May 7, 1988
"Sammy, I said stay down! It's too high for you!" Dean peered down at his brother through the gap between his arm and the ladder.
Sam stubbornly kept his hands on the ladder while he glared a challenge up at Dean. One foot rose to the first rung.
"Sam..." Dean warned.
Very slowly, Sam's foot returned to the bare dirt. He let go of the ladder and backed up a couple steps, pushing out his lower lip. Fine. He could sulk all he wanted, as long as he stayed down.
Once he was sure Sam would stay put, Dean scrambled from the ladder to the roof of the shed. His stomach fluttered strangely when he stood up – it seemed a whole heck of a lot higher from up here than it had from the ground. But he couldn't let Sam see him afraid.
With a deep breath to calm his nerves, he moved carefully to the edge of the shingled roof and raised to his full nine-year-old height. The threadbare bath towel that was clothes-pinned around his neck flapped weakly behind him in the breeze. The air also stirred the red and yellow paper "S" he'd carefully drawn with markers and stapled to his shirt.
Fists on his hips, Superman surveyed the city of Metropolis, spread out before him. The city was peaceful in the morning light. But suddenly, his super hearing picked up a distant cry for help. Someone in the city needed him!
"This looks like a job for Superman!" he shouted. Thrusting one fist forward, he leaped off the roof to fly up, up, and away, but instead dropped down, down, to the ground.
The impact jarred his ankles and knees, and he scuffed his palms in the dirt. It took a second for him to catch his breath at the surprise of how fast he'd fallen.
"Whoa," he laughed shakily. "That was probably dumb."
He turned to grin at Sam, but his brother wasn't where he'd just been a minute ago. "Sam?"
"Me, too, Dean! I can fly, too, see?"
Dean's stomach dropped to his feet when he looked up to see Sam at the edge of the roof he'd just jumped from, wearing his own towel cape and a yellow and black paper bat on his chest. "Sammy, NO! Get down from there!"
His heart stopped cold as his baby brother jumped off the shed. Horrified, Dean could only watch him plummet to the ground. Sam landed in a heap with an ear-splitting shriek of pain.
"Sammy!" Dean cried, rushing to his side.
Sam wailed, fat tears rolling down his face. Dean put his hands on Sam's shoulders to hold him still while he tried to figure out what was hurt.
There was blood on Sammy's chin and palms where he'd scraped them on the ground, but his arm was more alarming. It was bent weird, and in one too many places.
"Holy crap, Sammy, you broke your arm!" Dean went a little faint at the sight of it. He swallowed hard.
Sam just cried louder, taking big, gulping breaths between howls.
Suddenly, Dean realized they were completely alone. It was Saturday, so Dad was gone, either at work or more likely passed out drunk somewhere. They lived a long way from town and Dad's paranoia meant they didn't have a phone. Panic crawled up under his skin. How was he going to get help? He was supposed to take care of Sammy, but now he was hurt bad and it was all Dean's fault.
Immobilized by fear, he stared down at his baby brother. He felt sick.
And then his panicked mind seized on an idea. Castiel! Maybe the angel could help.
Squeezing his eyes closed, Dean dropped his head and prayed as hard as he could, pleading for Castiel to come fix Sammy.
Sam's cries abruptly stopped, his teary eyes going huge as he stared at something over Dean's shoulder. "Dean?" he whimpered, grabbing at his brother's shirt with his good hand, tearing the paper "S".
Dean turned, relief washing through him and driving tears to blur his eyes. He blinked them away to focus on the angel standing over them, looking fierce and wild with his dark wings spread wide. His face was screwed up in... pain? Confusion? Dean couldn't tell, but it didn't matter. Only Sammy mattered.
"Sam broke his arm! Can you heal him?"
Castiel cocked his head, staring at Dean like he was speaking Greek. Slowly, his intense gaze traveled down to where Sam huddled against Dean.
"Please?" Dean begged.
The angel's bright blue eyes met Dean's again. For a second, he didn't do anything, and Dean was afraid he wasn't going to help Sam after all. But then the angel blinked and nodded slightly.
The tears of relief pushed at the backs of Dean's eyes again and he blinked them back hard. He shifted to the side to give the angel room, still keeping reassuring hands on his brother's shoulders. "It's okay, Sammy. This is Castiel, a friend. Just let him help you. Everything's okay now."
Castiel took a step closer, and Sammy flinched, whimpering in fear. The angel stepped back again, glancing at Dean before folding his wings neatly to his back and lowering himself to his knees in the dirt. He crawled forward, far less scary-looking down at Sam's level, despite the ragged pants and long, tangled hair.
Stopping in front of Sam, the angel looked him over, eyes traveling to the bloody scrapes and finally landing on the unnatural angle of his arm. He reached out and gently touched a finger to the swelling skin near the break, and Sam whined at the pain. Castiel carefully moved his hand to Sammy's tear-streaked cheek and closed his eyes.
Sammy made a surprised noise and his eyes went big as the healing energy began to flow. Dean watched, fascinated by the focus on Castiel's face and the strange, almost electrical feel of power moving under his own skin, even though it was Sam he was healing, not Dean. Castiel's halo didn't flicker like it had when he'd healed Dean's leg, instead shimmering steadily around his head, nearly invisible in the sunlight.
After a tense moment, Castiel released the breath he'd been holding and let his hand drop from Sam's stunned and now unmarked face. Sam's expression of awe made Dean realize this was the first time his brother had ever seen an angel up close – their dad had made sure of that. He gave Sammy a reassuring squeeze around the shoulders.
"You okay, Sammy?" he asked.
Sam's wide eyes never left Castiel's face, but he nodded silently in answer.
Dean grinned at the angel. "Thank you!"
Castiel glanced from Dean to Sam and back again. A little frown line appeared between his brows, but he nodded once, slowly.
"Um, yeah," Dean continued. Nervousness pierced through the relief and gratitude, making him itch to fill the silence. "My dad's not here. We'd've been toast if you hadn't come. I wasn't even sure you'd be able to hear me."
The frown line deepened as Castiel stared at him with narrow eyes. "Hear you?"
"Yeah. When I prayed for you."
Castiel's feathers raised, spiking upward. "What did you say to me?" he hissed.
"Um. I prayed for you?"
Castiel's body arched forward and his blue eyes blazed. The black wings flared menacingly. Dean shrank back in surprise, pulling Sammy closer.
"You prayed...for me." Castiel snarled, his wings arching even higher. "How dare you? You can't pray for me!"
"But you came..." Dean argued weakly. He didn't understand why the angel was so angry.
Castiel's burning eyes faltered in their glare for an instant, then pinned Dean again. "You expect me to be at your beck and call like some angel? I'm no one's pet," he spat, lip curling in disgust.
"That's not—" Dean stopped and shook his head. "Nobody thinks that! Angels aren't pets."
Castiel shoved himself to his feet, limbs rigid in his rage. "I'm no angel."
"Well, if you're not an angel, then how did you heal Sam?" Dean argued. "And why did you come if you didn't hear my prayer?"
Shock fizzled the furious tension in Castiel's body. His shoulders slowly drooped until his wingtips dragged the ground. His mouth went slack as he stared wide-eyed at Dean in confusion. "What?"
"Castiel, why did you come here?"
Fear flickered behind the blue eyes. "I... I don't know."
Dean asked again, softly, "If you didn't hear me, then how did you know we needed you?"
"I... felt you. I felt Sam's pain and your fear. Your desperation." Castiel's wings shuddered and drew in tightly against his back, making him seem smaller than he was. "I had to come."
The distress on his face made Dean's big brother instincts kick in, driving him to try to comfort Castiel. "I'm glad you did. I let Sammy get hurt, and you fixed him."
Castiel didn't answer, apparently lost in his turmoil.
Dean stood up, offering a hand to pull Sammy up, too. He dusted off his knees, then gave his brother a quick once over to be sure all his hurts were mended. When he looked back, Castiel still stood with his fists clenched and devastation on his face. Dean took a step closer, but stopped when Castiel's startled eyes snapped up to his face and his wings opened again, as if he were about to fly away.
"Castiel?" he said quietly. "Look, without you, Sammy would have been hurt really bad. So thanks."
"I'm not an angel," Castiel repeated with a desperate note in his voice.
"It doesn't matter to me if you are or not. You helped me and you helped Sam, and that makes you my friend," Dean told him.
The great wings quivered in the air as Castiel stood frozen in front of him. The uncertainty that rippled over his face would almost have been funny if it were something Dean were watching on TV. As it was, it wasn't funny at all. Finally, Castiel's expression darkened into a scowl and the feathers along the arches of his wings spiked up again aggressively.
"No!" he growled. "No! It's your fault I'm here! You humans and your angels. I shouldn't be helping you. You're all monsters!"
And with a snap of feathers, Castiel disappeared. Dean stared at the spot where he'd been, utterly confused. If Castiel wasn't an angel, then what was he? He'd thought the boy with wings was his friend, but now he didn't know what to think. He was stunned to hear that Castiel apparently hated him, and that thought...hurt.
Sammy tugged at Dean's sleeve. "Dean?"
Dean looked down to his brother's face, still marked with dried tear tracks. He rubbed a thumb over Sam's cheek, trying to wipe away the evidence of Dean's failure to protect him. "Yeah, Sammy?"
"C-Cas-ti-el is your friend?"
Dean unhooked the clothes pins, releasing their makeshift capes from their backs. He pulled the torn Superman emblem from his shirt and crumpled it up. He had no business pretending to be Superman anyway. "He helped me before. Twice. You were little."
Sam looked up at him with worried hazel eyes. "Why was he mad at you? Who- What is he?"
He put a hand on his brother's shoulder and steered him back toward the house to get cleaned up for lunch. "I don't know, Sammy. I got no idea anymore."