Chapter Text
His superiors didn't give him any warning. Why would they? Angels were built to obey without question. Yet Castiel's free will grew in him like another organ. He felt it in there all the time. So when his superiors handed him an infant angel - a fledgling - the first thing he felt was questioning. Why?
Of course, he knew why. Whenever a new generation of angels were created, the older angels were each tasked with raising one. It was simply Castiel's turn to raise a fledgling of his own.
He stared down at the infant cradled in the crook of his arm and attachment already tugged at his heart. That was always his problem. Too much heart. The idea of an angel becoming emotionally bonded with a fledgling in his charge simply didn't exist in the old days because angels never had emotions. Castiel did though. Sometimes he loathed being so different from his siblings and the immediate attachment to his fledgling made it all the more pronounced.
Bright blue eyes almost too big for the infant angel's head stared up at him in wonderment. Naked, chubby arms wriggled free of the linen blanket swaddling his plump little body. Castiel pet the length of the baby's downy soft white wing, which brought cooes from plump little lips.
He had no idea how to raise a fledgling angel. The only person he knew with experience in babies was Dean, not that the angel was technically a human infant. He lifted the baby upright against his chest and pulled his overcoat snugly around him, the little head poking out just below his chin. His own black wings spread twenty feet wide and he flew to Kansas. If anybody knew what to do, it would be Dean.
"Hey, Cas," greeted Sam when he landed in Bobby's kitchen.
"Sam," he greeted in return. "Where's Dean?"
"Beer run with Bobby." The younger Winchester leaned into the refrigerator and rustled its contents. He always seemed to scavenge for food.
"Oh, I see." Anxiously, Castiel's knees bounced a bit in an effort to keep the baby calm and relaxed.
"Dancing, Cas?" But as Sam finally looked at him, he dropped the plastic container of sliced ham, eyes wide in shock. "Holy shit, what is that?"
"An infant, Sam."
"I-I know but..." Eyes narrowed, he approached cautiously and picked at the blanket hanging off of a wing. It fell over Castiel's arm, revealing the unmistakable shape and texture of a fluffy white angel wing. "You ... did you knock up some girl, Cas?"
Castiel squinted. "Why would I strike a female?"
"No, it's a figure ... You know what, never mind. Just start at the beginning. Why do you have a baby?"
The more Castiel talked in his low, gravely hum, the more relaxed the baby became until he dozed against his blue tie. "Every angel has to raise a fledgling at some point. It's God's law. I was raised by Gabriel and now ... apparently, it's my turn. I didn't get a choice in the matter. I was simply handed my fledgling and sent on my way."
Sam's brows furrowed together, somewhat confused, but mostly outraged for him. "So they just dump a kid on you and say good luck?"
"Basically, yes," replied Castiel as he negotiated sitting down without waking the little thing.
Noise of a door opening, heavy boots, rustling plastic bags, and voices at the front of the house interrupted their conversation. Although Castiel made no move to get up, Sam bolted for the front hall, presumably to warn Dean and Bobby about the weirdness sitting in the kitchen. The baby angel's tiny fist found its way to his mouth and made a slight sucking motion in his sleep. Castiel's hand covered the entire infant's back with fluffy wings sticking out around it.
Low voices murmured back and forth in the hall, but Castiel didn't need to listen to know what was said. Soon Dean's head popped into the kitchen, worried and filled by disbelief.
"Holy shit. Sammy wasn't lying," he murmured as if the shock knocked his voice out of him.
"Hello, Dean," said Castiel. "I need your help."
"I'd say so. But why me?" Though he tried not to stare, he leaned close enough that his shadow covered the fledgling.
"You're the only one I know who's raised any young," he explained.
"Human kids, Cas. Human. There's probably a big difference. Ben was eight when I found him. Bobby-John ... he wasn't even a normal baby. He was a shifter. Sometimes I saw Lisa's niece but--"
"--Dean, I need you to stow your crap, as you say, and help me!"
"Okay, okay." Dean put out his hands defensively. "Chill out, man. First rule - never wake up a sleeping baby. Why is he sleeping anyway if he's an angel? It's a he, right?"
"Angels can be either gender or none at all," Castiel explained. "This infant vessel is male. Some fledgling traits are more human than you might expect. There's a need to consume nutrients and expel waste. Sleep is necessary for the growth process. Two years into fledgling life, consuming, expelling, and sleeping will taper off." He momentarily squeezed his eyes shut but it did nothing to ease the vague, confused emotions. "Raising my fledgling in Heaven..." The revulsion made him shake his head.
Dean seemed to get a better grasp on the real situation. He pulled a chair close to Castiel and leaned his forearms on his knees. "Why can't you take the little guy upstairs? I'm sure you all help each other with this kind of thing."
He shook his head again. It took a minute to even formulate the right words to explain what he didn't fully understand yet. "I can't," he said quietly, fearfully. "If I raise my fledgling in Heaven, he'll grow into another angel ruled by blind obedience and faith without question. That's what I'm supposed to teach him. But that's not who I am anymore." He paused, once again shaking his head as if the confession was wrong. "I came here first thinking it was safe. There's a peculiar emotional attachment that isn't supposed to happen and I'm going to be reprimanded by my superiors as soon as they find out. We are not supposed to emotionally attach to our fledglings. I wasn't supposed to attach to you or Sam or Bobby either. This fledgling didn't do anything wrong but we could both face punishment for this."
Nodding occasionally as he listened, Dean's eyes shifted between Castiel and the infant from time to time. "Then as far as I can tell, you either have to give the kid back, or you have to raise him yourself the way you think he should be raised."
"You're suggesting I kidnap a fledgling," he replied.
"They gave him to you, right? He's your responsibility. He's yours. That's not kidnapping. That's protecting your kid from the brainwashing that you know goes on upstairs." Dean shrugged. "Ben wasn't mine either but I raised him like he was while I was with his mom. If I can do it, I don't see why you couldn't do it. Sink or swim, you know?"
Castiel squinted at the hunter sitting in front of him, wondering how he could be so insightful and patient in those moments of clarity, yet so emotionally constipated with his own emotions.
"You gotta stop calling him 'the fledgling' though. He needs a name," Dean continued. He slid his hands under the infant and took him away from Castiel, folding him in the crook of his elbow and adjusting the blanket around him. "So it's a little weird holding a kid with wings. Whatever. Just don't barf on me." He glanced at Castiel. "It's kinda nice, you know? He's cute. He has blue eyes like you. What are we gonna call him?"
"We?" mumbled Castiel. The sight of Dean holding his fledgling tugged at his overused heart.
"Sure. I'll help out. Sammy'll get used to it once he realizes it's like having a puppy. We're not going anywhere just 'cause you're kidnapping a baby angel from Heaven." He smirked at his last statement, but his expression shifted to the fear on Castiel's face. "Look, Cas, I'm all for breaking those brainwashing cycles. If you're attached to him already, then be his father. I'm gonna be here too. You're gonna need a place to hole up with the little guy. Stay close and I'll just cut back on cases for a little while." He shrugged and looked at the baby again. "Who knows? It might be fun."
"James," blurted Castiel suddenly.
"James?"
He nodded. "Jimmy Novak's full name was James. Without his prayers to be of service, I wouldn't have my vessel and I wouldn't be considering this insanity."
"James," repeated Dean again, and then spoke to the fledgling. "What do you think? You like James?"
"I'm going to be a fugitive," said Castiel in a low, dismal tone.
Dean nodded as he patted James' little butt and swayed a bit. "I figured as much. It's a hell of a lot better than not having the balls to stand up for the kid though. He'll be smart like Sammy, he'll have free will like all of us, and he'll be generous like you."
"Are you certain I'm doing the right thing?" Castiel asked, though he knew already. He knew when his first instinct was to bring James there.
"Yep," replied Dean without hesitation. "You sure?"
Leaning forward, Castiel's fingertips combed through the downy soft wing closest to him. James yawned, stretched, and his wings stretched as well. In a couple of years, those wings would molt and disappear from Dean's spectrum of vision. They had two years to bring up an angel together as a makeshift family and teach him to think and feel for himself. Old cycles didn't break without courage and freedom was the only thing worth risking life and limb to achieve.
"I suppose I'm your father now, James," he said to the baby.