#i need a sam and cas shopping trip

[angelfishofthelord]

where do y'all americans go shopping for bedding like mattresses etc in a small town

#so no ikea #i need a sam and cas shopping trip #angelfish rambles

[delulu4dean]

“Five Gum…”

Warnings: idk, cringe outdated pop culture references. Gender neutral terms(just wanting you so you don’t get like confused <3 )

Pairings: Cas X autistic!reader(platonic), Dean x child!reader

Summary: Castiel is hanging out with Dean’s autistic child, and they have a lot in common.

Word Count: 1,278

Your dad, Dean Winchester, is out on a hunting trip with your Uncle Sammy. He left you alone with Castiel. You don’t know what Castiel is to your dad, they say they’re best friends, but the way they look at each other says more.

You didn’t mind being at the bunker with Cas though. Out of everyone, you got along with him the most. You had some sort of mutual understanding that Sam and Dean don’t get. You assumed it’s because Castiel didn’t know much about human interaction, social cues, pop culture references, and you were well, autistic. Your dad has made the joke that you and Castiel tilt your head the same way when you’re confused, and both don’t understand his sarcasm, and how even though your Dean’s kid, you’re a mini-Cas.

“So what are we doing today?” Castiel asks you.

“I know my dad is protective, but you really don’t need to babysit me, I’m 18. I am an adult,” you explain to Castiel.

“That’s not why he leaves me with you, he just doesn’t want you to get lonely.”

You nod, understanding. Today you’re probably going to do what you and Cas always do, exist next to each other while doing your own things. He’ll be reading something, you’ll be drawing something, and occasionally you two will look at each other, and ask how it’s going. It’s always worked that way.

And that is what you do today. You both go to the library together, Castiel picks out a book, you pull out your sketchbook, and you start doing what you learned is called “parallel play.” At least that’s what it’s called in kids, but you figured the term can be applied here too. You start sketching away as Castiel looks at you, narrowing his eyes.

“You wear that jacket all the time, why?” he asks.

“It brings me comfort. You wear that trench coat all the time, even indoors when you don’t need to. Why is that?” you throw the question right back at him.

“I suppose it also brings me some sense of comfort,” he concludes.

You nod, satisfied with his answer, and go back to sketching, as he goes back to his book. The only sounds filling the room are Castiel’s occasional page flipping, and your constant scribbling. This goes on for half an hour, only to be interrupted by your stomach erupting in hunger. Castiel does not say a word, as he gets up and goes to the bunker’s kitchen, and comes back with a prepackaged peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Oh thanks. When did we get these?” you raise an eyebrow.

“I got them the last time I went grocery shopping with your dad. He said you were having trouble eating because the foods we’ve been getting weren’t the right texture, and I remember when I was human I loved peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, you can never go wrong with them. But I know you sometimes just want ready made food, and when I saw these in the freezer section, I told Dean to get them.”

A smile comes across your face as you open the packaging and take a bite. These prepackaged peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were one of your safe foods, your other one being boxed mac and cheese. You bounce happily as you eat, something you do whenever you’re eating food you really like. And if it’s super good, you’ll kick your feet a little too.

You lick your fingers after you finish your sandwich, and sign “thank you” in ASL, something you do when you don’t feel like talking much. It’s a thing you do with everyone, you’ve taught them basic signs like “yes” or “no” or “please” or “thank you” or “food” or “water” to communicate when you don’t feel like talking.

“No problem,” Cas responds, smiling at you.

You nod and get back to your little activity while Castiel gets back to his. The silence is nice, you get to focus on you sketch, which is a picture of Castiel sitting down in his chair, reading. You occasionally glance up at him, getting the details you need, but you’re not going for realism. You have your own cartoonish art style and you’re drawing Castiel in it. Once you finish, you show him, and a big smile appears on his face as he puts down his book.

“You drew that? That’s me,” he says, and you nod. “I love it.”

You smile and start putting your art supplies away, as he goes back to reading. You clean up your space and put everything back in your room, before returning to Cas. You look over his shoulder at the book he’s reading, trying to not disturb him. He flips through the pages as he reads. But the page flipping and the silence get too much.

“Dicks out for Harambe,” you blurt out, not thinking.

Castiel once again sets his book down, this time not intending to pick it back up, as he looks up at you concerned. You didn’t think before speaking, but being on the internet you hear this phrase a lot. So you said it, and now Castiel is concerned.

“Who is Harambe and why are we exposing ourselves for him,” Castiel asks.

You think for a moment, wanting to answer him, but there’s no way to answer him without sounding stupid and insane. You take a deep breath, giggling a little at the thought of explaining “dicks out for Harambe” to Castiel.

“It’s an internet thing. This gorilla, Harambe, was killed, so we uh, expose ourselves, as you put it, to pay respects to him,” you attempt at an answer but Castiel furrows his eyebrows, getting even more confused.

“How is that paying respect?”

“Well it isn’t… it’s a joke…”

“I thought jokes were supposed to be funny,” he bluntly says.

“It is… to younger people I guess,” you shrug.

“And you said it because…?”

“I said it to fill the silence.”

Cas takes a moment to think, nodding, taking in what you just explained. He then takes his phone out and types away and you look at him, waiting for him to say or do something. He pats the seat next to him and you sit and look at his phone. It’s one of those fruit sensory videos on TikTok that you got Castiel into. Not the baby videos(well they are the baby videos) but the ones to popular music. You and Castiel watched as blueberries and strawberries bounce around the screen to Lincoln Park’s “Numb.”

“Why are we watching this?” you finally ask.

“You seemed like you needed something stimulating to watch or listen to,” Cas answers you.

“That reminds me,” you say, running to your room to grab something quick.

✰✰✰✰✰

Sam and Dean walk into the bunker, and as soon as they see everything, they just look around, confused. The ground is covered in bubble wrap, and the map table is full of Pop-it fidgets. You look up at your uncle and dad, as you and Cas run around barefoot on the bubble wrap, playing with the fidgets.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks.

You look up at him, with an innocent smile on your face.

“Five gum!” you yell at him, throwing a pop-it fidget at him, and he catches it. “Stimulate your senses!”

“I think they are making a joke, because this is a way to stimulate our feeling sense, which is something people on the spectrum often do,” Castiel explains to Dean.

“Yeah, I know what they meant, Cas,” Dean chuckles. “You two have fun while we were gone?”

You and Cas both nod.

✰✰✰✰✰

A/N sorry if this is silly, I’m autistic and Kin cas so I thought it would be fun to do Cas and Dean’s autistic kid. But autism is a spectrum! While this may be how autism is for me, it doesn’t represent everyone with autism :)

#castiel #castiel supernatural #castiel x y/n #castiel x reader #dean x child!reader #dad!dean #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x you

[castielmydarling]

Suptober 2023-Day 3: Inspired

Pen to Paper-672 words on AO3 or below Summary: Dean is away from Cas longer than he likes so he finds a creative way to past the time.

Sam leaves the bathroom giving Dean a quick ‘good night’, the sorry again is left unsaid but Dean hears it all the same.

“Night, Sammy.” Dean clips. He knows it’s not his fault but that doesn’t leave Dean any less annoyed. He heads into the bathroom for his own quick shower. 

Almost a week ago Sam had come to Dean with a quick milk run hunt. ‘Two days, tops’ he said, Dean wasn't really up for it since it meant having to leave Cas behind. 

Before the Empty Cas’ powers weren’t the best but now they seemed to be failing him more. The past couple of weeks have been especially hard, he’s been so tired he’s sleeping more and more. Dean knew Cas would probably insist on coming, always one to put his needs last. 

Sure enough when Dean told Cas about the hunt he started getting out of bed saying he was ready. One look from Dean shut that down. 

“I know you want to help and believe me I want nothing more than for you to come but you’re not ok. And don’t give me that I’m fine crap because I know you’re not.”

Cas sighed conceding that Dean was right. The silver lining was Jack would be staying home too so at least this meant he could have some quality time with him. 

Dean packed quickly, if he waited too long he’d never leave. He went back to the bed, pulling the covers over Cas. He reached down, gently stroking his hair back before giving him a kiss on the forehead. “Sam says two days, we’ll do it in one and I’ll be back before you know it, ok?”

Cas nodded. “Be careful, Dean. I’ll miss you but don’t rush on my account.”

Dean smiled. “Always am. You just rest up and don’t worry about me, ok?” He gave him another quick kiss and set off. 

That was five days ago. 

Sam’s milk run of a hunt turned into a whole damn Costco shopping trip. After the third day Cas was ready to ignore Dean’s pleas to stay home until Jack finally convinced him it was safer for them both if Cas stayed. 

This was the longest they’ve been apart since the Empty and Dean hated every minute of it. He scrolled through the (very) few pictures of them on his phone but it wasn’t enough. He would remedy that the second he got home but for now he did the next best thing-he drew.

He took the notepad from the hotel desk and just started sketching. He didn’t even know what he was drawing until it took shape, Castiel’s eyes. He used a blue pen to fill them in but it didn’t do them justice. 

Then it was his hands. Before they got together he vaguely knew Cas’ hands were big and he liked that. But once they were on him? And those long fingers in him? Well, he became obsessed.

Soon he filled up the notepad with sketches of Cas’s eyes, hands, maybe even some NSFW body parts. Eventually he had to get another pad from the front desk because not only was the hunt taking too damn long but he couldn’t stop drawing. 

Dean finishes his shower and heads to his room. He slowly opens the door trying to not wake Cas in the process. He’s unsuccessful. 

Cas stirs from under the covers. “Dean?” His voice was rough from sleep. 

Dean lays next to him, pulling him close. “Yeah, it’s me. Go back to sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

“How many gallons of milk did you get?” he mumbles, sleepy. 

Dean laughs, “More than enough.”

Cas is back asleep before he can say anymore. 

Dean is exhausted but he’s not tired, not yet. He grabs a pad of paper he thankfully has next to his bed. He does want to take more pictures of him but the urge to draw him like this, in his bed, asleep and peaceful is too strong to resist. 

#suptober23 #destiel fic #destiel #castiel #dean winchester #since these are short i decided i'll start posting them here and ao3

[fallingintolife]

Shopping Surprises

Request: omg i don't know if requests are still open,  but could you possibly do sam winchester going out shopping with his s/o for fun since they're usually too busy hunting and they somehow drag dean along too and are just carrying all of their stuff around please? i think it would be so funny and chaotic 😭

Summary: Shopping trips are not Dean's cup of tea however this one would probably be the best ever after he figures out why you were all there in the first place…

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader, Dean

Warnings: Seriously none. Just all the friggin' fluff

Word Count: 544

A/N: Anon! I'm sorry this took me a bit to write…it's not my best but I hope you enjoy it 💕 sending all the love and hugs! 💕

"Remind me why I'm here again?" Dean asked with a huff, adding another bag on his arm as they headed to the next store. Sam rolled his eyes but you just smiled trying not to laugh.

"Because we needed to go on a supply run and Y/N needed to pick up a few things."

"Nope, yep got that. Still don't understand why I was dragged along. She's your girlfriend, Sammy, carrying her bags is your job." Sam shot him his classic bitch face. You rolled your eyes.

"I'll make you pie when we get home okay? I just need to grab a couple more things and then we can head home. I'm just gonna stop in this store really quick and I'll meet you both at the car." Dean was gone before you even finished your sentence which honestly just made you laugh, rolling your eyes. "Go follow Dean just to make sure he doesn't drive off without me please?" Sam chuckled but nodded and gave you a peck on the lips.

After five minutes you finally got to the Impala and we're putting your bags in the backseat with you.

"Jeez, Y/N, what were you buying in there?"

"Dean." Sam warned. With a roll of his eyes he turned to say another sassy comment when he noticed something poking out of your bag. His eyes immediately went wide, as did yours when you saw what he was staring at. You subtly, yet sternly shook your head at Dean, praying to Cas he wouldn't say a word.

"Dean, could you stop pestering my girlfriend and drive?" Dean cleared his throat and drove home without a word.

As soon as you all got back to the Bunker and San had brought most of the bags back to y'all's room was when Dean cornered you.

"So…?" You bit your lip hesitantly.

"I'm pregnant." You'd be lying if you said you weren't nervous about what Dean's reaction would be. You and Sam had told Dean a few months back that you were trying to get pregnant and his reaction wasn't exactly…pleasant. He lectured you both about how you both could raise a child while being hunters which was when Sam had told him that you both would be leaving the hunting world whenever you did have a child and that was a whole nother can of worms.

You stood there nervously watching Dean, hoping that he wouldn't ruin this moment for you and Sam. He was looking down, stone faced when he mumbled something and then repeated it but louder.

"I'm gonna be an uncle. I'm gonna be an uncle!" The amount of relief you felt in that moment as Dean grinned at you, pulling you into a tight hug meant everything. You giggled and nodded with tears in your eyes.

"Yeah Dean, you're gonna be an uncle."

"Wait. Does Sammy know?" Dean let go of you and turned around seeing Sam walking in holding a shirt that said "Super Dad".

"It was positive?" He asked softly. You grinned as happy tears fell down his face. Sam picked you up and spun you around as a laugh full of joy filled the Bunker.

"I'm gonna be a dad. We're gonna be parents."

"And I'm gonna be an uncle!" Dean pulled you both into a hug. 

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn fic #supernatural fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #sam winchester x reader #supernatural requests open #spn requests open #anon request #hope this was okay... #😘

[cuddlemonsterdean]

If you could create a new secret room in the bunker to insert into the original story and be heavily featured, what would it be/look like?

okay so if anyone sees this who also reads my fics, they probably won't be surprised if I say indoor swimming pool! I feel like Dean would find swimming to be really good for stress relief, because it can be meditative like fishing but there's also physical exertion, which might help him calm down when he's stressed or help him sleep when he has insomnia. when they first discover it, I think he'd also really enjoy the process of restoring it and making it as clean and cozy as the rest of his nest home.

I feel like Sam might prefer running over swimming, but Cas would try out the pool, if only because Dean is so enthusiastic about sharing his joy with Cas. and Cas has never been swimming! and doesn't own swim trunks! that of course needs to be rectified - cue shopping trip where Dean is super picky because they need swim trunks that look cool and badass!! (aka have big sharks on them)

then there's also the angst potential of post-Michael-possession!Dean who just went through the torture of "trapped and drowning inside my own body". that plus the whole bunker - his home - is full of strangers, strangers who look at Dean and only see Michael. and now when he needs stress relief and safe spaces the most, he can't even go for a long, calming swim, because being surrounded by water is terrifying now. another part of Dean that he lost to Michael because he was too weak to kick him out, and he's so mad, but he has nowhere to turn that anger against but himself. I actually wrote a fic where the whole ordeal with Michael (being possessed twice, then locking Michael inside his own mind and Michael breaking out forcefully) left Dean with not only ptsd but also epilepsy, which actively makes it dangerous for him to be in or even near the pool on his own.

there's also fluff potential though! I think Dean would really enjoy teaching Jack to swim, the same way he enjoyed teaching Jack to drive. he'd be so patient and then be so proud and happy watching Jack succeed, and it would be a really good bonding time for them. Jack would wanna get big floatables just for the fun of it and Dean would grumble about how stupid those are - until he learns that they make egg and bacon shaped ones, and then he's all for it.

thank you for the ask! :3

#kelpie talks #shallowseeker

[gringolet]

A month before our story starts, Castiel informed Dean he was going on vacation. 

“I’m going on vacation,” he informed. “In Miami. Don’t look for me, I will be drunk.”

“No, you won’t be,” said Dean, paying about a quarter cup’s worth of attention. “You never drink with me.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t drink. And maybe Miami will tell me something about myself.”

“That you hate the heat?”

“I lived in Jerusalem for a time. But you wouldn’t remember.” 

“Oh, you’re just being dramatic.”

But Dean wouldn’t remember. And he didn’t remember that Castiel had already filed his PTO request the month earlier (“You don’t need to file PTO to me, I’m not your boss. And you aren’t even going anywhere.” “Yes I am, I’m going to Miami.”). So when Cas turned up gone the morning of October 16th, Dean panicked. 

“It’s not like he lives with us,” said Sam. “He’s probably just wandering around somewhere. We’re not angel keepers.” 

“We’re not brother keepers,” Dean corrected, smugly. It wasn’t often he out-Bible trivia’ed Sam. “Because we aren’t going to, you know— clobber each other to death with sticks.” When Sam didn’t respond immediately, he frowned. “Right? You’re not going to clobber me to death with a stick, right, Sam?”

“Look, I don’t think you need to worry about Cas.”

“That’s not an answer about the stick bit.”

Sam gave him a long look and then one very brief pat on the shoulder. “You need to get your mind off of this. Let’s go on the road, yeah? I’ve heard New York needs some hunters.”

“City? Eugh.” Sam had always been trying to get them to take trips to NYC together, for inexplicable, out of character, reasons. Dean had always thought this was a thinly veiled trick to get him to sit through a musical production and the concept made him nervous and vaguely threatened. “Alright, one of your gay little Broadway shows. And then look for Cas?”

Sam frowned at his brother. “Dean, how many times do I have to tell you, just because I starred in a high school production of RENT doesn’t mean I’m gay. That was a stage kiss.” 

Dean shrugged. “Whatever.” 

“And even if I was, that would be an unproductive and unsupportive way to speak to your gay brother. I, personally, would never make fun of a family member for his attraction to men or otherwise.” Sam looked at Dean. “I mean, what would Cas think?”

Dean squinted. “Um. Okay.” 

“So New York then?” 

This time Dean went for the double combo of squinting and shrugging. “Sure. I hate New York. Sure. I guess.”

So New York it was. 

They had been in New York for two days when Sam’s incessant fiddling around on the internet paid off. “I think,” he said, worrying his lower lip in concentration, “that there might be some sort of haunting in a record shop a couple miles from here. Some of the more serious true crime Subreddits are speculating about a serial killer hunting there, but… take a look at this.” 

Dean accepted the laptop he was being handed and squinted at the screen. “Four people beaten to death in two months?” he said after a moment’s reading. “Really? Serves them right for buying vinyl, I guess.”

Miasma Records was a dingy basement level shop, with the general smell and air of a dive bar at 11 o’clock in the morning. They seemed to only sell BritPop records and Bob Dylan, with a small collection of buckets labeled things like “funny guys.”, “sex.”, and “things that remind you of the Mountain Goats but we don’t have the Mountain Goats.” Dean didn’t know who the Mountain Goats were. “Funny guys.” was just a handful of stand up comedy albums from the 1950’s, plus one with no cover art that was Sharpied over with a drawing of a cartoon cactus. Dean looked discreetly in the “sex.” bucket, only to find that every single record was Neil Diamond’s ‘Hot August Night’. He held up the first one and made eye contact with the bored-looking teenage clerk. 

“Really?” he asked. “Neil Diamond?” The clerk shrugged and went back to scribbling on his arm with a pen.

“Hey, is that Neil Diamond’s ‘Hot August Night?’” said Sam, wandering over and peering over Dean’s shoulder. “I love that guy!”

“Oh, god, Sam.” Dean cringed. “Please tell me you aren’t going to buy this — wait. Cas?” 

In the very back of the BritPop section, a trenchcoated figure huddled over a stack of records. His hair was blonde — did Cas bleach his hair? Did angels even need to do that, or could they just snap their fingers and boom, Justin Timberlake circa ‘99. Not that Dean followed Justin Timberlake closely. 

“Cas, what are you doing here?” 

He didn’t turn around, instead inspecting a Manic Street Preachers album. ‘The Holy Bible’. Of course. 

“Hey, I don’t think that’s what you think it is, buddy.” 

Cas — no, definitely not Cas — turned around then. “Oh? Enlighten me,” he said, in a pronounced accent. It was something British— Dean didn’t care to differentiate between the types.

“Who the hell are you?”

“You ask that to every stranger you meet in a record store?”

“Just the ones wearing my friend’s coat.” 

The man’s eyebrows crept to his hairline. “Wow. Your friend owns this coat? That’s fascinating. Here I was thinking I bought it at Marks and Spencer as a teenager. Why don’t you give me his number so I can get it back to him?”

Dean almost had the instinct to be embarrassed. Of course it wasn’t Cas’ coat. But he wouldn’t be shown up by a bleach blonde Brit in the middle of a trashy vinyl shop. “What are you doing on this side of the pond anyway, London?”

“I’m from Liverpool, mate,” said the man, after a brief pause indicating that Dean had committed some horrible transgression against his dignity. “Unless you want me to be from London.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Sam had made his way to Dean’s side. “I’m sorry about my brother, he’s—” Sam glanced to his side. “Passionate about coats.” 

“A man must have some hobbies,” the Brit said generously, and turned back to the Manic Street Preachers.

“We need to solve this case soon, Sammy,” Dean said under his breath, turning away from the Britpop corner. “I don’t think I can tolerate much more vinyl shop customer action.”

“We barely know what’s going on. Let’s scout some info first. Hi!” He looked up at the record clerk and leaned politely on the counter. “Could my partner and I ask you a few questions about your shop here?”

The clerk, who looked like the sort of young man who thought chemistry was a ‘soft science,’ gave them a suspicious look. “Yeah…?"

“When was this store established?” 

Blank stare. Blinking. A faint perplexed look. “Uh—” 

“Jordon, what’s going on out there?” a voice called from the room behind the clerk. After a moment, a very elderly man hobbled out, squinting at the customers. “Well? What’s going on out here?”

“I was asking this— nice young man— about the history of the store?”

The old man’s face split into a wide grin. “Oh! Well, isn’t that nice of you?” A pause. “I said, isn’t that nice of him, Jordon?”

Jordon rolled his eyes. “So nice.”

The old man eagerly shook Sam’s hand. “Gordon Orgney. What can I answer for you?”

“Hold on,” Dean said, his finger swivelling between the clerk and the owner. “Your names are Gordon and Jordon?”

“He’s my uncle,” said Jordon the clerk miserably. This didn’t explain anything.

Sam cleared his throat with a look of slight annoyance. “I was wondering when the store was established?”

“1969!” said Gordon triumphantly. “I said to myself, Greenwich Village is going by the wayside, yes I did. That’s what I said to myself. I said, soon it’s going to be nothing but hipsters and artistes. Got to preserve something of the original, I said to myself. I said it.”

Sam nodded, while Jordon grew increasingly annoyed. 

“Right,” Sam said. “And has there ever been anything strange going on in the building? Any crime? Disappearances?” 

Gordon’s expression shifted instantly. “You tell your cop friends that I have nothing to do with all those bodies! It’s just a coincidence. I never even heard of them until the papers came out, and now everyone’s knocking down my door about it. It’s that damn Darnielle…” He trailed off and walked entirely away from the counter, back into his office, and locked the door. 

“Well,” said Sam. “That was quite the answer.” 

“Don’t mind him,” said Jordon. “He just hates John Darnielle. He thinks he caused all of the world’s problems with his combination Christian/Heretic music and the fact that everyone expects the store to carry his albums.” 

“Who’s John Darnielle?” 

Jordon’s eyes lit up. “You don’t know the Mountain Goats? Oh man, you’re gonna love this. Hold on, I think I have an extra tape.” He rustled around in the cash register drawer and pulled out a faded cassette tape labeled “Goat tunes.” “Got it! Here, do you have a tape player?” 

The Impala had one, so Sam nodded, but Dean narrowed his eyes. “We’re not playing that in Baby.” 

Sam elbowed him as he took the tape from Jordon. “Thank you. I’m sure it’ll be a great mix.” 

Jordon nodded and then leaned forward. “Between you and me, don’t worry about this place.” He shifted his eyes to somewhere behind them and back. “There’s nothing going on here.” 

There was no more they could get with the Brit lurking irritatingly close. They left.

“Dude, have you heard this?” Sam yelled from the Impala in their hotel roof parking lot. Dean was sitting on the hood, attempting to look laid back, but he was sliding very slowly and it didn’t really have the same effect. 

“I refuse to listen to this, Sammy.”

“It’s incredible. I mean, he’s the most brilliant lyricist in the 21st century. Have you heard his song cycle about failed love and divorce? It touches your soul.”

“I don’t relate to the concept of divorce,” said Dean. “I’m not a child of divorce.”

“But you could be a parent of divorce,” said Sam. “You never know.” 

“What are you talking about, man? I’d never get divorced.” Dean looked offended. “Marriage is about, like, love and everything.”

“Next you’ll say it’s between a man and a woman.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m not— are you sure you’re not gay?” 

“I don’t have to be gay to support gay marriage, Dean.”

“That’s not what I even— dude, you’re the one that brought it up. I hate when you find weird music. I’m going to get a coke.”

Miasma closed at 9pm on Sundays. Dean thought this was wildly optimistic for how late people would still be coming to a record store that serviced maybe three niches of music listeners total, but it gave them the cloak of night to break in. 

“There has to be an easier way to do this,” groused Dean, hanging halfway through a very small window. Below him, Sam let out an exhausted sigh. 

“Do you need me to push your legs up?”

“No! No, I don’t.” 

With a monumental amount of exertion, Dean managed to haul himself through the window and avoided breaking his neck on the way down. Sam followed with much less fanfare. The inside of the record store was not as dark as they had expected, and for a second both thought that the clerk had simply left the light on. “So, what do you figure we’re looking for, Sammy?”

That was when someone coughed with an incredible amount of sarcasm, and they discovered that the lights were in fact on because the pair of them were not the first trespassers of the night. “Come here often?” said the weird blond man from earlier that day.

“Um.” Dean exchanged looks with Sam. “This is private property.”

“Not yours, though, if I’m correct.” The man cast a look over the store. “Doesn’t seem like your scene. Well, maybe yours.” He gestured to Sam. 

“Who the hell are you?” 

“Oh, my apologies. John Constantine. You’ve never heard of me, and if you’d like to continue living your lives at an average, not dead rate, it’ll stay that way.” 

The Winchester brothers exchanged a look. It was a look that, to them, very clearly communicated the sentence: oh, this man doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into. For Sam, this was an expression of earnest concern. For Dean, it was not. “Yeah? I will say, I’m not used to getting called average.”

Constantine quirked a smile. “Okay. What are you then? Or shall I find out later?” 

“What?” Dean furrowed his brows at Constantine, then turned to Sam and continued to furrow them. “What does that mean?”

“All in good time. So tell me, why should I be so impressed with you two?”

“The several apocalypses we’ve saved you from, for one.” 

Constantine looked bemused. “Right. Anything else? We’ve all been around the apocalypse block a few times, boys.” 

“Sam and Dean Winchester,” Sam offered. He shoved Dean to the side, who was beginning to fume. “Are you a hunter?” 

“I don’t kill animals recreationally, no.”

Crossing his arms, Dean shot Constantine a look that indicated: I know you think you’re so funny, and I disagree. “Right. Well, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that over here in the good old US of A, we’ve got a good hand on any… problems.”

“A good hand, eh?”

“Uh, so, I think we’ve all gotten a bit tense here,” Sam said, turning to look at the door as though someone would enter and defuse the situation. He did not in fact expect anyone to be there, and was thus very startled to find a young man who looked like an off-brand Beatle, but slightly more whimsical. He wore a ragged black coat and an expression like he was looking behind Sam to see if the bus was coming. Sam took a step back to avoid bumping into him. “Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there.”

The young man’s eyes drifted over his face without entirely settling anywhere. “Don’t think twice, it’s alright.”

Dean gave an incredulous scoff. “What is this, your sidekick?” 

Constantine cocked his head at the same time as the young man met Dean’s eyes and said, “It ain’t me, babe.”

He stiffened. “I don’t know who you’re calling babe, pal, but it better not be me.” 

“No, I ain't lookin' to fight with you,” the man said, and opened his mouth to continue, but a voice cut in before he could say anything. 

“Don’t listen to him… I am not a fan… I try to ignore him.”

The man who had suddenly appeared in between Constantine and Dean looked a bit like a sailor, or at least what someone who had only ever heard of them from the packaging of Gorton’s fish sticks might describe as a sailor. This effect was mitigated by the fact that he was wearing cargo shorts and no shoes. Dean cursed. “Ghost! Fuck!”

“Don’t speak too soon,” said the moody young man. 

“Another Side…” the sailor said, as though it were a normal name, “...shut up...”

“Oh Christ,” said Constantine. “It’s Bob Dylan.”

“Who?” said Sam. 

“I don’t need your organization,” said Another Side of Bob Dylan, scornfully and quotatiously.

The sailor sneered at him. “You can do better than that.”

“Right.” Before anyone could say anything else incomprehensible or dramatic, Constantine spread his hands out. The overhead light flickered in accordance with his narrative importance. “If we’re all quite finished being abysmally Woodstock, I think perhaps we ought to have a little chat about this situation.”

Another Side exchanged a patronizing look with the sailor, and then raised an eyebrow at Constantine. “Something is happening here, but you don’t know what it is.”

“Shut the fuck up!” yelled Dean, who hated artists on principle. “Shut up! We’re hunting some kind of murderous ghost, and somehow I doubt that Knockoff Jimi Hendrix or— whoever the fuck you are— would haul off and beat three people to death over the last couple months, yeah?”

“I’m David Crosby…” said the apparent ghost of David Crosby.

“Who?” said Sam again. 

Constantine spun around like a cat on the prowl and stalked over to a box labelled ‘drugs,’ flipping through the records before pulling out one marked CROSBY, STILLS, NASH, AND YOUNG. He lifted it up suspiciously. “Are the rest of you in there, then?”

For a second no one responded. Then a very sad British voice said. “Croz doesn’t let us out. I haven’t seen the sun in twenty-five years… I just want to see daylight again.”

Constantine blinked. “I’m just, I’m not going to deal with that.” He put the record back and the voice faded away. 

“Is there anyone here that we can talk to, like any normal human being we can speak with?” Dean asked, exasperated. 

“Mm… Swift…” said Crosby, pointing to the box that read ‘linda please come back’. 

Dean wandered over to it with the rising suspicion that nothing good was going to come of this affair and rifled through. The only record with the name Swift on it was Taylor Swift’s ‘Red.’ 

(Dean listened to Taylor Swift with a devotion approaching religion. He did not tell this to anyone.)

It took a second for the ghost to apparate. In that time, Sam said, “Hold on, Taylor Swift isn’t dead. Or wasn’t, last time I checked.”

Dean’s heart plummeted. “God. She must have been murdered since we last read the news. That’s— that’s fine, you know, I don’t listen to Taylor Swift at all. So it’s fine.”

This was an inopportune thing to say right as the ghost of Taylor Swift manifested in front of him. Fortunately for Dean, she had eyes only for Another Side of Bob Dylan, and the eyes were very angry ones. “You!” she hissed, one finger flying out to point at him with malice. “All that time in the storage cabinet in the back of the store together when the owner accidentally ordered multiple copies of us… and now you say you won’t talk to me? How can you be so casually cruel? Do I mean nothing to you?”

Another Side held up his hands forlornly and shrugged at her. “It’s all over now, Baby Blue.”

“I’m Red! And as for the rest of you, I won’t say anything if he’s there!” In a poof, she vanished.

“Okay,” Dean said. “Anyone else?” 

“Visions of Johanna are now all that remain.” Another Side nodded as if this made perfect sense.

It took them a few minutes to track down what on earth he was talking about, because after that he got into a protracted argument with David Crosby about the best types of drugs to take right before a recording session. How he did this speaking only in lyrics was a mystery, but Crosby seemed to understand and, moreover, disagree vehemently. Finally Sam heaved a relieved sigh and lifted up an album cover. “Do you think this could be it?”

The front of the album was inked with the portrait of a woman in profile, the name “JOAN” stencilled beside her in an art nouveau font. Another Side hummed thoughtfully. 

Johanna— Joan— appeared on the stool behind the register, picking absentmindedly on a guitar. She looked up, then scanned the three non-ghosts in the room. “Oh,” she said, looking a bit skeptical. “I don’t suppose you want to interview me about my own contributions to the folk rock genre?”

“Shit! That’s Joan Baez!” Constantine opened his mouth, closed it again, and pointed in awe. “When I spent a year hanging out with hippies, all of them wanted to marry her! Hello, Joan Baez! Do you want a cigarette?”

She gave him a once-over. “From you? No.”

“Oh.” Constantine looked down. He now appeared slightly self conscious and shoved the cigarette back in his coat pocket. “I’m sorry.”

“Anyway,” said Dean, who did not know who Joan Baez was and did not care, “ma’am, would you be inclined to explain why on earth a bunch of famous ghosts are all hanging out in this piece of shit shop?”

“I mean,” she said, exchanging glances with Crosby and Another Side. “We’re folk rock musicians. Where else would we hang out?”

A new voice popped up, light and wistful. “Greenwich Village…” said a just-manifested woman who looked like what would happen if you googled ‘folk singer stock image.’

“Good point, Judy,” Joan said. “There’s always Greenwich Village.” 

“Enough about Greenwich Village!” snapped Sam, who had had enough of feeling like he wasn’t artistic enough to keep up with the conversation. He was generally the most hipster person in any given room, and the current situation was unbalancing to him. “Ms. Baez, this may come as a surprise to you, but strange things have been happening in this record shop and the fact that you— a ghost— are here is probably related. Can you tell us anything about that?”

Joan nodded. “Not really.” She frowned thoughtfully. “Well, actually, maybe I can. Can you get my guitar?” 

“What?” asked Sam. “That’s not really— you have it?” 

“No, I don’t.” The guitar that was previously in Joan’s hands was no longer there. “Are you trying to gaslight me?”

Sam wasn’t. Dean didn’t know what gaslighting was. Constantine didn’t care. “Alright, love,” he said, crossing his arms. “If we get your guitar for you, will you give us some answers about the dead bodies that have been cropping up around here?”

“Maybe so.”

Another Side coughed, breaking the spell of Joan’s intense stare. “My friend(s),” he said, effortlessly pronouncing the punctuation, “you’d better leave.”

Joan held up a peace sign and disappeared. The rest of the musicians followed suit in an instant, leaving Constantine and the Winchesters alone in the record shop. 

“Well,” said Constantine. “Shall we?”

“What, all together? Do what?”

“Find Joan Baez’ guitar. Were you not listening?” 

Dean scoffed. “I was a bit distracted by the sexy hipster chick! The one with the long hair, not the mysterious ghost.”

For a long second, both of them stared at him. “They were all ghosts, Dean,” said Sam. 

“What? Oh, fuck, nevermind, then.”

The three of them placed any records back in their extremely specifically named boxes and made their way back out of the small window onto the street.

A long while after they had gone, a dozen or so hazy figures popped back into existence inside the shop, glancing at each other nervously.

“Not good…” said Crosby, his form flickering slightly from the strain of keeping Stills, Nash, and Young imprisoned in their case. “I think… this is bad…” 

Joan Baez heaved out a sigh. “So what do we do?”

“God said to Abraham, kill me a son,” Another Side of Bob Dylan said, with a meaningful look at one particular record hanging on the wall. Its ghost was notably invisible, as he was feeling very embarrassed. 

Judy Collins favoured him with a wry smile. “Like Judas of old,” she said. She was always the only one who humoured his determination to only speak in quotes. Everyone else thought it was annoying, which it was, and nonsensical, as he did not even stick to quotes from songs on his own album. “We lie and deceive.”

“Oh… shut up…” jeered David Crosby, and no one wanted to deal with him, so one by one they faded away.

The time was 11:34pm, and the patrons of The Lonely Rabbit Bar, Disco, and Armenian Delicatessen were suffering the presence of three very confused occult detectives. They had decided that drinks were in order after the perplexing interaction they had had, and also that since neither party was inclined to give up the chase, they might as well work together. Constantine flagged down a deli worker and leaned on the glass to chat. 

“Augustus, the usual please. And a sample for the two of them.” 

Augustus nodded and slipped to the back, beginning to clean the large and very sharp looking cheese and meat slicer behind the counter. 

Dean stood uncomfortably in the area between the deli and the disco room, but not quite in bar territory. Sam was looking intently at the pickled goods in the display fridge. He had recently become quite the pickled goods enthusiast since being gifted a book on how to put things in jars and age them, and had a small pickling station running out one of the bunker’s many empty rooms. 

“So are these salt-brined or vinegar-brined? Maybe fermented?” He asked another deli worker, who stared at him like a deer. 

“I think we put them in things.” The deli worker walked away without waiting for a response. Sam looked vaguely embarrassed. 

“They’re paid minimum wage, love,” Constantine advised. “Don’t expect enthusiasm. Anyhow, since I’m being so kind as to take you to the best bar, disco, and Armenian delicatessen for at least several blocks, I think you two should tell me just who you are.”

“I don’t know what a delicatessen is,” Dean said defensively. He pointed to the writing on his hat, which read ‘Women Want Me, Demons Fear Me.’

“I see,” said Constantine, who didn’t. “What do you know?”

“Women want me, demons fear me.” He pointed to the hat again. 

“Sam,” Constantine said, turning away from Dean without comment. “What do you know?”

“Uh, I know how to handle situations like this,” Sam said, with an impressive amount of acumen. “I can assure you we can deal with a little haunting. I’m sure you have some experience, but—”

“—we have more,” Dean finished, with a smirk.

Augustus came back then, with two bags of Armenian string cheese. One of them — so massive it looked comical even next to Augustus’ 6 foot frame — he handed to Constantine. The other, a smaller but still impressively sized quantity, he handed to the Winchesters. 

“This is a token of my— friendship is a strong word. My decision to bear with the two of you. Trust me, it’s taking a lot of self-restraint. I’d appreciate it if you’d stop patronizing me.”

Dean, who had never considered a non patronizing approach to anyone, stifled a scoff. “What do we get out of bearing with you?” he said. 

Constantine pointed at the string cheese. 

Sam shrugged. “What’s the worst that can happen, Dean? He obviously knows his stuff.” He took a bite of the string cheese. “And this is remarkable.” 

“Isn’t it? Anyway, drinks are on you two.”

Neither of them quite new how to object, so they didn’t. After a long, uncomfortable silence filled with vague Armenian disco music and the sound of chewing, 

thats all we have so far. happy birthday.

love, rey and ev <3

enjoy

evelyn my dear friend evelyn. rey whos scheming mind i would know was behind this even without the signoff. i dont know what to say. the fact that this ends in the middle of a sentence. the fact that you decided the best place for the john constantine/supernatural/60s folk crossover fic was my medieval literature side blog. the presence of the orgneys. 10/10

#long post #what do i even —

[official-wayward-noctis]

Deancas Bingo - Trans Dean

Being Myself

Dean is hiding something but the others don't know.

Ao3 Link here

Cas never understood Dean Winchester. He was different from Sam and even smaller than his brother yet his soul was the kindest and he was much stronger than his brother. So when Dean asked him for help with buying groceries he didn’t think anything of it. Dean told him to grab some things as he went off so when he got done and went hunting for Dean; he didn’t expect him to be holding something close. 

“It’s nothing,” he told Cas but Cas was confused by his other friend. He didn’t ask as they got back and Dean told him to put away the food as he took care of something. Cas asked Sam if he knew what was up with Dean, Sam didn’t know either. He was very confused as well. Dean acted like nothing was wrong but Cas noticed a few things wrong in the next few days. Dean’s eating habits changed and the older Winchester male seemed to be eating more sweets. He seemed more irritated as well. Cas tried to figure it out but he couldn’t. He decided to ask Jody but she didn’t know what was up. She did come by and ask the boys if they needed anything.

“I think we are good,” Dean said as he seemed tired. Jody seemed concerned as she pulled Dean aside to talk to him. Cas and Sam didn’t understand until Jody came back and decided it was time to have all the boys sit down and talk. 

“Sam, how much do you know about your brother?” Jody asked.

“I believe I know a lot about him,” Sam said.

“Cas, how close are you to Dean?” Jody asked. 

“Very much so,” Cas said.

“Then you both know that you need to let Dean come to you both with any situation instead of coming to me. Dean is having a rough week and you both can’t figure out how to help. Maybe he doesn’t need help. Dean will ask for help if he needs it,” Jody explained. Cas and Dean nodded as the two watched Dean stay there and not say anything before Jody looked at him.

“Call me if you need anything,” Jody told him. Dean nodded as he walked to his room and decided to avoid his brother and Cas. 

~

Cas heard Dean calling out in pain and hurried to his room. Dean had something on his stomach as he cried out. He was laying on his back with his eyes closed. Cas moved closer but stopped. What should he do?

“Cas,” Dean whined and Cas was by his side asking what he could do as Dean just asked to be held. It was a weird request but Cas did as he was asked and he felt comfortable. It was nice to hold on to him and Dean seemed to relax in his arms.

“It’s normally not this bad,” Dean whined. “I rarely get them while being on T but I am this week. Why the emergency shopping trip. Dad thought it was helpful for keeping us out of the system with me not acting like my assigned birth gender but it just felt right. I always had leaned more to boy designated toys. I loved fixing cars and I never kept my hair long. I just binded until I could get surgery and then I pretended it was fine that I still had… anyways I have been on and off T for so long that I rarely get my period as much as I did before. I just sometimes couldn’t get T cause people were around or I didn’t want anyone knowing or I would forget”

“Your dad must have been supportive,” Cas said.

“Not really. He just liked how it benefited him. We never told Sammy because John was ashamed of me. Bobby knew cause I accidentally let him know and he was iffy at first but always supportive. Bobby always treated me like I was born a male instead of…” 

“Angels don’t have genders,” Cas said. “Our host might but we don’t. I have used many pronouns over the years but I never understood gender until I met you. You always are strong and proud of your gender. You aren’t the stereotype either.”

“Thanks,” Dean said. “I wish it was as easy to come out to Sammy like it is to you.” Cas nodded as Dean laid there and closed his eyes. It was weird to see Dean so relaxed but it was nice for once. 

~

Cas didn’t say anything to Sam as the other asked him if Dean told him what was wrong. Cas just acted as if Dean’s behavior was normal and that he was going to have to go for a pie run. Sam didn’t buy it but Cas was going for a pie run. Dean loved pie and needed something to cheer him up right now. The boy loved his pie better than anything else. Jack asked to go with him and he let him.

“Cas,” Jack said. Cas looked at the kid who was worried.

“Something wrong?” 

“I was reading last night and like Claire has been helpful but I think I’m nonbinary,” Jack said.

“What does that mean?” Cas asked.

“It means I used they/them pronouns and I’m not a man or woman exactly,” Jack explained. “I just don’t fall into the binary genders.” Cas nodded as he thought about Dean. Dean would know what to say. 

“I think you should let Dean know if you are comfortable. I feel he would understand better than me,” Cas said. “Angels don’t have genders. We normally use the pronouns of our host when we are in them.”

“So you are genderfluid?” Jack asked. Cas looked at the kid waiting for more. “It means you change gender. Sometimes you are one and the next day you can be another.”

“Then I believe so,” Cas said. Jack smiled and thanked him for being supportive. Cas nodded as he smiled at the kid. Jack talked about some show they were watching as Cas thought about the family. Maybe Sam used different pronouns as well then those he was born with. He didn’t know but he was glad to have this small family.

~

Dean and Cas were having lunch with Jack as Sam was out with Jody on a hunt. Dean was talking with Cas when Jack cleared his throat. 

“Dean,” Jack said.

“Yes,” Dean asked.

“I think I am nonbinary,” Jack said. Dean seemed to think about that and stopped himself from saying something and put on a smile. 

“Thank you for letting me know. What nonbinary pronouns do you use?” Dean asked.

“They/them for now,” Jack said feeling relieved. Dean seemed a bit skeptical but he was still accepting and that was all that mattered as he got Jack a teddy with the nonbinary flag on it and began referring to him with his proper pronouns after the conversation. Sam seemed confused until Cas explained that he would have to talk to Jack about it. Dean even came out to Jack and Jack seemed surprised but also proud of his father figure. So Jack and Dean had each other but Sam still wasn’t in the loop.

“Jack, why does Cas use they and them instead of using he and him?” Sam asked him.

“I’m nonbinary,” Jack said proud. He had got support from both Dean and Cas and now he was brave to admit who he was.

“There is no such thing,” Sam said. Dean froze as did Jack. Cas seemed to not understand.

“Sam,” Dean said. Sam went to argue but Dean stood up.

“Jack is nonbinary and if you can’t accept that then how can you accept me being your brother?” Dean asked.

“Dean,” Sam said.

“No, I am trans but you never needed to know that because you always just saw me as your brother. You never heard Dad insult me for being born the wrong gender or complaining about how I bleed once a month because I have female genitals. You didn’t have to deal with fighting him about me getting top surgery,” Dean said. Sam seemed to go quiet as Dean led Jack out of the room. Cas followed knowing he had a kid and his best friend to help. Dean held on to a crying Jack who didn’t understand the hardships that being non-cis represented. He didn’t have the problems of people not hating him because he had a support system around him. Later after Jack was asleep, Cas comforted Dean as Dean laid in his arms.

“Don’t leave,” Dean said when Cas thought he was asleep. Cas didn’t as he continued holding Dean well into the night. Dean woke the next morning and told Cas how he had feelings for him.

“I knew I was bi but I never accepted myself until I came out to you. You don’t have to have feelings back,” Dean touched his arm and Cas pulled up his sleeve and touched his arm. The print engrained in Dean’s arm appeared again. 

“This marks you as mine. I did it by accident but I know it pissed off Michael. We will always be connected to Dean Winchester and I think we will always be connected because we care for each other. Dean nodded as he held on to Cas with his life.

“I love you,” Dean said. He never said it before and it felt awkward on his lip but Cas smiled.

“I love you, too,” Cas said. Dean seemed to relax as they laid in each other’s arms and held onto one another. 

~

Dean saw Sam the next morning drinking coffee and researching on his computer. He looked up at his older brother and seemed to think before he spoke.

“I knew Dad always treated you differently but I didn’t know it was because you were born…” Sam didn’t finish. “What was…” Dean stopped him.

“I am not telling you my dead name nor does it matter. My name is Dean and it always has been. I’m your older brother and that is all that matters,” Dean said. 

“Cool. I will find time to apologize to Jack. It’s hard sometimes to remember how Dad reacted when we were kids. I never knew you had to deal with that,” Sam said. 

“Bobby always made sure I got what I needed. He bought my first binder that was more comfortable and made hunting a bit easier,” Dean said.

“It was how you knew Ben wasn’t yours right away,” Sam said.

“Can’t have kids with a woman,” Dean said. 

“Luckily you only have Jack that you co-raise with Cas,” Sam said.

“Cas is also my partner,” Dean informed Sam. Sam took a moment and nodded. He seemed to not say anything else until Jack came down and he apologized to the boy. 

“If it makes you better I had trouble with it at first but I remembered that gender identity is just what someone else chooses,” Dean explained. Sam seemed to nod as he asked Jack some questions and tried to be more open to the kid. Cas held Dean’s hand as Dean felt more comfortable in his skin for once in his life. 

#dean winchester #deancas #destiel #castiel #trans dean winchester #supernatural #jack kline #sam wincehster #jody mills

[according-to-the-laura]

StackedNatural Day 174: 3x15, 8x22

StackedNatural Masterpost: [x]

May 8, 2022

3x15: Time Is on My Side

Written by: Sera Gamble

Directed by: Charles Beeson

Original air date: May 8, 2008

Plot Synopsis:

Sam and Dean discover a doctor who, back in 1816, became obsessed with finding the secret of eternal life by taking people's vital organs. Meanwhile, Bobby finds Bela and Dean leaves Sam to confront her.

Features:

Organ theft, some pre-season 4 demon torture, Doc Benton, chasing immortality, Rufus’ introduction, Sam hunting alone, Bela’s backstory, the maintenance of eternal life, Sam’s eyes almost getting scooped out, the Ma’lak box precursor, Bela's deal coming due.

My Thoughts:

I forgot about the monster plot of this episode and I was initially so annoyed that they were doing a monster of the week episode right before Dean’s deal came due. Honestly having the A-plot be an immoral immortality plot is perfect and really showcases the differences between Sam and Dean’s ethics in an interesting way. Dean is very black and white when it comes to what makes a monster, whereas Sam lives more in the grey and is able to see nuance. Dean’s problem with letting Doc Benton teach him the formula isn’t that it would be letting the Doc get away with it - it’s that it would turn him into a monster, whereas we know that Sam has felt unclean and monstrous his entire life anyways. 

Watching Dean’s scene with Rufus is kind of depressing post-series-finale. All of Rufus’ pessimism comes true. 

The thing I’m most salty about right now is that Bela never came back as a demon. They’ve already set up that that’s what’s going to happen to Dean, so we know it will happen to her, and Dean literally said “I’ll see you in hell” to her. What a missed opportunity. 

Notable Lines:

“Even if you manage to scrape out of this one, there's just gonna be something else down the road. Folks like us...there ain't no happy ending. We all got it coming.”

Laura’s (completely subjective) Episode Rating: 8.6

IMdB Rating: 8.5

8x22: Clip Show

Written by: Andrew Dabb

Directed by: Thomas J. Wright

Original air date: May 8, 2013

Plot Synopsis:

Sam and Dean try to figure out how to cure a demon. Crowley starts killing victims that Sam and Dean have saved from previous jobs. Castiel and Metatron begin the trials to close the gates to Heaven.

Features:

Tommy from Wendigo, Dean giving Cas the silent treatment, the discovery of the Bunker’s dungeon, weird with three exclamation points, Cas’ shopping trip, how to kill a demon, a Nephilim I completely forgot about, Handy Annie, Jenny from Shut Up Dr Phil,  Sarah Blake from Provenance, Sam’s martyr complex getting the fuel it needs.

My Thoughts:

I didn’t remember much about this episode except for Sarah Blake (I really thought I remembered her living though), but this is a great episode! Crowley is really an excellent villain in this, he makes everything so personal and that makes the stakes way higher. In contrast, Abaddon has a great aesthetic, but her motives are too generically evil to make her a good villain. The only real qualm I have with this episode is that it makes no sense as an excuse to bring her back. Cutting her up and burying her in separate pieces was such a cool way to deal with a monster that they couldn’t kill that it’s a shame to bring her back to be unceremoniously stabbed by a new, stronger knife. Also, they should have summoned a weaker demon to cure. They already know that Abaddon is way stronger than the average demon, it’s way too big a swing for their first demon cure. Society if Meg or Ruby had been alive to be cured. 

The pacing is kind of weird with the Heaven trials, although I’m not sure there’s a way around that - if we met Metatron earlier it would mess up the timing of the Hell trials. It’s so weird to remember that there was briefly a Nephilim. I wish the moral dilemma of killing her had been explored more - as foreshadowing that the Heaven trials are not as straightforwardly righteous as they seem at first glance. 

Cas and Dean’s argument in this episode is honestly so understandable and human, something I feel like we can’t say 90% of the time that they’re fighting. Dean is hurt after having been vulnerable and it blowing up in his face. The last time they spoke he told Cas he needed him, and now he’s telling Cas he doesn’t, so Cas feels like he’s worthless because he can’t help. Also insanely brutal to watch this fight where Dean says Cas always thinks he’s doing the right thing immediately after watching The Man Who Would Be King.

Notable Lines:

“Dean, I thought I was doing the right thing.” “Yeah, you always do.”

“If anybody else – I mean anybody – pulled that kind of crap, I would stab them in their neck on principle. Why should I give him a free pass?” “Because it’s Cas.”

“You don’t understand. I NEED pie.”

“There was a time when I thought I could lead our people, but I was mistaken. I spilled so much blood. And I've tried to atone for my sins and I did penance. And I betrayed my friends to protect our secrets, but I've just failed.”

“I think the people you save, they're how you justify your pathetic little lives. The alcoholism, the collateral damage, the pain you've caused – the one thing that allows you to sleep at night, the one thing is knowing that these folks are out there, still out there happy and healthy because of you, you great, big, bloody heroes!”

Laura’s (completely subjective) Episode Rating: 9.2

IMdB Rating: 8.6

In Conclusion: Today’s theme is the clock hitting midnight.

<< Previous Day  |  Next Day >>

#Stackednatural #supernatural #spn #3x15 #Time Is on My Side #8x22 #Clip Show

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 131

Frontierland/Flesh and Stone

“Frontierland”

Plot Description: Sam and Dean are sent back in time to the Wild West so they can meet Samuel Colt and asking for his help in defeating Eve

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: I don’t think I’d find myself in 1860s Wyoming…much less in a shootout there

I literally cannot with this show sometimes. WE UNSANK AND RESANK THE TITANIC YESTERDAY. CAN WE LEAVE THE TIME TRAVEL TO THE LAST OF THE TIME LORDS PLEASE. Like…remember when, aside from the existence of monsters, this show had any roots in reality? It’s still fun as…well, hell is demonstrably NOT fun. But it is solidifying itself as the “put that guy in situations” show

Y’all are both some NERDS (affectionate). Geeking out about having access to Samuel Colt’s journal. Also the fact that Dean knows as much as he does about Star Trek????? Hello??

Is she (the angel Cas sent) wrong though?? Do they not only call Cas when they need something??? While he’s fighting a war in heaven??? I get they can’t exactly reciprocate helping him out but damn

Dean 🤝 Sokka: older brothers who enjoy three things: meat, sarcasm, and shopping. Dean just went on a whole spree for their 24 hour trip to 1860s Wyoming

Oh…this isn’t going at all how you planned. You were so excited to be in the old west, and then you get immediately made fun of

You could have been anyone. You could have been just yourself, but you had to go and be Clint Eastwood, didn’t you? And then made Sam Walker Texas Ranger, which is…wild to hear in 2023 from whenever this episode aired

Can’t tell if the guy the town hanged was the phoenix because he told the people physically close to him they’d all burn for this or if that was a blatant red herring

I was right. It was just foreshadowing. At the same time, the commitment this show has to making monsters look like just some guy…

Sam, Dean’s having a hard time with not fitting in here, let him have his “posse magnet” and “I love posse” jokes just got now

Aw not Rachel. I liked her…oh god, Cas. Noooo.

Dean’s the sheriff now??

Somehow, Sam was the right person to send to go get Samuel Colt, but in the weirdest way possible. Like, told him he was from 2011 and then handed over his iPhone or whatever as proof

Good thing Castiel came to with an hour left in the boys’ excursion

Excuse me?? What have you two been doing for almost a full hour?? There’s two minutes left, your conversation about how the only way to heal Castiel enough so he can go retrieve the boys was to touch Bobby’s soul only took a couple minutes.

There really are too many people ACTUALLY burning to death in the shows I watch. It’s not fair to me personally.

Love it when they do something for a whole episode and it’s seemingly for absolutely nothing

Ah yes. The classic surprise delivery from the past trope. The “this has been sitting around the post office for so long we thought it was a joke. It’s real??”

“Been On My Mind…”: No. 3?

"Flesh and Stone"

Plot Description: The Doctor and his friends are forced to escape through the forest vault after they are surrounded by the Weeping Angels.

The Doctor keeps telling them to not take their eyes of the Angels, and what do they keep on doing?? NOT LOOKING AT THE ANGELS

(I really need to stop waiting so long to watch this...because...it's just not good for my ability to pay attention, not that there's a lot to comment on yet. They're just running from the Angels)

...I don't remember why Amy keeps counting down...

Oh, Amy, if you think a forest on a spaceship is cool, wait til you see DINOSAURS on a spaceship

Fuck...the Angels are making Amy do the count down because its FUN for them. Goddamn.

I'd be acting so much more scared than Amy is in her position. She has to rely on everyone else to not blink while she's not allowed to open her eyes. She's been left by the Doctor again, and not even River can stay with her.

It's a beautiful shot, but it's also so sad...Amy, completely abandoned in the forest, not able to open her eyes, and the Angels trying to close in. Every time she tries to get someone to stay, they leave.

How did Eleven get the reputation of being the silly goofy Doctor?? The way he has scarily yelled in just about every episode so far…

The angels were scarier when we never saw them move.

Well that’s taken care of the angels and the wall crack……..for now

I do love the pandorica stuff…those are some really good episodes

“If you like” is probably the best response to “can I trust you?” I just really love River

I just…really don’t love that last scene between Amy and the Doctor 😐

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023

[sorrybrooutofstockrn]

A gift from afar

Rated: G

Pairing: Castiel/Sam Winchester, Sabriel (if you squint)

Summary: Gabriel teaches Sam how to make a snowman, Sam wants to give something for Castiel.

Sam doesn't tell Castiel that he is from hell and that his father is Azazel, a literal demon, he lies and say that he left home to avoid his father's wrath, Castiel understood perfectly.

"So you got in trouble for what?"

"I talked back to him, we were discussing me having friends, he doesn't like them, says they are peasants and unworthy of my attention."

"So you come from a wealthy family?"

"Yeah, you could say that"

"So, where do you live? Is it close? Can i take you back home after the rain stops?."

"I..."

There is a map over there, USA states, California, Florida, Texas, Ohio, Sam looked back at Castiel and pointed at the map.

"Ohio"

"Ohio? There is very far away, how did you end up here?"

"Um..."

"Hey Cassie! What's up?"

"Gabriel, welcome back."

"Who is this tall, handsome guy?"

"This is Sam, he is not from here, it's raining outside so i brought him here."

"Sam..."

Why is he looking at me like this? Does he know i'm not from earth?, Sam wondered

"You are not from earth, are you Sam?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I was getting into this conclusion, Sam, you can tell the truth, we won't hurt you."

"I–I don't..."

I should just tell the truth, Sam concluded

"You are right, i'm not from earth but i'm not an alien, i'm human but not entirely human"

"Not entirely human?"

"Yeah, i'm different"

"Interesting, well your curiosity about the rabbit in your lap made me wonder if you know about earth's creatures, weather and etc."

"I know about rain, sometimes i can hear lightning from my bedroom, rain is the only weather i know about."

"What about snow?"

"Gabriel, don't–"

"C'mon kiddo, let me show you what snow looks like!"

Snow, it makes Sam cold, Gabriel gave him a scarf and a coat to warm him, meanwhile Castiel was freezing, rubbing his hands together, people need protection against't harsh temperatures, "I should give him something to warm him" Sam thought

"And that's how you make a snowman! Last thing, the nose, take this carrot and put on his face!"

"Like this?"

"Yeah! Just like this! You made a huge snowman!"

"Or maybe you are just too short for this snowman."

"Hey, not cool Samsquatch!"

"He is right Gabriel, you are too short"

"Cassie!"

While Castiel and Gabriel had their banter, Sam felt his scarf being pulled off, someone was there, probably a demon "Playtime is over, time to go back home your highness" the demon said

"Yeah, i think it is..."

Sam gave one last look at Castiel, he sneezed and Gabriel laughed, he is going to get sick if he continues unprotected from the cold.

"Once we are back at hell, bring me a knit kit"

Back at home, back in his cage, Sam sat on his bed and took a look at the yellow fluffy fabric on his hand, yeah, he could work with that. For the next fifteen days, Sam spend his time knitting a scarf, a yellow and black one, colors that resembled a bee. On day 15th, Sam carefully folded the scarf into a gift box and sticked honeypots stickers on the box, he looked at his closet and found winter clothes, Crowley bought for him after discovering his little trip to earth, Crowley was amazingly sweet and gentle to him, he took him to visit earth and experience its weather, taste new food and buy things that he liked. Now Crowley dropped him in front of a candy shop, Gabriel was inside, Castiel is probably in there too.

"Ohh if isn't our not so human friend Sam, what are you doing here?"

"Is Cas here?"

"He's talking to Deano right now, do you want to wait?"

"..."

I shouldn't bother them, Sam thought

"No, tell him this is for him, here's my number, please tell him to text me."

"I surely will."

"Thank you, Gabe."

"Something to warm you, bee careful, don't stay in the cold for too long, love you take care-Sam"

#supernatural #spn #sastiel #sabriel #mini fic #fluff #sam winchester #castiel #gabriel

[harrysweasleys]

under the tree // d.w

summary: surprising dean with a little family christmas

warnings: language?

word count: 1.1k

a/n: merry christmas guys!! hope you’re all safe and happy, love u xxxx (gif credit @mishacollinss)

[i do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any platform]

Dean wasn’t one to keep tradition.

Well, that’s not true. Not exactly.

He loved using his traditional hunting methods, loved his post-hunt traditions of cracking open a beer with Sam and kicking his feet up on the couch. And then most likely passing out with a good snore. Those were traditions that he liked.

But holidays? They weren’t really his thing.

Not that he didn’t like them, but because he barely had time to keep up with the days and the over-the-top decorations that came with most of them.

Except you loved Christmas.

So, while Sam and Dean were out on a hunt with Jack, you took it upon yourself to decorate the bunker the best you could. Obviously, with help. Cas had helped you get a tree and some gifts — not all of them were bought, but that’s a secret no one had to know — while you got some string lights and some Christmas dinner groceries. A turkey, some peas, mashed potatoes, stuff of the like.

You had been a bit bummed that Dean had left for a hunt on Christmas Eve, but you knew he’d be careful and that he’d be quite surprised upon returning. Which was hopefully in an hour or two.

You shoved all of the groceries into the fridge after your shopping trip, so you could rely on the brothers to cook the meal tomorrow while you sat on your ass and watched some cheesy, romcom holiday classics.

The final touches were being put up around the house, the lights lazily taped around the posts and the slightly lopsided tree sitting nicely on top of the table. You thought it would be more noticeable on top of the table, yes.

Cas was currently fiddling with the lights while you placed the gifts perfectly under the tree, bows and sparkly wrapping paper twinkling like the night sky.

“We did one hell of a job, Cas,” you grinned at the angel, crossing your arms over your chest with a smile on your face, “Thanks for the help.”

He nodded, coming to stand next to you while you admired the tree, “Don’t mention it. It’s nice of you to do this for them. They’re lucky to have you.”

“And I’m lucky to have you,” you poked him in the shoulder, giving him a wink, “Who else could have teleported in and out of a store with a few stolen items, huh?”

Castiel let out an awkward laugh, “No one needs to know about that.”

“It’ll be our little secret, don’t worry.”

He shook his head and let out a laugh, probably realizing how absurd it was that he just went around store to store, appearing and disappearing with his arms full of stuff. You had given him a list of things to get — but the miscommunication had led to the fact that he thought you were asking him to steal. It was a funny mistake, and one that really didn’t matter right now.

“What do you say we go throw on a movie and wait for them to arrive, huh?” You grinned, nudging your head in the direction of the laptop sitting on the table, a now-empty mug of hot chocolate sitting next to it.

He nodded, and the two of you made your way to sit down, finding a quick movie on Netflix and letting it play.

You were thankful the entrance door was so loud because you had been out cold two seconds ago — meaning you would have completely missed Dean coming home.

Instantaneously, you sat up on your chair, feeling an ache in your back from where you had been slumped over on the table.

How long were you asleep?

You pushed back the chair and stood up, a sleepy smile on your face while you watched Sam and Dean make their way down the stairs.

“Well, well, what’s all this?” Sam’s voice echoed through the bunker, and you could hear the smile through his voice.

Dean stepped down, his hair a little dishevelled and his flannel shirt no longer buttoned up, but despite his exhaustion he looked around the room in awe.

“Merry Christmas!” you rushed up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck before he even had the chance to process the fact that you were running towards him.

He hugged you back immediately, “Oh, man. Did you guys do all of this?”

“Yup,” you nodded, pressing a quick kiss to the underside of his jaw before pulling back, motioning your arms around the room, “With Cas’ help, though. I told him he was so helpful that he’s going to be the angel on top of the tree.”

Dean didn’t seem to be listening, his eyes wide and a small smile on his face as he glanced around the room, hand pressed against your lower back. You knew this meant a lot to him — going out of your way to do something special.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” you leaned up, pressing a quick kiss against his lips.

“I can’t believe you did all of this,” he mumbled against your mouth, eyes so glazed over with love you thought he might just suck you into his arms and never let go, “I love you. So damn much.”

“I love you too,” you grinned, “We deserve a good Christmas, don’t we?”

“Damn right we do!” Sam’s voice came from the other side of the bunker, making his way over to the stairs that led down into the kitchen.

“And look,” you pointed under the tree, “I guess Santa thought you were good this year.”

Dean let out a chuckle, bringing his hand up quickly to wipe his eye. You pretended you didn’t see it, keeping your eyes locked onto the glittering tree, but you did. And it made your own eyes begin to sting just a tad. He held onto you from behind, resting his chin on top of your head.

“If Santa knew what I wanted, he’d have you sitting prettily under the tree with a little bow on your head,” you laughed at his comment, resting your head against his chest, “I still can't believe you did this,” he repeated into your ear, even though both Sam and Cas had taken off to the kitchen to give you guys a moment. Which was very dearly appreciated.

You turned around, wrapping your arms around his waist, “It’s about time we decorated this place. Cement walls and dingy tile floors? That’s not Christmas,” you smirked, “Christmas is perfect when it’s you, me, and oh, would you look at that…”

Your gaze lifted towards the ceiling, grinning as the small strand of mistletoe that was taped to the cement beam finally got noticed by your boyfriend.

“You’re unbelievable,” Dean shook his head, not missing a single second before his lips were on yours. You were so lost in his embrace that you swore your feet lifted off of the ground. His lips were soft, contrasted to his calloused hands gripping the sides of your face. That familiar fluttery feeling erupted in your belly as he pulled you closer, lips dancing together as if you were completely alone in the world.

The moment felt unreal — the love, the magic of the holidays, it was just so perfect. You wished it would last forever.

However, the moment was rudely cut short when Sam’s heavy footsteps came back into the room, a carton of eggnog in hand and bowl of popcorn in the other. He threw a piece at the two of you when he placed it down on the table, causing Dean to roll his eyes.

“Come on, lovebirds, let’s go watch a movie.”

#dean winchester imagine #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester reader insert #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester one shots

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

Dean wakes up to the sound of a very insistent five-year-old saying, in a poorly concealed whisper, “Papa. Papa! Wake up!”

Despite the fact that it’s probably six in the morning and Dean’s supposed to be asleep right now (long weeks at the auto shop always knock him out), he pulls himself out of bed and pads around to the other side of his bed, where Jack is standing, poking Cas’ face. 

Dean crouches down to Jack’s level. “Papa’s sick, remember?”

Jack looks down at his feet. “He has the flu.”

“Yeah, he has the flu.” Dean holds out his arms. “But Daddy can play with you instead.”

Jack sighs and lets himself be picked up. 

Dean knows that he can't quite replicate Cas and Jack’s special Saturday mornings together, but he can sure as hell try. The two of them always watch Plaza Sésamo, the Spanish version of Sesame Street, together, because language learning needs to start at a young age, Dean, and Jack has a mug of warm milk so he can be just like his Papa with coffee. 

(Leave it to Dean to marry an elementary school librarian.) 

Then, they make pancakes, which usually gets Dean to actually wake up and join them. After that, they go to the farmer’s market. 

And every Saturday is perfect.

But two days ago, after spending eight hours with snotty-nosed kids, Cas came home more exhausted than usual and then promptly passed out on the couch. One trip to the doctor later and it was confirmed--Cas had the flu. 

Which means that Dean’s gotta figure this whole “morning thing” out.

"What do you want to watch, Jack?” he asks, and Jack shakes his head. 

“I wanna color.”

“Alright.” Less time in front of the television is totally cool with Dean. He sets them up at the kitchen table, rummaging around on the bookshelf next to it until he finds the stack of recycled paper that they use for Jack to color and the box of crayons and markers. 

While Jack sets about drawing (there are several of his drawings from school stuck to the fridge--studies in crayon with Daddy and Papa and also Uncle Sam and Aunt Eileen and Grandma written on them in Jack’s kindergarten teacher’s neat handwriting), Dean makes coffee, and then decides to also make Cas some tea for whenever he actually wakes up and also to heat up some milk for Jack.

By the time he gets back to the table, Muppets in Space mug with warm milk in it in one hand and his coffee in a mug shaped like a spark plug that Cas got him because he thought it was funny in the other, Jack has used several sheets of paper, and Dean bends over him.

“Whatcha drawing?” Dean asks, and Jack tries to hide the paper with his tiny arms.

“It’s a secret,” he says. “You have to wait ‘til I'm finished.”

“Okay, okay.” Dean sets the milk down and then sits next to Jack, grabbing a piece of paper of his own. He’s halfway through drawing some sorta-realistic flowers (Cas has a big garden in their backyard that he loves to work in when he’s not, you know, actively dying of the flu), Jack is finished and poking Dean’s arm.

“Look,” Jack says, shoving his drawing at Dean. “I’m just like you, Daddy!”

It’s a drawing of a car, with two stick figures holding clumsily drawn wrenches standing next to it. 

“It’s you and me,” Jack adds. “We’re gonna fix the car.” He studies Dean’s face. “Do you like it?”

“I love it, kiddo.” Dean mashes Jack into a hug until Jack wiggles in protest, and then Dean tickles him, getting a laugh out of his son.

Later, while Jack is occupied with choosing between strawberries and blueberries for pancakes, Dean heads upstairs with the aforementioned mug of tea. Cas is sitting up when he gets to their room, with the comforters bunched around him, and he lets out a feeble cough.

“How’s Jack?” Cas asks, gratefully accepting the tea and taking a sip. 

“He’s great. We colored.”

“Oh good.” Cas coughs again. “Can you make sure to--”

“Get kale at the farmer’s market? Already on the list.”

“And more honey from--”

“The Turners?”

Cas smiles at him tiredly. “Hopefully later I can--”

“You can sleep later is what you can do. I’ve got this under control.” Dean presses a kiss to his husband’s forehead and turns to leave. “Although Jack and I will bring you breakfast in bed.”

“Can I put in a vote for strawberries?” Cas asks.

“I’ll see what the boss says.” Dean grins and then heads out, gently shutting the door behind him.

So maybe he’s not a morning person, and this isn’t a usual Saturday in the Winchester household. 

But sometimes, unusual can be kind of nice. 

#DID I RIP OFF THE PLAZA SÉSAMO PART FROM CHILDHOOD MEMORIES WITH MY DAD???? ABSOLUTELY!!! WE DID THAT EVERY SATURDAY MORNING #userstarry #cillabee #flowersforcastag #usershey #offbeatwrites

[icefire149]

Prompt: Frog

For Liv's 1 Year Celebration!!! Spiritually I'm lighting off sparklers and waving them around in celebration! @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie

Like The Fairy Tales - (1,238 words)

"Hey, we got a problem."

Rowena rolled her eyes and leaned back in her arm chair. Until the phone rang, she had been enjoying a rare afternoon at home with her favorite blend of tea and a new journal to fill. She sighed loudly.

"It's never a 'how do you do, Rowena? 'Or a 'thank you so much for the gracious help you provided on the case. Do you need a restock on any of your fine herbs?' Instead it's always help, help, help." She snapped her fingers for added emphasis.

To her surprise, he didn't bark back like usual. The line was suspiciously quiet, and then faintly she heard another voice in the background.

"She has a point, Dean. You and Sam can be quite demanding."

"I thought saving people was thanks enough! I didn't realize I needed to be sending out muffin baskets every time we call in a favor."

The corners of Rowena's mouth curled in amusement. "You should learn a thing or two from the handsome angel." There was an audible hitch in Dean's breathing at that. Her grin widened. "And since you so kindly made the suggestion, I'd like an apple cinnamon muffin basket."

"Yeah, okay. Whatever you want," Dean rambled, trying to keep his cool. "Make a list. If you fix Sam, you can have any baked goods you want."

"What's wrong with Samuel?" Rowena sat up attentively in her chair.

"We wrapped up the case we were working on, ganked the witch, but then Mr. Bull-Moose-In-A-China-Shop over here knocked over some bottles of who knows what, and now….he's a frog."

"What?" The word tumbled out of her mouth in disbelief. Of all the things to be calling about this was a million miles away from what she was anticipating.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled. "He's a real prince char-SONOFABITCH." Dean's voice grew distant from the phone. "Screw you, you...you frog bitch. Jack! Don't let Sammy leave the room."

"He bit me," Dean continued, addressing Rowena this time. "I can't believe he did that....anyways, is this something in your wheelhouse to fix? Cas isn't sure where to begin to make him human again."

Rowena blinked, slowly her shock began to wear off. "Yes," she answered finally. "I'm sure once I get a look at the spell I can figure something out. Did you happen to save any of the potion?" She stood up and began gathering her things. "Even the teeny tiniest drop can make all the difference."

"Yeah," Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "We saved some in a paper cup."

"Good," Rowena nodded. Already, she was compiling a list of spells in her brain. Walking over to her pantry, she started pulling several ingredients. "I'll be there in a few hours."

"Good," Dean answered almost unfocused. After a short pause he asked, "So he'll be okay, right? You can fix him?"

"There's no need to worry a single hair on your head," Rowena answered sweetly. She crossed her apartment to grab the right bag for her trip. "Samuel will be back to his charming self in no time."

"Thank you."

Rowena nearly dropped everything in her hands. Stunned, she froze in place. "Dean Winchester, was that a note of sincerity I heard? My, I never thought I'd see the day."

It was far too easy to imagine the way the older Winchester must've been squirming. Her grin stretched ear to ear. "Feel free to try to break the spell before I get there though."

"If it was that easy I wouldn't have called."

"Tisk, tisk. There's no imagination in that pretty little head of yours. The old stories have a very simple remedy for this exact problem."

"I ain't kissing his warty ass!"

Rowena chuckled, "I don't think I've heard that particular fairy tale."

/

Jack was the one waiting for her by the door when she arrived. He led her into the kitchen where everyone else was waiting. Hiding her grin behind one of her hands, Rowena chuckled at the bunker’s mild state of chaos.

Dean was standing over the sink, gargling mouth wash and tightly holding a toothbrush in his fist.

Jack leaned in close to her side and whispered, “I told Dean he had to try, because this had to be like the ending to Frozen but-” The nephlim’s shoulders drooped. “-it didn’t work. So then I tried and nothing happened either.”

“There, there-” Rowena said soothingly and brushing a stray curl of hair out of Jack’s face. “-I’ll get Sam back to his old self. I brought more than enough remedies to try.”

Her confidence put a bright smile on the nephilim’s face.

Disgusted, Dean spit in the sink and turned to say something to Cas when he noticed them standing there. “Oh.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re here.”

“And I see that the Frozen method didn’t work,” Rowena sniped back with a mischievous grin.

Dean rolled his eyes and opened the bottle of mouthwash again. He poured more into his mouth like he was drinking a beer.

Rowena laughed and turned her attention to Cas. He was seated at the table holding a large bullfrog in the palms of his hands. His brow pinched together seriously as he stared at the frog.

"I'm so sorry, Sam,” he said. “I care about you very much, but I don't think anything I'd do would be potent enough to be classified as true love." After a short pause he nodded solemnly. “I knew you’d understand.” And only then did the angel’s gaze find it’s way to the witch.

The corner of Rowena’s mouth curled as she raised a hand and waved. “Hello, tweetie pie.”

“Hi,” Cas answered looking somewhat bewildered. He held the frog out towards her. “Sam would appreciate it if you’d quickly put him back to his usual species. He’s getting hungry.”

Rowena raised an eyebrow and crossed the space between them. She bent down so that she was eye to eye with the frog. “Well, Samuel….you’ve gotten yourself into quite the pickle.”

The frog blinked at her, and then Rowena stood up straight. She held her hands out and he hopped into them. The weight and texture had her grimacing immediately. Shaking her head she said, “Hmm, now where to begin?”

“You should give it a try,” Jack suggested.

“Hmm?” Surprised she glanced up from the frog and turned towards Jack.

The nephilim stared at her carefully, and then he smiled. “Kiss him.”

“Yeah, it was your bright idea,” Dean cut in from the sink. He spit toothpaste out and then pointed his toothbrush at her. “So pucker up, it’s your turn. Then you can try your magic mumbo jumbo.”

“I hardly doubt-”

“He likes you,” Jack said simply. “It could work.”

Looking back at Sam, she could feel a light blush rising in her cheeks, but she paid it little mind. “Well, you heard the wee lad.” Rowena winked. “I can’t go disappointing him.”

She planted a kiss on the frog’s head and instantly a cloud of magic fog filled the kitchen. The weight of the bullfrog was replaced by the rough callus of fingertips, and then a gentle squeeze.

When the air cleared, Sam was standing there holding her hand. He was human again, and you could’ve fried an egg on his face from how red it was burning. Awkwardly, he raised his free hand and waved. “Thanks.”

#spn #samwena #rowena macleod #blueecpcelebration #my writing #i'm posting this at 3am because i couldn't wait another second. this was so much fun to write #i hope you're okay with the rowena focus. i'm aiming for destiel tomorrow #but this little fic is the last thing i had somewhat prepared so i'll have to wait and see how writing goes later today

[pinknatural]

(ao3)

Sometime after Cas gets his grace back, but before Dean knows that the angel riding his brother’s meatsuit is Gadreel, not Ezekiel, Dean finds himself in a pawn shop. Generally, he finds himself in pawn shops pretty often--not as often as like, someone who deals in pawns, but more often than the average person, Dean thinks. 

He’s there to see if they’ve got any guns for cheap, since he basically always needs more guns. None of the ones at that shop strike his fancy, so he walks around and looks at the other things. Browsing. Just in case--he has a house (well, a Bunker, but same thing) now, and maybe he should decorate. Maybe.

Dean passes by the jewelry without much more than a cursory glance, then he doubles back and stares. There’s a ring--a twisted band of white gold and silver, and something about it… It’s not something Dean would wear. He’s not sure what about the ring compels him, but he feels like Gollum as he looks at it and knows he needs it. What for, he has no idea.

Dean buys it. He doesn’t wear it, but sticks it in a flat little box originally meant for a bracelet and slides it into his jacket pocket. 

And he carries it, jacket pocket to jacket pocket, for years. He doesn’t tell anybody about it, but he gets into the habit of patting his chest to make sure it’s still there. Even when he’s a demon-- Crowley goes through Dean’s clothes one day, when Dean’s laying on the motel room bed naked, and he finds the box. 

“What’s this?” Crowley asks, and the First Blade is in Dean’s hand before he can process the movement. The First Blade is in Dean’s hand a lot, these days. 

“Open that and I’ll kill you,” Dean says, looking at Crowley dead in the eye so he knows that Dean isn’t fucking kidding, and Crowley stares back for a minute before he tosses the box aside and goes back into Dean’s pocket. He pulls out a condom, and the box is quickly forgotten. 

Anyway. The ring is there, in Dean’s pocket. It stays there. It’s there when Dean kills the Stynes, when he meets Amara, when he hugs his mom for the first time in thirty years. It’s there when he goes to the Apocalypse World, and the Bad Place, and Purgatory (again). 

And it’s there in that fucking dungeon, when Cas puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder and looks him in the eyes, smiling and crying. Dean feels it, burning a hole in his pocket, as Cas says things like most loving man in the whole world and you changed me and and one thing I want is something I know I can’t have and I love you and, worst of all, goodbye, Dean.

And Dean sits there, sobbing into his palms, and he knows what the ring was for.

--

Dean wraps one hand around an angel blade and curls the other into a fist. He nods at Sam, then Eileen, then he leaps into the dark pit on the wall that haunts his nightmares. 

The Empty is dark and, well, empty. His footsteps echo like he’s on a marble floor, but as far as Dean can tell there’s no difference between the walls and floor and ceiling. It’s just black. 

Dean tightens his grip on his angel blade, and he finds the first body. 

It’s a man in a grey coat. Dean doesn’t recognize him, and he keeps walking. 

Dean sees a woman in a leather jacket, a man wearing a torn polo shirt, and a woman dressed like a lounge singer. He sees a child in a pink dress and a man in a black sweater. Then there’s a fan of red hair, and Dean falters. 

Anna lays in the Empty, hair scattered around her head. Her eyes are closed and her chest moves slowly, as if in a deep, deep sleep. Dean swallows, heavy, and keeps walking. Next time, he thinks. Next time he’ll wake everyone.

The next body he sees is another unknown--old man in a brown blazer--but the one after that is someone familiar. Dean squints, decides it’s one of the douche angels he or his brother has killed over the years.

The body after that one is Ruby, and Dean gives her a wide berth. Then it’s Balthazar and Lilith and Hannah. Uriel and Raphael, Hester and Samandriel. Dagon and Ramiel. Azazel.

Alastair.

Dean keeps walking. For every body he recognizes, laying in a coma-like sleep, there’s four or five more that he’s never seen before. Some of them look vaguely familiar, like a demon he ran into once or Background Angel #5. 

Dean walks by Ishim right before he walks by Meg, and the next couple are random demons Dean vaguely remembers from his own time as one. Dean nearly trips over his own face, then he hustles to keep away from the alternate Michael. 

He’s not sure what he’ll do if he runs into Crowley. Not sure at all. But--

in the distance, a trench coat. 

Dean sprints, slides to his knees. Cups Cas’s face with his hand, leans in close. 

“Wake up,” he murmurs. “Wake up, Cas. Come on.”

Cas doesn’t stir. 

Dean shakes him. 

“Wake up, man,” he says. 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” a voice says, and Dean looks up to see a vaguely humanoid shaped black blob of goo. It crosses it’s arms. “You can’t be here.”

“I’m getting him back,” Dean tells it. “I’m taking him home.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” the Shadow asks. “He’s mine.” 

“No, he’s not,” Dean says.

“What do you mean?” the Shadow asks, tilting its head. Dean considers throwing his knife at it. “We had a deal, and now he is here, and he belongs to me. Fully and completely.”

“Fuck you,” Dean says. “He’s not yours, he’s mine, and I’m taking him home.”

And with that, Dean presses the tip of his angel blade to Cas’s throat. His grace spills out like smoke, spreading through the air, and Cas’s eyes open and he gasps. The Shadow shrieks. 

“No!” it wails. “You can’t do this!”

“I already did, asshole,” Dean spits, and then the last of Cas’s grace evaporates, and Dean grabs onto Cas’s arm, and everything goes white, then black. 

Then Dean’s on the library floor, and he stares up at the Bunker’s golden lighting for a moment before turning to face Cas. 

“Cas!”

“Dean,” Cas says. He’s still laying on the ground, and he props himself on his elbows. “What happened?”

“I got you out,” Dean says. He laughs. Cas is looking at him with wide blue eyes, and Dean feels like he might start to cry. Instead, he throws himself at Cas, tucks his face into Cas’s neck, holds him tight. Cas falls back to the floor, wrapping his arms around Dean, and for a moment they breathe together. “You stupid son of a bitch,” Dean breathes. “You can’t fucking do that again.”

“I won’t,” Cas says. His voice is rough and deep, right next to Dean’s ear. Dean thinks he might cry. 

“You have to stay,” Dean says. “You have to stay.”

“I will,” Cas says. Cas promises. “Oh, Dean.”

Dean pulls back, just a little, and cups Cas’s face with his hands. “Cas,” he says. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, eyes bright and sparkly, and Dean kisses him. 

He kisses him, and Cas kisses him back, and Dean thinks--well, if he had an Empty deal that would take him when he felt true happiness--Dean would be dead right now.

He pulls back, drops his forehead to Cas’s. “God, I love you so fuckin’ much.”

“You do?” Cas asks, and Dean hates himself. Cas should know that he’s--he’s Dean’s favorite person and Dean’s best friend and Dean loves, loves, loves him. He reaches into his jacket, into the inside pocket. 

“Yeah,” he says, and he presses the ring box into Cas’s hand. “I do.”

#supernatural #deancas #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #writingtag

[rere-the-writer]

Title- 'Running from a good thing.'

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Soft!Mikaelson

Pairings- Elijah Mikaelson x F!Reader x Rebekah Mikaelson

Summary- You left one stormy night hiding a secret after Hayley talked to you leaving both Elijah and Rebekah heart broken looking for you. You were now with two hunter brothers that saved you from a nest of vampires.

'They will never believe you. They won't accept it like they did Hope.'

Hayley's words rang in your head as you quickly packed, tears fell from your eyes. It hurt, the thought of leaving Rebekah and Elijah but Hayley was so sure in what she told you.

'You saw how Klaus reacted when I was pregnant with Hope. Whose to say they would be just as understanding?'

You didn't know where you could go, you couldn't return to Mystic Falls as you left behind your friends for Rebekah and Elijah. You went to New Orleans with them finding hard to live without the Originals.

When you stared dating the two Originals when they both showed interest in you, the orphan girl that Zach Salvatore took in. Elijah had informed you that it wasn't the first time the siblings shared lovers. You knew even if you went back to Mystic Falls that would be the first place they'll look.

"Lebanon, Kansas."

When the Mikaelsons came home, Rebekah rushed up to you as Elijah groaned tired sinking into the couch waiting for Rebekah to come down with you.

"Y/N is gone!" Elijah sat up all tiredness he felt went away as he joined Klaus and Kol who was looking up at Rebekah.

"Are you sure she didn't go out with Camille and Davina?"

"No Kol....her clothes are gone as if she packed up." Rebekah said as Elijah rushed up to your bedroom frowning as Hayley walked in carrying Hope on her hip.

"What's going on?"

"Y/N is gone." Klaus answered her as he and Kol watched her closely as they knew Hayley was in love with Elijah and knew how she felt about you.

"Oh yeah, she said something about a trip with old friends." Hayley said lying smoothly as Elijah frowned looking at Hayley.

"Impossible. Y/N always tells me and Rebekah if she has plans."

"Elijah, the last time she ran off like this was when her brothers learned of the relationship."

"Meaning something is wrong and she believes we wouldn't understand." Elijah said frowning as worry racked his body and Rebekah hugged Elijah hoping you were okay. Kol called Davina and Freya to come do a locater spell to find you.

A year passed since you left New Orleans and now settled with two hunters and their Angel after saving you from a nest of vampires. You missed your vampire lovers but Hayley's words would rang in your head everytime you thought of calling or going back.

"Y/N, Erik. We're home!" You heard Dean call out and you picked up the baby boy walking out smiling at Sam and Dean. Erik squealed seeing Sam reaching for the hunter who was happy to take the boy.

"Hey guys. Where's Cas?"

"Right here." Castiel said smiling at you as you hugged him. Castiel had been a huge help with Erik which Dean found to be adorably disgusting.

"How was the hunt?"

"Went by smoothly. On the way back we picked up on a new case in New Orleans." Dean said tossing Erik in the air making the baby laugh.

"Oh?" You said quietly you told the brothers about your past as to not hide anything. And to give you peace of mind they promised no big hunts in New Orleans unless needed.

"Look we know you said no hunts in New Orleans but a group of demons are up to something there."

"So Dean and I thought it would be good if you and Erik come with us. Get you both out of the bunker while we take out the demons."

"I don't know....."

"Come on. You can spoil Erik and the little guy can get some time out in the sun and fresh air."

"Okay. That sounds nice." You said giving in their puppy dog faces.

"I got dinner done by the way." You say getting cheers from Dean as Sam shook his head smiling.

The impala drove into New Orleans and you felt a bit of heart ache as the car stopped. You got out putting Erik in a baby carrier as Sam and Dean got out.

"We are going to go check out the crime scene. Here, enjoy the city we be back later to go out for dinner." Dean tells you as you nodded taking the money then watched the brothers drive off.

You walked around going to different shops as Erik babble holding your finger. A familiar face caught your attention and swallowed seeing it was Davina who smiled brightly seeing you as she jogged over.

"Y/N!? Where have you been? Rebekah and Elijah has been looking all over for you."

"Places.....humm." You said as you were unsure what to say as her eyes fell on the baby boy that looked awful like Elijah. Erik babble getting your attention as he looked at the new person.

"Y/N can you come with me?"

"De, I don't...."

"Please. I won't take you to the Abattoir. I just need to know something." Davina says as you nodded. You found yourself in Vincent's place having Erik standing in your lap bouncing. Erik was unbothered by Davina poking his finger with a needle to get his blood.

"Erik is Elijah's son."

"But how Vincent? Non of the witches did a spell for it nor did Freya." Davina tells Vincent who looked to you as you swallowed as they walked over.

"Y/N, do you know how you became pregnant?"

"No I don't....I didn't go to any witches nor did I go to Freya." You tell Vincent as Erik sat in your lap kicking his legs smiling.

"So that's why you left because of your pregnancy?"

"Yes. I'm sorry for causing trouble but I need to get going now." You say standing grabbing your bag rushing out the door as Vincent and Davina called your name.

"Y/N?" Kol whispered as you brushed pass him and Klaus both watching you hurrying away as Davina rushed out frowning seeing that you were gone.

"Davina?"

"We need to tell you something." Davina tells Klaus and Kol with a frown. You knew this was a bad idea but couldn't blame Sam and Dean as the brothers wanted what was best for you as you headed for the diner you all would meet up at.

"She had Elijah's son?!" Klaus said after calling an emergency family meeting as Vincent explained what was going on. Elijah sat in shock with Rebekah who was rubbing his hand.

"Y/N didn't tell us why?"

"That she didn't tell us." Davina says sighing as she recalls how nervous you were. Elijah stood fixing his suit jacket with unreadable look.

"Then let's find her and bring her home."

You sat in the diner with Sam and Dean talking and laughing as Dean was telling you what happened on the hunt. You were rubbing Erik's back as he slept with it being late.

"So you ran into an old friend?"

"Yeah....Davina and she most likely told everyone about Erik." You say softly looking down as Sam who was sitting next to you rubbing your back.

"Are you sure they wouldn't accept Erik? From what you told me and Sammy, Elijah and Rebekah loves you something fierce."

"Come on Dean. Hayley had a point, how would I explain that I was pregnant? They could accept Hope because they could explain it but Erik?"

"Yeah but you can find out how." Sam says taking a bite out of his salad as you blinked looking at him.

"How?"

You rocked Erik as he whimpered uncomfortable with being at a crossroads. Sam and Dean thought summoning Crowley to explain how you fell pregnant would help and of course Castiel stayed close to you and Erik not trusting demon.

"Hello moose and squirrel. Oh you brought the little rabbit." Crowley said smirking then it was wiped off his face when his eyes landed on Erik.

"You bought an Original's child with you? Are you kidding me?!" Crowley growled looking at the hunters with narrowed eyes.

"You know about Erik?"

"Yes I know about the boy! As any smart supernatural being would." Crowley says looking around nervous which made the brothers look at one another as it wasn't everyday the demon King was nervous.

"You okay there Crowley?"

"No I am not Winchester. You have both the mate of two Originals and his son so understandably I am on edge."

"Crowley. They are just vampires." Dean says as the look on Crowley's face was they hadn't seen before.

"They aren't just vampires Winchester. They could kill me without blinking these aren't like the ones you kill. They are one of the most feared beings."

"Are you serious?"

"Every. When we all heard that the son of Elijah Mikaelson had been born. Everyone knew to stay clear." Crowley said as you stepped forward after passing Erik to Castiel.

"Do you know how it was possible for me to get pregnant?"

"From my understanding there was a powerful witch that cast a spell then was killed. That is all I know." Crowley said disappearing leaving you all a bit confused.

Next morning Sam and Dean went out to see Benny who was out in the bayou asking if you wanted to join but you declined. You were walking with Erik in his baby carrier strapped to your chest as you walked though a witch's market.

"I found her Elijah." Marcel said after calling the Original when he saw you walking with bags in your hand of things for Erik.

"There she is." Rebekah breathed staring as you were looking at artists that were painting or drawing as Erik babbled smiling.

"There is your son Elijah." Klaus says as Elijah stared at the toddler strapped to you then to you. Both Rebekah and Elijah noted you had cut your hair and still had a bit of baby weight but you were still breathing taking beautiful to them.

They growled seeing a man show up next to you and how you smiled brightly at him and how the boy also smiled brightly at the man. The three Originals listen in on your conversation.

"You have bought a lot of things for Erik."

"Only the best for this little guy Cas." You tell Castiel as Erik let out an excited squeal making you look to see what he was staring at the got him all worked up. You stopped hold your breath seeing Elijah and Rebekah as both stared back.

"It seems he knows who his father is." Castiel commented as Erik was squealing reaching for the suit wearing Original.

"Yeah it seems so." You say swallowing watching they walking up to you. You had many emotions swirl in you and your heart began to ache seeing the soft look in their eyes.

You were soon back in the Abattoir holding Erik in your lap even though the boy was reaching for his father. It was just you, Rebekah and Elijah in the den as both Klaus and Kol let you three talk it out.

"Why did you run from us?" Rebekah asked she wasn't angry instead she sounded hurt, hurt that you didn't trust then enough to tell them about your pregnancy.

"Hayley said you wouldn't be as understanding as you were with her." You say softly looking away from them as in a flash Elijah was in front of you. Erik touched Elijah's face as Rebekah came sitting next to you.

"You are our lover, our beloved. Of course we would have understood. Elijah and I love you so deeply that we would die for you."

"Rebekah is right. We tore up the city looking for you." Elijah says grabbing Erik's hands smiling softly as the boy squealed putting his mouth on Elijah's hand.

"I sorry....I just...scared and Hayley told me all these things. I didn't mean to cause trouble." You said tearing up as Elijah gently took Erik and Rebekah wrapped you up in her arms.

"Shhh love. We weren't angry with you." Rebekah says her tone gentle as you sniffled feeling her kiss your head. Elijah looked at Erik seeing the boy staring back babbling softly.

"You'll be sure to visit right?" Dean asked hugging you after dropping your things off while Elijah was watching with Rebekah who was holding Erik.

"Yeah of course Dean. Thank you for everything."

"We're going to miss you and Erik." Sam says as you smiled hugging the tall hunter.

"If you both miss me too much just come to visit." You say as they nodded smiling and drove off. You turned seeing your lovers and son smiling you walked up as Elijah put an arm around you.

"No more running?"

"No more running." You promised as Elijah and Rebekah took you inside listening to Erik babble.

#rere's stories #elijah mikaelson imagine #rebekah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson x reader #rebekah mikaelson x reader

[curlynerd]

Happy Birthday, Cas! Word Count: 3K Rating: T Summary: Appalled that Cas has never had a birthday party before, Jack drags Dean into his schemes to plan a surprise party for him. Dean finally works up the courage to tell Cas how he feels. Notes: love confessions, first kiss, lots of fluff, and lots of Cas' family showing up much they care

Also read on AO3!

"You've never celebrated Cas' birthday?!" Jack exclaimed by way of greeting at -- Dean groaned and rolled over to check the time. -- 6:47 in the morning.

"Jack..." Dean sighed, dragging his hand down his face and sitting up in bed. "We've been over this. You promised not to come barging in here until at least 8:30."

"Huh?" Jack titled his head at Dean before his gaze trailed over to the bedside clock. "Oh. Sorry. I forgot to check the time."

"All those God powers and you can't even conjure up a watch?" Dean grumbled as he threw the sheets off his legs and planted his feet on the floor. "Now what were you saying about Cas?"

"His birthday!" Jack's expression was too damn excitable for this early in the morning. "I was telling him about how we celebrated my birthday after Mrs. Butters left, and I asked him about his birthday, and he said he'd never celebrated one before!"

Dean frowned at Jack. This was what he was woken up for? "Kid, I don't think he has one. The dude's older than calendars."

Jack was undaunted. "Yeah, but he was born, right? Even angels are born."

Okay, it was way too early for existential questions. He needed coffee. Dean grunted his acknowledgment and dragged himself to his feet. "Did Cas say when his birthday was?"

"Well, no." Jack furrowed his brow for just a second before his face lit up in enthusiasm. "Why don't we celebrate today?"

Dean stared at Jack. Jack's eyes were wide and sincere and full of love, just like his dad's. And, apparently, just as effective. "Alright..." Dean said with a defeated sigh. Who was he to deny the kid a chance to make his dad happy? "Whacha wanna do for his birthday?"

Jack beamed. "A surprise party! With cake!"

"Yeah, I figured as much." Dean scrubbed at his hair and wiped the last of the sleep out of his eyes as he shuffled his feet into his slippers. "Coffee first, though. Then the store."

"What kind of cake should we make?" Jack asked an hour later, as he and Dean pondered every box mix the grocery store had to offer.

“Hmm…” Dean eyeballed the box of funfetti mix. Jack would probably like that one best. It had sprinkles baked in. Dean kind of wanted a classic chocolate cake. And Cas, well. He wouldn’t care. He’d probably take two bites at most, just to appease Jack.

“This one.” Dean’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he reached for a box and held it out for Jack.

“Angel food cake?” Jack read.

Dean nodded, his grin widening at his little joke. “Yeah! It’s special. Angels love it, ya know.”

Jack tilted his head at Dean, then the box, before a smile bloomed across his face. “You gave me angel food cake once. I really liked it! Is that why you got it for me?”

Dean thought back to that drive, and his little snack cakes morality test. “Yup. That was definitely why.” He snatched the box from Jack’s hand and tossed it into the cart before he could ask more questions. “Let’s wrap this up before Cas wonders why we’ve been gone so long.”

If Cas was ignorant of Jack’s birthday plans before, he wasn’t for long. Neither Dean nor Jack thought to do much to conceal the contents of their shopping bags when they returned home. Or figure out a way to keep Cas from wandering the bunker. So when he stumbled upon the two of them hauling bags toward the kitchen, both Dean and Jack traded suspicious glances.

“Dean and I will be in the kitchen for awhile,” Jack said seriously, cutting straight to the chase. “Do not come in there though!”

“Oh?” Cas’ gaze flickered down to their bags. A package of birthday hats stuck out of the opening of one. A canister of rainbow sprinkles was nestled at the top of another. His mouth twitched as his eyes softened with warmth. When they met Dean’s eyes, Dean’s stomach did a flip. Cas’ eyes grew even warmer.

‘He loves you,’ Dean’s thoughts helpfully supplied at the worst possible moment, ensuring Dean’s face burned with a fierce blush right as Cas looked his most adoring. Dean hastily averted his gaze.

Cas hadn’t been back from the Empty for long, only a couple of weeks really. But it felt like an eternity.

Because Dean hadn’t told him yet. He hadn’t looked him in the eyes and said ‘I love you too.’ Hadn’t dragged him in by the lapels of his stupid trenchcoat and kissed him senseless. Hadn’t held him close and promised him that he could have Dean, all of him, for as long as he wanted to keep him.

The moment had never been right. There were always people around. Jack. Sam. So many of their friends, eager to see them and celebrate their victory over Chuck and their newfound freedom. Things were only now starting to quiet down, and still Dean hadn’t worked up the courage to tell him.

“It’s for a surprise,” Jack continued, pulling Dean from his thoughts. “Er, not a surprise! We’re not planning any surprises!” Dean barely controlled his eyeroll. The kid really needed to work on his lying. “It’s something you can’t know about until later. So don’t even think about peeking!”

Cas and Dean traded knowing looks. Dean shrugged a little. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Cas assured Jack.

Jack brightened. “Great! Come on, Dean. Let’s go!” He practically skipped toward the kitchen, radiating enthusiasm with every step. Dean sighed and followed after him, already anticipating the huge mess at the end of all this. At least it was just box mix. That was easy enough to handle.

As it turned out, even box mix wasn’t foolproof.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” Jack asked in concern. He poked at the misshapen mess of their cake.

“Probably not.” Dean shrugged. It was a disaster zone, is what it was. Apparently angel food cake required a special pan. It looked similar enough to a bundt pan, though, so Dean thought it was an okay substitute. Clearly not. Or maybe they overmixed it? Was that why it sunk into this lumpy, craggy mess and then fell apart when they tried to shake it out of the pan?

“But ya know, homemade cake never looks as fancy as the stuff you get at the store, but it tastes just as good.” He slapped Jack on the back. “Put some frosting on this thing, maybe some decorations, and we’re golden.”

And so they set to work. Jack clearly had a vision of what he wanted, pulling supplies from the pantry to add to the disaster cake. He insisted on covering it in a thick layer of chocolate frosting, even though Dean tried to tell him angel food cake didn’t usually need it. It was vital to what he was creating. A full hour passed, and somehow the thing looked even worse than when it first flopped out of the pan.

“Cas is gonna love it,” Dean said anyway, because he knew it was true. Jack beamed with pride.

“At what point am I no longer banned from the kitchen?” Almost as if on cue, Cas’ voice called out from down the hallway. “Am I allowed to walk past it? I’d like to go into the library.”

“You can come in!” Jack yelled back, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.

Dean looked around at the decoration-less kitchen, the party hats and the balloons still in their packaging. “Wait, hold on--” he began, but it was too late.

“SURPRISE!” Jack shouted as Cas rounded the corner. “Happy birthday, Cas!”

“A surprise for me?” Cas didn’t even seem to notice that the only things in the kitchen were a weird brown blob of cake and a massive mess. He was smiling from ear to ear at Jack with that special, endeared smile parents reserved just for their children. “But I told you I didn’t have a birthday,” Cas said. Which he and Jack had talked about literally hours ago. Before Jack raced off to talk with Dean and plan an impromptu trip to the store before baking all morning.

Yeah. Cas definitely knew what Jack was planning today.

“Well, Jack decided today was your birthday. So, happy birthday.” Dean shrugged a little in a ‘Kids. What can ya do?’ sort of way.

Cas’ expression softened. “Today is a perfect day for a birthday.”

“We made a cake!” Jack bounded over to Cas and practically dragged him to the kitchen counter. “Do you like it?”

“It is…” Cas frowned and knit his eyebrows together at the monstrosity before him. “An inside-out hedgehog?”

“It’s a Sarlacc Pit!” Jack exclaimed while Dean clutched at the table, doubled-over with laughter. Jack pointed out the pretzel rods jutting out around the misshapen, lumpy hole in the center of the sunken cake. They’d done their best to make the chocolate frosting around it look like smooth sand, but of course it was way too brown. And bits of warm cake kept breaking off while they iced it. “That’s its teeth, and that’s the sand. It’s a Star Wars cake!”

“Oh, of course it is!” Cas said generously. He patted Jack’s shoulder. “It’s wonderful, Jack. And Dean.” He nodded at Dean, who was still trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah we’ve got ourselves the next Cake Boss over here. If the God thing doesn’t work out.” Dean’s voice rippled with laughter. He snatched up the bag of party hats and ripped it open. Cas looked exceedingly tolerant as Dean snapped one on his head with an impish grin. “So birthday boy, whacha wanna do on your special day?”

“Oh I know!” Jack exclaimed. His enthusiasm was infectious. “First we’ve gotta…”

The day wound up being more about Jack than Cas. Or rather, Jack doing all the things he loved to do with Cas. There was a Star Wars movie marathon. There was cake. There were more board games than Dean had played in a lifetime. Dean had a sneaking suspicion Cas let Jack win most of them.

But Cas had smiled almost non-stop the entire day, probably more than Dean had seen the entire thirteen years since he’d met him. And yeah, Dean knew why. What was better to do on his birthday than spend time with his kid?

By the end of the day, even Cas was looking a little tired. Dean was absolutely exhausted. He was half-tempted to drag himself to bed early, but when Jack finally retired to his own room to give Dean and Cas some time together, there wasn’t any hesitation about settling down in his favorite armchair, Cas beside him, with two glasses of Dean’s favorite whiskey to share.

The drink was warming through his limbs, but the light in Cas’ eyes was warmer. He looked content, if not a little overwhelmed by all the love his little family had shown him today. Dean leaned back in his chair and let the peacefulness of the moment wash over him.

“You know, it’s serendipitous Jack chose today for my birthday.” Cas smiled down at his glass.

Dean cracked a sleepy eye open. “Yeah? Why?”

“Well, today is the anniversary of the day I raised you from perdition.”

Dean stared at Cas. Cas eyes twinkled with nostalgia. “Really?” Cas nodded, and Dean laughed. “Well then I suppose it’s really my re-birthday.”

Cas chuckled. “I’ll remind Jack to bake two cakes next year.” They fell into easy silence, nursing their drinks as they reflected on the years.

“It really is a good birth date,” Cas said awhile later. “I may have been alive for eons before then, but the day I met you was when I changed...That was when I really started living.”

Dean’s heart leapt into his throat, Cas’ love confession ringing in his ears. “Didn’t I stab you?” he joked weakly, deflecting the spiraling nerves that bubbled up in his chest.

Cas laughed. “Yes. Yes, you did. I didn’t realize it at the time, but even then you were making me feel. Mostly confusion,” he added with a wry twist of his lips. “I saved you from eternal damnation, and you repaid me by stabbing me in the chest!” Despite his amusement, Cas’ eyes were overflowing with warmth and affection. Dean could almost read the thoughts going on behind them. ‘I fell a little bit in love with you right then.’

“What can I say? I have that effect on people.” ‘Now,’ his thoughts urged. ‘Tell him now!’ “I dunno what I’d have done without you,” Dean mused around a sip of whiskey. A little more liquid courage. A little more and he could do this.

“Another angel would have been sent. You would have been pulled from Hell anyway.”

“Not what I meant, Cas,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “All of it. All the crap we’ve been through. All the crap Chuck put us through. Put me through.” He watched the way the warm lamplight reflected off his drink. “I...I’m glad I had a best friend through it all. You know?”

“Yes,” Cas said, but there was a twinge of sadness in his voice that made Dean look up. He was smiling softly, but the longing in his eyes was impossible to miss.

Dean sighed. His gut churned with fear and guilt and yearning. He knew Cas loved him. And he knew he loved Cas. Hell, he’d known that for a helluva lot longer than he’d known of Cas’ feelings. He just needed one little push to make him confront those feelings head-on.

“Ya know, I think I have one more present for you.” Dean set his glass down with heavy meaning. He nodded to himself and stood up, his jaw set firm, his eyes determined.

“You do?” Cas started to ask. “What--” And before he could finish his sentence, Dean crawled into the chair with him, his knees straddling Cas’ hips, bracing himself against the backrest with one hand. Cas’ eyes went huge. “Dean?” His voice trembled.

Dean was pretty sure he looked even more nervous, but he’d be damned if he owned up to it. “Hey birthday boy,” he hummed, forcing a flirtatious smile despite the anxiety pounding in his chest. He was going to kiss Cas. God how he wanted to kiss Cas.

But instead of looking delighted Cas looked...hurt. “Dean, you don’t have to do this for me.”

Dean’s heart went cold. “For you? You don’t think I want this?”

“No,” Cas said simply. Honestly. His bright blue eyes were so close now, but the heartache in them was almost painful to look at.

Dean swallowed thickly. “Well then you’re dumber than you look,” he teased, forcing bravado he did not feel. Dean leaned in until his forehead rested against Cas’. He could feel Cas’ warm breath across his lips. “Cas, if I could pick anyone in the whole damn world to be with, it’d be my best friend. You know that, right?” Cas licked his lips. Dean yearned to tilt his head down and catch them with his own. “But I thought you didn’t...Couldn’t...Well, I thought love wasn’t something angels did.”

“But I told you, Dean. When the Empty came, I told you--”

“Yeah I know. But you know how I drag my ass for important stuff.” That finally elicited a tiny puff of laughter from Cas. Dean smiled. “Come on, man. Cut me some slack. Lemme use this as an excuse to nut up and kiss you.”

As it turned out, Dean didn’t need to, because Cas surged up and pressed their lips together.

Dean gasped into the kiss as his hand resettled itself on Cas’ shoulder. Cas’ glass clattered as he hastily set it on the table in order to hold Dean’s waist with both hands. Cas kissed like he was starving for it, voracious and desperate, licking his way into Dean’s mouth without preamble and moaning deeply into the heat he found there.

Dean gave as good as he got, letting over a decade of longing finally escape through the hot, greedy press of their lips together, through the long trailing kisses along Cas’ jaw while Cas dragged his hands down Dean’s back and up underneath his shirt.

“We should...do this in my room…” Dean whispered in Cas’ ear as his teeth nipped at the sensitive area. Cas nodded and, without warning, stood up with Dean still wrapped around him. Dean startled and reflexively jerked his feet down toward the floor, though he realized with delight that Cas could almost certainly carry him the entire way if he wanted. Later. He’d test that out later. For now Dean grabbed Cas by the tie with a lecherous twinkle in his eye and hauled him in the direction of his bedroom. Soon to be their bedroom, if Dean had anything to say about it.

Much, much later, when they were tangled together beneath the sheets with Dean’s head nestled on Cas’ chest, Dean realized that Cas had been wrong. Because his happiest moment wasn’t when the Empty took him away. It wasn’t in just saying how he felt.

Because it was in loving, yes, but it was also in being loved.

Because when Dean peeked up at Cas’ face, he was radiating so much happiness Dean’s heart ached from it. Today was the happiest he’d ever been. And perhaps tomorrow, if Dean had anything to say about it, tomorrow he’d be even happier.

Cas’ eyes were full of love as he carded his fingers through Dean’s hair. “I know I don’t have any others to compare this against, but today was a very good birthday.”

“Good.” Dean pressed a sleepy kiss to Cas’ skin as his eyes drifted closed. “You deserve it.”

#destiel #deancas #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfiction #supernatural #castiel #happy birthday cas #dadstiel #spn #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #jack kline #dean winchester #katie writes things