AN: I don't own Supernatural or the boys, and I don't profit from this.

This story takes place in May of what would be Season 7, but Season 6 ended slightly differently with Cas having a change of heart. I'll try to ease you into the differences as you read. I have several chapters completed in this story already and should be able to publish fairly regularly, even when my schedule gets a bit hectic.

Home in Motion

"Traveling in the company of those we love is home in motion." Leigh Hunt

Chapter 1

The Unwanted Child

"Children are the hands by which we take hold of heaven."

Henry Ward Beecher, Reverend and Social Activist.

"We're going to have to split up," Dean told him. "I'll interview the widow, you question the witness." The hunter was in the process of stripping off his t-shirt and jeans to put on a suit and tie. Though Castiel wore nothing else and the Winchesters both wore suits when the need to impersonate BFI... no, wait, it was FBI—since Castiel would soon be impersonating one of these agents, he should really know this—to impersonate FBI agents, the attire always seemed very odd to the angel. At least on Dean.

"We have already parted ways with Bobby and Sam," Castiel said as he picked up the badge Dean had made for him. Apparently, he was to be Agent Plant to Dean's Page; Castiel did not know much about human music, but he had a suspicion this had something to do with a rock band, one Dean liked. "Do you think it is wise to 'split up' once again?"

There had been two jobs simultaneously, and while Dean and Sam were the natural best choice for a hunting team, splitting up the four required the teams of two consist of Dean and Castiel going to Minnesota and Sam and Bobby to Montana. No other combination made nearly as much sense. Sam and Bobby worked well together and Castiel worked best with Dean.

"Cas," Dean said as he began to button up the crisp white shirt, "Dude, you would freak out the widow, and according to the people in town, if we don't talk to the woman who saw the whole thing before noon, she won't really be capable of answering anything." Castiel tilted his head, not understanding why the woman would suddenly lose her ability to speak after a certain time of day. "She 'finds a liquor store' at about that time of day."

Cas inclined his head with a silent "ah." So there was a time limit, apparently. "Then I will go to speak to the woman before she becomes too inebriated." He was about to transport himself to the road in front of the woman's house when Dean stopped him. The hunter approached him and gestured for the angel to lift his chin. Castiel obeyed, allowing Dean to button the top button and tighten his tie.

"But it is uncomfortable," he said as the hunter's hands smoothed it down and then buttoned his coat. Dean had been making more of an effort over the last year. Once the anger over Castiel's lies had faded, the hunter had begun to blame himself that the angel hadn't felt he could trust him to help. Though Castiel had tried to tell Dean that trust had never been an issue, it was obvious the hunter was actively trying to correct whatever wrong he saw. It made for more opportunities to "just hang out," more questions about how Castiel was doing, and more moments when the hunter felt the need to tend to him, rather than the other way around. The angel wasn't entirely sure what to make of it, but he did know he liked it.

"Yes, and the alternative is walking around looking like a pedophile." Castiel's eyes widened at the implication. He prepared a very angry retort that he would never, ever consider touching a child in such an inappropriate and sinful manner. "I'm only kidding, Cas." Dean smiled at him and adjusted the angel's collar. "Sort of."

Castiel offered him a withering look before he popped away to a secluded area near the woman's house. He had been informed by the Winchesters—and Bobby—that his method of travel could have the potential to cause "mass hysteria," to use Sam's words, if he should suddenly materialize out of thin air in the presence of others. Castiel found it a bit insulting that the Winchesters and Bobby seemed to think he had no ability to control where or when he made his appearances merely because he did not bother to do so to them.

The angel was perfectly understanding when his friends would offer him advice on some human idiosyncrasy or pop culture reference that would have passed his notice while in heaven. However, he took issue with the fact that they seemed to believe that his "Rainman"—Sam had been kind enough to explain that particular pop culture reference—tendencies carried over into the role he had possessed for millennia. Honestly, there were times he wondered just how big of an idiot his friends believed him to be.

He had enough common sense, despite their obvious opinions otherwise, not to seek out that answer.

The house he was seeking was out in the middle of nowhere, with a front porch that looked as though it could give way at any moment. He removed the badge from his trench coat pocket and checked more than a few times that he had it upright before he knocked on the door and brandished it to the woman who answered. He had yet to develop the ready skill with the badge that came to Dean so naturally.

"I'm Agent Plant, FBI. I needed to ask Meriwether Lucas a few questions about Fanny Butler." Thankfully, his lying had gotten better.

"That's me," the woman said as she opened the door widely and allowed Castiel to step inside. Apparently, the noon guideline was a rough estimate. A very rough estimate. It was barely after ten and she smelled stronger than the angel did on a bender, and that was saying something given how much he had to drink to become inebriated. She wobbled a bit before dragging a red-nailed finger over the lapel of Castiel's suit. "Why don't you come on in and make yourself comfortable?"

The angel assumed this was the woman's attempt at seducing him. He had witnessed enough of human interaction from afar to know that they did, but he honestly wondered sometimes how such cloying moves could possibly work and how. "Miss Lucas, please..."

"Please, call me Meri. My parents were very cruel to name me Meriwether, don't you think?" The somber angel gave no answer, but watched as she took a seat on the sofa and patted the spot beside her. Castiel opted to perch on the armrest.

"Meri," he began and didn't even bother to offer the small smile he generally attempted. Dean may have encouraged him to be friendlier when they were on a hunt, but Castiel thought that there had to be exceptions to that. Like when a woman looked very eager to recreate that scene he had watched that involved the pizza man when: a. there were more important things to consider and b. Castiel found the woman trying to recreate the scene almost entirely repulsive. "I was hoping you could tell me what you saw when you paid a visit to Fanny Butler's home."

Meri slid closer on the armrest. "It was terrible. Just terrible." She attempted to bat her eyelashes at him, but the blond woman looked more like she was having a mild seizure. "I saw that her door was open. She's an elderly woman..."

Castiel did not need to listen to this thinly veiled story. It was not the truth, or even close to it. So while she placed a hand on his knee and attempted to slide it upwards, he listened instead to her thoughts and the reality of that day.

Meri needed a fix, and that old bitch Butler had more crap than she needed and had lost enough of her brain that she wouldn't even miss it. The senile woman was even stupid enough to leave the door unlocked most days. Meri turned the knob and tried her very best not to let out a small shout of victory at her easy access to the house.

She immediately raided the woman's dining room for the silver. She was smart enough not to grab any pieces that might see frequent use and instead focus on things like the ladle, cake server and cake knife. The house was completely silent as she made her way out to the kitchen. It was odd, she thought, that it should be so quiet. Shew knew that Butler's dog was getting old, too, but the last time Meri had ventured onto the woman's property, that annoying little Pomeranian had yipped like crazy.

What she found on the kitchen floor would quite possibly scar her for life, and it would almost certainly increase the amount of her vices she would come to rely on just to make it through the day.

"Her chest was wide open," Meri said. "Looked like something had just ripped into her. Heard it was the heart that went missing." Her bleached-blond head shook as though to clear the picture from behind her eyelids. "I'm not surprised, after seeing that."

Well, Castiel thought, at least there was finally some honesty.

All the angel could assume was that this was the work of a skinwalker. The sleeper cells had been awakening in areas around the world, though they were not actually following through on their plans to turn each family that kept them as their pets. They were, instead, giving in to bloodlust and killing. The only small consolation in that fact was that these singular incidents usually led to the entire local pack being eradicated by hunters before they could do any more damage or double their numbers.

"It frightened me so much," she said as her hand slid upwards on the angel's thigh, causing him to squirm. "I could really use the support of a strong man."

Castiel saw she was looking at him expectantly, and in return, he gave her a few brief pats on the back with a "there, there." She seemed wholly unimpressed.

The angel stood from his perch and prepared to leave when he heard a whimper coming from one of the rooms at the rear of the house. He knew the noise instantly and was almost ashamed of himself for not having noticed the presence of a second soul earlier. "You have a child?" he asked.

"Don't worry about it," she said quickly. "It'll be fine. It's napping."

With a tilt of his head, the angel looked at the woman and frowned. He had seen inside of her mind and there had been no concern, no worry, not even a passing thought about a child. Not even in the memory when she had been breaking into Fanny Butler's home had she thought about a baby. Even now, he noted the way she called the child "it."

Something was very wrong here, and he would at least try to assuage his concern. He had seen atrocities, committed by monsters and humans alike, and he would no more allow this child to become a victim of its mother than he would the skinwalker he was tracking for Dean. Before he left this house, he would insist upon checking the child to ensure that it was safe and healthy. He already had a sneaking suspicion otherwise.

"I would like to see the child," Castiel said, giving off just enough of his angelic nature to influence this woman into doing what he wanted. Sadly, this tactic never worked with Dean and had only mild coercive effects with Sam and Bobby. Considering how things had turned out last year and how blind Castiel had been to his own actions, perhaps it was for the best that his "mojo" had little affect on the three hunters.

Meri looked at him with a somewhat awestruck expression on her face, mixed with the slightest bit of confusion as to why she suddenly felt this way. "If you insist. Just quickly, though. Then maybe you and I can continue our little talk?"

She led him down the hallway to the room furthest away from the rest and opened the door. The walls inside were completely bare. This "mother" had not even bothered to paint them, let alone adorn them with images of children's toys, cartoon animals, storybook characters and the like that Castiel was familiar to seeing in babies' nurseries. There were no toys sitting anywhere on the floor in the room, and the only pieces of furniture was an old, battered crib and a dresser that looked to double as a changing table.

Castiel approached the crib, noting how dingy the sheets looked, how few toys were inside with the baby. Then he saw the child, probably not even a year old yet, sitting in silence yet looking up at Castiel with large, hopeful green eyes. Strawberry blond wisps of hair framed a too-thin face with skin pale not by nature but by an complete lack of exposure to the sun.

"Not much to look at, I know," Meri said. "Well, you saw him. Why don't you come on then and we'll..."

He raised a single silencing hand to the woman, and even if she wanted to speak, she would have found it impossible. He could feel this child's soul reverberating in this sad little room. It was desperate and lonely and longing for touch. Yet even as Castiel approached it, the baby did not reach up for him. One lesson had already been taught in the babe's short life: any desire for attention would be found wanting.

It was as he was nearly close enough to touch the baby that he saw what had made the child imperfect by its mother's standards. The child's left arm tapered down to nothing just above where its wrist would have been. Everything else appeared perfectly normal and healthy, but the child's absent hand was apparently the reason for the mother's treatment, and the vengeful rage that Castiel felt on the baby's behalf brought back memories of his days as a warrior for God.

He placed a palm flat against the child's cheek, but did so slowly and gingerly. The baby obviously had no real experience with touch, and the last thing he wanted to do was frighten it. The moment his hand made contact with the soft skin of the baby's cheek, however, he could feel it—no, him—lean into the unfamiliar touch.

Castiel could feel the child's soul dancing just beneath the surface, and the loneliness he could sense there made something in the angel's chest ache. The child still did not dare to reach up for Castiel, but he did offer a mostly toothless smile. Smiles did not come naturally to Castiel, but he knew one was needed now. His own smile was small, but the baby saw it. Castiel could feel the wrath inside of him growing as the baby's own grin spread in just pure gratitude that someone was greeting him with kindness. And yet, that happy look was still so tentative, just like the arms that were cautiously reaching up toward the angel. The boy was too young to have lost the ability to hope, but it was obviously weakened by time in this woman's care.

Castiel had never carried a child before. The closest he'd experienced had been cradling Dean's soul as he pulled it out of Hell, and the man's soul was in some ways both larger and smaller than this child, heavier and yet lighter. The comparison was perhaps impossible; a soul was so very different than the vessel that housed it.

Still, the angel found himself gathering the baby into his arms and holding him close as he had with Dean's broken soul. The reddish-haired boy rested his cheek against Castiel's trench coat and let out a sigh of complete contentment. He slipped into the baby's mind nearly as easily as he fell—sometimes unintentionally—into Dean's, and there was no doubt that the child had been neglected. He was slightly malnourished, left unattended for long periods of time, touched only when it was absolutely necessary, and met with only anger and loathing from his mother.

"I will be taking this child," Castiel said to the woman. He wasn't entirely sure just what he would do once he had the boy, but he knew he would not leave him here. The woman looked horrified and tried to speak but said nothing. It was only at that point that the angel remembered that she could not speak, even though she may have wanted to. "I am not reporting you to the authorities."

He released the hold over her voice and listened to her rant about where he "got off" and calling him names that were far less creative than he'd come to expect from his time with Dean.

The thought of the man brought to mind a possible solution for what to do with the baby currently snuggling against his chest. Dean had wanted a family, after all. He'd embraced parenthood throughout his entire life, whether he had been acting as mother and father to Sam or as step-father to Ben. "I could, however, report you. Put you in jail. I know that you don't want that. Not any more than I know you want this boy."

Once again, he used his influence to convince the woman this was a good idea, the perfect solution. He could not take away her free will, but he could nudge her in the right direction. She had already proven herself susceptible. "It would please my..." Castiel had to pause here to think of the term Dean had insisted he use while posing as an FBI agent. "My partner. He has wanted a family."

The woman snorted. "Makes sense now why you weren't interested in what I had to offer."

Castiel couldn't help himself as he tilted his head to the side and looked at her curiously. "I am a professional, ma'am. I do not see how the revelation of my partner's desire for a family makes any difference in whether or not I responded to your poor attempts at seduction."

He could see her anger flaring, and there was a part of the angel that wanted to provoke the anger, if only so that he would have a justified reason of lashing out at Meri for the way she treated her son. He also knew that he needed to get this boy away from her, and the only way Dean would accept that was if he didn't harm her. He seriously considered wiping her memories of the baby and leaving, but he had a suspicion that Dean wouldn't approve of that, either. "I have... connections," he said to her. "I can have all of the paperwork fixed before day's end."

"You're serious," she said incredulously. "You honestly want that thing?" She paused for a moment and seemed to be seriously considering his offer. "You know, I get assistance for him. You and your 'partner' would have to make it worth my while."

Castiel knew he would get her agreement, but he still hadn't written off the possibility of wiping her memory anyway. Perhaps back to childhood.