"CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSS!" The ear piercing wail broke through the silence as cleanly as a knife through butter, and Castiel flinched as it reached his ears. "CAAAAAAAASS!" He sighed, the noise bringing himself out of his thoughts and he stood up, stretching before he met the source of the wail. Turning, Castiel saw the small fledgling trying its hardest to get out of the playpen that he had made appear to accommodate it, annoyance plastered all over its face.
"Cas...!" The wail had subsided into a sad whimper, and Castiel felt his heart sink. He sighed again, and wandered over to the fledgling whose face lit up at the thought of getting attention.
"Cas!" It was then that his resolve gave out, and he lifted the small fledgling out of the playpen, holding him close to his chest. Small hands grabbed the lapels of his trenchcoat and tried to push itself further into Castiel's chest, small wings trying their hardest to wrap themselves around the older angel. A smile crossed his lips, for the first time since he could recall, and he pressed his face into the fledgling's hair.
"Cas... Where's Sammy?" Castiel's smile faltered for a moment, but he was certain that the fledgling hadn't noticed.
"Sam went on a different hunt... Do you remember? You were hunting a witch and required my assistance, Dean." Dean looked up from his position in Cas' arms, the small wings on his back no longer trying to wrap themselves around him. Castiel could almost see Dean's bottom lip start to tremble, and he knew that if something wasn't done quickly then the power behind the wail would hurt. He looked down as Dean looked up again, tears almost brimming over and Castiel did the only thing he could think of at that moment. He placed a reassuring hand on the chocolate, toffee and white coloured wings and pulled Dean in as close as he could without hurting him. Dean giggled, squirming and flapping the wings as best he could whilst Castiel held him, and Castiel could feel himself smiling. He let his grip slacken and Dean looked up at him again, his own smile on his face. It was only just seen before Dean buried his face into the trenchcoat again, and Castiel could feel the grace passing between the two of them.
"Cas?"
"Yes, Dean?"
"Wove you, Cas." He faltered. Words that as a normal human would never have passed the hunter's lips said so freely as a small fledgling, and they tugged on Castiel's heartstrings. Words that meant so much to the older angel, that he knew would never be said once Dean was fixed. Castiel gave Dean an almighty squeeze, kissing the top of his hair before finding the courage to return the words.
"I love you too, Dean." He smiled, then squirmed again, and Castiel knew he wanted to be put down. He tottered away, the small wings allowing him to do so without falling over until he sat down, finding something interesting in the weave of the motel carpet. Castiel watched the whole thing until he knew Dean would not want to be disturbed, and turned to the books that littered the table. He had to find a way to fix what the witch had done, and the memory of that particular hunt was one he wished he could forget...
Two days earlier...
"Cas, look out!" Castiel turned his head to look where Dean was, only to find himself flying into a pile of boxes stacked against the wall of the warehouse, leaving an angel shaped dent in the wall. The witch stalked towards him, igniting the ring of holy oil that he had conveniently landed in without saying a word, a malicious grin on her face. Castiel stood, watching her move then looked past her, noticing Dean creeping up behind her, knife in hand. The witch noticed Castiel looking past her, and turned to face the Hunter, grabbing his throat and lifting him off the floor with ease. She began to chant, eyes glazing over and Dean struggled as hard as he could, both to get free and for air.
"Dean!" Castiel moved as close as he dared to the flames, powerless to watch as the witch worked her magic on Dean, enveloping him in a sickly green coloured fog. "DEAN!" It was then that she dropped him, green fog following him and keeping him in the cloud so Castiel couldn't see him. He did, however, notice the arm that shot up, catching her unaware and resulting in a knife plunged hilt deep into her chest, shattering the glassy look and causing her to explode into a green mist not dissimilar in colour to the cloud surrounding Dean. The holy oil was extinguished, and Castiel ran to where the Hunter had been dropped, the cloud dissipating as soon as he was within touching distance.
"Dean, can you hear me? Dean!" The Hunter was lay on his back, unmoving, and Castiel could only just feel the life force keeping him alive. It was times like this that he was thankful for the profound bond they shared, but it now scared him as he knew Dean was perilously close to death. He lifted Dean into his arms and flew them back to the motel room, the Impala parked where she had been before they set off, and Castiel set about trying to fix whatever damage the witch had done. He gingerly placed two fingers to Dean's forehead, trying to assess whatever damage had been done, but Castiel couldn't feel anything. He sighed, sitting back on the bed that Dean was lay on and watched, waiting for any sign of consciousness that was welcome to make an appearance any time now. He waited for a couple of minutes, looking for any changes in any part of Dean that would let him know he was near waking up, but nothing happened and he moved to one of the chairs in the motel room, letting his mind wander whilst keeping an eye on Dean.
It was five hours before Dean came back round, consciousness hitting him like a tonne of bricks and alerting Castiel with the groan that escaped the hunter. He sat up slowly, head in hands, then quickly doubled over as pain racked his abdomen, and he barely made it to the bathroom before the pain became so much that he was whimpering.
"Dean! Dean!" Castiel banged on the bathroom door, but his cries were muffled by Dean's screams which abruptly stopped. The silence was unnerving and seemed to last forever until a sad whimper broke it. Castiel leaned closer to the door, trying to determine what could make a noise like that when it happened again, accompanied by the sound of sniffling.
"Dean...?" Castiel slowly opened the door, expecting to see Dean holding whatever was making the noise at gunpoint. Instead, he found a small child no more than four years old looking up at him, eyes red with tears and swimming in the clothes that Dean had been wearing before he rushed into the bathroom. He whimpered, and then Castiel knew where the noise had come from. He looked down again, and the child moved towards him, wrapping small arms around his leg and looking up expectantly.
"Cas..." Dean made an 'up' motion with his arms, and Castiel's expression turned to one of alarm. He didn't know how to deal with human children, but he had a rough idea of how to deal with fledglings, so he picked Dean up, holding him awkwardly. Dean squirmed until Castiel held him properly, noting how much more comfortable it made holding him. Dean looked up at Castiel, who still looked panicked, and gently headbutted the angel's chest in a comforting gesture.
"'t's oday, Cas. You're magic, you cab mend it."
"I'm not magic, Dean. Magic did this to you, I'm an Angel of the Lord."
"Angels are magic, Cas. You'll make me big again." A yawn made the last part of the sentence almost indecipherable, but Castiel understood what the yawn meant. "Jus' try this." Dean reached up to place two fingers on Castiel's forehead, and he knew what was trying to be said.
"I don't know if that will work-" Dean moved his fingers from forehead to lips and headbutted Castiel again.
"Jus' try Cas. Pwease." Castiel looked down at the de-aged Dean, who held nothing but hope in his eyes, and the angel could feel it. He desperately wanted Dean back to normal, but didn't know how far the witch's spell reached. Castiel sighed, again, and gently placed his fingers on Dean's forehead, almost willing his DNA to revert, his molecules to switch back to adult form. He felt something inside Dean pull away when Castiel's grace reached in to help, but Castiel ignored it and tried to find what it was. A tendril of grace brushed past whatever it was, causing a feeling like electricity to pass back up through it and Castiel yelped, almost dropping Dean.
"Cas?" Big eyes looked back up at him, and then they closed, Dean having drifted off into sleep from being on the receiving end of grace. Castiel gently placed him on one of the motel beds, but Dean's now small hands had the trenchcoat in a vice-like grip, so Castiel lay down first, allowing Dean to curl up with a thumb in his mouth on his chest. He watched carefully as Dean slept with no need of his own to sleep, but did so anyway without noticing. If anyone were to come into their motel room, they would just think it was a father taking care of his infant son.