1 - 20 of 143 Works in Castiel is So Done (Supernatural)
“I think it’s time for me to move on.” Everyone leaves.
A calliope of sound bombards him.
So much for ‘we are real.’ So much for them.
Maybe they could have fixed things. He knew they’d both done things and said things. There hadn’t been time to think about what he feels… to separate emotion from adrenaline. But the angel had decided it was too late. He’d decided it was too late just like he’d decided not to tell them about Jack… when he decided to change the plan.
Maybe this is for the best. But…
Every receding footstep thuds like a nail.
Against the metal stair case that leads to the door.
‘Welcome to the end.’
Nailing him to his coffin.
He can move on.
But his feet remain rooted to the dirt outside the bunker door; the home that was never really his.
After thousands of years he can tell when something is broken... and yet, he’d stood in the glass, bleeding out for far too long.
The moon shone brightly, the insects chirped and the world carried on once more… utterly oblivious to how close it had been to ending.
Castiel walks away numbly yet all too raw. The earth may be fine but his world had just imploded.
“Fourteen days? Seriously, Cas? We have to self-quarantine for two weeks?”
Castiel sighs, already regretting his decision to let Dean stay with him—he’d been about to leave, so close he practically had one foot out the door—but he’s got nowhere else to go besides his brother’s place in Paulo Alto, halfway across the country.
When the country is forced into quarantine, Dean and Castiel get stuck together for two weeks. Castiel regrets his kindness almost immediately.
By the end of the two weeks, though?
“I want you to tell me why my name was on that DVD!” he shrieks.
That makes Dean pull up short. Cass is the picture of calm. He doesn’t scream or show emotions in general. “What’re you talking about man?” he asks, forcing his voice not to sound as gruff. He pats the edge of the bed and smiles as the bed dips with Cass’ weight. “Talk to me.”
Hands gripping the edge of the bed, Cass gulps, turning his head to Dean. He sees the panic in his friend’s eyes. “I just – I don’t understand things. And what I’m feeling right now… it’s just too much. It feels too intense. And I just can’t breathe. It’s wrong. I know it’s wrong to feel like this but I just – I can’t stop it Dean.”
“What can’t you stop?”
Eyes, raw and brimming with emotion, Cass stares at him. “Why was my name on that DVD?”
“I don’t know.” Dean tries to convey his sincerity. “I really don’t know Cass.”
“But it said Cass.” His voice is small. “When I saw it on your bed, I thought it was mine.”
A chill goes through him. Cass … he couldn’t mean that DVD… could he?
“What DVD?” his voice is almost shrill. It’s like the babysitter and the pizza man all over again.
“Cas-a Erotica.” Says Cass.
20 Mar 2020
Their final moments are upon them. They’ve played their final card and Chuck is announcing curtain call. But Dean still has a few seconds left. A few seconds to right the only wrong he’s ever truly regretted.
So Dean will do the only thing he can do. His one final move in the famous final scene of Chuck’s shitty story. Something that Chuck believed completely unfathomable. Something, that, throughout all the universes, he’d never seen – not once.
Dean is about to answer a question that Cass should have never even needed to ask.
And maybe – maybe – one last ditch effort in a world gone mad is enough to turn the tides just enough so they might hear what ‘the exultant sound of a canon booming in the night’ really means.
Instead of sending them to Purgatory, Michael traverses all the universes with Dean and Castiel in the hopes of finding one where good prevailed and Chuck was defeated. Along the way Dean and Castiel's relationship is put under strain.
Will Michael play mediator?
Will the alternate versions of Dean, Sam and Castiel force them to face their decisions and mend their relationship?
What ‘the exultant sound of a canon booming in the night’ really mean?
The body on the pyre is something neither of them wish to see.
Yet, out of respect, they hold their gaze steady, watching as Dean – or what remains of him – slowly burns.
The listen to the sickening, squelching ‘pop’ as his skull explodes from the heat.
How is he supposed to carry on without his big brother. Even in his last moments, Dean had pulled Cass close and told him to look out for Sam.
To his left Cass stands, a dissonant figure, his coat almost slipping off. The poison had been something not even angel grace could heal.
He remembers the frantic way Cass had shoved him aside when Dean fell to the floor. It had been after a hunt.
“I hate witches.” Dean gasps, hanging onto Cass like a lifeboat.
“It’s okay Dean.” Sam assured. “We’ll bring you back.”
“No.” Dean coughed, blood splattering everywhere. “We need to stop Sam. Just let me go.”
“No.” Sam insisted. “It can’t end like this. I won’t allow it.”
Dean’s eyes drift to Cass. “Promise me. You’ll watch over him. Let me go. Both of you.”
To his surprise Cass had just leaned down, pressing a kiss to Dean’s nose. Then they stared at each other.
“It was real. You were never alone.”
When Metatron tells Castiel that Dean is dead... he does what any rational being would do: he frantically and chaotically combs through all of Heaven to find Dean's soul.
One-shots of all the ways Castiel can be taken by The Empty.
“I’d like to welcome you all here today to mourn the passing of a good friend.” His voice is solemn, the slight waver indicates that something is actually wrong – that Dean isn’t just playing a prank on them.
“He’s stuck with me for years.” Dean exhales. Castiel glances at Sam to see if he has any inkling of what is happening.
Why would Dean call them here? Today? To stand near a shallow grave?
The set-up is a funeral. Not a hunter’s funeral but a more traditional one. But, the thing is, there’s no body to be seen. And in Castiel’s knowledge, for a funeral, you need a corpse.
Sam raises his hand half-way.
“What?” Dean seems annoyed.
“Are you talking about Cass?”
“No. Sam!” Dean rolls his eyes. “How can we have a funeral for Cass if he’s standing right there.”
"What I'm trying to say is that I love you Cass"
Castiel takes a step forward, wanting to pull Dean close – to hug him or to taste his lips, for the very first time – when he feels the tugging on his grace.
In his confusion, he stumbles, falling directly into the grave that Dean dug.
Never to rise again.
The plunge into darkness is sudden, but not concerning due to the bunker’s back up generators. The lack of complaint from Dean though is what gets him. His brother hadn’t even shouted out in complaint. Last he heard, Dean and Cass were watching some Western movie. Dean is always pissed when they have to pause… somehow, every part is ‘the good part.’ He truly pities Cass at this moment; Dean must be pitching a fit.
At first the outages had been but a minor inconvenience. Now, it’s maddening.
He’s been keeping a catalogue of the dates and times it’s been happening. But he could find no correlation. Sometimes it’d happen almost three times a day and others not even once. So, Sam had started analysing the reasons why this could be happening.
The bunker’s wiring was fine as far as he could tell – not like they could call in an electrician. Maybe he should ask Dean to check. His brother has always been better with this stuff.
Dean never seems to be around when this happens. In fact, it almost always happens when Dean and Cass have their movie nights.
It’s almost as if the universe is conspiring against them.
“You know what?” Dean mutters, mostly to himself. He really is trying to be less of a jerk - but he can’t seem to help it. It’s Valentine’s day, and it’s hot. So he decides to stop talking, and takes off his jacket, a deep blue leather utility, and shucks it away on a counter.
Cas seems to find this interesting, his eyes following Dean around the room; so then Dean does the first thing that comes to mind.
He walks over to Cas, and holds his hand out.
Cas stares at it, like he’s trying to figure out the purpose of its existence. Dean helps him, because he’s awesome like that.
Because why the fuck not?
- Part 1 of Valentine's 2020
The lights that gleam in the darkness indicate that they’re close to the place Dean now calls his home. It’s made entirely out of wood, with a rocking chair of all things, in the porch. Though the windows and past the gold hued curtains he can make out a king sized bed – memory foam, no doubt – and two recliners facing the jumbo T.V. Past that, is a kitchen. Outfitted with a fridge, stove, hot plate and a small dining table… set with two chairs.
He stops on the edge of the property, turning to face Dean in shock. “You knew I’d come here.”
His shrug is anything but nonchalant. “Figured Sammy’d send you after me. But I kind of hoped that you’d want to be here too.”
“Of course I do.” His hand lingers on the door knob. “And – and what did you expect us to do when I got here?”
It’s a loaded, and he knows it. They never talked about this so openly before, but if not now… then when?
“I have two chairs.” Dean says, his hand moving over Castiel’s so that they turn the door knob together. He feels chills from the contact… from the intensity of Dean’s gaze. “I have two recliners.” Dean’s breath ghosts across his neck. “But how many bed’s do you see?”
Thoroughly fed up with Dean’s inability to open up emotionally, Cas walks away only to find comfort in another man’s embrace.
The one where Dean realizes his mistakes, but will there be enough time?
25 Jan 2020
Castiel fights to remain still under Dean’s ministrations as he swipes his thumb over the creases and sunken areas near Cass’ eyes. “You’re aging.”
“Are you – do you feel afraid.”
He looks Dean straight in the eye and with sincerity says: “No.” Because he isn’t afraid. He can still hear Dean’s prayer echoing inside his skull, like a song that had been seared into his brain. “I have you … and Sam to help me.”
“You do.” Dean’s voice is rough. Castiel realises how close to the things that should remain unspoken he’s treading, but he can’t help himself. Not when Dean is staring at him like that, eyes almost begging him to be the one to take the plunge.
“I –” Castiel clears his throat and squares his shoulders. “Maybe now I can grow old with you…” his pause is deliberate. His voice cutting off more abruptly than it should, leaving Dean with no choice than to recognise the pause for what it is; a fallacy. The barrier between what Dean perceives is right and wrong. The blockade separating the unspoken from the harrowing truth they’ve both known subconsciously for years.
And Castiel can’t bear to break it.
“… and Sam.”
The bunker door slams behind him and he finally lets his walls drop. Three sobs burst from his chest in quick succession. That is all he allows himself. Anything else would be excessive.
“We are.” He had said to Dean. And at the time he’d believed it… because he couldn’t bear not to.
Dean had realised though; they weren’t real.
Soft chirping comes from a nearby bush. Inside a small nest is a lone dove, it’s wing is broken. Castiel can relate. He strokes the bird’s head tenderly and it nuzzles at him with its beak. “You’ll be okay.” He assures, taking a moment to appreciate the plushness of its feathers. He releases a small trickle of grace, instantly mending the bird’s wing. It chirps again, happily and burrows into his hand in thanks.
There was once a time when the bird’s aura would be enough to indicate it’s feelings but with his powers failing steadily, even that is no longer available to him. Even Dean’s soul… he would have liked to see it one last time… even that simple pleasure had been revoked.
So Castiel made his way towards his new life completely unaware that something sinister was watching him and to the pile of rotting flesh that lay just a few yards away.
Cass uses the phrase: “I’m extremely old, I think I’m entitled” exactly five times.
1. During his mid-life crisis
2. To justify eating the last slice of Dean's pie
3. As an excuse - angels like sleeping on memory foam too
4. To finally convince Dean that he can drive the Impala
5. Because he's tired of hiding just how profound their bond is
Sam hopes that Lucifer won't destroy anything on his shopping trip with Dean. Not that his life isn't weird enough and Michael refuses to share.
As long as the angel doesn't level a building, he figures it might all turn out okay.
- Part 2 of Misbehaving
“Picking a flower like this has a price.” Cass continues, “A Leviathan Blossom needs to consume – devour the vessel which picks it.” Dean’s eyes dart to Cass’ upper arm, as another red patch appears. “I needed to do this Dean. You taught me freewill – right and wrong. And I just needed to prove that I do know the difference.”
“A Leviathan Blossom needs to consume – devour the vessel which picks it.”
“And – I’m so tired of you hating me. It’s just better this way.” The intensity of his gaze bores into Dean. Stripping away the layers of hurt and betrayal. This is their bond. Something profound. But despite it all. Cass’ words ring in his ears like a chant. Taunting him. There’s no way to save his friend. He grips the coat tighter. Dean’s throat burns with the force of the words trapped behind his lips.
“A Leviathan Blossom needs to consume – devour the vessel which picks it.
“It’s better this way? Right?” Cass’ eyes shine with an unspoken plea.
“A Leviathan Blossom needs to consume – devour the vessel which picks it.
“Yes.” Dean says firmly. “Yes.”
“… the vessel.”
He's leaving again and there's only one thing Dean can do:
Cass.” Dean breathes a heavy sigh. “Hope you’ve got your ears on.”
Dean sees him freeze, one hand lingering on the edge of the table. After Purgatory… After Purgatory things were bad. In Purgatory, things were bad.
It was tumultuous. It brought up all the emotions that Dean doesn’t want associated with the angel right now. Like the need to kill his way through monster heaven just to find an angel who never wanted to be found.
Cass is right. He can’t talk to him; can’t look him in the eye.
But Dean can pray… not that he’s any good at that either.
The praying scene... except Cass is two feet away.
"Shhhh, don't worry, Cassie. I won't let that happen, you'll never have to harm another one of our brothers and sisters as long as I am around to prevent it."
It was an empty promise, he knew that, but it was what Castiel needed to hear and what Gabriel wanted to believe. But there wasn't a way for him to protect his little brother forever, not when he couldn't stand to be in Heaven for another day, another hour, another instant.
Unless he brought Castiel with him.
Or, in which Gabriel doesn't leave Heaven by himself and instead takes a certain human-loving fledgling with him. He does his thing and becomes a Trickster, while Castiel goes around healing good people in bad situations.
Alternatively, there really needed to be more Castiel and Gabriel bonding time and shit, so I rewrote a bunch of stuff to make that happen.
1. The colour of his soul
2. His green eyes
3. The way his smile has crow’s feet
4. The way he obsesses over pie and bacon
5. The way he calls me buddy and pats my shoulder – even though I’m an angel
6. His aptitude level
7. ‘Baby’ – that car is almost a part of him
9. His cooking
10. His disposition
11. His taste in music and movies (Especially the mix tape he gave me.)
12. The way he looks at me
Dean finds a list of all the things Cass doesn’t like about it. It’s getting closer to Christmas so he wants the angel to stick around. The only logical thing to do is to fix everything on the list.
Castiel feels lonely and unwanted after leaving the bunker. What has always made him happiest. He reads online that you can make yourself happier by making a list about the things you love. Dean is never supposed to find it.
Misunderstandings and Christmas fluff galore.
So this is how my last night of collage ended.
With me standing in the middle of my shitty living room with two of my brothers on either side of me, our hound sitting by the feet of Gabriel as we all watched in a mix between discomfort and humor as Michael plagued his loyalty to a rotting Banana.
- Part 5 of One shot collection