A/N: So this story was inspired by the movie Maleficent. It doesn't follow the movie exactly, but it uses the concept of Maleficent. I just had a huge Destiel AU inspiration when I saw the movie a few months ago and finally got around to writing it. I hope you like it! There's this one song on youtube that would make this really really cool to read to and it's titled "Sad Piano Music- Isolation (Original Composition)" if you want to look it up.

Heads up: Dean doesn't come in until like 2.3k words into the story.

The Tale of Maleficent

Once upon a time, (like every tale starts), there was a boy born different. It was impossible to tell at first; he looked like any other boy born that day, so the mother took him home with a stretchy smile. The boy was named Castiel. Beautiful ebony hair started to fall from his head in the years that followed, and he smiled and laughed like the sun. When he was four years of age, that was when his mother noticed his defects. From the top of his head sprouted two small nubs and his shoulder blades looked larger than they should be. Castiel's mother ignored it, for there were boys born with strange, large noses or warts, and how should this be any different?

The boy was the moon at night and held the eyes of the ocean. Every other person in the town had murky, grey eyes. Castiel's mother held him close to her chest and told him he was the spirit of the moon and that he was special despite the shouts of names he was called on the street. Castiel's horns grew taller and from his back came beautiful feathers the same color as his hair.

The boy had few friends, and by few, the author may mean simply one friend. Castiel spoke to him rarely, this friend named Balthazar, and the friend visited fewer times than often. Still, Castiel laughed daily. His mother was beautiful and she played with him. Castiel's wings fluttered behind his back, not at all large, and shook feathers onto the dirty floor of their home. Castiel loved life, loved the grey sky and the grey grass. Everything was beautiful. The world was shades of grey, black dirt and white stars and a sun, and that was all anyone ever knew, so they would not know true beauty. Perhaps that's why Castiel was seen with such fear. Who knew the color blue of his eyes?

Balthazar told him he was cool. That it was cool he was different, and Castiel responded that Balthazar wasn't much different than he. His heart was pure and bright. Castiel didn't mention that it dimmed darker each time he visited, like something was happening to him outside the door of Castiel's home. Mother told him it was dangerous out there, and he best stay inside. Castiel listened. He cooked, cleaned.

"Can I touch them?" Balthazar asked Castiel when they sat cross-legged next to each other, playing a game of checkers.

"Touch what?" Castiel's voice was light and airy. He was twelve years old.

Balthazar responded by reaching out and brushing his the back of his hand across Castiel's wings. Castiel tilted his head, the curls of his hair falling to the side. He watched curiosity and wonder cascade from Balthazar's eyes like a waterfall, and for a moment Balthazar's heart looked brighter. It had dimmed again by the time Balthazar visited again the next week.

Castiel was playing behind his and his mother's house one day when she came looking for him.

"Castiel! Castiel, where are-" she cut herself off when she saw him playing in the dirt and grass. "You gave me such a fright, I told you not to leave the house!"

"Mother, look!" Castiel held up a handful of dirt and grass, hues of green and brown, not grey like the area just a foot away from where he sat.

"Put that down!" she shouted hastily. The light in Castiel's eyes flickered and he dropped the dirt through his fingers. It fell dull. "Get back inside."

Castiel hung his head and stood, brushed off his trousers and hurried back inside. His mother looked shaken up and frightened, not that he could understand why. He hid under his bed, smiling as he stared at a single blade of green grass he kept from his pocket. He hid it under his mattress when his mother called him for dinner.

The next time Balthazar visited, Castiel grabbed his wrist and dragged him out the back door.

"Look! Look! It has to be quick so mother doesn't shout, but look!"

Balthazar looked at Castiel like he was crazy as he bent down and grabbed a handful of dirt and grass and fallen twigs. He turned around and Balthazar's eyes widened, heartbeat spiking, (Castiel noticed with elation), he neared Castiel slowly, gazing down at the colored grass and dirt.

A hush fell over them and Castiel dropped it and ran back inside, grabbing Balthazar on the way. Balthazar stumbled after him. Castiel's eyes were wide in innocent excitement and he and Balthazar ran into Castiel's room.

"C-Castiel, what was that? What did you do?"

"I don't know! Wasn't it so pretty, though?" Castiel sputtered, voice climbing a mountain.

Balthazar shook, frightened like Castiel's mother. "It was witchcraft, Castiel."

Balthazar didn't visit Castiel as often after that. Castiel sat, sixteen years old, by his window. He gazed out at the window wistfully. Mother started locking the back door a year ago when she caught him outside again. She said that word again- witchcraft- then hit the back of his head reprimandingly. Castiel's wings shook behind his back and Castiel didn't miss how his mother now gazed at his horns or his wings instead of his eyes. And if she did look at his eyes, it wasn't at him. Just the color. The blue.

Balthazar visited again, and he looked just like every other boy that played on the streets. His heart was no longer special. Still, Castiel treated him no different. Castiel's wings had grown wider and brighter, and Balthazar stared at them obviously.

"Can you fly?" he asked. Castiel missed the music his voice used to play. Balthazar moved his hands in some weird motion. "Like birds. Can you?"

Castiel shrugged. "I've never tried. I don't think so."

"Want to?"

"Want to what?"
"Fly?"

A break of hush fell down on Castiel. He felt short of breath for a moment, and then he answered, "Yes," he whispered. "I really really want to fly."
Balthazar held his arm and stood, pulling him to the door.

"Balthazar- Stop!- Mother locked the back door!" Castiel whispered loudly.

Still, Balthazar pulled on the door. He huffed before turning around. "Well, where's the key?"

"What?"

"The key to the door, stupid."

"I couldn't- Mother locked it! That means she doesn't want me to go out!"

"So? I want to go outside with you and see if you can fly. Where's the key?"

Heart thrumming in his chest, pulling the chords like some demon, Castiel stuttered out, "T-The drawer in the kitchen."

Castiel was left in front of the door as Balthazar disappeared behind the corner that led to the kitchen. He felt cold, white, betrayal clutch him. Mother would not want him doing this. Just because he could doesn't mean that he should. His hands shook at his sides and he opened his mouth to shout for Balthazar to come back only to see he was already nearing him with a rusted metal key in his hand.

"Mother says I shouldn't-"

Balthazar pushed the key into the door and turned it, opening door and stepping out.

"Well?" he said, beckoning with a hand.

"I-"

"Come on!"

Castiel took his first step on the dirt, a dark, disgusting feeling settling at the pit of his stomach like a rock in water. He licked his lips nervously and Balthazar closed the door again. A small smile spread over Balthazar's lips, a smile Castiel thought he'd never see again. His eyes dared him to beat his wings.

So he did.

His feathers rustled and the wings beat once, twice, stirring up dirt under him and he sprung up from the ground. He flew up into the air, staring wide-eyed back down at Balthazar, seeing the feeling of shock was reciprocated. Shock turned to wonder and amazement, pure and utter elation and ecstasy as Castiel slung his head back and laughed and he flew up higher. He beat his wings, feeling like he could touch the sky, and perhaps he did. He had never felt so free.

It was beautiful that the grey sky looked so much like blue when he was so high up. Like Castiel was a drop of food coloring in white cake mix and his wings were stirring it up. He forgot himself. He forgot everything. He felt so alive. Castiel flew so high he couldn't see the ground. He felt the clouds between his fingers, feeling cold and wet and airy. He flew through the gates of Heaven it seemed like, and he could have been an angel.

He took a deep breath and his wings stilled. It was like breathing. Flying came so easily to him. He started to fall and he glided slowly back down to the ground and touched the grass. It turned a sparking, beautiful hue of green. He had never smiled so brightly as he turned around. Balthazar looked scared. So frightened, like Castiel was some monster. Hadn't he been the one that just convinced Castiel to fly?

"What?" Castiel laughed. "That was… Amazing," and his voice was breathless.

Balthazar stumbled away from him and ran away until Castiel could no longer see him.

"Castiel!" his mother screamed at him, "How could you? How could you go outside? I told you not to do so!" why were there tears?

"I… I just…"

Castiel's mother locked the door again and did the same to the front door. She drew the was shouting and screaming and words flying like bats.

"Everyone saw! Everyone!" his mother drew him into his arms. She was still crying. Castiel didn't understand, nor did he understand when the king made a declaration the next day that the evil creature with wings that bled magic into the sky and turned grey to blue, that he should be captured and killed.

They called him Maleficent. They named him after the word malefic, meaning to do harm or evil. Castiel cried into his arms, pulling out a fistful of his feathers. His mother looked so tired, and she hid him away under the floorboards whenever knights of the palace did their nightly search. He hated himself for being born evil, and he hated what it did to his mother. Castiel bled red onto the floor with each feather he pulled. He hated them.

Though, this is how it started, Castiel realized his self-loathing was pointless.

"You're beautiful how you are," his mother whispered into his hair as she kissed his forehead, and he believed her. The search for the beast started two months ago, and Castiel picked his heart up from the ground and sewed it back into his body. He groomed his wings. He loved them. He loved himself as he loved his mother, or so he tried to say. He still felt days where he wanted to walk out the front door, wings high behind his back and submit as the sword was driven through his heart. He wasn't worth the effort his mother exerted on him.

Still, she did. His mother carried on, his mother did so much for him, so he forced himself to try harder. He forced himself not to pull the feathers from his wings. He forced himself to love himself as he did his mother. He sewed the corners of his lips higher. That was until the day, three months later, that Balthazar came back.

Castiel stood in stunned silence as Balthazar walked in.

He threw himself into Balthazar's arms.

"You're not afraid of me?" he said, voice shaking like the earth during an earthquake.

But he could feel Balthazar's hands trembling as they returned the embrace. "No," he lied. Castiel could tell, but he kept to himself.

They sat together on the sofa as they used to. Balthazar was reading a book when Castiel fell asleep on his shoulder. He wouldn't admit how much he missed having a friend. He felt loneliness like rain.

He woke to a searing pain and an absent weight in his left shoulder blade.

He screamed.

Balthazar shot away from him like he burned. His hands were red. Red. The sight of color terrified Balthazar more and he shook his hands away from his body and ran from the house. His mother came to him, aghast.

"My baby!" she cried and held him in her arms. "My child, my poor child, Castiel."

Castiel sobbed into her shoulder, nails digging into her back. He screamed again in pain and betrayal, blood falling down his back. His right wing quivered, shaking, disoriented. Its lover had been cut and killed.

Knocking cut through the house. Knights announced themselves and said they heard screaming. They asked for someone to open the door, and when no one did, the door was kicked down. Frozen in fear and shock, though they soon overcame that, the knights charged forward.

Castiel realized: they would surely kill his mother, too.

And so Castiel pushed her to the ground, crying and shaking like a child. He lifted a quivering fist and punched her face. He swallowed in fear and cried harder. He whispered urgently, "I attacked you here," and a tear fell onto her bloodied nose. "You cut off my wing," he hit her again.

Castiel did not turn around. He ran like lightning to the back door and burst through it, and he did not stop running. He heard shouting and screams behind him, and feet thundering after him. Horses whinnied and he heard them galloping. Castiel threw his arms up in the air, drawing the trees together behind him as wall. The knights and townsfolk stopped at the barricade, and Castiel heard them scream his name just before he ran far enough so he couldn't hear them. See them.

Though it wasn't really his name.

They screamed, "MALEFICENT!"

Castiel stopped by a lake. He fell to his knees, hands buried in the grey dirt and he screamed. No one heard him. He cried. No one heard him. He slept. No one saw him.

It took time to adjust to being alone. Castiel wept until he no longer found the point. His eyes were dull, they were grey with the slightest hint of blue. No one noticed. His lips wore weights and he bathed himself for hours at a time. It gave him something to do. There were stones in the lake, and a stream ran from the center and around like a spiral. It was very beautiful. There were little fish, and Castiel found he didn't need to eat. He didn't feel the pains of hunger like everyone else talked about, and only ate because his mother placed a bowl in front of him. He slept in the grass under a large tree.

Ever so slowly, Castiel became used to the idea of being alone, and sometimes welcomed it. He tore his peasant rags from his body and dove into the lake. The odd absence of weight of his wing was gone there. It felt like flying. He swam past fish and felt a crack in his face where he smiled. He surfaced and grinned. He felt alive again. He dove back down and opened his eyes underwater. The water sparkled a beautiful ocean blue. His feet touched the brown, muddy bottom and he touched a fish as it swam past him.

Castiel wondered how the world could be so beautiful. That day forward, life was a gift. Past the wall of trees that grew taller, greater, grand and mighty, there grass grew green. There the sky ran blue. There the water felt cold, the fish jumped yellow and green and red and orange- the sun set violet and rose.

Castiel spoke to the trees, the water, the fish, the dragonflies, the deer that ventured for a drink. He understood them all. He protected them all. He still had not yet seen another man for three years, and still, he was happy. Roots and vegetables grew along the bay unplanted, as if the earth was giving back to the care Castiel provided. Castiel would feed them to the animals, maybe eat them himself if he felt the desire.

He watched the birds with an absent wish.

Castiel held his hands up and drew trees together, ran the water through the air and sprinkled it onto the thirsty grass. He held the sun in a lasso and drew the light onto beseeching flowers. He fell into blissful sleep in a tree.

He woke one day startled. The lake splashed unnaturally.

There was a man at the bank, splashing water onto his face.

Castiel felt fear grab him and he moved farther into the trees.

"Hello?" the man called. Castiel didn't dare answer. The man shrugged and cupped his hands in the lake, drawing the water to his mouth for a drink. He had green eyes. Beautiful green eyes.

Beside the man lay a bag full of blades and bread. The man stood and stretched, looking around in amazement. Castiel watched from behind the trees. He wandered around, and the squirrels scurried away from him. He bent down and grabbed a radish from the ground and bit into his without much grace. Castiel felt as if under a spell. He held his breath.

The man picked a few more radishes and threw them into his bag and slung it over his shoulder before he disappeared behind the trees. Castiel let out a long breath, coming out from the trees and gazing longingly through the trees that concealed the man. He was truly beautiful. Castiel looked back down and waved a hand over the disrupted dirt where the man had taken the radishes. The animals came back in just like Castiel had.

Castiel spent the rest of the day with the man with green eyes in his mind, whom he now titled Green Eyes. He touched the lake, he felt the tainted water. It wasn't a bad kind of tarnished though.

By nightfall, Castiel heard footsteps and ran to the trees again. Green Eyes showed in the clearing again, running, beautiful eyes wide, and pointing to the trees where Castiel had just ran into.

"I saw you that time!" Green Eyes claimed. "Just before your foot disappeared. Why are you hiding?"

Castiel's heart beat around in his ribcage and he remained silent. Green Eyes continued to stare at the trees and Castiel backed up just a step just in case. Eventually, Green Eyes turned around with a sigh and put his hands into the lake, washing the dirt from them. The ripples danced. Water splashed up onto his face.

Green Eyes rubbed the water from his eyes and looked back at the trees. "If you're not going to show yourself, will you at least speak? It's just creepy knowing someone's watching me but having no connection."

Castiel's chest felt tight, his throat locked up with a lost key.

"What's your name?" Green Eyes shouted as if Castiel wouldn't hear him even if he whispered.

"What's yours?" Castiel's voice sounded choked. He hadn't spoken in five years.

A beautiful smile stretched over Green Eye's face. "Dean. Yours?"

"Castiel."

"Castiel," Dean said, as if testing the name.

"Castiel," he said absently in confirmation.

Dean laughed. Castiel's heart fluttered like the single wing behind his shoulder.

"Why are you hiding?" Dean asked, his voice teasing.

Castiel didn't answer.

"All right," Dean said, turning back to the lake and sticking his feet in.

They didn't talk any more than that. Dean fell asleep under a tree on a bed of grass and Castiel watched him until his eyelids grew too heavy, and even then, he didn't really stop watching him. His dreams were filled of Dean, the beautiful man with green eyes like the leaves of trees.

Castiel woke and Dean was gone. Disappointment settled deep in Castiel's heart, but he learned to ignore it. He came out from the trees and walked into the lake. He walked along the mud, staring up at the surface where sunlight streamed in six meters above him. He swam up to the surface and sat by the bank. Animals came to drink and Castiel watched them with a soft smile.

Footsteps came by noon and Castiel felt his heart jump. He ran to the trees.

"You there?" Dean asked just as he came in from the trees.

Castiel placed a hand over his chest as if it would calm his heart. "Yes."

Dean sat just where Castiel was moments ago. "Do you live out here or something?"

"Yes."

Dean nodded and dug through his bag, taking out a slice of bread and shoving it unceremoniously into his mouth. Castiel wanted to laugh. He really looked ridiculous. They fell under a certain kind of silence; the kind of silence where just being around another person is enough. Neither one of them spoke for a while. Castiel watched Dean yank off his shirt and get into the water.

"Swim with me?" Dean offered.

Castiel didn't answer immediately. "No."

"Can't swim?"

"No."

"Then why not?"

Castiel bit his tongue. "Because."

Dean laughed magnificently. "Because? That's the best you got?"

Castiel felt his cheeks heat up and he was suddenly glad Dean couldn't see him. "Yes."

Dean laughed again, and Castiel wondered why people thought he was magic when Dean looked so much more magical than him when he laughed.

"Castiel."

Castiel waited for Dean to continue, only that he didn't. "What?"

"I just wanted to say your name. Don't get much opportunity. You're not that chatty."

"I don't have much to say."

"I doubt that."

It fell quiet again as Dean swam underwater. Castiel wondered vaguely if Dean had ever been a fish in a past life. He wondered if Dean even believed in past lives. His mother used to say that Castiel was a bluebird in a past life, and his rebirth wasn't clear enough. Dean surfaced and Castiel watched each droplet of water drip from his hair before Dean combed it back with his fingers.

He swam back to the bank and sat down. Castiel wondered what the point of the quick swim was other than to make Castiel further realize just how beautiful Dean was. Castiel realized he did, indeed, have a lot to say. He just didn't want to find his voice. Dean pulled a leg up, resting his chin on one knee for a few minutes before he stood, pulled his shirt back over his soaking chest and grabbed his bag.

"I'll be back tomorrow," Dean told the trees.

Castiel felt excitement run through him like a slap to the face. "Okay," he said breathlessly. He wondered if Dean heard him.

He did. Dean smiled and disappeared behind the trees again.

Dean kept his word. He came back the next day, and the day after that and the day after the week after the month after that. It was strange the kind of bond they shared. Castiel knew the trees he hid in by name better than he knew the blades of grass under Dean's feet. He thought he might miss the lake, the sunlight, because of the hours he spent hiding but he never did. It was like Dean gave all that and more.

They spoke about small nothings, the world, the sky, the heart. Dean had a brother and a father. Castiel said he was alone.

"What happened?" Dean asked tentatively, "You can't always have been alone."

Castiel felt cold. Flashes of the past crept up on him and drove through him like a dagger. He bled onto the tree branches.

"I…" Castiel said softly. Dean had a strong ear. "I don't know. It's complicated."

Dean leaned back, the sunlight caressing his cheekbones. "I've got all day."

Castiel couldn't bring himself to respond. He lived in constant fear that someday Dean would find out of the beast he was and run as Balthazar did. Hurt him as Balthazar did. Cut off his other wing. Kill him as Balthazar did. Castiel couldn't say that he hated what he was, but he hated what it did to people he loved. He had nightmares of his mothers eyes when Castiel had struck her.

"My mom died in a fire," Dean admitted during Castiel's silence.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said.

Dean shrugged, though his face remained stony. "It's not your fault. The beast did it. Maleficent."

Castiel never knew pain until he heard the hatred drip from Dean's lips at the mention of who he was. A knife ripped through his heart.

"What?" he asked breathlessly.

Dean looked over at the trees that concealed Castiel. "Maleficent. You know, the stories."

"I don't know."

"You've never heard the stories?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"No," Castiel was glad his voice didn't shake.

"Maleficent is a beast with wings and horns like the devil," Dean said, "He brings evil into the world and preys on the innocent. He had dark magic, and he burned my house down. My mom didn't get out. The stories say that one day Maleficent tried to torture and kill an innocent woman but she fought back and cut off one of his wings. Maleficent stole her child and ran away."

Castiel felt as if he was choked. He couldn't breathe.

"And Maleficent, he's… evil?" Castiel thought he said it bitterly, but he couldn't help it.

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"This is just like a story parents tell their children at night to try to make them behave? Be good or Maleficent will get you?"

Dean looked taken aback. "Hey, man, it's just a story. Like people blame God for the good that happens to them, they blame Maleficent for the bad. He's not real."

Castiel clenched his teeth, it felt like he was bleeding all over. He broke off tree branches and threw them down at Dean, overcome with pain and fear and anger.

"Leave!" he shouted.

Dean used his arms to block the branches as they hit him. "Hey! What the hell?! What'd I do?"

"Go away! Leave!" Castiel couldn't stop his voice from shaking. Everything was always taken away from him. He wondered… Dear, anyone who would listen, he wondered what he had done to deserve this curse.

Dean left.

Castiel came out from the trees and threw his arms in the air. The trees around him grew taller, wider, thicker like a wall. Castiel collapsed and allowed himself to cry for the first time in six years. It felt like everything broke through like a hurricane. He wanted nothing more than to walk into the lake and never walk back out. He contemplated this.

Crying solved nothing, but it made him feel cleaner. Like sadness poured from him and was wrung out of him like a used rag. He was left a shell, feeling empty, lying on his side, legs stretched out and hair falling over his face. He was pale. His ebony wing lay quivering and shaking on ground. Castiel wondered if he could die of loneliness, of heartbreak.

Dean didn't know. He was just saying what he'd heard. Castiel was a horror story. That's what Dean knew, believed, and it's what the rest of the world believed, too. Dean shouldn't be blamed.

So why did it hurt so badly?

Castiel lay emotionless now, unblinking. The trees around him shrunk back down to how they were comfortable and Castiel looked up at the sun. His eyes fluttered shut again and he welcomed sleep as it washed over him. Falling asleep so distraught like this, it felt so far away. It felt like he was sixteen again, running from his mother's home.

He wondered if she was scared of him, too.

Dean came back two days later and Castiel ran to the trees. Dean's lips were open and he was about to speak, but Castiel rushed in, "I'm sorry for telling you to leave."

Dean blinked, mouth closing and opening again. "Nah, it's all right," he shrugged. "My dad always said religious was a touchy topic."

It was insane how easily they fell back into their regular routine. Castiel was ever grateful. He would never get tired of hearing Dean's voice, and he would never forgive himself if he did anything to make Dean leave forever.

"Can I see you?" Dean asked. This was the third time.

"No," Castiel responded, the same as the other times.
"Why can't I?" Dean demanded. "We've known each other a year and a half. You see me every day and I have no idea what you look like."

Castiel didn't respond.

"You could be a talking squirrel for all I know," Dean said after a few minutes.

"You're right. I'm actually a talking squirrel."

"Shut up! I'm serious. Why can't I see you?"

Castiel rustled around in the tree. "You just can't."

"Are you ugly or something? Come on man, I don't judge. This is a little extreme."

Castiel laughed. "I think I'm beautiful," he admitted.

"Now you're just being a tease. Come on, just come out of there."

Dean started walking towards the trees and Castiel panicked.

"Stop!" he shouted and Dean froze, probably from shock that Castiel had yelled. "Don't," he pled.

Dean looked down and slowly backed up.

"Why not?" he asked softly.

Castiel looked at Dean wistfully. "Because you won't think I'm beautiful."

Castiel held his knees close to his chest, watching a bird fly from the top of the tree. He knew if Dean hated him, if he said something insulting, Castiel would never find himself beautiful anymore. He didn't want Dean to run. He didn't want his own heart to be shredded like the paper is was. He didn't want anything to change. He was content.

Dean didn't any anything else on the matter. He still asked every other day or so if he could see him, but didn't press Castiel when he denied him. Dean splashed the water with his foot and looked longingly at the trees. His eyes were so bright. Castiel had the urge to touch Dean, though he knew it was forbidden. His own hand could never graze Dean's cheek.

"How long have you been alone?" Dean asked him one day.

Castiel was putting leaves together in a crown. "Nine years. I was sixteen when I first came here."

Dean cracked a smile. "So you weren't just born of the river. You had an actual life. See, I find that hard to imagine."

"I find it hard imagining you outside these trees, too," Castiel admitted.

"I find it hard to imagine anything about you," Dean said accusingly. He started making small jabs as if it would coax Castiel out of hiding.

Castiel was quiet. "I have black hair," he said suddenly. "It's kind of curly. Pale skin."

A soft expression fell over Dean's face. "Eyes?"

"Blue."

Dean smiled.

"I like blue."

Castiel felt his heart stutter and flutter on wings it was never given. He felt a blush crawling over his cheeks and hid his face in his knees. He didn't know why. Dean couldn't see him. Dean seemed in a daze until Castiel hopped a few trees over, a pale hand showing itself as he threw the crown he was making to Dean. It was a horrible toss. It landed no where near him.

Dean was up on his feet in an instant, running over and picking it up. "I saw your hand," Dean beamed. "Why can I see the rest of you?"

Castiel retreated a few trees back. "No," he said softly.

"What do you think I'm going to do?"

Castiel never responded. Dean drank silence like wine these days. He put the crown of leaves atop his head and saluted jestingly to the trees.

"Thanks," he said. "See you tomorrow. Bye, Cas."

"Bye Dean."

Castiel was bathing in the lake in the hours before Dean came. He lay on his back in the water, floating and gazing up at the sky. He could hardly remember when it used to be grey. He wondered if it still was on the other side of the wall. He wondered if the wall was even there.

It was getting late, and Dean still hadn't come. Castiel was disappointed, but supposed he couldn't expect Dean to come every day. Still, this didn't stop him from trying to listen for footsteps. Castiel closed his eyes, his wing below the water. It was cleansing.

Castiel was still in the water by the time the sun set.

He heard Dean yell, "I see you!"

Castiel's eyes shot open and he hid underwater, heart thundering in his chest. It was dark, the sun peeking from above the horizon just enough to see Dean's face. Castiel surfaced, hair dripping in front of his eyes. He couldn't help feeling betrayed. How had he not heard Dean approach?

"Why the hell were you always hiding?"

Castiel felt short on breath. His fingers twitched at his sides. He yearned to run to the trees. "I don't know," he said lamely.

"Will you at least come out of there. Damn, I finally see your face and you're still trying to hide."

Castiel didn't understand. The top of his wing was above water, why wasn't Dean saying anything. He had horns coming from the top of his head, and yet Dean didn't mention them. Castiel rose out of the water shyly and sat beside Dean. He could hardly see his face in the darkness, but he could tell Dean was staring unblinkingly at Castiel's face, as if he were to blink and Castiel would run to the trees again.

Dean reached a hand out and touched Castiel's cheek. Castiel leaned into his palm. It was so warm. Castiel hadn't touched anyone for years. Hadn't been touched. Castiel laid a hand atop Dean's, as if he were afraid Dean would pull it away soon. He closed his eyes. He felt like he was dreaming.

He felt a soft pressure on his lips. Castiel had touched clouds before, and still he had never felt as high as he did now. It was melodic, beautiful, everything Castiel could have hoped. Dean's thumb traced his jaw and Castiel felt electricity spike through his body. He'd never felt so alive.

"Fall asleep with me," Dean murmured against Castiel's lips and Castiel couldn't deny him anything anymore. He nodded, afraid to speak and ruin everything. He always tended to ruin things. "You'll be here when I wake up? You won't run to those damn trees?"

"I'll be here," Castiel promised.

Castiel didn't know how long it was until Dean was curled into Castiel's left side. Castiel's right wing covered both of them like a blanket.

Castiel woke when Dean jolted away from him. Castiel's eyes fluttered open and he gazed at Dean sleepily, confused.

"Dean?"
"Y-You- You're- Fuck! What the fuck!"

"What?" Castiel sat up, confused, concerned.

Dean stepped back again, eyes wide. He was scared. He was scared just like everyone else. Castiel wanted to shout, Kill me. It would have been kinder. It made sense. Castiel understood now.

Dean hadn't said anything about his wing or horns because it had been too dark to see them.

"Dean-"

"You're Maleficent!"

Castiel's face broke. His heart fell from his chest in pieces. He felt his eyes burning. "That's not my name," he said brokenly. His voice was shattered. His throat closed up. He ruined everything. He ruined everything by being what he was, and just like he predicted, he couldn't handle Dean's rejection.

"You- You've killed people," Dean accused in disbelief. "You burned-"

"No, I didn't!" Castiel yelled and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He didn't want to cry. "I haven't! I'm not evil," Castiel gasped, crying, "I'm not evil," he repeated.

"That's why you-" realization overcame Dean's features. "That's why you were so upset when I mentioned Maleficent."

Castiel didn't respond. It was obvious.

"Hey," Dean said softly. "I'm sorry. I was just freaked out."

Castiel was still crying into his hands.

"Don't cry," Dean whispered and crawled closer. He wasn't afraid. Why wasn't he afraid? "Really. I'm sorry," he huffed a humorless laugh. "I know why you didn't come out now."

Castiel looked up at him.

"I think you lied about your eye color," Dean joked, "They're kinda red right now."

Castiel looked back down. They fell under another kind of silence. Castiel could tell Dean had questions, a lot of them, but he held his tongue. Castiel took the moment to breathe. Dean sat in front of him, looking into his eyes, not at them, not at his horns or his wing, at him.

"I've heard every story about Maleficent," Dean said eventually, "What about yours?"

Castiel's eyes flickered up at him. "The boy that was stolen from the woman is me," he said softly after a while. "I wasn't stolen, I ran."

Dean looked at him sincerely.

Why was he sincere?

"Why did you run?"