BIRD AU. :D (pre-slash, Dean/Castiel)

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“You two are idjits,” the Night-Heron said. The tallest of the two Great Blues tucked his bill in close.

“Sorry, Bobby,” he said. “It’s just, well, he’s got nowhere else to go, really.”

The other Great Blue shifted his weight from one long leg to the other. “Yeah, Bobby. Not like we could just leave him to fend for himself. I mean, he saved my life and all.”

The Black-crowned Night-Heron sighed. “I know, idjit. But you’ve got the Whooping Cranes after you already and that Flamingo isn’t going to let everything go very easily. I’m just worried you’ve broken off more than you can swallow.”

“We’ll take it under advisement,” the Great Blue said, “Come on, Sammy. Let’s go give the guy the good news.”

“Yeah, okay, Dean. Just a sec. I want to talk to Bobby about something,” the taller one said. Dean nodded.

“Alright. Don’t take too long.” With that, he strode off into the tall grass, head swaying in time to his steps.

Sam waited until his brother was out of sight before sighing and looking down at the Night-Heron. Bobby cocked his head, one bright orange eye looking up at him shrewdly.

“What is it, boy?” he growled.

The Great Blue shifted a bit. “It’s, uh, well, it’s Ruby.” Ruby was the Roseate Spoonbill that Sam had been courting off and on for several weeks.

Bobby hissed. Neither he nor Dean liked Ruby one bit. “What about her?”

Sam hunched his wings a bit, defensive. “She ran off with Brady, the Whooping Crane,” he said. “Thought I’d tell you before I told Dean, but we’re done.”

“Good,” Bobby said. “Glad to hear it. Now shoo, you cattail.”

Sam’s beak parted in a smile before he nodded and turned to follow after Dean. “And be careful!” the Night-Heron called after him. “Ya idjit!”

~*~

He caught up to Dean at the edge of the pond. His brother nodded at him, then pointed his beak at a particularly thick bunch of grass. “He’s in there. Thought I’d wait for you before I told him. What’d you need to talk to Bobby about?”

Sam preened at one wing for a few seconds. “Ruby and I are over for good,” he said.

Dean hissed. “Good,” he said sharply. “Come on.”

They strode forward the few steps and Dean kicked at the grass. “Hey, Castiel! Come on out.”

The grasses shivered and a moment later, a white head poked out. “Hello, Dean. Sam,” the Great White Heron said, his voice formal and stiff.

“Hello, Castiel,” Sam said, bobbing his head. Dean pushed in closer to the Great White.

“Hey, dude. So, we talked to Bobby and he said you could come and stay with him. He’s got a great big hollow tree on the other side of this bunch.” He stabbed his beak at the thick copse behind them. “The birds after you won’t be able to find it, but we gotta do it soon, yeah?”

The Great White considered it for a few seconds. “This is acceptable,” he said and stood up.

Standing, he was only an inch or two shorter than Dean and considering the Great Blue was forty-eight inches tall that was saying something. Sam, at fifty-two inches, was taller than them both and he bent his legs and neck in an attempt to look a bit smaller than he was. It didn’t help much.

“Alright,” Dean said. “Let’s go.”

Dean led the way back towards the trees, taking long strides and keeping his head on a swivel. Like Bobby had pointed out, there were still the two Whooping Cranes, Michael and Lucifer, that were after them and after the confrontation just two days ago with the Greater Flamingo, Zachariah, Sam didn’t blame his brother for the extra caution.

Sam shooed Castiel out of the grass after Dean and took a second to stand up to his full height. Dean and Bobby might call him a cattail (the tallest grass in the area, taller even than Sam in most areas) but his extra height came in handy when it came to scanning his surroundings.

There was no sign of the Whooping Cranes or Zachariah, though, so he quickly followed after Castiel and Dean.

~*~

Bobby looked the Great White Heron up and down, then hissed. “You would be all one color,” the Night-Heron said. “Alright. Get in here. No need to advertise our presence.”

Dean and Sam flared their wings behind Castiel as the Great White followed Bobby into the hollow tree. Their grey-blue feathers helped obscure the bright white of the other heron and the opening in the trunk of the tree. Once Castiel was through, Dean waved Sam in and the taller heron tossed his head, but obeyed. Dean had hatched mere moments before him, but the shorter Great Blue took his duty as an older brother seriously. It was usually best to just not argue.

The inside of the tree had been hollowed out by disease, insects and Bobby himself. From what he’d told Sam and Dean, their father, John, had helped him do so, as well, before the Great Blue had been killed by hunting dogs. There was plenty of room for all four birds and Bobby still claimed the best perch and promptly fluffed his feathers out, making him look a good third larger than he was.

“Home rules,” he hissed. “No scratching at the walls. No getting up in the middle of the night. If you need to go, wait until morning. Don’t bother me with inane questions. Get your own food. Am I clear?”

Dean and Sam, having heard the spiel many times already, just nodded and found their usual roosting places and settled in. Castiel stared at Bobby for a moment, before also nodding. He looked around, then hopped up onto a perch just below Dean, hunching his wings and curling his neck so that he was abruptly half his actual height. Sam bent his head around until he could peer out of a knothole by his perch.

“Too late for any more wandering,” he announced. “We’ll have to resume our search tomorrow.”

Bobby hissed, but didn’t say anything, tucking his beak under his left wing with a last baleful glare at Castiel. Dean just nodded.

“What are you searching for?” Castiel asked, relaxing a little bit now that Bobby was no longer glaring at him. His tail spread and his wings drooped a bit. Sam nodded to himself in approval. Being wary of outside danger was one thing. Not being able to trust the birds sheltering him was something else.

Dean preened at one wing before answering. “It’s a weapon,” he said. “Our father told us stories of it and it’s the only thing that can help us now, so we’ve been looking for it.”

Castiel tilted his head, one eye peering up at the Great Blue curiously. “A weapon?”

“You ever see a human?” Sam asked, shifting so he could look around his brother at the Great White. Castiel hesitated.

“I…yes,” he said quietly, but didn’t elaborate. Sam wondered just what the story behind that answer was, but he knew it was too early for Castiel to be willing to tell them that.

“Well, they have these things—weapons—that can hurt and kill birds. Like the dogs, except not alive.”

“I…see. Why do you need such a thing?”

It was Dean’s turn to shift on his perch. “Well, you see—”

“You won’t be seeing anything if I peck your eyes out,” Bobby hissed. “I’m trying to sleep here. Save the chatter for tomorrow.”

“Sorry, Bobby,” the Great Blues chorused. Castiel just hunched back in on himself again.

“Just be quiet, idjits.”

Sam sunk down on his perch and fluffed his wings. Just before he tucked his beak into his right wing, he saw his brother scoot over to spread a wing over their Great White guest.

Well, that was interesting.

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