Chapter Text
It was one of the worst recorded storms in Lawrence history, the night Dean met Castiel. And if you asked him, he'd say that he hadn't regretted any of it.
He was seven, when he heard the crashing and the sound of wood breaking from the basement. His brother Sam asleep in his own bed, jeez the three year old slept like the dead.
He padded down, little care bears flashlight in hand, peering into the darkened room under the house. He stiffened when he heard shuffling. And flinched hearing the thunder. Shining the light onto the only other entrance, two small bolted wooden doors, he saw a huge hole, like something had crashed into them. "that explains the wood sound.." He crept down the stairs, looking where he shone the light. The floor was littered in feathers, and.. Blood?! Was whatever crashed down here injured?
"whose there? Are you hurt? I can go get my mom?" Mary wouldn't mind, being a nurse, shed happily help.
"no.. I need no assistance from your mother.. I... I will heal..." The voice was gravelly, but comforting for some strange reason. The thunder rattled through the house again, while whoever spoke to the young Winchester seemed to hiss in pain.
Dean dashed over following the sound. Coming across a man huddled under a bunch of feathers, he was wearing a soaked trench coat, his dark hair damp from the rain, and piercing blue eyes that made dean feel like they were looking at his soul.
"your hurt. I can get the first aid kit.. Mom says not to use it unless its necessary." The man seemed to frown in the beam of deans flashlight. "first aid? I very much doubt you can use such a thing to fix a broken wing child." He had a smile on his stubbled face anyway. Which in turn, had Dean smiling.
When dean came back with the first aid kit he really had no idea what to expect, he should be waking his parents, should be telling them of the strange winged man in the basement. But he couldn't. The man was injured, and seemed friendly enough. The boy set about trying to treat Castiels wing, it had been broken during his fall, and had bled profusely. But the young boy didn't relent. Determined to get it back to working and flying order. Much to the birdmans amusement.
Dean was careful not to cause too much agony for the wing, and enjoyed the feel of the black feathers when they'd been cleaned, he found some honey scented massage oil in the bathroom that belonged to his mother, and settled in grooming the matted wings, it became a routine every day after school.
When asked what he was doing, he'd say he was playing with his imaginary friend. Determined to keep cas a secret.