the craziest thing about the mixtape is it sets up a precedent, we had no idea dean gave it to him because it didn't happen onscreen, we only knew about it because we saw castiel trying to return it.
so how many other gifts may dean have given castiel that he just kept?? whose gifting or returning wasn't crucial to the main plot and so we didn't get to see??
how many destiel scenes happened offscreen during all those years?? another example of this is them watching tombstone. so many little throwaway lines or moments here and there that basically confirm that for as much insane couple behavior we saw onscreen, there was a whole other level of offscreen insanity going on
it's always a little funny seeing people watch supernatural for the first time and they get to cas' intro and expect him to be really sweet and then he's like. threatening dean and pushing him up against the wall and chokeslamming demons and he sounds like he smokes a pack a day. and then 3 seasons from his introduction he's practically committing angel genocide. he's our little war criminal your honor <3
Until I Know This Sure Uncertainty, I'll Entertain The Offered Fallacy
Nothing had gone right all day. Dean had let the witch slip through his fingers, and heād had to leave Sam and Cas behind to finish her off while he slogged off to her secret lair to get rid of the source of her powers. It was literal garbage duty, but it still had to be done. It didnāt make it any easier to know that Sam and Cas were in her line of fire while Dean was relatively safe (if appalled by the state of her housekeeping). So of course if something else could go wrong for Dean, it would.
Why was it always witches?
Rating: T
Words: ~12.7k
Relationship: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Tags:Ā Humor, Fluff, Body Swap, Witch Curses, Case Fic, Comedy of Errors, The Scheherazade of Supernatural, yes iām giving my own stupid meta tags to fanfic now
AO3
Theyād split up more than an hour ago. Itās not like theyād really had a better option. The routine hunt had gone sideways the second Sam had opened his big mouth and called it a routine hunt. Itās like they were cursed from the minute theyād left the bunker three days ago.
āFucking witches,ā Dean growled to himself under his breath as he swung his flashlight around the ramshackle one room cabin this particular witch had been holing up in when she wasnāt living in her ritzy townhouse downtown.
Smart witches kept their disgusting rituals separate from their respectable day-to-day lives, and this was nothing if not a smart witch. She kept a successful plastic surgery practice going, after all, with her patients none the wiser that most of her beauty treatments were provided courtesy of dark magic rather than medical skill. Thatās witches for you; beauty on the outside, but rotten to the core underneath.
Dean had already tossed the townhouse, and the only useful thing heād found was the map that had led him to her secret hideaway in the woods. He took a moment to cringe at how someone used to living in that classy place could stand to set foot into this squalid dump.
āFucking witches.ā
The single cramped room was stacked with books, papers, clothing, and ugh. Dean didnāt want to know if some of the stuff heād found in the mess was supposed to be spell ingredients or ancient dinner leftovers. As far as he was concerned, the entire place qualified as a biohazard.
āFuck this,ā he said, kicking a pile of what he hoped was moldy laundry off a grimy mattress in the corner of the room. A rat and a small army of bugs fled as Dean dismantled their current home. āFive more minutes and Iām just gonna salt and burn the whole place.ā
Dean shuddered in disgust and reached down to flip over the dingy mattress. He was spared from having to touch it just yet when his phone rang. One glance down to see it was Sam calling to pester him again, and his momentary reprieve was shattered. He rolled his eyes even though there wasnāt anyone there to see him and answered the call, letting all his frustration and disgust pour down the line.
āWhat is it now? I told you Iād call as soon as I fucking found it. You know this place is a shithole, right? Itās not like she kept the damned thing under glass with a neon sign announcing this is my grimoire hovering over it, right?ā
āOh, umā¦ā a gruff and gravelly voice replied.
Dean felt like kicking himself, because that was not Sammy heād just torn into. Sam wouldāve called him a dick, stated his business, and everything wouldāve been fine. This was definitely not going to be fine.