#(Cas gladly bangs both Winchester brothers)

[qapsiel]

// I'm writing Cas since October 2023 and he STILL doesn't have a girlfriend, where are they, are they hiding 😔

#( ooc ) #(Cas gladly bangs both Winchester brothers) #(but sometimes u want soft bodies that smell nice) #(and not like they were the last 23 hours in a classic car with bags of potato chips)

[mattzerella-sticks]

Supernatural Crack🩹tober

Day 16: Hair Swap

           He returns on a Tuesday. Walking through the door, duffel bag slung over his shoulder and spinning his keys on his fingers. Cas sees Dean at the map table, back facing him. Short hair sticking wildly at all ends, hunched over as he watches a video on Sam’s laptop. Shaking with silent laughter. The sight makes his heart swoon, Cas falling deeper in love despite the previous record set yesterday when Dean called because he texted a frowny face. They spoke well into the evening, until Cas fell asleep.

           Dean has not heard him yet, so Cas uses it to his advantage. Silently descending the stairs, he creeps towards the other man. Runs his fingers through Dean's hair and drops a small kiss along the crown. “Hello, Dean.”

           It wasn’t Dean.

           Sam’s face comes into view, an earbud falling out. “Cas!” he says, slamming the space bar, “What are you doing?”

           Cas pales, blinking. Looking from the younger Winchester’s face, then at his hair. Nothing adds up. “Sam?” he says, “you’re not…”

           “I’m not what?”        

           “You’re not Dean.”

           He snorts, turning fully in his seat. Languidly stretching, boots propped across a nearby, unoccupied chair. “Thought it’d be obvious,” Sam starts, lips pursing, “I am the more attractive brother. For a second I thought you broke and finally admitted your attraction to me, because then I’d have to awkwardly turn you down and hope it wouldn’t ruin yours and Dean's relationship.”

           “I…” There’s a lot he said that Cas needs time digesting. He still hasn’t gotten past the hair. Nor Sam’s lazy smirk that reminded him of someone else. Before he can think more on this, he hears another person approaching. Deep timbre achingly familiar. “Dean? We’re in here – Dean!”

           Dean steps into view, hair pulled tight in a bun. Smiling, like nothing was out of the ordinary. “Cas!” he says, striding forward with a glass of green liquid in hand, “I thought I heard you. Didn’t think you’d be back this soon, though.” He kisses him, free arm looping around Cas’s shoulder.

           Cas hugs reflexively, nose scrunching in distaste. “You reek,” he says. And, as his hand trails across the damp planes of his shirt, Cas adds, “sweaty, too.”

           Chuckling, Dean pulls away. “Yeah, I hadn’t showered yet. I was on my way, too, honest. Don’t like stewing in my yoga sweat for long.” He gestures at his outfit, the loose cotton t-shirt and shorts sticking at odd angles, toes flexing on the hardwood floors. “But I had to make sure someone was doing their research like he promised.” The pointed glare aimed at Sam strikes, the younger boy switching tabs with a rueful pout.

           He hadn’t left them for more than three days. How did this happen? “Are you feeling all right?”

           “Yeah, never better actually,” Dean says, “why do you ask?”

           There were many reasons. Given how ordinary the brothers treated this situation, Cas opted for a simple lie. “It’s just… yoga?”

           “I know,” his hunter sighs, leaning on map table. Tapping on his glass. “I normally do it every other day, but it was raining all morning and I didn’t feel like running in it. But I’m keeping with my juice schedule!”

           “Your… juice schedule?”

           Sam snickers, nudging Dean’s thigh with his elbow. “You know, Cas, it’s the thing Dean drinks that tastes like raw sewage and not… y’know, good?”

           Dean needles him back, flicking his temple. “It is good. Good for you.”

           “Chunky vegetable water isn’t good for me. Burgers are,” Sam stands, collecting his things. He offers a tiny salute in Cas’s direction before swaggering through the exit. “Which I’m gonna go ahead and make. Hopefully regain some of my appetite along the way. So long, bitches!”

           Glaring at his retreated form, Dean sips at his juice. “Jerk.” Then, Dean downs the entire contents while Cas watched helplessly.

           His mind ran through a number of possible scenarios. Dean and Sam were being possessed. Replaced by versions of themselves from a different universe. Under a spell. Touched a cursed object. Were playing an elaborately staged prank on him. The list grew infinitely. Stopping only when Dean snaps his fingers, drawing Cas out of his mind. “Hey,” he says, running a hand down his arm, “you okay?”

           “Fine,” he answers, throat scratchy. He stumbles backwards, giggling. “I… it was a long trip. Guess I’m pretty – I’m tired.”

           “Tired, huh?” Dean asks, grinning. Reading far past the shallow waters of his excuse. “Yeah, I guess I’m pretty beat, too. My body was such a tight knot, like I haven’t stretched in ages.” Or ever, Cas mentally tacks on. “If I wasn’t so filthy I’d collapse onto our bed and…” Dean demonstrates, shimmying onto the table and dropping. Legs helplessly kicking as they dangle over the edge. “Whoops,” he says, “give me a hand?”

           Cas inches close enough he can grab Dean and lift. As he does, the hairtie holding the other man’s hair breaks and a waterfall of hair cascades across his shoulders. He gapes at the magnificence, unsure if Sam’s hair ever looked like that. Or was that long when he left.

           “Dammit,” Dean growls, picking up the former accessory. Frowns at the broken circle, now a sad line. “I’m running out of these… oh well.” He tosses it blindly, tugging Cas into the space between his legs in the same breath. “Cas,” he says, “I thought you said you were tired?”

           Cas winces, pants incredibly tight since the threadbare exercise shorts allow Cas to feel everything. “I did.”

           “I was tired,” Dean sings, looping fingers around Cas’s wrist. Dragging the hand up, guiding it into his hair. “But if you want, I’m game for whatever. Better before I’ve showered than after, right?”

           “Dean, I…” His protests still, Dean’s hand covering his and squeezing. Cas’s fingers threading through soft locks, a newer sensation that makes fireworks explode behind his eyes. He claws at Dean’s hair again, tighter. Those same bursts happen within Dean’s green gaze. “You like this?”

           “Of course I like it, Cas. I love it.”

           “No, no… I mean this.” He pulls Dean’s hair harder, a gasped moan stolen from his lips, “Having your hair pulled.”

           Dean furrows his brow, playfulness waning. “Well, yeah. But it’s not like I’m the only one who gets off on it.”

           “Hmm?”

           “Cas?” Dean asks, pushing his arm away. Frowning, “Are you okay?”

           In that instant, Cas makes a decision. Maybe not the best, but he sees it through. He places both hands on Dean’s scalp and grabs his hair, one after the other, in quick succession. The pupils of Dean’s eyes widen, and his adam’s apple throbs. Better yet, Cas’s leaking dick spasms. He did enjoy this. “Sorry,” Cas smiles, guiding Dean’s face towards his. Their lips hovering nearby, barely touching. “This hunt, it got me all turned around. But I can tell you about it after, okay?”

           “Okay,” Dean kisses him, ankles crossed above his ass. “Less talk about work, more this.”

           “Gladly.”

🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹

           The next day, Cas sits with the Winchesters at the table as he explained the strange circumstances. “Apparently, when touching the finger trap,” he tells them, “it caused your personalities to switch… among other things.”

           Sam sighs, brushing his bangs from his face. Hairstyle returning, the ends curling below Sam’s chin. “Thanks for figuring that out, Cas. Being Dean for two days was more than I’ve ever wanted to be.”

           “I don’t think it was enough,” Dean snorts into his coffee. “Maybe if it was a week, my stunning personality would’ve rubbed off on you. Maybe then you'd be less of a wet blanket all the time.”

           “Really, Dean? You wanted to drink those disgusting juices for a week?” At the mention, Dean’s stomach gurgles loudly. Dean shudders from the memory of happily inhaling those tinctures, cheeks tinted green. “That’s what I thought.”

           “Whatever.” Dean stands, circling the table. Placing a sweet kiss atop Cas’s head. “Just glad you put everything back to normal.” He pulls on the hair tie at his wrist, quickly gathering wavy, chestnut locks and folding them into a messy bun. “I’m making omelets. Any requests – that aren’t vegetables, Sammy.”

           “You're supposed to put vegetables in omelets!”

           “Meats and cheeses only!”

           Cas sighs, sipping at his own coffee while they bickered. Glad that both brothers were themselves again. At least, almost.

           When researching the cause of Sam and Dean’s strange behavior, and after finding the cursed object responsible for it, Cas happened across a spell that could undo the finger trap’s effect. Returning what had been swapped. As he read through the ingredients, he kept flashing back on the wondrous night Dean and he shared together. The feel of his fingers through that long hair. Cas would miss it when Dean’s old hairstyle returned.

           But, hidden within the margins, Cas found a scrawled note from Men of Letters past. Deciphering that faded chicken scratch, the writer added extra instructions. Variations of this spell that could change its effects. In the example given, a beauty mark stolen could be duplicated and shared between the donor and recipient. Cas wondered if it would apply elsewhere.

           “Cas?” Dean calls, bundle of hair bouncing while he cooked. Dean swaying along with an imaginary song. “Cas, what do you want in your omelet?”

           He stood, drifting closer. Wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and burying his nose in his hair. “I’ll have what you’ll have.”

           “Two kitchen sinks then,” Dean grins, nipping at Cas’s lips. He shoots a stale glare over Cas’s shoulder, “and one pussy vegetarian.”

           “Dean,” Cas nuzzles his cheek, laughing, “watch it. If you're not careful, some of your hair might fall in.”

           Sighing, Dean focuses on his cooking. Extra cautious with how his bun flopped around. “You know,” he whispers, “sometimes I think I might be better off with a buzzcut...”

           “Really?” Cas digs his fingers into Dean’s hairline, scraping it. Catching loose strands in his efforts. “You think so?”

           Chuckling, Dean melts into Cas’s embrace. “Nah… short hair’s lame, and so not me.”

           “You’re absolutely right.”

(Day 15 - Impala Alternate Paint Job)

#supernatural #spn #cracktober #profoundnet #destiel #deancas #dean winchester #long hair dean winchester #sam winchester #short hair sam winchester #castiel #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic

[ssa-montgomery]

War Of Hearts (Dean x Cas)

Word Count: 2085

Summary: Dean Winchester is set to marry Lydia Branwell to return honour to the family name but his feelings seem to get in the way. Especially when Castiel crashes the wedding.

Characters: Dean x Cas, Sam, Lydia, Charlie, Mary, John

Warnings: Fluff, Arranged marriage

A/N: Okay so as I'm sure anyone who watches Shadowhunters knows, this fic is the scene from Shadowhunters where Magnus crashes Alec's wedding but with Destiel xD I used this as a way to get around my writer's block and actually write something. So to anyone who has seen Shadowhunters I hope this turned out like the scene and to anyone who hasn't I hope you enjoy this and I highly recommend you go check out the actual scene! Also, the lyrics at the beginning and end are from War Of Hearts which is the song that plays in the scene.

Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open!

I can't help but love you

Even though I try not to

I can't help but love you

I know that I'd die without you

John and Mary made their way up aisle towards Dean, their arms linked as they walked. Dean swallowed hard afraid of the conversation ahead. Afraid that his expression would give away the doubt and nerves that were making him feel sick. After all, they were the reason he was here, standing in a church about to marry a woman he barely even knew all just to save the family name after they tarnished it. In the end, family was everything to Dean and this was the only way to fix things now.

"When you first proposed to Lydia I'll admit I was weary." Mary started as they came to a stop in front of Dean. "But now, you've made me so proud." She whispered running her hands over the front of Dean's white suit, smoothing out the small lines in the fabric.

Dean smiled at her a genuine smile but a quick one. Mary proudly beamed back at him her hand gently touching his cheek for a second before she turned to take her seat at the front of the church. Once Mary had sat down John moved forward silently shaking Dean's hand and offered a smile to Sam taking his own seat.

"Alright, you ready for this?" Sam asked.

Dean exhaled as he turned to face Sam fidgeting with the cuffs of his suit. This was the right thing to do, he knew it was. Lydia was an amazing woman. She was beautiful, smart, strong and one of the best Shadowhunters Dean knew. But no matter how many times Dean told himself that there was still a pit in his stomach like something was missing. Or someone.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

Sam reached forward and pulled at the lapels of Deans suit straightening them once again. "Good."

"I'm glad you're here with me," Dean admitted. If he didn't have his brother at his side, he wouldn't be able to do this.

"Wouldn't be anywhere else," Sam assured his hitting his shoulder.

They both turned around stepping up onto the altar, Sam stood behind Dean watching over his shoulder still close enough that Dean could tell he was there. Everyone else in the church started to take their seats filling up the room. The sea of faces staring back up at him started to make him even more nervous than before. He hadn't realised quite how many people had been invited until now. The whole institute was there, and more.

The echoing bang of Brother Jeremiah's staff hitting the alter floor made the chatter of the room fall into silence.

"Attention. The ceremony is about to commence." He announced.

Everyone turned to watch the archway at the back of the church as Charlie walked in, a small silver pillow with a stele and metal bracelet laying on top of it in hand. She was smiling brightly as she made her way up the aisle before taking her place opposite Sam. Dean knew it was fake. Charlie had disapproved of the wedding since Dean told her that he had proposed to Lydia. She had quickly snapped back with "It's your life to ruin." Dean hadn't listened to her, telling himself she was younger and just didn't understand but maybe she did. Maybe it was Dean that hadn't understood what he was doing.

Next to enter was Lydia. Dean could feel his chest tighten when she walked around the corner. Dean might not have actually loved her but he had to admit that she looked stunning. Her blonde hair had been braided and hung down over her shoulder where her runes were still visible above the strapless dress. The corset of the dress was decorated with different silver and gold sequins and gems, the bouquet of red roses in her hand stood out even more in front of the white dress.

She smiled up at Dean before she started to walk forward. A wave of whispers spread across the room as she walked, everyone in awe of how beautiful she looked. Once she reached the alter Dean held his hand out for her and she gladly took it, he helped her up letting her take her place opposite him.

Dean noticed the sad look in Charlie's eyes as she held up the small pillow letting Lydia take the bracelet. Dean pulled his sleeve back allowing her to slip it on. Everything seemed so real now as the cold metal met his skin. He could still hear the words that had been spoken to him a few days before. "You'll be lonely all your life, and so will she. Neither of you deserve it. And I don't either." Was he making a mistake doing this? And more importantly, if he was, was it too late to run? No. He couldn't think like that. He shook away the thought and smiled back at Lydia before he turned to Sam who was holding a golden pillow that matched Charlies.

Dean picked up the necklace that lay next to the stele. Lydia had turned her back to Dean letting him place the necklace around her neck. She brought her hand up letting her fingers gently touch it. It matched her dress, a white base covered in tiny diamonds.

Lydia smiled at Charlie before turning back to face Dean. Charlie smiled back, but it was weak and faded quickly. She personally had nothing against Lydia, she had given her no reason to dislike her but Charlie hated standing by watching Dean throw his life away.

"It is time for Dean Winchester and Lydia Branwell to mark each other with the Wedded Union rune." Jeremiah gestured to the large crystal that sat in the middle of the altar. It had a misty white light that radiated from it. "A rune on the hand, a rune on the heart. A union is born."

He touched his staff off the crystal making it glow even brighter, the rune appearing on it as the mist disappeared. Lydia took the stele off Charlie touching it against the crystal, a puff of mist following it as she pulled it away. Dean held his hand out to her his wrist exposed for the rune. Lydia gently wrapped her fingers around his wrist lowering the stele to his skin.

Just before it touched his skin the sound of the heavy doors at the back of the church opening made Lydia pull away. A wave of relief came over Dean. Everyone in the church exchanged confused looks as they turned to watch the arch waiting to see who would enter.

Cas rounded the corner his hand still tugging at his shirt. As soon as he saw Dean he froze, his hand falling to his side. Dean had been talking about the wedding for what had felt like forever to Cas but now, seeing him standing on the altar his hand in Lydia's with the stele so close to his skin everything suddenly felt so much more real. Cas' eyes met Dean's who was now staring right back at him. Dean could feel his heart hammering against his ribs. The room felt like it had gotten ten times hotter and Dean's collar felt like it was choking him.

"What's that Warlock doing here?" Mary hissed turning around in her seat. Her eyes quickly went to Dean a sudden realization hit her when she saw the way Dean was staring back, the breath he sucked in as he stood there frozen.

Charlie let out a sigh of relief, her face softened and her eyes lit up for the first time since she took her place on the altar.

"Charlie, did Dean invite Cas?" Sam whispered.

"I did." Charlie chuckled. "But I didn't think he'd show."

Lydia looked between Dean and Cas, it was like to them there was no one else in the room. Like as soon as Cas walked in, everything around them had melted away. Lydia knew, she always had. The way Dean had looked at Cas, how flustered he had gotten when she mentioned him coming to the institute, the "He's quite magical" he had let slip before trying to correct him. Part of her knew this would happen.

Mary harshly pushed herself out of her seat tearing her eyes away from Dean as she marched towards Cas.

"Castiel, leave this wedding now." She demanded.

"Mary, this is between me and your son. I'll leave if he asks me to." Cas held up his hand quickly dismissing Mary as he walked past her.

Cas stayed silent coming to a stop in the middle of the aisle. He held eye contact with Dean who tried to swallow the lump that had now formed in his throat. He didn't have to say anything. Dean already knew everything he wanted to say. If it was going to happen it had to be Dean's choice, Cas knew he couldn't talk him out of it he had already tried he just had to wait.

"Are you gonna be okay buddy?" Sam asked.

Dean let out a shaky breath that had been trapped in his throat his eyes still on Cas. He couldn't get his mind to stop racing long enough to answer. Was he going to be okay? He didn't know how to answer that.

"Dean?" Lydia called warmly leaning forward to try to grab his attention.

Dean finally managed to pull his eyes away from Cas to turn and look at Lydia who was beaming up at him.

"Hey." She giggled.

Dean tried to speak but the lump in his throat seemed to block the words, his breath came out heavy as he tried to clear his throat.

"I-I can't breath."

"I know. It's okay." Lydia assured him. The softness of her voice made Dean feel guilty. This wasn't just his wedding it was hers too.

"I can't do this," Dean said finally making up his mind. "I thought we were doing the right thing, but this isn't it."

"You don't have to explain."

"Lydia I'm sorry." He was genuinely sorry. He should have known from the beginning this wasn't what he wanted but now he had trailed Lydia along.

"Hey, you deserve to be happy." Lydia brought her hand up to cup his cheek running her thumb along his jaw. "Okay? I'll be fine."

Dean turned away from her, this time fully facing out towards the crowd that was watching his every move. His eyes flickered between the people in front of him, his family, his friends, everyone he cared about. He stood there silently for a moment, this was it, if he stepped down off the altar nothing would be the same again. Taking a deep breath he stepped forward walking down off the altar. This was what he wanted.

Mary once again moved forward quickly walking towards her son.

"Dean, what are you doing?" She questioned.

"Enough." Dean turned his head towards her as he spoke but his eyes remained focused on Cas.

Cas still hadn't moved, letting Dean come to him. As soon as Dean was close enough he reached out grabbing Cas by the lapels of his black suit jacket. He pulled him close to his chest pressing his lips to Cas'. The adrenaline high of it made him feel almost drunk, his head was spinning and he felt like if he let go of Cas he would collapse. Dean melted into the warm kiss, letting himself lean forward into it. The feeling of Cas' soft lips made his heart race even more than before. Cas chased his lips when Dean pulled away from the kiss. Deans eyes travelled all over Cas' face taking in every single detail. He quickly pulled him back in again for another kiss when Cas' eyes met his.

Sam and Charlie exchange a look both letting out a laugh as a wave of happiness and pride washed over them. John was now standing next to Mary, both with a disapproving look as they watched what was happening in front of them.

"You never ceases to amaze me, Dean." Cas smiled once Dean finally let him go.

"What did I just do?" Dean gasped looking around the at the crowd in the church.

I can't help but be wrong in the dark

'Cause I'm overcome in this war of hearts

I can't help but want oceans to part

'Cause I'm overcome in this war of hearts

#supernatural #supernatural family #supernatural fandom #spn #spn family #spn fandom #spnfamily #supernatural fanfiction #destiel #supernatural fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural one shot #dean winchester #castiel #destiel fandom #spn fanfiction #spn one shot #dean x castiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #destiel fic

[illuminating-dragons]

Our Hearts’ Desires

Summary:  Dean Winchester will never fall in love. Castiel will never feel desire. Profound bonds, after all, tie people together in many different ways, and no one needs to be lonely. Written for the Asexual Supernatural Mini Bang 2016-17.

Word Count: 5,136 

Link to art by Cenedrariva 

Read it on AO3

           Dean was seventeen the first time he realized he didn't want to be in love.

           They were hanging out at Bobby's for a few weeks that summer. Dean had broken his leg on a hunt and their dad had left them with the old hunter, muttering to himself about demons. Sammy was finally hitting a growth spurt and his legs and arms were almost as sore as Dean's. Bobby was endlessly patient with the two of them, finding old books for Sam to translate that had nothing to do with monsters, and he taught Dean how to win in poker.

           One day, however, Bobby lost patience with them both after they wouldn't quit bickering. After giving them thirty bucks, he told them to get out and give him an hour's peace. Dean's leg still wasn't ready for driving or biking, but the nearest diner wasn't far, and he'd walked further before with worse injuries.

           They were halfway down the driveway when Sam realized he'd forgotten his book. Seeing the nervousness in his little brother's eyes—Sam didn't like it when adults yelled—Dean turned around and went back for it. When he got in the house, though, he heard sobbing.

           Carefully, Dean crept closer to the kitchen. Bobby was sitting at the table, tears dripping down his face, a woman's picture in his hand.

           Dean meant to back out, grab Sam's coat, and give Bobby two hours, three hours—hell, whatever he needed, but he tripped trying to turn around. Bobby heard him. Dean flinched, expecting anger, but instead Bobby just looked guilty.

           "Sorry Dean," he said. "I didn't even think—you can't walk all that way on your leg."

           I can, Dean wanted to say. I'll leave you alone.

           What came out instead was, "Do you want us to stay?"

           They called Sam back in and Bobby took out the supplies for making peach cobbler, and as they made it together, he told them about Karen. Sam was teary-eyed from the story, and Dean might have squeezed out a tear or two, but really he felt more horrified than sad. Bobby was the kindest man he'd ever met, always helping anyone who needed it, whether they asked or not.

           But the memory of being in love, of losing that love, had made him forget Dean's leg.

           And Bobby knew what killed his wife; he'd killed it, too. He wasn't like Dad, still chasing a supernatural arsonist. He'd been able to make peace, but he still made peach cobbler and cried every summer.

           Dean decided right then and there that he was going to be perfectly fine without love.

           It wasn't worth it.

           At first he thought it was just that fear of pain.

           That was as good excuse as any. They lived dangerous lives, and hell, when Sammy left, Dean was pretty sure he didn't want to love anyone ever again, in any way. On his own for the first time, making careful, quiet checkups to Stanford campus whenever he could risk it, Dean soothed his loneliness with alcohol and one night stands.

           Then something changed.

           Sam called out of the blue, and they talked. Only for a few minutes, but Sam was bubbling over about a girl, Jess. How pretty she was, and how he loved picking out flowers for her and going on picnics. Dean said all the right things (at least, he hoped), but inside he was thinking, "glad I don't have to do that."

           What was the point of bringing flowers? Or picnics?

           Things got worse.

           Dean started realizing he wanted family, sure, but love? It wasn’t that it hurt too much. Burning Dad’s body, feeling Sammy shaking beside him, hurt. Sammy lying dead hurt like a bitch.

           Hell hurt.

           No, it wasn’t fear of pain or getting hurt that made him put love aside. There was something else. He didn’t want it at all.

           Dean struggled against that idea. He was fucking human, wasn’t he? And sex was awesome, and being close to people was great, even if so often it ended badly. But romance…

           He couldn’t do it.

           He tried with Lisa, tried to remember flowers and compliments…he even tried love notes. And he did care for her a lot, and Ben, and they were trying so hard to be a family…but he couldn’t do romance.

           He just wasn’t interested.

           Later Dean thought—well, he thought maybe it was because he was gay.

           Or bi, maybe. Whatever it was, he was definitely attracted to men.

           Especially Cas. But the angel was…well, an angel. He was special, and he definitely couldn’t be Dean’s first try. If he was wrong, if he fucked up the first time, it wasn’t going to be with Cas.

           Not like Cas would want him anyways.

           So Dean bought lube for the first time and headed off to a gay bar without telling Sam or Cas. Lisa was long gone, and he pretended not to notice the other guy’s wedding ring.

           And the sex was incredible—scarier than usual, a heart stopping moment when Dean asked if he could top and the other guy hesitated, panicking when the guy held onto him more strongly than any woman—powerful, and Dean knew for sure this was what he wanted. But there was still no urge to stay, to hold on, to say poetry.

           Well, it was just a one night stand.

           Dean couldn’t bear to tell Cas, and then Cas was gone, disappeared into the lake. He kept his trench coat, because Cas would want it back someday, when the Leviathans were gone—because things would be back to normal. Cas couldn’t stay gone.

           And he did come back, just as Dean was losing Sam. And Cas gave him back his brother, but the price of saving Sam meant Cas was gone again.

           Purgatory came next, a crystal-sharp place of fear and fighting. But there were quiet nights too, nights when either Benny or Cas kept watch while the other curled up against Dean. Dean would have objected, but he was too cold and they had no blankets. And Benny’s arms were strong and sure, and Cas’ hold was so familiar, and he was able to sleep.

           One night Cas walked further away, and Benny asked him a question.

           “Dean, you ever been in Love?”

           Dean could hear the capital L, could tell that Benny meant something special. He was too tired to lie.

           “No,” he said honestly. “I never have.”

           To his surprise, the vampire nodded. “Thought not.”

           “Why?”

           “Because you love that angel.”

           Dean looked up at him, utterly betrayed, but Benny tilted his head. Cas was standing far away, and Benny was talking right in Dean’s ear as he held him.

           “I’ve seen people like you before. My mother was like that—she loved my daddy, but she wasn’t in Love. He didn’t really mind.”

           “What’s wrong with me?”

           If anyone had told Dean’s past-self that he would ask that question, ever, he would have socked them.

           “There ain’t anything wrong with you, brother,” Benny said firmly. “You just don’t Love.”

           “People are supposed to do that.”

           “Maybe not everybody.”

           And for one short, breathless, painless moment, Dean let himself imagine that.

           Then Benny was gone. Dean had no one to convince him he was wrong.

           Cas deserved Love. He couldn’t give it.

           So he could never tell Cas that he loved him with everything he had.

           Cas had always believed that Dean was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

           The first time he saw him wasn’t in Hell, the way most people assumed. Dean certainly assumed that. No, it was the week before he’d died, when Sam lay in an exhausted sleep and Dean prayed for the first time.

           “If anyone’s listening…I know I don’t deserve it. But I…I’m scared. I don’t want to go to Hell. And most of all I don’t want Sammy to break like I did. Can you save him, at least?”

           There were angels who laughed at that prayer. Michael was one of them; the Sword had no idea that he would one day kill the brother he prayed for now. But Castiel (for he was only Castiel then) hadn’t laughed. Instead, he pitied the man, whose fear came from love. All his actions came from love, when you looked closely. And late that night, when no one in his garrison was watching, Castiel studied the soul of the Righteous Man as he lay dreaming. He had told himself it was so he would recognize him perfectly in Hell, so that not a moment would be lost.

           And four months later, wings singed and ears ringing with the cries of the damned, he had known Dean right away. Dean’s soul had been flayed, and hellfire curled deep within, but still it shined, fierce and bright.

           Castiel had picked him up, marvelling at his radiance, and flew back to Earth, shielding the bright soul from Hell, from the eyes of the other angels…even from himself.

           Years later, he wondered if he’d known, even back then. Known that he would lose everything for this man, and do it gladly.

           Whenever Dean stood before him, Cas felt awe, admiration, and respect—just as he felt for Anna, for Balthazar (and the same piercing regret). He felt a deep sense of belonging, too—just as he did with Sam and Claire, Jody and Alex (the same wistful feeling for a home he’d never really had).

           And then there was something else.

           He hadn’t been lying when he said he and Dean shared a more profound bond. He knew Sam and the rest of their little band spoke about it behind their backs, and he knew part of it was true. The love he felt for Dean was different; living without him wasn’t an option. He wanted to see the hunter smiling, see his insecurities fall away, see him understand once and for all how bright— how beautiful he was.

           Humans called that being in love. And maybe it was.

           So when Cas became human, he expected the way he looked at Dean to change.

           When he woke from the death dealt by the reaper and stared at Dean’s face, saw his body without the light of his soul, Cas’ feelings certainly had changed. The intensity of it took his breath away, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure Dean would hear. Dean was beautiful.

           And Cas waited for desire to hit.

           Balthazar had tried to explain, once, what desire felt like (his brother had always been close to humanity). If he’d ever thought about it (lies: he’d thought about it from the moment he’d started to fall the first time), Cas would have assumed that desire for Dean would come with humanity.

           But it never did.

           Oh, Dean was still beautiful, even when he became demonic; beautiful and terrifying. But Cas still felt no urge to tear his clothes off, to touch him wherever he wanted…although it wasn’t an unpleasant idea, that kind of intimacy. It was Dean, and he loved him. He would give that if he wanted it, even though he wasn’t enthusiastic about the process.

           But Dean didn’t seem to want it. Didn’t seem to want him at all.

            Sam, of course, was trying to help. Cas couldn’t find the heart to stop him, couldn’t find the words to explain the delicate balance he and Dean were stranded on. All Sam could see were his brother and his friend, who needed to get over their own nonsense. And Sam would fix them, because it was becoming pretty clear he couldn’t be happy, himself. The least he could do was make sure Dean and Cas were going to be.

           Cas appreciated his efforts at first, but he could see the pain Dean tried to hide as they were left alone together again and again. Cas had his Grace now, and could see Dean’s soul dim with unhappiness. He was struggling against the bond they shared, and Cas felt his misery as his own.

           So he went to talk to Sam.

           At first Sam didn’t understand. He explained that of course he didn’t care if Dean liked men, and he knew that Cas and Dean had something special, and he wanted to make absolutely clear that he approved of the relationship.

           “I don’t think you understand how I feel for your brother,” Cas replied. “I love him, of course I do, and it is different from what I feel for you.”

           “Thank goodness,” Sam joked. “No offence.”

           “None taken,” Cas replied with a hesitant smile. Because Sam was important too, and he had to understand that. The man had suffered so deeply and Cas ached to soothe that pain properly, but it wasn’t his wound to heal. Someone else would help Sam, someday, and Cas had a suspicion it was a woman who listened better than most who could hear.

           But right now it was time to help Dean.

           “I love your brother, but I do not desire him.”

           Sam raised his eyebrows. “Is it because you’re an angel?”

           “I thought so at first,” Cas answered. “But then…I was human, and though my feelings became more intense, there was still no desire. I felt none for the reaper woman either; I did that because she wanted it, and I craved some kind of intimacy. But not…not that kind.”

           Sam’s brow furrowed. “Are you asexual?”

           “I am not a worm, Sam.”

           Sam didn’t smile. He pulled his laptop towards him and typed in the word, one Cas had never heard applied to human beings.

           He read over Sam’s shoulder as he scrolled through the website, and a deep sense of relief came over him. He could explain himself now. It wasn’t because he was an angel. This was something Dean could understand.

           There was nothing broken about his love.

           “A buddy of mine was ace in college,” Sam said quietly. “I’m sorry, I never thought…he never looked at anyone, boy or girl. I thought that’s what it meant.”

           Cas was about to reply, but he saw a word. Reaching over Sam, he clicked on another link. And drew in an unnecessary breath.

           “Sam…”

           Sam looked and his face went gray. “Oh God…Dean.”

           It was a story about a girl who felt desire, but felt no love. She was sharing her story here to let people know that it wasn’t just desire that people didn’t experience sometimes. “I want to have sex, but I’d rather chew tinfoil than go on a date. Am I going to be alone forever?”

           Cas closed his eyes, a thousand things making sense for the first time.

           “What have I done?” Sam whispered. “I must have made him feel…”

           “You didn’t know, Sam,” Cas explained gently. He put a hand on the hunter’s right shoulder. “Brother, you didn’t know.”

           “How could he forgive me?”

           “Tell him you love him anyways. You do, don’t you?”

           “Of course!”

           “Then just be his brother, and let him have some time to adjust.” Cas stepped away.

           “Where are you going?”

           “To speak to Dean. I would appreciate it if you gave us some time, Sam. Perhaps you could go for a drive?”

           “I’ll get groceries,” Sam agreed, standing up. “And Cas…I love you too, no matter what.”

           Cas swallowed, shocked by the depth of his relief. “Thank you, Sam.” He stayed still as Sam put an arm briefly around his shoulders, then walked hurriedly towards the garage. Once he heard the Impala leave the Bunker, he set off in search of Dean.

           Dean, it turned out, was in the kitchen, cleaning up. Cas smiled; Dean had made burgers. They were still his favourite molecules.

           “Hey, Cas.” Dean looked up from the counter. “You need something?”

           Cas wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. It wasn’t really how he wanted to begin. As he hesitated, Dean’s face fell.

           “What’s wrong,?” he asked urgently. “Did you have a fight with Sam?”

           “No,” Cas said quickly. “Sam and I had a discussion, and I asked him to go get groceries.”

           Dean dropped the cloth he was holding. “And…uh…what were you talking about?” The stricken— terrified look in his eyes broke Cas’ heart.

           “Dean,” he said as gently as he could, “it’s nothing bad.”

           Dean swallowed hard, picked up the cloth again. “Just get it over with, Cas.”

           Cas considered starting small, explaining the concepts he and Sam had researched, reassuring Dean at every step that of course, words were just words and they didn’t always convey feeling very well—he hadn’t found a language that did his feelings justice—and he could leave it there, leave the words for Dean to think about and decide what to do.

           But Dean was trembling, and Cas wasn’t sure if it was because he was afraid Cas was rejecting him, or if he was afraid Cas loved him too much. Too differently.

           So he walked towards Dean instead, and before Dean could protest, placed his hand on his left shoulder. The physical handprint had faded long ago, but Cas could still feel his mark. The print was upside down, and Cas felt like he was touching his past self, who’d believed happiness came from serving the Word. You never knew, Cas thought. You never knew how miserable you were.

           Shaking himself out of the past, Cas touched Dean’s face with his free hand. “I love you.”

           Dean shook his head, tried to step away, but Cas wouldn’t let him. “You don’t,” he objected. “You can’t. And if you—if you do—I don’t love you that way.”

           “But you do love me,” Cas answered.

           Dean jerked away at that, stronger than Cas could hold. “Damn it, Cas, I—” His voice broke. “I can’t—”

           “Dean, do you love me?”

           Dean bowed his head.

           “Dean?”

           “Yes!” Dean burst out. “Yes, I do, but I—I’m not in Love with you.”

           Cas heard the difference, knew what Dean meant, but .the opportunity for him to explain had passed. As much as it killed him to watch Dean struggle, he had to let him get it out.

           “I—I don’t mean that you’re my friend, or that you’re my brother.” Dean’s head was still bowed. “It’s different than that. But I don’t know how to be in Love. I don’t want to, either. And you deserve better than that. You deserve to have someone who can give you everything.”

           “I don’t want everything,” Cas answered, his voice as gentle as he could make it. “I want you.”

           Dean shook his head. “You don’t know that. You don’t—there’s something wrong with me—”

           “There is nothing wrong with you,” Cas said sternly. He let a bit of his True Voice leak in, saw Dean flinch in surprise. “You are Dean, my Dean, and I love you. I want to be with you.”

           Dean was shaking all over now. Cas drew him close carefully, putting his arms around him tenderly.

           “What do you want from me?” Dean rasped.

           “I told you. I want to be with you.” Cas held him closer. “I want to stay with you and love you. I want you to come to me with everything and trust me to take care of you. And if you want to be physical, I am willing to be.”

           Cautiously, Dean put his hands up on Cas’ shoulders. “But what about…all the other stuff? Dates? Flowers? Being in Love?”

           “I am perhaps in Love with you,” Cas admitted, “but as for the general trappings of romance…they are unnecessary. I just want to spend time with you. Perhaps we could go for a drive and have burgers?”

           Dean choked on a laugh that was almost a sob. “I…I can do that, angel.” He looked hesitantly into Cas’ eyes. “I…I want you. Like, in my bed. Is that okay?”

           “I find you beautiful, dearest,” Cas said. “I do not desire you the way you do me, but I am willing and able to lay with you if you wish it.”

           “I don’t—I’m not going to make you do something you don’t want to do, if you’re not making me!”

           “I am not unwilling,” Cas corrected him. “It’s just not something I need to do. I don’t feel a need to have sex with you. I feel a need for you.”

           Dean swallowed hard. “I…it’d be nice to have sex with you. When you want to.”

           “We can do that,” Cas answered. He hesitated. “Dean…will you have me?”

           “You’re asking me?” Dean’s eyes were bright with tears. “Cas, I never thought I’d…I’d be enough for you.” He nodded. “Yes, yes, I’ll have you. And you can have me.”

           Cas rested his forehead against Dean’s. “I will be good to you, dearest. I promise.” He paused. “May I kiss you?”

           Dean kissed him in response, clinging to him. It was a simple, chaste kiss, and Cas deepened it carefully, gauging Dean’s reaction. Dean shuddered against him, and Cas broke the kiss, drew away long enough to let Dean breathe, gazing into green eyes.

           “I love you, Dean.”

           “I love you Cas.” Dean buried his face in Cas’ shoulder, and Cas held him close.

           “It’s alright Dean. You’re enough.”

          It took weeks for Dean to believe Cas wasn’t going to leave.

           But the angel was in his bed every night, stayed with them on hunts, moved into the Bunker. He helped Sam with research, made sure Dean ate, and listened patiently to Dean ramble while he cooked.

           Sam stopped making jokes. He’d cornered Dean in the hall one morning, holding him tightly, whispering “I’m so sorry” over and over again. He didn’t say what he was apologizing for; he might not have had the words. But he sent Dean a link to a site that answered a lot of questions, and he lay in the other bed when they had to share a room, talking to them normally.

           Like it was normal for two grown men to lie together in bed fully clothed, holding each other.

           Oh, they fucked once in a while, and it was the best sex Dean had ever had, mostly because it only happened when they both needed more than just cuddling, needed to touch bare skin, when he needed to feel Cas move inside him, to hold on as tight as he could and hear Cas whisper words of praise and devotion.

           But never Love. Not the Love that Bobby had with Karen, or Jody with Donna.

          Dean didn’t want that. He wanted Cas’ love, his tender care, his strong arms, his promises. The wonder in his eyes when he looked at Dean, the steady grip of his hands when Dean was injured.

          And Cas gave it without condition.

           As the years went on people started to ask questions. They asked whether they were together (they went with ‘yes’ for that one), how long they’d been together (Dean said from the barn, Cas argued it was from Hell), and who topped (Sam glared away anyone who asked that question).

           Then people started asking about marriage.

           Dean actually thought about it. It was legal now, for one thing, and he was willing to tie himself to Cas that way. Having Cas as his husband…that would be nice.

           Cas was reluctant when Dean brought it up. Surprised (and a little worried), Dean asked why.

            “I was thinking of something else,” Cas clarified.

           “Like what?”

           It took five solid minutes of Dean pressing for Cas to tell him about bonding, something angels did with their mates, romantic or otherwise. It took five seconds for Dean to say yes.

           “I don’t know if it will work with you,” Cas admitted. “It’s only been done once with a human, and it nearly killed them when they…”

           “When they what?”

           “When they grew tired of the angel,” Cas said, eyes lowered.

           That infuriated Dean so much it took him a long moment to get his anger under control. To see that though Cas gave him so much care, he didn’t truly believe it was reciprocated.

           He got down on one knee (he used to hate that gesture so much) and asked Cas to bond with him.

           Cas said yes, though Dean could tell he was still worried.

           It took preparation and isolation. Sam offered to leave the Bunker, but Cas took Dean far into the woods, far away from people, just in case he got it wrong.

           He didn’t.

           Dean never found words to describe what being bound to Cas felt like. There was light, and shock and awe, glimpsing Cas’ true form and being so beyond worshipping, feeling Cas touch every last inch of him, deep into his soul, something that would have been wrong with anyone else…

           That was his best effort. In reality, it was so much more.

           They woke two days later, and when Dean looked at Cas his partner looked more at peace, more happy than Dean had ever seen him. And he knew why; he could feel Cas’ delight at Dean’s reciprocation of devotion, could sense the new-found ease.

           He also sensed Cas’ joy when they returned home to Sam eating breakfast with a beaming Eileen Leahy on his lap, wearing one of his T-shirts and signing to him. Sam was watching intently, his arm around her waist and a huge, warm smile on his face.

           Dean was positive Cas could feel his glee as he cleared his throat loudly, making his baby brother jump and nearly knock Eileen off his knee, catching her at the last second. And the warmth, a moment later, when Eileen looked at them for a second, flipped them off, and kissed Sam deeply, disregarding his blush.

           Over the next few weeks, Dean got used to feeling Cas’ emotions, to realizing it was even harder to hide his worries from his boyfriend. He also got used to Sam smiling and happy, got used to having Eileen in the Bunker, to learning sign language.

           One day he and Eileen were making dinner for their men as they went for groceries.

           Who is Cas? Eileen signed. To you?

           Dean still didn’t know much sign language, but he knew enough to form the most important words, one hand bearing a new ring (Cas had insisted).

           He is mine. I am his.

           Eileen nodded, like it explained everything, and they went back to bickering about using nutmeg or tarragon.

           Sam’s room slowly became Sam and Eileen’s room, and Dean and Cas did their best to support Sam as he tried to sort through how he felt about that. Most of his concerns—his past, their future, all the loves he’d lost, the love he longed to give—were worthy of some discussion.

           Then Sam went stupid.

           “Won’t we be bothering you two? I know you’re not really into that kind of relationship.”

           That prompted a wrestling match which ended with Cas kneeling on Sam’s arms and Dean tickling the living crap out of him until he promised to stop being an idiot.

           “The idea,” Dean sniffed. “You actually think I’d be upset about you being happy the way you want to be? You’d better make up for that, little brother.”

           And Sam did, eighteen months later, when Dean and Cas stood for him as his best men. He took his bride to the beach in the Bahamas, and Dean and Cas had the Bunker to themselves. They drank too much, watched every bad movie they could stomach on Netflix, and fell asleep in each other’s arms. They didn’t have sex anymore; the bond had taken away Dean’s need for that almost entirely (barring a few showers every now and then). All he needed was Cas.

           Luckily for him, he was all Cas needed too.

Epilogue

           Dean blinked awake, saw how dark it was, and immediately buried his face into the pillow.

           Cas’ amusement flickered through their bond. “It’s time to get up, Dean.”

           “It’s dark. There’s no way in hell.”

           “We’ll be late.”

           “It’s a three hour drive and Maura’s graduation doesn’t start until noon. We have a present.”

           “Sam wanted us to be there earlier.”

           “Sam can—ugh. Please.”

           “Alright, Dean.” Cas drew him back under his wings, and Dean sighed with contentment. He was too old to get up before dawn anymore.

           He’d been saying that since he was fifteen, so it was a bit strange to actually realize that hey, he was pushing sixty, and his youngest niece was graduating university. He really was getting old.

           When Dean had imagined old age as a young man, it had always been something like Bobby. Drunk, running phones and hunts, barking at everyone but always having a place to crash for anyone who needed it. Being alone.

           He had parts of that. He and Cas lived in one of the safe houses in Kansas, and spent two days a week running phones and chat lines together for the re-established Men of Letters. He was probably getting grumpier now, but he had a wall of pictures of the hunters who called him and Cas Dad, sometimes as a joke, sometimes very real. There were even three kids who called them Uncle—Ellie Mary, Dean Patrick, and Maura Celeste.

           Their Aunt Charlie loved the last one.

           As for being alone…well, Dean had almost forgotten the feeling. He felt a surge of affection for Bobby, and hoped that he’d helped the old hunter at least a little on his bad days. He couldn’t imagine Cas not being there over all of those years, the battles, the heartbreaks. Even the joyful days would have been missing something if Cas hadn’t been there with his bright eyes and confused smile.

           Cas patted his shoulder. “Dean.”

           Dean groaned. “Fine.” He pushed himself up and stared at the clock. Which said 2 AM.

           “You son of a—”

           He leapt onto Cas and attempted to pound him properly, but his wings, healed from the moment they were bound together, blocked him.

           Cas laughed and grabbed Dean’s hands. “I’m sorry, Dean, but I woke up and I couldn’t resist.”

           “You’re horrible.”

           Cas dragged him into a kiss, rubbing his back as he enfolded him in his wings. “Go back to sleep, dearest,” he whispered. “I’ll fly us there later.”

           Dean grumbled, but he laid his cheek against Cas’ chest. “You better make me breakfast for that.”  

           “Of course.”

           Dean closed his eyes, sleep already dragging him down. Cas’ hold was comforting and safe, his hands high on Dean’s back. There was no awkwardness between them, no distance.

           Profound bonds were nice. Even if your bondmate liked to wake you up at 2AM for a joke.

The End

#spn fanfiction #platonic destiel #ace spn mini bang #asexual castiel #spn au #dean winchester #sam winchester #sam winchester/eileen leahy #benny lafitte #eileen leahy #castiel #aromantic dean #asexuality #aromanticisim #acme146 fanfiction #acme bang

[waywardmoeyy]

My Guardian (Part 5)

Cas x Reader

Word Count: 1766

Warnings: kissing, angst, swearing, violence, mild gore, brief mention of sexual arousal.

**Sorry for the late night posts. It’s also when I write, so some of this may be weird. Anywhos, enjoy.

My Guardian Master List

“Sam and Dean will be back any minute,” Cas grumbled into your ear. He nuzzled his nose into your neck and nipped. You were actually sad that the brothers were coming home. The time you had spent alone with Cas had been wonderful. You had expressed to Cas that you wanted to keep everything that had gone on between the two of you a secret until you found Crowley.

No distractions.

Sure, Cas’s presence anywhere near you was now a distraction, but he was also a lot of help. The two of you had spent the morning drinking way too much coffee and planning your attack on Crowley’s new fortress. The boys had texted Cas pictures of the warding symbols that littered the house’s concrete barrier. You had come up with a few plans of how to take them down to allow Cas entrance.

The door at the bunker’s entrance opened and Dean’s hearty laugh filled the room. “Hey, look Sam, they really are still alive!” Dean stomped down the stairs and quickly made his way to you. You stood, gladly receiving a hug from the oldest Winchester. His muscular arms nearly knocked the wind out of you.

“Glad… to see you too, Dean,” you huffed.

He laughed again as he loosened his grip. “Shit, Y/N. That was a close one. Good thing we have a kickass guardian angel.” Dean’s voice was light.

Sam approached you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for another suffocating hug. “Seriously. You look great!” he exclaimed in a chipper tone.  

“Almost gone,” you chuckled as you lifted your shirt a little. The once huge gash across your abdomen was almost completely closed. There was no need for a bandage anymore. You beamed over at Cas. “He did good.”

Cas’s cheeks flushed. “I’ve found a few ways for you to destroy the warding around the compound,” he said trying to change the subject. “There seems to be a large tree lining this side of the fence,” he pointed to one of the photos you had printed out. “I think Y/N is small and nimble enough to climb it, get onto the fence, and make a small mark on some of the lines. We only need to destroy a few to weaken the warding enough.”

Dean listened, nodding at Castiel’s explanations.

But you didn’t hear much. You just stood there, staring at Castiel. He wasn’t very involved in the effort to take down Crowley until now, which made your heart flutter. He was doing all of this for you, to help you seek revenge, and to probably seek revenge for himself.

“Okay, everyone pack up! We leave in an hour!” Dean shouted, waking you from your little daydream.

You nodded at Dean to make it seem like you were paying attention, then scurried off to your room to pack.

Sam and Cas stood around the large table as Dean and you went off down the hall. Sam crossed his arms, watching Cas’s eyes follow you.

“So, did you tell her?” Sam asked the angel, nudging Cas with his elbow.

Cas cleared his throat. “Well, not exactly.” His answer was curt.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay, Mr. Mysterious. I’m just glad the two of you are able to work together and you are getting involved. It will mean a lot to her.” Sam sighed, “C’mon.”

Cas nodded and made his way to the door.

Cas was quiet for most the trip to the creepy mansion, but his hands were restless. He fumbled with them in his lap before reaching over the space between you and ran his finger over your thigh. You didn’t look at him, but your rosy, heated cheeks said it all. You could feel your arousal in your core, causing you to squeeze your legs together. You gaze flicked over to him. His glassy blue eyes met your gaze, making your chest throb.

“We’re almost there, guys. Be ready,” Dean commanded, snapping you out of your trance yet again.

The immense ivory walls glared back at you as you stared out the car window. They were the one thing between Crowley and your secret weapon. All you needed was to get rid of the warding.

Dean pulled up to the spot where you had all decided to let you get out. You leapt out of the Impala and sprinted for the tree you had seen in the photo. Your stomach twisted and turned with both excitement and nerves. If this didn’t work, Crowley could find you and finish you off for good.

You hoisted yourself onto the lowest branch and peered around. It was odd that no demons were out guarding the walls, but Crowley didn’t always have security like the Pentagon.

Making your way up from branch to branch, you spotted the boys and Cas in the distance. Cas was facing you, probably keeping tabs as you made your way up to the top. When you finally reached the top of the wall, you hooked your ankles around a branch and dangled over the other side.

Hoping no demons were looking out a window, you shook the small bottle of spray paint and made a line across the symbol. You did the same for the few others that were in your reach, hoping that would do the trick.

The plantation house felt like it was staring at you. You could feel Crowley’s presence, his power, sending an anxious chill through your body. That son of a bitch was going to get what he deserved.

Once you made your way down the tree, you hustled over to the boys. Mud squished under your combat boots. Cas shot up from the trunk of the Impala and approached you. You pulled your sleeves over your hands, not able to tell whether it was the cold night air or Cas who gave you the chills.

“I think I got enough of them,” you huffed.

“Great, let’s go. Cas, do your thing.” Dean grunted as he turned to towards the back of the house.

Cas grabbed your shoulder as you spun towards the house. He turned your so your faces were inches from each other. Sam raised his eyebrow to the interaction.

“Be safe, Y/N. Please,” Cas whispered.

You nodded, putting your hand on his. “You too.”

Dean hoisted you back into the tree, then followed suit. You secretly hoped the tree was strong enough all three of you, especially since both Sam and Dean were much larger than you. It was the only way onto and over the wall without going through the front entrance, like the badasses of some action movie. Not exactly the element of surprise.

Once you and the brothers had reached the muddy ground on the other side, you made a break for the nearest way into the house. You followed Sam as he ran from tree to tree, the trunks barely hiding his massive form. The house was dark, except for a few lanterns near the front door. One window on the second floor emitted a dim, flickering light. Crowley.

“There.” You pointed up to the small window towards the rear of the house. “He must be in there. I don’t think houses this old have basements.”

Dean and Sam both nodded. “There must be a back door,” Sam whispered. He turned to the house.

A loud male scream erupted from the house. The volume was overwhelming, not human.

Angel.

You made a break for the front door, not caring who or what tried to get in your way. You heard Dean and Sam shout behind you as the plan shattered into a million pieces. Like you.

You scurried up the stone steps and busted through the dark wooden doors. You were greeted by a large foyer, complete with white marble floors and a curved grand staircase. Another scream, this one even louder, filled your ears. You bolted up the posh, red carpeted stairs with your muddy boots.

“Cas,” you whimpered, your heart pounding in your ears. Shit. Bringing him along was a bad idea. Sure, he was a brute force against demons, but if he was hurt he was useless.

At the top of the staircase, there was a long hall littered with a half a dozen doors. You paused, taking in a breath. Where were all of Crowley’s guards? The hall was empty.

You jumped as you heard a loud bang, followed by the shouts of Dean and Sam. “I guess they found the back door,” you muttered to yourself. You pressed forward, determined to find the Scottish son of a bitch and snap his pompous little neck.

You reached the last door on the right and paused. The same flickering light you saw outside poked out from under the door. You kicked the door open as you heard the boys stomping up the stairs.

“Oh, darling, that’s no way to treat a vintage house like this,” the King of Hell reprimanded as he turned to you. Your vision was fixed on the hostage chained to a chair in front of him.

“Cas.” Your stomach flipped, almost making you vomit on the antique rug. You didn’t react to Sam and Dean as they blasted past you.

“Crowley, you son of a bitch!” Dean screeched as he lunged for one of Crowley’s minions.

“Oh, Dean, enough with the angst. Now, Y/N, I believe I have something you want. Something you treasure.” Crowley chuckled. “And this time, I won’t let him or you live.” Crowley took Cas’s angel blade and carved into the angel’s bare chest. Cas let out a guttural scream as blood dribbled down his stomach.

The angel’s eyes met yours, “Y/N, go. Go!” he grunted, gritting his teeth.

You stood there as Dean and Sam fought off the last of Crowley’s goons beside you. Your gaze stayed fixed on Cas. He had several large cuts on his chest, neck, and face.

“Yes my dear, go. But you won’t be running for long,” Crowley mocked.

Dean rushed at Crowley. With a flick of the King’s wrist, Dean hit the wall hard. Sam stood beside you, breathing heavily.

“Me for him,” you mumbled. Sam’s gaze snapped to you. Dean shuffled up from the ground, grasping his arm.

Crowley grinned. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t catch that.”

You clinched your fists at your side. “I said, me for him.”

Dean furrowed his brow. “What?” Sam breathed, almost as confused.

Crowley took a step back from Cas, lowering the angel blade. He raised an eyebrow as he smirked even wider. “Now that’s an idea.”

 Tag List:

@pizzarollpatrol

#castiel #cas x reader #castiel x reader #cas #crowley #dean #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural

[katymacsupernatural]

No Such Thing as a Happy Ending

Dean x Reader

3300 Words

Written in Third Person (1st time I’ve ever done it that way, so hope it doesn’t suck!)

Warnings: Angst, mentions of torture and violence.

Story Summary:  Dean is captured by Demons, along with a woman(the reader). Being drawn to her instantly, he tries everything to keep her safe, only to face heartbreak later on.

Written for @nichelle-my-belle 4K Angst Challenge. My prompt was: He didn’t even know her name, yet he felt sorry for her, for the pain she was going to live through.  

Three days. That’s how long Dean had  been down in this hell hole. He knew he really wasn’t in Hell, for there was no smell of brimstone, and he could just make out the light of the sun peaking through the boarded up window on the far side of the room he was being held in.

This hunt had started out easy enough. He and Sam had driven in to town, checking into one of the shabby motels they usually inhabited. After questioning the local authority and the medical examiner, they knew exactly what they were dealing with, Demons. Then it came the matter of finding the Demon’s hiding place. While Sam had been researching like crazy, Dean had needed a break. Leaving to find dinner for the two of them,  he never made it back to the motel. As he  climbed out of the Impala, something heavy hit the back of his head, knocking him to the ground, his body growing lax as he fell unconscious.

Waking up, Dean found himself in this cold room, a cell of cement with one boarded up window. Chained to a heavy metal chair, his legs and arms both wrapped tightly with no give at all. Hours passed before his captors came, evil grins on their faces and a tool chest in their hands.

“The famous Dean Winchester.” The ring leader, a man he came to know as Dageus, said in a rough accent as he rubbed his hands together. “We are going to have so much fun together.”

Their fun came in the form of torture. With knives, pliers, even a torch, they tortured Dean each day, to the point of unconsciousness. With blood pooling around him, his head would rest against the wall, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of his screams. Staying silent as they inflicted their pain, Dean’s eyes would stare hatefully into their pitch black ones, letting them know he would kill them the second he became free.

“You know your brother isn’t coming to save you. It’s just you and us now. And we have plenty of revenge to exact. All of our brothers and sisters you’ve killed or tortured for your own gain. It’s time you felt what they did.” Dageus threatened before slamming the knife down into Dean’s thigh. Closing his eyes, Dean bit his lip so hard it bled, but still, he refused to make a sound.

Frustrated, they left, finally leaving him to his own misery. Soon, the little sliver of sun left, leaving him in pitch black, and he wondered how much longer he would survive in here. He had faith in Sam, but he didn’t want Sam risking his own life to save his. He had prayed to Cas, letting the Angel know he was alive, praying for him to help Sam find him, but Dean wasn’t sure if Cas was even able to hear his prayers this time.

After the third day, Dean heard the door open, his mind fuzzy from lack of nutrition and blood. Blinking his blood crusted eyes open, he watched in horror as they brought in a beautiful woman, her body laying limply in their arms as they carried her to the set of chains on the wall across from his. “We brought you company.” Dageus explained happily, as they tossed her to the ground before chaining her up. Her h/c hair was in tangles, her face pale with a vivid purple bruises forming on her jaw. Otherwise she was untouched, not yet having been attacked by the brutal Demons.

“Why do you keep doing this?” Dean muttered, still pulling hard on his restraints, wanting nothing more than to kill the Demons and rescue the poor innocent girl.

“Because Hell is in chaos, and we’re bored. Happening upon you was just icing on the cake. And now you get to watch us tear this girl apart.” Dageus goaded, his hand running through the girl’s hair, and Dean wanted nothing more than to tear the Demon’s hand off. “Soon.” Dageus wickedly promised the girl, before locking the door behind him, leaving the two of you in pitch black darkness.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, waiting for her to wake up, needing to stay calm for her. He didn’t even know her name, yet he felt sorry for her, for the pain she was going to live through. For he knew they wouldn’t go easy on her, that they would no doubt torture her to get to him. That thought killed Dean, and he hoped his brother would hurry up and arrive, rescuing them both.

What seemed like hours later, with the sun barely starting to shine through the slit in the window, he noticed the fact that she started to come to, her body shivering in the cold air of the room. He watched her carefully, knowing she might panic as soon as she came to, and he wanted to try and calm her down before she pulled too hard on her restraints and hurt herself.

Dean didn’t get the chance to help her like he wanted. As soon as he started to speak, hoping she would understand and calm down, Dageus was back, heading straight for her while his minions went to the hellish toy chest. “Finally.” Dageus exclaimed, grabbing her hair and pulling her face up. With the lights on in the room, Dean could tell her eyes were a beautiful e/c shade, her pupils wide with terror.

“No, you Son of a Bitch! Leave her alone!” Dean exclaimed, his wrists turning bloody and raw as he pulled against the chains holding him to the chair.

“Finally. He speaks.” Dageus remarked as he pulled the frightened woman to her feet. “I knew bringing in another person would break that tough exterior of yours.”

“Fine. I’ll speak. Just torture me, not her.” Dean pleaded, and for a second he thought he had won. With a chuckle, Dageus reared back his fist, smashing it into the soft skin of her belly, and Dean cringed at the mangled cry that left her lips.

“Damn it!” He yelled, wishing he could do something to help the poor nameless girl. Again and again Dageus brought his fist down, ignoring the knives held out to him as he pounded on the girl. Her cries turned to moans, and she tried to cover her body, trying to get away from the brutal attack but it was useless.

After what seemed like forever, Dageus left along with his henchmen, and Dean turned his attention back to the girl who lay panting on the ground, obviously in pain.

“Shh, I know it hurts.” Dean tried calming her, not knowing what to do too much in a situation like this. “Don’t worry. My brother is on the way. He’ll be rescuing us soon.”

“Your brother?” She muttered through her split lip, her voice as smooth as honey. “Why hasn’t he come for you yet?”

“He’s still trying to find out where I am. But he will come, I know it. And he will save the both of us.” Dean promised the girl, who shivered as she curled into a ball on the ground.

“I’m Dean.” He informed her, trying to take her mind off of the pain she had to be going through.

“Y/N.” She replied softly, her head lulling back as her strength waned.

“Beautiful name.” Dean whispered, but she was already asleep and he sat there, his body sore and battered, but his heart a little lighter as he stared down at the strong beautiful woman in front of him.

________________________________________

The next day brought much of the same. Dageus was gleeful, positively cheerful that he now had two victim’s to torture, moving back and forth, slicing and dicing both of you. It wasn’t just the pain that was hard to deal with. The worst part for Dean were the games Dageus seemed to enjoy playing. Holding a knife to Y/N’s neck as she pleaded, her eyes on him while Dageus promised to spare her if Dean begged.

Dean could count the number of times he begged on one hand, and they usually all pertained to his brother Sam. But with Y/N’s beautiful eyes pleading with him, he couldn’t help but beg to save her, to torture him instead. She held some sort of hold on him, and he would gladly take the pain to spare her.

Each and every time Dean begged, Dageus would take a step towards Dean, removing the knife from her neck. With a devious glint in his eyes, Dageus would nod, letting one of his minions take another knife to her, while Dageus slashed Dean at the same time.

Soon the two of you were covered in blood, your bodies weary and beyond sore. Pausing for a break, Dageus left the room, promising to return with new toys to try out. Hearing sobbing coming from Y/N, Dean felt useless, unable to do the one thing he was good at. Saving the damsel in distress, killing the monsters. Yet here he was, watching as Y/N lay bleeding and broken on the ground, the Monsters running wicked and free. It was infuriating, and Dean banged his head against the wall, needing to find a way to save her, and himself, before Dageus could do anymore danger.

“Dean, please. I need you to do something for me. If you make it out of here and I don’t.” She pleaded through blue tinged lips.

“No, we are not going to do this!” Dean heard himself yelling her way. “We are both going to get out of here, I promise you.”

“But I’m so cold.” She chattered. “And I feel so weak, so tired.”

“Y/N, you can’t sleep.” Dean ordered, knowing they had bashed her head at least twice and he was worried about a concussion.

“So tired.” She whispered again, and Dean cursed as her eyelids closed and her body relaxed on the floor.

He was weary too, his body much weaker than he would care to admit. His eyes grew heavy and leaning his head back, he kept whispering over and over that help would come, that he would get Y/N out of this mess if it was the last thing he did.

Grunts and screams filled his ears, waking him up for his exhausted slumber, his neck popping in pain as he straightened his head. Glancing down at Y/N, his heart stopped for a moment when he noticed she was still out cold even with the loud noise coming from outside their door. It was when he noticed the slight rise of her chest he let himself relax, waiting to see what was happening.

More screams filled the silence before the door was shoved open and a bloody and sweaty Sam filled the doorway, his chest heaving from exertion. “Dean!” He exclaimed, rushing forward but a quick shake of Dean’s head had him stopping in his tracks.

“Her first. Save her.” Dean prodded, pointing his head over to the unconscious Y/N laying on the ground. Nodding quickly, Sam moved, kneeling down and undoing the chains with the keys he had taken from Dageus. Leaving her laying on the ground, Sam came over, unlocking the chains around Dean’s ankles and wrists. Without the support of the chains holding him up, Dean almost fell, if it wasn’t for Sam reaching out and catching him.

Just then Cas came in, a bloody Angel Blade in his hand as he surveyed the small room. “They are all taken care of.” He announced.

Leaning down, Sam helped Dean to his feet, moving to leave the room. “No, not until she’s taken care of.” Dean pleaded, and Cas strode over, leaning down and picking her up gingerly in his arms. Making sure Cas went first, Dean limped along, using Sam to support most of his weight.

“Took you guys long enough.” Dean muttered as Cas pushed the door open, the bright sunlight blinding to Dean’s eyes.

“They were well hidden. It was only when Cas showed up that we could find out where they had taken you.” Sam explained, as the Impala came into sight.

“Thank god.” Dean exclaimed, running his hand along the smooth exterior of the car. “I was afraid I might never see you again Baby.”

Sliding stiffly into the backseat, Dean motioned for Cas to slide Y/N in with him. Letting her head rest against his lap, Dean stared down at her, seeing her truly for the first time. She was beautiful, even with the gashes and marks along her pale skin. Skin that was probably vibrant and beautiful was pale from blood loss, dirty and covered in blood. Her eyelashes were dark and long against her cheeks, but he couldn’t wait until she stared up at him with her e/c eyes once again.

“Dean, maybe we should drop her off at the local hospital.” Sam suggested as he drove away.

“No. She stays with us. Cas can heal her.” Dean ordered, and Cas looked into the backseat, studying Dean carefully.

“Dean, I am still weak. I can heal only one of you right now. She needs to be dropped off at the hospital.” He explained, but Dean wasn’t having any of it. He needed to know that she was safe, and cared for, and he didn’t trust the hospital. He trusted Cas.

“Heal her. I will live.” Dean argued, and the ride turned silent, neither man wanting to argue with Dean when he was that set in his decision.

It was about a thirty minute ride to the motel, and a couple of times Dean felt himself start to nod off, only to wake up to make sure he didn’t startle Y/N. During the entire ride she didn’t move, and Dean was starting to worry that they may be too late. As soon as they arrived, Dean made Cas carry her inside, while he hobbled along behind.

Almost falling into the first chair he came across, Dean waited impatiently for Cas to begin. “Please Cas. She’s been unconscious for hours now.”

“Dean, please reconsider. You are hurt, you need my help.” Cas tried arguing, but Dean would have none of it.

“No. Heal her.” Dean ordered once again, and with a startled look to Sam, Cas leaned down, pressing two fingers to Y/N’s cheek. As he worked, Sam came to stand next to his brother, his hand a comfort on Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean, why is she so important to you?” Sam asked quietly as the bruises and cuts began to fade away, her skin returning to her natural shade.

“I don’t know.” Dean admitted. “As soon as they brought her in, I felt drawn to her. It killed me that I wasn’t able to protect her, that I had to watch her suffer at the hands of those Demons.”

“Come, let’s try to clean you up.” Sam suggested, leading a weary Dean into the bathroom. As Sam worked on stitching Dean up, Dean made sure he could see the beds, wanting to be there when she awoke.

Much later, after his cuts had been clean and stitched, Dean lounged on the bed, staying close to her side, waiting for her to wake. Sam and Cas had left, going back to burn the building, wanting to make sure nothing was left for the Demons to return. Dean continued to watch her sleep, wanting nothing more than to run his hand down her smooth cheek, to learn everything about her.

It was only seconds later he noticed her eyelids fluttering, as she slowly came to. He watched as her gaze fluttered around the room before landing on Dean. “Dean?” She whispered, her voice still smooth and sweet, music to his ears.

“We’re free. The bad guys are dead, and we are safe.” Dean assured her, helping her to a sitting position, wincing as the movement jarred his sore body.

“This isn’t a dream? We’re truly safe?” She muttered, before a smile broke out on her face. “But my body. It doesn’t hurt anymore. The cuts are gone!”

“I have a friend who helped.” Dean answered staying vague so he didn’t upset her anymore than needed.

“Thank you so much.” She exclaimed, before frowning. “But Dean, I need your help.”

Grasping her hand, Dean nodded, ready to give her anything she asked for. He wasn’t expecting her next words however, and Dean felt his whole world shatter in an instant.

“My husband. He has to be so worried. Can you take me to him? I feel horrible asking because you’ve done so much, but I need to see him!”

In an instant Dean felt himself doing what he did best. Shutting himself back in, putting on a fake smile, pretending everything was okay. Even though inside he was shouting at himself for being so stupid. For thinking that for once something would go his way, that maybe he could get the girl. “Of course. Let’s go.”

Standing up on shaky legs, Dean waited for her to climb out of bed, giving her his arm for support. Making their way outside, Dean was grateful Sam and Cas had taken Cas’ car, leaving the Impala behind. Pulling the spare key from the fender, Dean started the car, his face a mask as he pulled out of the parking lot, following her directions towards the middle of town.

Glancing over occasionally, he watched as a tirade of emotions crossed her face. Worry and relief, hope that her family was still okay. He wished for a moment that those emotions were for him, that she was rushing to return home to him. It was foolish, but he still felt drawn to her, wishing they could have met under different circumstances.

The drive wasn’t long enough, and soon Dean was pulling up to a nice suburban home. Parking outside, Dean said quietly and calmly. “There you go, home at last.” Keeping his gaze on his hands, and not on the beautiful woman next to him, knowing if he glanced into her sparkling eyes, he might admit to things he would regret later.

“Thank you Dean.” She told him softly, reaching over and grasping his hand with hers. Her lips ghosted across his cheek, before she slid out of the car, rushing up the sidewalk throwing open the front door to her house. Forcing himself to watch, Dean saw her through the front window, a tall, handsome man with dark hair throwing his arms around her, holding her tight. Wishing it was him, Dean tortured himself more, watching as she stood on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to her husbands, threading her fingers through his hair.

With a groan, Dean started the Impala, gunning it down the road, and out of the subdivision. Slamming his hand against the steering wheel, he finally allowed his mask to break, letting a single tear slip down his cheek at the thought of what could have been.

By the time he returned to the motel room, Sam and Cas were back, waiting for him with questioning gazes. “She’s home now.” Dean announced, walking straight over to his bag, pulling out a bottle of whiskey. Downing a big gulp, Dean let the warm liquid burn down his throat, the burning a welcome relief to the pain his heart was filling.

“Dean, what happened?” Sam asked, noticing how quiet and reserved his brother was being. Even more so than normal.

Dean downed another shot before answering his brother. “She woke up, needing to get back to her husband, so I took her. That’s it.”

Laying down on the bed, Dean took another sip, wanting nothing more than for the alcohol to erase the memories of the e/c eyed girl that had easily stolen into his life before leaving him with a gaping hole in his heart.

Tags:  @nichelle-my-belle, @generalgoldfishldrm, @nerdybookwormsinger, @yaya-snowflakes

#nichelle’s 4k angst challenge #deanwinchesterxreader #dean winchester fanfiction #angst #dean winchester angst