He saw the Devil’s trap fail, saw Dagon rip Michael’s lance from Cas’ hands and toss it to the floor. She pinned him to the wall with an unseen force and choked the life from him. His eyes rolled back as into his head as he crumpled to the ground.
Dean’s vision swam with red. The roaring of his blood in his ears drowned out Dagon’s gleeful cackling as he took up Michael’s lance, reforged by God himself, and drove it through her heart.
But it was too late. Cas was gone.
He rushed to his friend and knelt by his side, sliding a rough, calloused hand along the stubble of his cheek, but Castiel’s head only lolled to one side.
“Please, please let this work,” whispered Dean hoarsely to himself as he pulled a necklace over the top of his head to reveal a vial of ethereal blue, glowing softly as if it had a lifeforce all its own. He uncorked it and held it up to Castiel’s mouth.
“Please, Cas, please. Stay with me, I got ya.”
The grace slowly crept out of the vial and coiled cool blue tendrils around Castiel’s nose and mouth before suddenly and forcefully pouring into him. His back arched and his eyes fluttered as his torso flashed a near blinding white light.
He was alive.
They knew that their meeting with Dagon would most likely result in one or both of them dying, and by saving some of Castiel’s grace they’d hoped to be able to revive the other in the worst case scenario. Luckily, it worked.
Castiel blinked rapidly until his eyes focused and he could seen that Dean was upon him, taking shuddering breaths, one hand clenched around Castiel’s coat with a white knuckled grip.
“I thought I’d lost you, Cas.”
Castiel gave a small smile and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could form words Dean darted forwards, mouth roughly catching Castiel’s in a searing, desperate kiss. Castiel’s dark lashes fluttered as he moaned softly into Dean’s mouth. They kissed amongst the carnage and the blood and the sulphur until Dean finally pulled away, breathless.
“I’m sorry, Cas, I’m sorry. This… this is complicated. I’ve been holding back for so long, I never thought this could work. I–”
“It’s okay, Dean,” interrupted Castiel, voice low and soft. “I understand.” With that, the angel raised two fingers up toward Dean’s head. Dean jerked away and caught his hand, green eyes flashing with confusion.
“Cas, what the hell are you doin’?” he demanded, more confused than angry. He sat back on his heels and allowed the angel to sit up fully, head tilted, eyes sad and curious.
“My apologies. I just assumed you would–”
“That you would want me to unburden you of this memory,” Castiel replied, examining his lap in shame.
“So you thought you’d just go ahead erasin’ things from my brain without asking?” Dean scoffed.
“It isn’t without precedent,” the angel sighed, blue eyes flickering upward to meet Dean’s.
OW!!!!! My frickin goddam heart!!!!!! I was so scared the minute Ashi opened her mouth and made that portal. Dammit!! What a beautiful show and I loved every second of it. I can understand this ending of Jack changing the past. This was his goal and there is that satisfaction of finally saving his famiy. However, I was just hoping the Gods could help Ashi! There had to be a cost and it makes the ending so poetic but come on! The Gods should reward Jack at least….I knew that ladybug would be back. -.- When the ladybug first showed up with the white wolf. I was like….huh cute bug. Then Ashi had her flashback with it….I was oh frick no….This bug is symbolizing her. This bug is coming back… BACK TO THE PAST SAMURAI JACK!!!
….now I have to mourn.The future of what could have been…..
I feel that Jack would have a son with Ashi. Just because there was so many daughters haha.
We know that Newt still has nightmares about Tina’s sobs when they were being led to the death chamber. He blames himself for putting her in that position, so it haunts him.
What we don’t know is that Tina still has nightmares about Newt’s sobs as he was being tortured by Grindelwald in the subway. She honestly didn’t think she’d get there in time to stop either Graves or Credence, and so still hangs on to the oppressive what-if.