Castiel woke up to a world of itch and soreness. Of tiredness and irritation.
But his vessel no longer felt numb and he was on something soft.
That was good to an extent.
Still his wings were once again killing him and he had to bit back the urge to rub his face against the pillow and flap his wings out of annoyance. He was an angel not a fledgling he had to have better control of his behavior.
So rolling out of bed he took an odd shower that felt great to his aching back and while he would have liked for his wings to take on the warm water he knew this place was too small for him to materialize them.
Considering he had no clothes to wear he put back on the ones he had before which weren't his but he didn't think the Winchesters would take well for him to wander around naked.
Putting on a shirt didn't felt as pleasing because the silk made the itching worse but he couldn't help it. He knew he had to put on something in case a loose feather was to drop or the fact that his vessel's back could wield signs of something wrong.
So he ended up putting back Sam's shirt due how loose it was on him. A lot different from his own shirt.
The bunker was silent and he wasn't sure what hour was it. And as he walked down the corridor he couldn't help but scratch his back. Right at the base of his wings and while part of him knew he shouldn't indulge in the art of scratching both because it could make things worse and because he was no dog he couldn't help it nor did he care because he was quite on edge to care about angelic etiquette at all.
And Castiel was so focused on reaching certain spot that he didn't notice he had stepped out of the corridor and that he had public.
-Can angels get scabies?
Dean's voice is what catches his attention and it was Castiel's perfect control what kept him from flapping his wings out in defense. Still that didn't kept his feathers from bristling nor his shoulders from flinching as he turned to look towards the source of the voice.
The three Winchesters were there at the map table.
And despite the half concern half amusement in Dean's voice something about their faces doesn't sit right with him.
-What are scabies?- Castiel finds himself asking despite all. Curious at the weird concept.
-An infection that provokes itching and rashes.- Sam's words got him scowling as a flare of offense sparked in his chest.
-I'm not sick.
As if to disagree with his statement the hunters watched as a feather dropped behind him. That one had little to none barbs left as it landed on the floor.
-You aren't? Then how come in the ten years we have known each other we never saw a single feather of you and now you apparently can't stop leaving them around? We saw the ones under your bed. Dude. You slept for 19 hours . Sick or not there's definitely something you are not telling us.
Castiel scowled and had a good mind about turning around and leaving.
But there was something about their looks and the fact that he felt safer here than outside that stopped him from storming off. Because despite how good the lake had felt the cold water hadn't settled well with him after a while and neither did the feeling of being so vulnerable in the open and alone.
He didn't like having to preen while also looking over his shoulder for possible threats.
Because if he kept this up he would end up with stress bars or breaking the pin feathers if his grace flared up the wrong way and if that happened he would have to wait for the next molting in order to be able to use his wings again.
But the idea of telling them still didn't felt right.
He didn't felt comfortable at all with the situation.
On another note he didn't like one bit the idea of them thinking he was sick and that he was leaving feathers around with questionable diseases.
-Cas?
-I'm not sick. I'm... It's an angel thing.- He muttered avoiding their gaze half out of shame half out of how anxious he was feeling.
He wanted to go back to his room and be miserable all on his own with no one else to know or watch as he scratched and hated on Chuck from the depths of his core for giving them this kind of setback.
Castiel almost for once in his life wished he was Lucifer who he had heard a few times in the past was the kind to drop all the feathers at once. But at the same time he kinda pitied the devil on that one.
Because while convenient and a bit faster the itch would have to be twice as worse.
-An angel thing?- Repeated Dean raising an eyebrow. Sam at his side looked curious while Mary looked confused.
Castiel wished he hadn't spoken.
But it was too late and he was too tired to care anymore. All he wanted was to tear the shirt apart because as loose as it was it still touched his shoulderblades making the itch grow maddening.
And so he went back to scratching. Contorting his arms in ways a human body should not be contorted.
-Scratching like a dog with scabies is an angel thing?- Asked Mary concerned and watching as another feather with frayed barbs dropped to the ground.
-You are dropping feathers, are you sure that's normal?- Asked Sam equally concerned.
-I'm molting. That's what it does. I was in the lake because the water stopped the itch to some extent.- Told Castiel willing himself to stop scratching as his wings stretched out in silent protest.
-Molting? What the hell is that?
-It's when angels shed their old feathers and regrow new ones... Birds do it too but unlike them for us it's every ten years. There's not much that can damage our feathers after all.- He added as an afterthought. He rolled his shoulder and felt another feather go loose.
Meanwhile the three hunters were staring at the angel in silent fascination.
For one side that at least explained what he was doing in the lake and relieved their worries about the bunch of feathers.
But on the other hand the fact that he was scratching like that and sleeping didn't settle well with them.
-Does it hurt?- Asked Sam half worried half curious.
-Sometimes. But for the most part it's just uncomfortable, because it itches and it never stops itching. And I can't scratch too much because then it will hurt. My whole back feels like it's on fire right now and it's really, really annoying.
Castiel wasn't sure what to think of the pitiful looks he was getting from the hunters.
-What about the sleeping? Is that part of it too?
-Our grace is the one that generates the new feathers which means most of it focuses on the wings. We cannot use our grace so as to not trigger the shifting of the feathers and no matter how much I sleep the exhaustion won't stop. Even so it will take a while before I can use my grace after all the feathers have grown back.
But at least he will be able to fly again.
-You used your grace before.- Pointed out Mary who was also starting to realize what could be the reason behind Castiel snapping at Dean the other day.
-I saved Sam.- Told Castiel. He would probably have stress bars in the feathers he damaged while using his grace but he didn't care. His grace would hopefully fix them at the end and even so it weren't enough to prevent him from flying.
-You got hurt.- Realized Sam as he remembered the ringing in the air that now that he thought about it could have been Castiel's true voice, that along with the look of pain served to punch the guilt into his gut.
-I'm fine.- Lied Castiel avoiding their gaze. Because to be honest the skin around where the pin feathers were coming out from had suffered damage and having to deal with them had been a complete nightmare. Because the skin was too sensitive but he couldn't expect the feathers to grow out on their own without him stimulating them.
But he didn't even want to touch them.
-What does the shifting of feathers means exactly?- Asked Dean who had stood up with eyes narrowed and approaching Castiel who suddenly felt not so sure of himself. Wings wrapping around him as his shoulders squared up.
He hated this feeling of vulnerability and persistent fear that anything and everything could be out to get him.
And still he found himself talking.
-Angel feathers are in a persistent state of shifting between sharp and smooth but on battle our wings become steel-like strong which allows us to use them as either shields or weapons of great impact. During molting our feathers lose their shifting state so as to avoid the growing feathers from causing injuries in their way out.
Using their grace could lead to their feathers shifting and provoking lacerations and broken feathers that could grow wrong which in return would make their wings useless for flight.
But the Winchesters didn't need to know about that bit. He didn't want Sam to feel guilty.
-Show me.
Dean's command made his entire frame stiffen and his wings press tighter against him. Castiel found himself reacting more out of instinct than anything else as he stepped back from the hunter.
Suddenly all he could think about were Dean's threats against angels.
"Fried wings."
"I'm gonna fry you like a chicken."
All he could see was Gabriel in a circle of holy fire with his wings tucked so close to himself it was almost impossible to see his face.
Of Balthazar in the same situation.
-No.
Sam nor Dean ever thought possible that it would come the day where they would get to hear Castiel sound so fearful.
Of them.
-Cas, I'm not gonna hurt you.
-I said no .- Snapped Castiel who while he believed Dean and trusted the Winchesters would never bring harm to him on purpose felt too on edge to see reason. His wings flared out above him with feathers bristled despite the fact that no one could see them.
He flapped them once out of agitation which in return sent a soft wave of air across the room that made the hunters' hairs grow all disheveled. More feathers dropping off and this time he didn't bother to pick them up as he walked off.
Meanwhile the Winchesters stared at the feathers littering the floor. That along with the odd wind had left quite the imprint in their heads.
A reminder that this was an angel what they were dealing with.
One who was clearly suffering but neither of them knew how to help or even if they were allowed to help.
These were angel wings after all.
And still all the feathers littering the floor were in such a sorry state it also reminded Sam and Dean that angels had fell. Had no use at all of their wings which meant it would make sense for Cas to be so defensive.
Ten years was a long time to have to wait for another growth of feathers.
Still.
He was hurt.
None of them wanted to sit and do nothing.
So Sam opened his computer and typed down about birds molting. It was the closest thing they would get after all.
•••••••••
Castiel took off his shirt and sat down on the bed with a miserable sigh. He was tired too tired but he knew he had to preen his feathers. He wished he had Balthazar with him. Or Gabriel. Or Samandriel.
But he was the very reason he didn't had nor the first one nor the last one. And with how Gabriel acted the last time he saw him he didn't felt 100% comfortable with the idea of allowing the archangel near his wings.
If he was alive that's it.
Contorting his body in ways no human body should be contorted wasn't fun but he had to reach the entirety of his wings somehow. He wished his true form wasn't so destructive with humans. Because in his true form he could contort as much as he wanted without risking breaking something.
Materializing his wings was never fun. Angels could hide their wings from each other too but while most of them didn't do it Castiel made sure to keep his hidden even if his life depended on it.
The less people saw them the less he would have to deal with their comments.
A few more feathers dropped as he ran his fingers through the mostly naked wings. The sight was so pathetic and his only comfort was that all angels were probably in this same state if not worse.
He tried to avoid touching the ones that were damaged as much as possible but ended up biting through the pain and dealing with it.
At the end he wasn't even able to preen them as well as it should be due the protest of the vessel's bones. So he ended up slumping down on the bed both in exhaustion and frustration. Small tremors wrecking through his wings as the pain throbbed around the pin feathers like an incandescent solar flare.
He wanted this to be over so bad.
The itch. The pain. The tiredness. The soreness of this vessel due the impractical contortions. All of it was so irritating.
And the worst was that he was growing aware of how impossible was it to do this on his own.
Not for the first time his chest ached at the reminder that none of his siblings would ever help him and the ones who would were dead because of him.
He wished he could curl but materialized wings didn't agree with that idea and he was in too much pain and discomfort to put them back in the ethereal plane.
Miserable didn't even begin to describe how he felt right now.
••••••••••
Looking up information about molting birds gave Castiel's attitude some sense despite how wrong it felt to compare an angel with a bird.
Still.
Defensive and fearful due the vulnerable state the situation leaves them at which can lead to being irritable and show aggressive behavior towards others.
Can also exhibit twitching behavior due the persistent itch and discomfort.
The new feather shafts (pin feathers) wee very sensitive and could be painful when touched. If the pin feathers were damaged, they could bleed profusely.
Part of Sam didn't want to think about the extent of the injuries Castiel was hiding.
And as far as Sam was able to make out warm water and slow scratches could help with the itch.
Cas did said the water at the lake had helped to some extent despite how freezing his skin had felt to the touch but the Winchesters guessed the cold was the last of his problems when there was a permanent itch and discomfort threatening to drive him mad.
Scratches had to done as gentle as possible to avoid irritation or accidentally giving a painful scratch.
The angel hadn't seemed to care at all if scratching ended up hurting despite his own words.
̶O̶̶w̶̶n̶̶e̶̶r̶̶s̶ Friends must understand the pain they are feeling and remain calm even if they act moody and stubborn during this stage.
That one had gotten Dean looks . He who could start a fight all on his own. He needed to keep his mood under control because while birds could bite or scratch if pissed Castiel was human sized with quite massive wings if the prints left behind by dead angels was something to go for.
Pissing Castiel off right now was not something to aim for.
Not that that was something to aim for on a regular day. The angel could be terrifying and overwhelmingly intimidating if he wanted to.
-What are we gonna do with these?- Ponders Mary staring at the small pile of dulled for the most part charred feathers laying on the map table.
-Keep them I guess. He didn't seem to care at all and I don't feel comfortable with the idea of using them for spells.- Said Sam who had been the one to pick them up from the floor earlier. He was holding one between his fingers which seemed to have been frayed and dipped into the blackest of inks.
Also.
There were no blueish tendrils hiding in the quill.
What there was was a small crack running across the quill close to the downy barbs.
And the feather was stiff to the touch and it stained his fingers with something akind to ash.
"Hell."
A little voice at the back of his head supplies.
Reminding him with a bit more of awareness that an angel going to Hell as much as Cas had done in the past had had to have repercussions on him somehow.
Something from Heaven was willing to stain itself in order to help them over and over again.
Sam wondered if that ever affected more than just the color of his wings.
-I thought angels were suppose to have white feathers.- Said Dean twirling a broken feather between his fingers. Dulled in color and missing a few barbs.
-These are prettier than white.- Pointed out mom as a statement of fact that Sam had to agree with.
The ones they had for spells here were a dull white almost grayish.
But Cas' were such a dulled shade of rainbow colors. Unlike rainbow colored birds his feathers didn't wield one colors with bits of another one.
No.
Castiel's held the entire explosion of colors. With that almost imperceptible shimmer when twirled under the light.
It made one ponder how did his wings looked like for real.
•••••••••••
Castiel hadn't been seen for over a week now. He was still in his room but he wouldn't react well to someone asking how was he.
At least he hadn't rejected the warm towels or the spray bottles filled with water.
Still.
He seemed to grow worse in attitude the more time passed.
But the hunters tried to be comprehensive and keep their own tempers under control. Like the article said one had to be understanding of the situation.
Even if that meant putting up with an angel threatening to burn your hair off if you so much as asked if he was okay for the third time in a row.
Dean never expected Castiel could be such an absolute pain in the ass. The shitty attitude was amazing and the fact that he could sound as moody as a teenager was even more awestrucking.
The amount of anger and aggression he exuded through that closed door was mind blowing.
If Dean had been told ten years ago that the angel he met in the barn with a stick up his ass could wield such temper while also sounding like a twelve year old he would have called a mental hospital.
Still. Patience .
Dean wondered if all angels were so bitchy when like this.
It was almost hilarious to think Chuck had done this to creatures who were suppose to be all righteous and divine.
The Winchesters didn't dare to offer manual help due a few reasons neither of them wanted to find out about.
Because while it could be some kind of taboo to touch an angel's wings or even see them wings could also wield a similar meaning to those of a bird's and be connected to a sexual aspect.
And neither of the hunters felt like offering something that could lead to misunderstandings with the angel less much if it was related to that kind of aspect.
So Castiel wasn't seen for a while.
Still no matter how much he snapped at them or threw threats that went from burning stuff to breaking bones or toppling over the edge of childish insults neither of them tried to retaliate back and took it to keep leaving warm towels, ice packs and even a few books outside of his door.
It said birds could take from one to two months molting depending the specie but Cas was no bird and he refused to answer at all to their questions. But Mary Winchester wasn't a mother nor stubborn for nothing. She was the only one brave enough to keep poking at the bear even when this one growled back.
Angels took a month and a half to molt.
Castiel's temper improved as weeks went by but he was still a force to be feared if poked at for too long.
He had at some point given them all the feathers he had lost asking them to burn them all and while it had felt wrong to burn them the Winchesters had done as asked.
Little did the hunters knew the kind of thing that would be asked of them after giving up on ever seeing the angel's wings.
•••••••••
Castiel was pissed.
But to be fair his vessel was hurting in parts he never expected it to hurt with all the bending and contortion he had done and his grace had laid to waste after working so hard during the molting. He was at the edge of falling asleep while standing and he couldn't even bend his arm without feeling like a muscle was about to snap.
And his wings while back to their prime were no sight at all nor even decent for flying because all the feathers were an absolute mess, sticking in all the wrong directions and like he had expected a few had come out with stress bars which he tried to not pay mind to.
His wings were horrible to put it blunt.
And he couldn't preen them because he had been preening for the past month and a half and he felt like his vessel's arms would break if he attempted to bend just a tiny bit.
But having his wings in such disarray made him feel all kinds of wrong and itchy.
He wouldn't even be able to fly like this.
But he couldn't preen.
There was one option left which he didn't like one bit. Each atom in his being screaming against the idea of allowing someone to touch his wings.
But while he trusted the Winchesters and knew he could ask them it didn't make it any easier.
Angels were awfully picky with who was allowed to touch their wings.
But flying.
The idea of being able to soar back into the skies was too tempting to ignore and so after hiding his wings back into the ethereal plane he stepped out of his room with the confidence of a soldier.
Still.
He walked across the corridor with some reluctance about his goal. It wasn't that early so he hoped the Winchesters were already awake.
But as he heard voices coming from the war room he came to a halt suddenly feeling anxious about this idea. He hadn't been that nice lately what if he wasn't allowed to ask for a favor? What if Dean teased him about the color? Unlike angels humans seemed to wield a strange sense of humor towards rainbows which made no sense at all to him. And what if Sam was mad about Castiel calling him a moose? Crowley was the one who gave him that nickname which could be offensive to the Winchester. Or what if Mary was pissed at him for him shouting at her to shut up when she was reading to him. But he had been so frustrated and her voice had been too much for his sensitive state.
Thinking better of it he could wait.
Yes that sounded better. Waiting was a hundred times better than facing teasing or rejection. Waiting was-
-Alive at least sunshine!
Sometimes Castiel forgot he lived with three hunters.
But he never expected that Dean Winchester would manage to sneak up on him and cause him to half jump forward with such poor erratic coordination he ended up having the greatest most undignifying fall in his thousands of years of life accompanied with an even more undignifying yelp.
-Dean!- Mary's shout was filled with disbelief at the fact that her son had had the ̶s̶̶t̶̶u̶̶p̶̶i̶̶d̶̶i̶̶t̶̶y̶ courage to give an angel a jumps care and also disapproval but that didn't erase the triumphant smirk her eldest had plastered in his face.
Castiel had sat up on the floor and was looking half shocked half traumatized and there was something about the spiked hair and the fact that he was only wearing one of Dean's sweatpants that made him look awfully human. Dean ended up taking pity of him and approached him.
-Hey, Cas, I'm sorry, you okay?- Asked Dean as he offered a hand to the still frozen angel who seemed to still be processing the fact that what happened did in fact just happen. He then looked up at Dean with a kicked puppy look.
-Are you still mad at me for calling pies humanity's worst invention?
-What? No. We both know that that was the madness of the moment talking. We can speak lies when frustrated.- Said Dean with an all forgiving air. As if he knew that to be the whole truth of the world and that Cas would never disrespect his pie like that while in his five senses.
-Oh...
-Yeah. Now get up I don't think the floor can be that comfortable.- Told Dean still offering his hand. Castiel took it without a second thought and winced as he was pulled up. Half stumbling forward and having to grab onto the hunter's shoulder for support.
Dean resisted the urge to flee when he felt Cas' hand way too close to the scar the angel in question had left on him when he brought him back from Hell years ago.
-Dude, are you okay?
-I'm fine. I'm sorry.- Castiel stepped back with a shudder. Messed up feathers made his wings feel weird and with that came a bit of troubles with his balance. Castiel was probably the first angel to ever suffer from something so stupid.
-You sure? You said before your grace wouldn't work that well after the molting. Are you human now?
-No. I'm still an angel. But it will take time to recover which means I cannot heal nor smite demons and it will also take a while before I'm able to stop feeling so tired.
And Castiel hated feeling tired.
-So you are done? I mean, is it done?- Asked Sam curiously.
-Yes... I'm sorry how I acted towards you. And I'm sorry for all the things I said, I wasn't thinking straight.
-Dude. That's fine. At least we know now that under all that calmness and stoic face there's an absolute pain in the ass able to make amazing tantrums and wield an even more amazing temper. And you got your wings back right?
-Yes.
-That's good, but I swear to God if you dare so much as zap inside this bunker I will revoke your privileges to sit in the co-pilot seat.- Warned Dean like a man taking no bullshit.
-I thought this was a free bunker?- Teased Sam remembering Dean's special shorts for when he washed the impala.
-Yeah. Free of heart attacks.
-Can I ask for a favor?- Castiel's words got him three set of Winchesters staring at him and he suddenly felt very uncomfortable.
-Sure. What is it that you need?- Asked Mary with her voice gentle as she noticed how skittish Castiel seemed to be reacting.
-I...- Castiel looked down for a moment feeling his wings shuffle behind him.- You don't have to do it but... I would truly appreciate it if you were to help me with my wings.
There.
It was out and it felt like a weight had left his shoulders despite the fact that he still didn't felt comfortable with this.
But as he got no answer and looked up it was to find stunned faces. Silence. He began shifting.
-I'm sorry. I didn't meant to make you uncomfortable.
-No. No. It's not-You are not making us uncomfortable Cas. We were just surprised.- Said Mary quickly as her brain tried and failed to process the angel's request.
Because Castiel had been so skittish and protective of his wings none of them had thought he would ever allow them to help. And to some extent the hunters had understood.
-What do you need help with?- Asked Sam softly, as if speaking too loud would spook the angel and send him running back to his room.
-My vessel hurts whenever I try to bend. I think there's so much you can contort the human body before it begins resenting it. And my wings are still a mess and it's uncomfortable but I can't do anything about it because it hurts to move. I could do it if I was to get out but I'm not sure if I want to find out if I can repossess a vessel that no longer is able to give me permission.
And part of him didn't want to lose this vessel he had grown so fond of plus he wasn't sure how would he face Claire if he was to give up what her father had died for.
-Sure. Of course Cas. What do we need to do?- Asks Sam. He could see it, despite all Cas didn't seem to be as comfortable as he was aiming to look with the idea of asking them for help. Maybe angel wings had more to them than they realized.
-The feathers are in complete disarray. All you need to do is smooth them down so they won't be sticking in all the wrong directions... I don't think I need to say it but don't pull them.
-Okay. Okay. How do you wanna do this? Sit down? Standing?
-Whichever you think it would be more comfortable for you. My wings are... rather big and even with three set of hands I'm afraid it will still take a while.
-Oh.
-I know.- Said Dean as a sudden idea struck him.- Come here.- He grabbed Castiel's arm and lead towards the map table where he pulled a chair out and turned it around.- Sit down. We will stand it will make it easier to move.
There was something about sitting down with his back exposed that made Castiel shudder. Feathers shifting into their metallic state for a moment which felt twice as uncomfortable as he had expected.
-Is there something we should know? Like... somewhere we shouldn't touch or something?
Castiel caught the meaning behind Dean's sudden awkward tone of voice and turned to look at him over his shoulder. Right. Birds .
-Angels are not birds. Our wings are not related to anything sexual like it's with birds, you don't need to worry. I would never ask you to help me if that was the case.- Told Castiel as a statement of fact.
That at least seemed to lift a weight off the hunters' shoulders.
-Good. Right, uhm, you can... you know.- Sam motioned to his back awkwardly.
-Right... You should... step back.- Muttered Castiel feeling less sure about this the more minutes went by.
The Winchesters rounded the table so as to stand infront of him rather than behind him.
Castiel straightened his back for a moment before rolling his shoulders.
And then he pulled his wings out of the ethereal plane.
••••••••••
It was clear that Castiel was nervous about the whole situation and that he was asking for help more out of having no more options which had lead the hunters to believe his wings would be somehow damaged or deformed and that he didn't want others to see.
So it came out as a shock when what glitched into existence was far from being damaged at all.
As Castiel had said the wings were massive even in their half stretched out state. Primaries grazing the floor.
The feathers the hunters had gathered of him before were dull and for the most part ruined but this...
None of them ever expected the actual deal to look as it did.
Castiel's feathers looked like an explosion of shimmering rainbows. Vibrant colors swirling across each feather with stunning patterns that seemed to have been carved out of metal before being painted with glitter and dust pulled out from across the galaxies. The sight was as breathtaking as it was overhelming. Because there was so many colors and so many swirls and how could something so beautiful and ethereal exist?
-Cas they are beautiful.- Breathed out Mary and she was amazed to see how the feathers fluffed up at the comment.
-Thank you.
Sam was the first one to wield the courage to approach the gorgeous set of feathered appendages. Marvelling at the sight of the subtle movements that seemed to connect with Cas' own movements of arms or head as he followed him with his gaze.
There was something about having such a strong proof about the angel that made Sam touch his chest as emotion threatened to overwhelm him both due his hunter instincts and the fact that angels were really real.
And it was so fascinating to see those appendages connected to his shoulderblades which gave the definitive verdict that those wings were without a doubt part of Cas.
Still he could see it.
All the feathers pointed in all the wrong directions making an absolute mess that had to be without a doubt uncomfortable.
-How do we start?- Asked Sam hesitant to even reach to the wings as he threw a glance at Dean and mom who seemed to snap out of their daydreaming before joining him behind Cas.
-However you wish.
-Okay.
Castiel tensed up when the first hand rested on his left wing. The touch was light and almost hesitant.
-You said to smooth them down?- Asked Mary as she tried to keep a grip on herself. Of all things she never expected she would one day end up touching the absolutely stunning wing of an angel.
-Yes.
-Okay. Sam and Dean are gonna take the right one and I will take this one.- Told Mary matter of fact nudging her two frozen sons so they would get to work.
All Castiel did was nod.
And so that's how the Winchesters began their quest of straightening feathers and smoothening them down. The feathers were the softest thing that either human had ever touched in their lives and despite the craving of wanting to bury their hands into it and enjoy all the softness of it to its full extent none of them dared to act on their cravings for it.
All they focused on was on smoothening the feathers down.
It amazed Sam to get to see angel feathers attached to the wing. How the fact that the rachis wielded the thinnest blueish trails that could be seen if one knew what to look for. The colors itself were so vibrant and almost metallic it still left him feeling overwhelmed to be in the presence of something so pure and divine. That he was touching it.
Mary for her side found this situation to be a great show of trust from Castiel towards them and an incredible honor to be allowed to help into making this gorgeous sight become even more breathtaking. She had a feeling they were and would be the first and last humans to ever have such a sight from an angel.
Meanwhile all Dean could do was both marvel at the colors and ponder why the hell were they so rainbowish.
-Why are they this color? I mean, they look friggin' awesome don't get me wrong but I thought angels were suppose to have white wings?- Dean's question got Castiel shrugging.
-In Heaven angels either have white wings or black wings. Archangels are the ones who hold other colors due these ones being the first to be created therefore God could allow Himself to make them as vibrant as He wanted. Michael were similar to liquefied silver. Raphael's were the deepest shade of purple there was. Lucifer's the lightest shade of blue toppling over the edge of blinding white. And Gabriel's were the most stunning shade of gold the world could ever imagine.
-You are not an archangel.- Sam sounded doubtful of his own words despite the fact that it was logical thinking that Cas was not an archangel.
-No. But I am the last angel God ever made so I guess He thought it would be some kind of mark to signal He was done making angels or something I'm not sure.
All Castiel knew is that his feathers were for some reason all the possible colors and so vibrant it was impossible to not bring attention to himself.
It had been irritating to an extent therefore he hid his wings.
-The last one of them all? Doesn't that make you like Heaven's baby angel?- Asked Dean with a teasing grin. Castiel turned to look at him over his shoulder with a deadpanned look.
-Dean I have been alive before the first fish left the sea or the dinosaurs came to be at all. I am certainly not a baby.
-The littlest angel in the garrison.- Said Dean in return which got Castiel frowning and turning his head back to the front choosing to ignore him.
Dean was gonna say something else but mom gave him a disapproving look despite the fact that she was smiling slightly at the idea of Heaven's youngest angel having ended up with her boys.
Silence went on for a while as the Winchesters focused on the task at hand and Castiel felt it to almost be lulling the feeling of fingers preening his wings.
And then Sam found the first one.
Something he had gotten to find out about while researching about molting and its complications and whatsoever.
Stress bars.
There was a line running across one of Cas' feathers that didn't match at all with the patterns of colors and looked almost like an insult to the feather in general.
He had read that these were caused when the bird was stressed during molting which lead to the feathers not being able to develop properly.
And now that he looked closely there were a few more and the sight of those felt so wrong he found himself voicing it out.
-Cas these feathers... Did this happen when we went hunting last time?- He couldn't help but ask. The wings twitched and a few feathers bristled almost like a spooked cat.
-Yes... But my grace will get rid of the damage when it goes back to its full strength. Even so they won't affect my ability to fly you don't need to worry.
-I'm sorry.
-You don't need to apologize either. I have gotten worse. And I did it to protect you, it was my choice you have nothing to blame yourself for.
That did nothing to quell Sam's guilt.
It felt almost sacrilegious to be the cause of those horrid lines insulting something so divine and majestic.
•••••••••
Castiel almost fell asleep a few times and it got more difficult with each passing minute to keep his wings up. His head was resting on his crossed arms which he had propped on the back of the chair a while ago and he was almost drifting off when Mary's soft voice reached his ears.
-Cas? Hey, we are done.
That raised Castiel from his slumber state with a mutter before remembering Enochian was not English.
-Thank you.
-No problem. You need something else?- Asked Sam which got him a negative and having Castiel looking so at the verge of falling asleep was without a doubt an hilarious sight.
-No. I would like to sleep now.
-You can't sleep on the chair.- Told Dean as he saw the angel had the definitive intention of sleeping on the chair.
