#or if Dean still had this jacket in s9

[gaytedlasso]

Newly fallen Cas starts stealing Dean’s leather jacket

#this isn’t meant to be like s16 vibes obvs #thought was more like. what if Cas fell in the early seasons #or if Dean still had this jacket in s9 #sketch.art #spn art #castiel #castiel art #becauseofthebowties #tuserpris #bebeverse #cowboycoven #cw smoking #sorta #cw injury

[youchangedmedean]

Why Dean’s Heaven Outfit is so Cursed

You may have seen my previous post about why Dean’s outfit in heaven is so cursed, but since then I have spotted even more.

According to Jared at the Virtual Con after 15x20 aired when asked ‘Were any lines added or ad libbed by you two [Jared and Jensen]?’ (starts at 29:28 timestamp)

... So, when we’re on that bridge and uh, and Dean says, “Heya Sammy” and then it cuts to Sam, and I’m dressed like, as best I could, like uh like the pilot with Dean, y’know. ...

So from this, we know that Sam on the bridge in 15x20 was supposed to be dressed like the pilot. I infer that Dean was also supposed to be dressed like the pilot but based on the wording it’s possible that’s not what he meant. As soon as we got BTS pics from the last day on set however, we all pointed out that they were dressed like the pilot but there is a difference.

So what did Dean wear in the pilot? He had on 2 different outfits. First a dark jacket and a red shirt.

After Dean gets covered in mud, he changes into a denim shirt and John’s leather jacket.

Another thing to note is that both Sam and Dean wear sneakers in the pilot. No boots for Dean.

So it looks like for Dean in 15x20, the heaven outfit is based on outfit 1 with the dark jacket, plain red shirt and jeans.

Dean consistently has plain red shirts through the seasons and continues to wear the dark jacket until 9x03 so I would bet that the very jacket was sitting in storage until s15.

Something to note is that while Sam is in a virtually identical outfit in 15x20 and the pilot, Dean is not. They must have had to source Sam’s outfit specifically for this. Sam does wear a hoodie and a beige jacket in later seasons so they could have built it out of Sam’s wardrobe but they chose not to. He does not wear these exact clothes at any other point in the series apart from in Heaven. Dean’s Heaven outfit is just made out of his clothing from later in the series. They both wore sneakers in the pilot but in Heaven Dean still has his boots while Sam is wearing sneakers.

Compare:

If I was building Dean’s heaven outfit out of later seasons outfits, I would have chosen his plain red shirt (note: this is not the Demon!Dean/MoC!Dean shirt, it is a different one).

By the later seasons, Dean doesn’t actually wear dark dark jackets much. His only black jacket in s15 was this denim one which he has had since 10x04:

But the wardrobe department decided not to go for these and instead decided on cursed items instead.

So what was Dean wearing in Heaven?

The Shirt

Now this shirt is just plain cursed. This is only seen at 2 other points in the whole series, and it was a new one for s15. 

We first see it in 15x04 Atomic Monsters for the Chuck AU where Lucifer!Sam kills Dean. Directed by Mr Jensen Ackles himself.

Thanks to him, we also get a good look at the shirt

So this is the first time we ever see this shirt and its for a Chuck AU where Sam kills Dean.

The second time we see it, its in 15x13 and this is another cursed appearance. It is worn by Huntercorp!Dean while pretending to be our Dean in the bunker.

And why was Huntercorp!Dean there at all? Because Chuck was destroying worlds.

When AU!Dean leaves the bunker, there is an exchange that is a bit cursed.

Huntercorp!DEAN: Oh, uh, you think we could keep the flannel shirts?

DEAN: No.

So the shirt actually gets a mention by Huntercorp!Dean.

What we see here is that this shirt is NEVER worn by our Dean. It is worn by a Chuck AU Dean and Huntercorp!Dean fleeing a world Chuck had destroyed while pretending to be our Dean.

We never see our Dean wear this shit until Heaven which seems like an odd choice.

Dean also doesn’t normally wear red and black plaid shirt. In fact, the previous one he had has an interesting history as pointed out by @wigglebox​ when we were discussing it.

It is first seen in 12x21 and he continues to wear it into 12x23 when Dean has to go into Mary’s mind.

We then see it again and for the last time in 13x16 Scoobynatural.

Both of these episodes are sort of AU episodes where he’s venturing into another character’s mind or heading into Scooby-Doo world.

So both Dean’s black and red plaid shirts have a cursed history relating things not being real and for this specific shirt, AUs. They could have chosen a plain red shirt almost identical to the pilot but they chose not to.

The Jacket

Dean has this jacket for a long time. He has a blue one and a black one. This black jacket has been around since s9 and gets worn a fair bit. On the whole, it doesn’t have a very happy history, its first worn for Kevin’s funeral in 9x10 and is worn after Claire is bitten by a Werewolf in 12x16.

However, the most notable thing about this jacket is what should have been it’s demise.

Dean is wearing it in 13x23 when he fights Lucifer and AU!Michael takes over his body.

At the end of the episode, we see that Michael has changed dean’s clothes and presumably ditched them somewhere.

Dean comes back at the end of 14x02 wearing Michael’s clothes. He arrives back at the bunker in 14x03 and changes into Dean clothes but is missing his watch for the whole episode, presumably because Michael ditched it. The denim shirt Dean wears in 13x23 is never seen again (yes, I have watched s14 and s15 just to check and have spreadsheets for Dean’s outfits!). His boots are back in 14x03 but I suppose you could argue he had multiple pairs.

We are left to assume that the jacket is also gone (and it really should be gone) but it makes a miraculous reappearance in 14x13 Lebanon.

Now this episode is an odd episode. They get their Dad back by messing up time, Cas doesn’t know them until they reset it back again. The shirt in this episode is also notable and I will write a post on it soon. So again, we have part of Dean’s heaven outfit connecting to alternative timelines where it really shouldn’t be at all.

BUT IT GETS WORSE EVERYONE!

This jacket appears at just one other point in s15. Now if you had to pick the most cursed of cursed times to put it where would you put it on Dean?

The Vamp Chuck future in 15x09 where Sam and Dean die as vampires.

So this jacket should have disappeared in 13x23 but reappears for an episode where time is altered in 14x13 and when Chuck is showing Sam the future in 15x09 if they ‘win’ and they die as vampires. Dean is then killed on a vampire hunt in 15x20 and ends up wearing this jacket in Heaven. Cool, cool.

This jacket becomes connected to our Dean but in altered timelines and worlds while the shirt is connected to alternative Deans. Both the shirt and the jacket have direct connections to Chuck.

So we see Dean in Heaven wearing this cursed outfit drinking cursed El Sol beer with the same cursed monkey from 14x13 Lebanon (see above, it was in the roadhouse too).

This is not an outfit that screams happy. This is not an outfit that screams Sam and Dean won. This is an outfit that seems to scream Chuck won. 

I guess we’ll just have to wait until Jackles manages to get a continuation...

One final odd thing to note. We all remember Jensen’s video posted before the finale when he was dressing up as Dean for the last time “at least for now”. Well he wasn’t actually wearing the outfit Dean wore in Heaven although all the Heaven scenes were shot on the last day of filming, the 10th of September.

He was wearing the Heaven plaid shirt, but not the Heaven Jacket. It was Dean’s black denim jacket I pointed out earlier. If you look it has seams that the Heaven Jacket doesn’t and the pocket flaps are a different shape.

I have gone through all the Heaven scenes and he is wearing the Heaven jacket in all of them. But I can’t think of a reason why on a hot day in September when Jensen is getting changed into costume he would have a different one of Dean’s jackets on over the shirt he needs to wear for the scenes.

#long post #but ive been needing to explain that for months #there is no way this was an accident #every department was telling us this is wrong #i am in awe of the wardrobe department honestly #and have more meta coming soon #my meta #my wardrobe meta #deans outfits #dean #spn #spn finale #dean winchester #supernatural #15x20 #and red booths in beckys house in 15x04 #15x13 #14x13 #13x23 #15x20 was chuck confirmed #spn meta #deans heaven jacket #deans heaven plaid

[angelfishofthelord]

📓?

okay time to talk about my cannibal angel idea. and no this is not inspired by hannibal i've had this idea for like a year now. even thought of changing my url to cannibalangels at some point. this gets realllly long so more under the cut

anyways. s9 again. cas is an angel, so like sometime after the midseason? the idea is that there's a zombie-esque virus that happens as a result of the heaven's fall/the separation of the host. like after the fall the angels are no longer together, their grace isn't connected the way it used to be, and then (science mumbo jumbo) voila virus! once infected the virus makes angels rabidly hungry for grace, and since they're not in heaven the only other source of grace is each other so yeah, they start attacking and devouring each other. (dean: sounds like a them problem/cas: slaps the back of his head)

cas gets infected when trying to save one of his siblings from an infected angel. he does save the sibling and he knows that he's infected but he hides it from sam and dean by feeding the hunger for grace by eating...yeah you guessed it...himself. eventually sam or dean sees like entire chunks of his arm missing and they find out. the problem is that by eating his own grace (autocannibalism) he's weakening his own ability to reproduce grace/heal himself. so at some point he's going to eat himself to death/not be able to recover.

enter gabriel. who is alive because i want him to be. he's like ive seen an outbreak of this virus thousands of years ago. sam and dean are like Great how do we cure it? gabriel says we didn't. we killed all the infected angels. (cas: yes absolutely kill me/everyone else: stfu)

gabriel is determined to save cas ofc so he flaps off to find a cure. not before gabriel lets cas feed on him so he doesn't have to eat himself for awhile (archangels dont get the virus cuz their grace is special). cue the classic horror scene of someone with their back to the audience and then someone else's bloody face appears over their shoulder. gabriel is just *holding cas close, telling him its okay* while cas is *half crying half chewing through him*.

Also. in case gabriel isnt back in time and cas gets hungry again, cas insists that they set up precautions so he doesnt hurt anyone, angel or human. So they have to put him a straightjacket and hannibal-esque mouth-mask to keep him from eating himself. gabriel tells sam and dean that they have to let cas eat a little of himself every day, or cas'll go insane from the hunger much faster and become feral. Every morning its like *okay feeding time* (sam undoes the jacket and mask) cas: pls don't watch/sam: you know i have to stay here and make sure you don't eat too much/cas: still turns away in shame

god writing this would Destroy me. i just have like mental images of cas in his full straightjacket-hannibal-mask-get-up spending time with the boys like. leaning his head on sam's shoulder when he reads to him. squished in between sam and dean on the sofa for movie night. lying on his side on the bed and dean curled up beside him. it would be the most tragic devastating adorable thing ever.

#my fanfic ideas #tw cannibalism #cannibal angels #this idea is so close to my heart but i Know it would shatter me #spn horror

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

28 Oct. Suptober: Monster mash

After he left, Dean said to Cas, "Come on, Mr. Crypt Kicker. You need to get cleaned up too."

s9 au: deancas

Special thanks to @clenster for originating one particular moment herein 😇

"Heyyyy," Dean drawled at Cas and Sam as they came thumping down the bunker stairs. "You survived."

Cas tried to take the bone-deep relief he felt at seeing Dean off of his face. "You're awake."

"I am," Dean said with a disturbing amount of enthusiasm. 

He had obviously bathed but not shaved, put on clean pajamas and mismatched socks. He was still pale, and while there was no way he'd actually shrunk in the three hours since Cas had seen him last, the robe Dean was also wearing made him seem smaller, like a kid playing dress up. 

Cas wanted to wrap him up in a dozen blankets and force him back to bed.

"You are both so much more disgusting than I'd even assumed you'd be," Dean said. "Looks like the hunt was a real monster mash."

"Thanks," Sam said, tone dry as toast. "It was a graveyard smash."

Both he and Dean looked at Cas. 

Cas got the impression he was supposed to react. "We did literally bash in the heads of two ghouls in a cemetery," he said, just stating a fact for lack of knowing what exactly he was supposed to say instead. 

There was a smear of ghoul on his tuxedo jacket as evidence of the night's adventure.

Sam was shaking his head in amusement at something. "You were right, Dean. The weirdos getting married in the cemetery never even noticed us. There were maybe two hundred people attending, all black tie. We blended right in."

Dean grinned. "Told you those tuxedoes were an investment." His grin dropped as he grimaced at Sam wringing black goo water out of his sleeve. "Probably we should burn them later."

"Yeah," Sam said. "I'm gonna go take a shower for nine hundred years."

After he left, Dean said to Cas, "Come on, Mr. Crypt Kicker. You need to get cleaned up too."

In his bedroom Cas divested himself of his gunky jacket and muddy shoes and socks. Miracle of miracles, the trousers had made it out of the ordeal unscathed, and the stiff white shirt was only slightly smudged. 

Dean made Cas hold still while he fiddled with the bowtie that had mostly already come undone, albeit in a tangled way. "There," he said, slipping the tie from around Cas's collar. "The tuxes were a great idea unless you'd been strangled to death."

"I was never at any risk of dying," Cas informed him.

"Sure." Dean had, it seemed, forgotten everything he'd ever lectured Cas on about personal space.

The sight of the freckles across his nose made Cas sigh on the inside. Those freckles always seemed to stand out more when Dean was hurt or sick, which was bad, but they gave Dean's face so much charming character, which was… Not something Cas was supposed to fixate on.

"How are you feeling?" Cas asked, looking anywhere but at the freckles.

Dean rolled his eyes at him. "I'm fine, Cas."

"No more nausea? You've been able to keep down some water?"

"My stomach is much better, thank you, and I've been sipping water at regular intervals as instructed." His testy voice made Cas unreasonably happy. 

"I could fix the last lingering--" Cas started.

"No, you couldn't," Dean said, picking up one of Cas's wrists. "I'm fine. It's just a stomach bug. There isn't any reason to go draining the tank on this sorta thing."

Cas sighed out loud this time. "It wouldn't hurt me."

"Well, we're not gonna find out, are we." Dean turned his wrist over. "Oh, there." He fussed with the cufflink toggle until he could work the post out of the button hole.

"I can do that," Cas said, even if in fairness cufflinks seemed like a lot of trouble when a button would function just as well at keeping a shirt cuff tidy.

"I know you could." Dean looked at him with a little half smile. "But I don't mind."

Cas's mouth went dry looking back at him. Dean's smile faded, but not like he was upset -- more like he was seeing something incongruously sublime.

It made Cas feel light-headed and heavy footed, rooted to the spot, his other hand palm-up as Dean slipped out the second cufflink. 

He and Dean were staring at each other with an intensity wholly unrequired for the disassembly of a standard issue tuxedo. Cas knew this and didn't quite care.

"Well," Dean said, breaking eye contact first. "Glad the case is resolved. And no injuries for a change."

"Yes." Cas blinked a couple of times, stepping away. "Sam and I worked well together. Of course you were missed."

Dean snorted. "Next ghoul's on me."

"And I'm very glad you're feeling stronger," Cas said, beginning to unbutton the shirt from the collar down.

There was a long pause. When he looked up, Dean had gone very pink. 

"Uh," Dean said. "Oh. Yeah. Much."

"Wait," Cas said. He crowded into Dean and raised his hand toward him.

He saw Dean's pupils dilate. For a second it distracted him enough that Cas felt his own mind go white as a blizzard. 

"Cas," Dean said, voice rough and desperate. 

Cas cupped Dean's jaw. Abnormal heat bled into Cas's hand instantly. "You're running a temperature again."

Dean closed his eyes for a second. "Oh," he said, shoulders sagging. 

When he opened his eyes again his pupils had contracted a bit, but the sheen of fever was more obvious.

Cas didn't quite beg. He did insist though, softly: "Let me." 

Dean exhaled. In a few beats he nodded.

Cas removed his hand and placed two fingertips gently on Dean's forehead. It took nothing, less than a breath, to eliminate the fever and take away the rest of the considerable amount of nausea Dean had actually been experiencing. Despite Cas's waning grace, the sickness was so inconsequential compared to the power he commanded it was like dusting away a speck of sand with a lightning bolt. While he was there, Cas also cleared up the drop of water sitting behind Dean's eardrum, a tedious leftover from a recent head cold that would've been likely to cause an ear ache eventually.

The flush didn't leave Dean's cheeks. 

"Better?" Cas asked, because for a moment he honestly could not tell if he'd helped.

Dean had that expression of wonder on his face again. He swallowed and nodded and sat on the edge of the mattress, eyes never leaving Cas's.

"Good," Cas said. His chest ached; he had to admit it was not from the exertion of healing. "That's--"

He meant to say more, but Dean had reached up to cup his face. He'd pulled Cas down, and then Cas's mouth -- as was Dean's -- was otherwise occupied.

#suptober21 #spn #deancas #fic #destiel #suptober #clenster

[gooferdusted]

hypothetically, if I were to write a fix-it/rewrite au fic, (thinking of starting at s5 but debating starting earlier) what are some storylines you’d take out/change, characters you’d save/kill, and specifically changes to sam’s character/arcs you’d like bc i need ideas

ok. ok. I'm gonna try to not go completely off the fucking rails while I write this up but I gotchu (also these r all just my own hot n spicy takes so like. pick what u like, it's all goodie goodie)

• no time passing differently in hell. literally four months is ~Enough!~ a year is enougghh!!!!!! like I get that they wanted to make hell this horrible unreachable thing but u can still like... get that across without having it be this unfathomable chunk of time out of a persons life. like sam was down there with TWO very pissed off angel's for 180 years??? how can he still speak english??? how does dean remember ANYTHING about his old life when mentally more than half of it was spent being endlessly tortured until he finally cracked??? its just.... Too Much...

• ON that note, I feel like later on they never rlly had sam and dean bond over the fact that like... they are genuinely the ONLY two people on earth who have survived actual hell. I mean we got that one off line from dean at some point but??

• no chuck as god. just a greasy greasy rat man getting insane stories projected into his brain. and on the topic of that.... I dont like the reflection of the real life fanbase in the spn universe??? they're pulp fiction novels, it should be all like 50 year old + ladies who picked them up at the local bargain bin, not b*cky r*sen

• I like... WANNA say smth abt s4..... bc I think the way that they handled things were a little out of character BUT I also think that was lind of the point??? like the angels and demons were manipulating them to say/do things they would normally never say/do to eachother to drive a big enough wedge between then that they would eventually say yes to being the vessels. like it hurts to watch sooo much but it did drive the plot forward in a very particular way that probably couldnt have happened otherwise. that being said, when the levee breaks makes me sad, and I dont want to see sam crying for his dead mother alone in a basement! cest la vie.

• sam and dean.... are Friends...,, why did we all forget that..... watch hell house and maybe I'll calm down.....

• PSYCHIC SAM!!!!!! you all know me. you know how I feel about psychic sam... robbed. s4 finale rlly had sam like "drinking that much demon blood has truly changed me forever..... theres no going back now...... 😔😔" like ok. ok. where are your superpowers. where are they.

• I wish some of the other special children had made it out :(( I really liked andy and ava (also sam finding other friend who are like him??? queer allegory??? spare queer allegory?????)

• I also dont think the roadhouse shouldve burned down!!! that shouldve been a Staple Location like Bobby's house. same w Missouri's, literally why did we only visit her once.

• ur sending an ask to my blog so I assume this is just a given for u but!!! we're takin away the misogyny. we're takin away the fetishization! anything that would be given the greenlight by joss whedon we are putting straight in the trash. <3

• this is mostly a thing in later seasons like. idk 9-15, but no ppl knowing who the winchesters are. they are NOBODIES. they pop up like little meerkats and fuck everything up beyond repair.

• also no fancy tech. no iphone 76z or whatever the fuck. sam has an ipod 1. the wheel is so stuck he can barely press play anymore. remember when he literally just tore off the top casing off his laptop and threw it away? more of that.

• no nice clothes. NO nice clothes we fuckin hate that. everything sam and dean own was purchased pre 1995 and dean is an expert at removing blood stains and sewing up jackets. dean will walk into a laundromat with a tide pen and just start goin for it like that scene in deadpool.

• tbh.... I feel like the issues in later seasons are really this massive horrible domino effect. like I could say heres how to fix s7-10 but the fact is if shit hadnt gone down lile it had in s7 s10 would be a different story entirely.

• I am gonna do it tho bc I suck <3

• s6: soulless sam was funney but did that really go anywhere? no. tbh I dont remember what happened w cas and I'm just not going to look it up. it's just not in the cards for tonight. dean w lisa.... ehh.... I've discussed this at wayy too much length w mushroom and we both agreed that dean would probably keep hunting to keep his mind off things and to try and honor sams sacrifice. I guess theres an argument to be made for the fact that it kind of was Sam's dying wish that dean just go fin her and live a normal life but... idk. purgatory was. . indeed a Concept..... that could have maybe gone somewhere if it didnt rapidly spiral into....

• s7!!! I mean. jesus christ. I know some people like this one but jesus christ. the way they literally couldnt commit to having sam have genuine mental health problems after centuries in hell or to just magically wipe them away..... bobby dying halfway thru.... charlie was a bright spot I suppose, but her intro is not my fave episode w her.... idk what the fuck happened w cas, I guess he was god. the leviathan designs were kinda neat but like oh my fucking god it wasnt worth it.

• s8: uh. rough start. idk why the turn tables so suddenly and dean's like "why didnt u look for me >:((" bc??? yall agreed not to???? at the VERY least they couldve had sam been like "I legitimately had no reason to think u werent dead and in heaven and tha wouldve been a little rude of me to pull u out of that." but we went for ~drama~ to make it spicy I guess. ouygh. bunkers there!!! that was cool!!! MoL is a cool concept!!! altho... it doesn kinda contradict the whole sam and dean are nobodies thing... idk. trials of hell was like... cool in theory but bad in practice unless they were planning on ending the show for realskies. and they did not.

• s9: uhh... hated gadreel! hated that shit! wish they had spun that whole storyline to be more "hey sam I noticed u were s*icidal should we maybe address that??" or even like.... I mean dean probably couldve just TOLD sam abt his plan, he had already convinced him to stay alive by that point??? there was no reason to lie!!! plus the betrayal of gadreel not being who he said he was wouldve been like. literally enough drama, we didnt need to fracture the team again. and cas was??? where exactly??? be was human for at least half of that season but hey didnt know what to do w him so they chucked him in a convenience store??? good lord.

• s10: got no suggestions for that one, just toss it

• s11: ok... shes cute.... we can forgive her.... the lore is shaky at best but the episodes SLAP and the characterization is *chefs kiss*. it's been a hot minute since I've seen it so if smth sucked I dont remember and I plan to keep it that way!!!!

• s12: n.. no. no mary. no mary unless we're doing it right. and I promise u doing it right was not poorly ripping off kingsman. couldve brought back bobby!!! if they desperately wanted some drama couldve brought back john!!! actually fuck that, no way

• s13-15: no thoughts, only jack kline <3

#holy fuck im so sorry <3 #shut up cereal #asks #long post #spn critical #hate tagging my posts as that bc i dont wanna b one of ~Those~ but i dont want ppl coming after me 4 this #theres probably like 100000 things i forgot!!! feel free to add ur own!!!! #there are some seasons i only ever watched once very very long ago.... #and tbh classic spn is the freshest in my mind so im focusing on her #spn #supernatural

[mittensmorgul]

6.18, Frontierland.

heck I love this episode too. I love a good number of s6 episodes individually, but I especially love the ones that actually make narrative sense together, and this is definitely one of them...

Of course, Dabb knows his themes, and the major ones are literally all over this episode. Things from Dabb Era that he spent pages on in this episode:

-the never-ending loop, fate vs free will, being trapped in a narrative despite attempting to write your own destiny, the Colt as potential to break that cycle but always falling just short of being the Magical Fix Everything Gun:

SAM But you're a hunter. SAMUEL COLT Retired. SAM There's no such thing. SAMUEL COLT I'm out. SAM There is no getting out. Look, for what it's worth, in my time, you're a hero. SAMUEL COLT Me? SAM Yes, sir. [...] SAMUEL COLT (nods) Not bad. (Samuel opens his jacket so Sam can see the colt in his holster) You don't want it. It's a curse. Believe me. SAM Great. Then let me take it off your hands. SAMUEL COLT You go put on a few more miles and come back, and we'll talk. SAM Trust me, I've got plenty of mileage. SAMUEL COLT I'm doing you a favor. Believe me. SAM So, what? You can really just sit there? SAMUEL COLT I've given my whole life to this. I'm done. SAM So it doesn't matter what happens. SAMUEL COLT No, it doesn't. SAM So everything you did, it all means nothing? Give me the gun.

(Sam proves his worthiness to use the Colt, but still believes this might magically be the solution to their problems-- indirectly, using the Colt to get an even more impossible ingredient of phoenix ashes)

and

BOBBY Cas, you -- you look like you went 12 rounds with truckasaurus. What happened? CASTIEL I was, uh...I was betrayed. Rachel, uh...Raphael...He corrupted her. She turned on me. BOBBY Sorry. Girl's a real... peach. CASTIEL She's... dead. I... was wounded. I needed... safety. Thank you. (He tries to get up from the couch, coughs and grunts, Bobby pushes him back down) BOBBY Hey, hey, hey, hey. Hey. What's with the finger painting? CASTIEL It's a warding symbol against angels. BOBBY How bad's it hurt? CASTIEL I'll heal. BOBBY Well, good...'Cause we got less than an hour before you pick up the kids at Frontierland. CASTIEL I can't.

(We see the first glimpse of just how shady whatever Cas has been up to all season really is, that even his closest allies in Heaven were unaware of his machinations and when they learn the truth they threaten to abandon his side because the plan was That Horrific, and yet he persists, reframing their reaction as "betrayal" and his actions as just. He's attempting to author this season the way Chuck had before, and Metatron will in s9, and Billie has been biding her time on since s11... but Cas doesn't even understand how much he's actually being manipulated by the larger cosmic plan yet, to his own detriment... It will take YEARS for him to recover from this)

and

ELIAS Open up that cell. DEAN Open it yourself. You melt people's faces off. I'll bet you got the juice to tear that apart easy, don't you? Unless you can't. Just like you couldn't break those cuffs when they strung you up. (Dean throws the iron nail he's holding at Elias, who catches it by reflex) ELIAS Aah. (he drops the nail and his hand smolders) DEAN Iron shackles...iron bars, iron nail. See a pattern? Don't worry. Most creatures I meet can't get it up for iron. It's a common monster problem. ELIAS So you're a hunter. DEAN Slash sheriff. ELIAS You know what this son of a bitch did? DEAN Do tell. ELIAS I was married to a woman. Good woman -- human. We lived outside of town, didn't bother anyone. DEAN Sure, freak with a heart of gold. ELIAS You want to call me "monster," fine. But all we did was go into town. I go into the bank for five minutes. I come out, she's gone. And then I heard her scream. (Exhales sharply) This... man had her pinned in the alley. I go to stop him, he pulls his gun, shoots me, then her. She died in my arms. 'Course, I don't die. The shots brought the Sheriff. Next thing I know, I'm in iron. That's why I want him just where he is -- trapped, scared. I saved the best for last. DEAN (to the deputy)Is that true? ELIAS So tell me -- are you really willing to die to protect this piece of filth? DEAN Honestly, I could care less about him. He's a dick and a coward. DEPUTY Hey! DEAN But this ain't about him. I know what you are. ELIAS Really? DEAN Yeah. So...I got to kill you. ELIAS Well, if you know what I am, then you know you can't. (Elias grabs the deputy's gun from where his holster hangs on the wall and shoots the deputy) DEAN Wow, I should've seen that coming.

(Dean, as always, the perfect mixture of complete understanding combined with his inability to see the bigger picture until he stumbles over the edge of his own intuition into the region of the narrative that's being deliberately manpulated by an outside force he can't even see yet, by the specific design of that outside force... every time he gets to a point where he can see victory, there's another roadblock thrown in his way that forces him back into the narrative circle. Oh, and the Magic Gun can't possibly solve all their problems, but believing it can and putting his trust in the weapon leave him hanging out to dry more often than not...)

#spn 6.18 #s14 hellatus rewatch #spn 14.20 #dabb vs cars #it's spirals all the way down #spiders georg of the tnt loop #that's what free will is

[stusbunker]

Known: And the Ass’s Jaw

A Supernatural Dark Fan-fiction

Featuring: Dean Winchester x Demon!Reader, x Female Vessel OC, Sam, Crowley and some other demon minions

Summary: CC can’t come to the phone right now... Crowley gets our reader out in the open. Dean acquires the First Blade. This turns into an episode rewrite, I hope you enjoy how our reader fits into canon! xoxo Stu

Warnings: Self harm, mental health, possession, blood, “drug” use, violence, murder, sexual harassment, body disposal and a gentle reminder that our reader is a demon.

Series Masterlist

*^*

February 25, 2014

Green Valley, Arizona

Chloe sat in the bed of her truck, knife held firmly in her hand as she let it hover over her thigh. Her cut off shorts accenting the opportunity as a constant taunt. There, beneath six inches of magically strengthened iron, was her answer. She just needed to slide the edge of the blade over her skin, if she was possessed, she would injure or jolt the demon from her body. If she wasn’t, all she would do is leave a simple cut behind. If her hand would just move closer to piercing her flesh, this could all be over.

With a simple flip of her wrist you began. The soft silver edge split her thigh open like a burst seam. The blood blossoming up and out in a swell of heat and a dull sting, she watched you, paralyzed as another gash opened from her cherished blade. You smirked as the letters merged into the simple word, the surrounding skin reddening with each fresh stroke. The mesmerizing power of inflicting damage inside out causing your eyes to blacken, your mouth pulled into a snarl as you jammed the tip of the knife straight on and into the meat, ending the statement. The mixing of metals at the tip was a punch to the gut, the iron carving away at the latches of your control; you slipped back satisfied but laughing at yourself.

Her consciousness rushed forward to feel each throb of her pulse as she read your message.

HI.

*^*

March 5, 2014

Another Penthouse Suite

 Crowley didn’t even feel the needle as it left his arm, the rush of human emotions quelled the lust for pain and morphed his perspective. He really didn’t want to break up Dean’s little tryst, it would be so much more satisfying to out the bitch to his face. But these were desperate times and he needed a few more ringers on his side. If he could just figure out what department she had escaped from, perhaps he could exploit her talents as well. If she had any, with demons the odds were less than a crap shoot.

He was going to track her down once he found the First Blade, which he would do after this high ran off. Can’t be doing business with the stink of humanity coursing through your veins. He was a professional, after all. No, he closed his eyes and drifted away in a day dream of smug zingers and disarticulated Abaddon.

March 18, 2014

The Bunker

Blade Runners (s9,e16)

 “What do you know about the Men of Letters Massacre of 1958?” Sam stared back at Crowley, who was chained, once again in their dungeon.

“We know Abaddon missed our grandfather and Larry Ganem, was there anybody else?” Dean continued.

“Let me get this straight,” Crowley balked. “You keep me locked up in this closet, ignore my suffering, and then come barging in here and demand my help?”

“More or less, yeah,” Dean agreed.

Crowley looked at Dean and then gaped at Moose. “Did I or did I not keep up my end of the bargain the other night? Quite brilliantly, I might add. We ARE partners and you OWE me!”

After little concession on either part, the brothers caved to the dramatic demon.

“What do you want?” Dean decided it was easier to play along than to argue with Crowley any longer.

Crowley paused a tick, “I wouldn’t turn down more comfortable seating arrangements, a few nips of Scotch, and—” His eyes glinted as he drew out his final request. Dean and Sam raised their eyebrows, fueling his theatrics. “This is paramount. I want Dean’s, how should I put it? Lady friend? To accompany us.”

“Not happening,” Dean interjected flatly.

“Wait, Dean, CC would be there as backup. If Abaddon’s closing in, we could use all the help we could get, especially from someone we can depend on,” Sam grimaced at Crowley’s smug face, he felt dirty agreeing with the crumbling King of Hell.

“Moose is making sense, Dean,” Crowley purred. “Come now, let me meet your pet.”

“No!” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, “Look, she booked it last time she knew you were here. She was working with Kevin and the moment you started your belly-aching she was out the door. No, Cease doesn’t deal with this level of crap. Not like us.”

“Shame, really,” Crowley leaned his head back and nestled into the creaky old chair. “I’d thought we had a lot in common, both always getting screwed by the mistakes that are the Winchesters and all.”

Dean stomped forward, just to have Sam pull him back from punching Crowley. When they were out of what they estimated to be earshot, Sam continued, “Look, man, I don’t like it either, but CC’s tough. Just call her, she can always say no.”

Dean returned ten minutes later with a calculated glint in his eye, Sam hadn’t moved from his perch outside of the Devil’s Trap.

“So?”

“She’s about four hours out,” Dean gave Crowley a cold curl of his lip. “If you so as much as look at her wrong, I’m going to let her take it out of your hide herself, you hear me?”

“You give all your mates the possessive alpha male monologue or do I threaten your manhood, Squirrel?” Crowley tutted. “Honestly! I think you underestimate just how charming I can be.”

Sam pursed his lips and spun on his heel while Dean sauntered forward. “Now what was that you were saying about seating arrangements?”

Crowley swallowed at the menace in Dean’s voice, careful to keep his thoughts to himself as the boys set up a suitable Queen Anne’s Wing-back for him in the Library, among the other amenities. After an hour of digging through records, they managed to get real intel out of Crowley. Dean naively hoped that their progress would keep CC out of the hunt for the First Blade, but a demon never forgets.

“Call your little huntress, tell her to meet us there,” Crowley’s dark eyes mocked Dean as he watched Dean as he shoved Crowley’s head into the backseat of the Impala.

*^*

Chloe walked in a hazy forest, the underbrush crunching beneath her boots. She didn’t know if she was tracking or hiding, she just knew she had to keep moving. The sky above was a muted gray with streaks of purple, twilight was approaching, and she needed to find cover. Slowly she realized she had lost her lead with the snapping of twigs somewhere behind her. The farther she journeyed, the more certain she knew what was chasing her and the panic grew. She could keep running, she could stop and fight or she could go quietly. Just when she had made her choice the woods parted before her, revealing her grandfather’s cabin and her old bike topped with a shiny new helmet waiting for her. It didn’t matter, the thing that was chasing her didn’t need transportation, but the sight of home had made her pause long enough to end the game once and for all.

*^*

You flew down the highway with the windows open, letting the winter air bite against your bare arms. Chloe was gone, hiding in some memory and you had been buzzing on the power of absolute control. The phone hummed from underneath her leather jacket beside you and you slid the call open before turning down the radio.

There was no way out of this invitation. In fact, it may have been easier to avoid a summoning spell than Dean telling you that Crowley wanted to meet CC. The King, however incapacitated, requested your presence. It was a death sentence, really, either now or later. The loyalty to the throne may not have been your motivation, but its illusion may be your salvation. That with Dean and Sam on your side, gave you enough confidence to answer it readily. Or maybe you were still a masochist this side of the Pit. Go big or go home. You gathered what little belongings you had back at your motel and climbed back into the truck. You hadn’t quite been able to keep Lebanon far enough away.

*^*

“Well, well, well,” Crowley stood alone beside the Impala. “Didn’t think you’d show.”

You remained in the driver’s seat and peered from the window. “Sir,” you nodded, looking around for either Winchester.

“Your boy toy and his oversized sidekick are fine, Y/N. They’re just chasing down an acquisition for me, sporting lads that they are” Crowley oversold. “Come now, let me look at you, Love.”

You hadn’t heard your name in what seemed like forever, an Earth year at least, it was jarring to be addressed by someone so important so intimately. Your overconfidence in your safety was shaken by the sudden solitude. The glint of spelled handcuffs at his wrists gave the final push which brought you out to stand in a seemingly vacant field, two feet from the King of Hell.

“So, Y/N, Darling, what are you doing topside and riding a hunter of all things?” Crowley tutted, thinking your vessel below demon-kind, sending your defenses back up. You looked down at CC’s legs and arms, flexing the muscles beneath her gentle curves before meeting his eye again.

“It was convenient and proved knowledgeable in the long run,” you shrugged, a thousand words passing between your eyes and Crowley’s.

“What of the state of things these days, hmmm? Abaddon and her scare tactics, a demon really needs to keep their friends close,” Crowley was getting to his point.

You knew there were darker reasons Crowley had coaxed you off the road, but there was no good response to a turf battle you had been avoiding. His dark eyes watched knowingly as you tried to conceal your uneasiness. But before you could satisfactorily reply, Sam stumbled out of the nearby trees.

“Magnus has Dean,” he bellowed before realizing you were there. “CC, hi, uh, Magnus is a collector, I think he wants Dean for his zoo.”

“Well, there are worse mugs to put on display,” Crowley muttered as Sam replied in an exasperated face. Sam stormed over to the trunk of the Impala and began digging while Crowley began working him over. You hadn’t spent much time alone with Sam since the whole Angel fiasco, but you knew when he was annoyed. Crowley was playing dumb, yet was still able to hit all his buttons, it was hard not to laugh at them both.

“You’re gonna need another set of hands when you get in there, unless you think Dean’s gonna want little miss priss over here breaking a nail.”

“Thanks, pass,” Sam snapped.

“Hey, at least he knows where I stand,” you interrupted, the low blow stomping out your amusement in less than two breaths.

“Does he?” Crowley grinned over the trunk lid at you.

“Yeah, I do,” Sam countered. “But he’s got a point. Dean wouldn’t want me dragging you into this, CC, this guy has got a spell for everything.”

“He’s human, right?”

“I think so, a witch-like un-aging human, but yeah I guess,” Sam continued rifling through his files.

“Well, if he’s human, he can die,” you surmised. What you didn’t say was that you wanted to be the one to do it, after snatching Dean for his own sick entertainment.

“I’ll remind you, both, that I am the one who flushed the lout Gadreel out of Sam’s noggin. So! Lately, Big Boy, I’ve seen more playing time than you.”

“Crowley, will you please, shut, the hell, up?”

Crowley shoved his tongue in his cheek and sauntered over to your side of the Impala, he nodded to the woods. You didn’t want to do this, not here or now, especially since you knew it would do little to help Dean. But you followed the King about thirty paces until Sam was out of earshot.

“You care about him, is that it?”

You didn’t respond, crossing your arms over your chest, listening in mild annoyance.

“Fine, be stubborn, but you’re still just a bottom dwelling demon in a mediocre meat suit. I have the juice to stop the sorcerer, now, are you going to help me convince the not-so-Jolly Green over there or are you going to stomp your feet and prove yourself a petulant human?”

You didn’t have to convince Sam in the end. Necessity was the mother of invention and the need of the hour was ingredients.

“I did good, eh, Moose?” Crowley pandered once Sam had prepared the spell, “everything on the list. You’re welcome.”

“Remember, stay close, do what I say, and shut the hell up.”

“I’m growing on you, aren’t I?” Crowley stood between you and Sam as Sam started the chant. Crowley’s voice was pathetic and needy. You knew he was off his game, but the fishing for approval was almost painful to watch, and especially suspicious. As the entryway blazed to life before you, Crowley turned and waved, blasting you backwards ten yards.

“Be a dear and wait in the car?” His voice taunted as they disappeared in the night.

*^*

Dean knew he needed to hold out for Sammy and CC to come through with the prison break. Crowley, well, Crowley was a long shot, but he could be tapped if Sam got desperate. What had they gotten into with this guy, the Men of Letters really gave this nutjob too much knowledge for their own good, didn’t they?

Dishonored and forgotten wasn’t enough of a punishment for Cuthbert “Magnus” Sinclair. This guy needed to be put down, once and for all. So, Dean played along, giving him the illusion of control until Dean had his back up squad on the board.

*^*

You could smell them before you heard them, demons. You spun CC’s knife in your hand and sunk into the cover of some nearby bushes. If you smelled them in a pack, one or more of them would be able to sniff out you and Crowley before long. You circled the invisible fortress, spreading your trail and gaining eyes on them. Over a five-minute wait, three stooges barged into the clearing, glaring at the abandoned vehicles.

“Look-e here, the Douche-chester mobile,” a lanky one drawled.

“Christ, she has us tailing after those two for this blade?”

“We woulda been here first, if you hadn’ta stopped to beat them cops, Morris,” the lanky one was apparently in charge.

They continued on, arguing and muttering about their boss, but they never said her name. It wasn’t like they were being cautious to mask their identities. They must have truly feared her if they didn’t utter her name aloud. Once they started in on the Impala, your eyes blazed black, the rage simmering like water beneath the lid of your skin. Eventually they spread out. Which sped up the chances of them finding and following your trail. Slowly you climbed into a low tree, letting their stomping feet cover the sounds of your efforts.

“So, what’s Crowley doin’ wit the Winchesters?”

“Do I look like his secretary, man, I don’t know. But it can’t be good. They are always getting into Hell’s business. You’d think if they wanted the job Sam would have demon-ed up and not put Lucifer back in the Cage.”

“Righteous little Ken Dolls would be real nice to play with though,” a voice like cracked ice spoke for the first time. The third demon was female, and she was much more torture-oriented than the mission required.

“Tommy, there aint no way of gettin’ in ta this vault,” Morris was now ten feet from the trunk of your tree, all any of them had to do was turn and look up and you were screwed.

Fighting against the compulsive breathing of your vessel, you waited. You slid to the farthest weight-bearing spot of the branch, aiming to get within dropping distance. With a calculated toss, you lobbed your knife holster towards the cars, the sound forced the three demon’s heads to snap to attention. In an instant they took off allowing you to leap from your perch and crash onto Tommy, the leader and the last of the pack. With your knife handle firmly in your mouth, you worked to cover his mouth.

The iron and silver blade sunk into his vessel with a satisfying slice, he spasmed against your hold. Once you knew he was weak enough, you removed your hand, letting him smoke out from the decimated corpse. The woman’s and Morris’s voices called back, both confused and cowardly. You wiped the dead man’s blood on the thigh of your jeans and stalked back to the entrance of Magnus’s hiding place.

Amazingly, your gun was still tight against the small of your back, but its weight left little comfort when you were dealing with your own kind. You threw your voice channeling Tommy’s voice, taunting them as you crouched beside your truck, “Morris, get your ass over here and help me already.”

“What’s he want now,” the tall man muttered, stomping back to where you’d left the body.

“Don’t know, don’t care, but you have fun with that,” she snipped, walking backwards with a mocking wave. Once she was alone in the clearing you made your move.

“Hey,” you greeted her, pulling her away from her mutilation of the Impala’s paint job.

“Who the hell are you?!”

“No one of consequence,” you sighed, whipping your knife into her chest, it was two inches up and to the left from where you hoped, but it still froze her in place before her face was forced into a mask of rage.

“Fucking bitch!” She screamed, cutting your window of opportunity down. You charged her, the vessel was tiny compared to CC, your arms and legs reaching her before she could swing back. You threw her to the ground, her boot catching your stomach as she tried to will you off of her. Then you smiled down and twisted the knife, dragging the iron face across her chest in blistering strokes. The skin split bloodless, falling open like a burst bag of flour, the body that housed her was long dead. Muscles, fat and ribs exposed and ragged as she finally escaped through the yellowing lips.

Morris’s strong hands found you before you could enjoy your handy work, one clamped fiercely on your neck while the other hoisted you up by your thigh. Your knife fell from your hand as he had pinned your arm at an awful angle by way of the throat-crushing.

“One of Crowley’s bitches, eh?” He inhaled the scent of your hair. “Didn’t know the ol’ dog liked the chubby’uns. Can’t blame him, really.”

His hand roamed lower and you pushed back against him, trying to wrestle free. “Yeah, that’s it, Baby. Let me feel that fat ass.” You wanted to vomit, but the fingers bruising your throat would have stopped you, if you got that far. You started to panic, it was the middle of the night and you were completely alone; Chloe wasn’t even helping fight this sick fuck off of her. “Could do wit out that pistol ‘tween us though.”

“Why?” You struggled to speak, “my gun make you, insec-c-c—c.” He tightened his hold, crushing Chloe’s windpipe. As his spindly fingers started to undo your pants, you bent forward, lifting his feet out from behind him and slammed his face against the truck’s side view mirror, breaking his grasp of your throat. You coughed and drew sweet air back into her lungs, she was going to be banged up and your antics weren’t exactly helping that fact. You stomped on his foot and shoved him back against the truck, breaking his last hold on you. You stumbled forward, snatching the knife and quickly spinning to face him. His stance was wide, hoping from foot to foot as you inched closer, he grinned suddenly, the barrel of CC’s gun pointed square at your chest.

“Nice vessel you’ve got, sister, be a shame to muddy it up,” Morris taunted. You didn’t know how it came to mind, but suddenly you smoked out of Chloe’s mouth and straight down his shocked jaw. You hadn’t had a different vessel in months and never an already possessed one. But you found him quickly, blanketing his senses and twisting his essence into thin useless strands, like putty. When you felt him trying to leave you shoved him further back, bringing him inside the dead brain of his vessel and wallowing in the emptiness. Just when you thought he was too tired to keep fighting, you raised his hand and put a bullet in his temple.

“So much for this vessel,” you taunted before leaving him in the un-camouflageable husk.

Sure, he could have tried the same thing with CC, but you had scared him shitless. He shot off after his useless friends, like dogs with their tales between their legs. Unfortunately, those bitches would undoubtedly head home to Abaddon, with your treachery bursting from their lips. There was no hiding from Hell after this.

Once you were back inside Chloe, having righted her weapons and fixed her pants, you started hauling bodies. It was dawn before you had them all salted and stacked on a pyre two hundred yards north from the trail to the old Man of Letter’s safe house. The smell of burning flesh coated your nose and sunk into your clothes. It reminded you of home, a wistful smile came to your lips as you watched the bodies with a filling satisfaction.

*^*

Dean was doing his best to ignore Crowley’s verbal masturbation as they stomped out of the woods from Magnus’s place. He was terrified of the power the First Blade put in his hand and absolutely impressed with the taste the murder left in his veins. There was no high like it and so he tried to bury it. When they reached the clearing in which he had parked Baby, the sight was enough of a distraction as his stomach dropped.

“No, no. Come on!” Dean strode forward. “What the hell?!”

“That’s sulfur, demons,” Sam hurried to the other side of the car, checking their cargo.

“Uh, Abaddons’,” Dean groaned. “Well, she’s just one jump behind us. Guess she couldn’t find Magnus’s joint either. What about the trunk?”

“Safe,” Sam sighed in satisfaction. “The warding kept them out.”

Crowley finally reached the distraught hunters, confusion or concern heavy on his face.

“Demon mitts all over my Baby,” Dean stewed. “Oh, come on! What, now, they’re keying cars?!”

“Gents?” Crowley broke Sam’s focus, but Dean was too far gone, desperately trying to right the wrongs done to the beloved Impala. “Notice anyone missing?”

“Chloe,” Sam’s face fell to the empty spot of the missing truck.

“CC was here?”

“Yeah, Dean, you were inside overnight.”

“Wait, what?! It was like an hour, hour and a half tops,” Dean groaned.

“Must have been a temporal pocket, like Hell, only opposite,” Sam explained, scanning the horizon. He froze when he saw the pillar of gray smoke, “that’s not a good sign.”

“Maybe your bird cleaned up the mess,” Crowley mused.

“God, I hope so,” Dean clenched his eyes shut against the deep gashes in the car doors and slid inside. Whispering to the car the entire way over to the pyre. He parked beside CC’s battered pick up and he crawled out of the driver’s seat. Only to be knocked back against the steel frame as CC ran into his chest, breath ragged, and face covered in tears.

“Dean, thank fuck,” she croaked as he pulled her close. “I don’t know what happened, suddenly I was lighting a pyre with three strangers on it. I, I thought I was dreaming.”

Dean stared over her head to Sam and Crowley, concern of varying degrees on both of their faces. Dean kicked himself for leaving her alone, she reeked of sulfur, gasoline and burning flesh. He held her at arm’s length and examined every inch of exposed skin, they really worked her over, fucking bastards.

“D’you have anything to do with this,” Dean looked Crowley square in the eye.

“I might have left her behind, for her own protection,” Crowley raised his hands in surrender. “I had no idea Abaddon’s goons were right behind us.”

“Who are you?” CC asked.

“Name’s Crowley, Y/N was it?” The Englishman leaned forward with a doughy palm.

“Shut up, Crowley. You know this is Chloe, Chloe Collins. You met her yesterday,” Sam eyed the demon contemptuously.

“Right, Ms. Collins, pleasure,” Crowley smiled smugly.

“He’s sort of the King of Hell,” Dean whispered as she unwrapped herself from his arms to take the demon’s handshake.

“I remember, Kevin told me all about you,” you returned his menacing stare as Crowley broke the handshake.

*^*

@mogaruke @dontshootmespence  @mrswhozeewhatsis @smi727 @sassykayla255 @supernaturalboi @dumbthotticus @eve05glee @veroinnumera @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @fanfictionrecommendations-com @soullesscollection-world

Next Chapter: Case of the Weak Part A

#dean winchester #moc!dean #dean x reader #spn #moc!dean x demon!reader #supernatural #demon!reader #spn fanfic #dark fic #dean x female oc #dean x female vessel #known series #dean fanfic series #spn dark fic #dean x cc #the first blade #blood #violence #death #self harm #possession #demon possession

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

spn 14.20

it certainly seems like getting an end-date has galvanised supernatural--this finale is the best season finale that i’ve seen since s8 (not that it’s a very high bar to clear; imo, the finales from s9 to s13 were increasingly limp, broadening the scope of future enemies but feeling shallow and dreary and inconsequential). don’t get me wrong--there were the usual distressing-if-fascinating character dynamics, but the finale also did unusual distressing-if-fascinating things, so. there’s that.

SPOILERS AHEAD.

1. jack searching for external validation now that sam and dean (and as far as he knew in the beginning of the episode, castiel) have effectively rejected him was heartbreaking, even if sam and dean didn’t face any real consequences for manipulating and tricking jack. (i guess you could say that jack (potentially) going nuclear on the world in taking out his frustration at samndean is a consequence, but that doesn’t even come close to happening, and samndean are never directly confronted with their deception from the previous episode. i guess s15 could still deal with it, but i doubt it.)

1.5. jack continues to express remorse and signs of (understandable) naivete and an ongoing struggle to control his instincts rather than the cold deliberation of facts and a cheerful lack of empathy that we were told characterises the soulless. robo!sam was willing to work with dean to retrieve his soul--right up until the point where not one, but two opposing entities told him the process of resouling would endanger his very existence. that doesn’t square with the jack who, understanding that dean would never forgive him, drops to his knees to be executed without saying a word. burning off his soul hasn’t really changed the way jack organises his moral universe, or his instincts to be validated by sam and dean, even after they’ve been unimaginably cruel to him. 

2. what is actually horrifying to watch is dean (and sam, but he does at least resist towards the end) bracing himself to kill yet another ‘family’ member who’s crossed a line. there’s a creaky familiarity to it (”at least he dies human!” from s4, going ahead with resouling even if it killed sam in s6, plotting to kill sam after gadreel kills kevin and makes away with sam in s9, the times he decided castiel wasn’t deserving of life, like in the beginning of s7) that’s more chilling than any overt expression of murderous intent. sprawled on a chair in a dark room knocking back whiskey, contemplating murder to both avenge the world and save it. again. 

2.5. every moment felt pregnant with the possibility that now would be the moment sam would finally stand up to dean’s nonsense and go out and appeal to jack to try and save him, much like he did with godstiel in the beginning of s7. when it finally happened, it was too little and too late. not thrilled with the idea that sam has once again failed to stand up for jack in any meaningful way, but i do understand where it’s coming from. still don’t like it tho.

2.8. i giggled at the “equaliser” inflicting the wounds it causes back on its wielder: to kill somebody with it, you’d have to die too. what a perfect weapon for dean, who’s only all too willing to see his murder of jack a brutal but noble act that he must martyr himself to perform. 

3. chuck. oh, chuck. first of all, i feel absolutely vindicated for having this as my official chuck tag. secondly, chuck as a self-absorbed writer-dude who just upends the whole goddamn table when he’s Called Out for his bullshit and walking off in a huff is just hilarious. thirdly, while i find some of what Show is doing with chuck clever, i also think that they’re trying to have their cake and eat it too?

3.25. the idea that chuck’s the one that’s been throwing obstacle after tragedy after obstacle the winchesters’ way because he wanted to prolong his “favourite show” and things coming to a head between him and his characters now that we know s15 is going to be the last season is actually kinda clever. chuck has always been how the Show spoke to its audience, and while i usually side-eye Show’s meta shenanigans, i quite liked it here.

3.5. HOWEVER. this distracts from the actual choices these characters have made, and the consequence of those choices. the show cannot fundamentally live with itself: its premise and its characters have been at odds with each other right from the beginning. in several seasons, the ideological divide between the brothers have teased both resolution and revolution, but the show chickens out by providing yet another ~evil entity for the brothers to unite against and put their differences aside for another season. s7 honestly felt like it was revamping the very look of spn before s8+ went on to pretend like it never happened. s8 built and built the tension between samndean before deciding that the trials/closing hell was more important. most egregiously, s9 and early s10 really had me fooled into thinking sam and dean were going to seriously reconsider their relationship and bring in changes, but all of that was thrown to the wayside for the mark of cain storyline and culminating in a s10 finale where a bloodied and beaten sam offered himself up for execution by his brother. 

3.6. chuck as a personification of this maintenance of the status quo by throwing foe after external foe at the winchesters then is just... the Show kicking the extremely large and unwieldy ball of Issues To Be Addressed further down the road. in fact, the show now has an excuse to not address them at all and pretend that the show’s true culmination, its natural conclusion, is Team Free Will doing some hardcore Free-Willing against the manipulative machinations of god himself. 

4. on a lighter note, i really liked the ending, sam’s jacket is fantastic, and i look forward to billie reaping the fuck out of chuck next season. 

#supernatural #spn spoilers #season 14 #sam winchester #jack kline #samndean #fuck chuck #meta

[cherry3point14]

ALONE | BUMPED HER HEAD AND BRUISED HER SOUL

DESCRIPTION: You can’t begin to believe how close you were to death, or how much you wouldn’t have cared to go. 

SERIES MASTERLIST

[Chapter One takes place before EP5 of S9. Eventual Dean x Reader. Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader, OFC (Readers Sister) Warnings: light violence I guess. Also, there’s talk of a butt for one whole line]

It might be the drinks you've been sipping for the past few hours or the fact that you haven't eaten much of the meal in front of you, but either way you wink at your little sister and mutter under your breath as the waiter walks away, "bounce a nickel off that thing, right?"

She wrinkles her nose at you but there's laughter in her eyes, "you're such a perv."

You both suddenly dissolve into fits of giggles, like you have since you were kids when forming an in-joke or planning a masterful prank. You have matching laugh lines around your eyes as you laugh, and it ends with you both falling back against the leather booth seats and waggling your eyebrows at each other. You're not sure there's a better sound in the world than you both laughing together like this.

Even though you've spent the last few days with your sister, while you visit her and her new apartment, it feels like it's been years. It feels like long enough that your heart aches for seeing her again and you want nothing more than to soak up every second. When you'd first seen her, you'd felt like something was off, but you'd ignored it just as quickly because she was there in front of you. Her eyes sparkling, her hair wet from the shower and her sweatpants as ragged and worn as they had always been.

Now you're sitting in this tiny restaurant days later and nothing had changed. You were still constantly struck by the need to greedily hoard every joke and memorize every expression. It was a weirdness she had been constantly calling you out on, but you had no explanation. You'd just stare at her all doe-eyed and tell her you'd missed her.

"So this guy…" you begin almost feigning indifference. Almost.

She rolls her shoulders like the question might roll off her back with enough effort, a habit of hers you'd forgotten, "I'm just not ready for you to meet him and give him the third degree is all."

You scoff into your glass, hiding a grin, "I am not that bad."

"Not that bad? Not that… you do remember what happened to Scott, the poor schlub who actually dared ask me to prom?" She eyes you suspiciously like you're planning a repeat performance.

You remembered well enough. You, being five years older than your dear sister, had shown up at school to pick her up the following day, found the boy in question, and then proceeded to give him a very detailed lecture that touched on feminism, respect, and your sisters right to choose her prom date. But that also included your right to choose where to bury him if she came home upset or assaulted in any way. What Sophie hadn’t understood at the time was you weren’t just her sister, you were as much her mother and father too. 

You held up your hands in mock defeat, "so I was… overprotective. I'm practically a different person now."

And the strange thing was you were different, but you couldn't explain why. All you knew is that there was an insufferable gnawing in the pit of your stomach, like an itch you couldn't quite reach. You were older and wiser, but your sister? She was just the same as she had been years ago. It should have been off-putting that she'd remained a snapshot of a personality frozen in time while you had changed with the years, except you refused to see it. Instead, you allowed yourself to be convinced her new charmed life was the same as growth. The job she always wanted, the decent sized apartment not far from work, and now the so-called perfect guy. Well, the perfect guy she wouldn't introduce you to.

You reached out your hand across the table, like so many other times this weekend, suddenly needing physical contact with her. You ran your thumb over her knuckles drawing her in for a serious moment, "but promise me, next time I'm in town? I swear I'll be nice, I just want you to be happy."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry. I can't keep him away from my best big sister for too long."

"I'm your only big sister," you reminded, acting offended by drawing your hand back and placing it over your chest.

She raised her glass to your mocking, "wouldn't have it any other way, sis."

After a little more teasing about her mystery man, asking if he was the one and making sure he was treating her right, you decided to call it quits on the evening since it could only last so long. There was no way you were going to finish the food in front of you. The thought of eating it and letting it bloat you any further made you feel sick to even consider it. Not when you could feel the alcohol in your system buzzing away and, along with your sister's presence, it all made you feel light enough to float away if no one held on to you. It was one of those perfect early summer evenings. Warm enough that you didn't need a jacket but not so humid that everything felt sticky. How you'd got this lucky to be spending an evening like this you didn't know and frankly, you didn't want to question it.

You lured over the waiter again with what you thought was a charming smile but likely looked ridiculous on account of the alcohol in your system. "Can we get the check please?" you hummed. 

"You're already paying for a hotel room instead of staying with me, at least let me buy you dinner!" She whined suddenly giving you a flashback to her as a child. All pigtails and high-pitched squeals.

"Nah uh, short stack." You teased as you waved your card at the returning waiter.

It was after signing the receipt when you stood up and reached for your bag, that you noticed the hazy quality of the street lamps you could see through the windows. They were almost blurry and not in the you've-had-too-much-to drink way. Like there was something wrong with them like they were made of the wrong stuff or…

"Move it, some of us have work tomorrow." Sophie bumped your shoulder with hers snapping you back from wherever your mind wandered to. It was just the glass distorting the light, you decided. Although you made a conscious effort not to look at the lights again when you got outside, instead slipping an arm into Sophie's and hurrying her in the direction of the waiting taxi. Like you didn't want to risk finding out something wasn't right about the evening.

In the back of the cab, you laughed a few more times and made rushed plans for the 4th of July before the car stopped outside of an impressive apartment building, "text me when you're home," you insisted as she slipped out onto the sidewalk.

She pulled a face at you as you rolled down the window, and grandly gestured behind her, "erm, it's right there."

You rolled your eyes, "you know what I mean. When you're home and the door is locked. You know, when you're inside your home dummy."

"You're such a weirdo."

"Your favorite weirdo. Love you!" You nodded to the driver that he could carry on to your destination.

"Yeah love you too. Text me when you're inside your LOCKED hotel room, freak!" she called after the car as it pulled away. 

Your lips stretched into a grin as you sunk back into yet another seat, comfier than any taxi you remember but then again this was the city, maybe things were just nicer here. You lived outside of a small town across the country so you probably couldn't compare expectations for public transportation.

The breeze from the window you'd left open whirled about you as the cab rounded corners and avenues. You couldn't help smiling to yourself, amused by the cool air whipping your hair around your face, as a child might be.

"Do you want me to close that?" the driver asked into his rear-view mirror, unable to see your face and gauge if it was bothering you.

"Nah, I'm good." And you were. Really good. Comfortable. Happy and—

Cold. Why were you so cold?

Why was everything so much darker than you remembered? Your arms were heavy above you and your wrists stung from keeping your body suspended above the floor. The toes of your boots barely able to reach the concrete below. And that's when it happened. The flood of realization that you weren't, in fact, sitting in a comfortable cab on a warm summer evening but you were surrounded by darkness and a world of monsters. Something sharp was buried in your neck and you could hear movement. The weight of stormy footsteps and muffled voices.

That's when they appeared. One of them, the offensively tall one, immediately started working on the ropes that bound you to the ceiling while the shorter one, although still taller than you, lifted your head with the crook of his finger to take note of your fluttering eyelids while he gently pulled the IV needle from your neck. They were all sharp jawlines and strong eyes the pair of them. Close enough to be the only things in focus among the blurry world that was still coming back to you.

"She's alive, must have snapped out of it when we killed the son of a bitch. We've gotta get her out of here." He commanded his friend.

Your throat felt like it was burning, like sandpaper against a stone, and you rubbed at your neck to try to ease the feeling once your arms swung free from the ceiling, "both of them?"

"What?" they snapped in unison, surprised that you were even speaking.

"You killed both of them?" you croaked again but you didn't need to wait for their answer because you could see it now. A flash in the darkness, two glowing blue eyes appeared from nowhere and began approaching the three of you bringing on waves of Déjà vu.  Flashes of the hunt, finding the place, the dead girls, and nearly killing one of them only to be caught in their trap.

But both the men in front of you were seemingly unaware of the approaching danger while they focused on your face.  

You were weaker than normal. Drained of not just your blood but a vast amount of your strength, still your reactions were no less impressive in the face of impending danger. You yanked the blood-soaked knife from the man who had cut you down and elbowed the guy in front of you before launching yourself forward with every possible ounce of energy you had left. A grunt echoed off the walls for your effort, the noise catapulting you forward as much as the adrenaline until you felt the satisfying contact. The Djinn's face frozen in shock as his meal turned into his demise.

The blade dug into his chest but burrowed deeper into his heart as you fell forward, the weight of your body landing on top of the parasite with your hands trapped between you, still wrapped around the handle of the knife. For a moment you didn't breathe. You were motionless enough laying on top of him that you might be dead. Watching his face closely with your own, waiting for any sign that you hadn't killed the bastard.

When you were finally satisfied you rolled sideways off of the now dead Djinn and gasped for air or hope, anything. Reeling in the truth that nothing had been real. Not your well-adjusted sister with her hopes and dreams or your arguably boring life as a mildly popular newspaper columnist, hidden in a cabin away from the world. No. She was still as dead as she had been before the Djinn sent you off to wonderland and you were still living a lonely and dangerous life hunting the scum you didn't even want on the bottom of your shoe.

That’s when you realized you were shaking. You'd almost allowed it. You'd been so happy to stay there watching her grow up that you ignored every red flag. There had been no fight in you, nothing tethering you to this reality full of violence and hard decisions. And now you'd been dragged back here, forced to carry on living, knowing what you could have had back there. You don't need to say it out loud to know the truth, you'd have happily died there, just like those girls before you.

But there was no time for the tears that threatened to spill over your cheeks, there was never time. You felt two pairs of strong hands lift you up as gently as possible. Gripping you and barely touching you at the same time.

"So you're a hunter?" the shorter one asked.

All you managed to grumble before the blood rushing to your head made everything dark again was, "good guess Columbo."

Continue to Chapter Two

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural reader insert #reader insert #spn #spn reader insert #spn x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #spn fanfic #sam winchester #alone: a spn story #probably needs more editing #but yolo amirite?

[dustydreamsanddirtyscars]

8x17 “Goodbye Stranger” // 9x06 “Heaven Can’t Wait” // 10x22 “The Prisoner” Of Humanity, Mirroring and Broken Bones

Posted as part of the Series “Of Blood, Bone and Darkness”: A Carver Era Rewatch Hiatus Meta-Series

This post basically follows and builds on the thoughts expressed in these two entries prior in the series, in which I already talked about the parallels existing between Ephraim as a riet-a-zien and literal “Angel of Death” and Dean under the influence of the MoC (they are also conveniently wrapped in similar clothing - because the dark shirt and dark blue jacket Ephraim sports are key clothing items like the “red shirt of doom” and Dean’s “dark blue jacket of slef loathing and loss of self/control” that come into play time and again throughout the MOC arc like for example when Dean takes on the mark in 9x11 “First Born”...

...or when he faces Amara in S11 and practically loses his agency completely to her will)

as well as Amara’s sales pitch to Dean about a world of bliss in S11 (which yes, *sighs, cause I just hate how Dabb done away with all the storylines that existed up unitl S12 and how decided to go on with them grrrrr* seems to be exactly what Dabb repeated with the nephilim andthe visions of the future it implanted inot Castiel’s and his mother’s head) and how it all ties together through the aspect of emotion/psychological pain.

Now, what I liked about Carver Era are the clever things like you can see in 9x06 “Heaven Can’t Wait”, because the aspect of emotional/psychological pain overlaps with the physical kind of pain and how on the one hand what we see play out in 9x06 “ Heaven Can’t Wait” serves as both a callback, but also a piece of foreshadowing for what’s to come. Essentially 9x06 “Heaven Can’t Wait” to me serves as a stepping stone between 8x17 “Goodbye Stranger” in which we see Castiel mind-controlled by Naomi and forced to kill Dean while Dean tries to get through to Castiel and clearly being emotionally distraught over the fact that “Cas isn’t Cas”. In that crypt scene confrontation Dean’s emotional/psychological pain or “on-edge-ness” overlaps with the violence he is subjected to, so that the inner pain gets matched with a physical quality when we see Castiel first breaks Dean’s arm/hand and then proceeding to beat him up in the worst possible ways imaginable. Of course in the end Cas manages to stop himself when Naomi gives him an ultimatum to decide between angeldom and humanity, which Dean on this show has always been the absolute epitome of (while at the same time being also the ultimate stand in for the divine, but I will not get into Dean as a christ figure yet again lol, I’ve writter plenty on that already). So yes, he stops because of Dean, he sides with humanity and with Dean in that moment.

And it is that choice between Heaven and humanity that is directly and head on revisited one season later in 9x06 “Heaven Can’t Wait” when Ephraim enters the picture. In a season which Castiel grows progressively more human (like Crowley as well) while Dean “falls” from humanity and ends up coming back from the dead as a demon in the season finale, it is important to take a look at the final confrontation between Castiel and Ephraim, because here too like in 8x17 “Goodbye Stranger” emotional/psychological pain is paired with and overlaps with the physical kind of pain (which is almost ironic given the fact that supposedly the riet-a-zien killed in a way that rendered death virtually painless. Well, for an angel that want to relieve people’s pain he sure likes inflicting it as well - of course it’s partially due to the role Cas played in the angels’ fall, but still...) when Ephraim in a very similar motion as Cas one season prior twists Castiel’s arm and seems to break his arm/hand and then proceeds to ask Castiel the same question as Naomi did by wanting to know if he wants to continue living as an angel or a human. Silent storytelling is a thing of beauty, because Castiel never answers and yet the audience gets the answer loud and clear since Dean just seconds later crashes through the door and once more serves as the stand in for humanity, which Castiel has always sided with when push came to shove.

As I pointed out above MoC!Dean and Ephraim are aligned rather neatly clothing as well as narrative wise in this episode in a sense of set up for what is to come for Dean much further down the line. So that when we get tp 10x22 “The Prisoner” not only does the confrontation between Dean and Castiel and the bunker mirror the crypt scene, but also heavily relates to 9x06 “Heaven Can’t Wait”, because not only once again choreography wise the fight between Dean and Castiel starts with Dean twisting Castiel’s arm around and possibly coming close to breaking his arm/hand which directly calls back to both prior episodes and confrontation between Dean and Cas and Ephraim and Cas, but we also yet again have another moment of emotional/pscholigcal pain overlapping or being matched with a physical quality since Castiel expresses to Dean that he would be the one to have to “watch him murder the world”  (which at least to some extent does indeed resonate with Dean as his face in that moment visibly shows conflicting emotions) and clearly being distraught over that fact and not being alright with letting Dean controlled and consumed by the MOC disappapear (like Dean didn’t give up to try and get through to Cas) as a person. As we know, much like Cas under the influence of Naomi nearly killed Dean, so Dean similarly also only in last instance refrains from killing Cas - possibly because Cas reminded him of his own humanity. But it is the way Dean is standing over Cas, angel blade in hand, ready to strike that calls back not only to Castiel  in 8x17 “Goodybe Stranger”, but also to Ephraim in 9x06 “Heaven Can’t Wait” (Dean’s mirror) who went after Cas to relieve him from his pain with an angel blade pointed at Cas’ chest just like Dean does in 10x22 “The Prisoner”.

And when I think about those parallels I kind of have to wonder if Dean maybe in some fashion even when the mark had such a strong hold over him (though most of Dean’s aggression and hate really was directed at himself as the S10 finale spells out rather directly) may have thought it easier and much less painful for Cas having to suffer to see him like this. It is by no means a very obvious parallel one could draw, but I really had to think of this option especially in light of Tessa’s story and journey later in S9 where she thanks Dean when she basically pushes herself into the blade and by that committing suicide. After all she too - and this is where it gets clear how much of a running theme the aspect of psychologcial/physical pain has been throughout Carver Era and how cleverly it was worked into the narrative - was “in pain”, because she heard so many lost souls in pain that she was unable to deliver onto Heaven. And well, I guess reapers indeed are also considered the “Angels of Death” and with that possibly not that far from the riet-a-zien...

#deanedit #Dean love club #Deancas #SPN Meta #Supernatural Meta #Dean Winchester Meta #Castiel Meta #Deancas Meta #though minus overtly romantic reading #but with a heavy focus on narrative structure and themes such as #Pain #Loss of self #Loss of control #Loss of agency #Death #Depression #Angel of Death #Reapers #Riet-a-zien #Parallels #Mirrors #Visual an narrative callbacks #bloodboneanddarkness #Dusty Gifs #Gif Meta #8x17gif #9x06gif #10x22gif #Queued

[wanderingcas]

I wish you'd write a fic where Dean finds Castiel's diary from the time he was human (and it's heart wrenching) ❤️

Anon, you just love angst don’t you. (this is set in an ambiguous time around s9-ish)

It’s not something Dean means to find. 

He knows that, because it’s shoved underneath the passenger seat of Cas’s old car with various bottles of water and crumpled up trash sprawled over it. 

Dean just wanted to clean out Cas’s Continental; a way to get Cas feeling a bit better about the world, about the fact that he is walking around with stolen grace and after having been through a shitty bender of being human. Dean thinks that he can help from ridding Cas of a little clutter. 

So, even though he doesn’t mean to find it, he bumps against it as he is sticking his hand under the seat, fishing for garbage to dispose of. 

It’s a journal; with worn leather and a string wrapped around it to keep it closed. Dean picks it up, and opens to the first page. 

He abandoned me, says the first line. In Cas’s rough cursive handwriting.

Yeah, Dean was definitely not meant to find this. 

He shoves it into his jacket pocket, dutifully finishing his task of cleaning the truck. Resolutely ignoring the fact that something very important and very personal is sitting heavy against his chest.

Dean ignores reading it as long as he can; tries to convince himself that he’ll just leave it where he found it, or give it to Cas and advise him to find a better place to hide his personal belongings. 

Cas is such a private person–well, a private angel. Half the time Dean isn’t fully convinced that Cas is telling the whole story of what is going through his head. If he could just have a little insight. A little clarity into what Cas really was experiencing; why he seemed convinced to be Atlas and always have the world on his shoulders.

In his bedroom, after staring at the worn leather for a good half an hour, Dean cracks open the worn pages. 

He abandoned me. 

Dean takes a steady breath and reads on.

It all seemed like it would be okay. Of course, me turning human isn’t ideal - but I thought I could at least do research, maybe get trained in hunting if only a little. I thought I could still be service to the fight. Be of service to Dean. 

But he abandoned me.  

Dean presses his face into his palms. He should not be reading this. He should not. If this is about him, he has no right. 

After an inner crisis that lasts for five more minutes, Dean reads on.

For the longest time, I have served God. It was my purpose. Somehow, Dean became my purpose, but I don’t mind it. I’m always happy to serve Dean, and Sam. But now that I’m on my own, without anyone to serve but myself, I am at such a loss. I help Nora with various tasks around the gas station; but it’s not the same. I don’t feel like I’m serving a purpose that matters. God mattered, once. Dean still certainly matters. And yet I can’t serve either. 

Dean skims ahead, turning a few pages into the journal. He reads an entry that is dated the day after Dean came to visit Cas.

Sometimes we can’t help the things that happen to us. Sometimes horrible things happen, beyond our control. I know why Dean kicked me out of the bunker; it was a way to save Sam. I don’t know why, but it was. I know that Dean acted callous and abrupt because he is afraid of showing vulnerable emotion; and I know that it’s difficult for him to let people down. 

Despite the situations Dean and I find ourselves in, where one of us is forced to hurt the other or make it difficult for each other in some way, my feelings never change.

He abandoned me. I was rejected by God, by all of Heaven, and then him. But unlike God, and unlike the angels I used to serve, I still love him.

Father help me, why do I still love him.

Dean drops the journal like it’s a hot poker. He stumbles to his feet and paces his room, running his fingers through his hair. This was the worst invasion of someone’s privacy - of Cas’s privacy - and he did it without more than a few minute’s hesitation. 

Now he can’t erase the words searing his brain: I still love him.

Dean huffs a humorless laugh and sits at the edge of the bed, head in his hands. But Cas wrote this years ago - it can’t still be true. After all the shit Dean has dealt to him, after all the things Cas has gone through, he must realize now how untrue that love is. How undeserving Dean is of that love in the first place.

Snatching the journal from the bed, Dean stomps into the bunker’s library. Cas is hunched over a thick book, hands tangled in his messy dark hair, his trench coat crumpled. He raises surprised blue eyes in Dean’s direction. There are dark circles under them, like bruises. 

“Dean,” he says with surprise. 

How could Dean not see it? How stupid could he be? “Cas,” Dean says, his voice not much more than a croak.

Cas frowns, eyes flickering to Dean’s hands. His face pales. “Oh.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean asks hoarsely.

“You -” Cas’s voice catches. He straightens his back and shuts the book in front of him calmly. “You didn’t need to read that. It’s over. I got the message.”

“Fuck.” Dean stumbles toward Cas’s chair, crouching before Cas. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Cas says, eyes steadily looking forward, away from Dean.

“I needed to know - “

“No!” Cas glares into Dean’s eyes, expression stormy. “You never needed to be burdened with that. With me.”

“Cas, you idiot.” Dean clutches at Cas’s coat, like it’s a lifeline. “If you told me - if you had so much as indicated - “ He takes a shaky breath. “I love you too. Despite our shitty circumstances, despite the fucked-up situations we find ourselves in that make us hurt each other - I love you too.”

Cas slowly blinks at Dean, processing his words. He frames Dean’s face with his hands, and leans forward to press his forehead against Dean’s. “You abandoned me,” he whispers. 

“I never will again,” is all Dean can manage breathlessly as he catches Castiel’s lips with his own to melt into an endless, lovely kiss. 

send me a “I wish you’d right a fic where…”

#anon ask #*shrugs* #wanted to make this longer but i gotta feed my cat and write lexi's fic now #destieldrabblesdaily #destielonfire