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(no subject)

“Son a bitch!” is all that Dean can think to say.

Castiel’s eyes are wide as he stares at the monstrosity as it drips violet juice onto his once pristine shoes. A light dusting of sugar rains from the sky, settling on his coat’s shoulders, as honey drizzles from a few nearby street lights.

Pie?” Dean’s voice is distant – he stares with a mixture of admiration and impending doom as a little icing sugar nestles into his hair. “Is this – Cas is this a building made of pie?”

“It – uh,” Castiel stammers, uneasiness squirming in his stomach. “It appears so.”

“...pie?” Dean takes a step toward it, instinct tell him to leave it well enough alone, while his stomach told him to just right in and eat the awnings. There’s a little bit of curiosity mixed in there somewhere as well, because, well, come on. A building made of pie?

“Dean, it might not be a good idea to – ” But Dean’s apparently ignoring his instinct and going with his stomach. He’s half way up the steps even before Castiel can finish his sentence. With reluctance, Castiel follows him, cursing something about Winchesters and their stomachs in his mind.

Inside, the walls smell so sweet it’s almost sickening. Castiel sort of hovers at the doorway, not wanting to go inside, but feeling the need to keep his eye on Dean – protect him from the golden crusts that are being used as support beams in the ceiling.

Dean can’t remember why they’re here, or even what they’re hunting, and something, somewhere in the back of his mind is telling him that’s not because he’s in a building made of pie. Not just any pie, but blueberry pie, and that’s his favourite kind, and....

The ground begins to quake.

“Dean!” Castiel’s at his side in a second, cursing himself for letting Dean put himself in peril, whatever was actually happening, and grabbing at Dean’s arm to drag him out. When he finds that Dean is routed to the spot, he closes his eyes and jabs Dean with his ‘angel mojo.’ He only really begins to panic when he opens his eyes and they’re still inside the pie.

Pie building. This is a building and it has exits. Exits. Castiel has to get them out. Dean’s practically drooling now, so he’s probably not going to be very cooperative. The way the ground’s shaking, though, it looks like it’s get out or get killed.

Castiel’s still trying to pull Dean away – but something else is holding on.

Great. They’re going to die in a giant pie.

A giant freaking blueberry pie.
The world is all colours. Violet gushing through golden as the ceiling falls, and Dean watches it. He can’t feel the smile on his face, he can’t feel anything, but he can see pie and smell pie and taste pie and, oddly, feel pie. He can feel pie. It’s in his boots, trickling down the back of his neck, rupturing to reveal a sky blue above him and someone’s grabbing at his hand but he can’t remember who it is and he was never supposed to go with strangers anyway, so he stays routed to the spot and refuses to leave the little pie volcano that’s exploding.

And then he’s waking up, sticking and hurting and warm.

“Dean?”

“Cas?”

“Yes.”

Castiel’s never been a conversationalist.

“What... happened? Where are we?”

“We’re in the motel room, Dean. Your brother – he’s just gone out to get some supplies. He should be back... soon.”

“What happened?” Dean repeats. “In the pie?”

“What... pie?” Cas asks. Dean can pretty much hear the furrow in his brow and the confused tilt of his head.

“Uh, the one we were just stuck inside? Was it a trickster or something? How’d you get us out?”

“Dean, you should sleep. You are still weak. I tried to heal you, but my powers are completely cut off.” Castiel offers by way of avoiding the subject. “You’re very sick, and I’m sure that Sam will be back soon.”

“Sick?”

“You are running a fever – sweating, and the wendigo you were hunting broke a few of your ribs. Sam called me right after he got you back – ”

“Son of a bitch.”
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Clouds - for commentfic

A cold jolt washed through Dean’s body as Castiel’s hand landed gently on his forearm. He really should have expected that the future Castiel would hold even less respect for his personal space than the present – or was it now past? – one did. He looked up from his cell phone’s blank screen, hardly seeing the point in trying to get the damn thing to work anyway, and unintentionally locked into Cas’ icy eyes. He glanced down at his forearm momentarily, and then back up at the angel human Cas. “What?”

Castiel just sort of stared, shuffled about a quarter of an inch forward, and then stared some more. Something akin to uneasy instinct settled into Dean’s stomach, but he tried to push it aside. “Cas, what?” and when the angel didn’t further reply, “What the hell has gotten into you?”

It took that much to break his stern, but thoughtful expression. “Illicit substances, mainly,” he joked, but there was a darker undertone that Dean chose to ignore. Castiel continued to look at him like he knew something that Dean did not – perhaps, five or so years of somethings, Dean remembered – and didn’t let go.

Just kind of... asked with his eyes.

“Well, whatever it is, you took too much,” Dean told him, and tried to pull his arm back so that Castiel would let go. It worked. “’Cause no offence, but I don’t swing that way.” He tried to pass it off as a joke, but didn’t believe himself.

“Oh,” This brought a smirk to Castiel’s lips. “That’s right. I forgot how... shy you used to be.”

Dean blinked at this. “Wait... used to be?”

“Dean, this is not exactly new territory for us. I mean, for you it is, but not us.” He watched with some amusement as Dean’s eyes, gold-fish-like, tried to pop out of his head.

“You mean, I, we... you... do that?”

Castiel nodded once, a smile on his lips. “Frequently.” When Dean did nothing but blink back at him, he tried a different approach. His face softened into a somewhat pleading expression, “Dean, please? Other you is busy, and well...” and Dean saw him cock that eyebrow up, right there.

“Cas, I – ”

“Relax. Past me will never know, God I didn’t even think that you... felt that way. Didn’t know I could feel that way. And chances are Zachariah’s eyes will be so far blown out of his skull that he won’t let you remember it either.” Damnit, Dean swore that those were puppy-dog eyes. “Dean, please?”

“You – can’t you just, maybe... a girl?” Dean stumbled, laughing somewhat frantically as he added, “You seem to get enough of them.”

Castiel’s was closer now. “It isn’t the same. You could ask future you... except that you wouldn’t tell you.”

“But couldn’t you – ”

“Dean, in three years from now, you’re going to tell me that this is what you want.” Castiel paused, his eyes alight. “I’m going to freak out like Hell, but I’m not going to be an angel for very long after that, anyway.”

“The future can change,” Dean didn’t know whether he said this for Castiel’s benefit, because of the sad glint in his eye when he spoke of being an angel, or his own. In either case, it didn’t assure either party.

“But it doesn’t,” Castiel’s voice was soft. “Dean, I’m already here. So are you, for the moment. So... just trust me, okay?” His hand fell back onto Dean’s arm. “Can you do this for me?”

“Cas, I appreciate the guilt trip, but...” He couldn’t look up; those eyes that would meet him burned. “Maybe in a few years, when the world is down the chute, then... I guess I don’t know. But not now, man. Not...”

“Not when you’ll be around long enough to regret it,” Castiel finished for him. There was something in his answer that told Dean the only reason this whole mess had started: because he was a reckless jerk with a ticking time bomb in his hands. Sounded nice and familiar.

“Cas, I just, it’s nothing personal, okay?”

And this time, his friend smiled. “It never is.”

Dean couldn’t see it in Castiel’s eyes – wouldn’t be able to for another few years, but Castiel sometimes forgot why it was he fell in the first place. Why he wasn’t up in Heaven, serving God and playing nice with his brothers.

Usually Dean – any Dean, apparently – served him with a reminder.

He knew why he’d picked this path -- as Dean went back to searching for cell phone coverage that he’d never find, and eventually moved onto cleaning his guns --

Because he’d discovered that he could give and take, love and be loved. Kill, and, invariably on occasion, be killed. Watch television, smoke strange chemicals, drink too much and wake up without a memory of the past night. Fight demons and croatoans and zombies and death. Get the girl, or guy, or angel, or demon, or whatever the hell he wanted.

He’d discovered that he was human, above all else, and he’d wanted to stay that way.
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Multi Fandom Oil Spill Fundraiser?

Hi guys,

I'm not sure if this is in the right place or not, and I'm probably a little late, but I've been surfing the web looking at the many fandom charity/fundraisers that have taken place over the years, and I was wondering what you all thought of conducting one to help the rescue and rehabilitation of animals after the oil spill? I'm in Australia, so I'm a bit "out of the loop" (our media lags!) so I'm not sure what's going on in that front, but I thought it would be an excellent opportunity for fandom to get together once again and lend a helping hand.

Thinking about it, if only half of the members of the sn/tv board alone gave $1, we could hand over something like $22,000 to help. I was thinking we could run it along the lines of a fan auction of items like fic, fanart, vids, etc. - something like the Sweet Charity events - and I'd be more than happy to look into websites/auction software to run it, as well as getting the appropriate authorization from the charity we'd want to give to. What I would really like is

a) an opinion on whether it would be possible
b ) anyone who's run one/been in one before to give advise?
c) maybe a name of a charity we could give to?
d) a "media correspondant" in the US/local area to keep us in the loop (or me in the loop, at least)

And just some general ideas... I don't know if it could happen, but I kind of want it to.

EDIT: a quick google search has told me that there doesn't seem to be anything like this happening already in fandom - though it might be wrong.
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Handbaskets

Title: Handbaskets
Warnings: Torture, Hell, Season Five spoilers, KIND OF.
Characters: Dean, Bela Talbot, Alastair
Rating: M.
For: comment_fic prompt, "Supernatural, Dean/Bela, she's the first on his rack after he picks up the knife" except not so much Dean/Bela.

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