Dean is buffing out a dent from the Impala, again, when he feels the familiar sudden stillness surround him.
"Hey, Cas," he says, without looking up from his work.
"Dean," Castiel says, as monotone as ever, "I require your assistance."
Dean snorts, still fiddling with the car. "Oh yeah? What is it this time? Demons, ghouls," he finally turns and looks up, "Holy shit Cas, where did you get that baby!"
Castiel stares at Dean for a moment, wide blue eyes showing his confliction.
"I retrieved him from his plastic cage."
"Plastic cage…" Dean trails, "His crib? You stole an infant from his crib!"
"I… suppose," Cas says, slowly, "But it was my duty."
Dean huffs and goes around to the trunk, placing his tools back in the care, before closing the trunk and coming back to stand before Castiel.
"Look at her," Dean says, softly, "She can't even be a year old. Hey there, munchkin."
He smoothes his hand over her baby-soft hair, surprised that she's not crying in a stranger's arms.
"What makes stealing a baby your duty?" Dean asks, fighting the urge to raise his voice again.
Castiel sighs.
"She is an angel of the lord. I was told to retrieve her. I did not ask questions."
"Dammit, Cas," Dean says, "Maybe you should start! Why do you need my help if all you're doing is delivering her, anyway?"
"I…" Castiel says, sighing again, "I think I feel… apprehension."
"You mean guilt," Dean retorts, watching in amazement as the baby girl shuffles to rest her head on Castiel's shoulder and goes to sleep.
It'd be sweet if it wasn't so damn bizarre.
"Perhaps," Cas admits, "I find myself questioning my Father's orders. It is unsettling."
"Cas," Dean says, understanding the angels' conflict all too well, "How am I supposed to help you with this? Why can't the angel in there just choose another vessel?"
"She is not a vessel," Castiel replies, "She is a natural born angel."
"Is that even possible?" Dean asks, "How is that even possible?"
"Her mother laid with an angel, and she was conceived," Cas explains, "She is technically a half-angel."
"Ok," Dean says, though it's apparent he's still trying to wrap his head around it all.
"An abomination," Cas says, quieter than before.
That gets Dean's attention and he snaps his gaze to Cas.
"An abomination? I don't like the sound of that, Cas. We know how well your father deals with 'abominations.'"
"That is why I came to see you," Cas says, "I'm having a… moral conflict, I suppose you would call it."
Dean laughs in disbelief, "And you want me to tell you what to do? Or do you want me to tell you that, yes, it's OK to deliver an infant to almost-certain death?"
Castiel looks lost, absentmindedly squeezing the baby a little tighter. She wiggles in her sleep, and he finds himself rubbing her back comfortingly until she settles down.
"My father will not be pleased," Castiel says, at last, "But I cannot do it. I will return her to her plastic cage."
Dean grins, "It's a crib, Cas. Not a cage."
"Very well," Castiel says, "I will make it so the other angels can't find her, but that's the most I can do."
Dean nods, "It's a better chance than she had before."
He reaches out to smooth the baby's hair one more time, pushing away thoughts of families and picket fences once again. Dean steps back, but not before clasping Cas on the shoulder tight for a moment.
"You did good," he says, almost smiling, "I'm… you did good."
Cas looks like he's about to reply for a moment, but then he's gone.
Dean barely has a second to process what had just happened before Sam is coming out of the house, two beers in hand. He reaches Dean and hands him one without prompting.
"Was that Cas?" Sam asks, "What'd he want?"
They lean against the car and tug on their bottles, quiet for a moment.
"Eh, you know Cas," Dean shrugs, "Sometime he just shows up. It was nothing important."
"Alright," Sam says, agreeing readily enough. "You fix the dent?"
"Mhm," Dean says, "If there's one thing my baby can do, it's take a beating and come back swinging."
"Dean…" Sam starts, already turning his soulful eyes on Dean.
"No," Dean says, raising a hand in the universal 'stop' motion. "No chick flick moments. And absolutely no heart-wrenching metaphors or emotional speeches. I just wanna enjoy my beer, then get some sleep before the next disaster."
Sam rolls his eyes but nods and goes back to drinking his beer.
.
.
Castiel places the baby back in her plastic cage, all before her parents have even noticed she was gone. She's awake now, and staring at him with eerily blue eyes, just watching.
"I hope to never see you again," Cas whispers, "For your own good."
And he's gone, the shadow of his wings showcased by the night-light, in the otherwise dark room.