#in which crowley attempts to deal with the grief

[minutestildawn]

crowley starts a journal to deal with the grief.

#in which crowley attempts to deal with the grief #it’s a slow process #but it’s ok #it’ll be ok #Nina and Maggie are trying to help #good omens #good omens fanart #goodomens2 #crowley #goodomens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffible husbands

[feraltuxedo]

The Runaway by FeralTuxedo Rated E Summary: DI Aziraphale Fell is tasked with investigating the death of a young sex worker. With the help of witness Anthony Crowley, he sets off on a mission to uncover dark secrets while keeping his own. If anyone finds out that the victim spent the last night of his life with him, everything could be over. A gritty cop drama AU.

Started posting my new AU! I know, now is a weird time to do that, but I've been sitting on this one for a while and I'm quite excited about it. It's a shamelessly trope-y gritty crime thriller/drama. Detective Aziraphale and sex worker Crowley solve a murder mystery together. Complications and smut ensue.

Excerpt from chapter 1 under the cut.

They entered yet another identical room. A small bed in a small space with a small window looking out onto the enormous car park. The witness lay back on the bed, his all black clothes and fiery red hair stark against the white sheets. He had his forearms crossed behind his head, which he lifted in irritation as if he’d just been interrupted from his nap.

He made no effort to move or to sit up, and so Aziraphale squeezed himself onto the thin sliver of bed free between his long legs and the edge of the mattress. Like a hospital visitor at a sick bed.

‘I’m Detective Inspector Aziraphale Fell,’ he began, ‘and over there is my colleague Detective Constable Anathema Device. You’ve met her already.’

‘Yeah, I remember.’

The man winked at Device, but she was much too cool-headed to react to it.

‘So.’ The word was long and flat in his accent. ‘Is this where you ask me all the same questions she did earlier so you can see if I’m lying?’

‘Yes,’ Aziraphale said simply.

Behind him, Device shifted uncomfortably. But Aziraphale knew this type of witness, too. The type that didn’t need kindly reassurances as much as straightforward honesty. The type that hid their trauma behind a facade of cool detachment.

Anthony Crowley would be just like that. Inappropriate jokes and laddish posturing, anything to distract from the horrible sight Aziraphale knew he would not forget anytime soon. From the grief that was, at this very moment, building and gaining momentum at the pit of his stomach, ready to rise up and consume him.

‘If you could just repeat your name, age, and address. And perhaps this would be easier if you were to sit up.’

Anthony Crowley grinned and wiggled on the mattress.

‘Yeah I bet it would be easier. But I’m really comfortable like this, so you’ll just have to deal with it.’

Device actually huffed. Unprofessional perhaps, but then she had been subjected to this man’s maddening attempts at provocation much longer than Aziraphale had. He crossed his arms and waited. The man relented.

‘Anthony James Crowley. I live at 666 Eden Close in Kilburn, and I’m twenty-three.’

Twenty-three. Barely older than Ryan Jones the receptionist, and yet Crowley appeared so much more cynical than his years. He didn’t look old, by any means. No sign of the crow’s feet that had been permanent features on Aziraphale’s face since some time around his thirty-sixth birthday. No, Crowley’s face was chiseled, his body taut even laid out on a bed like that, like a cobra ready to strike at any moment.

He reminded Aziraphale an awful lot of Eric.

‘Can you tell me what happened last night and this morning?’ he asked, before the thought had a chance to take hold and derail him.

‘Sure. I got some missed calls from Eric during the night, but I didn’t see them until the morning. Tried to call him back but he didn’t answer, so I called the hotel instead.’

‘Wait a moment.’

He’d let Ryan Jones talk, but with someone like Anthony Crowley, Aziraphale knew it was best not to give them any opportunity to gloss over details.

‘How did you know he was here? Where were you at the time?’

‘We’ve got location sharing on between our phones. And I was at an AirBnB in Camden.’

Good Lord, this was like pulling teeth. Crowley was not going to volunteer any information. No wonder Device had been so exasperated.

‘Why were you at an AirBnB in Camden if you live in Kilburn?’

‘Just fancied a mini-break, that’s all.’

‘Mr Crowley—’

‘Mr Policeman—’

‘That’s DI Fell to you.’

Crowley grinned, as if he’d won an argument.

‘Fine. I was in Camden because that’s where I was getting fucked up the arse by an American tourist who just so happened to be staying at an AirBnB there.’

He studied Aziraphale for a reaction of shock or outrage. Well, he would not give him the satisfaction.

‘We’ll need the exact address and, if you can provide it, the name of your American… friend.’

‘To confirm the alibi, right?’

This time, Aziraphale did not assent.

‘How do you know Mr Blaine?’

‘We’re mates.’

‘Did you know where he was last night?’

Aziraphale felt his heart race as soon as he asked the question. Tried his best not to let it show. As it happened, he was rather good at repressing his inner thoughts.

‘Yeah,’ Crowley said, and Aziraphale’s hand tightened on the duvet cover. ‘We were on the pull together, in Soho. He got lucky first. Went off with some guy.’

Soho. Aziraphale had just left his favourite sushi place, where he’d been by himself as always. Eric had stumbled into his path, asking for a light. The way he’d looked at him, sweat-soaked from dancing, with the cocky air of a beautiful man who knew he was beautiful.

Any moment now, Aziraphale would stop breathing and the game would be up.

#good omens #good omens fanfic #good omens au #good omens human au #my writing

[anonymeqaupdates]

Will Azul get punished in the end of chapter 3? I know Jamil was mentioned he will get his comeuppance but with how unhinged Azul is especially with the poison plot, I feel like he needs to be punish.

It is one of my concerns back in the game where the overblot boys got off scott free with minimum punishment. Riddle would have let go if Ace didn't call him out (thankfully the official novel gave out additional bits about Riddle and his consequences), Leona still gets to play and still loose either way, and nothing on Azul much. Jamil is like the only who got punish and that isn't enough by having it keeping it secret and just having social reputation being damage. Vil's actions isn't made public and felt him loosing is kinda punishment for attempted murder. (He mentioned how their performance is sloppy from battling Vil, which would have gain more votes if it weren't for that). Idia getting scolded by his parents doesn't seem enough for Idia and having the school fixed from the Styx isn't really Idia's fault, Ortho sorta Scott free since he let it happened. It makes me wonder how this affect on Malleus after his overblot.

Well, from the game perspective inflicting a long time punishment is not very interesting. Mostly because most punishment that could befall them wouldn’t really involve us the player so it’d probably feel more like padding than anything else.

As far as my writing is concerned it didn’t make sense to punish Riddle more since while he crossed several lines he didn’t break any school rules until his mental breakdown and OB. Crowley can be an ass but he’s not one to punish students for almost dying. There’s still some consequences for his standing that I touched a little on in the Book 1 epilogue and that will pop back up in book 3. I didn’t mention Heartslabyul too much in book 2 because I didn’t want to divert the focus too much.

Punishing Leona more than what the game did would have been a huge dick move since he didn’t do it this time. However, I think I punished Ruggie more than enough for his BS.

The mortifying ordeal of being known is kind of Jamil’s worst nightmare so to no one surprise I’m going down that road. Jamil’s bs that the impending doom crew didn’t know of before will be found out in book 3. The comeuppance however is going to be more of a book 4 deal.

Azul will have to face consequences for his actions. However I’ll hold judgement for until you guys read what’s he’s planning. I want to repeat that he’s not planning on messing the underwater breathing potion.

I haven’t planned anything special for book 5 and 6 as far as Vil and Idia is concerned. I will, but I’m going to need some time and see how you guys react to the insanity of book 3 and 4. The issue being that the characters are going in blind and that there’s more events to factor in and that the Timelapse between book 4 and 5 is muddy at best. In fact the duration of book 5 is unclear to me. I can tell you that Harveston will take place before book 5, and that ghost marriage will definitely take place during it and Fairy gala will be right after it. But after that… beats me. I may end up making Vil be more sympathetic and his struggles harder to see for the VDC clan.

Anyway I think Idia and Vil will have to deal with redemption more than punishment. Keep in mind, the Scoobi gang is going to be fully formed by the end of book 4 so that’s a whole other mess to deal with. Issue with grief will pop up before book 7.

Speaking of, Book 7 is not ever done in the JP server but I already have a whole lot of drama for it! I can’t really say anything yet because I’m waiting to see how it concludes. It shouldn’t be long now though.

#fixing it before it broke #twst fanfic #thanks anon! #ask

[dothwrites]

spn15 spec, destiel, post 15.18, mcd?? sort of???

---

And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend.--Antoine de-Saint Exupery, The Little Prince

---

Castiel opens his eyes in nothingness. 

It’s not dark, though the air which presses around him is thick onyx. There is neither gravity nor weightlessness here. Castiel exists but he does so in a void so barren that he doubts his own mind. He opens his mouth to call out, but no sound escapes. 

Castiel exists in ignorance for one, glorious moment. Then the weight of memory crushes into him. His chest buckles underneath the pressure. He tries to scream, but the vast emptiness swallows the sound. 

---

“Cas, we can fight this!” 

Dean, his Righteous Man, Dean, the shining beacon, his friend...The first real friend he’d ever made. Dean is ready to fight. Dean would fight God, has indeed fought God. But he can’t fight this. 

The door shudders in its frame. Blow after blow rains down on the weakening wood. Already, the wood is splintering under the assault. The thin strip of light at the bottom of the door disappears underneath a sea of writhing black. The Empty is here. It wants what it was promised.  

“Dean,” he says. He intends to say much more--It’s too late, let me go, thank you--but his voice cracks on the single syllable of Dean’s name. 

He wants to stay. God help him, but he wants to stay. 

“No, dammit Cas! You don’t get to give up! We can fight this thing, we can keep running, we can...” Dean’s voice trails off into nothing as he looks wildly around the small room. 

Though he might protest, Castiel knows that Dean is a man bailing out a sinking ship. In his heart, Dean knows the battle is already lost. But he’s still defiant, still clinging to the faintest shred of hope.

Castiel loves him for that. 

“You fought for the whole world.” Castiel’s voice is weak and pale against the ear-shattering thunder of the Empty’s attempts to break into the room. 

“Cas, no--” 

“But you can’t fight for me.” 

The words shatter something vital in him. Castiel gasps as the agony shreds through him. He thought there would be more time. He thought that happiness was an ideal that no one could ever reach. He thought there would be time, he doesn’t want to go, he wants to stay--

“Cas, I can’t...Not again, I can’t lose you again, please don’t go--” 

Black seeps into the room, slender tendrils snaking across the room towards where they stand. Castiel feels every second ticking away. He’s lived for millennia, seen worlds and empires rise and fall, felt the passing of centuries like nothing more than a passing breeze. Millions of years, and now, when it means everything, he has no time. 

Castiel cups Dean’s cheek with one shaking hand. If this is it, then he doesn’t want to leave with any regrets. “Dean,” he croaks. That word has become his compass, his prayer, the star to which he hitched his wagon. 

“I’m so sorry. I don’t want to leave you. If I had a choice, i would stay. I would stay with you through every sunrise and sunset, through every moment, the mundane and extraordinary alike.” Castiel’s voice catches in his throat as the door finally shatters and darkness pours into the room. 

“You’ve taught me everything, Dean, and I...I’m so grateful that I got to know you. Without you...” 

Castiel can’t continue. He’s immeasurably grateful for all he’s experienced with Dean, but he’s always been greedy. He wants more. He wants to see Dean’s hair continue to silver until it’s soft and grey. He wants to go fishing with Dean and discover the peace inherent in the activity. He wants to watch Jack grow into his own and Sam start a family. He wants, with a fierceness that takes his breath away. 

Darkness curls around his ankle and winds its way up his calf. 

Dean shakes his head. Tears well in his eyes but refuse to spill over, though his lower lip shakes. “Please,” he asks, tilting his head into Castiel’s palm. “I can’t...how am I supposed to do this without you?” 

Castiel starts to respond, but his voice is cut off by the swift, hard press of Dean’s lips into his. His heart jolts and gutters in his chest before it picks up again, beating so hard he thinks it might escape through the confines of his ribs. 

“I love you.” 

The words tumble out of Castiel’s mouth, the same as they did years ago when he was rotting from in the inside out. The same frantic need consumes him now as it did then, when every beat of his heart dragged him closer to the edge of oblivion, when seconds were more precious than gold, when he was so close to losing everything--

Dean sobs. He clutches the lapels of Castiel’s coat and kisses him, teeth bruising behind his lips.

Castiel’s whole lower body is engulfed in darkness so complete that it feels as though it’s ceased to exist. His whimper is lost in Dean’s mouth. 

“No,” Dean gasps, pulling away. Castiel already knows the cause of Dean’s denial. He can feel it, creeping up his chest and shoulders, slithering down to his arms. He remembers how it was to be devoured, remembers the noxious black ooze of the Leviathan crawling through him, but this is worse, is so much worse, because now he knows what Dean’s lips taste like, now he knows everything he has to lose--

“Cas, I love you,” Dean tells him, though his words echo strangely. The Empty crawls up his throat. Castiel chokes on it, but he doesn’t dare to blink. He can’t lose a second of this, of Dean’s face, horrified and tear-stricken though it is. 

Seconds tick away like centuries, Dean’s face in front of him. Castiel can’t hear what he’s saying, but he can see the words shaped on his lips. 

I’ll find you, I promise, I’m coming for you, Cas, Cas, I love--

And then. 

Empty. 

---

With the image of Dean’s face in his mind, Castiel screams. 

There is no sound in the Empty, but he screams anyway. His agony and loss pour out of him, his grief and fear. Everything that he’s lost, Dean--

Castiel screams until his voice cracks and breaks, until his throat is shredded and raw, until he tastes blood in the back of his throat. 

Hollow, he slumps to the side, curling into himself. His one consolation was that he would at least be asleep for the rest of eternity. He wouldn’t have to live with the weight of everything he’d lost. Now, even that slender comfort has been ripped from him. For the rest of time, he’ll have to exist with the memory of Dean’s glassy eyes, with the sound of Dean’s choked voice echoing through his skull, with the phantom ache of Dean’s lips against his. Castiel shudders, sobs ripping out of his throat. 

“Jesus. So much for helping.” 

Castiel blinks. The sound of another voice is foreign in this void where nothing should exist. He rolls over, looking up at the sardonic face staring down at him. 

“Ruby,” he rasps, then remembers himself. 

That’s not Ruby. 

“Go away,” he mutters. He wraps his arms around his legs, pressing his forehead to his knees. There’s no point in having pride here, not when time is meaningless and every second is a torture. The Empty already knows his secrets, though why it chose Ruby’s form to torment him is a mystery. 

“Look feathers, you were the one who screwed the pooch on this whole ‘fixing eternity’ thing. So I think I’m going to stick around for a bit.” 

“There’s no point,” Castiel says miserably. “You got what you wanted. I’m here. I’m suffering. What more could you possibly want from me?”

“Were you dropped on your halo? I told you what I wanted the last time you were here. I want out, you moron. I told you to find a way out, and you wound up here, which is kind of the opposite of what I asked.” 

Castiel blinks slowly, lifting his forehead from his knees. “Ruby?” he asks. 

Ruby rolls her eyes and sighs for dramatic effect. “Yeah, dumbo. You know, I’ve only been trying to tell you that since the beginning.” 

“I can’t trust that.” Castiel remembers all too well the last time he was here, the jolt of pleasure at seeing Meg once more only to realize that the Empty was aping her appearance to hurt him. “The Empty, it takes on your visage, your memories--”

“Yeah, you’re just going to have to trust me on this.” Ruby’s eyes flash black. “You know, as much as you can.” 

“I’d pay attention to her, Clarence. If you don’t, then she’ll probably kick your ass.” 

Castiel knows that voice. He whirls around. Meg’s face greets him, a tiny smirk twisting her lips upward. “Meg,” he whispers, an odd combination of grief and happiness twisting in his chest. 

“The one and only,” she assures him. 

A small shred of doubt clings at the back of Castiel’s mind, but he has to trust in something right now. Even if it’s two dead demons. 

“Castiel. So lovely to see you again. Though I can’t say that I agree with the company you’re keeping these days.” 

Make that three dead demons. 

“Crowley,” Castiel breathes. 

The demon looks exactly the same as he did  the day he died. His suit is pristine, down to the pocket square. He looks at Meg and Ruby with disdain before he turns that expression on Castiel. “I suppose you’re doing your biannual visit to this dump? Feel like taking any passengers out with you when you make your escape this time?” 

“I’m not...I made a deal,” Castiel whispers. He made a deal to save his son and he’ll never regret that, not for a second, but then he thinks of Dean’s face. “I’m not leaving.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so negative, Cassie. You do have a way of wriggling out of the tightest of places.” 

Mingled guilt and joy sear through Castiel as he turns around. Balthazar’s familiar face looks at him. Balthazar raises an eyebrow. “No hug?” he asks. 

“I don’t understand,” Castiel breathes. Surrounded by ghosts from his past, he feels weak. “None of you should be awake. That’s the whole point of this place. All of us, asleep, forever.” 

“That’s the way it should be, but you have a habit of wrecking the natural order.” Castiel winces at Anna’s cool voice. Though there’s no real judgement in her voice, there’s also no real warmth. “It’s been changing here, ever since your last visit.” 

“I woke it up.” 

“And because you woke it up, we all started to awake as well.” Hannah’s calm voice joins their small group, though it’s growing steadily larger. “All of us, demons and angels, started awaking. At first, it was just for moments, but lately, it’s been distracted. More of us have been able to stay awake for longer. Eventually we started finding each other.” 

“That’s my boy,” Meg says, unmistakable fondness in her voice. “Shaking up the natural order, wrecking the whole of the afterlife.” 

Castiel’s eyes dart between all of them, former enemies, allies, and friends. “Is this all of you?” 

“Were you not listening? Did they not just tell you that we’ve all been waking up, at least a little bit?” 

Gabriel pops into existence next to Castiel. Despite himself, Castiel jerks back in surprise. 

“So, what’s it going to be, Cas? Are you going to just pop out of here like always?” Crowley brings Castiel’s brain back to the present. 

When he made his deal, he made it with full awareness that there was no coming back. He accepted that burden because he knew it was the only way he could save Jack. 

But that was before he felt Dean’s lips against his, before he heard the words fall from Dean’s mouth. I love you. 

When he made the deal, he had never heard those words directed at him. When he made the deal, he had nothing to fight for. 

Now he does.

He made a choice long ago. You don’t have to be ruled by Fate. You can choose freedom. 

Castiel looks at all of them, demons and angels alike, and makes a choice. 

“We’ve got work to do.” 

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fic #deancas #deancas fic #spn15 #spn spoilers #kinda? #dean winchester #castiel #s15 speculation #the empty #cas' deal #angst #open ending #dothwrites #throwing my hat into the speculation ring #because why not #but this is what i always wanted from the empty deal #@dabb just let me write for this show

[itsthestutterforme]

Sacrifices (Supernatural)

Summary: Y/N copes after Crowley sacrifices himself// mentions of death and depression

Characters: Crowley x reader, Dean x reader, Angry!Sam x reader

--

"What else is needed for the spell?" Crowley asks me. "Just one thing. The hardest thing. The sacrifice of a soul," you answer. We were in the endgame now. We needed to kill Lucifer before he could corrupt Jack anymore than he already did.

Dean, Sam, Cas and Mary worked to distract Lucifer while you and Crowley worked on the spell. Crowley stares at you a little longer than what you're used to.

Which leads you to think that something went wrong or something is about to go wrong. "What happened?" "Nothing happened," "Then why are you staring at me?" "Because I love you."

You stop doing the spell for a moment and lock eyes with him. "I love you too," he finds a sense of relief in your words. Love isnt something that was reciprocated to him before.

"What is this about, Crowley?" "Just make sure the spell is ready." You eye him skeptically and after a few seconds, you knew what he was going to do.

He stands up to walk away, you hold him back by the hand. You stand up and wrap your arms around him. He slowly wraps his arms around waist and you tighten your grip aroubd him.

"I'm proud of you." He squeezes you and kisses the top of your head before pulling away. You watch with wide eyes when Crowley walks up to Lucifier. "You know you can't beat me, Crowley." "I know," he says.

Crowley looks at you before stabbing himself with the demon blade. "No!" you yell. The light flashes in his face before he falls to the ground. His soul is sucked into the spell you were conducting the spell in.

Tears swell in your eyes and you whisper one last incantation and the rip between worlds was starting the shrink. Cas and Mary continued to fight Lucifer and you rush over to pick up Crowley.

You place his body across your shoulder blades and hold one of his legs and arms to keep him steady. Sam and Dean let me go through first. You walk a few feet before setting Crowley's body down and kneeling down next to him.

"You deserved better," you say to him before putting a hand on his chest. You lean your back against the porch of the shack and you look to the tree line in attempt to calm down.

More sobs escaped your mouth and you find yourself leaning your forehead against Crowley's. "I don't care what anybody says. You're a big softie. You were anyway,"

"No!" you look up to see Castiel being faced from behind and killed. Dean was the one who screamed. Castiel's body falls to the ground and the next thing I know, Mary is pushing Lucifier into the rip between worlds and it closed behind here.

It seems that everyone is going to grieve today. Sam looks to you but you transport away to United Kingdom to be buried.

**

Here you are in power surpressing cuffs, staring at a very angry Sam Winchester. Dean was in the very back, standing there quietly with his arms crossed. You haven't Sam this angry or Dean this quiet, it was starting to freak you out.

"What do you mean you can't bring you can't bring her back? I've seen witches revive themselves with different kinds of spells." he says. "Believe me, I tried." you say. Their silence encouraged you to continue.

"I had a best friend once. Someone that I knew for decades. We went to junior high together and we made arrangements to be roommates in college. But then one night, we were coming back from the gym and we were ambushed by a pack of muts. They had her by the throat, and I froze. I didn't utter a word, and they... tore her apart. I brought her corpse to some abandoned warehouse and tried to revive her for hours, and nothing."

"You think that would be the worst part but no. The worst part of all this was when I had to call her mother. I can still hear her screaming," you add as a few tears escape your eyes.

You quickly wipe them away and Sam says, "What you think you can let a few crocodile tears slip and you're off the hook?" "What the hell is wrong with you? I helped all of you out when you needed a witch and couldn't find Rowena anywhere,"

"You're a friend of Crowley's, we don't know you or your moral code." "Watch your mouth. He sacrificed himself for the spell. For you. The Crowley I knew never would have done that." you snap.

"Do you know what it feels like to lose all hope for saving someone because you're scared of breaking your own heart if you fail?" you add. "Yes," Dean finally says.

You and Sam look to him and he adds, "Sammy, I told you that it was best to let Mom go, and you go a kidnap an ally." "She's not an ally," "She helped us keep Lucifier away from Jack. Yes she is," Dean defends.

"You may have given up on Mom, but I won't. I refuse to do that." Sam says before rushing out of the room angrily. Dean walks towards you with the key to the handcuffs. "I understand why he's angry. I don't blame him for that." you say as he unlocks the cuffs and they clatter on the metal table.

Dean doesn't say anything and you stand up to walk out until your feet stops in their tracks. You turn around and grab a chair to sit down. "What are you doing?" "I know that look all too well. You're not doing so good with coping."

"I'm fine," "Look, I know what it's like to have no one. To be alone in a crowded room because you don't want to burden anyone with your emotions." "Bottling things in won't help," you add.

He stares at you but doesn't say a word. "Come on, I know a cheese steak joint that's open 24 hours," you add, holding out your hand. He looks at you hand for a moment before taking your hand into his. You say an incantation and transport yourself to Philadelphia, PA.

Dean's eyes widen as he tries to stabilize himself. "Why does that feel worse than when angels and demons do it?" "I dunno. Different creatures, different abilities." You say with a shrug before walking inside. Dean follows you in and you greet your buddy.

"Long time no see," "I was starting to miss your pretty face in here, pipsqueak," "Keep yappin' and I'll give toss you a knuckle sandwich, ya punk." You tease. "Missed you too, sweetheart." You and Dean sit and you feel his gaze on you when you take a once over of the menu.

"How you holding up?" Dean asks. "I'm holding, but isn't that a question I should be asking you?" You answer. "I'm holding too," "You don't have to open up if you don't want to. But I'm here to listen when you are." You tell him as he meets your gaze. "Hey, Reggy, can I get one of your famous cheesteaks with ex-" "Extra sauce. Of course, baby doll." "Thanks,"

"You seem to have a good relationship with him," Dean says. "Eh, found a loop hole in his cross roads demon deal. Felt indebted to me every since. I just love his cheesteaks. You should try one." You say. "You're different than other witches." "Really? How?" "You know how to appreciate people and make them feel cared for. Crowley, he.. he was better because of you." Dean says.

Your heart sinks when you hear Crowley's name. Reggy comes around with your philly cheesteak and fries. He sets it on the counter and you say thank you. "No problem baby doll," "How's the daughter doin'?" You ask. "Thinking of becoming a lawyer," "Lawyer? Wow," "Yeah, she wants to be where the action is,"

"I can understand that. I'll wish you luck. Tell her I asked for her alright?" "Sure, you want anything buddy?" Reggy asks Dean. "Uh just a coffee, black." Dean answers. "You got it,"

"There a pie joint just down the street if you want to go there instead." "No, I'm okay here. I just.. don't know where to start." Dean says. "Anywhere."

He clasps his hands together and says, "I'm tired, and I'm pissed. I'm pissed that it always has to be me and Sam that has the save the world when it goes to shit." "Why does it have to be you and Sam?"

"Because no one else will. It's always been like that. And there's always another problem after the next and the next and the next. There's no break. It's like we're stuck in a horror movie." Dean runs his hand through his hair and closes his eyes for a moment.

"Things between you and Sam seem pretty tense since.. nevermind. Sorry," you trail off. "Yeah, things are tense. He never got the chance to grow up with Mom. And when she finally came back, he thought he would have the chance, but... She died and he felt like that was stripped from him." "But that only makes more room for pain and grief. You would think I would be used to it by now bu-"

"The day you get used to death, is that day you stop being human. You can't be afraid to love because of the pain. Love and pain are two sides of the same coin." "Sometimes I should I couldn't feel a damn thing." He croaks, trying hard to keep it together.

You reach out and squeeze his hand comfortably. He slowly meets your gaze and you say, "Me neither,"

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural #crowley x reader

[katsidhe]

Ranking Every SPN Midseason Finale

15) 10.09 The Things We Left Behind. Claire’s reintroduction isn’t as bad as some of her later appearances, mostly because she’s still hostile towards Cas and the Winchesters, but it’s still not great. There’s Rowena and Crowley drama I don’t care about, and Dean kills a bunch of people, which is kinda fun, but would be more interesting if it had any consequences.

14) 14.09 The Spear. Michael’s monsters plan is pretty dumb. I’m still not clear on why Michael stopped possessing Dean at any point. Michael and Jack have a good conversation, and I suppose an assassination is the only viable plan for the Winchesters to go for, but most of this episode is just a series of “why” moments one after another.

13) 1.10 Asylum. This is a perfectly acceptable MOTW episode, and a ghost-addled Sam yelling at and punching Dean is fun, but it’s simply not up to snuff with the kind of plot or character development that the other midseason finales put on the table.

12) 13.09 The Bad Place. I really like Kaia and Jack here. The moment with the angels pounding on the ground to break the wards is genuinely pretty cool.  The stakes get upped with the reveal that Mary’s being tortured in Apocaland, and Dean reacts by threatening Kaia at gunpoint, nice. It’s not a bad episode, and it’s not incredible either.

11) 12.08 LOTUS. Is this episode silly? Oh yes. Am I thoroughly entertained when watching it? Resoundingly yes. Every dumb terrible campy detail--like Lucifer turning crosses upside down—combined with the sheer balls-to-the-wall wtf-ery of the President being possessed, and the interspersed moments of genuine drama—as when Sam banishes Lucifer—creates a combination that I can’t help but enjoy. I also like the likely somewhat unintentional implications as to how the political landscape of the SPN world was changed by the sheer volume of apocalyptic events it’s experienced. Seems fair to conclude that God is angry.

10) 8.09 Citizen Fang. Dean sends Sam after Amelia with a fake text, as their s8 conflict comes to a head. This is far from the shadiest thing Dean’s ever done, but it’s so fascinatingly, unapologetically a Relationship Red Flag that I really enjoy it. Plus, I find Sam’s conflict with Benny pretty interesting here.  

9) 6.11 Appointment in Samara. Dean’s deal with Death is a cool concept, and it’s set up well, but it falls a bit flat. Dean fails the test in a way that’s very predictable, and that has no consequences, because Death likes Sam enough to retrieve him anyway. The better part of this episode is Soulless’ desperate, last ditch attempt to save his life at the cost of Bobby’s—he screams and begs as his soul is returned, and I love the moral dilemma here.

8) 9.09 Holy Terror. Kevin!! His death was viscerally shocking and heartbreaking. This episode is consigned to mid B tier because of the angel drama I don’t care about, and because I am still torn on if I really like Kevin’s death thematically speaking. For one thing, I miss him to this day—I miss having a cynical, informed perspective on the Winchesters in the room. For another, it muddies the waters of Dean’s crime in having Gadreel possess Sam, in ways that are sometimes interesting but sometimes miss the point.

7) 15.08 Our Father, Who Aren’t in Heaven. *chanting* New Cage canon! New Cage canon! Jake Abel steals the show with his insane chemistry with himself, and makes the s15 conflict much more interesting just by existing. I love how goddamn uncomfortable Sam is this entire episode, I love Adam and Michael’s weird compelling dynamic, I love Dean’s awkwardness, and I love the four of them all together. I just want them to sit in a room and talk foreeeever.

6) 7.10 Death’s Door. I don’t even like Bobby that much, but even I have to admit that this is a great emotional episode. Sam and Dean deal with their grief, and it’s done well enough to make me grieve for Bobby too.

5) 2.09 Croatoan. Good episode is good. It’s a zombie episode with a real sense of fear and isolation—and then Sam gets infected. Dean’s violent refusal to kill Sam, the subsequent reveal that Sam is somehow immune, and then a demon revealing that this town died just for an experiment on Sam? Creepy and emotional and intriguing!

4) 4.10 Heaven and Hell. Demon and angel battle! Some very fun additions to what we know about the angels and their motivations: Anna’s commitment to fleeing and defying Heaven, coupled with what appears to be Ruby doing the same with Hell, is cool. I also love how Sam ends up successfully playing both sides off each other. Plus, it ends with Dean’s emotional reveal about his time in Hell.

3) 3.08 A Very Supernatural Christmas. Iconic. Three separate things to love: fantastic pre-series content, including amulet backstory and the reveal of little Sam finding out about monsters; a truly wonderful MOTW that involves Christmas tree stabbing and fingernail pulling; and the looming emotional juggernaut of  a final celebration before Dean’s deal comes due.  

2) 5.10 Abandon All Hope. Crowley’s delightful introduction as a smarmy survivalist, Ellen and Jo’s tearjerking deaths, Cas captive and mouthing off to both Lucifer and Meg, Dean’s unsuccessful shot, and of course Sam and Lucifer’s first meeting in person. Action packed and spooky and thrilling and simply beautifully executed.

1) 11.09 O Brother Where Art Thou? In Hell, is where, and I couldn’t be happier!! Lucifer’s reintroduction coupled with Sam’s distress and brittle scared determination is atmospheric and terrifying. Rowena’s betrayal and Amara’s pitch to Dean are compelling. Most importantly, though, I had to wait a MONTH for 11.10 with Sam’s CRYING FACE in my head: best worst cliffhanger of the series by miles and miles. Bury me in this episode.

#1.10 #2.09 #3.08 #4.10 #5.10 #6.11 #7.10 #8.09 #9.09 #10.09 #11.09 #12.08 #13.09 #14.09 #15.08 #ranking

[pendragyn]

Darkness and Light

This is an excerpt of my WIP Ineffable Bastards (the entirety of chapter 3 lol) that I felt really fits with the 'Dark' and 'Light' themes of this year's Good Omens Celebration.

(sorry for the formatting errors, tumblr being tumblr. adding a readmore since it's 4k words, also the real angst is below the cut. Hopefully it works! if not you can read it all at AO3)

Chapter 3: Tuesday ∞ Unbinding

A brief stab of pain jolted Crowley awake, and they froze for a moment to get their bearings. The shop was wreathed in deep shadows, lit only by the lamp by Aziraphale’s desk, and the only sounds were of Aziraphale working on the manuscript and a clock ticking faintly in the dimness. The back of their neck tingled with uneasiness.

Ignoring the sensation, Crowley eased upright and bit back a curse, too distracted by the ache in their back to notice the pale tartan blanket they’d been tucked under. Ugh, is this couch made of rocks? They prodded at the cushion, but it was as lofty as the day they had miracled it into being some thirty years earlier. At least, they assumed it was still only thirty year ago. Just how long did I sleep for?

As they could both go days without shifting a muscle, only knowing it was night wasn’t a particularly useful metric. Crowley had slept for the better part of a century after all, though that had been on purpose, while this... They checked their watch, but couldn’t seem to focus on the face so checked their phone’s time instead, and still had to squint and rub at their eyes before the time and date finally swam into focus. Midnight. Just hours, not days.

They stood and stretched to try to relieve the ache in their back, but if anything that only made it feel worse. While demons might not be able to instantly heal themselves the way angels could, they did heal at a far faster rate than humans did, and weren’t exactly prone to chronic back pain, or any pain at all, if injury wasn’t involved. It was becoming obvious that something was very wrong, but Crowley still hesitated to bring it up.

Haven’t I dragged them through enough? They turned to watch Aziraphale, highlighted in the darkness by the glow from the lamp. They were wearing their favourite old cardigan instead of their coat, which was as informally dressed as Crowley ever saw them in recent memory, and looked like nothing more than the contented bookshop keeper they played at being. They looked serene, happy even, and utterly enthralled by their project.

Just tell them about the spells and go,Crowley decided. “Aziraphale?”

“Hmm?”

“How long ‘til you’re done?”

“Just… there, finished. Perhaps we could go get dinner at the café while things dry?” Aziraphale suggested hopefully, looking up from the manuscript and blinking a few times when they saw how dark it was. “Oh, I was at that a while, wasn’t I? Dreadfully sorry.”

Crowley shook their head at the apology. “It’s after midnight.”

“Oh, they’re long closed then. Well. Perhaps another time.” There was something in Crowley’s expression that made a lump of dread form in the bottom of Aziraphale’s stomach. They dragged their eyes away to focus on putting things away, not wanting to waste any of the precious materials through carelessness, while a million things clamoured in their mind to be said. It felt like everything was going wrong again and they hurried to fill the silence. “I do hope I did right in not waking you earlier? You seemed quite exhausted and…” I didn’t want you to go. Aziraphale swallowed the words down and gave Crowley a smile. “I do have to concede that you were right about today, well yesterday now, I suppose. It did turn out to be a rather good day after all.”

Crowley blinked, taken a little off guard by the admission, and tried to figure out how to broach the subject of the alarms. “Oh, er, yeah? I mean, yeah, it was good. But I, er-”

Aziraphale ploughed on, almost afraid to know what Crowley was going to say. “Having my hands occupied helps ground me, I’ve found, helps me sort through things that otherwise seem too big a mess. Not that we’re out of this mess, I know, but taking the time to let things settle really helps me put things into perspective. I just need a little breathing room sometimes and-”

“And alarms.”

Aziraphale looked up in confusion. “Alarms?”

“I mean, I, uh, I set up some alarms around the shop while you were working, to warn you, us, of intruders. Passive alarms,” Crowley hastened to assure the angel when they frowned, “nothing dangerous. Just… You know, in case.”

Aziraphale was momentarily at a loss for words. They felt it would be inexcusably rude to ask what had motivated Crowley to do such a thing, though that was the second thought that came to mind. First was just how nice kind an act it was. “I… that is, well, that, that was very kind of you. I hadn’t even considered, but I suppose it is best to be prepared for retaliation of some sort. But you… you’ll have to at least let me treat you to dinner to repay-”

“No.” Aziraphale’s face fell at the blunt denial but Crowley explained, “I mean it’s too late. Now. Tonight. But…” Crowley hesitated. Although things hadn’t gone the way they hadn’t even let themself admit to hoping for, they knew Aziraphale would want to help them if they needed it. Another sharp stab of pain decided them. Whatever they were dealing with, they had to deal with it soon, and the shop was not secure enough in it’s current state. “How would you feel about going to the flat? I’ve got plenty to tide us over and, I, uh, I’ve got something I need your opinion on.”

“Certainly.” Aziraphale quickly stood up and grabbed their coat, but made a token protest, wanting to give Crowley an out of their clearly impulsive offer. “But I wouldn’t want to impose-”

“’Snever an imposition, Aziraphale, to share a meal with you,” Crowley murmured, moving towards the door when Aziraphale looked up in surprise at their serious tone. “’Sides, you’ve been slouched at that desk too long.”

Aziraphale trailed along behind them and tried to puzzle out what was really going on. “As long as you’re quite sure, Crowley.”

“Always.” Crowley could see Aziraphale’s confusion but ignored it, slipping into the driver’s seat and clasping very tightly to the wheel while the angel got in the passenger’s side. The ache was getting worse and a headache was beginning to pound behind their eyes. Unsure what else to do, Crowley sped off towards the safety of the flat.

Aziraphale watched Crowley with a small frown of concern, but could tell from their expression that they weren’t in the mood to answer questions. As it was, the strange foreboding itchy ache in their back was distraction enough, and when a surreptitious healing failed to alleviate the sensation, a worrying thought popped up. If this isn’t a physical injury, then it must be metaphysical in nature. Could this be from what we did? From what happened? Did I… could I have absorbed some of Crowley’s… demon-ness while borrowing their corporeal form? Or been poisoned by some remnant of the hellfire? Or from just being in Hell at all? But that means-

Aziraphale risked a glance at Crowley. The demon pressed back against the cushion and shifted uncomfortably in their seat, like there was an itch along their spine that couldn’t be reached. -Heaven or the holy water or my angel-ness contaminated,poisoned, Crowley in the same way. Oh, oh no. I didn’t even think to do more than a cursory cleansing before we switched back! What to do, what to do? They whirled through a dozen ideas but just as quickly discarded them all as unless, a knot of grief forming over their heart.

There must be something! But nothing came to mind. They wiped at their stinging eyes, refusing to let the tears fall and returned to twisting the golden ring on their pinky, before they were struck by an idea. Maybe I can fix this.

“Hey.”

Aziraphale jumped when Crowley spoke, quickly shoving their balled up fists into their coat pockets, and tried to smile reassuringly when Crowley frowned. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Just wondering where you were. We’ve been parked for like five minutes.” Crowley tried to tease, to keep up appearances should anyone be observing, but the aching itch was making it almost impossible to think. Another stab of pain had Crowley pressing a hand to their throbbing tattoo with a hiss. When they pulled their hand away, there was a smear of blood on their fingers. Shit. Outta time.

Aziraphale’s heart dropped at the sight and they instantly reached out, but Crowley shook their head and shoved out of the car before they could attempt a healing. Aziraphale hurried after them, up to the flat, jumping a little when Crowley slammed the door shut behind them and set all the locks with a snap. “Crowley-”

Another jolt of pain sent Crowley reeling back against the door but they shook their head again when Aziraphale reached out to heal them, their bleak expression showing they also knew it wouldn’t be enough. They were out of options and the little voice said, Last chance to fix it. Now or never. Crowley pulled off their glasses and spoke the words they never thought they’d say again, to the only being they’d ever trusted enough to say them to. “I desire a boon, Aziraphale.” The Celestial words crackled with power in spite of the pain in Crowley’s voice.

Aziraphale couldn’t help the shocked gasp that escaped but didn’t hesitate to reply in kind. “Ask and be heard, Crowley, I attend you.”

There was so much that needed to be said, that Crowley desperately wanted to say but the ceremony didn’t allow for deviation and the pain was worsening. They stared into their best friend’s wide golden-green eyes and hoped they would understand. “I seek to mend all rifts and reforge our bond.”

After everything, they still… Aziraphale nodded, eyes stinging with tears, and it took a second to swallow down everything they couldn’t say to be able to say the proper response, “Such forged has lain quiescent but was never sundered. By our efforts combined shall these rifts be mended.”

It was never unspoken. They never broke it, even after... Crowley’s eyes burned with tears they’d been cursed to never let fall and they offered their hand in agreement. “Shoulder to shoulder?”

Mind brimming with words there was clearly no time left for, Aziraphale clasped Crowley’s hand and spoke the final phrase. “My wings to yours.”

Occult power swept through them, renewing the bond and knocking the breath from both of them. Unable to wait a second longer, Crowley bolted through the flat, stumbling into the spacious marble bathroom mortared with every type of magic against scrying and magical attacks and filled to the brim with all manner of tropical plants. Their own little replica of the Garden.

With a ragged gasp Crowley activated the spells and let their wings flash into being. The ink-dark feathers repelled the warm light shining down from the false sky-lights, and they flapped, once, twice, but neither the spells nor the movement did anything to ease the sensation that was going from searing itch to freezing ache. Desperate, feeling as though they were suffocating inside an icebox, they flung off their clothes and slapped on the water, wings spread wide as droplets began to pour from the ceiling.

Aziraphale paused only long enough to set a very unpleasant surprise by the door for anyone who tried to break in before following the sound of running water through the sparse bedroom to the gleaming bathroom. “Crowley?” They were horrified to find Crowley shivering under the downpour, hair and feathers drenched, blood seeping from the mark on their temple. They dashed to catch Crowley before they could collapse to the floor, unfurling their own wings to shelter them from the downpour. “Hold on! Talk to me!” Knowing it was futile Aziraphale tried another healing anyway, swearing when all that changed was the rapidly worsening ache in their own back and wings.

The sound Crowley made was both bitter laugh and heartbroken sob. “Sorry, angel. Guesss they found a way after all. Sssshould’ve known… they wouldn’t… let us get away.”

Aziraphale cradled Crowley close, shaking their head in denial, mind full of recriminations. Do something you stupid angel! Anything! But they couldn’t think past the pain of their heart breaking. “Crowley, please-”

“Never meant… t’hurt… you.” The burning frost was pervasive and growing, seeking the soul embedded within the living vessel that trembled from the freezing cold searing pain. It seeped through muscles and around bones, piercing eyes and lungs and heart, which failed under the onslaught.

“NO!” Aziraphale’s wail turned into a roar of rage and anguish when Crowley’s lovely eyes went dull and sightless. For the first time in six thousand years, Aziraphale didn’t hold back, didn’t toe the line, didn’t do what was expected of them, and power the colour of a bronze sword sharpened with noonlight coruscated around them and their rapidly greying wings. “You can’t take Crowley from me again! I won’t allow it!” Those quick clever hands darted towards the now obvious source of Crowley’s torment, into inky feathers gone heavy and grey with icy embers of sanctified hellfire. “Fuck. You. All.”

If either side had seen Aziraphale at that moment, they might have understood why they were the Guardian of the Eastern Gate.

Crowley was wreathed in pain and loneliness and despair, on the verge of losing themself to the agonizing emptiness, when a brilliant ray of golden-bronze light slashed through the void from a glimmering horizon that hadn’t existed until that moment. They wasted no time hurling themself towards the familiar shining beacon until it overwhelmed their senses with light, and eventually the light resolved itself into the fixture in the ceiling of their bathroom. They soon became aware of the feeling of Aziraphale’s hands raking urgently through their feathers and swamped with the terrible understanding that it was already too late, slurred, “Azsheraph, no...”

But Aziraphale was implacable and continued to extinguish the freezing embers clinging to Crowley’s feathers. “I must.” They ignored the pain of handling the sanctified hellfire and the building cold fire of Heaven’s unholy judgment, only giving in when they sensed the last of the embers vanish in a pathetic puff of smoke.

Crowley marshalled enough energy to move just in time to break Aziraphale’s fall. “Wha-, Aziraphale, did they-” The angel nodded, eyes pressed shut as a shudder passed through their failing body. “No no nononono.” Thoughts still muddled Crowley had sense enough to do one thing.

snap

Water, stopped, midair, crystalline and gleaming in the odd light of out-time.

Aziraphale reached up to press a shaking hand to Crowley’s right cheek, the tips of their fingers resting over the still bleeding hellish brand on Crowley’s temple. Too much left to say, to do, to make up for. Time enough for just one last thing...They stared into Crowley’s lovely eyes, irises blown wide with shock, and as their last desperate heartbeat passed, breathed out, “I’m sorry.”

Aziraphale was gone before Crowley could respond, having used the last of their power to remove the binding mark on Crowley’s temple, and Crowley’s face crumpled and contorted with fury and despair, eyes burning like a star gone nova. “You can’t leave me, you bassstard, not now, not after all thisss!” They called up power from the core of their being, power they didn’t even know they had, and dragged lightning-edged talons through Aziraphale’s ice-rimed feathers, shredding the unholy acidic coating while leaving the feathers untouched. “I won’t let you go! Not like this! Aziraphale! Don’t go! Stay, bless you, stay!” The words devolved into snarled half-spoken curses and pleas as their assault against the Heavenly whatever-the-hell-it-was escalated into a frenzy.

“Ha!” Crowley yelled with sense of triumph when the last of the shreds fell away and dissolved with a ‘pft’, but triumph vanished when Aziraphale’s eyes remained closed, and the fragile corporeal heart remained still, persisting only because of the timelessness of the moment. No no no no no, spiralled in Crowley’s mind as they kissed those blued lips, pushing breath and life back into the dying vessel, reaching with the entirety of their being into the accursed void that Aziraphale had just pulled them from, ready to follow them back into oblivion if need be. Aziraphale!

The crushing emptiness of the void that held Aziraphale was suddenly filled by welcoming darkness, lifting the hopeless despair that they were lost within. Crowley! A shimmering auroral veil unfurled and a hundred million distant lights glimmered into view, warm and gloriously alive, and they flew towards where they sensed Crowley until the darkness resolved into just the familiar dimness held beneath closed eyelids.

Time slammed back into place, no longer held at bay by Crowley’s exhausted power, and the former demon cursed and sputtered as the suddenly far-too-hot-for-comfort water poured over them. It took a bit of flailing around to turn off the taps and afterward Crowley sat slouched against the wall, wings half unfurled and quivering as they tried to catch their breath.

Aziraphale laid utterly still as they regained their senses, drained beyond anything they could ever recall. They finally found the energy to suck in a slow shuddering breath and croak, “Crowley?” A shuddering sob of relief escaped when Crowley took their hand.

“I’m here, Aziraphale.” The reformed angel’s eyes opened, revealing they had shifted to blue-green, and Crowley realized that drowning in them wasn’t half bad really, all things considered. The itch and that building sense of doom were finally gone. ”I’m still here.”

Aziraphale blinked to clear their vision, and took in the sight of poor bedraggled Crowley wilting listlessly against the tile wall. They looked about as bad as Aziraphale felt, but they were there, wonderfully, blessedly alive. “Glad to hear it. You had me quite worried my dear.”

Crowley couldn’t help but snort out a laugh and helped Aziraphale sit up when they struggled against clothes and wings saturated with water and the glutinous but inert ashy grey residue. “Yeah, same. I’ll be very cross with you if you ever do that again, angel.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale gave them an exhausted but triumphant smile. “But you started it.”

“Me?! I-! Wot-! You-!”

The fondly exasperated sputtering of a Celestial Serpent at a loss for words warmed Aziraphale’s heart as nothing else could, and laughter, joyous in a way the former angel realized they hadn’t felt in a very long time, bubbled up, silencing the former demon’s protests. “What would I ever do without you?”

“Don’t you even think about trying to find out!” Crowley scolded, voice breaking, and caught Aziraphale in a nearly-crushing hug. Aziraphale tiredly hugged them back and Crowley rested their forehead against Aziraphale’s for a moment before pulling away to glare. “You barmy bastard, what were you thinking!?”

“Couldn’t let you go, my dear. Very selfish of me, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale murmured, stunned to see tears running down Crowley’s face. “Had to try.”

“You feather-brained do-gooder, you died! You died and I couldn’t save you!” Crowley crushed them in another hug, only easing up when Aziraphale squeaked. “Sorry, sorry-”

“But you did save me,” Aziraphale whispered, needing to tell Crowley what had happened, feeling the memory already beginning to fade. “It was so painful and dark and cold. It was beyond darkness, beyond… I was so afraid, so alone.”

Crowley held them tight, heart breaking. My fault. “Aziraphale...”

Tears welled, offset by a fond smile. “But a million stars exploded into being and I was in the Garden, and I sensed you and I wasn’t afraid any more.” Aziraphale stroked a finger over Crowley’s nearest wing-edge, considering as bits of sodden ash flaked away and disintegrated into nothingness. “I heard you call my name.” Another gentle touch, more ash dropping away from inky feathers that seemed to have gained an odd sheen. “My wings to yours. Always.”

Crowley frowned, pulling away from Aziraphale’s touch, unable to deal with the feelings those words and gentle caresses were stirring up. “C’mon, let’s get you warmed up.” Crowley banished their wings back into the astral plane with a spatter of displaced ash and water and the slight frown on Aziraphale’s face melted into a surprised gasp when Crowley lifted them up.

“I can walk.” Aziraphale held on tightly to Crowley’s shoulders and banished their own wings, though it took far more effort than usual. “...Probably.”

“You’re exhausted. And you just died to save me. Let me do this for you,” said Crowley gruffly, only moving towards the bedroom when Aziraphale nodded.

Crowley gently set Aziraphale down by the bed. “Let me tend your feathers, eh?” they urged, shrugging into a certain plush robe under Aziraphale’s heavy-lidded stare before carefully helping them from their ruined clothes. “Made rather a mess of them, I’m afraid.”

Aziraphale didn’t have much will to resist temptation. What had happened on Sunday felt like a dream, a lifetime ago, and it had been so very long since Crowley had helped care for their wings... It had only ever been Crowley. They nodded as Crowley helped them into the nightshirt they’d used just a few nights earlier, and bundled them under the covers and clicked on the electric blanket. “T’would be lovely, thank you.”

Crowley clicked off the lights, grabbed a towel and once they had unfurled their wings, started gently grooming the grimy feathers, smirking as Aziraphale went boneless with a heavy sigh. “Relax any more and you might just fall asleep for once,” Crowley teased, but there was an ache over their heart. It had been a very long time since they had allowed themself to tend Aziraphale, and after the all too brief interlude before they’d gone to play with fire, Crowley had feared they’d never have the chance to do it again.

“Mmm,” Aziraphale hummed in agreement, too tired to even bother with full sentences any more. Apparently dying took a lot out of a being, once the adrenaline wore off. “Feels lovely. Hadn’t had them out... since forty-one.”

Since the church, since they’d gotten utterly drunk on cursed cider and each other in the shop’s back room and — Crowley’s gentle grooming faltered for a moment, but Aziraphale didn’t notice. “Why not? Thought it was a big deal upstairs, grooming each other?”

“Dangerous.” Aziraphale rubbed a knuckle against Crowley’s leg, wanting to soothe away the bitterness in their voice, thinking about the communal grooming gatherings that were the most boring but also ridiculously fraught office parties in creation. Out of self preservation Aziraphale had created a ‘show up, make nice, make excuse, vanish’ routine that had kept them from ever having to reveal their wings. Being dismissed as inconsequential occasionally had its uses. “You know. Awful. Nosy buggers. Better with you, even without...”

“Aziraphale.” There was a world of meaning in that one word, and they lapsed into silence in the dimness. Crowley gently tended Aziraphale’s wings from top to bottom, confounded by the strange residue that sublimated from cold sandy grit to smoke in their hands. The wings felt normal, well, as normal as the corporeal manifestation of a Celestial being’s power could feel, but every once in a while the oblique light from the doorway would strike them just right to make them seem gold instead of white, with a faint sheen of what might be iridescence. But it was dark and Crowley didn’t want to look too closely, nor think about any more surprises.

By the time Aziraphale’s feathers were back in order Crowley felt as though they were buzzing with energy yet at the same time exhausted. “All done,” they murmured, and Aziraphale furled their wings away into the ether and curled sleepily onto their side towards Crowley with a few mumbled words of gratitude.

Crowley sat in the dark for a long while, doing their best to not think as they listened to Aziraphale’s quiet even breathing that spoke of true sleep. Eventually they slipped from the bed and dressed and retreated to the office. With a snap they miracled up a couch and turned on the TV, letting themself be lulled into a thoughtful stupor that eventually slipped into sleep.

Start at the beginning> Chapter 1 | Chapter 4 < Next Chapter

#good omens celebration #goc2021 #good omens #good omens fanfic #aziraphale/crowley #BAMF Crowley #BAMF Aziraphale #angst #angst but it turns out okay I swear #they kinda die #but they also bring each other back #trust me ;} #long post #readmore #Ineffable Bastards

[wanna-b-poet31]

A 4-Part Meta on Good Omens Part 2: Crowley’s Abuse and Trauma

This is 100% going to be a longer series on Goom Omens because I have ALLLL the thoughts on this, #Sorrynotsorry to my followers who didn’t sign up for my blog to turn into a 24/7 Good Omens one.

In Part 1 I wrote about how Aziraphale is constantly being emotionally, physically, and verbally abused by Heaven and the TLDR conclusion is that Crowley’s love for Aziraphale helps heal him from the abuses of Heaven.

Crowley, just like Aziraphale, is also dealing with the consequences of Heaven’s abuse, but it’s being compounded with the abuse, neglect, and trauma he suffers at the hands of Hell and >spoiler< presumed death of Aziraphale.  Neither have straight forward reactions to their abuse but ARE on the road to recovery.

In the beginning, there was a garden, a wily snake, an angel on apple tree duty, and a “parental” God. But, before then, before the beginning, there is a fall, a “purge” of angels who ask too many questions and cause too much trouble for Heaven to control through their intimidation and dogmatism. And here, we have the first abuse -- the fall.

Crowley is inquisitive by nature. Before Noah’s flood, we see him investigate the situation and interrogate Aziraphale with a barrage of questions. He knows right from wrong and craves answers for moral questions -- he needs to know what’s going on to protect others.  Although we don’t know what specific question caused his fall, we do know that asking questions threatens the authoritative nature of Heaven. No one is allowed to question the “great plan”, as evident by the hostile nature the angels respond to Crowley’s and Aziraphale’s attempts to save the Earth. Stringent, cold, and distant behavior punishes independent thought and, since Crowley needs answers, needs to know how to help, he’s a liability to their hierarchy.  

We also know that by the time we meet him, he’s already banished from grace and discarded like yesterday’s trash. He’s already fallen before tempting Eve into knowing the difference between right and wrong. He’s already fallen and already disowned by the almighty and her all her creations. He’s functionally alone, no unconditional love, no support, no reason for WHY what he’s done is bad or not. He’s neglected and isolated. 

We’re told several times that Crowley doesn’t really consider himself really fallen, or rather, that he’s sauntered vaguely downward. But, the truth of the matter is that he IS fallen, and we’re told explicitly it’s because he was asking questions, that “[asking questions] was all it took [to fall] before”.  And, we can see that 6000 years later, it’s still wreaking immeasurable damage to his emotional and mental health. 

Just look at his face when he’s begging to an unbending God who cast him out. He’s not spiteful (although given his treatment, he’s well within his rights to be) but desperate. He’s questioning why everything has to end, why he has to drop his home, his car, his best friend. He’s not mourning his fall (in this gif) but he’s not quite over the implications of being unloved. 

When Aziraphale says he hopes Crowley is forgiven, Azi still has faith that the angels are “good” and that forgiving Crowley would allow them to still be together, fighting for the greater good. Crowley’s immediate response though is that that’s his whole deal as a demon. He says he’s “unforgivable”.  The lack of self-esteem is symptomatic of the abandonment he’s experienced. It’s not just that he doesn’t want Heaven’s forgiveness (quite honestly he doesn’t need their forgiveness because it’s not his fault he’s been abandoned, it’s theirs), it that he doesn’t feel like he’s worthy of anyone’s forgiveness. This consequently adds to the importance of Aziraphale’s later forgiveness. It’s not that Aziraphale has been wronged, it’s cementing the idea that Crowley has worth in his eyes. That, with no strings attached, Crowley is loved and cared for, even if Aziraphale’s unwilling to run away with him.  

This is further cemented in how he responds to Aziraphale’s “nice” compliment. Unlike the genuine anger he shows the other demons, he ‘s careful with Aziraphale. Now, is it a “nice” thing to do? No. But, he’s not trying to be. Despite this, he’s careful not to hit Azi’s head against the wall, and as the gif below shows, Aziraphale’s got enough time to put a hand back behind him and brace himself against the wall. There are no defensive movements, no attempts to push back or talk his way out of the assault.  Although Azi does do that when the Angel’s confront him about working with Crowley, he knows that in this instance, Crowley is reacting to a traumatic trigger.  Crowley knows that being nice didn’t save him from falling or trauma after the fact. He’s yet to fully cope with his trauma. 

Shoutout to @greenbergsays for their excellent deep dive into this scene and being the first I can find pointing out Aziraphale’s lack of reaction.  

Hell is no better. After being cast out, there is no such thing as unity or support. Despite Crowley being great at his job, getting awards left and right, there is no trust. Hastur explicitly says as much because Crowley acts differently, and once again he’s punished for deviating from the limited acceptable behavior. Beyond the issue of trust, there is no respect and (in the series at least) Crowley’s actual work is not recognized (no, he can’t get a wahoo though he deserves one)

His “side” who he’s meant to be loyal to, meant to help win “the great war” ultimately does not care about him either. He is as disposable to them as he is/was to Heaven. 

Which is why he cares so damn much about Aziraphale. THIS is why he works so damn hard to be Aziraphale’s side. Crowley NEEDS a side that cares about him, and he knows that throughout the last 6 millennia, Aziraphale is the only one to see the world like he does; who is as strange and rebellious as he is; who has fallen in love with humanity like he has. Aziraphale loves hard, but also honestly. Unlike Heaven, Hell, or God, there are no strings attached to the love they share. Crowley isn’t secretly trying to manipulate Aziraphale into “falling”, Crowley knows just how important Azi’s identity as an angel is to him and Crowley goes out of his way to affirm and reaffirm Aziraphale’s identity.  

   The relationship he’s developed with Aziraphale makes walking in on his burning home the worse traumatization post-fall. Look at the pain and anger on his face when he realizes his best friend to be dead.  Crowley KNOWS running into that building that the only way for his Angel’s bookstore to be on fire is if Aziraphale is dead or dying.  Without Aziraphale, Crowley is alone. Unquestionably, undeniably, permanently alone.  Just like when he was in Heaven. Just like after the fall. Just like in heaven. 

You can call it what you like, romantic, platonic, best friend, lover, or queer, but the grief at this moment consumes him. His loss triggers the neglect and isolation given to him by God during his original trauma. Once he’s realized, fully realized, that he’s alone without anyone left on his side, he has nothing left to fight for. Look at the grief on his face, he’s mourning, and resigned to the end of the world, because there’s no world without his support system, without his family. He has no one left to help him cope.

 Although, one of the ways Crowley DOES try to come is through his alcoholism. Although both Aziraphale and Crowly drink often, Crowley is more prone to excess and is more frequently getting drunk as a way to deal with tragedy. Although alcoholism has a heavy genetic component, his first response is to any stress is to drink. And, there are several studies linking alcoholism to trauma.  

Also, Crowley is retraumatized the same day by the loss of his car, compounding all of the different struggles of the day (the “loss” of Azi, the rejection of Heaven and Hell, the end of the world, his apartment being invaded by murderous demons). Losing his car, his only other reliable companion, his comfort zone, leaves him at rock bottom. 

It is only Aziraphale who can help him cope with the losses and redirect on their impending doom. 

It is only Aziraphale who can help him focus through the panic of seeing his car burning before him, of ending Apocalypse before it starts,  and facing his worst fear -- Satan himself.  

It is only Aziraphale, who, despite Crowley’s overpowering resignment to death via Satan, Crowley trusts enough to refocus and come up with a plan to help Adam cause Armaggedon’t.  

Which brings me to the final trauma -- his torture. Crowley is aware of the abusive behavior in Heaven, and while he couldn’t have known he would have gotten a trial in Hell (albeit an unfair one), he does not witness it. Instead, he poses as Aziraphale and endures some of the specific psychological torture intended for his best friend. Although he knows he can survive Hellfire, there is trauma in KNOWING his best friend wouldn’t have. There is trauma in being told to shut his face and die. There is trauma in not receiving a trial.  (I’ll unpack this more in part 3)

The only thing that enables Crowley to survive, to work through this trauma, is his relationship with Aziraphale.  He goes out of his way to inspect the resurrect the book shop, to “tempt” Aziraphale to lunch, to indulge and maintain his best friend.  He does things that make the Angel comfortable and does not once lie or violate his trust. Always, he’s on their side. Although he storms out 3 times in the show, he always uses it as breathing room, before once again seeking Aziraphale out, willing to drop everything to run away together. 

Since Heaven and Hell have disregarded him, treated him as less than dirt, he approached Aziraphale AS EQUALS. Their dynamic (Which I’ll go into more later) is not on uneven footing, and both parties treat the other with a kindness neither of them is offered by their respective worlds.  

TLDR:  Aziraphale's love helps Crowley cope with his trauma and their no-strings-attached relationship enables him to begin healthier healing processes despite the abuses of Heaven and Hell.  

Thanks for coming to my Ted talk

#ineffable husbands #crowley #crowley and aziraphale #anthony j crowley #anthony janthony crowley #tw: abuse #tw: mentions of abuse #tw: trauma #tw: torture #thanks for coming to my Tedtalk #expect a part 3 #meta #good omens #good omens meta #sorrynotsorry #hopefully someone reads this #no I haven't read the book #yet #aziraphale #these two are in love #deep analysis #analysis #the ineffable plan

[the-apples-were-monitored]

12.28.20

So. 10 years.

Yeah, today is the 10 year anniversary of me making this blog. I’d previously been an Amy Pond roleplay blog, but I tired of that after a few weeks and deleted that and made this instead. It marked the beginning of the end for my DeviantART, which I deleted a few months later.

I can’t believe I’ve been on this site for 10 years, but also can’t imagine being anywhere else. This place is part of my routine now, and I can’t imagine life without this outlet. This bastion of Old Internet Anonymity. Sure, my drafts have been broken for 2 years, but that’s Tumblr.

Thank you to everyone who’s been with me over the years, even if we’ve fallen out of touch. Special thanks to @robincrowe, @empathetic-vibrations, and my gf @super-skitty who migrated with me from DeviantART back when I was still 10nant-Fangirl. Thanks to people like @doll-frakking-house who’ve been here almost as long. Thank you all.

If you want more content from me, I post music news/trivia as well as a song each day over on my music blog, the-music-dealer.

I also post frequently on Archive of Our Own under the name the-red-rabbit. I post...

Good Omens:

“This Was Originally Called ‘Temptation Waits’, But the Title Was Left in the Car”

Ineffable Wives AU focusing on the 6000 years.

“Child in a Seacave”

Some time after the narrowly averted apocalypse, Crowley receives a message from God. But will he agree to answer her? Written because I have trauma with my own parents, but I was keeping my trans readers in mind when I wrote this one.

“Crimson and Clover”

Aziraphale tries chat-up lines.

Good Omens Series:

As Heaven is Wide Series:

Part 1: As Heaven is Wide

Aziraphale and Crowley decide to take a post-apocalypse road trip to see the world, but it gets cut short when they come upon a teenage girl who (despite her protests) needs to be rescued. Things get more complicated when they find themselves once again in direct opposition of heaven, and they have to wonder if it's worth upending their shaky peace with heaven to keep her safe.

There are trigger warnings on this multi-chapter series, but I don't go into real graphic detail because I don't think the story needs that. As someone with trauma, I don't think it's productive to be incredibly graphic. I deal more in implications and off-screen for that type of material. (If you've read some of my other stuff, this one is positively tame compared to that.)

Part 2: Perfect

While Aziraphale finds himself quite comfortable with the trials of parenthood, Crowley finds that raising a teenager is more challenging than he'd expected.

Part 3: Going to Hell (In Progress and Updating today)

Sending their daughter to her first day at school was always going to be a challenge for Aziraphale and Crowley. After all, she still hasn't got a grip on her magic and the thought of being apart from her causes them some portion of anxiety. They just want her to enjoy her new life and fit in, but that's a little hard to do when a lost ghost appears to ask her for help.

Yeah, this one's definitely inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer, except instead of metaphors for growing up as a general thing, it's specifically metaphors for obstacles for healing from trauma.

Community:

“And a (Short) Movie”

The study group tries to define the word 'himbo'.

“Community: The Movie (One By One They All Just Fade Away)”

It's been 5 years since Abed Nadir left for Hollywood to pursue a career in film. When he receives a call in the dead of night from Greendale, Colorado, it becomes his responsibility to deliver the news to the rest of his old study group. He embarks on an epic journey to track down Troy Barnes on his boat.

Dean-dong, the Dean is dead.

But is he?

Jeff Winger isn't so sure. He enlists the help of his old "study buddy" Annie Edison to use her FBI skills to find out what really happened to Craig Pelton.

When the study group returns to Greendale, they find that the school has been bought out by Hot Topic. Britta, who liked Hot Topic back "before it sold out", immediately channels her grief into protesting it. But when she meets a fellow anarchist who has vowed to take down the chain from the inside, she's forced to contend with the fact that shouting opinions isn't the same as creating meaningful change.

I have one Hannibal/Willy Wonka fic that I wrote for fun: “Lollirot”

Willy Wonka is a humble man with a dream of making candy for all the children of the world. When he starts running out of ideas for new confections, he seeks help for his depression. His doctor, Hannibal Lecter, is a strangely charming man with unorthodox ideas for how a factory should be run. Before long, Will starts to experience paranoid delusions about his competitors and loses his grip on reality as he sinks deeper into self-imposed isolation with nobody but his doctor to guide him.

A prequel to the show Hannibal.

One Grinch fic: “How the Grinch Got Therapy”

Epilogue to How the Grinch Stole Christmas empathizing with the Grinch. Because as a person with religious trauma, especially centered around Christmas, I think it's about time that we stop shaming people for not having fun during Christmas. Some people won't celebrate and it's weird how we're all expected to assimilate.

And my magnum opus, the fic I’ve been working on off and on for 10 years even since my DeviantART days...

Doctor Who Fic Series:

Am I...Ginger?:

Season 1: Am I...Ginger?

The Doctor swore off companions after Journey's End, believing himself too dangerous to be around them. But while looking for members of the Trickster's Brigade, he stumbled upon a child of Torchwood that made him question all that.

Of course, there's another problem. He was warned that the Trickster had a weapon, one that could defeat him once and for all. He follows the clues to London, where he finds a nameless woman whose love of history does not include sharing her own. Could she be the weapon he was warned about? Is he just interested in her as a distraction from his own mortality? Can she be saved this time? Can any of them? Or are they doomed to life the way it was written?

(Set between the Wedding of Sarah Jane Smith and the Waters of Mars.)

(There are trigger warnings, but as always it only applies to one specific chapter and potential mentions. But this will deal with issues that people might find distasteful.)

Season 2: Am I...Ginger? The Mourning After (In Progress and Updating Today)

Picking up right from where season 1 left off.

"The Doctor's dead."

That's where this story left off. Despite many attempts to contact him, he's been nowhere to be found. But DOES that mean he's dead? The ragtag group of misfits he left behind keep having conflicting thoughts on the subject. Is he dead? Held hostage somewhere in need of rescue? Just avoiding them?

Just when they give up hope, the Doctor decides to crash his own funeral. Two funeral crashings in a row, that has to be a record for him. But can he still fit in the world he left behind, or has he changed too much? Is it even a good idea to try?

Set when Amy and Rory are on their honeymoon (between "A Christmas Carol" and "The Impossible Astronaut"). This is also just after "The Death of the Doctor" episode of the Sarah Jane Adventures. As usual, I'm playing fill-in-the-blanks with unexplored parts of canon.

...

10 years flew by. You guys have been there with me through some of the toughest parts of my life. I made this blog when I was still a 15 year old in an abusive home and it’s been with me ever since. So let’s hope the next 10 years will be better lmao.

[asparklethatisblue]

Writing Round Up 2019

I guess I do write enough for one of those. So here we go:

Dragon Age: 

A Cat’s Tenth Life (T - Dorian/The Iron Bull)

After a misfired spell Dorian finds himself in the possession of a freshly resurrected undead cat. Everyone is charmed and in love with the new addition to Skyhold - except the Iron Bull.

An illustrated fic of life in Skyhold with the presence of a spirit cat.

This was a collaboration with my good boy @hattedhedgehog (they did the art, the editing, and we brainstormed together). It’s a very cute little story with some slice of life and cat ghosts

The War Table (T - Dorian/The Iron Bull, Cullen/Inquisitor Lavellan)

Dorian decides to seize the moment and have some sneaky fun time on the War Table with Bull. Little does he know...he's not the first to have that idea.

A very short one shot, crack too

Licking Qunari and Other Bad Ideas (E - Arishok/Hawke)

Years of admiration and mutual attraction lead to Hawke and the Arishok striking up a hesitant affair. Predictably, things don't go smoothly at any point whatsoever.

An entire fic based on “what if someone accidentally licked the poison vitaar on Qunari skin” and a joke in the very final scene. Also the Arishok is hot and I will not be taking criticism at this moment

A Truth Found in Freedom (G - Dorian/The Iron Bull)

Skyhold becomes the home of a new group of Tal Vashoth, including a number of children. As Dorian and Bull grow closer to them, they must confront what family means to them, and what they might want from the future.

Once again a collaboration with Harry, in the same manner as before. A kidfic including adoption, character study, and lots of original characters. I originally got the idea when seeing a critique about the usual tropes in “Dorian and Bull adopt a Qunari child” and I really wanted to come up with a story that’s as close to what might actually happen as possible

Good Omens: 

Let Sleeping Snakes Lie (G - Crowley/Aziraphale)

Aziraphale confesses his love for Crowley when he can contain it no longer. Oh, not to the demon himself of course. To a sleeping snake.

A fic I wrote after not sleeping all night and then going to uni super early. It’s based on one of my favourite romance scenes from one of my favourite movies (Stardust) 

An Arrangement of Convenience (E - Crowley/Aziraphale) 

Aziraphale works to purchase a bookshop space, but currently being a woman-shaped creature has its drawbacks when faced with rude property owners. The most obvious solution is to get Crowley to act as his husband and deal with all that nonsense, of course.

So anyone who followed me for longer than a couple weeks knows that I’m absolutely head over heels for “Aziraphale presents as a lady in the 18th century) and I do so love romance stories and bodice rippers and so on. The fake married fic in which they are really enjoying the make believe

Fractured Heart (T - Crowley/Aziraphale)

Angels are sturdy beings, but rigid and changeless and not meant to endure grief or loss. When thousands Fall and many more are slain in the Great Rebellion, they either literally break apart...or forget. Aziraphale's only memories of his lost beloved are his lover's skill at creating stars. Memories he cherishes above all else. It complicates matters when his heart starts attaching to a certain demon, but perhaps his time on earth can teach him how to heal.

My only multichapter fic for Good Omens (so far?). I really got stuck on the idea of angelic marks being their scars, and it’s mostly character study and Aziraphale’s relation with grief and human capacity to change 

Spread Thy Wings (E - Crowley/Aziraphale) 

After everything they've been through, Crowley worries that he might accidentally get Aziraphale sick with each loving touch, now that they are together at last. After all a demon has Hell all over their body, and Hell's touch is harmful to angels. So while he works on a solution for that problem he can at least keep an eye on the state of Aziraphale's wings to make sure he's not hurt.

Aziraphale, meanwhile, gets the dawning suspicion that Crowley might indeed have a wing kink.

Sometimes I enjoy a trope a lot (Crowley worrying about the effect of his affection on Aziraphale) and then really want to do my own spin on it. I tried to do this as angst free as possible for Crowley at least

Forfeit (G - Crowley/Aziraphale) 

Aziraphale decides to teach Crowley a few Victorian party games, and Crowley learns about sneaky ways to flirt within a society based on yearning and repression.

honestly looking up Victorian social conventions is the best inspiration 

The Invention of the Salacious Selfie (E Crowley/Aziraphale)

Crowley invented the selfie. And right before doing that he invented the Dick Pic.

Secure in his knowledge that Aziraphale does not in fact own a mobile phone capable of displaying such images Crowley ends up sending dozens of saucy images. It's not like the angel can receive and look at them after all, or access the backlog should he ever get a phone. Right?

I just... needed to do something silly

The Hobbit: 

Thutratur (G Nori/Dwalin)

Without a mountain over his head Nori grew up with the stars above him. Good thing he's quite fond of them then.

Will I ever calm down about Nori and star symbolism? No

The Princess and the Thief (G - Nori & Dís, Nori/Dwalin) 

After an attempt to warn the royal family about an impeding burglary Nori ends up befriending princess Dís quite on accident. Despite their unusual first meeting and the differences between them it ends up lasting through the decades.

A collection of scenes in the lives of Dís and Nori

Slice of Life, in a way, I always liked to imagine that Nori is friends with someone in the royal family, especially Dís. 

#my fic #writing round up 2019

[theres-a-goldensky]

32 + 6 Good Omens Fic Recs

There have been so many good stories to come out of the Good Omens fandom that I thought I should finally go about making a rec list and give credit to the ones that have given me the most joy.

As ever, feel free to reblog and check out my other rec lists for the following fandoms:

The Untamed list one and two - various pairings, mostly Wangxian

IT chapter 2 list one and two - Reddie

Various BL Series fic (fandoms: Love By Chance, TharnType, 2Moons series, My Engineer, Until We Meet Again, 2gether, History3: Trapped)

Or just head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

All fics are completed. All fics are Aziraphale/Crowley.

** denotes a favorite

1. you knew my name on sight by brinnanza - “This wasn’t me, you know,” Crowley says, the words out of his mouth before he’s made the conscious choice to utter them. “Not just the library, but the whole civil war. You know me; I’ve mostly been getting drunk at Bacchanals.”

“I know,” says Aziraphale. (general, 8,300 words)

Reccer’s note: Aziraphale knows Crowley, perhaps even better than he knows himself. This is a bittersweet story about two human shaped-beings who love the Earth, even when it hurts.

2. End with Hope by PepperPrints - In 537 A.D., the Black Knight enters King Arthur's Tournament of Champions, with quite disastrous consequences, and Sir Aziraphale of the Round Table takes it upon himself to intervene -- which, naturally, also turns out to be quite disastrous in itself. (explicit, 15,888 words)

Reccer’s note: Such great pining from Crowley here. This is a really meaty story with a satisfying ending and a gorgeous sex scene, but it definitely leaves me wishing for a modern sequel to see what happens next.

3. Fraternizing by kalpurna - Aziraphale has an unexpected house guest. Crowley disapproves. (explicit, 5,720 words)

Reccer’s note: A curious young angel comes down from Heaven to investigate what things are like on Earth. He asks a lot of very...awkward questions about Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship. It seems to diverge from canon in that Heaven knows about Aziraphale working with Crowley and sort of looks the other way.

4.  Some strangeness in the proportion by trailingoff -  ‘I assume your punishment involved the destruction of the demon, but I am not aware of the details,’ says the Angel. ‘The description was redacted from your file and labelled “Highly Classified” with a red stamp.’

*Aziraphale is trying to mourn in peace, but the cause of his grief keeps bothering him. (teen, 11,461 words)

Reccer’s note: Heavy angst warning. This one hurt, but in the best way. Angst with a happy ending. Gabriel figures out the best way to hurt Aziraphale: he makes Crowley into another soulless angel. This story contains grieving and suicidal ideation and attempted suicide. Aziraphale does not take Crowley’s passing well.

5. In Style by shinyopals -  ‘You can’t get kidnapped by the forces of Hell looking like that!’ insists Crowley. ‘I have certain standards to maintain!’

Letting someone else drive your body is weird enough without them accidentally ruining your look. Luckily Crowley's around to fix things. (general, 2,124 words)

Reccer’s note: I am an absolute sucker for stories about playing with hair or massage or any kind of pleasant, comforting touching, and this is a great one. I liked Crowley’s voice in this, and the whole thing was very sweet and cozy.

6. Birds of a Feather by idiopathicsmile -  “Isn’t this nice?” says Aziraphale with badly feigned casualness the next time Crowley stops by for a late night drink.

Crowley is all set to reply, words lined up in his mouth waiting to go, when Aziraphale adds, “I mean, all of the books and furniture and bottles of wine and things?”

Aziraphale nests. Crowley relearns some crucial facts about angelic courtship rituals. (teen, 3608 words)

Reccer’s note: Aziraphale decides to go all in on courting Crowley, but Crowley is entirely befuddled by what is happening. Some nice mutual pining here, followed by a bit of supernatural, glowy sex.

7. By Definition by idiopathicsmile - Aziraphale has certainly dabbled in the world of carnal delights over the years, most notably in the late nineteenth century, when a certain infernal adversary was enjoying a century-long nap and seemingly the only way to pass the time had been to develop some hobbies.  (explicit, 3074 words)

Reccer’s note: Aziraphale is not that into sex, but he’s VERY into Crowley and watching him come apart beneath him. And Crowley is VERY interested in, you know, having that happen. So things work out quite nicely. Even though the physical sensations of sex don’t do much for him, the author does a nice job of showing how Aziraphale still luxuriates in watching Crowley. It’s super hot. Crowley agrees.

8. I am not scared of the elements by sparklespiff - After the loveliest meal of his entire existence, Aziraphale followed Crowley back to the Bentley. He wondered if it would be too forward to try to hold Crowley's free hand, or if he ought to wait for Crowley to reach out. Probably he should wait. Crowley had done the asking, after all, and would better know what he was doing. And anyway, riding in the Bentley was dangerous enough without removing one of Crowley's hands from doing something theoretically necessary for the operation of an automobile. 

or: Two occult/ethereal beings with one (1) brain cell between them attempt to end 6000 years of pining. (general, 3609 words)

Reccer’s note: Aziraphale thinks it’s go time after the events of the show, but Crowley believes that Aziraphale has once again put on the brakes. They’re working at cross-purposes, but they both want the same thing. Eventually it all works out.

9. attachment by artenon - 1941. Crowley is hurt more than he lets on from walking on the consecrated ground of the church. Aziraphale takes care of him while grappling with the realization that he's in love with Crowley. (teen, 4455 words)

A bit of mild hurt/comfort. It’s always nice when stories have Aziraphale helping Crowley, because it’s often the other way around. And you can never go wrong with a good h/c.

10. speeding up by tamerofdarkstars - Crowley stopped calculating the minute shifts required to bring his knee into contact with Aziraphale’s and looked instead at the divine being next to him currently licking butter off his fingers.

“Wait. You picked this because you thought I’d like it?” (general, 1725 words)

Reccer’s note: This is one of the shortest fics on the list, but what it lacks in length, it makes up for in utter preciousness. So many pure ‘what if I held his hand??’ thoughts.

11.** Five Times Crowley Fails To Demonically Seduce Anyone, And One Time He Doesn't Need To by shinyopals -  'I need you to tell me how to find a human willing to have sex with me, and then how to persuade them to actually do it in the least unpleasant way possible for everyone involved. If I don’t manage at least one seduction, I’m going to get recalled back Down There.’ 

Aziraphale stared at Crowley for a moment. ‘I think…’ he said delicately, ‘that we should have that drink.’ (mature, 11,166 words)

Reccer’s note: Oh, the feelings. The feelings. Crowley is forced by Hell to engage in some human seduction, when all he wants to do is be seduced by Aziraphale. The pining. The light angst. The gorgeous ending. Read this story.

12. ** Anywhere You Want to Go by Aria -  Aziraphale knew Crowley liked him. He'd known it with a horrible clarity since around 1100, which was at least a thousand years after the first time he'd thought of kissing Crowley, and some eight hundred and odd before it occurred to him that the specific quality of Crowley's regard could be very dangerous for both of them, if they actually admitted their feelings aloud.

It was also two weeks since any of that had mattered at all anymore. (explicit, 9990 words)

Reccer’s note: I wish this story was about 10,000 words longer. The sweet and slow coming together here is lovely. This is a South Downs cottage story, where, after everything, Aziraphale is finally ready to face his feelings for Crowley and Crowley’s feelings for him in return. Crowley’s disbelieving, besotted, overwhelmed reaction is my new favorite thing in this fandom.

13. human childcare for the occult (and ethereal) by suzukiblu - The Dowlings miraculously need a nanny and a gardener at the same time, and Aziraphale suggests they flip for it. Crowley takes one moment to picture Aziraphale nannying anyone and calls dibs. It’s not that Aziraphale’s terrible with humans, he’s just, well. Terrible with humans. Truly, truly terrible.

He doesn’t want to deal with Aziraphale getting metaphorically guillotined or kicking up security’s paranoia, basically. A gardener can be a little odd, and no one will notice or care. Except Warlock, perhaps, as the only other person with any real reason to spend much time out on the lawn, but Warlock’s the one they want noticing so that’ll be fine, Crowley’s sure.

Even if it does make him cringe a little, leaving Aziraphale in charge of the plants. (general, 11,954 words)

Reccer’s note: As with all nanny/gardener stories, you need to mentally erase Aziraphale’s horrifying gardener disguise from your brain in order to enjoy this. But this tale of Crowley and Aziraphale becoming “godfathers” to Warlock and making a cozy little life together at the Dowlings is wonderful.

14. Naps and Other Surprises by out_there - The angel is a surprisingly good kisser. All soft lips and gentle sighs, and the careful graze of fingertips along Crowley's jaw. But there's also the scrape of fingernails at the nape of his neck, the pins and needles shiver it sends down his spine, the slightest catch of teeth on his lower lip. (explicit, 4,312 words)

Reccer’s note: Another slow and cozy fic that starts with Aziraphale slowly and carefully giving Crowley a massage and ends with him slowly and carefully eating Crowley out. Pretty nice day for Crowley tbh.

15 & 16. Ineffable Endearments series by TheLadyZephyr - So far this series includes two stories: Four times Crowley called Aziraphale "sweetheart" without noticing (and One time he did) and Four times Crowley fails to cope with Aziraphale using a pet name (and One time he starts to get used to it)

(not rated, 6,130 words total for the series)

Reccer’s note: Look, if you’re going to do the pet names things, I think you have to really lean into it, and that’s what this author does. It’s sweet how adorably flustered they each get in these stories. So fluffy.

17. An Angel who did not so much Fall In Love as Settle Into It Gradually by TheLadyZephyr - Crowley was standing in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, looking a little lost. Aziraphale eyed the distance between them. Five steps. Five steps, and six thousand years, and a battlefield spanning an eternity.

The story of the little moments over the millennia that shape an angel’s regard for a demon, and the way he slowly, with great reluctance but inevitable surety, falls in love. (general, 7,548 words)

Reccer’s note: I wish more stories would span the centuries the way that this one does. There’s so much material ripe for a good love story in it, and this author seems to understand that. Slow burn that I wish was a little slower, but still left me satisfied, especially the kiss at the end, when Aziraphale literally says “fuck it.”

18. get religion quick (cause you're looking divine) by brinnanza - So it was fine. Even if Crowley couldn’t love him, he clearly liked him well enough, and that was almost the same thing.

It no doubt would have continued to be fine, or at least fine-adjacent, were it not for a narrowly averted apocalypse and several bottles of a really quite nice Riesling Aziraphale had found in the back room of his newly restored bookshop. (general, 4,285 words)

Reccer’s note: Why, why, why aren’t there more stories with Aziraphale being sure that Crowley can’t love him? This is wonderful seeing the pining from the other side. And of course Aziraphale is completely wrong and completely silly, but that just makes it better. Stars in my eyes for this one.

19. Wings and How to Hide Them by triedunture - Crowley's been annoyingly in love for six thousand years. What's another lifetime between friends? 

Or: Aziraphale definitely fucks and isn't that just perfect?  (Mature,10,134 words)

Reccer’s note: Crowley knows that Aziraphale has sex, so he assumes it must just be him he doesn’t want. Aziraphale, meanwhile, assumes that Crowley just isn’t Into That. 6000 years of Crowley pining. I will honestly never get enough of this trope. Not ever. I will die wanting more.

20. the first week of the rest of their lives by Deputychairman - “Port gives the worst hangovers in the world, did you know that?” Crowley slurred when the bottle was all gone. “Don’t know who got credit for that one. Nice drink, lovely drink, shame it makes you want to die in the morning.”

“Such a shame,” Aziraphale agreed sadly, watching Crowley stretch out on his sofa. He did like port. He liked Crowley stretched out on his sofa, too. (mature, 4,618 words)

Reccer’s note: The world doesn’t end, but Aziraphale needs a bit of time to ease himself into the idea of a life with Crowley. Crowley obliges him, as ever. I like the way that the sex feels inevitable here, like they’re just falling naturally into it. I also like that Crowley is the one to ravish Aziraphale first.

21. Not So Blue by pineapplecrushface - Aziraphale presses his suit. Crowley mostly has a lot of questions. (mature, 5,501 words)

Reccer’s note: After the events of the show, things start to change and Crowley doesn’t know if he’s quite ready for it. The way that Crowley comes to recognize Aziraphale’s feelings for what they are was so beautiful.

22. Almost Human Moments by shinyopals - The fact that Crowley's largest contribution to saving the world had been to encourage a scared child was an uncomfortable fact that he was endeavouring to bottle up. He was actually doing quite well at bottling it up because of all the other uncomfortable facts he was currently dealing with that he couldn’t even begin to figure out how to bottle up.  

Such as: Hell was going to find him, and make him pay.

After the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, Crowley broods, Aziraphale thinks, and somehow they manage to muddle through. (teen, 6,701 words)

Reccer’s note: The visceral and immediate reaction that Crowley has to the idea of Aziraphale going down to Hell was so lovely. There’s also some very intense hand holding that really pushes my buttons. The world needs more desperate hand holding.

23. ** Ever After by ArabellaFaith - We all know they're in love. But maybe, now that the head offices are off their backs, Crowley and Aziraphale can actually DO something about it.

A rambling descent into love confessions, sexual exploration, and what it means for these two to live happily ever after. (explicit, 16,450 words)

Reccer’s note: So much sex. So much really, really good sex. Desperate sex. First time sex. Sex with feelings Is there anything better in fanfic? I really don’t think so.

24 & 25. ** It’s Not The End of the World, Dear series by jessthereckless -  Series includes two stories so far: Lie Back And Think Of Dinner and Still My Heart Has Wings

After averting the apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale re-examine their relationship and reach the obvious conclusion: they're retired, they're in love and they're damn well going to enjoy it. Providing, of course, that they can stay out of trouble. (mature, 20,745 words total for the series)

Reccer’s note: WHY ISN’T THERE MORE MAGICAL SEX IN THIS FANDOM? I want literally earth-shattering orgasms, give them to me, people. These stories are so good, because the author packs so much feeling and sensuality into every agonized scene between them. There’s desperation, there’s so much love, and there’s really weird-but-hot sex.

26. Taking the Liberty by CartWrite - After swapping bodies (but before their respective sides come for them), Aziraphale spends the night in Crowley's flat trying to figure out how to talk, walk, and be convincing as Crowley. Trouble is, he's such a convincing Crowley, he starts to convince himself to... well. Things get out of hand. (explicit, 3,463 words)

Reccer’s note: Is it really masturbation if you’re bodyswapped with the guy you’ve spent 6000 years pretending not to be obsessed with? Asking for a friend.

27. a city wall and a trampoline by kafkian - In their cottage in the South Downs, when Crowley eventually succeeds in getting Aziraphale to use a laptop, it takes Aziraphale literal hours to get past the default Windows screensavers of picturesque locations because 'oh, look, isn't it lovely, Crowley!'

5 times Crowley knows he’s in love with Aziraphale + 1 time he knows the reverse. (teen, 4,727 words)

Reccer’s note: Crowley just being so endlessly fond of Aziraphale fills me with so much joy. And it’s here again. It’s technically five times that he knows he’s in love with Aziraphale, but it’s also five times that Crowley tries so hard to make Aziraphale happy.

28. A Home at the Beginning of the World by stereobone - "Oh," Aziraphale says. "I think Crowley might have moved in with me." (explicit, 5,867 words)

Reccer’s note: A visit with Anathema and Newt helps Aziraphale realize some very clear things that he’s been missing.

29. Too Generous by rfsmiley - “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.”

Or: what happened after the [ we all got hit by a ] bus scene (aka "you could stay at my place, if you like")....(teen, 1,501 words)

Reccer’s note: Crowley offers Aziraphale the bed, and Aziraphale suggests that there would be room for two. Contains slinky Crowley, which there should just be more of in the world.

30. His Banner Over Me by pineapplecrushface - Three of Aziraphale's excellent ideas, and how Crowley (very casually) obliges him, as a friend does. (explicit, 5475 words)

Reccer’s note: Handjobs. Just...truly excellent mutual handjobs. \

+6

And finally, because this is my blog and I can, here is a list of my own stories for after you finish all the recs above:

1. The Seduction Malfunction - “Disguise yourself,” Hastur said. “Pretend you’re a priest, or better yet, an altar boy. Their lot can’t resist an altar boy.”  

Crowley held in a hysterical bubble of laughter as he imagined Aziraphale’s horrified face at being confronted with Crowley disguised as a lascivious altar boy. He’d feed him soup and give him a good talking to before sending him on his way.

Crowley gets orders to seduce Aziraphale to the dark side. It goes about as well as you might expect. (teen, 5,441 words)

2. Transference - There was always a low level hum of attraction and lust in the air when Crowley was around. In fact, Aziraphale couldn’t recall a single time, after their first meeting on the wall, when he hadn’t watched Crowley dazzle and transfix every poor human that they encountered. He’d even seen Eve give him the eye when he was in his human form, back in the day, and she’d been with child at the time.   

Aziraphale couldn’t blame them for falling victim to Crowley’s considerable wiles. He was a demon, after all. Tempting was in the job description. Plus, he’d clearly designed his human form to be utterly irresistible to all humans, from his eye-catching hair down to his stylish clothing. It was overkill, if you asked Aziraphale. But then, he supposed, overkill wasn’t really a thing with demons.

Aziraphale would win a gold medal in Mental Gymnastics. (mature, 4,282 words)

3. Step in the Bright Lights - The angel was holding court on the walking path surrounded by a passel of small children and their bored parents. He wore an absolutely ridiculous magician’s costume, complete with a top hat, cape, black wand, and a painted on mustache above his upper lip that had Crowley recoiling in horror. On a table in front of Aziraphale was a sign that proclaimed: THE AMAZING MISTER FELL AND HIS REMARKABLE FEATS OF PRESTIDIGITATION.  

He almost turned right around, but then Aziraphale spotted him and waved enthusiastically, stopping in the middle of a bit involving some handkerchiefs coming out of his sleeve to greet him. 

“Oh, look, children! It’s the Amazing Mr. Fell’s very special assistant, Signor Crowley!”

Aziraphale picks up some new hobbies. Crowley has no chill. (teen, 3,311 words)

4. Something To Talk About - He had the sudden and almost overwhelming desire to reach out and take Crowley’s hand. An absurd notion, of course. In 6000 years, Crowley had never shown any inclination towards physical affection for Aziraphale, despite their shared feelings. Aziraphale had long ago accepted that any gentle touch from him would have Crowley stepping hastily away and otherwise ignoring Aziraphale’s attempts. Or at least he had accepted it, until their delicate status quo had been disrupted.

Aziraphale jumps to some very inaccurate conclusions. (explicit, 3,664 words)

5. To Rest My Weary Soul - “Are you saying I feel like this because of my time in Hell? I thought you meant moral consequences.” 

“Since when do I give a toss about moral consequences, angel? No, you’ve got a Hell hangover. Must have hit once the adrenaline wore off,” Crowley answered.

“Hell hangover?” Aziraphale repeated incredulously.

Aziraphale's trip down to Hell leaves him worse for wear. (teen, 3,945 words)

Bonus: Podfic by FayJay

6. Taking the Long Way - Crawley nodded down at the sweaty humans undulating in a frightfully uncomfortable-looking position below them. “Mating,” he clarified. “One of God’s better ideas, if you ask me. Looks like it could be fun.”

“Does it?” Aziraphale asked doubtfully. “It’s all a bit sticky for my tastes. I think She had the right of it with plants. Pollination seems much more sensible.”

It takes Aziraphale 6000 years to catch up. (explicit, 6,919 words)

#good omens #good omens fic #fic recs #reclist #ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands fic rec #ineffable husbands fic #aziraphale/crowley

[thedupshadove]

I've tried to organize my thoughts on this, but they just keep going around in circles, so I'm afraid this is going to have to be very disorganized.

"I've seen a couple of different people say that Show!Crowley (Showley) reads as Jewish to them. Hmmm..."

"I mean, I can see where they're coming from, to be sure. He says that he Fell for 'asking too many questions', and in general seems quite happy to criticize and argue with and even just mock God and the divine, yet there are moments when we see him pray, straight-up pray, with such sincerity and openness and so little ritual, like he's trying to persuade or, failing that, just understand. All of which is very Jewish in its way."

"But hang on, he's a demon! Asking all those questions is what made him Fall. So is the show saying that relating to God and faith in a Jewish way will get you cast out? I mean that would be...something."

"(Also wait, isn't Neil Gaiman Jewish? Should I be insinuating that a Jewish writer is dealing in antisemitic tropes?)"

"(Well it is possible for that to happen.)"

"(Yeah, but am I the best judge of when it's happening?)"

"(Good grief no. But I can't talk about all this and leave that fact out.)"

"(Hey, and haven't I read somewhere that he doesn't identify as Jewish per se?)"

"(But that was second-hand and I've seen him call himself Jewish on his own actual blog.)"

"(Look, I'm even more out of my depth here than I am with the rest of this, better give it a miss.)"

"Well anyway, sure Crowley's a demon but he's not exactly evil incarnate, is he? He's portrayed very sympathetically throughout, and the scene where he talks about Falling for asking questions is one of his most moving monents."

"Granted, but the other problem with this whole 'Crowley reads a Jewish' idea is that Good Omens is built entirely on Christian mythology. It's about the Antichrist! You can't have an Antichrist without a Christ! And the presentation of Heavan and Hell is Christian. I mean, subverted and kind of twisted, but still Christian. It's a lose adaptation of the Book of Revalations, which is Christian scripture. Not even one of the books that Judaism and Christianity sort of share custody of; it's 100% just Christian."

"And there's nothing wrong with that! Nobody's ever asked that adaptations of Christian scripture or religious fantasy from a Christian viewpoint not get made; just that it owns what it is and doesn't call itself 'Judeo-Christian' in an uneeded and unwise attempt at 'inclusivity'."

"But if you're going to have a story in which Christian mythology and doctrine is unambiguously true, including an explicitly Jewish character almost can't help but get awkward real quick."

"So do you have a conclusion?"

"No"

#good omens #good omens 2019 #good omens amazon #good omens tv #crowley #judaism #character interpretation

[hekate1308]

Hand Of Fate

You didn’t think I would stop saving Crowley anytime soon, did you? Enjoy!

It is one thing to be desperate. Dean knows the feeling.

But Sam’s insistence over the last few weeks that they go through every single book in the library to try and find a way to rescue Mom is a bit much.

Especially because in his heart of hearts, he is sure she is dead. Or at least gone.

He just can’t bring himself to tell his little brother that, considering everything, there was little difference she made in their lives.

Still – if it helps –

And so, he keeps doing what Sam is adamant they should until one day his brother returns triumphant, bearing the news of an ancient artefact that the Men of Letters wrote about but apparently never laid hands on. “It’s the Hand of Fate.”

“Sounds great.”

Sam frowns. “It’s a plan.”

“Let me check…” Huh, actually a severed human hand. Well, Dean has seen weirder. Apparently, their old pal Atropos touched it at one point and that gave it superpowers.

Although… “Sammy, it says here that it can connect those who have a strong, well, connection…”

He expects to be told off for his repeated use of the word, but instead Sam says, “And? She’s our mother!”

Yes, she is – was – is. But that doesn’t mean she understood them, or that they ever understood her. Learning that she didn’t know how to cook was just the tip of the iceberg.

Dean knows this. He knows this because Dad never got him either, if he’s being honest with himself.

But Sammy wants to try, so they are going to try.

As it turns out, the Hand showed up a few years again at an auction and is now housed in a museum in Massachusetts, of all places. They don’t really have much of a security system, if you overlook the one sole night guard they pay to walk around with a flashlight, so stealing it is like taking candy from a baby.

However, when Sam, eager to use it, writes down the ritual – seems like they need to build a triangle of three things that belonged to the person they are trying to reach and put the Hand in the middle, holding a burning candle – Dean has an idea. “Say, Sammy, what do you think about making a trial run?”

“A trial run?”

“Yes. For –“ he swallows, another surge of grief making it difficult to speak for a moment. “For Cas.”

Sam’s eyes soften. “Dean, Cas is gone. We burned his body.”

“Yes, but this is supposed to bring anyone back who has a “connection” to us, right? And Cas always said we had a “more profound bond” or whatever.”

Sam thinks about that for a moment then sighs “Alright” in that tone he uses when he has decided to indulge Dean, but who cares. They have to try. Especially since this Hand thing seems to come without repercussions, which is rare enough.

And so, Dean does the necessary preparations. One of the three things is of course Cas’ angel blade; then there is the laptop he used when he wanted to watch Netflix; and then –

“Dude, is that a pillow?”

Dean shrugs. “You know he likes to lounge around on his bed when he has the time.” A part of him reminds himself that there is no reason to talk of Cas in the present tense, they have no idea if this will work after all, but he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it.  

Sam seems to concede the point and they perform the ritual.

Even if Dean would still allow himself to hope – he makes a point of not hoping, these days – he wouldn’t have believed how easy it is.

A flicker of the candlelight, a light puff, and – there he is.

He blinks at them. “Dean? Sam?”

Dean is quick to wrap him up in a hug. “Welcome back, man.”

It’s of course not quite as easy as that – Cas is understandably confused, and the Hand apparently can only be used a few times before the power fizzles out forever, so trying to get everyone they have lost over the years back is out of the question.

Still. Cas is back. That’s a lot, if you ask Dean.

It’s a good thing they first brought Cas back, because, as Dean knew deep down it would, attempting the same with Mom only results in failure. It starts with the fact that there are barely three objects in the bunker – hell, maybe the world – Mom considered of importance to her; and then – well –

Dean sees the knowledge in Cas’ eyes, the knowledge that try as they might, they never did connect with her the way they did with Bobby or Jody or Cas or –

But Dean doesn’t go there. That way lies madness.

So, it seems he has gone mad after all, because Dean is doing this.

Sam has been busy with research – doing everything he can to find out whether there might be exceptions to the rules, and if so, how to circumvent them – Cas has slowly been getting his bearings, and Dean, well…

In his defines, he tried very hard to convince himself not to try this. After all, it means using one of the precious few times they can use the Hand on – on –

He looks down at the circle.

A half-empty bottle of Craig that really, he should have thrown out long ago, a bullet from the now long-gone Colt, and Juliet’s collar.

She showed up at the bunker a few weeks after Crowley’s death; Sam told Dean to deal with her, since she seemed rather attached to him (he never thought he’d see the day when a hellhound acted like a scared puppy looking for its owner, but here they were). He really did take her out in the woods to do just that – deal with her – and instead ended up taking off her collar and letting her roam free. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t.

Somehow, it was a strange comfort to think that a part of Crowley is still out there.

And at least he’s got three things, now.

He’s doing the ritual in the middle of the night in his room, but he probably shouldn’t be surprised when Cas knocks. “I knew before you did” is all he says as he slips in and gently closes the door behind him.

Dean nods.

And then he performs the ritual.

Now, this hole “connection” thing isn’t really explained well in their sources, and even if it were, he doesn’t really know if he’d go so far as to say that he and Crowley were friends; but they knew each other for almost a decade, and he certainly wouldn’t have called them –

Another small puff and then a demon in a dirty suit is staring at them. “What the – Squirrel?”

“Crowley.”

He turns his head. “Feathers?”

“Crowley.”

He seems about to say something, then just shakes his head and snatches the bottle of Craig off the floor. “I need a drink.”

“I think we all do” is Dean’s reply – for lack of anything else to say, really.

“The Hand of Fate. I’d heard rumours, of course, but didn’t think it’d just show up out of the blue.”

Dean shrugs. “Sometimes even we get lucky.” It’s a pathetic attempt at a joke, and Cas and Crowley barely react to it.

Crowley frowns. “But I thought there had to be a certain connection between the person someone is trying to save and –“

“Crowley, I think it is sage to say that “that ship has sailed”” Cas interrupts him, using his quoty fingers once again.

He is silent at that – well, for a second, then he starts to complain because – well it’s Crowley and if he wouldn’t be complaining about something, Dean would be worried. “What’s Juliet’s collar doing here? You didn’t –“

“No” he hastens to say. “I am pretty sure she’ll show up now, anyway, since you’re back.”

She certainly seemed to know where to turn to back when she first appeared.

“She better.”

Dean groans. “Crowley, come on –“

“Thank you.” The demon seems surprised at himself, and Dean can’t say he’s seen that coming, either – although none of them knew if he just thanked him for sparing Juliet or bringing him back.

“Yeah, well – “

And then all three of them are just sitting there awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed.

At least that decision is taken from them, however, when suddenly, he hears his brother say, “I heard voices and wondered – Crowley?!”

Dean winces and readies himself for a fight, but when he glances at the demon, there is a hint of mischief in his eyes that turns his own smile genuine as he addresses Sam, “Yeah, about that…”

#spn #crowley #my writings

[neven-ebrez]

Supernatural's Narrative Structure Throughout the Years (Read More edition)

Supernatural has seen four showrunners (with one consistent one throughout, Robert Singer), which are: Eric Kripke, Sera Gamble, Jeremy Carver and now, Andrew Dabb.  At the beginning, the show focused on a more simplistic method of storytelling; the protagonists Sam and Dean Winchester went up against urban legends while looking for their elusive father.  Thirteen seasons later and this pilot season marks the only true exception to the show’s narrative structure. Starting in season 2 the show adopts a method of storytelling known as the A/B/C structure.  There is a “A” plot (known as the show’s “mytharc”), its “B” plot (its character development arc, usually shown through the lens of Dean Winchester, but the show frequently, especially in its later years, shows this through others), and then finally, its “C” plot, which exists in the form of “filler episodes” referred to as “Monsters of the Week”, or MOTW for the purposes of the meta writing community.  And it is through this mirrored structure that the complete story of Supernatural is told.

Dean Winchester is the show’s lens of righteousness (earlier on, but this shifts from time to time) and it is through him that the adopted structure of the show reveals both its strength and weakness.  Dean has learned not to talk about his hard life and frequently when he is begged to share his feelings, they are dismissed (unfortunately by Sam, Bobby, and Cas at various points) in favor of the show’s enforcement of toxic masculinity (oh, drama!) to maintain such structure needed to support a static two lead format.  Instead of Dean talking about his feelings, they are told through the show’s MOTW characters and situations.  This process is referred to as “the ‘C’ plot mirrors the 'B’ plot”, discussed further in length here and here.  Because of the various degrees of repression carried by our main characters, the show uses other characters to tell their stories with words.  The show often also creates whole characters to represent ideas, both simple (Bela Talbot, S3) and complex (Amara, S11). Almost every character that is not Sam and Dean, especially in the  seasons, is created and crafted to tell the story of them.  This creates situations where the show is frequently problematic in its social message/image because it’s using a multitude of diverse often under represented characters to tell the story of two white textually straight male leads, and then later, its two most often recurring regulars.  Because these things are not socially equal, the show endures quite a lot of justified criticism as a result.

Bela Talbot is the first structural case of simple mirroring being done (although her character was requested at the behest of the network, true, the manner in which they utilized her is entirely significant).  I think it’s first important, however, to talk about how Kripke crafted the show using the structure.  He talked about how in the end he wanted good Dean versus bad Sam.  This, of course, focuses the early structure of the show to align Sam with darkness and damning decisions. All of season two pushes Sam onto a dark path exploring his cursed demon blood powers while Dean tries desperately to stop this.  Season 3 introduces Bela, a narrative mirror for Dean to show what would happen to Dean if Sam wasn’t in his life.  She IS DEAN, but WITHOUT a Sam in her life.  And for her, this spells doom as she desperately tries to avoid the fate of her deal with a Crossroads Demon (a deal she made to avoid child sex abuse, a stand in comparison to Dean’s robbed childhood which the show would later revisit heavily in season 11).  The structure of the season 3 is relatively simple.  Bela was supposed to die while Dean is saved from his deal’s fate by Sam, effectively showing that while Sam is doing some dark things, that they are justified through the means to save Dean (a common moral stance Supernatural would come to depict over and over again).  This, of course, doesn’t get to happen.  The writers strike of 2007-08  forces Kripke to abandon this structure in favor of simply sending Dean to Hell.  Our first attempt at a predictive narrative structure thus fails.  It is not discarded, however, and our first successful implementation of it is in season 4.

In season 4 the writers are met with the tough task of getting Dean quickly out of Hell and so Angels are introduced.  This would prove to be a major turning point in the show’s success and its ultimate current structure some 9 seasons later. The introduction of Angels, while initially desired to be temporary was fully embrace with the introduction of Castiel as portrayed by Misha Collins.  This mythology introduction gave Kripke the perfect way to have good Dean versus bad Sam  in the form of Michael versus Lucifer, and old tell of rebellious siblings confronting one another in an ultimate fight.  Here, the show begins its ultimate structure towards this alignment, with the demon Ruby pulling Sam towards Lucifer and Castiel pulling Dean towards Michael (or, well, stopping Sam, as pulling Dean towards Michael is actually a goal of Zachariah in Season 5 instead of it being a goal of Castiel).

In season 4, all the characters (even Sam and Dean) and episodes (frequently showing the release of “seals” which bind Lucifer) are being used as functions towards a single goal, the release of Lucifer.  It was a simple and clean straight forward structure that allowed flow into a cohesive storyline, which remains the best of Supernatural’s structure and storytelling even to this day imo, It also allowed individuality (and the exploration of what it means to have humanity) to blossom within the addition of Castiel (originally only slated to be a 3 episode character), though the character could still be simplified into Dean with Sam’s bad choices.  Castiel would not start becoming his own character (instead of a character mirror or narrative concept) until much later in the series, though he would still be often regaled to simply serving the “B” plot of Dean, eventually getting a permanent “B” plot with him, thus cementing his importance in Dean’s life and within the show’s newer, complex structure.  

Season 5 saw the end of Kripke’s vision, but with one problem.  The show was getting a renewal.  We can see through season 5’s structure that Kripke intended Sam and Dean to die together in the Devil’s hole, unable to kill one another due to their love.  Against renewal and in an effort to salvage the sacrifice structure, we are instead introduced to Adam, a half brother who would instead receive Dean’s fate.  The season builds and compounds a sense of hopeless in our characters, both desperate to not play a part in Heaven’s games. Our mytharc and MOTW episodes in season 5 exist to drive this sense of compounding inevitability.  It is a structure not as clean as season 4’s but mainly because it has the same problem as season 3’s: the ending had to be changed. But meanwhile the show had another problem: “Where do you go after the Apocalypse?” It would not be a problem tackled by Kripke, but instead long time writer Sera Gamble, as Supernatural experienced its first showrunner change.  

With the departure of Kripke came the beginning of structural chaos and uncertainty.  Season 6 is driven by questions that seemingly have no answer against a plot that had just been done.  The Apocalypse was being put back on the rails and Castiel was dealing with it mostly offscreen, unlike Sam and Dean who, as leads, got to deal with it visibly in every episode in season 5.  This caused the audience to not experience the sense of urgency and desperation that Castiel is going through and it proves to be a structural weakness throughout the whole season as Sam and Dean deal with the fallout of Castiel’s righteousness in the form of Sam’s hell damage from his damaged soul in the cage and Crowley’s experiments on monsters, which is seemingly without purpose until the end of the season draws near and we finally see the importance the monsters hold.  Banished of Lucifer, the recurring addition of Crowley provides the show with a central point in which Hell things will now operate going forward.  This is the season in which Castiel begins the pattern making the mistakes of Sam.  And it is from this point that the show’s mirrored storytelling reaches new heights, most of which are predictable, unfortunately. Just as Sam and Dean release Lucifer, Cas releases the Leviathan into the world and thus we are shuttled into season 7, Apocalypse 2.0, monster edition (instead of angels/demons).  

Season 7 saw the ultimate weakness of the two lead structure, while the show headed down an already trotted path against massively failing ratings.  It is here that Gamble killed off both Bobby and Castiel while dumping a massive amount of emotional baggage onto Sam and Dean from which the show (and characters) seemed unlikely to recover from, buried in the Friday Night death slot.  Here, the season introduced a true structured  “B” plot for Dean and Cas, but it remained in the mirrored structure only, seeing as how Cas was effectively DEAD.  It is given in the form of grief and suffering, as per Gamble’s favored depiction of the show.  Not only were things hopeless, but everyone Sam and Dean cared about were dead (oh look, it’s season 13′s premise as well!).  The structures of Gamble era were driven primarily with a focus towards sorrow and suffering and while it’s true that the Leviathans (as compared to the totally delightful, but utterly senseless wanderings of season 6) were an interesting metaphor for corporate America’s greed and monstrosity, this did little to enrich and progress Sam and Dean as characters who were headed for anywhere except death.  And it is here we enter Carver era.

Replacing Gamble as showrunner was another long time writer for the show, Jeremy Carver.  Helming and writing with fresh eyes from having been away for a while, Carver era saw the dawn of a new light in the show.  It is often called a reboot of the show.  Castiel was back, Netflix produced a new influx of viewership, and the show had more or less cemented itself into the CW fold, renewed late and against all hope from grave of Friday night.  Conventions and streaming media provided a life line that gave way to a new form of structure on the show: precised mirrored storytelling in the form of a (possible, likely) three act structure.  In Carver era, (unlike its predecessors) things became driven by a repetitive thematic means and the genre of the show was shifted to something with an adventurous tone.  The Winchesters were going to close the Gates of Hell! Instead of reactive, our characters were thrust into being proactive.  This shifted the structure onto choice… and consequence.  Every detail fed into this: pop culture references, color coding within the visual framework, characters created that represented specific emotional struggles for our characters to interact with and conquer (or die through).  Season 8 is easily compared to Star Wars episode IV in terms of its place in Carver Era.  While Star Wars episode IV could function as a stand alone (seeing as the show didn’t realize the introduction of its lifeline yet), it was made to function as part of a beginning of a much longer and detailed story.  

Once again in season 8 Sam and Cas began to take on the role of pushing the mytharc along, with Sam completing the Hell trials to close the Gates and Cas breaking Heaven’s control over him to close the Gates of Heaven.  The role of Castiel (while visually is reduced from seasons 4, 5 and 6), in relation to his relationship with Dean, becomes significant.  A vast number of narrative structural mirrors are put into place to frame the relationship a certain way, and they are decidedly romantic in nature. The Dean/Cas relationship then begins to be told exclusively through interspecies romantic relationships, with a significant amount needing to break some kind of hold over a supernatural being, reflecting Naomi’s reprogramming of Castiel to kill Dean (8x11-8x17). The text and subtext of this season is further queer coded to a significant degree, evident very early on by reference to such works as Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (8x03), among many others.  Carver was taking the Dean/Cas relationship very seriously and it was a showrunning decision that would drive the storyline in structure just as much as the Dean/Sam one going forward, even after his departure.  Cas, meanwhile, is given a lot of structural baggage to explain away his absence as a regular instead of a lead. Not that he wasn’t crafted this way before, but soon a structural decision would come that tied both the Dean/Cas storyline and the Dean/Sam one together in a way that would prove inseparable. The choices made in the season 8 finale (with both Cas and Sam trying to leave Dean alone) are the consequences that would fester and bleed into the new season and the rest of Carver era.  

Consequences.  Choice. “I did what I had to…”

Under higher ratings than the show had had in YEARS, season 9 began, along with my structural meta series, The Divine Reviews, where I sought to document the show’s new structure (mostly how serious it was taking the newly active Destiel “B” plot from its former place as a grief standalone storyline).  9x01-9x03 represents a tying of the storylines for Sam/Dean and Dean/Cas in a way that makes it impossible to talk about one without the other, structurally speaking. Dean can deal with Cas leaving him, but only if Sam is alive.  And when push comes to shove, Dean will sacrifice Cas’ safety and position at his side if it means the survival of Sam.  The weight of this realization falls heavily on Dean and is the structural source of grief that saturates a season full of rape metaphors as Dean tricks Sam into not dying through the angel Gadreel’s possession of Sam.  For the first time, the show makes it uncomfortable to side with Dean (unless you like the fact that Dean will force his will on Sam to keep him alive) and Dean starts down a dark path of self hatred the likes of which the show has never delved into to such a striking degree.  This self hatred structurally manifests itself as the Mark of Cain and Dean’s decision to take it on without warning of consequence represents a significant turning point in the show’s ongoing structure.  Dean begins to carry the mytharc and the metaphor within, with significant structure weight put into the fact that Dean can’t bother to feel guilt for his actions, understandable as they are.  Dean and Cas thus begin a new romantic structure, one where lovers are torn apart by family duty (this is, perhaps, most laughably shown in 9x20 in the failed Bloodlines pilot episode that gives us heterosexual interspecies couple Violet/David who even mirror Destiel dialogue into their relationship of star crossed lovers separated by things beyond their control).  

Post midseason finale in season 9, narrative mirrors begin in earnest that take the foreshadowing for Dean to die into high gear.  These are vague and non-specific, however, with the decision to turn Dean into a demon through the Mark of Cain being made late into the season.  The death of Abaddon (and the possibility that she would simply possess him) seals Dean’s structural fate, as he is killed by what it narratively represents, the block to his character development. It is here that the show hits a structural sag with season 10 and the Mark of Cain being structurally translated into a variety of narrative woes: a disease that infects Dean’s heart, a catalyst which amplifies Dean’s already weary and repressed soul, a force from which there is no destruction and no relief.  

Season 10 on the whole represents a failure to find a solid avenue to character development in Dean.  Supernatural didn’t know how to solve it’s own created problem.  And while Dean’s death was given several avenues in season 9 from which to walk down, the same meandering does not look all together acceptable as it was before.  For the first time Crowley is woven into the structural storytelling, carrying Dean away, just as Hannah does to Cas, leaving Sam alone to solve the problem “of Dean”, who is given the structural foreboding task of avoiding Cain’s fate, which saw him kill his wife and brother, Cas and Sam respectively in our structure.  The season, rather than focusing on the underlining cause of Dean taking the Mark of Cain, focuses instead on Dean trying desperately to avoid dealing with the consequences of his actions.  This culminates in Dean beating Cas nearly to death just as Cain kills his wife.  Cas avoids such a fate, however, and begins a more passive stance in the narrative, supporting Sam, instead, who must now fill the role of Abel in our structure. By Death, Dean is ordered to kill Sam to avoid further complications from the Mark of Cain, which is revealed to be an age old lock to something ambiguously called “the Darkness”. Dean is, of course, unable to kill Sam, and kills Death instead and then we are given our final structural form of the decision to take the Mark of Cain in the form of Amara, God’s sister.  Still, we are dealing with consequences of Dean’s choices, but not the underlying cause.

At this point, the Dean/Cas storyline has been given lover/wife mirrors for going on 3 seasons now.  Cas is continuously coded as Dean’s “wife” by all structural elements within SPN’s mirrored storytelling.  Their relationship has been given much structural depiction and weight, which continues on into season 11 against the false lover, Amara.  I talk extensively about the child abuse and sex abuse mirrors involving Amara and how they relate to Dean’s stolen childhood here.  It is here, after 2 seasons of the same storyline, that the Mark of Cain Dean character developmental structure has been given its final form, but sadly, would not see its end.  

We see Dean’s helplessness towards his past in the form of Amara’s control over him.  And with Amara comes our third sibling vs sibling mirror in the form of God versus Amara (the previous being Michael versus Lucifer and Cain versus Abel), Supernatural’s go to depiction for Sam and Dean’s histories and averted futures.  The season’s structure builds towards the inevitable appearance of God to stop Amara, who has justifiable reasons to be angry as Hell.  Supernatural has, at this point, painted itself into a bad corner. There’s no bigger storyline it can go to as it is faced with the monumental task of resolving not only God and Amara, but everything that their struggle represents, Dean’s stolen life at the hands of his father.  For it’s conclusion, Supernatural would now face a different structural problem, however.  

The network would not allow them to kill God.  And while I have no absolute certainty from which to draw on here, I can only guess that either Amara was going to die also, most possibly to restore balance to the universe as Chuck’s death would cause everything to be destroyed or she was going to bring him back shortly after killing him.  We never get to know the truth of the structure as Chuck is effectively only injured, not killed.  And Amara makes the choice to heal him and forgive him instead of them possibly sharing oblivion together.  Amara then gives Dean back the thing she determines he needs most: his mother.  And it is here that Dabb era officially begins, Dabb having shadowed the running of the show at the end of the season following the mid season silent departure of Carver.  

Season 12. With a character development arc for Dean already 3 seasons in the making, Dabb is given the monumental showrunning task of “where do you go after God leaving?”  A smaller scale mytharc is given in place of the sweeping epic of Carver era.  The British Men of Letters are introduced as a way of shaping Sam into being a leader among the American hunters, readdressing the question of what Sam can do to stay in the life and find his place outside of Dean. Dean, however, continues on the structural development path of confronting the thing that prevents him from feeling he only deserves to go down swinging.  Mary is fleshed out as a person though she and Castiel continue to suffer from the show’s inability to switch to an ensemble cast, which is, at this point, a point of long regarded contention among many fans.  

Mary and Cas begin to mirror each other (as we contemplate their significance to Dean) and drive the story, each wishing to make amends and give Sam and Dean a world they feel is best without either of them asking how Sam and Dean feel about their actions. This sees Mary siding with the British Men of Letters and Cas pursuing Lucifer in an attempt to cage him once more, having let him out to deal with Amara last season in another attempt to save Dean from action (Cas’ need to die for his family because he sees himself as expendable is a plot line that’s long overdue for resolution). We see Mary being made to earn her place as family through her realizing why Cas already has.  It is the most passive Sam and Dean have ever been in the structure, with everything mostly driven by Mary and Cas along with the overall theme of what it means to truly love and sacrifice to earn the label of “family”. For this, Cas is given a structural death sentence.  And Supernatural delivers, painfully.  A portal to another world is opened up courtesy of Jack, the nephilim of Lucifer and it is here that Dabb era ultimately takes us: a new world of possibilities.   The same can not, however, be said of the show’s narrative structure, which seems to be on a one way road and has been for a long, albeit slow, time.  

Dean has forgiven Mary for setting him on the path to have a robbed childhood, effectively wrapping up the long drawn out Mark of Cain storyline.  Forgiveness. Love. Family. New beginnings. These are the themes that run through Dabb era. Dean is finally given everything and then within the space of one episode it has been taken away.  The nephilim introduces the show to once again ask the age old question: “nature or nuture?”, as Sam and Dean are forced to deal with an unprecedented force thrust upon them in their moments of grief.  Like Carver before him, Dabb era looks to be using a three act structure, with Carver’s final act serving also as Dabb’s beginning.  This would place season 13 quickly through the realms of Star Wars V-VI.  Things are bleak, hope has quickly been lost, the lover has been taken and the family has been torn apart.  A dark empire looms.  And it is here that Dabb era continues.

Season 13 functions structurally as a reworking of season 12, with much the same values as Dabb’s first season, but with Sam and Dean’s desires driving the structure instead of Cas and Mary’s. A course of hope is set, one where the Winchesters can finally find a way to try and live a life that actually includes LIVING while hunting, all the while trying to hang it up for good, but realizing this may simply be an unattainable dream.

Dabb era has firmly made its bed as “Family Don’t End in Blood” and has laid in it. Mirrors for Dean and Cas continue to be a familial/romantic blend, reflective of how Dean and Cas’ confusion and fear over addressing the unquantifiable love between one another continues to bleed into the entire narrative, the show continuing to use missions as a buffer to having the characters finally have a “feelings” talk to one another. It is a conversation they both continue to fear: when Dean stops lumping Sam into his feelings, and Cas stops deflecting to a more pressing mission as a means to avoid the fear of heartache that comes with Dean simply calling him “family” or “brother” one more time. NEED over WANT.

Sam’s development into leader, however, is put onto the back burner in favor of the season’s elaborate structural examination of trauma. Sam can no longer do anything as long as Lucifer continues to linger. Like with season 12, season 13 gives the Winchesters back everything, then threatens to take it all away again. Mary’s desire to help the AU world over returning home hits the Winchesters very hard. The mission to protect people is given full focus to Sam. If Sam wants a relationship with his mom, then helping reshape the life of the hunters living in the hunting world is how he does that. This is essential. And while season 14 will drive this idea, the Mary/Sam angle is something temporarily set aside.

Trauma (from hunting, from Mary, from John, from Heaven and angels), building a family through bonds, and hope for the future all culminate as the thematic lifeblood that runs through Dabb era. I discuss season 13 further at length here.  Like the two seasons before it, the theme of trauma and how to move forward from it continues into season 14 with Michael structurally translating as the trauma of bad parenting/leading upon Dean Winchester specifically. Season 13 and season 14, in many ways, will (seemingly) function as two sides to the same coin, a narrative structured to examine how the trauma of the past informs (and stagnates) the fear and hope of the future. I’ve called season 14 an accordion arc, and it is, but it’s also one that is far more natural than season 10 due to more careful planning. Seasons 13 and 14 within Dabb era function and do the same as seasons 9 and 10 within Carver era: carrying the driving conflict/mytharc (the MOC for Carver era, Michael for Dabb era) across two seasons, but to Dabb’s credit over Carver, Dabb seems to have planned for it a lot better ahead of time.

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This post was originally crafted here.  It was requested under a READ MORE so I reworked it into a single new post as presented above.  It will be updated when season 14 is complete.

#narrative structure #supernatural meta #please see all previous tags involving original post

[orionsangel86]

Episode Review - 14x01 - Want, Everything, Sunshine, and Beyonce

Hellatus is over everyone! Put away the crack memes and shit posts and bring out your meta caps because we are back in business! Oh boy are we back in business! 

Right before @tinkdw came over to watch the premier with me, we discussed our expectations and both agreed that whilst our expectations were pretty much in our boots, we would consider the episode a success if it was even remotely meta. We wanted to be able to see clearly constructed themes both as a continuation of what had come previously and as a foundation for a strong season going forward. We were both hoping that at least from a meta perspective, that the episode would leave us happy and thirsting for more.

Dabb did not disappoint us.

It was such a strong episode meta-wise. There is a lot to pick apart that is ripe for discussion and I seriously hope that Dabb will keep a close eye on the other writers to ensure that these themes continue throughout the season. Plot-wise it was a weaker episode, but then again Dabb has always focused on the character emotional arcs more than the actual plot points in recent years, and I am grateful for that. The second half of season 13 felt stagnant to me simply because there was little to no character development and from a meta perspective it was also extremely weak. I went into this hellatus feeling negative about the show simply because I hadn’t actually enjoyed an episode properly since 13x12. However, the season 14 opener was most definitely enough to quench my thirst and get me excited for the coming season. Fingers crossed it goes from strength to strength.

Long review under the cut

Michael!Dean - What Do You Want

Straight in after the introductory Nyoooom of Baby (driven by a grim looking Sam and a pretty impressive swap from title music to diegetic music), we are introduced to the angel of the hour. 

8 Things about Michael:

1. I am not sure how I feel about Jensen’s performance right now. He is playing Michael extremely straight and whilst I can see how this cold, calm portrayal can come across quite terrifying, it’s not a carry over from Christian Key’s performance. I don’t want to be too critical, because we only saw him in a few scenes so far, but when I compare it to how Tahmoh portrayed Gadreel alongside Jared, and the way Misha pretty much nailed Mark P’s performance (and greatly improved it), I guess I’m still waiting for Jensen to WOW me in the role. The one thing I will say is that he did terrify me and managed to come across creepy when acting alongside his own WIFE. So he's doing something right I'll give him that. When Jensen wants to have chemistry with someone, he does.

2. I like the fact that Michael’s goal right now seems to be to educate himself on our world. He’s not running around causing terror and mayhem like Lucifer, he’s learning how best to go about “improving” the world. He also appears to be inspiring people with his words: “Holy men, leaders, killers” and we have seen the effect he had already on Kip the Demon - who was inspired to run for King of Hell until Sam Fucking Winchester ruined that plan. I wonder if we will be seeing the fallout of Michael’s specific type of inspiration throughout the season.

3. “What do you want?” Obviously this question is an important one. It was repeated like six times throughout the episode, though never to the main characters. It looks like this is going to be the theme of the season and as far as TFW’s personal journey’s go, this is now the question we are asking them and the question being explored. What does Sam want? Or Cas? Or Dean? This has an endgame flavour to it that has me extremely excited. 

4.Michael’s own personal want of “A better world” is a follow on in a way of many of the villains that have come before him. For seasons now we have been exploring this concept of improving the world for the better. We had it first in season 8 when the brothers had the goal to do the trials to make a world without demons, in season 11 Amara’s vision was to destroy so she could reshape the world to her own blueprints that she saw as better than Chuck’s. Dabb era has been even more obvious, first with the goal of the British Men of Letters being “a world without monsters” which was shared by Mary wanting a better world for her boys, and then in season 13 Jack’s arrival floated the idea of “paradise world” to Castiel. I don’t think Michael is gonna fair any better than any of these others, and wonder exactly where all these escalated versions of “a better world” will end up. It's all exploring the notion that nothing is black and white, but in fact a grey area.

5. I already discussed Michael and Sister Jo here. Cas mirrors... Cas mirrors everywhere... I also side eye the "pretty things" line because it reaks of Dean and his whole sublimation thing. In that sense it seems Dabb is making Jo a mirror for both our boys. I'll be keeping a close eye on her from now on.

6. ”Why would he say yes to you?” “Love”. OH DEAN. Just, Dean wasn’t in this episode but my god did we feel his presence RIGHT HERE. And to think there are people out there that still think this is a macho mans show about macho manly men. I’ve never known another character with more heart than Dean Winchester. This show is about LOVE above all things. I wish people would stop trying to deny that fact.

7. Radioactive Pigeon:

Look I’m not trying to be critical okay it’s very pretty and this is the FIRST time they have attempted showing an angels true form and that is amazeballs and all, but still. He has little pigeon wings and a bent halo. Pfft.

8. The Purity of Vampires. I actually love this. I think it comes across a bit silly on the surface, but the whole idea of monsters being pure is a massive callback to purgatory and season 8 and anything that calls back to season 8 makes me happy. 

Sam Fucking Winchester

Excuse me while I scream HELL YES. I have been waiting for Sam to take on the leadership role for AGES. Honestly this was always my dream endgame for Sam. To organise and lead the hunting community. There’s your better world guys. It was something that the writers flirted with in late season 12, but at the time Sam only took on the position with Dean’s approval and encouragement to go ahead. Sam has always stepped back and let Dean take the lead throughout the show as the big brother and parental figure. I think this was always a role he was destined to fill and something that has been building in the subtext for a long time (much the same way as the toxic codependency has been shown to hold Sam back.) 

What’s of interest here is what will happen when Dean comes back and is fighting fit. Will Sam relinquish his leadership position to Dean? Or fight for it? Will this cause conflict? I read this amazing meta on this which turned into an epic discussion and I highly recommend reading it. My HEART.

Sam’s state in the episode is one of constant motion. He cannot stop for a second, always being pulled from one thing to another. He doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t get to change out of his hideous blue and orange shirt (which is officially now my favourite Sam shirt), he doesn’t even get to finish his soup. I know Jared said that Sam had a ‘grief beard’ but Tink and I are adamant that the beard is simply due to the fact that Sam doesn’t get the time to shave. He has taken so much weight on his shoulders and in amongst that has to deal with horribly traumatic things such as face the face of his abuser and actually be a healer to him. Sam doesn't get a moment to himself and spends all his time concerned about others. It's very noble of him, but he's going through the motions.

Sam is the contrast here to both Cas and Dean, who are physically and mentally stuck in their awful situations. Sam is also stuck in a way, stuck with no time to actually contemplate the situation he has got himself in. Stuck without a moment to breath, or to grieve his brother. Stuck holding the weight of the world on his shoulders as every other single character looks to him for support, help and guidance. Sam is the motherfucking Beyonce of the episode, that is for certain.

He is also calling the shots on hell now...

(x)

... I find it amusing that back in the early days Sam's destiny was to be the boy king of hell, and it's almost like he's fulfilled that destiny, not by being king, but by being gatekeeper and in a position powerful enough to scare the demons into submission. This is probably what Crowley intended. Sam probably owns the moon now.

About Nick - Well, first of all, I TOLD YOU SO. I did say that I could tell the guy from the back of his head and I was damn right about that. Learn to trust me guys I am occasionally good at this stuff. Okay, now that that is out of my system, let’s talk about this. Round of applause for Jared in this scene. Because he takes Sam’s hell trauma extremely seriously and made sure that every nuance, every twitch, was picked up by those camera’s. I loved that. Potentially Nick could be a good way to help Sam heal in the coming season, as Sam has finally freed himself from Lucifer’s grasp. Is it fair that he should have to look after the face that tormented him for years? No. Not at all, but could it prove somewhat cathartic in the end? Maybe. 

At the end of the day, Dabb must have considered Nick to have a purpose beyond “I want to give Bucklemming something to play with so they don’t fuck up my actual story” and “We need to keep stroking Mark P’s ego for some stupid reason”. Because otherwise I am really worried about how limited his power must be, and refuse to entertain the thought that he was overthrown by Singer and his horrid wife. I can see the potential in Nick being a dark mirror for Dean following his freedom from Michael’s possession. How Nick deals with the post possession trauma could be an indicator to how Dean is really coping even when he buries it.

At the same time, both Sam and Cas have been possessed by Lucifer, and therefore have all the experience between them to help Dean’s recovery without needing Nick to get involved. So I dunno guys. I’m trying to see the positive in something I otherwise despise. 

Anyway I thought Jared was fucking superb in that scene and pretty much the whole episode and want to give him a round of applause because it is rare that he truly gets to shine on his own without Jensen by his side.

Now all we need is for Sam to get some sleep. How he is still functioning by the episodes end I will never understand.

Castiel Everything Winchester

(x)

Look at him. So defiant and done. You can almost imagine that fire behind him burning in his eyes as well. He’s such a dom.

Several things about Cas in 14x01:

1. He is 100% done with every demon on the planet and doesn’t give a fuck. Honestly though. The way he says “Oh God” when Kip walks in. The way he rolls his eyes. I wonder if he had Dean’s voice in his head saying “You know who wears sunglasses indoors Cas? Douchebags.” 

2. He is making desperate choices in order to save Dean, which is certainly typical for him. The fact that he spends the entire episode stuck in a chair is a fantastic metaphor for his whole feelings on the situation, a metaphor then reinforced through a mirror at the end when he speaks with Jack (we never get anything explicit with Cas do we?). The fact that Cas can’t save Dean right now is weighing on him, but he is determined to do whatever it takes. The conversation he has with Sam at the end is a brilliantly short but important moment:

“I should never have gone to those demons”

“Cas no I don’t blame you. honestly I wish I had thought of it first. If it meant finding Dean I’d work with.. I’d do anything.”

The takeaway here is that actions speak louder than words. Sam HAS been distracted being leader of the hunters and having to face his own nightmares thanks to Nick, but Cas has literally been doing anything he can with a soul focus on saving Dean. 

It's an intimate moment between them. In a bunker now bustling with life and movement this is the only time in the episode that it really seems still. The library has always been Sam's private space, where he feels most at home - like the kitchen is for Dean. But here he and Cas sit as equals together weighed down by their shared grief. It's the soft moments like this that I love the most about this show. They are both willing to do anything they can, but the difference is that whilst Sam is being pulled in lots of different directions, Cas’s sole focus is Dean. Note that heaven wasn’t mentioned once. It hasn’t even crossed his mind.

3. Everyone Knows, but Cas doesn’t give a shit. 

“How is it you lost Dean, I thought you guys were joined at the... well you know, everything.”

It is an extremely explicit nod to Destiel. It is also the first time a line like this has made it into an episode since season 7 I think. The difference now being that we’ve had years of steady subtext and narrative building on the love story, hence the line has a different weight to those previously. It was very carefully written, careful not to imply that Cas was joined to BOTH Winchesters as the line was specifically about Dean. It was written by the showrunner, who would have known the significance of such a line, it encourages the view that all of heaven and hell have made their own assumptions about Dean and Cas’s relationship, and in case anyone wants to argue that the missing word was “hip” like the saying goes, the gesture and nod by Kip goes to prove otherwise. In other words, there is no platonic interpretation. Which is delightful.

Cas’s completely stoic silence is even more delightful. God I love him.

4. He can’t see demons true faces anymore. Like everyone else, Cas not realising those people were demons really threw me for a moment. Tink and I both agreed that the scene should have had Kip snap his fingers and have the demons smoke in and possess all those people instead - still catching Cas off guard but not making it seem like he is just super unobservant. I personally feel like this was just an error Dabb made. I have no desire to try to meta explain that one and I accept it as the error it is. I do like that it took an entire room of demons and 4 sets of enochian hand cuffs to overpower him though...The fact that he had to sit there and watch his family be beaten and almost killed around him whilst he was helpless again, is an excellent parallel to Dean’s current situation and what he will most likely have to face in the coming episodes, and also a reflection of Cas’s mental state (as mentioned above), Coming out of this episode it seems like this will be another season where Cas and Dean mirror each other and walk similar paths in terms of growth and development - if only those paths would meet with a kiss!

5. He’s the bait. Tink found this line hilarious straight away, where as I had to blink and ask why because I obviously took offence. But once we started discussing it and realised the quadruple entendre it is I found myself applauding Dabb on his genius. Cas IS used as bait, by the SPN PR people. Because he’s Mister Popularity. He’s also the character who causes the most conflict in fandom, with those who love him so much they are bitter and mean and those who simply hate him often complaining about the exact same things but in different ways - leaving the regular fans stuck in the middle (Tink explained this to me with delight - how both anti’s and bitter!cas girls alike will latch onto that line for completely different reasons). He’s also potentially a queerbait depending on how you look at it. But anyway. Cas’s epic eye rolls in this episode were almost enough to rival Sam’s bitchfaces. I am impressed.

6. He takes no pleasure for himself. I am forever going to obsess over Cas’s relationship with human food and drink:

“Coffee has no effect on me.”

“Me either, not anymore. But its like with saltwater taffee or infants, you know I just like the taste”

Although we can argue his refusal is out of stubbornness to not give the demon the satisfaction, even when accepting drinks from the Winchesters he doesn’t usually bother, or will stick with water. Even if he is seen ordering coffee it is usually only to avoid looking suspicious in diners. We know Cas enjoys some food and drink, but Cas rarely allows himself the pleasure. Even in 13x14 when Dean offered him a beer, it remained unopened. A symbolic metaphor for Cas refraining from indulging in other pleasures? This is why I am so so desperate for Michael to ask Cas what it is HE wants. Lucifer stated that Cas was a “pleasureless dullard” and I want to see this theme continue. Cas uses his grace as an excuse not to indulge and I consider this linked to meta about the “sacred oath” of heaven and Cas being duty bound and numbed by his grace. But these are all elements for a bigger meta at another time and the moment in this episode is just another snippet of that.

7. He looks awesome framed in fire. I just really liked the set up of Motown Meats as the new hang out for hell, with its fire pit and orange glowy bar. There is a lot of general symbolism there but I enjoyed the flames framed behind Cas in every shot he was in. Because even though he was mostly stuck in this episode, that fire raging inside him didn’t burn out once. He WILL save Dean. Just as he promised to Jack at the end, even if he get’s battered, beaten and bruised, his determined stubborness to save his husband will win eventually. Cas is no longer the broken thing of seasons 11/12. He well and truly rose like a phoenix in season 13 and now it’s showing through, as it’s a mission fueled by his own passion and love.

Jack Winchester (AKA my nougat son)

Poor Jack, like his father he hasn't had it easy in 14x01. He is struggling with his humanity now, his usefulness, in such a clear mirror to Cas that it kinda hits you in the face. He is desperately seeking guidance from those around him. First in the form of AU Bobby who has clearly bonded with Jack following their experiences together in apocalypse world.

It is great to finally see the Bunker gym! A room we all have ingrained in our fandom hive mind thanks to a 100 destiel fanfics. We all know what's gone on in there. >.>

Throughout the episode, Jack seeks out guidance first with Bobby, which goes badly, then with Sam, which is interrupted, and finally with Cas, which is when he finally gets told what he needs to hear. I am really happy that whilst Jack has so many father figures now, it is Cas who truly holds that torch and is able at least somewhat give Jack what he needs near the episodes end. If only he had damn well given his son a hug!

I loved the conversation so much that I transcripted it here:

JACK: I’m fine.

CAS: You did well

JACK: All I did was get punched. In the face

CAS: To be fair we all got punched in the face

JACK: That’s not - Before when I had my powers I could have done something

CAS: Jack you don’t have your powers, and your grace should regenerate in time, but until then..

JACK: I’m useless. I cant kill demons I cant find Dean and Michael is in our world and I cant stop him.

I can’t do anything. I don’t have anything.

CAS: Oh Jack. That’s just not true. You’ve got me. You have all of us. You have your family.

And we are going to find dean and we are going to beat Michael and we are going to do it together. Because that’s what we do.

This whole conversation was PERFECT. Every line chosen so specifically and weighted with meaning. Urgh Dabb I fucking love you for this.

Jack starts with “I’m fine” which Cas knows by now means you are not fine but he has also learned to recognise that sometimes it doesn’t mean “leave me alone” as Jack was crying out for guidance and support here. 

The mirrored “got punched in the face” calls to attention the fact that Jack is a reflection of Cas himself here and everything he has felt both now and in the past.

Jack’s complaint about being useless without his powers is a fear Cas has carried with him since his fall in season 9. It’s something that still weighs on him and whilst Cas now knows his place by the Winchester’s side, knows that they are a family and that he is not just a hammer, I think that fear of losing his power and being cast out is still well and truly weighing him down. It will be cathartic for Cas to see the family accept Jack as one of their own even if he is “useless” and human. 

Cas’s “That’s just not true” when Jack says he is useless - his voice breaks and you KNOW Cas has had those exact same thoughts.

“you’ve got me, you’ve got all of us. You have your family” compared to You’re my family, I love you, I love all of you” compared to “We're family. We need you. I need you.” The difference is there is no ambiguity in the word ME. Dabb turned it around, but had Cas clear it up. It’s the same line every time. The only difference is the placement of each individual statement. If this isn’t yet another clear example that the “I love you” was specifically directed at Dean I don’t know what is. THIS IS A CONTINUING PATTERN PEOPLE.

The determined promise to save Dean at the end, right after he specifies the singular and plural because obviously Dean was on Cas’s mind at that point - Mister I Don’t Get Words Wrong over here knows exactly what he means.

I love this whole conversation, but as I said above, it drums home the fact that whilst the Winchesters and others may be sources of guidance and support for Jack, he only has one true father, and I think Dabb wanted to make that clear in this episode. Remember:

Fingers crossed for more father/son bonding between these two in future episodes.

Mary and Bobby

(x)

Baring in mind I was expecting 1 small Destiel moment in the episode in the form of a line from a demon. You have NO IDEA how happy this moment between Mary and Bobby made me. If anyone saw that inktober pic I drew for premier day of me and Tink gasping in shock at the screen, it was for THIS moment. My face lit up in delight.

I said at the start of this long review that Dabb picked his moments well. With every second counting from a meta perspective. This was one of those.

Tell me, anyone, when watching that moment, would you deny that there was something between Bobby and Mary? As homework I'd like you all to play this scene to your heteronormative friends and family, or even be brave and ask a bibro. Would ANYONE deny that it was intended to be romantic?! I highly doubt it.

And yet there was nothing textually explicitly romantic about it. There was NOTHING in this scene that hasn’t been filmed a thousand times between Dean and Cas. The fact that Dabb chose to write this extremely small seemingly unimportant moment, in the kitchen, and for Bobby to use THOSE EXACT WORDS. As I have mentioned several times already, Dabb doesn’t fuck around when using well known moments from past canon in order to reinforce the importance of a thing. Dabb LOVES parallels. He wrote Bloodlines after all. He also knows the fandom hive mind and the things we pick up on and latch on to. This was a very smart calculated decision to include this in the episode and I am LIVING that he did it. GIVE ME ALL THE BOBBY x MARY/ DESTIEL PARALLELS. 

...

I actually really liked Mary in this episode. There is so much discourse in fandom about her and whilst I find Sam Smith pretty cold and wooden, I have never understood the utter hatred of Mary as a character. Hence why I praise Dabb’s genius at this moment:

(x)

Because this line literally sums up her entire arc since her return. Tink and I paused the episode and basically flailed at each other because this is EXACTLY what Mary has been trying to do. She was in HEAVEN, with her BABIES and suddenly she is back on earth with two grown men who are strangers to her, telling her they are hunters and have suffered a life of HORRORS without her. So she ran. Hell, I would have ran too. She shoved herself into hunting because all she could think about was trying to make things GOOD for her boys. Trying to FIX her mistakes the only way she knew how: by HUNTING. She was drowning in the bad. So she found focus in trying to make things good. Like in this episode, she reassures Sam so much that he snaps at her. He doesn’t want to be reassured, and that’s fine. But my god this felt like the first time Mary has truly had a voice. I really weren’t kidding when I said that Dabb made sure every word counted.

OTHER THINGS

I am unsure how I feel about the title card:

Tink called it. I think it looks a bit odd, a bit too clean. I like the title cards to be grim and dark. Black angel wings though! And hey, at least the fiery halos in the title cards are perfectly spherical... so we know they CAN do it right...

*side eyes SFX team*

Kip as a wannabe Crowley was kinda fun for a one off episode but I am glad that they are stressing now that wannabe Crowley’s get killed. The last one we had was Bart in 13x08 who was very much the same flirtatious queer coded demon. I’m fed up with the villainous queer coding by now. It’s been done too often. Give me another Demon like Alastair or Ramiel or none at all.

“Asmodeus Kentucky Fried” DID ANYONE LIKE ASMODEUS OTHER THAN BUCKLEMMING? This made me LOL.

The fight scene at the end was really weird and overly long. I dunno why they decided on so many random slow mo and wooosh shots. the whole Mary slow mo throwing the blade at Sam was cringy. I wish they’d stop being experimental and stick with what they know! You think they’d learn after 13x23!

Maggie was a bit annoying. Why bring her along if she can’t fight? Also the random cuts to her reaction after Jack was angsty had me reeling. simply because in het couples that’s a brewing romance and that is a massive NOPE from me. I like her as an individual character, I DO NOT like her as a love interest to a 1 year old, and I certainly wouldn’t like some pining story for her where she falls for an unavailable guy. It’s not fair on her character. The one thing I did like was the “pointy end” comment. It reminded me of Charlie for some reason.

The throw away line about Ketch being in London looking for the golden egg Lucifer/president extractor. Nice closing of a plot hole there Dabb.

I liked the Jesus weapon expert hunter dude. He seemed quirky. Dead man’s blood bullets are an excellent idea. 

DETROIT. Why does everything always happen in Detroit? I swear one day they are gonna reveal that Detroit is like a central universal power hub where the walls between the dimensions are thinnest or something. I could go on about this but I am sure a better meta writer elsewhere already has and this is waaay too long so I’m leaving this here.

If you got this far. Kudos and thank you for sticking around to read my thoughts. Feel free to ask me anything about any of the above. If I could hand out cookies through the internet I totally would right now.

Basically I enjoyed the episode. I have since re-watched it a dozen times and it is really the meta of it all that makes me love it. The story IS weak, and there ARE moments that are a bit odd, or infuriating depending on the way you look at it, but the heart of the episode was classic Dabb. All character driven and full of meaning. I am extremely well fed after this meta feast, perhaps even enough to get me through the horror show that will be Bucklemming’s 14x02. 

So long as Cas continues to look like a sexy beast I’m sure I’ll get through it.

I’ll just leave this here:

God he’s such a dom. :P

#supernatural #spn meta #castiel #destiel #michael!dean #sam winchester #dean winchester #mary winchester #jack the nephilim #nougat winchester #episode review #14x01 #spn spoilers #season 14 #stranger in a strange land #andrew dabb #god bless andrew dabb #my review #my meta #my thoughts #mirrors and parallels #destiel dreaming #season themes #season what do we want 14

[theheartchoice]

Change 

dean/cas  |  teen  |  2.7k  |  coda for 12.12  |  sam pov  |  ao3 

Wally burned like St. Patrick’s Day. Something in that barnyard gasoline colored the flametips shamrock-green.

“He would’ve loved that,” Mary remarked from beside the pyre. “His mother was Irish. His family get together for a big thing, every year..”

She was gazing into the flames, lost to them, adrift in some private reverie. 

Sam, tall and broad and officially two people in stature, stood with an arm loose around his mother, his other hand shoved deep in his jacket pocket to stave off the nightime winter chill. His eyes flitted to Dean, who was offering similar support to Cas.

Though his brother’s hold was more secure around the wounded Angel, pulling him in close to his side. And both Dean’s hands were put to use: one on the forearm nudging his torso, the other wrapped around, rubbing not untenderly over the bunched and ruined fabric of Castiel’s trenchcoat.

Dean leaned aside Castiel’s ear, murmuring something which was lost to Sam in the crackle of elm and sizzle of maple.

Sparks spit at the shadows from the brush skirting the platform as the structure engulfed itself—a blaze of green and orange, huffing out thick black smoke. The heat swayed on the winter breeze. Flames licked higher and higher into the starless sky, consuming and reaching beyond their grasp as they waved their goodbye.

Little else was said as their friend burned. Not that Wally was really a friend—more an aquaintance. But he was a good guy, and a decent hunter. One who had gotten caught up in the dime-a-dozen demon play the Winchesters had grown accustom to, but which they tended to forget was still so alien to other hunters.

Wally had agreed to help in order to learn, rather than just cut tail and run. And for that, he was brave.

They parted ways in the small hours, Mary saying she would pay a visit to Wally’s mother in the morning. Dean stole the driver’s seat of Castiel’s old Ford ute after he and Sam helped him into the passenger side.

Dean entrusted his little brother with the keys to the Impala, snarking through his exhaustion that if he didn’t treat her with the respect she deserved there would be hell to pay.

Sam, in his good graces, stifled a smile with a yawn and took the threat in his stride, remarking inwardly that he knew damn well how much that car meant to Dean—to both of them—and how anything that could take Dean (willingly) away from his Baby was something else worth respecting—something significant, something special.

Their family caravan rolled out of the chalky drive, pyre spent and demon bodies disappeared (assumedly) by Crowley. With sunrise a few hours away, and having been beaten and bloodied and built their own Burning Man, Dean had called it: some much needed shut-eye at the motor inn before attempting the long road back to Lebanon.

It didn’t escape Sam’s attention how worried his brother was about their best friend. From acting as a human crutch in the ten steps from carpark to motel room, and again across the few feet of carpet to the bed, to how he insisted Cas let him burn those ragged clothes as he undressed him—and then re-dressed him—in Dean’s own sleepwear. 

But not before dabbing a warm, damp washcloth over Castiel’s grimy skin, his temple and shoulders and stomach—those previously cracked and blackened abdominal muscles, which were presently taught, a healthy bronze hue, and void of any telltale scarring.

Dean also didn’t take no for an answer over the sleeping arrangement: he settled Cas into his bed with the intention of bunking on the couch. No biggie. Not that he would get a whole lot of sleep.

Sam suspected the events of the evening would weigh on his mind, and that even if he wanted to, even if he had a bed of his own, Dean’s conscience wouldn’t let him sleep. He’d be glancing over at Cas every five minutes to check he was still breathing, still there.

  Sam was right.

He was right about most things when it came to his brother and his best friend—that is, the unspoken thing the two of them shared. 

The very special, very powerful, utterly distracting, all-consuming, heart-felt, soul-deep thing. The thing that had prompted Castiel to speak certain weighty words back in that barn with his dying breath. The thing which, now, had Dean lying awake in the dark staring intermittently over at his sleeping Angel.

It wasn’t uncommon for Sam to rouse from sleep after a particularly gruelling hunt, one in which the loss outweighed the win. But it wasn’t usual for him to lose sleep over a big win like this.

Sure, they lost someone. But they also saved someone—or, he was saved—someone close to both him and his brother. On top of that, words were spoken which had been, in Sam’s opinion, a long time coming. And Castiel couldn’t take them back any more than he could raise Wally from the dead, no matter how much Dean may have wanted him to.

Not that they were horrible words. They were confronting.

Sam’s older brother was emotionally stunted, afterall. And dealing with complex, intense, intimate, one-on-one feelings—moreover for a guy, his best friend, and a freakin’ Angel of the Lord—was not something he was likely prepared to deal with.

Sam sympathised with that.

He padded over to the armchair adjacent to his brother, who was now pointedly staring at the ceiling, the wall, the loose thread on his sleeve..

“..How’s he doin’?” Sam spoke softly, sinking into the old cushioned seat.

“What..?”

Despite the lack of lighting, Sam gave his best C’mon-Dean-Really? face, and the shadows seemed to convey it, for his brother sighed and fidgted, his feet planting on the sofa and knees rising high. His form was a sihlouette vaguely outlined by the pinkish neon glow of the motel sign through the window.

“He’s sleeping. Angels, aren’t spose to sleep.”

“You’re the one who insisted he get some rest,” Sam mumbled around a yawn.

“Yeah, well.. least he’s still breathin’.”

Thankfully. Because even though it was something Dean not only deserved but needed to hear, Castiel’s confession probably would have worsened Dean’s grief had he not survived. Because now it was out in the open, it was real. And Dean would have lost his final chance to speak his heart, to tell Cas how he felt in return—that he felt the same, Sam suspected.

Hell.. he knew.

“So..” he tiptoed toward the elephant in the room, “You wanna talk about it?”

Sam’s voice was quiet and measured, though he half-expected Dean to spike the volume as he snapped in frustration of unshared, unbroached feelings. But his big brother did manage to meet him halfway and surprise him, from time to time.

Sam could see a head shaking wearily in the hazy contrast of shadows and light.

“You noticed too, huh?”

He gave a soft chuckle. “I’m neither blind nor deaf, Dean. ‘Course I noticed.”

“Yeah..”

He seemed to be contemlplating something, perhaps playing the moment back in his mind: trying to discern exactly what he was feeling when those words left Castiel’s mouth; when he looked directly at Dean; when Dean couldn’t meet his eye..

“..Love and.. Love, right?”

Sam smiled, “Right,” and he let it sound in his voice.

Dean settled back into thought, arms folded behind his head, eyes drifting over the static patterns cast on the ceiling from outside. Sam left him to it, feeling the call of nature before he could catch another hour of sleep before the half day of driving ahead of them.

Five minutes later Sam emerged, flicking off the bathroom light and pulling the door half closed. behind him.

In those few seconds of illumination, he noticed the second remarkable thing this night: Dean was sat beside Cas on the edge of the bed, hand curled gently over the sleeping Angel’s.

He didn’t say a word, and Dean didn’t flinch from his position as Sam padded back over to his bed and slipped between the covers.

However much Dean would grumble over it, Sam would describe it as a ‘loving moment’. One filled with care and cherisment, the kind of moments he and Castiel often shared through looks alone, and not often enough through physical contact, bold or otherwise.

The image lured a warm, happy feeling into Sam’s chest as he drifted swiftly back to sleep. 

Fifty six minutes later he woke to his alarm vibrating under his pillow.

It was after sunrise, though still very much still morning. Better they get on the road as soon as possible and leave this place behind, bad memories and all. Or so was decided last night as exhaustion threatened to claim them before they piled into their vehicles and drove away from Wally, from the barn, from Ramiel and a scorched ring of holy fire, from an entourage of dead demons and the memory of an almost-dead Castiel.

Dean was back on the couch, his aging hunter’s body failing to bend in a way that would allow for comfortable sleep. Sam knew he would be tired either way, but he had a sneaking suspicion Dean had spent most of the past Fifty six minutes perched on a mattress, too awake to sleep or fighting off the need to sleep so as to watch over his Angel, just as he had watched over Dean so many times over the years.

It was Dean’s turn to protect him through slumber, and marvel at his friend at rest, at peace, dreaming, healing.

With Castiel sleeping soundly and his brother most likely having just slipped into unconsciousness, Sam pulled on his jeans, boots and jacket and snuck out of their room with two goals in mind: coffee and breakfast.

The morning was grey and damp and the air was still holding that last chill of winter. Hot coffee and a hot breakfast would hopefully lessen the grievance of waking, and soften any grumpiness from the others when he returned.

And it did.

But in Dean’s case it seemed less the magic of double-spiced breakfast burritoes and triple-strength coffee that did away with his morning crotchetiness, and more the simple presence of his best friend, alive and well.

Dean still looked to be dreaming: all moony-eyed staring at a sleep-softened Cas, hair mussed and eyes shining that peaceful pastel blue, lips easing up into a smile as his concentration flitted between the hunter and his barely-touched food.

The colour had returned to his cheeks and, Angel or not, Castiel was enjoying his own breakfast, along with the close company of Dean, obviously, who had yet to allow more than a few feet to separate them since waking and helping Cas out of bed, across the carpet, and guiding him down into one of the chairs circling the little kitchen table.

It was déjà vu. 

Sam felt an odd, wonderful, rare little peace that grew to settle in the air like a fresh new atmosphere. The coming of Spring and the promise of new life, of rebirth and many beautiful things.

He ate quietly, enjoying their win. He smiled at Dean smiling at Cas who smiled right back at him—gladness and fondness and shyness and coy little secrets that weren’t so secret anymore. Or ever.

When all seemed to be unsaid and done, the three of them trading glances and knowing smiles, Sam took the reigns of driver, keys in hand, as Dean ushered them out the door, chasing after his brother.

“Sammy, no. C’mon—“

“—You need sleep, Dean—real sleep.” He obviously wanted to quash that with some adlib remark about Sam’s face or hair or whatever, but he didn’t, because he wanted sleep. “What kind of brother would I be if I let you drive and risk you falling asleep behind the wheel.”

“Wh—? You think I’d knowingly endanger my Baby?!”

“Which one?”

Sam didn’t bother trying to hide his smirk. Instead, he let it bloom into a grin as Dean shifted into cranky-mode and side-swiped him with his bag enroute to the car, muttering some warning about respect and carefulness and.. yeah, Sam’s hair.

He kind of wished Dean had joined Castiel in the backseat, the mental image urging a new smile every time his thoughts wandered: the two of them, slumped beside each other, head on shoulder, cheek on hair, hands comfortably twined between them, on display for any and all to see..

But Dean wasn’t the clingy, romantic type—at least not when others were looking. Dean was content to let Cas curl up in the backseat—until Cas forced him in there himself.

Because Dean may have forgotten about the considerable strength of his Angelic best friend, even when below 100%.

The look on Dean’s face was priceless as he straightened his jacket, Cas slipping in beside him.

His Angel was doing much better, and the tables had once again turned on who was looking after who.

Castiel and Sam traded smirks in the rearview mirror as the engine roared to life, Dean muttering something about betrayal and lousy family and waffles.

He was edging into non-coherance, and by the time they pulled onto the interstate he was stretched out and dozing along the leather seat, spare jacket bundled under his head for a pillow.

There was space between the two of them, both Dean and Castiel gravitating towards the window and armrest along the door. Perhaps there was too much space to casually initiate contact.

Rain pattered down, hazing the road ahead. It was a peaceful, scenic drive. Mountains turned to forest which eventually to famland. Dean’s gentle snores were a comfort, as was their known destination: Kansas. The bunker. Home.

They weren’t together nearly enough, and if recent events meant—on top of other things—that Cas would be with them, living and hunting (and other things) together, then maybe it was all worth it. 

Castiel’s truck had been left behind, Dean promising to get it back to Kansas, somehow, else abandon it and find him some new wheels since the thing refused to start in the morning cold.

Helps to know your car, Cas, Dean had told him. But if you’re not schooled in the ways of the mechanical beast, then you should at least have a ride that won’t die on you every hundred miles.

He’d made a passing comment—a promise—to teach Castiel a thing or two when they got back to the bunker, pocketing the keys and letting the warmth of his coffee permeate his then-chilled bones as he swallowed, accompanying Cas back to their room.

The thought of home and family and a damn good win pooled in Sam’s chest like a sun-warmed lake at the turn of seasons.

He could feel change coming—it had already come. It was here, and it was good.

It allowed him to feel real hope for the struggle ahead—for the journey, and the darkness they would encounter.

There was always something just beyond the horizon, waiting in the shadows, waiting for night to fall.

Usually, with his brother and his best friend beside him, Sam felt they were a force to be reckoned with. That together they could take on anything.

And now that the truth was known, now that they were something close to happy, now that they were stronger in and of themselves for it, now, like this, in the open presence of love, the three of them could fight and probably win.

But more importantly, when the dust was settled and the threat destroyed, they would have each other. Not someone just to kill for, or die for, but to live for. To truly be with.

Change had come, and it was strong, and real, and good. They deserved this. And if the world depended on them, and happiness was akin to some mighty strength, then that was just a bonus.

#destiel ficlet #12x12 coda #sam pov #s12 #cv #teen #myficlets #s12 codas #fix it #home #family #hopeful ending #change #deancas