Well, I did end up getting a one shot done! I've been sick this week so I've had a lot of time to write lol :P And my next story is going well so depending on how much I get done over the weekend I may start posting it Monday, but more likely I will start posting it next Friday as planned. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy just this little fluffy one shot. I wanted just some Cas and Jack fluff after writing Nature and Nurture :)
Of Family and Feathers
A Supernatural Fanfic
Perhaps it was because Castiel hadn't been at Jack's actual birth, or perhaps because of the fact that Jack had essentially been born a full grown young adult, but he sometimes forgot that the nephillim was extremely young, and knew little about how to be a human in the world, let alone how to deal with all the things that made him different from the general populace.
But he soon discovered that it wasn't just coaching Jack on how to use his powers that Castiel needed to be concentrating on, but how to properly care for a nephillim as well.
He started out noticing small changes in Jack; the boy got more irritable, shorter-tempered when they were practicing with his powers, and also his lack of hunger and poor sleep. Not that the boy slept much—well, not that any of them did—but Jack's sleep patterns had became even more restless which made him, in turn, more irritable.
And then Sam and Dean brought up the fact that there were random feathers all of a sudden floating around the bunker.
"What the hell's up with all the feathers?" Dean asked one day as he picked several up from where they lay on a bookshelf. "Someone have a pillow fight I didn't know about?"
Sam gave him a bitchface. "I don't know, Dean, they might have come from something in the bunker, but there definitely have been no pillow fights."
Castiel reached across the table to take the feathers from Dean, frowning as he studied them. There was something familiar about them…
Jack looked up from a book he was reading. "I found a bunch of them in my bed too. I don't know where they came from." He reached behind him then with a scowl and scratched at his back, twisting in his chair to try and reach the spot that was obviously itching.
Castiel frowned as Jack's behavior caught his eye and all of a sudden several more fluffy feathers appeared as if from out of nowhere. Castiel pushed his chair back and strode around the table toward the young nephillim who still seemed to be having trouble finding the right spot to itch.
"I think I may know where they're coming from," he said. "Jack, has your back been itching for a few days?"
Jack frowned and grunted. "Yes, I can't get it to stop, and no matter how much I scratch it doesn't seem to do anything. It's like the itch is there, but it's…not."
Castiel couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before. He wanted to kick himself for not even thinking about the possibility that Jack, being half angel, would develop much the same as a fledgling.
"Jack, your wings are molting your first down. You're fledging."
Jack, Sam and Dean all stared at him at the same time.
"Come again?" Dean asked.
"Wait, Jack, you have wings?" Sam asked right after, an incredulous and fascinated look on his face.
Castiel nearly rolled his eyes. "Jack is half angel. How do you think he is able to disappear? Only demons can actually teleport, angels fly."
"Huh," Sam replied with a thoughtful look, and shrugged at his brother. "Guess I never thought of that."
"Well, I…guess I've always known I have wings, but they've always just kind of…been there," Jack said helplessly. "I didn't realize they had feathers." He picked up one of the downy plumes that had fallen onto the table, before he squirmed in his seat again. "They're very uncomfortable."
Castiel smiled wryly. "Yes, fledging and molting are not enjoyable things to go through. Your…growth spurt probably shocked your wings into holding out on the fledging for a bit. They're usable, but you're growing in your adult feathers now. I'm sorry I didn't even think about it before, Jack. I should have been teaching you about all of this."
"Huh, well, this one's on you, Cas," Dean said as he stood up and clapped the angel on the shoulder. "I already had to explain puberty to Sam, and I know nothing about nephillim coming of age."
"I'm afraid I know little myself," Castiel said regrettably, as he gave Jack a sad smile. "Nephillim are so rare, and I've never heard of one who grew as fast as you did. But I can at least teach you how to care for your wings, and help you get through your first molt." He touched Jack gently on the shoulder. "Why don't we go to your room so you can be comfortable. I'll teach you how to manifest your wings."
Jack looked at him with wide eyes. "I can do that?"
Castiel nodded with a small smile. "Yes."
"Can you do that?" Sam asked Castiel.
"Dude," Dean nudged his brother but looked interested to know the answer himself.
Castiel shrugged. "Yes. All angels can. It's just not something that's typically done as it puts our wings in a very vulnerable position."
Sam and Dean looked interested, sharing a glance. Castiel shook his head slightly as Jack stood and they went to the nephillim's room. Jack seemed uncertain of what to do, but Castiel smiled and nodded to the bed.
"Just sit on the bed where you'll be comfortable, we'll be a while. Now take your shirt off because it will just tangle in your wings."
Jack sat cross-legged on the bed and slipped his shirt over his head, his shoulder blades scrunching up at what Castiel knew to be an extremely annoying sensation. Castiel moved to stand behind the nephillim. "Now, Jack, I want you to close your eyes and concentrate. Really center in on your wings, feel them, and imagine them as something psychical. Picture their weight and their density in your mind."
Jack's face scrunched up and he rolled his shoulders but nothing happened.
"I don't know how to do it," Jack sighed and reached around to scratch at his back again.
"Just try again," Castiel said patiently, and reached out to grip Jack's hand, pulling it away from his back and settling one of his own against Jack's spine right between his shoulder blades. He could feel the energy signals from Jack's wings responding to his own grace. "First relax."
He closed his own eyes and moved his hands slightly to one side, feeling the tendrils of Jack's ethereal right wing. The nephillim sat up straighter, feeling the contact. "You feel my hand? Good. Now concentrate on that feeling, and picture your wings as flesh and bone."
It took a couple seconds but soon the energy signals were replaced with warm soft feathers under Castiel's fingers and he barely dodged a surprised flap of Jack's wings as the nephillim jolted in surprise at what he had done.
"Cas, look!" he said in awe, twisting to take in the sight of his own wings. "I did it!"
"You did," Castiel said with a proud smile. And Jack's wings were truly beautiful. They were a soft gold color that almost looked like honey, speckled in places with darker brown. Of course that was mostly the baby down. On the new permanent feathers that were coming in, Castiel could see iridescent flashes of copper shooting through the plumes.
"They're so big, how can I not feel them all the time?" Jack wondered with amazement as he stood and spun around, glancing in a mirror to catch a better glimpse of them. He accidently knocked several books of the side table and nearly tipped the desk chair over. "Oops."
Castiel smiled. "And that's another reason it's not very practical to have them corporeal like this." He motioned to the bed. "Come on. Sit down, and I'll help you groom them."
Jack clumsily climbed back onto the bed, struggling to position his wings without sitting on them. Castiel reached out to run his fingers tentatively through the baby down, watching as quite a few soft plumes came free. Jack's wing twitched.
"Let me know if you're uncomfortable," Castiel told him.
"It doesn't hurt really, just itches," Jack said.
"That's because you have a bunch of new feathers coming in," Castiel said, feeling some of the quills under the other feathers. "You'll have to be careful not to scratch too much because you'll damage them. It will be uncomfortable for a while, and even painful, but once all your new feathers grow in, you'll probably find your wings to be a lot stronger."
Jack nodded as Castiel continued to soothe his fingers through the feathers, loosening all the ones that were ready to come out and straightening others that had gotten ruffled. "Does it feel any better?" he asked.
Jack nodded. "Yes, actually. Still a bit itchy though."
"Warm baths help," Castiel said. "We'll do this every day until all your feathers grow in. And then a monthly grooming would be a good idea to keep your feathers in good shape. Feathers that get out of line can be uncomfortable or painful."
"Do angels do this all the time?" Jack asked.
Castiel felt a slight pang in his chest. "In Heaven, yes, angels typically help to groom each other's wings. It is usually the job of the elder angels to do what I'm doing for you now. Helping fledglings' feathers to come in well and teach them how to care for their wings. It's what angelic brothers and sisters are supposed to do for each other."
"Who grooms your wings now, the Winchesters?" Jack asked curiously. "They're your family, right?"
Castiel was taken aback by the question. In all the years he'd been with Sam and Dean, he hadn't even considered asking them to help him groom his wings. They hadn't even known he could bring them onto the physical plane as had been evidenced earlier. Obviously his wings were in a poor state at the moment though not entirely because he'd been unable to care for them properly. He'd done as much as he could himself on several occasions when he'd had the time, but he'd gotten out of the habit of wing care after loosing his grace. He knew his wings would never be completely whole again with only part of his grace left, and grooming wouldn't exactly help his problems now.
"Oh, well, no. Typically it's a communal thing among angels," Castiel frowned in thought. Really it was a communal thing among family. There was no reason he couldn't have asked Sam or Dean to help him. Besides the obvious. He was embarrassed by his wings, and they would likely think the request bizarre—especially Dean. It just seemed like more trouble than it was worth.
"So…no one grooms your wings?" Jack asked, turning to look over his shoulder at Castiel. "But it feels so nice. Mine are already less uncomfortable."
"Well, my wings aren't what they once were," Castiel admitted a bit uncomfortably, not wanting to burden the boy with his troubles.
Jack frowned and turned around completely, his wings tucking up against his back. "Can I help you with your wings, Castiel? I might not be very good at it, but I'll learn."
Castiel was taken aback again at the young nephillim's simple innocence and kindness. But his heart warmed as well. That anyone could think this child was anything but good was ridiculous.
"Oh, Jack, that's kind of you, but not necessary."
Jack frowned and cocked his head to one side. "But you shouldn't have to do it yourself. I can imagine it would be hard. Please, I want to repay you in some way for all the help you have offered me."
"Jack, you don't ever need to think you owe me anything," Castiel told him fondly.
"But you're family," Jack insisted, standing up. "Family takes care of each other."
Castiel sighed, but finally relented, not wanting to make the boy feel bad by refusing. Even though he didn't truly want Jack to see the state of his wings any more than he wanted the Winchesters to see them. "Very well."
He swiftly stripped to the waist, and closed his eyes. It had been a long time since he had manifested his wings like this, but he reached and pulled them onto the physical plane. Ragged black plumes appeared in his periphery and a dull ache settled into his shoulders, reaching to the tips of his wings. He bit back a groan as they settled against his back, a mess of twisted feathers, and slightly crooked bones that would never fully heal right. Not to mention the feathers that still bore the scars of hellfire. He was sure it was a pitiful sight to the young nephillim.
He heard the sharp intake of breath behind him from Jack. "Castiel," the nephillim said. "Do…do they hurt?"
Castiel bit his lip. "No, not exactly." It wasn't really a lie. He had been living with his wings like this for so long that he didn't really feel them anymore. He had just pushed the pain to the back of his mind to be overtaken by more important things.
"What…happened?" Jack asked hesitantly.
Castiel turned to face him. "When the angels fell our wings were injured beyond repair. Even mine, because I lost most of my grace and am now unable to use the full range of the powers I once had. But they had been damaged before that when I went to Hell twice to rescue Sam and Dean."
Jack's eyes were wide as he listened to Castiel's brief explanation, and the angel hated the look of sadness, pity, and regret, on his face. "So that's why you can't fly."
"Yes," Castiel said.
"I'm sorry, Castiel."
Castiel smiled sadly. "It's not your fault, Jack. It was my own follies that brought my misfortunes. It is penance for everything I did wrong."
"I don't think you deserve it," Jack told him firmly as he moved behind Castiel to inspect his wings. "You are a good person, Castiel."
"It's nice of you to say that," Castiel replied with a small sigh, knowing that if the boy knew all the things he had done in the past, he would probably not be so ready to think so.
"May I?" Jack asked, reaching for his wings.
"You can just straighten the crooked feathers if you want to," Castiel said. "There's nothing you can do for the missing and broken ones." Though a lot of the broken ones should come out eventually. But Castiel could do that himself at some other time.
However, the instant he felt Jack's gentle and slightly hesitant hands descend on his wings, fingers carding through the meager feathers, Castiel could feel a charge go through his grace, connecting for a moment to Jack's essence. There was a warmth that was almost burning traveling through his appendages and his grace, and a glow began to illuminate the room.
"Jack, what are you doing?" he asked before a burst of light flared up and then disappeared.
Castiel staggered slightly, a sudden, full weight on his back and he spun, glancing over his shoulder at the nephillim, but his view was obscured by copious amounts of black, glossy feathers. He was in shock. His wings were whole again.
"Jack," he gasped. "What did you do?"
The nephillim looked just as stunned as Castiel. "I'm…not sure. I just thought how much I wished I could fix your wings, and then…it happened."
Castiel, overcome with more emotions than he could name, simply stepped forward and pulled Jack into an embrace, a painful lump in his throat. He couldn't stop smiling though. For the first time in what seemed like millennia, his wings didn't hurt, and they were whole. He could fly again.
"Jack, thank you," Castiel whispered into the top of his head before he pulled away and flared his wings out to look at them. They didn't even bear the scars of hellfire, not that he would have minded keeping those as much, but just the thought that his wings were completely healed, and whole again…it was more than he could take.
"Jack, would you like to go flying?" he asked the nephillim.
Jack's eyes brightened and he smiled and nodded. "Yes!"
Later that night, Castiel and Jack stood on a cliff face in Argentina and watched the sunset. He had taken the nephillim all over the world to his favorite spots, the most beautiful places on Earth that he had missed visiting in the years he couldn't fly. But now, because of Jack, he could. He looked at the boy, watching the golden light of the sun play across his face, and decided that, finally, something good had come from his mistakes. Perhaps he had finally served his penance, and this boy was his reward or maybe something had just finally gone right in his life for once. Whatever had brought on this unexpected blessing, Castiel just knew that it had been a long time since he had felt this content.