Summary: “How is it? To be in love?’’ Jack’s question had taken them all by surprise.
Note: This is a fanfiction I wrote in french two years ago. I'm trying to translate some of them, it helps me practice my english :) This is not my mother tongue, I hope there won't be too many errors. Feel free to let me know if you notice anything, I'm all for improvement :-) Thank you for giving it a chance! <3
***
“How is it? To be in love?’’
Jack’s question had taken them all by surprise. Sam was absentmindedly listening to a podcast, while Cas had just joined Dean, who was throwing cereals in a bowl. They stopped what they were doing, their attention drawn to the young man’s question after he just entered the kitchen.
Dean looked deeply confused. “Huh?’’
“I was reading this book,’’ Jack explained, showing them the object causing his questioning, “and the way people describe that feeling makes me want to fall in love. It sounds really nice.’’
“First Jack, this…’’ Dean pointed what Jack was holding, “…is NOT a book, this is a magazine, a thing chicks usually like to read on a beach. And two, what is it even doing here?!’’ he said accusingly, directly looking at his brother.
Sam cleared his throat, embarrassed, and looked away. “So hmm, Jack, why do you wanna fall in love?’’
“I’d like to share that kind of bond with a person. The way people are talking about it, the way it makes them feel… Do you think a Nephilim could fall in love?’’
They exchanged shy looks, except Dean and Cas, who cautiously avoided each other’s eyes.
“I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to,’’ Sam finally answered.
“I’m part angel, and they’re not known for being especially in touch with their feelings. Have you ever been in love?’’ he suddenly asked Cas, turning his body to him.
The angel’s eyes were looking at the ground.
“Well… history has proved that angels can fall in love and give up everything they have to live that romance,’’ the angel said, avoiding to answer the real question.
“With a human?’’ the young man asked curiously.
Cas stuttered, which usually never happened. “I… yeah… I mean… this is usually how it worked. Love is the most human feeling of all, and only humans could inspire an angel to feel it.’’
“You’re living the life of a hunter now, Jack,’’ Dean intervened, while he had remained silent so far. “Hunters rarely get to live the perfect life with their loved one. Our way of life doesn’t allow us to do that.’’
“Oh… so, you’ve never been in love?’’
Dean instantly regretted opening his mouth. He rolled his eyes, trying to look casual, but his look awkwardly drifted to the angel sitting next to him.
“That’s not really my point. What I mean is… whatever feelings you have, acting on them would be way too dangerous for that person. It would be used against you. Some lives have been destroyed. The feeling of the loss… sometimes, it’s just too much.’’
“Like you, when Castiel died?’’
The brown hair angel frowned interrogatively at the mention of Dean’s reaction to his death, while Sam repressed a smile. A part of him was really enjoying the fact that Jack, considering how innocent he was, confronted Dean about what happened when Cas was gone. In the meantime, the eldest Winchester was damning himself for even bringing up the subject. He was pretty sure his face was turning red, real fast.
“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to understand,’’ Jack said curiously when he was left with no answer for a moment.
Dean was struggling to find his words and was finally about to say something when Sam intervened, preventing him from explaining —he knew it would have been a sad attempt at saving face.
“Jack, the thing is… you don’t get to choose. When you fall in love, it just happens to you. You don’t have a say on it. You sometimes don’t even realize it’s happening until it’s too late.’’
“Have you ever been in love?’’
Sam looked awkward for a moment. “Yeah… I mean, it’s a beautiful feeling. Like you’re being seen and understood in a unique way. Your heart beats faster in the presence of the person, there’s something really special about it. It makes you feel safe and strong, and at the same time, fragile and vulnerable, because you know how much you have to loose. It’s difficult to describe.’’
“What happened?’’ Jack asked curiously.
The youngest Winchester looked down. “They died,’’ he said, thinking of Jess but also Eileen —he may not have gotten the time to fall in love with her but not matter what it meant at the time, he loved her. “Which happens… way too often, because of our way of life.’’
“But… do you regret it?’’
A sad smile appeared on Sam’s lips. “No. I don’t.’’
***
The next evening, on their way to a case, Dean had to stop the car for some gas and food supplies. Sam couldn’t join them the moment they leaved the Bunker. He had something to do first, that would help them for their new mission, and was supposed to meet them later. While Dean was out of the car, Jack —who was sitting in the back seat— decided to ask Castiel a question that only he (besides the eldest Winchester himself) could answer.
“Is Dean in love with you?’’
Cas’ face suddenly froze. He was looking away, sitting in the passenger seat on the front of the car. For a moment, Jack wasn’t sure he had been heard by the angel.
“No,’’ Cas finally said, while he was looking down. “Why are you asking?’’
“Yesterday, Sam said that being in love with someone makes your heart beat faster. Dean’s heart is beating faster when he’s looking at you. Yours, too.’’
Cas looked intrigued for a moment. “Things are not that simple, Jack.’’
“Why wouldn’t they be? When you died, Dean was desperate. He looked empty, was drinking a lot… I didn’t see him sleep much either. Aren’t those signs of a deep loss and indicators of a romantic attachment?’’
“That’s his usual way of coping,’’ the angel simply answered.
Jack was skeptical. “I’ve been with you for months. It seemed different.’’
“Even if it was, it doesn’t matter,’’ he said sadly.
“And you? Do you love him?’’
“Of course I love the Winchesters. They are my family.’’
“No… I mean… are you in love with Dean?’’ Jack clarified, not realizing how insistant he was.
“Again, I’m not sure it matters,’’ Cas said in a cryptic voice.
“Looks like you are.’’
“I’m not even sure of what it means, Jack. Love is a very dangerous thing to feel when you are an angel.’’
“Same way it is when you’re a hunter?’’
“Well… the angels, they already used Dean as a way to pressure and manipulate me, in the past. An angel once said that I was lost the moment I laid a hand on Dean in Hell. She was right. But I would do it over and over again, if given a choice,’’ he ended up saying with a soft smile.
“So you love him,’’ Jack concluded.
Cas sighed. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter. Dean doesn’t deserve that kind of weight to be put on his shoulders. My feelings are my own, he shouldn’t have to handle them.’’
The young man seemed thoughtful for a second. “But what if they were mutual? Wouldn’t it be better if…’’
Dean came back to the car, interrupting their conversation. “Look what I got!’’ he said while sitting again in the driver’s seat.
He handed a nougat bar to Jack, who took it with a smile, and put the rest of the supplies at Cas’ feet.
“You okay, man?’’ he asked in a concerned tone, when he realized how off the expression on the angel’s face was.
“I’m okay, I’m just thinking,’’ Cas tried to answer casually.
“Keep some of your thinking energy for the case, I think we gonna have a hard time with this one,’’ he said with a half-smile.
Cas kept his eyes on the Winchester, who was starting the car again. At this moment, it just clicked. Now that words had been used to define how he felt, he couldn’t pretend that these feelings weren’t there. Not anymore.
Staring at the Winchester, he realized for the first time how deeply lost he was.
Warnings: MCD, No Plot - Just thoughts and feels. Heavy Feels.
Summary: In which Castiel realizes what could have been with Dean Winchester. If only.
Notes: This is my first ever fanfic! Not so canon-abiding, in the sense that angels can’t just go ahead and visit souls in heaven. I mean, that’d be too easy wouldn’t it? ;) Also, I’ve always found the idea of multiverses so emotional. And this just kept resonating in my head. So I wrote it up. I literally couldn’t sleep until I did.
Castiel walked into the room in shock.
There it was. Blood and blade. That was all he could register as he looked at the scene. In the eons that he’s lived, Castiel has seen more than neither man nor angel should ever be asked to endure. He was a soldier, a warrior of the almighty father. These days there were only a few things that could faze him, after all the evils that he has witnessed: of the world, of heaven, and of hell. But this - this was different.
Somewhere out there, in another world.
It was surreal. There he was, the righteous man, sprawled on a slab of concrete slowly staining red. The blood emanated from a knife in his chest, pooling at his sides, to his plaid shirt, and onto the cement floor. It was a mess, but he seemed to be at peace - no breath, just stillness. It almost seemed as if he simply decided to lay there and sleep, if not for the lack of color on his face.
Castiel rushed over to him, his knees buckling under the weight of the scene. Every footstep he made resonated in his ears. Tap. Tap. Tap. Time was of the essence. He willed his ash-laden wings to bring him to Dean’s side, but they served no purpose these days. Why couldn’t he fly? Why couldn’t he run more quickly?
“Dean,” was all Castiel could muster as he arrived at the man’s side. He knelt down and placed two fingers on Dean’s forehead. In a second, Castiel’s body was suffused with grace, and his hand exuded a silvery blue sheen. He willed to heal this man. He willed to bring him back from the precipice, and he hoped he was not too late.
In another world, those hands would be used to hold Dean’s.
Castiel tried again. And again. And again. Each time he felt his grace reach a void - a dark, consuming emptiness. Castiel felt it the first time he tried, and he knew what it meant. It meant he was too late, but he chose to forget that, because this was Dean.
He was an angel. To bring about miracles was his sworn duty. Would he fail Dean Winchester, the righteous man, once again? Would he fail to bring back this soul that shone so brightly it was almost blinding? Castiel longed to see that glimmer again. No. He couldn’t accept that. Yes, soldiers fall in every battle. But this - this was different.
This was Dean.
This was Dean and Castiel is failing him. If only he had arrived earlier - if only he had run faster. If only he’d still had his wings. If only he were more powerful. If only he could do something right for once. Castiel recalled all the times he’d failed this man, but damn if he would do it again. Not this time.
There, beside Dean, Castiel sat down. He clasped his hands together. And he prayed.
In another world, his prayers would be answered.
He prayed for a miracle. This angel of the lord who has listened to the voices of men in need for thousands of years was now the one in need. It was almost poetic, in the cruelest sense possible, but God will hear him. God will listen to him. He was Castiel, was he not? He has always held favor with God. He never truly understood why, but now was the time he needed the Lord’s favor the most.
“Bring him back.”
Seconds passed.
“I beg you. Bring him back.”
Minutes passed.
“Please. Please hear me.”
He prayed with all his might. Truthfully, it didn’t even make sense. God could either hear him or he couldn’t - or he wouldn’t. To pray harder makes no difference. But Castiel had to try. He had to try. Because this time, this time was different.
And indeed, it was different. Castiel was an angel. He was a guardian of the lord’s creations. He should have protected Dean. This shouldn’t have happened. It was his duty, and he couldn’t accept failure. Not again. Not this time. Not with Dean.
Especially not with Dean.
“Bring him back.”
He said it again and again. Bring him back. Bring him back. Bring him back. The words sputtered out without rhyme or reason. Bring him back. Bring him back. His hands clasped harder each time, reddening under the pressure of his grasp. Bring him back.
And in the senselessness of it all, Castiel felt his eyes well up.
In another world, he wouldn’t have to bring him back. He was already there. Always.
The tears flowed, but he did not whimper. He did not make a sound. Dean wouldn’t have wanted that. He would’ve wanted Castiel to stay strong. He would’ve wanted him to hold his head up high. He would’ve wanted him to keep fighting. To make the world a better place. To be there for Sam, for Jack.
But all Castiel wanted was for Dean to come back.
Because there are so many things he never said. So many thoughts he never shared. So many moments that were lost in time and never celebrated. Castiel’s mind became befuddled with thoughts. He was confused, angry, and in despair. He didn’t understand why this happened. Couldn’t understand. Wouldn’t understand.
He remembered how Dean had once brought him to a strip club - a den of iniquity. It was a disconcerting experience, being exposed to the baser desires of humanity. He remembered Dean’s laugh when he said that he hadn’t had that much fun in a long time. Castiel was confused then. He never understood what was so pleasurable about the experience, but Dean was happy. And that was enough.
Castiel will never hear that laugh again.
He remembered how Dean had given him a mixtape of his favorite Led Zeppelin songs, and all Castiel could think about right now was how he would never be able to ask Dean what the lyrics to Ramble On meant. Who was gollum and why did he slip away with the woman?
It was ridiculous, he knew, but he would never have the chance to ask again.
He remembered shopping for Dean. With the weight of his failure crushing him right now, he remembered this. Beef jerky, Busty Asian Beauties, Tissue, Beer, Eggs, Pie. His grocery list ran through his mind. Castiel didn’t understand why he was remembering this now. Why this memory? Why now?
Pie.
He remembered how the cashier said they didn’t have pie. He remembered his rage at that statement. The absolute blasphemy of it. The gall. He remembered how Metatron showed up right then and there, and he never got to give the groceries to Dean.
And now he’ll never be able to bring Dean a pie, a beer, nor a magazine ever again.
Castiel sat down with his thoughts, beside Dean. Beside this man whom he loved, and thought of nothing other than how meaningless it all was. If only he’d said the things he’d always meant to say. If only he were an angel of more words. If only they’d had more time. If only.
Because somewhere out there, somewhere out in the vast expanses of space and time, there is another world. A world where Castiel said what needed to be said. A world where he could hold Dean’s hand. Where his prayers were always answered, because Dean was always there. Always. Where he would have all the time in the world to ask him about Led Zeppelin, to hear his laugh, to bring him pie. Where he could profess his love without fear and restraint.
Somewhere out there, in another world, Castiel and Dean Winchester are lovers, bound not by blood but as kindred spirits. And he would see that soul shine brightly everyday as he said the words:
Author: punkdestiel
Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: M/M, F/M, F/F
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Castiel
The sky had always fascinated Castiel. On some crazy nights when he lay beneath them, he was convinced that they got him like nobody else ever would. Like he belonged there. But he never imagined to find his heaven on earth.
The story about a lost punk who finds his place on the side of an unsettled hipster.
Prompt: Imagine your OTP running into each other under the mistletoe. Person A blushes and goes to suggest that they don’t have to kiss but Person B cuts them off with a kiss.
Castiel just needed to breathe for a second. Crowded rooms made him anxious and if this Christmas party was anything, then that. Crowded. Too many people in a too small space. His fingers clenched around the beer bottle.
“Sorry, can I…” His words fighting against the beat, Castiel squeezed through a tiny gap. He cursed himself for agreeing to this. But Charlie could be so damn convincing if she wanted something.
“Would you please move? I need to… Thanks.” He had nearly made it to the entrance. His exit. His eyes focused on the door and too late he saw him. Their bodies collided.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Castiel asked, ignoring the mild pain in his ribs where the stranger’s elbow had hit him.
“No need to be sorry, I should’ve paid more attention.” The guy quickly apologized. “I’m fine and you?” He eyed him from head to toe. Castiel’s breathing quickened and a warm, tingly feeling spread out in his stomach at the sight of those green eyes roaming over his body.
“You do notice where we’re standing, right?" The guy grinned and pointed upwards after Castiel looked at him in confusion. A mistletoe, right above their heads. Castiel couldn’t help the blush spreading out on his cheeks.
"Oh God, you don’t have to kiss me! It’s just a stupid plant, it’s-” He was cut off by lips meeting his own. The kiss was chaste, no tongue, nothing forced, giving Castiel the opportunity to draw back. But he didn’t want to, although he could feel curious eyes lingering on them. The guy must have to, because he pulled back. Castiel’s eyes fluttered open. And then, anxiety hit him forcefully.
“Sorry, I, I need to get out.” He pushed past everybody, finally taking those last steps towards the door. A cold evening breeze welcoming him, as he stepped out of the house.
“You sure you’re okay?” Castiel didn’t even need to look over his shoulder to know that the guy had followed him. “I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to kiss you. I should have asked I’m-” This time it was Castiel’s turn to cut him off.
“It’s not that! I just needed to breathe. So many people in one place, it’s suffocating." Castiel walked a couple of steps before leaning against the house wall, immediately relaxing.
"Oh well, then.” The guy grinned again.
“You can go in again, if you want to. I’m fine, I promise.”
“Like hell I’m going in there again.” He walked up to him, leaning right next to him. The smug grin still on his face. “And after all it’s winter. You’ll need someone to keep you warm.”
- Zoe (dylxncbrien)
Another awesome present that I can’t thank you enough for, Zoe, I LOVED IT!!! You’re truly an amazing writer ♥
Rules: Use 5 minutes and only 5 to write a quick drabble. No editing just upload
Tagged by @deanirae ;D and complete with typo because I took the no editing rule seriously, ha.
It starts off slowly, the trickle of sand in an hourglass. One grain after another, piece by piece by piece. Cas doesn’t even notice. He’s too busy, their new god, flying across the world, casting a shadow as dark as the crushed particles slowly building up inside him, massing and forming. Sand doing what it does best, getting in the cracks, working its way out of where it’s being held, spreading on through to all of the rest of his body.
Cas doesn’t notice the leviathan dribble their way out of his core, grain by grain, leech through the white mass that’s really Castiel, the actual truth of him and not the body he just happens to wear. Where each one passes it leaves a little black trail, searching, probing, examining. They’re separate, harmless, for now.
But every time he uses his grace, the souls tethered to it, it gets a little hotter in there. All that power, all that grace burning at the centre of him. White energy, white heat, cut through with black marbling.
And what does sand do, when it gets really hot?
It melts.
Black sludge drips out of one ear.
The next thing he knows, he’s standing in a room full of dead politicians.
And I tag @hedderstheowl, @sadbenny, @burningwicker, and everyone else who follows me who writes (esp if we’re mutuals and I’ve forgotten to tag u bc I’m a BAD FRIEND) make sure you tag me though ‘cause I wanna see ;D
Dorothy knows they’re probably the ugliest shorts in the entire park today, but it’s hot as blazes and she didn’t know they were out of fashion. Showing knees was about as risque as any woman would ever dare, even those who weren’t regarded as ‘classy’ or ‘appropriate.’ She’s still shocked at the challenge between sexualization and feminism. The two can never seem to balance out, but she still likes the shorts. They’re faded just light of dark blue and go from her navel all the way down to the tops of her knees, while still hugging her ass too much in back and hanging loose at the knees with light blue rolled up edges and a big brass button, but it can’t be seen under bright red tank top.
It might be all wrong for Memorial Day. She remembers making a point of putting on a white dress and stockings with white heels, everything matching with her hair styled up and even light make up. This is better, more real. This is living past the lives of lost people and ignoring the tombstones so many people are desperate to scrub clean and cover with flowers only once a year. The dead are not in their graves. They reside in Heaven or Hell or elsewhere, but not lying in the cold, dead earth where mourners stare at stones. They’ll be heard elsewhere just as easily if they’re to be heard. Respect is good, but love is better when it concerns the dead. She already said her quiet prayers for her father, her mother, aunt, uncle, and the three men who followed her through Oz and died trying to bring her home. She added countless Men of Letters who are now long dead and hopes as many were able died of long lives with many children, but she knows that isn’t quite the case. Now, though, for the dead and for herself, she lives. Lays out in the sun and lets it smile upon her face. She’s less pale now and she knows she smiles more.
Red is certainly to blame. Her absolutely amazing girlfriend, Charlie Bradbury had amazing foresight with this outing, a park full of happy, alive children at play and their familes watching close. She slips her fingers through the other woman’s as they soak up the sun. The wolves all left their Riding Hood for other amusement. She’s to understand Dean and Cas are participating in a barbeque with Dean’s youngest brother Adam Milligan. She hasn’t met him or any of the other’s from Tri-Cities yet and she kind of likes that. Moira and Tad are intimidating and instructive enough. She cares for them, but a day without them or their tutorage has been a boon. Sam is entertaining his girlfriend Sage and it’s probably equally wholesome, but far more private.
Charlie leans in close and soon she has the red-head curled in her arms. It’s amazing and warm. She falls asleep, too, and doesn’t wake up until she hears the shrieks of others and the torrent of warm summer rain. Charlie huffs, looking adorably miserable with her wild hair flat against her scalp and her own tank top clinging to her chest. Dorothy can’t help but giggle. The white tank top does nothing to hide the thin white bra under it and, even if it isn’t cold, her girlfriend’s nipples. She latches on to Charlie’s lips, kissing her hard and shifting to grab her girlfriend’s ass. The happy couples and the children have run for cover and she no longer has worry about offending, even if Charlie never worries. She grinds up against Charlie and they both buck and moan. It’s fantastic. They’ve made out before, but never this intensely. Charlie’s sense of right should be damned, Dorothy half swears. No sex until Dorothy has figured out her own arousal and has a firmer grasp on her sexuality. Charlie’s her first despite being well over a hundred, even if you disregard her time locked away with the witch. Time is different in Oz.
They pant and gasp, grasping at wet clothing. It’s definitely intense and overstimulating. They finally pull back, high on endorphins and Dorothy would swear oxytocin. “You know.. I hate you being my girlfriend,” she mutters into Charlie’s neck, clinging to the hacker. “But I think getting married to have sex is the stupidest patriarchal piece of bullshit ever decided by idiots bent on molding women to their will... “
Charlie huffs before a loud of burst of laughter peels from her pretty lips. “Worst attempt ever!” she exclaims.
“What, you think marriage in general is patriarchal? You’re probably right, but I’m still hung up on the idea of committing one’s self and saying to the whole world, ‘I love them!’ I think to undermine how much the people you love matter is amazingly selfish or ignorant depending on a case by case basis,” Dorothy quickly counters. They’d talked about this, in different fashions before. Learning how times have changed has been slow, but rewarding.
“Yes, but I adore picking at a broken system until it’s right?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Keep hacking the code until you’ve changed it into what you want.”
1. Modern World Collides with Fantasy ala Something Similar to Fringe Alternate Worlds Theory.
a. Progress – Overarching timeline, some notes, well defined characters, great start to the intro, mythos coming along nicely
b. Next Steps – Villains, review setting, decide on fictional place in MD verses real town
2. Modern Fantasy/Southern Gothic
a. Progress: Strong intro draft, strong characters, need to flush out the sisters, add more male characters, good, well defined settings
b. Next steps: Villains, timeline, better defined mythos
3. Vampiric Bureaucracy
a. Progress: Great characterization, good support structure, great methods to share information with readers, strong mythos, good intro
b. Next Steps: Villains (this seems to be a reoccurring theme with me), timeline, map the brownstone, introduce the “Brutes”, don’t let pretty werewolf boys take over the spot light!
Fan Works:
Long Fan Works:
1. Wolves Wings and Wrenches - Supernatural/Mercy Thompson Crossover
a. Progress: Seven seasons sorted through, rough combined timeline, good ideas on how to relay combined mythos, strong plot elements, excellent excerpts finished, possible artwork!
b. Needs: A finished first chapter from Dean’s perspective! Tried to write Sam’s three times, but the episodes initial action followed him in the Pilot and since we’re reviewing the same events, Dean reveals a lot more than Sam.
2. Supernatural Tattoo Artist AU for Relucant – Evolved into ridiculous backstory and feels!
a. Progress: Alternate history explored, some tattoos decided, decided on new mechanism to start action with
b. Need: More tattoos, more definitive ideas on where to place what, maybe use rough sketches? (so much easier if I could draw)
3. Supernatural Bookstore AU – Sam and Dean hired to work in the same bookstore by hoarder brothers Castile and Gabriel
a. Progress: rough timeline, understanding of how their business operates (who they buy from, sell to, and services the needs), ideas of major challenges
b. Needs: To not be in the way of anything else I’d write
4. An Angel in Love – Supernatural Season 9 AU w/ the return of Gabriel
a. Progress: solid ideas for how and why the angels fell/how to fix it, clear idea of mythos, solid understanding of conflicts and interactions
b. Needs: Something besides being run on desires to make Sam Winchester happy?
Short Works:
1. Anna/Charles Christmas Fic – Anna lays down the feminist smack down
a. Progress: Clear conflict, clear characters, clear plans
b. Needs: Balance feminine strength against white privilege and try to avoid ableism while addressing disabilities and challenges of a strong WoC (Wow I’m over my head)
2. Whatever Alyssia Decides I Owe Her For Not Writing a Christmas Fic
a. Progress: I can bug Alyssia and blame her if she doesn’t clarify a request
b. Needs: a request
3. Mercy/Adam Date – Mercy Thompson Series
a. Progress: Jesse is amazing, so is Gabriel, majority typed up
b. Need: Rectify awkward writing, review draft and finish with stronger wrap up
4. Asil/Anna ficlet for all the people I love that hate what I’m doing with them in Wolves, Wings, and Wrenches
5. Stefan Ficlet for Mercy Thompson fanfiction blog request (offered to help owner with a piece since she has as much trouble writing Stefan as I do, how stupid can I BE!?!?)
6. Probably a lot of other things, but I’ll have to read through a back log of messages to get to them.
