To my favorite thing, our friendly neighborhood cosmic entityyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!
Dean can still breathe, but he knows instinctively that he doesn't actually need to
"Cas," he whispers, helplessly. He thinks it might be the only word left that he knows.
While he sleeps, he dreams of regret, as all things do, here. For Castiel, this means he dreams of Dean. [...] But virtually every regret that Castiel has from the last decade is colored by Dean's presence, on the margins if not in the very center. He dreams of Dean's hours of frantic prayer as Sam struggled in Bobby's panic room, before Castiel finally appeared and coerced him into his oath of allegiance. He dreams of Dean begging him to stop working with Crowley. He dreams of letting go of Dean's hand at the portal out of Purgatory, and of Dean bleeding on his knees as Castiel beat him to a pulp, unable to stop himself until the last possible second
This make me so sad. I'm starting to get more heart-thudding and less verbally reactive when I when these because THE EMPTY!!!! CAS!!!!
Also, this is so beautiful. We as an audience know how guilty Cas feels, but we don't get the wonderful flashbacks to the heat of the moment violence as much as this and it's BOOOOOOTIFUL.
can smell burnt coffee on his breath and the salt of dried sweat on his skin
Oh, these details really make it.
I just came to get you." As if coming to the Empty were as simple as a trip to the grocery store.
Well, the grocery store is VERY essential. A man's gotta eat. :D
Castiel shakes his head. "I can't," he rasps, and he's been asleep for who knows how long, but he suddenly feels as tired as if he hasn't slept in all of his existence. "You should go."
Ahhh, yes. You were right. I like it. This is one of my favorite iterations of the Cas-Empty tangle. That's he'd be RESISTANT to leave, so afraid the things he's sacrificed for would get yanked back, and he'd be alive but alone.
"Lyre?" Castiel asks sharply, looking at Dean. "As in…"
The Empty bares Meg's teeth in a cruel smile. "Oh! You didn't know? Dean-O here decided to play Orpheus for a day. Thought he'd come rescue his little wife with the power of music and love."
I can heart its drippingly oozy Meg-voice. Also, I love the plot with the lyre. It feels so very SPN.
"Don't forget, he can't hear you or feel you. He just has to take it on faith that you're there," it reminds him.
SO much to unpack here with how Cas in real and explicit terms symbolizes Dean's faith, and most importantly, Dean's faith in the future.
It just means he's Dean Winchester, doing what Dean Winchester does. Saving people. Throwing away his own life. The Winchester family business.
SUCH a Cas thought, that.
Chapter 7: VII. Wait For Me (Reprise)
I think you guys have to read this fic for the Sonny's boys' home flashbacks, full stop.
Part of him wishes there was time to find Robin, apologize for not being able to take her to the dance, after all, but he also knows this is easier. If she hates him, she'll be able to move on quicker.
Connor left the tape sitting on the mattress. When Dean finally makes himself leave, he doesn't pick it up, just grabs his bag and heads for the car.
And as I've been hammering, the musicality of this fic is TIGHT. Like TIGHT tight. Wound-up coil that's a rattlesnake owie owie maybe it will kill you kind.
He'd been gambling with their food money in the first place because
Thank you for this bit about the desperation of HOPE re: gambling. And the predation this country runs on to tap into that.
The trouble is, he doesn't actually know if Cas is still behind him.
It's not that he doesn't trust Cas to still be there—except maybe it is, just a little, and could you blame Dean if it were?
LMFAO. It's the VERY thing Dean's sensitive about: Cas leaving. And this whole mess started with Cas begging Dean to leave him behind, so it's like an inflamed, festering wound AGHAKLG:HKALGJK:LAJL:
And yanno, on top of Dean's pre-existing self-worth issues...
He can't stop himself. Isn't sure he even wants to, anymore. He can't breathe, anyway, not knowing for sure. He'll die if he doesn't look.
When Castiel was babysitting Nora's daughter, though, it wasn't the songs Nora played to get them through the end of their shifts that he thought of to get the infant back to sleep. Instead, as soon as he held her in his arms, a very different song came bubbling to the surface, like muscle memory:
Ahhh, the Jimmy Claire connection sealed into the fic at last. Love it.
Dean was—well. Castiel didn't know what to call him, but he knew the way that he missed Sam and the way that he missed Dean felt very different.
I WILL NOT SPOIL THE END BUT YOU GUYS. CHAPTER SEVEN. LUCKY UNLICKY NUMBER SEVEN I AM SCREAMING
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
stormborns
pixelskylines
kaledo-art
vaporwave
areudirty
