A/N: So this is just a story for my own pleasure. I'm just starting college so things are hectic. I'll write and update when I have time for fun. But to be clear, this isn't going to be my best work. I'm just going to write. No editing, re-reading, or any of that.

The story takes place after the Season 5 finale, so I'm sure there'll be some sort of time gap—of how long, I didn't specify so go ahead and take that initiative yourself. Dean's living with Lisa and, well, I've taken it upon myself to introduce a new angel character which you will see shortly.

There are bound to be problems with the way I depicted him falling, etc, but whatever. This is just for fun.

Also as a disclaimer I only wish I owned Dean Winchester.

"No."

The simplicity of the word struck him almost instantaneously. As soon as the sound left his lips, he was falling, a white-hot meteor from the sky. His entire being was hurling down, straight as a pin until he hit the atmosphere. Then he was twirling, spinning, rolling through the thick air at an inconceivable velocity. He felt his form twist violently, and struggled to maintain control of it. Thrusting his shoulder blades outward, he wrapped his newly scorched wings around his vessel in attempt to shield it from the coming impact with the ground.

The ground quaked and curved around him as his body—he had a body now—crushed into it, leaving a roughly round dent where green grass and wild flowers had been only moments ago. He felt something. It was…pain. He opened his watering eyes and looked down to his chest, which was both heaving and quivering. Tilting his head back, he lifted his icy blue irises skyward, a bloody grin slowly spreading across his face.

"I win."

• • •

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

"'Night, Daddy," Sarah said, arms reaching up and grabbing her father's face. The man smiled fondly and leant down to kiss her forehead. Sarah grinned, gaps present where her two front teeth should've been.

Sarah watched him as he turned to leave, curling her toes under her sheets in anticipation for the sudden darkness that would replace the light in her room. Her father reached for the switch and heard a gasp from Sarah's bed.

"Sarah, I thought we talked about—"

Sarah's body sat up abruptly, stiff and eerily motionless. Her golden eyes were blank, staring at the wall in front of her. Her father flinched as she let out a long, piercing screech.

He ran to her bedside and shook her shoulders. "Sarah!" he called, but she remained unresponsive, mouth still agape.

He shook her firmly and lowered his face to hers. "Sarah," he whispered desperately.

Sarah blinked once and turned her eyes to meet his.

"He has fallen."

• • •

"You need sleep," Lisa said, taking Dean's face in her hands and rubbing his cheeks softly where the purple lined under his eyes. She smiled sadly and watched him closely, looking for any sign of hidden emotion in those green eyes.

"I've slept plenty," Dean said, not meeting her eyes. He pulled away from her touch, withdrawing. "What I need is a job." Anything to get my mind off him, he thought.

"No," Lisa pressed stubbornly, letting out a gentle but exasperated sigh. "You need rest. You need to just…stop for a moment." She turned his chin and looked into his eyes. "We both know why you're here," she said quietly. "You want a normal life. But that's not going to happen right away. So let's make the best with what we have," she said encouragingly.

Dean tried to smile. "Yeah," he said, nodding along. "Yeah, you're right."

• • •

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He was standing outside of the store, and then he wasn't. In the blink of an eye, he was inside the store, no evidence of having broken in. Using his powers probably wasn't the smartest decision, considering the poor shape he was in from the fall, but he couldn't risk being caught by human authorities. Ignoring the pain he was feeling, he glanced around the dark room for any signs of life. Nothing.

Letting out a sigh, he nodded and continued his task. This was a delicate task, requiring immense precision. So many choices, and where to begin? He picked up the first shirt he found. It was a nice black collared shirt. He pulled it on, ignoring the stinging sensation he felt against his skin. Scanning the room again, he moved toward some pants and pulled on the first pair he found. They were far too short, coming only to his ankles. This vessel was exceptionally tall and slender. He pulled them off and pulled another pair on. These seemed to fit fine. He looked to the side and found a mirror, taking a breath before looking in.

Not bad. His vessel was as he thought—tall and thin, but very fit and muscular. Aside from the fact that he looked as if he'd been beaten up, blood covering his face and body, he appeared to be in good physical shape. A mess of jet-black hair covered his scalp. His nose was straight and Roman-esque. And his eyes—they were a frightening shade of ice-blue, enough to make him shiver upon sight.

His outfit now consisted of a black shirt and black pants. Something was missing. Shoes. He looked at the shoe rack and pulled down a pair of boots, sliding them on easily. Next to the shoe rack hung a black leather jacket, which he pulled on. Can't go wrong with leather. He looked back in the mirror. Something was still missing. He looked around until he spotted what he wanted—a bright, blood-red tie. He tied it around his neck as a grin settled on his face.

Now he was ready.