Summary – It
takes a near death experience for the reader to find out why she can see an
Word Count –
Warnings – Canon-type
A/N – When I hit
my 500 follower milestone, I did drabble requests. I only received two, so I am
turning them into full one shots instead!
This one was from @trinityjadec: “OH MY GOSH CONGRATS YOU DESERVE SO
MANY FOLLOWERS!!! Could I have Cas and something with his wings? (still have an
unhealthy obsession) I LOVE YOU SO MUCH KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK”
Here you go, Trinity! I hope you enjoy it and I’m so sorry for the
Also written for @percussiongirl2017’s
I’m Finally Legal Birthday Challenge. I
got #37: Why can I see your wings? And
the song “If I Died Today” by Tim McGraw
You would never forget the first time you saw Castiel. You were sitting in the bunker library with
Sam, discussing a possible vampire case up in Omaha that you’d been trying to
research for several days, when the front door opened and Dean began descending
the stairs with another man you’d never seen before.
Au where your entire life you only dream about one thing: your soulmate(s)
And at first it’s just the little things
The color and gleam of their hair on a summer morning
The sound of their laugh
And then it’s their fears
Their favorite foods
The books they read, if they read at all
The language(s) they speak
And by the time you meet them, you know them well and love them wholeheartedly
Summary: When Sam returned from hell soulless he’d made it pretty clear he didn’t want you anywhere near him. After having gone almost two years solo, you were hunting a werewolf and Sam was hunting to get you back. This time with a soul.
“And I told you I didn’t want you around any more!” Sam raged at you, his eyes filled with pure hatred whereas yours were filled with nothing but terror. “I don’t want to leave you like this.” You tried to speak calmly. “I don’t care! I don’t have a soul, Y/N. I. Don’t. Care.” “But I do. I want to hep you, Sam. We can get your soul back, me you and Dean.” You offered the same alternative you’d been offering for ages.” “Again. Don’t care.” He smiled, he had the audacity to smile “Just leave. Tears streamed down your face as you packed your bag and left. You’d leave Dean a message on his phone when you were long gone. You couldn’t do this anymore.
18 months later
In a quick, scything motion, the blade sliced through the vampires neck causing the head and torso to fall to the floor. That was the last of them. You gave the area another check just to make sure before heading back to your car. Tossing the duffle in the boot, you slumped in the drivers seat and started the engine.
You’d gotten used to motels and moving about again. The Bunker was strangely homely after not too long. But, of course the Bunker wasn’t your home anymore. You belonged on the road so others didn’t.
You sat at the small table, waiting for your laptop to load up as you watched through the window. In a day almost fifty or so cars pulled in or out of each motel, it seemed. Today was especially busy. In fact, it was so busy you didn’t notice a 67 Chevy Impala pull up. It was so busy, the boys who got out didn’t notice your car parked less than two lanes up from theirs.
Realising you were out of beer, you figured it wouldn’t matter if you quickly popped to the corner shop to grab another pack. Snatching your jacket from the rail and tightening the laces on your combats, you headed out- too busy watching your step to notice a certain Winchester staring.
“Dean.” Sam nudged his brother urgently, his eyes not leaving the back of you as you neared the shop. “Is that?” Dean began. “That’s Y/N.” Sam’s eyes were wide. He stopped whatever he was planning on doing next and sped-walked his way over to the direction you went, closely followed by Dean, who held him back. “You really think that’s a good idea?” Dean scoffed. “I have to talk to her, Dean!” Sam protested- desperate to see Y/N again.
“Oh yeah, the guy who told her to get out of his face wants to talk to her. That’ll go swimmingly won’t it?” Sam seemed to consider this. He relaxed enough for Dean to let go of his arm and hesitated. “I have to talk to her, Dean.” He repeated, this time more pleadingly. Dean sighed. “At least wait a bit. Chances are she’s on the same case. For all we know she’s finished it.”
Sam smirked, you always knew how to get the job done in the most efficient way. He nodded slowly and turned back round. Dean seemed satisfied enough and began heading over to the main reception to check in when Sam sped off. “Sammy!” Dean warned. But then he stopped- Sam had to do this.
You frowned at the lack of beers in the aisle and decided against asking anyone if there were any out the back. Instead, you gave up and decided to go back to the Motel. On your way out you quite literally walked into someone who seemed to be in one hell of a rush. He was tall. Very tall. “Oh, sorry.” You mumbled, not bothering to look up. However, the stranger made you stop and look by saying your name. Your eyes glanced up, followed by your head. There he was. His light stubble tracing his jawline perfectly, hazel to green to blue eyes created a pallet of colours, past ear-length chestnut hair and the same damn flannel shirts. “Sam?” You tried to sound angry or stern, but your shocked voice was barely a whisper.
“Y/N.” He said your name again, relieved to finally have a face to call it to. Opening your mouth to speak, you realised you had nothing to say. You had so many questions but how could you possibly phrase any of them. Before you had a chance to even try he did the last thing you’d expect him to do. He started crying.
All your anger was replaced with confusion. “Sam…?” You asked, more cautiously this time. He smiled between the tears and you brought him into a hug. A second of hesitation and he was hugging back. His warmth enveloped you as his arms wrapped around your torso. “What happened?” You asked innocently, your voice almost breaking with sadness.
“I got my soul back.” He chuckled in among his tears. “Y/N I’m so sorry.” He sniffed, hugging you even tighter. “Oh God I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it I love you so much.” He wept.
“I love you too.” You whisper, closing the gap between you. Your lips collided with a soft and slow passion. He kissed back, you both savoring the moment. “I love you.” He repeated, pulling away and staring lovingly into your eyes.
Okay, you’ve lived a long life. You die peacefully in your bed in your nineties. Your soul goes up to Soul Central. Not an R&B joint but the depot where old souls arrive and are connected up with new bodies, new incarnations.
So, as you’re standing in line the guy in front of you asks: “so, you had a human birth last spin of the wheel of karma. Very nice, what did you do with it? You reply …
“What do you say?” “I was a rich man?” “I was a famous woman? “I ruled an empire? “I cured a dread disease?” “I wrote great a musical opus?” “I wrote great literature”?
How about “I was a good person”? How about “I learned to live without suffering and helped others to do so?” How about “I was poor but I gave what I had?” How about “I was gentle in the face of another’s anger?” How about “I fed a hungry stray?”
You see greatness does not come from big things. It comes from small things. Small kindnesses. Gentle words. Compassion. Yes, and joy, because if you do these things you will know true joy.
Now of course reincarnation is not said to work this way but I hope you see my point. To conquer suffering is to be free and in freedom comes great joy,