the waist of his sweatpants. You gave him a mischievous grin as you hooked your fingers into the waistband and gave a hard tug.  Dean quirked an eyebrow up at you and chuckled softly as he raised his hips allowing you to tug both his pants and boxer briefs down at one time.  

“You sure about this sweetheart? We don’t have to.” Dean’s smile turned to a frown as he looked up at you, the worry evident on his face.  ’You know I want to but we don’t have to do this now.”

“I want you Dean.” You smiled at him reassuringly as you leaned back over and kissed him again.  His moan vibrated against your lips as your soft hand found his hard length and your fingers curled around him.  You slowly and softly stroked along his cock. You took your time as your hand twisted around his cock, moving up and down until his hips were rising off the bed and he was almost whimpering with need.  

“Shit Y/n.  Please baby. I need you.” He moaned as your hand continued it’s teasingly languid pace.  

You smirked as you looked down at him, seeing his brows furrowed, the way he bit his bottom lip, and the absolute need in his eyes.  You shifted your body so you could straddle his thick thighs with your shapely legs. Your eyes locked on his as you guided the thick swollen head of his cock to your tight slick entrance and slowly began to lower yourself.  Your hands braced yourself against his chest as you took him inch by inch into your clutching cunt.  Your moan of pleasure mixed with Dean’s soft groan as your firm ass finally rested against his thighs. Your walls fluttered as they stretched around his hardness and you could feel his cock pulsing inside of you.  Dean’s hands reached out for your own and he laced his fingers with yours as you both just took the time to relish your bodies being locked together.  

Dean used his grip on your hands to pull your body forward, bending you at the waist until your chest was pressed against his own.  His arms wrapped tightly around you as his lips found yours.  Slowly he began to thrust under you, short soft thrusts that sent jolts of pleasure coursing through the both of you until your hips began to match his rhythm.  Your mouth molded against his, you clung to his chest as his arms held you tight, and your hips ground against one another.  The two of you moved in perfect steady rhythm.  It was slow, gentle, and full of emotion, this was more than sex, this was love.  

In one graceful movement, Dean rolled you both so you were under him. He kept his arms laced around your back, strong hands sliding up to curl around your shoulders and hold you close to him.  

Dean’s eyes closed and a moan rumbled deep in his chest as he slowly began to grind his hips against your own. You tightened your thighs around his waist, your heels digging into the flesh of his ass as your hips rolled to match his.  Time seemed to slow to a stop, every move was slow, easy, languid, and perfect.  His body fit perfect into yours and the two of you melded together as one.  Hands caressed flesh, lips kissed, and your bodies bucked together.  

Dean’s low gruff voice was soft as he whispered and moaned against the curve of your neck. “You are so perfect baby.” He ground his hips harder to yours as you moaned beneath him. “So beautiful.  You feel so good.” His words whispered against your lips this time as he kissed you. “I’ll never hurt you again.  I love you Y/N.” 

“Dean.” You gasped against his lips as you body began to quake under him. The constant drag of his cock back and forth between your slick clutching walls pushing you closer and closer to the precipice of ecstasy. “I love you.” You panted. Your hands clutched at his back, nails raking lightly along his skin as your back arched under his, thrusting your breasts to press to his chest. 

Dean felt your body tensing under him.  The sweet velvet walls of your pussy tightening around his throbbing cock pulling a deep groan from his throat.  His hips began to falter as your cry of release echoed in the room. Your body bucked to his as you came undone around him.  He held you tight to his body as his own release shook him to his core and he came with a roar of your name.  You clung to each other as you both rode out wave after wave of pleasure as one until it felt like you were both floating.  

You stayed locked together, your bodies entwined as you came down from your high.  Dean returned to kissing over every inch of your face from your forehead down to your lips and chin as he confessed his love for you as well as his promises to always keep you safe.  You giggled under him as you returned the kisses and sweet sentiments.  

With a whimper of protest from you, Dean dislodged his body from yours to lie at your side.  He was quick to pull you against him and cradle you to his body. “That is how your first time should have been darlin’.” Dean’s green eyes met yours and you saw the shine of tears welling in the jade orbs.  

“Dean.” Your hand cupped his scruffy cheek. You weren’t sure what to say.  You knew Dean would never forgive himself and no words you could say would make it better for him.

“I mean it baby.  I’ll never hurt you again and I’ll never let anyone else hurt you.” He smiled as he looked into your beautiful eyes.

“I know Dean.” You returned his smile as your lips sought his out once again.  He kissed you lovingly as his hand stroked lightly over your soft skin.  As the kiss ended, you buried your face into the curve of his neck and snuggled close to his warm body.  

You both hummed a sigh of contentment as you snuggled together.  The morning was beautiful and everything you had imagined being with Dean would be before the demon had come into the picture.  

Dean’s phone chirped to life bringing you both out of your post coital haze and Dean groaned as he rolled over to grab it from the nightstand.  He chuckled as he read the text from Sam. 

Is it safe for me to come back now? I’ll bring breakfast.  

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Well since he is bringing food.”  

Dean laughed and messaged his brother back, giving him the all clear.   You and Dean reluctantly climbed out of bed.  By the time Sam came back you were both showered and dressed.  Sam grinned as he walked into the room and his eyes landed on you and Dean caught up in a tight embrace and sharing a loving kiss.  

Things were finally right in his family again, or as right as they could be for a Winchester, and it gave him hope.