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brittywritesstuff · 5 years

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but still i find you there, next to me

Warnings: None -- couple f-bombs

Spoilers for 15x01

Word Count: 2.1K

A/N: I'm back on my bullshit with episode codas. Welcome to the end, amiright? Title is a lyric from Next to Me by Imagine Dragons

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“Hey, go easy on him.”

“What?” The line between Dean’s brow is deeper than ever as he snaps his head in Sam’s direction. He finds his brother watching him intently as he steps off the curb. “The hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Cas,” Sam says with a huff.

“You-- shut up, Sam.”

Sam looks away and pauses a beat. Then, “No. Y’know what, Dean? No. I’m not gonna shut up.”

Dean stops in his tracks and Sam nearly barrels into him. He doesn’t give a shit that they’re standing in the middle of the street. He gives a shit about his brother poking around in business that isn’t his; putting his nose where it doesn’t belong. “‘Scuse me?” Sam doesn’t know what the hell he’s getting into, and Dean’s really not in the fucking mood to deal with it.

Sam’s mouth thins out, and he huffs through his nose. Dean has half a mind to poke the festering bullet wound in Sam’s shoulder as payback for this conversation. “You think Cas wanted any of this to happen? You think Cas thought--”

“No, he didn’t think,” Dean snaps, narrowing his eyes at Sam. “He never does.”

Scoffing, Sam presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “That’s funny coming from you.”

Dean shifts his stance and tips his head to the side. “You got a problem?”

“Yeah, I do. Cas is family, Dean. You’ve said it yourself a million times. And he cared about Jack more than any of us. He cared about mom. He’s grieving, too. And-and-and the first sign of trouble, you’re willing to just write him off like he means nothing? I saw you when he died, Dean. I kept my distance, and kept my mouth shut, but I saw you. This,” he gestures generally, somewhere behind Dean, “this whole cold-shoulder act… you’re not doing anyone any good.”

“Sam--”

“I’m not done.” Dean’s jaw twitches, but he stays silent. “Whether you like to admit it or not, we need him. You,” Sam pokes Dean’s chest, and Dean wants to break his finger, “need him. You always do. What happened with Jack-- with-with mom? It wasn’t his fault. You wanna be pissed at someone, be pissed at Chuck. Or all the monsters and ghosts we’re about to face. But not him.”

Sam doesn’t give him a chance to retort before he shoulders past Dean and trudges up the steps toward the school. Dean feels heat creeping up his neck, and he huffs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck.” As if the last two days haven’t been trying enough, now he’s got Sam on his case about Cas. And Cas… fuck. Fuck!

He sucks in a breath and grunts to himself, like he’s working up to something before he heads up the steps toward the school doors. Everything is a goddamn clusterfuck, and he can’t tell which way is up.

The sheriff accosts him before the door’s even closed, and Dean rattles of some instructions to keep the locals busy for a while. Buy him some time to figure things out. The sheriff heads back toward the gymnasium and Dean heads for the all outside the admin office, and he catches Cas’s eyes as Cas turns the corner, looking perturbed. Cas, for what it’s worth, looks away, seeming to give Dean the space he wants. Or, at the very least, Dean thinks he wants.

Dean has half a mind to let it go, let Cas walk right on by, but as their shoulders nearly brush each other, Dean scrubs a hand over his mouth and swears to himself. He stops a few paces away and closes his eyes. “Cas.” He’s not even sure Cas hears him until Dean hears the quiet clacking of his soles on the tile stop. Dean drops his hand and turns, finding Cas watching him, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

“Shit,” Dean mutters. He looks around, shifting his weight, and finally tilts his head toward the empty hallway to his left. “Can we talk?”

“About what?”

Well, fuck. Cas is in one of those moods. The stubborn kind. The kind that reminds Dean of when they first met, and it settles an ache in his chest, weighing heavy on his heart. “You-- about--” He huffs, clears his throat, and wipes a hand over his mouth. Beyond the double doors behind Cas, he hears the squeaking of shoes on the gym’s linoleum floor; the quiet hum of voices engaged in various conversations, no doubt lobbing questions at Sam, the sheriff, and his staff. With a grunt, his eyes shift back to Cas’s irritated face, and he tries again. “Can we just talk?”

Cas’s mouth is set in a firm line, and he stares at Dean a beat too long for comfort. Finally, he sighs, as if put out by the inconvenience of Dean’s existence, and steps past Dean into the deserted hallway. Dean waits a moment, lifts his eyes to the ceiling to compose himself, and follows. Cas is waiting silently beside a door labeled ‘Art -- Room 401’ and he’s watching Dean closely.

Dean turns, kicking his toe against an empty locker. It echoes down the hallway, and he raps his knuckles against the cool metal. He’s stalling. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. It doesn’t sound much like words; more a jumbled mess of letters like ‘msrrr’. Cas certainly notices.

“What?”

With a huff of exasperation, Dean whirls around on his heel to look at Cas directly. “I’m sorry,” he sais, more forceful than intended. Cas looks taken aback, and Dean’s face softens. “I-- The kid…” He heaves a breath, pushing his hands in the pockets of his FBI windbreaker as he looks down at his feet. He toes at a scuff mark and tries to collect his thoughts; tries his best to rearrange the Scrabble pieces in his mind into a coherent statement. “I know,” he starts slowly, his gaze still fixed on his shoes. Why are apologies so goddamn hard? “I know you’re havin’ a rough time with the kid. ‘N’ I’m sorry.”

He hears Cas sigh, and he doesn’t even have to look up to know the look he’s getting: Cas’s head tilted to the side, his brows drawn together, his lips curved in a frown. “Dean.”

“I shouldn’t’ve taken it out on you.” He’s surprised with himself, admitting he’s wrong. Maybe the world really is ending. “I just… You-- he killed-- he… Mom’s gone. Again. And there ain’t no reset button, y’know?” His voice dips, and he clears his throat to try to hide the shakiness. “All my life, I wanted her back. ‘N’ I had her. ‘N’ then I didn’t, ‘n’ I--”

“Dean.” Dean sniffs, and Cas continues. He hears the footsteps as Cas approaches. Feels the warmth of his closeness. “You have every right to be upset to lose your mother.” Cas’s hand is on his shoulder. “But, Dean, I lost someone, too.”

“I know, man, I know.” He tilts his head and lifts his eyes from the floor to Cas’s eyes.

“We’ve all made mistakes. I ignored the signs when I should have said something--”

Sam was right about this, Dean decides. They’re all at fault. But Cas is the easiest to lash out at. He always is. It’s not fair of him, he knows. If anything, he should be kinder to Cas than he is, but… it seems it’s easier for Dean than admitting the truth: Dean is not only wrong, but a coward. “Nah.” He cuts Cas off with a shake of his head, and he reaches out to grab a fistfull of trenchcoat. “We all saw it. But we--”

“Hoped.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth turns up. “Yeah. Hoped. Not mucha that goin’ around these days, but, I dunno.” Cas’s hands shifts to the base of Dean’s neck. “This is all so fucked, Cas. I mean, the end, y’know? I told Sammy I liked the odds -- him ‘n’ me against Hell, but I gotta be honest with you, I’m not seein’ a way outta this.”

Cas’s thumb brushes the space below Dean’s ear and he leans closer. “We’ll figure it out, Dean. We will find a way. We always do. All of us. Me, you, Sam--”

“Team Free Will,” Dean huffs.

Cas smiles -- actually fucking smiles. “Yes. Team Free Will. Seems felicitous now more than ever.”

Blinking, Dean exhales quickly. He doesn’t know what felicitous means, but he thinks he gets the gist of it. “Yeah.” His thumb brushes one of Cas’s lapels. “Listen, I know it’s rough, seein’ that asshole ridin’ around in Jack, but--”

“You need him, I know.”

“We need him, Cas. We’ll take care of it, sooner or later, but for now--”

“For the greater good. I’m aware.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

Cas tilts his head, and Dean feels that ache of affection. “What?”

“That you were dead to me.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if his own words bring him physical pain. “I could never--” he sucks in a breath that he releases through his nose like he’s trying to keep from getting sick. “I didn’t mean it, Cas.”

Cas is quiet for a beat, and then, “of course, Dean. I know.”

“No.” Dean opens his eyes. “No, I need you to hear it. I’d never wish that. God, losin’ you nearly fuckin’ broke me. I need you to really understand that I--”

“I know, Dean,” Cas says again. His thumb strokes the hinge of Dean’s jaw. “I know.”

The deep line between his brows smoothes out just a little, and he licks his lips as he leans back against the lockers, pulling Cas closer. “C’mere.” The halls are still deserted, and he wants to take advantage of the brief moment they have alone. He thinks, end of the world, right? Fuck it. He wrangles his other hand out of his pocket and grasps the back of Cas’s head, pressing their foreheads together when he’s close enough. He doesn’t give Cas to speak first. “Just-- shut up.” These moments are usually reserved for complete solitude -- Sam snoozing away down the hall or in the other motel room; nights in the Impala when Sam’s off doing research. Moments just for each other, under the cover of secrecy. Not in the hallway of a high school with a whole town worth of people a coupla hundred feet away.

“I didn’t say anything.” Cas’s free hand palms Dean’s hip.

“You were gonna. Just--just don’t.” He closes his eyes and breathes in deep. Cas always smells so good, it’s always been hard to ignore when they’re not alone. Like an oncoming storm in summer. Something almost indescribable. It’s distinct. It puts him on edge and calms him all at once.

“I wasn’t.” Dean doesn’t open his eyes, but he can hear the smile in Cas’s voice.

Tipping his head, his lips brush against Cas’s, and he inhales slowly. Cas’s lips part, moving against Dean’s, and he swallows a groan. His fingers curl in Cas’s hair, the tip of his tongue meeting Cas’s. It’s a nice distraction from the universe crumbling around them. He focuses on the feeling, on the taste, on--

A slow clap echoes through the hall and they part, both turning toward the sound. Dean stands up straight, his face set in a look that could burn a hole through the sun. Belphegor stands at the apex of the corridors, watching them with a smirk. “I had a feeling there wouldn’t be trouble in paradise for long,” he quips. “The famous love story is too good to end!”

“I-- what?” Dean snaps.

“Oh, Dean Winchester and his Angel.” Belphegor speaks so matter-of-factly and cheerfully, Dean wants to put his fist right through his face. “It’s everyone’s favorite soap downstairs!” He leans forward like he’s letting them in on a secret, pushing his hands into his jacket pocket. “We might be demons, but we’re not averse to a little romance, y’know. We like to have something to root for!”

Dean growls and stalks toward the gymnasium, and settles for shoulder-checking Belphegor as he passes. “Shut up. Cas, let’s go.”

He hears Cas’s footsteps, and Belphegor behind him, “Don’t want to keep the hubby waiting-- Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Dean turns to find Cas gripping him by the shirt, his angel blade once again pressed to his throat.

“Cas, let him go. We talked about this. Let-- hey. Let him go.” Cas finally does as Dean asks and releases Belphegor with a shove.

“When this is over,” Cas turns to Dean as they step away from the abomination and head for the gymnasium together, “I will make him pay.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt it. But just-- y-- not yet, okay? Not yet.”

Cas straightens his trenchcoat and huffs. “Fine.”

Dean reaches out before they reach the double doors and straightens Cas’s lapel. “Y’know, for what it’s worth… I don’t think your coat is stupid.” He offers a nod, turns, and disappears through the doors, with a new resolve to fix this insanity and, once again, stop the goddamn apocalypse.

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cuddlemonsterdean · 5 years

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in hunger and in thirst || dean-centric post 15x01 fic. can be read as gen or background deancas. please check AO3 link for additional tags!

“We got work to do.”

Sam slams the trunk shut, his jaw set. And Dean agrees, but—

“Okay, good, but first things first.” Dean stabs a finger in Sam’s face, channels his sternest mom voice. “You’re gonna sit your ass down, and you’re gonna eat something.”

Sam rolls his eyes.

“Dean—”, and it’s almost a whine, like when he was little and Dean decided it was bedtime.

“Nope. You just got shot with a magic gun and fought a bunch of ghosts, you gotta keep your strength up.”

Sam gripes about Dean’s mother-henning, but he does let Dean maneuver him to sit in the backseat with his freakishly long legs outside the car and both feet on the concrete.

Dean ignores the griping and climbs into the car to forage. He could have sworn he’d seen a —his fumbling fingers bump against something that crinkles, something that’s soft inside.

“Yathzee.”

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#kelpie writes #spn 15x01 coda #dean-centric fic

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quillquiver · 5 years

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DeanCas-adjacent Coda 15x01: Back and to the Future. Dean and Cas are still fighting, but they’re also in love with each other so. I wrote canon? I guess??? (Also: let me know if you want to be tagged!)

“Hey, uh, so—Castiel, right? I—”

“Not interested.”

Belphegor falls into step half a pace behind him, laughing. His gait is slightly different than Jack’s. The knowledge grates. “Aww, Cas, you don’t even know—”

“—And do not call me that,” Castiel growls.

“Touchy,” the demon mutters. “C’mon, guy, you don’t wanna talk to a fan?”

Cas whirls around and slams Belphegor against the nearest hard surface. It happens to be a brick wall, and only the desire to keep Jack’s body intact stops Castiel from crushing his prisoner to dust. His knees almost go weak in protest at the physical sensation of hurting this particular walking corpse, stomach turning as Belphegor mouths off, stopping only momentarily when there’s an angel blade at his throat.

“Aww, really? Cas, I thought we were friends! I thought—”

“Belphegor,” Castiel spits. “Tell me, really—how stupid do you think I am?”

It’s awful, seeing how Belphegor stills in Jack’s body. How his shoulder relax and his chin lifts in a smirk. “Nah, see, that’s the difference between me and your friends over there, Cas; I don’t think you’re stupid at all.”

Castiel’s lip twitches. At this point, he thinks that seeing his loved ones worn by evil entities should be second nature. It’s not.

“I think you know exactly who I am,” Belphegor continues, “and I think you’re keeping me a secret because you know that once Thing One and Thing Two figure it out, they’ll waste me like last week’s lunch. But you won’t. Because you know you need me. Because I can help end all this.” He waves his hands, motioning over Castiel’s shoulders. “I’ve been following your career a long time, Cas,” he says. “Ever since you bit the big one and jumped down here to live in the mud. The new Lucifer—”

Castiel sneers, ripping himself away—but Belphegor holds tight to his biceps and keeps them locked: blade against his own throat, Cas attempting to glare him into the ground.

“You dare compare me to that child?”

“No,” Belphegor replies serenely. “Because you’re not a child. You’re a soldier. A strategist. You are so much smarter than him, Castiel.”

“I am nothing like him—”

“And I’m agreeing with you! I’m telling you: I think you’re amazing, I do. From the bottom of my black heart. Really. The amount of chaos you’ve caused, I fucking admire you. I mean, Lucifer didn’t even get half as close to what you’ve done to this world—and Heaven? Oh, your work in Heaven was inspired—”

“Shut. Up.”

“Why? You’re exactly who I want to be when I grow up!” Belphegor lets go of his right arm then, but Cas finds he can’t move; not that he’s physically unable to, but that… but that nothing that was just said was false. Seeming to sense Castiel’s hesitation, Belphegor smiles. “And so beautiful,” he says. His free hand moves to cup a stubbled cheek, thumbing at it for only a moment before Cas finally manages to rip himself away, feeling sick. He’s going to be sick. That’s his—the hand, and the voice and—Castiel barely manages to keep from expelling the contents of his stomach, squeezing his eyes shut as he spins away. He wants to douse himself in bleach. He wants to burn his clothing and his body with them. He wants this imposter dead and his child back—

“I know we’re not supposed to say it ‘cause he was the Morningstar and everything, but I think you’re more radiant than he ever was. I mean, I’m the seventh prince of hell, maybe I’m a little biased towards the underdog, but damn. And your meatsuit? I was telling Dean: all the humans are so attractive, now. That body’s just yours, right? I can tell. You’re inhabiting it… it’s sexy.”

“Stop talking.”

“Oh, shit, right. It’s, uh—the kid, huh? Yeah, Dean told me he was your son. Together.”

And Castiel’s heart stops for an altogether different reason.

“He did?” Cas demands, whirling around. “He said that?”

Belphegor considers him for a moment. “…Yeah,” he finally replies. “So I guess those rumours are true, too.”

Castiel stares.

“Oh come on, you’re gonna make me say it?” Castiel stares harder. “Ugh, fine: that you’re in love with tall, badass and freckled over there. You rescued Alastair’s protégé from Hell and then fell right off your fluffy white cloud for him.”

Castiel grits his teeth. “Dean is—”

“—Righteous, yeah, so they keep telling me; gotta say, I don’t see it. But it’s all in the eye of the beholder, eh? You’re good for sticking with him. I mean, I love the guy, but he’s seriously repressed. You deserve to be treated like a god, Cas. I would never—”

“There a problem, here?”

Dean.

Castiel takes a split second to gather himself, cutting off Belphegor’s inane response as he turns to look at Dean as impassively as he possibly can. He can’t decide if he feels angry or upset or a million other emotions, but what finally comes out is: “Do you care?”

Dean looks taken aback for a moment before shaking his head. “Wow.”

“No,” Castiel pushes. “I’m genuinely curious; do you care? Or am I going to be punished for a crime I didn’t commit for the rest of eternity? I’d really like to know now so I can prepare myself—”

“Get in the fucking car, Cas.”

“With pleasure. Good talk, Dean.”

“Fuck you.”

The door slams and Belphegor grins. This was the problem with his siblings—they forgot Castiel. Sure, Sam and Dean are key players, but Cas? Dean Winchester’s angel? The angel he nearly drank himself to death for? The angel he spent months in Purgatory trying to find? The angel who nearly ended the world not once, but twice to keep him safe?

Those other losers, they had it all fucking wrong.

Pit Sam and Dean against each other, and you get a little discord at best. Dean and Castiel? Total chaos. They aren’t working together, and the whole group falls apart. What they have is electric—pure, unadulterated, apocalyptic chemistry; years and years of unresolved sexual tension, non-existent conversations and sweeping grand gestures that make them a fucking powder keg. They’ll never talk about it because they think they don’t deserve one another. It’s too perfect. Belphegor barely even has to do anything.

Long live the king, baby.

#15x01 #coda fic #15x01 coda #destiel fic #destiel coda #spn spoilers #s15 #pretty sure cas knows belphegor is a prince of hell just saying #and i didn't want to do a hurt/comfort fic because i think that'll probably be next week or the week after it still feels too fresh #but yeah i hope you enjoyed #also there was plot in this??#I dunno dudes #adventures in fanfic

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pray4jensen · 5 years

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Maybe it really is the end

deancas, coda, 15.01

You good?

Yes, but—

Dean doesn’t waste a second.

Good, he says and he turns his back to Cas.

Maybe because God is a vengeful bastard intent on conspiring against them, the Impala takes her last shuddering breath deep in the woods on a winding dirt path that promises to lead nowhere.

Dean pleads with her, caresses Baby’s wheel and gently coaxes her engine even as she slowly rolls to a stop. Under the stars, she gleams as if she’s still alive. But by the way Dean’s face contorts with grief, Cas knows that it’s at last time to say goodbye.

“Hey, asshole!” Dean shouts, picks up the heaviest thing he can find and aims it at the night sky, as if he might be able to make a dent into heaven itself. “Come down here instead of playing games, you son of a bitch.”

If God hears him, he doesn’t answer.

Dean’s rock hits an elderly pine and bounces off to break Baby’s side mirror.

You good?

Yes, but—

It’s not that Dean gives up—for hours, he tries reviving Baby—but between Sam’s ever growing exhaustion from the bullet embedded in his flesh and Jack’s—no, Belphegor’s—snide comments, even Dean eventually admits defeat.

Cas thinks that Dean will toss him out for the night—it’s only the brothers who need sleep and things between Dean and he…are not good. Sam passes out in the backseat, a light fever from his wound all that it takes for Dean to declare that Sam gets dibs on that half of the Impala. But despite his ire, Dean doesn’t protest when Cas slides up next to him—it’s only when Belphegor shoves his way in from the driver’s side that Dean grits his teeth.

Trapped between an angel and a demon, Dean instinctively shifts closer to Cas.

Then he pulls out his phone to avoid looking at him.

You good?

Yes, but—

Belphegor is one of those people who becomes uncomfortable as soon as he encounters silence so it’s no surprise when he starts talking a minute later.

“On Grindr, Dean? Got an itch to scratch? I don’t blame you. You’re pretty hot, you kn—”

Beside him, Dean stiffens, shifts even closer until their thighs press together. Cas has the urge to reach out and take Dean’s hand, finds that his chest is aching, finds that he can barely breathe when Jack’s innocent face is staring at him with such fiendish eyes.

But that would be foolish.

So he does nothing.

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Tag list (the same as last season—please let me know if you’d like to be added, removed, or if your username has changed!):

@natmoose @whyjm @cyllaeth @bend-me-shape-me @venusdebotticelli @potat-ho @wanderingcas @katherinevernet @dustythewind @19agbrown @profound-boning @sunnshine0510 @asexualcas @zolaliz @contemplativepancakes @7faerielights @thelastqueenofspades @deanmonsandangels @super-powerful-queen-slayyna @magiaveneno @who-the-fuck-is-bucky @mysteriouslyme221b @lovafangirl @dragontamerm @the-trixster-and-the-fallen @fangirlingtodeath513 @tanka-crna-linija @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @howdopeoplebeoriginal @supernaturallychaotic @dagdagsims @bluestardreamer @wingsdestiel @theladydetective @some-angelic-flowers @ezaryah @ladystiltskin67 @kipson0307 @spaceshipkat @destielhoneybee @snowiermuffin @bleedingverses @imbiowaresbitch @castielpapasito @mishtho @kinvgslayer @destielmixtape @that-one-fandom-chick @authorsararayne @trenchcoatsandfreckles @uselesstwink @luckydalmatian101 @american-phycho @crowleesi @tippy06 @proccastinate @ohmywinchesters

#spncreatorsdaily #destiel fanfic #spn spoilers #15x01 #s15codas #masterpost #it's a messy coda #and a very late coda #but dean and cas are messy so hopefully it works!!#previously: 60r3d0m

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dothwrites · 5 years

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to the future, and then the future

Theoretically, Castiel should be happier. He and Sam saved that mother and child, and the spell was enacted to trap the ghosts. They saved a town. Castiel should be happy.

The chatter of the townspeople fills his head until it’s all that he can hear. Even though the cacophony is almost deafening, Castiel appreciates it. Normally he has the steady hum and static of angel radio in the back of his head but for the past day it’s been silent. Not a blip, not anything.

Castiel wonders if Heaven is even there anymore, or if Chuck took that with him when he went, too.

He can’t stop moving. He brushes by a young mother, offers a wan smile as she starts to ask him a question, and steps outside. The sun is just setting, throwing off spears of pink and orange into the horizon. A soft breeze rustles the trees and tugs playfully at the hem of his coat. The place they’re at now, the high school, is idyllic. The grass is green and almost gleaming, the trees are neat, and even the trash cans look like they’re minding their p’s and q’s.

It’s beautiful. The world is spinning, the breeze is flowing, the grass is growing, and it’s all so beautiful that Castiel can feel each and every molecule pressing against him.

It’s obscene.

Every molecule presses against him. When it’s just the simple, loose compounds of the air, it’s one thing, but when it’s the air, the worry of a town, the lingering knowledge of the festering wound on Sam’s chest, the stretching black lines creeping out from under the edge of garish white glasses, the itching, revolting presence of the demon in Jack’s, in his boy’s body, the constant weight and pressure of Dean’s continuing anger and disdain...

Angel’s don’t breathe, but even if he wanted to, Castiel doesn’t think that he’d be able. The events of the past 24 hours are an iron vise around his chest, squeezing so tight that it hurts. It hurts, and Castiel is tired of things hurting.

The loss of Jack is a constant, empty ache in his chest. The agony ebbs and flows, and just when Castiel thinks that he’s over the worst of it, something will happen. He’ll catch sight of the abomination wearing his boy, or he’ll remember how it sounded when Jack was being burned out of his body and...A fingernail catches on the edge of the ragged wound, pulling it open, and it bleeds fresh. Castiel’s left gasping, reeling, and he realizes then that he’s never going to be all right. He’s never going to move past this.

And Dean. And Dean.

That Good, tossed out so carelessly, so spitefully. It was meant to hurt, which, well done for him. It did. The good lingers in his chest, right against the hurt from Jack. Sometimes they brush together, in an exquisite conflagration of failure and loss.

Anger features in there somewhere, the anger at Jack for fleeing without letting them help, anger at Sam for not being able to restrain Dean, anger at Mary for allowing herself to be caught in such a situation. Anger at Dean for taking this, this shining, delicate thing and shattering it so thoughtlessly. Anger at himself for ever thinking that he could have something pure, something good.

He hasn’t even allowed himself to process the suppurating wound of Chuck. He doesn’t think that he can.

“Nice night, huh?”

At first Castiel thinks that he’s imagining the voice. He did that, sometimes. In the mental ward, in Purgatory, while he was human. He would create whole scenarios around the sound of Dean’s voice. But then he looks to his right and no, it’s not a hallucination. Dean is really there, standing beside him, close enough that their elbows brush with every expansion of his chest.

“If you take away the zombies, ghosts, and absence of god, then yes,” Castiel answers. “It’s not raining at least.”

“All right Igor.” At Castiel’s pointed silence, Dean scoffs. “Come on. Young Frankenstein? I made you watch it.”

“I remember,” Castiel says softly. Those were happier times--perched on a chair in Dean’s room, his fingers greasy with butter from the popcorn, his tie loosened around his neck. Jack’s laughter echoed around the room, while Sam smiled with all the indulgence of a senile uncle. And Dean, Dean had laughed with his mouth full, spraying little bits of popcorn as he nudged Castiel, pointing out his favorite parts and sometimes talking over them so that Sam had to roll his eyes and rewind the movie.

“Yeah, well.” Dean doesn’t mention the memories of that night, not that Castiel was expecting him to. “We’ve got other problems right now.”

“Yes we do.”

It’s always been like this between them. Why has it always been like this? For ten years, they’ve been so close that Castiel bleeds when the Winchesters are hurt, and yet...He and Dean stand on opposite sides of a canyon and neither one of them is willing to begin building the bridge to span the distance.

Millions of years of existence and Castiel finds that he is tired.

“Look, I’m still...” Dean waves his hand in a gesture that Castiel supposes is meant to encompass every pitfall and problem between the two of them. “And I’m gonna be that way for a while. But...” Dean sighs and the sound hits Castiel hard in the chest. It’s the sound of an ancient man, a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Atlas had a lighter burden to bear.

“But I said once that I needed you and that ain’t changed. Not now, not ever.” Dean looks at him. The lines around his eyes are deeper than they used to be. Dean’s gotten older, Castiel realizes. He’d never noticed. “So don’t...You, me, and Sam. You know that there’s nothing we can’t do, if we’re together.”

The words are rout and Dean doesn’t even bother trying to put conviction into them. They fall, empty and hollow, into the gaping spot in Castiel where he used to keep his hope. But still, there’s some kind of strength in Dean, one that drew him in years ago, one that keeps him here, despite everything.

“So are you with us?” There’s something plaintive in Dean’s voice, moreso in his eyes. Stay, Dean’s eyes ask. Please.

Some unfurls in Castiel’s chest, like the first touch of spring on barren ground. It’s not much, in fact it’s barely anything, but it feels warm. It feels like hope.

“Of course,” Castiel answers.

“Until the end.”

#supernatural #spn spoilers #destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #15x01 coda #15x01 #dean winchester #castiel #fare thee well spn #coda fic #welcome to the end

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fangirlingtodeath513 · 5 years

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in the beginning | a 15x01 coda

It’s been a long, long time since he’s been on Earth, a couple of billion years, at least. He remembers it when it was first made, the disruption in the universe he’d felt when that puny god thought he had the right to mess with the universal balance. He’d felt the other god be locked away, the one he’d grown to like. Her powers were… delicious, and they sent primitive life forms to feed off of. At least, she had, until her brother had locked her away and created other realms for life forms to inhabit once their existences on Earth ended. After that, he’d just wanted a simple, quiet existence in his darkness where he could spend the rest of the eternity feeding off the few primitive life forms residing in his realm.

That hadn’t happened, of course, not with that pesky god around. He’d get that thing eventually, make sure it slept for the rest of eternity before messing with the cosmic balances again. So, when the tiny reaper-turned-Death had appeared on his doorstep with the Nephilim, he hadn’t hesitated to allow them to stay awake. Death has the power to reap that puny god and bring him right here, where god will stay in eternal slumber forever and he can finally be at peace in his own realm. The humans and monsters and demons and angels can have the world, he’s not concerned about them, they won’t be capable of causing cosmic shifts the way this useless, meddling god has.

The Nephilim startles away, eyes flickering between himself and Death. Death adjusts her grip on her scythe, eyeing the Nephilim.

“We should talk.”

They don’t come to a consensus. The Nephilim is infuriatingly stubborn, refusing to return to Earth without his soul. Death looks about as pleased as he feels, but the Nephilim won’t budge.

“It’ll take time to recollect the pieces of your soul. They’re in need of your assistance on Earth now, soul or no soul. You’re the key to restoring the cosmic balance.”

“No. I’ve already done enough, I won’t go back without my soul, I’ll just do more damage.”

Death shoots an exasperated look at the Nephilim before turning her attention to him. “Can you help them? I know you like your peace and quiet, but you won’t be getting any of that if the Winchesters don’t make it through the night.”

He inclines his head in a nod. He’s not pleased he’ll have to leave his realm, but it’s a small price to pay in return for eternal silence when this is all over.

“Take the Nephilim’s body. Don’t tell them who you really are, I suspect they wouldn’t take too kindly to you right now. They’d try to bargain for the boy’s life and it’ll just cost us time we don’t have.”

He inclines his head once again, sinking down to Earth. The Winchesters and their angel don’t notice him take over the boy’s body and, despite his tiny lie about being a demon, they reluctantly allow him to help.

Once they’ve successfully cleared the town and disappeared before the human authorities show up and cause trouble, he lets himself simply observe. There’s a noticeable tension between the older hunter and the angel, which won’t do. He’ll need to fix that. But first, they’ve got a cosmically unbalanced world to fix. He can worry about his claim on the angel later.

#spn spoilers #15x01 #my writing #coda fic #supernatural #supernatural fanfic

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gii-heylittleangel · 5 years

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Coda 15x01 - “Back and to the Future”

Hello there! So, how are y’all dealing with the first episode of season 15? I watched it today and I gotta say: I liked it. I was afraid to watch it and I think it could’ve been worse.

I’m hoping to be able to write a coda for every episode this season cause it’s something I really enjoy. And if I do, you can definitely wait for Cas to show up in every single one of them. I hope you like this one and come talk to me about the season. I love being able to dissecate all of the episodes.

Be ready for some snarky and suffering Cas.

Read it on AO3 or keep reading here!

After Dean walks away, Castiel stays frozen in his place, dumbstruck at Dean’s words; he didn’t expect Dean to be as cold as he was. But maybe Castiel shouldn’t have been so surprised, he actually should’ve been used to it by now. He just thought that maybe, just maybe, Dean wouldn’t be angry at him anymore, not after the recent events.

Castiel thinks he hears the demon, still using Jack’s body as if it’s the most natural thing, say something, but Castiel’s mind is too far away to process it. He passes by the demon, gaze focused anywhere other than what was once his son, almost bumping their shoulders. Castiel walks away, not paying attention to anything around him, almost deaf to the people talking behind him, to whatever the demon’s saying, and Sam and Dean talking.

He doesn’t stop walking until he’s ten feet away, stopping under a tree as he closes his eyes. All the pain he hasn’t let himself feel yet comes with a huge force, almost knocking Castiel out of his feet. He puts his hand on the tree to support himself, fighting against the tears that start to swell in his eyes. It’s all just too much for him to bear; losing whatever father figure he thought he had, losing Jack, who was his son and one of the people he loved the most, having to see a demon controlling Jack’s body. Castiel can’t deal with all of it; he has never felt so lost as he does at the moment.

A memory from not even a year ago comes to his mind; Michael telling him what Chuck did to the universes he created. How he would abandon them when they didn’t work the way he wanted, like failed versions of a book, writing story upon story to make everything the exact way he wants it to be, everyone and everything having to follow the script he created. Castiel didn’t believe Michael back then, thinking it was just Michael’s anger clouding his judgement, but, apparently, he was right.

Castiel scoffs, opening his eyes and staring at the sky. I guess I should’ve believed him because, for once, he was actually right. He feels like screaming, or punching his anger away until he doesn’t feel anything else anymore. His right hand closes in a fist in impulse, arm shaking as Castiel tries to control his want to punch something. He knows tt won’t make a difference and he’ll only waste energy, but it would feel so good to just punch something time after time, until it crumbled under him, destroyed, just like he is.

He takes a deep breath, forcing his hand to relax. It opens slowly, his arm stopping to shake as Castiel calms himself. He takes a look behind him, seeing Dean cleaning Sam’s wound, Jack—no, the demon—leaning against the Impala, arms crossed on its chest, and the people entering the school, the police officers making sure everyone’s there and safe. The one thing Castiel’s actually glad for is the fact that they managed to save almost everyone in town, take them away from the danger; at least, for the time being.

But he can’t help thinking about the ones that got killed; the two teenagers in the room, eyes almost ripped out of their sockets, thrown at the floor like rag dolls; the children that were enjoying a birthday party before Chuck decided this world wasn’t worth it anymore and got killed for it; a few adults laid on the streets as Castiel walked through them. All dead because God, the one that created all of them, who was supposed to be their guardian, decided to end it all, like a spoiled child.

Castiel takes a deep breath as Sam closes the trunk lid. He sees Dean stare at him with a brow arched but Castiel doesn’t want to deal with Dean; not now. He turns back and starts to walk away, only for a hand to come to his shoulder. He turns with a sigh, meeting Dean’s eyes.

“Where are you going?”

“Why do you care, Dean?”

Dean’s mouth opens and closes a few times, as if he’s deciding what he should say. “We have a freakin’ apocalypse to deal with and you’re just gonna bail on us?”

“I am not bailing on you, Dean, but I’m not staying either. You don’t seem like you need me and, frankly, I would rather not have to deal with you blaming me all the time. And I’m not exactly looking forward to dealing with that abomination either,” Castiel waves his hand at the demon, “so, yes, I am going.”

Sam walks closer to them, an understanding expression on his face. “Cas, we should stick together, we don’t know what’s going on out there.”

“I know, Sam, so I’m gonna find out. I’ll call you if I find anything.”

He starts to turn again but Dean’s voice stops him, “So you’re not going to stay? What, me and Sam can just go screw ourselves?

Castiel sighs before turning to Dean, his most snarky expression on. “No, I’m not staying. You and Sam are more than capable of taking care of yourselves. So, when you decide that you’re going to actually talk to me and stop blaming me for something that I didn’t do, you let me know. Until then, I have things to do.”

Castiel walks away without another thought, leaving Dean’s surprised and hurt expression behind. He doesn’t regret it; he was exactly the one trying to keep everything from falling apart, only for Dean to come and knock everything down. No, Castiel has more to do and he’s not going to stay and get blamed for everything; not this time.

#littleangelwrites #castiel #15x01 #spn coda #spn spoilers #spoilers

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monsters-demons-and-ai-oh-my · 5 years

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Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Jack Kline, Belphegor Additional Tags: Angst, Season 15 codas, Supernatural 15x01 coda, 15x01, Season 14 Spoilers, parental pain, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, brief description of gore, canon character death, Grief,

Cas is not dealing well with Jack's death, even less so with the thing that's taken up residence in his corpse.

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So.... I wrote a coda for 15x01 :)

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Castiel had thought Jack's eyes were the worst thing.

He'd watched them agonized and wide as they melted and evaporated out of Jack’s skull. Helpless to stop Chuck as his son wailed and writhed on the ground before falling suddenly silent and still. All that was left smoldering craters for sockets...

Then again before they burned Cas had thought the look in Jack's eyes was the worst thing. The blue/gray color of a very young child clouded and lost. The brightness that was Jack's soul, Jack himself faint and dim.

And before he'd thought the look in Jack's eyes was the worst thing he’d thought the light in Jack’s eyes was the worst thing, glowing with pinpricks of sickly white full of anger and grief as he burned his soul away to save them.

Before he'd thought the light was the worst thing he’d thought Jack's tired eyes were the worst thing. Heavy and shadowed with illness in a sallow washed-out face. Sad but content as he pushed himself to stay awake a few more minutes before he passed on…

He had been wrong.

Because before he could still hold Jack in his arms, and at least when his eyes were empty he could at the very least not fail in his last duty to lay Jack peacefully to rest, like he'd failed Jack in every other way...

Because this… this thing…

This dark, rotten, warped thing staring out of Jack’s shell, it's parasitic sulfur defiling every cell of his still warm corpse?

It carried itself like a drunk puppeteer carelessly waving around Jack’s limbs as if he was some oversized marionette. It liked to draw up the corners of Jack's mouth in a smile, the small gap in his teeth overlayed with the demons gaping rotten maw…

It took everything in Cas not to rip it out, smite it where it stood.

But the thought of seeing Jack's face light up with that terrible angelic glow again, hearing Jack's voice raised in a scream again...

"I… I can't even look at him."

#SPN spoilers #SPN #Supernatural #ficlet #15x01 coda #Castiel #Jack Kline #Balphegor #fanfiction #spoilers #15x01 #the people in Cas's life aren't acknowledging his pain so I will

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dfenestrate · 5 years

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spn s15.01 coda

welcome to the end (rise and fall again)

“Chuck,” Dean had said, turning to face Sam and Castiel. “He said ‘Welcome to the end’ What…” There was a still pause, Castiel remembered. One that was accompanied by an extreme wave of worry. “What did that mean?”

It was at this moment that Dean had turned to face Castiel directly.

It was at this moment that Castiel had simply shrugged, indicating that he didn’t know.

Back in the car, drive away from the graveyard, Castiel leaned back into his headrest and closed his eyes tightly.

He did. He did know.

The faint lights of another stray car on the road reflected off of Castiel’s crestfallen face. The angel remained still, eyes opening as the lights came close quickly, leaving in just about the same fashion.

He knew.

alt; Castiel knew what Chuck meant by "Welcome to the End". This is his internal response to it.

[click on the title for the ao3 link OR click “Keep Reading” to read the whole piece]

[look at me!!! publishing a coda!!! the day of the next episode!!! (at least i'm getting it in before the new episode tho haha) i wrote this at 3 am and it's very loosely edited]

[listen to the “Famous Final Scene” whilst reading this]

The doors were shaking as the hellish ghosts continued to bang furiously against the iron-studded wood.

Castiel stood frozen in the middle of the room, looking frantically around the crypt, finding nothing but dark and gloom. Jack’s body laid lifelessly on the floor, the faint silhouette visible in Castiel’s periphery. Overwhelmed with his own emotions and the continuous battering of the door, the angel continued to look away and about, finding himself more and more lost than he had ever been.

To either side of him, Sam’s and Dean’s voices carried over through his haze. Castiel tried to follow the conversation the brothers were having, his eyes wide and breathing shallow. Rather than forming into actual words to the angel’s awareness, the information of the exchange melded with the muddle of Castiel’s perception.

He vaguely remembered Dean asking a question. He vaguely remembered shrugging in a futile attempt to reply to the equally anxious hunter. Dean’s anxiety at that moment had been through the roof, radiating off of the human, the emotion spilling into Castiel’s space as well. Processing the extra wave of feeling, the shrug was little to no help, leaving the three stuck.

Later, much later, as Dean drove Baby away from the crypt, Sam in the passenger, Belphegor in the back with him, Castiel found himself actually remembering the question.

It was at this moment that Dean had turned to face Castiel directly.

It was at this moment that Castiel had simply shrugged, indicating that he didn’t know.

Back in the car, drive away from the graveyard, Castiel leaned back into his headrest and closed his eyes tightly.

He did. He did know.

He knew.

Think in terms of bridges burned

And he knows.

He knows what it means. The message becomes more and more clear when the angel finds himself unable to heal Sam’s wound, the dark energy of the injury overtaking him almost immediately.

Sam’s dismissive of the issue, his gait staggered and cautious.

Castiel is worried, looking at Sam with concerned eyes. He knows, and the knowledge brings him nothing but worry.

Think of seasons that must end

Fighting the ghosts only to trap them, ultimately signing off on yet another nearly unresolvable issue, leads Castiel to another wave of realization.

The stakes are high. Oh, so high.

They’re running, the angel realizes, his hand held by the frantic mother. They’re running, running away from the problem and towards what was a false and temporary place of security.

Temporary. That’s the key term that rushes through Castiel, perpetuating the dread that had been in him all along.

“Welcome to the end.”

And Castiel knows.

You can’t run away from the end.

See the rivers rise and fall

Castiel steps away from Belphegor, Dean’s sudden moment of care and dismissal reeling in his head. He walks and walks and walks—not too far, but not too close, finding himself looking for sanctuary in the school’s play area.

There’s a bench to the side of the lonely playground. It’s cold and empty, and, as if per instinct, the angel takes his seat on the lonely bench, hands held politely on his lap. He straightens his back.

And he watches. He watches the empty world in front of him go around.

Images of the graveyard, of the bodies and of the ghosts and their kill count flash through Castiel’s head.

“Welcome to the end” Castiel hears the phrase in Dean’s voice, laced with the same scared and frantic tone as before.

Images of Jack, Belphegor, Dean, and Sam flash in Castiel’s head, adding fuel to the fire.

It’s all too much. The overwhelming emotions and feelings from earlier rise with Castiel again, driving the angel to crouch over, shut his eyes, and hold his head in his hands.

And he starts to shake.

A part of him shakes as he thinks of the energy in Sam’s wound. A part of him shakes as he thinks of Jack and his ultimate fate. A part of him screams as he thinks of all that had happened between him and Dean.

It isn’t until his memories settle on a certain voice that Castiel’s tremblings cease to a freeze.

“Welcome to the end.”

Chuck.

“Welcome to the end,” Castiel whispers. He brings his head up and looks straight ahead at nothing.

He knows what it means. And it frightens him, chilling him down to the weak essence of his remaining grace.

This is it.

This is the end.

And that is final, Castiel finds himself believing. There’s nothing but the end.

How do you run away from the end?

How do you defeat the end?

Perhaps it was due to his crush of faith in seeing his father dawn on them what was simply their own annihilation that had led Castiel to the point of disbelief. Back on the bench, the angel finds himself doubting again, feeling the agony of the familiarly confusing feelings.

Sighing, the angel shakes his head, unsure of how he and the brothers were going to—as Dean would say— “bounce back” from this one.

Moments pass and he reaches nowhere in his efforts of thinking. The overtaking emotions were still present, clouding the angel’s reasoning.

How will they do it? Castiel wonders, standing up from the bench. The play area is still empty, almost lifeless. Even in the faint winds, the swings to the end don’t dare to swing.

The angel keeps looking on forward, still and unable to bring himself to move.

And so he doesn’t, hands in his pocket, frozen in spot.

How were they going to do it? How were they going to beat this?

Could they even beat the end?

They will rise and fall again

Castiel walks back from his moment at the bench. His hands are still in his pockets, his gaze held low. He stops at a distance, raising his head to look over what seemed to be a bittersweet interaction between Sam and Dean.

He sees Dean smile, Sam smile, and then each of the smiles fall.

Had Castiel been smiling, his smile would’ve fallen as well.

And so, he just stands present in his spot, knowingly.

Could they?

Everything must have an end

He needs to hold onto what he’s got, Castiel realizes as he reenters the Impala. All three of them were present but not completely engaging, each of their avoidance of comment and conversation overtaking the air. A few moments in, Belphegor goes silent, reading the tension of the car.

The day turns into evening with the residents of the town kept away safely in the high school. Tired and on-edge, the Impala revs out of the parking lot, turning straight for the high school, towards the direction of the cage of ghosts they had just created.

As the four of them drive off with the car remaining silent and the sky changing colors in the background, Castiel knows.

This was it.

This was the end.

And he hated and feared it all at once.

#spn #spn coda #my spn fic #spn 15x01 #spn fic #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #mine #my writing #my spn #i wrote this at 3 am of the day of the new episode wow

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