Favourite part of Bruce and Dick is their mutual concerning degree of unwavering faith in eachother
Especially when Dick pivots so hard from angst and frustration towards Bruce to " I am the only person who really understands B. Back off. " Against some yippity upstart who dares give lip about Batman, romantic or hostile.
Which led to me to theorise Slade is not equipped to deal with that type of zeal. Which makes the kidnap / apprentice arc trope funny as hell to think about
No like with Slade loyalty is hierarchical. It's trusting your orders more than your own personality.
Dick will bite and scratch and lead an army of teenage superheroes against the Justice League to save the day
But he will also literally rip his beating heart out for Bruce.
So Slade would be so damn uncomfortable carrying that kind of devotion. Because it would not be something terrible when luck runs out for Dick.
And guys like Slade hide behind blood ties and warriors sense of debt and honour. It's an obligation to serve, not a choice.
Dick dying for Slade would be one heck of a catalyst towards a redemption arc, because that euphoric sense of happiness Dick has when putting himself in mortal danger
Would probably serve as one of the few " I don't wanna do this anymore " moments for Slade.
Dean almost didn’t look at first - he was ready to write it off as his ears playing tricks on him again like they’d done many, many times in the past.
He looked, though.
Of course he did.
Dean slowly lolled his head to one side to see a trench coat-clad figure standing in the corner of his room, a half-smile tugging on the corner of his lips.
Dean just stared for a moment, squinting, then let out a chuckle.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“I highly doubt that.” Castiel said, looking almost shy.
Dean hummed.
“You’ve got some explaining to do, you know.” Dean said, wagging a finger in Castiel’s direction. “Just up and leaving me alone like that? Gives a guy all sorts of mixed signals.”
Castiel dropped his gaze.
“That wasn’t my intention. I apologize, Dean.” He looked back up and seemed to let himself smile again. “At the time, I - I wasn’t expecting a moment like that to ever present itself.”
“Yeah, well,” Dean cleared his throat, “You should’ve.”
Castiel took a cautious step forward.
“I know that now.”
Silence fell between them again as they took the time to stare.
“So,” Dean said, the first one to break it, “What brings you back? Didja leave something behind?”
The lines of Castiel’s face softened as he looked down at Dean, and nodded as he took a seat in the chair next to his bed.
“I believe I did.”
Dean swallowed and awkwardly let one of his hands fall open next to him on the bed - an invitation and a question.
“Well. You know. Guess you should take it back with you.”
Castiel seemed to let out a relieved breath and rested his hand in Dean’s, squeezing once. It was warm and comforting in a way Dean hadn’t felt in a long time, and yet had always felt.
This is what he’d been missing.
This is what he’d always had.
“Don’t worry,” Castiel said reassuringly, “I plan to.”
Dean nearly lost himself staring at Castiel again; he would have been content to stay like that forever.
“Dean?”
Dean turned to look at Sam on the other side of him, who was frowning like something was wrong.
Sam’s hair was gray, so gray that Dean felt like pointing it out to him, but for some reason doing so felt like a familiar urge that he’d indulged in several times before already.
“Who are you talking to?”
Dean smiled and jerked his head in Castiel’s direction.
“Cas, man. He’s back.”
Dean watched Sam’s eyes glaze over where Castiel was currently seated, his eyes scanning the entire room before landing back on Dean.
“You see Cas?” Sam asked, his voice breaking.
“‘Course.” Dean squeezed Castiel’s hand, and the heart monitor he was attached to picked up pace briefly. “‘Course he came back.”
A tear had slipped down Sam’s face by the time he turned back.
“Sammy? You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m -” Sam hurriedly wiped it away and cleared his throat, “What’s he saying?”
“He’s just here to get something he left behind.” Dean said, turning back to Castiel, “Right?”
“Right.” Castiel murmured.
Dean smiled at Castiel, his heart so full, completely juxtaposing the tears that Sam was now trying to hide.
How could Sam feel so sad about something that was making Dean so happy?
“Sam -”
“Sorry,” Sam clasped his hands in front of him and sniffed, “I’m - I’m just happy for you. He came back. That’s - that’s awesome.”
Dean shook his head with an amused huff of air.
“About damn time, too,” Dean said with a wink in Castiel’s direction, “Do you think I can convince him to stay this time?”
The sound of sniffing was all he could hear from Sam as Castiel tilted his head to the side and leaned forward.
“I’ll never leave your side again, Dean Winchester. I promise.”
“Mmmm.” Dean said, laying his head back down on the hospital bed, closing his eyes, and finally feeling whole. “I like that.”
"I'll take it, don't worry. I'll take it. Just give me a bit more time. Let me age with my- our family for a bit longer. Just a few more weeks and then we'll freshen up this old face for you, yes, my love?"
Anthony asked for a bit more time. He always did. But in the end. In the end, he died quickly and unexpectedly. He died and left Loki with an apple and nothing but regrets.
They'd promised to stay together forever. The apple, a wedding gift, a show of goodwill from Odin but Frigga was who truly gave it to them.
Anthony had wanted to wait, just for a while. To grow older as Loki's and Anthony's adopted children matured. Harley and Peter, such bright souls. The apple would have taken those years away, solidifying the bond between Loki and his love, matching their years...
Anthony had never eaten the apple and Loki wouldn't- couldn't leave.
Thor and Frigga came, they tried to take him and his apple. Tried to separate him from Anthony, but his magic lashed out. Threw them away.
And they never came back.
And Loki.
Loki stayed with his love, forever, as they had sworn.
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.
Tag List: To be Added like/comment/reblog the post on this link
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So @fandomseverywhereassemble got this idea stuck in my head...
Curse you Kerry
Shance, 500 words, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, Car accidents.
Unbeta'd, as always I'm prone to mistakes.
~~~~~~~
“Are you okay, Mr. McClain?” A man in a snowy white lab coat spoke calmly, sitting down in the padded desk chair behind the computer.
“F-fine.” Lance stutters, blowing his nose on a already over used tissue.
“Are you certain?” The doctor asks again, laying a thick stack of papers in front of Lance.
“I'm okay!” Lance reassures with a simple hand motion, laying the wet tissue in his lap.
The doctor was talking faster than Lance can listen, but that was okay in his book. He didn't need that many details, lest having a breakdown in the doctor's office.
The only thing he needs to know is that Shiro has six months to live, and he's not leaving his coma-state until then.
The infection that took his arm spread quicker than they thought, and it reached his brain before they could help it.
His brain was shutting down, soon he wouldn't be able to keep his body working and no matter all the medical devices in the world could save him at that point.
Lance blinked more tears out of his eyes, before he got home and sobbed.
~~~~~~
Shiro looked peaceful like this.
Three months after he slipped into the coma, he now had a million devices hooked up to him. He had lost far too much weight, looking like a ghost of his former self. Despite this, he still looked like an angel, eyes closed and white hair laying down on snowy pillows and blankets covering up various chords attached to his chest.
Even with the feeding tube shoved down his parted lips, the doctor assures he didn't feel pain. He was dreaming of something lovely, the nurses said.
But the destination of death was in his close future. His original death date had been cut in half, and according to the doctor, he was already running on borrowed time.
“Goodbye, Takashi.” Lance whispered as he squeezed his hand.
He let one final phrase fall past his lips before he left, possibility for good.
“I love you.”
~~~~~
He wasn't focused on the road driving home.
It wasn't his fault, tears were flowing freely now that he was out of the hospital. He knew he should pull over, but he just wanted to get home and collapse on his bed and cuddle up with one of Shiro's old sweatshirts and cry.
It made it worse that it was winter, below freezing and snowing.
A blizzard hit, blocking his vision completely, windshield covering in powdery snow.
He could have prevented it, he realized later.
But at that moment, his truck slid on ice and a fourteen wheeler slammed into the driver's side window.
All he registered in that moment was the sound of shattering glass and a bright light.
~~~~~~
He heard the EMTS yelling something around him.
He faintly heard beeping as he was hooked up to various machines inside the ambulance.
And the bright light returned.
His boyfriend was there, bathed in a gentle glow, hair sparkling like it was covered in fine, silver glitter.
He was back to his muscled figure, in peak condition like he was before he slipped into that terrible coma.
He held out his hand, a warm smile gracing his lips.
Lance happily took it, and closed his eyes as light bathed him as well.
