Chapter 1

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Chapter 1

'He Dreams Of Flying'

Hello followers! I would like to tell you that this is my first Destiel fanfiction and I hope that you enjoy~ The entire thing is already written and you will receive updates once a week. Please don't beg for updates because seeing a review that just says 'please update' honestly makes me angry. If enough people piss me off I can and will wait and release the next chapter a couple of days late. That being said, you don't have to worry about this not being completed. Please vote and review, just don't ask me to update in your review~ enjoy!

Oh, on a side note, if you want to make your own spin off fic/ fan art/ post this anywhere, feel free to. Just make sure to mention that it came from me originally!

I do NOT own Supernatural, this is a free, fan-made product and I am making no profit off of it, the intent of the product is for fellow fans to enjoy and to share my love of Supernatural with the common public, no copyright infringement is intended!

His eyes were closed. His hair was ruffled up and a light sheen of sweat was still present on his skin. His clothes were wrinkled and clung awkwardly to his body.

Castiel was late, and he knew that he needed to get up soon.

But his bed was soft and cool, and the blankets encased his body in a world of heat and security; he could honestly say that, despite logic, he felt safer under the covers. It wasn't the thickest or most sturdy barrier, but it separated him from the rest of the world.

He opened up his eyes just a slit, groaning in defeat when he saw the time. He had five minutes until the bus would be there.

With a spike of adrenaline, Castiel hurled himself out of bed, snapping out of the grogginess that had sunk its claws into him. He quickly crossed the room to his dresser, taking out his clothing and grabbing something random. It's not like there was much to choose from anyways, Cas always wore large sweaters and a pair of baggy jeans.

He ripped his shirt off of his head, pausing momentarily at the soft caress of feathers on his skin and the relief of stretching his muscles as his wings sprung free.

He looked at them sadly in the mirror, giving a deep sigh. He shouldn't like them being out; he shouldn't like any part of having them.

Castiel Novak was a normal kid, or at least, mostly.

He was born with wings.

Nobody knew how or why, but from the moment he was born, a pair of deep-blue wings, large enough to actually carry him, were proudly on his shoulders. The doctors called it a phenomenon, the scientists called it a mutation. His mother called him a monster.

His mother had left when he was just two years old. She just couldn't handle it; they'd made the decision to hide Castiel's wings from the cruel world, knowing that people feared what they didn't yet know. She was a smart woman, and she knew that he'd be poked and prodded and made into a freak, so she kept them secret.

At least, that's what his father had always told him.

He'd found his mother's diary a few years ago. It had been an accident, he merely stumbled upon the book while his father had gone out drinking again. The leather had been hidden underneath the bed, tucked away and covered in a thick layer of dust that displayed how long it had been since anyone had touched it. He picked it up curiously, sneezing as the dust wafted off and tickled his nose.

His breath caught in his throat when he read his mother's name in neat handwriting. This was...

This was his mother's journal!

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