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dothwrites · 4 years

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15.08 coda--made in the heart

There is no such thing as a ‘broken family’. Family is family, and is not determined by marriage certificates, divorce records, or adoption papers. Families are made in the heart. The only time family becomes null is when those ties in the heart are cut. If you cut those ties, those people are not your family. If you make those ties, those people are your family. And if you hate those ties, those people will still be your family because whatever you hate will always be with you.--C. Joybell C.

---

Castiel stares at the flickering, golden light of the portal. It beckons him forward the same time as the bunker beckons him to stay.

If you want to stay that badly, then stay.

Every time he thinks that he’s made headway, every time some of the ice cracks around his heart--Dean seems to sense that, comes in swinging with his words like weapons, honed to the perfect edge to cut him to ribbons. At this point, every interaction with Dean, even the neutral ones, have the potential to leave him bleeding.

“We need to hurry,” he says, never taking his eyes off the rip. “We only have twelve hours.”

Dean makes an awkward stutter-step towards the rift, towards him, before he stops. “We need to wait for Sam and Eileen. They can help us or at the very least, keep the rift open from the other side.”

Castiel takes another step closer to the rift. This close, he can almost smell it, the dank, rotten woods scent of Purgatory. That scent lingered in his nostrils long after he found himself back in the real world. That scent was ingrained into his skin for months after he was walking the earth once more. Even now, it beckons to him with a sick, twisted claw.

Through that rift is the flower which can help them bind Chuck. Through that rift lies the means of getting justice for his boy. Castiel won’t let anything stop him-not Eileen, not Sam, and certainly not Dean Winchester.

“Then stay and wait. I’m going.”

Castiel turns his back on Dean and steps towards the rift. Behind him, he can hear Dean shouting at him--Cas, you stupid son of a bitch, just wait for a goddamned minute, wait until Sam gets back, you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, Cas WAIT--

Castiel steps through the portal. Warmth, the bunker, Dean’s voice--They all disappear. The only thing left is the grey, bleached bone hue of Purgatory and the overwhelming sense of hostility pressing against him from all sides.

Castiel has no idea what a Leviathan blossom looks like. He has no idea where to find one. He has no idea what awaits him, only that it’s likely unpleasant.

Castiel picks a direction and starts walking.

---

After Cas leaves, Dean is frozen. All he can do is stare at the rift, at the place where Cas disappeared.

He should know by now, that Cas always walks away. Between the two of them, Cas is always the first to leave.

He needs to wait for Sam. Twelve hours is nothing, compared to the vast plains of Purgatory. Dean knows--he was there for a year and he knows he came nowhere close to finding the edges of Purgatory. He needs Sam to hold the rift open, on the wild off-chance that they haven’t managed to find a single flower in that span of time.

He needs to wait for Sam.

Cas’ face, when he turned back to the rift--Like he’d already said goodbye, except Dean never heard the words, never felt that kind of closure--he’s never had that kind of closure with Cas, never been able to shove all of his feelings into a neat little box, close the lid, and walk away. Something’s always been unsaid between them.

Cas’ hand, shaking over his, close enough that he could feel the regular, human warmth of his skin, but not touching. Cas’ face as he turned away, resentful, hurt, and fearful, like he was worried what Dean would do to him. The way that Cas hasn’t been able to be in a room with him for longer than five minutes.

He needs to wait for Sam.

He needs--

“God damn it,” Dean snarls, already running towards his room to get his weapons.

---

An angel in Purgatory doesn’t go unnoticed for long.

Not surprisingly, it’s the Leviathans who find him first.

Castiel feels them before he sees them--ancient, implacable.

Hungry.

Just two, but Leviathans were a formidable opponent when he still had all his grace. Diminished as he is--Castiel hefts his angel blade and reaches for the little bit of grace still flickering dimly inside him.

The Leviathans appear in a meteor of black goo, their mouths already split into identical grins. “Look who we found,” the first one, a non-descript man, says.

“Castiel,” the second Leviathan, a woman, croons. “We thought we’d seen the last of you.” Her eyes flick up and down his body. “You’re looking good enough to eat.”

Castiel doesn’t bother trying to talk his way out. The Leviathans might know the him of years past, but they still know him. They already know his fear; no doubt they can smell it on the air. There’s nothing he can hide from them.

All that remains is to fight.

It’s an uneven battle from the beginning--one seraphim against two Leviathan was always doomed to failure. But Castiel tries as hard as he can, the memory of Jack’s last scream echoing in his mind fueling his increasingly desperate motions.

It ends. Maybe not as quickly as the Leviathans were expecting, but with the same outcome.

Castiel lays on the ground, pinned, the female’s hand around his throat. “We’ve been waiting so long for you to come back,” she murmurs, throwing her head back. Her face splits, revealing rows and rows of teeth, and this is how it ends, him failing in Purgatory, alone with some of his greatest fears--

Black blood spatters over Castiel’s face as the top half of the woman’s head disappears. He’s frozen in shock, but only for a second, before he’s rolling. Blade in hand, he moves on the male Leviathan. His blade flashes through the air, sending his head rolling.

Castiel twists, looking for--He doesn’t know what he’s looking for (Dean, his heart sings, a joyful chorus, Dean, he’s always looking for Dean), but he certainly doesn’t expect what he finds.

“Well, Feathers, I never thought that I’d be seeing you here again,” Benny drawls, blade propped on his shoulder.

---

Purgatory welcomes Dean back like he never left.

It’s intoxicating, the whiff of death and rot that he gets the second he steps through the portal. Within the first moments of being there, Dean feels something crack open in his chest--layers of bullshit, of guilt, human trappings being shed like regrets.

In his darkest of hearts, Dean can admit that he missed the clarity that came from Purgatory.

He finds it now, the obsidian blade heavy on his shoulder as he walks through the undergrowth. He can hear the rustlings of creatures, but none dare to accost him--perhaps his legend remains after all this time.

He doesn’t have the first fucking clue of what a Leviathan blossom is. As far as he can tell, nothing really grows in Purgatory. Everything is in a mild state of decay. He can’t find a bit of ground that isn’t covered by some layer of slimy, molding leaves. He’s just beginning to think that this whole thing was a waste of time--Michael’s getting his revenge after years of neglect--when he hears the sounds of a fight.

Dean’s heart immediately stutters in his chest--Cas, he thinks, fear and horror in his chest, Cas--And he’s running before he knows what he’s doing, before he has a chance to even think about a plan.

It was always easier in Purgatory, to shed all the bullshit trappings. Purgatory pares everything down to the essentials and right now, all that matters is Cas, and the fact that Cas might be in trouble--

His heart leaps into his throat when he sees Cas on the ground, Leviathan’s mouth poised to take a chomp--And then...And then...

Dean carries the weight of Benny around his neck like he carries the weight of all his fallen comrades, his family, those that he wasn’t able to save. Benny, however, stays closer to his heart, pulls him down a little farther. To see him here--Whole, laughing, going so far as to reach out and prod at Cas’ shoulder--Dean bursts out of the undergrowth and into the meadow before he can stop himself. Benny and Cas whirl around, blades at the ready at the sound. When he sees who it is, Benny lowers his blade.

Cas doesn’t.

“Hey brother,” Benny greets him, arms already opening in a hug. And for everything surrounding them, Dean hugs back, awash in the simple physical sensation of comfort, if only for a moment.

Benny pulls back, looks between him and Cas, and Dean can already see his mind working, the wheels turning, the addition happening. It’s a complicated equation that has to put Dean+Castiel together in such a way as to not end up with the final product of Dean and Castiel.

“You hunting more big-mouths?” is all Benny asks.

Dean’s eyes flick automatically to Cas, a reflex ingrained through years. He looks to Cas, knowing that Cas will be looking back, because Cas is always looking back--Cas stares straight ahead at the wilderness of Purgatory, like he could force it to give up its secrets with the sheer force of his will.

“We’re looking for a flower,” Dean says, ripping his eyes away from Cas and bringing them back to Benny. “We need it to...Well, it’s a long damn story, but we need a Leviathan blossom.”

Benny’s eyebrows quirk upward. “And what do you need one of those for?”

Dean almost laughs. He yearns for the simplicity of the days when all they had to do was hunt Leviathans or close the gates of Hell. When their enemies were clear and defined and had weaknesses and strengths. When you could just point Dean in a direction, tell him to kill something, and afterward, he could have a beer. When he wasn’t fighting the world and his own stupid brain and the lingering sensation that along the way, he’s irrevocably fucked up.

“Like I said,” he begins, picking up his blade off the ground. “It’s a long story. You know where any are?”

“I ain’t a damn florist,” Benny begins, but starts walking in a definite direction anyway, “but I just might know where you can get this little flower.”

Glancing at Cas, who isn’t looking back, Dean follows.

---

It’s always easier in Purgatory.

Stripped of the need to sleep or eat, with survival as the only law, priorities become clearer. Pure, Dean had called it. At the time he’d meant that he’d turned into a machine, the perfect soldier, the perfect killer, but he doesn’t wonder if he’d also meant something else. Because in Purgatory, Dean looks easier, breathes easier, wants easier.

In Purgatory, Dean doesn’t pretend that he doesn’t want Cas.

Last time it led to him tearing a bloody path through the place looking for Cas, flinging prayers into the ether every night in the vain hope that Cas would hear him and come back. This time, it leads to him looking, staring, the same way that Cas used to look at him. Shameless, longing. On the occasions where Benny’s eyes follow his look, Dean doesn’t pretend to be ashamed, doesn’t drop his gaze in mock coyness.

Dean is running out of reasons why he’s angry at Cas, which is bad, because if he does that, then all that’s left will be regret.

Benny tells them that they’re going towards a swamp, where the only flowers that he knows of thrive. Dean follows, for lack of any other plan. And Cas...Cas follows Dean, and if Dean deliberately unfocuses his mind, he can pretend that it’s just like old times, him and Cas and Benny tramping their merry way through Purgatory, when the only thing they had to do was survive.

They’ve moved so far beyond that--Dean doesn’t want to survive, he wants to thrive. He sees it now, reflected back to him in the mossy undergrowth and half-dead plants. He doesn’t want to live from hunt to hunt, monster to monster, always something breathing down his back. He wants to stop, if only for a moment. Wants there to be a reason worth stopping.

Cas. Cas is the reason, Cas is all the reasons.

It was always easier, in Purgatory.

---

They don’t go unnoticed.

Just like old times, traveling with an angel, even a weakened one, is enough to draw plenty of eyes their way. There are plenty of little skirmishes along the way, fights that are won with little difficulty. Between the three of them, they make quick work of anything unlucky enough or stupid enough to venture across their path.

It’s after one of these fights, when Dean and Benny are flicking the blood off their blades and Cas is standing on the periphery, doing whatever the fuck he does in Purgatory, that Benny leans in close.

“So should I ask what’s gong on between you two?”

There was a time that Dean could hide everything from the world. There was a time that no one knew what he was thinking. Now...Rowena, Adam, Benny...apparently he’s an open fucking book for anyone who cares to come along and flip through the pages.

“It’s fine,” Dean says shortly, because Benny might be one of the best friends he’s ever had, but there are some things that are just too close to the heart for Dean to talk about.

Benny scoffs, a rueful smile on his face. “Brother, the last time you were here, you tore this place a new one looking for that angel. And now...The hell happened between you that y’all can’t even look at each other? The hell is so bad that you’re gonna let him come back here alone?”

Shame curls hot in Dean’s gut. Hell, Purgatory, Heaven--how many places has he flung Cas into, alone, just for his sake? How many times has Cas gone, all for the reason that Dean asked him? How many times has Cas demanded that Dean return the favor, that Dean give up something, anything, for him?

“We’ve got to keep moving,” Dean says gruffly. “There’s a time limit on that portal and I don’t have the time to find another one.”

---

They find a flower. Whether or not it’s a Leviathan blossom remains unknown, but it’s a fucking flower, and It’s Purgatory, so Dean snatches it. He snatches several, just to be on the safe side. They’re a vicious, vibrant purple, one that seems unnatural in the already unnatural dim light of Purgatory. They’re rimmed with a dull yellow and, when Dean gets too close, give off a sickly sweet scent that would turn his stomach if he’d let it.

For all that he was chomping at the bit to get to this point, Cas watches Dean pocket the flowers with no words spoken. Dean doesn’t think that they’ve said more than three sentences to each other the entire time that they’ve been here. Part of that is Benny, acting as a natural buffer between them, but part of that is them, the sick poison that’s crept between them, corroding everything in its path until they’re hanging on by a single, rusted thread.

They’re silent as they walk back towards the portal. Dean is jittery in his skin--no way that it was this easy, no fucking way--Where’s the ticking clock, where’s the monsters descending upon them, where are the obstacles put up in front of them just to make them dance? But it appears like it is that easy, at least for the moment.

“What are your plans?” Dean finally asks Benny. Even though it was Benny’s choice to stay behind in Purgatory, he’s never quite given up that guilt, never been able to absolve himself of seeing his friend’s head roll on the ground. “We’ve got a portal. No restrictions apply.”

Benny scuffs the ground with his toe. “It sounds nice,” he admits, before he looks at Dean. “But you know the same problems will just be there waiting for me. Plus, it sounds like your place is kinda going to shit. I’ll stay here. Turns out that I’m pretty good at Purgatory.”

Dean accepts it without speaking, doesn’t say that he understands, because he was always better at Purgatory as well.

“In fact, I think this is where I get off the train. You’re close enough that you’ll make your portal with time to spare. I’ll stay behind, try to keep any stragglers off your tail.”

“You can come with us,” Dean tries again, because it’s been good, having Benny here, having someone who is on his side without needing to hear Dean explain himself thirty times, because Dean’s lost too many friends in this life--

“Naw,” Benny says, face splitting in a grin. “Out there, you’re fighting God. Here, I just get to beat up wolves and vamps. Out of the two of us, I’ve got the easier job.” He claps Dean’s shoulder. “See you on the other side brother.” He nods to Cas before he disappears into the forest.

Dean spends a long moment staring after him, trying to parse through his emotions to determine what he feels the most. After a few seconds, Cas comes to stand next to him. He doesn’t say anything, which is a comfort, because Dean doesn’t know what the hell he would say in this situation.

Once upon a time, there would have been a hand on his shoulder, the feel of another body bumping into his. Cas might still be figuring out the intricacies of human comfort, but he learned the lesson about physical contact easily enough. Right now, Dean’s skin is aching for that touch, for that comfort that Cas used to give up so freely. He has to clench every muscle he has and a few that he doesn’t just to stop himself from leaning into Cas.

“We need to go,” Dean finally says, through gritted teeth. “That portal ain’t staying open forever.”

---

Cas walks faster than him, so he ends up in front, blade in hand. Dean falls behind, thinking about Benny, about Adam, about Lee, about Sam and Eileen--about a whole bunch of shit that he doesn’t want to think about it. About how every time he and Sam talk about the endgame, Dean always mentions that it would have to be someone who was in the life. Someone who understood it.

About how every time he and Sam describe their endgames, Dean has a little comparative checklist in his head that he goes through, like Cas can do that, and Cas does that, and Cas would do that.

And he thinks about the last time he was here, about how desperate he’d been to find Cas. About how he spent a year hunting through monsters, covered in blood and dirt, hurling prayers into the night, hoping beyond hope that he’d finally hear something from Cas. About how Benny had said Forget it, he’s either dead or he ain’t answering, we gotta go, and Dean had said, Not Cas. If he ain’t answering then there’s a reason. I told you, I ain’t leaving here until I find him. And then Cas had a reason, which was I was doing it to keep you safe and--

It’s Cas. It’s always been Cas.

Dean stops, almost tripping over his own feet as he does so. Ahead of him, Cas continues, implacable as he ever was, but that’s not all he is. Not anymore. Dean can peer close and see the cracks of him, the spaces where Cas has burst out of the skin that he first had, the places where he’s grown into this new, wondrous creature. And Dean’s used those cracks to hurt Cas, slid his words in where they would hurt the most, but he’s done with that now, he just wants--

It was always easier in Purgatory.

Dean closes his eyes and does the best job he can of calming himself down. Then, he does what he hasn’t done in years--He thinks, hard as he can, at Cas’ retreating back.

Castiel.

Ahead of him, he can hear Cas’ footsteps drag to a startled stop. Dean keeps his eyes closed, the better to imagine the soft ‘O’ of surprise that Cas’ mouth always falls into whenever someone manages to get the drop on him. It doesn’t happen often.

Cas, you got your ears on?

Praying like this is a luxury. It always was, moments stolen from the constant blood and filth, seconds where Dean could close his eyes and pretend, just for a second, that there was something golden and his out there. Now, with a clock ticking down the seconds above their head, prayer is an indulgence that they can’t afford. But if not now, then when? If not here, then where?

Fix it, Rowena had said, and Dean had stared at her and hadn’t asked the one word that was on his lips--How?

Dean opens his eyes and fixes them on Cas. Cas, who hasn’t turned around, but whose fists are clenched at his side. His spine is a straight rod of tension that radiates outward.

I just wanted to...Shit, there’s so much that I need to tell you. I guess I should start by saying that I’m sorry, right? I know that it wasn’t your fault, any of it. I should have told you that before. And I’m sorry for snapping and...shit.

Dean’s eyes close as he realizes just how much he has to apologize for. They don’t have time for him to recount the thoughtless, petty cruelties of past years, all the times he’s snapped at Cas, the times that he’s dumped his frustrations and doubts squarely on Cas’ shoulders. Guy has to carry his own shit; he shouldn’t have to carry Dean’s as well.

I just...with all this shit going down, I realized that either one of us could kick it anytime. And I don’t...I don’t want you to think that I hate you. Rowena’s words echo in his mind, along with Adam’s, along with Lee’s.

Fix it.

Since when do we get what we deserve?

Aren’t we owed a little happiness?

Cas hasn’t turned around, but Dean can see the faint tremors which shake through his body. Without seeing Cas’ face, Dean has no idea of what he’s thinking, so he presses on, heedless, reckless--

There’s no world where I don’t want you with me. Just because...because Cas. If it ain’t you and me, then it ain’t no good. And I want you with me through all of it--And I know I fucked up, and I’m sorry, and I hope to god that you can believe me when I say that I’m going to try to be better. To do better.

Slowly, like tectonic plates shifting, Cas turns around. His face is a roadmap of the years spent together, the fighting, the bitterness, the loss, the pain, but also of the good stuff--the laughs, the friendship, the flirting, the excited little hitch in Dean’s chest whenever he walks into a room and finds Cas there waiting for him. The reassurance of always having Cas at his side. The peace found in his presence.

Dean prays, eyes locked on Cas’ face.

Whatever kind of future guys like me get...I want you there. Good, bad, more of the same...I want you there. With me.

It’s as close to confession as Dean might ever get. Those three words don’t leave his lips often, but maybe. He looks at Cas’ eyes, gone wide with shock and hope and thinks maybe one day.

Cas moves. He walks towards Dean, away from the portal, with slow, aching steps. Dean trembles as he comes closer, the weight of years pressing down on him, the realization that this might be it wrapping him in cold, clammy arms.

Cas stands less than an arm’s length away from him. He looks and Dean, and Dean looks at him, and Dean never thought that he would miss the staring between them, but my god, seeing Cas’ face is a revelation.

“We need to hurry,” Cas says finally, his voice soft. Something vulnerable lurks in the spaces between vowels, hangs on the last inflection.

And as Dean waits, Cas’ hand stretches out towards him, fingers wrapping slowly around his wrist. The pads of Cas’ fingers press against his pulse point, reassuring and soothing and something in Dean that’s been clenched tightly for weeks breaks and relief floods through his body.

“Cas,” he says, a world held in the single syllable, but Cas just squeezes his wrist.

“Later,” he says, in that voice that makes Dean believe everything that he says. “Later, I promise.”

And this time, when he turns back towards the portal, Dean is at his shoulder, their fingers brushing and tangling as they head back home.

It was always easier in Purgatory.

---

There are as many worlds as kinds of days, and as an opal changes its colors and its fires to match the nature of a day, so do I.--John Steinbeck

---

Tags!

@screamatthescreen @queenvee08 @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @dizzypinwheel @homeriics @deansbff @stay-inside-the-salt-ring

#spn spoilers #supernatural #destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #spn15 #spn season 15 #15x08 #15.08 #15.08 coda #dean winchester #castiel #benny lafitte #coda fic #dothwrites #welcome to the end #fare thee well spn

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themanicgalaxy · 3 years

Text

SPN 4X1 Lazarus Rising

I did not need to look to know the title

I have my hot cocoa, the big screen, a blanket, a cat and the crushing weight of my sins

that is totally enough separation

let’s go see the crazy bee man

YOU SHOOK ME ALL NIGHT LONG IS THE FUCKING OPENING CARD I’M CRYING

IS IT ALWAYS GONNA BE AN ACDC SONG

OH HELL YEAH

oh my god this TORTURE SEQUENCE HOLY FUCK

seriously 40 years he would not be well adjusted

did he scream “help” for forty years??

I can’t believe they actually fucking buried Jensen for this scene, I CANNOT

the visuals are HELLA EXCELLENT

this kinda looks like the field he dreamed about in the opening of the finale

oh my GOD THE VISUALS THE VISUALS THE VISUALS THE TREES THE CROSS THE SHADOW AAAAA

And yes, he does look very good

the hair looks great, not gonna lie

MISHACOLINS MISHA COLLINS M I S H A FUCKING C O L L I N S

How long has it been? three months or so I think?

the flashback to the torture, the no scars

THE HANDPRINT!! THE HANDPRINT THE HANDPRINT!

Boy what must this have been like live

Of course Busty Asian Beauties

the static? the radio that keeps going on?

is this why he calls it angel radio

Local Eldritch Abomination wants to say hi

poor Dean is hardcore panicking oof

and he tries all of the phones

no they’re not gonna believe it’s you Dean

~hotwires a car~

*goes after Dean*

“you’re about the closest thing I have to a father” AWWWWWw

THE FACT THAT BOBBY KEEPS TRYING TO STAB HIM

Aw man and you just got rid of all your scars

AWWWWW

NO THIS REUNION SCENE IS MAKING ME TEAR UP

He still had to try the holy water thing

HE LOOKED SO DONE IT WAS SO FUNNY

YEAH I KNOW IT’S BECAUSE IT WAS HALF LUBE

F O U R MONTHS

~lights out~ you’re lying, you have to be lying

and of course Sam goes angsting away like in mystery spot

poor Bobby

~this force, this presence~ I wonder wHo ThaT couLD bE

they’re convinced it’s whatever the fuck Sam did

“what don’t I know about that kid”

Bobby’s been drinking? aw? I mean terrible coping mechanism but

Is this Gen? I don’t know who’s who

So Sam wasn’t expecting

AHAHA BACK TO THE TRYING TO KILL HIM

“I’ve been through this already” AHAHAHA

what happened to his(Sam’s) hair it used to be fluffier

ah once again the *they’re dating* joke why did they keep doing that

...is Sam trying to,,,,become Dean...?

it...wasn’t Sam...Ohoho who could it be?

We all fucking know who it is where is ya fucking boy

this thing is a whodunit of who brought him back

So Sam’s been...spiraling

“who do you think you are, your old man” B U R N

they’re doing the “did we bring him all the way back

MISSOURI???? PLEASE BE MISSOURI

AW HE’S WEARING THE SAMULET AWWWW

“I don’t remember a damn thing” YOU’rE LYING YOU HAVE TO BE LYING

oh yeah, he’s lying

remarkably well adjusted for forty years in the pit tho

AHAHA THE IPOD JACK

*chucks it behind him*

Sam you have psychic powers don’t you think you should explore that

“you didn’t want me to so I didn’t” oof

Dean takes *fear of the unknown* pretty far

No it’s the lady who calls Dean out?

Pamela Barnes

Does everyone know them as Bobby’s Boys that’s so cute

is that a ramones...shirt?

it’s a Band Shirt I just don’t know what

the decor is like hard rock cafe y but cooler

ok so they flirt back and forth I see

that’s a pretty big burn damn

C A S T I E L

Please tell me she doesn’t die

Oh god he true forms her??

HER EYES ARE BURNED OUT WHAT THE FUCK

oho Diner Bar full of demons

and turns out the lock, fun

~to hell and back

the smile with “I’m not lying”

Aw it’s like he doesn’t normally have a good rebuttal

Fiercely Powerful Castiel that terrifies even the demons

OH RIGHT SERAPHS ARE LIKE SUPER SUPER POWERFUL RIGHT

Boy he’s seriously just...unphased now

“the smarter brother’s back in town” DAMN why is he so much more confident

Hell...really did a number on him

VISUALSSSS

THE FUCKING EVERYTHING GOING HAYWIRE

Cas just...doesn’t know how to talk to his crush, it’s fine

Local Wavelength of Celestial Intent just keeps breaking windows

And Dean’s Goddamn Ears apparently

oh wait it’s just Bobby and Dean oHO I KNOW WHERE THIS IS GOING

*we’re gonna get food* THEY DID IT BOTH WAYS YOU FUCKING-

COMMUNICATION

HE SWIPED THE KNIFE

THE K N I F E

they’re already burned out oh boy

They’re fucking blinded

BOY THEY FUCKING WENT A P E S H I T WITH HOW POWERFUL CAS IS

SAM JUST....PSYCHICALLY EXORCISED SOMEONE?? WOW??

DAMN that was neat

Oh is this Ruby? AH RUBY

dammit I wanna know what Sam’s been doing

BOY THEY’RE FUCKING B U I L D I N G THIS

THE SHEER A M O U NT OF SIGILS

ooo VISUALS

Sam did you ask her why she’s so dead set on helping you

OHOHOHOHOHO

THE CLACKING SCARED MINA

DWIHRAWPAIHPAS

FUCK YES

they rly made Misha say “gripped you tight and raised you from perdition” huh

yes hurt Bobby that’s gonna help

I’m An anGel oF the Lord

HEY REMEMBER HOW ANGELS WERE ON YOUR BULLSHIT LIST

HE D O E S HAVE FAITH JUST NOT IN YOU

HE’s SO SMALL AND SCRUFFY LOOKING

Holy Tax Accountant

“he actually prayed for this” KILLE DME JIMMY YOU FOOLE

“you don’t think you deserve to be saved” OH MY G O D

AAHAHHHHHHHHHH

wrap up:

1. I wanna know more about Sam’s thing when Dean was gone, I’m intrigued to see what’s gonna happen next

2. Dean’s Startlingly Appalling Self Worth Issues come in, are back, and AT FULL SWING. the “you don’t think you deserve to be saved” followed by the micro expressions? O U C H

3. I do appreciate how they kept building the suspense, and how powerful they showed Castiel to be

4. CASSSS!! CASTIEL!!! ANGEL OF THEE LORD! ! HE LOOKS SO GODDAMN YOUNG IN THIS SEASON IT IS Y A B OY AHHHHH

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT FOR THREE MONTHS IT IS HERE WELCOME TO C A S T I E L TI M E O NL Y

is he only in like three episodes? sure

BUT IT’S STILL YA BOI

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

#pawswatchesspn #4x1 Lazarus Rising #I have been cackling uncontrollably for a While now #IT'S CASTIEL!!!#ANGEL OF THEE LORD #HELL YEAH!!!!!!!

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waitingtobelit · 5 years

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Title: Holy Ground

Characters/Pairings: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Rating: PG-13 for heavy making out, slight violence, and Dean’s language.

Summary: Trying to drown out Michael’s relentless attempts at breaking out, Dean goes running in the early morning and winds up encountering more than he bargained for. A lot more. 2186 words.

Notes: I wanted to write something for Dean and Cas’ anniversary, and I’ve been listening to a lot of Taylor Swift lately, so here we are.

Disclaimer: I don’t anything regarding Supernatural or any of its characters. This was written purely for recreational purposes, and no profit is being made from this. I also don’t own “Holy Ground” by Taylor Swift, some of the lyrics of which are the source of inspiration for this particular story.

You can also find this piece at AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20407789/chapters/49155086

Running is its own kind of music, Dean finds. He likes to run; he can create his own rhythm, set his own pace. It’s one of his more practical hobbies, helping to keep him in fighting shape and to burn off the excess booze and burgers he tends to consume on a daily basis. Running is one of the few forms of exercise that Dean understands and understands well; after all, he’s been running his whole life long.

Running is also an escape; Dean can shut off the rest of the world when he runs, creating his own sort of peace.

Even if that peace only lasts for the time it takes for Dean to complete the run.

When he runs by choice, there are no monsters to be hunted, no world on the verge of falling over the precipice for the umpteenth time. There is only the music: the combined melodies of his feet pounding the dirt, his heart pounding in his chest, and the pounding of his music playing overly loud in his ears.

Running might not be a sunny April afternoon winding down the road in Baby, Sam and Cas by his side after a long hunt, but it comes pretty damn close.

And it’s the best weapon he currently has at his disposal to deal with the unrelenting pounding on the door inside of his head. Michael grows more demanding, more violent, the longer they hold out; the more time they spend searching for a cure outside of a box at the bottom of the ocean. Dean doesn’t trust himself to sleep tonight, in the same way he hasn’t trusted himself to sleep for the past two nights straight, dangerous and unstable territory. And running will, in the long run, only drain him of more energy. But what else can he do, when he fears losing control, falling under as Michael takes control of him once again, this time, for good?

Running gives him a sense of control; Dean is quick to shrug off his flannel and his jeans in exchange for a worn Led Zepplin t-shirt and his favorite pair of running shorts, a rusted beige color that practically matches Cas’ trench coat. After quickly slipping on some socks, he grabs his keys, his wallet, his phone and his headphones; he sneaks in an ankle gun and an ankle knife into his socks, careful as he ties his running shoes.

It takes him all of ten minutes to get ready, even with Michael screaming in his head. He queues up his favorite running playlist, one Cas helped him make, and presses play as he slips his headphones over his head. Full of Led Zepplin, Motorhead, AC/DC, and, yes, Bon Jovi, Dean gives himself over to the wailing of the guitar and the stomping drums as he makes his way out of the bunker and into the night.

A quick glance at his phone tells him it’s 3:15 in the morning. Even though Lebanon’s a small town, and the bunker is situated even further in the middle of nowhere, Dean knows he’s taking a risk going out on his own like this. With all of the things that go bump in the night that want him dead? He’s basically a running bullseye.

But he’s always loved the woods around the bunker, the way nature seems so especially raw and untamed so far from human civilization. He loves the feeling of unpaved dirt beneath his feet and unbroken wilderness surrounding him; he loves the way all of it makes him feel so unbound, so without limits. So free.

He’s quick to dismiss any concerns and worries - tonight is all about running hard enough to silence the archangel running riot in his brain.

Dean’s appreciative of the coolness of the night air, the way it flows down his throat like a strong whiskey as he breathes and nips at his bare skin like an early morning frost. The world glows dull silver beneath the moon and stars, shadows bursting out in abundance between the trees like weeds. With Robert Plant crooning in his ears and the offbeat beauty of the world around him, Dean almost forgets how screwed he and the rest of the world happen to be in that moment. He can almost believe heaven really is a place on Earth.

That moment of belief doesn’t last long.

A sudden impact of another body striking against his own forces Dean’s headphones away, flying through the air and landing in a nearby bush. Dean flails as his body hits the ground, a distinct thumping sound commemorating the occasion.

“Fuck!” He shouts, wincing as his head bounces against bare dirt and the world turns into a carousel of blurs and faded edges. He reaches for the knife in his left ankle, but the asshole who charged him blocks him from doing so. He only just has time to glance up and see a second set of teeth descending from the young (young looking) man above him before his instincts kick in and he rolls.

But the vampire is strong, a seasoned fighter; he moves with Dean and winds up trapping him against the ground after a second roll. The world spins, an archangel yells, and a vampire grins just inches from his face, poised to take a bite. Dean’s going to die; Michael will take control, and he can’t stop any of it from happening. Panic begins to rise in his throat like bile.

A swooping sound rattles the air and silver flashes; the smirk on the vampire’s face flies off with the rest of his head as the blade of a machete cuts it clean off. Behind the weapon, one angel of the Lord stands, expression fierce as he waits for the vampire head to finally land. He gives the remaining body a good kick, sending it over towards the head.

“Cas. Thank God.”

Dean lets himself relax into the ground for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Which is, of course, when Michael increases the intensity with which he pounds on the door inside Dean’s head, and Dean, vulnerable and exposed, writhes, a worm caught on a particularly nasty hook.

“Dean!”

Cas shouts his name but Dean can barely hear him over the waves of pain shooting through him. He groans, clutching at his head; he can feel the heat and weight of tears as they spill down the side of his face just as Cas kneels beside him, pulling him up and in towards his chest. Instinctively, Dean reaches for what he can of Cas’ coat, fingers curling in the rough and worn fabric as Michael beat, beat, beats against the door in his head. (He thinks he can feel the wood of said door start to splinter.)

“Cas,” he groans, almost sobs. “Cas, he’s so loud. I can’t - ” And he hates this; hates that he’s breaking, hates that he’s so vulnerable and weak and exposed. He’s supposed to be the strong one, the one holding Team Free Will together by his sheer stubbornness alone. But right now, in this moment, Dean is drowning (again), only able to really cling to the one lifeboat in sight.

“Shh,” Cas pulls him in close, the warmth of his body seeping through what little space remains between them. In spite of his wincing, Dean catches sight the moment Cas’ eyes light up silver blue with grace; his chest tightens as the air leaks out of his lungs at the beauty of that grace as Cas presses a hand to the top of Dean’s head.

“I’m louder,” Cas declares, his features contorting into a particularly determined expression that doesn’t help with Dean’s current state of dizziness. A fluttering sound echoes in the brittle early morning air, and, suddenly, Dean finds himself cocooned by both Cas himself and his wings. Or, what remains of his wings, at least. The tips of those wings feel like cool cotton against his heated face; Dean can almost taste the flush that spreads out across his cheeks as he lets out a noise that can only be described as a whimper at the sensation.

Another moment, and Michael’s pounding dulls, just a bit. Whatever injuries he’s sustained in being tackled to the ground are gone, and it is just enough for Dean to pull himself up a bit; enough for the world to come back into focus. Funny how the world looks exactly like Cas, he thinks. And he should move; should go and look for his phone and headphones. But he can’t move; he can’t bring himself to part from this peace painted shades of silver and blue.

His hands are still very much entwined with the fabric of Cas’ coat, and his gaze is still very much fixed upon the blue gaze above him, bright and warm as starlight. Dean’s throat is dry, as if he’s gone too long without water. His heartbeat is now racing, picking up at a graceless, crooked pace as his heart tries to claw its way up his throat. Feelings he’s spent nearly as much effort at keeping at bay as he has keeping an archangel imprisoned in his mind find their way through all of his cracks as Cas tightens his arms around him.

“Cas,” Dean breathes. No. Prays. Cas’ name on his lips is a prayer, a plea – a desperate verse from a song gone unsung for far too long. His fingers curl in Cas’ trench coat; his lungs and heart beat wildly, a raising crescendo from an old folk song, as he brings his face closer to Cas.

“Dean,” Cas replies, and Dean swears he can see every thought and feeling he’s ever had about the angel reflected in those blue eyes, blue as the best days spent out on the road, chasing after a hunt. Blue as the thunder that announced Cas’ presence when they first met.

Dean’s eyes flutter and fall shut just as Cas’ lips press against his own and the angel tugs the hunter as close as he possibly can against him. He’s right, Dean realizes; Cas really is louder. For once, Michael grows quiet. Buried, almost, by the very essence of Cas.

That first kiss turns into a second turns into a third. With each push and pull, the kisses grow in intensity and desire, blooming from so many years spent nurtured in unspoken words and loaded gestures. Cas parts Dean’s mouth with his tongue; Dean presses Cas’ name into the angel’s tongue, letting all of his most intimately vulnerable pieces follow suit.

“Cas.” (I love you.)

“Cas.” (I need you.)

“Cas.” (Don’t leave me.)

“Cas.” (I’ve loved you since I first saw you.)

And Cas answers with those same words, spoken in the language of Dean’s own name. Dean’s hands move into Cas’ hair, and Cas’ hands move all over. One hand finds its way to the place on Dean’s shoulder where the mark of his hand once stood out, raw and read against pale skin. Cas clasps his hand around that shoulder, and Dean shudders, Cas’ name falling from his mouth like a beloved Led Zepplin lyric.

Dean has never mentioned this to anyone, not Sam, nor even to Cas himself, but he remembers the exact moment Cas’ hand touched his shoulder down in Hell. He remembers the sudden sparks, like shattering lights, racing from Cas’ grip to travel all throughout Dean’s body; he remembers his soul catching fire, a different kind of fire from the sulfur and brimstone caging him in the Pit.

This morning, his soul is struck by lightning.

Cas’ wings seem to flutter above them both, delicate yet slightly frenzied, like a butterfly taking flight. They keep brushing against Dean, light, feathery touches that seem to warm him all the way down to his bones.

Dean isn’t sure whether he’s falling or flying; Cas is gentle as he lays him down on the ground. But, God, he wants to keep doing this forever as he and the angel blur all of their lines together. The sun starts to rise, but the moon lingers; gold, ombre, and silver all blur their lines together too.

Too much entwined with Cas, Dean fails to notice that his phone has landed fairly close beside the pair of them, his headphones not much further in the distance. He also fails to notice that, in the scuffle, the phone shifted from his running playlist to the playlist he’d put together as a potential new mixtape for Cas a few months ago, a playlist much less rigid in structure and filled with songs he would never openly admit to liking.

Currently, that playlist is blaring one Taylor Swift song repeat, Taylor Swift who sings of dancing and never looking down.

Dean discovers a new kind of running in the break of dawn; Cas learns what it means to never look down.

While they blaspheme together, while they concentrate their own ground, Taylor sings:

“Cause darling, it was good never looking down. And right there where we stood was holy ground.”

#DeanCas fanfic #Destiel fanfic #Supernatural fanfic #fanfic #Destiel #my writing #otp: a more profound bond

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orionsangel86 · 7 years

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12x09 - Episode Review - Too Much Heart Always Was His Problem.

Can I just say that as a staunch Cas girl this episode made me so happy. (I’m not a masochist promise) If you watched this episode thinking that Cas was getting a raw deal or that he was struggling or in pain then YES you are right! He was! But this is his story arc at play and in the first episode back of the second half of this season the showrunner decided that he would take front and centre stage. If you don’t believe me re-watch the episode, Castiel was its emotional centre.

I love Andrew Dabb for this reason. We have at least two Cas-centric episodes coming up and this was not supposed to be one of them, but of course how could he resist not focusing on his fave?

I will explain and get onto my review in a moment but I just wanted to emphasise this (and maybe also rub it in a bit in my own smug way against the Cas haters lol).

Anyway. Review under the cut...

Castiel (aka My Beautiful Angel of Humanity, Angel of Tears, Angel of my broken fucking heart and fictional love of my life)

Now as far as a standalone episode goes, the first 20 minutes bored me honestly, the last 20 minutes were awesome. It was rather unbalanced, with the only moments in the first half that really got me interested were Cas’s moments. I guess I’m just not a fan of government related stories or seeing the Winchesters stuck in one place not saying anything. But I enjoyed it overall. If it wasn’t for Misha basically owning that episode I wouldn’t have liked it because the escaped fugitive with the soldiers chasing after you thing just doesn’t do it for me, but Castiel getting a heavy emotional arc? Oh yeah. That does it. That hits the sweet spot.

This is an episode where Sam and Dean spend the majority of their screen time in cold defiant silence, before playing up their serial killer vibe as fugitives in their escape plan. Where Mary Winchester spends most of the episode seemingly going through the motions (anyone see major similarities with Buffy in season 6 *cue the singing*) and not exactly expressing herself in the best of ways, and where the remaining lead characters are the secret service men; one of whom only cares about getting info and the other who “wants them punished… wants to look Dean Winchester in the eye and wants him to feel it” and the British Men of Letters who, lets be honest, are a prime example of highly functioning sociopaths (to quote Sherlock) in smart suits with British accents. Castiel stands out because where every other characters primary motivations seems to be to help themselves (whether it be an escape plan, an ambition, a goal or just a distraction technique) Castiel spends his time only thinking of others. His selflessness and feelings of worthlessness have come right back to the front line and his struggle is evident throughout. It breaks my heart to watch him blame himself time and time again for things that were primarily out of his control. Of course this all escalates until Cas makes a decision that whilst still in line with his lack of self care, is very selfish in a way.

The episode was written this way purposely (as I will never believe that Dabb writes Cas moments without a very clear intent behind them). He has been framed as the heart of this episode, he wears his heart on his sleeve and it builds to the final moments where Cas ways up his choices and takes action against Billie. Once again, in true Dabb fashion, we are shown Castiel being brought down again and again (though this time by internal forces rather than the external forces of 11x10) until he makes a very rash decision based on the same principal as always with Castiel. To save a Winchester. What will the repercussions of this be? Billie said there could be consequences on a cosmic scale. I guess we will have to wait and see.

The initial argument with Mary, the conversation with Crowley, the failed vampire hunt, the phone call with Dean, asking for the help of the BMOL, the long drawn on moment where he watches the Winchesters reunite with emotion heavy on his face, finding out that they had dealt with their lives once again. All of these moments escalated in Cas’s mind to the point where he became fed up. He wasn’t going to lose the people he loves. His speech at the end had me in tears:

“You know this world? This sad, doomed little world. It needs you. It needs every last Winchester it can get, and I won't let you die. I won't let any of you die. And I won't let you sacrifice yourselves, you mean too much to me. To everything. Yeah, you made a deal. A stupid deal, and I broke it. You're welcome.”

Oh Cas. In his own mind, this is his motivation in a nutshell. Once upon a time Cas may have been motivated by a desire to do good for the world. To ultimately be a force for good for all humanity but he hasn’t been that in a long time. His motivations have closed in and become very personal. His motivations are preserving the lives of the Winchesters. It is the only part of him that is remotely selfish, and it is entirely rooted in love.

I just hope that this story arc for him develops to the point where he begins to see his own worth, because whilst the world may need the Winchesters, the Winchesters need him. Therefore the world needs him too.

It just occurred to me that in writing this I failed to bring up this moment:

Which was lovingly giffed for me by the awesome @godshipsit (here) and in which Misha kills me with his acting skills because LOOK at the emotion on his face. He has got them back, he sees the boys embrace their mother, and he looks on with this look of... what would you say this look is? Because it certainly doesn’t look like a guy who is just happy to have his friends back. No. That looks like a guy who is witnessing something that he longs for himself. That he feels he is separated from.

I swear to God if this season doesn’t at least end with a shot of the Winchesters all hugging and then Dean reaching an arm out and pulling Cas into that group hug I’m gonna be pissed. We need that now. After this look we definitely need it.

Mary Winchester

I said above that Mary is going through the motions, she is still struggling to fit in and even though she showed her desire to keep living at her last encounter with Billie, it is easy to tell that Mary is at a weak point at the moment. Like how Castiel is prone to make bad choices motivated by love, Mary is the same, and her offering up her own life was no different. It’s no wonder that Cas and Mary have been mirroring each other this season. They both put the brother’s lives in front of their own without much thought. I honestly thought for a while there at the end that she was gonna be killed off and I was prematurely so very angry at Dabb for that, but then I was rightly angry at Dabb for another reason anyway.

Her decision to work with the British Men of Letters will bite her in the ass of course, and for some reason the filming of it and the reveal that Mick was talking to Mary heavily reminded me of Sam’s conversation with Rowena at the end of 10x18. No good will come of this for any of them.

Sam and Dean

So I have admitted that the first 20 minutes of Winchester silent defiance bored me. Though I can appreciate the affect and filming style. If you wanna break a Winchester don’t torture them, put them in a small room and leave them there with nothing but their own thoughts for company. It will drive them crazy and they will do something drastic and stupid. I enjoyed the cabin scene and loved Sam’s “You’ll live” with the first aid box as well as his “we’re the guys who save the world”. Dean’s speech to Rick over the radio was scary. Dean definitely had his psychopath mask on “We’re not trapped out here with you, you’re trapped out here with us.” But ultimately, this all comes down to another stupid decision where a Winchester sacrifices himself to save the other. They didn’t specify which Winchester was gonna go, but lets be honest here, it was totally gonna be Dean. Dean would never let Sam give up his life for him. So Dean broke first and called Billie and offered his life to save his brother basically. Dabb is once again exploring this trend of Winchester co-dependency at its most toxic and portrays it once again as a negative thing (have I mentioned yet how much I love Dabb?) to the point where Cas calls them out on it. (I really loved Cas’ speech). Alas! I hear you cry! Will they ever learn? Well. Hopefully Dabb has a plan that includes the breakdown of the toxic co-dependency once and for all, as he continues to use it in his storylines as a bad thing and in no way romanticises it like it was in the early seasons. If this ties in with Castiel’s upcoming plot lines, this could get interesting.

I have to at least comment on the very few moments we got this episode where Dean seemed to show a hint of emotion underneath his cold exterior, because every moment (up until Mary offered herself up at least) was about Cas. The first being after the call with Cas when Sam asked “Are you gonna tell him?” to which he just answered “No”. This moment is telling because of what isn’t said. We don’t know at this point what Dean has done (because it is implied early on that it is indeed Dean who did this and instigated this escape) and the flat refusal to tell Cas isn’t because he doesn’t care about Cas at all, it’s the complete opposite, and this is evidenced later in the car scene. Dean’s refusal to tell Cas at that point how he escaped and cut him off quickly like he did was because it was too painful to even consider telling Cas that he was once again facing death. The second moment being when he first sees Cas in the woods before Sam hugs him, his face is of sheer relief and joy and yeah, when Cas goes in for the hug he smiles briefly but his attention is quickly focussed on Mary, which could be read negatively, and perhaps I am disappointed that we didn’t get more from that reunion (though we are being spoiled with Destiel hugs lately) but the kicker is when they are in the car. Once the car stutters to a halt and everyone looks around in confusion, Dean just turns and looks at Cas. We don’t see his face from the camera angle but my god that look is worth everything. Dean knows whats about to happen to him, he knows whats coming. That fleeting moment is Dean’s regret. Here:

Its everything unspoken between them. Its 6 months of complete isolation followed by only moments of reunion before this. It’s the pain and angst and heartbreak of Destiel summed up in 3 seconds of screen time. Its beautiful.

Other things

So the BMOL are interesting characters who you certainly wouldn’t trust with your life now. I do have some gripes about them though, and that is simply that I don’t get how this story started with a badass British woman taking down Sam Winchester and became two very generic looking white guys? Whats up with that? Why did they completely destroy Lady Toni’s character only to have her role be taken over by these two? Don’t get me wrong I am very intrigued by Mick and Ketch, but I miss Lady Toni (and by that I mean the Lady Toni from 11x23 and the summers fanfiction and NOT the Lady Toni from 12x01 and 12x02) Its irritating because surely Mick’s role could have just been her role?? But that’s my main issue. The other one is minor and more just a way of nursing any national pride I may have left after Brexit in that honestly we do not have two default settings of “extremely posh” and “Jason Statham style cockney” and we are not all evil sociopaths. I take a slight insult at the big bad this season being British People. Sorry America, but in the real world you guys are the ones with an evil villain running your country. We’re just going through a nasty divorce with Europe.

Crowley’s minor role was great. I enjoy his snark most of the time anyway but this line had me in stitches: “Sam and Dean, they're like herpes. Just when you think they're gone 'Hello' the boys are back leaving a trail of bodies in their wake. So wherever they are, whoever has Sam and Dean. In the immortal words of Lawrence Tureaud, 'I pity the fool.” Classic. I loved it.

I should at least thank Dabb for bringing Alesha back for a minor part. I’m glad her and her gorgeous brother are still living and doing their thing and really hope they make an appearance again.

I’m really upset about Billie’s death. She was an awesome character and I loved her take-no-bullshit attitude against the Winchester’s. I don’t think she deserved to die that way and I’m sad that Cas did it. Cas makes terrible choices when a Winchesters life is threatened. It’s sad but true. I hope that the only reason they killed her off was because of Lisa Berry’s commitments to Shadow Hunters rather than any desire to start killing off an awesome WOC character for the hell of it. This show needs more diversity. Another reason why I am clinging to the beautiful hunting twins.

My one other gripe was the lack of prayer. Where the hell were the prayers to Cas? Can he not hear prayers now? Or did the Winchesters once again suffer a major case of stupidity and forgetfulness in that they have an actual angel on their side who canonically hears prayers? What’s the deal? Someone ask Andrew Dabb to explain this because its gonna bother me as much as all his car stuff.

Aside from the minor gripes and death of Billie, it was a good episode (second half more than first) and Cas was amazing. As I’ve already said he was the heart of the episode and I need more like that where Cas’ emotions are a focal point. That speech… I just… in my watching notes I just typed “ahkgnrjagbrjhjrbrguragivbhf” as it seemed an accurate response for what I felt. We need more like that! Dammit Dabb don’t let us down!

Now I just need to get on and finish my actual Cas meta before the Cas episodes air as I still have so much to say about him and what I think Dabb is planning, but I’ll leave this here.

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