You know what would have been awesome though? Was if they made Tessa the rogue reaper they had for Taxi Driver rather than some random person. And she’d do all these back alley things, taking souls from hell to purgatory or whatever, not for some back handed favors but because she’d learn enough from Dean Winchester that though you can’t change death, you can make it a little bit more justified by placing the souls to where they deserve to be.
And when Crowley comes and he tries to gank her n O P E how about we throw Death in there because mmmmmm hmmmmmm no way ur messin with mah fave reaper (sorry this is my eternal head canon for Tessa and Death ; u ;)
Give me an AU where Dean (as usual) is being all affectionate on the impala calling her ‘baby’ all the time and then one day the impala humanizes and hot damn sweet baby jesus it’s Cas
and he just goes
Hello, Dean
One man said having an angel inhabit your bones is like being chained to a comet.
An archangel—is like having entire constellations go supernova beneath your skin.
* * *
Sometimes they’re as still as dead, acid infested bodies of water.
But most of the time, they’re raging, unsurmountable seas.
Some times Adam doesn’t feel anything.
Most of the time the pain itself is debilitating enough that it turns numbing instead.
Sometimes, he asks himself why his story is even included in this book of angels and demons and apocalyptic shit.
Most of the times he remembers it’s for a reason worth everything. (She’s in heaven, right? He kept his word, right?)
One time, he sees a spectacle of electric blue light sweep into the cage, taking one body. (He notices something important is left behind.)
Other times, there is just nothing but fire and ice and stormy condensations of palpable grace ripping through the core of him and meeting with another in a clash that could rival The Big Bang. (Brothers aren’t supposed to fight like this.)
Another time, it’s an encompassing shadow, looming like an aged god, older and wiser and eons more in existence compared to anything else—and he’s reaching into the cage.
(It’s my turn, right? Please. Please—)
It isn’t. (The important thing left behind is what it takes. It’s not him. Never him.)
Adam almost laughs, so bitterly, that Michael and Lucifer almost stops. (I was going to be a doctor once.)
Should I cry at the fact that Cas and Benny will never see each other again
That Cas probably still doesn’t know that Benny’s gone
That he hasn’t been given the opportunity yet to thank him for protecting Dean in Purgatory by being as close to him as possible because the only way Cas can was by being just as far away
Should I just cry at the fact that Cas will never have the opportunity to say You are not as bad as I thought you were.
And Benny will never have the opportunity to say back, chuckling: You too, you crazy aunt. You too.
AHA H A H AA yes I should
When he steps into the convenience store, a small bell jingles overhead. The air is cooler than the slight humid breeze outside. The cashier’s eyes flickers to him three seconds precisely, then returns to his comic book. The floor has 1,002 tiles, there’s the beginnings of a termite infestation within the beam of the neighboring antique store, and all five people in this store, incidentally, are distant descendants of Genghis Khan—
Castiel stops himself, determined. No. You’re here for one thing.
He focuses his attention to the back of the store where the refrigerators are. He walks to it and gathers what he could. He looks through the aisles, periodically picking through items with as much scrutiny as he could possibly use. He needs the right things. There are differences in brands. There are cons to two-ply tissue as there are pros. It can’t just be some willy nilly choice. The Ten Commandments weren’t conceived and carved into stone through the process of eenie meenie my nee mo. (He knows because he was watching by the sidelines during the entire burning bush thing.)
“I would like these, please.” Cas says firmly, rigid looking, as always. He tries for a smile and by the way the teenager manning the register flinches, he might need a little bit of work on that. He hardly ever smiles, and if he does, it’s always with Dean and Sam, not with strangers with unusual hobbies and—Cas squints at the register boy—crushes with girls named La Quisha.
He pays with a credit card he silently lifts from Dean, takes the bag of groceries in one hand and the beer case in an another.
When he arrives at the motel, he sets the bag onto the bed and the beer down the table. He takes a seat, slipping two bottles off the carton case and placing it on the table by the two empty seats.
I got the food.
Cas looks up, almost seeing Sam barrel through the door with a shoulder, hands filled with bags.
You got my pie?
Sigh. Yeah I got your pie.
Cas almost hears the chairs screech against the linoleum of the floor, almost feels the slight shake of the table as Dean seats himself down by his left.
Awesome. Cas, eat.
And even if he has no need for eating, he would. If they are really here, he would.
Except Dean and Sam aren’t really here.
Except they’re precisely 1,451.19 miles away from where he is.
Except Cas is still on the road.
Except he’s left his only home.
(At the convenience store, he picks Sam’s choice of newspaper. Dean’s go-to midnight snack. Sam’s favorite shampoo. Dean’s favorite beer.)
And he’s trying so hard to recreate what he has left behind.
Cas takes a bottle and twists the crown effortlessly. He downs one as fast he could open it. The taste is bitter—just like the aching twinge that eats at his borrowed heart.
I want to go home.
* * *
Come back home.
1,451.19 miles away, someone prays.
I’m beginning to think Dean in uniform is some sort of placating bribe for us
Fandom: Hey that episode has a lot of plot holes and dying, why—
Writers: DEAN IN UNIFORM
Fandom: .. *strangled sob* u little shits
I AM GONNA HIGH JUMP OFF A CLIFF
BECAUSE IF THIS IS WHAT SOULS LOOK LIKE IN HELL
.
.
.
.
.
WHAT WILL BOBBY LOOK LIKE?
—Don’t fear me,
—Don’t fear me.
—I need you
—to have faith in me.
I am blissfully unaware of everything (◡‿◡✿)
