So, nephilim. The result of a human and an angel gettin' it on. Typically a pretty important thing - they're fucking powerful, after all. So angels don't tend to create nephilim lightly. But, y'know, even timeless beings of heavenly grace make mistakes.

You're one of these nephilim. But it's not like you can go swanning around and doing divine zappy shit.

First off? No clue who your angelic father is. Second off? No one's taught you how to use your powers. Hell, you've never even met an angel. Third off? You're a gutter kid. Yeah, that's right. After whatever angel sired you ditched your mom and she gave birth to a baby that was babbling in Enochian with little fledgling wings, well, she got rid of you pretty quick.

So , you, a young nephilim, are having to survive all on your own, with powers you don't even really understand or know you have, and a set of wings that nobody taught you how to fly with.

And one day, while you're trying to scrounge for something to eat in a trash can in an alley, you feel a presence. An angelic presence.

Castiel and the boys are in town for a hunt, and Castiel senses you too.

So he hunts around til he finally finds you - a young, scrawny, filthy, fledgling nephilim. And he just s t o p s.

Until he speaks.

"A fledgling?" Castiel says with a soft gasp, his voice low and rough, but with a concerned edge to it, as he tilts his head, looking you over and taking you in with those ice blue eyes.