1. The Littlest Angel (is not taking no for an answer)

Castiel was the youngest for many eons, through the birth of light and word and man and the fall of God’s first and most precious, Lucifer. None of them, least of all Castiel himself, expected him to remain the youngest; for however much faith the Host had in their Heavenly Father they also accepted that His magnificent plan could, and often did, appear capricious. But, in the tradition of the mysterious workings of their Lord, Castiel was the youngest for so long that eventually their collective expectations fell away and Castiel’s name was rarely heard because to every last angel in Heaven, he was simply “Younger Brother,” even when given tasks that would make some of his elders shudder in fear.

Nonetheless, through the arcane and unknowable ways of the Lord, there did come a day when a bright comet flashed though the sky but did not fall – and Castiel was no longer the littlest angel.

#

Dean hated vampires, he really did; they were worse than wendigos because like Jehovah’s Witnesses, they traveled in packs and were immortal.

He was actually wishing the whole apocalypse thing would boogie on over and get started, if it would mean he would not have to fight fugly vampires in the middle of small town America using a machete and dead man’s blood. It made him feel like a ghoul and that was not right.

Although the real problem here, when he thought about it, was that they were losing. Sam was at his back and yeah, that felt right, in as much as it also felt like a Mac truck was trying to push him into the ground, but they were surrounded by about eight undead who were very, very athletically undead.

This hunt was particularly bad because it had been something of a pedophile thing, or the vampiric version of it, with the nest stealing kids to drain dry. That gave Dean some more juice to the fight, even with his back muscles screaming at him and his right knee (always the weakest) threatening to give out.

“Wait, what?” Sam stepped off and Dean almost fell on his ass without the support behind him. He slashed madly at the air before realizing why Sam had stopped fighting. The vampires were down.

“We won?” Dean stood there and looked at his machete, which did have enough blood on it to have won a throw down with eight seriously pissed off monsters, but it still seemed kind of surprising.

“Yeah?” Sam sounded as confused as he did. “Hey! Who are you!”

Dean spun quickly and saw Sam standing over a young, very young boy. The kid could not have been five years old, and next to Sam looked like a china doll boy with white, unmarred skin and ringlets of dark brown hair framing his face. Sam’s chin was shoved into his chest in an effort to look down far enough to see the kid.

“I am Rebecca.”

Dean frowned, wondering at the girly name. “Weren’t you just hanging from a bunch of chains over….there?” Dean waved his machete at the wall.

“My vessel was dying there, yes.”

Sam backed up quickly, and Dean nearly did the same. Nearly.

“He wanted to help you. So did I.” The boy smiled then, guileless and innocent in his ripped and bloodied clothes, and Dean thought it was pretty creepy. Sam must have agreed because he took another step backwards.

“Let me get this straight, you’re an ang—”

“Rebakah!” Catiel’s low rumbling voice thundered through the barn, so loud that Dean's bones vibrated with it. Like an unholy terror, lacking grace or calm any of the zen-like shit Dean had come to associate with him, Castiel stormed into the room. He literally pushed Sam aside with a flick of his wrist, which pissed Dean off, but he was too busy being shocked by this turn of events to really do anything about it. Sam seemed likewise confused, and stumbled over a dead undead body until he got his ginormous feet back under him.

“What did I tell you?” Again Castiel’s words shook the ground they were standing on. Literally. Dean braced himself.

Sam pushed his shoulder into Dean’s. “Does he look a little…pissed?” Sam whispered, hunching down so he could speak softly.

“Like, a lot? Yeah.” Dean whispered back.

The little boy, small and fragile and delicate, glared up at Castiel with an expression of unrepentant fury, opening his mouth to reply. Dean instinctively covered his ears as the screeching started crawling through his nerves.

“No! Stop it!” Castiel slapped his hand over the boy’s mouth, and the noise stopped. “I told you to stay home! I told you to sing in the choir and wait for me.”

Dean watched as the boy’s face went from murderous to guilty with a flinch. Castiel slowly removed his hand, watching the child like a bug under a microscope. The boy opened his mouth but froze when Castiel held up a finger. “No. Not in Enochian. Do not punish your vessel for your poor judgment.”

The boy – and Sam, Dean noticed – tilted his head in confusion. “Does it hurt the vessel?”

Dean blinked as Castiel actually rolled his eyes. “Yes, it does. Your vessel is human. Think about that—how could any action that hurts a mortal not hurt your vessel?”

“But I can heal him!” The boy held out his arms proudly, obviously showing off…and Dean remembered the broken, bloodied corpse the child had been when they first raided the building. Or, not a corpse, at least not then.

“Which expends energies and strains your grace. Rebakah, a vessel requires…finesse. Which you do not have!” Castiel practically shouted the last part, and Sam scooted backwards again.

“Maybe we should leave?” Sam whispered, tugging at Dean’s sleeve as if he was five himself.

“Go. Home.” Castiel turned back on the child-angel-thing and aimed for Sam and Dean. They quickly shoved to the side to let him pass.

“But they threw you out! You’re all alone!”

Castiel froze. His face was as expressionless as it always was, but there was something to the energy around him that buzzed and itched at Dean. Sam seemed to feel it too, twitching and glancing back at Rebekah.

“You were not to know that.”

“I heard them singing for you. They were crying.” Rebakah shook his/her head of curls. “They threw you out!”

“Yes, they did. Which is a lesson for you, as much as for me. Go home, and stay there.”

“No! I won’t! You can’t make me!”

Dean folded his arms and slumped against the wall, because this? This was something he knew a lot about, practically raising Sam himself. Oh yeah, he knew the whole “ain’t gonna” schtick and he was really interested to see how this was going to go.

“Uh, Dean?” Sam kicked at his foot.

“No, I want to see this. Go on, Cas, give him the old what for.”

Castiel glared at him, raising his chin defiantly, then turned around. He seemed to gather himself together for a moment, and then the two angels were staring each other down.

“You cannot stay and help me. I was thrown out, and there will be a great war here soon.”

“I can fight.”

Dean laughed and jabbed at Sam with his elbow. “Wow, he really does sound like you.”

“Hey!” Sam yelped.

“Dean, stop helping,” Castiel threw over his shoulder. Dean cackled, which he could not really stop doing because, honestly, who would have ever pegged Cas as the older brother? Dean snickered.

“Rebekah. Go home.”

She or he–Dean could really not make up his mind about the pronoun, which bothered him. He leaned over to Sam. “So is that a girl angel? Or a boy vessel? Or what?”

“Dean, I really don’t think it matters, okay? They’re angels.”

Dean shrugged, because there was that.

Rebekah finally looked down and shuffled his feet. “No one wants to help you.”

“Sam and Dean are helping me.” Castiel said softly, squatting down to put himself on the child’s level. “I have friends. Do not worry for me. I…I will be home soon.”

Even Dean could tell that Castiel, like any good older brother, was lying through his teeth. Rebekah launched himself into Castiel’s arms, though, crying. “I just want to help!”

“Is it raining?” Sam whispered. Dean looked out the barn door, where a sudden squall had whipped up from nowhere. He looked back over at Castiel, who gave him a frustrated look and nodded.

“I think maybe it’s small one,” Dean whispered back at Sam.

“Wow.”

Castiel pulled Rebekah off of him like a limpet. “You must go home now.”

“No! I’m going to help you!”

“Yep, just as much a stubborn brat as you were. Are.” Dean nodded, then ducked as Sam made to bitch slap him. But Dean could tell where this was going, he had the argument enough times to see exactly how it was going to end if someone with experience didn’t step in and help Castiel out of the grave he was digging for himself. Dean was generous enough to be that someone.

“Hey, Rebekah, right?” He walked over, crouching down next to Castiel. The little boy nodded, and up close, it was easy to forget it was just a child. The angel’s eyes were dense with light and wonder, its presence shimmering with barely contained energy. Dean took a deep breath.

“Well see, your, uh, brother Castiel is helping us out right now. We need him here.”

“And I shall help you defeat the Malicious One with our mighty glory!” Rebekah stood up straight. Dean felt its power coalescing, hardening, and massing for battle. Castiel opened his mouth, but Dean cut him off.

“Absolutely, buddy. That’s what we’re counting on.”

“Dean—” Castiel hissed at him, but Dean kept going.

“Which is why we need you to go, uh, home. We need someone up there we can trust. Someone who can tell us what’s going on.” Dean gave the boy/girl a conspiratorial look. “We need you there to keep tabs on things, you know? Keep us in the loop.”

“You mean, to spy on my brothers?” Rebekah gave Dean an intense look, which mostly reminded Dean of Castiel. It was creepy.

Cas opened his mouth again, looking horrified, but Dean knew they were on a roll now.

“Exactly, buddy. With you there?” He pointed up. “We’ll have the inside scoop. They won’t be able to pull anything over on us. Think you can do that? It might be dangerous, you’d have to be careful.” Dean rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “I mean, if you don’t feel comfortable doing—”

“I shall serve as eyes and ears for my brother among the Host!” Rebekah crowed happily, quickly warming to the idea of being a spy.

“Dean!” Castiel squawked, but Dean waved him off.

“That’s the idea! Go you!” Dean gave the little angel a thumbs up and got an armful of shimmering, electric pulsing energy that felt more like being hit with a defibrillator than a hug before Castiel dragged Rebekah off of him, saying something in a weird language that sounded vaguely chastising. Rebekah looked up at Castiel adoringly.

“I’ll go right now, Brother! I will report back when there is news!”

Castiel caught the child as he fell, picking him up as if he weighed nothing. In fact, the kid probably didn’t have more than 40 pounds on him, and he looked frail and exhausted without Rebekah animating him. Castiel looked down on the small child with an expression of detached interest.

“Rebekah left him fully healed. He will not remember anything of his experiences here.” Castiel walked over and handed the boy off to Sam, who took the child as if he were made of glass. “Take him home.” He turned to Dean. “That was a clever ploy, but it will not keep Rebekah away for too long.”

“The point was to just get her out of here. You’re welcome.” Dean scowled at the lack of gratitude. Seriously, if he hadn’t stepped in, Rebekah would have never left them alone. It was weird enough everyone thought he and Sam were gay, he could just imagine how well that would go over traveling around with what looked like a five year old kid along. Because he was fairly sure Castiel would skip out on them the first chance he could.

Castiel nodded slowly. “Yes, I am grateful for that. This is no battle for the Littlest One.”

Dean and Sam exchanged glances. Sam looked nervous. “So that was the, uh, youngest angel?”

Castiel nodded again, exasperated, looking far more like an older brother than an Angel of the Lord. “Yes. Incorrigible. Always trying to ride comets or start fights with the cupids. I have no idea where that comes from.”

Dean smirked. “Guess you got to baby sit a lot?”

Castiel frowned. “You could say that.” He gave the boy in Sam’s arms one last check over then stood back. “I must go now.”

Dean and Sam stared at the empty space that had been Castiel a moment earlier. Then Sam turned a vicious glare on Dean.

“You bastard. You used that line on me to get me to stay with Bobby when I was nine.” Sam glared at him, holding the young boy’s body protectively to his chest.

“Yep. It worked then, and it worked now. You can thank me by buying me a beer.” Dean picked up their machetes and led them out, stepping carefully over the bodies of the vamps Rebekah had smited. Smote. Whatever.

He tried not to think too much about their Littlest Angel playing super-spy for Team Free Will up among the Host. He tried not to think about everything that could go wrong. He tried not to worry.

Not that it ever stopped him before.