Work Text:
Words: 1100
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the song Angel With a Shotgun :(
Notes:
This fic is linked to a fanvid I made titled Angel With a Shotgun—a character tribute to Castiel and his journey throughout the series.
I know it’s an old trope, but I’m new to the show and couldn’t resist jumping onboard. The lyrics match far too well.
The idea for this story came from imagining how that song might feel if Team Free Will heard it unexpectedly.
(Edit: I ended up waffling about Dean post Michael a tad too long.)
There’s no specific pairing, but if you squint, it could be read as pre-slash Destiel.
You can watch the full video here on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xburl40FJC4
~~*SPN*~~
Michael’s gone.
That should’ve been a comfort, but mostly it was a fact Dean just had to keep reminding himself of. It’d been nearly a fortnight, but the truth hadn’t settled in his bones yet.
Michael was gone, and Dean was back.
Sometimes, he catch himself expecting the mirror to shift. To blink and expect to see someone else’s reflection staring back. But the worst part was the silence. Michael had been loud, yet the quiet inside Dean’s own mind didn’t feel like peace—it felt like something missing. Like a door left open to the dark.
The Impala’s engine rumbled like a heartbeat as Dean veered towards the next highway exit. They were meeting up with Cas on a new lead—more of Michael’s grace-enhancing experiments. Ghouls this time. The specifics didn’t matter.
It was all just another reminder.
Of what had happened. Of what his hands had done.
No. He’d saved Sam. He’d saved Jack.
There was nothing to regret.
Sam was riding shotgun like old times. Jack was in the back, head tilted, listening to the radio. Some station Dean didn’t recognise. It broke the rules of the car, but the moment he started to argue, Jack had thrown Sam that look—all hopeful and innocent.
“‘Shotgun shuts his cakehole’ doesn’t apply to the backseat of the Impala,” Sam had simply smirked. “It’s just music. Let him try something new.”
But even as he spoke, he was already pulling out his earbuds probably to listen to the latest updates from the hunters he was coordinating. The traitor.
And maybe Dean had caved too easily. But he was tired—and besides—he’d tuned it out somewhere since the last gas station.
At least they’re moving. He might have agreed with Sam, after the last case, not to wallow in his room any longer, but that hadn’t meant he’d wanted to socialise in the communal areas of the bunker.
Their first real home in years now felt like a prison. Too crowded, every hallway filled with the survivors from the other world. With strangers.
Because they were.
I mean, yeah, Dean recognised them from the dark times in Apocalypse World, their rescue, and the days of celebrations before Lucifer and Michael blew it all to hell.
But it wasn’t the same.
Sam had weeks with them. Jack too. Even Cas. They had time. They’d built something. They’d found their groove.
But him? He’d come back to find a place already running without him. Like he’d stepped into someone else’s life mid-sentence.
And yet he knew they were just trying, all of them—helping, building, figuring out how to belong. He couldn't hold it against them.
He was the stranger.
He can’t breathe in the bunker yet. But he can breathe here. He can breathe on the road.
Because he still felt it. The aftershocks ripple through him more days than he lets on. Drowning in skin that was no longer his, in guilt over his newfound appreciation of Sam and Cas’ experiences with Lucifer.
“Dean?” Jack’s voice, soft, crackled through from the backseat.
It cuts through both the hum of the tyres and the battle in his mind. Glancing up at the mirror, Jack’s eyes were on him—wide, curious, open in that way Dean used to think was naivety. It still was, in a way.
Just the naivety of youth—not of innocent ignorance.
As if sensing the conversation around him, Sam slid one earbud out of his headphone cocoon to join.
“This song… is it about Cas?”
Dean frowned at the road, brow tight. “What?” he rumbled.
“The words. They suit him.” Jack’s smile is gentle. Warm. Dean hadn’t felt warmth on his own skin in weeks. “I like it. It’s kinda perfect.”
Sam leaned over to nudge his shoulder. “He’s right. It does fit, man.”
Dean’s hands flexed on the wheel. Something flickered in his chest—curiosity, caution. He hadn’t been listening before, not really, but now the melody met him like surfacing from underwater. Slow and soft at first. Then unmistakable.
I’m an angel with a shotgun, fighting 'til the war's won
I don’t care if heaven won’t take me back.
Dean swallowed. Hard. He hadn’t heard this one before. Not really in his old fashioned rock taste. But now, caught in it, the lyrics hit like a sucker punch.
I’ll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe
Don’t you know you’re everything I have?
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath. Not angry. Just… winded. Because yeah, that was Cas, wasn’t it?
The one who’d stood between them and heaven more times than he could count. Cas, who’d wrestled with his faith and his longing for purpose and belonging for so long. For a place both in Heaven and on Earth. Yet in the end, he’d still fallen.
For them.
Only to be hated by the very family he’d know for millions of years.
And I want to live, not just survive, tonight.
Dean blinked hard at the windshield. That line - he knew it. Cas wanted more than survival. He wanted to live. To be more than just an angel looking in from the edges. To feel everything for himself, not just observe it through others.
The road blurred for a split second before it sharpened again. It was almost laughable. A damn pop song on Jack’s weird radio station was peeling back more of Cas' choices than him being right there as he made them.
No one spoke. Couldn’t. Not until the next line:
And I'm gonna hide, hide, hide my wings tonight.
“He used to hide his wings near me,” Jack said softly from the backseat. “Not around you. I think… maybe 'cause you couldn’t see them.”
Dean’s heart skipped. Just once. But Jack kept going, unknowing.
“I think because they were damaged. The feathers were gone. He seemed sad about them. I didn’t get to ask why before I stopped seeing them too. They were still amazing.”
The silence in the car swelled—not heavy. Not awkward. Just full.
If love is what you need, a soldier I will be.
Far too soon, the next song started. The moment had passed, and the conversation faded as quietly as it'd started.
But if Dean stared at Cas a little too long when they finally arrived—or if someone caught him looking up the full song later that night, after the ghouls were gone and they were back in the bunker—nobody said a word.
Notes:
Shhh... the song came out in 2011. Castiel's first seasons (Seasons 4 & 5) aired 2008-2010.... coincidence anyone?
Anyway here's the link to the fanvid again: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xburl40FJC4
Hope this was okay for my first Supernatural adventure. Tarlos fans, dw I will finish my whump series eventually - I got considerably sidetracked by binging 15 seasons of a old show (whoops).