#askspnbbverse

Some days were ok.

Gabriel won’t go around inventing absurd pranks far too articulated for a toddler (even though one who used to be an archangel prior the unfortunate encounter with a crazy witch). Balthazar would behave, deciding not to spend all his time trying to get to Bobby’s booze. Castiel would sit quiet on the older hunter’s knees, watching carefully as the man went through obscure and ancient texts, not once disturbed by his mischievous brothers.

Some days were ok, but most of them were nightmares.

Specifically, Dean’s nightmares.

He loved kids, sure. Since he was a child himself, Dean Winchester was used to deal with Sam, protecting, raising and nurturing him with a special care defined by a natural inclination, more than the obligation to do it. And, once grown up, the hunter kept this trait, using it every time the occasion presented itself.

But he never imagined to stay stuck in a situation like that, with three mighty angel reduced to nothing more than little winged children.

Also, he didn’t imagined to be the only one with the useful abilities to accomplish the task to keep the three kids at bay.

Sure, Sam and Bobby were in the same situation, too, but he was the only one knowing how to coax the children to stay quiet thanks to an animated movie, or convincing them to eat something else other than junk food, or finding new ways to tire them enough to make them sleep for eight hours straight.

So, it was completely rational that when the occasion to leave behind all the mess caused by the winged kids for a few days presented itself, Dean jumped on it with no second thoughts.

It was a ghost, a simple salt and burn just a couple of states away.

He didn’t even let Bobby finish his talking, he just said he’ll take care of it and rushed on the stairs to his room, eager to pack and get on the road.

Dean was stuffing some clothes in his duffle bag when he heard a little voice coming from the doorframe.

“Dean.”

The hunter turned around, finding Castiel, blue eyes wide and pointed on him, who probably followed him upstairs just few minutes before.

“Hey, kiddo.”  he greeted, getting back on his task.

“Where are we going?” the little angel asked, tightening the grip of his chubby hands on the worn fabric of his trench coat.

Dean stopped his movements, turning again to face the toddler “Uh, we aren’t going anywhere.”

“Then why are you packing?” Castiel retorted, tilting his head on the side.

“Because I have to go away. Just for few days.” added hurriedly, with a second thought that maybe the child could had start crying with such answer.

“Are we leaving Bobby’s?- Cas asked again, a little frown creasing his soft features- I like it here.”

Dean sighed heavily  “We are not leaving, Castiel. Just me.”

The little voice cracked a bit while posing the next question “Are you going to leave us?”

“I’m not be gone long.- the hunter explained, his tone soft- Just a couple of days.”

Castiel seemed to consider those words “Can I come with you?”

“No, buddy. It’s a grown-ups thing.”

“I am an angel of the Lord, Dean.” the winged child declared, with a seriousness in his voice too strong to belong to someone whose height didn’t permit him to sit on a chair without first climbing on it.

“Yeah, sure.- Dean huffed a laugh, before ruffling the kid’s hair- Maybe next time, ok?”

Castiel didn’t argued more about his departure.

His brothers, on the contrary, were being much less collaborative.

It took them a lot of coaxing and using the distracting technique of putting on a Disney movie in order for them to leave Dean alone.

The younger angel, anyway, didn’t follow them.

He just stayed next to the door, dirty trench coat hanging from his hands like a security blanket.

He didn’t speak. He just stared at the older Winchester with wide and oh-so-sad eyes.

“You’ll be fine, Castiel.- Dean assured him again- There’re Sam and Bobby, they’ll take care of you.”

As if proving this point, Sam lifted the child, placing him on his hip and posing a reassuring hand on his little back.

Even if the physical contact with the younger Winchester seemed appreciated by the angel, his face still had the expression of a kicked puppy.

Dean sighed heavily for the umpteen time that morning, then placed a hand on Cas’ dark hair  “Look, when I’ll be back, we are going to eat burgers.”

The kid stared at him hopefully “Really?”

“Really.- the hunter smiled at him- Now be a good boy and let me leave. I’ll be back in no time, you’re not even going to miss me.”

  Castiel waited.

He waited curled near the door, crayons sprayed on the floor and a notebook with colored pages in his hands.  

For the whole day, he refused to go and play with his brothers. He just sit there, busying himself drawing Enochian sigils on the empty pages of his notebook while waiting for his favorite person’s return.

For Bobby and Sam was easy forgetting about him, way too busy running after Gabriel and Balthazar, trying to prevent some of their tremendous messes. The usual quiet Castiel, gone even quieter since Dean’s departure, was left alone all day, except for the occasional check of the passing hunters, praising him by ruffling his hair for being the only one sane in that house.  

It was only during dinner, while Sam was scolding Gabriel for eating like a starved animal, that Bobby noticed something was off with the younger angel.

“Why don’t ya eat, boy?” he asked, eyeing the untouched food in his plate.

Castiel continued playing absent-mindedly with his paper napkin “Dean promised me we are going to eat burgers when he’ll come back. I rather wait for him.”

Sam stopped his battle against the little trickster  hearing that “Cas, Dean isn’t going to be back tonight.”

The dark haired angel frowned “If he’ll be back during my bed time than I’m going to wait for him.”

“I’m sorry Cas, but he’s not coming back today.- the younger Winchester gave him a sympathetic smile- This case is going to take a couple of days, maybe something more.”

“He’s not coming back?” asked the boy, eyes wide and fearful.

Sam regretted immediately his choice of words “He is! Just, not today.”

“But he promised!- Castiel protested, highly alarmed, wings flapping uncontrollably behind his back- He  promised me!”

Bobby stood up and took the little angel in his arms, attempting to calm him.

“Is Dean really gone forever?” asked Balthazar, his tone matching his brother’s.

Gabriel looked back and forth the two hunters, equally upset “Did he abandon us?”

Bobby sighed, before heading for the door, still with an agitated Castiel in his arms “You deal with them, I’ll try to calm down this idjit.”

It took more than half an hour to Bobby for calm Castiel down, but it drained him so much that the old hunter refused to help preparing the angels for the night.

When Gabriel and Balthazar were ready, waiting for the bed time while watching a Pixar movie, Sam thought about talking again to Castiel about his little tantrum.

The younger Winchester approached him again on the subject while bathing him.

“Hey Cas?”

Wide blue eyes stared back at him, wary.

“You know Dean is going to be back, don’t you?”

The little boy didn’t answer, just kept watching the man while he passed a soft soaped sponge over his milky skin.

“He just needed a break, you know?- Sam kept explaining, voice soft- Sometimes everyone needs some time for themselves, to clear his thoughts and stuff.”

“Why did Dean need time alone?- Castiel asked, voice small while he played with some bubbles in the bathtub- Don’t he like to stay with us?”

Sam rinsed his soaped hair “Of course he does. He just missed the job.”

“He didn’t want me with him” the angel mumbled, a little sad.

“You know you guys can’t do what you did before, now.- the hunter caressed the child head affectionately-  He just wanted for you to stay safe.”

Castiel didn’t answer, and Sam took him out of the bathtub and started drying him with a washcloth “Look, I swear Dean is coming back soon. Tomorrow we’ll try to call him and he’ll tell you himself. How does it sound?”

The angel blinked his incredibly blue eyes at him, the closed he was gonna get to a positive answer.

Sam took it, hoping his brother would be back sooner rather than later.

  They never touched that subject again.

The next day Castiel seemed calmer, meaning he was his usual quiet self, even though he kept doing his activity near the door, waiting.

Bobby and Sam checked on him often, worried about his reaction the previous day, but although the little angel seemed more contemplative than usual, they shrugged it off, that behavior obviously connected with him missing Dean.

As promised, Sam tried to call his brother, multiple times, with no success. His calls were going straight to voicemail. The younger Winchester wasn’t too worried about that, what worried him, however, was the way the dark haired angel would face that information.

Contrary to his and Bobby’s believes, Castiel seemed to take the fact that he couldn’t speak with Dean on the phone quite well: he just nodded curtly towards them and then went back to his crayons.

“He took it better than I expected.” Bobby commented, grabbing Balthazar by the waist in order to remove him from the counter where he climbed in one of his ‘stealing booze’ attempts.

Sam nodded slowly “Yeah. I guess the little talk we had yesterday was enough to reassure him.”

All in all the ‘second day without Dean’ was going quite well.

That was, until the ‘second night without Dean’ came and with it came its craziness.

That night Sam woke up, after just a couple of hours of sleep, to a weight on his belly and when he jumped up, hunter’s instincts on high alert, he found his arms full of Gabriel.

“Gabriel?- he asked, worried by the tears rolling down the usually cocky child’s cheek- What’s wrong?”

“C-castiel is…is missing!” the little archangel cried, hands fisted in his t-shirt.

If Sam was on alert before, after that statement was undoubtedly concerned “What do you mean? He was sleeping in your nest with you and Balth. I saw him sleeping.”

Gabriel sniffed noisily “He’s not here anymore. We searched, Sam, he’s not in the house.”

As for confirming that it was not one the kids’ usual pranks, Bobby stepped in the room carrying an equally anxious Balthazar. The older hunter probably had the same wake up call as Sam.

The two men looked at each other, eyes mirroring the same fear, and then began to plan their moves.

  The hunt was easy.

A simple salt-and-burn, just what he expected.

What was not easy, even if it was the main reason he left Bobby’s, was staying away from the kids.

Dean never expected to actually miss all that mess, the shouts and the noises, but he did. He missed Balthazar creative plans to get to Bobby’s booze and even Gabriel unrestrained exuberance.

But, most of all, he missed Castiel and how the angel, even if small and vulnerable, always seemed to try to take care of all of them.

Even if he’ll never admit it, especially to Sam, he was glad to be on his way to the thing in his life most resembling a home.

Dean was already with the Impala’s wheel in his hands, when he turned on his cellphone, newly provided  with a new battery, after the previous one decided to stop working just when he arrived in the town of the hunt.

The hunter frowned, reading the messages on the screen, and then dialed his brother’s number “Dude, what’s going on? I found, like, seventeen missed call from you on my cellphone. My battery died, I had to change it and...”

Sam didn’t let him finish “Dean, Cas is missing.”

“What do you mean Cas is missing?” Dean asked, straightening himself on the driving seat.

“I mean is missing.- Sam repeated slowly, voice full of concern- We searched everywhere, we can’t find him.”

The older Winchester took a deep breath, trying to not freak out “Maybe is one of Gabe and Balth’s pranks. You know them and you know Cas, maybe they convinced him to participate in this and…”

“No.- the other hunter cut him off immediately- They’re way too worried for that, Dean. They’re actually crying thinking something bad could had happened to him.”

“Look, I’ll be there in a couple of hours. Where are you searching for him?” Dean asked, feeling his anxiety starting to swell up.

“Literally everywhere. I’m looking in whole Bobby’s propriety now, you know all the bunch of crap he keeps, maybe he’s hidden somewhere here. I’m also going through the nearby fields. I don’t think he ventured in the city, or by now we’ve heard about a winged kid found there.”

Dean gazed in the darkening street “It’s getting cold outside. Please, tell me he has a jacket.”

“No. He’s also barefoot, that’s way I’m so worried: you know they don’t have any of their angel mojo, he could get sick or…” Sam couldn’t finish the sentence.

“We’ll think about it when we’ll find him.- the older brother couldn’t let himself thinking to the worse- You keep searching, I’ll be there in no time.”

“Hurry. Bobby has to stay with Gabe and Balth and I definitely need some help here.”

  It was morning when Dean was back at Sioux Falls and, by then, Castiel was missing for more than seven hours.

Dean was welcomed home by a concerned Bobby and two crying angels. The older hunter pointed him in the direction where Sam was searching and the older Winchester left the house immediately, starting his own quest.

He knew those places by heart, memories of all the time he spent there with his brothers when they were kids, and he was well aware of all the possible threats hiding there for a little boy unused to the world.

What if Cas ventured towards the road and an inattentive driver hit him, shrugging the whole fact off when, seeing his black wings, mistanken him with a too big sparrow?

What if a demon found him? What kind of awful thing could thought a demon with a baby angel for himself?

Dean shook his head, trying to erase those terrible scenarios, focusing himself in finding Cas, possibly safe and sound, maybe chasing after a honeybee.

He remembered the pond where Sam almost drowned when he was six the same time he saw its outline in the morning fog, and it was enough to add another wave of panic to the one he was already living.

What if Cas fell in there? Was he able to swim and get out? Or the weight of his wet wings had him sinking, alone and desperate, in the cold water?

Dean hurried, every possible scenario way too terrible to think of, and then was when he saw a tan trench coat with the corner of his eyes.

The object was way too familiar to be mistaken.

“Cas!” he called, while picking up the kid’ security blanket, for the umpteen time since he started his search.

He didn’t expect an answer, but he got it anyway.

A weak voice reached him from not too far.

“Dean?”

The older Winchester halted on the spot “Cas?”

“Dean?” the voice called again, small and alive.

Dean found himself running towards him, trench coat still firmly in his hand, till he finally –finally!- found a trembling and pale little angel tucked against the trunk of a tree.

“Cas.” the hunter exhaled, voice full of relief, while he knelt near the winged child in order to check him over.

“God, you’re freezing.” Dean whispered, shrugging his jacket off his shoulder and placing it gently around the kid’s little frame.

He took him up, his grip strong as if he was afraid the angel could disappear again.

“What the hell were  you thinking, Cas?- Dean scolded him- Going around by yourself in the middle of the night! We were going crazy looking for you.”

Castiel didn’t answer, blue eyes locked downward and fingers tight around the torn fabric of his newly found trench coat.

“Did you hear me?- the hunter asked again- Why did you do that?”

The angel mumbled under his breath “I was trying to find you.”

“Trying to find me?- the older Wincheder repeated, incredulous- I wasn’t missing, Cas, I was on a hunt!”

“But you were gone.” Castiel pointed out, his voice meek.

Dean rolled his eyes, irritated “For God’sake, Cas, it was just an hunt, I was coming back, I told you!”

The boy’s bottom lip started quivering at his harsh tone “I-I…I didn’t know. What if…What if it’ll be like when Father left?”

The hunter stopped walking, eyes fixed on the child “Cas…”

“He didn’t even tell us.- the angel breathed, his tone heartbreaking- He just…left. Wasn’t I a good child? Did I behave wrong? Why would He left me without a word, Dean? Why?”

So that was it, Dean thought.  He left alone an angel who was already been abandoned by God and him, just a little kid without mojo, panicked.

“I don’t know.- Dean whispered, stroking softly his dark hair- I’m sorry, buddy.”

Castiel took a deep breath trying, unsuccessfully, to calm himself and his trembling voice “I-I just thought that maybe…the first I started searching for you, the first I’ll have found you…- he explained, burying his face in the hunter’s strong chest- Not like with Him…I-I…”

Dean hushed him, still caressing his head “It’s ok, Cas. I’m not gonna leave anymore. I’m not gonna leave you.” he promised, heading back to Bobby’s with his precious charge.

  When they were back everyone was so happy it looked like Christmas’ morning. Sam was so relived and hugged Cas so tight that Dean had to take the angel out from his grip. Gabriel and Balthazar were finally calm, they both took one of their brother’s hands in theirs and started whispering Enochian and soothing words in his ears. Even Bobby, usually not so prone to physical contact, kept stroking the little’s angel soft hair.

Soon enough, anyway, everything was back to normal.

The two angels, drained from the recent events, were back to their nest and taking a nap, Bobby was at his desk, reading who-knows-what, and Sam was simply enjoying the unusual peace sitting on an armchair and surfing on his laptop.

Dean was slumped on the couch, Castiel cuddled on his chest, surely not quite ready yet to leave the hunter.

“Don’t ya wanna sleep?” the older Winchester asked him, when he saw the winged child yawning cavernously.

Cas shook his head slowly, obviously tired “No.”

Dean couldn’t hold back a little chuckle “Ok. We’ll just stay up and awake, ok buddy?”

“Uh-uh.” the angel agreed, fisting his hand on the hunter’s shirt.  

And Dean, still smiling, started singing the only lullaby he had ever known.

Which was why they were back at the abandoned playground. They hadn’t wanted to risk going back, but Gabriel had loved it last time, and Sam thought cheering him up was probably a good idea. And he did seem to be enjoying himself—they all seemed to be, actually.

“Hey, Dean! Look!”

Balthazar was balancing on top of the monkey bars, his arms and wings spread out for balance—and Dean almost had to smile at the comically huge grin on his face. “You just be careful up there,” he said, turning the page of his newspaper. “I ain’t rushing you off to the hospital if you fall and snap a wing.”

Cas, meanwhile, had hopped into the sandbox with Sam and Gabriel, and was dribbling fistfuls of wet sand down Gabriel’s back, as Gabe giggled and kicked his fat little legs. (No, that definitely wasn’t adorable, that meant everybody was going to need a bath as soon as they got home. And the way they were both laughing so hard, looking happier than they had in days… that definitely wasn’t really freaking adorable either…)

Castiel might’ve gone on burying his brother with sand for hours if a honeybee hadn’t buzzed out in front of him, hovering just inches from the tip of his nose. Cas gasped, the wonder and laughter never leaving his eyes, as he followed the bee out of the sandbox and watched it settle on a blossom. “Look, Sam,” he whispered. “A honeybee.”

And as he knelt to watch it suck nectar from the flower, the bee took off, settling again on a daisy a few yards away. Grinning, Castiel got up to follow it.

“Hey, Cas, don’t go off too far, okay?” Sam called to him as he brushed sand out of Gabe’s hair. When there was no response from Cas, Sam turned: Cas was chasing the bee across the grass at a joyful run, dragging his coat behind him. “Cas, did you hear me?”

Cas kept running, both arms outstretched toward the honeybee. “Wait for me! Wait for me!”

“I got him.” Dean tossed his newspaper aside and followed his wayward angel away from the playground. “Hey, Cas? Cas!”

When Dean caught up to him, the little guy had stopped, gazing up at a tree with his thumb in his mouth, not paying Dean any attention. “Hey.” Dean grasped his shoulder, turning the kid to face him. “When Sam or me are talkin’ to you, you gotta listen. You hear me?”

Castiel nodded, his eyes wandering back towards the tree. Oh, hell no, he was not zoning on Dean already, no way—Dean gave the kid a little shake to catch his attention. “Hey. You don’t listen to what we’re saying, you could get hurt. Kapiche?”

Cas nodded seriously. “’Piche.”

“Did Sam say to keep wandering off, or did he say stay close to the playground?”

Cas sighed. “Stay.”

“That’s right.” Dean stopped, biting his tongue. He was trying—really trying—not to be condescending. He knew that it bugged Cas to no end. Just, sometimes, now that he’d been turned into a friggin’ kid, the only way Dean could get him to listen was if he spelled stuff out. Dean sighed, trying to gentle his tone before Cas got out the wounded-puppy eyes. “Come on, let’s head on back, okay?”

Cas inclined his head in an almost-nod, but then his head turned away slowly, as though being pulled back towards the tree. Dean frowned and followed his gaze. “What’re you lookin’?” As he squinted at the tree against the cold March sun, he made out what the little guy had been looking at: a small beehive clinging to one of the higher branches, honeybees floating in and out with a distant buzz. Cas was watching them almost wistfully.

“Still crazy about the bees, huh?” Dean said, and Cas nodded so seriously that Dean had to smile and give his dark curls a little ruffle. “C’mon.” He took Cas’s hand and led him back to the playground—though Cas was straggling, turning to glance back at the beehive every few steps. Dean kept pulling him gently forward, and looked back at the little guy a couple times to make sure he was okay, but Cas seemed deep in thought, like he was trying to figure something out.

“Dean, how do bees make honey?”

“Make honey?” Dean was caught off guard with that one.

Cas nodded, pulling his coat up over his shoulder. “I’ve been thinking. It must be terribly complicated, but I don’t know how they do it.”

“Well, you know, they just…” Dean settled back on his bench beside the playground, and Cas hopped up to sit next to him. “They just take stuff out of the flowers and make honey with it.”

“But how?”

“How? Well, uh…”

Goddamn it, Cas was blinking up at him with those eager blue eyes, and Dean was at a loss. He glanced over at Sam, hoping the brain of the family would throw him a bone, but Sam just smirked expectantly. Yeah, Dean, how DO bees make honey? Dean shot daggers at him before sighing and turning back to Cas. “Damn it, Cas, I don’t know.”

“Don’t you know, Cas?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Dean remembered. “You were telling me all about it, back when you were collecting honey and makin’ sandwiches with it.”

Castiel’s face fell and he shifted his coat uncomfortably. “I know,” he said softly. “But I can’t remember now.”

Dean and Sam went silent at that. It had taken them a little while to realize it, but after the curse, the angels had lost some of their memories. Not anything important—they still remembered most of the events from their lives, as far as anyone could tell. But having the entire millenia-long consciousness of an angel crammed into the brain of a three-year-old seemed to have taken its toll on their worldly knowledge and cognitive abilities. They couldn’t remember much about science or math, and they’d only retained basic elements of human history. They all had lost some vocabulary. Castiel couldn’t remember how to pronounce big words anymore. Balthazar couldn’t remember how to read. That one was a little tough to deal with—It wasn’t even that Balthazar liked reading, necessarily; it was just that he couldn’t do it anymore. He’d pretended not to be upset about it at first, but the next day when he was being a pain in the ass, Bobby put on his most condescending tone and suggested that he go off and read Dr. Seuss or something. Balthazar just lost it. He was screaming, crying, uncontrollably—and it wasn’t just your average angry tantrum-tears, either. He wouldn’t stop for three hours. They’d tried not to be insensitive about the angels’ memories after that.

“I’m sorry, bud,” Dean said more gently, giving Castiel’s hair a little tousle. “I don’t really remember, either.”

“Yeah,” Castiel muttered. “I knew you weren’t listening.” The words were so quiet and had that almost-bitter taste to them, Dean almost expected Cas to tote out that I-will-smite-you angel glare again. But when Cas looked up, he flashed Dean a playful little grin. Damn, getting him out in the sunshine really had lifted his spirits. Dean couldn’t help but grin back, shrugging half-apologetically.

“Can I go look at the bees again?”

“No.” Dean titled his head down to look Cas in the eye. “What did we just talk about?”

“Staying here,” Cas mumbled dejectedly.

“Very good. You can watch the bees if any of them come over here, but no leaving the playground, you got it?”

Cas nodded, tripping on his coat as he slid off the bench. Honestly Dean doubted they’d go another ten minutes without Cas going out in the grass again, just to test his limits. But for now Dean just settled back to read his paper again.

“Hey, Cas?” Sam scooted to the edge of the sandbox; he already had his smart phone out and waiting in one hand with an Internet browser open. “Come over here a minute.”

Once Castiel was settled in his lap, Sam pulled up a diagram of the honey-making process of the North American honeybees and worker bees. Cas sat there rapt with attention as Sam read aloud about how the honeybees collected nectar and the worker bees chewed it for hours, broke the complex sugars into simple sugars, and then allowed the stuff to settle in a honeycomb and become a thick syrup. This shit must’ve been pretty fascinating to Cas; he kept asking questions and pointing enthusiastically to the bees in the diagrams. Is that the queen bee? How do they make beeswax? How do they get the honeycomb to look like that? What’s the beehive made out of? Before long Gabe started babbling, as though he was trying to ask questions too, and Sam continued to click link after link and read aloud the answers to his spellbound pint-sized audience. Even Balthazar, noticing the small gathering in the sandbox, had to come over and join them, settling in the sand next to Gabe and listening in.

“Does that answer your question, buddy?” Sam asked Cas, once the little guy seemed to have worn out every question he could possibly ask about the bees.

“Yes,” Cas responded, tugging a sleeve of his coat over his shoulder. “There’s just one more thing I’m curious about.”

“What’s that?” Sam said.

“Why do they make honey?”

Sam almost laughed at that; they’d been exhausting this topic for close to fifteen minutes, and not once had they broached the topic of why the bees make honey. “Well, so they can eat it,” Sam told him.   

“All of it?!” Balthazar exclaimed.

“Well, an awful lot of it, that’s for sure,” Sam said, tapping another link. “It says here that a colony can eat up to two hundred pounds of honey in a year.”

Balthazar made a face. “Don’t they get tired of it?”

“I wouldn’t,” Castiel declared as he got up from Sam’s lap. “Honey is de—delixous.”

“Delicious, Cas,” Sam corrected, and Cas’s face fell a little. For a second Sam was worried he was upset that he mispronounced the word, but then Cas looked up with another question worrying his brow.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, buddy.”

“What happens to the bees when people eat the honey?”

Sam could feel Dean’s sharp glance before he even looked up, the message coming through loud and clear: Thin ice, tread carefully. “Uh—” He struggled for an answer. “I don’t know. I guess they have to make more.”

“But… what if they’re hungry?” Cas shifted from foot to foot and hugged his coat, his lip trembling a little. “What if the people take all their honey and they don’t have any left to eat?”

“Well, I don’t know, Cas—”

“Do they starve?!” Cas yelped, and oh god his eyes were welling up. The situation needed to get defused now, or they were going to wind up with another tiny-angel meltdown on their hands.

“Cas, hey. Calm down. I’m sure they don’t starve.” Sam lifted the little guy back into his lap and smoothed out his ruffled wings. “Hey, you know what, the people who collect honey, they don’t ever take all of it. They want the bees to have enough to eat, so they’ll stay alive and well and keep on making honey.”

Castiel sniffled grumpily, squeezing the sleeve of his coat tight to his ear. Sam wasn’t sure if that answer had satisfied him or not, but the little guy was quiet as he watched a honeybee come buzzing toward them, drifting around baby Gabriel’s head, and finally coming to settle on his gold-feathered wing.

“It’s just not fair to the bees,” Castiel mumbled. “They didn’t want anyone to take their honey. They worked so hard to make it.”

“You collected their honey,” Dean reminded him.

Cas turned exasperated eyes towards Dean. “That’s not the same, ­Dean,” he explained impatiently, as though this should have been obvious. “I asked them first.”

“Look!” Balthazar laughed, pointing to the honeybee as it sifted through Gabriel’s feathers. “He thinks Gabriel’s a bee.”

Gabe squealed, joyfully flapping his little wings. And that’s all it took. The bee took flight again and promptly stung him on the neck. Gabriel’s shriek of laughter transformed in less than a second to a howl of pain.

“Aw, Gabe…” Sam got up to check the sting.

“Don’t cry, Gabriel,” Balthazar said, slinging an arm around his brother’s shoulders. Castiel moved in to comfort him too, but Gabriel just screamed louder and kicked at them, fat little tears rolling down his face.

“Hey, hey. Shhh.” Sam lifted Gabriel into his arms and let him wail into the crook of his neck. Cas and Balthazar were still looking up at their brother with their little worried eyes. “Look, why don’t you two go on the swings again, give your brother some space,” Sam suggested.

“Okay.” Balthazar took Castiel’s hand. “Come on, Castiel.”

“And don’t wander off any more,” Dean warned as they went running off towards the swings. “You hear me?”

“Dean, come push us on the swing again!” Balthazar yelled.

“Whatever.” Dean tossed his newspaper, and elected to ignore Sam’s little smirk. He didn’t have time to clock his brother; the rugrats wanted a push on the swing. Awesome.

================================

“Dean.”

“Mm.” Dean stirred, rubbing a hand over his eyes. It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes since he’d parked the angels in front of a Pixar movie and laid down for a nap in the other room, but Cas was already sitting on his chest and gazing intently down at him. Dean closed his eyes again. The voices of the Disney characters (talking cars, of all things, with eyes and shit) were still resounding from the living room; Gabe and Bal must still be watching.

“Dean,” Cas whispered. “Are you awake?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Dean could practically hear the little frown in the moment of silence, as Cas twitched his wings thoughtfully. Then: “Dean, wake up.”

“Oh, for the love of—” Dean sat up and shoved Cas onto the armrest of the sofa. “What do you want?”

If Dean wasn’t so tired, he might have been softened by the nervous little puppy eyes Castiel was giving him. Okay, yes, the little guy was kinda cute in his Led Zeppelin nightshirt (borrowed, naturally, from Dean), but that didn’t change the fact that Dean needed sleep—and sleep seemed to be something the angels would do anything to keep from him.

Castiel removed his thumb from his mouth. “Dean, can we go to the park again?”

“The park? What the hell do you want to do that for?”

“I’d like to see the bees,” Cas said quietly, looking down at the coat in his lap. Dean actually had to look away, rolling his eyes towards the clock in the hall. It was way too late to deal with this shit.

“If I say yes, will you put the puppy eyes away and leave me alone?”

Cas blinked up at Dean in response. The goddamn puppy eyes weren’t going anywhere.

“Okay, okay. Fine.” Dean lifted the kid down to the floor, and laid his head back down. “We’ll go to the park.”

  Castiel beamed. “Good. I’ll get your coat.”

“Sure, Cas. ….Wait, what?” Dean jolted back up and managed to catch Cas by the elbow. “Whoa, whoa, Cas, we’re not going anywhere right now.”

Castiel blinked, looking for all the world as though he was legitimately confused by this. “Why not?”

“Because it’s eleven o’clock at night. Okay? The place is probably full of tweakers.”

Castiel’s frown deepened. “I don’t understand. What is a tweaker?”

God damn it, it was way too late for this. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache. “Look, it doesn’t matter, we’re just not going over there tonight, Cas. We’ll go tomorrow.”

“But I want to go now.”

 “Well, that’s too bad, ‘cause you can’t.” Dean stopped himself to take a deep breath. Sure, it was damned inconvenient that Cas was pulling this kind of crap in the middle of the night, but if he kept it up, Dean was going to end up throttling him, and that wasn’t going to help anybody. “Look, it’s not safe to go in the middle of the night, you’ve gotta know that. C’mon, bud, what’s gotten into you?”

Castiel shuffled uncomfortably, hugging tight to his coat, as he took a deep breath. Oh, god. “Dean,” Castiel began, “I’ve been thinking about the bees.”

“Oh, not this again,” Balthazar groaned from the living room. Apparently he’d been hanging off the end of the couch and listening to the entire conversation.

“Balthazar—” Dean warned. He wasn’t sure he could handle a conversation with one tiny angel right now, let alone two.

“He’s been going on about the bees all day,” Balthazar protested. “The bees and the honey and the injustice of it all. Listen to him.”

“The bees work so hard,” Castiel continued, “and the fruit of their labor is taken from them. It…makes me sad.”

“See?” Balthazar exclaimed. “He’s breakin’ my bloody heart.”

“Bal, leave your brother alone.” Dean lifted Castiel up to sit next to him as Balthazar ducked back down behind the sofa, turning his eyes back to the movie. Cas was sucking his thumb a little, a tiny fist intertwining with the front of Dean’s T-shirt. “Look, buddy,” Dean said, “if thinking about the bees makes you sad, why don’t you try thinking about something else for awhile? That’s what I usually do. Go watch the movie. Think about cars.”

“But I don’t want to watch the movie, Dean,” Castiel protested, with that little lilt in his voice that was teetering towards a whine. “I want to go help the bees.”

“Cas…” Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Cas, I need my four hours…”

“Why can’t we go now?”

“Okay, if you keep whining, we’re not going at all.” Dean could hear the irritation creeping into his own voice, but he couldn’t help it. The kid didn’t know when to quit, and Dean was beyond done handling this bullshit. He pushed Castiel off the sofa, and sent him back toward the living room with a swat. “Go watch the movie. Let Dean get some sleep. You know how cranky Dean gets if he doesn’t have his four hours.”

Castiel turned back at that, with a patented Smiting Glare burning out of his eyes. “Don’t condefend to me, Dean. I’m an angel of the Lord.”

“It’s ‘condescend,’ Cas.” Dean picked up Castiel’s coat and tossed it towards him. “We’re not going to the park tonight. Okay? Now you can go watch the movie, or you can go to bed.”

Castiel just stood there. Glaring. Dean could already tell what was coming, and he really didn’t have the energy to handle it. He raised his eyebrows at the kid in warning, but Cas didn’t budge.

“No.”

Dean sighed, shaking his head at Cas. “Are you really gonna be like that?”

Castiel kicked his coat, grappling at it with both hands and throwing it angrily towards Dean with all his pathetic little strength. “I can go see the bees if I want to!”

“No, you can’t.”

Castiel kicked the end table and the lamp wobbled dangerously. They were nearing full-blown tantrum territory now: Cas was already kicking everything within reach and yelling for all he was worth. “You never used to order me around!” he shrieked, beating at Dean with his little fist.

“Yeah, well you also didn’t used to be a friggin’ baby,” Dean yelled over Castiel’s screeching, “but now we’ve got to make adjustments to that, don’t we?”

“I’m not a baby!!” Castiel was full-on screaming now, for all the house to hear; yanking research books out from under the coffee table and hurling them across the room. “I’m not a baby, I’m an angel! I’m not a baby!!”  

“Well, you’re sure as hell acting like one!” Dean yelled, and Cas launched a book straight at Dean and howled with rage.

“I wanna see the beeeeeeeeees!!”

“Okay. Time for bed.” Dean seized Cas and headed up the stairs, with the brat tucked under one arm. For all his kicking and bawling, Cas couldn’t get free, and when Dean unceremoniously deposited him in the angels’ nest in the attic, the kid threw himself on the ground and started beating at the wall with his feet, his enraged wails echoing through the house.

“Goodnight, sweet prince,” Dean muttered as he closed the door.

When he came back downstairs, Sam was coming in from the panic room, because Gabe, unsurprisingly, had started to cry. The little shit hated it when any of his brothers was upset. “Hey,” Sam said to Dean, picking up the baby and jiggling him comfortingly. He jerked his head towards the howling from the attic. “What the hell happened?”

“Don’t even ask.”

Dean moved back toward his couch, ready to flop down headfirst and try to go back to sleep, if he could ignore Castiel’s ongoing tantrum from upstairs. As he restored the upended spellbooks to their place under the table, his foot caught under—Castiel’s goddamn overcoat, which the kid had apparently left sprawled across the fucking floor. “Goddamn it, Cas!” Dean exploded, kicking the coat across the room.

Sam approached, Gabriel still fussing in his arms, and scrutinized the coat. It’d been a week or so since it’d had a wash, and it was getting filthy, yet Cas had still been clinging to it like a lifejacket. “You know he’s never going to fall asleep without that thing, right?”

“Dude…” Dean laid back, closing his eyes. “I am so beyond done dealing with this right now.”

With a sigh, Sam picked up the coat and trudged on upstairs, still trying to calm the little angel in his arms. But as they came closer to the angels’ nest, and Castiel’s screams got louder and louder, Gabe only cried harder. Sam eased open the door to the attic, and saw Cas lying on his side in the corner. He was still screaming and kicking madly at the wall, and seemed totally oblivious to their presence.

“Hey, buddy,” Sam called. “I’ve got your coat.”

Cas paid him no heed, just continued on: a long, angry scream, a quick hiccup and a gulp of air, followed by another long, angry scream. Gabe squirmed in Sam’s arms, trying to get closer to his brother, so Sam moved into the room, settled beside the little guy, and gently tucked the filthy brown overcoat over his quaking shoulders.

The thing worked like a charm. Cas continued to scream for maybe ten more seconds, before he slowly quieted down and plunged a thumb back into his mouth. And as Cas caught his breath, Gabriel calmed down himself, gurgling happily and settling back in Sam’s lap.

Sam ran a comforting hand over Castiel’s curls. “What’s going on, kiddo?”

Cas grumpily shifted around to rest his head in Sam’s lap, still squashing the sleeve of his coat against his face. “Dean is cruel,” he muttered.

Sam smiled. “Yeah, I know. He can be sometimes.” He rubbed the little guy’s back, and Gabriel joined in, pawing at Castiel’s wing with a tiny hand. “Look, Cas,” Sam said, “I know it probably doesn’t seem like it, but Dean just wants what’s best.”

Castiel sniffled, and held out a finger for Gabriel to grasp in his little fist. “I don’t like being little.”

“I know.”

“I want to be big again.”

“I know, buddy.”

These moments are hard. Little moments of bizarre vulnerability, when the tiny angels remind you that they were once massive creatures of unsurpassable strength—and not only that, but they remember being like that. And they’re fucking angry about this curse, because they want it back. They can’t remember big words or how to count, but they remember what it’s like to be strong. They know what’s been taken from them, and it’s not fucking fair. Nobody knows how to handle these moments. Not Dean, not Bobby, and definitely not Sam.

“Just go to sleep,” Sam said, thumbing away a tear from Castiel’s face. “You’ll feel better when you wake up. I promise.”

“I’ll still be little,” Cas muttered. “I just want my wings to work again.”

Sam ran a hand over Castiel’s dark feathers. “They will,” he promised. “We just need to work this out.” Cas rolled his eyes, and Sam admonished, “Hey. I know it’s rough. But how about we just focus on the now.”

“There is no now,” Cas pouted, and kicked a pillow. And god damn it, he shouldn’t, but Sam couldn’t help but smile a little as he ruffled Cas’s hair and lifted Gabriel back into his arms.

“Goodnight, Castiel.”

 ================================

It wasn’t until one in the morning that Bobby finally carried Balthazar and Gabriel up to the angels’ nest. Gabriel had fallen asleep on the sofa long before the movie ended, but as soon as the credits were rolling Balthazar had immediately pounced on Bobby demanding a bedtime story, and that had kept both of them up for another hour at least. Bobby was dog tired, and praying that after such a late night, the angels would sleep a little later in the morning.

Castiel was sound asleep with his coat twisted around him, so Bobby tiptoed into the attic and laid Gabriel and Balthazar down next to their brother as quietly as possible. “Goodnight, you three.”

“One more bedtime story,” Balthazar begged, not taking care to whisper.

“Shhh. No more.” Bobby cast a glance towards Castiel; the little dark wings were stirring, and Cas sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Go to sleep,” Bobby whispered.

“Just one more bedtime story,” whined Balthazar, as soon as Bobby had reached the doorway.

“No. Ya idjit.”

Balthazar grinned a little as Bobby closed the door. Bobby’s tone of voice was almost permanently confined to a state of gruffness, but with Balthazar he couldn’t quite keep the warmth and amusement out of his manner. “I love torturing the old man,” Balthazar declared, rolling over to face his brothers. “You missed a hell of a movie, Castiel.”

Castiel looked away and rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. “I wasn’t interested.”

“Oh, come on, Castiel. What’s the matter with you?” Balthazar scooted closer to his brother, bunching up the weathered old overcoat between them. “You’re not still upset about the bloody bees, are you?”

He sounded so disdainful that Castiel turned to glare at him. “No.” It wasn’t really about the bees, anyway—if Dean would just have let him go see them, he wouldn’t have been so upset in the first place.

“Well, good,” Balthazar said decisively as he laid back on the pillows and shirts. “Because it was honestly getting rather tiring.”

Castiel sighed, absently reaching a hand over to tickle Gabriel’s little wings. It really wasn’t fair to the bees, Castiel thought—and it was even worse that nobody else seemed to care about them. Humans just take and take from them, and assume they don’t feel the aching emptiness of what they’ve lost. It was unbearable. Someone needed to help them.

Gabriel woke up and cooed happily, kicking his fat legs at Castiel. “Oh, put him back to sleep,” Balthazar groaned into the pillow. “If he has any more candy, he’ll be up for hours.” Almost as if to spite him, Gabriel cast a nasty glance at Balthazar, and suddenly there was a giant lollipop in his fist. With a happy gurgle, Gabriel launched the candy into his tiny mouth.  

“Balthazar,” Castiel said.

“What.”

“I’ve been thinking. I’d like to do something for the bees.”

“What is it about the bees?!” Balthazar rolled over to face Castiel. “Listen, little brother. I’m sure it’s rough being a bee, and I’d love to help them too. But what are we going to do, give them a present? We don’t have anything to give them, Castiel.”

Castiel sighed. “I know.”

Satisfied the conversation would end there, Balthazar laid back down to sleep. But before he could even close his eyes, Gabriel suddenly babbled insistently, catching his attention. Castiel and Balthazar both turned to him with puzzled eyes: he wasn’t making words, of course, but he was gesturing wildly—and then, with a grin, he created a sticky, dripping handful of honey out of midair.

Castiel caught the syrupy substance in his palm, and turned slowly to Balthazar, an excited smile lighting up his face. Balthazar blinked at the honey. “No. No way—you’re not thinking—”

Castiel giggled and licked the honey from his palm. Balthazar grinned. “You are thinking what I’m thinking. Gabriel—” Balthazar crawled over and squeezed his brother. “You’re a bloody genius.”

Gabriel gurgled and pressed more honey against Balthazar’s face.

================================ 

The next day, they had a plan set up and already in motion. After the Winchesters and Bobby had cleared up breakfast, Castiel and Balthazar clambered up onto the kitchen counter and stole a glass jar from above the refrigerator—which was actually quite a challenge, considering how high up it was, but Balthazar had plenty of practice with raiding Bobby’s liquor cabinet, so they managed it in a matter of time. They got Gabriel to fill the jar with honey, and then hid the jar in the pocket of Castiel’s coat until it was time to go to the park.  

Naturally, after his bee sting yesterday, Gabriel wasn’t too keen to return to the old playground, but after an incident with some honey and Sam’s hair that morning, Sam was insisting that if he was going to get any work done, he needed the little guy out of his hair—literally. So it was Bobby and Dean in charge of the little rugrats at the park, while Sam showered eight times and pored over books and manuscripts at home.

Castiel and Balthazar had to play on the slide for a solid twenty minutes before an opportune moment arose. Dean was facing the other way, reading his paper; Bobby was meant to be keeping a close eye on the angels, but Garth called Bobby’s cell, needing a fake FBI officer on the line, and Bobby wandered back to the parking lot to find better phone signal. “Now,” Balthazar hissed. “Let’s go.”

And they took off across the grass towards the beehive. “Come on, Gabriel!” Balthazar exclaimed as they passed their brother, and Gabriel crawled out of the sandbox and followed them reluctantly, keeping a safe distance from the bees.

They took out the jar of honey and left the coat at the base of the tree. The tree wasn’t terribly tall, the limbs not far apart—Once Balthazar had boosted Castiel onto the lowest branch and hoisted himself up, it was fairly easy for them to climb up; they passed the jar of honey back and forth beween them, and clambered higher, from limb to limb. There was a blanket of pine needles beneath them, ready to cushion their fall, should either of them slip or break a branch. Still—Castiel knew that in his regular vessel, the height would’ve been almost insignificant, but in the form of a child, the height was dizzying. Castiel shook his head decisively, passed the honey jar to Balthazar, and climbed on.

“I think I can reach them,” Balthazar said, stretching a hand toward the hive. “Do you want me to do it?”

“I want to.”

“Okay, come up to this branch.” Balthazar took Castiel’s hand and pulled him up. The limb sagged under their weight, and Balthazar quickly shifted to the other side of the trunk. “You ready, Castiel?”

Cas nodded and lifted the honey jar above his head. The hive was just inches from him; he could hear the bees buzzing happily away in there, working together, talking to each other with their wings. Would they still understand him when he spoke? Things had changed now; he was a child, his powers had been taken from him. He couldn’t be sure, but it was worth a try. Castiel cleared his throat.

“Um, hello bees! We want to say thank you for the work you do, and that we’re sorry that people…”

Balthazar nodded encouragingly. His eyes were glued to the ground, and he seemed to have just noticed the height of the tree, for his legs were shaking a little. Castiel hurried on, “We’re sorry that people steal your honey sometimes. We have brought you this honey as a token of our…our gragitude.”

“Gratitude, Castiel,” Balthazar muttered through gritted teeth.

“That’s what I said, Balthazar.”

“I’m just saying, if you’re going to make a bloody speech, at least do it properly—”

“Thank you, bees!” Castiel interrupted loudly, thrusting the honey jar toward the beehive. “Please enjoy this gift!”

With excitedly-shaking hands, Castiel began to pour the honey into the entrance of the hive. At first he wasn’t sure the bees had noticed, but then he heard them buzzing louder—and louder… and then the whole hive began to quiver a little with the noise.

“Erm—” Balthazar tugged at Castiel’s shirt nervously. “Castiel—”

There was no stopping it: before Castiel could even lower his hand, several bees erupted from the hive and flew straight toward him. For a wild hopeful moment Castiel thought they wanted to thank him—but they didn’t look happy. There was a flash of two honeybees before his eyes, and then a searing pain in his right hand.

“Owww!!”

Castiel threw up his arms and flung the jar of honey through the air. They were everywhere, he could feel them—his wings, his arms, the back of his neck—and they were attacking Balthazar too; Castiel counted five of them at least, but he swore there must be many more of them stinging him, they were everywhere—Balthazar was crying; below them Gabriel let out a long, panicked wail, and somewhere, Bobby shouted, “How the hell did you idjits—?!”

Cas didn’t know how it happened, but the next moment, Balthazar had grabbed him and they were falling through the air. Their wings snagged on a few branches—buzzing, insistent buzzing still pressed up against their ears—the faraway ground rushing up at them—

Castiel heard Dean yelling his name, and he closed his eyes and screamed.

 ================================

Dean didn’t know what happened; he didn’t remember hearing the kids crying, or looking up and running towards them, but the next thing he knew he was off the bench and running towards the tree, and Castiel and Balthazar were tumbling off the branch, and—shit he wasn’t going to be fast enough to catch them—they’re going to—

Gabriel yelped and lifted up a hand. His juice wasn’t strong enough to suspend them in midair, but it was enough to slow the fall. By the time Dean and Bobby reached the base of the tree, Castiel and Balthazar were just touching down to the ground… and there were bees fucking everywhere.

Bobby scooped Gabriel up under one arm and Balthazar under the other, and marched them back towards the picnic benches—probably swearing at a mile a minute, but over the sounds of bees buzzing and angels crying, Dean couldn’t tell. He grabbed up Castiel’s overcoat and tossed it over him, protecting him from further stings—the little guy was hiccupping and wailing hysterically, and Dean wanted nothing more than to check him over and fix his injuries, but with the bees swarming, more coming every second, there was no time; they needed to get out of here, and fast. Dean swatted at a sting on his neck, and carried Cas back to the playground at a run. Cas was clinging to him, and it wasn’t until they had passed the sandbox that the buzzing left Dean’s ears and he could hear the little angel whimpering into his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m here.” Dean cast a glance towards the picnic benches. Bobby had already hauled Balthazar over his knee and given him one hell of a swat to his skinny backside, eliciting a yelp and a wail. Dean should probably be doing the same to Cas right about now, but with the little guy clinging to him and sobbing brokenly into his chest, he just didn’t have the energy. “All right, c’mon, Cas,” Dean muttered, kneeling down and setting Cas on the ground. “You’re okay. Hey. Cas, come on. Look at me, man.”

Cas choked through a couple sobs, but managed to turn his streaming eyes toward Dean. Shit—the little guy looked so broken up that Dean couldn’t help but reach a hand out and brush a tear away. “You’re fine,” Dean said firmly, and he realized as the words left his lips that he was saying it to reassure himself as much as Cas. Goddamn it, his heart was still racing. Seeing Cas and Balthazar falling out of that tree, that was a worse scare than any run-of-the-mill demon. And he wanted to shake Cas for it, yell at him, crush him against his chest—but they had other stuff they needed to tend to first. Dean sucked in a deep breath and steadily looked Cas in the eye. “Show me the stings.”

Sniffling, Castiel pointed to stings on his wrist, neck, forehead, and right wing, and Dean checked each, removing the stingers one by one. Bobby had thankfully brought a couple cold beers, hoping to kick back and relax a little while they were out of the house, but now, when Dean glanced over again, he was using one to keep the swelling down on Balthazar’s arms. Dean followed suit, grabbing a beer from the bench and and pressing it to the stings on Cas’s wrist. Cas had his coat squeezed tight to his face and tears rolling down his cheeks, and he still hadn’t stopped trembling.

“All right, take it easy,” Dean murmurred. “You’re okay, bud. Just a couple bee stings; you’ve had worse.”

Castiel gulped back a sob. “I—I didn’t mean to make them angry.”

“Yeah, well, they sure did get angry, didn’t they.” Dean moved the cold beer to Castiel’s neck, and pressed it against the stings. “You wanna tell me what you were doin’ up there?”

Cas looked away and and shifted uncomfortably, kicked a little at the ground. Dean knew that look: Cas fidgeting, not meeting his eyes—He first saw it when they caught him in a ring of holy fire (all those eons ago), suspecting him of spying. It’s the look Cas gets when he’s done something wrong. Dean didn’t stand for it then, and he wouldn’t stand for it now, not by a long shot. Dean grabbed Castiel’s chin and turned his face toward him. “Cas, you’ve got five seconds to explain why you were up in that tree.”

Castiel’s eyes went wide, and he raked in a quivering breath. “W-we—we wanted to give them honey.”

Dean frowned; for a moment he almost thought he had to have misheard. “You… wanted to give the bees honey?”

Castiel nodded miserably. “To replace—what got taken away from them. They deserve that much, Dean,” he added defensively, sensing the disbelief and fury rising in Dean’s eyes.  

“Yeah, but maybe they didn’t want it,” Dean said. “Maybe they didn’t want two weird kids with wings to start poking their house and pouring sticky stuff all over them. You ever think of that?” Cas was crying again, but Dean plowed straight on. He needed to get this through to him. “You ever think of how dangerous it was to climb that tree? Or get that close to a friggin’ beehive? Did you ever think about that, Castiel?”

“N-no…”

“Well you should’ve. You’re damn lucky you got out of there with just a couple stings. Hell, if Gabriel hadn’t used his mojo, you could’ve broken a limb falling off that branch. Do you want that, Cas?”

Cas shook his head, eyes tight shut as he sobbed silently. His entire body was shaking with the tears as they forced their way out, but he didn’t say a goddamn word. Dean was about to shake him, force him to answer out loud, because goddamnit he was so fucking sick of the kid not listening to him, not respecting him—but as Cas choked on a sob and hid his face, Dean realized: Cas was crying so hard he literally couldn’t speak. Shit. Dean had been raising his voice. He knew from experience how little that helped. Cas couldn’t handle Dean yelling: he got scared, too scared to understand why Dean was angry, or even remember what he did wrong. Dean knew full well that it didn’t do anybody any good, but whenever Cas did something wrong, Dean always found himself yelling at the kid, and he always felt like shit about it afterwards.

Dean took a deep breath and grasped Castiel’s shoulder—He knew he needed to get this through to him, and now, or else they could end up with another situation like this. Taking care to speak quietly but firmly, Dean said, “Cas, look at me.”

Cas sobbed and sniffled behind the overcoat, but Dean waited until he emerged, blinking up at him with wet scared eyes. Dean tilted his head down, his gaze level with Castiel’s. “I don’t want you ever pulling a stunt like this again. You hear me?”

Castiel hiccupped. “I’m sorry, Dean…”

“I said, do you hear me?”

“Y-yes—P-p-please don’t be angry, Dean—” Cas gulped, fresh tears sliding down his cheeks. “I-I was just trying to help the bees.”

Dean sighed. “I know you were, buddy,” he said, gentling his tone. “But in the process you were gonna hurt yourself. Do you understand why that makes me upset?”

And there it was. The understanding dawned in Castiel’s eyes—followed by true regret. Cas knew what it was like to worry about his friends, and he’d never wanted to upset Dean like that. That was the last thing he wanted, and Dean knew it; the little guy just didn’t think it through. “All right,” Dean murmured, and with a quick swipe of his hand brushed the tears from Castiel’s cheeks. “We’re good.”

With a pained little sob, Cas dove straight into Dean’s arms and hugged him tight around the middle; his little body still shaking and his wings bristling up under Dean’s nose. Dean almost laughed in surprise, but he should’ve figured. It’d been a hell of a day—a hell of a couple of days actually—and Cas needed this. So Dean wrapped his arms around the little guy and pulled him in closer, settling on the ground with his favorite little angel snuggled in his lap. There were still little sniffles and sobs coming from under the feathers and overcoat and the dark mop of hair, and Dean just ran a soothing hand up and down the small, quivering back.

“I’m s-sorry, Dean.”

“Shhh.”

They sat there rocking back and forth, until the cold beer for Castiel’s stings had gone warm and sweaty in Dean’s hand, and Castiel’s little heartbeat had stopped racing. When Dean glanced across to the picnic benches, Bobby had Balthazar and Gabriel in his lap—Balthazar still crying, and Gabriel halfheartedly pawing at Balthazar’s hair in comfort, looking rather bored with the whole situation. Dean couldn’t help but smile a little.

“What do you think?” Dean asked quietly, thumbing away a leftover tear from Castiel’s eye. “You wanna go see how your brothers are doing?”

Castiel nodded, and Dean started to shift him off his lap, but before he could move, Cas grasped the front of his shirt in a pleading fist. “Dean, first—can we go apologize to the bees?”

Dean sighed. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever understand Castiel and the goddamn bees. “Will it make you feel better?”

Cas nodded. He already had out the puppy eyes; there was no arguing with him.

“All right,” Dean said. “But we’re not getting anywhere near that tree. You can apologize to the bees from the ground. Kapiche?”

“’Piche.” Castiel eagerly took Dean’s hand and led him back out to the grass.

And as they were walking, Dean started to hear it. It was almost unnoticeable at first, but as he glanced around, trying to find the source, he realized—Cas was humming. Just one note, unbroken, slipping from between his smiling lips. Like the buzz of a bee.

“Cas, are you buzzing?”

Cas just smiled and continued with a nod.

It really did amaze Dean sometimes, how happy these angels could be. Sure, sometimes they’d tear Bobby’s whole house apart with their tantrums—crying and demanding and cursing and beating their stupid useless wings against the wall—but other times, this inexplicable serenity would just come over them, and they’d smile. They’d lost everything. Everything sucked ass. But sometimes, they’d look up and the sun was shining, and even though everything had been taken from them, they’d just accept and smile.

It’s just not fair to the bees. They didn’t want anyone to take their honey.

They work so hard, and the fruit of their labor is taken from them.

Outside today, in the garden, I followed a honeybee. I saw the route of flowers. It’s all right there, the whole plan, there’s nothing to add.

Castiel suddenly broke away from Dean and ran ahead.

“The hell—? Cas!” Dean chased after him at a jog—There was something glimmering in the grass up ahead, a short distance from the tree. And Castiel was running towards it, not looking back.

Castiel stopped a few yards away from it, and it wasn’t until Dean caught up to him that he saw what it was: the half-spilled honey jar that was flung from the tree. “Dean.” Cas pointed to the jar, his voice hushed. “Look.”

Dean knelt down beside Cas, scrutinizing the jar. He had to squint and shade his eyes against the sun, but then he saw them: there were three honeybees inside, sucking the honey from the sticky glass.

“They’re eating it,” Castiel whispered.

Dean couldn’t help but smile. The weird passion Cas had for the bees… maybe he just needed someone to help. He was powerless now. He couldn’t help himself, or his brothers… but the look on the little guy’s face right now—well, it wasn’t quite worth almost losing him to a fall from a tree and a swarm of bees, but it almost was.

“Looks like they liked your present after all, huh?” Dean grinned, ruffling Castiel’s hair.

Cas walked over to the jar, and sat down beside it, his eyes fixed upon the three honeybees inside. He hummed. He shook his wings. He smiled. He leaned in close and whispered into the jar.

“I’m sorry I poured honey in your house.”

The bees buzzed around in their little glass prison, bumping off of each other, before they found the opening to the jar and flew out. Cas frowned, following them as they flew away. “Hey—hey! Did you hear me?”

The honeybees kept on flying, higher and higher, out of reach. Castiel watched in dismay as they returned to the hive—His wings were flapping uselessly at his sides, unable to lift him off the ground. Dean watched, worried for a second that the serenity would pass and Castiel would start to cry again. But Cas just stood there, looking longingly up at the hive.

“Dean…” Bobby was calling from across the playground. “Let’s get goin’.”

Dean held out a hand to Castiel. “C’mon, bud. Let’s go.”

And Cas took his hand and walked with him. He was quiet as his little feet dragged along the grass, catching on buds and blossoms, watching for bees. He didn’t glance back at the hive this time, but as they passed the sandbox, he looked up at Dean with a worry quivering in his eyes.

“Dean… do you think they’ll forgive me?”

Dean smiled, lifted Cas up into his arms, and pressed a little kiss to the bee sting on the little guy’s forehead.