#whatever you want to call that version of cas I just need reach

[nekoshi13]

Has anyone ever read or written a fanfic with honey Cas time traveling to meet younger Dean (Stanford era or s1, idc) and just try to take care of him as a way to fix his mistakes?

Bonus points if we see Cas actually heal from his psychotic break instead of magic him back to normal in purgatory

I have been having brain worms about this idea for months but haven't found anything

#I was starting to write it but... #does it exist already??? #might still write it one day but I can't promise anything even to myself #so this is a cry for help #I need this plot #supernatural #spn #castiel #honey!cas #crazy!cas #whatever you want to call that version of cas I just need reach #dean winchester #destiel #deancas #casdean #fanfic prompt #spn prompt #fanfic search #spn fanfic search #the cat rambles

[hells-plaid-angel]

They’re on a hunt when it happens. It’s something so innocuous Cas doesn’t think about the action until they’re driving home. They’d pursued their monster-of-the-week and run into another hunter who claimed they were an old friend of John Winchester. 

It took too long for them to realise the hunter was the one behind the killings, acting as a go-between, doing some dirty work for Hell. They found themselves cornered in the man’s yard, trapped and backed into a corner with a not-so-friendly looking hunting dog standing between them, and the high fence, their only exit. Cas’ grace was failing, so he was unsure if he could get himself and the Winchester brothers out of the mess unscathed. 

Cas knew many things about Dean Winchester, he knew he wasn’t cruel for the sake of cruelty but he also knew any man with a gun in his hand, who found themselves backed into a corner would be tempted to fire. It wasn’t often Dean surprised Cas, but that day he did. He held his hands out in front of himself, open-palmed and moved slowly to greet the animal. Its pinned ears and raised haunches kept Dean several arms lengths away, but they stood facing each other until the animal calmed.  When it did, Dean touched the creature softly and ushered both Cas and Sam out. By the look on Sam’s face, Cas understood he’d also been surprised Dean’s plan had worked. 

It isn’t until they’ve caught the hunter and driven back to the bunker and Sam had retired to his room that Cas decided to broach the subject. 

“How did you know the dog wouldn’t attack you?” 

“Call it a hunch,” Dean replied trying to minimise whatever had occurred, letting Cas know he was touching on something important. 

Something Dean didn’t want to talk about, was usually the exact thing he needed to talk about. Cas isn’t sure how he manages it, but after a few prolonged glances and a long stretch of silence, Dean speaks. 

“It’s a hunting dog, Cas. Course it’s going to attack you if it’s been told to. I know they’re dangerous, I ain’t stupid. But you sit with the thing for a while, show it you can trust it,  and maybe it starts to get iffy. Thing doesn’t like to fight, it just does what it’s told. You pet it and confuse the hell out of it. Hunters want the things to be tough, so they never touch ‘em gently. Think it’ll make ‘em soft.” Cas understands.  Dean is the dog. 

Cas wonders if he’s ever been touched gently. He decides it’s his job to make sure Dean is. 

He spots a few scratches and bruises littering Dean’s body from the aftermath of the hunt and pulls him into the kitchen, trying to get a better look at him. He reaches out a hand to heal Dean but the man shrugs him off, making an excuse about not wanting Cas to waste his grace. That won’t do. Cas needs to show Dean that people can be gentle with him.

That’s how the two end up knee to knee at their unconventional version of a dining room table, with Cas helping to cradle a packet of frozen peas to Dean’s face. Cas tentatively strokes a thumb over the underside of Dean’s eyes, along his cheekbones. No one taught Cas how to be gentle, so he’s unsure if he’s doing it right, but from Dean’s stunned silence he thinks perhaps he is.

In the following days, Cas grabs every opportunity he can to touch Dean softly. He shocks Dean speechless as midway through a conversation Cas moves forward and gently brushes a strand of hair to the side, that had fallen into Dean’s eyes. When he needs to move past Dean he places a soft but firm hand in the middle of his back. He even throws a blanket over Dean’s shoulders on a partially cold morning. 

When he begins to run out of ways to be gentle he finds another, one that even Cas knows is toeing the line of things he can get away with. 

“Night, sunshine. I’m hitting the hay,” Dean grumbles, rising from his seat beside Cas in his ‘Dean Cave’ as the movie they were watching comes to a close. 

Cas stands with him before he can talk himself out of it and cautiously, places a kiss to Dean’s cheek. He lets it linger before pulling and mumbles, 

“Goodnight, Dean.” 

Dean doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything. He raises a hand to his cheek, as though to capture the heat of Cas’ lips and stares at him with wide-eyed amazement. And once more Cas sees the same look of frozen and confused horror as the dog. So it was true. Dean wasn’t used to being treated with such fondness. Cas would have to change that. 

#I've had a brain worm the past few days #so I'm sharing it with you #destiel #deancas #spn #supernatural #destiel ficlet #destiel drabble #dean winchester #bisexual dean winchester #dean studies #cas #castiel #dean meta #let 'em be soft damn it #spn meta #destiel fluff

[what-if-i-just-did]

Destiel Prompt List 3. Extended version of a classic Destiel scene.

Trigger Warnings: graphic descriptions of pain, mind control and the aftermath of being beat up. Also there's some kissing but it isn't really nsfw. And as always feels.

Mind Control and Make-Out Sessions

"We need you."

Shit. He's gonna have to do the movie thing, isn't he? If it'll help Cas.

He swallows.

"I need you."

The next words are 'I love you', but he chokes on them. He tries "Cass.." instead. He thinks his voice breaks.

It seems to work. Cas dropped the Blade.

He tries to keep eye-contact, but just a few seconds in and he's done. Shit, his arm hurts like a biiiiiiiitch. And his face is all fucked up. He's fairly sure his cheekbone is fractured in at least three places, and his eye is definetly messed up, and some skin's been ripped, and there's no way he doesn't have a concussion, but it's fine, he's had worse. (Way worse) His breathing is incredibly ragged, though, almost verging on a panic attack, but he has more important things right now. Namely, Cas.

Then there's a blinding light and oh, Cas got the tablet. He closes his eyes.

Cas is looking at him now. Dean's trying to decide if Cas is okay now, but with a fucked-up eye and the angel being as unreadable as ever, he's not sure. "Cas.." he says, like he's approaching a wild animal. Cas reaches for him.

"No.. Cas.. Cas ! "

He grabs onto Cas's arm, uselessly, he knows, as if he could possibly do anything at all to stop Castiel from hurting him, and Cas isn't doing the two-fingers-to-the-forehead thing, no, Cas is cupping the beat-up side of his head, and it hurts, but Cas is being gentle, and if Dean is about to die then fuck, he leans into Cas's hand because yeah, it feels good if he ignores the rest, so he breathes in sharply and he waits for the blindingly hot pain to course through him and turn his insides to liquid, waits for his eyes to be burnt out and decides he forgives Cas and he has just enough time for a stab of panick when he realizes he'll probably wake up in Hell, again before he's opening his eyes.

He's not in Hell. In fact, he's still kneeling in the fucking crypt. In front of Cas. But.. nothing hurts. His face, his arm... shit, did Cas just... heal him?

He's panting. He looks at Cas, and the angel is looking so guilty, so motherfreakin' cute- no, adorable, that Dean's breath hitches. Which, you know, he's pretty sure is not a reaction he's supposed to have about Cas, who's a dude, (or, at least in a dude and wow that took a turn wait a minute), and also like this heavenly, millenia-old warrior of heaven or whatever but right now he's got other focusses.

"So sorry, Dean."

There's about a million things he could say, but he goes for

"What the Hell just happened". Are you okay?

"I... Naomi was..."

"Yeah, about that. Who's Naomi?" And what did she do to you?

"Naomi is an Angel of Heaven-" Which is the moment Dean realises he's still on his knees, in front of Cas. It takes him about .5 seconds to get to his feet. Cas stops talking to give him a confused look (with the squint and headtilt and it's not helping Dean with trying to stop seeing Cas as cute) but Dean just shoots him a quasi-innocent look that says 'I'm ignoring that look, you were saying?' so Cas keeps talking.

"She.. She's an Angel of Heaven who.. well, her job is to make sure everyone obeys their orders. She sent Angels to Purgatory to, save, me, but she realized of course I wouldn't simply obey her. She gave me... exercizes. Tests, perhaps. Or.. well, whatever you want to call it. She had to be certain I'd obey her. I..." Cas stops to shake his head and break eye-contact, looking at the floor. "Dean, I am incredibly sorry. I would never... I never wanted to hurt you. I wish I could take it back." He makes a vague hand-motion. "I healed you. I suppose that's as close as it'll get." Blue meets green again. "I would never have done that if I was in control of my actions."

Dean leans backwards. Between the emotion is Cas's voice, and the information that someone, some dickwad angel, had been controlling his Cas (he knows Cas isn't really his but it does feel that way. His guardian angel.) for that long, he's torn between possesive anger and being touched by how much Cas cares.

"I forgive you. Hell, I already forgave you since before you stopped... Cas, it wasn't you, okay? I think that's pretty obvious. I forgive you."

He needs that much to be clear to the angel (only angel he'll ever care about). Now that he got that much clear, he took a breath. It's been four years. He's already lost Cas... more than once. And maybe his brain isn't really working cause this is gonna have consequinces but right now he can't really care. He just needs to say it.

"I love you, of course I forgive you."

Cas frowns. "You.. love.. me? How.. after all I've done, after I just- how could you say that?"

Okay. not what he'd been expecting. Uhm. "Cas." He needs to find some words, but it's like all the words in existence are playing hide and seek and he's it (isn't that tag? Oh whatever). "You... You.. Cas, you've done so much for us. And I already said, I forgive you for beating me up. And.. whatever Naomi did, ain't your fault. Yeah, sure, you've made mistakes.. big ones. But so have I. So has Sammy, I mean... I don't care. Besides, love.. I don't know, it's probably just a stupid human thing, but.. mistakes, and betrayels and whatever, it's not supposed to matter. It doesn't matter. I love you. And.. yeah, we've got shit to work out, but that doesn't take away from me loving you. Get it? Like.. we're family. You know what family does?, family forgives. And loves. So. There's that." There. That was, decent, right? Maybe shouldn't've said the family part, but, well.. too late now, huh.

Cas nods, looking a little... overwhelmed. "I... I think I understand. it sounds like such a human thing, but, I... I love you too, Dean. In a way I don't think.. I don't think my brethren could."

And oh. Cas probably doesn't realize what that would mean, in human terms, what he just said. But there seems to be some residual brain damage or something, because the next thing Dean blurts is "Cas can I kiss you", followed instantly by him shoving a hand over his mouth and wishing the ground could swallow him up.

Cas tilts his head. Squints. "Yes."

"What?" W H A T ? ! ? Did Cas just...

"Yes. You can.. kiss me, Dean."

Dean gulps. Yes, definetly residual brain damage. Cas was probably feeling too guilty to properly clean him up. Right now, Dean could care less. "I... okay."

He takes a carefull step forwards. Cas doesn't move. Another step, and now he's standing right iin front of Cas. His eyes flicker over Cas's face, trying to find reluctance, or hesitation, or disgust. They find curiosity, and thinly-veiled exitement (?) and some caution. That's fine. He angles his head a little, and Cas's breath is pracitcally ghosting over Dean's lips. He hesitates, like if he stepped away now, they could pretend this never happened. But he started this. He wants this. And Cas said yes. "Love you." Dean whispers before sealing their lips and closing his eyes.

Cas's lips are soft. So soft. He cautiously moves against them, and consequentially inhales a lungfull of Cas. He smiled into the kiss, and he can feel Cas move a little too. He brings his hand up to cup Cas's jaw a little, for balance, and Cas does the same, but a little less shy, leaving his hand closer to Dean's lips than Dean would dare do to Cas right now. They shift their heads to different angles, putting more or less pressure to the kiss they're sharing. Then Dean carefully reaches out with his tongue, licks over Cas's lips, and Cas gasps. Dean takes the oppertunity and licks the inside of Cas's upper lip, and Cas lets him, so he doesn't stop. He doesn't want to stop.

It doesn't take long after that for the kiss to become a little... less innocent. Their tongues find eachother, and more hands are being shifted, holding onto shirts and trenchcoats and jawlines and hair and chests, and then someone moans, and the kiss turns desperate, hopefull, longing, nostalgic. Everything they wanted, out on the table, and mirrored on each side. Why did they wait four years with this? Why did it take losing eachother, over and over and over, for them to realize they could have what they wanted? They could have had this all along.

Then Cas puts his hand flat on Dean's chest, and it's clear what that means- stop. Dean pulls back, opens his eyes. "Shit, you okay, what's-" but Cas is softly smiling.

"Dean... as much as I'm enjoying.. this. We have... we have things to deal with, to discuss. Naomi... the Tablet. I think we should put this on pauze. What's the term- raincheck?"

Dean tries to clear up the love and lust fogging his head. Take a breath. "Y-yeah. Yeah, okay. Raincheck. Talk first, make out later. I can do that."

He breathes a few more times. Cas is patient. He puts his clothes and hair back into more or less the configuration they had before Cas's hands found them. He breathes. "Okay...

So, this.. Naomi. Has been controlling you since she got you out of Purgatory?", he prompts. Cas nods sullenly. "Yeah."

Then, of course, Cas leaves. So, 'Make out later' never really happens. Of course, that's how it goes when you're a Winchester. Always got a world to save.

#destiel #casdean #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #spn #fanfiction #destiel fanfic #spn naomi

[hoboal87]

The Fear

Title: The Fear

Pairing: Dean x pregnant!Reader, minor Sam x Eileen

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Summary: Dean comes home to find Y/N missing.

Word Count: 2300+

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, kidnapping, violence, fluff, pregnancy, non-graphic descriptions of childbirth, 15 x 20 adjacent.

A/N: my entry for @princessmisery666's #daily mix challenge combined with a Nonnie request.

Edit: I forgot to thank the lovely @lovealways-j​ for beta-reading this for me. Thanks, Sabrina!

My song is "The Fear" by The Score

My Full Masterlist

Something’s wrong.

Dean can sense it the moment he steps into his shared room with Y/N. He looks carefully around the room, trying to find a clue as to what’s got his hunter instincts in high gear. It looks no different then when he and Sam left three days ago, and yet, every bone in his body is telling him something is off.

“Y/N?” He calls out hesitantly as he makes his way towards her old room down the hall. She’d been in the process of turning it into a nursery for the last month and had a tendency to get lost in paint samples and baby supplies. As he closes in on the room, he can feel himself becoming more on edge and instinctively reaches for his gun. “Sweetheart? You in there?”

Dean’s heart sinks further into his stomach as he reaches the newly-converted nursery. The usually meticulously organized room was in a state of disarray as if there had been some sort of struggle. Dean calls out for Y/N again, willing her to give him some kind of sign that he was overreacting to what he was seeing.

He quickly pulls out his phone dialing Y/N’s number, he and Sam should have never gone on that hunt, Y/N was due in less than a month, but she insisted that they go.

This is Y/N, sorry I can’t come to the phone, if it’s an emergency please contact Sam or Dean…

“Fuck,” Dean mutters, waiting for her message to end. “Hey sweetheart,” he does his best to keep his voice steady. “Me and Sammy just got back and I just got a feeling…” he takes a deep breath. “Call me back. Love you.”

Dean pockets his phone, before taking in the room again, trying to convince himself that it’s his new-father instincts and not his hunter instincts that have him so on edge. That’s when he sees it: under a discarded bag, a small pool of blood. Dean’s breathing grows heavier, and he scans the room again, looking for any kind of sign of what may have happened in the room.

“Sam!” Dean yells out, his breath quickening. “Sammy!”

Sam’s behind him, skidding to a stop before taking in the sight of the room before him. Even with only a cursory glance Dean knows that Sam’s thinking the same thing as him, something’s happened to Y/N.

Dean hurries down to the infirmary, Y/N had insisted that they have everything to monitor her in the final months and in the worst-case scenario anything needed to help her deliver. The simple fetal monitor is right where they’d left it three days prior, Dean insists on listening to the heartbeat of his unborn child on an almost daily basis, letting the rapid thump thump thump put him at ease.

Dean’s phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he breathes out a sigh of relief when Y/N’s picture fills the screen. He takes a minute, calming himself, she doesn’t need to know that up until this moment he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Sweetheart,” he smiles, “y’know you had us worried for a minute.”

There’s silence on the other end of the call, save for heavy, scratchy breathing.

“Y/N?”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Y/N whispers, choking back a sob. “I shouldn’t’ve trusted her. Now–”

“Baby, listen to me,” Dean finds Sam in the hall and mouths trace the call, Sam nods and bolts towards the library. “Are you okay? The baby?”

“That depends on you, Dean,” an unfamiliar voice replaces Y/N’s. “Now, be a good little soldier and do as I say. Only then will your precious wife and child have a chance to make it through this unharmed.” Dean can feel his blood boiling, this is why he could never not be a hunter. He and Sam have made too many enemies over the years, and now Y/N and their baby may be paying the price.

All the fear that he felt when Y/N first told him she was pregnant comes rushing back to the surface. Dean never thought he’d get married, let alone be a father, but with Rowena keeping the demons in check, and Jack limiting the angels' interaction on Earth, with the exception of Cas, life became some version of safe for the brothers.

That’s why Y/N insisted that they take the simple salt n’ burn just one state over. She knew that they were going a little stir crazy, Bobby, Jody and Donna, had started training the next generation of hunters so that boys could retire. Dean was hesitant to leave, Y/N was only a month away from her due date, but she shooed them out the door, claiming to need her own space from her overprotective husband and brother-in-law.

“Are you listening, Dean?” The voice tuts and Dean tries to clear his head of ‘if’s’ and ‘could’ve’s’ all it’s doing is driving him crazy.

“I’m listening,” Dean repeats through gritted teeth. The voice gives coordinates to a location a few hours away and before he realizes it he’s in the Impala, ready to do whatever it takes to save his wife and baby. Sam tells Dean what he’s already sure of: this is a trap and Y/N is being used as bait. He doesn’t care, he can’t lose her, lose their baby, not when she’s done nothing more than love him.

The sun is setting when they pull up to the abandoned farmhouse, original, Dean thinks. Dean wants to go bursting in, guns ablaze, but Sam stops him, reminding him that they don’t know who or what has got Y/N, and they have to be smart. He wants nothing more than to punch his brother for suggesting that they wait even a second longer to rescue Y/N, but he lets the words sink in and reluctantly agrees.

Silver bullets, holy water, dead man’s blood, witch-killing bullets and machete’s are divided between each brother, knowing that whatever has Y/N, one of these things will most likely kill it. When they enter the farmhouse Dean’s eyes lock on Y/N, who’s against a wall, two chains around her wrists.

Dean rushes towards her, the only thing on his mind is getting her and the baby out of this place and back home. Her breathing is shallow when he reaches her, and he gently inspects her body. Gingerly, he touches her face, allowing her Y/E/C eyes to meet his and she smiles lazily at him. Knew you’d come, she whispers, and Dean leans forward to place a kiss on her forehead. His free hand lands on the swell of her belly, where he can feel a slight kick against his palm.

“I love you,” Dean says softly so that only Y/N can hear him. “I’m gonna get you outta here, sweetheart, okay?” Y/N nods slightly as Dean focuses his attention on freeing her from her bonds.

There’s a grunt behind Dean, and when he turns around, Sam’s on the ground, and there’s a somewhat familiar woman standing behind him.

“Dean Winchester,” she exclaims as two large men appear and pull him to his feet. “Been too long.”

“Jenny,” he utters, remembering one of the first cases he worked with Sam. “You look good, a little dead, but, good.”

“Always the charmer, weren’t you Dean?” She takes a step towards Y/N. “I could smell you on her the second she walked past me. Women always trust other women, made her think I was a hunter; a tragic backstory here, a name drop there, and bingo, the dumb bitch is leading me into your home.”

Dean feels his anger rising as he tugs against the two men, his eyes flicker to Sam, who slowly starts reaching for the blade next to him.

“Up,” Jenny orders and when Y/N doesn’t comply she produces a blade, and presses it against her stomach. Dean’s heart stops at the threat to Y/N and their baby. “If you want to give your baby a chance to ever see the light of day, I suggest you cooperate.”

Y/N’s legs are wobbly as she stands, tears glistening in her eyes as Jenny slowly runs the blade against her. Dean’s gaze doesn’t leave her, watching as Jenny uncuffs her, and leads her slowly over to him.

Adrenaline pumps through Dean’s veins and he frees himself from his two captors; headbutting one and throwing a punch at the other as Y/N is pushed out of the way. Sam is up on his feet and in a swift move, swings the blade through Jenny’s neck, her body falling limp to the ground. For the briefest of moments, Dean relaxes, only for a vamp to be coming at him again.

Dean can barely keep track of anything, his eyes tunneling in on the large vamp in front of him. He can hear the grunts of Sam, and the familiar sound of another vamp going down. Y/N isn’t in his line of sight, and through the blood pounding in his ears, he hears Sam call his name.

It was just the distraction that the vamp needed and he barrels towards Dean, slamming him against a wooden post. He feels something pierce his side but he keeps fighting against the vamp. As the vamp is about to take his final shot, his head is gone, and Sam is quickly resheething his blade.

Y/N cries out, cradling her stomach and even from a distance he can see the pool blood between her legs. Go, Dean orders Sam who quickly obeys.

“I think she’s in labor,” Sam mutters. “I don’t think we can get her to a hospital in time.”

Dean rushes to Y/N’s side as best he can, telling her everything will be alright. Dean returns to Baby, grabbing the first aid kit, hastily patching up the wound, and retrieving a blanket from the trunk. The pain hits him all at once, but he pushes through it, his pain doesn’t matter, all that matters is that Y/N and the baby are safe.

Y/N’s screaming out in pain, begging for someone to make it stop as Sam does his best to calm her. Dean closes the distance in only a few steps, positioning himself behind her. He takes her hands in his, whispering praises in her ear as Sam orders her to push.

Within only a few minutes, Evelyn Marie Winchester is brought into the world, wailing loudly as Sam wraps her in his flannel and hands her over to Y/N. Dean offers Sam a silent thank you as he takes in the appearance of his daughter. Evie’s the perfect combination of him and Y/N.

The moment of bliss doesn’t last long, as Sam reminds them that they still need to get Y/N and Evie to a hospital. Dean moves from his place behind Y/N and winces at the pain now radiating through his body. Sam gives him a curious look, and Dean shrugs, trying to convince his brother that he’s fine.

Dean takes Evie out of Y/N’s arms, and cradles her against him as Sam helps Y/N to her feet. Dean takes a few steps before legs start to give and his vision starts to blur. The last thing Dean hears before everything going black is Y/N and Sam calling out his name.

Five Years Later

Dean watches as Evie runs around the backyard of their new home, chasing Miracle and laughing hysterically. Y/N was right, the Bunker was no place to raise a little girl, she deserves everything that he and Sam never had, and he is determined to give it all to her. Evie will never know what it’s like to go to bed hungry or cold, or wonder when she’ll see her parents again.

The opening of the front door tears Dean’s attention away from his daughter, Sam’s voice filling the otherwise silent house. He turns to see his brother carrying a ridiculous amount of gifts followed by a very pregnant Eileen with a shaggy haired toddler attached to her hip.

“Unca De!” Little Bobby tries to squirm out of Eileen’s hold and she carefully lets him down. The toddler bolts for Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean’s leg. “S’Evie’s birfday!”

“I know, buddy!” Dean laughs at his nephew, “how ‘bout you go tell her ‘happy birthday’?” Dean opens the side door and lets Bobby out.

“You are going to spoil my daughter rotten, Sam Winchester,” Y/N appears from the back of the house. Dean’s still amazed that even after years together, Y/N can take his breath away.

“Well, if I had another niece or nephew, I could spread the love.”

“I think you’ve spread enough love, Sammy,” Dean jokes as he heads into the kitchen, Sam following behind him. “I mean, you’re basically having your kids back-to-back.”

“Three years is hardly back-to-back,” Sam reaches out to grab a beer. “You’re just mad ‘cause I one-upped you.”

“Actually,” Dean peeks into the living room. “We’ll be even. Y/N’s pregnant.”

The words have hardly left Dean’s mouth before Sam’s engulfed him in a hug. Dean’s positive that Eileen and Y/N are having a similar conversation at this very same moment, but what neither Sam or Eileen know is that they have a bet on who will crack first.

“Just found out a couple of weeks ago,” Dean continues with the ruse. “She wanted to wait until after yours was born, didn’t want to take Eileen’s thunder or something.” Sam nods, seemingly understanding.

Hours later, after the last present has been opened, and the final piece of cake has been eaten, Sam and Eileen take a very sleepy Bobby home. Evie sits at the kitchen table, listening carefully and a smile growing on her face as Dean and Y/N tell her that in six months she’ll have a little brother or sister.

“Or both,” Y/N corrects with a knowing smirk.

“Both?”

Please reblog or send me an ask with your feedback!

This one-shot was requested by a nonnie, my requests are currently open, you can send me an ask or DM me if you’d like to request something. 

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#pmdailymix666 #dean x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean x pregnant!reader #angst #violence #kidnapping #angst with a happy ending

[wormstacheangel]

some latinenatural for my benefit mostly. read the first two chapter on ao3 aqui

Dean was still wearing a big smile when he finally kicked his boots off at home. It took everything he had to finally let Cas leave his Baby, wanting to keep pulling him in for one final kiss after another. Cas now knows what “Otro Besito.” means. Enough so that every time he heard it, he rolled his eyes, but he always leaned in. Until finally, he closed the car door and promised to text Dean tomorrow.

Cas’s number is now saved under an angel emoji porque Dean es un romantico first and foremost.

“Apenas estas llegando?” Dean looked up to see his Tio sitting on the couch with a novela playing on the tv. “Como te fue?”

“Awesome.” Dean picked up his boots and walked over to kiss the top of his Tio’s head before heading to bed. Ignoring his fake protesting of the affection. “Me voy char un baño.”

They asked about Cassie in the morning, and Dean made up some casual date, a believable one, but told them they were probably better off friends anyways. It made it harder to think of excuses to sneak out at night but working for Victor at night made it easier for Bobby not to question him.

He wished he could tell them about his actual dates. Talk about Cas’s stupid two left feet and his beautiful smile. He wished he could talk about the way Cas looked, eyes squinting and head tilting como un pajarito when Dean spoke more than three words in Spanish. But he loved it so much, and just getting those good morning texts from him made his days so much better.

[Read more under tag <3]

It was Monday again when Dean walked by Cas’s house with the raspados.

“Mi Angelito,” Dean wanted to reach and kiss him, but eyes were still watching him. So instead, he reached down and handed Cas a grocery bag filled with Tupperware. “I brought you a real lunch so you can eat it instead of just some ice.”

Cas had admitted that he came home for his lunch break to see Dean. Giving him no time to have an actual proper lunch, and Dean won’t have any of that. Su hombre va a estar lleno y feliz con su comida.

Cas took the bag in shock before handing it back to Dean. “No, Dean, I can’t take this.”

“I woke up extra early to make it for you y no lo quieres?”

“¡Si te quiero!” Cas reached to touch Dean’s cheek, blue eyes watching Dean’s reaction as he quietly added, “Mucho.”

Dean swallowed hard before taking Cas’s hand and giving it a quick little kiss before letting it fall. “Cas, cariño, I was talking about the food. I said ‘no lo quieres’ not ‘no me quieres’. Do you hear the difference?”

“Oh.” Cas stepped back and looked at the plastic bag in his hand. “Then I um-thank you.”

Dean chuckled, stepping forward to wrap Cas in his arms for a quick squeeze. “Ay, pendejo.”

“Dean!” Dean could picture the roll of the eyes without even looking at Cas. He tried to hold in his laughter as he pulled away just a little, just enough, so their faces stayed inches away.

He raised an eyebrow at Cas as he asked, “What? Ya no me quieres?”

Dean could see Cas’s wheels turning in his mind as he mouths the words Dean just said to him. The blush on his cheeks growing as the realization hits him. “Me. You said-yes! I mean, si! I mean, yes or whatever!”

Dean was sure Cas had no idea what he was saying. It’s not like he said amo. No, Cas said quiero. It was the less intense version of ammo, but still,l it relatively meant the same thing, and Dean wasn’t sure if he was ready to repeat it.

“Quiero un beso.” Dean says instead, wanting to rest his forehead down on Cas’s but restrains himself. The hug was already pushing it out in public.

“Dean, my brother is home.” Cas looked at the house behind him before looking back at Dean, eyes sad, but Dean only smiled back at him. His hand reaches to pinch Cas’s cheek gently while he winks at him.

Te quiero. Es lo que quiere decir pero ahorita no es el momento. It’s too early for that. Ahorita, Dean está feliz nomás en tenerlo. No tiene que decir nada. No tiene que decirle a nadie que se está enamorando muy rápido de un güero con ojos más azules que el cielo. Más brillosos que una estrella. Más hondos que el mar.

No. Dean didn’t have to tell anyone que se está enamorado de los pies a la cabeza. It’s fine.

Dean lifts his hat enough to scratch his sweaty hair before he jumps back on his bike. “Pick you up later then?”

Cas nods as he holds the grocery bag tight in his right hand before lamely waving at Dean with his left.

Dean leaves with a loud ring of his bells.

A month of sneaking around goes by with Dean asking Victor to tell Bobby he was working for him during his date nights. It was obvious Victor knew, but Dean was way too scared to confirm it. Either way, Victor agreed to help him sneak around and didn’t push for details.

Though he always eyed Cas like a challenge whenever he came around, Cas never seemed to notice as he was caught up rereading the same menu he has been looking at for weeks.

It was a Thursday night that Cas called to ask, “So what are we?”

Dean was in the middle of mopping the bathroom stalls in the office building, with Bobby doing a different one on the same floor. Sam was somewhere throwing away the trash from the offices while a few other folks that worked for his Tio cleaned up whatever they had to do. The only sounds in the offices were vacuums and music coming from someone’s speaker.

“Cas, I’m kinda busy working right now.”

“You said I could call Thursday nights cause you get bored.” Fuck. He did say that. “Unless you don’t wanna answer.”

“It’s just…no es algo-”

“English, Dean. I can’t read your expressions over the phone.” Oh, so that’s how he catches on.

“Exactly! It’s not something to discuss over the phone. We can go out tomorrow and talk about it.”

Cas didn’t say anything but Dean could hear him moving some stuff around.

“Cas?” Dean pushed the mop bucket out of the bathroom as he finished. Trying not to think about how here Dean was, working late as a janitor while Cas was staying late at his fancy corporate job. Fuck, si piensa mucho en eso se va a volver loco. “Cariño? Andale Angelito, don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Then talk to me.” Dean hears Cas make a loud and tired sigh. “Mira, que suspiro!” He teased.

“Dean, I don’t know-Ah! Fuck!” Dean hears Cas’s phone fall against something hard. Dean’s heart raced, not knowing what to do.

“Cas? Castiel!” Dean calls to his phone, already abandoning his bucket to start jogging to the door to drive wherever Cas was, even though he didn’t know where that was. “Contestame, cabron!”

Dean stops when he hears Cas awkwardly laugh through the phone. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I usually never stay this late. I’ve just been behind the last few weeks.”

Dean couldn’t hear what the other person said, but Cas sounded fine, so Dean took a breath of relief.

“Dean?”

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry. The janitor walked into my office, and it scared me. I didn’t realize how late it was.” Dean can already picture Cas running his hand through his hair. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you call me…cabron.”

Mierda. “Well, you scared me! I thought something-Don’t do that!”

“Dean,” Oh, good. Cas was smiling. “I didn’t think you cared so much.”

“Shut up.” Dean heard the echo of his own voice. “Oye, cariño, take me off speaker! I don’t wanna hear myself.”

“Sorry, but I need my hands to pack up my things. But please, continue talking about how much you care about me while I do so.”

Dean grumbled, “I’m hanging up.”

“But te quiero!”

“You can’t keep using that against me, Angelito. Es tu culpa.”

Cas was silent for a second before Dean heard, “Excuse me. If you’re done, you can just-Sir? Hey!”

“Cas?” And before Dean can panic again, he hears a familiar voice call his name from the other end.

“Dean?”

Dean’s heart sinks as the voice echoes in his mind. Dean’s head falls into his hand as he starts to shake just a little before answering. “Sam. Tell me where you are.”

#sorry to leave you like this but i had to post it now or I'll never finish this story #next part most likely this weekend and that will be that! #again sorry for my bad spanish pero google docs sucks man #and i can read spanish pero not write so well #okay excusas over #latinenatural #sobrenatural #destiel #deancas #fic #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #destiel au #wormstachwrites #my writing #yes i do realize it is a bad timing with the dash but what can we do #i lack patience #but once again if you have a word you wanna know you can google or leave in the comment and i will do my best to explain #though you are better off asking google but 'pies a cabeza' is head over heels btw #so niceeee

[sillyrabbit81]

Syverson & Vixen

Summary: Captain Syverson retires from the Army and takes an extended vacation. He wasn't planning on falling in love. Then he meets Vix, an unlucky in love tattoo artist at a party. Do they have what it takes to make it?

Pairing: Syverson x OFC

Word Count: approx 2.4k

Warnings: Smut (oral f receiving, male receiving), swearing,

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy my version of Syverson. Thanks for reading.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Part 7 Part 9

Part 8

Syverson

I stayed with Vix until Jess got home. Jess and Vix asked me to stay for dinner, but I'd been in the same clothes for 36 hours, and I wanted to shower and change.

Vix drove me home, she had a Mini Cooper, and I had to pull my head down to my shoulders to fit in it. Vix laughed, though, and it was good to see her smile.

I was worried for a while there that she would feel different about me after what went down with her ex. That seeing me be violent, even mildly like that, would scare her off. It didn't seem to. I couldn't have left her alone even if I wasn't interested in her. I can't stand bullies, and Macca surely was one. He was the kind of guy I'd seen on deployment sometimes, all bark and no bite. He was a pussy when I got him alone, shaking and not even trying to get away. I couldn't stand pussy's like him.

It had been hard not to beat the shit out of him when Vix had left. That he had touched her like that without her permission made me burn inside. It made me burn even more that once upon a time, she had let him touch her like that. That's when I knew I had to call Softy. I didn't know if I could keep my rage in check.

Vix seemed happy for me to stay with her all day. We watched some of her favourite movies. I enjoyed Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront. Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? was a bit weird for my taste, though. But I'd watch paint dry just to have her snuggled into me like she did.

Vix wasn't as flirty as she had been. She didn't try to get me to fuck her all day. We hadn't even kissed again. I would have thought she didn't want me anymore if it hadn't been for the way she laced her fingers through mine as we snuggled. She brought out a protective instinct in me so deep it was almost part of my wiring. Even crying the night before, she didn't appear as vulnerable as she seemed while she hugged me and held my hand.

It didn't mean she wasn't still as sexy as hell. She was just one of those girls who was sexy no matter what she did. After one of the movies finished, she had stretched her whole body out after standing. Her arms raised above her head, her shirt lifted and just seeing the way her waist curved to her hip was enough to give me a boner.

When I got out of Vix's car, I went around to her side and leaned in to kiss her. "You still ok to go out tomorrow night?"

"Of course," she smiled, the smile I've come to think of as her naughty girl smile.

I reached into the car and held the back of her neck, and kissed her like I had wanted to all day. I let my tongue search out her piercing and, not for the first time, wondered what it would feel like to have her tongue on my dick. I reached into her car and under her t-shirt. She hadn't put a bra on, and I touched her tits for the first time that day. I let my fingers tug just slightly on her piercing, and she moaned into my mouth.

I pulled away with a wink and said, "See you at seven tomorrow, Victoria." I went inside before she could say anything.

I had a shower and made sure it was ice cold. It wasn't enough to cool my blood entirely, but it helped.

I had to work out where the hell I would take a girl like Vix out on a date. I want to do something she will like but damn, that girl is into weird shit. I figured she wouldn't be impressed by just any dinner and a movie. I searched until I finally find something I think she will like. I definitely needed to buy a car for it.

When Softy came home, I asked him about Mac. "He's out already. We set up an AVO, so he has to stay away from Vix, but its all we can do. He will go to court in a few months, but he'll probably get away with it. For a guy like him, he's got pretty clean skin, so I doubt he will serve time."

I nodded. Then I asked, "how about you and Jess and that girl Aylin?" It was a stab in the dark, but I was pretty sure he had fucked her or was fucking her.

"You aren't going to say anything about it to Vix, are ya mate?" Softy looked ashamed. "It was one time nearly a year ago... Fuck, I don't need to explain myself to you."

"I ain't fixing' to tell Vix," I told Softy. "Just a few things make sense now, is all. Like why you seem to avoid spendin' time alone with Jess. I don't care what you do, just don't involve me in your shit like that."

Softy nodded. He was just lucky that Vix was wrapped up in what was happening, not to notice the vibes between those two. Anyone with half a brain could see Aylin was in love with Softy.

I was slightly nervous, picking Vix up. I had that feeling in the guts you get when you're not sure if you want to shit or throw up. Not as bad as before a mission, but I still felt it. I rang the doorbell and waited, rocking on my heels like a 16-year-old. Fuck, this girl had me feeling more than I had anticipated.

Vix answered the door, and she took my breath away. She wore a white tight halter dress that went to just above her knee with red heels, skin coloured stockings and a red belt. She had her red hair in two rolls on the top of her head, and the rest fell down her back.

I whistled at Vix and motioned for her to turn around. "Very nice, Darlin'," I said to her. "You're cuter than a bug's ear."

"Why, thank you, sir. Ain't you sweet." Vix said, mimicking my accent.

I laughed and pointed to my cheek. "Give me some sugar, lil girl." She leaned and gave me a peck on the cheek. She smiled, then wiped my cheek with her thumb.

"Sorry, I got lipstick on you. I uh, I made you something." Vix seemed nervous. She pulled out from behind her back a framed picture. Inside was a drawing of a guy dressed in a 1950s greaser style.

"Wow, Vix," I said, "you're real good." I looked at the picture again. "Is this me?"

Vix's pretty cheeks went a little pink, and she said, "I drew this a few days ago. It's you, but a little different. Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for looking out for me. You didn't have to."

I put my arms around her slim waist and kissed her. "Thank you, Darlin' you didn't have to do that." She was cute when she went shy. I imagine shy isn't a feeling Vix is familiar with.

"I wanted to." She said, and she put her arms around me too. "So, where are you taking me?"

"I thought we could go to the drive-in? How does that sound, Peaches?"

Vix's eyes lit up, "What are we seeing?"

"A double feature of Grease and Rocky Horror Picture Show."

"Sy!" Vix's face lit up. "That's perfect!"

I beamed at her, "well, shake a leg, and let's get."

The drive-in was done up in a retro 1950s style, and even the servers wore old-school uniforms. We had burgers and milkshakes before the movie.

Vix held my hand while we watched the movie. She seemed to know every line of Grease. A few times, I watched her as she appeared to mouth the words to every scene. I asked her how many times she had seen it. She laughed and said she had no idea, but she would watch it nearly every week when she was a kid. She told me she loved Sandy because she was Australian, but her favourite was Rizzo. I laughed and said, I could see that. She playfully smacked my hand.

During Rocky Horror I sat in the passenger seat, and Vix sat on my lap, her back leaning against the door and her legs across mine. She weighed next to nothing, but her weight was distracting. I leaned my head against her chest, and her nails scratched at my head, sending shivers down my spine.

I ran my hand up her thigh and could feel those thin silky stockings. As my hand went higher, I felt that suspenders held up her stockings. I lifted her tight dress up her thigh, and as it raised, I saw the white ribbon hiding the clasp. I followed it up and saw her pretty white belt and sheer underwear. They hid nothing, and I could see that little triangle of hair and her bare lips hiding her centre. Pulling her dress back down, I looked at Vix. She was watching me and almost wasn't breathing.

"Those are real pretty, Victoria. You wear that for me?"

Vix nodded. A small smile on her lips. "Surprise." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

I put my hand on the back of her neck and pulled her down to me. "I like this surprise."

I kissed her, and her lips were soft and open. Her legs opened too, and I couldn't stop myself. I moved my hand up the inside of her thigh until I reached her underwear. They were so thin I could feel how wet she was through the fabric. I found her clit and grazed my finger over it. Vix moaned.

I put my finger under her chin and guided her face towards the movie screen. "Watch the movie Victoria," I said and started to pull her panties to the side.

"Sy!" She looked back at me. Her cheeks flushed with desire.

I gently took her throat in my hand and said, "if you're a good girl, I'll make you cum again. Watch the movie Victoria."

Vix bit her lip and watched the movie. I slid her panties aside and ran my finger along her slit. This time I didn't stop myself. I put my finger in my mouth and tasted her. Her sweet taste rocked me to my sex. I heard myself groan, and Vix squirmed on my lap.

"You taste like cherries, lil kitten."

"Do you like cherries?" Vix asked. Her voice was ragged, but her eyes stayed on the movie.

"I could eat cherries all day," I replied with a grin. Vix's eyes closed for a moment. I could see her breathing getting quicker. I pressed the button to make my seat go back as far as it could go. The footwell was big but probably not big enough for me. Fuck. I wanted to put my face between her legs. Fucking drive-ins. I shouldn't have looked up her dress. "God damn it."

Vix watched the movie, but she had a massive smile on her face. She said teasingly, "what's wrong, Sy?" She wriggled on my lap. My dick throbbed in my pants, no way she couldn't feel it.

I lifted her, sat her on the centre consul, and pushed her legs apart. In one of the most challenging manoeuvres of my life, I twisted my body into the too-small footwell and leaned against the seat until I could get my face to where it needed to be.

Vix's panties were still pushed to the side, and I opened her legs wider, and my lips grazed her centre. She felt so soft and smooth. My tongue came out to find her core, wanting to be inside her. I found it and forced my tongue in tasting her sweetness.

I licked my tongue up higher, finding her clit, and I lapped at it like a dog. I sucked on her letting my tongue lick at her while I did. Vix held my head to her as I licked, her nails digging into my scalp. I felt her getting wetter, she was soaking my beard, and I wanted more. I pushed her dress up high over her ass. I looked up at her. Her face was turned to the movie, but her eyes were closed. I wrapped my arms around her thighs and pulled her closer, and growled. Vix had me so turned on that I didn't care if I sounded like an animal.

"Sy," She cried, her hands left my head, and she braced herself against the roof, her body trembling. She still didn't look at me. "Fuck, Sy. Please don't stop. Please." She pleaded with me, and I kept going, hungry for her to cum. She didn't move for a moment and tensed before she cried out, and she went over the edge. She bit her hand to try to muffle her shout, and I didn't let go of her clit until she let go of her hand.

Vix looked at me, her eyes desperate still. She tried to pull me up by my shirt, and I chuckled at her and let myself be lead up to her mouth. Her greedy mouth sucked herself off my lips and my beard. I couldn't wait anymore. My hands went to my jeans, and I opened them, pulling my cock out. I sat on the passenger seat and put her on the floor in front of me. Her eyes went wide when she saw my dick in my hand, and I moved my hand up the shaft over the head and back. She licked her lips. "Do you want this, Victoria?" I asked.

She nodded and opened her mouth, and took me in all the way to the base. Her pretty red lips were stretched wide around me, and the visual alone made my balls rise in my sack. Her eyes twinkled as she moves her mouth, and I felt her tongue and that little metal ball slide over the head of my cock.

I couldn't take my eyes off her as she moved back down my shaft and repeated the movements.

Vix's phone rang. We both ignored it. I was so close. It rang again, and I was distracted, and I tried to block it out. The third time it rang, the moment was over. "Fuck!" I said, frustrated as hell.

"Sorry, it's Jess. I have to take it." She answered the phone, and the way her face fell told me our date was over. "Hey, Jess, Jess, what's wrong? Pete? What? Fucking Prick! I'll be there in 20."

When she hung up, she said, "sorry, Sy, I've got to go home."

Part 9

#captain syverson #syverson fanfiction #syverson x ofc #syverson smut #henry cavill #sand castle #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #captain syverson fanfiction

[goldenraeofsun]

PO Box 8921

“What is that?” Dean demands as Sam dumps a duffel bag full of mail out on the war table.

Cas looks up from his tome on Babylonian chaos magic or Shang dynasty dragon taming or whatever he’s moved onto now. All Dean knows is that the book smells like rotting flowers and mouse shit, so he banished Cas to the other end of the war table.

“Fan mail,” Sam says.

Cas sets down his book and walks closer.

Dean throws Sam a baffled look. “Why the hell are we getting fan mail?”

“It’s more like we’re getting Chuck’s fan mail,” Sam says sheepishly.

“Explain. Now.”

Cas picks up a letter curiously.

Sam sighs. “The last time Charlie was here, we hacked Flying Wiccan Press - Chuck’s old publisher - and we redirected his mail and royalty checks to a local PO box. I figured if anyone deserves money off those books, it’s us.”

“I thought his books tanked,” Dean says flatly.

Sam scowls. “It had a resurgence after the angels came into the picture,” he says with a sidelong look at Cas, who’s apparently absorbed in reading a note from Vancouver, British Columbia.

“Seriously?”

Sam shrugs. “They’re very compelling, apparently. I’ve been checking it every very few months, but two days ago I got a call saying they were running out of space.”

“Why?” Dean picks up a large flat envelope and rips it open. “What the…?” he murmurs. He slides out a matte illustration of the Impala driving down a nameless highway, golden swaying wheat fields bracketing both sides of the road, a fading sunset illuminating the horizon. His mouth falls open.

Sam takes a seat and pulls Dean’s laptop towards him.

“I was doing research,” Dean says quickly as Sam flips it open.

Sam takes one look at the screen, grimacing, before he clicks the mouse forcefully. “Really, Dean?” he gripes. “Cas was right there.”

Dean raises his eyebrows, smirking. “Exactly. I needed to know if he thought-”

“No,” Sam says, horrified. “I do not want to know.”

“You asked about the research.”

Sam’s does a full-body recoil. “That was not what I meant and you know it.”

Dean chuckles. He sets aside the beautiful painting of his baby (that one’s going in the Dean Cave for sure) and picks up the next package of similar size and weight. He eagerly tears off the top and pulls out the contents. It takes him a second, but the trenchcoat slipping off the figure’s shoulders is a dead giveaway.

“Hey!” Dean says, spinning it around to show to Cas. “I think it’s supposed to be you.”

Cas looks up from another letter - this one from Wellington, OH - and tilts his head. “My wings aren’t rainbow colored. They’re actually a color not perceptible by human eyes - maybe by some genetically mutant shrimp -”

Dean laughs. “You don’t have an eight pack either. It’s all artistic license, baby.”

“Aha!” Sam says, spinning the computer around, the porn tabs banished to the void of Dean’s browser history. “The fans reached a milestone last week.”

“What mile-” Dean cuts himself off as another illustration slips out behind the one of Cas. It flutters to the table.

“Is that of us?” Cas asks curiously, reaching for it. He holds it up.

“No way,” Dean says vehemently as he shuffles around to stare at it over Cas’s shoulder.

“Probably,” Sam pipes up.

Dean glares over at him. “How do you know that, Samantha?”

“That milestone?” Sam says, his face an odd mix of smug and constipated. “There are a hundred thousand fan fiction stories, as of last Monday.”

Dean blinks. “Fan fiction?”

“Yeah, a lot of it.” Sam sets aside the laptop and reaches for a nearby letter in a robin’s egg blue envelope.

Dean takes a large step away from the pile of half-opened mail like it just started emitting Sam’s toxic post-Chipotle farts.

“Are we - are they - is it more Sam slash Dean?” Dean asks in a faint voice.

Sam smirks. “Not this time. Like I said,” he says as he scans his letter, “the readers really liked the angels.”

Dean makes a choked noise in the back of his throat. Do all these letters wax poetic about Cas? That’s a lot of people that have thought about his angel naked. And that doesn’t sit right with Dean. “Why?” he demands.

Sam throws him a sharp look. “Why not? Cas is our best friend. He’s a good dude.”

Dean glances to Cas for reassurance, who shrugs as if to say he doesn’t understand it any more than he does.

“So they, like, have a thing for angels?” Dean asks haltingly. “An angel kink?”

Cas scowls.

“Not all angels, just Cas,” Sam confirms. “Plus love interest.”

Dean shifts his weight to his other foot. “Right… you and Cas?” Dean ventures as Cas sighs loudly next to him.

Sam rolls his eyes and pushes a letter towards Dean. “No, not me and Cas, jerk.”

Dean picks it up tentatively. He really can’t handle reading about a fictional version of himself banging Cas, but before he can flip the letter open, Cas nudges him with his elbow. “Sam’s right. This one is obviously of us,” he says, tilting the drawing so Dean can get a full view.

It takes a moment for Dean to get what he’s seeing. Everyone in the illustration is fully clothed, first of all. It shows a darkened, windowless room. An outsized television illuminates the three figures watching an episode of Scooby Doo. One of the men is sprawled out on a recliner, Sam’s long, hippie hair a dead giveaway. Another man is asleep in the second recliner, covered in a draped trenchcoat - Cas? No, there's a third guy standing above the second, his elbows braced on the back of the recliner, his fingers tangled in Dean’s hair as Dean sleeps on.

“This is very sweet,” Cas rumbles.

Dean picks up the letter Sam handed him, his face flaming. “Unrealistic,” he grunts.

“Really,” Sam says flatly as he reaches for the illustration. He whistles as he takes it in. “Nice light composition. And what are you talking about? We watched Scooby Doo like three days ago in the Dean Cave.”

“I’d never fall asleep in front of the TV,” Dean says scornfully. “That’s a disgrace to Scoob.”

Cas makes a noise that Dean hopes is a cough, but judging by Sam’s smirk was probably more of a snort.

Dean flips open the letter, and, to his surprise, it doesn’t start with contrived porn dialogue.

Dear Mr. Edlund,

I’ve been a follower of your work for many years, and I have admired and rooted for Team Free Will, especially for Dean and Castiel’s relationship. Despite all the pain, despite destiny itself working against them, they found each other and created something that resonated with thousands of people. They truly have a profound bond that transcends every barrier imaginable, and it gives me hope.

Dumbfounded, Dean reads on, shutting out Sam and Cas completely.

He swallows thickly as he sets the letter down.

“Dean?” Cas asks, concerned. “Are you alright?”

Sam drops his joking expression. “You good?”

Dean nods.

“No matter how your story started out,” Sam says slowly, “you won. And it seems like you did a lot of good along the way.” He gestures to the pile. “More than just saving people from monsters.”

Cas lays a hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezes. “Apparently I am a gay icon now,” he says, his face completely serious.

Dean cracks up. Wiping at his eyes, he grabs another letter at random. “We’d better get going on the rest of these. The faster we read ’em, the faster Sam can reply.”

Sam’s face falls. “Wait, no-”

#destiel #destiel fanfic #fanfic #rae writes fic #post series #established relationship #deancas100k #profoundnet #canon divergence

[ialwayscomewhenyoucall]

Every Drop of Grace

Endverse destiel

Rating: on the border between M and E (I’m over cautious, probably most people would say M)

About 3k

“Do you ever wish we could have something...normal?” Dean’s voice falls into the quiet night, a stone falling into a once-still pond.

Cas can’t hold back his snort. “Dean. You grew up hunting monsters. I’m a fallen angel. There was never going to be anything ‘normal’ about either of us.” Dean huffs in response, burying his face deeper into the hollow of Cas’s neck. “It also doesn’t help that our relationship–if that’s what you want to call it–began after the end of the world.”

“The world didn’t end,” Dean protests weakly. “It’s still here. It’s just…”

“Right,” Cas says, giving in to the urge to roll his eyes–it helps that Dean is behind him and can’t actually see his eyes. “The world is still here. We even have this tiny bit that’s almost safe.”

Dean doesn’t argue, though Cas can feel how much he wants to. Cas idly wonders if Dean ever argued a monster to death, but he doesn’t voice the thought. He doesn’t want Dean to leave. He smirks into the darkness, though. He can absolutely imagine a cocky, 13 year old version of Dean facing down a werewolf. “You’re doing it wrong!” shouts the smaller, higher-voiced Dean. “You need to lull me into complacency, then strike. No wonder you’ve been caught by a kid.

Cas chuckles softly at the made up–but completely plausible–memory. At Dean’s questioning hum, Cas skips his imaginings and brings the conversation back to where they started. “Considering the chaos all around us, I’d say what we have is amazing, Dean.” Having you at all is amazing, he does not say.

Dean smiles against Cas’s skin.

There is much Cas misses about being an angel–healing, flying, super-strength, not being so damned fragile–but on the opposite side, there are so many things that make the Fall worthwhile. He’d touched Dean when he was still an angel, and it had been nice enough. Better than nice even; there’d been something special about touching Dean from the first time he’d held the hunter’s broken soul in hell. But in this his human senses are far superior. The touch of Dean’s lips on the soft skin between Cas’s shoulder blades makes his heart race, his breathing quicken. Dean laughs, not more than a soft breath, and Cas’s stomach flips at the heat across his skin. He’s getting hard, just from a few small sensations.

Yes, the Fall was worthwhile. Even if they’re doomed, he wouldn’t trade this for all the Grace ever created.

Dean goes on, most likely unaware of Cas’s growing arousal. Cas focuses on Dean’s voice and on keeping his own breathing as even as possible, and soon he’s nearly as lost in Dean’s memories as Dean himself.

“I always tried to find fun stuff for Sammy, growing up.” Dean’s voice catches a little on his brother’s name, but he pushes through. “Most of the things I did pissed Dad off, but I didn’t let him stop me. The kid had to have something good in his horror of a childhood. Little things: a bag of marshmallows to roast over a campfire, a Monopoly game we could play in motel rooms, a baseball cap I knew he wanted. I found a pair of roller skates in his size once; I think he was about eleven. Man, that was a mess. Dumb kid took off like he knew just what he was doing and two yards later fell flat on his face. Dad put four stitches over his left eye and lectured him the whole time about what if that rock hit your eye instead of your forehead, blah blah blah. Sammy took it like a champ, didn’t flinch once, and as soon as Dad was gone Sammy put the skates right back on and took off again. And that time he didn’t fall. Well, he did, but not right away, and not so he needed stitches.”

Cas can tell Dean is working up to something, even if it all just seems like rambling. Dean is a roadmap, and sometimes Cas can follow. “A few months before I turned 16 I stole Dad’s car for a couple hours and took Sammy to a drive-in. You ever…?” Dean answers his own question before Cas has the chance to even shake his head. “Nah, you weren’t much of a movie-goer back in your halo days. At a drive-in you sit in your car to watch a movie–outside, at night. You park by a little speaker that pipes the sound right to you, and the screen is gigantic, big as...well, I don’t even know, it’s been too long, but trust me, it’s big. You look out the front of the car and all you see is the movie. You’ve got the sound filling up the car and the movie filling up your eyes and it’s like you and whoever you’re sitting with are in your own little world, whatever make-believe world the actors and all the rest made for you to live in. For a few hours, anyway.”

Dean’s voice is rough, almost raw. “That’s what we have, Cas. A few hours in a bubble full of make-believe, until the bubble pops and it’s the end of the world again.”

Cas wants to scream, to deny every word, to tell Dean it isn’t make-believe, it isn’t, and he wants to spend every minute from now until they fall to dust proving it, but instead he hears his traitorous mouth whisper, “I know.”

“It’s okay,” Dean says, and Cas isn’t sure which of them Dean is trying to comfort. “It’s okay. The pretending, the bubble–it’s enough.”

It isn’t. Cas wants it all, wants every bit of Dean. His smiles and his glares, his laughs and his curses, his happy chatter and his incoherent tears. He wants to be fucked into the mattress and then hold Dean in his arms until the sun comes up, to have Dean stay all night instead of slinking away in the darkness.

It isn’t enough. The coffee’s been gone for awhile, but he wants to make Dean tea in the mornings, good strong tea to bring a little of the sparkle back to his green eyes. He wants to go with him on foraging runs, venturing out of their little corner of the world to find supplies to last them just a little bit longer. He wants to have Dean’s back, to protect him, to keep him safe. He doesn’t have his mojo anymore, but he still has his blade, and he’s had millenia of practice to hone his skills.

Cas doesn’t want only darkness, grasping and clutching at each other when the rest of the world sleeps. He wants to give Dean every kind of pleasure, and maybe a little bit of peace. As a fallen angel, Cas doesn’t think he gets to go to heaven, but he doesn’t mind. He has here, he has now.

So this little bubble of half-truths and fairy tales…

It’s not enough.

Cas’s eyes begin to sting. “Fuck.” The word is mostly air, barely a sound at all, but of course Dean hears. Because Dean can see through Cas’s pretences too. That’s how these things work.

“Cas?”

“It’s nothing,” Cas says, but Dean sees through that too, maneuvering them both so they’re face to face on the narrow bed. Cas closes his eyes, willing the tears to stop before they can properly begin. He hates to cry, hates to have his feelings fly so far out of his control that they stream down his face in the form of wet, salty tears.

“It’s nothing,” he says again, when he trusts that his voice won’t give him away. Then, grasping at the first thought that passes through his head, he says, “I just don’t like when the bubble pops.”

The lines around Dean’s eyes soften. He presses a kiss to Cas’s forehead and says, “We’ve still got a few hours. I’m not going anywhere.” His yet is unspoken but Cas hears it anyway.

Dean’s got one hand holding the side of Cas’s face, fingers threaded into his hair, the other resting lightly on his hip. Their legs are tangled together, and when Dean moves in to kiss Cas again their hips move together and Cas can’t take it anymore. There is so much skin, it feels like skin for miles, but also like he can feel every individual cell, every molecule of Dean’s breath, every miniscule drop of sweat…

“Dean,” Cas groans, because it’s too much, his brain is going to overload. It doesn’t matter that they had sex not long ago–Cas needs more, needs to be closer. “Dean.” It’s almost a prayer. “Please.”

And Dean is there, even before he calls, pushing him onto his back. Dean kisses Cas, hungry, and Cas is happy–eager–to be devoured. He’s got his arms wrapped around Dean, clawing at his back, trying to pull them closer together. There’s a part of his brain screaming that Dean thinks this is all pretend, so maybe if Cas can get them close enough together, if he can somehow press the truth into Dean’s skin, then maybe Dean will understand.

But then Dean thrusts his cock (hard, so hard, and all for him) against Cas’s, and he stops thinking and just feels.

Cas throws his head back and Dean nips at his throat; Cas hisses and claws at Dean’s back again. There’s a growl coming from deep in Dean’s chest, but Cas can feel the smile against his skin. They both like the small shocks of pain–reminders of life.

Holding himself up on one forearm, Dean reaches between them, wrapping his strong, calloused fingers around both their cocks. A moan escapes Cas’s lips, and Dean chuckles softly. “Do you remember the first time we did this?” He’s looking deep into Cas’s eyes, and not for the first time Cas suspects he sees a bit of faerie in the emerald depths; enchanting, beautiful, tricksome, and dangerous. He knows there’s nothing to the thought; he knit Dean back together molecule by molecule, saw every strand of his DNA.

Dean twists his hand in a particularly skillful way and Cas is pulled back to the present. Their first time. Yes, Cas remembers. How could he forget?

“Summer sun,” Cas manages, in between gasping breaths. “Your freckles…”

“My freckles?” Dean laughs. “That’s what you remember?”

“I might be only human now, Dean Winchester, but I remember–” He gasps as Dean’s palm brushes against a particularly sensitive spot– “I remember every second of that afternoon with perfect–” Another shuddering gasp– “Perfect clarity.”

Dean’s hand stutters to a stop, and when Cas sees the look in Dean’s eyes something in his stomach twists. Don’t be too real don’t be too real shouts a voice inside his head, clearly battling with the part of him that wants Dean to know everything.

I’m a mess, he thinks.

To Dean he says in a low, broken voice, “I was leaning against the trunk of a tree, looking up at the sun shining through the leaves. It occurred to me that I’d never spent any time looking at trees, or leaves, or much of anything at all while I was an angel. I did what I was told. Didn’t even take time to look around and enjoy the view.”

Dean’s hand starts to move again. For a moment Cas’s eyelids flutter closed, his eyes rolling upwards in pure pleasure, but then he continues, concentrating on speaking slowly and carefully and without breaking. He almost succeeds.

“I hadn’t been human long. A month? Five weeks? Not long enough to get used to human senses. So when you walked up and the sun shone down on your face, your freckles standing out against your pale skin… And then you put your hand–” The memory of Dean’s hand reaching out is too much and he has to stop to breathe, to gain control, because he doesn’t want to come yet. The story isn’t over. “You put your hand on my shoulder and said, ‘Hey Cas.’”

That had been it. Just a touch, some freckles, and his name on Dean’s lips.

“There was something in your eyes,” Dean says, taking over the narrative. “I hadn’t meant to kiss you. But you looked...kissable. Blue eyes wide and…” He gives his head a quick shake. “I don’t know what it was. But as soon as our lips touched I knew it was the right thing to do. Knew I shouldn’t have waited so long to do it.” At this Cas raises his head up just enough to slot their lips together. It’s an electric current, sharp and warm, just like it always is.

It’s home.

“And then you pushed me up against my cabin wall.”

They’re both breathing heavy now, each of them close to their release but trying to hold on.

“It was the closest wall I could find,” Dean says, a little defensive, a little embarrassed. “And it was a little more hidden than the tree we started out against.”

If Cas had the breath to spare he’d laugh. He lets out a puff of air instead, and Dean’s eyes light up in response. “Yeah,” Cas says, teasing. “Sun shining down on us, completely visible from three sides, only blocked by the cabin. Couldn’t be bothered to–”

Dean stops him with a kiss. Cas doesn’t mind. Cas’s mind is full of lips and skin and hands and sparks and pleasure that is building and building and threatening to heave him overboard–

Cas is on the edge, barely hanging on, when Dean stops.

The stillness is both total and false. Neither of them moves, almost as if they are frozen in time, and there is no breath of wind coming through the open window, no branches scratching at the roof. But there are two hearts pounding, two men gasping for breath, and the whispers of a thousand words not being said.

Cas refuses to be the first one to speak. He knows if he opens his mouth, he’ll never stop.

It feels like an eternity has passed–though it’s probably only been ten or fifteen seconds, Cas’s sense of time has been skewed since his Fall–when Dean breaks the silence.

“What do you want, Cas?”

“Everything.”

Cas tells the truth, the real truth, before he can think, and for a moment he wishes he could somehow call the word back, erase it from history, go back to their bubble of make-believe. Dean would probably let him brush it off. He could call it sex induced lunacy. It’s probably even true.

But no. No. He’s fucking tired of pretend, of half-truths, of bedtime stories. This isn’t enough. He means it, he wants everything.

Dean is looking into his eyes, searching for something. Cas can’t read his expression, he’s guarding his thoughts too closely.

It hurts, having Dean hide from him. They’re naked and in each other’s arms, and Dean’s…

Well, really they’re both hiding. They’ve been hiding from the beginning.

Shit.

There’s a burning behind Cas’s eyes again, but this time he can’t blink the tears away. When the first tear rolls down Cas’s face Dean pulls back, a fraction of an inch, in surprise. His thumb wipes away the tear.

“Cas?”

“It’s not enough,” Cas says. “I can’t do this anymore, Dean. I meant what I said, I want everything. All of it. I want to spend the night with you and wake up with you in the morning. I want to kiss you in the daytime, with the sun on your freckles. Are you ashamed of me? The camp screwup, the broken angel? Because people talk, Dean. Everyone knows you come here, and they know what we do, and they don’t care. The world is falling apart. There are bigger things to worry about. There are bigger things for us, too, but right now all that matters is I can’t hide anymore. I love you, Dean. I think...no. I know I always have. And I don’t want to waste another second hiding in the dark.”

And Dean just looks at him. Once upon a time Cas put Dean together, molecule by molecule. Saw every bit of him. That’s how Cas feels now. Examined. Seen.

Known.

It should be horrifying, but it’s Dean, so Cas just looks back, waiting. He doesn’t even wipe away the tears that keep falling despite his best efforts to blink the damned things back.

The silence goes on so long Cas is sure Dean is going to get up and walk away. It’s okay, he tells himself. I want more, I want everything, but to love...that will never end. It will hurt, but I’ll still love him. No matter–

And then Dean is kissing him. It’s not heated, or frantic; it’s a soft, gentle kiss and makes Cas feel wrapped in love. They both smile, their foreheads pressed together. “Wish you’d said something sooner, Cas.”

“Didn’t want to push you away.”

Dean pulls back a little. “That’s...well, yeah, that’s…”

Smile widening, Cas says, “We’ll work it out.”

In what Cas supposes is an answer, Dean kisses him. A bit more playful this time, he even bites at Cas’s lower lip. Cas can’t hold back his moan. The feel of teeth rasping against his skin…it’s almost too much.

And then Dean’s hand starts moving again, tugging and twisting at their dicks. Cas is almost startled, he’d been so caught up in his confession of– but now isn’t the time, he’s groaning into Dean’s mouth and he thinks there might be words but his brain isn’t quite connected to the rest of his body at the moment. All he knows is good and Dean and so much love and skin and when Dean murmurs Cas’s name it’s too much for him and he spills his seed between them. Dean chases after, a punched out sound falling from his lips.

They lie together, still, their come sticky and drying between them. Somewhere far off in the camp a door clatters shut.

“I wish–” Dean starts.

“I know,” Cas interrupts. But it’s not the time to dwell on what might have been.

Dean shifts them into a more comfortable position. “Okay.”

“We should–”

“No.” This time it’s Dean interrupting. “Not yet. We can clean up in a few minutes. Right now I just want to hold you.”

Tucking his face against Dean’s chest, Cas murmurs, “I can’t say no to that.”

Dean somehow pulls Cas closer, and Cas’s skin sings. Worth every feather, he thinks. Every drop of Grace.

**

For @bend-me-shape-me ‘s Dean/Cas summer prompts!

Week 2 (drive-in cinema) and week 3 (I can still recall our last summer)

I hit week 3 kinda sideways…but it works!

#lirael writes #deancassummerprompts21 #endverse destiel #love confessions #angst with a happy ending #this makes me happy

[scones-and-texting-and-murder]

if you would’ve been the one

(1300 words, rated T, read on ao3)

When it happens, Dean’s so hyped up by the adrenaline still coursing through his system that he almost doesn’t notice. It’s not until Sam dispatches the last vamp and Dean sags a little in relief, only to realize he can’t move. He’s pinned, like a butterfly in a display case, like he’s back on the rack.

It’s almost funny. That he could battle every sort of evil creature out there—demons, monsters, even God for fuck’s sake, only to be taken down by a bit of unfinished carpentry. He ponders the cosmic significance. Maybe there’s the start of a Jesus metaphor here, with that single nail between his flesh and the wooden post, like he’s only up to C-R-U in a fucked up game of H-O-R-S-E.

Then he remembers there is no God, no universe sending him signs or trying to teach him a lesson. Just his own free will and, apparently, shitty fucking luck that’s brought him to this inglorious moment.

Sam doesn’t get it, not at first, promising he’ll run and call for help, do what he can to patch him up but Dean stops him, asks him to stay. Yeah, they could probably do all that but Dean realizes something: he’s tired. And not only that, he’s ready.

Each night since Cas has been gone, Dean lies in bed and turns his name around and around in his mind, like a rock in a tumbler, smoothing all sides of it with his thoughts. It’s not praying, not quite, the intention isn’t there, but if Cas can still sense his longing, well, he's got that in spades. Cas gave his life for Dean, professing his love in a way that couldn’t have been more clear and Dean…he just stood there processing it all.

Dean tried to do what he always does and tucked the stunned grief he felt at losing him deep inside where the jagged edges couldn’t harm him. He rededicated himself to powering Jack up, to killing God, like finishing that would somehow make Cas’s sacrifice worth it. And when Jack became whatever it was that he became, Dean didn’t ask about Cas, even though the question was right there, trying to force its way out of his throat. Instead, he swallowed it back down. Cas had said that moment was the purest happiness he’d ever known and Dean didn’t know what to say next without defiling it.

It’s the shittiest version of waiting too long to text back until so much time has passed that it’s become awkward.

But now, with this piece of metal jabbed into what sure as fuck feels like some important organs, he finds he has some time to think. He’s got nothing left to lose, so he lets Cas’s name become an honest prayer.

The whoosh is nearly instantaneous, somehow closer than even the rushing of his pulse in his ears. It seems fitting that they’re back in a barn, although this time Dean’s the one being impaled. He hears a crackling, but it isn’t the lights showering him in sparks, just the anger flickering off of him, electricity as blue as his eyes.

He doesn’t even say it, no Hello, Dean, and yeah, Cas is pissed and Dean deserves that.

As Cas approaches, Dean realizes Sam doesn’t seem to notice him, in fact he’s faded out into the background so it’s just the two of them.

“You called?” His tone is cold, much closer to the first time they met in a barn than the last time they were together. Cas had been so human, then, emotion choking his words and filling his eyes with tears.

“I, uh, find myself in a bit of a pickle,” Dean says, and already that’s wrong.

Cas raises an eyebrow. “More like a piece of art hung on the wall.”

Dean’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. “Was that a joke?”

“What is it you need from me, Dean?”

It should be obvious, but Dean can’t seem to say it.

“The stories they will tell,” Cas begins, “of Dean Winchester, the greatest hunter of his time, brought down by a lowly nail.” He sighs, and holds out two fingers. “I can do this but it would’ve been nice if you’d at least kept up to date on your tetanus shots.”

Dean feels a grinding in his teeth that he probably can’t yet blame on lockjaw. He tries to duck out of Cas’s reach. “Okay, stop.”

With a look of surprise, Cas does.

“Listen, I know I should’ve contacted you earlier. I get you’re mad, I do, but all those things you said…I didn’t want you to come back and realize how wrong you were.”

“So you’ve been looking for a way to ‘let me down easy’,” he says, air quotes and all, and goddammit Dean loves him. He loves his cranky angel ass and his wild hair and stupidly blue eyes the way he’s insisted on leaving Dean affixed to this pole while they talk.

“I love you, too. I have for so long. I never dreamed you could feel the same way, not like that.” Dean can barely breathe now that he's said the words out loud.

“You’re a hard man to pin down, Dean Winchester.” There’s a small smile playing around Cas's mouth now, and the relief has Dean laughing much harder than he would at the terrible pun. It hurts and his laughter turns to a grimace. Cas touches his arm. “Let me heal you.”

But Dean shakes his head, reaching to take his hand instead. “I’m ready, Cas. Ready for what’s next. If you heal me, Sam’s going to stay and keep hunting and maybe that’s what he wants but maybe it isn’t. Either way, he’s never going to decide for himself while I’m still here.”

Cas’s face is as serious as Dean’s ever seen it, but he sees a flicker of hope in his eyes. “And you?”

“Thought maybe you could escort me upstairs and we could spend eternity making up for all we missed down here.” Cas’s face goes soft and Dean bring their joined hands to his mouth, kissing his knuckles gently. “I wish it would’ve been you,” Dean says softly. “Nailing me from behind like this.”

At that, Sam suddenly zooms back into focus, his face anguished. “Cas! Oh, thank God you’re here. Dean’s—“

“Sammy, stop. I’m okay. We got a change in plans, though.”

Confused, Sam looks between them, finally noticing their joined hands.

“We’re free now. Free to make our own choices and for once in my life I’m going to be selfish. I choose Cas. I dragged you back into this life and now I’m shoving you out of it again. You want to keep hunting? That’s up to you. But if you want to go find Eileen and settle down, that’s up to you, too.”

Sam blinks, clearly caught off guard. “Dean, are you sure?”

Dean catches Cas’s eye and they share a smile. “As sure as I’ve ever been.” Dean tries to reach for his brother to hug him, but he’s brought up short. “Cas, could you…”

“Of course, Dean.” With a wave of his hand, Dean’s free and he steps forward to embrace Sam. “Go have the life you always wanted. Have a bunch of fat babies and name one of them after me.”

Cas furrows his brow like maybe he’s seeing the future. “But don’t plaster his name on his clothing. That’s just basic child safety.”

It hurts him to see his little brother cry, but Dean knows this isn’t the end for them. “Tell them how I was the coolest and better looking brother.”

Sam nods. “I will definitely not do that.”

They hug one last time and Dean murmurs in his ear. “I love you and I’m proud of you. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Sam gives him one last bone-crushing squeeze before releasing him. “Take good care of him, Cas.”

“I will,” Cas promises.

Dean gives Cas his best blue steel. “Oh, he will.”

With that, Sam leaves and Dean knows he could never bear to watch him walk away without Cas strong and steady at his side.

Cas must sense the hesitation. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Dean answers him with a kiss.

#spn #spn spoilers #15x20 #coda fic #fix it fic #deancas #destiel #My writing

[loveinterestcastiel]

erosion

I wrote some endverse fic based on a @lateral-org post asking a FANTASTIC question:

When/why/how did endverse! cas get rid of the trenchcoat and what was dean's reaction?

Rated M. Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence. Word Count: 4.1k

tagged some mutuals and people I thought might be interested in this under the cut, if you want tagged in this/future fic or want me to remove your tag dm me!

erosion

Of course, Sam said yes in Detroit. So why dream about that? He lived it every day. The redundancy was irritating at best.

Where the fuck did I leave my boots last night? Cas cursed under his breath and embarked on a thorough search of their cabin, the coarse words warm and familiar on his tongue as he yanked on his socks. I really am starting to sound like Dean.

Dean’s boots were already gone, his gun and thigh holster absent too. He’d left his green jacket behind, tossed carelessly aside last night and hidden under the trenchcoat on the floor at the foot of their bed. He slipped his coat on over his clothes and shoved Dean’s jacket into their pack- he knew he’d want it later, even if it was just for the drive back. He slipped on the worn coat, habit- he’d stopped wasting Grace on its upkeep a while ago, but it was still important. It felt like comfort, in some strange way, so he kept on wearing it despite the worn-through elbows or the stubborn little bloodstained spot on the hem.

He’d dreamed of Detroit, last night, again. He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to dreaming, as unsettling and involuntary as it was. It felt like the unfair hijacking of an otherwise enjoyable human bodily function, and he resented it altogether. He snagged a bit of weed from his stash and tucked it in next to his flask, sweeping out the cabin door and into the frigid morning sunshine, giving Chuck a lazy wave as he ambled past his cabin to the truck lot, kicking little pebbles across the packed dirt at imaginary targets with a super-human precision that grated strangely on him today.

“Big run today,” Chuck said with a tentative smile, his hands clasping a chipped mug filled to the brim with his ridiculously indulgent tea, wafting a cascade of steam out over the railing of his cabin porch before dissipating into the air. “Don’t forget the perishables if you can get at them, ok? We’re seriously low on-”

“Toilet paper, milk, cheese, butter,” he interrupted, “plus sugar, flour, canned fruit, hygiene products, toothpaste, toilet paper, coffee, meat if we can get it, .35 and 9mm ammunition, mechanical oil, gasoline, propane, rubbing alcohol, gauze, surgical tape, toilet paper, paracetamol, and oh, toilet paper again!” Cas recited dryly, rolling his eyes. “You gave us a written list yesterday. Twice. Couldn’t fuck up blackout drunk.”

Chuck snorted, shaking his head in self-deprecation. “Just doing my job, Cas.”

“We’ll do ours,” he called over his shoulder, continuing down the central path briskly. “We’ve all got our part to play.”

What was it Lucifer had said to Dean, that night Zachariah stole him out from under Cas’s nose and threw him into the future? No matter what choices you make, whatever details you alter… we will always end up here.

It certainly seemed like he was right. Most days, it seemed like they were all hurtling towards the exact same place Dean had caught a wretched glimpse of, once, with the brakes slashed and emergency failsafes offline, and no indicator that the impossible choices they were making every day were anything but inevitable. He knew that Dean still had nightmares about his ending, but he didn’t know much else about Dean’s nightmares anymore but what little snippets he could garner from what Dean mumbled and cried out in his sleep. He’d lost the ability to dreamwalk a while back. Three nights after the Croatoan virus wiped out Fort Worth and they were forced to fall back, he tried to enter Dean’s sleep to watch his dreams in the dubious refuge of a closed down Motel 6 off of interstate 70 as they ran west, to see if there was some piece of information they’d missed, some new choice they could make one day that could change the path they were on.

It simply hadn’t worked. He mourned the loss of one more skill in the darkness of their room that night as Dean slept uneasily in the bed beside him, one more thing which, in its absence, made him ever more useless to Dean, much like the loss of his ability to time travel, or to smite their enemies with ease. Flight was becoming difficult by the day, and he knew in some part of his mind that his wings would be the next to go, and he would be grounded, permanently, on Earth and not in Heaven.

And so it goes.

Anyway, it wasn’t like they had much of a choice about anything these days. Once Michael had taken Adam, they lost their only trump card. Heaven didn’t need Dean anymore, but Hell desperately needed Sam. It was a shame, it really was, that Sam’s gamble hadn’t paid off.

It was a miracle Lucifer let Dean go. He had brushed him off as a non-threat. Unimportant on a cosmic scale, however important Dean was to the vessel. To Sam. So Dean walked out of that run down building alive, and he was the most beautiful, terrible thing Cas had ever seen. His soul shone brighter than even an archangel’s grace in his rage and trembled with the fierce sharpness of grief, and it was glorious, righteous.

Godly.

Even as Cas’s memories softened and blurred, becoming tinged with a mortal haze, that memory of Dean remained in a sparkling clarity. He could imagine no life, no moldable version of the past, in which he did not choose Dean. From the very first moment his soul had reached back to cling to Cas’s Grace in Hell, Cas had fallen, was falling, would fall, for Dean. It was inevitable, his love. They were inevitable. They fell together in the time after Detroit, into battle, into bed, and into cosmic obscurity. Soon, too soon, their losses began to outnumber their wins, and they had to make more and more certain regrettable sacrifices just to stay alive. Cas was used to collateral damage, far more than Dean was, but whatever the other humans in their ragged camp believed of him, he wasn’t unaffected. Just the opposite, in fact. He had never felt anything before, not for billions of years, an incomprehensible existence of light and intent and obedience and war, and now he felt everything. That- not Dean’s disappointment, or the slow loss of his Grace, or his Father’s unyielding silence- was undoubtedly the worst part of becoming something like human.

Some days were better than others, of course. Some days he took precious little blue or white or green pills, all different shapes and sizes and he felt good. Numb, pleased, far away. Quiet. Others, fewer than the days he had his pills, he took shrooms, LSD. Molly, twice. Often he took nothing at all, craving the wicked pain and emptiness it created in him as his sobriety enhanced the ache his dwindling Grace left behind, needing the punishment to feel real before forcing himself into a tumultuous sleep after days spent horribly awake with half a bottle of rotgut sloshing in his stomach. He still liked joints, rolled meticulously, their verdant smoke curling up deliciously in his lungs and setting him up on a lovely little metaphorical cloud the best, and then, they were even more so lovely when he shared them with Dean. There was nothing, nothing like passing it between them, before transitioning into trading hit after hit between their mouths, brushing against his soft lips, breathing his air, watching Dean’s cheeks flush a stunning pink and holding tight to his deep golden hair, dragging him down into slow, languid kisses that desire deepened and turned into a precious sort of holy consumption as the high hit its stride in them both.

He was sober today, mostly, just riding out the last of some gorgeous pink pill from a nearly full bottle he’d just scavenged out a few days before. It made him feel floaty, focused, fearless. He felt almost like he did two years ago, before his reeducation stint in Heaven. Angelic. It was nice. He’d take another, later. Maybe Dean would want to take one, too, and they could fuck high out under the stars on their quilt again like they did last October and feel like the real Gods of this stupid little planet, on top of the world, on top of Dean, cradled in the soft embrace of his thighs, and worship each other.

Take that, brothers. Castiel smiled viciously at the sky. You’ll never fuck God like I have.

Standing impatiently among their motley caravan of vehicles in the sickly yellow light of a midwestern April morning sun, his back to Cas, Dean’s silhouette and the flashing imprint of his soul- the only one Cas could still see clearly- caramelized into a sweet union of tangible and not that pulled at his stomach and swept him into the siren song of Dean’s being and woke up the hungry creature that lived in his heart and craved DeanDeanDeanDean.

No one else was there yet, probably all still dicking around at the camp mess and drinking shitty chicory. His feet fell silently on the earth, leaving behind the sound of the universe and the vibrant humming of Dean’s soul- and oh, he hoped he could always hear that symphony, even when all the rest of his powers had run dry.

Just as he reached out to take Dean by the shoulder and turn him around, Dean moved with a sudden burst of energy, like a coiled snake striking out. He whirled around and met Cas’s eyes, took him by the neck and the waist, and kissed him. His lips moved with a gentleness that contradicted the intensity of the grip of his cold-fingered hands as they worked their way into his hair, wormed their way under his trenchcoat, and touched the bare skin they found where the hem of his t-shirt met his jeans. He met the kiss eagerly, licking teasingly at the seam of his lips, biting down gently and coaxing Dean into opening his mouth. He pushed Dean back until his back hit the nearest rusted army-green truck with a small thudding noise, pressing himself up against Dean and tugging on his hips so they were pressed flush against each other, the contact sending and electric thrill racing up his spine.

“Cas,” Dean gasped out at the sensation of their bodies meeting, the air punched out of his lungs.

“Mmm, morning,” Cas murmured between kisses. “You’re out here early.” Dean’s neck was uncharacteristically bare above the neck of his rough brown sweater, creamy and invitingly unmarked. Cas indulged in the impulse to change that, working his way over the tender skin, sucking and biting until a bruise began to bloom below the junction of Dean’s jaw and neck, worrying it with his teeth until it was a deep reddish-purple.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Dean whispered, letting his head fall back against the truck window, baring his throat further, and closed his eyes. He seemed almost happy, today. He seemed to light up in the lead-up to their more dangerous missions, and Cas didn’t want to think about that right now. Didn’t want to ruin the moment. “Didn’t want to wake you up,” Dean elaborated.

“I appreciate that.” Satisfied with the rather outrageous hickey he’d created on Dean’s neck, Cas pressed it with one last kiss. “How’d you know I was behind you?” he asked, pressing their foreheads together and slowly grinding their hips together lazily, just breathing Dean in.

“Felt you,” Dean said, bringing their lips together again briefly. “Always can.” One more little kiss.

“Dean, last night, when you couldn’t sleep, I dreamed again about Detroit-” Cas started to confess feverishly, almost against his will, Dean stiffening up at his words in his arms, and was interrupted by the sound of people approaching, footsteps, voices, and an earsplitting wolf-whistle directed at their compromising position.

Dean’s face shuttered immediately, and Cas felt every scrap of easy bliss flee his body.

He pulled back with more than a little reluctance, his stomach twisting as a fakely jovial grin tugged at the corners of his lips, and clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Let’s go, fearless leader. We’ve got a mission to run, don’t you know?”

“Don’t start with that fearless leader shit,” Dean said tightly, rolling his eyes away from Castiel’s face and fixing on a point somewhere over Cas’s shoulder. “Who’s driving?”

“Looks like Cas is driving,” Joe called out mischievously.

Risa smacked him in the chest. “Get in the truck, idiot.” She turned her gaze to Dean, an odd glint in her eye. It felt sticky and wrong in his core but Cas stamped the feeling down. “Group brief over the radio on the way?” she asked.

“Yeah, at 8,” Dean said, sliding into his unshakeable militaristic persona with a firm nod. “Should be fairly straightforward in and out supply grab. Intel says the Croats cleared out of Roanoke a couple days ago, left major infrastructure and commerce sites relatively untouched. It’s a good thing too,” he added, “we were getting spread a little thin with most goods.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

———————————————————————

It was not, in fact, easy.

Their intel was wrong, so wrong, and Cas didn’t know how the fuck it happened, but they were fine, they were almost finished, closing up the trucks in the alley behind the supermarket and waiting for Dean and Trish to return from sweeping the perimeter, when out of what seemed like thin air and with no more than a broken shout for warning there were more Croats swarming them than he’d ever seen in one place before, and Joe and Maya and Kris were dead, and Dean was nowhere to be found.

The Croats had the remaining seven pinned down against the main truck, snarling and screeching and reeking of blood and gore, strips of flesh and clothing that once adorned their companions now dangling from their teeth. Their single-minded need for the endless consumption of human flesh and that it was currently being denied drove them to a terrifying frenzy, but the hunters were starting to push back, and the Croat numbers were thinning slowly but surely. Cas thought he saw Allen get bitten, but next he glanced at him he looked fine. He’d need to check on that if they made it out alive. He resigned himself quickly to the idea of killing the man before they got back to Chitaqua- Allen was a nice enough man, quick-witted and skilled with a blade and a loom, but nothing was worth bringing a Croat back to camp. He owed it to the man as a human being to grant him a swift death if he’d been infected before Allen himself could realize it. A shot to the back of the head, unawares, had to be better than a clumsy battle and inevitable stab to the chest (Cas knew he would always have the upper hand against a human, even when he had fallen in full) with fear in his heart.

He buried his angel blade to hilt in yet another Croat’s throat, yanking it out and ducking out of the way of the spray of blood that followed in a well-practiced motion uncanny in its speed. They would win this one.

But still no Dean.

Cas felt a bubbly panic rise up in his chest through the haze of battle as it became clear to him that Dean wasn’t coming back. Even from the other side of the building or from inside, there was no way that Dean had not heard the commotion of such a large fight.

Something was stopping Dean from coming back to him.

“Risa,” he shouted over the din to the woman on his left. “Dean and Trish-”

“I know,” she interjected tersely, hacking the head off of a skeletally thin Croat in a tattered suit. “Retrieval? We’ve got this handled here as long as this all the fucking bastards around.”

“I’m going in,” Cas said quickly, slicing at a particularly bold (stupid) Croat trying to charge him. It crumpled to the ground and twitched once, and was still. Some of its companions fell on the body ravenously, and were subsequently cut down in turn as they began to tear at the corpse. “Leave as soon as you’re able; I’ve got the keys to the main truck. Cover your right,” he warned Risa, and, sensing an opportunity in the parting sea of Croats before him, ran.

He was through the service doors of the building before the Croat hoard could even begin to respond to his escape, and their noises were quickly muffled by the service door as it locked automatically behind him, leaving him in relative quiet.

There were a surprising number of crates and boxes remaining in the storage and unloading zones, either empty or nearly so, and he quickly ascertained the area was, apart from himself, devoid of life or anything of interest to the camp.

Cas.

Dean's sudden prayer hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut.

Aisle... his mental voice trailed off for a second into indistinct sounds, colors, and waves of pain. Aisle seven. It's bad.

Cas shoved through the access door into the freezers, and out into the store with a recklessness he would have been ashamed of had he been so terrified.

He turned down aisle seven and skidded to a halt, frozen at the sight that greeted him, and tried to make sense of the hideously macabre tableau.

Trish's decapitated body lay the furthest from him, her ribcage torn open, her organs spilling over her arms and scattered in pieces over the floor. Three dead Croats, all headshots, around her remains. Then a bloody lake on the cheap linoleum tile, thick and viscous and so, so red, two more dead Croats, clearly more hard-won victories, their arms hacked at, heads partially removed, and nearly blocking the last body from view, wedged up against the shelves and bloody as it was.

"Cas," Dean wheezed, lifting his head laboriously to meet his eyes, blood bubbling up between his lips and staining them. "Cas, I'm so sorry-"

"No, no, don't talk like that," Cas said desperately, kneeling beside Dean. He took their pack of his back with shaking hands and shoved his angel blade somewhere inside. "We can fix this. You'll be okay."

"Cas-"

"You will!" he said, too loudly and startling himself.

"My ribs," Dean panted out in pained little gasps. "Broken. There's something in my back." He twitched minutely as if to show Cas the problem and immediately convulsed involuntarily at the pain the movement caused him, a horrible rattling moan in his throat. "My leg. Right one. Broken too." His jaw was clenched so tightly it was a miracle he could speak at all through the teeth-grinding pain he was in.

"Okay," Cas said faintly.

Cas...

Oh, he hated feeling. Sometimes he thought it made him useless. He missed being cold. Brutal, uncaring about pain or death. But this was Dean, and he'd never actually been particularly good at being a machine, anyway. "Okay. Dean, I need to see your back," he warned him, before moving him as gently as he could and angling his body so that he could get an unobstructed view of his back.

There was a crude metal stake wedged just an inch to the left of his second and third thoracic vertebrae, rusted, twisted and cruel-looking.

"Dean, I- I have to try to heal you," he said slowly, knowing that Dean wouldn't want him to be wasteful with his Grace. But this was beyond what human field medicine could help.

Dean didn't respond. He'd fallen unconscious.

"Oh no, no, no, baby," he babbled under his breath, trying to figure out the best way to extract the bar of metal. "Hold on," he muttered, grasping the stake firmly and bracing Dean's body against his own, trying to avoid fucking his broken ribs up more.

"Father, please, if you're still here, if you're listening, if you care at all," he begged, "help me."

Of course, his Father didn't answer. Gritting his teeth, Cas yanked out the stake and tossed it aside, immediately covering the wound with his hand. He summoned his Grace together and it responded sluggishly, but his hand was glowing and Dean's back was knitting back together.

As the skin merged into a puckered, raw-looking pink scar, Cas dropped his hand away from the wound and found himself utterly breathless, gasping for air and drained.

Dean was still unconscious.

He leaned Dean back up against the shelving and took a moment to figure out what to do next. Dean was still dying. He was still in danger. He couldn't be moved, nor could they stay put. He quickly opened up their pack and realized in horror that all the medical supplies were with Risa and AJ on the trucks and so, so far away by now.

He yanked his coat off with a twinge of regret. It was bloodied and worn and what he was about to do with it felt like a milestone he was loathe to reach.

He shredded it into long, wide strips, not letting himself think of how it was the last piece of Jimmy Novak, or how he had repaid the man's sacrifice by being party to the end of the world they both wanted to protect, or how Claire Novak had stopped praying to him weeks ago, now. He got on with the job, this is just a job, I can fix this-

He managed to wrap Dean's leg up decently tight, straight and stiff, but he had quickly discovered it was broken in several places. He didn't know what he could do for Dean's ribs, and he felt, as if from a distance, how Dean's breath was coming shallower and shallower, and he made his choice.

He laid his left hand on Dean's broken leg, as gently as he could. Leaning forward, he smoothed the wispy little baby hairs he loved to tease Dean about back, off his sweaty, pained, precious face, and, placing his right hand on Dean's crushed ribs, near his heart, touched their foreheads together. He looked at Dean's soul, his shining, beautiful (fading) soul and knew.

"I love you," Cas whispered, his voice wrecked. With that finally said, he grabbed his exhausted, weary Grace, and though it fought him and slipped through his grasp, he got hold of it and he pushed everything he could, everything he was into his hands, into Dean.

When he had done it, when he had drained himself down to mists and vapors, and had saved Dean, he gathered him in his arms, and carried him back to the truck on numb feet, leaving the scraps of Jimmy's coat behind in aisle seven.

When the truck broke down thirty miles from Chitaqua, and their radio too, he turned to Dean, pulling on a blue-ish jacket they'd picked up earlier during the run. It fit well.

"It's a good look for you," Dean said gruffly, staring at Cas with an expression he could not recognize. There was blood still smeared on his cheekbone, he noted absently.

"Oh. Yes. Well, thank you," Cas answered, adjusting the sleeves.

Dean tugged at the tan fabric strips on his leg, wincing at the pressure.

"You did a good job, Cas. With this fabric splint from your coat-"

"I know you won't be able to walk it," Cas said quietly, unable to meet his eyes even as he interrupted him. "I did what I could, but you'll be weak for days. You need time."

"You can leave me, Cas," Dean said, a strange, pinched guilt-pain-tenderness on his face. "You can come back for me."

"No," Cas said, smiling, and choking, and took Dean's cheek in the palm of his hand with a terrible ache rising in his throat. "I can't."

April 19th, 2012, under the peak of the Lyrids meteor showers, Cas flew for the last time, right up to the gates of the camp.

When they landed, a millisecond and millennia later, his wings burned away into nothingness in a wave of electric, minty-white pain that forced him to the ground. In the aftermath, panting and sweating and shaking in Dean's arms and clutching at his handprint on Dean's shoulder, he realized his Grace, or what was left of it, anyway, had consolidated into a bright little ball in his chest. Like a soul.

The realization was followed by another. Despite his earlier conviction that it would one day be lost to him, he could still see Dean's soul- behind his teeth, in his chest, radiant like a halo around his head, and worth, a million times over, and a million again, falling for.

Tagged:

@heller-jensen @sunforgrace @rambleoncas @adhdeancas @evermorecastiel @holmesemrys @plantdadcas @good-things-do-happen-dean @jeanne-de-valois @autisticandroids @sonder-stars @yana125 @faithcastiel @cascreamtiel @seffersonjtarship @i-sing-for-me @purgatorybi @bibelphegor @cowboyslikedean @gracefuldean @dimples-of-discontent @judaskissdean @wafflehousegothic @icaruscastiel @67chevyimpala67 @lesbianjenderenvy

#destiel #destiel fic #endverse!destiel #endverse!cas #not immune to endverse cas i repeat not immune vaccine needed now #my fic #my writing #dean winchester #castiel

[soupyboysforlife]

Suits/Rainbows

Day 2/3 of Ink/Suptober

Dean pulled at the itchy fabric, mumbling under his breath about hating the feeling. His face gave him away. A smile pulled at his mouth and his eyes shone with excitement. “Dean, it’s not even for one day. Cut the crap,” Sammy said, adjusting his tie, “It’s your wedding day.”

“You’re right, no more whining. Today is going to be great,” he said, taking a nervous breath.

“It will be,” Sam reassured him, patting him on the shoulder. He brought his wrist up, checking the time on his watch, “Cas should be here soon. Are you gonna see each other before it starts?”

“Isn’t that bad luck or something?” Dean asked, “Or is that just for a bride?”

“Huh, I didn’t think about it like that.”

Just then, the door opened. Charlie peeked her head in, “He’s here,” she said, her face lighting up when she saw Dean and Sam, “Awe, you two look amazing!” Dean flushed at the praise. He looked at himself in the mirror. Despite how uncomfortable the suit was, it fit him perfectly. “Oh, I have something for you,” Charlie said, stepping into the room. She shut the door behind her, Something was clutched in her hand. Once she was in the room she held it up. Dean laughed when he saw the tiny bisexual pride flag in her hands. The silky material shone in the light. “It’s a pocket square, for your suit. I gave one to Cas too,” She smiled, handing it to Dean.

Dean accepted it gratefully. Something on the corner of the cloth caught his eye. His breath hitched when he saw the letters embroidered into it. ‘CW’ and ‘DW’ intertwined in swirly gold lettering. He traced his fingers over them as tears started to well up in his eyes. This was happening. Really happening.

“Dean? You okay?” Sam asked, looking at him worried.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, hoping his voice sounded steady. He reached up, whipping away some of the tears that had spilled over. “Yeah,” he said again more confidently, “Thanks, Charlie. I love it.” He pulled her into a tight hug.

“Anything for you guys, you helped me so much, it's the least I could do,” she said into his shoulder. “I’d better change,” she pulled out of the hug. “Your groom awaits you,” she said with a bow before heading out the door.

Dean watched her go, turning back to the mirror once the door shut. He folded the napkin up and put it in his pocket, making sure every color was visible. It added a nice contrast to the black suit and tie. He smiled at the reflection. “I’m ready,” he said, adjusting the tie one more time before looking over towards Sam.

Sam smiled at him, “Let’s go.”

Dean followed him out into the hall. Cas was at the end of it, talking to Charlie. She looked over at them when they walked out. She tapped Cas’s shoulder, cuing him to turn. His smile softened when he met Dean’s eyes. He was wearing a white suit and tie with a black shirt, the inverse of Dean. A rainbow-striped pocket square poked out of his pocket. Charlie probably gave it to him.

“Hi,” he murmured once Dean made his way down the hall.

“Hi,” Dean said back.

“You look,” Cas started, gesturing with his hands when he couldn’t think of a word.

“You too,” Dean smiled, not bothering to finish the sentence. He pulled Cas into a gentle kiss, not able to wait any longer.

“Wait,” Cas said, pulling back, “Isn’t this bad luck?”

“We decided that only applies to brides. Neither of us are brides so I’m pretty sure we’ll be okay,” Dean reasoned. Cas shrugged, leaning back into the kiss.

Sam cleared his throat. Dean pulled out of the kiss, shooting him an annoyed look. He tapped his watch in response. Dean rolled his eyes, pecking Cas on the lips once more. “You look amazing, by the way,” he said, turning to Charlie.

“Yes,” Cas agreed.

“Thank you,” she smiled, smoothing down the jacket of her suit.

Bobby greeted them when they went outside. The courtyard was decked out. A large arch stood at one end. White flowers hung off of it in intervals. Rows of white, fold-up chairs surrounded the aisle leading up to it, connected by a rainbow lace rope. String lights were hung from poles staggered around the yard.

“It’s beautiful, Bobby,” Charlie breathed, admiring the scene.

“It is,” Dean agreed, smiling at him, “Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” Bobby smiled back.

“And thank you for agreeing to officiate, too,” Cas cut in.

“Someone needed to do it,” Bobby said.

“We should go back inside,” Dean said, “everyone will be here soon.”

“Yes, we should,” Cas agreed, his arm wrapped around Dean’s waist.

They watched as guests started filling in the seats. Time seemed to be moving too fast and yet all too slow as the seconds ticked closer to the wedding. Jack had shown up a few minutes after they had headed inside again. Dean paced the room.

“It’ll be okay,” Cas comforted, walking over to where Dean had stopped to peek out the window again. He hugged Dean from the back, his chin resting on his shoulder. Dean leaned back a little into Cas at the touch. Their cheeks pressed together.

“I know,” he hummed. He watched Sam lead Ellen, Jo, and Ash to their seats.

“Dean, look at me,” Cas said, pulling his head off Dean’s shoulder. Dean turned in his arms, “I love you. No matter what. If you don’t want this-”

“I do,” Dean interrupted.

“Okay, but if you don’t. We’ll call it off,” Cas said.

Dean knew he was trying to comfort him but his stomach sank, “Do you?” he asked, hurt creeping into his voice.

“Of course,” Cas said. Dean searched his eyes for any sign of doubt. He sighed, feeling better when he found none. “Let’s save the ‘I Do’s’ for the altar though,” he said, making Dean chuckle. He leaned up, planting a kiss on Cas’s forehead.

“It’s almost time,” Sam said, leading Charlie in through the door. Dean pulled out of Cas’s arms, meeting Sam at the door. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” he muttered back nervously.

“Let’s do this thing, bitches,” Charlie exclaimed.

Jack stood in front of the door, holding a small pillow with two rings on it. Sam and Dean took their place behind him, followed by Charlie and Cas. They listened closely as the muffled noise outside the door grew quiet. It was soon replaced by the sound of an orchestra playing an instrumental version of Turning Page by Sleeping At Last.

Jack opened the door at the cue, starting the procession out. Sam offered his arm. Dean took it, taking one final deep breath before stepping forward. “You’re gonna do great,” Sam reassured him, “You got your vows?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, his eyes flicked over the familiar faces smiling at him, fixing on the arch in front of him. Bobby stood there, dressed in a black suit. A bowtie was strung around his neck. If Dean wasn’t so nervous, he would have laughed.

Sam pulled him into a tight hug when they reached the front. “Good luck, Jerk,” He whispered to Dean.

“Bitch,” Dean chuckled back. They separated, going to their places. Dean situated himself to the right of where Bobby was standing, turning towards the door he’d just come out of. On cue, Cas and Charlie stepped out of the doorway. Heads turned and green eyes met blue as the pair strolled slowly down the aisle. They mirrored Sam and Dean when they reached the front. Cas came to stand to the left of Bobby in front of Dean.

“Hi again,” Dean whispered.

“Hi again,” Cas copied.

The music came to a stop and Bobby started talking. Dean barely registered what he was saying, focused on the man in front of him. His soon-to-be husband.

“You all know me, and if you don’t the name’s Bobby, and I have the privilege of performing the ceremony today. First off I’d like to welcome and thank you on behalf of Dean and Castiel for sharing this special day with them. By attending you celebrate with them the love they have discovered in each other and you support their decision to commit themselves to one another for the rest of their lives. Today we celebrate love. We come together to witness and proclaim the joining together of these two persons in marriage. This is the union of two individuals in heart, body, mind, and spirit, Therefore, marriage is not to be entered into lightly, but reverently, honestly, and deliberately. And it is into this union that Dean and Castiel come now to be joined.

Dean, you were more of a Son to me than anything I could have hoped for. I’m glad that you trust me enough to do this for you. Seeing you happy and in love is everything I could have wished for and more. I’m proud of you, son. Now I will admit I am a sentimental old fool so let’s get this started before I start crying,” the crowd chuckled.

“Dean, you have chosen Castiel to be your life partner. Will you love and respect him? Will you be honest with him always? Will you stand by him through whatever may come?” Bobby asked.

“I will,” Dean answered, smiling softly at Cas.

“And you Castiel, you have chosen Dean to be your life partner. Will you love and respect him? Will you be honest with him always? Will you stand by him through whatever may come?” Bobby asked again.

“I will,” Cas answered, smiling back at Dean.

“And do you both promise to make the necessary adjustments in your personal lives so that you may live in a harmonious relationship together?”

“We do,” they answered in unison.

“Now in the spirit of joy and affirmation, I want to ask your families and friends a question. Do you, the families and friends of Dean and Cas, give them your blessing and support this day, wishing them a wonderful life together?” Bobby addressed the crowd.

“We do,” they murmured in response.

“Dean and Cas, now we come to your vows. May I remind you that saying your vows are one thing but nothing is more challenging than living them day by day. What you promise today must be renewed tomorrow and each day that stretches out before you. You wrote your own so I’ll hand this off to you, Dean,” Bobby said, gesturing to him.

He took a deep breath, pulling out the piece of paper he’d scribbled his vows on, “Cas,” he started, glancing up at him nervously, “Before we met, I didn’t think I could love someone like this. I spent almost my whole life on the road, it was my past, present, and future. You changed all of that. You brought something into my life that I never thought I could have. You threw my life off course in the best, most unexpected way. We’ve been through so much, we were torn apart more times than I can count, but we always found our way back to each other. No matter what. I would be honored to spend my life with you. I love you, Cas.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Bobby said, turning to Cas, “Your turn.”

Cas smiled at him, wiping away the tears that had gathered in the corner of his eyes. He fished in his pocket, pulling out a paper that matched Dean’s, “Dean, ever since we met, knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about the whole world because of you. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know. You have taught me so much. You showed me what true happiness and love feel like. You mean the world to me and more. There’s no one in the world I’d rather share this and every moment for the rest of my life with. I love you so much, Dean.”

At this point, sniffs were ringing from everywhere. Bobby cleared his throat, “Thank you, Cas. May I have the rings now?” Jack stepped forward, holding the pillow in his hands. Cas took one and Dean took the other. “Dean,” Bobby prompted him.

Dean cleared his throat, “Cas, I give you this ring, that you may wear it, as a symbol of the vows we have made this day. I pledge you my love and respect, my laughter and my tears. With all that I am, I honor you,” he said, taking Cas’s hand and slipping the gold ring on. He gave it a little squeeze before letting go.

“Dean, I give you this ring, that you may wear it, as a symbol of the vows we have made this day. I pledge you my love and respect, my laughter and my tears. With all that I am, I honor you,” Cas repeated, his voice thick. Dean held out his hand and Cas slipped on the ring.

“Now may those who wear these rings live in love all their days. Now may the love, which has brought you together, continue to grow and enrich your lives. May you continue to meet with courage any problems, which may arise to challenge you. May your relationship always be one of love and trust. May the happiness you share today be with you always. And may everything you have said and done here today become a living truth in your lives.

“Dean and Castiel, we have heard your promise to share your lives in marriage. We recognize and respect the covenant you have made here this day before each one of us as witnesses. Therefore in the honesty and sincerity of what you have said and done here today and by the power vested in me by the internet, it is my honor and delight to declare you married and partners in life...for life.

“You may seal your vows with a kiss,” Bobby finished, smiling. Dean lunged forward, meeting Cas halfway. He heard people cheering and clapping in the background but couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was married. To Cas. And it was the best feeling in the world.

Bangs rang from either side of them, startling them out of the kiss. Rainbow confetti was falling around them. Charlie winked at him from over Cas’s shoulder, she had a confetti gun in her hand. Dean let out a full-body laugh which was promptly cut short when Cas pulled him in for another kiss.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34298860

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #supernatural finale #spn final episodes #destiel #destiel feels #destiel fluff #destiel fanfic #fanfic writer #fanfic writing #mlm fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #destiel wedding #destiel confession #destiel cute #destiel songs #destiel shippers #supernatural destiel #suptober21 #rainbow #suits #inktober #inktober day 2/3 #ao3 writer

[nonbinarychaoticstupid]

do 41 for catradora

ghost/living person au

behold! another thing i banged out and didn’t edit! kjjdnjjhdn this was fun! i decided to call it hello, my old heart after this song because i am cruel

(also... i think after i write the sequel bc i can’t just leave it like that i might expand this at some point or maybe write multiple versions? i like this a lot jejtnjrtnrnnm)

Adora doesn’t remember most of her childhood. Or much after that, really.

Everything up to the age of 18 is a... haze. Memories of life, of friends, of her identity, are either buried so deep she has to struggle to find them, or gone entirely. Faces, names, places, all gone somewhere she can’t follow.

It’s a given at this point, another piece of the debris of a life her carers left her with. She can’t fix it, and she can function without knowing her neighbour’s favourite colour, so why does it matter? It doesn’t hinder her too much, nor does it really make an impact on her functionality. It does annoy her, though, for reasons she can’t really explain.

There are things left behind in the fog of memory she... needs. Things that might explain this hole in heart, this deadening sense of loss that seems to follow her everywhere now. Things that might make everything make sense again.

Specifically, there’s... a memory of the traces of a memory. Someone Adora hurt, or someone who hurt Adora, or maybe both. And the girl who walked by her side for the first 18 years of her life, the girl who vanished at the drop of a hat, the girl she didn’t allow herself to grieve for. 

She knows how important the girl was to her. And missing her, dreaming about her without knowing why, hurts more than the loss. There’s something... something between them she has to fix. And it might hold the key to everything.

If she could remember, if she could find those shattered memories and piece them back together, she might remember why they took her past from her, and why Catra vanished. Why Catra died.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She doesn’t know exactly why she came here, to the shell of the abandoned home on the hillside. Maybe because it holds her last memory of a memory of Catra, alive and standing in front of her, laughing as she turns to push the door open. Maybe because it’s where she feels her memories... return, in whatever capacity they are able to,

It’s darker than she remembers it. The hole in the roof has since been covered with tarpaulin and framed with a web of crumbling scaffolding, leaving dark, angular shadows climbing the walls and forming ominous shapes on the floor. Adora couldn’t begin to try and decipher the patterns there if she tried.

If she focuses, she can trace the paths they left in the dust together as kids, winding around battered marble columns and up the staircases and back down again, like trails in the snow. 

Like... 

Adora pushes back the tears. Why am I crying? What is it about this place that-

Oh.

A memory. Of... her.

“You’re trying to remember me, aren’t you? Stars, I’m so sorry, Adora.”  

If she focuses, she can remember the first day they came here together, a pair of awkward 14 year olds with too much energy and too little time, and hid in the shadow of the stairs on the left, waiting for the night to pass. The details are blurred together, half-buried under a white haze, but if Adora tries, maybe she can -

She can’t. 

“You can. If you want, you can. What they did to you - it isn’t permanent. You can break out of it if you try. It’ll hurt, but you can. I did.”

She shakes the - the memory (a memory, nothing else - something she’ll have to sit and examine later) off. 

Adora picks her way across the floor, careful not to disturb the spiderweb of shadows. It feels... familiar, instinctual. Something more than muscle memory. Almost... almost like she’s being guided by the past she can’t reach.

There are memories here. Adora can feel them in the back of her mind, pushing her gently forwards, urging her on. 

She makes her way into the centre of the main hall of the building - it was a mansion once, she realises - and tries to picture it as it was before - well-lit, grand, beautiful. She tries to see it how Catra would have (because she knows how much she loved this place, even if she doesn’t remember it), filled with stars and candles. 

Adora switches off the torch and stretches out her hands, as though feeling her way forward, except there’s nothing to touch but air. And it feels... heavy. Like she’s being watched.

Except there’s no-one here. She’s alone. 

I’m alone. I’m alone... right?

“No.”

A growing feeling of terror rises, unbidden, in her chest, and she whirls around, brandishing the torch in front of her like some sort of sword, doing her best to  clamp down on the cry building in her throat.

Nobody. Nobody’s there. 

“I am. I’m right here. Adora, I’m right here -”

Adora lets her shoulders drop. She feels... defeated, for some reason. Empty. 

But the feeling doesn’t go away. And she can’t leave until something happens. She can’t leave until - until she gets her answers.

“What answers do you want, princess?” 

Okay, the voice was definitely real that time.

Adora spins around again, nearly dropping the torch, and - there she is. Or rather, a memory of her - a girl no older than seven, with a tangle of dark hair and vivid heterochromatic eyes, her outline flickering and fading and - 

She reaches out to touch her - and is met with empty air. The girl meets her eyes, and something in them looks so desperate that it makes her breath catch in her lungs, and then she just - vanishes. Melts into nothing. 

She almost cries out. Almost fucking sobs. Because she was right there, all the answers could have been within her reach, and she just watched the girl she almost remembers melt into dust- 

“Not her,” the voice tells her gently. “She’s not real. She used to be, but she isn’t now.” 

Adora shakes her head and doesn’t answer. 

“There are more of them here. Memories. Kinda.” 

“What happened to her?” Adora whispers. They’re the first words she’s spoken in a while, and her voice sounds disjointed and out of place, echoing over and over down the hallways.

Something settles on her shoulder (at least, she thinks it does). “She’s... a fragment. That’s the only way I can think of describing it.” A laugh, one she... recognises. “I think they’re all part of the memories they took from you. They’re shadows. I’m the only real one. Well, real-ish.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Turn around.” 

Her limbs don’t want to co-operate. Because I’m afraid of what I might see.

It takes a monumental effort to get to herself to rise, turn inch by inch, raise her eyes past the cracked floorboards. It takes even more to comprehend what she’s seeing.

“Hey, Adora.”

Catra. It’s - Catra.

Catra - but not. Not quite the girl she watched disappear from her memories three years ago. Her eyes are slightly hollower, her hair is shorter, and she’s... dead.

Very obviously dead, too. It’s not like Adora could miss a stab wound in the front of her shirt.

But... but she’s there, she’s standing right in front of her, wearing an infuriatingly familiar half-smile, and she wants to cry - 

“Ca... Catra?”

Her smile widens. “That’s me.”

“You’re here,” she whispers, and it comes out as more of a sob. She’s here she’s here she’s here she’s here - 

“You’re here,” Catra - Catra -  echoes, beaming. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” 

And Adora can’t do anything except let out a small sobbing noise in response. 

“Do you... remember?” she asks softly, hesitantly, hands toying with the fraying hem of her shirt. 

Adora shakes her head. “Not... much. I remember knowing you.”

Catra nods carefully. Her form has this odd translucent quality to it; she wonders if touching it would cause her to flicker like a hologram and vanish, only to re-materialise again in another place. “That’s something,” she offers. “Better than I’d hoped for, to be honest.” 

Her eyes fix on the torch in Adora’s hand, then flick back up. “I’d put that away if I were you. Light kind of... uh, dispels ghosts. That’s what I am. A ghost.” A smile. “I think.”

Adora stuffs it into her pocket without registering the movement. “H-how -”

“How do ghosts work?” Catra guesses. “Not sure. How am I a ghost? Again, not sure.” She shrugs, as though brushing it off. “It’s been... a long time.”

“I missed you,” she says, in a much smaller voice than she expected. “I missed you so much. I missed - I missed knowing you. I-” 

Catra smiles, and the movement causes her face to flicker at the edges, like static. “I missed you too. A lot.”

Adora bites back a sob. “Wha- What happened to you? How did you- ?” She shakes her head, shrugs. “Long story.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Adora catches herself staring at the outline of her form, the trails of half-shadows it leaves on the floorboards. In the half-light, she could almost be real. Alive.

She’s dead. She’s dead. It would hurt less if it wasn’t so clearly her fault.

“And - what about you?” Catra asks, breaking into her thoughts (which is a relief). There’s genuine concern in her eyes, she realises. 

She really cares about me. I must’ve cared about her, too - I do care about her. I just - why?

“I... also a long story. I think you know most of it already.” She huffs a laugh, blinking back tears. “More than me, at least.”

Catra nods again, slowly. Her eyes flick up and down, taking everything in like she’s seeing it for the first time. And some sort of realisation crosses them, then fades away as quickly as it came. 

“Do you want to... come back?” she asks. 

“Come back?”

“Come back. To the house. I could... I could show you what happened. If you want. It’s getting late, and Glimmer’ll be worried about you.”

Despite herself, Adora almost laughs. “You’re worried about me getting in trouble with my roommate for coming home late?”

Catra grins. “I’ve interacted with Sparkles before. She’ll be pissed, trust me.”

Adora smiles too, and for a moment, it could almost be - before again. Before her memories cut off and leave her with a white wall of nothing. Before Catra died.

“I don’t know if I can,” she says softly. “I might be... I might be dreaming, or you’ll be gone when I come back, or -”

“Trust me, I’m not going anywhere,” Catra cuts in. “I kind of can’t.”

She sits down on the floor and crosses her legs, a clear request for Adora to join her. “It’d be easier if I show you now, but I don’t want to make you pass out and have to figure out how to cart your ass back home.”

“Show me what?” Adora breathes. This is it. This is it. I might be able to... to fix things. Finally.

“What happened to me. And what happened to you. It’s a long story, like I said.” She smiles at her, a little sadly, and presses her palms flat against the floorboards as she sits down. Adora wonders vacantly if she can feel it, if her hands are passing through the wood right now, if she’s solid or just a... a ghost.

If she’s really gone.

Thinking about it fills her with an even deeper sense of loss, somehow. She can’t shake the feeling that it’s her fault, even if she knows that’s not true. And it hurts.

For a moment, they sit facing each other under the shattered skylight, and it could almost be - a memory she can’t quite reach. It could almost be just them again, like she knows they were.

“Are you sure you’ll be able handle this now?”

She nods. Once.

Catra gives her a small, sad smile. Her eyes are transparent, filled with guilt and an emotion she can’t quite place.

The room starts to fill with a soft blue light. It creeps up through the floorboards, making the shadows stand upright and wheel towards the fractured ceiling, making Catra seem to glow from within. Adora has to force herself not to stare (then wonders why).

Smoke tendrils begin curling up through the floor beneath them, wrapping around their legs. She swallows her panic in time to see Catra lift her hands from the wood, leaving scorch marks in their wake, and glance encouragingly up at her. It’s... comforting. Familiar.

“Try to relax, okay?”

Adora nods again. “Okay,” she whispers. It’s all she can manage.

The smoke curls up around her torso and expands, filling the entire room with a blue haze. She narrows her eyes against the strengthening glow, closes them entirely - and opens them again when the door swings open and nearly flies off its hinges.

Before she can move, before she can do anything but cry out, Catra’s hands - Catra’s solid, real hands - clamp as gently as possible down on her shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not real,” she whispers. “They can’t hurt us again.”

“Again?”

She turns to meet Catra’s eyes, and for the first time since they saw each other, she looks... serious.

“Again.”

And two kids come running through the door.

Adora almost gasps again, because... because it’s her. Her and Catra, covered in mud and soaking wet and shivering, hair in disarray, eyes filled with sheer terror.

As soon as Catra skids in, past Adora slams the door shut, hinges screaming in protest. She watches it happen as though underwater. It feels... it feels familiar. That fear in their eyes - it’s real, and she remembers it. Except she doesn’t.

“Are you okay?”

Past Catra nods, clutching her wrist to her chest. “I’m fine. Are they gone?”

“I don’t think so.” Past Adora jogs over to her and helps her to her feet, smiling faintly. Despite everything, despite the wound at her temple and the blood caked on the hem of her shirt, despite the rain and the terror in her eyes, she’s smiling.

And Adora... remembers.

She remembers everything at once, a hail of flashing images and thoughts and words and feelings. She remembers emotions she didn’t even know she had experienced - burning, horrific grief, loss, missing her so badly she wants to scream at the sky and quite literally burst into flame, choking on sobs in bed - sheer, unending terror, pushed deep down into the centre of her chest, the need to protect, protect her, keep her safe, because she can’t be scared if Catra is - 

Someone is calling her name.

Someone is... Catra is calling for her, holding her against her chest as she trembles, whispering her name over and over again in her ear. 

“Adora, Adora - “

And Past Catra... Past Catra is bent over on the wood, coughing and crying her name, letting out choking sobs, a hand pressed over the wound in the centre of her chest. The door has been blown open again, letting in the wind and the rain, and Past Adora is gone.

“I’m-” She sits up, which is much more of a struggle than it should be. “I’m here. What happened?”

Catra gives her a concerned look. “You- passed out, I think. I mean, I know I said you would, but I didn’t expect.... this.” 

Her voice has begun to distort again, fading into a soft, static hum. The vision, or whatever it was, has begun to flicker and die into nothing, the threads fraying and unravelling until all that’s left is the girl bleeding out in the middle of the room.

Adora detaches herself from Catra’s fading grip as carefully as possible. Because, fuck, the things she remembers-

“You didn’t see half of that, did you?”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t.”

Catra’s face falls slightly. Adora can’t even imagine what the experience was like for her, having to relive her death again for the sake of her memory. 

“But I did...” She clears her throat, rests a hand inches away from Catra’s. “I did remember. Everything.”

Her eyes light up from within, something that has nothing to do with the faded blue glow sinking back through the floorboards. “You did?”

Adora nods. The movement makes her head spin. She remembers... everything. Especially falling in love with the girl sitting opposite her, watching her with wide eyes. Especially the - the magic they tried to wield on her to make her forget, to make her immune to loving. And the way she tried to escape, to take Catra with her to keep her out of their reach, and it backfired in the worst way possible. She remembers her memories being stolen from her one by one, sucking the grief out of her until there was nothing left. 

Most importantly, she remembers waking up in her bed and feeling for the space where Catra should have been the day after they told her she was dead.

“I did,” she whispers. 

Silence stretches out between them, and Adora wonders if they could possibly be thinking about the same thing. 

Without saying anything, without thinking twice, she blurts, “I love you.” 

Catra’s eyes widen.

“We never said that. When you were alive. I always regretted that. I wanted to tell you, and I never got to, and I’m sorry for that. But, stars, Catra, I love you. I love you.”

She’s staring at her like she’s never seen her before, like she did the night - the night they kissed for the first time, the night she can remember with almost perfect clarity now, the night that was hidden from her for so long - 

“Adora -”

“I know it’s been - wow, it’s been years - and I know so much has changed, but I just - I have to tell you that. I have to -”

And Catra laughs. Softly. Her hand comes down and through Adora’s, leaving a wave of - of warmth in its wake, and settles against her palm, and it feels so close to getting to hold her again she swears she could cry again.

“I love you too, idiot.”

#sep texxt #ask #blondhairedgoblin #writing #writing ask #she ra #spop #adora #catra #catradora #tw death #tw death mention #tw gore #tw blood #ask to tag #SHES OUT :D #sep's writing

[notfunnydean]

Jingle Bells

Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel Warnings: spoiler s15, post season 15 Word Count: 2.638 Challenge: For the @destielsecretsanta2020​  Summary: Dean doesn’t want to celebrate Christmas. He misses Castiel, but maybe he can pull pranks on their guests to cheer himself up? Sadly that backfires. Or, well, good that it does. Link (if posted on AO3): https://archiveofourown.org/works/28314183

This is for @endgamecasdean​  ❤️️ I really hope you enjoy this! It was a lot of fun to write it x 

______________________________________________________________

“Really Dean?” Sam asks and he sounds so annoyed. Dean can’t help but chuckle to himself, because everyone knows he kinda loves to annoy his little brother, even on christmas! 

“Hey, you wanted this to be a ‘real christmas’ - whatever that means.” Dean says and he even does the air quotes, just like Castiel. Dean really hopes he doesn’t blush.

“Of course, I mean we’re finally free and Dean as much as I liked our Christmases just between us two, but don’t you think we deserve a little bit more?” Sam asks and Dean swallows around nothing.

“Yeah… I mean sure, you do deserve a nice Christmas. I just think it’s a bit much?” Dean says and he shrugs a bit. Of course he wants Sam to be happy and he knows that Sam is happy most of these days.

“If you do need a break, you could always excuse yourself, but it’s just our family.” Sam says and Dean knows he’s right.

They planned this christmas party in the bunker a few weeks ago and Sam had invited all their friends and family. Dean loves them and he knows that a few of them really enjoy christmas, he wouldn’t want to destroy that.

“It’s all good. I got the food ready too and I’m sure the first ones will be here in like 5 minutes.” Dean says and he nods over to the huge table in their library. He had cooked so much all day.

“Which is why I asked you in the first place. Really mistletoes?” Sam says and he points at the one, Dean just hung up. Dean grins.

“Well christmas traditions and all that.” Dean says and Sam shakes his head, but he is grinning himself. Honestly Dean wasn’t even hoping for some kiss himself, but he knows there are a few people he’d like to make happy.

“Don’t think anyone will fall for that, but please if you’re having so much fun.” Sam says and he shakes his head again, because Dean put five mistletoes up in total and he has his phone ready to take some pictures.

“Ha we’ll see.” Dean says and gets down the ladder, just as it rings at their door. Dean rubs his hands and looks after the food, as Sam opens the door. He can hear Claire already and Dean smiles.

Sam was right, he had missed his family and while he didn’t really need Christmas, he’s glad to see them again.

“Where’s my boy?” Jody asks, when she walks into the library and Dean hastily opens his arms. Jody hugs him tight.

“I missed you.” Dean says quietly and he knows with Jody he can talk about things like that. She always understands him. Jody smiles softly.

“I’m so glad you’re all okay.” Jody says and Dean can’t put his own feelings into words. He’s proud of Jack for being their new god and he knows Jack will do a fantastic job. Even… he even got Castiel back.

Not that the angel showed his face to them since then. Dean’s heart aches and he pushes the thought aside.

“Dean!” Claire is next and Dean smiles at the sight of her. She’s holding Kaia’s hand and Dean is happy that at least some people seem to have found their luck. They all know how much Claire deserves it.

“Hey girls. Where’s Alex?” Dean asks, as he hugs them both. Even Kaia seems happy to see him and now Dean understands why Sam insisted on inviting them all. Dean could use a bit of happiness and love himself.

“Still at the door with Sam.” Claire answers and Dean sees her walking down the stairs with Donna. He can’t help but smile. Sometimes he’d forget about how many friends he actually has.

As a kid Dean only had Sammy and while as a little brother, he’s still his priority, Dean had gotten himself a bigger family. Not blood, but so much more. Dean was so sure he’d never have that and now here he stands.

A while later Charlie and her girlfriend Stevie arrive. Even Bobby greets them both with a huge hug and while they’re the apocalypse versions, Dean had really locked them into his heart.

“Eileen!” Sam says loudly and Dean smiles softly, when he sees how Sam carefully kisses her on the forehead. He had said it before, Eileen is perfect for Sam. She’s just plain amazing and so badass.

Dean steals her for just a second to give her a hug as well. Seems like everyone is here already. 

Dean is glad that they have so many friends, but at the same time, Dean knows they’ve lost so many of their friends. He hopes they’re okay in heaven.

“Hey Dean, did your plan work so far?” Sam asks a while later, after they had all finished eating. Dean shakes his head, a bit grumpy, but everyone seems to avoid his mistletoes.

At least everyone had loved his food and Jody had complimented him twice. Dean had kissed her cheek in thanks without a mistletoe. 

“Seems like you’re all just very shy or cowards.” Dean says and he is louder on purpose so they all can hear him. He can’t believe nobody fell for his tricks.

“You wish.” Eileen says and then she waves Sam towards her. Sam rolls his eyes, but he does walk over to Eileen and kisses her under the biggest mistletoe Dean could find. Dean hastily takes his phone and almost lets it fall to the ground.

“Go get her!” Claire cheers loudly and Sam kisses Eileen. Everybody in the room cheers and Dean can see how embarrassed his little brother is. Because Eileen pressed him against the doorway.

“See, easy.” Eileen says, when she breaks the kiss and everyone starts laughing. Dean is sure he could use the pictures for their wedding sometime. 

Eileen takes a beer and then comes over to Dean. He expects her to want him to delete his pictures or at least see them, but she smiles wickedly.

“So who’s a coward now?” Eileen asks and Charlie next to them coughs laughing. Dean promptly blushes and then shrugs.

“Not like there's anyone I could kiss.” Dean answers, but it doesn’t sound convincing. He’s right, around him are only people who he sees as his kids, siblings or parental figures.

Just then the door opens again and Dean smiles, when he sees Jack.

“Jack you made it!” Sam is the first to walk towards him. Carefully so he doesn’t get under a mistletoe with Jack. The kid looks good, not even the tiniest bit exhausted, but as a god, you probably feel fine all the time.

“Hello!” Jack says and he holds up his hand, just like he always does. Dean had known that Sam had tried to reach him, but Jack hadn’t answered so far.

“Man we missed you!” Claire says and she boxes against her shoulder. Dean snorts, because here Jack is just another piece of their family and not god. He belongs to them. Jack seems relieved.

“Sorry, I hadn’t realized it was Christmas already, being god is kind of a lot of work.” Jack says and he hugs Bobby next. Dean knows Bobby had also taken the kid in. 

“It’s okay, we’re glad you’re here.” Dean says and then he has to hug his kid, too. God (haha) he had really missed him. Dean feels how he finally seems to calm down. He’s happy. He has his family, he’s alive and he doesn’t have to worry about another apocalypse.

He relaxes.

“I even bought you presents. Well at least one.” Jack says and just as Dean wants to open his mouth to say they all agreed on not bringing presents (each family member broke that rule though), he stops.

There on the balcony is… is Cas.

Dean tears up without wanting to. The last time he had seen Castiel was, when he had died and Dean… Dean tries each day very hard not to think about that moment.

“Cas.” Dean whispers and it’s suddenly quiet around him. Castiel’s head snaps to him and they stare at each other. Just like they did all the time. 

“Hello Dean.” Castiel says and there is a small smile on his face. Dean can’t wait anymore, he has to go up there. Just like with the fake call Dean runs up the stairs. He knows it’s not a joke this time.

Castiel seems surprised but also so nervous. Dean doesn’t care, he finally has him back, so he hugs Castiel and hides his face against his neck. He doesn’t dare to look up, because he knows everyone will look so smug.

“Dean.” Castiel says and he sounds so breathless. Dean doesn’t answer, he just presses even more into Castiel and to his own horror, is he tearing up. Castiel finally hugs him back, like he’s something precious.

I love you.

Dean can still hear how he had said those words and he hopes he will hear them so many more times. He wants to say them himself, but maybe it’s not the right moment.

“I’ve missed you, Cas.” Dean whispers, because he could say it to Jody and everyone. He should be able to say it to Castiel as well. Castiel’s breath hitches at that, but he doesn’t let go.

“I’m glad to be here as well, Dean.” Castiel says and he still sounds so uncomfortable, Dean isn’t sure why. He breaks the hug and of course that’s when everyone else wants to say hello to the angel.

Dean takes a few steps back and then walks back down to the beer he had left on the table. He’s a damn coward, Eileen was right.

“You like him, huh?” Charlie says and Dean nods. No need to deny it, Charlie from his world had known it the first second they had met back then.

“He’s like… perfect.” Dean says, even though he knows Castiel has made mistakes, they all had and Dean is good at forgiving and nobody had deserved that more than Castiel.

“Then what is stopping you?” Charlie asks and Dean isn’t even sure what stops him. Maybe it’s because he still feels like he doesn’t deserve Castiel’s friendship, then why should he deserve his love?

“Dunno.” Dean mumbles and just then Bobby waves him over. Dean sighs in relief and just as he walks towards Bobby, does he realize the old man wants to trick him. Castiel is talking to Jody, and he’s under one of the mistletoes.

Dammit seems like his plans are now backfiring. Dean winks at Bobby and then walks over to Sam instead.

If… if Castiel still wanted him, he’d… he’d come to Dean and tell him, right? Or maybe it was Dean’s turn.

“Dean? Do we still have some of your sugar cookies for Jack?” Sam asks and Dean snorts, when he sees that Jack already has a whole plate of cookies, but happily stuffs them in his face. 

Luckily Dean had made like a dozen too many and they’re still in the kitchen.

“Sure give me like a minute.” Dean says and turns around to walk to the kitchen. Just of course under that doorway is Castiel now talking to Eileen. He signs something to her and Dean’s heart melts.

He’s had it bad.

Just then Eileen laughs and nods, before she walks over to the other girls, who are opening another bottle of eggnog. Dean stands there like an idiot. Castiel is still under the damn mistletoe.

“Why don’t you go over to him?” Jack asks and he doesn’t sound like he wants to force Dean to go over there, but is genuinely interested in the question.

“What if… he doesn’t want to have me next to him?” Dean asks and then Castiel looks over to him. He’s still so nervous and Dean’s heart squeezes.

“Dean, just go.” Sam says and Dean nods more to himself. He walks over to Castiel and wipes his hands on his jeans. He hopes not everyone is looking at them right now, but knowing the idiots they are.

Who would’ve thought that Dean’s prank turned on himself. But he wants to kiss Castiel, he really wants it.

“Cas.” Dean says when he is with him. “Dean - I just wanted to talk to you about the day… the day the empty came, I know what I said and…” Castiel starts to babble and Dean had never seen him like that. He shakes his head.

“Cas, I know what you said and it made me the happiest man on earth.” Dean says and he goes for a smile, even though his lips are shaking. Seems like he’s just as nervous.

Castiel tilts his head.

“I feel the same about you, I was just too stunned because I thought we would both die and then you said that and I… Castiel I’m in love with you. You changed me for the better, you are everything I want.” 

Dean smiles again, because now he understands why Castiel had been so happy, when he said it. Dean is relieved and it feels good, he had known a lot had waited years to come out.

“Oh Dean.” Castiel says and Dean isn’t sure what to do now. 

“Kiss, kiss, kiss!” Everybody else yells and Dean is pretty sure there is a blush spreading over his whole body. His face heats up and even Castiel looks so shy.

Dean winks at Castiel and then points up at the mistletoe.

“I guess… this is when we kiss?” Dean asks and he blinks up at Castiel through his eyelashes, even though he is a tiny bit taller than the angel.

Castiel doesn’t answer but he holds out his hands. Dean takes a step closer and takes his hands. They touched so many times before, but this time it feels so different. Dean had always loved Castiel’s hands but now he can finally interlace his own fingers with Castiel’s. 

“You sure?” Castiel asks and Dean nods before he has even finished the question.

“Never been this sure.” Dean says and he winks badly. Castiel smiles and then he is closing his eyes, face coming closer. Dean closes his eyes himself and waits for Castiel.

And then, fuck, then Castiel is kissing him like he means it and Dean melts in his arms. Castiel’s hands find Dean’s cheeks and he kisses him softly, but still with so much heat behind it, that Dean gasps quietly.

Dean doesn’t even hear the other around them clapping. He is just focused on the kiss. Castiel suddenly smiles against his lips and Dean does too. They break the kiss like that, both widely grinning.

“Fucking finally!” Bobby says and Dean laughs, because Bobby isn’t even with them for a long time and even he had seen it. Of course.

“I love you.” Castiel says again and this time Dean is ready and they’re safe, so he finally tells Castiel what he already wanted back then when the Empty came.

“I love you too.”

Castiel’s smile is breathtaking and Dean has to kiss him for a second agan. This time he hears someone’s phone taking a picture, but he doesn’t care.

“I love you so much.” Dean says again. 

*

Weeks later Dean’s life had changed a lot. He doesn’t have to wake up alone anymore. Now he can actually cuddle Castiel, who is even more grumpy than him in the morning and the first thing Dean always does, is to look at his nightstand.

There’s a picture of his and Castiel’s kiss from their christmas party.

Dean strokes over it. He’s the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

Castiel snores loudly and Dean chuckles quietly.

“I love you.” He whispers and Castiel smiles in his sleep.

#destiel secret santa #destielsecretsanta2020 #destiel fanfic #destiel #destiel writing #deancas #destiel fic

[hoboal87]

Elastic Heart Chapter Fifteen (Fin)

Title: Elastic Heart - Stay

Characters: Y/N Y/L/N, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Cordelia Y/L/N, OFC’s

Pairing(s): Sam x Reader, Reader x OMC

Summary: In the aftermath of the final Trial, Dean reaches out to Y/N. Dean is willing to do whatever it takes to save Sam, but is he going to push Y/N too far?

Word Count: 13.4k(!)

Warnings: Angst, Bits of Fluff, Character Injury, Major Character Death, Time Jump, Implied Smut.

A/N: Series is mostly canon compliant, taking place during season 8/9. For the purposes of this fic Sam was born in '84 instead of '83.

A/N 2: Here it is, the final chapter! I have to thank my wonderful, awesome beta @deanwinchesterswitch! Kym, you are the best, thank you so much for making this fic the best possible version of itself. I will definitely miss our RIDICULOUSLY long notes and comments. I literally cannot say thank you enough for putting up with my crazy brain-dumps and last minute changes. 

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Read Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen: Stay

Y/N POV

I take a deep breath as I pull out my phone and set the timer, setting the test next to two others. Stupid, I chastise myself, putting yourself in this position again. I lean against the counter before sliding down onto the floor, still being mindful of my arm. I stare blankly at the wall and let my mind wander. We were careless, so caught up in the moment, nothing else seemed to matter at the time. What were the odds of this happening again? The thought hadn’t even entered my brain until after Crowley’s attack. It’s been over a week, and I can still hear his words as clear as the day he said them. Sam didn’t come back to you, choosing girl after girl. Would you like to know the real cause of your parent’s accident? You are the ultimate bargaining chips. He must’ve known; it would explain his taunts about having Cordy call him ‘father.’ The buzzing of my phone pulls me out of my thoughts, I expect to see the timer, but it’s Dean’s name popping up on the caller ID. I reject the call without a second thought; he and Sam are the last people I want to talk to right now.

I haven’t even had the chance to put my phone back down before it starts vibrating again. A glance tells me it’s Dean calling again. “It’s 7 am, Dean,” I grumble, staring down at my phone. Whatever is causing him to reach out after nearly three months of complete silence must be important, at least to him. I hesitate briefly before rejecting the call.

I check the timer, two minutes. Crowley’s voice is in my head, and I’m back to that night again. Your precious Y/N is running out of time, Sam. As soon as we moved in, I was going to reach out to Sam, tell him I was ready for him to be a part of mine and Cordy’s lives. We still had our issues to work through, but Cordy had expressed more than once that she was ready to know him, and at the time, I started to forgive him. Sam repeatedly called after Crowley had left me, but Crowley’s words were all too fresh in my mind.

I peer into my room to see Cordy sleeping soundly in my bed. She’s afraid to leave me at night, something that I can’t blame her for. As I watch her sleep, my mind drifts back to the morning after Crowley’s attack.

I was trying to keep myself calm as I read through Sam’s multiple apology-ridden messages. I didn’t care that he was sorry; it couldn’t make up for the fact he and Dean had left us so utterly vulnerable to their enemies. I watched from the living room window as Cordy walked back over; I didn’t know how to explain my injury to her and how much of the truth I could tell her without further traumatizing her. I couldn’t lie my way out of it, but demons were not something I knew how to explain to a ten-year-old. Tears welled in Cordy’s eyes the minute she caught sight of me; she could see through my forced smile, she ran to me and wrapped her arms tight around my waist.

“Hey.” I tried to soothe her, using my good arm to rub a hand down her back. “It’s okay, I’m okay,” I half lied. “Couple of months, and I’ll be good as new.”

Cordy’s grip briefly loosened when I moved us onto the couch, I couldn’t pick her up like I wanted to, but I wasn’t going to stop her from crawling into my lap and burying her head into my shoulder. I let her weep against me; through her sobs, I heard a muffled ‘mom.’

It had been weeks since she’d called out for mom or dad when she was scared. By the time we had moved, her nightmares about the accident had become fewer and farther in between. Cordy had taken to climbing into my bed and letting me lull her back to sleep whenever one had woken her up.

“I know,” I whispered, trying to keep my tears at bay. “I miss them too.”

Cordy pulled away, her face blotchy, eyes blood-shot, and shook her head. “You’re my mom, Y/N,” she mumbled. “I do-don’t wanna lo-lose you too.” Cordy splutters through her tears. “You-you’re all I– I have le-left.”

I choked back a sob; she’s right; we only have each other. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t count on Sam to be there if something ever did happen to me. Cordy already lost one set of parents; I didn’t want to think about her losing Sam or me.

The vibration of my phone causes me to jump as it brings me back to the present. I sigh as I look down at the phone, rejecting the call. “Take the hint, Dean,” I mutter to myself. I check the timer, thirty seconds. I reach for the first test and vaguely remember an x-ray technician asking me if there was any possibility of me being pregnant. At the time, I didn’t even think about it; my night with Sam was the furthest thing on my mind.

I mindlessly chew away at my fingernails as the phone vibrates again, and I silently plead for it to stop. Relief floods through me when it does; maybe it’s finally gotten through to Dean that I don’t want to speak to him. The timer chirps and I grab the test off the counter and cover the results box with my hands. I close my eyes for a brief moment, praying that somehow I’m wrong. I take a shuddering breath as I slowly open my eyes, letting them land on the word ‘pregnant.’

Dean’s name briefly fills the screen again before I reject the call, setting my phone down on the tile. Surely he’ll get the message that I am intentionally not answering. I pull the second test off of the counter, pregnant. I don’t bother with the third. Even if somehow it was negative, the two positive pregnancy tests can’t both be wrong. I choke back a sob as I run through all of my options in my head. I can’t believe this is happening again. What am I going to tell Cordy? What about Sam? We weren’t in a good place when he left—that stupid fight.

The loud buzzing doesn’t just annoy me this time; it makes me want to pick up my phone and throw it against the wall. I grab my phone off the floor, and for a brief moment, I think of smashing into hundreds of pieces. I shake the thought out of my head before contemplating whether I should answer the call, my thumb hovering between the red and green circles.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you, Dean,” I say before ending the call, not giving him the chance to respond. I look back down at the test again, praying, willing it to change. I know it won’t, it was the first time I had sex in months, and of course, it’s with Sam fucking Winchester who had to go and get me pregnant. “Perfect vessel for Winchester children,” I mumble and let out a dry laugh. I wonder if the angels knew about this one, I chuckle to try to keep myself from crying, but the tears fall anyway, and my laughter quickly devolves into sobbing. Pregnant. Again. My phone chirps, 6 missed calls - Dean Winchester.

“Fuck,” I mutter as his name pops up again. I push the bathroom door closed, not wanting to wake Cordy. I clear my throat and wipe the tears away, taking a long and calming breath before accepting the call. “What do you want, Dean?”

“Y/N, don’t hang up, please, just–” Dean sighs, “I know you’re pissed, and you have every right, but–”

“Pissed is the understatement of the year.”

“Y/N–”

“The fucking King of Hell showed up on my doorstep. Came into my home and threatened the lives of both my daughter and me.” I hiss while trying to keep my voice down. “You know, I actually believed Sam when he said that Cas would show up if I prayed to him. Do you wanna know how many times I prayed for him to help? He did nothing, showing up hours later, giving some bullshit excuse about us not being in ‘real’ danger.”

“I–”

“What’s your excuse, Dean? Are you calling to apologize? You think that’ll make it all better? I don’t want your apology.” I can hear him huffing in anger on the other end. “Have a nice life, Dean.”

“Wait just a goddamn minute, Y/N,” he snaps before letting out a loud sigh and softening his voice. “I– I’m sorry. You have to believe that we didn’t know. If we even thought there was a chance of Crowley... we wouldn’t have let it happen. Sammy and I would’ve shown you how to protect yourself. Y/N, Sam has more guilt about Crowley than you’ll ever know. We didn’t think he knew about you or Cordy.”

“He said he’d been watching me for weeks,” I say, memories of that night playing in my head. “Weeks, Dean.”

“You would have been safe if you had stayed in Weldon,” Dean grumbles.

“The phone works both ways, Dean,” I murmur, trying to lessen my own guilt about leaving. “If you or Sam had bothered to keep in touch, you’d have known that we were planning to move.”

“Bullshit, Y/N,” Dean growls. “You stopped responding to Sam’s messages the day we left Weldon. You didn’t want to accept his apology, and at the time, as much as it broke him, he understood. You had no intention of telling us that you were moving. You can spout out crap about us not reaching out to you, Y/N, but you said it yourself, the phone works both ways.”

I let Dean’s words sink in. I’d threatened Sam with taking Cordy far away from him, but that wasn’t what the move was about; Cordy and I needed a change. I was able to leave so much of my baggage behind. I didn’t have to lie anymore; I didn’t have to carry the shame that my parents had made me feel for years.

“You asked for space, for time, and we were– are trying to respect that. You asked us to leave Weldon, and we did. I practically had to drag Sam outta there. He didn’t wanna leave you again, but I got his ass in the car, and we left. And all I heard from Weldon to Lebanon was how he wanted to tell you how sorry he was and that he was afraid that you would feel abandoned by him. It killed him to leave you and Cordy; you two are the only family we have left, and then you moved away without a single word. If you’d told us that you were planning on leaving Weldon, we would’ve found a way to protect you and Cordy. If you weren’t ready to be around Sam, we could’ve sent another hunter to protect you and Cordy.”

“We shouldn’t need protection, Dean. For ten years, we didn’t need protection. But the moment Sam steps back into my life, suddenly Cordy and I are targets for your enemies,” I let my eyes fall back on to the test in my hands. “I have to protect my family, Dean, and if that means Sam can’t be a part of our lives, then so be it. I refuse to live in constant fear that something like that could happen again. I’m not going to be some damsel in distress. I told Cas; Cordy and I are not bargaining chips.”

“The Crowley who attacked you doesn't exist anymore, Y/N. He's no longer the King of Hell; he's nothing more than a regular human. Crowley can't hurt you or Cordy ever again.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that’s true, Dean.”

“It is, Y/N.” Dean sighs, “Cas told us he warded your house. Wherever you are, you and Cordy are safe. I give you my word.”

“Your word isn’t the one I want, Dean. You’re not the reason Crowley came after us; Sam is. All of it was about him and me.”

“You don’t think that I care–?”

“I know you do, Dean,” I sigh, “but you’re on the phone with me instead of Sam. You’re the one playing peace-keeper. Sam should be the one telling me all of these things, not you. If Sam wants me to forgive him and think about letting him back into mine and Cordy’s life, then I need to hear it from him.”

Dean is silent on the other line, and through the static of the phone, I can hear a muffled voice coming through a speaker. A deep breath cuts through the silence before he speaks again.

“Sam’s– Sammy’s hurt, Y/N,” Dean’s voice hitches as if he’s trying to keep himself calm. “It’s– it’s bad.” Suddenly, all the background noises I’ve been hearing make sense. “He was doing okay for a couple of days, but then he took a turn for the worse. Sam’s…” Dean trails off briefly, and I fear that I already know what his next words will be. “You should be here, Y/N, you and Cordy. Sam needs his girls by his side.”

I smile briefly at Dean’s words before my heart falls into my stomach. There’s something he isn’t telling me, and every breath I try to take becomes more difficult. I grip the test tighter in my hands, and I try to let go of all of my anger that had been residing in me since the night we fought. I regret the last words spoken between us, fueled by rage and fear; we don’t need you; I should’ve taken the words back.

“Where are you?”

“Linwood Memorial Hospital in Randolf, New York.” Dean doesn’t hesitate.

“New York? You’re not in Kansas? I thought–”

“Randolf, New York,” Dean reiterates, “Linwood Memorial Hospital.”

I tell Dean that I will have to get a flight to him, and he insists on giving me a scammed credit card to pay for it. A part of me almost doesn’t want to take it, but after seeing how much such a last-minute flight would cost, I accept it.

I call the school as soon as I hang up with Dean, explaining that Cordy will be out for at least the rest of the week. The receptionist seems to understand, reminding me to reach out to her teachers for lessons and homework.

I step into my closet, grabbing two bags, and begin packing my belongings as quietly as I can. I set my bag down at the top of the stairs before repeating the process in Cordy’s room. I place Cordy’s bag next to my own before glancing back into my room. Cordy’s still sleeping, arms tightly gripping her teddy bear. I don't want to wake her, not yet, so I gently close my bedroom door before making my way downstairs. When I open the front door, there’s nothing but the sounds of nature greeting me. A few of the houses are bathed in an orange light where the sun is just barely peeking over rooftops. I step out onto the dewy grass, setting the bags down. I relish in the quiet of the neighborhood for a moment and let myself get lost in thought.

“Y/N,” a low voice says as their hand lands on my arm.

“Jesus!” I yelp, balling my fist and ready to throw a punch. I turn quickly to see my neighbor, Jason, standing behind me.

“Whoa! Sorry,” Jason puts his hands up in surrender, and I unclench my fist. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Someone oughta put a bell on you,” I laugh slightly. “It’s not polite to sneak up on people. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

“I called your name a couple of times,” he shrugs. “I guess you were off somewhere else?”

“Yeah, something like that.” I nod.

“Here, let me help you,” Jason picks up the two bags. “Looks like you’re makin’ a break for it.”

“I guess you could say that,” I shrug and walk towards my car, Jason matching my steps. “Thanks.”

“Don’t tell me we’ve scared you outta the neighborhood already?” Jason chuckles. “Is it Old Lady Nelson?” I try to speak, but he playfully cuts me off. “She’s a witch, you know.”

“Is she?” I raise an eyebrow and pop the trunk. “What kind of witch? Do I need to keep a bucket of water on hand?”

“No, more like the fortune-telling kind,” he grins, slowing his steps, before stopping at the trunk. “She paid me a visit the other day and said I would meet someone.”

“Oh?” I ask as he sets the two bags down, and he nods his head. Suddenly, I’m painfully aware that he’s flirting and that I may be unintentionally encouraging it.

“She said that she would have a-” Jason’s blue eyes dart around me, “a robin’s nest in her yard. Oh!” He dramatically yells as I close the trunk. ”Will you look at that?” He points to the robin’s nest and winks. I shake my head; we both know it was there long before I moved in. “So whaddya say, Y/N? Can I take you out for dinner sometime?”

“Cut right to the chase, don’t you?” I tease him. “Listen, Jason, I think you’re really nice, but–”

“But,” Jason sighs and frowns slightly, “you’re not interested?”

“I’m– I–” I don’t know how to describe my relationship with Sam. He isn’t my boyfriend, but he’s more than just the father of my daughter. “I’m with someone, Cordy’s dad. We’re going to be visiting him for the next couple of days.”

“Shit, Y/N, I’m sorry,” Jason runs his hands through his short hair and gives me an embarrassed smile. “Cynthia told me you were single and has been pushing for me to ask you out. If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have–”

“We have a complicated relationship,” I laugh weakly. “‘Sides you deserve someone who doesn’t have a mountain of baggage.”

“Well, if Mr. Complicated doesn’t wise up, he better be prepared to put up a fight for you,” he teases, and a slight tinge of pink fills his cheeks. “I don’t give up easily, and baggage doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re sweet,” I reach for his arm and gently squeeze it, “but you hardly know me. For all you know, I could be some stage five clinger psychopath or– or an assassin.”

“Then we’ll be two peas in a pod,” Jason smirks, stepping closer to me and brushing a stray hair away from my face. For a moment, I lean into his touch, but I stop myself.

“I have to go,” I exclaim and run back into the house, slamming the door behind me.

I scold myself as I pace my living room. Sam’s in some hospital, and you’re outside flirting with the neighbor? The clock on the wall catches my attention, 8 am, we have to leave soon.

“Y/N?” Cordy’s scratchy voice pulls me out of my thoughts; she looks to be on the verge of tears. “I woke up, and you weren’t there.”

“Oh, kid, I’m sorry.” I close the gap between us and let her settle against me. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ve had a busy morning. You and me, we’re going on a trip.”

“Really?” Cordy’s face lights up, “what kind of a trip?”

“We’re gonna visit Sam,” Cordy’s smile grows; this is something she’s wanted for the last month. “He’s sick,” I explain, and Cordy’s smile fades.

“Is he gonna be okay?”

“I hope so, kid. But I don’t know, that’s why we’re gonna go see him.”

*********************************************

When we arrive in Randolf, it’s almost 9 pm. Cordy and I are exhausted, unused to this kind of travel. It makes me wonder how Sam and Dean live in the Impala for hours and sometimes days on end. The hospital’s visiting hours will be over by now, so I send a message to Dean, letting him know that we are staying at a hotel for the night. He tells me that he has already added us to Sam's visitor list and that he would be under the name Dougherty. I crawl into the large bed, Cordy’s already sleeping soundly, and let my mind wander.

Sam is going to make it out of this, isn’t he? Will he be happy when I tell him about the baby? Will he come back to Lawrence with us when all of this is over? Will he walk away from Dean for the three of us? Will Dean let him?

It’s still early when a turning in my stomach makes me bolt towards the bathroom, emptying my stomach into the porcelain bowl.

“Y/N?” Cordy calls from outside the bathroom, and before I can muster out an answer, I feel the bile rising in my throat again. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Go back to bed, Cordy,” I say more harshly than I mean to. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

When I open the bathroom door, Cordy is still standing there, tears filling her eyes. “Are you mad at me?” She asks as a tear slips out.

“Oh, kid, I’m sorry I yelled at you,” I crouch down and meet her eyes. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you sick too?” Cordy sniffles.

“No,” I shake my head. “I’m– I’m gonna have a baby.”

Guilt overwhelms me as I pull into the hospital’s parking lot; I need Sam to know that I still love him, that all the words exchanged weren’t how I truly felt. Ten years of thinking he had run away, and the anger that exploded from us both drove my words. I know, deep down, that Sam wouldn’t have left if he’d known the truth. We were scared kids and didn’t know how not to believe the words of our parents. I know that if either one of us could go back, we would.

Even though Cas changed her memories, Cordy’s body tenses as we step into the hospital. She grips my hand tightly as we walk to the main desk and check-in. I ask for Sam Dougherty’s room, pulling out my ID and handing it to the receptionist. She smiles warmly as she hands over the visitor passes she printed for us.

“I need to ask you something, Cordy,” I say as I kneel to place the badge on the front of her shirt. “When we get up to Sam’s room, do you want to see him?” She fidgets at the mention of being in a hospital room. “You don’t have to; it’s your decision.”

“I don’t know,” she answers sheepishly. “If you want me to-”

“No, kid. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to. It’s okay if you don’t,” I squeeze her arm. “I know we’ve talked about you getting to know Sam as your dad, but you’ve only met him a couple of times. If you’re not ready to see him, I’m not going to force you.”

“Is he gonna look scary?” She murmurs, looking down at the floor.

I don’t know how to answer the question. Dean said he was hurt badly. If Sam wasn’t going to get better from this, I don’t know if I want her one of her only memories of him to be attached to machines, bruised, and broken. If she’s only going to have one real memory of Sam, let it be of the day that he visited her after the accident.

“How ‘bout,” I offer, “I go and see him first, by myself. And if I think he looks too scary, I’ll tell you.”

“Sammy isn’t gonna be mad?” Cordy looks up to meet my eyes.

“No, of course not,” I say firmly, “he wouldn’t want you to be afraid.” She nods and grabs my hand as we head up to Sam’s room.

I leave Cordy just outside Sam’s room. She looks around for a moment before I hand over my tablet and headphones, letting her drown out the noises of the hospital. I hesitate to leave her, and when a nurse volunteers to sit with her, I graciously accept. I place a kiss on her forehead, whispering one four three in her ear before heading into Sam’s room. I peer into the open door of the room. Sam’s long frame fills the bed. He looks emaciated; his face bruised, eyes and cheeks sunken in, and skin stretched taut over his bones.

Dean’s at his side, hunched over; I can see his mouth moving but can’t make out anything he’s saying. I wipe the forming tears away, knocking softly on the door. Dean jumps slightly at the sound, and a look of relief washes over his face when he sees me.

“Y/N,” Dean frowns when he catches sight of me, his eyes immediately fall on my broken arm. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers as he wraps his arms around me. “Cas said he tried to heal–”

“What happened, Dean?” I pull away from him, focusing my attention on Sam. “How did he get this bad?”

“Did Cas tell you what we were trying to do?”

“Said something about closing Hell Gates,” I can’t take my eyes off of Sam’s body. Dean leads me to a chair, letting me sit down before moving to the opposite side of the bed. He grabs a second chair, pulling it around so that he’s sitting next to me.

“Yeah. What we didn’t know when Sam started them is that to complete the Trials, Sam would have to die.” Dean looks back over to Sam. “I couldn’t let that happen. I tried to convince him to stop, Y/N, but he wouldn’t listen. He couldn’t stop,” Dean seems to be reassuring himself just as much as me. “The only reason he’s probably still alive right now is that he collapsed before he could finish it.”

“Where’s Cas? Can’t he do something?” I ask, hopefully. “He can heal Sam, can’t he?”

“Sam’s been too damaged for months for Cas to do anything,” Dean sighs. “Tried to help a while back, and even then, he couldn’t do anything. I haven’t let that stop me, Y/N,” Dean offers a sad smile. “I’ve tried praying, but Cas won’t answer.”

“What about another angel?” I’m desperate, taking Sam’s lifeless hand in my own. “Cas can’t be the only one who can help.”

“The thing about angels, Y/N, is most of ‘em are dicks.” Dean lets out a pained laugh. “And they’re not exactly fans of Sam and me. Most won’t help even if they can.”

“You have to do something, Dean,” I plead. “You can’t let him die. You said you’d watch out for him. He can’t die, not now; I need him. Me and Cordy, we need him.”

“Y/N.”

“You’re friends with a freaking angel, you know the King of Hell, but you can’t do anything to save Sam? You’re not trying hard enough, Dean.” I direct all of the guilt I’m feeling at Dean; a part of me knows it’s not fair to him, but I can’t help it. “All this will be for nothing if he’s gone. You tried to stop him and now look at him,” I direct my attention back to Sam.

Dean silently takes my verbal lashing, his emerald eyes filling with tears.

“Screw you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Sam is my brother, and we’ve been through more shit together than you will ever know.” I can hear the pain in Dean’s voice, but he remains calm and quiet, and I notice him discreetly wiping a tear away. “I’ve watched him die too many times already, and I wasn’t gonna let it happen again. I couldn’t let another Winchester grow up without a parent; me and Sam, we practically raised ourselves. Cordy deserves to have both of her parents raising her.”

“Dean–”

“You don’t know how messed up Sam got, Y/N!” Dean’s face reddens, and his voice starts to rise. “He was about to die, and he didn’t even care! If you’d heard what he said in that church– He thinks that you and Cordy are better off without him; that you can just replace him. He’s not replaceable, Y/N. I was trying to talk him off a ledge, and you wanna know the worst part? I’m the reason he got so messed up. I was the one that was supposed to be doing the Trials, not Sam. I could’ve finished them, and he could’ve finally gotten out. I had to save my brother; I will always do whatever it takes to save him. You can put the blame on me for how he is now, but don’t act like you wouldn’t have at least tried to stop him if you were there.”

“Dean,” I can barely speak, “I’m sorry. I just–”

“D’you know what he’s wanted since we were kids?” Dean doesn’t wait for me to respond and focuses back on Sam. “A normal life. He never wanted to be a hunter, follow in dad’s footsteps; he wanted to be his own person. I’m the one who dragged his ass away from Stanford, I’m the reason he wasn’t there when Jessica was murdered, and I know that deep down, a part of him will never be able to forgive me for it. Sam had his chance at normal, but he gave it up for me. If I hadn’t pulled him into that hunt, he probably wouldn’t have come back. He’d be living some apple-pie life with you or Jessica; married, a couple of kids running around, a dog, house with a white picket fence.”

“I don’t have a white picket fence,” I say softly, garnering a small chuckle from Dean. “But, I want all that with him. I want him around, to be a father to Cordy and- and...” I stop myself from saying any more, reluctant to tell him about this baby as well. If I tell him and Sam doesn’t make it through this, I can’t have Dean as a looming presence in Cordy and this baby’s life, reminding all of us of something we can never have. “Before Crowley, I was ready to find a way to make it work with Sam. After Crowley left, I was so scared, Dean, so angry. I still am, but I want us to move past all that. Cordy’s ready to know her dad.”

“Cordy knows?” Dean asks, his eyes going wide at my confession, “I thought you were– You said you didn’t want to tell her, that you wanted to wait until she was ready?” Dean’s brow furrows, and I can hear the anger in his voice. I had insisted to both brothers that Cordy wasn’t ready to know the truth, but now, only a few months later, she was suddenly ready?

“I was,” I focus my attention back on Sam, and I can feel the daggers Dean is staring into me. “That morning, after you left? That box of photos was still out,” I explain. I could tell he thought that I’d lied to him that night. “I’d meant to put them away, but after everything that happened, I was exhausted and pretty much passed out on the couch. When I woke up, Cordy was going through it and started asking questions. She was putting everything together before I could even come up with an excuse. The kid’s too smart for her own good,” I chuckle, and Dean relaxes slightly. “It was rough; Cordy was angry and confused, but she’s adjusting, we both are. She’s been getting used to the idea, and for the last month, she’s been asking me about getting to know Sam.”

“I’ll find a way to get him back to the both of you,” Dean promises, reaching out to give my hand a firm squeeze. “I promise, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Dean and I sit in silence for a few minutes before a doctor joins us. He explains the extent of Sam’s injuries: massive internal burns, oxygen deprivation, the coma is Sam’s last resort of self-preservation.

“He’s dying,” Dean mutters.

“If he continues on this trajectory, I’m afraid so. The machines may be able to keep him alive, but with injuries such as these–”

“There isn’t anything you can do?” I question the doctor.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s in God’s hands now,” the doctor smiles at me sympathetically.

“God’s hands?” Dean huffs, and his face hardens. “You’re a medical professional, and you’re telling us that my brother’s life is in God’s hands? What, is that supposed to be some sort of– of comfort?”

“Dean,” I sigh, “he’s just saying–”

“No, Y/N,” Dean snaps at me. He immediately gives me an apologetic smile before standing up to meet the doctor at the edge of the bed. “God has nothing to do with this equation. If I wanted to leave it up to God, I wouldn’t have brought him here in the first place. Do your job, save my brother.”

The doctor doesn’t flinch at Dean’s verbal assault, taking it as gracefully as one can. He apologizes again before leaving us alone. Dean refuses to sit back down, pacing around the room and muttering under his breath. I focus back on Sam, squeezing his hand tighter, praying for some kind of response to show that he’s still there, fighting his way back to Cordy and me.

“You have to fight, Sam,” I lean in and whisper. “I didn’t mean what I said that night; I was angry and scared. We do need you. You can’t leave Cordy and me, not like this.”

The room is silent, save for the heart monitor beeping steadily and my sniffling. Dean has stopped pacing, and when I look up, he’s staring at Sam and me, waiting as much as I am for some kind of sign that Sam isn’t giving up. I wipe my tears away and take a long, calming breath before speaking.

“Cordy’s outside,” I say as I leave my seat. “I’m– I’m gonna talk to her, see if she wants to see Sam.”

Dean nods slightly, and as I walk by him, he pulls me into a hug, “I’ll find a way to fix this, Y/N,” he reassures me. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get him better again.”

When I get back to Cordy, she is intensely focused on the tablet in her hands. I take another long inhale, hoping that I can hide the evidence of my tears. I playfully tug at her headphones, pulling her attention away from the tablet, and I see she’s watching a video from a channel called Ghostfacers.

“Learn anything interesting?” I ask as I take the seat next to her.

“Nah,” she shrugs and turns off the tablet, “those guys are weirdos.”

I laugh as she puts the tablet back into my bag. I try to figure out the best way to breach the subject of Sam to Cordy.

“How’s Sammy?” Cordy asks as if she can read my mind, and I give her a tight-lipped smile.

“He’s– He’s not doing okay.” I try to think of a way to explain his condition to her, something that will make sense. “You know how sometimes when you’re sick, you just want to sleep?” Cordy nods. “Well, right now, Sam is really sick, so he’s gonna stay asleep until he’s better.”

“How long is Sammy gonna sleep?” Cordy questions innocently. “Are we gonna stay until he wakes up?”

“I– I don’t know, kid,” I tell her honestly. “It could be days, weeks, or,” I struggle with the next words, “Sam may never wake up.”

Cordy seems to understand what I’m saying, and I’m thankful that I don’t have to say the words, ‘Sam’s dying.’ I don’t push her to respond, letting her think over whatever she may want to say next. I keep my own conflicted feelings at bay; half wants to take her back to Lawrence and never talk about this ever again; the other half wants her to go in and see him so that at least she can get a proper goodbye.

“Can I see him?” Cordy asks after a few moments of silence. “Would that be okay?”

“If that’s what you want, kid,” I grab her hand in mine and gently squeeze it before walking us back towards Sam’s room.

Dean’s still pacing the floor when I walk in; Cordy stays behind me, gripping my hand tightly. I try to move forward, but she pulls back against me, stopping at the doorway. Dean peers around me before closing the gap between us and crouches down to meet Cordy at her eye-level.

“Hey, Princess, do you remember me?” Dean asks sweetly.

Cordy smiles and nods, “Y/N says you’re my uncle.”

“That’s right,” Dean’s eyes shine with pride. “I’m Sammy’s big brother. Do you know what big brothers do?” he asks, and Cordy shakes her head. “We protect our little brothers. We don’t let anything happen to them.”

“Can I talk to him?” She looks between Dean and me. “Is that okay?”

“Sure, kid,” I smile weakly.

Cordy lets go of my hand and makes her way to the empty chair by Sam’s side. Dean gives my arm a reassuring squeeze as I walk by, and I sit in the chair that he previously occupied. Cordy doesn’t say anything at first, seemingly studying Sam silently, she wasn’t one to normally shy away from a conversation, but this is a new experience for her.

“Why don’t you tell Sam about school?” I suggest, knowing that once she starts talking, it’ll be hard to get her to stop.

Cordy nods before explaining in unbelievable detail about her teachers and classmates. She tells him all about our new house and how she decorated her room because she’s not a little kid anymore, which causes a small laugh from both Dean and me. She speaks non-stop for what seems like hours, telling Sam everything he would ever need to know to become integrated into our lives.

“Definitely Sam’s kid,” Dean jokes from the edge of the bed, listening just as intently as Sam would. Cordy doesn’t pay any attention and goes right back to chattering.

After a few minutes, Dean gets up and gestures for me to join him outside the room. He tells me he has a plan, that it could be our only hope to save Sam, and gently orders me not to let anyone else into the room until he gets back. I want to pry for more details, but it must be a long-shot or something dangerous if Dean’s not giving them.

When I walk back into the room, Cordy is telling Sam how she hopes that he will be awake for her birthday, and my heart breaks. Unless Dean can pull off some miracle, Sam won’t recover from this; his body is far too damaged.

When Dean returns a half-hour later, a bruise is blossoming on his cheek as if he’s been in a fight, and a large man follows closely behind him. Something about him is unsettling, and Cordy stops speaking when she sees him, leaving her seat to move into my lap.

“Y/N, I think you should take Cordy outside,” Dean suggests, and the man eyes the two of us.

For a moment, I want to protest, but Dean hardens his face, and it seems that he’s as wary of this stranger as I am.

“Okay,” I nod, getting out of the chair and grabbing Cordy by the hand. She tugs against me and takes a few steps towards the head of the bed. She leans over so much that only her toes are touching the ground and does her best to hug Sam and places a kiss on his cheek. If I had any less control over myself, I’d be a sobbing mess at the sight—damn hormones.

I give Cordy a small smile when she turns around and returns her hand to mine. I settle her back into the same seat before returning to Sam’s room.

“Dean? What’s going on? Who is this?”

“My name is Ezekiel,” the man faces me, “I am not here to harm you or your daughter, Y/N.”

“How do you–”

“Angel,” Dean answers before I can finish asking my question. “He’s here to help, right?” Ezekiel nods. “Even cut-off from Heaven, you can still heal him, can’t you?”

“Your brother is very weak.”

“No, no,” Dean growls, “I saved your life, and you said you could help. That was our deal: I fight, you save.”

“Please,” I say, stepping closer to Ezekiel. “You can’t do anything?”

“There are no good ways, I’m afraid.”

“Then what are some of the bad ones?” Dean says. “He’s dying, let’s hear ‘em, good or bad.”

Ezekiel explains that he can help from the inside. I watch as Dean contemplates what Ezekiel says, looking to me for some kind of relief. I shake my head, and I tell him I don’t understand.

“Possession,” Dean explains.

“It is your decision, Y/N, and yours, Dean,” Ezekiel sits down.

“No, it’s not,” Dean murmurs. “It’s Sam’s. He’d never say yes to being some angel’s meatsuit.”

“I understand, but without my help, your brother will die.”

Dean turns his attention to Sam and sighs, “do it.”

“Dean,” I pull him towards me. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“He can fix Sam, Y/N!” Dean argues. “This is the only solution I can think of that doesn’t involve something worse.”

“Worse than you letting some angel possess him?” I question in disbelief. “I know you want to help him, Dean. But this isn’t the way, tell me you don’t know that.”

“What, you want to leave it in God's hands? Just wait and see if maybe he comes out of this? Those Trials– The person completing them is meant to die; it’s supposed to be the ultimate sacrifice. I say Sam’s sacrificed enough in his life. He deserves to live, Y/N.”

“I don’t want him gone either, Dean, but this should be his choice, not yours or mine. You know him better than anyone. Do you think this is how he’d want you to save him? He wouldn’t want this, Dean. I don’t want this.”

“You told me to fix him, that you want to keep him in your life, Y/N. That’s what I’m doing.”

“I know, but–” I turn my gaze to Ezekiel and then back to Sam. “This isn’t right, Dean. You know it isn’t.”

Dean shrugs me off of him and steps closer to Ezekiel, and they begin talking in hushed tones. My eyes land on Sam, and for a moment, I consider what Dean is saying, thinking that it may be the only way to keep Sam in my and Cordy’s lives. I watch Ezekiel; his voice is too low for me to make out any exact words. There’s something he’s not telling us. Ezekiel repeats his offer.

“He’d never say yes to you,” Dean murmurs.

“But he would say yes to you or Y/N,” Ezekiel offers, his eyes land between us. "If you want me to help Sam, we must act quickly." Despite his words, there is no urgency in Ezekiel's voice, no emotion. "Your brother doesn't have much time."

"No," I murmur, shaking my head when Dean faces me. "You're not going to use me to manipulate Sam. There's gotta be another way, Dean."

“There's not, Y/N," Dean sighs. "You heard the doctor; there's nothing more they can do."

"That's not what he said, Dean," I argue, even though from what we were told, there was little chance of Sam recovering. I have to hope that somehow he can get better. "People wake up from comas every day. There are new therapies–"

"They will not work, Y/N," Ezekiel states matter-of-factly. "The damage done to Sam's body cannot be healed by mere mortals. Sam will die unless you allow me to help."

"If I’m going to consider this, you show me, prove to me how bad he is," Dean's desperate; we both are. Ezekiel moves, placing one hand on Sam and the other on Dean, and both men go still for a few moments. I stand there, unable to do anything but watch as the heart monitor beeps become further apart.

"What're you doing, Sam?" Dean says barely above a whisper. He turns to face me again, and I can see the fear and panic playing on his face. He turns back to Ezekiel. "Go in as me to convince him."

"Dean!"

“Tell him I gotta plan, that he has to trust me," Dean ignores me and instructs Ezekiel. "And– and that he has a kid that needs him."

I can’t take it anymore, and I don’t want to be anymore complicit in Dean letting Ezekiel possess Sam than I already am. Dean and Ezekiel are too caught up in their conversation to notice me walking towards Sam. If Dean wants Ezekiel to save Sam, he's not going to use us to do it.

I lean forward and whisper in his ear, “I’m sorry.” I squeeze Sam’s lifeless hand and place a kiss on his forehead. "One four three."

I don’t say anything else to Dean or Ezekiel and reluctantly leave the room. I try to keep myself calm when I get back to Cordy, giving her a pained smile that I hope she doesn't see through. She doesn’t question me when I take her hand in mine and begin walking us towards the elevators. I know I’ll have to explain why we’re leaving at some point, but I can’t do it now, not when I can hardly wrap my brain around it.

We’re halfway down the hall when I hear Dean calling after me, I do my best to ignore it, but it becomes more difficult when Cordy points it out as if somehow I don’t hear him. Dean's voice continues to follow, and I can see Cordy giving me a questioning look out of the corner of my eye.

“Y/N!” Dean’s hand lands on my shoulder, only moments after we reach the elevator bay. “Don’t leave, please, I’m begging you,” he pleads. “It’s the only way.”

"You're not doing this in front of Cordy, Dean," I scold him before turning my attention to Cordy. "Go take a seat over there, please," I gesture to a row of empty chairs.

"But, Y/N–" Cordy tries to protest.

"Now, Cordy." She pouts, and once she is far enough away that she can no longer hear us, Dean tries to start in again, but I beat him to it. "How fucking dare you. You think I'm gonna let you use Cordy and me to trick Sam into letting some,” I lower my voice as a staff worker walks by, “angel possess him?”

"I’m doing this for you, for Cordy.”

“You’re doing this for you, Dean,” I argue back. “You don’t even know this guy. He could be lying to you. How do you know he’s not going to just–” I can feel myself getting worked up and take a deep breath. “I might not know anything about angels, but you can’t tell me that Ezekiel doesn’t seem to be a little off?”

“So, what, you just– just want to let him die? You're ready to just give up on him?” Dean’s face grows red, and his forehead crinkles.

“Stop it, Dean,” I snap. “I want him back too, but this isn’t the way.” I take a deep breath. “I'm not okay with this, Dean, and you know Sam wouldn't be either."

“What about Cordy, everything you've told me? You want her to grow up without her dad?”

“Screw you, Dean.” I bite back, the palm of my hand connecting with his cheek. “Cordy is my kid and the most important person in my world. I won’t let you guilt me into thinking you're doing this for her.”

“We’re outta options, Y/N. What else do you want me to do? I can’t– I won’t walk away when there’s a chance to save him. Sam’ll–”

“Sam will never forgive you, Dean.”

“He might be pissed at me for the rest of his life, but at least he’ll be alive, Y/N.”

"I can't stop you, Dean. But if you go through with it: making Sam's choice for him, then you're making mine too." I call out for Cordy, and she joins me by my side again. "Say goodbye to Dean," I instruct her gently, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Don't do this," Dean whispers, and I shake my head, twisting slightly to press the button on the wall. I can't stay, not when I have two other people to think about. "Please."

Cordy hesitantly places her arms around Dean and mumbles goodbye to him. When she steps back, I lay my hands on her shoulder and pull her closer to me so that she can't see the tears slipping from my eyes.

"Goodbye, Dean," I say as I hear the doors ding open and turn around to step into the elevator. Dean's emerald eyes are filled with tears as I face him a final time. "I hope you make the right choice," I whisper as the doors close.

As we exit the hospital, Cordy questions why we’re leaving, and I struggle to find an answer. We'll be back on a plane to Lawrence tomorrow, and I do everything I can to evade her questions about Sam, eventually settling on Sam may never wake up.

We are walking into the house when a backfiring car sends me over the edge. Cordy helplessly watches as I’m thrust back into my memories of the night of the werewolf attack; its amber eyes staring me down, its claws swiping at me, how I had to lie to everyone about what happened, how I still have to. Sam never leaving my side until we were pulled apart by my parents.

My whole world is crashing down around me, and all I want is Sam. I want to feel his arms around me again, telling me that everything will be okay. I want to sink my body into his, taking solace in his comforting embrace, and let myself get lost in him. I want him to be with us forever, having the family he’s wanted since I told him I was pregnant all those years ago.

My Sam may be gone forever, and the only thing I can do is pray that Dean made the right decision.

Three Years Later

“Cordelia Mary!” I yell from the bottom of the stairs. “Your butt better be down here in five minutes.”

“Mo-om!” I hear her door opening, and she steps onto the landing. “That’s not enough time–”

“Too bad, kid,” I huff. “I mean it, Cordy, five minutes, or I'm taking your phone away.” A grumbled okay comes from the top of the stairs. I head back towards the kitchen, blue and green orbs watching me as I walk back in. “What’re we gonna do about her, Sammy?” I laugh as I bend down and scoop him up in my arms. “No ideas, huh?”

"You yell at sissy." He giggles when I nuzzle into his neck and blow raspberries on his chubby cheeks. “Sissy in t’ouble?"

"No, baby. Sissy isn't in trouble," I sit him down in his chair and run my fingers through his chestnut locks. Sammy’s eyes widen, and a smile forms when he looks behind me.

Large hands wrapping around my waist cause me to jump back and let out a yelp. I turn around to a cheeky grin; he’s obviously very proud of himself.

“You jerk,” I swat at his chest, trying to retain my serious demeanor, which becomes harder to do as Sammy’s laughter fills the kitchen. Warm, comforting arms pull me closer to him. I let my hands settle on the back of his neck, curling my fingers in his hair. He leans down to place a tender kiss on my lips, letting his two-day scruff scratch against my lips. “I don’t know why I put up with you sometimes.” I roll my eyes playfully at him.

“You say that, but,” his lips move to the shell of my ear, “we both know exactly why you put up with me.” He pulls back and gives me a wink. His hand leaves my waist and delicately takes my left hand into his kissing the diamond ring still settling on my finger. “‘Sides, you love me, and you know it.”

“Love?” I scoff, trying to hide my smile. “I don’t know if I would say that. Not if you insist on sneaking up on me all the time.”

“Sammy saw me, didn’t you?” I turn in his embrace, letting my back settle against his chest, and his arms stay tight around me. Sammy giggles and shakes his head. “Traitor,” he whispers.

I curl my hands around his arms; it has taken us so long to get here, something I never thought would happen. The watch on his wrist alerts me to the time, and I gently pull away from him, making my way back towards the stairs.

“Cordy! I’m serious!” I yell up the stairs, “You’d better be down here in two minutes!”

"Do you want me to talk to her?” he asks as I walk back into the kitchen. He’s sitting down next to Sammy, cutting fruit into halves as Sammy tries shoveling the food into his mouth. “See what the problem is?"

"She's a teenager; that's the problem," I laugh, taking a seat at the table. “Didn’t think you’d be here three years ago, did you?”

“What do you mean?” His eyebrow furrows in confusion.

“Raising a teenager and a toddler with someone who works ridiculous hours and has serious abandonment issues,” I keep my tone light, but he knows the insecurity behind my words.

“Y/N,” Jason reaches for my hand and gently squeezes it. “I told you a long time ago, I don’t give up that easily. If I didn’t think I could handle it, I wouldn’t have pursued you for as long as I did,” he says with a chuckle. “I love you, Y/N; Cordy and Sammy, they may not be mine, but I’ll never treat them any different than if they were. I’m never gonna walk away from you or them.”

Cordy is downstairs just as I’m about to call out for her again. She chatters away as she eats her breakfast, only to be interrupted by Sammy’s need to chime in. She placates her little brother, and we all listen intently as he struggles to connect one thought to another.

“C’mon, kid,” I stand up from the table, “it’s our turn to carpool; go get Ava.”

She quickly gets out of her chair and places a kiss on Sammy’s cheek. She lets Jason pull her in for a quick hug before grabbing her backpack and making for the front door. I lean down and place a kiss on his lips before doing the same with Sammy. By the time I’m outside, Cordy and Ava are both in the back seat, deep in conversation.

I drop the girls off at school and make my way back home, ready to sleep for hours and thankful that I have the next two days off. Jason plans his schedule around mine so that one of us can be home with Cordy and Sammy more often than not. On a day like today, when I’m coming off a twelve-hour shift from the hospital, he’ll leave late in the morning and come back in the early afternoon. I find it comforting to know that I will never have to worry about him not returning from a job.

Jason and Sammy are sitting on the living room floor when I walk through the door, watching some kids show that I can’t quite place. I laugh to myself when I notice that Jason seems to be just as invested as Sammy. I take the opportunity to sneak up on him, and Jason nearly jumps to his feet when my hands land on his back. Sammy lets out a loud, high-pitched squeal and claps his chubby hands together, laughing as Jason chuckles.

“Consider that your payback,” I giggle as he turns around, wrapping my arms around his neck, and he lands a playful swat on my ass.

"You'll pay for that later," he teases before leaning forward to press a kiss on my lips.

I sit with them for as long as I can before exhaustion starts to overpower my will to stay awake—damn midnight shifts.

I make my way upstairs and crawl into the comfort of my bed, allowing sleep to finally take me. The bed dips and the warmth of a body where there was once cold causes me to stir, and I roll over, opening my eyes to meet Jason’s blue ones. I smile sleepily as he presses his lips on my forehead and tells me that he’s put Sammy down for his nap. I pull his face downward, allowing him to kiss me properly. Jason holds me close, pulling me flush against him, letting me take comfort in his warm embrace until I’m asleep again.

“Mama.” Sammy’s small voice wakes me, and I open my eyes to see him reach for the edge of the bed, his curls matted on one side. “Wake up, mama!”

“Hey, baby,” I coo, trying to shake the hoarseness away. I swing my legs over the bed and reach for Sammy, pulling him into my lap. “Did you have a good nap?”

“Good nap, mama,” he repeats.

“Are you ready for a snack?” I ask as I stand up, letting Sammy settle on my hip.

“Hung’y, mama,” Sammy happily nods as we make our way downstairs.

I set Sammy down in his pack n’ play and pour some Puffs into a bowl, letting his loud crunching and noisy toys fill the kitchen as I fix us something to eat. As I’m setting the plates down, I hear a knock on the front door.

“Ugh, every time,” I complain, taking a small piece of apple and placing it in my mouth. “I’ll be back in just a minute, okay?”

“‘Kay, mama,” Sammy says as he picks up another puff.

Another rapping comes from the door, this one louder than the last, probably some salesperson, I murmur. When I open the door, all I see at first is a broad, tall body covered by a blue plaid shirt, and as I let my eyes travel up, I meet a pair of eyes that I never thought I’d see again.

“Sam.”

“Y/N/N.”

My heart races at the sound of my name on his lips, but I can’t move; the last time I saw Sam, Dean was about to let an angel possess him. What if this wasn’t Sam? What if this was Ezekiel? I eye him suspiciously. Should I call Cas?

“It’s me, Y/N/N,” Sam says as if he can read my mind.

“No.” I shake my head and attempt to close the door. “I don’t know who or what you are, but you stay away from my family and me.”

“Y/N/N, baby, it’s me." Sam gently steps forward and stops the door. "We met Thanksgiving 2002,” he offers. “I saved you from a werewolf, you clung to me the whole night, and I started falling for you right then. I had to convince my dad to let me stay, I told him it was for school, but it’s ‘cause I wanted to stay close to you. The first time you said ‘I love you’ was Valentine’s Day; we went to The Tavern, and you were concerned about the prices. The day you told me you were pregnant– it was one of the happiest days of my life, even though I was scared shitless. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you again at Joe’s. I wanted to tell you right then and there how much I missed you; how sorry I was–”

“You’re rambling,” I murmur, reaching out and pressing my palm to his cheek, and he leans into my touch. Sam wraps his arms around me, squeezing me tightly as if he’s afraid to let me go.

“What– what’re you doing here? How–?” I mumble into his chest.

“Cas,” Sam takes a deep breath. I let him hold on to me while I try to keep myself calm. “Told us you were in Lawrence; I can’t tell you how pissed Dean–” I pull away slightly, and Sam shakes his head. “Quick search gave me your address,” he gives me an embarrassed smile that quickly fades. Sam’s embrace around me loosens, and I step back to scan his face. The dark circles under his eyes hint at the fact that it’s probably been days since he last slept. “I guess I should have called first?” Sam lets out a laugh that seems to be hiding pained thoughts.

“It’s not that,” I shake my head. “I– I can’t believe you’re here. I didn’t think–”

Sam takes my hand in his rubbing it gently, and gives me a small smile. His brow furrows, and his smile quickly fades as his eyes travel down toward our connected hands.

“You’re married,” Sam states, brushing his thumb over the ring on my finger. “Of course you are." He lets go and shakes his head, seemingly in disbelief. “I’ll just– I’ll go. I don’t–”

“Wait, Sam,” I stop him. “Come in, please,” I insist. Sam nods his head warily, and I step aside so that he can walk in. I can hardly form a coherent thought as he walks into my house. He doesn’t make it far in before stopping, reaching out to touch a photo hanging on the wall. Even without a clear view, I know it’s of Cordy, taken only a few weeks ago on the first day of school. The smile that forms on Sam’s face is instant, and I can see his eyes beginning to water.

“Corie, she’s– she’s beautiful, Y/N/N,” he says, eyes never leaving the frame.

I join him in front of the photo, and I watch as he studies it intensely. "Let's talk," I whisper as I move away from the wall and towards the kitchen. My eyes immediately fall on Sammy when I walk back in, who’s keeping himself busy with one of his many toys, smiling at the random noises coming from him. I turn around when I can no longer feel Sam’s presence behind me, and I see him staring blankly at Sammy through the mesh material.

“You– you had a baby,” Sam murmurs, taking his eyes off the toddler and gives me a sad smile. “I’m happy for you, Y/N/N,” Sam’s words are hollow. “I'm sure Corie’s a great big sister."

“She tries,” I laugh slightly, “maybe Dean could–”

“Dean’s dead.” Sam cuts me off, his bluntness taking me by surprise. “He sacrificed himself so that we could be together– our family could be together,” Sam’s jaw clenches slightly, and his face reddens. “But I come back here, and you’re married, and have another kid–”

“Sam,” I move towards him. I know how it must look—that shortly after we last saw each other, I found someone else; that I replaced him. “I need to tell you–”

“No, Y/N/N, you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Voice laced with anger, Sam stiffens before taking a few steps back. “It’s been three years,” He turns around and heads back towards the front of the house. "I couldn’t expect you to wait around forever, could I?”

“Sam–!” I try to get his attention before he leaves, but he ignores me. I grab Sammy and chase him down as best I can with a toddler in my arms.

“I just– I want to be in Corie’s life, Y/N/N,” Sam says as he reaches for the door. “I want to know my daughter, and I want her to know me. I’m out of the life. Without Dean, I can’t do it; I’m not a hunter anymore. Talk it over with your husband; I’ll do whatever you want, Y/N/N, please, just don’t keep Corie away from me.”

“Sam, wait, please–” He’s halfway across the lawn when I stop him, my free hand landing on his shoulder. Sam stills but doesn’t turn around. I walk around him so that I’m standing in front of him. Sam’s eyes are bloodshot, tears flowing freely from them as he stares at the ground. “Stay.”

“I can’t,” Sam looks up to meet my gaze. “I can’t stay and not be with you, Y/N/N. You and Corie– You’re a real family now,” his eyes briefly land on Sammy again, who’s tugging at the necklace Sam gave me. “I’m not going to stand in your way. You and your husband–”

“Stop, Sam,” I plead, reaching up to wipe his tear-stained cheeks. “I’m so sorry about Dean.”

“We didn’t have any other choice,” Sam murmurs, leaning into my touch as I tuck back some of his fallen hair behind his ear. “Dean, he– he made me promise to come to find you, get our family back. Said that he wanted us to be together, made Cas tell me where you were. I-I didn’t think...” Sam shakes his head and his voice trembles. “I-I wanna stay nearby so that I can stay close to Corie.”

“Mama, look!” Sammy points to Jason’s truck as it pulls into the driveway and tries to squirm out of my hold. “Daddy!” By the time Sammy is down, Jason is already heading towards us. Sammy is wobbly on his feet as he makes for Jason, who lifts him into his arms, causing a giggle to leave Sammy.

“Hey, babe,” Jason places a light kiss on my lips and lets his free hand around settle on my waist. “Who’s this?”

“Jason, this is Sam,” I say cautiously. Jason’s brows raise in surprise as he seemingly puts it together. Sam doesn’t move, only narrowing his eyes on Jason. “Sam, this is Jason.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Jason offers his hand to Sam, and I know he’s trying to play nice. Sam doesn’t move, giving him a tight-lipped smile and a nod. Jason closes his hand and brings it back to his side. “I’m gonna take him inside,” Jason gestures to Sammy, breaking the growing tension between the three of us. “I can hear this one’s stomach growling,” he jokes. “You hungry, buddy?”

Sammy nods his head excitedly, and Jason lets him down onto the grass. Sammy is tugging at his arm, guiding Jason back towards the house.

“It was nice meeting you, Sam,” Jason says after taking a few steps away from us. Sam doesn’t respond again, only giving another nod.

Jason disappears back inside the house, leaving Sam and me alone on the lawn. I don’t know how to tell him everything that I need to.

“He’s cute,” Sam says half-heartedly, and I lift my brow in confusion, “The kid. I guess your husband is too. How long have you been together?”

“Jason isn’t– we’re not married,” I finally get the chance to correct him. “He proposed a couple of weeks ago.”

“Is he good to you?” Sam takes a step closer to me. “He treats you and Corie right? Because if he’s not–”

“He’s been good for us, all of us. Stepped into a role when he could’ve run the other direction,” I laugh slightly.

I can see that Sam has more questions, but my front yard’s public nature makes it difficult. Realizing that Cordy will be home in a couple of hours, I suggest going somewhere more private, promising to answer all of his questions. Sam agrees, and I run back into the house to redress and tell Jason that Sam and I need to discuss everything alone. Jason hesitates, but he reluctantly agrees that it would be for the best. I leave him and Sammy with a kiss, promising to be back in a few hours.

"Dean said that you came to the hospital." Sam sits down across from me at the diner, nodding politely at the waitress as she drops off our two coffees.

"I had to," I murmur, bringing the ceramic cup to my lips and taking a sip. "I'm sorry that I didn't stay. I wanted to, but something about Ezekiel and what Dean wanted him to do, it didn't feel right."

"It's okay," Sam assures me and reaches across the table to take my hand in his. "Ezekiel, he– he wasn’t who he said he was, he lied to Dean from the start, didn’t even tell him his real name, Gadreel. When Dean became suspicious, Gadreel– he locked me away inside my mind, and used my body to kill innocent people,” Sam tears his gaze away from mine and brings his hand back into his lap. “It’s good that you left. You and Corie, you– you wouldn’t have been safe if you stayed.”

Sam spends the better part of the next hour filling me in on everything that happened since we’d last seen each other. I don’t know how to tell Sam about Sammy, and for a brief moment, I consider letting him think that Sammy isn’t his, but quickly decide against it. Sam's face lights up when I tell him, and tears fill his eyes as I pull out my phone to show him the trove of photos of Sammy and Cordy. If Sam was truly out, then I had to give him the chance to be a part of our lives, didn’t I? Cordy and Sammy deserve the chance to know Sam, the Sam I fell in love with.

It’s late by the time I return, and I do everything I can to act as if everything is normal. Cordy, Sammy, and Jason are curled up on the couch, watching a movie, and I greet them quickly before heading upstairs. Cordy calls out for me to join them, causing Jason to turn around and take in my appearance. I tell her I’ll be back down after a shower, and I see Jason getting up out of the corner of my eye.

I don’t realize that Jason is behind me until I hear the door closing only moments after walking into my room.

"I think we should talk," He murmurs, closing the gap between us. I fiddle with the ring on my finger and move towards the bed, taking a seat on the edge. "About us, the kids; about Sam," I nod, and my eyes stay fixated on the ring on my finger. “Whatever happened today, just- just don’t lie, Y/N, please, no matter how difficult the truth is.”

“Okay,” I nod again, and Jason places a kiss on my temple.

“You told me that Sam disappeared,” Jason moves down so that our eyes can meet. “Did you know that he was going to show up here today?”

The topic of Sam was a difficult one for me to breach with Jason. He’s never pushed me for more information than what I am willing to give him. When we first started dating, Sammy was only a few months old. I had finally come to terms with the fact that Sam was most likely dead or worse. Radio silence from Dean seemingly confirmed my suspicions, and I allowed myself to move on, to fall in love again. My feelings for Sam never disappeared, they stayed deep inside me, and when I saw him again, they all came rushing to the surface.

"No," I answer honestly. "The last time I saw Sam, he was in a coma. His brother and I couldn’t agree on what to do. Dean wanted to use,” I hesitate, “extreme measures, I had just found out I was pregnant with Sammy, and I couldn’t–” I don’t know how to explain it to Jason; how I seemingly took Cordy and ran away. I try to find something that resembles the truth. “He was dying, I wanted him to get better, but I couldn’t watch him become an empty shell of himself. Dean had medical power of attorney, and I had no chance of winning any contestation. Legally, Sam’s not Cordy’s dad; there was nothing I could do. Cordy and I said goodbye, and we left. I thought he died since we didn’t hear from either of them again.”

Jason listens carefully and takes a deep breath before speaking again. Whatever it is, I can tell it's going to be difficult. “Did anything happen while you were with him?"

I’m caught off-guard by the question, and guilt begins to fill every inch of my body. I look away from Jason and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair is mussed, and my lips are still swollen; it couldn’t be any more obvious what happened. Jason is studying me when I face him again, and tears fill my eyes. I don’t want to admit what Sam and I did less than two hours ago.

“Jason, please," I beg, my shame taking over. “I can’t.”

"Please, Y/N," he demands softly, and a choked sob leaves me. “Did you kiss him?” I nod my head and Jason tenses. I glance up and see a mixture of anger and sadness at my confession, which only makes me cry harder.

“Did you–” Jason struggles to get the words out, and I fear I know exactly what his next question will be. “Did you sleep with him?”

"I'm sorry!" I cry, and Jason moves away from me at my confession. He paces the floor in front of me, face growing redder by the second, his jaw clenches, and I see him ball his fists. “I didn’t– I wasn’t– It just happened.”

"It just happened?" Jason stops in his tracks, questioning me in disbelief. "You don't accidentally sleep with someone who isn't your fiancé, Y/N!"

“I- I know,” I sob, barely able to choke out the words. “It all hap-happened so fast," I try to explain myself. “One minute we were talking and the next Sam was kissing me and then…”

"I don't need the details, Y/N," Jason snaps. "Just tell me, why?"

"I don't know. I wasn't thinking. I needed closure; we've never been able to give each other a proper goodbye."

"And sleeping with him got you that?!" He asks in a hushed yell. If the kids weren't downstairs, we'd be in a screaming match right now. "A proper goodbye? So does that mean Sam's leaving? That he’s going to give you and Cordy and Sammy up? Disappear from our lives forever?"

"I-I don't know," I say between sniffs.

Jason storms out of the room, leaving me alone with my guilt. Jason had been there for Sammy’s birth, holding my hand the entire time. He stepped into the role of step-father when he could’ve walked away. Jason is the only father Sammy has ever known; Cordy took longer to warm up to him, still holding out hope that Sam would be a part of our lives again one day. Jason and I discussed him adopting both Cordy and Sammy after we were married, but now that Sam is back, I’m questioning everything.

When Jason returns half an hour later, he’s calmer than before, but I can still see the anger written on his face. He didn’t deserve what Sam and I did to him, and I wouldn’t blame him for leaving me—us. I watch closely as he walks over to the bed and sits down next to me.

“Are you still in love with Sam?” Jason hesitantly asks and takes my hand in his, his thumb grazing over the ring. “Do you want to be with him?”

“He’s Cordy and Sammy’s dad; a part of me will always love him.”

“That’s not what I asked, Y/N,” Jason gently grabs my chin and turns my face towards him. “Are you in love with Sam?” He asks more pointedly.

“I– I don’t know,” I murmur.

“Y/N,” he sighs, “I love you, and if you tell me this won’t ever happen again, I am ready to find a way for us to work through it. But you have to decide what you want, who you want: Sam, or me.”

I let his words sink in, wondering if the situations were reversed if I would be able to do the same. I can’t tell him something like that will never happen again because I don’t know if I can ever trust myself to not fall back into Sam’s arms. Sam was all I ever wanted for ten years, but I had to put my feelings for him aside so that I could focus on Cordy and Sammy; I have to do what’s best for them.

“I’m going to stay at my house tonight.” Jason’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Think about what I’ve said.” He leans down and places a kiss on my forehead.

“Jason,” I reach for his hand, “I never meant to hurt you.”

He smiles sadly, then leaves. I hear him say goodbye to Cordy and Sammy. The silence that follows when the front door closes breaks my heart. A few minutes later, Cordy carries Sammy into my room, and they both crawl into my bed. She’s old enough to understand that something happened between Jason and me. I don’t know if I should tell her of Sam’s return and decide against it. I’m not ready to answer the questions that will inevitably follow. The three of us fall asleep together; Sammy sandwiched between Cordy and me.

When I wake up the next morning, I know what I want. I know who I want. He was the last thing to cross my mind before I fell asleep and the first thing I thought of when I woke up.

I reach for my phone and send him a message asking him to come over as soon as possible. He replies quickly, telling me he will be over shortly. I put the phone down and turn to wake Cordy and Sammy. She grumbles, but I give her a little nudge and ask her to wait downstairs. Cordy sends me a questioning look through her sleepy features, but she complies when I tell her it’s important.

Cordy’s still half-asleep on the couch when I make my way down, Sammy propped on my hip, also unable to keep his eyes open. My whole body is shaking with nerves as I impatiently wait for him to arrive.

Three light raps on the door have me on my feet in seconds, racing towards the future with the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I swing the door open, letting him step into the house, and he wraps his arms around Sammy and me, holding onto us as tight as he can. I relax into his embrace and breathe in his familiar scent.

As I pull away, I let my eyes fall on his familiar features. I run my free hand through his hair, and a smile appears on his lips. He leans down to press a gentle yet eager kiss on my lips. His rough, calloused fingers tenderly brush against Sammy’s face, and tears fill his eyes as he takes in the little boy’s features. I hand Sammy over to him and notice how small the toddler looks wrapped in his arms. He closes his eyes in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, but when he opens them again, I see the kaleidoscope of blues and greens that I had fallen in love with all those years ago.

“Cordy,” I call into the living room, “come here, please.”

I can hear the padding of Cordy’s feet as she mumbles about it being too early to be up. When she turns the corner, Cordy’s eyes widen, and a broad smile spreads across her face. She runs towards us, ready to jump into his arms.

"Dad!"

A/N 3: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it! I did not intend on this chapter on being as long as it is, but, sometimes you can't stop yourself from writing!

Did you love it? Hate it? Please give a reblog or send an ask and let me know what you think of this final chapter!

Elastic Heart Tags @manawhaat   @that-one-gay-girl @awesomesusiebstuff​ @mrswhozeewhatsis @ilovetaquitosmmmm @suckmyapplejacks​ @traceyaudette​ 

Forever Tags: @akshi8278​

#sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn family

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2020 Day 17: Hurt/Comfort & Whump

the time has come | @elizaeverafter

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1068 Main Tags/Warnings: no archive warnings apply, non-graphic pet death, angst with a happy ending, hopeful ending, established relationship, married castiel/dean winchester, emotional hurt/comfort Summary: The second Dean walked into their home, he should’ve picked up on the fact that something was wrong. Looking back on it, it was so silent that it was suffocating. There was an unnatural stillness, like their house knew something bad had happened and was trying not to involve itself.

Beautiful | @ialwayscomewhenyoucall

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1367 Main Tags/Warnings: human!cas, hurt/comfort, injured cas, first kiss Summary: “How long has he been sitting there?” Dean starts; he’d been watching Cas and hadn’t heard Sam behind him. “Five hours.” Dean practically spits out the words. “He won’t eat. He won’t move to a more comfortable chair. He won’t even take his damn pain pills. And he can’t tell me that doesn’t hurt, I know what a broken collar bone feels like. He’s just so--” ***** In which Cas, now fully human for several months, has been injured, and Dean has to Use His Words to comfort his friend.

Teardrops For You | @envydean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1500 Main Tags/Warnings: Grief, Character Death, Established Relationship, Funerals, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dean and Cas holding each other, Sadness, slight fluff, Angst, Car Accidents, Nightmares, Cuddling, Holding, Crying, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting Summary: The accident killed her and left Dean alive and emotionally broken. He's a disgrace. His best friend is dead and he can't even cry for her.

Soup & Syrup | @suckerfordeansfreckles

Rating: General Word Count: 1548 Main Tags/Warnings: best friends to lovers, getting together, sick Cas Summary: Cas started feeling sick two days ago, throat raw and hurting, every part of his body in pain as if he’ll burn up with fever any second. Then he had to cancel his and Dean's weekly study date in the library this afternoon, to stay home and take a quick nap that accidentally ended up four hours long and left him groggy and sweaty and weird. Dean has been sending him texts, five since he cancelled earlier, and as soon as Cas felt awake and present enough to respond, he called. This is where they are now, around 1 a.m. on a Saturday. He didn’t really stop to look at the clock before he called Dean, but — well. He was just hoping Dean would be awake, maybe out with friends. He was just hoping that maybe, maybe, Dean would come by and dote a little on him. Just because having his best friend around always makes him feel better. Not because he craves Dean’s presence, his palm on Cas’ forehead and his hands tucking him in beneath his blanket. Absolutely not.

The Admission | @deservetobesaved

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1720 Main Tags/Warnings: season 13, all the feelings Summary: Castiel finds out Dean threatened to kill Jack. He also finds out how broken Dean was when he died. So, naturally, he confronts him about it. A sort of fix-it coda, in or after 13x06.

Knowing | @unexpecteddreamz

Rating: General Word Count: 2013 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Demon Dean Summary: Of all the things Castiel might have expected to see, this was the last... It might well be the last thing he ever sees! Castiel is ""Always willing to bleed for the Winchesters"". Sam doesn't know how to fix what is broken. Dean is having nightmares. How did everything go so wrong so fast?

The Snow's Captives | SargentMom573 (AO3)

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2126 Main Tags/Warnings: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Sick Castiel, Caretaker Dean, Cabin Fic Summary: Dean was not going to make it alive down the mountain in a week’s time. Why? Because Cas was going to kill him, that’s why.

Skin Wars | @cr-noble-writes

Rating: General Word Count: 2319 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst, Artist!Dean, Model!Cas, body painting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cas protecting Dean from himself, shy!Dean, introvert!dean, Baby, graffiti artist!charlie, artist!Balthazar, art critic!Crowley, TV host!Anna, Skin Wars AU Summary: Dean, a traditionally trained artist, is competing for $100,000 in the reality body painting TV show, Skin Wars. He’s lucky enough to get paired with a friend as his model, Cas, for a particularly personal challenge. Dean feels his painting isn’t up to snuff, but what will the judges think?

Take Me Home | @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2683 Main Tags/Warnings: Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Sexual Abuse, Non-con/Rape outside of Castiel/Dean Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, TW: Mentions of Non-con/Rape Summary: “I want to go home.” Dean let out, in a strangled voice. “Of course -” Cas reached for Dean’s hand, prepared to fly them away. Dean pulled away his hand, and rested his head backwards, against the seat. It seemed impossibly long before he finally asked. Unsure, as if somehow he still felt like Castiel could deny him anything. “Could you drive?”

Cold Comfort | @noiproksa

Rating: General Word Count: 3232 Main Tags/Warnings: Sharing Body Heat, Hypothermia, Huddling for Warmth, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Banter Summary: Dean and Cas are trapped in a room with temperatures well below zero. When even sharing vessel heat doesn’t seem to help anymore, they need to do whatever it takes to keep each other alive. (Intended as gen, but can be read as Destiel pre-slash.)

Exodus | @spnsmile

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3365 Main Tags/Warnings: Explicit, noncon, hurt/ comfort Summary: Endverse!Dean comes back alive. He comes back to the camp to find he was gone for almost a month and that Castiel now serves a different captain. Like hell Dean Winchester will let that happen.

save that light | @specsofwings

Rating: Mature Word Count: 4779 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Assassin Dean Winchester, Human Castiel, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Whump, Kidnapping, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Blasphemy/Religious Imagery and Symbolism, Crucifixion, Major Character Injury, Heavy Angst, Angst With a Happy Ending, Trauma, Healthy Relationship, Hurt/Comfort Summary: He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive— Dean isn’t sure if it’s his brain, if he’s speaking aloud, if it’s Jody, next to him in the car, but he’s alive, Castiel is alive, and then there is darkness.

The Empty's Curse | @cloverhighfive

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5380 Main Tags/Warnings: major character death, angst, fluff Summary: Dean is dying and there is no getting out of it this time. After a round of goodbyes from friends, Castiel takes Dean on one last ride.

Shiver | @nickelkeep

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5714 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern with Magic, Witchcraft, Getting Back Together, Blizzards and Snowstorms, Car Accident, Snowed In, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, NSFW Summary: In desperate need of his journal to complete a spell, Dean braves a snowstorm to return to the cabin - and the man - left behind. Can a freak accident repair what's been damaged? Or will their lack of communication push Dean and Cas apart forever?

Six Feet Under Water | zaphodsgirl (AO3)

Rating: Mature Word Count: 7638 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: This story is inspired by the amazing art of dragonpressgraphics, accompanied by this prompt: "Can be canon or AU (though Canon preferred - see below why) where Cas almost drowns and either Dean witnessed it or rescues him - would love a fic where Cas then has to deal with fear of drowning afterwards - maybe Dean too has nightmares about Cas drowning because of the same experience (bonus if references are made to season 6/7 where Cas walked into the water because of the Leviathans). Loads of angst more than okay as long as story has happy ending"

This Path Is Paved With Kitty Litter | @navajolovesdestiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8392 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Grieving Castiel (Supernatural), Caring Dean Winchester, Veterinary Assistant Dean, Deanna The Kitten, Explicit Sexual Content Summary: The man moved from cage to cage, petting each cat in turn. Dean could hear his sigh from where he was standing. Dean walked over to him. The guy looked up at Dean and again, his eyes made Dean’s knees weak. “Hey, guy, you spend a lot of time with these cats. You thinking about adopting one?” The look on the guy’s face went from sad to stricken. “Uh… n-no, I’m… I’m just looking at them.” The look made Dean’s chest hurt.

After the Fallout | @cr-noble-writes

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8832 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Apocalypse, Post-Nuclear War, some body horror, Major Character Injuries, Nightmares, Mutants, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Smut, Angst, Conspiracy, top!dean, Bottom!Cas Summary: Its been years since the nuclear catastrophe that decimated the world. From the moment Dean Winchester stepped foot on the surface again, he’s been running from mutant creatures that want to kill him. When will it end?

I'm Thankful I get to Leave | @sheinthatfandom

Rating: Mature Word Count: 11079 Main Tags/Warnings: thanksgiving dinner, alternate universe- human, dysfunctional family, uncomfortable topics, red flags, emotional manipulation, emotional incest, homophobia, ableism, racism, bad parent mary, bad parent john, bobby used to be married to mary Summary: Screw you Columbus now we have to eat at Mary’s pretending to not be the Jerry Springer version of the Brady Bunch instead of getting ready for Christmas.

The Last Thing I Wanted | @nickelkeep

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11492 Main Tags/Warnings: AU - Fantasy, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Whump, Prince!Dean, Concubine!Cas Summary: When Castiel is grievously wounded during an unsanctioned battle, it's all Prince Dean can do to make sure he lives the rest of his life comfortably. However, due to the archaic laws of Terra, Castiel is too lowborn to hold lands, deeds, or titles. What better way to solve an archaic problem than with a just-as-antiquated solution?

Healing an Angel | @noiproksa

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 12017 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Castiel, Canon Compliant, Friendship, Team Free Will, Wing Grooming, Aftermath of Torture Summary: Cas has been captured by shapeshifters who have been torturing him for weeks. The aftermath is not pretty, but Dean will do anything to get his angel through this and get him to trust them again. To make matters worse, the mastermind behind Cas’ capture is still alive. Will they be able to keep him from coming after Cas again?

Cloned to Perfection | @fangirlingtodeath513

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 16298 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel/Dean Winchester,Castiel (Supernatural),Dean Winchester,Sam Winchester,Bobby Singer,Charlie Bradbury,Cain (Supernatural),Alastair (Supernatural),John Winchester,Alternate Universe - Future,Marine Castiel (Supernatural),John Winchester Being an Asshole,Canon-Typical Violence,Human Experimentation,Government Experimentation,Genetic Engineering,Clones,Gun Violence,Shooting Guns,Fugitives,Hacking,Government Conspiracy,Blow Jobs,Come Swallowing,Interrogation,Truth Serum,Needles,Brief Mentions of Torture (Not TFW),Alternate Universe - No Monsters,Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss,Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time,Hand Jobs,Angst with a Happy Ending,Happy Ending,Minor Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer,Minor Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle,Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester Summary: For thirty years, Dean’s been in the dark about a bombshell of a family secret. When an AWOL soldier shows up on his doorstep in the middle of the night, he’s shoved into a world he had no idea existed. He never asked to be cloned. He never asked to have his genome edited to make him a super-soldier. He didn’t even know. Now his fate rests in the hands of a ragtag group—Castiel, the AWOL soldier sent as a warning by Sam and Dean’s father; Charlie, an ingenious hacker and Dean’s best friend; and his brother Sam, who’s also being chased by the government for the same reason. Can they pull the rug out from under the military general who’s after their father’s research, or will Sam and Dean be doomed to live the remainder of their lives being experimented on by the military?

He Can't Sleep | @pray4jensen

Rating: Mature Word Count: 18970 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Marriage, Domestic, Case Fic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Summary: He’s done soaping up Cas’ hair. He grabs the sponge at his side and starts to scrub at Cas’ skin, up along his arms, his neck, down his chest. When he runs it up his legs, to his thighs, Cas shudders and then there’s a hand cupping Dean’s cheek, cold and dripping water and soap, and Dean falters, looks at him for the first time. “Will you sleep with me?” Cas says. “Tonight?” Dean swallows. He says yes.

One Last Time | @confusedcasishere

Rating: Mature Word Count: 27370 Main Tags/Warnings: Sex Worker Dean Winchester, Dom/Sub, Dom Castiel/ Sub Dean Winchester, Lawyer Castiel, Top Castiel/ Bottom Dean Winchester, Porn With Plot Summary: After some convincing, Castiel agrees to try out a sex club. He’s nervous and looking for any excuse to back out, until he stumbles across a photo of a beautiful sub with captivating green eyes. Cas has to have him.

Highway to Hell (WIP) | @tucuxia

Rating: Mature Word Count: 31551 Main Tags/Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Gabriel Has a Crush on Sam Winchester, Alpha Sam Winchester/Omega Gabriel, Alpha Balthazar/Omega Crowley, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Dean's life hasn't been great, Biker Castiel, Biker Sam Winchester Summary: Castiel, who shares leadership of the Hells Angels biker gang with his two older alpha brothers, finds out that a rival gang has been encroaching on their territory. During a tense meeting with the Devil's Blood gang in Lawrence, KS, he becomes the owner of a scared, broken young omega named Dean. Having forgotten how to speak after a decade under Azazel's cruel ownership, can the young omega learn to trust his new family, and maybe reconnect with the one he lost?

I Choose You (WIP) | @baby-in-a-trenchcoat7

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 43284 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Destiel, Slight Smut, High School Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester Summary: High School AU. Castiel Novak has a dirty dream about the captain of the baseball team, Dean Winchester. Dean has a dirty dream about the nerdy Novak boy who hangs around the art room a lot. Castiel becomes Dean’s tutor, and the two soon learn that keeping their relationship platonic is harder than they thought. As their relationship develops, the two have to fight to overcome their problems while doing everything they can to stay together. Rated Explicit for sexual scenes.

Emergence | @ellis-park

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 58862 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon fic, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, amnesia, graphic depictions of violence Summary: Something’s been missing from Dean’s life for the past three years, a void left after a hunt gone terribly wrong. He often feels a sense of longing with no discernible cause, a need to talk to someone who isn’t there. A call from an acquaintance leads Dean to James Novak, a man who disappeared more than a decade ago, and suddenly Dean gets the feeling he’s found what he’s been missing. But James isn’t really James — he’s the angel Castiel, who’s wanted by angels, demons and hunters alike. And he may be at the center of the storm that wrecked Dean’s life all those years ago.

Forbidden Fruit (WIP) | @amyoatmeal

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 95427 Main Tags/Warnings: professor student au, stripper au, age difference, top!castiel/bottom!dean, unrequited castiel/balthazar, unrequited dean winchester/aaron bass, dean winchester & charlie bradbury, threats of noncon/sexual abuse, threats of violence, mentions of past trauma/abuse, angst Summary: Castiel Novak is a respectable, if not a little boring professor at his university. He lives a comfortable, financially stable life with his cat in his modestly-sized apartment. It would appear he has everything he needs, including an over-eager friend and colleague, but when fate tempts him with a seemingly familiar new student by the name of Dean Winchester, Castiel's comfortable life threatens to get turned on its head and things start to get a little juicy.

Stay With Me, Sweetheart | @a-mandala-rose

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 108710 Main Tags/Warnings: Dean/Cas, Dean/Lisa, Past Dean/Others, Past Cas/Others, Kid Fic, Serious Major Character Injury, Car Accident, PTSD/Panic Attacks, House Fires, Past Minor Canonical Character Death, Minor OC Death, Past Emotional Abuse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Referenced Top Dean/Bottom Cas, Explicit Top Cas/Bottom Dean Summary: “Alright Cas, here comes the hard part. We’re gonna get you out of here, but we’ve gotta take the roof off and while we do that, we’re gonna have to cover you with a sheet to protect you from the glass. I’ll be right here though. I’m not going anywhere.” As he starts to drift away, he suddenly feels the press of Dean’s forehead against his own through the rough fabric and hears that warm, sunlit voice murmer quietly in his ear, too low to be overheard by the firefighters currently working to remove the SUV’s roof, “Stay with me, Sweetheart.” A single moment's distraction ends with a serious car accident that leaves Castiel trapped in his vehicle. Fortunately for him, fire fighter Dean Winchester is there, never leaving Castiel's side as the rest of his company work to free him from the mangled remains of his SUV. When the two meet again in the ICU, Castiel finds himself just as drawn to and comforted by the handsome fireman as he was during his accident. Dean is certainly attractive, but single father Castiel doesn't have time or space in his life for a romantic relationship. Then again, there's no harm in making a new friend, is there?

#destiel trope collection 2020 #destiel trope collection #destiel #hurt comfort #whump #day 17

[cassiecasyl]

I bit off more than I could chew when I looked closer

Day 2 of @starrynightdeancas‘s spn content creator event!! For today’s prompt, AUs, I decided to try my hand on an AU that has been in my head for months. 

This is meant as an introductionary piece to the concept/idea of the AU, and thus I expected it to be relatively short, like around 500 words. I ended up with over double that amount. Whoops? 

this AU is based on the MV of Obey by Bring Me The Horizon & YUNGBLUD  ship: Destiel  additional tags: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Mecha, Dystopia, Brainwashed Castiel, Memory Loss, Flashbacks read on ao3

Castiel maneuvered his suit through the city, the metal feet stomping heavily on concrete, but he was careful not to hit any cars. The people knew to avoid him and evacuate the streets he walked through, and it was rare that he had to stop so he wouldn’t cause a fatal accident. He was proud to be the angel with least civilian casualties. 

It wasn’t often they patrolled through inhabited areas anyway. But ever since Micheal lost his sword as he lovingly called his suit - a name Castiel never really got -, heaven was worried. They suspected it to have been stolen by the resistance, which would give them a fighting chance. Outwards, they remained calm of course, but Castiel noticed the stress his superiors were under. 

The whispered rumors that became loud enough to reach heaven’s ears only added to this. The Kingslayer would return, they said. It was an old legend, and Naomi put it down to simple propaganda of the resistance, but Castiel couldn’t help but feel like something was happening. 

Castiel let his eyes wander from his view over the city through the glass wall of a skyscraper next to him. Momentarily, he was entranced by the humans bustling through the busy office, so caught up in their own lives. It always fascinated him how different they were. Yet, they shared the same burden of heaven’s cross on their shoulder. Castiel shook his head to shy the blasphemous thoughts away. Heaven was a blessing, he reminded himself. A human spotted him from where they were standing in the office and waved at the angel with a big grin. He nodded to himself. They were happy. No need to worry. 

Just as he raised the suit’s heavy hand to awkwardly wave back, there was a familiar clank behind him. He frowned. It was characteristic for fledgling’s to cause this noise while walking, being not as used to their suits yet, but he was sure he’d have heard about it if the Academy had a field day in his sector. As far as he knew, the graduation class was far from that point, especially in the current state of things.  Though he wasn’t exactly close to any other sector, he prepared for a familiar face. 

The suit in front of him was nothing like he’d ever seen. Its metal was more brown than the usual gold of angel armor, whether it was due to dirt, rust, or something completely different, Castiel couldn’t tell. The iconic silver of Michael’s elite group shimmered through in some places, sending dread down his nervous system. It was a perfect patchwork, wistfully constructed despite the differing materials. Above its green-tainted eyes, it bore the symbol of the resistance - a star within a sun - instead of the usual cross of the angels. 

He couldn’t remember the last time the resistance dared to show their face. Still, there was something about it that seemed so awfully familiar. Castiel couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew this face. But how? 

“Castiel, do you copy?” Uriel’s voice buzzed through the intercoms, breaking him out of his thoughts. Quickly, he pressed the button that allowed him to speak. 

“I do,” he answered. His finger lingered on the button for a minute, but eventually, he let it go without further words. Why didn’t he say anything? He was right in front of him. They could catch him and rid the resistance of the suit and maybe even an important member. Why did he remain quiet? 

“We’ve got bad news that the resistance got a suit somewhere in the area. Have you seen anything?” Uriel continued and Castiel let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. All would be good. 

“I have,” he said, anxiety still trying to catch his tongue. Where did he know this face from? “In fact, I’ve got contact. It’s standing right in front of me.” He regarded the suit before him once again, giving it an once-over and halting at its green eyes. 

“Good. Stay there,” Uriel instructed, “We’re-” 

Suddenly, a ray of sunshine blinked through the grey sky and landed on hills of green. His opponents eyes gleamed mischievously, and he tilted his head as if he had winked at him. It was unreal. 

“What’s the word, Cas?” the man asked as he approached, an easy grin on his lips. Castiel turned around, letting it warm his freezing body. The sunlight transformed his eyes into a breath-takingly beautiful mossy green, and all he wanted was to get lost in it, while they slowly indulged in secret kisses. He blinked. 

“It’s a shortened version of my name,” he deadpanned, delighted in the annoyed eye-roll he got in response. He knew this man. The image of a patchwork suit flashed before his eyes, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. 

“You know what I mean,” he chuckled. The warmth in their faces was more than the sunlight shining down on them as they sat on the outpost. Castiel drank it in like a flower that’s been trapped in the dark, like Dean was the sun freeing him from winter. Dean. Who the hell was Dean? 

“All quiet,” he answered, only going along with the script being laid on his tongue. He didn’t know what was going on. The man, Dean, nodded. 

“Castiel. Do you copy?” Naomi’s voice trilled through him, reaching him in whatever dream he was caught. He frowned in fear. When had Naomi come here? When had the voice changed from Uriel to her? 

“I copy,” he answered, his voice weirdly shaky. A tear rolled down his cheek and he shook his head to get rid of it. He didn’t want to cry. Not with his superiors on the coms and heaven counting on him. What was even happening to him? The resistance’s suit was still standing there in front of him, unmoving, and somewhere in his mind Castiel registered it as odd. 

“Do you still have contact?” If she was relieved about Castiel’s answer, she didn’t express it. 

“I do.” 

“Initiate combat,” Naomi ordered sternly, leaving no place for arguments. Castiel nodded, more to himself, looking down at the controls. He knew what to do. Then why couldn’t he move? 

“Attack him, Castiel,” she clarified. He could sense the edge in her voice sharpening. But, he couldn’t. What if it was Dean? He thought back at the warmth he felt there. No, he shook his head. Dean didn’t mean anything. 

“Castiel.” The command cut through the air, frazzled by the coms. His breaths came out in short, panicked gasps, his brain short-circuiting while he still couldn’t bring himself to move. What was happening? 

Dean. The word had such a familiarity to it. It was family. Warmth. Love. He blinked, trying to grasp the definition of the word. 

“Fight him, Castiel. Kill him if you must.” Naomi was losing patience fast. 

I won’t hurt Dean Winchester. The phrase tasted strangely like a deja-vu on his tongue, but he couldn’t fathom why. He never had reason to say them, did he? Why would he? Dean was nobody, a fragment of his imagination. He didn’t exist as far as he knew. 

“Raphael is on her way to you, but if you won’t fight, you’ll be in major trouble,” Naomi warned. Castiel shuddered as pain stabbed into his temples alongside the words. He wanted to scream. Instead, he nodded. 

We saved you, Castiel. Don’t you want to compensate us for the trouble we went through? He remembered Naomi saying so long ago when she asked him to become an angel. Though he couldn’t remember where they rescued him from - Naomi had explained that the memory loss was a trauma response - he knew it was true. 

Finally, he answered, “Initiating combat.” 

Please let me know if you want to read more of this AU!! I’d be more than happy to return to it!

tag list: @aniridescentdreamer @nightmare-in-plaid @gnbrules @luciferstempest @castiel-for-lunch

#dailydestieldelights #destiel #destiel AU #deancas #obey #bring me the horizon #yungblud #science fiction #mecha #this was so hard to tag on ao3 #not me writing this all afternoon instead of working on uni stuff