It was a dark rainy day when Dean found Castiel, a small angel stranded on the side road. He was young, no older than 9, and appeared to be completely alone, no tags or collars on him. It was pouring rain, his chocolatey wings dyed black and he was dressed in only a trench coat, his small frame shaking beneath it.
Dean had been walking home when the storm caught him and he was forced to run, nearly running over the drenched angel. As he was almost barrelled over, the angel stumbled backwards, throwing his arms over his face to protect himself. When he withdrew them, he saw a tall, tanned human male standing before him, staring down at him with a furrowed brow.
"Dude, shouldn't you be inside?" He asked, his voice husky and annoyed.
The angel didn't reply, his icy-blue eyes wide with fear and his feet frozen to the road.
Dean frowned when he received no response and took down the hood of his coat, growing irritated. "What, you lost or somethin'?" He asked, glancing the angels dark wings.
He nodded a little bit, his lips trembling and small whimpers coming from him.
Dean huffed and glanced down the street, his apartment just peaking out around the corner. "Come on," he muttered gruffly, grabbing the angel by the arm and hauling him towards the building. Inside, he looked around at the walls, trembling and breathing a little quicker as Dean fumbled around for his key and got the door open. He glanced at the angel, giving him a scrutinising look before allowing him inside.
"Wait here," he ordered before quickly running off to his room, leaving the angel dripping water onto the carpet. Dean returned a few minutes later, already dressed and becoming warmer, his lighter hair still damp.
In his arms, he held a pair of pyjama pants and a baggy t-shirt. He held them out towards the angel who just studied them with confusion. With an annoyed grunt, Dean set down the clothes and stripped the angel of his wet ones. He shook out the shirt and glanced between it and the angel, realising that the wings could be a problem. "One second," he said, turning away and hurrying to the bathroom, returning with a pair of scissors a minute or so later. He set down the shirt and carefully cut holes into the back of it, deciding that he didn't care much for the shirt anyways. When he was finished, there were two large, circular holes in the back, perfect for angel wings. He walked back over to the angel and instructed him to raise his arms, doing so obediently before Dean pulled the shirt on over his arms and head, feeding the wings through as well. "Comfortable?" He asked, receiving a mute nod from the angel. Dean sighed and nodded back, picking up the pyjama pants and helping into them.
When all was said and done, Dean straightened himself and examined his work. "What's your name, kid?" He asked, crossing his arms.
The angel hesitated, "Castiel," he replied quietly, his voice a little shaken.
Dean nodded, "Alright, Cas-tiel, I'm Dean," he said, struggling with the name for a second before sticking out his hand. Castiel studied it with a furrowed brow and Dean huffed, dropping up away, "Where do you live?"
Castiel shook his head a little bit.
"Alright, you're going to have to talk," Dean said gruffly before repeating himself, "Where do you live?"
"I don't know…" Castiel mumbled, shuffling his feet and keeping his eyes down on the ground.
"You don't know?" Dean said with annoyance, lifting a hand to rub his face, "Alright, what's your owner's name?"
"He only lets me call him Master," the angel explained quietly, glancing up nervously.
"Well, that's just great," Dean muttered then sighed, "Alright, com'ere." Castiel obediently walked over to Dean's side and looked up at him. Dean sighed and turned the angel around, lifting up the back of his shirt and peering between his wings. Tattooed there was a serial code that he scribbled down before releasing the angel, trying to disregard the bruises on his back he hadn't noticed earlier.
Dean cleared his throat and crossed his arms, "Alright, I'll get you home soon.." he said, trailing off a little bit before continuing on, "Where did you get those bruises from?"
Castiel looked down at the floor, not replying.
"Hey! I'm talking to you!" Dean snapped, making the angel jump to attention.
"My Master," he replied swiftly, letting his gaze fall back to the ground after he had spoken.
Dean huffed and turned away, rubbing at his face again. "Oh.." he muttered then glanced back at Castiel, "Look, you can spend the night here but I'm taking you back to your owner tomorrow."
He looked disappointed, but Castiel nodded anyways, knowing he had no choice in the matter.
"Alright," Dean said with a final nod, "I'm making us some dinner." He started off towards the kitchen, Castiel following him obediently. Once there, Dean sighed and looked through the cupboards, coming out with some bread and a can of tomato soup. "Good?" He asked Castiel, who only nodded a little bit in response, looking horribly confused. "Right.." Dean mumbled, getting started on the food and glancing at Castiel, "You can just go sit on the couch if you want. There's a TV.."
Castiel's expression lit up slightly and he nodded, scurrying off into the other room, leaving Dean alone to cook. He quickly found the remote and took it with him as he crawled onto the couch, huddling under a blanket that Dean had left out the other night. Having used a television before, Castiel quickly found a show about cats and settled into the couch, watching with a small smile.
For the first time that day, Castiel appeared to be genuinely happy.