Sam & Lucifer Fic Rec

Includes both fics in which Sam and Lucifer interact in some way and fics about Sam dealing with his trauma from Lucifer/the cage. Mostly oneshots, because that's what I tend to read.

acknowledge the truth by lesbianbookworm: 13x21 episode tag

A Book of Relevations by InHisImage: post S14, Sam thinks about Lucifer.

a contrario by laertez: 13x12 episode tag, Sam & trauma

acta sanctorum by laertez: 11x10/11x11 episode tag, Sam & trauma

ad nauseum by laertez: 12x01/12x02 episode tag, Sam & trauma

Aint't No Mountain High Enough by Lise: S5 CD, Sam angst, brother angst, Lucifer being a creep

all roads by sp8ce: post S7 CD

Always By Your Side by threadofgrace (phoenix_and_the_ash): S7 CD, as Sam is haunted by Hallucifer and struggling to keep it together, a creepy cat who may or may not be just a cat starts to follow Sam and Dean

A Matter of Faith by katsidhe: 11x22 coda, Sam dealing with Lucifer being in the bunker

can’t shake this little feeling by monsterq: S7, Hallucifer fic, wincest

Carnivorous by Lise: S7, Hallucifer fic, wincest

Chosen Portrait by sp8ce: 12x07 CD, Sam and Lucifer's confrontation goes very different than in canon

Descend Together by Lise: 7x15 coda, Hallucifer fic

Everything Flows, Nothing Remains by Lise: S7, Hallucifer fic | Sam thinks Dean is dead and Hallucifer is not helping

Forever and Always by psquare: S7, Hallucifer fic

Gethsemane Moment by katsidhe: episode tag 15x19, Sam and Lucifer have a talk

Graveyard Dirt by a_good_soldier: post 13x21, Sam finds out Luicfer left something behind when he revived him

Half Sick of Shadows by Lise: mindfuck

Hallucination by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash): S7, Hallucifer fic

Isolation by CaptainShade: cage fic

Knowing Your Place (and other small tragedies) by artbabe: S11, Casifer fucking with Sam

i think i am shattered, lover; i think i am broken, brother by occasionally_always: episode tag 11x14, rewrite of the Casifer touching Sam's soul scene, POV Sam

instrument by sp8ce: Sam & trauma

It's A River (But Not in Egypt) by Lise: S7, Hallucifer fic

i will drink your cup of poison by redskyatmorning: late S11, Lucifer is in the bunker and he has a proposition for Sam

kiss my eyes and lay me to leep by Lise: mindfuck

Kiss The Skin That Crawls From You by lesbianbookworm: 15x09 CD, Chuck thinks making Sam relive some memories of the cage will make him give up

Let's Get Biblicial by lettered: episode tag 5x22, Sam & Lucifer as Sam is possessed

Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out by lesbianbookworm: episode tag 11x22, Sam dealing with Lucifer being in the bunker

Look'd Up in Perfect Silence at the Stars by Min Daae (Lise): S7, Hallucifer fic

love on my fingers by Trojie: 11x09 coda, Lucifer gives Sam a reminder of their time in the cage

lucifer spoke thus by hellsreluctantheir: late S11, Lucifer talks Sam down from a panic attack

outwardly respectable by sheepishlion: S7, Hallucifer fic | Sam goes camping and Hallucifer tags along

Ramsey by DragonflyonBreak: episode tag 12x15, Lucifer is not pleased Sam killed his dog

Say a Prayer for Recognition by Lise: cage fic

Strawberry Gashes by Leata: mindfuck

Suffering by Min Daae (Lise): S6 CD, Sam's wall is breaking and Cas has a solution of sorts, Sam & trauma

The Descent by threadofgrace (phoenix_and_the_ash): 5x22 coda

the frames on the wall (are cooked and empty) by Lise: S7, Sam and Dean talk about Hallucifer

The Last Word by katsidhe: 13x23 rewrite, Sam & Lucifer & Jack

the long walk by katsidhe: episode tag 13x21, Sam and Lucifer on their way to the camp

The Sky is Darkening Like a Stain by Lise: cage fic

Throes of Perdition by monicawoe: cage fic

Triptych by monsterq: Sam & trauma: Sam and Lucifer in the cage, Sam all alone post 7x23, Sam and Dean in heaven post 15x20 | wincest in 3rd chapter

Unreal by ameliacareful: post 11x21, Sam dealing with Lucifer being in the bunker

We Are the Two by Lise:post S7 CD, Sam's hallucinations reappear (Hallucifer + appearances from the other inhabitants of the cage)

Written in Reverse by rainbowbetty: Sam & trauma, (post) S7

Left Behind: a Supernatural Coda to 13x23 (Ao3)

Now that Michael's disappeared with Dean and his body... what will the others do? How will they react - knowing their beloved friend has been taken from them?

Here's how.

           Jody finds out from Sam. She’s at the stove, stirring a pot of beef stew from a recipe she saw on television. In the other room, Donna captures the girls’ attention with a daring tale from their latest hunt. Ever since she had transferred over to Sioux Falls, Jody and her have been moonlighting more often as a hunting duo. Patience and Alex listen intently, books wayward from their laps. Claire pretends to focus on the television, but her snarky comments betrayed her indifference.

           “Dinner’s almost ready, gang!” Jody calls, turning the flame from high to simmer, “Donna you can finish it in here, let’s go!” There’re grumbles, but the shuffling footsteps bring a smile to her face.

           She only notices her phone when she reaches for a bowl. Its notification light flashes, and she raises a brow at it. With most of the people she talks to in the dining room, there’re only one or two other people who can be calling.

           “Wonder if they found the devil…” she mutters, opening the phone up and reading the text.

           CRACK!

           “Jody!”

           She looks up, Claire leading the pack, pausing at the entryway. Her phone lies forgotten on the floor, a small spider web working its way up the corner of the screen.

           “De – Dean…” she mutters, leaning against the counter.

           “What happened?” Claire asks, “Jody – is Dean okay?”

           Jody looks at them – at all of them, and can’t stop the tears brimming to the surface. “He’s been possessed… and he’s… he’s gone.”

           Donna gasps. Patience and Alex whimper, hands finding one another. Claire, however, has a different reaction. She grits her teeth, steels her gaze, and steps towards Jody until she’s pulling the mother figure into a tight hug.

           “He’s not gone,” she says, whispering harsh and wet, “We’ll find him. That’s what family is for.” Jody clings to Claire, re-centering herself with the help of the younger hunter. The others follow, surrounding their matriarch.

           ‘Beef stew’s better for lunch anyway…’ Jody thinks, food forgotten for the night.

           Rowena also finds out from Sam. Her and Charlie are on the side of the road, staring at a smoking yellow beetle. The younger redhead is under the hood, while the witchier of the two waits under a black umbrella.

           “Honestly, dear, why did you insist on taking this horrid vehicle?” she asks, pulling her sunglasses from her face.

           “Because, Rowena,” Charlie starts, glaring at her while elbow-deep in engine guts, “It’s got soul. Reminded me of the car I had beforeangels screwed up my world.” It sputters once more, hacking grease and oil up on Charlie’s shirt. “Dammit!” she curses, “I just bought this shirt too!”

           “I told you to change,” Rowena calls out, “Although I won’t be shedding a tear over the ridiculous shirt you bought.”

           “Carrie Fischer is a treasure!” Charlie yells, “May she ret in peace!”

           Rowena wants to fire off another round of sass, but Annie Lennox’s ‘I’ve Put a Spell on You’ cuts her off. “Already?” she asks, pulling out the offending device from her purse, “We only just bloody left. What could they possibly…”

           Charlie tries to focus on fixing her bug’s engine. But the longer Rowena keeps silent, the more worried she gets. Finally fed up with trying (and failing) to put together the machine, she looks back over to Rowena.

           A shaking, crying Rowena.

           “Hey… hey!” Charlie rushes over, “What happened?”

           She reaches out to touch her, only for the witch to pull back, “Don’t touch me with those grease-covered mitts, nerd.”

           Charlie rolls her eyes, “Who was it? What did they say?”

           “It was Samuel,” she starts, fiddling with her phone, “He said… Lucifer – he’s… he’s gone…”

           “That’s good right?”

           “Oh it is, dearie, but…” she hiccups, “Dean…”

           Charlie’s heart drops to her stomach. Even only knowing that something happened to the elder Winchester sends a chill up her spine. He was so sweet – albeit a little overprotective. Looked at her like the Charlie from his world. And even though they had just met, wishes that he’d share that look with her more often – but only because of the bond they built together.

           “What happened?” she whispers.

           “Michael,” Rowena admits, “He’s possessed by the Michael from your world.” Charlie gasps, biting down on her lip until water wells up at the corner of her eyes.

           When she reaches out to hug Rowena, the latter doesn’t care for how mussed she’ll look later. She hugs the other girl back, rocking back and forth until a kind stranger helps them towards the nearest gas station.

           Ketch finds out from Rowena. He’s relaxing in a booth at a roadside diner, a cup of stale coffee cooling nearby. In his hands, a wrinkled newspaper with marks over different sections and articles.

           A young waitress sidles over to him, her brunette hair pinned back into a messy bun. There are a few stains on her mustard-and-ketchup uniform, and the once shiny nametag that says ‘Sara’ has seen better days. “Are you ready to order, sir?” she asks him.

           He folds the newspaper over and meets her bored stare. “I’ll have some eggs, bacon and toast, love. Scarmbled. Burnt. And butter. Thank you.” Sara rolls her eyes, but moves on to put the order in.

           “Let’s see…” he mutters, flipping to the next page, “This might be interesting.” He pulls his phone out now, placing the older medium off to the wayside. Typing in a few key words, he pulls up another article that checks off a few more tabs.

           “Thought we wiped all you bloodsuckers out ages ago,” he hums, “But here we are.”

           He’s about to close out when a notification flashes above. Ketch sees Rowena’s name and frowns. After having her insert the resurrection spell back into his leg, they parted ways with the hope of never seeing the other again.

           But she’s messaging him, telling him that Dean…

           “Bloody hell.”

           Ketch bolts from his booth, storming out the door. Sara calls after him, “Sir… sir! Your food and –“ the bell clangs –“my tip… British… I thought they had manners.”

           The former Men of Letters rushes over to his bike, his vision blurring with rage. He stops at the handlebars, leaning against them, shuddering for breath. He’s staring into a tunnel, and his gut twists itself into knots he hasn’t seen since his Academy days.

           “You stupid… block-headed… American!” He kicks the wheel, sending his bike to the ground. Ketch curls up next to it, taking a few seconds to control his temper.

           Soon enough, he’s picking the bike up and peeling out of the near-empty parking lot.

           On his mind: the route back to Lebanon.

            Billie walks the halls of her library. She plucks a book out from its place and opens it to a certain page.

           “Damn,” she whispers, “Out of all the paths… why’d he have to follow this one?”

           She carries it back to her desk, Jessica watching with fear.

           None of the reapers, including Billie, are sure what will happen next.

           Naomi watches Heaven blare in and out. Flagstaff flies in with the other angels quickly on her heels.

           “Naomi?” she asks, “What is happening?”

           “Lucifer,” Naomi tells them, “He’s dead.”

           “Dead? But…” the angels look between them, “What does that mean of Heaven?”

           “We still may have hope… there’s one other archangel left on Earth.”

           “Gabriel?”

           “No… Michael.”

           Mary finds out from Cas.

           She and Bobby re-emerge from the Bunker’s innards, surprised by the eerie silence within their home’s halls. They’re on high alert, with Mary steeling herself for whatever she might find. Even if that means her boys’…

           ‘No,’ she thinks, ‘We’re not going there.’

           What they do find in the main room, however, is not what they expected. Michael’s vessel lies unmoving near the map of the world. On the steps, Cas sits frozen – like a statue, curled in on itself.

           “Cas?” Mary asks, stepping forward, “Castiel? What happened? Where’s…”

           He doesn’t respond.

           “Castiel?” she urges, kneeling right behind him, “Sam and Dean… I need to know.”

           “He’s… he’s gone,” Cas says, eyes distant – searching.

           “Who’s gone?” Mary pleads now, hand on his shoulder, “Castiel, please –“

           “C’mon now, boy,” Bobby interrupts, “Answer her!”

           “Dean he… he said…” he chokes back a sob, “He said yes.”

           Sam and Jack find Mary curled against Bobby, weeping openly against his chest. The two shuffle their way in, nearing them. Sam quickly joins the two hunters, where Mary latches onto him, squeezing him tight. “Why?” she asks, “Why did he – why would he?”

           “To save us,” Sam tells her, swaying with her, “To save us all.”

           Jack sits next to Cas, the angel unmoved by their entrance. “Father?” Jack asks, “Father, are you okay?”

           He says nothing, but twin wet trails tell Jack all he needs to know. The nephilim leans his head against Cas’s shoulder, humming. “We’ll find him,” he says, “And when we do, we’ll rescue Dean.”

           Mary’s wretched cries and Sam’s feeble words are all that break the deathly silence suffocating the Bunker.

           Cas finds out because of Dean. His final act, a last-minute prayer sent to him before Michael took over. In it, he tells Cas two things: “Take care of them” and “I… I… I lo –“

           The message cuts out before he could finish, the bond between them cut – Cas recoiling from the intensity. He shudders, slowly craning his eyes toward the ceiling.

           And cries.

He chuckled. He actually chuckled.

“So this is who they send? The little angel that could?” Michael grins, and Cas winces.  It hurts to see that smile look so wrong. “This is the best they got?”

Cas says nothing.  All he can do is stare and hold his ground.

“I had you pegged from the moment I saw you, Castiel.  You’re soft.” Michael shakes his head.  “The Castiel I knew was hard. Fierce. Absolutely ruthless.  Although, it did take a little...finesse to get him to that point, I suppose.” There’s that chuckle again.  “Always the wild card, aren’t you? But still, easy to read.”  Michael approaches him.  He holds the archangel blade out to Cas as an offering, and Cas looks startled.  “Here.”

Cas takes it, his face contorted in his confusion and anguish.  “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t.” Michael leans in close.  “You see, I’m betting that, even given a free shot, you couldn’t hurt me. Hurt him.”

Cas’s lower lip trembles as his fist tightens around the hilt of the blade.

“I saw it back in that hole in the ground you call home.  When you begged him not to let me in.  You were so desperate, so distraught.  You-”

“Shut up.”

Michael smiles.  “Touch a nerve, did I?” He squares himself.  “Do it.  Kill me. Save this pathetic universe and destroy the one person you care about most in the process.  Come on, Castiel.  Show the world what you’re made of.”

Cas’s hands shake.  The archangel blade wavers.  He flashes back to Heaven, to killing thousands of copies of Dean.  He knows that, logically, he should do this.  He should kill Michael, save the universe, and sacrifice Dean in order to do it.  It’s what a soldier would do. It’s what he would’ve done just a few years ago.

But then again, he isn’t the same. He isn’t the same soldier.  He isn’t the same Castiel.

Cas tosses the weapon away from him.  Michael looks absolutely unperturbed.

“That’s what I thought.” Michael smashes his fist into Cas’s jaw, sending him crashing to the ground.  Michael pulls him up by the lapels of his coat and hits him again, and again, and again.  Cas barely even reacts each time that he’s hit, and this only seems to spur Michael on even more.

It doesn’t take long for Cas’s face to become a bloody pulp.  The blood drips into his eyes and he blinks it away, wanting desperately to cling to the image of Dean’s face.

“You’re pathetic,” Michael tells him, “You won’t even fight back when your life is on the line.”

“I won’t hurt Dean.”

Michael laughs a full-belly laugh this time.  “You couldn’t even scratch me if you tried.  You’re pitiful. Weak. They sent the wrong person to kill me.”

“Who said anything about killing you?”

Michael actually looks startled at these words.

Cas smiles through the pain.  “Oh, Michael.  You always were rather...short-sighted.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t.” Cas reaches up and places his palm on Michael’s -- no, Dean’s -- cheek.  “You strike me down, and I will become more powerful than you could ever imagine.”

Michael blinks at him as if he has lost his mind.  

“Dean, if you can hear me at all,” Cas begins, “I’m sorry it had to be this way.” 

Michael still looks confused, but he raises his palm to Cas’s forehead. He’s had enough of this game.

“I love you.”

Michael’s hand freezes, unable to move. “W-what?”

“I love you. Dean. Please. Forgive yourself for this. I love you. I love you.”

A single, traitorous tear falls from Michael’s eye.  He wipes it away and looks at his fingertips in wonder.  When his gaze snaps back to Cas again, suddenly Michael drops the angel and backpedals, holding his head in his hands.

“No!” Michael yells. “No, this is ridiculous! I’m in control! Me!”

Cas watches from the ground.

With one final yell, Michael’s grace erupts from Dean’s mouth, and Dean collapses to the floor.

The warehouse is silent.  Cas manages to crawl over to where Dean is lying, turning him over with care.  After a moment, green eyes blink blearily up at him.

“Dean?” Cas asks.

Dean sits up slowly, his eyes fixed up on Cas.  His lower lip trembles and he looks away.  

Neither of them says anything for a while, until Cas can’t take the silence.

“Dean-”

“Obi Wan, Cas? Seriously?” Dean glares at him.  “What were you thinking?”

“Dean,” Cas tries again.  “It’s okay.”

“He could’ve killed you.”

Cas sighs.  “That was...kind of the plan.”

Dean turns his fiery gaze on him.  “Are you insane?”

“I thought, if he killed me, it might be enough of a push to get you to break free,” Cas explains.

Dean shakes his head.  “I’d be done.  There’d be no chance.”

“Of course there would. There’s still Sam.”

“Don’t you get it yet?” Dean asks, his voice hardly above a whisper.  “That’s not enough. It’s not. I’m a selfish son of a bitch and I want it all. I want Sam. I want mom. I want Jack. I want you. No compromises. No exceptions.”

Cas frowns. “Wait,” he begins, shifting the conversation, “if you heard my Star Wars reference...”

Dean smiles sheepishly.  “Mark a win down for the power of love, huh?”

Cas stares at him in wonder.  “Dean, your cheeks are turning red.”

Dean shoves him away.  “Screw you, man. Just-just know, I, well, I mean to say that, well, technically-”

Cas huffs a laugh.  “Yeah. Okay. You really don’t have to-”

“I love you.”

Cas’s smile is blinding.

BTHB Square 1- Dying in their arms

My first square filled for the @badthingshappenbingo!

Characters: Dean, Lucifer, Jack (mentioned)

Ships: None

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, coda to 13x22 and 13x23

Words: 1,432

“And what about Lucifer?” Castiel asks.

Dean glances at his brother before answering. “… Sam handled it.” He doesn’t know exactly what happened after he went through the portal. All he knows is that Gabriel died by Michael's hand, and when Sam walked through, Lucifer didn’t follow after him.

Sam won’t talk about it. Dean suspects he feels a bit guilty about whatever happened, and he wouldn’t be the only one.

Truth is, In the 31 hours that Lucifer was ‘on the team’, he grew on Dean a bit. Maybe he did on Sam too, who knows. And maybe Dean is stupid to feel guilty and Lucifer really was just playing them the whole time.

But then again, maybe he wasn’t.

Dean can’t stop thinking about the things he and Lucifer discussed while working on the bus. He really should have taken his own advice to not speak to Lucifer because he’s been second-guessing his gut ever since.

It started when Dean was asking Lucifer to hand him tools while he fixed up the engine and Lucifer was asking him questions about how cars work. He’s apparently always been fascinated by them— and Dean was more than happy to oblige. He almost forgot who he was talking to after a while of discussing cars and how they operate (and eventually teaching Lucifer how to drive once Sam and Cass told him that’s the plan).

Lucifer was very receptive to the information and showed his engagement by asking follow up questions and making educated guesses about what would improve an engine or what certain parts are for.

It was actually kinda fun, all things considered.

That is, until Lucifer asked a question straight out of left field.

“You can still feel it, can’t you?”

Dean looked up from the engine, the fingers absently scratching his arm freezing. “What?”

Dean could swear Lucifer had honest-to-God sympathy in his eyes. Sympathy from the devil. Ha. “The mark. I just can’t help but notice you keep scratching your arm.”

Dean is just struck with silence, because Lucifer hit the nail on the head but how is he supposed to respond?

“Hey, it’s cool. I’m not gonna tell on you. I just wondered… it’s good to know I’m not the only one.”

“What?”

“Is that the only word you know now?” Lucifer teases him, reaching for the beer he’s barely touched.

Dean continues to stay silent, baffled and at a loss for what to say. Too many gears are turning at once. That’s right, Lucifer had the mark first. And for a lot longer than Dean had it. And if he can still feel it like Dean can…

“Don’t worry about it, just forget I said anything,” Lucifer mutters, drinking his beer and setting it aside again.

“No- wait,” Dean rushes to respond, struggling to find something intelligent to say. “Not the only one— you still feel it?”

“Well, yeah,” Lucifer responds slowly. “I mean, I only got rid of it the same time that you did, pal. I still itch at it too.” He proves it by pulling down the collar of his shirt, showing the reddened nail scratches on his collarbone. “But the worst of its effects are gone, so you won’t catch me complaining.”

That gives Dean pause as well. He’s smart enough to put two and two together but his gut keeps saying ‘no, there’s no way.’

Eventually, his head wins out. “So… let me get this straight. You had the mark even after you gave it to Cain?”

Lucifer nods, amusement playing in his eyes. “Duh. Did Cain lose it after he gave it to you?”

“Well, no…” Dean frowns to himself, logic telling him one thing which he really doesn’t want to consider as a possibility. “So, uh… your fall, the apocalypse, all that was under the mark’s influence?”

“Bingo,” Lucifer nods, something akin to hope in his expression. “And they say Sam’s the smart one.”

Dean pauses again. “So then you really are different now.”

That gives Lucifer pause, and Dean can tell the archangel is choosing his words very carefully. “… yes… and no. I mean… I’m sure you know, the effects of the mark don’t just… go away.” He waits for Dean’s nod of confirmation before he continues. “I’m not suddenly all better, back to my good old self. It took a long time to screw me up, it’s gonna take a long time to get better. But I want to— get better, that is.” He leans against the side of the bus, looking at nothing in particular as he talks.

“I thought beating Amara would make me better. But then when dad left again… it’s like there was no point in trying anymore. Everyone thinks I’m a monster anyways, so why bother trying to change anyone’s mind?” He catches sight of Jack walking around with Castiel further into camp and watches him walk, waving when Jack sees him as well. “But now I have a reason to try.”

The discussion didn’t go much further than that, but it really opened up Dean’s eyes. He started paying attention to how Lucifer acted, and tried to see him without the prejudice-tinted lenses he had before. And what he saw seemed for all the world like Lucifer was honestly trying to be better. He’s struggling, definitely. He really wants to impress his son— even more than he wants to help the rest of the team… but it does make it easier since Jack makes it clear that helping is more impressive than any story he can tell.

Maybe Jack isn’t naïve… maybe they’ve just been blinded by their prejudices.

It doesn’t matter anymore, though. Sam ‘handled it’. Dean will never find out if Lucifer really was trying or if he was just leading them on, because now he’s gone. Dead, probably. Michael killed Gabe, why would he spare Lucifer?

He can’t afford to worry about a what-if anyways. They’re home and safe, that’s all that matters now.

———

Dean can’t help but feel an ache in his chest as he fights Lucifer. He could see it— the second that Lucifer broke. It was in Lucifer’s eyes, mostly.

All it took was Jack rejecting him, calling him a monster. And Dean could see the way Lucifer crumpled inside and just… gave up. in that moment, Dean was 100% certain that up to that point, Lucifer was really trying to get better.

But it doesn’t matter because before Dean could get a word in… Lucifer retaliated. He took Jack’s grace and then he took Jack and Sam, and Dean has no choice but to give Michael his consent so he can go save them. Because as sure as he is that Lucifer was trying, he’s equally sure now that the Devil isn’t trying anymore.

And that applies to more than just trying to be good. Dean can tell Lucifer is a better fighter than he is. Lucifer is trained in forms of combat Dean couldn’t even imagine. Michael tells him as such in the back of his mind. But despite all that… it’s easy. Lucifer isn’t trying. He’s given up on more than just getting better.

When Dean lands the fatal blow, there’s a moment of resistance, as if Lucifer and Jack’s combined graces are working to keep him alive and nearly succeeding.

And in that moment of resistance, Lucifer meets Dean’s eyes and Dean can once again see just how broken he is. “I tried,” he mutters just loud enough for the two of them to hear. “I didn’t mean for it to end like this… but, thank you,” he says quickly, and then his grace gives up as well and the blade sinks deeper into his chest. And then they both fall, Dean holding Lucifer with the blade still lodged up to the hilt in his chest.

It seems the right thing to do, to hold Lucifer as he dies. Considering that no one else has offered Lucifer that luxury in his life, it seems only fair that Dean holds the angel through his death.

It’s violent, and bright, and nearly sears Dean’s retinas, but he makes himself watch.

That could have been him. If he didn’t have anyone to keep him sane, that would have been him. That still can be him, if he loses sight of what’s important to him.

When Lucifer is dead, Dean let’s his body fall out of his arms, laying the empty vessel on the ground over the imprints of his wings.

And then he stands, turning to look at what’s important to him.

Tenth Anniversary

There’s a knocking on the window.

Cas ignores it, but it doesn’t go away.

(He’s always found that particular human saying ridiculous. Of course ignoring something doesn’t make it go away. Almost universally, ignoring something it makes it worse.)

A voice joins it.

“Hey. Castiel. Are you okay?”

He hears the sounds of the Impala door opening and someone sliding onto the seat next to him; he turns and sees Charlie looking at him with concerned eyes. He twists the flannel shirt he’s gripping more tightly around his hand, then looks away.

He’s surprised it’s her. He’s surprised it’s any of them from the other world. They aren’t too fond of angels. He may have helped to save their lives, but he still makes them nervous.

“Did anyone ever tell you how I came to know the Winchesters?”

“Um. No,” Charlie says, clearly confused by his non-answer answer.

“Dean Winchester was in Hell.”

A pause. Then--no version of Charlie can resist a line like that--she asks, “Is that like literal hell, or just the metaphorical kind?”

“Charlie. You know demons are real. Dean was in Hell, condemned to an eternity of torture. And I rescued him.”

“You?!” Charlie squeaks. He isn’t looking at her, but he’s almost certain he can hear her eyes widen. “But you’re...I mean, you can’t even…”

He answers the questions she can’t bring herself to ask. “I was different then. Stronger. And whole. My wings were damaged...later.”

“Woah,” she breathes.

“Yes.”

He glances over, sees her open face and wide eyes, and somehow he wants to tell her everything: Sam and Azazel, Sam’s death, Dean’s deal, Dean’s last year, Ruby, Lilith, the hellhounds. He wants to tell her what it felt like to enter the depths of Hell, surrounded by blackness and despair, pulled ever onward by the shining brightness of Dean’s soul. He wants her to understand.

Instead, he says, “Sam died. Dean made a deal with a crossroads demon--his soul in exchange for Sam’s life--and I had orders to raise him from perdition.” His voice lacks inflection, aside from a slight waver on the word “soul”. Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, he wonders if Charlie notices. It’s hard to say. She looks like she’s trying to figure out which question she wants to ask first. Before she decides, he adds, almost as an afterthought, “It was ten years ago today.”

Her mouth snaps shut on whatever question she was about to ask. Instead she emits a small, “Oh.”

Charlie, of course, cannot hold back for long.

“But if you--”

“I was whole then, Charlie.” He doesn’t intend the bitterness that leaks into his tone. He sighs, starts again, calmer. “In those days I had an entire garrison of angels at my command, and even then many of my brothers and sisters died during the rescue. It was...” He searches for an appropriate word. “...intense.”

He runs a hand over the well-worn steering wheel; he can feel impressions left by the hands of different Winchesters over so many years. Here is John, these along the bottom are Mary, these here are Sam, and everywhere, everywhere is…

Cas closes his eyes. (As if closing his eyes can get rid of thoughts of Dean. Ridiculous.)

When he opens his eyes again, Charlie is looking at him. Her gaze is far more knowing than most humans he’s known, and he spares a fraction of a moment to wonder how she can look at him with both the wisdom of the ages and the open innocence of a child. It’s both off-putting and welcoming.

So he’s as surprised as she is when he says is a dull, flat voice, “I don’t think I can save him this time.”

“Yes you can!”

The fierceness of her answer startles him; he flinches back from her and presses himself against the inside of the door before he realizes what he’s doing. Her face changes from kick-ass to confused to amused in the space of a few seconds.

“Castiel. Um…” She searches his face, then goes on. “Cas.”

His eyes widen involuntarily at his nickname in her voice. She softens.

“I know you aren’t the same as you were ten years ago, but we all change. We all grow. Look at the big picture...maybe you’re actually better now, even without your wings. And you may not have a garrison of angels, but you’ve got a bunker full of humans at your back. And instead of following orders, we’re fighting to save our--well, your--world. But our friend. Our brother. Our son. We’re trying to save someone we care about. Someone we...love.”

Her last word lingers in the air. Cas wants to say something, but his mind is strangely blank. (But honestly, how does this woman see into him so well?)

The silence stretches on, but the tension is gone. Charlie reaches out, tentatitive, and pats him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go back inside, if you’re okay.”

As she’s scooting out of the car, he says, “Thanks, Charlie.” It’s not exactly an answer, but it’s all he has right now. He’s not okay, but maybe he will be.

********

Yes, this was supposed to be posted last month. But I had trouble finishing it...and really, if I’d posted it on the actual anniversary everyone would have yelled at me for getting my angst all over a happy day anyway. 😜

Thanks for your help, @bend-me-shape-me You’re the best, Vanessa, and you always make me laugh!

Never Give Up

Never Give Up - 13x23 Coda 

Castiel knew it was over the second Dean turned to him and shouted, “Lucifer has Sam. He has Jack. Cas, I don't have a choice!” He knew that Dean had made up his mind, that Dean, after everything, was going to say yes.

But there's something he needs to say to Dean first.

Castiel knew it was over the second Dean turned to him and shouted, “Lucifer has Sam. He has Jack. Cas, I don't have a choice!” He knew that Dean had made up his mind, that Dean, after everything, was going to say yes.

There was one thing that Dean would give up everything for, and that was Sam. Cas and Dean had watched in horror as Lucifer stole Jack’s power and taken off with Sam and Cas. They both knew what kind of power Lucifer had and what he could do. And Castiel knew that Dean would be willing to do anything to protect them, including giving his own vessel and free will to Michael.

Castiel’s heart broke as he looked in Dean’s eyes and saw the pure panic but he barely had time to react before Dean turned back to Michael, “If we do this, it’s a one time deal. I’m in charge. You’re the engine, but I’m behind the wheel, understand?”

“Wait!” Cas blurted out and lunged for Dean’s arm.

“Cas, there’s no time. You know what Lucifer can do.”

“Dean, two minutes. I need two minutes to talk to you before you do this.” Cas implored his friend with everything he had.

Dean softened when their eyes met, “Fine,” he grumbled and he pulled Cas a few feet away into the library. Dean closed his eyes, and outward sign of the internal pain he was fighting. “Cas…”

Continue reading on Ao3

“Dean, all we’ve fought for…”

“Do you have a better answer here? Sometimes you just have to go with the best worst solution.”

Dean’s eyes filled with tears he would never let fall and they begged Cas’ for understanding.

“Dean, you don’t know what you’re asking. Being a vessel it’s… it can be torture.”

“Yeah, I call that Tuesday, Cas. You know how many times I’ve been tortured?”

Cas’ heart ached for Dean. He knew what this man has endured, in hell, in purgatory, on earth. He remembered vividly the attack on hell, slaying demons as they did unspeakable things to human souls trapped in damnation, things they first learned from Lucifer and his fallen angels, methods that had been used on Cas himself in heaven. Yes, he knew first hand what kind of torture Dean could endure and he hated that this Righteous Man, his friend, deserved so much better than the pain this life had dealt him.

Cas put a steadying hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I know, but this is different. Michael is powerful. When an angel takes a vessel, they can choose to protect that vessel’s soul as I did with Jimmy. But don’t expect such mercy from Michael. He could destroy you. And how will you expel him once you have saved Sam?”

“You did it! So did Sam.”

Dean is right. He and Sam both did the near impossible and overcame the archangel who was possessing them, even if only for a brief moment. How? Neither of them should have had the ability to overpower the most awesome force of Chuck’s creation. What had given them the momentary strength they needed to take control from Lucifer? And that’s when it dawned on Cas that it was Dean. Every time, it was their love for Dean that empowered them. This broken man standing in front of him in anguish held so much love inside of him that the sheer force of that love had overcome Lucifer himself.

And love would be the only thing strong enough to save him from Michael.

Castiel mustered all of the courage he had and pulled Dean forward, slamming his lips against Dean’s. It was quick and rough and over too fast as Dean broke the kiss, shoving hard against Castiel’s chest to separate them.

“What the fuck, Cas?!” Dean growled.

It had failed. Castiel’s small hope that Dean would return the love he felt was shattered. “Dean, I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t!” Dean interrupted, pointing at him, “Just don’t. You goddamn bastard.” Dean dragged his hand down his face and turned his back to Cas taking a step away before looking up at the ceiling and taking in a long breath.

Oh god, Castiel had ruined everything. He had stepped across a line he knew Dean would never want and now his friend, the most important person in the world to him, would hate him for it. This might be the last time he would ever see Dean alive and he had done everything wong. Again.

But then Dean turned back around and stepped into Castiel’s space, “Why?”

“You… you’re going to be trapped inside of your own mind. You’ll need to fight.”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything? You know what I’m asking, Cas. Why did you kiss me?”

Castiel shifted on his feet uncomfortably, trying to think of a way to explain this to Dean, of a way to make it right. “Because I don’t believe my brother will let you go. Because I know that the only thing that will give you the power to take back your vessel is love and I wasn’t going to let you face that without knowing that… that I love you, Dean. I have always loved you and I always will. And whether it takes you a day or a thousand years to break free, you need to know that someone who loves you will be waiting and fighting for you every day.”

Dean looked dumbfounded, blinking several times before letting out a hysterical huff of laugher, “Jesus Christ, Cas. Ten years. Ten fucking years and you wait until now to let me know this?”

Castiel tilted his head and squinted into those green eyes, “How could you have thought otherwise, Dean? I rebelled against heaven, against my family for you. I have chosen you over everything time and again. I return to you always. And I know that you don’t feel the same way, but I need you to have some hope to hold onto when Michael has you trapped. I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

Dean shook his head, “No. Don’t apologize, Cas. Jesus, I’m not mad that you kissed me, only that it took so freaking long. And now...” Dean sighed and took one step closer to Cas, wrapped his hand around the back of the angel’s neck and pulled him in for another kiss.

This time it was different. It was soft and passionate, Dean tilting his head as his lips moved against Castiel’s. It felt like nothing Cas had ever experienced, to connect with Dean in this intimate way and to feel the relief of knowing that Dean returned his affections.

When Dean broke the kiss he kept his face close to Cas’, foreheads touching as he whispered, “God, Cas, why didn’t we do this sooner? What if… what if this is all we have?”

Castiel brought his hand up to Dean’s jaw, thumb caressing his cheek. “It isn’t, Dean. Do you know how I overcame Lucifer, even if it was briefly? It was you. It was my love for you. You can do the same. Fight, Dean. Keep fighting to get back to me, to Sam and to Jack.”

Dean pulled back just a bit, breaking their connection just far enough that Castiel could see a tear drip down his cheek as Dean angrily swiped it away. “Fuck… I’m scared, Cas.”

“I know. But you are the strongest man I have ever known. You will save Sam, Jack, and your world. And you will fight your way back to me. Dean, listen to me now.” Castiel brought his hands up to hold Dean’s face firm and force him to look straight into his eyes. “If Michael fights to control your vessel, don’t give up. Know that whatever Michael does in your vessel is Michael. Nothing is on you. And if you want to get back to Sam and me you will need to remember us, remember everything good, remember the love you have for Sam. Love is more powerful than anything. Follow it back to us.”

Dean nodded and dipped in for one last quick kiss. Castiel could feel the tremor of Dean’s lips against his own as they pulled apart. He watched helplessly as Dean turned away from him, walked towards Michael and his world shattered as Dean said the word Castiel had dreaded since he first realized how much he loved him.

“Yes.”

Remember when-

-there was the scene of Dean saying yes to Michael, and Cas being the only one present, that we never got to see? As in, Michael!Dean’s transformation?

And that there was speculation as to whether or not this was intentional? And could possibly lead to a very Destiel moment via flashback in S14?

Anyone think this still might happen?

@evvvissticante

deancas, coda, 13x23

There’s no time for good-bye. 

Sam’s in danger, and every second counts, so Dean brings his eyes to Cas and hopes that one look will get everything that he wants to say across.

He wants to tell Cas, Don’t look at me like that. He wants to tell Cas, I’m doing this for us. He wants to tell Cas that it isn’t good-bye forever, because Michael and he, they have a deal, and Dean’ll be back, in moments, so Cas shouldn’t be grey-faced with worry, as if the entire world just shattered to pieces.

Dean knows that this is a betrayal.

He knows how many years it took them to get to this point, and Dean was never supposed to say yes, but now he has.

Dean touches Cas’ wrist before Michael takes him. He stands there holding Cas by the hand while Cas shuts his eyes because he can’t seem to bear to see Dean. 

Cas doesn’t open his eyes until Dean flies away. 

x

Time passes and Dean doesn’t know how much. With their deal broken and Michael in full possession of his body, Dean retreats deep inside his mind and sometimes forgets where he is.

They flit place to place. Sandy beaches that echo of a long-lost dream and the roar of waves that crash against rock. Sometimes Dean sees where they are. Sometimes he doesn’t care.

But when Michael flies into the bunker secretly when all of them are asleep, even Dean jerks awake to take in the familiar presence.

It’s his room. And Cas is sitting on the bed.

When Michael strides towards him purposefully, Cas looks up and Dean tenses, struggles wildly, screams and fights tooth and nail for control, but Michael clamps down on him as if he’s nothing but a fly.

“I know how much you’ve missed him,” Michael says, and Dean’s not sure if he’s talking to Dean or Cas. Would you like to see him?

Dean nods desperately. Pulls at Michael and tears at him from the inside, but Behave, Michael says, or you won’t even get a moment.

Cas says, “Dean, please.”

Cas says, “I love you.”

And softly, Michael lets Dean come to the surface.

x

They don’t get more than an hour.

Dean curls up in Cas’ arms the entire time and asks how long it’s been and Cas says, “A few months,” and Dean buries his face into the crook of Cas’ neck and gasps for breath.

Cas shudders and pulls him in.

Says, “I miss you,” and Dean feels a lump in his throat and squeezes his eyes shut before he whispers, “Me, too.”

Before they separate, Cas gives him a hard look and presses his mouth to Dean’s.

It’s a soft kiss. It’s nothing but a peck on the lips and a want for more and a wish that things weren’t this way.

And then Michael binds Dean again.

I’m not a cruel commander, he tells Dean, when they’re gone, on another sandy beach in the middle of who knows where. When I’m done with your body, when you can take no more and begin to waste away, I will return you to your angel, and you two will be reunited once more. 

It’s not for thousands of years.

But when they meet again, it’s Dean barefoot with his toes in the sand, pulling Cas into his arms while he mumbles, “I love you,” and they kiss again.

(s13codas)

On A Beach Somewhere...

The sun is warm, but the breeze is cool, and it flutters Cas’s feathers when he spreads them to catch the rays. The sand is also very warm, but when he wriggles his toes underneath, he finds coolness there too. Such a dichotomy, this place. He’s starting to understand why Dean wanted to come here.

Dean. Dean who is currently several yards out into the ocean, fluffing and fluttering his brand new golden wings — Michael’s, technically — in the ocean waves with obvious glee. Dean. Warm affection washes over Cas as he watches the sun glint off bronzed skin and burnished feathers.

<Cas, buddy, you gotta try this. This feels awesome.>

Cas smiles — can’t help it — and sends a gentle stroke down the bond between them. <You’re going to get sand in some very uncomfortable places.>

<Yeah, but you’ll help me wash it all off, right?> Dean says with a rush of heat that has nothing to do with the sunshine.

<I was talking about your feathers.>

The heat doesn’t dissipate; in fact it glows brighter. <Even better. C’mon Cas, get in here.>

Cas watches his mate dive into a butterfly stroke under a large wave, come up on the other side and lift his wings to the sky. He shakes the water from them in a fine rainbow mist.

<Okay,> Cas says, and with a swish of his own wings he is plunged suddenly rib-deep into frigid ocean water. Had he been human, he certainly would have been shocked to the bone, but as it is he just lets himself to enjoy the refreshing cool.

He spies Dean floating a few arm lengths away, treading water and letting his wings fan out along the surface, washing in the waves. Cas dives under the surface, pinches his wings in sleek, and aims for Dean’s waist, dangling below the surface of the water. He grabs with both arms, going limp and hauling him under the waves. The water muffles Dean’s indignant squawk.

They both come up, Dean sputtering and Cas sly, and then with a glowing grin Dean uses both wings to slosh an enormous wave of water in Cas’s face.

Now it’s Cas’s turn to splutter and spit, but Dean is howling with laughter, and his wings are golden and his eyes glowing emerald in all the blue. Cas squints at him, then launches at him, and they battle furiously for dominance, all sparkling sprays of water and feathers flying.

When they finally calm down — no one really declared winner but both feeling smug — he and Dean are nose to nose, and the arches of their wings intertwine. The curve of Dean’s waist calls to Cas’s hands, and they settle there.

“Come back to shore with me,” he murmurs low under the surging sounds of the ocean.

Dean swallow and grins. “You gonna make me?”

Cas considers for just a moment, then with a whoosh they land back on the beach, Dean’s wings fanned out over the sand — just as golden — and Cas’s arched overhead, shading them.

“Now who’s gonna get sand in my feathers?” Dean grouses, grinning and affectionate.

“I’ll help you groom them,” Cas promises. Dean’s eyes go dark, heavy with the lust Cas can feel washing through his mate — or is that his own? Sometimes it’s difficult to tell.

Cas settles more firmly on top of Dean, slotting their legs together in the sand and closing his wings over both of them. Dean’s wings come up to embrace Cas’s in a cool, dark cocoon of feathers, and Cas leans down to drink deeply of Dean’s kisses.

A solid Thwak to Cas’s side startles him halfway up, and it’s followed by panting breaths and four sandy paws trampling over their bodies.

“Hey lovebirds!” Sam’s voice calls over the waves. “Wanna play?”

Cas blinks down at the colorful disk laying in the sand right before the playful long-haired puppy Sam has dubbed Poker snags the Frisbee and runs full-tilt back toward Sam.

Dean’s ribs are shaking with laughter; Cas can feel it where they are still touching, can sense the bright ripples down their bond. “Sure Sammy,” he calls out. “Just a sec.”

Cas feels Dean’s fingers on his cheek, gritty with sand. He turns to look into Dean’s deep green eyes. “Whaddya think, Cas? Was I right about this or what?”

With the sun on his wings, and Dean’s grin rivaling its brightness, Cas agrees.

@gneisscastiel @magnificent-winged-beast @daughter-of-the-rain-and-snow @weathergirl83 @dimples-of-discontent @suckerfordeansfreckles @cassbutt-and-the-righteousbi @jasminrogue @bend-me-shape-me @helianthus21 @silvie111 @starsinursa @elanor-n-evermind @babyinthetrench @sactownbrowns3

Just thinking of Sam and Jack finally getting back to the bunker

And Sam’s feeling like he’s been beat to shit because they’ve done this before so many times and he doesn’t know how to fix this one.

And Cas is sitting there still, not a clue how to fix this, wishing he’d had another answer for Dean instead of that final tombstone yes.

Sam starts telling Mary and Cas exactly what happened and Jack slips away, because he feels so useless and so so hollow.  His powers are as far out of reach as they were just after he was born and he thought he could take Michael, he’d been able to stop him and control Lucifer, but it’s Dean now, Michael has Dean, and Jack always hurts people.  He wants to help he tries but people get hurt and they die and he can’t do this.  He can’t bear the thought of hurting Dean.

And he meant to go to his own room, he meant to get a new shirt, but he stops at the door to Dean’s room and slips in and ends up curled in Dean’s pillow.

He’s not crying when Sam finds him.  He’s not.  And he doesn’t curl into Sam when Sam tries to soothe him and Sam’s heart doesn’t break just a little bit more.

Jack never got to be a kid.

None of them did.

13x23 coda

Castiel stares at the back of Dean’s head as Micheal agrees to Dean’s demands. In his heart Cas knows it won’t work. Micheal wont keep his side of the deal.

“Dean, don’t do this,” Castiel whispers.

“I have to, Cas. He has Sammy and Jack.”

Then Dean does something Castiel isn’t expecting. He turns around and steps forward right into Cas’ personal space. He grabs the back of Castiel’s neck and pulls him into a kiss. It makes Castiel’s head spin with pleasure and emotion. Just as fast as it began, Dean’s pulling away and turning his back to Cas again.

“I’ll come back, Cas. I promise,” Dean says with as much conviction as he can. Castiel believes he means the words but he’s not sure that truly matters.

Dean says yes and in a blink of an eye they’re gone.

Castiel sits down right where he stands. Staring at the wall he touches his lips. He refuses to believe this will be the only time he gets to touch those lips he’s dreamed about for so long.

Castiel’s chest tightens. He can feel the exact moment that Micheal takes back over. It’s over. Dean’s gone. He stares at the wall until it’s too blurry to see anything anymore.

“Please come back to me, Dean,” he whispers right before Mary and Bobby walk into the room.

Fathers’ Day

Castiel can’t claim to know much about these human holidays and the traditions behind them. Among the most confusing is Father’s Day. Unlike certain holidays, such as Christmas, the date seems to vary from country to country, year to year. More than that, it seems to have little more than commercial value. From what he’s gleamed, it is a time to buy some cards or presents, maybe have a sit-down family dinner in some slightly upscale chain-restaurant. A day so people can honor the men who raised them, but mostly as an excuse for businesses to rake in more money.

Sam and Dean have never really had the energy to celebrate, in the time he’s known the two. Understandable, especially when one considers their father. John was dead before he’d met the Winchesters, and the deceased have no place in a hunter’s mind, except in passing. To add to it, no matter what excuses were made regarding the circumstances, the most positive thing either brother could say about John Winchester’s parenting was “Hey, the guy was only human.”

When he was still alive, the Winchesters usually managed to call Bobby Singer and wish him a Happy Father’s Day, or take him out to a shoddy bar if they were hunting together. Even though they didn’t quite consider him their father, he was the closest living thing Sam and Dean had to one, and he certainly considered them his boys, though he never dared admit it. He wonders briefly if this new, different Bobby will get the same treatment.

It’s been a month since Michael carried Dean off, and things have been nothing short of chaotic. Sam works day and night checking every possible source for where the Archangel might be, and researching how to take an archangel captive. He runs himself ragged, not taking more than the bare minimum time to sleep and eat. Neither Castiel nor Mary has had much success in making him slow down. Not that Castiel himself expected otherwise. It’s the same familiar desperation he’s seen countless times. The senseless self-sacrifice that’s had him falling more and more in love with the weary man before him with every passing day.

Jack has inherited this simultaneously irritating and lovable quality, or at least obtained it through some form of osmosis. The young man hasn’t been the same since Michael’s flight. An immense guilt has been eating away at him slowly, weighing him down with the blame of something he wasn’t responsible for. This guilt that’s eaten away at him has left Jack with a hunger for redemption, for a chance to help Sam. He toils alongside the hunter in the library, trying to locate Dean and researching ways to restore his powers. Like Sam, his work efforts border on masochism.

However, Sam Winchester either lacks the awareness to see recognize his own self-destructive habits reflected in someone else, or otherwise cares about Jack’s mental health far more than he does his own. Because the hunter shows no hesitation in stopping him from pushing himself too far. Sam insists on Jack taking breaks, and will scold him for forgetting to eat and sleep. The younger man has given a fair share of resistance, sometimes lightly brushing off Sam’s concerns, and other times dismissing them heatedly. Yesterday it nearly came to blows, with Sam physically picking Jack up and carrying him off to bed, the ex-Nephilim kicking and hurling obscenities at his captor.

The shouting was audible to the human ear even from the foyer, though Castiel was hovering silently outside Sam’s bedroom for the majority of their fight. The shouting grew louder and louder, before it gave way to tears, which slowly decrescendoed into silence. When the angel finally braved entering, he found the two of them on the bed watching an episode of some animated show on Netflix. Jack had already lost the battle with consciousness, face buried in Sam’s chest. The hunter was about 10 or so minutes from following him. It only took a little coaxing and a swift kiss on the forehead to convince Sam to fall asleep.

He’s kept them sleeping, even though it’s well into the afternoon. Neither Sam nor Jack will be fairly happy when they wake up, especially when they find that Castiel used his grace, but they both need the rest. The angel knows Jack was planning something, a Father’s day surprise for both him and Sam. The young man might be disappointed that he missed his first Father’s Day, but right now both he and Sam need most of all is rest. It’s a challenge for the three of them to squeeze together on a bed, even with the utter lack of space between them. Castiel can’t say he minds.

As Fathers’ Days go, he cannot think of a better one than this. Spending the day in bed, watching the man he loves sleep deeply, the son that chose them as his fathers nestled between them.

i’ll always come back | a 13x23 coda read here on ao3

Castiel pushes himself off the floor, eyes glued on the spot where Sam, Lucifer and Jack had been only a moment ago. Dean seems to be in a similar state of shock since, aside from shouting Sam’s name, he’s got the same scared look on his face that Cas has. Dean’s eyes meet his, and despite the level tone the hunter manages to keep, Cas can feel the wave of panic spreading through the human. “What just happened?” Castiel shakes his head slowly, his eyes flicking back to the spot before meeting Dean’s again. “I don’t know.” “The Devil won.” Michael chimes in, leaning heavily against one of the bunker’s pillars. “That’s what happened.” Dean stares at him, dumbfounded. There’s no way. Lucifer can’t win, he won’t let him. He clenches his jaw but before he can get a word out, Cas is at his side, practically growling at Michael, “How do we stop him?” Michael has the audacity to laugh at them. “You don’t. After consuming the Nephilim’s grace, Lucifer is,” Michael pauses, glancing between the pair of them, “Juiced up. Supercharged. He’ll kill the boy, and then your brother, and then probably the whole universe.” Michael smirks, despite the blood still sluggishly pouring from his eyes and ears. “And you thought I was bad.”

Dean shakes his head, pressing his lips together. “No, no, you beat him. I saw you.” Michael rolls his eyes before letting them slip shut, shifting against the pillar. “When he was weaker and I was stronger.” There’s the barest hint of a snarl on the archangel’s face before he continues. “Believe me, I’d love to rip my brother apart. But now, with this banged up meat suit?” Michael coughs weakly before shaking his head, “Not happening.” He sighs, turning his gaze back to Dean and Cas. “This is the end. Of everything.” The entirety of the bunker is silent enough that Castiel can make out the beating of Dean’s heart speeding up. He’s racking his brain for anything that can help when Dean speaks. “No. What if…” The hunter pauses, pulling a deep breath into his lungs and closing his eyes for a moment before forcing himself to continue. “What if you had your sword?” Castiel’s eyes widen and fix on the back of Dean’s head. He’s reaching for the hunter before he even registers a conscious thought telling him to. “Dean. No.” He knows the hunter hears him, he can see the muscles in his shoulders tighten when Cas’s arm rests over where his handprint had been oh so long ago. To an outsider, though? To Michael? He’s positive it looks like the hunter’s ignored him. “I am your sword.” Dean takes a few wary steps forward, leveling his gaze on Michael. “With me you’d be stronger than you’ve ever been.” The archangel smirks at him, tilting his head. “Oh, I know what you are.” Dean barrels through, but Cas can feel the concern radiating off the hunter. “If we work together, can we beat Lucifer?” “Dean-” Dean’s clearly not having any interruptions, because before Castiel can even get another word in, he’s holding a hand up in the angel’s direction, focused on Michael. “Can we?” Michael hums, glancing past him to settle his gaze on Castiel. “We’d have a chance.” Another approach, then. This time he approaches cautiously, making sure his presence is noted by the hunter. “Dean, you can’t.” Dean finally, finally turns to look at him, and all Cas can see in his eyes is fear. “Lucifer has Sam. He has Jack. He could destroy the entire world.” Dean’s eyes flick to the floor before meeting Castiel’s again, his voice much softer. “Cas, I don’t have a choice.” Ultimately, he knows Dean’s right. Michael’s not nearly powerful enough to take on Lucifer in his current state, and if they don’t do something soon, both Sam and Jack will be dead and the world will likely follow soon after. That doesn’t mean he has to like it. Dean turns back to Michael, his jaw set. “If we do this, it’s a one-time deal. I’m in charge. You’re the engine, but I’m behind the wheel. We get in there, kill Lucifer, and make sure Sam and Jack are okay, and then you’re gone. Understand?” Castiel knows in his heart that no matter Michael’s answer to Dean’s question, this won’t go in their favor. He knows it’ll likely end up with Dean possessed for the foreseeable future. He knows, even if he says that to Dean, it won’t sway the hunter one bit. So, instead of wasting his breath, he keeps his mouth shut and fixes Michael with a glare. Michael meets his gaze for a moment before turning back to Dean. “I understand.” Castiel swallows nervously, glancing at Dean. The hunter turns to him, eyes wide and pleading. “Cas… you understand, right? I gotta do this, I can’t let them die. I can’t let him destroy our world.” Castiel nods slowly, forcing himself to say something. “I know, Dean. It’s not who you are. I get it. I’ll go with you.” Dean shakes his head quickly, taking a step away from Castiel. “No. No, man, you can’t. Stay here and help my mom.” Castiel furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head. “I’m coming with you, Dean. You’re not going alone.” “He won’t be alone.” Michael quips with a smug look on his face. It takes all the restraint Castiel possesses to avoid punching the archangel in the face. Dean shakes his head, closing his eyes. “No, Cas, you don’t understand. You can’t go. I can’t have you there. I need you here, man. I-I need you safe.” Castiel squints at him, fingers curling into his palms. “I’m more than capable of defending myself.” Dean shakes his head again and when he finally opens his eyes and fixes his gaze on Castiel, the angel finds unshed tears there. “I just watched you die, man. I can’t do it again. Please.” It goes unspoken, as it always does between them. The real reason Dean wants him to stay behind. He understands, he really does. He doesn’t want to, but if it’s Dean’s last wish, he already knows he’ll fulfill it. He nods once, relaxing his hands. “Okay.” “Aw, well isn’t that sweet? If you two are done, we’ve really gotta get going.” Dean turns to glance at the archangel and Castiel can practically hear the yes leave his mouth… but it doesn’t. Instead, Dean turns back to him and grabs onto the lapels of his trench coat, hauling Castiel against him. Before he can ask what’s wrong, Dean’s lips are on his and his hands are coming up to rest on the sides of Castiel’s neck, his thumbs brushing along the angel’s jaw. It’s not what he expected. If he’s being honest, he never in his wildest dreams thought kissing Dean would be reality. But after years of waiting, he can’t find it in himself to be shocked. Instead, he throws himself into the kiss, gripping onto the hunter’s shirt and pouring every ounce of love he possibly can into the kiss. Too soon, Dean’s pulling away with a whispered, “I’m sorry. I’ll come back to you, I promise. I love you.” Castiel doesn’t get a chance to return the sentiment before the hunter slips from his grasp and turns to face Michael. “Alright. Let’s get this over with. Yes.” Michael smirks and with a flash of blinding light, his previous vessel is left in a crumpled heap at the foot of the pillar and Dean’s nowhere to be seen.

Read the rest on AO3

Tag list: @gabesgoldenwings @agentzreads @ladystiltskin67 (also hi @casistooadorableandithurts I’m tagging you too cause I promised you the reverse Sam/Gadreel scene and also destiel kisses :D)

If you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list, let me know!

Rowena and Charlie are at a little pub outside of Reno when Sam calls.  

Rowena doesn’t bother to hide her surprise.  Charlie leans over to look at the phone in her hand with eyebrows raised.  “You know, it’s not going to answer itself,” Charlie reminds her as she takes a sip of her vodka tonic.

Rowena looks at her.  “I know that,” she says with an edge in her voice.  “But, with Samuel?  There are only a few reasons why he might call me...and I usually don’t like what happens next.”

Charlie shrugs.  “Really?  I thought I saw you looking pretty pleased when he was chatting you up the night we came through the portal.”

Rowena sighs.  

“If you don’t answer tall, brooding, and handsome, I will,” Charlie says, reaching for the phone.

Rowena snatches it away and accepts the call.  “What is it, Samuel?” She asks, drawing out Sam’s name.  “End the world again already?”

“Not exactly,” comes Sam’s reply, and Rowena would be lying if she said that hearing his voice didn’t make her stomach flip.  “Well, I guess, maybe, but that’s not why I called.”

Rowena frowns.  “Consider me thoroughly comforted by that remark,” she says, fighting to keep from rolling her eyes.  “What is it with you Winchesters...”

“Rowena,” Sam interrupts her.  “He’s dead.”

This gives Rowena pause.  Now, she could picture him calling her about Dean on the off chance she might be able to do something to fix it, but Sam’s voice sounded too...relieved.

Rowena gasps out a laugh.  “You can’t mean...?”

“I do. Lucifer is gone.  For good.”

Tears of joy prick her eyes and Rowena is grinning so hard she’s afraid her face might split in half.  “Truly?”

“We don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

Rowena is grateful for the distance between them, because if he was right there in front of her, she might not be able to refrain from hugging him.  She covers her mouth with her hand and just breathes in the moment.

But in this pause, she notices something.  Behind that relief in Sam’s voice is a twinge of loss.  Her smile fades.  “At what cost?”

“What?”

“Sam,” she tries again, “what did it cost?”

Sam sighs, and it’s heavy with the weight of the world.  “It’s Dean,” he says, his voice small and quiet in a way that sounds so utterly defeated.  Rowena hates it.  “In order to beat him, Dean had to...Dean let Michael in.”

“And now he’s not letting go of his prize,” Rowena fills in the blank.

Sam says nothing.  He doesn’t need to.

“You and the angel must be fraught.”

“Understatement,” Sam confirms after a moment.

Rowena glances over at Charlie, who has been sipping her drink and trying way too hard to make it seem like she’s not listening.  “What do you need me to do?”

“What? No, this isn’t your problem.  You don’t have to-”

“As much as I appreciate you giving me an out, let’s face it: if Michael can defeat Lucifer, then he can be worse than Lucifer.  He can’t go unchecked.”  Rowena sighs.  She can’t believe she’s doing this.  “So let’s put him in check,” she says slowly, really emphasizing the last syllable. 

“I won’t lie, we could really use your help.”  Sam pauses.  “I could.”

“Lucky for you I’m practically going for sainthood these days,” Rowena says airily.

“Yeah, right,” Sam says with a laugh in his voice.  It’s nice to hear in contrast to the defeat she heard in his voice just a moment ago.

“We’ll head your way in the next day or so.  See you-”

“Rowena.”

Rowena pauses.  “Yes?”

“Thank you.  Really.”

Rowena smiles and says nothing.  After a moment, she hangs up and turns to Charlie, who is looking back at her with a smug expression on her face.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Rowena asks, irritated.

“I love it when the baddies turn good for love,” Charlie replies.

Rowena rolls her eyes.  “Please, love?  Don’t be absurd.”

Charlie grins.  “You literally just volunteered to jump into preventing the apocalypse just because he needs you.  He even gave you the option of not getting involved.”

“You’re really rather nosy, aren’t you?”

“Point is, you used to be this awful witch that didn’t care if you killed anyone.  At least, that’s the cliff notes version I got. Now you and Sam have bonded over your shared trauma and you’re going to help him save his brother, which, from what I’ve gathered in my short time with them, is pretty much the best thing you could possibly ever do for either one of the Adonis brothers.” Charlie takes a sip of her drink.  “He’s going to be so grateful,” she adds, waggling her eyebrows.

“Come off it,” Rowena snaps. “I’m not doing it for him, I’m doing it for the world, which I happen to live in, you know.”

“Yeah, but also, you’re doing it at least a little bit for him.”

“No.”

“Yeah.”

Rowena shakes her head.  “I’ll just leave you to your delusions.”  With that, she gets up and starts heading towards the exit, but Charlie is hot on her heels chanting something about “ship names” and which one would be best.

But Rowena ignores her, because...Sam and Rowena?  Never gonna happen.

Word count: 1907

Summary:  A door appears in the bunker leading to a bedroom with Gabriel’s comatose body. Sam crosses the threshold, unaware that he cannot return until Gabriel is conscious and strong enough to bridge the gap back into the bunker.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Castiel, Jack, Gabriel

Warnings: Olfactory sensitivities, Wing Kink?

Part 1

Part 2

Castiel gave a slight knock to the frame of the door, not enough to startle Sam though. He was carrying full of supplies, and Jack was behind him with another box. “How is it going in here?”

“He is alive.” Sam replied.

“Very well.” Castiel looked around the room, “You will have little room to maneuver after you complete the spell. Gabriel’s wings are enormous.”

“Do you think it will work?”

“If you perform the spell properly, yes.” Castiel looked pensive. “To bear witness to an angel’s wings is an incredibly private affair, especially to a human. I must warn you, a connection may form between the two of you.”

Sam’s throat was dry, and he tried to swallow, resulting in a bit of pain. “When I was resting with him, I think he reached out to me… and I- I back to him.”

“That is a good thing. He trusts you. Human souls are a fuel to our grace. You make us stronger. He loves most humans, including you.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably. He had known Gabriel as a Pagan, and an archangel. After everything they had been through. He knew it was true; especially after these recent events. Sam was glad Gabriel stuck to his tricks. If he hadn't sent in another decoy, he would have been murdered by one of his brothers, again. A shiver ran down his spine. As convoluted and dangerous his life was, it was his family that kept him strong, kept him fighting. He would do the same for Gabriel.

He wiped his hands on his pants. “What do I need to do?”

“Within this box, you will find the spell and the ingredients. There is an enchanted wooden box in there as well. Be sure you keep all of Gabriel’s molted feathers, they are precious.” He handed Sam the cardboard box through the doorway. Jack handed the other small box Castiel who then handed it to Sam. “While you will use your bare hands for the majority of the preening, you will need to wipe your hands clean before each interval, and after.”

Sam placed the box on the nightstand. Jack was now standing in the doorway with Sam’s backpack. “Castiel said this will be arduous work, so I packed a bag for you.There is food, clean clothes, and your hairbrush!”

“Thanks Jack.” Sam loved the kid so damn much, he almost wanted to tell him.

Castiel spoke again, “I'm sorry if I was harsh with my tone earlier. It wasn't my intention.”

“I know Cas. We’ll get through this.” He added, “And get Dean back.”

With Sam's words, Castiel’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “Right.” He stood straighter, “Pray to us if you need us. We will leave you alone now.”

Pacing in the room, Sam didn't quite know where to start. His legs wanted to give out, and he just wanted to give in. But that wasn't an option. He sat on the bed next to Gabriel and placed his hand over his smaller one. His palms were sweaty, and a little sticky. A shower would be a good first step.

Feeling more refreshed, he began to unpack the spell contents on the small table against the wall. He carefully read the incantation three times. Sam returned to the bedside and flipped Gabriel onto his stomach, mindful of his neck. Brushing aside his hair, he prayed to him again, ‘Gabriel... I'm nervous. This spell is powerful. It requires a mixture of our blood. I- You aren't awake to give me consent.’ He ran his fingers through Gabriel’s hair. ‘I know this is weird, but I want you back.’ Gabriel didn't stir, but he thought he felt a little nudge of warmth in his heart. He closed his eyes and concentrated, but there was nothing. The connection he had felt earlier was no long there either.

That little nudge settled his nerves. Sam began the spell, speaking the incantation in perfect Latin, along with the Enochian parts he had rehearsed, He took the knife and sliced his finger and dripped the blood into the bowl. He did the same on Gabriel’s finger.

The combination of their blood caused the bowl to produce a shimmery smoke. Sam dipped his hands into the bowl and rubbed his palms together.

He climbed on the bed and straddled Gabriel. He took a deep breath and massaged the medley onto Gabriel’s back, and spoke the final words of the spell, “Praestares mihi gloriam tuam super alas.”

Gabriel's skin warmed under Sam’s touch as he continued to knead into his back, from his trapezium down to the bottom of his ribs and spine.

The concoction was beginning to dry out and flake on his hands. Worry was beginning to form as nothing had happened. He sent out a plea to Gabriel to accept, but was there was only silence.

He prayed to Cas and he appeared in the doorway. Sam didn't move, he spoke softly, “It isn't working.”

Castiel asked, “Did you pray to him?”

“Yes.”

“Song is stronger than prayer. Sing to him Sam.”

“Sing what?”

“Teine O Fea Oe.”

Sam turned so he could look at Cas, 100% bitchface. In which he retorted, “Adoro Te Devote”. He shook his head, he didn't know that one either.

Cas rolled his eyes. Sam was well read, intelligent, he didn't feel bad he didn't know some stodgy old songs. Gabriel probably wouldn't even like them anyway. That's when lyrics popped into his head which caused him to groan out loud.

Curiously Castiel asked, “What is it Sam?”

His shoulders sagging, “I know a song.”

“I will leave you to it then. Put everything you have into it.”

Sam was so embarrassed, he hoped nobody would hear him. He was sure that if someone was listening, Gabriel would take immense pleasure in his humiliation.

Focusing on those feelings and pushing them towards Gabriel, he pressed his hands firmly on his back and began to sing, “My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, And they're like, It's better than yours, Damn right, it's bigger than yours, I can teach you, But I have to fart”

Sam laughed but kept singing, he didn't really know the song, just the chorus. So he repeated it, “My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, And they're like, My wings are better than yours, Damn right they’re bigger than yours, I can show you, But they're far to large…”

It was then that Sam felt Gabriel’s muscles twitch, and saw a protrusion forming from within his back. Sam got off the bed quickly and backed himself into the corner unsure of what was going to happen next.

A golden light erupted from Gabriel and his wings unfurled in one swift moment. Sam closed his eyes and dropped to the floor, holding his head between his legs.

He wasn't scared, but Gabriel's wings produced such a great force of wind, he thought he was going to be struck by one.

Before Sam could even open his eyes, he was assaulted by the odor of Gabriel’s wings. It was enough to make him gag, and he had to swallow down the urge to vomit.

That changed immediately when he looked up and saw the wings of the archangel. They encompassed the majority of the room. Gabriel’s feathers were primarily gold, but varied in hue. Some of them shimmered more than others. With each step Sam approached, Sam noticed the differences, until he realized Gabriel had not just one pair, but two. They hung over the bed and angled down to nestle on the floor. He surmised they must be at least 30’ spread.

Sam side stepped around the room until he was at the base of the bed. And he reached down and clasped Gabriel’s calves. Hidden behind his wings, Sam could hardly see Gabriel’s form. The realization that this magnificent being not only was relying on him, but also trusted him was staggering. Given the trauma of what Gabriel had gone through these past 8 years brought tears to Sam’s eyes. Instead of praying, he pushed his resolve towards him. His loyalty to protect him. He stroked the back if his hand over the closest feathers and felt a small tingle. It felt similar to the connection he had earlier in the day. Reluctantly, he left his side and washed the residue off of his hands. Then set the wood box and a few towels on the nightstand.

Sam stood at the head of the bed, Gabriel's face was pointed the opposite direction. Using his palm, Sam stroked over part of his wing and sensed a connection again, this time it was more of a warm pulse. Gabriel’s feathers were the softest thing he had ever touched. The light danced off them, reflecting their color on one another.

He leaned in a little closer, he noticed they were beginning to dry out. A few on the verge of becoming brittle. Gently, he ran his fingers through the area, and held a small cluster of feathers in his palm. He placed all but one in the wood box. Bringing the last one close to his eyes, it was like down. Fluffy all around. This one was more yellow in color, muted by the white undertones. Sam placed it in the box with the others.

He continued to remove any feathers he could from the upper portion of Gabriel’s right wing. Every feather that was pulled helped to coat Gabriel's other wings in the oil. It was a fluid process, each time he reached into his wings, oil was being transferred to he hands. Sam had lost himself in the experience, he was focused, calm. The tenuous connection to Gabriel was strengthening. It was still small, but hummed contentedly with his ministrations.

His hands were beginning to cramp, and he needed to take a break. He wiped his hands using one of the cloths and wished there was somewhere to lay down for a bit, but Gabriel took up the whole bed.

He stretched out his stiff muscles, and scooted to the left side of the bed so he could see Gabriel’s face. He touched the back of his hand to Gabriel's forehead and was pleased he was warmer than he had been, even developing a rosy tint to his cheeks.

Rifling through the bag Jack brought, he opened the front pockets. There was some candy, a bottle of water, an apple. He pulled out a pair of jeans and a black v-neck from the larger compartment. There was also the 3rd Harry Potter book, but his heart stopped when he saw a copy of Busty Asian Beauties.

Not wanting to look at it, he stashed it in the drawer of the nightstand. He didn't want to think about Dean right now. Didn't want to think about where they would be if Dean didn't say yes to Michael. Because he had done it, he did kill Lucifer. He left him alone, again. His leg brushed against Gabriel’s wing, and he was immediately calmed. He thought to himself, ‘We will get you back Dean.’

Sam found his second wind. As he made headway with Gabe’s wings, stroking and coating his feathers, the pungent smell was being replaced with an almost unworldly fragrance. It was like a spring rainstorm rain, freshly tilled baseball field, combined with a hint of vanilla. It soaked into his core.

After

Dean stumbles into the Bunker’s kitchen. “Mornings should be illegal.”

“I made coffee.” Cas hands him a mug.

“You’re an angel,” Dean says, cupping his hands around the mug and breathing in the awakening scent.

Cas rolls his eyes. “So I’ve been told.”

*

“Salt, Cas! Now!” Dean flails one arm toward Cas, pointing at the duffel bag that had been shoved behind a headstone in the scuffle, tries to fend off the extremely angry ghost with the other.

But the duffel was too far away. “Catch!” Cas shouts, and tosses the fireplace poker he’d been using as a weapon. Dean catches it and slashes through the ghost, all in one motion, his years of muscle memory taking over.

After the salt and the fire and the screaming ghost Dean turns his back on the flames. Into the darkness he says, “Cas, buddy, could you, uh, fill in the grave?”

Cas, puzzled, says, “Of course.”

Walking back to the Impala, looking everywhere but at Cas, Dean answers the unasked question. “Fire. It’s not my favorite thing since...since we had to…”

“Ah. Since you had to burn my vessel.”

Dean winces, bumps their shoulders together. “I’m just glad you’re back.”

*

“Don’t just stand there. Sit. And it’s okay to take off your coat, Cas. It’s a movie, not a board meeting.”

“Yes, Dean. It’s Empire Strikes Back, which the two of us have watched together four times in the years we’ve known each other. Isn’t that enough?”

Dean huffs. “Enough? Are you serious? We will watch this at least four more times together. Probably fourteen. Or forty-four. Now take off your damn coat, sit on the bed, and eat your molecule-flavored popcorn.”

“Whatever you say, Dean.”

When he turns to hang his trenchcoat on the back of the desk chair, he smiles a small smile.

“I have to eat the popcorn?”

Dean sets the bowl on Cas’s lap. “It’s not negotiable.”

*

Through the crowd, Dean catches Cas’s eye, nods toward the kitchen.

By the time Dean gets there Cas is already pulling two beers out of the fridge.

“Thanks,” Dean says. “Let’s get out of here, too many people. This place is big, but I’m used to just the few of us…”

They sit in the Impala; they don’t drive, just sit in the quiet of the garage. Dean runs his hands over the worn steering wheel, so familiar and comfortable. When the beers are gone they wait awhile, not saying anything. Once or twice Dean turns to look at Cas, then away.

“Did you want to talk about something?” Cas’s voice sounds deeper even than usual in the silence, like stones being dropped down a forgotten well. Dean’s eyes are almost pleading; a moment expands between them, straining, until it pops.

Dean’s grin is different, somehow, from his usual smile. “Naw. Let’s just go back to the party. They probably don’t know what to do without us.”

*

Cas stands in the doorway of Dean’s bedroom, looking at the bed but not seeing it. His arms hang limp at his sides and, held tight in one hand, a worn flannel shirt. Every memory that passes through his mind gives him both joy and despair.

That’s the thing. You never know it’s the last time until after.

And then it’s too late.