Dean didn't know why he had soft feathers rustling against his back. He tried to be a good monster. Thinking if he did everything his father told him maybe he could be good. He was a big boy now at eight he took care of Sammy and food when his father wasn't home. His father had even started training him to start hunting. He had learned how to do a "sit up" and "push –up" and he knew salt should go in the door and lot of other big boy stuff. Mommy had known about the feathers. He had thought Daddy had too but now he wasn't so sure. He was scared his father would not love him anymore if he saw. So he made sure to change in the bathroom and wear extra big shirts. When he had felt brave enough to peek at them in the mirror one time, he had discovered that they were attached to the length of his shoulder blade. They were small which made them easy to hide. Much too small to fly. If he had been older, he would have noticed that flight would be impossible at the moment even if they were larger since they were made up of soft downy puffs and the necessary primary flight feathers had not yet grown in. His wings were pearly white with electric blue ridges as if the feather tips had been dipped in lightning. Dean would have been mortified if he understood why his mommy use to call him her cute cubby cupid. He was just pulling his socks on in the motel room bed he shared with Sammy so he could pad across the cold floor to the bathroom when Sammy went crazy throwing the covers back wildly and yelling nonsense. The four year had been sleeping peacefully only seconds ago and the sudden explosion nearly closed Dean to wobble off the side of the bed.
"Sammy, it just a dream," Dean pointed out trying to calm his little brother. "See you 're awake now." He poked Sam in the chest with one finger to prove his point. Normally this would start a tussle between the two brothers but instead brown puppy eyes locked on Dean.
"I don't want to train outside today, it's cold" pouted Sammy. Dean rolled his eyes sliding off the bed and headed toward the bathroom before Sammy could claim it.
"It's been sunny all week and hot. Besides you know when Dad not here we have to train inside the motel room anyway," Dean pointed out.
For breakfast the food was almost gone John had left the boys almost no money and less food. He had left Friday. It was now Sunday. Dean had rationed as best he could for an eight year old. He stared sadly at the small box of Lucky Charms that was the last item in the cabinets. He hoped Dad would be back before dinner or he would have to adventure outside to look through the trash again or try to steal some retables from the neighbor garden and Dad would be really mad if he left the motel especially if he left Sammy alone. His stomach growled.
"I'm hungry," Sammy called form the table head support by his hand's elbows on the table puppy eyes locked on the box in Dean hand. Signing Dean poured the cereal into a bowl for Sammy. There was barely enough for one person much less two and Dean was trying to be good. Besides he hated when Sammy was sad. "Dean no eat?" question Sammy cheeks full of cereal.
"Lucky charms are for little kids," huffed Dean sticking out his chest to show Sammy that he was a big boy.
The room rattled as the door slammed open. Dean finger loosened on the cool metal of the shotgun when he realized it was there father. Maybe he would have brought more food?
"Boys time to get off your lazy asses and train," snapped John. Dean could smell the alcohol as it wafted from the door.
"De, I don't want to go outside," Sammy whispers in Dean ear in the back seat of the Impala as the car bumps roughly over another pot hole.
"Shhh Sammy," hisses Dean. He was trying to memorize the street signs as they zoom by. Dad had left a duffle at the motel meaning he was planning to return. Left, left right passed the little stream another left…. Unfortunately Sammy was still getting the hang of whispering.
"Winchesters are tough. If you boys are going to be living under my roof you are going to need to learn how to hunt and the first step was to be able to survive." The car had entered a dirt path that didn't do the classic car suspension any favors. Thickening trees started to block out the sky until the car had entered into deep woods. A few minutes later the car came to a sudden halt.
"Get out," snarled John. The boys quickly obeyed. John grabbed two pieces of black fabric from the passenger seat and a small shot gun. "Come here." Dean approached nervously followed slowly by Sam. A large hand engulfed Dean's small shoulder dragging him the last few steps to stand in front of this father. He hoped Dad would not feel the bulges on his back. John gave no sign he did he just tied the fabric roughly over Deans eyes. "now don't take the bind fold off, boy." Dean didn't dare try to take it off but he was very careful to count his steps and remember the changes in direction as Dad marched them into the woods by their arms. The march came to a sudden halt an hour later or so. Dean eye flew open as the blind fold was roughly removed but the quickly shut when his eyes couldn't stand the sudden intake in light. John shoved the shot gun into Dean's arms. Then he turned his back on his sons and started marching away calling over his shoulder as he went "you wait till I'm out of sight then find your way back to the car. You better be back before the sun goes down or I'm heading back to the motel and you'll have to walk there too. And I'll beat your ass if you try to follow me back."
Dad was abandoning him? And Sammy? How… how could he do that? First mom left him now dad was leaving him. Dean's heart squeezed in his chest and he blinked harder as his vision grew burry. No Dad wasn't leaving him he just wanted Dean and Sammy to be strong. Dean was a big boy he would find his way back. He would be the best hunter and dad would still love him and not leave him again. Dean waited until his father was out of sight than hurried in the direction he remembered walking in retracing his blindfolded steps. Sammy's little hand curled around Dean. Under normal circumstances Dean would have told him to let go Sammy was giving him baby coodies but at the moment he was grateful for the contact. It allowed him to keep track of Sammy while keeping most of his attention on trying to remember his steps. He glanced up at the sky notice the position of the sun in the sky. They passed a stream but it was down a rather steep incline and lots and lots of trees. After 30 minutes of walking Dean's little 8-year-old legs were tired and the shot gun felt like a ton of concreate in his fist. Sammy had had enough,
"I'm tired," whined Sam. So was Dean but it was getting dark and Sammy's legs were much shorter than his big brother's. The air was growing murky as dust set in and while there was still plenty of light to see by it wouldn't last long.
"Don't be a girl. We have to keep going," This apparently wasn't the right approach because little Sammy had had enough. Crossing his pudgy fists across his chest he plopped down on the dirt a pout like an oncoming train combined with puppy eyes. Dean was doomed.
"No! I no walk no more." Dean placed the shotgun on the ground. Dad would be furious but it was making his arm go numb and if he had to carry one thing back to the motel it was going to be his brother.
"Sam, we have to get back to Dad," argued Dean kneeling in front of Sammy. It felt so good to sit down for a moment.
"NO!" yelled Sammy puppy eyes turning into a glare "Daddy mean. I don't want to go back!" Dean glared back at Sammy this time. How could Sammy say something like that about their Dad?
"Sammy dad loves you. We have to go back. We're family we have to stay together." Dean sat in front of Sam pulling his arms around his neck. Doing his best to give Sam a piggy back ride. Sam was just too small to understand. When he was older he would get it. Family was supposed to stay together.
Normally, Dean would have freak out if Sammy touched his back. What if he felt the inhuman lumps beneath his shirt? Luckily Sam was too exhausted to do anything but lock his little hands around Dean's neck. Besides Dean's jacket two sizes too big and bunched weirdly on its own. Dean glanced one last time at the shot gun as he started walking but as it was, he could barely carry the four-year-old. A sharp tug on Dean's ear stopped the trudge a few minutes later.
"Not that way," Sam ordered. Dean frowned, hefting Sammy up again his legs hurt from walking and Sammy's weight was crushing his wings. It was nearly completely dark and he could barely see anything at all. Please don't leave us daddy.
"Sam that's the way back," Dean stated continuing forward as best as he could.
"We were here before," argued Sam. Dean has a moment of panic. Has he been walking in a circle? But no there was an odd-looking rock formation that looks like a frog he would have remembered that.
"No, we haven't." Dean glances over his shoulder to glare at his brother to show him whose knows best and winds up nearly dropping him instead. For a moment, just a moment Dean might have sworn hazel eyes are highlighted with ruby red that reflex like those of a cat's in the dim light but then he blinks and hazel eyes blink back. No. Dean's the freak. Not Sam. Never Sammy.
Dean took another heavy step; leaves crunching under his small sneakers. The warm summer air decided to take a noise dive following the sun below the horizon. A small cloud puffed out in front of Dean's face as Sam exhaled on Dean's shoulder.
"Cold De," whimpered Sammy "Just like my dream." The little arms around his neck as Sam fought to be let down. Sam managed to get both feet on the ground and both his little hands wrapped around Dean's. Sam leaned at a 45 degree angle trying to pull the larger boy in the opposite direction.
An inky shadow slipped between the underbrush toward the children unnoticed. The soft pad of paws on the hard earth was but a whisper. The midnight fur was only broken by two yellow stars that are the beast's eyes and they are fix intently on its prey. It snuffles as the cool night breeze blows the boys scents closer. One reminds him of home, he smells of raw power, fire and blood. The second scent his less pleasant to the beast he smells of rainstorms, open skies and small fluttering things. Pointed ears swivel back and lips pull back revealing yellow canines and a low growl resonates. His prey freezes. Searching the darkness for it. The small one eyes gleam with reflexed fire and he points. The hound has lost the element of surprise but it was no matter. The children turn to run and it lunges. He keeps up at a lazy trot teasingly snapping at their heels enjoying their fear. Playing with its food was such fun. They near the edge of his territory, bordered by a midsized ravine and it knows the hunt has come to an end. Jaws lunge for the small one's throat but close around the large one's upper arm.
Salt tears run down Sam cheek as he screams as the wolf latches on to Dean's arm. The huge rectangular head shakes the boy side to side. Dean had spun Sam out of the jaws path but had got bitten in the process. The four-year-old balls his tiny fists and does the only thing a four-year-old knows how to do in the face of danger. He screams.
"Let De go!" Hazel bleeds to ruby. The effect was immediate. The dog whines as if it had been struck and drops Dean as if he had just been scolded for chewing on a favorite shoe. But the black dog recovers quickly its hatred turning to the four-year-old. It steps forward pushing little Sam closer and closer to the rock cliff behind the child. Sam was trapped and the dog knows it. It snarls drool and blood drip from it muzzle. Sam's heels cause rocks to tumble over the drop. He can see tops of trees below him. It was a long, long way down.
Dean's arm felt like it was on fire. A terrified scream ripped through the air and then all Dean knew was the dog was leaping toward Sammy. Dean didn't think. Ripping off his coat he threw it at the dog and then tackled Sammy off the side of the cliff. Wings spreading for the first time desperately scooping air. The dog missed Sam jaws snapping closed with a mouthful of feathers. A gun shot sounded. Dean barely heard the explosion of sound or the pain of the plucked feathers. Whether it was because his wings were too small or the loss of feathers or simply the strain of carrying two people it was too much. His wings flapped uselessly as the boys plummeted.