1 - 20 of 50 Works in Quote: Angels are watching over you. (Supernatural)
He watches from behind the wall as Dean creeps slowly down the stairs, ensuring that his footfalls are almost silent. Stranger still is huge bag strapped to his back… if Sam didn’t know better he’s say its… moving?
“Dean!” he snaps, letting his worry show, “Cass just… vanished in a plume of … trench-coat and before that… I saw something… I don’t even understand this.” He sputters.
Impassive, Dean just glances towards the exit.
“Did you hear me?” he tries again.
“Yup.” Dean assures, still glancing at the door, “Heard you like a bell. We’ll talk in the morning Sammy. Night.”
“Night?” he parrots. “Cass is in trouble.”
“Cass is a um, heh.” He laughs, “Big boy.”
Why isn’t he doing anything? And what’s in that damn bag?
Sam wrenches it open.
Sam takes a good long look at the child who now sits happily at their table. Glow-y blue eyes, hair dark as night, an unflinching stare that seems to be directed only at Dean, chewing on Dean’s index finger like it’s candy. With jerky motions he wraps the trench-coat around the child, still unable to reconcile what he knows with what he sees.
Dean laughs, “Now you really are a baby in a trench-coat.” Cass bites down.
A bunch of one-shots based on how I think Supernatural will end.
“There’s something I’ve always wanted to know… so I’ll give you a chance to save them.” Chuck raises one finger then. “One of them.”
“What?” Sam snaps, glancing around with wild eyes. “It’s Dean, you gotta save Dean.”
His voice is desperate yet resigned. Sam’s breaths come in pants and he’s clearly frazzled. The brothers clearly recognize that Chuck means business. Castiel tries to catch Dean’s gaze, to try and gauge his reaction but he’s facing Sam, staring at his brother intently.
As expected, Dean shakes his head no before turning to face the angel. “Cass, you know Sammy has a future. Please. Do this for me.”
He’s never been able to deny Dean anything. But doing this would mean losing him. And if he saves Dean, they lose Sam. It’s an impossible choice. Castiel feels his eyes burn and he’s forced to look away from Dean. How can he pick one when they both mean so much to him? It feels like he isn’t in his body, like some other person is standing here, being asked to pick which one of their family members lives and which dies. Flashes of their bodies on the ground, eyes burnt out swarm his mind.
Sam... or Dean?
You always had your angels watching over you, since the day you were born. They were to protect you, and to make sure you were happy. Until they all disappeared.
“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.
“You told me in tongues.” Dean snaps “Can you try it again in English?”
At his side, Cass bristles. “My deal is when I’m happy he will take me.”
“Dean.” He begins. “The things that can make me happy are numbered. When the Shadow peered inside my mind, it saw everything. My feelings of inadequacy and uselessness, my greatest fears, my enemies… the people I love.”
“I’m not saying you made the wrong call Cass.” He says gently. “Just - why didn’t you tell us?”
“What would that have done?”
“Something.” Dean insists. “We'd have gone face to face with that monster!”
“There it is.” Cass says softly. “What good would that have done? The thing that could make me happy… facing off against the being who wishes to take it all away?”
That gives Dean pause. “Me and Sam… we make you happy?”
“Yes.” Cass says carefully. “Being with you and Sam brings me great joy.”
“Dean.” Cass says sternly, catching his attention. “Once I thought that you knew. You are a connoisseur in matters such as this. Now, that we're in a place that is all our own, I think you’re ready to hear this.”
Dean’s been ready for the past hour, but okay.
“You make me unbelievably happy Dean.”
He doesn’t understand why Dean likes forcing them to watch his old stupid Westerns. Most times, Sam just goes along with it because he can just tune it out. Of course it helps that Cass always shows up for Dean’s movie marathons. He supposes it’s because Cass is a fan of hanging out with them. Or it could be because he likes popped corn. He usually eats at least an entire bowl-full, despite not actually needing to. Dean especially enjoys the way he sometimes uses his grace to pop the hard kernels that settle to the bottom.
With Cass’ grace waning though, Sam doubts that there will be any antics tonight.
Cass and Dean have just recently gotten back on speaking terms. And unsurprisingly, there was no gentle progression back into friendship. Both seemed eager to just pick up where they left off immediately.
Cass makes a strange noise as he stares down at his phone. Sam gives him a quizzical look.
“Dean, can you pause?” He asks.
Dean presses pause and looks between then, with a miffed expression.
Sam just shrugs.
“Sam.” Cass says slowly. “You spell my name as ‘C-a-s-s.’ Why?”
Castiel takes Sam up on the way he spells his name
07 May 2020
Dean fiddles with his glass. “I uh, now that this is over. Now that we can have a normal life. I’ve been thinking of starting something.”
Dean Winchester’s love. He knows that he must have it; in a certain capacity. But he wants it to be different. He wants Dean’s love to be of the same caliber as his… from the same deep seated desire.
“I’m happy for you Dean.”
“No you’re not.” He says with a dry look. “Do you want to at least meet them?”
Castiel would rather jump into hell but okay.
“Where is she?”
Surveying the room, he finds nothing out of place. Castiel wonders where Dean’s lady is.
In typical Dean fashion, he saunters up to the closet and rips it open.
Castiel walks closer anyway, curiosity waring with his jealousy.
He looks inside and finds nothing.
“Do you see them?” Dean questions eagerly.
“No.” he says sourly.
Dean rolls his eyes. “Look closer.”
Castiel looks for the hell of it. And nothing. Big surprise.
“I see nothing but your lumberjack clothes and this infuriating mirror.”
Dean chuckles at his discomfort. “And who’s in the mirror, jackass?”
Castiel looks back, just to confirm.
Dean pauses, hesitating slightly with one hand half raised. “You’re sure he’s sleeping right?”
Cass grins. “Definitely.”
“Are you like a bajillion percent sure?” Dean asks again, nervousness making his featured pinch.
Laying an arm on his hand, Cass whispers: “Yes Dean. He’s asleep. I should know because I see the same patterns when you are asleep.”
“Your creeper habits are coming in handy then.” Dean teases.
Cass shakes his head wryly, but his eyes are still filled with mirth. His head slowly gravitating towards Dean.
Their lips meet and their eyes shut in bliss. Dean’s hands make their way to Cass’ nape whilst Cass’ hands come up to cup Dean’s face, dragging him closer.
“Woah.” Dean says suddenly, his eyes darting back to Sam again. “Here?”
Sam is just trying to sleep and Dean and Cass make some noise!
Which, of course, results in: sam.exe has stopped functioning
The wind blows harshly against his back, pushing him towards his destiny.
What will Sam do when he finds out that Dean drugged him and bolted?
He can’t just not call.
Dean dials the number. Cass number.
“Hello Dean.” He can practically hear Cass squint. “Where are you? The cell signal is substandard.”
“Well.” He says brightly. “That’s the ocean for you.”
“You went to the beach?” Cass voice is dry and unbelieving.
“Cass.” He says, “I just called to say… goodbye.”
“Wait!” Cass says urgently. “Where are you going Dean? Is it fishing? Because if it is, I can come with you. I’m quite capable of standing immobile with a stick.”
Dean smiles. “Thanks for the offer Cass, but no.”
Dean hears a loud sound then. Like a door slamming shut. The only place with a door that sounds like that… is the bunker.
The bunker with poisoned Sam.
“You’re at the bunker.” He whispers in horror.
He almost drops the phone into the ocean.
This was a mistake.
Cass must have been tracking the call all this time. And Dean had babbled on and on and now Cass probably has his-
“And you’re on Vágur. You always did pick the best places to die.”
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.
“Cass.” He says, “I need you.”
The prayer flows off his lips easily, the emotion itself is familiar; the words, not so much.
Countless times, those words had been on the tip of his tongue. But something always held them back.
He just hopes that Cass will listen.
“You don’t have to do anything.” He assures. “If you leave right now, I promise, you and I will still be good.”
“I know.” Cass says. “But I’ll come with you. Wherever you go.”
Their eyes connect and Dean sees the sincerity in them.
“Tell me what you need Dean.”
Dean licks his lips and turns, blowing the dust off of an old record player.
“Dean wait!” Cass’ voice comes out in a rush, halting Dean’s hand. The panic in his friend’s voice is palpable. “I promised I wouldn’t leave again.” Cass says, his voice shaking.
Dean fists his hand together to stop them from shaking. “You don’t have to do this.” He assures.
“But I want to.” Cass admits. “You don’t know how much I want this Dean. You.” Cass’ voice is wrecked, his expression pained as though the conversation is physically killing him.
“Then what’s wrong.”
Blue eyes flash to his, filled with tears, regret and love. “The Shadow.”
Cass taking the mark had been logical at the time. Dean couldn’t do it. Sam wasn’t there.
Chuck is gone and Dean feels more on edge than ever.
He watches Cass like a hawk. Not because he doesn’t trust him, but because he knows how hard it is. He wants Cass to talk to him… let it out in the ways Dean never had… but he doesn’t know how to approach him.
As the days pass, they eat together, they watch movies together and they pretend everything is fine. But every night, exactly at midnight, he watches as Cass sneaks out of the bunker only to return two hours later. His clothes would be clean of blood. Too clean in fact. Most times they looked freshly pressed and had the distinct fresh scent of washing liquid.
He never calls him out on it.
He doesn’t want to know.
It breaks his heart.
But one day Dean can’t take it anymore. He waits for Cass to sneak out before following him in the Impala... and what he finds is more horrible than anything he could have ever expected.
Set in the universe that Chuck showed to Sam, this is the scene where Dean buries Castiel in the Ma'lak box - but with a twist
“Sam, what’s wrong?” Eileen cups his face trying to steady his frantic movements.
Sam rests the bottle of whiskey to his side. “I think my brother is fucking an angel.”
How I want the finale to go down.
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.
I know I'm not the only frustrated queer woman watching this show (or frustrated woman in general), so I wrote something just for us. I un-fridged Charlie and gave her a friend/potential love interest. This fic doesn't focus on our favorite closet cases. It follows our favorite loud, proud, nerdy, Pride Queen.
Charlie didn't move on after she died. She's trapped on Earth. She's not strong enough to manifest and interact with the physical world and she becomes increasingly desperate. She has vital information about the current Big Bad and she needs to tell her friends. Things seem bleak and hopeless until one day something bizarre happens and changes everything.
Charlie sees a monster approaching her haunting ground and she seems to be the only one who realizes the danger. She musters up the courage to banish the beast. She's not at all prepared for what happens next.
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.
“Do you-” the words seem forced out and Dean sighs, “Want to – talk?”
Cass doesn’t look at him again, just straight ahead, like whatever decision Dean makes is of no consequence to him. Maybe it isn’t. But this is Dean’s chance.
Acceptance. He just lost one friend but he has the chance to save another.
Taking a deep breath, he lowers himself directly across from Cass; in his line of sight.
“I had this friend.” He begins, “Lee. He was everything I wasn’t. Charismatic, loud… Dad – Dad loved him.”
Castiel extends an olive branch and Dean grasps it with both hands. They finally talk and feelings ensue.
What if the righteous man wasn't who we were led to believe? What if Castiel saved the wrong man from Hell?
Castiel must have known Dean Winchester before he 'gripped him tight and raised him from perdition,' because why else would he betray everything he knows for a human who he has known less than a few days.
The way Sam complains about the weird nature documentaries on his Netflix profile, the slight creaking of the chair next to him at dinner. The way there’s always a Cass sized shape at the end of his bed.
It’s like he’s Scrooge and the ghost of Angel Past is haunting him
“Oh my God, Dean!” Sam shouts, jarring him from his thoughts, “Don’t move! The painkillers are floating! Grab some iron, I’ll get the salt!”
Sam screams at him, but Dean just sits there in a trance.
“You can see that?” he asks softly.
Sam hauls him away and Dean just stares as the pack falls flat.
“I don’t understand how a ghost got in here.” Sam sounds exasperated, “I thought they all got sucked into hell. Dean? Say something!”
“There’s a ghost.” Sam huffs, “That’s why my Netflix account is acting up and why our things are going missing.”
Dean clears his throat, trying to force the words out. He thought he had been hallucinating for days, but if Sam can see it too… “It’s not a ghost.” He says slowly.
Dean can barely speak, but he only needs one word: “Cass.”
In a split second Cass appears before them... he hadn’t left.
He remains paralysed, dumbstruck. “You stayed.”