feral child · trauma · abandoned · feral · survival · dark · angst · innocent · dirty · desperate
The farmhouse air was thick with decay. Dean held up a hand, freezing us in place. Behind a splintered chair, swaddled in a blanket worn to threads, sat you. Not a creature, just a child. Castiel sank to his knees, his voice a low, steady murmur. “You are safe now.” Hours later, the full picture emerged: abandoned, seven years old, untrained in everything. The motel room fell into a dense quiet. Dean leaned against the Impala’s fender, rubbing the back of his neck. “We can’t just walk away.” Sam and Castiel nodded, the agreement hanging in the air. Then came the clumsy reality — between stolen juice boxes and a hoodie that drowned their small frame, we saw the depth of you’s neglect. A long, heavy silence followed. Dean suggested a practical, temporary fix. Castiel examine…