"You have goddamned fucking wings!" Dean shouted.

Cas' eyes widened at Dean's exclamation. He wearily looked behind him and quickly found the reason for both Dean and Sam's surprise and awe and the reason for the weight and pain on his shoulders that kept making him wish to crumple in on himself. Two long, feathery wings were draped from his back and hung limply on either side of his body.

"That's...not supposed to be there," he said, almost comically before turning from the scene to both Sam, who was still standing in awe, and Dean, who was lost in the majesty and ridiculousness of it all.

"I..." Cas continued, becoming a little panicked, "I'm not able to manifest my wings. My vessel wasn't made to support them. Human vessels can't possibly be strong enough."

"Why did Rowena want this?" Sam asked after he pushed his eyes from the spell of Cas' wings to the angel's face.

Cas shook his head with a look of intense worry, "I don't know. But this isn't natural. Archangels have the ability to display corporal manifestations of their wings but...but I don't. And even then, it's only for a short time, for display, for awe."

Cas stopped talking when Dean's hand landed on his bare shoulder.

"Hey. We're going to figure this out, okay? We'll find Rowena and make her undo whatever she did," he said. "By the way, so succeeding on the awe thing. Just so you know."

Castiel gave a worried rising of one side of his mouth.

Sam approached the angel and crouched down, speaking softly in that way Sam often did when trying to reassure someone. Dean was grateful for it, because he did not seem to have access to that ability.

"Can you move them? Your wings? It'd probably be a good idea to get you out of here in case

Rowena decides to make an actual appearance. It'd be easier if you could maneuver them," Sam said.

Castiel raised his eyebrows at the question. He looked off to the side, concentrating on the state of his physical form, focusing on what exactly had changed. He nodded, uncertainly.

"My grace has...mapped them into my mind. I can see that, now. I'm...aware of their presence," he answered, measured. "My vessel has also been altered, I believe. Muscles and...bone augmentation. Respiratory system..." he added with a curious squint.

Then Cas looked back behind him again to get an idea of what was surrounding him. He was careful to account for the support columns on either side as his wings rose, inch by inch, with muscles that hadn't existed minutes before. The angel was tired and the weariness was etched on his face as he bent his head forward giving all of energy to the aching muscles lifting his wings.

The sight was stunning, to say the least. The color of Cas' wings was hard to identify clearly. They were light but it was uncertain if they were light grey or light brown or light gold or a mixture of all. They weren't pure white, that was certain.

He was still on his knees but had risen his wings to above his head. And, despite Cas' uncertainty with the naturalness of the physical manifestation of the otherwise trans-dimensional wavelengths his wings usually were, the stretch felt...satisfying. Though it was also tiring.

"Wow, man," said Dean.

"That's...that's actually really cool," Sam agreed, gawking at the 20 foot display.

The wings reached high enough to be back-lit by the lights behind the angel. It was something from a Renaissance painting. It was living art.

The wings fluttered there for a bit before settling down in a light woosh of air at the sides of Castiel's shoulders, draping stiffly on the floor behind him, crossed at the tips. Cas decided that this seemed to be a more comfortable neutral position than before. He likened it, in his mind, to having his arms at his side.

He looked up to the brothers and said, "We should go now."

The brothers nodded distractedly.

"Uh, yeah," Sam muttered. "You need help standing?"

A beat of thought passed before Cas grunted in agreement. Each brother grabbed an arm and hoisted him up. Cas' body started listing backward at the weight of the wings but the brothers were careful to correct for it. After balance had been regained Castiel was steadier, but still accepted the support.

"I'll get your things," Sam said moving to gather Cas' coat and other clothes they'd taken off.

"My phone," Cas said, lazily holding up on arm in indication, "Rowena used her magic to throw it that way as I was contacting you."

It wasn't the wings that were making Cas so unsteady, he realized, but the exhaustion from producing them from his grace. He leaned heavily on Dean.

They had jibbed him about not having a smart phone but Castiel had insisted that basic phones were less distracting. Sam found himself thankful for the decision now because a smart device would not have been as durable. Still, the phone parts had scattered along the concrete floor. Sam gathered them in his hands.

"Uh," Sam said, stuffing the remnants into his pants pocket, "Maybe we can put it back together at the bunker. If not, we'll just get you a new one."

Sam returned to Cas' side and they started leading him out Dean saying, "No idea how I'm gonna fit you in the car, man."

"I can't walk," Castiel said with earnest concern, taking the comment literally, "And I'm sure I can't fly..."

"No, no. We'll get you in there. Might not be comfortable but..." Dean gave a shrug.

When the trio left the warehouse a figure stepped into the light from a shadow where the lights had remained blown out. Rowena casually made note of the ground around the angel trap until she found something glimmering, stuck to the oil dregs of the circle.

Daintily, the redhead picked up the feather and turned it in the light with a soft smile and then a disappointed squint.

"Well, Ferguson, looks like we'll have to make due with one for now," she said as she turned behind her.

Crowley walked out slowly and took the feather from her.

"Good idea making the duplicate," he admitted grudgingly as he, too, spun the light colored feather between his fingers watching the iridescence change its hue ever so slightly.

"The Winchesters are endlessly predictable," she muttered with a huff. "I am surprised that Dean shot me so readily. We seemed to be getting on so well before..."

"Oh, I'm not, mother. You messed with his things," Crowley said with a smirk. "Hard rules with Dean are not to touch the Moose or the winged martyr. Honestly, I think we did them a favor. Didn't really fit the role of angel before, did he?"

Rowena shrugged, "There's no contest now." She smiled.