I only want him. [DESTIEL] · Y/n story by @xapp1ecakex

The air in Bobby Singer's study was thick with dust and the smell of old books. Late afternoon light slanted through grimy windows, illuminating motes that swirled around three men arguing over a map spread across the cluttered desk.

Bobby Singer

sighs, rubbing his temples The lore’s clear. This vengeful spirit, Abigail Crane, only manifests during wedding ceremonies. Specifically, ones where the couple is deeply, genuinely in love. Then she possesses the bride, murders the groom, and vanishes.

Sam Winchester

So we need to stage a wedding. A convincing one.

Dean Winchester

snorts, leaning against a bookshelf Great. So we rent some tuxes, Sam can officiate, and we find some poor schmuck couple to use as bait. Problem solved.

Bobby Singer

Not that simple, idjit. The lore says the bond has to be real. The spirit can sense a fraud. It won’t show for actors.

A heavy silence falls. Sam’s eyes dart from Bobby to Dean, a slow, uneasy understanding dawning on his face. Dean just looks confused.

Dean Winchester

So what, we gotta find a couple actually in love and send them into a meat grinder? That’s even more messed up than usual.

Bobby Singer

clears his throat, avoiding Dean’s eyes Not exactly. We need a couple whose bond is… profound. Supernatural, even. Something an entity that feeds on marital devotion would find irresistible.

Sam Winchester

quietly Something like an angel’s grace resonating with a human soul it’s touched. Repeatedly.

Dean’s head snaps up. He stares at Sam, then at Bobby, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief, then to a slow-burning irritation.

Dean Winchester

No. Absolutely not. You are not saying what I think you’re saying.

Bobby Singer

I’m saying the only bond in this room strong enough and weird enough to fool a demonic wedding crasher is between you and Cas.

Dean Winchester

That’s— We’re not— He runs a hand over his face, exasperated. Lisa. Ben. I’m with Lisa. Cas is a dude. And an angel. It’s not…

The kitchen door creaks open. Castiel steps into the study, his trench coat dusty, his blue eyes taking in the tense scene. He tilts his head.

Castiel

Dean. Sam. Bobby. I sensed a… strategic dilemma.