The Start of Something New
Castiel x WinchesterSister!Reader
Description: You knew better than to fall for an angel. Loving Castiel is a losing battle you never intended to fight. He's an angel, you're a human, and your brothers already spent enough time trying to keep you from living up to your nickname: Reckless. As Dean and Sam’s "reckless" little sister, you’ve never backed down from a fight--or a bad idea--but you were certain Castiel could never return your feelings. So when you dive headfirst into a demon den alone trying to save a young boy, you expect a lecture, not a death sentence. You're fading fast, but without his wings, Castiel can't reach you in time. To save your life, he performs a forbidden act that binds his grace to your heart--leaving you healed, tethered, and completely unable to ignore what you mean to him. Warnings: Violence, Impalement, Mentions of blood, Cut on throat, very mild language, PG-13 content! No use of (Y/N), only nicknames.
Word Count: 3,916
Sam quickly shifts in the passenger seat, stretching to look behind Dean’s head at the building just behind him. "She went in alone? Is she crazy? Cas isn’t even here yet."
Dean shrugs, though his knuckles are white on the steering wheel. "She's Reckless, Sammy. Literally.” He says, referencing the nickname you were given as a child. Reckless is one of your many strong suits, and once the name came out of Dean’s mouth one day, it stuck with you.
“Yeah, but still,” Sam says, his eyebrows knit up with concern. “I mean, come on. That place is crawling with demons.”
Dean lifts a walkie-talkie to his lips, flicking it on with an irritated huff. “Lex, if you can hear us on the comms, sit tight or I’m locking you in the trunk next time."
Your two brothers wait a beat before they both jump out of the Impala. Dean pops the hood, snagging an extra gun to stuff in his boot before double-checking the ammo in his pistol. Sam mirrors him, checking his weapons, but when he can’t find the demon-killing blade in his coat, he frantically pats himself down in search of it.
“What?” Dean snaps.
“She–” Sam says, letting out a frustrated sound. “She took the freaking demon blade.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Dean grumbles. “That girl’s gonna get herself killed.”
“Not on our watch,” Sam says, shutting the hatch.
They rush off toward the large brick building in the middle of nowhere, hoping to find you still kicking.
Inside, they find a body at the entrance. Dean has to shove the door open to push it aside. Both brothers note the stab wound to the chest, nod at each other, and draw their guns. As they check the building, cautiously clearing each corner together, Dean taking the lead and Sam protecting his brother's back, they find body after body, but no sign of you. Once they’ve cleared the building, Dean drops his arms at his sides irritatedly.
“Well? Where would she be?” Dean asks. “She should’ve just stayed put, as I said. Then we wouldn’t be runnin’ around trying to play catch up. Who knows where the kid is now.”
“Dean,” Sam says, watching him start to pace, “she’s an adult. And a trained one, at that. She can make her own choices.”
“Yeah, well, not if they’re stupid. Come on.” Dean waves Sam forward as he heads back downstairs. “Maybe she’s in the back.”
They make their way outside into the courtyard. It’s filled with old junk and scrap metal; nothing's been touched here for probably twenty years. Old street lights are standing at an angle or completely snapped off at the base, lying flat on the overgrown concrete below. You’re standing near the center of the large concrete pad between buildings, pulling the demon-blade out of a demon as it sizzles and falls to the ground. You catch movement from the corner of your eye and turn to see your two older brothers making their way to you with scowls on their faces you electively choose to ignore.
“Hey, guys,” you say cheerfully. “The buildings clear.”
“Yeah, we noticed,” Dean says.
“And I’ve got the kid, too,” you say, nodding behind you.
A young blonde-haired boy walks out from behind a rusty car with weeds growing out of the windshield.
“I just want to see my mom,” the boy cries.
“Oh, hey,” Sam says gently, walking up to the kid and kneeling at his height. “We’ll get you to your mom, isn’t that right?” He looks up at you.
“Absolutely,” you say, giving the young boy a smile.
“What did they want with the kid?” Dean asks.
Guiltily, you shuffle your feet and avert your eyes.
“Are you kidding me?” Dean asks, his frustration flaring. “What, you just thought you’d come in here guns a blazin’ and be the hero but forget to get the most important question answered?”
“Dean,” Sam says, standing slowly.
“No,” Dean says, briefly acknowledging Sam before turning back to you. “You put this kid’s life in danger, and you could’ve gotten yourself killed.”
“Well, I didn’t,” you say, putting a hand on your hip. “Besides, we knew this place was filled with Grade D demons–Grade C, at best. You guys were taking forever, and it’s nothing I can’t handle alone. And you literally just did this same move last week! You’re going to lecture me on ‘pulling a Dean’?”
“She’s got a point there,” Sam notes, trying to hide a smile. He’s always found it amusing when the two of you get into it. Dean has always had this strong sense to protect his two younger siblings, but when it comes to you, he can’t help but turn it up a notch, and that always sets your attitude off. The two Divas is what he’s called you both in the past, and that always gains him a glare and an eyeroll from the two of you. Before he can get the taunt out, his ear perks up. There’s a faint rhythmic ticking sound. He furrows his brows. “Uh, hey guys?” Sam says, looking around the messy courtyard for a sign of the source. “Does anyone hear that noise?”
The little boy tugs on the sleeve of Sam’s coat, and he kneels down, scooping him up in his arms. “Guys,” Sam tries again to break up you and Dean’s bickering, “I think we should get out of here.” He starts to walk backwards, keeping his eyes on the two of you while trying to make sure the young kid is out of danger. “Guys!”
“What?!” You and Dean snap, whipping your heads towards Sam at the same time.
“Let's go,” Sam says, nodding back toward the building. “There’s something off about this place, and I think we should–”
Before Sam can finish his sentence, an explosion sets off just behind you and Dean. The blast is so strong, it sends the two of you into the air and pushes Sam back with incredible force. He shields the little boy with his body, and once he skids to a stop, his back thudding against the brick building they walked out of, he props himself up to check the kid. “Are you okay?” He asks quickly; the boy nods his head. Sam flicks his attention to the rubble in front of him, searching for you and Dean with frantic eyes. “Dean?! Lexy?!” Sam yells, getting to his feet. He gestures at the kid to stay put as he walks into the rubble.
Chunks of concrete and sidewalk are crumbled and strewn around the courtyard. Pieces of brick, old bits of rubber tire, and rusty metal shrapnel mix in. Sam’s heart pumps adrenaline through his chest, worry sinking in as he doesn’t see either one of you. He shouts for you both again, stumbling over a pile of rubble.
“Sammy!” Dean shouts back, groaning in pain.
Sam turns to the right, following his brother’s voice, and finds him pushing off the ground to his feet. “Are you okay?” Sam asks quickly.
“I’m fine. Where’s Lex?” Dean asks, shaking his head as he tries to gather himself.
“I-I don’t know, you both went flying; I didn’t see where she went.” Sam stumbles out. “Lex!” Sam calls out.
Dean curses under his breath, finally getting to his feet. “What the hell was that?” He asks, stumbling into the courtyard. “Lex!” He shouts for you, desperately searching around the explosion site.
“Some sort of bomb,” Sam comments.
“No, really?” Dean asks sarcastically, glancing back at him.
Sam glances back to check on the young boy, and when he sees he’s fine and hasn’t moved from his spot, he continues searching for you. He and Dean shout your name again, walking around a large rusted-out semi-truck lying on its side. As they round the corner, they finally hear you.
“I’m here, I-I’m here,” you wrestle out, your voice hardly loud enough to cross the yard.
Sam freezes, and Dean runs into his back.
“Geeze, what are you? A mountain?” Dean snaps, fixing his jacket as he walks around his tall brother.
But all sense of humor saps from his body as his eyes meet the scene in front of him. You’re slumped against a brick wall, and your hands are clasped tightly around a snapped-off steel pole that’s impaled your abdomen. Blood slowly bubbles and seeps out around the object, soaking into your dark clothes.
“H-Hey, guys,” you say, forcing a smile as the color drains away from your face.
All at once, the boys lurch into motion, running to your side, eagerly trying to find a solution.
“Don’t move,” Dean says sternly.
“Don’t worry, we’re getting you out of this,” Sam says.
“Is the kid okay?” You ask worriedly.
“The kid’s fine, he’s fine,” Sam reassures.
“Cas,” Dean calls out.
“I-I tried that already,” you stutter out over the pain.
You had. As you lay in the dirt, feeling the metallic heat of your own blood pooling beneath you, before your brothers found you, your frantic mind hadn't called for safety or a miracle–it had called for him. And in the terrifying clarity that only comes when death is staring you down, the fragile lie that you’ve been telling yourself crumbled to dust. You didn't just have a soft spot for the awkward angel. You didn't just flirt with him to keep things light. You were hopelessly, completely in love with Castiel, though you knew it would never go anywhere. If this was really the end, the cruelest part wasn't dying in a rusty old courtyard–it was dying with that truth still trapped in your throat, and never getting to hear what he might say to the truth. Now, you’re trying not to hyperventilate, but your damaged lungs seem to have a mind of their own.
“No, no, no,” Sam says in rapid succession. “Just breathe, Lex, it’s gonna be just fine.”
“Yeah, what Sam said,” Dean says, kneeling at your side. “You’re gettin’ out of this, there’s no two ways about it.”
“Dean,” you say, tears forcing their way over your cheeks. “Sammy.” You tilt your head, looking at both of your brothers in turn. “I love you, guys.”
“Stop that,” Dean snaps. “Don’t you say goodbye. You’re fine.”
Your hand, wet with blood, slips off the pole in your side, and Sam reaches out, taking it in both of his with shaking hands.
“We’re right here, Lex,” Sam says, his voice tight and hushed.
“Stop that,” Dean says, looking at Sam briefly before turning his attention back to you. “You’re fine. Cas,” Dean tries again. “Cas, please, please, get here as fast as you can. It’s Lex. And she needs your help.”
“W-When Cas gets here,” you stutter out, the pain sucking the air out of your lungs. “Can you tell him… tell him that I–” You wince, feeling hot and cold all at once. Sweat drips down your back, but your hands and feet are as cold as ice. Your teeth start to chatter, and you taste a pungent iron flavor in the back of your mouth.
Sam rubs your cold hand in his, trying to warm your fingers and give you some sort of comfort. He knows what’s happening; he just can’t believe it.
You take in the presence of both of your brothers. You know your death is going to wreck them, and you can’t help but feel guilty. “I’m sorry,” you cry, unable to stop the crack in your voice.
Dean immediately softens, moving in closer to you and placing a firm hand on your shoulder. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he says, though his eyes flick from yours to the seeping wound. “I’m not letting you die here.” He leans down and slides his arms under your back and legs, but just that small movement makes you scream in pain. He freezes, rethinking the plan in his head.
“Dean, stop!” Sam says, squeezing your hand. “She’ll bleed out if you move her!”
“She’s going to bleed out if we don’t do something!” Dean shouts back.
Your head rocks forward as your body threatens to shut down, and Dean shifts his hold to cradle you in his arms, letting your head fall on his shoulder.
“This isn’t happening,” Dean says, more to himself than anyone else. His heart sinks as he gives you a nudge, but no sound leaves your lips. “Don’t shut your eyes! Sammy, are her eyes closed?”
Sam lifts his hands to his hair, pulling at the strands as he sits back, watching your eyes flutter shut, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell his brother. His stomach twists, once again feeling helpless.
Castiel rushes around the corner, the back of his coat snapping against his legs as he runs as fast as he can to you. He heard your frantic prayers–he felt the desperation in Dean’s, too–but without his wings, the distance from you felt like an agonizing eternity. He skids to a stop beside Dean, his chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths. For millennia, angels had existed as unfeeling soldiers of Heaven, incapable of the soft, terrifying vulnerabilities of mortal existence, but his time living as a human has changed him. It’s carved open a soul inside him, leaving Cas stranded in a strange middle ground; an angel burdened with the terrifying capacity to feel. And right now, looking down at your limp form cradled in Dean’s arms, your blood staining the dirt, pure, unadulterated terror claws at him. If he had a beating heart, it would be racing, thumping loudly against his ears; he’s sure of it.
“Let her go,” Cas demands, dropping to his knees beside you.
Dean lays you down on the dirt-covered ground and scoots back just enough to give Cas room. “Well, come on!” Dean yells. “Heal her!”
“It’s not that simple, Dean,” Cas states. He reaches his hand out, touching your forehead; there’s a glow, but your eyes stay shut. “Her injuries are immense. She is barely holding on. We have to remove the object from her abdomen before I can assess the extent of her wounds.”
“Well, stop talking and just do what needs to be done,” Dean sasses.
Cas reaches out to grab the post stuck in your body, but Sam stops him.
“I got it,” he says. Sam grasps the pole with both hands and looks at Cas. “Ready?”
“Yes, ready,” Cas says with a nod of his head.
Sam shuts his eyes, and with a firm pull, he dislodges the scrap-made spear, tossing it aside. Blood pours from your side, the pole having gone clean through, and Sam and Dean hold onto the sliver of hope that you’ll be alright.
“Come on, kid,” Dean whispers, his heart rate through the roof as he watches Cas try to heal you a second time, but to no avail. This can’t be happening, he thinks.
“Why isn’t it working?” Sam asks, his breath catching in the back of his throat.
Castiel doesn’t respond. Instead, he lifts both of his hands to the sides of your head, and a light blue glow emits from his hands. A pained groan escapes him, his eyes shutting tight as he tries to piece you back together, atom by atom. He can’t let you die. Not you.
The brothers watch as the hole in your waist gradually starts closing up, fresh skin covering over the wound. Color returns to your cheeks, and they lean in, holding their breath.
The glow from Cas’s hands stops, and he lets out a stressed exhale, opening his eyes. When he isn’t met with yours, his face pinches together with worry. “I don’t understand,” Cas says, his voice deep and confused. “That should have worked. I… I…” In a flip, he turns to Dean. “Give me the angel blade.”
“Why, what do you need it for?” Dean asks, eyeing Cas.
“Dean, give it to me now, or your sister dies,” Castiel says firmly.
Without another word, Dean pulls the angel blade out of his coat and hands it over.
“You may want to consider giving us room,” Cas says, taking the blade.
Instantly, Sam and Dean rush to their feet, backing away a few steps.
Cas takes a breath, steeling his nerves. He has suppressed his feelings for months, knowing an angel had no place loving a human. But knowing you has cracked every rule he’s ever set for himself. Cas looks at your beautiful face, and for a moment, he simply presses his left hand to your cheek, faintly feeling your pulse grow weaker as he realizes exactly what he is about to do. He has no idea the repercussions, but he’d do anything to keep you here.
A line of crimson drips from the side of your mouth, darkening your lips, and it’s all he needs to see to do what he has to. He sets the angel blade down to lift you into his lap. “This has to work,” he whispers. He can’t imagine this world without you, so if there is something he can do to save you, he will take that risk again, and again. Castiel takes the angel blade in his hand and brings the sharp edge to his neck.
“Whoa, Cas, wait,” Sam stumbles out quickly.
“Cas!” Dean shouts as he watches his best friend slit his throat.
Bright white light seeps from the incision, blinding in its intensity as Cas pulls you tight against his chest. He can feel his grace–raw, ancient, and burning–tearing itself from his essence and pouring past your lips, filling your lungs with divine fire. It burns with the excruciating heat of falling into the Sun, threatening to rip him apart, but he grits his teeth and endures the agony. He would give you every last drop of his divinity if it guaranteed your breath. He only hopes you can forgive him for the mark it will leave, tethering a piece of his grace to your soul.
He lets you back down slowly and drops the blade behind him. Cas lifts his hand to his neck and heals the wound there, feeling an intense exhaustion pull at his limbs.
“Geeze, Cas,” Dean says, his voice hushed.
“We’ve never seen you do that before,” Sam says, equally as quiet.
“Yeah, well,” Cas says, his tired eyes still fixated on you, “it’s not really something I’m supposed to do.”
“Did it work?” Dean asks, taking a step closer.
“She should wake up,” Cas says. But when he doesn’t see your chest rise, he clenches his jaw. The tiny light of hope in his chest flickers.
“Why isn’t she moving?” Sam asks, moving in.
“I don’t know. It should have worked. I gave her my grace–”
You take an alarming breath in, and as if suddenly being reborn, your eyes open wide. They glow with Castiel’s grace for a moment so brief, your brothers don’t notice… but Cas does, and he feels his chest tighten.
“Holy–” Dean lets out a relieved breath, spinning around to take a few wide steps before walking back to you and Cas. “Don’t ever do that to me again!”
Sam smiles wide, wiping the budding tears from his eyes. “Cas, thank you,” he says earnestly.
“Of course,” Cas says, glancing up at Sam, still holding you firmly in his arms. “I–” His words stop short at feeling your hand on his chest. He turns his attention back to you, his face scrunching in concern.
You rest in Cas’s arms so comfortably, you’ve forgotten the pain of it all, and you’ve forgotten why you’re lying here in the first place. Something you can’t quite place rushes through your veins. Something warm and electric hums just beneath your skin, and for a fleeting second, as Castiel’s blue eyes lock onto yours, you swear you feel an emotion so strong, it steals the air from your lungs. You gasp again, though this time quieter, near shock as the sensation courses through every cell in your body. Your hand rests firmly on his chest, grasping at the fabric of his white button-up, trying to form words in the midst of the world spinning. You swear his eyes glow for a second, but maybe you’re just hallucinating…
“Are you still in pain?” Castiel asks, his eyebrows creasing together. “I can give you my grace again if that was not enough.”
“Your grace?” You ask, confused. “You gave me your grace?”
“Yes,” he says, “some of it. You were dying.”
“I…” You can’t find the words. Your mind is surging with a pure energy, and the sensation is almost too much to bear.
When you don’t immediately respond, Cas lifts his hand to your forehead, pressing his palm there worriedly. He closes his eyes, focusing on your form, but when he confirms you’ve been completely healed and his grace is indeed running through your veins and tangling with the threads of your soul, he feels a wash of nervousness and relief all at the same time. He pulls his hand back and meets your eyes again. “How are you feeling?”
“I feel… strange…” You say in awe, your eyes locked on his.
“Strange?” Dean says.
“Strange how?” Sam adds.
You hardly hear their voices. They’re drowned out by the loud thrumming in your ears–a remnant of what you assume is Cas’s grace. “Castiel,” you whisper his full name, your eyes wide, taking in the sensation the best you can.
“It will be alright,” Cas says. “It may be a little overwhelming at first, but my grace cannot hurt you. Can you sit up?”
“Yeah, I think so,” you say, your eyebrows creasing. Normally, you’d have a witty comment perfectly locked and loaded, ready to shoot, but Cas was right; the sensation is overwhelming.
“Good,” Cas says. He presses a firm hand to your back and helps you sit up. A moment later, he’s standing on his feet and offering you his hand.
You take it, and he lifts you. Your veins thrum with his energy, and you swear that even his touch feels different, as if you can sense the grace running through his veins as it now does yours. You open your mouth to say thank you, but your two brothers leap into action, grasping both you and Castiel in their wide embrace. It was brief, but a warm squeeze, and they break away, thanking Cas and half-scolding you for staying true to your name.
“I’m serious,” Dean says, “next time, I’m shutting you in the trunk.”
“What?” You ask, confused.
Sam laughs, grasping your shoulder with a comforting squeeze. “Don’t worry about it. Dean’s just joking.”
“Am I?” Dean asks. “Cause I really don’t think I am.”
As they continue their banter back and forth, you can’t help but watch Castiel. You’ve seen him heal your brothers more times than not, but he’s never used his grace before. You realize just how close to death you were, and when his eyes meet yours, the sound of your brothers’ chatter fades. Why is he looking at me like that? Is there something on my face? You touch the side of your face absentmindedly. But before you can ask the angel what’s wrong, he looks away.
“I-I’ll be in the car,” he stutters out awkwardly.
Your brothers don’t even notice his retreat; they’re too wrapped up in you to care, but you notice. And you wonder what’s changed between the two of you.
✨A/N: Since y'all seemed to really like the last one of these, I've put another little somethin' somethin' together for my fellow Castiel lovers. I already posted on my TMNT fanfic, so I do not feel guilty posting a different fanfic this time 🤣
How are we feeling about the nickname? It was either Reckless AKA Lex/Lexy, or Calamity Jane AKA Calamity/Cally, which I may use in others since these are all just short stories.
Also available to read on Quotev: Quotev Link Here
