A back story to my first SPN fic that has a long name. It'll be cute, angst-y and depressing all at the same time depending on how well it flows. So, dear readers, here it is! I'm actually in exams right now and have little time to proofread, so…sorry.

Disclaimer: For God's sakes! I couldn't even own Castiel's pinky toe, so the whole of SPN? Pffft.

Chapter One: Would You Listen?

Before God made Earth and every living creature on it, He created the perfect beings. The angels. Eight-winged Seraphim to help him come to conclusions He otherwise wouldn't have even thought of and his fighting Legion, fighting with sword and sharp singular wings. Truly, his advisors and warriors were beautiful in their golden glory yet all they seemed to do was look at Him like a treasure that needed protecting. He was God, for God's sakes! It became extremely irksome after three thousand years of nothing but wondering why he had made the perfect beings if they had little to no free will? Here was a concept he had been playing with for a while. The Seraphim, for all their insights, could not possibly understand the reasoning behind Him actually wanting someone to argue with him. The Legion honestly didn't seem to listen, unless it was plans for battle. So He waited patiently for an idea to strike.

In other words, God got creator's block.

After a while, it became clear that the Seraphim weren't exactly having the time of their not-lives either. When not taking counsel with Him, they literally contented themselves by staring at each other with unblinking eyes to see who would be the first to look away. The record so far was around two hundred and six years, give or take a decade. It took a while for Him to realize that he had created them strictly for the purpose of listening to his thoughts, which also brought to his attention the fact that they always agreed with him. On everything. It was actually mildly disturbing. The Legion trained. And trained. And trained.

Again, He came back to the niggling feeling whenever He thought of the dilemma. Free will would allow His perfect creations a little bit of wiggle room to be a little less than perfect and a little more alive. As a bit of an experiment and after a whole lot of planning, He handed to the priestly and fully grown Seraphim a tiny fledgling with six perfectly white wings sprouting seamlessly from his back. Already, the feathery appendages were six feet in length and looked almost comical when compared to the size of it's body but the Seraphim were intrigued by the tiny creature. Different from them and yet, he was the same. Looking into his crystal clear eyes as God watched in pride, they named him Michael.

Stroking his downy feathers and crooning over him like one of the creatures He was planning to create, a hen, the Seraphim spoiled the boy to the point of disaster. He would throw tantrums if not tucked into the wings of one of his surrogate parents, which wasn't often. He would scream and cry if God tried to give him any kind of punishment, no matter how gentle. The first time God had hesitated to spank Michael when he was two hundred years old nearly killed Him because of the sorrowful glances the Seraphim gave him. It was no wonder He decided to give him a little lesson in humility. With a little bit of imagination and as much love as He could give, He created Michael's perfect opposite.

Whereas he had hair of the softest, silken sunlight, Lucifer had hair of black that stuck up in unruly tufts and occasionally went into a slight wave. Michael's eyes were clear as day, Lucifer's a stormy grey. Michael's skin a healthy tan and Lucifer's with an olive sheen. Different as night and day but the plan worked incredibly well. As expected, the toddler noticed the new baby in Heaven and screeched as loudly as possible. To say he was unhappy would be an understatement. However, as soon as Lucifer began wailing and fisting his tiny palms for Michael to cuddle with him they became inseparable. Every night the Seraphim tried to separate them and every night they turned away to shake their heads and smile because Michael would have his brother tucked under a fluffy wing to keep him warm.

He no longer threw tantrums terrible enough to make even God cringe at the volume of his voice, beautiful as it was. Michael was too busy trying to please the tiny fledgling that had a fondness for toes and a dependency on his big brother. Finally, when God deemed them ready, he created another sibling for them to play with. Michael was training with the Legion by then and saw it as his duty to protect both of his baby brothers from harm. After that, while Lucifer and Raphael maintained their relative innocence Michael grew up strong and without much humor. Even God became spacey when the time came to check in on the Legion and have his son report to him…It was an unfortunate fact that although he worried terribly, he wasn't much good at expressing thoughts or feelings about a subject.

That's where Lucifer came in.

Although it was clear they would be equals when they grew, the younger was clearly the better at putting words together. Whether it be for trickery or to convince his brothers that he was not, in fact, too young to be training, Lucifer always had a litany of words for all who would care to listen. He was the mouthpiece of the three brothers. Raphael often preferred solitude in order to create a distinct difference between his attention seeking brothers and himself. As a result, he spent much of his time reading in the Pantheon and became quite skilled at the art of healing even at such a young age. There lay the problem. Since they all had their own specialties and were admittedly very good at them, the Archangels, as they were called, looked down on those who didn't.

The Seraphim were still looked at in wonder but the Legion was treated with almost frigid disdain. The very angels who trained them and welcomed them like brothers were being shunned by the unjustified reason of only having one pair of wings. They didn't shine a pure white like Michael's, or speckle beautifully in just the right light like Lucifer's. They didn't have the near glow of health that Raphael's well-groomed wings reflected. The Legion, simply put, wasn't special in their eyes. They weren't as beautiful, as colorful, as powerful as the Archangels and Seraphim. Wings with metallic sheen, scar-covered from battle and not as smart as the average angel but that didn't mean a thing in God's eyes. They were all His children and yet even in their perfection, there was mass prejudice.

So God once again made a plan. It was much different than this time because instead of creating the perfect warrior, advisor or son, He was letting this being take a life of it's own choosing. Having picked out a perfect mentor for the newest Archangel, He smiled and allowed the tiny ball of glowing light to leave His hand. Flickering gold and dancing wildly, it shot off instantly with what He could already tell was going to be boundless energy. It was only hoped that the chosen of His sons would take care of the fledgling. Erasing the thought from His mind, He carefully forgot any of what had just come to pass. Of course the fledgling would be loved. The only way this plan would work was if the Archangels didn't discover him before the time had come…

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The golden light arrived in an unfortunate place, for it seemed as though the chosen son had died in battle. His brothers mourned his passing but none of them knew the oath he had taken to their Father. And so it was that a tiny fledgling came into being, alone and cold laying beside the imprint of a massive set of wings. Wild hair that was already covering his eyes was rubbed out of the way by a weary hand as the golden light dimmed and vanished, now reflected in the eyes of amber and flashing richness. Hiccupping curiously as he looked around, the tiny babe's face curled into a crying pout as the feel of death roiled over him. Sobbing and wailing miserably in the almost dark piece of Heaven didn't bring any curious siblings to save him and he immediately fell silent.

Tears blurred the unnamed fledgling's eyes as he whimpered and crawled closer to the light clouds that he could call home until someone came for him. There he waited for the mentor he would never have, watching from a distance those lucky fledglings who were playing and training with older brothers and sisters who had no time in their busy lives for a tiny reject. A thumb made it's way into his mouth and an adorable gurgling sound came from his throat from pretending he was there with his brothers, whom he already loved dearly. The moon came up brightly behind him and lit the wild mop on his head the exact color of molten gold. Squinting in the sudden light and blinking back tears as it seared his eyes, the flash of gaudy gold that went through his eyes was hardly noticed, even by him.

A butterfly fluttered serenely by his nose before landing briefly on it. Deciding he quite liked the feeling, the fledgling followed it as the creature took flight once more and led him to a meadow. It was absolutely gorgeous. Filled with flying, singing creatures and curious little beasts that snuffled at his side to make him giggle and squeal. Tall things waved to him with hands of green, red and even yellow while their smaller counterparts awed the babe with their bright colors. Crawling on his hands and knees brought the fledgling towards a particularly strange tall thing. It's arms and hands drooped and swayed in the cool breeze blowing through the meadow. It was sad for him.

The tall thing, a tree as they told him with soft brushes against his mind, curled a loop of it's vine-like leaves around his waist to heft him into it's branches. The view was amazing from the very top of the friendly tree and he could even see his Father's throne from the bright shine far to the north. The Archangels were training together, moving in perfect rhythm to Michael's demands. With another soft flash of golden eyes, he smiled giddily as he knew one day he would join them. Just…not right now. A rustle of wings somewhat alerted him to the presence of another being before large arms scooped him out of the tree. His new friend's protests were cut off with a stern, "Silence. I will not have this fledgling muck about in my glade. He left enough of a mess as it is, going through my chrysanthemums. Now, little one, it is time for you to go."

While not cruel, this brother wasn't the nicest of the brood and definitely didn't enjoy it when the little fledges came to visit. The way Irakiel saw it, this was his space and nobody else should be here. The tiny face began scrunching up to cry as the older angel's grip became too tight and the trembling lip started to go. The amber eyes grew impossibly wide as tears started to fill them, sunlight bouncing off the shimmering liquid and giving his eyes an impossible sheen. Thus was the birth of the puppy dog eyes and they worked as well now as they would on Dean millennia from now. Irakiel instantly felt the stickiness of the emotion known as guilt and the rush of panic before the fledgling burst into soft wails. Changing his grip into more of a cradle, he murmured in a slightly harsh voice, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Look, you can come back once in a while, but just…don't mess up any of this, alright? Now, I'm going to carry you back to the gate."

Irakiel promptly left the meadow in a flurry of dull grey feathers, speeding towards Heaven's gates and smiling slightly at the babe's delighted squeals. It would appear that the tiny being loved the feeling of flight even though he wouldn't spread his wings for several years more. Dropping him gently on a soft cloud, Irakiel was actually sad to leave the poor thing all alone. He felt slightly better when he knew the young angel's mentor would come for him soon enough and left without another word. A few minutes later, soft sobs were coming from the yet again abandoned archangel baby as the undeveloped wings bunched around him like a downy blanket. They would have a delicate strength as he grew older, that much was certain, in the fine boning of the feathered appendages. The fledgling would be fast.

If anyone bothered to teach him how to fly.

Depressing first chapter, no? I think we all know who the little archangel is. Review if you know who Irakiel will become later on in the story. If you get it right, I'll write an extra chapter on the childhood of Castiel and post it as an extra. If not, I'll still post the chapter but later on as part of the story. Peace!