Summary: His wings always seemed to be the problem, Castiel figured. But when he and his family move to Sioux Falls and he meets a Beast locked away in a castle, could his wings be the solution? Dean/Cas, Sam/Gabriel, Adam/Michael; fusion with Beauty and the Beast

Words in Chapter: 2888

AN: Here it is. The greatly anticipated (for all of a few hours) chapter one. For the record, here is the casting list: Castiel is Belle, Dean is the Beast, Sam is Codsworth, Gabriel is Lumiere, Adam is a teacup, and Lucifer is (sort of) Gaston. And now that you guys have all of the pertinent info, on with the show. And thank you to my beautiful, talented, completely narcissistic beta Delu.

I Am No Angel

Chapter One: How do you keep your feet on the ground

When you know that you were born to fly?

-"Born to Fly" Sara Evans

Castiel was weird. Everyone in the small town his family now lived in knew that it was so. It had been much easier to remain somewhat anonymous in the large city they had come from. In Lawrence, if he never went out and spent all of his time reading unorthodox books, then he was called eccentric. Since they now lived in Sioux Falls – and working outside in the full view of the public was required as a part of their lowered status – Castiel was seen as the freak with wings.

Of course, no one came out and told him that. Actually, everyone was suspiciously nice to him. They called him Angel and treated him as such. All Castiel felt when they did this, however, was a creeping loneliness more oppressive than when he was sequestered away with his books. Here, in this new place, his isolation wasn't by choice but by virtue of what the townspeople thought he was, and the difference was startlingly clear to him.

Unable to do anything about it (for to disabuse this notion was to invite other claims of witchcraft and demonic worship), Castiel went about his business tending the neighbor's fields alongside his wingless brother, Michael; his father worked miscellaneous jobs, being too old to be of much use in the fields. When he had time, he tried to cultivate new hobbies to replace the great amount of time he had spent reading, as there was no library in their new, much smaller town. This was easier said than done, however, as he tried a multitude of activities with the result being that he either was no good at them or did not particularly enjoy them. After a disastrous attempt at knitting (there was a yarn explosion, enough said), he decided to venture outside to a setting where he would hopefully cause less damage.

Here, he discovered plants. Of course, he had known plants existed, but he had never simply sat and watched them grow before; he found them strangely fascinating. He would lie around for hours when he wasn't working and stare at the plants as they moved minutely up toward the sun. One day, he decided he wanted to watch his favorite tree grow from high up in the branches. He climbed up (and up and up) before settling in the embrace of the tree's uppermost limbs. Castiel sat there until the moon rose and he could hear his brother calling for him from their house nearby.

As he attempted to make his way down to the ground, the branch upon which he had stopped to rest broke, sending him plummeting toward the forest floor. Without conscious thought on Castiel's part, his wings snapped open to save him, catching somewhat painfully on the air beneath them and slowing his descent. Eyes wide in amazement, Castiel flapped his wings experimentally, wincing a little at the tension in the previously unused muscles, and was instantly gratified when his body jerked upward slightly before resuming its downward glide.

From that day onward, Castiel divided what free time he had between watching his plants and teaching himself to fly, the former bringing rest and relaxation greatly needed as a result of the stress caused by the latter.

Castiel had never given much thought to flying before. Of course, when he was a child, he had wanted to do so instinctively. He had brought the issue to his father who had told him in no uncertain terms that flying was not a good idea due to the chances of him being seen. Being given more toward careful thought over acts of impulse, Castiel had reasoned that he should simply not attempt it at all. Escaping into his books made him happy enough as it was, and since going out into the city wasn't safe for him, he didn't risk it. In the city, Castiel had neither the space nor the opportunity to even try to fly anyway, so the point was moot.

Now, he couldn't imagine how he had ever lived without it. The freedom it afforded him was better than anything he had previously imagined. Once he was proficient enough, Castiel found himself flying over the Ilchester Forest at night while his father and brother slept. It left him tired the next day but saved him from prying eyes and the gossip of the townspeople.

Castiel's twentieth birthday came and went during the planting season; as with the previous years, there was no special celebration in honor of it. Castiel didn't mind much considering he didn't like being the center of attention anyway. His family, noticing his affinity for plants, had managed to find some flower seeds and clear out a small plot on their land for him to start a garden. Castiel was thrilled in his own quiet way, even going so far as to grace them with one of his rare smiles.

He had left the house almost immediately to plant them after thanking his father and brother profusely (well, profusely for Castiel, which meant that he smiled and murmured a polite, "Thank you so very much."). Castiel dropped to his knees in the loose soil of the garden and began digging out small holes for the seeds with his hands. After he had made one row, he went back to the beginning of the row and sprinkled a few seeds in each hole before covering it over with earth. He repeated this process until all of the seeds were planted and he was completely covered in with dirt.

Dusting himself off, Castiel stood to survey his handiwork. There were sixteen new little mounds where he had planted his seeds. Castiel grinned; he had done that. Those plants would grow because of him. Joy filled him and he felt as though he might burst. His wings spread themselves of their own volition and before he knew it he was soaring over the forests in a direction he had never flown before.

As it turned out, there was a reason the villagers had suggested he not travel in that direction.

As Castiel flew over the unfamiliar stretch of forest, he spotted a soft glow emanating from a large clearing in the trees ahead of him. He didn't think this was particularly odd considering that one had to travel through these woods to get to and from the port city Providence and clearings were good spots for making camp. What was strange was the fact that the path was not even remotely close to this part of the forest and the clearing itself was huge, taking up what must amount to twenty acres of what should be forest. Being naturally curious, Castiel flew closer until he was finally able to land in front of the source of the light, only to stiffen and stare up at it in awe.

The castle rose out of the ground in front of Castiel and loomed among a curious and suddenly appearing fog. The lights Castiel had spotted were positioned in brackets on either side of an enormous metal gate, entrenched in a stone wall that stretched around the huge area covered by both the castle and the attached grounds. The iron of the gate was worked into a circular crest reminiscent of a star inscribed within a sun and Castiel, beyond all odds, recognized it. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly at the realization of just where he was.

The crest belonged to the House of Winchester – or rather the Winchester Family, a family of demon hunters that had been killed off over a hundred years before Castiel had even been born. How was the castle in such good repair when the owners had been dead for so long, Castiel wondered. He reached out and tugged at the gate in the vain hope that they would actually open.

They didn't.

He spread his wings and prepared to go in from above. He let himself drift down to the ground on the other side…

…only to be repelled by some kind of force about a yard above the line of the wall.

Castiel frowned and flew toward the castle. This time, as he was in full flight and not simply drifting, the force threw him back several feet. He noticed that the field was much higher in this area and decided to test it a bit more before flying back to the house.

After a few more run-ins with the invisible boundary, Castiel decided to give up for the night. While hurling himself against the barrier did not hurt him, it was rather disorienting, not to mention exhausting.

His inquisitive mind refused to let the matter rest, though, and he resolved to come back the next night to suss it out. As best as Castiel could figure, the Barrier (which had somehow gained a capital letter in his mind) was dome-shaped and extended from the top edge of the stone wall to cover even the top spires of the castle. Castiel knew that there were few ways such a Barrier could be erected and that if it was keeping him out, it was likely keeping someone else in.

House of Winchester

"No! Where is he going?" a voice called out in horror.

"It's an angel! They actually exist," another one murmured. "There is hope."

"But he left!" the first voice cried in indignation. "Who the fuck does he think he is, huh? He left us trapped in here."

"He did try," the second voice reasoned. "And he probably didn't even know we were here."

"Damn, you are so hot when you try to reason with me," the first voice took on a decidedly lecherous tone. "Let's have sex." If the voice had eyebrows, they would have been waggling.

"Gabriel, we've been over this at least twice a day for the last – what, one hundred and fifty years?" The second voice was exasperated. "We can't have sex while we are in these forms. It is physically impossible. We already—"

"Gah!" A third voice cut the second off. "I don't want to hear about what you 'already.' Fucking spare me. And what about Adam, huh? He's young and impressionable—"

"I'm eighteen, Dean, and that's if you don't count the time I've spent as this."

"Whatever you say, Teaspoon," the third voice sounded skeptical. "All I'm saying is that hearing about how Gabe can't keep his nubby little candlesticks off my little brother isn't exactly my cup of tea."

"God damn it, Dean! I am so fucking sick of fucking tea jokes. If I hear 'I'm a Little Teapot' one more fucking time, I'll—" the one called Adam yelled at the one called Dean at the same time as Gabriel put in, "Well, if you wanted to know that badly, yesterday my nubby little candlesticks made your brother's pendulum swing—"

"Gabriel!" all of the other voices shouted at once.

"Anyways," the second voice cleared his throat. "Dean, did you see the angel?" Everyone sobered up when they heard the question. The angel was the first hope they had had in the many long years they had been stuck there.

Dean grunted in affirmation. "Yeah, I saw him, Sammy."

Sam, whose second hand was moving just a bit quicker around his face in time to what would have been his heartbeat, prompted, "And?"

Dean's voice lowered an octave as he blurted out, "Dude, he's a he! 'Nuff said!"

"Dean—" His voice warned Dean that Sam's Bitchface was about to make an appearance. And sure enough, Sam continued, "You can't afford to be picky, Dean. You aren't the only one who's cursed. Don't be selfish."

"Sam," Dean's voice was panicked. "I'm not gay. That's not being selfish. It's just facts."

Sam sighed. "Whatever. He might not even come back anyway."

"Jeez," Gabriel's voice interrupted the tense silence that had been developing. "You guys sure know how to brighten up a room." His voice turned teasing and started moving away from the group. "Hey, Sammy, wanna play that game that ends with my wax all over the inside of your –"

"Oh my God, Gabriel," Sam huffed, but his voice followed the other's much louder one. "How many times do I have to tell you not to say shit like that before you listen?"

The sounds of their bickering grew fainter as Adam groaned and said, "I'm going to the kitchen sink to scald that image from my brain." Then, he too was gone.

Dean let out a sigh he had been holding back before muttering to himself, "I hope he comes back."

Castiel returned the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. He returned every night for weeks and attempted to break through the Barrier around the House of Winchester with absolutely no luck. He tried everything he could think of to get through. He flew straight at it and was repelled every time. He stole a sword from Michael's collection of weapons; it passed right through the Barrier, Castiel did not. In the final few days, his attempts denigrated to chucking rocks and reckless, futile nights of throwing himself bodily at the Barrier.

While his nights at the castle were full of frustration, the time he spent in the garden with his plants was anything but. Castiel relished the afternoons when he could spend hours watching his plants as they pushed their delicate stems through the soil and reached toward the sun.

One day, while he was in his garden and Michael was sitting against a nearby tree polishing his sword (the same one that Castiel had used against the Barrier), their father called out of the house to them, "Hey, ya idjits, get yer asses in here!" The brothers exchanged glances as they dusted themselves off and stood to join their father in the house.

Bobby wasn't a very refined man. It had always been somewhat of a mystery as to how he had fathered two sons as different from both himself and each other as Michael and Castiel. They were as well-mannered as any of the high-born lordlings who considered themselves above the brothers but polar opposites personality-wise. Castiel was quiet and reserved. While his presence filled a room (after all, it was hard to ignore those damn wings), Castiel himself was always remote and detached. Michael was vastly different from his brother. He was loud and his presence commanded the attention of all. If it weren't for his manners, Bobby knew that boy would be a buttload of trouble. Bobby also knew that he couldn't take credit for their pretty manners, but whatever, they caused him fewer problems than any other two idjit sons he could've had, so he wasn't complaining.

Back in the city, Bobby had owned a salvage yard for ships and carriages. It wasn't a very large business considering most damaged ships never made it back to port, but he made enough money to support himself and his sons (as well as Castiel's book addiction, and hell could that boy read) and really that was all that mattered to him.

And then Lucifer had risen.

Lucifer was a nasty piece of work. Supposedly driven mad by the death of his wife Lilith, he had gathered around him an army of demons, witches, and other supernatural creatures. Slowly he and his group had been moving around the country and demanding the surrender of anything they happened across.

When Bobby had heard that Lucifer was heading in their direction and that he had recently begun recruiting fallen angels, he had gathered up his sons and a few necessary or beloved odds and ends and moved them to the middle of bumfuck nowhere with forest surrounding it for who knows how far on all sides. He had done a pretty good job of keeping Castiel hidden when they lived in the city and he didn't intend for the kid to be taken and used as a pawn by a crazy-ass general with a chip on his shoulder.

They did need money, however, and as Castiel was stronger than any human, he made good money working on their neighbor's farm alongside his brother. It was money they couldn't afford to lose.

Money was the reason Bobby called them up to the house that evening. When his boys had settled down across from him at the table, Bobby started. "You boys remember my old friend, Rufus?" When they both nodded, he continued, "Well, he is working a job and he needs some help, so I'll be helping him out. I'll be back in two weeks, give or take. You two'll be just fine while I'm gone. Just take care of each other and try not to get yourselves killed."

Castiel was the first to speak after Bobby finished. "Of course father. We shall take care to do as you have asked."

Michael grinned at Castiel. "Don't worry, Castiel. I'll protect you." Michael cast Bobby a serious look telling him that for all that he looked as though he were teasing his younger brother (who hadn't even had the courtesy to give him the patented little brother Bitchface, instead staring back at him blankly), he was actually perfectly serious. His steady stare told Bobby that, yes, he could leave. Castiel would be fine.