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#and when they come across another angel who makes fun of Cas' state or threatens him dean kills him bloody wout hesitation. like.
theheartchoice · 3 years
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season 10 extended demon!dean verse where he gets cursed by a witch and loses his memories i mean amnesiac!demon!dean? how can you not love 
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spnsisterimagines · 3 years
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Mario Kart
Summary - Y/N decides to engage her brothers and Castiel into Mario Kart, not realizing what she was getting herself into.
Pairings - Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader, Jack Kline x Platonic!Winchester!Reader, Castiel x Winchester!Reader
Word Count - 1,911 words
"Let's get it!" Y/N squeals, claiming her spot on the middle of the couch. She was practically bouncing up and down, waiting impatiently for everyone to join her. The Dean Cave had brightened considerably since she had added a few redecorations. While Dean initially denied her, she had forced him to allow her to put up LED lights, several polaroids from her camera(they were mostly of herself smiling widely at the camera while Sam and Dean looked mildly annoyed with fake smiles. There was also a real funny one where Sam was unconscious on a hunt and Y/N decided to pose beside him), as well as posters from their favorite bands. Not to mention the added dock to the TV stand to hold her Nintendo Switch that Sam had bought her for her previous birthday. 
She supposed he regretted it now, since she was forcing him to play a game he'd never even heard of.
He entered the room first, holding a big bowl of popcorn and a soda. Dean followed close behind, Little Debbie packages hanging from his mouth since his arms were occupied with pillows from their bedrooms and a pack of beers for himself. Jack was the only one to come empty handed. He happily took the spot beside Y/N, waving merrily as Castiel also appeared with two sodas(both of them for Beth because he was just so considerate), taking the spot on her other side.
"I'll give this an hour before we switch to movie night, Y/N," Dean warned as he occupied his armchair, which was to the left of the couch. She had discovered this old thing at a garage sale. It had been a rather stressful day because Dean had refused to strap it to Baby and they had to hound what little friends they had for a truck. Since most of their friends were dead, Y/N had hot wired one outside of a bar and returned it before the drunk redneck inside could notice it had even left. She was sure the dent in the bed was there before they put the couch on it. Sam had not been happy about that.
Sam took his own armchair, which was to the right of the couch. 
"What is it, again?" he asked curiously. 
"Is the only thing in the media you've ever heard Facebook? You've seriously never heard of Mario Kart?" Y/N asked, happily accepting one of the sodas from Castiel. "Dad really did a number on us. I was introduced to this through Charlie." She got up to grab the number of controllers necessary for four. Jack was eager to try the game, but he was always open to trying new things, something Y/N could appreciate.
After connecting them to the Switch, she handed them out to her brothers along with Jack before returning to her spot on the couch between the angel and nephilim. 
"If I remember correctly from what you've told me, it's a racing game, right?" Castiel asked.
"Exactly, except with a few quirks to make it interesting. Like, um...I could throw a shell and hit one of them and vice versa. Or a banana peel. I'll give them a trial run before we actually get into it. Are you sure you don't want to try it, Cas?"
Castiel shook his head. "I have seen how you play with Charlie, and I don't want to be on the receiving end of your anger. And I rather like watching you in your element."
Y/N smiled, blushing, before playfully pushing him. 
"I need to get drunk to stomach this," Dean said, offended as he popped one of the beers open and took a gulp. "Keep the PDA to a minimum guys, you've got a kid next to you. Alright, what buttons do I push to hit Sam?"
"What the hell?" Sam scoffed. 
"What?"
"We haven't even started and you're gunnin' for me?"
"Uh, yeah!" 
"Alright, alright! First we gotta pick our player," Y/N mediated, pressing the buttons to get them to the screen full of Mario players. "I already got mine." She moved her icon until it landed on Wendy, before selecting her. "Obviously the best character, hands down."
The three boys maneuvered their icons over different characters, for some reason taking it a little too seriously on who they would choose. Sam selected his first. 
"Luigi?" Dean scoffed.
"You got a problem?" Sam asked. 
"No, but...why Luigi?"
"Who cares, I just chose him."
"You have to have a reason, man." Dean shook his head, before selecting his own. 
"Why'd you choose Bowser, then?"
"Because he's a badass. And he'd beat the holy hell out of Luigi if the games lost their PG rating," Dean shrugged.
Jack hummed thoughtfully, still scrolling. "I choose him!" 
He selected Toad. 
"Why him, Jack?" she asked. 
"I like his hat."
Y/N snorted, but it was a valid enough answer. Once everyone was ready, she selected the settings for the game and then decided to use the time to explain to them how the controls worked and anything else they were curious about. After a few trial races, they were ready for the real thing. Castiel was sitting patiently, his hands on his lap. 
"You assholes are going down," Dean declared, bringing his remote closer to him. 
"So much for being appropriate in front of the kid," Y/N sneered, but she was just as ready.
She set the game to go through ten races with a random select for the roads. 
And with that, they were off.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" Dean yelled, nearly jumping to his feet. His first empty beer bottle slide across the floor from his rapid movement. "I DIDN'T EVEN TOUCH IT! I DIDN'T GO NEAR THE GODDAMN PEEL!"
"That might've been mine," Sam stated, smugly. "But Bowser also takes up half the road, so avoiding it was probably impossible anyway."
Dean squinted. "You callin' me fat, Sammy?"
Sam shrugged. "Luigi's doing just fine."
Y/N hid her smile as she hit her own item, snatching that smile right from Sam's face.
"Why did you do that?" he asked, incredulous, the red shell sending Luigi off the edge of the map. 
"You got in my way!" Y/N sang. 
It only seemed to get worse from there. What was supposed to be an hour of playing turned into four with the bowl of popcorn thrown across the room at Dean when he had decided to hit Sam three times with three separate shells before snagging first place and doing a lewd dance as a way to declare his victory. Y/N's hair had bristled up, becoming bushier almost as though it were alive. Her right eye was twitching, and her hands were cramping by now. 
Jack, however, was having a good time. He has gotten last place the entire time, but he was still having fun, and that's what truly mattered.
Castiel, on the other hand, seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack, not knowing whose side he should take because all three Winchester siblings were completely out of their minds, including Y/N.
Finally, it was the last race. Everyone's nerves were shot. Sam's hair seemed even more raggedy than Y/N's, and his shirt was stained with soda because Dean decided to take vengeance by chucking his pillow at him when Sam was taking a big gulp. They had to pause the game for several minutes while Sam fought for his life coughing and wheezing because the soda went down the wrong pipe.
"I'm afraid I must at least attempt to deter you guys from participating in another race. There aren't any weapons in the Dean Cave, but I'm sure you three will find a way to kill each other," Castiel said, worried. "Jack, are you okay?"
Jack nodded enthusiastically. "I'm having fun!"
"I will let it be known if I lose, someone is dying tonight. I will call Billie to fix it, but someone has to die tonight if I lose," Y/N threatened. 
"Good luck with that, I'm kicking all of your asses, and you can kiss mine when it crosses the finish line," Dean said.
"I don't even care if I win, as long as you guys lose. And I'll make sure it happens." Sam jeered. 
With that, the race began. Aside from Jack and Castiel, everyone was bloodthirsty. Surely no matter who won, someone was gonna be pissed off. Castiel was making a mental note to grab Jack as soon as possible and escort him out of the room while the siblings brawled. 
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Y/N shouted, jumping to her feet. "WHO DID IT! WHO DID IT?"
"I did!" Sam happily announced, moving to and fro with the turn of his controller, as though he were in the game himself. 
"I'm gonna get you, Sam," Y/N snarled, pressing hard on the buttons, trying her best to catch up to her brother, collecting any items she came across, but none of them were good enough, so she kept using them without thinking until she heard Dean curse and also jump to his feet. 
"THAT WAS ME, JACKASS!" he yelled, completely distraught. "I didn't even do anything this time!"
"You probably deserved it anyway!" Sam shrugged, continuing to maneuver through the AIs to get to the front. 
By that time, Dean and Y/N had caught up, and with all they had, they used their items to completely screw each other over up until every kart had passed them. In the end, they were the bottom three with Sam first, Y/N second, and Dean in dead last. And for a moment there after, nobody said anything. They were completely beside themselves in utter shock at what just occurred. 
"What just happened?" Y/N asked, deflating considerably. 
"We lost..." Sam mumbled. 
"Screw you guys, I lost overall!" Dean scoffed.
"I won!" Jack suddenly cheered, leaping to his feet and jumping up and down. "I won!"
"You what?" Y/N asked, shocked as her eyes trailed to the top. Sure enough, Toad was in first place. "You're kidding!"
"I can't believe I won!" Jack said, smiling as he high-fived a proud Castiel.
"I want a rematch," Dean commanded, sitting back down and retrieving his controller. 
"Yeah, me, too!" Sam agreed. 
"I'm down!" Y/N eagerly agreed, about to grab hers when Castiel snatched it. He went around the room, taking up all the controllers.
"Given that it's five in the morning, and just a couple moments ago you three were ready to quite literally rip each other's throats out, I'm going to recommend everyone get up and get to bed instead," he instructed curtly. "I think we should postpone a future night of games indefinitely, at least for a little while until you three can learn to control yourselves."
"What-but-you can't-" Y/N sputtered.
"Quite literally, I can shut off whatever is necessary so you can never play the game again with just a snap of my fingers," Castiel warned. "Shower and get some sleep. Jody already told us she needed to discuss something at noon tomorrow, and it would be rude if we were tardy. C'mon, let's go!"
With a grumble, everyone got up and cleaned their mess, ignoring each other vehemently as they walked out. Except for Jack; he was practically skipping. 
There was another good thing about tonight that he knew about. He was the one that triggered the lightning item that really stumped the three siblings and put them at the bottom three.
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Every Breath I (Can't) Take.
Sam doesn't come out of his room all night.
Dean waits till it's night, then goes out. He contemplates checking on him another time when he's back, this time with food, but it's the lack of sound through Sam's door which makes him change his mind. Maybe his brother had fallen asleep. And Dean definitely wanted him to rest. Kid needed it, deserved it - really fucking earned it.
So instead, he has dinner by himself, forcing himself to not think about any of it. The deafening silence provokes every bit of emotion he's felt that day to roar back to life. But he shoves them down, follows it with food, and buries it there with alcohol.
When he's finished, he can't bother clearing up. His limbs feel like they'll drop off. He's been on patrol most nights, and the mornings were used up trying to figure out solutions. He's done, and tired, and ready to pass out.
So he picks up his beer - huh, that's far too empty; so then he drains it in a single gulp, and picks up the entire sixpack, and goes to his room.
And that's that. He's managed to make it through the first night.
*
He doesn't know how he manages to fall asleep. He's almost sure he won't be able to, until his head hits the pillow, his back settles in the warm mattress and his feet stretch. He still doesn't think he'll sleep that night - but it's soon that he's completely knocked out.
It's a dreamless slumber though, and he wakes to the world, one eye blinked open at a time - a tired shell of a man; the weight of his losses just beginning to settle.
He gets up.
And tells himself that had he kept lying, horizontal, the pain would just have sedimented at the bottom, and that's just where Dean always was anyways. He'd have gotten crushed under the densing pressure.
So instead, he makes himself stop thinking again, and showers.
*
When Dean drags himself into the kitchen, his head painfully points out that Cas isn't there. Before, he used to be right there, with a cup of coffee on the days Dean was lucky, waiting to ask him how he’d slept.
(When Dean misses Cas, he always misses this version of him, who lived in the bunker and truly lived there too. Back then, Dean could breathe him in the sheets, find him in front of every shelf in the library, and hear him in all the hallways. He used to be so present. Good fucking times.) 
Dean's eyes involuntarily swept the place. As if Cas had snuck back in at night, and might be perched in a particularly camouflaged nook, waiting for Dean to notice.
As if he was ever coming back.
Dean swallowed. Hard. The thoughts he'd fought so hard to keep away were all pushing their way back in. The longer he twitched at Cas's absence. His chest started to constrict.
Gone was the sleep-roughened voice, though he didn't fucking sleep - still so gentle when it addressed him with a 'good morning, Dean'. Missing were the blue, blue eyes which followed Dean as he cluttered around the space to make them both breakfast. No longer, did Dean get to accidentally brush against Cas's shoulder in his hustle - and receive an upturned smile through his eyelashes, when he landed across Cas with his plate full.
Maybe Dean imagines it, but he thinks he swayed on his feet a little bit. And reaches for the counter, just to be sure.
Maybe he's still drunk.
Cas had walked out. And taken with him, all of himself. The talkative smile had disappeared; so soft, enthralling and oh, so contagious.
And then, dawned the earth-shattering realization that Cas was not. Here. Anymore.
Cas used to disappear during the day, angelic errands and noble mercies and whatnot; and Dean ate out at motels and clubs, most nights - but this was a morning. Mornings were what they used to have.
And the fact that Cas wasn't here anymore - that he'd left Dean, left him with that piercing speech, and those flashing eyes, and the finality in the air. And he'd not let it strike him yet - so it struck the hardest yet.
Cas has been wrenched away from him many times. There's been apocalypses, there's been betrayals and there's been the good of the world.
But it's only ever been a compulsion. Cas had to go. It had to happen. The World must be saved, God needed to be found, Lucifer had got to be beaten. And Castiel, hero that he was, such a goddamn courageous sonuvabitch - had to go! It was undeterrable, and Dean had always struggled to let him go - but at least, at the very least, it had always been demanded, all those times.
This time? It had been a choice.
And the selfishness he didn't know he'd been masking, roared in his ears; it was never fine to be away from Cas. But it had still been something Dean was used to, it was relatively okay if the reasons were unstoppable. If it was inevitable. But, this was different.
Dean grabs onto the slab tighter, because his knees feels weak. He needed to get a hold on himself. His head reels, but it isn't like he can stop thinking. One painful thought shoved the last out of the way, and each stream of scenes seemed to take him farther away from the present.
Cas had walked out.
Dean couldn't get him back and pull him home. Not if he wasn't being dragged away in the first place. And that's the crux, isn't it? Some part of sneered. He wasn't being taken away. He had decided to leave.
Dean Winchester had always screwed things up, messed up his life, and almost broke the world a couple of times - but Castiel had never left.
He'd lifted him from his road to corruption. He'd threatened to stay when Dean had the Mark of Cain. He'd refused to let go till the demon in him had been controlled.
And now, he was gone.
Dean's eyes sting, so he screws them shut, and his mouth is dry. He's been clutching onto the counter for a while now, and his knuckles are white now. He's heaving with every breath.
Cas was gone.
Suddenly, it was all that mattered.
Or perhaps, it was all that had ever really mattered, and all that would ever really matter.
But he was gone, and he was done with Dean, and Dean had driven him off, and he wasn't coming back. No, of course he wasn't, because he was moving on - he was moving on from Dean.
Dean's panting now. He has no idea why. He can't stop thinking - about anything, about everything, about nothing at all. He wishes he could. No, this was hyperventilating.
How could Dean ever have told him that there was no moving on for him. From what Cas meant to Dean, and the magnitude of e everything he took up in Dean's life - there wasn't any filling that, not with anything else.
He hadn't said any of it. He'd said absolutely nothing at all. And he should've. Because a Chrysler-shaped piece of his life had been ripped away, and Cas had walked out of the bunker and not looked back. And Dean could never move on from the way he'd looked at Dean - like he wanted Dean to stop him, but didn't believe that he would. Dean could never move on from any of it, at all.
Dean's chest hurts. His lungs fight for air, but his senses don't comply. He can't breathe, and he feels like he might choke.
Cas. Cas! Cas had left him. Cas wouldn't be back! Cas was gone. Cas was -
There are tears streaming down his face.
How had he let this happen? How did he not even move? Cas had been in front of him, why hadn't he been able to stop him then? How had he pushed him away so far, that Cas forgot how much Dean needed him to come back? How could he have -
Dean was a fucking asshole. He'd been a goddamn jackass. Cas should hate him. Cas did hate him. Cas needed to come back, but Dean deserved this, and yet -
"Ahh!" He growls, trying to make himself stop. He's trembling, his face is burning up, the tears won't stop. He needs to stop thinking, about Cas, about everything -
Cas doesn't want anything to do with him, anymore. Dean won't ever get to see those eyes again. Make him laugh. Fight by his side. Clink his beer to his, or make fun of his tastes in movies. Dean wasn't going to get any more of Cas.
Because Cas was moving on. He had upped, and gathered all of himself, and walked out of Dean's life. But he'd forgotten to take with him the pieces which were studded in Dean's soul, the wisps of grace that had flowed through Dean's veins since Hell had happened, and all the love that Dean had collected for Cas in his heart.
Dean gasps, struggling. He's sweating profusely, and he might have fallen if he hadn't been holding onto the slab. "AHHH!"
The last sound is wrenched from his gut, as Dean's hands give up on him, and he stumbles. He reaches out to catch hold of something, anything - his head spirals, he knows he's going to fall -
"Dean?"
Dean turns wildly at the voice, hoping in his state of desperation that it's -
"Dean, are you okay?" Sam runs towards him, his eyes wide with concern. "Fuck, Dean, what happened? Calm down!" His hands held Dean up, almost bringing him into a hug - or maybe that was Dean who was doing that. "You're having a panic attack, Dean! Sit down! What's happening? What do you need? Say something!"
"Sam." Dean lets his weight fall on Sam, but it still felt like all of the guilt never stops pushing down on him. His voice shivers, just as he does, as he looks at his younger brother, who looks frenzied at his state. Had Dean seen himself, he wouldn't have been particularly reassured, either.
"It's Cas." His voice cracks, and Sam swears under his breath, probably assuming the worst. And then Dean tells him. "Sammy, Cas left."
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lifblogs · 3 years
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Whumptober 2020 No 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING? Branding | Heat Exhaustion | Fire
Of Grace and Holy Fire
Castiel was alone, trying to find someone who could possibly save Jack, when the angels got him.
Fighting had almost helped him escape, seeing as he’d killed one of the two angels. But the other one stabbed him through the thigh, bringing him to his knees, and then held the blade to his throat.
“You’re going to cooperate.” An order.
If he himself was the only one who would be put in danger from his actions, Castiel would’ve slammed his head back while reaching for the wrist and twisting it. His attacker would fall back, and Castiel would end up with the blade. But that would risk his life. And he couldn’t do that to his family, couldn’t do that to Jack.
“If I take the blade away, will you run?” the angel questioned.
“What do you think, Azriael?” Castiel asked, tone dry, but laced with pain.
Blood had soaked into his pants, and was now running into the dry grass. The practically-dehydrated  soil drank it up eagerly. Castiel hated that soil. He wanted to tell it to — in the eternal words of Dean Winchester — fuck off. Why was it that one small patch of ground that angered him? Where was his fury at Azriael?
Maybe it was bleeding out through the deep wound in his thigh. Maybe it was drowned in the worry for Jack. Would his son even be alive when — if — he made it back?
“There’s no winning here,” Azriael stated.
“Doesn’t mean I’ll just let you take me.”
Azriael muttered quite a few words that would certainly keep a human out of Heaven, and stabbed down into his other thigh like it was a sheathe. His body easily held it in place. Castiel’s hands were grabbed as he let out a cry, and a knee smacked into his back, making him fall forward. The force of the fall pushed the blade deeper, leaving him screaming. It wasn’t long before angelic handcuffs were placed around his wrists.
Castiel tried to grit his teeth against yet another scream as the blade was drawn out of him, but it was no use. Azriael hauled him up. And Castiel found that his legs wouldn’t support him. This left him being unceremoniously dragged across the ground, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
It wasn’t long before they reached the road, and Cas was thrown into the trunk of a car.
~~~
After an hour of that ride that was so dull there was nothing to distract him from the pain or the catastrophizing thoughts in his head, Castiel began to wish that angels could pass out. They could, if hurt badly enough, or if made to by another angel. But Azriael seemed to enjoy going over every possible bump along the road, and he wouldn’t have nearly as much fun with that with him asleep.
Castiel’s phone started ringing, and he did his best to lay down on it to muffle the sound. Reminding Azriael that he’d left his phone on him would be plain stupid.
But maybe it was Dean. Castiel twisted, breathing hard and whimpering from the pressure this put on his stabbed thighs, and he managed to get his cellphone. He’d almost dislocated an arm while getting it, but it was in his hand now. He could tap to answer, but holding it to his ear would be impossible. A voice that would’ve sounded tinny, and muffled to a human, but was loud to Cas came out the end of the phone.
“Cas, hey, you find anything yet? The kid’s getting worse.”
Castiel’s heart fell at this, and he had to take a moment to close his eyes, to tell himself to breathe deeply.
What if Jack was dead by the time he’d made it out of this mess?
With that pressing hard on Castiel’s mind, he said to Dean, hoping he could hear okay without Castiel’s phone on speaker, “Track my phone. Get Sam, and follow me.”
“What?”
“Find me,” Castiel growled. The car shook, and he was jostled in the trunk, pain radiating down his legs. His phone skidded up near his mouth, and Cas felt a pang of guilt as he cried out, worrying about Dean’s eardrums.
“Cas?” Dean was panicked. “Cas, me and Sam, we’re gonna get to you. Just hold on.”
The car went still.
Either they were there, or Azriael had heard the phone.
“Hold on! Are you—are you hurt?”
Shoes on gravel. The trunk opened, and light bombarded Cas’ eyes. A grinning Azriael picked up the phone and said into it, “Not yet. But he will be soon,” before dropping it on the ground and grinding it underneath his heel. Azriael then grabbed him, dragging him out. “Come on. We’re here.”
Maybe in a different situation Castiel would ask where here was, but all he could do was think of his ruined phone. Had Dean been given sufficient time to track it? Probably not. He could try GPS, but was that even still intact?
Castiel was hauled up the drive into a house that looked newly abandoned. Before he could get his bearings he was shoved down into the basement, toppling down the stairs, shoulder dislocating from the fall. Castiel groaned, and tried to get up, but Azriael descended the stairs, grabbing him. He yanked his arms back in a gruesome pull, leaving him crying out, and whimpering. The cuffs on Castiel’s wrists were then attached to a hook hanging from the ceiling.
Nearly blinded with pain, he couldn’t see what was going on, but Azriael was walking around him.
“So…”
“Eloquent start,” Castiel said, putting as much snark into his voice as possible, which meant his tone wasn’t even enough to threaten a small cat.
“What’s left of the angels — well, we aren’t very happy with you.”
Struggling, Castiel moaned, voice gravelly. “I kind of... figured.”
“So we want to keep tabs on you.”
Castiel’s vision had cleared somewhat, and he glared at Azriael.
“How?”
With a snap of his fingers, an oven behind Azriael burst forth with flame, and metal was grabbed. He shaped it into a complicated sigil. Castiel knew what it meant. He knew what was going to happen.
“No! No!”
Azriael heated the metal in the flame. With a wave of his hand, Castiel’s clothes ripped at the seams, and fell off, littering the stone floor in tatters.
He breathed hard, crying as he struggled, as pain twanged through his whole body.
“Stop!” he begged. “You don’t have to do this!”
Azriael said nothing.
He just pressed the metal to his skin.
Castiel let out an ear-splitting scream that would’ve caused human eardrums to burst were there any nearby. Skin sizzled, bubbled, and burned. Even were this regular fire, healing from such a thing would’ve been difficult. But this was a holy fire brand. It would never go away.
The smoke swirling up into Castiel’s nostrils was just about enough to make him sick. A human would’ve been throwing up. Cas wanted to, if only to purge his system of it. And a human would smell the burning flesh and know something was wrong, but Castiel could smell the heat sizzling along the iron, could smell as each cell was obliterated beneath it. They burned away before it, the scent of his destruction filling him up.
Only seconds passed before Azriael took the branding iron away, and Castiel was old, ancient, but each second had lasted as long as a life age. The smoke stung his eyes, leaving them tear-filled. They would have been tear-filled anyway.
Azriael let out a disgusted sound as if he had just caught his adorable dog humping something. The reaction didn’t measure up at all to what had been done, or with the obliterating pain Castiel was in.
“Enough of that unpleasantness.”
Unpleasantness. Castiel tried to laugh, but it came out a sob.
Azriael grabbed his face, grip hurting. Castiel was forced to look at him. He studied him, look one of hatred, and then flicked his hand. The cuffs released. Castiel collapsed to the floor, grunting as he had to catch himself before the burn on his chest could hit the stone. His arms trembled, not wanting to work properly with his shoulders dislocated. And his thighs bled.
They were nothing compared to the brand. Its power reached his very Grace.
Azriael dropped a phone onto his ripped clothes.
“Call your boyfriend. I’m done with you. And Castiel… we’ll know where to find you.” He patted his chest, and then left.
Castiel stared at the phone for a few long seconds, but then picked it up, and he dialed that oh so familiar number.
It was answered.
“Dean.”
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xwaywardhuntress · 5 years
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You’re Not From This World (Part Five)
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Summary: Imagine the boys get sent to an alternate reality again without you, which leaves you stuck with the Winchester look-alikes, Jensen Ackles, and Jared Padalecki.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader, Jensen Ackles x alternate world!reader
Warnings: Swearing, Both worlds POV
Words: 2000+
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. This is fanfiction only. Please do not redistribute my writings on other sites, horrible or not. Thanks!
Author’s Note: Soooooo I got sick starting Sunday, slept all day yesterday (Monday) and somehow surviving today (Tuesday) so far but here’s part 5! xD
Part One, Two, Three, Four
“Jens? Jared?” The female voice spoke.
“Son of a bitch.” Dean cursed throwing his hands up in the air.
Sam had been sitting on the floor. “Did he just-?”
“Yeah! He did! He sent the wrong two back!” Dean yelled.
The female voice spoke again. “Dean? Sam?”
The brothers turned to face the familiar voice finally. Sam smiled with his hand behind his head, “Hey Catherine, missed us?”
Everyone sighed. Back to square one.
The boys explained to Catherine what had happened after they all had come across the witch and then was sent back to their world, how they met their Y/N and Jensen and Jared. They also shared the actor’s actions that helped in somewhat taking the witch down. Ultimately, it was Catherine’s counterpart Y/N L/N that had killed the witch.
Catherine shared what had happened to her after the last time they had met and encountered the witch responsible for the switch. She explained she went back to her hotel room and had to take some time to grasp everything that had happened. She also tried covering for Jensen and Jared to the crew saying they weren’t feeling well after a dinner gone wrong. There was a mixture of worry and frustration after hearing the two main leads weren’t able to work.
Catherine had come onto the set to grab the scripts for the episodes she would be showing back up in, along with the scripts for Jensen and Jared. Before heading back, she had heard a noise on one of the empty sets and that’s when she came across them again hoping they had been Jensen and Jared.
 - - -
BAM!
Everyone in the room immediately turned in the direction of where the sound came from. It was Castiel who had shoved Remph against a wall. “Bring them back now.”
“D-didn’t they recently come from the other world?” The angel of time asked.
You stood up walking over to the two angels with your arms crossed.
“Yes.” Cas answered still holding Remph against the wall.
“T-they had strong energy from the other world? I-I don’t understand.” Remph responded in confusion.
You sighed, uncrossing your arms as you scratched your temple. “They did come from the other world more recently, BUT only after being sent to that other world by the witch that trapped you.” You placed your hand on Cas’s shoulder, letting him know to let the angel of time go.
Of course, an angel would confuse things.
Cas let go of Remph and pointed at Jensen and Jared, “Those two are the ones that belong in the other world. Now, bring Dean and Sam back.”
Remph looked over at the pair of actors. He stared at them for a while causing Jensen and Jared to feel a bit uncomfortable.
You cleared your throat. “Hello? Can you bring Dean and Sam back or what?”
Remph looked over at you, sensing that you were trying to keep your frustration contained for his sake, unlike the other angel in the room. “O-of course. I-I’m sorry. I-I see it now, their souls do not match this world’s and the energy from the other world is slowly fading the longer they stay here.”
“Just bring the other two back first, please.” You let out a breath of air.
“Y-Yes.” Remph closed his eyes. You could see his eyeballs moving behind his closed eyelids. And then they opened, “I-I cannot reach them.”
Now, this was the last straw, you marched up to the angel of time as you got into his face, Castiel immediately went to grab you to hold you back. “What do you mean you can’t reach them?! You just snapped them away earlier!”
“Y/N, stop…” Castiel warned.
“No! I am not stopping till he fixes this all! It’s all his fault this happened in the first place for probably shacking it up with a witch back in the day!” You yelled.
Remph backed away from you, feeling slightly threatened when he bumped into something behind him. It was Jensen and Jared.
“Can you just switch us out for Dean and Sam?” Jensen asked.
The angel of time nodded his head in agreement, afraid he would say the wrong thing that would make the situation worse for himself..
“No Jensen! Who knows if he’ll even switch you both out for Dean and Sam when he said he can’t even reach them!” You yelled again, Castiel successfully holding you back still.
“We’ll be fine, Y/N. We sort of trust him? Thank you for keeping us safe.” Jared looked over at you smiling.
“Yeah, thanks for everything.” Jensen smiled as well looking over at you.
Both of the actors looked at the angel of time, nodding that they were ready to be switched out. Remph placed his hands on their foreheads, closing his eyes once again.
You stopped struggling in Cas’s arms once you both saw a bright light illuminate, but as quickly as it came, it also quickly disappeared.
The two standing before Remph looked no different. Castiel let you go after realizing you were done fighting against him.
There was only one way to find out if the angel of time was successful. “Dean? Sam?”
You stared waiting for the response, hoping it was the brothers.
“Sorry, it’s still us. Jensen and I. I think, right Jens?” Jared answered with a sympathetic smile, looking over at his friend to confirm.
“That’s me.” Jensen sadly smiled over at Y/N.
You looked down on the ground, your hands turning into fists beside you. Damn angels could never get anything right, aside from Castiel. As you were about to make your way over to the angel of time to beat the crap out of him, you heard something hit the floor. You looked up.
It was Remph lying on the floor unconscious. Castiel had made it to the other angel’s side as the two actors squatted to check on the angel of time as well.
“What happened?” Your firsts loosen.
“It seems he has exhausted all his powers. Perhaps this is why he couldn’t switch them back or bring back Dean and Sam. He needs to rest.” Cas answered. “I will bring him back to the room from before.” And then your angel friend disappeared with the useless one.
Jensen made his way over to Y/N. He placed a hand on your shoulder, “Hey, like you told me before, everything will be okay. Jared and I will help you in getting Dean and Sam back.”
You sighed. This whole situation was beginning to tire and stress you out. At least Jensen looked like Dean, so his small pep talk helped you feel a little better.
“Jens is right. We’ll help in any way we can.” Jared came from behind Jensen with a supportive smile.
You forced a smile on your face in return, “Hopefully, we just need to wait till that damn angel of time wakes up.”
Castiel appeared beside you suddenly. “I have brought Remph to his room. I can keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t leave before he is able to bring back Dean and Sam.”
Y/N nodded her head. “Thanks Cas, I appreciate that.”
“Shall we start the fun-filled job of researching?” Jared chimed in with a smile.
You shook your head with a chuckle. “I guess so.”
“Topic - other worlds, alternate dimensions?” Jensen asked with a grin.
You nudged Jensen. He was surprised, but if he was honest with himself, he was starting to enjoy how comfortable you were with him. He only wished it could be the same with Cat. Maybe one day it could be, whenever he and Jared made it back to their world.
Jensen, Jared, and Y/N researched for a couple of hours before they called it a night.
The three of them could only hope that tomorrow the angel of time would wake up and fix this mess.
 - - -
In the other world, Dean and Sam found themselves with Catherine in Jensen’s trailer. Everyone had their own laptop to use, with two borrowed from the set and one being Jensen’s. Cat would use Jensen’s laptop in between scenes, so she knew his password.  
From the last time they were here, the Winchesters hadn’t found anything that would help them get back to their world. It was luck that the witch had found them and through her, they were able to get back to their world. With the witch dead, they only had two choices now: wait for their Y/N to find a way to bring them back or continue to search this alternate world for a way back. The odds were against them, as it seemed this would be another world where the supernatural may have not existed except in stories.
“We should head out.” Catherine suggested aloud catching everyone’s attention. “At least back to my hotel, unless you two plan on doing some acting tomorrow.”
“No thank you.” Dean shut his laptop closed.
Sam yawned agreeing with his brother.
“Let me make a call to my hotel real quick.” Catherine stated before leaving the trailer for a little bit.
When she came back, she asked if they were ready as she had a car waiting for them already. They all packed up, bringing the laptops with them to continue the next day. When they arrived at the hotel, the Winchesters found themselves in a suite room.
“Awesome.” Dean smiled as he walked in, spotting two queen beds. “Sammy, you get one. And Y/N and I can get the other one.”
Sam cleared his throat as Catherine had her eyes wide.
“Sorry. You just – You look exactly like her that I forgot for a moment.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck.
Cat smiled almost forcibly. She wouldn’t have minded sharing a bed with Jensen without finding it awkward back in the day. Nowadays, there was no way that she could.  “The sofa actually turns into a bed. I can take that and –“
“No way. You’re getting one of the queens. Sam and I will play for the other.” The older Winchester held one hand out in a fist over the other hand. The deciding game would be the infamous rock, paper, and scissors with Sam.
Cat knew this always resulted in Dean losing in the show, but maybe things would be different?
Nope.Dean still loss with scissors, per usual.
With sleeping arrangements decided, everyone got ready for bed. Catherine had grabbed some clothing from the set for Dean and Sam before they had left to the hotel. Luckily, Jensen and Jared had some extra sleeping clothes in their trailer, which Cat had helped herself too as well. 
About an hour after saying their good nights, the older Winchester found himself still awake. This would be the first night in a long time that he wouldn’t be sleeping next to you. While thinking about what you could be doing right now, he was surprised to hear light footsteps from the bedroom into the living room where he resided. He kept quiet, acting like he was asleep when he heard the ruffling of a bag and jar open. That’s when he sat up from his bed and saw a bag of bread and Nutella jar on the table by his sofa bed.
Cat was exactly like Y/N. He thought. Trying not to spook her, the older Winchester spoke quietly,  “Late night Nutella sandwich?”
Cat looked up with her mouth full. 
Exactly like Y/N. Dean chuckled to himself, shaking his head.  
She swallowed the bite she took as she embarrassingly smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. When I have a lot going on in my mind, I tend to -“
“...eat?” Getting off of the sofa bed, Dean took a seat next to Cat. He noticed she scooted a bit away from him. It wasn’t the first time he noticed that Catherine seemed to be cautious of how she acted around him. “You’re pretty similar to Y/N, you know. I caught her doing the same thing when we first met.”
“No way. Y/N is a badass. The only thing I share with her is the name.” She took another bite of her sandwich as she expected Dean’s confused reaction. “I know I told you guys my name is Catherine. It’s actually my middle name. I just use it for my stage name."
“So your first name on your birth certificate is...?” Dean questioned, more for verbal confirmation.
“It’s Y/N…”
Next Part Six!
Feedback is welcome!
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qeterqujll · 5 years
Text
angels; your best friends are the four most problematic angels in heaven
characters: castiel x reader, gabriel x reader, lucifer x reader, balthazar x reader, dean winchester, sam winchester
a/n: i might try and do a few of these because these four are my favorite i literally cannot handle it. so this is kind of a prologue to that series.
Dean is glaring at you from across the room, staring distastefully at the other four beings standing in front of you. Sam is gone for the day, but Dean’s sure he’d throw a fit if he saw the group standing in their kitchen chatting away while you cook them pie– pie. They’re getting pie and that is not okay with him. Angels don't even eat and now you’re cooking them pie.
“Winchester,” Lucifer spits, glaring back at Dean, “I hope you know that I can hear you.”
“Good,” Dean bites back, crossing his arms as he stands, making his way to your side, “what can I think that’ll make you disappear?”
“Dean,” you snap, whipping around with a whisk pointed at the Winchester, “we talked about this. He’s fine.”
Lucifer’s frown shift’s into a pleased grin, sauntering over to you happily, not missing the opportunity to shoulder past Dean and replace him at your side.
“Lucifer,” Castiel sighs, beginning another unsuccessful attempt at playing mediator between the fallen angel and the Winchester, “you are being childish.”
“Oh, I’m being childish, little brother?” he scoffs, leaning back against the counter with crossed arms, “you should be talking to Gabriel.”
Dean shakes his head, staring at you as if to ask is this really who you invited to the Bunker? but you avoid his gaze and pretend to be very heavily invested in the eggs you’re cracking. Dean just sighs, grumbling something about angels being the bane of his existence before flopping back into his chair, brooding from a distance and scowling when Lucifer meets his gaze with a smirk.
“You’re just jealous because you’re not the favorite anymore,” Gabriel grins, “Don’t worry, Dean-o, we’ll be out of your hair soon.”
“Sure,” Dean scoffs, opening one of his vintage magazines with a shake of his head and an annoyed sigh, “last time soon meant two weeks.”
He very vividly remembers finding the four angels in your room in various positions. Cas he expected, seeing as you had always been close to the angel, but Dean always assumed you and Cas had a thing going on, something he was not interested in asking about. But Cas was not the one laying on your bed, head in your lap as he flipped through one of the books you kept on your dresser. No, that was Gabe, and your hand was actually in his hair as you looked at something on your phone.
Fine, Dean had thought, fine, two angels. One he could handle, and the other he could half-tolerate.
When he spotted Balthazar looking through the lore books on your floor, picking up one about angels and flipping through it, he’d been more than a little bit surprised. He wasn’t sure when Balthazar had come back, and he was definitely not sure when he’d gotten close enough to you for you to allow him into the Bunker, but whatever. Balthazar was irritating, sure, but at least he’d helped them with Cas when they were desperate.
Then he saw Lucifer, laying on your other side with his legs crossed and his eyes closed in peaceful contentment.
He shakes his head at the memory, glancing one more time at the group before standing and storming up the stairs to his room. If he has to stand one more second of those four together with you he thinks he would be better off with Crowley in hell.
“What crawled up his arse and died?” Balthazar comments as Dean storms up the stairs. You sigh, shaking your head as you put the pies in the oven, one for the Winchesters and one for the angels (they insisted they’d enjoy it even though you know well enough from Cas that they won’t taste anything).
“You guys did,” you snort at your own comment, feeling a few glares on your back as you turn around to clean up the mess you’d made while cooking.
“I do not understand,” Castiel begins, “why would we be up Dean’s-”
“Can someone please smite him before I do?” Lucifer grumbles.
“No smiting in the Bunker, please.” “You humans and your rules,” Lucifer rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t move from his seat to approach the still confused Castiel, who has let any part of the conversation after Balthazar’s comment go over his head.
“Can you guys just,” you sigh, turning back towards the four angels sitting on the opposite side of the counter, “please behave yourselves around the boys. They’re still warming up to most of you.”
“They like Castiel,” Balthazar sighs, “I don’t understand why any of us are different from him.”
“Would you like the short list,” you look pointedly at Gabriel, “or the long one,” your gaze shifts to Lucifer. “Do the words Tuesday and Apocalypse ring any bells?”
“Michael started it,” Lucifer grumbles, “besides, that was ages ago. They’re too sensitive.”
“Yes, death will do that to someone,” you scoff, leaning towards Lucifer on the counter, “I know you’re not exactly up to par on humans, but we don’t exactly appreciate being killed.”
“Thank you, sweetheart, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”
There’s sarcasm dripping from his words, but you ignore it, smiling happily and taking the conversation as a win. You walk around to the library, picking up the book you’d been reading on the history of vampires and werewolves, but it’s plucked from your hands and replaced by a lore book on angels that you have yet to read. You glance over the top of the book, but all four of the angels are minding their own business. You almost set the book down to find the one you’d been in the middle of when you hear, “if you’re going to read that nonsense, at least read interesting nonsense.”
You roll your eyes, gaze shifting from the angels to the page the book had been opened to in your hands, skimming the words before setting it down on the table, making your way back to the kitchen.
“That book says all humans have a guardian angel,” you glance between the four, “do I?”
“Well it did say all humans, didn’t it?”
“Hm,” you glance at your hands, clasped together on the counter, “who is it?”
“Would it make a difference?” Lucifer sighs, “we’re all here. None of us are going anywhere anytime soon, apparently.”
“Just curious. So all of you have a human you watch out for?”
“All angels have had one at some point,” Gabriel says, “but for most of us, our humans have died. Now we’re all stuck with you.”
“If you want to know if it’s one of the four of us,” Balthazar interrupts, “it is.”
You nod, waiting for him to continue, but he just meets your gaze with a smile on his face that tells you that you won’t be getting any more answers out of him.
“So it’s one of you. Then why do all four of you stick around if you don’t need to?”
“What is it you humans call...friendship? Companionship? Even angels get bored and you’re very entertaining,” Lucifer smirks and Castiel glares at him, but doesn’t comment. You snort, taking a handful of flour and blowing it at him, laughing at the unamused look on his now flour-covered face.
“Well I, for one, am quite entertained.”
“I am the most feared creature on this planet,” Lucifer deadpans, “and you just threw flour at me.”
“It’s the simple joys, Luci.”
In retaliation and with a single snap of his fingers, you feel what must be at least a pound of flour pour over you, covering you in the white powder.
“Well played,” you shake your head, a cloud of flour from the top of your head surrounding you, “you’d better watch your back.”
“You’re lucky you’re not a Winchester because threatening me would not be wise.”
You shrug, taking a handful of flour from the floor and throwing it at him, blowing a kiss when his scowl deepens. With another snap of his fingers, the flour surrounding him is gone.
“I still want to know which one of you is my guardian angel,” you glance between them, sitting on the only empty stool between Balthazar and Gabriel, who snaps his fingers to rid you of the flour covering you.
“Let’s just say we split the responsibility evenly,” Balthazar eventually says when the other three angels refuse to respond, “guardian angels only get one human to look after, and when they pass on we don’t get another human chosen specifically for us to watch over. And the one of us who is your real guardian angel will tell you eventually, but I personally don’t think it matters. I quite like this.”
He motions to the five of you sitting together at the counter and you smile, because you definitely like it too.
“You big ‘ol sap,” Gabriel shakes his head, snapping his fingers to make the pies materialize from the oven in front of him.
“Only one,” you remind him, “the other is for the boys.”
“I thought we were the boys,” Lucifer mutters with a mouth already full of pie.
“We are not boys,” Castiel states, “we are angels of the Lord.”
“Speak for yourself,” Lucifer scoffs.
“Sam’s home in a few,” you hear Dean shout from the balcony above you, “have fun explaining this little playdate to him.”
“Bye, Dean-o!”
Gabriel snaps his fingers and suddenly the silence of the Bunker’s kitchen is replaced by the sounds of heavy traffic and unfamiliar voices.
“Gabe,” you run a hand over your face, refusing to open your eyes and look at your surroundings, “where did you take us?”
“I believe we’re in Paris, darling.”
You open your eyes, the Eiffel Tower standing proudly in the distance. You turn towards Gabriel, who has taken a sudden interest in the the sky, although you can see the smirk on his face.
“Gabriel,” Castiel sighs, “we should go back. Dean will worry.”
“I’m sure Dean and that oaf brother of his will manage on their own for the rest of the day,” Lucifer puts an arm over your shoulders, guiding you towards the nearest cafe, “and I haven’t been to Paris since the Apocalypse.”
614 notes · View notes
unityghost · 5 years
Text
Resurrection
This, the twentieth installment of the Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels series, builds on two suggestions from readers.
1. A happy (ish) scene when Gabriel gets his grace back in a substantive way for the first time and has a real moment of hope for the future would be lovely. - Anonymous (Archive)
2. "I wondered if you'd ever considered what Gabriel's reaction would be if any of them (but especially Sam) came back from a hunt injured, and for whatever hand-wavy reason Castiel didn't immediately heal them [I dunno, send Cas out on a separate hunt with Jack, or be running low on grace and unable to, if I were to brainstorm reasons]." - @gammaspectrum (on Archive)
A side-note: As with Scratches, (yikes, that feels like such a long time ago - I get embarrassed rereading my old stories), I had to set this in Rhode Island because that's where I come from. I tend to feel uneasy mapping out anywhere else so easily in my head (except New York! Maybe sometime I'll do something fun with that).
Rhode Island has a wealth of vampire lore. Sarah Tillinghast and Mercy Brown (known as Lena in day-to-day life) are two of the best-known cases:
https://locationsoflore.com/2018/07/26/the-vampire-case-of-sarah-tillinghast/
https://locationsoflore.com/2018/07/07/the-vampire-case-of-mercy-brown/
Finally, I've written Jack as I normally would: all innocence. I'm pretty squirmy about what just happened in canon.
A general warning: this story (like many of the others) contains subtle references to sexual assault.
“What did you say these were called?” asked Jack.
Gabriel took a sip from his plastic cup of water. Stay hydrated, Sam had reminded him. “Vines. They’re called Vines.”
“I thought a vine was a plant.”
“Yes, these too crawl across the wall that is your brain and overshadow what used to be your identity.”
Jack squinted at the laptop screen. The two of them had gotten lucky with a reliable internet connection in such a run-down motel. “These do seem like something Dean would enjoy in his down-time.”
“Not him. Castiel. Who I think probably found them by accident when he was helping research those vampires they’re after. I happened to be in the same room at the same time and we spent an hour or two just, you know, watching them. All of them. Four hours, maybe? I’m not saying I’m ashamed, but also don’t ask me if I’m ashamed.”
“Sam and Cas said they weren’t looking for vampires,” Jack corrected. “The lore says ‘vampire,’ but they seem to think they’re dealing with vengeful spirits.” He paused. “Why’d you decide to come on the case with them? You hate Rhode Island.”
"I don't hate Rhode Island; I just remember that even in the horse-and-buggy era these people had no sense of vehicular coordination. Anyway, Sam said I can’t be trusted to be by myself for more than two hours at a time without going full Black Swan. And I’m in no position to disagree with him. Besides, I told them I could give them a hand if they wanted me to. Mother Sam insisted I need rest instead. But I’ve had more than my fair share of that.”
Before Jack could reply, there was the familiar billow of wings and Castiel appeared in the room.
“Guys,” he panted.
It was several seconds before Gabriel managed to take in the scene before him. Sam’s arm was slung over Castiel’s shoulders. His face was white and sweaty, and his breaths quick and ragged.
“Sam!” Jack leapt off the bed and hurried over to them.
Gabriel simply stared as they eased Sam onto the bed. “Sam?”
“I can’t heal him,” Castiel ground out. “One of those women, she - well, first she pinned me to the ground and then Sam got her attention so that she attacked him instead. Whatever she did, it took away enough of my grace that I can’t help him. And she seems to have stolen his breath.”
Gabriel blinked. “You can heal him. You have to.”
“I tried. More than once.”
“Try again.”
Just then Sam began gasping, choking, clawing for air that wouldn’t come.
Gabriel pushed himself up from the bed, and somewhere in his mind he registered the slapstick still playing in the background. “Castiel.”
Cas turned to Jack. “Call for help. Dial 911.”
“What are we supposed to tell them?” cried Jack.
“Don’t worry about that; just call them.”
Jack looked around for his cell phone and found it beside the laptop, under a fold in the bedspread.
Feeling dazed, Gabriel picked up Sam’s wrist. His heartbeat was quick and blurry, the surest indicator of a body in panic.
“Sam,” he said again, feeling dazed and distant, eyes trained on Sam’s purpling face.
Even though he knew it was pointless, Gabriel still reflexively tugged at his grace in moments like this. If he wanted to fix something he would normally be able to rectify with his powers, reaching for them was involuntary.
It was also humiliating, since he knew that there was no reason to expect results. Yet here and now, he reached for it, ached for it, hated himself for not having it.
As Sam’s pulse grew slower and weaker, Gabriel wondered what nauseating twist of fate could have turned this seemingly simple hunt into something so disastrous.
“Uncle Gabriel?”
Gabriel tried to speak and found he couldn’t. His skin prickled with icy sweat.
Am I panicking? he wondered. Am I freaking out and I’m not even really freaking out? Is my brain frozen but the rest of me knows what’s happening? What the hell?
“Cas!” shrieked Jack. “Something’s wrong with Uncle Gabriel!”
“Call 911,” Castiel commanded. “I’ll help Gabriel.”
Gabriel grew dizzy, and the next thing he knew there were hands on him, and then a second pair of hands.
“No!” he screeched, struggling, trying to throw them off, not sure whom to fight first.
“Let go!” Gabriel howled. "Let go of me!"
Someone called his name. Gabriel screamed, trying to force release.
“Gabriel!”
Gabriel’s vision edged in and out. He couldn’t see who was holding him down.
“Gabriel, stop! It’s okay, it’s us! It’s Sam and Cas! Hey hey hey, calm down Gabriel, calm down; it’s okay!”
At last, Gabriel managed to wrench himself out of their grip, then rolled over and, with a cry of pain, landed on the floor. He blinked, panting on all fours, trying to let things come back into focus.
“It’s okay,” Sam murmured, crouching beside him. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s all okay. You’re safe.”
Gabriel raised his eyes, trying to get a deep breath. “Oh god. Sam? Sam - ”
“Yeah, I’m right here, buddy.”
Gabriel shivered. “I’m freezing cold.”
“Okay, it’s okay; come on.”
Sam started to pull Gabriel to his feet, but Gabriel shook his head. “Dizzy. Can’t get up. Sorry.”
A moment later, a blanket was draped over his shoulders. He collapsed onto the dirty carpet, trying to will away his headache. The spilled cup of water stared back at him. An ant had crawled into it.
There was a rapid knock at the door, then a woman’s voice. “Who the hell is that screaming in there? Do I gotta call the police?”
Cas frowned and went to open the door. Gabriel couldn’t see who was standing there, but he heard Castiel’s reply: “My son, he’s … terrified of cockroaches. Right, Jack?”
A pause. Then, with surprising persuasiveness: “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life!”
“Jesus,” said the stranger, “Keep it together next time. Thought someone was bein’ freakin’ murdered.”
As the door slammed shut again, Sam put a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Do you know where you are?”
“New Hampshire.”
“Rhode Island.”
“Only two New England states with three syllables. Can’t remember which is which.”
“Can you get into bed if we give you a hand? Nice and slow?”
“Don’t even try.”
“Okay. All right. Gabriel, what do you remember?”
Gabriel closed his eyes, trying to think. “Got upset about … about ...”
“You were upset,” said Castiel, “Because Sam couldn’t breathe.”
Gradually, the picture grew clearer: Sam groping for breath, nearing a painful end on a bourbon-stained motel mattress.
Gabriel gasped and jerked upright. The room spun around him and he immediately collapsed again. “Ah, shit.”
“Easy,” said Sam, tightening the blanket around his shoulders. “I’m all right now. Everything’s all right.”
“But how?” Gabriel croaked. “Did it wear off on its own? Because the prognosis looked like a Maroon 5 cover band sounds.”
“Um … well … funny story …” Sam scratched the back of his head. “I think you healed me.”
There was a long pause.
Finally, Gabriel spoke. “That’s not a funny story.”
“You were holding onto me - like this - ” Sam grasped his own wrist, demonstrating. “And you healed me.”
The words swam through Gabriel’s head. He struggled to distinguish one from the other. “What exactly happened?”
“It’s really that simple,” Castiel explained. “It appeared you were caught up in some sort of adrenaline rush, or whatever the angelic equivalent might be. Jack and I both felt your grace - it was like an electric shock. There wasn’t much, but it seems you had enough to save Sam’s life.”
Gabriel turned his eyes to Sam, trying to focus on his face. “What?”
“Cas,” Sam said in a low voice, “If you can help me lift him, get him into bed - ”
"Oh shut up, Sam; I know I’m a charity case, but I swear if either one of you tries to carry me I’ll … I’ll, uh … do whatever I’d threaten to do if I could remember how to make words happen.”
“We just want you to be comfortable,” said Castiel.
“Are you kidding me? This carpet feels like a feather bed after eight hundred years of slimy concrete.”
“All right,” Sam said quietly, “All right. We won’t move you. Do you need anything? Another cup of water, maybe?”
“Not until I can lift my head. What about Jack, where’d he go?”
There was a moment of hesitation. Then Castiel answered, “He had to go outside. He told me the grace was … a little much for him. A surprise. He didn’t expect so much energy all at once.”
“Shouldn’t you have been the one who was affected? He’s half-archangel. He’s supposed to be able to put up with a lot.”
“Well, yes, but I’ve had more experience with exposure to other angels’ grace. It seems to have jarred him. He said he needed some fresh air.”
“Well, go find him. Help him. He needs you, Cas."
Sam and Castiel exchanged a glance, and Gabriel saw Sam’s tiny nod: He wants to talk to me alone.
“Okay,” Cas said to Gabriel. “I’ll go check on Jack. Sam, come find me if you need anything, all right?”
As soon as Castiel had shut the door, Gabriel said, “Start from the beginning.”
“Oh. Well … one of the spirits, Sarah Tillinghast, is supposed to have died of tuberculosis back in the late eighteenth century, then taken out her brothers and sisters in the same way by sitting on them in the middle of the night. The locals figured she was some kind of vampire and dug up her grave. Found the body well-preserved, which I guess they took as confirmation. So they cut out her heart and burned it.”
“Ah. I take it that didn’t do anything except double her beef with them.”
“Yeah, and some hundred years later, another girl - Mercy - same thing happened. Only she doesn’t seem to have been as malicious. People who end up near either of the grave sites report seeing them together a lot. Looks like they formed a friendship.”
“Partners in crime, huh?”
“Not so much. Sarah did most or all of the killing, and Mercy just sort of stuck around. I think she didn’t do as much to deserve the reputation she ended up with. Either she wanted to spend her career as a vengeful spirit being not so vengeful and hanging out with Sarah or couldn’t get away from her for some reason. So Sarah attacked us - Cas first, then me when I managed to pull her off him - while Mercy watched. Not like she was enjoying it. More like she was used to it, but it kind of made her sad. I guess Sarah takes away the life force in whatever she’s got under her; so for me that was the ability to breathe, and for Cas it was apparently his grace.”
“Did you kill them?”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, we did. Turned out they weren’t vampires at all, just plain old pissed-off spirits. We burned one of Sarah’s old skirts - the Tillinghasts have had it for a while; they said they’d held onto it for generations because they knew what might happen if a hunter found it. Apparently we’re not the first to try getting rid of her.”
“But why the hell wouldn’t they want her gone?”
“She’d killed off at least one kid every generation. And when a hunter first tried to get a hold of her, she got angrier and killed more. A pair of twins, the family said, and the baby that came after. This was all the way back in the 1940’s. And then I guess no one gave it another shot. Mercy was a little tougher; we had to actually dig her up to get anything that belonged to her. Dean is on his way back now. But listen, I’d rather not get too hung up on the case, okay? We need to focus on you. Are you okay? How are you feeling?"
“Not great. Don’t wanna move. Cold. Head hurts. Might vomit."
“Gabriel.” Sam offered a genuine smile. “You realize what this means, right? Your grace. It’s on its way back.”
Gabriel didn’t reply.
“Gabriel?” said Sam. “Aren’t you happy about that?"
“I …” Gabriel closed his eyes against the pounding in his head. “Yeah.”
Sam waited for him to go on.
Gabriel sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Why?” Sam sounded perplexed. “Why wouldn’t this be a good thing?”
Gabriel kept his eyes shut. “I didn’t realize I had that much.”
“So it should be a nice surprise, shouldn’t it?”
“No.” Gabriel opened his eyes. “I didn’t realize it was there, and … Sam, why is it that I’m still such an epic disaster if I’ve got enough grace not to be?”
A pause, and then: “You think you have to get back to normal just because your grace does?”
Gabriel swallowed. “It isn’t just that.”
“Then what?” When Gabriel remained silent, Sam pressed, “Tell me what’s bothering you.”
Gabriel’s throat tightened.
“Are you just … not ready or something? Is it too much to take in all at once?”
“No, I’m not worried about that.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
Gabriel started to speak, but the words were too heavy. There was no way he could say what he had to say without breaking down.
Sam spoke softly. “It’s that bad?”
Gabriel tried to take a deep breath but didn’t quite manage it. “I - um - I thought - ” He fixed his eyes upon the moldy ceiling. “I thought that if - that when it started to come back, and I got to be more like who I was - ” His stomach churned with the effort of keeping himself together. “I thought I could help you. And if my grace comes back and I can’t help you, then - ”
“Whoooaaa, whoa whoa whoa.” Sam held up a hand. “We’ve covered this before. None of us want you around just because you could be useful. And we’re not throwing you away if you can’t be. What’s bringing that up again?”
Gabriel clenched his jaw. “Lately I’ve noticed that you treat my brother as an angel first and a friend second. I figure that’s me too. An archangel, and then a passion project, and then maybe a friend. A pet. A stray. I don’t know.”
“Come on, that’s - ”
“And even if I’m wrong, it’s not fair if I can’t repay you. You deserve compensation for everything you’ve done. Everything you’ve sacrificed.”
“Why would you think we expect you to pay us for anything? We’ve been over this. You’re not a house guest, Gabriel.”
“Well, whatever I am, if my grace comes backs and I end up still feeling so afraid all the time, and if I collapse every time I use it, I can’t give you what you deserve. I don’t care whether or not you think you should have it; if I can’t pay my dues, I might as well never have come to stay at all.”
Sam shook his head. “We don’t want anything from you.”
"The point is that you should want something from me. So I’d like to be able to give you a hand with cases. To take the fall you just did and get back up faster. It’d be a good deal - you guys get a little extra ammo, and I get somewhere to hang out.”
“Gabriel, listen - ”
“I know it’s supposed to get better,” Gabriel interrupted, “But better than this is a low standard. And I hate that I’ll never be like I was. Because the the only thing I’ll accept is a total reversal of what’s happening now.” He paused, forcing himself under control. “When I left Heaven - ah, man, it was great. I had so much freedom and I didn’t have to conform to whatever stupid demands those callous asshats came up with. And I knew I wasn’t gonna go back; it was out of the question, but … there was also no replacing what I’d left behind. And of course I had to leave it behind; it was going to kill me, watching all that pointless brutality. But Sam … no matter what I did, no matter where I went, no matter how many friends or lovers or whatever that I came across - I could only pretend to call them family. I could use even enemies to distract me, and to remind me that I’d made a whole world for myself. But at the end of the day, no one and nothing could take the place of - of them."
Sam looked away. “I know. There’s no putting that back. Not really.”
Hearing somebody else say it was more than Gabriel could bear to focus on, so he kept talking. "Let's say my grace does come back to full power, and I don’t wind up half-dead on a flea-infested motel room floor swaddled in a dirty blanket. Let’s say I get back to normal, in terms of angel-ness. But in any case I’m still going to need you propping me up like a cheap Raggedy Ann knockoff, because I’ll get to thinking about him and I’ll run straight to you, whining for TLC.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “What’s the point? What’s the point in letting my grace fill up again if I’m still just going to need help all the time? And this drives it home. My grace is there, but me? I’m not there, Sam. I’m gone.”
Sam took his hand. “You’re not gone. I knew you before you got hurt. You’re not that different.”
“I don’t want to listen to make-believe BS.”
“Gabriel.” Sam tightened his grip. “You’re not anyone else just because you’ve changed.”
“Well, I don’t like that!” Gabriel was angry now. He tried to sit up but simply dropped back down, too weak to hold his head over the floor. “Whoever I was before all this happened, I never thought about it. There was a hazy cutoff between good and evil and I was happy to straddle the line. All I cared about was how to fix what wasn’t fair, and if that meant hurting the people who screwed with justice, I spent no time questioning whether to take them out. Then, in my downtime, I was happy to indulge myself: food tasted good, so I ate it; sex felt good, so I made it into a game. This was all so easy, Sam. I never wondered about something being fundamentally wrong with me. I never felt like just being in the same room with someone was a sin, because I make everything filthy.”
Sam stared at him, mouth agape.
“And don’t you dare try to compare this to your situation with Lucifer,” Gabriel barreled on. “This isn’t a you-mess; this is a me-mess. The kind of mess that would have Marie Kondo convulsing on the ground frothing at the mouth. I don’t know how to handle how much of a horror show I am. And how to deal with the knowledge that I can’t ever, ever be what I was. And then wondering if I was actually the same scum I am today, except then I was blind to it, and - and I don’t know if I want to be me again. I don’t know who I was; I just remember not being worried about it. I felt comfortable in my own company. The only thing in all of Dad's creation I found even remotely intimidating was pasta with ketchup on it, because what kind of freak does that, but Sam - I don’t want that me back. Because I don’t want to be any version of me."
For a few moments, Sam didn’t say anything. Then, at last: “I know you think that you were tortured because you deserved it. That it was meant to happen, because you were just bad. Inherently bad. And that Asmodeus could see that and did what had to be done.”
Gabriel looked up at him, and hated the kindness written into the crease of Sam’s brow. It turned his stomach to think that that was meant for him.
And yet, in spite of all that, Gabriel longed for this storm to stop: the fear, and the doubt, and the hatred. He wanted to be rid of the guilt he felt over having access to Sam’s affection.
Gabriel couldn’t imagine a world in which he wouldn’t be punished for letting that happen.
“But you weren’t,” Sam went on gently, “And he didn’t.”
“I’m sorry,” Gabriel whispered. “I thought I’d be happy. I just didn’t expect that I’d still be like … like this.”
Sam offered a small smile. “Well, can you at least stop worrying about being useful? Or thinking we’re gonna make you leave just because you’ve started to heal? You trust me, right?”
“I’ve run out of excuses not to.”
“Then take my word for it.”
“Mm.”
Sam peered more closely at him. “No, hey, don’t do that. You know you’ll make yourself sick if you try too hard to keep yourself together."
“I’m okay.”
“Gabriel, man, it’s just me. You’re allowed.”
“I - I know, I just … I’m …” Gabriel turned over, so that his cheek was pressed into the grainy carpeting.
“Gabriel, I can help you get in bed. You’ll be so much warmer. Just close your eyes if you’re still dizzy.”
The notion of warmth appealed enough that, after a moment’s hesitation, Gabriel replied, “Okay.”
Sam eased him upright, and Gabriel did as he’d suggested and shut his eyes. Getting into bed was quicker and easier than he’s anticipated, even if it did make him feel dizzier.
“You’re okay,” Sam said, sitting on the edge of the mattress and covering him with the blanket again. “I guess that healing really did a number on you, huh? I’m sorry you had to resort to it.”
“You were dying, Sam.”
“I know, but … I wish you’d had the opportunity to use it on something else.”
“I know, right? The other day there was this crazy stubborn pickle jar. Should’ve blown all my grace on that. Definitely worth the hangover.”
Sam searched his face. “Do you wanna talk?”
“We just did.”
“Yeah, but I feel like you didn’t tell me everything.”
“Oh come on. I always tell you everything.”
“Are you sure? I don’t know, you just seem … like you need something, I guess. I don’t know. Do you?”
Gabriel tensed. “What would I need, huh? You just gave me a hundred percent of my daily dose of coddling.”
“Gabriel,” said Sam, “Please.”
“Why? What do you want to know? What d’you think I’m gonna tell you?”
“Well, maybe nothing. It’s fine if you don’t want to, I just … I’d like you to be honest. It’s better for you than keeping it bottled up.”
Gabriel gave a harsh laugh. “As if I keep anything hidden from you anymore.”
“I know you do. I know there’s stuff you haven’t told me.”
Gabriel gave no response, because Sam was right: more than once, Gabriel had stipulated that there were memories he simply couldn’t share with anyone, not even Sam. There were some things he simply didn’t want Sam to see.
“All right,” said Sam, “All right. When you’re ready. Whatever makes you feel okay.”
“Ah yes, my pastime of choice: being okay.”
Sam was silent, and perhaps he was aware that silence was sometimes the trick.
Gabriel averted his eyes. “Don’t worry about me. I just need a little time to get back on my feet.”
“Mm. Okay.”
There was another hush between them, and Gabriel wondered if perhaps Sam already suspected what was on his mind.
“Sam.”
“Yeah?”
“Look, would you - I know you wouldn’t, but - I have to ask.”
Sam waited.
Gabriel steeled himself. “Would you ever take it? Would you dig into my grace if you really needed it right away, and I was being stubborn about it?”
“No.” Sam sounded too calm. Yes, he must have been prepared for the question.
“Because it hurts," Gabriel said.
“I know it does, Gabriel.”
“So if it’s there … I mean, you could take it.”
“We don’t want your grace. We want you to be okay. And taking your grace wouldn’t exactly help that along, would it? We care about you,not your grace.”
“I know, but …”
“Look, you don’t believe me. Not in the way I wish you would. I don’t think I can change your mind right now. But no, nobody’s gonna touch your grace. We won’t touch you at all if you don’t want us to.”
“You. You can.” Gabriel reached for him, and Sam held his hand again. Gabriel wondered if this ever embarrassed him.
Sam certainly didn’t seem perturbed. “How come you didn’t let me know what you were upset about?”
“Because part of me knows it’s a really dumb question. But I’m still … I don’t know … I can’t help it.”
“You should’ve asked me. Maybe if you hear me say it over and over again it’ll click.”
“Maybe.”
“Well, your grace is all yours. Do you know that now? It doesn’t belong to any of us. And none of us think it should.”
Gabriel stared up at him, fingers too limp for a proper grasp. He hoped Sam wouldn’t take that as an indication that it was time to let go. “I think about what would happen if it turned out you weren’t telling me the truth. I can’t get that out of my mind. Because it would be worse, way worse, than having Asmodeus barge in here and just snatch me up again. I know who he is. I know he’d do that.” Gabriel tried to keep his breathing steady. “But I don’t think you would. My guard is down. Around all of you, but especially around you. I think you really don’t want to do anything to me. Or I think that I think so. So when I get to dwelling on what it would do to me to find out I’m wrong, I just - I can’t - ” He coughed, trying to loosen his throat. “I don’t know if this sounds absurd to you, or if it’s making you angry, but to me it’s a real possibility. After everything he did? There were times he seemed like you, Sam. He wasn’t always throwing me into walls and raking his nails across my back. There were times I begged for him to help me, to hold me. Because I would’ve taken anyone. I just needed somebody to touch me.
“I know that sounds stupid. It was stupid. But I begged for it until my throat started bleeding and I puked up blood. And he’d come in and hug me and let me cry into his lap. The next thing I knew he was doing a whole world of gross to me, and I hated it; I felt exactly the way he wanted me to feel, but he was there, and I needed - I - ” Gabriel pressed his other hand on top of Sam’s. “I needed this. I took it wherever I could find it. And now and again I let myself pretend that maybe he wouldn’t hurt me again, that he’d let me lie there and fantasize that I had someone to do what you’re doing for me. But then he would stop. Of course he would. He always did.”
Sam’s mouth hung open. “You think I would do that?”
“No, I don’t, but I think about what it would be like if you did.”
“I’m not going to.”
“I know! But that doesn’t make me believe you! If I let myself really know, if I let myself say it’s impossible - that’s when I let it become possible.”
Bewildered, Sam shook his head. “You never told me about that. About letting him help.”
“Because it’s hard, Sam! I don’t want to think about it because how could I ever get so low as to need him to stroke my hair and tell me I’d be all right? And who was I to just keep letting him do it? When within five minutes of rubbing my back and giving me that little bit of comfort I’d screamed for, I was back on the floor and the only thing that shut me up was how much heavier than me he was? What if you did that, Sam? What if it was you?”
“Jesus - ” Sam went to pull away his hand.
Gabriel cried out and grabbed it again. “Wait, no! I’m sorry, Sam; I didn’t - “
“Ssh, it’s okay.” Sam tugged his hand out of Gabriel’s grasp and walked to the other side of the bed so that he could recline beside him. “I know you can’t sit up and I thought you might like this better.”
Or, Gabriel thought, It makes you sick to touch me.
“Look,” Sam said softly, “This doesn’t have to be a good thing. Not if you don’t think it is. I know you’re a little freaked out about it. But you can heal again. Or you’ll be able to soon. And I’m sure this side effect will wear off once you get more used to using your grace. But seriously, man - you should be a little proud of yourself. You did what you thought you might never be able to do again.”
“But it was an accident,” Gabriel whispered, desperately wanting Sam to understand that he didn’t deserve praise. “I was scared to the bone and it just sort of happened. I’m glad it did, but it wasn’t because I had the willpower to get things going.”
“You don’t need willpower. Not yet. Eventually you’ll get a better sense of how to handle it.”
“But Sam, if I don’t have control, then - don’t you realize what I could do to you? Or to Dean, or Cas, or Jack? Grace can be used to destroy too.”
“This time you were scared and wanted to help. It’s not as if you’d get mad at one of us and next thing we know we’ve gone up in flames.”
“Sure, maybe, but how does this work? What are the rules? Is it just - ”
“Stop.” Sam’s voice was gentle. “We’ll figure it out. But we can’t do it all today. I need you to take this for what it is: you’re getting closer to having your grace back. And nobody’s gonna try and take advantage of it. And holy crap, Gabe, get rid of that whole thing about me turning into Asmodeus. It’s not going to happen.”
Gabriel closed his eyes. “I know. But to me, you could be wrong. I don’t know Sam, I … I know it isn’t real to you. But it’s real to me and I have to be prepared for it.”
Sam shifted so that he could look down at Gabriel. “It can’t be real to you.”
“Well, if that were the case, then this would be a very different conversation.”
“I’m serious. I won’t let you believe that. It’s - it’s so powerful. I can tell. It’s killing you. If you don’t let yourself push that away, he’ll still be in your head. Easier said than done, I get it, but - you have got to let that go. I’m not him, Gabriel. I’m me.”
Gabriel averted his eyes. “That’s what makes it so terrifying.”
Sam sighed and lay back down. They were quiet for a few moments, and then Sam said, “Lucifer used to do it to me. Not that, not the same thing. But I mean - pretending. He wasn’t the one who came to me and helped - he’d wear disguises. People I wished could be there with me. People I loved. It was a little like what you’re telling me about, because it was really just Lucifer all along, but … there were times I genuinely thought I had Dean back with me. Or Dad. Whoever.
“Then I got out, and everything started to come back. You know how it is when Hell starts bleeding into what’s happening right now. So I’d see someone I thought was, you know, not him. And then they’d do something that he got so right - the way they smiled or talked or laughed. He knew everyone in my life so well. I’m not sure how he got into my head like that, but he did. And when I saw the real person doing that, I’d think no, he’s there; he’s waiting to show his face. His real face. It’s not as if that’s completely gone away, Gabriel. I know what it’s like to be afraid that you’re only seeing lies. That you have to be on your toes for a break in the fantasy. And I know this is different for you, since Asmodeus was the one who was there to help and for me, Lucifer turned into someone else. So I guess as far as you’re concerned, I’ll start breaking you apart and I’ll still be Sam. Right?”
Gabriel was too stunned to respond.
“And,” Sam continued, “I always have to ready for a change in someone else. Some sign that they’re not really the person I think I see.”
Gabriel simply stared at him.
“So I think I get it,” Sam finished.
Gabriel took another several moments to collect his thoughts before answering. “You ever think that about me?”
“He did wear your face a few times. Made you seem … demonic. I remember you had this twisted expression on your face; you looked like a nightmare version of yourself. I think he did that because I didn’t have any really dark memories of you. Well - some not-so-great memories of things that happened, I guess, but it’s not as if you yourself ever made me feel like I had to be afraid. So … I guess it comes to mind once in a while. But don’t worry about it; it doesn’t happen that much. I’m just saying I … I know it’s a weird feeling. And I know it’s hard to shake off. But you gotta, man. You can’t get better if you still feel like we’re going to hurt you.”
Gabriel clenched his jaw. “‘We’ doesn’t matter. It’s you I don’t want to lose.”
Sam opened his mouth to reply, but then there was a knock at the door.
“Guys?” called Castiel. “Is everything all right?”
Sam glanced at Gabriel, who said, “Let him in.”
Cas opened the door before either if them could do anything more and surveyed the scene. “Gabriel, you look - ”
“I know. What about you? Are you okay? I’m not the only one of us with busted grace.”
“I’m fine.”
“And Jack?” asked Sam.
Cas opened the door further and Jack stepped in, eyes trained on Gabriel. “There’s nothing wrong with me. But Uncle Gabriel - ”
“I’m sorry about that, fella. I didn’t mean to give you such a shock to your system.”
“It’s okay. I just … I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. Made me feel kind of shaky. Like I’d fallen down the stairs or something.”
“But you’re okay now, right? You don’t look any less like a baby penguin, so I take it you don’t feel too beaten up.”
“Uncle Gabriel.” Jack moved closer. “You’re upset. About your grace. I don’t understand why.”
Gabriel’s head was still pounding. He needed to drink something. “I’m not upset. Like you were saying, it just threw me off course.”
“But you look upset.”
Gabriel ignored him. “Would you mind finding some water for me, Sam?”
“Oh - yeah, of course.”
“I’ll get it,” said Cas.
Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. “You need to chill for a second. I’d get it myself, but - ”
“It’s okay,” said Sam. “Let me grab some for you. Be right back.”
It was strangely difficult to watch him leave the room. After so much discussion about Sam changing his mind, and choosing to abandon or hurt or loathe him, Gabriel wanted him within immediate reach.
“Hey.” Jack spoke softly. “Do you want to talk?”
Gabriel glanced at Cas, who didn’t say anything.
“No,” Gabriel replied finally. “You don’t have to babysit me. They’ll be back any minute and Sam will do his usual good Samaritan act and I’ll have permission to crack open like an egg.”
“You always have permission to do that. Anyway, I was thinking …” Jack bent down to retrieve the laptop, which had fallen onto the floor. “Either you can go to sleep - "
“No thank you. Can't say I expect pretty dreams in this state.”
“ - or we can go back to what we were doing. I liked them. The Vines. It seemed like you were enjoying them too.”
Gabriel shook his head. Jack peered more closely at him, and worry flickered over his face. “Oh no. Uncle Gabriel - ”
“Jack - ” Gabriel clenched his hands into fists beneath the blanket. “I hope you know this isn’t me.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s him. Asmodeus. The douchebird who did this to me.”
“The douchebird who did what?”
“Who turned me into this … whatever it is I am now. Look, it’s important to me that you know I wasn’t always this much of a wuss. That it would’ve taken a lot more than a sentimental conversation with Sam to reduce me to this state. I just - it hurt, the stuff he did to me. For so long. He taught me that everything is a threat, and to be scared all the time.”
“And you’re still so scared.”
“I’m terrified, Jack. I’m terrified of everything.”
“What about me? You don’t have to be afraid of me. I’d never hurt you.”
“I know. I know that. It’s just - ”
“Uncle Gabriel, you’re as safe with me as you are with Sam.”
Gabriel gave a weak smile. “That’s anything but your responsibility. Please just trust that this isn’t me. It isn’t me at all.”
“Yes it is.”
Gabriel closed his eyes. “Don’t say that.”
“But it’s true. He hurt you. That doesn’t mean he took you away. And besides, I don’t care if you’re afraid. Well - I don’t want you to be; of course I want you to feel safe. But I like you. You’re family.”
“You’re not obligated to like family.”
“No, I don’t mean I like you because you’re family. I like you because you’re you. And I like that you happen to be family. I’m lucky: I like my family.”
“That makes one of us. Oh - except you. And you,” he added to Castiel. “The rest of them can suck a - ”
“You need to go easy on yourself,” Cas interrupted. “You would never treat any of us the way you treat yourself. It’s hard to watch.”
Gabriel squeezed a fistful of the blanket. “It’s not like that. Not that straightforward. Self-love and whatnot, that’s - that’s a sick joke to me. I’m a sick joke. Jack, look, I just need you to understand that this isn’t me. Or that it wasn’t always.”
Jack rested a hand on Gabriel’s head. “I’m sure I would’ve liked you then. But I like you fine right now.”
You shouldn’t, thought Gabriel, and then there was the recurrent guilt of forcing Jack into benevolence that simply wasn’t right, because he didn’t know what Gabriel was. Didn’t know that the thing he was speaking to, the thing he was touching, the thing he claimed to respect, would never be anything other than what Asmodeus had made it into.
When Sam returned, he was holding a fresh cup of water that he helped Gabriel drink by supporting his head.
“You got all sweaty,” Sam observed. “Wanna take a shower?”
“You expect me to stand on a slippery surface without busting my skull open on the wall?”
“Well, you could sit down. Or I could help you.”
“Oh yeah, sure, as soon as that ‘sexy nurse’ costume I ordered on Amazon comes in. Hope I got the size right.”
“Okay, fine; when you feel better.”
Gabriel shivered.
“Should’ve grabbed a blanket too, huh?”
“No. I’m okay. Just a little …”
Sam waited.
“Chilly, I guess. And … it’s hard to get that stuff out of my head.”
“What stuff? The stuff about your grace?”
Gabriel didn’t want to talk about it in front of the others. He knew that Cas and Jack would understand, would probably even try to offer reassurance; but it was something he felt he needed to keep between him and Sam.
“I hate to be a little bitch,” said Gabriel, addressing Jack and Castiel, “But could I have, like, five more minutes to bug Sam? Cas, I know you need to rest, but there’s - I mean - ”
“Of course,” Castiel said softly. “It’s no trouble. Come on, Jack. Let’s watch some Vines out in the hall.”
When they were gone, Sam sat on the bed. “Gabriel?”
“Sam.” Gabriel could picture himself, could see his features crumpling and the tears sliding down his face. There was no longer room for humiliation. He was allowed, Sam had said. So Gabriel allowed himself.
Sam’s eyes brightened with worry. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“What you said - ” Gabriel took tight, shuddering breaths. “You said no, you won’t take it, you won’t use me - ”
“And I meant it.”
“You said you care - ”
“And I do.”
“That you don’t mind if I - that I’m allowed to - this - ”
“And I don’t, and you are.”
“But you still don’t expect me to pay you back, and that’s wrong, Sam!”
“It’s not, but if it was, I wouldn’t give a crap. Just relax. You don’t owe me anything. I promise.”
“You want me to get better, and sometimes I don’t know if I can. So I can’t even give you that.”
“Well, you will get better. And if it takes a long time, it’s all right. I’m not fed up, okay? This whole thing has sucked for you. And as long as you’re here with us - which we all like, by the way - I wanna get you through it as best I can.” He offered a small smile. “Nobody’s forcing me.”
“Your conscience,” Gabriel retorted. “Your conscience is forcing you. You can’t help it. You see a wounded animal and you have to help. Even if you - ” He let out a strangled sob. “Even if you touch it and get diseased in the process.”
Sam started to say something in reply, but Gabriel reached out and seized him, grasping with more force than either of them would have thought possible. “I wish I cared more about how diseased you get. I wish I cared more about you than I do about me.”
Sam gazed down at Gabriel’s fingers clasped around his arm. “I get it. It’s okay. I’m glad it’s okay for me to touch you.”
“But the problem is I - ”
“You need it, I know. You want it.”
Sam had said that deliberately, Gabriel supposed. He knew how much Gabriel hated that word, how much he needed to get used to it again.
“There’s no reason you shouldn’t,” Sam went on. “You can ask for it.”
Gabriel was silent.
“Gabriel … you gotta stop being so violent with yourself. Come on, I’m here; you’re not contaminating me.” Sam tugged his arm from Gabriel’s grip and, for the second time, lay down beside him.
“You shouldn’t let me be like this,” Gabriel croaked. “You shouldn’t let me keep losing control.”
“Why not?”
“It makes more work for you and it keeps me from getting better.”
Sam shook his head. “You really think holding everything in would be more productive?”
“I … I don’t know. I think maybe.”
“Well, I don’t. And you trust me, right?”
“I think so.”
“You know I’m not Asmodeus?”
Gabriel didn’t reply.
“You know I’m not going to force your grace out of you?” Sam coaxed.
Gabriel felt tears trickle over the bridge of his nose, across his cheeks, and into his ears. Yes, he knew that Sam wasn’t Asmodeus.
And that was the problem. If someone was going to take advantage of Gabriel’s grace, it would be Sam. And imagining Sam in the role of Asmodeus, as Sam Winchester, was uniquely sickening.
“Gabriel?” said Sam.
Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“You mean - ”
“I mean this.” Gabriel pressed his face into Sam’s chest. Sam seemed to have been prepared for this: he wrapped his arms around Gabriel immediately, as if on cue or by reflex.
Neither of them spoke.
I needed this.
Gabriel shivered, trying to soak up some of Sam’s warmth.
It’s just me. You’re allowed.
“Sam,” Gabriel whimpered.
I know there's stuff you haven't told me.
“Yeah, Gabe, what is it?” Sam replied.
When you’re ready.
“Sam … there’s too much you don’t know. Too much I haven’t let you in on. I’m sorry.”
Sam squeezed him closer. “Don’t be sorry. When you’re ready, okay?”
Gabriel shut his eyes, remembering the way Asmodeus used to hold him like this, and yet knowing on an instinctual level that Sam felt different - especially when Gabriel began crying again and Sam only strengthened his grip.
This - with its warmth and firmness - was not the embrace of Asmodeus.
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The Price of His Mistakes
Part 19: We Still Have Time
God blames his leaving on the mistakes and failures of his creations, but Eventually he will have to face his own mistakes.
ChuckxReader, CastielxReader
Chapter Characters: You/ReaderxGod/Chuck Shurley, you/Casifer, Sam Winchester and Dean Winchester, Rowena, and Amara, (Crowley Mentioned).
Warnings: Slight language, mentions of character death (Not in detail), and a shit ton of Angst and fluff :) 
Chapter Summary: You came to your senses too late and now you and Chuck may not be able to make up for lost time after all
*I know, I’m a horrible person :) but I promise you, by the end of this series you will see it was all worth it!*
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Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17   Part 18
As soon as Amara had left, her hold over you and the Winchesters broke, and, you rushed over to Chuck’s side.
“Chuck? Chuck come on,” you pleaded, eyes filling with tears. “Chuck, please get up.”
As Dean went to check on Lucifer, Sam came over and knelt down in front of you. Finally Chuck let out a moan, and you let out a deep breath, that you had no idea you had been holding, before slipping your hand under his head, to help him begin to sit up.
“Chuck, how do you feel?” Sam asked.
“You know when a bug hits your windshield? I’m the bug.”
Turning back, he looked up at you with those big blue eyes, and you could feel how scared he was. That’s when you knew Amara had been right. That’s when you knew that you were going to lose him.
When you all got back it had seemed like the best bet was just to give up. With God dying, the world was going to end, and even when you had god at his best, it wasn’t enough to beat Amara. Dean and Crowley went straight for the alcohol, Rowena was perfectly content just sitting there in silence with a cup of tea, and Cas, who thanks to Amara was now free of Lucifer, sat down next to her, just staring at the wall. Sam, of course, went straight for the books, saying that anything was better than just sitting there and doing nothing. Chuck just went back to his room, with a defeated shrug.
He was fading fast and all you could do was sit there and watch. “No.” You said to yourself. That wasn’t all you could do. He promised you, there would be time, and after everything you weren’t going to let that chance be taken away from you.
Slipping away unnoticed, you walked to the room where Chuck was staying and knocked on the door, opening it slowly to find Chuck sitting on the edge of the bed.
“It’s okay y/n, you can come in,” he said with a small smile.
Walking in, you closed the door behind you, and placed yourself right in front of him, letting out a sigh of disapproval.
“What’s wrong, y/n?”
You shook your head. “Damn you, you son of a bitch. You promised me, Chuck. You promised me that we would have plenty of time, and now we have no time.”
“I know baby, I...”
“No you don’t know!” you blurted out, eyes wet with the tears that were threatening to fall. “I was jilted Chuck! Just as I was going to get to know what a life with you could feel like, you left me. Now you’re going to leave me again, and I’ll never get to know how it would feel.”
Dropping his head, he let out a shaky breath, and you could see that he had begun to cry. You didn’t mean for it to seem like you were angry with him, because you weren’t. Sure, there was some part of you that was still upset with him, but really you were more upset with yourself, and with the idea that you would never get what you really wanted.
“You know I never stopped being in love with you,” you added. “Everyone saw it, and deep down I knew it, but didn’t want to admit it. Then when you came back, I was just so angry that I had missed all this time with you and I was angry with myself because after all that time I still wanted you. Now I...”
Hearing that your voice had started to crack, you stopped and took a deep breath, before continuing. “I have spent nearly a decade, in love with you, and you weren’t even here, but these last couple days I have done nothing but push you away, and when I finally come to my senses, it’s too late and you’re leaving for good.”
Lifting his head up, he just looked at you for a minute, before reaching for your hand. “Come here.”
With your hand in his, he pulled you over, to sit next to him on the bed.
“Hey,” he said, softly bringing his hand up to your cheek to wipe away your tears. “I’m right here, y/n, we still have time.”
Your tears were beginning to fall faster, and harder, but before you started to to begin a complete mess, you leaned in and placed your lips on his. Bringing your hands up, you ran your fingers across his beard, and up through his hair, in hopes that you would always be able to remember the feeling.
Pulling back you let out a breath with a sigh. “I suppose you’re not up for having sex right now, huh?”
“Not really,” he replied with a chuckle. “I mean I wouldn’t turn down the chance to be with you, but you would have to do all the work.”
“Eh, you’re right, where’s the fun in that?”
The corners of his eyes wrinkled as a big smile spread across his face. You had missed that. You were going to miss that. He was so beautiful and no matter how angry you were with him, you couldn’t deny that he was the most handsome man you had ever seen.
“Do you think maybe you can just hold me?” you asked. “I wouldn’t mind spending what might be our last night together wrapped in your arms.”
Scooting back on the bed, he laid down, resting his head on the pillow, and you curled up next to him, putting your head on his chest. For the longest time, you just laid there in complete silence, as he rubbed circles on your back, but soon the sadness washed over you again, and before you started to cry again, you knew you had to try to lighten the mood.
“So, I have a question,” you stated, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at him. “If you and I had gotten married, I would’ve became Mrs. God? And step mom to the devil and the rest of the Archangels?”
“Mrs. God?” he asked with a giggle. Before you could answer he shook his head. “No y/n, I wanted to give you a normal life. I guess technically you would’ve been, but you would be Mrs. Shurley, and you would only refer to your kid as the devil when he was going through the terrible twos just like any normal mother.”
That’s when it hit you. That little bit of anger that you knew would always be there. In his autobiography he talked about giving you the normal life, but you also got the impression that he just wanted that for you until the world ended. So why was he talking about it like you were going to have a live? You weren’t going to take your anger out on him, but you did want more answers.
“It seems to me like you know, exactly what a normal life looks like, Chuck, but yet you were worried that you couldn’t give that to me?”
His expression changed and you could tell that what you had said, had gotten to him.
“You do realize that being with an angel is not normal either, right? I guess, even though you say you left to give me a normal life, I don’t understand why you couldn’t of just stayed. We were going to leave, we were going to have that normal life, and it’s not like you planned on ever admitting you were God anyway.”
Reaching up, he brushed your hair back behind your ear adoringly, and you could see he was starting to tear up again. “I know I was wrong y/n. Deep down I knew leaving was only going to hurt you, but in my own messed up way I thought that was still better for you than if I had stayed.”
Placing a soft kiss on your lips, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back into his chest, before placing another kiss on the top of your head.
“I love you baby,” he whispered. “Don’t ever think, that I didn’t.”
With his fingers on his one hand, through your hair and his other hand clasped with yours on top of his chest, you both eventually dozed off, until you were startled awake by the sound of Dean’s voice.
“Come on you two,” he yelled, shaking the mattress with his foot. “It’s time to get up, we have a plan.”
“A plan? What are you talking about?” you asked sitting up and trying to focus your eyes on the older Winchester.
“Get your ass up so we can talk about it,” he replied, patting your foot. “By the way it’s nice to see you two finally getting along.”
A plan was one way to describe it. Since Chuck was dying, killing Amara was the only way to stop the world from ending, and though you agreed it was the right thing to do, you didn’t agree with it having to be Dean, who sacrificed himself in the process. You were already going to lose Chuck, you couldn’t lose Dean too. Sadly, there was no way around it. Dean and Amara had a connection, and that meant he was the only one who would be able to get close enough to her, for the plan to work.
You went to Mary’s grave to say your goodbyes, and then retreated to a bar, to wait for the sign that Dean had succeeded. If Dean succeeded it meant that he was gone, and you knew once he did Chuck wouldn’t be too far behind. He was growing worse with every passing minute, to the point that you were just trying to get him to hold on until Amara was gone.
Helping him into a booth along the side of the room, you sat down next him, and rested your head on his shoulder. You weren’t going to think about the fact that he was going to be gone soon, you were just going to enjoy every single moment you had left to be at his side. You were also going to do whatever you could to try to keep him alive for as long as possible, so when he asked you to get him a drink to help keep him awake, you did so without hesitation. If you had known, however, that in the couple seconds you had your back turned, he would disappear, there is no doubt in your mind that you would’ve stayed right there in that booth.
When you turned around and saw the spot where he had been, empty, you immediately felt the tears flowing down your cheeks, and choked out Sam’s name. As soon as he saw your tear soaked expression he looked over to the booth, before taking you into his arms, and when you saw the bright beam of sunlight coming through the window, you held him back. Dean was gone, Chuck was gone, leaving just you, Sam, and Cas. You were going to need each other more than ever.
The car ride to the bunker was spent in complete silence, and when you finally got back, all you wanted was to get to your bed, but all of that changed when you got to the bottom of the steps and saw Dean standing in the doorway of the library.
“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, running to jump into his arms.
It wasn’t long before Sam and Cas joined you, making one large group hug.
“Wait a minute, how are you here?” Sam asked, stepping back.
“Amara had a change of heart,” Dean replied with a shrug. “She had realized that she didn’t want Chuck dead, and that she just wanted a relationship with him. She zapped him there, and they are going to try to work it out. She even gave him back his light so..”
“So he’s not dead,” you blurted out.
You could tell by the look on Dean’s face that you weren’t going to like what he was going to say next.
“He’s not dead, but he’s gone again isn’t he?”
After exchanging a quick glance with Sam, he nodded. “I’m sorry y/n.”
Shaking your head you let out a laugh. “Not nearly as sorry as I am, though.”
Beginning to walk past him, you stopped and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Well I’m really glad you’re back Dino.”
He gave you a small smile and you walked to your room. As soon as you shut the door, you locked it and leaned your head against the wooden frame, letting out a sigh.
“You look like you have had a rough day,” a familiar voice came from behind you, causing you to jump.
Turning around you found Chuck looking back at you with bright blue eyes. Without giving it another thought you ran over and threw your arms around his neck, as you kissed him.
Pulling back, your brought your hands down to the sides of his face. “I can’t believe you came back.”
He let out a giggle. “Of course I came back. I promised you we still had time, remember?”
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A Form of Intel
Sabriel tickles. Semi Long.
“Is this really necessary,” Sam asked as he was currently getting pretty much a pat down. “You need to look somewhat presentable Samwich,” Gabriel stated without tearing his eyes from the younger Winchester. Stepping back to admire his work he tilted his head. “Look up,” Sam did so with irritance. Gabriel stepped back onto his step stool before playing with the moose’s majestic mane. “Gabe it’s  just a party,” Sam groaned as his hair was fluffed for the third time. “And you forgot who your date it,” Gabe said giving the male a wink. “Yes my fake date for a party we’re only going to for intel while Dean,” Sam started to grumble off. Gabriel presented a rather cocky face while sitting back and taking a swig from his wine glass. “While Dean’s… interrogating Castiel,” Sam shot him a look of disgust. “You can’t just…. Say that like that about your brother dude,” Gabe shrugged. “Why? He’s a grown man, he has needs too,” Sam shook his head. “Okay whatever, can we stop talking about this,” Sam asked running his hand through his hair.
“Aw come on Sam, I just fixed that,” Gabe whined putting the glass down and walking back over to the taller man. “Gabe it’s fine, we need to go, alright,” Sam asked reaching the end of his limit. “In a minute,” he mumbled fixing the black blazer once more. However this time he pushed a little to light. Sam jumped and quickly covered his mouth. Gabe stood back with a smirk playing at his lips. “Oh? What do we have here? Is Sammy ticklish,” the angel teased. “Don’t, we need to go,” Gabe picked up his glass again. “If you say so,” he said indicating to the door. “Your driving,” with that he finished his drink and tossed the cup into the sink. “Let’s go,” he said walking passed the taller male, swatting his butt. Sam jumped and let out a sound of annoyance before following.
The party had gone well, Sam had collected  his information and left it over voice mail to Dean. Good thing too as he had let Gabriel talk him into having a bit to drink. A bit turned into enough to make him not drunk but giddy. However the angel had a bit more than the average drunk, though it had no true affect on him, he did enjoy the buzz of being drunk. Letting a bit of the feeling take him over he found himself enjoying the night a lot more than he anticipated. However things may have gotten a little um.… well…. Unprofessional. Sam had opened the door finally after three attempts, Gabriel wrapped around his body. The two were kissing passionately while Sam stumbled into the motel room. Sam felt around for the door before one of Gabriel’s crossed legs kicked the back of it slamming it closed. Landing on the bed with a thunk Gabe retracted his legs and leaned back to break the kiss. He wished he had a camera to record Sam’s reaction. His hair was messy, his clothes were pretty wrinkled and off center, and the pout on his face was adorable. “Why’d you stop,” he asked still hovering above the other.
“Cause fun times over Sammy, time to sober up,” Gabe said patting him lightly on the cheek before rolling over to get off the bed. “Wel… does it have to be,” with his back still to Sam Gabriel smirked. “Well I mean, that’s up to you,” he never knew Sam liked guys. Dean, yes he knew, most people did. But Sam? Nothing he really saw indicated any kind of bi or pan sexuality. “Well you’ve got me this far,” Sam said spreading his arms in a t-like indication pose. “What messy hair? Messed up clothing articles? Not really exciting Sammy,” Gabe smirked. “Oh yeah, cause it wasn’t your plan to get me wasted,” Sam said sitting down on the foot of the bed. “Your not wasted though, you still have a legal amount of alcohol in your system that would let you drive,” he walked over to the bed. “I think you may be playing it up a little,” he put his knee on the bed and gently took Sam’s tie into his hand. Sam had a slight blush on his face. “So what if I am,” he asked looking at Gabe’s lips. Gabriel leaned into his ear. “Than your still not getting anywhere Sammy boy,” he laughed pulling back at the look of frustration and annoyance on the other male’s face.
“Teasing? Really,” Sam asked crossing his arms. “Kissing is as far as I can legally go with you, as you are under the influence. By law if we went any further it wouldn’t be legal anymore,” he gave a wink. Sam groaned. “Well I’m not gonna be able to work tonight, and Dean’s gonna be gone for a while,” he opened his arms again. “So now what,” he asked. Sucking a lollipop he popped out of thin air he gazed over Sam. “Why don’t you get out of your monkey suit and we’ll see,” he mused walking into the bathroom. When he walked back out he caught the younger Winchester pulling a thin gray t-shirt over his head. The thin pants on kind of of matched… well went with the outfit. Gabe had decided it may be humorous to hang around the Winchesters’ longer, so that meant a sleepover. Wearing a basic t-shirt and boxer briefs he sat down on the queen sized bed.
“So,” he said laying back against the pillows with his arms behind his head. “So,” Sam inquiered. “You decide on what to do,” the older angelic brother asked. “Not really,” Sam said sitting on the foot of the bed. An idea popped into the older’s head. “I think I know,” he said snapping his fingers. Sam found himself on his back with the shorter male straddling his waist. “I thought you said this was illegal,” Sam commented. Gabriel secured his balance on the other’s waist before smirking. “No, I said having intercourse while drunk was illegal. This isn’t,” Sam looked at him puzzled. “Then what is this, exactly,” the younger Winchester asked. Gabriel lowered himself to Sam’s ear, “Tickle time.” Sam’s eyes widened, before he could react Gabriel started poking and prodding at his underarms earning high pitched squeals and screams. Sam grabbed his wrists in an attempt to stop him. After a few more tickles Sam managed to stop the older angel…. However Gabriel wasn’t done yet. Sam suddenly felt something soft rub against his neck. Snorting he scrunched his head into his shoulders. The sensation didn’t lessen, rather it spread to behind his ears. “ Hahaha! Stop it,” he giggled shaking his head back and forth as the sensation mirrored on his other side.
”Why are you laughing Sam,” Gabriel asked bringing his head closer to the moose’s face. “Yhouhohor tickling meheheheh,” he tried to hide his face more when the sensation spread under his chin. “How am I tickling you if your holding my hands,” Gabriel smirked. “Dhohohn’t,”  Sam practically squealed. It felt like dozens of tiny spiders were crawling across his stomach. “Don’t what? You Winchesters’ are so odd,” Sam actually pulled Gabriel onto him now screaming in laughter as the feeling spread up to his chest. “Ghahahabe sthohohp,” it felt like feathers were swirling around the spider’s movements. “Why would I stop? I just started,” he leaned forward and started blowing raspberries on the taller’s neck. “YHOHOHU ADHAHAHMIT IT,” he practically screamed. Gabriel pulled back slowing his grace’s pace. Shrugging he smirked. “Eh, yeah,” he practically purred leaning back in and blowing raspberries on Sam’s neck. “PLEHEHEASE STHAHAHP,” Sam was starting to break. Huffing Gabriel slowed the pace and pressure leaving the moose of a man in giggles. That sounded a lot better to him. However he wasn’t anticipating Sam’s hands to find his sides and squeeze. Jumping his grace ceased it’s attack.
Sam panted, a look of evil on his face. “Guess I’m not the only ticklish one,” he brought his hands back to Gabriel’s sides earning a few giggles. “Ehehehahaha! Sthhap it Sam,” he swatted at the other’s hands. If he really wanted to he could stop the younger Winchester but at the moment he was enjoying the bonding. “Oh what was that you said? ‘I just started, I’m not gonna stop’,” Gabriel leaned backwards, Sam following. He moved his hands down to vibrate on the older angel’s stomach. “Ahahahaha! Shahahaham, I’m wharning you,” he threatened playfully. Well it didn’t come out playful but to him it was all in good fun. Sam laughed before moving up to his ribs. However due to being intoxicated he couldn’t tell how much pressure he was putting into his action. It kind of hurt. With a snap of his finger’s Sam found himself sitting against the headboard, a smirk still on his face as Gabriel panted. “Well...that was uncalled for,” Sam rolled his eyes. “And so was tickling me,” he added crawling down to the smaller man.
“Hey Sammy I forgo…..oh,” Dean had barged into the room. Didn’t we lock the door? Gabriel thought. “Am I interrupting something,” he asked studying the two. Pajamas, red faces, messy hair, panting, the scent of alcohol in the room. “Uh D-Dean,” Sam sat up a bit. He was clearly embarrassed. “W-What, what are you doing here? I thought you and Cas were,” Gabriel cut him off. “Thought you and my little bro were getting to um…. really get some information out of each other,” he said with a smirk. Dean’s face turned slightly pink before be turned to the table in the room. “Yeah um… forgot my pie,” he said before reaching into a grocery bag and pulling out a large store bought pie. Showing it to the two men on the bed he turned and strode out of the room. “Just…. Be safe,” he told Sam before shutting the door.
Sam;s face grew hotter before he laid back on the bed. “Damn it,” he groaned. Gabriel laughed before crawling up to him. “How about we call it a night Samich,” he asked. “Yeah sure, sounds great,” Sam let out another groan followed by a sigh. “Well, night Sam,” Gabriel placed a kiss on the hunter’s forehead. “U-Um… night,” Sam rolled onto his side and curled up slightly. This was an awkward night he’d never hear the end of.
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azazelsocks · 7 years
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vengeuse replied to your post: sometimes i think it would be really fun to try a...
you have a lot of scenarios??? i would like to hear them all thank you
LMAO OKAY UH HERE’S A CUT IT’S 1.3K OF ME BABBLING ABOUT BOY KING SAM
THE CLASSIC: it’s s4, Dean has gone to Hell, and with Ruby’s help Sam storms Hell to get him back
RESULT 1: Dean is already a demon. Depending on how Sam was characterized this could either end really serial-killer-y with them staying in Hell together or maybe Sam, using his newfound Hell resources, isn’t okay with it and tries to cure Dean? Boy king Sam trying to cure a demon is kind of hilarious to me because I don’t think any other demons would be okay with it they’d all be like “WTF my lord, what’s wrong with being a demon” and Sam would be like “no no it’s not that I don’t like demons it’s just that this one can’t be a demon” but that would also be so tied up in self-hatred for Sam because he’s a demon he just feels like he actually deserves it ahhhhhhh
RESULT 2: Dean is not a demon yet. Sam has to choose between Hell & his brother. On my Dean-negative days this ends way differently than on my non-canon Dean-is-a-good-brother days lol. either way, sam stays the boy king. you can’t take that back.
RESULT 3: The angels got there first. Sam is like “well that’s... not the worst thing that could have happened” but as he learns about the plans for the apocalypse, it starts seeming a whole lot worse. + because Sam isn’t actually there with Dean, I figure it would be even easier to manipulate Dean into thinking that his brother is a lost cause and he needs to say yes to save the world. Sam declares war. this one could end all sorts of ways like maybe Sam looses Lucifer by accident preventing Lilith from taking his throne and it runs pretty close to canon; maybe Sam faces down with Michael at the end and kills the vessel Dean in the process; maybe we get endverse but it’s actually Sam in the white suit this time!!!
actually i just thought of the endverse ending and i fucking love it i’m keeping that as a scenario on its own
THE POLY S4: Dean comes back from Hell, but he’s still a demon. Sam is with Ruby (who in this AU does not intend to raise Lucifer). Dean is upset because he’s a possessive fuck, but he’s also gained something of a new perspective being a demon, and it’s like... basically all Dean x Ruby fighting over Sam with Ruby usually winning because she has more experience and Ruby is all like “You’re not the only one who loves Sam or the only one Sam loves” and Dean is like “-splutters-” but eventually after a disaster they come to a truce to get rid of Lilith and put Sam on the throne and it’s a happy poly V or triad, whichever you prefer 
THE PRODIGY: Sam doesn’t make it out of the house with Dean and John and is raised by Azazel from six months old. I don’t know where this one goes I just like the idea of it. sometimes the other special children are his siblings and sometimes he’s the only child, the heir from the beginning. 
THE KNIGHT OF HELL: s9 Dean gets Sam back on the blood. I don’t really like the way most fics go with this bc they always end with Sam really dependent on Dean and like ... ehhhhhh. (This sambenny one by waterbird13 is a really good take on it tho not boyking) BUT I do like the idea of Sam pretending to drink it for Dean but actually taking it for the power boost. Thought you could lead Sam around like Ruby did?? THINK AGAIN. HE’S KING NOW. 
THE RACK: The crossroads demon won’t trade Sam for Dean, but he does offer Sam a way into Hell. See what you can do with that, he says. Better than what you’ve got now, right? (Look, if you like boy!king and you haven’t read Threefold Path To Redemption what the fuck are you even doing unless you don't like wincest or torture then okay)
TORTURER 1: it’s Dean whooooo is surprised. I have this headcanon that the longer a demon stays on the rack, the more powerful they are when they get off so I personally like this one because I just have this image in my head of Sam finally agreeing to get off the rack and Dean is thrilled and lets him off and then Sam force-slams him and grits out “We’re getting out of here.” Except once a man tortured into demonhood always a man tortured into demonhood OOOH especially because he wasn’t dead when he went to Hell (that would cheat Dean’s deal). (and yeah you have to shed blood in Hell but it doesn’t say torture I think murdering a bunch of demons on the way out probably counts)
TORTURER 2: it’s someone else, Sam’s personal Alastair, who raises not a torturer but a king. tasty
THE QUEER RULER: This one is just one where Sam is trans (sometimes I like it to be trans girl Sam and sometimes I like it to be trans boy Sam or nb!Sam) & it’s like...one more thing for people to be disgusted by and it drives home the “freak/pariah” themes they were going with Sam (kind of overshadowed by the addict themes, but they’re there) and then Sam takes the throne and fucking. owns it. this one is just cathartic for me cos i am trans
THE ANGELS: Sam has been dreaming of an angel with blue eyes and he doesn’t know why. I don’t know why either, but I do like me a Hades/Persephone boy king sastiel mmmm
THE SELF-INDULGENT SAMCEST: these ones are just... you know what, don’t judge me.
YOUNG SAM’S WORLD: idfk but this one is like a sitcom where Sam is still in Stanford and something fucked up on the boy king’s end and he ended up in Sam’s dorm and is out of juice so he has to crash for the time being. Shenanigans with Brady! Shenanigans with Sams! God, why can’t Sam’s life be normal!
BOY KING’S WORLD: Somehow regular!Sam ends up in the world where he’s the boy king (ANOTHER FIC REC (SASSY/GEN)) anyways 
1: Boy king Sam’s Dean has been dead for years; really, properly, inaccessibly gone. Mad with grief, he performs a summoning spell across dimensions (if he can’t have his Dean, a different one will do) with the Samulet as the focal point, but it’s a Sam that ends up in the circle instead of a Dean. This Sam has the Samulet on him because in his world, Dean died as well, before Sam was 18, and it was the catalyst for Sam leaving. These Sams have some things to learn from each other, cos other Sam has managed to deal with his grief and move on, and boy king Sam has managed to deal with his destiny, so I just think it would be a fun character study
2: Older Sam (s9-s11 i haven’t watched s12 yet but i probably will when it comes to netflix) fucks up a spell and ends up in Boy King Sam’s world. Older Sam is a little shellshocked from the travel, meeting his other self, and like...how much respect his other self commands? his other self even has friends and trusted confidants? being a hell-bound freak didn’t ruin his other self’s life? Boy King Sam figures out both a spell & Older Sam’s emotional state, and, because, well, he’s really helping himself, sends Older Sam back to his dimension with a few tips and some contacts from the old guard of demons who wanted Sam on the throne from the beginning. MAYBE THEY FUCK IN HERE SOMEWHERE
okay i’ve run out WAIT NO
THE SEASON NINE: Gadreel happens. Crowley happens. Being possessed by a demon for the first time since...Meg? reawakens Sam’s powers, cleanly, without the use of blood (he SHOULD be able to use them without blood, everyone else could) and SAM IS FUCKING PISSED. The healthy way to resolve this is Sam just leaves forever and fixes the big bad by killing/recruiting Abaddon.
 but I also have a pissy catharsis dean-whump version where Sam, furious, does exactly what Abaddon threatened, burns off Dean’s tattoo, and lets his most favorite demon have Dean’s body indefinitely. See how you like it, Dean. (HAS DEAN EVER FUCKING BEEN POSSESSED EVER??? NO????? WE JUST GOT THE ABADDON SCENE. MAKE IT HAPPEN WRITERS.)
okay that’s actually all of them. for now. maybe i’ll come up with more later! do you see my dilemma
EDIT: TWO MORE THAT I FORGOT
THE SPECIAL CHILDREN: it occurs to me that since the foresight kids (sam & ava) had initial visions keyed into the other psychic kids to start with… if sam had gone with Meg proper in Scarecrow and done a little focusing, it would have been unbelievably easy for him to find the other special children. whenever he summoned a vision he’d know where another one was. he could have hunted the non-premonitionary kids down before the death matches even started happening. he coulda won before there was even a competition
THE DEAD FAMILY: there are some who headcanon that hellfire takes you, guess what, straight to hell. Sam gets to hell, and finds his mother and his girlfriend are there?? obviously he rescues them from whatever tortures they may or may not have endured. jess learns all of sam, no more secrets, and sam gets to learn who mary is (and mary tells sam she was sorry, it wasn’t his fault she died).
EDIT THE SECOND: EVEN MORE THAT I FORGOT
THE FALLEN ANGEL: Instead of falling in love with humanity, Castiel falls in love with the boy who the entire world hates, whose destiny is to rule Hell, and yet is still pure of heart & soul. When he gives up Heaven, he gives it up to go to Hell.
THE GODSTIEL: Sam is the boy king. Cas is God. Enemies to lovers. A lot of snarky negotiation between the two as they duke out what exactly the roles of Heaven and Hell will be in this new world order.
CONSORT!DEAN: aka, what 90% of boy king fics are. i don’t really care? but it probably deserves a place here anyways.
THE REPLACEMENT: all those wincest aus where Sam uses another person as a surrogate Dean. fleshflutter had an amazing and absolutely horrifying one with adult!Ben. i have one with frenchmistake!jensen. absolutely terrible. 
THE AMPUTEE: Sam’s coup goes poorly and results in him being really physically fucked up, but successful. Compatible with most other AUs. Basically like...what if Sam wasn’t the all powerful godking we usually picture but just, still Sam, fighting through broken arms and missing fingers, and being badass at the same time.
If anyone reading this wants to steal one of these idears and write a fic/do art, blease, i will sacrifice my firstborn child to your boyking
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A Bedtime Story
Summary: Sam and Reader have a daughter, and it’s time to put her to bed without breaking any dreams.
Pairing: Sam x reader
Word Count: 1,671 
Warnings: None unless you count saying a fairytale creature isn’t real?
A/N: Okay so this is my entry for ‘Sam’s Birthday Celebration challange’ which is also to celebrate @impalaimagining hitting 3k followers. Congrats @impalaimagining on 3k you deserve every single one and more! I hope you like this, I know it is kind of early. Quote I got “Wait, there’s no such thing as unicorns?”. I hope you guys like this, first time writing Sammy so feedback would be much loved.
Sequel: Wild Mountain Thyme
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The slowing sounds of Sam’s breathing signal that the story you are reading to your three-year-old daughter was lulling him towards sleep, whilst the bundle of blonde curled up on his chest was looking up at you with eager eyes, showing little sign of fatigue. Leaning towards Odette, you tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, as you playfully whisper, “I think Daddy is falling asleep…” With a gasp she looks up at Sam’s lazy smile, returning her attention to you she nods. Stretching out her tiny fingers to cover as much of her father’s face as possible, she taps him lightly twice before deciding that he needs her fingers in his mouth to wake him up. As he grabs her wrist he pretends to nibble her fingers, laughing as Odette looks back at you with a triumphant grin.
“More” she begs, bouncing excitedly.
Kissing her forehead, you readjust the duvet so that she is buried beneath it, whilst you and Sam curl your bodies around her fragile form. The tattered form of what once your favourite Teddy, Mr Snuggles, becomes squashed beneath your daughter’s arms; His golden fur is matted in areas and his brown, glass eyes stare up at you - Waiting.
“Are we sitting comfortably?”
Nodding in response, she beams up at you, her brows furrowing as she shakes her head dramatically.  Wiggling for a moment, she pulls Sam’s large hand onto her back, pointing at him before instructing him rather sternly (much like she has seen her mother do before):
“Stroke!”
Laughing at her stubborn huff, Sam obeys, stroking her back and her hair the way she likes it.  Continuing with the story, which you and Sam wrote for her the previous night due to her sudden obsession with unicorns, you knew you were approaching what could potentially be a scary passage. Odette is only three, and living in the bunker with you, Sammy and Dean meant that she was fully aware of some evils in the world.
“Upon discovering a secret door at the end of the gigantic forest, Odette and Sparkles the Unicorn looked at one another. Holding onto Sparkles’ mane, Odette decided to take a step forward. The door slammed shut behind them, revealing a staircase. Climbing down the narrow steps, Sparkles’ horn was the only light in the dark area. Odette was scared when she saw how dark it was, she didn’t like not knowing what monsters could be out there. Usually her daddy and mummy protected her from them, even her Uncles Cas and Dean would comfort her when it was particularly scary. But they were nowhere to be seen, still drinking their tea and eating sandwiches in the forest.”
Odette tugs at the base of the book to get your attention. Humming for her to speak, you feel your heart squeeze as you see pure terror behind her bright (Y/E/C)eyes. “Mamma?” she squeaks out. Sam raises his torso, being careful not to jog your daughter. He says, determined to see what the problem is,
“Yes Baby?”
“You and Daddy will always be close by?” she answers, her brows were deeply furrowed and tears pricking in her eyes.
“Always” you assure as you pull her onto your chest, running your fingers through her short hair.
“We will never let anything hurt you. It’s our job” Sam adds as he kisses the top of her head. “You want Mummy to stop the story?” She shakes her head violently in response. “That’s my brave little princess.”
Taking a breath, you continue on with the bedtime story. “There was enough room for them to walk side by side in the tunnel, so they held hands as they walked further inside. Suddenly, a huge shadow appeared on the wall that towered over Odette and Sparkles; they froze on the spot and shut their eyes tightly.” You pause slightly, looking down to where your daughter is burying her head into the material of her father’s new suit, her brows have become deeply furrowed from concentration. She has shut her eyes so tight that creases are becoming visible around them.
“They both shouted for help. ‘Mummy!? Daddy!? HELP!’  Just as her strong daddy appeared, ready to take down whatever monster dared to threaten his princess, they heard a small squeak and realised that it was nothing more than a tiny mouse who was living in the tunnel. The light from Sparkles’ horn had made the mouse's shadow look gigantic!”
Sam clutches Odette tightly, the muscles in his arm tensing as she attempts to break free from his ‘suffocating love’. With a laugh, you pass the book to your overgrown kid, it is his turn to read and you have to interject otherwise Odette will never get to sleep. You know that Cas gets agitated when you don’t sleep while he babysits. Speaking of which, the angel should be arriving in about 15 minutes. Indicating the time to Sam, he gives you a knowing look before telling your daughter to behave so that he can read.
He doesn’t get more than two lines in before Cas is standing at the foot of the bed, a soft smile on his face as he watches his niece trying to untangle herself from the duvet. As she scrambles across the bed, he reaches down, lifting her up as she yelps “Cassie!” over and over. As he props her against his hip, the signature trench-coat becomes balled up in her tiny fists. His expression is intense yet fond as he greets her the way he knows she finds funny (not that he understands why it’s funny). “Hello Odette”.
Turning his attention towards you two, he attempts to speak whilst she giggles knowing it will be his only chance before he is bombarded with questions, “Y/N, Sam. I will make sure she is asleep no later tha-“
“Look Unca Cas!” Odette interrupts excitedly, grabbing Cas by the cheek with one hand, using the other to point towards the notebook which is resting on the bed. “Mummy’s telling me about Sparsles the Unihorn!”
“She means Sparkles the unicorn…” you decide to clarify, seeing Cas’ look of utter confusion.
When his expression doesn’t change you can feel Sam beginning to shift uncomfortably, undoubtedly over-thinking - worried that there was something bad that Cas isn’t telling you. His head hangs as he rubs his thumb along the palm of his hand - he mulls over whether or not to bring it up. His eyes meet the brilliant blue of Cas’ once he makes a decision. “Cas, what’s wrong?”
“I do not understand your reasoning for telling your young stories about creatures who do not exist. What is the purpose?” You silently thank the stars that Cas speaks in a manner which your daughter sometimes struggles to fully comprehend. Otherwise her whole world would have just come down around her.
“Mamma what did Unca Cassie say?” Taking in her large eyes, spilling over with confusion, you see Cas turn to explain.
“Nothing important baby girl” You interject, deciding that you are the only one who can solve this situation as Sam was staring into space beside you. “It is just so that they get to keep their innocence for a while, same reason that there are Zanna’s. It’s fun and provides them with a little more light in this dark world. Also –“ You don’t get to finish your explanation as a quiet cough comes from beside you.
Timidly, with all the emotion of a toddler who received nothing from Santa, Sam looks between you and Cas. “Wait, there’s no such thing as unicorns?” His voice is barely more than a whisper but your daughter still hears him loud and clear.
You begin laughing, but cut yourself off when you notice how deadly serious he is. His face mirrors that of the three year old in her uncle’s arms whose eyes have grown wide, tears pooling at the edges. A tiny ‘o’ is where her mouth should be, both her and Sam are looking at you intently, waiting for confirmation.
Cas shrugs when you turn to him for help, aware that it was he who put you in this situation in the first place. Swallowing, you run your fingers down Sammy’s cheek, your eyes flitting between the two young hearts before you. Switching on the voice you tend to reserve for when either of them wake in the middle of the night with bad dreams, you purr a response. “Babe, if you believe in something hard enough, than it must be real”.
Getting up from the bed, Sam follows suit, watching as you take your relieved-looking daughter out of her uncle’s arms. “What do we know?” you ask, as your eyes meet hers. “There is always a little magic...” you state as your rub your nose against Odette’s, your (Y/H/C) hair tickling her face in the process - “All you need is faith.” Gently, you lay her down in her bed, tucking her duvet in around her. “Trust,” you add as you look up at Sam, your eyes muttering silent declarations of love , before you look at Cas – he gives a slight nod of the head in response. “And pixie dust.” With that final ingredient you lay Mr Snuggles beside her, kissing her forehead in the process.
Sam slots his large, familiar, calloused hand into yours, as you step back and watch Castiel, your family’s guardian angel, sit beside your contented daughter. As you and Sam are walking out the door, ready to enjoy your evening out, you realise you forgot to say goodnight. Turning round, your spare hand still on the door frame, you finish your nightly ritual. “Goodnight, sweetie.”
As an afterthought, Sam adds to the end of your sentence “Be good for Uncle Cas. Me, Mummy and Uncle Dean are going to go find some magic.”
Together you make the same promise you do every time you walk out the bunker doors. “We promise we will be here when you wake up.”
Tag List: @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid, @aiaranradnay, @the-petite-lion, @rosey-persephone, @fairy-kill3r
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What I’ve Been Dreaming Of
“I thought you were dead.” Castiel murmured as he gazed up at him, his voice barely a whisper. His tone was more gruff than usual, exhaustion and worry becoming prominent. The weeks that Dean had been gone were long and worrisome. He had no way of finding the two wayward brothers, no way of communicating or knowing if they were okay. All in all, it was easily the longest, most mentally grueling month in Castiel’s several billion years of existence. Could Dean have died? What about Sam? Why couldn’t he contact either of them? Those questions plagued him like a broken record player, repeating his worries again and again until he finally broke down.
For the first week of their absence, Castiel spent his time in the bunker, specifically Dean’s room. Alone. Waiting. He thought that they would come home any day now. Maybe a little worse for wear, but they would come home, he had convinced himself. They just had to. He began to get antsy during the second week, pacing around the library that Sam occupied for most of his leisurely afternoons, the kitchen where Dean made sandwiches that were stacked high with various lunch meats and cheeses, the many bedrooms that had not been occupied since the Men of Letters were around. It seemed as though the more Castiel paced, the more he fretted. On the third week, Castiel stopped pacing and waited outside, expecting to hear the familiar purr of the Impala. On the fifth week, he was still looking.
“Yeah, but that’s no excuse to threaten war with the fucking Reapers, Cas. Christ, what were you thinking?”
“Dean, I–”
“That was a rhetorical question. I don’t want to hear it.”
Dean was angry, almost livid with his desperate searching. That much was painfully clear.
“I thought you were dead,” he repeated, the slightest crack in his voice. “I didn’t – I didn’t know what else to do, Dean. Tell me that you wouldn’t have done the same for Sam, the same for me.”
Dean just sighed and kneeled next to the teary husk of an angel that is his boyfriend. “I would’ve done the same thing.” He said eventually, wrapping an arm around Castiel’s shoulders with the barest of smiles. “Which is why I’m entitled to tell you that it’s a shitty idea.”
They both sat quietly for a while, neither making a move to get up or leave one another’s space. For now, they both were content just sitting there in the dirt, outside of a cabin in the middle of actual-fucking-nowhere. The roads had been blocked off by police before they could leave the area, so they decided to hunker down for a little while. There were trees where they sat, not like the ghastly pines of Purgatory, but maple trees with crinkly, orange leaves that were carried off with the occasional gust of chilly wind. The sky above began to darken, so one could only guess how long they sat there.
Eventually, the silence between them was broken. “Where is Sam?” Castiel asked, glancing over at the older Winchester. As the sun continued to set and stars began to shine, it was harder to see the more fine details of his face. The beauty of Dean’s freckles and the beginnings of his crow’s feet, for one. The stars above, gorgeous and twinkling, were still no replacement of Dean, graying hair and all.
“I don’t know.” Dean said with a soft, breathy sigh that created a tiny cloud of already-dissipating fog in front of the pair. “We were both interrogated in there and kinda bolted when shit went down. I know he got out, though. Before the roadblocks. He’s probably headed back to Kansas by now.”
Castiel nodded and stayed quiet for another few minutes. Dean didn’t seem to mind that much.
“We should go inside for the night, you’re getting cold.” Castiel said, slowly standing up on weary legs. He offered a hand to Dean, who gratefully took it and stood up alongside him. The pair walked to the back door, which was currently hanging a bit strange on its hinges. Before Dean could comment, Castiel clarified for the sorry state of the door. “I couldn’t pick the lock.” He explained.
Dean genuinely laughed for the first time in weeks. He followed Castiel inside the cabin, which was abandoned by its owners for the season (but was inhabited by a certain angel for several days). The door could still lock, though, which was a miracle in and of itself. Castiel took a shower first while Dean absently looked over the owner’s DVD collection. It wasn’t terrible, but there were (almost) too many cheesy ‘80s comedies if you asked him. But if he was being honest, zoning out to Clue or Star Wars with Castiel cuddled up to his side didn’t sound awful, really. In fact, that’s all Dean wanted right now.
It wasn’t much later that Castiel finished up in the shower and they silently traded places. After Dean had stripped down to his boxers behind the locked door of the bathroom, he surveyed his body’s damage in the slightly fogged mirror. There were pink scars, red scabs, and dried blood all over him, all from the “methods” used to get him to confess to the assassination of the now-late president. It was a miracle nothing was infected, really. Or at least, it didn’t feel like anything was.
“Jesus,” he muttered, tracing his fingers along a particularly gnarly scar, just of the many that covered him. Dean was really getting too old for this. The hot water stung as he stepped inside the shower, but Dean knew he needed it, so he grit his teeth and washed up anyway.
When he got out, Dean walked into the bedroom, where Castiel was already laying under the covers. The angel seemed tired, exhausted, but as the hunter walked in clad in boxers and a pair of pajama pants belonging to the cabin’s owner, he sat up, now wide awake. “What happened to you?” Castiel asked, sounding mortified as he scanned over Dean’s various injuries - some healed and others not.
Dean crawled under the covers beside him. “I don’t really want to talk about it today,” he admitted with a mumble. His boyfriend just nodded, gingerly wrapping an arm around his beloved’s pronounced shoulders. “That’s… That’s alright.” He assured. “Sleep, Dean. You need it.”
Dean didn't sleep. Instead, he tossed and turned all night as Castiel slept soundly by his side. He just couldn't get comfortable, couldn't tell his own mind to just shut up. God, it was killing him. The sleeplessness; the worry that continued to prod at his cluttered brain.
“Stop thinking so much,” Castiel grumbled in his low tone of voice, peeking open his blue eyes. He didn't like it when Dean was like this, and being around a tired Dean wasn't very fun. “You overthink things far too much.”
The green-eyed man simply smiled a little to reassure him, brushing back the angel’s messy hair with endearment. His fingers tangled in the dark strands and Dean let out a small sigh. There were times during his torture that he thought about touching the angel who saved him.
“Are you sure that you're okay, Dean?” He continued, obviously concerned. Castiel had been concerned about Dean ever since they found each other again, and the latter of which didn't know how to feel about it.
“Uh. No, not really,” Dean answered honestly as he closed his eyes again. “I just don’t want to think about it anymore, Cas. I don’t want to think about any of it. This entire lousy month, hunting… I’m just… I can’t.” His voice was quiet, like he was admitting to some sort of terrible, long-kept secret. His gaze was fixed onto the worn wooden floorboards, where the moonlight had crept in and cast itself on each rigid fiber.
Castiel combed his fingers through Dean’s hair in return, sharing a gentle look with him. They always liked to touch each other like this, to take turns. “You have dedicated a lifetime to saving others, Dean. This isn’t your fight anymore, if it ever truly was. Let someone else finish it.”
Dean was quiet for a solid minute, just meeting Castiel’s gaze with a clenched jaw and furrowed brows. After everything they had been through, especially recently with God and Amara and now the fucking Secret Service, Cas just wanted him to quit? Take the easy way out and live some apple pie life, while other hunters, good people, died for the greater good? Died for him?
The mere idea of living that kind of happy life with Cas was enticing. It was a life without worry. A life of homemade meals and morning blowjobs with his favorite blue-eyed and backwards-tie-wearing angel. It was like a redo of the life that Lisa had tried to give him with her son Ben when he just wasn’t ready for it, but something like that was what Dean could get on board with, or at the very least consider. None of this he would admit aloud, of course. Verbalizing the fact that he wanted to settle down and live out his days in peace made it too real. Too tangible. Castiel seemed to understand, though, and for that Dean was incredibly grateful.
“Shut up and kiss me,” the Winchester said eventually, meeting the angel’s fond gaze with a slight smirk of rebellion.
And so he did.
Dean wanted a kiss that was rough and nearly all tongue; the kind that would leave them both breathless and desperate, rutting up against one another until climax. That wasn’t what Castiel gave him, though. This kiss began as a tease, almost. The barest of brushes of the angel’s lips against Dean’s. And that’s all it was, just a simple PG kiss, not the hot and heavy make out session that Dean was convinced he needed. And sure, maybe it wasn’t the kind of thing he craved, but it was… nice. Short-lived, if he had to complain.
“Dean?” Castiel asked as they parted, much too soon for the hunter’s liking.
“Yeah?”
“I love you,” the angel reminded Dean as he sat up and straddled him. “Tell me what you need.”
“You,” Dean said simply. Before he elaborated on exactly what it was that he wanted, Castiel was already taking action. He pressed kisses along Dean's neck and chest, making a point to kiss each scar – new or old – that he came across. Maybe that was one of the perks of being with Cas for so long: with only one word, or a look shared between them, they knew how to take care of the other. Knew what they needed.
That was exactly what Castiel did. He seemed to almost cherish every inch of Dean’s scarred body, beginning with his chest, eventually working up to his neck. He had rebuilt all of it himself, which made everything even more special and intimate.
“Will you kiss me again?”
Castiel just smiled at that, looking down at Dean as though he was the most gorgeous, precious being in the entire world. Dean had a black eye for crying out loud, more scars and imperfections than he could possibly count, but Castiel still found him to be desirable. That brought Dean more comfort than he knew how to express, and if Dean had wished he would have healed him, but he didn't. Dean liked to keep his scars because they reminded him that he had been strong. Even if he wasn’t now, he was at some point and he could be again.
They kissed again and it didn't start out nearly as gentle that time. Instead, Cas seemed to dominate it which was what Dean had initially wanted. It was all tongue and clashing teeth as they made out without much of a care for anything else besides the two of them. And sure, maybe Dean was at the top of everyone’s most-wanted list. Maybe he had more battles to face. Right then, however, in that moment where Dean could only feel love and safety, neither villains nor battles seemed to matter to him. Castiel and Dean didn't want to think about what tomorrow could bring, so they just didn't. To Dean, it was that simple.
With trial and error, they could make this apple pie life away from hunting and pain and death eventually work out for the better. Even after twenty minutes of foreplay, when Castiel prepped himself with the absentee cabin guy's lube and mounted Dean without much hesitance, part of his mind lingered on that thought. The hope that they could live a life that he almost felt guilty for wanting, but wholeheartedly needed.
This turned out a bit different than what I promised, but I'm still happy with the results. My best friend Katie (@dean-why) edited for me and helped make this ficlet what it is. You can send me prompts! My ask box is always open. (My upload on ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9436676)
@indecentdestiel @lover-awakened @smack-that-assbutt @myfavoritebisexual @fvckingjensen @fvckingcastiel @ughcas @deancasheadcanons @destieldrabblesdaily @thebloggerbloggerfun @spn-or-die47 @justnonsense @yourspecialeyes
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