#grieving dean

[nezyy78]

Reflections 💙💚

https://archiveofourown.org/works/81397666

Following Dean’s death by a nail instead of finding peace he finds himself lost more than ever.

Castiel is gone and not coming back. Right?

Gabriel and Dean find a way to turn back time with the help of some other grieving Deans to get through to himself before losing his Angel forever.

New fic! Will update tomorrow 🥹

[destielfanficlibrary]

What Used to be Mine by someonetoanyone (48, 082 words) ->

a terrible, evil AU that posits; what if the divorce arc was even worse, what if Dean never apologized in Purgatory, and what if Cas internalized all of that, making his ultimate confession less confident, though no less heartfelt, and he died thinking Dean hated him?

READ -> this one was so angsty but so so good, someonetoanyone is another one of my favourite authors and anything by them is 100% guaranteed to be good

[midnight-sun-madness]

Grieving Dean

Yes I made a whole section for seeing Dean grieve Cas, what's it to you?

The Deeper the Grief, the Deeper the Love by blackimpala (200, 133 words) → https://archiveofourown.org/works/31267670/chapters/77292896 

Summary: A retrospective of how Dean has felt every time he has lost Cas, whether because he died or because he left. It is also a retrospective of how with every passing year Dean falls more in love with Cas and how losing him gets more and more painful.

together in eternity by mangolipgl0ss (11, 954 words) → https://archiveofourown.org/works/33593125 

Summary: Dean goes to bed the day Cas dies and wakes up trapped in a time loop reliving the same day.

The Flood by outdean (24, 655 words) → https://archiveofourown.org/works/46096432 

Summary: The grief overtook Dean again, bowling him over like a wave in the ocean. All of Cas’ things had been in there, what few there were. He should’ve taken something—Cas’ coat or his tie or one of those stupid baby books that lined the dresser upstairs. How could he be so stupid, just letting him go like that? They didn’t even have many pictures together. One or two, maybe, and Dean hadn’t kept track of them because Cas was there and pictures didn’t matter, but now Cas was gone. Some stupid, broken part of him wanted to run back to the kitchen in his gasoline soaked boots and join Cas on the table—to drape himself over his corpse and melt into him so they couldn’t part again.

Fracture Mechanics by Rend_Herring (43, 442 words) → https://archiveofourown.org/works/32591239 

Summary: Admitting it won’t make Dean any more inconsolable than he already is, and he’ll never feel Cas’ absence any more or any less acutely than he does in this exact moment. “He’s gone,” Dean finally admits, because it seems like the only thing left to say. When the terrible, swollen vacancy of the room offers no recourse, Sam says, “I know.”

i want to do with you (what spring does with cherry trees) by sobsicles (74, 173 words) → https://archiveofourown.org/works/30969635/chapters/76489205 

Summary: Dean keeps going back. When he arrives, it's always to blooming flowers and a windmill in the background, not too far from a brook, the sun painting the plains. He likes it there. He likes to stand in front of the makeshift urn and check that it's still where he put it, switching out the flowers when they wilt. He likes to listen to the sound of birds chirping, insects singing, the faint sound of water trickling in the distance. He likes to turn his face up and feel the sun on his skin, wondering if Cas would do the same if he were here, somehow knowing that he would. He likes to talk. There's never a response, but Dean feels the breeze rustle through his hair and watches the flowers bob when bees come to them and stares as the windmill keeps turning, turning, turning. And he imagines that Cas is replying—the windmill is the tilted head, the bobbing flowers are a gentle smile, the breeze is whatever words Dean wants to hear at the time. Sometimes, it's almost like he's there.

your face in the rearview mirror by PatronSaintOfPosmodernity (32, 008 words) → https://archiveofourown.org/works/30590975/chapters/75461831 

Summary: Castiel is dead. Dean knows it, he has seen him be stabbed right in front of his eyes, has felt his grace slowly bleed out, had touched the cold body after. And now he has to watch him burn, dissolve into nothingness in front of his eyes. There's a heavy weight in his chest and a heavier one in his arms. The first is grief, the second is the baby that Cas choose to die for. (Dean hates Jack for it.) But now, this tiny baby who will one day be the most powerful being in the universe is the only thing he has left of Castiel. How does one go about it, how does one raise the child that killed the person most important for you? Well, the evolution of it goes something like this: with some resentment, a lot of healing and more love that you thought possible.

Kriah by ioascc (54, 214 words) → https://archiveofourown.org/works/34751500/chapters/86528014 

Summary: Dean can do this. He can. He can raise Jack Kline, Lucifer’s baby. No, not Lucifer’s… Cas’ kid. Their kid. With his mother gone, and Castiel dead, Dean finds himself hanging on by a thread. Castiel has died so many times on him, Dean is half-convinced himself that Cas will return to him. Dean evades the pain of the truth, carrying on in false hope until his soul renders into a million pieces. He learns quickly that taking care of a newborn is not for the faint of heart, sleep-deprivation, grief, and feedings rule most of the early days. During this time, Dean is forced to build a new life for himself. With a new name and identity change, Dean becomes a Dad. Something Castiel would be proud of. Dean cooks, he cleans, he reads, he sings his ABCs and 123s, and ultimately Dean does his best for Jack. It’s not until Jack grows into a small child that Dean feels like he can breathe again. The grief no longer suffocates him. His new life has meaning. He sees family and he allows himself to miss Castiel. To mourn him, to love him in death. And when Jack goes to school, Dean is once again reunited with friends and enemies from his past.

Our Old Heroes by AdelaClancy (499, 275 words) → https://archiveofourown.org/works/31079168/chapters/76783871 

Summary: In which Amara doesn't bring back Mary, she brings back John Winchester. Dean is uncertain what Amara's meaning is when she brings John back, and struggles with coming to terms with the new family dynamic. Sam tries harder to keep the peace than he used to, and Cas does not get along with John at all- though he tries. Testosterone is at an all-time high as these four men struggle to coexist in the hunting world with very different ideologies. We explore just how much the brothers have changed in the ten years without their father's guidance, the trauma they still haven't resolved, and the feelings that Dean and Cas hold for one another despite the very real and new barrier that is John. This story begins 12x01 and ends around 13x06

[destieltaggedfic]

Wassup do you got any fics where dean refers to himself as widower or acts like he's in a relationship o other people

I assume this is because of that post that's going around at the moment.

There is a request like this here.

Who Ya Gonna Call? – saintedcastiel   Ao3

Set 15x20 didn’t happen AU.  The end of the world passed and after an accident involving rebar Dean decides to move out of the bunker on his own.  But he quickly realises that he’s not as alone as he thinks and that some part of Cas is still around in ghost form and he’s not willing to let his friend go again.

Word Count: 49k                              No Sex

the roof at sunset - a_good_soldier   Ao3

Set 15x20 didn’t happen AU.  One day after being at his job for months, Dean tells his coworker about Cas and calls him his husband. (There's a sequel where he tells Sam too)

Word Count: 2k                                 No Sex

Kriah – ioascc  Ao3

Set S13 AU.  The bunker is no place for a baby, so Dean rebuilds Bobby’s house and adopts baby Jack, claiming that Cas was his husband.  Now he spends his years raising Jack and grieving Cas.

Word Count: 54k                              Graphic Sexual Acts

The Widower – unkindravens   Ao3

Set 15x20 didn’t happen AU.  When they are on the road Dean takes himself out to drink in bars.  One night he opens up to someone about his recent loss.

Word Count: 1k                                 No Sex

Untitled Fic – s11e17 & caskarass   tumblr

Set 15x20 didn’t happen AU.  The first part of this is the roof at sunset above, but the tumblr version has an additional part by a different author where Cas comes back.

Word Count: 4k                                 No Sex

Also if anyone knows of any more like these please send them to me. As much as angst isn't my preference I love fic like these.

[found--family]

the way dean glances all around the dungeon before burying his head in his hands..........

[dirigibleplumbing]

cover + pages 1 - 3 of my Dean/Cas comic, “Green Grass” (AO3)

this post but all the pages are there

words from the Tom Waits song of the same name, though the verses are in reverse order a re-imagining of Dean after “All Along the Watchtower,” featuring: the spot where Dean spread Cas’s ashes; excuses for me to draw Dean hanging out in lush green fields; and Cas’s return.

Tom Waits (spotify, yt); Cosmo Sheldrake (spotify, yt); Cibelle (spotify, yt)

[angeltiddies]

he’s empty. they’re free and he’s empty. he doesn’t want to tell sam, sam with his smile and his hope and his finger pointing directions to eileen’s apartment. but he is, numb and lost and empty and he doesn’t know what to do. 

and sure they’re free, and they’ve got a helluva god looking after them, but he still doesn’t feel like this is it. their big win. their big, beat god, settle the score, save the world win. and so, when they park in front of eileen’s, and sam reaches for the handle, dean stills him with a hand on his arm. and sam looks back, goofy smile fading at the emotion dean’s sure is written across his face.

dean clears his throat. he doesn’t know what to say.

sam’s voice breaks the silence.

“dean?”

dean drops his hand, then raises it to touch his left shoulder in an unconcious movement.

“just....just give me a second.”

and sam, being sam, sits. dean can feel the impatience buzzing off of him, but he knows sam will wait.

“it’s...it’s...” he can’t choke out the words

sam fills in the blank.

“cas?”

dean purses his lips, nods, glances to his brother’s too understanding eyes.

“we’ll get him back.”

dean nods again.

“that’s the problem, sammy. i...i’m not sure we will.”

and he feels hot tears on his cheeks and he wants to will them away, push them down, but god dammit, they are free and so dean’s going to allow himself to cry. god knows he deserves it.

under his breath, “fuck.”

sam’s hand smoothes over his back.

“i love ‘im, sammy.”

“i know.”

“we gotta get ‘im back.”

“we will.”

dean steels himself then, gets out of the driver’s seat and moves to the back, let’s sam run inside to reunite with his love. dean curls up, cries into the leather like he did the time they went to the fair and he dropped his ice cream and mom drove him home because he wouldn’t calm down. and he sobs, deep heaving sobs, and now he doesn’t feel so empty, just lost, and he feels sad, and he feels sorrow in his bones and the emotion shivers through him like a thunderstorm and then, it calms, it calms because his eyes are puffy and he can hear the sound of eileen’s front door, and the unintelligible words spoken by his brother to her. and like a prayer, puts his hands under his ear against the seat and he curls his knees into his chest even further and he lets his eyes droop close.

he’s exhausted. war worn. just plain fucking tired. 

so he lets his eyes close and he lets his breathing calm and he lets his hands stop shaking and he lets the tendrils of hope uncurl cautiously in his chest. and then he thinks, before sleep takes him,

we’re gonna get cas back.

[trenchcoatimpala]

Going through the motions

Hey everybody! Long time no see. I’ve written a little post 15.18 grieving Dean because I’ve been kind of IA with my writing and I had a little spare time today so I knocked this out. 

wc: 1.1k

read below or on archive 

Dean wakes up on the floor. 

He never starts the night on the floor, but that’s always where he ends up in the morning. It’s become somewhat of a routine. He does a case with Sam, they go back to the bunker, he grabs a six pack of beers and a bottle of whiskey, and he drinks to forget. But that’s the problem, he never forgets. 

He can’t forget. 

The look on Cas’s face, the tears in his eyes, the smile that was so painfully happy, and of course his words. Every time he shuts his eyes he can hear Cas’s voice in his head. 

He didn’t deserve those words. 

Dean is nothing. He’s nobody. But to Cas… to Cas he was somebody. To Cas he was always “The Righteous Man” the “Michael Sword”. He was revered by Heaven, someone to be protected, or for Cas, someone to be saved… someone to be, as it turns out, loved.

Cas should have let him rot in Hell. 

Dean sighs. He drinks. He scrubs a hand down his face. He drinks some more. 

Sam knocks on his door while Dean is just starting the last beer in the pack. He’s pleasantly buzzed. With the tolerance he’s built up over the years, six beers doesn’t do too much to him, that’s why he needs the whiskey, but the beer certainly helps. 

“Dean,” Sam says as he cautiously opens the door.

“Go away,” Dean snaps. 

“Dean, you’re going to kill yourself if you keep doing this every night.” 

Dean scoffs and holds his beer up to Sam in cheers. “You ever think that’s the point?”

Sam’s face falls. He looks like a kicked puppy. If Dean weren’t so lost, if he didn’t hurt all over, if his heart would just stop aching, then maybe he’d have cared. Hell, he might have even apologized, but he doesn’t. 

“Dean,” Sam tries again. 

“Get out,” Dean growls as he sips at his beer. 

“No.” Sam’s voice is firm. “You have to talk to me, you have to talk to somebody.” 

“Who says ’m not talkin’ to somebody?” Dean slurs. 

Sam blinks at him in confusion. “You’re drunk.”

Dean shakes his head, shifting against his pillows. “I talk to Cas, Sammy. Every night.” 

Sam sighs. It’s a sad sigh. Dean knows Sam is grieving Cas too, he didn’t get to say goodbye either, but the difference is that Dean watched Cas die. He watched it happen. Again. How many fucking times has he watched Cas die? Too many. 

“You know what I mean, Dean,” Sam says. Sam’s tired. Dean can see the bags under his eyes, the lines that are starting to creep in over his forehead and his mouth. 

“I don’t want to talk to anybody. ‘S easier when they don’t talk back.” Sam edges a little further into the room. Dean feels anger pulse through him, sudden and completely unannounced. He’s on his feet in an instant. “I said get out, Sam!” 

Sam’s eyes widen, Dean’s outburst startling him. “Let me help you, Dean.” 

“I don’t need help!” Dean practically screams. 

He’s hysterical. He feels hysterical. His blood is boiling and there’s anger thrashing in his gut and his fists are curling at his sides. He doesn’t know when they start to fly, but one second his hands are by his side, the next his fist is connecting with Sam’s face, hard. So hard, in fact, that Sam spits blood onto the floor as he staggers backwards. 

“Get.” Punch. “The.” Punch. “Fuck.” Punch. “Out.” Punch. 

There’s a sickening crunching sound when Dean’s fist hits on that last punch. He knows he broke Sam’s nose when his brother looks up at him, tears in his eyes, blood streaming from crooked nose. Dean had managed to back Sam out of his room with his attack and he towers over his brother, cold rage pouring from his body into his shaking limbs. 

“You don’t understand, Sam,” Dean says, his voice is oddly calm, distant, even to his own ears. “You don’t get it. You didn’t have to watch him-” 

Sam shifts on the ground, his hands holding his face as he cradles his injuries. Blood seeps through his fingers. “I’ve watched people I’ve cared about die before, Dean.” 

Dean’s voice is a ragged whisper when he speaks. “But you didn’t hear what he said.” 

Sam has backed himself against the wall now, keeping distance from Dean but not getting to his feet. “What did he say?” Sam ventures to ask. 

“Nothing that you need to hear.”

Dean slams the door at that. He slams it so hard the picture frame holding a photo of him and Cas, decked out in their cowboys outfits, falls off his desk and shatters on the floor. That does it for Dean. He breaks. He completely and utterly breaks. 

Sobs like he’s never felt before rip through him. He can’t stop them, even if he wanted to. He hasn’t allowed himself to cry, not since the moment it happened. He’s been trying so hard to go through the motions, to do what he was raised to do, save people and hunt things. But he can’t. He can’t. He just can’t. He can’t stop thinking about Cas. He misses him so goddamn much.

Dean falls to the ground beside the broken picture frame. His knees land in the glass, he can feel the shards break skin under his jeans. He doesn’t care. The pain is welcome. 

“I’m so sorry, Cas,” he cries through a shuddering breath. He reaches for the picture frame, pulling out the photo, holding it up so he can see. But he can’t see, not through the tears. 

Everything is blurry. 

His head is pounding, his chest is heaving, his heart feels like it’s breaking into a thousand little pieces and there’s not enough glue in the word to put it back together. 

“I failed you,” Dean whispers hoarsely to the picture. “You were always there for me, always fucking there, and I was… distant at best.” 

Dean struggles to his feet, his hand lands in the pile of glass, slices at his palm, he really doesn’t fucking care. He reaches for the bottle of whiskey on his bedside table, cracks it open, clutching the picture like if he holds onto it hard enough maybe it’ll come to life, maybe Cas will step out of the image and join him on his bed. But he doesn’t. So Dean cries, mumbling Cas’s name mixed with apologies.

He drinks until he passes out.

The next morning, he wakes up on the floor.

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