#i hate these long posts pls just fix the formatting staff i'm begging you

[ozonecologne]

13.17 coda

Welp tumblr still hasn’t fixed its textpost formatting issues so here’s another long coda post :’)

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---

It reached not for an anchor, not for Solomon’s seal, no. In the moments before its inevitable doom, it reached for its mate.

When Ophelia Avila began the unholy chant that would to banish it back to where it came from, that tentacled god dragged Sandy – well, what was formerly Sandy anyway – back with it through the rift like it was nothing. It wasn’t an attempt to pull itself through to the promised land, but a desperate grab for the familiar, for the beloved and the dearly, deeply missed. It forced her back to a world that has been emptied, and she screamed. At the top of her borrowed lungs, the god trapped inside the fragile body of a human being wailed and cried until her being shook with it. Maybe she knew what she was going back to. Maybe she was aware of what she would lose. This world was a “delicious” one, ripe for their taking, and neither of them would ever see it again. Her hands flexed and splayed as the tentacles wrapped tighter around her body, fingers straining in the sleeves of their skin and muscle and like her very bones were trying to escape, tendons snapping in liberation.

From his position on that cold, flat altar, Dean could see Sandy’s eyes before the rip finally closed again. They were wet with tears, but wide with relief. Love has a way of undoing us all, even the gods.

The two of them were going home together, but they were also going home to starve. There’s nothing for them back there, on their side. Everything is here.

And Dean has always believed in a love that saves, but that just – how could one make the choice for the other? Damn the both of you because you just couldn’t bear to be alone? It seems like a fate worse than –

“We should wait for Cas,” Sam grumbles, dumping their ingredients into a bowl.

Dean’s hands itch. Sam’s not grinding the fruit into the mortar fast enough. He thinks about grabbing the pestle and finishing off the spell himself.

“It’ll be fine,” Dean promises, holding himself back.

Sam huffs and grits his teeth, but he knows better than to disagree with his brother when he’s got his heart set on something.

While Sam works on unraveling the very fabric of time and space, Dean eyes the empty spaces in the bunker. He imagines that preternatural glow cast from the rift blinding through their shelter, the only safe place any of them know, and projecting itself onto the books, the walls, the floors worn down by so many footprints. This is home. They are desanctifying it by doing this here, but there is nowhere else for them to go. Things come through the rift in both directions, and they need to be contained. The sheer amount of danger in this mission is not to be taken lightly, nor does Dean underestimate the severity of his decision to go this alone.

I could go with you.

Dean glances down at his watch, tick tick ticking away.

“Come on, Sam. Daylight’s – ”

“Burning, yeah, I know,” Sam snaps back.

Dean raps his knuckles on the table and nods. He tries to swallow the growing lump in his throat and fails spectacularly.

This is a risk none of them are really willing to take. But if they don’t do this now, while Castiel’s not around, there would be no stopping him. He’d throw himself into yet another celestial war zone where he is a valuable target. He’d kick and scream his way to certain death, all for Dean, always for Dean. Because Dean has to go, he has to do this for his mother and for his family and for himself, and he knows what Castiel would say if he were here. It’s what he always says when Dean gets ready to throw himself in the line of fire.

I could go with you.

Dean chews the inside of his lip until he tastes blood and eyes up Ketch next, lurking at the other end of the table like a poltergeist. Like a shadowy question mark.

They can spare Ketch. Dean doesn’t care if Ketch dies across the rift.

Sam, though. Cas.

There isn’t a chance in hell that he’s going to be the monster here.

He is not going to be the one to decide that they die for him.

Sam’s still taking his time, so Dean takes some initiative. He yanks a couple of hairs out from the back of his head and tosses them into their bowl. “Something that’s been there, right?”

Sam doesn’t look up. He dutifully stirs them into the mix, swirling them together with fruit juice and holy blood.

“Alright,” Sam announces, as the contents of the bowl starts to glow. He still doesn’t meet Dean’s eyes as he mumbles, “Remember: it’s only twenty-four hours.”

Dean looks down at his watch again. Syncs it up and sets a timer. Sam holds the seal over the bowl and begins his chant, and then they’re off.

And Dean, predictably, fights off the tears in his eyes.

The good thing about working with Ketch is that he’s sharp, catches on quick, and adapts. It’s what you do when you don’t have cumbersome things like a personality or attachments to slow you down, probably. 

The bad thing about working with Ketch is that he talks. And he also has a wealth of illegally-obtained information to use against Dean at absolutely any time he wants, no matter how inconvenient.

“Your pet angel will surely be cross about this,” Ketch observes, as they trek through ash-covered hills. “Will I have incurred his wrath as well, then? Shall I seek protection from him when this is over?”

Dean grimaces and spits, the hot dry air turning his tongue into sandpaper. “First off, you shut the fuck up about that. And B, if this world doesn’t waste you, then I sure as shit hope that Cas does.”

Ketch huffs, dragging his feet behind Dean. “Wonderful. Out of the frying pan…”

Dean, agitated, snaps. “Yeah, look. About that. Let’s get something straight, Ketch: I see right through you, ok?”

Ketch freezes for a second, which is interesting, but his tone is clipped and cold when he asks, “What do you mean?”

Dean’s lip curls, but he doesn’t turn around to face him. He doesn’t really want to see how Ketch’s face might change when he says, “You’re not just running from Asmodeus. You’re sweet on Mom.”

At Dean’s back, Ketch says nothing.

“You collapse under the weight of your tactical gear back there or what?” Dean calls back.

“Preparedness is next to godliness,” Ketch recites.

Dean runs a hand through his sweaty hair, scattering the ash that has collected there like newly fallen snow. “If you think I’m letting you within a hundred feet of her after what you did, you’re dead wrong.”

Again, no reply.

Dean nods. Silence is good. Silence is efficient. Better for the both of them.

But Ketch, like with most things, has to ruin it. His voice is quiet and deadly when it finally resurfaces, a mile or so deeper into charred and sparse forests.

“Perhaps it would be best if we simply refrained from judging one another’s hearts.”

Dean scoffs, genuinely amused. “Heart. Like you’ve got one.”

“If it bleeds, it bleeds,” Ketch quips. “Despite my very best efforts and though it pains me to admit it: I am still human. Just like you, Dean.”

Ketch’s hand comes up to grip Dean’s shoulder. Dean spins and knocks it off with a glare that means business, pressed nearly nose to nose and ready to throw down.

Ketch meets his eyes without a problem, with no hesitation. But for the first time, Dean sees a little bit of fear there. Maybe the same kind he saw in Sandy before she got pulled through space – fear of the end. The hopelessness of doom.

Ketch wants him to see it.

“And I still feel,” he admits.

They stand there, in this broken and deserted wasteland, assessing one another. Someone has to break first, and Dean swallows his pride to make sure that it’s him. He doesn’t have time for this bullshit.

Dean shakes his head as he turns back around, hitching his go bag higher up onto his shoulder. “Well, I hope you feel it when one of us finally stabs you through the chest,” he grumbles.

Ketch sighs and follows in Dean’s footsteps. “If your angel is one of mercy, he’ll make sure that I don’t.”

“He’s not really big on that, it turns out.”

“He’s shown you plenty over the years, despite your obvious shortcomings.”

Dean can’t help flashing a dirty smirk over his shoulder. “I’m the exception, buddy. Not the rule,” he explains.

Ketch rolls his eyes, and then they’re back to not talking again. Dean needs to conserve his energy anyway; he can’t be wasting his breath on this bastard who thinks he knows something about the human heart.

If he’s lucky, Dean will slither in through the backdoor of this nightmare, grab Mom and Jack, and then duck through the rift again before Cas even notices he’s gone. Bring home the win. Easy.

(But when has a Winchester ever been lucky, anyway?)

((And especially, that is, in love.))

The rift is still open, so there is a point of contact that still exists between his world and this one. The line, as it were, is still open. And though he tries to avoid praying so as to keep Castiel in the dark for as long as possible, Dean secretly hopes that the angel can hear him when he recalls those famous words uttered as a hostage in an inhospitable bind:

I’m doing this for you. I’m doing this because of you.

Don’t be too mad, he tacks on. Just in case. Please understand.

Being in Apocalypse world is kind of like being in Purgatory again, and it makes Dean a little sentimental. He rags on Castiel a lot for doing stupid things, but he thinks he can understand that impulse a little better now that he’s thinking about it with a clear head (when he has time to think about things here other than survival, that is). This is exactly the kind of thing that Dean would be furious about if Castiel pulled it himself, so he gets it. He really would rather be stupid than selfish.

This is just the way they are, he supposes. He hopes that one day - if both of them can manage to survive long enough - they can get to a point where this stupid self-sacrificing doesn’t sting as freshly as it did the very first time. Because no matter how often they seem to fall into this pattern, it just doesn’t stop eating away at them. It’s only been a few hours, but Dean can already feel a weight settling down on his chest during his time apart from Castiel that he’s sure will stick around for the duration. He misses the easy trust and coordination of his brother in arms, he misses the playful conversation of his best friend, he misses the soft touches in stolen moments of his lover. Separation never gets easier.

In fact, it might just get even worse with time.

He doesn’t really blame “Sandy” for doing what she did. After a hundred years apart, he’d be tempted to kill, too.

They’ve done it before, after all. Kill for one another. Kill to find one another. Kill to bring the other one home.

Dean knows his limits well.

But every choice comes with a price, and missing Cas, missing home to go it alone, is his.

---

CODA TAGLIST

# - C

@7faerielights​ @abbadonttouchme​ @anaturalsuperfan​ @angelwingsandhunterdreams​ @anironundomiel​ @arandomindividual​ @armellin​ @athene-noctua08​ @ayremis​ @bilibiche​ @bold-sartorial-statement​ @boykingdom​ @boysinperil​ @burntblackfeathers​ @cabinboyjackles​ @calliopecookiejar​ @captainhaterade​ @carnilia​ @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you​ @casolantern​ @cassbutt-and-the-righteousbi​ @castielfallenangelwinchester​ @castielsmoon​ @casttielle​ @chevrolangels​ @chill-legilimens​ @cloud-dreamer​ @coldbroke​ @convallariini​ @ctrl-alt-destiel​

D - H

@darthshreydar​ @dauntless-dean​ @deanismypatronass​ @deanmonsandangels​ @deans-top-13-zepp-traxx​ @deanwinchcester-archive​ @dellez​ @destiel-aye​ @destiel73​ @destielrose​ @destielsangel​ @divineinterventioning​ @donttouchmyfrenchtoast​ @dramaqueenrolf​ @dream-and-slash​ @ecbeau​ @eccentricas​ @fandomsfeelsandcrap​ @fandomfeelswithhellagayotps​ @fangirlingtodeath513​ @freedomcraziness​ @fromflametofire​ @gabbymcauliffe​ @gaelicblue​ @geekily-yours​ @gentle-hands19​ @ggonaks​ @godshipsit​ @goodtidingsdean​ @guusana​ @hanooon1997​ @hotpotatosack​

I - Q

@i-lostmy-sammy​ @ialwayscomewhenyoucall​ @iamaqt314​ @ilovelucey​ @imthewarmpenguininthemiddle​ @itsfunnierinenochian​ @iwaslazy​ @jaguarw0lf​ @jamalona​ @jeanjeaniethings​ @jenmdixon​ @lanaserra​ @lapotatoqueen​ @livingonaprayerstiel​ @lmejia13​ @mattory-reylo-shipper-offical​ @meadowsofcas​ @melioristcas​ @melmassacre​ @mistymarvelgirl​ @mnwood​ @natmoose​ @nieveskaia​ @ninamariiee​ @njk13093​ @nubismosher​ @paige-losechester​ @papayastems​ @patrcolvs​ @peacemturner​ @protagonist-influence​

R - T

@randomfandoms153​ @reader-meg​ @reading-greek​ @rollsapple​ @rubbishbin​ @samhyland​ @samikitten​ @sammyzwifi​ @santamadredidios​ @saywhatjessie​ @selahbela​ @sensitivelass33​ @seraphmisha​ @shadowpaintedrose​ @shehungthemoon​ @sherlpotternatural​ @snovolovac​ @spnramen​ @starbentone​ @starcastlesinthesky​ @sunnshine0510​ @sunshine-hunters​ @super-powerful-queen-slayyna​ @supercasifras​ @supernim​ @sup3r-pott3r-lock3d​ @swax​ @tankewinchester​ @tardisheart134​ @teaandjumpers​ @thatcolourfulsomething​ @thatsuperawkwardgirl​ @thedauntlesshufflepuff​ @theruledangel​ @tricja​

U - Z

@venusdebotticelli​ @waiting-for-chapter-33​ @waywardren​ @who-the-fuck-is-bucky​ @whyjm​ @weathergirl83​ @whitmerule​ @wigglebox​ @wingsandimpalas​ @winchesterwithwings​ @withthedemonblood​ @woefulcas​ @wordstothewisereaders​ @write-nerdy-to-me​ @zolaliz​