burning wings of castiel


A/N: Another series….surprise….

Summary: Castiel has been ordered to kill an Nephilim, but can he bring himself to do it?

Warnings: death

Characters: Castiel x Child!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Impure Series Masterlist

Originally posted by moosamuel

Castiel glanced into the window of the aged wooden house he had been to several times in the past year, the living room being lightened up from the flashing television in front of the two humans sitting on the couch, enjoying a Friday night movie by themselves.

Unfurling his cramped wings, he shook off the sleet that had been collected in his feathers from the journey here. He began to move his feet but instantly froze as he felt something rub against the bottom of his leg. Looking down at his shoes, he saw the tiny Himalayan kitten that he had rescued a few months back. Castiel crouched down the slightest and pet the animal, listening to the joyful purrs vibrating through the small cat. 

He had nearly forgotten the reason he had flew all this way. Quickly standing up straighter, he disregarded the small animal that continued to follow him up the stairs. Raising a hand to the doorknob, he allowed some of his grace to get the better of him and threw the whole object off its hinges.

Both humans bolted upright, the man giving the woman a confused yet worried look. The woman on the other hand, instantly glared at Castiel with hatred. “Upstairs, now.” She ordered.

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Dean X Reader: With Castiel

Request: HAPPY MONDAY! May I request one where the angel!reader hurts her wings and Castiel comes and helps her? Nothing romantic, kinda like a brother/sister thing! Thanks!

Request: Request where the reader is Castiel’s little sister so she’s also an angel and she hurts a wing and Castiel forces her to sit down and let him heal her and maybe incorporate the Winchesters somehow and just yeah hehe ily k

Request: Heyy love, I was wondering. Could you do one were the reader is castiel’s little sister, and Sam and cas run out on a food run and dean is bored so he calls her to come hang out till they got back and he asks her about her wings? Very fluffy! Thank you love xx

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Author: zepppie

Word Count: 1073

Pairing: Castiel x Angel!Reader

Warnings: angst

A/N: Title (and fic) partially inspired by I See Fire by Ed Sheeran. I think it would be a good accompaniment to the story. This is my submission to @thing-you-do-with-that-thing‘s SPN Movie Night Challenge. My movie is Pompeii, and I chose to rewrite the ending scene to the events of the Season 8 finale. 

Originally posted by cierrasuee

Castiel can feel the panic rising like bile at the back of his throat. He grabs a passing angel, who is ignorantly calm, the complete opposite of his picture of fear and guilt knowing he is responsible for this. He set the wheels in motion.

“Where is she?” he demands of his sister, gripping her arms.

The angel knows about whom Castiel is talking. All of Heaven knows about your rebellion, about how you fought both Metatron and Naomi. It had put a rift between you and Castiel, but with everything that Metatron is doing now, it felt pointless to fight.

“She is imprisoned,” she answers. “Metatron was in Naomi’s office, and she stormed in and tried to kill him.”

“She was right to do so. We are all in danger. Naomi is dead, killed by Metatron’s hand. He is going to force us all out of Heaven. You need to find him and stop him. But if you can’t, then tell everyone to leave now. Better to go willingly than get kicked out.”

He waits for her to confirm that she understood before he hurries towards the cells. Minutes later, he hears her voice echoing, warning the rest of the angels of what’s to come. No doubt Metatron heard that too and would rush to finish the spell.

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"He was in love with you"

(Edited Version) Mini ficlet based off this post x

“He was in love with you.” Michael taunted as Castiel felt like his whole world shattered around him.

“He-he loves me?” Castiel couldn’t, no, didn’t believe it, but he knew lying to himself wouldn’t matter now, certainly not when Dean’s life was at stake.

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Even against the stark blackness of his room Castiel can still feel the nightmares creeping in. His chest is a cage, constricting and trapping his heart, squeezing the air from his lungs as he gasps, trying to gain control. In his unconsciousness; images- memories, fears, flash across his mind in technicolour high quality- painting a myriad of horrors, some sensational, some more truthful, more believable, across Castiel’s vulnerable mind.

Even while awake the dreams linger. Like paper cuts all over his skin.

Wings… burning.

Swallowing heavily, Castiel shakes off the thin, sweat slick blankets and cards a hand through his hair. His entire body feels tense, taught like a wire pulled too tight.

The Bunker is silent as he, leaves his room, stepping lightly down the hallway with bare feet. It’s unsettling the silence, having been accustomed to the incessant buzzing of his brethren for the better part of several billion years, it’s no surprise that to be suddenly cut off now leaves Castiel unsettled.

It’s to little surprise that Castiel finds himself outside Dean Winchesters bedroom. Of course, Castiel has many times made the trip to this particular section of the Bunker, though never quite for this.

It takes a moment- maybe two for Castiel to settle into a steely determination and wedge open the door which creaks on unoiled joints.

Dean’s room is black, quiet, and instantly familiar. If Castiel were to say- this particular room would be his favourite within the bunker (next only to the bathroom, there is just something divine about a larger, bubble bath) but maybe that has something to do with the room’s occupant.

Speaking of- Dean rises from his bed, body poised and tense at the sudden intrusion to his room just until he realizes exactly who it is that stepped through.

“Cas?” Dean asks, blinking blearily. He sits up more fully and rubs his eyes, though his body (blessedly) relaxes. “What’s wrong man?”

Something small, fond, fills Castiel’s chest, dulling his anxiety for a moment.

“I cannot sleep.” He answers, acknowledging the sudden unwillingness he can feel to divulge further as shame- embarrassment. Just another facet of being human that he needs to adjust to.

“Oh.” Dean says softly, quietly. Castiel’s breathe hitches as understanding flitters across Dean’s expression. The moment feels soft, fragile, like candy spun sugar caught in the air- and for a second Castiel contemplates backing out of the room.

All of that turns into something more solid, real when Dean shifts across in his bed, pulls down the covers and pats the mattress meaningfully. “C’mere.”

There is no question about it. Castiel settles into Dean’s bed with practiced ease- wondering why he’d ever slept in his own in the first place. There is a moment or two of silence, as the two become comfortable- Castiel with his back to Dean laying on his side, Dean also on his side, his front flush against Castiel’s back, nose buried into the soft, downy hairs at the base of Castiel’s neck. Dean’s arms are the last things to fall into place. One burying Castiel head, resting on a pillow, the other wrapping around Castiel’s waist, fingers splayed against his stomach.

It’s quiet, peaceful. Dean’s scent is strong here, making Castiel turn his face into his pillow and inhale deeply. It doesn’t take long however for Dean to speak, his fingers tracing absent, soft patterns into the flesh of Castiel’s tummy.

“I still get em sometimes, nightmares- memories I suppose, from the pit.” His voice is hoarse with sleep, his words mumbled and thick. “This good?” Dean asks then, squeezing Castiel around the waist gently.

An unwitting smile forces its way to Castiel’s lips. “Yes. Thank you Dean.”

Dean just squeezes him in reply, and slowly- gently his breaths settle as sleep overcomes him. Castiel, encircled in Dean’s arms goes lack. Dean is a warm heavy weight against him, grounding him- reminding him of everything that is good and whole about humanity- of everything that Castiel fell for. The nightmares still linger, they always do- they may for some time still, blurring with age and time, there’s no telling what’s to happen. Love isn’t a cure, not on its own. The love Castiel feels in Dean’s arms-in his bed is not some sort of cure to an illness. It is however, comfortable, safe, reassuring.

It’s nice to not feel alone. To know he is not alone.

And in the light of the bright sun the next morning, Castiel, encircled in Dean’s arms, can’t help but feel at least a little better for the first time since falling.

AN: Sorry you’re having a rough time with Nightmares Love, they really are the worst.  <3 xx

“Cas, I brought dinner.” The angel didn’t move from the bed, still sitting down with his back to the door. It was the only sign he moved. Every day, Dean sat him down with his face to the door. Every day, Dean came back to him facing away from him. It was as if he couldn’t bear to look at the door anymore, waiting forever. Maybe he just couldn’t look at Dean.

“I brought cobbler too for dessert.” Dean lifted the bag in the air, smiling at the angel’s back. “Bobby said his girlfriend next door made it for him. Some sort of peach or something. She’s tightlipped about her recipes.” Dean shrugged, looking towards his companion for any sort of response.

Cas didn’t move.

“You’re gonna waste away if you don’t chow down, Cas…” Dean was met by silence, though he was far from unused to it. “Don’t make me get the IV again. I know you hate it…even if you won’t tell me,” Dean trailed off uncertainly, looking towards the angel for some sort of response.

He got none.

Abandoning the food to the table, Dean stepped towards Castiel. He went to his knees, right in front of the angel. He looked up, eyes cast as if towards Heaven. He looked for any sign of recognition, any sign of cognizance, any sign of anything.

He got none.

“Cas, it’s been weeks.”

Dean knew he was losing it, talking to a man everyone said would never respond. But Cas was Cas and he’d always been there so how could Dean just give up on him? He couldn’t. Dean was just as catatonic as Cas, stuck on the thought that Cas would move again, that things would be okay. But things were going to hell outside and that was the only truth he had left.

“Come on, man,” Dean began, grabbing at Cas’s hand. It was cold and pliant, fingers settling between his easily. “You’ve gotta work with me. I’m trying everything here. I know, everything is different and nothing’s exactly okay, but it’s what we’ve got, so I need you to work with me.”

Dean stared into the angel’s eyes and saw nothing. “Come on, Cas! I know you’re in there! Please! I’m sorry that Michael and Lucifer are gone. I’m sorry that Gabriel is dead. I’m sorry that Raphael wants to start the apocalypse again. I can say I’m sorry a million times, but that isn’t gonna change a damn thing!” he shouted, regretting it because Cas didn’t move, but he seemed to curl in on himself ever so slightly.

“Damn it, Cas! I need you!” Dean shouted, rising into more of a crouch so he could look Cas in the eyes. No matter how blank, how lifeless, they were still the best chance he had at getting to the angel. “I am begging you, Cas. I am praying to you! Come back! Come back to me!”

Dean leaned forward abruptly, smashing his lips into Castiel’s. It was the only way he could make himself feel like Cas wasn’t gone and he wasn’t taking care of a corpse. He reached forward, putting a hand against Cas’s cheek, moving the other to that spot between his shoulder blades where his wings should have been. They’d burned away long ago.


Castiel kissed back.

submitted by bf!anon

Hiya, me again. This fic is dedicated to wordstrings, the lovely lovely person.
I’m not wild about this one, it has *shudder* plot. - bf!anon

Sam sat in the library, leafing through yet another tome from the men of letters. Tracking an angel was a tedious thing to study, even finding something on them was rare because of their aloof nature to humans, until a few years ago at least.

He was not angry at Castiel for healing him. He was rarely angry at the angel for anything really. As Castiel had said, he understood Sam, and of course, Sam understood him. The unwavering devotion. Always having the best intentions. Screwing up, regardless of those things. Faith, first in God, then in others. Complete dependence on the idiot that was Dean Winchester. Whether either of them liked it or not.

Sam could understand Castiel’s attachment to Dean, and he had more than a few suspicions on that score, but it was strange to realise that this was one of the only times he had been alone with the angel, the two of them, but no Dean. Though they had a lot in common, they didn’t often spend time together.

Maybe it was time to fix that.

“Uuuhh, Cas?” He asked hesitantly, sticking his head through the door of the living area in search of the angel.

Castiel was seated at one of the large tables, looking through a large tome, a cup of coffee on the table before him. “Hello Sam.”

“Hey.” He said, walking over, “Find anything?”

The angel shook his head, “Regretfully, no. Though the men of letters have much more information on angels than I would have expected.” He smiled ruefully, “I believed we were hidden from notice for many years.”

Sam smiled, “Well you can be proud that no one else knew about you until you came down when we met. Dean didn’t believe in angels.”

“Many people still do not.”

“Some do. Even though they’ve never seen one, or had any proof.”

Castiel looked up at Sam and smiled in his slightly goofy way. “You did.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, feeling oddly proud, “I did.” After a moment he coughed, “Anyway, there’s this church in town having mass tonight with a visiting choir from Germany. I was going to swing by, do you want to come?” God knew why he felt nervous asking, it wasn’t like he was asking the angel out on a date.That’s Dean’s job. He thought, and fought a snort.

Thankfully Castiel looked happy with the idea, and nodded, “I do enjoy the music in such places.”

“Good.” Sam sighed an internal sigh of relief. He knew that asking the angel to come to mass would be a touchy topic, but thankfully, as usual, Castiel took the best from the situation, “I was gonna head off in about half an hour.”

“I may finish this book first then.” He said, taking a sip of the coffee. It wasn’t the same as when he was human, but as it was mostly one ingredient it wasn’t too overwhelming.

“Okay,” Sam said, “I’m going to have a shower, not really a good look to show up at church covered in blood.”

Castiel smiled, “It’s your own blood, which must be better than usual.”

“No blood in church, isn’t that one of the ten commandments?” But he was joking, and for once Castiel picked up on it and glared. Sam laughed and walked away, “I’ll see you in a little while.” He called back.

Later, when they were walking, Sam felt compelled to ask, “Hey, how have you been anyway?” It had rained, but had let up for the moment. The pavement were dark, illuminated only by the yellow glow of the street lights, reflecting off the puddles of rain.

The angel cocked his head slightly, noting the mirrored question he had received form Dean, “Better. Becoming human was… difficult, but returning to being an angel was harder than I expected.”

Sam smiled a little, “You really like humans that much?” Stupid question, really, but to choose a human life…

“Why do you think I fell in the first place?”

The hunter shrugged. “Dean yelled at you until you did what he wanted?” He teased.

The angel grinned. “That was part of it.” He admitted, “Dean… spoke the words I was already thinking. He has always been good at that.” Sam smirked, half-hoping Castiel might confess his feelings for his brother. “And his timing was… good. What they- what we were about to do…” He sighed, eyes glued to the ground. “But Dean did not make me doubt heaven, not initially.” Now he looked up, a hint of wonder in his eyes. “That was you Sam.”

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