A/N:This is a supernatural fic in a How to Train Your Dragon AU. But How to Train Your Angel was a crappy title. So I picked an amazing Led Zeppelin song title instead. Basically this fic mashes up Supernatural themes and characters in a Viking world with a little Norse Mythology, a little Old Testament mythology, and a crap-load of out of the time period terminology. Because I'm a big fan of that.

Dean slowly crept closer to the edge of the large, moss-covered rock that shielded his body from sight from the valley below. He peered down to the small lake searching for the dark shape he knew was there somewhere.

There. A large pair of pitch black wings, spread across the bright green grass. They shivered slightly, moving just enough to reveal a small amount of golden skin, confirming what the wings were attached to.

An angel.

Throughout his life Dean had seen thousands of angels, but never this close. And especially not an angel with black wings. His village was constantly battling the winged monsters. He had watched his father and the other hunters of the village like Bobby and Rufus fight and kill the angels that constantly tried to kill any man, woman or child that got in their way.

Dean was expected to begin training soon. Then he would join the battle as well. Then his brother Sam. Then his children and their children and so on in a never ending cycle.

But now Dean had a chance to prove himself a true warrior. He had wounded an angel, he could see the blood dripping from the end of the angel's left wing. All he had to do was kill it, and take the body back to his father. Finally, his father would be proud of him.

And an angel with black wings no less. Rumored to be the offspring of lighting and death itself. Almost invisible when flying at night and could turn entire buildings to ash with one touch.

A movement from the figure crouching by the lake had Dean gasping and ducking back behind the rock. When he chanced another glance, he saw the angel had moved, but was still turned away from him.

The angel was now crouched on his feet, his naked, lithe form tensed like a lion about to pounce on his prey.

No that wasn't right. It wasn't like a lion. More like a bird. Dean gasped again when he realized what was happening.

The angel leapt into the air, flapping his enormous wings a few times before falling back to the ground. He could hear the angel's grunt of pain.

Dean released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. This was it. The time was now.

Dean readjusted the grip on his knife, and began to slowly creep closer and closer to where the angel was now curled on the ground.

He knew when the angel sensed him, seeing muscles tense under smooth skin. He watched as the angel turned to face him, his brightly glowing eyes almost blinding Dean with their intensity.

The blond gripped the knife hard enough to hurt his knuckles, raising it above his head, ready to strike. Neither of them were breathing, hearts pounding out of both their chests. And Dean couldn't break away from the angel's stare.

Slowly, he lowered the knife and backed a few steps away from the angel. Dean breathed out a sigh, and turned to head back to his village. He truly was a failure. Even if his dad never said it out loud, Dean had seen the looks, almost glares, directed at him. He was doomed from the start.

Hands reached from nowhere, grabbing his shoulders and spinning him around to slam him into the boulder behind him. He looked into the angel's face, eyes shining even brighter with malice. He could feel the hot pants of breath hitting his face. Terror laced through Dean, stealing his breath and making him sick.

Maybe it was better this way. Now John wouldn't have to know just how horribly Dean had failed. He would just be another tally on the death toll.

But just as Dean accepted his fate, he saw something in the angel's eyes. Hesitation.

Before Dean could puzzle his way through the strange occurrence, he gasped as the angel suddenly flared his wings and let out a terrible screech. Dean covered his ears and groaned in pain, eyes closing of their own accord.

When the screams finally dimmed, Dean looked back up to see the angel attempting, and failing miserably, to fly away.

"Wait!" Dean shouted.

What the hell was he doing? He should be running, getting his ass the Hel out of that valley.

"Wait!" He shouted again.

He gasped when the angel turned back to him, wings still flared but arched back defensively.

Achingly slowly, Dean inched forward, presenting the palm of his hand to the angel, like one might do to a dog. Seriously what the hell am I doing?

The angel yelped and backed up at first, but Dean did his best to whisper soothing nonsense to the angel.

Finally, they were close enough, Dean would only need to stretch less than a foot to touch the angel. He lowered his hand, carefully keeping his palms showing, hoping to keep the angel from feeling danger.

"What's your name?" Dean whispered to the angel.

The brunette figure eyed Dean wearily. For a moment, Dean thought angel would try flying away again, but to his great surprise, the angel relaxed slightly and his eyes changed.

Wait, what?

What were once brightly glowing orbs of blue light were now the biggest and deepest sapphire blue eyes Dean had ever seen.

"Castiel."

Dean jumped hearing the gravelly voice coming from the angel's mouth.

"What?"

"My name is Castiel."

Dean's breath caught in his throat. He wasn't expecting an answer from the angel. He didn't even know angels could talk, let alone that they had names. It wasn't supposed to be an actual question, just gibberish flowing from his mouth.

"M…my name's Dean," Dean managed to stutter.

"Hello, Dean," the angel responded, his pink, chapped lips curling up into a small smile.

Despite his body screaming at him, Dean finally gained enough brain power to turn and run away, like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.