#looking at the scene where Cas touches Deans face

[fatecantstopme]

What I'd Give

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader

Summary: When Dean is gravely injured on a hunt, (Y/N) makes a deal to save him--a deal that might just cost her everything.

Warnings: canon violence, swearing, mentions of death/dying. SMUT, dom/sub vibes, choking kink, overstimulation, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V)

You screamed helplessly as you watched your best friend and fellow hunter be thrown from the window across the room. You'd just managed to stab the demon you were fighting a mere second before you heard the breaking of glass.

You yanked the angel blade out of the demon's chest and ran straight towards the demon who'd just tossed your friend out the window. You stabbed the demon in the back, bringing an end to the fight.

You looked out the window and saw the horrific scene three stories down. Your heart clenched in your chest as you raced to the stairs, making it outside in record time.

"Dean!" you cried as you reached his broken body. "No, no, no, no..."

You were almost afraid to touch him--afraid to search for a pulse and not find one. You exhaled sharply and pulled yourself together, placing a firm hand against his neck. You could feel a very weak pulse beneath your fingertips and you knew he was in trouble.

The fall had certainly broken some bones and he likely had internal injuries of some kind. The glass from the window had sliced his skin in a million places, and you were worried he would have severe head trauma as well.

Normally, you would call out to Castiel and he would come running to save Dean, but this wasn't a normal day. Cas had been missing in action for weeks, and neither you nor the Winchesters knew where he was.

Dean's safety--his survival--depended solely on you. The two of you had been hunting alone, while Sam was out helping Garth on a different hunt. You'd hunted together countless times, but neither of you had ever been this seriously injured.

You knew he was dying--as surely as if there was a neon sign screaming "death!" above his head. You couldn't stand the thought of losing him, so you made a decision that would change your life.

"Anyone who's listening, I need your help," you called out. "Please...I will do anything...just save him."

You waited in silence for a few moments, hoping against hope someone would hear your call and take pity on you. You weren't exactly on good terms with most angels, but you couldn't help but hope at least one of them would care.

You heard the soft flap of wings that always signaled the arrival of an angel and you looked up hopefully. You inhaled sharply when your eyes met the glowing red eyes of the man who had come to rescue you--or should you say, archangel.

"Well hello, (Y/N). It's nice to see you again."

"Lucifer," you hissed lowly.

"In the flesh!"

"What are you doing here?"

"I heard your call," he said simply. "And well, let's be honest, no one else is coming to help you."

"Did you come here to gloat?"

"Of course not. Even I'm not cruel enough to find joy in the death of Dean Winchester."

"Then why did you come?"

"To save him, obviously."

Surprise lit up your face. Out of all the responses you'd expected, that hadn't been on the list. "Pardon?"

Lucifer smiled darkly. "For a small fee, of course."

"Ahh," you acknowledged. "That sounds more like it. What do you want?"

"Nothing too extravagant."

"Lucifer..." you growled.

"As you can see, this vessel isn't doing so well." He gestured to himself and you had to admit, he looked like absolute shit. "In fact, it's dying...which means I'm in need of a new one."

"Absolutely not," you said instantly. "He would never say yes to you."

Lucifer smirked. "I wasn't referring to him."

Your eyes widened. "I'm not an archangel vessel," you whispered.

"No, but you are a vessel. And I think you're strong enough to contain me long enough to find me a better one."

You swallowed thickly. There was no way you were going to agree to this...you knew what being an archangel's vessel would do to you and you weren't exactly interested in being strapped to a nuclear bomb.

"No," you said firmly.

"Suit yourself," he said with a shrug. "But just remember, Dean's death will be on your hands now."

You exhaled in defeat as you looked down at the man in your arms. You knew he was close to death--no hospital would be able to save him. Lucifer was your only option.

"Save him first," you whispered.

Lucifer smirked, knowing he'd won. "I would, (Y/N), but this vessel is simply too weak. I would need your body in order to save him."

You looked up into his dark eyes and considered his words. "I don't trust you."

"You would be a fool to trust me after all we've been through. However, I need you...and I need Dean alive and well to help me find an archangel vessel. Possessing you is a good motivator for him."

You clenched your jaw as you thought about your options. It took you mere moments to realize you didn't have any. You would rather die than allow Dean to...so your decision was made in an instant.

"Fine," you murmured softly. You looked up at the monster standing before you and exhaled slowly. "Yes," you breathed.

Lucifer wasted no time--immediately exiting his vessel and entering your body, taking over in an instant.

It was painful, feeling his energy within you, and you knew with absolute certainty you wouldn't be surviving this--no way in hell.

To your surprise, you were fully aware of everything happening around you. You could still see and hear--but you had no control over your body in any way.

Lucifer--you--reached out to Dean and touched him. Your palms began to glow and you watched the various wounds on his body heal quickly. His bright green eyes slowly blinked open and he looked up at you in surprise and confusion.

"What happened?" he groaned.

"You got tossed out a window," your voice said, though it was not you speaking.

Dean sat up and rubbed at his head. He looked down at himself, clearly surprised by his lack of serious injuries. "I fell three stories down..."

You nodded.

"How am I not dead?"

You felt your lips curl into a smile--a slightly cruel smile you knew was not your own. "You're welcome."

Dean's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What?"

Unbeknownst to you, your eyes began to glow red, alerting Dean to the presence of someone else in your body--and there was only one creature you knew whose eyes glowed red.

"Lucifer?" Dean yelled angrily.

"The one and only," he replied.

"How the hell...why are you...where's (Y/N)?"

"Oh she's right here," he said with a smile, tapping the side of your head. "Watching and listening like a little creep."

"Well it is my head, you asshole," you mumbled.

"Doesn't mean it's not creepy," Lucifer's voice hissed inside your mind.

You didn't like the idea that Lucifer could hear your thoughts and speak to you like that...and it made you wonder what else he could see within your mind.

"Everything," he teased darkly.

"Fuck."

"Get the hell out of her body," Dean growled.

"Not a chance, buck-o. (Y/N) was kind enough to invite me in, so I think I'll stay a while."

Dean pulled an angel blade out of his back pocket and pointed it at you. You knew he would never use it if it meant killing you too. It was an idle threat and Lucifer knew it.

Lucifer simply laughed. "You're not going to use that, so put it away."

"Get out of her and I won't have to."

"Oh please, you won't kill her."

Dean's expression remained impassive, but you could see his resolve waning. You knew him too well to miss the small tells. Unfortunately, that meant Lucifer knew him just as well.

"Let's make this easy on ourselves," he began. "Everything (Y/N) knows, I know. Every memory, every thought, every feeling, everything. So put the damn blade down before I have to break your arm."

You could see the anger on Dean's face, but he lowered the blade and slipped it back inside his jacket. "Why the hell did she invite you in?"

"You were about 5 minutes from death and she couldn't save you."

"So what, she called out to you?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"She called out to everyone...I'm just the only one who responded." You felt your eyes glance around in slight concern. "Speaking of, we should probably get out of here, just in case."

Dean nodded and lead the way to the Impala, which was parked a short distance away. You got into the passenger seat like usual and you saw Dean tense up at your proximity. He clearly didn't like the idea of the Devil riding shotgun.

"So why did you heal me?"

"I need your help," Lucifer admitted.

"What makes you think I'd ever help you?"

"I knew you wouldn't, which is why I convinced (Y/N) to let me have her body for a little while."

"Convinced?"

"I may have told her a little white lie--that my old vessel was too weak for me to save you. She didn't exactly offer herself up, but she didn't fight very hard when she realized I was her only option."

"You slimy son of a bitch," you growled.

"I'm the devil, (Y/N). What did you expect?"

"You son of a bitch," Dean mumbled, echoing your sentiments. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"I need to find an actual archangel vessel. I'm getting tired of jumping from vessel to vessel...they keep burning out. It's rather tiresome."

"Well you're not touching Sam, or me for that matter."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he insisted. "I know there are others out there, but I need someone with your connections to help me locate one."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "My connections?"

"Well, Bobby Singer's connections, really...but the best way to him is through you, and the best way to you is through her."

Dean exhaled angrily. You knew he was mad at you just as much as he was mad at Lucifer. You were surprised he hadn't given you an earful yet, even with Lucifer listening in.

"Fine," Dean grumbled. "But the moment we find you a vessel, I want you out of her body. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly," Lucifer answered.

"Now just sit there quietly until we get to Bobby's, understand? I want absolute silence."

"Well that's boring--"

"I can't stand hearing you speak with her voice, okay? So shut up."

Lucifer smirked, but fell silent, deciding instead to annoy you.

"He's mad at you, isn't he?"

"I said yes to you...of course he's mad."

"Does he know?"

"Know what?"

"How you feel about him?"

"I would really like you to shut the hell up now, Lucifer," you hissed.

"But I'm so bored," he whined.

"I don't give a damn and neither does Dean. It's about 2 hours to Bobby's place...can you be silent for 2 hours?"

"Fine," he grumbled. "It'll give me more time to dig around in your brain anyway..."

"Shit--no!"

You tried to shut him out of your mind as best as you could, but you could still feel him rooting around in your head...making himself at home and digging into memories and thoughts and feelings that were never meant to be shared with another soul.

**********

"What an unsightly place," Lucifer grumbled as he--you--followed Dean up the stairs to Bobby's door.

Dean shot an annoyed glare in your direction, but didn't comment.

"Bobby!" he called as he entered the house.

Bobby came into view and offered you both a tired smile. "Hey you two. What brings you to Sioux Falls?"

"We were close by on a hunt and now we need your help," Dean answered.

"Sure. Come on in."

Neither you, nor Lucifer, had said a word of greeting to Bobby, which struck the older man as odd.

"You alright, (Y/N)?"

"Oh I'm just peachy," your voice answered.

Bobby's eyes narrowed at you, immediately noticing your voice was off. Besides, you didn't tend to talk to Bobby like that.

Before Bobby could question you, Dean spoke up. "We need to find an archangel vessel...as fast as possible."

Bobby stared at him for a moment. "Dean, you are an archangel vessel."

"Yeah, well I need one to house the devil--and it ain't gonna be me or Sam."

"Why the hell do you need a vessel for Lucifer?"

Your hand reached out and tapped Bobby on the shoulder. Judging by Bobby's shocked expression, you assumed your eyes were once again glowing red. Bobby quickly took a step back, looking between you and Dean in confusion.

"It's a long story," Dean muttered. "But I don't want him riding shotgun in (Y/N)'s head any longer than necessary, so we need to find him another vessel."

"Preferably before this current one starts to rot from the inside out," Lucifer added.

"Seriously, Lucifer?"

"Well that is essentially what happens, you know. I wouldn't want to damage such a pretty face."

"Oh fuck off," you grumbled.

"Why in god's name would she say yes to you?" Bobby asked angrily.

"To save my life, okay?" Dean snapped. "Look--we don't have time for this. I need your help to find another vessel. Please."

Bobby sighed and crossed the room to his desk, which was covered in books and papers--an organizational system only Bobby understood. He eyed you warily, but he didn't comment on the situation further.

"I assume you know how to find an archangel vessel," Lucifer commented.

"Perhaps you could enlighten me," Bobby responded.

Lucifer sighed and began to tell Bobby what he needed to look for. You ignored the words coming from our own mouth, instead focusing on Dean. You could see how upset he was and it made you feel incredibly foolish. You hated seeing him like this, but you didn't regret your decision. The mere fact he was alive to be angry made this whole thing worth it.

"How long do you think it'll take?" Dean asked, interrupting your thoughts.

"A week or two--maybe a little more," Bobby answered.

Dean looked in your direction, eyeing you with concern. "Will (Y/N) last that long?"

"Might wanna keep it closer to two weeks," Lucifer replied.

"You're lying, aren't you?" you asked quietly.

"Do you want me to tell them the truth?"

You sighed internally. "I think Dean deserves to know."

"A week would be even better," Lucifer said aloud.

Dean stared at you, worry deepening the lines on his face. His gaze traced your face, searching for any signs of deception--or maybe signs of damage.

"Well then," Bobby muttered. "Better get started."

**********

You sat in the corner, feet up on another chair as you watched Dean and Bobby. You could tell both of them were extremely worried, but their focus was on finding another vessel. They didn't have time to dive into their fears for your life.

Lucifer, on the other hand, seemed to think he had all the time in the world. He was quite happy to torture you instead of providing the two hunters with any assistance.

"Why haven't you told Dean?" he asked for what had to be the 1,000th time.

"There's nothing to tell, Lucifer. Would you just back off?"

"You're really no fun, you know that?"

"Good. This isn't supposed to be fun for you."

"I can make it fun."

"I'd really rather you not."

"Too late!" he said gleefully.

You could feel him poking around inside your head again, searching for something he could use to hurt you with--or hurt Dean with. You tried to keep him away from your darkest secrets, from the things you'd never shared with another soul, not even Dean. But you noticed it was getting harder and harder to resist him. You weren't sure if it was because he was so strong or if you were becoming weaker. Either way, it was only a matter of time before Lucifer found something he shouldn't.

Unfortunately for you, that moment came much sooner than you'd anticipated.

"(Y/N)--fuck, I mean Lucifer...can I talk to you outside for a moment?" Dean asked suddenly, rising from his chair and heading outside without waiting for a reply.

"Well this should be fun," you mumbled internally.

"I assure you," Lucifer mocked. "It will be."

You felt your body moving, feet heading after Dean whether you wanted to or not.

Once outside, Dean turned to face you, eyes filled with a multitude of emotions you couldn't stand to see. "I want to talk to (Y/N)."

"Oh come now," Lucifer said. "You know that's not how it works."

"I know you can shut up and take a backseat. So that's what I want."

"Hmm..." Lucifer hummed thoughtfully. "You know, I'd rather not. Besides, (Y/N) doesn't really feel like talking to you right now."

"Fuck you, Lucifer. Let me talk to him!"

"Sorry, sweetheart. Ain't happening."

"Somehow I doubt that," Dean grumbled angrily.

"You can doubt it all you want, but I'm the one physically inside her head. I know what she's thinking and let me tell you, it's not very complimentary of you."

"What?" Dean asked in surprised confusion.

"You have no idea what she really thinks of you, do you?"

"Lucifer, what the hell are you doing?" you growled.

He ignored you, instead focusing on his conversation with Dean.

"She's my best friend," Dean responded. "What more do I need to know?"

Lucifer laughed cruelly. "I'm sorry, that's just too funny. You think she's your best friend?"

You could see the look of hurt cross Dean's face for a moment, but he quickly covered it up.

"Sorry," Lucifer said, laughter subsiding. "It's just hilarious that you think she cares about you that much."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"She's tired of you, Dean. She's tired of your stubbornness, your self-loathing, your reckless behavior. She's tired of everything to do with you. She doesn't care about you--not really, anyway. You annoy the shit out of her, but she puts up with you because she feels like she has to."

You fought with everything you had to overpower Lucifer and take control of your mind and body. Not a single word Lucifer was uttering was true and you desperately wanted to tell Dean the truth.

"Stop fighting, (Y/N). You can't win," Lucifer whispered.

"Stop lying to him and I'll stop fighting," you insisted.

"No. I'm simply having too much fun."

Dean's face was impassive to the average person, but you saw through the mask on his face, and so did Lucifer. "I don't believe you," Dean said softly.

"You don't have to believe me. They're not my words. I'm simply relaying (Y/N)'s thoughts," Lucifer said with a shrug. "Haven't you ever wondered how she puts up with all your shit? You're not exactly walking sunshine, Dean. You're one of the most damaged humans I've ever met."

Dean inhaled deeply. "If she hates me so much, why does she stay?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Neither you nor Dean knew what Lucifer was going to say next...and his words cut deeper than you'd expected them to.

"She's in love with your brother," Lucifer sneered.

"Lucifer, no!" you screamed.

Dean's eyes widened and shock settled onto his face. He turned around, his back to you in an attempt to collect himself.

You fought even harder...you needed to get this son of a bitch out of your body. It felt like you were locked inside your own mind with no way out. Lucifer was too strong and the harder you fought, the weaker you became. You quickly realized the more energy you expended, the stronger he became...there was no use in fighting him.

"You're a monster," you whispered.

"They call me the devil for a reason.'"

You didn't bother responding to him. Your heart was aching for Dean and all you wanted was to comfort him. You knew exactly where his head would be at right now and it was killing you.

He'd always compared himself to Sam--at least as long as you'd known him. He seemed to think Sam was better than him in a lot of ways and certainly more lovable. The mere idea that you agreed with that sentiment...that you loved Sam...it would break him and you knew it.

"Sam is better than you in every way," Lucifer added, stoking the fire. "Why would anyone love you when they could have Sam? He's everything you're not...sure of himself, confident, open and honest. Sam is better for (Y/N) than you could ever be."

Dean turned back around, face a mask of impassiveness once again. "Let's find you a vessel so you can get the hell out of our lives," he said in a low voice. "Besides, I wouldn't want to get in the way of Sam and (Y/N)'s love."

If you'd been capable of crying, you knew the tears would be streaming down your face in that moment. Your heart ached in a way you were unfamiliar with and you hoped Lucifer could feel the pain the same way you did.

"Why?" you whispered.

"Why what?"

"Why'd you say that to him?"

Lucifer laughed. "Simple...I knew it would hurt both of you. You're in love with him and if his reaction was anything to go by, it looks like he feels the same."

"We're both helping you right now. Why can't you just be grateful for 10 fucking minutes?" you hissed.

"Where's the fun in that?"

You knew the question was rhetorical, so you didn't bother responding. Instead, you quietly watched Dean walk away and you knew he was going to lose his shit. You could feel it as clearly as your own emotions.

"Let's follow him," Lucifer said happily.

"Let him take his anger out without an audience," you snapped.

Lucifer ignored you and quietly followed after Dean, keeping a distance to avoid being noticed.

Once Dean was farther away from the house and seemingly alone, he grabbed a crowbar from a nearby bench and began to beat the ever-loving-shit out of a junker car.

If you'd wondered about Dean's feelings for you before (and you had), you didn't wonder anymore. It was clear he cared about you in the same way you cared about him and you hated seeing him in such pain.

You wanted nothing more than to go to him, but Lucifer was much happier standing to the side and watching Dean suffer alone.

"Please," you whispered.

"You can tell him I'm a lying bastard if you manage to survive this."

"You and I both know that's not likely," you sighed quietly. "I don't want him to suffer and I don't want to die with him thinking I hate him."

"Pity. Guess you should have told him sooner..."

"Oh fuck off, Lucifer," you growled.

Lucifer's laughter echoed in your head and you hated him in that moment more than you could even begin to express.

**********

"You alright kid?" Bobby asked Dean when he returned to the house an hour or so later.

Lucifer, and therefore you, had returned shortly after watching Dean fall apart. When he'd dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face, Lucifer had gotten bored and left.

"I'm fine," Dean lied. "Do you have any leads?"

"I've put out my feelers to every person I could think of. I'm sure someone will have something for me soon."

"Did you call Sam?"

Bobby shook his head. "I assumed you did."

"Call him and let him know what's going on. I'm going out."

"Where are you going?"

"Yeah, Dean," Lucifer chimed in, "where are you going?"

"The nearest bar. Don't wait up."

You tried to say his name, but your mouth refused to form the word.

As soon as Dean was out of earshot, Bobby turned his attention to you. "What the hell did you say to him?"

"Me?" Lucifer asked, feigning innocence. "Why would you think I did something?"

"Maybe because you're the devil?" Bobby answered sarcastically.

Lucifer smirked darkly. "I may have poked at all of his insecurities."

Bobby groaned. "You're a son of a bitch, you know that?"

"That's not a nice thing to say about my Father."

Bobby just glared at you and rolled his eyes. He got up and left the room and you assumed he was going to call Sam.

"I second Bobby's comment."

"I wear it like a badge of honor."

You knew exactly what Dean was going to do and it was killing you. He was going to drink until he couldn't feel a thing, pick up some random girl, and fuck her senseless--anything to feel something other than the ache in his chest. You knew him better than he knew himself...but in this moment, you desperately wished you didn't. You would give anything to not know what he was going to do.

**********

Three days later, one of Bobby's sources had a lead on a potential archangel vessel.

Dean hadn't spoken to you or Lucifer unless he absolutely had to. It was too hard to even look at your face and hearing your voice was a thousand times worse.

Sam was still out on a hunt with Garth, but he promised to be there to help as soon as he could.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Bobby asked Dean as the two of you were preparing to leave.

"The less people involved, the better. Stay here in case we need more intel," Dean responded.

"I don't like the idea of you traveling alone with Lucifer."

"I'll be fine."

Bobby didn't believe him anymore than you did, but neither of you commented on it--not that you could have if you'd wanted to.

As you/Lucifer and Dean climbed into the Impala, Dean didn't spare a glance in your direction.

"Isn't this fun?" Lucifer asked. "I've always wanted to go on a roadtrip."

Dean groaned. "What are the chances you'll be quiet during this drive?"

"Slim to none," Lucifer said with a smirk.

The response almost made Dean smile. It sounded like something you would say and technically it was your voice. He had to remind himself you weren't really talking to him--every word out of your mouth was Lucifer.

Dean took off without another word and you silently prayed this lead would pan out. You were extremely tired and it had only been about four days since Lucifer had possessed you.

By this point, you were having a hard time focusing on what was happening in the real world. You were in pain and you could feel your body weakening...you were dying and you knew it. You just hoped Dean didn't notice.

**********

By the time the three of you arrived at your destination, you were feeling terrible. You weren't even sure how much time had passed since you'd left Bobby's. In fact, you were pretty sure you'd fallen asleep very early on.

"It's been about 12 hours," Lucifer told you.

"I slept for 12 hours?"

"You're dying," he said nonchalantly. "So you're going to have a harder time staying awake."

"Great," you whispered sarcastically.

"Lucifer!" Dean growled. "You coming?"

"Of course."

Lucifer followed Dean into a building you assumed was an apartment complex. Sometime during the elevator ride, you must have fallen unconscious again, because when you opened your eyes again, you found yourself standing in a nice apartment.

Dean was talking calmly to a young man who looked moderately terrified.

"Is he the vessel?" you mumbled.

"Yes. I can feel it," Lucifer responded.

"Thank god..."

"I'm sorry, you want me to allow the literal devil to possess me?" the young man practically yelled at Dean. "That's assuming I even believe in the devil."

"Look man," Dean said with surprising calmness. "I know I sound insane, but it's all real. We need an archangel vessel and like it or not, that's you."

"What if I don't want to say yes?"

Dean grabbed him by his collar. "Then the woman he's currently wearing will die...and I will do anything to prevent that." His voice was low, barely above a growl.

The young man looked terrified, eyes wide with fear. "Are you threatening me?" he whispered.

Dean straightened out the guy's shirt and gave him a dark smile. "Of course not."

"So I have a choice?"

Lucifer chuckled. "Don't think for a moment he'll give you an option, kid."

The guy looked at you and you felt terrible for him. You understood his fear and apprehension...and it felt wrong to force Lucifer onto him. This kid didn't deserve it.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you mumbled.

"Too late, (Y/N). Dean knows he's an archangel vessel. There's no way he's going to leave without getting him to say yes."

You wanted to respond--to fight, but you couldn't. You were too weak...too tired. Everything hurt too much.

"What's it like?" the guy asked softly.

"Like being strapped to a rocket," Lucifer said snidely.

Dean shot him an annoyed glance. "You'll be fine. You were meant for this."

The guy's gaze remained fixated on you. "She looks like shit...am I going to look like that?"

Dean finally focused his gaze on your face and you saw the fear flash in his eyes. He could see you were dying. Your skin was pale, your eyes bloodshot, dark circles adorning them...your lips were cracked and there were slight lacerations appearing around your forehead and jawline.

"She wasn't meant to house the power of an archangel," Lucifer responded. "She's dying, but the same won't happen to you."

"Will she be okay if I say yes?"

"Yes," Lucifer lied smoothly.

The guy looked like he was contemplating what to do, so Dean spoke up again.

"Look, kid. She's important to me...more important to me than pretty much anyone else in this fucked up world. I would do anything to save her...she's--she's my brother's girl."

You wanted to tell him that wasn't true, but you knew it was fruitless to even try. Even still, your heart ached at his words.

"How long?" the guy asked, directing his question at Lucifer.

"As long as I want. You'll never age, never die, as long as I'm with you."

The guy nodded. "Alright. I'll do it." He stood up. "What do I need to do?"

"Just say 'yes'," Lucifer answered.

"Yes."

A bright white light filled the room and Dean had to shield his eyes. When the light faded, you were lying on the floor and Lucifer was now clearly possessing the young man they'd come to find.

"(Y/N)!" Dean yelled as he raced to your side.

Your pulse was faint and you looked even worse than you had moments before.

"Heal her," Dean demanded.

Lucifer's lips curled up in a cruel smile. "No."

"Excuse me?"

"I said no," he repeated. "I'm not interested in saving her."

"You wouldn't have a vessel without us. You owe her!"

"I'm the devil, Dean. What makes you think I give a damn about debts?"

Dean stared at him, anger and terror fighting for control in equal measure. He stood up and went to lunge at Lucifer, but the archangel simply disappeared, leaving you and Dean completely helpless and alone.

**********

Dean had rushed you to the hospital and was currently sitting in the waiting room, hoping to hear something about your condition.

Sam rushed into the room, eyes scanning for his brother. When he saw him, Sam crossed the distance and wrapped Dean in a tight hug.

"How is she?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," Dean said quietly. "But it doesn't look good."

"She's strong, Dean."

"I don't think that matters...her body was never meant to house an archangel and she managed to do it for almost a week. She's dying, Sammy."

Sam's eyes filled with tears, but he blinked rapidly to keep them from falling.

Dean's heart ached, seeing his brother look so upset. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel a broken emptiness in his soul--a space you used to occupy. But he needed to push past his own pain for his brother's sake. After all...you weren't his.

"For (Y/N)?" a doctor called into the waiting room.

Dean and Sam practically ran in her direction. Dean's heart clenched in his chest as he took in the doctor's sad expression.

"Are you (Y/N)'s family?"

Both men nodded.

"Come with me, please," the doctor said quietly.

They followed her to a private waiting area and Dean's dread increased significantly. "What's going on?" he asked worriedly.

"Please have a seat," the doctor asked, gesturing toward the chairs against the wall. She closed the door before taking her seat across from them.

"My name's Dr. Murphy. I'm (Y/N)'s treating physician."

"I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean."

"There's no easy way to say this," Dr. Murphy said gently. "(Y/N)'s injuries are quite severe and she's in critical condition."

"But she's going to be okay, right?" Dean asked hopefully.

Dr. Murphy frowned and shook her head. "Her organs have begun to shut down...it's only a matter of time now. The best I can do is try to keep her comfortable."

"No," Dean whispered. "No, she can't--"

Sam placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, trying to comfort his brother.

"I'm very sorry," Dr. Murphy murmured.

Dean suddenly stood up. "I can't do this. I need--I need air."

He practically ran from the room and Sam got up to follow him, but Dr. Murphy placed a gentle hand on his arm. "I think it's best to give him a moment."

Sam nodded as he desperately tried to push his own emotions away. He adored you, but he knew exactly how much Dean loved you...so he knew how much pain his brother was in right now. It hurt him almost as much as losing you.

***********

Once Dean was outside, he ran around to the side of the building, desperate to be alone for a moment. He collapsed onto the ground, back against the hard stone of the hospital exterior. All of the tears he'd been pushing back for days finally poured out.

He found himself falling apart in public--something he couldn't recall doing before. He couldn't bring himself to care. You were dying and it was killing him. It was all his fault. If he hadn't been so careless, he wouldn't have gotten injured and you never would have had to beg Lucifer to save him.

He knew it wasn't a rational way of thinking, but in that moment, it didn't matter. You were about to become just another name on a never ending list of people who died because of him. He couldn't take it--it was too much.

"I know I'm not exactly on good terms with any of you and I probably don't deserve your help, but I'm not asking for myself. (Y/N) is dying and I can't save her. I'm not normally the kind of man to beg, but I'm on my knees right now...begging for just one of you to find it in yourself to give a damn. She doesn't deserve this. She's the best person I've ever known...so please. Please someone answer me. Please..." His voice was broken by the end of his short speech.

He was desperate and there was nothing he wouldn't do to save her. If no angel would help him...he wasn't above making a deal with a demon. He'd been to hell once before, and he'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant you could live.

"Hello, Dean Winchester," a soft female voice said from beside him.

He jumped up quickly, ready to fight if need be. He hadn't even heard the woman arrive, which meant she likely wasn't human.

"Don't worry," she said gently. "I'm not here to hurt you. My name is Aliraphael."

"Aliraphael?" Dean repeated. "I've never heard of you."

She smiled. "You don't need to know my name to know what I am."

Dean swallowed thickly. "Why did you come?"

"You prayed for help. I answered."

"But why? We don't know you...what would make you wanna help us?"

Aliraphael smiled. "You, your brother, and (Y/N) have sacrificed much for this world and all of the people in it. I think you deserve a miracle."

Normally Dean wouldn't believe her, but there was something in her eyes that made him feel safe. He was inclined to trust her, but he had to be sure. "What do you want in return?"

"Nothing. This is my gift to you."

"Nothing is free."

"I understand why you may be jaded, but sometimes a gift is simply a gift. This is one of those times."

Dean nodded. "I'm choosing to trust you, but just know if you betray me, I will kill you."

She smiled. "I would expect nothing less of the great Dean Winchester."

Dean led Aliraphael into the hospital and his eyes scanned the waiting area for Sam. He wasn't there, so Dean assumed he'd gone to your room.

"Excuse me. Can you tell me what room (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is in?" Dean asked the receptionist.

The woman typed on her computer without looking up and muttered, "Room 212."

"Thanks," Dean replied. He tried to walk slowly--normally--to room 212, but every instinct in his body was screaming for him to get to you as quickly as possible.

When Dean entered the room, he saw Sam standing beside your bed, his hand wrapped tightly around yours. He was speaking softly to you and Dean felt that ache in his chest intensify.

"Sam," Dean said softly.

Sam turned towards the door, eyes red from his tears. He looked between Dean and Aliraphael in confusion. "Who's she?"

"I am Aliraphael," the angel responded. "I am here to heal (Y/N)."

Sam cut Dean a look. "What did you do?"

Dean shrugged. "I prayed. She came."

"Okay, but what did you promise her in exchange?"

"Your brother has promised me nothing. I am doing this because I wish to. I have no ulterior motive."

Sam still looked worried, but he stepped back to allow Aliraphael access to your bed. Aliraphael gently placed her hand against your forehead and closed her eyes. A soft white glow began to envelop your body and your skin began to return to normal.

After several moments, Aliraphael dropped her hand from your head and turned to Sam and Dean. "It is finished."

You started to stir in the bed and Dean's heart beat faster.

"She will awaken in a moment," Aliraphael assured them.

"Thank you," Dean whispered, unable to take his eyes off your face.

Sam echoed his brother's statement and Aliraphael smiled.

"You are all very welcome." With that, the angel disappeared as if she had never been there.

You groaned softly and your eyes slowly opened. You blinked rapidly trying to clear them and focus on the room around you.

"I have to go," Dean muttered.

"What?" Sam asked in surprise, but Dean had already exited the room.

"Sam?" you asked softly, hearing the younger Winchester's voice.

"Hey, (Y/N/N)," he murmured. "I'm here."

Your bright (y/e/c) eyes focused on his face. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

You thought about it for a moment and the memories of the past few days came flooding back. "Lucifer..." you whispered.

Sam sighed and nodded. "Yeah."

"I was dying, Sam--I felt it. Why am I not dead?"

"Dean prayed...and some angel we'd never met before came to save you."

Your eyes widened. "Dean...where is he? I need to talk to him."

"He was just here, but when you started to wake up, he bolted."

"Shit," you murmured. "We need to go after him."

You started to sit up and tug at the IV in your arm, but Sam stopped you.

"Woah! Woah! Slow down, (Y/N). You were almost dead not even five minutes ago."

"And now I'm not, so we need to get the hell out of here Sam," you insisted.

Sam sighed. He knew better than to fight you, so he simply helped you remove your IV and untangle you from the web of other tubes and wires. He handed you your clothes and turned around so you could get dressed in privacy.

"Alright, let's go," you said as soon as you were dressed.

*********

When Dean left the hospital, he'd taken the Impala and started the long drive back to Lawrence. He just wanted to get home before you and figure out what his next move was. If you and Sam were going to be together...he didn't want to be there to witness it. He couldn't.

Dean's phone had rang several times, but he hadn't answered. Most of the calls were from you and a few were from Sam, but he couldn't handle hearing your voice right now. Especially if you were going to tell him everything Lucifer had said was true.

"He's still not answering his damn phone," you muttered, throwing the phone onto the dash angrily.

"I just don't get why he'd leave like that," Sam said for the fifth time.

You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. "Lucifer said some things to him, Sam...things that hurt him deeply. None of it was true, but Dean doesn't know that."

"What kind of things?"

"Things about me...about how I feel. And about you," you admitted quietly.

"(Y/N), just tell me."

"Lucifer told Dean I couldn't stand him and the only reason I hung around was because I'm in love with you."

Sam scoffed. "And Dean believed him?"

"You didn't see his face, Sam...he believed every word. I wanted to tell him the truth, but I couldn't overpower Lucifer."

"Shit," Sam mumbled. "He's a goddamn idiot if he thinks you love me more than him."

You laughed dryly. "Lucifer played on Dean's insecurities and unfortunately, it worked."

Sam sighed. "Where do you think he'd go?"

"I have to hope he went home."

"Then let's get there before he does." Sam sped up, flooring the stolen car like he'd--well, like he'd stolen it.

You were about five hours from Lawrence and Dean had a head start. You knew it was unlikely you'd get there first, but you had to hope you could get there before he left.

**********

When Sam pulled into the Bunker's garage four and a half hours later, you were relieved to see the Impala parked where it should be. Dean would never leave without his beloved car, which meant he was still there.

Both you and Sam practically ran into the Bunker, calling Dean's name.

The green eyed hunter heard your voices, but he ignored both you and Sam. He couldn't face you...he just couldn't.

"Dean? Where are you?" you called again.

"Come on, Dean. We know you're here," Sam said in annoyance.

You headed into the kitchen and Sam went down towards Dean's bedroom. Both of you hoped to find him before he managed to sneak his way out.

Sam entered his brother's room without knocking and sighed in relief. "Dean. There you are."

"Sam," he said curtly.

"Why the hell did you leave? And why didn't you answer our calls?"

"I just needed to get out of there."

"What, before (Y/N) woke up?" Sam's tone made it clear exactly how stupid he thought his brother's actions were.

"Look man, I'm glad she's okay, but I can't face her. I don't want to have that conversation."

Sam decided to play dumb. "What conversation, Dean? The one where she thanks you for saving her life? Or where you yell at her for saying yes to Lucifer in the first place? Cuz trust me, we had that conversation already."

"That's not what I'm talking about, Sam," Dean said quietly as he started to pack his duffle. "But it doesn't matter. I'm leaving."

"Why the hell are you leaving?"

"I can't stay here. I can't--I can't see the two of you together," he whispered.

"Together?" Sam asked incredulously. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's fine, Sam. I know."

"There's nothing to know!"

Dean glared at his brother and shook his head. "I saw you at the hospital...you clearly feel the same as she does."

"Yeah I do!" Sam yelled. "She's my friend--she's family!"

Dean was about to snap back another retort, but Sam cut him off.

"Just talk to (Y/N), Dean. Let her explain...you owe her that much."

"I don't want to talk to her."

"I'm not going to give you a choice," you said from the bedroom doorway.

Both men turned to look at you in surprise. You crossed your arms and stood firm.

"I don't want to talk," Dean said quietly.

"Good. I don't want you to talk, Dean. I want you to listen." You turned your gaze to Sam and gestured with your head for him to leave the room.

He gladly exited, not wanting to be a part of this particular conversation.

You closed the door behind him and continued to stand in front of it, afraid Dean would try to leave if you moved.

"Lucifer is a liar, Dean. I shouldn't even have to say that. He's the devil, for crying out loud. He's kinda known for his lies."

"But he's also been honest with us before," Dean countered.

"Only when it benefited him. Just like he lies when it benefits him. Hurting you? Hurting me? That shit brought him joy."

"Really? Did it hurt you to hear him tell me how you really feel about me?"

"No," you said angrily. "It hurt me to hear him lie to you about how I feel! The things he said were cruel and terrible, but more importantly, they weren't true!"

Dean stared at you silently, clearly not believing a word you said.

"Do you really think I'm capable of lying to you for years? Think of every moment we've spent together, Dean...do you really think I pretended to care about you? Pretended to enjoy spending time with you? Think about all the times we've laughed together, the times we've had each other's backs, the small glances, the whispers in the dark when one of us had a nightmare. Think about all of those moments and then look me in the eye and tell me it was all a lie."

Tears filled his beautiful green eyes and you knew the same expression was reflected in your own. You took a step towards him, desperately wanting to touch him, but afraid it be unwelcome.

"You're my favorite person in the world, Dean Winchester. You. Not Sam, not Bobby, not Jodi...you. You hold my whole heart in your hands...you always have. If you don't want it, then I understand, but don't for a second think I love anyone but you."

His lips parted in surprise. "But what about Sam?" he whispered.

You sighed loudly. "Weren't you listening? Sam is my friend, Dean, but nothing more than that. I love him like a brother." You took another step towards him. "He doesn't compare to you--he couldn't compare to you. I love you, Dean...and I don't mean like a brother."

Dean inhaled deeply. "I want to believe you, (Y/N/N)..."

"Then believe me," you begged him. "I love you."

Dean thought about what Lucifer had said and he realized why he'd believed it so easily. They were all things Dean was afraid of...he knew he wasn't good enough for you and he was terrified you knew it too.

"Talk to me, Dean," you whispered, taking a final step towards him.

He looked deep into your eyes and found nothing but love there. The same love he held in his soul for you. "I've always been afraid to tell you how I feel because I know I'm not good enough for you," he admitted. "That's why it was so easy for me to believe Lucifer's lies...it was almost like a self-fulfilling prophecy. I couldn't believe you'd ever want me, so it was easier to believe you wanted Sam. He's better for you in every way."

"Stop," you whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. "I decide who is best for me and I choose you. I will always choose you."

"(Y/N)," he whispered.

You pressed your lips against his, trying to infuse it with all of the love in your soul. Dean's arms wrapped around your thick waist, pulling you closer to him. He deepened the kiss, lips hungrily devouring yours.

You stayed locked in each other's embrace for what felt like an eternity. Your tongues fought for dominance and your hands caressed any part of each other they could reach.

When the kiss inevitably broke so the two of you could breathe, Dean laid his forehead against yours. "This might go without saying, but I love you too, (Y/N). So goddamn much."

You chuckled breathlessly. "After a kiss like that, I'd sure as hell hope so."

He grinned and tugged you even closer to him. His lips pressed against yours again and he found himself wanting to feel every part of your soft body. He needed it, just as much as needed air to breathe.

"Let me show you how much, baby," he whispered against your lips.

"Please," you moaned softly.

“Strip for me, pretty girl,” he commanded.

You gently pushed against his chest, forcing him back against the bed. He dropped down onto the mattress, eyes never leaving your body.

You slowly began to remove your clothing, taking much longer than you needed to. You were teasing him and he was eating it up.

You finally got down to just your bra and panties, nothing fancy as you obviously weren’t planning on this happening, but Dean didn’t seem to care. In fact, you were about to be very glad you didn’t wear anything nice.

“You are so damn beautiful, baby,” he whispered.

You offered him a warm smile, appreciative of the affection in his gaze. He thought you were a goddess among humans, a treasure to behold.

“I think you’re a bit overdressed, Dean,” you teased softly.

“You know, babe, I think you’re right.” He stood up and shed his layers significantly faster than you had. He was extremely impatient, as he was dying to get his hands on you.

You admired his broad chest, thick arms, and sculpted form. He looked incredible, scars and all. You felt the strong urge to kiss every single one of them, if he would allow you.

He now stood before you in nothing but his boxers, his large erection straining against the thin fabric.

“Let’s get this off you,” he muttered, reaching behind your back to unhook your bra.

The moment your breasts were exposed to his gaze, he let out a low groan. “Fuck, baby. These are even better than I’d imagined.”

“You imagined my—“ your question was cut off by the feeling of his lips wrapped around your nipple and his hands caressing your breasts gently.

The gentle movements quickly turned more intense, and he began to truly knead and nip at your flesh. You moaned softly and gently ran your fingers through his soft hair.

You pressed yourself even closer to him, feeling his bulge press against your abdomen. He lifted his head with a small smirk.

“Impatient, are we?”

You nodded quickly.

“Oh come on now, sweetheart. Use those words for me. Tell me what you want.”

“You,” you whimpered. “I want you.”

His smirk widened. “I figured that much out on my own, darlin'. I want you to tell me what you need.”

You weren’t exactly accustomed to expressing yourself verbally in the bedroom. To be honest, a lot of your past experiences weren’t that great anyway. A lot of one night stands with men who only cared about their own pleasure.

You found yourself feeling kind of excited at the prospect of a man listening to you and what you wanted…even more so because that man was Dean.

“I want you on your knees, handsome,” you said firmly.

Dean’s eyes widened slightly, but he dropped to his knees obediently. His normally bright green eyes were dark with lust as he locked eyes with you.

You loved the powerful feeling you had as you stood over him. The great Dean Winchester, on his knees for you.

You touched his face sweetly and he leaned into your palm, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Do you wanna eat my pussy, Dean?” you whispered.

His eyes shot back open, a hungry expression on his face. “Yes,” he breathed lowly.

“Then get to work,” you commanded softly.

Dean was used to being in charge in the bedroom and it wasn’t often he found himself submitting to a woman. You were different than any woman he’d ever been with before—after all, he loved you. If you told him to do a damn handstand naked, lick your feet, and call you “your majesty”, he would have done it in a heartbeat.

His calloused hands slowly slid up your thighs, squeezing the supple flesh. His mouth followed, leaving sloppy kisses as he worked his way closer to your core.

“Baby?” he asked softly, glancing up at you.

“Hmm?”

“Do you have any particular attachment to these panties?”

“No, why—Dean!” you gasped as he ripped your underwear in half, tossing the remains to the floor.

He grinned and made a happy little noise deep in his throat before kissing your mound. He grabbed your right leg and tugged it up over his shoulder, giving him better access to you.

“Lean on me for support, beautiful. I got you.”

The moment you laid a hand on his shoulder and he was sure you were stable, he dove into your pussy with a deep growl.

Your head fell back in ecstasy and a series of moans left your lips. The hand not holding onto his shoulder immediately wound itself in his hair, holding on for dear life.

“Dean—feels so good,” you moaned.

His hands dug into your ass cheeks in response, tugging you even closer to him. He never wanted to stop—hearing those sweet sounds you made mixed with the heady taste of your sweetness was more intoxicating than any drink he’d ever had.

Your legs had begun to tremble and Dean’s grip on you tightened. He wasn’t willing to stop his ministrations, but he wouldn’t let you fall either.

Your nails scraped against his scalp and his shoulder as you clung to him. The pleasure was almost too much and not enough all at once, and you felt your orgasm approaching.

“Dean,” you gasped. “I’m so close.”

He smiled against your core and shifted his focus more heavily to your clit. You cried out and cursed softly, and he knew he’d made the right move.

“I—oh god,” you cried as your orgasm washed over you.

Dean lapped up everything you had to offer, his grip on your body never loosening. As you began to come down from your high, he slipped his hands up to your hips to ensure he didn’t drop you.

He gave your pussy one last lick before allowing you to pull him up by his hair. To his surprise, you mashed your lips against his hungrily, not giving a damn that he tasted like you.

One hand tangled into your hair and the other held you tightly. “What do you want me to do now, sweetheart?” He murmured against your skin.

“Take control, Dean,” you begged. “Make my legs shake. Make me scream. I don’t wanna be able to move for hours.”

“Holy fuck,” he groaned. “Who taught you to talk like that, baby?”

You smirked. “It comes naturally with you.”

"Well it's the sexiest thing I've ever heard," he murmured.

His strong arms wrapped around your waist and gripped you tightly. He spun you both around so your back was to the bed. He pulled you up into his arms and tossed you onto the bed.

You gasped in surprise, not used to being manhandled in such a manner. You sat up slightly, resting on your elbows as you looked at the gorgeous man in front of you. You curled one finger and beckoned him towards you with a smirk.

He quickly discarded his boxers and dropped onto the bed, crawling slowly up your body. He dropped kisses onto your skin as he moved, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

When he reached your mouth, you reached up and grabbed the hair at the base of his neck, tugging him down to you. Your kiss was hungry and needy, leaving no question as to what you wanted.

As the kiss deepened, Dean shifted his body to touch your soft curves. In doing so, the tip of his cock brushed against your pussy, eliciting soft moans from both of you.

Dean's hands traced softly up and down your sides, relishing the feeling of your skin against his. "I love touching you," he murmured in your ear. "You're so damn soft."

You smiled and turned your head to nip at his jaw. He groaned and turned his attention back to your soft lips, sucking the bottom one between his teeth and biting down gently.

Much like Dean, you loved touching his body, but you reveled in the firmness of his body beneath your hands. Every time he moved, you could feel his muscles tense and shift. His body was powerful and beautiful--a vessel carrying the most incredible soul you'd ever known.

Dean shifted again, nudging your head to the side so he could suck at your neck, leaving love marks on the sensitive skin. You lifted your hips up slightly, seeking some kind of friction to relieve the ache between your legs. Once again, his cock brushed against your core and you gasped lightly. Dean, on the other hand, bit gently into your neck to suppress a loud moan.

"I can't wait any longer, baby," he groaned.

"Take me. I'm yours," you whispered.

He sighed softly, kissing you sweetly before pulling away. "Roll over for me, sweetness. Hands and knees."

Your eyes widened in surprise, but you rolled over immediately. You lowered your upper body to lay flat against the mattress, ass high in the air.

"Holy shit," Dean murmured as his hands grasped your large, round ass. "Who said you could have an ass this incredible? I can't wait to watch it jiggle while I fuck you senseless."

Before you could respond, he smacked your ass with an open palm, causing you to gasp slightly.

He seemed to realize belatedly that he should have asked if you were okay with that before doing it, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't imagined smacking your ass for years. "Is that okay, baby?"

"More, please," you begged softly.

He smacked your ass again with a grin. "You like that?"

"Harder, Dean," you moaned. "Like you mean it."

"Fuck," he groaned, hand coming down against your cheek again.

Each time you moaned loudly, reaffirming your enjoyment of the action. Your pussy clenched around nothing and you were beyond desperate for him to just fuck you already.

"Dean, I need you--please," you cried desperately.

"Where do you need me, baby?"

"Inside me," you whimpered.

Without warning, you felt one of Dean's thick fingers enter your pussy. "Like this?"

You shook your head rapidly.

"Words, babe," he said firmly.

"I want your cock, Dean."

"Yeah? Tell me where."

You turned your head to look at him as best as you could from your current position. "I want you to fuck my pussy with your big, thick cock...please," you pleaded softly.

Dean blinked rapidly and licked his lips. He pulled his finger out from inside of you and sucked your juices from it. "Yes ma'am," he murmured.

He leaned forward and kissed your cheek where he'd left a red mark from his slaps. You turned your head back around, forehead against the mattress, preparing yourself for what would come next.

Dean gripped his cock tightly, stroking it a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. He started to enter you and you gasped at the stretch. It was painful given his larger than average size.

"I've got you, baby," he whispered, running his hands up and down your back in a soothing manner. "Just relax for me."

You took a deep breath and tried to relax your body as much as you could. When he felt the tension leave you, he continued to push forward.

You'd never felt so full before and the pain had begun to subside into pleasure. "You're so big," you mumbled.

Dean smirked and chuckled softly. "I'm not all the way in yet, sweetheart."

"What?!" you gasped in surprise.

He pushed the rest of the way in, bottoming out so deep inside you, you swore you could feel him against your cervix. "Fuck!" you yelped.

Dean continued his soothing hand motions on your hips as he allowed you the time you needed to adjust to his size.

While you appreciated his gentleness, you desperately needed him to fuck you. Instead of telling him what you wanted, you moved your hips forward slightly before slamming back against him so your ass pressed firmly against his lower abdomen.

Dean's blunt nails dug into your hips and he growled lowly. "Fuck, baby."

His hips snapped forward and he held you in place by your hips. He set a brutal pace, unable to move slowly--it felt way too damn good.

Dean was completely mesmerized by your ass, watching it jiggle as he fucked into you forcefully. He slapped the opposite cheek from the one he'd hit earlier and you cried out in pleasure, pussy clenching around him.

"You feel so fuckin' good, sweetness," he moaned. "Tightest pussy I've ever had."

You couldn't formulate a good response to his words as you were already too far gone. His cock slammed into your g-spot with each thrust, making your legs shake and your head fog up.

"Made for me, weren't you baby?"

"Mhmm," you hummed.

Dean smiled, knowing you were overwhelmed with pleasure and unable to respond properly. He leaned forward and grabbed a handful of your hair at the base of your neck. He tugged back slightly--just enough to cause a little pain without truly hurting you.

His thrusts were almost violent, they were so fast and hard. He wanted to feel you come apart on his cock and he knew you were close.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" he whispered.

You simply whined desperately.

"What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me what you need."

"More," you begged.

"Hmm," Dean hummed. He slipped an arm around your waist and tugged you back against him so you were sitting up as he continued to thrust into you.

One hand slid up to your neck, wrapping around your throat and applying just a tiny bit of pressure to gauge your reaction. His other hand moved slowly towards your core, seeking your clit for added stimulation.

"Dean!" you cried.

He bit into your shoulder. "I'm here, baby. I want you to fall apart for me."

He rubbed at your clit quickly, thrusts slower due to the new position, but nevertheless pleasurable.

You needed just a little more to push yourself over the edge, so you gripped his hand around your neck and put more pressure on it, indicating what you needed.

Dean got the hint and tightened his grip on your throat, just enough to push you over the edge. He didn't want to hurt you--he would never hurt you.

"Cum for me, sweet girl," he murmured in your ear.

You cried out as your second orgasm crashed against you and your pussy tightened almost painfully around Dean's cock. He helped you ride out your high before lowering you back to the bed and rolling you over onto your back.

He was immediately on top of you, thrusting into you more slowly. He put one arm on either side of your head to support himself, effectively trapping you beneath him.

He rolled his hips against you, the motion pressing his pelvis against your clit, causing you to whimper in pained pleasure. Your hands found purchase in his upper back, nails digging in as he repeated the action.

"I love your body, baby," he whispered. "So fucking perfect."

You smiled up at him, pulling him down for a heated kiss. "I like it too," you mumbled. "Yours isn't bad either."

He chuckled lightly, kissing you lovingly. "I wanna see you come apart for me, (Y/N). Can you give me one more?"

Your eyes widened. "I don't think I can..."

"I bet you can, sweetness." He grabbed your hips and pulled your legs up so your legs were wrapped around his waist. He began to thrust in earnest again and your head fell back, a moan escaping your lips.

Dean closed his eyes, focusing on pulling at least one more orgasm from you and keeping his own at bay. The way you were squeezing him made it a hell of a lot harder than he would like.

The harder his thrusts, the tighter you seemed to grip him, and the deeper your nails dug into his back. He knew he was going to have some serious gashes on his back, but he intended to wear them with pride.

"Come apart for me, baby. Let me feel you soak my cock," he begged.

"Dean," you groaned.

"Come on, my love--let go."

Your eyes fluttered closed and your body began to shake as waves of pleasure threatened to overwhelm you. You came for the third time that night, cries of pleasure mixing with Dean's moans of encouragement.

You started to come down from your high, body overly sensitive from the onslaught of pleasure that continued. "Dean, too much!" you gasped.

"Just one more," he begged.

"I can't!" you whimpered.

"Please baby--one more. Need it," he continued to beg.

You didn't think it was possible for you to cum again, but you began to feel a new sensation in your abdomen. It felt similar to the familiar tightening coil that signified an oncoming orgasm, but it was infinitely more intense. You weren't even sure if it was pleasure or pain--the feeling was simply too overwhelming to comprehend.

"Dean--I can't--" you gasped in confusion.

His hand slid between your bodies to gently massage your clit and you suddenly couldn't breathe. You began to writhe beneath him, hands gripping at the sheets to try and ground yourself.

Dean knew you were about to come undone again, so he didn't slow any of his motions. "Look at me, baby."

Your eyes met his for no more than a moment before your vision became blurry. You screamed his name as you came for a fourth and final time. The feeling was so incredible, you couldn't even begin to describe it.

Your vision began to return to normal as you desperately tried to catch your breath. You were practically limp beneath him as Dean began to chase his own orgasm.

He tucked his head into the crook of your neck and murmured soft words of praise against your skin. "Feels so good--squeezing me perfectly."

He kissed your neck as his thrusts became more erratic. "I'm gonna fill up this pretty little pussy, sweetness. Gonna cum for you."

You managed to press a kiss into his shoulder and wrap your arms around him, hands clutching his back. "Fill me up, Dean," you whispered encouragingly.

Dean groaned lowly. "This pussy is mine, baby. You hear me? Mine."

"Yours, Dean. Only yours."

"Oh--fuck--" he groaned. "(Y/N)!"

His hips began to stutter, thrusts faltering as he filled you up with his seed. He whispered your name like a prayer as his movements began to slow to a halt. You clung to him tightly as he came down from his high.

He finally collapsed on top of you, completely spent and breathless.

You rubbed his back soothingly, lips pressing gentle kisses to his shoulder and neck. As the two of you laid there quietly, you began to notice the bedding beneath you was particularly wet--more so than you had expected it to be.

"I love you so much," Dean whispered, lips pressed softly against your jaw.

"I love you too, baby," you said sweetly.

Dean began to lift himself up, each movement making you gasp--body too overstimulated to handle any motion.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he murmured softly.

"I'm not complaining," you assured him.

He grinned slightly as he pulled himself up completely, softened member sliding out of your excessively wet pussy.

He looked down at the bed and his grin widened. "We made quite the mess, baby."

"Yeah, it feels a little...wetter than normal."

He chuckled softly. "That's probably because you squirted, (Y/N/N)."

You gasped, cheeks reddening in embarrassment. You realized that must have been the result of the most intense orgasm of your life. "I did?!"

Dean noticed your discomfort and immediately reassured you. "Yeah, sweetness--and it was the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen."

You bit your lip and looked up at him. "Really?"

He grinned. "Really."

"I've--uh--well...I've never squirted before," you admitted.

His chest puffed up with pride. "I'm honored to have been the first--and the last." He added a wink for emphasis.

You smiled softly. "Maybe don't make it a regular thing...I literally can't move."

Dean laughed. "Don't worry, babe. I'll take care of you."

You watched the handsome man cross the room and go into the bathroom, emerging several minutes later with two washcloths. He gently picked you up, moving you to the other side of the bed where it was dry. From there, he very gently began to clean you up with the warm washcloths.

You were moved by the loving way he took care of you, making sure you were clean and comfortable before leaving the room in search of another set of sheets.

When he returned, you found you still couldn't move, but Dean didn't seem to mind. "I can change the sheets with you in them, (Y/N)."

"But--"

"Hush," he insisted as he pressed a kiss to your lips.

He made quick work of removing the sheets on the other half of the bed and putting the clean sheets on that side. He then scooped you up again and moved you to the clean, crisp sheets. He removed the rest of the soiled sheets and finished making the bed.

As soon as he was finished, he crawled into the bed beside you. He reached out to grab your soft body and tugged you against his warm chest.

You nuzzled into him and sighed softly. "I could get used to this."

He smiled and kissed the top of your head. "I'll always take care of you, baby...so you might as well get used to it. I'm not going anywhere."

You smiled and pressed a soft kiss onto his chest. "I love you, Dean."

Dean tightened his grip on you and smiled. "I love you more, (Y/N/N). Always."

[golby-moon]

so an unspecified number of months ago I read this great fic (linked below) and was inspired to make art for it but alas, bang responsibilities happened. the line art for this has been sitting around forever and I finally found the time to color, shade, and throw a background on this bad boy and now I finally get to chuck it at the author's head as promised

(sorry for taking forever gfhfjfi)

so yeah I wanted to have two scenes for this as sort of a before/after, which is also reflected in the colors of the clothes (or towel) matching the other person's color in the second pic whereas they kinda clash in the first (Cas' bright shirt vs Dean's drabber one). also I tried something newish with the background where it's there but hopefully not super attention drawing idk thoughts? and yeah the roofs are like that on purpose. also also tried something new with the tears idk hopefully that looks okay

(also also also if that first drawing's poses look familiar, it's because I used it before in an old art piece that idk I never really liked for a few reasons that I rant about in the tags a bit and can explain more but I saw it again the other day and wanted to kinda rectify that as kind of a redraw. idk I think it looks better now with the proportions all rounded off and the lines a bit smoother, though Dean's arm is a bit too long here I'm realizing. oh well. any shorter and their faces would've been touching so what can you do)

((I say also too much))

the fic this is made for is called "Of Curses and Bee-Colored Mittens" by @destielshipper4cas

(fic is locked for people who aren't signed into AO3)

(06/05/24)

[castieldelamancha]

Castiel stands still as Dean approaches him. He briefly eyes the light blue box he just left on the table, recognizing the logo of a bakery they drove by on their first day here.

He stands still as Dean stops in front of him, stretching the elastic band of the party hat in his hands in order to get it on Castiel, adjusting the hat on his head so it's slightly tilted to the side, on the opposite direction Castiel's head is tilted to in confusion.

Dean takes a short step back and Castiel briefly wonders when is and isn't right and acceptable to invade someone's personal space, but he doesn't say anything he simply watches Dean as he admires his work, his gaze focusing on the way his hands twitch slightly, how he lifts them as if to reach to touch Cas only to lower them down again, he does so a couple of times until he finally settles for adjusting Cas' tie and brushing off some non-existent dust off his shoulders.

"Happy birthday, Cas." He smiles brightly and Castiel, if that's even possible, feels even more confused than before.

"It's really not my birthday, I don't have one of those," Dean's face falls slightly at that, but the expression is gone almost as quick as it appeared in his features, not like he even understands why some logical reasoning would upset Dean.

Dean rolls his eyes, "I know that, but we humans have that one day where we celebrate a person, I thought you could have one too and I-" he trails away, now staring anywhere but at Castiel when before it seemed he couldn't look away from his eyes, "well I thought we could celebrate you on the day we met."

September 18th. Castiel remembers now. That's the day on the calendar today.

Sam, who had been watching the scene unfold up to that point from the motel room's table, with its wobbly legs and it's scratched wooden surface, turns his head away, probably trying to school his features because in Castiel's opinion, he made a quite strange face at Dean's statement.

Castiel doesn't see the point on telling Dean they met before this day, so he doesn't say anything at all, part of him not wishing to be the cause of another hurt look in Dean's eyes

"It's stupid, really, uhm." Dean is rambling, nervously, he is also blushing, lightly.

Castiel reaches out and awkwardly pats his shoulder, he smiles softly, the gesture still feels so unfamiliar to him, "thank you so much, Dean." They stare at each other for a while and Castiel, usually aware of everything around them, forgets about the Earth spinning slowly around the Sun, about the noise outside, the heat of billions of stars and the voices of his brothers and sisters echoing in the back of his mind. There is only Dean, and the easy smile on his lips that reaches his tired but bright green eyes, and the brilliance of that soul that still catches Castiel off of guard with its love and bravery.

Sam clears his throat, breaking the stillness of their shared moment, "have you bought a candle too or something? I mean not like we can get a cake big enough-"

"Pie." Dean interrupts.

Sam huffs lightly, "a pie big enough to get all the candles for Cas' age on it."

Dean laughs at that with a muttered, "you are too old buddy," that has Castiel nodding in agreement because he is, indeed, too old. Dean proceeds to take a little plastic package out of his pocket with a single blue and white candle inside, "I got everything we need."

And Castiel doesn't know it yet, but Dean also has a hastily wrapped present for him in that very same pocket of his jacket.

.

Castiel stands still as Dean approaches him. He knows well by now that glint in his eyes, his barely contained excitement and the playful smile on his lips. He doesn't even need to look at the party hat in his hands or notice the familiar smile of freshly baked pie coming from the kitchen to know Dean has planned something.

Castiel is a bit at a loss here, he knows it's not their anniversary yet, it isn't Dean's birthday either.

So he simply waits. He stands still, feeling a sense of deja vú as Dean stretches the elastic band of the hat to put it on Castiel's head, slightly crooked to the left. Dean doesn't step back, his eyes moving from the hat to Castiel and, with sure and steady hands testimony of how far they have come after all these years, his right hand closes over Castiel's jaw and the other settles on his lower back pulling him closer.

"We haven't really got the chance to celebrate your birthday since that time, all those years ago," he explains, a hint of guilt in his voice, " so, since the world isn't ending for once, I thought it would be nice to do it again."

September 18th, Castiel remembers now, that's the day on the calendar today.

"It's really not my birthday, I don't have one of those," Dean's face falls slightly, "but if I had one," he adds, trying to avoid upsetting Dean when this is clearly something important to him, and Castiel sees the appeal in this too, stop mourning and start celebrating, " I would love it to be today, the day we met again all those years ago.

The day that started it all.

September 18th.

He had never felt as alive as in that moment, with his wings manifesting with the power of a thunderstorm, a knife through his heart and the brightest soul he had ever had the honor of holding close right in front of him.

He had never felt as alive as he did fighting side by side with Dean, as he did in their shared laughter and sorrow.

As he does now, in their love.

They stare at each other and he gladly loses himself in the depths of Dean's gaze. He can't feel the Earth turning anymore, he can't hear the noise outside or feel the warmth of all the stars in the skies above, it has been a long time since he last heard another angel's voice echoing in the back of his mind. If he could still experience all those things they would be gone now, completely forgotten.

He crosses the short distance between them and presses his lips to Dean's, "thank you so much, my Dean." He then chuckles lightly, what makes Dean, that was leaning forwards, chasing his lips, stop and frown at him, "how many candles do I have to blow? I am concerned, see, my lungs aren't what they used to be anymore."

Dean laughs too, shaking his head lightly, "just the one, I actually managed to find the same one we used the first time around." He takes the candle, safe inside a plastic package, out of the front pocket of the flannel he is wearing and proudly shows it to Cas, and there it is, the single candle with its white and blue swirls.

"C'mon," Dean kisses Cas once more, stepping away from him and offering him his hand, "you actually can eat pie this time without tasting every molecule in it."

Castiel takes the offered hand and allows Dean to guide him to the kitchen.

[flyingfish1]

I don’t think Dean HAS been looking for Cas. YET.

I think what he’s actually been doing is – and I say this with all the love and hope in my Deangirl, destiel-otp heart – fleeing in the opposite direction.

Because –

Mary: I don’t regret what happened [when we were closed into a room with only one exit, with an antagonist pounding on the door, trying to get in and kill us, and romantic feelings were expressed]. But with everything going on […] I – I’m not sure what I’m ready for. So, I – I just need time. -1x08

Lata: You know, I just – I can’t believe you haven’t been in touch with Anton. -1x09

Mary: Um, can I ask you something? About you and Tony’s dad Ali [an interspecies romantic relationship]? Ada: What would you like to know? Mary: Well, going into it, you both knew you were from different worlds. Ada: Mmm-hmm. Mary: But you went for it anyway. If you had the chance to do it over again, would you? Ada: I followed my heart. I don’t think that’s ever a mistake. Mary: Even if you’re scared? -1x05

Carlos: Listen, um – I’m, I’m sorry I never called you after our date. Anton: Don’t tell me the big, bad hunter got scared. Carlos [smiling]: Maybe! [Pause] Carlos [serious this time]: Yeah. -1x09

But it’s okay. It’s okay, because –

Ada: I followed my heart. I don’t think that’s ever a mistake. Mary: Even if you’re scared? Ada: Especially then. It’s just part of falling in love. -1x05

Mary: It’s okay to be scared. In fact, it’s good to be scared. [She glances at John.] You can’t be brave if you’re never scared. -1x05

Carlos: But, um. I’m not afraid to ask you on a second date tonight. -1x09

[Mary walks up to John and kisses him] John: What – I – I don’t understand. Mary: I don’t want to think about the Akrida. Or whether the world has a future. I want to be with you. Right here. Right now. -1x08

Mary: Listen, before you go, I have to tell you something. John: Tell me when you see me again. -1x13

Ahh, classic supernatural destiel narrative parallels, where would we ever be without you? seriously though, the instant that kiss happened – that “locked together in a room with only one exit, with death banging on the door, right before it gets sucked into an alternate realm” kiss – I just knew that Mary’s reaction would tell us SO MUCH about Dean’s reaction to Cas’ love declaration.

And I really think it did! but it goes so far beyond just that one scene. so many of Carlos’s reactions to Anton, and so many of Mary’s other reactions to John, are SO telling as well.

And I think, looking at the narrative parallels, it’s all laid out clearly:

Dean’s been scared. He doesn’t regret what happened – he’s glad that Cas said what he said – but he hasn’t known how to handle it. Of course, in the immediate aftermath, Cas was gone, and there was no relationship to handle – but after learning that Cas, it seems, is out of the Empty, Dean was confronted with the certainty of coming face-to-face with him again and having to deal with the consequences. Things that may have been distant thoughts were now extremely concrete possibilities. And it was overwhelming.

He needed to take some time to process his feelings and to figure out what he was ready for. The idea of following his heart to where his heart wanted him to go – the idea of a relationship – scared him. Maybe also the intensity of his feelings scared him. And Cas is an angel, and that element of the relationship – the two of them being from such different worlds – was intimidating too. What if something goes wrong? What if he messes it up somehow? This is Cas. This is important. So Dean avoided Cas for a while, and then he stumbled onto the Akrida threat, and it was just too much for him to deal with all at once.

But he’s looking for Cas now. Maybe he’s still scared, but he’s trying to be brave. He’s going to follow his heart. He has to tell Cas something.

[touchstiel]

Whats your favourite touch scene?

And better yet, what would you have wanted to see on screen if cw wasnt homophobic?

Personally ik a lot of us would have wanted a kiss (i do too) but id of loved a long embrace followed by a forehead touch while they expressed their love for each other :) 💕

well my favorite touch scenes are probably the ones where dean's hands run all over cas's body and wind up holding his face - 11.3 the bad seed right after cas beats up dean and has a seizure, and dean picks him up, rubs his leg, and looks like hes about to pull him close to make out... and 9.3 i'm no angel when dean (TWICE) runs up to a just dead and then alive again cas in the chair, touches his knee and his arm and cradles his face. unmatched romance. inconceivable jacting joices. just pure insanity.

i think of course i would have loved to see a kiss just like anyone else and yes definitely a long desperate clingy hug would be so satisfying. but i think something underrated that we were also robbed of was a proper handhold. the one in 12.12 is too circumstantial and functional, despite how lingering it is. i would have loved to see them holding hands instinctively, for comfort, or support in a tense moment, or leaning on each others shoulders maybe on a long drive in the back seat while sam drives, or during a movie night like they got to do with charlie, but snuggled up on the bed with only the light from the screen on their faces.

and also hands running through hair.. fingers casually tickling the back of the neck while they have a conversation with other people completely oblivious to proper social behavior hands going into back pockets and maybe running up the back of tshirts just a little bit of unconscious mine mine mine...

[ladyluscinia]

There is a Reservoir Dogs episode???? Plz elaborate.

Season 12, Episode 12: Stuck in the Middle (With You) is a pretty straightforward homage to Reservoir Dogs, and also just Tarantino films in general. I'll admit I'm not a huge Tarantino buff myself so I might have missed anything subtler, but the references aren't much of a deep cut. A quote, some cinematic scene echoes - diner scene, badass group walk scene, Mr. Orange gut wound plot - and the whole thing gets framed as Mary telling Ketch a story through timestamped flashbacks.

For the most part it seems like a homage episode where they are having fun with it? Honor the iconic filmmaker and get your audience to go "heyyyyy" about how that's just like this iconic scene, but not doing anything particularly juicy with it.

Except.

Well.

Ok, so the episode was written by Davy Perez (of Tombstone fame) and directed by Richard Speight Jr. (of Destiel confession scene infamy). And at the very least Speight needs to defend himself before the court for this one, because at minimum directorial crimes were committed. That bit I mentioned above about the Mr. Orange gut wound plot? Well here's the thing:

I'm assuming you know this, but the whole Mr. Orange bleeding out from a gut wound while Mr. White homoerotically cradles him is kind of a big deal. Even crucial to the reference, you might say. Like the whole "you can be as intimate and emotional as you want with your warrior's-bond good buddy as long as he's tragically dying on the battlefield" is the whole fucking point. And yet... when they make the central plot of the whole episode stabbing good buddy Cas in the gut with a slow, painful, angel-killing spear they run into a snag.

Because this is Supernatural, and Cas is not going to die at the end of the episode to wipe the slate clean of gay vibes, and also doing things like homoerotic references with Cas in S12 just draws attention to how much homoerotic shit is already there. So they cast Dean as Mr. White and then absolutely break the parallel and upend the reference in order to no-homo the homoerotic gut wound arc.

Dean barely touches him. His emotions are subdued. They put Mary in the backseat to cradle him while Dean drives. And then right as he's actively "dying" Cas looks at Dean and the camera closeups on Dean and we get an "I love you" - pointed beat, remember there are more people in the room - "I love all of you". And instead of cradling him or even just sitting next to him Dean is standing across the room with minimal reaction.

They no-homo'd this so hard that it's almost impossible not to see Destiel in the negative space. Like by choosing to make a Reservoir Dogs reference and then immediately backing away from the reference in a panic, they a) look like cowards, and b) raise the question of why Cas and Dean can't do Mr. Orange and Mr. White. Go on, viewer. Imagine what that would look like if Dean cradled Cas and held his bleeding guts in and wiped the sweat off his face while panic muttering "You're gonna be fine".

Oh.

(That's fucking right.)

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Someone (Not) To Lose

It’s a close shave this time, and not just metaphorically. Castiel’s heart skips a very human beat when Nael draws his angel blade along the side of Dean’s neck and blood spurts. Its spray paints additional freckles on Dean’s face, and then the rhythmic pumping starts, a thick, scarlet spout. 

Deans eyes go wide in shock. 

Castiel roars: “NOOO!”

Nael lets Dean drop, and he lands on the already blood-slick floor, clutching at the wound in his neck.

Castiel knows there is little time. Humans are so fragile. It takes only minutes for them to bleed out. Such beautiful bodies, so delicate. Even Dean who is strength embodied and perfection poured into skin, flesh and bones. 

Castiel throws himself at Nael. It’s rage and fear against cold calculation, and Cas has to willfully control the storm of emotions that will weaken him in this fight. Their angel blades clash, sparks flying, metal singing. They’re a blur of celestial cruelty. 

Castiel lunges and pivots, stabs and slashes, blocks and punches with his other hand. His muscles are driven by urgency, his movements fuelled by fear of loss. It seems imminent, Dean growing ever paler in a widening pool of blood, eyelids drooping. 

I can’t lose him. I’d lose myself.

Maybe it is that - love - which gives him the upper hand on Nael who has nothing (and no one) to lose. Maybe God cared to blink at the earth and found he still had use of Dean Winchester and his wayward angel. Maybe it’s pure luck.

Whatever it is - in the wild tussle, Castiel’s elbow finds Nael’s nose. A crunch, and the angel staggers back, tripping over Dean’s booted foot. He flails and falls, and Castiel plunges the blade deep into his chest before Nael even hits the floor. In a blinding blaze from his eyes and mouth, Nael burns out.

“Dean!” 

Castiel is on his hands and knees at Dean’s side, kneeling in his blood. Dean is pale as a sheet and still, his eyes closed. As soon as Castiel’s hand touches the gash in his neck, the wound seals, glowing white, and leaves no trace. 

“Dean?”

Hand shaking, Castiel shifts his fingers to Dean’s carotid where he’s learned to find a human pulse if there is one. He waits, prayers bleeding from his panicked soul. Has learned to count, twenty-one, twenty-two, and -

There it is. Dean’s life, beating a faint but steady rhythm against his fingertips. 

“Thank God….!” Cas cannot help saying it.

Under his touch, Dean stirs. His brow furrows, his eyelids flutter open. And then Cas has him back, confusion in that green gaze, lips drawn apart in wonder.

“What-...?” Dean sits up in alarm, Cas’ hand on his shoulder. 

“Nael’s dead,” Castiel explains, steady now, his world righting itself on its axis. “And you’re okay.”

Remembering, Dean touches his neck and looks at his hand, then at the pool of blood they’re both sitting in.

“Damnit, Cas…”, he says in amazement. Then his eyes meet Castiel’s, crinkling in a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Cas rises and extends a helping hand. “You’re welcome.” 

He pulls Dean to his feet. Raising an eyebrow at both their blood-spattered, blood-soaked selves, he cannot help suppress an elated smirk. 

“Join me in the shower?” Castiel asks cheekily. 

Dean’s chuckle makes his heart soar.

“Least I can do, Cas. And maybe a little more.”

They leave the gory scene behind, along with the fear and the near-loss, Dean’s arm across Castiel’s shoulders, Cas’ arm around Dean’s waist, reveling in their closeness, in being alive. 

[naughtystiel]

prompt 》 write a scene between two characters without a dialogue. make it a quiet private moment where we see what they're like together when no one else is around. 》 DEANCAS

It’s 6.30am on a cold October morning. The sun rises slowly, its rays squeeze through blinds and warm up brown wooden cabinets in a kitchen. Dean rubs his eyes as he walks into the room. He shivers a bit and tugs on his hoodie. He decides to put his hood over his messy hair after a minute and puts a kettle on. Without thinking he takes out two mugs and leans on the counter, arms crossed, hugging his body to keep warm. The cabin is quiet and there’s barely any sound that comes from outside apart from birds that migrate for the winter. Dean walks closer to the window and peaks through it, morning mist hovers over frosty ground and everything looks like it got dipped in gold paint. The kettle whistles, but he’s mesmerised with the picture that nature created in front of his eyes. Soft steps appear in the kitchen and the kettle goes quiet. Cas takes the mugs and makes coffee, the aroma fills the room and gets Dean’s attention. Blue meets green, just like the sky meets the forest outside the cabin.  They exchange sleepy smiles and Dean chuckles at Cas’ hair that sticks out from under a hood, mirroring his own state. Cas walks up to Dean and hands him one of the mugs. They both make their way to a small table next to a window and sit down. Cas sighs and brings his drink closer to his face, inhales the smell that fills in his lungs, the steam warms up his freezing cheeks. He smiles to himself when he catches Dean do the same. The chair squeaks a little when he shifts himself and leans back. His body relaxes when he takes a sip of his beverage. Dean opens the blind and a stronger wave of gold sunshine breaks through the window. Small particles of dust dance in the air and shimmer when the light hits them. Cas’ eyes slowly adjust to this barrier between them and then focus on Dean’s face. He pays attention to his freckles, more visible now that the sun itself kissed them good morning. Dean leans his elbows on the table and fidgets with his mug. It adds a fresh stain next to an old one that’s imprinted into the wood. It’s okay though, not everything is perfect and it gives it more character. In a way, he’s like this table, full of marks and stains from the past, but he’s still useful, valid. Suddenly there’s a hand on his cheek, warm from holding a hot mug, the touch is gentle against his stubble. It’s reassuring and expresses more than any words would at this time of the day. Their eyes meet once more and there’s a spark between their gaze. Longing, full of affection. Dean leans into the touch and exhales slowly. A clock softly ticks on the wall, but it feels like the whole world stopped. Cas strokes his rosy cheek once with his thumb before his hand finally drops to Dean’s forearm and rests there. It fits there perfectly like it’s meant to hold Dean together, every piece of him. They drink their coffee and stare at trees that sway gently, sun peaking through branches. They’re safe.

[waywardnerd67]

Is This Real?

Title: Is This Real? Summary: Dean gets the surprise of his life when (Y/N) suddenly shows up on his doorstep. Paring: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 2123 Rating: X - Explicit Warnings: Angst/Fluff/Smut Square Filled: Witches Spell Bingo Card: @spnchristmasbingo​ A/N: None

Check Out: 2022 Christmas Bingo Masterlist

For the first time since finding the bunker, Dean had it decked out for the holidays. At first, Sammy had grumbled about it, but eventually even he enjoyed reading by the Christmas tree in the library. Which is where Dean was currently enjoying a bourbon with Trans Siberian Orchestra playing in the background. With Sam out on a case with Eileen, he was left to get everything ready for their big Christmas shindig.

He was mid-drink when the iron door creaked open, “Sammy? That was quic–”

At the top of the stairs was the only person he loved more than Sam or Cas. She was gripping the railing and breathing heavily.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?”

He met her halfway up the stairs taking a hold of her arm and waist. His heart stopped as a low moan escaped her lips. They made it down the stairs and he sat her in one of the chairs.

“Wit-Witch… curse… fuck.” She panted, her hands going for his belt.

Dean immediately stepped away as she whimpered, reaching out to him. He pulled out his cell dialing Sam.

“Dean, this better be life or death.” He heard giggling in the background.

“Sammy, it’s (Y/N). A witch hexed her and… well she’s not acting right.”

The giggling stopped as Sam spoke, “What is she doing? Do you know what kind of hex?”

He looked over to see her hands running down her body and suddenly his jeans were a little too tight. Beads of sweat were running down the side of her face and her head fell back over the chair.

“Dude, I’m pretty sure it some kind of sex hex. She tried taking off my belt and now she’s touching her…”

“Alright! I don’t need to hear any more. Trying to get her into the shower room and run cool water over her. If you can get any info on the witch let me know and we’ll start looking into a few curses.”

“Thanks Sam and I’m sorry… to, ya know, interrupt your night.”

Dean ended the call, walking back over to (Y/N). Her hands clenched the hem of his shirt trying to push it up.

“Please… oh god Dean, the pressure is too much. Please, I need you.” She begged.

Dean let out a long breath, “Sweetheart, any other time I would be all over you, but not like this. Not when it’s not real.”

He was able to pick her up and carry her into the shower room. He turned the water to cool and placed her underneath it. He noticed her eyes were a vibrant green unlike her normal beautiful color. His phone vibrated against the sink and he quickly answered it.

“Tell me you got something.”

Sam let out a nervous chuckle, “From everything I can find without knowing who the witch is, says the same thing. Either the witch has to end the hex or…”

(Y/N)’s moan echoed off the walls as Dean turned around seeing the last remaining piece of clothing landing on the floor in a wet pile. Sure, he had seen her in her bra and panties while patching her up. He had fantasized a million times of seeing her naked. Now she was lying beneath the water cascading down her body as her fingers pinched her nipples.

“O-Or what Sam?” He gritted his teeth from his cock throbbing from the scene before him.

“You have to help her finish.”

The world momentarily stopped for Dean, “Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?”

“Yes and no. You could have sex with her and immediately break the curse. Or, you might be able to talk her through making herself orgasm.” There was a pause as Dean watched (Y/N)’s hand slip lower down her body, “Dean… I know you have feelings…”

“Not now Sam. First, we need to get (Y/N) right, hunt down the witch that hexed her and then deal with the chick flick moments. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

Before Sam could say anything he ended the call. Walking towards her, Dean sat far enough away that she wouldn’t be able to touch him, but could see him clearly. As much as he wanted to have sex with her, he couldn’t. Not like this. He wanted it to be real with her. He cared about her to damn much to just fuck her even if it was to save her life. However, he could guide her through it.

“Pretty girl, look at me.”

Her wide, panic filled eyes locked with his. Her bottom lip disappeared beneath her teeth as he unfastened his belt and pants.

“Sweetheart, I need you to touch yourself. I need you to show me exactly what you want me to do if we were to be together.”

A low whine came from her as she sat up, “I… I can’t. Need you. Can only be you Dean.”

“I’m right here, pretty girl. Touch yourself for me, please. Show me how you would rub yourself and tease yourself.”

Dean lifted his hips enough to push his jeans down around his knees. Giving him a brief moment of relief as his cock was freed from the restraints. He made the mistake of looking at her and a current of desire shot through him. (Y/N) was staring at him holding his length in his hand and her tongue darted out over her lips.

“Fu-Fuck me, Dean. I need you inside me.” She let out a shaky moan as she rubbed herself, “Oh god… need you to make me cum.”

He swallowed hard as he slowly started to stroke himself, “I promise sweetheart, I’m gonna make you cum. We’re both going to cum together, but I can’t… I can’t touch you. Not like this, not yet.”

“I feel so close. Need more. Need you. Shit… fuck…” Her hand was feverishly rubbing her clit and his hips were thrusting up against nothing.

Dean picked up his own pace feeling he wasn’t going to last much longer either. The warmth from his belly was spreading down his legs making them tingle. He focused on (Y/N)’s face trying not to stare at her getting herself off.

“Pretty girl,” He grunted, “Push two fingers inside of you. Feel yourself cumming on them. I need you to cum with me and I’m so fucking close.”

He was barely holding back from shooting his load all over himself, but he needed her to cum first. Not only to break whatever curse was on her, but because he was selfish. He wanted to see her cum and if this was going to be his own chance then he wanted to memorize every second of it.

“Dean! Oh fuck, Dean!” She cried out, pushing her fingers deep inside of her.

Her head was thrown back in pleasure as her spread legs shook. Fingering herself through the powerful, magic inducing orgasm wrecking through her body. Seeing her writhing on the floor had his own release exploding over his body.

“Fuck! Oh fuck…” He grunted, jerking off his cock.

Before the high of his orgasm could fade, Dean watched as (Y/N)’s body went limp on the floor and he quickly crawled over to her.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)! Open those beautiful eyes for me, pretty girl.” He tapped her cheek firmly holding his breath.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open revealing the beautiful (Y/C/E) eyes he fell in love with when he first met her nearly a decade ago. He pulled up his pants, securing them enough to pick her up and carry her to her room within the bunker. Laying her on the bed, he pulled the covers over her.

“T-Thank you.” She mumbled before her eyes closed and her breathing became steady, falling asleep.

Over the next few days, things between him and her were tense and awkward. They spent most of her time in the bunker avoiding each other except when they went out to find the he-witch that cursed her. Dean had enjoyed beating the crap out of him before (Y/N) ended him with one of her witch killing bullets.

Now, everyone was over for Christmas and Dean was no longer in the holiday mood. He was sitting alone in his man cave drinking whiskey from the bottle. The only lights on were the string lights around the ceiling and they were set for dim making it as dark as his mood was.

“Dean?”

Her voice had warm currents of electricity flowing over his skin, “Hey.”

“Sam and Cas were looking for you. Everything okay?”

He took another long drink from the bottle before she walked over taking it from him. He watched as she tipped the mouth of the bottle to her lips while taking a drink. Her tongue darted out, swiping the small drops left on her lips. He clenched his fist on his thigh as his cock begged to come out.

Her eyes darted down to his fist then shined with tears welling within them. His heart cracked.

“I can see I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’ll grab my stuff and head out.”

She started towards the door when he stood and grasped her wrist. Pulling her to him, Dean didn’t know how to tell her everything. That he loved her. He wanted her to move into the bunker forever. He wanted to wake up every morning beside her. Make love to her.

“Dean, please. You’re making this hard for me.”

He snapped out of his mind, “Making what hard?”

“Look, I don’t remember anything that happened when I was cursed. All I remember is I woke up naked in my bed here with you sleeping on my floor. I know Sam told me what happened when I arrived here and in the shower room. I know you must hate the sight of me. I don’t want things to be weird around us.”

He closed his eyes, running his trembling hands down her arms. He squeezed her hands trying to center his desire filled mind to find the right words.

“(Y/N), I don’t want things to be weird either, but I also can’t go back to the way things were.”

She sniffled, “I know. Which is why I’m going to leave and never bother you again. I’m so-sorry for always being a burden.”

“You’re not… why do you think you’re a burden? You’ve never been a burden.”

“I got tricked by the he-witch because I was in his bar drinking away my feelings for you. That’s why he hexed me so I would have no choice but face you. To tell you that I love you and want to be with you. I know you don’t want that. Not with me anyway. I’m just… I'm nobody.”

Dean swore he heard pieces of his heart shattering on the ground in between them. (Y/N) pulled away from him walking towards the door and he knew this would be the only moment he had to tell her the truth or to let her go once and for all.

“(Y/N), wait!” He caught her at the door.

“Please don–”

She never finished the sentence as Dean pressed her against the door and kissed her. His hands on either side of her face while hers gripped the hem of his flannel.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much that my chest hurts when you’re not here with me. I’m not good enough for you so I stayed away hoping you would find someone worthy of your love. After watching you be hexed, I can’t stand the thought of anyone else being with you, touching you, loving you.”

Tears were coming down her cheeks, “When Sam told me that you didn’t have sex with me to break the curse, I figured it was because I repulsed you. That you couldn’t be attracted to someone as damaged as I am.”

“Sweetheart, there is nothing about you that is repulsive or damaged. You are all that is good in this fucked up world. If I make love to you it won’t be when you are hexed and won’t remember it. I love you too much to take an easy way to get into your pants. I want to earn that honor to love you.”

He stared down at her as she searched his eyes, “You earned that honor the moment you swooped in and saved me from a pack of wolves. I’m yours.”

That was all he needed to hear before picking her up and taking her to his room. For the rest of the night, he spent showing her how much he loved her.

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#spnchristmasbingo

[reigningqueenofwords]

I Wish

Word count: 941

Read on AO3

Final part of Just a Glimpse

Rolling over, you furrowed your brows in your sleep. Things felt…different. Blinking, you opened your eyes. You never moved so fast in your life. “Sammy!” You yelled, darting from your bed, out into the hallway. Your bare feet moved you to your son’s room faster than you thought possible.

You burst in and let out a sigh of relief. There lay your sleeping child. “Y/N!” You spun around when you heard your father’s voice. He pulled you into a hug, both of you letting out silent tears. “Oh, fuck, I’ve missed you!” You choked out.

Gripping his shirt, you clung to him. “Dad!” You sobbed. Part of you kept expecting Sam to come out of his room, but that wouldn’t be happening. You’d never see Sam again.

Sitting at the breakfast table, you sniffed. Your eyes were red and puffy from the on and off crying. Dean was getting Sammy down for his morning nap, having missed him. Hearing footsteps, you slowly looked up. You were in one of Sam’s long sleeved shirts that you’d swiped from his room. Nothing in his room had been touched since his death. The sleeves went to your first knuckles, and swallowed you whole.

Dean sat across from you, the pain in his eyes. “I thought you’d be happy to be home?” He asked softly.

You swallowed. “I am, dad, but…” You sighed.

“Sam.” He nodded, understanding. You didn’t have to tell him anything that happened, as he had those memories now. He remembered watching you and Sam interact, remembered how Sam adored the toddler.

Wiping your nose, you choked out another sob. It had hurt when you were a small child, when you’d barely understood. This time was far, far worse. You’d become close to your uncle, and you never got to say goodbye. “I wish I had known.” You breathed. “Known that when I went to sleep last night, that I would be brought home in my sleep.”

Dean felt bad, he’d asked Cas to do it that way. Not wanting the pain of a heartbreaking goodbye. What he hadn’t thought of, was the scene before him. Watching his baby girl breakdown.

Suddenly you stopped and took a breath. A smile made it’s way across your face, worrying him. He furrowed his brows, wondering what was going through your head. “UNCLE CAS!” You yelled, getting up. You looked excited, like a small child on Christmas Eve, awaiting Santa. When he didn’t appear right away, you yelled again. “UNCLE CASTIEL!”

“What’s wrong?” He asked, getting up and gripping your arms lightly. “Talk to me.” Dean all but begged.

“Y/N?” Cas appeared with the fluttering of wings. “Is everything alright?” He asked, a concerned expression on his face.

You pulled yourself from your father’s arms and faced your uncle. “Bring him here.” You grinned. “Go to when Uncle Sam and Mom die.” He raised an eyebrow. “They won’t be messing up the past. They will be gone, and the years that they were dead, they still will be to everyone. Get to them. Bring him here. Bring them both here.” You were talking quickly.

Cas thought it over. “I’m not strong enough right now.” He told you sadly. Your shoulders slumped and your smile fell.

“But I am.” Spinning your eyes went wide. “Hi, Y/N.” Chuck gave you a smile. It’d been so long since you’d seen him. “Your pain screamed so loudly that I could not ignore it. And, after all, having another Winchester around couldn’t hurt.”

“Seriously?” You asked.

“Seriously.” He smiled before snapping his fingers, and he was gone.

There was a crash in the kitchen, making the three of you jump. “Dean?! Y/N?!” Sam’s voice rang through the bunker.

Grinning, you ran to the kitchen. Sam’s clothes were bloody, torn, and dirty, but he showed no signs of injuries. “Uncle Sam!” Your eyes lit up.

Sam pulled you into a hug. “I’ve missed you.” He sighed.

“Dean?” Came a voice you didn’t recognize. “Sam?”

Dean had rushed in behind you and was staring at a woman he hadn’t seen in years. “Baby?” His voice was barely audible.

She nodded. “One moment I’m dying…the next I’m here. Where am I? Heaven?”

He grinned and shook his head. “No, baby. You’re home. 12 years after the day you were supposed to die.” He explained before cupping her cheeks and pulling her into a kiss. “There’s so much we need to talk about. But, first…” He turned to you. “Y/N, say welcome home to your mom.”

“Baby?” She looked at you, shocked. You were sure that was partially from how you looked.

“Yeah, mom. It’s me.” You were now crying happy tears. “It’s really me.”

Sam was still in shock, but there was someone he really wanted to see. “Is his room still in the same spot?” He asked you.

“Yeah, so is yours.” You told him. “He’s napping right now, but I’m sure that you can go check on him without waking him.”

“I’ll give you and Dean a chance to catch up with your mom. Right now, I have a little man to see.” Sam grinned, kissing your forehead before walking out.

Dean couldn’t stop staring at your mom. She kept looking between the two of you. “Is there someone else here?” She asked. “Did you have another kid?” Her face was hopeful that Dean was happy, but the pain was clear. To her, she had just seen him not that long ago.

He shook his head. “There’s a lot to talk about, like I said. Come on, we’ll fill you in.” His fingers laced with hers.

[littlebluejaydraws]

I just think Cas should have healed Crowley here I would have enjoyed it

ID: A series of four drawings following an added scene from Supernatural where Cas heals an injured Crowley.

The first image is fully painted and shows a close up of Crowley's face and upper shoulders. His face is beat up with his left eye swollen shut and a large gash across his right cheek.

The second image is a simpler style in grey scale and without shading. It shows Crowley with the same injuries as the first image but zoomed out to show Cas standing to his right. Cas has his left hand raised to touch Crowley's forehead to heal him. Cas' use of grace is shown by a pink and yellow glow around his eyes and around Crowley's head. There are two exclamation marks next to Crowley's head.

The third image is also in grey scale. Cas has lowered his head and is now looking forwards, past Crowley. Crowley has turned to look at him in surprise, as is indicated by two question marks next to his head.

The fourth image is also in grey scale and further zoomed out to show that Cas and Crowley are standing in a loose circle with Sam and Dean. Cas and Crowley are both looking away from each other now and blushing, Crowley more obviously than Cas.

End ID

[hollybell51]

Someone* should** write a fic in that scene where sam and dean and cas drink at the kitchen table together after jack’s death and after sam gets up dean and cas sort of start moving closer together until they’re practically pressed against each other and dean’s hunched over and he looks across/up at cas over his drink and says something about how he’s glad cas is there with them (yknow that thing he does when he says “us” instead of “me”) and cas just nods cause they’re at the point of mutual bullshit-seeing-through, and he puts his own drink down and places his hand on dean’s shoulder (this gesture is obligatory in all non-au destiel fics i don’t make the rules) and tells him he’s glad he’s there too, and something about how jack was lucky (or something, not sure about the exact phrasing) to have dean etc etc and dean says he was lucky (:/) to have all of them, then cas leans a little closer and says “i mean it, dean” in that super serious gravelly voice and all the laughter is gone from his face, but he looks so peaceful and content and dean just swallows, nods, looks away and his mind is going absolutely haywire cause it’s cas, his best friend cas, and he’s drunk, and cas is a little buzzed, and their emotions are on the fritz, and jack has literally just died, but it’s also cas. and then cas goes “dean?” and dean looks up and has the most profound moment of perfect clarity and his brain is hurtling through everything he and cas have been through and all the little too-long glances, the too-short touches, cas saying his name and standing too close but also somehow not close enough, the “profound bond” and everything everything everything and it’s only a second and cas is still looking at him with his hand on dean’s shoulder, and dean just does the only thing that makes sense and kisses his best friend.

[vaicomcas]

One More Bitter Cas Girl Vent Fic

I fulfilled my promise in my tags and wrote a ficlet to incorporate my own version of Castiel's "confession" for a redo of 15x18. (I did change it a bit to fit the story) Because I can't stand how that confession took everything good Castiel ever did and gave all the credit to Dean Winchester.

This is not a proper fic; it's badly written, it's pure self-indulgence, it's contrived and doesn't make too much sense, but it's my truth. You've been warned.

CW: subverting 15x18. hostile to Dean Winchester. Does not have a happy ending. Cas still sacrificed himself, but at least he was the hero who saved the world and Jack.

This can be considered a companion piece to my other bitter Cas girl vent fic The Miracle that is an alternate explanation of 15x20.

synopsis:

In shock and disillusion from Dean's betrayal Amara let herself be absorbed into Chuck, but in the last moment, she realized she wanted to be free and could use the darkness of the Empty to power herself. If was too late but she transmitted the message to the next celestiel being which happened to be Cas.

Cas used Dean's attack of Billie as opportunity to draw Billie out of her library to the bunker, where Chuck killed Billie. Then Cas summoned the Empty, knowing that Amara could use the Empty to bury Chuck forever. His happiness came from: he let go of his self-hate and asserted his own worth to Dean; he knew that his action would lead to a world without Chuck where Jack will be free.

The Truth

scene 1 is from 15x17 Unity. The other 2 are from 15x18 Despair. Lines from the show are in italics.

---------------------------------------------

Amara

“Sam and Dean, they are using Jack to destroy us.”

Amara knew then already.  But she still didn’t want to believe it.

“No, but…Dean can’t hurt me.”

Chuck looked at his sister with pity.

“No, but he could send you to the meat grinder with a wink and a smile.”

Amara was stunned. 

Dean lied to her.  Dean had looked her in the eye with such sincerity, and told her he could never hurt her.

She had cared about Dean.  She had cared about the world.  She was willing to put her own eternal life on the line to fight God.

Her love meant nothing, less than nothing.  It was turned into a weapon against both her brother and herself.  A disposable weapon at that.

Amara was surprised that it wasn’t anger she felt.  It was exhaustion. Everything in sight exhausted her.  The mildewed walls.  The dented shelves.  The dim lights. 

Every sensation in this world that she had cherished, now felt like an assault on her being.  An ugly, cold, hateful assault that came at her relentlessly.

She was the darkness.  Darkness at the beginning of time.  Darkness without end.  She longed for that all-encompassing darkness now. Away from this ugly deceitful world.

But there was no going back.  She had allowed herself to be entangled with her omnipotent twin.  She had been betrayed, and now she was trapped. 

Chuck said words about balance, about a fresh start.  But she didn’t bother listening. 

When Chuck smiled at her and held out his hand, Amara took it.  And let herself be absorbed into her brother.  What else was left for her?

Yet, in the millisecond before their hands touched, a spark of self-preservation broke through her disillusionment.  No, this was not what she wanted.

 Too late, she realized how she could find her strength.  How she could find her peace.  How she could become herself once again. 

Not how, but where.

She didn’t have time to act with her powerful brother right there.  But in the last microsecond of the last millisecond, she sent out a cloaked message to the nearest celestial being capable of receiving it.

“Take me to eternal darkness, and there will be peace for all of us.”

The nearest celestial being was right next door. 

Castiel didn’t have time to wonder what the message meant.  At that moment, he was preoccupied with Jack’s agony, as cracks of light spread on the Nephilim's face. Then the next moment, his father burst through the door, one eye glowing silver, one eye glowing black.

A sickening realization hit Castiel.  God was so powerful, he was capable of consuming his sister, his equal.  Billie’s plan was never going to work.  They could never have killed God using Jack, using anything that was part of this world, part of God’s creation. 

-----------------

2. Jack

“How are you feeling? You’ve been quiet.”

Cas looked at Jack while they leaned on the Impala, waiting for Sam and Dean.

“How long have you been waiting to ask me that?” 

Jack was expecting it.  He could tell Cas was worried in the few hours of relative peace since he was brought back from the Empty.  Not that Cas showed it.  But Jack could feel it the whole time.

Jack could always feel how Castiel was feeling, even when he was soulless.  Even now, when he had lost his powers.

At his question, Castiel lowered his head and chuckled at himself.  A wave of affection radiated out, as if he was proud of Jack for seeing through him. 

For some reason, it made tears well up in Jack’s eyes.

Jack wanted to confess.  He wanted Cas to know that his pride and affection were misplaced.

“I was ready to die, and I wanted to. For Sam, for Dean, for the world. I wanted to make things right. And now... I don't know why I'm even here.”

Jack’s words hit Castiel like a tsunami of pain.  

Castiel knew this feeling all too well.   He knew what it was like to feel worthless and hopeless.  He had made peace with it.  He thought he deserved it.

With an agonizing horror that pierced his very core, he recognized that Jack had been in the same hell.  It broke Castiel’s heart.  He could never make peace with that. He never will.

He steeled himself to conceal his sorrow.  He turned to Jack, reaching out with his grace, his mind, his voice.  He spoke urgently and forcefully.

“Jack, you never needed absolution from Sam or Dean, or from me.  We don’t care about you because you are useful or because you fit into some grand design.  We care about you because you are you.”

Jack felt Castiel’s wings wrapped around him in the etheric plane, the way Cas embraced him so many times before. He heard Castiel’s heartbeat, sure and strong.  He saw Castiel’s wavelengths, gently illuminating the world for him. 

With his father next to him, he realized, he didn’t want to die.

Jack let his tears fall.  “God, the Empty, Billie…everyone is so mad at us.  There is nothing I can do to protect us.  I am scared.”

Cas put a consoling hand on Jack’s shoulder, not knowing what more to say.  Jack shouldn’t be trying to protect them.  He was supposed to protect Jack. 

How could he do that?  How could he stop the most powerful forces in this universe?  How could they protect Jack from God when they were all part of God’s creation?

Suddenly Castiel’s eyes lit up. Not everything was God’s creation.

He remembered Amara’s message.  “Take me to eternal darkness, and there will be peace for all of us.”  He understood it.

It didn’t matter that he was an insignificant cog of his father’s machinations. It didn’t matter that his power had been failing him.  It didn’t matter that he no longer had any celestial allies left.  There was still something he could do.  And he had to do something, to keep Jack from every kind of harm.  It was his promise.  It would be his happiness.

----------------

3. Cas

The sigil glowed on the door of room 7B.  Death was pounding on the other side of the door.

“She’s gonna get through that door, she’s gonna kill you, then she’s gonna kill me.”  Dean despaired in utter defeat, seeing no way out.

“No.” Castiel said calmly.  “That is not going to happen.  I will not let that happen.”

“Com’on, Cas.”  Dean groaned.  “You need to accept reality.”

Castiel smiled.  “Billie is exactly where I want her.  She is weakened, dying, and you have drawn her away from the library which is a source of her power.”

“I drew her away?  What the hell are you talking about?”

“I knew you’d want to kill Billie.  I knew you didn’t stand a chance, and would have to retreat. And Billie would follow you to the bunker.”

Dean’s face turned stony.  Cas made screwed-up plans behind his back, yet again.  

“You planned this? You are using me as bait?  What’s wrong with you?”

“Dean, I didn’t tell you because I couldn’t risk Billie sensing your thoughts.  I would never endanger you.  Billie can’t kill you.  Chuck-my father- wouldn’t allow it.   I know him, Dean.  You and Sam were always the only ones he was obsessed with.  He still wants you to be his story.  He will always want that.  Billie plotted to kill him.  And now she is trying to kill you.  Chuck wouldn’t let it stand.”

The building shook violently.  The banging on the door stopped.  It sounded like a storm was raging outside the dungeon. 

Castiel heard Billie grunting.  He saw the sigil on the door flickering.  He could feel two cosmic entities clashing.  Their blows sent shock waves pounding on his true form.  He didn’t waver.

“Chuck is here.  He and Death are engaged in battle.”

“And that’s your plan?”  Dean’s shock turned into incredulity, then anger.  “It’s not enough we got one cosmic big bad gunning after us, you want two?”

“I want them to fight each other.”

“That’s a stupid plan!  Whoever wins, they are coming for us next!”

“They will.  And whoever that is, I will destroy them.”

Dean sighed.  “Cas.  You are really losing it.  Even back when you had the power of the purgatory souls inside you, you could never have taken on Death or God.  Now…”

Cas smiled again.  “Now I am just a broken angel with barely any power left.  I know, Dean.”

Cas casted his eyes down, as if preparing a confession.  To accomplish what he has set out to do, he needed to set himself free.

 He returned his gaze to Dean, light of the truth shining in his blue eyes. 

“Dean, I know how you see me. You think I am impulsive, misguided, the reason why things go wrong.  You think I try to be the good guy, but I failed more often than I succeeded.  You think I am only strong when I fight by your side, as your blunt weapon.  I am not. Everything I have ever done, the good and the bad, I did for love.  I raised you and Sam from perdition for love.  I led my angel armies for love. And I made a deal with the Empty for love.”

Dean stared at him, dumbfounded.  “What are you talking about?”.

“When Jack was dying, I made the deal to save him.  The price was my life.  When I experience a moment of true happiness, the Empty would be summoned, and it would take me forever.  The Empty that is eternal darkness.  The Empty that was not created by God, and could be used against him.”  

Outside, Cas could hear Billie gasping and wheezing.   Despite the claim of the original Death that in the end he would reap God, this Death had been weakened.  God was about to destroy Billie.  He didn’t have much time left.

He no longer paid attention to Dean.  His eyes glowed softly as he prayed to Jack.  He could feel Jack’s grace responding to him across the etheric plane. 

“Jack, remember what I said to you earlier.  You don’t need anybody’s absolution, you don’t need anybody’s approval.  With or without a soul, with or without power, you always just wanted to do good. Jack, you ARE good, and you are important. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise.”

There.  He felt it.  Jack believed him.  Although still faint, a wave of hope reverberated in Jack’s soul. That hope amplified in Castiel’s grace, endlessly, triumphantly.

Death has been destroyed.  God will be next.  Evil will rot in the Empty.  A new day is coming for heaven and earth. It will be Jack’s world, finally and truly.

Jack will be free. The whole world will be free.

The door exploded.  Chuck walked in, smiling smugly. But it was too late for him.

Happiness flooded Castiel's grace. His wings rose with joy and reverence, saluting the new world to come.

Pools of amorphous black goo seeped in through the ceiling and formed a swirling portal.

The black tendrils hissed and spread, enveloping Castiel and Chuck.

Inside Chuck, Amara sighed with relief. Darkness. Eternal darkness. Its incomparable power was coursing through her now.   She took control. "Let's go home, brother."

Cas smiled, head held high. He prayed one last time.

"I love you, Jack."

[thehappyearth]

I asked ChatGBT to write the reunion of Cas and Dean in heaven and it’s honestly better than what we got.

Me: can you write the scene where Dean winchester meets Castiel in heaven? 

Answer:

INT. HEAVEN - A TRANQUIL MEADOW - DAY

A vast, serene meadow stretches as far as the eye can see. Soft sunlight filters through the fluffy clouds above, casting a gentle glow on the surroundings. The air is filled with a sense of peace and tranquility.

DEAN WINCHESTER, wearing his classic leather jacket, looks around, slightly bewildered, as he takes in the ethereal beauty of Heaven. His eyes widen with a mix of awe and disbelief. He notices a figure standing a few yards away, bathed in a radiant light.

Dean squints and recognizes the figure as CASTIEL, the angel who had become his loyal friend and ally through countless battles.

DEAN Cas? Is that really you?

CASTIEL turns towards Dean, his blue eyes shimmering with warmth and familiarity. He wears his usual trench coat, but it seems to glow with a heavenly aura.

CASTIEL Dean Winchester. It's good to see you again.

A smile slowly spreads across Dean's face, a mixture of relief and joy.

DEAN You have no idea how good it is to see you, Cas.

They slowly approach each other, their footsteps light and almost floating. The meadow seems to embrace their reunion, its vibrant colors intensifying.

CASTIEL Heaven is everything I imagined, Dean. It's a place of peace, where all the burdens are lifted. I never thought I would see it, but here I am.

DEAN You deserve it, Cas. You saved the world more times than I can count. You saved me. I wouldn't be here without you.

Castiel's eyes shimmer with emotion, his voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and humility.

CASTIEL You've always been worth saving, Dean. I'm just glad I could be there for you when you needed me the most.

Dean takes a step closer, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

DEAN I wish you didn't have to die for me, Cas. I wish we had more time together.

CASTIEL Every moment we had, Dean, was worth it. You taught me about love, about being human. You showed me the value of sacrifice. I wouldn't change a thing.

They stand face to face now, their bond unbroken even in the afterlife.

DEAN I miss you, Cas. I miss our talks, our adventures. I miss having you by my side.

CASTIEL And I miss you, Dean. But remember, even in Heaven, you're never alone. You carry our memories and the love we shared. I'll always be with you.

Dean's eyes moisten as he reaches out, his hand trembling, and gently touches Castiel's face. Castiel leans into the touch, closing his eyes momentarily.

DEAN I love you, Cas. Always have, always will.

CASTIEL And I love you, Dean Winchester. That love is eternal.

They embrace, their souls intertwining in a bond that transcends time and space. As they hold each other, the meadow around them shimmers with a radiant light, symbolizing the everlasting connection between them.

FADE OUT.

[stackthedeck]

hi!! I was wondering what happened to your t4t butch dean and trans cas fic?? Im really interested to read it if you still have it! butch dean is WAY to close to my heart. anyways have a nice day! <3

this has been in my ask box for literal months but I've decided to rewatch Supernatural (I'm not well) and I remembered this fic and this ask so... I'll probably never finish the fic or post it on ao3, but I did write this one scene and I like it a lot even though I like to think I'm a better writer now, but I wanna post it.

So for context this is happening in early season 5 where Sam and Dean are separated and also the plan for the fic as a whole was that Cas's complete separation from heaven was also mirrored by her gender journey, so Cas in this doesn't think of himself as a man, but has accepted that people view his vessel as a man and has excepted it. Basically, her egg hasn't cracked yet.

The road has been lonely since Sam left. Good lonely. For the first time in… well ever, Dean’s not playing mom or big sister. She’s just a hunter. A hunter who doesn’t have to look over her shoulder every second to make sure her baby brother isn’t getting maimed or hooked on demon blood. It’s good lonely… kind of.

It’s just that the front seat of the Impala is so empty and no matter how high she cranks the volume, the car just feels so quiet. The road just goes on and on forever. It sucks not having back-up on hunts, but Dean’s capable. According to the angels, she’s too important to die so she’s been pushing her luck lately.

The road hasn’t felt this empty since Dad went missing.

Dean’s pulled from her thoughts by a buzzing in her pocket. She pulls out her phone and sees a familiar number on the screen. The last time Dean ran into Cas, she gave him a burner phone so that they could keep in touch.

“Hello?” She says, phone wedged between his ear and shoulder.

“Dean, it’s Castiel,” Cas’s voice says from the phone, “where are you?”

“On the road.” Dean looks around for a mile marker, but it’s in the dead of night and there are no streetlights. Dean rambles off the interstate road she’s on and takes a wild guess at what mile she’s at. “I can pull off at the next exit if it’s important.”

A woosh of air and a flap of wings reverberate through the car. Dean looks over and Cas is in the passenger seat. “You don’t need to pull off,” Cas says into the phone as he stares at Dean.

Dean huffs and hangs up the phone, shoving it back into her pocket. “Any updates on God?”

“Nothing since the last time I saw you-” Cas sighs and looks out the windshield “-but I’m still looking.”

“If there’s nothing new—” Dean drums her fingers on the steering wheel “—then why are you here?”

Cas does his head tilt and Dean pointedly keeps her eyes on the road. Sure, she finds Cas’s clumsy attempts at expressing emotion cute, but it’s cute like a baby or a puppy. “I sensed that you were lonely.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Whatever happened to not perching on my shoulder?”

“Things are different now.” Cas’s words hit Dean’s ears with such certainty and finality, but she doesn’t feel like they’re true. Things are exactly the same. She’s still saving people, hunting things. It’s the family business, just without the family. Okay well, maybe things are different.

Dean does her best to keep her eyes on the road, but the highway is empty at this time of night. It’s so easy to let her eyes drift to the angel in her front seat, silhouetted by moonlight. His face is stone, that typical neutral expression, but Dean can see in his eyes that something is eating at him.

“So sitting here in silence is your grand plan for making me less lonely?” 

Cas shifts in his seat, his tie suddenly becoming very interesting. “Can I ask you a personal question, Dean?”

Dean does her best not to sigh. This better not be a chick-flick moment or worse yet, a Christian movie moment. “I thought you already knew everything about me? What with the rebuilding my soul and all.”

“I want to hear it from you.” Cas drops his tie and meets Dean’s eyes.

Dean nods, pursing her lips. “Alright, shoot.”

“How did you decide to…” Cas hesitates “...decide to… not look like the other females of your species?”

Dean laughs. If Cas had asked her that a month ago, she’d assume he was trying to get her to grow her hair out and start wearing pink. But she trusts Cas, trusts that he likes that humans don’t perfectly line up with God’s vision. “You mean, why am I a lesbian?”

“No, I understand that,” Cas says, “women are very pleasing to look at.”

Dean smiles. She’s surprised that the strip club incident didn’t turn Cas off of women or just humans in general.

“So, why am I butch?”

Cas nods. “Yes, I believe that is the term.”

“I don’t know, I just am.” Dean drums her fingers against the steering wheel. “Sam took a gender studies course when he went off to college, he probably gets this stuff more than I do.”

“Well, I want to hear it from you.”

Dean sighs and rubs at the back of her head. “I don’t know, I guess Dad was a real traditional guy. From what I remember, Mom cooked and cleaned, took care of me and Sammy and Dad went to work. I don’t remember much of Mom, but I remember being in the kitchen with her and her handing me baby Sammy to hold while she was busy. I didn’t mind those things because I was with her, you know?”

Dean stares through the windshield, watching the landscape blur as the car speeds past. “And then Mom died and Dad still went to work. And suddenly it was just me and baby Sam alone in motel rooms for days. I think Dad was so caught up in his revenge that he forgot that Sam and I needed a dad and a mom. So I started cooking and looking after Sam because if I didn’t we’d starve.”

Dean can feel the words spilling out of her like a busted dam. She’s never told anyone any of this, but now that she is, she can’t stop.

“I think Dad expected me to be the new mom. He’d come back to the motel rooms from hunts or from bars and be furious if there wasn’t something to eat. And it’s not like he ever went grocery shopping. He’d just leave a credit card—that barely ever worked by the way—or cash and expect me to figure it out! I couldn’t stand that he treated me like his little wife. Then, Sam started looking at me like I was his mom and not his big sister.

“It didn’t help that I looked like Mom. I have her eyes, you know. And when I was younger I had long curly blonde hair. Sam liked to brush it, which was good because I didn’t. I think it was soothing for him or something, but that’s probably why he keeps his hair long now.”

Dean’s rambling. She knows she is and she’s doing it on purpose because she doesn’t want to say what comes next. Cas’s eyes are fixed on her, but Dean’s not taking her eyes off the road. She could stop talking, change the subject, or give an easy answer. But if she doesn’t tell Cas right now, she’ll never tell anyone. And it’ll just keep festering and rotting inside of her.

“Dad would run his hands through my hair and tell me how pretty I was when he was drunk. It creeped me out, always made my skin crawl. He never… you know… did anything. He’d look at me the same way he looked at old pictures of Mom. I know it’s not true, or at least I don’t believe it’s true, but I feel like he only saw Mom when he looked at me. I wasn’t his daughter, I was the ghost of his dead wife. A ghost that he couldn’t salt and burn.

“And he treated me like I was going to go up in flames like Mom. For god’s sake, Sam learned to shoot a gun before I did! Dad wouldn’t take me on hunts, wouldn’t train me because if I was alive he could pretend she was too. One day I couldn’t take it anymore. I stole Dad’s clippers and buzzed my head.

“And boy, was Dad mad.” Dean winces, squeezing the steering wheel until her knuckles turn white. “He was really mad. But suddenly, he didn’t care if I went up in flames. He put a gun in my hands and took me on hunts. And it felt amazing.”

Dean smiles at the memory of the first time Dad clapped her on the back and bought her a slice of pie after a successful hunt. She can still feel that warm swell of pride after her first ghost, first vampire, first demon.

“My hair started growing out and it looked bad, like so bad. But Dad started hiding his clippers so I just had to let it grow out. Then one day he dropped me and Sam off at Bobby’s place and he took one look at me and gave me my first crew cut.”

Dean looks at herself in the rearview mirror. It’s kind of embarrassing that she’s had the same haircut since she was fifteen, but if it ain’t broke. “I remember looking at myself in the mirror and thinking, that’s me. I didn’t look like Mom anymore, I was just me for the first time.”

Dean feels wetness on her cheek and realizes that she’s crying. They’re not tears of sadness but of relief. Man, it feels so good to get all that off her chest. But still, she always ends up crying around Cas and she really can’t make a habit out of this.

“Thank you for telling me that, Dean.” Cas’s eyes aren’t trained on Dean but on his own reflection in the windshield. “I suppose I just have one more question.”

Dean shakes her head but smiles. Might as well continue this chick-flick moment. “Go ahead.”

“How does Dorothy shorten to Dean?” Cas tilts his head. “I’m unfamiliar with the nuances of human languages.”

Dean laughs at that, a good hard laugh that echoes through the car. “It doesn’t, not really.” Dean claps a hand on Cas’s shoulder, unable to stop grinning. “Sam was a little shit when I buzzed my head and he called me random boy names to get under my skin. I always liked those old cowboy movies so, whenever we’d play cowboys, Sam called me James Dean. The joke stuck and now I’m just Dean.”

“Huh,” Cas says, “you’ll have to show me those movies sometime. I’ve never seen a movie.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Cas,” Dean says, “we’ll have a girls’ night, paint our nails and watch cowboy movies.”

He’s joking but Cas doesn’t get jokes. “I would like to do this girls' night with you.” That’s a hint of an excited smile on Cas’s face and it makes Dean’s heart flutter. In the same way that puppies or babies make her heart flutter, of course.

“It’s getting late,” Cas says, turning towards Dean, “you should stop and get some rest.”

Dean shakes her head and sighs. It is late, really late, and she’d kill for a bed right now. “Wish I could Cas, but there aren’t exactly a lot of motels around.”

Cas frowns, furrowing his eyebrows. “I could drive,” he says after a moment of thinking, “and you can sleep in the backseat.”

Dean cocks an eyebrow. “You ever driven before?”

“No,” Cas says, “but I’m an angel of the lord, it can’t be that hard.”

“Tell you what,” Dean chuckles, “you give me an angel blade, and I’ll let you drive.”

“Dean, we’ve talked about this.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

…

When God created the angels he named them. Each name was unique and divine, but it also gave God power over the angels. The angels did not have the power to create, to choose so they took the names with gratitude. When Lucifer rebelled, he took new names: Satan, Morning Star, The Evil One, and many others. Castiel has not rebelled against God, just against heaven. When he finds God all will be set right. Castiel is keeping his name as a promise. He has not fallen…just questioning.

Castiel may see the importance of names, but the Winchesters do not. Sam is not Samuel, the name his mother gave him to honor his grandfather, he’s Sam or Sammy, or a million other strange words that Dean hurls at him. Dean is not Dorthy, the name her father gave her to honor her grandmother, she’s Dean. Cas is not Castiel anymore, he’s Cas and so much more.

Dean’s been calling Castiel Cas since their second meeting, it’s just a shortened version of his name; it’s not a big deal. But then… Cas is sitting in a diner with the Winchesters late one night, trying to track down the horsemen. The siblings are eating burgers and Cas has one in front of him too. He doesn’t need to eat, he's an angel, but he’s curious. He’s curious about a lot of things lately.

“Pass the ketchup, Cassie,” Dean says through a mouthful of food.

“What?” Cas looks up from contemplating his burger to stare at Dean.

“I said pass the ketchup?” Dean frowns, but then just reaches across Cas’s chest to grab the bottle at the end of the table. “Never mind, I got it.”

“No-” Cas swallows nervously “-I mean what did you call me?”

Dean and Sam put down their food and exchange glances. “...Cassie?” Dean says slowly.

Cas still doesn’t understand facial expressions. Humans read so far into a tiny movement of facial muscles. So he keeps his face very still. When Castiel was just a fledgling, Gabriel, Balthazar, and the other older angels would call him Cassie. Fledglings weren’t ready for the full responsibility of their names, so it made sense. But Gabriel continued to call him that well into his adulthood. It was sweet, made Cas feel seen and seen by someone so powerful and important as an archangel. And then Lucifer fell and angels got much more serious about names.

“It’s like Sammy,” Dean says, awkwardly bumping her shoulder into Cas, “are you good with that?”

Cas looks between Dean and Sam, unsure of what to say. He’s created tension, he can feel it, but he’s not sure how to fix it.

“Hey don’t worry about it, Cas,” Sam says a little too loudly, “you’re a grown man and it’s weird to be called something like Cassie or Sammy.” He shoots a tight-lipped frown at Dean.

“Bitch.” Dean reaches across the table to steal fries off Sam’s plate.

“Jerk!” Sam attempts to swat Dean’s hand away, but misses and Dean ends up trying to stick her tongue out at Sam and eat fries at the same time.

“I’m not a man, I’m an angel,” Cas says, looking toward Sam. “But, it’s fine,” he says, mostly to prevent any more petty squabbling. The nickname is a sign of sibling affection, both in heaven and on earth. It doesn’t matter that the way Dean said it makes his heart race and his mind reel. “Cassie is fine.”

“Well, Cassie-” Dean smiles at him “-are you going to eat that?” She doesn’t wait for a response, just snatches the burger off his plate.

And the things Dean calls him only got worse from there.

…

When Cas first met Dean, she accused him of being a “prince charming” and at the time Cas wasn’t sure what that meant, but he’s starting to get the picture. Something about saving someone only to be rewarded with a relationship. That’s not Cas.

He’s in the far corners of the globe looking for God, when he hears Dean’s voice. It’s a quiet voice in his head, but it is powerful and desperate. A prayer. Cas is close to God, he can feel it. If he just keeps going a little longer, he’ll finally make it. But Dean’s voice is in the back of his mind, calling, pleading.

Cas flies to Dean without another second of hesitation. As he gets closer, the details of the situation flood into his mind in an instant. From a human perspective, Dean and Sam are in the basement of an abandoned mansion, surrounded by people, baring gruesome smiles with knives and fists drawn. From Cas’s perspective, Dean and Sam’s souls shine in a haze of demon smog. Dean’s the brightest, familiar in it’s golden hue.

“Cas, we could use some angel mojo down hear!” Dean shouts, voice thick with blood. “...Please!”

The demons laugh like in a chorus of gnashing teeth. One steps forward, kicking Sam—who’s barely clinging to consciousness on the floor—as he moves to grab the front of Dean’s shirt.

“Scream all you like, little girl,” the demon whispers, his breath hot against Dean’s face. “The angels don’t take calls from the likes of you.”

Cas appears suddenly, hand on the demon’s head, smiting the creature inside its meat suit. Dean actually smiles when she sees him, not even looking at the shell of the demon that falls to the floor.

“You came,” She says, unaware that it holds the same power as a prayer.

Another round of hideous laughter comes from the gaggle of demons. “Oh, how the mighty fall,” another demon cackles.

Cas’s stomach drops. He’s not fallen, he’s still doing God’s will. How can protecting Dean not be his purpose?

“Dean Winchester,” the demon continues, “damsel in distress waiting for a prince to save her.”

Dean, despite three broken ribs, a twisted ankle, and several lost liters of blood, sprints at the demon, burying the knife in his chest. She moves to attack the next closest one, limping as the adrenaline wanes. Even so, she’s a machine and Cas watches her with aw.

“Cas,” Dean shouts, “a little help here!”

Cas bolts into action, smiting demons almost as fast as Dean can stab them. Once they’ve killed all the demons, Cas stands with his arms pressed to his side, watching Dean pull her knife from the final demon’s throat.

“I’m sorry,” Cas says.

Dean places a hand on her chest, cradling her broken ribs. “For what? You totally saved our asses there.”

“I do not wish to belittle you,” Cas says, “what that demon said, if I ever—”

“Can it, princess,” Dean says, “it wouldn’t be the first time a demon tried to get under my skin.”

Cas nods then steps forward with his hand raised to heal Dean. She nods back and that’s all the permission he needs to press his fingers to her forehead, healing her instantly.

Sam groans from the floor.

Dean jumps away from Cas, staring at her brother. “Umm, maybe take care of him too.”

“Yes, please,” Sam gasps, weakly wiping blood from his mouth.

Cas leans down, healing Sam as well. Sam stumbles to his feet, glaring at Cas. 

“Did you seriously heal her first?” Sam scoffs. “After she called you princess?”

“I did not!” Dean says.

“You totally did,” Sam says. “Cas, you’re just going to take that?”

Cas cast his eyes downward. He didn’t take any insult from it, but it seems he should have. “I am still unaware of human social rules, but Dean has made it clear that I am not to be her prince charming.”

“Yeah don’t be friggin’ sexist, Sammy.” Dean walks over, swinging an arm around Cas’s shoulder. “Cas is our princess in shining armor.”

“I believe I am wearing a trench coat.”

After the incident, Dean teases Cas by calling him princess. It’s just another nickname that makes its way into the many the Winchesters use for him. For the first month, Sam tries to get Dean to cut it out, but eventually, he gives up. Cas thought that Dean would drop it once it no longer annoyed her brother. It’s only when he has this thought does he realizes he doesn’t want her to stop. 

But she never does.

…

“Hey, angel,” Dean greets, shoving his shoulder the same way he shoves Sam.

“I don’t understand,” Cas says, “I do not call you human.”

“She’s flirting with you,” Sam shouts from over the impala.

“Bitch,” Dean shouts back.

“Jerk.”

Cas looks down at his vessel. He doesn’t like it being called angel, there is nothing divine about this meat suit—as Dean so often calls it—it simply carries his grace while he’s on earth.

“Cas? Earth to Cas? Cas?”

Cas startles, looking up to realize he had tuned out another Winchester argument. “What?”

“You don’t mind when I call you angel, right?” Dean says with a smirk. “You think I’m funny right?”

Cas stares into Dean’s eyes, swallowing thickly. A part of him knows—no, hopes that Dean does not see his body as him. Perhaps she knows better than anyone that what body one happens to inhabit does not define them.

“I don’t mind your nicknames, Dean,” Cas says, “but I do not find them funny.”

…

“Dean, I feel ridiculous,” Cas says through the door.

Dean waits in the hallway outside of Cas’s room.

“No you don’t,” she says, “you’re just worried I’ll think you like ridiculous.”

“What’s the difference?”

Dean chuckles at that, shaking her head.

“How do you feel, Cas?”

The door opens and Cas steps out.

“...I feel good,” she says.

She’s dressed much the same way she did when she thought she had to present her vessel as a man. But now with all the angels locked in heaven and Cas is very human, her body isn’t a vessel. It’s her. They’ve traded the slacks for a pencil skirt and nylon tights and replaced the shirt and tie with a white blouse. She’s been growing her hair out since she turned human, mostly by accident, it’s still not as long as she’d like it, but it will be. Dean’s been helping her get a smooth shave every morning and showing her what lotions to use to keep her skin soft. But Dean was never great at being a girl, so what perfume and makeup to use has been left to Google. They’re working on getting her on HRT, but it’s not like they have insurance. They have also considered a couple of spells too.

And she’s still wearing the same trench coat.

“How do I look?” Cas asks.

Dean steps forward, taking her hands in hers. She plants a kiss on her lips, soft and sweet with lipgloss.

“Like a baby in a trench coat,” Dean says, “my baby.”

[croc-odette]

imagining if spn allowed weather in later seasons and the scene where dean has a bloody face and is looking up at cas after sam jumps into hell and asks 'cas you're alive?' and cas touches him and heals him: but what if that had happened as it started raining