Fanfiction Rec-List: Supernatural (Dean/Castiel) Part One
If a FF (all here with a focus on Dean/Castiel, either bromance or slash) caught your interest and you follow the link, please heed the warnings/ratings to be found at the archive/authors site.
Part Two
Part Three
1. Comfort to the Enemy by REB Jenn (FF.net)
Excerpt:
In a blink, Castiel is high above the Earth, plucked up so fast he is still attached to his vessel. He twists in the cataclysmic rush of wind, human and angel selves locked together, gripped at shoulderblades and wings' base by an implacable archangel hand.
A beat later they are far north of the dwelling of the Prophet, and, Castiel reflects grimly, far from Maryland as well. To buy Dean more time, he struggles in the archangel's grasp, throwing himself side to side with enough force that the powerful wings miss a beat. He reaches up and claws at the massive wrist, ignoring the resulting wrench in the roots of his wings.
The archangel banks, giving his captive a sharp shake. The shockwave whipcracks down Castiel's body, tearing loose his hands and snapping his head forward and back. A red-hot brand rips through his upper back.
He twists again anyway, reaching up to once more wring at the wrist while thrashing his lower body violently.
The archangel's hold falters. Feathers rake through gigantic fingers; Castiel feels shafts crush and bones snap as he slips free. Before he slips too far, an impact explodes against the side of his head.
He has been swatted like a bothersome insect.
He is falling. Not Falling, just… plummeting. Towards the ground. He is half in and half out of his vessel, mind ringing in a skull that may not still be attached.
Note: An intriguing plot, with well-placed H/C and both Dean and Castiel are IC and have wonderful bromance moments. After all these years, still my favorite! Has a sequel called "The Devil You Know"
2. My Eyes Are An Ocean by entanglednow (AO3)
Excerpt:
Of course, Dean's doing his best to fuck with their uncomfortable hero worship by existing as much as humanly possible. Sometimes he does it by accidentally walking into them. Which is kind of funny. But he's only done that on purpose a couple of times. And only to Sam. He'd tried with Castiel, only the angel has an annoying ability to never, ever be in the way, which considering his personal space issues before is strangely irritating. It leads to Dean pretty much having to flail an arm in his general direction if he wants to actually grab hold of him. Cas always ends up a lot closer then.
It's almost like they're playing some sort of game. If Dean wants to walk into Cas he has to work at it.
He opens the door and it's just as dark outside it. Which shouldn't be surprising at all, but there's still that little voice in the back of his head that expects him to walk out of a pitch dark room into the light. Yeah, it never happens but his brain is still catching up.
He's fairly sure there's nothing on the way to the stairs. At least not any more.
He'd never realised before how much Bobby's house was a maze of things stacks of books, magazines, boxes. Because at first Dean had been smacking into them all the damn time. Feet, knees, hands, elbows, he hadn't realised how much space he took up until he was forced to blunder around without looking where he was going. Literally.
3. If I was body by olympia_m
Excerpt:
There are many things Castiel does not understand about humans. He is learning, but obviously not fast enough. For there they are, in a jungle-themed motel room, and Dean's emotions are a mess he cannot - will not - untangle: from the shocked gasp of his sudden awakening, to the relief that's it just Castiel, only Castiel, no threat, to the quick once-over and the equally fast looking-away, and finally the annoyance as he sits up.
"You do get a freak on watching me sleep, don't you?" He looks at the other bed, untouched, unslept, and his annoyance is not there anymore, just a sort of resigned weariness. "What is it now?"
Dean's emotions fly and burn and change and he is always amazed at how swiftly it all happens. But, at the same time, the more he watches Dean, the more time slows down for him. The little pool of sweat on the crook of Dean's shoulder ripples, and the fluttering of Dean's eyelashes send winds across Dean's face.
4. Fire on Both Sides by Laura of Maychoria (FF.net)
Excerpt:
Dean knotted his arms over his chest, hard and close, doing his best to deny the tightness in his throat. "Your buddy, Uriel. Said he would turn Sam to dust the minute he stopped being useful. That's one fucking awesome ally, there."
Castiel was still and silent for a moment that seemed to stretch into infinity. Dean watched his face, saw little flexes and tics, and, damn it, damn it, damn it all, he was beginning to be familiar with the unique mannerisms and body language of a freaking angel. He could see the hesitation, the deep considering, and then the plunge of decision, like that day at the park, when Dean learned far more than he had ever dreamed of knowing. It was terrifying, and he pulled his arms a little tighter around his chest.
The angel stood and walked around the bed, though it seemed that his feet made no sound on the floor. He stood in front of Dean for a moment, looking down on him, and then knelt, putting Dean's head higher than his own. Somehow, Castiel made kneeling seem like standing on a mountain peak, surveying the entire world in a glance. Or maybe that was just the entirety of Dean himself, encompassed in those deep eyes.
"Don't be afraid, Dean," he said.
5. The Hieroglyphs of Angels by destina
Excerpt:
"The human mind is not built to store and process transformation. Passing from one stage of being to another is...traumatic."
"So I've heard," Dean said dryly.
"Very well." Castiel squared his shoulders. "I did not lead the assault. Uriel took charge of the legion; I remained at his side, the prime position to carry out my specific orders. We laid siege to the vastness of Hell for more than a year, until finally we reached you." In a tone of infinite sadness, Cas added, "Many of my brothers fell."
"I'm sorry," Dean said awkwardly.
"I'm not." Castiel turned his face away, avoiding Dean's startled glance. "I didn't know you then. If I had known, I would have fought all the harder to reach you sooner."
"Wouldn't have made any difference," Dean said. Familiar bitterness welled in him. "I was ten years gone by that point."
"It would have made a difference to me." Dean recognized the tone; it was the same fierce intensity with which Castiel had once threatened to throw him back in the pit.
6. Reaching as I Fall by apokteino (AO3)
Excerpt:
He’s the one, Castiel realizes. He lurches forward and grabs the fallen angel’s wrist, and unexpectedly, a surge of power courses through the both of them. Castiel doesn’t know what it is, but there’s no time, and he cannot take the entire family to a safehouse.
“Think of a safe place,” Castiel says to him, voice hoarse, coughing. They cannot stay here long. She’ll be back.
“What?” the young man says. But he does think: Castiel sees it, dimly. He tightens his grip on the young man, and grabbing hold with his grace of the other two as well, he takes flight. It lasts not even a second, instantaneous to human perception, and they are there, somewhere else. Castiel falls back against a wood floor, sees high ceilings. He hears the father muttering a surprised curse at the change of location, and sees the young man enter his vision again as he blearily raises his head.
He watches the young man, green eyes wide with a mix of terror and determination, as he tries to get out of Castiel’s grip. “What’s your name?” Castiel asks, still holding on.
He blinks. “I, uh. Dean.”
“Dean,” Castiel murmurs, and his head falls back again. He lets go. He sees someone approaching, dressed in black with a white collar. A church. He’s in a church. How ironic. A safe place, indeed.
Then he passes out.
7. Hell by JEBS (FF.net)
Excerpt:
Castiel blinked, taken aback, he had seen tears a plenty in this place of the damned but not this, not a tear shed out of pity for another. The Angel crouched down to get a better look at this strange little creature and instantly doubted what he had just seen. The imps eyes were once more dull and lifeless, it's body still as it patiently waited for its masters next command.
It did not take long for the command to come, the Demon had become bored with its latest project. It reformed its victim a dismissive flip of its wrist and called in a low level demon to drag off the quivering carcass, before leaving itself without sparing its pet a second thought.
The way was now clear for Castiel to leave but he no-longer had any interest in doing so, he stayed crouched against the wall, observing.
The Demons pet was little more than a walking skeleton, pale skin pulled to tight over a boney frame, its body decorated with signs of old and new abuse. It went about its task of cleaning the chamber with careful precision, the knives looking far to comfortable in its hands for Castiels liking. He was more than a little ready to give up on this pointless task, unable to find any redeeming quality in this vile little imp, but duty stopped him. He must leave no stone unturned in the pursuit of his task and this little creature was the closest thing to a stone he had so far come across.
8. No Stranger In Your Dreams by parenthetical (AO3)
Excerpt:
It was an unexpected surprise to find that Dean's soul was not in his body, but instead standing on a sidewalk, talking to the spirit of a young girl. Castiel took in the scene. Even as he watched, the girl's spirit closed her eyes and dissolved into light, a Reaper flickering past and then gone again.
Dean looked up and right at him. "Cas. What're you doing here?"
Castiel tilted his head, looking at Dean's soul. "I believe I should be asking you that." It appeared unharmed, other than the old wounds and scars from Hell and the life he'd led. "Why are you here?"
Dean shrugged with apparent nonchalance. "You tell me. One minute I was sleeping, the next I was here."
Castiel considered. "Your psychic -"
"Her name was Pamela," Dean said sharply.
Castiel paused. "Pamela," he corrected himself, "built a very powerful bridge to take you beyond the veil. Perhaps it is still latent. You said you were sleeping before you found yourself here. Tell me, were you dreaming?"
Dean's gaze flickered away before he met Castiel's eyes with something like defiance. "Sure. Puppy dogs and candy canes."
It was clear Dean didn't expect him to believe it, so Castiel felt no guilt in listening to his thoughts to learn the truth. The reality was not surprising: Castiel had been aware that Dean dreamed regularly about his time in Hell. He had not fully realized how vivid the dreams were, however, or distressing.
9. The syntax of things by dotfic (AO3)
Excerpt:
"The archangels landed on my fucking house, or that's what it felt like" Chuck said, following them. "Castiel cut his arm open, traced some symbols on my kitchen floor, grabbed me, and next thing I know, I'm standing in the middle of a cornfield in Iowa. Nearly tossed my cookies. What a ride. He told me he had to keep the archangels' attention on him." Chuck added, voice shaky. "And he needed me to do it."
Dean lowered Castiel to the couch. His head slumped to the side against the back cushion, and his body still felt boneless beneath Dean's hands. Dean let go, staying in a crouch as he rubbed his knuckles against his chin.
"The archangels thought you were being threatened," said Sam.
"Yeah, Castiel's not exactly a favorite with the angel establishment right now." Dean watched the way Castiel's chest rose and fell with each breath. "He's on heaven's Ten Most Wanted List, and you're a prophet."
"I get it," said Chuck, and dropped into a chair like his legs had given out. "Okay, so we have to steal a car, because he says he can't just fly me everywhere, and we leave my place pretty damn fast, and meanwhile these fucking archangels keep following us around. Every few days Castiel lets them catch up right before he banishes them. Keeps them jerking on a string for days." Chuck sat back and rubbed his hands over his face. "Archangels are kind of one-trick ponies, did you know that? I didn't know that. They're not too bright. Can I get a drink? Anyway, Castiel starts getting tired and I ask him why not stop, and he says he can't. Yesterday, Castiel goes bye-bye and then the other personality, the owner of the body--Jimmy--he's in the car next to me, all confused, wants to know where he is, who the hell I am...then he passes out, and Castiel's back, but really weak, he can barely move. I really, really need a drink. An angel with MPD, shit."
Dean pushed up Castiel's sleeve. Two long, thin wounds crossed his arm, half-healed. He checked the other arm, same thing.
Note: This is the first part of the 'syntaxverse'.
10. A geometry for spirits by aesc
Excerpt:
"I can't fucking believe this, Cas. Why now?"
Now is today, in a motel room decorated with pictures of a man called Elvis Presley. Until Castiel's appearance, Dean had been sprawled on the cheap mattress, searching for a sleep no amount of exhaustion will let him find. Now, he's backed almost into the corner, glowering.
"When I said I would give anything to keep you from facing Alastair," Castiel says, "I meant it."
"Then why didn't you?" Dean eyes him, all roiling hostility and suspicion.
Castiel keeps silent. The logical reply Because nothing I could give would have gained us anything fades before the knowledge that, even if he'd fallen, or given himself to Alastair, they would have learned nothing. And more than that, more than logic, he thinks Dean has never had much experience with others sacrificing for him. Probably, Castiel thinks, Dean wouldn't have taken it in the spirit with which it was intended.
"So," Dean says. He shifts from one foot to another, arms still crossed, a restless near-stillness in him that draws all Castiel's attention. "Why the hell are you here?"
"Amends." Dean looks at him. "A gift, if you will." That earns more puzzlement, and uncertainty. Castiel fights the desire to sigh, his body's natural response to what he is coming to recognize as impatience. Free will for an angel never meant contrariness.
Part Two
Part Two
Part Three
1. Comfort to the Enemy by REB Jenn (FF.net)
Excerpt:
In a blink, Castiel is high above the Earth, plucked up so fast he is still attached to his vessel. He twists in the cataclysmic rush of wind, human and angel selves locked together, gripped at shoulderblades and wings' base by an implacable archangel hand.
A beat later they are far north of the dwelling of the Prophet, and, Castiel reflects grimly, far from Maryland as well. To buy Dean more time, he struggles in the archangel's grasp, throwing himself side to side with enough force that the powerful wings miss a beat. He reaches up and claws at the massive wrist, ignoring the resulting wrench in the roots of his wings.
The archangel banks, giving his captive a sharp shake. The shockwave whipcracks down Castiel's body, tearing loose his hands and snapping his head forward and back. A red-hot brand rips through his upper back.
He twists again anyway, reaching up to once more wring at the wrist while thrashing his lower body violently.
The archangel's hold falters. Feathers rake through gigantic fingers; Castiel feels shafts crush and bones snap as he slips free. Before he slips too far, an impact explodes against the side of his head.
He has been swatted like a bothersome insect.
He is falling. Not Falling, just… plummeting. Towards the ground. He is half in and half out of his vessel, mind ringing in a skull that may not still be attached.
Note: An intriguing plot, with well-placed H/C and both Dean and Castiel are IC and have wonderful bromance moments. After all these years, still my favorite! Has a sequel called "The Devil You Know"
2. My Eyes Are An Ocean by entanglednow (AO3)
Excerpt:
Of course, Dean's doing his best to fuck with their uncomfortable hero worship by existing as much as humanly possible. Sometimes he does it by accidentally walking into them. Which is kind of funny. But he's only done that on purpose a couple of times. And only to Sam. He'd tried with Castiel, only the angel has an annoying ability to never, ever be in the way, which considering his personal space issues before is strangely irritating. It leads to Dean pretty much having to flail an arm in his general direction if he wants to actually grab hold of him. Cas always ends up a lot closer then.
It's almost like they're playing some sort of game. If Dean wants to walk into Cas he has to work at it.
He opens the door and it's just as dark outside it. Which shouldn't be surprising at all, but there's still that little voice in the back of his head that expects him to walk out of a pitch dark room into the light. Yeah, it never happens but his brain is still catching up.
He's fairly sure there's nothing on the way to the stairs. At least not any more.
He'd never realised before how much Bobby's house was a maze of things stacks of books, magazines, boxes. Because at first Dean had been smacking into them all the damn time. Feet, knees, hands, elbows, he hadn't realised how much space he took up until he was forced to blunder around without looking where he was going. Literally.
3. If I was body by olympia_m
Excerpt:
There are many things Castiel does not understand about humans. He is learning, but obviously not fast enough. For there they are, in a jungle-themed motel room, and Dean's emotions are a mess he cannot - will not - untangle: from the shocked gasp of his sudden awakening, to the relief that's it just Castiel, only Castiel, no threat, to the quick once-over and the equally fast looking-away, and finally the annoyance as he sits up.
"You do get a freak on watching me sleep, don't you?" He looks at the other bed, untouched, unslept, and his annoyance is not there anymore, just a sort of resigned weariness. "What is it now?"
Dean's emotions fly and burn and change and he is always amazed at how swiftly it all happens. But, at the same time, the more he watches Dean, the more time slows down for him. The little pool of sweat on the crook of Dean's shoulder ripples, and the fluttering of Dean's eyelashes send winds across Dean's face.
4. Fire on Both Sides by Laura of Maychoria (FF.net)
Excerpt:
Dean knotted his arms over his chest, hard and close, doing his best to deny the tightness in his throat. "Your buddy, Uriel. Said he would turn Sam to dust the minute he stopped being useful. That's one fucking awesome ally, there."
Castiel was still and silent for a moment that seemed to stretch into infinity. Dean watched his face, saw little flexes and tics, and, damn it, damn it, damn it all, he was beginning to be familiar with the unique mannerisms and body language of a freaking angel. He could see the hesitation, the deep considering, and then the plunge of decision, like that day at the park, when Dean learned far more than he had ever dreamed of knowing. It was terrifying, and he pulled his arms a little tighter around his chest.
The angel stood and walked around the bed, though it seemed that his feet made no sound on the floor. He stood in front of Dean for a moment, looking down on him, and then knelt, putting Dean's head higher than his own. Somehow, Castiel made kneeling seem like standing on a mountain peak, surveying the entire world in a glance. Or maybe that was just the entirety of Dean himself, encompassed in those deep eyes.
"Don't be afraid, Dean," he said.
5. The Hieroglyphs of Angels by destina
Excerpt:
"The human mind is not built to store and process transformation. Passing from one stage of being to another is...traumatic."
"So I've heard," Dean said dryly.
"Very well." Castiel squared his shoulders. "I did not lead the assault. Uriel took charge of the legion; I remained at his side, the prime position to carry out my specific orders. We laid siege to the vastness of Hell for more than a year, until finally we reached you." In a tone of infinite sadness, Cas added, "Many of my brothers fell."
"I'm sorry," Dean said awkwardly.
"I'm not." Castiel turned his face away, avoiding Dean's startled glance. "I didn't know you then. If I had known, I would have fought all the harder to reach you sooner."
"Wouldn't have made any difference," Dean said. Familiar bitterness welled in him. "I was ten years gone by that point."
"It would have made a difference to me." Dean recognized the tone; it was the same fierce intensity with which Castiel had once threatened to throw him back in the pit.
6. Reaching as I Fall by apokteino (AO3)
Excerpt:
He’s the one, Castiel realizes. He lurches forward and grabs the fallen angel’s wrist, and unexpectedly, a surge of power courses through the both of them. Castiel doesn’t know what it is, but there’s no time, and he cannot take the entire family to a safehouse.
“Think of a safe place,” Castiel says to him, voice hoarse, coughing. They cannot stay here long. She’ll be back.
“What?” the young man says. But he does think: Castiel sees it, dimly. He tightens his grip on the young man, and grabbing hold with his grace of the other two as well, he takes flight. It lasts not even a second, instantaneous to human perception, and they are there, somewhere else. Castiel falls back against a wood floor, sees high ceilings. He hears the father muttering a surprised curse at the change of location, and sees the young man enter his vision again as he blearily raises his head.
He watches the young man, green eyes wide with a mix of terror and determination, as he tries to get out of Castiel’s grip. “What’s your name?” Castiel asks, still holding on.
He blinks. “I, uh. Dean.”
“Dean,” Castiel murmurs, and his head falls back again. He lets go. He sees someone approaching, dressed in black with a white collar. A church. He’s in a church. How ironic. A safe place, indeed.
Then he passes out.
7. Hell by JEBS (FF.net)
Excerpt:
Castiel blinked, taken aback, he had seen tears a plenty in this place of the damned but not this, not a tear shed out of pity for another. The Angel crouched down to get a better look at this strange little creature and instantly doubted what he had just seen. The imps eyes were once more dull and lifeless, it's body still as it patiently waited for its masters next command.
It did not take long for the command to come, the Demon had become bored with its latest project. It reformed its victim a dismissive flip of its wrist and called in a low level demon to drag off the quivering carcass, before leaving itself without sparing its pet a second thought.
The way was now clear for Castiel to leave but he no-longer had any interest in doing so, he stayed crouched against the wall, observing.
The Demons pet was little more than a walking skeleton, pale skin pulled to tight over a boney frame, its body decorated with signs of old and new abuse. It went about its task of cleaning the chamber with careful precision, the knives looking far to comfortable in its hands for Castiels liking. He was more than a little ready to give up on this pointless task, unable to find any redeeming quality in this vile little imp, but duty stopped him. He must leave no stone unturned in the pursuit of his task and this little creature was the closest thing to a stone he had so far come across.
8. No Stranger In Your Dreams by parenthetical (AO3)
Excerpt:
It was an unexpected surprise to find that Dean's soul was not in his body, but instead standing on a sidewalk, talking to the spirit of a young girl. Castiel took in the scene. Even as he watched, the girl's spirit closed her eyes and dissolved into light, a Reaper flickering past and then gone again.
Dean looked up and right at him. "Cas. What're you doing here?"
Castiel tilted his head, looking at Dean's soul. "I believe I should be asking you that." It appeared unharmed, other than the old wounds and scars from Hell and the life he'd led. "Why are you here?"
Dean shrugged with apparent nonchalance. "You tell me. One minute I was sleeping, the next I was here."
Castiel considered. "Your psychic -"
"Her name was Pamela," Dean said sharply.
Castiel paused. "Pamela," he corrected himself, "built a very powerful bridge to take you beyond the veil. Perhaps it is still latent. You said you were sleeping before you found yourself here. Tell me, were you dreaming?"
Dean's gaze flickered away before he met Castiel's eyes with something like defiance. "Sure. Puppy dogs and candy canes."
It was clear Dean didn't expect him to believe it, so Castiel felt no guilt in listening to his thoughts to learn the truth. The reality was not surprising: Castiel had been aware that Dean dreamed regularly about his time in Hell. He had not fully realized how vivid the dreams were, however, or distressing.
9. The syntax of things by dotfic (AO3)
Excerpt:
"The archangels landed on my fucking house, or that's what it felt like" Chuck said, following them. "Castiel cut his arm open, traced some symbols on my kitchen floor, grabbed me, and next thing I know, I'm standing in the middle of a cornfield in Iowa. Nearly tossed my cookies. What a ride. He told me he had to keep the archangels' attention on him." Chuck added, voice shaky. "And he needed me to do it."
Dean lowered Castiel to the couch. His head slumped to the side against the back cushion, and his body still felt boneless beneath Dean's hands. Dean let go, staying in a crouch as he rubbed his knuckles against his chin.
"The archangels thought you were being threatened," said Sam.
"Yeah, Castiel's not exactly a favorite with the angel establishment right now." Dean watched the way Castiel's chest rose and fell with each breath. "He's on heaven's Ten Most Wanted List, and you're a prophet."
"I get it," said Chuck, and dropped into a chair like his legs had given out. "Okay, so we have to steal a car, because he says he can't just fly me everywhere, and we leave my place pretty damn fast, and meanwhile these fucking archangels keep following us around. Every few days Castiel lets them catch up right before he banishes them. Keeps them jerking on a string for days." Chuck sat back and rubbed his hands over his face. "Archangels are kind of one-trick ponies, did you know that? I didn't know that. They're not too bright. Can I get a drink? Anyway, Castiel starts getting tired and I ask him why not stop, and he says he can't. Yesterday, Castiel goes bye-bye and then the other personality, the owner of the body--Jimmy--he's in the car next to me, all confused, wants to know where he is, who the hell I am...then he passes out, and Castiel's back, but really weak, he can barely move. I really, really need a drink. An angel with MPD, shit."
Dean pushed up Castiel's sleeve. Two long, thin wounds crossed his arm, half-healed. He checked the other arm, same thing.
Note: This is the first part of the 'syntaxverse'.
10. A geometry for spirits by aesc
Excerpt:
"I can't fucking believe this, Cas. Why now?"
Now is today, in a motel room decorated with pictures of a man called Elvis Presley. Until Castiel's appearance, Dean had been sprawled on the cheap mattress, searching for a sleep no amount of exhaustion will let him find. Now, he's backed almost into the corner, glowering.
"When I said I would give anything to keep you from facing Alastair," Castiel says, "I meant it."
"Then why didn't you?" Dean eyes him, all roiling hostility and suspicion.
Castiel keeps silent. The logical reply Because nothing I could give would have gained us anything fades before the knowledge that, even if he'd fallen, or given himself to Alastair, they would have learned nothing. And more than that, more than logic, he thinks Dean has never had much experience with others sacrificing for him. Probably, Castiel thinks, Dean wouldn't have taken it in the spirit with which it was intended.
"So," Dean says. He shifts from one foot to another, arms still crossed, a restless near-stillness in him that draws all Castiel's attention. "Why the hell are you here?"
"Amends." Dean looks at him. "A gift, if you will." That earns more puzzlement, and uncertainty. Castiel fights the desire to sigh, his body's natural response to what he is coming to recognize as impatience. Free will for an angel never meant contrariness.
Part Two