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castiel-kline · 3 years

Note

cas and balthazar meet again post finale

This one really got away from me, and it got really long. I promise it does answer the prompt but I also made it super plotty for some reason. I hope you don’t mind!

Being taken by the Empty didn’t feel like dying.

Of course, that’s what was happening to him, but it didn’t feel like that. It felt cold, and painful, and vengeful. Lonely and miserable and laced with glittering knives of regret.

It was his damnation. Not the traditional sense of the word, but true nonetheless.

But if facing it meant he’d save his family? Save Jack from being subject to the same fate? He’d damn himself to this a thousand times over, without a single shred of hesitation.

The Empty had him entirely covered in its goo, tendrils snaking under his skin and into his body from every angle. In through the eyes, the nose, snaking down his throat. Under the fingernails, into the ears, scraping through the tattered remnants of his grace and pressing down around his true form.

It was agony.

Eventually it subsided, and some of the inky tendrils retracted, leaving him gasping for air that neither existed in this realm nor was truly necessary. He collapsed in a heap, the Empty bubbling around him. He spared a glance up, wondering if the Shadow were nearby to gloat before sending them both into slumber. What he saw… well. Unexpected didn’t quite cover it.

“Jack?”

“Hmm. Guess again, Castiel.”

“No.” Don’t you dare look like him.

“Oh, yes. Because it hurts you to look at him, doesn’t it?” The Shadow leaned down, condescension clear as day in its every move. So wrong on Jack’s face that it twisted something deep within him. It stared him down, watching him squirm, mania-painted smirk stretching wider. “Good. I want you to suffer, so that’s what you’re going to do.”

“I thought you wanted your peace and quiet,” Cas managed, as more tendrils snaked out over his wrists and ankles. Dragging him a little bit further down, completely at the Empty’s mercy. Somehow he suspected that was the point.

The Shadow straightened, looking down Jack’s nose at him.

“Of course I do,” It said, emulating Jack’s earnestness. Liar. “But I can’t!”

“What?”

“Wonderboy-” the Shadow gesticulated wildly in the direction of its facsimile body “-woke everybody up when he exploded all over me. So I don’t get to sleep, no, and if I don’t get to sleep then you definitely don’t get to sleep. None at all.”

Quicker than a blink, the Shadow had fisted Castiel’s collar in its hands, bringing their faces inches apart.

“At least,” It whispered, eyes wild with an energy Jack had never, and would never, possess. “I get to make you suffer like you’ve made me suffer. So I want you to look at this face, Castiel. Look at it, and know that it’s contorted in tears right now because Papa Bear abandoned him.”

The Shadow threw him down, the goo swallowing him right back up. Submerged in the dark, he scarcely felt its weight. He was too busy drowning in a fresh cascade of guilt.

It yanked him back up, tendrils leaving him suspended in the middle of nothing. Some of them twisted at his feathers, pulling them just enough to be excruciating but not enough to rip them free. He screamed.

“Be quiet!” The Empty released him, and Cas fell back down, every fibre of his being crying out in pain.

The Shadow cackled, everything about it from the pitch to the cadence to the intention screaming wrong, wrong, wrong.

“You’re never going to regret this, are you?”

Cas glared at it, mustering up as much defiance as he could.

“No,” he croaked. “Because saving my family? That’s worth dying a thousand deaths.”

The Shadow doubled over laughing again. Then, quick as a blink, kicked him across the face, sending him reeling backwards.

“‘Die a thousand deaths’? Please. You’re pathetic, you know that?”

Castiel pushed himself back up, following the Shadow’s pacing with his eyes. It walked with one arm tucked behind its back, the other gesticulating as it spoke.

“Death isn’t going to be enough for you, hmm. Oh, you know what you’ve never been able to take?” It spun back around, grinning down at him. “You can’t stand seeing the pain you’ve caused. And since you can’t see what’s left of your precious little family- not that they even care that you died, by the way- how would you feel about seeing the angels again?”

No. He must have looked visibly afraid, because the Shadow only smiled wider.

“Not so pleasant a thought, hmm? Seeing as you killed most of them.” It laughed again, clapping its hands in an expression of glee that would have been endearing coming from Jack, but now simply served to be disturbing. “Oh, yes. It’ll be just like throwing a scrap of meat to a pack of starving dogs.”

Cas shook his head, but the Empty pressed on. It waved its hand, and Castiel was thrown some immeasurable distance away. He pushed himself to a sitting position, and watched in horror as the ground bubbled around him, and his brothers and sisters began to crawl their way out.

He recognized them, of course, because he’d taken care to never forget a single name. He saw Hael first, then Bartholomew, then Jonah and Efram and Ambriel and Samandriel. He saw Raphael, Uriel, Anna, Jophiel. He scrambled to his feet, unable to do anything but watch and wait for their wrath to undoubtedly descend upon him.

Someone grabbed him from behind and pulled, running and dragging Castiel with them. He didn’t fight it, figuring that whoever had him was going to inflict a world of pain and there wasn’t a thing to do but accept it. They’d gone a fair distance, if there was such a thing as distance in nothing, before they stopped and Cas turned to face who had taken him.

“Balthazar?” His voice came out strangled, as scarcely more than a whisper.

“Cas,” Balthazar said, staring at him with something unreadable in his eyes. “Your wings…”

“Balthazar,” Cas repeated, finding himself unable to say anything else, mind swirling in an inescapable vortex of grief and guilt and pain. “I’m sorry, my friend. I’m so sorry.”

“What, for killing me? You weren’t yourself.”

“I was. That’s the problem.”

Balthazar just shook his head. “It’s going to take more than a stab in the back to get rid of me. You do know that, right?”

“If we weren’t already dead I’d offer you my blade to kill me. I deserve nothing more.”

“Castiel.” Cas forced himself to meet Balthazar’s eyes directly. “I know you, and so I forgive you. As I’ve told you before- nothing’s changed.”

Cas smiled bitterly. “Except me.”

“What happened to you?” Balthazar’s fingers traced the air where Castiel’s wings lay mangled and twisted in another dimension. “You look like you’ve been clawed apart by feral house cats.”

“I destroyed everything, Balthazar. So many times.” And he felt like he was being crushed under the weight of all his mistakes. Perhaps this was the torture the Empty preferred for him- giving him back a lost friend, giving him forgiveness- and then ripping it away again. Surely even someone as loyal as Balthazar wouldn’t want to associate with him after learning of the things he’d done.

“You, Cassie? I’ve only ever known you to do what’s right.”

“How can you say that when you saw me make one of my biggest mistakes? When I killed you because of it?”

Balthazar scoffed. “Mistake? Cas, you were trying to stop our control freak of an older brother from letting the other ones out to destroy the world. What about that is a mistake? Sure, Crowley was a bit of a snake, but come on. It can’t have been so long that you’ve forgotten your good intentions.”

Cas didn’t say a word, and Balthazar narrowed his eyes. “How long has it been, Cas?”

Cas sighed. “Nine years.”

“Nine years.” Balthazar’s eyebrows had shot all the way up. “Wow. Not long at all. So what could… no. Tell me you weren’t.”

Castiel frowned. “Weren’t what?”

“Weren’t still kissing the Winchesters’ asses for the whole nine years.”

“They’re my friends, Balthazar.”

“Oh, really?” Balthazar crossed his arms. “If they’re your friends, why did they treat you like one of the guns they keep in the trunk of their wretched car?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it, Cas?” Balthazar sighed, backing down a little. Nine years of death wouldn’t stop them from bickering, it seemed, though he did put a hand on Cas’ shoulder. An uncharacteristic attempt to show solidarity through the sarcasm.

“Look,” Balthazar continued. “What you do is your business, but… just tell me there was something good in those years. That it wasn’t just you running around trying to prove yourself to them.”

There was something, in fact, something he’d never expected. Something beautiful.

“I had a son,” he admitted. He’d often wondered what Jack would be like meeting angels that weren’t hell-bent on killing him. He’d imagined Jack meeting Balthazar, or Hannah, or Rachel or Samandriel, but it would never come to fruition. The best he would get was telling them about him, assuming he would be able to escape being choked and stretched and drowned by the depths of the Empty for all eternity.

“Why, Cassie, I’m impressed,” Balthazar said wryly. Oh no. Before Cas could interject and explain, Balthazar continued. “Looks like you really did get that stick out of your ass. And you put it right up-”

“Balthazar! He’s not mine, not like that. He chose me, and his mother was a friend. That’s all.”

Balthazar seemed to enjoy how flustered he was, but his tone was serious. “You adopted a human child?”

“No, he’s a nephilim.”

“Ah,” Balthazar said. “So they changed the rules regarding them in the past nine years, then?”

“No,” Cas said again, getting frustrated. He’d forgotten how much Balthazar loved to hear himself speak. Even if he had missed it, it was still mildly insufferable.

“Well, you rebel Cas, you. But, ah- who was the sire?”

Cas winced. “Lucifer.”

“Oh, my. That is unfortunate.”

“Yeah. Jack’s nothing like him, though. He’s… he’s very much like his mother. And I like to think he’s a little bit like me, too.”

Balthazar looked at him, somehow still reading him like a book after all this time.

“You spoil the poor child, don’t you?”

“I most certainly do not,” Cas huffed.

“Oh, yes you do. You’ve always been soft, but now you’re practically a down pillow.”

Cas’ smile was sadder, again. “I told you I’ve changed.”

“Maybe so. But we haven’t.”

“Thank you.”

Balthazar smiled. “I do have one question though, Cas.”

“Of course.”

“How did you die?”

Well. He supposed it would have had to be asked eventually. Unfortunately his hesitation gave Balthazar another opportunity to talk over him.

“Please don’t tell me it was for the Winchesters.”

“I love them.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. And unfortunately I love that about you. Well, go on. Tell me a story.”

Cas shrugged. “I made a deal with the Empty. My life for Jack’s, which- it wasn’t even a question. It said that when I was finally happy, it would take me.”

Balthazar frowned. “What did you in?”

“You know, I’m not really sure. But I managed to save Dean, and that’s all that matters.”

“Oh, Cas,” Balthazar muttered, sounding deeply sad. “Well, at least you were clearly a better father than our dear old absent God. That much is clear.”

Cas’ heart sank. He couldn’t not tell him, though he didn’t necessarily want to break the news.

“Balthazar.”

“What?”

“Um. A lot has happened since I’ve last seen you, and there’s a lot you need to know, but God- God was never on our side.”

--------

They walked aimlessly through the Empty, keeping aware for signs of their siblings or the Shadow, but oddly finding none.

“Well then,” Balthazar said, flippant as ever. Cas was nearly sure he was deflecting.

“That’s all you have to say? You’re not angry?”

“Nope.” Forced cheerfulness. “Never liked him anyway. Frankly, I’m surprised you even met the man.”

Cas paused and stopped moving, feeling something tugging at his grace.

“Cas, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” Balthazar had stopped too, hovering closer.

A pocket of the nothingness in front of them seemed to pull itself inward, caving in like a black hole and then cracking open just a bit. Was this what it looked like when someone died and came to the Empty?

Hopefully not, because the distortion cleared and Jack was standing there. And it was painfully, obviously Jack, clearly indicated by everything from his posture to the grace Cas could feel reaching for his own.

Balthazar stiffened, preparing for a fight, but the minute Jack caught sight of Castiel the angel found himself with an armful of nephilim. He held on tight, feeling Jack trembling slightly.

Having connected the dots, Balthazar caught his eye over Jack’s shoulder and mouthed “down pillow.” Cas shook his head slightly, but turned his attention back to his son.

“Jack? Are you-”

“I’m getting you out, Cas,” Jack said, pulling back. “We’re both getting out of here.”

Balthazar’s stricken expression tugged at Cas’ heart.

“Just me?” Cas asked.

Jack’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“The other angels are awake, Jack. Can you…”

“I… maybe. But, Cas, I don’t… I don’t know them. Why…”

“It’s alright if you can’t,” Cas assured. “But if we can help them somehow, be that bringing them back or putting them to sleep… I need to try to make things right.”

Jack nodded. “I’ll try to help.”

Cas smiled at him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “Thank you. And thank you for coming to get me.”

“Of course. I missed you,” Jack said, eyes wide. Cas felt something else inside him twisting.

Balthazar cleared his throat, and Cas gently turned Jack around to face the third member of their party.

“Jack, this is Balthazar. He’s a good friend.”

Jack and Balthazar looked at each other, Jack frowning and Balthazar smirking in a horribly misguided attempt to be friendly. The silence stretched on, utterly deafening. Jack broke it first.

“I… I met an alternate universe version of you that was not very nice.”

Balthazar didn’t miss a beat.

“Well, you know what they say. Don’t judge an angel by their alternate universe counterparts, right?”

That got a bit of a smile out of Jack, though he was still wary. Cas couldn’t blame him, so he kept in contact to keep him at ease.

“We need to find the Shadow. Make an arrangement so that we can take a few angels with us and the Empty goes back to peace and quiet,” Jack said. The self-assuredness was clearly a front, but somehow Cas felt as if he’d have time to help Jack through it.

“Okay,” he said, nodding at Jack. Jack nodded back, and the three of them started walking. Into what, they didn’t know.

But Castiel had the strangest feeling that it was all going to turn out alright.

#castiel #balthazar #spn #asks #prompts #napsterofficial #winchester critical #<bc of balthazar lmao #other prompts I am getting to y’all soon I promise!!#kitkat writes

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wwwafflewrites · 4 years

Text

Without a Shadow of a Doubt

You had always known about monsters.

You had an anti-possession tattoo just above your breast, hidden by sweaters. You saved little salt packets from restaurants, and as small as they were, they would probably save your life one day. You had a silver jackknife on your keychain, and you always blessed the water in your water bottle.

You had also always known about hunters.

But those two came hand in hand.

As much as you acted like a hunter, you were not one. In fact, you had always been told to avoid hunters. Not because they were bad—the world certainly needed them—but because they were dangerous.

It was just as your parents had always warned you. Hunters drank, stank, and spat. They had blood stains on their jeans. They started fights at bars, and they generally didn’t have a care in the world. Those kind of people were dangerous, in that way. When one has nothing to lose, you generally lose your morals.

And the Winchesters, by God, if you ever see one, go in the other direction before they caught your scent. They were large, burly men who’d literally been to Hell and back, had seen the Devil himself, and started the apocalypse. It didn’t matter if they solved their messes; there was always another to follow.

So when you filled your gas up next to the 1967 Chevy Impala, you were admittedly nervous. The infamous Winchesters were literally a pump away.

Of course, Sam Winchester caught you staring. The Sam Winchester. Lucifer’s vessel himself. And you really really really really really felt like dodging out of there and running, but, frick, you couldn’t leave before you paid. And yes, you held integrity above your life. Your honesty was what little dignity you had left, so sue you.

Actually, please don’t. Your bank account wasn’t ready for that, being a college student with debt and all.

So, mustering up every ounce of courage you had in you, you marched past their pump and toward the station, one hand ready on your silver jackknife. If it came down to it, you could fight them. And if any luck was on your side today, you could escape with wounds that weren’t fatal.

A shudder ran down your spine, and you knew they were watching you. So you threw open the door, and sped in.

From the windows you saw a far away figure of Sam Winchester, six feet of scars and muscle, walking his way toward the storefront with a suspicious look in his eyes.

They had no reason to kill you, but you were freaking out anyway. What the hell am I doing, what the hell, what the hell, what the hell…

You managed to offer the employee a grimace. “Pump eight, please.” He was frustrating, and way too slow, but it wasn’t his fault. You ripped the receipt from his hands and swore under your breath in a panicked tone, eyeing the bathrooms.

As the door opened and Winchester stepped into the gas station, you dashed for the bathrooms, slamming the door behind you. There was no way to lock the actual bathroom door itself, but you chose a stall to hide in, lifting your feet.

There were several, long, awkward minutes of just you sitting uncomfortably, feeling like an idiot and a coward. You expelled ragged breaths, like you had run a mile. Muttering curses and prayers, you wondered what he was doing.

Usually you weren’t so shaken up about hunters. They made you uncomfortable and uneasy, but you could handle them. They were just people. Drunk, careless, violent people. But you had just attracted the attention of the Winchesters, who were known for their ruthlessness and unpredictable behaviors.

And frick if that didn’t terrify you. You’d heard the stories. You’d seen the news, the kidnappings. They were America’s most wanted, and regardless if it was all a misunderstanding, you did not want to be associated with them.

The restroom door creaked open and you froze. You held your breath, listening. Your eyes were wide.

You could see shoes. Shoes of a man. And from your guess, they were Sam Winchester’s.

You adjusted your crouch and slipped. The toilet seat was smooth and there wasn’t enough friction to hold you, so your feet slammed forward into the stall wall, your back sliding down, and you scrambled to catch yourself. You looked up in horror.

Sam Winchester opened the stall.

He wasn’t exactly what you expected. His eyes were soft, for one thing. And although he was undoubtedly strong and deadly, he seemed to hunch down for your sake. Make himself smaller. He still had a gun in his hand, but he didn’t seem trigger happy, so that was going for you.

Despite this, you had your knife pointed at him. Your knuckles were white around the blade, and your wrist shook. It wasn’t nearly as threatening as you had imagined it to be, like waving a stick at a grizzly bear.

Sam seemed very underwhelmed.

“You’re… not really like the stories,” you said.

Sam eyed your shaky hand that held the knife, and minded your personal space. “What kind of stories have you heard?”

You sized him up, squinting. “Let’s say I’ve heard a good variety. The news says a lot about you.”

He almost looked shy, offering a kind smile. “Not everything you hear is true, you know.” He watched your knife again, thoughtful. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

As much as you didn’t want to… you believed him. You tucked the jackknife back into itself, but didn’t put it away. “You do this often? Walk into the women’s restroom?”

His cheeks blushed and he stepped back a bit, still holding onto the stall door. He looked flustered. “Um, no. That’s more Dean’s thing. I just… you were staring at us.”

You fidgeted. “Yeah, so?”

“So… we got suspicious. It’s kinda in the job description for…” He trailed off, realizing you were a civilian.

“For being a hunter?” You raised your eyebrows. “Yeah, I know what you are.”

Relief came over his face. “Usually the one’s that stare are… well they’re the one’s afraid of being seen. And I mean, you were, but for a different reason than we thought,” he rambled. “Sorry, if I scared you."

There was a pause. You just looked at each other, Sam leaning against the stall, and you on the traitorous toilet.

He extended a hand, and you took it, standing.

He hesitated. "Uh… so do you want to cover my back as I walk out of this restroom or are you going to make me look like a pervert?”

You stared at him. “Probably too late for that.”

“Yeah, maybe. Are you comfortable covering as a friend? Honestly, if you’re not, that’s fine. I can take a few disgusted glances. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

You suddenly felt awful and guilty. Your judgement of the Winchesters was based upon rumors and ghost stories. Honestly, how could anyone see this dork as anything but a gentle giant? Well, okay, that was a stretch, but still.

This man did have scars, and he probably drank, too. He certainly had blood stains on his jeans. He had probably started bar fights. But he did have something to lose: his brother. And somehow, his morals seemed to be set straight.

So this was the least you could do. “Yeah, that's… yeah, I can do that.”

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “You’re sure? Seriously, I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring y—”

“Shut up, will you? You’re making me feel worse the more you say.”

His look of bafflement had you rolling your eyes. “You’re a nice guy, okay? I can tell that. I psyched myself out earlier and told myself you were evil or something. But now I can see that you’re just a freaking puppy in jeans and flannel, and I’m a stupid idiot.” You took a breath, giving him a halfhearted stink eye. “So you’re going to link your goddamn arms with me and I’m going to pretend I’m sick. You ready?”

“Yeah.”

And you were too. Without a shadow of a doubt.

#sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester #sam x reader #sam x you #x reader #reader insert #reader #spn #spn fanfiction #spn reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #fanfic #fanfiction

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almaasi · 7 years

Text

reaction post typed while watching SPN 12x12 “Stuck In The Middle (With You)”

well THIS is some delightfully interesting bullshit right here

06:43

frankly i am not ready and i don’t think i will ever be ready

i saw some shit on instagram and i went from being “scared but interested” to HYPED and now i’m scared again

i just want cas to come out of this okay

like that’s what i’m here for, just cas being alive and loved (by dean. but also sam and mary)

06:48

*DEEP BREATHS*

06:50

mr ketch is definitely cute, in a murderous stephen fry kind of way

06:52

cas: “cheese isn’t a carbohydrate”

i guess cas read up on the ketchup vs vegetables debate

give me a nutritionist!cas au stat

06:54

cas: “sunrise special please”

CAS IS SUNSHINE

also flustered under mandy’s attention BECAUSE HE ALREADY HAS A BOYFRIEND

RIGHT

RIGHT???

06:55

guess sam’s magic wifi hair doesn’t work any more

06:56

what i have learned here is that dean is turned on by the smell of food

give me cas bathing himself in strawberry syrup before bed

06:57

obviously there’s something else going on but right now it kind of looks like mary’s uncomfortable with either a) using mandy as part of a plan, or b) dean instructing his boyfriend to go flirt with someone else

edit: probably more like uncomfortable that they’re trying to make cas flirt and not focusing on the issue at hand

06:59

CAS SNIFFING PEOPLE

OH GOD CAS YOU’RE SO INAPPROPRIATE AND SO UNAWARE OF IT

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

sidenote, cas was the only one who didn’t get screentime when mary asked if everyone understood the plan

07:01

DEAN: “MY SHY BUT DEVASTATINGLY HANDSOME FRIEND”

OKAY THAT’S CANON

GUYS THAT JUST HAPPENED DEAN JUST DESCRIBED CAS AS DEVASTATINGLY HANDSOME

CONTEXT DOESN’T MATTER BECAUSE THOSE WORDS CAME OUT OF DEAN’S MOUTH

07:03

dean: “when do you get off?”

mandy: “whenever i can”

woooowwwww go mandy

also i’m so concerned for cas right now DID HE CONSENT TO BEING USED AS A HONEY TRAP I DON’T THINK SO

HE HASN’T SAID A WORD ON THIS

edit: mandy wasn’t even part of the plan ?? i’m ????

07:05

DID I JUST SEE A BLACK GUY DIE FIRST

///SQUINTS REALLY HARD

07:06

and then a white guy BUT THEN THE (asian? native american?) LADY

AAAND WE’RE BACK TO ZERO REPRESENTATION

WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

ARE THEY ACTUALLY KIDDING LIKE

DO THEY EVEN SEE THE ISSUE

DOES ANYONE MAKING THIS SHOW EVEN REALISE WHAT THEY’RE DOING

fuck

y’know i’m just gonna have to let this go right now because i can’t even comprehend how ferociously problematic this show is

i just wanna enjoy it for my fave characters and i can’t do that unless i bundle the problems into a box and forget about them for now

07:09

still thinking about it though

this is trump’s america, where problematic bad things happen so often and with zero time to process that you just get to the point where it’s like “oh great another social apocalypse, must be thursday”

07:12

“the wounded angel” // “earlier”

i feel like i’ve watched a movie like this (certainly a lot of tv show episodes clearly all based on the same source material)

pulp fiction or something idk

something bizarre and character-action-driven that doesn’t make a lot of sense until the end

07:14

AW MAN THAT SLOW MOTION WALKING SHOT IS GONNA MAKE A REALLY GOOD GIF

THANK YOU GABRIEL RICHARD SPEIGHT JR

07:20

IS THAT YELLOW EYES

WHAT

WHAT WHAT WHAT

07:21

nOOOOOO CAS

NOBODY HARPOONS MY BABY AND LIVES

except dean, who stabbed him first, married him later

07:21

YYYEEEEEEE MARY SAVING CAS WITH THE CAR

07:23

and while mary and sam are talking about yellow-eyes, dean is smothering cas in kisses and magic healing tears, yes? yes

07:26

WOW WAS THAT FLIRTY LOOK DEAN GAVE DIRECTED AT CAS

I THINK SO

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE THO

07:26

i watched that bit again I THINK DEAN WAS SIGNALLING TO CAS THAT MANDY’S RESPONSE WAS A POSITIVE THING

aaaah the people who subtly and automatically support autistic friends are the best

also why is dean so determined to get cas to like other people?? CAN’T YOU JUST ACCEPT THAT CAS IS ALL YOURS AND WILL FOREVER BE YOURS