#Regarding the blood loss though there is a little notion in my head that Crowley was just lying that Cas would bleed out and die

[castielmacleod]

Hi! Have you already made a post about the parallel of both Crowley and Cas digging a bullet (specifically targeting them) out of their bodies to triumph over their enemies?

I feel like I've seen it.

Hello! I have not, though it’s neat that they both do that! I think it’d be fun to pretend Crowley got the idea from Cas in the first place, after learning what happened to Ion, before getting the chance to use it himself. Although if I remember correctly, Abaddon also frees herself from the devil’s trap bullet by digging it out (with her severed hand no less—VERY metal of her) so maybe it’s just the thing to do lol. Nothing tops Cas sticking his bullet in his opponent’s eye though, that was wicked clever.

It’s interesting that Abaddon wasn’t bothered that Crowley might attempt to free himself in more or less the same fashion she herself so recently accomplished, though I think she only wanted to slow him down rather than actually keep him in place permanently? So maybe it wasn’t a high priority for her anyway. Or maybe the writing is just bad 😭

Anyway if that post about Cas and Crowley’s tactical similarities does exist and you’re able to find it again, let me know! I’d love to have a look.

#Ask #I’m also curious about what kind of injuries will actually kill an angel…. like being stabbed with an angel blade obviously #Getting shot in the head with an angel blade bullet will also do it #But getting shot in the stomach won’t. At least not immediately? Crowley implies Cas will bleed out but #I’m not sure how blood loss would kill an angel exactly? #Maybe blood loss specifically from an angel blade bullet wound??? Lol #And then of course Cas is able to kill Ion by pushing the angel bullet into his eye #Maybe that counts as “stabbing” the way it does with an angel blade? #Or are angels especially vulnerable through their vessels’ eyes? #That might be kind of a cool weakness for angels to have actually. At least in a headcanon sense #Regarding the blood loss though there is a little notion in my head that Crowley was just lying that Cas would bleed out and die #Because Crowley deliberately spared Cas’ life already (when he honestly had no reason to) #(The tablet could have easily been taken off of Cas’ corpse) #But Cas would certainly know better than to think he could die from his vessel merely losing some blood. Even if it still hurt #So maybe Crowley was just saying that to make it seem like “oh I only ‘spared’ your life so you could bleed out painfully” #And not because he actually still cares in his own twisted way #But those are the c/c brainworms talking for sure lol #Anyway.

[salmonthestoryteller]

Vessel

A Supernatural Fanfic

Warnings: Spoilers for…well, several seasons up through the season finale of 12.

Castiel has died several times and been stabbed even more times than he can count. As deaths go, being stabbed by Lucifer is not as painful as several deaths that came before. There is emptiness for a time, but whether it was mere moments or millennium he couldn’t say. Physically there is still an emptiness in what follows but there are feelings. Sorrow at first, and longing. Anger and pain. Resignation. There is something familiar about it all. It brings purgatory to mind. Dean’s nightly prayers, filled with so many things over the course of that year. He begins to wonder if what he is feeling is Dean’s prayers again. The emotions reaching him through the bond they share to wherever he is residing, even if the words are lost. He isn’t sure, but even when the emotions are angry and bitter there is a comfort to their presence.

The first time Castiel wakes up he is in the bunker. More specifically, he is in Dean’s room and he can’t remember how he got there. Moving his body feels awkward and strange. Like it is moving differently than normal. It reminds him of getting used to a new vessel, but he hasn’t had a new vessel in years. He worries he has been gone for millenia, but the room looks the same. No sign of dust or disuse. No smell of mildew and age beyond what the bunker already had. He doesn’t have time to contemplate it, though, because someone is there. A teenage boy, watching him cautiously.

“Hello.”

Castiel stares at him. “Hello?” His voice sounds different and something niggles at his mind, but he can’t give it his full concentration with a stranger before him.

The boy’s lips quirk. “That is still the term.” He offers.

“Who are you?”

His face falls, and Castiel has the distinct impression he has hurt his feelings. “Don’t you recognize me?”

“I’m sorry, everything feels a little off.”

“Oh, yes, that’s expected.” The boy nods, features brightening again. “Don’t worry, you’ll adjust.”

Castiel wants to ask what he’s supposed to be adjusting to, but the more pressing concern is who this boy is, or what he is. “You still haven’t told me who you are.”

“Oh, sorry, Cas. I can call you Cas, right?” He smiles again, before continuing on as if the answer is unnecessary. “Anyhow, it is our first physical meeting. My mom named me Jack.” His eyes glow gold, and from there on out he has way more things to worry about than why being in his body again feels odd.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” The demons hunting Jack sneer at him.

“Heard a rumor you boys were MIA.”

They seem shocked when he smites them with an ease he hasn’t had in years. He isn’t any less shocked, though, so he doesn’t contemplate it long.

Jack is bouncing in place. “Thanks, I haven’t quite figured out stuff yet. If I tried to smite them, I might have blown up the city.”

A part of Castiel runs cold at the casual way he says it. He reminds himself that Jack didn’t want to blow up the city. So that it is a good thing. “We should have you practice somewhere safe. Away from where others could be harmed.”

Jack nods. “That’s a good idea. When I figure out a place, I’ll call you, okay? In the meantime, you should rest.”

Castiel opens his mouth to tell him he has no need to rest, when a sudden weariness overtakes him. The next thing he remembers they are back at the bunker, and Jack is helping him lie down on Dean’s bed. He tries to tell him he has a room, and bed, of his own at the bunker, but before he can he sinks back into the emptiness.

It isn’t as empty now. It has grown lighter, and the emotions are not always so heavy. At times now there is amusement, and excitement. Protectiveness, and determination. Happiness, though still tinged with an ache. A loss of something so very vital. He is certain it is Dean, and once or twice he wants to reach out and try to make himself known. He hesitates, though, uncertain now where he is or how he is sensing these things.

Jack awakens him next not for protection, but to help him practice. Apparently being born with unfathomable powers does not mean one can wield them well. They spend the day together, and Castiel is surprised to find he is hungry. Jack and he get burgers, and then they return to the bunker. He asks about Sam and Dean, and Jack assures him they are alive and well. He wants to ask more but the weariness is back. This time he is still awake enough to insist on going to his own room. Jack hesitates, but complies.

The emptiness is much lighter now. Awash in streams of glowing color and dark spiderweb cracks of black. Happy emotions make the colors glow and dance, darker emotions send inky tendrils up from the cracks. Pain flares once, and there is a terrible sound as a new spiderweb crack appears, bleeding red into the space. Unable to stop himself, Castiel reaches out to touch it, trying heal the wound. The flood of emotions that follows is almost overwhelming, but he holds on. Watches as the bleeding red slowly eases. The crack remains, though. A painful visual reminder of what he felt through it. Something niggles at his understanding again, but he pushes it away.

Jack and he spend several days practicing his powers. After the first couple times Jack insists on three square meals. Castiel wonders if Jack needs the food or just likes the food. He has a feeling much more time has passed than single nights during his periods of rest but Jack avoids the question. He finds no phone in his pocket, and there are no newspapers in the wilderness where Jack takes them. He thinks to ask the day and date of their waitress once, but worries the question might sound odd and draw attention to them. He worries about Sam and Dean, about the emotions he knows are Dean’s that he feels when he rests. Jack seems to know where they are and how they are doing, but references little else. Jack always returns him to the bunker, though, so they must know he is there, right? He knows all the questions have an answer, but it eludes him.

He dreams of Dean one night, or perhaps Dean dreams of him. There is no fishing dock this time, they are in the bunker. He wonders if it represents Dean’s notion of safety transferring from a vague childhood memory to the place he currently regards as his home and sanctuary. He doesn’t have long to contemplate it, though.

“You feathery son-of-a-bitch.” The words bely the fierce hug he envelopes him in. Castiel feels a sense of relief crash over him as he hugs him back. He doesn’t want to let go, but all too soon Dean is pulling back and he is forced to as well.

“Hello, Dean.” The words feel like a balm to his very being to speak again.

“Cas…” Dean’s voice cracks. “Where the hell are you, man? Where the hell have you been?”

Confused, because Jack always returned him to the bunker, Castiel feels his head tilt. “What do you mean?”

“Lucifer stabbed you, Cas.”

“I remember that.”

“You were dead. Truly dead. Gone.”

“For a time I was in a void of sorts.”

“But I… I’ve felt you. For months now.”

“Months.” By his own time awake he has been back for mere days. A week at most. Something is very wrong. “But I… I always return to the bunker.”

He can feel the wariness in Dean, and though the hunter’s face closes he can feel his alarm. His suspicion. Feel it like an almost physical force.

“We burned your body Cas. A hunter’s funeral. It… You were gone. You can’t be here. Not physically.”

“But I was. I am. I fought demons, Dean, I…”

Things begin to add up in his head. Faster and faster. Missing time. The way he could feel Dean’s emotions. The dark void and how it had changed, filled. The shimmering colors; the spidery black cracks. The familiar sight of it. Even in hell, with blood dripping from his knife, the soul of the righteous man had been the most beautiful piece of his father’s creation that Castiel had ever seen.

“Cas? Cas!”

The hunter’s shout drew back his attention, but he could only shake his head in denial. “Dean, I… it’s not possible. It’s not.”

“Cas, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Even Lucifer needs… even Lucifer needs…” He can’t get any further. He doesn’t need breath but feels short of it somehow. The bunker room begins to fade.

“Cas? Cas!”

“Dean!”

Castiel opens his eyes to find Sam leaning over him. He seems relieved to see him awake, but Castiel has no time to dwell on why. His mind is still in denial and he pushes Sam away, running on legs that have grown less awkward to move as the days passed - just like with any new vessel - to the bathroom, seeking the mirror inside.

Green eyes reflect back at him.

No phone in the pocket of his jacket. Not his trench coat. A jacket that nows he knows was painfully familiar. No phone, no wallet. Jack must have carefully removed both each time before bringing him to consciousness.

“Dean?” Sam is in the doorway, but he isn’t calling for his brother. He is staring right at him. Jack is hiding behind him. Castiel can’t see his face. Can’t tell what emotion is on it. Guilt? Confusion? Disinterest? Benign? Malignant?

Even Lucifer needed permission to inhabit a vessel.

“Jack, what have you done?”

Fini?

Like everyone else, I am emotionally wrung out after the last few episodes. So many character deaths in so little time.

Despite how few episodes she had, Eileen’s death hit me hard. I have seen people say her death was meaningless, but seeing as the boys wouldn’t have caught on to the BMoL as fast without her death followed by her letter to them, I disagree. She went out like the hunter she was, but damn I am going to miss her.

I also sadly feel this is the end for Crowley and Rowena. Wish we had gotten some of Rowena’s battle with Luci, but Crowley’s death was almost bad ass enough to make up for it. He even said goodbye. Still, where will I get all my snark from next season? Darn it, they better give me someone really good to fill the void. (*hintBobbyhint*)

Castiel’s death also seems final, seeing as he took an angel blade to the heart. However, there remains his connection with Jack to consider. Plus his promise to Kelly to make sure Jack would be both safe and someone she would be proud of. Can’t manage either one dead. I also kept thinking of how he had healed Dean in 12x23 and the glow had hung around for a moment. Not normal.

So, I thought - what if he is riding shotgun in Dean? Angels can’t do so without permission, but Jack can do whatever he wants. Including put his chosen protector into any vessel he wants. The plot bunny refused to leave me alone until I wrote it. So not exactly a fix-it as much as an educated guess on what might happen next season.

I leave if Jack is good or bad ambiguous. I have a feeling that is the ultimate question of next season as well. Kelly recorded that video for a reason, after all. I am betting Jack’s own decision on the matter will probably come down to that video.

#spn fanfic #fanfic #spn #supernatural #spn coda #castiel #dean winchester #destiel #spn 12x23