Castiel tries to convince Dean that hunting without Sam is not the most prudent decision, but it makes no difference; Dean always makes his mind up for himself, and Castiel has learned that any attempts at determent are categorically unfruitful.
Dean does not have to venture far from Bobby's to find the house plagued by the ghost of an angry farmer with a penchant for sharp gardening implements. Castiel offers to accompany Dean on the hunt, but is immediately shut down. He knows that Dean likes to hunt alone sometimes, but mostly he just wants to have the drive to himself in the Impala.
As Dean drives across the South Dakota border, Castiel sits invisibly in the passenger seat and watches as the sun illuminates Dean's tanned skin which already glows with a slightly ethereal tone from Castiel's grace interwoven into his form.
Castiel could stare at Dean for the rest of eternity and never tire of it. He knows every inch of that body. Every line, every freckle is carefully documented in his grace; Dean may have a physical mark from Castiel's touch, but Castiel's grace was also irrevocably changed the moment he made contact with Dean's soul.
Dean starts singing along with the song on the radio, and Castiel can't help but smile at how off-key his voice is; the sound still stirs Castiel's grace. Leaving the car, Castiel lands in a small town just beyond the South Dakota border.
The voices of the town's population murmur to Castiel, and his grace makes out their every thought. Still amazed by the sheer range of emotions available to mankind, Castiel is fascinated by what he hears from humans.
He can hear the dying, their souls flickering as the last of their night-oil burns away. He can hear the children with their unabashed love and faith. He can hear adults, jaded and frightened, trying to fool the world into thinking that they have it all under control.
Suddenly, Castiel hears and feels an explosion in the town. For a moment, his grace is filled with golden hallelujahs of praise and a blinding white light only visible to him engulfs the town. A new soul is born.
Following the pull of the newborn soul, Castiel finds himself in a ramshackle house on the outskirts of town. A woman lies on a bare mattress in the middle of the great room. There is a large quantity of blood pooled around her pelvis, and lying on her barely moving chest is a minuscule pink infant.
The woman struggles to keep her eyes open and she stares directly at Castiel, her frail body trembling. "Help me," She whispers, though she should not be able to see Castiel who is still cloaked from human eyes.
The woman's Reaper appears behind Castiel and looks at the angel contemptuously. "Do you intend to save her?" The Reaper is direct.
Castiel knows that he cannot and he shakes his head. When The Reaper has taken the woman, Castiel is left alone in the room and the infant begins to cry.
Contained within a newborn's cries are not just desires, needs and words; within those desperate wails are pieces of songs, indecipherable memories and images that are forgotten once the mind develops, and Castiel's grace absorbs all of them.
The infant is utterly alone. After one look at her Mother, Castiel knew her entire life story. The abuse, the abandonment, the drugs, the hopelessness, and now this child, as unwanted as the man whose seed had sewn the miracle into the woman's womb.
Picking up the baby, Castiel places two fingers on her forehead and she is suddenly clean and clothed as she falls into a peaceful sleep, tucked awkwardly in the crook of his arm.
Castiel is unsure what course of action is appropriate, so he returns to the Impala. Dean involuntarily jerks the steering wheel when Castiel appears in the passenger seat, and his eyes widen with pure terror when he sees the infant in Castiel's arm.
"What the fuck, Cas?" He exclaims, equally irritated by Cas' sudden appearance and shocked by the sleeping baby. "What the hell is that?" He asks.
"This is a female infant." Castiel supplies, surprised that Dean needs an explanation.
"I can see that," Dean quips as the baby stirs with a small wimper and pushes itself closer to Castiel's body. "Where did you get it?"
As Castiel explains what happened, Dean stops at the motel that he will be staying at. Something about the way Cas holds the baby makes Dean's heart flutter in an alien way. Though Cas looks like a lost, confused puppy with that bundle in his arms, there is a warmth in his embrace and the comfort the baby takes from his proximity is obvious.
"So now what do you plan to do, Daddy?" Dean asks as he pops the top off a bottle of beer with a smirk.
"I have no knowledge of how to care for a human," Castiel says in an even tone, his eyes staring into Dean's with a pleading expression as the baby begins to squirm and whine. "You were once an infant, Dean." Castiel realises that he came to Dean because he would know what to do.
Dean cringes as the baby begins to wail loudly; Cas' face scrunches in confusion when he places two fingers on her forehead and she continues to cry. Looking up at Dean, he begins to feel slightly helpless.
"God, Cas." Dean says in exasperation as he extends his arms to take the baby. Castiel is hesitant, but he passes off the upset infant to Dean who begins to rock her in his arms whispering sounds of comfort. Dean's soul burns brighter and Castiel's grace swells in response.
"She's probably hungry," Dean says over her cries, still shh'ing and rubbing his fingers across the bit of downy hair atop her head. Castiel counts each strand. Dean notices his expression. "We are not keeping her." He says adamantly, and as he does, Castiel watches the baby's mouth latch onto Dean's index finger, immediately placated.
Though Dean is irritated at the complication to an otherwise cut and dry hunt, the look in Cas' eyes is utterly worth it. When the angel looks down on the infant in Dean's arms, the entire world seems to stop spinning. Everything feels calm, and Dean feels a smile curl on the corners of his lips.
When Dean and Castiel reach the small, community hospital, Dean turns the Impala's engine off and turns to look at Castiel. He has been silent the entire drive, and he stares intently at the infant's small hand tightly grasping his vessel's finger.
"Her mother's name was Sarah." Castiel says as tendrils of his grace extend to swallow the infant's sleeping soul in its loving warmth. Dean doesn't move to get out of the car, he just waits for Cas to meet his gaze.
The baby gives a small hiccup and a momentary flash of terror plays across Cas' face. "It's ok, Cas," Dean says, and he doesn't only mean the baby. "Ready?" Dean places his hand on the door handle.
Castiel can barely hear Dean's voice. Sarah's (he calls the child after her mother) eyes open and stare into Castiel's. As she stares into his grace, he feels himself pull her closer to his vessel's body.
Ringing in Castiel's grace are Sarah's 'memories'. Mostly sounds from the short nine months she was able to spend with her mother. The voices are rough. Deep male voices shouting abuse are followed by the sound and jostle of a hard slap. Castiel can feel the trembling in Sarah's soul and his grace massages away the pain, confusion and sadness as he tries to pull on those rare glimpses of love and comfort.
He finds her mother's voice, the imprint of it in Sarah's soul, and he feels her relax into his arms with a coo as his grace fills her mind with the sound.
"Cas?" Dean prompts, concerned by Cas' lack of movement. Finally looking up from the baby, Castiel's eyes are baleful, pleading. "We can't." Dean says to Cas' unsaid words. "You saved her, man, but now it's time to give her to the doctors."
The warmth of Sarah against Castiel's chest is indescribable in its beauty, and he realises that he doesn't want to let go; he doesn't want to leave this child who is completely alone in the world. "This is customary?" He asks Dean. "The hospital will accept her?"
Dean places a hand on the baby's soft head and the other on Cas' cheek. "She'll be ok, Cas. I promise."
All of Castiel's concerns melt away but leave a slight ache in his grace. Dean promised, and Castiel knew his Father would look out for His child. Like a shepherd caring for even the smallest of the flock.