A/N: So, I've had this plot in my head for a long while now, it was inspired by that tumblr post that has the pictures of what Gabriel and Sam's son would look like, and the Dean and Castiel's. This will definitely have multiple chapters, and they will eventually meet Dean and Sam. There will probably be some Destiel (the ship itself) because I can't stop myself, but probably nothing explicit because that's not my style. Thanks all, R and R.

I remember being born. My mind exploded into being and consciousness all at once. I was nothing, nowhere, and then suddenly I was me. The table below me was cold to the touch and I was naked. Hands grabbed at my face as I struggled to learn how to breathe.

A bright penlight shone in my eyes and I winced. I heard the first voice of my life tutt at me in disgust.

"Kind of a scrawny thing, isn't he?" the tall woman asked. Her chestnut hair was in a tight bun behind her youthful face. She smiled at me...was that meant to comforting? I suspected she thought it was, but I shrank back away from her.

"We suspect he will grow significantly, Ma'am. Donor One was a small child but gained a lot of mass later in life."

"How long will that take? The others are small as well; I need soldiers not Boy Scouts."

"We estimate we've accelerated development twelvefold, so they should progress at the rate of about one year per month. I'd estimate their starting age at about seven or eight, physically. It may be even faster for the archangel hybrids."

"Can it understand me?"

The other man pushed his glasses up his nose, but I knew he did not need them. These are angels, some instinct whispered to me. These are just angels in vessels. "I don't see how he could Ma'am. They have no life before being animated. Language takes time to learn, even if he is as smart as the others."

He was wrong, I understood everything they said. Meaning was lost on me, but I knew all of these words, and I was trying to put them together as quickly as I could. I felt that if I wanted to I could open my mouth as well, make the same sounds and try to express what I was feeling, but I chose not to. I did not trust the smiling woman, and I cringed as she touched my face and my hair.

"He has the hunter's hair. And we're positive we couldn't use Lucifer?"

"We do not have a sample of his grace, and trying to acquire it now would mean having to send one of our own into the pit. That would be a suicide mission."

"So?"

The male angel looked uncomfortable. "Well, it would also alert Crowley that we needed Lucifer's DNA. That sort of information is very dangerous in the wrong hands. They would probably assume we were trying to clone him or make a child, and that would send the...it would put hunters on high alert I mean."

The woman sighed and nodded her agreement. "Fine. An archangel is an archangel." She got very close to me and put her hand on my shoulder. "It's nice to meet you, Number 5. My name is Naomi, and I am your aunt, and soon to be your general. You're special, little one."

The other man cleared his throat. "I was meaning to mention that, Ma'am. I hope you don't mind but… we've been naming them."

"Naming them?" she asked, more confusion than disgust on her face. "Why bother?"

"They are children, after all," he shrugged, clearly embarrassed. "It seemed appropriate to give them names. Besides, it helps to remind us which child came from which sample because we've just been combining the names of their donors."

"Then what is this one called?"

"Following the pattern, this one would be called Sabriel Winchester."

She pursed her lips. "Drop the last names. They are unnecessary. I give my permission for first names, if you insist"

"Yes Ma'am."

"When will training begin?"

"Immediately," he assured her.

She tossed clothing at me, plain blue pants and a long white shirt. Her rigid arms circled around me tightly in what I knew logically was a hug, but it felt like a warning. "We're going to be very good friends, Sabriel. Just be a good soldier, and you will make us all so proud of you."

I hated her. I let her think I did not understand that she wanted me to hug her back. I was not sure exactly what a soldier was, but I knew I'd never be one. Not for her.

There was not a moment of our day that was not scheduled and supervised. I was allowed eight hours of sleep in my cell. They called it our 'quarters', but it was just a bed enclosed by white walls on all sides with a door that locked from the outside. Even while we slept, two guards stood outside of each of our cells. I was not sure if they were to keep us in or everyone else out, and no one bothered to tell me.

At 7 AM we were taken from our quarters to showers and given another set of the same clothes to wear. There were always at least two angels in sharp suits guiding me, or guarding me, I never found out which.

At 7:30 I was taken to the white room I spent most of my time in. There was a wide mirror on the far wall that I knew they could see me through, and a chair on either side of the metal table. Sometimes there was someone inside with me, but usually I was alone. When I sat down first thing in the morning there were always two plates in front of me. The first plate always had something leafy and fresh, and the second always had something sweet. The first time I'd seen the choices I'd had a bite of both of them, curious to try as many new things as my captors and creators would allow. There were gaps in this knowledge I had been born with, and the names of foods were part of them. What I did know was the sweet dish had hurt my teeth and stung as I chewed, so I didn't have it again. I assumed they would stop giving me the sweet option, but it was there every meal time - something sweet and something healthy. I assumed it was some kind of experiment, but I wasn't interested in giving them data to work with.

At 8 my speech therapy began. The angel who had been present when I was born, or Kiraman as I had come to know him. For two hours he sat with me in the room with flashcards and tried to get me to understand language and speech. I spent the two hours each day with a dazed look on my face, pretending I could not understand his lessons. I knew I could speak to him if I wanted, though I had never attempted to talk. I was certain that there were microphones everywhere and that even if I whispered in my quarters, they would know. Kiraman was kind, I suppose, but I never forgot that he reported to Naomi, and therefore he couldn't be trusted.

At 10 I was shuffled off to combat trainings. This was one of the few things they had us all together for. There were five of us at first. The oldest was Anraziel, a girl I thought looked to be about fifteen years old the first time I saw her. Mamuel was after her, and I knew he was special like me because one of his donors had been an archangel. They never spoke about the names of the donors, I supposed they didn't want us to question where they were or why we were not allowed to see them. In fact I didn't know if the others even wanted to know. Without being able to speak to them I had no way of knowing how they felt about our lives in captivity. Did they even understand that we were prisoners?

Our combat trainer was Maalik, and I despised him. It was his job to teach us how to survive, but this often meant just pushing us toward each other with weapons and screaming to fight or be punished. Rumandriel and Leeriel were only a little bigger than me, created only weeks before, and they always matched them up to fight. I was small in the beginning, but they always put me up against Mamuel anyway. He showed no mercy, and I was often close to dead by the end of our bouts. One of the angels would come over and heal me, and then we would begin again. This was the one area I had no control in. I had to learn how to fight to make the pain stop, even if that was what they had wanted me to do all along. I fought back, day after day, and it took longer and longer for him to beat me to unconsciousness.

After I made another choice between sugar and greens, they would throw us in a room together with puzzles and weapons and let us 'bond'. I imagined they wanted us to socialize with each other and become some close-knit team, but we did not. I could not speak to them and maintain the ruse that I was too stupid to speak, so I remained silent and just did push ups in the corner, trying to get strong enough to defend myself. Mamuel and Anraziel spoke mostly to each other, often about the 'coming war' and what strategies we might be able to use. We knew Naomi was to be our general, but the two of them both had designs on being her second in command. The other two chatted quietly to each other in the corner, but I never bothered to listen in.

Then it was back to my little white room alone to do whatever task they put in front of me. Sometimes it was puzzles to test my intelligence, and I often did them out of sheer boredom. That may have been a mistake, because it seemed to convince them I was smarter than I let on and that there must just something wrong with the speech center of my brain. Kiraman would bring in books of faces and enemies I was supposed to remember and speak slowly and simply like I was a baby. "These are bad men," he'd croon, "they would hurt you if they got the chance. Hunters kill anything different from them, and all of you are special. That's why it's so important to get you ready to fight.

Then I was back in my bed, staring at the four white walls. With time to think I'd find myself wondering what life was like for normal children. I'd been counting days meticulously as they ticked by, and knew when I had reached each mile stone. Two weeks, a month, three months, they flew by in a white sameness that left me dreamless. Why dream when there was nothing new to imagine?

I wanted color and excitement and please just something new. I was so tempted again and again to admit I understood everything, to tell them yes, I know and see and think and want. Yet, once a week or so I'd see her out of corner of my eye somewhere. Naomi would stand outside our recreation room or peer into my quarters with a thin lipped scowl, wondering what was wrong with me and when I would be able to communicate like the others. Like her good little soldier. That scowl made everything worth it.

I was five months old when the first change came. We were in combat training as usual, and Mamuel was killing me. I was on the ground, covering my ribs as he kicked them in with a smirk on his face. Lately he'd been getting more and more enjoyment out of this part of the day, especially because he believed I was too stupid to defend myself if I wanted to. I fought back until he got me on the ground, then I usually just waited to be healed to start over. They'd been making me wait longer and longer before they called Mamuel off, I suspected as reinforcement to get me to try harder. I was just so tired of it all, of letting him cave in my face and my ribs and snap my arms, all so he could brag about it later to Anraziel.

I wasn't thinking. My hands reached out and grabbed at Mamuel's foot, yanking him hard and knocking him off balance. My ribs ached, but I was numb to them as I swung my fist into his face again and again. I just wanted it to stop, and I willing to do anything to stop him. Maybe he'd gone soft after weeks of hitting a target who was bad at hitting back, but Mamuel took several punches to the face before he tackled me back. We fought fiercely on the floor, yanking and biting and elbowing before Maalik came and separated and healed us, a great big smile on his greasy face.

They gave me an extra portion of food that night, and I was given a long hot bath instead of a brisk shower. I knew they were trying to reward me for being aggressive and I tried not to enjoy it, but I'd never been allowed a hot bath before and I found myself hoping I might get another one if I was able to hold Mamuel off again. The two angels guarding me talked about me like I wasn't there, offering me sweets on a tray that I immediately declined.

"About time the idiot stop taking it," Miriam muttered in front of me, setting down the tray. "You'd think even a mud monkey could have learned to fight back by now."

"I don't think he was choosing to lose," Hester said gently. She was sweet, but the enemy, I had to remember that. "I think he was just too small. They never should have put him up against Mamuel. It's just cruel."

"He's half archangel, it's a fair fight," Miriam insisted. "At least it will be, once they're trained properly. Besides, he's not so little now."

This gave me pause, as I wasn't sure what she meant. We weren't allowed mirrors, and I had never actually seen myself. Thinking about it, I did notice that Mamuel had begun to seem more and more my height, and if he was not shrinking I must be growing. I stretched my hands out in front of me, trying to judge how old they were. These were not a boy's hands, not like Rumandriel's little fists, and he had been made before me.

That night in my bed I did more push ups, which was not easy in the small space provided to me, which was getting smaller all the time. I found they were getting easier, and my pajamas seemed to be shorter than they had been before. It was impossible to know how old I was physically, but I decided that night I was not a child anymore. Children could not fight back, and I intended to fight back as hard as I could. Just not yet.

The next day when it came time for combat training, I fought just as hard as I had the day before, and found it was not easier than it had been to hold off Mamuel. I expected to fight him the whole two hours, but after only one Maalik stopped us and told us we were done for the day. I was confused; training had never ended early before. They left the others to fight and took Mamuel and I into a small room I had not seen before. She sat behind a desk, smiling at us.

"There's my star pupils," she gushed, giving us each a hug that only Mamuel returned. "Do you both understand why you are not like the others? Do you know what it means to be an archangel."

"Yes, Ma'am," Mamuel said, always willing to please her. "It means we are powerful, heavens most dangerous weapons, and the strongest threat to the hunters which seek to destroy the kingdom of God."

I said nothing.

"Well said, Dear Boy," she said patting him on the arm. "I believe our sweet Sabriel may understand the concept too," she leaned in close to me and her smile faltered for a minute, "even if he does not understand the words."

I fought back the urge to react. Did she know? Something was hidden in that disappointed smile. I had been so careful, could she really tell just from my face that I hated her and would never be obedient? I resolved to be more careful and let myself pretend to be distracted with my sleeve.

"You both have a bigger responsibility that the others to learn," she explained. "All angels are powerful, but your fathers had all of Earth at their fingertips. In the coming weeks, you will be spending an hour with me each day to try and learn how to use your powers."

Mamuel beamed in pride as I chewed on my sleeve. I knew no good would come of protesting, and with any luck maybe she's decide it was too dangerous to have an idiot with 'extreme power' on her own. Still, the thought of having untapped power intrigued me. Anything that might help me get ready to escape could help, and if I had the potential to be as powerful as she was saying it was worth learning.

I found myself wondering again which angel had provided the grace that created me. Had I ever met them? Were they even still alive? I knew archangels were in short supply, that's why they wanted us. The only angel that knew any of their donors was Anraziel. Her father Raziel was alive and in heaven, and had visited her once. They must have decided no good could come from that, because he had never been allowed to visit again, and now they did not speak of him.

I wonder about the other donor too. I knew that there had to be two, because of that special word Kuriman had let slip at my birth. Winchester. My name was Sabriel Winchester, but I wasn't supposed to know that. Angels did not have last names, so it had to come from somewhere.

In the coming weeks we were carted off to Naomi's office once a day to learn about our grace and how to use it. She started us off by imagining we were holding a ball of energy, and then pushing it out from our hands until a real glowing blue ball was there between our palms. I pretended not to know what she asked until I saw Mamuel do it, then I would just 'copy' him. I made the ball, I burned the papers she set on the desk, and I lifted the heavy anchors she provided with ease after allowing the grace to flow into my muscles. Finding these abilities felt good, like I'd been flexing a muscle since my birth and was now able to relax it.

I noticed one thing very quickly though; they were not teaching us how to fly. I knew angels could, they popped in and out of rooms with ease, but that had not come up once in our lessons, and I thought I knew why. Naomi had to know about me. Mamuel would never voluntarily leave this place, not when there was a war to be fought to win the glory he so desperately craved. If she was refusing to teach us how to escape, it had to be because she knew I wanted to. I'd catch her staring at me sometimes, like she was daring me to open my mouth and admit what she already suspected. I'd just smile blankly and continue my lesson. I thought there was nothing that could make me give up my secret.

I was six and a half months old the day they brought him into our recreation room. We were all shocked to see another child, we had assumed we were the entire army, and did not know they had intended to make another soldier. The boy was small, and his small stature made me realize just how big I had gotten. I towered over him, so I tried to make myself look a little smaller by hunching over. There was no reason to scare the boy, I'd been where he had, and I felt empathy for another being the first time since my birth.

Kuriman stood behind him, wearing a great big smile on his pinched face. In his arms he held a file, and I started to subtly tilt my head, trying to read the note's he'd left paperclipped to the side of it.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet our newest edition to your garrison. His name is Destiel. Please be kind to him as he is brand new and unlikely to understand our rules and schedule for some time."

I felt my breath catch in my throat. I could see it, plain as day on the file in Kuriman's hands. I doubt he thought any of us could read, and in fact I had no ideas if the others could, but I knew what that paper said.

Specimen 6: Destiel Winchester.

The boy walked into the room slowly and sank down into a corner, looking around him with wide eyes. The other children nodded to him, interested in seeing a new face but knowing newborns are not very exciting to talk to. I eased myself over nonchalantly, glancing at the guards to see if I was attracting any attention. When I saw they weren't looking at me I let myself take a long look at the boy. He was tiny, with short dark hair and very green eyes looking back at me apprehensively. The hair I could see on myself from where it had grown down past my ears looked lighter than that. Freckles peppered his chubby face, but I didn't think I had those either.

I wanted to say something reassuring, but it seemed pointless. It would give me away, and it was unlikely he could understand me, I knew it had taken the other angels a week or so each to grasp speech. I just reached out and patted his shoulder as comfortingly as I could. He smiled a crooked smile at me, and without warning crawled into my lap and laid back against my chest like he was going to sleep.

I was surprised, but I didn't move him. I saw the guards looking back at us and whispering to each other, but this wasn't against the rules. I patted his back and ignored the sideways glances from the other children.

Winchester. It couldn't be a coincidence. I couldn't know if he looked like me or not, but it was possible we had both come from the same donor. That would make us brothers. If not that, then we could at least be family. He felt like family, like the only being I'd ever seen and truly wanted to help. My mind was made up in a matter of minutes. I was going to get out of here, and soon. And Destiel was coming with me.