family man
|| dean-centric 14×03 coda. please check AO3 link for additional tags!
You’re just like him.
In that moment, it had felt like nothing could be worse. But at
least the pain of those words was sharp and quick, and got him out of
his spiral. A punch that he couldn’t exactly roll with, as it cut to
deep for that, but the hits stopped coming after Michael hurt you. He hurt me too.
He did get punched in the face a couple times right after. But he deserved that anyway.
The
pain at home is different. More like being submerged all over again,
and every time he reaches the surface, spluttering and gasping, the next
wave comes, powerful and acidic.
Every time he gets order into
his kitchen, puts stuff back where it belongs so a spike of anxiety
doesn’t shoot through his chest when he reaches for the salt only to
find its space empty, someone goes and messes it up again. Because there
are so many people here now, people he doesn’t know. And they either don’t notice there’s order to the place or don’t care.
Dean’s not an authority figure to them, that’s Sam. No one listens when Dean tells them himself. And everything is so goddamn messy.
Dean cleans the counters, and then an hour later there’s crumbs again.
Rings of water where someone put down a glass that was too full.
And then some stuff is just gone.
Someone raided Dean’s stack of tiny marshmallows that he’d hid behind the canned peaches.
Dean checks his emergency food supplies, and they’ve either been moved or thrown away.
His favorite spatula has a distinct burn mark.
Other people are cooking in his kitchen now, making food that Sam eats, doing everything wrong, and Dean hates it.
Hello friend, no, don’t worry it’s not a problem, and thank you so much! ❤
He feels sad these days, he is mourning a loss, not of what was lived, but the loss of what could have been but never was, because they took her away too soon. She didn’t deserve what happened to her, she brought light to this sad world full of death and pain. but he always loses the ones close to him, doesn’t him?
He thinks about her everyday, about her long, soft brown hair, about her smile, her beautiful honest eyes, He thinks about those lips he regrets don’t having kissed when he had the chance. He tries really hard not to think about her laying in the morgue.
Sam had went to Stanford. The family business had been left far, far behind. When he had made the leap from East Coast to West Coast he had hoped it would stay that way. No death, no blood, no crime.
He was ready to be a boring lawyer with a boring family and die a boring death. Hopefully from an ailing organ or some kind of disease. Old people things.
Half these thoughts went out the window when Castiel wandered into his life, quite literally as he mistook his dorm room for his own in a drunken haze. He spoke nothing but broken, disoriented Russian before puking in the corner and passing out on his bed. It had been a terrifying experience, and Sam wouldn’t be able to speak honestly if he were asked if Cas hadn’t almost been greeted with a bullet to the head. It had still been early in his college career, and he had been easily startled due to paranoia of being dragged back to the family and made an example of.
Sam was a deserter. And the mob didn’t look down kindly on those who turn their backs on the family.
That had been two years ago. Cas had been highly apologetic upon waking up, offering to take him to breakfast and to clean up the mess he had made. He actually did a decent job for a guy that was still hungover enough to stagger into Sam more than a few times (though looking back, some of those had to be intentional. The mob would have even been impressed. Cleaning up a crime scene was half the battle, and there hadn’t been a fiber out of place when the exchange student had finished.
Breakfast had gone better than Sam could have ever expected. Cas was funny, smart, and had a mouth that just promised trouble. He never had thought he would be able to find someone to match his sass line for line. They talked about family, with Sam saying he had lived in New York for most of his life, and had only recently come to California. He didn’t have any family, and was ready to settle down in a new place. Cas had a similar background. He had come to Stanford as an international student, having nothing to tie him to his home country.
Meetings became a weekly thing, and very quickly a daily thing before Sam confessed to Cas he had liked the other, and dating followed shortly. It made him feel alive again, willing to take risks and be reckless with his hard earned freedom. It scared him a little. But not enough to stop.
Though now looking at his boyfriend, bound and gagged on his laptop screen, he wished they had. The camera quality was awful, but he knew it was him. Not even grainy footage could disguise the dark, ruffled hair or blue eyes that Sam had come to adore.
“We shouldn’t have gone to that baseball game. Ignored the kiss cam at least… oh god Cas..” Sam whimpered, wanting to do nothing more than to kiss the other until the look of fear had disappeared. He hoped Dean and John would be gentle. He would come back if they were-
an unfamiliar man crossed into the camera’s view, causing Cas to yell into his gag and jerk around in an attempt to escape. With how genuine the fear was in Cas’s eyes, he had to have known the other.
He tore his eyes away as he heard the punishment begin, pulling out his phone and entering Dean’s number. The screen became a bright blur as Cas’s muffled screams brought tears to his eyes.
The mob hated deserters. Sam never thought he could bring up that fear with Cas. In a dream world, he would have discovered that Cas was the one person that could have understood what Sam was feeling more than anybody. But it wasn’t. All he could hope that if he begged forgiveness that his family would be more merciful than Cas’s.
(I want to say sorry, but angst is my jam… so I’m sooo not)
NOOOOO!!!! Where’s the rest of this?!?! Oh god, Romeo and Juliet the mob! This is so awesome, I love it so much. NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR ANGST! My heart, just amazing. You got me so worried and tortured. Wow
Even that painfully young alternate universe Dean that had showed up out of nowhere clearly knew that it was a suicide mission.
Castiel could have told Dean that the fabled Colt, the gun that had taken so much blood to obtain, would never work against an Archangel inhabiting his True Vessel, even a fallen and disgraced Archangel such as Lucifer. Not with the strength and power of Sam Winchester’s once-beautiful, broken soul for Lucifer to tap into, never so much as to use it all up, a continually renewing wellspring of power that fed Lucifer’s Grace like a glacier run off might have once fed the sea.
There were no more glaciers. Hellfire had melted them all away during the first year, raising the sea levels and drowning huge populations of island or coastal people, forcing humanity further and further inland, herded like cattle for the Croats to feed upon and the demons to pick among the rest for hosts.
Castiel wondered sometimes if Lucifer did that just because he knew it would hurt Sam more. He always drowned such thoughts in opiates and cannabis smoke, strangling to purely psychological pain behind the wall of numbness and sexual pleasure that always paled in comparison to the memory of the once fleeting brush of Sam’s hand and the shy flicker of his eyes behind a curtain of hair. Graceless and cut off from Heaven as he was, abandoned by his brothers and emotionally left behind by his chosen General, his sober mind was still too sharp to forget, sharp enough to cut himself to pieces if he let it, so he didn’t. Ever. Let it.
He was forced to keep a certain level of sobriety before the mission. Dean wouldn’t allow anyone to go who wasn’t “firing on at least half-cyllanders” as he put it, and Younger Dean had looked so honestly frightened by Castiel’s drug use and sexual debauchery that the former angel just didn’t have the heart left in him to argue.
The angel once accused of having too much heart, now with barely enough heart to spare his only remaining might-have-been-family.
Abaddon was the one who caught him, dragging him away from the others despite his efforts to remain behind and protect the few humans still left alive. The Knight of Hell was more than a match for him as he was, red painted lips framing pristine white teeth in a mockery of a pleasant smile.
“You don’t die with them, little angel,” she cooed. “Big Brother wants a word before you meet your end, and I wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”
Five years since Castiel had seen Sam Winchester, and yet his face remained unchanged, a testimate to Lucifer’s presence inside his body even without the pristine white suit and the almost mocking edge to what might have been a fond smile curving his lips. Castiel’s bones ached in an all too human way from where he had hit the ground when Abaddon shoved him to his knees before his former elder brother who wore his might-have-been lover’s face, and his throat ached from dryness and the urge to retch or scream, but he did not dare look away.
“He’s still in here, you know,” Lucifer remarked with a casualness that was anything but truly casual. “Sam, I mean. I almost thought I might have to worry for my grip on him when I killed his brother, but the way that empty soul looked at us….”
“Dean no longer believed there was anything of his Sam left in you,” Castiel rasped, a minute flinch escaping him at the raggedness of his voice.
“But you know better, don’t you, Castiel,” Lucifer crooned, coming closer. “You know that only Sam could truly inspire such creative savagery in me–”
“No,” Castiel interrupted, and had the satisfaction of seeing Lucifer blink. He smiled, a wide and weary sort of grin that set his split lip bleeding again, and tilted his face up to look through Lucifer’s eyes and into Sam. “I knew that even your savagery could never completely destroy Sam’s kind heart and clever mind. Otherwise… Dean would still be alive.”
“What–” Lucifer started, his eyes narrowing, only to be interrupted once again by Castiel’s splintering laughter.
“It was a mercy,” he gasped, swaying with the force of his amusement, of the irony being shown. “Killing Dean now… that poor broken bastard is finally at peace! He’s free!” He slumped, as if by saying that, declaring that freedom, the strings that held him bound had likewise been severed. He clutched at the ragged, metaphorical ends, willing himself to hold on a little longer as Lucifer continued to stare at him.
“Explain,” the formerly brightest Archangel of Heaven demanded, low and hard, and Castiel could not help but laugh again.
“Explain what? Did you think I was still here because I want to live?” he demanded of Lucifer, rocking and shuffling forward on his knees, another burst of shattered giggles escaping him as Lucifer actually took a step back. “Oh, no, big brother… I only stuck around because I wanted to see Sam one last time. ‘Cause I knew you still had him.”
“And what did you hope to gain by seeing him?” Lucifer asked, his lilting tone too tense for true mockery. “Another chance to overthrow me? Another futile chance to avert what is already far too late to stop?”
“Another chance to tell him what I should have said the day I took his hand,” Castiel breathed, and saw the words strike home as Lucifer stilled. Just a little longer now… “Sam Winchester, the boy with the purest soul on Earth or in Heaven… I love you… and I am honored to have been allowed to know you.”
He let go at last, and the warehouse erupted in the light of Grace.
Oh my god. This is beautiful and terrible and haunting and Castiel is absolutely 100% right. Sam would have wanted Dean to die, so he could be at what passed for peace with him still separated from his brother.
Castiel had never felt guilt before until he broke the wall Death had put up in Sam’s head to keep the memories of the cage locked away.
He had hurt the man he had grown to love, the man he would die for. The man who had become his hero.
Sam had tried to hide it, hide how even now the memories affected him. Castiel couldn’t understand how Sam was still standing after all it had broken him.
He will never forget the day he found Sam curled up in a ball rocking back and forth clutching at his head begging Lucifer to stop in Enochian.
“Oh Sam.” Never had Castiel wished that he had the power to undo the damage he done. “Where are you father? Why can’t you return to at least heal him?” Castiel couldn’t understand why his father hadn’t even tried after all that Sam had done for humanity. He should have been allowed to be free from the suffering that Lucifer had done to Sam’s soul.
With the utter most care Castiel moved towards Sam.
“Samuel, I am here. I am not leaving you alone with him.” Castiel spoke to Sam in enochian.
Teary eyed Sam lifted his head to look at Castiel. “But you’re not real. This is another one of your tricks Lucifer. Using the face of the man I love to torment me.”
“I am here Sam.” Castiel sat down beside Sam and let his grace reach out and touch Sam’s soul.
A sob escaped Sam’s face he knew Castiel’s grace and he flung himself into Castiel’s arms.
Castiel let out a soft coo as he run his fingers through Sam’s hair. “I am here Sam and I am never letting you go. Do you hear me Lucifer, Sam is mine and you will never harm him again.”
—
And the angst was brought. This is f**king beautiful 💙
“Hey.” Dean’s voice cut through the dream I was having about falling off a balcony. When I opened my eyes, I found the sexy young man standing over me with a plate of waffles in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. “Hungry?”
Gabriel’s got enough to deal with, moving and raising his baby brother Cas. When Cas’s “imaginary” little friend Sammy shows up on their doorstep, though, things get complicated fast.
The flight was more like a tumble through the air. Castiel practically crashed in front of the entrance to the bunker.
But he didn’t pause to ponder on the scorching feel of the foreign grace somewhere inside Jimmy’s skin. He hurried into the bunker, flying, as soon as he passed the warded entrance.
He found him from the first try.
Slumped unconscious on the table, with alcohol-stained breath and still bloody face, Sam was oblivious to his entrance.
Castiel paused to stare at the human. At the human who manajed to condem and save the world once. And only one thought he never wants to associate with Sam Winchester came to his mind.
Broken.
Broken, fragile, human soul, that wept so loudly, that even Castiel’s fading grace resonated with it’s devastation, echoing with his own pain over the loss.
His hand found Sam’s forehead, and he bowed his head.
’s Tell me an angst drabble challenge!Ok, so yeah this one is sad, but that was kinda the whole point of this one, so yeah. Loss, heartache, all that…
Warnings: main
character death(s), grief, tears, pain, hunter’s funeral, implied suicide
Words: 488
The crisp leaves crunched under Sam’s feet as he carried the
body to the pyre, very gently setting it down on the ground beside him. He took
great care in building this one. It would be the last one he would ever build.
And the most important one, too. Everything had to be just right for this.
The sun was starting to set behind him, ending what had been
the hardest day of his life. He reached into his pocket as the wind blew
stronger, momentarily making him pause. He heard the fluttering of the leaves
and turned his head. He looked around, as if waiting for something – or someone.
But he was alone.
He knew the sound of the flutter of wings could now only be
a memory.
“Dammit Cas, why didn’t you just –“ Sam shook his head,
wiping his hand down his face, rubbing the tears from his eyes.
He pulled the amulet out of his pocket and put it around his
neck. He took a deep breath as he felt the weight of it against his chest. Sinking
to his knees in the dirt, and fingering the cloth wrapped around the body of
his brother, Sam raised his head to the sky, and screamed.
Karate, SPN Demonic Octopus Guardian 