asphaltcowgrrl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asphaltcowgrrl) wrote2017-08-16 03:52 pm
asphaltcowgrrl) wrote2017-08-16 03:52 pm
Entry tags:
Feathers (Supernatural Fic)
Title: Feather
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Gen, Dean Winchester+Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 818
Summary: Castiel finds the only feather left from his wings.
Author’s Note: Sparked by this prompt: All that I had left of my wings was a single, solitary feather. Blossomed into life after watching episode 12.12 Stuck in the Middle (With You) the other night. This episode almost broke me (especially coming right on the heels of 12.11 Regarding Dean). Near the end when Castiel says, “I love you. I love all of you,” I lost it. While I miss the days of Innocent Cas, I do love his more self-aware moments.
Miss Dreamy, I hope this lives up to what you were hoping for. <3
He looked towards the sky as it floated downwards towards his face. Reaching out a hand, Castiel swiped the feather from the air and held it out. Its color and texture were more than familiar to him, they were a part of his very being, burned forever into his soul.
Wait, do angels even have souls? He wasn’t sure. But this feather, it was one of his. The only remaining evidence the he’d ever had wings. A sad reminder of the angel that he’d once been.
“Hey,” Dean said, swiping the feather from Castiel, “cool lookin’ feather, Cas. Where’d you find it? I bet it came from that eagle we saw earlier.”
Unsure of where to start with Dean’s line of questioning, Castiel shrugged. Under normal circumstances, he’d have found that feather attached to his back, embedded in one of his wings. However, his wings had gone the way of the dinosaurs. Extinct. Some believing they’d never truly existed in the first place.
“It is mine, Dean,” Castiel said, holding out his hand, palm up. He could feel his fingers tremble. “May I have it back?”
“Can’t I keep it,” he asked, glancing at the feather he held, twirling it slowly. “You have to have more than this, man.”
Cas’ mouth turned down in a frown, considering Dean’s words. Incapable of articulating the pain of losing his wings, he opted for another route. He tilted his head to the side and studied the elder Winchester. “Why would you want to keep it, Dean?”
Dean shrugged and held the feather out to Castiel. “Dunno. Just… I dunno, but I felt like I had to ask.” Dean points the tip of the feather in Castiel’s direction, giving it a slight wave. “Here, take it,” he said, sounding almost ashamed of himself. Almost, but not quite, because while Dean gave into a lot of things, he never gave into shame.
His bright blue eyes dip towards the piece of him being clutched between Dean’s thumb and forefinger. The gentle but firm way Dean holds the shaft stirs something in Cas’ brain, warms his insides. Shaking off the half-formed thoughts, he forces himself to meet his friend’s gaze.
“No, Dean,” Castiel says softly, taking the offered feather. He flattens Dean’s fingers out so that his palm is laid bare between them. Gently, he rests his last feather across Dean’s exposed skin, bending the pliant fingers over the shaft until they covered the feather, protecting it from the elements, from harm.
Glancing down at the bit of plumage sticking out the sides of his closed fist, Dean sighs. “Are you sure,” he asks, eyes moving between the angel and the piece of heavenly being he’s holding. “It’s yours. I mean, it’s yours, yours. Not just like you found it or something and –”
“Dean,” Castiel says, interrupting him before he can get going down the path of no return. For a man of few words, Dean could certainly babble with the best of them. It was oddly endearing. “I’m positive.”
“Well, thank you,” Dean fumbles, tucking the solitary feather into an interior pocket of his jacket. Giving the secret hideaway a pat, he nods. “It’ll be safe there.”
Right next to his heart, Castiel thinks, unsure of where the thought came from or what it meant, exactly. But he knew without a doubt no harm would ever come to that piece of him Dean carried. “I trust you, Dean,” he said.
A confused smile flickered onto, then off of, Dean’s face. “Alrighty then,” he said, clapping the angel on the back, sullying the moment they’d shared. “Where the hell is Sam? We’ve gotta get this show on the road if we’re going to make Michigan by nightfall.”
Dean sauntered off in the direction of the Impala, calling out Sam’s name. Castiel tore his eyes off Dean’s bowlegged gait and turned his gaze back onto the sky, searching for something he couldn’t name. A soft but firm hand landed on his shoulder, startling him.
“C’mon, Cas,” Sam said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Dean’s on a rampage and threatening to leave without us if we don’t hurry.”
There’d been a time when that wouldn’t have spurred Castiel into action. But now, without his wings, without any powers, he was at the mercy of the mercurial Dean Winchester. “Tell Dean I will be right there, Sam.”
“Will do,” Sam said, walking off towards the sound of his brother’s voice.
He stood a moment longer, listening to the sounds of the night, wondering why it had been so important for Dean to have that feather. After all they’d been through, with all the magical items they’d procured, why this one feather?
“Cas,” Dean hollered. “Train’s leavin’.”
Why now?
“Coming,” he yelled back at Dean. Maybe later, he could ask Sam. But maybe he’d simply let it be for now. It was, after all, only a feather.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Gen, Dean Winchester+Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 818
Summary: Castiel finds the only feather left from his wings.
Author’s Note: Sparked by this prompt: All that I had left of my wings was a single, solitary feather. Blossomed into life after watching episode 12.12 Stuck in the Middle (With You) the other night. This episode almost broke me (especially coming right on the heels of 12.11 Regarding Dean). Near the end when Castiel says, “I love you. I love all of you,” I lost it. While I miss the days of Innocent Cas, I do love his more self-aware moments.
Miss Dreamy, I hope this lives up to what you were hoping for. <3
He looked towards the sky as it floated downwards towards his face. Reaching out a hand, Castiel swiped the feather from the air and held it out. Its color and texture were more than familiar to him, they were a part of his very being, burned forever into his soul.
Wait, do angels even have souls? He wasn’t sure. But this feather, it was one of his. The only remaining evidence the he’d ever had wings. A sad reminder of the angel that he’d once been.
“Hey,” Dean said, swiping the feather from Castiel, “cool lookin’ feather, Cas. Where’d you find it? I bet it came from that eagle we saw earlier.”
Unsure of where to start with Dean’s line of questioning, Castiel shrugged. Under normal circumstances, he’d have found that feather attached to his back, embedded in one of his wings. However, his wings had gone the way of the dinosaurs. Extinct. Some believing they’d never truly existed in the first place.
“It is mine, Dean,” Castiel said, holding out his hand, palm up. He could feel his fingers tremble. “May I have it back?”
“Can’t I keep it,” he asked, glancing at the feather he held, twirling it slowly. “You have to have more than this, man.”
Cas’ mouth turned down in a frown, considering Dean’s words. Incapable of articulating the pain of losing his wings, he opted for another route. He tilted his head to the side and studied the elder Winchester. “Why would you want to keep it, Dean?”
Dean shrugged and held the feather out to Castiel. “Dunno. Just… I dunno, but I felt like I had to ask.” Dean points the tip of the feather in Castiel’s direction, giving it a slight wave. “Here, take it,” he said, sounding almost ashamed of himself. Almost, but not quite, because while Dean gave into a lot of things, he never gave into shame.
His bright blue eyes dip towards the piece of him being clutched between Dean’s thumb and forefinger. The gentle but firm way Dean holds the shaft stirs something in Cas’ brain, warms his insides. Shaking off the half-formed thoughts, he forces himself to meet his friend’s gaze.
“No, Dean,” Castiel says softly, taking the offered feather. He flattens Dean’s fingers out so that his palm is laid bare between them. Gently, he rests his last feather across Dean’s exposed skin, bending the pliant fingers over the shaft until they covered the feather, protecting it from the elements, from harm.
Glancing down at the bit of plumage sticking out the sides of his closed fist, Dean sighs. “Are you sure,” he asks, eyes moving between the angel and the piece of heavenly being he’s holding. “It’s yours. I mean, it’s yours, yours. Not just like you found it or something and –”
“Dean,” Castiel says, interrupting him before he can get going down the path of no return. For a man of few words, Dean could certainly babble with the best of them. It was oddly endearing. “I’m positive.”
“Well, thank you,” Dean fumbles, tucking the solitary feather into an interior pocket of his jacket. Giving the secret hideaway a pat, he nods. “It’ll be safe there.”
Right next to his heart, Castiel thinks, unsure of where the thought came from or what it meant, exactly. But he knew without a doubt no harm would ever come to that piece of him Dean carried. “I trust you, Dean,” he said.
A confused smile flickered onto, then off of, Dean’s face. “Alrighty then,” he said, clapping the angel on the back, sullying the moment they’d shared. “Where the hell is Sam? We’ve gotta get this show on the road if we’re going to make Michigan by nightfall.”
Dean sauntered off in the direction of the Impala, calling out Sam’s name. Castiel tore his eyes off Dean’s bowlegged gait and turned his gaze back onto the sky, searching for something he couldn’t name. A soft but firm hand landed on his shoulder, startling him.
“C’mon, Cas,” Sam said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Dean’s on a rampage and threatening to leave without us if we don’t hurry.”
There’d been a time when that wouldn’t have spurred Castiel into action. But now, without his wings, without any powers, he was at the mercy of the mercurial Dean Winchester. “Tell Dean I will be right there, Sam.”
“Will do,” Sam said, walking off towards the sound of his brother’s voice.
He stood a moment longer, listening to the sounds of the night, wondering why it had been so important for Dean to have that feather. After all they’d been through, with all the magical items they’d procured, why this one feather?
“Cas,” Dean hollered. “Train’s leavin’.”
Why now?
“Coming,” he yelled back at Dean. Maybe later, he could ask Sam. But maybe he’d simply let it be for now. It was, after all, only a feather.