*after the whole Jack thing is resolved.*

Dean: Cas, can you pass me the salt?

Cas: I thought I was dead to you.

Dean: I told you I’m sorry.

Cas: And I’m dead to you.

Dean (to Sam): How long is he going to do this?

Cas: Talking about me in third person, ‘cause I’m dead to you?

Dean: *slams head against the table*

Wish Fulfillment

Title: Wish Fullfilment

Author: Hekate1308

Prompt: Bells and Ice

The snow was falling, purifying the land. It had been snowing for three days now, and the night didn’t seem dark, not with the white blanket covering the streets.

She couldn’t see where she was going; the thick flakes fell into her hair and eyes, and she didn’t know how she had come here, or why, but she knew that she had to keep walking because she was lost.

And the bells.

The bells were calling out to her. If she found them, everything would be alright; if she found them, she could make her way home…

She stumbled on.

It was the fourth frozen body that had shown up in Michigan in the space of two weeks. When Sam told Dean and Cas, his brother was quick to point out that there was nothing surprising about that.

“It’s January in Michigan, Sam. It’s gonna be cold up there. That’s how it is”.

Sam rolled his eyes.

“When I said frozen, I meant frozen. They were completely encased in an ice crust. The authorities had to wait for them to thaw to find out the cause of death”.

“I’m gonna go with freezing” Dean said, pouring himself another cup of coffee.  

“You would be wrong” Sam replied, looking over his laptop screen at Cas. The former angel, as they had soon found out after they had convinced him that they wanted him to stay, was very quiet in the morning and usually wouldn’t talk unless he had at least three cups of coffee in him. Just like he’d just got some more for himself, Dean was now filling up Cas’ cup, and Sam decided not to comment on the familiarity in which he put two spoonful of sugar in it or the expression in Cas’ eyes as he did so.

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And Yet Feels Shorter Than A Day - A Destiel fanfiction, Post 10x22

Summary: Day followed after day. He barely noticed it. Time had lost all meaning in the moment Dean had turned around and had left him, not an angel, not a human, not even Cas anymore. And yet he watched as Dean tore the world apart. Post 10X22. Destiel.

Warnings: Rated T for Violence and Major Character Death.

Read it on ff.net and AO3

Day followed after day. He barely noticed it. Time had lost all meaning in the moment Dean had turned around and had left him, not an angel, not a human, not even Cas anymore.

Sam counted every minute, every second bringing new agony of terror and ever-diminishing hope, and Cas hung around, trying to be there for him when he wasn’t even sure he was there at all; maybe he had ceased to really exist looking at the blade stuck a few inches from his face, knowing that Dean could have plunged it into his body and he still wouldn’t have tried to fight him.

Sam was frantic, adamant in his belief that his brother could be saved. Cas knew he couldn’t. Dean had gone too far, had become lost.

And yet –

And yet there was still a part of him left. And that was what hurt the most; knowing that there was a small sliver of that soul, of that bright, wonderful soul that Cas had once rescued from Hell, left even as Dean was murdering and torturing innocents without a second thought.

Cas could not even wish that Dean had killed him. He didn’t want him to be alone. He couldn’t bring himself to leave him alone in a world he was set to destroy.

It took years to make the younger Winchester finally realize that going against his brother openly would lead to his demise; years of still warm bodies left in Dean’s wake, years of news coverage of the serial killer that had died twice and yet come back again, years of research.

Cas never could really convince him to let go. Start a new life. As long as he kept away from Dean, nothing would happen. There was just enough left of Dean to prevent him attacking his brother without reason.

Sam stayed at the bunker, rebuilding the Men of Letters, and soon there was a constant coming and going of young and old hunters, even friendly monsters and witches.

Cas came and went a lot too. He came when Sam called, when he needed his help with a spell, research, or when it was one of the bad days when he remembered Dean sitting next to him, eating or laughing or complaining about the reading he had to do.

Cas always drove.

He still reserved flying for Dean.

He had to search for him now. Before, he would have prayed, or Cas would have felt longing. Longing. How well he remembered the pull, the pleasure at the realization that his friend wanted to see him.

There was no longing. Never again. Dean, who had walked away, Dean, who had threatened to kill him, Dean, who would have done better for him if he had used the angel blade, didn’t long for his presence. Cas didn’t know if he even remembered, or if the years of blood and anger had swept away him, Sam, the Impala.

He stayed young. Just like Cas, Dean had become immortal. He didn’t know when; maybe when he had taken the Mark, maybe when he had turned into a demon; but Dean always looked the same, like he had when the blade was raised above Cas’ heart.

Dean never knew he was there. If he had, he wouldn’t have hesitated. He wouldn’t have missed.

But Cas didn’t reveal himself to him. He watched, like he had promised he would.

Not always. Even when he had nothing better to do, there were moments during which he couldn’t bear to be in the same place as the once righteous man.

A young boy cuffed to a table, Dean taking his time separating his skin from his bones.

Cas didn’t know what the family had done to deserve this fate. They had likely not done anything.

Dean was simply doing what he was supposed to. What the Mark told him to. What he needed to feel good, to feel in control.

The Dean he had known would have been terrified.

But that Dean was almost gone.

Well, that Dean was always kind of a dick.

The words came back to haunt him. He hadn’t been “a dick”. Or had he? Years of close friendship with humans had taught him many things, but the subtleties of their language had always been a mystery to him. Sam had often called Dean a dick. But usually there had been a fond look on his face when he had done so. It was all rather confusing.

He wished he could be as confused as to his feelings, like he had been when he had first met Dean Winchester. Feelings had been new then, doubt just beginning to gnaw at the beliefs he had held for millennia, and it had taken him long, too long, to realize that he loved the Winchester brothers, but not in the same way; and that the love he held for Dean was one that angels were not supposed to experience, was human and terrifying.

After he had realized, after he had looked at the hunter and known, he had never revealed it. Dean wouldn’t have accepted it, and he didn’t want him to lose a friend because of his feelings. Dean needed him as a best friend, an angel, a warrior. He didn’t need, nor would he ever want him, as a lover.

Hadn’t wanted him. Hadn’t needed him. All that was long gone. Dean was long gone.

But Cas had stayed, spending eternity watching Dean destroy the world they had saved.

He was there when Sam died. Although he had never left the bunker or got married, Cas, remembering the last thirty years, assumed that he had been happy. The Men of Letters had grown in numbers, hunters everywhere on the planet were asking for the help, and there were many visitors for Sam Winchester on his death bed.

Cas was the last one, and the one Sam asked to stay.

He had lived a long life, even by non-hunter standards. He had spent more years without his brother than with him.

And yet Cas still saw the same loneliness in him that he had first seen on the day Dean left the bunker for the last time.

All those years Sam had been running the Men of Letters and hunting, but since Cas had told him, looking him in the eyes, finally getting through to him, that there was nothing they could do, that Dean was working towards the end of the world, his name had not fallen between them.

“Dean…” Sam began, his breathing laboured, and Cas thought that if it should be his last word on earth, it would be fitting.

He reached out and squeezed Sam’s hand.

The last friend he had in this world.

He wished he could say he would be fine, lie as he had during the Apocalypse.

“He won’t be alone” he vowed instead, and Sam feebly squeezed his hand back.

His last word wasn’t Dean. His last words were Cas – thank you.

Sam went to Heaven.

Cas knew what he had seen there a long time ago.

He had no doubt that now, it would be full of memories of Dean.

After Sam had died, watching Dean was all he did. He had sworn that he wouldn’t be alone. And he never would be again.

Dean was not a demon, but he wasn’t human anymore either. He barely ate. He barely slept. When he needed to move, he stole a car, and Cas sat next to him, invisible in the passenger seat, and in the silence he remembered loud rock music and the smell of take out.

Time had lost all meaning that day in the bunker. Now it gained some back.

Time was anther scream ripped from a throat, then smothered in blood.

Time was bones breaking, a mother pleading to spare her child, that child torn apart in front of her.

Time was Death appearing to claim another victim, his eyes boring into Cas’, both visible only to the two of them, two spectators as humanity was eradicated by the greatest hero it had ever had and never known.

Time was the failure of technology, of politics, of economy, earth turning into a waste land, Dean Winchester still wandering, an animal, a predator.

There were only a handful of humans left. The changed climate had made life for them almost impossible, and Dean had done what he could to destroy the rest.

And yet Cas stayed to see the end.

The last man on earth didn’t put up a fight. He knew what was coming for him, knew that a monster was lurking in the shadows.

Long after the Winchester Gospels had fallen to dust, another legend about Dean Winchester had been born in pain and hatred, and it had accompanied humanity in its last centuries.

The man didn’t scream as Dean killed him. Mankind ended with a whimper.

His watching days were over.

Cas became visible.

And looked into Dean Winchester’s eyes for the first time since that day in the bunker, long ago vanished.

The green eyes that he still loved as fervently as he had when he had looked upon them, blazing with life and happiness, sitting with Dean on the hood of the Impala.

He had never asked what became of the car after Sam’s death.

It didn’t matter.

What mattered was to see Dean one last time.

He recognized him.

“Cas”.

His voice was flat. He didn’t ask why he was here, where he had been. He didn’t care.

Cas stood still as he approached him and drew an angel blade out of his jacket.

He expected to die.

He didn’t expect a kiss, painful, painful and real, pressed roughly against his lips, Dean’s hand, dirty with the blood of millions, clawing into his trench coat.

He didn’t know if it was another torture. If Dean knew, had always known, and was using that knowledge to taint his last moment on an earth he had watched being created and bear the most beautiful soul in all of creation only to have it be destroyed and take everything with it.

He didn’t care if it was torture. All that he cared about was that Dean’s lips were still moving against his as the blade was plunged into his chest.

Dean had given him this.

And he loved him for it as he died in a waste land, kissing what had once been his righteous man.

Destiny

Note: I couldn’t get the theory that Dean becomes Death out of my head.

He could remember when he used to pay attention to time, when he had not yet become the last, the unavoidable truth of what was to come, when a few words, a touch had meant more to him than the great nothing of space, of stardust glittering in the distance, of peace amongst the remains of what had been.

There was nothing left but him and two others, two others vast, immortal beings, and only to him had they ever been equally important.

No one else would ever have thought so much of the Angel, the last of his kind, the last of any kind.

It was his destiny that had allowed him to live on until everything he had protected and stood for, everything he had served had crumbled to dust. And he was pleased. What the Angel had once been to him he was no longer; but what remained was strong enough to make him content that he had stayed until the end.

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Omfg yes girl I love this!!!!

Once Too Many

Dean was always alone during one of those nights. Ever since he had returned from Hell, it had happened again and again; the need to drown everything out simply too strong to fight the allure of the remedy his father had used so liberally; and he would wake up the next morning with a headache, but at least he’d made it to sunrise.

Dean & Mary relationship, implied destiel

Read it on AO3

Dean was always alone during one of those nights. Ever since he had returned from Hell, it had happened again and again; the need to drown everything out simply too strong to fight the allure of the remedy his father had used so liberally; and he would wake up the next morning with a headache, but at least he’d made it to sunrise.

He knew it wasn’t healthy, but really, what was he supposed to do? Take time off the job and heal? As if that was possible. It would never stop.

He always woke up alone somewhere, hung over and shivering.

Sam was well aware that he didn’t want anyone, least of all his little brother, to see him like this; and Cas… well, he made sure he wasn’t in his bedroom when he did this, where the angel now and then appeared.

Currently he was drinking Vodka in a corner of the library; it was where he, as always, would wake up tomorrow morning, not remembering falling asleep, shivering, the bottle empty, broken, in his hands.

This time, however, he was wrong.

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Light Reading

Warning: This is not John Winchester friendly. 

Based on “John Winchester’s Journal” from Alex Irvine. 

She’d still been keeping a journal when she met John. She wondered what had happened to it, cringing as she remembered first her complaints, then her gushing about the handsome ex-marine she’d met.

It was probably a good thing that it had disappeared.

John had never known about it, she was sure of that.

But this wasn’t that kind of journal. No, this was the kind of journal she’d grown up with and despised, because it told her everything about the life she’d wanted to escape.

This was a hunter’s journal.

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The Ten Types of Fans on Tumblr, as told by Supernatural Characters:

1.  The Becky

Generic unhinged fangirl.  Has zero concept of socially acceptable behavior, is probably a multi-shipper, and is okay with the concept of sibling incest.  Posts nothing but surprisingly well-written erotic fanfiction, and might legitimately have a member of the cast tied up in their basement. 

2.  The Gabriel 

Posts nothing but memes and crack edits.  Will find a way to make even the most heartbreaking scene seem comical and ridiculous, and you will love/hate them for it. 

3.  The Castiel

This person is an innocent in a world of shell-shocked Tumblr veterans. Is generally well-mannered and respectful, despite having to put up with a lot of bullshit from everyone else.  Doesn’t get sexual innuendos, and thinks shipping has something to do with boats. 

4.  The Ambriel 

Appears cute and innocent, but is also sort of ignorant and occasionally says something super offensive without even realizing it.  Is probably fourteen or younger.  Will not last long on this site.

5.  The Sam

Will honest-to-God post a ten chapter essay on why his OTP should be canon. Comes up with the bizarrely good headcanons, edits, and theories.  Ships Destiel like crazy.  Is obviously smart, and probably went to an ivy league college.  You will wonder why they’re not doing something more productive with their life. 

6.  The Crowley

Not to be mistaken with the Sam, this person is at least ten times smarter than everyone else, but more of a jerk about it.  They will complain about everything, from poor writing, to continuity errors, to drama within the fandom.  

They also probably post a lot of porn.

7.  The Charlie 

Posts the most adorable fanart, reblogs all your stuff, and sends you a *hugs!* in response to sad posts.  Generally someone you just really want to hang out with, and probably has the best multi-fandom blog you’ve ever seen.

8.  The Metatron

Is generally the worst in every regard.  Obnoxious, disrespectful, doesn’t tag spoilers, and will try to convince you that your favorite characters are straight.

9.  The Bobby

Legit oldest and most experienced person in the fandom.  Has lived through all the drama, and has probably met the entire cast on multiple occasions.  Should be treated with the utmost respect and reverence at all times. 

10.  The Dean 

Is just completely obsessed with Destiel.  Does things on Tumblr that they would never admit to in real life.  Posts nothing but erotic Castiel fanart, fanfiction (both fluff and smut), and bisexual pride posters.

I’m a mix between Charlie sam and castiel

This is amazing!

I like to think I am Gabriel 😜

@tinkdw is Sam

“You will wonder why they’re not doing something more productive with their life.”

This hits too close to home my friend ;)

But yes I’m totally Sam…is that a good thing? I’m taking that as a good thing, Sam’s awesome :p

how have I never seen this post before, this is too accurate

@procasdeanating asked for: 41.“Show me your scars.” “But… why?” “I want to see how many times you needed me and I wasn’t there.” There you go, hope you like it <3

It’s only been a few weeks since their relationship exceeded the friendly pat on the shoulder stage and went full on below-the-belt. Their escapades inside the bedrooms so far only involved frantic groping with their clothes still on which made Dean feel like a goddamn teenager.

So it’s a little bit of a shock when one day Cas says, out of the blue, “Show me your scars.”

And it’s not like Dean’s ashamed of his body or anything. He might have grown a bit of a beer belly but that doesn’t bother him enough to get rid of it.

But Cas is…. Cas. He’s probably the closest thing to perfect there is, the closest thing to perfect Dean’s ever had the honour to witness, and Dean is no contest. So instead of instantly complying, like his nether regions beg him to whenever Cas’ voice commands him, he decides to be difficult. “My scars,” he asks. “But… why?” Cas responds by laying a hand atop Dean’s chest, right where his heart resides. He pushes, and Dean goes where he wants him, leaning back onto the bed. There’s a shimmer in Cas’ eyes that Dean can’t quite decipher. It’s curious and adoring and… sad, almost. “I want to see how many times you needed me and I wasn’t there.”

It’s hushed, barely audible. Like it’s Cas who should be ashamed.

“It’s not-” Dean starts, shaking his head. He covers Cas’ hand with his own. “Those aren’t your fault, you know.”

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Dean: If I died, how much would you miss me?

Castiel: It’s cute that you think dying will get you out of this relationship.

Not a sastiel fan but this line just made me laugh too hard 😂😂😂

{Source}

x

Season 1: noooo, we can’t break the laaaaaw

Season 14: what are laws?

Lol so true though

Destiel

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel Summary:

Purged of all his souls, Castiel is a changed being, stronger than an angel and too powerful for Jimmy’s body to contain. Happily, there’s an archangel’s vessel on hand, and he could use fixing, too. Dean isn’t too happy about the idea of his brother acting as a vessel for Castiel, and Sam can guess why, but it isn’t until Castiel gets inside his head and they learn to share the vessel – and their thoughts – that Sam realises Cas is as in love with Dean as Dean is with him. It’s unfortunate that there’s nothing much to be done about it now, but Castiel will get another vessel soon. The Winchesters will make damn sure of that. In the meantime, it’s up to the three of them to establish their own strange accord, and Dean realises more fully than ever that it’s Castiel, and not his vessel, that he loves.