#and ironically dean distrusts cas's work

[shallowrambles]

A bad Dean, "Abbadon."

So after seeing how closely some of Henry's and Cas's words line up, in some cases almost word-for-word…

I've been thinking a lot about the spectre of Josie Sands...and the initial shadow self to Josie: the OG knight of Hell, Abaddon.

Abbadon seized on Josie's sacrificial sense of love to defeat enemies and secure her position in Hell, the way Crowley will seize on Dean's self-sacrifice for his fam and loved ones to secure his Hell position.

And idk, it's just so interesting as a lead-in to how I think of Dean's next arc, which is a reversal of power. Cas gets to get the idealized role of Dean, reading ppl and taking care: talking almost like a thematic narrator at times, a mouthpiece for "killing of innocents" and "not becoming a monster", a de facto “wife” with (clown college?) Colette (Colt?) treatment. Sam gets to do the ballad of the Campbell "my-way-of-the-highway," taking extremes to keep his family safe.

When Dean moves to the Cain parallel and enters his full-on reversal arc, Charlie gets killed, and it's "Sam's fault," the way that Kevin getting killed was "Dean's fault." It's notably reversed. (Albeit in a Sam fashion, with more, uh, "Sam-typical" strategies.)

////

Anyway, back to Dean and the mark. After knocking out Crowley's enemy, Dean will continue on a failed crusade to save Cas from his enemy, Metatron. The implication is that defeating Metatron will get the angels home, and maybe even release Cas from his work obligations. Obligations which Dean has been, once more, struggling with.

///

Anyway. Abaddon could indeed be a "shadow" Josie, a stand-in for her worst self: her darkest, deepest jealousy. Josie is actually a lot like Hannah. She's a figure that is "more like Henry." She's in Henry's social class, higher ranking, "more equal" and "closer to him" through work.

Josie is committed to the cause (like Cas's lieutenant Rachel was), and she entices the Henry away from Millie and John, the way Hannah takes Cas away from his human family.

I mean, there's also this whole line running through SPN that we need work and work gives us purpose, but it can spiral into meaninglessness when it takes us away from our loved ones. (Hunting functions the same way. Live to work; work to live etc etc.)

Anyway, BOTH Josie and Hannah try to renew his loyalties to career and underline to him how important his work is:

//

Back in season 9, Dean is weird at the sight of Hannah, and Sam shoots Dean a weird side-eye for it. Feeling like an outsider, and bristling at seeing the work that "takes Cas away from them," at being in Cas's "frat bro world" again, Dean immediately jumps to trying to show off his and Sam's skills.

///

SPNwin Millie and Ada.

Seems like women who worked with Henry were a fear of Millie's. After giving (misplaced, presumptive) "parenting advice" to Millie (hi, that's so Sam-coded for her to be a know-it-all here!), Ada puts her whole foot in her mouth, and Millie's back straightens up SO FAST.

But Ada clocks Millie's defensiveness, so underlines that she and Henry just worked together:

Ada is herself a parent, but she was so gloriously annoying in this scene at first. I'm with Millie on Ada's stock advice of John needing more time, more space--that he'd be fine:

"Wow you learn all that from one week on the road with my son?"

Ada recovers with some grace, giving Millie the address where John's staying for her peace of mind, and Millie thanks her for that.

Like the protective jasmine, Millie still loves Henry, so Ada coming out of the gate so ham-fisted was pretty ill-chosen, haha! Poor dear.

Millie's journey will be accepting that Henry made his mistakes (Ada says of Henry in this very convo: "He had his secrets. He made his mistakes." BUT Henry was always motivated by love and wanting to protect them, and Millie makes her peace with that.

The same way Dean makes his peace with Cas wanting to protect him in The Trap in taking on the Mark and in Despair with, "She's gonna kill you, and then she's gonna kill me." There's some tacit acceptance for HOW Cas operates in the last season.

Societal expectations of protection are in the mix. But also fear.

#and ironically dean distrusts cas's work #rightfully so #but he trusts in hunting almost too much! #not seeing the same dynamics at work but at a lower level #dean/cas #cas henry parallels #dean millie parallels #josie sands #abaddon

[spohkh]

miracle on cornelia street [dean/castiel]

so BASICALLY sarah @adanceinasnowglobe and i were talking about what everyone would be up to post-series -- yknow, like, now that theyre all safe and healthy n everythings cool and destiel is officially together. yknow. as happened in canon -- and we were like so obviously destiel get a house, and thats kind of the basis of this verse so !! this is the foundational fic for what i HOPE will be a series of fun lil day-in-the-life drabbles, from both me and sarah!! 

ehehehe :-) enjoy!

read on AO3

The house is a quaint thing, sitting low and snug under a pair of shady oak trees in a quiet suburb just outside of downtown Lawrence. Its brickwork face is weathered—definitely in need of a good power wash—and the roof is just as worn. The bottom step to the porch slants unevenly, and the porch itself has cracks in the concrete. There are chips in the paint on the window frames, the iron porch railing is rusting, and who knows when the gutters were last given a proper cleaning.

There’s a lot of work to be done, but standing there in the small front lawn, Dean Winchester can’t say if he’s ever seen anyplace else so perfect as the house at 3767 Cornelia Street. Dean’s house—his home. His home with Cas.

“Can you believe it?” he quietly says to Miracle, who has been sitting patiently by Dean’s leg. Miracle tilts her head and wags her tail. Dean looks back up at the house. “Yeah, me neither.”

The sound of a familiar car rumbling up the road snaps Dean out of his reverie. He rubs a knuckle at his eye and clears his throat and tries to look like he hadn’t been standing in his front yard about to cry while talking to his dog, christ.

The car rolls to a stop on the curb just in front of the house. The driver’s side door opens, and Sam slowly unfolds his ridiculous limbs as he gets out. It’s always a wonder how he can fit himself into a car at all. Sam gives a dorky little wave as he ambles over to where Dean is standing.

Dean peers behind Sam, trying to see into the car. “What, no Eileen?”

“Hello to you, too. Dick,” he replies snarkily. “She’s wrapping up a work thing. She’ll come over when she’s done.”

Dean sucks his teeth in disappointment. “Ah, well. Guess you can go home then.” Sam shoves at his shoulder. Dean just laughs and pulls Sam in for a proper hello hug.

“Why are you standing out here, anyway?” Sam asks when they part.

“Can’t a man just hang out in his own front yard? Accompanied by a dashing canine companion?” He leans down to pat Miracle on the head.

“I guess…” Sam looks down at Miracle. When she tips her head up and gazes back at him, Sam snorts.

“What?”

“Miracle on Cornelia Street,” Sam says with mirth.

Dean squints at him. “What?” he repeats, now more incredulous.

“You know—like Miracle on 34th Street. But we’re on Cornelia, so.” He nods down at the dog. “Miracle on Cornelia Street.”

“Dude.” Dean rolls his eyes at Sam’s goofy grin and starts walking up the path to the house, Miracle trotting behind him. “Shut up and come inside already.”

Sam follows after him, pausing just inside the threshold as he spots something on the doorframe. “Oh, classy,” he says, throwing a sardonic look to where D.W. and C.W. are scratched into the wood.

“Just wait,” Dean jokes with a toothy smile, “when I got the time I’m gonna draw a little heart around it.” He was joking, but now that he said it, he kind of wanted to.

Cas looks up from the stove when they walk into the dining room. He’s wearing one of Dean’s old AC/DC tees, the logo all but worn away from being washed so many times. He’s usually in some ratty tee or other when lounging around these days. But in honor of Sam’s visit today (Cas’ words) and to seem a little more dressy short of donning his usual button-downs (Dean’s private opinion), he’s also wearing the cable-knit cardigan Sam got him as a gift last Christmas. “Hi, Sam.”

Sam leans against the counter that separates the dining and kitchen areas, craning his giraffe neck to catch a glimpse at the stove. “Hey, Cas! What’cha cooking?”

“Nothing. Dean made it. I was just watching the pot so it didn’t boil over.” He locks eyes with Dean, his intent stare very clearly communicating I did not touch the chili I added nothing I did not touch the dial I was just watching it like you asked so don’t even start.

Dean just smiles as he walks past the counter and steps into Cas’ space. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, and busses Cas on the cheek.

“You’re welcome,” Cas replies warmly. He’s gazing up at Dean with those summer afternoon blue eyes, standing in one of Dean’s shirts and that dorky cardigan, and Dean starts to get full of that feeling from out in the front yard again. If they were alone, Dean would probably say something recklessly sappy like I am so stupid in love with you.

As it is, Dean clears his throat and turns back to Sam, slinging an arm around Cas’ shoulders, and says, “He did the salad.”

Cas sneaks him a knowing look before, thankfully, putting his attention on Sam without commenting on Dean’s hasty redirection. “I did the salad,” Cas agrees blithely, and places the salad bowl on the counter for Sam to see, seeming pleased with himself.

Sam looks between the two of them, an amused tilt to his eyebrow that Dean implicitly distrusts. He’s definitely thinking mocking thoughts about the two of them. But he just quirks a smile and says, “It looks great.” Shrewd little diplomat.

Cas shifts to the side to see past Sam’s shoulder. Sam glances behind himself before shooting Cas a confused look.

“She’s still at work,” Dean tells Cas, guessing who he’s looking for. “Sadly.”

“What, am I not good enough?”

“Of course you are,” Cas promises earnestly, just as Dean says, “Well…”

Sam’s opening his mouth to retort, probably something absolutely scathing, when his phone chimes. He pulls it out of his pocket, a smile spreading over his face. “Speak of the devil,” he says, then tips his head with a grimace, “as it were. That was Eileen. She’ll be here soon, so I’m gonna go wash up.”

“Bathroom’s down the hall—“

“Dude, I know where it is. I did help you guys move in.”

Dean spreads his hands in assent. “Fine, christ, I swear never to be a good host to you in my home ever again. Go ahead and go take your dump now.”

“I’m not gonna—ohmygodnevermind.” He turns on his heel and huffs down the hall, Miracle trotting after him, the tags on her collar clinking together jauntily.

Dean reaches past Cas to turn the burner off, then lands his hand on Cas’ hip. “Have I told you today how cute you are in that sweater?”

“Yes.” Cas brings his hands up to cradle Dean’s face. “Four times.”

“Make it five.” Dean kisses him. He pulls Cas into a hug, pressing his face against Castiel’s shoulder. They sway into each other. After a warm moment, Dean says in a low voice, “The first family dinner in our house.”

Cas hums a soft, contented sound in agreement. “The first of many,” he responds, just as quiet. Dean squeezes him tighter. He knows they’re both thinking about Jack and Claire, their bedrooms sitting empty and waiting for whenever they can find the time to visit—and Kaia and Alex and Jody with Claire, if they can, and Charlie and her girlfriend, and Bobby, and all the other wayward extensions of their sprawling family caught out in the wind. Their house isn’t big enough to host everyone, but with Sam and Eileen up the block and the bunker just a few miles out, there’s plenty of room to put up people who come out their way. Dean has the hope that 3767 Cornelia Street becomes a common pitstop for folks—a suburban Roadhouse, a tidier (much tidier) Singer Salvage.

Dean presses a kiss against Cas’ neck, and Cas breathes a sweet little sigh that pushes all thoughts about future dinners right out the window. Fuck, this dinner could go out the window, for all he cares. He kisses a little higher up, right under Cas’ jawline, before pulling back to catch Castiel’s darkened gaze. “How ‘bout we ditch the nag and go have a private party of our own?”

“Dean, no. I worked really hard on that salad.” He sounds perfectly serious, but the playful glint in his eye gives him away. Dean snorts, mumbling oh, forgive me, Chef Cas as he leans in again.

Just as they kiss, Sam walks back in. “Hey, I think something’s wrong with your sink–- oh, sorry.”

“Huh?” Dean reluctantly pulls away as Sam clears his throat, looking sheepish. “What’s wrong with what, Sammy?”

“Uh, with your bathroom.”

“The bathroom? Oh, what, you clogged the toilet?”

“Wha— N—  I DID NOT SHIT IN YOUR BATHROOM.”

“Then how did the toilet get messed up?”

“It’s the SINK, the SINK—”

“You took a shit in the sink?”

Cas pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dean…”

“What? He started it.”

“Started WHAT?”

Dean snaps his fingers. “The end of the world.”

“Oh! My god!”

“I guess technically, yeah, since god is our kid...” He turns to Cas. “Weird, weird lives we lead.”

Cas just shakes his head, clearly exasperated. Sam has given up on speaking completely and has fallen back on making a gesture like he’s one second away from grabbing Dean by the throat.

“I was there for all twelve years of it,” Sam says to Cas, “and I still can’t believe you stayed with this guy.”

“Well,” Cas muses serenely, “you’ve been here a lot longer than me.”

Sam grimaces when Dean throws him his best shit-eating grin. Nothing like his two favorite people bonding over how much of a pain he is.

The sound of the front door opening distracts them, and then a voice calls, “Knock knock! The life of the party has arrived!”

“Eileen!” Sam exclaims happily. Miracle takes off down the hall, Sam hot on her heels.

Dean chuckles at Sam’s unabashed excitement, then gives Castiel another peck on the cheek before moving away from him. “Can you put everything out on the table? I’ll go check out the bathroom sitch real quick.”

Cas catches his hand as he starts to leave, softly saying his name. When Dean looks back at him, Cas smiles and says, “I love you.”

Dean wonders if maybe three time’s the charm and he should just give in to what his body wants him to do. If a man has a right to stand around and cry messily anywhere in his own home, surely the kitchen would be the place to do it. The kitchen, after all, is the heart of any house.

But Dean doesn’t. He indulges in a little sniffle, Cas’ eyes glimmering with knowing in the soft light. Dean brings Cas’ hand to his mouth and kisses the neat gold band around his finger, and he kisses each peaked knuckle, and he turns Cas’ hand over and kisses his palm and his wrist. Then he lets go and puts his own hand against Cas’ cheek, and says his recklessly sappy thing: “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

And the glowing feeling inside him doesn’t settle, only grows brighter.

Whatever’s wrong with the sink will be just one more thing to a long list of shit to deal with. Their house needs work, no denying. But Dean knows they’ve got plenty of time.

#destiel #deancastiel #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #my writing

[lovedsammy]

anchor; sam/cas

Coda to 15.05. Based on the speculation about there being two pillows on Sam’s bed and Sam and Cas having shared the bed in the past, with Cas comforting Sam through his nightmares. With Castiel away from the bunker, Sam’s blood-forged nightmares bring him to his knees. He needs the angel with him now more than ever, and he’s determined to get him to come back home. Hurt/comfort + angst. Mentions of trauma, Becky, Chuck/God. 

Read HERE on Ao3. 

--

Sammy, please.

Please.

A loud, resounding crack, and Sam’s eyes snap open. Instantly, he’s folded over the side of the bed, his head swimming, breaths coming in harsh, wet pants. His neck and back are drenched in a cold sweat that clings to him much in the way that the horrific images remain behind his eyes. 

The first nightmare again: facing off with Dean, his brother pleading with him to stop, Sam’s body absolutely thrumming from the power coursing through his veins, feeling the soar of it, snapping Dean’s neck…. 

And the worst of all --- tasting the metallic tang of the demon blood on his tongue like it was meant to be there.

Even awake.

Sam heaves, and nothing but bile comes up, but he still feels endlessly nauseous. It’s becoming a part of the territory lately. He’s still half-asleep and a little out of it - the cold medicine he took last night worked a little too well - and he finds himself in the middle of calling out Cas’s name. It’s a thing of habit. He rolls over, almost expecting to find the angel’s concerned face staring back at him. But Castiel isn’t here. The empty space next to Sam is proof of that. Castiel left, and Sam… well, he was a grown man. He shouldn’t need, or depend on someone else to keep him steady when he felt like he was falling. He needs to be his own crutch, because this…. this is his problem, and not one he should be including anyone else in. Most of all, Cas, his friend, who was suffering himself over the loss of the boy that they both viewed as a son. 

Which was probably why he wasn’t here now. 

It was hard for Sam too, so used to the sound of Jack’s laughter echoing off the bunker walls, and now there was only hollow silence. For Cas, who had loved Jack so fiercely and unconditionally… the anguish must be indescribable. 

And yet, Sam still aches for Cas’s presence. The angel had involved himself in Sam’s troubled cycles of sleep, and had for quite some time, ever since he had started to take up residence in the younger Winchester’s room. Sometimes, Sam would get so tired that he’d curl up on his bed with Cas still beside him as they made their way through another TV show or docuseries, and he’d be out in seconds. He’d come to some time later, thrashing, trembling, and Cas would be there to console him, run his fingers through Sam’s hair, and calm him down. Having Cas in his room had become a safeguard for Sam. He hadn’t realized how much he’d depended on Cas to keep the nightmares at bay until he wasn’t there. 

Castiel was more aware than Dean even at this point of the severity of Sam’s dreams. Sam would tell Cas things, usually without meaning to, that he’d never breathe a word of to Dean. It wasn’t because he distrusted his brother - it was more just that Cas was there and had an understanding of the inner workings of Sam’s mind in ways that no one else really did.  

A lot of the time that Sam and Cas had actually spent rooming together came as a result of the loss of Dean to Michael. In those months spent searching for his brother, Sam had started to really let himself go, both physically and mentally. He was exhausted, barely ate, and hardly ever slept. He was always out and about, following some lead or another, or helping another new hunter on a case. Or setting up more services for the Hunter Network. Or something else altogether. So Cas had become Sam’s rock, along with becoming Jack’s. 

The first few times that Sam had allowed Cas into his room again, it was mostly just out of loneliness. He’d needed someone beside him, and Cas was good company. They enjoyed watching Netflix together, and Sam knew that his room had ironically become something of a sanctuary for the angel, too, for whatever reason. But the many, many times after that…. it became something more. 

Sam genuinely enjoyed the feeling of waking up to see Castiel beside him every morning. The residents of the bunker all knew what was happening, but fortunately, no one said anything about it. Mary had made sure of that. She seemed to be under the same impression as the rest of the hunters, though, because once when Sam came out of his room with bedhead and Castiel in tow looking just as rustled, her eyebrows had shot up to her hairline. While Cas had gone to check on Jack, she’d looked at Sam pointedly. 

“So…. how long has this been going on? You and Castiel?”

“M-Mom,” He’d stuttered, flushed, choking around a mouth full of toast. “It isn’t what you’re thinking, I swear. We're just… he helps. I can’t - I don’t really sleep much at night, and he, uh… we watch things, and it helps me. Really, we’re just hanging out.” 

Seeing her son’s red face, Mary just laughs, and leans over to kiss his cheek. “Oh, Sam. You don’t need to be embarrassed. I’m not implying anything, okay? I’m just happy for you. I don’t care what’s going on between the two of you. If he helps you, he helps. He’s an angel, and your friend. I don’t trust anyone else besides Dean with you. Even if it does happen to become something else, you wouldn’t need to explain yourself to me.”

Sam had smiled back at her, nodded, and they’d left it at that. And while it was true that he’d been harboring some unspoken -- likely unrequited -- feelings about Cas for the longest time now, he’d never acted on them. And if Cas felt the same way, well, he hadn’t either.

Confident now that he was done expelling the contents of his stomach lining, Sam shakily exhales, sweeping his fringe back from his face and tries to relax his frantic heart. Once he’s sure he can stand, he gets a glass of water from his sink to wash out the taste of acid and blood in his mouth, and more importantly, clean up the mess before Dean comes in at some point and starts asking questions. 

The sound of his phone vibrating startles him out of the haze. It’s a new text, and he’s shocked to see that it’s from Cas.

Deep breaths, Sam. It says. Remember to even them. Do them in sets. I’m sorry that I’m not there to help you right now.

Sam just stares at the message, a little stunned. He’s spent days trying to get in touch with Cas, only for him to ignore his messages completely. 176 total messages sent, over 20 voice mails. 

Hey, Cas, just checking in. 

How are you doing? Everything ok?

Cas, call me. We need to talk. 

Didn’t realize you were taking off. 

Service sucks in the bunker, want to make sure you’re getting these?

Call me when you can.

Want to make sure you’re ok? 

Cas, check in when you can.  

Cas, please.

Cas.

Cas, please answer me, man. I’m worried. Radio silence isn’t like you.

All right, it’s been two days. I’m really worried.

About you.

I don’t know why you’re not replying. 

Is it because you can’t? Or won’t?

Five days... 

Did I do something? 

Tomorrow’s a week.

I think I know now, and I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m so sorry, Cas. 

I’m sorry about Jack. I’m sorry I fucked up... 

I’m sorry that what I did, and what we lost, caused you to leave.

His fingers fumble with the phone. How did you know? He simply texts back, because, well, he’d thought that Casiel’s powers were failing. Could the angel still sense him when he was in distress without being anywhere near him? 

You wake at the same time every night without fail, Cas replies a moment later. The nightmares have always been frequent but they seem to have become more systematic lately. I can usually tell when you’re about to have one depending on the time of night it is and how far into REM sleep you are.

Again, Sam is thrown for a loop, and more than touched. Cas had really attuned himself to Sam’s sleep patterns, so he’d best know how to help him. He’s about to reply back when the phone rings. He’s relieved, and honestly, a little bit bitter. He’d spent all the time waiting to hear from Cas, only for him to call him now. He didn’t understand why, but he was going to find out. 

The wave of calm that washes over him once he hears the angel’s voice, however, is immediate and blissful and saps the confrontational energy right out of him. 

“Sam, are you all right?” Castiel’s voice is a low, gentle vice that holds Sam still, and steers him back to reality. The hunter doesn’t really register that he’d been palming his scarred hand until his fingers uncurl from it. 

He puffs out a haggard breath, attempting to quell a new wave of dizziness. “I don’t know,” he slurs. “Not really. No. Since I shot God, I’ve been having these dreams, or premonitions or whatever. They keep getting more and more vivid. And honestly, they’re really starting to scare the hell out of me.” He lowers his head so that they’re between his knees, and it helps a little in lessening the constriction of his chest and the spinning of the room. “Cas… we ran into Lilith, of all people. Apparently, Chuck brought her back, to take the gun from us. And she did. And ... and she said that Chuck isn’t done with us. He’s writing the ending that he wants. He hasn’t left. I was so damn stupid to think he had, that he was gone….” 

The sound of silence on the other end of the phone makes him shudder, and he wraps an arm around himself. He’s waiting, wanting, for Cas to say something. Anything. Tell him he’s imagining things, that he’s crazy, that he’s stressed and tired and — 

“I came to the same conclusion,” Cas says grimly. “Only I didn’t run into Lilith. I wish I could appease your fears, Sam. But I think you’re right. Chuck isn’t gone. And I think I have proof beyond just Lilith’s word.” 

Sam’s blood turns to ice. “What?” He asks. “How?”

“I wasn’t going to mention it, but… do you… remember Becky Rosen?” 

Sam sours again and suppresses another shudder. Yet another crappy memory. “Y-yeah. What about her?” 

“She’s missing. Along with her husband and children. It’s all over the news here.” 

Sam blinks, raising his brows. “Wait - you’re kidding…. Becky got married? And had kids? Okay, uh…. wow. But how do… how do you know it’s Chuck, Cas?” 

“Because I’ve been reading everything about the case, and from what neighbors have said, Becky, her husband, and children, all went into their house, and never came back out. Their car is still here. There’s no sign that they left on foot. There’s no damages to the home that would suggest an intruder. It’s like they blipped out of existence. Or someone snapped them out. Like what the Mad Titan Thanos did to the Avengers in Infinity War.” 

Sam waves a dismissive hand that Cas can’t see. “Yeah, I know the Marvel reference - Cas…” He swallows down as much water as he can before he continues. “I don’t…. Why would Chuck go after Becky, of all people? She’s his ex, didn’t they have feelings for one another at one time?” 

“Becky got played just like the rest of us have,” Cas reminds him. “It may not be him, but I just thought… I can’t shake this feeling that he’s involved somehow. I’m going to keep looking into it, I’ll text you when --” 

Sam cuts him off. “Wait, Cas… why… why don’t you come back… to the bunker?” He pleads. “Please. We could use you here. Or if you don’t want to meet here, I could… I could come meet you. I need some air right now, and I could…. Cas, I really need to see you. You’ve been ignoring all of my messages and you won’t even tell me why. Now out of the blue you message me, and you expect me not to ask what’s going on? Talk to me. Please.” 

It makes him feel so incredibly vulnerable, admitting to Cas how much he views him as an anchor, and how much he needs him. 

“The exit off 36,” Cas says after a long moment. “182. Just outside Bellaire. I’ll meet you there. I’m not too far out.” 

“Okay,” Sam agrees, and some of the tightness in his chest finally relieves. 

——

He’s still trembling when he sees the headlights of Cas’s car approaching, and had been on the entire drive here. He guesses that the after effects of the visions are getting harder and harder to shake off. They’re so reminiscent of his early days with them, back as a twenty-three year old boy. The only difference now is that he was older, wiser, and not quite as innocent. 

When Cas steps out of the car and nears him, the angel’s expression is one of concern. “Oh, Sam,” He chokes, sorrow etching on the lines of his face, “You look terrible.” He reaches up to caress Sam’s cheek, and Sam’s eyes flutter closed. It’s such a tender touch that he wants to melt into it. He forces his eyes open again. 

Cas is frowning at him as he looks him over, at the dark circles under the hunter’s eyes, the paleness of his skin. 

“I haven’t really been sleeping,” Sam explains in response. “Because when I do, the dreams - the visions that I’m having… it takes me a long time to calm down after. I just know that he’s… he’s got something horrible planned for us. He’s… Cas, I think he’s showing me things. Not intentionally, but…”

“What are you seeing?” 

Sam takes a deep breath, steeling himself. Cas places an encouraging hand on his shoulder.

“Sam. It’s all right. You can tell me.” 

“Me,” Sam answers. “I’m seeing me, and Dean. In one of them, we’re in the bunker, and I kill him. I snap his neck, and I’m happy about it. I’m evil. I’m hooked on the demon blood again, and it’s worse than ever. My eyes - my eyes are black, and I’m - I’m so far beyond gone. And when I wake up, I can taste it, I…” He forces the bile down that’s trying to come up again. “I wake up with the taste of blood in my mouth and the thrill of killing my own brother.”

Cas nods sympathetically, but doesn’t say anything. 

He waits for Sam to find his voice again. 

“The others are just as bad. I’m Lucifer, and I burn Dean down to the bone. In another, he’s got the Mark of Cain. You didn’t come save me. So he kills me with the First Blade.” He pauses long enough to take a rattling, wet breath. “I need you, Cas. I need you back home, with us. Yeah, I’ve got Dean, and he has me. But we - I need you, too. You’re my best friend, my family. I know it’s so hard for you to be there, after Jack. I can hardly look around without seeing him, either. But distancing yourself from us to grieve alone is just... ” 

Castiel lowers his eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t go back there. I’m not welcome, not after what happened with Jack, and your mother. I’m afraid that I’d just be a horrific reminder of that.”

Sam recoils. “What? Of course you aren’t a reminder, Cas, you’re… wait, is this why you left? You thought you wouldn’t be welco --” 

“You’re misunderstanding,” The angel shakes his head, and sighs. “I didn’t just leave, Sam. Dean…he wanted me to leave, he -- he can no longer stand my presence. He told me in so many words that he didn’t wish for me to remain there. He blames me for not just what happened with your mother, and with Jack, but also Rowena.”

“What?”

Sam goes silent, thunderstruck. And then it all falls into place: Dean’s attitude in the Crypt, the lack of regard for Cas and his well being when he sent Cas off to Hell with Belphegor; how easily he’d shrugged off Sam when he’d asked about the angel. How easily Dean could lie and make up an answer, how he could just say that Cas left because he “needed space to grieve away from them,” and not to worry about him. Castiel ignoring his messages.... 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The younger Winchester demands. It lacks any real anger or conviction. It sounds sad even to his own ears. “Dammit, Cas. I could’ve talked to him, I could’ve stopped him…” 

The angel grips his shoulder more firmly, rubbing soothing circles into the flesh. “No, Sam. You were grieving for Rowena. I wasn’t going to disrupt that. Your brother told me that he thinks everything that goes wrong with your lives is because of me. And I felt that… that if I’m no longer present in your lives, then perhaps -”

“Oh, no, that’s bullshit,” Sam cuts him off, now heated. “Screw that. No. You’re one of the best things about our lives - about my life!”

“Sam -”

“I would’ve come after you,” Sam says, and he surprises himself when he realizes that he means it. If he’d known that Dean had kicked Cas out, Sam would’ve put a pin into grieving yet another close friend and gone after the angel, no matter how pissed Dean got. 

A slight smile curves on Cas’s lips; knowing, affectionate. “I know you would have. I know you would’ve pulled me back, and that’s why I didn’t respond to you. I wanted to keep you safe. Keep you alive, give you a chance at happiness.” 

There’s a long pause in which neither of them move, or say anything. Sam’s heart is pounding loud in his throat, and his eyes are muddled again with emotion. And Cas is looking at him with such soft intensity it’s as though he views Sam as the most precious thing he’s ever seen. 

“You mean so very much to me, Sam,” Cas says. “I don’t think you understand how much. But I will not force you to choose between me and your brother. You’ve had so many choices thrust upon you, I will not add to it. You’ve suffered so much and I can’t watch you be hurt again.” 

Sam huffs, nodding bitterly. “Yeah, well. What if I’m not making a choice? I’m done doing that. I’m tired of it. I want to take what I want.”

He was tired of being Chuck’s puppet, a mindless marionette on a fucking string to use and break and throw away. He was tired of being told what he could and could not have, could not save, could not love. 

And right now, he wanted Cas back home with him.

He wants Cas, in whatever way that was. 

“Then you should,” The angel replies easily. He’s waiting, Sam realizes. They’ve reached a crossroad, and Cas is waiting either for Sam to turn and walk away, or to do something with that declaration. 

He fixates Cas with a stare, watching the angel’s expression for any sort of change, any sign that this isn’t what he wants. There’s an unspoken language occurring between them, and Cas’s eyes read that he’s very aware of what Sam’s telling him, and he’s not backing out.

Sam fights it until he can't anymore. 

He surges forward and presses his lips against Castiel’s, furiously, deeply. The angel rocks on the balls of his feet from the force of it, his hand still on Sam’s shoulder. But he isn’t pushing him away, and Sam thinks that’s a good sign. And then Cas’s other hand comes up to grip Sam’s hair tenderly, and suddenly, he’s responding back in equal fervor.

When Sam pulls away at last, he’s panting again, a little dizzy, but for an entirely different reason than trauma. “Wow,” He croaks, a little sheepish.

“For lack of a better word,” Castiel agrees, somewhat breathless himself. “How long have you thought about doing that?” 

“Pretty much since I met you,” Sam mumbles, ducking his head. “But especially lately, and after you left, I…” And then the moment passes and like always, the guilt settles in. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Cas, I didn’t mean to just  --”

“No. Don’t you do that,” Cas admonishes gently. “Don’t you apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. Especially not that. Do you honestly think I’d have allowed that to happen if I didn’t want it to?”

Sam goes red, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just didn’t think you’d feel ---” 

And now Cas is the one leaning into him, running his lips along Sam’s jawline. “I do.”

Sam can’t quite believe what’s happening. He’s entertained the thought of this, more times than he cares to admit if he’s honest, but he never thought it could actually happen. He’s nose to nose with the angel, and probably looks like a blushy moron. But he finally feels contentment for the first time in days. Or at least, something resembling it.  

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first time I lied beside you,” Cas tells him, and now it’s his turn to look somewhat awkward. “Perhaps even longer. Much longer than I ever realized.” 

Sam laughs a little. “So… what now?” He asks, tentatively.

Cas hums, thoughtful. “So now...we find out what happened to Becky Rosen and her family,” He says. “And then we go home, back to the bunker, whether Dean likes it or not. And we find a way to defeat Chuck and what he’s trying to bring to pass.”

Sam nods, weakly, finally disentangling himself from Cas. It doesn’t feel so much like letting him go as it does a temporary pause.

“Yeah. All right. Sounds like a plan.” 

#sastiel #samcas #spn spoilers #15.05 #ep: proverbs 17:3 #*mine #spn #supernatural

[katymacsupernatural]

A New Life Chapter 29: On Our Way

Dean Winchester x Reader

1400 Words

Story Summary: You’re a Demon who is trying to erase all the bad you’ve done, by helping the Winchesters. But the price to be good can be too much, even for a crossroads demon.

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

Within the hour the Impala was packed back into the Impala and you were waiting for Dean. He had spent the time praying to Cas, trying to get in touch, but so far all of his prayers had gone unanswered.

Finally giving up, Dean grabbed the last bag, his duffle bag. "It's not like him to ignore me like that," Dean muttered. "We really need him on this."

"Maybe he's not answering because I'm not here," you mumbled softly, hoping that wasn't the case. You didn't want to come between Dean and saving his brother. "He doesn't like me."

Dean stopped in his tracks, staring back at you in surprise. "That's what you think? That he's not answering because he doesn't like you? I really don't think that's the reason."

Before Dean had even finished speaking, the rustling of wings sounded behind Dean. "Actually Dean, that is the reason. I do not like her, and I cannot trust her. She's a Demon, who has betrayed you once before," Cas spoke up, holding his Angel blade out in front of him, eyeing you warily.

Dean turned to face Cas, a bewildered look upon his face. "Woah dude, calm down. She's here to help."

Cas took a step forward, grinding his teeth. The Angel blad was held tight in his hand, and you immediately took a step back, scared of the way he was staring at you. "No! I will not calm down! Dean, she's a Demon! She's just waiting for the right moment to turn on us!"

"This is ridiculous, standing around arguing about me while Sam is being held hostage and Ebony is about ready to raise Lucifer. How can I make you trust me enough to work together? " You yelled, surprising both Dean and Cas.

Dean sighed, reaching into his pocket. "I still have this."  In his hands was the bracelet. You had yet to wear it, and were a little surprised that he had been carrying it in his pocket. "This will subdue all of her powers. Turning her pretty much human. If she promises to wear this, will you trust her enough that we can get a move on?"

Cas still stared at you with distrust. "Can she take it off?"

"No, she can't. Only we can," Dean assured him. Knowing you were wasting time arguing, you stepped forward, holding your arm out to Dean who seemed a little hesitant.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "If it was up to me...,"

"But it's not. It's for the best," you assured him as he slid the bracelet onto your arm. Immediately, the bracelet took effect, currents running through your system, your Demonic powers fading away to nothing. Your body grew weaker, your knees shaking with the effort of holding yourself up. The bracelet made you dizzy, and you stumbled, almost falling to the ground but Dean caught you. Holding you up with his arm around your waist.

"Y/N, are you alright?" He asked, guiding you to the edge of the bed.

Even with his support, you almost didn't make it, your dizziness affecting your movement. Closing your eyes, you collapsed onto the bed, not answering Dean.

"I don't like this, I'm going to take it off," Dean stated, moving his hand to your wrist, but you stopped him.

"Dean it's for the best. This way we can all work together to save Sam. I'll get used to it. It's okay." You reassured him.

Dean clenched his jaw, shaking his head. "I don't...," he started to say, displeased with the way things were heading, but you knew he was just as frustrated as you were.

It took a moment, but you were finally able to sit up, your head no longer spinning. "Now what?" You asked, trying to turn the attention from you to something more important. Like saving Sam.

"Now we head to Stull Cemetery, and try to stop another apocalypse from happening and save my brother," Dean told you, helping you to your feet, staying by your side while you gathered your strength.

Cas walked with the two of you to the Impala but refused to climb in. "I'm going ahead of you. See if anything has started yet, how Sam is doing. I'll report back as soon as I'm able."

Dean started the Impala in silence, both of you staring out the window. Fields passed by, both of you lost in thought as Dean sped towards Lawrence Kansas.  

It was almost twenty minutes later before Dean finally broke the silence. "Cas is gone. Want the bracelet off?"

Glancing down at the bracelet, you realized that you had become somewhat used to the lack of your powers and the weakness that went with it. "No, leave it on. He might come back any minute."

You could tell he wasn't convinced but he didn't argue. Reaching forward, he switched on the radio, his scarred fingers messing with the dials, trying to find a song on the radio. Seconds ticked by before he became frustrated, switching it back off. "Listen, I know Cas seemed more than a little rude back there. I'm sorry about it, but that's Cas. He's just looking out for those close to him, and we haven't had the greatest luck with Demons."

"You don't have to apologize for him," you said quietly. "He's just doing what a good friend should do. I know I'm a Demon, and that most Demons are untrustworthy. I'm used to getting nasty glances, being called names, or people trying to use me to their advantage. It hurts, and it's never gotten any easier to deal with. But I do understand where he is coming from."

Dean took his hand off of the steering wheel and placed it on your knee. The move surprised you, sending a shiver through your body at the long-awaited touch.  "And I haven't been the nicest to you either. I understand why you did what you did, and I'm sorry that I let my emotions get in the way. I just hope that maybe after this is all said and done, we can try to fix things."

"Even though I'm a Demon?" You had to ask because the hope that this was truly happening was almost too much to bear.

He sighed. "Even though you're a Demon. But you're nothing like the Demons I've known, and I know you at least deserve to be given a chance."

"Thank you, Dean, that means a lot." You replied quietly, trying hard not to smile. It was nice, knowing that even though things weren't going well right now, there was a promise of good things to come.

You weren't sure what to say next. But the option was taken from you, with Cas quickly appearing in the back seat. Letting out a little squeal, you smacked your head against the window while Dean tried to regain control of his precious car.

"Damn it Cas!" Dean cursed while you held your ringing head in your hands, but Cas ignored him.

"She's there, along with four or five other Demons. Sam is beaten and bloody on the ground, unresponsive." Cas informed the both of you.

"How far out are we?" You asked. It was the news you had expected to hear, but you still hated the thought of Ebony winning. Of her torturing Sam while you were helpless.

"About 15 minutes. Not too much farther." Dean grumbled, his voice growing quiet at the end, worry for his brother evident in the stiff set of his shoulders, the way his knuckles were tightly grasping the steering wheel.

It was your turn to reach over, squeezing his hand in reassurance. You didn't miss the narrowed glare Cas sent your way, or the way Dean's eyes fluttered your way in surprise. "Don't worry Dean, we will save him." You promised, knowing you would do anything to save Sam.

Dean just nodded his head, pressing down on the pedal until he was going at least twenty over the speed limit.

"What do you want me to do?" Cas asked, finally leaning back against the seat.

"Why don't you go back and stay hidden, wait for our signal." You suggested, and Cas looked to Dean for confirmation. When Dean nodded, Cas disappeared.

"So when we get there, what's our plan?" You asked.

"We stop her, anyway, anyhow," Dean said simply.

Knowing it was the only answer you would get, you watched as the iron gate loomed into view, and you had a feeling this was not going to end well.

**Hope you enjoyed this update!! Please reblog/comment to let me know!!**

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[winchesterprincessbride]

Worlds Collide-Part 2

Part 1            My Master List

A/N: This story is a Marvel/Supernatural crossover and a collaboration between me and my sister in all the ways that matter @kittenofdoomage.  I have been annoying the shit out of her talking about this thing NONSTOP, but she likes me so she’s cool with it.

Ten Months Later

Two weeks had passed since your last case and you were enjoying some downtime with Sam.  It was nice to just spend time with him and not have to focus on the next thing that was trying to kill you. The two of you stayed up late sharing stories about your childhoods. Sam told you all about growing up as a hunter, and leaving the life before John’s disappearance and Jess’ death sucked him back in.

You shared the loneliness of spending your life in the foster care system, bouncing from house to house, never fitting in anywhere, and always trying to hide your abilities.  Finally when you were fifteen and considered pretty much “unadoptable”, a kindly couple fostered you and were in the process of adopting you.  The Bradshaws gave you the kind of stability you had only dreamed of.

Then Mrs. Bradshaw got possessed by a demon and killed Mr. Bradshaw and tried to kill you.  Your heart broke when you used your powers and electrocuted her.  You hit the road and immediately hooked up with a hunter who explained to you what her black eyes and complete personality change meant. And then your eyes were opened to what was REALLY out there and you began to hunt full time, using your abilities for good instead of giving tiny shocks to the bullies in your foster homes.

The three of you were sitting at the table in the war room playing poker to pass the time and Cas had popped in.  He observed in silence for a time, his face unreadable as he obviously tried to pick up the game.  “Do you know how to play?” you asked the angel.

He shook his head. “I’ve never had the opportunity.”

You patted the chair next to you. “Come, sit.  I’ll teach you, it’s fun.  I bet you're a good bluffer.  You have a great poker face.”

“Bluffer?”

Dean snorted.  “She’s gonna teach you how to lie, Cas.”

The angel looked alarmed. “I don’t think I……”  An insistent knocking on the bunkers heavy front door startled everyone and Cas stopped talking.  Sam and Dean instantly jumped to their feet, throwing down their cards and pulling their guns from the back of their waistbands.  Cas was up out of his seat, angel blade drawn and at the ready.

“Someone’s at the door?  Does that ever happen?” you asked tentatively, unsure if anyone else actually knew where this place was.

“We’re off the beaten path.  People don’t exactly come here trying to sell us Girl Scout cookies,” Dean replied, eyes never leaving the door, his finger on the trigger of his Colt.

The knocking came again.  “Should we answer it?” you said.  “If it were something trying to kill us I don’t think they’d knock.”

Sam nodded slowly and you took the lead, walking up the stairs, with Sam and Dean right behind you.  Pulling open the heavy door, you were surprised to see a helicopter in the driveway, partially obscured by the two people in front of you. Standing in the doorway was an attractive redheaded woman dressed in all black who looked vaguely familiar. Next to her was a muscular man with blond hair and piercing blue eyes.

You recognized him instantly even though he wasn’t wearing his trademark red, white and blue suit. Your eyes widened and you pulled back a little, fingers lightly gripping the door.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N?” the woman asked, her voice a husky purr.

“Who wants to know?” Dean snapped, standing behind you, unable to see the visitors with the light filtering in the doorway from outside.

“Dean,” you hushed, not taking your eyes off of the visitors. “Don’t you recognize him?” You stood back, gesturing for them to enter. “Come in, please.” The blond man grinned good-naturedly, stepping inside and offering his hand to Dean, who was struggling to pick his jaw up off of the floor.

“Hi, I’m Steve,” he said. “Steve Rogers. Is this a good time?”

Dean stared at him, unable to process what he was seeing in front of him. “Holy crap, Sammy.  It’s Captain-freaking America,” he whispered in awe.

You had invited them into the library to sit and talk.  “This is our friend Castiel,” you told them, gesturing in Cas’ direction. Cas was staring intently at the Captain, a perplexed look on his face. “Clearly you know who we are.”

“Agent Romanoff,” the woman replied. “Nat,” she added as she turned to Sam and Dean.  “The Winchester brothers. And Cap’s reputation proceeds him as usual.”

“Call me Steve, please,” Captain America said, looking directly at Dean, who was beaming like a tween meeting Justin Bieber.

“Okay, then, Steve. Why are you here?  What do you want with us?” Sam asked quietly, distrust evident in his voice. He was standing right behind you, looming over your shoulder like he had to protect you from them.

“Are you a shapeshifter?” Cas asked Cap suddenly.

“Am I a what?” Steve looked really confused and everyone looked at Castiel in concern.

“You are at least 90 years old,” he started to point out, “but you have the appearance of being no more than 30.  So, are you a shapeshifter?”

“He’s not a shapeshifter, Cas.   I’ll show you the comics later. It’s all good, man,” Dean informed him helpfully and the angel frowned, apparently unsure of the reply.

“How did you know he was 90 years old? That was pretty specific,” Natasha asked, her face a mask of curiosity.

“I am an angel of the Lord. I know many things,” Cas said matter-of-factly before anyone could stop him.

“Excuse me?  You think you’re an angel?” Nat said, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Sam held out a placating hand. “Listen, guys. I’m sure you have seen some weird stuff in your line of work.  We have too.  You came all the way out here to find us, so you must have some intel on us, and know what we do.”

“The monster thing? That’s not really true, is it?” Cap questioned intently, his eyes on you.   

“Every freaking word.  Vampires, werewolves, witches,  and all that scary shit that gave you nightmares as a kid, it’s all real,” you told them with a sigh.

“And demons, and angels and God.  All Real.  We were just as shocked to find out aliens were real. We’ve never run into them before,”  Dean said honestly.

“Wow. Tony’s gonna have a fit when he hears all this,” Nat said to Cap.

Sam perked up at that. “Tony Stark?”

“I need to show you something.” Nat pulled out a small Ipad and set a video to play.  It was from the town in Texas where they had fought the vampires.  There had been a big showdown with the surviving six in an abandoned grocery store in town where they were holed up.  The video that played clearly showed Y/N using her powers and pulling lightening in and blowing out the front windows so they could storm the building.  Nat stopped the video.

“We also have footage of the four of you from other places around the country.  It caught Tony’s attention.  He wants to meet you and your friends,” Cap said quietly.

“Someone filmed me using my powers?” you said nervously. “Who took this video? I’m so careful...”

“Tony Stark wants to meet us? Why?” Sam asked excitedly, calming a little when you glared at him. The opportunity to meet the famous Tony Stark would usually give you a little booster but knowing people had filmed you? Seen you use your powers? It just made you worried about the entire situation.

“He hasn’t given us any of that information,” Steve explained. “He just asked us to fly out and invite you back to Avengers Tower. Said he’d come himself but…”

Nat smirked, folding her arms across her chest. “Steve’s better at this.”

“Avengers Tower! In New York?” The laughter bubbling in your chest caught you by surprise at the thought of anyone wanted to meet you. There were plenty other special people out there, right?  “You don’t expect us to come on that helicopter of yours, do you?” You pointed at the elder Winchester. “Dean doesn’t fly.”

Dean looked mortified, shaking his head furiously. “Hell, no. Can I drive there?”

“So are you all willing to come?”  Nat asked.  You looked at Sam, and he nodded.

“Cas?” you asked the angel, wanting at least a little backup. Okay, they were the Avengers, the good guys but all too often you’d seen good guys go bad when they didn’t understand something.

“I will go of course,”  he replied and you smiled, nodding in relief before turning to the most anxious member of the small group. Dean was already at the point of sweating over the helicopter.

“Dean?” you asked softly.

“As long as I don’t have to fly,” he pointed at you, “I’m in.”

“What about you, babe? I know you’re not keen on showing people what you can do, so it’s your call.” Sam was smiling when he said this, and you knew he would go along with whatever you wanted.

You held your hands out, grinning to cover up your nerves. “How can I say no to Tony Stark?”

“So it really would be easier if we flew.  The ‘copter is much faster than a regular plane. It will have us to New York in an hour and a half, tops. Tony always seems to know everything about everyone, Dean, so he had Dr. Banner made a hypospray that will put you to sleep for out the duration of the flight,” Steve told them, watching Dean for his reaction and he frowned, clearly uncomfortable with leaving his Baby behind.

“That’s a good idea.  Do you really want to bring the Impala to New York City where she could get damaged or stolen?” Sam asked his brother, injecting concern into his voice as he placed one hand on Dean’s shoulder and the elder Winchester sighed.

The best way to motivate Dean was to threaten his Baby with bodily harm.  “Fine. Let’s do that then.”

“Okay, everyone. You have ten minutes to pack what you need.  Then we move out,” Steve ordered in an authoritative voice but there was still a smile on his face and everyone jumped to comply.

As Dean and Sam walked you down the hall to your room, Dean’s face lit up with excitement. “Man, Cap is so cool. And Iron Man? This is going to be awesome!” He disappeared into his room and you looked up at Sam, wishing his hopeful grin would make you feel better.

“It is going to be awesome,” he reassured you, parroting Dean’s words softly. “We’re with you. The whole way.”

Part 3

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[cupidsbower]

Let me tell you people that I found a new way

Supernatural 13x06, “Tombstone,” 13x07, “War of the Worlds,” and 13x08, “The Scorpion and the Frog.”

Something very interesting is happening this season, relating to Dean’s position in the narrative. Over the course of 13 seasons, it’s been proven over and over that Dean’s hunches tend to be right. He thinks someone’s a rotter, and they are a rotter. He thinks something’s hinky and it is hinky. He does sometimes make mistakes, but generally speaking, when Dean makes a moral pronouncement, he is right about the morality, even if events don’t play out the way he anticipates.

At the start of season 13, Dean made the moral pronouncement that he thought Jack was evil. He may still prove right about this of course, as the season is still young (for me, I know you are all far ahead), but so far it’s looking like he was wrong, and that Jack is more like a blank slate trying to figure out who he can be rather than intrinsically good or evil.

Does this matter? Does Dean’s hunch about Jack count in the same way it counted when Dean knew Ruby was rotten, but tried to give her the benefit of the doubt because Sam asked? When it comes to Jack, is this just Dean being a jackass due to grief and it’s not really what he thinks?

The tension arising from Dean’s distrust of Jack has so far been used to complicate Jack’s arc, but a larger thematic question arises. What does it mean for the story if Dean’s moral compass is wonky? And what does it mean if it’s not?

Okay, cards on the table. I think Dean is wrong about Jack. I’m sure Jack will do a bunch of stupid shit, because that’s how growing up works, but so far he doesn’t seem to be intrinsically evil. So why was Dean so insistent about it? Was it because Cas’s death had him so turned around his instincts were awry? But if that’s the case, you’d expect his instincts to be back to normal with Cas back... but the text is hinting that they’re not.

I enjoyed Tombstone. Cas is back, Dean plays cowboy, and Jack gets a hug, screws up, and runs away from home. All the drama!

Tombstone is a title with a lot of meanings. The primary meaning is the headstone on a grave, but in a text where cremation is the Hunter’s way, whose tombstone is it referring to? Is it literally just talking about the location of the ghoul’s lair? Or is it talking about Jack’s use of his powers that goes horribly wrong? Then there’s the movie reference. The film is the fictionalised (and often romanticised) story of the West... when “cowboys were the law”! And as we know, Dean is all about cowboys, especially the ones in the rogues gallery up on their hotel room wall. Later he prompts Cas to act like he’s in the movie, and Cas quotes Val Kilmer to assure Dean he’s his Huckleberry, which just about makes Dean tear up. All a boy wants is a partner who fondly goes along with his cosplaying fantasies... looking good in a cowboy hat a definite bonus. And Dean gets it good here -- he wears the boots, fixes Cas’s hat, and does a slo-mo power walk to the song Space Cowboy:

Steve Miller Band - Space Cowboy

I told you 'bout living in the U.S. of A Don't you know that I'm a gangster of love Let me tell you people that I found a new way And I'm tired of all this talk about love And the same old story with a new set of words About the good and the bad and the poor And the times keep on changin' So I'm keepin' on top Of every fat cat who walks through my door

I'm a space cowboy Bet you weren't ready for that I'm a space cowboy I'm sure you know where it's at Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (x)

I mean this is hilariously silly, and Dean is having so much fun, but he’s also completely embarrassing with his whole cowboy nerdgasm and forcing Cas to play along, amirite? This is Jensen Ackles showing off his physical comedy chops like the pro he is. But here’s the thing. The song scratches out the minute they find the law, because the old romantic version of the West does not hold true. In this version of Dodge, the law is not a cowboy, it’s a Native American. What’s more, Dean is not really the Space Cowboy either. Surely, surely, Cas is the space cowboy (but is Cas the gangster of love??? And if so, who’s heart did he steal???).

The frisson of not-quite-right continues throughout the rest of the episode. While the ghoul realises there are Hunters after him and tries to “get out of Dodge” -- the line the lawman Marshall Dillon of the TV show Gunsmoke used to say to interlopers of Dodge City -- it’s Jack who is proved to be the interloper in the end, and it’s the Winchester posse who leaves town. Except for Dean, of course, who ends up Hunting someone wearing the face of one of his cowboy faves.

I could go on, but you get the point.

Thematically, this episode is all about undermining Dean’s moral authority. It does it in several ways, many of them funny, but the intent is quite clear. He even straight up says that he was wrong at the end:

JACK: Good? How is that good? I killed someone. What was his name? The guard? Did he have a family? CASTIEL: Jack, don't do this to yourself. JACK: No, did he? DEAN: Yes, he did. SAM: Jack, look, this life, what we do, it's… it's not easy. And we've all done things we regret. JACK: Just don't. You're afraid of me. CASTIEL: Jack, no. JACK: No, maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just another monster. DEAN: No, you're not. I thought you were. I did. But… Like Sam said, we've all done bad. We all have blood on our hands. So if you're a monster, we're all monsters. JACK: No, you don't… Every time I try and do something good, people get hurt. I thought I was getting better. I'm not… I don't know what I am, but I know I can't make the world a better place, not like this. I can't even do one good thing. And I know that if I stay, I'm gonna hurt you. All of you. And… I can't. You're all I have. SAM: Jack, listen… JACK: I have to go. CASTIEL: No, Jack. JACK: I'm sorry. (x)

Winchester through and through, that boy. Unintended lesson well and truly learned! Oh, the irony.

(My pet theory is that Jack isn’t actually gone, he’s just invisible and lurking around the Bunker. Don’t tell me if I’m wrong, please. I’m going to enjoy thinking about it until canon bursts my bubble.)

Before watching this ep, when I was talking over 13x05 with my viewing buddy, I said, “I wish monsters recognised Hunters more, and especially the Winchesters. It seems dumb after so many years that so few of them do.” And lo, in all three of these eps, people do recognise Hunters and/or the Winchesters. I’m very pleased by this, although as always it isn’t playing out quite the way I hoped. In the case of our ghoul, even though he quickly recognises that Hunters are after him, and makes plans to escape, he fails because he doesn’t take the threat seriously enough. More importantly, it’s not a Hunter(/cowboy) who kills him, it’s the Law(/Native American).

There were a lot of other things to like about this episode, but the other thing I find most notable in terms of meta is something on the meta-textual level. This episode starts upbeat, after five episodes of unrelieved grieving, with Cas back, and Jack finally seeming to be finding his place. That doesn’t even last one episode before the emotional apple-cart is knocked over again. If I were writing this season, this emotional beat in this place in the story arc would mean I’d be aiming for either a happy or ironic climax, rather than a tragic one. I’m leaning towards ironic, and I think Dean’s moral wonkiness will have a part to play in the ironic twist.

Anyway, that was Tombstone. The next two eps put away the myth-arc for a bit, and move on to monster-of-the-week stories full of mirrors for our protagonists. This season they are very much focused on fathers and sons.

War of the Worlds is an interesting title to choose for this episode. It’s obviously referring to H.G. Wells’ book, one of the first stories about aliens invading the Earth and trying to take it from Humanity -- a colonisation narrative in other words. It’s pretty easy to see that Michael in this case is the alien/coloniser.

By the way, I’m now calling alternaEarth “Mordor” because of that fiery eye in the opening credits, and also it’s much easier to type. Interesting, isn’t it, how the Mordor angels managed to screw up the Apocalypse, the implication being that it’s because God, Lucifer, the Winchesters and Castiel were all absent, and so The End wasn’t just a figment of Zachariah’s imagination, but what really happened. And with Lucifer dead in that world, not around to be the antagonist and keep things in check, Michael has basically gone crazy.

Chuck really did a spectacularly bad job as Father to the angels. They only need a bit of spite to energise them and they flower into the most noxious of weeds, smothering everything else around them during their self-absorbed tantrums. What does Michael even want with ParadiseEarth? Does he know, or does he just want it the way a baby wants a toy, and so he thinks it’s his to take? He’s not wearing a Winchester either (not one we know, anyway), so that also brings us right back around to the question of Dean being the Michael Sword. Methinks it’s a really bad time for Dean’s moral compass to be going wonky.

I found Lucifer interesting for the first time in ages in this ep. If I remember correctly, he was always ambivalent about the idea of the Apocalypse, because he liked Earth and having all those Humans to corrupt. But now he also has a son in the world; in other words, a stake in the continued existence of the world. I’m finding that super interesting. How will it change the choices he makes? I’m not expecting a redemption arc or anything like that, but I do think we’re going to see a different set of choices now Lucifer has someone he’s invested in as family. Can even Lucifer learn some humility once he’s the Father rather than the rebelling son?

To go back to the title of the ep, though, my favourite version of War of the Worlds is actually the musical. I see quite a few thematic similarities between some of the tracks and this season of Supernatural. Forever Autumn for instance, reminds me very strongly of Dean at the start of the season. The Spirit of Man I can easily see as a riff on what could happen if Michael actually gets out of Mordor. It does beg the question though, of what the equivalent of the deadly microbes would be. I have this horrible feeling it might be something like “love”, which has a pretty good track record of corrupting angels, but I can’t see many good ways of getting a shot of it inside of Michael. Maybe Rowena sticks some kind of magical bio-weapon in a vessel (Dean) and then they (Dean) says yes to Michael... because TFW does like to re-use strategies, and they never did get to play that one out with Amara in the end.

Why else bring back Ketch and potentially Rowena, reminding us of the whole secret-power-inside-a-body possibility at the same time? I mean, I know resurrection is a theme this season, and I’m always happy to see Rowena back, but UGH. I’d rather NOT end the season with Michael wearing Dean, and Dean wearing a crown of blackberry thorns, if you get my drift.

In other news, Dean’s moral compass seems to be working again this ep, as he spotted that Ketch was sketchy right from the start, and he picked up on Cas being weird on the phone too.  Could it be a fake-out that pays off later? If his moral compass is still on the fritz after all, it means Ketch was probably saying some truth in this bit of dialogue:

KETCH: I believe you're familiar with the witch Rowena MacLeod? She was captured by the British Men of Letters some years back. I discovered she'd sewn a powerful charm into her body that could bring her back should she be killed. I struck a deal wherein she did the same for me in return for allowing her to escape. SAM: So after we dumped your body, you- KETCH: Good as new. Only problem is, one the device is used, it needs to be recharged. DEAN: Which is why you're hunting for Rowena. Well, sorry. Lucifer burned her up. She's dead. KETCH: Is she? DEAN: Why'd you come here? You could've run. KETCH: Did it ever occur to you, Dean, that I might actually be one of the good guys? DEAN: No. Not even once. KETCH: You and I were soldiers in opposing armies who were at war. DEAN: Well, the thing about war is, one side wins. KETCH: I suppose you're right. (x)

So which bit is the potential truthiness? Is Ketch a good guy? *quietly gags, please nooooooo* Or is Rowena alive *yis pls*. Or... can you have a war in which one side doesn’t win?!?! Morder, I’m looking at you.

My foreshadowing senses are tingling. Let me just float this idea now and get it out there where I can poke it with a stick... maybe all three of these things will be true. For a certain value of true. And that would definitely mean Dean’s radar is still wonky.

This ep we have another character who recognises the Winchesters/Hunters. The witch who got away from Ketch fears them, but rightly considers them the lesser of two evils as long as she’s the victim. I’m liking this theme a lot, and I wonder where they’re going with it? I kind of hope that maybe we’ll get some more references to Carver Edlund’s books if this plot thread unspools for more than a few episodes. I’ve never felt that the villains really used that resource enough, you know? I kind of want Michael to get his hands on them, or maybe Kevin.

Which brings me to the final thing about this episode’s title -- the Orson Welles radio play of Wr of the Worlds. It’s famous for causing a panic when it aired, as people thought it was real. Or did they??? Wikipedia tells me:

The first two-thirds of the 60-minute broadcast were presented as a news bulletin and is often described as having led to outrage and panic by some listeners who had believed the events described in the program were real. However, later critics point out that the supposed panic seems to have been exaggerated by newspapers of the time seeking to discredit radio as a source of information. (x)

Ahhhhh. I did not know that. I’m starting to understand why my story brain is so hung up on the reputation of the Winchesters this season, and why it’s important that other characters have heard of them or of Hunters more generally. Propaganda and misinformation are an important part of any war, and they can play out in unexpected ways. We got a bit of this last season with how woefully wrong the BMoL’s intel was on the Winchesters, and I wanted that to pay off more than it did in the end. But I’m more than happy for it to pay off this season instead, with Michael and his posse. Supernatural’s story-within-the-story could use a good shake-up at this point, and giving us some new insight into the stories people tell about the Winchesters would be a clever way to revisit the Metatron arc without resurrecting him too.

For an ep that focused so much on characters I’m not that fond of (Lucifer, Ketch), I enjoyed it quite a lot for the way it’s opened up the narrative in new directions. It’s actual plot wasn’t that strong, but I was happy to be carried along by the revelations.

The final thing I want to say about this ep is that Dean and I are brain-twins on the Evil Colonel Sanders front -- it’s a perfect name for him.

I like heists if they do something fun, so I found the plot of The Scorpion and the Frog episode enjoyable enough. The way Sam and Dean disarmed the booby-trap made me laugh out loud!  Zoooooooom, zwot, thwop-thwop-thwop. Classic.

As this isn’t a myth-arc ep, the most interesting meta stuff arises from the title and theme. I’m sure you’ve all heard of the parable of The Scorpion and the Frog, so I won’t repeat it here, except for the axiom it ends with: “When the frog asks the scorpion why [it stung him], the scorpion replies that it was in its nature to do so” (x).

This title pretty directly evokes the show’s current major theme -- nature vs nurture -- and this season’s variation on it -- who’s your daddy?

As you’d expect at this point in the season, the ep raises a lot of questions about the theme: Do people really have an essential nature, or can they change their spots? Who in the episode is the scorpion and who is the frog? Is the scorpion the demon who can’t help but lie and use people? Is it the father who can’t help but try and save his son, and then turns bitter when he fails? Is it the Hunters who can’t help but hunt, even when they don’t intend to? Is it the victim who takes her shot at ending her suffering when offered the means? I could ask a similar set of questions about who is the frog.

Not to mention:

What qualities make for a good father?

Can somone overcome their (or their father’s) nature?

How do stories about the Winchesters affect they way people interact with them?

Hunters gotta hunt?

Can a frog be a scorpion in disguse? And if so, is that how they’ll sting Michael?

Is Dean’s moral compass wonky or not?

The more I think about all these questions, the less sure I get. Must be getting close to the middle of the season. :)

Barthamus the Crossroads Demon is another character who has heard of the Winchesters, and thinks he knows everything he needs to about them in order to get to the other side of the river on their backs.

Much as Evil Colonel Sanders is Lucifer!lite, Bart is Crowley!lite. He saw how Crowley worked with the Winchesters, and decided to take a leaf out of his book, but doesn’t understand the larger consequences of that choice. So far Crowley is the only antagonist who has ever realised that the Winchesters are always more dangerous than their enemies think -- they have taken down Gods and monsters, and even Death cannot stop them for long. It was almost inevitable that they would hunt Bart, no matter what was at stake (does that make them the scorpion?). Add in Smash, an actual victim, who Dean uses his supernatural bonding skills on, and that outcome went to a 100% certainty. This dilemma is prefigured early in the episode:

DEAN: You know, this could be a trap. I mean he could work for Asmodeus. SAM: Yeah, but what if he's telling the truth? DEAN: You know, after Crowley, I told myself, no more demons. SAM: Dean, we don't even know what this guy's deal is. DEAN: Yeah, we do. He's a freakin' demon. SAM: Yeah, but you said it yourself, we need a miracle. And maybe this is it. DEAN: You know what "miracles" are called from demons? I don't know, but I'm pretty sure it's not "miracles". SAM: How about this? Let's hear the guy out. DEAN: All right, and after that, we kill him.

They enter the Smile Diner.

Did anyone else hear the name of this diner and think of Hamlet and the whole, “one may smile, and smile, and be a villain” speech? It really made me think of Crowley too -- if you go read the speech, you’ll see what I mean: http://nfs.sparknotes.com/hamlet/page_66.html.

BARTHAMUS: The famous Winchesters. DEAN: Some random demon. BARTHAMUS: Barthamus. Bart's fine. Please, sit. I ordered cherry pie. DEAN: Well, Bart, don't know what you've heard about us, but… BARTHAMUS: Everything. I've been following your careers a long time. You're a real pain in the pitchfork. And the halo. Natural disrupters. We have that in common, you and I. DEAN: Mm. Yeah, we're twinsies. (x)

Dean was a much better demon than this, and Dean was basically a shitty demon. Dean’s moral compass seems to be working perfectly here, though: some random demon, indeed.

Except... there’s the way the episode ends.

DEAN: You okay? SAM: Yeah, not really. Not exactly the best day, you know? DEAN: Well, it's not the worst. We did save somebody. That felt good. SAM: Yeah. Yeah, it did. But… [Sighs] back to square one with Jack. DEAN: We'll figure something else out. And if that doesn't work, then we'll move on to next, and then whatever's after that. We just keep working, 'cause it's what we do. SAM: It feels really good to hear you talk like that again. DEAN: I'll drink to that.

Sam and Dean clink their beer bottles and take a drink. (x)

So is Dean right here, too?

“It’s what we do,” Dean says about Hunting, as though he and Sam are only and entirely defined by Hunting, and that they do have an essential nature that can’t be changed, despite Dean’s recent bout of feelings.

If that’s really true, it’s an enormous problem, both for themselves and for Jack. Toxic masculinity is part of what they always do. Abusive fathers, the MoL’s sexism, the Angel breeding program, Mary/Dean making a deal, John/Sam sacrificing themselves...

If a person’s nature can’t ever be changed, all of these patterns are what the Winchesters are made up of and will always remain. That isn’t a very hopeful picture, so I kind of hope Dean’s wrong about he and Sam being nothing but their work.

Can people change?  Can they make different choices? Will the Winchesters make the same mistakes all over again at the end of the season -- will they sting the frog and doom themselves? Or will they try out new and better mistakes, and make it safely to the other side of the river along with the frog?

I guess we’ll find out soon enough. I’m hoping for something new, but I gotta say, I’m starting to think that Castiel and Jack are the frogs.

Previously:

I never opened myself this way (13x01 and 13x02)

You say you've only got one life to live (13x03, 13x04, 13x05)          

#supernatural #spn meta #meta #season 13 #spoilers #dean winchester #same winchester #theme #nature vs nurture #jack kline #castiel