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The rain pelted on as the Impala sped down the interstate. The weatherman on the TV in the last motel called for heavy rain and showers, Dean looked out into the darkness of the night, wishing his father had the radio on or something to ease the tension in the car. Dean was the cause for it and he didn't have to wait long for shouting.  "Stupid little fucker. . .How did you forget to pay the bitch!?" John screamed. Dean blinked, a flinching reflex he had developed at the tender age of four. Smelling the booze on his Dad's breath, he wondered how long it would be till they stopped. Perhaps if John drank enough, he'd be too drunk to smack him. He was like that at times. Dean tried to find a logical explanation, but the reason was: John didn't have the money. But you can't blame John Winchester for his own actions. That, Dean learned a long time ago.  "Forgot." Dean muttered.  Taking another swig of his beer, the older man shouted "Well, maybe I'll just fucking forget to feed you, or fucking forget about you and drive away and leave your ass behind." John taunted. Dean prayed he did. He wouldn't care less if John pulled over and left him out in the rain like a kicked puppy.  Anything was better than having to endure John's abuse. Though, there was another factor at play: Angels. Dean shuttered just thinking about them. He had heard countless horror stories by John (at an age where it was not appropriate tell such a small child that, but John didn't play by the book) about how Angels swoop down and bite the heads off humans, or pick them up and fling them thousands of miles away, or taken them to Hell and torture them.  That's where John played "the good guy". He was a Hunter, a group of people organized and ready to fight the bastards. While they hadn't killed one yet, they had managed to stall some and they were improvising traps to capture one.  "Little retard." John belched, chucking the bottle at Dean's feet, the bottle smashing at Dean's torn and too small sneakers. They were already tarnished as it was since Dean had to dig them out of a church donation box. They were the only pair he had until he found a Goodwill where he could steal a pair easily. "There's only one fucking reason I didn't leave your ass back in Minnesota, so be fucking grateful."  "Yes, sir." Dean nodded, he was cold and scared.  "There's a den spotted in South Dakota, north of the Badlands. You are my bait. Got it?" John snapped his fingers. "Make yourself useful and don't get killed." Suddenly, Dean's face paled. His whole body fought with all it's might not to argue with his Dad. You just don't argue with John Winchester unless you're fixing to get popped in the mouth and loose a few teeth. "Free Dental Care" as John called it.  "What? What?" Dean stuttered.  "Shut your trap, asshole."  "I can't be bait, Dad I-" Dean went to give a reasonable excuse, perhaps a plea when John halted the Impala to a jerking stop and put it in park, proceeding to punch his firstborn over and over, not stopping even when Dean begged. The new bruises making old ones hurt or worse. The final straw was when John took a grip of Dean's hair in the back of his head and slammed him face down on the dashboard, bloodying his lip and nose. Dean cried in agony, holding his face to try and sooth the pain. This wasn't the first time John had smashed his head against the dashboard; in fact, that's why Dean tries to sit in the back.  Apparently, John wasn't done yet.  "I'm sick of your beechin-" he was obviously drunker than Dean anticipated. "-fuckin move!" John growled, yanking Dean by his arm out the Driver's side door, not caring if it was still pouring rain. Dean's heart raced a million miles as he knew what to expect next.  "NO! No, Sir, S-sir I'm sorry! Not there!"  John ignored the boy's please and opened the Impala trunk, not bothering to brush away any beer cans or guns and tossed Dean's lightweight body inside before slamming the trunk on him. Dean screamed and begged from the inside, banging on the door, but he knew it was fruitless, John never listened. Not when he was Four, Eight, Ten, or now. He never will. The Impala began moving again. Dean felt his heart race faster and he couldn't breathe. He hated being locked up in the tiny places John threw him into, like the Impala trunk, or a motel closet. Places where Dean would scream for hours and be docile for days afterwards.  Dean whimpered. In the past, he had actually contemplated on using one of John's guns and shooting himself, ending his pain and suffering, but John told him that if he did that, he'd just end up in Hell being tortured by an Angel and it would be far worse than anything John gave him that he "deserved". Dean didn't know what to do. If he ran away, he'd get killed by an angel, if he ended his life, he was doomed for eternity, but if he stayed with John, he's shoved into dark, small places, belittled and used a bait for Angels.  What did he ever do to deserve this life? Well, John claimed it was all his fault for not waking him up when that fire happened.   
"You little shit!" John would scream at him, "If you had just woken me up instead of crying on the floor like a baby, I would have ran in and saved your mother and brother, but no, you left them there to die! Your little brother and mother died because of you!"

John was right. Dean had little to no memory of that fateful night, just waking up in the back of the Impala as his Dad drove from state to state hunting Angels. Dean often wondered if his Dad was right. He had been lied to before by him, but if his mother was still alive, and this supposed baby brother of his, maybe John wouldn't have been a heartless monster. Maybe he'd have a family that loved him. They would survive against the Angels together.  But that was not Dean's reality. His life was in the trunk of an Impala driving recklessly through the rain in South Dakota.    "How many, Kearney?" John asked the fellow hunter, Kearney, smoking a cigarette. There were two hunters, including John seated at the diner table. They chowed on greasy hamburgers, salty fries and more beer. It was around three in the morning and John's buzz hard worn off some, but he'd be in trouble if a cop showed up. The Diner was run down and old. It certainly had a hay day back before, or when John was a kid probably. The only people working was the waitress, who was an uptight bitch and was on her phone more than tending to them. The chef in the back was actually sleeping and only woke up to cook their food and then return sleeping.  Perfect place to get out of the rain and have their discussion.  "Bout three I know of. Found a fresh feather last night, actually. Still warm." He informed. To Kearney's left was a man with an eye patch. He had lost his eye from a knife chucked at it in a bar fight. Letch, was his name. He was a slim guy with long, greasy black hair and a crooked nose. Letch snorted, pulling his black trench coat closer to himself.  "And how you suppose we take em? It takes three of us to get even one." Letch stabbed his food, eating only with his hunting knife, disregarding the silverware entirely. John's nose wrinkled at these two, but they were the only hunters he'd known for more than five years and they still weren't dead. Plus, they were rather stupid. If all fails, he uses them as shields and makes a run for himself.  John pulled out his notebook. He had been making Dean do research on Angels at whatever public library they stopped at for years now. For once, the kid was useful and found something of interest to John. Opening a piece of paper that had been folded over many times, he laid the drawing before Letch and Kearney. "The fuck is that, John?" Kearney asked. "A Sigil trap," John answered. "It'll trap an Angel and not only can they not move from the trap, but they cannot use their power."  It sounded too good to be true for the men. Which is why Kearney refused at first. "I'm not falling for that." Kearney demanded. "We don't know if it works or not, it could have been a bunch of shit and you believed it. Sides, very few have even killed an Angel and when they did, it just came back."  Letch suspiciously glanced at John, he had a gut feeling it may work. "And uh-how you suppose we trap these guys? They're not just gonna walk through them, the bastards are crafty and two steps ahead of us."  "Count me out for that, Winchester." Kearney repeated, sipping his stale coffee.  John glanced out of the diner window at the back end of his Impala. "Oh. . .don't worry. I've already come up with that part."     Dean hadn't the slightest clue how long he had been in the back of the Impala trunk but he was rudely woken up when the trunk opened and he was given a slap across the face as a wake up call. It was still dark outside and Dean couldn't tell where they were.  "Get up, dip shit. I need my gun." John grunted.   Dean wasn't given even a second to comprehend what John had said before he was yanked up by Kearney and tossed on the ground. He really hated the other two hunters. Kearney and Letch never paid him any attention, but when they did, John was always humiliating him or demanding Dean make a beer run for them. Dean took this as a sign of good luck, maybe his dad saw him as useless and got these two to help him instead.  "Let's go, runt!" John called as they began walking into the darkness, not waiting on him.  Dean shivered when a breeze blew on him, he could hear trees moving. He wondered why. He thought his dad was taking him to the Badlands? Dean knew better than to ask questions and hastily raced to catch up with the other men. As much as his instincts told him to run the opposite way, Dean didn't have a gun on him or any weapon at all. If he stood a chance at survival, he'd rather be with men who carried guns. Even if one of those men abused him on a daily basis.  You could run away. Leave him. Start a new life. The voice in his head spoke often in these cases. And go where? Dean ended up asking himself. He had no job, no licence to drive, nothing. There was silence among the men, other than the occasional twig snapping someone stepped on or wildlife noise. Soon, they walked into a circular clearing  where Kearney took the lead, bending own to pick up a brightly gold feather that was on the ground. He sniffed it, then ran his fingers through it.  "Still slick and warm. It's fresh, John." He spoke.  John nodded. "Places everyone. You two start over there." He pointed. Then, he turned to dean. The kid was a mess, his hear was soaking and sweaty, his face flushed and his too small, light jacket was ripped to hell. John snapped his fingers on the ground. "Sit." Dean obeyed and watched as John took the end of his gun and began drawing large circles and zig-zag motions in the ground around him.  "What. . .What are you?" Dean went to ask before John cocked his gun at him, making Dean whimper. His father had threatened to shoot him in the past, but he looked so angry right now, dean wouldn't put it past him.  "Shut your fucking mouth or I'll blow your brains out. Dead or alive, you're still bait."  Dean felt his mouth go dry. His dad was trying to kill him. Dean knew his Dad hated him, beat him, cussed his lungs out at him, but he was legitimately scared this time. He was going to get killed unless he left-pronto. John, it appears, almost read his mind because he cocked his rifle at his son once more, daring Dean to move. "I said don't move a single muscle you dick for brains."  Before dean could ask why his dad was doing this to him, a loud screech could be heard.  The Angels. They were here.  "Here's those fucker now!" Letch shouted, already shooting off his own gun at the black sky. John jerked around, stepping inside the seal for his own protection. Dean crouched further into the dirt, covering his head and his ears, attempting to make himself as small as possible. John smirked, he had taped his flashlight to his rifle as to see what he was shooting at and sure enough, he shot one directly in the face, only for it to fly over him. John gasped. It flew over the trap.  Turning when he heard a scream, John watched as Letch was yanked by his hair and picked up off the ground, his screams becoming more faint until they were unheard.  "Winchester, you traitor! These traps are shit!" Kearney shouted, "I ought ta shoot you myself-ARRRGH!" Kearney was cut off when an Angel pelted him in the gut, sending him flying through the trees. John nervously glanced around. He had seen at least five of them. Where did the rest go? Bellow him, Dean whimpered. Growing annoyed, John kicked him in the gut.  "Quit your bawling, brat! This is your fault anyway!" John shouted, "Giving me a lousy trap that didn't work! To Hell with you! You useless Fucker--" He pointed his rifle at Dean one more time, going to pull the trigger. As Dean awaited the arms of the inevitable death that was more than welcoming to him, something felt off. He hadn't felt any pain, nor did he even hear John's gun go off. The world was oddly quiet. No sounds of guns, screaming or even the thunder around them. It wasn't until a light shown on his hands and he felt a presence stand before him did he know he was in trouble.  He dared to look up and instead of meeting the face of his father, he was greeted with a blinding white light and a man he hadn't recognized.  No, not a man. Dean told himself. An Angel.  Dean's candy green eyes widened at the magnificent creature before him, one with black wings that towered over the both of them in it's glory.  The angel was beautiful, with thick black hair, blue eyes brighter than any ocean Dean got the pleasure of seeing and the most intense stare Dean couldn't figure out if it was intended to frighten or intimidate him, but it did. The teenager swallowed the lump in his throat, not blinking once as tears traced down his face with ease. He was terrified.  "Castiel, what are you waiting for? Finish him." a voice behind the angel, Castiel, asked. Dean whimpered. If it wasn't his father would would kill him, then surly this Angel, Castiel, would. Speaking of which, where was his father? One second he was towering over him like a giant, the next second, he was gone. Was he dead?  "No! Not this one..." Castiel spoke, his vibrant blue eyes never leaving Dean. The Angel stepped forward. Dean would have moved back if he wasn't so petrified. Crouching down, the Angel got a closer look at Dean, his face shifting from curiousness to admiration. ". . . this one. . . is pure." He finished, his voice gravely and rough. Nothing like what Dean assumed an Angel sounded like. Suddenly, Castiel was speaking a different language than the one Dean could understand. The two Angels (the one behind Castiel Dean hadn't seen yet) conversed but for a moment before Castiel placed two fingers on Dean's forehead, knocking the boy out instantly in a deep slumber on the cold ground.  Castiel crouched down, picking the boy up bridal style, smiling softly down at the young human in his arms. His wings wrapped around the two of them, sheltering Dean from the rain and. . . everything else bad in the world. Castiel knew Dean was pure just by looking at his soul. It wasn't like the other human souls that were tainted and poisonous. Dean's soul was bruised, cracked, almost fading. It was in danger. Castiel had to save it.  Castiel had found the perfect Hatchling.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

There was a new sensation Dean was feeling that he hadn't felt in a long, long while. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he enjoyed it. Warmth. The kind he got when he slept in clean hoodies snatched from Church donation boxes that provided warmth scratchy motel blankets could never compete with. Silence, no screaming, no John drunkenly waking him up or cursing at him. Nothing. There was a blissfulness Dean almost couldn't comprehend. Why? Was his question. Why did he feel like this? His head felt heavy, like when you oversleep but without the panic. His scenes were picking up and he could smell something sweet. Vanilla or something floral; he couldn't tell.  His eyes fluttered open, closing tightly when he was woken to a small, bright light that stung him.  "Sssh," a voice soothing spoke above him. Dean felt fuzzy. The voice continued to talk, but Dean couldn't understand what they were saying. Couching, the boy tried to roll over on to his stomach and push himself up, but a hand gently pressed into his back, furthering himself from doing so. That's when Dean's eyes popped open wide. Looking around him, he gasped, seeing he was in some sort of, how he could best describe it, cocoon of black feathers. The only source of light came from above a man's head. Dean instantly recognized this man as the Angel that appeared before him and knocked him out with just his fingers.  "It is alright, little one," The Angel spoke, his voice raspy, "I am here now."   The message brought the teenager no comfort. As far as Dean was concerned, he was a goner. At any moment, this Angel was gonna start torturing him. He just knew it.  "L-Leave me alone!" Dean whimpered, he went to curl into a ball, any way to shield himself from the inevitable pain that would soon rain upon him when he felt his knee hit his elbow and paled. He turned, glancing down at his body in shock horror before covering himself as much as he could. He was stark naked in front of this Angel. The Angel himself, dressed differently in what appeared to be long, white, silk robes with a gold rope tied around his waist. Ignoring the human's shame, Castiel bent down, hauling the boy into his arms, cradling him gently and supporting his neck.  "Put me down!" Dean begged. The Angel spoke once more, but this time in a language Dean hadn't the slightest clue to make sense from. The Angel petted his hair, murmuring to him as Dean tried to wiggle and shake out of his hold, begging to be set free. Dean didn't have to wait long before Castiel did set him down, however when he tried to run, all he did was fall flat on his face. His legs, they felt numb and paralyzed. Dean had felt this numbness before. John had once punched him in the arm so bad, he dislocated it, causing it to be stiff and numb. Dean was six then and learned never to ask for a snack.  The teenager was more frightened than before. He hadn't noticed that when Castiel rubbed his body, he had been applying oil from his wings along Dean's legs. The oil, to a human, was runny at first, but hardened; and right now, Dean wasn't going anywhere. Not to mention, he couldn't find a place to run to. The Angel's large wings kept him hidden away from freedom. Dean whimpered as he wiggled his hips, trying to pick his legs up, only successfully positioning himself in a fetus position on the floor with Castiel hovering over him with an adoring smile Dean missed. The teenager ducked his head when Castiel gently lowered his hand towards the boy. The Angel frowned. This boy's soul was heavily damaged and he knew it would take a long time for it to be back in a healthy, glowing state. Castiel would do his very best to nurture this human-his Hatchling.  Dean sobbed when Castiel rubbed his hand along his body, rubbing more of the goop on him.  "Stop! I don't like this, stop!" He begged.  The Angel only cooed, watching as the oil from his wings hardened on the boy and he counted down how long it was taking for the oil to have it's effect. you see, Angel oil had a therapeutic scent in it, Castiel knew this was the scent his Hatchling was going to recognize and associate him with in case they were apart. Though, Castiel highly doubted that. Angels were fiercely protective of their young; most never leaving their Hatchling's side for a minute until the first ten years.  Not only that, but wing oil was also very relaxing and while Dean would be numb now, he would learn to appreciate it as it was clearing away cuts and bruises as Castiel moved on. The blue eyed Angel watched in satisfaction as the human yawned, the oil was taking it's toll. Castiel took a small spoon from his robe pocket and released a squirt of grace from one of his, for lack of a better word, lactating feathers. Slowly, he tipped the pure silver spoon towards the human's open mouth, slipping it in and watching as Dean gulped it down. That would be enough to hold the human over until he cracked from his shell.  Gently caressing Dean's face, he watched as the boy's dried on bloodied nose healed back to it's former, un-crooked self. His Hatchling had the cutest button nose. Rubbing a thumb over Dean's closed eyelid, he rid of the black bruise and a few cuts on his scalp. Soon, the boy was coated head-to-toe in the hardened oil and began producing an egg shell-like form. Protecting the human from outside harm. Castiel lowered his wings, but did not put them away as he crouched down, hauling the egg elsewhere, preferably, to their nest.  As he opened the doors of the magnificent palace, Castiel grumbled in a scowl, watching as smaller, lower class Angels dressed in simpler robes scurry away. They had no doubt tried to get a peak at the new Hatchling. Nothing harmless, but more annoying than anything. Castiel knew there would be no more disruptions as he entered his personal wing of the spectacular home. It was a grand home, a palace compared to the crappy, run down Motels Dean had ever stayed in. Castiel's home was shared by many, but because he was a nesting Angel, he would have a section all to himself and his Hatchling for quite some time. It was a grand place, with ceilings that were high, crested in gold and silver archways and paintings of the creation of the world. The windows were all stain glass and were of pictures adorning angels, or nature, or Joseph, Mary and Jesus. There was plush, white leather couches, wood tables, and fine glass wear. Though, Dean wouldn't know of his home until he hatched soon. Castiel could hardly wait.  He entered the room in which he favored best, his nesting area. This room itself was cozy, consisting of the nest, made up mostly of a month's worth of Castiel's shed feathers, blankets of soft fur pets and sheep wool. He had incorporated a few feathers from his brothers and sisters, but not so much so that Dean would get confused on who his Father was, but so he was aware of his family when he would meet them in a few weeks. Castiel had been to many Hatchling Ceremonies himself. They were all a joyous occasion, filled with pride, happiness and love for a new member entering the family. He knew what was to be expected. Now it was his turn. He couldn't hold his smile  As if he were holding the most precious and valuable thing in the whole world (well, in his opinion, he was), gently, Castiel laid his egg onto the nest, watching in satisfaction as the Egg didn't move or jostle around.  He took his position, where he would remain for the next few weeks, laying beside his egg with his wing sheltered over the Egg like a blanket. He had, with the help of his older brothers Gabriel and Lucifer, looked into the past life of this human-his Hatchling. Castiel did not like what he saw. In fact, infuriated, was the tip of the ice burg. No wonder this poor child's soul was so broken and dull. Castiel knew he'd have to ensure his Hatchling would have a much better life with him than he ever did with the human John Winchester.  For now, he'd let Lucifer deal with the pitiful human. He had other important things to do. He placed a kiss on the egg; Hatchlings could feel the warmth from their Parents outside the shell. Castiel would ensure he rubbed the egg tenderly often, as it's been proven that unborn Hatchlings were at their most peaceful state during those precious bonding moments. For now, the angel had lots of work to do, he needed to organize the nest, shed more feathers and get lots of rest. Newborn Hatchlings are pron to wandering and trying to climb out of the nest before they were deemed ready by their parents and that wouldn't do to have his little one fall out and crack his head open.  "I love you, my son." Castiel smiled, vowing silently that no harm would ever come to his Hatchling. "Sleep well, I cannot wait to meet you."  And the Angel fell fast asleep.

9 Months later....
 Dean felt like he were floating. It was identical to the feeling before, the warmth, full and content emotion. Nothing hurt, nothing mattered and he was tired. It was weird, because he was also aware. He knew he was asleep, he was relaxed. Nothing was bothering him. Never before had Dean "went with the flow" of things, things always escalated and they were always his fault somehow, but not now. Through out his sleepy haze, he could detect something touching him, though, it was as if he were wearing layers upon layers of clothes and couldn't make out what was rubbing his back, butt or the top of his head. Though, no sense of danger was emitted with the touches, so he allowed it.   There was also a weird taste on his tongue. It tasted distinctively of milk, but it was weird. It was like it was "fresher than fresh" or something. Whatever it was, stayed in his mouth and he didn't care. In a weird way, it satisfied whatever hunger pains he endured. It was when the taste began to slowly drift away, and he craved the substance, did Dean begin to wiggle about. Soon, his consciousness began to return. He hadn't the slightest clue how long he had been like this, but when he came to, he felt the need to stretch and kick and shake his arms around. His hands felt something squishy, like tacky slime against a wall. The floating feeling was gone, he felt cramped and hungry again and he needed to move!  
CRACK!
  He had broken something with his foot. Dean could feel fresh air, though chilly, it made his heart race. Dean smelled it too. It smelt wonderful, like flowers in the fields, or clean laundry. Dean had to get to it. He struggled at some points, not being able to break free or having to kick at the same place twice in order to just make it easier. Above him, he used his arms to push whatever this hard substance was away from his face, clawing at it or smacking it sometimes. He tried rolling around, hoping it would make things easier and damn it felt good to move again. He felt like he had slept a whole year and was moving for the first time. His joins were like a rusty chain a bike, but Dean planned on voyaging to freedom no matter what the cost. Another minute of wiggling about and--- 
 CRUNCH!
  Just one more. He told himself and with one final ounce of strength, Dean managed to break free from the Egg. First thing he did was take a huge deep breath and cough up a bit of gunk that had flew into his mouth. He felt sticky, like he rolled around in slime or something; it made his hair stuck to his forehead and it was hard to be on all fours as he kept slipping onto his stomach-- and what was he in? Whatever it was, was soft and was sticking to the goo on his body. His eyes adjusted to the light better and he was confused when he noticed that was was sticking to him: were an abundance of black and grey-ish tip feathers. Did a bird attack him while he was out?  Just then, he felt something watching him. Like he had an audience. Boy, did he ever. Jerking around as quick as his feeble, naked body could, he watched in horror as a group of people, tens if not hundreds of Angels, watching him. Feeling his heart beat faster, he went to shrink back in hopes of hiding when he backed into-someone else. Glancing up, his worst (and suspected) fears were true. Castiel, the Angel that had kidnapped him from before, sat behind him with a loving, kind smile on his face. Castiel made no move, but Dean tried to slip away, only to end up sliding around. The raven haired Angel, however, uttered something softly to the angels and one by one, they all left the room, save for a small angel who looked to be no older than five. Her wings were bigger than her body, draping to the floor. She held a bundle of Palms and placed it on the nest by Dean. It was an Angelic tradition to bring the newborn Hatchling a safe and comforting life.  Dean did not feel any safer when the crowd left the room and Castiel sat up straighter, reaching for his Hatchling to clean him. Dean watched in fear as Castiel wiped him down with his hands. Sure, he had got the remainder of the goo off, but he didn't like it. Castiel hushed him, holding him like a newborn infant with his neck supported in the crook of Castiel's elbow and another protectively around his waist.  "My son. . . " Castiel finally spoke, brushing the hairs off Dean's forehead back. Dean felt a lump in his throat. No. This wasn't right! This was sick! Just kill me already!  Dean's face scrunched up and when he went to yell, he was mortified when his voice was so hoarse from not talking for very long. Just how long was he asleep and what did he break out of? He glanced down at the shells in the nest. Had he come from that? Like a bird? Castiel placed a kiss on Dean's forehead, before reaching towards a basin bowl at the edge of the nest, lowering Dean into it momentarily, baptizing his Hatchling. That was one of the major things the Angels did. They wanted their Hatchlings to follow their father and this was the first step. Now his son was safe from sin.  Dean cried, the air and cool water hitting him at once was too much for him and he shivered. Castiel was quick to cover him with fur pelts and feather, even wrapping his own around the newborn. Besides, it was time for the first feed. Castiel's wings had ached for weeks on end, leaving him to have to empty his grade elsewhere while he waited for his Hatchling to arrive. Now, they served a purpose and he watched in delight as the largest wing at the end of his tip, was first. The larger feathers tended to hurt the worst due to the fact they held more grace. It was no trouble at all to enter the feather into his little one's mouth, though, he had some coaxing with tracing his finger along Dean's jawline to ensure he'd drink. Suddenly, it was an addiction. Dean was tasting the sweetest, purest, nutritional substance in the world. His made his body feel warm, docile and with Castiel cradling him, dare he say, he felt safe.  Castiel watched his son indulge the grace. Newborn Hatchlings were always so hungry and demanding for it. Dean could drink up as much as he wanted. Castiel hummed lullabies he had recalled from when God held him. Nothing was more perfect than this moment.  0 0 0 The next month was a blur for Dean. Between struggling to escape the hold of Castiel and having those weird leaking feathers in his mouth, there wasn't much else to do but sleep. Dean couldn't say he didn't appreciate the rest he got. Living with John was always a constant state of fear and as a kid, John often threatened to leave him behind if he didn't catch up. So to say Dean grew up with a decent amount of sleep would be a lie. Besides, Dean was used to sleeping less than five hours a day. He was a hunter. Apparently Castiel didn't get the memo. As of now, the Angel was giving him a bath (Dean assumed) and it wasn't pleasant for Dean. Not to be confused with the fact dean hated baths; that was far from the truth, in rare moments in a decent motel, Dean would take long, hot baths as a source of comfort and to heal his bruises.For Dean, he couldn't get used to the feeling of the basin water he was placed in. It was crystal clean, sure, but it felt weird. Tainted, but in a good way almost. That, and being bathed by an Angel when you were a grown man wasn't the way Dean wanted to spend an afternoon. Castiel dried him off using the fur pelts. The Angel laid him down and when Dean waited in fear for Castiel to lay next to him and either cuddle or rub his back. Dean watched the Angel do something he hadn't before. Castiel stretched for a moment before hopping out of the nest, exiting the room and leaving his young one alone.  Dean could hardly believe his luck.   Just like that, he could crawl out of the nest! Dean rushed to his escape, his body slightly damp still as he tried to climb over the wall of feathers. One would think that they would be crushed under a human body's weight. But to dean's surprise, the nest was a well thought out structure, resembling a wide bowl. The sides were high and dipped into a curve to the lowest point in the middle of the nest. However, to dean's fear, he couldn't climb over the sides of the nest. He gripped the feathers and screamed when a few fell out of his hands and he slipped back into the middle. His feet stomped and he huffed, trying to climb over the wall once more, stopping only when he heard chuckling above him.  "Little one." Castiel's disappointing sigh mixed with the chuckle of another angel standing next to Castiel. Dean gulped, slumping back and covering himself with fur blankets to hide his nakedness from the other Angel. This angel was blonde and had charming green eyes and a mischievous, but kind smile. Like Castiel, he too, adorned robes. Though, most significant of him were his wings, which appeared to have some on the top as well as the bottom.  Castiel stepped back into the nest, hauling Dean into his arms and holding him close.  "I am sorry, Gabriel. He's been fussy all day."  The other angel, Gabriel, just shrugged. "When aren't the newborns? I'm just glad I caught him awake this time."  This time?! Dean paled. This Angel had been here before? When? How had he not sensed him? Dean had grown to knowing when a presence was in the same room as him or not, it came in handy tracking down monsters or feeling if his Dad was standing next to his bed and he was going to get beaten. Castiel frowned, glancing down at his Hatchling, wondering why he was so frightened all of a sudden.  "I know he's probably scared of me, Cassie. If it's not a good time and he's still adjusting-"  Castiel shook his head. "No. It's something else." Castiel had a hunch as to what had scared Dean, or was continuing to scare his Hatchling. Soon, after he had marked Dean at his ceremony, Castiel would know exactly what was bothering Dean and be able to better soothe him. Gabriel got the hint and lingered a bit longer.  "Well, Hi'ya little one. What's his name, Cassie?"  "I haven't decided yet."  "Oh, not going to name him till after his ceremony? Traditions, traditions." Gabriel smirked, reaching over the nest to pat his new nephew on the head. If he had done that months ago, Castiel wouldn't have hesitated to rip his brother's arm off. Archangel or not, no one bothers a Nesting Angel. Still, even now, Castiel watched his brother's hand attentively as it patted Dean's, now damp hair.  "Just make sure not to take any ideas from Lucy. He likes those old testament names that are outdated in my opinion. By the way, he wants to meet this one sometime before it happens." That was a lot of information for Dean to take in. What tradition? What ceremony? Who was Lucy? Dean shivered and whimpered. God, they were planning on his death, weren't they? This was all an elaborate scheme to prep him for a torturous death. Castiel and Gabriel's eyes widened when Dean began to cry and scream, wiggling away from Castiel's hold. Gabriel knew this was the time to leave and did so without a word.  Castiel bounced and rocked his Hatchling, placing him against his chest and murmuring soft words. None of which did any help to calm poor Dean's anxiety.  What had I done to deserve this? Dean asked himself. His tummy betrayed him and as did his mouth when a feather entered and he started to whimper and suckle away at the grace through his lips. He had to get out of here before that ceremony.   Whatever it was, it didn't sound good.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Let me go, please!" Dean cried, racing towards one end of the nest to the other as Castiel tried to grab a hold of him. Dean had been more vocal about his persistent plea of leaving since Gabriel's visit. at first, he hadn't been able to talk so much, at times, only whimpering and crying. He suspected it was whatever was in that liquid Castiel forced him to drink. He hadn't had a feed today, acting too fussy to latch on despite the sweet, addicting taste.  Somehow, Dean knew it was "the day". The ceremony Gabriel had spoken of. Whatever was bound to happen then, might be the fate Castiel was keeping him for. If it wouldn't be a tortuous eternity, then Dean didn't want to know what else Angels were capable of doing to him.  Castiel, however, resembled a frustrated parent that couldn't clothe this child. In fact, that's exactly what it was. In his arms was the white gown with a long train of lace and matching bloomers. It would be the first article of clothing Dean would adorn in his time with Castiel until the Angel deemed him fit enough to leave the nest and mature into robes. Castiel and the rest of the angels knew how humans felt about their bodies and the same Eve and Adam endured; it would be until Dean was fully an angel and then he could wear whatever he wanted, but until then, Castiel knew what was best.  "Now, my little one. Stop being so fussy." He hushed, picking up a kicking and screaming Dean. It was the little things Dean hadn't noticed at first that were the most startling; first it was his height. He was so much sorter than he recalled himself being, or Castiel had did some angel-mojo to make himself bigger. When Dean first met Castiel in the woods, the Angel looked to be shorter than his dad and Dean came up to his father's neck, so there was no reason why Dean couldn't climb out of the nest-which seemed to look taller most days than not. Secondly, the bloomers--or as he knew them as diapers--had been an occurring and embarrassing experience. Between the feeds and Castiel rubbing his stomach, there was no way he could hold anything in anymore. It wasn't possible. Castiel had assured him time and time again that he was doing nothing wrong; but that's now how Dean saw it. He was disgusting for messing and wetting himself. Last time he had an accident, John made him sleep in it to teach him a lesson and ended up with a horrible rash that lasted a week.  Castiel had known about all those moments of abuse his little one endured. Lucifer had sent him a long list of sins committed by John, not just his own personal ones, but towards Dean as well. As was Lucifer's usual job. When Angels took a human being, they were given a list of the sins they committed so their parent Angels could teach them and reverse their train of thought. Dean, however, was one of the "special cases". Lucifer took it upon himself to interrogate John, demanding to know what he had put his nephew through. Castiel watched Dean tremble with fear, gazing upon the outfit.  "My little one, what has you so upset?" Castiel asked tenderly.  "I don-I don't want it, please, just let me go!" Dean cried.  "And where would you go? I love you dearly, and wish to give you what is rightfully yours and what you deserve." Castiel's voice was so soft. It always was. Even for as rugged as it's vessel's vocal chords made it out to be. Dean shook his head abruptly, "This isn't right! Please, just send me back to Earth. Take someone else!" Castiel watched as his Hatchling fell to the nest, sobbing in a curled ball. The angel crouched in front of his son, laying a gentle hand on the boy's quivering back. His thoughts drifting back to his conversation with Lucifer some months ago when Dean was still in his protective egg.  
Five Months ago. . . 
 "A four month old, egg. I'll be damned." Lucifer smirked, his eyes twinkling at the sight of the small, green gradient egg in Castiel's lap. Castiel wasn't so moody he didn't allow visitors today, but he gave off a ward to not allow anyone two feet near the nest. The angel nodded, petting his egg protectively. Lucifer tosses a bottle of liquids towards Castiel and the angel thanked him, pouring the contents above his wings and running his fingers through them. A nesting Angel's wings were always bushy, full and often tangled; they were so worried about keeping their egg warm they often forgot to groom themselves, which wasn't good for the Hatchling when they needed to nurse. Castiel was grateful Lucifer had reminded him to brush out his feathers. It wouldn't do to be unprepared for his Hatchling.  "And you said you found him in an angel trap?" Lucifer asked, sitting down in a chair that automatically appeared.  Castiel nodded, "It wasn't a well drawn out trap. The Echonian was wrong and there was no blood circle." He explained. "The humans are advancing their knowledge in angel traps, but Balthazar said he'd put a stop to it immediately. We've tried to connect more to the humans, but all that seems to be working is soul searching and allowing which ones into Hell and the others into Heaven." Castiel wished there was a better way. This was not what God had planned at all. However, the humans feared them, rebelled their teachings and refused to cooperate; they had no other choice but to smite the wicked and rescue the innocent. Speaking of which, the egg trembled. Castiel placed his hand on top of the egg, mumbling Echonian softly before speaking to his brother once more.  "He was bait, of all things, Lucifer."  The sandy blonde vessel nodded. "I've got old Johnny downstairs now. I'll give him another hour naked in the snake den before I get bored." He smirked before shrugging. "The list he has is longer than The Manson family, or the Bin Ladins. It's actually astonishing their pathetic human government hadn't suspected a thing; though fraud was on top of the list."  Castiel turned his head. Lucifer was upsetting him and the older brother cleared his throat, mumbling an apology. Giving Nesting parents the list was a necessary evil Lucifer had to do. He was, after all, the ruler of Hell. While other angels pitied him, he didn't see what the big deal was, he got to torture those who harmed the innocent. It was all just a big game to him until he found out one of his own was the kid of John Winchester. Now, it was time to get even.  "I will return to see him later, Castiel." Lucifer promised, smiling sweetly at the egg. "Until then, this little one's favorite uncle has some work to do."   "Gabriel has that title already." Castiel mumbled, ready to doze off to sleep.  Lucifer stopped dead in his tracks, jerking around. "Says who?!"  "Gabriel.. . . "  Softly, Lucifer muttered, "Gabriel can go fuck himself. I'll be his favriote the second he lays eyes on me."  
Present Day. . . . 
   "My son, no one will laugh at you, if that's why you're worried." Humans and shame, Castiel already knew this would be a complicated and delicate hurdle to overcome. Castiel had hoped that Dean being in his exposed body for a bit longer would help, however that had to come to an end on the first night when the poor boy had an accident and the cloth diapers had made an appearance. It seems Dean hated those more than anything.  "Please, I don't want to. . . " Dean whimpered, "I. . .I could be useful!" The boy began to bargain. Perhaps he could work with the Angels, maybe be an errand boy or something to spare his own life. "I'll be quiet and I can hunt and I won't snitch or anything, please I could help you-" Castiel frowned, kneeling once more but not setting Dean on the floor (no way was he enduring another chase). He laid the outfit aside and cradled the small boy in his arms. Dean bit his lip, daring to look into the beautiful blue eyes of the Angel Castiel.  "My little one, you endured a harsh life into the hands of fate. I have seen all that has happened from the night you were conceived, to the moments upon your birth and from birth until that night I found you. Never, will you be in harm's way again." Castiel vowed. Dean, however, was confused and Castiel spoke without allowing Dean to ask him any questions. "Your perspective of Angels is false. We cause no harm to humans. Our arrivals to the living world are based on one factor alone: to save the innocent."  Dean gulped. Innocent? Him?  "But.....I'm not innocent. I've stolen, lied, cheated. . . . I. . .I." Dean couldn't' control his breathing and his heart raced. The hurtful words of John coming back to him like he were standing next to him shouting in his ear. Too many times has he endured those specific words from the only source of family he had, like a "fuck you" for Christmas, it never changed or got better.  "I killed my mom and brother." He sobbed. Soon, Dean was in hysterics. He tried not to think about them. He hardly remembered his mother, but when he did think about her, he felt warmth and longing in his heart. His little brother, Samuel, he recalled, wasn't even half a year old and was ripped from it. That damn house fire. The cause of it was unknown to Dean, other than simply it being his fault. Maybe it was. Maybe if he hadn't been so scared of the flames and sat and cried in the hallway screaming for his mother and brother, if he had gotten John, they'd be alive and his life wouldn't be a living Hell in Casitel's arms awaiting whatever torturous event they had in store for him.  The Angel stroked his son's hair back, wiping away snot drippings and tears, shushing the boy softly.  "My little one, you did no such thing. Mary and Samuel Winchester's deaths were never at the cause of your hands. Your soul has damaged itself in believing John's lies and excuses. Won't you let me help you?" Castiel asked.  Dean was so tired. Tired of the abuse, tired of running, tired of being afraid.  "I. . . I want to be left alone," Dean sobbed. "No John, no Angels, just be alone. . . " That's all he's ever wanted. A nice, warm home all to himself in the middle of nowhere, maybe a dog and perhaps some friends to have over for a visit. Dean had never wanted fame, riches or popularity; just a place to call home and be loved and respected. Then again, daily crises in America, Angel spotting and war and famine in other parts of the world,even the richest and elite of men and women had their share of troubles.  Castiel had slipped the gown and bloomers on Dean while the teen had his fit, hiccuping.  The Angel placed his hand over Dean's heart, tracing his thumb, tenderly. "Angels will protect you, my child. No harm shall ever come to you, it hasn't so far. I shall smite whomever so much as gives you a dirty look."  Dean sniffed, his tears now cold and he was left confused. His emotions set aside for him to think logically now. Castiel had been right about one thing, Dean hadn't felt any pain whatsoever during his forced stay in the nest. Humiliation, sure, but never any pain. Castiel appeared to hold him and carry him as gentle and cuddly as possible; whatever was in the wings kept him fed and satisfied. In retrospect, this had been leading up to something, Dean knew. This Ceremony. Apparently, it had to be important if he were dressed like this. Castiel cleared his throat, standing up for a moment to shift at his feet.  "My son, this is your welcoming ceremony. Here, your egg will be burned and it's ashes smeared on your body. I will make my mark on you, as well."  Now, Dean blink, this was different. "Mark? What's that?"  "All Angels give their young a mark. Think of it as a "family crest". It is our bond. You intake my grace successfully, clearing your body and preparing it to receive my mark and then, finally, the ability to grow wings of your own. This will all be quite tense and perhaps tough on your end, my dearest, but I promise you, you will not be alone in this journey and all around you will be Angels who adore and love you--"  Dean shuttered. This is why Angels kidnapped humans. They were making them into Angels themselves. Dean did not want that. He had no desire to become human and do whatever knows what to others. Granted, he had no idea what exactly it was he will be doing, but that doesn't matter because he won't be one. "That. . .that's a lie!" Dean accused.  "You're just trying to make me on of you so you can torture more humans and destroy the world! I won't be a pawn!"  Castiel frowned.  "My dear child, you're brainwashed." His voice was full of sorrow and pity.   "Let me go!" Dean cried, trying to rip the gown off before the door opened and both he and Castiel turned, watching who would enter the room. Dean gulped when a tall Angel appeared. The most noticeable about this angel, were his large, white wings that appeared to glow. The Angel was dressed in robes like Castiel, but appeared to have some crest sewing at the bottom front in pure black. His sandy brown hair and steel colored eyes fixed upon Dean and the boy shrank back into the safety of the nest---Wait, Dean thought, since when was this place safe?  He had to get out of here and fast.  "Lucifer. I was not expecting you to arrive." Castiel stood.  The older Angel, Lucifer, shrugged. Castiel knew damn well why his older brother made an appearance. "Michael has put me in charge of holding the Hatchling's egg for the ceremony. Besides, I wanted some bonding time with the newest member of the family. You know I cannot stay for too long. Ol' Johnny boy will miss me." He smirked.  Dean's ears perked up at the name. Johnny boy? Did they have his dad?! Dean's heart raced at the mention of his father. If what they said was true and John was here, than no doubt John was expected Dean to save his ass and the clock was ticking. Dean knew if he were to rescue John, he'd get the thrashing of a lifetime the first chance John got. Or worse. . .if he saved his dad, would John run for an escape and leave Dean behind? The boy whimpered, holding his head in his arms. Castiel was immediately at his son's side.  "My little one, it is alright. No harm will come to you." Swooping Dean into his arms once more, Castiel sent an annoyed glance at Lucifer who got the hint and silently sent a telepathic message to one of his many "helpers" to increase the heat in John's cell. He wanted the man's blood to be boiling by the time he got back.  "You don't have to worry about him anymore, kiddo." Lucifer spoke up. Dean winced in Castiel's hold.  "It's alright, my son. This is your soon to be Uncle Lucifer," Castiel explained, softly smiling when he brushed the hair back from Dean's forehead. "He's one of the many you will meet today, but do not fret, my child, many have not even met you and already they love you."  Dean couldn't even begin to fathom that ideology. Someone who doesn't know him, loves him? In his dreams. He hadn't the time to argue as he watched Lucifer (or Uncle Lucifer now,) pick up the remains of the egg he hatched from. There were two large ends and tiny shatters scooped up into one of the ends. Lucifer smiled proudly, as if this were an honor to hold. Technically it was, it meant Castiel was entrusting to Lucifer, should anything happen to himself, that Lucifer would set up and guide Dean.  The Angels had only started this process due to a sudden fall from some of their own. sadly, the humans were advancing and had managed to kill a few of their own. While Castiel and his team had put an end to those human advances, it still wouldn't hurt to have another angel step in.  For Castiel's luck, it seems everyone in the family nest wanted a chance at being the newest (semi-)Angel's guardian.  The angel took a shaky step out of the nest and taking a deep breath. It was always intimidating for a nesting Angel to first bring their nephilium from the nest. Castiel felt torn between jumping back and never allowing Dean to leave the safety of the nest, to wanting Dean to meet his whole family all at once. The boy whimpered against him, it seems Dean was more frightened than Castiel was.  "I promise you, my child. Nothing bad will happen."  Dean had almost believed him. Almost.    Dean watched in wonder as Castiel and Lucifer walked silently down the hall. all around him, was some area of light, through the windows were a pale light cream. Direct sunlight surly would have struck someone's eye, but it did not. There were paintings and scriptures along the walls and, once in a while, a fountain of holy water. Dean felt ridiculous in the attire he was in. Even if it were the last fabric of clothing in the entire world, he'd rather go naked. The puffiest diaper known to man and, seriously, a dress? Even John wouldn't have humiliated him like this.  Castiel's feathers shivered momentarily.  "Lucifer, do not drop those. They are. . . .precious to me." Castiel warned in the form of a beg. And they were. It could be compared to a parent keeping a lock of their child's hair at a toddler stage. To a Nesting Angel, their Hatchling's Egg, was the first vessel their little one received grace nutrients from; it was something Castiel guarded with his life and he was upset to know it would be gone shortly, but he'd like to ensure nothing happened to it.  Lucifer smirked. "Alright, mother hen, don't get nervous. Remember when Gabriel tripped Uriel at Anna's ceremony? That was hilarious." Lucifer chuckled at the fond memory but all Castiel could do was close his eyes and prayed to father nothing happened like that here.  "If anyone causes a scene at this Ceremony, they can bet they will not be seeing my son for quite some time." Castiel spoke, his lips in a thin line. Lucifer patted his brother on the back, sadly smiling as Dean whimpered into Castiel's chest. Everything changed as they approached the double door glass entrance to what appeared to look like a backyard. Dean saw out of the corner of his eye, hundreds, if not thousands of angels all dressed in white robes. Everything was a blinding white save for the bright green grass Dean swore looked fake. To his surprise, not only were there angles, but tiny, baby lambs roaming about too.  "Ready little guy?" Lucifer smiled.  Dean bit his lip and the doors opened. Castiel and Lucifer walked straight, dignified and proud down the isle of grass. Dean dared to poke his head up and glanced around at the Angels. All of them were smiling at him, or lovingly waving and blowing kisses. He felt a tap on his head and turned to see it was "Uncle Gabriel" The angel gave him a thumbs up and this only confused Dean.  Soon they arrived at what appeared to be an alter. Dean wondered if they'd kill him right here, in front of everyone. Castiel, sensing his little one's fear, rubbed his back softly.  The alter was beautiful. It was carved of stone and had a silk blanket on top. Next to it, looked to be a basin. The same kind that was next to the nest Castiel bathed Dean in, but it was dry as a bone. Dean watched another angel appear before Castiel and Lucifer. This Angel was breathtakingly beautiful with dark hair and eyes to match. He was taller than both Castiel and Lucifer and dressed exquisitely in silver robes with gold embellishments following him in a long train.  It was Michael. Another Archangel and one of the many of Dean's new Uncles.  The angel gave Dean a smile. "My. . . it has been over five-hundred years, since a Nephilium has graced our nest. I thank Father you chose him, Castiel. Who knows what would have happened to him on Earth a moment later." Dean's throat went dry. It appears everyone knew him. Michael turned to stand behind the alter as Dean and Lucifer approached it. Dean wiggled about when Castiel set him down and began to whimper.  "No more fear, child of God." Michael soothed, stroking back bit of Dean's hair. "Soon, to be a Child of God, and Castiel," Michael then turned to his brother, asking softly. "Have you chosen him a name?"  Castiel nodded. "I feel it is right to have him keep the name the mortal female Mary Winchester bestowed. It will be an honor to her memory."  That grabbed Dean's attention the most as he starred with wide eyes at Castiel. Had Castiel known or met her? The possible scenarios racing through his mind distracted him from the moment Lucifer handed over the cracked egg shell to Michael. The older brother cocked his eyebrow before turning to Castiel, who was holding on to a small piece in his hand. "All of the pieces, dear brother. It is vital." He reminded. Castiel nodded, handing the last bit over. The shells placed in the basin and there was a moment of silence before a large, crimsons red and gold fire shot from the basin, engulfing the eggs in flames until they were mere ashes. This was not to be confused with holy fire, that would be able to kill Angels like Castiel. This was more of Michael diminishing leftover Grace from the shells of the egg and forming it into ash. The very seeds needed to grow wings. Dean watched as Michael dipped his thumb into the ashes and walked towards dean at the alter. dean winced, waiting for the burn, the pain, to arrive, but none did when the ashes were placed on either side of the opening of the gown. Two, large, long, parallel lines to be exact.  "Before you here, I commence thy being: Child of of Lord, Child of Castiel, Godchild of Lucifer,  Dean Castiel Nephilium."  Dean had no idea what Michael was saying, but he knew it hadn't been in his favor as Castiel had a huge smile on his face and Lucifer appeared to be in better spirits. Michael continued to re-chant the Echonian three more times, before blessing Dean with a kiss was on his forehead and giving him a welcoming smile. Almost immediately, Dean was placed back into Castiel's arms. Michael softly nodded before leaving, walking somewhere Dean's eyes couldn't make out. He had missed his chance to see, because he was now in the arms of Lucifer.  "My Godson. I cannot believe it. I can finally say that."  Dean gulped. That language. All of the Angels were speaking it. He was scared, whatever just happened can't have been good. He watched as some Angels mingled with one another, some small angels happily running with the lambs or clinging to male and female angel wings. This reminded Dean of those wedding parties his dad would have him sneak into pretending to be the nephew, or cousin, or son of someone for a case. Dean would find bits of happiness in making friends with the children there and running around or stealing slices of pie and wedding cake with them, but when Angels arrived, those cases became few and far between until they never happened again. That was too bad for Dean. Sometimes a good wedding kept him full all day.  Lucifer grabbed Dean's attention once again by tracing his thumb against the freckled cheek, frowning at how much Dean flinched.  
"He is so small, Castiel. So young." 
 "Indeed. I had hoped my grace had helped with that for a moment, but it appears that will take more time."  Dean had enough. "What are you saying? I can't understand." He whimpered. Nothing was more confusing and irritating and, quite frankly, upsetting, than being in a situation where you couldn't understand a word anyone was reiterating. Lucifer frowned, turning back to his brother. "I am sorry, Castiel. I must go, shortly." He spoke, handing Dean back to his Father. "Make sure John Winchester pays for what he did." Castiel watched as Lucifer swiftly walked off, alarming a few angels in his path. Castiel sighed. He had wished Lucifer would hold his temper for today, but he must give his brother credit for the time he held it in now. He shushed Dean before spotting the group he wanted most to see.  "Dean, everyone around you will ensure no harm is to come your way. You are in the safest place in my father's universe." Dean didn't particularly feel safe. Shouldn't that matter to? He wanted to scream. His energy was lost. How could he keep fighting against the Angels if he were surrounded by them? But does that mean he simply should "give up"? He had no answers, but spotted a leaking feather and all he wanted was to grab a hold of it and suck on it. Like many newly Hatchlings, Dean had formed a sense of comfort from nursing. Castiel smiled softly, walking towards a group of Angels, allowing them to see the newest member.  "Oh, Castiel." A woman's voice all but cooed. "He's beautiful!"  Dean didn't want to turn around. He wanted to hide forever. A calm rub to his back was soothing and consumed him with guilt. Everyone around him speaking a different language and acting if nothing wrong, why aren't they smiting him? or torturing him? or doing a long list of other things John said they would? His thoughts drifting back to Castiel's sad claim of Dean having been brainwashed. If that were the case, then why did John lie? Or perhaps, feed him information John himself wasn't sure about? Was humanity really sick and at the bottom of the food chain? Dean had wanted to reject the feeling of despair at knowing he would never escape this place. He had been screwed the moment Castiel laid eyes on him in the woods. Dean's head felt dizzy and the voices all around him made him hurt his ears, making him feel small, cramped, dark alone-scared-frightened-screaming--- "Sssh, sssh, sssh, Dean." Castiel murmurer into his ear, bouncing him softly.  Dean hadn't realized the panic attack he had endured. Glancing around, he noticed they were alone inside the grand manor. He couldn't see the angels outside anymore. How long had it been? How did everyone leave without making a noise? One second he was just thinking and the next he felt he were in one of the motel, smelly, dark cramped closets. Gripping Castiel's robe the Hatchling whimpered.  "What. . . what's going on?" He cried. "What happened? What was that fire and ashes thing all about?"  Castiel blinked. "That was your welcoming ceremony. Michael took the ashes from your egg and placed them on your body. You should be growing your wings sometime in the next few weeks." That would be a time consuming and patient process, Castiel knew. He had remembered when his own grew in before the birth of humanity. Countless times his older brothers and sisters spreading their own ointments and wing oil upon his to sooth the growth and ensure healthy feathers. Feather grooming required tender care and was an excelling bonding experience for Nestlings and their parents. While Castiel looked forward to the event, he could tell Dean was more than apprehensive.   "And. . .my mother," Dean whimpered, ignoring the pain his heart felt when he talked about her. That was nothing knew. "How. . . how do you know her?"  Castiel began walking back towards the room where his nest was. His instincts telling him to hurry, that Dean needed to be warm and fed. Dean was not given an answer and that was okay, because the second Castiel reached the feathery nest, a blanket of safety covered Dean like a warm blanket in a cold room. Taken out by pure exhaustion, sucking on the feathers Castiel covered him with. The Angels nuzzled down next to Dean. Whatever obstacle was to come his way, he'd overcome and ensure he loved his child along the way.  The Angel smiled at that notion. . . . his child.  Dean was officially his.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

After the ceremony, Dean was glad to hear that he'd be left alone, even if it was with Castiel. Dean had come to the conclusion that Castiel had no intentions of harming him, but that didn't mean he wasn't weary of the Angel.  If the Angel had no intention on harming him, what did he want him for? Dean was still in denial of the possibility that Castiel had saved him from the rotting Earth, and his abusive father, solely on the intentions of caring for him as Castiel bathed him regularly and fed him whatever that stuff was from his wings. Fed up with the secrets, Dean had asked what that stuff was, to which Castiel happily explained.  "It's my grace, Dean. It is filled with more nourishment than anything on Earth combined. It is also a healing factor, and as we speak, it has been healing your body and your soul."  Dean had noticed the lack of cuts, scars and bruises on his body. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had a "clean" body. John liked to keep him regularly bruised, or smacked so Dean wouldn't "forget his place." Dean shuttered when Castiel immediately swooped him into his arms for a hug. "No more frightening thoughts, Dean. I am here."   "Wait, you can read what I'm thinking?" Dean glared, the invasion of privacy turning him off. If mind reading was the case, then Dean knew whatever plan of escape he had was gone before it took action.  Castiel's breath hitched. "Not. . . necessarily."  To an angel, the mind was a scarred place. It housed the ideologies and functions Dean needed to survive. To simply intrude on that would be low on his part. However, Castiel would often peak into Dean's mind and bit his lip at the self-loathing, hatred and self pity Dean had for himself. Castiel would only look into Dean's mind if he felt Dean was hiding important information from him that needed tending to. Other than that, Castiel wouldn't dare.   "Ah-ha! You can!" Dean accused, wiggling to get away from Castiel. "You know how weird that is?! How all of this is?" Dean pointed to his crotch area. "I'm in a diaper! I don't need this, I can use the toilet like a normal human being."  Castiel was aware of this. "I understand, Dean. But as part of Nesting and you being my Hatchling, I cannot allow you to quickly make decisions when you are not yet healed, besides, there is nothing wrong with your vessel-"  "What are you talking about? This is my body!" Dean shouted, patting his chest a bit too rough for Castiel's liking. "I know what I need, when I need it! I'm not a baby and this-" He pointed to the diaper once more, "is degrading!" Memories of wetting the bed in the various Motels he and his father hid out at, or the apartments his father rented under a false name came back to him. John would look at him in utter disgust that would make a cockroach want to shrivel up and die. John had his own methods of "toilet training" that involved denying Dean drinks of water for hours, despite his child suffering from dehydration. If that wasn't enough, a good kick in the ass with a rash at seven worked.   The Angel frowned, opening his arms, almost expecting dean to run into them. That wouldn't be the case, so he settled for yanking the boy off the floor of the nest and holding him still.  "Your vessel is doing what my father intended it to do, Dean. Besides, they came in handy when you were asleep those weeks before." Castiel reminded him. Dean's blush was only becoming more red by the second. How could he not notice? Of course Castiel had diapered him before. If not, the nest would have been riddled with filth. Castiel continued to murmur in Dean's ear, "My child, you are not the first Hatchling to need them, nor will you be the last. You have nothing to prove to anyone, nor will anyone judge you." They were not on Earth where judgement was around every corner. Seriously, why were humans so cruel to one another? Castiel would never understand.  "You don't have to rub it in." Dean muttered.  "Sweet boy, I do not intend to. Come, it's your feeding time." Castiel sat down, his wings fluttering open as he went to wrap them around him and Dean. Castiel had found the best method of soothing Dean down for a feeding was to be sitting or lying down. If he had the boy standing up to nurse, it would be harder for him to settle down, or he'd fall on his knees from exhaustion. Dean hesitated. He had consumed grace before, but he still was not comfortable with it.  "You-you still didn't answer my question!" Dean demanded. "I asked you what it was and where it came from."  Castiel blinked. "Grace is celestial energy integral to angels," He answered, "without it, I am a mare mortal."  Dean was surprised at the Angel's honesty. Being a hunter, Dean would have relished in this information had he known about it earlier. So that's how you kill an angel. Take it's grace away. His father might have found Dean to be useful in that information giving, but it was useless now. Castiel did nothing but smile sweetly at his Hatchling, stroking the hairs on his forehead backwards before a feather looped don and entered Dean's mouth, at first, Dean struggled, but like before, the second a drop of grace hit his tongue, he was hooked. The grace was both texture-less as well as "heavy" on Dean's throat. It was like a big raindrop hitting your head unsuspectingly. You felt something, but can't quite put your finger on to what it was. Addiction settled in, and soon, Dean was making adorable 'scuffing' noises while suckling on the feather.  And just like that, he was out like a light.      "It has to be perfect, Uriel, it's for my Nephew. My favriote nephew to be exact." Bossy, flamboyant and super excited Gabriel commanded. While his brother and nephew slept away a few hallways down, Gabriel was hard at work with Uriel, Balthazar and Anna, ensuring his nephew's nursery would be the most comfortable and warmest room in the manor. Balthazar groaned in agony hauling the rocking chair into the room.  "Why can't we use our grace to help us again?" the blonde angel groaned.  Gabriel huffed, "Because it'll leave a bad taste in Cassie's mouth if we let even a feather stray behind us, more or less any trace of grace. We can't have Dean confused or scared of us. We have to allow him to adjust to Castiel first." It was vital a Hatchling adapt to their Angel parent's scent and grace first. Too much of anyone else's scent would throw off the Hatchling into a scared fit and that was the last thing Dean needed, Gabriel knew. Upon reading his nephew's records, Gabriel took it upon himself to ensure the nursery would be perfect. Little Dean was just about ready to leave the nest soon. Hatchlings stay in their nest for eleven months to a year. The first nine months, they are in their egg and following that, they learn to recognize their parent's scent and learn to control their grace feeding.  Balthazar glared, crossing his arms, "which leads me to my nest question: why aren't you helping us?"  Gabriel blinked. "I am." he thought that was a stupid question.  "Doing what?!"  "Someone has to tell you nerds what to do." Of course Gabriel was in charge, who else was suited for the job but him? Lucifer is busy in Hell, so no way can he stop at any given time to do decorate a nursery, and Castiel was too busy with Dean doing his Hatchling duties, so being the favriote uncle and big brother he is, Gabriel knew it was up to him to decorate the nursery for Castiel. Truthfully, he knew Castiel would castrate him if he knew what he was up to. He knew fine and well Castiel wouldn't are too much for Gabriel sticking his nose into his private business, but Gabriel was sure that if he produced the best nursery, Castiel might not hate him so much.  Walking in holding two lamps, Uriel stopped to stretch his back.  "Hey-hey! No slacking! We got a job to finish!" Gabriel pouted, then he turned to Anna, who was putting away the necessities Castiel would need at the changing area. "Oh, Anniekins-you about finished?" He asked the redhead. Anna turned, glared and resumed folding cloths before storing them in a drawer. The only reason Anna was going through with this, was because Gabriel promised her she'd get to hold her nephew. Hardly anyone got to hold Dean at the ceremony. The poor Hatchling had a breakdown and Castiel asked everyone to leave. Not that she blamed the child after all, her poor nephew suffered so much on Earth. It was safe to say the name "John Winchester" was always said with bitter taste and never in good conversation.  Gabriel rolled his eyes and sighed. "You know, a little help around here from you guys would be great. Now, if you don't mind, I'm off to tell Cassie the good news, we're just about done."  Balthazar groaned, asking Uriel for his assistance in placing the crib into the middle of the room while Gabriel strutted down the hallway. Castiel should be just about ready to have Dean leave the nest, though it would take some coaxing and persuading on his part. He knew just as well as anybody that if he said the wrong thing, or dared to yank the Hatchling from the nest before Castiel was ready, he might as well be walking into a Lion's Den. If Nesting Angels had their way, their Nestlings would never leave the safety of the feathered nests. Gabriel gulped, hoping Castiel would have as much sense as he did at the moment. Little Dean would need it soon.  Making his way to the small Nesting Hole Castiel took bunk in, Gabriel casually strolled through the living room until he reached the door where the nest was located. He knocked three times.  "Who is it?" Castiel asked.  "You're favorite big brother and Dean's favorite uncle." Gabriel grinned. "May I come in?" The Archangel heard scuffling of some sort behind the door and soon, a small 'enter' came to his ears. Opening the door, Gabriel was blessed with the sight of Dean snoozing away in Castiel's lap while the Angel bathed him with a washcloth from the basin not far away. Small, glowing trickles of grace lingered past the boy's drooling, open mouth. Gabriel was right to assume the boy had fallen asleep from his last feeding. Little Dean would need it to grow big and strong. Gabriel was pleased to see no scars or cuts were on the boy anymore, and that black eye was near faded. Dean also looked more radiant and peaceful in sleeping than he had when Castiel first brought him back. Oh the magic of grace and given affection.  Gabriel slowly walked to the nest. Earlier, had he done that, Castiel would have threatened him, but now, he was practically sitting on the edge of the nest while his little brother paid no attention to him, only on bathing his Hatchling.  The archangel cleared his throat. "Well, uh. I don't know about you, but this place feels a bit cramped," He started off. Castiel said nothing, now softly rubbing in between each little toe on Dean's foot. "This nest here, a very fine one indeed, but it's looking a bit. . . .small."  "It's fine to me." Castiel shrugged.  Gabriel smiled softly. "Yes, that it is, but to perhaps, certain company, it's not?"  The younger angel finished cleaning his child before kissing at his Hatchling's cheek, laying him down into a bed of black feathers before covering him. Gabriel swung one leg over the edge of the nest, daring to enter. Gabriel knew Castiel wouldn't kill him at this stage. Castiel knew that Dean was adjusting better and that his Little one wouldn't feel threatened by his new family. Frightened, maybe. But nothing more. Castiel was, at the moment, in the middle of rubbing little Dean's back as the boy whimpered on Castiel's lap. He had just finished bathing Dean and was preparing to coax his Hatchling into a nap.  Gabriel held his arms behind his back and smiled down at the diaper clad Hatchling. His Nephew was the cutest being on Heaven and Earth combined.  "Hello little, Dean-bean."  Dean-bean?! The Hatchling looked up with a blush on his face as he glared at the Archangel. Out of all the things he was called by both Castiel and the other Angels, Dean-bean, had to be the worst. It seems Gabriel knew that and the name wasn't going away any time soon. The Archangel sat next to his little brother and Nephew, his six wings fluttering with joy at the cuteness glaring at him.   "Hey, Dean-bean, what's say you to having your own room?" Gabriel offered.  Castiel stopped rubbing Dean's back, and cocked an annoying glance at his brother while Dean's eyes widened. His own room? Privacy? Hell yeah he was down for that. He had never had his own room, other than the closets John stuffed him in, or if he was left alone in the Motel while John went to the bar. His own room was something Dean had wanted for years. A place to escape and unwind. The Hatchling glanced up at Castiel, who looked to be deep in thought.  Having his own room wouldn't bring Dean much comfort, but it was ease the fact that Castiel had him under a tight watch. Perhaps he could have some much desired alone time. That didn't mean Dean didn't have his doubts. Whatever room the Angels had in store for him, were probably not what he was expecting. He wasn't expecting to sleep in a big nest like a bird, yet he did. Granted, it was soft and oddly the most comfortable thing he's ever slept on. And Dean has slept on a lot of uncomfortable places growing up, everywhere from plastic tube slides at the park, or concrete benches, to even in the dirt when his Dad made them do steak outs.  A part of his was worried he was growing fond of the nest and didn't want to leave it. He had hoped that wasn't true.  He didn't want to become an Angel.  Castiel sighed, "I am not sure, Gabriel."  "Cassie, the Hatchling is growing and will need a nursery soon--" Dean shuttered at Gabriel's words,"-- We'll be sure to stuff feathers in the mattress and pillows for him. I've already got mine saved up." The proud Uncle grinned. He couldn't wait for his nephew to see the room they had been working on. Castiel was more than perplexed. He would have liked to have a say in the details of the nursery.  "If I do not like it, the answer will be quite clear. I know what is best for my Hatchling, Gabriel." That last part came out a bit harsh, but it's not that Castiel could help it. Sometimes his big brothers smothered him with their annoying "assistance". Honestly, Castiel had watched Nestlings and a handful of Hatchlings to know what to do. It's just Heaven had been preoccupied with other matters so much so that a Nestling, let a lone a Hatchling, was so rare these days. With Castiel's decisions to nest and the arrival of Dean, it had just put the other angels into a protective tizzy.  Gabriel held his hands up in defense, smiling the entire time. "Understood. Smite the dummies on the spot. It's mostly their fault for not listening to me."  The black winged Angel rolled his eyes and stood up, holding the still diaper dressed Dean in his arms.  Dean looked around as they left the nest, the strange living room and attached kitchen that Dean had never roamed and entered the hallways. The teenager looked around at the paintings of the creation of the world and the endless pillars above him that shot into a bright light that neither blinded or hurt his eyes. However, they turned down another hallways and walked a bit more before Dean realized they had left the wing of the mansion and were entering a new one.  "Alright, Dean-Bean, ready to venture into a new place?" Uncle Gabriel asked, excitedly.  Dean glanced down at the marble floor. He didn't know if he was or not. On one hand, he knew it would be a baby nursery. He wasn't a baby, yet these Angels treated him like one.   The doors opened and soon, Dean was given the sight of "His new room". It was a room larger than the room with the nest and basin he was held captive in and even had windows bringing in a pale light from an unknown source. Dean made mental note to try and open them and run away the second he was alone. Castiel stepped into the room, he too observing the area. There was not one, but three beds. A large crib Dean's jaw dropped just seeing, as well as a mobile bassinet and a floor cradle. The whole room was a light cream color with a large bookshelf filled with teddy bears and pillows and extra blankets.  Across the bookshelf, was the changing station, where the drawers were filled to the brim with cloths and wipes for Dean. There were soft lights glowing on the walls and from the lamps to provide Castiel if Dean woke up at night and there were plenty of chairs for Castiel to sit and nurse or rock Dean to sleep.                                                 Castiel had to admit, his brother did a good job. However, there was one thing missing- "Brother, I am not comfortable allowing Dean to stay in this room so long as I have no feathers to sooth him with." It was crucial that young Hatchlings and Nestlings are given feathers to be tucked in their pillow cases or in their blankets and bedding to ensure the little one that they were safe and loved. Not to mention, it brought a comfort to them if such a feeling of loneliness should arise. That's why Castiel's nest was so important to him right now.  Gabriel winked snapping his fingers and a huge bag filled with different colored feathers appeared before Castiel. "Way ahead of you, bro. I've taken the liberty in asking Anna, Uriel, and many more to donate a few clippings."  The names were unfamiliar to Dean, but he no doubt assumed they were the many uncles, or aunts, or whatevers he now forcibly had. Castiel gave a soft nod and looked around once more, rocking on his heels patting Dean's back.  "So, Dean-Bean, what do you think?" Gabriel smiled at his nephew. "Isn't Uncle Gabe just the best? Much better than Uncle Lucifer, aren't I, huh?"  Dean pouted, giving the most fierce glare he could muster at the blonde but only managed to look like a fed up Husky puppy  who wanted cuddles and belly rubs. Gabriel laughed, loudly. "I'll take that as a yes. Oh and Cassie, here are my clippings." With another snap of his fingers, three bags full of golden feathers appeared and the Archangel seemed oblivious to Castiel and Dean's shared annoyance.  "You're so lucky your archangel Uncle has so many wings, I'll ensure my feathers keep you happy, little one," Gabriel crouched to Dean's lever, when Gabriel glanced up at Castiel, he grew nervous under the glare the blue eyed angel was giving him. That was practically insulting what Gabriel insinuated. To give more feathers to a nesting angel was insulting, it was telling them that you weren't capable of nurturing a nestling. Which Castiel found to be more than enough of a reason to think about kicking Gabriel in the shin."Heh, heh. Of course-your Daddy's feathers are no match to mine. Well, I'll just let you go stuff these and be on my way. Call me if you need anything, bro."  With a flash, Gabriel was gone.  Castiel let out a sigh and wandered about the room, softly smiling at some of the decorations and features the nursery had to offer.  Dean whimpered as they grew closer to the crib. He didn't want to be in that, being it that was just as bad as the nest, but this had BARS. Bars enclose things, house them and just the thought of being stuck in there with no place to go made his chest feel tight and he- Castiel began to soothe him, making noises with his mouth and rubbing Dean's back. "You're okay my little one."  Dean hadn't realized he was having another panic attack. It was just like what happened before at the garden. His cheeks grew red as tears fell down his face. Castiel rubbed them away with his thumb before sitting down in one of the rocking chairs in the room, holding Dean close. Thankfully, he had been sitting close to a desk that housed a bin full of pacifiers.  Human or Angel, all Hatchlings, Nestlings and a few late blooming Fledglings, needed a suckling tool as a source of comfort. They couldn't live off their parent's wings forever. However, just the rubbery texture alone was often not enough to soothe a baby, so these were modified to slip in a feather. So the pacifier was laced with a tad bit amount of grace to soothe the Hatchling further. And for Dean, it was working.  "It's alright, my Hatchling. I'll be sure to make this area more comfortable for the both of us." Castiel promised. As much as he wanted to take Dean and race back to the nest he had built in the Nesting Wing of the manor, he knew that Dean needed this more than him. Dean cannot grow to be a respectable Angel if he stayed in the nest his entire life. He'd be growing his wings soon and would need to learn to walk with them, and then learn to fly and a whole laundry list of things Castiel did not want to even think about right now.  All the dark haired Angel wanted, was to rock and soothe his Hatchling back to slumber. And it did.  However, even in Heaven, there would be trouble lurking about. Some of it, originating in the mind of a desperate Hatchling wanting to escape.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

With each day that passed, Dean knew he was growing weaker. His strongest enemy was himself and he was loosing. Castiel provided the (embarrassingly enough) much needed comforts of a home Dean had yearned for since he was little. Abusive father aside, Dean had vague and soft memories of a beautiful woman with long blonde hair humming softly as she walked about a room, bouncing a small bundle of blankets in her arms. Dean's hazy memory recalled watching her softly sing until he himself fell asleep. Afterwards, there's nothing but screaming insults and ridiculing from his father, smelly motels, hunger pains and coldness.  Dean hadn't wanted much, perhaps a small home somewhere in the wilderness. He had liked watching the big trees as he sat in the backseat of the Impala while his Dad drove them to their next hunt. He had admired the wilderness for two reasons: you were alone, and if you weren't you knew.  Out of all the places his Dad dragged him across the country, he preferred the quiet, tranquility of the wilderness and often dreamed of leaving John when he was older and bigger so he could live on his own. Those years of his day dreams seemed fruitless as Dean aged. John would never let him go, he needed bait and a punching bag and Dean was too inexperience and too unlucky to go anywhere alone.  The small teenager sat up, groaning. For some reason, his body had woken up earlier than his mind would have liked to because something had tickled the back of his neck and wouldn't stop. Looking about, he half expected to be in the nest with Castiel. His memories came flooding back, recalling when Castiel took him to that nursery Gabriel insisted he'd be in. Frowning, Dean glanced around him. He was in the large crib that was filled with soft blankets and feather stuffed pillows. But this time, the feathers were also all over him. He could see some of the colors through the soft, pale light that shone through the windows, proving it to be very early in the morning, but still early enough to roll back to sleep. But Dean couldn't fall back asleep, he was too mortified by all the feathers in the crib. All of them were different colors, though there were mostly predominantly black ones about.  Castiel's feathers. Dean knew. The nest was made up of them. They had to be his.  Among the black were a few cold, soft white and brown and auburn colors. However, one color stuck out the most and they were hot pink and sparkly. Dean's jaw dropped, holding one up. It was as long as a sharpen pencil with a pointed, curled tip. 
 
Who's wings were those? Dean asked himself. The only one to come to mind was Gabriel. His dumb happy-go-lucky attitude fit having hot pink sparkly wings perfectly. Growling, Dean kicked the feathers away, but they a majority just flew around in the air. Not listening to his physical command of leaving him alone. He didn't want this. He didn't want to be an angel, didn't want to hurt humanity. He just wanted to be left alone.  His stomach letting out a roar and pang of hunger changed his mind. Perhaps he'll leave after someone shows him to the kitchen. Then, after eating all their food, he'll be satisfied and ready to hunt again.  Dean rolled onto his front, hauling himself up on weak legs to stand; it didn't last however, as one knee gave out and he landed on the soft feathers and blankets. He wasn't hurt, just annoyed. He had felt his way before when John left him standing or cramped in the Impala trunk for too long. Normally he could begin walking again just on fear alone of getting smacked around. It wasn't working this time. Stupid Castiel had pretty much weakened his legs to the point of them not working properly. That was adjustable. He'd get them back to normal.  Speaking of which, the nursery door opened, in walking Castiel dressed in silk robes. He looked confused for a moment before his eyes laid on Dean.  "Good morning, my son." He smiled sweetly.  Dean glared.  "Did you sleep well?" Castiel softly asked. If the answer was 'no' then it was back to the nest immediately.  The teen's eyes narrowed, "About as well as anyone would being forced into this."  The Angel hadn't liked that response. After months of being hatched and nearly a year under Castiel's care, Dean should have settled in some. It was normal for Hatchlings to be weary of their surroundings and even clingy, Dean was only startled and angry. Nothing Castiel hadn't heard or seen before, but it was heartbreaking when it was his own. Then again, he blamed John Winchester.  "Dean, this isn't being done to you simply on the matter of forcing you to do what you do not want to do," Castiel explained, "I only wish to enrich your life and care for you."  "Well, you're doing it wrong!" Dean rudely informed before picking up the pink feather and waving it around aggressively, "and what is this?!"  Castiel tilted his head, confused. "A feather, my son." "I know that! I want to know why you think I'm some type of bird, the nest was bad enough, but this? What is it with you angels and these...these!?" Dean was lost. Everything was strange and frightening to him. It wasn't normal and his levels of coping and tolerance were lowering. Castiel, sensing this, reached over the crib bars to haul Dean from the bed and into his warm, loving embrace. Castiel honestly didn't care if he had a fussy Nestling, all he cared about was ensuring Dean knew he was loved. Oh, how he wished it could be that simple---an idea sparked in the Angel's head. He'd need to speak with Gabriel soon.  "Little one, are you hungry?" Castiel asked.  Dean said nothing, but his stomach spoke for him. Castiel chuckled, moving aside to leave the nursery. Dean was confused. He had anticipated the grace feedings to happen and it looks like the parental Angel knew what Dean was going to ask before the teen opened his mouth.  "You will still consume my grace, Dean. Just not as heavily anymore. You have been feeding on my grace alone for almost a year, it is time to wean you now."  Dean liked the sound of that. It had been strange and humiliating sticking those feather into his mouth like a baby clinging to it's mother. Dean blushed, he hoped that he'd never consume grace ever again.  "Don't be too harsh on yourself, my son, you seemed to enjoy it." Castiel smirked, walking into a room Dean hadn't seen before. It was a huge kitchen. To his surprise, it was all marble counter tops with white cabinets and furniture. It was very crisp, clean and fresh. As nice as the room was, something else caught the attention of the teenager: a rather large high chair that looked to fit him perfectly. Dean had no desire to stick around and confirm that theory either.  "I'm not sitting there!" He claimed.  Castiel frowned. "Dean. .."  "No!"  The angel sighed. Clearly, they weren't going anywhere with Dean's refusal and Castiel hadn't wanted to force Dean into anything. Of course Hatchlings were both demanding and rather fussy beings, but Dean hadn't settled in at all unless he was in the nest; though Castiel hated to see the fear in Dean's eyes when he saw no escape or way to avoid him. He didn't want his son to fear him. Deciding on another plan of action, Castiel felt it was best to sit down and talk with Dean.  "Very well, I believe you should have a moment to calm down and then we can talk about the situation. But Dean, I will not condone shouting or swearing, do you understand?" Castiel firmly explained, looking at Dean in the eye. The green eyed teenager nodded softly, "Fine by me." He put on a fake brave face. For the first time since his kidnapping, Castiel was willing to reason and listen with him, not stuff feathers in his mouth or lull him to sleep. The Angel carried Dean into a rather lavish living room. There were two large, white, tuffed couches facing one another with a pale coffee table separating them. The couches had plenty of pillows resting against the back and there was even a marble fireplace warming up the room. Castiel sat down on the edge of a couch, reaching at the side to a whicker basket to pull out a fleece blanket and wrapped Dean in it before allowing the teenager to sit down next to him. Not too far away where he could easily reach him, but not exactly hip to hip either.   Dean glanced around the room for a moment before Castiel answered his unasked question, "There is no way out, Dean. Every room we enter, or I place you in, you will find a hard time leaving; I will make that clear now."  The teenager glared. "What if there's a fire?"  "Impossible."  "A flood?"  "Again, not possible." "What if I'm in danger?"  "You'll never be here. Not if someone has a death wish. You are heaven's youngest Hatchling-a title that comes with practically a whole army ready to die for you."  Castiel's blunt answers were not amusing, but still surprising. It seems there was one thing after another that Dean either didn't understand or couldn't wrap his head around. Angels-beings that were (now not) a threat to humanity-clothing him, feeding him and treating him as if he were an infant-saying they'd die for him? what made him so damn special? Whatever bond Castiel said he shared with Dean, Dean wasn't feeling it.  "Dean-all your life you have been denied the love and support a parent should give their child. It is the parent's priority and a child's birth right." Castiel explained.  "Look, my old man was an asshole, but it's my fault okay?" Dean sighed, "Castiel. . . " the name rolled off his tongue like wet paper and left an odd aftertaste, "I am not what you think I am. I kill things-hunt things. I hunt beings like you." The blue eyed angel listened with intensity. "Humanity is shit, I get it-" "Language, Dean." Castiel warned. "Remember, I am willing to listen, but the cursing and shouting will not happen." "Er-yeah, sorry. Humans are awful to one another. We lie, cheat, steal and. . ." abuse their children. Dean shook his head, "Look, I'm not pure or anything. I don't want this. If you cared about me, you'd let me go. If you want me to be happy, send me back to Earth or wherever you found me. I don't have a bad life as much as others do."  The Angel was not often surprised, but Dean had managed to shake him to his core. The Angel's eyes slightly widened as he leaned forward towards Dean, causing the teenager to sink backwards.  "You don't believe you deserve to be saved?" Castiel asked in awe and slight disgust. The more he looked at Dean's petrified soul, the more he hated John Winchester. If only Dean could see it, his soul, he'd never doubt himself very again. He'd never see himself as ugly, or worthless, or deny himself any longer. If only.  "Saved?" Dean whispered. ". . . you know, you guys talk about saving people and bettering our lives, but I don't see it that way. I see a strange being show up out of no where and smite someone and then are gone in a flash." Dean's small hand gripped the couch and the blanket he was wrapped in. He wasn't blaming the angels for anything that happened in his childhood, that had all been his fault, he was too loud, whined and complained and killed his mother and brother, he deserved everything he was given by John. Castiel couldn't take it.  "You stop that, now." He demanded, not angry, but firm. "You are worth more than what others claim you are. You had nothing to do with that fire, Dean. You were but a child-are a child-my child."  "I'm NOT!" Dean screamed, blinking back tears. "I'm not a baby! I'm not anything!"  The angel held back the scolding he knew Dean deserved for breaking the "no shouting" rule he had laid not even a minute ago, forgoing another idea. Dean wasn't accepting this role, because it was unknown to him, Castiel understood that. Why his father created humanity's fear of the unknown, he didn't understand; perhaps Dean wouldn't be so scared if he knew what was coming? Castiel bit his lip. It was worth a shot. Sitting upright and bringing a wiggling Dean to sit on his lap, the angel raised his hand momentarily before taking his index and middle finger and swirling them in the air. Dean narrowed his eyes in confusion before gasping at the sight before him.  On the other couch was him. Only, he appeared younger, less tired and innocent. He wore a light blue feet-y pajamas, appeared to be suckling on a large pacifier and had some toy car in his hand. He was running it along the arm of the couch and making noises. Most prominent on his whole body, were a set of small wings that reached his shoulders lengthwise and reached his hips. However, the wings were translucent and he couldn't pick up on their color, though that didn't matter--it appears he grew a pain and that's all he was concerned about. Dean turned to Castiel, his mouth open slightly in confusion.  "Is. .. is that?"  Castiel nodded. "That's you, but not really."  "What do you mean?"  "It's a figurative you. Meaning, it's what you might become in the future if you allow me to care for you." Castiel watched with a small smile at the happy boy on the couch playing mindlessly with a toy 67' Chevy Impala. Dean watched himself. It was weird to say that, past you watching a theoretical future you. He had to admit, he didn't think he'd ever look like that. Not a scratch, bruise or lump on his entire body. He looked to have some color to his face, so he knew he wasn't starving and he did look happy. He hadn't been that happy. . . . ever.  Just then, Castiel and Dean watched as a figurative Castiel entered the room, the imaginative Dean spotted him, his face practically glowing in happiness as he reached upwards for Castiel to pick him up and snuggle him close.  Then, they were gone.  It was just the two of them. The real them.  Dean spoke up first after a few moment's silence, "So. . . If I stay. That'll happen?"  Castiel nodded.  "And. . . I'll like it?"  "It seems that way. We were both very happy, that's all that matters."  "And the wings. . ." That had been the toughest pill to swallow. He'd be an angel. He'd grow to enter Earth and do what Castiel did. What if he snagged some kid and made them hatch from an egg and then treated them like a helpless infant? Was that the price Humanity had to pay? Was that God's will? Castiel placed a tender hand on Dean's heart, counting backwards from ten into his little one's ear, helping sooth and calm him.  Castiel spoke when he felt it was time. "Dean, you will grow wings, as all Nestlings do. Right now, you are at the Hatchling stage, after that is becoming a Nestling, and then a Fledgling before you blossom into an Adult Angel. You will have to wait hundreds, if not thousands of years before you are allowed to walk on Earth. In due time, I will help you grow, train and teach you how to use your abilities and to fly."  Dean gulped at that last part. He hated heights and the thought of flying was terrifying.  Sensing his son's fear, Castiel held his Hatchling closer to him, stroking his sandy blonde hair. "My son, there is nothing to be afraid of. I will ensure you have the softest cloud to practice on. All of Heaven will ensure you grow prosperously."  "What if.. . . " Dean gulped. "What if it's wrong? What I just saw there was nothing more than an illusion. What if I still don't like this? I'm not. . . in humans years, Castiel, I'm too old for this!"  "I understand that, Dean. But you are no longer human-" "-by force."  "-and you were reborn. You have, as of now, no connection or blood ties to John Winchester. You consumed my grace, which saved your life. You are more my child, than you are his." That felt good to say. Perhaps this would be a comfort for Dean too. And a part of it was, but the stain would forever stick. He highly doubted anyone would forget being shoved into walls, closets or a trunk, no matter how old they grow.  "I'll live to be a thousand?" Dean avoided Castiel's last remark. He didn't want to talk about that.  Castiel nodded. "Quite young if you ask me." "Young?!" Dean almost laughed, "I'll be ancient! How old are you?" Forgetting casualties and manners, Dean was curious. If he was the supposed "youngest" Hatchling in heaven, then he supposed the oldest was probably God. But how old were the others? Castiel answered without a single thought.  "I am currently  440,000,000 million years old. My earliest memory was being told not to step on a fish by Gabriel, your uncle."  Dean almost choked on his saliva. "Four hundred and forty-four million?!" He gasped.  Castiel nodded. "God created me last; For a while, I was seen as the youngest as well, little one. Sort of funny how it works out. The youngest angel of them all now currently has the youngest Hatchling." Castiel gave Dean a humble and grateful smile.  Dean couldn't wrap his head around this. This was too much. He blinked when Castiel slid two fingers under his chin and forced him to look up. There was nothing but tenderness on Castiel's face, everything from his smile to the twinkle in his eyes and the small flushed blush on his cheeks. "Heaven was so excited at the news of my nesting, Dean. After your welcoming ceremony, they celebrated for thirty days and nights. There has not been a new Angel in any nests for quite some time. Our attention was always on Earth, and now, it seems things will come back to normal."  The Hatchling blinked, taking in every word Castiel spoke like a dry sponge in a bath tub.  "There's not an Angel that would hate you; no human that can harm you, above all, no one that can love you, like I do."  The words spoken cut Dean across his ribs, no, they didn't cut him, but they hurt. He hadn't realized they were hurting because he was holding in his sobs. At the slightest breath he let out, a loud sob followed. Why? Why had Castiel's words make him hurt so much? Who hurts because someone announced their undying love for them? Perhaps, it could be true? And all Dean was thinking was "Finally".  Someone had loved him before, someone a long time ago that was consumed by engulfing flames and then, no one loved him. Years living life on constant fear, hatred and pain can morph people into monsters, but not Dean. He wasn't a monster, someone loved him.  Castiel loved him. . . and he wanted to believe it.  "There, there, my little one." Castiel softly hummed, pulling Dean close to his chest and allowing the Hatchling to cry and dampen his robes. They sat together, for how ever long it took Dean to get his frustration and his pain out. His soul crying for notion of a second chance and eventually receiving it. He had felt his stomach give out a loud grumble, his eyes were red and irritate and his throat hurt, but with a quick feather from Castiel's wing and the suckling tugs, Dean was nursing and about to fall asleep. Castiel knew Dean would be fine.  After all, all Hatchlings cried when they were hungry and tired.