Immigrant Song, by trinityofone (NC-17)

[laughingacademy.livejournal.com]

Fandom: SUPERNATURAL
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, Dean/OFC, Cas/OFC; refs to Sam/OFC, Anna/OMC, Chuck/Becky
Length: ~47,000 words
Warnings: Per the author, "Temporary genderfuck. Crossdressing. Rimming. Lesbian nuns. Reckless driving. Lots of fun stuff!"
Author on LJ: trinityofone
Author Website: tales of an unreal city
Why this must be read:

This is a hypothetical season six written as a Big Bang fic, and although this version of events goes AU from episode 5.21, it feels very true to the show. Partly this due to the use of an idea that apparently is going to be a major plot element in the real sixth season: the aborted Apocalypse and subsequent upheavals in Heaven and Hell have upset the (un)natural order of things, creating chaos and opportunity. Thus, the Winchesters and Castiel (who is on the road with the boys, his angelic powers almost entirely gone) encounter ruthless would-be warlocks, panicked demigods, and ferocious fae, among other perils.

The other reason this story works so well is that trinityofone has got the characters' voices down. Take this scene, in which Chuck and Becky show up to help (or in Becky's case, "help") when our heroes are hit with magical amnesia:

“He’s my brother?” Dean asked, jerking his thumb at Sam. “Well, I guess we know who got the looks in the family.”

Sam wrinkled his nose at him. The word “Jerk” slid easily off his tongue.

Dean seemed to take great joy in replying, “Bitch.”

“Wow,” Chuck said, nonsensically: “Sometimes it just writes itself.”

“Wait, so who’s he, then?” Dean asked, nodding at Cas, who was watching the scene unfold with a look on his face of infinite patience infinitely strained. “Is he my brother’s snotty gay lover or something?”

Chuck appeared to choke on the air in his mouth. “Sam’s? You think he’s Sam’s—? Wow. That’s, um. Dramatic irony.”

“Huh?” said Dean, for possibly the forth or fifth time.

“Guess we know who got the brains in the family,” Sam muttered to himself.

“I want to know how this happened and how you knew about it,” Cas interrupted—and hey, gay lover or not (not, Sam thought; definitely not—not that there was anything wrong with that...), Sam had to give him credit for cutting to the chase.

“Chuck,” Becky announced proudly, “is a Prophet of the Lord.”

“Oh,” Cas said, for some reason hearing this strange pronouncement and looking instantly more at ease. “You’re Chuck Shirley.”

Sam turned to him in shock. “You remember him?”

Cas shook his head. “No, I simply know the names of the prophets,” he said, like one might say, I know how to count to ten or I know which letter comes after C. He leveled on Sam a look of deep concern. “You’re not familiar with them?”

“Oh, right, that’s an angel thing, isn’t it?” Becky said, nodding happily.

“Angel thing?” Dean said.

“Oh yeah.” Chuck scratched at his temple. “Probably should have mentioned that. Castiel’s an angel.”

Sam happened to be watching Cas as Chuck offered up this little revelation. The expression that washed over Cas’ face was one of such profound relief, Sam could practically feel waves of it rippling across the room.

Then Chuck said, “Well, former angel, anyway.”

Cas looked like he’d been punched. The color drained from his face and the expectant, almost arrogant set to his shoulders bled away until he slumped. It made him look much smaller: almost fragile, delicate.

“Whoa, whoa, see—this is why I didn’t want to tell you anything!” Chuck said.

“No,” Cas said in a dull voice. “I’m glad I know.”

“Wow,” said Becky. “You’re taking this pretty hard. I thought you’d like being human. You know, since angels are such dicks and all.”

“Helpful,” Sam told her. Since no one else seemed to be doing anything, he hesitantly approached Cas. “Hey, man,” he said, reaching out and then wussing out and retracting a comforting hand. “I kind of, you know, have amnesia and am therefore probably missing some of the subtleties here, but I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems. Right?” He shot Becky and Chuck a look. “Right?”

“Oh, yeah!” Becky said, finally catching on. “In fact, it was, like, totally heroic, the way you fell. You were even naked for part of it! And you said you did it, all of it, for—for the Winchesters. That’s you guys,” she clarified. “And you totally wouldn’t give up on Sam, even though you called him an abomination. Because he’s your friend.” She bounced suddenly and clapped her hands. “Oh my god, I’m totally going to ship you guys now!”

Sam, for some horrifying reason he didn’t want to contemplate, knew what that meant. He made a face.

“Well, I’m glad we’ve established that you two are besties,” Dean said. Sam glanced over: he was standing in the corner, his arms folded tense across his chest. “Whatever happened to solving this little problem of ours efficiently? Huh? Castiel?”

Cas’ shoulders stiffened. “By all means,” he said. “I would be eager to hear your suggestions.”

Dean met Cas’ withering gaze and held it. And held it. And held it. Sam started seriously waiting for one of them to shout, Ha! You blinked!

Immigrant Song