My headcanon on why Dean Winchester has freckles, now in drabble/ficlet form. No beta.

Summary: God tells Gabriel to have Castiel approve Michael's future vessel.

Gabriel doesn't know much about the kid. Just that he's the youngest angel. He wasn't sure why he was sent to relay this message from God to Castiel; he wasn't really a favorite, archangel or not. But, out of the four archangels, he was the least intimidating. And Castiel was young. So.

The angel's Grace was bright; he seemed too innocent, too…independent to be some hammer for God to use on His little pets down on Earth. His form was even a different shade than the other angels; a soft blue glow where the others were pure white. If Gabe was honest, he was a bit…intrigued by it.

Castiel was shocked when the archangel approached him; he gave a sort of start that Gabe found endearing. "Don't worry, kid; I don't bite," he held up his hands, "Dad's got something for you to do. Asked me to relay the message."

Castiel's eyes widened. "Father's given me a task? Himself?"

Gabe nodded. "Yeah, but don't get too excited…He just wants you to check on Michael's vessel."

The younger angel cocked his head slowly. "Check on his vessel?"

"Yeah. Look, I don't get it either. You busy?"

Castiel shook his head. "No. I believe now would be"—snap—"fine." Gabriel had taken them to some strange room, all white and sterile, pure but eerie. A very naked man lay on the table before them.

"Tada!" Gabe grinned, slapping the body on the chest. "Meet Dean Winchester. Michael's Vessel for when our big showdown hoe-down goes down some millennia from now. Like what you see, Cassy?"

The other angel peered over at the body, confused. The man was gorgeous—one of his Father's finer works—with pouted lips and a strong jaw, straight nose and long lashes, bronze skin and light hair, sturdy build and well-defined muscles. Castiel lifted one of his lids—his eyes were a green that reminded Castiel of spring, somehow so full of life even though he was just a design.

"Whaddya think?"

Castiel hadn't realized he'd been gaping until the voice brought him back to the present. "He's…very appealing. Michael couldn't ask for a better design."

"Alright," Gabe nodded. "Cool. You one last thing: you get to christen ol' Michael's vessel."

"What?" he stared at the archangel. "What do you mean?"

"Don't be such a prude," Gabe laughed, patting him on the back. "Dad wanted your approval. Now seal the deal. Make it official."

"I still don't understand—"

"Kiss him, man."

It seemed somehow inappropriate. Not that it should; Castiel had no intentions toward the man, no ulterior motives. The man who this body would belong to wasn't even there yet; he wouldn't exist for thousand of years, if not more… Still, he felt it was not his place. But if his Father had said to…

Castiel leaned over and pressed his lips chastely against the vessel's.

Almost instantly, flecks of darker colored skin bloomed across the span of the body; from the lips Castiel had touched, across the handsome face, down the span of the chiseled body. Castiel jumped back, startled, eyes wide and confused. Gabe burst out laughing. "Oh man! The look on your face, Castiel!"

The youngest angel still looked slightly disturbed. "What on earth was that?"

"Freckles, dude," Gabe slung a lazy arm around his shoulder. "You know what they say; freckles are angel kisses…"

Castiel's brow furrowed. "No one says that, Gabriel."

The archangel shrugged. "Eh. Well they'll say it now."