It's ANGST, Beans.

Just look how horrified Sammeh looks, up there. BEWARE, all ye who enter! For this is a compilation of the absolutely devastating ANGSTY-ANGSTWEEK pieces! MWUAHAHAHA

[writingtheocean]

Memory

The half emptied bottle of beer stood in the table in front of the oldest Winchester. He found the beer tantalizing, it would just be so easy to reach it out and finish the beverage in one long but quick sip. However, if he did so, it would be the end. Dean knew he was being stupid, finishing the rest of the drink wouldn’t lead to any vast change. Taking it supposed admitting to himself that everything had already changed, there was no going back. 

A soft guitar note started on the radio and Dean swallowed hard recognizing the song, it took him back to the happy times, when the angel was still oblivious about music culture and he decided to show him some rock music. It reminded him of that drunk night in which he had kissed Castiel for the first time. Dean’s lips curved into a tiny melancholic smile. He started humbling the song.

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[angsty-angstweek]

OhmyGOD. This was so GREAT. The perfect amount of fluff, and ROMANCE combined with just that perfect dash of angst. Oooof.

I love the "...As if it were their last day together, which neither of them knew it actually would be."

Sooo nice.

Loved it so much! Ahhh!!

[plaugh-ain]

I Love You. Wait for Me

OKaayyyyyyyy SO this is my submition for Angsty week. I suddenly have the idea just now. So, i’m soo sorry if it’s terrible and not well thought. I also apologize for any mistakes. 

Thank you @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover for trusting me enough to write something for @angsty-angstweek. I hope this will suffice.

Title: I Love You. Wait for Me. Rating: Teens and Up Audience Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel Word counts: 1,3k Tag: angst

read on AO3

Dean is at the Roadhouse, drinking his ass off. They are having a fight again, Cas and Dean. Over what, Dean has already forgotten. Probably something minor, but they have been in each other throats these past few days. Dean loves Cas. Gosh, does he loves Cas, but sometimes it is just hard for him to keep his temper in check when things get heated. The last thing he remembers is how Cas is complaining that Dean is working late. How he always opting for staying until late hours at work or ‘covering’ someone else’ shifts over spending time with Cas.

“Dean. Please, just stay at home. With me. You don’t have to go to work. You’re the boss.”

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[angsty-angstweek]

Holy fuckorito, that's painful! Ahhh, I understand the troubles of time management and lack of...timetogetherinarelationship is the worst way to lose someone you love - and this was PERFECT. AHHHH. What a treasure.

Jenn, my favorite bits are where Dean comes back to his senses and Cas...isn't in his.

See now, I know that was punny, but I'm still sad. You got to me. It was gorgeous.

[nickelkeep]

Last Goodbye

Pairing: Past Gabriel/Sam Rating: Teen Word Count: 1400 Warnings: Brief Suicidal Thought. This is pure angst. There is no happy ending. Written For: @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover​‘s @angsty-angstweek​ On Ao3

Sam didn’t know that he was being followed. Gabriel made sure of it. Despite Castiel figuring out quickly that he was still alive, Gabriel begged and pleaded with him to not tell Sam. He caused enough issues in Sam’s life, coming back from faked deaths. Gabriel didn’t want to interrupt Sam’s life yet again.

Gabriel figured he could pull enough strings from behind the scenes. He was already under Billie’s command, brought back for the sole purpose of making an army to take down his father. So Gabriel knew there would be no harm in doing a little more and making sure Sam thrived. They were waiting for the opportune time to strike anyway. Billie may have been a little terse with him when he juiced up Eileen. She needed to make contact with Sam faster, as far as Gabriel was concerned. But he honestly did it for Sam, not for Billie’s insane war. Sam needed something - someone - good in his life. Even if it wasn’t him. Not anymore.

The archangel closed his eyes and listened to the world around him. So many people were completely unaware of what was going on. Of the horrors and the monstrosities that surrounded them. They knew nothing of what Heaven and Hell were actually like. They had no idea of what the Empty was like. Gabriel exhaled abruptly through his nose. In reality, the best-case scenario would be him dying in during the battle and going back to the Empty.

The problem was that the Shadow of the Empty wasn’t allowed to touch him. Not yet. Not until Death had done her part and reaped God Himself. Billie laid down the law that anyone released - or who had escaped from - the Empty were to be sent right back to Earth. Despite his father running amok, trying to destroy his own sandbox, Gabriel was almost invulnerable. He could still be stabbed with an Archangel blade, if anyone had one, but that gooey son-of-a-bitch was in direct orders to send him right back.

A flash of light grabbed Gabriel’s attention, and he carefully watched Sam out of the corner of his eye. They were both sitting outside, Sam drinking a coffee while looking over something for a hunt. Gabriel sat in his own seat a few tables away and nursed hot chocolate while attempting to spy and eavesdrop. Sam had pulled out his phone and hesitated before dialing. Once sure that Sam wasn’t in danger or suffering, Gabriel allowed his mind to drift off.

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[angsty-angstweek]

Samdammit. This hurts, but you know what, it hurts good. This is such a wonderful Headcannon, and now I want it to be true so much, but even thinking of Gabriel not being able to talk to Sam cause of the fear of having to leave him again is too much - if we actually got to see it, I'm pretty sure I'd faint. No shit.

An adorable bit is where Gabriel thinks the line about Dean and Cas and Sam's friends and Sam prays about it too. #SOULMATES

And my favorite part is the very end.

You captured my heart, and then crushed it to bits, and you know what, it felt amazing. This was so well-written! You're awesome.

Thank you for participating!

[rauko-creates]

I Always Will

***

For @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover’s Angst Week

This ficlet is actually part of a series that I - hopefully - will be able to start posting soon. Enjoy (or not).

***

Irony. That’s what this was. The universe had a sense of humor, and it’s favorite mark was Castiel.

How long had he loved Dean Winchester? How long had he yearned? How long had his immortal, eternal existence been wrapped around one human…a human that Castiel had finally accepted that he would never have? Since his deal with the Empty, Castiel had even finally accepted that this was for the best.

Irony was, as one hunter might put it, a bitch.

Castiel marched from the bunker, slamming the door behind him. He ran into the forest, faster, faster. He let his true form explode from his vessel. His wings ripped free. He was in the air. He allowed himself to phase through the astral and physical freely, without tying himself to either plane. He wandered the globe, looking for something comforting, something peaceful. He was in Kansas. He was in Quito. He was in the antarctic. He was in the Grand Canyon. He was in Okinawa. He was in the Sahara. 

He found nowhere that held his shattering self together.

So be it. If Castiel’s heart was determined to rend itself it two, then he would let it. He flew upward. Outward? He flew away, away from the hunter, away from Earth. The moon, Mars, Pluto…they all faded into the distance.

Castiel spread his arms, let his head fall back, and screamed into the blackness, his entire being, his very grace exploding from him in pain.

In a year or so, when the light of it would finally reach Earth, astronomers would say that the light was a supernova, the dying breaths of a previously unnoticed star imploding on itself. They weren’t…entirely wrong.

As Castiel floated in the blackness, Dean’s question played through his mind. “Do you love me, Cas?”

Impossible tears ran down Castiel’s incorporeal form. He could see Dean’s face, begging, pleading with him to give Dean the answer that Castiel knew he couldn’t. Castiel whispered into the void.

 “Of course I do. I always will…”

***

Tag lists:

Everything - @aloha-cowgirl @petrichoravellichor @all-or-nothing-baby @verobatto-angelxhunter @godhasabeard19

Spn - @adoptdontshoppets

All writings - @legendary-destiel @i-miss-balthazar

All Destiel - @lykanyouko @mishtho

Destiel writings - @lanaserra @clumsytaurus @thatonecrappyperson

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed/moved to a different list

[angsty-angstweek]

FUCKITY FUCKING FUCK.

This is almost poetic, Rauko, I'm in awe! And this is becoming a series? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP. Gosh, you're great at this, the angst was literally in every inch of this, and it was in the air around me, and now I'm basically shivering.

Absolute favorite line: In a year or so, when the light of it would finally reach Earth, astronomers would say that the light was a supernova, the dying breaths of a previously unnoticed star imploding on itself. They weren’t...entirely wrong. THATS JUST - THAT'S SO GOOD?? S O C L E V E R??????

Just frigging perfect.

(Olso, I'm sorry, it's Angsty-AngstWeek now, since the former's already a thing)

[seagullmichael]

taking part in @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover​‘s #angsty-angstweek, i present to you my contribution [with my first ever banner edit, ahaha… i kinda got carried away with the visuals a lot more than the actual writing part D:]:

title: Someone to Watch Over Me words: 2,604 | rating: T pairings: dean/castiel, john/mary, chuck/becky tags: ANGST, [i mean, this should be a given], established relationship, highschool au, john and mary are good and loving parents, same with chuck and becky, swearing, major character death author notes: please listen to ‘someone to watch over me’ by ella fitzgerald at the end, as the title is based on that song. i hope you all enjoy, and that i managed to make this at least a little bit angsty :’).

***

The sound of a loud crash launched Dean from his desk, leading him to throw open his window and practically heave half of himself outside. The gutter—which was normally hidden below the trim of roofing—was jutting out, groaning and still swaying freely off its hinges, a sign that the culprit was probably close by. As if on cue, a low moan came from below. Dean braced on his arms and leaned over to see Castiel sprawled out next to the trash bin.

“Cas! Are you all right?” he whispered loudly, eyes bulging with concern.

Castiel rolled over and pushed himself to his feet, hunching forward and a hand planted to his lower back. “Y-yeah, just… a little sore.” He whimpered and grimaced as he placed his other hand to the back of his head.

Dean’s concern morphed into a slow smile. “Hey, did I leave my glasses at your place? I’ve been looking everywhere and I can’t find them.”

Castiel huffed a sigh as he straightened up and stretched his neck. “No, I haven’t seen them.”

“Shit! Mom’s gonna kill me if she finds out I lost them again!”

Castiel managed a smile despite the pain. “I’ll keep looking.” He winked.

“Dean?” Dean snapped around at the sound of John’s voice, obviously having been alerted by Castiel’s crash. His footsteps creaked louder as he neared Dean’s bedroom.

“Quick, my dad’s coming!” Dean said, turning back to Castiel. “You gotta go!” He gestured with both hands. “Go! Before he sees what you did here and have your ass, too!”

The last thing he saw that night was Castiel fixing the trash bin then scampering off the lawn to his bike.

***

Castiel was absent from school the next day. Figuring he’d caught the flu that was going around, Dean decided to call him after class.

“Hey, just checking in to see how you’re doing.” Dean got the answering machine, so Castiel was either really sick in bed, had his head in the toilet puking his guts out, or had gone out to grab some medicine. “Not sure if you’ll be feeling any better tonight, but if you want to come by later to hang out, just give me a call so I can unlock my window. Feel better, okay? Bye.”

He didn’t get a call back. And with all the straining he’d put his eyes through without his glasses, he went to bed early.

***

It was the middle of the night when Dean was awakened by a sudden shift on his mattress. He sleepily glanced over his shoulder to see Castiel faced away, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Jesus, Cas,” he mumbled, “what time is it?” He rubbed at his eyes.

“Sorry, Dean, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Castiel said, sincerely. “I know, it’s late.”

“You didn’t call, so I wasn’t expecting you.” Dean rolled over to face him. “I wasn’t going to wait all night for you, you know,” he teased.

“Yeah, I know.” Castiel smiled softly.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Much. Now, go back to sleep.”

Dean blinked languidly and grinned. “You, weirdo. Is that one of your fetishes? Watching me sleep?”

Castiel laughed and shook his head. “Hey, I found your glasses,” he placed them on the nightstand, “they were hanging precariously on the edge of your laundry hamper.”

“Shit, was that where they were? Thanks, Cas,” he said through a yawn.

“You’re welcome, Dean.”

“My dad almost had a heart attack when he saw what you’d done to the gutter this morning,” he drawled with closed eyes. “Blamed it on the neighbour’s cat. Or raccoons.” They shared a laugh. “He went to the hardware store and got a shitload of stuff to reinforce the whole damn thing, too.” Dean yawned again.

For a moment, Castiel said nothing but watched him with a smile. “I need to go now.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips softly to Dean’s in a kiss. “I love you,” he said quietly.

“Love you, too,” Dean mumbled, already turning over to sleep.

***

Dean woke up early and refreshed for once, thinking he’d make it to school with ample time to spare. He headed downstairs to the kitchen to the scene of his mother talking quietly on the phone and his father standing nearby. Sam was already seated at the table with breakfast.

Mary glanced up as Dean opened the fridge and pulled out the orange juice. Just as he was about to drink from the carton, he paused to see everyone watching him.

“Okay, okay,” Dean set the juice down on the counter and reached into the cupboard, “I’ll get a glass.”

“Thank you for letting us know.” Mary hung up the phone and exchanged a wordless conversation with her husband. John ran a palm over his mouth and sighed. “Dean, honey,” she turned to their eldest son, “we need to talk.”

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[angsty-angstweek]

DUDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OhmySamshine.

Wow, this hurts good. Wonderfully written, and dayum, does it hurt! Dean's reactions to the news just completely shook me? POOR DEAN! And, ohgodohfuckohno, he loses his best friend and the love of his life *incoherent screeches* this is stunning and SAD.

I'm not crying, but my heart literally feels heavy. Is that normal, or am I dying? If I'm dying, today's a good day, I'm reading all this angst for the Week and I'm just - so fucking heartbroken, it's lovely.

Love this so much, Peanut!

[alicethrutheburrows]

Not In Kansas Anymore

Waves. Hi guys! This was written for the Angsty-Angst Week challenge and I might have misread the original prompt but here is a dose of bittersweet angst. It’s a rather soft submission I must admit. @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover

Warning: Sad Ending. Rated: G

Read On AO3

Summary: Junction City, Kansas 1999. 

Hays KS 12 miles.

Colorado State Line 172 miles.

“Castiel, we’re getting closer sweetie.” Naomi said, staring at Castiel’s face in the rearview mirror. “Colorado is going to be great. A fresh start! I know moving early in the school year is hard but this time…”

He really wished his mother would save the everything-is-going-be-great moving speech. Having a dad who was a translator for the US Army meant moving from army base to army base every couple years or months sometimes and every time they packed up their station wagon to head to their new home his mother felt the need to give the speech. Staring out at the passing fields of Kansas farmlands, Castiel couldn’t stomach the speech this time. It wasn’t just packing boxes, loading the car, burying his head in a new book and zooming off to his new home this time. No, this time everything was different. This time Castiel had met Dean. Too big leather jacket, co-captain of the cheer team, cool without trying but never cool enough to ignore his kid brother, easy-going perfect smile Dean fucking Winchester.

Always being the new kid was easy, after a dozen or so times bouncing schools Castiel knew the routine like he knew his abc’s. He hardly bothered with afterschool activities or trying to make friends since he never really knew when he might be jumping schools again. Plus, who needed friends when books existed? Junction City High though, with the majority of the students coming from Fort Riley half the student body was considered new kids.

Castiel was able to do his usual nose-always-in-a-book-new-kid, fly-under-everyone’s radar until he was partnered with Dean for the English group project. Dean rummaged Castiel’s bedroom shelves for all its treasures the first time Dean came over to Cas’ house to work on the project. Arguing over who would win in a fight, Batman or Superman, Dean declared “Dude, better call my mom cause I’m so staying the night to marathon John Wayne.” Bonding over their shared love for DC comic heroes and old western movies, the pair were the unlikeliest of friends. Like a light switch, shy and reserved Castiel flipped into a quick-witted, silver-tongue sass master in Dean’s presence while cool, collected and charming Dean turned into comic book lore loving, full-blown 80’s slasher movies fanatic Dean. They were like peanut butter and jelly, good separate but better together.  

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[angsty-angstweek]

Ahhh, that is sad, fren. Bittersweet angst is still angst, and my heart goes for Cas right now, so trust me, this is an entirely valid submission <3

I loved the descriptive way in which you write! It's very engaging, and you take the reader slowly ahead and that makes it easy to follow and imagine it happening, but also makes the heartache worse when you're done?

I wanted Cas to have his happy ending so bad. This was wonderfully written.

Thank you for participating, fren ~

[legendary-destiel]

Shower Secrets [14x03 coda]

This is for my lovely tumblr-sister Drew @peanutbutterandgrapejelly, because she wanted to know so desperately, why this image was taken in the shower, and not anywhere else (like, for example in the kitchen, while cutting carrots or playing bingo). Well, you wanted the background-story, hon, here you go! :D

Notes: This is slightly angsty/explicit. You have been warned.

Words: 1340

AO3

tags: destiel one-shot, post-possession angst, Michaels pervert idea of getting to know each other, deancas talk, short shower conversations, you all know to what they can lead, shower sex, this is not their first time, established relationship, Cas takes care of Dean, finally reunited, very slight descriptions of sexual abuse, but not explicit, the good stuff is a little explicit tho 😁

Well, now let’s jump in the shower with Dean, because we’re dealing with the sequel to the following scene - thanks to my awesome friend @agusvedder we can enjoy this wonderful gif:

***

Hm?

Dean heard a noise coming from the door.

Ah, good. He understood the hint.  

With a silent, unremarkable klonk, the door closed behind Castiel. When Dean looked over his shoulder quickly, he could only see a beige, blurred silhouette, because he was already in the shower, surrounded by the steam of the 45 degree hot water. It ran down his aching back in constant cascades.

His entire body just hurt. After getting rid of Michael’s disgustingly extravagant clothes, all he wanted was to wash away the memories. He couldn’t help but to remember what it felt like… the moment when he completely lost control of his own body and will. He was so powerless, so helpless, that not even his purest, deepest cry of despair came to the surface. He was drowning, slowly ceasing to exist, while falling deep and deeper into this impenetrable darkness. There was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

And then suddenly - it was over. From one second to another, he was himself again. Dean didn’t know why Michael decided to leave, but he fucking did. He couldn’t care less, but now he had to deal with those memories.

“Hey.” Dean said firmly. He didn’t want to appear too weak to Cas.

The angel remained silent, but Dean heard a rustle and knew instinctively that Cas had just taken off his trench coat.

Dean felt some flashbacks from the past few weeks that were gathering in his gut and slowly coming up his throat. He could still feel the archangel’s anger and how determinedly he was pursuing his plans. He was cruel and calculating, and he owned him.

The memory of all the blood Michael shed, while he had his fucking hands on the steering wheel of Dean’s body, drove him just crazy. This was blood that was on his hands now. Well, not really, but… anyway. He was the one who let Michael in. He had violated all of their rules and principles and initiated this worst-case scenario. And he didn’t listen to Cas.

“Dean…” the angel began. He was still not quite sure what Dean expected of him. Then he added, “How are you feeling?“, but didn’t come any closer.

Dean knew, Cas would definitely be able to sense if Michael was still there, but Dean wanted to assure him with his own words that Michael was gone.

“There is no more archangel… Of that I’m sure. But I’m… I’m…” The hunter swallowed, because he didn’t really know how to explain. To distract himself from his trembling hands, he squeezed some two-in-one shower gel onto his palm and began washing his hair for the third time.

“I’m still feeling so… unclean. Somehow I can still feel him, Cas.” Dean shook his head in disgust. “Huh. Probably some perverse reverberation of the possession. Does that sound awkward? It’s like there is blood on my hands… Damn, Michael killed so many innocent people… even if they were monsters, they didn’t deserve to die this way - ”

“Dean, it is horrible what happened to those people, but that is not on you. Michael turned out to be a monster himself, with unpredictable plans. You cannot impose this burden on yourself.”

Dean didn’t say a word, so Cas repeated it, louder, in his rough voice: “It’s not your fault, Dean.”

No, it was not.

Dealing with the killing and torturing was tough, but… this wasn’t everything…

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[angsty-angstweek]

That was beautiful. The art was always gorgeous, but the story makes it simply perfect. I could see it happening, Jules, you're just that good! The angst stung, and I do hate Michael with renewed frigging hatred, but oof, this piece was stunning. I love this so much.

[cloverhighfivewritestoo]

Dean’s Best Friend

👉 Read it on Ao3

1k - Destiel - Dean falls in friendship so fast he rolls with it until it’s too late. Warnings - AU in the sense Dean and Cas are just normal dudes/ major character death/ friendship fluff but angst without comfort

Dean had been friends with Castiel since they’d met. They hit it off as buddies so fast it had taken Dean by surprise. But he loved it. He loved how easy it was to call Castiel to go have a beer or texting him to come and hang out. He was so comfortable in this friendship he sometimes just showed up at Castiel’s place with a pizza. Castiel would welcome him in with a big smile, and fetch paper plates – no dishes tonight! – while Dean found a movie on Netflix.

If they’d gone out and drank too much, they’d end up at either Dean’s or Castiel’s to sleep it off – whichever was closer. If they’d drank way too much and woke up all foggy and hungover the following morning, they’d go out for brunch cause who wants to cook when they’re groggy? One time, they were so drunk neither Castiel nor Dean had it in them to fetch some sheets for Dean to sleep on the couch. They just flopped fully dressed on top of the covers on the bed and had woken up weirdly tangled in the duvet, Castiel’s hand on Dean’s face, Dean snoring. They’d found it funny. After that, they never bothered having the other sleep on the couch. The bed was easier.

At Thanksgiving, Dean brought Castiel to his family’s dinner, because “Cas doesn’t really have family. Didn’t want to leave my best bro behind, ya know.” Sam had smiled and welcomed his brother’s friend warmly. Dean brought Castiel again at Christmas. For New Year’s, Castiel had suggested they stay in, play board games and drink. Come midnight, Dean hugged Castiel tight, wished him a very happy new year, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Cause bros can do that. No toxic masculinity in this house. Castiel smiled and kissed Dean back on the cheek. They’d laughed. Then, Dean had gotten a fresh batch of pigs in a blanket from the oven while Castiel refilled their champagne flutes. They’d started a new game of Monopoly.

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[angsty-angstweek]

Hey, I just wanted to say, what the fuck, fren, why would you do that to us - when I remembered this is basically for Angsty-AngstWeek, hence you HAD to ruin the adorable setup you had going before about the two bros who were only bros™.

This was awesomely written, and made for a heartshattering read. I was involved from first moment to last. You're wonderful! Thank you for participating, I guess I didn't need my heart anyways

[all-or-nothing-baby]

Behind Blue Eyes

_____________________________

FANDOM: Supernatural

PAIRING: Castiel/Dean Winchester

WORD COUNT: 1135

TAGS: Castiel POV, s15e06 "Golden Time" Coda, Angst, Castiel Angst, Song Inspiration

_____________________________

tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock

Castiel sits staring at and slowly turning his cold, quarter-cup of quite terrible black coffee.

A quarter to the right; three quarters left; back to centre; repeat.

According to the nineteen-seventies-made Abelo clock on the wall, he has now been ensconced in this squeaky vinyl booth aside the large and grubby window for precisely one hour, eleven minutes and forty-three seconds.

Forty-four; forty-five; forty-six; forty-seven...

The dismal truck-stop diner, Susie’s, just outside of Soda Springs, Wyoming, is seemingly not a popular spot. The server—Susie? Castiel didn't look at her name badge—has refilled Castiel's cup twice by this point, but has left him to stare blankly out into the gloaming and juxtaposing amber glow of the newly blinking street lamps for a while now.

tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock

Castiel has counted sixty-one vehicles drive past in the time he's spent in this dreary place.

Sixty-two. This one is a motorcycle.

What now?

He pointedly ignores the question.

Yet again.

Having no answer to it is beginning to irritate Castiel.

tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock

Sixty-three. This latest car is a vintage model. It's big and black and not unlike—

Castiel clears his throat, peering down at the coffee. He now knocks it back, pouring the stale bitterness down in one gulp, wincing slightly before placing the cup back onto the Formica table-top.

tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock

A quarter to the right; three quarters left; back to centre; repeat.

Whilst aware and fully able to hear all that's occurring both inside and outside of the establishment he is currently wasting his time in, Castiel hasn't really listened to anything particular in a while, instead letting the sound waves or "ambiance" simply wash over him like a stream's current. Zoning out was the term that Dean—

Castiel shifts in his seat, lips pressed together into a neat line. He's just... he needs to be occupied, is all. He tries filling his head with only thoughts of the the nearby case he'll begin work on tomorrow morning.

tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock

Then at eight twenty seven, twelve seconds post meridiem and counting, a new sound slices through the monotony. A vaguely familiar sound.

Castiel is now very much listening.

"no one knows what it's like

to be the bad man

to be the sad man

behind blue eyes"

At once sardonically amused, Castiel almost laughs aloud at the uncanny parallelism to his circumstance which he hears in the lyrics of the song being played through Susie’s speakers.

This one could have been written for him, as Dea—he would've said.

However, the sharp blade of such cosmic mockery then cuts painfully deeper with the cruel words that follow:

"no one knows what it's like

to be hated

to be fated

to telling only lies"

Filtered into quiet, tinny musings via the diner's kitchen radio, all amusement previously attached to the song lyrics becomes at once sickly and beguiling to Castiel.

tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock

Billions of humans know what it is to be hated. The species hate on a level that can rival even Lucifer's hatred of his—and Castiel's—Father. The atrocities people will commit in the name of hatred is unparalleled. But for Castiel to be hated by him...

The only one who matters

tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock

Sixty-four. A Winnebago.

Castiel thinks about not taking his phone out from his coat. Ruminates over checking or not checking.

He turns his empty cup again.

A quarter to the right

Sixty-five. A modern, silver two-seater. He doesn't know the model.

Ignoring a glare from the previously friendly server—who has no doubt now become disgruntled at Castiel's lack of a food order—he slips a hand slowly into the pocket of his trenchcoat like he's performing some unsavory act. Runs an unsure fingertip over the slim edge of his cell.

tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock

Three quarters left

Castiel's hand grips the casing. It's cool to the touch.

I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition

tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock

Flips it over in his palm.

Sixty-six. A truck pulling in.

Back to centre

tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock

Castiel closes his eyes and he can hear it again, like Chopin's Sonata No.2…

"The plan changed, Dean. Something went wrong. You know this. Something always goes wrong."

"Yeah, and why does that something always seem to be you?”

tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock

Repeat

His phone is half-way out of his pocket…

"but my dreams they aren't as empty

as my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely

my love is vengeance

that's never free"

Castiel was wrong. The song isn't only about him. It is not only he who has done wrong. Just like it's not only up to Castiel to fix what's broken. It wasn't him who broke it, not this time.

"no one knows what it's like

to feel these feelings

like I do

and I blame you"

This part of the song is all Dean's.

tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock

Sixty… how many?

tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock

Quarter to the right? Or is it—

Castiel loses his grip on the cup and it slides along the Formica, careering from the table and falling to the floor, the ceramic handle breaking as it lands just off to the right of his feet.

"no one bites back as hard

on their anger

none of my pain and woe

can show through"

And, just like that, the song is Castiel's again.

He allows the phone to slide back into his pocket and now filters out all noise, not wanting to hear the rest of the words. Instead, he tunes into the white-noise of angel radio, fully aware he won't hear anything from his own near-extinct kind. There are too few left of those he had once thought of as his brothers and sisters. Heaven is fading by the day.

In all of creation, Castiel has never felt so alone.

After retrieving the cup and its handle and placing them down gently on the table-top, Susie or Not Susie glares at him once more. This time, Castiel glares back.

The server doesn't look in his direction again.

Forcing himself to tune back into the diner—back into the world—Castiel heaves a breath he doesn't have to take but has never needed quite so much.

He leaves enough bills on the table for both the coffee and the broken cup, also leaving his last dregs of hope behind for what once was.

Move on, Castiel

He steps out into the evening and as the diner door is closing, he just catches the last verse of The Who song, the very same one that an old friend—the man Castiel had believed loved him—had once played to him through shared earplugs.

"no one knows what it's like

to be the bad man

to be the sad man

behind blue eyes"

_____________________________

written for @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover's @angsty-angstweek and

inspired by the who's "behind blue eyes".

p.s. chopin's sonata no.2 is more commonly known as "the death march" and was tradtionally played at funerals.

[angsty-angstweek]

Oh, oh, oh, Lucy! This is terribly heartbreaking, I cannot imagine how Cas must feel, but I also can, because you showed us SO WELL?

Luce, the bits about the cars on the road and the clockhands - serious chills. You're such a splendid writer, it's literally a wonderful feeling to be sad when something this beautiful causes it.

Lines which absolutely took my breath away:

Castiel heaves a breath he doesn't have to take but has never needed quite so much.

And:

And, just like that, the song is Castiel's again.

Chills, croutonsupreme, CHILLS.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Open When You Need Me

NOTES: 5.8k words. Not a happy ending. This is for ANGSTY-ANGSTWEEK. So, proceed only if you’re prepared. Warnings:  Major Character Death, Suicidal Thoughts, Loss. 

On September 15th, Dean Winchester buys a stack of Open-When cards from Archies.

They’re blank, but lined.

He knows Cas isn’t the biggest fan of his birthday, because it brings back sullen memories of a past he’s left behind - but he can’t just do nothing for his best friend’s birthday.

Ergo, he’ll just gift Cas those letters, and keep it mellow.

*

Come September 18, Cas wakes up to Dean holding a cake in his hands, giant grin lighting up his face.

Before Cas can even put on a shirt, Dean’s fixed a wobbly conical birthday hat on his head, struggling with the string until he just gives up and perches the hat indignantly on Cas’s unruly bedhair, and it stays.

“Happy birthday!” He beams, handing him the gift.

Cas smiles, not wholly because he feels the need to match Dean’s enthusiasm, but also a little bit for he can’t help it - as Dean waits expectantly for him to unwrap the now-thoughtfully-filled-in Open When cards.

“Oh!” Cas exclaims, when he understands what it is. “Thank you.” He adds, distractedly, starting to look through, without reading the contents.

There are three categories, and each has five cards. On top of the first, the ‘Open When You’re Sad’ bunch, is a handwritten birthday wish in pink. Cas flips to the second without opening the cards in the first, carefully, and that’s ‘Open When You’re Tired’. The last one says, ‘Open When You’re Lonely’. And there’s a red heart in the corner, which Cas stares at, with his cheeks warm, as Dean starts to speak.

“Y’know,” He mumbles, insecure. “I wanted to get you a gift which you don’t crumble in pressure, opening. No scope for awful, old memories with this one.”

Cas purses his lips.

Dean goes on. “So, there. You don’t even have to open these right now.”

“Thank you.” Cas repeats, feeling an overpowering rush of happy settle heavy in his chest. His eyes fall on the title, once again. “I really don’t.”

And then he scoots over on the bed so that Dean can sit down, and the first thing Dean does once they’re back in a huggable height range, is slide his arm around Cas, and squeeze.

“Of course you don’t. Happy birthday.” He repeats, as well.

They do eventually get on to cutting the cake, and later, while Cas tries to paint Dean with the blue icing, the latter briefs Cas about their minimalistic, yet also everything-Cas-like itinerary.

It’s a good day.

*

On November 6th, a truckdriver drives through the outskirts of Lawrence, Kansas. As his shabby radio plays Green Day, hooked to the local station, he curses at himself for spending all of the previous night in a bar. He knows he can’t afford to take a break either; delivery is due on the 8th.

When he hits the black Chevrolet Impala, emerging from an intersecting road into his lane, sidelights blaring exactly as they ought to - he swears out loud and immediately slams his foot on the brakes.

But it’s too late.

Within the very second of contact, the smaller vehicle had suffered damage beyond repair. Stuck in that moment of dread, it takes him a second to realize what just happened. 

For a moment, he considers getting down to examine the wreck. Maybe someone was still -

No, that was ridiculous. The car was completely battered. If the crash had smashed the sturdy metal skeleton of the Chevy so horrifyingly, the driver must be in Heaven already.

He puts his head on the wheel. Muttering a prayer under his breath, he silently decides to keep driving.

After all, it’s an adequately busy road. Someone would get to the site sooner or later. There was no need for immediately medical services, either - or he tells himself, that he would’ve made an anonymous call. He has a family. He can’t risk the chance of being put away for this. And court always costs too much, as it is. 

He drives on.

*

On November 6th, a few hours later, Cas receives a call from the General Hospital of Lawrence. 

A serious voice informs him, punctuated by formal apologies and grave pauses, that Dean Winchester had been killed in an accident.

And in the next breath, he’s asked to confirm if he knew the man, since Castiel Novak’s listed as one of his emergency contacts, and the other, a Sam Winchester, is only in highschool, and cannot possibly be summoned for the purpose of identifying the body.

Cas cannot utter a sound for a few beats, but when his voice returns, it does so all at once; all that comes out is a strangled sob, which is supposed to be, “No!”

Keep reading

[angsty-angstweek]

Long and painful. I wish you luck.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Apparently it doesn’t matter that Sam Winchester grew up following his brother. That he’s looked up to Dean, his entire life. That he dresses like Dean, even when it’s not hand-me-downs, and they speak similar, and drive similar. Hell, they mostly even fight similar. 

Sam’s always known that they’re different. 

This isn’t bacon versus salad shake. It isn’t about Sam getting up for sunrises, and Dean going out for the sunsets. It isn’t orange or red plaid, or a beard versus none.

Point is, they’re fundamentally different.

(Even John knew it. After all, he never treated his boys the same.)

Dean and he have always dealt with loss differently. 

When Sam dies, Dean sells his soul, and would do it again. But when he loses Sam, he hangs up the gloves and goes back to Lisa.

When Dean dies, Sam runs away to Ruby, Amelia, anyone. But when he loses Dean, he changes into every monster’s worst nightmare. Becomes the dread of a demon’s dreams.

Sam and Dean could not be more different, when it comes to losing the people they love. 

When Cas dies, Dean gives up. 

When Jess died, Sam started hunting again.

Two brothers, who keep choosing each other over the world - does that mean they’re the same? It’s never meant that.

Then how does Dean assume they want the same things, now? 

How can he decide that they’re done - and think Sam should feel the same way? When they’ve never felt the same way about these things.

When Cas is gone again, Dean wants to quit. He wants to stay with Cas’s coffin, the Mal’ak box - and with Cas’s voice within, until either withers away or dies. He can’t let Cas be alone. Dean promised him he wouldn’t.

But when Eileen is gone, Sam wants to fight. He wants to chase the monsters, and go after the worst of the world. He doesn’t want to stop.

He wants to make it right.

And he’ll keep going, whether or not Dean comes with him. 

When Dean says stop, he means peace.

When his world falls apart, Sam doesn’t even know what that is, anymore. He only knows anger, and he only knows pain. He only knows might. 

Crash and burn, Sammy.

And, so he does.

[angsty-angstweek]

I like the ending!

[petrichoravellichor]

Dean thinks about her sometimes, about Emma. 

“Please—”

How she…

“Please don’t—”

How she was…

“Please don’t—”

How she was his. Dean thinks about her sometimes.

“Please don’t let him hurt me…”

And it hurts in a way he can’t explain.

[angsty-angstweek]

Oh my WHOA. That's something else! It DOES hurt in a way I can't explain either. Poor, poor Dean. But wonderful piece <3

[maggiemaybe160]

Broken

Thank you for always being my there to cheerlead and beta for me @nickelkeep

Also on Ao3 GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH WARNING

“I can fix this!” Dean yells. “It’s not broken!” Cas pleads. He’s on his knees in an angel trap. “I’m not broken!” Holy oil spills over his face, slipping between his lips as he begs. He tries to wipe it away, terrified. He looks up at Dean and opens his mouth to try again, but Dean just pours more oil over his face. It forces its way into his mouth and down his throat. He sputters and chokes. His nose feels funny and he can feel the oil in his lungs. His hair is plastered to his face, and still, he tries. “Dean!” 

“I can fix this!” Dean promises, flicking open the silver lighter. It was never meant for Cas. It was never meant for him. The lighter drops and Cas screams. 

Dean staggers backward, holding his head as he groans. Pain rips through him as he doubles over. He squeezes his eyes shut and blinks through the pain before he looks up and feels his heart stop in his chest. 

“Cas!” He rips off his jacket and throws it over Cas, trying to suffocate the flames. “No. No, no, no, no, no. Cas. No!” 

The flames lick at Dean’s palms but he can’t feel them. He doesn’t care. He pulls Cas’ body out of the angel trap and pats out the flames as he tries to breathe. He can’t feel his heart. He can’t feel. He sees his burned hands shaking. He hears an anguished howl and wonders if it’s from him. 

“Good job,” a voice says. “It was hard work, but we knew you could do it. I knew you could do it. Just took some persuasion.” Zachariah. “What’s wrong, Dean?”

“Bring him back, you son of a bitch. I don’t know what you did, but you will bring him back.” Dean feels the stinging in his nose as tears blur his vision. He refuses to let them fall as he cradles Cas against him. 

“What I did? Oh, no. What you did. This was all you, Dean,” he says with that smile that turns Dean’s stomach. 

It hits him with a wave of nausea. He remembers Cas begging only moments ago. He remembers Cas’ screams. He remembers pouring holy oil over his perfect face and wetting his parted lips. His eyes flicker to his lighter on the floor by the burning angel trap. 

“I know, I know,” Zachariah sighs. “You loved him. You’ll never be the same without him by your side. Blah blah blah. This is good, Dean. We got two birds with one stone! You’re controllable and Castiel? Our broken angel who fell in love with a human? He’s out of the picture. He can’t stand in the way anymore.”

“Fell in love?” Dean breathes harshly, his eyes raking over Cas’ scarred face. His mind is reeling, but he manages to snarl, “I told you once and I will tell you again. I’m not a pawn in your game. I will never say yes.” 

“Come now, Dean. You already killed the only being who will ever love you. What left is there?” 

Dean can’t look away from Cas’ face. He had done this to him. He had killed the love of his life. He wasn’t even in charge of his own body, but he feels the guilt tearing into him like a knife. 

“You will say yes. Now, or when we decide to take control again. You killed your poor, dear Castiel. You’ll kill your brother too.” Zachariah takes a step toward him. “It’s only a matter of time, Dean.”

“Take another step and I’ll kill you and then me,” Dean says without moving. Zachariah stops and Dean runs his hand over the burned cheek of his angel. He never got to tell him that he loved him. His final moments were spend in fear and desperation. 

“You don’t have any weapons. You aren’t going to kill anyone,” Zachariah says. “Anyone else,” he corrects himself with a chuckle. 

Dean grabs Cas’ angel blade from his sleeve and plunges it into his heart. He gasps and watches two tears finally fall onto Cas’ face. 

“I’m not broken!” Cas had yelled in his final moments. 

“But I am,” Dean answers silently as he chokes on his own blood and watches the world tilt and darken. 

Keep reading

[angsty-angstweek]

Ahhh! This hurts so bad, Maggie, but THATS THE POINT. You crushed it, as always. My favorite part is the reference to the 'fixing it' and the 'nothing's broken'. Oof. What a splendid use of that! Absolutely stunning piece.

[bedpissercastiel]

It’s Not Too Late

654 words

ao3 masterlist

It’s not too late.

“Make my hand three inches,” Malcolm mumbles, looking around for the solution.

It’s not too late.

Images of Ainsley’s body, butchered fill his head.

It’s not too late.

Keep reading

[angsty-angstweek]

Ah! Thank you for participating, fren. This is very well-written ~ you're lovely!

[larandomfangirl]

This is the Way

Here’s my submission for @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover‘s angst week. Hope you enjoy, and make sure to check out @angsty-angstweek if you want more angst!

Plot: Sam and Dean have stopped God with the help of Cas taking on the Mark of Cain. But for the WInchesters, happy endings can’t last long. The Mark is starting to corrupt Cas. The brothers know he must be stopped, and that the Ma’lak Box is the only thing strong enough to hold the angel. But can Dean go through losing him again? (Takes place before what is shown of the Butch and Sundance ending in 15x09 The Trap)

Word Count: 1195

Keep reading

[angsty-angstweek]

Oh, the sweet, sweet angst, my friend. Goodness gracious. That hurt me. I wished *so* hard that they'd get him back - but they didn't, and that's fucking angsty-angstweek for you. Thank you for the submission!!

[mumble--bee]

Emmanuel doesn't recognise the man at the foot of the stairs. He says his name is Dean. He says a lot more than that, really, but "Dean" is the part he says out loud.

Emmanuel doesn't recognise the man he lets into his kitchen. The man who calls him Cas. The man who looks like he wants nothing more than to be held by someone who is familiar with the inside of his arms.

Emmanuel doesn't recognise the man sitting in his lounge room. This man is in mourning. This man is grieving for someone still alive. This man says goodbye, says goodbye, says it's better if you don't remember, says it's better if you're happy, says goodbye.

Emmanuel doesn't recognise the man he waves down the one-way street. He is walking a solo funeral procession with no casket at the other end. The man will never return.

Emmanuel doesn't recognise him.

[angsty-angstweek]

Oh, wow. That was heartbreaking. And magnificent! You're absolutely amazing, Bubbles! I'm in awe, those two back-to-back angst ficlets mark the start of this compilation! Such a wonderful beginning ~ Gee!

[mumble--bee]

Sam sleeps, and he burns Dean alive.

Sam sleeps, and Dean stabs him with the first blade.

Sam sleeps, and he kills Dean. Dean kills him. He kills Dean.

This time, this time, next time, another time.

Sam sleeps, and he seeks Dean out. The faster he finds him the faster he can wake.

Sam sleeps, though he tries not to. He knows what's waiting on the other side of consciousness.

Sam sleeps, and he kills Dean in the bunker, the cemetery, the future.

Sam takes pills. As many as he can find.

Sam doesn't sleep.

Sam doesn't sleep.

Sam doesn't sleep.

Sam sleeps.

"Coffee's on," Dean tells him, and Sam points the gun at his face. Dean doesn't look scared. "This a joke?" he asks. He takes another spoonful of cereal.

"I don't want to sleep anymore," Sam says. "Stop haunting me."

Dean sees him. It's too late. "Sam," he says.

Sam doesn't sleep. There's blood in the cereal. There's blood in his hair.

Sam doesn't sleep,

but Dean does.

[angsty-angstweek]

That is splendid. Such glorious angst, Bubbles, *chef's kiss*! I don't have words, my dude. It's wonderful! And the last line? You got me so bad. You got us all so bad. That's breathtaking!