Season 6, a little AU, no war in Heaven and Raphael is dead, so all the proof of the heavenly war in the episodes didn't happen.
Tell me what you think so I'll be more inclined to write more :P. This idea possessed me and I couldn't let it go unless I got a chapter out. The story might or might not be that long. It depends on how it comes out.
Disclaimer: I WISH I owned the Winchesters. If I did, I'd probably gender-bend them into females and lock them in my closet to have sweet, sweet sex with them.
Cas had a secret. He was lying to the Winchesters. There was no war in heaven. The archangel Raphael was dead. The story he had told the brothers was a cover up, a way to avoid telling the truth, but give him a very important excuse to spend his time where he needed to. He couldn't tell the truth to the Winchesters. Who knew what they would think, say or do? Even Castiel was at a loss. He didn't know what he was doing or how to do it, but he managed to get by.
The feelings he felt about the situation were strong. He felt such things toward this one individual that he never expected when this all started. It was stronger then what he felt for the Winchester brothers even. The only thing he could compare this devotion he had to was what he felt about God. Only, these might even be stronger than that. This living creature before him was real, something he could see, touch, feel, care for. He could believe in this being with all of his heart. He was there. He could look into those eyes and see him, know him for everything he was and wasn't. That was something God could never do for him.
There was another difference he felt from this being and God. While with God, he felt loved and protected and watched over, he felt it all inside out for this creature. He was the one loving, watching over, and doing the protecting. When he thought deeply about it, he knew he would give his life for this individual. How did this happen? Why?
Castiel carded through the soft locks of hair that belonged to the small boy in his lap. They were… watching television. It was something the child liked to do. Castiel didn't quite understand it, especially with the strange, nonsense speaking, costume dressed alien-like beings squeaking about nothing in particular dancing across the screen and singing about friendship or sharing, but the one curling up against him giggled and his eyes lit up and somehow, that was the only thing that mattered.
He was the first human child to be brought alive into Heaven, but then again, maybe that wasn't entirely right. Castiel wasn't sure if the boy was human, not entirely anyway. In fact, for all intents and purposes, he shouldn't have existed. He was created by Crowley, an experiment, and Castiel had saved him from pain and torture. He took him under his wing, pardon the pun, and took his innocent, sad young face into his care and placed him under his responsibility.
The child was at first relieved to be away from the monster and clung to Cas, then he started asking questions. Where was his family? When could he go back to them? They must be worried sick.
Unfortunately, there was no real family left for the boy to go to. When Castiel explained the situation, the child had broken down and cried for days. He was miserable for weeks. Sometimes, at night, he would cry out for his family. Castiel would go to him, try to comfort him. Sometimes, the boy screamed at him and even hit him, yelling at him to go away. Other times, he accepted the comfort and cried in his arms.
Eventually, the child started to mend. Castiel found himself charming the young boy with the wonders of Heaven and all it could be, what it could do. The boys became amazed and awed by the beauty, the power, the magnificence.
He stayed up with the boy and read him fairy tales until he fell asleep. He would sit by his bed sometimes, watching. Sometimes the child had nightmares and called out for Castiel in the middle of the night. He would awake the sweet child and tell him that everything was okay.
He found himself falling for the child. He was enamored by his innocence and purity. The way his eyes lit up and the sound of his laughter. Those big, expressive eyes and the sweet actions the child would do to show Castiel of his affection.
The then six year old had asked for a teddy bear. He demanded that it would have wings. Castiel obliged of course and gave him a big, white fluffy teddy with white wings and a halo above it's head. The boy had held it close, looked up at Castiel, and said. "His name will be Cas and he'll be my angel like you. I love him."
It wasn't that he didn't care a time later about Sam's soul being gone and the brothers going through hell when they called out for his help, but really, there was nothing he could do about to help them and the child he now looked after needed him. He grew upset when Castiel was away for too long, afraid he wouldn't come back, despite Castiel's reassurances.
Dean ended up calling him loudly and yelled at him when he managed to get in contact with Castiel, spitting out at the angel that he and his brother were important, that they needed help and that the angel had to give it to them.
So he stayed and helped the soulless Sam and soulful Dean while the boy slept soundly back in Heaven until he heard a quiet sobbing at the back of his mind and the pleading for his angel. That's what the boy liked to call him sometimes, his guardian angel. Cas had immediately spat out an excuse at Dean and rushed to the boys side. The sobbing child had thrown himself into Castiel's arms and held on tight. He'd had a nightmare. Castiel soothed him, rubbed his back and told the boy that everything would be okay, that he was here now. The sobs quieted and soon the child was just holding him peacefully. Castiel took the child back to bed and tucked him under the covers, running a hand through his hair and looking down at him fondly.
"You should go back to sleep."
The child nodded before speaking quietly. "Goodnight Dad."
Castiel's eyes had widened in surprise and he felt his heart fill with such whirlwinds of emotion. Shock, confusion, sadness, happiness, and... love? He didn't want to hurt the child's feelings, but he wanted to know what had caused the child to say such a thing. He hadn't helped create the child in his original form or this one, so why would he title him as a parent?
"Why did you call me that?"
The child's innocent eyes widened in slight fear.
"Are you mad?"
"No, just trying to understand."
"You-you… you look after me and… It just feels right. It feels like you are. You take care of me and hug me when I'm sad to make me feel better. You get me toys and stay by me. For a long time, I thought I didn't have a father anymore, but now I feel I do. It's you, my guardian angel." His voice gained a little more confidence then and he looked determined and serious as he then said. "You're my father."
Castiel took a breath, taking the information in.
"Is that okay?" the child asked, his innocent wide eyes looking into Castiel's, begging for permission.
Castiel's brain filled with inner conflicts and questions and debates and such feelings, turning and warring with each other for a minute before they decided there was really nothing to argue about in the first place. The answer was simple and he gave it to the precious child before him.
"Yes."
The child smiled and sat up to hug Castiel, a hug which the angel returned. When the child laid down he repeated. "Goodnight Dad."
He curled up to his teddy and Castiel smiled, stroking the hair of the child he had come to feel was his own in the past year.
"Goodnight… son."
He tasted the word on his tongue, let it roll around. It felt strange, foreign. He'd never imagined such a word would ever be spoken from his lips in the countless years of his existence, but now, it had been and it felt as true, if not truer, then God himself. Despite having no blood similarities with the child, he felt the boy to be his.
Later, Sam had tricked his presence over, claiming an angelic artifact had been spotted on earth, which turned out to be a lie. He threatened to hunt Castiel down and find a way to murder him if he didn't help, that he didn't sleep and wouldn't stop until he found a way to bring about his death.
He thought of the child so dear to him in heaven… his child, and what Sam would do if, in his pursuit of Castiel's homicide (or... angelcide?), he found the innocent boy. Such fear that he had never known filled his vessel's veins. Greater fear than caused by the apocalypse, even stronger than the dread and horror he'd felt at losing his angelic essence, the fear of becoming human.
So he helped and it turned out they were going after Crowley, the demon that had caused his child pain. He wanted nothing more than to murder the demon. Such anger and hostility drowned him that he felt more familiarity with his demonic cousin than he'd ever thought would be possible.
He couldn't let this spawn of hell live. He had to die. He deserved so much worse than what he was about to give, but it would have to do. When he walked in and saw Sam and Dean pinned to walls, he glared.
"Leave them alone," he said coldly.
The demon raised an amused eyebrow. "Castiel, haven't seen you all season."
"Put the knife down," he ordered calmly, murder lacing his every word.
This man hurt, tormented and used his friends, and tortured his child. There were no words he could use to describe the inhuman rage he felt. He felt like he imagined an archangel would before a vicious smite.
"You that bossy in heaven?"
Castiel opened the bag in his hands.
"Hey, what's in the giftbag?"
The angel met Crowleys eyes with a piercing gaze and brought out a skull. "You are."
"Not possible…"
"You didn't hide your bones as well as you should have," he said before chucking the skull back into the bag.
Crowley turned to Castiel, tucked the demon killing knife under his arm, and clapped.
"Cookie for you."
"Can you restore Sam's soul or not?"
Castiel snapped his fingers and released Sam and Dean from their pinning holds against the wall.
"If I can help in any other way…"
"Answer him!" Dean snapped.
The rage and turmoil was clear in the older Winchesters eyes. The desperation, grief, and sick black hope for his brother shone from his jade depths.
Crowley turned to Castiel and smirked, before looking at Dean.
"No, I can't. Not… anymore anyway."
"What the hell do you mean?" Dean snapped, wanting, demanding, a straight answer.
Castiel's eyes burned with warning and fury.
"He didn't tell you?" the demon asked with a chuckle. "Figured your little winged boy-toy would have clued you in." He turned to look at Castiel with a playful grin. "Oh, you naughty angel."
"Don't listen to him," Castiel hissed out.
"You see," Crowley said, slowly, pleasantly, as if the words from his lips were sips of a fine wine and he savored each one as it trickled down his throat. "I was working on a way to… restore Sam as it were, a little experiment of mine. A ritual of sorts to make Sam back into the soulful all-too-sensitive brat he used to be,"
Dean turned to look at Castiel with accusing eyes. He looked like an angry rattle-snake, willing to strike at anyone that so much as stepped the wrong way in front of him.
"He's lying," Castiel said.
"but your angel friend here came in and stopped me," Crowley continued. "Took away the key part of my little spell and hid it away. He's probably keeping it right now, locked up nice and safe."
"Is that true?" Dean snapped at Castiel and when he got nothing but silence, turned back to Crowley. "So you could restore Sam if you had this… thing he took?"
"Well," Crowley said, "I would be able to restore him to his former self."
"No you wouldn't," Castiel bit out.
"Maybe not exactly, but pretty close," Crowley said. "Closest thing you could get and it would have been much better than that lump of emptiness over there."
Sam glared at being called a lump of emptiness, looking ready to leap forward and attack at command, like a snarling pit-bull held back on a leash waiting to be thrown into the ring of a dog fight so he could rip and tear and kill, the only things he really knew how to do before, the only things the brought up memories raising him to be a killer told him made sense anymore with no feelings to keep the limits in check.
Castiel simply looked over to the bag of demon bones and set it afire with a glance before flicking the angry blue eyes to the demon, feeling a sick delight inside of him as he watched the smug smile ripped clean from his face as he burst into flames, screaming. He savored every moment of the demons all-too-long-awaited death. Then, he turned. Of course, Dean was at his back, yelling at him.
"What the hell Cas? Is what he said true? Have you known how to get Sam's soul back all along?" he growled out.
"It wouldn't have been Sam. His soul is in hell and would have stayed there no matter what. What the demon would have done is simply put up an illusion, a falsity."
"What are you talking about? What was the ritual?"
"None of your concern," Castiel said coldly. He couldn't tell Dean or Sam. He just could not. Especially in their mentally lacking states, there wasn't even a guarantee they would see the situation for what it was and treat it rationally. And he didn't want to risk them taking his child from him.
"Damn it Cas, it IS my freaking concern. It's my brother's soul we're talking about here. There's nothing that could possibly be more of my concern."
Cas turned to leave. Dean followed right behind him along with Sam.
This time it was Sam who spoke. "What is the object he said you're hiding, the key to the spell or whatever?"
"Nothing. Goodbye."
"No you don't! You're freaking explaining this to us right now," Dean barked.
Castiel disappeared from them, mind on getting back to heaven and the child waiting for him, but he didn't foresee what Dean would do next, despite that it was bound to happen. If he'd have known, he would have went anywhere else but back to heaven and the child. Dean, in anger, had grabbed onto Castiel's shoulder and was taken with Castiel to a place no living humans were even allowed. Castiel pulled back from Dean, horror written clear across his face. Dean looked confused as to what freaked out his angel friend so bad, but then looked determined to figure out what the hell he'd been hiding.
His eyes locked on the child, the child Castiel now viewed as his own. He'd woken up in the time Castiel was gone and smiled widely at the sight of the angel he now viewed as his father. Then his innocent face held the expression of curiosity as he saw the man standing behind his guardian angel. Had his father brought home a friend? What was he doing here? Castiel's heart wrenched with such fear and desperation. He wanted to cry out, scream at his… his son to run, run away, but the words locked up in his throat, his vessel so filled with these emotions that he couldn't even breathe, and it was too late anyway.
Dean had seen the child and turned to him. The Winchester brother's face paled in shock, like his breath had been stolen away. He looked at the now seven year old child with such total and utter confusion that he looked as if he were about to explode. Then, after a minute of silence, he spoke one word, a name.
"Sam?"