The light was disturbingly perfect. It was red and burgundy and orange like a sunset, as powerful as the heat of the sun itself. They were wing-shaped parts of air, almost as old as the Earth and they could grow to be just that large. All the light in the area seemed drawn to the man and his wings like a magnet, catching the eye of every human, dog, cat, pigeon and rat in the area.
And they all sensed that the angel was angry. The wings were unfurled completely, stretching from one side of the street to the other, making the air hum with lethal electricity. Men and women felt the hairs on the backs of their neck rise inexplicably and they hurried away from the source. Children stood, transfixed by the shadows of something in the air.
Light and shadow seemed to sharpen, the alley became a death trap and the sunlit street was the golden way to justice. But even the bright sunlight was no match for the invisible colors of the wings. All over the street there were tiny rainbows as the light was refracted by the invisible wings, glinting on the vendor's windows and the metal cars.
If light could make a sound, there would be a deadly shing bouncing over the place. The glare in Castiel's eyes matched the killing intent of his wings.
"Dude, cut it off with the light show," Dean said, staring straight back at the angel. "I'm not getting you any more burgers."
Because even the extraordinary becomes ordinary when you've seen it often enough.