Sam watched his brother collapse at the floor after the younger hunter blasted Lucifer away, watched Dean’s eyes grow distant in grief for his best friend, who he thought was lost to him. Sam felt his heart break for the man in front of him. Castiel was his friend, sure, but to Dean he had always been something more, whether the other man wanted to admit that or not. He stood up from where he’d been thrown, looked around the room. Well, nothing was impossible in this shit-show that was the Winchester’s life, right? There was only one being, besides God himself, that Sam could think of might be able and willing to help them save Cas. He was most likely dead, but Sam had to hope against hope that life would give them a break just this once. So, taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes in silent prayer:
“Gabriel? I’m not sure you can hear me. Hell, I’m not even sure you’re alive. But we need your help if you are. Well, Cas needs your help, actually. I’ve told you about the whole Amara-deal already, so I’ll skip that, but Cas he… he got it into his head that Lucifer could beat her. I don’t know exactly what happened but somehow… Lucifer possessed Cas. Gabriel, Lucifer is in Cas’ body. Cas is still in there and he fought his way to the front to stop Lucifer from killing me, so I’m assuming he’s conscious. But we need to get the devil out of there and… well you’re the only one I could think of that cared enough about him and had the ability to help. Please Gabriel. If you’re out there, please help!”
Releasing his breath, Sam imagined his soul reaching out to Gabriel’s grace, pleading him to help them. Maybe he wanted to stay out of more of the Winchester’s messes, but this was his little brother, surely he’d come out of hiding to help him, to save him?
He waits for almost a full minute and is just about to sigh in defeat at yet another prayer gone unanswered, when 180 pounds of pissed off archangel lands behind him with a swish of wings.
Title: Owlet Author: Wingsandcoffee Artist: Kuwlshadow Rating: mature (ish) Length: 20383 Pairings: Dean/Cas, minor Michael/Athena Warnings: minor angst, whump!Castiel (a little)
Summary: When angels are taken to Re-Education, their memories are altered, which means they don’t remember making the mistakes that brought them there. So naturally, it made sense to Michael that Castiel kept rebelling because he never remembered the lessons he needed to learn. To keep the rebel angel from continuing his interference, Michael not only returns all of Castiel’s stolen memories but takes his Grace as well. Castiel always knew that when an angel’s Grace was ripped out it was quite painful. He didn’t know that he’d been taken to Re-Education more than that time some months previous. He didn’t expect the true memories that would rush back at him and he certainly didn’t expect to remember that he hadn’t always been a full angel. It just figured that the other half of him was something that Dean didn’t understand. Now that he was completely human Castiel felt completely useless and tells Dean as much. But Dean doesn’t give up on those he considers family and isn’t gonna toss Cas to the streets just because he’s human. In fact, maybe Cas being human was just what they both needed to stop ignoring the feelings they’d both been running from.
I’m sorry hun! Sounds like you definitely need some fluffy headcanons how about:
– Sam trying to butter Dean up for months into getting a dog, subtly dropping hints and getting nothing back from Dean. Dean one day walking into the bunker with a puppy and dropping her into Sam’s open arms.
– Dean and Donna being firm friends and defeating all the burly dude bro men who mocked Donna at the firing range when they win the championship together, even better when Dean goes up to claim his waiting congratulatory kiss from his boyfriend.
– Human Cas loving his yellow fluffy socks and gifting Sam a green pair for Christmas which he loves and wears all the time. Dean mocking them both until he finally caves and starts stealing Cas’ in the mornings when he’s up first, leading Cas to buy him his own pair of turquoise blue ones. All of them chilling watching netflix with pizza all with their colourful fluffy socks up on the table (ok now I am pining for fan art of this :p)
I would’t say it was inspired by but it can be augmented withthis song. Also, this has not been beta’d so there may be a tense switch or two.
Sam looked down at the faint scar in his palm and rubbed it absently. A million thoughts ran through his head while everyone slept soundly in their rooms. He hated having insomnia but sometimes the dreams would wake him or he just couldn’t get his mind to slow down enough to stay asleep. Tonight it was the nightmares.
He was deep enough in his head that he didn’t hear Gabriel pad into the library. The angel paused for a brief moment before sitting beside him, “Penny for your thoughts?”
“They aren’t worth that much,” Sam’s shoulders straightened, hands ducking below the table to hide them from Gabriel, “What about you? Feeling better?”
Gabriel pursed his lips for a moment, then popped them, “I have feeling back in the ol’ smackers. Another day and I should be able to play a trumpet again.”
Sam snorted, amused at the trumpet comment because he’d read the lore on Gabriel, including his horn. Now he had a mental image of the angel jamming with Charlie Parker. Then he briefly wondered if Gabriel’s horn wasn’t a horn but really an Oboe. In true insomnia fashion, Sam’s brain came up with the dirtiest joke he’d ever thought of in connection to ‘Gabriel’s Oboe’, “Long. Thin. And if you blow it long enough you’ll have a stroke,” he said outloud, then clapped his hand over his mouth when he realized what he’d done.
Gabriel stopped moving. Staring at Sam in disbelief and then breaking out in a deep belly laugh. “Oh, Sammy. Do I even want to know?”
Blushing fiercely, Sam avoided looking at Gabriel when he gave his answer, “I was thinking about you playing an oboe.”
“An Oboe?” Gabriel laughed, “I won’t go near a double reed. It’s like fellatiating a bamboo stick. Now I prefer a nice woodwind or brass.“
Now it was Sam’s turn to stare at the Archangel and then start to giggle.
Gabriel reached over and ran his fingers through the hair at Sam’s temples, noting a few stray gray hairs already showing through the chestnut, "You’re exhausted, Kiddo. Get some sleep.”
“Can’t,” Sam sighed, “I keep dreaming about… everything. And it’s better if I stay awake. That way he can’t come for me.”
“Who? Who’s going to get you?” Gabriel asked softly, not wanting to startle Sam or make him shut down. Something he’d noticed both Winchester’s doing when things got to serious in a conversation about their feelings.
“Dad,” Sam whispered hesitantly, “but not Dad. Lucifer wearing him and then we’re in the cage-” Sam’s voice choked off like someone had cut off the air and replaced it with a small sob. Taking a second to collect himself, he drags a fingernail over his scarred palm, "he’s torturing me… and Dad’s just smiling down, covered in my blood. Whispering terrible things the whole time. Not good enough. Weak….. abomination.“
Gabriel’s heart broke as he listened to every word this human said. He’d seen a glimpse into Sam’s soul and marveled at how bright it was even with the fissures of pain making it look like marble instead of glass. Blinking away the tears of shame for what his family had put this boy through, Gabriel wrapped his arms around the gentle giant, holding him close.
At first Sam struggled against the hug, but when he heard Gabriel shushing him and felt a hand stroking over his hair, he melted into it. Opening up in a way he would never do with Dean because his brother would probably brush it off or tell him to suck it up. Sam’s breathing became more ragged with every draw until he was weeping into Gabriel’s shoulder, clutching at the angel like he was the last life preserver on the Titanic.
Gabriel was patient. He’d raised young angels. Hide from his family for centuries and watched stars be born and die out, but nothing was harder to wait out than a man in this much pain. Even thought it was hard, he waited and offered what comfort he could. After a while Sam calmed down but didn’t bother to move from Gabriel’s arms. The human was so touch starved that Gabriel contemplated smacking the hell out of Dean in the morning for neglecting the sibling he swore to take care of.
Taking a deep breath, Gabriel whispered to him, "Come on, Sam. Let’s get you to bed. I’ll stay and tell you about my horn. Maybe if we’re lucky I can keep your monsters away and maybe you’ll scare a few of mine along the way.”
Summary: Sam Winchester, the Boy with the Angel Blood. So as it turns out, giving a human angel blood when they’re already not *entirely* human from lifelong demon blood in the system? A bigger deal than anyone ever thought.
Consider Sam and Dean, about 11 and 15, alone in a snowbound motel room. They’re both fighting pneumonia, although Dean thinks they’ve just got colds. Sam needs medicine (so does Dean but Sammy comes first). Imagine Dean, sick and running a fever, stealing a snow shovel and asking people if he can shovel for money.
#jennisthedevil
the best thing about this headcanon is it could actually be supported by canon. The week they were stranded in that motel after a snow storm. (spn 10×12)
Dean shoveling snow all day until his hands are numb and his legs hurt until he’s gotten 10 bucks so he can trudge across three foot snow drifts on the way to a supermarket to buy NyQuil and Kraft Dinner for Sam, all while he’s spiking a 102 fever.
Fucking kill me now you two. Kill me now.
And what if when he was getting the Kraft dinner in the soup aisle, he also saw a can of Campbell’s Tomato Rice soup? So, practically delirious, sweating through his stiff, frozen leather jacket, and so weak he’s shaking, he picks up the can of soup too.
But what if the ten bucks isn’t enough? It only covers the NyQuil and food? So he has to steal some cough drops and Vick’s. And he takes it back to the motel. By the time he makes it back, the snow drifts have increased tenfold and he’s soaking wet. He makes it to the door, but falls into the room. Sam, sick as a dog but still better than Dean is, stands up from bed and helps Dean get out of his clothes and into a pair of threadbare flannel pajama bottoms and one of their dad’s giant Jayhawks t-shirts.
What if Sam made the soup and the Kraft dinner? What if he gave Dean the soup, made Dean take a dose of NyQuil. He wouldn’t let Dean take care of him. Instead he took his own dose of medicine, created a steam room out of the bathroom with the Vicks and the shower to break up the phlegm in their lungs, and what if, by God, he took care of Dean for once?
“I’m alright, Sammy,” Dean wheezed. “Bullshit,” Sam wheezed right back. “Take this shit.” “Watch your language, bitch.” He took the little cup from Sam with shaking hands, knowing Sam was stubborn enough to not take himself if Dean didn’t. It tasted like battery acid going down, setting off another coughing fit that left Dean dizzy and breathless. “We need Dad!” Sam huffed, choking down a dose of the medicine as well. “Be ok. It’s just a cold,” Dean mumbled drowsily, already sliding back into unconsciousness. “Don’t you dare fall asleep. You need to eat first.” “No, Sammy, you eat. Need to sleep.” “Please, Dean,” Sam wheedled. “For me? I won’t eat unless you do.” “Aw, Sammy, don’t. You gotta eat.” “You too!” Groaning, Dean squirmed a bit until he was partially sitting up against the headboard. Dean knew embarrassment he’d never felt before, since his hands were shaking too bad to maneuver the soup into his mouth. Sam had to feed him. “You ate like half. One more bite and I’ll let you sleep.” “Promise me you’ll eat, S’mmy,” Dean whispered, too weak to keep his eyes open. “I will, I promise. Gonna call Bobby, too.” “‘K,” Dean muttered, sliding into the black. … He woke up in a hospital room with a tube blowing cool air into his nose, and Bobby sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair near the bed, snoring with his trucker’s hat pulled over his eyes. “You’re awake,” a small raspy voice said. Looking over, he found Sam in the bed next to his. “I’m getting discharged today, but the doc says they need to keep you for a few more days. It wasn’t a cold,” he said, crossing his arms imperiously across his chest. “It was pneumonia. We both had it, but you’re the one who almost died. You’ve been out of it for like four days. If I hadn’t called Bobby -” Sam shuddered. “I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean whispered. “No, boy, don’t you dare take the blame for this.” Bobby looked angrier than Dean had ever seen him. “This ain’t no one but your idjit father’s fault. Leaving you two alone with no money. Swear I’m gonna punch him next time he shows his ugly mug ‘round me. I told ‘em I was yer uncle, and Sam over there confirmed it. Soon as they see fit to let you go, takin’ you two up to Sioux Falls. Gonna be least a week before Sam’s fit, longer for you, Mr. Death’s Door.” “Ok,” Dean said meekly. Bobby, a man who didn’t show affection much, leaned over the bed and kissed the top of Dean’s head. “Scared me to death, boy.” “I’m sorry.” “Stop ‘pologizing. Gonna go get ya some pie, alright?” “Sounds good.” Bobby kissed Sam too, before heading out the door. The second he was gone, Sam yanked a blanket off his bed and curled up on Dean’s. “I took care of you for once,” he said, matter of factly, young face shining with pride. Dean squeezed his hand. “Sure did, kiddo.”
Karate, SPN Demonic Octopus Guardian 