It's time for Writing Prompt Wednesday! This story is from the theme for two weeks ago - I'm just a wee bit behind - mostly because, well, this story is 20k long! Anyway, the theme was "Wing Kink AUs."
What is Writing Prompt Wednesday?
Writing Prompt Wednesday is a feature I run on my Tumblr. Followers, readers and friends suggest themes for AUs, and I come up with a list of prompts based on the suggested them. Then, based on those prompts, anyone who wants to join in writes up a short story (or a long story, I guess) and posts it to Tumblr (or AO3, or , or wherever) and tags it Writing Prompt Wednesday!
You can read more about Writing Prompt Wednesday, and read this week's entries, on my Tumblr at unforth-ninawaters.
This week, I chose this prompt:
Everyone has a guardian angel to call their very own, and I can't stop thinking about mine…but getting him/her to talk to me, that's the challenge AU
Sorry this story is so late...but hey, it's really long!
Also...yes, there's some weirdness in this story (ie, Dean has been watching over Castiel since literally the day Cas is born)...I tried to lampshade most of it, so hopefully y'all won't mind it when all is said and done.
Lastly: because I'm behind on this and last week's story, I've decided to take a one week hiatus from WPW. But there will be new prompts next week, promise!
Oh, and from now on I'm going to copy and paste in the tags from AO3, cause I often forget to include comparable warnings on . Skip these if you don't want implied spoilers! :)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester; Alfie/Castiel (Supernatural)
Characters: Castiel; Dean Winchester; Sam Winchester; Naomi (Supernatural); Samandriel (Supernatural); Gabriel (Supernatural); Alastair (Supernatural)
Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting; reverse verse; Twink Castiel; Twink Dean; Top Castiel; Bottom Dean; Angel Dean Winchester; Wing Kink; Intersex Dean; Implied Mpreg; Character Death; Not Really Character Death; Wing Oil; Aphrodisiacs; Marathon Sex; Unrealistic Recovery Time; Voyeurism; Established Gabriel/Sam Winchester
"It's a boy, Mrs. Novak!"
The exhausted woman looked up, pale face streaked with tears and sweat, hair matted down, as the nurses carried in the swaddled, wrinkled, red-skinned infant, head dusty with black hair. The child's tiny face scrunched up as he cried and Dean smiled as he got his first glimpse at his new charge. He'd been watching Naomi Novak since the day the infant she bore gained enough awareness of the world to count as a new life, impatient though he knew he shouldn't be. Human lives passed too quickly. In fifty or seventy or a hundred scant year, that infant would die as an old, doddering man and Dean would return to heaven to wait for a new mortal to steward through the world. Dean hated watching them grow old, hated knowing that he'd watch this newborn die, but that was the way of things. To everything there was a season, turn turn turn. In the meantime, there was a lifetime to come, decades of that promised adventures, failures and successes.
Generation after generation, century after century, millennia upon millennia, Dean had watched his charges from their first breats until their last. This was the cycle of human life, the cycle of Dean's life, and the beginning was one of Dean's favorite parts. Mrs. Novak held the crying baby to her chest and wept with joy and exhaustion and relief. Dean smiled, excited, curious to see what was to come.
Come back, Naomi. Castiel is too young to be left by himself.
Strict rules dictated when Dean was allowed to intervene to protect his human and when he wasn't. Not every mortal had a guardian angel; most didn't, heaven's host was large but humanity outnumbered them vastly. Dean had no idea on what criteria humans were selected for guardianship. Some of the mortals that Dean had stewarded had started as great people, done great things, died great; some had been born to nothing and had become great; others had been born and died in obscurity and even when Dean sought to indulge his curiosity, asking questions, following the paths of the lives they'd touched to see if those they knew had done great things, investigating their descendants, he could find no reason why they had been chosen. It mattered little; the assignments came from the Lord himself and Dean loved all his charges equally, worked equally hard to protect them regardless of what they accomplished.
Little Castiel tottered on his stubby, small feet. He'd learned to walk within the past week and he couldn't be kept down. Wide, bright blue eyes looked at everything around him in wonder, enjoying the new perspective that standing gave him. The sharp edges of the coffee table loomed dangerously close to Castiel's head.
Naomi, why would you leave him alone?
Dean could hear Naomi moving around the kitchen and considered getting her as he watched invisibly and intangibly from the corner of the room. Before he could decide whether he should find a way to lure her back, Castiel over-balanced backwards, skull about to crack on the corner of the table. Reaching out with his grace, Dean easily caught the boy beneath the arms and nudged him upright. Castiel giggled, an adorable sound, and shuffled, running excitedly as best he could, moving towards the nook from which Dean observed. Castiel pitched forward, too new to walking to think to put his hands before him to catch his balance. Dean caught him again, earning more laughter. Judging from the sounds from the kitchen, Naomi either didn't hear or wasn't worried by the noise. Castiel showed no inclination to stop and for the next half hour the boy toddled back and forth across the room, lighting up with delight every time Dean caught him.
When Castiel tired of the game, he tugged a pillow from the couch, tossed it on the floor, curled up atop it and lay down, blue eyes blinking in and out of focus as he peered around the room.
Can he see me?
Castiel's eyes slipped shut; he yawned and fell asleep.
No way. That's impossible.
The premonition of danger gave Dean a moment's warning: something to Castiel's left, something large, something only Dean could prevent. Reacting instantly, Dean materialized, wings flaring behind him as he swept down and enfolded the child protectively with his body. The wind gusted, there was a resounding cracking nose, something heavy crashed down around Dean and a jolt of electricity flared through his body, bristled his wings, coursed painfully through his skin, filled the air with the smell of seared flesh and burning feathers. Someone screamed. Huddling within the cocoon of Dean's wings, Castiel stared at Dean wide-eyed. Dean tried not to twitch as current scoured him, instead forcing a smile.
"Are you alright, Castiel?" he asked, trying to distract himself from the unpleasant sensation of being electrocuted. Leaves tickled at Dean's face, a weight of solid wood pressed into his back. Even as distracted as he was it wasn't difficult to reconstruct what had happened – a tree branch had fallen and snapped an electrical line. If Dean hadn't been there, Castiel would have either been crushed or shocked.
"Are you my guardian angel?" Castiel sounded shockingly calm at the prospect, equally unalarmed by their predicament.
"Yeah." The weight resting on Dean's shoulder shifted and he repressed a groan. He'd be fine, injuries could only hurt his corporealized body and would heal quickly, but if he did anything to suggest that he was in pain, Castiel might worry.
"Why didn't Callie's angel protect her last year?" demanded Castiel angrily.
"That was very sad," Dean said. He'd heard the story while watching Castiel at school; the girl had gotten into the household chemicals, drank something poisonous and had been in a coma ever since. It was precisely the kind of incident that Dean would have prevented, if Castiel were to find himself in such a situation. But even had Dean known of Callie's accident, he couldn't have done anything. Castiel was Dean's responsibility; he was permitted to interfere with no one else's life. "Callie didn't have a guardian angel."
"I thought everyone had a guardian angel," said Castiel. The electricity cut out abruptly and Dean shivered and hissed out a puff of air, his feathers fluffing out dryly. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, don't worry," Dean said. It was much easier to smile now that 50,000 volts weren't running through him. His grace tingled, supercharged. "Only a few people have guardian angels. I wish there were enough of us to guard every human, but we're too few. It's terrible knowing bad things happen to innocent people and heaven's host cannot prevent them, but that's the order of things."
"Why do I have a guardian angel?"
"I don't know," said Dean. The leaves around Dean's face shifted, the weight came off his shoulders, and with a flap of his wings Dean vanished, flashed instantly around the world to burn off the excess power he'd absorbed, returned milliseconds from when he'd left to see Castiel looking at the sky as every child who'd been at the playground with him gawked and every adult fussed to find Castiel unharmed. The excited chatter of the crowd made it clear that some of the onlookers had seen Dean and more myths about guardian angels were spawned – that miracles were real, that everyone had a guardian, that Castiel was blessed. Every rescue created talk which was part of why Dean wasn't allowed to intervene more often. He didn't mind. If Castiel needed him, Dean would be there. That was the entire purpose of Dean's existence.
"Do you think I should get pizza after school today?" Castiel said to the open air. Dean fluttered behind him, watching curiously, wishing he could warn Castiel that he wasn't as alone as he clearly thought. Castiel talked to nothing sometimes; Dean had figured the boy had an imaginary friend, though he was a bit old for that now. It was a strange habit, one that made Castiel's mother roll her eyes in exasperation and Castiel's friends mutter that he was weird. This time, Castiel was walking home by himself. He hadn't seen Alastair swaggering up behind him. Dean tensed, ready to defend Castiel if necessary.
Even if my danger sense doesn't trigger?
"Who are you talking to?" sniggered Alastair, deliberately shoulder-checking Castiel as he walked by. Castiel froze, expression betraying no fear though Dean knew how Castiel felt about the bully, knew all too well how often they had butted heads, knew that Castiel went home and in the privacy of his room he cried and tended his wounds. Despite that, Dean hadn't once been authorized to intervene and protect Castiel. His inability to act against his orders twisted in Dean's guts, left him sick and angry and helpless.
"My guardian angel," Castiel used boldness to mask his fear. He was such a brave, intelligent boy. Dean couldn't bear to watch him get hurt again.
"You have an imaginary friend?" Alastair laughed mockingly. "You're such a baby."
"He's not imaginary," said Castiel, expression defiant. "I have a guardian angel. I saw him. Other people saw him. He told me he was an angel. You must be too stupid to be able to see him."
Alastair's face went purple. "Stupid? I'll show you who's stupid! When you least expect it..."
Castiel tensed in anticipation but Alastair didn't attack. Instead, the bully strutted away and turned down a side street. There wouldn't be consequences now, not on a suburban street surrounded by neat houses and occasionally trafficked by nice cars. The consequences would come sometime later, probably at school, where the teachers smiled and excused Alastair and said "boys will be boys" as the violence escalated. Dean stewed the entire trip home, wondering what he should do. He was certain that Castiel was in danger but he had received no directive to act. The thought of what Alastair and his friends might do to Dean's beautiful, blue-eyed charge was too horrible to contemplate.
For the first time in his existence, Dean contemplated disobedience.
It was late that night, Castiel asleep, when Dean made up his mind. Castiel looked so peaceful as he rested, expression relaxed, breathing even. It was the first time Dean had seen him genuinely calm since Castiel got home from school that afternoon. He'd acted like nothing was wrong, eating dinner with his family, answering questions about his day, but Dean recognized the tension in his shoulders, the worry clouding his usually bright eyes, the fear as he stared blankly at a textbook and hesitated to begin the homework that Castiel usually did with such alacrity. Watching Castiel in distress hurt, the moreso because Dean knew he could help, if only he were permitted. The longer he watched the boy sleep, the more Dean's sense of duty broke down in the face of his worries for what the next day would bring. When he could take it no more, Dean resolved to interfere, to act preemptively, and made the terrifying choice to leave Castiel alone. It was the first time he'd done so, the first time he'd ever left a charge without express orders. Dean rationalized the choice but telling himself he'd be back in minutes. Castiel was asleep. Nothing bad would happen. Reaching out with his grace, Dean easily found who he sought.
Alastair's family lived in a large house in a fancy neighborhood. The boy had a room to himself, decorated macabrely with posters of people bound and bleeding. His parents must be insane not to realize that the child was a budding sociopath. Dean wished it was in his power to stop Alastair before he hurt anyone, but Dean couldn't. Alastair's fate was his own; Dean could only act on Castiel's behalf. Stopping Alastair permanently would fall to others.
Gathering his grace about himself, Dean dropped the cloaking magic that kept him invisible and manifest himself in all his angelic glory in the small confines of Alastair's bedroom. His wings spread, green and glowing gold, his aura flared with light and an indefinable sense of awe-inspiring holiness, his eyes flared pure green and inhuman. Alastair went white with fear and stumbled onto his bed, away from Dean, crying out as he did. Dean made sure no one else in the house could hear, that no one would interfere.
"The Lord's eyes are always on you, Alastair Rolston," Dean said, his voice amplified to be deep, echoing, terrifying. "He knows what you've done. He knows that you have sinned. He knows you plan to do worse. If you harm another living being, you will face the consequences of your actions. Your worst nightmares will seem like your fondest dreams. Do you understand?"
Alastair opened and closed his mouth, blinked, his breaths coming in desperate pants. "What...who...no, this is impossible, who is playing a prank on me? Is it you, Azazel? Ruby? I know it's gotta be one of you..."
"I am an angel of the Lord," Dean declaimed. "And you will obey the Lord's command or live long enough to reap ten times over every bit of pain you ever caused another. Do you understand?"
Alastair never bothered Castiel again, nor any other child at the school.
End note: Sorry this is sort of short, this is pretty much the story set up, and I'm too tired to do more tonight. More to come tomorrow, though! The first draft of this story is complete; it's about 20k. I'm hoping to get it all posted in the next 36 hours or so. I'm guessing I'll end up breaking it into around 4 chapters.