Feathers And Spandex

It's A Difficult Life

Cas was freaking out, this night was just too much. What the hell was going on in this city? He tried to be as silent as he could standing up, there's no need to alert the people below to the presence of the very person they were looking for.

He was successful in making it away without a sound, but he still had to be careful, God knows how much of the city is part of this 'operation'.

He took off into the air, not making a sound. He could be quiet when he tried. He soared towards the east side of the city. He flew to his own 'secret location' as he liked to call it. He entered the building, it looked like it was about to fall down.

He had grown attached to this old warehouse, he grew up here. Ever since he had woken up, with no memory, as a small child here. Castiel had so many memories here.

When he looked he could still see the remains of a garden where he had grown his own food for the better part of his life. He looked to the corner where a box sat, a small blanket resting inside, the winters had been hard, but he coped. He walked through looking at all the set ups that would easily slip the eye of a passing person. But not Cas, for he had made all of these things.

A charred pot on a stack of newspapers, a dirty sink that, by some miracle, still had water flowing through the pipes. As well as small knickknacks that he had made in his spare time. It wasn't the best childhood, but he was content by himself.

Angel of solitude and tears

Now it made sense. Cas may not know his entire story, but it was enough.

He snapped out of his memories from the past, he came here for a reason.

He walked up the rickety steps to a room where he kept his valuables. Once, as a child, he had been walking down the street just outside the warehouse, and found a plastic bead necklace. He thought, back then, it had been some great treasure. He chuckled. The necklace was scratched and old, but in surprisingly good condition.

Next was a book. Old and worn. The pages were yellowed and dog eared, read many times. He had walked into a library, just wandering around the city. He hadn't known what it was at that point. When he had gone in there was a bin labeled 'free books' he picked out a thick book on the history of America.

Needless to say he was fascinated with the text inside, somehow he already had the ability to read. He spent almost all of his time in the library. He did that for years. He began to get to know everyone who worked there and it became like a second home to him.

He was so happy when they offered him a job there. He finally could buy food instead of growing his own. He could get good clothes and save up to buy an apartment. And when he did buy one, he finally had a home without a draft chilling him down to his bones.

The library had been one of the most important parts of his life.

His eyes sifted over the many valuables he collected over the years, his old knife, which had influenced him to take up crime fighting. The feather of a bird he had somewhat tamed, it's name had been Daniel. A drawing of a woman he had picked up in an alleyway, and various other things.

His eyes finally landed on the glowing vial he had retrieved from the gang members. He slipped it into his belt and headed to the roof, memories of his first trying to fly came to his mind, as well as his first broken bone. He smiled at the memory.

He lifted up into the air, leaving his childhood memories behind.

⚠️WARNING⚠️
GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE AHEAD!!

He landed on the roof of his apartment building. He walked to what other people would assume was a AC unit, but was in fact a changing station Cas had built. He threw on his clothes and walked into the building.

He made it three steps into his apartment before he heard footsteps, he was being followed. He turned around and came face to face with a man dressed in all black. Cas threw a punch, but the man ducked just in time.

He kicked at Cas' legs, almost successfully tripping him, until Cas released his wings to keep his balance, knocking over a table with a lamp on it, glass shattering as it hit the ground. "I knew it." The man said. Cas lashed out again, landing a fist against his stomach, the man groaning in pain.

He heard footsteps approaching quickly from behind him, turning around to see a woman running towards him with a knife. She swung at him with a blade, and he managed to stop the brunt of the blow by holding his arm up to protect himself. His forearm was sliced open and blood being onto the carpet, red soaking into white.

The woman struck again, but this time Cas was ready for her, and disarmed her by grabbing her wrist and twisting, the knife slipping from her grasp. He kept twisting until the woman sunk to her knees screaming.

He stared at her on the ground before he remembered the man behind him. He spun around and saw the man raising a bottle over his head. Cas raised his already bleeding arm and the bottle smashed over it, lodging shards of glass into his wound.

He screamed in pain. The man smashed his fist against Cas' jaw. Something made a cracking sound. Blood dripped from his mouth. He backed away from his attacker, going deeper into the apartment.

The man followed him, raising his fist to strike. Cas made a futile attempt to stop the blow to his stomach. But the punch landed nevertheless. He doubled over, spitting more blood from his mouth.

A swift kick to his legs took him down. Cas hit the floor, his head making an impact on the tiles of the kitchen, another sickening crack reaching his ears. Once he was on the ground the man was relentless.

He received blow after blow. Pain clouding his brain to the point he couldn't even scream. His mouth was open, but no sound came out.

Black seeped into the edge of his vision, the pain became to much, and he slipped into darkness.

-•—
I am very sorry for hurting the beautiful cinnamon roll.