Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His superiors didn't give him any warning. Why would they? Angels were built to obey without question. Yet Castiel's free will grew in him like another organ. He felt it in there all the time. So when his superiors handed him an infant angel - a fledgling - the first thing he felt was questioning. Why?

Of course, he knew why. Whenever a new generation of angels were created, the older angels were each tasked with raising one. It was simply Castiel's turn to raise a fledgling of his own.

He stared down at the infant cradled in the crook of his arm and attachment already tugged at his heart. That was always his problem. Too much heart. The idea of an angel becoming emotionally bonded with a fledgling in his charge simply didn't exist in the old days because angels never had emotions. Castiel did though. Sometimes he loathed being so different from his siblings and the immediate attachment to his fledgling made it all the more pronounced.

Bright blue eyes almost too big for the infant angel's head stared up at him in wonderment. Naked, chubby arms wriggled free of the linen blanket swaddling his plump little body. Castiel pet the length of the baby's downy soft white wing, which brought cooes from plump little lips.

He had no idea how to raise a fledgling angel. The only person he knew with experience in babies was Dean, not that the angel was technically a human infant. He lifted the baby upright against his chest and pulled his overcoat snugly around him, the little head poking out just below his chin. His own black wings spread twenty feet wide and he flew to Kansas. If anybody knew what to do, it would be Dean.

"Hey, Cas," greeted Sam when he landed in Bobby's kitchen.

"Sam," he greeted in return. "Where's Dean?"

"Beer run with Bobby." The younger Winchester leaned into the refrigerator and rustled its contents. He always seemed to scavenge for food.

"Oh, I see." Anxiously, Castiel's knees bounced a bit in an effort to keep the baby calm and relaxed.

"Dancing, Cas?" But as Sam finally looked at him, he dropped the plastic container of sliced ham, eyes wide in shock. "Holy shit, what is that?"

"An infant, Sam."

"I-I know but..." Eyes narrowed, he approached cautiously and picked at the blanket hanging off of a wing. It fell over Castiel's arm, revealing the unmistakable shape and texture of a fluffy white angel wing. "You ... did you knock up some girl, Cas?"

Castiel squinted. "Why would I strike a female?"

"No, it's a figure ... You know what, never mind. Just start at the beginning. Why do you have a baby?"

The more Castiel talked in his low, gravely hum, the more relaxed the baby became until he dozed against his blue tie. "Every angel has to raise a fledgling at some point. It's God's law. I was raised by Gabriel and now ... apparently, it's my turn. I didn't get a choice in the matter. I was simply handed my fledgling and sent on my way."

Sam's brows furrowed together, somewhat confused, but mostly outraged for him. "So they just dump a kid on you and say good luck?"

"Basically, yes," replied Castiel as he negotiated sitting down without waking the little thing.

Noise of a door opening, heavy boots, rustling plastic bags, and voices at the front of the house interrupted their conversation. Although Castiel made no move to get up, Sam bolted for the front hall, presumably to warn Dean and Bobby about the weirdness sitting in the kitchen. The baby angel's tiny fist found its way to his mouth and made a slight sucking motion in his sleep. Castiel's hand covered the entire infant's back with fluffy wings sticking out around it.

Low voices murmured back and forth in the hall, but Castiel didn't need to listen to know what was said. Soon Dean's head popped into the kitchen, worried and filled by disbelief.

"Holy shit. Sammy wasn't lying," he murmured as if the shock knocked his voice out of him.

"Hello, Dean," said Castiel. "I need your help."

"I'd say so. But why me?" Though he tried not to stare, he leaned close enough that his shadow covered the fledgling.

"You're the only one I know who's raised any young," he explained.

"Human kids, Cas. Human. There's probably a big difference. Ben was eight when I found him. Bobby-John ... he wasn't even a normal baby. He was a shifter. Sometimes I saw Lisa's niece but--"

"--Dean, I need you to stow your crap, as you say, and help me!"

"Okay, okay." Dean put out his hands defensively. "Chill out, man. First rule - never wake up a sleeping baby. Why is he sleeping anyway if he's an angel? It's a he, right?"

"Angels can be either gender or none at all," Castiel explained. "This infant vessel is male. Some fledgling traits are more human than you might expect. There's a need to consume nutrients and expel waste. Sleep is necessary for the growth process. Two years into fledgling life, consuming, expelling, and sleeping will taper off." He momentarily squeezed his eyes shut but it did nothing to ease the vague, confused emotions. "Raising my fledgling in Heaven..." The revulsion made him shake his head.

Dean seemed to get a better grasp on the real situation. He pulled a chair close to Castiel and leaned his forearms on his knees. "Why can't you take the little guy upstairs? I'm sure you all help each other with this kind of thing."

He shook his head again. It took a minute to even formulate the right words to explain what he didn't fully understand yet. "I can't," he said quietly, fearfully. "If I raise my fledgling in Heaven, he'll grow into another angel ruled by blind obedience and faith without question. That's what I'm supposed to teach him. But that's not who I am anymore." He paused, once again shaking his head as if the confession was wrong. "I came here first thinking it was safe. There's a peculiar emotional attachment that isn't supposed to happen and I'm going to be reprimanded by my superiors as soon as they find out. We are not supposed to emotionally attach to our fledglings. I wasn't supposed to attach to you or Sam or Bobby either. This fledgling didn't do anything wrong but we could both face punishment for this."

Nodding occasionally as he listened, Dean's eyes shifted between Castiel and the infant from time to time. "Then as far as I can tell, you either have to give the kid back, or you have to raise him yourself the way you think he should be raised."

"You're suggesting I kidnap a fledgling," he replied.

"They gave him to you, right? He's your responsibility. He's yours. That's not kidnapping. That's protecting your kid from the brainwashing that you know goes on upstairs." Dean shrugged. "Ben wasn't mine either but I raised him like he was while I was with his mom. If I can do it, I don't see why you couldn't do it. Sink or swim, you know?"

Castiel squinted at the hunter sitting in front of him, wondering how he could be so insightful and patient in those moments of clarity, yet so emotionally constipated with his own emotions.

"You gotta stop calling him 'the fledgling' though. He needs a name," Dean continued. He slid his hands under the infant and took him away from Castiel, folding him in the crook of his elbow and adjusting the blanket around him. "So it's a little weird holding a kid with wings. Whatever. Just don't barf on me." He glanced at Castiel. "It's kinda nice, you know? He's cute. He has blue eyes like you. What are we gonna call him?"

"We?" mumbled Castiel. The sight of Dean holding his fledgling tugged at his overused heart.

"Sure. I'll help out. Sammy'll get used to it once he realizes it's like having a puppy. We're not going anywhere just 'cause you're kidnapping a baby angel from Heaven." He smirked at his last statement, but his expression shifted to the fear on Castiel's face. "Look, Cas, I'm all for breaking those brainwashing cycles. If you're attached to him already, then be his father. I'm gonna be here too. You're gonna need a place to hole up with the little guy. Stay close and I'll just cut back on cases for a little while." He shrugged and looked at the baby again. "Who knows? It might be fun."

"James," blurted Castiel suddenly.

"James?"

He nodded. "Jimmy Novak's full name was James. Without his prayers to be of service, I wouldn't have my vessel and I wouldn't be considering this insanity."

"James," repeated Dean again, and then spoke to the fledgling. "What do you think? You like James?"

"I'm going to be a fugitive," said Castiel in a low, dismal tone.

Dean nodded as he patted James' little butt and swayed a bit. "I figured as much. It's a hell of a lot better than not having the balls to stand up for the kid though. He'll be smart like Sammy, he'll have free will like all of us, and he'll be generous like you."

"Are you certain I'm doing the right thing?" Castiel asked, though he knew already. He knew when his first instinct was to bring James there.

"Yep," replied Dean without hesitation. "You sure?"

Leaning forward, Castiel's fingertips combed through the downy soft wing closest to him. James yawned, stretched, and his wings stretched as well. In a couple of years, those wings would molt and disappear from Dean's spectrum of vision. They had two years to bring up an angel together as a makeshift family and teach him to think and feel for himself. Old cycles didn't break without courage and freedom was the only thing worth risking life and limb to achieve.

"I suppose I'm your father now, James," he said to the baby.

Chapter Text

Every time Castiel put the infant down, he screamed and cried. Though James slept, Castiel didn't even need sleep, yet he felt a strange weariness after just two days of hiding out with a stolen fledgling and the Winchesters.

He sighed and meandered around one of Dean's many storage lockers, bouncing James lightly on his shoulder. Regret, no, he certainly didn't regret choosing to break Heaven's law and raise his fledgling away from the brainwashing and oppression. He was just ... tired. If the baby didn't need feeding, he needed diaper changes, or rocking, or bathing, or grooming his wings. No wonder humans paired up to bring up their young. Doing it alone was hard.

"I know that stuff's around here somewhere," Dean called out from deep in the rubble.

"Did you really care for an infant shifter, Dean?" he asked.

"Yeah, right after Sammy found me with Lisa. Had to buy all kinds of baby junk that should be good for you."

Castiel didn't want to think about Lisa. That was complicated.

James gurgled and drooled on his shoulder, distracting him, apparently awake again. His trenchcoat seemed to be in a constant state of drool or spitup the last few days. The infant's fluffy white wings stretched wide the way human babies stretched their arms over their heads when they napped. Instinctively, Castiel rubbed his tiny back between the wings emerging from his little shoulderblades.

It was kind of nice that Dean and Sam would be able to see James' wings until his first molting around his second birthday. There was plenty of time for that, though. He wasn't even a week old yet.

"Dean? James will begin crying for a feeding soon and we're out of honey. Where are you?" he asked, referencing the fact that fledglings fed on warm mixtures of formula, honey, and ground up rose petals. Feed, burp, diaper. Feed, burp, diaper. In a few months, the formula would be replaced with jar food. Anything to get the honey and rose petals in him, which nourished his developing grace. By his first molting, James would no longer require food.

"Wait... I think... Aha! I found something!" Triumphantly, Dean held up a car seat like pride in a fresh kill. "There are no seatbelts in the Impala but I can fix that. Gotta keep the rugrat legal."

"My fledgling is not this fictional species of vermin," retorted Castiel.

Digging around the back corner, Dean found the crib and a few odds and ends left from Bobby-John's couple of days being a Winchester. He dragged out the car seat and the pieces of dark wood crib. Somewhere nearby, he found the crib mattress and thoroughly inspected it for evidence of bugs and mice. It had been a few years after all.

"Why did you save these things?" Castiel asked as he helped Dean carry part of the crib to the car, one-handed.

Dean shrugged. "I dunno. Just in case I ever ... you know ... whatever."

A tight sound of acknowledgement rose from Castiel's throat. It seemed Dean kept it a secret that he had wanted a child of his own. But Castiel knew him better than he realized too, and knew that Dean never thought he deserved that shot after failing Lisa and Ben. So he buried it among his other secrets, like the fact that he read Dickens and Whitman sometimes. For some reason, Dean never wanted people to know how intelligent he was under his gruff attitude and warrior gifts.

"Okay, let's see if the little squirt fits in the car seat. It's one of those convertible things." Dean hooked his large hands around the baby's middle and took him from Castiel.

"What do you mean convertible?" he asked skeptically as he watched.

Squatting on the pavement, Dean carefully deposited the new fledgling angel in the car seat. "Rugrats don't stay little forever, Cas. Gotta buy stuff to fit 'em all the time. Lisa's sister had one of these convertible car seat deals and it lasted her kid until he was two. It grows with the kid."

"Oh." It impressed Castiel that he knew so much about infants but he didn't like hearing Lisa's name again. That confused him.

"Are you watching?"

"Yes, Dean," he replied automatically.

The hunter fed a baby wing and a baby arm through the first strap, and then the other baby arm and baby wing through the other strap. And then he buckled the mechanism together over his little chest with another strap up between his legs. James couldn't hold up his own head yet, so Dean balled a rope of a blanket around his head and secured it behind his shoulders. Castiel committed the process to memory as Dean lifted the car seat by a bar flipped up over the top.

"Got it?"

"Yes."

He handed over the car seat and opened the backseat door to the Impala. "'Til I get a seatbelt in there, you gotta hold onto it. Put it in the middle of the seat facing backwards."

That overwhelmed feeling crept over Castiel again as he looked down at the tiny bundle in the car seat gripped in his hands. James looked up at him with blue eyes nearly too large for his head. So many questions surfaced in his mind daily now. How was he going to keep James safe? Technically he'd kidnapped the fledgling angel. How long before Heaven put two and two together? Was he really equipped to raise a fledgling at all? How long could he depend on Dean, Sam, and Bobby to help him?

"Cas," interrupted Dean cautiously.

They met eyes.

"You're doing fine. Don't worry so much. Kids are resilient. You're allowed to screw up sometimes." He offered Castiel a smile and slapped his arm in one of those peculiar affectionate gestures to which he was prone. "C'mon, Cas, you really think I'm gonna let you screw this up?"

"No," he replied with a half-smile of ... what ... of relief.

Dean drove them to the store on the way back to Bobby's place and ran in to buy honey, roses, and diapers. There were never enough diapers, he often said in the last few days. Castiel waited in the car with the baby in the backseat. They couldn't take James in public places and expect people to ignore the fact that he had downy soft wings like a baby swan. Sometimes the light caught his feathers just right and the wings turned to a pearly texture. People wouldn't understand and that meant Castiel had to grow accustomed to hiding away his fledgling, which, though he didn't quite understand why, brought out territorial feelings in him. He was preemptively offended by the passing judgment from strangers on his fledgling.

"You didn't get asked whether you wanted me to raise you, did you?"

Of course he didn't. He was a newborn infant. Castiel sighed and touched James' hand. The chubby softness of tiny fingers curled around his ring finger and the anxiety, the fear of failure drained away through the bottom of his feet. Having a family, he realized, that intended to bring him up in freedom and independent thought with a desire for goodness in the world was the best thing for him. They were the best chance James had at making a difference - a real difference - when he grew into a mature angel.

"We may not be able to depend on Dean's kindness for long," he confided in the baby. "He's a human man and he has to live his own life. But I'm always going to be your ... your father." The relationship between fledglings and mature angels wasn't traditionally parental, but maybe that was part of what was broken upstairs. Fledglings were trained, not loved. "We're making this up as we go along, James."

Soon Dean's tall, dark shape cut through the parking lot with bags in each hand. He slung himself into the front seat behind the wheel and passed the bags to the passenger seat.

"I got some extra stuff for the rugrat," he announced as he pulled out of the parking space.

"You didn't have to do that, Dean," replied Castiel quietly.

"Sure I did. It's not cool to keep kids cooped up in the house all the time but this one has wings, so I've been thinking about what we can do about that. I think I figured out how to hide 'em."

"I don't want you to feel responsible for us." Castiel's voice remained soft but he pressed his point. It wasn't good to get attached to this.

Green eyes peered at him through the rear view mirror. "I wanna help, Cas. You're important to me, so the rugrat is too." He shrugged as he managed the steering wheel. "I like knowing you're in the house when I get up in the mornings. We're good, okay?"

"Okay," replied Castiel after a moment.

Back at Bobby's place, Dean pulled around back in the car lot. They spotted Sam carting a rolled up carpet out to one of the bigger dumpsters. He hauled the thing on his shoulder but struggled with the weight despite his overgrown size. As he flung it into the dumpster, he turned toward the car, sweat darkening a V-shape down his shirt collar.

"You won't believe this," he shouted over the distance. "Bobby's got me cleaning out a whole room upstairs for the kid."

Laughing, Dean grabbed the bags out of the Impala. "You telling me that grumpy old fart's finally cool with a baby in the house?"

"I can't believe how much shit he can cram in one room," added Sam.

Castiel cringed inwardly as he leaned into the backseat and fumbled with flipping the bar up over the car seat. He found the correct release button finally but he wondered, as he hooked James' car seat over his arm, if Bobby was really accepting of the baby invading his home or if he just admitted defeat. Bobby Singer raised his boys already in Castiel's mind. He never really considered John Winchester an ideal father, though he was an excellent hunter in his day. Bobby gave Sam and Dean room to be children though. He put in his time in with children and Castiel's sense of imposing resurfaced again.

Sensing his thoughts as they always did with each other, Dean faced him quietly and said, "Don't worry 'bout it. In another week or two, he'll be calling James an idgit and reading him bedtime stories out of lore books. He's just been alone for a long time. Cleaning out a room though?" Dean bent to the car seat. "You're stuck with us now, kid."

"You're certain this is acceptable for Bobby?" Castiel asked.

"Yep. Just takes him a minute to come around," assured Dean. "You let me handle him if he gives you any grief."

"What if I make James' second name Robert?" suggested Castiel as he followed Dean into the kitchen door. "Angels don't have two names but he's mine, not Heaven's anymore."

"That'll stroke his ego for sure. Okay, gimme the rugrat. Let's try hiding those wings."

Dean peeled away the blanket he'd wrapped around James' head and spread it on the dining table. He took the infant from the car seat then and laid him out, straightening his pale blue onesie. From one of the plastic shopping bags, Dean produced three different miniature hoodies, though they all seemed a bit too big for James. Dark blue, red, and green gave the infant bold colors for what Castiel guessed Dean hoped would grow into a bold personality. Castiel watched over the proceedings like a hawk as Dean dressed James in the dark blue hoodie. Then he realized the purpose. The hoodies were a little too big so that Dean could feed each wing comfortably into each armhole along with his arms.

"Yes," Dean declared victoriously to himself as he zipped the hoodie halfway. He plucked James off the table and turned the baby around against his chest so he sat on his forearm with the other hand wrapped around his tummy. "Check it out. Can't tell he's got wings."

It brought a smile to Castiel's mouth as he inspected the disguise. "Dean, thank you," he offered sincerely. "I think you're better at this than I am."

"Nah," replied Dean. "You figure it out as you go. Sink or swim."

"You're going to be a wonderful father, Dean," he said quietly.

Something in Dean stiffened, probably not perceptible to human eyes, but Castiel watched the color of his soul dim a little.

"Some of us aren't meant for that," Dean said eventually.

"Tear up the script. Fate is obsolete these days. You taught me that years ago and that's why James now has a chance for freedom. There is nothing we can't do now."

"We?" Dean's eyes lifted from the baby perched on his arm.

"You. I mean you." Dryness spread through his vessel's throat suddenly and heat flashed on his face. Quickly, he changed the subject. "James needs a bottle. I'll prepare it. I'm sure you'd rather be with Sam."

"Yeah, okay," said Dean in a lower, contemplative tone as he passed James over to Castiel. "He could use a hand, I guess."

Chapter Text

"Now what?" asked Sam, completely baffled. He sat at the kitchen table trying to hold James in hands so awkwardly huge that it bordered on hilarious.

Dean glanced over his shoulder, unable to turn away from frying eggs. "You holding his head?" He pointed a spatula at his brother.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "But he's just … floppy."

"Kids are like jellyfish at that age, you idjit. They can't hold up nothin' themselves," Bobby said in his low grumble as he passed through the kitchen in search of a cup of coffee. "Grab his head and his butt and you probably won't kill him."

Castiel stiffened with Bobby's sudden presence in the kitchen. He searched every syllable for hatred or resentment in his usual gruff mannerisms. The second he thought Bobby began to hate him, he intended to take James and leave for the good of everyone. It hadn't happened yet but that didn't let Castiel relax much. He nodded a polite good morning and turned the page in Leaves Of Grass. Dean let him read it as long as he didn't tell anybody it belonged to him.

"So … the kid's happy like this? Just sitting here looking around?" pressed Sam in the midst of insecurity.

"His name is James," said Castiel.

Poor Sam looked terrified that he might get smited if he broke the fledgling or offended the fledgling's father. "Right. Sorry. James. James Robert. I know his name."

"You're good," said Dean over the greasy pops of frying eggs. "He likes to check out what we're doing."

"Cas, did Gabriel really raise you?" Bobby asked as he leaned back against the counter. "Dean told me but I couldn't believe it. You're just so … responsible. And he's so … not."

"Yes, Gabriel raised me," Castiel admitted with a conversational nod. "It wasn't paternal bond the way I have with James. I would compare it more with an older brother raising a younger one, like Dean did with Sam. Gabriel felt more than he wanted other angels to see because he was an archangel - a leader - but Lucifer's war tore his heart to pieces. I suppose you could say I actually inherited his heart but I think our fundamental difference was he hid when his heart broke, whereas I fight when mine breaks."

"Sounds vaguely familiar," Bobby grunted, passing a glance between Sam and Dean.

The bundle in Sam's arms inserted himself into the conversation with the beginnings of fussy grunts. Sam sucked in a fearful breath and attempted to adjust the infant but his fussy grunts intensified into wails peeling through the kitchen. As James did whenever he cried, the pearly white wings flapped wildly, striking Sam’s arm and chest.

"Crap, what'd I do?" Sam asked, panicked.

"Nothing. He's just hungry," said Dean. "Gotta listen to the different kinds of crying, Sammy. The deeper crying from his gut is hunger. Higher in his chest is a poopy diaper. Really high-pitched screeching is fear or physical pain."

"Well, aren't you just Mister Rogers?" Bobby sassed.

"Bite me, Grandpa," Dean sassed back without missing a beat.

"Dean has been a great help to me," commented Castiel, feeling the need to raise a quiet defense.

Standing, Castiel crossed the kitchen to the cabinet where he kept the infant food. He was so accustomed to making bottles in just a week that his body seemed to do it without conscious thought. And then without a word, Bobby appeared at his side holding an empty baby bottle he'd plucked from the dishwasher. He held it out to Castiel, who stared back in disbelief since Bobby had been pretending there was no stolen fledgling in his house for days. They met eyes and something in Bobby conveyed the acceptance that Castiel needed.

"Thank you, Bobby," he said, taking the clean bottle.

"Sure thing, boy." There was nothing else that needed to be said about it. Bobby receded back to his perch near the kitchen sink and Castiel thought he saw Dean smile at the old man.

Castiel measured out the powdery formula and the crushed rose petals he’d been saving in a mason jar. With a spoonful of thick honey, he filled the bottle under the faucet. The mixture thinned out in the heat of the microwave and then he twisted on the lid. He shook the bottle with the nipple pinched over so it wouldn't spill as he approached Sam struggling with the wriggling, unhappy fledgling.

"You should eat the breakfast Dean prepared. I'll feed James." Castiel reached across the table as Sam passed over the squalling baby.

Sam watched with the interest of a scholar as Castiel sat down with James nestled in the crook of one arm. The fledgling angel latched onto the bottle instantly and his crying silenced into tiny grunts of hunger. His round little chin flowed swiftly with suckling motions from the bottle that Castiel held for him. They studied each other, blue eyes meeting blue eyes, and Castiel felt a faint, pleased smile on his lips as he looked down at his own little fledgling.

Every two to four hours, Castiel repeated the process. It felt monotonous at times, but then, especially in the middle of the night when the house was silent, feeding James calmed him. Sometimes he thought maybe he could do it after all. He loved his child more than his own life already and it took him utterly by surprise.

"Geez, nobody eats that fast except Dean," said Sam in a laughing tone.

"He's a prodigy," Dean jokingly commented as he dished out breakfast. "Cas, you wanna try something?"

"I do not require food, Dean," he said.

"I know but maybe you wanna try it for fun sometimes."

Castiel caught a dribble of formula down James' chin with his finger. "Maybe dinner. If you get cheeseburgers. I could eat those again."

"Does James really drink honey and roses?" asked Sam in his never ending quest for knowledge.

Castiel nodded. "His grace is not fully formed. Honey and crushed rose petals nourish the development."

"Goes back to the Virgin Mary," chimed in Bobby between bites of bacon. "Lore says she's the first angel, the mother of all. Those things are associated with her. Little kid's got more history in those bottles than any other baby on the planet."

"Huh. Oughta check out the lore," Sam said more to himself than the rest of them.

*****

The little room in the northeast corner of the second floor slowly resembled a nursery as odds and ends were collected for James. One side of the room contained an arrangement of an old, overstuffed loveseat and a bookshelf for Castiel since he didn't actually require sleep. Dean brought in a television for one of the shelves, which was so appreciated that he nearly hugged the hunter. The room gave Castiel and James a place to retreat where he wouldn't feel so in the way.

And Dean had been sleeping in the neighboring room while Sam and Bobby occupied a pair of rooms across the hall. Sometimes he heard Dean rustling around through the wall. His sleep patterns weren't regular enough for a healthy human male, Castiel thought, but he noticed Dean pretended a lot for the benefit of the others. Maybe he didn't want Sam or Bobby to worry.

Castiel worried though. Aside from James, the hunter living under the same roof occupied his mind the most. The longer he remained in that house, the more twisted his feelings were about that man. Feelings at all weren't normal for an angel let alone the pleasant tugging in his abdomen when Dean played with James or fed him a bottle.

But it wasn't exclusive to feeling bonded through his fledgling. Two days before, Dean had been giving the Impala a tuneup and tracked grease and dirt through the kitchen. His t-shirt had been damp with sweat in places and sweat mixed with dark grease on his hands and face. Something about that stopped Castiel dead in his tracks from the other room, though Dean remained oblivious to the unexpected reaction. It only left Castiel's warm and twice as confused.

His mind meandered down that unclear jungle for the millionth time as he spread James out on the loveseat and changed his clothes. A green shirt and denim overalls got tossed into the laundry basket, ready to be replaced by soft fleece footie pajamas.

Castiel ripped back the diaper tabs and stopped at the sight of strange red, bumpy skin.

"Dean?" he called out.

In moments, bare feet padded down the hall and Dean's head popped in the doorway. He wore thin, baggy pajama pants and no shirt whatsoever, which distressed Castiel in that he momentarily lost focus on his fledgling.

"What's up?" asked Dean in the doorway.

"There is something wrong with his skin," Castiel replied as he lifted James' pudgy leg by the ankle and peered at his bottom.

Dean came into the room and casually leaned over the back of the loveseat for a peek at the little fledgling. "No big deal, Cas. Just a rashy butt. Happens all the time. Can't you just mojo your, you know, mojo and fix it for him?"

"No." Castiel shook his head. "I don't want James to become too dependent on grace as an easy way out of difficult circumstances. He'll appreciate and love humanity more if he understands the struggles of man firsthand. I want him to use his grace for the greater good, not everyday troubles."

"Okay, raising a tough kid. I can dig that," Dean said with a nod.

"How do human parents cure rashy butts in their young?"

Lines deepened around Dean's eyes with his low chuckling. "It's funny to hear you say rashy butts." He cleared his throat and controlled his amusement, though, as Castiel shot him an intolerant eye. "Right, diaper rash. You need that creamy white stuff for his butt. It's squirty from a tube about this big--" he approximated the size with his hands "--but I dunno what it's called. You get it in the baby aisle at the grocery store or the drugstore."

"Okay." Castiel stood from the loveseat. "Watch James for a minute."

"Wait. Cas?"

Though Dean couldn't see it, enormous black wings unfurled behind Castiel and he left Bobby's house in a burst of grace.

He reappeared in the next moment at the nearest drugstore, already closed for the night. Carefully, he cut between the aisles in the shadows of security lights, having disabled the cameras with a flick of his wrist. Breaking and entering? Maybe. But he had a fledgling angel baby with a rashy butt on his hands. It looked painful and he didn't want James to suffer all night.

Castiel found several tubes of white cream that Dean described but he had no idea which one worked the best. So he grabbed one of every brand in diaper rash cream. On his way out, he grabbed another package of diapers because, as Dean always said, there were never enough.

In another instant, Castiel landed in the northeast corner bedroom of Bobby's house again. Dean had a naked baby in his arm, slowly pacing the room.

"Did you steal half a dozen tubes of rashy butt cream and diapers?" Laughing, Dean put the fledgling down again. "You're becoming a real Winchester, Cas. Want me to do it?" He held out his hand for one of the tubes. "That one looks familiar. I think Lisa's sister liked that one best."

Kneeling on the floor, Dean worked on James' rashy butt while Castiel sat beside his fledgling. For a tough hunter, he certainly complained a lot about not having a "table thing to change diapers" - whatever that meant. Castiel merely sat quietly and watched Dean spread a layer of healing cream on the rash with his fingertips. It must have hurt James as his fussing grew into little bursts of real tears, but his unhappiness tapered off once Dean wrapped him up in a new diaper. Without missing a beat, he continued dressing the fledgling in his footie pajamas.

"I could have done that," Castiel said.

"It's cool." Shrugging, Dean got up and dumped the old diaper in the trashcan. "Cas, I gotta talk to you."

"All right. What about?"

"Sammy and I picked up a case tonight. Witchcraft shit going down in Iowa. Not too far away." He glanced at the baby angel on the loveseat gumming down one of his little fists. "We'd have to take off in the morning. I wanna make sure you're gonna be cool here with James for a few days 'til we get back."

Something in Castiel didn't like the shift in Dean's interaction with him, as if he wasn't capable of handling cases anymore with them. But he made the choice to kidnap a fledgling angel from Heaven. That choice meant his own need to help humans, especially the Winchesters, had to sit on the back burner until James was old enough to fend for himself. Guilt seeped into his chest, such a foreign feeling, as he peered down at his son - and James was his son in his mind. He felt guilty for wanting to hunt with Dean too.

"I'm still useful to you," Castiel said quietly.

Dean blinked. "Sure you are, Cas. I didn't say you weren't."

"I know." He stood and gathered up James in his arms. Slowly, he swayed as he ambled around the room trying to put him to sleep.

"Cas?" Dean's tone sounded patient enough but something fearful edged it.

"My choice to take this fledgling as my own child has affected everyone I know and I don't--"

"--You don't want us to forget that you're a badass hunter when you go with us. I know, Cas," interjected Dean evenly, nodding.

"I don't want us to be a burden either, or bring danger on this house."

Dean grabbed Castiel's sleeve and stopped his pacing long enough to make eye contact. "You love the rugrat?"

"Yes," replied Castiel without hesitation.

"Then he's part of this family. So are you. It's okay that you're sitting out on hunts for a while. It doesn't mean I'll forget how awesome you are in a fight or how much lore you know that I can't grasp on a good day." He waited for a moment to let it sink in for Castiel. "You guys aren't a burden. If you left, I'd be worried all the time about where you are and whether those dicks with wings found you. At least here, I trust Bobby to hold down the fort so I can do my job."

"You feel responsible for us." That burned internal fears that Castiel couldn't quite identify.

"So?" Dean's forehead lifted and he shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "Family's responsible for family. Comes with the territory."

Castiel felt himself holding onto the fledgling close to his chest, downy baby hair rubbing softly under his chin. James dozed on his collarbone as his miniature white wings drooped with sleepy relaxation. He thought about what Dean said but he never quite understood why he needed to keep the hunter at arm's length. He didn't know how to articulate it either.

The tone of Dean's voice softened in a way he'd never heard. "If you don't want me to go," he offered with a hand on his shoulder, "then I'll send Bobby with Sammy or something. Call another hunter."

"No, I want you to do your job. You save innocent people," said Castiel.

"You sure?"

"Yes, Dean." He gave a defined nod. "We'll be here when you return."

*****

Seven in the morning, like clockwork, James always wanted a clean diaper and a bottle. Castiel had to admire his fledgling's sense of routine and order despite only being a week old.

Just as James began fussing in his crib, Castiel closed Leaves Of Grass and Dean slipped into the room. He wore a brick red t-shirt with a flannel shirt of reds and browns with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. If he had a uniform as a hunter, that was it.

"Morning, Cas," he said, flashing a smile, as he crossed the floor to the crib under the window. "Hey, buddy. Early riser like Sammy, huh?"

"Have you got enough food for the drive?" Castiel asked, not really knowing how to do this - Dean leaving for a hunt without him. "You should take some water bottles in a cooler."

"Yeah, Sammy's loading up the car," he replied easily.

"Okay." Castiel nodded and fumbled with the book in his hand. "Do you want this back?"

Green eyes looked over at him from the crib. "No, you read it. I already read it like a dozen times. You keep it until you're done. I got a few other books in my room that you'll probably like too. Just, you know, keep it between us. Sammy and Bobby don't need to know about my stash."

"Of course, Dean." One day, Castiel wanted to find out why he developed such a secretive attitude about his brain.

He watched Dean lean into the dark wood crib and rub James on the tummy, his hand nearly as big as the fledgling angel's body. "Keep your dad out of trouble for me, okay buddy?"

Castiel had never heard himself referred to as a father before that moment. He didn't dare acknowledge it but a peculiar tingling warm sensation spread from his chest through his limbs. The sensation came over him so pleasantly that he bathed in it silently for a time as he held Dean's book and observed their interaction.

As Dean departed the room, he winked and smiled at Castiel with a pat on his shoulder. "Call me if you need anything."

"Be careful," replied Castiel.

"Where's the fun in that?" Dean's voice echoed in the hall.

Chapter Text

From behind the blackness of closed eyes, Castiel still saw the light of Bobby's soul as he approached the sofa in the front room. He lay quite still, stretched out over long, lumpy cushions, his head propped up on the sofa's arm. It wasn't a long enough sofa for all six feet of his vessel's frame, though, so he folded his knees up toward the ceiling. And he remained there with his hands neatly folded over his abdomen for twenty minutes of beautiful silence before Bobby found him.

"You actually asleep, boy?" he asked gruffly.

"I do not require sleep, Bobby," Castiel replied without opening his eyes. "James is having his nap, finally. I'm enjoying peace and quiet."

"Well, you wanna enjoy that peace and quiet without your dirty shoes on my couch?" He slugged Castiel's knee. "C'mon, did Gabriel raise you in a barn?"

That opened Castiel's eyes. "My apologies," he offered as he kicked off his boots to the floor without actually sitting up.

Bobby sank into his throne behind his desk over Castiel's head and out of sight. "Kid keepin' you on your toes, huh?" His tone sounded gentler then, as if Castiel kicking off his boots conveyed some unspoken form of respect for the old man's house.

"I had no conception that a simple diaper rash caused an infant such misery," Castiel said to the ceiling. "He cries every time he messes his diaper now."

"I guess it'll clear up in a day or two," Bobby ventured. His presence shifted and Castiel nearly turned around to find out why until the old man steered the conversation another way. "You sure you know what you're doing here? Stealing a fledgling angel? I don't guess the suits upstairs are gonna take the news like sunshine blowin' out their asses. You're gonna get evicted for this."

"I know," replied Castiel calmly. "Being 'evicted' doesn't matter to me as much as I expected it would. I'm not willing to perpetuate the vicious cycle of blind obedience and oppression. Not after everything I have been through with Dean, Sam, and you."

He heard the faintest scratching of Bobby rubbing his beard in deep contemplation. "Is this the only way?"

"Yes. My choices are few. I could raise my fledgling in Heaven and train him to obey every command without question no matter how ludicrous. I could give him back and let another angel raise him in the same cycle, which would still land me in trouble with the suits upstairs, as you call them. Or I could do what I know is right for my fledgling and raise him as my own child away from everything broken in our family."

"Hmm. Doesn't sound like much of a choice, I guess," Bobby conceded. "You know this ain't gonna be no cake walk though. Kids ain't supposed to care what you want. They're supposed to eat all your food, tear up your house, and break your heart. But you show up and do right by 'em anyway because they need baseball and movies and swift kicks in the pants when they screw up. Angel or human, a kid's a kid, not a soldier or a machine you can program for your own shit. You ready for that kind of commitment, Cas?"

"I am." What Bobby forgot was that Castiel saw the images behind his words and how he really spoke of informally adopting Dean and Sam, often arguing with John Winchester about letting them be boys. "I can learn baseball and movies and anything else that interests James. I only care that he grows into his grace with compassion and love for mankind."

"Good," agreed Bobby. "And what about Dean?"

Things just took a dangerous turn. "What about Dean exactly?"

"What exactly you expectin' outta him?" Bobby's shoes thumped on the desk as he crossed his ankles and leaned back in the squeaking chair.

"Nothing," Castiel replied, a bit too monotone.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"You servin' me bullshit and callin' it chocolate pie, boy?"

"I don't understand that reference." Castiel squinted at the ceiling. "But I keep telling Dean that I refuse to be a burden on this house or bring danger here, and I would leave in a second if I felt those things were happening, but Dean said he would worry too much if we left." He paused. "I don't want to hold Dean back from living his human life if that's what your tone implies. I'm distinctly aware every day that my presence here with James has affected everyone under this roof."

"Never mind that. I adopted these two boys and I never even wanted damn kids. They grew up heroes though." He paused too and the glass tinkling meant he swallowed a drink. "You're my boy as much as they are now. That makes the little grunt my grandson, I guess. So you ain't leavin' or I'll help Dean track your ass up to Heaven and back."

Castiel had no idea to respond to what he just heard. The idea that Bobby considered him a boy of his own ... nothing could have shocked the angel more than if God showed up in the room with them. He pushed himself upright again and looked back at the old man in his trucker hat. Upstairs, as if giving Castiel an easy out, James' wailing voice carried from their bedroom. He probably needed another diaper and another dab of rashy baby butt cream. Castiel shoved his feet back into his boots and heaved himself off the couch.

"Bobby..." he attempted on the way to the stairwell.

The old man waved a dismissive hand. "Hell, boy, don't get all sappy on me now. Lack of sap is one of your redeeming qualities."

Castiel nodded, feeling a bit awkward, yet completely at ease with his choices for the first time, and he climbed the stairs without another word.

"Bring that grunt down here for dinner," Bobby shouted upstairs. "I'm makin' chili. You're gonna eat too. No arguments!"

*****

Upstairs, Castiel just peeled off an old diaper when his pocket vibrated. He nearly forgot he even owned a cell phone since Dean and Sam were the only people who ever called him. He shoved the phone between his shoulder and his ear, freeing his hands for the diaper change. Multitasking, he realized, was becoming an important skill.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Cas," said Dean through the phone. "How's it going at home?"

He'd never used that phrase before. It threw Castiel for a moment.

"All is well here. Bobby…" He stopped short of explaining what just happened.

"Bobby what?"

"We had a discussion."

"Oh," replied Dean when Castiel didn't elaborate. "But everything's cool, right?"

"Yes, Dean. Everything's cool." Parroting Dean's colorful interpretation of the English language made Castiel smile against the phone as he carefully cleaned James with baby wipes.

He thought he heard Dean smile too. "How's the rugrat?"

"Well, James is thoroughly displeased with the experience of a diaper rash. It is fading but James has been crying a great deal. I believe the word you would use is grumpy." Castiel decided not to put on a clean diaper since his fledgling needed a bath as soon as the call ended.

"Poor little dude," Dean sighed on the other end.

"Are you unwell, Dean?" His voice edged on concern that he worked to contain. "You sound … different."

"I'm good," replied Dean in his automatic response. He paused, though, and rethought his answer. "The witch we're hunting. We've got her pretty well cornered. She's a hairdresser and she's killing her clients who don't have great moral track records. So today we searched the salon and found her stash of hex bags, you know? Her hex bags have the bones of human babies in them. Normally it wouldn't faze me at all but this time … I can't get it out of my head. It's bugging the crap outta me." He sighed again through the line and Castiel felt his discomfort all the way in Iowa. "I'm supposed to be catching a few hours of sleep now but I keep thinking about those bones. So I'm calling home instead."

There was that word again. Home. Castiel absently rubbed James' tummy as he listened to Dean unburden himself, but he actively suppressed a surge of warmth each time that word passed the hunter's lips.

"James is quite well, I assure you," Castiel said instead, rather quietly to convey his empathy. "He's safe. He's here with me now waiting for a bath, actually, and then Bobby's asked us to join him for dinner. He's forcing me consume chili tonight."

"Really…" Faintly, a smile passed through the phone line again. "Thanks, Cas."

"You're welcome, Dean. You must try to rest now. Keep your focus sharp on the case." Lack of sleep rarely affected Dean's ability to hunt with the best but Castiel somehow reacted differently to potential danger now.

"Yeah, okay. We should be back late tomorrow night," Dean replied. "Later."

"Goodbye, Dean." As Castiel pressed end on the cell phone, he and James looked at each other contemplatively for a long moment. "I think he may enjoy your company more than mine now. How do you like that?"

*****

As it turned out, chili tasted decent, although Castiel only initially sat down to please Bobby. And if he tasted it with a fully human tongue, he expected it would have been even better. He consumed the supper one-handed as he held James with the other.

Bobby finished his portion and dumped his bowl in the sink. Without any explanation, he disappeared through the cellar door and left Castiel wondering if that was the end of the evening. He considered retreating upstairs with his fledgling for his bedtime. Just as he stood, Bobby reappeared climbing up the stairwell. He propped a shallow, oblong basket with a pair of limp handles on the table.

"Got something you can use. Fold up a blanket in it and the little grunt can lay here so you have both your hands back," Bobby explained with a certain underlying sadness in his gravelly voice. "My wife got it from her mother as a wedding gift. Called it a Moses basket or something. Never got used or anything, so you know … You can have it."

Castiel understood the implications of Bobby digging out things that once belonged to his dead wife. He also knew that Bobby wouldn't feel comfortable with a big deal made out of the gesture.

"Thank you, Bobby," he said with a kind smile. "This will be very useful."

"No problem, boy," the old man replied with a nod and a masculine slap on the shoulder.

*****

It took a solid two hours to coax James into sleep that night. The long, central hallway upstairs between bedrooms served as a good runway for Castiel as he paced up and down with the fussy angel baby wriggling in his arms. Temptation to touch James through his grace and end his diaper rash suffering wore Castiel's frazzled nerves, but he reminded himself repeatedly that he wanted his fledgling to avoid dependence on their inherited powers.

As he finally went limp with sleep over Castiel's arm, he sighed of relief in not caving to temptation. It was for James' own good. Suffering was temporary, he thought as he carefully put his little one in the crib and covered him with a blanket.

"Blessings on your young life," he whispered, swiping a soft hand over the sleeping infant's hair, just the way he said every night.

Castiel unfolded his long frame on his much too small loveseat, head resting on one arm and legs dangling over the other arm. He never gave much thought to why humans appeared to be so lazy before, but one of his new pleasures in that life involved stretching and unfolding his vessel each night.

He leaned over to his bookshelf and took Leaves Of Grass again. Though he finished reading the poems the previous morning, he started again. At least until Dean returned. Human eyes couldn't perceive the energy marks left behind by Dean's fingers as he turned the pages, or followed along each line with his finger. Soft white shimmer, the shade of his soul, favored some of the pages over others. So, it seemed, Dean had his favorite Whitman poems. Those were the ones Castiel revisited now that the entire volume passed under his eye.

But as Castiel immersed himself in human relaxation, tingling between his shoulderblades stopped him. He analyzed it and thought perhaps his vessel had a simple itch. He turned the page in his book and ignored it until the tingling sharpened into an electrical buzz along the bones of his wings. That, he could not ignore.

Another angel entered the house.

All sense of relaxation stiffened Castiel's vessel again as he sat upright, alert and mind racing three or four times faster than any human. He reached down and pulled off his shoes. Silent as the passing night, he avoided the creaking boards that might alert the other angel that he knew something was amiss. He gathered up his fledgling first and crossed the hall without making a sound. The light seeping from under Bobby's door meant he was still awake but Castiel couldn't open the door without that light alerting the angel downstairs. A flick of his mind turned it off, allowing him to enter undetected.

Bobby knew better than to gripe at Castiel as he handed over the fledgling without explanation. The old man handled James in awkward hands and met Castiel's eyes with a wide, questioning expression.

"Do not let go. Do not make a sound," Castiel whispered so quietly that Bobby struggled to hear him at all.

Dumbly, the old man nodded.

Castiel disappeared into the shadows, knowing James' best shot at protection was Bobby should this go wrong. His back hugged the wall as he crept down the stairwell without making a sound. The female vessel of that intruder poked around the kitchen. Either she pretended that she didn't know he was there or she was truly oblivious.

His angel sword dropped through the sleeve of his trenchcoat, gripped tightly in his fist, ready. Feline smoothness brought him through the hall, into the front room divided from the kitchen by a wide, open doorway. The intruding angel, she seemed to search for signs of an infant in the house as she withdrew a baby bottle from the dishwasher and examined it like she had never seen one before. Looks were deceiving though. She searched for lingering traces of grace from James' mouth on a bottle nipple that she found in the sink.

Intense instincts to protect his young overcame Castiel as his eyes narrowed and his shoulders squared, waiting in a dark corner for the opportunity to strike. He couldn't allow himself the luxury of feeling remorse for what he had to do. The love for his child outweighed that.

She turned her back to him. And like a viper striking, Castiel flipped his angel sword backwards and snatched the angel from behind around her throat. The angel screeched. Castiel's mind dissolved into the sort of crystal clarity that brought his brain and body into perfect union for the defense of his child. He watched himself clamp a hand over her vessel's nose and mouth, feeling nothing as she fought him through suffocation.

An angel blade dropped into her own hand and she jammed the tip backwards into Castiel's thigh. Yet, a stab wound that should have killed him merely wounded his vessel. She lacked the authority to be there, to kill him. Someone knew she would come sniffing around and disabled the angelic power of her sword.

No matter. Castiel's own sword raised high above and snapped with an emotionless plunge into her chest. The explosion of her grace light erupted from her vessel, filling the kitchen with pure white that would have burned away delicate human eyes. The angel intruder dropped to the floor, dead. Wings burned into Bobby's wall and across his linoleum floor from the slumped, motionless body. Castiel crouched, finally feeling pain and blood spilling from his thigh along with the glow of his own light, and he snatched his blade from her chest with a sickening suction pop.

"Farewell, sister," he mumbled without emotion.

Castiel's thigh throbbed with each step as he dragged himself upstairs again. He needed his fledgling. He needed to physically see that James was unharmed.

"Bobby?" he called hoarsely as he limped to the bedroom. He flipped a hand and every light upstairs switched on simultaneously, flooding the rooms with light. The pain radiating from his thigh and blood darkening his pants angered him more than anything. He gripped the wall with each limping step.

Finally, he crossed into Bobby's bedroom and found the old man clutching James to his chest. The infant woke in all the sudden noise but only gurgled and cooed a drooly blob on Bobby's white t-shirt.

"What the hell, Cas? We running or fighting?"

"Neither. It's over. She's dead." Breathing heavily, Castiel sat on the bed. "Give me my son." He'd never used that word before but spilling blood and grace to protect the fledgling earned him the right. He held out his arms.

Bobby hesitated at the sight of Castiel's bloody wound protruding a faint shaft of his light. He handed over James though, not knowing what else to do.

"Hell of a battle wound you got there," he muttered. "You gonna fix that mess or you gonna keep bleeding on my bed."

The world slowed once Castiel got his son back. He allowed himself a moment to embrace the infant in the crook of his neck and inhale the sweet scent so intrinsic to new babies. James' small fist grabbed onto Castiel's tie and folded his fat little arm to his mouth, gumming down a bit of blue fabric.

"Cas?" repeated Bobby.

"We were found because the angel tracked my scent like a beast," Castiel replied without diverting attention from his fledgling. "I flew to a drugstore the day before Dean left. James needed rash cream and I spread my wings and I flew. Whenever an angel uses powers, it leaves an imprint of grace on the atmosphere that can be tracked by Heaven. I was stupid and careless." He caressed his fledgling's silky wing, the feathers passing between his fingers. "I led the angel here simply by doing what's instinctive to my kind. But that's done now."

"What are you sayin'? No more mojo?" Bobby's face wrinkled even deeper in disbelief.

"For the good of my son, I can no longer touch my own grace. At least until it's safe."

It took a moment for Bobby to absorb it but he cleared his throat and nodded eventually. "You're probably right. Okay." He scratched at his beard again, a habit he seemed to fall into with difficult conversations. "Well, I guess ... I guess sit here then. Gotta clean up that leg so you quit bleedin' all over my room. Stay put, boy."

Bobby left Castiel alone in the bedroom with his fledgling and his entirely too mortal, bloody thigh. Absently, he thought they'd have to burn the body in the morning.

Chapter Text

"Her name was Cendriel. I didn't recognize her last night," said Castiel as he dragged the body by her leg.

Bobby hauled the other end of the body by her arms. "She ain't no friend now if she broke into my house for some baby snatching bullshit." He jerked his chin toward the hole in the ground. "Dump her legs that way."

"Cendriel never was a friend to me. When I was promoted to lead my garrison, it meant that she was passed over and she never let it go. Many of us prayed for her envy to fade with time but it blackened her grace. I don't think she came here under orders. The way she impaled the angel blade into my vessel - it was a clean shot and it should have killed me. Her sword was disabled without her knowing it, I believe."

The two of them shoveled dirt and rocks into the grave among dozens of rusted shells of abandoned cars. Bobby had decided earlier that burning the body would have attracted too much unwanted attention, so they buried the angel intruder together. As he worked, Castiel kept an eye on James lying in his Moses basket nearby on the hood of a car.

"So this Cendriel had it out for you," Bobby guessed with a mighty heave of his shovel. "Sounds like somebody else upstairs is trying to help you though."

"Perhaps so," replied Castiel, grateful that the body disappeared under the dirt.

Squinting in the sunlight, Bobby hummed a low, thoughtful sound as he considered the situation. "You got any idea who?"

"Not a clue," he replied. He groaned and straightened up. "Forgive me, Bobby, but I must sit down for a moment. This vessel is strong but…"

"You'd have to be made of steel not to feel pain with that hack into your thigh," Bobby said. "Get the little grunt out of the sun. I'll finish up here."

*****

"How did you do this to yourself? I only looked away for a moment," Castiel muttered in exasperation as he mopped up baby formula from James' left wing. "Do you understand that honey sticks to feathers even if it's diluted by water and formula? It feels like glue."

Distracted by lions hunting in an organized pride on television, Castiel hadn't noticed when James pushed the bottle out of his mouth and squeezed the nipple in his little fist. Lines of formula squirted over his wing until his feathers stuck together and he smelled like roses, baby milk, and honey. Castiel wondered if he would be able to clean up the baby with just a towel or if the mess would require a full bath. Again.

James appeared rather pleased with himself as he folded his leg up against his body and gnawed on his toes. He watched Castiel with great interest and it seemed he wanted to smile but he didn't know how yet.

"Cas! The boys are back!" bellowed Bobby from downstairs, his voice mingling with the Impala's engine outside.

It may have been far beyond James' bedtime but he knew Dean would want to see him. Castiel wrapped up his fledgling in the blanket, hoping to mask the sticky, wet left wing. He took James with him downstairs, careful to hold onto the banister as he limped. His thigh ached with each step but he worked to conceal it from Dean as much as he could.

He didn't make it to the sofa before Sam and Dean barreled into the house. Immediately, the awareness of how dreadfully silent the house stood without them came over Castiel as they argued over a sporting event he didn't begin to understand.

"Hey, old man!" Dean yelled. "Brought more hunter helper. Hey, Cas."

"Hello, Dean." One arm held the baby securely to his chest and the other braced him against the wall. "Did you catch the witch?"

"Yeah, we got her," Sam replied.

Dean eyed Castiel suspiciously as he passed through the kitchen. And as his eyes dropped to the torn state of Castiel's pants with dried blood shining in the fabric, he knew. He just knew. In a way, Castiel felt some peculiar sense of relief as he lowered himself onto the sofa.

"What the hell happened?" Dean demanded in a sharpened, low voice.

"Don't worry. We handled it," offered Bobby as if he sensed a need to pacify the hunter.

"I'm asking Cas." His eyes shifted from Bobby to the former angel.

"An intruder got into this house last night. An angel. I found her examining the baby things in the kitchen and I killed her," Castiel explained from the sofa. He patted his fledgling on the bottom to keep him quiet in the tense room.

The wound on Castiel's thigh drew Dean's attention again. "Not before she tried to gank you, obviously," he said.

"I handled it, Dean."

"Did she see the rugrat?"

Castiel shook his head. "She never got close. I kept James with Bobby in his bedroom upstairs."

"The little grunt was safe. Everything's fine, boy." Bobby's words edged on impatience. He poured himself a drink and sat at his desk the way he did when he felt the need to act as patriarch of this family.

"You never thought to call me?" Dean said to Castiel, clearly offended. "You know the deal, Cas. Shit goes down with you or the kid, you call me! We talked about this!" He glanced around at Sam and Bobby, who, it seemed, he didn't want to hear those words. "Don't make me fuckin' explain it again. Not here."

"Dean, you were in Iowa hunting a witch. There was no time to consult you when that angel was in the kitchen searching for evidence of my son being here. There simply was no time to call you. I had to act."

The use of the phrase 'my son' twitched subtle muscles around Dean's jaw. Castiel read him as clearly as he read the words in the well-worn book upstairs. He felt excluded. Bigger than that, he felt too attached to James for his own comfort and he was more angry at himself than Castiel.

Sam attempted to smooth things over, saying, "The important thing is James and Cas are okay."

"Why didn't you heal yourself?" Dean probed further.

That brought a sigh out of Castiel. A rather human sound. "I can no longer touch my own grace if I am to keep James hidden and safe," he explained. "Flying to the drugstore the other night was how the angel found me. Each time grace is expended, it leaves a mark on the atmosphere."

"The bloodhounds picked up his scent," added Bobby.

"Even though my vessel was severely wounded, I cannot heal myself without the risk of being found by more angels," he continued.

"So you have to suffer like a human man," Dean surmised.

"Yes." He nodded.

Silence filled the room until the pressure threatened to crack glass. Dean searched Castiel's face and studied the unattended thigh wound. The longer he turned it over in his own mind, the more distress tightened his features. Worry and anger at himself always aged him faster than anything else. Castiel didn't know how to relieve his burdens.

"Fuck," Dean spat as he left the room and threw himself outside.

Sighing, Sam cautiously crossed into the living room from the kitchen. He popped open a bottle of Coke and seemed to consider the scene he'd just witnessed.

"He's not pissed at you, Cas," he offered kindly. "I see him get like this when he thinks he's failed at protecting me too."

Bobby grumbled in his seat and rubbed his eyes under the hat. "That boy's pissed Cas said 'my son' though. You see that?" He shook his head, looking toward the ceiling.

"I saw it," replied Sam, sipping Coke.

*****

Lounging in the cramped bedroom with Dean on the other side of the wall left Castiel rather uneasy. Once he got James to sleep, he bundled him in the Moses basket and took him out to the porch for warm late summer night air.

He could breathe. He didn't feel so trapped. So he put the basket on the porch close by and unfolded himself in the porch swing. The quiet music nature provided through the night felt wonderful and calming, and his fledgling never stirred.

A while later, something cold nudged his shoulder. Castiel opened his eyes and found Dean standing there holding out a beer bottle.

"If you're gonna be a man, might as well drink beer like a man too," he said softly.

Castiel took the chilly, damp glass bottle and swallowed a mouthful. His eyes followed Dean as he rounded the swing and sat down at the end by Castiel's feet. Wordlessly, he dropped one foot to the porch and drew up his other knee, making room for Dean to sit at the other end. Resting the cold bottle on his wounded thigh felt good. Beer had better uses than consuming, it seemed.

They sat in silence for a time. Dean alternated between gazing at the stars in the South Dakota sky, and peering at the sleeping fledgling angel tucked in the basket. Castiel didn't dare interrupt his scattered thoughts.

"Where'd you get that thing?" Dean peeled a finger away from his beer bottle and pointed at the basket.

"It was a gift from Bobby. His wife never had the opportunity to use it," replied Castiel quietly as to not wake James.

"Oh." Dean made a sour face as if he accidentally stumbled into a terrible conversation. He drifted into silence again.

"Were you injured in the hunt?" Castiel eventually asked, feeling the strangest need to make conversation.

"No."

"Good."

Silence again. The baby sighed heavily in his sleep, drawing both of their attention down to the basket on the porch.

"Look, Cas," began Dean, but then he stopped. After a moment, he began again. "I dunno why I got so pissed. I shoulda been here though. If anything happens and I'm not here…"

"I know you care for James," reassured Castiel. He peered down at Dean around his folded leg.

"That's … that's the thing. It's not just James." He nearly chugged his beer then, perhaps to occupy his mouth with something more pleasant. In time, he explained a little more. "James is important to me. I'd probably take a bullet for the rugrat, easy. But you're important to me too, Cas. I didn't like seeing that." He gestured at Castiel's thigh with his bottle. "I wanted to kill whoever hurt you like that. But she's already dead, no thanks to me."

"I see." Castiel didn't quite know what to say. It sounded a bit like humans admitting amorous emotions but he never could quite tell with Dean.

"Yeah," Dean mumbled. "I guess I … I care more than I thought."

English didn't offer the right words for Castiel. There was a lot he could have said in Enochian but Dean wouldn't have understood his native language. He felt the bond holding him to Dean deepen into something he could touch without the benefit of grace. Yet he didn't know how to decipher and sort through it, let alone offer an adequate response.

"Well," said Dean as he stood again, "night. Wake me up if you want a break from three a.m. feedings or something."

Castiel wanted to stop him. He wanted to touch him somehow. There had to be words but he couldn't find them. He watched Dean crouch and actually kiss James on the forehead in a show of affection that baffled Castiel, yet he wanted to see more of it. His child needed to know people could love him. And maybe Castiel needed to know it too.

The screen door opened and closed as Dean passed into the house again. He swallowed most of his beer by the time he hit the living room.

Chapter Text

"Okay, after the rinse cycle, you gotta jiggle this knob here. It’s an old washer. It needs reminders to keep working," Sam explained as he sorted through a pile of baby clothes in Bobby’s basement. "And you don’t wanna wash all these things together. Whites in one load. Darks in another load. Got it?"

"I understand, Sam," said Castiel. He committed the process to memory. Everything smelled like spit-up and formula, which was even worse with an angel’s heightened senses.

And he needed something to keep him busy while James napped. Running into Dean was only a matter of time in the same house but he’d been asleep for a solid eighteen hours last Castiel checked. Sam called it his hunter hangover. Sometimes Dean slept for two or three days straight after an intense hunt, as if his body and mind needed to replenish in that unconscious state. Castiel just didn’t want to run into him after enduring such a confusing conversation on the porch the night before.

"You sure you got this?" Sam asked.

"I didn’t think I could change diapers. I learned. I didn’t think I could make food for a fledgling. I learned. I really didn’t think I could stay in one place raising him. I’m learning." Castiel offered something resembling a reassuring smile, though he knew his smiles were always a little awkward. "I think I can handle washing clothes."

An acquiescing sort of smile brightened Sam’s eyes. He nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.” His presence shifted into something more serious. “Cas, you know you’re doing a great job. I wish…” He shook his head and dropped his eyes to the floor. “I wish my dad had been there for me with the day to day stuff the way you are with James. You’re pretty good at this dad thing even if it wasn’t what you planned. I don’t think I’d do this good with raising a kid by myself.”

"Thank you, Sam. That means a great deal to me," replied Castiel. "I’m not alone though. Bobby thinks of James as his grandson now. You’re teaching me to do laundry. Dean—" The word stopped Castiel short and he dumped the whites from the laundry basket into the washer.

Even though Sam was nearly tall enough to just sit down, he hopped up on the unused dryer. “Did something happen? You have another fight or something?”

"No." That didn’t quite seem accurate since he still dreaded seeing Dean, but he shook his head. "I believe he tried to apologize last night. I’m uncertain about human subtlety in these situations."

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, apologizing is a subtle thing with him. At least he tried. That’s a pretty big deal.”

"But I don’t understand why caring about James and me makes him angry and makes him yell at me. I can tolerate anything. I would simply prefer understanding the reasons." He measured out the right amount of detergent.

"That’s what he said?" Sam asked, brows arched.

"Yes, in so many words."

"Well," the younger brother said, clearing his throat in what Castiel took as discomfort, "I’ve sort of thought for a long time that he likes you."

"Of course he likes me. We’re very good friends." He squinted at Sam and stayed close to his first load of laundry as it went through the machine’s cycles.

"No, I mean…" The stammering phrases sent Sam into chuckles. "I think he has a thing for you but he’s not … I mean, Dean was never into guys so it’s gonna make him angry. I could see that." He nodded to himself as he arrived on a point that made sense to him. "Just, you know, go easy on him. He can’t help being a dick when he correctly identifies a feeling. He acts like feeling stuff is a disease. It’s not you. Understand?"

"I … I think so."

"You know what I mean by he has a thing for you, right?"

The phrase meant several different things in English and Castiel considered each of them the way he analyzed everything. “I believe you’re referring to an amorous attachment. You also said he’s ‘not into guys’ so I don’t quite understand. Of course, I have no gender but my vessel does and that is how both of you view me.”

"Well, without getting into the whole psychology of the Kinsey scale and fluid sexuality, let’s just say that sometimes these things just happen to people. You and my brother are close in ways that defy explanation, really. It’s not so shocking to me that he has a thing for you. It’s just getting harder for him to hide it now that you’re living with us, and you raising James makes him see you different somehow. So don’t think him storming around being a dick like yesterday was anything against you. He’s just pissed at himself."

Castiel understood better and he nodded. There wasn’t much he could say in response.

"You … think you might like him too?"

That was a loaded question if Castiel ever heard one. It was the kind of question that physically affected his vessel. Perspiration dampened his palms and he glanced at his own hands, confused by it.

Chuckling, Sam’s face lit up. “Oh man, you’re turning red. You do carry a torch for my brother!”

"Carry a what?" Castiel asked, squinting even harder.

*****

Avoiding Dean only lasted until dinner time. He shuffled into the kitchen in boxers and a t-shirt, bleary eyed and hair spiking out in every direction. Castiel couldn’t retreat upstairs with a bottle in the microwave either.

"Hey," Sam said as he stirred a can of stew simmering on the stove.

Dean grunted a greeting at his brother and quickly glanced at Castiel as well. “Really, Sammy? Canned food for dinner? Are we heathens?”

"Somebody had to cook up something while you’re in your hunter hangover," replied Sam with equal sarcasm.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and wandered aimlessly to the kitchen table. Leaning over the Moses basket, he smirked as James gurgled and cooed at him. The fledgling learned familiar faces a little more each day and, as if sending his father’s feelings, apparently, he cooed and gurgled more for Dean. And Dean let the fledgling grip his index finger, wiggling it with a small smile.

An abrupt hand squarely planted on the center of Castiel’s back and thrust him forward. He stumbled and lost balance, propelled across the floor toward Dean. He whipped around and saw Sam grinning back at him. Glaring, he awkwardly attempted to pass it off as nothing but carelessness.

"Hello, Dean," he muttered, loathing his awareness of being so awkward and having Sam shove him toward the object of so much confusion.

"How’s it going?" Dean replied casually. He too seemed to cover over a sense of awkwardness.

That required a response. All right. He could do that. “Sam taught me to do laundry today. He believes James has too few clothes.”

"Yeah, we washed everything the kid owns in two loads. I don’t know much but I think kids are just gonna get messier as they grow up," said Sam, and then his voice sharpened suggestively. "Maybe you oughta take them to buy some baby junk, Dean."

Castiel considered smiting Sam right there. He just knew what the younger brother was doing to them.

"Yeah, sure. We can do that," replied Dean with a nod. "I’m going back to bed. See you guys tomorrow."

On his way out of the kitchen again, carrying his water, Dean didn’t make eye contact with Castiel but he passed a hand over his upper arm. The smallest gesture passed through the angel with such a sense of relief and exhilaration at the same time. Dean unlocked the ability to feel inklings of emotion and raising James knocked open the ability to love. Now, part of him feared, those doors would never close again. If he could feel so intensely for James and also Dean, then he could feel any rejection or longing concerning the both of them. The bad had to come with the good. He didn’t know how well he would tolerate very human vulnerability.

But as he caught eyes with Sam, the younger Winchester grinned like an idiot. He seemed pleased with his efforts at playing Cupid.

Again, Castiel considered smiting him. He guessed maybe he was feeling something akin to mortification.

*****

James cried and cried. Endlessly. Castiel walked him up and down the upstairs hallway for a good hour before it even occurred to him that humans slept at that time of night. He turned, deciding to retreat downstairs before Bobby, Sam, or Dean kicked them outside.

"Cas?"

Too late. He turned again, the fledgling squalling on his shoulder, and saw Dean's sleepy head poke out of his bedroom doorway.

"My apologies, Dean. We're leaving. Go back to sleep," he said.

"I'm awake now. What's up with Squirt?" Dean shuffled into the hallway and he clearly couldn't be bothered with putting on a shirt or anything else beyond boxers.

Reflexively, Castiel trained his eyes anywhere except Dean approaching him. "I still don't understand this name you've given him. Squirt is a verb. I, well, I don't really know why he's so unhappy. He sounds like he's in pain but the diaper rash is gone and he's not ill. He won't go to sleep no matter what I do."

"Gimme the kid," offered Dean, wiggling his fingers in a come closer motion. He carefully gathered up James against his bare chest and pulled the baby blanket back from his body. "Did he eat?"

"Yes," replied Castiel. "Two and a half ounces an hour ago."

"Did he burp?"

Castiel's eyes turned to one side as he thought about it.

"That's your problem. Probably got a good burp stuck in there. It hurts his gut." Dean walked James back into his bedroom and talked to him in a low, gentle voice one would never expect from a hunter.

Castiel hesitantly followed. He'd never been invited into the sanctuary of Dean's bedroom but he wasn't going to leave his child to be cared for by someone else either. The room looked far more tidy and orderly than he expected with a large bed as the focal point and a soundless television casting blue light on the walls. A bookshelf stood off to the side as well. He itched to look through the volumes, to pick through Dean's mind.

Dean folded one leg under him and let the other dangle to the floor as he sat on the bed. He spread James' wriggling, tightening body out on his blanket, still talking to him in that calming voice.

One large hand covered the fledgling's stomach through his footie pajamas and massaged purposeful circles around his abdomen. They both seemed to tune out the baby's incessant crying as Dean focused on that peculiar massaging and Castiel focused on Dean caring for his child without complaint.

A few minutes passed with no change in James' mood until...

Buuuuurp.

"Hey, there you go! Awesome bass to that one, Squirt," said Dean in a triumphant voice, his face lighting up with an amused grin.

Just as quickly, the crying settled into whimpers and those whimpers calmed into a rather content fledgling. His tiny body stretched. Even his fluffy white wings stretched outward from his body as if it had been quite the ordeal. His tension let go soon as if he hadn't been upset at all.

"What did you do to him?" Castiel questioned in astonishment.

Dean's eyes met his across the room, hesitant in the shadows, as if he stumbled onto a secret. Wordlessly, he leaned over the side and groped around under his bed until he produced a well-worn book, which he handed up to Castiel without looking at him. The book had a rather happy looking human infant on the cover and he realized it was some sort of instruction guide about the first year of life. Little torn pieces of paper poked out from the top as Dean had been bookmarking specific passages. He'd been keeping hidden under his bed rather than on the bookshelf with the other titles.

"Gassy guts happen to over seventy percent of newborn babies," explained Dean quietly as if he was a hormonal kid explaining why he got caught with Playboy under his bed. "He's better now. No big deal."

There was a lot Castiel wanted to say but his tongue tangled up in his throat when he tried. Believing Dean might care that much about his fledgling son to read a book about infant care gave him hope. And hope was a dangerous prospect. It both comforted him and frightened him all at once because it meant the fall would be all the more painful when Dean inevitably left or told Castiel to get his own life.

But an impulse propelled Castiel to Dean's bedside. He put the book on his nightstand, freeing his hands, and lightly gripped Dean's shoulders. Just as lightly, he bent and pressed his lips to the hunter's cheek. Saying nothing let him soak in that moment before the rejection arrived. Had he been a braver angel, a better angel, maybe he would have gone for Dean's lips, but his cheek seemed safer. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Sam cheering him on.

Castiel pulled away before Dean could really protest, yet the hunter merely tracked him with his eyes, not saying a thing. He wrapped up James in his blanket again, afraid to look at Dean after what he'd done, and carried him to the door.

"Good night, Dean," he said quietly. "And thank you."

Chapter Text

It went better than he expected. Castiel tied a towel around his waist and winced in ever-present pain as he came to the bathroom mirror. He wiped the glass clean of steam and peered at his reflection.

Not utilizing his grace made everything so cumbersome and time consuming, especially the care of the human vessel. Dean had forced him into the shower, saying he couldn’t leave that leg untreated anymore if he wasn’t going to heal himself. And not maintaining the vessel with grace left quite a beard sprouting over his face too. Dean left a razor and shaving cream on the bathroom counter. He must have done it while Castiel was in the shower, a thought that left him oddly warm and fidgety.

It took longer than he anticipated to figure out the mechanism of facial hair removal. So long, in fact, that leaving James with Sam and Dean so long made him want to go check on his boy. He decided just as quickly that he was being ridiculous though. The baby was fine, he scolded himself, and finished shaving. The smoothness of his face, save a few nicks, did look remarkably cleaner than the beard. He wasn’t prone to vanity in the slightest but he preferred looking neat and orderly.

Dean left new clothes folded on the toilet seat too, it seemed. He’d threatened to burn Castiel’s suit but the angel didn’t believe it until he saw the jeans and t-shirt there. And on closer inspection, he realized they weren’t new clothes. They were Dean’s very own. The black t-shirt smelled like him and Castiel’s stomach lurched in a peculiar way as he pulled it over his head. The underwear was much tighter than Jimmy Novak’s baggy boxers too. He looked at his reflection once more on the way out of the bathroom, completely encapsulated by all things Dean.

Again, he scolded himself for being ridiculous.

Sam clearly had a point about Castiel harboring an amorous attachment to his older brother.

Downstairs, Castiel found Bobby seated at his desk thumbing through newspapers for potential cases. Dean and Sam sat cross-legged on the floor with the fledgling baby lying on a blanket between them. Castiel tilted his head at the sight of James on his stomach. His undeveloped neck muscles struggled to raise his head and his wings freely curled and rolled with pearly white iridescence in the late morning sunlight through the window.

"Looking good, Cas!" hooted Sam with a slap on Dean’s upper arm. "Doesn’t he look great?"

"Yeah, awesome," mumbled Dean, looking up at the angel from the floor. He smiled faintly. "Looks like you didn’t butcher your face too bad either. Feel better?"

"Actually, yes. I didn’t know showers could be so pleasant," Castiel said truthfully.

Bobby turned a page and added, “Wait ‘til you try bubble baths, boy.”

Three sets of eyes stared at the old man in disbelief.

"Oh, don’t act like you two idjits ain’t never tried it," he said through a soured face.

Radiating pain forced Castiel to grip the back of a chair and support his weight against it. Temptation to heal himself stalked him but he couldn’t risk expending grace on the atmosphere and leading more angels to his fledgling.

"What are you doing with James?" Castiel inquired.

"Tummy time," replied Dean as he rubbed the baby’s back. "It’s supposed to help the gassy gut thing and get him to learn to hold his head up over time too."

"How do you even know this stuff?" Sam asked. His face twisted in incredulity with a hint of fear as if not knowing every minute detail about his brother was the worst possible insecurity. "Have you got secret love children out there that we don’t know about? Or are you running a daycare as a hobby?"

"Just helping Cas," replied Dean quietly. He peered at his brother in a silent warning not to push the subject any further.

The exchange baffled Castiel. He found himself wondering why Dean didn’t want anyone to know the strength of his intelligence and why he hid his voracious appetite for books. The bigger question hit him like a bullet just then. Why, if Dean kept it all secret, did he allow Castiel to know those things about him? Not only did he show Castiel his mind but he shared books with him too. He felt his skin flush with the possibilities.

"C’mon, Cas," suggested Dean as he pushed himself up off the floor. "Let’s go clean up your leg."

Sam passed a glance Castiel’s way with a diluted sense of a smile. “I’ll watch the kid for a little bit.”

"Are you certain, Sam?" He remembered how awkward and precarious Sam had been the last time he attempted to hold the baby.

"Hell, it ain’t a great mystery. It’s a baby with wings. If he flies off, Sam'll just catch him in a butterfly net. We got it, Cas. Go patch up that leg before you collapse and can’t do anything useful," Bobby grumbled over his newspaper.

As Dean headed to the stairway, he threw a look back at his brother and noted, “Tummy time’s over in ten minutes.”

"Please come for me if he cries," Castiel added, suddenly anxious about trusting other people to care for his fledgling.

"We got it!" Sam and Bobby barked in unison.

Castiel followed Dean upstairs and into his sanctuary again, which somehow retained its shadowy mystery even in daylight. He rejected bright sunlight in his personal space as if he didn’t deserve to witness something beautiful and nurturing to the earth. The hunter bent to a plastic tub stored on the bottom of one of his shelves and pulled out various first aid items. Castiel noticed a bandage roll and some sort of liquid medication.

"You washed that leg pretty good, right? Soap and hot water?"

"Yes, Dean. Your instructions were quite detailed," Castiel replied.

"Okay, cool. Drop trou and park it."

"Pardon me?"

Dean’s bright green eyes flickered to Castiel’s face, suddenly realizing what he said. “Well… I… I have to wrap up the wound. Can’t do that through jeans. I mean… you’re wearing underwear, right? So it’s no big deal. Just do it.”

"I am." He wasn’t sure why but he avoided looking at Dean as he unzipped his jeans and pushed them down to the floor. He stepped out of them easily without shoes. And just as stiffly, he sat on the edge of the bed.

Dean seemed to avoid watching him disrobe as well. Why were humans so modest about their bodies? And why was Dean so tough about everything else, yet his face tinged with pink there in his sanctuary? More importantly, why did Castiel’s vessel keep flushing and going hot?

Sinking to his knees, Dean leaned over Castiel’s thigh and carefully studied the stab wound. It was three days old by then and starting to heal, Castiel guessed, but the flesh around it seemed red and swollen. No wonder he couldn’t walk without pain. Dean’s fingertips traced lines around the wound, making Castiel bite his lip unexpectedly. He didn’t see any medicinal reason for a tender touch like that. Perhaps Dean felt guilty and wanted to comfort the angel with silent affection. A hunter’s actions spoke much louder than his words.

"Might be a little infected," he said quietly, his tone shifting to something indistinguishable. "You sure you can’t heal yourself?"

"I can but I won’t," Castiel replied just as quietly.

Nodding, Dean tore the wrapper off the bandage roll. “Got it. I’ll do what I can. Can't stitch it up. It's been open too long. Not like you’re gonna die or anything but I wanna try to make it less painful for you. Must hurt like a bitch.”

"It hurts," the angel admitted, "but I hardly think about it with James needing me to look after him."

A silent piece of hesitation overtook Dean but he seemed to push himself out of it, saying, “Then I’ll look after you.”

"Dean—"

"—Don’t muck it up with a bunch of talking. Not right now." His eyes lifted to Castiel’s as he rubbed some kind of sticky medication into the wound. "I haven’t forgotten. Last night, I mean. Words aren’t my thing. You know that. So I don’t wanna talk about it right now, Cas, but…."

"…But?" Confused, Castiel’s head tilted.

"But…" he murmured.

Dean was right. Words weren’t his thing, as he put it, but actions were. He leaned up on his knees and stared inches from Castiel’s face as if trying to work up his courage. Wrinkles formed between his eyes, somewhat grieved, somewhat frustrated, until his hands abandoned Castiel’s thigh and stretched along his smooth-shaven jaw. He licked his lips, just a flash of his tongue, and the courage mounted as those lips pressed to Castiel’s parted mouth.

Time stood still for Castiel and he considered the possibility that he hallucinated the moment. Their eyes closed and shock gave way to languid exploration of each other’s kisses. Dean leaned against Castiel’s chest and the angel’s hands slowly crept along the strong shapes of his arms. Something white hot and tense took hold deep within Castiel as an addiction to the hunter simply refused to hide anymore.

Then, as if it never happened, Dean pulled away with a reluctant wet snap between their lips. He resumed working on Castiel’s thigh without so much as making eye contact or explaining why he kissed him. Indeed, words weren’t his thing, but the tender brushes of his fingers over Castiel’s skin as he wrapped gauze around his thigh told both of them that everything had changed.

So Castiel said nothing. He didn’t push him. In truth, he could have lived on that kiss for the rest of his existence if that was all he was ever to receive.

But the silence, the temptation got the better of the angel as Dean taped the bandage. He leaned into Dean's forehead for another kiss. The hunter stilled and tensed, but only for the smallest second, until Castiel's folded fingers grazed his cheek. Just slightly, he leaned into the touch.

"Watch for more swelling," Dean said in a haze as if he'd just woken up from a deep sleep. "We gotta get you, um, the ... pills ... antibiotics. You need antibiotics."

"All right," replied Castiel.

The haze broke by Dean's force of will and he stood. He cleaned up the mess without a word, without even acknowledging that Castiel sat on his bed.

"I gotta go slow," he murmured with his back turned.

"All right," Castiel said again. He rose from the bed and replaced his jeans over his bandaged leg.

But Dean continued in that quiet tone as if he didn't hear him. "It's not just us here, Cas. There's a kid to think about too. We just, you know, we gotta make sure this is right." He looked Castiel's way and clenched his jaw. "This is ... it's new. You're not--"

"--I'm not using a female vessel. I know," Castiel said with a nod.

"Yeah." Nodding lightly, Dean's eyes turned yielding but hooded with trepidation as well. "I do feel ... I mean ... You're..."

The discomfort on his face touched Castiel, not because he seemed afraid but because words weren't his thing. Yet there he was trying to use his words to put Castiel at ease. The angel smiled softly and cupped his cheek. "Dean, stop. I understand. We do have a more profound bond than anyone I've ever known but it isn't easy for you to redefine what you thought you were." His hand fell from Dean's face to a palm over his heart. "You asked to go slowly and that's what we will do."

Tension bled free of Dean's face. "Cool. Thanks." Though he appeared to brush the whole thing off on the surface as nothing important, the colors in his soul intensified like pouring gasoline on a bonfire. They were the colors of joy and enthusiasm.

Downstairs, Sam's voice reverberated through the house. "Cas!" he shouted. "How much of this honey stuff do you dump in a bottle?"

The humanness of Castiel rolling his eyes snowballed into a human chuckle. "He offered to watch James, not feed him," he said to Dean. "If he puts the bottle in the microwave without taking off the lid..."

"Sammy!" yelled Dean, laughing his way to the stairwell. "Put down the bottle and back away slowly!"

Chapter Text

Castiel thought Dean went to bed, but as he rounded the doorway into the stairwell hall, hands snatched his new black t-shirt and yanked him out of sight. Neither Sam nor Bobby noticed his sudden disappearance with a football game blaring in the living room.

"Were you waiting here for me?" whispered Castiel, astounded.

"You gotta check on the rugrat sometime," Dean whispered back. "You always do."

An arm gripped Castiel tightly around the waist, pulling him flush against the thickness of Dean's chest. He peered around the corner and, satisfied they were hidden from Bobby and Sam, touched Castiel's cheek and silently met his eyes. A kiss took the angel by surprise. He felt himself grinning into Dean's mouth, which pulled back the hunter's lips in a grin of his own. Their foreheads rested together as they shared a soft smile with Dean's fingers curling in Castiel's hair at the nape of his neck.

"Dean, I thought you wanted a slow progression," he murmured.

The hunter smirked. "I didn't say we're hopping into bed. Just saying good night is all." His smirk faded into thinly veiled insecurity. "Listen, Cas, I wanna keep this on lock down for a while. You gotta let me tell Sammy and Bobby on my own time."

"Of course, Dean." The angel nodded.

"Thanks." A shrug lifted his wide shoulders. "Sneaking around is fun."

"I wouldn't know," Castiel admitted.

That time, Dean tilted his head, parroting his angel. "You still haven't...?"

"When would I?" Attempting a bit of humor, he puffed out his chest with a cheeky smirk. "I'm a modern single father. I have no time for intercourse with diapers to change and bottles to wash."

"Okay, number one," Dean corrected, chuckling quietly, "don't call it intercourse. It's not that friggin medical if you're doing it right. Number two, you're not a single father. Not anymore. You're ... you know...." He turned his hand over as if trying to push the words out of his mouth.

"I'm with you," Castiel said, filling it in for him.

"That. Yeah. That."

"Want a beer?" Bobby asked Sam in the living room. His chair squeaked as he got up.

Panic streaked Dean's face, knowing they'd be spotted as soon as Bobby hit the kitchen doorway. "Shit," he cursed under his breath. Grabbing Castiel by the chin, he planted a hard, quick peck on his lips and bolted upstairs.

Okay, so sneaking around was, in fact, fun.

*****

Early morning hours when the sky blended from blue-gray to pinks and oranges somehow turned more lonely for Castiel. He never liked the extended commercials selling useless merchandise to humans in the hours before the morning news.

Now, knowing Dean did care for him in an amorous way, he fidgeted through the night. When James slept, he felt bored and useless, which allowed his mind to wander to the hunter sleeping in the next room. Very bizarre, the way he missed someone under the same roof. It struck him as peculiar, indeed, yet he watched the minutes tick by until Dean woke again.

As soon as the sun rose, Castiel heard Sam leave for his morning run. Not long afterward, the distinct rustling through the wall alerted him to Dean finally waking again. He jumped on his sofa just so Dean wouldn't see him fidgeting around the room.

The first thing Dean usually did, after shuffling to the bathroom, was to visit James. His affection for the fledgling grew by the day and Castiel didn't dare ask him why he so clearly loved James but didn't allow himself the idea of having his own children. It seemed strange but something in Castiel warned him against broaching that subject again.

He heard Dean approaching and quickly snatched a book to appear occupied, not waiting around for him.

"Mornin', Cas," he mumbled in passing through a lengthy yawn.

"Hello, Dean," the angel replied.

James gurgled at Dean as he leaned over the crib. He'd been awake for more than a half-hour but Castiel let him be as long as he didn't fuss. Picking up the baby every time he fussed or cried somehow seemed like the wrong thing to do, so Castiel hoped he could begin training some semblance of independence in him.

But Dean didn't babble at the baby. Instead, he straightened suddenly and said, "Uh... Cas?"

"Yes?"

"Have you looked at James yet?"

Castiel's brow furrowed. "No. He hasn't cried. What's wrong?"

As the angel dropped the book and approached, Dean stared at James as if he didn't know him. "All his hair fell out and grew in black overnight. Am I nuts or do you see that too?" He dropped the mechanism of the crib wall and leaned over to have a closer look. "You okay, buddy?" Then he fell silent for a moment until, "His eyes aren't blue anymore. They're ... green? What the hell?"

"Yes, I see it," replied Castiel, uncertain of how to explain.

Ever the hunter, Dean's suspicious eyes lifted to Castiel's face as his hand draped protectively over the fledgling's abdomen. "What is this? A spell? A curse?"

"No, nothing so sinister. He's imprinting." Castiel swept away lighter brown hair off the crib mattress and passed his fingers over his son's new black hair.

"What's that?" asked Dean, looking warily at James.

"I'm not certain of how it began or why, but fledgling angels sometimes take on the characteristics of whomever raises them. It's a manifestation of bonding that allows every other angel to know where the fledglings belong. My wings are black like this," he described as he lightly stroked James' head. "He imprinted what he sees most prominently in me. When he molts, his feathers might grow back dark like mine too. I suppose he truly knows I'm raising him."

"But your eyes are blue," Dean said.

"That's true," replied Castiel, nodding, and he looked over at Dean, "but your eyes are green."

The connection didn't spark in Dean's brain at first. He stared blankly at Castiel until he sucked in a breath and mumbled, "Oh..." as his gaze shifted to James. "So... you're saying he thinks--"

"--He's bonded to you too," Castiel said simply.

"Oh..." Dean said again.

Silence hung over the crib as James innocently flexed and folded his tiny hands as if they were the most fascinating things to ever exist. His footie pajamas featured green silhouettes of scattered dinosaurs on a white background and his pearly white wings absently curled and released. The two souls standing over him had never seen a manifestation of the fledgling's thoughts or personality until that morning. James only required two weeks of life to understand that Castiel and Dean raised him together, even if they didn't quite know it themselves.

"Dean?" beckoned Castiel cautiously. "Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"N-no," Dean stammered, but he made eye contact, which meant he answered truthfully. "Does it ... you know ... make you uncomfortable?"

Castiel's long hands gripped the baby around his chest and plucked him from the crib. "The truth?"

"The truth," Dean agreed.

"Looking at my son and seeing your eyes is going to be a great joy for me. I know I can trust you with his life." His words carried immeasurable weight, and he knew it, so he hoped to give a casual sense to it by going about the business of the morning with taking off the dinosaur pajamas and changing his diaper.

Dean remained lingering near the crib, thinking over the situation, Castiel guessed. The colors of his soul fluctuated with various insecurities and fears, yet the hues of contentment pushed them down before they flared beyond his control. Castiel busied himself with his fledgling as to not give Dean the impression of staring, but his soul's colors moved over him like liquid light and told the angel everything he needed to know. Dean was the sort of man who needed the freedom to arrive at conclusions on his own.

As Castiel tugged denim overalls over James' freshly diapered bottom, he felt Dean push himself away from the crib. The hunter approached wordlessly and his arm fell around the waistline of Castiel's jeans. He observed over the angel's shoulder.

"He looks like a farmer in those things," Dean commented with a teasing lilt in his voice.

And then Castiel knew everything was all right. He smiled. "Humans devoted to agriculture have diligent work ethics. There could be worse things for my son to emulate."

"How are we gonna explain this to Sammy and Bobby?"

"You carry him around more than they do. It's not an illogical leap to say he imprinted those in his company the most." Castiel turned his eyes to Dean lurking over his shoulder. "Don't worry, Dean. They don't have to know anything about us. Allow me to answer their questions."

Dean's brows lifted, caught between amusement and surprise. "You're gonna lie, Cas?"

"It's not exactly lying. James bonded and imprinted what he sees most prominently in you. That's the truth. I'm merely omitting what you and I are to one another now." He gathered up his fledgling on his shoulder and kissed Dean on the cheek. "People always lie when they really, really want something. Is that not what you taught me?"

"Do you listen to everything I say?"

"And things you don't say." Castiel smiled faintly as he left the room.

"What's that supposed to mean? Cas?" The voice trailed Castiel through the hall. "Have you been in my head? What have you seen? Cas!"

Apparently, if an angel spent enough time with a Winchester, their sense of humor and inherent teasing can imprint on that angel. Castiel smiled to the fledgling on his shoulder and wondered how long it would be before he learned to smile and laugh too.

Bobby met him at the bottom of the stairs and outstretched his hands as if he wanted the fledgling. "Cas, I was just coming up to get you. Some lady's on the porch. Says she's a friend of yours. I'm guessin' she's one of your kind. She's got one of these little grunts with her, 'cept I think she's got a little girl. Gimme the kid. I ain't gonna risk you walkin' out there into a trap with him."

"Of course," said Castiel with a nod, all sense of humor evaporating from his mind as he passed James into Bobby's hands.

"I'm going with you, Cas." The tone Dean adopted on the stairwell behind him turned so deep and predatory that Castiel knew arguing was a futile idea.

Castiel led the way to the front door where an angel paced back and forth with a fledgling close to James' age bundled in a pink and white quilt. The vessel she occupied wore crisp white capris and a blue floral tank top somewhat hidden by a mane of pale orange hair. He didn't recognize her vessel but he knew her wings towering over her head and sweeping the porch in dark blue. If angels were birds, Castiel was the raven and she was the peacock. Like James, her fledgling had wings of fluffy white with a pearly texture.

"Hael?"

"Castiel." She stared at him through wide, pale blue eyes. "It's true then. You've taken your fledgling from Heaven."

"You know her, Cas?" asked Dean, stalking behind them.

"Yes, Dean," he said with a nod conveying to stand down from the defensive posture. "This is Hael. Her angelic dominions are to inspire art, beauty, and kindness in mankind."

Dean nodded a greeting but his mouth remained stony and still. He wasn't ready to make niceties yet.

"I don't have anywhere to go," she told Castiel, panic flashing in her features. "They assigned my fledgling her purpose already. I can't do this to her. Not what they're demanding of us. Then I realized all too suddenly that you were right to take your fledgling and run. I've taken mine and I'm running too."

"What purpose did they give your kid?" Dean asked.

"Chaos. Disease." Hael swallowed back the vile words and shook her head. "I won't do this to her."

Dean's attention shifted to Castiel, questioning him in their specific way of silent communication.

"Angels of chaos exist to break mankind down so that other angels can come to the rescue and make things right. The design of it all is to work miracles of faith into mankind. Faith doesn't exist if man doesn't watch the bad become the good." He peered at the fledgling cradled in Hael's arms and considered the situation. "Were you followed?"

"No." She shook her head emphatically.

"You sure?" Dean interjected.

"I landed in Chicago. If they followed me, it was only that far. We took a bus to get here and I haven't touched my grace since. I don't think they have our trail."

"Good." Nodding, Dean seemed to relax a bit. "You don't touch your grace as long as you're here or you gotta go."

Hael agreed, perhaps out of desperation more than anything. "Castiel, there are others."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Six, including you. After word began to circulate that you ran with your fledgling--"

"--His name is James."

"James," she repeated, looking down to her own. "I'm calling her Evelyn. There are six of us who ran because you were brave enough to lead by example. We're tired, Castiel. We're weary of training more perfect soldiers for Heaven's regime when none of us had a choice in our destinies or what dominions we were given. You drew a line in the sand and said no more when you took James away from the oppression. Five others followed."

Stunned, Castiel and Dean looked at each other. A thousand thoughts passed between them in a second.

"Where are the others?" Castiel asked, his tone a little more demanding and aggressive than he intended.

"I don't know," she replied. "We didn't organize. We left one by one."

"They need to be found," Dean muttered closer to Castiel's ear.

"Yes, now," he agreed, mind already in motion.

"I'll warn Sammy and Bobby. Better make sure we've got a good defense going here," said Dean, his tone all business.

"What can I do?" Hael probed as if she feared doing wrong.

"Come inside for now," replied Castiel. "If our superiors find just one of us, the rest of us will fall like dominoes. I'm not concerned for myself but I must protect James, Evelyn, and the other four fledglings out there somewhere."

Castiel opened the door and ushered Hael with her fledgling into the house.

Chapter Text

"Do I look like I’m runnin’ an angel baby daycare here?" Bobby sneered in the kitchen. "I ain’t got room for all six runaway angels with six babies here!"

"Perhaps I should leave," murmured Hael fearfully as she slowly rose from the kitchen chair.

"No. Sit." Dean held out a palm, gesturing for her to sit again. He resumed arguing with Bobby. "I’m not saying bring all of them here. We don’t even know where they are yet. Hael just needs to stay here until we figure out our next move."

Sighing impatiently, Bobby rolled his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head. “Hell,” he muttered. “I’m too damn old to keep adopting all these stray kids and grandkids.” He looked over at Castiel in the doorway, lightly bouncing James on his arm. “Red here's the last one. Any more runaways show up on my porch, I’m sendin’ ‘em down to Motel 6. My house ain’t a stop on the Underground Railroad. You read me, boy?”

"I understand, Bobby. Thank you."

"Where we gonna put them?" Sam asked, leaning against the refrigerator.

As Castiel considered it, he switched James from one arm to the other. “Neither Hael nor I require sleep but James and Evelyn do. The fledglings can use the crib upstairs and Hael can use that room for her privacy. If I wish to relax, there’s a sofa just there in the living room.”

"There. Done." Dean nodded at the arrangement. "Cas gives up his room for a while."

A flicker of a glance passed between Dean and Castiel in that moment. Sharp red hues flooded his soul the way human skin blushed, yet his face never flinched. The light of a secretive idea reflected red in his soul, it seemed. Castiel lost track of time as he observed Dean turn over something in his mind that he didn’t want known.

"What?" Dean said.

"Nothing," Castiel stammered. It may have been Dean’s soul that blushed but Castiel felt that distinct hot red hue creep over his own face. He resisted the urge to dip into Dean’s brain to discover what flustered his soul that way.

"Idjits," Bobby mumbled under his breath.

*****

Castiel squinted. The intensity of Hael’s peacock blue wings faded in the late afternoon sunlight. Castiel noticed it as she sat on the sofa beneath the living room window discussing art with Sam. No one else could see her wings in that house but it didn’t seem right to him. Everything she said passed through his mind without settling anywhere as he tried to understand why she seemed so... faded.

"Are you an artist too?" Sam inquired.

"No. I inspire human artists but the very concept of creative expression requires the basic component of free will," she explained, visibly relaxing as she discussed a subject she thoroughly understood. "We never had free will. Angels, I mean. Not until Castiel began teaching us by his example. Think of art as a physical manifestation of your free will. You choose every brush stroke, every subject, every piece of clay, every musical note, every nuance of acting, dance, or singing. So my dominion is to inspire artists of every variety to touch their own free will and use it in creative expression."

"I never thought of art as a manifestation of free will," said Sam, stowing away that idea to investigate deeper later. "That blows my mind."

Hael’s spine bowed slightly the way a human stretched when suffering a back ache. Again, Castiel found himself tilting his head in confusion. Of course Sam would never notice such a thing since most humans shifted and stirred that way, but it signaled pain for an angel.

"Did you inspire any famous paintings?" continued Sam.

"All of them," Hael replied with a small, patient sort of smile. "I have every piece of art ever created by your species catalogued in my mind. It’s my job to know these things, as you might say."

"It’s not limited to man-made art either," added Castiel. He felt the need to contribute to the conversation before Sam noticed the way he stared at Hael. "She's responsible for beauty in nature as well. The Grand Canyon was her design and so were the Hawaiian islands. I remember how you gave such detail to the vegetation, the flowers, waterfalls, everything. Your focus was remarkable."

"One day I’d like to visit those places again. Our superiors thought if I was to inspire art and beauty in man, then some places in man’s world must fill them with wonder," she said. "The designs, I suppose, came from God but I put them into motion."

Muffled whimpering built into full crying upstairs and interrupted their conversation. Hael stood immediately and moved for the stairs.

"That’s Evelyn’s cry. We’ve been traveling and I haven’t had money to buy her food today," she said regretfully. "If I am to hide among mankind, I suppose I must find employment to provide for my fledgling."

"There are plenty of ingredients for fledgling food in the kitchen. Bring her and I’ll see to it that she is nourished properly," Castiel volunteered. He squirmed with discomfort inside with the thought of any fledgling going hungry.

Alone with Sam, finally, he wanted nothing more than to change the subject and analyze everything that happened with Dean. The younger brother knew he “carried a torch for Dean” as he’d put it. Castiel enjoyed the novelty of having a friend too. He nearly began that conversation but the promise he made to Dean about keeping them a secret stopped him. He couldn’t talk about their budding relationship but he could talk about his new emotions without giving Dean away.

"You’re staring, Cas," said Sam quietly.

"I’m sorry," Castiel replied. "My mind is unusually cluttered."

"Yeah, you’ve been off today. What's with Hael? Why are you staring at her so much?"

"Oh, you noticed after all." Sighing, Castiel considered exactly what he should say. "Something is wrong with her wings. The color is faded. Like when I washed James' red shirt and the color bled on everything else in the machine."

"What could cause that?"

"I don't know," Castiel replied, "but she's behaving as if she's in pain."

"Do angels get sick?"

"Not in the sense that you think. I'm uncertain. Perhaps her grace has been damaged somehow."

"Okay. Just talk to her when you're alone, you know? What else is wrong? You just haven't been right all day."

"I…" He leaned back in his chair. "I’ve been thinking about our conversation in the basement about my attachment to Dean."

Nodding, Sam’s face smoothed into something sympathetic.

"You’re right about it, Sam."

"I know," he said as he folded his hands together. "I think it’s pretty amazing. You weren’t designed to feel anything but you bonded so much with my brother that it broke a cement block in you and now you have all kinds of emotions. Am I right?"

"Yes." Castiel nodded.

Sam nodded too. “He’ll come around. If being around him taught you emotions, then it’s probably teaching him emotions too. You know him. He likes to pretend like nothing gets to him and he doesn’t want people to see him feeling anything.”

"I know." A smile threatened his lips.

"Word of advice. Take him a beer out there. Nothing puts him in a better mood when the Impala’s not working right than somebody bringing him a beer and letting him bitch about it."

That idea made Castiel sit more upright again. Sam just afforded him the excuse to spend a few minutes with Dean alone outside.

"Go on. Beer’s in the fridge. I’ll show Hael where the baby food is and help her with all that," Sam urged.

Castiel nodded, but he looked back as he reached the kitchen. "I won't be long. James must surely be awake if Evelyn cried in the crib with him. Come find me if he cries before I return."

"I can handle the kid. He's pretty laid back."

The angel felt bad that he couldn't tell his friend that everything had changed with Dean. He awkwardly gripped a cold bottle of beer in both hands, searching for something to say. "Sam, you're a wonderful friend." It didn't seem adequate but it would have to do.

"You are too, Cas." The younger Winchester smiled just as Hael's feet padded down the stairs.

Castiel escaped through the kitchen door before he had to explain why he never drank anything but held a beer in his hand. Although he remembered Hael, he never knew her intimately enough to confide his secrets the way he did with Sam and Dean. Very few angels understood what it meant to love a human with that kind of intensity and somehow it seemed too private, too sacred to share with her even if she was his sister. He simply wasn't ready to trust yet.

The Impala parked in the open gravel drive on the edge of Bobby's salvage yard. Dean's legs poked out from underneath the car and, as Castiel approached, metal clanked and he swore at the mechanism. The angel crouched in the gravel beside him.

"Dean, would you like a beer?" he asked the lower half of his body.

A hand gripped the side of the car and Dean slid out enough to squint through the sun at his face. Maybe he smiled or maybe the sun felt especially hot that day, but he brightened despite sweat and grease covering him from head to toe. Climbing out, he sat up and dragged his forearm across his forehead.

"Thanks," he said, taking the beer and popping it open.

Sam said he should let Dean complain about working on the car. He cleared his throat and casually asked, "Are you finding success in these automotive repairs?"

Chuckling, Dean shook his head, but Castiel wasn't sure what struck him as funny. "Something's banging around under my baby when she accelerates but I haven't figured out what's knocked loose yet. She's an old girl but I'm never gonna be ready to let her go. I'll just keep patching her up as long as I can."

"Your vehicle has a gender?"

"Sure. I dunno why though. Ships and cars have been female for as long as I can remember." Shrugging, Dean's throat muscles rippled as he swallowed down a long measure of beer. He made a low sound of pleasure that punched Castiel in the stomach and dried out his throat. Dean watched him intently. "You cool, Cas? How's everything with Hael and the kid? What's her name again?"

"Evelyn," replied Castiel. "They seem to be giving their fledglings non-angelic names like I did. I'm not certain that I should be held up as an example for these angels running away from Heaven."

"Cas, you're a leader. You're showing them how to think for themselves. It's important work," Dean argued in a sturdy, lowered tone. "Just the fact that more of you are taking off with the fledglings instead of raising them in Heaven shows there's something really wrong with the system up there. Forcing a destiny on any kid - human or not - no." He shook his head and stared aimlessly into the distance. "I look at James and I can't get my brain around some dick in a suit deciding what he should be when he can't even talk or feed himself yet. I mean, he imprinted both of us, which means he has his own wants and ideas already, and he's only two-weeks-old. I'm sure it's the same with Evelyn and every other fledgling before the brainwashing starts." Those green eyes turned to Castiel again. "What would you have been if you weren't forced to be a soldier?"

"What would you have been if you weren't forced to be a hunter?" asked Castiel so softly that it could never have been perceived as malicious or accusatory.

Dean absently picked at the label on his beer bottle. "Hell, I dunno."

"Well, I know now that I am who I want to be. Everything I was before brought me here to this place today with my son, with you, and this extended family we have built."

They studied each other for a moment, crouched in the gravel beside the Impala. Finally, as if arriving at some point in his own mind, the corners of Dean's mouth turned up slightly and his eyes twinkled. The redness in his soul spread slowly again but not sharply as it had in the kitchen. He took whatever he thought about with greater ease.

"You think we're being watched?" he asked.

"Probably," Castiel replied without turning to look.

Dean folded his legs and popped upright to his full stature, and Castiel stood as well. "Come help me look for tools."

"Why would you need my help?" asked Castiel, eyes narrowed.

The hunter threw a smirk over his shoulder. "Just come to the tool shed."

Castiel obeyed, following Dean between rusted old cars that no longer operated. The afternoon burned hot on his bare arms as he strolled along and he wondered why it took so long for him to consider giving up the suit and trench coat before. Even the jeans were cooler by comparison but the heat of late summer seeped through the fabric. He walked along behind Dean, watching his bowlegged swagger with his filthy clothes sticking to the hard shapes and lines of his thick body. Again, Castiel found himself deeply entranced with mechanic work making him that dirty and damp with the sweat of hard work.

In the tool shed, Dean stood his beer bottle on an old wooden shelf and shut the door behind them. Dust and dim light surrounded them, as did even more intense heat. Without the breeze outside, the air turned stagnate and Castiel's shirt soon stuck to his back in subtle spots.

"Now we're alone," Dean said through a wicked little smile. "No prying eyes. No crying babies. No runaway angels."

"Except me."

Dean laughed darkly as he stepped closer, pushing Castiel's back against the wall. He took the angel's chin between his thumb and first finger, eyes dropped to his mouth as if looking at something rather appetizing. Full lips tasted moist and salty with the hint of something more biting - beer, Castiel vaguely guessed. His arm slid around Dean's shoulders and the other around his wait, and the hunter pulled him close the same way.

Summer heat radiated through Dean's thin gray t-shirt and the damp sheen of sweat mingled between both of them as their kiss slowed into something deep and heady. Dean's need for slow progression only allowed Castiel to kiss him but it was enough for him. It was so much more than he ever expected. His fingers curled into Dean's shoulder, grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt.

Castiel pulled back just slightly, both their lips swollen and deeper pink, and he memorized the freckles scattered across Dean's cheeks and nose. Being that close - he lacked English words. His palm flattened around the side of Dean's face and pushed back wild hair that had grown a little longer than usual. He buried his face in the warm crook of Dean's neck, inhaling the natural scent of hard work through his clothes. It made rather little sense to Castiel, but he simply couldn't get enough of Dean's smell and wanted to bury himself in it. Occasional kisses dropped along the line of his hunter's neck, tasting the faint salty warmth of damp summery skin.

A deep breath filled Dean's chest with a reluctant, strangled sort of sound rolling through his throat. "I gotta step away before this goes too far," he whispered.

"Yes," agreed Castiel, reluctant to let go. "Whatever you want."

Dean backed away enough to talk without the distraction of being pressed together. "I do ... want ... but I just need more time. And I'm not a sappy idiot, but you know ... not here. Not like this." He looked around the tool shed, not with regret, but a shade of confusion Castiel couldn't decipher. Dean's eyes met his again and he touched the angel's cheek. "It's gonna mean something when we ... I mean, it's not me blowing through town grabbing phone numbers and quick screws in the backseat of my car anymore. This time it means something. You're..." He paused, sighing with a hand on his hip, "...You're more than I think I probably deserve. So I wanna take my time."

"You don't have to explain. I understand." Castiel slipped a hand along Dean's jaw again and kissed his cheekbone. "It means something for me too. Remember I haven't yet."

"Yeah, that's the other thing," Dean agreed quietly, drifting close again. "Everybody's first time is shit. I don't want yours to be in a dirty old tool shed hoping nobody walks in looking for a wrench or something. I'm not a sappy idiot but--"

"--You keep saying that but you kind of are sappy, Dean." Castiel smiled against his cheek. "It's not so bad to have one romantic bone in your body. I won't tell anyone."

Chapter Text

James huffed and drew up his naked little knees in the bathroom sink. Castiel leaned an elbow on the counter and held his fledgling steady in the water as he wiped a soapy washcloth around his neck. That turned irritated baby huffs into deeper agitated fussing.

"I'm well aware of your dislike for bath time," Castiel said quietly, "but it's quite necessary, I assure you. Old formula and spit-up aren't pleasant smells."

The fledgling's face reddened in frustration and he fussed another bout of wordless protests. Castiel inwardly scolded himself for keeping his boy awake too far beyond his bedtime, but getting Hael and Evelyn settled in his room threw off his schedule. It seemed James responded better to boundaries and an orderly sort of life just like Castiel did. Now he had a crabby baby on his hands.

Castiel expertly traded the washcloth for a bottle of infant shampoo with one hand and squirted a glob on each wing. Suds flowed through his fingers lathering James' white feathers and, as an afterthought, his new black hair. But a sudden woosh of soapy bath water splashed across Castiel's face and black t-shirt in a swoop of a baby angel wing.

"Oh, wonderful. You're getting stronger," Castiel muttered sarcastically, wiping his wet face with the back of his hand.

He rinsed off the soap and shampoo quickly, and grabbed a towel to spread on the counter. James' toothless mouth curled wide open as he ferociously wailed despite being such a small fledgling, impossibly angry at the sensation of being wet and cold.

"I know, life is so rough for you," said Castiel as rubbed the dry towel over him and swaddled him tightly in it. "There, you like swaddling. Do you forgive me for the horrors of bathing? Let's ask Dean for another shirt now that I'm soaking wet. Was that your plan - to go see Dean? We're certainly not going to disturb little Evelyn with your mouth."

Castiel scooped the swaddled, grumpy fledgling off the counter and carried him down the hall to Dean's room. He knocked, uncertain if he was simply allowed into the sanctuary whenever he pleased or not, but Dean yelled to come in without hesitation.

As he came into the room and shut the door behind him, Dean sat cross-legged on the bed chuckling at him. "Looks like the rugrat won this round," he teased over the crying.

"Hilarious, Dean," replied Castiel as he handed James over whether Dean wanted to hold him or not. "I need a dry shirt if you don't mind."

"Top drawer over there," Dean said. He leaned back against the headboard and patted James' bottom in hopes of calming his tears. "James, you little nudist. You're not wearing a diaper under this towel. I dig your freaky style, Squirt."

Castiel felt like an intruder as he carded through neatly folded t-shirts in a dresser drawer that didn't belong to him. A plain blue t-shirt like the black one seemed all right, though, so he stripped the wet cotton over his head and discarded it in Dean's laundry basket. He stripped without thinking, of course, and although his back was turned, he felt defined stillness behind him and bright red hues reflected off the wall to his side. He glanced at the wall, realizing Dean's soul went red again. It hit Castiel in that moment. Redness in his soul's natural colors corresponded with his attraction to Castiel. Sometimes it crept over him slowly and sometimes, like watching him change that shirt, it hit him like a gunshot.

And Dean must have sensed something in himself because he cleared his throat and spoke. "I was thinking about how we're gonna find the other runaways."

"Oh?" Castiel jammed his arms and head into the blue shirt. "Wait a minute. James needs a diaper and pajamas."

He smirked. "Yeah, don't piss on me, Squirt."

"Dean, language," Castiel grumbled.

"What? He's not talking yet."

As Castiel left the room, he passed a quick eye over Dean stretched out on the bed reclining against the headboard with James lying on his chest. The hunter had gotten the fledgling quiet and calm again as if he had some magic touch.

Castiel slipped into his bedroom and collected a few things for James, managing not to wake Evelyn by some miracle. And by another series of miracles, Hael never asked where he was that night, nor did he encounter Sam or Bobby in the hall. He didn't know if he could come up with a convincing lie on the spot.

"Everything cool with the house guests?" Dean asked once he returned.

Nodding, Castiel slid onto the bed and carefully took James with the hope that he wouldn't start fussing again. When his son wanted Dean, he wanted Dean. Nothing made him happy until that happened, yet Castiel didn't know if the hunter fully understood what he meant to James. And to him as well. Lost in thought, he diapered his boy on Dean's bed and tugged the dinosaur footie pajamas over his body.

"These clothes seem tighter," he commented.

"The book says babies grow like weeds and this one eats like a champ. You're gonna go through a lot of clothes this year, I bet," Dean replied as he flipped channels on the television, settling on an action movie Castiel couldn't identify.

"Perhaps I should find some sort of employment," he said dismally.

"Nah. Can't do that without an identity. I'll get money for the rugrat. I took better care of Sammy than Dad ever did. No big deal."

Castiel eyed him as he snapped the pajamas. "You don't have to do that, Dean. It's my responsibility to provide for my son."

That yanked his attention from the television. "Really, Cas? He's part of you, right? Then he's part of me too. I'm a man who takes care of my family. My family needs something, I find a way to get it."

"And what happens when he starts calling you daddy too?"

Dean shrugged. "Great!"

Warily, Castiel struggled to let go of his fears. "What are we going to do if you decide you no longer want to be bound to a ... boyfriend, I suppose ... and a baby? What happens when you want your freedom again?"

"Cas." He sort of scoffed and chuckled, not that he seemed to find it humorous. It bordered on frustration. "Do you even know how friggin hard it was for me to kiss you the other day? To even try? We're talking years, Cas. Years." He shook his head and snatched Castiel's hand. "You cross a line like that with a friend and you can't take it back. I knew that when I did it. Look, I want to be here and do this with you, okay?" Dean's finger pointed back and forth between Castiel and James to intensify what he said. "I'm not impulse buying at the cash register here. It took years to get here and I don't wanna go back. This is what I want if it's what you want."

"You're certain?" He felt his eyes misting over, just barely, but it made so little sense. Angels weren't prone to such reactions.

"Yep. I'm solid." Dean squeezed Castiel's hand between both of his. "Just because I'm taking things slow doesn't mean I'm looking for a quick exit. Got it?"

"Yes." A tense breath left Castiel as he relaxed.

"Cool," said Dean in a rather calm manner, without fear, as he gathered up James to his chest in that reclining position again. "You're good?"

"I'm good," replied Castiel. "I think I always wanted you. Having my son forced me to sort out my emotions rather suddenly."

"Kids'll do that to you." Dean nodded and patted his hand. "Now, let's talk about finding the runaways. I was thinking the only way we're gonna do this is if you use your mojo."

"I can't do that," Castiel stretched out beside Dean tenderly passed a hand over James' black hair as he dozed on the hunter's chest.

"No, hear me out," countered Dean, a hand flipped up to silence him. "I know you can't let the suits upstairs get a whiff of your scent, so we're gonna throw your scent someplace else. We're gonna take a little trip out of state. Camping or something. You'll do your mojo thing with Hael and find out where the other four are, and then we'll take the long way home. When a predator's chasing you, they can't get a clean shot if you run in a zigzag pattern."

It seemed reasonable, if not completely ingenious. Castiel walked through the steps of Dean's plan in his mind, considered different angles, and thought if they moved fast enough, it could work.

"We'll have to get to the other runaways by driving or whatever so they don't track your mojo but I think it might work." Dean, reclining shoulder to shoulder with Castiel, looked over and searched his features. "What do you think?"

"I'll do it," replied Castiel with a subtle nod. "We'll ask Hael tomorrow."

"Okay, good." It made Dean smile one of those rare contented smiles from both his mouth and his eyes. "I dunno what we're gonna do with all these runaways. For all we know, there are more than what Hael said, but I know we have to find them. They're loose cannons and that makes them a danger to you and James. I can't have that."

"We can't be so reckless on hunts anymore," said Castiel softly, peering down at his son.

"I know," Dean agreed, "but we gotta do our job too."

"Yes."

Conversation faded to contented peace and quiet in the bedroom. Only the low rumble of the action movie on television provided any noise. Castiel felt Dean's body progressively grow heavier and relaxed as he immersed in the story and let the fledgling sleep on his chest. Wings draped limply over his bicep and across his pectoral muscles with the slightest rustle of pearly feathers as Dean breathed on him. Chubby legs covered by dinosaur footie pajamas folded under his body, making his bottom poke up in the air. Dean's forearm curled around James' bottom and his other hand lazily patted his back.

"You wanna stay tonight?" Dean asked so casually as if mentioning nothing more important than the weather.

Castiel dumbly stared at him without response.

"I don't mean that," he chuckled. "Just stay, Cas. I might actually get more than four hours with both of you here."

"All right," he agreed.

And Dean fell asleep before the movie even concluded. With the baby curled in a ball on his chest, he only moved once during the night, leaning his head on Castiel's shoulder. For the first time, Castiel wondered what it might feel like to sleep like a human tangled up with his hunter.

Chapter Text

"I feel like a friggin soccer mom," Dean complained behind the wheel of a minivan.

Bobby's gruff voice carried loudly from the back seat where he squeezed between Hael and Sam. "Pipe down and drive, boy! All this shit was your damn idea!"

"Language, please!" shouted Castiel, seated beside Dean up front.

"Ah, family vacations..." chuckled Sam.

He craned around and carefully examined a pair of car seats strapped in behind Dean and himself, each containing James and Evelyn. An hour into the drive, the rocking motion lulled both of them to sleep. His eye pulled to the back where Hael sat by the window quietly observing the scenery as they road tripped to the Rocky Mountain National Park near Fort Collins, Colorado. Dean had decided they could get there in six or seven hours but take a long, winding path back, perhaps stopping more than once at different campsites. Anything to throw off the scent.

"Looks like the rugrat’s made for road life," Dean commented privately to Castiel with a prideful smile. "Hardly heard a peep out of him. No car sickness. I thought this was gonna be a lot harder."

"We’re not there yet," Castiel replied.

Dean glanced his way. “You nervous about this?”

"A little bit, perhaps. I know of no other way to find the runaway angels and Hael doesn’t either. I’m accustomed to the risks we’ve taken together in the past even when they turn out badly but—"

"—But it’s different with a baby. I know. I thought about that this morning when I loaded up the car seats," Dean admitted with a quick glance in the rear view mirror as if he didn’t want the others to hear his vulnerable thoughts. "We just stick to the plan, stay armed at all times, and kick it in the ass."

"I never understood that phrase."

It amused Dean. He dissolved into low, rolling laughter as he drove and shook his head. The way he smiled fanned lines from his eyes felt rather contagious as Castiel smiled too. He resisted the desire to reach out and touch him. For now, they couldn’t behave as anything deeper than their usual ambiguous kind of friendship. He looked to the road ahead and occupied himself with recounting the steps of the plan.

*****

Lanterns scattered around the campsite cast the glow of contained fire in the nighttime mountain wilderness. Dean stoked the campfire as Bobby set up a card table to contain the summoning ritual items. Candles, a flask of holy water, myrrh, a bowl, chalk to draw the Enochian symbols. They’d helped Castiel do it so many times in the past that they hardly needed any instruction.

Castiel bent over the playpen Dean stopped and bought on the road to keep the fledglings out of the bugs and dirt. It was collapsible and easy to keep for the road, he’d said. James made contented little cooing sounds at Castiel as he covered him with a heavy quilt, protecting him from the mountain chill. At least he was entirely too young and innocent to understand what he was about to witness from his father. The idea of James seeing him invoke his power made him rather uneasy.

Hael’s elongated shadow cast over the playpen as she approached Sam with her own fledgling. Evelyn fussed and squirmed in her swaddling blanket, which, Castiel couldn’t help noticing, wasn’t wrapped correctly. Hael deposited the squirming, fussing girl in Sam’s arm and pressed a bottle into his hand.

"Thank you for looking after the fledglings," she said quietly. "I won’t be long. I apologize for her mood."

"It’s fine. I got it. Just help Cas find out where the angels went," Sam replied in his awkward attempts not to look so uncomfortable with watching two at once.

"Guys, let’s get this show on the road. You ready?" Dean asked from the campfire.

Both Dean and Bobby stood by with angel blades drawn and gripped in a battle ready stance. Just in case. Neither Castiel nor Hael expected any violence there at that moment but even Sam sat ready with an angel blade tucked under his thigh. The extra safety precautions had to be because of the fledglings there and Castiel couldn’t say he wasn’t glad for the vigilance.

Hael and Castiel faced each other at the card table. She set to work with fluid, practiced precision and sketched out the Enochian symbols on the table. Dean rolled up his sleeve, offering his forearm in the most trusting manner to Castiel, and allowed him to slice open his flesh. Human blood spilled into the bowl but before Castiel added the holy water, he pressed gauze against the flesh he'd mutilated. They eyed each other silently and exchanged a thousand wordless things.

The human blood component of the tracking spell secure, Dean backed away from the table. Castiel's attention shifted to Hael as he poured holy water into Dean's blood. He studied her calm features as she crushed the myrrh into the bowl.

"You’re certain about participating in this?" Castiel asked her in a quiet tone meant to give her an out if she wanted it. "It falls into the category of disobedience. That’s a death sentence if you’re caught."

"I know." She flipped her pale orange hair over her shoulder in a rather human gesture. "Our father has abandoned us. We don’t know who gives the orders anymore. Are we meant to give our blind allegiance to whoever assumes power? I don’t think so." She resumed preparing the tracking spell. "My desire is to be able to look my child in the eye with love and pride the way you look at yours. I can only do that if I secure her freedom in his universe."

"Do you truthfully view her as your child and you her mother? Because that’s the only way to do this. We’re not raising soldiers. We’re letting them be children. I need to know that you’re absolute." He felt himself grow predatory and primal with the possible lurking specter of betrayal. "Second guessing yourself or approaching us with false promises of loyalty will only put my child in danger and I won’t hesitate to eliminate any threat to him or my family." Subtly, his eyes flashed to Dean behind her but he dared not maintain eye contact long enough to betray their secret.

Hael stood unflinching at the table and her faded peacock blue wings drooped slowly. Among angels, the drooping of wings signaled submission to a superior. It was a sign of her respect and trust in his judgment.

"Castiel, I’m on your side. I believe in you. There’s nothing more important to me than my child and I will do anything to stop our superiors from forcing this role of the future angel of chaos and disease on her. She’s innocent as James is. They deserve the freedom we’ve only begun to understand."

Castiel stared deeply into her pale eyes, beyond the vessel into her grace. He search for deception but found none.

"We all good, Cas?" asked Dean in a low tone.

"Yes, we are," Castiel answered Dean but stared unblinking at Hael. "She now knows my terms and what I’m prepared to do should she have any ideas about putting my child in danger. We’re good, as you say."

"Great. Can we do this already?" Bobby crabbed. "I’m freezing my balls off out here."

"You search the north. I’ll search the south," Hael said with a nod.

"Agreed," Castiel replied.

They closed their eyes and placed their hands on the table. Fingertips touched and they formed a border around the invoking symbol she’d drawn in the center beneath the bowl. Deep breaths passed through both their vessels as they focused and acclimated to touching the graces they had worked to avoid.

"Zod ah mah rah na ee es lah gee roh sah," they chanted in unison.

Blackness revealed a map in Castiel's subconscious mind, and then refocused on the states surrounding the Great Lakes. The word Superior flashed but he knew it didn't fall into specifics enough. He dove deeper into his subconscious, tuning out the noise of the Colorado wilderness around them. Deeper, he tried to even block out the sound of his fledgling cooing and gurgling happily nearby in the playpen, but he found it impossible to sever the awareness of his child. The map refocused, more detailed that time.

"Duluth, Minnesota," he said through his trance. "West First Street. The angel is Demiel. Female vessel. Male fledgling."

Somewhere distant, he heard Hael mumble, "Moselle, Mississippi. He is Timaniel. Female fledgling. With a church family."

"Northern Cheyenne," Castiel said in his search of the north, pulling higher in consciousness, rejoining them. "I don't know where that is. This one's trying to hide. I can only get the words Northern Cheyenne."

Castiel opened his eyes but didn't pull away from the table as Hael remained deep in her search. He looked to Dean, who nodded back, and scribbled down everything they reported on a handheld spiral notebook. They waited tensely for Hael to get a lock on the final angel in their scope of awareness. Her baby squealed in Sam's arms and he murmured soft things in his uncertain effort at keeping her calm.

"Calhoun, Georgia. Another church family took in Mael." Her eyes flashed open and landed on Castiel with raw fear, but deeper than that, complete shock.

"Your twin?" he whispered.

"Wait, angels can be twins?" Dean interjected.

Leaves crunched in the silent gap as Bobby approached the table. "It's rare but there's lore on it. Angels created in the same moment are twins but they're usually complete opposites in function and purpose. Like Yin and Yang. So if Hael's all about creating beauty and kindness, then her twin would be all about--"

"--Mael patrons the disfigured, the ugly at heart, the diseased, those immersed in anguish, and so forth," Hael explained over the old man. "It's incredibly difficult work. Many of the humans she's tasked with helping have no desire to be helped, or they feel themselves too far gone to deserve help. Some of her tasks involve helping humans who mutilate themselves or those who contemplate suicide. I inspire the beautiful side of life and my twin inspires the ugly side of life to find peace and consolation. Though we are technical opposites, our positions must work hand-in-hand too."

"Did you know she shimmied out the back door with her kid?" asked Dean as if he sensed something amiss.

"No," Hael replied, shaking her head. "We haven't spoken in centuries. Mael isolated herself. As I said, the work forced on her has always been horribly difficult and it regularly damages her grace. The anguish and ugliness in this world has gotten much worse and she began to blame herself for failing at her purpose."

"No wonder she took her kid and ran," Bobby commented.

Hael nodded and cast a sad eye on him. "Yes. She would never subject her fledgling to that kind of existence if she caught wind of other angels like Castiel taking theirs away from Heaven."

"We'll find her," Castiel promised.

With a rare display of compassion, Dean touched her arm. "We're gonna find all of them."

*****

Sunrise over the Rockies was a beautiful thing. Far more beautiful than he expected. He sat on a boulder somewhat removed from the campsite, but still keeping it in sight. James' round little chin rolled against the bottle in his mouth. He ate happily through sweet little grunts between swallows and those large green eyes soaked in all of the new sights. Castiel imagined that was how Dean's eyes looked before his life drained away every drop of innocence.

"The angel who made these mountains did so by swooping wings into the earth and building up each peak. Rain fell for centuries and created glaciers as the planet plunged into coldness. Rivers and lakes formed when the ice melted. Some of it is still out here. Humans look to glaciers the way they look to everything in their history - with tickets and tours."

Castiel looked down at his boy. Green eyes studied him intently as he sucked away on his bottle of formula heated over the fire and mixed with honey and crushed rose petals. Perhaps it didn't matter if he understood. Castiel talked to him anyway.

"They only know half the story as always. The natural world didn't appear by happenstance. Our kind has always been mysterious to them, nearly always unseen, and we almost never receive credit for the things we do for mankind. All the glory is destined for God, yet none of them know God abandoned us long ago. We are the shepherds of the flock. These people are not the hairless apes we were led to believe. They're capable of infinite kindness and compassion if their free will is nurtured with love. And in return, we're being taught to feel these things too. It's what I want for your life. I wish for you to know love and give it back."

Footsteps drew nearer along the ridge and Castiel looked over his shoulder, finding Dean with a thermos. "Want some coffee?"

"I don't require food or drink," Castiel replied.

"Ahhh, Cas, you gotta learn to enjoy the little things." He twisted off the cap and poured steaming dark liquid into it, apparently a cup as well as a lid. "Gimme the rugrat. You have some coffee and relax. You're so friggin tense, I could see it from over there."

"Am I tense?" Castiel flexed his shoulders back and forth as he passed James with the bottle over to Dean. "What is tense anyway?"

With a faint smile, Dean reached around him and kneaded the muscles between his shoulderblades. Sparks flew across Castiel's skin and he instantly arched into the pleasant sensation. Dean held the baby angel in the crook of his other arm as he worked a one-handed massage along Castiel's upper spine into his neck. For a moment, he didn't even consider that someone might have seen them. There was no way Dean could have known but the strength of his fingers worked into the muscles leading into Castiel's wings, which often became strained and sore attached to human vessels. His head dropped forward, neck going limp, and his forearms leaned on his thighs.

"I told you," Dean teased quietly.

"Don't let anyone see," he mumbled back.

"They've gone to get breakfast in town. We're alone."

Castiel eyed him without lifting his head. "You weren't hungry?"

He shrugged noncommittally and looked out over the slope of the ridge and the steadily rising sun. A palm flattened on the edge of Castiel's wing, dropping off with a lingering touch. It bothered him more than he wanted to admit that Dean had absolutely no awareness of his wings despite instinctively relieving the knots collected in those muscles.

"How do you wanna round up these other angels?" he asked as he wriggled the bottle into James' mouth again. The fledgling still had another ounce to eat.

"The old-fashioned way to start. Sam can locate phone numbers fairly easy if we have locations, right?"

"Sure," Dean replied.

Castiel nodded. "Short of driving all over the country, that's all we can do for the moment. I don't want to put James and Evelyn through that and it would be the only way aside from using my grace to fly. I don't want to do that either."

"What about aliases?"

"We don't think in those terms. I only adopt aliases occasionally because I learned the habit from you."

"Awesome. I'm a great influence," he chortled with his tongue playfully poked between his teeth. "Okay, so we check out these places and call looking for these names. What then?"

"Convince them to make their way here," he said. "The only one that might resist is the Northern Cheyenne place. I don't even know who it is."

"Hiding out?"

"Yes. Something must have scared that angel deeper into concealing who they are from everyone in our kind. The others allowed Hael and me to locate them, which means they were hoping I would reach out soon." He remembered the coffee gripped in his hands and drank some of it. Admittedly, it tasted good, though he wished it was sweeter. It did nothing to satisfy any nourishment in him, not that he needed nourishment the way his son did. "I'm a leader to them, I suppose."

"And you didn't wanna be," Dean guessed.

"No. I just wanted to raise my child without oppression and forced destinies. I didn't think anyone would follow my lead."

"Well, they have followed your lead. You could be the one to turn the tide upstairs, Cas," came a soft encouragement from Dean. "Six fledglings have already been saved. There could be more we don't even know about yet."

"Perhaps," he conceded. "They don't have life skills among humans let alone raising their fledglings in human society. I barely have a handle on it. Without you and Sam..."

"You have us and they've got you. We keep them close and it should be okay. Once the little baby angels molt and we can't see their wings anymore, hiding won't be such a big deal. It'll be up to the parents to raise them balanced or whatever." Dean shrugged and glanced down at James' tiny fingers toying with his hand gripped around the bottle. "That's the easy stuff though. Hard part's gonna be keeping Heaven from nabbing them before they're old enough to fight back."

"I suppose I was looking forward to more of a quiet life," Castiel replied.

"We can still have that," said Dean, apparently without thinking.

"We?"

"Sure," he replied with a nod. "I'm still gonna hunt. You know. We'll figure it out. I ain't worried."

Chapter Text

"Dean, really? A picture?" Sam said in the deepest cynicism.

Through a toothy grin, Dean stood between Castiel, James, and his brother with Bobby crouched in front of them. "Family business. Stow your crap and smile."

Kindly, Hael learned to use an iPhone just to take the picture for Dean. "Ready?" She aimed the phone at them and shifted the angle in her effort to include as much of the Rocky Mountain setting in it as she could. A couple of misplaced swipes of the touch screen and she managed to capture the moment. "I think I got it. Yes, a beautiful image. Even James faced the camera on Castiel's arm. Look, Dean."

Castiel silently leaned in for a peek at Dean's phone. The slow smile spreading over Dean's face brought a smile to Castiel's mouth as well.

"Thanks, Hael. Looks great," he said. "All right, let's get outta here."

As Castiel and Hael strapped their fledglings into their car seats, he noticed Dean and Sam sharing a deep discussion over a map spread across the hood of the van. Bobby approached the boys and he nodded at everything they told him. He guessed the three of them plotted a side-winding route back home, but the serious, stony quality of Dean's face as he came around to the open side of the van suggested otherwise.

"Sam thinks he might've figured out where the angel ducking us went," he explained. "You said 'Northern Cheyenne' and there's a Northern Cheyenne Indian Reservation up in Wyoming. You think that might be it?"

"Possibly," replied Castiel, glancing at Hael.

"We were thinking of driving up there to look," added Sam as he leaned in the van doorway.

"How are we gonna find one guy or gal on a whole reservation if they don't wanna be found? We won't exactly blend in at a place like that either. That angel will see us coming a mile away." Bobby leaned over the map and sized up the green blob of the reservation.

"Interview people, I guess. A stranger coming to town with a newborn baby probably doesn't happen much there, you know?" The idea seemed reasonable enough to Dean, apparently.

Quiet concentration came over Hael as she finished buckling in her fledgling and then turned her attention to the map. She went silent as her mind turned over rapid thoughts. An epiphany widened her eyes and parted her lips. Again, in a new habit, it seemed, she unconsciously flicked her hair over her shoulder. Fingertips traced a slow line around the border of the reservation.

"We're approaching this one the wrong way," she said.

Sam folded his arms, shuffling in place, almost like not being regarded as the great innovator of the group left him a bit insecure. "How so?" he asked, the flash of insecurity quickly replaced by open-mindedness.

"The ability to hide is left to the individual angel. We can't hide each other unless we draw the right sigils on each other, but even in those cases, it's temporary," Hael explained to all of them but her eyes clearly focused on Castiel, who knew immediately where she was going with it. "In other words, we're attempting to track the wrong angel here."

Castiel offered a slow nod. "If we track the fledgling--"

"--We find the angel raising it," Hael filled in the thought.

"Awesome," said Dean, slapping Castiel's shoulder. "Saddle up, guys. We're moving out."

*****

"I don’t know, Dean. Perhaps I shouldn’t leave him." Castiel paced a long path through the motel room booked only for him and his fledgling. His knees dipped and his body rocked to try and stop James’ tears. "He’s never this upset. Something is wrong."

"We’ve been on the road and hanging out in strange places a lot the last three days. It’s hard on a baby this small, I guess." The hunter’s green eyes darkened with more concern than his words conveyed. "You’re making me dizzy. Sit down, Cas."

"I can't. He cries louder if I stop rocking," he replied.

"Okay, lemme try. He’s gotta be—"

James wailed through rather human vocal cords as always, but a piercing buzz layered through it, mixing human and angel. They stopped abruptly and stared at the fledgling. Dean’s jaw fell open and his eyes glassed over with a distant memory. Of course Castiel knew what he recalled. James became so agitated, so upset, that he tapped into his angelic voice - a voice that Dean heard the day Castiel brought him back from Hell. In James, it wasn’t yet loud enough to damage human ears, although he certainly didn’t sound like a normal baby.

"What’s going on?" Dean questioned, rushed and a little nervous.

"I—"

But before Castiel had a moment to explain, James opened his tearfully dripping eyes. No longer did he look back at them through Dean’s imprinted green irises but through vision entirely devoid of humanity. The whole of each eye filled with the bluish white glow of his developing, immature angelic grace, so raw and completely untested. It perfectly resembled Castiel’s grace as if the child had indeed been created from within himself.

Castiel understood. He clutched his son just beneath his chin and stopped pacing. Instead, he tenderly swayed from side to side and patted his little bottom. Inside, he fought back swelling panic - an emotion utterly foreign and terrible.

"Cas?" Dean eyed them warily, not afraid of James, thank goodness, but rather concerned.

"He senses danger. We must hurry, Dean. Listen to me carefully. You’re going to remove James, Hael, Evelyn, and Bobby from this reservation right now. I'll take Sam with me and together we'll locate the angel hiding here with the fledgling."

"I’m not leaving you," Dean replied with the most emphatic rejection in his tone. "No way in hell."

"Yes, Dean. You are." Castiel made his point by thrusting the screeching baby into Dean’s arms. "Remember what you said. It’s not just about us anymore. We have a child to think about, and whether you feel this child is yours as much as mine, I’m asking you to protect my son. He senses danger and he’s not capable of lying to either of us at such a young age. Do you understand me?"

"Y-yeah. I get you," stammered Dean. Unconsciously, he too clutched James close, bundled beneath his chin. "Take my angel blade. Back pocket. And take my gun in my jacket."

"Keep the blade. I have mine. And I don’t know how to shoot a firearm either. Sam will no doubt be armed." Castiel’s hands framed Dean’s face and he pressed his lips in a kiss meant to convey all of his love, gratitude, and trust. When he spoke again, his forehead leaned against Dean’s and he murmured, "You’re the only one I trust with my son’s life. Please don’t be a hero."

"What about you?" Dean asked over the baby’s crying and angelic buzz.

"I’ll find you as soon as I’m able. I don’t think it’ll take long." As Castiel spoke, his attention fell from Dean to stroking James’ black hair, one of his velvety white wings, and to kissing his hot, angry brow. "Remember who you are. Show Dean when danger comes close. You’re a good boy. Don’t forget that, James."

Fear filled Dean’s eyes but his words passed sternly through clenched teeth. “You do what Sammy says. Watch his back. He’ll watch yours.” He kissed Castiel again as he grabbed the bag they’d packed for James and moved for the door.

"I’ll try to hurry," Castiel promised. "Get the fledglings off the reservation immediately. Now go. Take him and get him out of here. When he calms again, you’re far enough away. I’m trusting you, Dean."

"Damn right," Dean replied.

*****

The only way Castiel could do this was to compartmentalize his child. He filed away his fear for James somewhere in the sidelines of his brain as Sam walked alongside him, blade discreetly drawn. They began at the center of a small town, some nondescript Main Street of run down buildings with old cars parked outside.

"Feel anything?" Sam whispered.

"Just a general direction. I’m having difficulty tuning out James," he admitted just as quietly.

The younger Winchester nodded with the best of his empathy but he looked over at Castiel with questions in his eyes too. “I can’t believe you got Dean to just pick up and leave like that. He’s never run from danger as long as I’ve known him.”

"He’s not running. He’s protecting my child." Castiel carefully studied people in an alley they passed for any signs of wings.

"Cas, I know," said Sam after a moment.

"You know what?"

"I was in the parking lot. I saw through the window. I wasn’t trying to look or anything, but when my brother kisses someone, I kinda notice it." He searched Castiel’s face as he spoke but nothing about his demeanor suggested anger or defensiveness. "How long?"

Castiel debated whether he should attempt to lie or not but he knew Sam always saw straight through him. “The day after we argued,” he replied, feeling some relief that the secret wormed its way out.

"Lemme guess. He doesn’t want anyone to know," Sam surmised.

Castiel nodded. “He’s not ready.”

"Got it. I’m oblivious. I know nothing." With a sharp nod, he lightly slapped Castiel’s shoulder and smiled. "But I told you he’d come around. He’s so predictable. He has to think everything is his idea before he does it. Well, I’m really glad for you. I was hoping this would happen."

"Thank you, Sam. Your friendship means a great deal to me."

Though they talked of Dean and private things like friends did, Castiel never stopped searching for the missing angel. His internal sensations pulled him further west and he led Sam down a smaller street lined with houses that all resembled each other in boxy design and condition. Dirty. Small. Full of humans living in poverty. He suppressed his disillusionment with entire populations living that way.

A low hum vibrated deep in Castiel’s human ear the way it did when other angels were close by. Humans wouldn’t even be able to perceive the vibration of those tiny ear bones, yet the further Castiel walked, the more unbearable it grew.

"We’re close," he whispered.

Sam’s long fingers tightened around the handle of the angel blade. It pointed up just a bit with his unconscious reflex to fight.

"Surely this angel isn’t violent," cautioned Castiel.

"Everyone I know with something to hide will fight to keep it secret. I’m not taking any chances ‘til we see which side of the fence this angel’s on," Sam reasoned as he stole a glance behind him. "If Dean’s got your kid, then he wants me to look after you. I know him."

"Wait, Sam." Castiel snatched his sleeve, eyes fixed straight ahead in the distance. "That man there. The end of the block, crossing the street. The tall one with long hair."

"That’s him?"

"Unless all of the Northern Cheyenne people have wings."

Nodding, Sam’s hunter instincts poured into his body as he hid the blade behind his back and kept a casual distance from Castiel on the street. “No wonder he came here. He’d stand out in other cities being that tall and obviously using a Native American vessel.”

"Yes," Castiel agreed.

They crossed the street and approached the house where the angel dumped garbage into a large can at the end of the dirt driveway. He easily stood as tall as Sam, possibly thicker and broader, with black hair tied low on his head. Wings cast shadows across the yard. Coffee brown tinged with a rusty shade gave no indication of who he was as Castiel hadn't seen that color before.

The angel lifted his head, sensing the presence of his own kind. Instead of a defensive posture, his body slumped subtly in consuming disappointment and fear.

"No..." he breathed.

"Please, brother. I only wish to talk with you," Castiel coaxed with his hands raised to show that he meant no harm.

The angel's eyes turned so painful, the look of playing a part he had no desire to play. "Castiel--"

"--So you know me."

"You don't understand. They counted on this. They wanted you to find me here and I did everything I could to stop you." He truly appeared shaken and horribly upset by playing a part in ... something.

"What are you saying?" Hair stood on end across Castiel's arms.

Inside the house, the muffled cries of an infant momentarily distracted the angel. He looked to the screen door but didn't move. Rather than take the opportunity to flee, he faced Castiel and his earthy wings drooped in submission just the way Hael's had in Colorado. It alarmed Castiel and his angel blade dropped into his hand, which Sam noticed and quit hiding his own blade.

The angel eyed Castiel, terrified yet not of him. "They knew you would willingly hand over your fledgling to Dean Winchester and send them away from you."

A volcanic eruption of territorial rage pumped through Castiel and he slammed the angel's back into the house. He pressed the tip of his blade to the tanned throat and glared. Sam stalked close behind, ready to jump in too, but the younger brother seemed to recognize that it was Castiel's fight.

"Our superiors wanted you to separate from the fledgling. They threatened my own if I didn't help them lure you." Rushed, terrified confessions spilled from the angel's mouth. "I tried to throw you off, Castiel. I tried!"

"Shit," spat Sam, immediately trying to reach Dean on the phone.

It had been a well-executed trap to take James from him and force the other angels into compliance. Speechless, filled with indescribable, paralyzing dread, Castiel struggled to collect his thoughts. He let go of the angel and took a few paces down the driveway, chest heaving painfully. If his child... If Dean... Castiel suddenly bent over with his hands braced on his knees and his vessel retched with the total and consuming sense of failing them.

"I can't get him to answer!" Sam shouted with another bout of swearing.

"We're going to them. I can follow my son's grace," Castiel heard himself say in a strange tunnel sensation. He spun, shifting into his warrior skin, and pinned the angel by a painful pressure point in the highest joint of his wing, dropping him to his knees. "Name."

The angel, absolutely leveled on his knees by agonizing pain, growled out the word, "Hetanel."

"You're coming with us, Hetanel. The humans in that house will look after your fledgling. You do everything I say and I might allow you to see her again. It is a female, isn't it? Yes, I can feel it." Coldly, Castiel leaned down to Hetanel's level and stared him down, unblinking. "We'll decide if you truly meant to help me when I see Dean Winchester with my child again. Both unharmed. God have mercy on you, our superiors, and the whole of Heaven if they've been hurt. You know very well what I'm capable of, don't you?"

Hetanel's black eyes dared not turn from Castiel's icy blue stare as he nodded.

"As long as we're clear then. On your feet. We're flying." He released his grip on the angel's pressure point. Standing upright, he glanced at Sam, who stared back as if he'd never seen Castiel so consumed by rage. "Be ready for a fight."

Sam's jaw clenched and his eyes darkened. "I'm with you, Cas. Let's go get 'em."

Chapter Text

"Stay here. I’m going in first. Maybe we can avoid violence if I try talking to them," said Castiel, crouched behind a car between Sam and the angel Hetanel.

"No way, Cas," Sam argued stubbornly. "They probably already know you’re here. For all we know, they took Dean and everybody to trap you."

Hentanel nodded. “The human is probably correct.”

The three of them sat there debating the issue when Castiel used to be accustomed to his ordered being obeyed to the letter. He studied every cracked and filthy window of the warehouse on the other side of the parking lot. Separating his son’s grace from the others proved difficult but he estimated about ten other angels scattered through the unused building. They kept Dean and James on the fourth floor to keep him from trying to shimmy down a drain pipe.

A sharp whistling off to the side caught their attention. They spotted Bobby with Hael crouched behind another car, her fledgling protectively clutched to her chest. Bobby made a series of hand signals at Sam and nodded low within his trucker hat.

"Shit," he spat. "He says there’s ten of them and he can’t leave Hael out here by herself. You can’t go alone, Cas. That’s my brother in there."

"And that’s my son in there."

Sam’s tone sharpened aggressively. “Yeah, and my brother has your son. He’d skin my ass if he knew I let you charge in there like a kamikaze soldier. You’re not going alone and that’s the end of it!”

The younger Winchester didn’t give him a choice in the matter as he passed his angel blade from one hand to the other and stalked across the parking lot. Exasperated with the argument, Castiel grabbed Hentanel by the sleeve and dragged him along with them, unwilling to leave the other angel unattended.

Getting into the warehouse proved entirely too easy. No resistance greeted them, which meant the angels who kidnapped his child and his lover absolutely wanted him to come chase them. His fingers curled and re-curled around the handle of his angel blade, so willing to kill for them.

"Should we split up?" probed Sam quietly.

"No," both Castiel and Hentanel answered simultaneously.

"Combat soldier?" Castiel asked the angel, brow raised.

Hentanel nodded as his black eyes scanned the darkness. “I served in the war with Lucifer. After that, I lost my taste for fighting. Superiors allowed me to shift my duties to less violent tasks. I’m shepherd of all indigenous people of the Americas and their spiritual paths.” He shrugged subtly. “Until now, I suppose. I’m certain I’ve been … fired, so to speak, for helping you and for escaping Heaven with my fledgling.”

"Wait, stop." Sam’s long arm flung out in front of them. "Hear that?"

Not only Castiel’s human ears opened but he allowed his angelic hypersensitivity to take hold as well. Boots back and forth across a floor. A confined space. Small grunts of a baby’s frustration. Hold on, buddy. I’m gonna get us outta here. Lips kissing a plump baby cheek.

"Dean’s straight up three floors from here," said Castiel, his face craning up to the ceiling.

"I hear it too," Hentanel confirmed.

Sam shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

"How touching. Three men and a kidnapped baby," seethed a female voice behind them. "Come to be the hero, Castiel?"

The three of them spun, facing a long stretch of a skinny, shapeless woman in a black suit. She resembled something that fell out of the androgynous fashion of the 1930s. A thin smile appeared as she folded her spindly arms over her rather flat chest.

"Hello, Castiel," she said with a smile, which faded when her eyes slid over to Hentanel. "We’re quite disappointed. We expected more loyalty from you. No matter. You’re being dealt with as we speak. What do you call her again? Katrina?" Cold indifference greeted Sam through her amber colored eyes. "And you. Do you know what kind of pain in the ass your brother is? He’s already tried to escape twice."

Before Castiel could stop him, Hetanel lunged forward faster than perceptible to the human eye. The rage of an angel flew into their superior with a blade jammed straight through her sternum. An explosion of her grace light threw Sam to the floor as she died screaming, her wings burned into the dingy floor.

"If my fledgling is dead, they will all burn!" shouted Hentanel.

"They’re lying," Castiel said, though he wasn’t sure.

The remainder of the superiors in the warehouse abruptly surrounded them with the death of their leader. As Sam climbed to his feet, shaking off the blast of blinding grace light in his eyes, he and Castiel stood back to back with Hentanel forming a third piece of a defensive stance. Nine of them drew angel blades but one stepped forward. A short, stout man who looked like he belonged in a German beer garden, not an abandoned warehouse holding Dean and James hostage.

"Here’s the deal, Castiel. You tell the angels who have defected that you were wrong and obedience and duty are the greatest ways to honor our Lord, and we’ll let you see your fledgling again." He smiled and shrugged playfully with his blade. "Make them all come back to Heaven and we’ll throw in Dean Winchester to sweeten the pot."

Castiel’s head tilted. “Counter offer. All of you leave us in peace and you won’t have to die today.”

A few of them chuckled and the stout little angel laughed outright. “Oh, Castiel, you always were the hippie misfit. Shall we all put flowers in our hair and dance and hold hands?” His false sense of amusement darkened. “This is your last chance to obey, Castiel. Don’t let another fledgling die for your sins. Now you’ll have to look at Henatel every day and remember that you were the cause of his loss.”

"I pity you," Castiel replied in a low tone. "You’ll never know what it means to love your own child."

Fighting instincts lived in Sam as strongly as they did in Castiel and Hentanel. Nearly in the same moment, the three of them fanned out, taking on nine angels at once. Sam proved his size and skill with throwing knives made him more than a worthy opponent for Heaven’s best soldiers. In one fluid motion, Castiel watched him through his own fight as Sam shoved an angel blade through a man’s throat, yanked it out, and stabbed a woman through the kidney behind him. Two more angels burned wings into the floor in just a few seconds.

Spinning with perfect agility, Henatel certainly proved the truth in his assertions that he’d once been one of Heaven’s combat soldiers in the war with Lucifer. His closed fist backhanded an angel several yards back, and before he could breathe, he grabbed one from behind and easily flung the body over his towering height.

None of them escaped uninjured but they overpowered most of them easily as if none expected the trio to fight so well. Castiel felt his eye and mouth swelling where he’d taken hits to the face, and one of the angels nicked his forearm with a blade. It burned as his true form leaked in bright light. Adrenalin kept him moving, backing up Sam’s every attack as he realized the younger Winchester made his way to the stairwell. Henatel picked up on his wordless plan as well. Together, the three of them fought like a single machine.

With three angels left standing, Sam disappeared upstairs. He did so rather unnoticed until it was too late for them. But, realizing they were the last line of defense, they fought like lions. Castiel took a hard kick to the gut that sent his body sailing through a plate glass window. He felt the impact, the shattering glass, but nothing knocked the breath from his lungs like slamming into the concrete outside.

In seconds, Hentanel’s body followed nearby. They scrambled to their feet and took punches to the soft tissue of the abdomen. Castiel felt his strength giving way. His vision blurred.

Suddenly, Hael leaped around him like a gazelle from the sky brandishing her own angel blade. The shrieking death of an angel at her hand gave Hentanel just enough time to catch his breath and feel his second wind.

But the last angel, that belonged to Castiel. They backed away, respecting his kill. Bloody and beaten, the angel stared blankly up at him from her knees. Castiel grabbed a fistful of her hair and jerked her head backwards, exposing her throat to the air. Thinking of everything that might have been done to Dean and his child sent his rage into a boiling, uncontrollable pit. He wanted her to feel it.

"This is for my son. This is for Dean," he seethed as he slowly sliced open her throat.

Blood and grace light spilled down her chest and stained the concrete as she fell backwards, dead. Wings exploded on the ground with her light and it was done.

Castiel heaved a deep breath toward the sky. The kill never once felt satisfying before but eliminating danger to his child gave him a sense of real parental bonds. Spilling the blood and grace of his own kind sent him into a place of never turning back. Everything he did was for the protection of that child. And for Dean. They made up the whole of his existence in ways that he couldn’t have understood until his hand was forced into killing for them.

"Cas, you okay?" Bobby yelled as he crossed the parking lot. He handed off Evelyn to Hael without giving them much notice. "Who the hell’s this guy? He the one we were lookin’ for? Where’s Dean and the runt?"

Breathing heavily with the fight’s exertion, Castiel said nothing, though he answered the final question with a gesture up to the fourth floor.

Just as he was about to head back into the warehouse, there Dean appeared in the doorway, both arms tightly bound around James’ tiny body. Sam scooted around him and joined Bobby, Hael, and Hentanel, making sure everybody was unhurt. But all Castiel saw was Dean holding his child. They’d gotten a couple of swings in, judging by his swollen eye and bleeding cheekbone, but the defensive wounds across his hands meant he fought like only Dean could.

"Cas," he whispered.

"Dean," he whispered back. "Are you hurt?"

They both covered the space dividing them in a few determined strides and clutched each other for the longest time. Faces buried in necks and hands raked through hair, neither willing to say what could have very easily happened that afternoon. James grunted in his baby voice squished between them and, without pulling away from Dean’s grasp, Castiel bent to kiss the fledgling’s head.

"Oh… Really?" Bobby asked Sam some distance behind them.

"Yep," replied Sam. "It’s exactly how it looks."

"Oh…" Bobby said again.

"It all makes sense now," commented Henatel quietly.

"I think it’s sweet," said Hael.

Rolling his eyes, Dean shouted at them over Castiel’s shoulder. “Hey, you wanna shut your cake holes and give us a friggin minute here?”

He formed faint smile with the way Dean yelled at their unwelcome audience. "You’re bleeding," he said softly as his fingertips touched the edge of Dean’s cheek.

"So are you." Mimicking the tender touch, he peeled a hand away from James’ back and brushed Castiel’s lower lip. "You gotta heal yourself, Cas." Dean noticed the blood dripping from the open wound down Castiel's forearm and lightly touched the warmth of his grace coming through it. "This looks bad. What are you waiting for? Heal yourself."

"No. If I wasn’t a fugitive before, I really am now. I’m not touching my grace unless James or you are in danger. Don’t argue, please." He pulled Dean tightly against him again, feeling the fledgling wriggle between their chests. "They didn’t hurt him?"

"They couldn’t get to the rugrat. I balled myself up in a corner on top of him up there. They woulda had to kill me before they got to him."

"Thank you, Dean," he whispered into his shoulder. "Thank you."

"Hey, there was no question for me. I love this kid." That said, he attempted a smile to lighten the mood.

"If you two lovebirds wanna wrap up this touchy feely shit, this guy here says those angels claim they killed his kid. We gotta go check it out. C’mon. I’ll hot wire a car real quick," said Bobby, already headed toward a suitable and rather new minivan. He glanced over his shoulder. "Hey, how come nobody told me this romance novel shit was happening?"

"Nobody knew, Bobby," replied Dean. He squeezed Castiel’s hand and passed him James as he followed Bobby to hot wire a vehicle.

Castiel felt the weight of his baby in his arms and closed his eyes for the briefest moment. He couldn’t take that sensation for granted again, no matter how many long nights of endless crying they went through together. Sighing deeply, he pushed himself to pull it together. It wasn’t just about him and his new little family.

Henatel stared at the ground as Hael rubbed his arm, trying to comfort him. She met eyes with Castiel, uncertain of what to do.

"I don’t think they’ve done anything to your child. What’s her name?" asked Castiel.

"Katrina," he replied, scrubbing a hand over his face. "She only just imprinted me two days ago. Now everyone talks about how much we look alike. I enjoyed those comments. I’ve been hiding her wings with a big blanket wrapped around her if we leave the house. I don’t know, Castiel. I was just starting to enjoy the little life in my hands."

"I understand," Castiel replied in an effort to comfort him. "Listen to me. We always feel it when one of our kind dies, don’t we? And you hadn’t felt anything amiss with Katrina before they said anything, right?"

Hetanel went quiet for a time and then nodded. “Yes. You’re right. I didn’t feel anything wrong.”

Nodding in return, Castiel bounced his fledgling before he began to fuss. “They almost certainly said that to turn you against me in that moment. We’ll take you back to your home and you can see her right away.”

"Then you believe me now, that I was trying to help you," he replied. "I do believe you were right to take your child away from Heaven, which is why I did it too. I won’t let my little girl be a soldier against her will as I was. Never."

"You proved yourself here, Hetanel," Castiel said with an apologetic tone.

The rumble of an engine coming to life startled both Evelyn and James. Fledglings threatened to start crying as they all piled into the stolen minivan.

It only took ten minutes for Henatel to direct Dean back to his house. All seemed quiet as they pulled up to the curb. Hael volunteered to watch both their fledglings in the van if Castiel wanted to go investigate with the men, to which he gave her a grateful squeeze around the shoulders.

Hetanel bounded up the front steps followed by Dean and Castiel, rushing like any parent afraid for his child. Inside, none of them knew what to expect but they found an elderly Northern Cheyenne woman rocking a baby in the cramped living room. A massive sigh of relief passed through Hetanel as he grabbed little Katrina up into his embrace. Holding something that small and delicate made him look just as oversized and lumbering as Sam, both of them being equally matched in height.

"Hello, little one," he murmured. "I'm here now. Everything's okay."

"What's wrong? Who are these men?" the elderly woman asked in fear.

"These men are my friends, Grandma. This is Dean and this is Castiel," he explained, flashing quick eyes to them. "We were in a little fender bender. I just wanted to get home to my girl. It kinda shook me up."

"Oh no. Are you injured?" Her soft black eyes looked so concerned for him as if they'd had a long relationship.

Hetanel shook his head as he cuddled his fledgling. And then Castiel realized that the angel had been living with his vessel's family posing as the same man. The family had no idea that an angel inhabited that old woman's grandson. She had no idea her great-granddaughter was a fledgling angel with no mother. It stunned Castiel that he managed to pull it off without anyone guessing. Surely he accessed his vessel's memories and mannerisms in ways that other angels didn't bother to do.

"Ma'am," Dean began carefully, "your grandson and his baby need to come with us for a while. My dad owns an auto shop in South Dakota and I got him to give our friend here a job managing the shop. It's a good job with benefits and stuff. So we're gonna help him get on his feet."

Apparently Dean said all the right things because the old woman's face lit up with excitement. "Is that true, David?"

"Yep. I found a good job." Though he smiled at her, some of that smile turned grateful toward Dean for thinking of that story. "I'm gonna pack up my things and we're gonna head out tomorrow. I don't want you to worry though because I'll bring Katrina back for visits as often as I can."

"Yes, yes, it's about time you built a life for her away from this place," she enthused. "Oh, David, I'm so proud of you."

*****

Late in the night, Dean slept soundly beside Castiel in the motel room. They'd decided since everybody knew about them now, they might as well sleep together if they wanted. Of course, that didn't include lovemaking. Dean still wanted to take things slow in some areas, it seemed, even if everybody knew they were together.

So Castiel lounged against the headboard flipping channels while both Dean and baby James slept so hard that they almost breathed in unison. He hated admitting such a physical weakness to himself but something in him continuously grew more ... frustrated ... by the denial of a physical bond. He didn't love Dean just to sleep with him but all of the adrenalin built up from that day had nowhere to go. The angel wished he could sleep like his little family did.

Dean rolled over in his sleep and slung his arm over Castiel's waist. He looked down at the hunter's clear acceptance of their relationship in that unconscious state, yet something made him hesitant when he was awake. Castiel felt guilty that it bothered him at all. He'd agreed to give Dean time and to move their relationship slowly. But he knew he loved Dean too. Loving him made him want to be close, to kiss and touch.

"Your arm hurt?" mumbled Dean.

"What?" The angel glanced at the bandage wrapped around his forearm. His grace bled through the porous gauze again. He'd have to change the bandage again soon. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was." No further explanation came.

Castiel scooted down off the headboard until he settled closely under Dean's arm with his cheekbone brushing his nose. Silently, Dean nestled closer as well, lightly rubbing his nose against the side of Castiel's face. The angel stroked lazy lines along the forearm resting across his abdomen and he sank into the haze of contentment.

"I can't believe everybody knows now," he mumbled into Castiel's neck.

"Are you ... upset?" asked Castiel cautiously.

"Not really. It happened so fast that I had no time to really think about what I did," he said. "I was just relieved to see you. Relieved I got James out unhurt. I didn't think about it. I just grabbed you. Now everybody knows."

"They were going to find out eventually," Castiel replied.

"I know."

He cleared his throat and decided to come clean. "Sam already knew."

"What?" Dean rose up on his elbow.

"He saw us kiss through the window. Before that, he knew you felt something deeper than friendship and he kept telling me you'd come around eventually. I didn't believe him but..."

"Jesus, Sammy..." muttered Dean with a hand over his forehead. "How did he even know?"

"He's your brother. He knows you better than anyone," Castiel pointed out. "My point is it doesn't matter to him and I highly doubt it matters to Bobby either. Hael and Hetanel don't care. Angels by our very nature are indifferent to sexual orientation. The only one here who seems confused or ... or upset is you."

Dean's eyes flashed down at him again. "I'm not upset, Cas."

Brows furrowed in frustration, Castiel rolled over under Dean's arm and turned his back. He shoved his hands under the pillow. Tightness in his chest suggested that perhaps he was the upset one in the room but he didn't quite understand it.

"Hey, Cas?" Tenseness caught Dean's plea. "What'd I do?"

"I don't know," Castiel replied truthfully. "I'm frustrated."

Silence filled the minute space between their bodies as Dean stared down at him. Castiel felt his eyes burning into the side of his head. He didn't understand why he was making such a big deal about it.

"Like what kind of frustrated?" Dean eventually asked.

"I really don't know, Dean. Sometimes I feel like you push me away when I want to be closer," he replied in quiet phrases.

"Oh, you're talking about sex," Dean surmised. "Look, Cas--"

"--It's fine, Dean. Don't worry about it. I know you'll stop pushing me away when you've made peace with this change in your life." That much was in fact true, but nobody explained it to his vessel when Dean touched him a little too much. "I don't know what's wrong with me. It's not like we can have an intimate moment with the baby in the room right now. I'm being rather selfish. But I could have lost you today so..."

"You didn't lose me. I'm still here." Dean's voice softened to the borderland between a whisper and a pleading tone.

The hunter's body weight leaned onto Castiel, fitting snugly behind him. Castiel shivered as Dean's soft lips pressed to the back of his neck. He kissed a lazy, slow trail across his neck to a sensitive bit of flesh beneath his ear that he didn't even know felt that way.

"Dean, this is the wrong way to dissuade me," murmured Castiel. His words came out a bit slurred as if he was drunk.

"We'll be home tomorrow," whispered Dean. "I don't mean to push you away."

Chapter Text

The minivan emptied in Bobby's yard without Castiel hardly looking up from hands folded in his lap. He couldn't get the previous night out of his mind, especially since Dean reverted back to buddy talk and no touching at all. Perhaps, he thought in an attempt to console himself, Dean felt awkward about everybody knowing they were together in a romantic bond.

Dean climbed into the van behind the passenger seat and unbuckled James from his car seat. "Cas?" he said cautiously. "What's with you today?"

"What? Oh, my apologies. I could have gotten James." He slid out of the van and leaned back against the door. "Is he still asleep?"

"Yeah." Dean stood straight again, holding the fledgling to his chest. He came within a foot of Castiel and eyed him intently. "You okay?" The tone of his question softened to the first private tenderness between them all day.

Castiel shuffled where he stood, uncomfortable. "I suppose you could say I'm embarrassed. I'm unaccustomed to those emotions. Or any emotions. I don’t like this new aspect of my personality." But he reminded himself that by welcoming the good emotions of love and loyalty, he had to walk through the bad emotions as well.

"Because of last night?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Castiel, avoiding eye contact.

"Don't. Seriously, Cas. It's normal ... you know ... what happened. Just makes you more human." Dean stepped closer, pointing James slightly away from them as if he didn't want the fledgling to hear - close though that Castiel felt his breath on his cheek. "You know you never showed that kind of want before? I mean, you’re not the most expressive guy. Angel. Whatever. Point is, Cas, I like knowing you want me that much. It’s real. It’s not some random person in a bar. It’s feels a lot more … intense. And maybe that’s why I’m dragging my feet. I’m not used to it."

Relief flooded through Castiel’s limbs as Dean explained. He nodded and offered a small smile. “Then you’re not angry?”

"Hell no." Dean’s body tilted forward and he pressed a lingering kiss to Castiel’s mouth. "We’re home. We’re not hurt too bad. The rugrat’s fat and happy. Life’s pretty damn sweet right now." He kissed Castiel again. "Now we got a bunch of people in the house and no privacy, but I’m gonna get us some time. Maybe Sammy can be conned into babysitting or something. You ask him."

Castiel smiled a little wider. “Is it acceptable to leave James with a babysitter this young?”

"I don’t think you’re ever gonna be ready but you gotta have time for yourself too." Dean’s mouth quirked up into a sly half-smile. "You really gonna deny me now that I’m ready?"

"You’re ready?" Astonished, Castiel inhaled a sharp, small breath and felt his stomach jump.

"Yep, I think so," replied Dean. He chuckled. "You look terrified."

"I-I’m not," he lied.

"Well, I am." And he wore his fear proudly. A new experience. Something real to ground him in a world without monsters.

A strange jittery air followed Castiel into the house. Dean diverted upstairs, presumably to put the fledgling down so long as he snoozed, but Castiel needed to find Sam right away. Something told him to firm up these plans before Dean had second thoughts.

He found Sam in the living room with Hentanel, showing him around the place. They’d agreed that Hentanel and Katrina would move into a motel for the time being while they gathered up the other runaways but he’d certainly be around them quite often. Castiel, still rather jittery and anxious, grabbed Sam by the sleeve and dragged him toward the kitchen.

"I need to speak to you, Sam," he said urgently.

"Yeah, sure, Cas. Hey!" The younger brother laughed at the way Castiel yanked him into the kitchen.

"Wait, Castiel, there’s an important matter I need to consult with you about as well," Hentanel interrupted. He followed them into the kitchen at a respectful distance. That was the thing about Hentanel. For an angel, he had an astounding sense of politeness and an understanding of human boundaries. "Do you mind?"

"What is it?" Castiel tried not to sound irritated but his mind remained firmly focused on convincing Sam to watch the baby.

Hentanel glanced at Sam cautiously before he answered. “Are you aware that Hael is sick?”

The mention of her name drew Sam out of the refrigerator so fast that Castiel felt a breeze as he spun. “Cas, I thought you said angels don’t get sick.”

"I said we don’t get sick in the way that you think," he said to Sam, and then turned back to Hetanel. "Yes, I’m aware. I haven’t discovered what it is yet though. I’ve been rather preoccupied."

"Sure, sure, I understand." Hetanel nodded. "She’s upstairs lying down on that sofa in the room with the crib right now, yet we don’t get tired. She wouldn’t fight with us at the warehouse either. I didn't really put it all together until I realized the color of her wings has a strange faded pallor. Almost a gray film."

"Didn't you notice that last week, Cas?" reflected Sam. "Faded peacock wings or something like that?"

"Yes," he admitted, "but I hadn't given enough time to considering the cause. I know now where Hetanel is going with this though." A fearful sense of dread passed through his true form contained within his vessel.

"What the hell does that mean? What’s wrong with her?" Sam pressed, eyes darting between the angel with the long black ponytail and the angel with the blue eyes.

Hetanel’s voice lowered so no one outside of the kitchen could hear them. “Did you ask her exactly how she escaped?”

"No. I thought she had a pass like us," replied Castiel in an equally discreet tone.

Nodding, the angel in the Native American vessel crossed arms over his chest and paused a moment to piece everything together. "The only theory that makes sense is that Hael jumped through one of the hollows and caught a serpent."

"Wonderful," muttered Castiel disparagingly. He leaned back against the kitchen table and rubbed the tension from his forehead. "And I was going to ask Sam to babysit James tonight so I could get away with Dean. We need a break. But—"

"—No, go ahead and go out tonight. She can't know we think she's sick, at least until we figure out a plan," countered Hetanel as he emphatically shook his head. "You know stress will accelerate the draining process. She has to be kept happy and quiet."

"Yes, yes, you’re right. Of course," Castiel agreed.

"Wait. Stop. Just stop a damn minute." Sam thrust his hands out, exasperated by the confusing revelations. "Someone please tell me what the hell’s going on here. What are the hollows, why is she sick, and what the hell is this serpent? It’s in her? Like in her in her?"

Clearly, Sam had become quite taken with Hael since she came to stay with them. Castiel draped a hand on his shoulder, secretly calming him without his knowledge. Morally questionable, possibly, but Sam easily drove his worries to a level of stress that affected his heart, though he never knew it. Maybe one day Castiel would explain what he sensed about Sam’s heart, but in that moment, he merely infused him with calming vibrations.

"Most angels haven't descended to Earth in hundreds or thousands of years, Sam. We're forbidden from leaving Heaven without specially obtained permission or receiving orders from our superiors." Castiel kept his voice at a soothing level to placate the younger Winchester, knowing the frightful story ahead.

"Hael probably hasn’t been down here in over a hundred years. The beginning of the Impressionist movement, I’d guess. That seems like her work," added Hetanel with a light shrug. "It means she escaped Heaven without permission. There are only two ways to do that."

"How?" demanded Sam. "Just give it to me straight."

Castiel hesitated. It was too horrific to think about, yet echoes of stories from when he was a fledgling flashed through his mind. Innocent stories of angelic childhood were disguised as terrifying warnings to stay away from the hollows.

Hetanel explained in a clinical tone, perhaps to detach himself. "God established six holes in Heaven's floor as possible routes for us to leave in order to test the faith and loyalty of all angels. We're not supposed to want to leave but some do just to have the freedom to come and go, to interact with mankind. The holes are called hollows. But in order to escape through one of the hollows, we have to jump through a tunnel covered by creatures you can't fathom as a human. We call them serpents. Touching a serpent is lethal. It burrows into the angel’s grace and devours from the inside out. It’s a very long and painful ending. However, if the angel leaps just right through the hollow, the creatures can’t reach and the angel will go to Earth, grace in tact."

Sam visibly paled. “Like parasites?”

"Yes, in a way," replied Castiel. "Think of a parasite that resembles an octopus, I suppose."

"Yes, an octopus is probably the closest Earth creature. Perhaps a squid or jellyfish," Hentanel theorized.

Soberly, Castiel nodded. “Now imagine it attaching to your central nervous system and sucking the life out of you. It’s a constant dull ache, which, I suppose, is why Hael can’t seem to sit still very long. It’s terrible. Just terrible. God truly intended to punish angels for leaving Heaven without permission. The only other way to leave is to rip out our graces and be reborn as humans, like Anna did. Either way, choosing to leave without permission almost always spells a death sentence for the angel."

"How did you two get out?" Sam asked, his mind furiously making sense of it all.

"I had an existing pass because I'm technically assigned to guide Dean," replied Castiel. "Nobody changed my orders or ended them after the apocalypse. It's a mess up there."

"I had a long-standing pass too," Hetanel said. "I guide the indigenous humans of the Americas."

"Okay," Sam told himself as he rubbed his tense hands together. "Then some of the other runaway angels might be sick too. How do we kill these serpent things?"

"I don't know," Castiel admitted.

"I don't either," added Hetanel, though he sounded more hopeful. "But being stationed to guide indigenous humans has taught me a great deal about healing. If there’s a way to heal her, I’m going to find it."

"Agreed." A solid breath of determination revived Castiel. "We’re going to find a way to help her."

"We all will," stated Sam as if shoving his foot through the door. They weren’t going to be able to dissuade him from being involved.

"Good." The plans already began forming in Hetanel’s head. To both if them, he continued, "In the meantime, we must go about our business without suggesting that we know she has a serpent. Do not distress her in this condition. We must limit the exposure of the fledglings as well. That will be harder." He considered the matter for a moment. "Castiel, go on with your plans to go out with Dean tonight. I’ll volunteer to watch James with my Katrina and that way both our fledglings won’t be in the house. They’ll be at the motel with me."

"And tomorrow, we’ll have to carefully question her about how she left Heaven," Castiel said, amending the plan. "It sounds reasonable to me."

"I’ll drive you to the motel," Sam volunteered, "but I’m staying here with Hael otherwise. She can’t be alone if she’s sick. I'll start digging up lore on Heaven's serpents with Bobby tonight."

"You’re the best choice to look after her," said Castiel. "Humans are immune to the serpents of Heaven. I’m afraid Hetanel, Katrina, James, and I are all at risk though. We’ll have to take great care in how we interact with her for now."

The grim determination of a man who nursed his brother through various terrifying illness of both the natural and supernatural kind came through Sam in that moment. His thin mouth flattened even more and he offered a single sharp nod. Castiel knew better than to try and dissuade him. Once he made a decision, he saw it through to the end.

"I’ll take care of her," he said.

*****

Castiel swiped Dean’s phone off the nightstand the second the hunter went to the bathroom. He moved to the hotel room window and quickly tried to dial Hetanel for the fifth time that night.

Silent and stealthy, Dean crept up behind him and reached around to snatch the phone away. An arm snaked around Castiel’s shoulders and another around his abdomen.

"Cas," he said into his neck from behind, "you’ve called the guy like four times tonight. The baby’s cool. He’s hangin’ out in a playpen with a cute chick. It’s all good. Don’t worry so much."

"We’ve never left him in the care of anyone outside of the family before," Castiel replied quietly, hooking a hand over the forearm across his chest.

"Yeah but Hetanel’s a cool, chill dude. He knows what he’s doing. James has been fine every other time you’ve called." Dean’s smooth lips kissed along the side of Castiel’s throat. "We’re probably not gonna get too many chances like this. Gotta make the most of it."

Of course Dean had no idea how right he was, Castiel realized as he spun around in his embrace. He’d elected not to tell Dean about Hael just for that night. There was nothing they could do until the next day at the very least and he didn’t want to add more stress on a man who already considered himself a caretaker for far too many people. He never got enough credit for his selflessness, Castiel reflected with some emotion as he touched his face. Really, he never took any credit for any of the people he rescued or now the fledgling angels he shepherded.

"I’m sorry," Castiel said.

"Don’t be. You love your kid." A faintly smiling kiss found Castiel’s mouth. "It’s cool to see."

"Well, I love you too and I don’t mean to neglect you." The words tumbled out of Castiel’s mouth as naturally as breathing but he realized in the next beat that they’d never said anything like that before. He stared a bit dumbly.

Dean stared a bit dumbly too. He must have been taken aback by the unexpected declaration just like Castiel was. Silence built into a tense air between them and Castiel immediately regretted saying it. He didn’t pretend to know a lot about humans but he’d been observing them long enough to know that huge emphasis was placed on the first utterance of I love you. The words carried a great deal of weight with humans and they never said it that soon in a romantic bond even if they felt it.

Just as he was about to rush into another apology for being so awkward, Dean slung his arms around him and yanked him into an impossibly tight embrace. He didn’t say anything and maybe he couldn’t, but the kiss that found Castiel’s mouth said more than words. Dean’s fingers curled around the back of his head and gripped a fistful of his shirt at the base of his spine. They’d never kissed that long or with such intensity before. Castiel knew that was it. Everything was about to change for both of them.

"Are you certain?" Castiel whispered breathlessly as his hand skimmed down Dean’s face.

"Yeah," Dean whispered back. "You sure?"

"I am." He’d been sure for much longer than he ever wanted to say. Angels weren’t supposed to desire their human charges. It was wrong. But the way he felt about Dean came from sigh a pure place that he couldn’t fathom it being a sin.

For the first time, Dean truly looked nervous. And Castiel couldn’t quite pinpoint his emotion but he guessed it amounted to nervousness as well.

"You mean what you said?" asked Dean.

Castiel nodded.

"Wow…" The astonishment in Dean’s eyes suggested he’d never been told I love you before, or maybe he’d never quite reciprocated it. He looked at Castiel as if seeing a revelation for the first time.

"Do you?" Castiel asked barely above a whisper.

"Do I…" Dean’s forehead wrinkled. He wasn’t the greatest at verbalizing anything remotely connected to emotions. He licked his lips and stared down at their hands, which migrated together into a knot. "I…"

TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter Text

"Every day you say something that knocks me on my ass," Dean chuckled. He fidgeted, occasionally making eye contact, but he stammered his way through answering the question. The question. “Hell, Cas, you know I suck at words. You kinda put me on the spot here.”

"I’m sorry, Dean. It was an impulsive question. My people skills, you know…" The wind out of his sails, Castiel sat on the edge of the bed and stared up at Dean as he contemplated how to dig himself out of the hole. People didn’t just ask if they loved each other, it seemed. “I suppose we’re both a bit inept at how to do this … this being together. It’s harder than I expected. My instinct tries to make everything simpler than it is, I think. People have these rules that I just … I seem to lack understanding.”

Dean listened. He earnestly listened to him babble. Castiel knew by the stillness in the colors washing through his soul’s inner light. They all blended together in a cool, tranquil pale blue, much like the light of his own grace.

"Cas, don’t worry so much." One of Dean’s knees slid onto the mattress and then the other followed, framing Castiel’s hips. There he sat across his thighs with hands laced together around the back of his neck. "Rules suck. As much as you don’t know what you’re doing, neither do I, because I just don’t…."

"You don’t let anybody get close," Castiel said for him.

"Yeah." Nodding, Dean’s posture relaxed over him and rested their foreheads together. He sighed heavily. "I do," he murmured, turning his head for a kiss.

Castiel’s thoughts blurred with being so completely surrounded by Dean’s weight across his lap, his hands in his hair, and the faint taste of the beer he’d consumed with dinner. “You do what?” he managed to ask before the last semblance of coherent thought got away from him.

"Your question. I do," came Dean’s low response into the line of Castiel’s neck that he seemed intent on kissing until little pleasurable bruises rose.

It wasn’t exactly the declaration of love he sought but he felt it in there somewhere. He really didn’t care anymore as long as Dean kept nibbling his neck like an early morning grapefruit. The room faded into something warm and inviting without the need to connect coherent thoughts, allowing Castiel the simplicity and freedom of sensation.

Hands twisted under the hem of Dean’s shirt, easily yanking it over his head. Dean followed his lead and the new sensation of bare chest against bare chest pushed Castiel further into very human urges.

Dean pushed him back without a word and it wasn’t until the cool sheets hit his skin that he realized it was really going to happen. Of all the heavenly laws he could break, carnally knowing a human was up there with the blasphemy of choosing to fall. But as their clothes peeled away along with their inhibitions, each touch, each kiss, each burst of new and unexpected pleasure arrived in the deep and abiding bond they shared. An act created out of love should never have been forced to the bottom of the swamp with blasphemy and betrayal.

Castiel would never see the universe in the same light again.

*****

He actually passed for human by himself. The gas station clerk paid no mind as he carefully ordered two large coffees and chose packages of little powdery donuts he’d seen Dean eat on the road before. And he paid for it all quite easily with money he borrowed from Dean’s wallet as he slept back in the hotel room. Passing for human and buying breakfast without help made him feel amazing. Awesome, as Dean would say.

Well, not as awesome as last night. But great nonetheless.

Light rain drizzled as Castiel trotted across the street with two coffees and donuts. He did feel more human after what he did the previous night. Perhaps it was the unusual flood of emotion that accompanied the overpowering physical sensations of coupling. He tested out a few different words for the act in his mind as he strolled back to the hotel but none of them sounded like anything humans used in the last century. Still, he needed to figure it out and understand everything about what he did.

He stuck the card in the lock and pushed open the door, expecting that Dean would still be asleep. But the hunter sat on the end of the bed wearing his boxers with his hands folded beneath his chin. The briefest second that Castiel caught his unguarded expression, his tense posture, the angel knew something ate at him.

Dean stood upright too quickly. He plastered a smile on his face that made Castiel’s stomach burn with anxiety. Strange how his vessel always managed to manifest his moods.

"Hey," the hunter said.

"Hello, Dean. I purchased coffee and donuts," replied Castiel as he read the dizzying motion of Dean’s agitated soul.

"Great. I’m starving."

Skeptical at his over-acting, Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”

"Sure, why?" But Dean occupied himself with ripping open cellophane around his donuts instead of looking Castiel in the eye.

Castiel observed him in silence while he nibbled the first two donuts without looking up once. The hunter clearly seemed ill at ease and he remained stiff. Whatever bothered him appeared to be a fight at hiding it from Castiel, which, he must have known, was virtually impossible. Castiel thought everything had been wonderful through the night but the light of day changed Dean somehow.

"Dean…."

"Don’t worry ‘bout it." He popped half of the third donut in his mouth.

Then Castiel realized whatever bothered Dean was about him. “You weren’t ready for this, were you?” That had to be it. He knew Dean from the inside out and almost nothing got to him that way.

Dean said nothing, though the chewing motion of his jaw slowed.

"That’s it, isn’t it?" Happiness and contentment plunged all at once into something horribly dark. Anger. Mortification. Castiel’s hand stretched over his forehead and shuffled around the room, uncertain of how to even express those ugly emotions. He spoke again, not recognizing the tension and heightened quality in his own voice. "Why would you do this if you weren’t ready? I told you I would wait and I meant it!"

"You were unhappy," replied Dean so calmly that it had to mean fear.

"So you allowed me to push you into something you weren’t yet prepared to do?" He paced faster, hands planted on his hips. "I feel like a predator now! This manner of bonding was created to physically express love and all of you humans have lost sight of that. Letting me push you too hard isn't love!"

"No, Cas, I saw you were unhappy and I knew what would fix it. That is love, when someone puts the other person’s happiness above theirs.”

"What about your happiness? How can I be happy knowing you did something you didn’t want to do?” But as he asked those questions, his anger melted into a puddle of insecurity and sadness. His heightened tone softened as his body seemed to fold in on itself. “Dean, why don’t you want to do this? Just tell me. Perhaps you made a mistake.”

Frustrated sighing answered him as Dean rubbed the stubble over his jaw.

"Never mind. We don’t have time for this now." Castiel gathered up his things, unable to look at that face he loved entirely too much, it seemed. "Hetanel is expecting us. We have work to do."

"Cas…."

But Castiel left him in the hotel room and furiously stalked to the parking lot. He waited in the Impala’s passenger seat for Dean to get dressed and get out of there. Although he didn’t exactly mean it when he accused Dean of making him feel like a predator, he was indescribably wounded and infuriated with the idea of something so joyous for him simply being an appeasement tool for Dean. He had expressed his frustration, which apparently Dean heard as a threat leave if he didn’t satisfy that urge sooner. That had to be the reason.

Riding across town together proved to be one of the most awkward experiences of Castiel’s time on Earth. Dean didn’t speak at all and neither did he. Every time he thought of how that first sexual experience was always going to be tainted, the more his anger flared in bursts. And Dean knew it too. Once in a while, he glanced over at the passenger seat and the shades of his soul turned so diluted and pale that it looked like he was dying on the inside.

“I touched my grace yesterday,” Castiel impulsively muttered.

"Why?" Dean’s brows knitted together in confusion.

"Sam was upset. I had the power to calm his heart rhythm, so I did. It was reckless, yes, but Sam is my friend. I worry about stress damaging his heart." He said it so nonchalantly, even shrugging as if it was no big deal.

"And why was Sammy that upset?"

"Because Hael is sick. She has a parasite that’s quite contagious to angels and might even kill her," Castiel replied. "He’s quite fond of her. And I'm tired of hiding all the time. I wanted to feel my grace for a moment and remember what I am. It was irresponsible but I'm not afraid. If my superiors come, I'll deal with it."

Dean’s forehead lifted, completely stunned by the news. His mind spun through a thousand different possibilities. Castiel watched it with some measure of detachment. He knew exactly what he was doing. Casually, he adjusted his shirt and reclined in the seat.

"It’s an unpleasant feeling not knowing the whole truth, isn’t it?" The question came with blue eyes squarely focused on Dean’s profile.

The hunter took a double take at the angel. “Are you trying to start a fight, Cas? You’re trying to piss me off. Is that what we’re doing here?”

Castiel offered no response but stared straight ahead at the road. Honestly, he didn’t know why he did that. Everything about Dean twisted around his emotions and he didn’t know what to do with them. Sometimes he couldn’t control them and he ended up trying to make people around him feel pain with him. At least then it wouldn’t be such an isolating experience. The fact that Dean didn’t want to have sexual intercourse with him last night despite acting like he did made him feel more isolated than ever before. He wondered if he was the only one actually enjoying their relationship.

The Impala pulled into the motel where Hetanel made his temporary home. Dean parked the car and shut off the engine, but he didn’t move to get out. He simply sat there staring at his steering wheel as miserably as a scolded puppy.

"Listen, Cas," he began in a submissive tone, "I didn’t mean for things to go down this way. I was trying to give you what you wanted, to make you happy, because I do … I do love you. Okay? I do."

"I know," replied Castiel quietly.

"But doing that, going that far, it means something."

"It means you love me," the angel replied.

Dean shook his head. “It means I love a man.”

The implications of how Dean corrected him pieced together in his mind. “So as long as you didn’t engage in intercourse with me, people wouldn’t call you homosexual. That's what you're saying, right? Then you’re letting ridiculous human labels rob both of us of happiness, Dean. Can you understand that? Last night was the happiest night of my life, as cliché as I assume that sounds. I needed you to be happy with me. It was something for us that nobody else could experience. Just us. But now to know you only did it just to make me happy? Not even because you wanted it too? I can’t tell you how badly that hurts.”

"I did want it. I do," argued Dean. "You and me - we’re good together. I mean really good. Spine-shattering good." Pink tinged his cheeks and his lips twitched at a memory shining in his eyes. "People see me one way and now I’m going a while other way. Not sleeping together meant I wouldn’t have to answer questions or see the weird looks or have to explain what happened in me that changed."

"So don’t," Castiel replied with the sort of cemented certainty of an angel who hadn’t dealt with a lifetime of human society pressure. "Why must you answer questions about the intricacies of our bond? Why must people even ask such questions? Other people aren't walking through this life together. We are. It’s just you and me. And James."

For a minute, Dean didn’t move or say a word. He seemed to turn over the entire matter in his mind, wrestling with it, shoving it to the ground, and putting it into submission. “You’re right,” he whispered with a slow nod. “I know. You’re right.”

Castiel took his point a step further. “James needs father figures who are certain about their hearts. He already emulates you.” He allowed Dean a moment to think about that. “I’m not telling you to be with me for him. I’m not telling you to end our bond either. Only you can make those choices. I’m simply saying that you cannot do these things with secrets and disguised motives. Of course, Dean, I don’t know much at all about human amorous bonds but I know intercourse without full truth is a lie. It’s not a half-truth. It’s not honorable. It’s a lie. We cannot do that to each other. You’re the only one I trust completely, so I’m asking you not to take that away from me.”

The colors in Dean’s soul blended into that pale blue shade of careful attention the way he gave Castiel his full mind. Their eyes met across the bench seat and Dean’s expression softened. The lines faded and smoothed around his eyes and across his forehead. He pursed his lips together in a tender, small smile as his hand lightly grasped the angel’s jaw. He nodded in silence and Castiel felt the dull ache of Dean’s remorse in his chest.

"You’re nuts if you think me breaking up with you is even on the table," murmured Dean. "You’re the best thing to ever happen to me. You and the baby make me want to be a better man."

A smile bloomed even though Castiel didn’t want Dean to be let off the hook yet. “We’re not doing this again unless you initiate it,” he decided for them. “You may have done it to make me happy, but I can’t enjoy it if I don’t feel like you’re happy too.” He cracked open the car door, saying, “And you’re going to make this up to me, Dean.”

The hunter chuckled. His presence felt lighter - unburdened. “You know I will.”

A lighter bounce in Castiel's step brought him to Hetanel's door with Dean close by. He knocked, eager to see his fledgling son. They managed to defuse a potentially explosive conflict, and even though his feelings still stung, it actually gave him hope that it wouldn't be a fleeting affair. For Dean not to storm off and get drunk instead, that was a big deal. Even Castiel understood that.

Dean stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. "So putting everything else aside," he said with a smirk, "was it good for you?"

Laughter came out first. He felt his face burn with the hot flash of remembering the way Dean's pelvis seemed to know exactly how to push Castiel over the edge. He guessed the claw marks still scorched Dean's rib cage long after the heat of the moment.

"Uh-huh. I'll take that as an awesome review," Dean said as he puffed out his chest.

"Are you going to boast and swagger like this every time?"

"Pretty much."

Hetanel swung open the door and greeted them with a bright smile. "Good morning," he said. "Come in. I was just packing a bag for the day. Did you have a pleasant evening?"

"Yep," Dean said with a grinning nod.

The second Castiel saw James wriggling happily on the bed between a protective border of pillows, he forgot all sense of social decorum, and went straight for his child. He scooped up the fledgling to his chest, smiling at the way his pearly white wings swung back and forth, and he made happy little grunting noises on his shoulder. James smelled freshly bathed and he wore a clean set of clothes, much to Castiel's relief. He cuddled the fledgling and surprised himself with the depth of love he could experience for other beings.

The scene confused Hetanel, it seemed, as he tilted his head.

"First overnighter without the kid," Dean explained to him, absently rubbing Castiel's shoulder.

"Oh, okay." Nodding, it seemed to make sense for Hetanel then.

Castiel rested the fledgling along his forearm and held him by the back of his head and his bottom. He looked over James, not that he expected Hetanel to do anything bad or neglect him, but he always worried for his child's safety.

"What's this in your mouth?" he asked, noticing a dark purple plastic object rolling over his mouth as he sucked on it.

"A binky, Cas," said Dean, casually leaning against a wall.

"I had an extra one and thought James might enjoy it. It's just like a false sense of having a bottle." To explain it, Hetanel popped the binky out of James' mouth and showed Castiel what resembled a bottle's nipple. "I learned pretty quick that Katrina's happier with something in her mouth. Sometimes it stops her crying when nothing else will. James really likes it too." He popped it back in James' mouth and the fledgling resumed sucking on it without missing a beat.

"Oh, well, thank you. That's very kind," Castiel said.

Hetanel smiled. "Not a problem. He's very well-behaved." He grabbed a bag off the bed and swung it over his shoulder, and then gathered up his own little girl in a pink floral dress. "Are we ready to go?"

*****

The quiet bubble around Bobby's home proved deceiving before they even got out of the Impala. Sam met them on the porch, squeezing and rubbing his hands together with thin worry lines streaking his forehead. Dean passed off the car seat to Castiel as Hetanel trailed behind with Katrina's car seat hooked over his forearm.

"What's up?" the older brother asked the younger one.

"Hael," replied Sam, clearly upset. "I was having cereal in the kitchen after my run like I always do and I heard her coming downstairs, okay, but then there was a really loud bang. So I went to look and I found her sprawled on the floor at the bottom of the stairs."

"What?" An electrical sense of dread spiked up Castiel's spine.

"Yeah." Sam sharply exhaled. "She's okay, I guess. I mean, she says she's okay. I carried her to the couch in the living room and she wanted a blanket. She said she's cold. I asked her what happened and she said she knows she's sick, and she knows we know she's sick. She said she got really dizzy on the stairs and fell down the last third of them. Now she's saying she's too weak to walk back upstairs right now. Even Bobby's worried. He's rearranging that side of the living room as we speak with a little table and pillows and stuff. I dunno what's with him anymore. He's gone soft. And I'm trying to watch her kid but I don't really know what I'm doing."

"What the hell's happening to her?" Dean looked to Castiel and Hetanel for answers. "Is she dying?"

"Oh God," blurted Sam, his voice surprising him in its shakiness.

"No, no. Not yet anyway," Hetanel replied.

The news sank Castiel into a swamp of worry and empathy for one of his own kind suffering that much. He peered down at James so innocently rocking his new binky as he curled up in the car seat hooked over Castiel's arm. He adjusted the blanket as if it might protect him.

"Second stage," he said quietly.

Hetanel nodded. "I agree."

"Explain," Sam ordered.

"The first stage is incubation. The serpent takes root," Castiel said, feeling the need to be the one to explain it to his friend. "The second stage is feeding, which is when serious symptoms first appear as the serpent begins draining the grace in earnest. It's the longest stage of the process. It can take months and months. Sometimes years."

He watched Sam struggle with the news. "And the third stage?"

"Paralysis and death," answered Hentanel.

"Great," muttered Dean. "This is the contagious thing you were talking about, Cas."

"Yes," he said.

Dean nodded as he climbed the porch steps. "We're gonna fix it, damn it. That fledgling's not growing up without a mother. I'm the poster child for why that's a shitty idea."

As they all filed into the house, Castiel patted Sam's shoulder. He didn't quite know how to offer comfort but the younger Winchester obviously felt rather torn up about Hael's illness. Finding her in that deteriorated condition at the bottom of the stairs must have been a traumatizing experience. He wondered if Sam felt an attraction to Hael the way he did for Dean in the early days of knowing him. Time wasn't on Sam's side though. He didn't have five years to come around.

"Don't worry. I'm here to help now," Castiel said quietly, hoping his natural awkwardness didn't put Sam off.

"Figure out how to cure her. That's the help she needs," Sam replied.

Chapter Text

Another morning, another shower. Castiel stood under the hot water much longer than necessary just to feel the heat pelting his skin. It was, to him, what humans called a guilty pleasure but angels found such habits to be far beneath their dignity.

When the hot water ran cold, he stepped into the steamy bathroom and dried himself off with one of the new fluffy towels Dean bought for the house. Another set of Dean’s clothes encased him with little effort. Perhaps one day he would buy his own, but not before James had absolutely everything he needed. And not before he figured out how to get his own job.

As he opened the bathroom door, he found Dean lingering around in the hallway. He tilted his head, confused, and said, “What are you doing here?”

"The baby’s up," Dean replied.

That confused him even more. “But you were just in there.”

Shrugging, the slightest glimpse of a smirk lifted the fullness of Dean’s lips. “I dunno, Cas. He wants you.” The smile fully formed in spite of his best effort to contain it, apparently. “Better see what Squirt needs.”

Dean rolled off the wall and ambled downstairs before Castiel could question him. It baffled and annoyed the angel that he was just in the bedroom and hadn’t bothered to take care of the fledgling. It wasn’t like Castiel did the laundry, prepared five trillion bottles, changed an endless mountain of diapers, all while Dean played—

James wasn’t even awake. He slept soundly on his tummy in a narrow portable crib at the end of Dean’s bed, so relaxed that his binky nearly rolled out of his mouth. Irritated, Castiel nearly left the fledgling to sleep in peace, but he stopped short, his attention drawn to an envelope balanced on the roundness of James’ little bottom. He unfolded a page inside and saw Dean’s familiar tight, uniformed handwriting scrawled in perfect, even lines.

"Dear Daddy," began the letter. Castiel’s knees gave way and he sank onto the edge of the bed. A wave of emotion took him by surprise, knocking him into numbness for a moment before he tried reading it again.[[MORE]]

Dear Daddy,

I’m only a tiny thing and I can’t talk yet, so I’m writing a note. I’m very lucky that you’re my daddy because I know you’ll let me be whatever I want when I’m big and you’ll do whatever it takes to give me a happy life. You never planned to be a daddy but I think it’s the most important thing you’ve ever done. And I like the songs you sing and the stories you tell in secret even though Dean says he can hear you sometimes too.

I had a bottle with Dean this morning while you were in the shower. We talk about a lot of stuff when you’re not looking. He never thought he was going to be a daddy either, not because he didn’t want it but because he didn’t think he deserved it. I guess he’s done some real bad stuff before I was born. Bad guys aren’t supposed to keep families.

The truth is Dean wants to be my daddy too, for my whole life. He loves you very much but he doesn’t know how to say it most of the time. I guess we took him by surprise. He doesn’t think he deserves us, but if we love him back, he promises to give his life to us. He knows you get upset and frustrated when he doesn’t do the right thing too. Sometimes he doesn’t even know how to do the right thing because all this is a life he never knew he needed so much. And he knows he’s going to screw up a lot but he wants to be with us. He’s so sorry he hurt you.

I love you whether it’s just you and me, or you, me, and Dean. You saved my life when you took me away from Heaven and I think you’re the best daddy in the world. It’s okay to want something for yourself too. I’m still going to be a happy baby. Happy babies always burp the loudest after one of Dean’s yummy bottles! My tummy is full and I will sleep for a few hours. Dean is in the basement washing my clothes because I had a poopy diaper that exploded on him this morning. Oops.

Love,
James

Of all the things Castiel could have predicted from Dean, that sweet, funny, touching letter penned by "James" was the very last one of them. He knew that man better than he knew himself, having put him back together piece by piece after pulling him out of Hell, but he could not predict the growth of a human soul. He stared at the letter, reading it the second and third time, as well as retracing the lingering marks left behind by Dean’s soul light on the page. Castiel wanted Dean’s love so bad he could taste it like a kiss that never nourished him enough.

He leaned over the edge of the crib and stared at his sleeping child. Wings spread from his back across his arms like a first blanket beneath the knitted quilt. The soft rise and fall of his breathing meant he would not wake for quite some time.

Leaving the bedroom door open for the sleeping baby, he poked his head in Sam’s room and asked him to come find him if James cried at all. Sam agreed even though he clearly hadn’t been sleeping enough. Dark circles under his eyes painted a picture of worry for Hael and Evelyn. That was on his agenda that day too. First thing was first though.

In the basement, Dean sat on the dryer as the washer spun a load of clothes. He read a rather thick book and Castiel knew immediately that he hid from his family so he could devour another volume.

"Hello, Dean."

Only a soft smile answered Castiel - an endearingly anxious one at that.

"What are you reading this time?"

Wordlessly, Dean held up his book and showed Castiel the title.

"The Complete Poems and Selected Letters of John Keats," Castiel read aloud, examining a rather wistful portrait of the poet on the cover. "You seem to favor poetry."

"Yeah. These things pack a lot of punch for not using too many words. I like that," replied Dean. "Besides, you still have my Whitman book."

Castiel leaned in close to the dryer. He scanned the poem and read quietly out loud, "When I have fears that I may cease to be; Before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain; Before high piled books, in charact’ry; Hold like rich garners the full-ripen’d grain; When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face; Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance; And think that I may never live to trace; Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour! That I shall never look upon thee more; Never have relish in the faery power; Of unreflecting love!—then on the shore; Of the wide world I stand alone, and think; Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink."

The stillness in Dean led to a faint smile as he listened to Castiel recite the poem. "He's talking about being afraid of dying young before he does everything he wants, and he's talking about the fears of never seeing a girl again. I guess he had a girl. He writes about her a lot."

"Fanny Brawne."

"What?"

Castiel gently took the book from his hands and set it aside. "Her name was Fanny Brawne. He died before they could be married." His hands braced on either side of Dean's hips sitting on the dryer and he stared up at those green eyes. "You don't have to hide in a dark, dirty basement with the washer and dryer to read your books."

"Sure I do," Dean said with a shrug.

It didn't seem to even occur to Dean that he could be the best hunter in the world and well-read and intelligent at the same time. Castiel suspected John Winchester had something to do with it, but he decided not to push the conversation at the moment.

They fell into silence for a time. Castiel traced aimless circles along Dean's forearm with his fingertips and mentally pieced together what he needed to say. Affection brought Dean closer until his temple brushed Castiel's forehead. A stray kiss passed between them. Something strange and intoxicating about being that close while sharing easy silence made Castiel reluctant to speak. But they had to talk.

"You're wrong, you know," Castiel murmured.

"About what?"

"Being a bad guy, as you called it. You're not."

It hit Dean with a shift in his presence, turning uneasy and avoiding Castiel's eyes. "Yeah, I am."

"You have always acted for the protection of the innocent and those you love. No bad can come out of that," he argued in a deliberate tone with hopes that Dean caught his meaning. "I wouldn't raise my child with a bad guy."

Dean's eyes flashed to his face. Questions brought lines along the skin between his eyes but he said nothing. He squeezed Castiel's hand.

"I was thinking," Castiel went on after a moment. "James doesn't have a surname and he'll need one if he will someday attend school with human children. I wondered if Winchester was available."

"You ... you want James to have my name?" Dean asked quietly.

"We have a child together. He should have your name."

A flood of light washed over Dean's soul so thoroughly that it nearly blocked out Castiel's perception of his body seated on the dryer. It amounted to relief first, and then a burst of everything paternal he'd buried under miles of rock, dirt, and anger. He touched something real in himself, something his father never could train or break in him.

Dean's hand hooked around the back of Castiel's neck and their mouths crashed together. Teeth bumped and lips immediately grew swollen with the rough hunger spurned from the relief of settling what they'd always be to each other.

"You forgive me then?" whispered Dean. "I can't stand hurting you."

Nodding, Castiel pulled him in again for another kiss. The John Keats book tumbled off the dryer to the floor as he wedged himself between Dean's thighs, not that he truly intended to push him again, but because he needed to be closer. His own relief filtered through the new depths of the way he kissed Dean without reservation, no longer questioning whether their relationship had to be a fleeting thing. They were in it together, officially, and James belonged to Dean as much as he did to Castiel.

Footsteps over their heads distracted Dean. His head craned up to the ceiling and he snatched Castiel by the hand. A mischievous little grin played his lips as he tugged Castiel around the corner, pulling his hand and walking backwards with his eyes fixed on the angel. Castiel understood they were headed for Bobby’s panic room that occupied the darkest corner of the basement away from prying eyes.

"Dean, there?" Castiel asked, a hot electrical stretch of anticipation scurrying up his spine. "You don’t … I mean, I’m not pushing…"

"No, I’m pulling," countered Dean through a smirk. He yanked Castiel through the doorway and thrust his back against the wall. "There’s plenty of trouble to get into without going for a home run yet."

"I don’t understand that reference but I don’t think I care anymore," Castiel mumbled as Dean pinned him to the wall with his own body and kissed an incredibly magical place behind his ear.

A dreamy weight settled over Castiel’s mind and his heavy lids slipped shut with a stifled groan against Dean’s shoulder. His body instinctively remembered those sensations from a few nights before but there in the basement, hiding from the rest of the house, something exciting layered into it. Tingling passed over his skin. Only Dean’s rough, imprecise kiss kept Castiel from completely floating away. His fingers clawed around the back of Dean’s head and he felt like Dean might devour him right there.

The hunter’s hand around the angel’s jaw tightened and roved down his throat, his chest, and passed below his waist. Sparks threatened to set Castiel ablaze as Dean’s thick, iron strong hand palmed him through his jeans.

"Dean," came a hissing sharp gasp. His knees buckled but Dean pressing him into the wall held him upright.

Instinct made Castiel mimic him, going for his jeans in return, but Dean grabbed his wrists and pinned them against the wall over his head. "No," he whispered. "It's not about me now."

It might have been effortless for an angel like Castiel to break free of Dean's grip, but the flipping sensation in his stomach kept him there, trusting and compliant. Dean rewarded Castiel with a kiss for surrendering to him, yet he never let go of his wrists crossed over his head. A free hand strayed to Castiel's waistline again, making quick work of the buttoned fly. Before he knew it, his jeans hugged him around his thighs, leaving the jutting state of his arousal exposed to the room.

"No, don't close your eyes," Dean's whisper cut through his blurry mind. "Look at me, Cas."

That request required a lot more courage than Castiel expected. It left him vulnerable and entirely too exposed, yet he lifted his eyes to Dean's face. The hunter's hand circled his rigid cock and gave a few slow tugs. He heard himself whimper and he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and sink into a quiet ocean of want and sensation. Yet Dean commanded his attention, rooting him to that spot by the tether of eye contact. Castiel bit his lower lip and bucked his hips into Dean's fist. Only a breath of space existed between their bodies - just enough room for Dean's expert stroking - and he felt heartbeats racing through another new shared experience. Who's heartbeat was who's, well, it no longer seemed to matter. Perhaps they had always been to halves to the same whole.

"This is the thing I remember most," Dean murmured, his voice heady and slurred with desire. "Your eyes got brighter and brighter 'til I thought your grace was gonna explode too."

Castiel's thoughts refused to connect but the low sound of Dean's voice coupled with his hand working faster, twisting over his head, spanning his length, brushing a thumb in all the right spots... He knew he couldn't last long. The restraint of his wrists against the wall over his head added to the tension until fire boiled low in his gut and he struggled to keep his eyes on Dean's freckled face.

"Cas..." he breathed as he rested their foreheads together.

White bursts of light blinded Castiel as the fire consumed every cell in his body. His spine bowed back from the wall as the spurting pressure of an orgasm erupted over Dean's fist. Somewhere in the back of Castiel's mind, he heard himself crying out just as Dean smothered back those ragged moans with kisses.

Slowly, the angel's body stilled again and his moans cooled into panting gasps for air. Dean smiled against his mouth as he let his arms fall free again, and languidly covered his face in kisses.

"Told you sneaking around was fun," Dean said in a teasing tone.

Castiel laughed hoarsely, still riding the high. He let Dean carefully put his clothes back together again but their sneaking encounter left obvious sticky marks on both their shirts. The sight somewhat embarrassed Castiel, if he identified that emotion correctly, and he tugged Dean's shirt over his head, followed by his own.

"Good thing we're close to the washer," joked Dean.

"I'm sorry," replied Castiel bashfully.

"No way. Don't be sorry for us having fun. I've probably got clean laundry down here that hasn't been put away yet."

He balled up their shirts and started to leave until Castiel grabbed his forearm. "Dean, wait," he said. "You're all right? I didn't make you--"

"--Cas, stop." A tender smile pulled his lips and he tipped his head. "If memory serves, I'm the one who dragged you back here. We're cool. No secrets or anything. I ... I wanted to do this to you." The tenderness in his smile shifted to something a little more bashful. "I was freaked out thinking you were gonna change your mind about me after last time, and then you came down here telling me you wanna have James together and that you forgive me for being a screw up. I got carried away. I do want you all the time, Cas, but it's me that needs to catch up with the program. Don't worry. I'm good."

"Okay." Still so very warm and tingling in his personal afterglow, Castiel met Dean in the doorway of the panic room and grasped his face for a loving kiss. "You're not a bad guy and you're not a screw up, Dean Winchester. I'm going to make you see yourself the way I see you one day."

"I doubt that." Dean gave him a lopsided smile.

Despite his doubts, Castiel smiled indulgently. "That letter from James? Bad guys don't do lovely things like that. I'll always keep it."

"Maybe James will do it again," the hunter replied. "He's a cool kid."

Together, they passed through the narrow corridor toward the laundry room. Castiel's legs still felt wobbly and his mind covered by a haze of happiness that he wanted to bathe in for days, but they couldn't hide from responsibility forever. They'd already spent far too much time alone without looking in on the fledgling ... their son. And Castiel had to start calling the runaway angels to South Dakota. Poor Hael needed his attention as well. A half-hour alone with Dean every now and then almost seemed like too much to ask.

Dean stopped abruptly and, lost in thought, Castiel walked straight into his bare shoulder. He woke from his meandering mind only to find Bobby switching the wash to the dryer.

The three of them froze in the most awkward stare down.

Bobby's face soured suddenly as if he encountered something that tasted or smelled awful. "Jesus fuckin' Christ," he growled with his hands thrown up in a defensive posture. "I don't even wanna know. Fuckin' hell. Can't you keep this shit to the bedroom?"

"There's a fledgling in the bedroom, Bobby," Dean replied.

The tone of his voice shifted and Castiel leaned to the side for a look at him. Shockingly, Dean smirked. He found it humorous.

"God damn it, I want my damn house back!" barked the old man as he nearly ran upstairs again.

Dean doubled over in laughter so intensely that he clapped his hands in that peculiar human habit. Sneaking around proved far more entertaining than Castiel ever thought possible.

Chapter Text

"I’ll be back late tonight. I’ll try to keep quiet for Squirt when I come in," Dean said, leaning over the bed for a quick kiss.

Castiel frowned in the midst of sitting cross-legged on the bed with James. “I don’t want you to have to do this, Dean. There has to be a better way.” He fed an arm through onesie pajamas.

"It’s cool. Don’t worry. Winchesters have been hustling pool and poker to make quick money since before my dad was born. It’s in my blood. The rugrat needs clothes and cash is running low. No big deal. I used to do this for Sammy too." He flashed a cocky grin and passed a hand over James’ downy black hair. "Be good. Don’t give your dad any grief while I’m gone."

"How much trouble could he cause at nearly a month old?"

Shrugging in the doorway, Dean looked back. “Our kid?”

"All right. Point taken," Castiel conceded with a twitch of a smile.

*****

Long after one in the morning, Dean still hadn’t come home, not that Castiel expected him for quite a while yet. He kept James in bed with him that night rather than sleep in the crib. Propped on Dean’s pillow, his binky sat motionless in his mouth as soon as he drifted off. Castiel kept a hand on his tummy, giving way to the relaxation of his fledgling breathing slow and steady through sleep. They rested together, Castiel curled up close to his boy. Not that he needed sleep but the tiny thumping of James’ heartbeat beneath his hand lulled him into a peaceful, floating sensation.

The pleasant heaviness in Castiel’s limbs came so rarely that his joy over it nearly yanked him out of that comfortable state. His angel brain always processed information through filter after filter, analyzing things that never occurred to humans. He wondered what it might be like to enjoy the delightfully dark, silent blanket of unconscious rest. The closest he ever came was the relaxed impression brought about by feeling his child sleep.

Quiet tranquility ended abruptly as James’ tiny body suddenly jerked awake. Though he made no sound, his eyes burned electric bluish-white with intense grace light. His legs bent and curled against his body as if his tummy hurt, and then he stretched out again. His little mouth bloomed open behind his binky with a wail.

"What’s the matter?"

Castiel didn’t know why he bothered to ask. He knew. The tingle between his shoulderblades alerted him to the presence of another angel - not Hetanel or Hael. The Cheyenne angel and his own fledgling were safely stowed away in their motel room. Hael sat alone downstairs, he thought in taking stock of the household, while Sam and Bobby slept in their bedrooms.

Scooping up James, he leaned toward the bedroom window and peered outside. The other angel stood stiffly in the open below, her eyes turned up to the very window where Castiel stood. She made no aggressive move toward the house but she didn’t leave either. But as he looked closer, he recognized her specialty.

Immediately, Castiel crossed the hall and threw open the door to Sam’s bedroom. All six-foot-four of the younger brother jumped off the mattress, sitting straight up with the most irritated, groggy haze in his eyes.

"What the hell, Cas?"

"Please, watch James for a minute. There’s an angel outside and I don’t know what she wants," he said, highly on guard.

It settled in Sam’s half-asleep mind and he nodded, reaching out for the baby. “You want back up?”

"She doesn’t appear to be aggressive but keep watch nonetheless," Castiel decided. "We can't be too careful."

"Right. Got it. Stay armed," Sam cautioned.

Along his path through the house outside, he stopped and pressed his finger to his lips, telling Hael to remain still and quiet. Her wide eyes stared up at him in abject fear, unable to defend herself in that weakened condition. She nodded but clutched the blanket over her legs to her chest. It had everything to do with her whether she understood it yet. He couldn’t let her panic.

He stood on the back steps and let his angel blade drop into his hand as he stared across the yard at her. She mimicked his motion, but rather than launch at him, she held up her blade in a loose grip. It fell into the gravel and she stepped closer with her hands exposed.

"What do you want?" he asked, his tone low and territorial.

A golden brown piece of hair tumbled over her face in the breeze. She tipped her face as if terribly concerned. “Castiel, do you know who I am?”

"No," he replied. "I know what you are."

"Indeed, I am one of the Rit Ziens. My name is Ethel. I’m not here to hurt you, the humans, or the fledglings in this house." Although she attempted to reassure him, she conveniently left out one specific thing.

Castiel’s fingers tightened around the handle of his angel blade. “I’m afraid we have no need for a hand of mercy here.”

"Oh, but you do. There’s an angel woefully suffering here. Can you feel it, Castiel?" Ethel, a specialist in Heaven as a medic, stepped even closer. "Hael, I believe. Yes? The agony screams from her grace - strangled, rippling cries for mercy. Do you know how horrible it is for her? To feel her grace shredded and bled dry so slowly every day for months until she inevitably dies in no better condition than a body mummified alive?"

"We’re going to find a way to save her," Castiel argued, none too thrilled with her scare tactics.

She scoffed. "How? There is no way to kill Heaven’s serpents."

"But have you actually ever tried to find a way, or do you blindly believe everything you’ve been told since you were created, Ethel?"

The angel medic let her hands droop slightly as the thought tumbled around her brain. He knew angels like her were not capable of questioning the teachings burned into their minds from the age of fledglings, but he would not allow her to conduct a mercy kill on Hael. No matter how much she suffered, he knew she didn’t want to die and leave her fledgling without a mother. Ethel was never trained to believe something that deeply rooted in emotion.

The back screen door slammed, drawing Castiel's attention. Sam fell in at his side with an angel blade in one hand and James tucked in the crook of his opposite elbow. He glared.

Despite the chilly reception, Ethel's lips quirked into a subtle smile. "Is this the fledgling you kidnapped, Castiel? My, what a strong one he is. He'll do great things when he returns home. Perhaps he'll even become a Rit Zien as well." Her smile lifted to something much more obvious with that idea. "We could use a strong one like him."

"He is home," Sam snarled. "You have ten seconds to get out of here before I drive this blade into your chest. Put a hand on Hael and I'll skin you slow before I kill you."

"Goodness. Is this Dean?" she asked Castiel.

The younger Winchester flipped the blade. "Sam. Now get out."

Ethel's eyes shifted between the two. It appeared that she debated rushing past them. Perhaps she would get inside in a flash of grace but they all knew she wouldn't leave the house alive if she did. She had her orders though, otherwise she wouldn't be there.

"I'll give you one week. Search for your cure, make your peace, and do what you have to do, Sam. In one week, I will return. She won't be cured. I can guarantee you that. But we are gentler than the angel warriors such as Castiel by nature, we 'hands of mercy', and I can see you need time to make your peace." Her eyes turned to Castiel. The way her voice dipped and her words slowed to a deliberate drawl suggested she spoke in code. "Help him now. We must help the ill angel."

"I agree," he agreed with a nod just as deliberate as her voice.

Sam had no opportunity to leave a lasting verbal remark as Winchester brothers were prone to do. Rustling wings took flight around Ethel, leaving them alone at the back door.

*****

Even Castiel had to admit Dean swaying back and forth with James fussing in his arms looked odd when the rest of his presence went into delivering orders and handling the business of a hunter. He managed both with great precision, having gathered everyone in the living room, including Hetanel from across town. Dawn hadn't even arrived yet.

"I don't like the way they're coming around when I'm not here," Dean said. "This is the second time. Obviously they're watching the house."

"Then why ain't they doing anything about Cas and the grunts?" asked Bobby from his throne behind the desk. "If they're watching the house, then they know exactly what we're doing here. They could've nabbed a kid a million different ways by now."

With an arm crossed over his chest, Hetanel's other hand thoughtfully rubbed his mouth. "Nests are holy places."

"Nests?" Dean's brows knitted together at him.

"That has to be the reason," replied Castiel.

On her sofa perch, Hael nodded as well. "We have built a nest here whether we intended to or not and they see it that way." Realizing the humans in the room stared at her like she spoke Greek, she stopped and backtracked. "Fledglings are raised together in Heaven. Each has a guardian but they learn and grow together. These places are called nests and such places are holy according to Heaven's law. No war may come to a nest."

"It's strange," added Castiel quietly. "We left Heaven for freedom, yet we've managed to build a nest here as we would have done there."

"We can't avoid instinct, I guess," Hetanel said. "It's ironic that the instincts inherent to our species are saving us now. As long as we remain close enough together that they see us as a nest, they won't try to bring war on us."

"But the Rit Zien will kill me regardless." A certain resignation came through Hael's soft voice. She turned to the window, continuing, "Perhaps it's for the best. None of my own kind can come nearer to me than where you stand now, Castiel. My child is being looked after by humans and I don't even know if she's sick too."

"Nobody gets left behind," argued Dean, patting James' bottom.

Nodding, Sam agreed, "That's right. It's gonna be fine."

"Okay, we're gonna fan out. Every man on this." Taking charge as the old man tended to do, Bobby stood and rounded the desk. "I've got books in storage that might have something on this mess. You boys go down to my unit tomorrow and grab the boxes. Time's wasting."

"I'm gonna get a few hours of shuteye," Sam decided, standing.

"Wait." Still swaying, Dean glanced at Castiel. "Since everybody's here, I got something to say. Just on a need-to-know basis. No reason to make a thing of it." His eyes shifted to Castiel again. "Thing is Cas and I are, uh..."

"Together," Castiel said for him.

"Together," Dean sputtered out with a nod. "Yeah, so we decided we're raising our rugrat together too. James is as much mine as his. He's taking my name. Okay? So, you know, just keep it in mind or whatever. I'm this kid's dad too and that's just ... that's how it's gonna be. Don't say he's Cas' fledgling or whatever because I don't like it. He's ours. No big deal or anything but keep it in mind."

A faint smile formed on Castiel's mouth, though he dropped his gaze to try and hide it. "You're repeating yourself."

"I know," Dean hissed in a private tone.

"Well," breathed Hael's singsong voice, "this is the one good thing to come of all this, isn't it?"

"There's plenty more good to come," Sam decided.

"Congratulations, boys." That was damn near a shed tear of joy for Bobby. He let a moment pass. "Are we done with the touchy feely crap now, Daddies? We've got work to do."

Chapter Text

Three baby bottles lined up on the kitchen counter strangely reminded Castiel of the time Ellen got him to try tequila shots. And then, a sadder thought occurred to him. She would have been a fantastic grandmother figure for James. The assembly line of infant formula, crushed rose petals, and honey came together for the lunchtime feeding.

Voices carried from the living room and he eavesdropped without really meaning to but living in such close quarters made it difficult not to overhear.

"I got stuff to keep you busy while you're stuck here in the house," Sam said over rustling plastic bags.

Hael lifted her voice curiously but Castiel knew it was a conscious effort to inject emotion into her usual monotone angelic way of speaking. "Oh did you?" Perhaps she truly did feel some curiosity about it. Her emotional development and sense of free will was still so very far behind Castiel and Hetanel.

The exchange definitely had Castiel interested and he purposely slowed his preparation of the baby bottles. Sam, of course, was his friend – perhaps his best friend aside from Dean – and he cared about protecting and encouraging him. He knew Sam took an interest in Hael that certainly had the potential of growing Into the Way, Dean fell for him as well. And although he wasn't entirely sure about Sam's badly hidden infatuation with the sick angel, he didn't completely dissuade him yet. Part of the beautiful thing about humanity was the gift of free will. Perhaps Sam would get hurt in the end if she rejected him, but Castiel had been on earth long enough to know that every human faced that very same possibility. So he resisted the urge to interfere or offer unwanted advice. Sam would have to come to him first, he decided.

She spoke again. "This is very kind of you, but I told you I cannot draw or paint or conceive of anything artistic on my own," she admitted with a downturned voice.

"I know," replied Sam with the utmost sincerity and patience. "I think it's in you though. We could just consider this an experiment, you know? No pressure or anything like that. You don't have to create masterpieces like you were told to do before. See, I think if angels are at all able to develop free will, which we know can happen obviously, then maybe you can learn what creativity feels like too. I really think you might come to like it."

A silence told Castiel that perhaps Hael thought about it. Her words emerged a little softer then, "Okay. An experiment. How do you propose I should learn such a thing?"

"Well, let's try this first. Look at these. Which one do you wanna grab first out of the box?" He waited.

Unable to contain his own curiosity, Castiel leaned to the side and spied on them over his shoulder from the kitchen. A bottle, half-full, dangled precariously from his distracted hand. Hael laid on the couch with her back pillowed on the arm and her knees pulled up toward the ceiling. A fluffy flannel blanket covered her feet up to her waist and, although Sam could not see it, the faded condition of her wings began resembling the ragged, frayed way a flustered bird's feathers tangled. A few feathers fell out in the time it took him to prepare baby bottles. Still, he watched Hael think it over entirely too long as Sam displayed an open box of colored pencils for her. Then, finally, she plucked one – a length of brand-new peacock blue veering on turquoise. She presented it to Sam with questioning eyes.

"Is this right?" she asked.

Sam shook his head but Castiel couldn't see his face with his back turned. "There's no wrong choice here. So tell me why you picked this one."

Studying the pencil, her fingertips passed over the painted wood. "My wings used to be this color before I got sick, as you call it. Now they look more like this one," she explained as she pointed out that much less vibrant shade. "I don't know. I liked the similar sensation of a color I've known my entire life, I suppose."

A bit of regretful silence fell between them, maybe even contemplative, and Castiel wanted to know what Sam felt but he chose not to spy anymore. Instead, he popped each of the three baby bottles into the microwave and heated up lunch for the fledglings. If he didn't hurry, you'd have three screaming, hungry fledglings on his hands without Dean or Hetanel to help. They'd gone shopping so Hetanel could also have a driving lesson since he seemed far more adept at humanity than Hael or even Castiel himself. The Northern Cheyenne angel insisted on getting a job and thought at least two other runaway angels could do the same, and then they'd be able to support the entire nest. Dean seemed to like his gumption and initiative.

Plastic bags rustling in the living room again interrupted Castiel's wandering mind. Sam spoke, "Here. Use this book. Let's try a new experiment. Maybe you can copy one of your feathers for me. Copying doesn't mean trying to overuse your own creativity. It just means, literally, copying what you see. Think you can do that?"

"I'll try," she agreed, though her tone sounded skeptical. "Can I have some privacy? I don't want you to see if it turns out badly."

"Sure." A patient smile bled through his voice.

Castiel took his opportunity. He called into the living room, "Sam, please bring the little ones down here for their lunch."

"Yeah, okay. No problem," he called back, already moving for the stairwell.

"Remember no further than Bobby's desk." Of course, Castiel hated saying it out loud, especially in front of Hael, but anything in that house made of angelic grace had to keep its distance from her while she was sick. The last thing they needed was a house full of parasitic angels. He didn't know how to cure her yet, let alone any number of them.

Just as Sam disappeared upstairs, Dean and Hetanel swung through the front door laughing at some joke which passed between them outside. They each carried armloads of shopping bags, which Castiel hadn't expected, and he met them in the hallway.

"There's more in that damn van," Dean said as if he anticipated the questions. "Figured if we've got a nest coming – and that sounds really weird, by the way – we might as well grab some extra stuff to the little rugrats headed our way." In passing, he absently pecked Castiel's cheek and headed into the living room. "Where's the old man?"

"Bobby's doing mechanical work outside," replied Castiel. "He's been outside all morning. I don't pretend to understand what he's doing but it's something to do with an automobile."

"Probably needs some time to himself, I guess," Dean said as he dropped the shopping bags on the living room floor, followed by Hetanel dropping his shopping bags nearby. He glanced at Hael who, so engrossed in her sketching, didn't even seem to notice anybody coming into the room. "You doing okay today, Hael?"

"Yes, Dean," she said without looking up. "I'm as well as can be expected. I can't walk upstairs without exhaustion overtaking me, I can't hold my own fledgling or any other under this roof, my brothers cannot touch me without risk of catching this parasite, and now your brother has gotten it into his head that I can be a great painter or some such nonsense. I'm positively wonderful. Thank you for asking."

The absolute nature of her dry sarcasm stopped the three of them in their tracks momentarily. Dean didn't quite know how to react. His brows furrowed and his head slumped to one side just slightly as if it might help his thought process.

Huge feet stomped downstairs. "Lesson learned. Don't try to carry three wriggling babies at once even if you're as big as me," declared Sam, appearing with a fledgling in each arm. "James almost got away from me up there. Here, take this one. It's yours." Sam thrust one of his elbows at Dean as he minded Evelyn reclining in the other elbow. "I was gonna get Katrina in just a second."

"I got it. I'm here now." Hetanel jogged upstairs.

With a smile for his son, Dean dropped to the floor and sat crosslegged on a road that had probably been there since Bobby was a child. "Chow time," he said to James, "but we gotta show everybody what I bought."

Castiel handed off a bottle each to Dean and Sam, perfectly happy to give up feeding for one meal. Only a mild glance indicated any dissatisfaction on Hael's part that she couldn't feed her own child. She gave herself over to the sketch in her lap, silent and deep in concentration, so much that the Winchesters almost didn't notice she was still in the room. Occupying his usual chair, an old leather thing quite unevenly stuffed but far enough away from Hael that he could still talk to her, Castiel practiced arranging himself casually like a human. He didn't particularly want to give up his grace, nor would he, but raising an angel fledgling in a world ruled by humans meant he would have to teach his son to pass for one as well. So he practiced from time to time when no one would notice.

"So, Hael, I know you can't exactly get stuff for your kid right now, so I grabbed a few things since we don't know how long you're gonna be down for the count. James is getting bigger so I figure Evelyn must be getting bigger too. I grabbed a few clothes for her to grow into." As Dean spoke, he fished around in one of the shopping bags and produced a few baby dresses on hangers as well as packages of onesies that he favored so much for his own little man. "Hetanel knew more about girl stuff than I did. So he should get all the credit here."

Hael pushed back her sketchpad and leaned over the sofa enough to have a look at what was chosen for her child. She didn't actually touch anything, probably fearful of passing on the parasite to the baby through her new clothing, but she seemed appreciative anyway. A faint smile brightened her face, making Castiel realize she hadn't really smiled in days.

Chattering on, Dean balanced James in the crook of his knee as he sat crosslegged on the floor and held the bottle to his mouth with one hand and searched his bags with the other. "I dunno what kind of condition the ones coming to us are in and I figured it can't hurt to have a few extra things lying around, you know?" He looked at Castiel for guidance. "I didn't spend much. Just a few things in case some of these fledglings have been neglected or whatever. You just never know."

"Wise decision," replied Castiel with a slow nod.

Softer intimacy shaded Dean's eyes, peering up at Castiel from the floor. "I got a couple of extra things for Squirt. The chick at the store thought a swing would be useful and she couldn't believe we didn't have a stroller."

Castiel smiled, quite amused. "You told a stranger you have a child?"

"Sure, why not?"

It didn't even occur to him that he would never have done such a thing a couple of months ago. Castiel decided not to push it by reminding him of his initial reluctance to embrace their newfound relationship, but it amused him nonetheless. He could almost envision Dean carefully considering the options in a baby store surrounded by new mothers.

"Cas!" Bobby marched into the house through the back door and shouted for the angel. He tracked mud through the kitchen, leaving gravel on the old linoleum floor, but clearly on a mission. "There you are, boy. Got something for you. Finally got the engine running again."

"What engine?" Sam turned his face at a highly skeptical angle and even squinted. He leaned back on Bobby's desk, nearly tall enough to simply sit down on it as he awkwardly gave Hael's little girl her lunch.

The old man wiped his hands on a rag so dirty that it probably didn't do any good. Dirt and grease rubbed around dirt and grease, coating his hands up to the elbows in two days worth of labor. "No boy of mine's gonna go through life not knowing how to drive. He's gonna need a car with a little grunt. Trust me. If Hetanel can learn to drive, so can Cas. Fixed up the old Cutlass. Engine's running real good now. Backseat's good to go for car seats and all that baby junk you people keep dragging into my house." His aged eyes turned to Castiel with a glimmer of pride. "So whaddya say, boy? Wanna learn to drive?"

Castiel started to speak but Dean cut him off. "Hold on. You're giving him that red convertible? What the hell, Bobby?"

"Oh, don't get your panties in a twist. For crying out loud. Cas and I understand each other, don't we?" Again, he looked to the angel for backup in his unusual display of family bond. But before Castiel could say anything, once more, he continued bickering with Dean. "And just because you're knocking boots doesn't mean you get to drive it whenever you want. The Oldsmobile belongs to Cas. Read me, boy?"

"Got it," replied Dean submissively, though the corners of his mouth threatened to turn up in a highly amused smirk.

"Well," Sam muttered to the fledgling tucked in his elbow, his voice dark with humor, "looks like somebody gets to be Daddy's favorite now, doesn't it?"

It seemed the Winchester brothers were teasing either Bobby or Castiel about the mutual understanding that had developed between them since the angel moved into the house, but he couldn't quite discern the targets of their thinly veiled jokes. One thing he knew for certain, however, was that they didn't mean anything in malice. Among humans, teasing seemed to be a sign of affection.

"Thank you, Bobby," offered Castiel hesitantly. "I never considered operating an automobile before. I'm uncertain of how skilled I'll be at it, but I will certainly take care of the – what did you call it? – Cutlass."

"Damn right, you will." With a final nod, the deal apparently solidified for the old man and he quickly turned the subject more pressing concerns. He nudged Dean's hip with his boot. "You find the boxes I told you to get?"

"Yep," replied Dean as he lifted James over his shoulder for a burping.

No further explanation came for Bobby, which apparently irritated him, and he rolled his eyes at the room. "Christ on a cracker, why ain't we need deep in books right now? The clock's ticking for this poor lady here and your lollygagging around buying stuff for those babies." He gestured emphatically from Sam to Castiel and his voice rose with the need to completely take charge. "Sam, hand over that winged baby to Cas and get your ass out to the van and bring in those damn boxes! Now!"

Sam nodded, obeying, yet he didn't seem offended at the way Bobby barked orders at him. Neither did Dean. They snickered, elbowing each other like children, and Castiel suddenly found his lap full of Evelyn and James simultaneously. Hetanel seemed rather amused with observing the family interact as he had quietly come into the room sometime before but chose to remain quiet, as he normally did. As much as he fit securely in the fabric of humanity, he still held onto his angel heritage of observing them in silence, watching over them, and only intervening when he could really offer something of value. The brothers mumbled, chuckled, and clearly made light of the manner in which Bobby bossed them around like only a father could.

Receding into the kitchen, Bobby mumbled, "I feel like I'm raising a house full of kids, damn it. None of them listen to me either."

As he looked down at the babies wriggling in his lap, he wondered how well any of this was going to go. Trying to find a cure for Hael's parasitic serpent. Driving. Taking care of an entire nest of angel fledglings stolen from Heaven. Something in Castiel began to feel a bit overwhelmed. On top of everything, he had to maintain his new relationship with Dean and give his son the attention he deserved and needed.

Chapter Text

"We're gonna have to reach and yank it out," announced Sam as he scraped his arm across the late summer sweat coating his brow.

Castiel gaped at him. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Yeah, Sammy, even for you, that's--"

"--Do we want to just sit in that house and watch her die?" When Castiel and Dean failed to respond, he defiantly folded his arms over his chest. "I've been through every book body has and the only way to kill Heaven's serpents is frying 'em in holy oil. Can't fry Hael in it, can we?"

"What're you even saying? Cut her open and--" Something about Sam's proposal got Dean by the stomach. He rubbed the tension from his temple, freeing the confused energy into the air, which Castiel saw as little black puffs of smoke.

"I… I believe I know what he's getting at here," Castiel ventured quietly.

"You're not suggesting we do this," argued Dean in disbelief.

To demonstrate, the angel took the hunter's wrist and exposed his forearm to the late afternoon sun. Laser focus pushed a measure of grace through Castiel's index fingertip, slicing through Dean's flesh. A bloody line appeared as if he dragged a surgical blade across the meat. Dean hissed in pain and jerked his wrist but Castiel fingers clenched tighter around his wrist, forcing him to endure it. Once he cut open Dean's forearm, silent expression of proof passed from blue to green eyes, and then he draped a healing palm over the wound. Tender, warm grace bound up the angry flesh as if he'd never cut into him at all.

Dean pieced it together, but he shook his head. "Cas, no. You can't touch that thing. You'll get sick."

"Momentarily, yes. That's why you'll be there with the holy oil to kill it the very moment I pull it out of her," he said with full confidence in Dean's ability to go into it as fearlessly as he went into every dangerous situation. "It's risky but I trust you. I'll admit that it's risky. But Sam's correct. We're out of time and out of ideas. If it was easy to kill Heaven's serpents, then they wouldn't be such fearsome creatures to my kind."

"We can't just let her die," Sam added quietly, nodding.

"But Cas – I don't want Cas getting exposed." Sighing, Dean's frustration with his own anxiety percolated as he passed a flattened hand down Castiel's arm. "It means using his grace. It means he could die too if killing that thing doesn't work."

"Using my grace doesn't matter anymore. They know exactly where we are," Castiel countered gently. "And taking risks to help others is what we've always done, Dean."

Fearful green eyes met his as he said, "Not since we had a baby."

*****

A dying woman would apparently agreed to any extreme measure to save her life whether she was an angel or human, Castiel decided once Hael readily agreed to the plan. Sam explained it in far more gentle terms than what would probably transpire, but if she knew exactly what she was in for, she would probably choose death. And honestly, Castiel wondered if the last attempt to save her wasn't more for Sam than it was for her. He'd lost far too many women in his life even if that one didn't have a clue about his growing infatuation with her.

At least everyone agreed about one thing – the fledglings should not be in the house. The traumatic energy, Castiel explained, could damage their psyches. And Dean with his new paternal instincts refused to allow James to hear one second of discomfort or arguing, so he readily sent their boy along with Katrina and Evelyn in Bobby's care. Bobby took the fledglings to Sheriff Jody Mills, a friend who knew exactly what they did as hunters and wouldn't mind helping him take care of three infants for the night.

The amount of holy oil Castiel thought was necessary to kill a serpent required two separate trips to Jerusalem. He hadn't used his wings in quite a while but flying allowed him to stretch and remind him of who he was, as if fatherhood brought him a little too close to being human.

Dean spread trash bags on the floor in the living room as Hael looked on without the slightest hint of emotion in her eyes. No one could discern whether she felt any fear about what they were about to attempt and perhaps that make it easier for Castiel to do what he had to do. The truth was the very idea of reaching into her chest cavity and prying that thing free of her grace terrified him, not because he feared for his own life, but because he feared the faltering strength of his internal courage. It was one thing to kill without thinking in defense but it was quite another to cause an innocent creature such pain to wrestle something parasitic out of her.

"Okay, we ready to do this?" Sam seemed as strong as ever as he poured all of the holy oil into a thirty gallon paint bucket from the garage. His faith as always stood as a solid pillar in the family.

"I'm ready," Castiel said, though he really didn't believe himself.

"Yep, let's get this over with," added Dean, kneeling on the floor.

Hael hesitated. She stared at the trash bags lighting the rug and her pale eyes drifted to the bucket of holy oil where the serpent would hopefully die a painful death. "Before we do this," she said in a small voice, "I must be certain my child will be watched over should I not survive the night. If a guardian dies within a nest before the fledgling in its charge reaches maturity, the rest of the angels in that nest look after that fledgling as if it had always been their own. I need to know that I can count on this nest looking after my Evelyn."

"You're not gonna die," Sam protested.

"Not even you can predict that, Sam," she said as if simply speaking of the weather.

"Evelyn is part of this nest and she will remain one of us should something happen to you. You have my word," promised Castiel before the two of them dissolved into distraught arguing over whether she would live or not.

"Thank you," she whispered with a faint nod.

Taking that as being ready, Sam carefully pulled away the blanket from her legs and lifted her off the sofa. He behaved as if Hael was made of fine crystal, sinking to his knees and lying her in the middle of the floor. He scooted around over her head and, legs folded under himself, cradled her head in his lap.

Castiel attempted to dunk bright yellow rubber gloves in the holy oil before putting them on, although he had no inclination of whether the protective measure would do any good for himself. It had been Dean's idea. It didn't really matter to him if it worked or not. He only did it to appease Dean and give him some comfort that perhaps the barrier of holy oil between the serpent and himself would keep it from infiltrating his own grace. Castiel didn't think it would work but it couldn't hurt to try. If they succeeded, they would kill the serpent and whether he actually touched it or not wouldn't matter at all.

"You good, Cas?"

"Yes," he replied, taking position over Hael's torso. "Dean, you'll have to hold her legs tightly. And Sam, you'll have to hold her arms. It's imperative that she doesn't move no matter what happens. Do you understand?"

Both of the brothers nodded and Hael lifted her arms, offering them to Sam without complaint. It seemed Dean expected quite a lot of fighting in pain, so he planted all of his body weight across her knees, which, again, she met with absolutely compliant silence. Despite the restraint and the insanity of what they were trying to do, she remained stoic, brave, and as graceful as a queen throughout her ordeal. Castiel had to admit that she impressed him.

"I will try to be as quick as possible," he said.

Hael nodded, the briefest flash of fear in her eyes. "Go ahead."

Steeling himself against every instinct burned into him from his own days as a fledgling against encountering one of those awful serpents, Castiel opened her blouse and commenced slicing down center of her chest with the very same grace he used from his index finger to slice into Dean. Both brothers averted their eyes, reminding Castiel that humans were rather modest about nudity but neither he nor Hael gave it any thought. It wasn't like those were their own bodies. They were vessels. Modesty was one of those curious human habits that he never understood.

She didn't react to any pain until the incision got to the tender place over her sternum. Her chest opened as she ground her teeth and then began whimpering as if reacting to the pain was a shameful thing. The light of her grace filled the living room, Skilling from her chest, and her arms and legs began fighting for freedom of their own accord. Sam and Dean restrained her tighter, but their expressions wrinkled, recoiling, as she whimpered and wept.

The vessel bled profusely and flowed over Castiel's jeans onto the plastic bags on the floor. Perhaps Dean anticipated how much the human body could bleed. Quickly but with extra concentration, Castiel slid his hand into her chest the way a surgeon would while massaging a heart. But when an angel occupied a vessel, human organs were not as prominent, replaced by the enormity of that angel's grace, and that grace was what the serpent latched itself onto as she ran from Heaven.

He felt the heat, the nuclear reactor contained in that vessel's chest, and he suddenly knew everything about Hael with her grace cradled in his hands. Her eyes burned white-hot and blue with the instinct to flee should any other creature in God's creation touch that most private part of an angel. Momentarily, the shock of it made Sam's grip loosened on her arms but the moment she began fighting him, he pinned her to the floor again.

Then Castiel felt a tentacle coiled around the top half of her grace. Abject terror and disgust nearly made him yank his hands out of her chest cavity, but he pushed ahead. He fought his own fears.

"I feel it," he announced, his face contorted in horror.

"Yank it out!" Dean shouted.

As Castiel reached around the back of her grace, she screamed for the first time, feeling the brunt of agony. He was wrist deep in her chest with both hands searching for the body of that disgusting serpent and when he found it, his own fear crested. In one fell swoop, he grabbed the jellylike body and ripped it from her grace, producing another horrifying scream from her lips. She dropped off into unconsciousness immediately, the pain being far too much for even an angel to tolerate. At least a limp body wouldn't give him any resistance as he tried to rip free the grip of the serpent from her internal mechanism. The damn thing held on tight and he couldn't leave any part of it behind.

Sacrificing himself, Castiel tricked the serpent into latching onto his wrist instead of her grace. Needles shot through its tentacles, through the rubber gloves, into his flesh and he growled in pain as he ripped his arm out of her chest. They all saw the serpent for the first time, a horrible octopus-looking thing covered in slime and consisting of clear skin, displaying the evil blackness coursing through its internal tissues.

And sacrificing himself even further, Castiel shoved his entire arm into the holy oil. Animalistic screeching and tentacles flailing, the creature slowly released him as it died, but in the process, the oil burned through Castiel's arm to the elbow. A bellowing sort of screeching, inhuman sound erupted from his chest as he felt his arm boiling in the holy oil. The only thing he could do was pray the oil killed the serpent before it killed him. It would not have let go of his wrist to be thrown into the bucket alone. Sacrificing himself was the only way to do it.

Behind him, he felt Dean panicking. He felt Sam panicking doubly – fearing for Hael and terrified at the way Castiel shoved his arm into something he knew could kill him.

Finally, the serpent quit fighting. It went limp. Dead, the needles slipped free of his arm and yanked it out of the bucket as quick as he could. From the elbow downward, Castiel's arm resembled undercooked hamburger with a half-melted rubber glove stuck to the boiled human meat.

"Cas! Son of a bitch!" High-pitched with unrestrained fear, Dean leapt off of Hael and immediately threw a towel around his burned arm, trying to wipe off the holy oil. "Heal yourself! Can you do that? Hurry!"

"N-n-not w-while holy oil's in me," he stammered, suddenly shivering in shock. "It's dead. She's going to heal now."

Chapter Text

Holy oil ate away at Castiel's arm like acid. Pain blinded him at the kitchen sink until his knees threatened to buckle and his white knuckle grip on the counter cut into his palm. Somewhere in the fog, he felt distant awareness of cool water spilling down his burned arm as Dean desperately hurried to wash away the oil. So long as holy oil remained burrowing into his flesh, he couldn't heal himself.

"Sammy! Get in here!" Dean barked tensely. His tone softened for Castiel. "I dunno what to do. The rubber glove's melted into your arm. Hold on, Cas. Sammy'll know what to do." But then he went stiff beside Castiel again and his attention shifted to the doorway. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I was out looking for a job!" Hetanel snapped when he saw Hael unconscious on the floor with Sam hovering over her and Dean hovering over Castiel at the kitchen sink. "I go out for an evening and what do you three do here? What in God's name happened? Where's my daughter?"

"The serpent is dead," Castiel managed to grind out of his mouth.

"Bobby took the kids somewhere safe," added Sam in the living room.

"At no small cost. Hael?" A silence followed and Castiel, unable to pick his head up from the counter, assumed he tended to her first. "Okay. She seems fine. Wing color is good. She'll come around soon, I think. Castiel? What about you?" The enormous presence of that Northern Cheyenne angel appeared at his side opposite Dean and leaned in for a close look at the burned, mutilated arm. "Holy oil."

"No shit, Sherlock." Strained and horrified, Dean threw a protective wet dish towel over Castiel's wrist and hand.

The kitchen door slammed open against the wall with a crack like the rapport of a gunshot, stunning everyone in the house. Violent wind gusts sent pictures flying off the walls and sporadic dishes left out shattered on the floor. Castiel forced himself to straighten up, feeling the presence of another angel, just as Sam, Dean, and Hetanel all raised angel blades. Prepared for a fight, they unconsciously formed a barrier between the weakened Castiel and Hael, and the intruder.

Ethel strode into the house without so much as a hello. She eyed Castiel behind the Winchesters and then turned her attention to Hael lying unconscious on the living room floor.

"Who the hell are you?" snarled Dean.

Calmly, her gray eyes lifted to his face. "Ethel." She effortlessly pushed through the men and crouched at Hael's side. "Unbelievable. This is what happens when a soldier attempts to do the work of a surgeon. What did you use, Castiel? A chainsaw?" And then she noticed the bucket nearby containing a serpent's corpse submerged in holy oil. "No. Impossible. How did you--"

"--You're not taking Hael. Over my dead body," threatened Sam, switching his angel blade into the other hand for effect.

"I ... I can't take her now. My orders were specific. Give mercy to the parasitic angel before she infects other angels. But ... no. The serpent is ... I cannot believe it. Heaven's serpents are supposed to be impossible to kill." As Ethel endeavored to understand, her hands spread over Hael's chest. A pinkish glow brightened their skin slowly until the light tricked the eye into believing she held a pink lightbulb. "Hael is no longer infectious. I can't do the act of mercy anymore. I don't understand. These are not my orders."

"Mercy?" Dean whispered.

"She was the one who was supposed to kill Hael," Sam whispered back.

Cradling his burned arm against his chest with the wet hand towel providing only minimal relief, Castiel approached the living room. Pain left him weak and light-headed but it was all his doing even if it had been Sam's idea. He intended to protect his best friend by taking the blame because Heaven's superiors certainly wouldn't take too kindly to proof that the serpents could indeed be killed. But instead of flying into a rage and leaving to tattle on him, Ethel's pinkish glowing hands passed up and down the length of Hael's torso. Silently, Sam leaned in over Castiel's shoulder. They watched.

After a few minutes, Ethel said, "Hael will recover. This botched procedure you did traumatized her and she's retreated inward to reset herself, so to speak. It resembles human unconsciousness. Give it a few days. She'll return." Ethel stood and pried Castiel's burned arm away from his chest. She threw the towel on the floor. A cautionary warning passed between them as she filled his arm with warm, healing light. "Never again, Castiel. Heed my word. You're not a Rit Zien. You're a soldier. Your job is to enforce God's law by violence and killing when necessary. My job is to heal or give mercy when my orders require it. Do you understand? Soldiers do not do the work of healers."

"I'm no longer a soldier," Castiel replied quietly.

Her brow arched. "Oh, you think yourself a healer now?"

"No."

"What then?"

"I'm just me. Cas." A light shrug lifted his shoulders. "I'm a father. I'm loved and I love. I do what it takes to help my friends and my family, like Hael, and I don't wait for orders to dictate my conscience. These are things you'll never understand."

Indignation and confusion flared in Ethel's eyes. Part of her wanted to understand but the control Heaven had over her - over nearly all of the angels - made her reject his ideas. Her eyes tightened. Cold stiffness pulled her back as soon as she mended Castiel's burned arm back to new again.

"Don't try to do my job again," she warned, "or we're going to have a problem."

*****

"Hey," said Dean as he slid into the bedroom with a bundle tucked in his arms, "somebody wants his daddy. Feeling okay?"

An instant smile pulled at Castiel's mouth. "I told you I'm healed. Rit Ziens are very thorough. Let me have my son. Did Bobby just get in?"

"Yeah. I think he's starting to dig this granddaddy thing," Dean replied. He crawled onto his side of the bed and passed James into Castiel's arms. They sat shoulder to shoulder against the headboard and the angel let the fledgling gum down the side of his finger and Dean absently stroked his fluffy white wing. Quietly, he went on, "Sammy's put Hael in his bed and he's rolled out a sleeping bag on the floor. I dunno what he's thinking but he's too stubborn to let anybody else take care of her. Least Hetanel's got the girls."

"He's thinking he wants what we have," Castiel ventured. "I don't think she understands. She's not yet equipped to read signs of infatuation among humans. It may not go the way he wishes. He's forgetting how long it took me to understand my own heart or that I even had one."

"Sammy's the kind of guy that can't be told anything. He has to do most stuff the hard way before he gets it," Dean said.

"Which is why I haven't spoken to him about her," assured Castiel, "but he's my friend. He helped me understand you. We wouldn't be here like this with my fledgling - our son - if it wasn't for Sam's insight and encouragement. Sometimes I wonder if I should try to help him in return. It must be difficult to watch your brother in a fulfilling armorous bond while not having one of your own."

"I just hope he's not grabbing onto the first chick he saw like Hael because he could be lonely. Last thing he needs is another failure with girls."

Castiel agreed and he nodded. "You never know. She could surprise him. Maybe it is meant to be. You shocked me with your willingness, you know."

"My willingness took years," he admitted.

As the fledgling settled into the warm familiarity of his parents' cuddles, his pearly wings slowly went limp over Castiel's arm and then his green eyes began drooping with sleepiness. Dean slung his own arm around Castiel's abdomen just beneath James and nuzzled his head on the angel's shoulder. Watching movies that way had become a habit of his in no time at all. Castiel didn't mind. An angel's heightened senses allowed him the instinctive comfort of being immersed in his little family's scent - the baby powdery sweet mixed with Dean's leather and faint aftershave. He never said anything about picking up an affinity for James' and Dean's natural scents because human minds equated that kind of idea with wild animals, especially if they knew he could tell where Dean had been by the scent he rubbed on things as he passed. But there in bed, it felt like home.

"Don't you think James should sleep in his crib?" asked Castiel, feeling Dean's body grow heavier.

"No," Dean said simply.

"So you're a co-sleeper."

"A what?"

Castiel smiled to himself. "I'm ahead of you in the child rearing book. Some parents teach independence from birth and others prefer to do everything together as a family, including sleeping, not that I sleep. There are different kinds of that parenting style. It can range from mild co-sleeping all the way up to complete attachment parenting. At least that's how I understand it. I'm not finished with the book."

"I guess I'm a co-sleeper then," replied Dean through a yawn. "He's not gonna be little very long. You say after his second birthday, I won't see his wings once they molt and he won't need to sleep or eat anymore. This is my time for him to be like me."

Until that moment, that seemingly innocent conversation, Castiel never considered that Dean might have felt insecure about claiming an infant as his own yet outside of his species. The little boy would always be securely bonded to Castiel, both coming from the same kind, but he realized Dean wondered if the bond would be as strong for him. Of course, he may not have actively thought about it but the thoughts clearly lurked around his subconscious. So long as James behaved more like a human baby by eating and sleeping, Dean probably felt better about fatherhood, as if he could provide things he understood. But as soon as the wings disappeared from his limited human sight, there were going to be things between James and Castiel that he couldn't understand.

"Dean," he whispered, "our son will be like you because he'll grow up knowing you as his father. We both have a lot to teach him."

The hunter's face turned up on Castiel's shoulder. He said nothing but his eyes crinkled with a silent, tight-lipped smile. As well as Castiel knew him, he knew not to push a conversation rooted in emotion too hard. The Winchester brothers were more alike than they thought of each other. Both of them needed to figure things out for themselves.

*****

The next afternoon, Castiel occupied himself with the monotony of sorting laundry in the basement. Runaway angels were due to begin arriving the next day and the most peculiar need to clean up the house and make it more presentable overtook him. Baby angels, like baby humans he guessed, produced a ridiculous amount of dirty laundry on a daily basis. Colors separated from whites, boy's clothes separated from girl's.... Dean merely chuckled at him and called him a nesting pregnant chick. Whatever that meant. Castiel simply preferred clean, orderly living spaces. What was so wrong with that?

He scrubbed stain remover into the skirt of one of Katrina's little dresses. Too much honey in one of her bottles gave her an upset stomach and her dress suffered for it. As he scrubbed the pale lilac cotton, something tugged on his heart. One day, he decided, a little girl could be nice. He allowed his mind to wander around the idea of what it would be like to adopt another baby with Dean. Perhaps human that time. A small utopia appeared in his mind of angel fledglings and human babies raised together. No more forced division between the species. No more mystery about his kind. Yes, another child - a sister for James - sounded wonderful, especially with Dean. Not in a million years did he ever expect himself to welcome fatherhood, something so completely foreign to angelic instinct.

"What's up, Cas?" Sam trotted down the stairs with a black spiralbound hardcover book.

"Hello, Sam," he greeted with a quick glance from the laundry. "How is Hael?"

"Still out like a light. Looks like she's gonna have a scar where you opened her chest."

"I can heal that when she wakes," he offered.

"Okay, cool." Nodding, Sam tapped the spiral binding of the book on the table as if anxious to say something important.

Castiel tossed the stained dress into the open washer. "Sam?"

The entreaty brought him back to the moment quite suddenly. "Right, okay. So get this. I was just picking up Hael's stuff in the living room and maybe I shouldn't have opened it but this is the sketchbook thing I gave her. Remember I told her to try copying stuff?"

Castiel nodded.

"Well, she did, I guess," he explained as he slowly flipped through pages of various sketches all from her point of view on the sofa under the window.

"Excellent depiction of light and shadow," he commented casually.

"Yeah, really good, like she got professional training. But, Cas, look at this page. It was the last thing she did before we yanked the serpent out of her." On the final used page in the sketchbook, Sam showed him bright, colorful scrollwork of flowers and vines that never existed in nature. Not one of Hael's flowers could be traced to a known species. "I dunno what these are but they're sure as hell not in the house."

"They came from her mind," surmised Castiel, leaning over the sketchbook to study the strokes of her colored pencils. "There are places of hesitation here and here."

"Which means--"

"--Hael touched her free will." He met Sam's eyes, widening with confirmation, it seemed.

"Wow..." the younger Winchester said breathlessly. "That's so cool. I mean, I tried to encourage her, you know, but I wasn't sure it'd work. This was after I went to bed the other night, I guess, because I only remember seeing this one way back here of her wing and then the bookshelf here."

His barely contained pride and excitement brought a smile to Castiel's lips. "Congratulations, Sam. It appears you inspired the angel of inspiration. Those flowers don't exist on Earth."

"Oh. Heaven?" Sam picked up the sketchbook rather protectively.

"No. She made them up. Flowers like those simply don't exist in the universe," Castiel explained as he poured a capful of soap into the wash. "I suppose that, by definition, makes her a true artist. What she chooses to do with her talents remains to be seen."

"How do I encourage her?"

That was where things got tricky for Castiel. He wanted Sam to be happy and find a good companion, but he couldn't live with himself if Hael rejected him for some reason. Not knowing her well enough meant being unable to read her emotional state, if she even understood that she had one. Perhaps a wealth of love pooled in her chest for Sam the way it did with Castiel for Dean but she never knew how to express it. Or perhaps he'd never mean anything deeper to her than a distant human friend. Castiel wished he knew which way to direct Sam for his own good. Human hearts were such fragile things.

"Sam, listen." Castiel pulled out a chair for him, which he accepted. He took a deep breath and spoke carefully. "We've known each other for years. Do you remember how my personality was when we first met?"

"Yeah. Kinda cold and robotic."

"Yes, I'll admit that," agreed Castiel through a distant smile. "Free will never once entered my consciousness at that time. The beauty I admired in humanity was an abstract sensation, like looking at a painting, not anything based in reality, like living here with this family. It took time for me to understand myself as an individual, or that I even had the right to see myself as one of a kind with thoughts and feelings. I didn't learn it because Dean said so. I learned by working with both of you so much. You taught me by example. Now I'm here and I feel love and I even enjoy coffee or cheeseburgers sometimes." He paused long enough to read Sam's expression for any sign of comprehension. "I'm saying you should lead her by example rather than sitting her down and talking about free will. In this case, we don't understand talk. We have to see the results in action."

"Okay," agreed Sam with a nod. "I can do that."

"Just remember how long it took me and how many setbacks I had. I'm still not completely there yet either," Castiel continued. "Hetanel is further ahead than I am, actually. Driving comes easily to him and now someone has hired him to work."

"Yeah, can you believe where he's gonna work?" Sam chuckled at the reminder.

"I didn't get the chance to ask him about it," Castiel admitted.

"Oh, he's gonna be a bouncer at The Mouse's Ear. That's a topless bar," he said in a secretive tone. "Can you believe that?"

"A topless bar. Isn't that a den of iniqity where women remove their clothes for money?"

"Yep." A toothy grin arrived. "Those girls don't even know they've got an actual Angel of the Lord guarding them from handsy men. Dean used to go to that bar once in a while. He said it's a pretty clean place but Hetanel's gonna have a handful with truckers and stuff."

Castiel's brows furrowed and a white hot flash of jealousy shot through him. "He paid to watch women undress, did he?"

"Uh..." Suddenly Sam realized what he said. "Not if it's gonna get him in trouble."

Chapter Text

"C’mon, Cas. I was a different guy back then. I spent most of my life single and on the road." Dean tightened his thick arms around Castiel from behind and puffs of warm breath tickled his neck.

"The Mouse’s Ear. What does that even mean?" muttered the angel as he folded Dean’s laundry in their bedroom.

"It means nothing," replied Dean sincerely, his curled fingers sliding up and down Castiel’s arm.

And Castiel sighed. “I know. It’s quite frivolous to think about the past. I don’t know why Sam’s comment distressed me so much. He didn’t mean it maliciously and I was always aware of it when you encountered females you hardly knew. You even took me to one of those dens of iniquity. I just hadn’t thought about it since….”

"You’re cute when you’re jealous," Dean whispered through a thin smile. He pressed a kiss just below Castiel’s ear. "I may do a lot of shitty things but I’m not about to go gawk at cheap girls when I have you at home. You’re much more appealing now."

Castiel scoffed. “Sure, Dean. I’ve got spit up on my shirt and I’m folding your wash. I’m so very appealing.”

"Your grasp of sarcasm’s getting ridiculous." Laughing softly, Dean snatched the t-shirt of Castiel’s hand and dumped it in the basket. "I think—" he kissed Castiel’s ear again, "—you need—" another kiss further down his neck, "—a break." His hand snaked under Castiel’s shirt and scraped his abdominal muscles.

Turning in his arms, Castiel faced him and linked wrists around Dean’s neck. The hunter tasted like coffee and some kind of sugary cereal. He knew, as their lips pulled and played with each other, that being jealous over things that happened before they were together was ridiculous but he couldn't help it. Occasional new emotions such as jealousy proved rather impossible to control. His grip on Dean tightened and a hand splayed over the back of his head.

"I'm gonna ask Hetanel to watch the baby again tonight," Dean mumbled against Castiel's lips.

That stopped him. He froze, a replay of last time projected into his memory. "Are you ... are you certain you want to do that?" he probed.

"Yep." A sharp nod defined Dean's certainty. "You let me ease into all this, you know, when we're messing around--" he smirked, "--and I'm not freaked out like I was last time. I'm wanting the whole enchilada now if you do too."

"My penis is not a Mexican corn tortilla dish," replied Castiel bluntly.

Instantly, Dean's head tipped forward and his shoulders shook with laughter.

"What's funny?" Castiel asked, squinting and confused.

That only deepened Dean's laughter and he dramatically dropped his forehead on Castiel's shoulder. All right, so he didn't quite know what tickled Dean so much but the laughter proved rather infectious and soon Castiel chuckled right along with him.

*****

Laughter continued into the late afternoon with Bobby in the passenger seat of Castiel's new car. The old man dragged him out for a driving lesson since, he reasoned, they had to pick up a runaway angel from the bus station anyway. But driving was apparently a lot harder than it looked and Bobby found it all quite humorous.

"Cas, don't be so stiff. Loosen up those arms a little bit," Bobby urged.

"One must remain alert behind the wheel," replied Castiel, noticing that he'd have to turn into oncoming traffic to get to the parking lot.

"Alert, yeah. Stiff as a two by four, no." The old man shook him by the elbow just enough to make him relax slightly. "You're doing fine, boy. We're still alive and the bus is right there. Looks like they're just getting ready to unload folks."

Turning into traffic made Castiel grateful that he left James with Dean rather than be distracted by a baby in the back seat. Except, he thought as he held his breath and accelerated through a break in traffic, they were going to collect a new fledgling with his adopted angel mother. Only when Castiel pulled his red Oldsmobile into the parking space did he take a full breath and relax. Driving left so much to chance that humans never thought about and he wondered how Hetanel could do it so easily without considering how much could go wrong in a few seconds.

Both he and Bobby got out of the car and leaned against the trunk together, watching people file off the bus. Humans milled around taking their time and reuniting with loved ones without realizing an angel from Minnesota rode with them. Castiel carefully scanned people for wings, just as he figured the angel in question searched for his wings too.

"Who are we lookin' for?" Bobby asked.

"Demiel."

"...Is that a guy or gal?"

With a smirk, Castiel glanced at the old man beneath his trucker hat. "Female vessel. Male fledgling."

"Right," he replied, nodding. "Hard to remember you folks don't have guys and gals up there 'til you pick one of our bodies."

"A lot of us have preferences though. I don't mind taking female vessels but I like the fit of a male vessel better. Luckily there have always been several choices in any given generation of the Novak bloodline. Hael is so distinctly feminine in her demeanor, on the other hand, that I'd be willing to bet she prefers female vessels."

"Then why don't you guys have genders?"

"Male and female exist in nature for reproduction," Castiel explained, "and only God can create new angels. It's against the law of Heaven for us to reproduce, so the best way to prevent that is to make all of us the same, at least biologically."

Bobby shook his head. "More I hear about Heaven, more North Korea seems warm and fuzzy."

"There," Castiel interrupted and nudged his chin toward the bus.

"What?"

He started to leave Bobby at the car. "That woman with the car seat."

"Oh, game on," the old man mumbled as he caught up to Castiel.

They met Demiel on the edge of the crowd, she having been drawn to Castiel's hulking raven wings, and he having been drawn to her gold wings edged in black feathers. He'd never seen an angel with that kind of coloring but knew the bird she'd been modeled after was the golden oriole. The boldness of her wings, it seemed, imprinted on her fledgling with a wisp of golden blonde hair. She'd concealed his own wings with a blanket bundled around him in the car seat and carried it over her forearm. The fledgling probably struck others as an adopted baby since her vessel appeared to be Hispanic with caramel skin, dark hair, and amber-brown eyes.

"Castiel," she greeted with a nod. Her presence felt weary.

"Demiel," he greeted in return. "This is Bobby Singer. He, along with the Winchester brothers, have provided us sanctuary."

"Pleased to know ya," said Bobby. "You got any bags?"

She shook her head and peered down at her fledgling. "No. I came from a women's shelter. I told them my family was taking me in and they insisted I have this car seat for the bus ride but we don't have anything else. It's been--" her voice broke in a surprisingly human sound, "--it's been difficult since we've been on the run."

"Don't worry," offered Castiel as he touched her shoulder. "You have a nest now. We should get you both home. When was the last time he took any nourishment?"

"Last night." Demiel's face flooded with shame. "I have no money."

"We got plenty of that baby angel grub at the house," Bobby said in a rare moment of overt compassion.

"Thank you. They tried to stop me from bringing Noah to South Dakota. I see now that their tongues spun lies to put fear into my heart about joining you." She spoke quietly as she followed them back to Castiel's cherry red Oldsmobile.

"Noah's the little grunt's name?" asked Bobby.

"Yes," she replied.

"Noah, James, Evelyn, Katrina.... I'm gonna need name tags soon."

"Who exactly tried to stop you?" Castiel probed, more on edge.

"Bartholomew," she replied, throwing a sideways glance his way.

"Oh. It's gone that high up?"

"Indeed." Demiel nodded. "They can't touch the nest until it's broken up by discord among us, which, I believe, is what they'll try to do. More accurately, they've already been trying but it hasn't been successful. I know Bartholomew was behind threatening Hetanel's fledgling. Is that his name? I don't believe I've met any of you. I heard about what you did with Hael's serpent as well. Everybody's talking about it. You really infuriated our superiors with that stunt."

"I'm sure I did. I wasn't going to let Hael die though," said Castiel as he strapped the car seat in the back.

"Of course not," Demiel agreed, "But you must be prepared for Bartholomew's desperation to break up this nest. Our nest. I'm just glad we arrived at all. He sent his henchmen to try and stop me from boarding the bus."

"You're protected now," promised Castiel sincerely. "You'll stay in a room near Hetanel at the motel until the other two runaways come up from the South in a few days. Then we'll all discuss more permanent and, most importantly, safe living arrangements for the nest. Rest easy now. Noah will have plenty to eat and other fledglings with whom to grow up."

"Thank you, Castiel. I couldn't let my fledgling mature in a regime clearly carrying on without God's leadership," she said woefully.

"Demiel, I have to ask..."

"Yes?"

Castiel leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice. "Are you feeling?"

She hesitated but a subtle shift in her eyes softened the tension around them. "You mean emotions." Such a question would have been offensive to unaffected angels but she only appeared embarrassed, caught doing something wrong.

"It's okay to feel. It's not wrong like they told us," Castiel assured her.

"Brainwashing's an ugly business," added Bobby.

Nodding, Castiel glanced at Bobby for backup and patted her wrist like an older brother. "No one in this nest is punished for feeling or thinking for themselves, so don't worry about that. Hetanel passes for human effortlessly. Don't be afraid of him. He's good and honorable. Hael just had a breakthrough of feeling while she was infected. I'm in an amorous bond with a human. All of it has been made possible by the emotion of love chipping away at the walls Heaven built around us to control our destinies. Never believe you have to conceal the fact that you've developed emotions."

Suddenly a flood of tears swept through Demiel as if she'd build a dam to contain them for months or even years. She crumbled into her hands and sobbed, which stunned Bobby into taking a step back and looking at Castiel as if wondering what they should do. Angels didn't cry. But her tears emanated a distinct sense of relief and release as opposed to sadness and desperation.

Castiel carefully embraced the sniveling, tearful angel. "There now."

"I just want my baby to be safe," she whimpered into her hands against his shoulder.

"He is now," Castiel assured.

*****

"Wow...." Dean's chest pumped deep, heaving lungfuls of air as he stared at their bedroom's ceiling with his arm flung over his head. "I mean... wow..."

Amused, Castiel's head rolled to the side on the pillow and he observed the astonishment in Dean's profile. "Is that good wow or bad wow? Did I do what I was supposed to do?"

"Cas...." Eyes closed, wrinkles deepened from the corners with his slow smile and deep chuckle. "I'd give you a standing ovation if I could stand."

Pride swelled in Castiel's chest, realizing Dean meant it and truly wanted to make love that night, unlike the first time. He rolled over and braced a hand under his chin with the other splayed over Dean's chest. A thin sheen of sweat still glistened over his face and he struggled to catch his breath so soon after collapsing on his back.

"Are you happy?" he whispered softly.

"Yep. For once, I really am," admitted Dean after some thought.

"No regrets?" Castiel added.

"Nope." Meaty, calloused hands gripped Castiel's face and pulled him down for a lazy kiss. "We're good, Cas. Don't worry 'bout it."

Hetanel's goodness made him happy to keep James for the night once they all got Demiel and Noah settled into the motel room neighboring his own. They asked him more than once before they went home if he preferred they stay and help, both feeling guilty about taking time for themselves, it seemed. He waxed poetic about the importance of maintaining their bond for James' happiness too, and quickly shooed them out the door.

"Was it worth the wait?" probed Dean with a quiet sense of insecurity. "A couple of million years is a long time to go without sex."

"I didn't know what I was missing but now I do. Learning from you the past several weeks, and now tonight, all this - there are no words," he replied in an equally quiet tone. "It felt different compared to the first time. Far less ... inhibited. You let me know you. And I will always keep that memory for myself."

It visibly moved Dean but he quickly covered it over with a gentle smirk. "Ya damn softie."

"Well..." Castiel smirked with him, "...not too soft, I hope."

Low, devious laughter brought renewed life to Dean's face as his hand slipped beneath the blanket and enticingly passed over Castiel's increasing arousal. He wondered, though his thoughts went blurry, if his vessel would go rigid every time Dean even tapped him on the shoulder from now on. Not that he minded in that moment. The eagerness in Dean's green eyes made millions of years of solitude worth it. Taming the hunter wasn't unlike taming a wild animal, and now that he enjoyed the ultimate intimacy, he suspected he'd want it all the time. Dean may very well have created an addict that night.

*****

Unconscious, tangled limbs jerked awake around Castiel's silent stillness by early dawn light with a loud knock on their bedroom door. Sam didn't even wait for admittance but he shielded his eyes as he stuck his head through the door.

"God, please tell me you're not naked or something," he muttered.

"We're covered," Dean grunted through a drowsy yawn.

Apparently Sam didn't trust that assurance. He kept his eyes covered and said, "Thought you'd wanna know Hael's woken up. Says she's craving honey and rose petals but I wanted to ask Cas first."

"That means her grace was damaged and it needs nourishment for quicker recovery," said Castiel as he fished on the floor for his boxers and jeans. "The fledglings consume honey and rose petals to nourish their immature graces, remember. I expected this. It's a good sign, Sam. I'll be right there."

"Thanks," Sam replied, eyes closed, as he tugged the door shut again.

Flopping on his back, Dean let out a sigh. "I guess we're up now."

Castiel buttoned his jeans but kneeled on the bed and leaned over Dean with his hands planted on the pillow. "I'm sorry," he said. "This is a big family, I suppose. Someone always needs help."

"Least you didn't call to check on Squirt a hundred times during the night," Dean pointed out, lightly caressing his cheek.

"About that--"

"--I know. I'll go pick him up." Dean chuckled and sat upright.

"We should do something nice for Hetanel since he watches James so we can have privacy," suggested Castiel on his way out the door.

Chapter Text

Hael’s recovery turned out remarkable, even to Castiel, and she was up fluttering around the house with renewed vigor by the second afternoon. She tagged along for a walk with Castiel after Dean and Sam left to collect the final two runaway angels from the bus station. He decided, as they strolled together with their fledglings in strollers, that it might be their only time to talk in private for a while. Back at the house, Hetanel was deeply occupied with showing Demiel every baby item stocked in the basement.

"It's so pleasant to be out with my daughter and talk to her and feed her. I even missed changing diapers. Can you believe that, Castiel?" She chuckled at herself, pushing the stroller quite happily.

"Before I had James, no, I couldn't have fathomed it. But now, I could never be separated from him for more than a day. Now that you're well, Evelyn's disposition has sweetened. She's a much happier fledgling. I'm glad for that." He glanced into the stroller next to James' and the little girl watched him carefully right back. "And please, call me Cas. It's more familiar. I think we know each other well enough now. My hands have been in your chest cavity, after all."

"Cas. All right." Hael nodded, tucking the length of her pale red hair behind her ear.

As they passed an old gas station, Hael instinctively checked both fledgling's blankets. She covered their wings should anyone take an interest in what they probably thought was a married couple walking their children. Her eyes slid secretively to the gas station but nobody came outside. Suspicion between angels and humans might never fade but Castiel wondered if he could try to bridge the gap in time. He dreamed of a utopian life where they could all live and love in the open without hiding their children's wings or teaching them to 'pass for human'. The blessing of having Dean washed over him. And then he thought of Sam as he studied Hael's profile.

"How do you feel?" he blurted without thinking.

"My body has healed. My grace will be normal again in a day or two," she replied automatically.

Castiel chuckled. "No, that's not what I mean."

She tossed a glance at him and tipped her head, clearly not grasping his question. The little town square loomed in the distance, so he quickly explained everything he told Demiel a few days ago. And as he listened to himself outlining the emotional development and skills in free will of each angel in their nest so far, she nodded and listened like he was something wise and far more powerful than her. He realized he filled the shoes of leader, counselor, and surrogate parent to Hael and Demiel whether he wanted those roles or not. Really, the only thing he wanted was to raise his fledgling with Dean in peace but his heart wouldn't let him ignore other angels who so clearly needed help.

"Truthfully," she began with a sigh, "I don't know what I feel. It's all rather potent. Sharp, you know. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed but I don't know how to identify the source." She pursed her lips as if swallowing down a secret until it came out anyway. "You know Sam gave me a book for art."

"I know." Castiel nodded.

"I was practicing while I was sick," she explained, "and something happened to me. Very quiet focus came over me and I had this ... this urge to do something beautiful, not just copying the bookshelves or the window. So I did it. I gave in to my urge and I filled up a whole page with flowers that gave me pleasure to see. I didn't do it because I was ordered to do so. I did it because I liked it, and then when I was done, I suddenly became very afraid like I did something wrong."

Though Castiel nodded again, he decided to pretend as if he didn't know about the flowers in her book. "It sounds like you had a moment of free will and inspiration, which, of course, goes against all of the control and restraint instilled in our kind."

"I see," she replied quietly, taking in the ideas. "I was happy while I did the work. I hadn't known that kind of happiness before. Are you sure it's not wrong?"

"I'm certain," promised Castiel. "You're at the beginning of a lot of new and wonderful experiences. Sometimes you'll be overwhelmed and it might feel like too much, but in time, it'll even out and you'll come to wonder how you ever lived without feeling and free will. Most importantly, free will gives you the ability to determine how you want to raise your little daughter here."

"I see," she said again. "And are you pleased with this life?"

"Very," he said without hesitation. "I love my son, I love Dean, and I love this family we're building here. Every day I give thanks for my blessings even when things are difficult."

"This human companion of yours - you're fulfilled with him?"

"Yes," he replied, fighting the urge to meddle and sing Sam's praises.

"I see," said Hael for a third time.

Don't meddle, don't meddle, don't meddle. Castiel repeated it in his thoughts like a chant despite the fact that he so wanted Sam to be happy and to be his own man for once in his life. He thought Hael shared that same sort of quiet introversion as Sam and they could be well-suited for each other if a little spark ignited. But don't meddle.

"The most rewarding thing about developing feelings and free will is experiencing the nature of love in all of its many forms," he offered.

Okay, that wasn't quite meddling. Just hinting.

*****

"They're back! Where is everyone?" shouted Hetanel throughout the house.

Bobby and Castiel exchanged glances in the basement. The old man sighed. "Six stolen fledgling angels in my house. Even for me, this probably tops the weird shit list."

"You're being very gracious, Bobby," replied Castiel. "Not to worry. They'll stay in the motel with Hetanel and Demiel until we find a more permanent place for everyone to live."

"It ain't nothin', Cas. You're good for your word." The old man gave a friendly shove to his shoulder. "C'mon. Let's go be the welcome wagon."

Castiel stopped the baby swing and gathered up James to his chest before following Bobby upstairs. He liked having the swing in the basement since he spent so much time down there doing laundry for so many fledglings. James gurgled happily on his shoulder, only just beginning to try and hold up his own head.

They joined Hael, Hetanel, and Demiel in the living room, spilling over into the kitchen, each with their own fledglings. As Castiel realized how crowded the house became, he wondered if it might be too much for the last two runaways so soon - Timaniel and Mael.

"Are you nervous?" he murmured to Hael, approaching her side.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she softly bounced Evelyn in her arms. "As I understand nervousness, I believe so." A sigh followed. "It's been a long time."

Demiel glanced at them over her shoulder. "For what?"

"Mael is her twin," explained Castiel.

The revelation filled Demiel with a gasp and her eyes widened in astonishment. "Are you serious? We have a real set of angelic twins in our nest? That's so rare. I've never set eyes on twins in my existence. I began thinking it was just a legend a long time ago."

"Angelic twins are quite real, I assure you," said Hael with a certain tenseness around her words.

"Yo, we're back!" Dean shouted as he flung open the front door. Seeing the delegation stopped him on the hall rug, however. "Geez, you guys look like the Spanish Inquisition."

Behind him, Sam shoved his way into the house with bags hanging from his limbs like a luggage tree. "What'd I miss?"

"It's an important moment. Today our nest is complete and we can begin real work," replied Castiel as a female and a male angel carried two car seats into the house. "Hello, Mael. Hello, Timaniel. I trust your journey was tolerable."

"It was slow," said Timaniel with a light shrug. "You're Castiel?"

"I am," he said, nodding. "This is Hetanel and Katrina, Hael and Evelyn, and Demiel and Noah. And, of course, my James. Just there is Bobby Singer, who opened his home to all of us."

"How ya doin'?" Bobby greeted somewhat awkwardly, never quite knowing how to react to new angels.

"You're all here to welcome us. How kind," Mael said, visibly moved. Her eyes fell on Hael, her twin, and although their vessels looked nothing alike, their wings matched down to the last detail inspired by peacocks. Seeing one another again left them both speechless. "Sister, I'm so pleased to see you recovered from your illness."

"Thank you," Hael whispered, though she didn't seem to know what to say. "Did you escape unscathed?"

"I was already stationed on Earth. I simply chose not to go back once the new generation came." Mael glanced at her fledgling in the car seat. "I'm calling him William. They gave him to me the same day all of the human news channels were talking about the English human, Prince William, having a son too. I liked the name."

"It's a lovely name," Hael offered. She seemed to thaw a bit.

Castiel studied Timaniel's patient countenance as the twins worked through more than a century of separation. Where Hael's appearance was light like an Irishwoman, Mael's appearance was dark like an Italian. One twin resembled the sun and the other resembled the moon. For his vessel, Timaniel had apparently bonded to a nondescript bloodline of so many different human nationalities that he evened out into something that could have passed for a Winchester right down to hazel eyes. He struck Castiel as quiet and studious, perhaps even shy.

"And what would you like us to call your fledgling?" Castiel asked him.

"Oh," he replied as if a bit startled, "I have a girl. I call her Sarah."

"Okay, hold on. Lemme see if we got this," Sam interjected as he put the luggage in the corner and then carefully pointed out each child in an informal roll call. "We have James, Evelyn, Katrina...."

"...That one's Noah," Dean filled in for him.

"Noah," repeated Sam with a nod, "and then William and Sarah."

"We almost have enough for a football team," mused Bobby, leaning on his desk. "Good lookin' kids if you ask me, not that I know anything 'bout bringin' up human grunts let alone angel grunts."

Castiel sensed Dean shifting to business in his mind, but not before bending to kiss the back of James' head. He casually rested his hand on the small of Castiel's back, perhaps as if to firmly establish their relationship for the newcomers without being forced to say it out loud. And as he spoke, he kept his arm securely looped around the lower portion of Castiel's waist.

"So Sammy and I noticed this apartment complex on the way back from the bus station," he said to the lot of them. "We came up with a plan but we wanna know what you guys think before we do it. Staying in a motel isn't great for babies even if they are angels and we want everybody to have real homes. It's not cheap with this many of you though. Our idea was that you guys pair up, two angels and two fledglings, like roommates. One in the pair finds work and the other takes care of the little rugrats 'til they start school. That way the nest is all together in one or two buildings, you know, as close as possible, and everybody's doing something to pull their weight. What do you think?"

Hetanel nodded first. "Yes, I like that idea. I already have a job."

"Right, so maybe you can share a place with Timaniel or something," suggested Sam.

Nodding as well, relief colored Timaniel's face. "I'm not at all prepared to work among humans. I'd be happy to look after our young."

"And I don't want to make Hael maintain employment so soon after her illness. If you'll have me, sister, perhaps we could share a living space and I'll earn the money for our keep." A questioning, hopeful glance passed between Mael and Hael.

Silently, Hael nodded.

"Cool, I didn't think this would be so easy," said Dean with a raised brow. "And Cas, of course, we'll get a place too."

"I'd like to have Demiel remain close to me," requested Castiel, glancing her way, though he didn't want to embarrass her in front of everyone by saying he felt she was at a critical point of her emotional development. "Surely the three of us can share an apartment."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, "yeah, that's cool."

A smile creased Demiel's face, as much relieved not to be forgotten as she was hopeful for the future, it seemed.

"It's gonna take some time to get everybody situated but we're gonna figure out how to keep everybody safe, okay?" Dean reassured the new arrivals quite protectively. He explained himself a little further. "Don't be afraid to ask us if you can't figure something out or you wanna know how humans do stuff. It's gonna be really important that people in that complex think we're just normal people. Sammy and I thought up a story to explain why you guys are all basically single parents to kids the same age. We'll work on that later though."

"First lesson in humanity is food," Sam said, rubbing his stomach. "We know you don't need to eat but there'll be times when you need to do it just to look like people."

"I've eaten before," offered Hetanel.

"So have I," Castiel added.

"I was thinking we could all go out to eat together. You know, to celebrate everybody finally being here and stuff." A smile brightened Sam's face.

*****

Seated at the head of the table, Castiel stared down the lengthy rectangular expanse of it, taking in the sight of angels and humans chatting among themselves over dinner. Many of them had never eaten before but they bravely foraged ahead like a grand experiment. They decided they couldn't go anywhere fancy with so many children but the restaurant they chose welcomed them like a little birthday party, it seemed.

He couldn't believe it.

The entire nest was finally together. Safe. At least, for the moment.

Some of them seemed quieter than others. Demiel admitted to being harassed by their superiors, namely Bartholomew, and he suspected the timidity in Timaniel had to do with a similar incident. He made mental notes of which angels needed one-on-one attention first. Two of the fledglings appeared to be a bit underweight as well, and he reminded himself to examine their condition directly. Indeed, Castiel expended a lot of energy making sure to get everybody settled and content. He considered each of them his personal responsibility. They had, after all, left Heaven because of his example despite not intending for things to go that way.

A warm hand draped over his on the table, pulling him back to the moment. Dean sat around the table's sharp corner with James balanced in the crook of his other elbow.

"You cool?" he probed privately.

"I'm cool," replied Castiel, mimicking his language with a faint smile. "I'm just thinking of everything I must do."

Dean gave an understanding nod.

"Are you sure you don't mind Demiel and Noah living with us?" he asked in a lowered tone.

"Doesn't matter to me. I figure you've got some reason for it."

"I do," Castiel confirmed. "She's a bit traumatized, I think. Our superior tried to intimidate her into not coming here. I suspect the same happened to Timaniel as well. It's far more difficult to disobey when an angel is just beginning to sense emotions and the responsibility of free will. It's an impossibly confusing time. If it's not handled gently, the revelations of emotions and free will can turn an angel from a shepherd of man into Lucifer."

"Lucifer...." Eyes widened and then narrowed.

"Yes, Lucifer. These things don't come naturally to us. I must watch each of them carefully and counsel as best as I can," Castiel explained. "Once I'm certain Demiel can handle her development, we'll get her established in her own home. I suspect independence is going to help all of them understand themselves as individuals. That's what I want for them - independence and happiness."

Though Dean listened intently and nodded, he said nothing. Castiel's head tilted at him and he wondered if he said something wrong. He expected Dean to have some opinion on it. The hunter had an opinion on everything. He simply stared at Castiel with a new softness in his green eyes, matching the softness in the way he held James.

"What?" Castiel finally asked.

Squeezing his hand, Dean licked his lips the way he did when he couldn't find the right words. "I just ... I keep thinking of how you were when we first met. You could kill without blinking. Smite an entire city if your orders said to do it. Now I'm looking at you thinking you probably couldn't even squash a fly without feeling bad for the fly's family. You've come so far and you want other angels to have what we do." He paused, glancing down the table and back. "I just can't believe you see something worth loving in me. I'm being a friggin girl. Don't even look at me right now."

"I see everything worth loving in you," countered Castiel, "and you're wrong about one other thing. I'd kill again in a split second if something came after you or our son, or even anyone else at this table."

"You blow me away every day," Dean said, half of his mouth tugging higher in amusement but deep and abiding love underneath.

A mutual need for closeness drew Dean and Castiel together over the corner of the table. Kissing Dean in front of everyone at the table, everyone in the restaurant, really, exhilarated Castiel down to his toes and back up to the prickly sensation along his scalp. Letting go of his hand, Dean framed his cheek under his palm and lovingly molded their lips to one another. For a moment, they forgot where they were.

Bobby's ear-splitting whistle from the other end of the table cut into their bubble and brought them crashing back to reality.

"Hey! Get a damn room!" Sam barked jokingly from his seat between the twin angels, throwing a wadded napkin at Dean and Castiel. "Don't scar my nephew by squeezing him between your honeymoon phase."

"What's a honeymoon phase?" asked Castiel, arching a brow.

"Shut up, Sammy," laughed Dean.

"I think I'm going to like it here," commented Demiel, smiling over her French onion soup. "You all like to laugh. We never laughed back home."

"There was nothing to laugh about," Mael added.

Her twin nodded. "Everything will change. Everything has changed."

Chapter Text

Dean had no conception of his beauty in the earliest light of morning. He slept soundly, his shoulder jammed into his pillow, and breathing languidly on Castiel's arm. The angel had gotten Dean to sleep with the windows open as long as the heat of late summer held. Slowly, ever so slowly, Castiel breathed life into their little room. It stopped feeling like a cave - a place to hide - and evolved into a place where their little family could bond.

Golden yellow rectangles stretched over Dean's face and his chest through the east window. His scruff seemed neglected at first, a reddish tint in the light brown hair, until Castiel looked closer and noticed it appeared neatly trimmed. He smirked. Dean was growing a bit of a beard purposefully, perhaps anticipating the coming winter.

The angel rolled over and pressed a slow kiss to the hunter's jawline. Coarse, prickly, and soft all at once, he decided he liked Dean's beard. It came in gradually over the month since all of the runaway angels came to South Dakota. They'd been so busy setting up housing, jobs, teaching them to drive, and assimilate into human society that Castiel hadn't spent enough time alone with Dean for his liking. But the leaves were turning and a chill blew through the window each night. Fall battled it out with the last days of summer - the hemisphere going into its slumber just as James and the other fledglings turned three-months-old. Now he held up his head without any help, he often smiled at his daddies, and Sam even worked with him until he could hold up his head and chest with his arms at tummy time. "My nephew," became his favorite thing to say.

Despite kissing along Dean's faintly ginger beard, he still didn't wake. Castiel scooted closer and decided he'd gotten enough sleep for the night - much longer than his usual four hour stretches. His curled fingers skimmed through Dean's hair, which only inspired a distant groan somewhere in his dreams.

Castiel's mouth dropped to the rhythmic bump, bump, bump of Dean's pulse just beneath his jaw into long line of his throat. He thought for sure the damp, sloppy kisses coating Dean's neck would wake him, but they only stirred him every now and then. So he carried on across Dean's collarbones and hovered at the tender dip between them, which usually turned him into quite an obedient creature. That morning, though, Dean couldn't be bothered to wake up. It quickly turned into a challenge.

Burrowing under the comforter, Castiel groped around in the dark until his thumb hooked into the waistband of Dean's boxers. He yanked down the fabric until a thick length of flesh sprang free. If the hunter's consciousness refused to cooperate, it seemed his body was more than eager. Humans were so unique and interesting in the way their consciousnesses were completely separate entities from their bodies.

A faint smile pulled Castiel's mouth as he licked his lips like a kitten that found the milk. His hand spread wide over Dean's thigh up toward his pelvis and he gave the hunter a last opportunity to wake on his own. When he didn't, Castiel leaned down and wetly kissed a familiar line from the root to the tip of Dean's ever so cooperative arousal. Dampening his velvety skin under those kisses brought a groggy roll in Dean's hips that made him wonder if he was awake after all. It wasn't until Castiel's full lips opened and drew in his length that Dean hissed loudly and jumped, nearly making Castiel bite him.

"Cas?" he mumbled, stunned and drowsy, as he felt around the comforter until he found the back of Castiel's head. "What - the baby - he--"

"--The baby's in his crib in the other room," replied Castiel, letting go just long enough to reassure Dean, who never liked to sleep without James.

One night a week, James slept in his crib with Evelyn in the other room so his daddies could have time for each other. That was the rule. Castiel didn’t mind Dean’s instinct for attachment parenting (even if he hadn’t bothered to read that part of the book yet) but the angel made it his business to look after their relationship in the meantime.

"Oh ... Oh ..."

Another faint smile creased Castiel's blooming lips as he commenced his work. Dean's muscles liquified in his hands and he followed the trail of his mouth with the grip of his fist. A syncopated rhythm ensued until Dean's hips joined, unwilling to coherently decline that early morning treat even if he wanted to refuse. His hand clenched over the back of Castiel's head through the comforter, panting hard in his misguided effort to keep quiet. The angel learned quite a bit about pleasing Dean since they began life together. He committed every moan, every whimper, every tensed or loose muscle, every low growl to memory until he could predict exactly what Dean needed from him. Smugly, his mouth let go with a wet pop and his fist twisted over the most sensitive of flushed, hardened flesh, making a strangled groan seep from Dean's throat. Before he could come down again, Castiel's plump lips and flattened tongue resumed the oral assault.

"Cas..." That second utterance of his name utterly changed from sharp questioning to a whine, a plea, a moan for more.

But it didn't take much. Not even a warning for Castiel to pull away if he wanted. Dean erupted down the angel's throat - warm bursts of thick saltiness as his body curled and arched from the headboard. He couldn't swallow back the hoarse cries and perhaps he didn't even try, so lost in the culminating moment.

Eventually, Dean's body went limp and Castiel quietly crept along his side, emerging from the hot comforter to see his hunter rather flushed and content on his pillows. Sated, lazy grins passed between them. As Castiel laced himself around Dean's overheated body, he tossed a leg over his, which Dean's hand absently rubbed in his delirium. They shared the same stack of pillows and Dean's face rolled to the side, meeting eyes with his angel.

"You--"

"--I don't need anything, Dean," he said over Dean's unspoken concern. "The baby will be up any minute now. I just thought you'd want to get up too."

Dean smirked and his eyes gave a groggy, slow blink. "Later, then," he whispered. Rolling toward Castiel, he hovered over him, suddenly more dominant, and slid the wide expanse of his hand along his cheek. "Anticipation makes it better anyway. You won't know when and you won't know how but I'm gonna get you today."

"We're moving today," Castiel cautioned.

"I know. There's a whole empty apartment that needs breaking in before Demiel moves in her stuff." A thin smile through that new beard suggested Dean already had plans. With a quick peck, he added, "I'm gonna jump in the shower. Rugrat's probably awake and hungry. Meet you in the kitchen."

Suddenly, as naked as the day he was born, Dean threw back the comforter and hopped out of bed with renewed vigor. He wasn't prone to delivering such precise instructions like that anymore and it struck Castiel as odd. Nevertheless, he too climbed out of bed and threw on his clothes for the day - old things that he didn't care about ruining while they moved furniture and boxes. Who knew Dean had so much stuff for a home stashed away in one of his many storage lockers?

James indeed lay awake in the crib beside Evelyn, still asleep. Hael wasn't quite ready to move yet but she would be in a few weeks. Fat little baby cheeks plumped even more with James' new talent for recognizing his daddies with smiles. Green dinosaur onesie pajamas had been replaced with red and blue onesie pajamas that Dean chose with a little cartoon monkey over the chest. James put on weight like a champ, he'd said, and was on his way to being a wrestler in school. Well, Castiel didn't know about that, but he did know the way James eagerly flapped his pearly white wings when he picked him up suggested that his instincts wanted to fly. It wouldn't be long. Perhaps another three months and disappearing fledglings would become an issue.

And as Castiel plucked his baby from the crib, an envelope fluttered to the mattress from his little kicking legs. He tucked an arm under James' bottom, holding the fledgling to his chest. As he leaned down and grabbed the envelope, Dean's familiar handwriting caught his attention with a certain fluttering in his stomach.

"Did you and DD write another letter?" he asked James. It was the fourth. Nearly once a week, he found such letters written by Dean in their child's voice. They'd been calling Dean 'DD' for 'Daddy Dean' to tell them apart.

Dear Daddy,

I heard we get to move into a home of our own today. DD told me all about it! I have a room all for me with no crabby girls in my crib! There's a playground in the apartment complex too and I want to learn the swings and slides as soon as I'm big enough. DD says he never got to live close to playgrounds. Don't tell him, Daddy, but I think he's more excited about the playground than I am.

Daddy, I love you and DD loves you too. We're going to have a real home and we're really going to try to be happy for once. I promise not to cry too much when you and DD want to have your daddy dates. When I'm bigger, we're going to have so much fun. Promise!

Love,
James

Chapter Text

Emptying Dean's drawers into boxes was such an unexpected intimate act. Castiel internally analyzed the importance of being tasked with such a job alone in what was, as of that day, their former bedroom. Being given free reign to rifle through private human possessions most certainly signaled a level of trust and privacy between them unmatched by anyone else in Dean's life.

Castiel carefully folded all of his band t-shirts into one box and wrote 'music shirts' in big block letters on the box. The marker smelled awful, much worse to him than humans, he suspected. Each chemical required to make permanent black ink battled it out in Castiel's senses, but he ignored it, moving on to a bottom dresser drawer. Thicker, warmer clothes were stored there, it seemed. And so was a collection of pornographic magazines. That didn't surprise him in the slightest but the variety did. Busty Asian Beauties, of course. Hentai animated porn - still not surprising either. There was one magazine sandwiched between those toward the bottom of the stack that lifted Castiel's eyebrow though. Men. All men. Not one female in the entire magazine. He wondered with only mild curiosity exactly how long Dean had been struggling with the dichotomy in his character. Then he packed away the magazines with the sweatshirts and sweaters as if he hadn't seen them.

As he organized Dean's bookshelf and packed away the volumes he pretended never to read, two sets footsteps and muffled conversation approached from the hall. Sam and Hetanel filed into the room like massive statues of mythical half-man, half-gods. He rarely noticed their sizes when he encountered them individually, but together made them both rather imposing.

"Geez, Cas, you work fast," Sam commented as he began stripping the linens off the bed. "Dean's back with the truck. Sent us up here to take apart the bed and start hauling boxes."

"It's kind of Bobby to lend Demiel this bed until she can get her own," Castiel replied. He and Dean bought a new bed that already stood in the apartment ready to be assembled, along with a new dresser, mirror, and bookshelf.

"Yeah, about Bobby," offered Hetanel, "you better get downstairs before they kill each other. They're arguing over something."

Nodding with a sigh, Castiel abandoned his packing and hurried downstairs. There he found Bobby seated at his desk with James sitting on his thigh, reclining against the old man's chest, while Dean darted around the room in a cloud of anxious energy as he filled a box with odds and ends that belonged to him. James' eyes tracked Dean back and forth through the room and occasionally into the kitchen.

"I bought the damn thing," Dean barked as he collected his coffee mugs from a cabinet.

"Well, you ain't takin' it," retorted Bobby.

Castiel cleared his throat harshly and broke the heated discussion. "What's going on?"

"Bobby won't let me take our son's crib," explained Dean from the floor, gesturing toward the old man with a roll of tape. "You reason with him. I don't speak crazy."

Confused, Castiel glanced at Bobby but he quickly realized the deeper reason for such an odd refusal. The fledgling's binky rolled happily with his quick sucking motion and then suddenly stopped for a smile behind the plastic. Even with those growly men storming around the house, James remained the picture of innocence and happiness every day.

"Dean, join me outside," Castiel requested firmly. He didn't wait for an argument. He departed through the kitchen screen door.

In moments, Dean followed, his entire face wrinkled with confusion. "What?"

"Did you bother asking Bobby why he won't let you take the crib?"

"No. He just said he bought another one for the and he wanted this one."

That made sense given what Castiel saw in Bobby. He nodded and lightly grasped Dean's wrist. Sometimes that kind of gentle, intimate touch made him more pliable and willing to listen to reason.

"He's not reacting this way to be difficult, Dean," he explained. "James means a great deal to him. He thinks this is the only grandchild he's ever going to have, which upsets him, because he didn't think he would ever fill this role. Now he is and he wants it. We've lived here for three months with our child but after today, Sam is the only one left. This is why Sam decided to continue on living here - he doesn't want Bobby to be alone after so many people were living here. It's difficult for him. Can't you see that?"

"Oh..." He hadn't gotten it before, apparently.

"He wants the old crib because it means James will still be around. Understand?"

A bit dumbly, Dean nodded. He clearly hadn't viewed Bobby as a person with feelings very often in the past. "Why didn't he just say that?"

"Dean..." A smirk overtook Castiel before he could stop himself and he gave Dean a rather human side eye. "Would you be able to say something like that?"

"Okay, okay, I get it," he conceded with a sigh. "The old crib stays then. But if I don't like the new crib, I'm taking it back and getting something I do like."

The angel pouted. "Do I get a say in this?"

"Not really." Smirking, Dean snatched an arm around his waist and yanked him close for a kiss as they strolled back into the house. "You're still on probation for trying to dress my boy in pink."

"Pink was considered a masculine color in the nineteenth century," he argued.

"Out of the way back machine, babe. This is 2013 and boys'll get the crap kicked out of them on the playground for wearing chick colors."

"Gender identity is such a peculiar thing with you humans." Shaking his head, Castiel quietly grinned to himself and decided to sneak in a few 'chick colors' every now and then just to keep Dean on his toes and prove how silly such things were in human society.

*****

The three bedroom apartment was on the fourth floor of their new building, above apartments already occupied by Hetanel and Timaniel in one, and Mael in another. Once Hael felt strong enough to care for Evelyn on her own, she intended to move in with Mael, her twin. For now, she remained with Sam at Bobby's house. Castiel considered that her hesitation was more mental than physical. She wasn't ill anymore but she made excuses as if she feared emerging into human society the way the others had.

Once everyone left that evening and Castiel, Dean, James, Demiel, and her boy, Noah, stood alone in their new home, no one seemed to know what to do first. Boxes stacked against walls in each room and mismatched furniture needed to be arranged. But Dean was tired. Castiel saw it clearly.

"I'm going to arrange our room and get him down for the night," said Demiel quietly, patting Noah's bottom. "Thank you again for letting us live here with you."

"It's no problem," replied Castiel with a soft smile.

She disappeared down the hall to the third bedroom, rather small actually, but she didn't sleep as an angel and she insisted they didn't need much space. When they eventually moved out, Dean intended to convert the little room into an office, unconsciously mimicking Bobby's influence.

Dean collapsed into the only open spot on their couch with James on his chest.

"You're tired," Castiel said quietly.

"Mh-hmm," replied Dean.

But as Castiel studied him, certain colors in his soul magnified that weren't so prominent before. "There's something else."

The hunter reclined back on the couch and peered up at Castiel through weary green eyes. James peered up at him a moment later with the same green eyes, which always took Castiel's breath.

"I never had my own place," Dean admitted quietly, almost fearfully. "My mom died when Sammy wasn't much bigger than James and that was the last real home I had until now. I mean, I stayed with Bobby sometimes, but it was always his place. You know?"

Castiel didn't know, really, because he never had a home in the human sense of the word. He lowered onto the arm of the couch and laced his fingers through Dean's, giving his hand a tight squeeze. It was an important moment for Dean, finally having a home of his own, and even if Castiel couldn't quite grasp what he must have felt, he could be there for him. Part of Dean seemed to fear establishing roots. Allowing himself to feel any measure of happiness meant the devastation would be even worse should anything bad happen to that home or the family in it.

"Why don't I put together the bed and we'll start unpacking tomorrow?" Castiel offered. He caressed Dean's hand under his thumb.

"You can't do that yourself," he mumbled wearily.

"Have you forgotten what I am?" Castiel laughed. The sensation felt completely foreign, laughing, but it seemed Dean really forgot he was an angel for a moment.

"Genie, snap your fingers and put everything in order," he joked with a sleepy drawl.

"I think you should have the experience of putting your own home in order. It might be helpful for slaying a few old ghosts in your mind." Castiel brought Dean's hand to his mouth and kissed it. With his free hand, he opened his palm toward the bedroom doorway that would be their own room. A flash of imposing white light burst from his palm. "There. Bed is ready for you and the baby."

"Aren't you coming?"

"Not yet." He gathered up James from Dean's chest and cuddled his fledgling. "I'm going to help Demiel get settled. Then I'll come lie with you."

"I like the three of us together at night."

"I know," replied Castiel patiently. "You really should read the attachment parenting book."

But Dean was already asleep on the couch.

Chapter Text

James screamed. Just like that, a three-month-old fledgling angel asleep with a binky still in his mouth jolted Dean awake and nearly threw Castiel off the bed with his wails. His gulping breaths rippled his tummy as if the little one struggled through pain.

"Hey, rugrat. Hey, hey, hey. What's got you so torn up?" Dean asked as he rubbed gentle circles over James' tummy.

It wasn't his undeveloped grace. Castiel would have sensed that before their child woke in floods of tears. He picked James up from the pillow situated between Dean and himself, immediately feeling unusual heat radiating from his body. Fluffy white wings drooped as if he was exhausted, frustrated, and simply miserable. Castiel cuddled his crying boy beneath his chin and brushed his lips over the baby's head. Just as he opened his mouth to tell Dean, wet spasms of coughing interrupted James' tears.

"He's hot. Very hot," said Castiel. Panic rose in his vessel and he felt the blood quicken through his pulses. "What should we do? Go to the hospital?"

"Just tap your finger and heal him," replied Dean, furrowing his brows with the clear obvious inclination of the response.

Of course, yes, it was the most obvious solution. Every instinct Castiel possessed demanded that he heal his fledgling just as he'd been healing all necessary creatures for millions of years. Staring down at his feverish, wailing child left him with a horrible helpless sensation. So he considered it. But...

"Are these infant fevers fatal?" he questioned carefully.

"Hold on. Hold on. Let the doctor take a look." Dean took charge, scooping James into his arms from Castiel's chest. "You got a fever, little buddy?" The width of his hand swallowed James' head whole. "Yeah, you're pretty warm, huh? You got a yucky cough too?" With a reassuring glance at Castiel, he shrugged and shook his head. "Kid's gonna be fine. Everybody gets colds and the flu. You gonna do your mojo?"

"No." It seemed harder to make that decision than he anticipated. Something dreadful tugged at his stomach as he watched Dean rock James in an effort to soothe his misery. "When I decided to be James' father, or one of them at least, I decided I wasn't going to allow him to be reliant on his grace as an easy out for everyday discomfort. We talked about that. So ... if you say there's no danger, then he should go through this like any other child."

Dean listened without judgment, it appeared, and nodded, recognizing that they had discussed the way they intended to raise James before. That night was the first time they had to put it to the test though. "Got it." Dean scooted off the bed with the baby, who's cries cooled into unhappy whimpers and grunts. "Hold on, Squirt. DD's got something for that cold. I know it doesn't feel good."

It astounded Castiel how self-assured Dean seemed with an ill baby on their hands. He personally worried himself into a knotted stomach and clenched fists, but Dean simply popped the binky back into James' mouth when he lost it, and marched across the hall of their new apartment to the bathroom.

"You didn't tell me fledglings get sick," Dean said as Castiel followed.

"I know. I hadn't thought about it. It's his body, not his angelic being. The human component of his existence is prone to the viruses and infections that all humans get." Highly concerned, Castiel observed as Dean dug through the mirrored medicine cabinet. "I don't know what to do without healing him my way. Can you heal him?"

"Sammy used to get these respiratory things a lot. I vaguely remember my mom sitting in the bathroom with him running the hot shower to break up the crap in his chest." He showed Castiel a small plastic bottle of red liquid. "This is baby Tylenol. Don't give him stuff I take. It's too much. He needs the kiddie stuff like this. I used to have to buy this stuff by the truckload for Sammy when he was a kid. You know Dad sure wasn't around to do it. So just fill this dropper thing with the dose for his weight and squirt it in his mouth. Make sure he swallows all of it."

Hesitantly, Castiel took the dropper. "You want me to do it?"

"Sure. You know I'm a working stiff now, Cas. These little surprises aren't gonna wait for me to come home. If he's gonna get sick, you gotta learn what to do if you're not gonna use your mojo to heal him."

"Right. Okay." Taking a breath, Castiel measured out the appointed amount of medication according to what the bottle dictated. Dean popped the binky out of James' mouth and held him toward the angel. As Castiel fed the dropper into his mouth, he murmured, "You must feel miserable. I wouldn't know about this illness. You're already stronger than me. You'll feel better soon."

"He comes from good stock," said Dean quietly.

Demiel's pale face appeared around the door frame, worry lines etched in her features. "Is everything all right in here? I heard your fledgling squalling over the noise of my television," she said, always so soft-spoken.

"He's ill," replied Castiel simply.

"Oh no." She tilted closer and looked over the fledgling.

"It's okay. Just teaching Cas what to do when rugrat's get colds." A thought occurred to Dean as he looked at her. "You know what to do, right?"

Demiel shook her head, a shade of shame deepending the faint lines between her brows as if she knew this sort of thing was stupidly simple to humans. At least that was how Castiel felt and he recognized the same deer in the headlights expression in her eyes that he suspected he showed too.

"Great," Dean muttered. He swayed, calming the unhappy baby in his arms. "Then none of you probably know what to do."

"It'll be an appropriate thing to discuss in our assembly today," decided Castiel as he put away the Tylenol bottle. "I think perhaps James should stay home though. He could pass his illness to the other fledglings."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Weather's turning. It's probably getting too cool out there for a baby to be on the playground with this respiratory crap. I'll hang out with Squirt while you do your group thing today. We'll catch some football on TV, have a yummy bottle, and work on coughing up this junk. Right, buddy?"

*****

"Cas! Wait!" hissed Sam, grabbing him by the elbow as the angels scattered toward their usual picnic table neighboring the apartment complex's playground. "C'mere a sec. Need your opinion on something before you get busy with your angel baby club."

"Of course, Sam." He lingered behind with the younger Winchester brother at the bottom of his building's stairwell.

Fumbling in his jeans pocket, Sam shoved a crumpled newspaper clipping at him. "Okay, so get this. There's an art festival coming up and local people can rent tables or booths or whatever to sell their stuff. I really think this would be a cool thing for Hael to do. Like maybe kick her into independence more if she sees she can do well in human society. Maybe she won't be so shy. I dunno though." He snatched the clipping back before Castiel could even read it. "Is it too soon? Is she ready to be pushed a little bit? I dunno. Maybe I should just forget it. It's stupid."

Castiel chuckled discreetly to himself and kindly took it back. "Sam, it's never too early to encourage someone to do good things. She's been doing a lot of painting this past month, hasn't she? Not just drawing."

"Yeah," replied Sam with an unsteady nod. "Good stuff too. Sometimes she's even making things up instead of just copying what she sees around her. The whole free will thing - I dunno - some days it's there but some days it scares the hell out of her and she goes completely silent."

"I see. Yes. Well, I suggest you explain what this is and give her the newspaper. She'll probably reject the idea at first. Don't fight her rejection. Just leave her with the paper and let her think about it. If it's a good idea, she'll decide on her own." It sounded reasonable enough. Castiel had gotten used to being a counselor to the nest as a whole over the past month whether Sam and Dean even realized they truly were part of the nest or not.

"Okay, yeah. Sounds good. Thanks, Cas." A smile flashed over Sam's mouth as he stuffed the article in his pocket again.

"You're welcome." Castiel glanced over his shoulder. The angels each with their fledglings assembled around the picnic table and left a space for him. "Sam, why don't you come join us today? Listen in. Learn about our kind."

The invitation gave Sam pause. "You sure? I don't have any fledgling kids."

"Well, not yet...." A knowing smile plumped Castiel's face.

Laughter rolled from Sam's belly as he slung an arm around Castiel's shoulders and strolled toward the playground with him. "Don't jinx me before the horse is outta the gate, Cas."

Castiel took the place saved for him at the picnic table the angels used to assemble every Saturday. When it got colder, he thought perhaps Bobby would let them use his house since a single apartment was too small for that many bodies and that many wings. Even sitting together at a picnic table had them overly conscious of trying to contract the wide expanse of their wings from each other's personal space. Feathers rustled. Bodies shifted in their seats. Sam never noticed any of it where he sat off to the side on top of the next table.

"Where's James today?" asked Hael from her corner seat beside Hetanel. Their fledglings - Evelyn and Katrina - had bonded much faster than the others and fussed when they couldn't be close together.

"James is ill," announced Castiel, but followed it quickly with: "It seems he has a cold. Dean is watching over him upstairs."

"Is it serious?" asked Timaniel next to him.

"Human colds are more of an annoyance than an illness to fear," Hetanel interjected as he picked up Katrina and plopped her bottom on the picnic table, allowing her to sit upright facing him. "It must be quite disorienting for his angelic self to be contained within a sick body."

"He's quite unhappy," Castiel concurred, but felt rather eager to change the subject for the moment. "How is everyone doing, generally speaking?"

Mixed murmurings rose from the table, indicating the affirmative.

"Your jobs?" he added.

"The girls asked the manager to give me more shifts. I suppose something about me frightens uncouth customers thinking they might touch the female form," said Hetanel, his interest detached from working in a place where women danced nude for money. "None of the girls are bad people but they're treated like merchandise. I'll work more shifts and the money will help our nest, of course, but I feel responsible for those girls and their safety as well."

Castiel nodded silently. He understood Hetanel's closer attachment to humanity which so resembled his own.

"I don't particularly enjoy my job," Mael picked up after Hetanel finished. "My vessel's feet absolutely radiate pain every day when I come home. I understand people are supposed to leave tips after each meal but the tips are worthless. The other waitresses feel the way I do and that, strangely, creates solidarity among us. I like them."

"Not many of us get jobs we like," commented Sam.

She nodded in his direction. "I noticed that commonality among humans. Doing this work provides for my son, however, and that means everything to me."

"This is why our nest will survive despite the difficult circumstances," said Castiel in a heartfelt voice. "Each of us is special, I believe. We're all different. We've broken the mold as they say here. All of us want to give our children freedom in life and that comes from a place of unconditional love. This is something our superiors will never understand. The sacrifices we're making for our children may be painful at times but I see we're all doing it willingly. For them. It gives me hope."

"Cas, you coulda been a preacher," Sam said as he leaned on his elbow.

Hetanel’s rich, dark features brightened with a smile. “I quite agree. You missed your human calling, Cas.”

"No, no. He’s not verbose enough," countered Hael. "Western holy people tend to drone on and on. Cas’ speech is quite economical. He doesn’t speak often, but when he does, each word means something."

"Good quality to have," Sam agreed, though he appeared somewhat uncomfortable that she praised someone else besides him. He shifted.

"Yes, but he could stand to laugh a little more, like you," she added with a glance thrown Sam’s way.

Castiel couldn’t fathom how he suddenly became the measure of a man they all compared to other men as if he was even human. The conversation derailed rather abruptly and he greeted it with silent indignation. Was he losing his angelic nature? He wondered if they steadily viewed him as a human teaching them how to be like him rather than just another angel supporting them the way he needed to be supported. And somehow Sam leveraged the conversation into a moment of flirtation, winking at Hael and her compliment.

"We need to discuss what we’re going to do when our children begin feeling the instinct to shed their human bodies and take on their true forms," Castiel blurted as if discussion about him flooded him with hot embarrassment.

All eyes shifted to him. The table silenced. Sam’s face instantly constricted in such confusion that he no longer lounged. He sat upright.

"James being ill - that … that made me think of it," he stammered, having not thought everything through before he spoke. "And before he was sick, he was becoming more aware of his wings. The instinct to fly won’t be far behind. I think they’ll all begin feeling it by the time they’re six or seven months old. Perhaps a little older. It seems to coincide with human babies beginning to crawl."

"But they won’t feel the instinct to shed their human bodies for quite a while yet," pointed out Demiel. She clutched her fledgling close to her chest fearfully.

"Wait," Sam interrupted, "aren’t these kids in vessels? You know, like you guys?"

"Not exactly," replied Hetanel. "Human infants have no ability to give consent for the angel to occupy them as vessels. Therefore, human infants are not eligible to be vessels for us. When you see a fledgling angel on Earth, you’re seeing … how should I describe it?"

"A bit like a protective shell and camouflage all at once," Hael said for him. "Look at Renaissance art with the fat little babies with wings. Don’t they look familiar to you now? Your people call them cherubs but you certainly know by now that cherubs are just another type of angel, not infants. Those artists were painting fledglings without knowing what they were."

"Angels get assignments here on Earth whether we have fledglings or not. If we have one, it must accompany us. God put it in place long ago that fledglings descend to Earth with protection around their immature, developing graces that resembles human infants," continued Hetanel. "So it simply appears that we have children like the rest of you and rarely are we noticed. The Renaissance painters were never believed when they said they painted what they had seen. We became better at concealing our fledglings from humans after that."

A sigh passed through Castiel, wondering how exactly they were going to handle it. “But when an angel’s grace fully matures, the oppressive instinct rises to shed the protective body and take on the true form.”

"We have quite a while for that yet," said Hetanel.

"Between ages two and three. Somewhere in there, it will happen," Castiel replied. "It’s something we need to agree on before it becomes a problem."

He could tell Sam desperately wanted to ask more questions but the one human in their gathering receded into silence. He recognized his place, it seemed, as an observer rather than a participant. Castiel didn’t mean for him to feel that way but he couldn’t exactly participate in a discussion that he didn’t understand. Soon he would learn. So would Dean.

"I would never presume to dictate how we raise our children on individual terms but this is an issue that, I think, requires some kind of consensus. If they go, we won’t get them back. All of our sacrifices and efforts will be lost." He gave each of them a moment of eye contact, feeling the need to drive his point home individually. "Our children will be lost forever if we don’t figure out a way to prevent that instinct from taking over."

Each of them nodded solemnly. Occasional hands slid around infants in each of their laps and lips brushed foreheads or downy soft hair. They all knew what would happen. It didn’t need to be explained. But Sam - poor Sam - he looked at each of them like they spoke Enochian in front of him. He had a lot to lose too. James was his nephew.

*****

Sometime after eleven, the front door of the apartment opened and shut, signaling Dean’s return from the bar with his brother. Castiel had encouraged him to go out and enjoy himself since he’d been home with a sick baby all day.

"How’s my Squirt?" he asked as he kicked off his shoes.

"I gave him more Tylenol. He’s not coughing as much but he’s still warm," said Castiel. "Did you enjoy yourself with your brother?"

"Yep." Something cool in Dean’s demeanor came to Castiel’s attention as the hunter crawled onto the bed with him. "We had a few beers and watched football at the bar. And, uh, Sammy told me a few interesting things." He glared across the bed, accusatory and wounded all at once. "So let’s talk, Cas. You wanna explain what the hell went down at your little angel powwow today?"

"You’re angry, Dean," observed Castiel.

"Little bit!" Defensively, he folded his thick arms over his chest and leaned back against the headboard. "I don’t need to hear stuff about my son from his uncle. I’m his father and I should know everything about him before anyone else does. So picture how shocked I was when Sammy asked me what I’m gonna do when James gets his mojo all filled in and bails on his body."

"Dean--"

"--Cas, why didn't you tell me about this?" he demanded over Castiel's entreaty, his voice increasingly gritty and loud.

"All of this is new to me. I haven't raised a fledgling before, Dean. You have an image of me that simply isn't true! I don't have all the answers on cue!" As he spoke, he felt his control on his emotions slipping and his controlled monotone exploded into shouting to match Dean's temper. "I'm simply trying to survive day to day as a father without really knowing what I'm doing, Dean! Thinking of something two or three years from now wasn't exactly a priority until I was reminded of it! You believe I'm perfect and all-knowing but I'm not God! I don't know everything! I make mistakes! Do you know what it's like to not really know what you're doing but have others depending on you to tell them what to do? Get if my back and cut me some slack!" That last phrase shocked him as much as it did Dean. He parrotted something he heard Sam say once before.

"And do you have a clue of what it's like to raise a child absolutely nothing like you but exactly like his father? To constantly go through landmines of special needs?" boomed Dean right back.

Castiel's eyes narrowed as sharply defensive as his clenched jaw. "Did you just compare an angelic fledgling to a human child with disabilities?"

"Oh hell. No, Cas!"

The hatchet of James bursting into wails hacked through the argument just as it spiraled out of control. Both of his fathers stepped back away from each other in unison, realizing just how angry they'd gotten with each other even though neither of them truly meant it. The stress of raising a baby together finally exploded like a powder keg, but the explosion dissipated into the air, leaving a frightened baby crying and squirming in the middle of the bed.

"Sorry, Squirt," mumbled Dean, much calmer then, as he gathered the baby to his chest and swayed around the room patting his back. "Didn't mean to scare you. It's okay. We're not fighting anymore. Shh."

Castiel fell silent and worked on unclenching his jaw. He took a breath with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Dean, I don't purposefully keep things from you. Don't think that way." And arguing in front of the baby left him so unsettled. How could he lose control like that?

"I know," Dean murmured with his back turned. "Sorry, Cas."

"Me too," he replied, barely above a whisper. "Sit down. I'll tell you everything you need to know if I can."

Chapter Text

"You didn't explain one thing last night, Cas," announced Dean quite casually, leaning over their modest little dining table and shoveling cereal into his mouth.

"I thought I answered all of your questions," he replied as he tugged the living room blinds open with their son tucked in one arm.

The hunter stirred his Frosted Flakes. A cautious sensibility pillowed his words but he still managed to lack gentle subtlety. "You never told me what you look like."

"You can see what I look like," Castiel said evasively.

"Don't be like that, Cas," he retorted, but then corrected himself into a softer tone. "You know exactly what I mean."

Indeed, he did. Joining Dean at the table, he tilted James in his arms so he could see his other father but perhaps part of him kept the fledgling there like a shield. They could start arguing again if the continuing conversation through the night wasn't controlled and managed. Castiel avoided looking at Dean for quite a while, knowing exactly what that image of his true form could do to him. It did the same to all humans.

"Cas?" Dean's tilt forward and his arched brow pulled Castiel back to the table, back to the surface of his fears.

"I don't think you should know," he said bluntly.

Dean's spoon drooped into the bowl. "You're joking, right?"

"No. This is not humorous."

"You wanna explain why?" He dropped his spoon in the half-eaten cereal and leaned back in the chair. "You do realize this means you're not letting me know what my own child will look like when he matures."

Though he said nothing, Castiel's body folded in on the fledgling on his lap and rested his lips at the top of his head, inhaling the powdery sweet baby scent. He closed his eyes for a moment, only opening them again when James' growing curiosity sent unpracticed grabby hands over the table. The baby coughed - a miserable wet crackling echo - but at least his fever broke earlier that morning. Castiel let his mind wander from the question before him despite the way Dean stared.

"Don't keep doing this," whispered Dean in a rare exposed moment. "We gotta make a go of this without secrets."

"But what I look like is frightening for your kind," he said. "If you knew the truth, the repulsion in your eyes would sever the last threads of strength holding me together. We're not the same species. It's better that you know me in this vessel."

Dean didn't seem the least bit fazed by the threat of a frightful looking lover. Most humans who even read about the true form of an angel recoiled in disgust, yet they weren't in amorous relationships with them. The naiveté in Dean’s curiosity would have been wonderfully charming and innocent if the pressure to describe himself didn't crush Castiel’s chest. He knew Dean wasn't just going to let it go but he did everything he could to dissuade that curiosity.

Again, his voice drew Castiel back to the surface. "Well, I guess I haven't said it enough or even at all." The hunter across from him scrubbed a hand across his forehead and cleared his throat. "I love you, Cas. I've always loved you, even when I hated you. I don't give a shit if your ass is covered in feathers or—"

"—Dean, I'm made of fire," he spat abruptly.

Dean blinked and subtly backed up in his chair as if Castiel slapped him. "You … Fire?"

"Yes." There was no point in sugar coating it. In actuality, Castiel couldn't even think of a way to soften it for his human mind. "I'm over a thousand feet tall. My body is made of liquid bluish white light to your eyes, but in Heaven, my body perpetually burns red. Pure energy. I'm a seraph and the closest English meaning of that word is 'the burning ones'. Sometimes we're mistaken in art by your kind as dragons with humanoid heads." Quickly, he followed that spilled confession with: "But I promise you - I'm not a dragon."

"Okay." Dean swallowed quite hard and draped his forearms over the table. "Does it hurt to, you know, burn all the time?"

"No. My body's not being burned in Heaven. I am fire. Do you see the distinction?"

The wheels in Dean's mind worked harder but he nodded. "Yeah. I think so. As long as being you isn't painful or whatever."

"No more painful than it is to be you." And that made Castiel sigh. He pressed on, anticipating Dean's questions. “Proportionally, my limbs are longer and thinner than yours.”

"Oh, like the grays," he interjected, shrugging conversationally.

"Like the what?"

"Aliens. Ever seen The X-Files?"

"Oh." He didn’t know if he liked being compared to an alien but he let it go. "I suppose the proportions are similar, yes. But I’m—"

"—Over a thousand feet tall. I know. Size matters." A little smirk played Dean’s lips as he attempted making light of the situation. Perhaps he did that to help himself cope with the truth. "I think I kinda saw your footprint or something when I crawled out of my grave. All the trees flattened?"

"Yes, I stood there," he admitted with a nod, keeping the momentum going before he lost his courage. "We don't wear clothes. There's no need for modesty or vanity. Those are traits of human society and it is written that covering the light of our grace is an offense to he who created us. That's why I don't think about what I'm wearing here on Earth. Clothes would simply evaporate in the fire of my body anyway, the way human eyes burn when they see me."

"You could go naked. Doesn't bother me none. Might gross Sammy out a little bit but, you know, whatever."

In spite of himself, Castiel smiled.

Dean smiled back. It became easier for them to talk about their differences in species, inch by inch. "Okay, so is that it? You're a flaming vaguely alien body with wings, and a human head?"

"Not quite human but close," Castiel corrected, pushing himself to try and describe it in terms that Dean could understand. He pointed to his vessel's face. "These are not my eyes but I've let them glow with my own fire before. You see it as blue because Jimmy Novak had blue eyes. I burn red, as I said. My true eyes are like the sun, which your human mind would instinctively tell you that I'm dangerous - I'm menacing. It's better that you never see my true form perpetually burn. I probably look more like the human stereotype of the devil than the stereotype of an angel."

"I've seen the shadows of your wings," commented Dean quietly as if trying to absorb the information in slow increments.

"Yes." The angel nodded. "Not all of them though."

That was harder for Dean to swallow. His eyes averted to the innocent, chubby face of their fledgling for an extended moment.

"There are six in total," Castiel explained gently. "The two shadows you've seen are for flying and the others go dormant while we're occupying vessels on Earth."

"What are the others for?"

"Long, long ago, I was a guardian at God's throne. We were never allowed to look upon him, so one set of wings folded over our faces to conceal our eyes. The other set concealed our feet, which were considered unclean in the Lord's presence."

Dean blinked hard. His lips fell open and his body tensed so slightly that no one else aside from Castiel would have seen it. "You ... Wait ... You were like, what, God's bodyguard?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. It was so long ago, Dean. Your ancestors were still highly placed Anglo-Saxon pagans fighting Christian conquest. The name Winchester didn't even exist yet. I never actually spoke to God and his divinity left Heaven before most of mankind became civilized." The only way to talk about his father's abandonment was to go cold and robotic or the sorrowful, angry emotions would overpower him. "After that, the seraphim shifted to command positions within Heaven's army. This is how you came to know me."

"Okay." Dean seemed to say okay a lot as if it helped him understand the truth better. A finger peeled away from his arm and pointed toward their chubby little fledgling. "Is he a seraph too?"

"Yes, I think so."

"You think so?" He repeated.

Castiel's hand curled around James' abdomen and the little one pulled and played with his long fingers. "I haven't seen his true form yet. It's not developed enough. I do feel his grace through his chest though, and he burns hotter than other breeds of our kind. I believe the heat means he's a seraph like me."

That affected Dean in a way Castiel couldn't discern beyond the glimmer of emotion in his green eyes as he contemplated his child. Sorrow, perhaps. The perpetuating nagging at his soul that he would never understand his child the way Castiel did seemed to roll just under the surface of his carefully controlled emotions. He was always so careful to appear detached or even cold to his surroundings but Castiel knew better. It didn't need to be spoken between them.

Dean slid from his chair onto his knees and approached Castiel with their fledgling sitting on his thigh. "Show me where it is," he requested quietly, looking up from the floor.

"His grace? All right. Give me your hand."

James' wide green eyes observed the interaction between his fathers with great interest as Castiel directed Dean's hand to his chest. Just above his little sternum, calloused fingertips rested. The fledgling coughed again - a constant sound through their apartment all night and morning. His face curled and reddened with sputtering fussy grunts that threatened the arrival of real tears. Dean held his hand over James' grace and caressed his cheek and the plump folds near his neck until his unhappiness calmed.

"I can't feel anything," Dean whispered, somewhat disappointed.

"His grace is just beneath your fingers. I promise." It wasn't much consolation and Castiel knew it, but he still tried. Lovingly, his own hand draped over Dean's, which James took as a game. From fussing to giggles, their boy flapped his hands and slapped their fingers, his mouth blooming into an open, toothless grin. "Do you see, Dean? Our child isn't being raised with the prejudices of angels versus humans and he has no conception of being different from you. All he understands is you're the one who sings Beatles songs to him when he cries and you're the one he'll call DD when he's able to speak. You're his father. That's all he knows and that's all that matters."

Saying nothing, Dean rested his free hand on Castiel's knee and dropped his head in silent contemplation. His thumb caressed back and forth over James' chest beneath Castiel's hand, and little hands playfully tried to catch it. A twitch of a smile lifted Dean's mood just slightly as he gazed at his child. Finally, he brought both Castiel's and James' hands to his mouth, kissing each of them.

"Are we all right?" ventured Castiel quietly.

He nodded. "We're good, Cas."

*****

A month of driving and Castiel still felt rather tense about it. He rarely drove further than the distance to Bobby's house so the old man could have overnight visits with James, always breathing a sigh of relief when he arrived safely. It wasn't his own driving skills that unnerved him. It was them. All of the humans out there giving in to intoxication, exhaustion, and every other distraction.

He pulled around back where Bobby usually worked in his salvage yard. As he shut off the engine, he noticed Sam and Hael near the back porch involved in a heated discussion. Sam's hands firmly planted on his hips always indicated his personal tension, yet there were tinges of red edging his soul's light the way Dean's did when he felt sexual attraction. Perhaps it shouldn't have amused Castiel but he watched for a moment in the driver's seat, intrigued by the human tendency to feel sexual attraction in the midst of an argument.

But it was rude to stare. He remembered how much humans hated it. So he climbed out of his car and untangled James from the toys hooked over his carseat in the back. Though a minor cough lingered days after the fever broke, he remained happy and giggly for the most part.

"Cas! There you are!" Hael shouted, stomping across the gravelly yard.

"Run, Cas," muttered Sam from the back porch.

Waving a scrap of newspaper over her head, Hael charged at him as he lifted James to his shoulder. "Did you tell Sam to make me do this art festival?" she demanded. The cool autumn breeze tugged at her reddish hair and ruffled her peacock feathers down the length of her wings.

"Um," stammered Castiel, eyes shifting to Sam. "I don't know. Did I?"

Sam leaned on a support column and casually folded his arms over his chest as if he'd been dealing with it all day. "I told you, Hael. I asked him what he thought and he said it was a good idea for you if you wanted to do it. Nobody's forcing you."

Raw, awful fear diluted the pale color in Hael's eyes as they dropped to the innocent newspaper clipping clutched in her hands. Though Sam couldn't see her wings droop so low that nearly half their length dragged the gravel, Castiel saw it. He decided she really wasn't angry at Sam but she was terrified for herself trying to join human society. They barely got her to leave Bobby's house once a week even though she really needed to move in with her twin, Mael.

"I just want you to succeed because I care about you," Sam added in a far less prickly tone from the porch.

When she didn't acknowledge him, Castiel whispered, "He's telling the truth."

"I know," she whispered back.

"Let's take a walk, you and I. What do you think?"

Hael still didn't look him in the eye, fingering the clipping, but she eventually nodded. "All right," she agreed meekly.

"All right. Let me just give the baby off to Sam."

Hael was going to end up being harder to understand than Demiel and he wondered if he chose the wrong one for extra one on one attention. And as Sam agreed to watch both James and Evelyn for an hour or so, Castiel began to wonder exactly what brought on Hael's phobic reaction to mankind. He had to get to the bottom of it for the sake of the safety of his nest as a whole.

Chapter Text

"I apologize for my behavior," Hael said shamefully, strolling beside Castiel in quite a flustered state. Her hand folded against her mouth as if holding up a dam against her emotions. "I don't quite know what came over me. Some days I have no control over what flies out of my mouth and I'm afraid Sam takes the brunt of it."

"He's strong. If it really bothered him, you'd know it," replied Castiel with his hands clasped behind his back.

They came to the creek flowing behind Bobby's house that widened into a deep pool on the far end away from town. Low hanging tree branches pulled gently with the water's current. A few treetops already turned golden, orange, and red with the approaching autumn, yet greenery remained as if summer refused to let go.

Castiel breathed in the fragrances of the changing seasons. "I do love this place."

The distressed angel in his company glanced his way and then stared up at the trees flanking the creek as if she'd never seen it before.

"Look with your vessel's senses. Your human emotions," he whispered.

Pale eyes turned up to his, sideways and skeptical. "Why?"

"Because you can." The simplicity of it brought a half-smile to his face. After everything, free will still hadn't sunk in as something perfectly allowed in that life she adopted.

Though she did gaze out over the creek, a despondent sigh overtook her after a moment. "Is it always going to feel this ... out of control?"

"No," he replied truthfully. "In time, you'll come to understand what your feelings mean and they won't overtake you with shock anymore. Right now you must feel like a volcano. I know. We all go through it once we make the breakthrough of understanding that we have choices in life. You've gotten through the most difficult part. It's just going to take time for everything inside of you to find an even keel."

She nodded. She still appeared skeptical but she nodded.

After a moment, he judged whether it was a good idea, and ultimately decided it was time to proceed. "Don't you think I ought to know what's wrong these days?"

"What do you mean?" Another evasive glance found his face.

"Hael." Castiel's head tilted, not buying her pretended ignorance. "You know very well what I mean. Things haven't been the same since the serpent was extracted. You hardly leave the property and you greet interaction with those outside of our nest as threatening. This is not the behavior of God's warriors."

"I'm not a warrior anymore," replied Hael as she turned away from him and strolled along toward the pool of the creek. "I never was a warrior. They said you were broken when you were created and, well, perhaps I was always broken too."

Following her, Castiel kept his hands clasped behind his back. "Why do you say that?"

"I'm broken," she whispered again with a faint sigh sent out over the creek. "Many of my powers are gone."

"Gone?" Castiel couldn't fathom it. "I don't understand."

She spoke of it shamefully and never met eyes with him. "I believe I've been cut off from home. My wings are still in tact, obviously, but I couldn't fly more than ten miles radius if I tried. I no longer see human souls. Only vaguely can I hear their thoughts if I focus on them. Healing - I'm sure I couldn't heal more than superficial flesh wounds. The bonding circle requires all of my strength. What I have left, I'm saving in defense of my child. No one else knows. Just you."

It sounded awfully familiar. Castiel had been cut off just before the apocalypse and many of the same things happened to him. "I see," he said, thinking. "Why have you been cut off and not the rest of us?"

Another faint sigh followed, woeful and consumed with regret. "Probably because none of you killed one of the superiors in your flight from Heaven. I did."

"You did what?" spat Castiel. "Who? Tell me now!"

"Marriel," she whispered.

His mind reeled. "Which one is that?"

"She was in discipline. Reprogramming. They decided just before I escaped that I was showing signs of doubt and emotion, so I was told my child would be taken from me and I was to go through reprogramming. So I flew at them. I wanted to kill all three of them in that moment, and I would have, but I could only get a clean shot at Marriel. I severely wounded the one who had my child. I don't know who it was." Laughing darkly, she shook her head. "Humans, I suppose, would call what I did a mother's instinct. I took my child and I jumped to Earth."

"It does sound like a mother's instinct," Castiel agreed, but he couldn't get his head around it. He rubbed his hands together, a shiver of anxiety passing through his vessel. "Is this the entire truth, Hael? Because you didn't tell me any of this before. You've put the entire nest in danger by withholding this information."

"There's nothing else," assured Hael.

He stood over her and held her eyes with the intention of intimidating her. "Absolutely nothing else?"

"No. Nothing." Backing away just slightly, Hael shook her head.

Castiel turned on his heels and, as he rubbed his temple, walked further down the creek bank. They were all targets for their disobedience but her most of all because she committed the worst crime by killing another angel. Outside of war, nothing aroused the wrath of God and their superiors faster. But killing one of the superiors - that was completely different - and their silence on the crime didn't bode well for Hael or any of them. Cutting off her powers made her vulnerable and the others as well just by association.

"Are you going to excommunicate me from the nest?" Hael asked in a rather small voice.

The question jerked him around, back to reality. "What? N-no." He rubbed circles into his temple again. "We're all fugitives. Letting them pass the sentence on you ... it just opens the door for them to do the same to the rest of us. I can't exco-n-no." Tangled in his words and the horrible images parading through his mind left Castiel unable to think clearly beyond refusing to excommunicate the liability. And he cared about her. In spite of her omission of dangerous truth, he did care for her and the fledgling Evelyn. "Besides, Hael, you know as well as I do that Sam would search for you if you disappeared. He wouldn't understand our customs. We're no longer servants of Heaven and I don't think those customs should apply anymore, especially if we judge them to be wrong, which I do. Bobby says family doesn't end with blood. There has to be some truth in that."

Hael breathed a sigh of relief but he didn't acknowledge it. Her wings drooped as well. Those beautiful, long peacock feathers could fall out in months - the last hurrah before full mortality set in.

"I will have to tell the others," he said. "Some may not take too kindly to what you've done."

"I know," she replied with a nod, averting her eyes to the ground. "I did what I had to do for my child. You would have done the same for yours."

*****

Dean pushed the shopping cart into the produce section and squeezed a selection of tomatoes. "So she killed one of the big bosses. Geez, that's like the American dream."

An elderly woman pushing her own shopping cart the opposite direction heard what Dean said, it seemed, and shot him the most horrified look.

"I'm thinking perhaps the grocery store isn't the best place to discuss this, Dean," whispered Castiel. He adjusted James' oversized hoodie where he sat in the plastic seat attached to the front of the cart, carefully concealing his wings.

"Eh, nothing but old fuddy duddies here." Dean shrugged as he bagged up the vegetables he wanted. "You sure you don't want anything?"

"Cheeseburgers."

"Of course." Dean smirked at him. "There's more to life than cheeseburgers, y'know."

"Yes. There's also pizza." He smiled back at Dean but it still didn't solve the problem within the nest. In a breath, he shook off the humor. "We need to call a meeting, Dean. The others must know what's happened and we need to come to some sort of agreement on how to handle it. The silence is dangerous. Heaven is waiting for a crack to appear in the solidarity of our nest so they can exploit it and get their retribution."

"Okay. Yeah, I get it. We'll call everybody to Bobby's - when - tomorrow night? I'll make pizza. Homemade stuff. Food always makes people more willing to talk about pain in the ass shit."

"People, yes," agreed Castiel, "but angels?"

"My cooking could end wars," Dean boasted as he rubbed James' tummy, eliciting baby giggles. "Ain't that right, Squirt? Just wait 'til you're on solid foods."

Castiel watched, completely baffled, as Dean reacted to the news about Hael with such flippant indifference. "Why are you so...?"

"Calm?" He looked over at Castiel with a soft shrug and he steered the cart into the baking aisle. "Hell, I dunno, Cas. A year ago, I'd take this shit on guns blazing, but now ... now things are different. I've got you. I've got my boy. Things just don't seem as angsty as they used to, at least to me. Don't get me wrong - I know this is a big problem and I'm gonna rip apart anything coming at the nest, but I just...."

"You're taking it as it comes," Castiel surmised.

"Yup. I can't fix what Hael did today but I can pay for groceries and give my kid a bath later. That's stuff I can control today." He glanced at Castiel again as he dropped a bag of flour in the cart. "Tomorrow? No idea. I'll take on tomorrow when it gets here."

It dumbfounded Castiel. He stared at Dean's bowlegged gait headed further down the aisle with the fledgling and the shopping cart. For the first time, it occurred to him that he just witnessed a glimpse of the man Dean would have been if he hadn't been forced into the hunter life as a little boy. In one way, he felt like Dean became a stranger just then, but at the same time, he understood that he got a peek at his soul without the walls built up with booze and self-loathing. Fatherhood gave him a purpose outside of himself.

Dean smirked back at Castiel over his shoulder. "You coming, Cas?"

*****

Late in the evening, long after James and Noah went down for the night, Castiel sat on the sofa and allowed himself his one pleasure. He didn't bother with the remote control. Blinking changed the channel just the same and he flipped through the television until he found it.

There.

Keeping Up With the Kardashians.

"Oh, Jesus! Aren't you sick of that shit yet?" groaned Dean around the corner in the kitchen.

"It's fascinating," Castiel replied. "They're human, this family, but they're ... not human. Not in the way I understand humanity."

"What are you watching?" Demiel emerged from the kitchen with flour covering her hands to the elbows. More flour splattered on her shirt and even her wings. "Oh my. I'll never understand why humans feel the desire to alter their appearances through such painful, bloody surgical procedures."

"It seems to be rooted in vanity," explained Castiel.

"Demmy, you're gonna miss the filling," Dean warned in the kitchen, using the nickname he'd given her.

She disappeared around the corner again. Cooking and baking had become highly interesting to her, not because she needed nourishment or enjoyed the taste, but because she enjoyed the science of creating food. Just the same, Dean seemed to enjoy having a student following him around for something much more pleasant than hunting monsters and methods of killing them. Anything that got Demiel in touch with her free will was great in Castiel's eyes.

Halfway through the show about human vanity, the cell phone in Castiel's jeans pocket vibrated. Sam's name flashed across the screen.

"Hello, Sam," he greeted with one eye still on his show.

"Hey, Cas," replied Sam on the other end of the line.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, no. I just wanted to let you know that Hael's gonna do it." It sounded like a smile bled through Sam's voice. "She came to me and said she's gonna do the art festival. So you wanna come out with us tomorrow? Bring my nephew and come check out the art supply store in Sioux Falls."

Perhaps unburdening herself to Castiel that day gave her the courage to try and begin integration into human society. "Of course, Sam," he replied after a moment. "I'll bring James after Dean goes to work."

"Great. See ya tomorrow, Cas."

"Goodbye."

It remained to be seen whether Hael actually told Sam what she did in Heaven and what kind of price she was paying for it, but he would know soon enough anyway. Venturing into Sioux Falls with them sounded intriguing at least.

Content for the moment, Castiel settled back into the couch cushions, put up his feet on the coffee table, and watched his show about human vanity.

Chapter Text

Tomato. Ham. Mustard. Turkey. Mustard. Ham. Tomato. Honestly, the way Dean preferred his sandwiches seemed excessively meaty to Castiel but he was in no position to judge. He fumbled his way through packing Dean's lunch as dawn ascended that morning. Splashing and deep humming bled through the bathroom wall and the angel smiled to himself.

"Scrub-a-dub-dub, flapping your wings in the tub," hummed Dean's muffled voice. "Scrub-a-dub-dub, soap is yucky so stop eating that nub."

Singing again--one of his bad, made up songs--amused Castiel as he spread mustard on a slice of white bread. Packing Dean's lunch normally wasn't something he did but it promised to be a rather long day for the hunter, now working in construction because the pay was decent. James would be asleep by the time he got home that night and he decided he needed quality time with the boy even if bathtime at dawn seemed a little unorthodox. Demiel's fledgling hadn't even woken yet.

"Hey Cas?" beckoned Dean in the bathroom.

The angel wrapped the sandwich and dropped it in a rectangular cooler bag, and then joined him by the doorway. "Yes?"

Standing over the sink, Dean had the baby in his slanted plastic bath seat shaped like a blue whale. "What's he doing? Why's he staring at me like that?"

The fledgling with sudsy hair and dripping, heavy wings peered intently at Dean. His silence came as a marked difference from his typical fussy behavior in the sink. The innocence of his wide green eyes flickered between Dean's chest and his face in such focus that he appeared eerily aged far beyond three-months-old. Intermittent gummy smiles declared that he saw something new and interesting in Dean that clearly pleased him. The child was transfixed as if he had never seen his human father before.

Castiel followed the trajectory of his eyes to the core of Dean's chest. "Oh," he said, a bit astonished.

"You wanna share with the class?"

Meeting eyes with Dean, he offered a smile of pride. "He's learned to see souls."

"That ... that's a thing? I mean, yeah, I know you see souls but--"

"--Angelic powers develop as the grace matures," Castiel explained as he took it upon himself to rinse off the baby and scoop him up in a fluffy, dry towel. "He's just growing up. That's all. Right, James? Look here. Do you see DD's colors?" He turned James toward his other father, a baby butt seated in the crook of his arm, and his free hand splayed over Dean's chest. "See it?"

James stared. And then, the pink, toothless cupid's bow of his mouth split open into a gaping grin. He squealed at Dean as if he lacked the ability to express his interest any other way.

Dean didn't quite know what to make of it--Castiel could tell--but seeing his child so excited brought him equal joy.

"Yours is the first human soul James witnessed in his existence," said Castiel reverently. He recognized the need for acknowledging a momentous development in their child and he wanted to be certain Dean understood it as well.

"Why me?" Dean questioned.

"You're his father," replied Castiel.

*****

Car seats that snapped into strollers were one of the greatest things mankind ever invented. Castiel reminded himself of this fact every time he took the baby out on his own. Driving was stressful enough without handling an increasingly active fledgling and several pieces of infant equipment. Castiel snapped the car seat into the stroller just as Sam and Hael pulled up nearby.

"Hey, you found the place," Sam said as he unfolded himself from the driver's seat.

"I am capable of programming a GPS," replied Castiel. He nodded a greeting and threw a subtle smile Hael's way as she put together a much more elaborate stroller with pastel stripes. "How are things?" Of course, that sounded like a loaded question given the secret between them.

"Things are quiet," replied Hael, peering at him over her sunglasses.

All right, then. He understood. She hadn't told Sam yet about how she'd killed one of their superiors in her escape, resulting in Heaven cutting off the power in her grace. Slowly, she drained into mortality like a battery draining into uselessness. It wasn't Castiel's business to tell Sam that day, but if she didn't do it soon, he'd find out with the rest of the nest. They weren't amorously attached as far as Castiel knew, but his awareness of Sam's deep and abiding affection for her made it seem wrong that he wasn't prepared before the others.

And so, two angels, their fledglings, and a hopelessly helpful human descended on an art supply store in Sioux Falls. Castiel half-expected Hael to back out beforehand in a bout of anxiety over trying to integrate with more humans, but she soldiered forward, and that gave him hope.

"What sort of things do you need to buy?" Castiel asked near the front of the store.

Sam grabbed a narrow shopping cart designed for the tight spaces in the building, which resembled more of a small warehouse the further back one ventured.

Taking in the sight of so many creative possibilities left a hint of an overwhelmed shadow over Hael's eyes. "Um..."

"Painting, right?" offered Sam's gentle nudging toward the aisles.

"Y-yeah. Painting," she replied. Clarity came to her a bit more as they moved toward canvas, chemicals, pigments, and a myriad of other things appealing to creative energies. "The festival organizers said artist tables get more attention if they have a theme. I know I want to paint. Oil pigments are more forgiving than watercolors or acrylics. Just what I should paint, though, is still in question."

"What about scenery here?" Sam suggested.

"Here?" she replied.

"Yeah." He nodded. "South Dakota. I like your nature stuff."

"Landscapes," she corrected.

Sam smirked and repeated, "Landscapes."

Hael eyed racks upon racks of stacked oil pigments, clearly uninterested in discussing her process further. She drifted away from Evelyn's stroller, which Castiel manned right away--pushing James with one hand and Evelyn with the other. While the little girl napped, James observed his father and occasionally giggled. He seemed amused and interacted with those around him a little bit more every day.

Breaking his stoic reserve, Castiel couldn't contain his own smile. "What's so funny? Daddy pushing two of you?"

Right there in the oil painting aisle, James smiled again, but as his nose wrinkled in an unpracticed giggle, freckles sprouted over his cheeks. Castiel stopped, wondering if he really saw that, but there they were dotting fresh baby skin that hadn't been marked before.

Sam squinted into the stroller. "Did he just--"

"--Freckles--"

"--Yeah."

The alert tones grabbed Hael's attention as she compared natural hair and synthetic hair brushes. "What happened?" She too peered over the stroller.

"Freckles appeared on his cheeks," Castiel explained discreetly. "He's taking after Dean again."

"He's starting to look like Harry Potter with the green eyes, black hair, and now freckles. You'd think it'd make him look mismatched but--"

"--He's a lovely blend of his parents," interjected Hael.

Castiel sensed something longing in her voice, though she concealed it in a monotone as all angels did. He glanced down at his child again as the other two resumed shopping and a different sort of unsettled sensation fell over him. James imprinted Dean not once but twice, indicating to him at least that he loved his other father more. That was a ridiculous thought rooted in a very human flaw of jealousy--he knew it--but it still appeared like a cloud in him. Doubts of whether he was a good father plagued him from time to time, though he didn't want to admit it.

"The pool in the creek might make for a nice subject," Castiel urged, distracting himself with a new subject.

The young artist glanced at him over her shoulder, sunglasses perched over her head, and he sensed that she wondered if he meant something else by it. That spot by the creek had been where she made her murder confession. He didn't mean anything by it and silently let her know in the way his wings drooped just slightly.

Defenses in Hael fell away. "I enjoy that place too. Perhaps you're right."

The cart filled with supplies she needed for a series of paintings to sell, hopefully, at the art festival. Tubes of earthy colors dotted the bottom of the shopping cart along with a jug of something called thinner and something else called thickener. It was indeed interesting how quickly Hael picked up the ins and outs of several different artistic mediums. Despite never knowing her free will before, all of the tools were already in her from the spark of her creation. The idea of free will in Heaven altered slightly in his mind and he wondered, without revealing his thoughts, if the seed had been planted in all of them all along. A bit of temptation to pull them away from God's control.

"What's up, Cas?" Sam's voice cut through his unsettling thoughts.

"Nothing in particular," he attempted the lie.

Interrupting, Hael stood on her tiptoes and pointed to the top of the highest industrial shelf. "Sam? I need that big canvas."

"Which one?" Thankfully, Sam left it alone and jumped to her aid.

"The long one," she said, pointing to a piece of canvas nearly as tall as her if she stood it on its end.

It astonished Castiel, in the end, how much Hael shoved into the shopping cart for her monumental projects. He knew the fair, ginger-haired angel was going to do well at the festival if her confidence didn't falter in the meantime.

The three of them maneuvered through the store toward the line of cash registers like a caravan of babies and art supplies. Just as the store clerk came into view for James, he shifted instantaneously from a contented baby exploring a plastic ring of toy keys to an infant frozen by the untested rawness of fear. His green eyes took in every inch of that clerk--a wormy looking man with black framed glasses--and the suspended moment broke with wickedly loud squalling. His face went red a blotchy as tears squirted over his new freckles.

"Woah, what's wrong?" Sam's brow furrowed as he unloaded items onto the conveyor belt.

"I don't know," Castiel lied. He knew, eyeing the clerk who eyed him back.

Hael seemed to have an idea as her scrutinizing gaze darted between the clerk scanning her purchases and the wailing fledgling. She pulled Evelyn's stroller through the register aisle, as far from the clerk as she could get. By then, Sam knew something was very wrong but he followed Castiel's lead.

James blink and it acted as a light switch, igniting white-blue grace in his eyes. Both Castiel and Sam lunged for the fledgling before anyone noticed the unnatural glow. His furious tiny hands grabbed onto Castiel in a death grip as his wriggling body nearly climbed up his shoulder. Hael took over the purchase of her supplies as Sam threw a blanket over James screeching in Castiel's arms. The younger Winchester met glances with him, silently asking what the hell happened.

"I-I think he's teething," came the first excuse Castiel could think of even though James was far too young for that. "I'll just take him outside."

Before anyone could stop him, Castiel left the stroller with Sam and Hael and hurried outside. Fresh air hit him like a wall. He found a quiet spot under a tree where he could still see the doors but keep James away from humans for a moment.

"Shh, it's okay," he soothed, lightly bouncing the baby. "You're safe. I've got you. Shh."

The truth was Castiel forgot how awful it was to encounter dark human souls without being used to them. While his son smiled and giggled at the brightness of Dean's soul, the blackness that came with humans willfully hurting other humans felt rather painful for angels. James cried rather miserably and burrowed against the side of Castiel's neck. The baby angel wouldn't unclench his fists tightly grabbing fistfuls of his father's shirt.

"People hurt each other sometimes," explained Castiel quietly as he paced, rocking his unhappy baby. "That one was hurt as a child and now he hurts other children. It makes his soul muddy. We used to help people like him but now things are different. Our kind stopped caring about individual humans somewhere along the way. I hope your generation changes things." As James relaxed just enough to shift him into the crook of Castiel's arm, he wondered if his boy understood what he said. "I know that first encounter with a dark soul was frightening for you, but never forget that Dean and I will protect you. Never forget you were created with a divine spark either. You're our child and you're an individual with the power to help wherever you feel needed as you grow. I hope you know how important you are to us."

*****

James never fully calmed his fussing until Dean came home that night and the three of them crawled into bed together. The hunter leaned on his folded elbow, patting the fledgling's bottom in the light, constant rhythm that always put him to sleep there between his fathers. With his round little rump poked in the air, James' legs tucked beneath his tummy and his tiny hands folded under his chest. He frequently slept that way--balled up so small on his tummy with this pearlescent wings draped over the width of his racecar pillow.

"You're sure it wasn't something I need to gank that he saw?" asked Dean again.

"No, nothing like that." As he spoke, Castiel smashed and shifted a nest of pillows nested beneath him and rolled up on his elbow for better light on his book. "It was just a human soul."

"But it scared the crap out of him," Dean argued.

"Only because he's unaccustomed to the darkness a human soul can carry within. He's only seen yours, which is ... different." He flipped the page, perfectly able to read and carry on a conversation at the same time. "He'll get used to it. Then it won't scare him anymore. It's to be expected, really. I was terrified of dark souls at that age and soon I grew accustomed to it too."

Thoughtfully, Dean stroked his new beard. "Hard to imagine you this little."

Castiel smirked at the novel gripped in one hand. "I believe I was what you humans call a late bloomer. The other fledglings in my nest always developed new skills before I did, so it's interesting that my son appears to be quite the opposite."

"Well," Dean said, leaning over their sleeping fledgling to kiss him, "late bloomer or not, you're a better angel than the rest of them."

"You're biased," he pointed out.

A lopsided smile intensified the lines and freckles adding character to Dean's face as he leaned back against the headboard, one hand always on the baby. He fell into contemplative silence for a time, allowing Castiel to fall deeper into the atmosphere of his book. Something swirled around the hunter's thoughts and held his attention since he didn't turn on the television or even reach for a book of his own.

Finally, he began to speak. "What does a soul look like anyway?"

"They're all different," replied Castiel.

"Okay, what does mine look like?"

That question required proper attention. Castiel abandoned his book on the nightstand and sat upright, looking squarely down on the other man in bed with him. A rare moment of language difficulty overcame him. True, he could speak every language in the world but he wasn't quite fluent in any of them. For the first time in many months, his instinct made him want to reach for the poetic nature of Enochian. Sometimes English was entirely too utilitarian and lacked beauty, but Dean couldn't speak more than a handful of words in his native tongue.

"The main bulk of your soul is a ball of white light in your chest," he attempted to explain. "It's your core being--a beacon to things like me. It's brighter than human eyes can tolerate seeing without stinging discomfort. The power is comparable to a nuclear reactor." He paused, really taking in the image right there in bed and trying to find the correct words for it. "There's a haze around it. Like the atmosphere around a planet or the gas around a star. Your emotions flare up in different colors there. I know what you're feeling in the shades of light and how opaque or transparent they appear. Luminescent is the best word to describe your emotional flares, I suppose."

Dean took it all in but he probably never could imagine the reality of it no matter how many adjectives Castiel plucked out of his brain. "And James sees all that?"

"Now he does, yes," he replied. "The others will likely develop the same skill within days as well."

A humming sound of contemplation rolled around in Dean's throat. He glanced down at his chest as if he could will himself to see his own soul, but of course, he couldn't. Questions tumbled around his mind but part of him wanted to keep some of it mysterious. Castiel saw that clearly.

"Why's mine different?" Dean asked after a moment.

"It's brighter," Castiel said, choosing his words carefully. "Bright enough that I'm meant to find you easily no matter where I am in the universe. Bright enough that you led me straight to you in Hell. It's also hotter. Your body temperature runs a little higher than 98.6 because of the heat radiating from your soul."

"Okay," came a slightly overwhelmed acknowledgement. "And darker souls are dark because...?"

"They're literally black. Humans who repeatedly make bad choices and intentionally hurt fellow humans lose the warmth and luminescence by phases through grays, browns like mud, and finally, black. The worst one I encountered was like looking at cold, black sludge."

'Who was that?"

"Adolf Hitler."

"...Oh."

"You see why James cried," said Castiel with a tilted nod.

And Dean nodded too, still overwhelmed. "Yeah. I'd probably scream and cry too ... I mean, I guess."

"He'll be okay," Castiel promised.

Chapter Text

Somehow Castiel got roped into looking after Noah and Evelyn in addition to his own James--all without help. Hael had to prepare for the art festival and Demiel went on a learning expedition with Bobby to the supermarket and visiting Jody Mills. As long as some wealthy film director needed a mansion built on his new fashionable South Dakota ranch, Dean would be working six days a week as long as daylight lasted. The money was excellent but Castiel felt the absence as much as Dean felt the aches and pains of hard labor in his mid-30s.

Like an assembly line, Castiel changed three diapers and fed three bottles. He'd commanded armies but only three little fussy fledglings could stretch his endurance that much. Not required to sleep--no--but the three little ones wore him out before noon.

"Okay, nobody mess your diapers for at least an hour," Castiel told the squirming trio on the living room floor. "Trust me--you're going to like it much better when you no longer have to urinate frequently."

Keeping them busy seemed to quell fussiness, he discovered quite by accident. Noah seemed the easiest to please. Five minutes in the baby swing by the sliding glass door put him to sleep without a problem. The quick brightness of Evelyn's mind made her highly interested in James' new Rainforest Friends Musical Gym. She lay on a colorful mat with bright, entertaining rainforest animals dangling across an arch overhead. Sometimes Castiel wondered if Dean bought toys that he liked since most of them seemed to involve the monkeys he favored. Regardless, Evelyn carefully explored the animals and tested the music and lights.

Thankfully, James didn't seem too possessive over his toys yet. Their personalities were only beginning to develop. Where Noah seemed laid back and independent, James preferred a great deal of affection, while Evelyn needed her mind constantly stimulated.

"Perhaps there's a zoo somewhere nearby for when you're older," he told the children, not that they could talk back.

Castiel sat crosslegged on the floor near Evelyn with James propped up in his lap. His boy gummed down his thumb and drooled over the scarred hand that had killed dozens of angels, demons, and monsters with the Winchesters. Life certainly had a way of pulling Castiel toward the things he never once considered for himself.

The soft sentimentality that he allowed himself to feel for their nest broke with a whiff of something rotten and foul. His nose wrinkled, disgusted.

"Oh no," he muttered in that deep, raspy way. "Which one of you pooped?"

*****

By the time Demiel and Hael reclaimed their fledglings, Castiel considered himself an expert in raising flocks of young angels. Messy diapers, spit-up, two changes of clothes each, and even a crying dispute over a wing accidentally slapping an eye quickly schooled him in all things baby.

"Really? You had three of 'em by yourself?" Dean asked from halfway in the refrigerator in search of after-work beer.

"I did," admitted Castiel, sprawled on his back over the couch. "I don't think I've ever felt tired before but they're not just sleeping, eating, and making dirty diapers anymore. They crave much more interaction and toys now." He paused, eyes turned up to the ceiling. "I'm rather attached to these fledglings but I'm certain I would be fast asleep right now if I was human. I'm almost sorry I don't require sleep."

"You don't require beer either but you earned it." Dean handed him a cold glass bottle in passing and lifted his legs, sitting down with knees draped over his lap. "You ever try sleeping? Just to, y'know, recharge your batteries or whatever?"

"I don't think I could sleep if I tried," replied Castiel. He leaned up enough to jam a couch pillow behind his shoulders and swallow a mouthful from the bottle.

"We'll switch crib night to tonight," Dean decided. "Squirt should be wiped out from playing with the other kids. Won't be hard to get him down."

Castiel's head rolled to the side and he watched James swiping unsteady hands at the animals dangling from his rainforest gym. His legs kicked in and out like little pistons. Soon he figured out that his wings stretched beyond his arms' reach and a pleased squeak passed his lips as his wings knocked the animals back and forth.

"Kid's a genius," mumbled Dean through a smirk.

"It's important that he strengthens his wing muscles," Castiel added.

A deep, weary sigh rolled through Dean's body as he rubbed the length of Castiel's thigh. "Want me to put him down?"

"Give him a few more minutes," the angel said. "He's enjoying himself."

Dean abandoned his beer on the end table and twisted around, his body dropping across Castiel's chest with his profile pressed against the angel's stubbly cheek. Instinct begged no question of the weight on his body as his lazy, limp fingers trailed up and down Dean's spine. He felt Dean let go of the accumulated tension in his limbs, falling heavier around his body. Legs scissored between each other and nothing ever felt so natural in his long and storied existence.

"Don't fall asleep yet," he whispered, stroking Dean's hair.

"Mhhmmm," came a muffled, unintelligible response.

They lingered there tangled up on the couch with Dean hovering somewhere between consciousness and dreams, and their child content with music and animals on the floor. Time passed in a pleasant haze until knocking on the front door ripped them out of their own private universe.

"I got it," Dean mumbled, his voice thick and sleepy.

Nodding, Castiel scooped James off the floor as soon as Dean's weight left him. He left the unexpected visitor to Dean, taking their child to his rarely used nursery for a night in his crib.

"Now listen," he said to James, naked on the changing table. "You're going to sleep through the night. Your father needs his rest and I need ... grown up time with him since I took care of you all day. It doesn't mean I love you any less but sometimes daddies need to be with daddies. Or mommies. Or mommies and daddies." Castiel popped open the box of baby wipes like a one-handed pro and cleansed the baby. "When I put you in your crib, you're going to listen to your baby music and go right to sleep. Understand?"

James swiped at the bottle of powder. Grabby hands seemed more common by the day. His little one wanted to explore his world rather than listen to the plan for the night.

Cartoon monkeys dotted James’ onesie pajamas. Sometimes Castiel thought back to the dinosaur pajamas as if he actually missed a simple article of clothing. His fledgling came to him tiny and sleepy like a doll, but now, he seemed more like a little person in his own right. The rolling pacifier steadily slowed in James’ mouth as drowsiness overcame him. Castiel rocked him in the chair beneath the window and enjoyed the quiet moment.

"Cas?" Dean poked his head into the nursery with strain etched across his forehead. "Uh, you gotta come out here. There’s … You just gotta come."

Carefully, Castiel rose and crossed the room to put the fledgling down in his crib. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

Nothing in the universe could have prepared Castiel for what awaited him in the living room as he followed Dean. The man leaned against the frame of the sliding glass door with arms crossed over his chest. His gaze shifted from the view of the apartment complex gardens to Castiel’s face. A sly smile slithered over his lips.

"Hi, Castiel!"

Stunned, he squinted and briefly considered that he might have hallucinated it. But Dean hissing at the man to keep quiet with sleeping fledglings in the apartment made it all too real.

"Gabriel…?" His voice came out hoarser than he intended.

"I know. I look pretty good for a corpse, don’t I?" Gabriel pushed off the wall and came closer. A bounce in his step suggested honest joy in being alive. "Looks like you snagged yourself the bowlegged rebel without a clue after all, huh? A whole lot of angels owe me a ton of money now!" He chuckled at his own joke and then abruptly shifted tracks. "So where have you stashed the little guy?"

Castiel had no intention of letting anyone outside of the nest near his son just yet. “How are you alive at all? You were killed before the apocalypse was decided.”

"Dad, I guess. Who else has the juice and the cajones to do that?" Gabriel’s utter stone cold serious eyes indicated that he spoke the truth. "You riled everybody up again upstairs and your superiors are in a tizzy trying to maintain order. They’ve turned into winged social services taking away fledglings from the ones they think are flight risks. Suits are scared shitless that angels might actually start loving the fledglings they’re supposed to train as war machines." Sarcasm and deep, dark wounds dripped from Gabriel’s words as his amber eyes narrowed in silent communication. "I think God brought me back because I raised you. I guess the old man thinks I can restore order."

"You’re joking," Dean blurted. "This is too fucking weird. Is he really like your, what, adopted dad or something?"

"You know he raised me. I told you," replied Castiel. His eyes softened toward Dean as they always did.

"Yeah, but I thought once you matured or whatever, you just went off on your own."

Gabriel’s amused chuckle interrupted their conversation. “Oh, Dean, I missed your quick brain,” he laughed. “Why do you think Castiel is the way he is? I raised him this way! Don’t you think my running away and hiding out from angel wars had everything to do with free will? Your boyfriend's jonesing for love and freedom because I taught him when he was this big.” Gabriel’s hands measured out a length similar to James’ size. “I was the original free love dad. But all the stuff I taught him got erased over and over again whenever he disobeyed and got reprogrammed by his superiors. It got old and I got sick of it. So I took off.” He shrugged. “But you—you brought it back in him and I you were a game changer. He stole that fledgling because I raised him like a son. He was my little kid. Got it?”

Dean’s voice dropped to a predatory growl. “If you were any kind of so-called father, you wouldn’t have let those dicks keep giving him lobotomies.”

"I'm right here," Castiel attempted to say but they ignored him.

"You’re forgetting one thing, Dean." Voice dropping in equal measure, Gabriel stood his ground despite being much shorter and thinner in that vessel. "Before Castiel began disobedience in broad daylight for you and your gigantor brother, nobody risked it besides Lucifer. Look where it got him. You don’t have the slightest conception of the angel’s world, so don’t even try." A defensive hand flipped at Castiel. "I did the best I could for him as a fledgling. I saw him as a son and it nearly got him taken from me. He was mine. He was my child but I couldn’t do anything to stop them."

It escalated and Castiel slipped his hand into Dean’s fingers, his eyes carefully fixed on the archangel. “Gabriel—”

"—But I’m here now." The words came out much softer, yet defined like making a declaration. He met eyes with Castiel and released a calming breath. "They think I’m here to restore order. Obviously they don’t know the trickster very well."

Chapter Text

"I don’t like it," hissed Dean barely within the confines of a whisper.

Castiel shut the bedroom door, whispering back as if an archangel couldn’t hear everything they said. “You never like anything when it comes to leaving me alone to protect James—which there isn’t any danger here.” He rounded the bed frame and stood toe-to-toe with Dean. “You forget, Dean, I’m millions of years old and I could level South Dakota with a snap of my finger. We don’t need round the clock protection. What we do need is money and we agreed you’d be the one to keep a job for now. Go to work.”

"He’s an archangel,” Dean shot back in his restrained whispering growl. “You can't stop him if he goes squirrelly on us.”

"And you can?" Forehead lifted high in skeptical sarcasm, Castiel tilted his head and let the point sink in for Dean. "Truth is if Gabriel’s here to do harm, none of us can stop him. I don’t think he is though."

"How do you know that?"

A sharp exhale forced through Castiel’s vessel. “Dean, would you hurt James even if God commanded it?”

"Fuck no," he spat.

"Okay then," the angel replied in a softer tone. "Gabriel raised me. He wouldn’t hurt me—aside from sending me away in the apocalypse but he never intended to really hurt me. You forget how disobedient he is, following his own conscience where Heaven’s superiors are concerned. They would never send such a reckless angel to restore order. I know they’re not that creative. Even if they tried, archangels aren't bound to obey like we are. They only answer to God.”

Part of Dean let go of his resistance. His eyes fell as his arms hung in a loose grip around Castiel’s shoulders and rested his forehead on the angel’s, gathering his strength.

"It’s my job to protect my family," he murmured.

"I know you’ve been taught that since you were a child but it’s not just you in this anymore. I’m here too. James has two parents." To soften it, Castiel’s palms flattened over Dean’s arms, hooked over the muscular shapes, and rubbed up and down along their lines. "Going to work doesn’t mean avoiding the care of your child."

"How the hell did you get so rational?" Dean’s eyes opened and filled Castiel’s vision with worried dark green.

Honestly, Castiel didn’t know. His shoulders hunched in a light shrug of ambivalence. “You’ll be late if you don’t leave now.”

*****

In the end, the only way Castiel could get Dean to go to work was to cart everybody over to Bobby's house where Gabriel could be properly watched and they wouldn't be alone with him. He recognized a losing fight when he saw one, so he smiled, nodded, and kissed Dean goodbye. The logic behind it made little sense, though, because having Sam and Bobby keep an eye on an archangel was about as effective as a squirt gun putting out a skyscraper on fire. But if it made Dean feel better, he gladly packed Demiel, Gabriel, and the fledglings up for a day over at Bobby's place.

"Sam, Sam, Sam. Still just as tall as ever. Has your hair gotten more flowy?" Gabriel whistled at the younger Winchester descending the porch steps like he spotted a fire.

Immediately, Sam looked to Castiel for answers. "What the hell's going on here, Cas?"

"Gabriel's alive." He stated the obvious, of course, but he didn't have a clue of how to explain it. "Dean wouldn't go to work unless I brought as much of the nest as I could get over here. The others--you know--jobs."

The archangel wrinkled nose at Castiel. "You've got your nest working with people?"

"Some of them volunteered. We choose to raise our children to love humanity by example, living and working among them. It isn't beneath us as we've been taught." Leaving Gabriel no room to argue, Castiel cradled James close and trotted up the porch steps. He didn't yet know how he felt about the archangel who raised him suddenly reappearing as he raised his own.

Hael's thin figure observed from the front doorway and Castiel nodded to her as he clutched James close to his chest. Her eyes widened at Gabriel casually leaning against Castiel's big red boat of a car.

"Haven't seen you in a few centuries. How goes it, Hael?" Gabriel offered a thin smile, but it faded as soon as he got a closer look at her. "What's up with your--"

"--Let's go inside," barked Castiel, abruptly cutting off Gabriel before he pointed out her dwindling grace.

The second Castiel hit the threshold between the kitchen and the living room, Bobby stormed across the floor with a fighting look in his eye. He ignored the old man long enough to deposit James into the old baby swing left near the sofa for Hael's little girl.

"What the fuck!"

Well, Castiel couldn't say he expected any other reaction from Bobby but he had to defuse the situation before Gabriel smited everyone just for the fun of it.

"Hey, hey, Bobby Singer! That's right, the sassiest angel in the garrison is back. New and improved if you ask me." Gabriel strutted around the kitchen with such an exaggerated gait, poking his hips out from side to side. He resembled a model. "Whaddya think? Hardly a mark or a scar on this old vessel."

Stalking around the corner, always between James and the archangel, Sam stared him down. "Just how did this happen? And what the hell are you doing here?"

Suddenly, Gabriel's comedic pretense dropped away and his presence stilled there in the kitchen. Even his voice changed. "I woke up slumped over in a fountain at Chesterfield Mall in St. Louis. Mall cops thought I was a drunk. I thought I was hallucinating. I was dead. I've been dead for--what year is it now?"

"It's 2013," Castiel replied.

"Eh, not as long as I thought." Shrugging, Gabriel continued. "Angel radio's all aflutter about the runaway nest on Earth and then it all stops to announce that I'm alive. They sounded surprised. I really doubt those uptight suits had anything to do with it." As he spoke, Gabriel leaned against the kitchen table and shrugged. "So I went upstairs and they started spouting devotionals to dear old Dad because he must've resurrected me to drag your asses back home for punishment and reassigning your fledglings."

Sam shot a rather fearful eye behind him at Castiel, who only shrugged, uncertain as anyone else in the room.

"Really, big boy," snapped Gabriel, "you think I'm gonna steal your little family? Trust me--I would've done it by now if that was my plan. I just let those uptight suits think I'd play their game to find out where Cas had everybody stashed."

"Then what the hell is your plan?" Bobby growled.

"Untwist your panties, boys. I don't know why I got resurrected but my father knows me better than I know myself--same for all of you." His devotion to God still remained, even underneath all the pain of witnessing the wars between his siblings and the resulting abandonment. "If God resurrected me, then he knew I wouldn't hurt Cas here even if I was ordered."

Again, Sam and Bobby threw confused glances behind them at the silent angel guarding his fledgling in the swing.

"Do you need me to draw pictures? Cas is my kid same as that one's his kid. You know that. I hear it in your thoughts. Angels aren't barbarians, for crying out loud. You really think I'd harm a hair on his head after putting in centuries of parenting him? I knew what raising fledglings was before the others did. It sure as hell ain't raising little soldiers. It's having children." He paused, thinking it over with a tilted head. "I guess I'm like a grandfather now. Huh."

"He's on our side," Castiel said after a time. "And with an archangel backing us, we're infinitely safer now."

"God knew what I'd do," reiterated Gabriel, "which means God himself backs the choices Cas made for this nest."

The news settled on the room like a silent weight. Sam and Bobby still didn't trust him, but they never trusted anyone, and Hael and Demiel huddled together in awe. They hadn't seen an archangel in so long. Castiel likened it to peasants being allowed to look upon the faces of royalty. In fact, proper etiquette in Heaven required lesser angels to bow to the archangels. There weren't any left though. Only Gabriel standing there in Bobby's kitchen.

*****

One by one, the other angels in Castiel's nest arrived with their fledglings over the rest of the day. Tension still hung in the air but Bobby kept James closeby and Sam hovered around Hael so much that Castiel had to admire their tenacity. They still didn't get it. If Gabriel wanted to exact punishment for disobedience, none of them would even know what hit them. No mere human could stop it.

Bobby's house resembled a party by the time the sun went down and the other angels seemed happy to have an old familiar face around again. Fledglings played together and, not knowing how to host an angel family reunion, Sam barbecued.

"...So there I am with this little squirmy kid with wings, right, and he loves dinosaurs. Just loves watching them from home." Gabriel held a rather captive audience as he recounted stories of Castiel as a fledgling. "This was before humans came along, remember? But I figured, okay, my kid's really into these things, so I'm gonna pop down to Earth with him and let him have a closer look."

"We weren't allowed to visit Earth back then," corrected Demiel in her usual demure, do-gooder voice.

Dean slipped in through the front door and scrutinized the crowd. He approached Castiel silently, covered in plaster dust and spackle, and slid an arm around his waist. He kissed Castiel's cheekbone, whispering, "Everything okay here?"

"He's telling stories about me," Castiel whispered back, arms crossed.

Gabriel shrugged and offered Demiel a lopsided smile. "I sneaked out."

"Oh..." she replied, clearly shocked.

"Well, back then, God was working on human bodies--what they might look like and everything--gearing up for the monkey to evolve as they say. Some of the fledglings at that time got human vessels as prototypes and I figured out how to get Cas and me one each for the trip. So he was about this big--" Gabriel measured out the rough size of a two-year-old human with his hands, "--and he toddled along holding my hand. Very excited, you know. This was his big day to see a dinosaur up close."

"Dinosaurs, Cas?" whispered Dean skeptically.

Castiel scowled. He knew what was coming next.

"So did he see one?" asked Hael, quite interested.

"Yep." Nodding, the archangel smiled laughingly and sought out eye contact with Castiel at the back of the room. "I found him a triceratops and he stared for a minute. Then his eyes grew massive, he screamed, and then he cried. Scared the hell out of him."

"They didn't look that big in Heaven," Castiel mumbled.

He didn't know about having the angel who raised him around so much. There were a lot of stories like that just ripe for the picking.

Chapter Text

It was just weird and Castiel wasn't prone to calling anything weird. He helped Demiel wash up the kitchen after another one of her baking experiments, and in the living room, he listened to Dean and Gabriel talking in hushed tones. Heavy sweetness hung in the air as a spice cake rose in the oven.

"Exercising wings are really important at this age," Gabriel told a skeptical Dean as he demonstrated with James on the floor. "The little bug's gonna be trying to fly in a few months. Building muscle's more important here on Earth than in Heaven. So if you pull a wing this way, he's gonna pull back. See? Get him to work his muscles."

"How come Cas didn't tell me this?" replied Dean, always on guard.

"I doubt he remembers. We're talking millions of years ago, and nobody remembers being babies whether they're winged or hairless apes," explained Gabriel, his tone suggesting a teasing smirk.

"I can't believe your guardian was an archangel," Demiel whispered to him there in the kitchen.

Castiel shrugged, feeling rather overshadowed. It almost seemed as if the others in his nest looked at Gabriel like the awe-inspiring archangel and then looked at Castiel, just a seraph, and wondered why he didn't become an archangel too. He never did step out of his guardian's skyscraper of a shadow as a young seraph. Then Gabriel suddenly disappeared without even a goodbye. When he resurfaced again, he'd turned his back on being God's messenger--one of the most powerful archangels--and by then, Castiel found his free will nearly alone among his own kind. Dean and Sam, along with Bobby, became his family.

Yet as he leaned against the doorway looking into the living room, he remembered growing up with that archangel overseeing his every development. Other guardians were obsessed with training their fledglings to kill, but Gabriel was different. He cuddled baby Castiel the way Castiel cuddled his own baby James. He let Castiel experience life, even if dinosaurs scared him, and he let his fledgling learn on his own time. Laughter. There was a lot of laughter. Storytelling, too.

Castiel became who he was because Gabriel raised him with seeds of freedom and affection planted in his grace.

And now, watching the archangel crosslegged on the floor with his own son tugged at something unknown in his stomach. Something nostalgic. It took having James to recognize the value in being raised differently even though he never quite fit in with the other angels.

Castiel joined Dean, seated on the couch, and Demiel sprawled in an armchair by the sliding glass door once she finished cleaning up the kitchen. As laid back and calm as ever, Noah dozed in the baby swing, while James held court with the first and only archangel he'd ever know. Gabriel's hands clamped around the fledgling's ribs and held him upright with rather intent eye contact.

"You okay?" Dean asked Castiel quietly.

"Yes," he replied just as quietly, saving his thoughts for a more private moment between them.

"Have you sensed what purpose James was created for yet?" asked Gabriel with a quick glance up from the baby's happy, freckled face.

"No," Castiel replied.

"We're gonna let him be what he wants to be," added Dean.

"Good call." The archangel nodded as he continued studying the fledgling in his hands. "I tried that too. Didn't work so well. Things are different now though. These little bugs have a shot."

Castiel found himself offering a simple assurance. "I am where I want to be. I found my own way."

The briefest flash of guilt ignited Gabriel's eyes and they both silently acknowledged the abandonment even though Castiel had matured by the time he disappeared. Still, it caused him anguish in a time when angels were forbidden upon pain of death from acknowledging any sort of emotion at all. Dean's eyes darted between the two as if he sensed something happening but he didn't quite know how to ask about it.

"He's a confessor," Gabriel said after a moment. "A seraph, like you."

"A confessor?" Dean's eyes narrowed at the new term.

"Oh, those are rare," chimed in Demiel.

"You humans scurry to priests and ministers whenever you need to purge yourself of sins. Angels have something like those too and they're called confessors." Sitting James on his thigh, he rubbed his little tummy and spoke in a baby tone. "I bet you're a sensitive little bug, huh?"

Eyes wide, it appeared the news stunned Dean. "My son's a priest?"

"Not exactly," said Castiel. "It's probably more like a counselor or psychiatrist in your perception. He doesn't have to do this though."

"It'll be his instinct unless you really teach him to think for himself," the archangel cautioned as if he spoke from experience. "Cas didn't want to be a soldier but his instinct kept yanking him toward the purpose they gave him. The only reason I wasn't punished for letting him be what he wanted was because they had no authority over me. Only God did. You don't mess with cojones this big unless you wanna get zapped up the ass with a lightning bolt."

Castiel's mouth lifted in a half-smile despite still trying to resent the abandonment, and at his side, he felt Dean's low chuckle as his body loosened a bit as well.

"If God didn't punish you either," theorized Demiel, leaning forward with interest, "then he must have approved of the way you raised Cas."

Nodding, Gabriel said, "I think so."

"Wow...."

"Cas was always different. I'd go so far as to guess God intended for him to rebel and shake things up since most of the other angels turned into bitchy, self-righteous dicks a long time ago," mumbled the archangel, looking down at James gumming his way across his finger. "Dump him on a guy like me and of course he's gonna rebel. It's not rocket science. I never had a kid before or after him either."

"What are we gonna do about the suits upstairs thinking they can break up the nest and take the kids?" It was only a matter of time before Dean got to the crux of the problem.

A tense sigh passed through Gabriel. "We should get everybody together as soon as we can." He glanced toward the kitchen as the oven buzzed. "Oh hell yes. Is the cake done?"

*****

Finally, thank the universe, the fledglings went to sleep, Gabriel skipped off to see some lady friend he'd left behind, and Demiel hid in her room with a pile of Jane Austen movies. Castiel's limbs haphazardly flung over the couch in the dark, silent living room and he relished in silence. Sometimes he remembered the freedom of flying off wherever he chose with the speed of thought. If he longed for that freedom again, he remembered fluffy white wings and innocent green eyes, and it didn't seem so appealing anymore.

The other reason he stayed attracted his attention from the bathroom. Muffled sounds of splashing bled through the door--nothing rough or playful, but gentle and cautious as if he moved around the tub in discomfort. Dean's body fought him at every turn in his job. He found it much more physically demanding than being a hunter, yet he never complained.

Castiel peeled himself off the couch and padded across the kitchen linoleum, barefoot, and swung open the laundry closet. He plucked fresh towels out of the dryer and slung them over his arm, on his way to the bathroom.

"Hello, Dean," he greeted quietly as he slipped through the door. "I brought you clean towels."

"Thanks, babe." Gingerly, wincing slightly, Dean leaned back against the rim of the tub and closed his eyes. A long, soothing breath exhaled as he attempted to relax. "I'm getting too old for this shit."

"You're not old," countered the angel. "You've simply been working too hard your entire life and your body's starting to feel it."

Steam rose from the bath's surface as Castiel hung towels on the rack. Dean always liked his baths and showers oppressively hot until his skin turned bright pink. He found it relaxing--one of the few things he actually did to try and take care of himself for once.

Kneeling at the tub, Castiel bent over Dean and combed fingers through his wet hair. When Dean didn't move, he knew the poor man was exhausted and working himself into the ground. So Castiel grabbed a sponge from the shower shelf and squeezed hot bath water over Dean's chest without pestering him for conversation. He'd hoped to have a minute alone to unburden himself but Dean clearly wasn't in any condition for heavy emotional talk. So he stowed it away.

"I want you to take a day off tomorrow and rest," he said after an interval of silence.

"It's not that bad," Dean mumbled.

Tilting his head, Castiel gave him the most skeptical eye. "Dean, we're alone and you're nude. You haven't even kissed me. Any other night and you would have persisted until both of us ended up in the bathtub. I know you're not feeling well." He caressed Dean's cheekbone under his thumb. "Call in sick tomorrow. James misses you. I miss you."

"If you need me at home...." he conceded as if he couldn't fathom taking a day off for himself but only for others in his family.

Selfishly, he hoped to have Dean to himself before gathering everyone in the nest to strategize later the next evening. Life was getting too crowded and Castiel stifled under the claustrophobia more than he wanted in spite of his responsibilities to the nest.

Castiel kissed him again, on the lips that time. "Come to bed," he urged. "I'll read Keats to you until you go to sleep."

A sleepy smile tugged at the corner of Dean's mouth. "I don't need a bedtime story. I'm thirty-five."

"Perhaps not but you should be reminded of how important you are to me. Humans do that, don't they? Romance. Maintaining love for each other and that sort of thing."

"Nicely played," Dean replied with a chuckle and an arched brow. "You reading chick magazines again?"

The hunter climbed out of the tub and stood on the bathroom rug as naked as the day he was born. Castiel rose to his feet again as well, appreciating the view. Working in hard labor may have left him sore each night but occasional softness around his abdomen had hardened into etched muscle. Even his shoulders and thighs seemed larger and more solid if that was even possible given a man of his impressive size.

"Don't bother getting dressed," Castiel said darkly.

Keats could wait too.

Chapter Text

"So then, you crack the egg like this...." murmured Dean against Castiel's ear. "Not too hard. Don't wanna get shells in it." He stood behind the angel, pressed flush against his body, and guided Castiel's inexperienced hands. Together they cracked an egg into a popping frying pan.

A quiet apartment all morning revived both of them. Gabriel still hadn't fluttered back in from his rendezvous with a lady and Demiel remained engrossed in Regency historical movies in her room. Neither Castiel nor Dean bothered to get dressed beyond pajama pants after a long night of engrossment in each other. Lazy, slow lovemaking on and off until dawn reminded them not to go so long neglecting their own relationship again. James didn't even fuss in his crib until the sun rose as if he knew his daddies were being stretched too thin.

"Take the spatula like this but don't mess with it too much. Let the egg solidify a little more first." Though Dean delivered cooking instructions, his velvety low voice seduced each word. His free hand caressed the length of Castiel's naked arm from shoulder to elbow and back again.

As the edges of the fried egg bubbled, Dean bent and nibbled along the side of Castiel's throat. His beard came in a bit softer after the initial prickly, rough phase and it rubbed enticingly with each movement of his mouth. Castiel chuckled. It actually tickled. Sometimes the sensations his vessel produced under human contact still surprised him. Regardless of the delicious distraction, he attempted keeping focus on cooking his first breakfast.

"Hold onto your drawers because I'm back!" trumpeted Gabriel in a swoosh of feathers and magazines overturned off the coffee table.

"Hey!" Dean barked, whipping away from the intimate embrace.

"Woah," the archangel hooted, quite amused. "You guys really are a thing, huh? Y'know, I figured Dean went to bat for the occasional male when he almost jumped my Dr. Sexy bones."

"Don't remind me," he muttered with an eye roll.

Castiel slid the spatula under the cooked egg and transferred it to a plate, saying, "We don't have genders, Gabriel."

"Nah, but--" he began singing, "we fell in love in a hopeless place!"

On his way to the bedroom, presumably for clothes, Dean glared. "You sing that Rhianna bullshit in my house again and I'm gonna rip those balls off your vessel so you can't have these little overnight parties with skanky women anymore."

"Geez, Dean. Had no idea you were so anti-dance music," Gabriel chuckled. He smiled into the kitchen at Castiel and added, "Having a son-in-law is so much fun already."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," muttered Dean in the hallway.

Castiel smiled against his will. It couldn't hurt Dean to learn to laugh a little more often.

*****

Castiel paced a slow, soothing path between the living room and the kitchen, smiling softly down at James in his arm as the fledgling sucked on a bottle. Father and son stared intently into each other’s eyes, blue meeting green.

"You’re kidding, right?" Gabriel said, irritated, as he leaned on the sliding glass door frame.

Dean, tying his shoes, shook his head. “Nope. You wanna be with us, then you don’t fly. Not on our time. Don’t care what you do on your own time, but here, you obey the rules of the nest.”

"And why are we riding like snails in cars?"

Castiel glanced up from his fledgling’s meal and explained, “I want these children to understand humanity from experience. They can’t properly love those they were created to protect if they haven’t walked in their shoes. I don’t want these children becoming too reliant on their powers and developing the sort of detached egos that caused the downfall of our kind as we are now.”

The explanation silenced Gabriel for a long moment. He eyed Castiel as if he spoke some shocking news that he’d never before considered. His comedic bravado didn’t hold so solidly as it had before his resurrection. There were seeds of doubt in there but not the way Castiel wanted. The archangel doubted whether he’d been a good father to him at all. He doubted if he’d done enough to change the status quo for all other angels created since Castiel. Part of him regretted disappearing and abandoning his only child.

"It’s not so bad riding in a car," Castiel added, his encouragement coming out a little softer.

"Sure. Could be cool," replied Gabriel.

"We gotta go. The others are probably on their way too," Dean said, checking a duffle bag for diapers, honey, and formula.

Before Castiel knew it, a hurricane crash landed in the apartment and nearly knocked Dean backwards onto the couch again. He'd just stood up and, seeing it all in slow-motion, Castiel couldn't grab him with the baby in his arms.

The body fell at the opening of the hallway with a sickening thud. Immediately, Demiel's door at the end of the hall jerked open and everyone turned to the body at the same time. Hael lay motionless, her head bent against the wall, clutching her baby to her chest. A swoop of angels and Dean descended on her at once. Demiel collected the screaming baby as Dean rapidly tapped her face trying to bring her around again.

"That's a smiting burn," Gabriel announced in shock, pointing at the raw, boiled flesh on her chest.

"Son of a bitch," growled Dean. "Hael! Hael! C'mon, wake up!"

"Hael!" shouted Demiel with him.

"Amateurs. Move." Gabriel shoved his way past them and spread his palm over her burn without the slightest hesitation over touching scorched flesh. Intense white light emanated from his hand as he healed her wounds.

Sharply, Hael's body curled upward as she gasped and clawed for air. Eyes bugged out of her head as if she didn't immediately recognize where she'd gone.

"You okay? What happened? Where's Sammy and Bobby?" demanded Dean, always thinking to the next step.

Gasping and choking on tears, she pitched forward into her hands. "They--they--they ambushed!" Panic stifled her words. "Five--Execute me--Sam--Sam--"

"Sam what!"

"Dean," cautioned Castiel, reaching down to grip his shoulder.

"Damn it," spat Gabriel. "This is exactly what I was afraid of. We gotta get over there now."

"I can't fly! I can't fight!" Hael's rambling turned more hysterical.

All of them stopped dead in their tracks, but Dean most of all because he couldn't see the glaring truth about what happened to her the way the other angels saw it. Dean stared her down. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Hael snapped. She spun, facing him with burning, angry tears spilling from her eyes. "I'm human! They cut my power off weeks ago because I killed one of my superiors! This is what we were supposed to talk about today but they beat me to it! They expected the serpent to kill me for them, but since it didn't, they decided to come finish the execution themselves! And I grabbed my child and I used the last of my grace to get her here to safety! Now I'm a hairless ape just like you!" She sucked in a harsh breath and reeled on her feet, rubbing her forehead. "Please, give me Evelyn."

Stunned into silence, Demiel handed over the frightened and screaming baby angel.

"Stay here," Dean snarled. "Watch the kids. Don't do anything stupid. And if my brother is hurt because of you--"

"--All right, all right. Save the rage party for the real assholes, daddio," interrupted Gabriel as he tugged Dean and Demiel into the living room with Castiel trailing close behind them. "Are we all armed then?"

Heads nodded as Castiel quickly kissed James and slid his legs into their holes in the baby swing. "Pray for me if anyone tries to break in," he ordered Hael.

Three armed angels surrounded Dean, the only one who couldn't fly, and laid hands on him. Gabriel's wings swooped far wider than the other angels and lifted the lot of them together. In a gust of wind, the four of them departed, leaving a very fragile and very human Hael to keep watch over James, Evelyn, and Noah. Not even Castiel knew what they might find at Bobby's place.

*****

Landing in the yard of Singer Salvage, they stared dumbfounded at the destroyed landscape. Scorched earth and trees made the place look like the remains of a natural disaster. They fanned out, each moving toward the house with angel blades gripped at the ready.

It was too quiet. Far too quiet.

Dean gestured around back toward the basement entrance, silently taking over like a military operation. Fanning out even further afforded each of them a wider view of the property should another ambush await them the way it did Hael. The more Castiel took in the sight of scorched landscape and blown out kitchen and living room windows, the more his rage boiled. How his own kind could be so violent to one another, he'd never understand.

The outside basement doorknob hung lopsided, broken. Dean flipped his angel blade over his fingers as he approached and hurled his boot into the door. Splintering old wood rang out like a gunshot as the door flung open and tumbled in pieces down the blackened stairwell.

Castiel's senses narrowed, focused on seeking out signs of life.

Chapter Text

"Sammy! Bobby!"

Castiel’s pupils opened like a feline for clearer sight in the dark basement, just as Demiel and Gabriel tilted their heads up and scanned the house. Four presences remained on the property along with three dead vessels slumped on the floor--wings scorched into the concrete.

Around the stairwell in the back corner, the metallic clank of the panic room door hitting the wall broke the silent tension. Dean stepped over a body, angel blade still gripped in his fist, and followed the sounds. Sam’s shaggy dark hair poked out of the panic room first and then he motioned for Bobby to come out too. Other than a split lip and a gash across his temple, he appeared unharmed. But then Castiel noticed the way the younger brother gripped his forearm and understood that the bone was broken.

"Sammy." The older brother exhaled in relief but kept his blade ready. "The hell happened here?"

"Angels," he said. "There was no warning. They blew up the living room and the kitchen to stun us, I guess, and then they tried to kill us. One of them told Hael it was time to pay for her crimes. Where is she? Did she get out?"

"She’s safe," Castiel interjected before anyone gave away her location to prying ears. "But they’re still here."

"Yes, we are," a female voice said as her sensible high heels descended through the basement doorway. Her hair twisted in a tight knot at the back of her head and her tailored suit made her look like every other bureaucrat in Heaven. "Well, I see where you disappeared to, Gabriel. Good to see you again. Shall we talk outside? I do grow quite tired of dirty human dwellings. My associates are quite eager to meet the rest of this … nest."

"Sweetheart, you’re way too upright. You’ve really gotta get laid once in a while." With that, Gabriel flashed across the basement in a blink—quicker than other angels could move—and plunged his blade through her chest.

Castiel had no time to defuse the situation. Bursts of energy rushed past him as the bloody melee ensued, spilling outside. He followed Dean in pursuit of a stout little man in a black suit, who lured them out to a cluster of three other angels. The woman smiled as she leaped on Castiel and sliced his neck in her attempt to run him through with the blade. He flung her weight over his shoulder, throwing her to the ground.

"I have no desire to kill you, sister, but you're bringing harm to my family," he declared before making the kill.

Demiel caught his attention as she perched atop an air conditioning unit. Two angels in male vessels tossed Dean, Bobby, and Sam across the yard with a flick of their hands and then tried to do the same to her, yet no one anticipated her strength. She flicked her hand in return, which threw up a wall of energy that blocked their own efforts. It backfired on them in a burst of light that knocked them senseless for a moment, giving her the advantage. She sprang off the air conditioning unit, backflipping between the stunned angels. With sure hands, she grabbed them by the scruffs of their necks and slammed their foreheads together. Expert slices to each throat left them dead, winges burned into the ground.

Stunned, Castiel hardly believed what he saw. Demure little Demiel who was happiest baking in his kitchen had been a combat expert in Heaven, trained in an elite garrison rarely seen but highly revered.

"Dem--"

Another cluster of angels in black suits descended, interrupting Castiel with their cold, meticulous attack. They felt nothing and thought nothing except the objective--kill.

One caught Castiel with a rigid arm thrown across his chest, knocking him backwards onto the ground. As he fell, the world slowed to a crawl upon the sight of another throwing Dean against a metal shed like he weighed no more than a tree branch. The back of his head bounced off the wall like a grapefruit hurled into concrete. A sickening burst of blood splattered across the shed.

Both Dean and Castiel hit the ground simultaneously. He lunged at the unknown angel and hurled a blast of white hot grace, knocking him a solid thirty feet away. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Sam jam a blade into another angel’s throat despite having a broken arm.

"Dean!" Free of his own attacker, Castiel's body scrambled to Dean's side of its own accord in the same sort of panic if his own life faced danger. "Dean! Do you hear me?"

Unconscious, Dean felt like a dead weight as Castiel lifted his hand. Blood. So much blood.

"I underestimated you boys!" Gabriel shouted almost gleefully. "Shut your eyes!"

Bobby and Sam immediately dove for cover as Gabriel raised both hands, palms facing straight outward in a dramatic pose. Charged light rose from his feet, through his knees, along his waist, and just as it threatened to erupt from his hands, Castiel threw himself over Dean. The great love of his existence didn't move, utterly unconscious, and the blood seeping from the back of his head pointed out his fragility as a human in glaring detail. Still, he covered Dean’s face with his own body, shielding him from the burning light of an archangel’s grace.

Only an archangel had the power to kill all lesser angels within miles. The nuclear power of Gabriel’s light poured directly from his grace and the remaining bureaucrat angels screamed in agony as their vessels burned. Laughter caught somewhere between maniacal and giddy came over the entire display. Gabriel enjoyed himself. He missed being alive.

"Dean?" murmured Castiel once it was over. "Can you hear me?"

Nothing. The hunter simply looked peaceful the way he did when he slept. Castiel felt swollen tissue and fluids already tightening their death grip on his brain. He couldn't allow himself to think of the anguish and raw misery that awaited him if he had actually been mortal and had to watch Dean die right there. He thought of James. That sweet innocent fledgling would have lost his father that day if Castiel didn't have the ability to revive him. Seeing Dean so still and lifeless with thick blood flowing across the ground burned horrid tears in Castiel's eyes.

"Cas! What's going on? Dean!" Tension heightened Sam's voice several yards away, clutching his broken arm in pain. "Dean!"

"It’s going to be all right, love," Castiel whispered privately.

He drew Dean up into his lap there on the ground and hugged an arm around the back of his shoulders. Feeling the warmth of human blood drain onto his clothes, Castiel slid an open palm along Dean’s jaw to his cheek. He closed his eyes and vaguely heard Gabriel healing Bobby and Sam behind him. No matter. He tuned it out and focused the entirety of his grace on pouring life into Dean’s cells. Bones mended. Tissues reconnected. Blood clotted.

Finally, a spasm of breath and life jerked Dean’s body. His eyes shot open as did his mouth, seeking breath.

"Dean?" called Sam not far behind. "Say something! You okay?"

Coughing and griping the back of his head, Dean sputtered, "Son of a bitch.... My fucking head hurts...."

"It'll stop soon," whispered Castiel somewhere between relieved tears and clutching him close and kissing his forehead. Calming his overwrought nerves, he helped Dean sit upright again.

"Did we get 'em all?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Gabriel killed them after you were knocked out," Castiel replied.

A cocky smile accompanied the archangel as he sauntered across the yard and extended his hand to Dean. "Don't look so surprised, pretty boy," he said, pulling the hunter to his feet.

Chapter Text

Thick silence pregnant with tension enveloped the Singer house. While Hetanel and Timaniel labored to hang a tarp over the exploded hole where the living room window was, Dean broomed up broken glass and debris. He rubbed the back of his head and winced as he dumped the dust pan into the kitchen garbage.

"I can ease that headache," Castiel offered in a private tone.

"Nah, I'm cool. It's getting better," he replied, strangely unaffected by momentarily dying again. "Just wanna get back home to the rugrat." And there was his vulnerable spot. It wasn't that Dean appeared unaffected after all. Dying meant something completely different to him then and it left him haunted and silent as he maneuvered through Bobby's destroyed home trying to restore order.

Castiel drifted back into the living room, finding Mael sitting in an armchair and staring into pensive nothingness. The fledglings brought there with their parents all kept close to her. Three of them flanked her chair in car seats to keep them out of broken glass, including her own child, while her twin, Hael, guarded the other three fledglings in Dean and Castiel's apartment. The little ones sensed the passing burst of danger despite not witnessing the attack, it seemed, and kept mostly quiet as they sucked their binkies.

Leaning back against the fireplace mantle, Demiel folded her arms over her chest and ignored the way Sam studied her as he too leaned against the mantle. Combat energy coursed through her still.

"I had no idea you could fight like that," Sam said discreetly. "I don't think I've seen even Cas be that ... well ... leathal."

"Yeah, well," she replied with a light shrug, "I was a specialist in Heaven. A bit like what Navy SEALS are to humans, I suppose. But I don't have a lot to say, I'm crammed into a small vessel, and my appearance is deceiving to you. I know."

"You really think because you've got a female vessel, I don't think you can fight?" Sam seemed genuinely distressed by that idea.

Demiel drew in a slow, thoughtful breath but still wouldn't give him direct attention. "I think you don't know me," she decided somewhat diplomatically, but then her voice sharpened a bit. "You'd know me much better by now if you weren't so obsessed with someone who makes you feel strong and needed because she digs her own grave over and over again."

Even Castiel was taken aback as she left the fireplace mantle for the kitchen. Demiel's anger toward Sam struck him as awfully familiar but he couldn't put his finger on it. He continued pretending not to eavesdrop as he knelt, looking over the fledglings. Then it hit him. Quiet, demure Demiel directed defensive anger at her attachment to Sam, while he ignored her for months, awestruck by Hael instead. It took her cold, calculated, specialized combat training in action to get his attention and she seemed to resent Hael's uncanny ability to command attention without trying. Castiel glanced at Sam from the corner of his eye, not that he noticed. His elbow propped on the mantle, a hand scrubbed down his face and he struggled to understand.

"I think that should hold until Dean and I can buy lumber and a new window," Hetanel said, breaking the silence in the room.

"What are we going to do?" asked Mael over Castiel's shoulder.

As the leader, he spoke up and hoped he hid his reluctance. "The question now has to be whether we are going to excommunicate Hael from the nest because she's become a liability."

Sam cast a scrutinizing, critical eye on him.

"We must approach this rationally, not emotionally," he added toward no one specific. "Our nest is a holy place whether our superiors like it or not and they haven't attacked since we established ourselves in the apartment complex. The last few encounters with Heaven have been because of Hael's previous actions. As much as we may care for her, these things cannot be ignored."

"You're talkin' about puttin' a mother and a baby out on the street," Bobby grumbled in the doorway near the stairwell. "Where I come from, you just don't do that. You work shit out for the kid."

"Bobby has a point," agreed Mael through a tense sigh. "Excommunicating Hael, even if she is my twin, means Evelyn will suffer and that baby hasn't done anything wrong."

"And what Hael did to bring about attempted execution was done in self-defense to protect the fledgling in her charge." Hetanel always endeavored to keep the peace. "If we excommunicate her, we are essentially no better than the corruption and oppression in the system we're trying to leave behind."

"That may be, but Hael's actions have drawn Heaven's attention enough that even her fledgling was put in real danger today," argued Timaniel, a much less forgiving angel still somewhat stuck in the old ways. "Respect for this nest means full disclosure. She failed."

Nodding through cool features, Demiel added, "She's put my son in danger. She's put all of our daughters and sons in danger, including her own. The liability has to go. Now."

Castiel peered over his shoulder and considered suggesting that her judgment came from jealousy, but he decided against it, fearing the room would become more divided. He honestly felt Sam and Demiel couldn't have an unbiased say in deciding Hael's fate.

The stalemate broke as Gabriel swooped into the house with a six pack tucked under his arm and a bottle of whiskey in his hand. "I come bearing gifts of liquor and news," he announced as he passed the booze into Dean's hands. "I grabbed one of my friends upstairs for a little chat. Nope, can't tell you who. Informants gotta be protected. It's so deliciously back alley, isn't it?" He stuck a hand into the brown paper bag and fished around the six pack for a cupcake.

"What happened?" Castiel asked.

"The shit that went down today wasn't about Hael," he declared. "I mean, it was but it wasn't."

"Speak English," retorted Dean.

"They don't really give a rat's ass that she killed one of them on her way out. I mean, really, how many suits has Cas shish kabobbed? I committed identity theft on the god of mischief. Who cares, right?" Gabriel held up a finger like he prepared to drop shocking news on the room. "The plan upstairs is to pick all of you off one by one. Wait for one to drift from the herd, or the herd to turn on the one, and boom. Kill the angel, reclaim custody of and reassign the fledgling, and perpetuate the system. So all of you sitting here squabbling about excommunication are doing exactly what the big cheeses want."

Several of them muttered under their breaths. Dean swore outright. And without a word, Sam grabbed a lukewarm beer bottle from the bag and escaped out the back door.

"We're not excommunicating her," Castiel decided in an authoritative tone, "not because I condone her secretive behavior but because our superiors will continue manipulating us until our nest dissolves. We have to draw a line in the sand and stick together."

"I'm with Cas," said Dean as he popped open a bottle. "We give her the boot and those dicks are gonna keep finding reasons for us to turn on each other. Hell, we've all done shit we're not proud of."

"Hael stays then," agreed Castiel with a nod. "She'll have restrictions and conditions as part of her stay, such as finally joining the nest on our own territory."

"You mean moving in with me," assumed Mael.

"Yes."

She hesitated but agreed. "All right."

The others accepted the decision and didn't argue, very accustomed to obedience in the presence of a natural leader. Gabriel threw a fist in the air and hollered, "Down with the man!" which elicited scattered chuckles in spite of the somber mood.

Somewhere behind, the kitchen screen door slammed as Demiel escaped to the back yard as well.

*****

They found Hael asleep on the couch when they returned home that night--an unnerving sight for Castiel's immortality. She really was human. And when he described everything that happened, she acquiesced to the nest's decision without saying much at all. Demiel surprisingly walked her to Mael's apartment but Castiel knew she battled hard inside over the things no one even realized she felt for Sam.

It all grew into something confused and exhausting for Castiel. He struggled against his tendency to meddle wherever he saw inadequate communication and hurt feelings. Something else in him warned that the three of them had to work it out for themselves.

Such constant worrying over everyone else threatened to bring neglect into his own family though. Once Demiel came home and quietly shut herself in her bedroom to care for her fledgling, Castiel sought out Dean and James.

Moonlight filtered through the sliding glass door where he found Dean looking out over the complex while his body swayed and he fed James a bottle. Castiel halted momentarily and took in the state of his soul. Exaggerated, spiking colors strangled under a cooler blanket of light, suggesting that even though the day shook him up, he felt whole again there at home with the angel and the fledgling. James sucked down his bottle and Castiel noticed his calm green eyes following the movement of color in Dean's soul.

"I'm getting rusty on fighting," Dean said quietly without turning away from the glass door. "Those dicks got the better of me on a shot that I should have fought off."

"We still won the day," replied Castiel, picking up baby toys off the floor.

"No thanks to me."

The angel said nothing but instead wondered if Dean began resenting family life after all. He dropped the baby toys in a basket off to the side of the entertainment center and approached Dean from behind, hands stretching down those arms cradling their child. Dean closed his eyes and pressed his temple to Castiel's as lingering kisses dotted the side of his neck. A tense breath relaxed from him, added to James cooing and baby grunting around his bottle.

"Losing you for just a few minutes today very nearly killed me too," whispered Castiel, uncertain of even speaking about it. "I'm grateful for the power that allowed me to bring you back."

Dean didn't say anything. He didn't have to, really. They both knew the stakes were so much higher now that they had a family. "I'm stiff. Feeling my age, I guess," he admitted within the confines of holding James and having Castiel's arms around his shoulders and waist from behind.

The new preoccupation with age came up more frequently of late but Castiel let it pass without comment. "I think I can help with that," he said instead.

A smirk stretched to Dean's eyes and deepened his wrinkles. "Cas, I don't think I can tonight. I'm barely standing."

"Who said anything about amorous relations?" With his own smirk, Castiel reached around and pecked his cheek. "Put the baby to bed."

"Another night in the crib?" Dean wrinkled his nose, clearly unwilling to be separated from James two nights in one week. "I'll let him sleep in the Moses basket off the bed. That's the deal."

Whatever made him happy. Castiel quickly turned down their bed as Dean went through James' bedtime routine. He intended to give the hunter a much deserved respite that night and, hopefully, they would both forget the troubles surrounding their hodgepodge family for a while. As an afterthought, he tossed up do not disturb barriers around the room should Gabriel decide to pop in through his nocturnal wanderings.

There was a movie he'd seen not long ago. It popped into his mind. Yes, he decided to mimic the movie, though he didn't know why it was such an appealing thing to humans. From the kitchen's junk drawer, he found two thick, white candles left for blackout emergencies and planted them on dinner plates on each nightstand.

"Cas, what are you doing?" The faintest sound of amusement cushioned Dean's question as he came into the room. He'd gotten James to sleep without trouble after such a trying day and smirked at the candles as he put the Moses basket in a chair in the corner of the room.

"Human behavior doesn't change that much. I may not be one of you but I think I have a pretty good idea of what will ease your aches," replied Castiel as he patted the bed. "Lie on your stomach."

Dean arched an eyebrow. "Looks like a Danielle Steele novel in here."

Then it became Castiel's turn to lift his brow. "How would you know that?" he teased. "Do you have a secret habit of reading romance novels, Dean?"

"Shut up," Dean retorted through a self-conscious smirk.

The hunter stripped off his t-shirt and flopped across the middle of the bed with his arms flung in haphazard directions. Castiel grabbed a bottle from the nightstand drawer that indicated it doubled as a lubricant and a massage oil. He'd seen this done on television a few times but, of course, those people didn't have grace and superhuman abilities.

He started over Dean's shoulders, hands slick with oil, and kneaded the tension from his muscles. Dean never fully relaxed even when they tussled about in bed but Castiel did his best. Down bicep and tricep muscles, down a forearm, and back again, the angel silently carried out the work. Then he repeated the same kneading through tissues down the other arm as well. He leaned over enough to see Dean's eyes closed and many of the deeper wrinkles smoothed out again.

Low, grumbling groans vibrated Dean's body as the angel knelt over the backs of his thighs. "I'm definitely keeping you now," mumbled Dean through a drowsy haze.

"I should think so, Dean," he chuckled. "I'm just getting started."

"I can't move," the lump on the bed mumbled.

"I don't want you to move," Castiel assured. "Be still."

To Dean, he certainly felt the liquid relaxation flow through him as his muscles were kneaded thoroughly beneath Castiel's expert fingers, but Castiel stopped touching him. He conducted the work through his angelic mind, the rubbing following a path through his eyes. His palm flattened at the base of Dean's spine just above the waistline of his jeans. Closing his own eyes, energy built up from his grace and passed through his arm, his fingers, and infiltrated Dean's spine.

"How many hands do you have, Cas?"

"Shh. Be still."

Angelic grace focused along a bodily map in his mind. He looked into Dean's anatomy and found weakened vertebrae surrounded by strained muscle somewhere just below his shoulderblades. Healing relief flowed in liquid white light from the base of his spine up through the spinal column into the affected areas.

Of course, the more Dean worked in hard labor and fought monsters, the back problems would always return. At least Castiel was there to provide temporary cures.

Once the damage healed, Castiel let go and draped himself over Dean's back, resting cheek to cheek. His hands slid over the sheets and laced through fingers completely limp with relaxation. Warmth radiated from Dean's flesh as if he'd just stepped out of a hot shower.

"Do you feel better?" Castiel whispered.

"I feel tingly. What'd you do to me?" he replied.

A soft, satisfied smile came from deep within the angel. "I made you feel better." There was no point in upsetting him about damage to his spine if it wasn't life-threatening, after all.

"You always make me feel better," Dean said thoughtfully.

And Castiel mentally bathed in that sensation. Rarely did his love truly let down his guard and speak without crude jokes or a wall of bravado. So when he did, Castiel tucked it away in himself, keeping the moments there even millions of years from that night. He'd always remember.

Chapter Text

Everything about the nest fell quiet for a few weeks but Castiel didn't know whether to feel unnerved or relieved. So many deceptive lulls rolled in between violent storms. Too much quiet felt like a warning.

One by one, the fledglings turned four-months-old and their development kept the attention of their parents. They all learned to see human souls not long after James did, which made them want to interact with their parents more frequently. Baby laughter and smiles appeared intelligently as opposed to randomly, and nobody could get six fledglings giggling the way Gabriel did. He visited every couple of days but nobody asked where he went otherwise.

Part of the deceptive quietness descended on the nest because Hael all but stopped leaving her home with her twin. Sometimes Sam got her out, and she attended weekly gatherings with the others, but she only seemed to care about her paintings in her forced humanity. Castiel didn't know if she shut them out in bouts of resentment or if she simply wanted to concentrate on her art. Perhaps it didn't matter so long as Mael, her twin, reported that she still took good care of little Evelyn.

Demiel fell back into her routine of baking and looking after her son, never speaking an ill word toward Sam or Hael at all. She maintained her graceful integrity even though Castiel, paying much closer attention, sensed her distress at not understanding her confused emotions.

A Saturday afternoon, deceptively sunny yet cool with autumn air, brought Castiel to a bookstore with James. He made an effort when he could to get out and drive. If he expected his son to interact with humanity as he grew up, then he had to be willing to do the same. Still, he wondered if he'd ever grow accustomed to being behind the wheel.

"Dean? We're home! I brought cheeseburgers!" Castiel called out into the apartment as he pushed open the door while loaded down with bags and a car seat.

Demiel appeared first with baby Noah on her hip. "Let me help you," she offered, taking a bag off his arm. Lowering her voice, she leaned in closer. "I took food to Hael this morning. It should be enough to last her through the week."

"You didn't have to do that," replied Castiel. "I'll give you the money."

Demiel flipped a dismissive hand. "It's nothing. We must all watch over each other in our nest." She said it but her eyes conveyed something unsettled and sad.

"Is she still forgetting to eat?"

Nodding, she replied, "She's thin. I'm not entirely certain it's so much forgetting as it is despondency."

"Thank you. I'll speak to Mael about it. How is Noah's cough?" he asked as he put the car seat on the couch and unstrapped James.

"Oh, much better. I gave him the medicine that Dean suggested."

"That's right, I'm a regular baby whisperer," declared Dean, tugging a shirt over his head as he emerged from the bathroom. He combed a hand through wet, shaggy hair and smoothed down his freshly trimmed beard. "Geez, Cas, did you buy the whole friggin bookstore?"

"I went a little overboard," Castiel admitted with a sheepish grin. He ignored James gumming up his shoulder as he one-handedly fished out a specific book from a shopping bag. "There was a sale. All the children's books were rather inexpensive. Look at this one. Jungle animals." He knew Dean would like that. "And it's chewable. James can gnaw on it to his heart's content and it won't dissolve. I bought enough books to begin little libraries for all of the fledglings."

"They're a little young for books," Dean said as he examined the titles.

"A fledgling is never too young to absorb knowledge," replied Castiel. "I'll make bundles for each little one and hand them out at our next meeting."

*****

Human sports honestly bored Castiel but Dean enjoyed watching football games and Demiel enjoyed asking questions about every new thing she encountered. They chatted in the living room that night over the constant crowd noise emitting from the television. Castiel took the opportunity to sort through the children's books at the dining table.

Dean laughed. It drew Castiel's attention and, glancing over his shoulder, he watched the hunter snap pictures on his iPhone. James and Noah sat propped up against the couch cushions wearing colorful little football jerseys. Smiling at his father made James drop his binky. Before Dean snapped another photo, Demiel leaned over and smoothed out errant baby feathers along the grain of their wings. Poor Noah still suffered a lingering cough from his cold but he didn't seem the least bit bothered by it so long as Dean, Demiel, and television entertained him.

"Hey Cas, wanna take the kids out for pie after the game?" Dean asked.

"Yes, that sounds nice," he agreed as he tied a book bundle together.

The long rectangular shape of Castiel's cell phone vibrated against his thigh in his pocket. He maneuvered through the touch screen, seeing a new text from Sam asking him to come to a bar called O'Rourke's near the drugstore. Judging by the typos, he suspected Sam was intoxicated.

Immediately, he stood and grabbed his jacket. "Dean, your brother's asking me to meet him. I'm not going to bother with my car."

The older Winchester stretched to his full height. "Shouldn't I come?"

"He asked for me," Castiel replied gently.

"O-okay."

"We've become good friends, Dean. You know that."

"Yeah." Dean nodded, wondering why his brother didn't ask for him, it seemed.

"Is he all right?" asked Demiel, her voice growing softer with tension.

"He will be." Castiel shrugged into his jacket. "I'll bring him back here. He ... well, I don't think he's in any condition to drive back to Bobby's home. Take the fledglings out for your pie if I haven't returned by the time your sporting event concludes."

Before they could question him, Castiel spread his vast wings and flew off into the night. It felt amazingly free to soar over the southeastern corner of the state outside of the confines of a slow moving, loud, polluting vehicle. He simply didn't care if the suits in Heaven tracked his movements the moment he lifted off the ground. It hadn't mattered in quite a while. They knew where the nest was but they couldn't do anything about it. Perhaps a piece of Castiel flew out of rebellion.

He didn't know what kind of bar to expect when he landed, but even for the Winchesters on the road, it looked like a shack. Neon signs hung precariously from decaying window and door frames. Smoke billowed from inside as drunken people came and went from the parking lot.

Castiel followed Sam's disjointed thoughts into the bar. Even perched on a barstool and hunched over a beer bottle, he brought to mind the image of an immovable boulder in a stream bedded by pebbles. Covered in plaid and denim, he tipped his head back, finished a bottle, and signaled to the bartender that he wanted another.

"Sam," greeted Castiel with a hand on his shoulder.

Bloodshot, glassy eyes turned to him. "That was fast."

"I didn't drive," he replied cryptically in front of strangers. "Your message sounded urgent. Wait, Sam. Put down the bottle for a minute and talk to me." He grasped the new beer and put it on the bar for him, and then sat on the neighboring barstool.

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face and chuckled to himself, though Castiel couldn't discern what he found funny.

"You're intoxicated. Perhaps you should have some coffee," the concerned angel suggested.

"Nope. I'm gonna drink 'til I blackout." And then he began an exaggerated version of some song called Family Tradition. When a chorus trailed off into his drunken fog, he chuckled darkly again. "You know that angel in your house is right. I'm so fucked up."

"What do you mean?" Castiel tilted his head, listening carefully.

"Took Hael out today. She doesn't give two shits about me--not like I want her to anyway--so why do I keep trying?" A third bout of dark laughter drowned out the last few words. He snatched the beer and got a stout swallow in before Castiel wrestled it away from him. "You know why I keep trying? Because I can't be attracted to anything that's not fucked up just like me. And lemme tell you, Hael's really fucked up. I like trying to fix her. How fucking sick is that?"

"Sam--"

"--You know what's great about Demiel?" He pointed his bottle toward Castiel as he rambled. "She's fucked up too, but like, she handles her own shit. Nothing about her screams victim." Shrugging, he mumbled into the mouth of his bottle. "So naturally I barely even knew she was alive. If she doesn't need to be rescued, she's not on my radar. And I think I hurt her a lot chasing someone who doesn't want me. I didn't even know I hurt her either. Not 'til that day."

Castiel cleared his throat and folded his hands over the bar, knowing he really shouldn't get involved in the romantic intrigues of his nest. He proceeded carefully.

"Perhaps what Hael needs most now is friendship without expectation of strings attached," he suggested. "Just be her friend. I highly doubt she's capable of amorous bonds, nor will she be for quite some time. I hate to see you constantly worrying over her. It's not good for you."

"Tell me about it," he muttered with a wobbly nod.

"All of us in this family--" Castiel carefully avoided using the word nest in public, "--are trying to redefine who we are, I suppose. My family is trying to understand what freedom of emotions mean. Your family is trying to navigate a rebellion they didn't ask to be apart of, and it's never easy to blend families either, especially ones like ours. It will all fall into place as it should in time."

"So you're saying I should stop trying to push this thing if there's something else waiting to fall into place." Sam sounded shockingly insightful for being so thoroughly intoxicated.

"I'm saying ... what's the human phrase ... don't put all of your eggs in one carton." Scrunching his forehead, he peered at Sam. "Is that it?"

Sam smirked. "Basket."

"Basket." With a short nod, Castiel rose from his barstool and unfolded the wallet from his back jeans pocket. He left money on the bar, taking Sam by the arm. "Come on. You can't drive like this. You can come home with me and sleep on the couch. Dean is expecting you."

"Drunk flying sounds fun," laughed Sam as he let himself be dragged out of the bar, stumbling all the way. "I need a tail. I can be a flying monkey. You're taking me home? But doesn't Demiel hate me?"

"No, no. Nobody hates you, least of all Demiel." Except himself. Castiel led the drunken giant outside, thinking nobody hated the Winchesters like they hated themselves. "This way. No, no. The door's over in this direction. Steady now."

That night, Sam snored loudly on Dean and Castiel's couch.

*****

"Why did you let him sleep naked?" Dean asked, standing in the kitchen with an early morning cereal bowl.

"I couldn't exactly stop him. I went to get a pillow and a blanket and he was already half undressed by the time I got back." At least a blanket covered Sam from the waist down and Castiel was thankful for that. He tilted to one side for a look at Sam flung haphazardly across every couch cushion, an arm dangling on the floor, and his head shoved under his borrowed pillow.

"Why was he so drunk?" probed Dean further.

It seemed a bit unbelievable that Dean didn't know why. His eyebrow arched. "Why do any Winchesters drink?"

Dean's eyes darted from Castiel's face to his brother's body passed out on the couch. "Feeling like a failure, I guess," he surmised. "Feeling like nothing's in control anymore." A faint shade of darkness came over Dean's soul but Castiel chose not to comment on it.

"I don't think he knows where he fits in all of this," Castiel explained in a discreet tone. "He was instrumental in bringing us together, so your place in the nest is with me. I believe he wanted the same thing for himself with Hael, but we all know she's rather troubled, and that leaves him living with Bobby apart from the rest of us. Demiel rather unkindly pointed out his flaws in the heat of the moment and ... he's limping through life like a wounded animal right now."

"Okay. Girl problems, basically," replied Dean as he spooned cereal in his mouth.

"Girl problems are a symptom of a bigger disease, as they say."

"I get it." Dean tipped the cereal bowl into his mouth and slurped down the sugary milk. As he took it to the sink, he added, "I like Demmie better for my brother anyway."

"Let Sam choose who he wants."

"I don't think it's up to him. Angel or human, girls gotta give you the green light or you'll drink yourself stupid waiting like ... well ... like Sammy." He grabbed Castiel around the waist and planted a wet kiss in the hollow of his cheek. "Let's let him sleep it off and take Squirt somewhere fun. The pumpkin patch or something. His first Halloween is coming up."

"Not until the other end of the month," he corrected.

"Close enough." Dean smirked and kissed him again. "We'll talk to Sammy after he sleeps it off. Better not to poke the hungover bear."

Chapter Text

The all-powerful archangel Gabriel leaned over the couch and examined Sam the way someone might examine a sleeping grizzly bear at a zoo. “You gonna wake up today, big boy?” he asked the hungover Winchester, plucking a chunk of hair off his face.

"Leave him alone! He doesn’t feel well!" hissed Demiel, armed with a Tupperware container of her latest creation. "Here. Try this cookie. No, don’t tickle his nose! Put down that feather. Look here—hot cookies."

"Oooh." Gleefully, Gabriel left Sam alone and wiggled his fingers as he selected one of her sweet treats.

That was the scene that greeted Dean and Castiel when they brought James home from the pumpkin patch. While the older Winchester carried pumpkins under each elbow, Castiel carried a car seat over his forearm. Seeing Demiel clearly babysitting an archangel and a hungover human made both of them chuckle. Sam groaned and rolled over, facing the back of the couch, and he balled himself up into the smallest space he could given his enormous stature.

"Not awake yet?" Dean asked.

"Nope," replied Gabriel through a full mouth. "Been trying to convince Demiel a greasy breakfast is the greatest hangover cure for you humans but she won’t let me touch him." Swallowing, he shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth. "Damn this is good. What is it?"

"Snickerdoodles," she answered quietly. Always so quiet with her.

Dean stiffened, facing the kitchen as if he caught a whiff of something. He dumped the pumpkins on the dining table and bolted for the stove. A rather large silver pot simmered over the heat, wafting a warm, acidic aroma into the apartment. Castiel's heightened senses picked apart every ingredient right down to each molecule--puréed tomatoes, mild spices, and an indulgence of rice. It appeared that Castiel should have known immediately why a simple pot of soup affected Dean so deeply and it worried him that he didn't grasp it. Dean went ashen.

"Where'd you learn this? Demmie? Get in here," he barked, then recoiled at his own burst of aggression.

"Dean..." cautioned Castiel as he scooped James out of his car seat.

"I found something written on a little piece of paper," Demiel explained as she breezed into the kitchen and presented him with the source used as a page marker in an old cookbook. "Didn't you ever look in the cookbooks you gave me? There were a great many notes and things stuck between pages. I made the soup because it said 'sick kids' at the top. See?" She tapped the top margin of the paper. "Sam isn't well and, honestly, Hael isn't well either. I thought certainly this sick kids soup would help soothe the weaknesses of their human stomachs."

"Uh ... yeah." Steadying himself, Dean gazed at the scrap of paper as if looking at a religious relic. "My mom used to make this when I was sick. This is her handwriting. She copied it from her mom. I ... I gave you her cookbooks, y'know, but I ... I didn't think there was anything like this left."

"Oh...." replied Demiel sympathetically. "You should have these things back then. They're your mother's things."

"No, I gave them to you." He covered emotion with a deep throaty sound. "She'd want someone like you to learn to take care of your kids on stuff like this. I just ... I'm gonna keep this page though. You can copy it."

"Fair enough," she agreed. "Do you want to taste?"

A childlike yet faint smile plumped Dean's cheeks. "Yeah." He nodded. "Yeah, I would."

"I'll take some downstairs to Hael if you wrap it up," offered Castiel. He still marveled at Demiel's ability to remain empathetic and gentle despite her jealousy where Hael was concerned. The uncanny ability to compartmentalize the needs of the nest over her developing personal emotions continually left him in awe.

"Sammy!" shouted Dean, reinvigorated. "Sammy! Get up! Soup's on!"

*****

The moon twin, as Castiel called Mael in his mind, tugged him by the elbow into the living room before he could visit the sun twin, Hael, in her bedroom. Two distinct lines folded the skin between her eyes, worried for her newly human sister.

"She paints. All the time. I don't think she sleeps much either," reported Mael, whispering, yet heightened and agitated.

"Is she eating?" Castiel probed.

"Barely. She's plummeting into depression." She flicked the length of her dark hair over her shoulder the exact way Hael often flicked pale red hair over her own shoulder. Those angels marooned in vessels of completely different nationalities couldn't disguise the mirror image of twins. Yet, Castiel reminded himself, one twin wasn't an angel anymore. "I'm trained to assist humans in their darkest moments of suffering, but I seem to be at a loss when it comes to my own twin."

"It's because you love your sister," he said as he crouched before Evelyn lying on a blanket with her toys. "Is she caring for the fledgling?"

"Mostly."

His eyes turned up to Mael and he gave Evelyn's plump tummy an affectionate rub. "Mostly?" William, Mael's fledgling son, giggled beside little Evelyn.

"It's rather peculiar, Castiel. There are times when, if she had not once been an angel, I'd simply see her human soul and help her along with what people label 'postpartum depression' in this age but this isn't the same circumstance. There was no gestation or childbirth."

Castiel understood the way Mael's angelic mind worked. Everything followed steps. Point A led to point B, which led to point C, and so forth. Her twin being cut off from Heaven's power and dumped into humanity were not the points A and B that led to human female postpartum depression, and so she couldn't lend her thoughts to that theory. He didn't know much about the myriad of types of human depression aside from what Dean showed him, but he knew how to teach Mael to adapt her thought processes into more flexibility. Being the angel of human suffering gave her the training to help Hael if she could gain her footing.

"It doesn't matter so much how she became so melancholic as it does which symptoms need to be alleviated," he explained, rising to his feet again. "If she behaves in a manner that reads as postpartum depression to your perception, then use your skills to help her in that way."

"I see...." Mael's features smoothed out as it turned over in her mind.

Kindly, Castiel patted her upper arm. "Everything will be okay. All of us have been through a lot in such a short time. Not everyone will bounce back to normalcy right away."

"I know," replied Mael, nodding.

"I'm going to see her now. Demiel sent soup," he said as he gestured with the bowl covered by cellophane.

Leaving Mael with the two fledglings and their toys, Castiel followed the hallway to the larger bedroom. The apartment's floorplan nearly replicated his own, minus the third bedroom, and it appeared Mael favored a bit of a feminine decorative touch. Her vessel's gender clearly influenced her choices.

The large bedroom slammed Castiel's senses into a wall of chemicals, dim lighting, and clutter. A bed off to one side seemed rather haphazard and forgotten with wound up sheets and clothes tossed all over it. Window blinds hung at diagonal, broken angles, and baby things scattered across the floor to the crib on the opposite wall. Hael set up her easel in the center of the room with only her painting supplies giving any semblance of organization on the dresser between the windows. Half a dozen completed--and stunning--paintings lined the room. A sense of artistic obsession permeated the chemically thick air.

"Hello, Hael," he greeted, unable to hide his concern. The soup was abandoned on the dresser as he straightened the blinds and threw open the windows. "You cannot work without proper ventilation. Human lungs need clean air." Fanning his arms at the windows, he hoped to force the fumes out faster.

She didn't seem to notice him as her body shifted, her head tilted, and she examined her canvas from a different vantage.

"Your paintings are beautiful," he ventured.

"Thanks," she replied in a small, transparent tone.

He nodded. So she only acknowledged the presence of others if they talked about her work. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Dean and I are taking James out to dinner this evening. You're welcome to join us. With Evelyn, of course."

"Maybe," said Hael without looking up from her canvas.

"I brought you soup. Demiel's turned my kitchen into a restaurant."

"Thanks," she said.

He hesitated. "You need to eat, Hael."

"I know."

"You look thinner. It's important to maintain good nutri--"

"--Did you know human fetuses begin hearing the outside world in the second trimester of gestation?"

That took him aback and, squinting, he realized what Mael meant by seeing signs of postpartum depression. It didn't quite fit for him though. He sensed something else in her that he couldn't quite place, which didn't come easy at all with the underdeveloped state of her human soul.

"Hael...."

"Bonding between mother and child begins at conception and deepens when the child can hear her voice. But is it the same when the child is adopted?" The question she posed didn't appear directed at him but to the rhetorical nature of the universe. "And what happens when the so-called mother is a completely different species from her adopted child? What then?"

"Hael--"

"--And I'm going to die."

"What?"

Pale, red-rimmed eyes lifted and met his for the first time that day. It looked as if she hadn't slept in days. Darkness pooled under her eyes. Age lines framed her mouth where they hadn't before. He thought for certain that she would clarify her statement as most humans did, but she simply stood there staring blankly at him. His eyes narrowed, hoping to encourage her to speak. Instead, her countenance smoothed into the eerie calm of madness--the way humans appeared when they didn't recognize someone so familiar in their everyday lives.

Suddenly she smiled. "Why are you staring?"

"You said you're going to die," replied Castiel, stepping closer.

"Well, yeah. Everybody does." Hael's thin brow arched and her torso bent forward as if sharing a secret. "Have you thought about how you're going to go?"

"I'm immortal," he told her, increasingly worried by the second. "Hael, do you know who I am?"

"Duh, of course I do! You're like totally Castiel." The loose noodle quality her body took on made him back up. Her eyes rolled and she smiled brightly with an equally loose flip of her hand.

"What's 'duh'?"

Hael giggled and Castiel really had no idea what she was doing. And then he noticed a DVD case on her bed with a blonde woman using the same vapid facial expression. He reached for the DVD case and examined images from the film on the back.

"Have you been watching DVDs?"

The painting attracted her attention again. Just as quickly as the giggly expressions came over her, they faded again, and she descended back into somber stillness.

"You don't have to mimic humans. Especially humans in these films. They're not real," he offered gently. "You're a woman in your own right now. You'll find out who you are as you move through life. It's okay to mourn the loss of your grace but you're still with us. You're still alive. There's beauty in every form of life. You just have to give it a chance."

She didn't say a word, but kept painting, and he wondered if anything he said sank in at all. Pushing her too hard worried him in that fragile mental state and he decided to leave her in peace. Her behavior extended far beyond his knowledge of human reactions to pressure and he knew he needed to consult Dean on it. Certainly not Sam. The younger brother's desire to fix her could backfire and break him in the process.

Castiel grasped her shoulders and kissed her cheek as he passed through the room to the doorway. "Keep the windows open as long as you're painting," he cautioned, "and don't forget to eat your soup."

It was like kissing a lifeless mannequin.

*****

One of the only instances Castiel chose to eat like a human was when Dean took him to Round Robin. Their county just got one for the first time not long before--Castiel noticed South Dakota seemed rather behind the rest of the country--and he enjoyed trying a new gourmet burger each time they visited.

"She's been watching Clueless?" Dean stuffed fries into his mouth and wrinkled his nose. "Dude, that's the worst kind of human to mimic."

"I wouldn't know. I haven't seen it." The barbecue burger fascinated Castiel more at the moment. He sucked sauce from two of his fingers and dove in for another huge bite.

"Think of that Kardashian shit you watch, except blonde and in high school." But then, as Dean scooted James up on his lap to keep little grabby hands out of fries, he reconsidered. "Well, actually, Cher had a soul by the end. Pretty sure those Kardashians sold theirs."

"Who's Cher?"

"Blonde chick in the movie."

"Oh." Castiel nodded and picked a piece of bacon out of his burger, enjoying it separately. It occurred to him abruptly, though, as he looked over the table's corner at Dean. "Wait, how do you know the character's name in the movie?"

Dean's face froze. "Um...."

"You saw it. And if you say she grew a soul by the end, then you must have enjoyed it." The smirk momentarily distracted him from his food.

"Shut up," he muttered, ducking down into his basket of fries.

Chuckling, Castiel slid his hand over the table and squeezed Dean's wrist. And then, unable to resist the moment, he brought the hunter's rough worn hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles.

"That's it. Suck up," teased Dean through the veil of harshness.

"We're going to have to talk about Hael's mental state soon," Castiel said after the humor receded.

"Lay it on me tomorrow," Dean replied. "Dealing with Sammy all hungover and depressed zapped my energy today. I just wanna go home and go to bed with you and my boy. You can fill me in while I'm in the shower before I head to work in the morning."

Nodding, Castiel finished off his burger and swallowed a mouthful of a relatively untouched drink. "I have to help Hetanel pack things for the fledglings tomorrow. He's taking them on a grace bonding trip in the wilderness this weekend. I think Timaniel and Demiel volunteered to go with him for extra hands. I was thinking we'd let James go too."

"A whole weekend to ourselves," mused Dean with a twinkle in his eye. "What will we do?"

Chapter Text

"What exactly is this grace bonding nature trip about anyway?" Dean stood in their bedroom gripping a bath towel around his waist.

As Castiel zipped James into his new winter coat, he thought about the baby wipes he forgot to put in his bag. “Bonding the grace of a mature angel with the underdeveloped grace of a fledgling helps strengthen it during the maturing process,” he explained. “Being in nature really isn’t necessary but Hetanel has been immersed in North American indigenous culture for so long that he feels a deeper connection to spiritual matters when he’s camping. So he wants to take the nest to the wilderness before winter sets in and he can’t do that for months.”

"Uh-huh," replied Dean, combing a hand through his wet hair. "I guess Hael’s not going because she’s got no mojo anymore."

"And Mael won’t leave her alone all weekend. They’re sending their fledglings though."

"Why aren’t you going?"

Castiel tied James’ new little tennis shoes and glanced up at Dean with a half-smile. “How often do we get a weekend alone together?”

"Oh…." Dean’s half-smile appeared to match.

"Would you like to see what grace bonding looks like?"

"Yeah."

Castiel gestured for Dean to join him on the bed and he slid James between them. Kneeling around the fledgling, they joined hands and Dean mimicked him as he held James' hand. The three of them formed a family circle together.

"I don't know if you're going to feel anything but we'll try," said Castiel.

Of course Dean nodded as if he knew what was to follow but he didn't. The angel bent over their child and murmured in Enochian, realizing he hadn't been teaching him their native language at all. He told James they were going to bond and then he closed his eyes, squeezing both Dean's hand as well as his child's hand. Heat swirled and built in Castiel's chest, slowly merging into his arms, and into each of his fingers. The heat grew intensely until it ignited into bluish-white light that Dean would certainly recognize as the glow of his grace.

"Cas?"

The angel said nothing. Speaking would break the moment. Light flowed through Castiel's fingertips into James' little hand as well as Dean's palm. Liquid iridescence bled into their veins, illuminated wrist arteries, flowed steadily into Dean's bloodstream, merged with James' bloodstream where they joined hands, and passed through the child back to Castiel again. A completed circle.

"Do you feel anything?" Castiel questioned in a subdued tone.

"Um... Tingly. Hot. I..."

"Okay. Concentrate. What is James feeling?" If he experienced tingling and heat, then perhaps he could go further.

Dean scoffed, ever the skeptical hunter. "What?"

"Focus on your child. Communicate through the grace."

"Um... okay..."

Time passed as Dean served as a conduit of angelic grace. His focus deepened to the sharpness that only a lifelong hunter could maintain, and although Castiel held himself back from eavesdropping in a manner of speaking, he sat perfectly still for the moment.

A pop and fizzle of static in the air between Dean and James startled Castiel but the both of them chuckled at each other. Father and son met eyes there on the bed as the fledgling's legs excitedly kicked in and out. A gummy mouth widened in a plump smile of delight, followed by intermittent gurgling coos.

"Did it work?"

A long moment passed without Dean responding at all, though Castiel thought he saw a subtle nod. "He... uh..." Early morning sunlight caught the glint of tears rimming Dean's eyes.

Castiel let go. The light of his grace naturally withdrew from the circle back into his chest. "It's okay, Dean. You don't have to tell me anything. It's between you and James." He leaned over and slung his arm around the back of Dean's shoulders, squeezing him close with a kiss to the highest point of his cheekbone. "I don't want to expose you to it too often but we can do this again if it's something you want."

"I do," Dean murmured.

"Okay." Castiel kissed him a second time. "Let's finish getting him packed up. Hetanel will be here to pick him up any minute now."

*****

A silent apartment bothered Castiel far more than he expected. No crying fledglings with poopy diapers or hungry mouths to feed. No sounds of Demiel puttering around the kitchen. He even tried to find a football game on television to trick himself into believing Dean was home rather than working his body to the bone on a construction site. Castiel just didn't know what to do with himself.

He sat rather stiffly on the couch watching mind-numbing television for a while and it occurred to him... What did he do before he had a fledgling?

He was a soldier. The world was always in danger and he killed.

A reformed soldier was a lost angel without people to look after and Castiel didn't like questioning his personal identity just because his son was gone for the weekend. As far as he'd helped the other angels in their nest come along with their personal identities, he had neglected his own. He went straight from taking orders in Heaven to taking orders from his baby boy. He didn't know what he liked or wanted as a man in his own right--and he certainly did consider himself more of a man than an angel every day--but nobody held him back either. Neither Dean nor James tied him down and prevented him from learning his own tastes and needs. He did it to himself through unwavering devotion to them.

Four mindless talk shows into his day and Castiel had enough of sitting on the couch. He meandered downstairs to the apartment below his and knocked on the door, thinking that perhaps Mael felt as lost as him without children underfoot.

"Hello, Cas," greeted Mael with a mop. It looked odd to him, an angel with enormous peacock blue wings, yet carrying a mop like a human maid.

"Hello, Mael. I see you're keeping yourself occupied." He smirked, jerking his chin at the mop.

"Yeah. Come on in." Stepping aside, she returned to the wet kitchen floor and slopped soapy water around from the sink. "I feel like I can't get my home clean enough. I don't know why but I'm taking the chance to clean everything while William and Evelyn are away."

"Could it be because Hael is living in such disarray?" he theorized.

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Mael replied, swaying back and forth with the rhythm of mopping the floor.

"How is she?"

"Sleeping at the moment. She won't sleep during the night. I believe she's afraid of the dark."

"Hmm." Castiel had heard of that before. "It is said that fallen angels develop strange phobias while they transition from having Heaven's grace to having a human soul."

"Have you ever known one?"

"A fallen angel?"

"Yeah."

"Lucifer, of course. There was another called Anna as well." He didn't enjoy being reminded of either of them. Failing Anna meant the worst possible outcome.

She squeezed out dirty mop water into the empty side of the sink and dunked it into the other side filled with sudsy water. "And what happened?"

"Well, we all know of Lucifer...." he replied.

"Madness and being locked in Hell's cage," she said. "What about Anna?"

He hesitated. Coming downstairs for a distraction and something to do didn't entail such a conversation in his mind. Thinking about what he used to be--the bloody things he had to do--made him question his worthiness of being a father. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck the way he always did when he didn't want to talk about something.

Mael squinted over her shoulder at him. "Cas?"

"She went mad," he blurted, "and I had to... stop her."

An unreadable expression answered him for a long, quiet moment. Then, without emotion, Mael resumed mopping around the refrigerator and finished the remainder of the floor.

"Fallen angels go mad," she mumbled. "I understand."

"The difference between Lucifer and Anna and Hael is they didn't have a family like ours. We need to give Hael some time, I think." Really, though, Castiel didn't know if any angel lost their grace and lived to have any semblance of a normal human life. "If we found a fallen angel who's doing well as a human, then such a friendship could really benefit her."

Spinning around, Mael's eyes brightened with a renewed hopeful light. "Oh, that's a wonderful idea! We could do it! I know we can find someone! Surely not all fallen angels succumbed to madness. That would help her so much."

Oh dear. Castiel wondered if he bit off more than he could chew.

*****

Not having a baby to take care of gave Castiel the time to investigate the cookbooks Dean had given Demiel late that afternoon. He decided to attempt cooking even though there were a lot of her leftovers in the refrigerator. It was more of an experiment for him to see if he even liked cooking.

As it turned out, he didn’t enjoy it.

Dean devoured the chicken and rice with broccoli, making sounds of ecstasy the entire time. Though Castiel didn’t eat much—why would he—but he sat at the little dining table with Dean as he always did. He wondered if the performance was for his benefit as a novice cook rather than truly enjoying it.

"You’re bored without the rugrat, huh?" Dean surmised with a playful smirk.

For some reason, Dean seeing right through him made him respond with a sheepish grin. “I don’t really know what to do with myself.”

"Well, you got me the next two days."

Castiel couldn’t figure out why Dean kept smirking that way. His own mind was cluttered with worry for Hael, finding another fallen angel to help her, keeping Sam from drinking himself to death, keeping Heaven out of their nest, protecting all of them from further attacks and—

"Come on," Dean said, cutting through his thoughts. Suddenly the hunter stood before him at the table with his hand extended. "You’re so tense that you’re making me nervous. We’re not spending the weekend with you wound this tight."

Obediently, Castiel trained behind Dean and let himself be led to the bedroom by the hand. “Dean, what—”

"—I don’t have those magic mojo fingers but I know a thing or two," he said, pointing to the bed. "Now get naked and lay down for me."

Castiel hesitated and grabbed his cell phone from his back pocket. "Okay, but let me check on the baby first. Demiel has to make sure his diaper rash--"

"--Cas." With a gentler smile, Dean took the phone from him and left it on the dresser. "You gotta relax, man. Demmie, Hetanel, and Timaniel all have rugrats of their own. They know to put baby butt rash cream on him. He's cool, okay? Hael will survive a weekend without you too. And so will Sammy. Us though?" His eyes softened. "We have time for once. I need you too."

"You're right," Castiel acquiesced somewhat woefully. He braced his hands on his hips and took a deep breath, never actually realizing how thinly stretched he felt. "I-I'm sorry, Dean."

"Don't worry 'bout it." Stepping closer, Dean's body heat bled into Castiel's clothes. The hunter greeted him with a surprisingly tender touch of a hand along his cheek. "We're in a fucked up situation, y'know? Just gotta make the best of it."

They smiled faintly at one another. Mutual attraction pulled them in for a simultaneous kiss, uncertain of who initiated and who received it, until it became clear that they moved together as one. Castiel pulled back and, taking Dean by the hand, brought him to the bed they shared. He remembered the instruction that he should 'get naked' and so, without the least bit of shame, he peeled off his clothes as Dean watched. Tight static filled the air with Castiel's eyes locked on his face.

"On your stomach," dictated Dean in a low, dry tone.

Castiel occupied the same space Dean had when he offered temporary healing of his back pain. Things felt different that night, though, with the sort of anticipation that sent blood rushing through his vessel. Dean climbed over the backs of his thighs and, feeling naked skin rather than rough denim jeans, Castiel knew he'd stripped his clothes off as well.

The massage oil bottle cap popped and broke the thick silence. Cool, smooth liquid provided a calming barrier between Dean's worn, calloused hands and Castiel's shoulders. The hardness of his muscles slowly gave way to a warm sensation of his vessel melting into the mattress. And as Dean made his way to his lower back, his increasing arousal became more and more apparent along the valley of Castiel's bottom. That only made Castiel hyper aware of his own weight pressing the swollen length of his aroused flesh against the sheets.

Just as he considered rolling over and throwing Dean on his back--vessels could be quite insistent when it came to sexual desire--the hunter rose up on his knees and nudged Castiel to roll on his back. Flushed red along his collarbones and chest, Dean peered down at him in silence. Castiel resisted the urge to pass a stroking hand over Dean's urgent erection bobbing over him. Something told him to wait.

Dean tumbled forward over him and raked strong fingers through his messy dark hair as his kiss seared a brand into Castiel's mouth. Following his lead, Castiel's fingers trailed tantalizing slow claw marks up over his shoulders, just light enough not to be seen at a glance. They took their time since there was no threat of a crying fledgling or a roommate's nocturnal wanderings. Dean left purplish-red marks in sporadic patterns over his chest, each kiss turning into a nibble and then sometimes harder bites. Such things Castiel would never admit to finding exhilarating--being bitten--but Dean had learned it early on and indulged his whims.

Before Castiel knew it, his toes curled and his breath came in ragged gasps. His body twisted up into Dean seeking the friction and buildup of energy that proved far more addicting than he ever expected before they were together.

Flushed, intoxicatingly warm, and eyes hooded with need, Dean sat upright again. He openly drank in the sight of Castiel lying naked beneath him without the slightest hint of shame. Taking the bottle, he pressed it into the angel's hand with a silent communication. Castiel could have his way. Castiel could be in charge. It wasn't something Dean allowed very often--normally he needed to be the one to enter and Castiel never complained.

"You're certain?" the angel whispered.

The hunter nodded without a word.

Of course, he knew Dean well enough to understand that he couldn't give up total control. So Castiel's slicked hands roved his skin and he leaned up for deeply grateful kisses that meandered on forever, yet he never pushed Dean down beneath him. He waited, wet fingers sliding in a teasing rhythm, until Dean rocked on his hand, overcome with constrained groans.

Castiel's own desire demanded attention and a sharp moan slipped through his lips as he lined up his overly sensitive head with Dean's opening. Even the resistance of Dean's muscles seemed to touch each and every nerve along the impossibly rigid arousal, as if his body knew the hunter rarely allowed such intimate admittance. Fingertips dug into Dean's hips and although the drunken state of his body wanted him to close his eyes, Castiel's will wanted to watch even more.

"Shit, Cas...." groaned Dean through a shaky breath.

Watching his hunter rock above him, feeling the tight muscles squeeze around him with each pass--it all but stunned Castiel into silence. Hands raked up and down Dean's thighs, encouraging him. Craving more despite uncertain about that vulnerability spurned Dean forward into quicker snapping hips. His eyes fluttered as if deeply drunk and his mouth hung agape, pushing out broken syllables resembling the angel's name and pleas for more. Dean's head tipped back with a curving arch of his spine and Castiel's hands snaked up and down the broadness of his chest.

Soon their bodies pumped harder against each other and Dean's hoarse voice climbed to a higher register. Castiel's teeth sank into his lower lip, forcing himself to hold out until he could watch that explosive moment.

"Cas... Cas, ohh...."

The angel judged the moment and sent the hunter sailing off the cliff. His hand latched around Dean's slick girth and stroked as he rode out bursts of explosive, consuming energy. Castiel's body refused to wait any longer. Thick white ropes spurted over his chest in Dean's release as he filled his lover with his own volcanic explosion.

Simultaneously, light bulbs exploded beneath lampshades on each nightstand. Dean barely reacted as he collapsed at Castiel's side. Panting and sticky with sweat, massage oil, and each other's releases, they fell shoulder to shoulder on the mattress and stared at the darkened ceiling. It certainly was more exciting, Castiel decided silently as he rubbed his forehead, to make love without racing the clock between baby needs or keeping quiet for a roommate's sake.

"Really, Cas?" said Dean through a shredded voice.

Castiel's head rolled to the side and looked over his profile. "What?"

"Light bulbs aren't cheap."

"Oh. Sorry." But he wasn't sorry. He smirked in the dark.

Dean smirked too. He felt it. "You gotta work out that frustration more often or you'll blow up the rest of the lights in this place."

"I suppose so." Perhaps it was the drunken haze after making love or perhaps exploded light bulbs really were funny, but Castiel laughed. His lips pulled taut with the width of his smile.

"I like to hear you laugh," Dean murmured quietly in a tone he never used for anyone else.

Chapter Text

It amused Castiel to no end that he could stroll out to the kitchen in the middle of the night completely naked and fill a glass of ice water for Dean. He still expected a baby to squall somewhere in the apartment and part of him even expected an awkward run-in with Demiel in the hallway, but they were truly the kings of their castle for the weekend.

They'd even made love twice more, varying from slow and lazy to rushed and bruised bodies, without the slightest concern for keeping quiet.

Castiel found Dean propped against the headboard, having changed the room's exploded light bulbs. He left the ice water on Dean's nightstand and slid across the sheets onto his own side of the bed, head propped on his fist. Though Dean had the sheet drawn up to his waist, a leg drawn up with his knee folded toward the ceiling, the draped thin fabric over his body's lines left little doubt of the state of his nudity. And that was the way Castiel liked to see him--relaxed, naked, and engrossed in another book. No one else had that privilege.

"You gonna watch me read all night?" he asked, smirking.

"Perhaps," replied Castiel with his own lopsided smile. "What book is it this time?"

"The Picture of Dorian Gray." Briefly, he lifted the book and angled the cover for Castiel to have a look.

Castiel scooted close, leaning on Dean's shoulder. "You don't usually read novels."

"Says who?"

"Says the eighteen poetry books on the shelf over there." He gestured to the corner--an old shelf dragged along from his old room in Bobby's house--and thought about the Whitman book Dean once let him read. "What's so interesting about this novel?" Stretching and folding himself against Dean made Castiel feel like a feline.

"I dunno." Somehow the question changed Dean into a stiff sort of uneasiness. "This guy, Dorian, he's a model for a painter and he kinda gets sucked into a hedonistic crowd. It all gets messy. Some of ... um ... some of these guys have women and stuff, but like, this Lord Henry guy shows him ... um ... how would you say it...? He shows Dorian life as a den of iniquity and Dorian messes with women, men, everything. Nobody really seems to put labels on it or anything, but people seem to know, and it's all secretive with signals and playing on words and stuff. It just is but it's getting ugly too. The painting of Dorian's getting uglier with every new sin he commits."

Castiel wasn't sure about that. "Do you mean the homosexual deeds are reflected as ugliness in the painting?"

"No, I don't think so." Turning the page, Dean held the book with one hand and lazily stroked his neatly trimmed beard with the other. "I feel like the author's fighting it out about what he is through the story. All of these people are the author, really, if you think about it. He's not supposed to want men and freedom, but he does, so maybe he feels like people see him as ugly like the painting because he's different."

"You're reading it through your own experiences," Castiel suggested.

"Maybe," replied Dean, shrugging.

The hunter settled into his pillows and the angel slung an arm over his waist, perfectly content to lie with him in silence. Occasionally Dean flipped a page. And once in a while, his free arm folded and he drew lazy circles into Castiel's bare shoulder as he read the novel.

Time passed, though Castiel lost track of how much, and Dean grew tired of the book, it seemed. He replaced his bookmark, abandoned the tragic characters on the nightstand, and rolled over. They fit together in a pile of tangled limbs with their foreheads resting against one another. Silence cocooned the pair. Dean's soul went awash in cool blues and greens, signaling his contemplative mood. His fingertips traced a line along the corner of Castiel's jaw, along his throat, and he stared so intently that the angel wondered if he tried to look into his grace.

"Are you happy here, Dean?" Castiel ventured, barely above a whisper.

A meaty, rounded shoulder shrugged. "Sure, why?"

"Five months ago, your life was nothing but hunting with your brother. I appeared with a kidnapped fledgling angel and I suppose I took over your life whether you wanted it or not."

The corner of Dean's mouth curled upward. "You know me better than that, Cas. I never do shit I don't wanna do."

"True," he replied, passing fingertips through Dean's beard. "You don't feel cornered here then...."

"Nope."

"I'd let you go hunting if you wanted," he promised.

"I know you would." The way he spoke lacked all sense of mocking or teasing, which humbled Castiel, and he realized Dean let him in without the pretense of defensive humor. "Sometimes I'm gonna wanna hunt. Right now I'm feeling pretty settled. We'll see how long the chill, settled feeling lasts. I haven't had a home since I was a kid and I'm not robbing my kid of it because my dad dragged me all over the country. Even when I hunt, I'm always coming home."

Castiel nodded and dropped his hand to cover the center of Dean's chest. "Did I push you into raising James?"

"Hell no," replied Dean without hesitation. "I guess I subconsciously wanted a kid. I mean, I damn near convinced myself Ben was mine once, and I even entertained the idea of keeping Bobby-John, that shifter baby. Doing it by myself just wasn't possible though. I saw you bring home Squirt and--" he shrugged again, "--I knew what I wanted."

"It wasn't my home yet," Castiel corrected with a faint smile.

"Cas," corrected Dean right back, his green eyes deepening with sincerity. "You're always home to me. I pray to your feathery ass all the time--or I did--because home was with you."

The turn of phrase made Castiel chuckle. "My posterior is not feathery."

"Maybe not...." Twinkling mischievousness returned to Dean's eyes as his hand slid around Castiel's waist and dropped below, grabbing a significant portion of his vessel's bottom. "You've got a great ass though." He leaned over, nuzzling Castiel's neck, and slid his hand down the back of his thigh and up to his bottom again. "Like a runner."

Just like that, Dean was done with the sober discussion.

"Aren't you weary of me yet?" questioned Castiel.

"Nope," Dean said lightly as he sprang off the bed and headed for the doorway, already half-aroused, "but I'm tired of this room. C'mon, angel. Let's take a shower."

He didn't quite understand why Dean wanted to engage in human washing rituals together but the washcloth hadn't quite taken care of their earlier activities, so he followed the path to the bathroom. Dean already had the hot water running and offered a devious smile as he yanked Castiel by the wrists into the shower stall. Enclosed by glass, two grown men standing in a bathtub left little room to maneuver.

"Dean, what are we--"

Castiel's words got swallowed whole by Dean's kiss as he felt himself tugged flush against the hard wall of his lover's chest. He tasted clean, wet, and hot, with just a hint remaining of buttery chicken they'd eaten at dinner. The shower flowed over Dean's sloping shoulders and fell in lines along the contours of his chest between them. Apparently the change in venue renewed both of their carnal appetites as hands eventually came to rest around their hips--pulling and rubbing against each other until their pelvises ground into the hot friction of hot water rolling down flesh.

Breaking their kiss popped a wet echo in the bathroom and Dean spun, taking Castiel with him. Suddenly the angel found himself under the shower head with the steamy heat pelting down on the back of his neck. His skin seemed electrified all night as it was, so even the shower water felt like constant fingers erotically trailing down his body.

Again, Dean's hooded eyes spoke of something untested--something he hadn't been so willing to do before--as he sank to the porcelain floor. Seeing him drop to his knees left Castiel speechless and his throat went dry with anticipation. Though he never pushed Dean and he never minded his slow progression in their lovemaking, Castiel had quietly fantasized about such things. And there Dean was, willing to try a new thing just as he had earlier in the night.

"Dean," he murmured tenderly, reaching down to caress his cheek.

The hunter peered up at him, resolute in his choice to proceed. His lips twitched with a subtle smile and Castiel felt his face go red as his painfully hard arousal twitched at the sight of those lips. Dean's mouth bloomed into a full, cocky smirk, apparently realizing the nerve he struck. He grasped Castiel firmly, that wickedly strong fist working him into a state of delirium.

And then a puff of hot breath brought Castiel back to Earth long enough to look down at Dean's slick tongue dart out and taste his head. He licked again, curling along the underside, and Castiel grabbed the cold, tiled wall for support. He couldn't believe it was happening. He just couldn't believe it.

As Dean grew braver, perhaps spurned on by Castiel's constrained panting, his lips widened and welcomed the flushed red flesh into his mouth. Velvet, hot, and wet, much like the shower itself, his mouth took in more and more with each pass. Castiel watched, weak-kneed and biting his lip hard to stop himself from losing it right there.

A low, predatory groan rumbled out from his chest--a sound he hadn't made before--and it attracted Dean's attention. Green eyes flicked up to his face and appeared as fulfilled by the fantasy as him. It never occurred to Castiel until then. Dean fantasized about it too but fear held him back. It wasn't that he didn't want to experiment with him. He'd just been afraid to take the plunge with so many ideas that meant submitting to Castiel's dominance, at least in his own mind.

Realizing the depth of Dean's new willingness deepened Castiel's love in ways he never thought possible. Lovingly, his fingers curled through the slick wetness of Dean's hair and allowed himself to be filled by all the physical and emotional sensations.

But as Dean's hand slipped between his legs and rolled his balls through his fingers, Castiel's only sense of awareness centered on the physical. He laced his fingers around the fist gripping him at the base of his rigid flesh, feeling lips brush his thumb with each pass. The raw sensations threatened to overpower him. As Castiel's head hit the tile behind him, the shower flow shifted, directly pounding into his chest. He pitched his hips forward and clung to the back of Dean's head. Castiel was truly the one in charge for the first time and his groans reached new depths of depravity for an angel.

It hit him before he could warn Dean. The burst of energy rushed through him--actually painful, yet deliciously so--and stars exploded before his eyes. Only when he slumped to the corner and let go of Dean did he realize the stars bursting before his eyes weren't his own body climaxing but the bathroom light bulbs exploding in rapid succession.

Ragged breathing cut through the darkness as Castiel caught his own breath. It was Dean, standing under the shower with his eyes squeezed shut and his wrist flicking furiously. Tight-fisted and urgent, apparently he couldn't wait for Castiel to regain his strength. As a violent, shuddering release spiraled through Dean's body and down the shower drain, Castiel wondered exactly how long he'd been fantasizing about what he'd done.

"Damn it, Cas," he laughed through hard panting as he recovered, "you gotta quit it with the lights."

"I can't help it. The energy has to go somewhere. You don't want me to rip my vessel, do you?" The angel smiled softly, pushing himself off the tiled wall looping his arms around Dean's waist.

"What do you mean--" he linked arms around Castiel as well, "--you, uh, your true form in there comes too?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Castiel replied. "Think of a concentrated burst of joy rather than a burst of ... reproductive ... stuff. That kind of feeling is too much for a human body to contain."

"Wow...." Dean gazed at him in wonderment and kissed him with faintly salted lips. "Y'know I love you, Cas."

"I love you too, Dean," he murmured.

The joking smirk returned there in the shadowy bathroom. "You broke the lights. You fix 'em." With that, Dean slapped him on the rear and hopped out of the shower.

Chapter Text

"Should we ... should we read it?" Dean cocked his head.

Castiel cocked his head too. "I think we know who sent it."

"Yeah, but this isn't his style." Leaning over the dining table, Dean sniffed at the bunch of six yellow roses as if he'd never encountered pretty things before.

"We shouldn't read it."

"You're right."

They nodded at each other and Castiel stuck the tiny envelope between the stems again. Neither of them left the slender glass vase though. On the contrary, they stood rooted on the spot completely baffled by the concept of sending and receiving flowers.

"Y'know, he hasn't been right lately...."

"Dean...."

He cut a sharp eye at Castiel and his voice turned defensive. "Well, what if he's off his rocker and proposed or some shit like that? Sammy's the kind of guy to latch onto a rebound girl!"

"I think Sam is smarter than that."

Dean stared, saying nothing for a long moment. And then, he blurted, "I'm gonna read it!" as he grabbed for the card stuck in the flowers.

Unfortunately, his reflexes were faster than Castiel's, leaving the angel to nearly wrestle him for it. "They need to work it out for themselves," he insisted as he bolted after the hunter. The dispute stumbled toward the living room and Castiel snatched back the card by surprise. Dean swung around him and tried to make another grab just as Castiel held it high over his head. They dissolved into laughter as they fought over a card neither of them had business reading.

"Guys?"

The pair of them froze like children caught by their parents doing something wrong. Neither of them heard Demiel come through the front door with her arms overloaded by diaper bags and car seats.

"Hello, Demiel!"

"Demmie, you're back!"

Smiling like a couple of cheshire cats, Dean not-so-casually stuck the crinkled card back in the flowers as Castiel came to relieve her load. He took James' car seat, smiling down at the fledgling whose eyes shined and cheeks pink with the chill puffed up with his own smile.

"Did I interrupt something?" She looked at them like they were insane.

"You got ... uh ... a delivery this morning," Dean said with a gesture toward the flowers. He then took James' diaper bag off her shoulder. "How was Squirt this weekend?"

"He was wonderful. The grace strengthening exercises seem to have helped all the fledglings," she explained as she put Noah's car seat in a chair by the dining room table so she could have a look at the flowers. It seemed to baffle her just as it had baffled them. "I think it might soon be time to start James on more solid foods. Not quite yet but watch him. He's starting to fuss like a bottle isn't enough anymore."

Castiel unstrapped his fledgling from the car seat and cuddled him close, chin resting on soft baby hair. Fists tugged at his t-shirt as the baby drooled happily on his father, eager to put anything in his mouth. He closed his eyes, indulging the moment, and kissed the top of his boy's head. They had never been separated that long before. Still, he never expected to be quite so emotional about the reunion. The voices behind him receded into the distance as he swayed softly, murmuring affectionate phrases in Enochian. He'd resolved days ago to make sure James grew up fluent in both of his parents' native languages.

Elbowed in the back, Castiel spun around as Dean signaled at Demiel investigating the flowers. They observed--more like spied where they shouldn't--and she rocked her son's car seat with one hand and read the card with the other.

"Good news?" Dean asked through an awkward, lopsided smile.

That time Castiel elbowed him and squinted, silently telling him to keep quiet even though he desperately wanted to know too. Dean shrugged at him as if all too aware of the dumb question. He leaned over and rubbed the back of James' head, which brought out baby giggles. Not that James had a favorite daddy or anything....

"He--your brother, Dean--he apologized for ignoring me all this time, as he put it." Demiel flipped the card over and then touched the buttery yellow petals. They watched her bite her lip. Tension crinkled skin between her eyes as if she forced back emotion that she remained unwilling to express. "Hmm. That was very kind of him. I should call and say thank you."

Exchanging looks, Dean seemed as skeptical as Castiel. She threw Noah's diaper bag over her shoulder, tucked the vase in one arm, and took her fledgling's car seat with the other.

"Demmie--" began Dean.

"--I have a dirty diaper to change. I'll be back once he's settled," she spoke over him.

And just like that, Demiel retreated to her bedroom.

"Was that bad?" Dean whispered to Castiel.

He shrugged and patted James on the bottom. "I don't know. If she's like me a few years ago, she doesn't understand what she's feeling but she's very fearful of his rejection again."

"He's messed up," said Dean.

"We're all messed up in some way," Castiel countered.

*****

Dean's favorite thing to do seemed to be napping with his arm tucked around James's tummy and his hand splayed over his young wing. The way father and son slumbered together with the same relaxed expression and freckle pattern endeared the scene in Castiel's mind each time he witnessed it.

And he'd learned to give them bonding time alone. The way Dean's hand rested on James' downy white wing suggested a purposeful dread as if he knew the day would come when he could no longer see the fledgling's true nature.

"Demiel," he said, poking his head around the corner into the kitchen, "I'm going over to visit Sam since Dean's asleep with the baby. Please tell him so when he wakes."

"I will," she agreed.

Castiel shuffled, hesitant, and squeezed his folded hands. "Is there ... is there anything you'd like me to tell Sam?"

She paused over the stove and he noticed her countenance shift from focus on her boiling pot to nothing on the wall directly in front of her. A deep breath filled her, yet not of weariness or irritation. The breath filled her with courage.

"Tell him I intend to call him after Noah settles tonight. He has a cough again. It might be late for a human sleep cycle, but I intend to try." She nodded to herself, satisfied. "Yes, please tell him that. And I'd like you to come home by seven." She waved a wooden spoon at him in a strikingly maternal human fashion. "I'm cooking dinner. We should eat a little so Dean doesn't feel stared at while sitting at the table. I have things to tell you both tonight."

"Oh? Okay." That intrigued Castiel as he shrugged into his new leather coat for the oncoming winter and grabbed his car keys. He certainly wasn't used to her adopting that assertive, decisive tone either.

"And Cas?"

Hand on the doorknob, he stopped and looked back at her. "Yes?"

"Could you please call me Demmie too?"

"If you like it," he agreed, nodding.

"I do," she admitted. "It's ... my name, you know?"

"I understand." Being called Cas made him feel more like an individual rather than just a heavenly weapon too.

*****

"Seeing you drink a beer is a little weird," Sam said as he leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the table.

It appeared nice and relaxed the way he sat there so casually and Castiel mimicked his pose from the opposite side of the table. He crossed his ankles on the table too and balanced the beer bottle on his thigh. Though Sam couldn’t see it, he took advantage of the wide open basement and stretched his raven black wings. Joints popped, which Sam heard, and looked over his shoulder thinking the contents of the rumbling washer set it off balance.

"I think I like beer. I’m not certain. I drink it with Dean to be sociable but—" he studied the bottle’s label, "—I think I’m starting to view it as a relaxing agent the way humans do."

"What do you mean you’re not certain if you like it?"

"I don’t have the same sense of taste that you do. My vessel tastes what I put into it, of course, but what I am inside tastes the molecular structure of the beer on top of that. Some foods and drinks can be rather overpowering. Things you might enjoy are too intense for me. I prefer food and drink to be simple without complicated ingredients."

"You’re like a meat and potatoes kind of guy," replied Sam with a shrug.

"I suppose so." Castiel didn’t quite know what that meant but he agreed anyway.

The conversation died away as the load in the washer spun through a rinse cycle. Sam had been friendly and welcoming when Castiel arrived but he knew the younger Winchester carried a lot in his mind. It wasn’t just about two women--who weren't exactly women--fighting it out in his thoughts. It ran so much deeper. He questioned himself a great deal since Demiel rather harshly pointed out that he never bothered to get to know her because she wasn’t a damsel in distress for him to rescue, like Hael. Yet he never brought it up with Castiel over beer. He just drifted off in silence from time to time in between idle small talk.

"Where's Bobby?" probed Castiel to fill the silent gap.

"Oh, that storm we had last night? Yeah, lightning split a tree in Jody's backyard and she needed help getting rid of the debris," Sam explained. "I offered to go help but he said he's got it. I think he's trying to prove he's still young and strong or something. Who knows?"

Castiel vaguely remembered the storm and he'd seen damage on the news that morning. Last night he'd still been deeply entrenched in the fledgling-free weekend with Dean, which didn't seem like an appropriate thing to tell Sam even if they were the best of friends. Thing was, Dean and Castiel had a lot of sex that weekend and he barely looked outside.

"Cas?"

"What?"

"You're red. You okay?"

"I'm fine." He plastered a smile and lifted his beer bottle. "I think I'm starting to feel something."

Sam chuckled, honestly chuckled, for the first time in days. "Hey, I’m surprised you didn’t bring my nephew with you. I got him a little stuffed football. You gotta put it in his crib or something, you know, a toy from Uncle Sammy."

Castiel offered a crooked smile. “I think Dean wanted James to himself this afternoon. When I left, they were both very much asleep together.”

"The camping trip was good?"

"As far as I heard," Castiel replied. "The little ones under my roof seem a little calmer at least, which is one of the things that grace bonding with a fledgling is supposed to accomplish."

"Noah?"

Castiel nodded. An unreadable flash of emotion filled Sam’s eyes and then it was gone just as quick. He fought hard to block anything he thought or felt from any eavesdropping angels. Of course Castiel didn’t try to listen in on his inner voice but the temptation remained. It wasn’t his business though.

"How’s Evelyn?" The words fell out quickly and he shifted in the chair.

"She’s good. Developing normally like the others." Treading carefully, Castiel added, "You could always go over and see her if you want. I know you looked after her while Hael was ill."

Sam’s eyes pinched shut and he shook his head. “Hael doesn’t want to see me.”

"To be fair, she’s not herself right now."

"I know," he replied, "and I’m not gonna make it harder for her. I sent her flowers today just to let her know I was thinking about her. Demiel too. I dunno. I’m trying to do better without trying to, uh, save everybody."

"About that," Castiel said, seizing his opportunity and ignoring the revelation that Hael got flowers too. "Demmie asked me to tell you that she intends to call you tonight. She said her fledgling has a cough and it might be late but she intends to call."

"Oh, really?" Sam actually looked him in the eye then and brightened.

"Yes, really."

Castiel never considered himself a judge of anything heartwarming but Sam’s hopeful upturn manifested in a crooked smile. The infectious half-smile spread across the table and the angel found himself smiling as well. Faintly so.

"You’re calling her Demmie now?" He added it as an afterthought.

"Dean started it," replied Castiel, "and she prefers it over her formal name. Actually it’s a sign of developing a sense of individuality. I think it’s best to make an effort to let all of the other angels here identify as they will. Some of the others may choose to shed angelic names too."

Sam nodded but the shadows overtook him again. “Do you think she still, I dunno, thinks bad stuff about me?”

"No. I believe she’s wary of everyone she encounters, as is Hael. The difference between them is Hael undergoing repeated trauma and plummeting into humanity against her will…." Castiel broke off and tried to find the appropriate explanation. "Her sanity is suffering. I can only hope we’ll get her back. The nest, I mean. Demmie's where Hael would be if she hadn’t been so traumatized. They’re more alike than they even know and I believe that’s why they seem to snarl at one another."

"Are we gonna get Hael back, you think?"

"I don’t know, Sam." It wouldn’t do him any good to lie and reassure him that they could fix her damage if they couldn't. The track record for fallen angels wasn't good.

The younger Winchester nodded down at his hands and swallowed more from his beer bottle. He considered the situation for quite a while and Castiel let him do it, patiently sitting with him the way a friend should. And then Sam began to open up. He didn’t ask for it and he didn’t expect it but the instinct of his angelic background proved useful in letting his friend unburden himself. Sam planted his feet on the floor, needing the added stability it seemed, and leaned closer.

"I fell hard for Hael and happened really quick," he admitted haltingly as if he knew he made confession like going to a priest. "Maybe I was just lonely. Maybe Demiel--sorry, Demmie--was right and I saw a pretty girl that needed a hero to rescue her. I dunno. You and Dean were always built to be together, so I did think well why isn’t that something I get to have? She came along. She was pretty and she was interesting and smart and she needed me." Sam huffed a heavy sigh and raked a hand through his dark hair, curling it under the corner of his jaw. "I know I really do have feelings for her, but the thing is, I didn’t really know her that well either. I can’t even explain it."

"You don’t have to," Castiel said quietly.

Another heavy breath huffed through Sam’s barrel chest, cleansing the uncertainty that had collected in him. “I gotta let her go. I know that. She’s nowhere near ready for a guy, or girl, or whatever she ends up wanting. It’s just a lot harder than I expected to let go of her. It pisses me off that I don’t even know myself well enough to tell if I fell for her or the idea of her. Whatever it is, letting go of her….” Dark laughter bubbled up from his throat. “It’s a hell of a thing. Almost like quitting the blood.”

Comparing his attraction to Hael to his problems with demon blood addiction stunned Castiel into silence.

"But this really cool girl was there the whole time and she’s probably more compatible with me—I mean, let’s be honest—yet I never even noticed her." He shook his head at himself and continued spilling his guts there in the basement. "She was right to call me out on my bullshit. I wanna get to know her but I can’t forget Hael either."

Castiel listened but he also wondered to himself if Sam even realized most of what he said already came out in slurred confusion at the bar. He'd been so drunk, though, that Castiel doubted he remembered anything from that night.

"I’m stuck, Cas," he said quietly. "You know, if I start going over there to see Demmie, then everybody’s gonna think I dumped Hael just because she’s losing her grip on reality."

"But you can’t dump someone who wasn’t yours," Castiel pointed out in a gentle tone, yet kept his words sharply honest. "Yes, you were intensely attracted to Hael and perhaps you loved her, but you weren’t engaged in a close amorous bond together. You were friends as you are friends now. The friendship hasn't changed. If you truly feel that it's a bad idea to pursue a romantic relationship with Hael, then you need to teach yourself to be satisfied with simply being her friend."

"I know." Nodding, Sam took it in. "I do wanna be her friend. I wanna be Demmie's friend too. At least for now. Both of them are great. I just don't wanna get hurt and I don't wanna hurt anyone either. It bugs the shit outta me that I've been hurting Demmie this whole time without even knowing it."

"Perhaps you should go on a hunt. Clear your head for a few weeks away from the nest."

Brows arched and mouth poured outward, Sam appeared to like that idea. “You could be onto something there. Go out of town, kill a few monsters, maybe have a waitress or something…. Don’t look at me like that. Sometimes getting a girl out of your system involves a rebound one night stand. Dean used to do that too.”

Castiel's brow furrowed, unhappy with hearing that. He drank half of his beer in one long swallow. "Well," he said, his mouth turning upward in a sly moment, "he doesn't need strangers anymore. He's perfectly satisfied now. Blissfully so."

"Ugh, you're grossing me out. Don't give me that image!" A full body laugh possessed Sam and he tossed his head back with the most disgusted strain across his eyes. "Oh man, I need to go out of town just to scrub my brain with out-of-town-bleach. Thanks, Cas."

Chuckling, Castiel twisted his beer bottle on the table. "I have such rare opportunities to attempt humor."

"You win," he replied, still laughing. "That was good. Awful but good."

"Oh, for crying out loud! Is this what you guys do for fun? Sitting around drinking beer and whining about women and what people might think? No wonder you Winchesters are big ol' trees of brooding sappiness."

Simultaneously, Sam and Castiel jumped to their feet. The intruder swooped into the basement--small in vessel but mighty in archangel wings. Gabriel didn't actually mean what he said. His sniping tone was never that serious, but Sam's face jerked into irritation once he recognized the visitor.

"Don't you knock?" he snapped.

"Relax, big boy. I'm not staying. Just came to grab your friend here," said Gabriel, jerking his chin at Castiel. "We've got business. Let's go."

"I can't go anywhere," Castiel argued. "I have a child at home and I have to be back by seven."

"Oh my God." Rolling his eyes, Gabriel grabbed him by the elbow. "I didn't wanna have to pull the dad voice on you but that's all you seem to understand anymore. Young man, you're coming with me right now. Don't argue!"

A gust of wing sailed through Castiel's black wings, spreading them twenty feet wide, and they were gone.

Chapter Text

A vacuum sensation drew Castiel southward, led by Gabriel's unrelenting grip on his vessel's forearm. They landed abruptly, his vision assaulted by a blur of bright color bursts, and he stumbled to the side. Only an immovable white display case broke his fall.

"Geez, Cas, you gotta get out and fly more often. You're getting flabby."

Gabriel snapped his fingers. Frozen people in mid-stride came to life again, like pressing play on the DVR at home. They had no conception of an archangel bending time long enough to sneak another angel into that ... that ... where were they exactly? Castiel took in images of tourists filling bag after bag of far too many types of sugary treats. Giant decorative lollipops exploded toward the ceiling from a white, round display case containing a dozen different kinds of candy. He realized it was some sort of specialty store selling nothing but junk, which made him fear for the health of most of the shoppers.

"Miami's a kick ass playground," Gabriel commented with a gleeful twinkle in his eye. He grabbed a coconut and chocolate candybar and unwrapped it. "I know the owner of this place. Some fashion designer's daughter. This is how you spend inheritance money."

"Why are we here?" demanded Castiel. "I don't have time for this."

With a chuckle, the archangel slapped a plastic bag against Castiel's chest. "Relax. Grab your boy toy some candy. We're a little early."

"Early for what?" As much as he hated to admit it, he knew Dean would enjoy the gift of assorted candy. It was the one thing he really had in common with Gabriel.

"Meeting a friend," replied Gabriel, distracted by red licorice.

Skeptical, Castiel's brow furrowed and he peered over his shoulder. Nevertheless, he remembered how much Dean enjoyed the taste of caramel, at least, and poured cubes of sticky treat covered in chocolate halfway up the bag.

"Relax," the archangel repeated as if he felt eyes on him and switched subjects with the attention span of a child. "That emo redwood tree needs to get laid pronto. Is he always so whiny?"

"Sam? He's not whiny. He's struggling to find his place among us now that the dynamic with his brother has changed." Chocolate covered blueberries caught Castiel's eye as he spoke. He plucked a bag from the shelf, intrigued, and, okay, maybe a candy shop wasn't such a bad place to visit after all.

"You mean now that they're not attached at the hip all the time. I gotta tell ya, some of us upstairs used to wonder if there wasn't some kind of Borgias thing going on there."

"Borgias?"

"You know, Game of Thrones... The Borgias...." He waited for Castiel to catch on, but when he didn't grasp it, Gabriel scoffed and shook his head. "Don't you ever watch TV? Those shows have the sibling love. And, yanno, they weren't too far off with Cesare and Lucrezia."

Castiel blinked, dumbfounded, and his jaw slacked. "Sam and Dean never had an incestuous relationship!"

A woman passing through the aisle behind Castiel gasped in horror and clapped her hands over her child's ears. He gave a shaky, apologetic smile as she hustled the child away.

"I'm thinking this isn't the appropriate venue to discuss Heaven's unfortunate taste for gossip," he hissed through his teeth at the archangel.

"Wait, wait." Stiff and focused, Gabriel snatched a fistful of Castiel's sleeve and nodded toward the door. "There."

"There what?"

"The cupcake in pink over there."

The woman wasn’t a woman at all but an angel occupying a rather high maintenance vessel. Cuban, he guessed. Luxurious round curves filled out a bubblegum pink fitted dress that cut rather high on the thigh. Miami women certainly preferred brighter expressions of color than South Dakota women. She resembled one of the models pretending to be angels in Victoria’s Secrets ads more than her actual species. Yet there they were—enormous wings the color of a creamy dove.

"I know that angel," Castiel blurted in a low whisper.

"I know," replied Gabriel. "She told me."

Angelic ears heard them across the store and she waved, weaving through people to meet them in quite a display of human behavior. Castiel stared in disbelief. It was definitely the angel he knew once he got a closer look at the grace hiding inside of coffee colored human eyes.

"I almost couldn’t get away. They certainly know where I am now," she told Gabriel, and then looked Castiel’s way. "It’s good to see you again."

"I thought you were dead, Bethel," he said, stunned. "I mourned you."

"Yeah," she acknowledged, nodding a bit shamefully. "After the Black Death, I was reassigned and it required me to disappear, so to speak. They didn’t give me a choice. I’ve had a pass to Earth the last century to … finesse a few things. When I heard Gabriel reach out to me … Well, I want to help."

"What do you mean they reassigned you?"

"Hey," Gabriel interrupted, clearing his throat and slapping Castiel on the back of his shoulder, "c’mon, let’s go try out the bar over there. They’ve got candy cocktails. I think I’m gonna need a drink."

Arguing wouldn't help anything and Castiel knew better than to try and dissuade Gabriel from his whims, so he followed them. They settled at a small, round table in colorful chairs after the archangel chose a candy cocktail for each of them. He gave Castiel something with mango in it, which tasted okay, not that he'd admit it. It wasn't a social gathering. Looking at Bethel in that vessel unnerved him. No, he wasn't at all interested in small talk.

He tried it again. "What do you mean they reassigned you?"

Sighing, Bethel swallowed a generous portion from her martini glass. "I'm in intelligence now. Or I was, at least."

"Meaning?"

She cocked her head, looking him dead in the eye with the kind of attitude that told him it should have been obvious. "Did you think our superiors knew everything about everyone all these millennia because they did the work?"

Gabriel scoffed. "Yeah, right."

"There exists angelic intelligence within our kind. Several of us--I don't know how many--were chosen to function in espionage, as snipers when necessary, in pulling certain strings to enable foretold world events, and so on. It's our business to know your business and report it to the superiors pending further action," she explained. "Not bad for just another grunt in your garrison once upon a time, huh?"

"You were never just another grunt in my garrison," Castiel replied quietly, flooded with ancient memories. "I would have died in the war with Lucifer if you hadn't...." The awful recollection overtook him. An angel who sided with Lucifer trapped him, seeing quite a prize in a garrison officer, until Bethel threw herself over him. The blast of deadly energy meant to eviscerate him targeted her instead and she'd died wrapped in his wings. Or so he thought. "They faked your death to reassign you in so-called intelligence."

"I'm not the only one." Hesitation dropped her gaze to the table, and then she went on, saying, "Many of the difficulties the Winchesters endured during the apocalypse were due to my actions under orders."

Castiel's eyes narrowed, torn between relief that Bethel hadn't been killed in action after all and a flare of rage that she inflicted suffering on Dean and Sam once. His silence turned cold and dark, conveying his exact sentiments on that confession.

"You were playing fate," he said.

She rolled her eyes and exchanged a smirk with Gabriel. "No, no. Castiel, you misunderstand. The chain of command was rearranged before the apocalypse to prepare for it. Those fate sisters were ordered to report to me. I reported directly to the superiors. I delegated responsibilities to those three prima donnas. They still hate the new system, of course, but the changes were necessary, or so I was told. I followed all of my orders ... until it came to killing Dean Winchester."

"Excuse me?" Castiel leaned forward, predatory surges coursing through his grace.

"Orders were handed down," she explained, steady yet with a well-hidden glimpse of fear. "We'd captured Dean and your fledgling."

Castiel remembered. They'd used Hetanel to lure them out into the open and then kidnapped Dean and James. He fought--they all fought--and Hetanel proved his worth to the forming nest in his defense of it.

Bethel continued over his recollections. "The superiors knew you'd build a nest if given the chance. We saw it happening as you searched for the other angels who defected with their fledglings. Building nests is our instinct, and once that happened, they knew they couldn't reach you. Violence upon fledgling nests is forbidden." She sighed and swallowed the rest of her colorful drink, which Gabriel then took the empty glass and left to buy her another one. "Dean was supposed to die that day in order to break your morale and force you into returning home. But I couldn't carry out my orders. You were a good commander to me, much more fair than those above me now, and I disobeyed because you would have done the same. I passed down my own orders not to kill Dean and those angels you fought in the warehouse believed the orders came from our superiors. When Heaven understood what I did, they put a bounty on my head. Gabriel has been hiding me ever since."

"I see." Castiel didn't know what to say. He thought he had a handle on the chain of command in Heaven and how the political system operated in God's absence. "Why are you coming forward now? You should have remained in hiding. Certainly they know you're here now."

"A good soldier never hides from a fight for long." It was an ironic show of bravery coming from a vessel wearing a skin tight hot pink mini-dress and long acrylic nails. "And a good soldier never abandons a worthy commander even if they're the only two left on the battlefield. I'm here now because, before I left, I heard what the new plan was to break up your nest and I think it's my duty to tell you everything I know."

"Oh," said Castiel, suddenly realizing another piece of the puzzle. "You were the one giving Gabriel information."

"That's her!" Appearing at the table again, Gabriel gave them a thin smile as he handed out another round of bright candy drinks. "Now, Cas, you're not gonna hold grudges for the Dean thing. Loverboy didn't get killed because Bethel disobeyed. You follow? We're gonna get along like one big dysfunctional on-the-run family."

"I follow." Yeah, Castiel needed a drink for once. Mango goodness slid down his throat from the martini glass with just a pinch of alcohol.

"They're trying to break up the nest. Getting one or more severed from the rest of you by a falling out or betrayal or something of that nature will put cracks in the whole thing." Bethel drank too, like washing away her personal sense of guilt. "It's different now. All of you are marked for execution. It's not even about dragging you back to Heaven and forcing obedience on you again. They want each of you dead."

Only one thing truly mattered to him. "What about our children?"

Bethel's eyes slid to Gabriel and back again, hesitant and honestly disgusted with what she had to say. "If they don't catch you soon, they'll consider your fledglings too far gone to reprogram into obedience and their lives will be terminated as well."

Someone might as well have drained the blood from Castiel's vessel through his feet. Just the thought of someone else putting a hand on his child filled him with the kind of blazing rage that made his hands clench at the table. A hand gripping the glass broke the stem and sliced into his palm, though he didn't even flinch. He felt nothing. Of course he knew Heaven probably wanted him dead--when didn't they?--but he never thought they'd go so low as to kill innocent babies. Their fledglings hadn't done anything disobedient at all. He raged. He barely kept his composure there in the Miami candy shop.

"Cas...." The careful tone in Gabriel's voice gave no indication of humor or teasing as his hand fell over Castiel's forearm. Such a small gesture could never really restrain a hurricane in a vessel, but Castiel anchored himself to the archangel who had raised him, knowing a violent rampage would only put the children deeper in danger in the end.

"I still have my powers," Bethel said carefully, "and they can't touch Gabriel's powers, but I don't know how long the rest of you will have yours. They were debating about cutting you all off from Heaven's grace to make you more vulnerable. That was a few months ago."

"One of us has been cut off," he said.

"Hael." Nodding, she sipped her drink again. "I expected that. She murdered one of the highest ranking superiors in order to escape."

"As far as I know, the rest of us still have our graces in tact."

Relief calmed her clenched features. "Good." A heavy sigh renewed the life in her face and she leaned back in her chair. "I will do all that I can to help you, Castiel. You comforted me in what I thought were my moments of dying and that was a time when our kind never displayed that kind of emotional attachment to other beings. What you taught me--" her voice broke away for a moment, "--I never forgot it and I want future generations to know that kind of compassion too."

"My rebellious nature came from the one who raised me as a fledgling," admitted Castiel quietly, although he and Gabriel had been parted by harsh differences many times over the centuries.

Gabriel shrugged and smirked. "I do what I can."

"You need to keep your nest together at all costs. It's your only defense right now," advised Bethel, her face hardening with resolve. "Soon I intend to go back and attempt negotiations. A deal has to be met. This can't go on forever and there has to be some bargain that can end this awful standoff."

"No," Castiel argued, "you can't go back. They'll kill you for disobeying."

"Not if I go with her," interjected Gabriel in a cool, conversational tone as he sorted his chosen candy loot into piles. "Superiors or not, nobody would dare touch an angel under my wing except God himself and we all know dear ol' Dad ain't coming back."

"Oh! I nearly forgot." Bethel's fingers slipped into her vessel's ample cleavage and produced a folded piece of paper. "You need this."

Castiel unfolded the notepad sheet and looked over a list of six names and addresses. "What is this?"

"You need a fallen angel to counsel Hael," Gabriel said.

"I didn't ask--"

"--You're praying, Cas. You don't realize it but you've been praying a lot lately. Luckily I caught on and funneled all that stuff toward me before it got to Heaven." Gabriel's eyes deepened through wrinkles with his jovial kind of smile. "And really, man, you can stop praying thank yous when you get your groove on with Dean. I may not be your actual dad but it still skeeves me out."

It occurred to Castiel that he'd never felt real human embarrassment before, but there it was, and he cupped his hand over his forehead and chuckled at himself. "Thanks for the names," he said to them both through lingering chuckles, trying to bring the conversation back to protecting his nest, "but how do you know where they are?"

"It was my job. Intelligence. Espionage. I tracked every fallen angel since I took this position," she said without emotion. "Some of them didn't fall by choice. Those would be the top four on the list. The apocalypse spawned quite a bit of rebellion and the ones who weren't executed were sentenced to endure the end times as human beings. When you and the Winchesters derailed the end times, they realized they were doomed to live out mortal lives, and they're all at different stages of adapting to it. The one up to there--he's doing okay--but the others are struggling."

"Nothing like Hael though," said Gabriel. "That guy though. He can probably help her get her sanity back in order."

Nodding, Castiel folded the paper and stuck it in his jeans pocket. "Thank you both for this."

"No problem," the archangel replied.

"I have really got to find something different to wear now," Bethel declared, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. "I can't fight in a dress this small. Let's get out of here. If I'm earthbound for the foreseeable future, I need to make this vessel more practical."

"I dunno," teased Gabriel, giving her the once over. "Miss Carmen Alvarez seems rather proud of her body. Not that I blame her. Just look."

"Pretty," Castiel muttered, completely unattracted.

"Well, I'd like to give Carmen her body back in one piece. She'll have to get used to more practical attire should I have to fight at some point." Bethel gave Castiel a friendly eye. "You coming, Castiel?"

"No, I need to get home," he said. The idea of shopping for female clothes didn't exactly appeal to him anyway.

A little smile played Bethel's shiny pink lips. "You really are a family man now. Can't stay away from your fledgling too long, can you?" She chuckled, light and airy, as they left the table and empty glasses behind. "You were such a legendary field commander too. Giving it all up to help change Heaven's future doesn't make sense to anyone up there, but they didn't serve under you either. I did. It was always in you to do something magnificent to change the status quo."

Castiel offered her a smile in return, one that conveyed forgiveness and gratitude that she saved Dean's life for him.

"I'll see you soon," she said. "My cell phone number's on that list."

*****

A short walk across one of Miami's beaches help Castiel clear his mind before he disappeared bound for South Dakota again. Keeping the nest together at all costs resonated in his mind over and over again, should any of the superiors seize the opportunity to execute any of them.

Castiel came home to an apartment in chaos. Laughter bubbled voraciously from Demiel's belly with her knees bent and her body tipped back. She stood at the mouth of the hallway as if she'd just crossed the living room to have a look at the noise rolling from the bedrooms. Stepping into the apartment and shutting the front door didn't even distract her from those belly laughs. Somewhere in the back, Dean shouted in disgust. Noah, the most laid back baby Castiel ever knew, squealed in the infant swing as if he tried to laugh like a grown human.

"What's going on?" Castiel probed through the noise.

Suddenly Dean stomped out of James' nursery and slapped a towel on his thigh. Bowlegs seemed wider whenever he got frustrated. A large dark stain covered the chest of his t-shirt down to his abdomen and he pointed to the mess, irritated.

"He peed on me!" Dean barked.

Without waiting for a response, he stomped off to the bathroom. A second later the t-shirt flung through the door into the hallway. The situation clearly had Demiel in stitches and she doubled over with renewed laughter. Even Castiel cracked a smile and let a chuckle escape, knowing how much Dean hated touching bodily fluids or anything else he deemed germy.

"Your son peed on Zeppelin!" shouted Dean from in the shower. "I can't wear that shirt again and it was awesome!"

Castiel dissolved into laughter and Demiel clutched his shoulder, laughing with him. Although Dean turned blustery and grumbled about it, Castiel knew by his tone that he wasn't really angry. Dean's baby boy, in all honestly, could do no wrong.

"Put a diaper on him! He's freeballin' naked in the crib!" Steam escaped from the bathroom. Dean hadn't bothered to shut the door in his rush to shower. "I hear you laughing! Go on, keep it up, Cas! You've got diaper duty the rest of the week now!" Muttering rumbled around the shower as Dean mourned his favorite band. "Oh man, my Zep shirt. Not my Zep shirt."

Castiel had no idea how bad he needed that laugh after his day.

Chapter Text

"I'm impressed you made it home by seven, Cas," said Demiel as she dished out mashed potatoes on three plates. "I expected you to come home in the middle of the night saying you had things to do."

"I went to Miami. Dean--" he passed James down to his other father, sitting at the table with wet hair fresh from the shower, "--take the baby. I have something for you." Quickly, he grabbed the bag of chocolate covered caramel and the bag of chocolate covered blueberries. "You seem to like these things. The blueberries were my choice."

James fat little legs clamped around Dean's thigh and he sat upright against his father's belly with a hand secured around his middle. The odd expression as Dean accepted the caramel meant he struggled to piece it together.

"Gabriel and I went together to Miami this afternoon," he said to the blank expression.

"...Oh," Dean replied, still lost. "Thanks, babe."

Nodding and a bit fidgety--more so than he intended--Castiel pulled up the chair next to Dean's at the table. "We need to talk."

"Shit," blurted the hunter as he dropped the candy on the table. "I knew that was too easy."

"No, no, no! My news first. Please. It's important for everyone." It had been the reason Demiel requested they sit down to dinner that night.

"You're right. You have the floor first," Dean decided. His eyes went wide and he nearly let the baby flop out of his lap as he realized what she'd made for dinner. "Oh shit! You made ribs!"

"Dean, language," corrected Castiel with a subtle smile.

"But she made ribs, Cas. Ribs."

If Demiel hadn't learned the human tendency toward pride in her work, she learned it at that moment. Presenting Dean with a solid helping of meat and potatoes warmed him like a skittish kitten with new owners. A broad smile framed Demiel's dark skin, though not the same coloring as Bethel's Cuban vessel was, lending to the idea that she inhabited perhaps a Puerto Rican vessel. The different shades of humanity had always been God's greatest work of art in Castiel's mind. He even noticed a bit of painted berry color on Demiel's lips and blackness coating her lashes. Those things never escaped his attention when it came to his nest--signs of angels embracing that new life on Earth.

She scooped her fledgling off the play blanket on the living room floor and brought him to the table. On her lap, Noah gnawed on his drooly fist as he watched Castiel across the table. And Dean, growing into domesticity more by the day, unconsciously kept James from grabbing at his fork and hurting himself.

"Okay, so," began Demiel with a deep breath, "I've come up with what I think is a great idea to motivate our whole nest into staying together and living successfully here."

Dean's brow arched. "I'm all ears, Demmie."

"Me too," Castiel agreed.

"Before I say what it is, though, I want to be clear that I'm going to do the work to get everything started. I'm not going to put that on you two when this is my idea," she said as if they might reject her idea before she even described it in any detail. Taking another breath, she continued. "My purpose in this world appears to be cooking and feeding people. It's the one thing I'm good at besides combat. I don't want to go back to it. I only went into the specialized garrison because I was ordered to it, not because I crave violence. So what I want to do with my new purpose is open a diner--an old-fashioned kind, like the one in that movie, Fried Green Tomatoes. This is something we can all do together, like a family business, that will financially sustain those of us who stay behind whenever others go off hunting."

"A diner..." Considering the proposition, Dean's attention deferred to Castiel as it always did. "What do you think?"

"I like the idea of all of us moving toward the same goal," replied Castiel with an honest shrug. "Mael is already a waitress, so that's helpful. I don't know anything about human business practices though. Not a single thing."

"It takes money to make money," Dean said with a deep breath of his own as he dug into his food. "Doing it sounds awesome. I mean, hell, I love cooking too. I started you on it, Demmie." He gestured to her with his fork. "Making it a reality, though, I dunno how we could do that. No bank's gonna give Sammy or me loans based on shitty Winchester credit, and none of you angels have credit history even if you have IDs and fake paper trails."

"Oh, I already have a financial backer," Demiel announced as if it wasn't a big deal at all.

Both Dean and Castiel froze and stared at her, dumbfounded. "Who?" they blurted simultaneously.

"It's what you humans call a silent partner. I can't say who."

"You can't ... what?" Castiel didn't understand and his face twisted hard. He couldn't imagine how quiet, demure little Demiel managed to wrangle such a major deal on her own. "Who could you possibly know? Are you bringing a stranger into the nest?"

"Yeah," grunted Dean between bites, "Cas is right. He and I really should check anybody out before they get anywhere near our kids."

"You already know the backer. I would never dare bring possible danger to our little ones. That's all I'm going to say for now, except please just trust me on this one, okay?"

If they already knew the backer, then it had to be either Bobby or Gabriel, and Castiel knew neither of them would want to be identified. So he let it go and nodded. Dean opened his mouth to argue but he slid a hand over the table and gripped the hunter's wrist, carefully asking him to let it go too. They exchanged looks--one question and one answer--each of them communicating without a word.

Demiel pretended not to see it and carried on with her plan. "Everything I have as far as learning material came from your mother, Dean, so I was thinking the diner should be called something like Mary's Kitchen. The food we'd serve would come from her cookbooks, after all."

Right then and there, Castiel knew Dean handed over his complete support. His mother meant more to him than anything in his past. Invoking her memory for the new direction of his family left him speechless and willing to help. Quiet and reflective about the living memorial to Mary Winchester, her oldest son nodded.

"You're confident you can do it?" Castiel asked.

"Yes," she replied confidently. "I've been doing business research since I realized I'm good at cooking. I can do it."

"No more secrets," added Dean in a strict tone. "From now on, Cas and I are involved in every step you take. We have to protect this family. I think it's a good idea, though, and I kinda dig the idea of people eating my mom's food. Hell, if it turns into a popular thing, our kids could take over someday. I mean, if they want."

"Yes, I think so too," Demiel agreed, eyes shining with real joy. "I'm so glad the both of you are willing to let me try."

Unfortunately, Castiel had to deliver his news, which wasn't nearly as good as Demiel's contribution to the evening. He cleared his throat and decided it was time to put everything about Bethel on the table. Beside him, Dean sensed it and looked his way.

"What's up?" he asked.

"It's not exactly pleasant...." Castiel said hesitantly.

Immediate soberness came over Demiel. She gave Castiel her undivided attention once she scooted Noah up on her lap.

"Keeping our nest together no matter what is more important than ever and I'm actually quite glad Demmie had this idea," he explained, drawing from their conversation. "Someone in my past caught up with me today. This is why I was in Miami with Gabriel. A long time ago, an angel called Bethel served under me in my garrison and she--well, she's in a female vessel--she once died to save my life. At least, I thought she was dead...."

And for the rest of the evening, Castiel explained everything he knew about Bethel and her rebellion to save Dean along with the whole of their nest.

*****

"You sure you don't need a hand? ... Okay. ... Yeah, I'll tell 'em. You better check in when you get there. ... Uh-huh. ... And you better call if you get into trouble. Yup. Bye." Dean, sitting on the bed with his legs folded under him, ended the cell phone call and plugged it into the charger on the nightstand.

Swaying back and forth through the bedroom, Castiel tried to get James to sleep. "Did Sam find a case?" The fledgling stretched and squirmed in his arms, and he let out a long whining sort of cry. It promised to be a long night.

"Yeah, all the way over in Idaho," Dean replied. "How'd you know what he'd doing?"

"We talked," he said without elaborating.

Pausing, Dean looked Castiel over from his perch on the bed. "He's running away again, isn't he?"

"No," corrected Castiel almost defiantly. "He's going away for a little while to gain perspective on what he wants for this new part of his life. That's not the same as running away. I know what you're thinking but trust me when I say it's not like those other times before. Your brother just needs more breathing room to think than you do."

Dean nodded. "I can dig that, I guess. As long as he's coming back."

"He's coming back," reassured the angel. Attention shifted to the baby. "Help me. I think he has gas again."

"It's not the same cry." Sliding off the bed, Dean came along and took the baby angel into the crook of his arm. A free hand rubbed his little tummy, making James cry harder from deep down. "What's wrong, Squirt? Your belly aching tonight?" Dean rubbed a little more, but then his fingers pressed here and there, searching the soft baby tissue. "Oh, it feels like he's constipated. When did you have your last poopy diaper?"

"Um...." Castiel thought about it. "Two mornings ago."

"My last one was night before last. Okay. Switching formula was a bad idea then," Dean said apologetically to the unhappy baby.

"You changed formula brands?"

He gave a guilty shrug. "It was less expensive. Don't you look at the labels? I thought you noticed the switch."

"Usually he's fussing and wriggling in one arm and I don't have time or patience to read labels," Castiel said, mildly irritated. He caressed the top of James' head and tenderly rubbed the sweet, soft black hair. "Is this serious? How sick is he?"

"It's fine, Cas. Chill. We're gonna make him a bottle with the old formula and put a little Kayro syrup in it. That'll get the pipes moving again. I read it in one of those kid books over there." As he left the room headed for the kitchen, Dean gestured to the bookshelf Castiel had carefully arranged. Books about infants occupied one corner. "You coming, Cas? You gotta learn to make a constipation bottle."

"Coming," replied Castiel, following him to the kitchen.

Life carried on for Castiel's nest of angels and fledglings. Sam hit the road for Idaho that night chasing a flesh-eating monster, while Castiel observed Dean treat their little one's constipation with a special bottle and tummy rubs. Somewhere out there beyond the starry sky, angels Castiel once respected stood together and plotted the murders of his new family members. And somewhere in the world that night, Gabriel worked behind the scenes fighting for Castiel the way he should have always done as a father figure. All of them moved, separately and together, toward ideas of what life really meant for both humans and angels.

Chapter Text

"Then are we all in favor of investing our nest's time and resources into Demmie's diner proposal?"

A nest of six angels sat cross-legged in a circle with each of their fledglings occupying their laps. Castiel expected that week would be the last of their meetings on the playground before winter made it far too cold for their little ones. He and Demiel both glanced from face to face expectantly as the others nodded in agreement. There had been a bit of a presentation which she agonized over for the entire week beforehand, but it seemed to have won over the remainder of the nest.

"I'm so glad," she said in breathy relief. A smile brightened the chocolatey luster of her eyes.

In truth, Castiel looked forward to having all six of them moving in the same direction rather than living as a scattered band of fugitives with small children. It pleased him to have the others on board. Angels always functioned better when they had tasks set out before them.

"I could decorate," offered Hael in a small voice.

"Yes," Demiel replied, giving no hint of her ill feelings where Hael and Sam were concerned. "You'd be well-suited for such a job."

The new human formed a dim smile of her own. Evelyn reached up into the red hair dangling over Hael's shoulders and she picked up her fledgling. Little feet bounced on her knee.

"All right," Castiel said, redirecting the proceedings to wrap up more business. "Dean tells me this is the beginning of cold and flu season. While we're immune to human illnesses, it's important to remember our fledglings are contained in human form at the moment. They're prone to illness as we have seen from a few already. Noah in particular frequently contends with respiratory problems. We should be aware of the discomfort colds and flus can bring even if they can't really harm our children."

Damiel's demure voice picked up from there as she passed around computer printouts. "I've composed a list of medications and what ailments they relieve. Not everything in the pharmacy is safe for infants but these things have relieved Noah's symptoms. There are homeopathic ideas listed as well. And you all should have my phone number if you have questions."

"This will be helpful for me now, I suppose," mumbled Hael as she read over her printout.

Stillness fell over the other five angels with the harsh reminder of her unfortunate humanity. That day she seemed more aware of her surroundings, at least, and willing to be an active parent. Some days Mael acted as mother both to her own child as well as her twin's child. Though Hael remained unaware of it for the moment, Castiel arranged for one of the fallen angels on the list Bethel recommended to come and help her transition from immortality to mortality.

"Oh, and one more thing," added Castiel. "I believe the children will begin solid foods in the next four weeks or so. Pay attention to the frequency of hunger and whether they seem satisfied after they've eaten. When bottles don't seem to be enough is when we'll begin introducing infant food. James has been grabbing at Dean's forks and spoons. We think he's almost ready, so yours shouldn't be too far behind him."

"Are you speaking of the jarred food in the infant section of the grocery store?" asked Timaniel. He was the slowest to catch onto human concepts of them all.

"Yes," Castiel replied. "Some humans choose to make their own infant food. I doubt it matters so much with our children so long as their developing graces are being nourished with enough honey and crushed rose petals."

A silent hand rose from Demiel.

"Of course you're going to make your own infant food," teased Hetanel through a good-natured smile. "Is there anything you can't do, Martha Stewart?"

Timaniel's face crinkled in confusion. "Who's that?"

"It's not just me planning to make food," she teased back. "Dean said he doesn't want his kid pumped full of chemicals and hormones, so we're going to make food together."

"Her prowess in the kitchen is really his fault," Castiel said, smirking.

*****

No one expected Hael to pull herself together that weekend for the autumn art festival, but there she was, directing Hetanel as he displayed her paintings around her booth. Castiel stood across the gravel path with Dean as the hunter changed James' diaper on a picnic table. He watched her like a ticking timebomb.

"Cas?"

Oh, right. He was engaged in a phone conversation. "I'm here, Sam."

"I said is she pretty with it today?" repeated Sam through the earpiece.

"Yes...." Castiel hesitated. "I have Hetanel with her serving in a companion role in case she begins to slip. I believe the root of her problem is crippling anxiety among other things. She's been more functional if we keep her mind occupied."

"Yeah, I can see how keeping her busy would help." It sounded like he was driving. A low rumble reverberated through his words.

"Ask him how the job's going," said Dean at the picnic table, popping open the travel bag of baby wipes singlehandedly with the baby's ankles gripped in the other. To James, he mumbled, "Geez, it's like a poop bomb went off in your diaper, Squirt. I'd be impressed if it wasn't so nasty. That tummy feeling better?"

"Dean wants to know how you're progressing with your hunt," reported Castiel to the younger brother in Idaho.

"Pretty typical. I'm on my way to question the doctor who performed the autopsies. There wasn't too much left of the bodies though. Flesh-eating monsters don't leave anything behind. I'm surprised there was anything left this time, so I'm guessing the thing got interrupted by a witness." He sighed heavily. As much as the job felt necessary for Sam, it also left him feeling disillusioned by the suffering of others. "Listen, Cas, I gotta get going. Can you put Hael on the phone for a minute?"

Castiel didn't know if it was a good idea to let Sam talk to the person he tried to escape, but he knew better than to push a Winchester too hard. "All right. Just a moment."

Crossing the gravel path, Castiel leaned into the tented booth and handed his iPhone off to the frazzled artist. She accepted it, though not without a questioning head tilt, and retreated out through the rear tent flap.

"Sam?" asked Hetanel.

"Sam," Castiel admitted. "Is she doing all right?"

"Mostly. There’s difficulty in making even the simplest decisions. I’m giving her chances to try on her own and sometimes she gets overwhelmed so I decide certain things for her," the angel in a Northern Cheyenne vessel reported as he adjusted an easel to face people strolling by the booth. "She seems tired as well. It’s—what—almost eight now. That’s early for human sleep cycles, I guess. And she hates being asked if she’s tired, so I advise against it."

"Understood." Castiel nodded and peeked around back of the booth where she spoke on the phone. "The fallen one confirmed he’ll arrive tomorrow. He assured me that he can help Hael cope with humanity."

"I hope so." Though Hetanel didn’t seem terribly convinced, his accepting nature was open to the idea. "Bethel certainly was kind to offer assistance. I remember meeting her once. We crossed paths as our kind assisted the Egyptians in establishing civilization."

"Our existence was simpler back then," Castiel mused quietly to himself.

"Yeah but I wouldn’t trade my little girl for anything now."

"Nor would I trade my son." Contentment tugged at Castiel as he glanced over his shoulder at Dean buttoning up James' jeans.

Hael threw back the tent flap and came into the booth from the rear again. The iPhone gripped at her side, she hid her eyes from both of them, which, of course, drew Castiel’s attention. Distress shadowed her face as she handed the iPhone back to him.

"Thank you," she mumbled.

Immediately, Hetanel abandoned one of the paintings and put a hand on her back. “Are you okay?”

"Yeah."

A flare of orange curled up over her new, faint soul and both of the angels saw it. Orange often eluded to dishonesty in humans. She verbalized something that wasn’t entirely true within herself and the two angels exchanged looks.

"Did Sam say something upsetting?" Castiel pressed in an even tone.

"No, not exactly. He wished me luck and apologized for not being here. I said it’s not a big deal, to which he said it is a big deal and that I’m brave for trying to put my paintings out there." Tears spilled down her cheeks and she wiped her fingers beneath her eyes, baffled by her own body. "Why am I reacting this way? This is ridiculous. He said a nice thing. It wasn’t mean. I think my body is broken."

Castiel resisted the urge to back away, never certain of how to deal with human tears. When James cried, he cuddled the fledgling until he stopped. He didn’t think Hael would welcome a cuddling like that.

On the other hand, it seemed Hetanel understood. He’d always had a better grip on humanity while working so long among them. An understanding nod accompanied tucking her hair behind her ear. It gave him the presence of a protective older brother as he said, "It’s relief. Sam gave you permission to feel pride in your work. Don’t worry. It’s okay to be proud of yourself."

Oh. That made sense. Castiel wondered why he didn’t pick up on something that seemed so obvious and simple. Walking through the first weeks of humanity with Hael reminded him exactly how far he remained from being human himself even though he felt closer than ever while living with Dean. Still, he reached over the table and caressed Hael’s hand. Soon help would arrive for her in the form of another fallen angel called Eddie.

"Enough tears," Hael said abruptly, shaking off both of them. "I have to finish setting up. Festival opens at ten."

"All right, then," replied Hetanel with a shrug, trying to bring light and humor into the booth. "The queen has spoken."

*****

"Shh, don't wake up the rugrats," whispered Dean as they let themselves into the dark apartment.

"Noah can sleep through a tornado." Somehow Demiel managed to carry her fledgling in one arm with his empty car seat over the other. "I don't think the little ones have ever been so thoroughly worn out."

Dean hadn't bothered bringing in James' car seat. Instead, he carried his boy against his shoulder, a protective hand cupped over the back of the fledgling's head and a forearm folded under his little bottom. Sweet pearly wings fell limp against his chest as the infant slumbered in complete trust and relaxation on his father.

"Do you want me to put him down?" asked Castiel as he switched on the living room lamps.

"I got it," Dean replied quietly, moving for the bedroom.

The limp ragdoll in Demiel's arms easily went down among the couch cushions and Castiel didn't question it. She never retired any night so long as dirty dishes remained in the sink.

"I can't believe Hael sold every single painting in her booth," she said conversationally. "I'm glad for her. She truly needed that boost."

"The income will be good for her fledgling as well," Castiel added.

Demiel rolled up her cableknit sweater sleeves and set about to washing the breakfast dishes left from that morning. "No doubt. I fear Mael endures a great deal of pressure trying to provide for two infants and a mentally ill twin. I mean--" Horrified with herself for that remark, she shot wide eyes over her shoulder at Castiel. "--I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so hateful."

"It's all right." He held out his hands in a placating motion.

Nodding, a guilty weighed sloped her shoulders deeper as she returned to the dishes. An interval of silence followed until she asked, "Did you hear from Sam?" He realized the silence marked Demiel working up her nerve to even ask about him.

"I did early this morning, yes," admitted Castiel.

"Is he okay?"

"Yes. He's working on a hunting job. I think he might take on another case after this one, but he's perfectly well."

Her head bobbed in a nod over the sink. "Good," she replied, and left Sam's memory hanging in the air.

Chapter Text

As soon as Dean saw the--what was it--Castiel tilted his head at the upside down box leaned against the wall and read Rainforest Healthy Care High Chair. That was it. Well, Dean had to have it to go with all of the other rainforest baby things he'd acquired since he claimed James as his own. And Castiel didn't argue. He really had no decorating preference as long as it kept their fledgling from wriggling to the floor.

"All you had to do was spoon it at him and he took it?" Dean asked as he adjusted the height and eyeballed the straps.

"Yeah," replied Demiel from the living room couch. "Noah's been very eager to eat. I'll tell you, though, we're going to have to be careful about mixing flavors. Noah won't eat if I put honey in the vegetable jars. He spat peas on me earlier this week, so I've been buying sweet flavors to mix in the honey and then vegetable flavors go better with the crushed rose petals."

"You can separate the honey and rose petals?"

"All long as the fledglings are properly nourished throughout the day, it doesn't matter how it feeds their graces," Castiel said. He bounced James lightly on his arm as the little one played with his shirt collar.

Demiel assembled something called a Rainforest Jumparoo that Dean dragged home with the high chair as well. He took it all upon himself, deciding it was long past time for James to be a more active boy. Castiel wasn't quite sure what a jumparoo did but it appeared to have leg holes and encouraged the infant to kick and bounce as he played with colorful rainforest themed toys. Sometimes it seemed Dean overindulged their son to make up for his unhappy childhood. He gave James everything he'd lacked in abundance. Stability, one home, a lot of toys, and a big extended family. Castiel never could find it in himself to question Dean about the money he spent on baby things. If it fit the rainforest theme at all, it found its way into James' nursery whether they needed it or not.

"I watched a lot of videos on YouTube. You want to start him on the rice cereal first," said Demiel, quite impressed with herself for managing a milestone with her child before the others did. "Give him about three days on the cereal to make sure it doesn't upset his stomach. Then you can try another grain cereal for three more days. I got Noah interested in pureed organic apples after a little more than a week of cereals. Now that I know what they'll eat, I can start making baby food at home."

Dean nodded, making notes in his mind. "Are the bottles done then?"

"No, they said bottles are still their primary source of nutrition right now," she explained. Plastic parts snapped together after a bit of a struggle and she smiled triumphantly. "Aha! I've tamed the jumping thing!"

"It's a Rainforest Jumparoo," corrected Dean in an exaggerated display of feigned offense.

Eruptions of cries trumpeted from Noah's mouth where he'd been napping in the room Demiel called theirs. The two of them occupied the rear bedroom together since she never required any sleep. For such a calm fledgling, he certainly squalled like a car alarm when he required attention.

"Ask not for whom the fledgling cries," Demiel said as she abandoned the jumparoo for her child.

Seizing the opportunity of quiet time alone with their child, Dean popped the tray open on the high chair and approached Castiel as if he wanted to take James from him. "Hey Squirt, you hungry? Wanna try some of that cereal? Looks kinda boring to me but you've been sucking on nothing but bottles for five months, so rice must be awesome at this point, huh?" The hunter flashed the angel a smile and a wink as he clutched James close to his chest. "Daddy should feed you this time. I'm gonna film it. This is a big day for you."

"'Sup, boy toy and angel boy?"

Dean jumped, startled by Gabriel's sudden appearance in the living room. "Jesus Christ," he muttered as he slid James' chubby legs into the high chair seat.

"No, just Gabriel. You think I'm gonna miss this?" Proudly, Gabriel dropped a shopping bag on the couch and peeled open his jacket. He puffed out his chest like a superhero movie poster. "Check it out, fellas. Number one grandpa. It's not true 'til it's on an overpriced t-shirt."

Castiel squinted and gave up on understanding how such rating scales were decided. He shook his head, finding it amusing at least, and set about to mixing up rice cereal and formula like the box instructed. Before he put the new baby bowl into the microwave, he spooned an appropriate helping of honey for James' undeveloped grace and hoped it would translate well in more solid foods. He didn't know how rice tasted. If James disapproved, he'd have to think of something else.

"Hey, bug. How's life in the monkey zoo?" Gabriel said in a baby tone as he ruffled James' black hair.

The fledgling craned his head up and offered a drooly grin as his pearlescent wings drooped over the sides of the high chair. He gurgled at the archangel through his wide, gummy smile as if he tried to speak and expected to be understood.

"Did you just call my boy a bug?" asked Dean defensively as he pulled up a chair and swiped fingers over his phone in search of the camera.

Nodding, Gabriel admitted the allegation. "I called Cas 'bean' when he was a fledgling."

"Bean?" Castiel's nose wrinkled as he mixed up the cereal. "I have no recollection of such a name."

"Sure! When you were a little bigger than this guy, your belly poked out and so did your little butt. From the side, your prototype human body kinda curved like this--" Gabriel's hands outlined the shape of a lima bean, "--so I started calling you bean. Dad had a little work to do on baby bodies, I guess. They're not so pudgy now."

It amused Dean to no end and he chuckled into his phone, perhaps hoping to hide it.

"I don't recall that," repeated Castiel, feeling his cheeks go hot. Of course, there was a lot he didn't remember about being a fledgling. He changed the subject quickly. "I believe the cereal is ready. Are you certain you want me to conduct the first feeding, Dean?"

"All yours, bean," Dean replied, gesturing to an empty chair.

"I'm glad you find it so humorous," he grumbled--or pretended to grumble--as he took a seat before his son excitedly flapping his hands on the tray.

Both Dean and Gabriel surrounded Castiel and James armed with iPhone cameras for the momentous occasion. Castiel glanced at them over both shoulders and wondered if they were putting pressure on the little fledgling to react in some spectacular manner to being fed solid food for the first time. He considered telling them to back off but then Dean began talking about how Sammy was going to love the video and then he didn't have the heart to make them go away.

So Castiel bit his tongue and attracted his fledgling's eye contact. The baby gurgled more, still as if he expected to be understood, and smiled with shining green eyes at his father. Castiel scooped a bit of soupy rice cereal tinged golden with honey and brought the rubber coated spoon to his fledgling's lips. He let a taste of it touch his lips, which his little tongue rolled into his mouth right away. The three of them waited, each looking for some sign of like or dislike in James. He let out a long, insistent hum and reached toward the spoon with grabby hands. Then Castiel scooped a fresh bite from the bowl and spooned it into James' mouth. Instinctively, the little tongue rolled the food back toward his throat to swallow it.

"Whatcha think, Squirt?" asked Dean as he shifted for a different camera angle. "Just wait 'til you try sweet potatoes."

"Nah, don't listen to him. Wait 'til you try Twizzlers and BlowPops," said Gabriel from behind his own phone camera. "There's the real money shot. Wanna try a Cry Baby Gumball, bug?"

Castiel leaned in and smirked at his son, offering him another bite. "I think you'll take after me. Chocolate covered blueberries are understated and classic, James. Trust me." He fed the fledgling four ounces of the formula, honey, and rice cereal mixture at a steady rate as he grew accustomed to it. "I believe you may require a few teeth before we attempt candy though."

"All right," said Dean, ending the video. "I'm gonna send this to Sammy wherever he is."

"That broody moose is still gone? Hasn't it been like two weeks?" Gabriel asked. He flopped into Dean's chair after the hunter got up and wandered aimlessly around the living room.

"Yeah, still gone. Hunting a couple of ghouls in Wyoming now. Took out the flesh eaters in Idaho last week." Dean shrugged as he wandered back to the dining table, watching James cover himself in more baby food than he actually ate. "Says he'll be home for Halloween but that's in four days. I doubt it."

"Have faith in your brother," said Castiel gently. "He'll stop killing monsters and come home again when his soul reaches peace with this new phase of life."

"Geez, bean," Gabriel mumbled, "when did you get so wise?"

"Since I had a baby," he replied.

Behind him, Castiel felt Dean's presence and a strong hand squeeze his shoulder. No way would he show more affection than that in front of someone like Gabriel, but the fact that he quit complaining about the archangel's periodic unannounced visits meant he acclimated himself to the new phase in his life too. Castiel left the baby spoon in the bowl as James sampled another bite and reached over his shoulder, draping his hand over Dean's. The momentous day finally sank in for him. Their little boy was growing up entirely too fast.

Chapter Text

Human inconveniences. The longer Castiel lived in their world, the more of them he found. Chief among them involved doing laundry across the apartment complex in a public facility complete with a lounge and a gym. Would it not have been simpler to install those same washers and dryers in each apartment?

He sighed and sorted the last load. Dean never bothered sorting anything even though Castiel bought a laundry basket for colors and another one for whites. Babies went through more laundry than adult females. And as he dumped another load into a washer, he realized how ridiculous it was that an angel who spent most of his existence fighting cosmic wars became something caught between Heaven and Earth, and whites and darks. An angel shouldn't know how to get out stains, yet there he was, again fussing over grass marks on James' denim overalls.

His pocket buzzed in a double pulse and he found a text message from Dean. "You better come home," it read.

"Can't leave the laundry," he typed back.

"I'll get it," a reply came. "Get home."

It sounded urgent and Castiel's immediate worry was that something happened to James or one of the other fledglings. But as soon as he set foot in their apartment, a gathering of the entire nest and their children greeted him. He stopped abruptly and met eyes with Dean, standing against the kitchen counter with his arms folded over his chest. Closer to the refrigerator stood the fallen angel who had come just after the art festival to be a helpful companion to Hael. He chose the human name of Eddie and separated himself from the nest, like Dean, in perhaps an unconscious acknowledgement that they weren't completely part of the whole.

"What's happened?" Castiel demanded in a cool monotone.

Bethel--he hadn't noticed her yet--rose from an overstuffed armchair by the sliding glass door. A quick glance indicated she'd severely toned down her vessel's flashy fashion style into dark blue skinny jeans covered nearly to the knees by black heeled boots, a simple black t-shirt, and a fitted black leather jacket. The acrylic nails were gone too, as was most of the makeup and hair extensions. The angel outcast redesigned her vessel into something ready to fight at a moment's notice.

"Gabriel's gone back to Heaven," she announced. "He's gone to try and force our superiors into calling off the prices on all of our heads."

"Without telling us first?" blurted Castiel in a flash of indignation. "I expected him to give us warning before he went."

"Yeah," Dean grumbled from the kitchen counter, "it's shady. Can we trust that guy?"

"He did send warning. He sent me," argued Bethel, eyes darting between the two. "I gathered all of you here because Gabriel's uncertain of how things will go. He refused to allow me to go with him this time because I'm meant to look after all of you in his absence. They may take advantage of him being away from the nest to exploit our weaknesses and attack again. Are we all present?"

"All the angels and fledglings, yes," Castiel replied with a quick head count.

"Are there humans?"

"Bobby and Sam," he said. Tenseness suddenly constricted his belly as he and Dean looked to each other, arriving simultaneously at the same thought. "Call Sam. Make him come home immediately. Perhaps we should ask Bobby if we can congregate on his property until we have news from Gabriel."

"On it," agreed Dean, fishing out the phone from his pocket and disappearing into the bedroom.

"I've been making weapons." Bethel crouched and opened the box at her feet. "Heaven's weapons storage was virtually unguarded before I left since we're not at war at the moment. I took as many angel blades as I could carry. Here I've melted them down and refashioned them into disguised weapons, mostly for those in female vessels. The human female is generally regarded by our superiors to be weaker, and therefore, they would try to eliminate Mael, Demiel, and Hael first. Look at the heels on these boots." As she spoke, Bethel withdrew three other pairs of boots identical to her own and demonstrated exactly how the spiked heels were actually cleverly disguised angel blades. "See? I shaped angel blades into heels and painted them black. Steady to walk on yet perfectly unexpected weapons. Demiel, will you demonstrate?"

"Please, it's Demmie now," said their foremost expert in combat as she stepped forward and kicked off the ballet flats she usually favored. She tugged on each boot and tested out their sturdiness with a few steps around the living room as the others watched.

"Astounding," commented Timaniel. "They look just the same as any human female fashion attire."

As he swiped his thumb over the phone, Dean strolled into the living room again. "Left a message for Sammy," he mumbled to Castiel, "but if he doesn't call back by morning, I'm heading out there. Can't take chances with those dicks upstairs. Bobby's cool with us caravaning over to his place. Woah." Demiel in her boots jerked his attention from his phone. "Are we starting a biker gang? You gonna be our chicks?"

Castiel smirked into his fist and Hetanel laughed from his belly, but the others hadn't remotely grasped human society to understand the joke. Heads tilted in every direction.

"I'm unaccustomed to walking in such high heels." Tucking her hair behind her ears, Demiel peered down at her calves encased in black leather. "I feel the hum of the blades beneath my feet though. A well-placed spinning side kick would absolutely plunge the heel into an attacker, or pinning the attacker to the floor and doing it from there. The legs are far more powerful than humans understand in combat." She took the remaining boots and handed them to the others. "Mael, Hael. Try them on. I think they'll work."

"Wait, those things are made of angel blades?" Dean pointed at the boots, his brow arched in disbelief.

Pleased with herself, Bethel went on with her box of weaponry. "Smaller blades for you ladies. They're built into hollowed out lipstick tubes. Watch." She popped open the lipstick top and twisted the bottom, making a smaller blade snap into place. "If you get separated from your other weapons, you have this little friend tucked away somewhere safe on your vessels."

Disbelief turned into a smirk of delight. "Awesome," Dean said, always impressed with new kinds of weapons.

"Did you only make new toys for the girls?" questioned Hetanel, peering into the box.

"No, no. For you gents, I've created a flask. Should you lose your blades, this has a false bottom. Pop it open and it's now a handle for half the length of a typical blade. See?" Bethel demonstrated her tool, but uncertainty flooded her dark eyes they passed from face to face. "Oh dear. Do human males still carry flasks?"

"Why wouldn't they?" Hael surmised quietly as she turned one over in her hands. "They look rather convenient and aesthetically pleasing."

"Don't worry. Enough of us use 'em that it won't seem weird," said Dean dryly.

"Thank you for the supplies. This is going to help us defend ourselves," added Castiel. He usually picked up where Dean left off in niceties with people, which made them complimentary with one another. His eyes turned sideways to Dean's imposing figure, tense with worry. "It'll be safer once Sam arrives home."

*****

Night passed into the sort of darkness that only came with the new moon. Despite the nest congregating at Singer Salvage in a sort of hunkered down fearful defence stance, Castiel had a longstanding dinner date with Hael and her fallen angel, Eddie. He'd been keeping tabs on the situation for over a week since the man had arrived and he needed to know where her mental state stood.

"I'm surprised you wanted to meet here," Hael said, glancing around the restaurant.

"Why not?" Sipping Coke through a straw still left Castiel terribly confused. He yanked out the straw and left it on a napkin. "Both of you require regular meals now. I want to be sure...." Then he stopped himself.

"...Be sure I'm not starving myself," she filled in the blank, eyes peering over her menu.

"I wouldn't have chosen such a harsh phrase." But yes, that was what he meant.

A faint smile twitched her lips, deepening lines around her mouth that hadn't been there before. "You don't have to eat with us."

"It's polite, Demmie tells me."

"But not necessary."

Castiel shrugged and swallowed another mouthful of Coke, careful not to order the beer he really wanted since he was, in fact, a licensed driver. It would take a couple of kegs to get him remotely drunk but he had no desire to attract attention from human law enforcement.

He changed the subject. "Eddie, are you comfortable in your hotel?"

"It's as comfortable as any place to sleep and bathe," the fallen angel replied through a cheeky smile. "I don't spend much time there. A lot of work must be done with Hael."

"And how is it going?" he asked both of them.

Eddie glanced her way as if seeking permission to breach some code of privacy. She offered a subtle nod and dove back into reading her menu with only the top orangy-red halo of hair visible over the top.

"I found her quite emotionally disturbed, much the way I was--the way all of the fallen ones become," explained Eddie as he put down the barrier of his own menu between them. "There are the phobias, of course. Darkness is chief among them. For now, I've got her turning on her closet light when she goes to bed. And going to bed is an issue in itself. A lot of her emotional disturbances were from a lack of rest, which took me months and months to learn on my own. The first thing I did was enforce a human sleeping schedule. Even if she doesn't sleep normally right away, I'm teaching her body to expect rest after ten in the evening."

Nodding, it pleased Castiel so far. "Are you all right with it, Hael?"

"It's strange," the voice replied over the menu, "but Eddie's doing well as a human. I know I ought to listen to him."

That was as best of a response as he could hope for, Castiel guessed. He reverted his attention to Eddie again. "What else?"

"She's agoraphobic," he said bluntly, in the most clinical manner. The angelic monotone despite his humanity left Castiel in little doubt of his origins. "Getting her outside yesterday was harder than any other, for example, yet there seems to be no rhyme or reason with those troubles."

"It's important for Evelyn, her baby, to play outside though," said Castiel.

"I agree," Eddie replied, "and I'm afraid of the fledgling developing these habits if they go on through her more formative development stages."

Hael shifted in her chair and folded her menu. She certainly presented herself as well-mannered and put together that night, but Eddie's language painted a picture of unpredictable bouts of unstability. Yet the insinuation that her phobias and damaged mental faculties might pass to her child clearly left her uncomfortable. No one doubted that she adored Evelyn, but it remained to be seen if she could provide longterm motherhood the way a fledgling needed. She seemed to know that, which actually came as a relief to Castiel. It meant that she understood she wasn't well and that meant she could find motivation to get better.

"Could I ask a question?" requested Hael.

"Of course," Castiel said.

Eddie tilted closer to her and advised, "Remember you're no longer part of a war machine. You don't need permission to speak, especially to those you consider family. Castiel is not your commanding officer. He's your brother."

"Yes," Hael agreed, taking his guidance without a hint of ego.

A waitress left an appetizer on the table--something called a blooming onion--and Castiel feared immediately that the flavors would be too strong for his angelic senses. Onion molecules smelled wretched. Yet both Eddie and Hael dove into it, ravenously dipping fried onion bites into some sort of overpowering sauce.

"I wanted to ask about the diner," she said, relaxing with a bit of food in her belly. "Is Demmie really planning to do it still? Will she let me help her?"

"She's doing it, yes," replied Castiel with a nod. The shine in Hael's pale eyes brought a smile to his countenance. "She's begun searching for what she calls commercial space since she apparently doesn't have to go through banks for mortgages and things like that."

"Because she has that private backer she told us about."

"Right."

Intrigue tilted her head the way confusion tilted an angel's head. "Do you know who's giving her the money?"

"No, but I have my suspicions," Castiel said without elaborating.

Hael's eyes shined again, excited, like a child, and it reminded Castiel again that she wasn't altogether herself. It may have escaped Eddie's notice, having not known her before her grace bled away, but the childlike gleam turned to something manic and unnatural. Perhaps the restaurant overstimulated her. Whatever the cause, Castiel decided to tread lightly.

"Why did Sam run away?" she asked, changing subjects rapidly. "Do you think he'll really come home just because Dean bent his crooked little finger?"

That certainly wasn't treading lightly and she curled each question with the upward inflection of a girl much younger than the years in her appearance that night. Castiel cleared his throat and exchanged glances with Eddie, then said: "Well, Sam's been out hunting. People still need help in spite of our own problems. He'll come home because he feels that family is the most important thing in life."

"It didn't stop him when I lost my grace and Evelyn cried every night for him." The words came out light and girlish, yet they cut through a deeper wound as raw as it was bloody.

Castiel couldn't stop himself from saying it. "Do you care for Sam?"

Eyes flickered to his face, wrinkled with a strange smile. "Of course! He's my best friend."

It wasn't exactly what Castiel asked, but it a way, it was all he needed to know. At least it appeared that Sam was right in trying to put Hael behind him. Even if she did harbor romantic inclinations, which calling him a best friend didn't seem to point to that, she wasn't remotely prepared for the pressures of that kind of bond. The biggest thing he learned from Dean was that it was easy falling in love. Trial by fire came in maintaining that love through raising a child, paying bills, and keeping the extended family together.

*****

Eddie shut the passenger car door of Castiel's car, leaving Hael to contemplate a styrofoam container of leftovers. He stepped up onto the curb, sensing somehow that Castiel wanted a more private word.

"She does this," Eddie explained quietly. "I've taken her on outings before to observe how she reacts under human pressure and she seems to slowly slip into a childlike state the way she did tonight over dinner. I don't know why it happens, but I assure you, she's not too far gone to be saved."

"That's a relief to hear." Peering beyond Eddie, he watched Hael play with the buttons on his car radio until a dull rhythm of base emerged. "Can I ask how you fell?"

A gray pallor muted Eddie's face. Truly nondescript and shorter than Dean and even Castiel, he resembled one of those men who could pass through a crowd without being noticed by a solitary soul. Yet he stood there on the sidewalk with Castiel all too aware of his fall from Heaven.

"It's not unlike her story. I refused to follow my orders and I was cast out," he said quickly. "They wanted me to smite a hospital--well, part of the hospital. The NICU. It was during the apocalypse and it was designed to manipulate faith out of humans, but I just couldn't kill innocent human babies. So I disobeyed. When I tried to go back to Heaven, I was deflected and my grace slowly bled away until I became this man. Eddie Honeycut, a sales rep for Verizon Wireless."

"What was your name at creation?"

Eddie hesitated, and then he smiled somewhat uncomfortably. "Xavier."

"Xav--I know that name...." Castiel's mind turned over the familiar syllables but he couldn't quite place it.

Smirking, Eddie nodded as if he was long since accustomed to being recognized. "I'm sure you do." Few angels aside from Castiel knew that kind of celebrity among their own kind, which meant Eddie had done astonishing things in Heaven. Still, he offered no assistance in putting together the puzzle.

"You could stay the night with the rest of us at Bobby's tonight if you want," he offered.

"No, thanks just the same. I need to get back to my hotel. I have plans."

That astounded Castiel. "Plans?"

"Video chat--you know, Skype. My girlfriend back home. I told her I had family trouble here." An abrupt smile came over him as he threw a hand back over his hair. "I think I'm going to ask her to marry me when I get back to her."

That made Castiel smile against his will, as if he caught it like a disease. No wonder Eddie never blinked at his relationship with Dean. The fallen angel had a love of his own.

*****

"Where can I sleep?" Hael asked as they entered Bobby's dark, quiet house having dropped Eddie off and stopped to pick up diapers and baby food. "I have to keep up my schedule or Eddie will know when I'm sleepy tomorrow."

Castiel placed a protective hand on the small of her back. "I'll put you in my old room."

Out of the shadows, Demiel's erect posture emerged. She greeted them with a quiet nod and a stoic expression with an unsheathed angel blade gripped in her fist and balanced on her shoulder. The angel encased in a Puerto Rican vessel resembled every inch the soldier she once was, right down to a dark slicked back ponytail and those high heeled boots Bethel gave the women.

"Is everything all right?" questioned Castiel, just as stoic.

"I've got the first watch," Demiel replied. "Evening, Hael."

"Hello," the sleepy creature in Castiel's grip replied.

"All the babies are asleep. We've got them in the living room and the kitchen, two to a Pack and Play," she explained, referencing portable cribs that had become so useful to their nest. "I sent Bobby and Dean to bed. They're bunked up together. Hetanel and Timaniel are playing chess on the back porch."

He nodded, impressed by how quickly the family fell into military precision in the time that it took him to have dinner with Hael and Eddie. "Did Bethel leave?"

"Only long enough to see if Gabriel turned up in their hiding places. She said she'd come back tonight." She remembered something. Her eyes flickered before they left. "Oh and Sam called Dean back. He's getting on the road at daylight, or so he said."

The tiniest glimmer of delight peeked through, betraying the cool reserve she worked so hard to cultivate all those months living with them. She couldn't hide her amorous attachment from Castiel no matter how hard she tried, but he never commented on it and he never tried to embarrass her. Demiel's emotions fell under her control quickly, except that one. Perhaps she knew Sam was likely to break her heart and that kept her from expressing her heart. Or perhaps she grew into one of those women rare in the modern age--quiet and graceful, yet strong enough to bear the weight of a man to whom she chose to devote her life.

"Hael, you look so worn out," said Demiel almost tenderly. Her free hand grazed Hael's cheek like a concerned older sister looking over pale features and dark circles under eyes. "Take her to bed, Cas. Right away. There's still a sofa in the room with James' old crib up there."

"You're so pretty, Demmie," she said in a dreamy tone. "Why are you so nice to me?"

"She doesn't know what she's saying," Castiel whispered quickly as he ushered his charge toward the stairs. "I'll be back once I put her down."

"Poor thing," Demiel said sincerely. Her eyes tracked Hael upstairs and said to Castiel just before he went out of sight, "You're being a father to that poor thing."

Chapter Text

"Mornin', Cas." The low, grumbling drawl curled through the silent kitchen as Bobby shuffled to the coffee pot. "Don't you ever rest?"

"I have no need of it," Castiel replied.

The old man grunted into his hot coffee. "What happened to Dean last night? Told the boy to bunk up with me and he ended up on the floor there. What is that--" Squinting, Bobby peered around the kitchen doorway, "--his dad's blanket?"

"John Winchester used it in Vietnam. I haven't been able to pursuade Dean to give it up, or at the very least, pack it away. He keeps it in the trunk of his car until he needs it like now, apparently." Pausing, Castiel sipped his coffee. "I'm not surprised he moved downstairs last night. Rarely does a night go by without him sleeping with James."

Both the angel and the aged hunter watched over six feet of a lump beneath an ugly green blanket, wedged between two Pack and Play cribs. Little Katrina and Evelyn were already awake and rolled on their tummies, but as long as they were content, Castiel decided to wait a little while before commencing the diaper change assembly line. Dean couldn't sleep without tricking himself into some semblance of control in watching over the little ones. Castiel knew better than to argue. He gave up on the co-sleeping issue quite a while ago, deciding something in Dean needed the concept of attachment parenting even if he didn't quite know what it meant.

"Oh, shit. Snowed overnight. Sam's gonna have a hard time on the roads. First snow of the season's always a clusterfuck," Bobby mumbled between mouthfuls of coffee.

Castiel peered through the kitchen window at the untouched blanket of sparkling white over Singer Salvage. Earthly snow always made the ugliest things beautiful. The truth was Castiel itched to get out in it with the fledglings.

"I'm just waiting for the others to return before I take the fledglings outside," he said conversationally as if Bobby heard his thoughts. "I enjoy new experiences with them."

"Where's everybody at?"

"Hael's sleeping in my former room. Bethel's patrolling the property. Demiel, Hetanel, and Timaniel ventured into town for IHOP. They've developed a taste for human breakfast foods. I asked them to bring breakfast for Dean and you too," Castiel explained just as he noticed James beginning to fuss.

Before he could push away from the kitchen counter, Dean grumbled and pushed himself up from the floor. Clothes rumpled and hair curled out in haphazard directions, he looked like a sleepy child too. He spoke softly to James as he bent into the Pack and Play, careful not to disturb Noah in the same crib, and scooped him up against his chest. Monkeys played happily along James' onesie pajamas as he tucked chubby little legs against Dean, trusting his father to hold him securely.

"Mornin', Mr. Mom," groused Bobby through a thin smirk.

"Shut up," Dean's raspy voice answered in sleepy humor.

The fledgling curled a wing around his human father's wrist, contentedly gumming down his own little fist. James had been gaining better control over his wings in the last month and often used them to hold onto his daddies as they carried him here and there. He developed a highly affectionate nature, needing to be touched and cuddled frequently. Perhaps Dean and Castiel spoiled him in that regard. It often translated into James reaching for the other fledglings with his wings too, especially Noah, as if he took it upon himself to comfort them at such a little age.

"It snowed, Dean," announced Castiel, hoping to conceal his eagerness. "You said we could take the fledglings sledding when we got enough snow. Look outside."

"I saw it." The hunter rifled through James' diaper bag dropped by the basement door, searching for the changing pad and a clean diaper. "Where'd the wipes go?"

"Living room sofa," replied Castiel seamlessly.

"Guess we gotta keep the little runts entertained 'til Sam gets into town," surmised Bobby, which was his way of showing enthusiasm, Castiel guessed.

Dean's brow arched as he passed through the kitchen back to the living room, armed with diaper changing supplies. "You're getting soft in your old age."

"Don't act like you and your brother didn't build a snowman out there in my front yard not two years 'fore the 'pocalypse, boy. I know better. Your kid's gotta be a kid whenever he can," Bobby lectured. "You know what it's like growin' up with hunter parents. Only time you ever tossed around a baseball was 'cause I put my foot down and said you gotta take an afternoon to be a kid."

"We're under siege here in case you didn't notice," Dean replied as he ripped open the old diaper.

"And there's nothing we can do until Gabriel arrives with news."

Bobby nodded. "We ain't gonna stew in it. That's for damn sure."

It didn't exactly feel like tension in the air, though Castiel admitted to himself that he still hadn't learned everything about human moods. Dean seemed sleepy but neither defensive nor angry. He wondered if perhaps he should have waited until the first cup of coffee filtered through Dean's system before asking about taking the fledglings on a snowy adventure.

"Cas, could you tie this?" Mael swept downstairs in quite a rush wearing the white t-shirt and black pencil skirt that was her waitress uniform. She handed him the black strip of pockets meant to tie around her waist and turned her back. "I have a split shift today. I get off at two but I need a ride. We're so far from my friend and she can't come all the way over here to drive me in to town too."

"You've made a friend? A human friend?" That made Castiel smile. If Heaven would just leave them alone, they would find a balance in being angels in a human world. He tied the pockets around her waist. "Yes, I suppose I can drive you into town. I have to retrieve Eddie from his hotel anyway."

"You armed, Mael?" questioned Dean, having plucked a second baby for a clean diaper and fresh clothes.

She nodded and lifted the front of her skirt. Three angel blades hugged her thigh, attached by a rather unadorned garter. A smirk ignited Dean's face and Castiel suspected he should have felt a twinge of jealousy over it, yet Mael meant nothing seductive nor could Dean be seduced.

"If you ever get tired of waitressing, you'd make a badass hunter," Dean decided. "Wait, Cas. C'mere."

"What?" Putting down his winter coat, Castiel approached the sofa.

A leg protected Katrina and James from rolling off the sofa cushion as Dean's hand snatched Castiel by the wrist and yanked him down to his level. Playfully, he smirked up at the angel. "You know the rule. Nobody leaves without... you know." He hesitated to actually say it, as always.

Castiel couldn’t hide his amusement and wondered if Dean would ever get used to affection in front of other people. They did have a rule that they always kissed goodbye. He was right about that. With the uncertain and often violent nature of their lives, every goodbye could … Well, Castiel knew why the rule existed. He didn’t need to overthink it. So he clasped hands around Dean’s jaw and planted one on his lips.

"Don’t ride anyone’s tails," Dean mumbled and then kissed him again. "Don’t slam the brakes if you hit ice either. Pump the brakes." A third kiss. "And hurry back." A fourth kiss.

"I’m gonna puke." Bobby grumbled his annoyance as he shuffled back to the kitchen for more coffee.

*****

Two tire tracks sliced through the snowy highway lane and Castiel carefully followed them into town--stiff and cursing the plow trucks for not getting the jump on the storm. Being behind the wheel caused him enough stress without the added bonus of slick ice patches hidden under freshly fallen snow. Castiel gripped the wheel exactly at ten and two with his vessel perfectly straight and watching for danger.

Eddie, meanwhile, greeted the snow with the same flippant attitude that most humans did. "It'll be a rough winter, like my first here as a man," he commented as he observed the weather through the passenger window. "I plan to get Hael outside today. The sooner she adapts to seasonal changes, the better."

"She was still asleep when I left," Castiel replied, careful and measured. "We're taking the fledglings sledding while we await Sam, Gabriel, and Bethel's return. Perhaps Hael will join us there."

A contemplative silence followed. He sensed Eddie trying to piece together something but the road and the weather demanded full attention. Castiel decided he wouldn't drive again until someone assured him that the plows had actually done their jobs. Someone else would just have to pick up Mael after her waitressing shift later in the afternoon. Of course, it occurred to him briefly that he could encourage the angels to revert to their natural inclinations of flying during bad weather, but he reminded himself that humans didn't have that luxury. Resigned, he certainly wanted the fledglings to respect humanity and not become reliant on their angelic powers for everyday conveniences when they were perfectly capable of adapting. Lead by example. It just had to be.

"So ... you and Dean, huh?"

Castiel's eyes shot over to Eddie, surprised by the diversion. "Y-yes. I assume you're referring to our amorous bond."

"Yeah, I am."

"...Why?"

"My girlfriend."

"Oh." Nodding, Castiel still didn't grasp the reason for the invasion into his private life but he pretended that he did. It seemed like he was supposed to get it anyway.

The fallen angel folded his coat tighter around his middle and went on. "And Dean ... that's his name, right? ... He's okay with you not being his species? As in he knows everything? What you really look like? How old you are?"

"I answer Dean's questions whenever he has them," Castiel answered.

"And his love never falters?"

Complicated emotions clouded his thoughts. He fumbled his way through that question. "Dean and I worked together for quite a while before we became involved as lovers. He had ample time to grow accustomed to my nature and my ... idiosyncrasies, I suppose you could say. Really, though, you'd have to ask him if his devotion ever faltered. I do know our relationship has been strained in the past because, honestly, neither of us are completely good or bad. We've done questionable things for very misguided reasons in the past."

"I see," Eddie replied, growing more contemplative. "Are you happy together? I mean, is this a permanent commitment?"

"I believe so. For me, yes, it is." It began sinking in for Castiel that Eddie might have been asking about a future with his girlfriend in a roundabout way through Dean. He hesitated, but then probed deeper. "Does your girlfriend know what you were?"

"No."

"Quite a difficult problem, yes." Suddenly Castiel wondered to himself if he could get through a week without adopting another wayward angel into his flock. He nearly sighed aloud, not for a lack of compassion, but quietly mourned the loss of a simple life with Dean and James whenever another angelic crisis arose. "If you're asking what you should do, we both know most humans cannot comprehend our reality. You know better than me about whether to tell her the truth. I believe the decision must be absolute. If you tell her, do so before you propose marriage. If you don't tell her, then I'd put my past behind me and I'd never look back. I'd give that new future and that love my entire existence."

Eddie absorbed the weight of Castiel's advice as they rounded the town square on the road leading them to the supermarket for more diapers--always more diapers. "I don't know if I could marry her without disclosing the full truth. I've been thinking about it and I guess what I really need to ask is if you could be persuaded to help me tell her. Once Hael's better and I'm going home, I mean."

"Oh, well, I...." Immediately, Castiel understood that it wasn't emotional support he wanted but a demonstration from an actual angel to prove that they were indeed real. "It's true that we're allowed to prove our power and have human's bear witness--"

"--I think you're far beyond what's allowed and what's not allowed, Castiel," he pointed out.

"Yes, I suppose that's true," Castiel conceded, turning into the supermarket parking lot. He felt a bit odd about being used that way, though. On one hand, it was in his nature to help people in need, but on the other hand, the process of humans bearing witness often felt tedious and uncomfortable for him. "Let me think about it. We have time before Hael's no longer in need of companionship. I'd prefer it if you spoke to Dean first and gain perhaps your girlfriend's perspective before you jump into confession."

"Fair enough." Eddie accepted it with the stoic nod prone to angels and former angels alike.

*****

Voices attracted Castiel to the back of Bobby's property along a shallow ridge where they rarely ventured. He left Eddie to rouse Hael from her new human slumber and followed the faint laughter and squeals of delight. Several of their silhouettes dotted the sky, some carrying fledglings and some chatting with one another.

Dean turned back as if he sensed Castiel coming along the footpath. He carried James, the fledgling holding onto his human father so tight with his little fists and wings. At least they were far enough into the boonies that hiding the species of their young didn't seem so necessary.

"Hey," said Dean. The clenched grip on James suggested something peculiar as he leaned in, kissing Castiel with a quick pop. "Um ... the rugrat ... I wish you hadn't left."

"What's the matter?" Castiel's spine prickled into his wings.

Behind Dean, the hulking silhouette of Hetanel crouched on a giant saucer with Katrina in her hot pink snowsuit cuddled in his lap. Then he pushed off and disappeared down the slope of the ridge, while Demiel pointed and giggled with Noah on her hip. It looked like Timaniel readied his own fledgling for a turn sledding down the ridge.

"He flew."

That jerked Castiel's focus back to Dean's concerned, crinkled eyes.

"Yeah. He flew."

Castiel felt his head tip to the side of its own accord. "How exactly do you mean he flew? He's a bit young for that. He only just began eating solid baby food."

In the distance, Timaniel held onto his fledgling as well as Mael's son and sat on the saucer Hetanel had dragged back up the ridge. Off to the side, Bobby slugged back coffee from a thurmes and supervised the sledding adventures.

Throwing up a hand to silence the angel, Dean nodded and shifted the fledgling from one arm to the other. "I know, I know, but it happened. Okay, so we were sitting there on the couch and I turned around because Evelyn started crying. I just turned around long enough to grab her, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, so then Squirt's sock monkey fell on the floor. I dunno what he thought he was doing but he lunged after it and I couldn't grab him. I couldn't--" Stricken, Dean scrubbed his free hand down his face. "I couldn't grab him. He sorta tumbled forward off the side of the couch. Before he hit the ground, his wings spread open real quick, like he caught an air current or some shit like that--"

"--Language, Dean--"

"--Sorry. So the rugrat caught the air current or something and he went...." His hand flattened into the air and sailed along, slowly descending along the way. "He went out like halfway across the room before he grabbed the area rug and just ... landed."

The description of it warmed Castiel from the belly outward and he smiled down at the snow, rocking on his heels. His chest nearly swelled with pride. Their son was the first in the nest to instinctively fly and it was such an early age too. Castiel hadn't expected the little ones to learn flight for another month, maybe two. Clearly his boy was advanced.

"I can't believe I missed it," Castiel said with a downturned inflection.

"It scared the crap outta me but now ... now I'm kinda proud. Like seeing my kid walk for the first time," he admitted with a smile down at the baby clinging to his arm and his chest with his wings. "You're a cool little rugrat, you know?"

"He's you and me." It had Castiel oddly sentimental, the moment, and he passed a hand over James's back.

Dean's forehead nuzzled Castiel's hair. Apparently sentimentality seeped into him too. The hunter's free arm curled around the angel's neck and tugged him close into an unashamed hug with James squished between them. He wriggled and let out a lengthy baby gurgle, muffled by two leather jackets and a pair of fathers just beginning to understand how quickly everything passed with little ones. Fingers raked up the back of Castiel's scalp and they met eyes for an instant before they gave way to the kiss of true intimacy. Nothing salacious passed between them in that moment. Only the kind of affection that came from building a family together.

At first Castiel didn't hear the intrusion. It rolled through the front of his mind like a freight train until the high-pitched whistle broke through that intimate bubble.

A scream.

A scream so loud and horrified that it sounded like a dying animal.

Each angel on the property stiffened for battle, their blades simultaneously dropping into their hands. Dean covered the back of his child's head with his palm and spun around just as Castiel flung himself in front of them.

Demiel was the wounded animal, bloody tears streaming from her eyes as her knees dipped and buckled. She waved her iPhone as if it was the cause of of her hysteria. Suddenly Bobby raced to her side, seeing her legs going weak, and he snatched baby Noah before she dropped him. Hetanel handed off Katrina to Timaniel and hurried to her side as well but he couldn't seem to get the phone away from her.

"What is it?" shouted Castiel. "Demmie?"

"They took him! They took him! They took him!" her voice screeched, rapid and hoarse.

"Who?" Castiel's stomach dropped.

Massive, deeply tanned hands snatched her by the wrists. Hetanel towered over her as he finally wrestled the phone out of her grip. With one effortless arm locked around her body to keep her from dropping into the snow, he watched something play out on the little screen. Her screaming gave way to wailing and then quiet sobbing into his shoulder as he studied it, stoic and unmoving.

"Damn it, Hetanel, what the hell's going on?" growled Dean, still protecting his son with a hand over his head as he stalked through the snow,

The angel in a Northern Cheyenne vessel looked back at Castiel, bypassing Dean for the natural pecking order of angelic power. "It's Sam. Our superiors. They sent Demmie a ransom video."

At that moment, renewed screaming threatened to peel back the roof from inside Bobby's home.

"They sent the ransom video to Hael too," Hetanel said gravely.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean barked as Bobby hooked an arm around James and took that second fledgling. "Show me!"

Hetanel shook his head. "No, it's ... no. You don't want to look."

Red-faced with rage, Dean shouted back, "The hell I don't! Gimme the fuckin' phone! That's my brother!"

"Calm down, boy! We gotta tackle 'em with cool heads, not guns blazin' or they'll sure as shit gonna kill him!" Bobby ordered. He looked odd barking orders like that with a fledgling in each arm as if he might have been any other grandfather on any other day.

Sniffling and equally red-faced, Demiel's shock morphed into rage before their eyes as she pushed away from Hetanel. "I'm killing all of them myself," she declared in unwavering determination.

"Get the kids! Get 'em in the house! Now!" shouted Dean like a drill sergeant.

Chapter Text

Only Demiel and Hael refused to watch the video again after Dean transferred it to a tablet. The others, however, huddled around the old basement table searching for clues that might divulge Sam's location. Castiel shut down his sense of friendship with the younger Winchester brother in order to do as best as he could to bring him home.

The footage began with an extreme closeup on Sam's head, drooped forward as if he hung there. Dean's jaw clenched through a surge of fear and rage. Blood resembled an explosion from Sam's left temple, matted his hair, and spilled in streaks down his face. His head rolled to the side just enough for dim light to illuminate a blackened circle around one eye and more blood dripping from his swollen mouth.

As the camera panned out, his arms filled the frame--Enochian symbols of betrayal and shame carved into his flesh--and his wrists seemed bound over his head. They'd suspended Sam from the ceiling of the darkened space. It resembled a small warehouse organized with aisles of antique human objects. Filthy windows behind Sam created an ominous shadowy silhouette of the younger brother, barely holding onto his consciousness.

Suddenly the camera spun around to the angel filming it. Occupying a male vessel, the angel resembled the sleaze of a used car salesman with wings. "Hello, Demiel. Hello, Hael." He smiled. "My new friend Sam here required a little encouragement to spill the beans on just where his weaknesses were. I do enjoy a good love triangle, don't you?"

Castiel glanced at Hael, seated in the far corner with Eddie holding her hand. She squinted and shook her head as if she didn't quite understand. Meanwhile, Demiel sat in the opposite corner doing her best to tune out the video. She held an angel blade by the handle and curved her other hand along the length of the weapon, melting it down with the white hot light of her grace. The liquified weapon dripped into Dean's bullet molds. A box of deadly angel bullets already sat on the floor beside her chair, though Castiel hadn't tested such an idea yet. He wondered if it would work.

"Let's make this simple for everyone, shall we?" The angel in the video drew Castiel's attention again. "A trade, if you will. You have what we want and now we have what you want. Give us Hael and Castiel, and you can have Sam back--mostly in tact." His eyes turned up wistfully. "It's quite romantic, isn't it? Poor Sam, so in love with the very angel marked for execution. Almost brings a tear to the eye." The wistful upturn of that angel's eyes turned to feigned shock as if watching a plot twist in a movie. "Oh, but what is this? You see, we took a little walk around Sam's brain--boring as it was--and we found love for yet another angel. Hi, Demiel! Or should I call you Demmie now?"

She glared toward the tablet and locked a bullet into the handgun she'd taken without ever asking for it.

"Here's the thing," the video went on. "If you don't give us Castiel and Hael, then Sam will be dog food and little James is next. You read me, Dean Winchester? Who means more to you? The angel you're fornicating with or your brother and the fledgling you've stolen for your own? Think carefully. Tick tock."

As the video cut off, painfully intense silence descended over the basement. Only the metallic clanking and clicking of Demiel building up an angelic arsenal interrupted the quiet. No one seemed to know what to say.

"I'll give myself up," Castiel blurted without thought.

"No!" Dean snapped back.

"Hell no, Cas," reiterated Bobby's gruff voice. "You or Hael throw yourselves on the sword and they ain't gonna stop there. They'll just keep nabbin' more of us 'til there's nobody left."

"He's right," said Timaniel with a sharp nod. "It won't end here."

"We live as a nest. We fight as a nest." Demiel uttered the simple phrase without looking up from her work.

Hetanel, leaning over a map of the upper midwest, traced highways under his fingertip. "Which way would he have driven home?"

"This one," Dean replied as he joined Hetanel at the other end of the table. "We've taken this highway before. He knows it."

"Okay, I'm going out to look around."

"But wai--" Before Dean could get the words out, Hetanel disappeared in a gush of hurried wind. "Shit. Nobody else leave! We can't get all separated 'til we come up with a plan. Where the fuck is Gabriel?"

"Not on Earth," Castiel said regretfully. "I'd feel him if he was on the planet."

The revelation got Bobby shaking his head. "Looks like the trickster's guilty."

"He didn't do this. He went back to speak on our behalf," argued Castiel.

Abruptly, Timaniel righted his posture with the tablet. He interrupted the escalating tensions without even realizing it. "I think I got something useful," he said. "These two frames right here. I see a license plate on a car through the window behind Sam. We can use that to locate him, right?"

Dean nearly jumped across the table and snatched the tablet.

"There," said Timaniel, pointing to the screen.

"I see it." Eyes wild with the first real lead, Dean put down the tablet and quickly scribbled out the license plate number. Just as quickly, he rushed to the nearest laptop and typed like a madman, which Castiel observed carefully but didn't dare stop him. "We need people we can trust to keep the kids," he said to the room as he searched for the owner of the car. "The kids need to be taken somewhere safe. Hidden."

"I'll get Jody on the horn," Bobby decided.

Dean nodded but he added, "She can't take all six by herself."

"I got it, I got it," assured Bobby as he trotted upstairs.

A more powerful gust of wind cut through the basement and everyone turned toward the back expecting to see Hetanel again. Instead, a much shorter figure landed with much wider wings. Gabriel's landing was so smooth and urgent that a person could hardly tell where flight ended and walking began. Like Dean, the stress of the situation gave him a wild look in the eyes as he swept into the basement and looked over their search efforts spread across the table.

"Those assholes tried to lock me up," Gabriel growled--a rare sound for him. "You don't lock up an archangel. You find Sam yet?"

"No," Demiel replied in a predatory tone. "How did they get him?"

"Not through me. They were tracking him before I ever got up there. It was premeditated. I warned you guys about separating and letting one stray from the flock."

"Don't you fucking blame us for Sammy getting swiped. Don't you fucking dare!" Dean boomed over the laptop. "If you're gonna be here, then you help us. You're not in charge! I am!"

Technically the angels recognized Castiel as their figure of authority in the nest but they all seemed to recognize Dean's fragility in that moment. No one corrected him, least of all Gabriel, who clearly appeared to be telling the truth. It was better not to push Dean because they all needed him. Sam needed him. As much as Demiel, perhaps the toughest warrior in the room, hated to admit it--she needed him too. So Gabriel nodded and swallowed his pride for the sake of the greater good.

"I can't get a lock on him," Hetanel announced, sweeping into the basement. "I searched the entire highway from his last case to the interchange out there. They've got him pretty well stashed away."

"Oh God...." breathed Hael in her first utterance since the ransom video arrived. She leaned into her lap and rubbed her forehead. "I should have turned myself in a long time ago. Sam is my friend. He's my friend and I let him down."

"Stop it, Hael. There's no time for self-pity. We're taking the fight to them. They're going to pay." The determination in Demiel's sweet voice bordered on tightly controlled homicidal rage.

"Lusk, Wyoming," announced Dean over the women. "Car's registered to some guy named Monty Bennet. Owns an antique store and flea market."

"Sounds like where they've got Sam," said Timaniel.

"Probably took Monty for the vessel," Dean surmised.

Standing, Demiel worked the length of her dark hair into a ponytail. "If only one of them took Sam--"

"--It wasn't just one." Castiel had been quiet for most of the search but he felt it was time to take charge of things. After all, Sam was his best friend and he was responsible for the entire nest. "Sam is an incredibly capable hunter. He could have gotten away from one angel. What was done to him--that was at least five of them. Probably more. Our superiors are likely losing patience with our resistance, which means more and more of them are getting involved. Angels simply don't resist authority with this much defiance for this long. We know that. They know if we get away with this, other angels will see how easily the superiors may be challenged. The bottom line is they're getting desperate and desperation leads to bloodshed and sloppy decisions. We're going to remain calm and level-headed. We're not going to fight with each other. Do you understand me?"

Heads around the room nodded. Including Dean. That surprised Castiel and his eyes lingered on that weathered, freckled face trying to express love and comfort without saying a word. He promised Dean with just an expression that he wasn't going to let his superiors hurt Sam any more than they already had.

Slowly, Hael rose to her feet and let go of Eddie's hand. "I know what to do," she said hesitantly, stepping forward. "I know how we're going to rescue Sam and keep our nest together."

*****

"Say bye bye to Daddy," cooed Dean as he handed James off to Castiel.

Their son appeared to sense the tension there in the yard surrounded by other fledglings receiving goodbye cuddles from their angel parents. His face soured and he sputtered uncertain fussing as Castiel pulled him close, trying to bounce him and comfort him through it. The sweet baby smell of his black hair filled Castiel's nose and he closed his eyes to immerse himself in that sensation. Feeling the weight of his baby in his arms, Dean's hand on his back, and drowning out everything but James' voice gave him the strength to leave. There was no choice. He avoided thinking about the fact that if things went bad, he wouldn't come home again. The thoughts forced their way to the surface anyway.

"Dean, you must promise--"

"--No, Cas--"

"--You have to raise him to know how he was loved, what I went through for him. What we went through. Don't let him forget who he is or where he comes from, but teach him to love humanity as he loves his father." Saying it out loud gutted Castiel as the baby fussed into his shoulder.

"I got it, but you're coming home. Same as Hael. Same as Sammy. Same as all of us," said Dean, though a measure of doubt filled his eyes.

Near Bobby's van, Demiel gave Noah one last squeeze before passing him off to Jody, who brought her sister along and swore that sister could be trusted with the truth. It seemed to satisfy Bobby enough and if Bobby agreed to the arrangement, then it was good enough for Dean too. As soon as Demiel's maternal nature gave her child over into capable hands, the face of a warrior fit over her like a mask. Castiel watched it happen as she crossed the snowy yard in those deadly spiked heeled boots. Tenderness and gentle love shifted to the countenance of a weathered soldier, burying all personal sentiment for the task at hand.

"Time's wasting," she said, joining Dean and Castiel, and glancing around at the others. "I went over the plan with Hael multiple times. I just don't know. This is a big gamble, playing with Sam's life like this. Are you sure, Cas?"

"Do you have a better idea? We don't know how many there are. I've done this before and it worked."

Demiel let out a deep sigh, resigned. "I know." She hadn't let go of the handgun since she loaded it with bullets melted down from an angel blade. "I'll take her."

"You sure 'bout that?" asked Dean.

She shot him a pointed look as if he accused her of something. "Yes. It should be me. I'm the most trained combat specialist here."

"I think Dean might be wondering if your attachment to Sam could distract you," added Castiel without considering that his words might have been hurtful.

Narrowed eyes darted back and forth between Dean and Castiel's faces, utterly offended. She scoffed, shook her head, and flipped the gun from one hand to the other, not that she would have shot them for making her angry but she certainly needed to kill something. With an eye roll, Demiel walked away.

"Cas," whispered Dean, "first rule of being a dude is never piss off a chick holding a gun."

*****

They waited.

Demiel took flight with Hael, leaving the others behind and they sat in silence at a gas station five miles away from the antiques warehouse in Lusk, Wyoming. Five miles were entirely necessary for a buffer between the Trojan horse and those with angelic grace.

Low humming broke into the silence. One by one, each angel along with Bobby and Dean looked to Hetanel. He twisted an angel blade through his hands as he hummed something that resembled indigenous prayer music. Castiel's assumption proved correct when, a few minutes later, the low humming developed syllables and a melodic rhythm around entreaties for protection in Cheyenne. Hetanel was the strangest of hybrids--an angel through and through, yet completely immersed in the indigenous people that he'd been in charge of guiding and protecting for God knew how long.

Rustling wings carried over the prayer song and he glanced up to see Demiel's return.

"It's done. I got her as close as I could without alerting them to my presence," she informed the group. "She'll pray for me when she does it."

"How's her mind?" Bobby asked. "She got her head in the game?"

"She'll do it," assured Eddie, "and if it's all the same to you guys, I'd like a weapon."

That surprised Dean, it appeared. "You're coming with us?"

"I lost my grace in disobedience inspired by Castiel's example. The last few years I've been wandering trying to figure out who I am. I can't see myself being worthy of marriage and a family of my own if I don't help this family that I believe in more every day. You're all much closer than we ever were in Heaven. I want to live in a world where I can say I fought for this kind of loyalty."

Angels exchanged glances. Dean looked Castiel's way with a light shrug and the sort of pouted lips that suggested acceptance.

Hetanel stood and handed Eddie his extra blade. "Let's see what you can do then."

Chimes blared from Demiel's back pocket at that moment and she snatched her phone. She answered a Face Time call from Hael, it seemed, as Castiel leaned in and found her looking ahead onscreen, walking along. The signal faltered and blurred as she made her way into a building that looked dark and filthy.

"You hear me?" she whispered.

"We're here," Demiel replied in a low, discreet tone.

"Okay." Nodding, Hael turned a corner into a long corridor. "I'm under the building. It's very industrial down here. I think it used to be a factory."

"Have you seen anyone?" Dean asked from over Demiel's shoulder.

"Not yet. I hear them walking though." Though Hael's tone remained steady, anxiousness shined through her eyes. Determined, yes, but she seemed terrified of letting down the nest. The view suddenly turned forward as she walked. "Okay, found the stairs. I'm going up. You guys gotta go in my pocket but I think you'll hear it when you need to come."

"You can do it, Hael." The encouragement passed through Demiel in the utmost sincerity. "Remember this is for Sam. We're bringing him home."

Hael's face briefly flashed on the screen, nodding, as she searched for her pocket. "Guys, please don't leave me."

"We're with you, Hael," assured Castiel.

Low humming began again as Hetanel sent up melodic indigenous prayers.

The plan she'd taken from Castiel's own history. Everyone knew how he brought the Winchesters to Zachariah and the other angels, throwing himself into the sacrificial pot by carving the warding sigil into his chest. Once he drew out as many as he could, he ripped open his vessel's shirt and slammed his palm against the bloody sigil. Being an angel himself, the spell banished him as well, leaving Dean and Sam to fend for themselves and try to save their brother, Adam.

But Hael was human. She wouldn't banish herself with the warding sigil.

They watched the view from the phone's camera poking out of her front pocket. A lipstick blade twisted open. Hael yanked up her sleeve and hissed in pain as she carved the sigil into her forearm just below the elbow. She bore the pain bravely as her blood dripped onto the concrete floor.

And once she finished the sigil, she concealed the wound under her sleeve. The phone camera swayed as she climbed the stairs.

"Here we go," Demiel whispered.

Chapter Text

The iPhone camera slipped deeper into Hael's pocket just as someone--some shadowy figure--crossed her path. All of them leaned closer into the phone clutched in Demiel's hand as if that might pull it out of her pocket again.

"I came as soon as I could," announced Mael as she swooped into the back of the gas station with them. "It's almost impossible to disappear from a crowded restaurant without people thinking you might be a little less than human."

"Shh," Hetanel said, a finger to his lips.

"What's going on?" whispered Mael.

Quiet and careful, Castiel leaned over and explained everything in her ear, far enough from the others that no one would hear the noise coming from Hael's pocket. Judging by the wide eyes and horror found there, Mael didn't know how bad it was or what they were up to--only that something awful occurred and where to meet them. Hael's twin pushed her way toward Demiel and bent over the phone, not that she could see anything anymore.

They listened. Heightened angelic hearing deciphered the moment, though Dean, Bobby, and Eddie couldn't make it out.

"Good to see you again, Hael," said a male voice.

She hesitated but forced her voice to cool. "Who are you?"

A chuckle. "Oh, that's right. You can't see your own kind anymore. You're swinging from the trees flinging feces with the other hairless apes these days, aren't you? How sad."

"I'm here to turn myself in," she declared, ignoring the insults.

"We'll get to that."

"No. You show me Sam first. Show me that he's alive. I want to see all of my captors. If I'm being escorted home to die, then you show me your faces. Now."

"You really think you're in a position to negotiate?"

Silence engulfed Hael and they felt her anxiety spike. Abruptly, a moment later, it calmed into a different path. "Do as I ask," she said, her monotone strong, "and I'll bring you Castiel. Don't?" It sounded like she shrugged. "Well, you can certainly kill me right here and now but I'm fairly certain you know what Castiel's capable of, otherwise you wouldn't involve so many superiors down here among the poo flingers, would you?" Her voice turned light, like a song of sarcasm. "I'm thinking you're not as confident as you look."

"Good girl," Dean said so quietly that Castiel thought only he heard it. The hunter smirked.

Muffled footsteps scratched through the iPhone speakers, yet they only saw the blackness inside of Hael's pocket. Rhythmic steps then brought to mind another stairwell. More footsteps came along until they couldn't tell how many feet trailed along with Hael. She was surrounded. Her breathing went sharp, tense, and as strained as a person feeling physical pain.

"How could you leave him hanging there like that?" Hael shrieked.

The question shot through each of them staked out at the gas station like bullets spraying the lot. Color drained from Dean's face. He jumped to his feet, hearing the muffled laughter of the angels surrounding Hael and apparently Sam too.

"Eh," one of them said noncommittally, "he's alive. For the moment. Now be a good girl and pray for Castiel."

"Oh, sure." A smile edged her words even though they couldn't see. Perhaps her madness served her well in becoming such an actress. "Dear Castiel, my leader, my protector--"

Chuckles. Spiteful, condescending chuckles. Then, rustling fabric.

"--Castiel, I pray to you. Come to the ground floor of Monty's Antique Mall in Lusk, Wyoming. I'm here. I need help." Her words turned sharp and deliberate. "In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit--"

An explosive white light blinded all who's eyes focused on the phone screen, accompanied by screams fed through a wind tunnel. It happened so abruptly that the humans among them had no time to cover their eyes. Even through the narrow screen cradled in Demiel's hand, the power of the warding sigil stung their eyes. The angels knew and they went stiff, waiting.

Everything went still, black, and silent in Hael's presence.

"...Amen."

"She did it," blurted Demiel, shooting to her feet.

"Go! Now!" Dean barked as he all but threw Bobby and Eddie into the middle of the angels.

No one knew how much time they had but hearing Hael rush to Sam's aid with high-pitched pleadings for him to say something sent them into overdrive. Castiel grabbed Dean. Hetanel grabbed Eddie. Timaniel grabbed Bobby. Damiel and Mael grabbed the stockpile of weapons. Wings spread and flew in a breath and a heartbeat, leaving the angels quite aware of their flight but the human conception of time bending never registered for them.

The rushed flight ended in a scattered landing. Castiel grabbed a fistful of Dean's jacket to keep him from stumbling to the floor, having never been good at catching his feet. He misjudged and caught the air current leading to the second floor. Dean picked up on the missed target and bolted immediately for the stairwell with Castiel in hot pursuit.

Below, the antique mall opened up into shadows and darkness. Castiel's human eyes adjusted painfully slow and he found Hetanel and Bobby there, untying Sam. He'd been suspended by an extension cord from a pipe running through the ceiling. Arms dropped limply around Hetanel's shoulders and the angel's inhuman strength effortlessly supported Sam's weight. Dean grabbed his brother and slapped his face, trying to bring him around.

"Fix him," he ordered Hetanel.

"I got it, I got it." Hetanel eased Sam down against the nearest wall.

The younger Winchester's battered face and carved, bloody flesh was enough to turn even Castiel's stomach. They'd tortured him trying to figure out ... something. Obviously they underestimated Sam's desire to protect the nest--his growing family. He'd endured inhuman torture to buy them more time.

"Sammy! Sammy, c'mon, man. Hang on," Dean pleaded as he squeezed his brother's upper arm.

Mael darted to her twin and they embraced tenderly near the Winchesters as Hetanel laid healing hands over Sam's torso. Siblings clung to each other for survival and Castiel stood by as a silent guard. Plans formed in his mind. They'd take Sam somewhere else--not South Dakota--and they'd all relocate just long enough for Gabriel to make a deal on their behalf. It couldn't go on forever. It just couldn't. Heaven was capable of a lot of bloodshed but Castiel couldn't begin to comprehend spilling the blood of innocent fledglings. It was just a matter of....

Gasping turned heads and Sam came to, dried blood the only reminder of what happened. He arrived at consciousness swinging at all of them and only Dean could bring him back to reality.

"Sammy! It's me! It's us. You're cool, you're okay," Dean assured.

"Dean?" He blinked dumbly at his brother and the others.

"Yeah, we got here in time. Hael, she banished those dicks. She saved your ass."

Letting go of her twin, Hael approached Sam and offered her hands as if she could really help a man of his size to his feet. "Hi, Sam," she said in a small voice. "I don't know how long they'll be gone but we gotta get everybody far away from here. Can you walk?"

Castiel marveled at her cool nerves.

"Y-y-yeah, I can ... I can walk." Shaky and confused, Sam took her hands and pushed himself up to his full towering height. He tried to comb a hand through his hair the way he always did but the dried blood matting it snarled his fingers. "Hael, you ... stopped them? The angels? There were at least seven of them."

"I did, yes," she replied through a bright smile.

"Eight, actually."

The room froze. All eyes turned to the foreign voice and Castiel immediately showed the intruder his blade. Hetanel and the others followed his lead, bearing their weapons, and Hael charged ahead of them. The power of rescuing Sam surged through her. A force to be reckoned with, she pointed her blade straight out at the angel wearing a human vessel.

The angel smiled thinly at her. "Brave, brave Hael. You survived Heaven's serpent and here you are just barely holding onto your mental faculties in humanity."

"We're done here," Castiel said sternly. "This is over. We're going to live our lives away from Heaven and you're going to go back and do ... whatever it is that you do back there. Nothing we do harms you. We're walking away now and you're letting us go."

The thin smile turned into thin laughter. "Oh, Castiel--"

Metal clicking in the darkness behind the angel stopped her. The way her eyes flickered bordered on amusement and curiosity. Though she didn't turn to face the gun, Demiel's heels clicked across the concrete floor as she emerged into the light. Her stern, cold eyes locked on her target and she came to a halt just a foot from pressing the barrel into the back of the angel's skull.

"Do you really think you can kill me with a gun, Demiel?" she asked.

"Let's find out."

The final syllable of her retort punctuated with a wicked blast straight through the angel's skull. Her brain exploded like a watermelon dropped from a window and the body flung forward onto the ground. Cool and collected as if she'd been on a Sunday stroll, Demiel's weapon fell to her side and a deep breath cleansed her body.

"Holy shit," Dean mumbled in shock. "Fuckin' awesome shot, Demmie."

"No, no, no! You don't understand!" Suddenly panicked, Sam grabbed his brother's arm like he wanted to run and take everyone with him.

Castiel looked back at them, confused. "What?"

"That thing, she's not--"

But Sam couldn't get it out before the body groaned. A hand planted on the concrete and then the other hand mimicked the first. Brain matter scooted across the floor, drawn back to her skull by some invisible magnetic force. Demiel cocked the gun and fired three more shots into the body's torso, but it accomplished nothing. The vessel groaned, twisted, and contorted as the skull pieced itself back together again. She rose. She resurrected before their eyes. Castiel slowly began to understand as the knowledge reached through time and reminded him that only one angel could survive the blade, even one melted down into pistol bullets.

"You really should know better," said the angel as her jaw refitted itself.

"Cas...." pleaded Dean in a low whisper.

"You're the leader," Castiel surmised aloud. "You're the current Queen of Heaven."

"Current. I think you mean permanent. God left the throne vacant so long ago that hardly anyone remembers a time when I wasn't queen."

"The fuck does that mean?" Dean growled.

"Dean!" both Bobby and Sam admonished him, sensing the danger.

Another thin-lipped smile. "Call me Naomi. And you. You're Dean Winchester. The Righteous Man. We had so many high hopes for you once upon a time. Now look at you. Still risking everything for the boy with demon blood and fornicating with one of my angels."

"Suck my--"

"Dean!" shouted Sam.

"Listen to your brother, Dean."

They couldn't kill her even if Dean couldn't see that fact. Castiel veered closer to him, if anything to keep him from doing something irrational. He was quite powerful in his own right but he wasn't powerful enough to take on the Queen of Heaven. Defeat began creeping around Castiel like the smoke of a demon seeking a host.

"Sam Winchester, we have a little matter to settle, don't we?" she began as if carrying on a corporate meeting. "You killed two of my lieutenants before they restrained you."

"Yeah, and I'd do it again," he retorted. "Going after my family's the last thing any one of your lieutenants will ever do."

"These angels aren't your family, you stupid boy. They're my defiant underlings and they must learn that disobedience leads to severe punishment. Killing my lieutenants makes you one of these disobedient little urchins too, doesn't it?"

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Man, lady, you sure like hearing the sound of your own voice."

The Queen of Heaven shifted her eyes to Dean as if looking down on an insect. "I wasn't talking to you."

"All right, enough! Everyone!" yelled Sam.

"I'm bored and you're all unruly brats," Naomi sighed. "Say goodbye, Sammy boy. You're about to become a martyr as you always wanted. Pray that your example leads the others to the path of obedience."

"The fuck--"

"--Stop!--"

"--No!"

Castiel had no idea what he could have done but instinct propelled him across the warehouse floor faster than human eyes could detect. She moved faster than him, though, and Sam never saw it coming. A ball of liquid white light exploded from the palms of Naomi's hands and hurled like a horizontal lightning bolt aimed straight for the younger Winchester's chest.

"Sam, no!" shrieked Hael.

The air moved--it rippled near the ceiling--and a swirling tornadic wind tore through each body rushing to stop her from killing Sam in that instant. Such unyielding strength dragged Castiel backwards no matter how he attempted to force his angelic strength forward. It was more powerful than him.

One sickening thump of a body hitting the ground ... and then a second.

Chaos only extended a few seconds of explosive terror before it ended. Castiel immediately counted his nest, most of whom scattered and tumbled to the floor. Stunned eyes sought each other from person to person as the deafening silence pounded through their skulls harder than the cyclone that ripped up the warehouse. Distant echoing screams bore a hole in the silence. It dawned on Castiel that the force of ... whatever happened ... momentarily rendered him deaf and so did everyone else judging by the stunned humans and angels rubbing their ears.

Clarity came to Castiel again, though he didn't know how much time passed. His ears slowly opened again, as did the rest of his senses, the moment it all focused on Mael bent over a body with the most anguished expression.

Hael. Limp on the floor.

Simultaneously, Castiel and Sam scrambled over the concrete and met on opposite sides of the body. Hetanel and Demiel ran and dropped to their knees around her head, while Dean, Bobby, and Timaniel surrounded the lower half of her body. Intentional or not, the nest insulated one of their own, protecting her with their own bodies as if they could stop the Queen of Heaven. Demiel cradled Hael's head in her lap as Mael, nearly hysterical with weeping, clutched her twin's hand to her chest.

"I dunno what happened," Sam said hoarsely. "That woman threw a light and Hael ... she jumped in front of me. She took the hit."

She took the hit was the biggest understatement Castiel had ever heard. Tuning out Mael's terrified cries took all of his strength as he peered down at Hael's torso. Beneath pools of blood, her shredded abdomen and chest looked like a pile of hamburger hit by a grenade.

Pale lips drained to blue. "Sam ... hit...?"

"No, I'm okay," Sam told her with a hand petting her hair.

With the faintest of nods, she licked her lips. Her eyes fluttered.

"Fix her," Dean said. "Quit wasting time."

Castiel scooted in closer and rubbed his palms together. The ringing in his ears still hadn't gone away but he tuned it out as his hands opened and hovered over the damage. Light poured through each finger into her wounds. She whimpered weakly as if it caused her pain and Demiel did her best to comfort the poor girl. The outer edges of the explosion healed but....

"I can't," Castiel whispered, glancing up at the surrounding faces.

"What?" Panic deepened the horror in Mael's eyes. "We're angels! We can heal any human! Mend her, Cas, now!"

"I-I can't." The reality of it sunk his hope to the ground. "I--"

"--Stop," whispered Hael. "This is how ... how..." she swallowed hard, "...it must be this way."

"The hell it does!" Hopping to his feet, Dean roused the others. "C'mon. We're scooping and running to the hospital."

Sam obeyed his brother without question until Hael reached up and grabbed his sleeve. "Playing with life and death is a never ... never e-ending cycle. I'm human. Humans die every day."

"No," argued Mael. "Think of Evelyn."

"I am," Hael whispered back. "She has a family to ... to show her ... show her the way of her own kind. It's not me anymore. I'm human." Speaking increasingly grew difficult and her face hardened through an apparent sharp stab of pain. "I'm ... unfit ... I'm an unfit human. I never did anything right as an angel or a woman, except...." Tears flowed back from the corners of her eyes, rolling into wet streaks through her hair. Just the act of swallowing caused her suffering. "...Taking the hit for Sam was the only right thing I did in my life. He's ... he's irreplaceable to this nest where as me ... I'm ... And now I'm leaving my child to him, to Demmie too."

"What? No!" Sam's eyes went wild thinking she really could die. "No, no, no! Hael, you're her mother and you're gonna watch her grow up like the rest of us. I'm not a father, no. I'm no parent."

"You will be," she whispered, content with her choice. "Now, Demmie, you don't have to be afraid of me anymore."

Silence. Hael's features relaxed into the unnatural waxy tone that human faces often adopted when they fell under the blanket of unconsciousness.

"Hael!" screeched her twin, shaking her by the shoulders.

"The queen is dead," a voice said.

Drawing Castiel's attention, there stood Gabriel with the archangel's sword in his fist. The gaudy gold bejeweled sword dripped with both the blood and grace of a conquered queen. Equally golden, smoky light curled and undulated upward from Naomi's beheaded corpse, soaking into Gabriel's chest. His eyes rolled up into his head and his mouth hung open as if that vessel struggled to contain the transfer of power. As the last of it soaked in, Gabriel's chest swelled and glowed gold, along with the metallic light flowing through each feather of his wings. They unfurled and spread from wall to wall, thirty feet wide, displaying the complete transformation.

"The queen is dead," Gabriel said again. He locked eyes with Castiel, astonished with what happened as much as the rest of them. "Long live the king."

"What the hell's he talkin' 'bout?" Bobby muttered to the nest.

"Oh God...." It seemed to sink in for Dean as he gave Gabriel the once over.

"And so it is told," Hetanel recited aloud to the nest in his deepest, reverent tone, "that he who defeats the throne claims the throne. Behold, the right hand of God shall take unto himself the power of our Lord upon the moment of Heaven's revelation. And lo, he who assumes the throne must never know better than thy God, for there is only one eternal Lord Almighty."

"Ain't never read that in the Bible," Bobby said, brows furrowed.

"We have our own," replied Castiel. His focus never left Hael, however, and he couldn't compute what Gabriel did in order to save them. "Gabriel! Come, please!" Yelling at the new heavenly sovereign was highly disrespectful but nothing mattered except Hael's life in that moment. Everything else had to wait.

"If you're the new ... God ... or whatever, then get over here and fix Hael!" yelled Dean so loud that his voice cracked.

The new light glowing like embers behind the whiskey golden color of Gabriel's eyes turned toward the lot of them as if he tried to learn to see as a celestial monarch. He passed the archangel sword from one hand to the other and stepped over Naomi's headless body without an ounce of care for the dead angel. Once the rarely seen Queen of Heaven, she'd been replaced in the breath of a moment by the only remaining angel in the host powerful enough to take her on. Gabriel hadn't planned it. Castiel saw that in the worry lines etched between his eyes and around his mouth. Still, he approached and knelt between them.

"I'm not God," Gabriel corrected Dean in an unusually quiet voice. "We have one God--one father--even if the heirs assume His throne in His absence. It's a stewardship, Dean. I'm not God. I'm not God."

Gabriel looked traumatized. It happened so fast and what was done couldn't be undone. Castiel touched his arm in an attempt to refocus the archa--the king's attention. The only thing Castiel saw beside him was the angel who had raised him as a fledgling--the one who took him to Earth to see the dinosaurs, the one who taught him about natural sweets before primitive humans discovered them, the one who taught him to fly and to harness his grace in self-defense. Even the fire of Gabriel's new power burning in his eyes couldn't erase those memories.

"Hael needs us now," said Castiel. "The damage is too deep. It's in her DNA. I can't reach it."

"I don't know if I can either," Gabriel admitted. "I'm not God."

"Try!" Demiel piped up for the first time. "You're the King of Heaven now! Act like it! This poor girl sacrificed herself for this nest and we owe it to her to fight for her the way she fought for us!"

"Bossy...." Gabriel said under his breath with a faint, crooked little smile.

King or not, Gabriel was still Gabriel and that comforted even Dean despite the deplorable circumstances.

Clapping his hands together, Gabriel rubbed his palms in quick circles and adjusted his position over Hael. "Pops, if you're still out there somewhere, gimme a little extra juice for this girl. No kid should grow up without a mother, so help me out here," he mumbled doubtfully as he covered her lifeless body under his hands. "Here goes nothing. Everyone pray."

Sam and Demiel linked hands discreetly hidden behind his thigh--or so he thought it was discreet--with entwined fingers and squeezed each other tight.

Even Dean linked hands with Castiel beside him and Mael across from him. Here went nothing, indeed.

Chapter Text

A pair of brothers sat on the hood of a car nursing a pair of cold beers. Stars seemed to hang lower in the sky that night, spying the way Castiel did. It might have resembled any other family in any other yard in North America, but it really sank in for Castiel exactly how strange their lives were for the first time. Perhaps he'd been immersed in human culture too long but he worried for both of the Winchesters. How much torment could two men realistically tolerate before they broke?

"C'mon, Bean, let 'em have their sappy broment. Probably gonna be a long one after the crap that went down today." Gabriel clapped the back of Castiel's shoulder. "Lemme take the little guy."

Castiel glanced down at the little bundle curled against his chest in monkey footie pajamas. Oddly, he thought of the old dinosaur pajamas when James was just a tiny, sleepy thing and missed the touch of soft fleece. He hadn't let go of James for a single moment since the nest limped back to Bobby's home. It was all over, at least for the moment, but everything went so ugly so fast that day. How quickly James could have been orphaned, the same as any of the fledglings. It sent unreasonable fear through him and it made him squeeze the fledgling closer.

A lopsided smile did little to hide the anxiety Gabriel harbored over what he'd done. "Dunno when I'm gonna be back again, Cas. You gonna let me see Bug for a minute?"

"Yes. Of course." Castiel didn't mean to imply that he didn't trust Gabriel with his child. Careful not to wake James, he placed the baby in the new King of Heaven's arms. "You know, they say it's a holy blessing to have Heaven's monarch hold the fledgling in an angel's charge."

"Geez, I'm not the freakin' pope," scoffed Gabriel as he slowly paced around the room stroking one of James' wings. "You saw me at that antique place. I dunno what the hell I'm doing."

"You saved Hael."

"Barely. She could still kick the bucket."

"Not with the constant care and concern of her family and the hospital."

Gabriel rounded the back corner of Bobby's desk, probably too far lost in the shadows for human vision. Holy fire flickered in his eyes as they lifted to Castiel's face. It would take some time to grow accustomed to the shift from archangel to king.

"That's really all that matters to you, huh? This family stuff."

"Yes," replied Castiel simply. His head tilted. "I was raised that way."

It hit Gabriel exactly what he meant and his eyes pinched shut for an extended moment. "Did I ruin you?" The question came out quieter than the new king used most of the time.

"Ruin me?" Castiel certainly didn't expect that. "N-no. I don't think so. Not at all." He took a quick breath and regrouped. "You showed me steadfast care when other angels only taught their fledglings blind obedience. You instilled the ability to think and to reason in me. Dean, he--" Castiel glanced over his shoulder at the Winchester brothers sitting on the Impala hood outside, "--he gave me the freedom to be the angel I am--the angel you raised me to be." He turned back to Gabriel. "I like the me I've become."

"I abandoned you."

"But you're here now."

Gabriel's brow arched skeptically. "Is it that easy?"

"Yes."

"Bean--"

"--Family doesn't give up on family. If you ever knew me at all, then you know I'm sincere in that. Dean only reinforces my faith in family," Castiel argued. He paused and considered whether he should ask what really needed to be asked. "Listen, I need to know, Gabriel. Did you plan what you did? Killing the Queen of Heaven?"

"Nope," he replied, giving back his attention to the fledgling. "You really think I want this much visibility? I'm the one who hauled ass straight out of Heaven as soon as Michael and Lucifer started throwing lightning bolts at each other. Conflict--No, I didn't want this--Conflict scares the hell out of me. So now I guess I've got a whole world of conflict on my shoulders and I don't even know if they'll recognize my ... my crown, I guess."

"They have to," Castiel said, measured and certain. "Heaven's sovereign isn't elected. It's not a popularity contest. You know that."

"Yeah." Perhaps it was the darkened room but it looked like Gabriel heaved a deep sigh.

"Why'd you do it?" blurted Castiel.

Spinning on his heels, Gabriel didn't immediately respond. "Well, I mean ... you have to ask?"

A blank stare answered him. Not that Castiel didn't already guess why but he wanted to hear it said once and for all.

"You're my kid, Cas," he said after a long, silent moment. "If someone threw a fireball at Bug here, you'd take a sword to their neck too. You wouldn't think twice. I sure didn't. They tried to lock me away when I went upstairs, you know, and that was when I knew they were going after you. So I finally grew a pair and broke out and did what I should've been doing this whole time--helping my kid."

It was strange hearing Gabriel speak in such paternal terms. A subtle smirk played Castiel's lips as he crammed his hands in his jeans pockets and dropped his eyes. He rocked on his heels and then rubbed the back of his neck in that strange habit of not knowing what to say.

"I know I wasn't the greatest at taking a stand. I should've a long time ago, way back when those Ken dolls out there came on the scene. Face it," continued Gabriel in a more private tone. "Dad was never around and he definitely wasn't there for the day to day river of crap all of us angels went through. It's all lies. The whole system. Guardians weren't just assigned to train fledglings in combat and obedience. We were always the real parents. I was more of a father to you than him, just like Michael was to me. Dad's love was so obscure and abstract that we're lucky Michael and Lucifer were the only ones who lost their marbles."

Castiel nodded. He committed each word to memory. "The only way to ensure our protection is if you go home and become a ruler."

"I know." A reluctant sigh heaved his entire body. "I have to go, don't I? I owe it to you after ... after being such a coward for so long. The whole thing up there has to be torn down and built up again--built on the model of this nest--of actual angel parents." He eyed Castiel through the corner of his sights. "I guess ... I mean ... is this goodbye again?"

"It doesn't have to be," Castiel said quietly.

*****

Castiel only wanted to lock himself away in the old bedroom with Dean and their child for the rest of the night. The needs of the nest could never override the needs of his own little family. He needed to make sure Dean was okay after everything they witnessed that day, but saying goodbye to Gabriel--if only temporarily--proved more difficult than he anticipated. He just didn't have the energy to analyze his emotions.

Each door and each window needed checking. He set the baby monitor on Bobby's desk and peered into three portable cribs. For now, at least, the fledglings slept together as if most of their parents weren't at the hospital holding vigil over Hael. Dean and Sam had volunteered to remain at home with Castiel to watch over the children, not knowing if the violence was truly over or not. He counted little bodies swaddled like angel burritos and kept stuffed animals far from their faces. It was nothing short of a miracle that they managed to shield their young from most of the violence.

The refrigerator light shined into the living room. Castiel spotted a female figure swallowed by the height of her wings. She loaded half a dozen baby bottles next to the jug of orange juice and retraced her path back to the lit stove, boiling and sterilizing rubber nipples.

"Demmie--" Stopping short, Castiel squinted thinking he imagined her dark hair dripping wet over her sweater, but no, she definitely had wet hair. "Why are you wet?"

She carried on measuring crushed rose petals into a dozen more baby bottles. "Her blood was everywhere," she whispered without looking at him. "I couldn't get clean enough."

Castiel nodded and skimmed his palm over the back of her soaked head. Unconsciously, her wings ruffled and fluffed the way birds shook off a spring rain. Her mind seemed so far from both the concept of human showering and making baby bottles that he knew immediately the emotional discomfort she harbored. Nothing about her tense posture suggested she believed the violence was over as she stood stiffly in skinny jeans and the bladed boots. It looked unusually tough underneath the soft, fluffy lilac sweater hugging her vessel's healthy, curving figure. She sniffled and touched her nose absently like trying to pass off a sincere, deeply felt emotion as an itch rather than misty eyes.

"I thought you were at the hospital with the others," he probed gently.

"I was," she replied, "but six little ones need bottles by morning and it's not fair to put all of it on you and Dean. I came home to make enough bottles for tomorrow."

"We could have handled it."

"I know."

"Okay."

Castiel didn't quite know what to do. He couldn't abandon her no matter how much he wanted to go hide under the comforter with Dean, so he grabbed the filled bottles and twisted on their lids. They worked in silent unison for quite a while, even beginning to puree fruit and vegetables for a supply of the next day's baby food.

"They have her in the burn unit," Demiel said eventually. "She was awake when I left but the doctors said she'll be hospitalized for close to a month. Maybe more. They said even if she's awake tonight, burn victims sometimes turn for the worst without any warning. We've been told to be cautiously optimistic. Humans are never clear about what they mean when they have to talk about potentially bad outcomes. Anyway, she's having surgery in the morning."

"I see," Castiel said, absorbing it all. "Is she talking?"

"Not much. Mostly asking for Evelyn. And... and... you know... Sam."

"I'm sure he'll go there tomorrow," he offered carefully.

"He needs to go," she agreed. "Hael needs him."

Castiel eyed Demiel as if he expected a full-on meltdown at any moment even though huge bursts of emotion were never her way. "What about you? How are you doing?"

"It doesn't matter," she replied as she wiped down the counter with a wet sponge.

"It does to me."

Her head shook and she pushed wet chunks of hair behind her ears. "I'm alive. I survived taking on the Queen of Heaven. My son's alive and safe. I have no cause for complaint." Wiping the counter turned to harsh scrubbing around the sink. She yanked up her sleeves and compulsively washed dishes that had already been washed and left to dry. A dish slammed on the counter threatened to wake little ones in the next room.

"Demmie...." Castiel grasped one of her hands and another endangered dish. "Demmie, stop."

Floods of tears erupted against Castiel's chest and it took his reflexes a moment to catch up with her whirlwind of guilt.

"I'm a horrible person," wailed Demiel, thankfully muffled by his neck where she hid like a little girl. "I thought Hael was going to die and I was relieved. Who can be so evil? I wanted her to die." Her body shook, clutching him, as she choked out her confession. "I don't want to feel the way I do about Sam. He wants her. My jealousy made me wish a woman dead and I don't deserve to have her friendship."

"To be fair, Sam doesn't know what he wants," Castiel blurted before he really thought out a proper response. He held onto Demiel, sensing her need for the comfort of a secure embrace. "You're not a horrible person. You're struggling to process rather new and powerful emotional reactions to the world around you as it exists now."

"Do the others know?"

"About your inclination toward Sam?"

"Yes." She sniffled miserably.

"Dean knows. I suppose everyone knows now because of the ... ransom video." Bringing that up probably wasn't the greatest idea but he never could lie well.

"Oh, it's mortifying," she groaned, trying to hide her face even more. Slowly, her tears calmed, however, and she breathed deeper. As a long sigh soothed her unhappiness, she murmured, "Cas, I don't really want Hael to die. I care for her as much as I do the others in this nest even if she is her own worst enemy most of the time and I can't understand Sam's fixation on her."

"I know. I never thought you truly wanted her dead," he reassured the sentiment.

"Please don't tell anyone."

"I won't."

Demiel leaned back and swiped her fingers beneath her lashes with a trembling sigh. "I should go back to the hospital. Mael will smother her with her Florence Nightengale tendencies if nobody keeps her occupied. When I left, Eddie and Hetanel were prowling around the nurse's station demanding better pain medication." She splashed her face with cool tap water. "Somebody should be there to keep order."

"Wait, before you go, come here," Castiel urged.

Taking her elbow, he guided her to the sofa and had her sit. The one thing he needed when the world crashed down around his ears was his fledgling, and he wanted to remind her of that too. Silent and careful, he plucked the little burrito from the second portable crib and placed the sleepy bundle in her arms. She gave a blotchy, red-faced smile to her little boy wrapped in a mossy green blanket. A snuggle with a fledgling and inhaling the unconsciously familiar scent unique to their nest soothed her nerves in just the way he hoped. He seated himself beside her without intruding too much on the moment between mother and son.

"I don't know what's going to happen, Demmie, to any of us, but I still believe there's a higher purpose," said Castiel in a reflective tone. "If we weren't created, then these fledglings would have been brought up in the old ways and nothing would ever change. Perhaps this was all God's design to help end the corruption in Heaven. Perhaps not. I don't know. But what I do know is each of us has value here. We all have a purpose."

Demiel met eyes with him as she rocked Noah and patted his bottom.

"I believe there's something meaningful out there for Hael, for you, and for Sam. You may end up together, or you may not. Sam could decide in the end that he's not looking for an amorous bond after all. You'll be a good, strong, capable person no matter what happens because that's who you are. There's nothing dark in you and you should be proud of everything you've become under these circumstances. You look after the good health of everyone. You're tender and loving, but you fight like no other I've ever seen too." He patted her forearm. "I encourage you to be mindful of placing all of your fulfillment in how Sam perceives you. Not only does Sam have to understand what he wants but you and Hael do too. If Hael was here, I'd tell her the same thing. Both of you have so much to offer this nest and each other. I would hate to see anyone fall into despair and suffer a broken heart. But if your heart does break, I'm here. Dean is here. You don't have to be ashamed of it or hold it all inside. Everything is going to work out as it should in its own proper time. Okay?"

"Yeah." She nodded and it came out barely above a whisper. "I don't particularly enjoy this ... problem. I try not to let it show. The needs of the nest outweigh my personal little problems. Right now Hael's lying in the hospital and Gabriel ... he's the new King of Heaven for crying out loud ... yet I stood in the kitchen feeling sorry for myself since I came back."

"The needs of the nest are important, yes, but you're an individual developing free will too," Castiel explained. "With free will comes personal responsibility. Some, like Hael, buckle under the weight. Some, like you, adapt quite well."

It turned in her mind. "Is it real?" she questioned hesitantly.

"What?"

"My ... feelings ... for Sam."

"I believe so, yes," he replied sincerely.

Demiel fell quiet for a moment as she gazed down at Noah slumbering away in her arms. She straightened his blanket, though it didn't need straightening, and stood to lie him down in the portable crib again. Two fingertips pressed to her lips and shifted to his forehead with a burst of soft, gentle white light. She grace bonded with her son, perhaps needing the comfort more than he did.

"Hael will want her own blanket, I think. I'm going to get a few things from her apartment and go back to the hospital," said Demiel. She rose up, looking Castiel in the eye. "Make Sam come before they take her for surgery in the morning. I think it's scheduled for ten-thirty or so. Let them have time. I'd hope that she'd bring him to be if the tables were turned."

"I think she would," Castiel said.

She nodded. "I think so too."

"Wait, Demmie."

Her head tilted in that angel way. "What?"

Castiel swept between the portable cribs and skimmed fingertips through Demiel's dangling wet hair. Heat flowed through his hand, drying each strand on contact, and he left her dark locks fair more comfortable and presentable.

"Don't attract unwanted attention with sopping wet hair in the throes of winter," he advised with a bit of a lopsided smile.

"Oh." A sheepish grin dropped her eyes. "Thanks, Cas." Without effort, she threw her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Honestly, I couldn't ask for a better brother."

With a thin smile, he kissed her forehead. "Now go be a good sister to Hael."

*****

By the time Castiel sent Gabriel and then Demiel on their way, two of the fledglings fussed and whimpered about wet diapers. He settled them again and checked both the baby monitor and each of the door locks. Really, he didn't have much left in him.

Seeing Dean passed out cold with James sharing a pillow came as a disappointment. He needed time with them, but as he observed the rise and fall of their chest in the blue glow of the quiet television, he couldn't bring himself to wake them. So he took great care in keeping silent as he kicked off his shoes and stripped out of his clothes. Nights like that made him wish he could sleep just to have that bonding experience with his little family.

As he slid under the comforter on his side of the bed, Dean mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep and rolled over, slinging an arm over Castiel's abdomen. The angel minded the baby before Dean squished him and the three of them wound around each other seamlessly, as if they were always designed to be together.

"Hey, babe," mumbled Dean, slurred and drowsy.

Castiel whispered, "Go back to sleep," as he rubbed the hunter's forearm.

"I had a dream," Dean continued mumbling. "Squirt was like twenty and tall like us. He was home on some college break. A kid of mine in college." The idea made him chuckle into Castiel's neck. "He was gonna take over the diner. Said one of us needed business school. Sammy took his side but I wanted him to stay home."

"Sounds accurate. Perhaps you had a prophecy." Lazily, Castiel stroked his wrist.

"Mh-hmm." He sounded sleepy again, but managed to ask, "Anything 'bout Hael?"

"She's in the burn unit. They'll take her for surgery in the morning."

"She gonna make it?"

"They don't know."

Dean fell silent for a time, making Castiel think he'd gone to sleep again. "Make Sammy go see her. He's avoiding it," he murmured after some thought. "You're his best friend, I guess. Maybe he'll listen to you."

"Demmie already delivered these orders," said Castiel, smirking a little.

"Okay, cool."

"Cool," Castiel parroted.

An abrupt shift in weight brought Dean up on his elbow. Castiel blinked up at strong features softened by drowsiness and quietly savored the moment to stare unabashedly into green eyes. They were a little duller than James' green, as if the trials of the Winchester life robbed Dean of some of his luster. He derailed Castiel's thoughts, though, as he cupped the angel's jawline and lightly brushed his nose across his cheek. Letting out a hefty, slow sigh told Castiel that he was finally letting himself absorb what happened to them that day.

"It's weird now," Dean said without pretense of being tough. "I could've lost you today or you could've lost me. Just like that. Boom. Gone. Years stolen from us just when life started getting good."

"We're still here and life is going to be wonderful," replied Castiel with a slow hand passing through Dean's hair. "Gabriel took the throne. He's going to protect us and all the fledglings of the new host. Life is just beginning for you and me. James will grow and--" he took a shot "--perhaps he'll have a little brother one day the way you and Sam had each other."

"That'd be cool," said Dean a bit doubtfully as if he didn't quite believe a good life was possible for his family.

"Everything will be okay, love," whispered Castiel. He brought Dean's brow to his lips and kissed the worry lines. "Once Gabriel establishes his throne, the violence against us will cease."

Dean turned over the possibility of peace in his mind. Eventually, he lifted his eyes to Castiel's again and offered a timid smile. "I kinda wanna cook in the diner. Or man the barbecue. Like the did back in the day in huge pits out back of the restaurant. I could do that, I bet."

"I think you could," said Castiel softly.

But Dean snapped back into hunter mode with no more than a blink. "Gotta get Hael patched up first."

Perhaps one day, when Dean felt safer, he wouldn't have to hide those glimpses into his true heart. Castiel let it pass without comment. He knew what a struggle it was for Dean to share his hopes, dreams, and vulnerabilities with him in those dark bedtime conversations. Castiel always stowed them away, never forgetting the moments.

Chapter Text

It took four surgeries over the course of five weeks before the doctors even entertained the idea of letting Hael come home. Thanksgiving entailed the nest crowding into her hospital room feasting on Dean and Demiel's cooking that had been carefully packed away in a parade of Tupperware containers. But when she still wasn't discharged ten days later, Castiel wondered if they'd celebrate their first Christmas in the hospital too.

Sometimes he offered to help her with the healing process--to speed up new skin growth over the burns--but she only smiled and said, "I have to be human now." Conversations switched to happier things after that and he never pushed her harder. A human's free will had to be respected. If she refused angelic healing, Castiel had to comply.

"I think she's okay. Least in her head," Sam prompted two weeks before Christmas when Castiel asked him about it. "Started physical therapy a few days ago. They gotta teach her to do stuff again."

"Is her chest healing?" asked Castiel.

"Not as fast as her stomach. I haven't seen it or anything but I read her chart whenever I visit."

"Hey!" Dean popped out from between Christmas trees lined in meticulous rows. "Quit gossipping and guard this tree here. I gotta grab a guy to pay for it." He carried James on his hip with an arm latched around the baby's heavy winter coat. As he charged into the garden center of the hardware store, he tugged a knitted hat down over James' ears until the fuzzy ball stood upright on his little baby skull.

"This is a pagan tradition," Castiel muttered. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and strolled alongside Sam.

Chuckling, Sam bent a branch and seemed to test the strength of the needles. "We never used to do this Christmas stuff. Not really religious or anything. Dean gets a little nuts when we do holidays, though."

Castiel nodded. "He's been baking."

"Baking?"

"Cookies shaped like humans with colored sugar decoration." A memory played itself out in Castiel's mind, prompting soft laughter. "Two days ago he baked a lot of cookies and I didn't pay attention until I saw them after dinner. I laughed--it was painful, hard laughter--because the cookies had angel wings. Dean didn't seem to realize what he did and he looked completely horrified with himself for baking images of angels."

It amused Sam and the faintest signs of aging bled through his laughing smile. The weight of putting Sam through so much over the last seven months--or even longer if he really thought about it--settled heavier on Castiel's shoulders.

"Are you doing all right, Sam?" he blurted, thankfully taking on a quiet tone.

The younger Winchester folded his arms to fend off the cold South Dakota afternoon and he shrugged. "I'm cool," he offered generally, but allowed himself to go deeper after a moment. "It's been over a month without any attacks, so how bad can I be? Just wish we knew what Gabriel's doing up there. The calm between storms is kinda stomach churning. Like, are we really safe now?"

"I'm asking about you, not the nest," corrected Castiel gently.

Again, Sam shrugged. He hesitated. "I think I'm letting go."

"Of Hael?"

He nodded. "She ... I'm not s'pposed to tell you this yet ... but she's thinking about going back to Chicago with Eddie. She's taking Bobby's name so she can get financial aid and things like that, which Bobby's already agreed to help her get on her feet. I guess he's claiming her as his daughter. She's talking about nothing but getting well so she can go to art school."

"What?" Stunned, Castiel gaped at Sam, uncertain of how to process his nest keeping secrets from him. "Why don't I know about this?"

Sam gave him the utmost sincerity and respect, looking him in the eye as he simply said, "Because you'll wear her down and talk her out of it to keep her close in the nest. She's trying to be strong and independent. Bobby only agreed to keep quiet for a little while on the promise that she tell you soon."

"But you're telling me now...."

Shrugging, Sam admitted it with a nod. "Sometimes a guy's gotta do what's best for his family."

*****

For an angel, Castiel could sometimes fall into rather human laziness. He didn’t particularly enjoy nighttime cold either. So when Demiel asked him to take out the kitchen garbage, he tied off the bag and tossed it over the third floor railing onto the ground below. It wasn’t the nicest thing to do but he intended to carry it out to the dumpster before the humans in the building woke for work in the morning.

Just as he came to his apartment door again, he noticed a dark lump at the bottom of the stairwell. Dean sat down there, bent over his knees in the freezing snowy air. The slope of his shoulders rose and tensed into squared lines as if he struggled under the weight of something secret.

Quietly, Castiel descended the stairwell with his hands stuck in his leather jacket’s pockets. He lowered onto the step beside Dean and observed his downcast profile.

"How long have you been home?" he asked cautiously after a long period of silence.

"A while," Dean said.

"Has something happened?"

Dean shook his head but it didn’t improve his apparent internal struggle. A box turned end over end between his fingers—black with rounded corners.

"I’ve been carrying around this damn thing for over a week," he admitted. "It’s been sitting like a rock in my pocket. There hasn’t been a good time to show you though. Hael and everything. I played pool with Sammy tonight and he said I should just do it."

"Do what?" It sounded like Castiel was supposed to pick up on the nuances in Dean’s confession but he wasn’t that great with human subtlety yet.

Dean took him by the hand and dropped the box in his palm. “Here.”

Hesitation gave Castiel pause. He pried the box open and found a pair of identical platinum rings resting in velvet slots. Each ring came set with three diamonds spread over the width of the finger. In spite of the diamonds, the rings appeared strikingly masculine and simple. They resembled wedding rings but Castiel didn’t even realize marriage was on the table with Dean. Of course he never even thought of marriage at all beyond an abstract human concept. Yet he lived among humans. He loved one of them tremendously.

"Spent a month’s pay on those things," Dean explained. "First I just wanted to give you the ring for Christmas but Sammy thinks that was just an excuse to talk myself into thinking about … y'know … getting married … which I guess is what I really want to do."

Castiel swallowed hard and gripped the box tighter like it might fly out of his hand. “You don’t sound very certain that’s what you want, Dean.”

"I am," he returned, looking over at Castiel. "I just didn’t know it ‘til Sammy spelled it out. And I know they're not that impressive. Not worth much. Hell, those diamonds aren't bigger than chips swept off the floor but I wanted James to be part of it. He's the reason we pulled our heads out of our asses anyway and--"

"--Dean, stop." The angel watched a wash of sharp colors burst over the hunter's soul, signaling his anxiety. "You don't have to marry me if--"

"--No, I want to. I-I mean if you do."

"Are … Are you really proposing?"

Dean glanced around at the stairwell and the snow glowing against yellow streetlights. "I didn’t wanna do it like this."

"How are you supposed to do it?" Honestly, Castiel didn't understand the regret in his tone.

"I dunno," he replied. "Big expensive dinner, candlelight, whatever else goes with all that. Then I guess I'm supposed to get on one knee and say a bunch of flowery crap about how much I love you and then... then I'm supposed to say will you marry me."

"I see." The depiction played itself out in Castiel's mind for a long moment. "But is that really us, Dean?"

"Not really."

"Then don't do it that way. It's us, not everybody else watching. What's right for us?"

Dean eyed Castiel and took in what he said as if it never occurred to him that they didn't have to be what everybody else was. No cookie cutter lives came before them and no cookie cutter lives awaited them in the future either.

Warmth bled through Castiel's hand draped over Dean's thigh. "What do you want, Dean?"

Laughing soft and low in his chest, Dean closed the tight gap between them with a hard, determined kiss. His body relaxed and sagged against Castiel with the relief of a man who gave himself over wholly to the family life he never knew he wanted. The angel looped an arm around his waist, perfectly happy to surrender to cold kisses on that snowy December night.

"You. James. A fixed, permanent home." The words tumbled out of Dean's mouth without hesitation. "I wanna lock it down. Make it official. If anything happens to one of us, then the other will have legal rights with our kids and money and all that stuff."

"Kids?" Castiel's brow arched. "Does this mean you're warming up to having another child?"

Dean chuckled against his mouth. “You’re never going to give up on that, are you?”

"No," he replied through a smirk. "James should have a sibling like you and your brother have each other."

A dramatic sigh and a teasing smirk of his own gave new levity to Dean. “What have you done to me?” he whispered.

"I made you human," Castiel whispered back.

Dean popped a ring out of the box and tried it on Castiel's third finger of his left hand. "We're gonna do it. Get married. You gotta give me more time on the kid thing but I'm not saying no. Okay? I need time to feel secure that Gabriel's really taken the throne upstairs and what happened to Sammy and Hael won't happen again. No kids of mine are gonna suffer for who we are."

*****

The ring still felt new and awkward on Castiel's finger when he arrived at the hospital the next morning. Dean had wanted to put the rings away until they actually got married but Castiel refused. And so, both men each began a new day with a new adornment. That morning, the angel carried a potted miniature Christmas tree under one arm for Hael's room, Dean having insisted that she get one too. Whatever made Dean happy was fine by him even if he didn't always understand the traditions.

"Oh, morning, Castiel," greeted a nurse called Marge as she changed the sheets on an empty bed. "How’s the family?"

"Quite well. Thank you." It concerned him that Hael wasn’t there. He didn’t hear any movement in the attached bathroom either. "Um… I brought a tree. For Christmas."

"Aw, it’s cute! Put it over here in the window where she can look at it."

"Okay," he agreed. "Where is she?"

"Therapy," Marge said easily. "She’s doing great. They’re working on rebuilding her strength and flexibility before fine motor skills. She’s pretty determined to reclaim her independence."

Hael had been in the hospital for so long that the nest knew most of the staff on her floor and they knew her family. Over the month she spent recovering in that room, the nest brought in things to make her feel at home. Demiel bought two of the largest, fluffiest pillows Castiel had ever seen but Hael adored the pain-free material. Eddie managed to hook up a DVD player to the hospital television and Dean occasionally sneaked in for visits and indulged his taste for dramas. And Mael decorated her walls with pictures of everyone in the nest, along with the fledglings, but not before Sam edited out their baby wings.

The nurse tipped her head at a sympathetic angle. “You seem worried today. Wanna go see her in action?”

"In therapy? Is that allowed?"

"Sure," the nurse replied with a smile.

Directions proved simple enough and Castiel found the physical therapy facility two floors below with a few right-hand turns. The vast expanse of the grand physical therapy room impressed him with organized tables topped with mats and strength training equipment lining the walls. Castiel sensed the numbness of paralysis and strokes as well as the pain and stiffness in skeletomuscular disabilities.

A few burn patients learning to cope with new lives congregated in one area toward the back. He found Hael there, seated across a narrow table from her therapist--her face scrunched tightly in discomfort as soft tissues stretched and joints bent.

Castiel joined her, briefly shaking hands with her therapist, and pulled a rolling stool to the table. "Good morning, Miss Singer," he said to Hael in a pointed, low voice.

Color drained from her face as her eyes lifted to his. It threw her off so much that her therapist flexed her arm a great deal further than Castiel remembered she could bend it before. There was no other way to show that he knew in front of a room of strangers though. As she stared helplessly, knowing she'd been discovered, he leaned over and patted her unused hand. Bandages needed to be changed. They felt old--something he only learned out of necessity with her injuries.

"I admire your courage," he offered with carefully chosen words.

Was it relief? Numbness? Regardless, Hael nodded slowly and allowed a smile despite the pain she certainly felt in physical therapy.

"I think we're done for today," said the therapist. "You've done very well, Hael. Three degrees of improvement in range of motion in your right shoulder and five degrees in your right elbow. It doesn't sound like much now but I think you'll eventually regain full use of your arm."

"What about my left one?" she asked.

"Well," replied the therapist in much deeper reserve, "with these injuries, people typically become much more reliant on one arm over the other. But it's early."

Though Castiel recognized the doubt in the woman's voice, he too felt the need to reassure Hael. She was an artist--a person who depended on her functional body to create beautiful things--and that gave her a sense of worth in the world. That alone meant she certainly wouldn't give up on her recovery.

And Castiel offered to push Hael in her wheelchair back to her room rather than wait for an orderly. She seemed wrung through by the exertion of stretching and strength training.

"Sam told you," she surmised in the elevator.

"Don't be angry with him," replied Castiel, "because I'm not angry with you. Okay?"

Hael looked up at him over her shoulder. "Do you forbid it?"

"It's not my place to forbid anything. This isn't Heaven. You're a grown woman and I'm not here to lord over you." He maneuvered around her and pushed the emergency stop button, bringing the elevator to a quick halt. Kneeling beside her wheelchair, he folded his wrists over the arm. "I just want to be certain you're doing this for the right reasons--that you're not running from your problems. Trust me when I say they'll follow you."

Her eyes fell and she brushed her fingertips over a fraying corner edging her bandages. Contentment smoothed lines across her forehead that had always been there from the minute she showed up with a starving fledgling on Bobby's porch.

"I can't accept being human so long as I'm living among angels. I must go and be with my own kind until I can stand on my own two feet," she explained in a sincere moment of clarity.

Castiel nodded, gaining a better understanding of her mind. "Do you intend to stay away forever? What I mean is--"

"--It's not forever," she replied. "I can't be myself in this nest if I don't know who I am without my grace. Give me time to experience human life and I'll come home when I can serve the nest without ... without slipping ... like I tend to do when I can't handle things."

He tilted his head.

"I'm well aware of my moments," she admitted. "I know I'm not sane."

"Then do you think you can handle art school?"

Determined and perhaps a bit defiant, Hael nodded. She leaned over and released the emergency stop, saying, "I have a plan. Eddie, Demmie, and Bobby have been helping me."

"Oh, have they?"

"Take me to my bed and I'll tell you everything," she said. "I'm tired."

"Of course."

She wasn't lying about being tired, so Castiel complied as long as it kept open the lines of communication. Worrying over Hael took a backseat to relief in the news that Bobby was involved to such an extent. He steered Hael through the hospital corridors and kept a careful grip on her IV hooked over the wheelchair.

Getting her into bed and managing not to grab the worst of her burns while keeping an eye on her IV line proved so challenging that Castiel considered sending baskets of flowers to every nurse in the hospital. He didn't know how they handled everything. He situated her in bed, pulled blankets over her waist, and took stock of how some of her bandages looked dirty and bled through in spots. They needed changing badly and he wanted it done while he was still there to supervise. He buzzed the button on the wall over her bed between two pictures of their last big family dinner.

"Hael," he began while they waited, sitting on the edge of her bed, "I need to know what you're doing about your daughter. I'm not opposed to you going to school, but Evelyn--"

"--I'm not any condition to be a mother, Cas."

He hated agreeing with her but he knew better than to say so.

"Demmie's going to raise Evelyn as her own. Before you say anything, it was her offer. Two weeks ago, she visited and we talked. We talked about everything between us and we both cried and cried. She stayed here all night with me. I told her all of my burdens and she told me all of hers. We prayed together. Do you remember what it's like to pray, Cas?"

He shook his head. It had been far too long.

"Try to pray with someone. It helps even if no one up there's listening," she said as she squeezed his hand. "We worked everything out. There are no hard feelings. She feels she's been called to help me and I feel my fledgling has the best chance with her. Evelyn and Noah will be raised together as twins the way Mael and I were--except they'll be free to grow up and be whatever they want. So when I'm well enough to leave, Demmie becomes Mommy and I'll be Auntie Hael. And making this decision impressed Bobby so much that he came to see me a few days later. He's grouchy on the outside but he's honestly a tender old man when you get him alone."

"I think so too," said Castiel, nodding.

Hael smiled contentedly, resting on her pillow. "Bobby told me how everything works out there with school and joining the real world. We made a deal."

"A deal?"

"I'll be Bobby's daughter, publicly, and he'll help me get into school if I spend six months in a hospital for people with anxiety, depression, and mental human ailments like that."

It surprised Castiel but he masked the reaction. "Is that what you want?"

"Yeah," she said softly. Moisture rimmed her eyes. "I'm just relieved there's a place out there to help me. I'm so tired of being afraid every minute of the day. Bobby understands. There were things about his mother and ... well, anyway ... he promised never to abandon me as long as I want to get better, which I do. So I have his name now. Six months in treatment and then I hope to be well enough to begin my artistic education."

For the time being, Castiel set aside any disappointment he might have felt about everyone making plans without his input. He folded her hand between his own and looked her square in the eye. "I'm asking you if you're certain about this. You're changing your whole life rather quickly, so if you have and doubt, you can tell me. It's just us here. I'll stand up for you."

"Cas," she said with a reassuring smile, "I've had over a month in this room with just my thoughts and me."

"And Dean's movies."

"And Dean's movies," repeated Hael. "I know what I'm doing. I'm certain about this. Really, Cas. My fledgling deserves a guardian who can give her the upbringing she deserves. And I owe it to myself to give being a human woman a fighting chance, which I can't seem to do surrounded by angels. Can you understand that?"

"I can," Castiel said, feeling a bit more emotional than he expected at the prospect of her leaving home.

"I promise I will come home," she whispered.

"School vacations?"

"Yes."

"Thanksgiving?"

"Yes."

"Christmas?"

"Yes, Cas, yes," Hael said with a bubbling burst of laughter.

A warm smile filled Castiel's cheeks. "Okay," he agreed, nodding, "but you have to stay long enough for the marriage ceremony."

Her brows furrowed just as a nurse strolled into the hospital room. Hael raised up on her pillows and said, "What marriage ceremony?"

"Mine," Castiel replied coyly as he flashed the new ring on his hand.

"Oh! Oh!" she screeched. A bandaged hand snatched his fingers in wonderful excitement. "Dean, right?"

Castiel laughed--one of the rare explosions of laughter straight from his belly. "Of course. Who else would it be?"

The nurse craned her neck around while she checked Hael's IV bag and whistled. "Well, you go, boy. Snagged you a good man, huh?"

"Yes." Strangely, he blushed. He was never prone to such an odd physiological reaction but it happened. "Yes, I found a good man, and I have a good family."

Chapter Text

The fallen angel Hael was released from the hospital three days before Christmas, though she still needed help getting dressed and taking care of her burns. Mael never left her side and became an admirable sister and nurse, setting aside years of differences that divided them for so many years. Hael regained her strength day by day, attended regular physical therapy sessions, checkups, and prepared for moving to Chicago in the springtime.

Just before Dean's birthday, the nest packed up a car caravan and took a road trip to California. It satisfied the Winchesters' wanderlust and gave them all a taste of warmer weather, injecting them with new life.

It seemed Bobby took to having a daughter faster than they expected. As soon as Hael showed signs of fatigue at Grauman's Chinese Theatre, none of them had a chance to help her before Bobby unfolded her wheelchair and navigated her through the rest of the day. Dean and Castiel exchanged knowing smirks from time to time. Pointing it out would only scare Bobby back into his crusty old shell, so they said nothing, even when Sam elbowed them and chuckled behind his fist.

A quiet, unobtrusive marriage ceremony on the beach without fluffy, religious language came on the fourth day of their trip. Dean and Castiel were never interested in a stupidly huge wedding--not that they knew many people outside of the nest who would have attended anyway--but both of them agreed from the start that ritual and ceremony just wasn't for them.

Surrounded by the nest and gurgling, cooing fledglings, they exchanged simple vows read by a justice of the peace. The ocean rolled behind them, too cold for swimming in January, but uninhabited enough for privacy and family pictures.

Who knew when they'd all be together like that again?

As darkness fell over the beach, Sam and Hetanel constructed a bonfire while Demiel unpacked coolers of food. Some of them developed an interest in eating, sort of like a hobby rather than human survival. They feasted together under the stars while the babies slept in their ever-necessary portable mesh cribs. It certainly wasn't a big flashy wedding or an extravagant reception, but that didn't matter to either groom. The rings on their fingers mattered. Building their family mattered. Raising happy fledglings mattered.

"All right. Quiet down, quiet down," Sam said, raising his voice over the chatter around the bonfire. "I figure we oughta do the gifts before the kids gotta go back to the hotel for bottles and stuff."

"Gifts?" Castiel questioned.

"Yeah, what gives?" added Dean. He gave Castiel’s hand a casual squeeze with their fingers entwined on the arms of their nylon beach chairs.

Sam stuck the butt of his beer bottle in the sand for safekeeping and grabbed a box from behind his chair. As he passed it over to Dean, he teased, "You better only get married once because thinking of a gift was a giant pain in the ass."

A peculiar sort of self-conscious smile indicated that Dean hadn’t considered receiving gifts upon his marriage like any other couple. He glanced over at Castiel, who encouraged him with a private smile, and Dean ripped open the blue striped wrapping paper. His face bloomed and brightened in the firelight as he peered into the box.

"You kidding me, Sammy?" Dean laughed, delighted.

He showed the nest a matching pair of nickel-plated revolvers with inlaid mother of pearl handles. As Dean turned them over in his hands one by one, Castiel sensed significant age on them. They weren’t to be used in hunting or even target practice, he guessed. They were antiques--beautiful killing tools made with the precision and artistry of the nineteenth century. Dean passed one of them over to Castiel, who eagerly felt out the story behind the weapon.

"Awesome," murmured Dean, passing fingertips over the barrel.

Castiel nodded. "Where did you find a set of guns?"

"Story is Winchester made ‘em himself when he married his wife. When he died, she went a little nuts and built the funhouse mansion, you know? Sold these guns along with a ton of other guns too. Couldn’t stand looking at ‘em anymore. I found the real ones in some old man’s private collection and after I proved that we’re blood relatives, he sold ‘em to me." Sam took a swig from his beer and seemed quite proud of himself. "Now you got something valuable to pass to James when he gets big enough."

"Shit," Dean mumbled in awe. He grabbed Sam across the divide between their chairs and hugged him around the neck. "Thanks, little brother. Means a lot to us."

"Yes, thank you, Sam," said Castiel with a warm smile.

"Geez, boy, you trying to outdo the rest of us?" Bobby teased gruffly. He passed a box of his own down the line to Castiel. "Figure you’re gonna want this one, Cas."

Inside the box, the angel felt out a rounded stone shape. Something carved with appendages and a head. He leaned closer to the fire and examined the figurine. Dean leaned in close at his side. Ancient and dark gray marble, he identified, the exaggerated shapes of both a male and a female appeared in the fire’s glow.

"Fertility deity. Mesopotamian. From my private stash," said the old man, smirking at the boys. "It's nuts. Got used to this whole granddaddy thing. You boys better keep my house full of shitty diapers and irritating noisy toys ‘til I’m retired. Got me?"

Laughing, Dean’s head dropped into his hands. Sam’s shoulders shook with laughter too as he slapped his brother’s back. Titters of laughter surrounded the bonfire, from Castiel too, since they all knew of his desire to have another child soon.

"It’s perfect, Bobby, and I think it’s entirely necessary," Castiel declared with a triumphant smile thrown Dean’s way. "Entirely necessary."

Seated in her wheelchair, Hael leaned over and struggled to lift a flat parcel wrapped in brown paper. Her twin, sitting at her side, offered a hand and the two of them gave it over to Dean. With a quick swallow from his beer bottle, he winked at the ladies and tore open the paper. A carved wooden frame emerged first. Colors muted by the darkened nighttime beach formed familiar lines and shapes of Bobby's home with the Impala parked off to the side next to Castiel's red car.

"Oh, did you paint this?" Castiel inquired.

Hael nodded. "It's from both of us. Mael paid for the frame."

"This is great. Awesome size for above the living room couch," suggested Dean as he leaned over and studied the details. "You're already painting again, huh?"

"I tried. It's not my best but I don't have money for a better gift. Sam brought my things to the hospital and my therapist helped me do it all for dexterity exercises. I'm not very good anymore because I get tired so fast and I have to take painkillers, but--"

"--No, you're an artist," interjected Hetanel, "and that will never change."

"He's right. It's wonderful and I'll be proud to have it in my home," said Castiel, getting up long enough to hug her around the shoulders.

"I've got a hanging gift too," Demiel said. "Can I?"

"Oh yes, I know what this one is," replied Hael, delightedly clapping her hands together. "Give it to Dean. Let him see it first."

"Okay." Smiling, Demiel swiped the sand from the back of her sweater dress as she came around the fire and gave Dean a smaller, flat parcel. "It's for the diner, really, but I want you to see it first. It's really for you and Sam, and James when he's big enough to understand."

Castiel lingered by Hael and observed as Dean unwrapped a rectangular piece of polished dark wood with a black plague mounted to the front. He seemed unsure at first until he read the gilt words. Then his eyes softened, his lips parted, and he glanced quickly at his brother to read it too. Curiosity burned in Castiel but he waited, knowing this was really for Dean, and it didn't bother him at all. The marriage was the gift for the angel.

"Well?" Bobby broke the silence. "Whatcha got there?"

The older brother opened his mouth and croaked, a voice broken by emotion. Hael nudged Castiel--a hint to deal with the hunter's human sense of grief. He looped his arms around Dean's shoulders, knotted hands resting on his chest. Dean squeezed his wrist and, taking the cue that he couldn't read it, Sam took the plaque and read it to the nest.

"Mary's Kitchen--Founded in loving memory of Mary Campbell Winchester by her sons, Sam and Dean, and their family," Sam read aloud. "Cooking in her Lawrence, Kansas, kitchen for her family built Mary's collection of recipes, which are used today to serve new generations of families building joyful memories together. You are invited to come in and enjoy the homestyle cooking and family atmosphere that Mary loved with her husband and children."

"It's going in the entranceway of the diner," said Demiel in her soft, ladylike way. "Only if you approve of it though."

Dean said nothing. Instead, he freed himself of Castiel's arms and marched across the sand and gathered up Demiel in a tight hug. She stood on her tiptoes to reach him and kissed his cheek with private endearments shared between them. Castiel noticed Mael dabbing fingertips around her eyes and Sam studying the plaque as if looking down at his mother's image. As only the closest friend could, Castiel silently squeezed Sam's shoulder. They'd all come such a long way from strangers who only found each other out of common rebellion.

"Really, Cas? You had to take his name?"

The heavy moment turned on a head as Gabriel appeared, trudging closer, trailed by Bethel and a third angel. He raked a hand through his sandy brown hair and grinned at the lot of them.

"I... I don't have a surname to give," Castiel replied, utterly confused and uncertain if he could have a good laugh at the tuxedo printed on Gabriel's t-shirt or not. "I didn't know if you would come. We haven't seen you in more than a month."

"There's a lot of paperwork with taking up Heaven's throne," the new monarch said, the words laced with sarcasm. He hooked a thumb behind him. "Check out my personal security detail. I'm like Obama now."

"Oh for crying out loud," Bobby mumbled under his breath.

Gabriel flashed the old man a cheeky smile and, seeing Hael in her wheelchair, flipped an internal switch to sincerity as he kissed her forehead and whispered, "Hello, princess. Glad to see you're doing better. You feeling okay? Gonna let me do a little angel doctor work on your injuries?"

"No, I'm okay," she replied quietly. "I've got to accept my humanity."

"Angels have been healing humans since the beginning of time," he countered.

"Not this one. I have to learn to depend on myself."

Bobby reached over and patted her knee. “Good girl.”

"Alrighty then. You just pray if you decide you don’t wanna pop those pain pills anymore." Gabriel rose up to his full height and said to the rest of them. "I don’t have a lot of time. Important kingly stuff to do. I’m gonna borrow the newlyweds for a hot minute."

No one objected. In fact, as Dean and Castiel strolled with Gabriel further away from the bonfire into the darkness, the nest drifted into chatting, laughing, and drinking among themselves. James had no understanding that the King of Heaven plucked him from his portable crib for their walk. He’d grown quite attached to the fledgling, swaying slightly as he walked with the little one in his arms.

"You got bigger since last month, didn’t you, Bug?" Gabriel said in a surprisingly tender tone.

Something deeply buried in the catacombs of Castiel’s ancient mind tried to recall a moment from his past but it never quite rose to the surface. Dean linked hands with Castiel as they drifted into darker recesses of the beach where the affection wouldn’t be seen but it did little to bring Castiel back to reality. That tenor, that softness—it struck like a tuning dork and reverberated for so long that he wondered if time stopped.

Looking back, the bonfire turned solid and unmoving. His family resembled mannequins in perfect, happy poses as if advertising beach fashion for the mild California winter.

"Why did you stop time?" he blurted.

Dean’s green eyes, a bit glassy with alcohol, shot back across the beach. “The hell?”

"I needed to be sure we wouldn’t be interrupted or overheard," Gabriel explained. "What’s the fun of having all these new juiced up powers if I don’t take them out for a test drive once in a while? Isn’t that right, Bug? Yes, it is."

Dean squeezed Castiel’s hand.

"Has something happened?" As always, Castiel expected the worst.

Laughing, Gabriel tilted his head. “Yeah, you two got hitched. People give wedding presents. That’s still the thing in human culture last I checked. Just gotta give you my gift is all.”

"You had to stop time to do that?" Dean asked skeptically.

"Yup," came the new king’s nonchalant response. "Kinda had to bend a few rules to do it. Don’t need anyone eavesdropping." He balanced James in one arm and reached around into his back jeans pocket with the other. A pastel envelope appeared and he handed it to Castiel.

Dean pretended not to be that interested as Castiel slid a finger into the envelope flap and ripped the glue. Truth be told, both of them wondered quite curiously what on earth the newly ascended King of Heaven could possibly have given them for a wedding present. In some way, Castiel half expected a hot pink blender to pop out of the envelope. Gabriel always enjoyed ridiculous jokes along those lines. Nevertheless, only a card sat in the envelope and Dean swiped a thumb over his iPhone to create light on it.

A HUMAN SOUL HAS BEEN CREATED IN YOUR HONOR.

They looked at each other and then they looked to Gabriel in one smooth motion. At least Castiel didn’t have to feel like the only one who didn’t grasp it right away because Dean seemed just as lost.

Gabriel shrugged. “Prayers come up to me now.”

Looking at the card again, Castiel began to understand.

"You started praying again, Cas. A day or two after you got that ring if I’ve got my time right. Said you—"

"—I prayed for a content family and a child in the future who could love an angel for a father and an angel for a brother," Castiel interrupted, overcome by the desire for Dean to hear it in his own voice. "I asked for the strength to keep my family happy."

"Call me a stork," Gabriel said quietly.

"Wait," said Dean with a hand raised. "You made another kid for us?"

"Not exactly. I created a new soul. I have the mad skills to do that now. This soul’s gonna hang out upstairs with me until you My Two Dads wanna call it into a little pooping, screaming body," Gabriel explained in his own colorful language. "Fact is you guys can’t just have a baby at random. This is a blended family that makes the Kardashians look meek and human."

"Not all of them are," Castiel quipped.

"Yeah," chuckled Gabriel. "Wait ‘til Kimmy-Kim finds out she bred with a demon." He turned serious again in the next breath. "Point is any human kid you bring into this family’s gotta be made of the right stuff to take interspecies parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. I created a good, strong soul that can take Winchester pressure. Nothing’s gonna scare this kid."

"Free will though?" asked Dean in a faded tone as if he wanted to be excited but he wasn’t sure yet.

The king nodded. “Of course.”

Newlyweds looked each other over for any sign of whether they should accept or reject the offer. Castiel clutched the card thinking of the possibilities of James having a little brother or sister at some point down the road. Such thoughts always gave him warmth and contentment. Dean, on the other hand, thought of more practical matters. Money, safety, a stable home.

"Are we safe?" Dean asked pointedly.

Adjusting the fledgling on his arm, Gabriel nodded without reservation. “I wasn’t sure at first if I even wanted to be king. I only killed what I saw as a threat to Cas here but I didn’t think ahead when I did it. You know?”

"I’m not shocked."

"Yeah, well, I went back home and got to work on rounding up the winged folks who were ordered to see you all dead," Gabriel continued. "I thought hey, I can do this. It’s not so bad being king. All the stuff I didn’t like before, I have the power to change now. Especially the way the little ones are placed with guardians and what they’re taught. But the first thing I did was toss the threats to hits nest in Heaven’s jail. Once I did that, everybody knew I wasn’t gonna screw around and they jumped on the Gabe train. Long story short, you’re safe. Have nineteen kids like that chick in Arkansas if if floats your marital boat."

Dean chuckled and dropped his eyes to the ground, visibly relaxed then. And as Dean relaxed, so did Castiel. “Don’t give Cas ideas like that,” he joked.

"Cas, well," said Gabriel to Dean, "I know I kinda screwed him up when I vamoosed and I’m the reason old boy’s got daddy issues now. Well, our real dad didn’t help anything either, you know. But he’s gone and I’m still Cas’ dad by adoption. I’m staying on the throne to protect him and I’m doing what I can to give him what he wants."

"I can respect that."

Dean unexpectedly stuck out his hand. The king peered at it for a moment but accepted it and they tugged each other into a shoulder slapping hug between men.

"You find the oven when you’re ready and I’ll pop the bun into it, okay?" Gabriel said on Dean’s shoulder.

Once they let go, Castiel stepped in and pulled Gabriel into a hug of his own. James shifted in his sleep between them but had long since gotten used to being squashed in the middle of hugs. Part of him dissolved into the fledgling nicknamed Bean who cried when he came face to face with a dinosaur but grew into the fierce angel that took on Lucifer for a human named Dean. He squeezed his archangel guardian.

"Thank you," he murmured.

*****

Two of Bobby’s vans loaded with five angels, six fledglings, and four drunk humans caravaned back to their hotel from the beach somewhere close to two in the morning.

Castiel glanced over at Dean flopped in the passenger seat, too drunk to drive. He smiled to himself with his hands carefully placed at ten and two. The celebrations got a little wild once Gabriel left and many of them jumped into the cold ocean fully dressed. Saltwater hung in the air. Low conversation wafted in and out between car seats of sleeping little ones.

Castiel couldn’t have asked for a better night to get married.

Sam’s reflection caught Castiel’s eye in the rear view mirror as he leaned over from the back bench. Folding his arms over the back of Demiel’s seat, he watched her fingers twist through long clumps of wet dark hair for a moment.

"So you ever been in the ocean before?" Sam asked quietly.

Of course Castiel eavesdropped as he drove along a massive highway. His hypersensitive angelic hearing could have heard Sam’s internal thoughts if he tried hard enough.

Demiel craned her head around and shook her head. “I never had a reason.”

"Oh, not even for fun?"

"Fun was never on an angel’s agenda. If we were sent to earth, there was a reason for it," she explained.

Sam considered it, leaning on his forearm and observing her from the side.”I guess I get that,” he said. “My dad never really let my brother and me have any fun when we were kids. It was always about shooting practice and learning to fight. Bobby was the one who make sure we saw baseball games and stuff.”

"I couldn’t imagine denying Noah or Evelyn a fun adventure like swimming in the ocean in the middle of the night," Demiel said with a glance at her baby in the rear car seat next to James.

"You want to do something fun tomorrow?"

The question surprised Castiel in the soft tone Sam adopted. It wasn’t friendly. It finally shifted into something more for him, though carefully, like the way a child drifted into sleep. He glanced at them in the rear view mirror again and considered waking Dean to watch too, but he was afraid of scaring Sam back into his shell.

"Together? Or with the whole nest?" Her question pointed to a cryptic need for clarification.

It wasn’t easy to see in the dark van, but it looked like Sam smirked just a little bit. “You and me,” he replied. “I dunno but today made me feel like anything’s possible. Those two took years to get together and now they’re married. Dean’s a little dumb like that. So am I apparently.”

Demiel’s silence suggested she pondered the implications of saying yes or no. She jerked her chin toward the van following theirs and put her guard up. “What about her?”

"I’m letting go," Sam said simply. "I’ve been letting go since I figured out she’s not right for me and I’m not right for her. At least romantically. I won’t give her up as a friend though."

"Neither will I," Demiel agreed.

Sam’s voice dropped even lower and he spoke as if no one else sat in that van with them. “So it didn’t work out the way I wanted at the time. People change every minute of their lives. When something doesn’t work, that doesn’t mean it’s okay to lie down and give up. The way you’ve handled yourself this whole time really got to me and I think you’re a great woman.”

"I’m an angel," she whispered. "So are my kids."

"Yeah and Cas and James are too," argued Sam with a little smile. "You live in their house. You’ve seen it’s possible."

Demiel let her eyes fall to her hands and wound her fingers together as she debated with herself. Another stolen look through the rear view mirror made Castiel want to encourage her, to tell her that Sam was a good man and he wouldn’t hurt her if he could possibly help it. But they had to work it out for themselves. That was part of his goal to teach free will and following dreams.

"I’m not proposing marriage or anything, Demmie. I just know that I’ve been thinking about you a lot, more and more every day, and I wanna spend more time with you. We could go somewhere tomorrow—eat some good food and check out the city. Anything you want. Let’s just see if we have a spark."

She met eyes with him again. Her plump cheeks lifted with a slight smile. “There was always a spark for me,” she whispered. “I’ll go out with you, Sam, but we need to go slow and be very, very careful.” She paused and took on a soft, girlish tone. “I may be several million years older than you but emotions are something you humans take for granted. They’re the most powerful force in the universe. Breaking my heart, I know now, will break me beyond repair.”

"I won’t break your heart," Sam promised gently. He took her hand as if recognizing her old world nature and pressed a kiss into her knuckles. "We’ll take it slow. Make sure it’s right."

Castiel smiled at the steering wheel.

*****

"Holy shit."

"Dean?"

The hunter strolled into the hotel room and dropped his bag on the floor. “We’re married.”

Castiel eyed him. “…Yeah…”

"I mean we’re really, really married. Like forever." With a glance at the new ring on his left hand, being let his mouth fall open, shocked. "How the hell did this happen?"

The text to Hetanel about James needing a bath the next morning had to wait. Castiel dropped his phone on the bed and faced Dean’s peculiar epiphany head on. “Are you having second thoughts?”

"No." Emphatically, he shook his head. "Hell no."

"Then what is it?"

Dean shifted where he stood and rubbed a hand over his beard. “I just never expected to be here or have this kind of life. I mean, it’s not like everything out there changed. We still have monsters to gank and dicks upstairs and downstairs, but, like, it’s different now. Don’t you feel any different?”

"I feel like me. I’m still Cas," he said, though he thought maybe yes, he understood what Dean meant. "I’m still me but I’m bound to those I love more than myself now. You, our son, and the unborn child waiting to come join our family."

Dean licked his lips and nodded the way he did when he thought about something that hard. “You gonna miss Heaven?”

"No." The angel drew in closer and looped his arms around Dean’s waist. "Heaven meant a place to call home for me. I’m home here now. My family is my Heaven and I don’t want a false sense of everlasting glory without you and our little ones to share it with me. We make our own destiny, remember?"

A long breath, perhaps of relief, left Dean. His face tipped forward and he rested his forehead against Castiel’s in a moment of quiet peace. It was rare when Castiel actually felt a pure sense of calm in his new husband. The restlessness in his soul still lingered and he wasn’t naive enough to think Dean would always be satisfied with domesticity, but they could figure out the hunter life later.

"I love you, Cas," he said, their foreheads resting together and arms linked around each other. "I know I don’t say it very much but—"

"—It’s okay, Dean. I love you too." Castiel’s hands lifted to his face and rubbed his thumbs over the beard he’d grown to think was quite attractive. He kissed him and said, "You don’t have to say anything else."

"I’m probably gonna suck at this marriage stuff," mumbled Dean against his mouth.

Castiel smiled as they backed into the bed of their natural desire for closeness. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not afraid to tell you when you’re wrong.”

The hunter’s eyes shined. “Shut up.”

"Make me," Castiel chuckled.

Neither of them had an idea of how to be married in a world of monsters, angels, and demons. It was complicated enough, Castiel guessed, without knowing about those threats to everyday human life, otherwise hunters everywhere would be married with children. Those who attempted it usually suffered from what Dean used to tell him. In fact, Castiel took it as a sign of faith that Dean wanted to marry him at all because of the way one spouse typically suffered for another in the hunter life.

Castiel’s thoughts began to blur as Dean peeled away his clothes and found his mouth for a heated kiss. The night melted away into one long kiss no matter how their bodies writhed together. They were really truly married and Castiel intended to spend the majority of his life tangled up with Dean.

The Winchesters woke with the dawn, hazy and sleepy smiles among tangled sheets and warm, naked flesh. Golden sunlight filled Dean’s eyes as he surfaced from dreams, turning bright green to yellowy olive. Castiel, leaning on his elbow, languidly traced the line of his profile under his fingertips. His new husband’s head rolled on the pillow and they observed each other in the dawn light like they hadn’t seen each other so intimately before. Dean reached up to the hand cupping his face and squeezed Castiel’s wrist. They had a way of speaking to each other without saying a word. Dean was at peace. The family he’d fought for his whole life finally came to fruition. They were going to give their children the life they never had.

"Mornin’, Mr. Winchester," he murmured.

A slow smile spread over Castiel. “Good morning, husband.”

Chapter Text

The sequel to this story has begun. You can find it at: https://archiveofourown.to/works/1876686

Summary: A few months shy of the fledgling nest turning two, life is nothing Castiel expected. The angels have assimilated into human life despite still having their powers. Demiel owns a 1930s-style diner, named after Mary Winchester, along with the nest. Lonely Sam seems to have found love with her as well, and has embraced raising her fledglings. Even Bobby seems to adore playing Hael's father while she attends art school. Everything seems too good to be true, yet Dean and Castiel still feel something's missing from their family. They want a human baby to give James a sibling bond like Sam and Dean had. Struggling with surrogacy stretches their patience thin, especially toward Gabriel, now sitting on Heaven's throne, as he promised them another child. Meanwhile, Hael announces that she's found another fallen angel, Jeremy, and they're in love, but something's not quite right about him. Before long, the nest must band together once more as Jeremy threatens to expose their identities to Sioux Falls. Will they lose their homes and livelihood? Will Dean and Castiel have another baby?