#the way cas mirrors dean just like jack will do eventually :')

[klinejack]

i needed 23 more episodes of just this

[mlobsters]

supernatural s14e20 moriah (w. andrew dabb)

dads fighting over killing their kid, sammy stressed. what a world

(jfc when jdm/john is talking in the recap i'm like godDAMN whose voice is he reminding of - oh right, i talked about this already when watching that very episode -_- good voice 10/10 both actors)

i wonder how far back it goes that they showed people getting their heads chopped off to the line "Lay your weary head to rest" in carry on my wayward song because i remember this song used to hit me in the feelings way back when (mentioned it still working for me in 6x22 at least.) anyway, i am also very literal with song lyrics and my little fanvids so i can't really criticize but tone 🤌

CASTIEL You should never have tried to lock him away. DEAN You know what? You're right. I never wanted to put him in that damn box. I wanted him dead. CASTIEL Dean. DEAN He's dangerous, Cas, and you knew it! You've known it for a long time! But that's okay. You know why? Because me and Sam, we've killed just about everything there is. And this -- Jack -- oh, we'll find a way. Because he's just another monster. CASTIEL You don't mean that. DEAN The hell I don't.

sigh, this is frustrating! but we gotta have conflict somewhere right, so dean's taking out is hurt and grief over mary on jack, making choices that are making jack worse. and now hellbent on killing him without taking any time to try to work the problem in another way

DEAN I don't know. Maybe we call Rowena, see if she can put together one of those, um, "soul bombs." SAM The...thing you were gonna use against the Darkness? DEAN Yeah, might actually put a dent in the kid. SAM Okay. (quietly) DEAN Sam, I know this isn't easy, okay? He -- I know how much he meant to you. He meant a lot to me. He was family. But this? This is not Jack anymore. He's hurting, he's killing people. This isn't gonna be easy, but we're gonna have to do the hard thing. We're gonna have to do the ugly thing. Ain't like it's the first time, though, right?

was he raring to kills cas when he killed all those people and angels when fake god juiced up on souls?

apparently yes! clearly forgot about that

wiki summary excerpt from 7x01 The ritual is successful, and Death appears, bound. He thinks that he has been summoned regarding Sam's hallucinations, and Dean looks to Sam, surprised by the news. Death asserts that he can't help Sam (there's only "one wall per customer"), and Dean tells him instead that they want him to kill Castiel. Before they can convince him, though, Castiel appears. He threatens to kill them all, but Dean reminds him that Death is under their control. It appears that they are at a stalemate.

ok, so is this truth spell business from jack everywhere? fic premise-y. and mirror universe for the company name, okay.

SAM You. Come on, man. You're always calling me a geek, but you know every word to every Led Zeppelin song -- backwards and forwards -- you can discuss in detail every major rock drummer between '67 and '84, and... you watch "Jeopardy!" every night.

not to mention nerding out over horror films, cars, etc etc. we are all but nerds in our own special ways

like, we're really going for truth spell gags here? what'd i say about tone? lol

well. stapler queen is cute

pretty place to film and nice shot. didn't expect chuck but knew he had to come around eventually. i do really enjoy rob benedict though. he's so good at being that chill aw shucks persona that chuck usually is. like hey what a nice smile, good to see him! wait, he's the absent-est of fathers and lets the world nearly implode on a regular basis

DEAN Yeah, guess your life isn't so perfect after all, EightPackMommy. SAM What? DEAN Yeah, she's got this blog. Yeah, you know what? Your kids aren't that cute. And that gluten-free popover looks like crap because there's no gluten in it. You know what I mean? I'll stop talking. SAM Probably a good plan.

hope we get better truth spell anecdotes than dean follows a mommy blogger (nope.) also are we really supposed to just take on this info that sam's favorite singer is actually celine dion? :p

cathartic until god yells at you

CHUCK Okay, look. I get it. All right, I'm from the deus from the machina, and you have questions.

all very twee

CHUCK: Listen, you guys know me. I'm hands-off. I built the sandbox -- you play in it. You want to fight Leviathans? Cool. You got that. You want to go up against -- what was it? -- the "British Men of Letters"? Okay. Little weak, but okay. But when things get really bad, like the Apocalypse or the Other Apocalypse, that's when I have to step in.

i will always appreciate a roast of the bmol plotline

SAM So you're saying Jack is Apocalyptic? CHUCK The kid said, "Stop lying," and I don't know if you noticed, but the world kinda went insane.

the whole crazy powered up nephilim actually equates to god powers, sure

lol what. the colt 2.0 but actually kills anything

CHUCK So, this doesn't so much fire bullets as it sends a wave of multi-dimensional energy across a perfectly balanced quantum link between whoever's shooting it and whoever they're shooting at.

this is giving very crack treated seriously (or just plain crack) vibes

CHUCK Uh, whatever happens to the person you're aiming at also happens to you. So you kill him... DEAN You die.

🙄okay.

CAS I don't understand why we're talking about killing Jack. Y-You can fix him. You can --You can restore his soul. That's why I called you. CHUCK Yeah, not so much. SAM You're God. CHUCK Well, souls are complicated -- even for me. Besides, even if I could, would you really want -- I mean, after what he did? CASTIEL Then we bind him. We throw him in the Cage until -- DEAN Stop, Cas. You heard him. This is the only way. CAS And Billie said the only way to defeat Michael was to lock you in a box. CHUCK Ugh. Billie. I liked the old Death better. He was all about fried pickles and tickle porn. This new Death -- she's always sticking her scythe where it doesn't belong. CAS There has to be another way. DEAN Well, there's not. Now, I know you don't like it, and I don't really care. 'Cause you just heard it from God Himself that this is the only thing that can kill Jack, so either get on board, or walk away.

i think part of why i'm finally warming up to cas is him consistently caring about someone - like, willing to go to the mat with anyone for jack. and there's less of this bumbling clueless angel schtick periodically thrown in.

and something again i don't like is when anyone does this shut up there's no other way it's my way or the highway business. i feel like i talked about this before... maybe with the soul bomb business? and probably the box too? rushing into deadly action that can't be walked back with almost no information. which i compared to agonizing over how to deal with lucifer all season in s5 and finally accepting sam going into the cage was the only viable option left. there's just so many plot beats and so much going on at one time. and then dean rushes into shit and i'm just like STOP BREATHE WAIT.

hopefully not plot relevant flask filling, unlike last time we saw him do it (that i recall) in 7x18

music (lennertz and wynn) at the beginning reminds me a bit of hannibal bloodfest again, the muted version that was in 14x08 when jack had died from the heavenly tuberculosis

glad sam is standing up to dean's willingness to again sacrifice himself at the drop of a hat and point out they haven't even tried to fix anything, just rushing into these awful solutions. and pointing out that they got themselves into this situation in the first place by bringing jack back. (and hey, maybe consider chuck's motivations in all this)

not a great hug but way less creepy than hugging soulless sam at least. glad he didn't actually kill his grandmother and has calmed down a bit and acknowledged he's not feeling anything anymore

CHUCK No. Sam... you and your brother, of all the Sams and Deans in all the multiverse, you're my favorite. You're just so interesting. I mean, like that thing that happened at the office earlier today -- that was crazy, right? SAM Do you watch us? When you're not here, are -- are you... watching us? CHUCK Yeah. I mean, you're my favorite show.

creeper asshole. what new way can we make them suffer today

SAM Wait a second. Why, when the chips are down, when the world is -- is failing, why does it always have to be on us?! CHUCK Because you're my guys.

good to see sam yelling at chuck about it.

sigh

like this really is soul bomb 2.0 (i was not a fan). some half cocked plan with new random made up weapon that gets introduced mid episode in the season finale that will result in dean dying to kill some almost-impossible to kill god type entity. not making me cry this time, bitches

padalecki got to phoebe-run through the park yelling for dean for an extended period of time, that was something

CHUCK This isn't how the story is supposed to end. CAS The story? CHUCK Lookit, the -- the -- the gathering storm, the gun, the -- the father killing his own son. This is Abraham and Isaac. This is epic! DEAN Wait. What are you saying? SAM He's saying he's been playing us. This whole time. CHUCK Come on. SAM Our entire lives. Mom, Dad -- everything. This is all you because you wrote it all, right? Because -- Because what? Because we're your favorite show? Because we're part of your story? CHUCK Okay, Dean, no offense, but your brother is stupid and crazy. And that kid is still dangerous. So pick up the gun. Pick it up... pull the trigger... and I'll bring her back. Your mom. DEAN No. My mom was my hero. And I miss her, and I will miss her every second of my life, but she would not want this. And it's not like you even really care. 'Cause Sam's right. The Apocalypse, the first go-around, with Lucifer and Michael -- you knew everything that was going on, so why the games, Chuck, huh? Why don't You just snap your fingers and end it?! CHUCK Look, I -- SAM And every other bad thing we've been killing, been dying over -- where were you? Just sitting back and watching us suffer so we can do this over and over and over again -- fighting, losing people we love? When does it end? Tell me. CHUCK Dean, don't do this. DEAN No, we're done talking. 'Cause this -- this isn't just a story. It's our lives! So God or no God, you go to hell.

it feels kind of bonkers that they're just now getting clued into the conceit that all the suffering and misery and death they've been through has been at chuck's direction

surely the god-killing gun doesn't actually work on chuck. there's been a couple weird cuts for ads in the past season or two - where they repeat some action/dialogue after a cut for an ad. which is so weird, they never did that before.

looks like the bandana dean was using for sam's woulda-been-fatal head wound few episodes ago

spn 14x17

so jack's in the empty... and billie is there. okaayyy

resurrecting all the monsters they killed or whatever this is, sure. an extremely long shot of shambling zombies. did they need to kill time (i thought the cut to billie was the end of the episode and almost just skipped the last several minutes 🥴)

one season left to go. makes me think about how jared and jensen periodically talk about reviving the show but like. The Show was so out of ideas and things just got more and more convoluted and outlandish, what is there even left to do? other than some timeline reset but when they're older. or like apparently the winchesters, whole new au.

and despite how critical i am of the show, i'm still invested and care about sam and dean. so i'd watch whatever sam and dean show they might make. but i'm still gonna be critical :p i have avoided reading other people's opinions on any of the show i haven't seen so whatever criticism i'm spewing out is just my reaction as i watch

[cassiesboy]

“Shit,” Dean curses suddenly. He places the Visine roughly against the counter and leans on his hands. “Can’t even do one fuckin’ thing.”

Cas can do this.

summary: cas applies visine to dean’s eyes. somehow, this is deeply romantic. ~1.1k.

One familiar morning after a hard hunt finds Dean groaning into the mirror, his fingers holding an eye open to inspection. When Castiel, still sitting in bed, hums questioningly, Dean drops his hand and huffs, “My eyes look like hell, dude.” Then he begins to rummage through the dresser drawer in front of him. It seems that between their late-night return to the bunker, Dean’s usual insomnia, and the amount of time he’d spent cloaked, shivering, shaking, sobbing under the broad spread of Castiel’s hand on his back in the hold of the post-midnight, his eyes are a little red. 

This isn’t the first time Castiel has woken to see the whites of Dean’s eyes cracked and reddened, harmless kintsugi of blood. Regardless, as with every time before, Castiel feels something large and protective roam up his spine and crawl through his mouth. He wants to walk over there, place his hand over Dean’s eyes, and unpop every burst vein in his eyes under a cool burst of care. He wants to find a way to take back every wrong thing ever done to Dean, to cut the fuel for the nightmares right out from under Dean’s harried subconscious. His hands open, fingertips spread across the wrinkled bedsheet below, Castiel pictures with sense memory what it would feel like to eradicate all the kindless shades from Dean’s past one by one, to feel them erase from existence under his palm.

Dean has found the little bottle of Visine they keep for mornings like this and is holding the cap, plastic crown made diminutive between the thick press of his thumb and forefinger. In the past, Dean wouldn’t have bothered to fix himself up like this, saying it was a waste of time and money and a bad use of grace just to “make me look pretty again.” Castiel let it be eventually, but sometimes, he still wonders whether Dean really didn’t care about it. Wonders whether Dean just couldn’t find a way to say that he actually needed it. Needed to be able to look in the mirror throughout the day and see his ruddy eyes, to remind himself that he’d woken up, he was free from whatever had clawed at him. 

Now, they have a kid. Dean doesn’t like Jack worrying about him when he doesn’t have to. So he stands in front of the mirror and tilts his head back to let drops of Visine fall into his open eyes, but his reflexes keep him blinking and flinching instead of letting them hit, his mouth pulling into an annoyed line at the corners. Dean doesn’t even like putting contacts in. Cas knows this. Cas loves him fiercely. Cas is so proud of him for surviving so beautifully. Cas, silently frenzied with heart, wants to stand up, take the bottle from Dean’s hands, guide his head back until it rests against his bare collarbone, and let him close his eyes as Cas takes care of him, as Cas holds the Visine to the pink triangle of Dean’s caruncle and lets gentle water roll rivulet by rivulet into Dean’s eyes, healing him the way humans do. 

“Shit,” Dean curses suddenly. He places the tiny opaque bottle roughly against the counter and drops his hands to either side of it, bracketing it in, leaning hard against them. His eyes are screwed shut. “Can’t even do one fuckin’ thing.”

A beat of quiet where the only sound in the room is the sigh that shudders visibly through the tense line of Dean’s back. Then, the angel Castiel breaks his reverie to push the blankets the rest of the way off his legs and stand. Hair rumpled from sleep, lines in his cheek from the pillow, borrowed boxers hanging from his hips, Castiel cannot banish the pain from Dean’s past, cannot rewrite his story to have a happier start, cannot even begin to fathom a way to untangle the web of chains that still draws Dean’s eyes tightly shut when he cries, like he’s waiting for someone to spit at him, to throw stones through his windows. But this. This simple salvation. Cas can do this.

Dean doesn’t start when one of Cas’s hands covers his own, doesn’t jump when Cas presses a soft kiss to the space where his head meats his neck, but it’s a close thing. Instead, he sucks in a sharp breath, lets out an equally sharp one, shoulders shivering, still tacky with the cold sweat he hasn’t yet had the chance to wash off.

“Hush,” Cas whispers.

He brings his free hand to Dean’s chest, feeling his heartbeat through endless layers of skin and sinew and the Walmart cotton-poly tee that blankets it all, and then drags it up his neck, feeling Dean’s breath, trying to encourage him by holding his warm hand over it to feel it too. So many mornings have started a similar way between them, Cas touching what he knows now he can touch. Today, Cas brings his hand the rest of the way up, cupping the box of Dean’s jaw in the spread of skin between his thumb and forefinger, and gently urges him to let his head fall backward, and Dean does, of course he does, because Cas asked him to, a quiet pained sound vibrating through the soft skin underneath Cas’s hand. He opens his eyes as he does, brows drawn together, the line of his lips a quiver.

“Cas,” is all he says.

“Hush, Dean,” Cas tells him, asks him, permits him. He picks the Visine up. “Close your eyes.” Dean does. “Let me take care of you.” Of course Dean does.

And so Cas holds the bottle just above the corners of Dean’s eyes and drops one, two, three drops of Visine into them. And so Dean shivers as he does, still not liking the feeling of the cold intrusion slipping in. And so Cas kisses Dean at the place where the subtle curve of his widow’s peak meets his skin. And so Dean turns his eyes this and that way beneath his eyelids, dispersing the product. And so Cas watches the smooth roll of that thin and vital skin and somehow, awed, almost not believing it, finds a way to love him even more than he did when they went to bed together yesterday. 

And so tears leak from the corners of Dean’s slowly cooling eyes. And so Cas sets the bottle down and wipes them with both hands from the rough plane of Dean’s cheeks. And so Dean sighs like something fell abruptly loose in his soul. And soon there will be butter on the griddle and pancakes on the table. And soon there will be birdsong through the window and laughter through the hallway. And so, here and now, everything is mostly okay.

[jew-flexive]

one day i’m going to write a post canon fix-it where after cas comes back from the empty, dean confesses his own love and asks to be with him, but cas says no, because loving dean and choosing to be with dean are two very different things. dean held a gun to his son’s forehead and for all that cas loves him (and he does, he does, he loves dean so irreparably and so entirely that he chokes on it) he’s a parent first. jack might be able to forgive him because jack is good and gentle and all of three, but it is cas’s job not to forgive. it’s cas’s job to be selfless. it doesn’t matter who dean might become if cas dates him or who he was when cas gripped him tight and raised him from perdition, because at the end of the day, he tried to kill jack multiple times and cas can’t move on from that, and he resents the idea of trying to. so he and dean don’t end up together. he and jack split their time between heaven and sam’s new apartment and cas never leaves jack alone with dean because his son might be god now (another betrayal, one that smarts and aches like a sore tooth because jack was supposed to live a simple, peaceful life in the cottage cas and kelly bought together, their wistful anticipation making that small fixer-upper feel a little like paradise) but for all his power, a part of him will always be that scared little boy listening to dean scream that he is unsalvageable, that there is something rotten in the core of him that dooms him irreversibly. and dean just hates this. he hates it for months, and it turns him bitter and makes him even meaner, until finally sam (who moved out of the bunker as soon as chuck was gone, who went back to school and adopted a dog and made the drive to california to sit by jess’s grave for hours and just talk like he’s been meaning to do ever since he first met his mother’s ghost, who’s going to therapy and the farmer’s market and shabbat morning services, who hasn’t picked up a gun in months and never will again, who has apologized profusely to jack for trying to lock him away and cooperated with cas’s limitations on his interactions with jack because he wishes someone had been willing to protect him when he was the scared child who everyone wanted dead, who, for the first time in a long time, feels brave enough to tell dean no and stick by it) sits him down and explains that no, it’s not cas’s fault that you hurt his son. no, it’s not chuck’s fault either. yes, i know you love him too, but dean. you tried to kill his son. my son. and once he starts it all spills out, because sam is jack’s father but he’s also jack, and for the first time dean has to face the fact that his love for sam is not an excuse for the way he’s treated him. so dean cuts them off for awhile. he rents a cabin in the woods and he sits and he thinks and he looks in the mirror and for awhile, he can justify everything. but his logic runs hollow the more he tries to defend it. so he calls up mia after a few months and asks for the number of a good therapist. while that’s all happening, sam and eileen break up, mostly because she doesn’t want to give up hunting and sam doesn’t want anything to do with it anymore. there are other ways to help. he’s going into family law, and his son (who is god) regularly consults him on how heaven can be improved. the break up is amicable and they stay close, and eileen is the first person to notice that cas looks at sam not like he will give him the answer, like how he looked at dean, but like he is the answer, and gleefully teams up with rowena to set those two up. jack and amara also join in on the fun and shenanigans ensue (this is the fluffy part of the fic to complement the absolutely brutal therapy sessions dean is having with his long-suffering doctor). eventually, sam and cas get together and it’s lovely and warm and comfortable and for the first time since jess sam feels like he can have love and safety both and cas learns that love exists outside of sacrifice, that love can heal as much as it hurts, that rebellion can take a softer, kinder form.

[astermacguffin]

In line with this post by @autisticandroids I have decided that we need a fic grounded upon this post. I am specifically deciding to focus on the Dean counterpart in this paragraph (bold highlights are mine:

like i guess the equivalent is cas thinking dean doesn't care about him/want him around and will discard him if he's not useful but to be fair: i don't like it in fics when that's treated lightly either! it's usually not treated as lightly as the "cas doesn't have feelings" thing, but it's rarely given the gravitas it deserves, like, after hearing that, depending on your dean, he should either be incandescently angry that anyone could possibly think that poorly of him, or lock himself in his room for days doing some depressive soul-searching to try and figure out why cas would think that, where he's gone wrong. it might also change dean's opinion of cas, to know he'd stay with someone who only wanted him around because he's useful. like that's a seriously relationship restructuring reveal, and it wouldn't necessarily restructure things in a positive direction, at least at first.

In order to execute this, I propose that we give Cas a boyfriend that's a total Dean-mirror, complete with a Sam-mirror brother.

(Imagine this in a post-S11 finale world but with the eventual Mary and Jack plots on hold. As much as I love them so much, they would prevent me from inflicting as much damage to Dean and Cas because these two will be distracted.)

There are two key qualities to the Dean-mirror boyfriend: (1) he has all of Dean's bad qualities, but (2) he also has all of Dean's good qualities AND more (e.g. he's actually generous with his affection, to which Cas is very much starving from).

It would be made clear to both Dean and the readers that Cas' boyfriend is really just dragging him along because Cas is useful to him. The big reveal would be that Cas is ALSO aware of this and is totally fine with it. This, of course, would radically restructure the way Dean perceives Cas and, ideally, would force him to do some introspection.

The fact that Cas is willing to stay with someone he perceives as valuing him only for his usefulness is NOT a simple revelation about Cas that Dean can just brush off.

The second and more important revelation should be that Cas ALSO perceives Dean like this. Sure, Dean values Cas beyond his usefulness, but that doesn't matter because Cas has little evidential support for that and thus perceives Dean differently. After his initial anger, Dean should be even more horrified about this. "Cas thinks we only value him for his usefulness and YET he stays with us?" Like, that's an awfully low amount of self-worth even for Dean. That would like. Change the way Dean looks at Cas AND himself.

There is one particular event in canon that I would like to explore in detail here. Remember in S9 when Dean kicks Cas out of the bunker with little to no aid, and then Cas just easily forgives him for it? Something of that scale should happen between Cas and his boyfriend. This would force Dean to reflect on the gravity of what he did to Cas AND make him interrogate his unhealthy codependency with Sam by looking at their character mirrors.

At one point, the Dean-mirror should be mind-controlled or influenced into beating the shit out of Cas, and Cas just letting it go afterwards. (It would even be more fucked up if the Dean-mirror is blackmailed into torturing or beating the crap out of Cas in order to save the Sam-mirror brother.)

The entire goal of all of this is to break Dean's brain because that's the only way he'll ever be able to confront his own flaws: by putting him into situations that force introspection that he otherwise would never do on his own.

What's great about this is that fixing Dean pretty much also fixes Cas consequently. Like, Cas needs someone to tell him about his harmful behaviors and mental schemas. Dean is a voice that Cas would certainly listen to, so knocking some sense into Dean has the lovely consequence of making Cas realize some things as well.

By the time the Mary and Jack plots happens, we have the benefit of them having a way heathier dynamic.

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

It’s darker than dark, and it’s gotta be airless here, because Dean feels sucked dry after only a few moments. 

He hadn’t really thought about how he would find Cas when he got here--he’d gotten about as far as get to the Empty in his thought process, and, well...here he was. 

“Cas?” Dean tries to call out, but he finds that his words just get sucked into the darkness. 

Okay, he’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.

Dean starts walking. He feels vaguely like he’s suffocating, but whatever the Empty is doing to press down on his lungs is nothing compared to the chokehold that Cas has on his heart. He’s gonna find him.

He has to find him. 

Eventually, he sees something in the distance, although that’s a relative term, because nothing looks different here, just a swath of inky blackness. Within minutes, he recognizes the something as a familiar tan trench coat, and that’s when he breaks into a run. The Empty puts up a resistance, trying to stop him from gulping air, from pushing through to Cas, but eventually Dean makes it and collapses next to him, trying to catch his breath. 

“Cas,” Dean gets out, shaking Cas’s shoulder. “C’mon, man, wake up.”

He can’t tell if Cas is breathing.

“Cas,” Dean tries again. “Please. Wake up.”

“He can’t,” a voice behind Dean says, and he whips around to see the Empty wearing Cas’s face. 

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” It hurts to see something that looks like Cas but isn’t Cas, and for a moment Dean is reminded of Lucifer’s mockery when he was holding Cas’s vessel hostage, and his stomach twists.

“Okay,” Dean sits back on his heels but doesn’t take his hand off Cas’s shoulder. “Why won’t he wake up?”

“He doesn’t think there’s anything for him if he does.” The Empty shrugs. “Can’t blame him.” 

Dean’s stomach twists again, but this time with guilt. He didn’t--he never...

Shit. 

Cas said he loved him, and all Dean could do was stand there, and now Cas thinks--

“There’s a way,” the Empty says, “That I could let you try to convince him. I’m only offering because then your new God will stop trying to break in, and so will you.”

“You want quiet,” Dean replies. “I can give you quiet, but only if I take Cas with me.”

“Then you have to convince him to come with you.” The Empty snaps its fingers, and suddenly Dean’s not kneeling next to Cas on a blank, black landscape anymore--everything is white. It makes Dean think of his mom, and their kitchen when he was a kid, before she died, and the scenery transforms into the kitchen, complete with figures of him and his mom. She’s making a pie, letting four-year-old Dean sneak a few sugary apples out of the filling.

Whatever you think, Dean hears in his head, and he knows it’s the Empty, shows up here, in Castiel’s mind.

Oh. 

Dean has to show him his memories.

His mind knows where to start before he does, and suddenly he’s standing in front of a lake, dragging out a dirty trench coat, wrapping it up in his arms.

“Dumb sonofabitch,” Dean watches a phantom version of himself say--an echo. “I carried that around for a year,” he adds, in his own voice, and then the scene changes to Dean, lying in bed and jolting up at the sight of Cas’s face in a window.

He never told Cas, he realizes, about what happened after he left Cas in purgatory--seeing him everywhere, hearing his voice...

Well. He’s telling him now.

Part of Dean wants to linger on each memory, make sure that Cas really sees what Dean’s trying to say, but as he reflects, his pulse quickens, his nerves increase--what if this doesn’t convince him?

What if Dean can’t fix this?

Next, Dean sees his face in a mirror, repeating like a broken record, “My name is Dean Winchester. Mary is my mom. Sam is my brother. Castiel--Cas is my best friend. My name is...Dean Wi--my name...”

Then he’s watching himself wrap Cas for burial, seeing his stricken face as he lights the pyre on fire. Dean knows what’s coming next, after punching in a door and getting drunker than drunk--he knows what Cas is about to see.

Billie’s form swims into view. “You want to die.”

Dean feels a hand on his shoulder, and he turns at the touch with a jolt and finds himself staring into Cas’s face. He can tell from the sad droop of Cas’s mouth, the pinch of his eyebrows, that it’s really Cas, and not the Empty.

“You’re awake,” Dean says.

“Yes.” Cas’s mouth twitches--it might be a smile, but only the beginnings of one.

“There’s something else you gotta see before we go,” Dean says, and the scene switches to something that happened just a few months ago.

Dean’s on his fifth beer--you can tell from the stack of bottles next to him on the table--and he’s got a knife in his hand. Dean knows what was running through his head at this moment, because there’s a lot you can do to yourself with a knife, and he considers it, hovering the blade over his hand--

But the knife doesn’t break skin. Instead, Dean takes another gulp of beer and starts jamming the knife into the table, next to the preexisting D.W. and S.W. and M.W. Slowly, a Jack and Castiel appear on the table. The last few letters of Castiel are shaky, Dean’s eyes blurred with tears. 

“Come home,” Dean says, as himself and not a vision, to Cas. “Please?”

Cas takes his hand. “Of course.” 

Dean expects to have to talk to the Empty again, to negotiate, but instead there’s a sudden squeezing sensation, and then he’s collapsing onto the basement floor with Cas on top of him. 

Dean doesn’t give Cas time to try and roll off, he just grabs him by the lapels of that damn coat and kisses him, and Cas kisses him back, and Dean thinks he’s gonna cry, but he manages to choke out a, “Me too, Cas,” before the waterworks start, and Cas kisses him again and again and again, until there are no tears left, until Dean is sure that Cas isn’t going to vanish on him, until Dean starts to feel the pain receded.

He found Cas. He can figure the rest out.

[quillquiver]

and it’s good

DeanCas coda to 15x19: ‘Inherit the Hearth’

He hasn’t stopped praying.

From an empty world to one filled with people, Dean has gone to his knees every night—on the floor, the gravel, the dirt—and prayed. Head down. Face pressed to his knuckles. Dear Cas…

From each failed plan to their eventual, anti-climactic victory, Dean shares it all. And when it’s all over, when they wake up the morning after with no Jack, no Cas and no world to save, it’s bittersweet. Confusing. Like being released into the wild after living in a cage.

Where does he go from here? What does he do?

What does he want?

Sam doesn’t have a problem finding his own answers, but then again, he never has; he was the one with the life outside The Life: the college boy, the dreamer. Dean… Dean needs some time to adjust. Regroup. Grieve, maybe—whatever the hell that looks like. So, he serves himself a bottle of Jack, grabs a box of Pop Tarts, and makes his way to his recliner. First day of freedom? Dr. Sexy and sweet oblivion sound awesome.

“Hey, uh, what’re you—” Sam cuts himself off, skidding to a halt in the doorway of the Dean Cave. He’s got that pinched look on his face, the one that means: inevitable bitch face, concerned edition. Dean waves him off.

“Chilling out,” he mutters, taking a long pull from the bottle. “Figure I deserve a vacation.”

Sam narrows his eyes. “A vacation.”

“Yeah, genius. A vacation. You know, a little me time?” Dean takes another pull. “You got a problem with that?”

Sam shifts his weight. Frowns at the floor. It’s weird to see him like this; he’s so big, now, but that move is straight out of his teen years—when he’d been gangly and awkward and angry and unsure. He looks up, resolved, and Dean heaves an internal sigh. Whatever the fuck Sam is trying to do, he doesn’t want any part in it.

“What if you come with me?”

“Nope.”

“Dean—”

“Look, Sammy, we fought the big fight, we won, there ain’t nothing left to do,” Dean says reasonably, bitterly, turning back to the DVD menu. “So I don’t wanna go into town, or to the store, or wherever else you’re planning on gallivanting to today. I’m gonna watch my show, drown myself in booze and pass the fuck out, because that is what I’m owed. Capiche?”

“Eileen texted. I’m… I’m going to go get her.”

It’s weird, Dean thinks, how many times a heart can break. He clenches his jaw and swallows the lump in his throat, blinking rapidly. Allows himself a second—one second—of envy and jealousy before he slaps a smile on his face and nods. “Good,” he says. He means it. “You should.”

“So…” Sam trails off.

“So…” Dean echoes.

“…Come with.”

“Sam, I’m not gonna crash your romantic reunion okay? That’s weird.”

“Dean—”

“Sam.” And there’s more that comes out in that word than he ever intended. It hangs heavy in the air between them before dropping to the ground like a stone. Loud. Shattering on impact. Dean thinks his voice might have cracked and his vision is blurring because this pity? This is fucking worse. Shoving a Pop Tart in his mouth, Dean chews with his mouth open in the vain hope that his table manners will prove an adequate distraction, but that shit hasn’t worked for a long time.

It tastes like sawdust.

“Just go,” he says. “You have to go, man.”

It’s as much a plea for his brother as it is for himself, and for one long, terrifying moment Dean thinks Sam’s going to refuse. That he’s gonna be dragged across the country to witness his brother find happiness in a way he will never be able to have.

…But Sam is kind, not cruel, and when those big eyes of his fill with tears, Dean has never been so happy to have given himself up. He watches as his little brother’s shoulders slump. As he readjusts his duffle.

“I’ll be home in two days,” Sam says. “If you’re dead, I’m gonna pissed.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dean replies, forcing himself to tease. To be excited. He deserves this. “Go sing in the rain or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Sam volleys back, a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. He looks so happy, and Dean can’t stop himself from mirroring the expression. It hits him all at once, then—a sucker punch to the gut, the heart—that no matter what, he did right by his little brother. That he’s grown up to be smart, and kind and caring, and now he can be happy. And Dean—Dean’ll figure it out. But Sam’s taken care of and that’s… good. That’s a lot.

“Hey, Dean?”

“Mm.”

“I love you,” Sam says. He’s seven and thirty-seven and Dean feels something inside himself ease and break all at once.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I love you, too.”

Sam grins.

***

There’s no more frozen pizza.

It’s already a fucking travesty that the pizza place doesn’t deliver to their secret underground bunker, but Jack polished off the last two pies—and while it’s a little bit hilarious to think of the ‘New God’ (his kid) scarfing down shitty plain cheese in his pjs, it’s also awful, and painful. So Dean slips on his shoes, grabs his keys, and shoulders on the jacket with Cas’s handprint over his hole-y sleep shirt.

It’s not like he’s sober, but he’s done worse.

It feels like a shitty pizza day, so Dean makes a beeline for the Wal-Mart and its frozen section, stocking up on two of every topping from the cheapest brand they’ve got. He grabs popcorn, chips, twizzlers and margarita mix, because fuck it, and smiles at the cashier. It’s not an epic romantic reunion, but this is what normal people do, right? They take an entire day and wallow without the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Dean’s cradling his spoils, twizzler hanging out of his mouth, shuffling out of the garage when—

He freezes.

The kitchen. There’s someone banging around in the kitchen.

Not like aggressively banging—one quick sweep around the area confirms no signs of forced entry—but just like… moving shit. Washing the dishes from this morning, or getting ready to make something new. Dean’s heart is caught between hope and heartbreak and he forces himself towards the latter. It’s probably Charlie, or Bobby or Jody or Donna or, hell, even Jack or Claire. No one else can get in. And if it’s something dangerous… well, Dean doesn’t have a weapon on him, and his damn pizza’s thawing.

But it’s not Charlie or Bobby or Jody or Donna. It’s not Jack. It’s not Claire.

…It’s Cas; freshly showered, dressed in Dean’s fucking clothes, making himself a sandwich.

He’s beautiful. Dean’s shirt—AC/DC, the one with the mustard stain on the collar—is just a little small on him, and he’s humming, and Dean has to blink once twice three times to make sure he’s not a goddamn mirage but no he’s still there, still scooping grape jelly onto the good bread and then putting the dirty spoon on the counter like a friggin’ heathen and—

“Are you gonna wash that?”

It’s sure as fuck not what he’d meant to say, but it gets the job done. Cas drops the spoon—the spoon—and whirls around like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Dean,” he breathes, like Dean’s name is some kind of benediction. Like it’s important.

Dean clutches his groceries tighter to his chest. “A-Are you…?” he asks. Steps forward. Steps back. Stares because he can’t, he can’t— “Are you real?”

Cas is barefoot. He’s quiet when he steps across the linoleum. His hair is turning fluffy where it’s drying and his eyes are blue and bright and he’s a miracle. “I’m real,” he confirms quietly. His hand twitches by his side, and Dean thinks that’s fair. Thinks that he gets that Cas has reservations because of—because.

But they’re unfounded. 

Dean drops his spoils because they’re an afterthought; nothing is more important than knowing, than reaching out to touch his fingertips to Cas’s shoulder. To his jaw. He can’t stop the tears from springing to his eyes like he can’t stop himself from laughing. Smiling. And suddenly he has Cas in his arms and he smells like Dean’s soap and Sam’s fancy shampoo, and they’re holding—clutching each other, and Dean turns his head because it has to be now he has to say it now: “Cas, I—”

“I know,” Cas interrupts. “You don’t have to—I know.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, voice high with something like hysteria. The whole thing is so absurd, so insane, so fucked, that it’s all he can do to bury his face in Cas’s neck. To squeeze his eyes shut. To talk. “Well, you’re a friggin’ moron,” he says. “And you got no goddamn idea what you’re talking about, because—because you changed me, too, you dick.” Cas’s fingers dig into Dean’s waist and Dean’s heart pounds like it’s trying to escape and his throat is dry and he’s sweating and he’s gonna be sick, he’s gonna die— “A-And I love you.”

He wrenches himself away, then, glaring like he dares Cas to take the words away from him. “Okay?” he asks, rhetorically. Menacingly. It’s a declaration and a confession and a challenge. And Cas meets his stare unflinchingly. He reaches up to thumb at the wetness on the apple of Dean’s cheek. “Okay,” he says. He nods. Leans in. “Okay.” Their mouths brush. “Good.”

It’s not even a real kiss, so Dean can’t be blamed for how he chases; how he breathes good, in faint agreement like a lovesick fool, and moves until they’re kissing good and proper—slow and sweet and then deep and wet and it’s good, it’s so good, he’s so good.

Later, they’ll have to make every thawed pizza. They’ll drink the margarita mix and share the same popcorn bowl and pay no attention to Dr. Sexy playing in the background. They’ll talk about Chuck and Jack and Sam. They’ll stare. They’ll tease. They’ll flirt.

But for now, Cas twists his hands in Dean’s shirt and Dean buries his hands in dark hair. They pause for breath only to come together, again and again and again.

And it’s good.

[chocolatecakecas]

Not so Cold Feet: Destiel Wedding Ficlet Part 1

Part 2

Congrats to the happy couple💙💚💍!!!!!!!

So far, the day had gone off without any major hiccups, to everyone's complete surprise.

They had somehow managed to keep Dean and Cas away from each other since late last night, which neither of them were happy about. Cas had tried to explain the actual origin of that tradition, and how it definitely didn't apply to them, but nobody budged (Cas you have the rest of your life to be gross with Dean, you can handle a couple more hours). And as they were shuffled off to opposite ends of the bunker, Dean had to agree with Cas, it was a stupid tradition.

Was there an attempted escape plan (meet in the kitchen at 3am to make out), that was foiled when Cas flicked on the lights to see Sam, Eileen, Charlie and Claire, all leaning against the kitchen island? It's possible, but they did manage to catch a glimpse of each other before being frogged marched back to their holding cel-bedrooms.

Other than the failed coup and his wounded pride, Dean was fine for the rest of the night. He was fine throughout breakfast, he was fine in the shower, he was fine when he began getting ready. But now as Dean was staring at his deep blue suit in the mirror, he knew one thing for certain.

He was definitely not fine.

It wasn't that he was getting cold feet, quite the opposite actually. Dean loves Cas with his entire being, more than Dean can put into words, he wasn’t sure that the right words even exists. He doesn’t want to be with anyone else in the world. Cas was it for him.

And listen, Dean knows Cas loves him. He tells him every chance he gets, and they've been raising an actual baby together, for godsake. So Cas loves him, and logically, Dean knows that it's true.

But because his mind apparently can't let himself just be happy for once in his life, he panics.

What if they're making a mistake? What if this isn't what Cas really wants? What if Cas marries him and realizes that Dean actually isn't the one thing he wants?

Ice rushes through Dean's veins.

He has to talk to Cas. Dean has to stop this befo-

A knock interrupts his thoughts. Sam's head peers around the door, and with a blinding smile, tells Dean it's time.

They walk down the hallway together in silence, the energy of the day bounces off the walls, excitement hanging in the air.

Dean's mind races. He has to talk to him.

When he sees Cas he'll just tell him the wedding is off an-

Okay well, I'll word it better than that, Dean thinks.

They slowly make their way to the backdoor that leads out to the clearing. It's hidden from view behind the bunker, and it's where Cas had started a garden, spending hours out there taking care of the land. Now the ground now covered in various wild flowers.

That's where everyone is waiting. Right. He has to talk to him, before they go out there in front of literally every single person they know.

Dean fiddles anxiously with his cufflinks, heart rate increasing with each step.

He'll just tell Cas that this is a mistake, that he can't let Cas do this. He has too, even if it break Dean's heart. He has to let him go, for Cas.

By the time they reach the door, a small crowd is gathered, and he starts to sweat. Dean’s eyes find Eileen and Charlie first, in long, flowing dresses (Eileen had picked them out).

As soon as she sees him, Charlie tackles Dean in a hug, excitedly whispering her congratulations, and wipes tears from her eyes as she pulls away. Eileen makes her way over next, wrapping him in a tight hug, and signs a quick, "good luck" with a teasing wink.

It does nothing to quiet the noise in his mind.

He can't let Cas tie himself to Dean forever, Cas deserves better than him.

He can't let Cas make the biggest mistake of his life.

So Dean has to tell him. He ha-

Dean freezes.

He spots a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye. His back is to Dean, and he's crouched down low, fixing Jack's tie. His focus is on the conversation he's having with Claire, who stands above him in a deep green suit.

Then he rises and turns. And Dean feels the air leave his lungs.

Every word dies in his throat, and his thoughts stall in his mind, because suddenly, nothing else in the world matters more, than the sight in front of him.

He drinks in Cas for the first time in 10 hours.

The way his deep green suit perfectly hugs every inch of his body, his hair carefully (but still messily) tousled, his crooked bowtie, eyes dancing with excitement as he places Jack on his hip.

And Dean has never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. Tears begin to form in his eyes as he tries to commit everything to memory.

Love, like he's never felt before washes over him, quieting his anxieties, filling his thoughts with blue eyes and gentle touches.

Jack spies Dean first, excitedly yelling as a greeting, and alerting Cas of his presence. Their eyes meet.

Cas's jaw goes slack, blue eyes widening, and a look Dean has never seen before, takes over his features.

A soft smile grows on Cas' lips, Dean smiles back.

Jack wiggles free from Cas' arms and crashes into Dean's legs, effectively breaking their staring contest.

As he ruffles Jack's hair, he hears the conversation on the other side of the door subside.

It's time.

Sam engulfs Cas in a tight hug, whispering something Dean can't quite make out, so he shifts his focus to the three year old, who's hanging on his leg. With a laugh, he bends down to actually fix his kid's tie, since it's still completely uneven (Cas is hopeless). Dean stands, throwing a wide smile to Claire, who smiles back and makes her way over.

In a flash she's wrapped her arms around his neck giving him a quick hug and a whispered congrats. Dean is completely stunned, but manages to hug back, before she pulls away. He watches her walk towards Eileen and Charlie, with Jack in tow (he pretends not to notice the tears in her eyes).

Sam eventually pulls back from Cas, both a little misty eyed. He rights Cas' bowtie and makes his way over to Dean.

They share a meaningful look before wrapping each other in a tight hug.

"I'm so happy for you, Dean. You guys deserves this. You deserve this".

Dean's breathe catches as they pull apart, clasping each others' shoulders for a moment longer.

Then with a watery smile and a whispered, good luck, Sam begins to usher Jack and his little basket through the door, sending Charlie and Eileen after. Then Sam and Claire disappear.

Dean watches in a daze as Jack toddles down the aisle, tossing petals (from Cas' garden of course) as he goes. Eileen and Charlie each had to put him back on track, as he got distracted seeing all of his family seated on either side, which earns a laugh from the crowd. Sam and Claire follow slowly behind them, moving to opposite sides of Bobby, where he currently stands on the makeshift "alter".

Dean feels the fears slowly begin to creep around his edges, his mind racing once more.

He has to tell him, he's running out of time, he has to stop this he can't let Cas make the biggest mist-

A hand on his shoulder rips him from his thoughts, he feels it's warmth radiating through his jacket. Their eyes meet in silence, the gravity of the situation clearly weighing on the both of them.

Dean fears he might blurt out something he'll regret for the rest of his life, but his thoughts settle. And the only thing his mind telling him to do, is reach out and tilt Cas' bowtie. So he does.

And Cas lets out a surprised laugh, and it's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. Cas reaches out, doing the same to Dean's tie. He laughs back.

The tension melts away and Dean's mind quiets. He finally feels like he can breathe as he finds Cas' eyes again.

Then it hits him.

The angel that he fell in love with, with the ratty trench coat and backwards tie, with the smile reserved just for him, and that stupidly endearing head tilt, now stands before him. The man he loves more than anything in the world, the man who raised him from hell, the man who sacrificed everything for him, the man who saved him from himself so many times he's lost count, stands before him. In his deep green suit, with his wild hair, piercing blue eyes, a gummy smile, and a now crooked bowtie. His guardian angel, the light of his life, his best friend. This awkward, wise, dorky, powerful, ancient, little weirdo, stands before him.

And Dean is going to marry him.

The music swells pulling them from their daze, and they watch as all of their family rises and turns to face them.

Cas takes hand and squeezes, and Dean squeezes back.

Now, as Dean stares into those deep blue eyes, as they stand together on a makeshift alter, in a field of budding flowers, in front of everyone they love, tightly clasping ring-clad hands. He knows one thing for certain.

They are definitely, going to be fine.

Tag list:

@theangelwiththewormstache @smiledean @shelikestv @good-things-do-happen-dean @chaoticdean @midnightwings-deancas @jellydeans @sunshine-jack @archervale

@wikiangela @organicpurplepants @bbcalamity @tkdwolf2012 @doemons-blog @rolling-stoned-girl @skylerkernaghan @shadowywerewolfqueen @the-cookie-navy

@martymar1963 @thelahatiel @thefantasyfiend @castielle-deanna @aestheticflyer26

As always, let me know if you want to be added or removed!!!💛

[norestwithoutlove]

“If jimmy came back from the dead, what do you think he’d say when he finds out Dean and cas are together and have kids”

(i was asked this on twitter and shared there. but i know not all of you follow me there i thought i’d share on here too. this is how i answered)

sorry this one took a while to answer. i wanted time to think about it because i never even considered the thought before. a lot of people say to me "imagine if jimmy had never died in tbah" and kind of miss the point of the fic. like yeah, it’d be great. it’d be great if none of the people we loved had died. yeah, “imagine if jimmy had never died” misses the point - but this question doesn't. and i think it's what a lot of bereaved people wish for, anyway. just a chance to say everything, one last time.

  where to start.

  i think if jimmy came back for a day (and the thought makes me cry)... he'd knock on the door of the big white house. or they'd just find him sitting in his old armchair in the living room like nothing had happened at all. but something has happened, something massive and irreversible, so maybe him knocking on the door would fit better.

jack's probably the one to open it. he frowns and thinks he recognises the face smiling back at him, but it's older than he's ever seen it, and he's not so good with faces, so he's not sure. jimmy smiles and says hello, does castiel still live here?

and jack says “yes, why?”. jimmy still smiles. his smile is wider, warmer now. he says he's travelled very far. he says he's an old family friend. could he come in? it’s raining outside. it’s raining - and though jimmy stands under the porch, it’d be mean to leave him out in it. jack pulls open the door and says if jimmy is selling anything, they probably wont need it: they have everything they need in this house. jimmy smiles and says he's glad. he treads slowly down the hall, looking around him, like he's trying to savor it. he runs his finger along the crack in the mirror that has always been there, at least since jack arrived. he smiles to himself, but it’s a little sad.

he stops at a photo of dean and castiel playing on the tire swing they made when they were kids. his eyes pinch at their corners. jack says, “what are you smiling at?” jimmy says, i was there when that was taken. jack says “oh. that's my father”. and he points to castiel. jimmy turns to jack and smiles so wide tears wring out of his eyes. he asks, really? jack frowns and says “of course”. why would he lie about that? jimmy says, i hope he doesn't miss his own dad too much. jack says “sometimes he and dean get sad about it”. jimmy pauses. castiel and dean are friends? he asks. jack nods seriously. “best friends,” he answers. “everyone knows that.” jimmy takes a gentle hold of jack's shoulder and squeezes.

jack says “that's how dean squeezes my shoulder, too”. jimmy asks, you see him often? he asks it with a hopeful smile. jack nods with a frown, very serious. jimmy laughs and says, you know, you frown just like your father. funny thing, family resemblance. jack shrugs and says “maybe, but i was adopted”. 

jimmy falters. he blinks. he glances down the corridor again, and his eyes light on a different picture, taken decades after the one on the tire swing. he treads slowly towards it. jack follows after him, speaking. “i just think,” he frowns, and it's still castiel's frown, “if you really were close family friends with castiel, you'd know he adopted his children.” 

jimmy has stopped in front of the photograph and he stares at it, lips parted in a ghost-smile. family, friend. family, and a friend, jimmy corrects. that’s what i meant. i’m old family, and an old friend. jack watches him. “that's them on their wedding day,” he supplies. jimmy smiles. soft tears, tears like a gentle autumn rain, are on his cheeks, now. yes, he says, it is. a little late, considering, but maybe... he trails off. timed perfectly. a heavy footfall sounds on the stairs, a thunder to match the rain outside, and claire calls to jack, “dude, you said you'd get me a snack! it’s not rocket science! what’s the holdup?” but she stops short at the sight of the old man in the hall. claire's better with faces than jack. 

hello, jimmy smiles, but claire is already yelling for her dads.

it's a sunday afternoon. dean hadn't planned on being awake and active. he’d been napping while cas did a grocery run. but claire screaming to high heaven is a surefire way to set elanor into confusion. he groans and rolls out of bed, rubbing his eyes. he picks elanor up and carries her down the stairs in one arm. “claire,” he grumbles, “you know cas is out fuelling your damn addiction to lucky charms. what is it?”

he stops short at the foot of the stairs. his mouth is open and his eyes are glassy. elanor keeps asking “daddy are you okay? who’s that man?” and it takes dean a minute to stop staring before softly putting elanor down and telling her to go get her brother, jacob. “tell him there’s food in the kitchen, or something,” dean says, and jimmy hasn’t stopped staring or smiling warmly at him and his eyes are leaking autumn rain. “but there isn’t,” elanor says, and dean answers “so lie. there’s someone i—” but he can’t finish the sentence. and elanor shakes her head with serious disapproval and climbs back up the stairs.

dean steps toward him, trying to stammer out his name, but the tears strangle his voice and before he knows it he’s wrapped tight in jimmy’s arms, taller than him by far, now, but feeling eighteen again. feeling eighteen again and like he’s just finished yelling at jimmy that he doesn’t need a father, never needed a father, that he coped just fine without one, anyway. all of those things were lies when dean said them. he wants to say they were lies, wants to tell jimmy now that he needed a father, always needed a father, didn’t cope without one but that also, when he needed one most, jimmy was his father. he wants to say thank you. thank you, thank you, thank you for everything and sorry for every angry answer and scowl and bitter lie, please know dean didn’t mean them, he was just hurt and afraid. but jimmy already knows this. knew that, even then, and besides, the words won’t come. he just holds onto jimmy tight and thinks he probably did fall asleep in his bed and this is another one of those grief dreams, another one of those grief dreams that’s gonna throw him off for weeks but one he wants to savor forever.

he’s soaking jimmy’s shirt with tears. the guy smells like his old cologne. and blueberry pancakes. dean cries a little harder, afraid to let go.

“are you proud of me?”

it’s the first thing he’s managed to say to the old man. “are you proud of me?” he keeps asking, over and over again, and jimmy holds him tight and answers yes, yes, every time. yes.

and then cas comes home. cas comes home dripping from the rain from the walk to the front door and drops the damp brown paper bags onto the floor and apples roll onto the floor and he’s staring at his father and can’t speak, just like dean couldn’t speak, and can’t breathe. and jimmy is sat at the kitchen table with his grandchildren just like castiel mourned he would never be able to, and jacob is showing jimmy one of his paintings and elanor is holding his hand and claire has just made him a cup of tea, and jimmy smiles at castiel. “i see you got my last letter,” he says. and castiel steps into the kitchen and sobs that he’s sorry he never got to reply. and jimmy says that he’s sorry, too. cas shows him the little saplings they all planted for tu b'shevat, standing in a line on the windowsill. jimmy loved growing things. and cas asks how long jimmy has with them. when he’s going… back. to wherever ‘there’ is. 

and jimmy says he has until the rain stops. and castiel wishes it would rain forever, that all of kansas would be blanketed in it, a second flood, torrenting about the land, and them in their own ark, the big white house, bobbing about on the water, sharing food and stories and laughter and lost time, stolen time, time which was stolen from them. aren’t his and dean’s tears a substitute enough for rain when it stops, anyway? their tears are sure as rain in autumn, and not likely to ease soon. he wishes the rain would never stop. 

but it has to, eventually. all things do. no matter how blessed.

[curioussubjects]

I feel bad discussing spn now that’s over but I’ve been wondering. Do you think dean actually meant it when he said “why does that something always seem to be you” (15.03)? Usually people blurt out what’s on their mind all of a sudden even if they didn’t mean to say it out loud. But it comes out because the person either thinks about it or actually believes it. Do you think at one point Dean truly blamed Cas for Mary? I mean, putting 15.09 aside of course.

Why do you feel bad discussing SPN now the show’s over, anon?? Don’t feel bad!

The short answer to your question, in my view, is that Dean was lashing out because of how his unaddressed trauma over Cas dying (cf. 7x01, purgatory, 12x23) gets entangled with him processing his grief over Mary and Jack. Everything is further exacerbated by Chuck’s villain reveal, and the events that lead to Rowena’s “death.”  The longer answer to this question starts with acknowledging that feelings and trauma are complicated things that aren't always rational. And that's the crux of the matter for Dean in that moment he lashes out at Cas: he's not behaving rationally. We know Dean is angry, and historically doesn't handle anger well at all, but we also know, even without 15x09, that what Dean is really feeling is fear. In that moment, Dean is angry, and he's scared. If you watch the scene closely, too, you'll notice that Dean is still present enough to regret saying "why does that something always seem to be you" to Cas. He tenses up, he looks down and only looks up again in stubbornness defiance when Cas says he can't even look at him. Then Cas leaves, which has always been an issue for Dean. However warranted Cas's decision to leave was, it still hits Dean as rejection, too. All this is to say that the break up scene is extremely fraught, and Dean is the type of person who needs time to process events and emotions, and time to process is something he hasn't had since Mary disappeared.

So you ask: ok, cool, but what does all of that have to do with Cas dying, Liv? And here's where I say they have everything to do with Cas dying. I've talked about this before in tags and in other posts that I can't think of right now, but there are common occurrences in the events that have led to the more traumatic Cas deaths. If we think of Cas dying in 07x01, the context for that is as follows: Cas needs to solve a problem, he wants to ask Dean for help, but the desire to not burden him with it is greater, so Cas ends up handling the problem solo, which leads to disaster and also him dying. Or, well, apparently dying. But as far as Dean was concerned, Cas was dead, and he did struggle with it a lot during season 7. Now, fast-forward to s12 and the context of how Cas ends up dead then: Cas needs to solve a problem, part of him does want to cooperate with Sam and Dean to solve it, but he ultimately decides his desire to bring Dean a win, and to shield him and Sam from actions they'd suffer from are greater. Predictably, Cas ends up handling the problem solo, which leads to complications, and him being killed by Lucifer. Cas's death in 12x23 is significantly more traumatic to Dean than the one in 07x01 as season 13 starts with a grief arc that is devoted to Dean's suffering over Cas -- to the point that suffering overshadows even his grief over Mary. Granted, these are somewhat reductive summaries of the events of seasons 7 and 12, but the fact remains that those two deaths were remarkably similar as well as traumatic. 

If you look at trauma theory in regards to literary analysis, you'll notice that a key element is repetition. The story of trauma is a story of echoes, which is partly why triggers are what they are for people who have PTSD. In particular, a situation doesn't need to be an exact replica in order to evoke a traumatic memory. A situation need only be similar enough to the traumatic event to cause a trauma response. Therefore, if we keep in mind that the events leading to 15x03 aren’t exact mirrors of 07x01 or 12x23, but too reminiscent for comfort, then Dean’s behavior toward Cas starts making a bit more sense -- not excused, but understandable. A quick summary of these similarities goes as follows: Cas notices there’s is something off with Jack because of his soul; he decides to investigate on his own to avoid worrying the Winchesters and also because of his own fear of losing his family. He only comes forward with what is happening after something potentially disastrous has happened (Mary’s death). Later, Cas deviates from the agreed plan to close the wound leading to hell, which leads to another disastrous consequence (Rowena’s death). What does this look like? Cas makes a decision to act on his own, and doesn’t tell Dean (or Sam) about it, something goes wrong, someone dies. Notably, here, moreover, is that Cas obviously doesn’t die, but he has paralleled Mary before (when he was dead in s13) and there’s an argument to be made that he would eventually parallel Rowena (with heaven), but that’s from a metanarrative perspective rather than Dean’s, and I digress.

Oh, It’s worth noting, too, that the way in which the arc starting with 14x18 and culminating in 15x03 presents a similar, but not quite, chain of events as those of previous seasons signals the intentionality of the trauma narrative. 

But anyway, as we were: the resonance between the traumatic and triggering events, with the latter being traumatic in their own way, make Dean response in a way that is unfair for the situation at hand, but betray a deeper truth about Dean’s state of mind. Backtracking a little from 15x03, the first instance of Dean lashing out at Cas happens in 14x18 with the (heartbreaking) line: “Then you're dead to me.” At face value, those words are a condemnation of Cas and indicate a complete breakdown of the relationship, hinging on Jack having hurt/killed Mary. There is, however, another angle there, pain simmering beneath the surface, which makes more sense in its direction to Cas: the last time Jack, Mary, and Cas were involved in a tableaux like this, Cas died and Mary was gone. In what is an inversion of events, Mary is dead and Cas is...there, but as an echo of Jack’s birth, to say Cas is dead is a statement of fact: he did die, then. And as he was a parallel to Mary in the aftermath of Jack’s birth (and the rehashing of the John, Dean, Sam drama through Dean, Sam, and Jack), so is he a parallel to Mary here, except in circumstance. Both Mary and Cas had been after Jack. Mary happened to find him first, but Cas could’ve easily been the one to find him. Easily been the one who died. See the issue? This is obviously not to say that Dean’s grief and rage weren’t about Mary herself, but that the situations are entangled and murky. 

Further entanglement and murkiness happen when Cas is forced to change the plan to seal the hell wound in 15x03. We all know, including Dean, that there was nothing Cas could’ve done instead of what he did. But besides the change of plans, there’s an undercurrent of anxiety of the wound closing before Cas makes it out. He does, of course, but that’s the what if, always. And to illustrate the possibility, Rowena sacrifices herself to close the wound. It’s not coincidence that the similarities here are tenuous considering the stress burden from everything that has happened since 14x18 has continued to grow with no respite.

The stage is set then for the confrontation that leads to Cas walking out of the bunker. Dean is clearly on edge, and Cas is in a particularly vulnerable and hopeless headspace:

CASTIEL: Sorry about Rowena. DEAN: You're sorry? Why didn't you just stick to the damn plan? CASTIEL: Belphegor was lying. DEAN: Belphegor's a demon. CASTIEL: He was using us. He wanted to eat every last soul to take over Hell, Earth, and every... DEAN: Yeah, and we would've figured it out... after. With Rowena. CASTIEL: The plan changed, Dean. Something went wrong. You know this. Something always goes wrong. DEAN: Yeah, why does that something always seem to be you?

The reason I went of this long journey to come back to this is so as to make clear that what Dean is talking about here isn’t about Rowena at all, and it’s not about Mary either. We know Dean didn’t really blame Cas for Mary, and that he didn’t blame him for Rowena, either. But do those bolded parts sound familiar?

CASTIEL: Listen. Raphael will kill us all. He'll turn the world into a graveyard. I had no choice.

DEAN: No, you had a choice. You just made the wrong one.

CASTIEL: You don't understand. It's complicated.

DEAN: No, actually, it's not, and you know that. Why else would you keep this whole thing a secret, huh, unless you knew that it was wrong? When crap like this comes around, we deal with it... Like we always have. What we don't do is we don't go out and make another deal with the Devil!

CASTIEL: It sounds so simple when you say it like that. Where were you when I needed to hear it?

DEAN: I was there. Where were you?

DEAN: You should've come to us for help, Cas.

How about:

DEAN: Cas, you can't – With everything that's going on, you can't just go dark like that. We didn't know what happened to you. We were worried. That's not okay. CASTIEL: Well, I didn't mean to add to your distress. I – Dean, I just keep failing. Again and again. When you were taken, I searched for months and I couldn't find you. And then Kelly escaped on my watch, and I couldn't find her. And I just wanted I needed to come back here with a win for you. For myself.

[...]

DEAN : We will find a better way. CASTIEL: You mean, we? DEAN : Yes, dumbass. We. You, me, and Sam, we're just better together. So now that you're back, let's go, Team Free Will. Let's get it done. CASTIEL: I'd like that. DEAN: Great.

“Then, you’re dead to me.” “...why does that something always seem to be you”

Because it’s Cas, and Cas being dead and gone. The tragedy of the divorce arc is that Cas ends up gone, too. However, this time, it’s Dean’s fault for not stopping him. Here, Dean’s fear of Cas dying leads to the anger that ultimately pushes him away. So, yeah, Dean meant what he said, but not in the way Cas took it. Not in the way it appeared as. 

The other tragedy of Supernatural ending as it did is that Dean never got to heal from that trauma, he never got to confront Cas for it, either. Make no mistake, the empty deal is another spiral of Dean’s unaddressed trauma over Cas dying. The beats are the same, and the result is Cas, gone, and Dean, shattered. Sadly, we never got our final resolution, the climatic reunion that would mirror Dean’s prayer in purgatory and Cas’s confession in the dungeon. It’s a story left unfinished. 

[wormstacheangel]

Day 2 of @spnprideweek and part 2 of sobrenatural fic

Dean ended up coming home a little sooner than he should have, but he didn’t want to lose the shower to Sam. He didn’t want to be sweaty and cochino for his not date with Cas.

Maybe he should have cooled it with the cumbia, making it too obvious that Dean was in a good mood because as soon as he was heading out the door—smelling great, he may add—su Tio called him over to the kitchen.

“¡Oye! ¿A dónde vas tan cambiado?” Tio Bobby was by the stove, smashing the beans for dinner, as he raised his eyebrows at Dean. Sam was standing by the sink peeling tomatillos as he cranes his neck to look over at Dean.

“Dude, what did you do? Break the damn cologne bottle?”

“Es mucho?” Dean lifted his arm to smell himself. “It’s fine!”

“¿Me vas a contestar?” Bobby threw in some whole chiles into the beans and let them simmer away. “¿Quieres que te hable en inglés? Where are you going, niño feo?”

“Estas siego, viejo!” Dean walked over to the small mirror that hung on the wall. You can barely see yourself in it because of the Jesus painting on it, but it still worked. “I’m just going out with some friends.”

“Mmm.” Bobby hummed in reply, going back to turn off the beans once they looked how he wanted it. “Llévate a tu hermano.”

“Tio!” Dean turns around, wide-eyed and heart racing. “I can’t take Sam!”

“I’ll go get my coat!” Sam rinsed off his sticky hands and started to walk out of the kitchen, but Dean grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in close. Pinning him down against his chest, which was difficult considering the kid is a damn giant.

“You aren’t coming with,” Dean mutters to him before begging Bobby again. “Tio, I’ll take Sammy with me tomorrow! Nomas hoy no.”

“¿Y porque no?”

Dean looks between curious eyes, not knowing how to explain himself. He can’t say he’s going out with a friend cause then there would be no reason why Sam couldn’t tag along. But he didn’t want to come out to his Tio and brother now! Fuck that shit; he’ll just lie.

[continue reading under the tab or on ao3]

“I’m going to meet up with Cassie.” Technically true.

Bobby’s eyes widened, and Sam’s grin grew while he wiggled himself free from Dean’s grip. They both liked Cassie and were mad at Dean for breaking things up between them. However, it wasn’t tough when Cassie rarely gave him any attention, always busy with work and school. She had to know Dean was holding her back, so he broke it off. She was mad at him for a while but ultimately thanked him for doing something she didn’t have the courage to do. Rumors still spread, though, because of course, they do, about Dean cheating, but he didn’t care much about those.

Su Tio, though, cared a lot. Dean has to constantly remind him that Dean didn’t cheat on her, and he just broke it off cause Cassie was too smart for him.

Cas is probably too smart for him too.

“Okay, pues, have fun! Bring her home to say hi.” Bobby practically pushed him out the door with Sam happily towering behind him with the same annoying grin.

Dean wondered how disappointed they would be if they found out he was going out with a guy instead.

Dean drove to Cas’s house, waiting outside a few minutes before seven. He wasn’t sure what he should do. Does he honk the horn, or is that too rude? Should he park and get out of the car to knock? That seemed too much like a date thing. And he still wasn’t sure if this was a date or two not-strangers hanging out.

He stayed in the middle of the street, unsure of what to do until finally, the front door opened, and Cas stepped out with a jacked hanging on his arm. He stood outside and squinted at the car before tilting his body down to check if that was Dean.

Dean’s panic from before melted away while he nervously waved at Cas. He saw Cas’s eyes widen with a slow-growing grin before he practically ran over to Dean.

As soon as Cas opened the door, Dean felt so sure that there was nothing more right than having Cas sitting in his passenger side.

“You ready to go, Angelito?” Dean looked Cas over; he’s dressed in dark jeans and a grey long sleeve. He has never seen Cas in anything but that rumpled old suit. He never minded the suit, but now he wished he could burn it because all that suit did was hide Cas’s muscled body. Dean couldn’t stop the whistle that escaped his lips as he said, “Mira! You look good, Cas.”

The compliment was shocking to them both, for Dean especially. He awkwardly cleared his throat while trying to think of an excuse. Maybe even use the whole English as a second language excuse, but Cas quietly responded with a, “Thanks, Dean. You look pretty good yourself.”

And maybe those words broke him. He knew he was attractive but having Cas say that made his head spin.

“Your car is beautiful, by the way. I wasn’t sure if that was you in here.”

“Did you expect me to come in that bike?” Dean jokes before slowly driving away from the house, Los Angeles Azules playing softly on the radio did not make things any less awkward.

“I don’t know what I expected. I’m just glad you came, Dean.”

Dean stopped at the end of the block and turned towards the guy sitting beside him. Cas was already looking at him with puppy dog eyes and a beautiful, hopeful smile. His breath catches in his throat as his mind gets overwhelmed with wanting to reach out and touch Cas. Just to make sure the beautiful boy in his passenger seat was real and make sure que su corazon isn’t just playing games with him.

Instead, he tightened his hold on the steering wheel, fingers burning in protest, as he melts into Cas’s smile. Wanting to relax and just be with him for tonight, not caring que alguien lo va mirar. Enjoy this non-date that looks like it has the chance to become an actual one.

But is that what Dean actually wanted?

“Dean,” Cas reached over to gently touch his arm as if knowing that Dean’s mind had wandered off. He looked hesitant, as if not sure if he was allowed to. “Do you want to go eat? We can if you want.”

Dean looked down at the hand that was burning him through his clothes, knowing damn well that Cas was giving him the chance to make this into something more. Algo que se sentía que iba a ser cósmico en su vida. Y Dean quería eso en su vida.

“Yeah,” Dean answered both questions. His hand loosened on the wheel before he reached over to take Cas’s hand in his. Hearing Cas’s breath catch in a gasp, but he didn’t look up at him; instead, Dean twined their fingers together before letting them sit in the seat between them. Dean focused back on the road before turning left to his side of town. “I got the perfect place. Te va gustar! You’re not like vegan or anything, right?”

“No.” Dean turned to catch Cas looking at him still and knew they were both feeling the same excited electricity that clouded the car just by the giddiness in his voice. “Where are you taking me on our, oh um…Oh! primero! Primero date, Dean?”

Ahi esta! La confirmación que necesitaba. This is an actual date! Pero, las palabras no le dieron pánico. No. Instead, Dean squeezed Cas’s hand as he laughed, feeling like he would just fly away if he didn’t hold on.

“You passed high school Spanish, Cas?”

“I did, but google translate did most of the work.”

When Dean parked outside the familiar food truck, he squeezed Cas’s hand once before they got out. They walked together, bumping shoulders while their hands stayed buried in their pockets. Cas didn’t question their lack of touch; instead, he smiled up at Dean as he listened to him rave about his friend Victor’s food.

“Not as good as mine, but it’s good,” Dean adds as they make it to the front of the window, where Victor can hear him.

“Cabron!” Victor said with no fire in his tone but a growing grin across his face. He held his hand out for Dean to take for a handshake. “Nice to see you, primo. Where’s Sam?”

“Lo deje en la casa!” When Dean took a step back, he put his arm around Cas’s shoulder to squeeze him close. “Pero, I brought a new customer.”

“Hi.” Cas looked a little shaken up, and Dean just wanted to lean closer to leave a kiss on his cheek, but he restrained. No necesita mas chisme circling around about him. “I’m Cas.”

“Victor.” Victor raised an eyebrow at him but reached over to shake Cas’s hand in response. “What can I get you and the pendejo around you?”

“Oh. Dean isn’t-” Cas frowned over at Dean, but Dean just shook his head, letting him know that it was okay. Cas squinted at him before he gave a small smile, not understanding but accepting. “You order for me?”

“Sure, Angelito. Anything you don’t like?”

“As long as it’s not so spicy, I don’t mind anything.”

Cas stayed stiff under Dean’s arm as they ordered and waited for their food. Eventually, Dean couldn’t help himself; the street light and the neon sign were the only things keeping this place lit, but it was still pretty dark, so he turned his face to press his nose against Cas’s temple.

“¿Qué pasa, Angelito? What’s wrong?”

“Dean.” Cas sounded shocked as he started to move back, but Dean held him a little tighter. “Someone is gonna see you.”

“Que miran. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

Cas sighed but relaxed back into Dean. “I just didn’t like him calling you that. You aren’t stupid, Dean.” Dean chuckled, and Cas turned to look at him, glaring. “I don’t see how this is funny.”

“Ay, mi Angelito, he didn’t say it in a mean way. It’s just the way we talk to each other. He’s my friend.”

Cas blinked at him a few times before he fell back against Dean, his arms crossed over his chest. “Well, I don’t like it.”

“Trust me, Cas, it’s fine. Quedate conmigo long enough, and you’ll be calling me the same thing.”

Cas didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and Dean wondered if he said the wrong thing again, but then Cas clicked his tongue before turning to Dean. “I don’t know what…um, that word you said means. Que..que-?”

“Quedate?” Cas nodded, looking back at Dean, waiting for him to explain. It brought warmth to Dean’s chest, knowing he’ll have to repeat it in English when before it came out as a joke. He swallowed hard as he looked back at those baby blues. The words barely came out in a quiet whisper, “Quedate. Stay. Conmigo. With me. I said, stay with me.”

“Oh.” Cas looked down at Dean’s lips as he talked. “I can-I can do that.”

Dean hummed a response as his eyes traveled down to Cas’s tongue poking out to lick at his lips. His heart was hammering in his chest until it came to a stop when he heard, “Dean! Oye, cabron! I ain’t calling your name again!”

They pulled apart, and Dean jogged over alone to grab their bag of food. Dean decided to get a few of his favorites and drinks.

“Victor,” Dean called his friend over again. “No le digas a nadie que estaba aquí. Okay? Or I’m gonna steal all your customers otra vez.”

Victor’s eyes traveled from Dean to Cas, who was waiting where Dean left him looking angelic under the streetlamp, before falling back to Dean. He wondered what could be going through Victor’s mind right that moment, but then he heard his friend let out a heavy sigh.

“Whatever you say, primo.”

“Thanks. Call me tomorrow, and I’ll work for you this weekend!” Dean starts walking backward, back to Cas.

“Shit! Really? ¡No juegues conmigo, Dean!”

“Llámame mañana!”

Dean makes it back to Cas, who automatically reaches for the drinks to help, and motions for him to walk back to the car.

“Come on. I wanna take you somewhere else.”

Dean drove them somewhere nicer, more private, but still a parking lot.

As soon as Dean parks the car, he opens his door, “Come on; we can sit on the hood. You might wanna put that jacket on.”

Cas looks excited when he opens the car door and walks out into the parking lot that faces the beach. “Dean! Won’t we get a ticket?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just bring the drinks.”

They sat on the hood of the impala, eating and talking, as the sounds of the waves crashing to the shore mixed with la musica norteña coming from inside the car. Dean soon finds out that Cas doesn’t know how to dance, so he puts on one of his favorite mixtapes, and cumbia plays loudly through the speaker.

They danced in front of the headlights, if you can call it dancing. They always ended up bursting into fits of laughter as they fell into each other because Cas did have two left feet. Eventually, Dean just took Cas from around the waist, and they just spun around in circles.

Feeling Cas wrap his arms around Dean’s neck to hold him as their grins were so close together made Dean’s heart leap. Eventually, Cas’s forehead fell against Dean’s, and the dancing slowed to a nice sway even though the beat was only getting quicker.

“Cas?” He answered Dean with a soft hum. “Me estas gustando mas cada segundo.”

“I don’t know-”

“I like you.” Dean’s eyes closed as he leaned in to brush their noses together. “Mi Angelito.”

Dean never thought he would be here in this situation with a guy, but he has never wanted anything more in his life. Feeling strong hands run through his hair as a strong and firm body pressed against him. He loved the intoxicating smell of Cas’s woodsy shampoo that he would have never smelled on a girl. The stubble of beard rubbed against his chin as Cas turned his head until finally, fucking finally, he had those pink lips on his.

He should be scared. Esto no es algo que debería hacer con El pinche Sonidito playing in the background. He shouldn’t have one hand behind Cas’s neck to deepen the kiss, and his toes shouldn’t curl up when he feels Cas’s heavy sigh inside his mouth. He shouldn’t become so quickly addicted to Cas’s hands reaching under Dean’s shirt to press firmly at his back, feeling the familiar slight burn become a damn forest fire in him.

Esto no es algo que debería querer. Cas no es alguien que debería querer pero aqui esta. Queriendo a nadie más pero a Cas. Cas. Cas.

Cas pulled away just enough only to have their noses touching, their breaths still mixing, as he whispered. “I like you too, Dean.”

And yeah. That was it. That was all it took.

Las cadenas del maldito miedo that held him back from even thinking of wanting Cas this way, se rompieron. Dean ya pertenece completamente a Cas.

Cas grinned as he looked back at Dean, his hand reaching to cradle his face gently. His thumb was caressing Dean’s freckles on his cheek before he happily announced. “¡Me gustas mucho!”

Dean laughed, his arms reaching down to wrap around Cas’s waist and spin him around. Both of them laughing as they continued dancing and kissing until it was late enough that they had to go home.

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

so get this. I was gonna roll around in Tombstone related fluff today - but no, no - this post came across my dash so Now We Are Gonna Discuss the Carnal Consumption of Meat as it appears on That Show Supernatural.  YEAH BUDDIES!

(also my sincere apologies to OP of the inspiration post who innocently tagged it with “lunch date!”  because I am about to go Elsewhere, cursedly).

Let’s all go meat man, after the cut!

This analysis centers primarily on 5x14 Bloody Valentine.  The title of course is a semi-homage to a 3D Slasher Film Jensen starred in circa 2009. 

Which I will be renting soon I guess.  ,[<- parasocial panda GET BACK IN YOUR ENCLOSURE]

Also Its Really Fun that the trailer for Said Cinema ends with “nothing says date movie like a 3-D ride to hell” [are you also thinking of Cas pulling Dean out of hell, or are you normal?]  ***unironically the teaser for 5x14 is -

EXT. SIDEWALK - IN FRONT OF ALICE'S APARTMENT BUILDING

RUSSEL 

First date.

They then eat each other.  Literally they eat each others flesh.  They also do it while dirty talking about it.  SPN IS A SHOW 

ALICE Ugh! I've been so alone. So empty...

RUSSEL I know. Me too.

ALICE I want you, Russel---All of you... inside me...

[they both take bites out of each other, Alice chewing on a piece of Russel's flesh]

****Remember this detail, as it is important.

ANYWAY, it’s truly Cursed that not only are we doing an homage to this 3-D Jensen Horror Date Flick but also this episode is specifically centered on Valentine’s Day.  The day honoring romance and love Now Coopted by Hallmark, everyone, that is the day spn writers chose to introduce us to 

Sir Horseman of THE Biblical Apocalypse Famine. 

Canonically, we are aware that the show is drawing from the book of Revelations in its depiction of the Four Horsemen.  Here’s what it says about Famine -

"When He broke the third seal, I heard the third living creature saying, "Come." I looked, and behold, a black horse; and he who sat on it had a pair of scales in his hand.”

-Revelations 6:5

Famine holds scales (used to weigh out grain in times of food scarcity).  Spn’s depiction is represented as hunger, a bottomless pit of need.  It consumes souls (demon and human alike).  

Cas describes Famine a little more poetically:

CASTIEL 

"And then will come Famine riding on a black steed. He will ride into the land of plenty... "

"... and great will be the Horseman's hunger, for he is hunger. "

"His hunger will seep out and poison the air. "

***Consider a prior season in which we are introduced to the Seven Deadly Sins.  Which are the sins associated with hunger?

Gluttony

and Lust.

***this is also important

Back to the episode.  Case cold open, and we find out that Alice was a Nice Girl.  In that she didnt drink, smoke or

have premarital sex.

***So Alice’s hunger for the sin of Lust caused her to succumb to it; and her demise was presented as Gluttony (literally eating her partner’s flesh). HMM

Famine’s presence is affecting the town, and Cas is not immune.

DEAN 

And when did you start eating?

CASTIEL 

Exactly. My hunger-- it's a clue, actually.

***They lay it out a little more in case you missed it ->

SAM 

I thought famine meant starvation, like as in, you know, food.

CASTIEL 

Yes. Absolutely. But not just food. I mean, everyone seems to be starving for something--Sex, attention, drugs, love...

***this is so important.  but of course because its spn and our textual narrators are generally unreliable (even in a Ben Edlund episode, yes I know)

we get a red herring

CASTIEL 

Right. The cherub made them crave love, and then Famine came, and made them rabid for it.

***but that’s not accurate.  they didn’t get married or become obsessed with each other (remember the cursed coin in 4x08 Wishful Thinking and the unconditional love wish? not what happened here). they had premarital sex.  they did the thing Alice considers wrong, and dark, and sinful.  and then they ate each others’ flesh.

DEAN 

Okay, but what about you? I mean, since when do angels secretly hunger for White Castle?

CASTIEL 

It's my vessel-- Jimmy. His, uh, appetite for red meat has been touched by Famine's effect

***mad lad Jimmy Novak’s hunger is for...red meat?  He is starving for red meat?  You are telling me that the Novaks, red blooded conservative religious midwestern Novaks, ate RED MEAT SO SPARINGLY that Jimmy Novak was LITERALLY starving for it?!?!  No way.  Absolutely no way.  This is a man who was such a religious zealot he STUCK HIS HAND IN BOILING WATER and accepted an angel of the lord into his own body but his secret hunger was for fucking ground beef?

give me a damn break.

to me this is an absolute coverup.  Because Cas’s burger consumption is not related one iota to his vessel Jimmy Novak.

it is a representation of Cas falling.  Cas’s cravings for meat represent his growing (and very much prohibited) feelings for...humanity (Dean Winchester), and they are presenting as Gluttony in the form of his downing more and more copious amounts of red meat.  

SERIOUSLY, consider this - at one point the depiction is so desperately carnal that he is eating raw ground beef with his bare hands. It is fucking uncomfortable.  and it is SUPPOSED to be.  Famine stirs up hunger for the prohibited.  For the sinful. That which we are starving for but do not believe we can ever have, so we lust and we lust and we LUST after it, but should we allow ourselves even just a taste of what we have been ravenously craving, we binge it until we ourselves disappear into the oblivion of our own sinful, dark desires.

Since You Want More Examples of why this cant possibly be hunger for Cheeseburgers and Cheeseburgers alone, Consider Famine’s effect on Dean.  Remember his doctor kink?

**when its revealed that Doctor Corman has succumbed to Famine’s poison by drinking himself to death, Dean - very uncharacteristically by the way - reacts by saying out loud

DEAN Thanks. Crap! I really kind of liked this guy.

***please note that Doctor Corman says the following to Dean in the prior scene they have together -

DR. CORMAN [to Dean]

Agent Marley, you just can't stay away.

****was that a flirtation?

***Also, Dean doesn’t want to go out and chase tail for Valentines Day.   

SAM

I mean, what do you always call it-- Uh, unattached drifter Christmas?

DEAN 

Oh, yeah. Well... be that as it may...I don't know. Guess I'm not feeling it this year.

SAM 

So you're not into bars full of lonely women?

DEAN 

Nah, I guess not. [takes a sip of his beer] Ahh. What?

SAM 

That's when a dog doesn't eat-- That's when you know something's really wrong.

***oh look we are relating things to eating again.  sex/lust to gluttony.  hmmm hmmm hmmm

ANYHOW -  *takes deep breath*

 this is also the Episode Where This Scene Lives

****JACKTING JOICES

oh and speaking of jacting joices, this is also the Dean Notices Cupids Crotch Episode.

frAckles, I am once again asking why you only permit celestial beings to hug you from behi-[gunshots]

but Dean isn’t hungry.  Why? Famine has the explanation, and we get it after Dean immediately runs inside after Cas heads in to complete his portion of their plan barely giving him any time to do so because he misses him that much.

FAMINE 

I disagree. [Famine moves closer to Dean and touches him] Yes. I see. That's one deep, dark nothing you got there, Dean. Can't fill it, can you? Not with food or drink. Not even with sex.

DEAN 

Oh, you're so full of crap.

FAMINE 

Oh, you can smirk and joke and lie to your brother, lie to yourself, but not to me! 

***not Dean making all of those homophobic/homoerotic jokes every time he’s in danger or feeing uncomfortable; not that, that can’t possibly be what Famine is referencing, right?

I can see inside you, Dean. I can see how broken you are, how defeated. 

***not THIS parallel:

AMARA:

You're a mystery. I can see inside your heart. Feel the love you feel, except… It's cloaked in shame

You can't win, and you know it. But you just keep fighting. Just... keep going through the motions. 

***not the motions of performative heterosexuality!!

***Dean’s not hungry because in his heart he truly believes that he can’t actually have what he hungers for.  That Thing Which This Episode Overtly but Also Very Clearly Made Obvious.  It’s an angel riding shotgun [I did Do That and I am Not Sorry], eating a burger in the front seat of the impala.  But, I’ve deviated from the meat of this essay [gunshots] [this time just for the bad joke].

BONUS

there’s Exists another episode in which a man ravenously consumes red meat; eventually succumbing to eating raw beef with his bare hands in the season prior to this one.  

Yes Supernatural the Show That Brought Us Not One But Two Scenes of Persons Carnally Consuming Red Meat With Their Bare Hands.  

This episode is a MOTW - the man in question is a rougaru - a monster that starts out as human but due to some specific genetic disorder (hmmm hmmm hmm crack in THE chassis hmmm hmmm) soon begins to be extremely hungry - “for everything, but eventually long pig.” AKA human flesh. 

Wanna know the kicker?  

Episode’s called Metamorphosis.

(GIF by jackttwist)

I’ll see myself out.

[DOUBLE BONUS for extra credit:

if you really wanna wild out, go watch the scene of Jack the rougaru looking at himself in the mirror in 4x04 - and then meander on over to 7x01 and check out God!stiel looking in the mirror as the leviathans writhe inside him over there. It’s worth the walk.]

***oh and @lilac-void​ im tagging you in this one because in exchange for your KIND creator content nomination I guess I will respond by cursing you with an Honorary tag in this, a Meat Meta.  you’re welcome slash I'm sorry XO [but seriously thank you again for your kindness and appreciation; it really motivated me to sit down and get moving on making more content <3]

[gaysie]

about once a week I think about that post you made about cas doing booty workouts as a means of finding ownership of his body and then him shaming sam's flatass or whatever so. just know ur actions have consequences

oh spectacular i want to live in the back of everyone’s mind like an annoying smudge on the windshield you can’t get rid of... anyway word like that post was a joke but ALSO it’s true like cas’s vessel is no longer just his vessel it’s his BODY. his body. his alone. but that won’t change the fact that he wears jimmy’s face and jimmy’s skinny legs and jimmy’s bony elbows. it may be his body but it won’t change the face claire wears when she looks at him. but how is he supposed to make his body belong to him? not a hand-me-down of another man’s, but clearly shaped by his own life?

i don’t think it’s conscious at first. it comes naturally with living, with loving, with being. the way jack’s smiles and laughter are infectious enough to write crinkles into the corners of cas’s eyes. the way dean’s been practicing cooking, and he’s good at it, chopping fresh vegetables or simmering butter with loving attention, filling cas’s plate with the work of his hands. and eventually the sharp angles of jimmy’s body soften, filling out into something more comfortable, more dad-shaped, a body that says i am loved and i am warm and i am happy. it’s cas’s body. and he sees claire again and she blinks at him, and she doesn’t look at him quite the way she used to. she blurts out the question of if he put on weight, cas says yes, he supposes he did, and claire changes the subject.

and maybe one day he picks up a copy of cosmo from the dentist office and reads the “7 booty blastin’ exercises to build a bigger butt in 1 week” and he’s simply intrigued. he’s human now, and he knows exercise is good for humans, but he has no desire to flatten his stomach or shrink his thighs of any of the other exercises in the magazine. no, he’s quite done with minimizing himself ever again. but building a bigger butt? well. that’s decidedly more interesting. he steals the magazine from the dentist office along with 7 travel toothpastes

and it takes longer than the week promised in the magazine, but eventually his work pays off. he looks in the mirror one day and jimmy is gone, permanently. in his place is a DUMPTRUCK ass that wont quit and a man whose family’s love changed him, body and soul. and by god he’s an expert at donkey kicks now so if sam “paper ass” winchester makes ANY comment so help him he’s dragging his flatass back to the cage.

anyway when claire sees him next it’s like exactly this piece by the genius @skepticalfrogg

[orionsangel86]

your bare minimum post is great and I am totally with you on ever thing you said but what about the absolute most ? what if you had every thing you could want ? what would that look like ? do you have a check list ?

Since I now have two asks asking me the same kinda thing I figure I might as well write out a wishlist! Though bear in mind this is literally my absolute fantasies and not anything I actually expect will happen okay!

Disclaimer: Reading this may make you want things from the ending that Supernatural will never ever give us. Do not get your expectations up based on this post. This is not meta. It is the futile hopes of an emotional woman who just wants these boys to be happy goddammit.

Bare Minimum post referred to here

Supernatural Series Finale Wishlist

Castiel narrates the episode. We get his POV, explaining how his love for Dean grew over the years.

Dean rescues Cas from the Empty in a huge call back to how Cas rescued Dean from Hell.

Dean has to go into Castiel’s mind to wake him up and he sees how Cas falls in love with him and has to convince him to wake up by confessing his love back.

Cas chooses to give up his grace and be human.

It is revealled that Cas has a human soul.

The Empty gets sent back to sleep. It is confirmed that Cas will never go back there even after he eventually grows old and dies. His soul will go to heaven.

Sam finds Eileen, and we get domestic scenes of them happy together.

Sam gets to keep the dog.

Sam’s happiness with Eileen is what triggers Dean finally opening up to Sam. We get an emotional brother heart to heart where Dean finally admits his feelings for Cas, and Sam reveals that he has always known but didn’t want to pry.

It is revealled explicitly that Dean is bisexual (not just Cas-sexual or “gay for Cas).

We get backstory to Dean’s bisexuality - maybe a confirmation that the thing with Lee WAS more than friendship.

Confirmation that Dean hid it from John, and supressed his sexuality for fear his father would reject him. (any chance to get a dig at John in there)/

Sam is the most accepting, wonderful, loving brother ever and gives a speech that makes us all cry that’ll go down in history kinda like that “you can breath now” speech Simon’s mom gave him in Love, Simon.

When trying to convince Cas to come back with him from the Empty, Dean’s “i love you” confession speech is another tearjerker, and is just as beautiful, poetic, and heartfelt as Cas’s was. Bonus points for “you said you couldn’t have what you want... but you’ve had me all along.”

Once Cas is saved and they are both back from the Empty, Dean cradles Cas in his arms and they hold each other tightly, and then share their first kiss. It’s passionate. Bob Singer uses the drone. We zoom out. Sam is standing awkwardly in the corner. It’s hilarious.

SOFT EPILOGUE

No Seriously. My biggest wish is a soft epilogue montage of the brothers growing old with their respective partners, with scenes along the lines of as follows:

Sam decides he wants to travel/go to college/leave the bunker basically. With Eileen. Dean realises that he can’t stay in the bunker without Sam. They all pack their bags and turn off the lights. They go their separate ways.

The brothers say goodbye and drive of in separate directions.

Dean and Cas find a house by the ocean. They do it up and build a life together.

We see them happy. We see them watching cowboy movies together.

We see them in bed together. Naked, sweaty... soft focus cliche sex scene like those old hallmark movies.

We see the morning after, sunlight pouring in through the window. Dean wakes and looks at a sleeping Cas. (Mirror to the scene with Lisa in 6x01)

We see them through the kitchen window. Making breakfast until a song comes on the radio. Dean takes Cas in his arms and they dance. (mirror to the scene with Garth and Bess in 15x10)

We see Sam and Eileen as well. We see them also sharing a happy life.

Sam graduates from college.

We see Sam propose. We see their wedding.

Dean and Cas dance at Sam’s wedding.

Sam and Eileen have kids. The boys are going grey.

Dean and Cas are sitting watching the sunset over the ocean. They are content and happy. Dean says it’s been 10 years since the events of 15x19, when they defeated Chuck. 

Sam, Dean, and Cas meet up to commemorate the last 10 years. 10 years of peace and freedom. Turns out you can have both. There are fireworks.

Jack appears. They all hug. Cas narrates that even though the story is over now, it doesn’t really end. So long as you know that they lived, they loved, and they were happy, but most importantly, they were at peace.

Carry on wayward son plays. We all break down in tears.

Other things I’d like to see but couldn’t fit into the above:

OG Charlie returns

OG Bobby returns

We get confirmation that heaven has been restored

Did Jack bring the angels back from the Empty? Confirmation of that too please

Jack and Cas get a heartfelt conversation where Cas gets to tell him how proud he is.

Now if anyone comes into my inbox telling me that this is so perfect its gonna ruin the actual finale for them don’t say I didn’t warn you. :P

[pumpkinpiejack]

A couple days ago I sent this ask to @lobotomycastiel and actually ended up writing it. It’s mainly about Dean, Claire, and baby Jack dealing with some of the pain of losing Cas.

You can also read it on AO3.

Three days.

Three days, Dean had been in charge of Jack. Three days since they found him smoldering the blankets on Kelly’s bed, sheets stained with blood. Three days since Dean had picked him up and refused to put him down.

Three days since Dean put Cas’s body on that pyre and watched it burn to nothing but ash and dust.

It stains everything he touches, streaks against Jack's baby pale skin, fingerprints on Sam’s clothes. The taste coating the back of his tongue. He can't escape it, can't drive fast enough to get rid of it. It lingers in the air around him and mocks him for his loss, but he still can’t seem to bring himself to wash it off.

Jack hasn't stopped crying since they lit the pyre. Dean prepared the body himself. He owed this to Cas after everything, to prepare his body right, to make sure his hands were gentle. He carried him out to the pyre too, a baby strapped to his chest, unnaturally quiet in the fading light of the sun.

Dean hadn't been able to finish it. His entire body stood curled around Jack, his face buried in the baby's soft hair as his hands shook so hard he couldn't light the match. He couldn't pour the salt, he couldn't hold the gas can.

His skin felt too tight for his body, like something was trying to escape, an animal in his chest scratching and clawing at the inside of his ribs and everything hurt.

Jack cries and he cries and he cries and Dean is thrown back into every shitty night on the road with Sam as a baby and he can't breathe. He remembers waking up at night to the same sound and curling up in a playpen that was far too small for both him and Sam. He wanted to make it better. He wanted to be able to help and make the crying stop.

But, the only time Jack stops is when Dean holds him and only when it's in a specific way. His tiny cheek needs to be pressed into Dean’s shoulder, just over Cas’s handprint and doesn't that just fucking hurt.

It aches in a whole new way, like he somehow senses Cas there.

The handprint itself has faded over the years. All the times he’s been healed and rebuilt from the inside out, and it is the only thing that remains. A discolored and slightly raised patch of skin that means more to him than any physical object on earth (besides his baby of course).

Three days. Two days to drive home and one day to prepare himself.

Sam made the call. Dean couldn't get Jack to stop crying long enough to do it himself, not without risking waking him up. Even with a day to prepare himself, it still wasn't nearly enough.

When Claire walks in it's like the floor falls out from underneath Dean’s feet. She’s a mess. Her eyes rimmed red, mascara and eyeliner streaking down her face and she looks like she drove straight through the night. Her hands shake, just like his as he hands Jack to Sam.

He holds him awkwardly, his hands too big, too unaccustomed to holding something so fragile. Dean could count the number of times Sam had held Jack on one hand. He couldn't be away from Dean for long or he would start crying, shrill shrieks that shake the very ground they stood on. Cries that cause the glass to rattle in its pane and nearly makes Dean’s ears bleed on more than one occasion.

“You look like a mess.”

“Says you.”

Touché. Dean hasn't slept either, hasn't showered, hasn't eaten. He drove 1,700 miles in two days, a crying baby strapped into his backseat the entire way. He knows he looks like shit. He still has ash smeared across his face, he can't seem to bring himself to wipe it away.

He can't bring himself to be far from Jack, can't stand him crying. He can't look at Jack, his eyes repeatedly drawn to the blue that is so familiar and so foreign all at once. He can't light a match. He can't think about his mom. He can't admit Cas is….

There's a lot he can't do right now.

Claire’s voice is quiet. It’s calm in all the ways that Dean knows that she isn't. He can see the rage boiling under the surface. The sadness, the grief all tangled into a little ball, locked away so deep inside of her that the only place it was visible was her eyes.

She tries to stay strong, but she still looks around as if she’s missing something, because the truth is, she is. She looks around the room searching for the same figure that he does every time he enters a room and they’ll never find it. Not now and never again.

He turns to tell Cas a joke, and he’s not there. He’ll see a blurry image of tan and black out of the corner of his eye and reach out with Jack, a mumbled thank god under his breath, but there’s never anyone there.

He’s just alone as she is, even with three other people in the room.

And then the dam breaks.

“How could you?” Dean keeps looking at her. He owes her that. He looks her in the eye and listens, because he owes her that. He watches as they fill with tears and, god, hers are the same as Jack’s. So similar but not quite right. Almost everything he could ever want and his chest burns.

Cas never cried, even when he was dying on the floor of that barn, black ooze streaming out of his mouth, skin rotting and flaking up the side of his neck, he didn't cry. He just looked at Dean with those blue eyes and told him he loved him, that he loved all of them.

They never got to talk about it.

“You were supposed to keep him safe!” Her voice breaks as she launches herself at him, her fists smacking against his chest, but he can't really feel it. Over and over and over she drives the side of her fist into his chest. Like a little kid throwing a tantrum. He makes no move to stop her, to grab her hands and still them. He just lets her. I owe her this, I deserve this. “You promised me you would keep him safe,” and all at once her anger is gone, washed away with her tears as she leans her head against his chest and she sobs. “How could you?”

Finally, Dean moves. He places a hand on the back of her head, careful of any indication that she didn't want to be touched, but she just leans in farther, collapses into his chest and sobs harder.

She’s so small, so young despite her fiery disposition, he could tuck her perfectly under his chin. Dean remembers feeling on top of the world at her age. Twenty years old and suddenly he could rule the world, tear it all down from the ground up and rebuild it in his own image if he wanted. But here she is, a perfect mirror of him and all he sees is a scared little kid.

He can hear Jack crying in the background, having reached his limit of being away from Dean.

Eventually, she pulls away, shoving him and turning to where Sam is holding Jack uncomfortably. Claire smears her makeup farther down her face. There is still anger in her eyes and part of it scares him. It was the same anger he had held the first time he laid eyes on Jack.

Part of him wanted to leave him there. Part of him wanted to do what he originally planned when he walked into that house gun in hand, but he knows he never would. Jack wasn't a monster. He wasn't anything more than a baby. He cried and screamed and had the tiniest hands and the bluest eyes and even just looking at him made Dean’s heart soften.

Something like that couldn't be a monster anymore than Sam could, or little Bobby John.

So, instead, he scooped Jack up, the baby's skin burning his own, a tiny handprint searing itself onto the skin of his left forearm.

“He looks like Cas.” Claire laughs, but it sounds more like a sob than anything. Jack seems to quiet as she draws closer, his blue eyes widening as he takes her in. He’s so small in Sam's arms, blinking and whimpering as his crying petered down to nothing.

“Yeah he does.” Dean’s voice is rough as he reaches out to take Jack from Sam’s arms.

Sam is looking at the two of them, his eyes flickering between them as if it was a tennis match, a furrow between his brows. He is probably just as confused as Dean is.

Jack doesn't just stop crying. He either cries so much that he passes out or Dean spends hours with him pressed against the last fading remnants of the handprint, humming and rocking him. To see him just fade off while still awake was damn near a miracle.

Claire collapses in one of the chairs around the radar and holds out her arms expectantly.

“Come on, then.” Dean lets out a huff of laughter, or something as close to it as he's gotten since everything. He moves closer with Jack in his arms and slides him into Claire’s. Jack coos and waves his hands around. It's the uncontrolled movements of a newborn, more of a muscle spasm than anything, and Claire snorts out another little laugh as he accidentally smacks her collarbone.

“He’s so calm.” Sam's voice is awed.

Dean is right there with him, Jack isn't crying, he isn't uncomfortable. For the first time, he seems almost happy. He curls closer to her and lets out the tiniest yawn, his eyes crunching closed. Claire looks mesmerized. She gives Jack her fingers and he wraps his whole hand around them.

“I'm staying.” Claire says suddenly, eyes still locked with Jack’s. She can't seem to look away and neither can he.

“Okay.” And it’s as simple as that.

-

Three days. 84 hours, with no more sleep than a cat nap here and there and yet he still couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Every time he tries, he manages to get five steps away from Jack’s bassinet before he starts to scream and he couldn't exactly sleep with the baby on him, not when he could wake up from a nightmare fighting.

So he wanders the bunker. Up and down through the levels, crisscrossing through the hallways. Jack is tucked up against his shoulder like always. The thumb of the handprint brushes against his cheek in the mockery of a caress. He’s whimpering slightly, but at the very least he hasn’t completely started crying yet.

Dean reaches the kitchen only to find it already occupied. Claire is perched on the counter, a beer in one hand and the other wiping away another round of tears. Dean debates leaving her there, but finds that he can’t.

He’s been there more than a handful of times and during each one he was constantly torn between wanting to be left the fuck alone and wanting someone to notice. He wanted someone to realize that he wasn’t doing okay, to sit there with him as he broke apart. He never wanted to talk, didn’t want to cry in front of them, but realizing that someone cared enough to notice his downward spiral always seemed to help in its own fucked up way.

So, Dean pulls the bottle from her loose fingertips and puts on a pot of coffee. Claire makes grabby-hands at him until he relents, handing over Jack who just coos and twines his hands into her leather jacket. Well, Dean’s leather jacket. The same one she had snagged from his closet not too long ago, as if he wouldn’t notice. Jack immediately falls more silent than he’s been all day, his eyes sliding shut with another yawn that is far too big for his tiny body.

She’s so good with him already, her hands gentle as they shush him.

Claire thinks her hands are made for violence, for torture, for killing, for hunting. She thinks that’s all they’ll ever really be good for. She’s a predator, a soldier, made for a war that she didn’t know existed until it ruined her life. But those hands are also for protecting, for comforting, for saving.

She is good, at her core. Gentle and loving and all of Dean and Cas and Sam and Jody and Donna’s good traits all mixed into one girl who stands before him. A better person than he’ll ever be.

She’s stolen his bad traits too, the same way she stole that jacket. Put it on as a layer of protection against the world. It’s too big for her, doesn’t fit quite right, because it’s not hers and it’s not Dean’s either. It was too big for Dean too when he first put it on 20 years ago and he doesn’t know if he ever actually grew into it, or just thinks he did.

Together, they sit, shoulder to shoulder and don't say anything and that’s enough for the both of them. They drink their coffee until they can blame their shaking hands on that and listen to Jack’s even breathing.

Dean doesn’t move, even as Claire rests her head against his shoulder, the same shoulder Jack does, and he feels the tears soak in.

Four days. 96 hours and Jack finally manages to fall asleep without crying.

-

Nine days.

Nine days and he’s barely surviving. He can’t move, he can’t breathe, he can’t exist without something tearing at him from the inside out. But, he continues on anyway.

So many things he can’t do. So many contradictions that have slowly become his life.

Claire and him have a system. They work like a machine, two parts of the same person. They don’t look at each other, they can’t. Dean sees all the ways she looks like Cas, all the ways she looks like him, and she sees all the ways he’s failed her.

But they work together, anyway, for Jack.

And that scares him too.

It’s hard to see her with him and not see himself reflected back. He was a lot younger when he first had to learn how to change a diaper or make a bottle but she’s still too young to have that responsibility thrown onto her.

Claire takes to it like she takes to everything else: a fake grin that he can spot from a mile away and a sly joke.

She pours formula into the bottle and he gets his bath ready and at night they sit together on the counter and they watch over Jack. On the nights they manage to sleep he can hear her sneak into his room and pass out in the chair closest to Jack’s bassinet. Four hours later, he guides her into the bed and takes up her spot.

It never fails to make him feel like shit when she steals Jack’s from his hands. Makes him feel like John.

Dean doesn’t tell Sam this, but he somehow knows, the same way he always does.

Sam looks at him as he looks at Claire and marches up to him with a furrow in his brow and Dean knows that he’s not going to like whatever comes out of Sam’s mouth next.

“Can we talk?”

“No.” Sam gives him a harsh look and grabs his arm, dragging him out of the room anyway, down the hall and around the corner so their voices won’t travel.

“Sam, I said no.” Dean doesn’t even have the strength to pull his arm out of Sam’s grip, he’s just so tired.

“Yeah, well, I don’t care.” Sam leans against the wall across from him, his hands open by his side, his shoulders slouched. “Look at me, Dean, you need to let Claire help you.”

“I have.”

“No you haven’t.” Sam sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Dean really wants to take a pair of clippers to it. “She helps you, but you don’t let her.”

“Well, maybe it’s because it’s not her responsibility.” Dean crosses his arms, feet squared, even as he sways slightly.

“And it’s somehow yours? Dean, we were all friends with Cas.”

Were, were, were. Past tense, always past tense because Cas is gone. He’s not coming back, he’s ash and bone on a beach 20 hours away, and Dean took a shower but he can still somehow taste it on the back of his throat. His burns sting when he moves his hands. The handprint of his forearm reminds him of the one on his shoulder and he can’t breathe.

“Yes.” Dean chokes out. “Yes. He’s my responsibility and I’m not going to push that onto someone else just because I want to drink or sleep or go on a hunt.”

Dean watches as Sam’s entire face goes blank. He shuts down for a moment before coming back to life all at once, like a computer rebooting itself after it’s been overloaded.

“Dean.” It’s Sam’s turn to choke out the word. “Dean you're not dad.” Dean bolts upright and suddenly wants to punch something. He wants to scream and yell and feel the crunch of wood and bone under his feet.

He doesn’t even have the excuse of the Mark of Cain this time. Just his own shitty emotions getting the better of him.

“I’m not talking about this.”

“Yes we are.” Sam catches Dean's sleeve and Dean nearly socks him on principle. “Dean letting people help you isn't bad, that’s what new parents do. Claire isn’t four, she can choose whether she wants to help or not and right now she wants to help. So let her.”

Dean knows. He knows for as much as Claire acts like him, she isn’t him, but it’s hard to divorce the two ideas when he looks at her everyday and sees a mirror.

She’s been getting more frustrated over the week because Dean won’t let her help. She has to push her way through him in order to do anything useful. Dean can’t stop her from staying awake but he can make sure that he gets everything done before she does so she doesn’t have to.

Dean doesn’t want Claire to feel like she needs to help just because she can calm Jack down. She deserves to have her own life. To go out and hunt and have fun if she wants to and not have to take care of a newborn that is needier than most. But no matter what he does, she’s still right there next to him, trying to help in any way she can.

Dean rips his arm out of Sam’s grip and marches back to where Claire is holding a whimpering Jack. His eyes glow gold ever so often, but she just shushes him with a kiss on the forehead.

Claire already loves that kid. Loves him enough that she would put his life before hers. And you know what? Dean can’t even bring himself to blame her when he made the same choice at four.

Dean collapses into the chair next to her and reaches out to grab him.

“Do you want to go get his bottle ready while I try to keep him settled?” The smile she sends his way is worth more than anything.

-

“So I’ve been trying to find out why you two, in particular, calm Jack down so much.” Sam’s voice echoed through the bunker, breaking the suffocating silence they’ve been in for so long. He stares at the two perched in their usual spot on the counter, a single mug of coffee teetering between them, lipstick smears on one side.

They look like shit.

In sync they give him a raised eyebrow. Claire passes Jack over to Dean, the baby snuffling in his sleep, and snatches the coffee cup from his hand. She makes sure to twist it before taking a drink, lining up with the lipstick mark already there.

“Well back when that whole thing happened like four years back, we found out that angels leave a bit of grace behind.”

No.

“And that handprint was a direct tie from soul to grace.”

No.

“I think he’s reacting to Cas’s grace that remains inside of you. He obviously bonded with Cas before he was even born you remember the park as well as I do. It must calm him down, since Cas isn’t-”

Claire bolts up and Dean sees the coffee cup tip in slow motion, spilling down to the floor with a crash. She’s angry.

She’s so fucking angry it’s like looking in a mirror.

Dean can’t even blame her when she leaves. Walks right out of the kitchen and he can hear the front door slam echoing throughout the entire bunker. He’s just as mad. He wants to rage, he wants to throw the mug against the wall, he wants to scream because Cas left.

He left them with a kid and a piece of himself embedded underneath Dean’s skin that he can never get out. And he left.

He’s gone, turned to ash and dust on the wind and never coming back. No begging and pleading and praying will help them this time. It won’t get him back, it won’t get this piece of Cas under his skin out.

All he gets is the shitty consolation prize of a piece of his best friend's soul under his skin and the grief that keeps him on the teetering edge of insanity. All he gets is his family more broken than before and apparently a connection to a twenty year old who would sooner wish him dead than help her.

All he gets is flashes of something familiar out of the corner of his eye that disappears as soon as he turns and a lingering figure standing behind him in the mirror. Dean has stopped reacting to it. He’s stopped spinning wildly at the sight only to find no one there, he finds he can’t take the disappointment, the heartbreak.

But instead, he chases Claire out the front door, because honestly he can’t take another loss. Not right now.

Jack is still in his arms, working himself up into crying as Claire gets further away.

They catch up to her halfway down the road, her shoulders shaking with the force of holding back her sobs.

“Claire, stop.” Dean calls out and she stops walking but doesn’t turn. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” She nearly shouts it, somehow curling in on herself farther. “It’s not okay. It’s always something new and I can’t.”

“Claire-”

“Don’t look at me.” Claire begs and Dean gets it. He does want anyone to see him cry either so he turns around and presses his lips into Jack’s hair.

“I just-” Claire starts and stops like a car sputtering to life and he can hear her growing more frustrated with every breath. “I keep-” Finally she breaks and lunges forward. Dean thinks she’s going to start hitting him again, like the first day she showed up, but she just rests her forehead between his shoulder blades.

“I keep losing everything.” Claire starts. “I lost my dad for a year and then he comes back and I lose him again and this time it’s my fault.” Dean doesn’t interrupt but he wants to tell her it’s okay. That none of this is her fault. That it was his, and Sam’s, and Cas’s but not hers. Never hers. “My dad wanted to protect me so he let Cas in again and now he’s dead and my mom couldn’t even look at me. She blamed me, I could tell. If I had just said no- but, she left too and now she’s dead. And Randy is dead and now Cas is dead too and I keep losing.” She’s sobbing now, her arms tucked up between her chest and Dean’s back. He’s tempted to turn around, but she doesn’t seem to be done.

“Every time I have Jack it’s like suddenly I’m okay, like I’m whole again. I feel like he’s not actually gone, like I’ll turn around and he’ll be there, the stupid look on his face.” She presses closer, and gently knocks her head into his back over and over again. “And now I know it’s not even because of me, I’m not getting better. It’s just this piece of grace still in me that’s making me think that way and I can’t. I just ca-”

“I know.” Dean finally spins and tucks her under his chin. Jack is squished between them, his eyes glowing gold in the fading light of the sun. They’d have to get back inside soon or he’d get cold. But for now, he just holds the two of them close. She tucks herself impossibly closer, her hands gripping the back of his shirt like a lifeline. “Trust me I know. My dad made a deal to protect me and I still haven’t forgiven him to this day, even though I’ve done the same for Sammy more times than I’d like to admit.”

“That guilt never goes away.” He admits, and presses a kiss to the crown of her head. He wishes Charlie where here. She always seemed to know what to do. “You’ll never forget the people who have sacrificed themselves for you. You’ll love them and hate them and want them back and never want to see them again and it’ll always be confusing.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better.” She laughs and it’s one of the best sounds in the world. It makes the knot in Dean’s chest unclench just a fraction so he can laugh back.

“Yeah I am, because we’ll figure it out together. You have us now and if anyone knows about survivors guilt it me and Sam.” Claire let’s out another laugh and Dean presses another kiss to her head before pulling away. “Come on we have to get back inside before it gets too cold for him.” Claire nods and wipes away the majority of her tear tracks before making the same grabby hands she always does.

Dean slides Jack into her arms and pulls her in for another hug.

“Together?” He makes a sweeping gesture back to the bunker and she snorts.

“Together.”

[incarnateirony]

15.15: The Absent Mother

I’ve had to take a great deal of time to pull my thoughts together on this episode because it was so MUCH. I’ve said in the past that I wasn’t a fan of Davy; he often layered his things very thinly. But today was a masterfully interwoven piece to the point I literally watched another show for an hour while thinking about it, went and took a shower for half an hour to scrub my head clean, and came back to this and STILL sat to write about it.

So if you’re new to my meta, I’m going to break the ice. You need to read my The Generational Family post to dip your toes in. It speaks in plain english things that will be less-plain english in this post.

If you’re less-new to my meta, but often floating in the occult references, I’m going to try to drop links to posts or tag folders of references.

But what a fantastic salute to the Empress this entire episode is.

Now let’s dive in.

It’s no secret my blog bangs on about arcana on the regular. I have spoken of the four colors (represented in the above gif but also frequenting the #hues of involution tag). 

Frankly, I consider it invariable that the brother focused episode will summon forth The Emperor as a key focus. Somewhere in that chaos binder of tags I even predicted that much when I saw the color themes of the episode, but that’s a whole other aside--just something to put a pin in the idea of while I speak of the Empress, and the Generational Family.

(15.16 update: hahahahah)

I’ve gone feral

BACK TO ORIGINAL 15.15 POST

Some time back I had made a post about Castiel’s tie to this path; be that his frequent association with Mary over time (be it storyline parallels in general arc, John and Mary’s meeting, mixtapes or whatever else); that he and Rowena served as mirror and foil from her earliest conception, back when his parental storylines hovered more in regret over Claire; that Amara and her forced bond were associations of the profound bond and many lines directly mirrored while other motions challenged each other (Eg, heart tie, profound bond>mark bond);

I even made a joke at one point that Castiel should wear a pink trenchcoat to match Rowena’s dress.

This, of course, I joked equally was absurd, and that we would probably have to settle for the violet-pink light of Death on both him and Dean in 15.13′s alchemical Marriage of the Minds.

This Marriage of the Minds you’ll find plenty of topic on for my blog, and all in association with the Art arcana, from which the Occultum is drawn to begin with in its concept. This may seem like a long drift aside from the episode itself, but is more a preface of discussion based reminders.

Either way, @meta-mania-spn​ outright trolled in to my trenchcoat joke with this when it was released, saying “here’s your pink trenchcoat.”

And how on point you were!

But I’m going to have to ask fandom to do me a favor before we continue any further in this discussion.

I’m going to need you to stop trying to shove everything in singular boxes applicable to one and only-one storyline. Go back to the Generational Family post. Make sure that’s anchored like, in your subconscious at this point. Know it, feel it. 

Okay, now we can continue.

Hah hah “You’re standing in The Trap zone.” Okay.

So obviously, we have two major story ends going on right now: On the one hand, Sam and Dean go have a discussion to Amara where they plan to lie to her to pull off a stunt against Chuck; on the other hand, we have Castiel and Jack working a case. This seems simple enough in our structure.

Amara’s face of this ends up being entirely reflection. Of her cosmogenic origins (”We are the same.”), We Are Twins (I point to Thoth’s use of the twins in generational storytelling), etc. Of her history with Dean. Of her reasons of bringing Mary back.

Fandom may not like her reasons for bringing Mary back. They may even hate them. And we’ll get back to this later, but this is the sum of this.

On the other hand, Cas and Jack think a demon is involved. They even summon one. Turns out Rowena, in taking over hell, has adopted a new system. No more tricking and damning souls. People end up where they belong. The demon is bored (which has a funny shout out at the end on him trying to find a new purpose--as a cop, which is about six levels of commentary but I digress), but the continued path of Rowena renovating hell from welcome meetings for damned souls to lack of intentionally dragging others down is made clear, while evoked.

I point back to Rowena’s own history: at one point she aspired for power, but after Funeralia, she was stricken with guilt and grief over feeling like she abandoned her son. This is a thread that I have tried to put in videos over time as a still-binding tie; Castiel staring into Belphegor’s husked out eyes at one point, even if it wasn’t really his fault, just as we lost Rowena who went to essentially reclaim her son’s legacy and throne since she couldn’t atone for his loss.

But then we get to the case. It’s a whole long adventure, much of which has some bog-standard casework; we do have Castiel coming to speak that he found new meaning in becoming a parent (rolling back to the parental thread), and there’s a bunch of great imagery we’ll cover below. But before we get to that, let’s focus on the resolution.

It reveals a broken family structure: Mother was sick and felt shoved away, Father Changed Things, and the child ended up on a destructive path about following god.

Now when I talk about not boxing things in on one level, I’m going to break down this family a bit.  We’ll also just totes ignore the Joseph-the-Carpenter tattoo on the pastor that clearly has NOTHING to do with Joseph behind Dean only an episode ago and the entire Emperor theme with the sun behind his head. After the whole Mary behind Cas thing. Nope, nothing to see here. Has NOTHING to do with the generational stuff I’m about to talk below. That’d be silly right?

You also have to think of it this way. If Pastor Joe (yes that’s his FKING name) a parallel, so is his dead wife. There are levels where it was felt she was mocked, and pushed away, which tied into Amara this episode. You have your Chuck and Amara level parallel. However, on the emotional level, the mother figure that Castiel actually ends up representing is also coming due to be absent. And this is about the father's atonement with that just as much as it is with Dean having his dialogue with Amara.

On many levels. Dean and Amara’s dialogue trades of old grudges, old motivations, but also current events and learning to live in the now. 

The child, however, was still stuck in the past--a past the mother who told her to believe in God seemed to want, but the same kind of duty Castiel became aware of needing to change in the past. But she got stuck in it.

While she judged people by their sins, Jack and Castiel end up finding the poor unfortunate man judged by Lust, after an entire aside Castiel had with the pastor about one of the victims struggling as a gay man and what-not; For Reasons(TM). But this is an arcana post, not a “point out the obvious fucking screaming queer text and subtext being put in blinker lights this episode” post, so I’m going to generally show that the misguided and wrathful child thought she was carrying out God’s will.

And then I direct you to my Lust tag.

I have far longer stuff on it, but if you skim, you’ll find the loudest message is about not letting a wrathful god judge or punish you for sins. It involves the Whore of Babylon as a symbol of power riding a beast that represented (Aleister) Crowley; or in this case, Rowena riding Crowley to power, but also birthing and rearranging a new world. I point back to the demon in question, and then I gesture to the stuff about Castiel’s impending storyline overlap.

Did other sins get punished, sure; the one girl got greed, for example. If you check my posts on the Lust topic, there are other forms of debauch actually associated with lust beyond just carnal lovers, but the message about ignoring god’s wrath and making the new world remains in-tact.

This is the kind of wrath enacted by the girl. Who is furious about how the aeon changed. Because you changed everything, dad. They don’t worship God, they worship You.

So here’s the fun question: Is this a child of man furious that man is no longer the true god because Chuck in the corrupted Emperor path has changed the world to his whims, just flipped? That is to say, that they no longer see the Shadow as The One True God? Or is this someone throwing a tantrum on Chuck’s behest that the world of man is being reclaimed? Or is it a generalized moral of all of these things contingent on the choices The Ones -- Sam and Dean -- make moving forward? And what of Jack inevitably feeling like he has to do Dean’s commands, with the task laid out to destroy God as mapped by Death, in the inevitable absence of Castiel?

Now this has drifted a wide-berth from speaking of the Empress herself, which I’ll roll back to. I had mentioned, for example, the pink. So let’s talk about why that is.

The Empress is the Matron. While she goes through many forms, this is sort of the central or individualized one. She represents a fertility in preparing to birth the new world. She holds a blossom, she takes a pose I’m not gonna bother breaking down in this post, and she is crowned in a sphere that is passed to her from the Emperor which she will wear until the next aeon from their union is born.

She is represented by the moon, and though her child will eventually become the new sun it must first be the earth, her emperor is her current sun; the son is the reflection of the father in the eyes of the mother; the Empress Moon lets the Emperor Sun shine on her face and brings life to the earth in their union, and again, I point back to the Marriage of the Minds post.

Now, see that bird in the corner? That’s a pelican. It’s frequently associated in old alchemy as the mother giving her life, as part of the birthing process is also death, for her next generation. I have spoken in the past that Byzantium itself is an ideal example of that. The pelican has intensive alchemical implications, but it was believed she “fed her child from her own heart.”

Okay cool so there’s just a bleeding heart right there while Jack struggles with feeling like he has to deal with this alone, while Castiel tries to insist he doesn’t, with the renegade child taking it upon herself to carry out god’s work and essentially going mad/bad. Castiel not wanting to let that all fall on Jack.

There’s also giant posters about THE WORLD and a mirror shadow Safe Place poster which I’m not even going to talk on much beyond gesturing vaguely at my Shadow tag and Universe tag and move on, but I will take particular note of the hands reaching out to Cas and the world as a vague gesture to once again stick a pin in.

I mean there’s a few other themes I’m going to point out for general notes: hearts everywhere,

Some stuff on Day and Night and hands all over/handholding, which I’ll point to my talk on Absence for false dichotomies

And an admittedly offtopical “lmao fuck this news screen”

But with that, I move forward:

The child here was dressed almost EERILY like Mrs Butters, for the record. And uh-- /wore her cross upside down/

They both kind of represent the same thing of misguided ideals, though Mrs Butters proved able to be reasoned with at the end and went to go return to nature where she belonged, just as man should return to his place some day free of god’s machinations; but she didn’t break her cycle and her fate is to be decided after this by court and what-not, which.. you know, fine.

But that’s a note worth passing re: Mrs Butters, but again, it needs to fall to generational; child vs parent, with Mrs Butters being the lightly lamia-associated elder who lost her sons and went mad trying to protect them according to how she had been commanded, just like this story, too, comes to misguided commands in absence.

Add in of course that Butters pointed out Jack was “too much like his father”. This, of course, was a shot at Lucifer in a way, but the serpent she evoked isn’t truly symbolic of Lucifer in our show, it’s about humanity. And uh, who is synonymous synced to in SPN? Even ignoring the relevance of the serpent to the Emperor? 

Throughout this episode, Jack waltzes around imprinted on habits from Dean, taking on the weight of the world, sacrifice, doing it alone, and inevitably, small bursts of anger.

While... Amara tracks and polka dances sideways across the Mary issue of idealizations vs realities, of the Now being more important than the Then. Fandom gets stuck on how unfair it was to Dean and considers it torture which, human perspective, fair. But Amara isn’t thinking on your human level. In fact she very loudly flags around how Dean (and frankly, the audience) doesn’t properly perceive the scope of what she even is. 

Castiel, driving home, continues to try to be an improved parent. He talks with Jack, and tries to tell him he doesn’t have to do this alone. But Jack is stuck in that rut, and it’s a rut Castiel knows too well. He’s walked these paths and the audience has walked these paths and he can’t let the child handle this alone, though Jack declares it isn’t his choice. Jack has surrendered to what he believes Death commands of him, what the job is.

It’s going to be about choice.

But right now, Jack is too much like his father. And I point back to the Moon, who lets the Sun shine on her face, perceiving the world as a reflection of the Father, of Soul in the eyes of the Mind. This is the path to teach their son to avoid just as much.

Meanwhile, Castiel is punched in the FACE basically by Jack saying not to tell Sam and Dean he’s turning into Soul Bomb Take 2. He doesn’t want to worry them over something he can’t do anything about. Congratulations, Castiel is now living the mirror of Jack knowing the Empty deal and Sam and Dean not being told, and you can SEE the reality of it ALL slam him in the face. Not just because Jack blowing up would negate the point of his sacrifice; I don’t know if that even really plinks his mental armor; but the actual magnitude of that kind of secret.

Burying my clown brain’s fierce desire to talk at length of small details like Cas opting not to wake Dean up in the room, we see a recursion-yet-subversion at the end. 

We cut off, here, abruptly. In context of the episode, we know Castiel has at least learned one lesson and is going to try to tell Dean about his deal. But on some level, this all enmeshes thoroughly to Castiel’s Empty deal. Do I think Cas is going to tell the Empty deal in 16? No, I’m gonna guess on some level Sam gets his hands on it around 17 maybe, or nobody at all finds out--or at least Dean himself doesn’t find out--until 18.

In that time they *still* will not have stopped Chuck, that won’t be until 19. So I really wish this arm flailing about “oh god they’re making it all about Cas saving Jack and then dropping it!” would stop because man guys, I’m tired, I’ve been writing you the roadmap on this for two years and haven’t failed yet, pls listen.

Even after episode 18, Castiel’s role is inevitably going to be to take the burden from Jack. ...And Dean will too, but you won’t really even start to wrap your heads around the how and the why until at *least* 16 covers the Emperor path better in scale of the generational family. That’s going to be a joint thing.

Yes, I’m saying that’s going to be a joint thing after the Empty.

The show has taken a highlighter repeatedly to the fact that Jack was neither ready to rule or remove Chuck and that it was all a bad idea. Like “Then who?!” yes HMMM WHO. 

Who is sitting here following the path of all of these individuals in this very episode? Do I need to gesture people to literal years of Castiel being associated with every one of these women’s central stories in my meta, make everyone read literal compendiums of it to get the where and why, or is it at least enough in the collective subconscious to be recognized?

What is Rowena doing? What is Rowena doing, right now? She unbirthed an entire realm and is restructuring it; where people go only where they deserve to go, where they aren’t as boxed in but certainly aren’t out there being shitheads for the sake of being shitheads. But man, if only there was SOME ONE ELSE lined up on this whole lunar path, somewhere, with these women.

(For more on the blossom, see my Albedo tag)

For the full context and, frankly, mental breakdowns about 15.13 and what all that amounted to, I point you to the tags I linked above in discussion and lead-in to this post, because I’m not going to re-tread that ground right now.

But Castiel’s deal has always been about saving Jack. Castiel has been the Empress all year and before it. He will continue to be the empress, symbolized as feeding her young from her own heart, and--well, like that above gif (and also like 15.09, but with Sam in that generational rotation), receiving the sphere from the Emperor (Dean) and passing it to the new aeon to be reborn. Jack is the new Aeon. the mother will protect this at any cost.

But I don’t know why fandom pole vaults into assuming then that the Emperor suddenly has no place in this fascinatingly interwoven play. They are part of this cooperative birthing process together. Even in and beyond Death. As it is, there’s parts of Jack’s resignation that will inevitably tie to Castiel with Dean in 18.

As always, the case is a warning tale, but just what side of it you take really depends on where the characters choose to step. Is it a warning of man stepping away from god or god changing the rules on man? 

Even Amara’s message is multifaceted: Knowing when to walk away on your own path is not the same as betraying someone. And it’s only going to be by Dean’s manipulation that she would consider it, while he is in fact lying to her; but that’s NOT going to come without a long term price. And frankly, is itself a message for the endgame of this show, with some people thinking taking ones’ own path is tantamount to betrayal. It is not. But what matters it the truth. And the choice. And remembering that we all have a choice.

And what of Cas, after the Empty then?

My soul went to heaven, big surprise.

In order to be in the Occultum, the Occultum must be in you.

To know what he, himself, is also worth, Castiel will have to make that place within himself. And that will also be the place for his child, and his family, and humankind as he has come to adopt as his people.

...But there was a two step phase to that spell and I remind you Rowena wasn’t alone in that image.

The pink of fertile rebirth.

For more on the Empress, click here. 

Anyway

#CASTIELSUTERUS2020