#SOMETHING ABOUT CASTIEL FALLING SO FAR FROM GRACE FOR A MAN WHO COULD SO EASILY SNAP HIS CELESTIAL BEING IN HALF WITH HIS OWN WEAPON | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dothwrites · 4 years

Note

161 please??

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google doth always taking prompts

161--Where did that cat come from?

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The rainstorm starts when Dean pulls into the space outside the bunker’s door. It’ll be a pain in the ass to reverse and pull into the garage, plus he and Sam have a trunk full of groceries, so Dean just curses and puts the Impala into park before he gets out of the car. Water droplets start to pelt against the top of his head and the back of his neck as he loads as many bags on his wrists and arms as humanly possible.

From there, it’s a quick trip down the bunker stairs. Sam follows behind, with a more modest amount of bags swinging from his hands. Dean walks quickly, cognizant of his struggling circulation, not to mention the unpleasant wind of a single bead of water down his spine. Their steps echo down the bunker stairs, which would alert Cas to their presence, even if the “Cas, we’re home!” didn’t.

“Shut up,” Dean automatically says when he hears Sam’s poorly repressed snigger.

“Needy much?” Sam does a faulty reproduction of Dean’s voice, making sure to give him a falsetto. “Cas, we’re home!” He continues to snicker as they make their way to the kitchen. “You’re about one step away from Lucy.”

“Ok, first of all, it was Ricky Ricardo who said those lines and secondly--shut up.” Ok, so not the best comeback. Blame the rain and his screaming wrists and arms. Dean flushes and turns away from Sam as he lifts the groceries onto the counter with a quiet grunt.

“Nice job, He-Man. Maybe next time you could try multiple trips?”

“Go out? More than once? For groceries? Sam, it’s like you don’t even know me.” Dean starts unpacking the bags, pausing when he reaches a certain jar. “Cas! We’re in the kitchen!”

On the opposite side of the kitchen, Sam starts to hum something that sounds like needy baby needy baby. Dean debates throwing a can of green beans at the back of his shaggy moose head. He settles for lobbing a poisonous glare at Sam’s head and not letting up until his brother turns around.

“Hey, he dipped out on grocery shopping. The least he could do is come and help put the stuff away.” Plus Dean bought a jar of the good stuff for Cas, organic, comb in honey. It cost him an arm and a leg, but it’ll be worth it once he sees the pleased, shy smile spread across Cas’ face, which he can’t see until his boyfriend makes his way to the kitchen.

Sam must catch sight of the honey because he lets out a very unflattering snort. Dean defensively scoops the honey out of sight. “It’s good for the environment,” he defends, despite the fact that he’s never recycled a day in his life.

“Sure.” Sam really shouldn’t sound so smug, Mr. I Drink Kale Smoothies and Poop Compost. “Look, all I’m saying is that if my boyfriend had me that whipped, then I would at least own it.”

“Your boyfriend would run away from your ugly face,” Dean snidely digs. Far from dissolving into a snotty mess, Sam just makes a very rude gesture involving use of a singular finger, and turns around to continue stocking the freezer with pizza rolls.

The first sign of trouble is a singular sneeze. Dean shakes it off--it was raining outside, pollen is in the air, and the bunker that they live in was made by a bunch of old, dead guys, so there’s bound to be some dust.

The second, third, and fourth sneezes come as more of a puzzle.

Sam, ever the solicitous brother, raises an eyebrow. “You dying or what?” he asks.

“Or what,” Dean wheezes, though his eyes are watery and itchy. A rattle starts in his throat as another sneeze rocks through his body. This is not normal. In fact, he only gets like this when...

Cas walks into the kitchen, wearing jeans and one of Dean’s hoodies that’s just a bit too big for him in the arms (though it stretches delightfully across his chest and shoulders). As soon as he crosses the threshold of the kitchen, as if on command, Dean sneezes.

Through watery eyes, Dean squints at the suspicious bulge in the front of the hoodie pocket. Castiel casually shifts to the side to hide it, but it’s too late. Dean just saw something move. Cas might be happy to see him, but he’s nowhere near that happy.

“Whatcha got there Cas?” He tries to make it clear from his tone that his question is not a polite request.

It’s not every day that Dean gets to see a former angel of the Lord acting shifty, but that’s exactly what he gets to see as Cas tries to sidle his way out of the kitchen. “Cas,” Dean barks. Cas shuffles his feet as he plasters a very unconvincing look of innocence on his face. “What’s in your pocket?”

His facade of hardass suffers from the sneeze that rockets through his body, but it’s enough. Cas walks into the kitchen. Sam, intrigued by the drama, draws closer, but Dean’s eyes are focused on Cas’ hand as it dips into the hoodie pocket.

Castiel withdraws his hand, holding his burden out for inspection. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees Sam’s mouth drop open in a paroxysm of delight (fucking softie). For his part, Dean greets the reveal with three consecutive sneezes, each one more violent than the last.

“Cas,” Dean finally says, sniffling around his words, “where did that cat come from?”

The cat in question can’t be much more than a kitten. It sits easily in Cas’ large hand. Luminous green eyes blink up slowly at him through a haze of black fur. As Dean watches, the kitten opens its mouth, revealing tiny sharp teeth and a pink tongue. A soft mew fills the space.

Dean answers it with a sniffle.

“I was out in the garden earlier today,” Cas begins. He doesn’t even have the good grace to look guilty as he pulls the kitten in close to his chest. Dean winces (that’s a hell of a lot of dander and fur that’s winding up on an article of clothing that still technically belongs to him) before he outright flinches as the kitten digs its claws into the fabric. Say goodbye to that particular hoodie.

“It was just starting to rain and I found her.” Cas looks at him, all huge blue eyes and plaintive voice. “She was cold and shivering. I don’t think that she’d eaten for several days.”

Great. Just great. Dean can already see where this is going and exactly what parts they’re all going to fall into. Cas, the crusader for justice and kindness, Sam, the well-intentioned supporter, and Dean, the cruel hand of logic.

“Well, feed her, and then after the rain finishes we can take her to the shelter.”

Next to him, Sam gasps. Cas’ mouth turns down in a stubborn frown.

“Dean, the shelter is a kill shelter.” Sam’s voice sounds as scandalized as though Dean had suggested that they carpet bomb the whole town.

“It’s a kitten. It’s cute. It’ll get adopted in like three seconds. I mean, it’s already got the two of you wrapped around its little dagger claws.”

There’s something embarrassing about the soppy eyes that both Sam and Cas shoot towards the kitten. No angel should look that sickly sweet.

“Dean, cats are fairly low maintenance,” Cas begins, which is exactly where Dean thought this talk was headed.

“I have allergies!” Dean protests, to be met with unsympathetic looks from both his brother and his boyfriend. Traitors. “Plus, who’s going to take care of it when we go on hunts? We going to pay the neighbors to come over into our super secret bunker filled with satanic stuff?”

Cas’ mouth flattens. “There are several establishments in town which cater to the boarding of pets.” Great. He’s already done research. “Also, many stores offer over the counter products designed to alleviate the symptoms of allergies.”

Between Sam’s puppy eyes and Cas’ jutting lower lip, Dean feels his defenses wavering. “You’d better keep it away from my room. And if it starts pissing on the floors or tearing up the furniture, it’s out of here. And you’re,” he points to both Sam and Cas, “going to pay for my allergy meds. And you’re going to feed it and pay for all its stuff.” He’s never felt more like a dad than in that moment, lecturing his brother and boyfriend on the proper care of the cat. “This is your pet; I’m not going to take care of it!”

Cas nods earnestly before he walks across the kitchen and kisses the bolt of his jaw, right in the sweet spot that always turns Dean weak in the knees. Bastard knows exactly how to play him. Dean turns his head to kiss Cas properly, ignoring Sam’s gagging noises in the background. Cas hums into the kiss, his teeth ghosting over Dean’s lower lip in a hint of a tease.

Dean’s just ready to make it a proper kiss, Sam be damned, when he’s stabbed. Yelping in pain, he jumps backward, glaring at the tiny, cockblocking, ball of fluff still held in Cas’ hands. The kitten retracts the minuscule knives attached to its paws as it blinks innocently up at him.

“Oh, I think you must have squashed her,” Cas says, rubbing a finger underneath the kitten’s chin.

For its part, the kitten yawns at Dean before falling asleep.

“Yeah,” Dean mutters, massaging at his wound (seriously, he’s bleeding and Sam is just laughing at him like an asshole). “Yeah, this is going to turn out swell.

(It comes to no one’s surprise, least of all Dean’s, when he goes to bed and finds not only Castiel, but the kitten curled up on his mattress. I said she’s not allowed on the bed, Dean tries, but the protest is weak at best, especially when Cas has decided to play dirty and is lying bare-chested with the sheet artfully draped over his waist.

Well, I could take her back to my room, Cas murmurs, scooping up the kitten, and Dean’s going hellishly soft in his old age because he just says Over my dead body, before crawling over the mattress to where Cas waits. The kitten finds her way to the floor.

In the morning, Dean wakes up with his nose running and his eyes gummy, due to the fucking cat who has decided to sleep less than a foot away from his face. The heated kiss that Cas gives him when he wakes up only partially helps to stop his bitching.)

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #domestic fic #fluff #cas with a cat #grumpy dean #super unhelpful sam #dothwrites

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spnsmile · 4 years

Text

Final Monday: Profound Bond

for #SPNstayAtHome Challenge by @helianthus21 @bend-me-shape-me @pray4jensen ❤ with beautiful art from @verobatto-angelxhunter here! ❤

When almost everyone—demons included— all but told Dean that his angel is the hottest, most devastatingly handsome angel in the face of the seven seas, he not only believed them, but he’s secretly and most exclusively Cas’ number one fan.

Cas is really the looker and even without all the buzzing acclaims from hell and earth, Dean’s already smitten from the start. Cas’ vessel is naturally attractive and really stands out with that crazy dominant eyebrow, lightning in a bottle blue eyes, cutting jaws and regal high-cheek bones— but more than the vessel, it’s the insane hot angel beneath trench coat that makes his insides swoon.

Dean can’t explain it—every time Castiel just goes all out wrecking doors, walls, even smashing on cars and smite a whole pack of demons and monsters alike in a blink of an eye— now that—that is really hot!

So he doesn’t blame them from noticing his strapping companion, he actually isn’t that surprised when someone approaches them one day to scout Cas to be a model while they are in a middle of a Djinn case.

“Dean is my model,” replies the angel with that dorky side tilt, getting Dean’s stomach to flutter.

“No, Cas he meant uh, you know… they wanna take pictures of you, you posting like Mr. Calendar,”

“Why?” Cas says sharply.

Dean tries his best to explain but at the end of the day, and because they still need to monitor the case on a closer level, they agreed with talent scout to have a screen testing the next day. Dean was also asked but he politely declined. The worse thing he can land himself in as a hunter is to be under the public scrutiny who will follow his every movement.

Cas on the other hand has a lesser risk because Cas doesn’t care. The angel is an enigma and can get himself out of situations with one flap of his wings.

So here they are, just another day with another case inside a studio with Dean trying to focus his attention to any supernatural occurrence around, but really the only supernatural thing happening at the moment will be Castiel half-naked in a setup of white clouds and overcast skies for of a Bruce Almighty segment.

And Cas’ theme?

Angels.

Dean still can’t stop laughing at the irony and kept the hilarity of knowing how no one is capable of cracking any expression from the angel’s stony face.

It was all fun at first when Castiel was dragged away and Dean was hollering when he spoke to Sam over the phone about the developments of the Djinn case preying on dreamers in the modelling agency that has killed two victims so far. He waited for Cas to come out imagining the long white toga the angel would be wearing like one of those pictures of angels with harps. Cas hates those representations and Dean can’t wait to bawl his eyes out laughing.

Meanwhile, Dean smiles and winks at beautiful models passing by and to his credit, they all give him a disgusted look. Oh well. No one likes the police these days.

He was busy ogling at himself in one of those giant reflectors when Castiel’s team came out. Dean was ready to make fun of him imagining Cas finally in proper angel dress— only to get a slap in the face when he sees Castiel stripped off his trench coat and toga—but was wearing a blue tight jean showing a well-shaped round ass and loose white button-down shirt where the barest of holy skin is peeking.

[sexy Cas art here]

Dean gasps, electric shock hitting him straight to Manhattan because holy fuck this isn’t what he was expecting—what the hell happened to the angel theme?

It didn’t help that almost everyone has the same reaction and if the photographer wasn’t there barking his directions, Dean’s sure Castiel will be smothered to death.

“That magazine is going to be sold out.” Says one of the crew guys standing behind the lighting next to Dean, “I’ve never seen anyone so… cute and hot and…” a struggle for the right words then— “divine. How does he do that?”

“Exists?” Dean drawls with arms tightly crossed on his chest. The crew guy beside him snorts.

“He can easily get followers and we need models with huge fan base online, you know, free advertising.”

Dean half-rolled his eyes at the crew member mesmerized by the amateur model. Half an hour later, green eyes following Castiel’s every movement in the middle of a battlefield of flashing cameras and light reflectors, of smothering group of stylists with powders ready at hand and demanding photographers asking for a ridiculous mood board— and what’s with all those hands touching Castiel?

Dean can’t help feeling sour every time the assistant manager runs to Cas’ side just to dust his shoulder, open his collar more or when he simply tilts Castiel’s jaw the right way—Dean is livid—who touches his angel so casually with grubby hands!?

And he’s beyond control when he sees the man opening Castiel’s button-down wider like—just strip them out stop teasing! Dean finds himself shrinking to the wall while murmuring curses and snapping on the phone every time Sam calls. They have work to do and Sam’s been constantly asking for updates while he works the field over the victim’s family for any lead to follow and Dean only has eyes for his angel being instructed by the photographer. Cas was bewildered at first with all the goading and salacious comments, Dean cringing for his friend. Castiel looked miffed at some point, but Dean can’t go to his side yet. If he does, he might grab him and leave the premises and that’s not being professional.

They need to find the Djinn among these people soon.

Standing in the sideline watching his friend try different angle that surprisingly fits him— except the photographer is losing his patience with the dorky angel who doesn’t understand structure and context—

“This is like a dance, move those sexy hips, give me suave look, pout lips— that’s grumpy, baby—give me seduction—yes those blues, seduce me— seduce me, don’t murder me! That’s it, you got this sweetheart, make me melt with that look! Melt me—melt—where are you going—?”

“You said melt you—I” he raises a hand—

Dean nearly jumps from the wall to stop Cas smiting any hollering directors but then—

“Go back in position, sweetheart, don’t make me lose all my hair where you can’t see them—okay, look devious—devious—don’t frown— imagine a blade in your hand. Now that’s fantastic, a tilt of the head? Adorable, now quit that, we’re aiming for sex appeal! Now make me want to have you—pout those sexy lips—pout, pucker them—forward—no, don’t slump forward you’re not Quasimodo’

“I don’t understand that reference.”

“Give me passion—give me something you want so badly!”

Castiel glances at Dean.

“He’s not bad,” Dean grunts to himself as he meets the blue eyes. Castiel pulls back and stares up the sky. Dean doesn’t know what he sees there but the sigh that came out is drawn long.

When the photographer exhaustingly shouted five minutes break, Dean watches Cas get crowded by the stylists to one corner, hearing them praise the angel about not sweating and giving him googly eyes.

Dean leaves the room and heads straight to the vending machine stations. He was just about to push for a coke when two members of the crew stop beside him to use the next vending machine supplying chocolate bars. Dean would have ignored them except one of them says Cas’ fake agent name.

“Wright? Got everything wrong. Yeah, he got the face but he’s so stupid. Giovanni’s giving all the best instructions and the model just stands there like a wall. Doesn’t even bat an eyelid, he’s like a hammer, at least a hammer is lethal, that Wright guy doesn’t know any instructions.”

“You know what they say about pretty faces, they lack a brain.” says his companion. They snicker and press for chocolate bars.

Dean remains silent as two cokes slide down the port with clanking sounds. He bends to take them quietly.

“The bar is stuck,” says one of the crew members.

“Don’t add to my shit day, it’s a long day already with that useless model—” A loud crashing sound breaks in the corridor as Dean slams his fist on the metal side of the machine. The chocolate bars fall on the slot with the crew’s mouth hanging open.

“Your bars.” He says, walking away but not without leaving a huge dent on the corner of the machine. He hears the whispers after him, the comments about the public property but Dean doesn’t care. He could easily smash their faces but he’s not that violent.

He gotta get Cas out of there.

Speaking of the angel, Cas is immediately in his space the moment Dean returns in the studio.

“Dean,” he says in his usual gravely voice, “where did you go? Are you okay?”

“Hey, how’s the pretty model?” Dean dismisses him as he let his eyes roam the model’s gorgeous new look as he hands Cas his coke. “You don’t look bad, Cas, you’re killing it there.” Actually, killing them, he adds thoughtfully.

Castiel raises a hand to reach the refreshment, but he ends up pulling Dean’s other hand.

“Thank you, now why is your hand hurt?” blue eyes stare at him dead in the eyes. That kind that really goes straight to your soul.

Dean swallows hard. He can never understand why Castiel cares so much. He’s spent years without anyone watching his back and now he’s got his own angel. Dean really doesn’t know who to thank for that.

“Nothing,” Dean tries to pull his hand to no avail, “The vending machine was broken, had to get my money’s worth,”

“I don’t think that is a good displace of a public officer,” Castiel raises it closer to his lips and kisses the pain away.

“An angel would know, huh?” Dean sighs upon feeling Castiel’s grace smoothen the slight tingling pain and pulls his hand back once Castiel lets him. Castiel’s eyes are still intent on him.

“What’s the development with the Djinn?”

“Uh… yeah, Sam’s on it and since you’re playing the sexy bait—”

“I don’t think any Djinn would find me appealing,” Castiel confesses and it’s too adorable not to take the chance to tease so Dean grins.

“Oh, come on, who knows? You might marry one someday?”

“Angels don’t marry.”

“Sure, they don’t, they also don’t do modelling,”

“Well, I’m not attracting them right now as I am anyone in this place, I’m failing you, Dean, I’m sorry.”

“Are you kidding? You’re like hot captain garrison out there—very good mood play with the face, it’s so uh—angelically unreadable, and nice button toss,” Dean reaches a hand to Castiel’s collar and in swift movements, because his hands have been itching, he buttons it all the way up Castiel’s throat. “Let’s just not show too much when your off-duty.”

“Off-duty?”

“Off—like uh turn off the sense responsibility?”

“I see,” Castiel narrows his eyes. “The basic human response when feeling lethargic. Indifference to things that do not directly harm them. I am not that. I am feeling quite fit, in fact, even when my thighs can’t freely move from this… suffocating jeans,”

They both look down the angel’s thighs and Dean licks his lips. When opportunity just presents itself, who is he to deny himself the pleasure? But then—

“It’s impossible to get in that dress alone—Cas did they—?”

“I ripped two pairs,” Castiel says quietly. Dean stops, eyes wide.

“W-what?”

“I tried putting them on my own, they won’t fit. I tore them to shreds whenever I pull it up, so they had to help me,”

Dean makes a face, “Yep, dorky Hercules,”

“I don’t understand that reference.”

“Sam ripped his jeans once too,” Dean smiles from ear to ear, “We were digging and he’s so tall and his jeans are frigging tight and he bents down and—" he makes a tearing sound which makes Castiel slowly smile.

“That I understand.”

Dean laughs.

“You do. Look, Cas, I know the photographer’s being a hard dick on you…but it’s not your fault you can’t understand the references because we’re the ones not adjusting to you… now look here, buddy… you can’t trick a fish to climb a tree so it’s okay to just be you…um… you get what I mean?”

Castiel is still smiling softly. “I understand you are trying to comfort me,”

Dean shrugs. “Is it working?”

Castiel tips his head, “Have you been a model, Dean?”

“I’ve been everywhere,” Dean tells him mysteriously and gives his friend a pat on the shoulders, “So later you’ll go get em, little tiger,”

Castiel nods

“Excuse me, Mr Wright?” they both turn to a young lady in a black crew shirt with a clipboard is standing behind the angel. “We need to set up your wings for the next op,”

“Set up my wings?” Castiel quickly turns at Dean and if that doesn’t get the hunter to act quickly, nothing will. He immediately holds Castiel’s shoulder and tightened his grip so his friend doesn’t interrupt.

“Where is it? I’m going to help him,”

“There’s really no need, we have plenty of staff—"

“I insist,” Dean gives her his most brilliant flashing smile and she quickly points the direction of the props room. Dean drags Castiel there.

Dean picks up a fake white wing with wires and holsters and shows it to Cas who easily frowns who presses it back to Dean’s hands.

“I have wings,”

“Yeah, not like you can let people see the shadow flip-flap thing, okay?”

“Flip flap thing?” Castiel repeats uncertainly, eyebrows raising. Dean shrugs.

“You know, making your ginormous shadow show in the flashing lights—you can’t do that. They want a model and yeah, they need to do marketing, but not that kind. No flip-flap of wings,” Dean throws the wings back at the table.

“I will use my wings I just have to contain my power so it doesn’t break into its real form.”

“You can do that?”

“I can do anything.” Castiel’s eyes suddenly glow without warning and Dean steps back as Castiel raises his magnificent wings with the cracking sparks of fluorescent lamp and there is Castiel, the angel of the lord, in all his glory and dorkiness included max out—Dean’s eyes reflect and behold its beauty. Until the power steadily holds and shrinks down to a fitting one enough at least to make him fit a door.

The power in the air subsides and Dean realizes how he is holding his breath. The beauty of his friend did not strike him in its real essence until now—where Castiel is actually bare in front of him with his black wings’ appearance. He exhales and stands next to the angel where he can see his wings.

It strikes Dean yet again how Castiel is an angel. But every time he looks at his friend, in this form, in this vessel, he's just ultimately... Cas.

"That's fucking hot, Cas,"

Castiel smiles all gummily. "Thank you, Dean."

“Can mortal eyes see this now?”

“Yes,"

Dean whistles. Then there's that question that's been itching to be said, a question Dean knows won't leave him in peace if he doesn't ask now. Because it's now or never.

“Uh...Cas...can I touch it?”

Castiel's glance is an automatic sharp look that Dean can describe as a shock, but then the angel nods slightly without looking at him. He doesn’t reach. Something about Castiel’s reaction is bugging him.

“Are you sure I can?”

“Yes, please."

Dean takes him to his word and runs his fingers on the wings, his fingers sinking on the soft feathers like it’s made of cloud. Castiel trembles under his touch with a slight moan escaping his lips. Dean stares and sees the tip of Castiel’s ears are red.

"It's beautiful..." Dean licks his lips, "Cas... you... you're truly magnificent, have I told you that?"

"Not in so many words," Castiel doesn't look at him.

Dean just knows he is also having a mental breakdown.

“C-Cas?”

“It’s fine,” the angel whispers, head bent. “Just a little… it’s never been touched by human hands.”

Dean wavers on the spot and takes steps back in shock.

“Y-you mean—I’m the first one—I’m your first?!”

Castiel glances over his shoulder, his eyes leveled. He nods. "What's mine is yours, Dean. I'm yours."

Dean Winchester's head is a puddle melted and stirred by none other than the hottest angel in the garrison. He wants to tell Castiel never to say something like that- not when they are in a room alone because Dean is only a man- instead, he pulls Cas into a deep kiss. It's unexpected and truly catching them both in surprise, but when Castiel doesn't pull, Dean sighs and holds Castiel's shoulders steady. He doesn't know if he can tell Castiel that, but Cas is one of the best kissers he knows attributed to the pizzaman.

To Dean's delight, Castiel kisses him back. It's swift and lingering when Cas bites his bottom lip and runs their tongue together in a dance. He never thought he'd be kissing Cas like this. Then there's the noise Cas makes, especially when Dean runs his palms on the smooth surface of his chest. Dean pulls only to breathe because angels don't do that, the moment he does, Castiel is there capturing his mouth in another heated kiss and Dean drowns in him.

Castiel is absurdly hot. All the bumps and contours his palm lands into, Dean can't help getting electrified. He knows he is getting hard and there's only one thing left to do- he slips his right knee between Castiel's legs and grinds his steadily hardening groin on Castiel's thighs. The sensation is instantaneous and Castiel doesn't let up. The angel kisses him between the soft moan and sighs that all can Dean do is cling tight on the angel's hipbones. He wants to do many things to Cas aside from pressing hard on him with hands roaming all sacred places that make Cas catch his breath too. He wants to tell Cas to take them away but the thought of his brother facing a Djinn stops all his thoughts.

But he promises himself he will take this. He and Cas, later, tonight, they will have this.

Dean pulls back knowing anyone can come to get the model and when he did, Castiel flaps his wings demandingly, frowning at Dean's withdrawal. Dean doesn't know what to say to that so instead, he soothes the angel by running his hands on the smooth surface of the wings. He sees Castiel's eyes droop, sees the contortion of eyebrows leaving the heavenly forehead, knows that Cas is relaxing under his care. There's a long sigh when Dean is done and he stares at his shaking hands next.

“Dean, can you stay beside me,” Castiel says looking slightly put out and Dean quickly steps right into his space and stares Castiel in the eyes. Castiel doesn't even question the kiss. Dean thinks they still need to talk about it later. For now...

“What’s up?”

“I don’t want anyone else touching it,” Castiel says deadly serious. Dean is about to point to himself but the angel holds his gaze and adds, “Except you.”

Dean wants to hide his face somewhere.

“Dean, are you okay? Your face is red—Dean?” Dean turns away from the angel, body reaching boiling point if he thinks more about what else Castiel is allowing him to do when his phone rings. Still a little shaken, he answers softly only to be greeted by his impatient brother—

“Dammit, Dean! I’ve been trying to reach you for a full ten minutes! I got the Djinn in the warehouse—you may want to help me out! And stop making a pass at Cas! Now is not that time!”

So the kiss was only ten minutes?

“I’m not making a pass, give me the location, bitch,” Dean listens carefully and once he’s done, he turns to the angel apologetically. Castiel’s expression turns serious.

“I understand, we are here for a case, after all, I am sorry my job is in your way.”

Dean stares at him in awe.

“Cas, you’re not a real model, we’re ditching this job!”

There’s a beat.

“Oh.”

They were just about to leave the building when Castiel remembers to get his trench coat. Making a side trip back to the changing areas, Dean meets Sam halfway who informs him the Djinn has been taken care of no thanks to Dean daydreaming about his model boyfriend.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Anyway, where’s Cas?”

There’s a scream from the changing room.

The Winchesters exchanged glances and together they run inside to find Castiel standing in the middle of the room wings spread out and on his hands is the talent scout they’ve spoken to yesterday. Dean’s mind reels—is this another Djinn?

No, that’s human!

“Hey, Cas—no, no we don’t smite talent scouts!” Dean hurries beside the angel, firm grasp on his arm as he tugs it back, causing the talent scout to fall on the floor coughing. Sam is beside him at once while Dean deals with the hot-headed-angel. “Cas, what the hell!”

“He says he wants you,” Castiel growls back, pure anger hatred in his eyes.

“What?”

“He says he wants to take you and you have given me permission to defend myself

Dean throws the talent scout a dirty look. “What exactly did you say to him?

“I said I wanted to recruit you, okay?”

“Not your exact words,” Dean narrows his eyes. The talent scout grimaces.

“I said I want you, that’s it, is it hard to understand? I want him too,” the talent points at Sam while massaging his throat, “You brothers would make the best boxer models,”

Dean blinks at Sam who stares back in disgust.

“No, thanks,” his brother says, “not my dream come true.”

“Might be mine,” Dean turns to the agent, “Okay, dude, here’s the thing—we’re done being models and frankly, it’s not even the safest job. Now leave Cas alone too, he’s cut for it, but not for us...”

“What made you choose him anyway?” Sam wants to know. Dean throws his brother an incredulous look.

“The man was smiling like a real angel when I saw him, of course, I’d recruit him.”

And Dean looks back to when it was before the scout approached them, he and Castiel standing side by side and talking about the most mundane things Dean has done that day. It’s weird because not once has Castiel said about not understanding reference when the topic is about Dean.

Castiel gets him. Dean is his reference. It makes sense.

Sliding an arm around Castiel’s shoulder, he pulls him closer and smiles.

“Come on, Cas, time to go home.”

Castiel slowly looks at him, really looks deep inside his soul, and the angel smiles—and Dean’s glad he can crack that from such a handsome face.

“Yes, Dean.”❤

-end- ao3- ❤

Thank you for giving us this escape during quarantine! We enjoyed it! :)

#SPNStayAtHome #fluff #model cas #canon #Destiel #destiel oneshot #tooth rotting fluff #art prompt #final monday: Profound bond

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years

Text

Bait & Tackle, Castiel-centric, Dean/Cas fic, heavy angst, TW: suicidal thoughts, coda to 15x06 “Golden Time”

Cas had a friend who saw the meditative benefits to fishing. If only he agreed, and still could call Dean a friend. If only he could call Dean something more. Alas none of that was possible, so he sat on a dock every day with a fishing pole in hand. Hoping that he can finally catch his first fish.

But how long can you toss your line out and expect something to happen that never does? Doing it again and again can drive you to the breaking point.

What happens when you shatter?

Cas feels the sun set behind him, the pinkish hue of the sky bleeding through the blue. Stray beams filtered through blanketing clouds strike the strip of skin between his collar and hairline. He rubs at it, massaging at the ache that settled there earlier in the day. While annoying to deal with Cas chooses to wait the pain out. Careful not to expend any of his dwindling grace on something so simple. When finished, he returns his hand to the fishing pole resting on his lap.

“Getting late,” a man says from nearby, dragging Cas’s attention away from the lake. A common practitioner of the sport, Cas met him on his first day at the cabin. Spoke with him between long dry spells where nothing bit either of their lines. In his sixties, the man’s silver beard stretched far below his chest. Long hair swept neatly under his bucket hat. Usually he wore casual shirts with witty sayings, like today’s ‘Shove It Up Your Bass!’ For the unusual amount of time they spent in each other’s company, though, Cas never asked for his name. And the stranger paid Cas the same respectful indifference. “Fish’ll hardly be active now.”

Cas nods, “I might stay here a bit longer.”

“Of course,” he smiles, hitching his gear over his shoulder, “Nothing more peaceful than a body of water at twilight. I’ll leave you to it then. Same time tomorrow?”

“See you then.”

He left Cas, footsteps light on the pier until they disappeared into the ground. Now alone, Cas allowed himself the luxury of dulling his senses. Limiting his grace to only on what he could see and sense in his line of sight. Like putting blinders on a racehorse. Cas needs the extra effort, otherwise he will be returning to his cabin without catching anything.

Again.

If it takes all night Cas will stay rooted to the pier. If he needs to dive into the lake and catch one with his bare hands, he will. If Chuck appears with a fish in hand, offering it only if Cas prays, his knees will buckle without question.

Cas cannot screw this up.

One star sets and a million take its place, dotting the sky like freckles across soft skin. He clears his head of those thoughts, leaning forward in his seat. Tightens his grip on the fishing pole and quells the yawn bubbling in his chest before it can burst.

Fighting exhaustion is new territory, but Cas will not relent. Fishing a welcome alternative to the chaos of sleep. Where any possibility comes to life when he allows humanity to color his actions.

The first night in the cabin he fell asleep between infomercials. One moment learning about how easily knives can dull after constant use and the next staring into familiar green eyes, hard as the last time he saw them.

Their last encounter looped frequently in his mind, but given the wild ranges of sleep that memory grew and twisted into something unrecognizable. Dean’s face shifted into something crueler, and his sharp words were more precise. An intent to maim instead of wound driving his actions, carving into Cas like a frog in a science class. In those dreams Cas didn’t move on, unable to. Glued to the floor while Dean transformed into a hellhound and tore him limb from limb. The last thing he saw were those green eyes and then he woke up. Public access playing, showing a man and two women trying to cook something live.

Hours passed with a snarling Dean trapped in his mind, unable to forget. That dream haunted him most nights when the need for sleep overpowered him.

But it wasn’t the dream Cas feared.

Two nights ago Cas laid on the bed, eyes drifting shut. Preparing himself for the hellscape most likely greeting him.

His dream placed him in another area of the Bunker entirely. A familiar room, although he never spent too much time there. It wasn’t his . Except waking up on the bed, dressed in a black shirt and hot dog pajama pants that certainly weren’t normally part of his wardrobe, he never felt more right . Finding the other side empty, Cas shuffled from the room and followed the enticing smell of bacon drifting out the kitchen.

He froze under an entryway. Sam sat at the table across from Jack, discussing a section in the book while the younger boy happily ate his cereal. Mary carried a plate of bacon over to them, ruffling Sam’s hair while she took her seat.

And over by the stove, draped in his apron, stood Dean. The other man smiled at him like he used to, gaze soft in their adoration. Dean beckoned him closer, Cas unable to resist. Cas floated over and wraps his arms around the other man’s waist. Buried his nose into his collarbone and breathed him in deeply. Delighting in the mix of sweet from the laundry detergent and savory from the bacon that sticks to his skin. Kisses the skin there, lips curling hearing Dean’s laughter.

Learning it was a dream nearly broke Cas. He spent the entirety of that day holed in the cabin, wrapped in the blankets.

His hands tremble thinking about it. Cas steadies them, thinking of fish and nothing else. Fish to catch. To release. To cook or to display. To tell his friend when he sees him again. To do absolutely anything with.

Once he catches a fish than anything is possible.

At least two more hours pass with nothing biting. Cas, used to waiting, finds his patience thinning. He taps his foot rapidly against the deck. “Is it always like this?” he asks himself, mumble echoing across the placid lake, “Or is it me? Will I always be waiting for nothing ?”

Cas promised he would move on. It’s a poor show of it.

In fairness, Cas’s response served only to wound Dean as harsh as the other man did him. Given the space to breathe, however, Cas realized after all that talk he had nothing to show for it. Spent days driving across America, stopping only to refill his truck until he finally decided to pitch his flag down when he heard of a cabin for rent. A cabin with easy access to one of the most plentiful lakes in forty-eight states.

A claim Cas proves untrue with each passing day.

“One of the most relaxing things you can do,” he growls, stretching his legs until they threaten to slip off the dock. “Peaceful… clears your mind… I don’t know why I talked myself into doing this.”

Lies. Cas saw the lake and the dock and reflected on simpler times. When the world was only a man, an angel, and the scant inches between them.

Even when he moves on, he fails.

He frowns at the water, barely visible given his dwindling powers. It looks more like ink than the liquid mirror during daytime. Reminds him of another far off place, and the invitation of sleep beckons even louder.

Cas pinches his leg, stubborn until the end. Steels his nerves and brushes the sleep from his shoulders. “This is my mission,” he says, “All that matters is the fish… if I could catch one fish…”

The lake answers. Something tugs on his line, startling Cas. He stares at the pole while it bends towards the water. A beat passes before he realizes what that means. Cas jumps from his chair, knocking the cheap plastic to the ground and reels his line in. Struggles when the fish matches his strength. Abuses his limited supply of grace to overpower it.

Zip zip zip zip zip . His line drifts closer, and Cas feels his face stretch with the foreign appearance of a smile. With one last spin of the reel and a tug on the pole, Cas drags his hook from the water.

He sinks to his knees. His smile vanishes in the next instant, fading like it was never there. Cas snatches the hook and studies the small, metal curve. Aware that his bait is gone, and the fish escaped. Nothing like he pictured. Nothing like he was told would happen.

Nothing went right.

Could he really blame the fish for that?

Cas chuckles. A cruel, hollow sound that starts low in this chest before drifting higher. Amplifies when he throws his head back with wild abandon. Birds scatter nearby, their crows joining his crazed laughter. Soon it chokes off, melting into sobs. Raindrops stain his cheeks, only the clouds disappeared along with the sun.

He lets go of the pole, it rolling close enough to the edge to cause worry. Except it doesn’t fall in. Stays there to remind Cas how he failed at the simple task of catching a fish. How he failed to provide. How he failed his family, his love, and most importantly - himself .

His neck droops and Cas finds himself staring at the lake again. A voice whispers in his mind, tells himself how easy it would be to dive in and never leave. Surrounded by all that water, hidden at the bottom, no one would find him. That he probably has enough grace left in him to allow for a peaceful few years with all the fish he cannot catch. “There’s nothing for me here, anyway,” Cas says, hand slowly reaching for the edge.

It pauses. Cas’s grace ignites in his eyes, and he can clearly see for the first time.

A perfect reflection greets him, Cas gaping at his own face. His head tilts to the side while he studies it. Anger boils his stomach the longer he looks at himself and distorts his features. “You’re a failure,” he says, snarling at the water, “You can’t do anything right. You can’t catch a fish, can't protect your family, and you can’t keep the trust of the man you love. No matter what you do it’s never right, never good enough. You don’t belong anywhere you’re a… you’re a… a fish out of water -”

Cas quiets, clarity poking through the dense fog of hatred clouding his mind. He relaxes on his haunches, away from his reflection. Stunned by the overwhelming ridiculousness of the situation. How easily he let himself spiral because of one false catch.

Venom drips down the corners of his mouth while Cas calms himself. Each measured breath helps douse the vicious flame that threatened to burn him. In the ash, positive thoughts can re-grow.

“You are not a failure,” he starts, “you are allowed to fail, but that doesn’t make you a failure. Failing is a natural part of existence. The only true failure comes in giving up. If you give up, it means you’re letting those who wish to see you broken win. It tells them that you are powerless to stop them. But you’re not. As long as you’re there to greet the sun each day, you haven’t failed. They haven't won.”

“And the ones who have failed,” he stutters on this next bit, heart twisting in knots, “the ones who have failed you are those who aren’t able to provide you with what you need.” Cas glances at the water again, green dots peering up at him. “Who take but cannot give in return. Sometimes you cannot fix this and that’s okay. The actions of others are not your fault. In this world we only have true control over one thing… and that is ourselves.”

A Gas n Sip display held a collection of self-help CDs that Castiel blew all his cash on. Wore his speakers thin by playing them without pause. They helped provide a safety net in his darkest moments, little nuggets of wisdom like the mantras he repeated scattered throughout.

Cas picks up his pole and stands. Sunlight begins cresting over the trees, morning arriving without fanfare. “Y’know,” he says, “maybe it’s not me… or the fish. Maybe it’s something else.”

Folding his chair, Cas strolls back to his truck and places his gear inside. “It could be anything…”

He looks at the lake one more time, storm settling inside his chest. Cas leans against his truck bed, the tiniest of smiles reappearing on his face. “It’s not my fault.”

The sun fully rises and Cas leaves.

#supernatural #spn #spn15 #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #15x06 #golden time #castiel #dean winchester #destiel #deancas #castiel deserves better #deancas fanfic #destiel fanfic #tw: suicidal thoughts

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amwritingmeta · 4 years

Text

Perdition

The Stuff: canon compliant, pre-Lazarus Rising S4, Destiel, first meeting, first kiss, Castiel POV, Hell, that time when there was gripping and raising Warnings: torture, blood, Dean being violent (but it’s Hell so) Words: 3548

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There are barely any fires to heat the pit. They burn in some corners, but the embers aren’t enough to spread any light or heat. Hell is a cold, dark place. The air is dry, scentless, as barren of distinction and of actual life as the place itself. It’s enough to drive anyone mad. Half the screams are from souls not even in the throes of torture. They scream because they can’t remember who they were, or why they’re here. All they know is that they’re alone in a cell and no one will tell them why.

One by one they silence when the light of his grace chases away the surrounding darkness.

Their eyes widen with mute hope, their hands reach out, palms up, as if in quiet benediction, and one by one they fall to their knees.

It happens over and over.

They believe he’s their salvation, but he’s not come to save them. They’re all here for reasons he cannot govern or interfere with. His mission has to do with saving one soul, and no more.

He knows he’s closing in on it. He can sense it, like a breath ruffling the delicate feathers of his wings: the soul of the righteous man. Already broken, like the seal he represents, and further breaking himself against the pain and suffering he has endured.

Every gash and every wound the soul has had inflicted upon it, every injury it has itself inflicted after it was taken off the rack, have been felt by the host of angels ever since they entered this forsaken place, experienced like damning ripples of action and reaction. Despite it, they have known all is not lost if they can reach the soul, and salvage enough to at least bring something back with them.

And now he’s almost at the end of the journey.

For there, at the end of the corridor, sits a closed door.

“Castiel,” Benjamin says, and Castiel turns his head to his second in command, giving a nod as a signal for his kin to veer off.

Benjamin will bring the rest of their garrison with him to stave off any renewed attempts by Hell’s final defence to retaliate.

It doesn’t matter now. They’re much too late. The war is lost.

The sense of triumph he feels, resting his eyes on the closed door before him, is difficult to contain. After spilt grace and unspeakable sacrifice and a long, arduous final battle, here he stands, at last victorious, ready to step into the room that holds not only what they have come for, but the only thing that can conceivably bring Heaven to true glory.

Now is the moment when he has no choice but to come completely into himself.

His preferred state of existence is spreading himself out, stretching across several dimensions at once. Mostly because it’s a nusiance to stay contained in one single dimension - it leaves his insides itchy and strange - but for this moment, for this confrontation, it’s necessary. Even in an adapted form, away from his true splendour, it’s quite possible that the soul on the other side of that door won’t be able to concieve him, let alone communicate with him on any meaningful level.

As Castiel begins to pull himself together, the illusion surrounding him stutters.

Hell is not walls and cells and corridors. Hell is black, inky shadows where no oxygen exists. Nothing survives here because nothing is meant to. It reeks of death and fear, and he has loathed the stench ever since first setting foot through the gates and starting upon this quest, but now, as he leaves the upper dimensions to come fully into this one, the overpowering scent of terror, eminating from the lost and tortured, is overcome by the more provocing and immediate scent of fresh blood. It’s still a part of the illusion, an illusion put in place by the Devil to push at the soul’s lingering perceptions of reality, underpinning his delighting in slowly driving them insane, but it is a very convincing one, especially now that Castiel finds himself on the more basic cellular level, close to the level he has been whenever he’s had cause to take a human vessel.

At this level, the scent of blood is prevailant because the belief that blood is being shed on the other side of that door, a belief that is held firm by the torturer doing the shedding, is strong enough to trace itself around Castiel, like a crimson pattern of quiet foreboding, signalling that the soul is so trapped in the illusion around it that it believes the illusion to be its reality. Convincing it otherwise, in order to bring it willingly out of this place, may yet prove the greater challenge of this entire enterprise. Forcing the soul out against its will could leave it in tatters.

Castiel fixes his eyes on the door, and with nothing more than a thought, he erases the spellwork keeping the illusion of it in place.

The force of the disillusionment makes the wood splinter inwards in a cascade of sharp pieces and he walks through the doorway without any hesitation, already sensing precisely what carnage is about to greet him. He’s not mistaken.

Dean Winchester is wearing what are meant to be clothes, but the garments are so caked in dried blood they appear more like a thick secondary skin. Before him, stretched out on a slab of stone, is the soul of another man, and the slender knife in Dean Winchester’s right hand is just finishing its task of carving a pattern into the man’s stomach. The torture is felt in every single part of the soul, and it is left screaming from such a deep point of pain that it comes out as no sound at all, merely a contortion of the face, mouth gaping.

Castiel watches as a tear teeters in the corner the man’s staring left eye, before spilling over, sliding down his temple to join with the sweat and previous tears soaking his dark hair.

Castiel can feel the despair eminating from the soul, like a chain wrapping itself around his chest, tightening with every second, bidding him to release it.

He cannot.

The knife is pulled out, dripping from it onto the floor as Dean Winchester steps back to admire his handiwork. He is so far gone.

Ever since Castiel first set foot in hell he has felt what he’s feeling now, the fury of the righteous man, the raging need of retribution, like a slow pulse against his being, but the almost-thing before him is inches away from contracting black eyes, the demonic influence of his guards clearly having proved too overpowering. Castiel expected something less than what was sent to Hell, but this… There is barely any humanity left in him.

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel speaks with force, knowing that if Dean Winchester’s soul doesn’t listen to its mortal name, then there will surely only be shrapnel left, scattered pieces of memory where most of its life on Earth has been completely forgotten.

He’s unsure of how easily or accurately a soul in pieces can be put back together again. He’s never heard of anyone ever even attempting it. Could God mend a broken soul? Would he mend it?

Castiel’s wings are taut along his back for the seconds it takes the soul before him to react.

Dean Winchester has yet to acknowledge him in any way, even as he stands in the middle of this space. The soul didn’t pause when the door shattered, nor did it react at the intrusion as Castiel made his way into the room, but at his name being spoken, Dean Winchester’s brows furrow and he turns his head to Castiel, finally a query there of who exactly it is that’s come to interrupt him in his work.

The frown only deepens when his eyes meet Castiel’s.

Castiel relaxes a fraction, in spite of the incredulous scrutiny he’s under. At least this is a start, but there’s a faint scent of sulfur hanging in the air. The infestation of the place like a sickness flowing through the soul before him. Tainted.

Finally Dean Winchester speaks, but Castiel is perturbed by how he’s taken by surprise, something that’s rare for him, and especially as he’s taken by surprise not only by the words spoken, but by how they’re delivered.

With the frown never leaving Dean Winchester’s face there’s not a glimmer of reverence, not even a trace of intrigue - merely annoyance - as he asks:

“And what the hell are you supposed to be?”

His voice is deep, commanding, utterly lacking fear. He feels this is his territory. He feels he has the upper hand. He doesn’t understand. And Castiel is slightly thrown, because the soul acts as though Castiel’s Heavenly light isn’t visible to him at all. The soul is reacting as though Castiel is an equal, meant to be challenged. This is highly unusual. Even though human perception of angelic grace is limited to a very small number of exceptional recievers, Castiel is still accustomed to sheer and immediate awe at the moment of revelation.

Castiel ruffles his feathers without meaning to, bristling at the lack of understanding that the righteous man is looking his salvation right in the eye.

“I am an angel of the Lord,” Castiel replies, with as much command.

To his utter disbelief, all it does is produce a lopsided grin.

“A what now?” Dean Winchester asks. “You hear that?” he adds to the soul still contorted on the slab before him, leaning forward so that the man’s eyes widen an impossible fraction more in absolute terror before he adds: “Next he’ll tell me Sasquatch is real.”

He spins the bloodied weapon thrice between nimble fingers before raising his arm and bringing it down with awesome force, making the tip of it stick in the stone before him, leaving it to quiver in place. The improbability of a knife cutting through stone doesn’t seem to bother him. He’s accepted the illusion completely, then. He’s become part of it.

Castiel realises, with mounting concern, that this soul will most definitively not come willingly. The taint has been brought on by years of servitude and the soul has made peace with it. It believes it belongs here.

“Dean Winchester, you are to come with me,” Castiel states, begging no question.

Of course - there are questions.

“That right?” Dean Winchester says, looking amused more than anything else. “And why’s that?” he adds, pulling a dirty piece of cloth out of one pocket and drying his hands off of any wet blood, all the while keeping his eyes steadily in Castiel’s.

Castiel very much dislikes it. There is a calm strength surrounding this corrupted soul that is making Castiel feel discombobulated, the power of the soul’s convictions making the illusion of the room, the slab, the traces of drying blood all over the floor, feel real, even as Castiel knows it is not.

“Because God has commanded it,” he now replies, back straightening with the words, with the heavy duty that has come with this mission, with all that’s depending on its successful outcome.

“God?” Dean Winchester repeats. “Get the hell out of here. The big guy himself. Wow,” he continues, nonsensically, but offering some sort of clarification when he says: “Well, you tell that dickwad next time you see him that I don’t take well to ‘commandments’.” He puts his fingers up, hooking them around the word as if to give it certain significance and Castiel realises he’s staring, his mind working furiously to keep up with what exactly is happening. “Kinda had that habit beaten out of me. Actually kinda never had the habit,” Dean Winchester finishes with another lopsided smile. “Not exactly the get down on my knees and pray type, if you know what I mean.”

Castiel understands the meaning of that sentence well enough - the lack of faith in this soul is beginning to resemble something like a wall between them. Invisible, but impenetrable all the same. It won’t do.

“I will drag you out of here if I have to,” Castiel says, not meaning it to come out as a dare for disobedience, especially since he’s not meant to do anything of the sort and, in all honesty, barely even knows where the impulse to speak the threat has come from, but that’s how it leaves his mouth nonetheless.

“Whatever rocks your boat, man. Drag away,” Dean Winchester replies, holding his hands up dismissively.

Castiel moves his wings again, shaking the feathers out as a warning that only another angel would really understand, and doing it mostly as something of a deterrent for himself.

Because Castiel knows, with everything in him, that he shouldn’t approach the soul. He’s not meant to make unnessacary contact. In fact, he’s not meant to touch the soul at all. If the soul was willing, he wouldn’t have to even consider it, but if the choice is to leave the soul here or take a chance at raising it out of Hell and only bringing remnants with him, then there is no choice. He can’t leave it here. He must at least try to bring something, anything, back with him or face the failure as his, and his alone.

And so, in the middle of deliberation he begins to walk forward, before he can question it, making the decision on the fly, feeling as though he’s breaking through some unseen obstacle as he approaches the soul, thinking it the right decision thanks to that impression, but as he reaches out for Dean Winchester, the righteous man suddenly steps to the side, making Castiel’s touch move through nothing but air as Dean Winchester grasps the knife, his movements like water, spinning a half-turn and sinking the weapon deep into Castiel’s chest.

Castiel looks at it for a moment, before he grasps the hilt and pulls it out, eyeing it for another moment and then dropping it unceremoniously at Dean Winchester’s feet, eyes meeting his and suddenly Castiel wonders exactly what it is Dean Winchester sees when he looks at him. Is Castiel truly appearing as just another soul to him?

And he finally understands: this is not the first time this has happened.

Dean Winchester held out for thirty years, waiting for salvation, no wonder he’s no longer equipped to recognise it when it arrives. He let go of the hope that it would a long time ago.

“I’m not part of the lies they’ve fed you, Dean,” Castiel braves calling the soul by first name only, knowing some would feel it breeching the code of conduct, but he needs to reach him. “I am of Heaven,” he continues. “And I’m come to bring you home.”

There’s a spark. It’s brief, but Castiel sees it. Recognition. Possibly even yearning to believe it could be true. The dying hope not quite yet dead, the need for faith not entirely beaten out of him. It emboldens Castiel further, until Dean speaks again.

“I am home,” he says.

“You don’t belong here,” Castiel says, for the first time, in all the years he’s spent wanting to reach this exact place, truly believing it himself.

Dean smiles a broad smile then; it lights up his eyes, even in the dimness of the room.

“Says who? God?” he asks.

“You doubt me,” Castiel says, realising to his own surprise that he doesn’t want this doubt, that he doesn’t deserve it, and that he wants, more than anything he’s ever wanted, to show Dean Winchester how wrong he truly is.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Dean says.

There’s a few breaths where Castiel merely eyes the other, wondering why the salvation of this soul is morphing from an external necessity to something he feels throughout his entire being as the only right thing and should he fail, he doesn’t think he will be able to bear it.

“There’s only one problem, Dean,” Castiel says.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“I’m not the one lacking faith,” Castiel replies, and before Dean can move away again, Castiel’s touch places itself gently against Dean’s left shoulder.

This was always the objective, Castiel tells himself. This is the only way for him to lift this soul and for him to bring it with him, and he’s breaking protocol by not waiting for consent, but they didn’t know the soul was this far gone. They will understand that he had no choice, surely.

Before he can even really begin to fully question his following the impulse, his thoughts are interrupted by the impressions hitting him all at once, like a pulsing heart beat that transfers itself from the center of Dean Winchester’s soul into the center of Castiel’s grace.

With every beat comes a new sensation until all the new is a jumbled mess of rooted fear and defensive anger, with compassion surging, flowing like a river, deep and unyielding to any other emotion, and somewhere there’s tentative joy and formidable loyalty and a longing Castiel can’t quite understand, only its within him now, all of it within him too, as the illusion around them finally falls away and they begin to rise, together.

Dean Winchester’s eyes are in Castiel’s, and Castiel stares back, wanting to reassure the soul, wanting to make certain it is coming to the understanding of the truth, and wanting to reassure himself that he wasn’t mistaken, that the flicker of hope truly was hidden behind that wall he had to step through, and then, before Castiel’s astonished gaze, the soul begins to brighten, the taint slowly rising off it, like wisps of dark smoke. Castiel barely dares believe its him doing it, but there’s nothing else to produce this sudden state of grace, and then…

And then Dean kisses him.

They are both made of nothing but light, both floating in energy and in spaces between dimensions without human form, but this kiss is something Dean Winchester wants and so they’re kissing, the sensations are something Dean Winchester knows, and so Castiel knows them too. Lips against lips. And then Castiel’s lips part to allow Dean’s tongue to lick against his, and Castiel’s eyes are open wide in alarmed surprise at the cascading glittering strangely unbidden rivulets of heat spreading from the tips of his wings through his entire being and he closes his eyes. This is no more than the soul expressing overwhelming trust, gratitude and happiness. This soul is rejoicing at being set free, at being brought home.

But something is shaking itself loose within Castiel that has been wound tight for so long that he didn’t even realise it. An echoing longing of his own. To know more, to learn. To feel. To feel freely. With it comes a fear he’s never before experienced, and he finds himself clutching at the soul, holding on for everything he’s worth.

Then, in a blink, they’re pulled apart.

The light of the soul, the warmth of its closeness, is gone, but Castiel knows instantly where its been sent, as the lingering connection allows him to experience the moment when the soul rests back into its body. It happens as Castiel rises out of a clearing where the trees have been felled outward at the surge of power when he and the soul were disconnected.

Another blink and Castiel is unceremoniously yanked back into himself and slammed onto a hard surface, seated before his superiors, who ask him a hundred and one questions before telling him that Dean Winchester won’t remember anything of the rescue, or of him, and that he’s to introduce himself to the human, keep him safe, and await further instructions.

Castiel basks in the commendations for a job well done, but, once he’s left alone, there’s a gnawing in his chest that won’t leave him be, soft thrills through his wings, because the longing didn’t dissipate with the loss of that immediate connection. Instead, what it’s given way for, is slowly creeping doubt. A doubt that fans the fear into an ever spreading confusion.

He doesn’t know what to do with it.

What he does know is that he’s been charged with the safety of Dean Winchester. He’ll focus on that. It’s what he should do. It’s all he can do. He’ll keep his distance, as is expected of him, and he’ll guide the human as best as he can and only physically interact if it becomes absolutely necessary. He feels he’s interferred enough as it is and, surely, given enough space, the gnawing will stop, the unbidden thrills will go away, and the doubt will fade. Everything will return to normal. The thought makes him feel better. And yet, he does wonder…

He knows he let his touch linger for much too long, distracted away from the absolute power contained within the soul, power that is enough to burn even a soldier of Heaven. He should have gotten them to that clearing faster, but he missed his aim. It’s why his superiors interfered - he was never meant to stay with the soul for as long as he did, and especially not in the connected state they were in.

It’s bound to have left a mark.

#spn fan fiction #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #dean #cas #hell #spn 4x01 #lazarus rising #torture for ts #blood for ts #first meeting #first kiss

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sweetness47 · 4 years

Text

The Newcomer

Pairing Cas x Dean x Sam

@castielspnbingo – pirate AU

@spndeanbingo – Castiel

@samwinchesterbingo – dry humping

@deanandsambingo – bed sharing

WARNINGS: MATURE 18+ READERS ONLY!!!!! Smut, threesome, wincest, three men, sub! Cas, amnesia, near death experience

“This is gonna be one hell of a shitstorm Sammy!” Dean’s words carry through the walls of the cave. The waterfall gem was one of the best finds the brothers had discovered since landing on the island. It had proven a life saver many times, shielding the boys from the occasional tropical hurricane that passed through.

They had formed a routine for storms, the first was making sure the shelter was secure. Food was piled for the long haul, as the storms could last anywhere from a couple of days to a week. The boys made sure there was enough dry wood to last, then they spent their days and evenings huddled for warmth, fucking, making love.

Sam loved being the big spoon. He was taller than Dean, which made him a better cuddle buddy. He usually woke first, and he was always rock hard. Sam would grind his erection into Dean’s ass, the two pairs of thin boxers providing little shielding. He would start humping his older brother, holding his hips as he assaulted him. Dean loved how it felt, it was his favorite way to wake up, moaning as each push got more intense. When he couldn’t take it any longer, Dean would pull from Sam’s hold so he could turn and face his lover, their lips colliding in a heated exchange that left both needing. Sometimes Dean would go first, sometimes Sam, but neither one left unsatisfied. Their life was perfect.

“Captain! Hurricane!!!” Gabriel shouted. Cas looked to the skies, his eyes taking in the dark threat, mentally preparing for the worst.

“Secure those barrels! Get the sails rolled up! Move! Anything not tied down needs to get below deck! It’s coming in fast!”

Michael and Luci grabbed the sails, while Gadreel and Gabe began moving lose items below. The brothers were the most feared pirates to ever grace the seven seas. Modern day thieves, the family of brothers turned to piracy as a way to survive after they were orphaned. Cas wasn’t the oldest, in fact, he was the youngest of the five. He was ten when their father had passed. As he grew, none could deny his natural ability to lead, to be calm and level-headed, even when things went south. Actually, his leadership and quick thinking had kept them from getting caught numerous times.

They had enough to retire 10 times over, but the urge to venture out, to feel the thrill of the adrenaline rush as they lifted precious cargo from various places without being caught, was too great to resist. The sheer power they felt after each successful heist was beyond addictive. They had encountered storms before, even hurricanes, but this one was darker, more menacing than any previous ones. Indeed, this one was far more dangerous, and Cas was pretty sure it was a category five.

FUCK!

High velocity winds and lightning set up them much quicker than they had predicted. Visibility dropped to near zero as the heavens opened, unleashing a torrential rainfall. Cas yelled for everyone to get below, to forget the kegs that remained loose. The lives of his brothers were worth far more than some cargo.

He watched the last brother reach the safety of the cabins just before waves crashed into the sides of the boat, catching Cas off guard. The last thing he remembered before his head slammed into the rails, was the lightning bolt hitting the deck, cracking the vessel wide open and flames erupting to engulf the entire ship.

The brothers peeked out after the three-day event, eyes taking in the damage from the storm. Leaves and branches littered the swim hole, but thankfully the shelter remained mostly intact. That was the one thing they were grateful for, the shelter that the cliff provided them. Dean volunteered to check the main beach, mostly because Sam had done it last time. They usually came back empty handed, but occasionally were graced with various gifts, including clothing, well-packaged food, blankets, and even toiletries.

Today was different.

At first, Dean saw only the wreckage: broken wood, tattered sails. He began to pick through the rubble, finding a few surprises, including rare gold coins and jewels, hell, he even found a few kegs of beer and wine. Then he noticed the movement under a distant pile of rubble, followed by low moaning.

Fuck! There was a person under there!

Dean ran over, grabbing the wooden planks and tossing them aside. He uncovered the man’s dark hair first, then worked on the rest. Finely tuned muscle and well defined hips had Dean licking his lips. Jeez Dean, focus!

He found some rope and a made a makeshift sleigh to bring him back to camp.

“Sammy!” he yelled.

The younger Winchester came running. “Dean? What the…” he paused when he saw the unconscious man on the stretcher.

“Found him under a pile of rubble. I didn’t get a chance to go through the rest of the stuff. Thought this should be our first priority.”

Sam nodded and knelt down beside the stretcher. He checked his pulse and checked for any major signs of injury. Finding none, he checked for ID next. The family crest was the only thing Sam did find on his neck chain, but there was no name with it.

“Well, whoever he is, he’s going to have one nasty headache. He’s lucky he survived.” Sam noted. “I’ll go check through the rest of the stuff. You stay here. And, Dean?”

His brother looked up, meeting Sam’s lips in a gentle kiss. “Yeah?”

Sam smiled. “Be careful.”

“Don’t worry Sammy, I ain’t planning on dying today.” With that, he playfully swatted Sam’s ass while sending him to check the shore line.

Moaning from the makeshift bed had Dean focussing once again on the newcomer. His eyes fluttered open, trying to adjust to the sunlight. His eyes took in his surroundings, then they landed on Dean. The man tried to scramble away and gain a defensive stance. Dean put his hands up slowly, palms facing out to show peace.

“Whoa, easy. I’m not going to hurt you. I found you buried under some wreckage and brought you to our camp. You’re safe here.”

The man relaxed, then gingerly brought his hand up to the back of his head, wincing at the pain. “Thank you for helping me. Where are we?”

Dean shrugged. “No clue. My brother and I have been here a long time, over a year.” He held his hand out in greeting. “Name’s Dean.”

The man paused for a moment, then took the hand offered. “Cas.”

Both Cas and Dean stared a few moments longer, as sparks passed between them. It was almost magnetic. Both men pulled away quickly, embarrassed. Sam returned later to find Dean and the stranger talking while consuming some fruit. Behind Sam, a sled filled with men’s clothing, bottles of wine, a few kegs of beer, and a slew of well sealed rations, including granola bars, toiletries, dried fruit, jerky, and first-aid supplies.

Dean lets out a low whistle, then turns to Cas. “Sam here is my younger brother.” Then he turned to Sam. “This is Cas.” The two exchange handshakes, and again both feel a spark, a magnetic attraction that neither would admit to. However, this doesn’t go unnoticed by Dean. But instead of jealousy, he feels lust, noting the three-way connection possibilities. Dean feels himself getting hard at the idea, wondering if Cas would be interested in joining him and Sam.

The evening is filled with talk and laughter and food. Cas notes that the brothers are very easy going, and has also noticed that they haven’t pressed him for any information about himself, not that he can remember. He can’t even remember his own name. The only reason he was able to give a name at all was he had seen it tattooed on his forearm.

Among the notable details is the closeness the two brothers share, and the spark he’d experienced with both men. They were both devastatingly handsome, an instant attraction no one could deny.

Eventually, arrangements were made for sleeping. The brothers offered their guest the choice of cave or the lean-to cabin they’d built. Both had decent sleep areas and a fire could easily be built in the cave if need be. Cas chose the lean-to, giving the brothers the larger quarters. They bid each other good night and Cas watched as Sam and Dean wrapped their arms around each other and walked toward the waterfall.

Cas couldn’t fall asleep. He tossed and turned, feeling like something was missing. The boys had made quite the home here, the bed was more than comfortable, so whatever was bugging him, it wasn’t the comfort level.

Then he knew. It was the sleeping arrangements. Cas couldn’t explain it, but the desire to sleep with Sam and Dean was overwhelming his mindset. He wasn’t sure if he swung that way, but his mind didn’t care, and neither did his cock, now rigid with the idea of the brothers taking him. If this was going to be his first time, he wanted it to be with Sam and Dean.

Before Cas had even blinked, he found himself heading toward the cave. The closer he got, the more excited he became, as heavy breathing and lustful noises greeted him. He glanced inside to find the brothers entwined in each other’s arms, dry humping, grinding as they kissed. Cas began rubbing his own hard cock, moaning softly as he watched.

Dean looked over to the entrance, seeing Cas standing there. He whispers something to Sam, who nods eagerly.

“Cas, both Sam and I would love for you to join us.”

Cas had never moved so fast as he did then, driven by lust and desire, his need to fuck and be fucked by these two sex gods dissolved any rational thought. Clothes flew in all directions as he strode toward his goal, till only his boxers remained. Dean grabbed him first, devouring Cas’s mouth with his own. Sam reached inside both men’s shorts, stroking the hard shafts that meet his hands.

They moan as the kiss heats up. Sam moves to stand behind Cas, nibbling along his neck and shoulders. He bites and sucks, leaving a few marks along the way. Dean breaks the lip lock long enough to suck on the other side, also marking Cas.

The brothers look at each other, then at their new toy. “Ours.” They said in unison.

With in seconds, all three are void of their shorts, eager for what’s to follow. Dean and Sam make a plan, then tell Cas.

“Cas, Dean wants to take you first. Then you’re going to take me, and then you watch Dean suck me off. Got it?”

Cas nods. Sam gets down on hands and knees, moving so his ass is in the air. Cas spits on his hand, then rubs it on his tip, mixing it with the precum that is already leaking out. He spreads the cheeks of the younger Winchester and pushes in slowly, groaning as he bottoms out. The shear pleasure it brings is more than Cas ever imagined.

Sam grinds against Cas, and Cas begins to move, pulling out then slamming back in, thrusting hard and without mercy, causing Sam to curse as he’s hit with mounds of pleasure. Dean’s eyes are full blown with lust as he watches.

“Hold still Cas. Present that firm ass for me.”

The command makes Cas even harder. The dominance radiating from both men has him whimpering with even greater need. He discovered at that moment how much he enjoys being a sub, being ordered around by the brothers. Cas bends down, covering Sam’s lean body with his own, shivering with anticipation.

Dean lines up with Cas’s tight hole, and first inserts a large finger, then a second. Cas moans as the large digits stretch and fill him. Dean pulls out and Cas almost complains, until he feels something bigger pressing in. Burning sensations jolt through him, then he sighs when Dean begins placing soft kisses along his neck and whispers in his ear. “Relax, take a deep breath. The more relaxed you are, the easier this is.”

Cas closes his eyes, willing his muscles to release the tension. He wants this more than he’ll admit, so he succeeds and the tension leaves. Dean feels the instant shift, and pushes his way in slowly. He stops to let Cas adjust, then pushes a little more. Each time he kisses along Cas’s back and neck, knowing he needs the tenderness for relaxing.

He finally bottoms out, and silence fills the cave for a minute. Then the three men begin, first Cas pulls out, then Dean, only to have Dean slam into Cas, which causes Cas to slam into Sam. The rhythm is almost too much, jolts of electricity envelope the three lovers, and they shiver with delight. They thrust again and again, picking up speed as they go. The cave echoes with the sound of skin slapping against skin, grunting, moans of ecstasy. Cas is the first to find release, his cock spilling inside Sam, then Dean follows, crying out Cas’s name as he cums inside the dark haired man.

But Dean isn’t done, as there is still one man that needs to be satisfied. Cas watches as Dean kneels in front of Sam, licking his lips as he eyes Sam’s erect cock, already dripping with precum. Dean runs his tongue over the hard phallus, teasing the tip, then taking his brother’s cock into his mouth. Sam grabs Dean’s hair and thrusts his cock forth, fucking his older brother’s mouth with gusto. Dean grabs Sam’s hips for support as the assault continues, and Cas practically drools at the entire whole scenario. Fuck! These brothers were hot and damn sexy! Sam doesn’t take long, a guttural cry escaping as he deposits his load, and watching Dean as his brother swallows every single drop. Dean stands, and taking Cas’s hand, the three men head to the pool to wash up before going to sleep, together.

@legion1993

#spndeanbingo #castielspnbingo #samwinchesterbingo #deanandsambingo

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oddsocksandstuff · 4 years

Text

Mercy

For @badthingshappenbingo

Square filled: Not used to freedom

Fandom: Supernatural

Genfic.

Tags: reference to torture, aftermath of torture, canon compliant, rescue, first meeting, trueform!Cas, brief mentions of being buried alive and coming back from death.

A story of an Angel of the Lord plucking the righteous man out of the black. (Set briefly before Season 4 episode 1)

Reprieve in hell was a fickle thing, it came at the expense of another’s pain. It came perched on the tip of a blade or inside the flickers of flame directed at another. You held out until you didn't, and everybody cracked in the end; a small splinter that grew until you caved in on yourself and became hollow.

An endless feedback loop, a snake eating itself, a spiralling path that turned ever inwards; down and down into depths darker at every turn.

Dean had been black for years, if one could count time in hell in the rotations of the earth and passage across the stars. It seemed an eternity, and the reason for his own reprieve was long lost to the recesses of memory. He turned the screw tighter, and cut deeper, and burned hotter and faster and crueller so as not to look back. His own pain like a phantom in the night that never gave up the chase, his own fear a choking fog that drove him ever onward to pulling apart those around him; so that he might be saved the punishment himself.

Not a willing pupil, but an attentive one, an eager learner; how to carve, how to make them sing. They all sang eventually, they all fell to his knife and his whims.

Reprieve in hell was never a sure thing, and always the terror of being inadequate made him righteous in his anger. How dare anyone, or anything, put him back on the whipping post when he’d worked so long, and so hard, and endured so much to be free of it?

But resolve in hell was a thin thread stretched taut, and he never did his surety waver more than in those last moments. The crash came loud and long, a booming cacophony that echoed from above as though all the walls were falling inward. It grew louder, and nearer, and he gripped his blood stained weapon with all the strength he had. He was certain, for moments that spanned an eternity, that his luck had run out. Alistair must be displeased to come for him with such ferocity, such wrath. Screaming and clashing of blades that seared through his skull and rendered him motionless in fear.

Surely he was done for, the pain about to swallow him whole, the darkness come to consume him.

Light erupted ahead of the noise, the very sight of it overwhelming to his much-dimmed vision. He turned, and struck, and met his match. A flaming, winged thing so very far from Alistair’s blackness. Resplendent and terrifying, it battered his attack away with a blow that set his bones to rattling.

He snarled, and threw himself forward with fists and nails and teeth, and was caught up, wrapped in tendrils of power and strength that smothered and burned. He thrashed and kicked, and threw back his head with a wail. This was worse, whatever punishment he’d earned now, than anything he’d felt before. It seared him from the inside out and he looked down to see blackened, charred flesh fall from his body. Flakes and ash peeling away everywhere the light touched him.

Fighting raged above and behind him, roars of anger and shouts of victory reached his ears. Something looked down at him, peered close and tilted him this way and that. He cowered under its gaze, a gaze that seemed like a mirror reflecting all his brokenness back at him. He saw the ruined, scarred mess of his soul in many giant lidless eyes and clenched his jaw to keep back tears. He knew what he must look like, and he didn’t want to see it.

“Dean Winchester has been saved.”

No!

Fire red and coal dark walls sped past him as he was thrust upward with a lurch, the thing that gripped him held tight and kept him close.

Stop, no!

“Yes, you have been saved.”

You can’t.

“It has already been done.”

Saved for what?

“For earth, for your purpose.”

I have no purpose, I’m just a tool, I wield and am wielded.

“You are many things, a soldier yes, a brother, a man, perhaps a saviour… it remains to be seen.”

Brother? No? It couldn’t be. That way lay danger.

“Would you like to see the sun again? To be free again?”

There is no sun here, it has all been taken. There is no freedom, not from what we’ve done.

“I can return all you have lost. Give all of it back to you.”

Look at me, I’m not worth saving. Where could I go, that would have me?

“Sam, I think, will be glad to see you.”

You can’t! I’m not… I would hurt him!

“Why?”

It’s what I do, that’s my purpose, don’t you see?

“I see a man, broken, but not ruined.”

I don’t think I count as a man, anymore.

Time slowed, the fire grew colder and the speed of their ascent got slower. Heaviness weighed down on his head, pressure that spiked pain through his being, an ache behind his teeth that ate its way upward.

“It’s all falling away now, all of it left behind. Look back, you can see it.”

He screwed his eyes closed and refused until gentle light suffused him and he gasped.

“Look Dean, it is all alright.”

One enormous eye, on the face of a great lion, held his attention. “You are not withered anymore.”

He glanced back, and down, and saw his own form glowing. Star bright and effervescent, and a trail of dying flesh that floated away from him, burned off by the intensity of the flames around his body.

What did you do?

“Returned you to the way you should be, unmarred.”

It’s all…. gone?

“Memories remain, the taint of them is lifted.”

Why? I don’t deserve it.

“That is not for you to decide. What I see beneath, of who you really are, that is what matters.”

The pressure increased until he convulsed with it, walls closed in and pressed upon him. The being that held him didn’t seem fazed, or falter.

Please don’t take me back to Sam, it won’t be the same. He’ll see what I really am.

“Forgiveness is a glorious thing Dean Winchester, and I believe your brother is better at it than most.”

And you, do you forgive me?

He needed to know, to feel it. The stink of the pit was still in his nose, still lingered on his breath and he wanted nothing more than to be free of it.

Blue irises, emanating light, shone brighter as they looked at him. “I saved you, I think that speaks for itself."

What am I supposed to do?

“Live, survive, be the light in the world you were always meant to be.”

Saving people, hunting things, the family business… he hadn’t recalled these things in a lifetime. They felt so alien now. Whatever escape he had found came at the expense of his humanity— he had thrown it away like an unwanted gift. He couldn’t save anyone now, not when he was the shadow himself, when he was the monster under the bed that all fathers warned their sons about. He had drowned himself in evil to spare himself a little pain, he was well on the way to having eyes as black as his soul. How could he go back to cutting away the evil in others, as though he didn’t know where it came from?

Who will tell me what to do?

“No-one, you will be free.”

Freedom is just a length of rope, an illusion. Freedom isn’t for me. I’m not made for it.

“You will be, again, in time.”

He felt the press and roughness of earth and stone crowd around him. A physical weight on his being. The Angel— he knew now that was what it was— that carried him thrust harder, forcing them forward. Through. To the surface.

To life. Life that was so far beyond his scope of understanding, life that he had left behind, turned away from. His hope for it had been abandoned to survive the cut of the knife.

You can’t do this, I’m not ready!

Roots struck out and barred their path and his saviour slowed, carefully pushed them aside like a tender gardener.

“There is no time to waste, Dean Winchester. Life is waiting for you, the world needs you.”

I’m not strong enough, I don’t want it, I don’t want to be needed.

“No-one ever does, fate has her plans.”

The pressure was suffocating, and he remembered suddenly that life came with breath and breath needed space for air, and there was no air here in this underground place.

It’ll hurt, won’t it. The worst things always did.

“I know little of pain, but I fear it will not come easily. Your body awaits you, go with grace, Dean Winchester. I have faith in you.”

What’s your name?

The Angel paused. “Castiel. You will not remember me, I think, not like this anyway. It has been good to know you, and I will know you again.”

With one final thrust, one parry through the jaws of the earth that split apart atoms with a single push of energy, he felt crushed through dirt, and wood, and bone. Light flashed behind his eyes, energy fractured him apart and knit him back together. He became whole. Spirit and flesh reunited.

He gasped.

And opened his eyes in the dark.

Life in the ground is such a fragile thing. Survival against better judgement is an instinct one cannot fight.

So he clawed, and scraped, and dug, and thrashed until the coffin was empty. Until he was free. Until the hollowness in his chest was filled deeply, until sunlight burned his eyes and he knew reprieve had found him; and it had come at the hands of light, the mercy of blue eyes, and the revival of his soul.

He rubbed the place in his chest where the dark had taken root and resolved to fill it with something else.

Coming home, Sammy. Coming back to life. Whatever that means.

He stood on shaky legs, and started walking.

[also on ao3 here]

#dean winchester #castiel #spn fic #my fic #bad things happen bingo #rescue #reference to torture #canon compliant #dean in hell #dean rescued from hell #dean and cas #trueform!cas #spn fanfic #genfic

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throne-of-embers-and-storms · 4 years

Text

Seeing the Stars

Castiel X Reader

It was midnight and Dean, Sam and I had just arrived back at the motel. I look up to see the whole sky is blanketed in pure black without a star in the sky. Three months have passed since all angels fell from heaven and during that time I have joined the Winchesters on their hunting trips. I had to get used to human life fairly quickly once I fell and I still have many difficulties understanding the humans strange customs.

"Those vampires were a bitch…bar anyone?" Dean asks the two of us whilst already heading in the direction of the bar across the street from where we are currently standing. But suddenly, a metallic thrumming noise starts from the alley way to our left.

"Can you guys hear that or is it just me?" Sam, the younger Winchester, asks with a confused yet curious expression on his face.

"Never get a break around here…" Dean mutters quietly under his breath. The three of us start walking towards the alley where the noise appears to be coming from. At the end of the narrow aisle, a strange blue blur is appearing in and out of my vision. Is this some kind of demon trick?

The three of us inch our way to the strange sight ahead of us at the end of the alley, weapons in our hands. The blue blur takes a few seconds until it starts to materialize into an actual sight. A blue box with the words 'Police Phone Box' stand in front of me and it comes in and out of my view a few more times before it stops.

"Uh, Cas. Any idea here?" Dean asks me with wide eyes. I don't reply because honestly, I'm just as clueless right now. So instead I just shrug and the three of us start to move closer to the box ahead.

Out of nowhere though, the door is burst open by a man with a bow tie and shaggy brown hair who quickly takes in the sight of myself and the two Winchesters on either side of me as well as our, not so concealed, weapons.

"Uh, there's no need for weapons. I'm not here to hurt you." The man says with his hands slightly up as if in surrender. What is this blue box? I've never seen something like this. It just appeared... seemingly out of thin air.

"Who are you and what the hell is that?" Dean shouts at the man in apprehension and fear of the unknown.

"I'm the Doctor and this is the TARDIS. She's my ship. Who are you?" The Doctor asks.

"This is Dean and Sam Winchester," I say with glances at the two hunters. ", and my name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord." I say to the man in front of me.

"An angel? Well, I haven't seen an angel in centuries. Please come in. Let me show you around." The Doctor says, ushering us all into his TARDIS. Seen an angel? So he's met my kind before...

Who is this man? I have never heard of this Doctor, although he seems to know of my kind. Walking into the box, I look around and stop. I can vaguely hear Dean shouting how we won't all fit in here, but stepping into the box, I see that it is bigger on the inside. How? This technology is more advanced than humans possess. If only I was an angel… then maybe I could do something. But I do not believe this man wants to hurt us.

"Cas, man. Get out of there." I hear Dean shout from the outside. The Doctor leans against what looks like the control console of this contraption.

"Dean, Sam. It's fine. There's nothing to fear. We'll all easily fit." I shout back to the two brothers standing outside. "What is this?" I ask the Doctor who has gone to a screen behind me and is looking at it intently and focused.

Behind me, Sam and Dean slowly and anxiously walk into the Tardis, guns in hand. "Weapons away. You won't be hurt in here." The Doctor says with a glance at the two and a confused glance towards me. Why?

"Y/N, come in here. We have guests." The man with the bow tie exclaims out of nowhere.

"No need to shout. I'm here." A girl with (Y/H/C) hair comes bouncing down the glass stairs on my left. Wow. She's beautiful. I've never seen a girl like her. The way she walks with such confidence. "Who are these people Doctor?" She asks the man with a friendly smile.

"Y/N, this is Sam and Dean Winchester. They stopped the apocalypse." He says motioning to the two behind me. Wait, How does he know that? Both are still looking in awe at their surroundings when they finally notice the girl called Y/N. Their eyes are focused on the girl in front of us and both walk forwards to be closer. She is stunning.

"Hello." She says with a soft angelic voice."I'm (Y/N) (L/N). This is the TARDIS. It's bigger on the inside due to sciency things, but I'm sure the Doctor hasn't explained a thing to you, going by your expressions that is." She says with a laugh towards the Doctor. "I guess you've never been in a time machine before. Wait apocalypse?" She says with a shock at the end, changing the subject.

"Against Lucifer." I offer to her. Turning her head, her (E/C) eyes meet my ice blue ones and all over I feel a warm feeling.

"Lucifer. What like the devil?" She asks and I nod my head as an answer, not being able to keep my eyes off her. "Huh, I thought they were just old stories you know, hell, heaven. In the future, religion really isn't a big thing. Nearly non-existent. Oh and you are?" She finally asks for my name in a sweet voice. Religion isn't a big thing, the future?

"Did you say the future?" Sam asks the girl. Her head turns away from me before I can answer and she starts to talk to Sam. For some reason I feel disappointment and another strange feeling to her talking to another man.

"Yes. I'm not from this time. I'm from the 51st century and live in what you would call London. Doctor what's going on?" She asks confidently. Her eyes shine with hope and dreams... and even a bit of rebelliousness.

"I found them outside. I've been wanting to meet you three for a long time. The ones that stopped armaggedon and that fight between the two archangels." The Doctor says whilst rapidly turning to us. His eyes are blazing with curiosity. "You've never met an angel have you (Y/N)?" He asks the girl.

"No. I haven't. Why? One of you aren't angels are you?" She says with the same curiosity in her bright (E/C) eyes as the Doctor. Her eyes shift amongst the three of us.

"My name is Castiel, I'm an angel of the Lord... or was." I say,my eyes falling to the glass floor.

"I was wondering about that. Where is your grace Castiel?" The Doctor asks, looking between the screen and I. That must be why he keeps looking at me strangely.

"Heaven was closed up and the angels fell. My grace was stolen by another angel, thus making me human."

"All angels fell?" (Y/N) asks me, stepping forward slightly.

"The trials right?" The Doctor asks. I don't say anything but stand in silent shock. How could he know that? "I'll take your silence as a yes." He says before checking more equipment on the console.

"How the hell do you know so much?" Dean asks angrily, obviously getting annoyed at the man's vagueness about himself. "Who are you?"

"You haven't told them?" The girl asks with a shake of her head before leaning on the console.

"I'm getting to it." The doctor replies, waving his hands at her to stop leaning on the controls. "So I'm the Doctor. I'm a Timelord from the planet Gallifrey and I'm very old. I'm basically a madman with a box." He says quickly, seeming to be in a rush. Timelord? I've never heard of a Timelord or Gallifrey before. "Okay, you guys ready?"

"Ready? For what?" Sam asks the man.

"An adventure." The Doctor says with an excited glint in his eyes before pulling down a lever. Then the doors shut and the room lurches up slightly. The metallic thrumming noise is heard again from the centre console of the room and everyone immediately goes to hold onto something to stop themselves from falling down. Sam, Dean and I are still in shock whereas (Y/N) and the Doctor are just laughing giddily to themselves.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean shouts from beside me.

"Wait and see." (Y/N) says calmly. Once the room stops shaking, the Doctor and (Y/N), who seems to be a companion of sorts, walk out of the room and step out of the doors. "Come on guys." She calls to us. Looking at each other, we slowly walk out the TARDIS and are shocked to see that we've moved.

"What..." Sam says, not being able to think of a solution for our shift in space. Laughing, (Y/N) and the Doctor look at us all and just walk around the place, commenting on the different species of people around us. Apparently we are not on Earth anymore and are on a planet far away. The Doctor says he just wanted us to see something and felt random at the time. I get the feeling that this is a normal occurrence with him.

During the day, the three of us had become settled into the new enviroment, Sam asking the Doctor plenty of questions about the universe and Dean trying every food he came across. I went a separate way, following (Y/N) as she showed me plenty of different things from a variety of cultures.

"Hey Cas. You hungry?" She asked me as she pulled me towards a cafe of sorts. "This place has great food. You'll love it." For some reason, I felt a connection towards this human girl from the future. She was beautiful, but it was more than that. I felt like I'd known her my whole life.

"Yes. I am actually." I answered to which she just smiled a breathtaking smile and pulled me to a table near a water display of sorts.

"Any idea what you want?" She asked me and when I looked at the menu I had no idea. As an angel, I never required food, but now, as a human, it was needed to keep me alive. Shaking my head at her, she smiled and ended up ordering for the both of us. "You'll like it, I swear." She says to me before starting on her food once it had arrived. I copied her way of eating, with both hands, the strange yet delicious food. I hummed in delight at the food in my hands.

All day I had been getting to know (Y/N) better, both of us asking questions about the other. She was interested in the fact that I was once an angel as she said that she had never heard of my kind. "(Y/N), if you don't mind me asking, but why did you join the Doctor on his trips?" I anxiously asked, hoping I hadn't 'crossed a line' as Dean says.

"Why not?" She replies with a laugh. "I had nothing keeping me home and I saw an opportunity to see the stars. Plus, I couldn't not go. Who wouldn't want to see the whole of time and space?" Thankfully I hadn't upset her but I'm curious as to what she means by 'having nothing to keep her home'.

"Why wouldn't you have anything at home?" I ask quietly. Her face dropped and I immediately started to regret my question. "I... I'm sorry. Forget I asked." I hurriedly say before she cuts me off.

"No it's fine, Cas. Really..." She says before stopping for a second. "My parents gave me away when I was a child and I grew up in an orphanage with a bunch of other kids. I never had a real family and all I had when I was older was my job. I was a soldier in the army but I lost my friends and squad due to an attack and I couldn't carry on. So I left the army and met the Doctor. We've been travelling together ever since..." She says and my hand immediately finds hers. I don't know why, but her soft small delicate hand in mine feels right.

Smiling at her, I become lost in her eyes. Bright with happiness yet hurt from her past at the same time. A slap on my back brings me out of my thoughts, and I notice how I had unconsciously moved closer to her. Both of us jump away from the close proximity and I turn around to see the Doctor along with the Winchesters smiling at us knowingly.

"Well. As much fun as the day has been, you should probably get back. Come on. I'll take you three back home in the TARDIS now." The Doctor states before walking back to the blue box that brought (Y/N) to me.

Walking with Dean and Sam, the two ask me about (Y/N). "So what? You like her?" Dean asks with a grin.

"Maybe...I don't know." I answer but like isn't a strong enough word. There's just a connection between us two and I feel like she can see into my soul, if angels had one that is.

The two brothers laugh but quieten down by the time we arrive back at the TARDIS. All five of us enter the room and the Doctor immediately starts to set the controls to our time. The Winchesters and (Y/N) laugh about the differences between the present and the future as well as things they have seen today. The TARDIS starts making the same metallic thrumming noise and after a few seconds the Doctor opens the doors with a click of his fingers and I can see we are back where we started.

"Well. It was nice meeting you three. Today has been fun. If you ever have any alien trouble give me a call." The Doctor says before turning around to look at the screen once again.

"See ya Doc, Bye (Y/N)." Dean calls out with a wave before stepping out of the box.

"Yeah. Bye guys." Sam says before following his brother. Now I have to leave. I probably won't see her again.

"Goodbye Doctor. (Y/N)," I say, walking up to her where she is standing at the door saying goodbye to Sam and Dean. "I'll miss you. Goodbye." I reluctantly say before walking out of the box.

"Goodbye Castiel. I hope we meet again." She says with a smile and bright (E/C) eyes. She turns to close the door but I quickly grab her wrist.

"Stay with me." I ask her, wanting nothing more than to kiss her in that moment.

"I can't. I'm sorry. The Doctor... needs me. He can't be alone. It's not good for him." She answers, looking back at the Doctor worryingly. She told me how close the two were. Almost like brother and sister.

"Oh..." I say. Disappointment showing clearly on my face. "Well. Then I guess this is it." I reply, letting go of her wrist reluctantly. My hands already missing the contact.

She steps forward suddenly and grabs my face within her hands. She looms down at my lips before flitting her gaze to my ice blue eyes. I lean into her touch until I feel her soft lips brush against mine. I lose myself in the kiss, forgetting about the fact that I'll never see her again. My hands reach up to twist in her (H/L) (H/C) hair. After a minute we break apart.

She pulls away and steps backwards, back into the blue box behind her. "Goodbye Cas." She says with a sad smile that doesn't reach her eyes before closing the door between us. My shoulders visibly fall at that moment. Already missing the warmth I felt whenever she was near. After a few seconds the TARDIS starts humming that metallic noise and the wind around us starts to pick up slightly.

"Cas. You okay?" Dean asks me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"No. But she'll be happy with the Doctor. Seeing the stars." And with that I walked away, never forgetting the girl that stole my heart within a day. Hopefully I'll see her again...

#castielxreader #spn #xreaderinsert #castiel #castiel oneshot

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prairiedust · 5 years

Text

Red or Green? The literary and folk themes of Oroborous

Red or green is the official state question of New Mexico as ratified by the legislature in 1996. Order anything at any restaurant, even a burger in some places, and you’ll likely be asked “Red or green?” Do you want red chile sauce on your entree, or do you prefer green chile? The “state question” can sometimes reveal geographical origins-- red sauce is supposedly favored in the northern half of the state, while green is more popular in the south (I lived in the south, and you could easily get either one anywhere so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ .) The best green chiles are grown in the south, so maybe that has something to do with it-- like wine grapes, chiles from different parts of the state have different flavor profiles. Green chiles from the Hatch area are world famous.

But it’s important to remember that the sauces are made from the exact same fruit. The difference is all in the timing. Green chiles are harvested early, unripe, then roasted and chopped up and canned or put in the freezer, whereas red sauce is made from chiles that have been allowed to ripen fully and are then (typically) dried.

It’s all about timing. Let your chiles stay on the plant too long, and you miss your chance at the magical elixir that is green chile sauce.

Timing.

The sister stories of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty are, to a great extent, about timing. They are about waiting, about vigils, and about being at the right place at the right time-- or the exact wrong time.

(If you have not already read this rundown of Snow White in season 14, I suggest at least reading a few of the translations of the original folktales here or here. And cw the Sleeping Beauty story called Sun Moon and Talia is dark. I’ll be discussing the difference between the original material and the Disneyfied stories somewhat. Usual disclaimer that this is lit crit and not spec, why you ask, because I am a hundred years old is why.)

I want to say first that Steve Yockey in Ouroboros did a truly wonderful job allegorizing the story of Snow White, which has been teased for a while now. In the Grimms’ Snow White, as in other tales of that type, Snow White has been 1. run into the wilderness by her stepmother, B. taken in by a group of dwarfs, Three: then poisoned by that stepmother and fourthly laid to rest in a glass coffin. While the story has been poked at over the course of several episodes, Yockey sums it all up again in this one.

Dean-- along with the rest of TFW 2.0-- has been traipsing around New Mexico looking for a peculiar monster. Trope one. From the screen shot it looks like they’ve possibly been through Clovis, Roswell, Albuquerque, and finally made it up to Raton. As far as wildernesses and in-between places go, New Mexico is the most liminal state in the union-- many people in the country think it’s part of Mexico and if you think that’s a joke when I was a senior looking at colleges I had two well respected schools send me their foreign student applications. Roswell. AAAAaaaaahhhh Roswell. Roswell is the city that straddles reality and science fiction. They fry ice cream in New Mexico, they eat both ripe and unripe chiles there, and they have old mountain forests and arid white sand deserts within fifty miles of one another.

Another nod to the Snow White story is the Ma’lek Box that Dean mentions again-- B-- it can be seen as an allusion to Snow White’s glass coffin (in other versions, it is merely ornate or sometimes bedecked in rare gems but it is definitely something that she alone can not get out of… being dead and all...)

Finally, when the Gorgon knocks him out and Michael escapes, Sam tends Dean’s wounds while he is unconscious, which fulfills the traditional Snow White requirement for someone other than the king/prince to affect a physical change in the heroine’s state-- cutting off an enchanted dress or jostling the coffin so that the bite of poisoned apple can be coughed out-- in order to bring her back to life. Walt Disney and his studio added the “first love’s kiss” into the Snow White matrix in 1938, not even a century ago, but it quickly took over the narrative-- Disney also brings the story into a more accessible reality for modern viewers, he introduces the prince into the actual storyline earlier than in the folk tale, and then has him awaken her with The Kiss. Which do we, as an audience, prefer? The rabbit-hole of darker, more psychological Snow White tale types, or Disney’s recent and overwhelmingly iconic romantic reimagining?

Red or green?

Yockey gave us green, the version that has not ripened into what most people know as Snow White through the Disney cinematic behemoth.

The other duality in this episode is that we have Sleeping Beauty being referenced simultaneously with Snow White’s allegory.

Sleeping Beauty is Cas’ story and elements from that tale type can be seen in how the Gorgon stalks and overcomes his prey. The Gorgon uses sex to snare a human for consumption-- he says he’s an opportunist but that women have begun to be more cautious now that they are “waking up” from a long period of oppression. Sleeping Beauty’s deep sleep comes as the result of a symbolic sexual awakening-- in the more recent stories that awakening comes from the machinations of an enemy, so it is more a violation than a sudden innocent awareness. Where am I going with this? I don’t even know, this seems like it belongs in a different essay. What I’m trying to say is that the Gorgon uses sex to put people into a state of paralysis, and the evil fairy (known in the Disney movie as Maleficent) used a sexual metaphor to lure Briar Rose to her doom before she was ready for that kind of encounter. We are asked to contemplate the symbolic aspect of the Gorgon’s predation because he also uses a symbolic act-- eating eyeballs-- to see into the future and thus subvert the natural order of time.

In Sleeping Beauty, the evil crone/Maleficent also subverts the timeline by jumping place in line. She was not invited to the party in honor of the infant princess, but after nearly all of the other wise women have given Briar Rose their blessings, she breaks in to curse the baby. There is always one fairy left who, while not powerful enough to nullify the curse, can modify it to a deep sleep instead of death. In Ouroboros, TFW2 exploits the fact that Cas and Jack exist outside of the workings of Fate to defeat the Gorgon, but not without great cost.

Which brings us to The Wrong Kiss. I didn’t even want to meta the Sleeping Beauty stuff because of the kiss, seriously. So. What happens to Briar Rose is tragic, but in the three most famous versions of the story she comes out of her enchantment because a prince falls in love with her. Jack, here, as a result of Cas’ deal with the Empty, is no longer in the Sleeping Beauty story, he is not a Prince but a Giant-Killer once more, and the antidote he administers to counteract the Gorgon’s venom will not work. Once he activates his giant-killing powers, he can heal Castiel. (In the reciprocal, Cas is an agent of the SB story and the antidote works on the dude the Gorgon was about to eat because Cas administers it. It’s a very meta way of treating the folklore theme by both subverting it and keeping certain characters strictly within the parameters.)

Jack finally lives up to his name as a Giant-Killer when he takes out Michael. In Appalachian and English Jack Tales, Jack is always clever, sometimes to the point of unscrupulousness, but in the story Jack and the Beanstalk he is a naive picaro who betters his circumstances through reliance on his simple nature as much as his wits. Often “Jack” does not change as a result of his adventures, as most fairytale heroes do, but like many other mythological tricksters he operates outside the bounds of normal morality. Jack Kline has managed to hold onto his innocence despite initiation into the Winchester clan. Now that Jack has, presumably, burned off some large portion of his soul, it will be interesting to see how his picaresque nature might actually change. Because the story of Jack the Giant-Killer? Not the same story as Jack and the Beanstalk. The Giant-Killer is the story of a deadly clever young man who defeats several giants as well as Lucifer using mainly his wits and is afterward given a place on King Arthur’s Round Table. The story in its entirety borrows from Cornish, Welsh, and Briton mythology, echoing other simple folktales as well as hearkening to high heroes of the Mabinogi. Jack has become larger than life. (AN I started this before Peace of Mind, I’ll get to that one by the end of the season maybe :P )

In a less meta sense of course, this episode is one huge mythological allusion-- Cas refers to Dean’s imprisonment of Michael as a “herculean” feat, the MOTW is a Gorgon (and traditionally gorgons were a trio of cursed sisters in Greek legends,) and Dean enthusiastically references the 1981 Clash of the Titans film twice. In a /more/ meta vein, Andrew Dabb quotes the more recent Titans movie in a tweet on this ep’s airdate. I find that exciting because the story of Perseus in CotT features a descent into the underworld, and again while I flirt with speculation here I would REALLY like to see these nerds freaking raid the Empty.

As for Snow White and Sleeping Beauty now? Red or green?

It feels as though the Snow White story has possibly been tied up and tucked away now, solving the riddle of the “red or green” sister stories. Michael, Dean’s evil rival, is dead. Pretty sure. Whether his grace is contaminated and will have an adverse effect on Jack remains to be seen. See drsilverfish’s lovely analysis of the oroborous symbolism in the last two episodes for more discussion about what it means for Jack to have consumed Michael’s grace. But. Unless there is a Ghost of AU!Michael coming up, he’s gone.

We are left, however, with Cas’ deal with the Empty-- he gets to operate under normal parameters as long as he does not exceed the minimum threshold of happiness (and I want it to be an accidental or unexpected moment, unlike a lot of meta writers, but then that isn’t spec it’s just what I hope for.) And what does that mean for destiel subtext? I don’t know. Honestly, this is a little too intense for me, I am not “canon positive” or “endgame positive” and this episode freaked me out. Analytically, though, it places the subtext at a really interesting place. It means the princess who gets rescued from an enchanted doom is still on the loose, still avoiding Fate, and the prince is still out there having Adventures in the Woods. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#the folklore of supernatural #snow white #sleeping beauty #sister stories #spn meta #the title of the next episode is killgingg me

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team-free-will-oneshots · 5 years

Text

Friends

Title: Friends

Request/Prompt: Alright so I’ve had this idea on my mind for a while and would love to see it in writing but if you don’t want to then don’t worry about it. Sam and Dean are on a hunt with Cas when they all get captured. The boys ask Cas what to do and he’s like “Hold on a second. Let me pray.” And they’re wondering why he’s doing that. So he starts praying to some person named (Y/N) And lo and behold, an angel appears and saved them. When they’re safe, the boys are like “Who the crap is this?”And she’s like “I’m (Y/N).” Then Cas says “She’s my twin.” And they’re shocked but eventually get over it and she sticks around and is like Cas when he first came down and is very blunt and literal. She warms up slowly and a while later they’re all chilling and they mention something about her being such a great friend and she’s like “We’re friends?” And they say some fluffy stuff and yea. (Sorry it’s so long and please feel free to change whatever you need to!) Thanks! - @not-zari-tak

Pairing: Platonic TFW x female angel!reader

Warnings: I mean I guess violence a little ?? (angel smiting, nothing graphic)

Word Count: 1,922

note; here you go! I hope I did your idea justice, it was super fun to write! :)

_____

This was certainly not a part of the plan.

They were outnumbered - Sam and Dean were bound with rope in the corner, whilst Castiel was trapped in a burning ring of holy fire. Its flames leapt towards the roof of the abandoned warehouse, sending showers of sparks through the air that eventually found their home scattered across the gravel strewn ground. Three demons looked on glee - finally, they had achieved the unachievable.

“The infamous Winchesters,” one sneered, eyes flitting to black as he sauntered forwards with a taunting smirk. “At last, your time has run out.”

“We’ll be rewarded for your demise,” another chimed in, her blonde hair matted with blood as she wielded a curved, threatening blade. “The forces of Heaven and Hell combined couldn’t stop you or your… feathered friend-” she cast Castiel a disgusted glance - “but us? We’ll go down in history, conquerors of the unconquerable.”

“Who knows,” the third added with a sly glance, “we might even preside over your torture. What, you don’t think you’ll make it upstairs, do you? After everything you’ve done?”

Sam and Dean shared a solemn glance, each of them searching the other’s eyes in hopes that someone had a plan. They were disappointed, and as the demons turned away in discussion, Dean looked to Castiel.

“Cas. Please tell me you have an idea, cos I don’t see a way out of this,” he said urgently, keeping his tone low.

Cas considered his words gravely, mind running through all potential possibilities and crossing them, one by one, off the list of options. He was left with one recourse, a desperate one at that. He hadn’t spoken to her in years… could he get through to her? Would she even care? So much had changed since they’d last spoken…

But it was their only option.

“There’s… one possibility,” Castiel replied cautiously. “But I don’t know…”

“Cas, we’re kinda outta options here, buddy,” Sam interjected lightly, though his eyes betrayed a hint of panic at their predicament. Cas set his jaw, staring ahead as he nodded.

“I understand. Just a moment,” he excused, turning away from the brothers and closing his eyes. “Y/N…” he murmured, “if you can hear me, I know it’s been a while, but… I need a favour.”

“Who’s he talking to?” Dean hissed in confusion to Sam, who shrugged. The sudden fluttering of wings echoed through the space, and all three men span around in search of the noise’s source.

“Castiel. You called?”

---

You hadn’t spoken to your brother in what felt like years - his rebellion had turned Heaven on its head, a chaos only perpetuated by the Fall, and you spent most of your time struggling to find order in the mayhem. You’d look down on him whenever you had a spare moment, but he’d never reached out to you, and so you had kept yourself busy and distant, under the impression that Cas had all but forgotten you in favour of his new… acquaintances.

But when you heard his voice echo around your mind in a desperate plea, you found yourself itching to respond to his call. He must truly be in trouble to call on you, and despite your years of separation, you couldn’t find it within yourself to let your brother find pain when you could prevent it, or at least try to.

And so, you answered, immediately appearing in the warehouse you had tracked your twin to. It was warm and clogged with smoke from holy fire, the metal walls trapping the heat like an industrial oven. You saw the three demons a few metres ahead, their souls twisted and disfigured beneath their human meatsuits. Your lip curled in disgust, but before you could take care of them, you turned to your brother who was trapped within the flames.

“Castiel. You called?”

He turned to you immediately, a small smile crossing his face as he saw you for the first time in far too long, though the passing of time was but a blink of an eye to beings such as yourselves.

“Y/N,” he greeted, nodding in acknowledgment. The two men tied up in the corner jumped at your sudden appearance, turning to you with eyes widened in curiosity and betraying a touch of fear.

“You must be the Winchester brothers,” you said with a nod. “You’ve stirred quite a fuss of late.”

At last, the demons appeared to register your presence, spinning around with mouths etched into snarls.

“What are you doing here, angel?” one spat. “Run along home before you join your friend in the flames!”

A demure smile crossed your lips as you stalked forward leisurely, eyeing them with a predatory curiosity, not unlike a cat observing its prey. You tilted your head in amusement. “You think you can trap me so easily?” you scoffed. “Wow, I knew demons weren’t the brightest, but it seems this might be even easier than I first thought.”

You felt your eyes burning with your grace, and the demons winced at the light, stumbling away. “Now, now, there’s no need to fear,” you told them mockingly, moving forwards until they were trapped against a wall. You gently rested a hand on one’s forehead, and with an anguished scream, it fell as you smited it. The other two were quick to follow, and once the threat was vanquished, you waved your hand breezily and extinguished the flames trapping Castiel to his small patch of floor. He was quick to assist the Winchesters in attaining their freedom, and the two brothers turned to you warily.

“And who the hell are you?” Dean demanded, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you charming? I knew humans weren’t as polite as they once were, but I certainly expected at least a thank you,” you said icily. Castiel bowed his head in respect.

“Thank you, Y/N. Sam, Dean, this is my sister. I suppose she could be considered my twin.”

Sam raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “Angels can have twins?”

“We were created simultaneously, and we’ve been informed on numerous occasions that our true forms hold a certain likeness to one another,” you informed him. “No matter - your human terms are irrelevant to me. Castiel is my brother, and now that he is safe, I should be leaving,” you said bluntly.

“Wait!” Castiel objected, and you looked at him questioningly. “Stay. You can come to the bunker with us. We can... catch up.”

You frowned. “Catch what?”

Cas opened his mouth to answer, but Dean cut him off. “Hey! You can’t just spring this on us and expect us to roll with it,” he exclaimed defensively. “We’ve known you for… how long now? And you never once mentioned a twin - that seems like the kind of thing that should come up! How do we know we can trust her? You said yourself it’s ‘been a while’, you weren’t even sure she’d come! Why didn’t you mention this?”

You shot Dean a cold stare, whilst Cas looked on patiently. “To be honest, I thought she was dead,” he said softly, staring at you sadly. “After the fall…” He trailed off, eyes gazing mistily into the distance.

“I would have come if you’d only called!” you spat. “You’re my brother, Castiel. Would it have hurt for you to check in on me? I certainly checked in on you!”

“You’ve watched over me?” Cas asked in surprise, and you huffed in annoyance.

“Of course I have. You’re my brother,” you replied gruffly. “I deduced you’d stopped caring after replacing me with your new friends - the least you could have done was call on me after making the mess you left me behind to clean up!”

Cas bowed his head, eyes wounded. “I’m truly sorry, Y/N. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me.”

You huffed again. “Don’t be so foolish. You were forgiven the moment you contacted me,” you muttered. Your tone softened as you recalled his words. “Do you truly want me to stay?”

Dean and Sam were glancing between the two of you in bewilderment, hesitant to interrupt you and your brother’s argument.

“I do,” Cas said solemnly. “If Dean will allow it.” He glanced pointedly at the man, who cleared his throat and shrugged.

“I guess… since you saved us… only because Cas trusts you!” he eventually relented, shooting you a warning glance. Sam smiled at you warmly. At least one of the two had some semblance of etiquette.

“Then stay I shall,” you announce, “though I shan’t stay long. Heaven is still in shambles, and someone needs to tend to it.”

With this lingering in your mind, the four of you squeezed into the Impala and headed to the bunker.

---

Living with humans was… interesting, particularly since Sam and Dean seemed to both refute all knowledge you had of humans, whilst simultaneously displaying the most humanity you had ever encountered.

They lived the opposite of an ordinary lifestyle - not many humans lived in a secret underground bunker and hunted monsters for a living, or so you assumed - and yet, their incessant bickering, their exemplification of empathy, even their board game nights and their laughter all contributed to a sense of homeliness and familiarity that you had never felt before, not even in Heaven itself. You were starting to see why Castiel enjoyed their company.

It took them some time to warm up to you, and you to them, but eventually you found yourself helping them not out of obligation, but of desire. You wanted to see them happy, fulfilled, and after some time, you realised that they, too, seemed to care about you, a sensation that was altogether unfamiliar.

“Hey, Y/N, beer?” Dean offered as he headed to the kitchen. He, you, Cas and Sam were having a “movie marathon”, and though you didn’t quite grasp the ‘marathon’ aspect considering it mostly involved reclining lazily on various pieces of furniture, you found yourself enjoying the experience.

“No, thank you,” you said politely, turning back to the enthralling conversation you were having with Sam regarding your knowledge of ancient literature that seemed to endlessly fascinate him.

“You mean some texts survived the burning of Alexandria?” he asked eagerly, and you nodded.

“Of course - I saved some of my favourites, it would be in poor taste to let them perish,” you informed him. “I could lend you them, if you’d like.”

Sam’s eyes shone with awe. “Wow. You’re a great friend, Y/N.”

You stiffened at his fond words. “We’re… friends?” you asked meekly, and Sam nodded vigorously.

“Of course!” he exclaimed, and Dean affirmed this as he re-entered the room.

“Duh, you’ve saved our lives enough times that we’d be pretty stupid to call you anything but a friend now,” he noted. “Besides, you’re actually fun to hang out with. Unlike some people,” he said, casting a withering stare at Sam, who narrowed his eyes at his brother.

“Ha ha, very funny. Seriously though, Y/N - didn’t you realise we considered you a friend?”

You felt yourself blush, and Sam smiled at your antics affectionately. “Well, I- I wasn’t sure. Friendship is a… new concept for me. I like it, though,” you added hastily.

“Well, good, cos you’re not getting rid of us anytime soon,” Dean said.

“I’ll cheers to that,” Sam agreed, clinking his can with Dean’s. You turned to Castiel, who had been a silent observer. You gave him a smile.

“I can see why you rebelled, now. This? This is worth it.”

#team free will #tfw #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #team free will x reader #tfw x reader #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #team free will imagine #tfw imagine #reader insert #angel!reader #supernatural one shot #spn oneshot #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert

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fallenqueen2 · 5 years

Text

Like Legends Chapter 9-Final [Shadowhunters/Supernatural]

Alec has a past that not even his siblings know about and he had put it out of his mind for years. When a vision comes to him one night he is dragged back into a different world of Shadows.

Like Legends Ao3 Link

Magnus was basking in Alec’s presence and how easily the other melted into his embrace when the Warlock gently ran his fingers through Alec’s new wings and straightened out some crooked ones. Alec was all but curled up between Magnus’ legs with his head resting on Magnus’ chest, head tucked under the older man’s chin.

“Well isn’t this just the cutest thing,” Gabriel cooed as the group re-entered the loft, pleased smiles on all their faces at the sight before them.

“Shut up Gabe,” Alec blushed and his wings curled around him and Magnus like a protective cocoon.

“So were you ever planning on telling us about all of this?” Izzy asked, narrowing her eyes at her older brother who was peering out at them through the gold-tipped feathers.

“No?” Alec offered up lightly and Izzy made an offended noise in the back of her throat.

“Their world and our world aren’t meant to collide if it wasn’t for an issue with a portal I never would have met Gabriel and been introduced to their world. I was supposed to go to Idris for the summer, but instead, I ended up at some college in the middle of America at Gabriel’s feet. He knew I was a Shadowhunter before I even spoke and he took me in when I realized I couldn’t make contact with anyone.” Alec said softly as Magnus’ fingers found his. Gabriel smiled at the reminder of how the two first met; it was an interesting time, to say the least.

“Well, you can tell us now, right? I mean how did you even get involved with Angels of all things!” Jace exclaimed.

“Speaking of, these two have the feeling that is different than normal Shadowhunters.” Gabriel squinted at Jace and Clary.

“My insane father injected both of us with angel blood he stole before we were born,” Clary said, annoyance coloring her voice.

“He’s dead so no need to go on a rampage Gabe,” Alec spoke up cutting off the anger that was appearing on Gabriel’s face.

“Ruin all my fun,” Gabriel pouted.

“So how did you guys meet my big brother?” Izzy wanted answers so she was going to get them as she spun to face Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Jack.

“We met Alec at a hotel when Lucifer came to kill the Pagan Gods,” Sam said giving Gabriel a look because that was the night they thought Lucifer killed Gabriel.

“Pagan Gods,” Clary said faintly, obviously not ready to hear that.

“Instead we ended up with this skinny little tattooed kid kicking and screaming about how we couldn’t leave Gabe behind.” Dean chuckled as he winked at Alec who flushed at the reminder of how they met. Sam had literally tossed him over his shoulder and ran out with him, Alec was very glad he had a growth spurt soon after.

“I’m still mad at you for that, letting me believe you were dead.” Alec shot a glare at Gabriel who held his hands up in surrender.

“I made a deal with the brothers over there, they were to keep my kid safe and bring him back home to New York before Lucifer could find him,” Gabriel explained and Alec absently rubbed at his chest when Lucifer’s name was said.

“Alexander? What did Lucifer do to you?” Magnus asked softly, taking Alec’s hand in his own and resting them against Alec’s chest.

“We had just gotten into the city limits of New York when he found us. He sent Sam, Dean and Castiel flying across the motel room and… He shoved his hand into my chest, intending to take my very soul because I was a Shadowhunter; he thought it would give him a different kind of power. Instead, he was shocked by the Grace Gabriel had left inside of me, sort of like a trap.” Alec explained, wincing at the memory of being pinned against the wall of that motel room with Lucifer’s hand in his chest, feeling like he was dying.

“Which was genius of me if I do say so myself. I had no idea that it would stay behind once it attacked Lucifer though. It should have left your body, not slowly burn you from the inside.” Gabriel said remorsefully.

“No one expected it Gabe, Angelic Grace and Shadowhunter DNA isn’t something that was supposed to mix.” Alec shrugged like it was something that wasn’t avoidable.

“So what was Alec like when he was a teen?” Clary asked, eager to know more and to get off the topic of Alec almost dying.

“The biggest bookworm you’d ever meet. He was so eager to know everything and then some! These two wouldn’t stop talking even if they were falling asleep on their feet.” Dean jerked his thumb at Sam with a smirk on his lips.

“Dean,” Alec whined while Sam rolled his eyes fondly.

“That I can only imagine,” Magnus said kissing the top of Alec’s head lovingly as his Angel shifted closer. Alec and Magnus looked at the others confused when they suddenly froze, even the nearby clock stopped ticking.

Alec stiffened and leaped up out of his place between Magnus’ legs and his wings flared out to their full length, hiding Magnus from sight like he was protecting the Warlock from something.

“This is fascinating,” A middle-aged man with grey curly hair stood mere paces from Alec, looking at the Shadowhunter with interest in his eyes. Magnus paled as he realized he couldn’t even sense this man inside of his apartment; he could sense the damn Archangel mere feet away but not this man.

“…God,” Alec breathed out in realization, his wings standing on end and golden eyes and runes pulsing. Magnus felt the glamour covering his cat eyes twinge and he realized that Alec was right; this man was God, he had to be.

“Alexander Lightwood, you are fascinating in so many ways,” God said as he scanned every inch of Alec’s tense form.

“I had no idea that by nudging you in Gabriel’s direction that this would be the outcome,” God said as he came closer and Magnus plastered himself to Alec’s back, not sure what else to do. He knew he couldn’t take on God but he was willing to try for his Alexander.

“You’re the one who messed with that portal so I would end up with Gabriel,” Alec said as his shoulders lifted up, wings twitching at the action.

“I wanted to see what would happen if one of my children met one with angel blood from Raziel’s Shadowhunters. I will admit this I did not see coming, but it makes sense.” God carried on and Alec bared his teeth as he realized he had been used by God of all things to see what would happen if two parts of the Shadow world collided.

“Well, I hope it’s been entertaining.” Alec snarked and God just let out a laugh as he looked at Alec with shining eyes.

“Oh, it has been, however, if I knew that Gabriel giving you some of his Grace to protect you from Lucifer would have stayed with you for this long and burn you from the inside I would have stepped in sooner,” God admitted as his eyes slid over the tense wings that were still protecting Magnus.

“Heaven is shutting down, shouldn’t you be there fixing that?” Alec shot back, arms crossing over his chest as his Head of the Institute voice took over.

“I don’t need to, I just need something from you and Heaven will be powered for decades and decades to come,” God stated as he moved closer and Magnus felt his magic light up in his veins with the urge to protect his Alexander.

“What’s the price?” Alec asked as he watched as God stepped closer to him and Magnus.

“You go back to being a normal Shadowhunter, that’s it. No strings attached.” God promised as his eyes flickered over to look at Magnus who was behind Alec’s wings.

“Just keep doing what you are doing and improve the relationship with your Clave and Downworlder’s. It’s what you were born to do Alexander Lightwood and you are doing a marvelous job so far, your soul mate will be at your side as you will be at his.” God assured Alec and Magnus felt his heart miss a beat at the final sentence.

“Soul mate?” Alec whispered as his hand reached back to grab at Magnus’ hand.

“That’s the closest human term that makes sense for what your souls are to each other.” God waved his hand dismissively like it wasn’t a big deal.

“I can live with that,” Alec said softly as he looked over his shoulder at Magnus who just smiled back, glamour down and cat eyes on full display.

“Excellent, now step forward Alexander Lightwood. I apologize in advance; this will not be pleasant and may bring up some memories of that encounter with Lucifer.” God warned briefly before he shoved a glowing hand into Alec’s chest. Magnus let out a noise of shock and alarm as Alec cried out, sinking to his knees as his wings flared and shook.

God’s face was set firmly as the point where his hand disappeared into Alec’s chest glowed brightly. Slowly Alec’s wings faded away like they were an illusion, the golden glow of his eyes and runes dimmed and flickered before they returned to their natural colors. Alec let out a shaky gasp when God removed his hand and slumped back into Magnus’ waiting arms. Alec panted for air as he looked up to see a glowing ball of golden light hovering mere inches above God’s palm.

“This will provide power to Heaven for a good while, thank you Alexander Lightwood. Heaven will not forget this, but I am afraid you all will.” God looked remorseful and Alec tried to sit up but he was exhausted and all he could do was fall back into Magnus’ embrace. Suddenly the rest of the world came back to life and only Castiel and Gabriel’s arms flying out stopped the Shadowhunters from attacking. Sam shoved Jack behind his back protectively, eyeing God warily and Jack merely stayed silent and peered over Sam’s shoulder the best he could.

“What do you mean?” Alec asked as he clutched at Magnus’ hand.

“This connection between Gabriel and Alexander was an experiment, a means to an end really. It was not meant to go this far, by having your worlds so entwined now it leaves Earth open for more powerful evils than any of you have faced. Your fates were not meant to be entwined in such a way and it is something I have to fix.” God said, voice sad as he looked at Gabriel and Alec.

“You want to take our memories,” Alec realized as he clung to Magnus’ hand like a lifeline.

“Altered but essentially yes,” God said he lifted his free hand, that sad look still on his face.

“Father, don’t please!” Gabriel begged as he stepped forward, not ready to lose Alec again.

“You can’t do this!” Alec stood up, a fierce look on his face as he strode towards God.

“I’m afraid I can,” God said as he allowed Alec to get into his personal space.

“If you take away our memories, you will be destroying parts of all of us that make us who we are now. The people apparently we are meant to become. You take away my time with Gabriel, with the Winchesters, hell even with Lucifer then you will destroy the parts of me that wants to make a difference.” Alec snarled, standing and talking like an avenging Angel even with his wings and golden eyes gone.

“…You truly are something different Alexander Lightwood,” God mused as he looked around the room.

“If it wasn’t for Gabriel, for Magnus, for all of them I wouldn’t be,” Alec said firmly.

“…I will leave all of your memories intact on one condition Alexander Lightwood.” God said slowly and the room grew tense.

“Name it,”

“Your problems do not mix together, there is no calling in each other for backup, nothing. Your world and theirs stay separate.” God stated and Alec felt a shudder of relief go through his body.

“Deal, it would be a hassle to explain all of this to the Clave, they wouldn’t take it well anyways.” Alec held his hand out to seal the deal.

“You are something else Alexander Lightwood,” God laughed as he took the offered hand, shaking it once before he disappeared.

“Oh Angel,” Alec whispered as he collapsed back against Magnus, all the tension gone from his body.

“You are one crazy son of a bitch,” Dean said in awe as Alec smiled shakily up at them.

“Don’t ever change Alec,” Jace laughed as he leaned against Clary in relief that was spread across the room. Gabriel wiped his forehead of sweat, he had no idea how that was going to go but he was relieved his father had seen Alec’s reasoning.

~~/~~

“So you will keep in contact?” Jack asked Alec from where he was wrapped around the taller man.

“Of course, God said we couldn’t help each other not that we couldn’t keep in contact.” Alec hugged the floppy-haired man back.

“I’ll keep working on my eggs and next time we will eat them while we watch more of the Marvel movies!” Jack said cheerfully when their hug broke and Alec messed up his hair playfully.

“Sounds like a plan,” Alec said softly as Castiel moved forward and the two shook hands.

“Thank you, Alec,” Castiel said in that stoic tone of his.

“Let’s just not do it again anytime soon,” Alec joked lightly.

“We will try not to,” Castiel said gravely and Alec chuckled fondly at the gruff angel.

“Get over here, I’m gonna miss you kid.” Dean pulled Alec into a hug that was returned just as tightly.

“Take it, easy Dean,” Alec said as he patted the man’s back a few times before their hug broke.

“Keep in contact Alec,” Sam said as he engulfed Alec into a bear hug, cupping the back of Alec’s head as he did.

“You too,” Alec’s words were muffled by Sam’s shoulder before they broke apart and Sam clapped Alec on the shoulder with a smile.

“Thank you for taking care of my brother,” Izzy was hugging a shocked Gabriel who quickly returned the hug.

“He didn’t make it easy,” Gabriel winked when Alec made an offended noise in the back of his throat making Izzy laugh loudly.

“No popping into the Institute yeah? I do not want to have to explain that.” Alec sighed before allowing Gabriel to pull him in for a tight hug.

“No promises Alec,” Gabriel did not get emotional, he didn’t the loft was just dusty was all.

“I’m going to miss you, Gabe,” Alec said quietly as Gabriel let a warm pulse of his Grace wash over the Shadowhunter and it felt like home to Alec.

“You too kiddo, but we’ll get out of your hair as I’m sure you and your boyfriend want to properly reunite.” Gabriel winked.

“What does that mean?” Jack asked innocently as he turned to look at Sam and Dean.

“Oh boy,” Dean rubbed his forehead while Sam glared at Gabriel who just wiggled his fingers with a wink of his eyes and a flutter of feathers was heard and the group was gone.

“That was exhausting,” Clary exclaimed as she plopped down onto the couch, Izzy and Jace joining her looking just as exhausted.

“Tell me about it,” Alec fought back a yawn as Magnus curled his arm around his waist, holding his boyfriend to his side.

“We’ll talk some more in the morning, let’s all get some rest,” Magnus ordered as he began to pull Alec towards the bedroom.

“Sleep only Angel, you’re too exhausted for anything else,” Magnus promised as he snapped his fingers, taking Alec’s clothes sans his boxers from his body and helped his boyfriend into their bed.

“I love you, Magnus, I don’t know what I would do without you and I don’t want to find out,” Alec said as his eyes slid shut and nuzzled the golden pillow that was resting on.

“I feel the same way Alexander,” Magnus said softly as he settled on the bed, fingers brushing Alec’s dark hair off his forehead tenderly. Alec fell asleep with a content smile on his face, knowing that he had the man he loved back in his life and his oldest friend was finally safe and back with people who cared about him made his descent into sleep easier.

#Like Legends #shadowhunters #supernatural #alec lightwood centric #Malec makeup #gabriel and alec are old friends #God is kind of a dick #surprising #angel hybrid alec #fallenqueen2

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spootiliousrps · 5 years

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Repost for a follower

@alien-space-loser

You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like Sabriel.

Stranger: ((Reverse!Verse - Gabriel and Castiel are hunters, Sam and Dean are angels)) So, this was not how Gabriel had expected his day to go. But, when it came to angels, all bets were off anyway. After what had to be half a dozen apocalypses he’d fought together with his brother - certainly enough to make him exasperated that he actually had cause to ponder he plural of ‘apocalypse’ - perhaps it would have been a logical assumption that he’d learned from his mistakes. But, apparently not. Dean had been with them since the beginning; nothing was about to deter the guy from mooning over Castiel like some sort of lovesick winged puppy. Which Gabriel had finally come to terms with, after much bitching. But Sam? Sam was… difficult. Sam was in the ‘not-quite-an-ally’ category; an untested variable who could just as easily screw them over as help them. So, naturally, as was his way, Gabriel had thrown himself full-force at the problem, and summoned the angel to a ring of holy fire. Which, he was beginning to realise, had probably been a bad idea. Who knew?

You: [reading

You: ]

Stranger: ((Thanks!))

You: [[Fair warning… My Angel!Sam is both a little rusty and kind of an ass at time but here it goes…]]

Stranger: ((Ahh, don’t worry about it at all! :D))

You: Sam Winchester, Angel of the Lord and Protector of Earth… was trapped. It was pretty embarrassing, actually. He had been there when God created the heavens and yet here he was surrounded by flaming oil as he stared down the human before him. Granted, it was a Novak but it still stung. He had kept an eye on the brothers long enough to had thought he knew all of their tricks. It wasn’t that he was concerned about them but about his brother’s fascination with the younger one. Angels who fell in love with human were doomed to a torture that even Hell couldn’t recreate. He had made his disapproval known but Dean was stubborn. Still, when the human’s turned on them he had expected it to be Castiel… not the fun loving elder brother. Lightening struck outside the window of the warehouse they stood in, his anger flaring. His power might be contained by the trap he had found himself but he still had some effect on the world around them… especially when he was in a bit of a temper. “Release me, now; or I won’t hesitate to slaughter both you and your brother.” He warned flatly, pinning the man, who was small even for a human, with a look that obviously meant business.

Stranger: Gabriel had an excellent pokerface. It was one of his best assets, honestly - in actual poker, and in situations such as this one. To his credit, he only flinched a tiny amount when the crack of lightning striking far too close for comfort sounded outside. He shifted his weight a little, folded his arms over his chest, and gave his best sardonically raised eyebrow in response to the outburst of temper. “I mean, I will. Eventually.” He assured the angel, tilting his head a little to the side for a brief second. “I mean, assuming I’m going to avoid the whole ‘slaughter’ thing, because that’s really not much of an incentive for-“ He cut himself off. Maybe running his mouth wasn’t wise, here.

You: “For a Novak.” Sam finished for him, his gaze following ever movement the man made. “Oh, but it will be.” He explained as if talking to a child. “You and your brother may have found numerous ways to break out of hell but neither of you have stepped foot into heaven.” Sam explained, his honey gaze turning to a gold glow, his power itching to get out. “Of course, you won’t be joining the other souls… I’ll make sure of that.” He stepped forward, the circle just large enough for him to walk along the edge without being burned. “I don’t like being trapped Gabriel… And I tend to hold a grudge.” He added, gaze following his foot falls. “Tell me what you want and make it quick.”

Stranger: Gabriel had to admit to himself that the ethereal glow of Sam’s eyes set something twisting in his gut. Trepidation, possibly, because he was under no illusions just how powerful this guy was. And pissing him off? Yeah, probably not the most effective way to convince him to join the cause. Why had he thought this was a good idea, again? He watched the angel prowl around the trap, eyes fixed on him, and licked his lips fleetingly before speaking again. “Look, I’m not trying to invoke your holy wrath, or anything. And as sweet as a stairway to heaven sounds, I’m planning on going a few more rounds before I do finally check out, so…” He cleared his throat. “I just wanted to ask you a few questions, that’s all. I figured this was probably the best way to make sure you wouldn’t immediately leave. Or smite me.”

You: Sam’s harsh gaze shot up almost instantly at the mention of questions, his eyes almost piercing into Gabriel’s souls. Had Dean hinted to the human what Sam’s weaknesses were? Had his brother betrayed him? No. He couldn’t have. Still… Sam’s curiosity always won. He tilted his head to one side as if considering his options. Despite the fact that he practically hated the Novaks… they had knowledge he wanted. He was one of the most successful scholars in all of heaven, if Gabriel had discovered that fact then it wouldn’t be a surprise that he was using it against him. The question was, was Sam willing to risk it? “Very well.” He stated after a moment, turning to face him completely. “I will answer a few of your questions but my answers will be conditional and you must accept the answers I provide.” He warned, the lightening that had struck once more only moments before had begun to fade, along with the storm that had been raging.

Stranger: Now that was an interesting reaction. Not scorn or derision or outrage. Which was… progress. Probably. Gabriel’s eyes flickered to the window, noting the storm beginning to wane beyond the glass. Okay. Good signs. He soon turned his attention back to Sam, though, brows drawing together as he worked to decipher that response. “Fair enough.” He said slowly. And, damn, he hadn’t exactly planned this far ahead. Where to start? Well, there was Dean. That was a safe beginning point, he could springboard from there. “Um. What do you really think about your brother working with us?”

You: Sam grimaced at the question, an answer in itself, still he spoke. “It is his assigned duty. Which is why I have not interfered.” Sam provided, giving a half answer. It wasn’t that Dean was working with the human’s that made his grace crawl, it was the angel’s feelings towards them that bothered him. “Now, it is my turn. An answer for an answer.” He explained. “Is your brother some sort of witch?” He asked simply. He was almost certain that the man was not but could not fathom any other way Dean could have fallen for a human beyond sorcery.

Stranger: Gabriel refrained from pointing out that Sam hadn’t actually answered his question about how he /felt/ - but his tactful rewording of the question was derailed entirely by the angel’s response. He stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded as to how he’d even come to that conclusion. “I… what? No, obviously not.” He scoffed. His brows drew together in incredulity as he stared at the angel. “Why would you think so? That’s a stretch, man, even for you.”

You: Sam gave a hum at the other man’s answer, as if considering it before accepting Gaberial’s second question. “I have me reasons. Many of which are sound.” He replied with another half-answer. “My turn.” He pointed out. “Has Castiel given Dean anything that you are aware of? Anything; even something as mundane as food.” He asked, moving back to the center of the circle and sitting down, cross legged on the concrete floor; signaling that this might take a while.

Stranger: Gabriel was starting to think he’d never get a straight answer out of this guy. The disbelief remained in his gaze when the angel settled himself in the middle of the circle, apparently content to remain there for some time. Which was an improvement on the impromptu lightning storm, so he wasn’t about to complain. Still, standing over him felt weird, so he turned to drag a crate from one edge of the room in front of the flames, perching himself on top of it. The angel’s next question was as baffling as the last, and he blinked before shaking his head. “I don’t know, maybe?” He guessed. “I mean, I guess we’ve introduced him to the joys of human food and crappy beer. He likes pie.” He added helpfully with a shrug. “So yes, I guess so.”

You: Sam pursed his lips but nodded, deep in thought over the answer. Silence fell for a moment before he glanced up at the human and arched a brow. “You’re next question.” He pointed out. He had a very long list of his own and though he knew getting through all of them would take some time he was not prepared to wait on the other man if at all possible. He did study him in that moment however, taking note of the sandy hair that was so different from his brothers and the deep gaze that signaled a life far longer than his own.

Stranger: Gabriel watched the angel for a handful of seconds more before he huffed and dragged a hand through his hair. Well, at least he wasn’t exactly giving away state secrets, here. But he wasn’t getting much in return, either. Maybe it was time for a more direct approach. “What do you think about us? Me and Cas?” He held up his hand quickly, adding; “And I know what Heaven in general thinks, thanks very much. I’m talking about you specifically.”

Stranger: ((Just in case I pass out, my email is ************@gmail.com if you wanna continue. It’s nearly 2am here, but I’m on night shift tomorrow so I’m trying to make myself stay awake!))

You: Sam arched a brow but gave a small shrug. “I do not see how that is relevant but I’ll play along.” He admitted softly. “Besides currently wanting you dead for entrapping me; I do not trust either of you. Your brother is the more level headed out of the two of you but he is too soft hearted for the tasks you face. You are immature and unreliable but necessary. You are… curious.” He added after a moment. “While his motive are… worrisome.” His brows furrowed in thought but he brushed it aside before offering his own question. “Is your brother talented with potions or the like?”

You: [[10-4. I can understand that. Mine is *********@gmail.com. Just so you know as well.]]

Stranger: ((Awesome)) The sardonic eyebrow was back. Sam was one to talk about irrelevant questions. But this time, he at least got a more satisfactory answer. That was… blunt, but refreshingly honest. And okay, he could work with that. There were some trust issues to work on, but he had a lifetime of practice with those. “I really don’t know where you’ve got the idea that Cas is some sort of Hogwarts prodigy.” He deadpanned. “For the record, he sucks at potions. If ever we have to do spell stuff for a hunt - which is are, by the way - that’s my job. He’s too practical.” Which didn’t exactly translate, he was aware, but he didn’t much care. “Why are you so suspicious of him, anyway?”

Stranger: ((*which is rare))

You: Sam’s glare returned. He wasn’t prepared to answer that question. Still, if Castiel was as Gabriel said then he wasn’t what Sam should be concerned with. Perhaps, Gabriel was the one poisoning his brother’s mind? But what could he gain from their brothers’ relationship? “I am no longer suspicious of Dean.” He answered honestly to the question, narrowly avoiding giving to much information to the man. “What is your intentions with my brother?” He asked plainly.

Stranger: Gabriel had honestly never wanted to facepalm so hard in his life. He had a feeling the gesture would have been lost on the angel, though - or at least the comedic value would have been seriously wasted - so he refrained. Just. “You know what I meant.” He huffed. The next question drew him back in, and he couldn’t help a laugh. “I don’t know about me, but I’m pretty sure Castiel wants to be him so hard that coins come out. If they can ever stop mooning over each other long enough to actually let that happen, that is.” A smirk - and then he realised very quickly that what he’d said was probably blasphemy, and Sam would probably not take kindly to any sort of graphic imagery of what their brothers might be getting up to. He grinned sheepishly. “Uh, that is to say…” He began - then stopped. Grinned wider. Turned delighted eyes on Sam. “Wait. Is that why you were asking all those questions about Cas? Because he seduced your brother?” Another bark of laughter, and he tilted his head back, chuckling honest, open mirth.

Stranger: ((*to bang him so hard coins come out))

Stranger: ((Of all the words to miss))

You: [[XD]]

You: The image of coins escaping Dean was both confusing and humorous to him but he refrained from showing it as his focus returned to Gabriel as he began to laugh, the sound hearty and full. It was actually… kind of nice. The sound seemed to wash over him, smoothing down his ruffled feathers despite him wanting the opposite. His confusion only grew as he regarded the human. “I would not call it seduction but yes. I do not understand how such a creature has such an effect on Dean.” He answered. “Is Hogwarts some sort of training or school that you were apart of?” He was obviously serious as the words left him, gaze still suspicious.

Stranger: The question about Hogwarts had Gabriel laughing again just as it was beginning to subside. God, he hadn’t laughed like this in ages. It was freeing. He caught his breath, wiped tears of mirth from his eyes, and coughed another chuckle before continuing. “Hogwarts is-“ He began, then thought better of it and shook his head. “You know what, yeah, sure. Let’s go with that.” He grinned. He canted his head to the side as he regarded the angel, eyes bright and curious. “Cas didn’t put any sort of spell on Dean. Not like that, anyway.” He huffed. “In all your years watching humans, how often have you… you know, actually come down and interacted with us?”

You: Sam sensed the lie and his frown deepened, the shiver that ran up his spine at Gabriel’s joy making him turn sour once more. Regardless he accepted the answer, an unspoken rule of their agreement. He would have to accept the other man’s answers just as he expected the other man to do the same. “I have visited Earth, or communed with humans a total of forty two times, not including our current meeting.” He answered matter-of-factly. “Why have you lied to me?” He asked, not seeming angry about the matter.

Stranger: Forty two. It sounded like a lot, but exactly how old was Sam? Was that really enough to get the flavour of what humans were all about? Not enough to read Harry Potter, apparently. The next question gave him pause, made him wonder if maybe he’d angered the angel somehow - but he didn’t seem it. He frowned. “I didn’t-“ He said, then stopped. “Oh, you mean just now. That wasn’t… not a lie, exactly. Just a joke. It’s… Hogwarts is a fictional school, from a book. About wizards. And so help me, if I end up explaining the plot of Harry Potter to an angel, we’re gonna be here a long time.” He quirked another smile. “Maybe I’ll show you the movies sometime. We could have a film night. And popcorn.” The idea made him grin. Cas would hate it.

You: [[I can’t tell you how much I’m loving this! ROFL T.T]]

Stranger: ((I’m giggling, omg))

Stranger: ((I love your Sam))

You: [[AW!!! Thank you! This is my first reverse!verse and only my second time rping sabriel… So that means a lot <3]]

Stranger: ((Really? Colour me impressed!))

You: It was Sam’s turn to arch a brow. He didn’t really understand what a fictional school had to do with there conversation or why Gabriel had felt the need to bring it up in the first place. It only cemented the fact that he didn’t think he’d ever understand humans. He sighed, hoping the human gesture would signal his lack of amusement… that was how it worked… wasn’t it? “I don’t understand your fascination with moving pictures. Especially the ones you keep under your bed.” He commented. “The human expression of love may be complex but I can not understand an attraction to someone who ‘spanks’ you.” He shook his head slowly. “If what I experience is to believed that is some form of punishment and yet your collection of Casa Erotica makes me think otherwise.” He added, making sure not to pose any of the words as a question. “I also don’t understand why you watch them so often. Surely your memory is not so terrible.”

You: [[:3 Why thank you again.]]

You: *If what I have experienced is to believed

Stranger: Gabriel opened his mouth, one hand raised with a finger pointed ready to gesture - then closed it again. Considered. and okay, he could think of plenty of hilarious and suggestive ways to respond to that - and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought about practical lessons of that genre before, involving the angel, but he reserved those very much for the shower and the company of his own hand - but he eventually came to the depressingly sensible conclusion that it was a bad idea. At least while the other was trapped in a ring of fire. “I… am reserving my right not to elaborate on that.” He decided. “If only because Cassie would be very disappointed in me if I corrupted you like that, and I’d have to endure the puppy eyes.” He swallowed, cast his eyes over Sam for a second longer, and lamented lost opportunities. “Maybe some other time.”

You: Sam watched him closely, hoping he would take the bait and provide him with some form of information he could understand but none came. He shrugged gently. “It was not a question, therefore I will accept that.” He nodded. “Now, if we can continue; I may be immortal but I rather not be trapped here for eternity. I have better things to do with my time. Name your next question.” He instructed. The man had given such an odd reaction to his words regarding film. It was interesting. If what he had observed of other humans was to be applied, Gabriel’s reaction was akin to humor but it was unlike him to refrain from speaking when humor was involved. What stopped him now?

Stranger: Demanding, but Gabriel could live with that. Preferable to dodging around the topic of porn. He shifted where he sat on the crate; shuffling backwards to allow him to sit cross-legged atop it, resting his hands on his knees. “Who are you fighting for?” He asked, after too short a pause. May as well go all in. “When the big showdown starts, when the world starts ending, whose side are you batting for? You can’t want that. Any of that.”

You: Sam’s jaw set at the question but he immediately saw the loop hole. “That was two different questions. I will only answer the first.” He pointed out, his voice a bit harsher than he had meant it to be. “I fight for myself. I always have and I always will.” He replied simply. “Now it is my turn.” He reminded, avoiding the question of the coming battle with nothing by a passing glance. “What have you done to force my brother to grow so fond of Dean?” He demanded flatly, his tone dripping with malice once more. “No lies.” He added after a moment.

Stranger: Gabriel winced when he realised his mistake. Angels. So literal, all the damn time. Still, he could ask it again. And the answer he did get was promising. It wasn’t an outright insistence that he’d fight for Heaven, or God’s grand plan. That was something, right? He exhaled a rough sigh, pushing his hand back through his hair again. “This again?” He asked. “I’m serious. I didn’t do anything. Cas didn’t do anything. No witchcraft or spells or potions or shit. Scout’s honour.” He held up three fingers in a mocking salute. “Is it really that hard to believe that they just like each other? I mean, yes, okay, I get that it’s hard to believe - I wasn’t exactly happy about it at first - but they’re not hurting anyone.”

You: Sam didn’t like the truth he sensed at Gabriel’s words but it /was/ the truth so he allowed his worry for witch craft dropped. “That was another two questions.” He pointed out simply. “However I am feeling generous and will provide you with an answer to both inquiries and in return you will answer two in return.” There was obviously no room to argue as he quickly moved on. “Yes, 'this again’. I must be thorough in my investigation, to eliminate all possibilities. As for your second question, Angels do not have anything remotely similar to human emotions. We feel but not nearly as intensely as you do. Therefore, yes. It is very difficult to believe that Dean has simply 'fallen in love’ with a human, beyond supernatural means.” He explained. “Now, to my questions. "How do you plan to use my brother in your quest against Lucifer and Michael? What is your plans for the battle to come?” He fell silent as he waited for an answer, regarding the man evenly.

You: [[*is hoping you don’t get annoyed with all of Sam’s loop holes… He was technically a law student after all*]]

Stranger: ((Heck no, I love it! Reminds me of fairy deals and stuff <3))

You: [[XD I hadn’t thought about that. lol]]

Stranger: Gabriel purses his lips. That felt cheap, but it was at least technically true. He had to mind his words more carefully, apparently, with this particular angel. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to trick him, but he could at least play by the rules of his game. Though the next questions, when they came, were heavier topics. Realer, more dangerous. He considered carefully before responding; “Your brother is an ally. We’ll use whatever help he’s willing to offer.” And that was the truth. It wasn’t as though they were going to make Dean do anything he didn’t want to. They might not see eye to eye on all topics, but Gabriel was not that much of an asshole. This was his choice. “As for our plan… we’re still working on that. The current idea is to put Lucifer back in the box. Don’t know, but like I said. We’re working on it.” He frowned a little. There were a number of different routes he could take with his next question. This could make or break what happened next. “Do you want the world to be destroyed?”

You: Sam’s eyes narrowed as Gabriel continued to speak, each word just seemed to rub him the wrong way. The man implied that he wouldn’t force Dean to do anything he didn’t want to do but when push came to shove, human’s were unpredictable. It didn’t help that it was obvious neither of the Novak’s had any idea what they were doing. They didn’t even have a plan to put Lucifer back in the box! The question made his narrow gaze twitched slightly as if considering it before his brows bounced once and he shrugged. “The world is not the only thing at stake. If Lucifer wins then the Earth and Heaven will be enslaved. If Michael is victorious then Hell will perish and Earth will become a wasteland; while heaven slowly falls from the angel’s destruction at the hands of rebellious humans. What I want does not matter. What I want is to be left alone in peace. The Earth will change after the battle, that is inevitable. Destruction is but only one outcome. Either way it is not my concern. I will survive.” He pointed out with another backwards answer. He was gambling when it came to who would win and his money was on the Novaks… Always the Novaks, despite his distaste for them. “Will you watch my brother die?” He asked as if it were the same as asking about the weather or who would play in the world series.

Stranger: Gabriel struggled to keep his expression passive as Sam explained the potential outcomes for Earth. None of them pretty, nothing appealing. It made him wonder why any of the angels supported it - why any of the demons did. Earth had its flaws, sure, but that didn’t mean it deserved destruction. They couldn’t believe that, could they? And Sam. Did he seriously not care, as long as it saved his own skin? Gabriel didn’t believe that for a second. He set his jaw. “No.” He answered the question with firm certainty. “Not if I have anything to say about it. I don’t sit back and watch my friends die.” Because Dean was a friend, by now. An irritating friend, the kind of friend that showed up at your house, ate the contents of your fridge, and left again - but still a friend. And he dreaded to think what Castiel would do without him, even before any of that.

You: “And yet you are leading him to his destruction.” Sam pointed out simply. “If Dean takes a side, he will die; and even I won’t be able to pull him back. Dean will be lost and you and your brother will be to blame.” He stated simple. “That is what is written and that is how it will be. Unless, you and your brother stop this now. Leave Dean out of this and say yes to Lucifer and Michael. Let the battle wage and be done with it all.” He paused about to pose another question but quickly realized that it was not his turn. “It would me more simple.” He pointed out, rewording his question to a statement. “It would be easiest. My brother’s affection for Dean would wane in time. It would be painful for him but all wounds heal.” He paused, his words still even, simple, with out any real show of emotion. “You claim to care for my brother and yet you are leading him to his death just as you are doomed to lead humanity.”

Stranger: This time, Gabriel did not keep his mask in place. There was only so much a guy could take, after all, and he was reaching his limit with this goddamn apocalypse. He swung his legs off of the crate and rose to his feet. “I am so sick of people telling me what I’m doomed to do.” He snapped. “I’ll do what the hell I want to, okay? Look, your brother made a choice, and that was his decision. His, not ours. He was fighting with us before he fell for Cas, because he’s a good guy who knows bullshit when he sees it.” He was pacing, now; a line up and down opposite the fire. “This planet is fucking ridiculous and incredible and humans are amazing and insane and you wouldn’t possibly know any of that because you’ve been here forty two times in your entire damn existence-“ He had to stop to breathe, and god, he was working himself up to desperation. He had to grit his teeth, had to calm himself. “I’m not forcing Dean to do anything. Nor is Cas. And honestly, I think you know that.”

Stranger: ((Hey, I think I’m gonna get to sleep, because I’m struggling to keep my eyes open! Are you okay to continue this via email?))

You: [[Absolutely. Want me to send the log and my reply?]]

Stranger: ((Yes please! Thank you xx))

You: [[np ;3]]

Stranger: ((I’ll let you dc so we don’t do it at the same time, haha!))

You: [[lol kk. g'night]]

You have disconnected.

Sam watched him evenly as he stood, his emotions finally getting the best of him. He was impressed to say the least, as he watched the man begin to pace angrily. Most of the beings that spoke with Sam lost their temper far before this and that wasn’t even including humans. Still… the way the man’s nostrils flared and his hands seemed to fly about like he was shooing away a horde of bees was almost… adorable. The angel was careful to keep his features schooled as his hazel gaze moved with the human, letting him have his moment.

He shifted to lean back on his hands, stretch out to take up the entirety of the circle as he waited for an opening. Gabriel of course went on and on as he had expected to before finally he stopped. “I agree completely.” Sam said evenly as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He gave no more and no less than that at Gabriel’s rant. “It is also still your turn to ask a question.” He pointed out with a tilt of his head, amusement flashing behind the honey of his gaze. He was careful with his features but there were always tells and Gabriel was so fun to play with at the moment.

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ezilyamuzed · 6 years

Text

There’s no place like home- part 12

Summary: The reader has had a unique gift all her life. While considering it a curse, she discovers the identity of her real father after her mothers passing. Journeying towards her new life, she finds herself thrown within the Winchester’s world. Is it her destiny?

Setting: End of season 13. This takes place after episode 13.18. Flashbacks are italicized.

Warnings: Language. Some angst, fluff, drama- a typically SPN episode. POV may switch after certain sections.

A/N: Big reveal within this part of the story that has been long awaited. The story continues on as the reader discovers what home really means. Sorry it has taken so long. I wish I could give this the attention it deserves , but life happens.

Any grammatical mistakes are all my own, because I am human. Remember all comments and feedback are welcomed! If you want a tag in future posts regarding this series or other writings please send an ask! As always thank you for reading! Enjoy!

*Y/M/N= your mom’s name

Series Masterlist

Laying your head on the simple cloth covered pillow, you knew sleep would not come easily. Dipping your face further into the cotton, that familiar smell ignited your senses. Dean. Like a memory from a dream, the familiar scent that was all him only made your heart beat faster as you breathed it in. The ache you felt inside only grew stronger as the thoughts of the unknown plagued your mind. In just a month, you had quickly found the world you had thought you had known, was intertwined with theirs. Surely nothing good would come of this. With every new twist and turn, the nightmare you had kept a secret was now growing stronger. You were a monster.

Reaching towards the old photographs that laid on the nightstand next to you, you allowed your eyes to document them deep into your memory. The smiling face of Dean with his mother’s arms wrapped around him provided a little relief that at least within the Winchester’s world there was love to be found. Moving to the other photo, the one of your father standing proudly with the two boys that have changed your world, you felt a tiny drop of a tear falling down your face. This was a family, one that you would never know.

The small tears continued to fall from your eyes while the thoughts of what might have been came to your mind. Their lives were far from simple or perfect. It was definitely not like the Home and Gardens lifestyle that you had grown up in, but it was theirs. The simplicity of surviving and striving for the good of all mankind was the life you had often admired from your encounters with other hunters. They did not care about the Gucci bags, pushing your way forward in a prestigious career, or having the perfectly maintained white picket fenced house. They just wanted to protect their loved ones, while saving others in the process.

Letting out a deep breath you sat yourself up, wiping the wetness from your face. Dean’s room was like a living museum of his life. The weapons hanging on the wall all primed to use at a moments notice, told you that he often never allowed himself to rest. That was definitely something that you had in common. Nights where you obtained more than 6 hours were a strange luxury that most likely meant that you had been drugged or knocked unconscious. The meticulously alphabetically organized albums in the milk crate made you smile, that like you he desired for their to be some sort of order in his life. The few casual and dress shirts amongst a couple of suits told the story of his adventures. There was a little blood stain on one of the sleeves, perhaps his own and old dirt markings on the cuffs of his pants. Although there was no designer labels along any of them, they all represented the care that he took in himself, and the pride he had in his appearance. Most often hunter’s looked like grungy, tired old men who had recently woke up in the middle of the woods, so there was appreciation that he took the time to take care of himself in the midst of it all.

You moved around the room, not finding sleep but intrigue in who Dean Winchester really was. Opening a wooden box on his dresser you let out a laugh at the Busty Asian Beauties magazines also neatly organized. For porn magazines, they were actually very well maintained and not worn out along the pages. He was actually gentle with them, definitely not how you were with him a few nights ago back in Sioux Falls. The memory of that night sent a shudder throughout your body, almost like your nerves were screaming to do it again. It couldn’t happen again, you had already decided. With everything going on, it was not just about the two of you anymore, there was something more goin on around you that you could not and would not allow a silly crush to interfere with.

Giving up on the thought of sleep you made your way out the door to the long hall. Glancing down both ends to your sides you wondered which way you should go. You closed your eyes tightly, listening for the sounds of the residents and their pet angel. Hearing muffled sounds coming from the area that you had first arrived at, of what you assumed to be the library, you followed as they continued. You had almost made your way into the room to be seen when you heard Castiel talking a little louder, specifically about you. You kept your back against the door frame as you heard them continue, awaiting for when you should enter.

“We do not have time dealing with some girls family drama,” Castiel spoke with command in his voice.

“Cas, it’s not like we have any other leads right now,” Dean interjected. “We will find a way to get Gabriel to help and we will bring Jack and mom back. We are stuck now, so we just have to keep moving. It’s not like there is some way to just magically fix all of this crap.”

“Locating the grace of an archangel should be your only concern,” Castiel growled before you could hear the sigh in his voice. “Dean, I understand that you have feelings for this...girl, but we do not know what she is.”

“What do you mean? What she is?” Dean exclaimed.

“She is not like anything I have ever encountered before,” Castiel stated calmly. “I do not know if she poses as a threat to our current predicament. Perhaps she has only arrived here now as a part of a grand scheme from one of your enemies. You must be careful.”

“Look Cas, I was with Dean when we met her,” Sam spoke up. “I believe everything that she has told us so far. I mean, yeah it's weird that she is connected to us in so many ways, but if you could only see the sincerity in her eyes, the anger in her voice… Cas, she I think she genuinely just wants our help.”

“And what about finding Gabriel?”

“Well, actually it seems that Y/N, has had some history with him,” Sam answered. “Outside, I happened to mention him, but she didn’t really say much about him before Dean came out.”

“You believe that she is able to contact him and bring him back?” Castiel inquired in perplexment.

The question moved you from your hiding spot, to met the wide eyes of the Winchesters, gulping hard in anxiety about what you had possibly heard.

“Calling Gabriel doesn’t work, he never answers,” you said while moving to sit on the edge of the wooden desk. “At least he hasn’t for a very long time.”

“How do you know of the archangel Gabriel?” Castiel demanded, staring at you intently for the answer.

“Well that is a long story,” you replied while shifting your eyes to the brothers settling themselves down to listen to your story. “When I was a little girl he came to me. It was around the time when I really started questioning things around myself...what I was seeing. He is the one who taught me what everything was and also what to do to with it.”

“You see him over there?” Gabriel stated while pointing towards a man with a greenish tinted light. “He’s a ghoul. They take on the form whatever human they last consumed.”

“So how do I kill it?” your twelve year old self inquired, while standing a little taller.

He smiled at your enthusiasm and shook his head. “Take off the head and you take out the monster.”

“Well what are we waiting for?”

“Hold on there little warrior,” he laughed while grabbing your arm. “You can’t just go around chopping off people's heads all willy-nilly”

“He’s not a person, you just said so yourself,” you bickered in response.

“Not everything that looks like a monster is one, and not everything that looks like a regular Joe Shmoo should be trusted. It was all in the big guy’s plan. You know the whole idea of free will? Everything has it, it was what you choose to do with it that makes you a monster.”

“So Gabriel was your Yoda?” Dean asked with a smirk.

“Basically. He would show up every once in awhile without really any reasoning behind his visits but to give me another lesson into the world of the supernatural.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Sam spoke up.

“Like, maybe 11 years ago I think?” you replied while trying to remember back to that time. “He was really off, definitely not the same that he had been.”

“You have been busy lately,” you heard the familiar voice say from behind you. Turning your head to see the grinning angel, you wiped the dirt from the fresh grave you had just dug off on your shirt.

“It’s not like these demons are going to stop anytime soon. Seems to be more and more of them lately.”

“Yeah, someone left the door open a little too long,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “So how are you doing kid?”

“Hanging in there I guess,” you rolled your eyes. “It’s been awhile since you have graced me with your presence, so what is up now?”

“Things are getting a little noisey from the family, something big is going to go down soon between the bags of dicks I call brothers.”

“Michael and Lucifer?” you asked with your voice a little more raised. “I thought he was in a cage?”

“He is, for now,” Gabriel replied while moving towards you.

“What do you mean? For now? Gabe, if Lucifer gets out someone has to stop him,” you exclaimed in panic. “We have to do something.”

“We will not being doing anything,” he said while pointing back and forth between the two of you. “Take my advice and go run away to Cabo and enjoy the beaches, better yet find a nuclear bomb shelter and hide there forever. When it’s all done, the world is not going to be as fluffy with rainbows and sparkles as it is now.”

“What the hell is your problem?” You fumed. “You are telling me that basically the apocalypse is going to happen and you want me to go run away? No I won’t listen to it.”

“You have no idea what my brothers are capable of,” he retorted giving you a hardened look.

“Do you have any idea what YOU are capable of?” You shot back. “You are an archangel that I have seen do some incredible things like nothing else. Why can’t you see what I see.”

He stared at you deadpanned, no change of light or emotion to be found.

“I think the lessons have now ended Y/N,” he replied in a monotone voice.

“Gabriel,” you sighed heavily. “Look I know family sucks, but you can’t just roll over and let this happen.”

“Goodbye Y/N,” he said with a snap of his fingers, never to be seen again.

“That was the last time I saw him,” you sighed while moving a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve tried calling him. Praying when things really got bad. Like when all the Angels fell years ago. I didn’t know…”

“He was not amongst them. Actually, he has been held captive by a Prince of Hell for quite some time,” Castiel informed you. You nodded your head to him, to show you understood.

“Yeah, well I’m sure whatever happened to him he deserved it,” You pursed your lips up. “Things just kept getting worse around here, and he just left without a care.”

“You said he used to answer you?” Sam asked with suspicion. “Why did he do that?”

“I really don’t know,” you shrugged. “I mean he had told me that I was something special, that there was no one like me. I guess for whatever reason I interested him.”

“Would…” Dean spoke up nervously, bringing your attention to him. “I mean, would you or do you think you could try again?”

“Make a phone call to save the world from impending doom? Sure, but I wouldn’t put all my nickels on it,” you nodded. “Like I said he didn’t care back then, so I doubt he will give a damn now.”

“Tell him it’s of grave importance,” Castiel chimed in. You have the angel a side glance before shutting them in prayer.

“Gabriel. It’s Y/N, we need to talk. There is a lot of shit going down right now, that only you can help with. I need you. Please Gabriel. Let me know you are at least listening.”

You fluttered you eyes open and looked around the room, hoping that your words might have been heard by him. Everything remained the same in its place, bringing a sigh of disappointment from all the occupants in the room.

“Try it again!” Castiel bellowed making your face turn to anger towards him.

“Cas, dude,” Dean interjected whole shaking his head. “He’s not listening to any of us. We will figure this out.”

Castiel stormed out of the room glaring at your direction. You kept your position, keeping your eyes back on him as he moved out. The sound of the chair next to you legs moving on the floor, turned your attention to Sam moving up from his seat.

“Okay, so we still have things we can be doing,” he said while leaning himself onto the table using his hands for balance. “I’m going to go grab some boxes.”

“This is a mistake,” you shook your head, making him stop in his tracks. “You two have more important things to do right now. Besides that, your little boyfriend doesn’t seem to like me or want me here.”

“Cas just has a lot going on right now,” Dean spoke up, looking to the empty doorway. “We will figure it out. We will figure this all out. Together. You’re family now Doc.”

The next 27 hours the three of you worked through every file in the ancient cardboard boxes. Going through the last entries of dead men who might have had a reasoning to who or what you were was exhausting. Dean would slip away only for a couple moments to provide fuel for your brains in the form of the best tasting hamburgers and coffee that you had ever had.

“You can cook?”

“I’m not just a pretty face,” he winked back before stuffing his face with the product of his labor.

You would laugh back at his little jokes while you continued in your search for answers. It seemed like you were on the quest for an item that didn’t exist. The truth. Castiel had made his way back after a few hours, and while he sat in silence going through his own pile, you would catch him staring at you out of the corner of his eyes.

“You know you would read faster if your eyes were on the pages Asstiel,” you blatantly would state.

A little chuckle would come from Sam and Dean to your comments towards the angel who was trying to find the answers on your face. He would mumble out an apology before going back to the files.

Tiredness was overcoming you when you felt like you had hit a dead end in your search. You tossed the folder down to you and laid your head into your arms on the table while closing your eyes.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Sam suggested. “We can keep going.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” you replied without moving your head up to him. “I’ll sleep long enough when I’m dead.”

“That will be sooner than later if you don’t stop beating yourself up,” Dean suggested, which made you raise your head slightly to glare at him. “Why don’t we all take a little break to recharge ourselves? Get back to it in a few hours?”

You let out a deep sigh and nodded. You didn’t want to stop, but you knew he was right. The words on the pages were starting to jumble and you were pretty sure that you had been reading the same sentence for the last hour.

Sitting up straight you stretched your arms above your head. A whiff of your lack of showering hit your nose, turning it up in disgust.

“Maybe a shower too,” you replied. “I think I smell worse than a fresh corpse right now.”

“You aren’t that bad,” Dean laughed while moving over to you as you stood up.

He placed his hand on the small of your back guiding you out of the room before turning up is nose in jest. “Never mind, I guess YOU ARE that BAD,” he grinned widely making you smack him playfully on his stomach. “Let’s get you to the shower stinky.”

_________________________________________________________

Watching the two of you leave Castiel glanced over at Sam in amusement.

“It is nice to see Dean smile for once. Perhaps I was wrong about Y/N.”

Sam let out a breath of laughter. “Yeah Cas, for whatever reason I think this is the happiest I’ve seen him in years.”

“They have a strong connection,” Castiel stated. “It is not witchcraft or anything like that, but you can see it. No, it is almost kismet.”

Sam back in his chair thinking about the words that Castiel had just said. Kismet? Yeah, probably. What other reason could there be that they were just fit together so well? Maybe she was the salvation that Dean had been looking for. A reason to finally care about living, maybe giving him the proof that he was more than just a nobody in the world. Just maybe, she would be the one to save him.

_______________________________________________________

Dean led you to the shower room and handing you a towel as you entered. It reminded you of the locker rooms in high school that your teenaged insecure self used to dread.

“There is soap, shampoo, and conditioner,” Dean stated while pointing at the little shower caddy on the floor. “Basic stuff you need. Nothing too fancy.”

“Not very private,” you laughed. “I guess the men of letters were a very open group.”

Dean chuckled lightly in return. “Yeah, well don’t worry Doc. I’ll keep watch outside for you so nobody bothers you.”

You turned your face to his, only inches away where you could feel his hot breath hitting your face. Your heart started to beat a little faster as you flashed a smile while saying thank you while moving further into the room.

True to his word Dean left you to be alone while you showered. The hot water running down you felt nice over your aching joints from sitting for so long. Each bottle you opened gave you the distinct scent of Dean, which you happily applied and lathered up to clean yourself.

After throwing on a loose fitting t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts you made your way out of the room where Dean stood patiently. Your wet y/h/c hair laid unkempt down your head, leaving the top of your shirt soaked. He cleared his throat a little loudly before escorting you back to his room.

“Here you take my room, I’ll go take the one next door,” he said before turning to walk back out the door.

“Dean?” You said making him stop and turn in his tracks. “I feel bad kicking you out of your own bed. I mean it is big enough for both of us to sleep for a while.”

“Are you sure about that?” He asked with hesitation. “I mean, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I think we are past the point now where sharing a bed is considered uncomfortable. I mean, we did sleep with each other,” you smirked slowly from the corner of your mouth.

“Yeah, well if I remember correctly there was not much sleeping involved,” he grinned back.

“Yeah well, that was then. Now? Now I want to pass out and say screw consciousness.”

“You read my mind Doc,” he smiled while moving over to the side of the bed opposite of you.

The two of you climbed in, both with your backs toward one another as he shut off the light that was illuminating the room. It didn’t take you long to drift off to sleep where the nightmares had begun.

There was a woman crying on a cool metal table in excruciating pain. Light was shining down at her, distorting your vision as men were surrounding her in old fashioned doctor gowns speaking incoherently. Another woman reached out and grabbed her hand, telling her it will be alright. Her long neatly curled red hair surrounded her porcelain skin as she smiled gently at the tormented woman. You heard the sound of a baby crying as the screams grew louder from her. The comforting red haired woman looked down at the other woman when her blue eyes turned black.

Jumping straight up in the bed out of your sleep you could feel the sweat pouring down you skin. Your heart beating uncontrollably with your breath trying to catch itself in your heaving chest.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Dean asked while staring at you frightened from your startled awakening.

“I don’t... I don’t know. It was a dream,” you rasped out. “There was a woman crying in pain with men all around her. She was giving birth and a demon… a demon was right there with her. Dean it was so real.”

You dropped your head into you hands as you could feel the pain of the woman succumbing you, causing tears to once again fall. Dean wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to his chest. He ran his fingers through your damp hair, whispering that it was only a dream.

“Dean, it wasn’t just a dream,” you cried. “I think… I think it has something to do with this place. With me.”

“Come on,” he said while letting go of you and standing himself up. “Let’s go see if the others have any ideas.”

________________________________________________________

Sam tried to push himself further into the files, but he had managed to succumb to sleep where he sat. It must have been a few hours when Castiel nudged him to go and sleep properly in a bed, which his aching back could only agree with. He stretched in his seat, considering moving from the task in front of him when he looked down at the file he had drooled a little on.

Dean and Y/N both walked through the archway together, looking still sleep deprived, but yet more alert as he read the words in front of him.

“So check this,” he stated loudly to bring the attention to him.

Y/N gave Dean a confused sideways glance as he just shrugged and said “it’s his thing. Just go with it.”

“Have you found something Sam?” Castiel asked while furrowing his eyes to the pages above Sam’s shoulder.

“November 5, 1955. The twins were born today. Both relatively healthy under the guidance of Cuthbert Sinclair, Henry Winchester and Josie Sands. The mother survived, although there were complications during the childbirth process. The first born, Abigail was strong and even at birth displayed such remarkable progress in her development. The second born, y/m/n was not has promising. During the delivery it was skeptical of her survival, proving that she was not as strong as her sister. Abigail’s future is promising toward the Men of Letters ultimate goal of creating the perfect specimen of defense against the darkness in the world.”

________________________________________________________

As Sam finished you felt his eyes land towards you, along with the others. Sister? Twin sister? No that couldn’t be. She never said anything about her. Why wouldn’t she of told you?

“Y/N, y/m/n was your mom’s name right? She was born in 1955,” Sam spoke up with sympathy in his voice.

“I...I didn’t know she had a sister,” you stammered out as you felt all the emotions hitting you like a baseball bat.

“Josie Sands,” Dean chimed in. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“It is the name of Abaddon's vessel during her time amongst the Men of Letters.” Castiel stated while keeping his gaze toward you. “Your mother and her sister were created using dark magic for the purpose of becoming weapons against the evil.”

“My Mom never had any powers or special abilities,” you replied tearfully . “She was just a normal mom. A boring history professor who died of a normal, non magical disease like anyone else.”

“It is in your blood,” Castiel confirmed. “Your mother may have not been afflicted, but you, her daughter was born with the burden they had ignorantly placed upon your family.”

His words stabbed deep into your gut where you could feel the bile coming up your throat. The words from the demon days earlier whispering in your head, “Man-made monster.” It was all true. You were the genetic byproduct of a science experiment produced by a Knight of Hell and a bunch of men who knew nothing of what they were doing. The truth you had hoped and prayed that was not real was sitting there on the table. You really were a monster.

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angelwithoutleave-moving-blog · 7 years

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The Guided Tour of Mortality | Castiel & Damon

Pulling my thread with ricsidiotbestfriend over here from the archived blog~ My next response will be reblogged directly from your blog to the new one!

“You can’t stay.”

The words rang in his ears still, tightened his throat, ached empty and cold in his gut. Even after all the platitudes and dodgy explanations Dean had tried, in halted and awkward attempts at conversation, between the Bunker and the bus station. Castiel couldn’t even remember anything else he had said. Only those three words.

Dean had given him money for the bus. Enough to take him wherever he needed to go. A few changes of clothes in his bag, an untraceable cell phone in case he needed to get ahold of them. Toiletries, some human credentials with the name ‘Steve Cronin.’ His Angel Blade, and even some hunting supplies. Dean left him with a promise that he would call. But no direction. No destination.

He’d watched the names of cities and states pass on the display board above the counter as the sunlight left the windows and the station emptied. It must have been some time after midnight when the announcements for the last bus flashed on the marquee. And still, Castiel had no direction.

The woman on the other side of the counter looked pitiless, but she offered him a blanket left by someone who had formerly been in his position and gave him change for the ten in his wallet for the vending machines. It took him far longer than it should have to decide on plain peanut butter crackers and water for dinner. He laid across the uneven seating, but the blanket smelled like mildew and body odor.

The woman turned off all the lights but one in the back office, where someone on the overnight shift watched a television Castiel could hear from the lobby. Having something in his stomach seemed to make it easier for him to think, though, and he slowly processed his options in the dark.

None of the other hunters he knew were still alive, other than the Winchesters. He had only ever had the loosest connections with his friends’ contacts, and he imagined Dean would have given him any ideas if there were any to be had. The only other people he had were the Angels, and they were probably hunting him. Without his Grace, he couldn’t even hear them on Angel Radio. But he had just taken their home away from them. Every Angel had fallen to Earth, in the same position that he–

Except for one. The knowledge came from some dark recess of his mind, otherwise forgotten and nearly useless until now. He knew the story of Shamsiel and Jehoel – it was used as a cautionary tale in his garrison – but he couldn’t quite remember what had happened to the latter after he was sent to Earth. He could have died, or cut out his own Grace. But there was a chance that there was an Angel on Earth who didn’t hate him. Didn’t know him, but didn’t hate him.

All he could offer was a prayer. But it was the only thing he had thought of so far that gave him any kind of direction. And if he named the Angel directly, only Jehoel would hear. All he could do was try – and hope he had nothing left to lose.

Jehoel? he prayed, easily and naturally finding the faith in his heart that turned thoughts into prayers. My name is Castiel. I was an Angel, but I have fallen. I am mortal, and I don’t have anyone to turn to. If you’re out there… I need help.

It might have been one of the worst moments of Jehoel’s very long life.

He’d been staying in an apartment for a few weeks. It was empty while the wealthy owners were in Europe, and it was luxurious, and almost devoid of any kind of personality. A penthouse. He’d been reading when it happened. He heard, or felt, a crack, or a… void, or… human words were idiotic and nothing translated. Something not earth-shattering but worse. And then he sat on the roof and watched them fall. It seemed to take forever. Days. Jehoel (not Damon, because he felt very much like an angel, in those moments) watched, and wondered; who? Samael, Balthazar, Rebecca, Anael. Which of them were dead, and which were alive, and were they still angels?

And then, because anything else was impossible to contemplate, and because he hated them for fearing him, and because they were complicit, and right, he went back to the couch and read some more. He didn’t imagine homeless angels with their wings destroyed, huddling in shop doors and rocking on the balls of their feet because Earth felt like Hell and they didn’t recognize hunger. He didn’t imagine his friends lying in hospital beds, screaming for a father who’d genuinely stopped giving a crap the moment his golden boy had waltzed off the chess board (fuck you, mixed metaphors are brilliant). He didn’t imagine their broken bodies being uncovered by gardeners and cops, in trees and creeks.

–

It was a good thing he hadn’t thought any of that crap. Because, hello, instead of thousands of homeless semi-humans in need of rounding up (fuck, who had the energy to teach them to operate a shower?), the world was instead full of pissed-off angels. He’d encountered a half dozen, that first week. Five had looked straight through him (idiots) and a sixth had made a grand attempt to start a fight, in the seconds before he’d learned that Jehoel’s – Damon’s loyalty to humans did not in any way extend to angels who were just stuck in his beautiful home and had zero appreciation for her complex beauty.

It was a genuine shock when he felt the prayer. It was rare for anyone to call on him directly, and Damon’s instinct was to stay the fuck away, since it was undeniably a TARP (meeeemes). And yet. The voice felt forlorn, and human.

“Castiel,” he said. If the air was disturbed for a moment by feathers, no one had noticed. Damon tapped his chin with one finger. “Hmmmm. This is ten kinds of weird.” He leaned over and plucked at the disgusting blanket, cleaning and sanitizing it with a shake. “Excuse me for saying so, but you look like you’re having eight spectacularly shitty days, all at the same time.”

He sat on a row of bucket seats across from Castiel, and clasped his hands, letting them dangle between his knees. Bus terminals, like all liminal spaces, were strangely compelling and repelling at the same time. At a busier time, Damon might have sat for a few hours and watched. People coming, going, running away from something or running to something else. Worldly possessions wrapped up in ugly duffel bags and newly purchase suitcases. Lovers saying goodbye, families saying welcome home. At night, they were only spaces. No one should sleep anywhere so uncertain.

“Thousands of angels down here looking to make a new world order, and here’s Castiel, human,” he said. “They all just fell, but you… Fell? Rumor has it – if you listen to rumors, which of course I do – that you’ve been down here for years.”

He glanced at the empty cracker packet and shook his head.

“That’s not food. You need actual FOOD. Nothing that comes out of a vending machine. Burger. Ooh, ever had a blooming onion? Genius. You wanna tell me what happened, or you wanna scarf down some empty calories first?”

Despite that he had literally called for an Angel, Castiel startled some when Jehoel actually appeared in the otherwise empty room. His immediate thought was, So this is what the Winchesters put up with, but that thought made something painful twist in his gut. Not anymore.

He had barely started rising before the Angel was tugging the blanket off and shaking it out. Castiel shivered, but it was a relief from the rest of his senses. He straightened to sit up on the bench and accepted his blanket back with a small, “Thanks.” He really didn’t know what to say about his clearly miserable impression. The observation was technically impossible, but he had enough grasp of figurative language to understand the exaggeration. And it felt accurate.

Jehoel sat across from him, and he looked so natural doing it. Castiel admired how he could physically relax his vessel, just let it be human in ways that he had never been able to master himself. As he watched, he could see the man’s attention wander, and it fascinatedthe new mortal. Jehoel had none of the stiffness or intense focus so characteristic of their species, and it made Castiel wonder just how long he had been down here. How long it had taken him to get comfortable with this. It made him… hopeful, in a way. Maybe this wasn’t as impossible as it seemed.

At the question pertaining to his Fall, he frowned and lowered his gaze to his own hands, resting apart on his knees. “Yes,” he said quietly. He was mildly surprised that Jehoel still listened to whatever Angel gossip had been spreading about him, but he answered the speculation anyway. “I have had a vessel here for the last several years, yes. But I…” He struggled with how to sayit before he concluded with, “still had my Grace. Until now.”

At the mention of food, Castiel’s stomach churned hopefully, and he looked at the plastic wrapper of crackers himself, crumpled and stuffed in the empty water bottle. A burgersounded fantastic. It was the only kind of food he knew he loved, and he wondered if Jehoel somehow, absurdly, knew that. He looked up and hesitated to express his enthusiasm, but frowned at the mention of a “blooming onion.” That didn’t sound nearly as pleasant as the burger. He closed his mouth as he considered the offer.

“Why would you eat a vegetable bulb before it’s fully grown?”

And really, it didn’t matter what Jehoel was offering. He was offering. Giving him something to do, something to say, something to want. And there was definitely a possibility that he would regret this, that whatever the Angel wanted in return would be too steep a price to pay, that this would somehow end with another knife in his back.

But he simply had nowhere else to go.

He tried to smile when he answered, hoped that his question hadn’t sounded ungrateful. “Actual food sounds… very appealing.”

Funny; Damon couldn’t sense any trace of whoever had owned that vessel before. Maybe the pricess of falling had extinguished it, maybe it was more complicated. Not his business.

(… he was definitely planning to find out, but that didn’t mean it was his business.)

“A veget… what? No, It’s… they cut it so it looks like a… and they soak it in ice water, and… you know what? Never mind. I’ll get you a burger. Keep it simple.” And ideally, lots and lots to drink. Get him completely plastered, let him sleep for a solid sixteen hours, maybe he’d start to feel better. Or not. The apartment Jehoel was very helpfully looking after had a well-stocked medicine cabinet. He was sure they could spare a little oxy for a miserable ex-angel, when the hangover hit.

Damon stood and stretched, and reached out a hand to pull Castiel to his feet. “I hope you haven’t lost your sea legs, brother, because I didn’t bring the car. Better keep the blanket, now that it doesn’t smell. Ready? Brace yourself.”

He put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, and they closed into nothing, leaving only the sound of beating wings.

–––

No point in eating the second best burger Damon had ever encountered. Nope. He went straight for the best he could think of in three states, in a weird diner with terrible décor and comfortable bench seating. He settled them on the ground only a few yards away from the door, in a mostly empty parking lot, and gave Castiel a moment to settle.

“You alright? If you need to puke, puke, but try to avoid the shoes.”

Inside, Damon winked at the waitress, who had a fondness for him, and led Castiel to a booth in the back, ideally situated near a heating vent, since he was reasonably sure the weather was cold. Guy needed clothing, as well, but that could wait. He pushed a menu in front of his very disoriented friend, and took one for himself.

Jehoel relied heavily on interpreting people’s facial expressions, since people were generally terrible at using their words. But Castiel’s expressions were completely alien.

Small talk? Keep it light? That sounded sensible.

“So, what happened? To your grace? Seems like a bad thing to lose. Me, I lose car keys, the occasional wallet… never misplaced my grace. Order whatever you want.” He waved down a waitress.

“We’re gonna need bourbon. Quite a bit of it. We could do that thing where you forget you’re not supposed to bring a whole bottle, and I could thank you by tipping you enough for a new pair of shoes. Agreed? Oh, and… probably some water.” That would do for now.

Jehoel – funny how it was harder to think of himself as Damon in the presence of another angel (sort of, anyway) – crossed his arms on the table.

“Talk. You look like you’re still waiting for some penny to drop. Is the rest of the family pissed with you? Did you break something, Castiel?”

… .so much for small talk.

Castiel’s brow gathered as he tried to follow Jehoel’s description of a “blooming onion,” his chin tilting as he visualized, and he was dismayed by the incomplete image when the angel abandoned the effort. His expression eased at the idea of a burger, though, and he nodded his agreement. He took Jehoel’s hand when it was offered and stood, but he shook his head at the suggestion that he bring the blanket along.

“It isn’t mine,” he explained. Then he folded it – unevenly, but as best as he could do rather quickly – threw away his trash, and grabbed the bag Dean had given him before they took off. Though he hadn’t been the one who cleaned the blanket, it still felt good to leave the station in a better condition than he’d arrived in. As the familiar sensation of flight rushed around him, he spared a thought to hope the bus terminal’s next unfortunate overnight guest would be more comfortable.

------

Flying was strange. Of course in part because he was missing a couple appendages – and the reminder made the raw ache in his chest throb – but also because his stomach rolled around very unpleasantly until they landed. His head spun with the sudden jolt of the halt, and he reached for Jehoel’s arm to steady himself while it stopped. Something burned in his chest, but after a few uneven breaths of chilly air, it calmed, and he shook his head.

“I won’t vomit.” He nodded reassuringly and pulled his arms in close to his chest as the wind picked up. He followed his brother inside, trying not to step on his heels in his rush to get out of the cold.

Castiel physically relaxed some once they were in the diner, dropping his arms and easing his pace. Jehoel led him to a booth towards the back, and he noted the brush of heat when he sat down. He tried to offer an appreciative smile, hoping it was more successful than the last. Taking the menu slid in front of him, he could swear saliva was building in his mouth just looking at the printed images.

His eyes automatically rose to Jehoel when he spoke, but they flicked down at the table when his brother started his interrogation. Every time he started to think he could answer and opened his mouth, Jehoel was asking another question. The waitress was at the table before he could decide what to eat, and while Jehoel ordered drinks, Castiel scanned the menu in a panic.

“Oh, wait, I want– um–” he tried to stop her as she turned to leave, and she smiled at him a little differently than she smiled at his companion.

“Take your time, sweetie! I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

Castiel exhaled and nodded as she walked away. But instead of looking back at the menu, his eyes slowly fell to the angel across from him. He flinched at the very direct questions, and something in his throat swelled. He tried to swallow it while he articulated an answer.

“My Grace was taken from me, to be used in a spell. By Metatron. The Scribe.”

He knew it wasn’t much of an explanation. But he hoped that it was enough, somehow. Hoped that he wouldn’t have to give Jehoel a detailed account of the entire traumatizing experience. Or give him every reason that all his other siblings already had to hate him. His eyes were on the menu, but they weren’t following any of the words.

It was like watching a five-year-old get overwhelmed at the zoo. Jehoel wished he could teach himself to shut up. Maybe not interrogate people who weren’t in any kind of shape to be interrogated. But then, they had a few problems, here, not least of which was that Castiel was damnably sober, and at least that one could be solved. This angel hung out with hunters. He had to be at least marginally familiar with strong liquor.

He opened his mouth to ask another question, and schooled himself to keep it shut instead. Let Castiel take a minute to let his mouth and his brain get into sync. He looked tired. Jehoel – Damon couldn’t even think about what it would be like to lose his grace. To be down here without wings.

He felt bad for Castiel. Who needed food and still didn’t seem to have taken in a word of the very simple menu.

“You can just point,” he said. “Bacon cheeseburger. Easy.” Jehoel clasped his hands on the table in front of him, twiddled his thumbs. He had a lot more questions. That vessel – was it home to one, or two? That was a good question – what happened to a human in a vessel where the grace had been extracted? What –––

Shut up, you.

He took a deep breath, eyes on Castiel. What he really needed to know was how likely they were to have problems with their typically vengeful brothers and sisters, but since his own angel blade was on hand and he sensed no immediate threat, he just waited. The waitress was back with two small glasses and the bottle of bourbon, and bonus, she’d brought water as well. Damon gave her a wink, and poured a couple of generous measures.

“let your brain catch up,” he said, pushing one across the mica-flecked tabletop. “I forget my manners. One of my very few character flaws; other than that, I’m essentially perfect.” He threw the shot back, and put his glass down with a quiet tap.

“So this spell – is it the reason for the recent angelic meteor shower?” Fucking Metatron. Jehoel had never liked him, pompous little fuck. Of all the angels he didn’t miss, that one was high on the list.

“Or maybe the sixty-four thousand dollar question… where are your hunter pals?” He leaned closer, because this could be a sticking point. After years of help (and yeah, Jehoel was low on details but the brush strokes were pretty clear) figures they’d return the favor. “Seems to me like you being alone in a bus station in the middle of the night isn’t a thing that should happen when you’ve already got friends down here.”

Castiel could feel Jehoel’s eyes laser-focused on him as he tried to make sense of the menu. It wasn’t that he couldn’t comprehend the words, it was just that he couldn’t make the connections between words and senses. He didn’t know what a tomato tasted like, or whether or not he – or Jimmy – liked it. When his Grace had been intact, he could recall Jimmy’s memories when he needed to – as well as the entire wealth of information in the known universe. But since his mental capacity had been reduced to that of a mere human, it seemed that his vessel’s former occupant’s memories had been inconveniently discarded.

He jumped when Jehoel called his attention back to the menu. His eyebrow twitched at the suggestion that he just point; it sounded like a joke at best, and an unnecessary risk at worst. Surely he could do better than just guessing. But a growl from his stomach reminded him that he could be here for much longer trying to choose something with so little information. At least he knew he liked burgers.

He put down the menu when the drinks arrived, and this time, the waitress withdrew a pen and small notebook from her apron pocket.

“I’ll have a bacon cheeseburger,” Castiel said when she prompted him for his order. “Please.”

She was devoting most of her attention to Jehoel, but she did flash him a practiced smile and say, “Comin’ right up!” before she spun around and walked away.

Castiel automatically reached for the water, but he paused and let his fingers fall to the offered shot of alcohol instead when Jehoel slid it across the table to him. He watched the angel throw it back, something he had seen Dean do before, and he mirrored the motion. The amber liquid burned on his tongue, and when he swallowed it, it burned all the way down his esophagus and spread into his chest. He coughed, once, and his face scrunched tight for a moment before he could straighten it again.

“What?” he asked, but Jehoel was already moving on to his next question – about the spell. “Yes,” he answered, rather plainly, about its relationship to the ‘meteor shower’ that was actually the fall of every angel in Heaven.

But the next question his brother asked was the one Castiel was least prepared to answer. Because Jehoel wasn’t really asking ‘where are your friends,’ he was asking ‘why aren’t they here.’ And Castiel didn’t have an answer for that. So he stared into the bottom of the now empty shot glass.

“I don’t know.” His voice was low, and it trembled. He could list a hundred reasons why the Winchesters would suddenly decide that he was no longer worthy of their friendship, but he really couldn’t understand what he had done now that was worse than anything they had forgiven him for in the past. “Perhaps… they ran out of chances to give me.”

Jehoel had an extraordinary capacity to make himself a promise to stop doing something, and then carry on doing it only moments later. And Castiel wasn’t getting any less overwhelmed. He looked his actual age, for a second there, and Jehoel was preeeEtty sure that was even older than his own spectacularly aged self, so that was bad.

He watched as Castiel struggled with the menu, ordered, did a shot, all pretty simple things he was absolutely going to have to get used to. Those, and more. Laundry and hygiene and having to walk places or catch buses. Jehoel wouldn’t have swapped places with Castiel for a million dollars, even if he’d had use for a million dollars.

He’d considered falling, of course. More than once, over the years. In the beginning, especially, when his heartbreak was so wretched there were days he couldn’t do anything but curl up, on the floor of some flophouse or in a forest (that was worse; all Jehoel’s memories of trees had been so closely tied up with Shamsiel) and grieve, for days or weeks on end. He tried to blame Heaven for that pain and he fantasized about cutting ties with them forever.

And then, when the pain got less, he thought about his wings, and the sensation of grace, and he couldn’t do it. He was too selfishly in love with the air to settle for the earth.

As he watched Castiel’s face crumple, Jehoel found himself wishing he’d stopped asking questions just a little earlier than he had. He knew very little about the Winchesters. Seemed like good men, if a little heavy-handed; they’d saved a lot of lives, Jehoel had to respect that. But a friend who stopped being a friend during your low point wasn’t much of a friend. He sincerely hoped there was a good reason for the hunters abandoning their friend; meantime, he had more practical things to be concerned about.

He poured them each another drink. Probably should have waited until Castiel had some food in him, to soak up the liquor, but eh, a hangover wouldn’t kill him. He pushed a glass of water towards Castiel and leaned back in the bench seat.

“So the fam will be gunning for you. I know what that’s like.”

He didn’t, really. Back in the beginning, he’d assumed he was universally loathed, but he really didn’t know if there was any truth to that.

“You’ll be safer staying with me than on the streets. I should probably find some protection for you. Wards, something.” There had to be a way to place a warding mark on Castiel’s body. Tattoo, maybe? Practical and badass. It might not go with the… homeless accountant look, but Castiel probably wasn’t the type to wander around in a muscle shirt, so no one would ever know.

The waitress returned suspiciously quickly with the food. Or maybe Jehoel had been more lost in his head than intended. He gave her a panty-dropping smile, and shooed her off.

“I’ve got all the mod cons,” he added. “Like, for instance, a shower. Nice, right?” Jehoel winked. “Coffee machine. Probably even find you something to wear, if you don’t mind sexing up your look with a little black on black.”

Castiel replayed the events of the last several months in his head. Sam’s trials to close Hell, the heated arguments between the Winchesters about the sacrifices involved, his own unpleasant encounters with his family, but most of all, his conversations with the Scribe. He replayed everything Metatron had ever said to him, combing through the words for some clues, trying to pinpoint the exact moment he should have known he was being used.

He had yet to find it when Jehoel interrupted his train of thought by sliding another shot of alcohol and a glass of water into his field of vision. He took the shot without hesitation. He had not had many “human” experiences as an angel, but he remembered being drunk, and he longed for any relief from his ruminating thoughts.

“Yes,” he answered, and words came easier as warmth spread in his belly. “The garrison was not happy with me before I helped Metatron close the gates of Heaven.” His brow pinched, and his eyes rose to the bottle of bourbon. “Now, I would expect any of them to kill me on sight.”

He reached for the bottle to pour himself a shot and raised an eye to Jehoel when he spoke of Castiel staying with him. Could he afford to hope that this long lost brother of his would help him for longer than just a meal?

“Wards,” he repeated, then threw back the third shot. “Like I warded the Winchesters. So angels couldn’t find them. Carved Enochian on their ribs.” He didn’t know why he said that. Except he vaguely remembered that alcohol had a tendency to skew word association – and turn thoughts into speech. He took a drink of water next.

The food came, and the delicious smell of it had barely reached Castiel’s nose before he was biting into the burger voraciously. He barely heard the waitress’s salutation over the pleased grunt he made around the food in his mouth. He had surely never tasted anything so fantastic, and he had struggled to swallow a few more large mouthfuls before he could bring himself to slow down.

Remembering he was supposed to be participating in a conversation with his host, he looked up at Jehoel as he chewed, in time to catch the word “shower.” That didn’t sound quiet as wondrous as food, but close to it. He had never even liked being dirty as an angel, and he found the sensation far less comfortable without the ability to instantly cleanse himself with his Grace.

“A sho–” It was hard to talk with his mouth full, and he swallowed before he attempted to again. “A shower. I need one,” he agreed.

He was already chewing again by the time Jehoel was discussing his wardrobe, and he tilted his head curiously at his brother. Why would he want to “sex up” his attire? Furthermore, why did Jehoel solely possess clothes that would accentuate sexual appeal? His eyes wandered over the Angel’s vessel, at least as far as the table blocked his view, and tried to imagine himself wearing something so… tight.

Finally, he swallowed and formed his question slowly. “What do you do, here on Earth?”

#p: the guided tour of mortality #ricsidiotbestfriend

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wordsfromafangirl · 5 years

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Supernatural’s Angels

I have been theorizing about angels. How have we seen them work in Supernatural? First of all, we know they need permission to possess a vessel. They have the ability to bury their human counterpart in some kind of dream-like state. They have the ability to “gank” the human soul within if they so choose. It’s been mentioned that some angels are not so kind to their human hosts, already destroying them once they have said yes, which would seem to negate the need to ask for permission, but I would think that’s just a luck of the draw, I suppose? It would also seem as if Jimmy was not shielded from what happened to him when Cas first possessed him. He explained to Sam and Dean how it felt being shot, stabbed and I think there was something about it feeling like a thousand suns burning inside of you. (??) We’ve also seen that some human souls cannot accept the angel even if they say yes. So not all humans can be a vessel for an angel. We also see permission be negated through archangels like how Sam having struggled against Lucifer and Gadreel then now Dean struggling against Michael.

Exhibit A: Anna.

She ripped her grace from within and fell to Earth. She was then born into a human family, hidden from Heaven it would seem until the seals were breaking. We see that apparently she’s always had a connection to Heaven through angel radio driving the human Anna to the brink. However, that’s the angel breaking to the surface without her grace? Right? Or did I miss that? I thought she was regaining memory before she got her grace back, thus making the grace a part of the angel that only supplies them powers. The healing, the strength etc. It’s been insinuated that if an angel falls from Heaven (except in Lucifer’s case apparently, he was fallen but not without Heaven’s power, did they trick him into the cage, yes, but he never became human until that one time partially...ugh whatever) but I digress. It’s been insinuated that angels will be disconnected from Heaven, especially if they fall entirely (see Cas in The End 5x04). I think Anna only put herself on “mute” if you will. Though, it begs the question if Anna had lived as a human, no grace, no Heaven, would she have molded a soul? Giving her access to Heaven or is she still property to the Empty? She plucked out her grace, it created life (a tree), then plummeted herself to Earth and ended up reborn to a human family. This means that grace and the angel are separate? If the angel so chooses? There are weapons that can trap the angel entirely, holy fire and the egg later on (now destroyed), and it also seems the only weapon that can put them down is the Angel Blade. Therefore, the blade destroys an angel entirely. Or a strong enough demon like Alastair, who almost overpowered Cas in 4x16 until Sam showed up.

For me, it always seemed like a separate thing. There is the grace and a mind of the angel. And if an angel stays human long enough I would like to think it can mold a soul thus gaining access to Heaven like a human.

Exhibit B: Gabriel (an archangel turned Trickster) + other angels

He apparently went to a Russian shaman of sorts for this hiding trick, partially giving up some grace (but not his mind or how he thinks right?). He is still an archangel, but he made himself into a trickster. Was he still using archangel powers? Well, according to Cas in Changing Channels the whole TV land thing was way too powerful, so that must be archangel juice? However, suffice to say Gabriel has been detached from Heaven for far too long? He’s created a persona of the Trickster that as Sam said is into, “wine, women, song, so he wouldn’t want to see the world ended.” I just think there is a difference. Grace is just Heaven’s power, but there is a mind behind the angel because if there isn’t then how would an angel perceive trauma (Cas who also experienced much trauma)? Like for example, Gabriel after being tortured by Asmodeus. Certainly feeling weakened, though, he still had grace, but being physically and mentally abused. He suffered a trauma that again made him walk away from helping the Winchesters. Balthazar before Cas not in his right mind so cruelly ended him, is similar to Gabriel. Hiding out, still tapped into Heaven, turning angel radio on and off, eventually trying to help Cas with his plight in s6 and then the Winchesters, but he still had his own “little corner of the world mapped out” like Gabriel. Sick of Heaven’s shit and they just hid. Maybe not always hidden well. These two though did not decide to “fall” like Anna, therefore I don't think they’d ever have the chance to mold a human soul as she could. Think of Gadreel’s buddy who decided it was best to stick with that human family. He felt right in that body because he actually changed the father. The father was no longer a “bad” man, but he was something better due to the angel and the angel felt he was giving happiness to the mother and daughter. If he gives up his grace he becomes human. But does the personality that seems to be there go too? Anael also fits into this category as a Faith Healer still connected to Heaven by her grace, what does she become if she loses that grace? A human right? Michael insinuated that what she was feeling about her place in the world was human things. So as an angel she tries to comprehend human things, but the body/vessel is not human until the grace is gone. Grace can be taken and stored. Or it can be destroyed (an angel blade). Even Hannah explores what she perceives as human things through Cas. The show I think showing us that she may have developed some sort of angel-like affection towards Cas. But she never actually felt anything truly human until the husband of her vessel found his wife. She then decides to let her vessel go. We see Hannah later in a male vessel sort of saving Castiel from other angels. Hannah seems to treat the human souls gently. Possibly burying them in a dream, but I think the love of the original vessel was so strong it made her want to give back that love to the humans.

Exhibit C: (totally didn’t intend this but cool) Castiel

We learn through Castiel that angels can be damaged by using “other angel’s grace.” Cas’s body or his mind was being torn apart the longer he used different grace to sustain himself. Then like a drug addict he simply ruined his human body. If Cas never stole grace he’d simply go on as Steve, right? Yes, the meat suit still looks like Jimmy Novak, but Castiel (what part of him?) experienced life like a human. A life he thought he understood, but no, he did not. He tells this to Dean. He cannot fathom it and so due to him most of the fallen angels Castiel unwittingly put on Earth, would not be able to fathom it as well, hence that whole plot with Ephram. He was feeling Castiel’s human pain. All of this makes me think, Cas’s mind or personality must still be connected to Heaven because as a strategist he saw fit to cloak himself with a tattoo? Reapers found him so easily and so did angels. How? They put him on Heaven’s most wanted list, angel or not? The advantage being he was in a perceived weakened state, being human and all? This also brings up another question, was Anna still on Heaven’s radar even as they allowed her to live as a human? Meaning no matter what they are still property of the Empty (hence human Cas does not mean a way for him to skirt the deal). Or can it?

I also must mention Naomi. It seemed her job along with a few others was to wrangle the masses. Or brainwash. She would tap into angel’s minds and tweak them to do Heaven’s will. Which is something I think looms over all the angels as they start to think of doubting orders from above? If they head towards doubt they must be punished (Cas was ripped back to Heaven in s4). Naomi is one of those angels that fixes the imperfections. The angels don't remember this happens to them but they can break the connection (Cas season 8). Some even defer entirely like Uriel and join Lucifer’s side but Uriel was not disconnected from Heaven’s power because of his deferment. This kinda insinuates angels can practice free will like a human, but if angel’s like Naomi continue to “fix the molds” then they cannot continue down that path of doubt unless you do like Anna. Rip the grace and become reborn. Castiel’s grace depleted in s5 ever so slowly, like taking a chisel to it. I don’t think until his decisions to help in Point of No Return 5x18 does Castiel truly begin his fall. We know that by the time Pestilence is on the scene, Castiel is losing his connection to Heaven. Though, he has just enough strength to cut off his finger from that point on we get the ever so awesome shot of Castiel with a shot gun (The Devil You Know 5x20).

Okay, so I don't doubt that angels are still celestial energies (a ball of blue light, six lion heads whatever you picture) but I don't think grace = the angel. The angels that Cas stole from I think die because most often an angel blade is used to take the grace, the only weapon that can take the grace, I think. Nothing else makes the grace show within the vessel. But if the vessel is healed without the human soul, what happens? The angels that fell from Heaven when Metatron did his crap, did they fall with grace still intact (just no wings)? I think so. Cas did not. Metatron forced him to return as human. Anna chooses to fall without grace as well. It seems an angel can take over the body without grace? So are they separate, grace and the angel? But even then, if they are perceived as human are they still angel enough to be the Empty’s property?

#castiel #angels #spn #theories #cas's deal #long post #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural

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