Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters, I only own the plot, and any oc's.

Hypothetically let's just assume that after the fall, angels' wings are not as damaged as the show, well, shows.

The story takes place in season 10 after episode 18.

Wings

Holy fire flicked red and hot at his feet, trapping him in a fiery red circle, defenceless to his black-eyed captor. He felt such a fool to let himself lose his blade; be captured by such hellspawn, but for what purpose? He did not know. He had been summoned, tricked. Trapped in some abandoned warehouse. The demon had said nothing as of yet; he had kept his back turned, scanning over something. Muttering. His 'soul' was monstrous, black, evil, and impure. He was a demon of higher rank, that much was clear. Ugly filth.

The demon began to mutter something; something too pure to escape the lips of such a creature. Enochian. That should not be possible. No demon he could remember knew the language of the angels. It was secret to angels and God; so one of them must have spilled. "Who taught you that?"

The demon paused, "oh, you know, a servant of evil to some, justice to others." It went back to speaking Enochian, violating the words with its vial tongue. He did not yet know what he was saying.

"That does not answer my question."

It chuckled, finishing whatever it was saying, "Well, let's just say they learnt a little something from that angel tablet," he gestured at something.

He frowned, turning his gaze away for just a moment to were the demon had indicated, and what he saw chilled him to this vessels bones. "They could not have- the tablet was destroyed!"

The demon took something long and silver of the table. His angel blade. How dare a demon touch such a pure weapon. It began to mutter something else. He realised what he was saying. No… "What are you-" Suddenly, he found he could not move.

The demon stepped over the holy oil, unharmed; he was far too close. "The spell works across all angels you know- and now everybody is going to know you are here. Fighting your lot just got a whole lot easier."

With that, it brought the blade down.

The angel screamed.

The bunker was beginning to feel like home. Though, Cas supposed the only place that was his home was where Sam and Dean were, whether it be a hotel room, the Impala, or the Bunker. Nevertheless, the current time frequently signalled the wake of the Winchester brothers, unless there was a case or alcohol involved. With his grace somewhat restored, and his wings back, he no longer needed to sleep. He simply waited while the brothers rested, either by watching Dean or by sitting in his own room. Unless he too had to attend to other matters. Other matters normally involved finding a way to rid Dean of the Mark of Cain. So far, he had been unsuccessful.

So, he got up, stretched the remnants wings, and made his way to the kitchen, where he knew the brothers would be. He imagined that Dean would likely be drinking alcohol again, not coping with the mark, and Sam not eating much at all. Sam would have likely taken longer to get to the kitchen as he preferred to attend to grooming rituals before he ate.

As Cas entered the room dedicated to consumption, the wafting smell of coffee and toast entered his nose, and he felt himself long for the ability to taste again. Though, he would not trade his grace for it. The coffee surprised him; it was an improvement. The brothers were otherwise as he had predicted, though Sam was not seated at the table, focussed on finding a way to help Dean. Instead, he was standing, frozen; gaze fixed on him. Cas tilted his head, "Sam?"

Sam appeared half amazed and half shocked. At what, Cas was not entirely certain. He couldn't remember changing anything of his appearance that might startle the brothers.

Sam gave a half smile at him, "Dean look."

Dean shook his head, drawing his attention away from his breakfast to look at Sam, "at what?"

Sam pointed, and Dean turned his gaze to him. His back straightened. "Woah. Nice wings, Cas."

What… how? In confusion, he turned his head. They should not- and there they were. His pair of massive, mangled wings. Visible, and black. They were folded, as he always did inside the bunker- having such a large wingspan could prove hindering in terms of finesse, even in their current state. Unfortunately, they seemed to have ripped through his coat. He frowned, "I don't understand; they are not meant to be visible to the human eye."

Dean got up, coffee in hand, eyes wandering over his damaged wings, "then why can we see them now?"

He squirmed under Dean's gaze, pulling his wings in tighter. He did not want Dean to see him like this, "I don't know… please stop looking; they are… impure."

Dean frowned, brow squinted. "What, why? They're amazing. Sure, they are a little weather-worn, but their friggen wings man.

He shook his head; brushing off the compliment, Dean didn't understand. "They are a manifestation of my grace, Dean, or whatever was left of it. They were damaged by events... as my grace was." But that isn't what I am talking about.

Both the brothers seemed to understand what he meant. A look of guilt flashed over their faces for a moment; it lingered longer on Sam. Dean, however, soon smiled, and his face turned… warmer? "Well, I think they're beautiful Cas," he said.

He felt his feathers ruffle against his will; he let them unfold slightly, a shiver running down them "I- uh- "

Sam suddenly clapped his hands together, "right well. I think now might be a really good time for me to get some milk," he said, before promptly making his way to the door that led to the garage.

He frowned, head tilted in confusion, "Dean I don't understand. There is plenty of milk in the fridge; Sam did not need to leave."

Dean was suddenly bright red, and he was rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. "Don't worry about it Cas."

"Okay, Dean."

Having reached the nearest town, and having gone for a long walk, Sam decided he had better get some milk, for continuities sake. He wondered when his brother would grow a pair and make a move. He shook his head and continued down to the closest store that stocked in-date milk.

A more troubling matter was Cas' wings. Another problem that had to deal with; if it was a problem, that is. Cas had said they were a physical manifestation of his grace, so maybe they worked a bit like hellhounds, only purer. Hellhounds were a manifestation of evil, and only visible under certain circumstances. So what made them visible? That, he didn't know yet. He supposed he would have to hit the books, like always. Though, there was something nagging in the back of his mind, a possible explanation. For some reason, he couldn't quite figure out what it was.

It would be quite interesting, seeing Cas hanging around with his wings out. They seemed to work a bit like bird wings, and behaved the same way in terms of indicating emotion. Good luck hiding your feelings for Dean now, he couldn't help but think. He supposed, however, that Cas had never really hidden his feelings. Dean just wasn't really good at accepting or recognising that kind of thing. He seemed to limit himself to pick up lines as a sign of attraction. He was certain that Dean felt something for Cas, but he didn't think it was being in the closet that was stopping him anymore. He was probably afraid Cas didn't feel the same, and vice versa. But deep down he believed that the two did know, but were just afraid. Maybe I should teach Cas some pick-up lines, he thought humouredly.

Shaking his head, he turned the corner to a large crowd of people of all ages, all with their phones out; at the centre of the crowd was a man on a pedestal. Things scatted at his feet. He seemed to be having quite the effect on the crowd. Curious, he made his way over.

The man on the stool made a wide gesture with his arm, "it is true, angels live among us!"

Okay. Not good. He took his own phone out and went into video.

"They are evil creatures. Not servants of heaven! God does not protect them; for they did not protect us!"

Not all of them, he thought, thinking of Cas, Anna, Joshua, Samandrial, and maybe even Gabriel. Though, the crowd seemed to agree with the man, judging by their reaction.

"Where were they when our children are dying? Our countries at war?"

Someone in the crowd called out, "not here!"

Where is he going with this? He wondered.

"And I have proof!" the man reached down for something, seemingly covered. The crowd gasped, and Sam felt his blood run cold.

The man held up a great, white wing. Its feathers were bent in all the wrong directions, and some of the larger ones were missing. Some parts of the flesh didn't have any feathers at all. They were fallen, like Cas' were. Blood had dried when the wing would have once been joined to the angel. "God has given us a gift, for now, we can see their wings, and defeat them!" The man seemed to take in the crowd's reaction, drawing a deep, satisfied breath, "and I can tell you how to defeat them, for it is also possible."

Shit. The man didn't seem to be much, but so many people were listening, and filming. If the man truly did know what he was talking about, Cas was in danger. They all were. The man needed to be stopped. But how?He couldn't just take him out, not with this many supporters. He wouldn't make it out alive. Maybe.

And if was true, that all angel's wings were visible, it was small wonder the crowd showed no scepticism and a big problem for the angels.

"Holy Oil can trap them, if made into a circle," the man grabbed something else. Holy oil, Sam realised as the man poured it over the wing, "it can burn them too," he set it alight.

Sam felt sick as he watched the white feathers turn a dark coal black. Like Cas, he realised. The feather soon started to sinder and flake away, leaving charred flesh underneath. The smell made him want to retch- someone in the crowd did.

"Only three things can kill an angel," the man said, "God, and he isn't going to be doing that."

The crowd hummed in agreement.

"Two, angels; that doesn't happen too often."

Sam almost scoffed. You would be surprised.

"And three, their own weapons," the man said, reaching for something else. An angel blade. "You find an angel; you find it's blade.

Not needing to hear much more, Sam made his escape, stopping the recording. He made a call. "Dean, I think we have a problem."

"I don't understand, where is the milk?"

He shook his head, flushed "never mind that Cas, we have a problem on our hands. Another one." The video proved that all too well. He hadn't quite believed what Sam was saying over the phone; the 'preacher' could have just been off his meds, or so he had hoped. He turned to his brother, hoping to find some answers; he always seemed to be able to pull facts out the place where light didn't shine. "How do you think he came across all that lore?"

Sam shrugged, taking a seat, "I don't know, maybe he was a hunter, out for revenge. Maybe he was a demon; he could be anything."

That was true; the video didn't show too much, no changing eyes. They couldn't exactly test the video to see if it was a demon or something else… could they. He'd have to look into that later. "Did you test him?"

Sam's shoulders went up, like they always did when he was frustrated and yet embarrassed about something. "I tried to follow him after I called you, but he slipped me."

"He slipped you?"

Cas's wings flared up, and not in a friendly way, "maybe it was a demon."

He ran his hand over his chin, "maybe. That would explain why he wants you all dead."

Cas's wings tightened, "but It doesn't explain how it did this to my brethren. This violation of our grace."

A thought occurred to him, "can you turn them invisible again?"

Cas squinted his eyes, wings flaring again, "do you really think I haven't tried that already."

Dean winced; he didn't like seeing Cas like this, all on edge. He guessed that wings were a personal thing, probably because they were a manifestation of his grace, as Cas had said. He knew why Cas was so sensitive about his wings, damaged grace equalled damaged wings. What he didn't get was why Cas thought they were impure. Sure, Cas had done some things, but he had the best intentions. He was the furthest thing from impure that he knew.

Myself, on the other hand… He scratched absentmindedly at the mark.

Plus, they were wings, great, beautiful wings. He had always kind of wanted to see them. Say something, dammit, a not so quiet voice inside him said.

Before he had the chance, Sam broke the silence, "can you sense him in the town, Cas?"

The angel in question shook his head, "no; he must be using something to hide himself, or he isn't a demon."

His brother frowned, "could he be a human, hiding himself from you?"

Cas nodded in confirmation, "yes."

Dean sighed, "well, we got work to do."

Two of the 'weeks' that humans used to measure time had passed, Dean still had the mark, and his wings were still physically manifested. He had grown somewhat used to it; having them visible made it easier to be aware of where they were. Bumping into things was becoming less frequent. He did not like to look at them; they disgusted him.

Cas didn't like the brothers looking at them, particularly Dean, who seemed insistent on doing that very thing. Dean wasn't repulsed though, which surprised him. Dean looked at them more in awe, which surprised him more.

He felt that if Dean truly knew what their appearance meant, he would not look at them so.

The younger of the brothers, however, just seemed fascinated with them, which was… understandable. Sam always had an interest in learning all things lore. Sam had been researching relentlessly for a way to reverse what had happened, and also seemed to find it relevant to teach him 'pick-up lines', and something about 'Han Solo.'

Dean had been tracking the man in the video; it was definitely the first to preach such information to the public. So far it had slipped away right before they reached it thrice. The scene that Sam had filmed had also been recorded by many others, and had spread all over the internet, particularly the 'tube of you.' The videos were gaining too much attention, and so were his brethren in turn. Many angels were turning up dead, either on the news, in the town, or somewhere on the planet.

They were being hunted, like beasts.

He cancelled out of the online news article, reporting the death of another angel; pure white wings cut off and missing. No longer were wings burning into the ground, now they were fetching a price.

Quite abruptly, Dean entered the room he and Sam were in, making his wings jolt in surprise. "Dean?" he asked, startled.

"I think I found our guy again."

Sam slammed his book shut, "what, where?"

"In town, he is preaching there right now. Internet's gone wild."

Cas frowned, uncertain. How could he be sure… "Are you certain? Is he a demon?"

Dean shook his head, "It's the guy from the video, that I'm sure. What he is, I don't know. But the trunk is full, I've got the mark, and we're losing time."

Sam stood up, "Right then, let's get going."

Agreeing, Cas got up, preparing himself to leave. He was looking forward to having his wings hidden once again, and his brethren safe. This had gone on far too long.

Abruptly, Dean put a hand on his shoulder, gentle, but it still stopped him in his tracks. His fingers brushed his wings ever so lightly, and he could help but shiver. He just hoped his wings didn't do the same.

"Oh no, you're staying put."

"I'm an angel, Dean."

Dean removed his hand, "Exactly; you are a prime target now."

He flared his wings, spreading them slightly to make himself look bigger; "my brothers and sisters are in danger!"

Instead of backing down, Dean pushed him down into the chair roughly, so his wings folded uncomfortably, "So are you! Angels are dying, Cas. Dying. And I can't… I can't-"

With that, Dean turned away, and left.

"He is just doing this because he's afraid to lose you," Sam said softly.

"I know."

And so, Sam left too.

He was alone.