#Dean and Castiel were taught that in order to love you must fear and

[holylulusworld]

His Credo - Part 4 - Running for our life’s

Summary: When you kill an aggressor to prevent yourself from being claimed by force his protégé comes for you. As an Assassin Dean follows the credo strict. Will he eliminate you or will he break the credo for his Omega?

This is an ABO/Assassins Creed/SPN AU Series

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, John Winchester, Samuel Winchester, Castiel Novak, Gadreel, Claire Novak

Warnings: angst, language, ABO Dynamics, true mates, protective Dean, light smut, unprotected sex, rut, public sex, knotting, fluff, comforting

His Credo Masterlist

Dean’s family surrounds you, lets you and Dean ride in their middle to make sure they can cover your Alpha’s scent and keep any preying eye of you.

“We are close to the border, Dean. Keep your hoods up and stay between us, no hasty decisions. I know you are in rut and want to be close to your Omega but, she should ride on one of our spare horses.” John orders as you cling to your Alpha’s body.

“Father, I don’t think…” Samuel tries to argue with his father, but you raise your hand, nodding.

“Alpha, your father might be right. I shall pretend I’m a man, men do not ride with another man in their arms. We need to be sly and get out of here.” Your voice is trembling as you don’t want to leave your Alpha’s arms, but you know it’s the only way.

“I hate to let go of you, Omega.” Dean snarls, glaring at all Alpha’s around you but he must admit his father is right. “Stay close to me, do not ride too far away.”

Before Dean helps you mount a spare horse he purrs into your neck, licking his claiming mark to show any Alpha around you are his Omega. Your hands are shaking but you try to tame your wildly beating heart to mount the horse.

“Can you ride, Y/N?” John asks as you take the reins, nodding proudly at your Alpha’s father.

“My father taught me how to ride and more when I was a girl. I’m not a helpless little Omega.” Snarling you smirk at your Alpha as he rides next to you. “I can defend myself too…”

“Let’s get going. We should leave this area and ride toward our hide-out. Our home is lost by now.” John exclaims as he points toward a hill. “If we can pass this we are out of danger, at least I hope so.”

“Your home is lost?” Glancing at the leader of the Assassins you gasp as he explains they burned their home to not leave any trace of their whereabouts.

“We were hiding in the shadows for years, Y/N. John motions to stop, trying to listen to a sound close by but it’s only a boar grunting into the Alpha’s direction. “Till now Azazel and the others believed we parted ways after I freed Samuel.”

“I see…they believed you are no harm. Is that the reason my father cursed your name now and then? I remember he mentioned your name and that with you everything could change.” You are feeling your Alpha’s eyes on you, purring to assure him you don’t want his father.

“I failed your father, Y/N. A few weeks ago, he sent me a message, asking me to protect you but I was away with Samuel to prepare for an attack. We wanted to strike soon but when we returned your father was lost and we couldn’t find any trace of you.” John nods at Samuel to take the lead as Castiel falls back, keeping an eye on the surroundings.

“Claire, take Y/N’s left side, Gadreel stay at Dean’s side. I’ll ride ahead and check if the path is clear. Give me ten minutes, Samuel. You know what to do if I do not come back.” John is dashing toward the hill, prepared for a fight to defend his pack.

“Dean, I’m scared…” Whimpering you hold out your hand and Dean squeezes it tightly, purring as he can feel you start to shake.

“No one will hurt you or take you away from me, Y/N. I’ll kill them all if I must. The credo, they tainted it with their behavior. I need to punish them, but before I’ll bring you to a safe place.” Dean’s words frighten you more than the memory of Alastair trying to violate you.

“Alpha…?”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We will be by Dean’s side, we and our order. United we will stand and fight against these false Assassins not following the credo. These monsters ruled Firenze for way too long.” Castiel is looking to the hill, waiting for his leader to come back but all he can see is darkness.

“I can sense father.” Samuel is watching John riding toward the pack, waving at his son to follow him over the hill and further into the woods as planned.

“Let’s ride…” Dean barks glancing at you before the pack dashes toward John, while you pray no one is following you and your Alpha.

----

“We can’t make a campfire. Take the blankets and keep your Omega warm, Dean. Castiel and Gadreel will be on guard duty tonight. Claire, you will sleep a bit while Samuel and I check the path we want to use in the morning.” John orders and Dean must admit his father is a great leader, sharp, hard and solicitous at the same time.

“Yes, Sir.” While Gadreel and Castiel prepare their weapons Claire nods, feeding the horses. “I'll sleep after I fed the horses and made sure we can escape if needed.”

“You will soon rise in our ranks, Claire. I’m proud of you.” John nods at his eldest son, handing him another blanket. “Keep your Omega warm and safe, Dean. I’ll be back soon, and we will continue our journey in the morning.”

Watching his father and Samuel leave Dean needs to calm his wildly beating heart. He wants to keep you safe at all cost but at the same time, he needs to punish Azazel and everyone else for threating his Omega.

“You must be exhausted, Alpha. I know your rut got worse on our journey. The stress and fear someone could hurt me took a toll on you. Please sleep a bit, Dean.” Gently touching your Alpha’s cheek, you try to calm Dean. You know he’s worried about you, not able to focus on anything than protecting you.

“I’ll sleep when you sleep, Y/N. Now lie and close your eyes, Omega. I’ll protect you.” Snuggling into one of the soft blankets you purr as Dean moves his arms around you, pressing you to his warm body.

----

Waking up you feel Dean’s lips nipping at your neck. His hands roam your body, and his cock is pressing against your rear.

“Omega…” Dean whispers as you slowly grind against him. “Need you…” Freeing your lower half from your clothes Dean greedily laps at your neck. “Can you take me…?”

“I can always take you, Alpha. My body reacts to your rut, Dean. I want you inside me, please…” Whining you bend a bit to let your Alpha enter you with one hard thrust. There’s a moment of perfect silence as Dean fills you completely.

“Omega…” A deep rumble leaves Dean’s chest as he starts moving inside of you. He tries to be silent to not wake Claire or catch the other Alpha’s attention.

Biting your shoulder, he moans against you, making you hiss as the sharp pain goes straight to your core.

Your Alpha snaps his hips faster into your ass, loving the way your pussy clings to his length.

“You’re made for me, taking me always so good…” Dean’s husks against your skin, making your stomach flip at his praise. “Want you to come on my cock.”

Now you start meeting his thrusts, mewling at the feeling of Dean’s fingers pressing hard down your clit to make your pussy contort around him. Your body is giving in to the pleasure, giving Dean what he needs.

“Going to knot you pretty Omega…”

Feeling Dean’s cock swell inside of you and his cum floating your belly you close your eyes, believing it was fate you met your Alpha. “I’m glad you came to kill me, Dean…”

“Love you, Y/N. I want to have a family with you. I want to be a good Alpha.” Dean is kissing your neck softly, holding you safe in his arms.

“You are a good Alpha, Dean. No man, except for my father ever protected me as you do. You gave up your whole life, your credo for me. Never believe you are not a good man and Alpha.” Your words let Dean’s chest swell.

He questioned all decisions he made over the last years but hearing you call him a good man let hope bloom in his chest.

----

“Dean wake up! There are at least ten of Azazel’s men coming for us. They are getting closer and we have to be quick to escape. We are not prepared for a fight in the woods. Dean, let’s bring your Omega away from here.”

John gives his men orders, pointing at the woods. “We need to hide in the darker part of the woods. No one ever came back from the deeps of this strange forest.”

“We’ll risk it, father. Dean, get your Omega ready. You should ride together, brother. This way you can escape with her if needed.” Sam mounts his horse, nodding at his father as he watches Dean holding you close to his chest.

“United we stand, Dean. No one gets your Omega or you. I lost my family once; this will never happen again.” John is sliding his blades out, nodding at his pack.

“Nothing is true; everything is permitted.” Dean rasps as he tightens the hold on you.

“All for the credo!” John calls out.

“All for our pack and family.” The others reply before they dash toward the woods…

SPN Forever Tags

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#spn #spn fanfiction #angst #abo #abo dynamics #alpha!dean #alpha!dean winchester #alpha!dean x reader #alpha!dean x omega!reader #alpha!dean x omegareader #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester SPN #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #his credo masterlist

[mattzerella-sticks]

Fixing It (a Dean/Cas 15x08 inspired coda)

Dean Winchester walked a long & difficult road. House burning down when he was 4, constantly being on the move until his father lost a fight with demons at the age of 25. Reunited with his mother only to lose her again. Have a son only to lose him, too. Of all the shadows that have crossed his path, he thought one of the main sources of light was his husband Castiel.

But he had to ruin that, too.

Can he ever have that shine again? Or are there things that are too good for him to hold? Will they mend what was broken?

“We met in an office like this, actually… or, outside of one.”

“Really? Why don’t you expand on that Dean.”

Dean shifts, glancing over at where Cas waits perched on the other end of the crimson couch. It drew Dean’s attention upon walking in, the sweat around his collar doubling imagining how hot it must be to sit on it. Like roasting over a pit. The image grew stronger when he glimpsed how the therapist’s hair matched her furniture.

“Well,” he squeezes his wrist, staring at his feet, “I was going to this place for a few weeks now as part of… recovery, for this thing that happened to me.” Nails bite at his skin while skimming the surface of his memory pool. “All the physical scars healed, but there was still something not clicking up in the head department -”

“Dean,” she says, halting his descent into the deep end, “You don’t have to dredge up past trauma. I didn’t ask for that. I asked about when you first met Castiel.”

His vision, once blurry, now refocuses on the rivulets of blood trickling from where his nails broke skin. “Right,” Dean coughs, “Yeah… yeah, thanks… anyway -”

Five minutes. Traffic on the highway made him late by five minutes. Dean hurried out of his car and over to the small storefront Dr. Richings rented. Not the most promising places for help in navigating his mental health, nestled between a hair salon and a Pizza Hut, but it accepted his very threadbare insurance. Plus, after getting to know him, Richings earned his respect and vice versa.

Except, with now six minutes past when he should have been there, Dean threw all his hard work away. “If you’re going to be late,” John’s voice in his head echoed, “why bother showing up at all.”

He paused, hand on the door. Breathing deeply, Dean mumbled, “Because if it matters… you have to show up.” The bile simmers and sinks into the bog it rose from, beaten back by one of the mantras Richings taught him. Waiting another beat to calm his rapid heartbeat and remind himself the other man won’t be too mad, Dean finally entered.

“Look, I know what Dr. Richings said but-but I don’t think it’s enough to warrant giving away my appointment!”

Someone with a voice like scuffed leather blocked the path to Tessa’s desk. Broad shoulders, either from actual muscles or extra padding given by the rumpled trench coat. Dark hair sticking up like he stuck a finger in an electrical socket seconds before.

“Sorry Mr. Shurley,” Tessa said, “but as I’ve been trying to tell you, we didn’t give your spot away. The doctor decided last time that you needed to have your session another day.”

“But… but it’s me !” Shurley guy continued, “Dr. Richings always reserves Thursday appointments for me at this time! I mean…” he gestures to the empty row of seats shoved against the wall, “there’s no one else here! No one comes in on Thursdays!”

“Be that as it may, this Thursday is different . The doctor is backed up and has been running over with each session as it is. He’s almost done with his one o’clock, and then he’ll see -”

“Me,” Shurley demanded, “Come on, who else could it be?”

Dean cleared his throat, finally making his presence known. Shurley whirls around, eyes wide at the interruption. Cheeks twinged pink from being caught in the act. Adorable if he didn’t see how much of an asshole he was being. As it was, Dean tamped down the urge to gasp at how the blue of his eyes contrasted with his heated, tanned skin. “Actually,” he said, “Dr. Richings is supposed to be with me for the next hour.” Glancing behind the other man, he nodded at Tessa. “Hey.”

“Dean,” she sighed, smiling, “I was wondering where you were?”

“Traffic.”

Tessa nodded, shuffling papers around on her desk. “Like I was saying, Richings should be finishing up any moment. You can sit anywhere to wait…”

He winked, “Thanks.” Dean smirked, making sure to connect with Shurley’s gaze before striding towards the chairs. Collapsing at the one closest to the magazine pile on a nearby end table, he picked a random gossip rag and began reading.

A shadow fell overhead, blocking the pictures of Michael Jackson’s doctor as he was hounded by paparazzi. “Dude,” he scoffed, squirming under Shurley’s intense stare, “ever heard of personal space.” Their knees knocked together, denim brushing against paper-thin slacks.

“Give me your appointment.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll pay you,” Castiel said, grabbing his wallet, “A hundred dollars. Two hundred. Please .”

“Look,” he said, slapping the magazine closed onto his lap. “I get you’ve got your problems, you’re in therapy. But so am I. Understand that I need this just as much as you, maybe more so?”

Owlishly, Shurly blinked at him. “Three hundred?”

“Jesus!” Dean barked, “No amount of money is going to get me to move.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“...What’s that supposed to mean?”

“From my experience, people will always compromise given the right amount.”

Dean bristled, feathers finally ruffled. He stood chest-to-chest with the other man. More aware of how different their outfits were. His streaked with faded oil stains and grease marks, having come from work. If Shurley were worried about dirt getting on his clean white shirt or blue silk tie, he didn’t show it. “In my experience, smart mouths lead to fat lips .”

“Was that,” he spluttered, “what that a threat?”

“Yeah it was. Problem?”

Shurley glared, leaning closer. An impossible feat given how thin the space between them was. Electricity crackled underneath, Dean’s ears roaring from an elevated heartbeat. “It may shock you,” Shurley growled, stoking flames in his belly from the low timbre, “but I am no stranger to violence.”

A line pulled from the movies that, in any other context, would have Dean creaming his shorts. Instead, tethered to the aggravating man, the pleasure felt bittersweet. “Actually, I’m not,” Dean told him, “everyone you ever met has probably wanted to knock you upside the head.”

Silence washed over them, then. Tension leaking into every empty crevice until they were wound up tighter than toys. Quickly, in the blink of an eye, it all faded. Sucked away by the sound of a door opening.

“...you did really good today, Ms. Rosen. Next week I wouldn’t mind reading some of these stories you’ve written. Maybe… try your hand at writing something pulled from life instead of TV?”

“But a good story isn’t going to come out of nowhere…” her eyes dipped towards them, a nervous smile twitching to life. “Actually… scratch that. Inspiration has been struck.”

Dr. Richings looked at them, too, cursing under breath. “Why don’t you schedule your next appointment with Tessa, I have to deal with this.”

“Ugh, fine…”

He stalked over, lightning creasing his brows. Imposing in his stoicism. Dean tried to keep his cool, but broke immediately when Richings crushed his wrist in a strong vice. His almost-opponent flinched as well. “No fighting,” he said, “ ever .” Assured they were thoroughly chastised, he let go. Dean rubbed his wrist, wincing. The doctor ignored him in favor of Shurley. “What are you doing here Castiel?”

Shurley tried answering, except- “Castiel?”

Castiel glared at him, “It’s a family name.”

“I bet,” Dean huffed, “people are only named like that out of obligation.”

“Why you -”

“Dean,” Richings hushed him, “quiet. Castiel… your appointment Is not until tomorrow.”

Finally, Castiel seemed uncomfortable. He fidgeted, fingers playing with the ties of his coat. “I know,” he said, “I know we agreed to try stepping… outside my comfort zone . But a whole day? It’s… couldn’t we have done baby steps?”

“Baby steps,” Richings frowned, “you mean like having you order a different coffee from your usual cafe?”

“Well -”

“Or having you pair your suit with a different color tie.”

“Blue with white stripes felt weird -”

“Castiel,” Richings sighed, “we’ve been doing a ton of baby steps. A Friday appointment is still a baby step. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He reached over and laid a hand of Castiel’s shoulder, “That’s what brought you here, right? Fear?”

Nodding, Castiel said, “Yes, I -”

“No,” Richings cut him off, “hold onto that fear. Write it down. Bring it to me tomorrow and we can sort it then. This is Dean’s time.”

Castiel, affronted, glanced between the good doctor and Dean. Dean smiled, a friendly gesture of de-escalation. “An invitation to punch you in the face,” Castiel called it whenever they told the story to friends.

When he left the building, Dean immediately turned to Dr. Richings. “Wow,” he muttered, “what a piece of work…”

“Don���t do that.”

“Huh?”

“Castiel’s a very good man,” Richings told him, “albeit somewhat… peculiar . But aren’t we all?” He scratched at his chin, staring at the door. “He’s been a patient of mine for some time now, and what you saw today was a vast improvement. I’m asking a lot of him, and he’s trusting me. Don’t judge him on an almost bad day.” Brow raised, he trailed his gaze across Dean’s body. “Actually… you two would get along really well, given the right circumstances.”

Dean blushed, “What? Him? No way doc…” Clearing his throat, he pushed past him and towards his room. “C’mon, we’re here to analyze my sucky brain not my sucky love life.”

“I didn’t say anything about love , Dean…”

“Shut up.”

Castiel chuckles, rubbing his thumb across his threadbare jeans. “You were an awful assbutt -”

“Can’t believe you still use that word…”

The woman across from them, perched on her chair, hums through plum lips. “An eventful first meeting,” she says, “Real hell. And that was when cupid struck?”

“No, not really,” Castiel says, “a few weeks later, I brought my car into the shop where Dean works. He fixed my car up while I waited, and we didn’t know who the other was until it came time to assess for payment.”

“Figured the guy who owned the truck was a messy dork,” Dean chuckles, “at least three different books in the passenger seat footwell… empty containers of tea with the bags inside them… and tons of loose pages with so much highlighting -”

“All my students’ tests and papers flew everywhere after the crash,” he says, Dean not needing to look to know his nose scrunched high on his face. Lines criss-crossing over themselves adorably. “Forgive me if I was more concerned with my car.”

“Super concerned,” Dean smiles, “Bothering Bobby every half-hour, asking about your car -”

“Bobby? Oh… your boss, Mr. Singer?”

“Correct Dr. MacLeod -”

“Rowena, dearie,” she coos, “call me Rowena.”

Castiel flushes, squirming. “Right, sorry… Rowena. Bobby was Dean’s boss. And I wasn’t bothering him, I was concerned. I’d had my truck since my dad bought it for me in high school and I… I was a touch too sentimental in the past. I didn’t want to have to get a new car… so Bobby placated me, telling me how his best mechanic was making it better than new.”

“Ol’ bastard did love to exaggerate…”

Rowena smiles, checking through her notes. “Now Castiel, this isn’t the first time you’ve mentioned your… sentimentality . From your files it looked like you were going to Dr. Richings for a number of years about this. Why did you stop going?”

“I started getting better,” he says, “doing what the doctor suggested and… and meeting Dean helped me overcome many of the obstacles I normally struggled with. I’m sure you can see in my files the day I came to Richings without wearing my usual trench coat.”

“Probably next to ‘thank God for Dean’s clumsy fingers and open cans of motor oil’.”

“ Dean ,” Castiel hushes, the name ripped from his lips. A rush of quiet follows, and the warmth normally following his name hurts. Sobers any levity. “Anyway, weekly appointments became bi-weekly… which became monthly and bi-montly until, well… until he passed away.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Rowena says, squeezing the arms of her chair in lieu of their knees. Dean accepts the sentiment, meaning well-sourced in her thick accent. “And thank you both for telling me all this… I must admit when you two first started coming to me, I was wondering why. Mainly because of the lengthy history you two had with another doctor. Wasn’t sure if there was a falling out or anything…”

“No,” Dean tells her, “nothing like that. Me, I stopped going when I needed to. Went back whenever I got a bit overwhelmed with life and… spiralled .”

“Do you think that’s what happened then, Dean?” Rowena asks, “Did you spiral too much without Richings’ help until you crashed?”

A storm cloud rolled overhead, thundering. Shadows flashed over Dean’s eyes, vision blackening briefly and exploding with the colors of the room. He mulls Rowena’s words in his head. Uncaring to how they sound when it’s Richings saying them. Or Sam.

“I’m not going to let you give up like this,” Sam said, standing over the guest bed. Blanket held high over Dean so he couldn’t hide under it. Pillow long kicked to the floor. “We’re all worried about you. Bobby keeps asking me when you’re going back to work.”

Dean gurgled, rolling away so he wouldn’t face his brother. Squishing the empty bags of chips, turning crumbs into dust.

“She’s highly recommended,” Sam continued, “I met her through a client. Prosecution wanted us to give a detailed history of her mental health, and MacLeod was her therapist. She helped me with my case and even took the stand when the time came to strengthen our defense.”

“So?” Dean asked, “Good for you. Don’t see how that affects me.”

“Because she’s smart, kind, and won’t take any of your shit,” he tells him, “and you need that right now.”

“I don’t know Sam. That sounds like you, yet I’m still here…”

“Because you don’t want to listen to me. You don’t want to listen to anyone . There are only two other people who might help but you’re not speaking to one and the other is dead .” Sam sat on the bed, mattress dipping. “Dean… Richings can’t help you anymore. You need to see someone… talk about what happened -”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“So much Dean!” Sam yelled, “I might not know all the pain you’re going through but I understand a lot of it. I know what it’s like to feel loss . And now… she was my mom, too, Dean. Jack was my nephew. We’ve already lost enough people… stop giving them away.”

Anger flared inside Dean, and he clawed through Sam’s bedspread. “You think I’m giving him away? No, Sam. Cas can make his own choices. He don’t seem too keen on stopping by anytime soon for a chat.”

“He’s willing to go.”

Faster than the spark breathed to life it was snuffed. “What…?”

“Cas?” Sam said, “I already tossed the idea his way. If you agreed to go… he would too. He still believes you two can fix this.”

Dean let Sam leave without another word. Wouldn’t speak to his brother the following morning, not even attempting to sign his disparate malice to his sister-in-law. Kept to his vow until Sam dropped him off for the first session at the high rise. Made it all the way to the fifteenth floor, stewing in his aggravation. Until the elevator doors opened and he caught sight of a familiar trench coat.

“Cas.”

Barely a whisper, his name echoed in the empty waiting room. His husband looked up from his lap, dropping the strips of his ratty security blanket. Hurt welled in his too-blue eyes until he shut it down. Caged by purplish bags and new wrinkles. He retreated to his trench coat, pulling it over his t-shirt.

Like it didn’t make him any less ridiculous.

Dean signed in with the receptionist, finding the furthest chair away from Castiel and setting up camp until their names were called.

Neither were too keen to do anything in those first sessions.

Four months in, there’s been progress. But no light at the end of the tunnel.

“Tell me Dean,” Rowena carries on, “do you think Dr. Richings could have helped you process the recent tragedies that blew up your life?”

Dean scoffs, “I wouldn’t say blew up -”

“You lost your son to a horrible illness days and your mother to a careless drunk driver,” she speaks over him, tone smooth and sharp like a thumbtack piercing a corkboard. “Burying both within a matter of days of each other. You’ve lost your job. You’re no longer living in your house. And you’re here, in my office, because you’re inches away from your separation turning into a divorce . Tell me again how your life isn’t in complete shambles?”

He glared at her, arms crossed. “When you put it like that…”

She sighed, pinching her brow. “I didn’t mean to get cross with you, dearie, I just…” Rowena sets her notes aside and stands. “We’ve been at this awhile. You’re both good people who’ve been dealt unlucky cards. I wish neither of you had to go through what you did.”

“But we had to,” Dean growls, “I’ve always had to. Mom, Jack… I don’t know why I thought it would be different…”

Mary Winchester nearly died once. The Winchester brothers thought she did, perishing in a fire that consumed their childhood home. John spirited them away before they saw it fully collapse. Too early. For if they stayed a bit longer, they would have seen a fireman carry a somewhat charred, unresponsive woman to a nearby ambulance.

Maybe their family would have been whole. Maybe Dean could have grown up at a normal pace. Maybe their home wouldn’t have been a sleek, black muscle car from the past.

Maybe John Winchester wouldn’t have lost his battle with the demons goading him to drink every night until he couldn’t take it anymore and blew his brains out. Not telling either of his children until they received a call from a motel owner south of nowhere telling them how they found his body.

At least in John’s death, they found a new beginning.

Mary attended like a vision, almost too good for reality. They were right, when Dean approached her and a heavy fog clouded her vision. “Dean?” she said, “It… sounds familiar.”

After the fire, Mary woke with no memory past one of meeting a man with his foot glued to the accelerator and a taste for classic rock. Her parents filled her in on nothing. Keeping her in the dark about her sons, the ones named after them.

It took years for her memories of them to return, to create new ones. And they were for nothing.

Almost as pointless as taking in the child of a dear, late friend.

“He is technically my nephew,” Castiel said, watching Jack play with other kids his age. Arm wrapped over Dean’s shoulder. “And we both know Nick won’t have anything to do with the boy. Kelly wouldn’t want him shuttled off to some foster system, to be forgotten.”

Jack tripped over the basketball, landing on his knee. Dean jumped. An urge to run over and check on the boy awoke in that moment, seemingly from nowhere. He ignored it, instead watching what happened next.

Rolling over, Jack pulled his knee close and checked it. From how exposed the skin was to wear and tear by wearing shorts, Dean guessed he must have scraped it. Except there were no tears.

Jack stared at his knee for a long time, enough that the kids around him picked the ball up and continued playing without him. Then, after a minute that felt like hours, he turned to where Dean and Cas were standing. Looked at them, silently asking ‘Can you believe this?’

Dean chuckled, leaning into Cas’s embrace. “Yeah… yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Sure sure,” Dean said, “We’ll be good for him… and him, us.”

They were wrong then, too. Jack’s father struck with a vengeance, taking them to court for custody over their boy. With Sam’s help Dean and Castiel barely managed to keep guardianship of him.

It wasn’t a long duty. Almost as soon as their legal troubles were over the medical crisis began. Cancer too far along, Jack’s candle flickered dangerously in the wind.

“Dean,” Castiel says, closer than he was before, “Dean it’s not like we could have known any of this was going to happen.”

“But we should have!” he yells, “My life’s been nothing but some big cosmic joke. Some-some show that a cruddy audience jerks it to whenever I’m in pain.”

“That isn’t true.”

“It is Cas,” Dean says, blinking through tears, “Why can’t you see I’m just a lousy screw-up, huh? Your dad was right about me…”

“Hold on a minute,” Rowena stops him, hovering nearby, “what did you say?”

Dean rolls his eyes, wiping at the stray watermarks. “That I’m a screw-up -”

“No,” she waves him off, “about Castiel’s father?”

He scowls. “Yeah. What about it? He’s not the first person to call me a screw-up…”

“But you mentioned him , specifically,” she continues, walking back to her seat. Notes in hand, Rowena asks, “Has your father been a sore spot for a long time, Castiel?”

Castiel startles, glancing away from Dean. “What? I… uh, yes. I guess? Ever since Dean and I started dating he hasn’t been the-ah… the most supportive .”

Something bitter roils in Dean’s chest when he laughs. “It took your brother and sister locking him in a bathroom to keep him from interrupting our wedding.”

“He has this… idea of what me and my siblings should be doing with our lives,” Castiel explains, “Some of us followed in his footsteps and joined the family company. While others… rebelled. My brother Nick went into politics. Gabriel is a producer in Hollywood and Hannah… they teach sculpture at a community college in Maine.” “So your profession as a professor -”

“Was not well received,” Castiel sighs, “Every decision I made that he didn’t agree with, he saw it as me not achieving all I could do. That I was limiting myself. He pushes people very hard. As you can see me attest to in my files many of my neuroses were not aided by his parenting.”

Rowena scribbles on her notepad, tone lilting when she connects a few dots Dean cannot see. Too busy trying to figure out what she’s doing, he doesn’t see her turn to him. “Dean, my boy,” she starts, “why did you bring up Chuck just then?”

“What?”

“When you were talking to Castiel, you mentioned Chuck. Why was he on your mind?”

Dean shrugs, slumping in his seat until his knees hit the coffee table. “I don’t know. Sometimes when I’m in a funk my brain plays a mixtape of all the people who’ve said bad things about me and the dashboard buttons stick, so there’s no stopping it. Like I said, he wasn’t the first to call me a screw-up, definitely not the last.”

Rowena nods, mirroring his too-wide smile. ��Of course,” she says, “you’re not telling me the whole truth, are you?”

He pinches his thigh. “I’ve told you enough.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Dean?”

“I know that if I’m not ready to talk about things, I don’t have to.”

“This isn’t about being ready, Dean. This is about not wanting to face whatever happened -”

“Who said anything happened!” he yells, leaning forward, “I didn’t say that! It’s not like there was anything to happen. Nothing happened! I made sure of it when Chuck -” Dean bites his lip, cheeks heating under the victorious leer Rowena shoots his way. He avoids meeting Castiel’s curious stare when he returns to his earlier position. “You’re awful.”

“Awfully amazing,” she says, “Now… you and Chuck. Was it a recent altercation?”

Dean checks the clock, aware of how little time is left of their appointment. Waiting her out is preferable to dredging up that memory.

But then, “Dean…”

Looking at Castiel was a mistake. At his soft eyes, his parted lips, his overgrown stubble. Make him hoist the white flag and resign to mortifying ideals.

“It was a day or two after Jack’s funeral,” Dean begins, talking to his hands, “Cas… you’d gone with Gabriel to pay for the service. I was putting casserole after casserole away…”

“Coming!” Dean yelled, dropping Donna’s plastic Tupperware onto the counter in his haste to answer the door. He hurried when the incessant knocking grew louder. “I said I was coming,” he grumbled, “what’s so important that you’re… oh .”

Chuck stood on the other side, an air of casualness wafting from him. Dressed casually in a fitted Henley, dark-wash jeans, leather boots and a jacket. A total sum of more than what Dean made in a month. “What?” he asked, “Not gonna invite me in?”

“Finally admitting you’re a bloodsucker then?”

He pursed his lips. “Cute.” Chuck strode past him, “Where’s my son?”

“Cas isn’t here,” Dean told him, door still open, “If that’s all?”

Chuck glanced back, smirking. “Not that easy. I didn’t come here for him.”

Dean frowned, slamming the door shut. “What Chuck? What do you want?”

“I came here to talk to you.”

“Sure,” he huffed, “because you couldn’t have done that when you were at the funeral.” They barely shared a glance, Dean only knowing Chuck came by a whispered warning from Hannah and a peek at the back row when going up for Jack’s eulogy. “If you’ve come by to say you’re ‘sorry for our loss’ or some other bullshit… I don’t need to hear it.”

“Well… now that hurts Dean,” Chuck said, “Jack was as much my grandson as he was your son… actually, he was more . Biological factors considered -”

“ God !” Dean groaned, pinching his nose, “Haven’t I already suffered enough ?” Sagging against a nearby wall, he waves at his father-in-law. “Come on. Out with it so we can get this over with.”

Contempt flashed to life on Chuck’s face, quickly smothered by a self-satisfied smirk. “All right. Fine . I’ll skip the appetizers and present the main course.” The metaphor knocks his eyes so far back in his head they roll forward again without help. “I’m here to offer my help.”

“Help? What kind of help do you think we need?”

“The kind of help I can provide,” he explained, “ Money .”

Dean tensed, gaze flicking to the other man. “Money?” Five letters that made every nerve left in his body join their brothers, when one by one they turn to ash. Stoked to burn by memories, time after time of Chuck’s snide comments about their lifestyle. Being forced to listen, to bury his anger, with each insinuation he made from ‘concern’.

“Money,” Chuck said, fiddling with the jacket zipper, “You know… you could make a higher salary if you applied yourself more.”

He scoffed. “If I applied myself any more I’d be pushing Bobby’s wheelchair down a staircase.”

“Then maybe it’s time to consider a change?”

A chill rushed down Dean’s spine. Before he could comment, Chuck rushed into his spiel. About how Michael decided to leave the company after falling for some vagabond during a corporate retreat. “Adam’s a nice boy,” Castiel tells Rowena, “and very charming. I mean, he got my brother to pick up yoga .”

“Anyway,” Dean says, a fierce itch tingling behind his eyes, “instead of promoting from within, he got the idea to rely on old-fashioned nepotism.”

“From how you describe your father-in-law,” Rowena says, “It doesn’t seem like he’d be pretty keen on doing such a thing. What drove him to make such an ask?”

Dean sneaks a peek at Castiel, frowning.

“I know neither of you two are in a good place right now,” Chuck said, “financially, I mean.”

“How would you know that?”

Chuck switched to an even more irritating expression. Lips stretching in plastic sympathy. “Because of something I overheard after the service.”

“Castiel and Gabriel were talking,” Dean says, “About how, with both Jack’s and my mom’s… a huge chunk of our savings was gone. Not taking into account the money we funnelled towards medical bills until we found a St. Jude’s we’re still paying off. We were scraping by each month as it was… after all that…”

“It is to be expected,” Rowena says, “after such traumatic events for money to be a sore subject.”

“But,” Dean sighs, wiping at his nose, “I had to… I had to hear it from hum .” He shifts, turning to face his husband, “Cas, I had to hear it from Chuck and not you .”

He heard a lot from Chuck. When Dean rejected the offer, repeated with shaky confidence how they were doing fine with where they were, his father-in-law went livid. “You really are a fool,” he spat, barreling past him towards the door, “every day my son spends married to a buffoon like you is another he subjects himself to torture. Because you, Dean Winchester, are poison . You take so much from Castiel and push all your problems onto him and give him nothing . It’s no surprise all of this happened, because you wreck everything you touch. I hope you enjoy the gutters when the bank evicts you from your home in a month. Not like they’d be able to turn a profit on this shitty thing…”

“And then he left,” Dean shrugs, numb to the gentle caress of Castiel’s hand on his back.

“After all that?” Rowena asked, “He shouted at you and you did… what?”

“I did nothing,” he said, “I couldn’t do anything when he was right.”

“Dean -”

“He was, Cas,” Dean cries, “I mean, look at us! We’re in freaking therapy because I couldn’t lose just my mom, or my son… I had to lose you, too and I couldn’t handle it.”

Castiel readies another dismissal, but keeps his finger on the trigger. Tongue pressed against teeth, only part of him moving his brows furrowing above. He loads another, more deadly bullet into the barrel and fires at his heart. “Is this why, Dean? Why you pushed me away? Why you… you became so cold ? Why you said all those hurtful things at me?”

Dean wrings his hands, copper all he can taste. “I blew up,” he admits, “You were just… there. Being so kind… so caring, and I - I was so mad that I couldn’t be the same. Too full of my own bullshit that I couldn’t stick to my vows and be there for you.” Choking back a sob, he rocks into Castiel. “I never meant what I said… I… everything I said, were things I thought about myself.”

Rowena hums, scribbling in her notepad. “Dean, is this something you’ve done before?”

He nods. “I… yeah. I’ve had a history of being unable to process my anger in a healthy way. Or… at least that was how Dr. Richings described it.” Dean attempts a smile, lips twisting into a grimace. “After he helped me through that… dark period, I’d still go back to him from time to time-”

“When life started spiralling?”

“Yeah…” Sighing, he pulls from Castiel’s embrace, unable to rely on his husband as a shield. “I’ve… it’s always been a problem, since I was young. This anger. I don’t know why it’s there but it’s like it… it never goes away. And when everything becomes too much, and the voices in my head get too loud I… I…”

“You blow up?” Rowena finishes, glancing at Castiel, “Hurting those caught in the crossfire?” She adjusts in her seat, crossing her legs. “Has he ever blown up at you like this?”

“A few times,” Castiel admits, “But usually, with some time and space, we come back together. Normally only a few days, but…”

“But this was going on for much longer.” Rowena taps her pen, staring at Dean. “Why didn’t you seek to resolve this? If the pattern is blow up, space, reunion… why break the cycle?” He won’t answer her. Chews on his tongue so he can’t answer. It doesn’t matter. “Did you think you were doing Castiel a service by staying out of his life?”

“Shit,” he breathes. A nail pierces his heart, hammered in expertly by Rowena. “How are you this good?”

“Because I am dearie… so if you will?”

His mouth flaps for a beat, only no sound accompanies it. Throat stopped up by fear, thick and watery and not enough to truly choke on. Dean looks at Castiel, studies the infinite sadness rippling across his eyes. The only part of him that dare show how he’s feeling. “Because of this,” he growls, “because you’re holding back from me.”

“What -”

“Here I am having a breakdown and you look like it’s another fucking Saturday!” Dean yells, “Like you… you checked out, and were just waiting for an excuse to leave. At least… at least that’s what I believe, after talking with Chuck.” He gasps, tugging at his hair. “Christ, Cas, if you were worried about money why didn’t you bring it up with me? Why don’t you tell me how you’re feeling? I want to help but it’s like… it’s like you won’t let me .”

“Dean,” Castiel says, “I… I don’t know what to - to… I’m not waiting for an excuse to leave you -”

“Well how was the poor boy supposed to know that, Castiel?”

Castiel whips around towards Rowena. “Excuse me?”

She sighs, flipping through her notes. “In every session, you’ve been a willing participant. Moresoe than your husband. However… everything you ever said was about him or in relation to him… we never hear any ‘I’ statements from you.”

“I highly doubt that,” he says, lips twitching into a nervous smile, “I just said ‘I’... and I did it again!”

Rowena arches a brow. “In fact,” she continues, “didn’t you mention how, the day after Dean left you, you were ‘chugging coffee to stay awake in class’.”

“It was a very important week for me, most of my students’ grades were calculated from these presentations -”

“An average person in this kind of situation would not be too keen to go back to class,” she says, “in fact, you didn’t miss a single class since. Did Dean’s absence really affect you?”

“...Of course it did!” Castiel snarls, cool facade entirely shattered under the implication, “My love for Dean is as infinite as the stars in the sky or-or… or the amount of fucking purple you have in your office. But I know when to put my own troubles aside for others -”

“That you do, Castiel,” Rowena agrees, “In fact… it said in your file you have a tendency to absorb others’ burdens at the expense of dealing with your own?”

Dean watches Castiel barely contain his ire. Fingers twitching against his knee, scraping the denim. Eyes almost shut from how tightly they squint across the table, like he could smite her with a thought.

“You spend all your energy trying to fix things,” she says, “that there’s no time to hone in on what you’re feeling -”

“Because I know what I’m feeling!” “Good! What is it, then?”

“I… It’s... “ Castiel sighs, sagging into the couch now, “I’m tired, I’m… I’m empty . Like there’s been this darkness inside of me, chipping away until I’m nothing but a husk. And I figured maybe… maybe if I didn’t give it any attention, it would go away.”

“That’s no way to beat a beast like that, Castiel,” Rowena tells him, “You should know. Your history with depression -”

“Was a fucking nightmare,” he cuts her off, “some days I couldn’t get up from my bed I didn’t think it was worth it. Once… once, it was so bad, I nearly lost my job because I kept missing classes. All because I allowed myself to stare into the abyss and was foolish enough to blink.”

Rowena won’t quit. “You’re scared.”

“Damn right I’m scared.”

“And because of this fear,” she says, “you shut yourself off. Kept things bottled up.”

“Not… not entirely,” Castiel says, looking to Dean. “I… all your life, you’ve had other people’s shit dumped on you. Your dad’s… your mom’s… grandparents, co-workers, former partners… I didn’t want to be that. Didn’t want to put you through anymore of it. You had your own problems, and I wanted to be there for you .”

“Cas,” Dean sighs, reaching across to curl his arm around his husband’s shoulders, “When we stood across from each other all those years ago… I wasn’t accepting just the good parts. It was all of you.”

“But -”

“Everyone else dumped on me without my consent,” he says, “You… I want to be there for you. To help. Be equal… not treated with fucking kid’s gloves.”

“I know, Dean,” Castiel says, a tear traversing the planes of his cheeks, “I’m sorry.”

“We lost so much already,” Dean sniffs, “and we almost lost this… I’m sorry, too.”

They hold each other. Reacquaint themselves with parts they kept themselves from sharing because of their own stubborn beliefs. Dean breaths in the scent of laundry detergent around Castiel’s neck, heart aching because he missed it. Because Sam makes his own instead of buying Tide like a normal person.

“Now this is really lovely, boys,” Rowena says, clapping. Drawing them from the embrace, “Truly. But… we’re not out of the woods yet.”

���Yeah,” Dean says, “too easy, right?”

“You’ve made a lot of progress already,” she winks, “so I doubt the rest will be hard. That being said… our time is officially over.”

“It is?” Castiel asks, “That was all an hour?”

“An hour and five minutes but… who am I to rush healing,” she shrugs, “Besides, my next patient is a total narcissist and making him wait will be good for him.” Rowena stands, beckoning them to do the same so she can shake their hands. “I think you two are finally ready for some homework.”

“Homework?” Dean winces, “C’mon, Rowena…”

“Nothing too serious,” she laughs, walking them towards the door, “The two of you have taken so many hits, that it’s definitely bruised your relationship. So I want you two to take it back to where it all began.”

“Meaning?”

“Recreate your first date,” she tells them, “Reflect on what drew you two to each other and remind yourself of all the happiness that existed because of your union. And write it all down, because come our next meeting I want to hear all about it!"

“We will, Rowena,” Dean says, smile more genuine than ever, “Thank you.”

“All in a day’s work, dearie…”

They leave her office, walking side by side to the elevator banks. When it opens up, someone rushes out and between Dean, uncoupling their joined hands. Dean only notices they were glued together when forced apart, and quickly fixes that mistake.

“I’ve missed being able to hold your hand,” he says.

“I missed having your hand hold mine.”

Dean looks at his husband, calm with very obvious tear-stains on his face. “Do you think we’ll ever get back to where we were?” he asks under the delightful mediocrity of elevator music.

Castiel meets his gaze. “I’m not sure,” he says, “I don’t believe we can ever be the same as we were yesterday but… I hope we can be better.”

“So do I…” A breath. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Dean.”

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

Rowena walks to her car, fixing her hair into a ponytail. “Fucking naturalists,” she huffs, “Not everything can be cured with fucking crystals… if you’re gonna get into witchcraft at least make it interesting .”

At her car, she moves to enter. Only her phone chirps with a new message, drawing her focus. “Please don’t let it be a patient,” she says, checking.

She reads the texts, and smiles.

It was a patient. Rather, patients. Dean and Castiel sent her a photo - a selfie. From years ago, by the looks of it. Followed by another picture. A recreation of the first, with the same table, same candle, and same bottle of wine. Same all-consuming love for each other.

Thanks, doc .

“These are the moments that make it worth it Rowena,” she says, “make it all worth it…”

#Supernatural #Spn #Spn15 #15x08 #Castiel #Dean Winchester #Rowena MacLeod #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic

[vinylackles]

chapter two: the calling

a story about an angel, a hunter, a choice, love, a kitten named bumble, and will

masterlist of chapters ||  ao3 link 

To say he was shocked was an understatement. The last he had heard about God’s whereabouts he was off in a far galaxy, experimenting new creations with Amara. And now here he was. In front of him in the woods in Nebraska, with a tiny kitten in his hands. 

“Hello Castiel. It’s been a long time. I see that you found my friend.” He looked down at the kitten, who had very casually curled up in a tiny ball and was lulling itself to sleep with a few purrs in his palm. If Cas’ thoughts hadn’t been otherwise engaged, he probably would have smiled at how precious it was. 

“You’re back,” is what he said instead.

“Indeed. Apparently, I missed quite a lot.” His diction was more formal, and he looked less like Chuck and more like the ethereal being that Cas had spent his entire existence hearing about; a man to be feared. His hair was shorter, his beard shaved. No graphic t-shirts and converse. Something had changed on a deeper level, though Cas couldn’t put a finger on it. 

“Yes. You could say that. Why are you here?”

“I needed to speak with you.” 

“And you choose here?” Cas looked around, almost sure that there would be other settings that would be better suited for the meeting. Especially since it was God after all, and he could choose anywhere he liked. 

“It’s private, and I needed to speak with you alone.”

“Dean is right around the corner,” Cas warned. “He’ll be wondering where I am.”

“Your lover won’t realize that you’re gone, don’t worry. If our conversation runs too long, I’ll… pause things. Our matters are much more important.”

Cas waited, a nervous knot forming in his stomach. What could God want with him? Something so important that he’d come out of hiding again just to tell him. He doubted that was a good thing.

“The natural order of this place has been… disrupted. When I created the arch angels, I never really considered the fact that they may be able to travel between different dimensions of time and reality. In all honesty, I never thought that a Nephilim as powerful as Jack would come into being, so the thought never worried my mind. But alas, as I so often seem to be, I was wrong.”

“As I’m sure you guessed, I’ve been off with my sister. And she has taught me much more than I could have hoped for. But most importantly, she has told me that I need to take responsibility for the things that I create and bring into the world. I need to make it right.”

As unnecessarily wordy as his response was, Cas understood the point that he was skirting around. 

“So you know about Michael, from the apocalypse world. And you’re here to stop him.”

“Not exactly. I won’t need to take any action in that. Besides, I have a weak spot for my children, I often find it hard to kill them. I highly doubt I’m the best suited for the job.”

“The humans on this earth are your children as well. Dean is your child, and you left him here to be taken over by your power hungry, malicious, evil son. Or had no one filled you in on that little incident.” Cas couldn’t hold his tongue, although he knew that he should. He could feel the heat rising in him, filling him to the fingertips.

“Easy, Castiel. I am fully aware of everything that has happened, and I know how frustrated you must be. The way I see it, it makes you perfect for the job.” “The job?”

“I need you to stop Michael. To put an end to him.” His tone was very matter of fact, and it angered Cas to his deepest fibers.

“Right. I haven’t been trying to do that since he came over here in the first place or anything. Let me get right on that.”

To the angel’s surprise, God simply laughed. He bent down slowly, shifting the kitten that Castiel had almost forgotten about into one hand, gathering a few leaves together to make a bed of sorts before sitting the tiny creature down amongst them. He wiggled a bit at the new surface, peaked one blue eye open, and then settled back down into sleep. 

“Your anger will help fuel you. When I made you, I knew that you would be protective to a fault. You will do anything to protect those you love the most, which means you will do absolutely anything to stop Michael. That is why I need you Castiel. You do not know the meaning of quitting, you never have.”

“But I’ve been trying. I’ve exhausted everything that I know how to do. How am I supposed to stop him?” Cas hated the way the words sounded. He felt like a small child, begging. 

“Did I ever say that I wouldn’t offer you any help? There is someone who knows far more about Michael. He’s a… closer relative of his, I suppose. I would like you to speak to him. Meet him in the Amazon as soon as you can get away without anyone noticing. He will help you in your mission, which should remain between you and him. No need for Dean to know, for his own sake.” 

“How am I supposed to get to another continent by tonight?”

“Oh, right. I forget sometimes, about the fall.”

And with a simple snap of his fingers, Castiel’s wings were restored. The feeling was euphoric, like stretching out a muscle that had been cramped for as long as he could remember. He had forgotten what it felt like, to have his feather touched by the wind, not just the cold air on the bare bones of the skeletal remains. He let them stretch to their widest range, relishing in the sensation again. It took him a moment to realize that his grace had been restored to its full capacity as well.

“I wouldn’t keep him waiting long Castiel. As soon as you can get away from Dean with no detection, you should go. I’ll be watching. Remember why you rebelled, and who you can trust. Oh, and if you don’t mind, take care of my friend for me. I think you’ll find him quite endearing, and possibly useful.” 

And with another snap as simple as the first, he was gone. Cas stood there for a moment, unable to make his feet – or his wings now he supposed – move. The whole interaction had come so far from left field he wasn’t sure he even wanted to catch it. But he supposed now he didn’t have much of an option. 

“Well, I guess you’re coming with me since I’m responsible for you now.” Cas sighed, reaching down into the leaves to scoop up the kitten, who meowed very quietly and rested in his hand. He carefully opened one of the pockets of his trench coat, placing the creature in it. He curled up, completely content in his cozy new home. 

Like riding a bike, he tensed the right muscles and suddenly he was up in the air again, flying freely. It was glorious, so glorious that he almost forgot that he was trying to be discreet, and appearing out of thin air was the opposite of that. At the last moment, he veered to the left, landing behind the frame of the van. Good thing too, because Dean was already outside the garage, a small box in his hands.

“There you are. Where the hell did you go?” He said as soon as Cas emerged from behind the vehicle. 

“I was just… walking.” The lie felt odd on his tongue. He hadn’t lied to Dean in a long, long time. 

“Right… Well, you ready to go? I was thinking we should stop for lunch, I’m starvin’.” 

“Sure.”

And so Cas followed Dean back to the impala, coat pocket heavy and mind heavier.

“So. These five dates. You wanna elaborate?” Dean asked. At least, that’s what Cas thought he asked, considering the words were inhibited by an un-humanely large bite of a burger.

“I would assume your thoughts would be the same as mine. You were present during them, after all,” Cas murmured.

“Well, the first one you came up with was way off base. So, I’m curious what you think the other ones are.” Dean continued eating, shoving fries in his mouth at an alarming rate while Cas began to speak.

“First one was the night you came back. The second one was that hunt in Arizona. We left Sam back in the hotel and drove all night, out into the desert. Third was our Halloween movie marathon. Fourth was the hunt in Indiana, though I didn’t enjoy that one particularly.”

“What!? That one was fun! I took you to that weird antique shop and bought you that creepy snow-globe you wanted!” Dean looked honestly offended. 

“Yeah, and you almost got yourself killed the next day. If I had to decide between a Christmas decoration with small woodland creatures and mediocre snow, or avoiding my boyfriend’s death, which one do you think I’d choose? Although, if I’m so worried about your death I suppose I should make you order a salad once in a while. You’re going to get heart disease.” Cas eyed the grease on the plate that had snuck out the back of Dean’s burger. 

“And I need to start burning Sam’s Men’s Digest mags before you get your paws on ‘em,” Dean grumbled. “You only said four dates. What’s the fifth?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but all that came out was a small meow, though it didn’t come from Cas. Unfortunately, Dean heard it, even over the bustle of the diner. Damn hunter’s senses.

“Do you see a cat in here? I swear I just heard one.” He looked around, ducking a little to peak under the nearby tables. 

“No. There is most definitely not a cat in this diner,” Cas panicked. If he could sweat, he would be doing so. In all honestly, he had forgotten about the little creature in his pocket, and he wasn’t sure how Dean would react. He hadn’t really considered it, with everything else he had going on in his brain.

“Castiel.” Dean rarely used his full name. He assumed that if he’d had a middle or last name, Dean would have used those too, for emphasis. “You better not have a cat in your friggin’ lap.”

“I don’t have a cat in my lap.” Cas said proudly, much to Dean’s relief. “He’s in my pocket.”

And as if he understood, the kitten popped his head up, two bright blue eyes wide and awake, and seemingly very interested in all of the patrons in the restaurant. 

“Cas! You can’t just carry kittens around in your pockets. What the hell, man!?”

“But he’s mine. And I love him.” 

“Yeah, alright, I hear yah. But you coulda just told me. He probably belongs at Harry’s anyways; he has a bunch of strays out there. He gives em’ all food, they live happy lives.” Dean was eyeing the little thing, who was paying him no attention, and instead watching the sunlight glint off of the fork resting beside Dean’s plate.

“This one is my responsibility. I’ll care for him. I know you don’t particularly like cats. I also think it’ll be good for Jack to have an animal around.”

The kitten launched itself then, wiggling out of Cas’ pocket and jumping, just barely clearing the table. Its little paws slipped and skidded on its quest towards the shiny object, and Dean snatched it and held it under the table, the waitress missing the incident by just a few seconds.

“Anything else I can get you gentlemen?” She asked, popping over to their table.

“Just the check ple-OW!” Dean said, suddenly bringing his hand up to suck on his finger.

“You alright dear?” The waitress looked concerned, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. 

“Oh yeah, just peachy.” 

Cas felt a tiny furry tail rub against his ankle where his pant leg had ridden up a bit. He looked down to see the kitten pawing at the pattern of bees on his socks. Cas found it immensely amusing.

“That lil son of a bitch bit me!” Dean murmured across the table as soon as the waitress was out of earshot, still cradling his finger.

“Well, you startled him. Here, let me see.” 

Reluctantly, Dean held out his hand, revealing the scratch mark and one tiny wound, with a single drop of blood. Cas swiped a finger over it, healing it instantly.

“Better?” 

“You didn’t need to use your grace for that, it was just a scratch.”

“I have plenty to go around.” Cas immediately regretted the words. He was never going to make it without blowing this whole operation before it had even begun.

“Yeah? Since when.” 

Cas was saved from answering as the waitress came back and set the check down on the table. Dean reached for his wallet, throwing a twenty down before rising quickly from his seat. Cas discreetly reached under the table and scooped up the kitten, who seemed very sad to be moving away from the bee socks he was so intently playing with. By the time Cas made it to the car, Dean already had it started and was tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

“If that thing scratches up my Baby’s leather, we’re leaving him in Nebraska, you hear me?” 

“His name is Bumble, and he won’t mess up your precious car.” Cas had just enough venom into his tone to let Dean know that he was going to give him this one thing, and the hunter seemed to get the message.

“Yell if you see a pet store anywhere. We’ll have to get him some food, and a box.” 

“And toys. Babies need toys, for stimulus.” Dean didn’t have to ask to know that Cas had read that in one of the parenting books he’d studied before Jack had arrived. At least the knowledge was going to get some use. And even if he didn’t want to admit it, seeing his angel in the passenger seat with the tiny kitten in his hands was adorable to say the least. 

Cas sat Bumble down on his lap, only to have him jump again, this time onto the dashboard. The pair watched as he looked out the windshield for a moment, then curled up on the vent, fur blowing slightly from the outpouring heat, his purrs matching up with the rattling of the Legos below him for the rest of the ride.

It was as if Christmas had come early in the bunker for both Jack and Sam. They were head over heels in love with the little fur-ball that was now running around freely as if he owned the place. 

“Bumble! Bumble, come back!” Jack would call out each time the new family pet even went out of eyesight. And he seemed to already know his name, because he would come prancing back with a new toy in his mouth – Cas had essentially bought the entire aisle of fluffy mice and small balls filled with bells. Sam was subtler, but each time Cas would leave the room and come back, he had moved to follow the little guy around, occasionally picking him up to scratch his ears. 

But, even with all the playing and love, when Bumble was ready to sleep, he meandered his way past Jack’s white sneakers and around Sam’s pile of files to follow Dean as he decided to head to bed.

“I thought you were going to put that car part on? And you were going to teach me how to do it.” Cas said, moving to follow him as well.

“I’m beat Cas. Bed is the only thing I’m doin’ right now… unless you have other plans.” Dean raised a suggestive eyebrow, earning an eye roll.

“We’re not having sex tonight. You said you were going to teach me about cars.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but I’ll show you tomorrow, okay? Promise. C’mon, let’s go to bed.” Dean’s eyes went soft, a mixture of sweetness and sleep. It made the pit of guilt in Cas’ stomach swell.

 He was stalling. If Dean went to sleep, he’d have no excuse for staying and not following God’s instructions. He supposed no one was forcing him to partake in this, but a shot at Michael was hard to pass up. And he knew his older brother well enough to know that unless he was dead, he was still a threat to Dean.

Try as he might, Cas couldn’t think of a valid reason to keep Dean up any longer than he already had. So instead, he followed him around closely, even to the bathroom to watch him brush his teeth. He didn’t know what he was going to be told tonight, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t going to be easy, or quick. And that meant more time away from Dean, which was the last thing he ever wanted. When Dean spun around from the sink, he had a frown on his face.

Cas couldn’t help it – he leaned forward, closing the space between them for a quick kiss. It wasn’t their first, but they had only shared a few, and Cas missed just barely, catching the corner of his mouth.

“Try that again,” Dean murmured, a gentle encouragement. Cas leaned in again, kissing him a little harder, getting the angle right that time. He tasted like spearmint and it brought a smile to Cas’ lips, which lasted until Dean effectively kissed it away. Dean never missed. He’d had much more practice than Cas, the angel supposed.

“What’s gotten into you today, huh? You aren’t usually this lovey-dovey.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Cas asked.

“’Course not. I just wanted to make sure that you’re alright. Is it about me not calling you my boyfriend, back at Harry’s? Cause, I was gettin’ there, I swear. It’s just kinda new, and I’m not used to saying ‘my boyfriend’, yah kno- “ Cas cut off his ramble with another kiss. He had already forgotten that interaction entirely anyways.

“Didn’t miss that time. C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” Cas took his lovers hand in reassurance, pulling him gently back to their room. They climbed into bed after shedding a few layers that Cas knew he was going to have to put right back on. He didn’t care. Being close to Dean was all that mattered for the moment. He relished in the weight of him next to him on the bed, and as he began to doze off, Dean curled onto his side, right against Cas. His head rested on his chest, his hand coming up to grasp at Cas’ shirt, as if he was afraid that he would leave in while he slept. And it broke the angel’s heart to know that his fear would come true, at least tonight. 

And so Cas waited until Dean was snoring soundly to move out from underneath him and don his clothes again. He picked Bumble up from where he was laying on some laundry and placed him on the end of the bed, as if the small creature could replace his presence somehow. 

And then, he flew.

chapter three: weapons drawn

any feedback would make my day :’)

#this was kinda a filler chapter #but things shall REVEAL THEMSELVES MWAHAHAHA #also bumble is important but I also love him the mostest SO #hope yall like cats lmao #jad #destiel #destiel fanfiction #deancas

[georgialouisea]

Dadda

Characters - Reader, Dean, Sam, Mary, Castiel and Phoebe.

Summary - Part 10 of my Baby Winchester series! 

Catch up HERE 

——–

Ever since you found out you were pregnant there was one thing you wanted to do, set up an email account for your baby, it seems weird. Yet to you it was the most secure way of giving your unborn child a memory and photo album without the risk of it being stolen. Charlie had performed her magic on it so it was fully encrypted and non accessible unless you had the 5 codes, one for you, Charlie, Phoebe, Sam and Dean. It seemed over the top yet as a hunter you could never be too careful.

Since Phoebe was born you’d sent many an email to her address’ one to send adorable baby photos, the other to inform her of her father’s mark of cain affliction. You still weren’t 100% sure if you’d give Phoebe the hunter’s email address, yet you and other hunters still emailed her, such as Jody, Donna, Claire and occasionally Cas.

You’d sent Phoebe (who before she was born was known as bean) The videos of her baby shower, and shopping videos. Any form of memory you shared with Sam, Dean or your hunting family made it’s way into the emails as you all began to realise time with other hunters was short lived.  

Not once did you log into the email addresses you’d set up for Phoebe, you wanted her to watch the videos and read the emails when she was old enough and safe enough. You feared she would never be safe, when she was born you felt the bunker was the safest place in the world for her to be.

Many a time you’d sat in the bunker with Phoebe as it was the safest place to you. During hunts Dean insisted you stayed home on you sent emails to Phoebe with a few photos or videos attached. When Dean had decided to take the Mark of Cain upon himself you decided to exclude it from the updates you sent Phoebe, not knowing how it would end for Dean and yourself. It was months before you sent a truthful email to Phoebe’s email, you felt guilty for lying to her, yet at the same time you didn’t know what was going to happen to her father. Even now you weren’t too sure how to phrase the email to tell Phoebe her father had the first curse and had subsequently become a demon. Which resulted in over a month of you hiding in Europe with burner phones and fake names.

Once again attempting to send an email to Phoebe informing about the affect the first curse had on Dean was difficult, yet since yourself and Dean had promised to tell Phoebe everything that happened in her life, you felt you needed to include it.

You had left it weeks before informing Phoebe of what had happened with the darkness and her fathers’ obsession with Amara, the weird bond he had with her made you uncomfortable. You left the latest update as a draft as you weren’t too sure as to how the week would go for yourself and Dean. Your plan was to leave it until the end of the week to update Phoebe’s email, yet when you heard of Dean’s new plan which would most likely end in him dying, you ran to him, in an attempt to save him. Save the man you loved.

As you packed up a bag to take Phoebe with you to find Sam and Dean you received a call from Sam.

“Y/N, I don’t know what happened, Dean is gone, he’s disappeared I don’t know if he’s alive or not.” Sam informed you frantically as you took in the information.

You also received a call from Cas. “Y/N. I believe Dean is dead.”

That was it, all he said. The love of your life was dead.

In the hours after those phone call Sam told you he would be heading back to the bunker with Cas. You informed him you’d stayed put yet after 30 minutes and no word from anyone you decided total Phoebe out to a park which was 20 minutes away. You watched her play and squeal with happiness as you helped her down the slide, and pushed her on the swing.

You decided to make your way back to the bunker but before you stopped at the store to get supplies you all needed, everything you were doing was taking your mind off Dean and the situation he could be in. As you reached the store Phoebe began to throw a tantrum over a stuffed toy, having a child seemed to be tougher than you thought yet when your 16 months old throws a tantrum when your boyfriend may have been killed by God’s sister, it seems much tougher.

You weren’t the type of mother to cave to her daughter’s demands, yet today you did. After buying her the stuffed toy you piled back into the car before speeding off back to the bunker. The to the bunker wasn’t fully locked, something which wasn’t uncommon yet with the current situation you found it a little odd.

With Phoebe in one arm and the shopping in the other you began to descend the stairs you dumped the shopping on the war table before realising what was on the floor. Blood. Pulling your gun from your handbag you held Phoebe close to your chest cocking it as you moved to grab your phone with the same hand which held your gun.

“Siri call Sam Winchester.” You spoke into the empty room informing your phone of what to do. After a few dials the phone line went dead. “Siri call Sam Winchester.” You repeated as you worried Sam’s phone was off. Upon no answer you tried Castiel, Dean, Crowley and Rowena for good measure.

“Oh Phoebe what is happening.” You asked your daughter as you rummaged through the bag of shopping to give Phoebe her toy, placing her on the library floor away from the blood you handed her the toy as you ran back up the stairs to lock the bunker door. You must have checked it at least 20 times, the warding too. “Okay Phoebe, Let’s get you somewhere safe and try and get someone to answer their phone.” You smiled at her as you spoke avoiding worrying her, you set off towards her nursery knowing it had further warding, which was the safest place ever.

20 minutes later all of your calls were going unanswered, Phoebe was peacefully playing with her new toy. At this point you’d switched the safety on your gun and your mind was racing trying to think of what to do now. That’s when you heard it, the bunker door slamming shut, someone was here, you scooped Phoebe up in your arms, too afraid to leave her alone. You once again cocked your gun, the gun Dean had given you 3 years ago as a Christmas gift, the gun that never left your side, it was your version of a comfort blanket.

One of the things you’d taught Phoebe from an early age was ‘hush’ with your finger raised to your lips, you’d never wanted to use it but her knowing when to be quiet was vital for a potential situation. One like this, she was smart and took in your facial expression which now was most likely full of fear, she gripped onto the collar of your shirt (technically Dean’s shirt) as she buried her face in your neck. Placing a kiss to the top of her head you made your way out of the bunker towards the noise origin, your gun aimed out before you, the grip you had on Phoebe was strong, the one she had on you even more so.

As you reached the library you saw no one, nothing disrupted, everything as it had been, as you began to walk further into the room the sound of a gun clicking sounded behind you.

“Hands in the air get on your knees.” The female voice ordered behind you.

“Who are you?” You questioned grasping Phoebe tighter to your chest.

“Hands now.” She ordered once more.

You turned to face her, gun still armed and aimed towards her as a barrel of a gun was aimed towards your chest, where Phoebe was. The woman you recognised didn’t drop her gun but took in the child in your arms. “Please let me get her safe and then i’m yours.” You pleaded with the woman as you unarmed your own gun and placed it on one of the library tables.

“Woah woah woah woah woah woah woah, it’s okay, it’s okay. She’s my girlfriend.” Dean placed himself between the gun and you and Phoebe. “Baby.” He gushed as he turned to you, hugging both you and Phoebe before kissing you.

“Dean. You’re alive? Castiel told me you were dead.” You felt tears in your eyes as you spoke.

“I’ll tell you everything, where’s Sam?” Dean questioned you.

“I don’t know he said he was heading her with Cas, I took Phoebe out to the park for a bit and when I got back, no Sam, no Cas and there’s blood on the floor.” You informed Dean of all you knew, as soon as you finished talking Castiel burst through the bunker door.

“CAS.” Yourself and Dean chimed in unison.

“Dean, you’re alive? What happened with the bomb and the darkness?” Castiel asked Dean as he hugged him.

“Long story, Where’s Sam?” Dean questioned in response.

“We came back here there was a woman waiting for us she blasted me away. I don’t know who she was, I don’t know what happened to Sam.” Can filled Dean and yourself in on what had happened to Sam.

“Not an Angel, a Demon, a Woman?” Dean questioned as his brow furrowed.

“Yes.” Cas responded bluntly.

“Angels?” The woman questioned Dean.

“Er yes, this is Castiel. He’s an angel.” Dean replied to the woman. “Y/N, Cas, this is my mother, Mary.” Dean continued to speak.

“How?” You questioned opened mouthed as you finally recognised the woman before you from Sam and Dean’s family photos.

“Amara brought her back.” Dean replied as he glanced over to you and Phoebe.

“Mary, this is Y/N my girlfriend and Phoebe our daughter, your granddaughter.” Dean informed his mother of her new relative. You watched as her eyes grew wide in shock as she looked between you and Phoebe.

“Hi Mary, It’s lovely to meet you, weird but so lovely.” You blurted out. “Sorry I didn’t mean…” You stopped yourself from talking further.

“Dadda.” Phoebe’s innocent voice filled the room as she stretched her arms out towards Dean. Handing her over to Dean you began to question Cas focusing on the missing Winchester instead of the one who was back from the dead.

“When did this happen?” Dean asked Cas as he sat in a chair, Phoebe in his lap.

“9am.” Cas informed Dean as he opened up a laptop and began to search on Castiel’s information.

“Is that a computer?” Mary asked as she watched Dean in awe.

“Yes, I don’t trust them.” Cas replied as he looked at Mary.

“Got something, an SUV ran a red light a few blocks from here.” Dean spoke interrupting the silence. “Not another car for 20 minutes.” Dean added as he zoomed in to get a plate.

You stood watching Dean as he clarified the number plate image, Phoebe grew restless in Dean’s lap as she had a look of a near melt down on her face. “Do you want to show Daddy what you got today baby?” You asked her knowing it was stuffed in the back of your jeans. “Ready?” You teased her as she giggled holding her hands out towards you. As you placed the stuffed teddy in her hands Dean overexaggerated his excitement which only made Phoebe more excited.

“What is that?” Dean questioned Phoebe as he cuddled her tighter to his chest.

In response she shoved the bear in Dean’s face and began to wiggle it around, somewhat taunting him.

“Can Daddy have it?” Dean asked her.

She held it out in her hand, just as Dean was about to grab it she threw it sloppily in your direction.

“Do you think that’s who has Sam?” You asked Dean whilst Phoebe was distracted.

“Yes.” Dean replied.

After a few minutes of planning you had decided to stay home with Phoebe purely for her safety, you wished Dean would do the same, yet he wouldn’t dream of it if Sam was in danger. You waved them off in the early morning. Castiel, Dean and his newly back from the death Mother, that was going to take some getting used to.

Part 11 

Taglist - 

@tas898 @do-you-have-a-trenchcoat @potterheadgirl5 @meghan-brannon @yellowtheremarvelfan @kaedynce @straightestgay-voice @mrsdeanwinchester16

#glouisewrites #baby winchester #baby winchester series #supernatural baby #dean winchester baby #dean winchester #dean #dean winchester fanfiction #Sam and Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #sammy #castiel #mary winchester #mary #baby

[katymacsupernatural]

Careless Chapter 4

Cas x Reader

1400 Words

Summary:  As a hunter traveling with Sam and Dean Winchester, your lives were always at stake, and your emotions were always on edge. However, when they notice you aren’t acting like yourself, they enlist the help of their Angel friend, Castiel, an Angel who you had feelings for.

Catch Up Here: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Cursing the fact that you had left your flashlight back in the Impala, you slowed your running down to a walk, so you didn't trip and crack your head open. Making your way carefully around the marble headstones, you followed the sound of Sam and Dean's voices.

Footsteps crushed the dead grass behind you, making you speed up, moaning in pain when your toe connected with the edge of a stone.

"God Damn it." You muttered under your breath, limping as you moved along. Looking toward the sky, you unconsciously shivered as your old fear of cemeteries hit you with full force. You knew it was stupid, you were a hunter for crying out loud, but there was something about creepy old cemeteries that put you on edge. Especially when you were in them at night, and the trees and headstones casted shadows against the ground, the wind moving the branches like long willowy arms.

Moving past a particularly creepy dead tree, you finally spotted Sam and Dean. Dean was halfway through digging up the grave, while Sam stood watch, waiting for the vengeful spirit to try and stop them.

Knowing they were still too far away to hear you, you kept moving, keeping them in your sight at all times, a sort of a way to calm you down. You could feel the hair on your neck stand up, and the beat of your heart pounding against your ribs. Wishing you had waited for Cas, you turned to see him almost on top of you. He must have caught up while you were watching Sam and Dean.

"Y/N, what were you thinking, taking off like that?" Cas asked. He didn't seem mad, merely curious.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, feeling a little bit ashamed of your childish behavior. "I just knew you were going to want to talk and lay some ground rules about this hunt, and I couldn't handle it. I hate it that you guys are treating me differently."

Cas stayed silent, you could almost see the wheels in his brain turning, and you would have loved to know what was going on in that Angelic brain of his.

When you had given up hope that he would answer, Cas surprised you. He gently touched your face, the touch out of place in the cemetery, making it all the more special. "Y/N, I'm sorry we've been treating you different, watching you closely. But you mean too much to us, to me, and we don't want anything to happen to you. I know you're in a difficult time right now, and I want to help you get through it. Please, let me help." Cas begged, his words raw with emotion.

Tears pricked your eyes, and you hastily wiped them away, not wanting to seem too soft. "Thanks Cas, you'll never know how much that means to me. But right now, I'm pretty sure Sam and Dean need our help."

As soon as the words left your lips, the spirit materialized behind Sam. You were now close enough that Sam heard your scream, turning to look at you in confusion.

"Behind you!" You screamed again, but it was already too late. Watching in fear as the spirit threw Sam, wincing as he landed on the ground with a thud, his head connecting with a tombstone.

Dean, you could see, was almost done digging up the grave, and without Sam conscious, you knew the job of distracting the spirit fell to you.

"Cas, go get the salt and lighter fluid!" You ordered, before grabbing Sam's discarded shotgun.

"But what are you..." Cas started to say, but you held your hand up, stopping him.

"Cas, please. I need to make sure no one else gets hurt." With that, you turned your back on Cas, running over to check on Sam. Kneeling down, you placed two fingers on his neck, breathing a sigh of relief when you felt a pulse. You checked him over, wincing at the giant knot forming on the back of his head.

Knowing the only thing you could do, you stood back up, keeping your eyes peeled for any sight of the spirit. You spotted him next to Dean, a sad figure, one that broke your heart. What used to be a young teenage boy, was now a monster intent on revenge, his face pale with dark circles under his eyes. His clothes were in tatters, his eyes cold and empty, not caring who got in his way.

Raising the shotgun, you aimed it directly at the boy, pulling  the trigger, the salt round flying directly into his chest, causing him to vanish in a cloud of smoke. Knowing you had given every one at least thirty seconds of relief, you turned to check on Sam again. His color seemed to be improving, and you knew he would be waking back up any minute.

Moving to stand up, you froze when the hairs on your neck stood, the feeling of being watched making your hand shake slightly. A pair of blood shot brown eyes stared down at you, filled with so much hatred it made your heart hurt. Unsure what to do, you slowly lifted the gun, hoping he wouldn't notice the movement. Of course your luck ran dry, and he looked down at the gun, before sending it flying across the clearing, smashing it into bits against a headstone.

Not knowing what else to do, you tried to reason with the spirit. "You don't have to do this. It's not going to make you feel any better." You searched his face, but his expression hadn't changed, so you tried harder. "We can help. Help you move on, to a better place. You don't deserve this, please let us help."

His face seemed to soften, but only for a second, before his hand was around your neck, squeezing tight enough black spots filled your vision. "But I have to. They teased me, and bullied me. They need to be taught a lesson."

You were grasping his arm, trying to get it off of you. Your chest hurt, and you knew you only had seconds left before unconsciousness consumed you.

As your vision turned black, you saw an iron bar swinging by, and the ghost vanished, dropping you to your knees. Taking in deep, painful breaths, you felt Castiel's arms supporting you.

"Y/N, are you alright?" Cas asked, worry for you evident in his voice. Standing, you nodded, not wanting to test your bruised throat. Turning, you noticed Dean was done digging the grave, and was making his way toward where Cas had dropped the salt in his hurry to get to you.

"Hey Cas, where did the lighter go?" Dean asked, and Cas moved away from you, going to help Dean. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed movement, and watched in horror as the spirit moved towards Cas. Opening your mouth, you tried to scream in warning, but your throat was too battered, and only a little squeak come out.

Giving yourself no time to think, you charged forward. Everything felt like it was happening in slow motion, the spirit's arm slowly moving towards Cas, while you felt like you were moving in quick sand.

You watched as Cas noticed the spirit, standing frozen as it glided towards him. Before it could wrap it's hand around Castiel's heart, you were there, diving forward, arriving just as the spirit shot it's hand forward.

Looking down in horror, you watched as the spirits hand disappeared in you, all the way up to its wrist, before an agony unlike anything you had ever felt crippled your body. The only thing holding you up was the hand wrapped around your heart. Wondering if this is what a heart attack would feel like, you could only stand there, tears streaming down your face. Behind you, you could hear voices, their words garbled.

Once again, black dots clouded your vision, and the pain slowly faded away, leaving behind an empty numbness. Exhausted beyond belief, your eyes slowly drifted shut, and in the back of your mind, you knew that you weren't ready to die. All those times you had been so reckless, so careless with your life, you had never considered the fact that you really didn't want to leave. Because of Cas, you felt like you had something to live for, but now it was too late.

Wishing you had had an opportunity to tell Cas before, you tried to fight the darkness, but it was too strong. As your body succumbed to the pain, you saw a glimpse of flames, before you knew no more.

Read Chapter 5

Tags: @maybe-a-winchester @riversong-sam @bemself123 @fandomsanarchy @emmelineparker308 @summer-binging-spn @nerdybookwormsinger @generalgoldfishldrm @just-another-busy-fangirl @saoirsewhittle @the-bottom-of-the-abyss

#cas x reader #careless #castiel x reader #supernatural x reader