Hello everyone! Today and tomorrow are the last days of Wincestiel Week and I am totally ecstatic with the amount of submissions we have! Of course, we could always use more. Tomorrow is the last day you can submit entries for Wincestiel Week 2013 or by tagging your entry with wincestielweek13 and will be judged by the two mods. Remember, prizes for the people who win according to their category will receive a Wincestiel fanfic with anything the winner wants!
And how about that season finale? My jaw wasn’t the only thing that dropped during that episode!
It’s almost halfway through Wincestiel Week and we have yet to receive any submissions. Help us out, guys! Remember, the prizes for each category is a fanfiction written by one of the mods that is catered to your wants.
Let’s show some love, specifically of the Wincestiel variety. ;D
The contests have now started! The categories are graphics(this will include videos), fanart, and fanfiction! Remember: the prize for each contest is your very own fanfiction written by the Mod Niko! You can submit your entries through the submit button or by tagging your entry with wincestielweek13! Remember, not only can you do Wincestiel, but you can also do J2M!
Let’s make this the best Wincestiel Week yet!
Posted 1 year ago
#Team Free Will
Title: The Courage to Yield Pt. V — One Week Later
Pairings: Wincestiel, Sastiel.
Summary: It all comes to a head in yet another motel room, of course.
Dean is about five seconds away from shooting someone. Bobby, being the helpful (and somewhat commiserating) ghost has offered to be a target, but even Dean knows there’s something sick and wrong about shooting ghosts of old friends and father-figures because you’re confused and uncomfortable about a handsy angel and your moose of a brother.
Wincestiel Week is over. And I’d like to thank bobbyisrightthereyaidjit or submitting their wonderful story. And congrats~ because you won (
in fact you were the only one who entered)
Hopefully we can do this next year.
Posted 1 year ago
Title: The Courage to Yield Pt. IV — Parking Lot
Pairings: Wincestiel, with a slight focus on Wincest
Summary: From the backseat, Castiel watches.
Castiel has seen much in his long, long lifetime, but he thinks he likes this best:
He likes the way Sam’s eyes seek Dean in the dark, the way Dean’s hand lingers when they touch — as rare as that is — the way the front seat is silent but Castiel knows it’s not for lack of things to say.
The Winchesters have lived this complicated dance of desire and distance for years, and Castiel likes to watch it go on.
He wishes, though, that he could break the silence open, give them what they need: assurance that this is fine, that they are not alone, that this thing is as lovely as it is mutual. He knows that Sam fears having, and Dean fears wanting, though, so it’s hard.
That’s why, when he gets the chance to touch either of them, he takes it and he lingers — on a shoulder or a hip. A hand. Wherever he can get it. He loves them both, and he has felt desire thrum up from inside Sam, and answered silently.
All they both need now is Dean.
When they get out of the car at a diner, Castiel looks at Sam, seeing him both for the hero he has become and the man he and Dean have come to love. Sam darts a glance away and excuses himself to the lavatory, moving ahead at a strong pace.
Dean leans against this stolen car, watching Sam go.
“So, Cas. You and Sam…somethin’ goin’ on that I should know about?” he asks, and it’s clear he’s restraining himself.
Honesty, and feigned confusion, is perhaps the best course of action here. ”…No?”
There is enough innocence in his face still, because Dean nods and rolls his shoulders. Castiel leans back, mimicking Dean’s posture before sliding his hands into the pockets of his trench coat.
They stand in companionable silence until Sam returns, and Castiel watches as Dean’s eyes lock onto him and look him over.
He shifts a little closer to Dean and he nods to Sam, and they go into the diner. As they walk, as they make their way into a booth, Castiel lets his hand brush Sam’s hip and his shoulder press against Dean’s.
If he is lucky, if he is very lucky, they might understand.
Posted 1 year ago
Title: The Courage to Yield Pt. III — Motel Room
Pairings: SAM SEES ALL, but assumes Sastiel and Wincest are unrequited. Mostly regards Destiel and Sastiel, though.
Summary: The first night it’s the three of them, Sam offers to get another room.
Dean looks at him like he’s grown another head. ”We’re stayin’ together, Sammy.”
It sounds enough like a plea that Sam lets the matter drop and retreats to the bathroom. He touches the vial of Grace around his neck, and wonders why Meg gave it to him and not Dean — she knows what’s between them, after all.
“Keep ‘em safe, Sammykins,” she’d murmured, curling his fingers around the vial.
He doesn’t know why she seemed to care, but he’s grateful for this little bit of Cas strung around his neck, when Dean gets the rest. It’s stupid, because he knows that Cas can make Dean happy, if he lets him, and fuck him sideways if the only thing he wants isn’t for Dean to be happy.
Well, that’s not exactly true, if he digs down deep enough, but wanting is a luxury for them, and having is a miracle.
He leaves the bathroom to find Dean and Cas doing that staring thing they do, and he does his best not to interrupt. He can want happiness for them, so he does, fiercely and brightly. He presses his hand to the vial again, not looking at them as he pulls his duffel onto a bed.
But he stops when he feels eyes on him, stops and looks, and it’s Cas, looking at him the way he looks at Dean. In a moment, Sam wonders how Dean stands it, because it scares the shit out of him.
Want throbs up in him, sharp as Ruby’s knife, but he squashes it down and turns away. He can’t, and he shouldn’t, because it’s all wrong; Cas is Dean’s, and Dean is Cas’s.
They need each other in ways Sam knows he can’t dare to fathom, so he’ll hold back and let them have each other.
“There are only two beds,” Cas says, softly, directing the words to the room at large.
“I’ll take the floor,” Sam offers.
“No,” Dean and Cas counter simultaneously. Cas continues: “Dean can have a bed to himself, if Sam does not mind sharing.”
Cas sounds reasonable, sensible, and Sam convinces himself it’s okay.
It’s not very long ‘til Sam slides into bed, not looking at either Cas or Dean, facing the wall. The lights are out already when Cas’s weight makes the bed dip a little, but Sam tries to ignore it, and he does.
But he’s still awake after he hears Dean’s breath deepen and slow into sleep, and then…
Then Cas’s hand comes gently to rest on his hip. Sam goes tense and statue-still for a long and silent moment. He doesn’t know what this means, what Cas is trying to convey.
“Thank you,” Cas whispers, and Sam can feel his breath on the back of his neck.
“What?” he asks, and hopes the gravel choking his voice is mistaken for sleepiness rather than desire. He’s done so well, after all.
“For praying to me when you did. You saved me, gave me a chance to…to turn from the path I was on.” Cas’s voice is so quiet, so sweet. ”I thank you. And I’m sorry. For what I did.”
“Okay,” he replies. ”Okay.”
That seems to be the end of it; the hand retreats and Cas turns over.
Sam feels the loss of contact with an almost painful clarity, and he wonders what it meant, that soft and soothing touch that wasn’t so much sexual as it was healing.
Sam thinks that, if they’re lucky, they might all be okay.
If they’re lucky.
Posted 1 year ago
Title: The Courage to Yield Pt. II — A Stolen Car
Pairing: implied supposedly unrequited Wincest, implied unconsummated Destiel.
Summary: Dean can’t help himself — he knows what comes next. So he watches them both like a hawk, and prays Lucifer will be wrong.
Dean’s driving. Dean almost always drives.
But he keeps tossing glances to the backseat, where Cas is sitting, and to the passenger side, where Sam sleeps, hand curled around the vial that’s all that remains of Cas’s Grace. It’s corked and hangs like a pendant around his neck — Meg passed it to him when Dean had, for the first time ever, only had eyes for Cas.
Cas catches him looking, and Dean looks away. He can’t meet that even, steady blue stare, or that too-calm set to his jaw. He can’t, because if he tries, he knows he’ll break down.
He can’t do that. He’s been all right for years, keeping himself to himself. He’s not going to let one look from an ex-angel tear down all these fucking walls he’s built. He’s put enough work into making sure nobody asks, so he never has to breathe a word. He’s lived for Sam for as long as Sam’s been alive — what he wants just isn’t important in any grand scheme of things.
They’re all fucked up, yeah, fucked to Hell and back, but nobody needs to know exactly how bad he is.
“Dean?” Cas murmurs, and Dean has to look, because there’s something soft and commanding in Cas’s voice, something of the angel that pulled Dean out of Hell in there still, and Dean can’t help himself.
Cas looks inquisitive, concerned. ”Are you well, Dean?”
“I’m fine.” Dean tries to look away.
“You look perturbed.”
Dean breaks, just a little. ”You fucking tore out your Grace, Cas. So you could come on the road-trip from Hell and, what? Cas, what the Hell are you trying to do?”
“Help. This way, I’m not something you have to worry about.” Cas’s voice is calm and clear. ”This way, I can learn — I can become something you can use. Something that isn’t broken.”
The implication that Cas considers himself a broken tool to be used hurts more than Dean could have imagined.
“Cas,” he mumbles. ”Cas, we woulda found a way. We — I woulda found a way to fix it.”
“Are you so sure, Dean?” Cas is gentle, even as Dean’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. ”Some things can’t be fixed by killing things and sacrificing a Winchester to save the world.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying.” Dean pulls over, harsh, and gets out of the car.
He opens Cas’s door and grabs him by the arm, pulling him out of the car and into his personal space. ”Cas, what you did for Sam ‘n’ me…everything you’ve done, since you pulled me outta Hell — we owe you, man. You shouldn’t have had to fuck yourself up like this.”
Cas is close and vulnerable and — Dean’s brain skitters around the word — lovely in the moonlight, and Dean hates himself a little more than he’s ever had the chance to before.
“Dean, I’m the reason this is happening. I don’t deserve any gratitude from you.” Cas won’t look at him, but that only bares the side of his throat to Dean’s eyes, and the self-loathing builds more and more.
“Doesn’t matter whether you deserve it, Cas. Don’t you…” the words bubble up from the depths of his memory. ”Don’t you think you deserve to be saved, Cas? Saved, at least?” He’s not sure why, but he leans in close, pulls Cas in tight. It’s a hug, just a hug, but Dean knows that Cas knows Dean doesn’t do hugs.
Cas has got to know how much this means.
“Dean…” Cas’s voice is reverent, a fucking prayer in the dark on the side of a road somewhere in Montana.
“Promise you’re not gonna treat yourself like shit?” Dean asks, whispering into Cas’s ear. ”Promise me you’ll get through this okay, all right? That’s all I want, Cas. ’S all I want.”
That’s not precisely true, but it’s all he can even dream of actually having, so it’s all he’ll ever ask for.
Cas pulls away. ”I promise. If you’ll help me.”
They get back in the car, and Dean doesn’t look at him again until they quit for the night. It might be okay, he decides.
If they’re really fucking lucky, they might be okay.
Posted 1 year ago
Do you really think it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible temptations which it requires strength, strength and courage to yield to.
~ Oscar Wilde
Title: The Courage to Yield, Pt. I — Hospital
Pairings: unconsummated referenced Wincest, supposedly one-sided Destiel and Sastiel.
Summary: The Winchesters are the bravest men Castiel has ever known. But they are not brave enough.
Castiel has seen both Sam and Dean stripped to their souls, quite literally. He has pulled them both from Hell after sacrifices neither should have had to make, but Heaven would have ordered of them anyway. Castiel remembers bathing their souls in his Grace, trying to knit them back together as he rebuilt their bodies.
He did reasonably well with Dean; Dean remains changed by his decades in Hell, but he, somewhere deep beneath his fear and self-disgust, he knows he is absolved and healed.
For Sam it was not, is not so. Sam still carried the Cage with him, simply locked away in the recesses where Dean carries his healing. Until Castiel laid a hand on him and stole the madness from his mind, ripped what still remained of Lucifer out of his soul, Sam had no peace, no healing touch of angelic love.
That remains Castiel’s gravest sin. Not working with Crowley, not opening Purgatory, no, but failing Sam.
Because Sam has always been Dean’s everything, his other half. Castiel knows this as well as he knows everything about Dean, as well as he can catalogue every scar he’d ever worn and every memory firing across the synapses Castiel once rewove. Failing Sam is failing Dean.
And failing Dean is the only thing Castiel has ever been able to regret. He regrets that, when he does not regret disobeying Heaven or fighting the Apocalypse or killing dozens of his brothers in at all the same scale.
So now, Castiel sits, Lucifer’s silken voice trying to liken them to each other — though Castiel, even broken and hurt and alone, knows far better than that — and thinks of the Winchesters and hopes that someday they will know each other for what they are to each other. He waits for the day, if he is there to see it come, when he will look at Dean and see the world removed from his shoulders, and look at Sam and see pure, unfettered joy.
The can give each other that, if they try. Castiel knows this, because he knows them.
But because he knows them, he knows that it cannot be. He knows that Dean is afraid of wanting and Sam is afraid of hurting and it frightens both of them to risk any of the fragile peace they’ve carved into each other’s lives.
That is the worst of it, Castiel thinks, staring at a white wall; because Castiel has loved Dean since he first beheld him down in Hell.
And he has since learned that loving Dean means loving Sam, and that should not have been so easy, should not have made it so easy to choose to take his place in this ward full of mad people, but it has. Castiel loves Sam, and he loves Dean, and that is why he is here, why he is thinking on them, long and deep. He clings to the memory of them as Lucifer slides in close, a mad memory that is not his.
That is why it is so easy to ignore Lucifer, to ignore Meg when she comes calling, to simply exist and think.
That is why, when he has thought everything through, weeks after Dean and Sam have left him here, the floor on which Castiel is staying will fill with blinding light, and Castiel will be left, graceless and sane and hysterical in his new humanity, his sword clutched in his hand and his Grace splattering the walls like glowing-white arterial spray.
He will still be laughing when Meg dials Dean Winchester’s number and begins to clean the room. He will not stop until he cannot breathe and his ribs ache and Meg is done.
And then he will cry, when she is gone and for the first time in weeks he is truly alone.
He will not mind, because he loves them, and they love each other, and maybe this way he can have some part of them and give them all of him — even though all they have ever wanted is each other, never him.
If he is lucky, they may even take what he can offer them.
If he is lucky.
A/N: So this is my plan: Each day this week, I’ll write a drabblet leading up to Wincestiel porn at the end of the week. Yes, this is angsty and I pray to Chuck it doesn’t happen in show, because fallen!Cas hurts my heart.