Five Hundred Miles by thatpeculiarone (@imthatpeculiarone) Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 6k

Dean Winchester and Cas Novak, along with their friend Charlie Bradbury, have been close friends since sixth grade. Growing up only a couple of streets apart, they were as close as most friends could be. However after years together for middle school, high school and college, Cas ends up moving away to Denver, just when a new stage of their lives was about to begin. Cas is miserable in Denver, missing the life he had back in Lawrence. However, when he realised that he was in love with his best friend, his male best friend, he knew he couldn't stay. There was no way Dean would ever be in love with him... right? However, when Cas awakes to a missed call and voicemail from his friend, he realises that what he perceived wasn't quite as accurate as he thought. So, he begins the five hundred mile journey home.

I will say it time and time again, our fandom is the luckiest, because somehow we got all the best writers out of it. It doesn’t matter if the fic is over 100k or, like this one, less than 10, our writers always manage to give every fic their all, proven once again by Five Hundred Miles. 

Willow by thatpeculiarone (@imthatpeculiarone) Rating: Mature Word count: 71k

Castiel Novak had known Dean Winchester his entire life. Growing up together, the two friends' worlds revolved around one another, each of them looking forward to their annual summer get togethers at the Winchesters' farm and winery, located in the rolling hills of Napa, California. However, it only takes one night for seventeen years of friendship to all come crashing down. When Castiel confesses his feelings for Dean, his friend’s rancorous reaction sends him packing. Castiel leaves, and stays away for ten years. When Dean’s father John falls ill, Castiel begrudgingly visits the farm again for the first time in a decade. Castiel is nervous to relive that night. He is nervous to be back at a place that holds so many memories. He is nervous to see Dean for the first time in so long. While he grapples with his anger and hurt, he also has to grapple with the fact that the feelings he holds for Dean may still be there after all this time.

This fic, oh this fic… this fic had me in a chokehold from the start. If you want to feel all the emotions, if you’re looking to be transported into an alternate universe, if you want to cry, then I suggest this fic be read immediately. Told from Cas’s POV, we are right by Cas’s side as his heart gets broken into millions of pieces by the person he trusted most in the world and instantly, you’re invested. 

This is the point where I suggest grabbing a box of tissues. You’re going to need them. 

Willow takes us on a journey, ten years later, when Cas returns to the place that changed him, and the person responsible, while they’re both surrounded by their family and friends and in an impossible situation for all their pain and feelings to get worked out. On top of trying to find a way to forgive Dean, Cas is also struggling with his still lingering feelings for the guy, and pretty much everyone telling him that he wasn’t alone in them. 

AHHHH its Posting Day for our story and art!!

I enjoy DCBB every year, and this one was no exception. We didn't let a time zone gap get us down!

Here's the lovely story written by @imthatpeculiarone

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50136361/chapters/126615019

And my art is below! Enjoy!

Willow

Author: thatpeculiarone

Artist: 7hunnyybunnyy7

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Castiel, Minor John/Mary, Minor Chuck/Becky, Minor Bill/Ellen, Minor Sam/Jess

Length: 71059

Warnings: Mentions of Alcoholism, Mentions of Past Conversion Therapy, Mentions of Internalized Homophobia, Minor Character Death

Tags: Reunions, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Pining, Childhood Friends, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Enemies, Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Summary: Castiel Novak had known Dean Winchester his entire life. Growing up together, the two friends' worlds revolved around one another, each of them looking forward to their annual summer get togethers at the Winchesters' farm and winery, located in the rolling hills of Napa, California. However, it only takes one night for seventeen years of friendship to all come crashing down. When Castiel confesses his feelings for Dean, his friend’s rancorous reaction sends him packing. Castiel leaves, and stays away for ten years. When Dean’s father John falls ill, Castiel begrudgingly visits the farm again for the first time in a decade. Castiel is nervous to relive that night. He is nervous to be back at a place that holds so many memories. He is nervous to see Dean for the first time in so long. While he grapples with his anger and hurt, he also has to grapple with the fact that the feelings he holds for Dean may still be there after all this time.

This is where i pause to have a mini freak out, as the stars have aligned in my favor.

Long story short, I am now performing “Observations by the Angel Castiel” for future meets. I literally intro with “On November 5th…” I get to act out Castiel and I’m so fucking proud of this chain of events, and I fucking love your poem.

(The only funnier thing is if by some Miracle I make it to nationals, and get to say that I performed Destiel at nationals)

HOW DID I ONLY JUST SEE THIS OH MY GOD

Little update: I didn’t make it to nationals, but i can now say I performed Destiel at State.

Dean: do parents count?

Cas: yes

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WHAT IS REGENCY?

The Regency period of Great Britain and Ireland spanned several years in the early nineteenth century. King George III was unwell and unfit to rule, so his son, Prince George, became the prince regent from 1811 until his father’s death in 1820.

If you’re considering signing up for this bang you’re probably already familiar with the most famous portrayals of the era—Jane Austen’s novels (Pride & Prejudice, Emma, Mansfield Park etc) and perhaps more modern romance authors such as Georgette Heyer. Or maybe, you binge-watched (like plenty of us) Netflix’s Bridgerton and fell in love with their regency-esque world!

Think grand balls, brooding heroes, advantageous marriages and mysterious strangers—the regency is brimming with stories to be told!

Can’t wait to see who will be participating and what amazing creations you’ll bring! We’re so excited!

Supernatural had the opportunity to do something great. To send a message of love and validation to a whole community. Not only to the part of the community that liked their show, but to all of us. But instead they decided to pander to the people, who never had to question their representation.

I support #TheySilencedYou, #TheySilencedThem and #TheyWillNeverSilenceUs and I'm in awe of all of you. And I feel like your message goes beyond this particular TV show and the CW.

It's about protesting a pattern of disrespect towards otherness in Mainstream Media. It's about demanding meaningful, unmistakably queer representation, that enables discourse and furthers understanding in a heterogenic Audience. It's about asking Networks to not only hire diverse staff but to also give them the freedom to tell their stories the way they want to. It's about telling creators to own up to the inherent messages they leave us with in the end.

And that's inspiring and should be celebrated.

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Sign-ups now open for artists, writers and betas for the 2021 round of the SPN regency bang! We accept all ships within the fandom! Please read the rules, schedule and FAQ to know what this round entails.

Sign-up here 

WHAT IS REGENCY?

The Regency period of Great Britain and Ireland spanned several years in the early nineteenth century. King George III was unwell and unfit to rule, so his son, Prince George, became the prince regent from 1811 until his father’s death in 1820.

If you’re considering signing up for this bang you’re probably already familiar with the most famous portrayals of the era—Jane Austen’s novels (Pride & Prejudice, Emma, Mansfield Park etc) and perhaps more modern romance authors such as Georgette Heyer. Or maybe, you binge-watched (like plenty of us) Netflix’s Bridgerton and fell in love with their regency-esque world!

Think grand balls, brooding heroes, advantageous marriages and mysterious strangers—the regency is brimming with stories to be told!

Can’t wait to see who will be participating and what amazing creations you’ll bring! We’re so excited!

Eventually, after walking for quite some time, Dean stopped in his tracks. He watched as Castiel stopped too, looking over at him with a bemused expression.

“What is it Dean?” He asked. “Do you hear something?”

No, Dean wanted to say as he stared into the distance. He didn’t hear something.

He saw something.

Up ahead, more than twenty feet from where they stood, something glowed.

Dean was entranced by it and began to walk towards it. It stood out like a sore thumb; the bright, ethereal glow creating a dichotomy of dark and light within the woods. It looked so magical, so inviting that before he had even thought about it, Dean shoved his torch back into Castiel’s hands and began to run, moving towards it as quickly as he could.

He heard the prince shout and chase after him. But for once, Dean ignored it.

The grass turned into stone and Dean almost took a tumble as he ran up onto the platform. It was there that he saw what was shining, as it was clearly unmistakable up close. There, half-buried in the stone, was a sword. It was a large sword, much larger than his own. It had a shiny blue hilt, with a diamond encrusted into it. The blade was similar to silver in colour, but with a slightly icy hue. Dean was unsure whether it was meant to look like that, or if it was the light that seemed to radiate off of it.

Without thinking, Dean reached forward and grabbed the hilt with both hands. He heard Castiel’s faint cry of, “what are you doing”, but found he couldn’t answer him. Instead, he began to pull, attempting to unsheathe the sword from the stone with all his might. The air around him became cooler and a shiver ran down his spine. He pulled at the sword, at first feeling a fair amount of resistance from the weapon. He kept trying, tugging, ignoring the sting of his hands and arms, the tension in his shoulders, the sweat beading on his forehead. For some reason, all his mind could tell him was that this sword was his. He needed it. He was to take it.

The sword resisted for awhile, until all of a sudden, it was as if the stone turned to mush. Just like magic, that resistance was gone and Dean gracefully was able to yank the sword up, pulling it completely free from the stone.

Around him, the darkness dissipated and light immediately began to shine downwards from the sky above. The whole area illuminated, so that Dean could see the trees and grass around him and the other elements of wildlife scattered around. He came back to himself, away from the hyper focused state he had been in from the moment he saw the sword. He blinked a couple of times, glancing down at the sword in shock, before turning to make sure the prince was alright.

Castiel stood a few feet away, both of the torches now abandoned on the ground, no longer lit. He looked over at Dean with a mixture of emotions: awe, surprise, bewilderment. When he first took the sword, he had no idea why it was so important or why it was just abandoned here in the middle of the woods. But as he saw Castiel’s face, the prince’s eyes trained solely on the weaponry, he pieced it together all at once.

Oh no.

Art I made for the @spn-mediabigbang!

Here’s an excerpt from my partner, @imthatpeculiarone, inspired by Breath of the Wild!

He watched as the shadow moved, slowly getting closer and closer until finally, Dean’s face came into view. He had not seen Dean like this before, sleepy and sluggish. Dean always awoke an hour before Castiel, energetic and alert by the time he made contact with him. He had never seen Dean tired, with bed hair and bags under his eyes. This Dean was Dean, his regular, human friend. Not the Dean he knew, the charming knight with an ever-so observant gaze. 

Dean reached out to grab his hand, gently leading him into the room and closing the door behind him. Once they were alone, Dean turned to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. He was not surprised that Dean’s first guess was that something was wrong. He knew that Castiel would never come to his bedroom, in the middle of the night, unless something problematic had occurred.

“Nothing is wrong,” Castiel whispered, “I… I really should not have come here. It was childish of me. Go back to sleep and I will go back to my quarters.” 

“Something is wrong,” Dean insisted, “I know you Cas. Just tell me what is going on.” 

He stared into Dean’s dimly lit eyes and sighed. He knew there was no way that Dean would relent and let him wordlessly escape. Dean was demanding answers and Castiel knew he had to give them. 

“I am scared,” he admitted, feeling the shame and guilt course through him, “I am scared of what will happen if I do not succeed tomorrow. I am scared of what will happen if I fail once again. I am scared that The Empty will return and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. I… I came in here because I am scared and I am unsure how to cope with it.” 

Dean stared at him for a moment, blinking a couple of times as he processed Castiel’s words. Castiel watched in surprise as Dean then leant down, grabbing Castiel’s hand with his own and slowly leading him over to the bed. 

“Don’t feel as if I am pressuring you,” Dean said, “but when I had nightmares as a child, I would seek out my parents in their bed. There, my mother would wrap me in her arms and hold me close. Somehow, it made all my fears fade away. I know it may sound strange, but if you are feeling fearful, sometimes being close to someone else can help.” 

Dean looked hesitant after stating his suggestion, worry pooling behind his eyes. Castiel knew it was a weird thing to suggest to a Prince, especially by the Prince’s own knight. Dean could not have known that Castiel practically wanted to leap into Dean’s arms – he could not have known how irrevocably in love Castiel was with him. To Dean, the suggestion broke the social boundaries and royal etiquette. To Castiel, the suggestion was everything he wanted and more. 

“Yes,” he agreed instantly. To share a bed with Dean, even in a platonic way, was an opportunity that Castiel could not refute. 

Poor tuckered Dom!Cas! The bachelor party shenanigans just wore him out.

Gabriel was one of Dean’s best friends. It had been a strange realization, once upon a time—the dude was fucking annoying, honestly, and occasionally Dean wondered if it was truly friendship or something more like Stockholm Syndrome. But there was no denying it now, after several years of working together, being forced to trust each other and confide in each other because there was simply no room for anything else when your livelihoods were so entwined: Dean and Gabriel were friends. The irritating, moody, bratty little dude with a bit of a superiority complex and an unhealthy sugar addiction was almost as dear to him as Charlie was.

For some reason, it bugged the shit out of Sam. Dean had never known why, never worked out if there was some kinda history there that he didn’t know about, and he’d never asked. Just on the off-chance that the answer might be super horrifying. But there was something that hung between Gabriel and Sam that made Dean keep them apart, more often than not. His bachelor party, of course, was one of the few occasions where the two of them had to play nice, for Dean’s sake.

So, Dean had enjoyed it. It was so, so rare that he got to have all the people he loved in one place. Sam, Gabriel, Charlie...Castiel. Obviously Castiel, because he was the groom. He’d wormed his way into Dean’s heart even more thoroughly than Gabriel had. Fucking Novaks. 

Normally, Gabriel’s over-the-top party planning would have been a huge source of irritation for Dean. At heart, he was a “quiet beer and a movie” kinda guy, or a “couple of shots at the strip club” guy if he was feeling antsy. A full night of parading through club after club, dancing and shrieking and getting lost in pulsing lights...yeah, not so much his thing. Dean found that he couldn’t be annoyed tonight, though.

Staggering through the front door of his little townhouse with Castiel’s warm weight leaning tipsily into his side, Dean had no regrets at all.

Given the amount that he’d drunk, Castiel still seemed astonishingly sober. A little more affectionate than usual, perhaps, but Dean had no complaints about that. He wouldn’t say anything about how Castiel looked, either; parted lips that screamed “fuck me” and hair that looked like he already had, a twinkle in his eyes and a flush high on his cheeks. 

“That was a surprisingly nice evening,” Castiel said. He didn’t slur, but somehow the more he drank the stronger his accent became.

Dean was weak for it. Oh, worse than weak. That voice made him want to crawl on his knees, to plead, to tear up and beg.

He successfully pushed down the feelings, slamming the townhouse door behind them. In the distance, he heard the cough of Jess’ minivan engine restarting as she pulled away to drop off the next sloppy partygoer on her list. She was a damn saint, that one. Dean would never let Sam hear the end of it if he screwed that one up.

“Yeah, Dean answered Castiel once they were inside. “I’ve not got a ton of bachelor parties to compare it to, I’ll admit, but no one organizes a night out quite like your brother does.”

“He is singularly talented at debauchery,” Castiel noted solemnly. “Though more likable the more I get to know him, I think.”

“I guess you didn’t spend all that much time together growing up, huh?” Dean said, leaning on the wall to ease off his boots. Not that he was drunk, of course. The wall was just moving a little.

Castiel turned, leaning on the banister at the bottom of the stairs to watch as Dean fought with his laces. The twin plastic penises that protruded from his hair bobbed comically as he looked down at Dean’s hands. “No, not too much. I love him, of course, he is my brother. But he is, uh…” 

Dean looked up as Castiel trailed off, smirking as he watched Castiel’s brow furrow. “Word issues, Mister Shakespeare?”

“Razdrazhayushchiy,” Castiel said feebly.

“Gesundheit,” said Dean.

Castiel flapped a hand in annoyance before turning toward the stairs. “I am going to change,” he said, the steps creaking as made his way heavily up them. “I will be back.”

“Go to sleep, Dmitri,” Dean mumbled, grinning down at his footwear as he finally managed to kick them off. 

Some vague Russian sounds from above indicated that Castiel would not, in fact, be going straight to sleep.

Dean managed to schlep his way into the kitchen and set the coffee maker, something that he knew he’d appreciate in the morning, before he heard the stairs creaking once more. 

Castiel reappeared in the hallway in a pair of his usual soft sweatpants and a simple t-shirt...and still wearing the tacky “Groom” sash—which had migrated from Dean to him somewhere between the second and third clubs they’d been to—and his cheap, bobbly peens. 

Dean stifled a laugh. “Did you—did you put them back on after you changed?” he choked out.

Castiel looked at him blankly.

“Nevermind,” Dean said, biting his lower lip. “Forget I said anything.”

“Go sit,” Castiel grumbled, opening the cabinet where the glasses were kept.

Dean opened his mouth to protest that he was fine, he—

“Now.”

Dean went. 

The couch felt mighty good after a long night on his feet. Dean let out a woozy sigh, leaning back into the old, soft cushions. He was definitely too old for this shit. 

It seemed to be only seconds later when the seat dipped down next to him. Rolling his head to the side, Dean cracked open his eyes.

In the soft lamplight, sleepy-eyed and flushed, Castiel was breathtaking. Dean was well aware that there was a dopey smile on his face as he looked up at him, but really there was fuck all he could do about it.

“Here,” Castiel said, holding out a glass of water. “Drink it down.”

“I’m fine, really,” Dean began, pushing on the cushions with his elbows to get himself upright. “I mean, I drank a lot, but—”

“Come along, moj mal’chik. Be good.” 

Maybe it was the weird, smooth vodka with the fucking grass in it, or the many odd-looking purple shots that Gabriel had produced, but Dean couldn’t help but think everything would be good—more than good—if only this was real.

“Okay, Cas,” he said softly, parting his lips.

Castiel didn’t even expect him to hold it, cradling the back of Dean’s head with one hand as he guided the cup. Dean watched him lazily, warm and drunk, sipping the water obediently. When his hand slipped away, cup empty, Dean had to bite back a whine.

“These too.” Castiel opened his palm to reveal a couple of the extra-strength ibuprofen that lived in the kitchen cabinets. “You might not feel like you need them now, but I think you will appreciate having taken them when you wake up.”

Dean reached for them, ignoring the electric buzz when his fingers touched Castiel’s palm. “Thanks, buddy,” he said.

Castiel smiled, something faint and quiet, then pulled his feet up onto the couch. “You’re welcome,” he said, far more solemn than the situation warranted. 

“Tired?” Dean asked. “Or do you wanna watch a movie or something before we head to bed?”

“You should take your coat off, first of all.” Castiel smirked, tugging at Dean’s sleeve. “But yes, after that a movie would be nice.”

Oh. Whoops. Dean looked down at his still-covered arms. “Huh. Okay. I’ll go put this away, you pick a movie?”

“Of course, Dean.”

Hauling himself awkwardly up off the couch, Dean shuffled back out to the hallway, wondering what the hell had been in those purple things that Gabriel had produced from somewhere. He didn’t often get this messy.

Upon returning to the living room, Dean was surprised to see that the TV was still off—until he turned to look at the couch, anyway. 

Castiel was sprawled out with his head on the arm of the chair, one leg kicked up across the back cushions. His pink lips were parted a little, a rumbling snore catching in his throat. 

Dean tiptoed over to the couch, keeping quiet—or at least as quiet as his drunken feet would let him be—and looked down at Castiel, smiling softly. It was so like Castiel to want to look after Dean even when he was dead on his feet himself.

With one hand resting on his stomach, Castiel looked far too peaceful to wake up. Dean thought about trying to lift him, but dismissed it. The couch was fine. Instead, Dean tugged the blanket off the back of the armchair near the window and unfolded it, fanning it lightly over Castiel. He pulled it up gently, tucking it around his chest. 

“There we go, buddy,” he whispered. Cautiously, Dean reached out one hand and smoothed a tuft of Castiel’s hair down, allowing his thumb to trail slowly over Castiel’s brow. 

Dean’s back cracked as he rose back to his feet and moved to the door, ready to head to bed himself. He paused to look back over his shoulder and drink in a little more of Castiel. 

Yeah, so maybe this whole bachelor party thing, this whole marriage, was entirely fake. But Dean felt lucky anyway.