Unmendable || Destiel

summer of '89

song: blowin' in the wind- bob dylan

"you are magic; don't ever apologize for the fire in you."

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Castiel hadn't really thought about it, all he knew was that one minute he was playing on the swings, and the next a bluebird was falling from the sky, not able to fly on a broken wing.

"Mommy, help!" He squealed, running to where the bird was laying, twitching in the grass. Gradually it became still, unmoving. Dead. Castiel crouched beside the poor animal, his mother barely looking up from her People magazine.

It hadn't bothered him then, at five years old, that his mother wouldn't even glance up when he'd screamed for her. But he had been young. He didn't know better. He didn't know about the affair, or the drugs. He just knew that the bird wasn't moving.

Castiel didn't know what death was, not really. That's why he didn't see any reason he shouldn't stroke the dead bird's wings, comforting it, even though it wasn't flying anymore. That was the very moment Mary Novak chose to finally look up from her Michael Fox article.

"Castiel Novak!" She shrieked, "Get away from that thing right now!"

"Mommy, why isn't he waking up?" The boy asked, not tearing his gaze from its sad, unblinking black eyes. "Castiel! Step away from it this instant! Chuck! Get out here!" She yelled, calling out for her husband.

Just as he walked out of the house to squint at me, the bluebird's foot twitched. Its feathers ruffled.

My mother screams, completely beside herself. "IT WAS DEAD! IT WAS DEAD! I SAW IT DIE!"

The bird lifts his head up, then flies away.

As if he hadn't just died right in front of us. Everything was fine, even the tear in the wing had seemed to be mended.

"Castiel... What have you done?" My mother gasped, bringing trembling hands to cover her mouth in shock.

"What are you?"

Mary Novak starts mumbling about backing up, and Castiel had thought she meant for him to stay away from where the bird had been, but to this day he didn't think that's what she meant at all. She was speaking to not only his father, but to herself - to stay away from a small child that didn't know what he was doing. One who really hadn't meant any harm, who only wanted to help something that was weak and dying. Castiel now felt as helpless as the bird, free-falling through the air with nothing to grab or hold onto.

Castiel. Her innocent five-year-old son, who only wanted good, and didn't know the first thing about the alternative. Just a kid.

The whole rest of the day, his parents had avoided their son like the plague, only using hushed whispers to speak to each other, and lots of quieted phone calls in the corner of the room.

Castiel had never felt such an outcast. In his own home.

Was there something wrong with him? Castiel didn't think so. He didn't know what he had done, or how he did it.

How was he supposed to know?

Castiel's parents didn't pick him up and hold him, telling me how special I was for doing somwthing so wonderful like saving a life. Instead they'd looked at him the way Petunia had looked at Lily Potter. They looked at Castiel like he was an abommination, not their angel, let alone their child. They looked at him like he was a freak.

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To almost-preschooler Castiel, it was just another morning waking up in his red race car bed, with the sound of a familiar Bob Dylan record coming from the kitchen.

He'd completely forgetten about all the events from last week, he didn't care about the bird or the strange looks his parents had once given him. He just wanted to crawl out of bed and have a juice box.

So all Castiel could do was scream when lots of big men in white coats burst through his bedroom door and carried him away, out of his race car bed, out of his room, out of his house, out of the state.

Parents of the year, In Castiel's opinion.

The scientists thought they could fix him.

He knows that they were wrong.

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Sorry this may be super weird, I'm not sure if I like it or not. I'm having to convert all this to third person so that's a little tricky. And also a guy's point of view. Rewriting is tough. Fun fact, I've never written a whole story in a guy's perspective so this is kind of new for me.

I'm working on getting better at this, sorry if it isn't perfect right now.

Also, this story is kind of focused on Cas's journey - more so than romance. That doesn't mean that Dean isn't coming into play, it just means that at the end of the day it's about finding yourself rather than someone else.

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