Title: Falling From Grace

Author: MoonbeamDancer

Aritst: smut-slut

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Sam/Dean (unrelated)

Rating: R

Author's Notes: No I don't own them. This was written for the Supernatural Reverse Bang on LJ, my artist can be found on there as well. Her art is lovely and is rated PG-13.

Lightening crashed and the wind howled around him, pushing and tearing at his body, while the rain did it's best to drench him. He would need to land soon, before the storm did any more damage; not that it mattered, his body was already battered and bruised. The fight, while short, had been a nasty one and Dean needed to tend to his wounds. He pressed on and began scanning the ground, swooping in closer to the forest the bright flashes of light had illuminated.

He landed at the edge of it, staggering slightly onto the ground from the fight and from the fact that his wings no longer had to support his weight. His wings, normally a glossy black, were now a dull rain slicked matte black, and they snapped against his back the moment his feet touched the ground. Or rather one did, the right one tried but couldn't completely, and Dean hissed at the pain that ran through him. Sword still in hand, Dean limped into the forest using the trees as cover and support. It was slow going and Dean's wing began to ache the longer he was out in this weather, he needed shelter, ifast/i, but with not knowing where he was, Dean didn't know what direction to begin looking in. Shaking his head to clear his vision, Dean soldiered on, gripping the tree trunks with one hand. It didn't help, his eyesight blurred and he fell to the ground, jarring his injured wing. Dean cried out at the jolt of pain and mercifully passed out.

Sam looked down on the figure before him, setting his basket down on the ground. Sam had wanted to look for rain lilies while the rain had slowed down, they were a blue flower with yellow centers and were good for purification. He flicked his tail and stamped a hoof. Who in their right mind would be out in this weather? The rain had let up a bit, but the wind still gusted though the trees.

"Hello? You are out in this weather, like a stupid human." his mind supplied.

"Shut up brain." Sam muttered and stepped closer to the man on the ground.

Or rather the creature on the ground, lightening crashed overhead causing Sam to get a good look at the gigantic wings sprouting from the guy's back. The one under his body looked to be in bad shape, it was bent wrong., like it couldn't fold in all the way properly. Rolling the man onto his back, Sam was able to see why, the muscle had been torn or severed really, it was hard to tell out here, this was on top of the bruises, cuts, and was that a ibite mark/i? Several of them looked to be scattered across the stranger's skin. Either way, Sam needed to get himself and this man, bird, thing out of the rain and somewhere safe and dry. Sam as gently as he could picked up the stranger and settled him onto his back, arms wrapped around him bracing him against Sam's back. Being careful to not jostle his wings, Sam began the trek back to his home. The lilies would have to wait for now.

Sam unlocked the door, let it swing open and carefully stepped through and set his cargo on the bed. He quickly shut the door and shifted into his two legged form, grabbing his robe and some basic medical supplies from his shelves. There was a groan from the bed and Sam stepped over to Dean.

"It's okay, you're safe now, my name's Sam."

"Dean..." came the weak reply.

"It'll be alright now Dean, you're safe."

Sam maneuvered Dean to the center of the bed, being careful to take care spreading out his wings., even injured they were huge and took up most of the space on the rather large bed. The left one appeared to be fine, just wet and its feathers ruffled. The right however, the membrane and muscles of it were torn. Sam had no idea how Dean had wound up in the woods, but flying would have still been possible, albeit very painful. This was on top of all the scratches and several bite marks on Dean's body. The scratches looked like nail or claw marks and the bite marks looked to have been made by fangs, a mouthful of them. While inspecting Dean's right wing, Sam began to think about what could be the cause of such a wound and just what Dean could be.

Centaurs were not the only mythical creature in their world, merfolk existed, so did kelpie, fairies, vampires, werewolves and all kinds of magical beings. There were whispers of demons. but most people didn't believe in them. Another creature that there were whispers of, were angels. Angels it was said, were the protectors of this world once upon a time, they fought and banished the darkness of the world to the other realms. They were successful for the most part, but bits of evil and darkness remained, feeding on the innocent. Dean's wings reminded Sam of the stories his mother had told him of angels, but he had never heard of one having black wings before.

The tear in the wing wasn't bleeding and looked to be a clean cut, so Sam set about cleaning and bandaging the other wounds. A few required some stitches, Sam winced as he cleaned out and stitched up a vicious looking bite on Dean's arm. Whatever this guy had been though, it had been nasty and he was lucky to be alive. Sam then turned his full attention to the wing. It took time and required several delicate stitches and wrapping but Sam was able to make sure it would heal well and not impede Dean's ability to fly. Sam was smoothing the feathers down when he realized that he had left behind his basket. He needed the flowers, so back out it was. Thankfully the storm had moved on, though the sky was occasionally lit by lightening. Dean was still out and if he was quick, Sam could be back without him ever knowing Sam had left. Sam shifted back as he stepped through the door again and took off at the steady trot.

The basket was where he had left it, Sam gathered the flowers that had been blown out of it and saw a glint of silver from under a tangle of brush. Pulling the leaves back, Sam saw what appeared to be a long dagger on the ground. He picked it and the basket up and wenr back home. Dean hadn't moved from his spot on the bed, Sam shifted again, stumbling slightly and yawning, this many shifts were beginning to wear on him. Sam sat his things down and quickly got dressed in a pair of trousers and a tunic. After checking on Dean, Sam stumbled into a nearby chair and watched him through the night.

The next morning Sam was redressing the bite on Dean's arm when he woke up gasping and grabbed Sam as he sat up.

"Where am I?" Dean demanded, eyes glassy with fever.

"It's okay Dean, you're at my house, you were injured, my name's Sam." Sam pried off Dean's hand from its spot on Sam's arm. "It's alright, you just need to rest."

"The vampires, where are they?"

"Vampires? There aren't any near here Dean." "Why would he ask that?" Sam wondered. As far as Sam knew, vampires hadn't been sighted in or near this forest in over a century. He'd ask one of the elder centaurs if they knew, but a lot of good it would do now.

"It's alright." he soothed. "You need your rest if you're going to heal all these wounds properly." He eased Dean back down onto the bed. "If you move too much you'll tear your stitches open."

As it was, the sleep would help get rid of the fever as well, Sam could feel Dean's heart racing as he checked his pulse and wiped Dean's forehead and chest. Amid ramblings of vampires, Dean fell asleep again.

It took two days, but the fever had finally broken. Sam laid stretched out in a chair he moved next to the foot of the bed, his feet propped on the edge, crossed at the ankles. He snored lightly, his nose twitching slightly as Dean woke up and actually saw where he was for the first time. It appeared to be a rather sizable cottage, from where he was, Dean could see the front door, a doorway on the right leading off to the rest of the cottage and it looked like he was in the bedroom and living room area. There were flowers and herbs drying from the rafters, lavender, rosemary and thyme from the smell.

It was then that Dean really was able to focus on the man at the end of the bed. He was tall, good looking, albeit in a tired sort of way, and Dean was wondering what color his eyes were when Sam woke up.

"You're awake." Sam rumbled, yawning and getting up to stretch his back. "How do you feel?"

"Just great." came the sarcastic reply.

"You'll be flying by tomorrow." Sam responded as he checked bandages, making note of which needed replacing and the state of Dean's stitches., equally sarcastic.

"Really?"

"No. You've got stitches and a torn or cut wing. It'll be a while." Sam reached for his dwindling supply of bandages, he'd need to make more soon, luckily Dean didn't need that many replaced.

"My wing?" Dean saw the white wrapped around black feathers. "Oh. It was cut not torn. How is it?"

"Figured as much. The cut was clean, but it needed a lot of stitches, and I would be very careful with it, don't want to tear it open. How did you cut it?" Sam asked as he removed old bandages, checking and cleaning the wounds they covered.

"Sword fight." Dean replied. He smiled as Sam worked quickly and gave him a cup of water. "Thank you. Did you find a blade where I was? It would have looked like a long dagger."

"Yes. It's on the counter in my kitchen. I wasn't sure what to do with it. I'll get it in a moment." Sam finished up with the bandages, cleaned up the soiled ones and stood to go to the kitchen.

"Are you hungry? I've got some cheese and bread, soup, apples and dried beef if you're interested."

"Soup would be nice."

"Alright then, be right back."

Sam quickly walked into his kitchen, setting the bandages in a container to be burned later and began setting up a tray. He dished up a bowl of of soup from the pot bubbling in front of the fire., checking to see how the flame was. He added a slice of bread and a few apple slices in case Dean wanted to try something more solid. He also added a small pitcher of water and went back to Dean's bedside, after tucking the sword under his arm. He set the tray across Dean's lap and laid the sword on the bedside table.

"Thank you." Dean said, tucking into the bowl before him. "Mmm, vegetable."

"You're welcome." Sam replied, he had started the soup while Dean slept and was please to know it was well received.

Dean had finished most of the bowl when he decided that he had had enough and the tray was cleared away."And thank you for bringing my sword back."

"Not a problem. Why would you need one, if you don't mid my asking?" Sam had weapons of his own, but his curiosity was winning out with Dean.

"Why doesn't anyone?" Dean replied, picking it up. As his fingers wrapped around the hilt, the blade lengthened and burst into flame, purple flame.

"What the hell?" Sam burst out, scrambling out of his chair and back.

"That's new, the flame's normally orange. But then given my new status, it's not surprising."

"What's not surprising? What are you?" Sam demanded.

Dean glanced at Sam and put the sword down on the bed, the blade fizzling out and shrinking back to its old size. "The color of the flame. Given what I am now, the color change isn't surprising."

"What are you?"

"An angel. A fallen one now."

Sam's jaw dropped in shock. "An- an angel? Is that why your wings are black as well?"

"Looks like it." Dean rumbled, lying back down. He angled his uninjured wing closer for a look. The feathers were a glossy black and the light reflected off the feathers in flashes of blue, green and a light gold color. "They weren't always black. That must have happened afterwards."

"After what?"

"The fight. Before they were a golden brown color, like toffee." Dean settled the wing back and made himself more comfortable.

"Could you tell me about the fight? When I found you, you were a mess." Sam asked.

"Sure. If you sit back down."

Sam nodded and Dean began to talk.