DEAN

Dean's earliest memories are of singing to Sammy. As a bumbling two year old, he remembers his pudgy hands clinging to the bars of Sam's crib while he looked through with wonder and pride at being a big brother. Another fragment of memory that Dean remembers is riding around on Dad's shoulders, laughing manically, and clinging to his dark hair.

Throughout all these memories, a tall, solemn man with the most beautiful blue eyes Dean loves to stare into, with huge wings that remind Dean of the night sky, stands sentry. Dean is so used to him, that it doesn't occur that this is not normal. He only begins speaking to the tall man when Mom and Dad have to rush to the hospital because Sammy is sick.

"We'll be back in a couple hours son." Dad says to Dean, fluffing his soft blonde hair. They whirl out the door, and Dean is left alone in a dark house. He doesn't want to admit it, but there is a storm raging outside and he is scared. To him, the dark holds terror, and the unknown. Creeping up the stairs, Dean gets back into his new big boy bed, and tries to sleep. Out of the corner of his eyes, he detects a movement in the shadows. Imagination running wild, Dean pulls his knees up to his chest and throws the blanket over his head, as if it would protect him.

"Fear not." A deep, gravelly voice assures him. "It is me."

Dean peeks out, relieved to see the man with the blue eyes.

"You scared me!" He accused, in a high, childish voice.

The man bows his head slightly. "My apologies."

Dean doesn't really understand what 'apologies' means but he understands the man is sorry for scaring him. A flash of lightning illuminates the man's features for a moment. It is followed seconds later by a massive clap of thunder, and Dean cries out, instinctively pressing his palms to his ears.

"You are scared of thunder?"

"I'm not scared of anything." Dean says, stubbornly.

"I see." The man's voice sounds amused.

Dean suddenly recalls what his mother always told him. 'Angels are watching over you.'

"My name is Dean Winchester and I'm five and a half years old." Dean tells the man.

"Hello, Dean. My name is Castiel."

His mother had always told him angels had fluffy white wings, and this man had dark wings.

"Are you an angel?" Dean asks.

"Yes, I am your guardian angel, Dean."

"How come your wings aren't white?"

Castiel laughs gently, a warm, inviting sound. Dean is starting to get sleepy.

"Not all angels have white wings, Dean."

Yawning, Dean cuddles close to Castiel, fingers in his mouth. "Night Cas." He mumbles around his fingers. He feels the soft weight of Castiel's wings around him.

That is how Dean sleeps for the next ten years, until he decides he is no longer a small child.

At 8 years old, Dean plays at the playground with his friend, Jo.

"Jo?"

"Yeah?" She flicks blond hair out of her eyes and digs into the sand in the sandbox with practiced determination.

"Do you have an angel?"

Jo looks up, genuinely confused. "I don't think so…"

Dean looks beyond her to where Castiel stands, watching. He is still in that suit and trench coat ensemble, and Dean thinks it must be hot under all that layers, what with it being summer in Lawrence.

Jo turns, shading her eyes. "What're you looking at, Dean?"

That is the moment where it first occurs to Dean that he might be special, to have Castiel, and at that age, the idea brings him great joy. Throwing a grin at Castiel, he turns to Jo, leaning in secretively. "I have an angel. His name is Castiel."

"Like the poem!" Jo nods enthusiastically.

"Huh?"

"In the poem, Castiel is the Angel of Thursdays!"

Dean brightens. "I told you! He's my very own angel."

Dean looks up to make sure Castiel is still there. Dean is bemused to see Castiel angling towards someone who isn't there, his mouth moving, as if he was talking to himself.

Later, once Dean is in bed, safe in his angel's arms, Dean grills Castiel on it.

"Cas, who were you talking to?"

Castiel pauses. "I was speaking to the guardian angel of your mother. Her name is Ambriel."

"How come I can't see her? And how come other people can't see you?"

"You can see me because I'm your guardian angel. No one else can."

"Then how come other people can't see their own angels?" Dean quizzes.

"You are special Dean." Castiel answers.

"I am?" Dean is pleased.

"Yes. But we must keep this a secret between us."

"Oh. Okay." Dean agrees, partly because he is too sleepy to think of a reason why he shouldn't.

"I love you, Cas."

Castiel stiffens, then pulls Dean closer. "I…I love you too, Dean."

"I'm real lucky I got an angel like you."

Dean falls asleep as Castiel sings to him softly in what Castiel calls Enochian. Castiel once said it was the language of the angels. "Night Cas." Dean mutters as he slips into slumber.

The next day when he tells Mom about her angel, Ambriel, Mom starts crying and hugs Dean close, mumbling how beautiful that was and how special he was.

At fifteen, Dean is starting to become broad shouldered, his features becoming more masculine. He reads, plays football and teases his little brother endlessly.

"Hey Cas." Dean groans and shoves his book bag onto the floor.

"How was school, Dean?" Castiel asks, conversationally.

Dean rolls his eyes. "School is school Cas. It doesn't really change from day to day."

"I see."

"What'd you do today?" Dean asks, sitting on the bed, pulling off his sneakers.

"I travelled the Earth." Castiel tells him.

"Okay." Dean huffs a laugh. He is long used to Castiel's weirdness. Castiel's weirdness, to him is comfortable. It is like home, and he likes it. Reaching out to tug at Castiel's trench coat, he grins. "Dude, guess what."

Castiel just stares at him with his head cocked to the side, that says he is confused by Dean's human intricacies.

Dean smacks his head, and sighs. "I'm asking Jo out, tomorrow."

Castiel nods. "That is good, Dean. She is a lovely girl."

"Do you think she'll say yes?" Dean nudges Castiel. "Do your angel mojo will ya?"

Castiel shakes his head. "That is meant for emergencies only, Dean. However, based on my observation of your friendship with her, she appears to like you. You may have a good chance with her."

"Dude, you said that about Pamela." Dean groans. "You were so wrong."

"My apologies, Dean, I am not yet used to the way humans communicate with each other."

"Then how would you know Jo likes me?"

"Her soul lights up when you are around." Castiel explains.

Dean's eyes widen, the green lightening with pleasure. "Really? You can see souls?"

Castiel nods.

"What does mine look like?" Dean asks, eagerly.

Castiel can never refuse his charge. "You are bright, Dean. Your soul glows. It is one of the most beautiful things I have seen."

Dean's features soften and he looks into Castiel's blue eyes for a moment before looking away abruptly, covering it up with a laugh. "Dude, that is so soppy. But thanks, I guess."

"Dean!" Mom calls up the stairs. "Dinner!"

Dean straightens, and throws a grin at his angel. "That's my cue, Cas." By habit, he reaches over and runs his hand down Castiel's great, soft wings that trail the floor of his bedroom. "Laters, Cas."

Dean stopped saying he loved Castiel as soon as he turned 12. Castiel was just his weirdo angel friend. It would be weird to tell him he loved him. He barely even told his parents he loved them.

"Hey bitch." Dean locks Sam's head in his elbow and rubs his knuckles over his scalp.

"Ow!" Sam gives him his bitch-face as soon as he is released from Dean's grip. "Jerk!"

Sam is still tiny, and Dean's recent growth spurt gives him an added advantage over his little brother.

"Boys." Dad calls out. "Dinnertime. Get a move on will ya?"

Dean kisses his mother's cheek. "Heya mom."

"Set the table will you, honey?"

Dean obliges, and soon they're all seated around the dining table.

Dad picks at his food. "Mary this is all rabbit food and cardboard."

Mom gives him a reproachful glance. "John, this is what people eat after they've had a heart attack."

"The doctor said it was minor." Dad rolls his eyes, chewing on a carrot.

"He also said it might be more serious next time if you're not careful." Mom glared at him. "Please don't worry the boys."

Dad glances at his quiet sons. "I'll be fine boys. Don't worry about your ol' dad." He grins at Dean, and the grin Dean returns is pained and full of worry.

Later that night, he goes to bed early to have his nightly chat with Castiel. He'd asked his Mom to bring a rocking chair into his room, not telling her that it was for Castiel. Now, Castiel was rocking gently, reading one of the literary classics that Dean was assigned to read for school.

"Hey Cas."

Castiel puts down the book and stares intently at Dean. "Hello, Dean."

"Cas, is my Dad gonna be okay?" Dean asks, biting his lip.

Castiel is silent for a moment then looks at Dean. "I have spoken with Haniel, his angel. He is healthy, do not worry."

Dean sighs, relieved. "Thanks, man."

Castiel places a calming hand on Dean's shoulder. "Do not worry, Dean. I would never allow harm to come to you."

Dean throws his arms around Castiel, hugging him tight. For a moment the angel is still, and Dean fears he has done something wrong, but then, Castiel is hugging him back, and Dean's mind goes blank. Castiel rocks him, gently, until he falls asleep, then the last thing Dean remembers is being gently laid on his bed, before everything goes dark.