#cas saying 'prayer is a sign of faith'

[silver-stake-through-the-heart]

Look, no disrespect, but ahh, I'm not exactly a believer.

-1x12

Casey: Do you believe in God, Dean? I'd be surprised if you did.

I don't know. I'd like to.

-3x04

You didn't toy with us, Chuck, okay? You didn't create us. (...) Chuck, you're not a god!

-4x18

Well, I feel stupid doing this. But… I am fresh out of options. So please. I need some help. I'm praying, okay? Come on. Please.

Prayer is a sign of faith. This is a good thing, Dean.

-4x18

Listen, Chuckles, even if there is a God, he is either dead—and that's the generous theory—

He is out there, Dean.

—or he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us.

-5x02

I mean there were times when I was looking for my dad when all logic said that he was dead, but I knew in my heart he was still alive. Who cares what some ninja turtle says, Cas, what do you believe?

I believe he's out there.

Good. Then go find him.

-5x03

And you're just gonna do whatever God says.

Michael: Yes, because I am a good son.

Okay, well, trust me, pal. Take it from someone who knows—that is a dead-end street.

-5x13

Thanks.

Yeah, don't mention it. Yeah, I've been there. I'm a big expert on deadbeat dads. So…Yeah, I get it. I know how you feel.

-5x17

Listen, I need you to pray to your angel buddies and let them know that I'm here.

-5x18

Cas, are you God?

That's a nice compliment. But no.

-5x22

What do you mean you don't know?

Sam: I mean, no idea. I–I'm just back.

Well, was it God, or– or– or Cas? I mean, does Cas know anything about it?

-6x01

Sam: Castiel…This is really important, okay? Um…We really need to talk to you.

Castiel…Come on in.

Cas is busy.

-6x20

I'm not an angel anymore. I'm your new god. You will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord, or I shall destroy you.

Stop.

What's the point if you don't mean it? You fear me. Not love, not respect, just fear.

-7x01

Yeah? What about God part deux?

-7x01

Sam: Dean, all we can do is talk to the guy.

He's not a guy. He's God. And he's pissed. And when God gets righteous, you get the hell out of the way; haven't you read the Bible?

-7x01

Sam: Well, I mean is there some kind of heavenly weapon? Maybe something out of that angel arsenal that Balthazar stole? There has to be something that can hurt him.

He's God, Sam. There's nothing, but there might be someone.

-7x01

Cas, you got your ears on? Listen, you know I am not one for praying, 'cause in my book it's... it's the same as begging. But this is about Sam, so I need you to hear me. We are going into this deal blind... and I don't know what's ahead or what it's gonna bring for Sam. Now, he's covering pretty good, but I know that he is hurting, and this one was supposed to be on me. So, for all that we've been through, I'm asking you– you keep a lookout for my little brother, okay? Where the hell are you, man?

-8x16

Doctor: I'm afraid that's in God's hands now.

You're a doctor. You're a medical professional. You're trying to tell me that my brother's life is in God's hands? What, is that supposed to be a– a comfort?

Doctor: Mr. Dougherty–

No, God has nothing to do with this equation at all.

Doctor: I didn't mean–

That's not good enough.

Cas, are you there? Sammy's hurt. He's hurt, uh– he's hurt pretty bad. And, um... I know you think that I'm pissed at you, okay? But I don't care that the angels fell. So whatever you did or didn't do, it doesn't matter, okay? We'll work it out. Please, man, I need you here.

-9x01

There is a God. *answers the phone* Hello?

I may have a case for you.

-9x06

Metatron is trying to play God.

Sam: Play God? Cas, he erased angel warding. He friggin' blew out Holy Fire. He is God. He's powering up with the angel tablet. How the hell are we supposed to stop this guy?

All right, so what if there is a stairway to heaven? We find it and get a drop on the guy.

-9x18

Tessa: There's no God. There's only Castiel.

-9x22

I believe there is a God. But I'm not sure he still believes in us.

-10x06

Don't count on God. Okay? Count on us.

-11x07

Chuck: Well, I've been mulling it over. And from where I sit, I think it has.

Well, from where I sit, it feels like you left us and you're trying to justify it.

Chuck: I know you had a complicated upbringing, Dean, but don't confuse me with your dad.

-11x21

Gail: Do you know God, gentlemen?

Oh, yeah. Yeah, we're– we're besties.

-12x04

Okay, Chuck… or god, or whatever. I need your help. See, you– you left us. You left us. You went off. You said… You said the earth would be fine because it had me… and it had Sam, but it’s not, and we’re not.

We've lost everything. And now you're gonna bring him back. Okay?

God's not listening. He doesn't give a damn.

-13x01

Okay, that's it. I'm done, all right? 'Cause he's not God, he's not Cas, he's not Simba. He's the friggin' Devil!

-13x02

Oh, I believe. Hell, I know. God? He doesn't give a damn about you or me or anyone else. So, if you're expecting some sort of a-a miracle to happen, well… good luck.

-13x15

No, we're done talking. 'Cause this– this isn't just a story. It's our lives! So God or no God, you go to hell.

-14x20

Fight God? Without the gun? It's God, Sam. And he's coming for us. How the hell are we supposed to fight God?

-15x05

Listen to yourself. "We're owed." "We deserve." Come on, man. You're not God. Hell, God's not even God.

-15x07

Cas? Cas, I hope you can hear me... that wherever you are, it's not too late. I should've stopped you. You're my best friend, but I just let you go. 'Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong.

I– Ohh. I don't know why I get so angry. I just know– I know that it's– i-it's just always been there. And when things go bad, it just– it comes out. And I can't– I can't stop it. No matter how– how bad I want to, I just can't stop it. And– And I– I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. I'm sorry it took me so long– I'm sorry it took me till now to say it. Cas, I'm– I'm so sorry. Man, I hope you can hear me. I hope you can hear me. Okay.

Okay, Cas, I need to say something.

You don't have to say it. I heard your prayer.

-15x09

Sam: So… does this mean you're the new… I mean, what do we call you?

Who cares what we call him? Look, all that matters is he got us back online.

-15x19

Do not make any idols in any form, because the Lord your God hates for his people to worship other gods. The Lord your God is a consuming fire, a jealous God. He tolerates no rivals.

[Deuteronomy 4:23-24]

#how god is knocked out of his pedestal to become just someone's dad #and an angel gather all the faith becoming an idol #destiel #dean winchester #prayers #are you god? #castiel #chuck shurley #dean and faith #(i know 12x04 is meant to be irony #but it would be the only occurrence dean use sth synonymous of bf for someone else than cas #even demon!dean corrects crowley saying they aren't friends) #(btw you know how hard it's to choose a version of the bible to quote? #so many wordings #i made a mix #i used all my fav sentences #and i'm not sorry about it) #spn quotes #dean winchester quotes #my post

[fanfic-corner]

do u have any fics that i wont have heard of? like ones with fewer hits so there harder to find

ooo this is a good one, anon! you haven't specified which fandom you're interested in, so I'll start with SPN and then do some other fandoms if people are interested :) and for the purposes of this, I'll be counting anything with under 5k hits as lesser known!

Lesser Known Destiel Fics

you're the one that i wanted to find by badritual (373)

The Castiel of old has fallen away like molted feathers, leaving behind a wholly new creation.

gay love pierced through the veil of death and saved the day by honeybee (444)

Cas doesn’t die. That’s literally it.

this is a good thing, dean. (prayer is a sign of faith) by cascountsdeansfreckles (529)

Dean’s legs still don’t want to move. He sits propped up against the wall and stares unseeing at the chair in the middle of the room. Everything that Cas said plays over and over in his head. The image of Cas looking devastatingly relieved, content, as he was taken from Dean won’t leave his mind.

He doesn’t know what else to do. So he prays.

1 Missed Call by glenien (597)

The buzzing never stops.

so it goes by K_K_TiBal (665)

Castiel returns one more time to retrieve something he left behind.

absurd in the best way by clasch (669)

Castiel tries to make a pie for Dean.

Bodily Communion by runsinthefamily (905)

Survival in Purgatory has some weird aspects.

may i feel said he by bk119 (1k)

a coda to 15.19. cas comes back, and words are said.

choices. by scoundrelhan (1.1k)

Castiel thinks he’s dying. Humans are always doing that.

you can have it, though by make_your_user_a_name (1.1k)

Jack was walking away and it was too late. It was too late because Dean didn’t think he would have to say anything. He thought Jack would bring it up and they would never have to know that he missed Cas so desperately it hurt. It hurt so goddamn bad.

And then Jack stopped and turned back to the Winchesters, his eyes focused on Dean. And that’s when it hit him. Jack knew. Jack knew what Cas had said. Jack knew Dean needed to say it or the second Cas was back everything would just go back to normal.

So he did.

“Bring him back.” His voice was low but it wasn’t threatening. It came out more broken than anything. Because he was so broken. And maybe it was okay to let them see it. “Bring Cas back, Jack. We,” he glanced at Sam and took a deep breath. “I need him.”

15x18 coda: it's in the being by contemplativepancakes (1.1k)

Blood splatters from a severed neck, the body twitching before it collapses to the floor. It sprays across Dean’s face, dotting red droplets over his cheeks and in his hair. Dean keeps his mouth shut so he doesn’t get the taste of copper stuck in it; he already can’t get Cas’s face out of his mind.

Dean knows this is the last place he should be, that with the world ending, it doesn’t really matter if there’s one less nest of vamps in the world, but if he stops moving, then he’ll… have to think.

“I wondered what my true happiness could even look like, because the one thing I want, it’s something I know I can’t have.”

Fuck, they wasted so much time.

15x19 coda: stripped of everything holy by contemplativepancakes (1.2k)

“About time we put you on the family tree, right?”

Jack sinks down in the chair across from him, contemplating. He puts the tip to the table and rests it there.

Jack glances up at him. “Why isn’t Cas’s name here?”

That’s a damn good question, Dean thinks. It’s because he was too much of a fucking coward. Dean’s still having trouble reconciling everything Cas said with the past ten years of his life. It seems like, maybe, if he thinks about it hard enough, he can see that Cas returned his feelings, but he still can’t believe Cas said all those things. He’s bullshit all the way through, but Cas… Cas hadn’t thought so.

Dean clears his throat. “We’ll add his next, huh?”

candles & wishes by harrow (1.2k)

Dean turned to Cas speculatively. “Do you have a birthday?”

Now Everything is Easy 'cause of You by chai_lattes (1.3k)

Cas never understood why humans were so fond of sleeping, but he was starting to. Dean chalked it up to knowing that they were finally safe, or Cas finally had a real bed, but Cas would just smile, quietly knowing the real difference was no longer having to sleep alone.

Cas reflects on being human, being happy, and being a morning person.

Chocolate, Caramel, and Zombies (Of a Metaphorical Sense) by TextReciprocation (1.4k)

Castiel approached the counter and looked at the menu contemplatively. The barista spun around to face him, eyes bright and hair untidy. He was roughly Castiel's height and build, with sandy hair and lightly tanned skin. Castiel's breath caught at the sight of him, but he bit his tongue, chastising himself.

Cute baristas were rarely gay and always taken. Castiel knew this. Fate, as it happened, was a cruel mistress.

Never Enough by make_your_user_a_name (1.5k)

It took him hours to notice it. He hadn’t felt it in the moment. Hadn’t felt the Cas’ hand stick slightly to his shoulder as it pushed him away, leaving him to face the Empty alone.

But now that he’d noticed it, it was all he could look at. That bright red handprint standing out starkly against his jacket. It was perfect, really. Not a drop out of place. Just a handprint and nothing else. That was all he had left.

The handprint where Castiel had “gripped him tight and raised him from perdition.” And now he’d saved him one more time. Same shoulder, same placement, same sting when Dean looked at it.

It was poetic in the cruelest of ways. And if it weren’t for everything, he would have thought this was Chuck’s writing. But, no. Castiel was the only part of Chuck’s story that he couldn’t control. Because Cas had fallen.

how's hope feeling today by sleepinnude (1.5k)

After Cas is gone, bees start to follow Dean.

Sunrise by mattzerella_sticks (1.7k)

Dean and Sam were free. Finally, unequivocally, free.

But this wasn't the happy ending Dean had expected. Maybe in the past, having Sam in the passenger seat tearing across an open stretch of highway as the sunsets, it'd be what he wanted. But that was years ago. He's not that man anymore. Dean's tired of sunsets, of saying goodbye. He yearns for a different ending. One that's less of an ending, and more of a beginning. A sunrise instead of a sunset.

Sam has his. Dean lost his. Despite this setback, he won't stop. He'll live in memory of his sunrise.

Except, what can he do when he feels those rays on his face again?

Loving Castiel by dinluke (1.9k)

“How did you find me?” Dean asks. Castiel squints and looks at him like he’s the sun.

“Your, uh, yearning was pretty loud,” he says sheepishly.

Sleep Deprivation by Honey_Honey (2.3k)

Dean licked his lips. They tasted like honey. Which was funny, seeing as it was the one part of his breakfast he hadn’t eaten. In fact, Cas had tried the honey instead.

Oh. Oh fuck.

“Did I just kiss Cas?”

And Sam’s descent into uncontrollable laughter was an answer enough.

Walk Through Fire For You by purple_charlie (2.3k)

Boyfriend.

The word still feels foreign in Dean’s mouth, still brings back echoes of John Winchester’s thinly-veiled (if even that) homophobia. "Man up, don’t be a sissy, I didn’t raise a fairy". It’s a swollen blister in the back of Dean’s mind, throbbing with pain whenever a stranger’s eyes linger too long on Cas’ hand in his, whenever a waitress double-takes at how close they sit in diner booths.

But here, dirty dancing with Cas in a warehouse full of other queer folks, Dean wants to shout from the rooftops- I’m Dean Winchester, I drive the baddest car in town, I lift heavy things for a living, and this is my boyfriend.

Could Not Return You by tigersinlondon (2.8k)

Dean might have gotten over himself when it comes to sleeping with Cas (in the sex way, not the cuddles-and-snoring way), and even telling him that he loves him, but he’s not ready to do anything crazy like hold his hand in public, or admit aloud that they’re in a relationship in front of Sam, or God forbid, actually share a room, a bed, a living space with Cas.

Funny Bone by PallasPerilous (4.9k)

It wasn’t even a particularly creepy skeleton; it was in kind of a “just chillin’” pose on the floor. One ankle was still locked up in a heavy iron cuff, at the end of a short chain leading back to the wall. Snoresville, as dead stuff goes; Dean’s seen worse at Disneyland.

It was the skeleton’s comment about Dean’s ass that really livened things up.

Compromise by tiamatv (7.5k)

It wasn't uncommon for Dean to find himself tracking down an ex-angel in their underground home in the middle of the night, because Cas got nightmares. Ten years ago, though, if anyone had told Dean this would become a semi-regular occurrence in his life, he’d probably have laughed so hard, his beer would have come out of his nose.

Crazy Hex Girlfriend by whichstiel (10k)

Dean and Castiel infiltrate an extravagant couples-only Halloween party at the invitation of the party’s host who has been receiving mysterious threats. They patrol the party for hex bags and dark altars, interview suspects, and Dean happily scores a lot of free food. He just wishes he could score with Cas.

How Many Slams In An Old Screen Door? [podfic] by Tenoko1 (15k/2hr podfic)

In which Castiel is a theatre major terrible at first impressions; Dean is a set designer who likes Cas anyway; and the most chaotic production of Les Miserables in history somehow manages to go off without a hitch. Or, just as you should never give a moose a muffin (because he'll want some jam to go with it), you should never give a blank check to a university theatre department. [podfic version]

The Cabin on the Lake by DeanRH (22k)

The Winchester brothers are long lost to history. The angel keeps the vigil, haunted by the shadows of his regrets.

Among other things.

this post is getting way too long so I'm gonna start a second one now!! hopefully you can enjoy these lesser known fics in the meantime :)

#destiel #supernatural #spn #fic recs #lesser known #lina lore #castiel #dean winchester

[vollzz]

vampire worldbuilding today has largely failed so I will take this time to ramble about how each main character gives their sermons [author’s note: it has a lot to do with their personalities ooooooHH]:

Silead pretty much exclusively preaches about sin. She often leads prayers asking the Holy Givers for absolution and forgiveness, alongside giving speeches about what constitutes sin, why everyone is a sinner, and what to do to seek absolution and reach the promised land. None of what she says is written down - instead she speaks very off-the-cuff, with her sermons functioning as thinly veiled personal meditations about her inner struggles. She always signs off with the wish, “May you seek the light of peace.”

Cas speaks often on forgiveness, community, and healing one’s inner demons/struggles. He seeks to soothe the concerns of the members he preaches to, often trying to clarify trickier parts of the holy texts. A stack of handwritten pages containing the content of his sermons is always propped up on the altar in front of him - he mostly reads from it but occasionally will go off script if he is feeling particularly confident that day. He always signs off with an encouraging line related to the day’s sermon.

Boz (after a series of negative feedback from sessions where he dared to breathe inline commentary about scripture) mostly reads directly from the holy texts. His rationale for this change is that it is important to return to the foundations of faith. Occasionally he will offer a sentence or two on how the passage he read can be utilized in one’s daily life, or alternative ways it may be interpreted. He also requires the altar for his sermons so as to accommodate a stack of books containing the original scripture. Boz always signs off with “Have a blessed and holy day.” Note that while things such as the Holy Givers are capitalized in Cas and Silead’s speeches, Boz’s dialogue does not capitalize important nouns/phrases. (This is because he Really Really Does Not Care)

thank you for reading, and no, there is still no actual plot for this yet

(I would think to tag ppl here but I’m gone and don’t have my computer and never wrote the mini list down SORRY)

#errr making up a wip tag on the spot #wip: vampires but in the future #yes it is unoriginal #don’t come for me #writes #writeblr

[bookoformon]

The Book of Mosiah, Chapter 3. "The Natural Man." Parsha Arafel, "The Fog" continues.

King Benjamin continues his address—The Lord Omnipotent will minister among men in a tabernacle of clay—Blood will come from every pore as He atones for the sins of the world—His is the only name whereby salvation comes—Men can put off the natural man and become Saints through the Atonement—The torment of the wicked will be as a lake of fire and brimstone. About 124 B.C.

King Benjamin means "The Most Enlightened Builder of the House". He says there is a way we can separate from all wierd ideas about the puddle of blood and the lake of fire by looking ahead:

1 And again my brethren, I would call your attention, for I have somewhat more to speak unto you; for behold, I have things to tell you concerning that which is to come.

2 And the things which I shall tell you are made known unto me by an angel from God. And he said unto me: Awake; and I awoke, and behold he stood before me.

3 And he said unto me: Awake, and hear the words which I shall tell thee; for behold, I am come to declare unto you the glad tidings of great joy.

4 For the Lord hath heard thy prayers, and hath judged of thy righteousness, and hath sent me to declare unto thee that thou mayest rejoice; and that thou mayest declare unto thy people, that they may also be filled with joy.

5 For behold, the time cometh, and is not far distant, that with power, the Lord bOmnipotent who reigneth, who was, and is from all eternity to all eternity, shall come down from heaven among the children of men, and shall dwell in a tabernacle of clay, and shall go forth amongst men, working mighty miracles, such as healing the sick, raising the dead, causing the lame to walk, the blind to receive their sight, and the deaf to hear, and curing all manner of diseases.

6 And he shall cast out devils, or the evil spirits which dwell in the hearts of the children of men.

7 And lo, he shall suffer temptations, and pain of body, hunger, thirst, and fatigue, even more than man can suffer, except it be unto death; for behold, blood cometh from every pore, so great shall be his anguish for the wickedness and the abominations of his people.

8 And he shall be called Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Father of heaven and earth, the Creator of all things from the beginning; and his mother shall be called Mary.

9 And lo, he cometh unto his own, that salvation might come unto the children of men even through faith on his name; and even after all this they shall consider him a man, and say that he hath a devil, and shall scourge him, and shall crucify him.

10 And he shall arise the third day from the dead; and behold, he standeth to judge the world; and behold, all these things are done that a righteous judgment might come upon the children of men.

11 For behold, and also his blood batoneth for the sins of those who have fallen by the transgression of Adam, who have died not knowing the will of God concerning them, or who have ignorantly sinned.

12 But wo, wo unto him who knoweth that he rebelleth against God! For salvation cometh to none such except it be through repentance and faith on the Lord Jesus Christ.

13 And the Lord God hath sent his holy prophets among all the children of men, to declare these things to every kindred, nation, and tongue, that thereby whosoever should believe that Christ should come, the same might receive remission of their sins, and rejoice with exceedingly great joy, even cas though he had already come among them.

14 Yet the Lord God saw that his people were a stiffnecked people, and he appointed unto them a law, even the law of Moses.

15 And many signs, and wonders, and types, and shadows showed he unto them, concerning his coming; and also holy prophets spake unto them concerning his coming; and yet they hardened their hearts, and understood not that the law of Moses availeth nothing except it were through the atonement of his blood.

16 And even if it were possible that little children could sin they could not be saved; but I say unto you they are blessed; for behold, as in Adam, or by nature, they fall, even so the blood of Christ atoneth for their sins.

17 And moreover, I say unto you, that there shall be no other name given nor any other way nor means whereby salvation can come unto the children of men, only in and through the name of Christ, the Lord Omnipotent.

18 For behold he judgeth, and his judgment is just; and the infant perisheth not that dieth in his infancy; but men drink damnation to their own souls except they humble themselves and become as little children, and believe that salvation was, and is, and is to come, in and through the atoning blood of Christ, the Lord Omnipotent.

19 For the natural man is an enemy to God, and has been from the fall of Adam, and will be, forever and ever, unless he yields to the enticings of the Holy Spirit, and putteth off the natural man and becometh a saint through the atonement of Christ the Lord, and becometh as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father.

20 And moreover, I say unto you, that the time shall come when the knowledge of a Savior shall spread throughout every nation, kindred, tongue, and people.

21 And behold, when that time cometh, none shall be found blameless before God, except it be little children, only through repentance and faith on the name of the Lord God Omnipotent.

22 And even at this time, when thou shalt have taught thy people the things which the Lord thy God hath commanded thee, even then are they found no more blameless in the sight of God, only according to the words which I have spoken unto thee.

23 And now I have spoken the words which the Lord God hath commanded me.

24 And thus saith the Lord: They shall stand as a bright testimony against this people, at the judgment day; whereof they shall be judged, every man according to his works, whether they be good, or whether they be evil.

25 And if they be evil they are consigned to an awful view of their own guilt and abominations, which doth cause them to shrink from the presence of the Lord into a state of misery and endless torment, from whence they can no more return; therefore they have drunk damnation to their own souls.

26 Therefore, they have drunk out of the cup of the wrath of God, which justice could no more deny unto them than it could deny that Adam should fall because of his partaking of the forbidden fruit; therefore, mercy could have claim on them no more forever.

27 And their torment is as a lake of fire and brimstone, whose flames are unquenchable, and whose smoke ascendeth up forever and ever. Thus hath the Lord commanded me. Amen.

Don't get too jazzed about Bloody Mary and the Atonement quite yet- this is just a description of what is supposedly going to happen in about century according to the Gematria above. Remember from the Book of Jacob, the Atonement is mankind's to perform, for all the wicked things it has done. Without it, nothing can be done.

And what is to be the result? Not the Natural Man, like Adam, but one who has the benefit of knowing all human history to help shape his conduct.

As for the real potent meaning of the journey of Christ, the crucifixion, the Atonement and salvation itself in contemporary America, the Prophet continues to go into detail. In the meantime, he thinks people should follow the Laws of Moses.

One thing is for sure, salvation does not apply to anyone who voted for Donald Trump, knew he cheated in that election, watched him commit War Crimes and then said or did nothing.

As the text says, persons like these without boundaries or the ability to withdraw from the forbidden thrills associated with drugs, incest, the pederasty, cheating, violence, corruption, and then the intrigue to cover it all up- they must be judged according to the fruits of their actions.

[sir-elyan]

.... do you think cas ever prays to dean too

#like okay hear me out #we think of cas and his change of religion from THEE biblical god to family which we can see in Gimme Shelter in the community worship group #and we can also think about the taking away of 'iel' or 'of god' from cas' name #which dean is the one to do #gives cas a new name #cas saying 'prayer is a sign of faith' #we can just...it is THERE that dean is basically cas' new religion #cas is devoted to him #so is it really that crazy to think that cas would pray to dean too? #like maybe not in the same way that dean prays to cas #but we know cas prayed to god for answers and guidance #cough cas learning and getting guidance from dean about humanity cough #so if his new faith is in dean/family... #okay you get where i'm going but anyway there are a few ways he might have gone about this #what does he consider to be prayer? he tells claire that he can sense longing as a form of prayer #and cas is canonically in love with dean...'something i know i can't have' #but something he longs for #maybe cas has been 'praying' to dean for years #he can't even remember when he started doing it #but the longing is there and dean just can't hear it because...well he isn't an angel #so there...there is another form of miscommunication there #we've got dean's prayer to cas in purgatory which is something cas can hear...something that cas assumes holds everything that dean wants #to say except its not...there is more that dean needs to get out...but cas stops him with 'i heard your prayer' #and dean...dean can only hear what cas says out loud to him #he can't hear the longing and the praying and the worship but it's THERE #so the silencing and the inability to say their truth fully #it goes both ways #cas hears what dean prays but not what he speaks #and dean hears what cas says but not what he prays #i'm losing my mind

[restlesshush]

Forever thinking about how Cas being a better love interest for Dean than Anna in season 4 isn’t just because Cas and Dean have infinitely more chemistry: it’s also baked into the very nature of their characters!

Anna is too self-actualised, really, to be a foil for s4 Dean in the way Cas was: she has already chosen to fall, and this has absolutely nothing to do with Dean. Whereas Cas is only just falling! Anna couldn’t do “can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?” or “prayer is a sign of faith” because her questioning of heaven is already entirely out in the open, and she actively does not want to cultivate faith in heaven (or anything adjacent). All of which makes her a fascinating character who they absolutely should have done more with! But it also means that the incredibly romantic symmetry of one teaching the other faith while the other teaches them doubt would just never really have been available to a Dean/Anna storyline.

The tension of the beautiful room scenes in a hypothetical Lucifer Rising with Anna instead of Cas would also be completely different: pre presumed brain-washing, Anna was already completely on the side of humanity over heaven, whereas Cas was just being pulled past teetering! It would be a question of Dean winning her back to her own previously held beliefs, rather than winning her properly over to his, the way it played out with Cas. “I did it, all of it, for you” is wild as a line from a character who was ostensibly not a love interest, while on the other hand Anna wouldn’t even be able to say it afterwards, because it wouldn’t remotely be true. As hilarious as it is that they didn’t really bother to give Cas a character motivation beyond being in love with Dean, it’s also pretty amusing that they gave Dean’s intended love interest a sufficiently strong separate character motivation, that it would be doing her a disservice to imply he was anything more than incidental to her journey.

Something something Anna puts her hand over Cas’s handprint but it’s his handprint and his hand was always meant to go there.

#spn #spn meta #destiel #destiel meta #dean winchester #castiel #anna milton #spn s4 #lucifer rising #spn 4x22 #genuinely i expected to watch s4 and be like #‘oh it’s hilarious how little chemistry dean has with this woman’ #whereas actually she also has a ton of her own stuff going on #in a way that means making her primarily dean’s love interest would be a downgrade #in comparison to how cas and dean’s arcs actively complement each other very well #worded thoughts

[drivingsideways]

For @the-ever-present-julie, based off this tumblr post.

Five times Dean and Cas kissed and never talked about it, and the one time they did and still won’t talk about it. 

Five.

It's not like Dean hasn't thought about it before.

That first month after he crawled his way out of his grave? He'd never told Sam or Bobby, but that entire month, hell, more like three,  he'd been convinced that it was all just one of Alastair's tricks. That Alastair had moved on from the crude, visceral pleasure of blood and guts and shredded flesh to this—letting him dream, and then, right when he'd let himself believe it, that the impossible had happened, Alastair would take it away.

The sick fuck.

But two could play that game, alright?

Dean- Dean was good at this. Dean knew Alastair, like calling to like in the putrid depths of hell. Dean would find a way to trip him up, it was like that time with the djinn. Find the thing that didn't fit, the thing that was impossible to explain, and then tug at that thread until it all unraveled.

Well, he didn't have to look too far.

Castiel, angel of the Lord, who made his ears bleed, and his stomach swoop—well— come the fuck on, there was no possible way his mind could have generated this. This was Alastair, through and through, Alastair who had put him on the rack and taken more pieces out of him than he'd known existed, who'd worked him over and over and over, and somewhere along the way learnt enough about Dean that he'd—

The handprint buzzed and ached and tingled and Castiel's blue, blue eyes had looked right through him, and said things like you don't think you deserve to be saved, and if  I tell you something, will you keep it a secret, I'm not a hammer, and no, this would not be the thing he let himself believe, this would not be one more way that Alastair broke him. In the backseat of his car, Anna had fitted her palm onto the scar, her delicate, smooth palm too small for it, the whorls of her fingers caressing the edges, and it had been electric, and all wrong, because it wasn't her mark that Dean carried on his friggin' re-hymenated body (it wasn't her who had gripped him tight and raised him from perdition, and Dean's body knew it in a way that Dean wasn't going to think about, let alone—)

That sonuvabitch Alastair would not break him with a fairy tale that innocent people told their children, angels watch over you, but his mother had not been innocent in all of this, had she, she had sold Sammy to the Devil, and Castiel had laid a hand on his shoulder (but had not touched his mark, why hadn't—) and had looked at Dean with something like sorrow, and didn't seem to mind when Dean called him Cas, brought him down to his level, and fuck, here he was again, out of options, out of luck, out of fuel, and his brother was someone he didn't recognize.

The sickest thing was how that was the part  that had felt real, felt painful in a way that Alastair could have never devised. Dean's soul was putting himself in the hands of a demon bitch, and there was fuck all that Dean could do about it. This was how he broke then, in the words of a prayer, the first he'd ever said, and he hadn't  known whom he was praying to, but it had been Cas who showed up, eyes bluer than any summer sky Dean had ever seen, face striated by the colours of a vending machine, and said, faith is a good sign, Dean. What was it a sign of, Dean would have liked to know, and it wasn't faith, not by a long shot, but what could a creature like Castiel have known of desperation?  Castiel who stood close, too close, but had touched him only twice, who'd said, it's not blame that rests on you, it's fate, and yeah, that was fucking Winchester Gospel for you, cursed from the start, the two of them, before they were in the womb, born under a bad sign.

But Cas had helped, and Dean had begun to think—but of course, Cas left, and there was only poor, stupid Jimmy Novak, and then Cas was back, but not really, Cas was a stranger, and Dean didn't know when he'd stopped thinking of Cas as a stranger, and just, strange—

 Dean had laid one across Castiel's marble-face that didn't shatter, tried, because what else could he have done? This is real, this is the only thing that's worth it and even before the disappointment of having Cas leave could sink in, the handprint had buzzed and ached and tingled  as Cas pressed him against a wall and pressed a palm against his lips and then bled on the floor, for Dean, (whom he didn't serve) and Cas had said, I'll hold them all off, go save him, but of course it had been too late, because that was the story of Dean's life, too late, too late.

Cas comes back, and oh look, Cas has learnt what desperation means, after all. There's something wild in his eyes, that he tries to hide but doesn't succeed when he says, we need God, it's not theological, it's strategic, and if Dean had a moment to take a breath, he would have wanted to sit Cas down, and say, listen man, I understand it, but this is a road to nowhere, you're only going to waste your time, you gotta stop loving what can't love you back, and yeah, that'd have been hypocritical of him, but so what, that was pretty low down on Dean's laundry list of sins.

But it's the Apocalypse, and as it happens Dean's got his own shit to deal with, and Cas isn't his responsibility, so what if he just died for Dean or whatever, alright, Dean owes him, but not like that.

And now it's the end of the world, their last night on earth, and Dean's not too late to make Cas smile at him, confused but fond, and Castiel's smile is nothing like Jimmy Novak's. Cas is nothing like Jimmy Novak who'd just been a naive man in an ugly suit, and well. He'd promised Cas a good time, and Dean's not got a lot to give Cas, by way of thanks or comfort or anything, and what had Cas said that time? Everything on earth is pain, but that's only cause he doesn't know, the good parts, the best parts, and before Dean can chicken out of it, he's pressing Cas up against the Impala, and Cas is letting him, goes willing, pliant, staring at him, eyes wide, and Dean sees the moment it happens, the small hitch of breath he takes, that Cas, who doesn't need to breathe makes, and his eyes dart to Dean's lips and flash up again, and Dean's kissing him, and it's—riding a comet—

Cas doesn't know how to kiss.

But that's fine, that's a-ok, because Dean does, and Dean can show him, and Cas is a quick learner, zero to six hundred in twenty seconds or less, and now it's Dean who can't breathe except in loud, panting gasps, Cas's warm, strong hand wrapped with his around their dicks, not enough slick, a little too rough, too painful, perfect, perfect, and Cas is eating his face, teeth sharp and painful on Dean's lips, eyes still wide open and unblinking, the freak, but his gaze is hot and ferocious, and Dean's eyes flutter shut again on a moan, because Dean's burning, has been burning all this time, he realizes, for this, for—

Cas rips his sleeve off, jacket and shirt, both gone,  and then his hand is there, and Dean's coming, wet, thick and nasty all over an angel's hand, he should be going to hell for this, except Cas hadn't let him stay there, and hadn't thrown him back, and this was real, Dean shuddering, face hidden in the crook of Cas' neck, trembling, his knees giving way, but Cas' got him, the hand on his shoulder slipping lower, around his back to hold him up, holding him in place,  and Dean should— he should—

 Four.

He  wakes up alone in a motel room, and there is a tomorrow, and then the  day after, but no Cas, and then there is two thousand fucking fourteen, and Cas is still there in the ruins that Sam and Dean made of the world , jesus fucking christ on a candy stick, Cas is still there.

Cas is broken, because Dean did that to him, and Cas kisses him, once, open mouthed and filthy, and then draws back and says, the day I decide to stay, make sure I don't, please, if you ever cared even a little, promise me, and then Cas goes off to die with even-more-of-an-asshole-future-him, because that's just how he rolls.

 Three.

He shouldn't.

If that mook Zach's little thought experiment had taught him anything, it should have been this- that Cas was off limits.

That he shouldn't keeping finding ways to keep him close.

He shouldn't keep finding ways to kiss Cas, but that's exactly what he does.

The world's ending around them in slow motion and they are fucking.

They're fucking in dank, stinking alleys, blood running down Dean's chin, and Cas licking it up, and feeding it back to him, tongue practically molesting Dean's tonsils, fingers squeezing his neck, rubbing against each other fully clothed, until Dean's coming in his pants. They're fucking on stained  bedsheets of grimy hotel rooms, lights flickering, crackling, every electronic instrument in a five mile radius gone haywire, the smell of ozone and jizz making Dean dizzier, as Cas pounds him through four successive orgasms, each more spectacular and painful than the last, Dean's body a limp rag after. They're fucking squeezed together in the backseat of the Impala, Dean hunched over Cas, occasionally knocking his head on the roof, but he can't stop, won't stop, nothing has felt this good, a thick fat dick inside him, filling up his empty places, and  Cas slack-mouthed, and eyes closed under him, hands wrapped around Dean's biceps so tight that Dean's gotta wear long sleeves through the hottest summer in three centuries, so that Sammy won't ask.

Sam knows, of course he does.

Cas isn't subtle when he turns up, dishevelled, hair sticking out in five different directions, looking pissed off and tired; shrinking, somehow, but still with that crackling power about him, and not looking at anyone or anything except at Dean, like all the roads he's taken looking for God have only led him straight back to Dean. Sam's taken to clearing his throat awkwardly, and hot-footing it out of hearing range the moment Cas appears, and just as well, Dean doesn't have it in him anymore to be quiet, sprawled wide open on the bed, hands twisting in the sheets as  Cas fucks him fuck, fuck, fuck,  jesus fuck,  if he hadn't already gone to hell, surely this would send him there, profaning this holy thing of god, whose tongue was made for songs of praise and worship, and is instead all the way up Dean's ass, dragging an orgasm out of him.

It's alright, he reasons, on the days Cas is gone, and Sam is there, but gone.

Cas and him, they're not so different after all. They're both the disappointing sons of deadbeat dads, and Cas is losing his wings and his faith at approximately the same speed that Dean's losing everything and everyone, and the world is going to hell in a handbasket, and there's no way to fix it, no way to undo it, and he's going to have to kill the love of his life, and if this is his consolation prize, he's going to take it.

(Dean loves taking it.)

Dean will take it and he doesn't want to talk about it, and hey, apparently, neither does Cas, so that's peachy, that's perfect, and Dean shouldn't, but he does, and Cas lets him, and he does, right until Sam gets thrown into the pit, and Dean doesn't.

Cas' grace knits him together, once more, and then he's gone, and so is Dean.

 Two.

Cas comes back.

But he's more of a stranger than he'd ever been, even in that barn, what feels like a lifetime ago, and he won't talk, and sure as fuck won't listen, and his blue gaze when it meets Dean's is cool as lake water, as if Dean doesn't know what Cas sounds like, strung out of his mind with pleasure, from having Dean hold him down with a binding sigil and fuck him raw.

As if they'd never been friends, and perhaps they hadn't, that was just what it was like in the war, and the war was over, and so were they.

Cas is all impatience, and anger, and sullen resentment, brittle in a way that scares Dean if he really thinks about it, because it's Cas, and something's wrong, Dean can feel it deep in his bones, just like he knew with Sammy, but he—

Look, if Cas wants to reach him, he knows how to call.

But then it's too late (again) and there's a war (again, or it was never over, why is it never over), only this time it's Cas that Dean needs to kill, really kill, and fuck if he knows how, but in the end, all he can do is watch as Cas walks into the water, and all that's left of him is a stained, torn trenchcoat.

Dean keeps it.

He can't look at it, can't stand to, that entire year, but he keeps it.

And then Cas comes back (again), but then he's gone (again) and what had Dean expected, really?

And Dean's tired, ok, so tired, so tired and sick and done, and the war is still on—maybe he shouldn't have left Cas, maybe he should have tried harder, maybe he should have called, maybe it wouldn't have all gone to shit, if Dean hadn't screwed it up once again, hadn't failed—

 "Cas"  he says, squinting against the sun on his face, up at where Cas is perched on the roof of the Impala. "Why are you covered in bees?"

The air is filled with a humming that Dean's only 90% certain are the bees.

"They like me, Dean," says Cas, as though that were a reasonable explanation, and fuck knows, maybe it was, in that fucked up noodle of his. "They wanted me to stay with them."

Shit, fuck.

Dean rubs his hands over his eyes.

"You maybe want to come inside and talk?"

Crazy or not, they needed all the help they could—

Cas hops down from the car, and the bees rise up in an angry, buzzing cloud before settling back.

"Lose the bees first", says Dean, and then regrets it, when Cas stands before him naked as a new-born.

"Dude!" yelps Dean, "Come on! Where the fuck are your clothes?"

"I—", says Cas, sounding lost and forlorn as he stares down at himself. "I'm not sure. The bees didn't like them."

And fuck, like this, Dean can see that Cas is just skin and bone, pale skin stretched over prominent ribs, hip bones jutting out—

"Well, mojo them back from wherever you left them", Dean growls, "There's a sandwich in it for you."

Cas looks up, hopeful.

"Peanut butter?"

"Sure", says Dean and hopes to god the vending machine has  something that resembles a sandwich. "But get some.." he waves his hands, not looking at Cas, because it hurts to see him like this.

There's nothing like a sandwich in the machine, so he ends up instructing Cas to wait for him in the room while he makes a quick run to the nearest store. He picks up some orange juice and bananas while he's at it, along with the bread, peanut butter and jam.

"This is very kind of you, Dean" says Cas, as he sits (fully clothed, in his hospital scrubs and trenchcoat), his hands in his lap.

"So, what, you need to eat these days?" Dean queries. "You look like you've just spent six months on a fad diet".

Cas looks away, up at the ceiling.

"The grace is more useful for other things" he says, "There's so much to do. So many creatures in pain. I forget to."

"Listen", starts Dean, because he can guess where this is coming from, hell, it isn't like—

"Is my sandwich ready?"

Dean slides it across the table, and watches as Cas wolfs it down.

There's a bit of jam that gets stuck to the corner of his mouth, and Dean gestures at it, and then, when Cas looks confused, reaches out to—

Cas flinches.

Dean freezes, hand stuck awkwardly in mid-air, throat closing up.

He leans back, withdrawing his hand.

"You've got some jam smeared at the corner of your mouth, like a goddamned three year old, Cas".

"Oh", says Cas, and it vanishes.

Dean swallows the guess you don’t mind wasting your mojo on that then, that sits on his tongue, and Cas finishes his sandwich, suddenly quiet, staring down at his sandwich,  though it wasn't like he'd been saying anything before, but it's a different sort of quiet between them now, filled with all the things that Dean wants to scream at him, and can't.

Cas doesn't touch the bananas, but slurps the orange juice, loudly.

Dean watches as Cas licks his lips, tongue darting out to taste the last of it.

When he looks up, Cas is looking at him.

He feels his cheeks heat, caught out.

"You’re sweet", says Cas, suddenly. "Sweeter than all the honey in the world".

And before Dean can process it, he leans forward, brushing his lips against Dean's; a butterfly of a kiss, and then he's gone, in a quiet whoosh, and Dean's left alone, and when he wets his suddenly parched lips, he can taste the faint bitter-sour flavour of canned orange on them.

 One

Well, Dean's not making the same mistake twice.

There's no way he's gonna leave Cas behind.

Where's the angel, he asks, as he hacks his way through Purgatory, where's the angel?

Cas, he prays, c'mon man. Don't do this to me.

Cas, please.

Once he gets slashed by something, some kind of hellbreed that seemed half werewolf, half vampire, and it's pretty bad, but somehow he manages to lose them, holed up high up in cave he'd discovered in some time ago. The view's spectacular from the ridge or would be, if the hills and valleys and forests weren't teeming with things that were out for his blood, and Cas'.

He manages the staunch the bleeding. The gash isn't too deep after all, but he's gonna have to stay put for a couple of days. But then the chills start, and he thinks, shit, shit. Starting a fire is a sure way to get killed, no way he's gonna be able to take on anything more dangerous than a field mouse right now, and fuck, he's exhausted, suddenly, and ok, this wasn't good, the ground seemed to be rushing up to meet his face—

 He's warm.

Cocooned in the softest of embraces, safe, untouchable.

"Mom?" he whispers, "Is that you?"

A hand brushes over his forehead, light and gentle.

He struggles to open his eyes, which seem to be refusing to cooperate.

It's not mom.

"Cas" he rasps, bleary eyed, throat drier than a desert. "Cas?"

"Shh" says Cas, "You're safe now. Rest, Dean."

And it's true, Dean can feel it, cradled here in—Cas' wings, he thinks, sleepily, unable to hold on to the thought. Those are Cas' wings he can feel, sheltering, soft, warm.

"You found me", he mumbles, "I've been looking for you."

"Shhh", Cas rumbles, "Don't talk. It's alright."

"Cas."

A feather light press against his mouth, and then another, and then a third.

"I'm here", Cas whispers, "Dean. Rest now."

But when he wakes up, he's alone.

If it weren't for the healed gash, skin smooth and untouched, every aching muscle restored like he'd been checked into a fancy spa for a month, he'd have been certain he dreamt it.

Then they get topside, and he wishes it had only been a dream, and not one more thing he'd have to forget.

 (Plus One)

 Sam's here, finally.

Bobby had been right, time sure passed different around here.

Sam's here now, and it's perfect.

Almost.

Cas isn't around.

Or he's everywhere, but nowhere where Dean can see him, reach out and touch him.

When he asks around, he gets vague answers.

Ellen says, oh, I think Jack and Cas are in some other planetary system this week.

Two weeks later, by Dean's counting, Rufus says, you just missed him, boy, he was here helping fix my roof not half-hour ago.

Jack says, looking embarrassed, uh, I sent him on a mission, to, um, uh, Andromeda, and then, uh, I have to go, nice seeing you again, Dean, and vanishes before Dean can whup his ass for lying to his family.

Dean gets into the Impala; tells Sam he's got a supply run to make.

"You've got like a 100 cartons of beer, Dean",  says Sam.

"Not beer, Sammy."

Sam gives him a long look.

Dean shrugs, look, it wasn't like Sam didn't know.

Sam nods, once, lips quirking a little.

"Good luck, then" he says.

Dean flips a finger at him.

"C'mon, Baby" he says, as he pulls onto the road, "Take me to him."

 Baby's never let him down.

 Of course, Cas has gone and set his feathery ass down somewhere on the highest mountain that Dean has ever seen, the top of it half hidden in a swirl of clouds. There's only a narrow trail, no way to take Baby up, so he parks her under the shade of a leafy tree of some species he's pretty sure isn't found on earth, and shrugs off his jacket, wrapping it around his waist.

Jesus, but Cas could be a real dick, and it wasn't like Dean didn't already know that, but, wow.

 The trail is narrow, though not very steep, and the foliage dense for most parts, as he begins to climb. There's a river or a small waterfall somewhere, he can hear the sound of it, a muted roar. Up and up it goes, through plants and shrubs- or things that look like plants or shrubs, he can't be sure of anything here, he's realized. Occasionally, a small woodland creature of indeterminate origin will cross his path. Some of them stop and stare. One or two get experimentally close, while he stands as still as possible, and lets them acclimatize themselves to his scent. The foliage isn't dense enough to block out all sunlight, and every now and again the path will emerge onto an outcrop of rock and grass, probably intended as a rest-stop for the weary. Dean's only slightly out of breath, though the air gets cooler as he goes higher. But the sun is warm enough for a sheen of sweat to form, making his t shirt stick to his spine.

He sinks down onto a convenient grassy knoll and takes a few breaths. Clouds float lazily over the valley below, that stretches out farther than his eye can see. The river he's hearing winds through it, clear and blue, through acres and acres of green and violet, and brown and red. He turns his face up toward the sky.

Was it possible to get sunburn in Heaven?

Well, he was going to find out.

He turns his head a little.

He's about half way up the mountain, he estimates.

Given the position of the sun, he's been climbing about three hours.

Making me work for it, huh, buddy? Dick move, Cas, gotta tell you that.

Something rustles in the grass near him: a tiny grass snake, slim and green.

Snakes in paradise, wow, wasn't that theologically wrong or something?

But it gives him a beady eyed look and slithers over his outstretched palm and then away, unbothered, leaving behind a fleeting sense of dry leather.

Dean sighs.

"Cas?" he says, softly. "You're waiting for me, right?"

He doesn't know what he'll do if Cas isn't.

The thought makes his heart triphammer in his chest, fear gripping it.

What if he was too late, again?

But he's got to believe that he's right about this.

That he's here because Cas is ready, finally, to let Dean find him.

In those years after Purgatory, they'd never managed, somehow to make it work.

Every time Cas left—every time Cas came back—it got harder, somehow, to say, don't go, please, I need you, forgive me, stay.

Dean- he'd just become angrier and meaner, falling deeper and deeper and this was a grave that even Cas couldn't pull him out of. And then, when he'd been ready-almost—that second time in Purgatory, it had seemed like Cas wasn't ready, though surely, he knew, why else had he stopped Dean—

But the joke was on Dean, because Cas hadn't known, and then it had been too late. Cas was slipping through his fingers one more time, beatific in his joy, as he threw himself into the pit for Dean, and Dean had known, had known, that it was the last time.

 When it was all over, he had waited.

Hope was a thing with feathers.

He had waited for Jack to bring Cas back to them, to Dean.

But Jack hadn't.

No way that Jack hadn't sprung Cas from the Empty, there was just no fucking way that would have happened, so that meant that Cas didn't want to see Dean.

And alright, maybe Dean deserved that, maybe that was his penance, and he would do it, gladly.

He wouldn't complain, and he'd go through the rest of his life with a piece of him missing, and it was what it was, there were things you couldn't undo, there were sorrows that had to be borne.

On the bad days, after a hunt that went wrong- there were, after all, still some of those—he'd lie  in bed, every tendon and muscle and bone aching, and when he closed his eyes, he'd try to will himself back there, to that cave in Purgatory, the safety and comfort of Cas' shelter, and the sweet press of his lips against Dean's.

Sweeter than all the honey in the world.

 He blinks awake.

Apparently he'd taken a nap, though given that the sun was still steadily beating down on his face—and yes, you could get sunburn in heaven, thanks for nothing Jack—it hadn't been too long.

It takes another two hours, and he's almost giving up hope, wondering whether he's going to end up just spending the night alone on this mountain after all, when he breaks through a particularly dense grove and finds himself in a middle of a garden.

The garden- in flagrant, dizzying bloom around a cobbled stone path that leads to a small wooden cabin nestled against the wall of the mountain- has an occupant.

Dean feels like his breath was punched out of him.

My true form is as tall as the Chrysler building, Cas had once said, the lying liar that he was, because he's probably twice as tall. He's all iridescent wings that span twenty feet either side, and a dozen wheels spinning in different directions and something that looks like blue flames trailing the edges of his wings, and Dean is—

Jesus.

Cas turns toward him at that, and Dean senses his-shock?- before the almost unbearable brightness dims slowly, coalescing into a familiar shape.

"Not quite", says Cas. "Hello, Dean."

Dean's feet seem locked to the ground, and Cas doesn't make a move toward him either.

"Hi", Dean breathes out, the air rushing out of his lungs with the word. "Cas."

Cas has switched out the trenchcoat and suit for comfortable looking pair of white linen pants and a loose short tunic of sky blue, that match his eyes, and there's what looks like a week's worth of stubble along his jaw.

"Heaven can't afford a razor?" is what Dean says next, like the idiot he is.

Cas' eyes crinkle. "I've been told it makes me more attractive".

What, who- no- fuck.

Dean's already up in Cas' space before he realizes it.

"Who told you that?" he rasps, and up close he can see the flecks of grey in the stubble, and at Cas' temples, and yes, it made him breathtakingly hot, but damned if Dean was going to— "They were lying, just so you know."

Cas is smiling at him.

"Dean," he says, softly.

Dean reaches out to run a finger against his jaw, going against the grain, ends up with his fingers resting lightly against Cas' cheek, just under his ear.

"You’re a dick" he says, softly, "you know that?"

Cas nods.

"I've been" starts Dean, and then finds he's out of words, takes a shuddery breath instead, furiously trying to blink away the wetness in his eyes.

Cas's hands cup his face, warm and sure, and he draws Dean's forehead down to his.

"I know", Cas says, softly. "But I would do it again if it meant I saved you. I would do it all again."

"I should have told you," whispers Dean, "I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough."

"Dean", says Cas, softly, "You've always been enough."

Above them the sky starts turning a fiery orange as the first of the suns starts to set.

Cas' wings- which he hasn't tucked away- take on a metallic shine, but they feel warm, and safe, just like Dean remembers.

Dean kisses him, softly, once, then again, then again.

"Sweeter than all the honey in the world", he whispers, glad that there's nobody to hear this but Cas.

"You don't even like honey", says Cas, after a moment. "You never let Sam put any in your tea."

Dean draws back.

"You don’t remember", he accuses, genuinely horrified.

Cas' brows draw together in a frown.

"What?"

"You kissed me! And said—well you said what you said! Back in the day when you were all crazy!"

"Which time?"

Dean groans, thumping his head onto Cas' shoulder.

Cas buries his nose in Dean's hair and tucks him closer in his embrace.

"I remember" he confesses, quietly, after a moment. "But I thought you'd want to forget it."

"Cas", Dean, sighing, as he turns to nuzzle the soft, tender skin beneath Cas' ear, placing a small kiss there, as he presses closer. "Let's never talk about this again, ok?"

#spn #supernatural #destiel #dean x cas #gosh i hope this one makes you feel a bit better #<3 <3 <3

[norahastuff]

Damn 5x17 and Cas is some intense stuff...I mean an angel losing what’s left of his faith? Sure he lost faith in heaven a while ago but he never lost faith in God. He needed that, his whole existence was based on devotion and faith to an unknowable absentee father but that was ok because Cas was convinced that his father was righteous. That despite not being around, he cared and wanted what was best for him, and when things were at their lowest he would be there.

Is there anyone who can relate to that? Hmmm...

Dean wasn’t on board with Cas’ quest to find God, at least not at first, but he recognised the same blind loyalty and desperate need in Cas that he’d had when he was looking for his father. When Dean tells Cas “there were times I was looking for my dad when all logic told said that he was dead,”  you know what the logic was? It wasn’t that there was no sign of him or that he was difficult to find, no, rather it was that he didn’t show up when Sam and Dean were alone and broken and needed him. When Dean called him desperate and crying in “Home” pleading for his help. Or when Sam tried to call him when Dean was dying in “Faith.” And yet he still didn’t answer.

Dean sees Cas going through the same thing and encourages Cas to keep looking, to keep the faith. It’s interesting because by encouraging Cas to do so, there’s a tiny part of Dean that begins to have a little faith in Cas’ plan too, a part that only grows the more desperate he gets. By 5x16 he is fully on board the “If God doesn’t help there’s no hope” train with Cas. If I’m remembering right, 5x14 is one of only two occasions he’s ever prayed to God, the other being in 13x01 when he pleads with God with the heartbreaking “we’ve lost everything and now you’re going to bring him back(...)You’re going to bring them all back” prayer. 

But yeah 5x16, Dean and Cas are both equally desperate to find God and Cas is hanging on by this last thread. He alternates between being mad at Dean for making quips about God and Joshua and desperately pleading for them to help. Dean tells him he should come talk to Joshua instead and you can see how it hits him when Cas says “I can’t return to heaven” and Dean is once again reminded that he did this to Cas. He’s the reason Cas can’t return to heaven, he’s the one that convinced him to fall and that it was going to be worth it (kudos to Jensen for the reaction shot in that moment.) 

So they find Joshua. They get their answer. God doesn’t care. He hasn’t for a very long time. And right there it’s over for Dean and Cas. Sam hadn’t pinned all his hopes on this plan in the same way, he’s disappointed of course, but it hasn’t broken him. Drunk Cas in 5x17 is hilarious and yet so profoundly sad (just like endverse Cas.) Sure he quips at Sam about how he finds him irritating and makes jokes about breeding with the mouth of a goat, but really he’s just miserable. Even after he fell from heaven he still saw himself as an angel of the lord. He still had an identity, hope, purpose. All of that has just been stamped out of him, so who is he now? When the pastor asks Cas who he is, he quietly tells him “I’m an angel of the lord” and by God Misha puts so much pain and sadness into that one line, because he’s not. Not anymore. 

Similarly when the pastor once again brings up that Cas is an angel he responds by saying he’s “a poor example of one.”

Which brings us to Cas and Dean’s conversation outside the motel in 5x17. Dean sees what Cas is going through and recognises the feelings all too well. He’s a big expert on deadbeat dads after all. For the first time since he found out that his father didn’t care, Cas looks for hope, for something to cling to. “How do you manage it?” he asks Dean. Oh Cas...he doesn’t. He hasn’t figured out how to handle it. Not with John, not with God, Dean can commiserate with Cas but he doesn’t have a solution. All he knows is to keep fighting, which is what he tells Cas when he deflects the question, they can kill the whore of babylon, they can wrack up another small victory. 

It’s a lie though. Dean doesn’t believe it. He’s already done and he doesn’t see the point in fighting anymore and when Dean decides to say yes to Michael, Cas loses the last thing he had any faith in, the last person that he had any connection to and boy does he take that personally. I already talked about how in 5x18 Cas feels so betrayed by Dean, but it’s also worth noting how in that fight in the alley Cas doesn’t talk about saving the world and Dean’s role in that, no instead it’s about them and their relationship:

“I rebelled for this? So that you could surrender to them. I gave everything for you and this is what you give to me.”

Is it any wonder over the course of the show their faith just gets more and more tangled up in each other? What they’ve done for each other, what they owe to each other, what they need from each other, it evolves into something very different over the years, but it’s built on this foundation of their complicated relationship with faith and knowing and truly seeing the other, all of which are things that have been there from the beginning.

#spn rewatch #my spn thoughts #destiel #spn #5x03 #5x16 #5x17 #5x18 #spn meta #i have faith

[according-to-the-laura]

StackedNatural Day 148: 4x18

StackedNatural Masterpost: [x]

April 2, 2022

4x18: The Monster at the End of This Book

Written by: Julie Siege

Directed by: Mike Rohl

Original air date: April 2, 2009

Plot Synopsis:

An author has been writing books about Sam and Dean since 2005. Sam and Dean try to figure out how he knows so much about them.

Features:

Carver Edlund’s Supernatural books, the origins of Sam girls and Dean girls, God before He was God, or before we knew He was God, Chuck as Prophet, the Winchester Gospel, an offer from Lilith.

My Thoughts:

Watching this episode in retrospect of the series finale is honestly awesome. Somehow they’ve created the most perfect piece of accidental foreshadowing of Chuck as the final antagonist. Even the episode title agrees!

I’m a big proponent of the “Chuck was God all along” theory (versus the “Chuck is a vessel for God, who takes over at the end of s5”), mainly because it makes episodes like this so much more meaningful in the context of the entire series. Sam is so stubborn and stupid in this episode, and that’s because Chuck is writing him that way, and that’s because God wants this to end in brother vs brother with Sam as the antagonist. God tells him straight to his face that he’s an unsympathetic protagonist.

Meanwhile, Cas has another taste of rebellion in hinting to Dean at a solution to the problem that isn’t in the book, and Chuck says “What are you doing here? I didn’t write this.” Cas exists outside the narrative the moment he starts considering rebellion, even when he’s doing it because he (rightly) thinks that the angels aren’t taking orders from God anymore. Also, love the scene with Dean praying by the vending machine, love looking at it and thinking that Cas was already in love at this point, he just didn’t know it yet.

I love the metaness of this series and this episode is a great early example of it. Chuck saying that it’s douchey to write yourself into the story when there’s literally a character called Robert Singer and Chuck’s pen name is Carver Edlund. Lilith is telling the truth about dying at the end of the story (which she’ll do twice, fyi), but she’s manipulating Sam into causing it.

Just the arrival of the archangel at the end of the episode is awe-inspiring. It makes the Lucifer v Michael fight of season 13 look extremely pathetic, though.

Notable Lines:

“Sam and Dean are fictional characters. I made them up! They're not real!”

“Well, there's only one explanation. Obviously, I'm a god.”

“I am so sorry. I mean, horror is one thing, but to be forced to live bad writing…”

“I'm praying, okay? Come on. Please.” “Prayer is a sign of faith.”

“Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're heaven's most terrifying weapon.”

“Self-sacrifice is the Winchester way, isn't it?”

Laura’s (completely subjective) Episode Rating: 9.9

IMdB Rating: 9.3

In Conclusion: Fully obsessed with season 4 in retrospect.

<< Previous Day  |  Next Day >>

#Stackednatural #supernatural #spn #4x18 #The Monster at the End of This Book #also when chuck said ‘did phil put you up to this’ #and meg and i made significant eye contact re:dta

[fanfic-corner]

Destiel

It’s my birthday tomorrow, and to celebrate, I’ve compiled a list of my favourite fics! I’ve read a lot of Destiel fics over the past year, but these are the ones that have stuck with me the most. I’ve not put as much detail in as I usually do because otherwise we would be here forever, but I am begging you to read these fics. They’re all amazing.

Kiss You When It’s Dangerous by zoemathemata (@zoemathemata) on AO3. (57,593 words).

It’s adorable. The plot is fabulous. It’s my all time favourite fic. Please, I am begging you, just read it.

Stand By Me by whelvenwings (@whelvenwings) on AO3. (31,252 words).

The first Destiel fic I ever read, and it’s managed to stay with me this whole time.

Angel’s Wild by LimonadeGaby and riseoftefallenone on AO3. (389,271 words).

The pining is unbearable but it’s all worth it in the end. The ultimate slow burn.

The Tea is Decaf by mnwood (@tomhardysteeth) on AO3. (3,673 words).

Cas is adorable. Eileen is adorable. Everyone is adorable.

a turn of the earth by microcomets on AO3. (95,274 words).

Of course I’ll rec the ultimate John Winchester bashing fic. The plot is so amazing and it is written excellently.

the inexhaustible silence of houses by Askance on AO3. (31,820 words).

This was beautifully written, made me cry, and the ending haunts me to this day.

Forget-Me-Not Blues by noangelsinthegarrison (@aaziraphales) on AO3. (68,689 words).

Jesus Christ, I have not read another fic where these two are such blatant idiots. That being said... I love it. Everything about it is amazing.

the cost of a thing by quiettewandering (@wanderingcas) on AO3. (74,198 words).

So cute! All the angst! My all time favourite trope and absolutely the best take on it!

In All Your Borrowed Finery by vanishingact (@vanishingactblog) on AO3. (67,950 words).

Okay this is adorable and you can’t convince me otherwise. Every time I read a fic with Gabriel in, I miss him just a bit more.

Down Like Water by museaway (@museaway) on AO3. (14,512 words).

I reread this occasionally just to feel something. I literally had to check if I misread the tags like 3 times and I cry every. single. time.

Partnered by K_K_TiBal (@thebloggerbloggerfun) on AO3. (28,112 words).

This is so fucking cute. The artwork is gorgeous. And, now I ship Jody and Donna. All round win.

Black Swans by omphalos and Wolfling on AO3. (66,455 words).

Okay so maybe this is more Sabriel than Destiel, but it was written amazingly and the plot was phenomenal!

this is a good thing, dean (prayer is a sign of faith) by cascountsdeansfreckles on AO3. (529 words).

The one time Cas can’t hear his prayers... I had to include a 15x18 fic in here somewhere, and this one set me off.

Purgatory, director’s cut by runsinthefamily on AO3. (23,722 words).

This was beautiful. It felt hypnotic, almost like poetry, and I absolutely cried at the end.

The House on the Ocean Road by coffeeandcas (@coffeeandcas) on AO3. (111,351 words).

This was gorgeous! Dean and Cas as parents was adorable, and Jimmy was such a fucking icon I don’t even know where to start. Also, not the weirdest past Cas ship I’ve ever seen (but it’s up there).

Broadway Musical by Griftings on AO3. (12,453 words).

The King and Queen of the crack fics. I adore the ‘did you fuck the Michael sword’ vibes and the formatting just makes everything so much funnier.

How Many Slams In An Old Screen Door [podfic] by Tenoko1 (@tenoko1) on AO3. (1hr 50mins).

Before we were shoved back into lockdown, I used to listen to podfics on the way to/from school, and this has to be my all time favourite so far. The asexual representation was fantastic, the plot was hilarious, and (as always) it was read beautifully.

When Charlie Met Cas by riseofthefallenone on AO3. (24,666 words).

This has to be thee funniest fic ever written. I don’t make the rules.

Boneless Wings by PallasPerilous (@pallasperilous) on AO3. (4,333 words).

The art is gorgeous (I’d literally just finished watching Pan’s Labyrinth which was terrifying) and it was such a brilliant parody of all the other wing fics out there (not that I don’t love them too!)

Grace by july_19th_club (@july-19th-club) on AO3. (5,164 words).

This was gorgeous and now I really want to see it filmed! It is so much better than the ending we got. I would say the author should work for them, but... frankly, they deserve better.

It Started With a Fanfic Competition by Tenoko1 (@tenoko1) on AO3. (124,487 words).

This was written beautifully. It was so wholesome, not afraid to call the characters out on their usual bullshit, and has genuinely more character development than the entire 15 year long show.

Serendipity by whelvenwings (@whelvenwings) on AO3. (23,891 words).

I absolutely adored every character in this (and thoroughly enjoyed guessing who was going to show up next!) and the plot was fabulous!

The Mute!Cas ‘verse by Princess_Aleera on AO3. (148,656 words).

Oh man. I wasn’t sure at first, but this is now maybe my favourite universe out there. The fluff was unbelievably fluffy, the angst was quality pain, and that’s without mentioning the fact the end had me ugly sobbing. On Christmas Eve.

When Dinosaurs Ruled The Earth by Mishafied on AO3. (68,926 words).

Oh my lord, what about this isn’t amazing? The casting was fabulous, the amount of research was obvious and really paid off, and I mean... Jurassic Park AU! It made me desperate to rewatch the films, too.

The Passion of the Christ (and his angelic ex-boyfriend) by Bzzee (@clarafordahwin) on AO3. (4,972 words).

I am going straight to Hell, and it is because of this fic right here. That being said, this is top quality crack and I’ve sent it to everyone I know just for the trip (two of them had never watched SPN. One asked me if Jesus was actually in it).

You Can Keep Holding On by NorthernSparrow on AO3. (352,388 words).

I won’t spoil it, but one of the best plot twists of all time! The exploration of Dean & Cas’ relationship, the detail put into the lore, the foreshadowing... amazing.

Apres by imogenbynight (@imogenbynight) on AO3. (24,045 words).

This was so adorable - Cas and Dean deserved a holiday in France!

I hope you enjoyed them! I’ve really been struck - especially over quarantine - with appreciation for all the writers out there who are giving us this professional quality content for free. I genuinely don’t know what I’d do without you, which is why I’ve done my best to hunt you down and tag you so you can take my love! There are a hundred other fics that I could have included on here as well, or ones that I’ve read since making this list. Thank you all so much for giving us these wonderful stories!

#fic rec #favourite fics #destiel #supernatural #sabriel #spn #fave

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. CII

It was a love story from the very beginning.

The Bad Joke and The Scoobynatural

(13x14/13x15)

Hello there!!! This time I'm gonna talk about one of the most OOC episodes ever and one of our favs episodes Scoobynatural. I put them together bc one was so bad I needed some fresh air. Hehehehe.

Let's start!

So OOC that hurts...

Episode 13x15 "A Most Holly Man" was written by Dabb but also by Robert Singer.

This episode was odd, with easy bad jokes, and OOC. It also had Wincest subtext, and it was very messy.

If you rewatch the entire season, this episode seems to be out of context. If they've wouldn't put the search for the element they needed for the spell, it could have been passed as an episode from another show.

I could write more criticism, but let's just talk about little pieces of dialogue that worked as clues, I'm very sure it were put by Dabb (even if I dislike his writing) more than Singer.

The three elements the gangsters wanted to get were:

Incense: Is used by christian rituals to elevate prayers and gifts from the parishioners to God. This could be speaking of Chuck coming in the next season.

Chalice: The chalice represents sacrifice for christianity. The Holt Blood of Jesus Christ that have his life for humanity. So, is talking about a future huge sacrifice. It could be taken for Dean and his Mal'ak box or Castiel in 15x18.

Skull: it's related to death, and it could be speaking of Mary Winchester death in season 14.

Another little take from this episode was this little piece of dialogue:

MARGARET: Oh, don’t thank me yet. Greenstreet has all the trappings of a gentleman, but… I would advise caution.

Okay subtle, but not that much. The last name is a combination of two words GREEN and STREET, it's obviously related to Dean, and the quote after this 'has all the trappings is a gentleman, but... I would advise caution." It's obviously talking about AUMichael!Dean.

A brief comment about the Wincest subtext... We had Sam flirting with Margaret and Dean showing signs of jealousy, it could be taken as annoyance, but, because is Singer involved, I would say it was intentionally written to be Wincest subtext. And after this we had Dean flirting... Super out of character, with a brunette... With a lame excuse... Unnecessary. But it worked to make this time Sam the jealous one. Connecting the drops, my dears...

Dean has faith again and the distracting rubbing lips...

In this episode we can also rescue another good points as Dean declaring he has faith. Remember at the beginning of the season he was lost and faithless, I ask myself what could happen to make Dean to recover his faith???

Oh yes, Cas is back.

Then the rubbing lips... We had the same gesture from Cas in the previous episode, so, I wrote two entire metas about how Dabb team used the hands to show foreshadow. So I truly thought Dean and Cas would kiss... Hehehehe. It could fit perfectly, but nah.

This episode also talked about how a priest, a righteous, a saint man, was trying to get the most precious thing for his community.

Trying to get back the most important thing he had, willing to make any sacrifice for it, it's the same would lead Dean to say 'yes' to Michael. When Lucifer kidnaps Sam and Jack.

(This could be just nice because family, and because Dean raised Sam, so Sam represents a son and such, but, because is Singer... Wincest again.)

Another piece of dialogue I found is the following...

FATHER LUCCA: (...)And what your brother’s doing, it’s a good thing.

DEAN: Yeah, or a stupid thing.

FATHER LUCCA: Or both. Many times, they can be the same.

This is telling Castiel's name, Because Dean is always asking him not to do stupid things.

Another foreshadow was Father Lucca talking about Lying is wrong, is a sin. This was the preamble to one of the most revealing episode that will bring Chuck back. The episode in which Jack erase the ability of telling lies in the whole world population.

Dean's cave meaning and visual narrative.

Episode 13x16 was full of symbolism, and is one of my fav episodes.

At first, we had Dean fighting against a huge green dinosaur, practically a monster in green. Just like the Squirrel/Godzilla in one t-shirt we'll see in episode 14x04, is representing DEAN, his inner photography of himself. He sees himself as a monster.

Everytime we see SCOOBY-DOO in Supernatural, it's related to Dean's innocence and purity. Those qualities on him will be the key to release him from his emotional prison in season 14.

Visual Narrative in Dean's cave

Let's talk about the Dean's cave. When Dean says to Sam "Be like Elsa, let it be," he's referring here to the most deepest feelings and fears. Elsa released what she had tried to repress her entire life, her powers. And once she accepted what she really was, she was really free.

This will happen to Dean too, the process had just started. Now that he got Cas back, and now that deep inside he had accepted he can't live without the angel, he will slowly be able to embrace his bisexuality, to accept who he really is. The climax of this metamorphosis it's gonna be describer through the whole season 14. It's the birth of Healing!Dean.

Dean's cave represents that. First of all I want you to know that the Dean's cave had been made to watch movies with Castiel. It's subtextually displayed by the location of the two couches and the color of the lights in front of them: RED AND BLUE. Those are Dean and Castiel's places. That place had been built to share time with his angel.

Gif credit @out-in-the-open

Fred and Daphne were Dean's bisexuality representation.

Mostly than Dean having a crush over the two characters (openly with Daphne and repressed over Fred) both characters were representing Dean's bisexuality (just like Pamela and himself in Rocky's bar and his friend and the waitress in 15x07).

When they had to team up (just like in 14x04) we had Sam and Vilma represented the insight, the intelligence. (Just like Sam and Sam). Castiel pairing up with Yaggy and Scooby, the innocence and the talking dog, the most precious thing for Dean. (Remember Dean would take a bullet for that dog, that's why Cas was compared several times in season 12 with a dog, and that's why Dean follows him anywhere to keep him safe after suffering his lost).

Gif set credit @gentleman-demon

Finally, the bisexual team Dean with Fred and Daphne. In one opportunity Dean asks Daphne what does she sees in a man. Without mentioning she loves ascots, what this symbolically represents is Dean asking to his female side what she really likes to see in man. And we have Fred related to blue color, as a switch mirror with Castiel. Also because Daphne describes the perfect man as STRONG AND HONEST. Which are characteristics related to Castiel.

Castiel's entrance a la 4x01 and the dinosaur in love

Castiel enters in the mansion the same way he did in 4x01, stormy, mysteriously, and bright.

Immediately after his entrance, we had this weird dialogue...

DEAN: It's a book we're writing. Yeah, about...killer stuffed dinosaurs. It's called...

CASTIEL: "The Killer Stuffed Dinosaur in Love."

FRED: Huh. Great title.

SCOOBY: Yeah. Great title.

"It's a book we are writing " this is very meaningful Because, the book they're writing despite the one Chuck is writing, is Team Free Will, but... We are talking about DESTIEL. Dean and Cas are writing their own story... Why? Because when they mention the title of that book is... The KILLER (Do you remember REGARDING DEAN? another brief appearence of Scooby Doo and Dean's innocence? In which Rowena told him he was a killer? So yes, Dean sees himself as a killer, that's why the image of a monster, a green DINOSAUR, and huge Godzilla Squirrel... But this KILLER GREEN DINOSAUR has a very important characteristic HE IS IN LOVE. DEAN IS IN LOVE, as he confessed in 14x12.

Do I have to explain how writers connect d Castiel's first entrance in 4x01 with this book they're writing as they go? The book is named DESTIEL.

Jealous!Castiel and the little scared ghost boy

I loved the scene in which Daphne freshly confesses Dean grabbed the ghost by the thigh and immediately Cas shows his jealousy over that.

Gif set credit @tearsofgrace

But There's another almost at the end of the episode in which Dean mentions his affair with the Cartwright Twins and Cas asks about that, and Dean's face is priceless. Because if CAS would just represent a friend to him, he were absolutely explaining to him what happened with those twins, but he didn't. Why? Because Castiel is not just a friend. Castiel is Dean's love interest. So... Better not to talk about it.

Gif set credit @sssssssim

But let's jump over the symbolism of the trapped child ghost.

BOY: I'm not. I never wanted to hurt anyone. But the bad man, he makes me.

CASTIEL: The bad man?

BOY: His name is Jay.

I want to point here we are inside of Dean's head as you've noticed so far, so... Velma is Dean's intelligence and reason, and is linked with Sam (just like in episode 14x04 in which we had the scooby-doo box opening the locked door). Yaggy and Scooby are the innocence and love, part of Dean and linked to Castiel. And Daphne and Fred are Dean's bisexuality. But There's another huge character inside of him THE MONSTER. The monster, the one he has to defeat, is represented by JOHN WINCHESTER'S TOXIC HERITAGE AND AUMICHAEL, they're part of his toxicity, his rage, his violence. The little ghost here is all the good inside of Dean, his childhood, his innocence, but the bad man who obligates him to kill, it's his inner monster. So this is a war between TOXIC!DEAN and HEALING!DEAN as we will see in season 14.

BOY: When I died, my soul was tied to a pocketknife. My dad gave it to me. It meant everything. When Jay found me, he used me to...Sometimes, I get so angry I break things, hurt people.

John Winchester's toxic heritage implies the GUILT. So, Dean's soul is tied to that GUILT. Jay represents AUMichael here, when AUMichael finds this tool, the guilt, he uses it against Dean to control him. The boy says he gets angry, he breaks things and hurts people. He's describing perfectly Dean's toxicity. His violence. We will see it in this season but also, at the end of season 14.

To Conclude:

In episode 13x15 we had a very OOC bad episode, but with a few clues for foreshadows.

Episode 13x16 was a travel through Dean's innocence, inner thoughts and repressed feelings. It's a preamble to Healing!Dean season and how Dean will be able to break free from his emotional prison, defeating his inner monster.

Hope you liked this meta, see you in the next one!

Tagging @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weird-dorky-little-d @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @authorsararayne @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha

@destielle @spnsmile @shippsblog @robot-feels @superlock-in-the-tardis @superduckbatrebel @2musiclover2 @madronasky @anon-non2 @cea1996 @lisafu02 @asphodelesauvage @destiels-canonahhhhhhhhhh

If you want to be added or removed from this list just let me know.

If you wanna read the previous metas from season 13 here you have the links...

Vol. XCIII, XCIV, XCV, XCVI, XCVII, XCVIII, XCIX, C, CI.

Buenos Aires, February 28 2020, 2:23 PM

#destiel chronicles #destiel #destiel meta #Supernatural meta #season 13 meta #13x15 meta #13x16 meta #Scoobynatural #Scoobynatural meta #Castiel #Dean is bi #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester

[shakspeare]

faith is the ache

→ dean/cas fic → circa season four. it’s the emo soldier of god for me.  → this is 90% kink y’all, most definitely rated r.  → ao3 link here if you’d rather read there → first time destiel writer the renaissance rly hit hard

Cas and Dean’s first kiss is a battlefield kiss.

It’s raw and desperate and bloody, torn from Cas’s lips like salvation, a prayer. Dean’s never been a praying man, but if this is faith, he’s a goddamn saint. He can taste blood on Cas’s tongue, feel Cas’s breath through his ribs, rushed and angry and brutal.

This is faith.

Faith is the way his fingers feel like they’re about to break. Faith is the way he’s holding Cas to him the same way he’d hold onto his gun. Faith is Cas’s eyelashes, dark and wet, ghosting against his cheek. Faith is every stolen breath and broken bone, every stabbing pain, every gasp, every tear, every loss.

Faith is the ache.

The world burns red through his eyelids; he opens his eyes. Releases his angel.

“Sam!” he roars, spinning on his heel, staring into the fray. The woodland’s half on fire, some demon coughing up its guts at his feet. He slams his heel down on its throat, scanning the tree line.

“Sam!”

“Let’s move!” Sam’s spat out of the forest like a rocket, tearing over the waste ground between them. Dean doesn’t need telling twice. He hauls Cas to his feet and they run.

The forest blurs past them in shadow and ash. The night’s dark; freakishly so. No stars. A volley of sparks explodes in the air above their heads; they flinch, keep running. Things had gone wrong, gone very badly wrong. Dean stumbles on the broken earth, curses under his breath. It was a trap, that should’ve been obvious. He was off his game.

“Dean?” The angel’s voice is curious, not yet practised in concern. Dean jerks his head; keep moving.

“I’m fine,” he barks, and Cas turns, keeps going.

“Here!” Sam’s voice comes low through the trees, and Dean gives a sigh of relief. He thought they’d overshot by a mile, but the Impala is just visible in the darkness. Least something’s gone to plan. His heart’s hammering against his ribs and something feels really wrong there. Broken, he’s guessing. He drops into the driver’s seat, fumbles for the keys. Half a second to breathe, and then he’s gunning baby’s engine to freaking Timbuktu. He reaches out to yank the door shut, but Cas is there, suddenly, holding it still. He stares down at Dean, eyes wide, hair going every which way.

“I’ll lead them off,” he says, and his voice is rough and low. “I doubt we will go undisturbed.”

Dean blinks, Cas takes a step back—

“Wait, Cas!”

He tilts his head, frowns at Dean. Dean gives himself a shake; man, he’s losing it.

“Get in the car.” The angel looks at him almost pityingly.

“No, thank you. I’m much faster out of it.”

“I’m not offering you a lift, you goddamn hippie,” There’s something moving in the trees. He slides the key into the ignition, keeps his voice low.

“You going off alone, that’s exactly what they’ll be expecting.” Castiel hesitates, still staring at him.

“Get in the damn car!”

Cas slides into the backseat just as he guns the engine and the angels break the clearing; the Impala snarls and jerks forward over the rough earth, spraying up dirt and stone in her wake, and if he said that didn’t satisfy him to hell, he’d be lying. He yanks the steering wheel hard left, spinning them out onto the freeway, and in 30 seconds he’s put miles between them and their heavenly little tete a tete. Cars flicker past either side of them, and Dean’s eyes flick up to the rearview. Cas’s baby blues are fixed firmly on the road ahead, that little frown quirking his brow.

“So it was a trap,” Sam grimaces, running a finger down the gash in his arm.

“Woah, dude!” Dean exclaims. “Upholstery, blood; blood, upholstery!” Sam ignores him, reaching out a bloody finger and daubing some hokey symbol on the passenger side window.

“Angel proofing, dumb-ass. They won’t be able to find us.”

Angel proofing. Right. Dean grumbles under his breath. It’s not the worst idea in the world. The pain in his ribs flares and he winces.

Yeah, they need some off-radar time.

“Check the map,” he nods at the roadmap on the floor at Sam’s feet. “Find us somewhere to crash. My four hours is calling my name.” His eyes flick back up to the rearview. No reason why.

***

The nearest motel’s about an hour’s drive. Sam falls asleep in his seat; Dean flicks on the radio. Adrenaline’s coursing through him like a freight train; it always does, after a hunt. He flexes his fingers against the wheel, shifts in his seat. Feels good. Feels strong.

His lips are burning.

“You ok?” The words come out a little gruffer than he’d intended. He clears his throat, keeps his eyes fixed on the road. It’s just the polite thing to do. Ask. For a minute he thinks Cas might’ve angel-ed out, but then—

“I am uninjured.” Right. “Great.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, itching to do… something. He needs a drink. A sleazy bar. Pounding music.

“But I… feel strange.”

He can’t help it; he glances up at Cas’s reflection. Cas is gazing out at the night, frowning.

“Strange how?”

“I should have known it was a trap,” Cas murmurs. “There were warning signs. I failed to notice them. I failed to keep you safe.”

“Guilt. That’s called guilt, Cas.”

Cas sighs.

“It’s not a big deal, no one got hurt.” He ignores the stabbing pain in his side; he’s had worse. “Everyone make mistakes. It’s uh, human.”

Cas’s searching gaze meets his and he swallows, looks quickly back to the road. Jesus. A scattergun of images flicker past in his mind’s eye; Cas, bright-eyed, burning, in the split second before he kissed him; Cas, in the barn, sparks exploding in the air around him, hair lit up like some dollar store invocation of Jesus Christ; and another, something he’s not sure he’s ready to think about yet; Cas, with bruised lips, shirt collar open and staring at him like he’s seeing for the first time.

Yeah, he’s itching to do something, alright.

“Dean.”

He jerks out of his reverie, slides the steering wheel left a little, keeps them straight. Eyes on the road. Get it together. Right. He shifts a little in his seat, pretends like Cas’s gaze isn’t burning a hole in the back of his neck. His cock twitches in his jeans.

“Alright!” He clears his throat, reaches over to the radio. “If you’re gonna slum it on earth with the rest of us, you gotta live the whole experience. Guilt, shame, the whole nine yards. Now this,” he raises his voice over House of the Rising Sun, “this is a whole experience of it’s own.”

Cas frowns a little. Dean sighs, leans back in his seat. Resists the urge to shift his hips, let the denim friction graze his dick. Jesus Christ, there’s something in the air. He risks a glance at Cas again; he’s gazing out his window now, thank god, watching headlights flicker past.

Alright. It’s not like he hasn’t been with men before. It’s no big deal, right? Except — and this is the kicker — sucking some trucker off for twenty dollars is pretty fucking different. Isn’t it? His heart skips a little in his chest, imagines Cas looking down at him, Cas running deft fingers through his hair. Yeah, it’s different. Different like, there’s a part of him that wants to pull the car over and get on his knees right now. He remembers the heat of Cas pressing against his chest, rough and aching; remembers the sting of his angel blade, caught between them and digging into his side.

Is Cas thinking about it? Do angels get turned on?

He’s not even sure why he did it, why he stepped over the angel Cas had just gutted and wrapped his fist in Cas’s shirt. He remembers the last time he had sex; in that strip joint with some hooker — he’d barely started railing her when all hell broke loose and he and Cas had to book it out the back. Does this feel like that? His dick twitches at the memory; the chick buck naked and spreading her legs, widening her come-fuck-me eyes. He frowns, shifts, remembers the puzzled expression on Cas’s face before he kissed him.

Nah, this is different. He doesn’t know why — the chick was hot, Cas is hot, his dick’s sure as hell into both. But it is. It is different.

Cas is still silent in the backseat. What’s he thinking about? I feel strange. Probably still grappling with his newfound guilt, whatever that feels like for an angel. I failed to keep you safe. Dean snorts. Right. Safe. When has anyone ever worried about his safety before? He barely worries about it himself. His mind fritzes for a hot second; faceless men in truck stop bathrooms; this week’s monster, teeth bared and barrelling out of the darkness; dad, waking him up at three in the morning and thrusting a sawn-off into his hands.

Safe doesn’t figure. It just doesn’t. And if he slammed on the brakes and insisted the angel in the backseat fuck him in the next lay-by, there’d be nothing safe about that either. He shifts, presses his dick against the rough fabric of his jeans. A single streetlamp bursts overhead as they fly beneath it, and in the shower of sparks, he sees Cas, bright blue eyes, one hand gripping the back of Dean’s neck like he owns him.

They make it to the motel somewhere round two in the morning. Seeing Cas properly for the first time since he kissed him is a freaking test. It starts to rain as they haul their bags out the trunk, and Cas has done nothing to fix his shirt, where Dean had wrapped his fingers in his collar and claimed him just hours before. He looks a goddamn mess. Dean swallows, slams the car door, wonders if there’s a bar anywhere nearby. Cas maintains his angelic silence as they cross the lot, stumble into the motel reception. Sam stays awake just long enough to check in, scrawl a bunch of sigils on the window, and then collapse on his twin bed, shoes on, dead to the world.

Dean slings his duffel onto the vacant bed. He’d gotten a twin room on autopilot, hadn’t even thought about it. Now it feels weird. He clears his throat, gives himself a shake. Tries to ignore the ache in his throat. God, he needs a drink. Or something.

Cas is stood at the window, gazing out at the blinking neon sign. White Rose Motel.

“Uh, Cas— ” Cas turns, looks at him expectantly. “What are you, uh—”

He was going to ask what Cas was gonna do all night, going to ask if he wanted his own room, hell, maybe angels like their privacy, he doesn’t know. But Cas is gazing at him, throat exposed, and Christ, he doesn’t remember the last time he wanted to fuck someone this badly. Dean glances at Sammy, passed out on the bed, and clears his throat.

“Outside?”

Cas narrows his eyes a fraction, and then nods, the tiniest movement. He closes the space between them, and when he presses his hand to Dean’s shoulder, Dean’s knees almost give way.

***

The air vanishes, twists; rain glitters on the sidewalk; the night fills Dean’s lungs, and he can’t wait, can’t wait another goddamn second. His fists find Cas’s shirt and he seizes him, pulls him close; his head collides with the wall behind him; the pain in his ribs flares like an open wound, and he doesn’t give a damn, doesn’t give a damn about anything. He’s done thinking. Sex is sex, and he’s a freaking cowboy. He needs this.

He can taste Cas’s blood on his tongue, feel Cas's lips against his, rough and punishing and claiming. Mine, mine, mine, and oh god, he wants to die here. Suddenly, Cas’s hand locks onto his wrist like a vice, and he steps back; Dean’s eyes snap up to meet his; strange, blue—

There are unspoken questions in Cas’s eyes, in the persistent frown that quirks his brow. His grip tightens on Dean’s wrist, and he presses Dean back against the wall; he can feel the damp coming through his shirt, feel the rain, soft, on his forehead. Dean can’t remember the last time he was this turned on; he doesn’t want to stop, to think, he just wants Cas—

“Cas, please—” It falls unbidden from his lips, and in the silent seconds that follow it feels like heresy. He’s hard as hell, and the angel at his throat is looking at him like he wants to tear him apart, and god, if that doesn’t turn him on more. Dean finds his voice, chokes out a word.

“Please.”

Cas’s fingers wrap around Dean’s throat, and he can’t tell if he’s about to kiss him, or kill him, or both—

Then Cas kisses him and he moans; a prayer that’s snuffed out by the press of Cas’s mouth against his own and suddenly he’s desperate, starving; his hands find the back of Castiel’s neck and he holds him to him, panting, pressing into Cas’s kiss like he wants to die on the altar of his lips. He gasps into Cas’s mouth, inhaling liquor and salt and copper. Cas shifts against him, open palm against his chest and—

The pain in his ribs flares suddenly, sharp and hot.

“You lied,” Cas whispers. “You’re hurt.”

Dean nods, doesn’t know how he manages it, but he does.

“Ah— yeah. It’s nothing. It’s nothing, Cas.”

He doesn’t want this to be over, he can’t have this be over, not yet. Cas passes a hand over his ribs, gazing at Dean like he’s lost in thought. Dean winces as his hand slides across the break; he can’t help it. Cas’s eyes flicker silver.

“You should let me heal it.”

“Right. Yes. Okay, Cas. Heal it, please— and then—”

“Pray to me,” Cas murmurs.

“Wh— what?” 

His eyes are gleaming, hair lit up by the street-lamps, glittering with the fallen rain. He looks fucking otherworldly, divine. He loosens his grip on Dean’s throat, and suddenly he’s full of something Dean doesn’t recognise. All he knows is that he craves it, needs it, dark and bright and strong and holy.

When he falls to his knees, it doesn’t feel anything other than right. He doesn’t question it, doesn’t think. When Cas runs his fingers through his hair, tilts his chin up to the sky, the ache in his chest subsides. The rain continues to fall, and the cold is creeping into his bones, but he doesn’t care. This is different.

He prays. He wants to. He wants Cas to be his, and he wants to be Cas’s, forever. Cas whispers to him softly, voice almost lost in this hiss of the falling rain. He lets him drag his tongue over his cock, lets him taste it, kiss it, and then — once he’s asked and begged and prayed a hundred times — Cas answers his prayer, thrusts his cock between his lips. He tastes like ichor and iron and wine and his fingers wind a little tighter in Dean’s hair. Dean’s never wanted to please someone this badly in his goddamn life. He’s good at sucking cock, he knows he is, but for Cas, he wants to be better than good. He wants Cas to need him, to know him, to never leave him. He runs his tongue down the length of Cas’s cock, wraps his hand around the base. He drags his tongue over the head, slow and rough and teasing. He keeps his eyes on Cas’s. When his cock hits the back of his throat, Dean feels like he’s about to fucking ascend. When Cas pulls him to his feet it feels like rapture. His legs are shaking; he all but collapses against him, his angel, and then Cas’s lips find his and Cas holds him up, pressing softer kisses on him now, sweet and deft and silent.

“Good boy,” he murmurs, and Dean feels lightheaded.

“Yeah?” he manages to breathe, in between Cas’s soft, persistent kisses.

“Yes,” Cas murmurs simply. “That was good,” and Jesus Christ, why does hearing that drive him crazy? Cas’s hand finds the tear in Dean’s ribs, palm like an open flower, and there’s a moment, warmth, and the pain is gone. Dean moans into Cas’s kiss, keening, presses his hips against him. For a moment Cas pulls back; Dean’s left breathless, aching, Cas’s fingers tracing the line of his jaw. Then the air around them rents itself in two, and suddenly Cas’s lips are on him again, but the world is upside down; the wall is gone; the air is closer, drier—

He tries to right himself, get purchase, and realises he’s flat out, sheets beneath his head. Cas’s had is still at his jaw, gentle, kind, and he realises with a lurch that the angel is fucking straddling him. He gasps, pressing up into Cas’s kiss so hard he can feel the bruise it’s going to leave on his lips.

“Where—” he manages to breathe out, the last vestige of his dignity wondering where exactly they are, though right now he’s so turned on he’d gladly beg Cas to fuck him in front of a freaking bar full of people — his dick twitches in his pants at that thought and he thinks he notices Cas’s eyes darken — that’s a thought to explore at a later date —

“An unoccupied room. This motel is not popular,” Cas murmurs, his lips grazing the hollow of Dean’s throat. His hands find Dean’s, loosening his grip on him, and Dean whines in protest; he wants to pull him closer, find some goddamn friction, never let go.

“Quiet,” Cas murmurs. His hands slide along Dean’s wrists, guide them up over his head, press them into the mattress, and Dean’s breath comes out in a little stutter. Cas blinks at him with those fucking weird, cosmic eyes, and then he’s closer still, pressing little butterfly kisses to his neck. Dean tilts his head back to the stars and gasps. The ache in his chest feels like holy fire, and he forgets everything — god, girls, demons, devils. All he can be sure of are the hands on his wrists, the mouth at his throat, the blood on his tongue, the split in his lip.

“Dean,” Cas’s voice vibrates, soft, just by his ear. A shiver runs down his spine; his eyes flutter shut.

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure?” Cas’s weight shifts slightly; Dean opens his eyes.

Cas’s eyes are bright in the shadows; he’s tossed his coat aside. There’s still blood on his shirt, staining the white, patterning his throat. He can see it when Cas looks away, lifts his chin and gazes across the room He shifts beneath him, a little, til his cock is pressing into Cas’s thigh.

“What?”

“Are you sure?” Cas’s gaze meets his, and there’s no challenge, no threat. Dean’s stomach flips over when he recognises the glimmer in his eyes. There’s no challenge because it’s all possession. Quiet, unyielding, simple. As if it’s all there is.

He swallows. “Yes. I’m sure.”

There’s a split second where Cas doesn’t move, only blinks at him, and he grinds his hips up into Cas in frustration, voice coming out in a whine—

“Please.”

And then Cas’s kissing him like he’s about to die. The press of his body against Dean’s is like a blessing, something otherworldly and dangerous and close to god. Dean can’t think, can’t breathe, can only arch up into the angel at his throat and pray, a broken string of words and sounds and promises that tumble from his lips without thought. When Cas lets go his wrists, his hands tangle in Cas’s hair, trace the curve of his jaw, the hollow of his throat. Cas’s shirt is gone, and he jerks his own off over his head, rough and careless, and when Cas’s palm presses against the brand on his shoulder like it’s a prayer, a rite, some secret sacred invocation that only they know, only they will ever know, Dean loses his mind, desperate, aching—

Cas draws back for a split second. His hair is tousled, his skin like marble in the half light. Dean’s heart is hammering like it’s going to leap out of his chest; he gasps, breathes, collapses back onto the bed.

“Cas,” he whispers, hands restless, reaching. “Come back, come back, please.”

He feels Cas’s weight shift, move, and when he opens his eyes Cas is beside him, eyelashes ghosting against his cheek. His lips press softly against Dean’s jaw, just below his ear, and suddenly Dean’s eyes are wet, and he has no idea why. His hands find his belt; he slips free of his jeans, his pants. He knows what he wants, and he doesn’t want to stop, to think. The air is warm against his naked skin but he feels vulnerable, strange; he rolls towards Cas, shields himself against his body.

Cas catches his chin with the pad of his thumb; soft, tender. He traces the sides of his body with the tips of his fingers, and his eyes are dark, brilliant, and Dean’s trembling because this is different, this is different from any guy, any girl, anyone he’s ever been with before. No one has ever looked at him like this before. The way Cas touches him, it’s like he’s the one who’s divine.

Cas presses him gently onto his back with a kiss, reverent, and his hand drifts down, over his stomach, his hips, finds his cock. He drags his fingers along the length of it, slow, playful, and Dean whines into the kiss, pleading. Suddenly his dick is slick, wet, and he moans, twisting in Cas’s hand.

“How—” he gasps, and Cas’s voice is just a breath in his ear.

“I’m an angel, Dean.”

When Cas pushes his legs open, and slips between them — when he trails kisses down Dean’s stomach, runs his tongue down the crease where his thigh meets his hip — when he kisses Dean so hard he draws blood, and then slips his fingers into Dean’s mouth — Dean’s gone. He can feel his own cock leaking against his stomach, so exposed and vulnerable and untouched. He needs this, needs Cas to touch him, hold him, want him. He swears out loud when Cas’s spit slick fingers slide between his asscheeks, tease at his hole. He pushes into his touch, craving more, needing to feel—

And then Cas’s tongue grazes his cock, his thigh, his asshole, and he’s trembling, bucking on the bed beneath him; his hands find Cas’s shoulders and he grabs him, pleading, as Cas’s tongue, hot and wet and obscene, teases at his fluttering hole. Cas’s gaze flicks up to meet his, eyes glittering, lips bruised, the column of his throat stark in the half light, and Dean is suddenly hit by the fact that this is an angel, this is not a man, this is an angel, a soldier of god, a force of nature, divine and unknowable and sacred. Cas slips up over him and presses a kiss against his open mouth, presses his palm against his aching dick, and slowly, agonisingly, pushes his cock inside him.

Dean’s lost. His throat is tipped back to the stars, stars obscured by a plywood and mortar and brick. He rocks onto Cas’s cock, and Cas whispers in his ear; soft, calm, quiet, tender. He moves slowly, gently, like Dean is fragile, sacred. Like he matters. He presses kisses to his lips, his throat, his shoulders as he pushes deeper in, as Dean gasps and presses up to meet him, wanting, always wanting. His hand grips Dean’s cock, thumb flicking lazily over the head, smearing pre-come and Dean could swear he’s enjoying this, toying with him, making him wait. He whimpers beneath him, tries to arch his hips in time with Cas’s lazy, teasing thrusts.

Cas lowers his mouth to Dean’s ear, whispers, his voice rough.

“Wait.”

Dean can’t wait, can’t think about anything but the ache between his thighs, the gentle fingers teasing him, the fact Cas pushed in even further as he whispered wait, bottomed out, flush against Dean’s prostate and just holding him there, not moving. He shakes his head, protests, tries to grind into Cas’s palm, but Cas tuts, sighs, brushes his thumb across his lips.

“I told you to wait.”

“Please, Cas— I can’t wait, I— please—”

Cas’s eyes are bright, searching.

“What do you want?”

“You know, Cas— you—”

“I want you to say it.”

“Please— Cas, please—”

Cas’s gaze flicks down, over his throat, the expanse of his chest, his leaking cock. He shifts, and Dean moans beneath him. His hand comes to meet Dean’s jaw, dragging the pad of his thumb down over his lower lip, gazing as if he’s curious, thoughtful.

“I want you to say it.”

His voice is low and rough and it sends a shiver down Dean’s spine. He’s a mess; he needs this, like he doesn’t remember needing before; and the fact Cas wants him to say it is somehow even better, even more—

“I want you to fuck me. Please. Please.”

Cas doesn’t move, still watching him, as if lost in thought. He twitches his hand a little around Dean’s cock, rubs his thumb over his aching head, and something in Dean snaps, and the words tumble from his lips before he can stop them—

“I need you to fuck me, Cas, I need it, I’m begging you, I need it, I need you, I need you here, please, god, please, Cas, please, please, just fuck me, touch me, make me yours, I can’t—”

And then his words are cut off by Cas’s kiss, hard, rough, dominant; one hand on Dean’s throat, the other like a vice around his leaking cock, and he’s fucking him so hard Dean cries out, sound lost on Cas’s lips. Dean wraps his legs around him, pulls him closer, closer, closer, and Cas’s hand finds his shoulder, palm like fire against Dean’s brand. Dean’s hips stutter and he gasps, his cum hot and wet against his ribs. Cas’s mouth is at his throat, his lips, and then he pulls Dean toward him, Dean’s forehead pressed against him as he comes, head tipped back and moaning, eyes lidded, lips parted, dishevelled and messy and divine and his.

***

He falls asleep in his arms.

There is a split in his lip; Cas brushes it softly with his finger. His healing touch is light, deft.

He moves very little; he doesn’t want to wake Dean.

Sleep. It looks peaceful. The warring emotions that usually colour Dean’s brow have all but faded. For a brief moment, Cas considers closing his eyes; perhaps there is bliss in the wilful dulling of the senses.

But that would mean taking his eyes off Dean.

Anger — unfamiliar, strange — courses through him; he had failed last night. Failed to protect the man who sleeps, now, mercifully whole, in his arms.

He would not make the same mistake again.

Dean turns in his sleep, turns toward him, nestles into Cas’s chest. His eyelashes flutter against him, his breath warm on Cas’s skin.

Cas feels — peaceful. Anger, guilt, joy; the messy milieu of human emotion is startling and strange. But this is different.

He knows this. The ache in his chest, the fire that burns. Faith. It is, perhaps, the only thing he has ever truly known. And for millennia, he had never questioned where to place it.

Dean murmurs in his sleep, and Cas traces his fingers over his chest, sweet and gentle and slow. By morning, there are a hundred Enochian love letters patterned, invisible, onto Dean’s ribs.

The stars fade, and the sun rises, and Cas watches over Dean.

This is faith.

#destiel #deancas #destiel wedding #deancas wedding #dean winchester #cas #castiel #supernatural #bi dean #dean is bi #bi!dean #supernatural fic #spn fic #supernatural meta #destiel is canon #fic #mine

[deanwasalwaysbi]

Sam’s hurt again. Cas says prayer is a sign of faith. Maybe that what Dean thinks of when he decides to pray to the other angels too. He can’t count on Cas to come.

Trust is a two way street and Cas didn’t trust him and so now he’s pissed. no. not pissed. Hurt.  Why did that hurt so damn much? It only works if he means it. What if he doesn’t mean it right now? Or what is he doesn’t forgive Dean for the way he talked to him? "Yeah, you always do.” “Yeah, well, you know, even banged up, Sammy comes through.” “We don't need your help.”

"Cas, are you there? Sammy's hurt. He's hurt, uh – he's hurt pretty bad. And, um... I know you think that I'm pissed at you, okay? But I don't care that the angels fell. So whatever you did or didn't do, it doesn't matter, okay? We'll work it out. Please, man, I need you here... Screw it. Okay, listen up. This one goes out to any angel with their ears on. This is Dean Winchester... And I need your help.”  (x)

#cas you got your ears on #6 #deancas #deancas meta #dean meta #destiel season 9 #destiel season 8 #part #spn meta #and part #spn ficlet #Original Content #dean was always bi

[mattzerella-sticks]

Supernatural Crack🩹tober

Day 12 - Moondorsonas

           Tomorrow was very important. The culmination of an entire year, what every faithful citizen under Moondoor’s banner looked forward to. A celebration of rebirth and renewal, where they prepare for harvest days now that the last bit of chill faded from the breeze. And Castiel, as Archchancellor, was tasked with making sure this festival ran as it had for centuries. Perfectly, without a hitch.

           He’d be more confident, though, if Castiel could speak with Her Royal Highness.

           Being the Archchancellor, Castiel delegated many of his church’s emissaries with tasks so he could focus on the main event. The ritual where, under the heavenly glow of their goddess's full moon, Castiel invoked sacred prayers in the ancient tongue. Bathing in her mercy. Asking for protection. Bartered humble, righteous service for help making this summer’s crops more bountiful than last. As it would be his first time, Castiel spent many days and nights in training alongside fulfilling his other duties. There were never enough hours in his life for it all, so help was required.

           However, not every emissary was successful. Like Brother Samandriel, whose only duty was getting the Queen’s signature on papers detailing the expenses for the Celestial Carnival. That way, when Ellen from the Treasury Chamber yelled at him for how much gold they used, he could present her with those papers and direct her towards the Queen for questioning.

           Except Samandriel returned with unmarked sheets. “They wouldn’t let me speak with her,” he said, “that I didn’t rank high enough.”

           Castiel snorted, flicking his way through robe after robe. Thinking about which he should wear for the festival. “That doesn’t sound like the Queen,” Castiel told him, “who pulled rank on you?”

           “Her Majesty’s Handmaiden.”

           He stilled, strangling the silver fabric in his hands. Castiel turned, exchanging the robe for Samandriel’s papers, and set off down the hall. Temple pounding at the same pace his sandals slapped across the stone flooring. Barreling towards the Queen’s royal offices. Tan cloak billowing behind him, looking almost like wings. Their flapping scaring poor servants and maids who he happened upon in his fury.

           The only one who hadn’t flinched on sight, is the same man who keeps him from completing this simple task. Talks in endless circles and wasting his time.

           Queen Charlene’s Most Favored Handmaiden, Sir Dean Winchester. Like he knew Castiel was incoming, Dean waited outside her doors. Leaned on them, blocking his path. Arms folded over a leather tunic while he wore his most smug expression that Dean knew Castiel hated. “His Holy Archchancellor,” Dean greeted, “What purpose is it that you would grace us with your divine presence?”

           “I need to speak with Her Majesty.”

           “…Why?”

           Fifteen minutes later, Castiel was nowhere closer to getting past him. While he commanded the holy light of the goddess, Amara, the other man’s supernatural ability of being annoyingly stubborn proved indomitable.

           “Dean,” he sighs, pinching his brow, “I really don’t have time for this.”

           “You never have time for anything.”

           “I’m to meet with members of the MacLeod Court within the hour,” he explains, “and if I’m even a second late you know how unbearable the Lady Rowena will be. With her being this year’s goddess conduit, I need her at least somewhat agreeable.”

           Dean scoffs, waving Castiel’s concerns off. “I can send Sam down there and distract her. You know how crazy she is about him.”

           “Please don’t,” Castiel says, “we’re on a very tight schedule as it is. I can’t have her flitting off with your brother to the deepest sections of the library.” He stepped closer, toes brushing the tops of Dean’s boots. “Is Queen Charlene in such an important meeting that she cannot take five minutes to sign a few pages?”

           He hopes the earnest sincerity he wove throughout his voice works. That, paired with the wide eyes and trembling lip, always worked on the other man in younger years. Getting him to roll over like a well-trained hound. While Castiel hadn’t used tricks such as those for a while, they still hold. Dean relents, dropping his façade.

           “She’s just in there writing stories about characters from this story she likes,” Dean confesses, “the one her fool, Gabriel, tells.”

           Irritation wounds him, stabbing sharply at his side. “Then why have you been putting me through this?”

           “Because we’re finally having a conversation!” Ice rushes through Castiel’s veins at the admission, stumbling backwards. Body uncooperative for the moment. Dean carries on, ignorant of Castiel’s reaction. “Ever since you took over for that bastard Ishim as Archchancellor, I barely see you anymore outside of our bedchambers, and even then I feel…” His gaze dips, lips trembling as he stops shouting. “I feel like you aren’t there with me.”

           “Dean…”

           “I just – I miss those days when you would skip your daily meditations, and I’d say I was doing parole. Lying to our superiors, even though I’m sure Charlie knew where I was going… and we’d meet in our special alcove. Talk and kiss and… you know.” Dean sighs, swiping at his nose. “I can’t remember the last time we kissed, let alone when we were intimate with one another.”

           There are a lot of sad truths Castiel realizes. That his newer responsibilities did weigh on him greatly, pulling Castiel at all hours. He would enter their room exhausted, barely uttering a single word before passing out atop the bed. And as Archchancellor, he could not sneak off like in the early days of their courtship. His superior hung in the sky every night – there was no lying to her. But Dean hadn’t deserved such dismissals. Being left behind, unknowingly. Underappreciated. Unvalued. There was no excuse for Castiel’s actions. Dean was important to him, as much as his faith was.

           Castiel reaches forward, cupping Dean’s cheek in his hand. Forcing his gaze onto Castiel’s face. “Oh, Dean,” he sighs, “I apologize. Truly. For not making you feel as important as you are to me.”

           Dean offers a pitiable smile, shrugging. “S’okay,” he mutters, “I’m just… these past few weeks have been rougher than usual, because of the festival. Plus, there’s this whole conflict on the Southern Border that Charlie’s worried might grow into something larger if not dealt with I… it was just terrible timing, I guess.” He steps aside, gesturing at the door. “Go. You have things to do, better things than comforting my sorry ass.”

           “You’re forgetting, Dean Winchester,” Castiel grins, following him. Loops his arms over Dean’s shoulders. “I’ve seen your ass, and there is nothing you should feel sorry for. Amara did bless you mightily in that regard.”

           Their foreheads touch, Dean mirroring Castiel’s expression. “She blessed me by allowing you to find your way to me.”

           Castiel agrees with a kiss, pressing against him in a way they haven’t fit for a while. As they break for air, panting, Castiel hugs Dean tighter. “I promise, in the new year, I’m going to find a balance. Make more time for you, whenever I can. And if whatever I do isn’t enough – please let me know. Because I will try harder.”

           “I will,” he promises, “thank you, Cas.”

           They part after one last kiss, Castiel sliding his hand down Dean’s arm until their fingers tangle. “I should really get these papers signed,” he says.

           “Yeah.”

           Castiel cannot leave. Not yet. An idea strikes, like lightning. Inspiration so divine he thinks his goddess bestowed it as a gift. “You know,” he starts, swinging their hands, “after the ritual, I’m supposed to be in attendance of a grand feast.”

           “Yeah, I know,” Dean says, “So am I.”

           “The thing is… I’m supposed to be adorned in full regalia.” Castiel squeezes Dean’s hand, “The hat… the necklace… gloves and mask.” By Dean’s glinting eyes and curling smirk, Castiel knows he understands. Yet he continues. “Actually, anyone could be dressed in that outfit and they’ll assume it’s me. Brother Samandriel owes me a favor, anyway… do you think you could delay your arrival to the feast?”

           Dean nods, “I’m sure I could… but where would we go? The castle will be brimming with the usual ghosts and curious guests.”

           “There’s always our alcove.”

           “Yeah… our alcove.”

           Castiel lets go, returning to his role. “I’ll see you later tonight,” he says, “And we can rehearse for tomorrow.”

           Dean cheekily bows. “Holding you to that, Holy Archchancellor.”

           “You’re mistaken Dean,” Castiel finally opens the door, “it’ll be me doing the holding.” As beautiful as the papal bells, his beloved’s laughter fills the space. Trailing after him even through the closed doors. Charlene glances up from her musings, smiling. “Hello Charlie,” Castiel says, grabbing for the papers in his cloak pocket, “can I have a moment of your time…?”

(Day 11 - American Pie)

#supernatural #spn #cracktober #profoundnet #castiel #dean winchester #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #moondor au

[supernatural-reacts]

Season 13 episode 1

- hi Jack!

- DEAN JUST STARING AT CAS ON THE GROUND FOR WHAT

- Dean. Why did you shoot the all powerful child.

OH I LIKE THIS ^^

- Dean dreaming about Mary ;-;

- Jack please don’t go into that store without any clothes on

- oh hey it’s the guy who plays Joaquin on Riverdale!

- “Crowley’s dead, Kelly’s dead, Cas is..... Mom’s gone” HE CANT EVEN SAY IT IM

- “almost killed us!” “Yeah because you tried to shoot him.” GOOD POINT SAM

- “what about Cas? Is he... is he really dead?” “You know he is.” AAAAA

- why does Jack look so evil

- “he deserved better.” “He really didn’t” extremely fuck you. Very how dare you

- Jack is so baby!

- so is he looking for Lucifer or is he looking for Cas

- “I remember when the bad woman burned.” JACK YOU CANT JUST 😭

- “what are you on?” “I’m on a chair. On the floor. On planet earth.” I love him!

- “and lit most of her stuff on fire. I got issues!” THIS GIRL IS SO FUNNY

BABY!

- oh no he hurt the sheriff lady

- “will you tell them that I’m sorry?” BABYYYY 🥺

- “my father is Castiel” yeAHHHH

- HE CHOSE CAS TO BE HIS DAD AND CAS IS DEAD IM CRYINGGG

- Sam is being so nice I love him

- Dean I love you but shut up

- oh no the girl is evil

- SAM TRYING TO PROTECT JACK IS ACTUALLY SOMETHING THAT CAN BE SO PERSONAL

- HE SAVED HIM OMG

- “he can do almost anything.” “Anything?” “Aw sweet. Almost anything. Castiel? He’s dead. All the way dead. Because of you.” THIS RANDOM ANGEL KNEW EXACTLY WHAT DEAN WAS THINKING BC ITS ABOUT CAS

- OH NO SHE STABBED JACK

- oh he’s fine cool

- “God did. maybe if we prayed to him-” “you don’t think I’ve tried that?” I’m going insane! Prayer is a sign of faith but Dean obviously doesn’t have faith in Chuck bc this is about his faith in Cas!

- “we’ve lost everything and now you’re going to bring him back.” OWWWW

- that prayer hurt me I’m crying

- DEAN RIPPING THE CURTAINS DOWN TO WRAP CAS’S BODY IM LOSING MY MIND HELLO WIDOWER ARC

- “you say goodbye.” Cas and Sam are best friends and that’s hard to remember sometimes but when it hits oh god

- hi Mary!

- oh no it’s Lucifer

#dean winchester #supernatural #dean and sam #sam winchester #spn #supernatural thoughts #sam and dean #spn thoughts #castiel #destiel #deancas #jack kline #spn season 13 #supernatural season 13

[finaledenialist]

Alright, sorry for dominating your ask box, but I have another Important Point to make: Blasphemy by Bring me the horizon, but it’s Dean before he met Cas.

YOU CAN DOM MY ASKBOX ANYTIME YOU WANT ;) ♡

Am I-- Am I supposed to quote the whole song again because honestly... 

You got hell to pay but you already sold your soul (...) What would your mother say, your faith that you ignored So don't try to tell me that you still believe No don't preach to me Ask no questions and you'll get no lies Turn the cheek and blind the eye (...) Bend the knee and give away your life Bite your tongue and close your mind

Not me having feels about pre-Cas Dean in season 3. No. No, nope. No. There is everything here: mother who had faith and said that angels are watching over you; ask no questions and you’ll get no lies (Ruby being That Bitch in s3), bend the knee and give your life away for your brother who really wish you never took that deal good god...

The blood and sweat you sacrificed Was it all for nothing 'Cause you found no sign and see no light We hear no voice when we pray at night But we swore and now it's too late to turn back You're not blessed you're cursed And it's getting worse now

Something about unanswered prayers. Something about God doesn’t exist and if he did he would be a sadistic bastard. Something about Dean being blessed by Cas’ existence but Cas being cursed by Dean’s.

#bmth x destiel #destiel songs #ask #mutuals #casisalamp