btw this is just a really really great and lovely post-8.23 fic !!
- 2014 -
Coming up on the end, there’s a bleak sky that follows every man who goes on his own road to die. It stretches from horizon to horizon like the vapor trails of new ghosts—headless, heartless, homeless, bleeding away their regrets until they’re dry. After that there’s a sunset that drags the curtain down, burns the last restless hauntings out of the world, and brings on the night. Wind will rattle bones in the gutters.
In the last fifteen minutes of an awkward, silent drive, Cas turns to look at Dean. The bleak sky is following them too, and though he’s just a busted up angel, not a man, Cas still knows what road this is. But Dean, this Dean, five years younger than the days they’re living in, is only along for the ride.
Dean catches him looking and lets his head fall back against the seat. He looks exhausted. Cas sighs and gives him a grim, opiate smile.
It’s good that he’s high, he thinks. Words in this clumsy human language have always been a painful ordeal.
Cas says: “Dean,” to make sure his passenger is listening. Then he turns his eyes back to the road. It will be easier to say what he wants to if he’s watching where he’s going, seeing the place he’s about to end up.
Dean hums. His hand is open on the seat between them, fingernails scratching at the canvas.
Cas says: “It’s not that we—angels I mean, don’t—um. We have the same experience of loss and—Jesus fucking—,”He takes a breath and reminds himself that this isn’t technically a betrayal. And even if it is, nothing will come of it in this world. “It took me a long time to understand why you piss me off so much,” he says, and that seems to be true.
“What?” Dean’s hand almost lifts off the seat.
“No one ever explained to me that love was going to feel like a bad stomach surgery, Dean. I had no way of recognizing it. I thought I…every conversation with you was like an attack I couldn’t defend myself against.” He stops and giggles suddenly. He can’t help himself. But he doesn’t feel the hysteria; it’s just this altered body, winding down.”It still feels that way,” he admits through his laughter.
Dean’s hand retreats to his lap. He’s quiet. Cas clears his throat and the laughter leaves. He tries to finish the thought before it escapes him.
“When you see me—him again, he won’t know why looking you in the eye makes him feel burned and hopeless. He won’t—if you guys save the world somehow, if by some miracle you survive—he’ll fuck up. He’ll try to leave and he’ll come back and everything he does will be wrong. But he’ll think he’s doing right. He’ll think he’s helping, or proving himself…If you get the chance, tell him why it hurts. Tell him what it is.” There’s more to say but he’s lost it. Cas looks over and Dean is staring out the window. Oh well.
He lets it go.
The road curves with the surface of the earth. The bleak sky trails behind. There’s a phantom- itch across the front of Cas’ throat where his body is trying to remember something that hasn’t happened yet.
Cas hears the stutter in Dean’s throat five minutes later. The way he almost doesn’t say anything at all. Then:
“What if I can’t give him what he needs?”
Now that Cas wants to laugh he can’t. Instead he inhales through his mouth and squints against the sting in his eyes. Dean will never stop surprising him.
“He won’t expect you to,” he says kindly. He grips the steering wheel and follows the road and tries not to keep glancing over. He thinks the Percocet must be wearing off, the ache in his chest is like a broken drum.
- 2013 -
Coming up on the end, and the asshole drops by one last time. He brings pie with him, but he doesn’t draw attention to it. Just puts it down on the table and stands in the room with his eyes on Dean like he’s waiting for forgiveness or benediction or a fucking a musical number to begin.
The trials, and yeah Dean heard about that shit-show through the grapevine, have been taking their toll. Cas is pale and unsteady. His blue eyes look gray.
He clears his throat and says: “I just came to tell you—,”
Then he stops. And he doesn’t say anything at all. Dean is about to roll his eyes and tell him to fuck off when Cas sits down in a chair and puts his face in his hands.
“I don’t know,” he says miserably. “It always hurts with you.” Dean’s stomach turns over. Somewhere in his past he had a conversation about this.
Suddenly there they are driving down a long bleak road with ghosts in the smoke of their exhaust. Suddenly it’s the end already. And Dean is still stomping around in righteous anger like he’s the only sinner who made it out of hell.
Dean pulls up a chair. He sits in front of Cas so that they’re knee to knee and stares at the scars on his knuckles.
Sam is sleeping in his room; same place he’s been for two days. He looks like shit on a stick and Dean feels like a carbonized turd, Cas looks like an addict on the ass end of a bad bender and Dean wonders how many times they’ve ended up here? In how many worlds did God let them get this far?
He wants to look Cas in the eye and say It’s love, you goddamn jackass, but he can’t. So instead he reaches out and puts his palm on the side of the idiot’s face. He pulls Cas forward and leans out to meet him, and just before they’re too close he hesitates.
“Just so you know, this isn’t me forgiving you,” he whispers. “This is about something else.”
And then he kisses Cas. Just lays a big freaking gay-ass kiss right on that backstabbing motherfucker’s lips. And then he almost falls out of the chair when the asshole kisses him back.
It’s a little annoying, actually. It pisses Dean off, to know how much it wasn’t just Cas who wanted this. How it’s been screaming inside of Dean too.
Cas has his hands on Dean’s shoulder and on his neck, slipping around to the back of his head. He’s a pushy little bastard, barging forward with his tongue to make space for himself in Dean’s mouth, in his chest, in his heart. And then he’s pulling away, leaving Dean with no explanation and an empty space, the same way he always does.
But he’s still holding on.
“What’s the last trial, Cas?” Dean asks before he can remember he’s not supposed to give a shit. Cas shakes his head.
“Dean, I—”
“What’s the last trial.”
Now Cas lets go. His eyes don’t look gray at all, they look like fresh bruises. His mouth looks like he wants to laugh. His hands look like he wants to cry. They hover in front of Cas’ chest like a shield.
“I’ll come back if I can,” Cas says.
Dean swallows his bitter retorts.
“You always do.”
Castiel’s last thought before he is sent down to Earth, for what he knows is the last time, is Dean.
8x02 || 8x05 || 8x07 || 8x08 || 8x10 || 8x17 || 8x21 || 8x22 || Other summaries/picture stories here
Ahem… I just want to say something about the scene between Sam and Dean in 8x23, why there’s no need to abandon the ship because “Castiel will never be as important as Sam”, and also why it’s far from jealousy or even possessiveness that Sam was portraying.
Show Yahoo that we are OKAY with them buying Tumblr as long as they leave the current terms and conditions intact and the enforcement policy.
Aka, the site remains the EXACT same as it was before. Keep Tumblr the same Yahoo and we will stay.
Everyone is missing the biggest problem here.
Fuck the ads. Fuck the links. Fuck the email stuff.
Yahoo explicitly forbids pornography and sexually suggestive material on their websites and all affiliates.
That means no more porn on Tumblr.
A fan just asked Misha how he personally wants to see Cas develop in season 9. A fan yelled “Lose his virginity”, another fan said “go to the brothel”, some other fan said “Meg!”. Misha replied “Sleep with Meg? No. That’d be necrophilia. He can do better than that.” So a fan said “Dean!” to which Misha replied: “or yes, with Dean” Omfg
things that are less painful than the season grFUCKYOU finale
- bathing in acid
- inhaling chopped ghost peppers
- stepping on a lego
- falling down that stairs
- stabbing yourself in the face
- falling from heaven
you’re grounded
so is cas
