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"Cas, what's going on? You've been twitching and squirming for hours now and been so for days, what's going on with you?" Dean reached over to Castiel and laid an arm around his shoulders.
Castiel rolled back with his arms to get rid of Deans, so he let go of him.
"It's something I thought I'd never experience again and which is very uncomfortable. I'm molting." Castiel said and turned his face away from Dean.
"Molting? What's that supposed to mean? Isn't that something birds do?" Deans asked confused.
"Well, technically birds and every other feathered creature. And as you may remember, angel wings are also feathered, so every few years our wings molt and grow new feathers and the old ones fall out." he reached into the inner pocket of his Trenchcoat and pulled out a small, burnt, black feather about 4 inches long.
“The very few Angels that survived everything after the fall never believed our wings would molt again. We all just accepted that we would never fly again since we can’t do that with burnt wings. But now here I am, twitching and squirming because, to be fair, molting is fucking uncomfortable.” he rolled his shoulders again and sighed since it apparently didn’t give him the relieve he was hoping for.
“So, you’ll be able to fly again? After the itchy, scratchy part?” Dean asked in return and sounded surprisingly hopeful.
“Hopefully so, yes. But why are you asking? I never had the feeling you were particularly fond of flying with me.” Cas had an almost smug grin on his face.
“To be honest, most of the time I just wasn’t prepared for it. But when you warned me or us you’d fly with us, it wasn’t too bad.” Dean told him truthfully and laid a hand on Cas’ arm.
“But why now? It’s been 7 years since the angels fell. Why did it take so long before you went into molt. I would’ve thought after such a trauma the wings would recover a lot faster if it was possible for them to do so.” Dean had a puzzled look on his face, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed.
“I don’t know, Dean. We never molt on a fixed schedule. Sometimes we went millenia without molting, sometimes we’d molt twice a year. I don’t know why we didn’t start earlier or why we started at all. The angels all agreed this would be a damage that can’t be molted away since we store our grace in our wings and feathers and we need a lot of grace to molt. I can actually feel the strain it has on me. Like I want to sleep. And eat, which I, as you know, usually don’t do.” Cas sighed heavily and let the feather twirl between his fingers.
“You know what, Cas? I take that.” Dean said and took the feather from Cas hands. Who looked at Dean with wide eyes.
“What? Not good?” Dean asked in return.
“No, it’s okay. I guess.” Cas replied shyly.
“You guess?” Dean was confused. “Is it okay or is it not okay? If you’d rather keep it yourself that’s fine.” he held the feather out again, but Cas just gently pushed the hand back at Dean.
“No, please. Keep it. It’s just, feathers, and especially this feather, has some kind of meaning. But it’s actually quite fitting that you have it.” Cas face went soft as he was looking at the feather in Dean’s hand.
“And what is the meaning of this feather?”
“Where would be the fun if I just told you?” Cas replied smugly. “But I know for a fact, that there’s a book in the library that could answer this question. You just have to find it.” Cas outright winked at him.
“Any other hint maybe? Like a title or an author?”
“Nah, that would be too easy. But I can guarantee you, once you find it, you won’t lay it down for a while.” Cas chuckeled.
Dean sighed. “Fine. Guess I’ll start looking then.” he stood up and turned to the door.
“Have fun, Dean. And hold on to that feather, you hear me?”