If something has the capacity to go wrong it will.
Dean groaned and shuffled his body, trying to get into a more comfortable position. Slowly moving to lie on his back; he found something to be in his way stopping him from turning over. Sighing loudly he blearily opened his eyes, his head pounding like a jackhammer. His eyes focused on a feather resting idly in front of him. He tried to bat away the large white intrusion, but hit something. His slowly focusing mind told him was soft and warm and that the object was just out of his range of vision. Deciding he had had enough because wow his head hurt and he'd come to the conclusion that maybe it would be best if he never drank again (lie), he tried to turn over fully deciding not caring about the feathers, bird, or whatever the hell it was behind him. He just wanted to sleep damn it!
Urging his sleep addled muscles to move, he was soon stopped in his tracks. There was a sharp pain in his back area, which seemed to be getting worse as he stayed in this position. Dean rolled onto his side, breathing in sharply as he did. This seemed to help judging by the fading pain. Knowing he wasn't going to get anymore sleep that night (morning?) he pulled himself from the bed and onto his feet. A more difficult task then it sounded.
Hopefully he wasn't missing a limb he thought to himself as he moved towards the mirror. Most of his motor function were working properly now, but he could still feel the effect of whatever he'd drunk last night. Last time he was trying anything with the word 'Russian' in its name.
Any thoughts he was thinking after that abruptly stopped when he gazed into the mirror. He looked like shit. That was to be expected, he'd guessed as much from the headache and overall weariness earlier. What he hadn't expected was not so much as missing a limb, but gaining two new ones. Two huge white wings were behind him, so big they almost touched the floor. They almost seemed to be radiating their own sort of light, looking way to clean to be near him in his filth ridden state. Closing his eyes for a few brief seconds, he breathed in deeply hoping desperately that when he opened them that they would be gone. Opening his eyes his hope crashed and burned faster than a hot air balloon in a firestorm, they were still there twitching innocently.
Slowly he moved his hands back smoothing his hands over the feathers. They were smooth, but not quite what he had imagined feathers to feel. This was seriously freaky. Some sort of curse maybe? But even drunk as he was he wouldn't have let a witch do this to him if he could help it. Something like this would take time and planning…..
He groaned, who had he pissed off this time and whatever these were they better not be permanent.
I'm sorry if this is really bad I haven't written anything in ages, I have no idea if this is good. This is just a one shot right now, since it's about 4:30 in the morning here and I just had to get this out of my system. If it gets enough interest, or I get hit by my muse who knows? Also sorry if my characterisation was bad, I've only watched half of fifth season :L If you spot any errors please let me now!
