#and cas was just like 'youre going to kill dean (his dog) and i cannot allow that. keep your army' and just bounced | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twofrontteethstillcrooked · 3 years

Text

1 Oct. Suptober: Harvest

"Going to have a proper harvest for once," she said. The other witch laughed in agreement. "Think of the price we'll fetch for pure angel grace."

post-15x09 au snippetfic; deancas, samwena

"Get the fuck away from him," Cas rasped, and it was the swear as much as the simple fact of Cas being alive that caused Dean to gasp and open his eyes.

He'd screwed them shut in anticipation of a killing blow that never landed. The witch had reeled around and away from Dean toward Cas, and the dagger in her hand glinted in the one of bar of light that was piercing through the boarded up basement window.

Dungeon window, more like. Cave window. The darkness made it difficult to determine where exactly Cas was in relation to Dean. A few feet away? Way on the other side of the room, maybe still half slumped against the spiderwebbed stone wall? Dean tried, and failed, to stand. Something was oozing into his right eye; his legs wobbled like the floor was made of bouncy house.

"Cas," he said once without the sound reaching his own ears. He fell backwards, wooden slats splintering on his weight.

In the dusty beam, the tip of Cas's angel blade blazed like a falling star that blinked out as the second witch holding it stalked into the dark again.

Dean heard her guttered low cackle, as though she were a radio station the dial had finally properly tuned. His whole body went cold.

"Going to have a proper harvest for once," she said. The other witch laughed in agreement. "Think of the price we'll fetch for pure angel grace."

"And feathers," the other crowed, before beginning a frantic chant in a language Dean did not recognize.

"Feathers, yessss." The witch's hiss poured like venom into Dean's veins.

His eyes had adjusted only enough to see the angel blade raised high, and, somehow, the shadow of Cas's wings spread singed and mangled on the wall.

"Or perhaps both wings."

No, Dean thought. No, no, no, no. Please, no.

"We can hack them off at the--"

She'd stopped talking because her head was whizzing past Dean's own. He might have yelped in the effort to dodge it. Overhead fluorescent light banged into the room. Rowena stood in the door, arm raised like she was hoisting an invisible car over a fence; the witch who still had a head had crumpled to the ground. Sam stood over the beheaded body, breathing heavily and wild eyed as a banshee, small sword still aloft dripping red.

The witch on the floor squeaked once, like a mouse stepped on by a particularly pointed heel, and fell silent.

From beneath her now unmoving form, what seemed like a mere pool of ink spread and spread until it almost touched Dean's boot.

He couldn't catch his breath. The room was quiet like a roar and he could not stand up. He thought to rub at the wetness in his eye and found the substance was sticky. Pressing harder made fire race into his eye socket and up his temple.

Sam was moving towards him, weapon thrown down with a clatter, but Cas arrived first, his face, wracked with fear and dappled with blood across his cheekbone, swimming into view as he knelt.

If his was the last face Dean was ever to see, Dean could take some comfort in it. He refused to close his eyes again.

"Hey, buddy," Dean said, smiling lopsided and rueful.

Cas's hand fell to cup Dean's jaw like a blessing; it turned out Dean was lying down, though Dean had no memory of seeking earth.

Cas's other thumb rubbed across Dean's forehead like he was tracing runes onto Dean's skin. Dean felt something crackle beneath his bones: for a split-second, his heart stopped, suspended in pain. The next second was like being punched out of a cannon -- he sat up and nearly knocked his newly healed skull directly into Cas's.

"Dean," Cas breathed in relief despite the pallor of his complexion and the way his hands shook as they pulled away from Dean. Then: "Thank you," he told Sam, who nodded and hauled him to his feet by the elbows before reaching to do the same for Dean.

Sam patted Dean on the shoulder. Rowena stepped around the puddle of witch and grinned her smug grin.

Cas looked at Dean like he might vanish and Dean returned the stare until he had to look away or… Or.

There was crimson on the sleeve of Cas's trench, in a crease.

Rowena and Sam collected the angel blade, the dagger, the gory sword. Dean collected himself. He followed Cas's heavier than usual trudge up the stairs and into the coming dusk. The ache of wanting to gather Cas into his arms followed him all the way back to the motel.

In the other room, Sam was talking to Jack on the phone while Rowena hooted. Well, that's what it sounded like she was doing anyway, and since there was a child in the mix, albeit a twenty-something toddler who was 90 miles away, hooting was by far the least concerning noise she could have been making.

Not that Dean in any way was going to ponder what other sounds she might choose to unleash in a room also containing his brother. He sat on the edge of the bed nearest the bathroom and stared at the three jack o'lantern sized pumpkins that he and Cas had bought at a roadside stand a few hours before the case went witch-shaped. He envisioned the pumpkins with toothy grins and chose not to think about anything else with such effort it was a miracle he wasn't carving the gourds psychically.

Cas came out of the bathroom sans trenchcoat -- which was to say, almost naked -- and with a clean face. He sat down beside Dean carefully. "How are you feeling?" He looked at Dean with soft eyes, like Dean was the only concern worth voicing.

After a moment, Cas sighed into the space Dean was supposed to have filled.

"I guess," Dean started. He gave his own sigh. "We've fixed a lot of things, recently, haven't we?"

Cas tipped his head, waiting for Dean to continue.

"Like. Chuck's out there. But. Jack has his soul. Rowena isn't dead. You don't have a deal with the freakin Empty dogging your heels bad as a pack of hellhounds." Dean curled his fingers like his hands were going to betray him somehow; his throat felt full of glass. "You gotta stop saving me, man."

Cas took a breath like Dean had struck him. A variety of memories of actually hitting Cas -- blood crisscrossing, bruises blooming -- flashed through Dean so quickly he almost retched.

He was trying to keep his mouth closed and his treacherous stomach obedient when Cas said, "You cannot ask me not to help when I can still help."

"You're the one who said I wasn't listening about your powers--" He held up a hand against the protest he could see Cas about to make. "And you were right. I dunno what to do about it, but I know you havin' to heal my dumb ass nine times a week isn't makin' things better."

Dean could see Cas's eyes were wet.

The shards in Dean's throat made it hard to speak. "You're worth more to us, to me, than just what you can do as a powered-up angel." He nudged Cas's knee with his own. "You know that, right? Not that I'm not grateful as hell for you fixing me up tonight, 'cause I am. Grateful, I mean."

He looked at Cas, whose exhaustion seemed to be draped around him like a cloak. Dean was tired too, and not just from the major brain injury he'd sustained earlier. He’d wasted so much time not saying certain things, not letting certain things happen; he’d protected the wrong things, maybe, or maybe the right thing the wrong ways.

Maybe he could blame lingering effects, illusory or otherwise, on what he chose to do next.

Cas, he prayed, you might have died tonight. We… I. I almost lost you again.

A prayer continued, whispered: Please let me hold you.

Beside him, Cas startled, looked over at him. Searched Dean's eyes and shook his head just a little, as though he could not believe what he'd heard -- as though having hoped, but misheard, was too agonizing a possibility to endure.

"Please," Dean said, sliding an arm around Cas's back, sliding himself closer on the mattress until he'd vanished the space between them.

Cas turned into Dean's arms. "I almost lost you again tonight too." His voice brimmed with tears. He hooked his chin over Dean's shoulder and Dean soothed his hands over the blades of Cas's shoulders. He thought of the shadow of those majestic, tattered wings, and held on more tightly.

He and Cas rested like that, trembling, for what seemed like an hour or more, neither of them willing to let go. When sitting upright became less comfortable, they reclined together on top of the polyester comforter patterned in pinecones. Cas tucked himself into the hollow of Dean's body, as though he had done it before somewhere other than in Dean's imagination. Dean pressed his face into Cas's soft hair and let his eyes burn as they would.

None of it solved anything; it was simply more right than anything Dean had felt in a very long time.

#spn #fic #deancas #suptober21 #suptober #destiel

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goldenraeofsun · 3 years

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There is Only Try, Part I

“Love spell,” Rowena proclaims as she glides down the stairs to the Bunker floor like it’s her personal ballroom. Her midnight blue floor-length gown and elaborately curled hair look especially out of place - Dean’s pretty sure his shirt has pizza stains from at least three different pizzas. The shirt is red, so at least two of them don’t count.

Behind her on the stairs, Sam chokes.

Rowena turns around to face him. “And I thought this was going to be a challenge,” she chides. “Really, Samuel?”

“What do you mean, ‘love spell’?” Dean demands with a fleeting glance at Cas, who’s gone red in the face. Dean doesn’t blame him - between the hooker with the daddy problems and the stabby reaper, he’d be leery of anything vaguely love-shaped too.

“We called you because we need to translate the runes on a cursed box,” Sam says slowly. “We think it’s in some sort of cipher, since even Cas can’t get a read on it.”

“Well, did Tweety Pie touch the box?”

“No,” Cas says, offended.

Dean nudges him with his elbow, saying in an undertone, “C’mon, like it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Dean.”

Dean takes in Cas’s unamused face and scowls at Rowena's tinkling laugh. “Okay, Sabrina, what the fuck do you mean by ‘love spell’?”

“I mean the angel’s been cursed with a love spell,” Rowena says with deliberate slowness, like she’s giving a command to a particularly stupid lap dog. “Was it not obvious?”

Dean glances at Cas, horror trickling down his spine. “No.”

“Hmph,” Rowena sniffs. “Men really are oblivious to matters of the heart.” She waves her hand again, eyes glimmering violet. “Like I thought,” she continues, placing both hands on her hips, “A jardin d’amour.”

“A garden of,” Sam pauses, clearly trying not to laugh, “love?”

“A very basic love spell,” Rowena says disdainfully. “The lass didn’t seem to have any imagination.”

“The witch we ganked two weeks ago was a dude,” Dean says. A beat. “A man witch.”

Sam snorts.

“There you go,” Rowena says, lifting her nose into the air. “Most men don’t have that innate knack for the magical arts.” She turns to Sam, giving him the most obvious come-hither look Dean has ever seen. “There are some obvious exceptions, of course.”

Okay, Dean needs Rowena and her heebs with a large dosing of the jeebs out of the Bunker, stat.

“It starts as a tiny seed, a wee obsession,” Rowena explains, “and grows and grows until it consumes you.” She squints, wiggling her fingers, and Dean just barely stops himself from jumping in front of Cas on instinct. “I’d say the spell’s gone about halfway through its course.”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest. He throws another calculating glance at Cas. “He’s not writing love songs or grabbing a boombox, so he’s obviously not cursed.”

Cas, still suspiciously silent, shoves both his hands in his pockets and stares hard at a spot of the floor between his feet.

“Oh, but he is, darlin’,” Rowena exclaims delightedly. “I can see it clear as day. Look!”

Cas sneezes as the magic washes over him for a third time, and now they all can see the purple sparkles - really, Rowena? - hovering in the air around him.

“Okay,” Dean makes a face, “Now I’m confused.”

“Not for the first time, isn’t that right?” Rowena says with faux-sympathy.

Dean glowers. He turns to Cas. “Come on, she’s making this all up. You’d know if you got dosed with Love Potion No. 9.”

“I-” Cas says, his gaze skittering from Dean to Rowena and back again. He looks… caught.

“Wait,” Dean thunders, taking a step forward, “You knew?”

“I,” Cas starts haltingly, “had suspected.”

“And you didn’t think you’d tell us you’d been whammied?”

Cas shrugs. “It doesn’t seem to be affecting me at all. My vessel is functioning normally.”

“Sure, because you’re such an expert on normal-”

Cas’s eyes flash. “It didn’t seem relevant considering everything else-”

“What d’you mean every-?”

“Kelly Kline - Lucifer, again - the British Men of Letters - take your pick,” Castiel retorts heatedly.

“We’ve got that under control-”

“Killing a child is not ‘under control’-”

“It is if the kid’s the literal spawn of Satan-”

“I never thought I’d hear Dean Winchester defending the murder of an inno-”

Dean throws up his hands. “Did you miss my ‘spawn of Satan’ comment?”

“No,” Cas says, his expression as stony as the Bunker’s foundations, “my hearing is excellent.”

Off to the side, Rowena mutters in a carrying stage-whisper, “I can see how a wee curse like this is the least of your problems.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Sam says, running a weary hand down his face.

Dean rounds on them. “What?”

“Do you want me to remove the love spell or not?” Rowena asks, eyebrows raised. “My time is precious, you know. I don’t live to be at the Winchesters’ beck and call.”

“For the last fucking time, it’s not a goddamn spell!” Dean explodes. “Whatever it is, he is not in love. He hasn’t been acting any different.”

Rowena beams. “Well now, if he were already in love, it would have no outward effects. He’d…” Her expression becomes stomach-turningly sly, “...function normally, so to speak.”

Cas’s mouth sets in a firm line. As Dean goggles at him, Cas demands, “Remove the spell, now.”

Dean swallows. Cas can’t be - she can’t be implying - that’s impossible. He’s an angel. They don’t feel things like that.

Do they?

“I’m going to need some ingredients,” Rowena says, looking up to Sam. “Where might they be?”

Sam gestures her forward. “Back in the store room, I’ll show you.”

Rowena pats him lightly on the arm. “What a gentleman,” she simpers as Dean pretends to hurl behind her back.

Dean can’t bring himself to speak until they’re both out of earshot, their footsteps fading off into the distance. He turns to Cas, trying to keep his voice detached and failing miserably. “So, you think it got you after all?”

Cas looks away. “I know it has.”

“Oh.” Dean picks up his empty whiskey glass. He runs a hand down his face, trying to scrub away whatever he’s feeling. It doesn't work. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. Fucking witches.”

“I - I could use one as well,” Cas says to Dean’s surprise.

* * *

“So, uh, who’s the lucky chick?” Dean asks as he makes a beeline for the liquor cart in the library off the war room. He grabs an additional glass for Cas and the bottle of Jack, tips the bottle down his own throat to get them started, and pours them out a few fingers.

Cas takes his drink, jaw clenching. He doesn’t look like a dude head over heels. He looks like his normal sleep-deprived, tax accountant self. He stays silent.

Dean thumps heavily down into a chair. “Have we met her?” he prompts because he’s nothing if not a masochist at heart.

“You could say so, in a sense.” Cas raises his eyes to meet Dean’s, face softening, and Dean’s going to hurl for real this time. Cas continues, “There’s not much in my life I keep from you.”

Dean swallows against the ball of self-loathing and disgust clogging his throat. “Some lady angel, then? Been dreaming about plucking her harp strings?”

Cas scowls into his drink. “No.”

“Not an angel?”

“Not a lady,” Cas says, his voice almost unbearably stiff. “And not an angel, either. A human - a beautifully flawed human.”

Dean has no words to say to that, so he drinks. Cas has probably met thousands of people - nice, normal people who aren’t fucked up in the head from ganking monsters their whole lives - since he’s been on Earth. God knows, he hasn’t been plastered to Dean’s side the entire time. Lately, Dean can’t even come up with a good excuse to get him to stay for more than a day or two at most.

“A guy, then,” Dean says to make sure they’re on the same page - because last time he checked, waves of celestial intent cared less about acing a Gender and Sexuality 101 class and more about whether a meatsuit could withstand a holy oil molotov cocktail.

Cas nods, his eyes narrowing. “Your opinion on homosexual relationships is part of the reason I’ve never brought it up before.”

“Hey, I don’t judge,” Dean says, not entirely truthfully. He holds his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Homo it up, man. Love is love.”

Cas’s nose wrinkles, but he doesn’t comment on Dean’s hamfisted attempt at proving his acceptance of ‘alternative lifestyles’ as Dad might’ve put it charitably one time. “It’s complicated,” Cas adds, like any part of this fucked-up situation could fit under a goddamn Facebook status.

Dean hitches a grin on his face that probably wouldn’t fool a blind person. “So, apart from that, how come you’ve never come to me for help? I don’t wanna brag, but I’m kind of an expert in hookups. Sam’s kind of hopeless. He can’t get a chick into bed without her dying on him.”

Cas knocks back his glass. “I didn’t want to bother you with my feelings.”

Dean automatically grimaces at the mention of feelings. But, hell, he’s not a teenage girl. He can man up and be there for his best friend.

He has to - Cas hardly asks him for anything anymore.

Sure, Cas didn’t exactly ask Dean for anything this time around, but Dean can read between the lines. Now that he’s copped to what’s going on beneath Cas’s still waters, he can see how deep those feelings run. Especially if what Rowena’s saying is true and a love spell is barely a drop in the bucket.

“And, regardless, your ‘hookup’ skills wouldn’t be relevant, anyway,” Cas says quietly, lowering his hands. “I’m not interested in… coupling.”

Dean wrinkles his nose. “That reaper really screwed you over, didn’t she? Look, just because you got shanked, doesn’t mean all sex winds up with an angel blade-”

“I misspoke,” Cas says over him. “What I mean is, I would rather have no sexual relations at all if I cannot have all of him: mind, body, and soul.”

Trust Cas to spout the most profound cheese Dean has ever heard.

And also, what the fuck? Dean can’t get behind that idea at all. Dean’s always been a take what you can get kind of dude. He had to be, with what he has to work with - a pretty face, a killer's instinct, and an inability to have a normal relationship if his goddamn life depended on it.

Like, if Dean had gotten the slightest whiff that Cas was down with gettin’ down and dirty with Dean as his last hurrah (which of course he didn’t), Dean would never have bothered with that stupid den of inequity. As hilarious as the outcome was, he would have gone for a little something-something for himself before the end of the world.

Of course, Dean wasn’t in love with Cas yet then. Whenever it came to mind, it was just a fun thought experiment, an idle what if for him to think about during a dry spell. Like his fantasies about fucking Ginger from Gilligan’s Island. Or hatesex with Bela Talbot.

But none of that mattered because every step of the way from Castiel, mighty Angel of the Lord, to Cas, their friendly neighborhood angel-man, he never hinted he’d be down for a quick roll in the hay... or something more serious.

Dean remembers very clearly: Anna fell to experience emotions, even the bad ones.

And Dean’s not an idiot - Cas obviously experiences emotions now. Dude’s been through too much not to feel something. But Dean’s never deluded himself that they could ever include all the romantic lovey-dovey, chick-flick moments crap.

Family love, sure. Cas might love all his haloed siblings. Cas has been around for all the Top 10 worst decisions that are the Winchesters’ version of brotherly devotion. Cas even said the big L-word out loud himself, when he was bleeding out in that barn a month ago.

But romantic love? The big kahuna L-O-V-E?

Dean always thought scaling Mount Everest with a plastic beach shovel would be easier than convincing an angel to feel that way about anyone. Cas is a wave of celestial intent; waves of celestial intent don’t do anything as human, as stupid, as fall in love.

But apparently they do.

So maybe that’s why Cas has always been so hard to pin down, so eager to leave Dean all the time. He’s been off pining after this mystery guy.

Awesome.

Cas heaves a weighty sigh and finishes off his own glass of whiskey. Without another word, he half raises from his chair, reaching around the table lamp, to pour them both a second round. “I suppose there is a bit of a relief in finally saying it,” he says in a low voice. “I can’t be with him, but there is a certain amount of happiness in it being known, just being seen.”

Dean wastes no time in downing half his new drink. Throat burning in warning, he forces out, “Why - why can’t you? You’re a freaking angel - thought you could have anyone.” Dean frowns. “He’s not a civilian, is he?”

Talk about a recipe for disaster: Cas plus normal person equals uncomfortable questions and fucked up babysitting gigs.

Cas’s eyes widen. Almost imperceptibly, he shakes his head. “Ah, no, not really.”

“So he knows about angels.”

Cas gives a slow nod. “He doesn’t have a very high opinion of them, though,” he says ruefully, staring down into his glass. “They’ve made his life very difficult over the past few years.”

Dean scoffs, “He can join the club.”

Cas flinches.

“Hey, no,” Deans says quickly, “Not you.”

Cas raises head, his eyes unbearably bleak. “Why not me? I was the one who set the Leviathans and angels loose on humanity to wage their wars, among a dozen other transgressions.” He adds morosely, “Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if a different angel rescued you from Hell after all.”

Dean blinks at Cas, his stomach turning over with dread at the very idea. He tries to picture some nameless angel yanking him out of the Pit or marching into that barn with all the righteousness of Heaven on his heels. Dean can’t do it.

Or worse, not a nameless angel. Uriel, who was ready to kill thousands without a second thought. Zachariah, that dickwad with the mind games. Even Hannah, who Dean reluctantly liked - he still can’t see her sticking by their side, falling, sacrificing everything for them.

Cas is their third wheel, the stabilizer that keeps Team Free Will upright and moving forward. Without him, they’re a tandem bicycle, and nobody wants a repeat of that opening scene from Gabriel’s sitcom from Hell.

“Yeah, but at least you always tried to do the right thing.”

“There is no try, only what I did or did not do,” Cas answers with a strange, defeated expression.

“Okay, but,” Dean starts, rolling his eyes at Cas’s butchered Star Wars reference, “Yoda’s a lot of things, but applicable to the real world without space lasers, he is not. Sometimes the only thing you can do is try, dude.”

God knows, Dean could never have forgiven Cas for any of the shit he pulled if he hadn’t been 100% positive Cas had the best of intentions. Cas did all those things to save the world, and, sometimes, to save Dean personally. Which gives him the girliest, fuzzy feelings and also makes him want to punch a wall.

Cas throws him a pitying look. “Every time I ‘try’ to make things better, I fail.” He shakes his head. “When you were taken, I searched for months to find you. Kelly escaped on my watch, and I couldn't find her. I’m a… dumbass.”

“I thought you preferred ‘trusting,’” Dean jokes, and it only sounds a little forced.

Cas throws him an exasperated look. “Perhaps a few years ago. But now? I’ve made too many mistakes, and people have suffered - you and Sam have suffered - as a result. You don’t need to spare my feelings, Dean. It’s hardly what I deserve.”

Dean frowns, tapping his fingers against his glass as he takes in Cas's defeated air. “Hey, what’s with the pity party?”

“It’s not a ‘pity party’,” Cas counters. “These are basic facts.”

Dean leans forward, bracing his elbows on the table. “You aren’t serious.”

Cas stares back. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Dean rakes his gaze up and down Cas’s face, looking for a break, for a tell - even though he knows he won’t find any. “You saved the world. A couple of times by now.”

“I also personally put it in jeopardy more than once,” Cas mutters. “I trusted Crowley to steal Purgatory. I trusted Metatron to bring peace to Heaven. I trusted Lucifer to take out the Darkness.”

Dean’s heart sinks with every reminder of Cas’s greatest hits. “Come on…”

Cas’s mouth thins, lips pressing together as he raises his glass to his mouth. “You don’t need to stay to keep me company, either,” he says in a low voice. “I’m the one under the spell. If you have anything more pressing, I can wait here for Rowena.”

“Shut up,” Dean says automatically. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Cas exhales a weighty sigh, his shoulders losing some of their tension.

“Hey, what you need - hell, what we both need - is a win,” Dean says reassuringly. “Everything’s been such shit, you need a reminder to keep going.” He gets up from his seat, his legs itching to move. “Why don’t you tell me more about that man of yours?” he asks quickly, his words nearly tripping over themselves to get out before the regret sets in. “Maybe that’s the key to getting your head back in the game.”

Cas doesn’t say anything as Dean moves to peruse a row of books he has no intention of ever reading. Eventually, Cas protests without much conviction, “My head is in the game. I am still useful.”

Dean’s head jerks around so fast it nearly gives him whiplash. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It isn’t?” Cas asks, head tilting in confusion.

Dean makes a face. “I mean, if you’re feeling down, you… shouldn’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dean paces to the other end of the bookshelf, unbelievably annoyed at Cas for making him spell it out for him. “Forget it,” Dean says instead. “I still owe you for ganking Billie-”

“But the cosmic consequences-”

“Will suck, but in the meantime you saved our lives. I owe you.” Dean turns so he’s back to fully facing Cas. “So, tell me what this mystery guy is into.”

Cas’s eyes narrow at him. “I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Seriously?”

Cas straightens and nods.

“But,” Dean says, words failing as he wars with himself. He could push Cas for more info or keep on living in blissful ignorance. But if he has to choose between his own personal peace of mind or Cas experiencing the one pinnacle of human happiness (or so Dean’s been told in countless chick flicks he’ll take to the grave), it’s no choice at all. He starts again, “If you tell me about him, it’ll make this a lot easier.”

“I don’t want it to be easier,” Cas says, baffled. “I don’t want this to be anything.”

Dean gapes. “Why the hell not?”

Cas taps his empty glass on the table, irritated. “Please, leave it alone.”

“No,” Dean says mulishly. “I wanna help you, man.”

“I don’t want any help.”

“Well, tough shit because you’re getting it anyway. You’re family-”

Cas’s face does a weird spasm.

“-And that’s what you do for family,” Dean continues, a little confused and insulted. They are family; Cas said so, back when he thought he was dying in Ramiel’s barn.

“Drop it.”

“No,” Dean argues, shoving down everything else as his temper rises. “You’re hurtin’, and I can help. Why don’t you trust me? You trusted Crowley, Metatron, fucking Lucifer-”

Too far. Shit.

Cas whirls around, his face a mask of frustration and an emotion Dean has never seen before. “I did, and you know what? They screwed me. And, please forgive me, Dean, but I am tired of being used and used up, over and over.”

Dean blinks, his anger falling away to a raw hurt only Cas can dredge up. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Cas runs a weary hand down his face. He just shakes his head.

“C’mon, Cas, it’s me,” Dean says - pleads, really. “You know me better than anyone else, ’cept Sammy. I won’t do something like that.”

Cas glares. “I do know you, so I know that is exactly what will happen.”

Dean reels back, and he can’t save himself in time before an undoubtedly pained look spreads across his face.

Cas’s hostility cracks, but Dean’s already gotten the message.

So Cas’s one big happy loving family message was only a deathbed thing. That’s… fine. Dean’s done it himself, a time or two. Told Sam to live his life and not go looking for revenge or a way to fix it - all a crock of horse shit, of course. He should’ve figured Cas was more human than angelic with that poison pumping through his veins, making him all weak and sweaty. ’Course he wasn’t above feeling human sentimentality in his death throes.

Face hardening, Dean turns on his heel. “You were right about one thing. I guess I do have more important things to do than staying here with you.”

“Dean,” he hears behind him, but Dean doesn’t look back.

* * *

Dean always hides a spare bottle of booze in the bottom drawer of the desk in his bedroom. It's mostly empty, but, hopefully, by the time Dean's polished it off, Cas’ll be cured, Rowena will be gone, and they all can pretend this never happened - Dean can pretend that Cas stopped keeping secrets because he’s learned they always blow up in his face in the past six years.

Anyway.

First, the booze.

Dean’s barely wrestled the top off with shaking fingers of leftover anger when a knock sounds against his door.

“’S the witch gone yet?” Dean asks without lifting his head.

The door opens. “Dean, it’s me.”

Dean takes a long pull of whiskey.

Cas sighs, audible in the stuffy, tension-filled space between them. He doesn’t approach, instead hovering in the doorway, and isn’t that how it always goes? Always poised for flight, that’s Cas. “Dean,” he repeats, which only makes Dean's blood boil that much hotter.

“What?” he demands. “What do you want now? ’Cause I can’t think of a single thing you need from me, Cas.”

Cas presses his lips together. “You’re making this very difficult.”

“Me?” Dean barks incredulously. “You’re the one hiding things and not letting me help you.”

“You won’t accept this is one area in which you can’t help?” Cas asks quietly.

Dean makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat.

Cas shakes his head, his gaze focusing on Dean’s face with his patented laser intensity. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

“Yeah, I’m just a jackass who can’t get a lady to stick around for more than a few hours. I get it.” He glances up to see Cas’s stricken expression. Frowning, Dean looks away.

Cas steps tentatively into Dean’s room, his face weirdly apprehensive. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Sure,” Dean says, tipping the bottle back like it’s water because he needs to be so much drunker to deal with Cas and his love spell bombshells right now.

Cas hovers awkwardly by Dean’s desk, his hands shoved into his coat pockets. “You’re so capable of love.”

“Cas-” Dean starts, but he has no idea where he’s going with this.

Cas keeps talking, thank God. “You don’t acknowledge that side of you very often, but I feel it every time we see each other, every time you’re with your brother. You care, you love, so wholly and completely.” Cas chuckles ruefully. “I didn’t realize it for a few years. I didn’t see how unique it was, how special you are, but you are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know.”

Dean’s tongue finally unsticks from the roof of his mouth. Face flaming hotter than the inferno where he first met Cas eight years ago, he rasps out, “Cas - what the hell are you saying?”

Cas swallows, dragging his gaze back up to meet Dean’s wide eyes. “The reason I didn’t tell you about the love spell was because it couldn’t make me love you any more than I already do.”

Dean blinks, dumbfounded, at Cas, the words love you bouncing around his skull like a blocked radio signal. Cas said them; Dean heard them with his own two ears; but the meaning behind the words is getting lost in transmission.

As Dean’s brain struggles to make sense of just about everything, Cas nods once. “Well, now you know. I’ll go wait for Rowena’s cure in the kitchen.”

And then he leaves.

Dean slams the whiskey bottle down on his desk, cursing as it nearly topples over in his haste. He sets it right, swearing more as precious seconds pass by. He hurtles down the hall, half-convinced Cas lied to him to get a head start and is really halfway to Timbuktu.

But Dean finds Cas in the library, sitting more or less where he left him before Dean had his little wallowing session in his bedroom.

“Cas!” Dean blurts, skidding to a halt and grabbing onto the edge of the table for support.

Cas looks up, frowning. “I - “ he gives himself a little shake and starts again, “Is Rowena having trouble with the spell?”

“What?” Dean strides forward on shaky legs. “No - I mean, I don’t know. They could be fucking in a supply closet for all I care.”

Cas’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline. For the first time today, he looks almost afraid. “Then why are you here?” he asks, his gaze darting towards the stairs to the exit. “I’m only going to stay in the Bunker until Rowena can finish. Then I will go.”

“Go?” Dean repeats, a spike of panic shooting up his spine. “You can’t.”

Cas inhales a sharp breath. “You want me to stay?”

“You want to bail?” Dean demands, his voice rising.

Cas pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “You’re upset. This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“I’m not fucking upset!”

Cas throws him an unimpressed look. “You clearly are. Your pulse is rising. Your pupils are dilated. I can smell your elevated levels of adrenaline.”

Dean makes a face. “Dude - lines - crossed.”

“Fine,” Cas says, his face set. He gets up. “I can coordinate with Rowena at a later date. She should focus on the cursed box, anyway. It’s clearly a more pressing concern and the reason we called her in the first place.”

“Hey.” Dean takes a step forward. “Wait.”

Cas’s mouth sets in a thin line. “What do you want, Dean? I did as you asked. I told you the spell could only latch onto my feelings for you.”

Dean falters, his words failing him.

Cas’s shoulders slump. “I did warn you, you know,” he murmurs, trying to pass Dean on his way towards the door.

Dean grabs onto Cas’s bicep before he can disappear. “Gimme a moment. What you said - it’s a lot.”

Miracle of miracles, Cas stops.

Dean can practically feel the power thrumming underneath the trench coat sleeve in his grip, but Cas wordlessly lets Dean guide him back to the library table.

“Okay,” Dean starts, his head still mercilessly void of the right thing to say, “So that guy, the one you’re - well, it’s - he’s me?” he asks, stumbling over his words like he hasn’t since that one time Rhonda Hurley opened her underwear drawer.

Cas nods once, his face impossibly solemn.

“Right,” Dean grunts. He rubs at his chin, Cas watching the whole while. “That’s - wow.”

“Quite,” Cas says wryly.

“Hey, don’t be a dick,” Dean shoots back. “I had no idea.”

“That was the point,” Cas sighs. “But now you do.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, feeling like a tongue-tied idiot. If only he could be more like Cas with the grand declarations.

Cas opens his mouth, pausing for a beat before saying, “I was never intending to leave permanently. I will still help you figure out how to deal with Kelly Kline. I will still assist with research, translations, anything you need.” His blue eyes bore into Dean’s face. “I can still be useful.”

Dean’s chest aches. “Didn’t I tell you it wasn’t about that?” he asks gruffly.

Cas’s earnest expression falters. “Of course,” he says, subdued. “Regardless, know that I am always willing to help the Winchesters.”

“Jesus,” Dean mutters, “This isn’t - it’s never been - about you being goddamn useful.” He huffs an exasperated breath, frowning harder as Cas doesn’t immediately get it and launch himself at Dean.

God, that would make this so much easier.

“What you want?” Dean says, glaring daggers at the tabletop between them, “That whole, mind, body, soul crap? You got it.”

Cas blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“You already have it,” Dean says through gritted teeth.

Cas cocks his head like a perplexed chicken, still as clueless as ever.

It’s clearly time to bring out the big guns. If Cas is going to spout pretty speeches that steal Dean’s breath away and leave him weak-kneed but not actually, you know, make a move, Dean will just have to do everything himself.

Fine. That’s how he’s always operated, anyway.

Face determined, he leans over and grasps the lapels of Cas’s trench coat.

Cas leans back a fraction, his eyes widening in alarm or shock. But before he can utter another word, Dean brings their mouths together.

Cas takes a moment to get with the program. There’s a split-second (that lasts several years) when Cas almost seems to push Dean off him, but he kisses back before Dean can yank himself away first. Cas’s mouth is tentative against Dean’s, like he’s waiting for Dean to end it all and yell, “Got ya!”, but he unseals his lips with a light sigh as Dean gently parts them with his tongue.

Dean unclenches one hand from Cas’s lapel. He reaches up to cup Cas’s jaw, the raspy stubble a physical reminder of the goddamn win he’s finally getting. His knees twinge from awkwardly leaning over, but rampaging Leviathans could burst into the kitchen and Dean wouldn’t give any less of a fuck.

He has Cas right where he wants him, and he’s going to fucking savor it for as long as he can.

When Cas pulls away, his face shows nothing but pure confusion. “Why?” he breathes, raising a finger to touch his lips.

Dean, still half-standing, half-leaning over him, frowns. He falls back to his seat with a thump. “Because you weren’t going to do it first?”

Cas blinks. “I didn’t think you wanted anything like that,” he pauses, “with me.”

Like there’s anyone else around who wants to get real up close and personal with the most dumbass angel in the garrison.

“Yeah, well,” Dean says, the faintest inklings of embarrassment creeping in now they’re not kissing anymore and Cas’s first reaction isn’t to look like he got free tickets to Disneyland. “I did. Do.”

“Oh.”

Dean swallows past the lump in his throat.

Cas looks away from Dean for the first time, and Dean dies a little inside. Stiffy, Cas says, “If this is some misguided attempt to show your sympathy for my situation. I don’t appreciate the gesture.”

“Gesture?” Dean echoes, “What the hell are you on, man? I don’t kiss random dudes because I feel bad for them, Christ.”

“Then why?”

Dean grimaces. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

“Yes,” Cas says quickly, his gaze raking up and down Dean’s face. “I have misunderstood your actions in the past, and I have no desire to do it again.”

Dean groans. “Look, I didn’t think angels could have feelings like that.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Or I would’ve… done something about it sooner,” he says, and that’s mostly true. Probably would’ve tried to seduce Cas, failed, and then jumped off a cliff, but Cas doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, normal angels can’t,” Cas says, “but there’s something broken in me.”

“You’re not broken,” Dean swears loudly, his anger flaring. “You’re… better. A new and improved God Squad, far as I can tell.” He narrows his eyes, daring Cas to talk shit about himself one more time.

Cas bites his lip. “You truly mean it.”

Dean tries for a mocking leer, but it comes out more like a dopey, hopeful smile. “You wanna get it engraved? Put up in neon in the Dean cave?” he asks, eyebrows raised as excitement courses through his veins. Cas loves him. Dean can make good on all those what ifs that have been plaguing him for years. “Tattooed on my ass?”

Cas chuckles lightly. “That would be a start.”

Dean lets out a bark of laughter. He can already feel the insecurities looming on the horizon. There’s always a catch: Cas never stays; Cas might want Dean now, but he’ll fly away the moment Dean fucks up because he has no idea what he’s doing.

But none of that matters right now.

He kissed Cas.

And Cas didn’t smite him. Didn't tell him to fuck off. Didn't flutter off to the moon for shits and giggles.

Cas knows him, knows him better than anyone except Sam. And despite all the fucked up shit in Dean's head, Cas is staying anyway, with his eyes wide open like nobody else Dean has ever been with.

Cas smiles in return. “If I had known a love spell would result in this outcome, I would have sought out that witch ages ago.”

And just like that, all Dean’s happy-ending fantasies come to a screeching halt.

Read Part II here!

#destiel fanfic #profoundnet #fanfic #destiel #rae writes fic #canon divergence #season 12 #love spell au #minor samwitch #there is only try

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whyjm · 3 years

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Why I did not like the Spn finale

This is gonna be a long post..

I cannot get over my thoughts about how it ended and how bad I feel about it. I am so angry, sad and feel so utterly disappointed, I cannot wrap my mind around how this was supposed to be a satisfying tying up emotional archs ending??? Bc it was so far away from satisfying I would laugh if I was not presently crying over it..

There are several things that irked me a lot. Many people have voiced the problems of this show and its ending much more eloquently than I will ever be able to do.. But I gotta get these fucking thoughts and feelings out of my system.

I have been with Spn since the first episode aired. I am a straight woman, I don’t have to fight for representation, I don’t have to worry about coming out and being accepted for who I am, I don’t have the daily struggles of feeling anxious or depressed or suicidal or not being able to be who I am. I am lucky that way!

To me love is love and all love should be equal! And I stand with all who struggle and all who are not free to be who they are. I see you and I love you and I support you fully!!!

To see my friends having to fight, and then on top of that have a show that has meant so much to so many people be butchered and have a negative last message sent out, in its last 36 minutes of its life … It is a hard pill to swallow.

Cas and Dean

In 15x18 we got to have a beautiful confession from Cas to Dean where Cas tells Dean he loves him and we know this is romantic love bc Cas begins by saying that the one thing I want I know I can’t have and then later I love you. Also Misha confirming it! This scene made me ugly cry so hard bc FINALLY.. (BUT what is missing from it.. the editing is strange.. bc Cas pushes Dean to the right but he falls to the left. Dean has no tears in his eyes while he looks straight at Cas when he talks, but he has tears in his eyes when he looks over his shoulder and see the empty. So what in this scene has been cut away and WHY?) Misha and Jensen did a great job with this and Cas got to find peace in just speaking his truth... And it was beautiful to watch and after having seen Dean sitting sobbing on the floor the natural and logical continuation of this would have been to in the next episode address this, but in episode 19 no such thing happened. And I wondered where did Dean’s grief go where did his CARE for Cas go?? Dean who has been depressed and suicidal when Cas have died before is all of sudden cold and act like nothing have happened at least nothing that affected him very deeply.. It felt disconnected and strange. And it continued on like that and it felt very strange to NOT address such a HUGH plot point. It’s not enough to have Dean say to Chuck to bring Cas back or to see him wasted out of his mind, or hugging a dog like his emotional wellbeing depends on it.. This is not resolution or addressing it.

All of season 15 has felt like the relationship between Cas and Dean has been in focus and important to the overall arch of the season, and explored and then all of a sudden all traces of it are just ripped away, erased completely.. To have a confession like this go unacknowledged to me is poor writing bc you do not leave this big of a thing hanging in the air without resolution (fine you can argue Cas got resolution but I feel that no Cas did not get resolution either bc his feelings SHOULD have gotten a response no matter what that response was.. Dean did not, we never got to hear or see his version or his thoughts about it.)

I was thinking narratively they HAVE to address this, Deans thoughts and reactions to this gotta be shown. They HAVE to resolve this, acknowledge it. I have been sure a long time they would NEVER have Dean reciprocate Cas love but keep it in subtext bc they are too fucking chickenshit to do that but at least have Dean talk about Cas….. that I expected him to do.. But it was not done in 19. I got the horrible feeling in my gut that they are not gonna resolve this they are gonna fuck this up, they are gonna go full brothers only and not give a fuck they are gonna push Cas out and show no care. Then we come to the final episode and boy howdy is there a lot to unpack with this episode.

(I had watched the long road home before the finale and when I watched that I KNEW that the end was going to be a letdown I felt it in all of me that I was gonna be disappointed. And I was proven right. And I have so many thoughts all jumbled up around each other that I don’t know in which end to start so sorry if what follows is incoherent and rambly.. )

15x20 - The end

20 felt like a FILLER episode, right up until Dean’s death scene I was bored and was seriously considering turning my computer of and just not watch. (A finale should be as engaging and emotionally packed like episode 18 was. I refuse to acknowledge 20 as the end.. To me it ended on 19. That wrapped things up. Not completely satisfying but hell of a lot better than the disaster that 20 is.) But then Dean was impaled on that rusty spike thingy and I was watching with attention. I GET why they did Deans death the way they did, even if that is one shitty death for Dean and could have been fixed so he did not die.. I get what they wanted to get out of it: a brothers sad moment that they turned into a irksome thing. I actually cringed about the head thing and the hands and the farming of it all just urgh I got sick to my stomach watching that. What should have been a beautifully sad moment was put together in a romantic coded way and that to me ruined the heartfelt goodbye. Bc you do not touch and hold a dying family member like that. I KNOW I have said goodbye to my fair share of loved ones that I have loved soo deeply, but the thought of touching like that NO no way.. And also they have NEVER done that forehead touch in previous deaths, so to do this now just felt irksome.

They killed Dean a character that has struggled his whole life with being daddy’s blunt little instrument, who has self-worth issues and are suicidal, who has never lived for his own sake but have only ever lived to protect and raise another, he continues to put others before himself though (up until the last couple of seasons where we have seen them both break away from this toxic behavior). Finally he was allowed to LIVE and have a life that was not controlled, not running in a hamster wheel like a fucking puppet on a string. He was Free of all of that. He was free to go after what HE wanted for himself and what Dean wanted was LOVE, in my mind its perfectly clear that Dean loves Cas back bc that is what the story have been telling us.. its right there and the story do not make sense without it. Many others have done a great job at talking about this and describe this way better than me. So I leave further discussion about that topic to them.

Dean was looking for a job. The angel Dean has loved since purgatory told him that he loved him and then died sacrificing himself to SAVE Dean yet again and then Dean dies a few days later.. How is this doing justice to Dean and what the hell kind of message does this send out to the ones watching?? They are saying it does not matter if you fight, your destiny is written for you and the only relief and comfort you will have will be death. They are saying Meh don’t fight it’s better to die bc it does not matter what you do. This is one of the fucked up messages this godawful ending sent to all those who have identified with Dean and Cas throughout the years.

They also say Cas who has been part of the story for 12 years is not important enough to have there, they IGNORED Cas, a mention in passing does not do justice to a character that has been crucial to the boys lives for 12 years. Dean Screamed in Sam’s face CAS IS FAMILY, Dean was destroyed when Cas died, he was hurt when Cas left bc everyone leaves Dean, Sam missed Cas etc… but still not important enough to show up in heaven in the last episode greeting first Dean and then Sam to heaven.. PFT…

To leave Cas and Misha out of the FINALE of a show that he has been part of for 12 years is so fucking disrespectful to Cas, to Misha and ALL the fans who love and adore both. It also makes no sense since they all say how beloved Cas and Misha are. and don’t go fucking covid made it impossible bc the last scene with all those people without masks.. No that is just lying liars who lie…Covid my ass! This angers me a lot.

Family do end in ONLY blood apparently…..

(And maybe lead to a lot of viewers for walker??? hence this very nice shirltess Sam scene............. ) shirtless Sam is always good though so no complaining here.

We see Sam and the dog give Dean a hunters funeral.. NO OTHERS are there? How is it possible that none of the found family wouldn’t want to be there and show up?? Jack has restored everyone but still only Sam and the dog are there, no Eileen, no Jody and the girls, Donna, Garth, and the list goes on and on. Bc they wanna hammer in harder that supernatural has ever only ever been about two brothers and no one else matters ever.. It does not matter that this has not been true since the earlier seasons. The show of course is about Sam and Dean’s lives and journey through life, and I have loved to follow along on their journey. BUT it was a long time ago this was the ONLY thing that mattered (bc if it had only been about the brothers the show would NOT have gone on for this long). Along the way they have picked up FOUND Family, and the message of the show has been Family don’t end in blood, Always Keep Fighting. But this last episode reverted back to season 1 and disregarded ALL character growth and storytelling of the past 12 years and went with fuck it ONLY Sam and Dean are important. So the next fucked up message they sent where: There is no Family don’t end in blood.. The only family that matters is blood. And then they have the balls to say Always Keep Fighting.. Are they fucking kidding????

Character development…….. who????

Sam lives on after Dean dies and we get a montage of his life where he look miserable and is shown to not being able to get over that Dean died. We get a blurry wife and a kid named Dean. In his house there are photos of ONLY himself, Dean and their parents and maybe one of his son? Don’t remember all the details and refuse to watch that episode ever again. But no friends, no family, no happy moments are shown, it looked like a very lonely life. He dies with only his son there.. WHERE are Sam’s friends??? This montage of Sam’s supposed happy life is NOT happy bc he is not able to get over that Dean is dead, he can’t live a happy life bc Dean is not there - again something that irked me and felt disrespectful to all the growth Sam and Dean have gone through. It was toxic codependency all the way through and that is not satisfying to watch. Especially since the brothers had actually broken that dependency. Sam had broken free, Sam have through the years wanted to get away from Dean and live his life as he wants and then he was happy…We have a moment way back in season 5 maybe? Where Sam runs away and this is shown as one of his happy moments in dark side of the moon.. No Dean in his happy places, Sam having thanksgiving with his girlfriend and her family, Sam alone with a dog. We have Sam and Amelia when Dean was in purgatory. So Sam IN text have been shown being able to be happy without Dean so why could he not do it this time?? Makes no sense! You can grieve but still have a good life.. But they CHOSE to show it like Sam was miserable bc Dean was dead and life was not worth living happily without Dean there..

The brothers have lately interacted like two individual adults, separated from each other, making their own decisions and trusting each other in making them, they wanted different things in life. And seriously WHERE DID EILEEN GO?? Why was Sam not reunited with Eileen that he some eps previous was shown to love, no instead they had blurry wife which feels like such a cop out. Sam did not get to live a happy fulfilling life and why did Sam not deserve to live a happy life with Eileen??? I know they are blaming corona for a lot of things missing in the finale that they intended.. BUT and this is a BIG BUT remember Jensen did not like the ending it did not sit well with him, he had a hard time digesting it, he objected to the ending! He spoke about that dying in battle would not be a satisfying ending - see the video of him talking about this at SDCC 2019. There is so much more to say about this but other people have voiced it so much better than I ever could so I move on to the next issue.

Dean in heaven

Dean when he first arrives there happens upon Bobby who tells him John and Mary lives down the road and that Rufus and Arheta lives around there too. I hope Bobby’s wife was indoors, and that Jack with the help of Cas fixed heaven. To this Dean only smirk/smiles.. and then Dean sees baby and goes for a drive ALONE with the words he will be here soon from Bobby again Sam is the only one that ever matter PFT. Dean who found a home in the bunker alongside Sam, Cas and Jack who told John: I have a family and that he was happy with himself and his life…. Spends his time endlessly driving around alone just waiting for Sam to appear.. ALL of Deans growth is thrown out the window.. he is reduced to salad dressing. Deans only purpose is to live for his brother and cannot possibly have what he WANTS for himself not even in death. He drives around for who knows how many years until Sam dies. HOW is this justice to DEAN? How is this a good and satisfying ending for Dean. Dean who wanted to LIVE, Dean who wanted to experience people in new ways, who had let go of Sam and saw Sam as his own person, now in heaven only drives around waiting for Sam to get there having no life or meaning of his own. It pisses me off to no end that they reverted back to toxic codependent Sam is all that is important to Dean shit.. They have broken away from this shit years ago and this is how they choose to end it right back at the beginning..

Now what is the point of telling a story of growth and love and life if all that that journey amounts to is ending up at the exact point it started on?? You can watch season 1 and 2 and then this finale and it makes sense.. But having watched season 1-15 this ending does great injustice to the characters and the story. Again many others have written way better posts about this that expresses the great disappointment and hurt that is being screamed everywhere right now.

The Actors

I want to add the performance of all actors through the years, the love and care they have poured into their characters are amazing I have loved every bit of that journey. I love Jared, Jensen and Misha, and all the others for their amazing work and that is maybe why it hurts so much it ended in this way!

#spn 15x20 #Supernatural #Jensen Ackles #Misha Collins #Jared Padalecki #dean winchester #dean #sam winchester #sam #castiel #cas #spn 15x18 #spn 15x19 #rambly thoughts about the end #the end

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lorewhoresam · 3 years

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Okay, so I suddenly got a surge of inspiration for a meta post about the finale of supernatural. I know it’s been like a whole month, I just cannot get over this steaming shitpile.

First, let’s talk about the finale, because that was embarrassingly bad for a million different reasons, the biggest one being character development.

Almost every single one of the characters got the same ending they would have gotten if the very first episode hadn’t happened.

Dean Winchester Dean daddy’s-blunt-instrument Winchester went out swinging, as he always wanted. Right? I personally think that Dean never really wanted that, that it was part of John Winchester A+ parenting, that because John said that’s what hunters do, hunt until they get killed, he thought that was the only way he was allowed to go out. But, over the years Dean learned that was not true, that hunters could get out if they wanted, like Jesse and Cesar, (who are important to Dean’s character in other ways (see also: dean is bi) and a lot of the ghostfacers. However, since the writers wanted to “go back to the roots of the show” by making it about Sam and Dean and their toxic co-dependency, even though that hasn’t been an issue in years, as shown by the meaningful connections they both made to others, like Castiel, Eileen, Charlie, Bobby, Jo, Claire, and so many others, they killed him off the way he wanted when the show was still solely about two brothers, saving people, hunting things, the family business. If supernatural is all about family, and family don’t end in blood, why did they erase everyone who wasn’t blood? Why was the only moment they mentioned Dean’s best friend, and his son an off-hand remark, flat and meaningless, directly followed, and diminished even further, by Sam pieing Dean in the face? Was that supposed to be funny? Practically the only reason spn was still so loved by so many people was because of the characters and their bonds, and the humor, and the only pathetic excuse for humor was that? It was a big fuck you to everyone who invested time in this show, beautifully in theme with the rest of the episode. A+ for consistency guys! Dean Winchester, who cried everytime Cas almost died? Dean Winchester, who was worried sick every time Castiel didn’t respond to his calls or prayers, knowing full well he can take care of himself? Dean Winchester, Castiel’s absolute best friend in the whole universe? That Dean Winchester didn’t talk, think, cried, mourned Castiel who confessed his love for him to save him? That fact alone is way worse than the bury your gays trope they pulled.

Castiel Controversial opinion time, because IF they had written in the grief (especially Dean’s, because knowing him, he would have survivor’s guilt, and blame himself) everyone would have gone through after his death, it would be kind of okay. Obviously, you need some explanation behind this batshit crazy statement. Understandable, really. He died in a very in-character way in my opinion. Think about it, Castiel, who has always shown his emotions, his love through self-sacrifice, and thus said “I could go with you” when Dean was a bomb to destroy the Darkness, offering to die for nothing, besides to bring Dean comfort, simply because he doesn’t know any other way to show his love, died, confessing his love so that Dean wouldn’t die at the hands of Billy, but instead favouring Superhell for all eternity. His death was character development, because he learned in that moment that he could say it out loud, but only due tot he fact that it would help Dean. But then they just didn’t mention him again in a way that had any real emotional impact on anyone, characters or fans. And worse, in heaven they, as they did with all the other characters, you guessed it, they erased all character development :D Cas was in heaven, doing his holy duty, the exact same way he would have ended up had he not met and fallen in love with Dean Winchester. (God I love being saying that knowing no one can say it isn’t true) It was obvious though that Bobby knew something about their ‘profound bond’, but that was not something we can credit the writers for, because it was due to Jensen Ackles’ and Jim Beaver’s fantastic acting.

Sam Winchester Sam Winchester got the apple pie life, had a son, who he raised to hunt and a faceless blond wife. The strangest thing to me was his son. Sam, who was raised into hunting and - rightfully - resented his father for it, so why would he do that to his own son? It does not make sense. My second point is very subjective, so you may disagree. I my opinion, Sam never really wanted the apple pie life. I think Dean was the one who wanted a family, and normalcy - as much as that is possible with Castiel obviously. I hear you say Sam went to college because he didn’t want to be a hunter. Well, I disagree. I think he went to college, because he knew he could, and he knew it would make John mad. I think he did it out of rebellion. Why, you ask? Sam was always the one who was better at hunting. He was always more like John than Dean has ever been. Dean is portrayed as more violent but that has another meaning, which is a story for another time. Sam like hunting more as well, but he didn’t like hunting with John, because he was an abusive asshole, and Sam had the chance to rebel, to be selfish, because of Dean. Dean dropped out of high school to work, because he needed to provide for Sam. Dean tried so hard to be he perfect soldier for his dad, so Sam wouldn’t have to be. Dean worked all his childhood to create an environment for Sam where he had the option to be selfish, but Sam returned to hunting anyway, but it wasn’t for his dad. It was for revenge. Now, let me ask you; if Sam truly disliked hunting, if he really wanted to go to law school, wouldn’t he just have returned later? He could have, but he didn’t, because he does love it, just as his father did. And when Dean was in purgatory, he had a girlfriend, a dog, a normal life, but he didn’t even hesitate to get back to hunting when Dean came back. Dean though, Dean wanted the house, the family, the kids. And he tried to get it. But he got pulled back into the life and left Lisa because he had no other choice. And, most importantly, if Dean never went to get Sam in college, and Jess was never killed, his life would look the exact same. He would one day stumble across a ghost and get back into the life, and die of old age, with a blonde wife we know nothing about and a kid.

I still have one tiny question.

Why the hell was John Winchester, abusive and absentee father, in heaven? Why?

#spn #supernatural #meta #spn meta #15x20 #15x20 meta #character development #what character development #fuck andrew dabb #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #dean is bi #tw: mention of abuse #tw: swearing

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hot-tea-gardenparty · 3 years

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SPN 15.20 Reaction

Okay finally watching it live here on the West Coast, albeit I’ve been spoiled by Tumblr so I already know the episode is utter trash. I am very upset. Do not read ahead if you’d rather feel positive.

- Pie Festival. Sam brings up Cas and Jack and Dean just pushes past that like it doesn’t fucking matter. “We gotta keep living for them” FUCK THAT SHIT. I hate it. So we are just going to keep ignoring the whole Cas confession? Gotcha. Pics or it didn’t happen?

- Where’s Eileen too? Does she matter nothing to Sam now? What was the point of bringing her back to life and the kiss and whatnot….if she doesn’t matter in the end.

- Now we’ve got some rando family that I don’t care about and these dollar store mask wearing creepers. I don’t want to see this in a SERIES FINALE EPISODE.

- So you got all these extras and all these other random actors on set….but you couldn’t include Misha in the finale? Wow.

- Interrogation of the dollar store creepers. Boring. SO BORING. 15 minutes into this episode and I am BORED. Who cares right now about a VAMPIRE NEST in the FINALE EPISODE. Why was this put in here?

- A barn….where Dean is supposed to be meeting Cas again but we all know that isn’t going to happen. No….why would we actually bring back a character that has kept this show from cancellation over and over…let’s just have the brothers fight some stupid vampires that no one cares about.

- Oh great a fight with the dollar store vampires. The fight choreo is a bit wonky….but if I was honest it’s always been a little wonky on Supernatural (at least the past few seasons).

- HOW DID THE SPN WRITERS THINK THAT BRINGING BACK JENNY FROM S.1 WAS MORE IMPORTANT THAN CAS? LIKE SERIOUSLY…WHAT THE EVER LIVING FUCK.

- Fastest cameo ever. What the hell was the purpose of that at all?!

- This is where Dean is gonna fall on a spike or something and die. Oh…nope…impaled by a vampire.

- Seriously. Dean is gonna die here? HERE? NOW? He literally just got his free will. ARE YOU SHITTING ME?! Seriously….WHAT IS THE POINT OF DEAN DYING NOW? AND THIS IS WHAT KILLS HIM? Dean deserves more than this. This isn’t the right way for him to die. Impaled on a spike by a shitty, second tier vamp. He deserved a life. This is just CRUEL.

- Dean’s goodbye to Sam is kinda squicky. This is crossing into Wincest territory and it’s kinda disgusting. SERIOUSLY DABB WHY DID YOU FEED INTO THE WINCEST BULLSHIT.

- This death is taking a while.

- Sam doesn’t deserve this shit.

- God, I would have been fine with a death like this for Dean if it had happened LATER ON DOWN THE LINE. BUT LIKE THIS? NOW?

- Serious question. Why did Dean have to die in a barn? A link to Cas maybe? Fuck…why am I doing this to myself….I know now this show isn’t that deep.

- Hunter funeral. Hey…Sam….question buddy….why didn’t you call ANYONE? No Donna. No Jody? Just you and the damn dog? WTF? Where is your found family? Apparently they don’t matter anymore.

- The dog is the best part of this episode. It’s cute.

- So now Sam is going to go on a hunt? Sure. Fine.

- Dean is in heaven now I guess.

- You cannot tell me that Dean arrives in heaven, where Cas is now residing, and Cas just doesn’t pop in at all to say HI? BULLSHIT.

- All Cas gets is a fleeting mention? Thanks. I hate it.

- “What are you going to do now?” “I’m gonna no homo this shit-pony into the diarrhea smear sunset!”

- Sam marries an unknown woman. Has a kid named Dean. Thanks….I hate it.

- WHAT IS THAT WIG?! OMG NO. AHAHAHAHAHA! They didn’t even fucking try. Jared doesn’t even look aged…jesus christ.

- Sam dies in old age. Fine. Whatever. I am already fed up with this shitty finale.

- Why couldn’t supernatural just give us a happy ending in 2020?

- Carry On My Wayward Son TWICE….IN A ROW. JESUS CHRIST. HAMMER IT HOME HARDER GUYS I HAVEN’T FELT ANYTHING YET.

- Are you seriously telling me Cas hasn’t come by to say hi to Dean ONCE. NOT ONCE? Fuck I hate this finale. I hate it so much.

Final thoughts: This finale was a mess. Every single emotional thread they had strung was left hanging. I am honestly deeply offended that Castiel wasn’t in this episode. That he was barely even mentioned. I cried about that during the final scenes, not because Dean and Sam died. This finale was a cheap, slap-dash ending…it was the epitome of “rocks fall they all die”. I haven’t felt this hurt and angered by a finale since GOT. I had so much faith in Supernatural and it’s writers….I put faith in the meta readings and I tried to stay a positive fangirl with a sunny outlook. This finale just dashed most of my respect for whoever thought this finale was good enough. For whoever deemed these endings were going to make us fans happy. This was a slap to so many of our faces. It dangled multiple carrots in our face, “it’s not a good ending without Cas” or “Cas is an important character, we can’t leave him out” and “family don’t end in blood”. WELL…apparently family does end in blood…because Dean and Sam literally cared about no one else in 15.19 and 15.20 other than themselves. It’s like the entire ensemble cast was shoved to the side to make sure that the Wincest and brother lovers got their happy ending. I am so beyond heartbroken.

THIS IS NOT MY SUPERNATURAL FINALE.

IT NEVER FUCKING WILL BE.

#spn #supernatural #15.20 #destiel #episode live reaction #thoughts #personal #i don't give a fuck anymore #this finale was a raging dumpster fire #it didn't even give us the bare minimum #it was so hurried and slapdash #it was insulting

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earbuds-and-hightops · 3 years

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An Open Letter to Supernatural

[ Spoiler warning for 15x20, obviously ]

I understand that a well-contemplated complaint about this ending cannot be made without first reading the original, pre-COVID, script of 15x20, but in the long run, the initial plan is not what will be remembered.

What will be remembered is what this show created. What it became beyond two brothers driving around the country, hunting monsters. Characters were introduced and developed, and in that, Sam and Dean Winchester become so much more than two kids living on the road. In the past 15 years, the cast, and thus the family, grew to something that would be unimaginable to those who started this project back in 2005. Not only did the characters and their stories become meaningful, but the show itself grew into, well, a family. The fans who have kept this show alive since Day 1 have come together to form what I believe is the greatest community in pop culture.

What hurts the most is that this finale did not do any of that development justice.

The finale (and consequently the episodes leading up to it) reverts back to the story between only Sam and Dean. While some see this as an ode to who they are--their brotherhood and familial bond being the heart of their values and the root of their characters--I cannot help but see this as a rejection of their experiences this past decade and a half.

What’s worse, episode 15x18 confirmed one of the most pure and powerful and goddamn beautiful romances that television will ever see. This story of an angel who abandoned his family and the only beings he’s known for thousands of years, all for one person. I knew from the instant the screen faded to black on November 5 that the story of Castiel will always be remembered, even if his feelings were unrequited. Castiel will always be remembered.

And then there’s Destiel. I was genuinely impressed that this show would even grow to include a queer angel, more importantly, a queer character in a leading role. The queer-baiting and the “bury your gays” trope both make this confession and its lack of acknowledgement that much worse (and is worthy of an entirely separate open letter for another night). It matters less if Dean does or doesn’t reciprocate these feelings and more that it’s wrong that he completely ignores it. Cas’s love confession, this beautifully tragic and tragically beautiful emotion coming from a being who wasn’t supposed to feel emotions at all, is something that, unfortunately, will become a secret that dies with Dean Winchester.

It’s truly a shame that the writers of this show let that happen.

We haven’t even touched the fact that Castiel’s death was an act of sacrifice to save Dean. Dean’s limited reaction and lack of mourning* tears apart this phrase that has become pivotal to the entire show and fanbase: “Family don’t end in blood.” While it would be a lot to ask that Dean rescue Cas from the Empty and resume their cycle of rescue and resurrection, I think it’s only fair that Dean take the time to fully accept Castiel’s actions and words for what they mean instead of simply moving forward as if they never happened.

What’s more, Misha Collins is one of the greatest and kindest people in this world, and he’s poured his heart and soul into Supernatural, just like everybody else. He’s spent 12 years on this project, and the final two episodes hardly mentioned his character. He didn’t deserve this. It’s heartbreaking that his last credit on this show will be a prank call from someone trying to impersonate him, and not something that pays tribute to such an important character and important actor**

The most devastating part of this ending is what happened in 15x19. Pardon my French when I say that that episode, the ultimate climax of the season and latter half of the series, was a piece of dog shit. It’s incredibly frustrating to invest in 15 years worth of television and look forward to this ultimate battle between two average boys and God the Almighty Himself and to instead watch a 6-minute long fist fight on the beach with the only dialogue being variations of “seriously guys, stay down.”

My issues with 15x19 lie less in the storyline that was chosen and more in how they were presented. I am completely on board with Jack taking God’s power and eventually becoming the new God, but the episode was far too quick to have any real meaning, and, as stated before, Castiel’s sacrifice, which allows Sam, Dean, and Jack to do what they do in 15x19, is hardly mentioned.

Most fans agree that 15x19 was far too quickly paced. The plot with Michael and Lucifer was questionable to begin with, but should have been an episode on its own if it were to be perused at all. Michael’s story in particular could have been fleshed out to reiterate this theme of overly loyal sons and their fathers, as well as their relationships with less loyal siblings, but was instead reduced to about 20 minutes of screen time.

Though this is less important, Lucifer’s plan to make a new Death felt like a cheap cop-out just to close the storyline with Death’s book, but we can finish that discussion another day.

The general fan reaction to this atrocity of an episode was that this was meta, and according to Becky, the ending was supposed to be dog shit. This, along with the untouched storyline started when Cas died, gave fans so much hope that the finale would be this amazing piece of art that puts Supernatural in the history books.

While it’s obvious that an hour cannot perfectly tie up every single event and arc with a pretty little bow, it can at least...try. Any finale should, at minimum, pay tribute to what the show started as (which 15x20 did well) and what it became (which 15x20 failed to do miserably).

In addition, a reference to character back in season 1 is incredibly frustrating when recurring characters with actual, well, character go unnoticed. I mostly reference Eileen here, but this also applies to Jody and Donna. Nobody even mentions the other wonderful friends who have helped Sam and Dean along their journey to Heaven. If family doesn’t end in blood, then why doesn’t it extend to include Castiel, Jack, Mary, Rowena, Charlie, Kevin, Jody and her girls, Donna, and so many others?

Dean’s death was sad, I’ll give them that (and honestly, I was expecting it). However, considering that this man has defeated apocalypses, killed Death, and taken down God, his death via nail in the wall was incredibly anticlimactic, and something that could literally have happened at any point over the 15 seasons. While Dean’s death was obviously not my ideal ending, I think it could have worked if it were done properly, and in this case, it was not. That said, I do appreciate that Sam did not try to bring Dean back, as that would indicate literally no growth at all.

Dean’s funeral was...pathetic, to say the least. Sam being the only person there was depressing considering that Dean had lots of other close friends (and you’d think that Jack would pay his respects, but apparently not), however, this is likely a scene that was impacted by COVID and the availability of some of the cast, so I will not dwell on that scene.

Dean’s time in Heaven complicates matters even more. Firstly, Bobby confirms that Castiel is no longer in the Empty and has been in contact with Jack. I would have loved to see this reunion; Cas is essentially Jack’s father, and I would have loved to see how their upgrading/remodeling of Heaven brought them closer together. I understand that the writers were trying to focus this finale story on the brothers, this goes back to my earlier point that you cannot simply ignore everything that that this show has grown to include. Bobby’s explanation also begs the question of why Dean had no intention of seeing Cas (or Jack, for that matter) again now that he has the opportunity.

Secondly, Dean’s instinct to go directly for the Impala was very in-character, however, the editing implied that driving was all Dean did until Sam died. As we know, Sam dies of old age, likely (completely guessing here) upwards of 40-50 years from Dean’s death, and that is a very, very long time for Dean to simply driving around the mountains. It would have been nice to see Dean reunite with other family and friends who are also in Heaven, however, again, COVID restraints.

Sam’s ending was similar to what I and a lot of other fans imagined (not necessarily wanted, but predicted) it to be: kids and a wife, living a normal, monster-free, life. I hate to believe that he doesn’t end up with Eileen (to my recollection, his wife was a blur in the background, and it is unclear if she was meant to be Eileen) however that might just be my bias and appreciation of Shoshannah Stern. While I’m glad that this storyline gave Sam the room to grow and develop without his brother, it also completely ignores everything that he’s been through this past decade and a half, and that is something that should not happen. Sam grew and changed so much since he left Stanford and leaving that life, the life of a hunter, behind feels very counterintuitive.

Let’s not even discuss the wig that Jared wore. It reminded me of the Cain wig that Rob wore in the Hillywood parody.

What shocked me the most at the beginning of this episode was the lack of a “The Road So Far” compilation. I hoped for the full song with a recap of all 15 seasons, or, at minimum, the typical single-season recap. “Carry On My Wayward Son” is such an important part of the show and the culture of the fan base, that it seems almost sacrilegious that the season finale not begin with this song and a memorial to the events in the past season (or series).*** I’m very happy that it was included at all, but I was shocked when Neoni’s cover took over.

No disrespect to Neoni; those girls are incredibly talented and I love their music, however, a series finale of a 15 season long show does not feel like the place for a cover when they already have the rights to the original, and the original is so iconic.

Lastly, I want to acknowledge Jensen Ackles’s reaction to this conclusion. At a con panel about a year ago, he said that he needed to be talked into agreeing to this script by Erik Kripke himself, because the ending just wasn’t sitting right with him. So many fans took this to believe that he was homophobic and afraid that of Destiel becoming fully canon, and he got so much more hate than he deserved, because ultimately, he was right in his first opinion. This isn’t the way this story should have ended. Jensen explained that he had been “too close” to the story, and that it took a more holistic view from a step backwards (the audience’s perspective, as he puts it) to agree on this ending, but honestly, nobody knows Dean Winchester better than Jensen, and he knows what’s best and what would be the best way to finish this character’s arc. I think fans and Jensen alike agree that this wasn’t it.

I sympathize with all of the cast and crew members who disagree with how this show ended but are bounded by contract to support this show no matter what. Especially Misha and Jensen.

Over all, I believe that Supernatural will go down in history (in internet communities, at least) as one of the greatest shows ever. While I do agree that the writing quality in terms of both dialogue and plot declined as years passed, the community, the family, that this show created cannot be ignored because of a poorly written/planned ending. I think that the fandom will collectively let go of this disaster of an ending that we were given and will, just like Sam and Dean, write our own stories. I have full faith and confidence that Supernatural will not be represented by this finale episode, but by the beautiful stories, amazing characters, and the family that this show created and what the fans have chosen to do with it.

Sincerely,

A Fiercely Frustrated but Fiercely Loyal Fan

* I do not count that last clip of Dean crying on the floor as mourning. In my mind, that was a reaction, not an emotional healing and overcoming, if that makes sense. I argue that if Dean were to fully mourn and process everything (like Sam did in 15x20) we would have seen at least a bit of that on screen.

** This is where I would have loved to see some of the original scripts. I hope that the writers initial intentions were to have Misha more involved in these last two episodes than what was likely a voice memo created in 10 minutes tops at Misha’s house.

*** The strange montage at the end of 15x19 makes so much more sense. I still would have preferred that montage at the beginning of 15x20. This also shines light on the video that Misha posted. What would we do without him :)

#supernatural #spn #spn season 15 #spn finale #spn 15x20 #an open letter #no beta we die as men #destiel #deancas #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #jack kline #erik kripke #robert singer #andrew dabb #that god awful finale #i spent 4 hours drafting this

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inlovewithsaturn · 3 years

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Dean Winchester’s 42nd Birthday

Dean woke up on his 42nd birthday the way he had been waking up nearly every day in the last few months: an armful of white fur and wet kisses across his cheeks. When Miracle first came home with them Dean had made sure to get her a big, cushy, memory foam dog bed so that she would be comfortable, but it had taken all of three nights for him to relent and let her sleep pressed against his side. He liked having her there, hell, he didn't even try and hide it. He was trying to hide things less now. He was trying to be better. ** **

He was trying to be the man Cas had told him he was.

The thought of Cas had him hugging Miracle just a little tighter to his chest, burying his face in her warm fur. He thought about Cas a lot. His eyes, his final moments, his confession. Dean missed him more than he really thought was possible. But life goes on. You lose people and you have to keep going, no matter how big the ache in your chest gets, you have to keep going. That's what Dean was trying to do. He wanted Cas’s sacrifice to mean something. If he got out now Cas’s death would have been for naught, so he kept going.

There had been some close calls, even as the number of hunts got lower and lower. Dean had a nasty gash still healing on his ribs from where a piece of rebar almost got him, now that would have been a dumb way to go. Those first couple of weeks had been hard. Dean contemplated just ending it all, he wasn't really sure how to go on after everything that happened, wasn't sure how to fill the angel-sized hole in his heart. But Cas’s words played on his head in a loop and he wasn't going to die and throw away the chance Cas had died to give him. He loved the other man far too much to let that happen.

So Dean got up, he pulled on his dead guy robe and grabbed the plate from last night’s pizza rolls, and he scratched Miracle behind the ears. Today was going to be a good day, whether the universe wanted it to be or not. He hummed as he walked to the kitchen. He was doing better. Coffee was scenting the air as he neared the doorway and, oh, bacon? Happy birthday to him! As he grinned and rounded the doorway three things immediately became clear. 1. That was not his brother (way too short), 2. The “unbreakable” glass plates he got at the store were not in fact unbreakable if the cuts pricking his legs were to be believed, and 3. He was going to get to start his birthday by killing whatever son of a bitch had decided to put on that trenchcoat and waltz into his home.

The shattering dinnerware caused the creature to turn in surprise, it's elbow nearly bumping the frying pan to the ground, but it caught it at the last moment. It then turned back, blue eyes locking with green. Dean was frozen, not for long but for longer than a seasoned hunter should have been. In two long strides he had a knife from the butcher block in his grip and was pressing the blade to the fucker’s neck with his other arm solidly around it’s chest. His voice was wobbling when he spoke.

“I dont care what the fuck you are, get out of that body now or your death is gonna take a hell of a lot longer than it needs to.”

The sigh of frustration coming from the monster was almost expected. Monsters were cocky little bastards. The words it spoke though? Rather surprising.

“Dean, if you don't let me go the bacon is going to burn and this is the only pack in the fridge.”

Huh. Okay. So it was going to get extra tortured then. It was one thing to take his shape but pretending to be his angel cooking him breakfast was another. He pressed down harder with the knife, drawing a blood and a wince-

“Cas?”

Dean didn't loosen his hold but he did turn his neck to look at Sam, who was currently in the same position of shock Dean had vacated moments earlier. His brother’s face pushed the tears that were burning the back of his eyes into the light. He needed a drink.

“Sam, get the silver and the holy water from the cupboard,” Sam didn't move. “Now!” Dean gritted out, just as the monster cut in.

“I'm not a shapeshifter Dean, or a demon, I was just trying to make breakfast.”

“Shut up. Stop saying my name.” Was all Dean could manage. He had been thinking about hearing Cas say his name, just once more, for weeks now. This was agony.

Sam had apparently been shaken from his trance because the next thing Dean felt was residual holy water splashing his cheek. He let go of one arm so Sam could push up the coat, his coat, and draw the thin silver blade over skin.

Nothing happened except a few pricks of blood and a sharp inhale that Dean could feel pressed against his chest. Then there was a quiet, fluttering, woosh to his left. A sound he hadn't heard in months.

“It seems I should have arrived at the same time as Cas, sorry about that.”

Dean’s brain was going way too fast. It felt like there was cotton stuffed in his ears and all the way through his skull. The edges of his vision went dark, zeroing in on the figure standing next to the stove, white jacket somehow almost glowing. Now Dean was almost certain that this was a dream because the last thing he saw before fainting backwards into the counter was Jack, smiling like there was absolutely nothing amiss.

His head hurt. Not like a hangover but more like that time a vampire had clocked him from behind with a 2x4. He opened his eyes, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. That dream had been insane. Why was he in the kitchen?

“How is your head Dean?” Cas’s low voice washed over him in a sea of warmth.

“It hurts like a bitch. What happened Cas?”

Oh fuck. Not a dream.

Dean pushed up so he was sitting and tried to stand and tackle the man before him at the same time but the floor seemed to rush towards him and he ended up slumped on Cas’s chest. Warm arms caught him by the waist and sat him back down. A large hand gripped his chin and he was turned to see his brother.

“Calm the hell down okay? You hit your head pretty hard on the counter.” Dean jerked his eyes back to Cas and tried, again unsuccessfully, to leave his hold. His face was turned again.

“He's not a monster Dean, stop moving. You have a cut.” Sam lifted his hand to place a small bandaid on Dean’s eyebrow.

“What?”

“Jack pulled me out. Please let your brother finish his first aid so we can talk.”

Dean sat still.

Once Sam was satisfied with his handiwork he and Cas helped Dean stand and move to the table.

Dean sat still.

This was not happening. How in the world could it be?

Cas sat in front of him. Cas gazed at him with a mix of worry and pure joy. Cas reached out a hand to gently squeeze the one Dean had lying limp on the tabletop. He felt real. He felt like Cas.

“Cas?” Cas smiled wider.

“Hello, Dean.”

Tears slid down Dean’s cheeks as his hand not currently occupied with gripping onto Cas lifted, shaking, to brush across the angel’s cheekbone. He was really here. He was warm and solid and breathing. He was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen.

“How are you here?” His voice was barely above a whisper. He was terrified that if he spoke too loud or moved too fast this would all fall apart and he would wake back up in his bed, alone with only his dog and memories to keep him going.

“Jack came to an agreement with the Empty, he could help it sleep if he was allowed to pull a few angels out to help in Heaven. I was the first.”

“I prayed to you Cas. I didn't think you could hear me but I kept praying. How long have you been out?” At this, sadness shadows across blue eyes, guilt evident in his ethereal features.

“A while by Earth standards of time. There was so much to be done. I heard them. I heard you.”

He looks back up.

“I am sorry Dean, we worked as fast as we could. I cannot tell you what it is now, but it is far better than what my father created. Jack is a good leader. It was important I finished before I saw you again.”

“Why?” Dean is now holding both of Castiel’s hands in his own. A sad smile graces Cas’s mouth.

“Because I knew once I saw you I would be unable to leave you again.”

Dean stands, the floor now remaining steady under his feet, and has his arms around Cas in seconds. Castiel stands as well so he can wrap around him, Dean’s face quickly finding its home in the crook of Cas’s neck.

“Thank you.”

“I didn't actually do it, Jack is the one to thank.”

“No.” Dean pulls back so he can see Cas’s face. “Thank you for coming back.”

“I’ll always come when you call.”

Dean pulls him back in, suffocating himself in the scent of Cas. He stays that way for a time, only pulling away when he hears a small giggle from behind him. Jack is beaming, as is Sam, and Dean rushes to envelop Jack in a hug as well.

“Thanks kid.”

“Of course, Dean. It was his choice anyway, I just made it happen. I don't think there is anyone better to teach him how to be human than you and Sam.”

Dean pulls back.

“Human?”

Cas speaks again, anxiety laced into his words.

“Yes, as Jack said, I made the choice. I can go somewhere else if that-” Dean’s arms surround him once again, crushing any doubts he was holding.

“We are gonna teach you everything okay? You're gonna love it.” Dean is smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. Cas is staying here. Cas is human and real and he's here.

“I know you all need to catch up on some things but I do have some pressing matters to get back to, and I brought a birthday cake that I would very much like to eat.” Dean doesn't know if he will ever be able to feel this much joy ever again.

“And I insisted on a birthday pie as well, though it is not traditional I thought it may be appreciated.” Dean’s heart could have exploded right then and there. Cas is the best thing that ever happened to him.

“Get some plates Sammy.”

They sit down, Cas and Dean on one side, Sam and Jack on the other. They eat cake. Dean eats pie. They tell Cas about the things Dean left out of his prayers, like Dean’s application to a local mechanic, and how Eilleen has been staying over more and more. They all hug Jack goodbye and he promises to drop in sometimes. Sam leaves to call Eilleen, and finally Dean and Castiel are sitting side by side in the empty kitchen. Cas speaks first.

“I got you something.” Dean blushes and averts his eyes from the man beside him.

“You didn't have to Cas. You coming back is pretty much the birthday gift of a lifetime.” Cas chuckles at that but slips his hand into the breast pocket of his coat all the same.

“I wanted to. You deserve good things, Dean. Especially on your birthday.” Dean wants to make a joke about how utterly unworthy he is of anything Cas has to offer but the words die in his throat as Castiel stands from his seat to kneel on the cold floor beside him. Holy shit.

“I heard your prayers Dean. I know how hard you tried to get me out. I know about your mom’s ring. I could hear the life you planned out for us. I heard everything. I could see you too. I know how hard you have been working to be true to yourself. I never regretted for a moment that I let the Empty take me. Not one. You are worth everything. I rebuilt Heaven for you, Dean. Everyone will benefit but I did it for you. You are so full of love. From the moment I raised you out of hell I knew I would never lay my eyes on another soul as beautiful as yours. I know I do not technically exist and you are legally dead but I do not want to spend another moment without you. So, Dean Winchester, will you marry me?”

Dean is on his knees, hands cradling Cas’s face, lips crashing against the ex-angel’s before he can even utter his response. He’s been wanting to do this for years. Dean kisses with every ounce of adoration he has in him, pushing away only when he needs to breathe. Their foreheads rest against each other, two sets of tears mixing on cheeks. They are breathing the same air, eyes still closed, chests rising and falling in frantic harmony.

“Yes! I love you. I love you so much I can hardly stand it.”

They're kissing again, soft and sweet. Dean’s fingers are threaded through dark hair, he never wants to let go. They stay kneeling on the bunker floor wrapped in eachother’s arms for what feels like an eternity. Once Dean can feel his knees giving out he stands and drags Cas along with him, the shorter man scooping up the ring box on the way. Dean hadn't even seen the ring yet. Cas clutches his hand and rests it over his heart while he fumbles to get the jewelry free.

It's a simple band, nothing flashy or ornate, but Dean’s eyes catch on something engraved inside. Cas reads his mind, the same way he always does.

“For Love,” Castiel smiles that same watery smile that is seared into Dean’s heart.

“The engraving, that's what it says. I made it before we came.” With those words he slips the ring onto Dean’s hand. He doesn't let go, only uses one hand to pull Dean back in, kissing him with all the love in the world. Dean kisses back, matching him move for move.

The next day they walk hand in hand through the door of the lone jewelry store in Lebanon, Mary’s old ring in Dean’s pocket. Lighter silver than the one on Dean’s finger but fitting all the same. They get it engraved too.

“We are.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Destiel #destiel fanfic #also this is my first try and fanfiction since like 2015 so here we go

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katehuntington · 4 years

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Title: All I Want - part three Fandom: Supernatural Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester (Bobby Singer, Castiel Mary Winchester and many more mentioned) Pairing: Dean x Reader Series summary: Sam and Dean come across an object that could be the solution to Michael. The Pearl of Baozhu grants the beholder’s deepest desire. Once Dean focuses on his wish, the archangel remains caged in his mind however. Instead his former girlfriend Y/N shows up, who was killed in 2010 in Detroit, by no other than Lucifer himself. Summary part three: Still in shock after Y/N’s unexpected return, the Winchesters fill her in on what has happened in the past ten years. Learning about all the ones they have lost, is a little too much for her to take in. Warnings part three: NSFW, 18+ only. Spoilers season 14 episode 13. Angst, fluff. Swearing, alcoholism. Descriptions of flashbacks and memories. Mentions of character death, time in Hell, torture and nightmares. Anxiety, grieving over lost loved one. Confusion that comes with time travel. Word Count: 5377 words Author’s note: Part three of a multi part miniseries, based on the 300th episode “Lebanon”. Beta’d by the lovely @kittenofdoomage, @winchest09, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish, and @thinkwritexpress-official. Thank you all so much for your feedback!

All I Want Masterlist

“So, long story short,” Y/N summarizes, “Sam jumped into the pit with Lucifer riding piggyback, Cas pulled him out but forgot his soul. There was a civil war in Heaven. Cas declared himself God and released the Leviathan and when those ugly suckers were defeated, our angel buddy and you--” she nods at Dean, “- got sucked into Purgatory, which is a place that actually exists, apparently.”

They are in the kitchen, seated at the four-person table. The hunters raided the liquor cabinet, all in need of a drink after the rather unexpected and staggering turn of events. Y/N takes a shot of whiskey and puts the tumbler down on the varnished wood with a bang, shoving it across and motioning the older Winchester for a refill.

“Meanwhile, Sam hit a dog and you escaped Purgatory, but Cas didn’t. Then there was this whole deal with the tablets and the trials, which almost killed your brother. You let an angel - who actually turned out to be a different angel - possess Sam in order to save him. There’s a second civil war upstairs…” She knocks back her head, downing the glass in one go. “I mean, what is it with those halo idiots? Haven’t they learned anything from watching humanity slaughter each other for centuries?” “Y/N, I know this is a lot, but you need to slow down a bit,” Dean advises, but she snatches the bottle from his hand and pours herself another. “I’m nowhere near done. Where was I?” She looks up at the ceiling of the kitchen for a second while thinking, until it comes to her. “Oh, right! The angels fell, you took on the Mark of Cain, beat that Knight of Hell chick Abaddon, then got yourself killed. Again. But, oh wait, it gets better! You woke up a demon and had a fun summer with Crowley.” Her voice pitches a little higher, a hint of panic audible now. Dean watches her process the information which is so clearly overwhelming her and eyes Sam, who is fixing her something quick to eat behind the kitchen counter. Their gazes lock on each other, both men wondering in silence if telling her the whole truth was a good idea.

“Sam cured you, but you still carried the Mark. You killed Death.” She laughs, cynically. “I mean, c’mon! Death! It’s ironic to say the least. Anyway, the Darkness was released, which - I kid you not - is God’s sister. Oh, and God? Turns out that horrible tween girl novel writer Chuck is actually the almighty creator! Ha!” “Why don’t you eat something? You’re probably hungry,” Sam suggests, putting down a plate in front of her. But Y/N isn’t interested in the sandwich and instead picks up her crystal glass again, having another royal amount of the brown liquor. Holding the tumbler to her lips while letting the whiskey linger in her mouth, she points her index finger at the younger Winchester now, who sits down opposite of the woman from their past.

“Your mom is back from the dead, the British Men of Letters turned out to be stuck up dicks. Lucifer was sprung from the cage, became President of the United States, and knocked up an intern. He had a son, his name is Jack. How am I doing so far?” she rants, setting down the empty glass in front of her. Dean looks at her, a worried frown drawing lines on his forehead. He knows her well enough to sense she needs to blow off steam. Interrupting her might not be his best move, but that doesn’t stop him from growing concerned about her current state of mind.

“There was a rift between our world and this - this Apocalypse world, you called it? And Mary and Lucifer ended up on the wrong side before it closed. Luci killed Cas, Dean was sad, Cas came back. You guys went on a rescue mission, Sam got killed. Again!” She sighs deeply, burying her face in her crossed arms on the table. “Seriously, the amount of times you two have died is giving me a fucking headache.” “Yeah, sorry about that,” Sam says, shooting her a sheepish smile before she continues.

“So Apocalypse!Michael possessed you in order to kill the Devil once and for all.” She looks up again, focusing on Dean. “But he didn’t check out like he promised - shocker, by the way. He wreaked havoc here, then out of the blue let you go. And now you guys live here in this Men of Letters bunker with a Nephilim, an angel and your undead mother.” “That’s about right,” Dean confirms. Y/N lets a breath slip from her lips and stares past him absently, the gears in her head still on overdrive. “I need another drink,” she eventually mutters, not even bothering filling up her tumbler, but taking a swig directly from the bottle. When she sets it back on the table top and lets her fingers slip from the glass, Sam is quick to get up and take the bottle back to the kitchen, putting it away in one of the cabinets; she has had enough for one day. “And I died…”

The younger Winchester turns around and leans over the counter while observing his friend, his knuckles white on the surface. He studies the breadcrumbs that litter the stainless steel surface after he cut her sandwich in two, having difficulty addressing that topic. When Lucifer flung her into that wall with such magnitude that it killed her instantly, Dean lost the woman he loved, but Sam lost his best friend. He didn’t realize how he felt about her demise until after he got his soul back, which somehow made it even worse. Like he didn’t do her justice, didn’t mourn like he should have. He doesn’t have to reply to her words, though, because Dean beats him to it. “On May 10, 2010,” he states, averting his gaze and focusing on his folded hands in front of him, still wrapped around his own whiskey glass. The date is forever etched in his memory. Her mirage haunts him on a regular basis, but on the 10th of May she’s all he can think about, like a fog that refuses to lift at daybreak. It’s one of the hardest days to get through, the day that he misses her the most. Dean’s jaw flexes and he tries to swallow down the pressure that’s gradually building in his chest.

“That’s - that’s in a year and a half,” Y/N stammers, after quick calculation. “At least in whatever time I’m from.” “Yeah, just before the big title fight between the Archangels,” Sam confirms. Y/N glances up at him, then back at Dean, who still can’t force himself to look at her. “Who killed me?” “Lucifer,” Dean recalls, venom in his voice. Her brow lifts up at the reveal. She was killed by the Devil himself? Well, at least that would make a cool inscription on her tombstone. “You guys salted and burned me, right?” she double checks, even though she cannot imagine the Winchesters giving her anything but a hunter’s farewell. Dean pulls at his lip with his teeth, the memory of the burning pyre flashing before his eyes. He remembers it as if it was yesterday. The funeral that made sure her death would be irreversible, permanent. The sight of her body set alight. In order to stop the Apocalypse from happening, he lost his brother and his girl. Sam was suffering endless and horrific torture in the pits of Hell while she was going up in flames before his eyes. God, he was a mess. His brother came home, but looking back now, deep down Dean knows he never really recovered from losing the woman who will forever have his heart. “I did,” he confirms. I did, he said. All of a sudden, Y/N realizes Sam was gone too at this point; Dean didn’t even have his brother to lean on. Pitiful she watches the hunter, who has endured so much already. He lost the two most important people in his life in a day’s time. “Then… how am I back?” she wonders. “You said something about summoning me?” “We found a magical artifact called the Pearl of Baozhu. It grants your biggest wish, basically,” Sam begins to explain. “Apparently, it’s so powerful it doesn’t need remains to resurrect someone.” “And I am your biggest wish?” She chuckles. “What? Not winning the lottery? Peace on Earth?” A small smirk pulls at the corner of Dean’s mouth; oh, he missed her wit. “No, it’s you,” he states after a moment of quiet, finally meeting her gaze.

Astonishment silences her as she stares at him, the pain of having to go through life without her still evident in his eyes. He looks so much wearier than she remembers the tough hunter, the soldier who always marched on and kept grinding. Even after he came back from Hell, the experience that tore open wounds which bled even worse than those inflicted the night the hellhounds took him. Honestly, there were plenty of times she thought he would never recover, whenever he woke up screaming from another nightmare and she had to hold him until he calmed. And yet, he didn’t seem as burdened as he does now, and that is saying something. It’s as if time broke him down bit by bit as he grew older, until there was nothing left but a ruin.

Dean said it’s 2019, which means he’s forty years old now. His frown lines lay deeper, so do the crow’s feet by the corner of his eyes. There’s a scar on his chin that wasn’t there before, covered by his stubble. His hair is a little longer, but only by a quarter of an inch. Age has not done a number on him, because he’s still handsome, but trauma and loss surely have. Knowing that her own death had a substantial part in the neverending sorrow and guilt she knows the hunter carries breaks her heart, because if anything, she would never want to cause him such agony.

“We were together,” she says, ending the silence.

It’s more a realization than it is a question, but Dean nods either way. Her jaw lowers slightly, her mouth opening, but she has no idea what to say. She was frightened when she heard she was on a collision course with death. But now she’s made aware that her future self and Dean are going to face evil as one hell of a power couple, that fear diminishes. She was a teenager when she first started developing feelings for the oldest Winchester brother. She never acted on it, the hunter’s life always getting in the way of their romance. But somehow, despite destiny, despite the horror show that is their reality, they found their way to each other.

Seeing just how much her departure wrecked him, she reaches out, moving her hand across the table to take his. She squeezes softly, running her thumb over his skin, rough from the many fights he’s faced. He visibly relaxes, cherishing the moment he never thought he’d have again. Y/N forces herself to avert her eyes, aware they aren’t alone. She glances at Sam, who watches the two, smiling, but his content expression dissolves when she inadvertently turns the conversation in a harrowing direction. “What about the others? How’s Bobby?” she wonders, oblivious to the painful reply that is to come.

Dean’s face falls, closing his eyes in apprehension. Shit, he wishes he didn’t have to break the bad news to her. Bobby Singer was like a father to all of them, but Y/N spent the majority of her childhood under his wing. After her parents died, he took her in and raised her as his own, made sure she could go to school, that she could be a kid. Hell, he was her father, maybe not genetically, but he was the wise man who taught them that family doesn’t end in blood.

Sam stares back at her, then swallows thickly, letting his head hang. Analyzing his stance, the smile on her lips dies down, frantically searching for an indication that says it isn’t so. When the tall hunter is unable to return her gaze, she fixates on Dean, tears already glazing over her eyes. “Y/N...” He takes her hand in his now, trying to sooth her and cushion the blow, but he knows there’s nothing he can do that would take the pain away that is about to hit her like a freight train. “No...” She shakes her head, unable to accept it. “No no no no...” “I’m so sorry,” he says softly, his heart breaking as he breaks hers.

Her bottom lip begins to tremble, her face contorting as she fights the emotions that quickly overpower her. Shimmering pathways of anguish find their way down her cheeks, eventually falling to land on the wooden surface. Y/N wipes her cheeks dry, but it’s no use, new tears forming faster than she can erase. And so she brings her free hand up to cover her mouth, holding back a sob. “W-when?” she stammers, her voice shaking. “How?” “In 2012. He... he was shot,” Dean explains, trying to get the words across as gingerly as possible.

She shuts her eyes now, her throat closing up and she bites her bottom lip, trying her hardest not to break down in front of the boys. She has so many questions of which the answers terrify her. “Did he die alone?” She barely dares to look up again, meeting Sam’s gaze this time. He shakes his head, offering her a comforting smile. “No, we were right there with him,” he assures. “He’s in Heaven,” Dean consoles, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand. “Cas double checked.”

Y/N nods slightly, sniffling as she digests the news. Knowing that he’s in a good place right now doesn’t stop the grief from tearing her apart, because she has no idea how to go through life without her mentor to council her, but at least he’s not suffering anymore. A shuddering breath escapes from her lungs as she collects herself. “What killed him, is it--” “- dead. Yeah, we made sure of that,” Dean guarantees. “Good,” she says, her voice having gained some strength. “What about Rufus? Ellen & Jo?” Sam sighs and looks down, painfully confronted with how many people they’ve lost over the years. “They’re all gone,” he states, still leaning heavily on the countertop. Shocked, Y/N stares at him, unable to believe how many have perished. “So, of the original crew, you two are really the last ones standing, huh?” “Yeah, I guess we are,” the younger brother confirms. “But we met some great people along the way, I’m sure they’ll be excited to meet you. We’re not fighting the good fight alone, by any means.” “Glad to hear that. Just, not today? I’m not sure how much more I can take,” she almost pleads, her voice raspy from crying.

Dean watches her closely, guilt constricting in his gut. Unknowingly, he has pulled her from a time where things weren’t all that bad. If she’s from October 2008, he has just returned from Hell. Bobby was alive, Sam was okay, so were the other people she considered family. They were growing closer, on the verge of giving in to the attraction they felt for each other. But now it’s just the three of them and a ten year gap between her lifetime and theirs. She must be feeling completely out of place, disorientated, exhausted. “Why don’t we go pick out a room for you, so you can lay down for a bit?” Dean offers, squeezing her hand gently to get her attention. She agrees and gets up from her seat without another word, mentally too tired to argue. The alcohol is coursing through her system, and although she doesn’t feel highly intoxicated, combined with the range of emotions she just went through, it’s doing a number on her. Honestly, she’s down for a nap, preferably one that lasts a day or two. Dean lets her go up the two steps first, ready to catch her might her coordination fail her after all. He glances over his shoulder at his brother, who picks up the untouched sandwich and carries the plate to the sink. “Go ahead, I’ll clean up,” Sam offers. Thankful, the older Winchester forces a small smile before he leaves the kitchen.

Quietly, Y/N follows the broad shouldered hunter who leads the way, her arms crossed in front of her chest, the coolness from the stone walls chasing chills up and down her spine. It’s not just the cold, though, it’s everything. Too much information to process, too much heartbreak to endure. Her brain is overloaded, fatigue hitting her like a ton of bricks. She watches Dean turn the corner and stroll into a long hallway with doors on either side, gold plated numbers below the Men Of Letters emblem. They stop in front of room 12. “You can take this one,” he suggests, opening the door for her and flicking on the lights. “I’m right next door if you need anything. Sam’s in room 21.”

Y/N steps inside, taking in her new accommodation. Despite the use of mostly brick and concrete and the lack of windows, the glow coming from the ceiling light and the lamp on the nightstand feels warm and welcoming. A large mahogany bed is situated against the far end, a matching desk on the left with an old typewriter and a radio sitting on top. Directly behind the door there’s a sink and a medicine cabinet with a mirror on the lid, and a wardrobe next to it. “We can put a rug on the floor, if you want. I remember how you always had cold feet,” Dean suggests. She turns in the middle of the room, a small smile on her lips; he’s not wrong. “I’d like that,” she says, grateful.

A little uneasy she lets her gaze linger over the still empty cabinets and bookshelves again, feeling foreign in this future that didn’t include her, before Dean wished she was. She realizes there’s nothing to fill them with, no clothes, no books, no picture frames. “Could I maybe borrow a shirt and some sweats from you? I’m gonna have to buy some new clothes later today,” she asks, a little flustered. “Sure, but actually, uh…” He rubs the back of his neck, the way he always does when he’s nervous. “I never threw away your stuff. It’s been in boxes in the storage room, so your clothes are probably gonna need to be washed--” “- Wait, you… you saved my stuff?”

She stares at him in awe. It’s been almost ten years since she died, and he still held on to all that she owned. Sure, it wasn’t much, since they were on the road most of the time, but still. They didn’t find this bunker until a couple of years later, which means Dean had stored it in a locker somewhere, or maybe at Bobby’s, and picked it up again when they found a permanent home. He had moved her things around for almost a decade, yet never threw them out, even though he knew there was no purpose left for the items that once belonged to her. Just painful reminders of what was and what was lost. “Yeah, I - I couldn’t really bring myself to throw it out,” he claims, as if he was dodging a task that should have been done long ago. He isn’t lying. Even though he knew she was never going to return to him, that her life was lost and his love was hopeless, he kept everything she held dear. Her books, her mixtapes, her photos, her jewelry. The clothes she wore, the guitar she played. The stack of coasters she collected, picking one up at every bar they ever had a drink at, from every town they ever crossed. The old school Polaroid camera she brought everywhere, snapping pictures of everything that caught her eye along the way. Sunsets, funny road signs, captivating landscapes, interesting people. There are a few of him, of the Winchesters together, some more portraying the three of them, all squeezed into the shot. She even caught Bobby on camera, ignoring his grumpy mutters when she had fulfilled her seemingly impossible mission. There’s the music box she got from her mother when she was little, her parents’ wedding album. Lore books, weapons and crystals that Bobby gave her when she first started hunting. The enchanted good luck charm Dean gave her for her birthday. He held on to it all, because he couldn’t bear the thought of having to let her go completely.

Sympathetically, Y/N observes him. His tough exterior only lets a hint of embarrassment over something so sentimental seep through. But she knows him, she has seen the knight without his armor. She knows how badly he’s hurting. “Anyway, I’ll - uh, get you some clean clothes and dig up your stuff from storage.” He points his thumb over his shoulder a little awkwardly, excusing himself. She nods. “Thanks.”

With a faint smile on his lips he disappears, leaving the door ajar. Y/N breathes in deeply and allows the air to flow out, trying to calm herself down. It’s her first moment alone since she found herself in the year of 2019 and she cannot begin to comprehend what is happening to her. How she time-jumped a decade into the future, having history with Dean she cannot even recall. It feels like she’s in a bad daytime television show, where one of the characters has hit her head too hard and suffers from amnesia, not remembering her lover. Rubbing her forehead she turns around, trying to massage away the headache. Her eyes glide through her new bedroom again. This is going to be her home now. After moving out of Bobby’s place, she never really had that kind of stability. The closest she came to a roof over her head was her minivan, her little house on wheels.

Fingertips grace the covers of her bed, the material soft under her touch, when she hears Dean’s boots echo in the hall. She turns around as he comes through the doorway, holding two boxes with a bundle of clothes laying on top of the stack in his arms. He lowers the neatly taped carton containers to the ground, her name written on them with black marker. Dean made sure to file on the label what’s inside them. “There’s one more box, your clothes are in that one. I can put them in the washer now, so you’ll have something better to wear than my oversized stuff,” he offers. “You don’t have to do that, Dean,” she objects, but he shrugs it off. “It’s no problem.” His voice is kind, but he’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer. It’s the first time he has moved her belongings without having to fight the tears, without having to pause in order to stop himself from breaking down. He wants to make sure she has something clean and fresh to wear when she wakes up later, finally being able to take care of her again.

Dean turns the corner and heads to the storage room, his heart finally calming with the simplicity of being able to do something as domestic as washing her clothes. After picking up the last big box, he exits the storage and pulls the door shut behind him, making his way to the dorm where the washers and dryers are situated. He sets the box down in front of one of the machines, pulls his pocket knife from his belt and cuts through the duct tape. The first item he pulls out, however, steals his breath; it’s the leather jacket she wore that night in Detroit. Two days after they lost her, Dean wrapped her in linen before he laid her down on the pyre he and Bobby built, her lifeless body still in the jeans and band shirt she had on when she was killed. He took off her favorite black leather jacket, though, wanting to preserve it, even though it was a part of Y/N - or maybe because it was. Traces of faded crimson still stain the collar. Dean shakes his head, trying to ban the image from his mind. The image of the blood running from her nose and mouth as she hung from his arms, dead weight, the spark of life in her eyes long gone.

After a deep breath, the hunter collects himself and lays the leather jacket aside, then begins to carefully pick out some of her clothes. He makes a selection that fits in the drum, adds a laundry pod and turns the machine on. He hopes the old thing does a better job at washing away the memory of her death than he’s doing.

When he enters Y/N’s room again, she has changed into the black shirt and grey sweatpants he offered her. She spins when she hears him, an amused grin adorning her face. “Nice socks,” she chuckles, showing off her novelty footwear with burgers and milkshakes on them. “Shut up. Sammy gave them to me for Christmas,” he utters, a blush on his cheeks. “Your stuff’s in the washer.” “Thank you,” she returns, grateful.

A silence followers as Dean lingers in the doorway. This would be the moment to give her some space and retreat to his room, but somehow he can’t make himself step outside. He has spent too much time without her by his side already, he doesn’t want to waste a second not being with the woman he’s still unmistakingly in love with. She’s his girl, afterall. But that’s where it gets confusing, because he’s not sure how she feels about all this. Y/N was zapped from a time where they weren’t in a relationship yet, so where do they stand in this messed up mayhem? “Y/N, about that kiss earlier…” he starts off hesitant. “I, uh - I didn’t know you were from a place where we weren’t… y’know, together.”

The smile on her lips dies down as she watches the hunter, skilled in the field when fighting evil, but now stumbling over his own words. It’s only now that she realizes how surreal this must be for him. His mind probably has archives full of memories she has no clue of, simply because in her time, they didn’t happen yet. “What I’m trying to say is…” Dean takes a breath, trying to get his message across. “If I came on too strong, or made you feel uncomfortable in any way, I’m sorry.” He glances up now, watching how she slowly approaches. Gently, she takes his hand in hers, their fingers entwining. After studying their hold for a few seconds, she tilts her head and restores eye contact. The look she gives him is so warm and kind, it mends the broken man that he is. “I’m not,” she responds, her voice soft.

She leans in, tiptoeing, and presses her soft lips against his. For a good moment all his grief, the endless regret, the physical pain that became chronic, is forgotten. He closes his eyes and melts into the touch, returning the kiss without hesitation. The voices in his head are silenced, his anxiety calmed. After eight years, eight months and twenty eight days, he has found his missing piece. If her departure from his world didn’t make him realize how much he loves her, this moment surely does.

The kiss lasts a few heavenly long seconds, but then Dean parts from her, resting his forehead against hers. He sighs deeply, the air leaving him with a shudder. Still high on the ecstasy that the undeniable connection induced, she opens her eyes, but his remain closed. Wondering why, Y/N squeezes his hand. When he does look back at her, the tears bring out his green irises, like holding an emerald gem against the light. Compassionate, she cups his face, tracing the lines of his jaw. “You really missed me, didn’t you?” she perceives. He huffs; she’s putting it mildly. “You have no idea,” he breathes.

Y/N does, though. Last thing she remembers is how Dean just returned from Hell. In the four months that he was gone, she was completely at a loss. Wildflowers blossomed on his grave from her tears alone. Knowing he was enduring unimaginable torment only made it worse. But when he returned and she was able to close him in her arms again, it magnified everything she had ever felt for the man who went to Hell and back. The rollercoaster he’s riding now is one she’s been on herself, but she doesn’t tell him that; it’s not about her right now.

She kisses him again, shorter and more sweetly now, smiling at him afterwards until he returns her expression. His eyes are still shimmering, but it’s not sorrow she finds in the depth of his pupils, not anymore. It’s gratefulness, appreciation, love, for her, the girl he lost so many years ago. “You should get some sleep. You had one hell of a morning,” he says after a quiet moment, unable to look away. She scoffs. “Understatement of the week.” He nods grinning, admitting she’s probably right. “I’ll leave you to it.” Dean is about to let go of her hand, when her grip on him grows a little stronger, causing him to glance up at her, questioning. “Could you…” she pauses, not sure if she’s asking too much. “Could you lay with me, just for a while?” He reads her carefully, pained to see the hint of fear; she doesn’t want to be alone. “Sure,” he agrees, the single word soothing her.

Y/N allows his hand to slip from hers now and circles the bed, folding back the covers as Dean sits down to take off his shoes. When he leans back into the pillow, his upper body still slightly elevated against the headboard, tiredness overwhelms him. He hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in forever, Michael always waiting in the shadows when he dares to close his eyes. But when Y/N crawls into his chest, filling the vacant place that has been cold for so long, he sighs content, letting the worry fall from his shoulders. Who knows, maybe with her by his side, he might actually be able to rest.

She pulls the sheets to cover the both of them, feeling Dean’s sheltering arm wrap around her and pull her in. The kiss he presses to her hair has her bite back the tears yet again. She tries to hide it, not wanting to come across as weak or emotional. The man who has always cared for her, doesn’t fail to notice, though. “Hey…” he says, softly. “You had a lot on your plate today, huh?” She sniffles and nods, not brave enough to test her voice. “It’s gonna be okay, we’ll figure this out,” he promises. “You got me, Y/N.” “Yeah…” she whispers. “I got you.”

Dean holds her close, giving her the security and the comfort she is desperately seeking, hoping she might forget about the world she’s in now and the one she was ripped from. Absently, he rubs his fingers up and down her arm, the slow, soothing rhythm lulling her to sleep. Within minutes she’s out, the warmth she radiates slowly melting away the tension in the hunter’s stiff muscles, tired and worn from endless battles with both monsters and himself. Exhausted, he lets his cheek rest against the top of her head, allowing his own eyes to flutter shut as well. The last thing that crosses his mind before he falls asleep is a promise. Past, present, or future, Dean will always be there for the woman who makes him believe in their little slice of apple pie life. A decade of time difference will not change his word of honor.

It took me long enough, didn’t it! Stay tuned for part four, I hope I have gained some momentum now and will able to finish this series sooner than later.

Anyway, thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

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#All I Want #Dean x Reader #Dean x Reader series #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Dean fanfiction #Dean Winchester reader insert #dean angst #dean x y/n #Dean Winchester x Y/N #Supernatural #SPN #Supernatural fanfiction #SPN fanfiction #Sam Winchester #Castiel #kate huntington

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helianthus21 · 4 years

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heli pls omg for the prompts, number 1 ily

And also pls 32, because i LOVE your writing and all those prompts are so great i can’t choose only one!

💜I combined them, hope you enjoy💜 ~1,4k

Even as a chained-up, shivering mess, Cas is still adamant about helping them. No matter how often Dean tells him to just concentrate on not dying from the attack dog spell, he won’t accept the confinement to bed Dean wants to impose on him. The fact that this renders Dean a distracted, worrying mess be damned. Out of the corners of his eyes, he keeps checking Cas for any signs of the curse worsening every now and again.

Sam’s already gone out to follow a lead half an hour ago while Dean insisted on staying in the Bunker to keep an eye on their patient. If something happened to Cas and he wasn’t there, he would never forgive himself.

Cas has been staring at nothing for such a long time that a jolt goes through Dean almost the same time as Cas startles out of his seat.

“Hey, buddy, you alright?” Dean asks, momentarily stuck to his chair by the shock, fingers freezing in place over the keyboard of his laptop.

But Cas doesn’t answer. Instead, his body jerks again once, twice, until Dean realizes what he’s doing.

He’s fighting against the hold of his handcuffs.

They’re angel-proof. So it comes as a shock to Dean when the angel actually succeeds.

Metal of the cuffs broken in half, Cas stands hunched over his side of the table, as Dean regains his marbles and approaches him carefully.

“Cas, hey,” he says in the most non-threatening voice he can manage. “It’s alright. Let me-”

But Cas looks up then, the usual deep blue of his eyes giving way to blood red, and veins standing out prominently on his face. Shit, he looks terrible.

“Are you in there, bud?” Slowly, Dean reaches out a hand.

A dreadful mistake.

The moment his hand nears Cas’ shoulder, the angel launches at him, hissing like an angered predator and throws Dean over the table.

Dean protects his head during the fall, but his back still gets the brunt of it, and it takes him precious few seconds to put himself up again with a grunt, muscles aching. It gives Cas enough time to go after him.

Dragging a chair between them as a weak barrier, Dean tries to reach his friend. “Cas, please,” he begs. “I know you’re in there. It’s the curse. Fight this!”

Eyes crazed and red, Cas tilts his head at him as though trying to understand. As though Dean was speaking in a language that needed deciphering.

The confusion only holds him back for a moment. In the next, the chair between them goes flying, and Cas is up in Dean’s face again, fist twisting the fabric of Dean’s shirt.

“Cas, look at me!” Dean almost yells. “It’s me. Dean. I’m your best friend. I’m-”

His heart misses a beat as Cas actually pauses mid-strike.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Dean whispers. With a shaking hand he reaches out to lower Cas’ fist away from his face. “There you are. Come back to me, Cas. Please.”

Cas blinks, and a hint of blue shines through the angry redness in his eyes. His grip on Dean loosens, and the more he comes back to his senses, the more Cas seems to crumble.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he says, gaze dropping to the ground in shame.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” insists Dean. He holds out a hand to Cas’ forearm to keep him upright. “That wasn’t you, it was the curse.”

“I hurt you,” Cas rejects Dean’s easy absolution. “I could have killed you.”

“I almost killed you too!” Dean says, voice too loud with emotion. “Don’t think I can just forget that, though you seem to have. I wanted to kill you. You would’ve died by my hands and I wouldn’t even have cared.”

“But you didn’t,” Cas argues. “Even at your worst, you still didn’t submit to the dark inside you that was tempting you. That takes true strength, Dean.”

“God, even when I try to kill you, you praise me as some kind of national hero.” Putting his arms around Cas, he half-carries him to the little armchair in the corner, a far more comfortable place for him to rest.

“You have to chain me up again,” Cas urges.

“Cas!” Dean’s irritation is audible in his voice now. “How? You ripped right through the only cuffs that could hold you.”

Cas swallows, gaze faraway as though he’s already given up. “Take me to the dungeon.”

“No!” Dean protests firmly. “No way I’m putting you there.”

“Dean-”

“I said no, and that’s final!” Dean says. Then, in a much softer tone, he adds, “You’ve broken through the curse just now, you can do it again. Listen, Sam will find Rowena and she’ll lift the curse from you if it’s the last thing she does. Meanwhile you just breathe and look at me.”

Cas doesn’t react.

“No drifting away, man. Eyes on me,” Dean orders, because that’s a language Cas understands. “You hear me, Cas? Keep your eyes on me.”

Finally, Cas lifts his head again, enough to return Dean’s steady gaze.

They stare at each other, the only way for Dean to make sure Cas stays with him. Stays himself.

After a stretch of time Dean cannot measure, Cas falters. “I killed hundreds of you once.” He licks his dry lips. “Thousands.”

Dean frowns. “What?”

“When Naomi tried to condition me,” explains Cas. “She made me kill thousand versions of you to break me. They were very realistic.”

If Cas thought the confession would make Dean turn tail, he missed by a mile. Saddened by the thought of how much Cas had to go through without Dean even knowing, he surges forward to capture Cas in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Cas’ shoulder.

“Why do you apologize?” Cas sounds incredulous. “I almost killed you, for real, after that.”

Pulling back far enough to look him in the eyes again, Dean strokes a thumb over his sweaty cheek. “You’d never.” He drops his hand, swamped by unbidden memories. “I asked Death to get rid of you. I never even thought about looking for a way to get you back.”

“I drove your brother insane.”

“I never listened to you,” Dean says. “Took you for granted.”

“I lied to you for a whole year.”

“I only called you when I needed help. I made you into a hammer.”

“I’m the reason you lost Lisa and Ben.”

The mention of their names is like a punch to Dean’s gut. He’d buried this little taste of the apple pie life that was granted to him, this unreachable dream, so deep inside the box with the label Do Not Touch. He never dared to look back. It feels so far away now, after all these years. Like from another lifetime.

Shaking his head, Dean tries to clear away the dark clouds inside his head. “No,” he rasps. “You’re not the reason. I fucked that up all on my own.”

“You deserved a happy life,” Cas says regretfully. “That’s why I didn’t turn to you for help, back then. You seemed so… content. I didn’t want to ruin that for you.” Cas laughs dryly, a sad, ugly sound. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t happy,” Dean admits, for the first time to anyone other than himself. “I wasn’t even really content, I…” He shrugs. “Fuck, I’d have jumped at the first chance of getting back into the life. If you’d come to me, I’d-”

He’d have been so goddamn thrilled. Not happy, not so fresh in mourning for Sam as he had been. But relieved, at the very least.

He can’t say it, but Cas seems to get the meaning of the unspoken words regardless.

“Me too,” he says, tentatively reaching out to take Dean’s hand in his, as if testing how much he’s allowed. “If… If you had asked me to stay, I would’ve.”

Dean’s head jolts up, the regret of a past ridden with wasted opportunities shining in his eyes. The regret, but also the hope for that something different he’s always been craving, more and more strongly as the years passed.

“When?” Dean asks, breath held in fear and hope and anticipation. “If I had asked you when?”

“After Stull.” Cas shakes his head sadly, as if resigned at his own pitifulness. “Anytime.”

It might be wishful thinking. It might be a trick of the light, but Cas’ eyes seem to clear of the angry redness of the curse, making way for that wonderful, wonderful blue.

Distantly, he hears the ringing of his phone announcing an incoming call. None of them pays it any mind as they keep staring into each other’s eyes.

“Stay,” Dean asks.

The most beautiful smile lights up Cas’ face, like the sun shining through a clouded sky.

It’s answer enough, but he still says it aloud.

“Of course.”

#replies #destiel #prompts #ficlet #spn #heli tries to write #long post #cas says it aloud bc he's not a coward like certain other ppl from other fictional universes👀#this one fought me vanessa and it got way longer than intended #hope you like it<3 #bend-me-shape-me

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wikiangela · 3 years

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my thoughts as I was watching the episode (didn't feel like doing multiple posts, felt easier to do just one lol):

awww Dean has a dog 😍

Dean trying to make his bed cracked me up ngl

actually it's funny seeing them do such ordinary things lol

this dog is so cute I can't 😩😍😍

"Pie Fest" 😂 "this is my destiny" okay 🤣 so dramatic over pie, but that doesn't surprise me 😂

Sam THANK YOU for mentioning Cas (and Jack) 😭

Idk but I'm kinda loving that Dean's trying to live his life? "If we don't keep living, then all that sacrifice is gonna be for nothing" I mean that's true 🤔 (even though I'd love to see Cas back but not getting my hopes up)

pie in the face lol and Sam's laugh is so great haven't heard that in too long

(this post is gonna be long af 😂 it's been just 5 minutes hah)

"Singer and Kripke" aw cute

vamp-mimes cracks me up every time, even though I saw the sneak peak before 😂 and he's so serious when he says it hahaha

I cannot stress enough how I missed that about Dean

okaaay so vampires. cool.

is that the trenchcoat in the trunk? is it? it looks like it? IS IT? or am I just imagining things??!! I paused and I've been looking at it for like five minutes trying to figure out if it's the trenchcoat wtf (I mean would it even make sense? Cas was taken in that trenchcoat? unless he had a few? And, I mean, he had, right? it's all so blurry in my mind now, I need answers)

Sam, let Dean have fun for once, geez 🙄😂😂😂

I don't remember that girl (Jenny, was it?) (okay, I googled it, and I still don't remember her and what happened with her haha all I know is it was in season 1 so 💁‍♀️)

oh nevermind, she dead now (dead dead) so whatever

as soon as I saw the metal thingy (I'm an English major but somehow I can't remember what it's called in English or in my native language??) I knew what was gonna happen but...

NO DEAN BABY WHYYYYY 😭😭😭 he can't die like that noooooo

he's like, accepting that he's gonna die? omg I'm crying 😭😭😢

I'm literally sobbing right now and how is he dying its only been 20 minutes of the episodes what the fucking fuck how am I supposed to get through 20 more minutes

"don't leave me" omg Sammy 😭😭💔💔💔

"I can't do this alone"

"yes you can't"

"well, I don't want to"

where have I heard that before? 🤔😭😭💔

"I love you so much my baby brother" is that the first time Dean said that to Sam in the show? I'm pretty sure I don't remember him saying that before - and I am crying so hard I can barely see what I'm writing thank God for autocorrect 😅

nooo Dean 💔💔😭 my favorite character since the moment I saw him and now he's dead and I wasn't emotionally prepared for that and how am I supposed to just go about my day later this is the worst why are they doing this I hate how attached I got to this show and the characters FUCK

And my mom called me just as Sam was about to burn Dean's body and I had to pretend like I'm okay. I WANT TO GO BACK TO THIS MORNING BEFORE I DECIDED TO WATCH THE EPISODE FUCK

so Sam's alone now, with the dog

but my question is: What the hell happened to Eileen? weren't they, like, in love? didn't she come back? (I feel like we actually don't know so I'm seriously asking) why isn't she there? wtf if I don't see Cas or Destiel, at least let me see my girl Eileen at the end 😭 and Sam being happy with her

baby's grieving and I cannot stand to see him so sad SOMEONE GIVE HIM A HUG (or me, I could use a hug too 😔)

I physically cannot stand seeing Jared cry - I feel like I'm literally falling apart

WHY IS THIS SO SAD wasn't it enough that we have to say goodbye to the show? couldn't those be happy tears about a happy end? THEY DON'T DESERVE THIS

okay, "agent Bon Jovi" made me chuckle through tears, I LOVE DEAN SO MUCH

lights out in the bunker made me cry even more

DEAN'S IN HEAVEN

BOBBY

OG BOBBY

ARE YOU KIDDING

idjit 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I missed him much more than I expected omg

"that kid of yours" I. am. not. okay.

Jack setting things right, I love it ❤️ thank you for Bobby 😭😭😭

"everyone happy, everyone together" is it everyone though?🙃

"the Heaven you deserve" DAMN RIGHT HE DOES

"CAS HELPED" I CANNOT HANDLE THIS

right now I would just like to take a second to appreciate how fucking hot and handsome and beautiful Jensen is because I needed to pause and calm down a little and focus on something else

and Jensen is fucking gorgeous and Iove his fucking smile and his fucking lips - you know, when I started watching it, for about the first season I had to rewind every time Dean was talking because I couldn't focus on anything but his lips hahaha good times, wish I could forget about this show and watch it all over again and get supper annoyed at everything all over again but I still love this show more than any other even though I've been watching it only for the past 2 years haha

I think I'm good, back to watching:

I don't think I can express how I missed the og Bobby ❤️

AND BABY'S THERE OH YEAH

that smile, Dean/Jensen ugh you're killing me

"Hey Baby" ❤️❤️

CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SOOOON THERE'LL BE PEACE WHEN YOU ARE DONE

AND I JUST STOPPED CRYING AND NOW IT STRTED AGAIN AAGGHCHFJHSH

"love this song" me too, Dean, me too 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️

(wow, too much emojis, bitch, chill)

baby Dean that's too much

and Sam seems so happy 😭😭

but who's the wife, please tell me it's Eileen, I miss her where is she that's not fair

Sam as a dad is just so precious and cute and so fucking great I can't 😭😭❤️❤️ love that for him ❤️

but why aren't there any pics of Cas and Jack? C'mon, Sam 🙄 (I mean, there surely were some pics of them, we know for a fact there was at least that one Cas picture in a cowboy hat so there should me more ugh)

"it's okay, you can go now" why are doing this to me again

I mean, I'm happy that Sam got to live his life to the end and died of natural causes or old age or whatever

brothers togheter again 😭😭

I'm a mess

also, let me just ask, WHERE'S THE ANGEL

WHERE THE FUCK IS CAS

just a cameo at the very end would be great

"and cut" this made me cry again fuck

so that's the end, huh? brothers together again, in Heaven?

well, I choose to believe that at some point they reunited with Cas, too and that's that

overall, it was not what I expected, and I didn't have much hope for destiel but I hoped for some acknowledgment of his confession by Dean or at least a cameo

I mean, he's been one of the main characters for so long and they didn't even have him in the finale? and he was mentioned literally twice?????!?? FUCK YOU WRITERS

so, I didn't love it, but I didn't hate it that much, is was meh, It wasn't a good conclusion to the show and I'll be bitter about Cas till the day I die and I didn't like how Dean died, I mean, he was literally impaled, in my opinion it wasn't "going out in the blaze of glory" like he always wanted

this is a long post, I'm not even gonna reread before posting, but those were my genuine reactions haha

if you read it, wow, I'm so sorry haha

now I need to lie down and cry before I can function again and do my homework so that's fun

I'll see y'all in your notes as I reblog every fucking thing about 15x20 😊👌

just one more thing at the end:

THIS SHOW RUINED ME AND I STILL LOVE IT WHY AM I LIKE THIS

anyway, I'm gonna go cry now hahahaha I'm not okay

I'm gonna live in denial about Cas not being there haha

I hope the rest of the spn family is holding up somehow because I'm losing it and I need some fix it destiel fics asap

okay not gonna make this longer haha

bye, have a good day 🙂👍❤️ (don't mind me, I'm losing my mind)

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caranfindel · 4 years

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Fic: Nothing to win and nothing left to lose

gen, s10 | about 2000 words | R for violence and language | characters: dean winchester, sam winchester, castiel |

Written for the following anonymous prompt in the Sam Winchester Prompt-a-thon: Sam: “Please, Dean… Please, just… Just hit me.” This probably isn’t what you had in mind, Nonny, and I kind of hate posting it as a fill for this prompt because it became so Dean-centric. And honestly, even I think it’s a bit much. But here you go. Pure whump without plot, hurt without comfort. Takes place during the end of season 10, when the Mark of Cain is ramping up Dean’s violent tendencies.

+++

Sam has been standing in Dean’s doorway for five minutes. Dean has been ignoring him for five minutes. He’s aware Sam is there, of course. Hyperaware. The Mark on his arm is like an extra set of eyes and ears, an enhanced version of his consciousness of Sam’s location that normally only kicks in when he’s in full-on hunting mode. But nothing is normal now. The Mark wants to know where Sam is at all times. Dean does not know why the Mark cares so much. He does not question it. He upends the whiskey bottle with a trembling hand, drains the last of it, and does not ask Sam what he wants.

“Talk to me,” Sam finally says. Soft. Tentative. “Tell me what’s going on.”

The thing is, there are things Dean can't tell his brother.

He cannot tell Sam that when he looks at him like that, with the puppy dog eyes full of sympathy and concern and a bit of fear, Dean cannot tell him he has a vivid sense memory of putting his hands on the sides of that face and pressing his thumbs into those sad eyes, pushing until he feels the pop, rendering Sam incapable of giving him that look. He cannot tell him Alastair used to bring him boys who looked like Sam, boys he’d made to look like Sam, and laugh with glee when that was the first thing Dean did to them, every time. No, he cannot tell him that.

What he can say is “Sam, you need to not be here.”

“Where else do I need to be?”

Dean runs one hand down his face. The other clenches into a fist. “Just not here, okay? You don’t know what’s going on.”

“I do, Dean. I know more than you think.” Sam steps closer, still tentative. He’s not quite within Dean’s reach. The Mark is very aware of the distance. “I know that whatever the Mark is doing to you, it builds up. I see the shaking, and the drinking. I know that after a hunt, after you kill something, after you… after you hurt something, you’re better for a while. And I know… I know you shouldn’t be hunting right now. Not the way you are right now.”

Something hot flares up behind Dean’s eyes at that, because hunting is the only thing that helps the way he is right now, and Sam knows that, and here he is saying don’t. The Mark throbs its angry assent.

“So I was thinking,” Sam continues. “If you need to hit something, if that’s what helps. Hit me.”

Oh. The Mark’s reaction is orgasmic. Yes, yes, yes.

It’s an effort of will to tamp it down. “No, Sam. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do, Dean.” Sam’s wearing his earnest face now. “I do know. This would let you release some pressure, or whatever you want to call it. And no one else needs to be involved. No one else will get hurt.”

But Sam doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t know that if Dean starts hitting him, he might never stop. Dean stands, as much to distract himself from the Mark’s bloodlust as anything else. “This is crazy. I would hurt you. Bad.” And… he wants it.

Yes, the Mark shouts. We will hurt you. Bad. And it will feel so fucking good.

Sam takes one step closer. “Cas will be back soon. Whatever you do, he can fix it. Please, Dean… please, just… just hit me.” He takes another step. He’s in striking range now. As Dean’s shaky hands clench and unclench, seemingly of their own free will, Sam takes a deep breath, plants a hand on Dean’s chest, and gives him a shove.

The reaction is half Dean and half Mark, and it’s instantaneous. Sam’s head snaps back, hair flying, as Dean slams a fist into him again and again and again. His jaw, his shoulder, his abdomen, his ribs. Sam manages to stay upright, staggering backward until he’s backed into the wall. He doesn’t raise a hand, not to shield himself, not in self-defense. He flattens his palms against the wall as Dean relentlessly pummels him. The Mark hums in pleasure at the blood dribbling from the corner of Sam’s mouth, at the satisfying crack of his ribs, at each wordless grunt of pain. Another blow to the face makes Sam’s head bounce off the wall, leaving him glassy-eyed and wobbly.

Dean grabs Sam by the collar and drags him to the desk on the other side of the room. He clutches a fistful of hair and slam’s Sam’s head onto the desk. The delicious crunch of his brother’s nose breaking doesn’t satisfy him, though. It only makes him want more. He yanks Sam’s arm behind him, pulling until he feels the shoulder pop out of its joint. Sam cries out in pain but remains limp, pinned to the desk.

Dean flips him over, keeping him bent backward at an almost impossible angle against the desk. Sam scrabbles for a foothold. Blood flows freely from his mouth and nose. It’s beautiful. The Mark wants more. Dean wants more. He picks up the empty whiskey bottle and smashes it into the wall. Sam flinches at the spray of shattered glass, and his eyes widen in fear when Dean puts the broken edge against his throat, but he still doesn’t try to save himself. It’s infuriating. The Mark wants a fight, not a punching bag. Dean grabs Sam’s hair again, pulling his head back to expose his throat. “Is this what you wanted, Sammy?” He presses the jagged glass against his brother’s throat, breaking the skin. “Are you happy now? Think you fixed me?”

Sam stares, still glassy-eyed, looking for something in Dean’s face and not finding it. He sighs and closes his eyes. Like a lamb to the fucking slaughter. But then he kicks out, sweeping Dean’s feet out from under him. Dean laughs even as he falls to his knees. Yes, the little shit is finally fighting back. This is good.

Sam stands up with a groan of pain. Not completely upright; he’s hunched over a little, favoring his cracked ribs, cradling his useless left arm against his chest. Still, in this position, he could easily kick Dean in the face. He could make a run for the door. Instead he stands there, bleeding, wheezing, watching like Dean’s gonna smile and say thanks, that was good, I’m done now.

But Dean is not done. He gets up slowly, watching for a reaction that never comes, moving between Sam and the door. If his brother had any sense at all, any instinct for self-preservation, he wouldn’t let Dean block his exit. But then, if he had any instinct for self-preservation, he wouldn’t have thrown himself at the Mark, would he?

Dean moves forward. Sam retreats, one step for each of Dean’s, until his back is against the wall again. Dean doesn’t even know what he’s going to do next until he realizes he’s still holding the broken whiskey bottle. He pins Sam to the wall with a forearm to the throat. The broken glass makes a quick jagged slash across his already bruised cheekbone. Sam’s only reaction is a hiss of pain. In fact, he looks like he’s struggling to remain conscious. He is heavy on Dean’s arm, as if the arm against his throat is the only thing holding him up. His breaths are quick and shallow. His blood-spattered lips are starting to turn blue. His broken ribs have probably punctured a lung, and in another life Dean would have to do something about that. In another life, nothing would be more important.

But in this life, oh, in this life Dean sees the pain and sorrow in those glassy eyes. Those fucking puppy dog eyes. And he wants it to stop. He could take care of it now, could make sure he never has to see that look of fear and pity again. He rests the edge of the broken glass against Sam’s temple and slowly carves a path toward his left eye. Slowly, because he wants Sam to have time to catch his breath, to realize what’s going on, to put up a fucking fight. “Sammy?” he says, grinning as he inches the glass forward. “Aren’t you even gonna try to stop me?”

But the horrified cry of Dean! comes from behind him, not from his brother. It’s Cas. Looks like the fucking cavalry has arrived. The angel grabs his arm, forcing him to drop the whiskey bottle. Dean is shoved across the room before he has a chance to fight back.

Now that Sam is no longer pinned upright by Dean’s arm, he slides down the wall and hits the floor with a quiet gasp of pain. Cas drops to kneel at his side. “Why would you do this?” he murmurs, pushing a clump of bloody hair out of Sam’s face. “I told you what would happen. I told you it was an insane plan.” He turns to flick cold blue eyes briefly in Dean’s direction. “Leave us alone, please.”

“It’s my room,” Dean growls.

Cas turns back toward him, furious and somehow even colder. “I will remove your brother from your room once I have healed him to the point that he can walk. Until then, leave us.”

Dean’s tempted to scribble a banishing sigil. God knows there’s enough blood on the floor and on his hands to do it. But, well. He’s out of whiskey anyway; may as well go find a refill. He looks down on his broken brother, slumped on the floor, barely conscious, surrounded by blood drops and sparkling shards of glass. Sam’s a fucking wreck. And it’s his own goddamn fault.

“Don’t do that again, Sam.”

Dean leaves before Sam can respond.

...

Cas finds him in the library, half a bottle of whiskey later. He stands silently, angrily, waiting for Dean to speak.

“He okay?” Dean says. He knows Sam is okay. Cas wouldn’t be out here if Sam weren’t okay. But it feels like he ought to ask.

“He’s resting,” Cas answers. “I healed his concussion. And his fractured nose and cheekbone. His orbital fracture. His broken ribs, his internal bleeding, his dislocated shoulder. Oh, and his punctured lung. He’s fully oxygenated now. I thought you’d want to know that.”

“Okay, Cas,” Dean sighs. “I get it.”

“Do you? Do you really? Because you almost killed him, Dean. I knew it was a stupid idea. I told him it was a stupid idea. But I still never believed you’d go so far. I’m sure he didn’t imagine you’d be willing to beat him to death!”

(Dean cannot tell Sam that in his dreams, he chases him through the bunker with a hammer in his hand. That in his dreams, no one comes to the rescue. That in his dreams, Sam drops the knife because he thinks there's something in Dean that will stop him, and that the despair in his eyes when he realizes he’s wrong makes the sensation of swinging the hammer against his skull that much sweeter. That he’s had these dreams ever since Sam thrust the demon cure onto him, but the difference is that he no longer considers them nightmares. No, he cannot tell him that.)

Tomorrow, or the next day, the guilt will set in. Tomorrow or the next day he will remember the way Sam’s bones cracked under his fists, remember Sam’s cry of pain when his shoulder was forced out of its socket, and he’ll want to vomit. But right now he wants to enjoy the afterglow. He picks up the bottle and heads for his room.

He makes one stop on the way. Sam’s door is partially open. Dean stands inside the doorway for a few minutes and watches his brother pretend to sleep.

“I mean it, Sam,” he says quietly. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Sam doesn’t respond.

(Dean cannot tell his brother that he never stopped thinking about ripping his throat out with his teeth, feeling the hot arterial spray against the roof of his mouth as Sam gurgles and chokes and gasps and grabs for him as if he could still save him, as if he would still save him. No, Dean cannot stand over Sam with Sam’s blood in his teeth and Sam’s hands weakly clutching at him and tell him that; he absolutely cannot.

But oh, dear God, he wants to.

And if Sam’s not careful, he’s gonna find out anyway.)

...

(The title is from “With or Without You” by U2.)

#spn #my fic #hurt sam #moc dean #oh sam #Sam Winchester Prompt-a-thon

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sinfulbrothers · 4 years

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You got the letter I sent you a few weeks back.

I have to admit I didn't expect you wouldn't receive it, I had a demon drop it off to wherever the hell you were staying at.

I imagine it's a crappy motel with shitty TV stations, ones we used to stay at all the time when we were kids.

Remember when dad would get angry every-time he came back to the motel room and see we were up sleeping? Remember that?

He'll he'd probably still yell at us for being such fuck ups.

You can ignore my texts and calls as much as you want Dean.

But we both know you have to come home sometime.

I'm getting tired of this cat and mouse routine.

I hunt you down, you run off to god knows where and then I'm stuck trying to find you again.

But I have a feeling I won't be the cat for long.

-Sammy W.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Three more calls and four texts, he still hasn't picked up," The youngest winchester glanced over at the male across the table. Castiel sat there hands resting on the table looking over pictures from different traffic lights, cameras and whatever else he could find. "The son of a bitch thinks this is some sort of game. Anything, Cas?" He raised an eyebrow at the used to be Angel.

The male shook his head, "It is just the same old stuff, Sam. No clue of where Dean would be hiding out. The only person that knows where Dean is hiding would be Crowley. And he and I aren't on the best of terms.." He made quotations around the word 'terms' and 'best'. He still really wasn't the best at English. "Maybe we should wait until there is a police report on a Chevy Impala. On baby."

Sam shifted in his seat frowning, "Dean is smart enough to not get caught doing something illegal in baby. If there was a police report it would be at some bar or store. Like the gas station that was robbed." He slid his laptop over to the male, "Check out some things while I go on a run. There isn't much you need to know about computers." He smiled softly sliding his phone into his pocket, heading out to his '65 mustang, light blue. A beautiful car. He jumped in and he was off to the nearest store.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A familiar '65 mustang pulled into the Save-A-Lot parking lot, he couldn't help but smirk. Seeing his big bulky dork of a brother climb out of the drivers seat. It was a wonder how he fit his big moose ass in there. The car was shorter than Sam was tall. He snorted sitting back in the drivers seat of the impala, hands on the steering wheel. "Here Sammy Sammy Sammy." He whispered whistling, pushing the drivers seat door open he climbed out. Cracking his knuckles following up behind his brother. Wrapping an arm around Sam's neck yanking him to the ground with inhuman strength.

"De--" Was all the young winchester got out before the lights went out for him. Dean lugged the tall male over to the impala, throwing him in the back seat among the other beer bottles and trash.

——————————————-

"Wakey, wakey, Sammy."

"You wanted your big bro back, well you got 'em."

"Sam."

"Sammy."

"SAMANTHA."

Sam's eyes shot open, his ears ringing, what the hell? A frown plastered on his lips as he tried to sit up, a force was holding him down. He heard it again, "Sammy." That was Dean's voice, what the hell was going on? Wasn't he supposed to be at the shopping center? "Aww look Sammy is confused again. How cute. Let's cut to the chase," The eldest winchester spoke up, his voice rough like a rocky road. He came walking out of the corner of the motel room swinging a baseball bat. Twirling it and throwing it in the air, only to catch it again. "You," He pointed the bat at Sam, poking his nose with it lightly. Sam pushed it away giving his demon brother a face.

"Need to stop looking for you. Yeah I caught the jiff." Sam stood up brushing his brown hair back out of his face.

Crack.

Dean swung the bat, smacking Sam right in the shin. For a second Dean swore the bat had snapped, then he realized it was Sam's shin. "Sit down." He growled at his younger sibling. Sam obeyed. "Obey like the good dog you are. Isn't that right, Sammy?" He chuckled, gripping the baseball bat tight. "You either stop looking for me or I'll put you down right where you stand, got that? I won't hesitate to tear your pretty little head off with my teeth. Bet it'll taste real good. Have some actual freedom from all this hell around ya, Sammy." He winked at his brother.

"But Dea--"

Crack.

"Fuck! Stop hitting me with the damn bat!" Sam cursed loudly attempting to take the thing from Dean, it was a lousy attempt but at least he tried to do something. "I'll fucking stop looking for you. Just tell me one thing...why are you doing this? These crimes? The killings."

"The killings? Those are all angels. All 14 of 'em. Of course we aren't counting the humans, right?" Sam didn't even recognize his brother behind that wolffish grin. His gaze dropped to the floor shuddering in major discomfort. "Crowley sent a few demons to try to take me out. Not even the king can contain this beast." Sam opened his mouth to speak, "Ahh except..you have a body behind your little adventure. The man you made sell his soul so you could find me. Naughty naughty sammy. Put him through that and he still gets killed, just sooner. Oh by the way...tell angel wings I said hi."

Dean swung the bat hard.

"Fucking Hell that's gonna leave a nice bruise."

———————————-

He awoke to a dog sniffing at his jeans and clawing at his jacket, attempting to locate anything edible on him. Or maybe it was getting ready to eat his face off. It didn't need to happen either way. Sam shoved the creature to the side earning a Yelp/Whimper from the creature as it bolted down the alleyway and out into the streets. An on coming car stated, 'Stupid animals! Should all be killed!' Speeding by the creature. People had no respect for these animals, or much of anything in that matter. He pushed up sitting up against the wall, yanking his phone out of his pocket, "Cas? Yea. I need a ride back to the bunker. Think I'm by the barber shop and the tattoo parlor east of the grocery store. Yep..it was Dean. No he didn't say anything about you. He did break my shin. Just..get here as soon as you can." He sighed shutting the phone tossing it across the alley way.

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"They have towed your car away," Was the first thing the used-to-be-Angel said to the male, helping him up to the car. "You will have to get it another time we need to get back to the bunker. There is something you need to see. It's important." Cas walked around the other side of the car jumping in the drivers seat, starting up the piece of crap he began driving off in the direction of home. But it wasn't home for Sam. Not without his brother. His brother was his home and would always be.

"So what's this thing and why is it so important?" He raised an eyebrow staring Castiel down.

The Angel sighed gripping the wheel loosely as he leaned back getting comfortable, "It's Dean. He was by the bunker while you were out. This was after I was told to look up things on the inter webs. The bunker door flew open and before I knew it I was on the floor. He took something from your room but I cannot figure out what." He sighed heavily, frowning immensely, "I was thinking it was some books...or maybe the tracker you had put on him.."

"The only thing in my room was papers and books, he would've had to taken some books. If not then..pictures? That wouldn't make any sense." He shook his head staring out the window, wincing. "We'll figure it out later. Right now I need to get my leg fixed up. Can't do anything on a broken bone."

"Alright. I will get the supplies while you stay put." Cas climbed out helping Sam down into the bunker, making sure he stayed sitting down before wandering off to gather some supplies.

Sam fiddled with the loose pieces of paper on the table, sliding them over the edge watching them float down to the floor. Something he would do as a kid, watch paper float down to the floor. It didn't sound fun and it wasn't. Sam chuckled remembering when Dean got angry when Sam would cover the motel room in paper. The crinkling noise always annoyed the shit out of Dean. He slid another paper across the wooden surface, catching it right before it fell.

'I sure enjoy your love letters, Sam. But has anyone told you you're not my type? Tall and lengthy isn't my thing. By the time you read this I'm sure I already broke one of your legs. Told you to leave me alone and then you're back here planning something again. As usual. For every time I catch glimpse of you I'll kill someone. Child, adult, elderly. I'll kill them. This is a warning. One slip up and someone is going ten feet under. Oh..I left a bit of a surprise under your pillow. Hope you enjoy it. It seems you need a girlfriend if you catch my drift little brother.'

He really didn't even want to know what Dean had left him under his pillow, probably some sex toy. He shuddered quickly shoving the paper into his pocket. "Find everything okay?" When Castiel nodded he smiled softly, sliding his pants leg up, hoisting his injured leg up onto the table. "I was thinking, maybe we can take a break for a bit. Let Dean cool off before we try to find him again. He seemed pretty pissed off. Sure the mark is the cause of that but Dean sort of always has his panties in a bunch."

The Angel simply nodded, "Okay." After that the room remained silent.

—————————————————

He had the right plan, all he needed was for Sam to take the bait. Hell he wished he would've stuck with killing people, been more fun and the police would've been involved. Sure they were a pain in the ass but still. He found it funny as hell to watch Sam struggle to get around the cops when they got suspicious of him asking "too" many questions. Whatever the hell that meant.

Dean brushed a hand through his ever so growing hair, sitting back in the bar stool. Sam had just found the the toy his older brother had left him. "Get a girlfriend," Dean scowled taking a long gulp of beer, spinning in his chair and sliding off. He pushed by a few customers walking out, climbing into his "baby" he drove off.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••>

Fool me once

Shame on you

Fool me twice

You're probably dead

He was correct about Sam, the man really was trying to locate him again like the crazed idiot he was. Damn. Dean threw the impala door open walking over to his brother gripping his shoulder tight, a faint crack starting. "Whatcha doing Sammy? Looking for me again? Did you not get my letter? Man I know I'm not good with the whole pen pals thing.." He sighed heavily cracking Sam upside the head, sending him stumbling into the side of the tow truck building. Sam felt a hand wrap around his throat, then black eyes meeting his. "You won't stop until I'm back, guessing that means I have to kill ya."

Sam's vision darkened as the grip on his throat tightened, then everything went black.

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artemiswinnick · 4 years

Text

Eli’s Coming

I was tagged in a Songfic challenge by @gemini0410 and @vicmackeybullshxt and given Eli’s Coming by Three Dog Night:

https://open.spotify.com/track/29k9SMi3bZi1lhbGBLcpwI?si=RPbxRxUwTpCuQeVBSeZfvw

This song gave me some hella Supernatural vibes and I had a little blurb lying around in my drafts from years ago, so I decided to edit it and extend it inspired by the song. Please don’t ask me how this fits into canon or anything, because I genuinely have no idea. I think I just felt like Dean really needs a hug, ya know?

Warnings: Explicit language, references to violence, taking the lord’s name in vain and twisting around the Old Testament to suit my fictional needs.

The fire blazed higher and suddenly went out. There was a pitch-dark blackness.

“Is that supposed to happen—?” Sam cut off as the flame rose again, burning quietly now, illuminating two girls. Their vessels were a pair of twins—one in a night dress, the other dressed for a night out on the town. They peered at the brothers and the angel expressionless, the infinity in their eyes in stark contrast to the youth of the bodies they inhabited.

“Aladril? Adriel?” Castiel asked, stepping forward.

“You summoned us, Castiel?” They asked in unison, haloed by soft blue flames.

“Well, that’s creepy...” Dean muttered under his breath.

“We need your help,” Castiel ignored him, addressing the twin angels.

“You know that we cannot help you.” The angel in the clubbing outfit replied.

“You should not have woken us.” Said the other, adjusting her white nightgown grumpily before looking at her sister’s get up. “This is the fashion of the time? Either a sack or a prostitute's corset—?”

“What do you mean you can’t help us?” Dean cut in, uninterested in allowing the angels any time to adjust to their vessels. Castiel tried to hold him back but he shook him off and stepped forward. “No, Cas, what was the point in summoning the Bopsy twins if they’re not even going to—?”

“We went to sleep for a reason.” They said loudly, speaking together again. Now, they both looked irritated as they turned to Castiel.

“We know you don’t believe us,” Said the one in the night gown. “But there’s a war brewing and if we stay it will only strengthen their resolve in continuing.”

Cas shook his head. “That’s what I’m trying to say. Adriel, the war has already started, even with the both of you asleep. We’re… We’re losing. We’re desperate. If you don’t help us, it won’t be only the humans that are wiped out but angels as well. That includes you.”

The twins frowned slightly.

“What?” Aladril’s eyebrows knitted together worriedly even as she tugged at her corset top. “... Seriously, what century are we in? Have corsets come back into fashion—?”

“The demons are working on finding a way into heaven. When they do, they’ll find you there and slaughter you along with the rest of the host.” Castiel squared his shoulders and fixed them both with his gaze. “We need your help.”

“Do you expect us to fight alongside you?” Aladril asked slowly.

“As we did when you were but a fledgling, Castiel?” Adriel raised one eyebrow— it was starting to become easier for Sam and Dean to tell the two apart and it wasn’t just the hilarious outfits. Aladril spoke slowly, her expression calm and patient while her words poured like honey into their ears. Adriel, for as soft as her nightgown looked, had a voice that sang like a knife’s edge, her mouth twisting into a smirk as she watched Castiel blush thinking of their first battles. “You were so cute back then, full of such innocent purity…”

“Listen, as much as we’d love to join you all for a trip down memory lane,” Sam finally lost his patience. “But we have… need of your assistance. We’re planning an offensive on the demons in a week--.”

“Absolutely not,” Aladril shook her head. “We don’t harm humans.”

“But they aren’t humans! They’re demons--!” Dean exclaimed.

“In human vessels, much like these,” Adriel looked down at her current form. “Or have you forgotten that-- Castiel what are these two called?”

“That one’s Dean, and the other is Sam,” He quickly clarified.

“Dean,” Adriel turned the blond man’s name over in her mouth like it was venom on her tongue. “Humans have such stupid names…”

“Right, because Adriel and Aladril for a pair of twins isn’t just as stupid or confusing,” He retorted. The flames around the angel burned brighter suddenly.

“How dare you--”

“Are these the archangels you promised us, Cas? Really? Two girls in high school?” Dean shook his head, enjoying the expression of fury on the celestial being’s face.

“Excuse me?” Adriel’s voice grew dangerously low.

“Adriel-“ Aladril tried to hold her back but her sister was incensed. She stepped out of the circle of flames easily, undeterred by the celestial fire. Dean crossed his arms.

“These two girls have been waging holy war since before you were a twinkle in the Creator’s eye, human,” She spit out. “I could kill you with my bare hands, even in this stupid vessel--”

“Adriel!” Aladril cut her off, “We just told them we don’t harm humans!”

“We could always make an exception for this one,” Adriel muttered, but backed off.

“I- We apologize.” Aladril said, shooting a look at Adriel who crossed her arms. “But, like my sister said, we are very old and with age comes experience. We will not be joining you in battle, Castiel. Isn’t there any other way we can help you?”

“I-- Well… Sam, had a question,” Castiel supplied, his face fallen.

“Go ahead,” Aladril motioned for Sam to step forward.

“Well,” He cleared his throat. “We captured one of the demons recently, interrogated him--.”

“Tortured,” Adriel coughed into her fist, getting looks from everyone around the room. She raised an eyebrow at them all. “Let’s call a spade a spade, gentlemen. Continue.”

“We left him securely tied up, all the right incantations in place but he got loose when we were switching shifts guarding him and… well, he decapitated his own vessel so he’d get sent back down to hell,” Sam finished uncomfortably, feeling the angel’s expressions of judgement settling on him.

“... Alright?” Adriel frowned. “I don’t see what--.”

“He drew runes on the wall in Hebrew before he did that in his own blood,” Sam continued. “It translates to… Eli is coming.”

That got their attention. The twins snapped their focus to the tall man with long dark hair.

“What did you say?” Aladril hissed.

“I said Eli’s coming,” Sam repeated. “The demon wrote that on the wall in his own blood—.”

“Yes, yes that Eli is coming…” Adriel stepped forward out of the flames again, peering up into his eyes. “I’m assuming you killed this demon?”

“Uh...Yes?” Dean answered, quizzically looking between the angel and his brother who were locked in a staring match. Her infinite eyes moved to his, an expression of rage and annoyance marring her features.

“Well, fucking wonderful!” She exclaimed.

“Adriel, language!” Her sister admonished.

“Oh, don’t chastise me, Aladril, I think you know the expletive is warranted!” Adriel turned to her sister. “They’ve been cursed and they don’t even know it!”

“Cursed?” Sam frowned.

“Listen lady, we’re pretty familiar with curses, alright?” Dean waved his hand dismissively. “So why don’t you just tell us what we��re dealing with so we can grab the eye of newt and a root of cabbage or whatever the fuck we need to break it—.”

Adriel spun around on him, the flames bursting up and making him stumble back away from her.

“What you need is the blood of the demon that cursed you!”

“Well, fuck…” Sam cursed quietly. Dean’ nostrils flared as he crossed his arms.

“You mean… but the Book of Samuels was always considered to be an exaggeration—,” Castiel stuttered, an uncharacteristic sight. Aladril looked to him with sympathy.

“Unfortunately, it’s quite the contrary… The actual curse of Eli was much more powerful than the story Metatron fed the prophet.”

“But why would he lie? It’s— it’s in the old testament! The humans have been telling themselves this story for thousands of years—!”

“It cast a bad light on God’s everlasting wisdom and judgment?” Adriel shrugged. “We tried telling you even some in the host could not be trusted—.”

“Do you all want to sign each other’s yearbooks or something?” Dean exclaimed. “Or can we do that after you help us lift the curse?”

Adriel crossed her arms and looked to her sister.

“I say we let them die. This one’s annoying.”

“Adriel!” Her sister exclaimed.

“Die?” Sam choked out. “What the hell is the curse of Eli, exactly?”

“Well, the family-friendly version was written in the book of Samuels,” Aladril began. “Eli was the high-priest of the Hebrews, he and his family were cursed to never live to an old age due to the misdeeds of his sons...”

“Misdeeds like… cheating at poker?” Dean prompted, earning an elbow from Sam..

“Misdeeds like taking prime cuts of meat from temple offerings and committing adultery with the women who served at the sanctuary entrance,” Adriel replied dryly.

“Right, those kinds of misdeeds…” Dean rolled his eyes. “So we’re supposed to freak out because we won’t live to an old age? I wasn’t expecting to do that either way…

“But you said that was the family friendly version…” Sam brought up, looking to the angels.

“Yes, well… one of Eli’s sons tried to break the curse by bargaining with a demon,” Aladril revealed. “Who, in, the guise of helping him, actually amplified the curse. Now it wouldn’t just kill Eli and his sons— it would damn them for eternity. In hell with Lucifer.”

“Oh… Oh, shit,” Sam rubbed at his face. “I know where this is going—.”

“But… how long do we have before it takes… effect?” Castiel asked slowly.

“Depends on what else the demon did— curses can be personalized. If you change the wording,” Adriel explained

“Yeah, we know,” Dean addressed her snappily. “So. What do we do?”

The angel fixed her eyes on him..

“Now? Well, now we hold hands, Dean.” She grinned, her teeth sharp and glistening in the blue fire light.

—————-

A half hour later, Dean was seated, criss-cross apple-sauce style next to Sam in a circle with Adriel and Aladril. Adriel sat to his right and reached a hand towards his, smirking.

“Is this really necessary?” He grumbled as she twined her vessel’s slender fingers with his, smooth and cool to the touch.

“Not really, but it makes it easier,” Aladril replied, reaching one hand to Sam and the other to her sister. “We need to read your souls.”

“You can do that?” Sam asked, staring at the two archangels in wonder. Dean wished he’d wipe that expression off his face. Sure, these two weren’t exactly like all the other angels they’d met-- even other archangels. They’d stepped in and out of the ring of celestial fire earlier like the flames were nothing more than chalk on a sidewalk... He had to admit it had impressed and terrified him in equal measure. They seemed to radiate power, even in their young vessels, but not just power… Goodness. Truth. Mercy. All of the cheesy shit he used to believe angel’s stood for. It made Dean suspicious of them, despite how highly Castiel had spoken of them before.

“You don’t trust angels,” Adriel said suddenly, looking him in the eye.

“So, when you say that you can read our souls, what you really mean is read our minds?” Dean asked sourly, yanking his hand from hers.

“I was just guessing, based on your behavior,” She extended her hand back to him innocently. He took it with a heavy sigh. He didn’t have much of a choice, did he?

~Liar~ he thought, in hopes she would hear it. She frowned slightly, making him smirk. ~Can’t read my thoughts, my ass...~

“Curses leave a mark on your soul. If we look hard enough we should be able to see what exactly they did to you and your brother,” Aladril continued explaining to Sam.

“Neat trick,” He smiled a little. The angel smiled rather proudly back.

“It’s a talent we perfected a long time ago, when we were still fighting on behalf of the heavenly host.”

“It’s probably why Castiel woke us and not, I don’t know… anyone else,” Adriel muttered.

Castiel, leaning against the far wall, shrugged.

“A lot has changed since you first went to sleep, we were out of options.”

Adriel locked eyes with him from across the room, reading the deep sadness in his eyes. He really had changed so much.

“You’ll have to catch us up as soon as we’re done with this,” She murmured. He nodded quietly, looking down at the ground. Adriel cleared her throat. “Alright. Sister, when you’re ready.”

Aladril squeezed her hand and closed her eyes. The boys watched them sway gently back and forth like grass in a light summer breeze, a quiet hum like electric static rising, emanating from them. That same static seemed to seep from their palms, tingling down the men’s fingertips, up their arms, into their chests, up into their minds…

Dean felt exposed. This was not the first time someone had allegedly “read his soul.” Famine, one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, had done so once and reported that his soul was a withered, starving mess. He wondered what Adriel was seeing. Deep down, he didn’t dislike these angels, even if he was frustrated they wouldn’t help fighting the demons. But it was almost refreshing to see they actually cared for human life, even the lives of the demons' vessels. Not even he and Sam cared all that much about it anymore. It was impractical, he always argued with himself, you couldn’t fight demons effectively if you were worried about their vessels. But he could remember a time when they’d cared. When hunting was just about protecting people and not saving the whole world and heaven to boot.

“You’ve been cursed to die in your next battle,” Adriel suddenly spoke, her voice strange. Dean’s eyes snapped open and he was shocked to see tears in her eyes when she looked back at him.

“Our hit on the shipment is in a week…,” Sam said.

Aladril nodded, eyes opening slowly. “We need to find the demon that cursed you and perform a cleansing ritual with his blood before you go anywhere near the shipment. There’s sure to be fighting and the curse will kill you immediately.”

Adriel stood suddenly.

“I-- uh, my vessel… She’s thirsty.” She looked down to Dean with a stare that reached into his soul.

“Take me to some water?” She asked, her voice a whisper.

For reasons unknown, he just nodded, standing slowly and leading her out into the bunker hallway. He’d just found out he had a week to live and the only way to remedy it was the blood of a demon currently partying it up in the depths of hell. His prospects, as per usual, were not looking good… but when the angel stepped out into the hallway with him, his imminent death was the last thing on his mind.

“You’re not actually thirsty, are you.” He stated rather than asked. Adriel shook her head, locking eyes with him. His mouth went dry and he looked at his feet. “What did you see?”

“Dean…” The way she said his name then made him look back up. She handled the word with care now rather than venom, her expression soft as she reached a hand up to his face. She shook her head slowly, examining his eyes. “You really have no idea, do you?”

“What? That my soul is a shriveled husk?” He tried to laugh it off, but it didn’t reach his eyes and he didn’t step away from her touch. There was something so comforting about the numbing static sinking into his cheek from her fingertips.

“You believed Famine when he told you that, huh?” She shook her head sadly. Dean frowned.

“How did you know that--?”

“I just read your soul, Dean. I know a lot of things about you now,” She smirked softly, caressing his face before pulling him into a hug. It should have been awkward, he should have stepped away and made an inappropriate joke to break the tension but, for once, Dean trusted that the gesture was sincere. That the truth and goodness and compassion he felt emanating from Adriel was real. It felt like she was pouring it into him, filling him with mending light. He felt empty, but better somehow, when she finally stepped back. She locked eyes with him again. “Famine lied to you. Do you understand? Just like Michael lied to you. And Lucifer. They read your soul blinded by their own weaknesses, their vision warped by their own greed… What they saw was themselves mirrored in you. Don’t believe them.”

Dean nodded, his mouth falling open slightly. She really had read his soul. Or his mind. Or whatever she’d done.

“Why won’t you fight with us?” He finally asked after a long moment staring into her eyes. Her brows knit themselves, some of the ethereal warmth and love disappearing to be replaced with familiar annoyance.

“We’ve already done our share of fighting, Dean. We’ve seen too much--.”

“Or you’re just scared,” He cut her off. She may have the power to read his soul, but he wasn’t blind himself. There had to be a reason two such powerful beings refused to get involved in a fight and, seeing the fire in Adriel’s eyes, he had a hard time believing it was just their compassion for human life. “What happened before you went to sleep for eternity? Cas never told us.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“That’s because Castiel is pure of heart and knows better,” She appraised the man standing in front of her. In truth, she’d only agreed to the long sleep for Aladril. But… now was not the time to get into her and her sister’s past. She turned to go back into the room where Aladril, Castiel and Sam were waiting. “Come on. We don’t have very long and… Eli’s coming.”

#supernatural fandom #SPN #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #original characters #songfic challenge

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