Hello! This is my first story within the Supernatural fandom. Usually I write Star Trek fanfictions, but I needed a break from the fandom to avoid running out of ideas and to get over some less than ideal things happening in my life right now.

Title: Silver in our Lungs

Pairings: (eventual) Destiel, others

Warnings: none (if there are things in this chapter I should warn about, please inform me of them!)

Rating: M (just to be sure)

Enjoy!

Silver in our Lungs

Chapter 1:

Freedom of will was a state an angel was never supposed to reach. A decision made to serve only themselves should be as alien to them as the taste of cheap soda on their tongues and the sensation of fear jolting through their belly.

Castiel had become very much acquainted with the latter in the past few days.

Currently, Castiel's Grace was huddled in the body of a dishevelled looking man. It was the empty shell of twenty-two year old Jimmy Novak, who had lost everything in a fatal car accident and whose soul joined his family by choice soon after Castiel asked for entry.

It had been almost too easy an escape and Castiel was left with a sense of paranoia.

Because, while he had been meant to find the Righteous Man once, Heaven had since changed. Madness had begun to claw its way into every nook and cranny, infesting the most ancient of angels with its miasma. Heaven had turned into a battlefield and it was only a matter of time before the human world would be pulled right into it.

The Righteous Man was meant to bring an end to the waging war. However, now that said man's presence had become a liability, Castiel's orders were withdrawn. Because where a war was wanted, a bringer of peace was the enemy.

Wrapping his too thin arms around his middle, Castiel tucked both legs close to his torso. It was an unnecessary action, as an angel, the cold did not affect him. But the exhaustion his descent to Earth had brought upon him coupled with the burden he carried inside sipping away at his Grace seemed to awaken instincts he should not possess. He would need to find a safe place soon, otherwise both of the promises he had made would be broken.

Eyes latching onto the streetlamp standing a few feet further down the sidewalk, Castiel allowed his chin to rest upon his knees. The sparse light illuminated the wet asphalt, chasing bright reflections across the puddles with every flicker.

Mesmerized, Castiel noticed too late the car parking close by. When a pair of heavy boots disturbed his field of vision, Castiel forced himself to look up. A tall man, broad shouldered and shorthaired, stood before him. The stranger's face was cast in shadows and Castiel frowned. A moment later, Castiel relaxed upon realising that the man before him was human and thus, not a threat.

For now.

"Can I help you?" Castiel asked.

The man snorted and crouched, revealing a symmetrical face. "That's what I was gonna ask you, buddy. You've been sitting here since I first drove by this morning and you haven't moved an inch."

"I do not require help." Castiel tilted his head, the slumbering core of his Grace sparking softly, reacting to the man in a way Castiel could not explain. "Thank you for asking, however. I will continue my journey once I have rested sufficiently."

The man shook his head, rain sluicing down his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose. "Are you drunk, man? Or do you always sound like a freaking Vulcan?"

"No." Castiel blinked. "…I do not understand your second question."

"Doesn't matter. Listen, since you've been sitting here all day I wanted to ask… have you noticed anything weird?" the man's arm flailed outwards, Castiel followed the motion without thought. "People dancing for no reason, maybe?"

Castiel returned his gaze to the stranger's face. "You mean to ask me about the Deer Woman, is that right? You will need to act quickly, if you wish to safe those she has enthralled with her dancing. Otherwise, they will follow her to her lair and end up as her next meal."

The man froze, eyes narrowing. "How do you know that? Who are you?"

"My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the lord," Castiel answered.

"Bullshit." The man's eyebrows moved downwards, adding another layer to the shade hiding the colour of his eyes. "Why would an angel just sit around on the sidewalk? You guys haven't been in contact with humankind for over thirty years now!"

Castiel blinked. "That is not true. We simply chose not to reveal ourselves in the manner we once might have done. Humankind has become… less receptive to the things they cannot explain."

The man gave a rough chuckle. "Alright, then, featherhead. Why're you here? I doubt it's to warn this little town about the Deer Woman."

"I am here to find a safe place so I may keep a promise to someone close to me. After that, I will need to continue and try to find the one who may stop the growing discord in Heaven," Castiel watched the man wipe the rain from his face.

It was a futile attempt, seeing as the drops of water were quickly replaced. "Discord in Heaven… isn't that kind of impossible? I mean, it's Heaven. Isn't Heaven supposed to be peaceful and shit?"

"Heaven is not perfect," Castiel's gaze dropped to the wet material of his trousers, stretched taut across the bent of his knee. "But you are right. It is meant to be peaceful."

The man shook his head and pulled a phone from the pocket hidden in the sodden leather of his jacket. The gadget was less advanced than Castiel had seen among the humans passing by his resting place. The device was pressed to the man's ear a second later, "Sam? It's Dean, listen. The thing responsible for the dancing? It's a Deer Woman. Are you and Charlie- okay. Yeah. You'll need to take care of the lady yourself, I've got a bit of a situation here. No, it's not dangerous. I'm sure. Yeah. Great. You sure you can manage- yeah. See you in a while. Take care."

The phone vanished back into the confines of the man's jacket. "Come on, get up."

"I do not understand." Castiel moved to stand either way, his response to an order being to follow it, still.

"You said you needed a safe place, right?" the man gestured towards the black car standing by the curb, his other hand pulling a small knife from his pocket. "Give me your arm."

Castiel obeyed and frowned when the man pushed his sleeve upwards to slice the pale skin of Castiel's inner arm. A moment later, the man poured water from a tiny vial over Castiel's hand, then pulled out a flask and repeated the process before rubbing salt over Castiel's knuckles.

Nothing happened. The man gave a sharp nod. "Alright. Get in the car, I'm taking you to the bunker. If you're really an angel, you can prove it once we're there. I'm cold and I could use a hot shower."

Castiel peered at the wound, the rain water diluting the bright red blood seeping from the gash. Tugging his Grace towards the surface, Castiel willed the wound shut, the bright blue of his true form shining through the damaged flesh before fading once more when the healing was done with.

"…Huh. Guess you really are something. Not sure if it's an angel, yet, though." The man began to walk, unlocking the large car and sliding in behind the wheel.

It was only when the car gave a loud honk that Castiel moved to climb in on the passenger side. The inside of the car smelled of wet leather, burnt herbs and gunpowder. The stranger started the car and it came to life with a loud growl as the headlights cut through the veil of raindrops.

"Sorry about this, but it's necessary."

Castiel did not move as the man reached for him, a dark red scarf clutched in one hand. The cloth was tied around his head, rough fingers tugging it into place then falling away, leaving Castiel to stare into darkness.

The man seemed quite certain of his own ability to defend himself, should Castiel prove hostile. It was an odd situation and the man's self-assured attitude forced Castiel into compliant silence.

Castiel clutched the seat involuntarily when the vehicle began to move. He had flown so many miles, faster than any creature on Earth could ever wish to move. Yet, the short distance they travelled in the car seemed to topple Castiel's immaculate sense of balance, the lack of sight adding to the discomfort.

When the blindfold was finally removed, Castiel was shocked at how much safer he felt now that he was able to see once more. The man stepped away, dropping the scarf onto a large table made from polished wood. Allowing his eyes to roam about the room he had been lead into, Castiel noted the blanket folded over the side of a sofa and the abandoned cup of tea cooling at the edge of the table. And first and foremost; wherever it was that the man had taken him, it felt safe.

"Is this your home?" Castiel asked, tilting his head.

"Basically, yeah." The man cleared his throat. "So, you didn't set off any of the traps or protection sigils. You're not a demon and you're not a skin walker. You said you're an angel, but can you prove it?"

Unwilling to test the man's patience, Castiel allowed the small amount of Grace he could spare to seep from his pores. Turning the light and air behind him into the barely there image of large, feathered wings, Castiel met the man's eyes. They were widened in shock and so green, Castiel was reminded of the lush rainforests down in South America. His Grace shook with exhaustion, chasing a ripple through his very being and Castiel felt his wings fade from sight.

"Okay," the man nodded, running a broad hand over his face. "Okay, an angel, then. Sam's gonna love this…"

"Who is Sam?" Castiel asked.

"My brother." The man huffed, peeling the leather jacket off his shoulders.

"And who are you? You have not given me a name to call you by. I do not know who you are or why you asked me to come with you."

"Name's Dean. I brought you here because I'm not letting a potentially dangerous creature run around unattended in the middle of an innocent little town." The man, Dean, discarded his wet boots and gestured for Castiel to do the same. "Come on, you need a shower, too. Or can you… I don't know, angel mojo yourself dry or something?"

"Angel… mojo?"

"…I'm guessing that's a 'no'. Get out of those shoes and follow me, Sam'll kill me if I let an angel get pneumonia."

"Angels do not get sick. We are not human," Castiel said as he complied, removing his shoes and the soaked trench coat clinging to his shoulders.

A sharp edged blade seemed to twist itself into Castiel's core as he straightened up once again. Brows furrowing at the unfamiliar sensation, Castiel felt his vessel bend forward and raised both hands to press them against his navel. His knees began to tremble and Castiel was forced to shift one arm to catch himself on the corner of the table.

"Wow," Dean moved, hands coming to rest on Castiel's back and shoulder. "What now? You okay?"

Castiel was unable to answer, the contact of another living being suddenly too overwhelming to bear. The world tilted, twisted and finally began to turn grey at the edges of his limited, human vision. A second after his vessel's eyes shut, his inner eyes failed him.

After that, he knew no more.

He regained awareness what seemed like an eternity later. His Grace had replenished itself somewhat and Castiel noted that it had further nestled into the crevices of Jimmy's body, strengthening the connection between them. Whether this was to be welcomed or not, Castiel was not quite certain of.

His cargo was still safe, pulsating with life. Good.

"-telling you, Sammy, I didn't do shit. He just keeled over!"

"He's an angel, Dean, he shouldn't be affected by illness or any kind of wound. Except those inflicted by an angel blade. And don't call me Sammy!"

"Yeah, well, maybe we don't know as much about angels as we thought we do, Sam."

A loud, exasperated sigh was the answer.

Castiel willed his eyes to open, blinking into the dimness surrounding him. His body rested on a couch and there was a blanket tucked haphazardly around him. Pushing himself into a sitting position, Castiel turned his head to look towards the origin of the voices.

Two men were standing by the large bookshelf on the left. One of them was Dean, freshly showered and dressed in comfortable looking clothes. The other was someone Castiel had never seen before, but knew must be Dean's brother, Sam. It was a little comical to see, since Sam was even taller than Dean and right now they both reminded Castiel of a pair of small children pouting.

"I am neither ill, nor injured," Castiel spoke up, hoping to dissolve the tension between the two brothers.

Sam jumped and Dean turned to face him. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Featherhead. Care to explain what the hell happened, then?"

"I am not sure. However, I believe it is to do with the fact that I am helping a friend, Samandriel, to become human." Castiel brushed a hand over the almost dry fabric of his shirt, noting the dirt stains on the hems of his sleeves. "Moving must have aggravated the depleted state of my Grace, which is why I… lost consciousness."

"Huh. So, if you're helping your friend, where is he?" Dean asked.

"He-"

"Wait, 'become human'?" Sam exclaimed, "How-?"

"Samandriel wished to escape Heaven's current state and we both have… lost our willingness to follow orders meant to cause harm. I was asked to help him reach Earth undetected once his Grace had become a new-born soul. I promised to protect him," Castiel glanced at Sam. "I do not know how one goes about becoming human. Samandriel is one of the few who consciously made the decision."

"Yeah, great," Dean grouched, "I'll ask again; where is this Samandriel person?"

Castiel hesitated, then decided to offer a half-truth. "He is not here, yet."

Dean raised an eyebrow at him, then sighed. "Fine. Alright. Listen, does the debacle happening in Heaven have anything to do with the fact that we're currently being flooded with calls from all over talking about people vanishing and sightings of supernatural beings?"

A frown wrinkled Castiel's forehead. "It might be responsible, yes. The equilibrium has been shifted and is thus unstable. I apologise."

"Not your fault. I hope so, at least."

"It is not."

"Good," Dean sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. "You can stay here. But if you pull any kind of stupid shit, like smiting someone, I'll banish you without even thinking about it twice, got it?"

"Dean is that-"

"Hey." Dean snapped. "You got to keep your little pet demon until she decided to head back downstairs without me nagging you. If we managed to keep a demon from murdering a bunch of people for fun, I'm sure we can deal with an angel. Now shut your cakehole and show Featherhead over there were the shower is. I'm gonna start making dinner."

With that, Dean left the room. Sam fidgeted for a moment, then met Castiel's gaze. He looked young, younger than even Jimmy's vessel. "Sorry about that."

"It is alright," Castiel stood from the couch, a lot more careful than he would have done before the incident. "May I ask… how long have I been here?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, about two hours?" Sam waved his hand through the air in a vague gesture. "Come on, shower's down the hall."

Castiel followed the tall man until they stopped in front of a nondescript door. Sam pushed it open, revealing a spacious bathroom. Castiel stepped inside, glancing at the shower, the large bathtub in the corner and the broad mirror above the sink.

"You know how these things work, right?" Sam asked, clearing his throat a moment later in a show of discomfort.

"Yes, I have retained my vessel's memories although he has left to be with his family in Heaven," Castiel answered, unbuttoning the front of his shirt.

"Oh, good. Uhm, I'll put some fresh clothes outside the bathroom door. Towels are in the cupboard under the sink… and... uh, I'll… go now." The door clicked shut behind Sam and Castiel was left to his own devices.

Showering turned out to be a rather pleasant thing to do, once Castiel managed to find a temperature just this side of boiling hot. While he, as an angel, could not feel cold, his true form could be equated with the lethal fire of the sun itself. Castiel was not sure how long he stayed beneath the spray of the shower. However, by the time he was done dressing himself, Dean and Sam were both sitting at the table, eating.

"There you are, Sam thought you might have drowned yourself by accident," Dean quipped.

Castiel tugged the too-large shirt into place and pulled the pair of sweatpants back over his jutting hipbones. "I am quite capable of using a shower."

"Yeah, yeah." Dean waved him off. "Sit down, will you?"

Castiel complied and wondered why he felt compelled to do so once more. Ever since Castiel had turned his back on Heaven's elders the need to obey each and every order had vanished, but with Dean, he did not feel the usual compulsion. It was like his Grace wanted to desperately prove itself to Dean, overriding Castiel's mind with almost childlike enthusiasm whenever the man asked something of him.

"You want some, too?" Dean gestured at the pot in the middle of the table, filled with a steaming, reddish liquid. "It's tomato soup."

"No, thank you. Angels do not require food," Castiel answered. "There is, however, something I wanted to ask you."

"Shoot."

Castiel blinked in confusion. "…Why would I shoot at you?"

"Figure of speech, Featherhead, it means 'go on'."

"Ah," Castiel nodded. "Very well. I wanted to inquire if you two are Hunters."

"Part time," Dean answered, sipping at the spoonful of soup in his hand. "We're Men of Letters first."

"Dean!" Sam set the spoon back into his bowl. "You know we're not supposed-"

"Chill, Sammy. Who's he gonna tell? I blindfolded him, he doesn't even know where the hell he is."

"Still-"

Castiel huffed. "I will not betray your trust. I need a safe place and it would be foolish of me to endanger those who are providing me with one. And Dean is right. There is no one I know who would have need of this information. The last time the angels contacted the Men of Letters was almost twenty-five years ago, I believe, and no one remembers why anymore since the angel who ventured down never returned."

"See?" Dean said, shrugging. "And if he betrays us, we'll just lock him in the cellar. We've dealt with a lot of other shit already, Sam."

"Since when are you so calm about these things, Dean?" Sam asked, dropping a piece of dark bread into his soup.

"Since I realised that most of the things we hunt are actually scared of us," Dean smirked.

"Which is why you refused to let me come along when you and Benny took down that Vampire nest two months ago," Sam reached up to push his hair away from his forehead.

"Shut up, Sam."

"Dean-"

"Sam. I trusted you when you dragged that demon lady in here. Now shut your mouth and eat."

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!