Chapter three:

The New Addition to the Family (Business)

The odd bickering fights aside, now that they were married, it was pretty much the same. Business as usual. To both husband's reliefs. Balthazar spent more time at his fellow conspiracy theorists' base, to give them some space, so the newly-weds had the house to themselves, even if they were rarely in it. Dean loved going out shopping, something that would have needed a twisted arm before, now, he just enjoyed being able to be in public again. He and Cas bickered over the mismatched furniture and things in Balthazar's house and if they should buy new matching replacements. Or, get their own house. It would be another huge step for them and Dean wasn't exactly knowledgeable about the in's and out' of home ownership, or even renting a place.

He grew up in motels and the backseat of the Impala. Out of duffle bags, with no base of operations. He couldn't help but think in terms of Hunting. A house was a base, same as some of the motels, not really a home home. For the longest time, Dean put that word in the category of Hunting as well, as in, 'the monster broke into the victim's home'. Every one of the regular citizens were all living an apple pie life whether they knew it or not, so long as they simply had a 'home'. Something so precious, hard earned, and vulnerable at the same time. People tended to think that if they were at home, they were safe. Since the boys knew better, they learned to stay away from the idea of having a home that wasn't their Impala. The Impala could simply be relocated if things got too hot where they were, however, that isn't the case when peoples homes were at risk of attack.

Bottom line was that homes were a luxury they simply couldn't have.

Castiel was determined to change that sad rule.

Cas offered to ease Dean into the idea of having their own place. Something that would mix the transient lifestyle with traditional houses. A motor home. Dean sneered at the thought but relented at his husband's pleading look. If they had a motor home, someone would have to drive it while someone else had to drive the Impala. There were motor homes out there big enough to haul a car behind them, but that idea was nixed when they saw the monstrously huge RV's that were strong enough to do the job, and then the obscene price tag. Dean was already against 'glampers' on principal, and refused to get a camper that costs more then some houses. And, there was no way was he leaving Baby behind. Sam already found his own car, a newer model of Impala that looked nothing like Baby. The only thing it had in common was the name and the fact that it was black.

Sam stayed with Bobby for a short bit until it was looking like the old man and Ellen were considering furthering their own relationship, so he packed up and went back to the Hunting life, searching for a case. Whenever he'd visit, he noticed that Dean seemed to be getting more and more uncomfortable, but it had nothing to do with Cas. In fact, Dean's hubby was the only thing that calmed him down sometimes just by leaning on him when they sat together. He fidgeted a lot more, seemed a bit more irritable. Complaining sometimes that his back ached or itched, but when he's scratch it, he'd soon stop and rub at his fingertips like they hurt as well. Cas knew it was probably due to the change of scenery. The huge life altering events that had taken place and the idea of this being his life now might be tough to come to terms with. He doesn't have to worry about being hunted or hurt. His family was all safe and alive. But, Castiel knew that Dean didn't feel whole yet. Hunting was such a huge part of his life, saving people from evil beasts was his very noble and thankless crusade. He could settle for a normal lifestyle, if forced to, but, Castiel didn't want to force him into doing anything. Discussing every issue together so neither would end up as the 'bad guy'. If they truly couldn't make a decision, they'd call up Bobby and ask him, but if he gave no clear answer, and they were dismissed with one insult over another, that curse word would determined it. 'Heads' if it was one of Bobby's go-to cusses, and 'Tails' would be if the curse was of the 4 letter variety. That method was about the same and more reliable then a coin toss, since Bobby had grown up in a more normal life before going into Hunting. Neither husband had that, so they deferred to the expert.

In the end, Cas made a choice in this matter since he knew Dean wouldn't bring it up on his own. He will encourage Dean to go back into Hunting with his brother. He knew it was eating at Dean, letting Sam hunt on his own without backup, and that Sam didn't like working with other Hunters besides his brother or Bobby. Bobby's back wouldn't let him into the field too often. More of a liability now if he can't even run from a c-list monster, never mind asking him to fight hand to hand.

It had been three weeks since Dean put on the amulet, two since their wedding, and two days since they heard from Sam. Dean knew he was still alive, but worrying about him was clearly making him even more anxious and unable to focus on finding a small motor home with Cas. Not to mention the freaking pains he had all over.

The newspaper ads laid out on the breakfast table might as well be the tablecloth for as much attention as they were garnering. The sun barely peeked over the horizon when Cas shuffled into the kitchen and frowned at Dean's vacant stare downwards, he grazed his fingers along Dean's shoulders and felt the tension hitch and then let loose as he seemed to come back to awareness of the things around him.

"Hey, Babe." Dean rasped, clearing his throat and offering a tired grin. "Man I could use some brain food for this. Like sausage and eggs, maybe." he murmured, checking his empty coffee cup to see if it had refilled itself since the last time he looked. He waved his hand at the newspaper ads, "Nothing yet. They're all way too big and expensive. This one looks promising, it was painted to look like a cabin. Medium sized, but we'd need a truck to tow it. I was thinking it would be better then an RV since we could use the truck for other stuff once we park the camper somewhere. And, if the motor goes out in a RV and I can't fix it on the road, we're stuck."

Cas looked over the photo, the camper looked cute but he could tell Dean wasn't really into the idea of it. Maybe one day. "It is cute, but, I was thinking." He waited until he had Dean's attention and sat beside him. "I was thinking that it's time you should go." Dean had a look of confusion for a moment, then hurt. "No! I don't mean it like that. I mean you should go with Sam, Hunting. He might need assistance. And I was also thinking... maybe, uh, you can teach me how to do it too."

Fear turned back to confusion in Dean's eyes as he squinted at Cas. "What's this about?"

Cas shrugged, wrapping an arm around Dean's shoulders and noticing the way he shifted so the arm was more on top then resting behind the shoulder blades. He didn't think much of it. "You told me you used to save people, and I want to know what that feels like. I want to help."

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"I don't mean going after the ones with sharp teeth straight away!" Castiel said hastily, other hand splayed out. It reached forward and snagged a firm hold of Dean's and squeezed. "I mean. Sam's last message was that he was doing a salt and burn? That's with ghosts?"

"Usually, sometimes poltergeists, vengeful spirits, souls who can't rest or move on." Dean confirmed.

"And that they are almost always uneventful. You figure out the one responsible, find and dig up their remains or bones, and then salt them, and set them on fire, correct?"

"Yeah, and sometimes we get our asses handed to us by something we can't even see." Dean nearly ground out.

"But that's actually rare." Cas pointed out and counted it a win when he saw Dean shrug one shoulder and look away. He wouldn't be easily scared off by the possibility of getting hurt. "I think we should go do this. Help Sam save some people." and gave Dean a confident grin. "I heard your reputation. You were one of the best Hunters in the country. I'm sure you can do your job with me tagging along. Skill enough for both of us. I promise I'll hang back and learn. I wont get in your way. And wouldn't it be easier to dig up a grave for you two if you had someone as a lookout? Someone to throw salt or iron at the ghost if it tries to stop you?"

It did sound better the more he talked. Dean missed his old life but was a little upset that Cas picked up on it so clearly. Of course, everybody knew how well the brother's worked together but that didn't mean that Dean wanted Cas to risk his life on a daily basis as well. But, he did have a point, with both brothers there, on simple salt and burns, it would be great training wheels for Cas and they would still be saving people's lives. Having a lookout was also pretty alluring of an idea.

"One." Dean stated firmly, holding up a finger for emphasis. "One S&B and we see how it goes."

Castiel's grin doubled and he hugged Dean fully, kissing him everywhere. "I wont let you down!" Cas practically crowed and got up abruptly from the table.

"Not now!" Dean huffed a laugh, "Gotta get some breakfast first, pack up, find Sam, and figure out if it's worth the drive to wherever he ended up. If he's already done then we can catch the next one with him. Start to finish. There's a method to it."

"Yes, I understand." Castiel sighed, holding up his fingers to list, "Find suspicious deaths or events, then we research who the likely culprit is, then we find where their remains are, then we do the actual salt and burn."

"And try not to get arrested or die, yes." Dean sighed, looking Cas up and down. "Gonna need to get you a Fed suit as well, we have to play the part. But first? Breakfast." he mentioned for the third time.

"What are you looking at me for? It's your turn today. Remember?" Cas leaned back and folded his arms.

Dean shut his mouth and went back to his newspaper, flipping it over to the obituaries instead. Changing topics easily he made a point to circle all of the obit's that might remotely be interesting. "Might even find one in our backyard." he mumbled.

"Nice try. Breakfast." Cas stated and kicked Dean's chair. "I'm thinking pancakes."

"Special pancakes?" Dean chuckled, pointed towards the tin Balthazar keeps his pancake enhancements in. Dean groaned when he stood, the pan and ingredients gathered together and made with little audible fuss, and the rest of the day was spent packing up.

Dean couldn't help the shiver of excitement he felt. It had been nearly a year since he last had a proper hunt. Even if it was just a simple one, it felt nice to get back into it again. And the best part is that he didn't have to even ask Cas if it was alright. He'd marry him all over again if he could. The hardest part about it was getting used to the new last name. Changing the fairly legal documents that still pertain to him. The Impala for one, the title changed over so he wouldn't loose it over some flimsy paperwork.

Sam called them before Dean had a chance to inform them he's just finishing up his hunt and headed back to his hotel, his cell's battery went dead and he had to find a replacement charger. That was the reason for his sudden silence for those days. The older brother couldn't help thinking about when their father disappeared years ago that changed their lives. Itching for those days for news of Sam's well being or whereabouts. Relieved to hear from him again and suppressing his joy at being able to hunt with his favorite partner again. Knowing that with Sam there as well, that Cas would be ready for real hunts in a matter of weeks with both brother's as teachers. Dean informs Sam of the idea Castiel has and it only took a few minutes to convince Sam that it could work.

Sam had already had his next hunt lined up but it was a little more tricky then a ghost. All it took was some driving and a bit more research to make sure he had the right suspect.

"What kind of hunt are we talking about?" Dean asked, putting Sam on speaker phone. Castiel was called in to hear as well. Getting his opinion on it.

"It looks like it's a single werewolf. The full fur one, most likely. A bunch of hikers are getting picked off in the woods, the ones that survive say it's big and walks on two legs some of the time but mostly on all four's. They usually describe something else if they are only looking at the evidence which would point to animal attacks. They just don't want to admit what they're actually seeing."

"I think I ate one or two of those before." Dean chuckled like it was no big deal.

Cas's hand went to his stomach. Face blanching. "You're joking."

"Nope. Back when the hybrid was in charge and we were at Azazel's, the bastard had him eat all kinds of monsters to keep the rest of them in line. Pretty sick stuff that I'd rather not repeat out loud." Dean squirmed in his seat. Regretting bringing it up now that the bit of information is out there. He started feeling cagey when he remembered the other aspects of being an attack dog for a maniac. The abuse in nearly every conceivable form. 'Don't think about it. Get back to the topic.' He thought to himself, fixed his posture which made his shoulder blades hurt a bit more. Ignoring that as well he asked, "So, what do you think, Cas? Should we go for it?"

Cas now squirmed, he knew that it would be asking too much to force Sam to take on this hunt alone, and the fact that a new ghost one wouldn't just coincidentally pop up out of nowhere to replace it. These people needed help now, not later when it's more convenient for him. He sighed and shrugged, then put on a brave face, "Yes. I think you and Sam should take this thing out, there's no telling how many more people it would harm if it's allowed to remain on the loose."

"Are you coming too? Or..." Dean hesitated, not wanting to push Cas whatsoever.

"Yes? I mean, I don't want to cramp your style, as Balth would say, but I do want to support you in any way I can."

Dean's face split into a smile. "Great! And don't worry, Sam and I will take care of the heavy lifting and dangerous bits, there's plenty PG 13 stuff that needs doing that you can help us out with. Namely research and manning the getaway car if you're up for it." Dean kept a factoid out of the pitch that the reason a getaway driver would be awesome is that usually werewolf hunts kicked their asses and driving after a beating always sucks. He kept on his happy face, the brothers could recuperate after the hunt with someone else driving.

Cas sighed with obvious relief. He could do that. Training didn't always mean fighting. Half or even two thirds of the work was preparation as well as disposal of evidence, and planning escapes. They would always have to make sure that it was the right monster or human that they were after. They can not make a mistake and accidentally injure or even kill an innocent just because they got the name or address wrong. Something simple that was overlooked. They would be no better then the monster then. So, Cas sat up a little straighter and nodded at Dean to get the details about the locations and meet up while he got up and went to their room to finish packing.

Ten hours of driving and several pit stops later, they finally meet up with Sam at the hotel he had just gotten. Sam got one with two queens as usual and only afterwards realized that Dean and Cas would be sharing one. So used to getting the beds for just him and his brother, he would sometimes forget he had hunted solo and would get the doubles while running on autopilot. In a way, it made him feel less lonely if he piled up his stuff on the other bed and subconsciously pretended it was Dean sleeping there or that his brother was just out for a bit. A memory of a time before he'd found Dean's dragon ass again, seeing a fake version of his brother walking around and talking about his disdain for witches with him as if the older brother was really there. Sam never mentioned the instances to anyone, but would randomly see his brother more recently on his solo hunts. He told himself it was nothing supernatural, more like the equivalent of a night spent drinking and chatting up a coat rack. Most likely brought on by lack of sleep and being dead tired from Hunting solo. So what if he imagined his brother laying down in the other bed or walking around some random times? He knew what was real and what wasn't and it was really a non-issue. He's just thankful now that he doesn't have to imagine Dean being there. It's a reality again.

Sam had his own reservations at involving Castiel in the hunting life though, but trusted his brother's instincts on what Cas is capable of. The scientist did show an accelerated learning ability when he was sparring with him in the cabin, and at various times when they were on the run. His training can continue and he might prove to be invaluable to the Hunt. If nothing else, an extra set of eyes and opinion on the research and plans would come in handy. Getting a more civilian-ish view on the things they dealt with. Cas had one foot in and out of the Hunting world. Living it for just a few months in a way when he was dealing with dragons. Granted, dragons weren't their usual forte – it was still more then the average person would come across. He took all of their lessons to heart and the only questioning he did was for clarification's sake. The questions never meant to suggest that the brother's didn't know what they were doing, but, now that he thinks about it, maybe they do need someone to double check their work, see if they're acting too rashly or carelessly. When the adrenalin's pumping, it's easy to over look some things. Be a little harsh to people that are too ignorant of the situation to save their own skins.

For example, when they get to the woods, they'll need a kinder gentler way of telling hikers to take a hike. That the woods are off limits for a reason, and that the screams and shotgun blasts echoing in the woods are actually a good thing. Yeah, maybe Cas would be best for crowd control. Sam got to wondering what it would be like to actually have some backup like that on a normal hunt. He was getting a bit more excited the more he thinks about it. Keep Cas from the violent bloody parts, but still have him playing a vital role. Maybe this will become a thing? A new kind of Hunter? A kind of Hunter PR spokesperson.

Dean looked over from unloading his weapons bag to check on his things at his brother who was staring off into nowhere, trying not to laugh out loud. "Care to share with the class?" He raised an eyebrow. Castiel was just coming out of the bathroom, drying his hands.

"Nothing, nothing." Sam waved a hand in the air and said, "Here, this is what I could get so far." Sam tried to compose himself and not look at Cas, the guy deserved better then being dismissed as just a speaker and not a do-er. He laid out the few maps of the area, some more focused on the cabins and campgrounds then actual terrain they'll be going down. He pulled out his laptop and booted up the most recent (3 year old) images of the woods from the satellite view from Google Earth. Things shouldn't have changed too much so they split the woods up into sections for the brothers to search one grid at a time. Starting with the areas around where the victims remains were found or reported missing.

Cas started to wring his hands and could see the tension start to build between Dean's shoulders. They both knew that this was similar to Dean's last hunt that ended badly. Sam noticed his brother worry at his shoulders and back rubbing them as if they hurt or itched. Sometimes scratching at the back of his head or adjusting his sitting position several times. His face screwing up into one of discomfort. He took on a soft tone of voice, low and unassuming, "You don't have to do this. I can call up another hunter."

Dean's gaze shot up and was a mix of betrayal and relief, before settling on determination. "No, we're here, might as well get this shit done." He said firmly, refusing to look Sam's way. He knew Sam was only looking out for him and he must be sending off waves of discomfort but he couldn't help it. His back was getting more sore by the minute. Probably from the long drive here, but the strange thing was he could feel his temperature and temperament get warmer, like he was growing both sick and pissed all the time and trying to hide it. Probably the hunt too. A combination of crap. But, soon as they gank this fugly, the sooner they can move on to the next. Find that ghost hunt for Cas to practice with and get his hands a little dirty. He still didn't like the idea of this being Cas's first hunt. Monsters that hung out in the woods were always gonna be freaky. Thinking to himself, 'I mean, who does that? The woods are cold and eerie and there's nothing to do but run around and trip on roots. No wonder they started chasing people, nothing else was entertaining.'

The further in they went, the more it was obvious that something was bothering Dean so much that he could barely see straight. Dean's cautious quiet steps turned into petulant stomps. Sam shot him a few glares inbetween scanning the woods and the ground where they walked. Dean seemed to be less interested in watching where he stepped then jerking his gun bag around, adjusting it for the hundredth time by the shoulder strap. Growling in frustration and practically seething with growing rage.

"It's nighttime! Why the fuck is it so hot?" He practically shouted accusations at the very trees surrounding them.

"Shh! Dean? It's not hot..." Sam said quietly, hoping Dean would remember himself and get back to stalking. Sam didn't know why his brother thought it was anything but cold out, he was actually shivering slightly.

"Yes it is! Swear if it was any hotter I'm gonna have to strip down and hunt in my birthday suit!"

All he got was a worried look from Sam who stopped in his tracks to study Dean. "Dean. It's not hot. If anything it's like 40 degrees out now. Are you feeling ok?" He asked, already knowing there's something wrong. Before letting Dean lie some more, he continued, "You're coming down with something aren't you. You should let me take point, take the six." he said and strode past Dean, lifting his rifle and aiming it ahead. Dean shoved at him. "What's that for?"

"Quit bossing me around! I'm the oldest! I should lead!"

Sam hissed, "Wanna tell the whole wild kingdom?!" And darted his eyes around. "Fine fine, take the lead. Just be quiet! We're here to hunt remember?" Sam huffed out some irritation, getting rid of it to ask, "What's gotten into you?" the last part was said with no small amount of concern. A hand landed on Dean's shoulder and gave a tentative squeeze before it could be brushed off.

Dean paused in his next tirade. Voice catching in his throat. He didn't realize how loud he was getting until there was no other sound to contend with. Even the cautious voice of Sam wasn't louder then someone whisper-talking in a movie theater. His skin warmed up even more. It couldn't be from embarrassment alone. He scratched at his sides, fingers feeling weird. He took stock of his own body in the silent moment. He felt hot, itchy, pissed off even now, and like he wanted to fight anything that moved or breathed. Sam was just the unlucky one to be readily available for his barely concealed rage. He took a breath, then another heavier one, forcing himself to calm and collect his thoughts. He looked up again at his brother, fingers going to his coat to unzip it and even going further and unbuttoning his shirt, pulling the t shirt's neck collar in and out to let in the cool night air against his chest. "It's hot man. It's too hot. I'm pissed and I don't know why..." he looked off into nowhere. "Something's wrong with me." He admitted silently. Hating the fact that he needed to let Sam know now before something -

A crash sounded out not far away, both of them spun in place towards it. Rifles raised. They were silent for a few seconds, hearing and judging what it could be before it became visible. If it was just an animal, a jogger, a lost dog, a branch falling, or something that needed a silver bullet to the heart to take out. The rustling continued, a low inhuman moan turned growl. That ruled out a few options.

Sam fired off a warning shot above where they thought it could be. If it were a normal animal, it should have run from the unfamiliar sound of the gunshot. The growl stopped suddenly, startled, then became louder and wetter. "Shit."

Dean's skin felt like it was on fire, prickling heat everywhere. He trembled, giving off a keening whine as he tried hard to keep his rifle up. Every muscle jumping and twitching. He fired off a few shots, missing the target completely, before howling in pain and falling to his side as if he were being attacked.

Sam stumbled away a few steps, immediately thinking that the monster might be invisible but Dean was stripping clothes off and wailing about being burned alive. His skin was red, Sam could tell even in the dim light. The idea of the fugly being invisible had vanished when the monster paced quickly to the side, branches cracking and thrashing from its body shoving past them without care. It was obviously hoping to take the weaker opponent out first. Dean. "No!" Sam fired off a few rounds at the shape.

It was inhumanly fast, claws shot out of nowhere and tore at his coat, he cried out in pain, ducking out of the way of another slash just before his head was hit. He dropped to the ground as he felt claws gouge deep into his leg. Figuring out the monster was actually going after him instead of Dean. It was a surprise to say the least. His rifle was knocked from his hands and landed a good dozen feet away, eyes shot to the ground to find Dean's discarded weapon. Dean was writhing on the ground, tearing at his skin, screaming. The pain in it was nearly deafening. Sam could barely track the monsters sounds over it.

Dean's fingers grabbed the only thing left on his torso and ripped it away from himself. Sam had only a second to see what it was. The amulet. Horror at watching his brother remove the one thing that can't be replaced. Then shock as wings practically exploded from Dean's back in a burst of white blinding light, the same instant that he felt claws on his own. He fell to the ground face forward next to Dean. Both panting hard, listening to the scurry of leaves and sticks, marking out where the monster dashed to next. The shuffling sound stopped. All sounds stopped.

Dean's form slumped a little. Heaving great breaths into the dirt, his huge light brown camouflage colored wings drooped low, twitching a little like being electrocuted with just a few volts. His whip like tail was moving in all random directions. As if he was trying to figure out what that feeling was that was so different, and scarily familiar at the same time.

Sam has to push Dean from his mind as the monster shifts its attention straight towards the venerable Dean who is whimpering on the ground, still stunned by the new appendages. Dean's wings had come out with a vengeance. It wasn't the act of leaving his body, it was the fact that they scraped against rocks and low tree branches on their way out. The monster was focused on the other fresh scent of blood. Different from a human's, the monster was curious how it tasted.

Sam launches himself forward from the ground like a professional runner, and body checks it before he even thinks about what he's doing. The two crash away from Dean. Grappling and wrestling for control over the other one.

Sam felt another blow, knocking him forward again to his knees then chest. Leg giving out at last from another kick behind his already hurting knee. His back becomes warm, wet, and slightly sticky. It had torn through his layers of clothes and broke the skin. Sam had a flash of memory to Bobby, a spinal injury. Bobby not being able to hunt ever again because of his back injury. His was a bullet, Sam's is now by claws. He feared what he'd find if he tried to move from his crumpled position on the ground.

"Oh no..." Dean rasped. The pain and despair clear in his voice. "No... please... God, no... I..." noticing the movement beside him, seeing Sam crumpled on the ground and bleeding. Eyes squinted in pain and fear. The scent of it. A new silent plea choked out for his little brother's sake. "No..."

Sam tried to pay attention to the monster, what it's doing, where it is, what it's planning on doing now, but all he could see and think was, his brother's no longer human. Will never be human again. And he'll probably die here with his little brother because the monster has the upper hand.

Sam felt his eyes prick with tears. Trying to muster up the strength and bullheaded willpower to get up and kill the monster when he felt a massive weight hit him from behind before he even shifted his body. Pain shot up his spine and made black spots appear in his vision. His folded arms the only thing keeping his chest from collapsing from the monster perching on his back and legs. Drops of foul smelling saliva dripped from somewhere above him. Hot breath on his neck and head. A low rumble from above. The predator's victory growl.

His older brother turned to look at them. Eyes going wide once he saw what was on Sam's back going in for the kill. The look of confusion and then understanding flashing, the part of Sam's mind that felt detached from the feelings noted that, it's apparently not a werewolf. That look Dean's giving it, if only he could turn his head and see for himself -

Dean's wings folded up abruptly, tail taut and claws pushed into the ground. His body was ramrod straight, aiming at the thing. Dean's whole face lit up slightly with a kind of manic glee. So out of place. Sam's brow furrowed. What the f - ?

Dean's voice came out almost like an audible smirk. "Don't need silver bullets to take you out, right here. Right now."

He opened up his mouth and Sam could see a spark at the back of Dean's throat. oh. OH SHIT.

Fire erupted from Dean's mouth towards the creature that was hunched over Sam. The flames engulfing it instantly and it shrieked as it thrashed off of him and away. Crashing into the trees behind him. Sam remembered the fact that Dean had gotten pretty adept at shooting his flames, but never so grateful for the practice hours as now when not a single drop of it landed on his limp form.

Dean wiped off his mouth and smothering the lingering flames licking at his lips. His tired weary gaze lands on Sam and his wings slump to his sides. Sam gives him one distressed look before turning his attention back to the monster that's inadvertently setting the rest of the nearby woods on fire as it flails about.

Dean was up like an animal himself, bounding over Sam's still prone form to spit more fire onto the writhing, shrieking body. Its form was obscured by its flailing arms and legs but Sam was just able to make out it was mostly human shaped, but longer limbed and skinny, the hands clawing at its face were also like a humans but stretched out to grotesque proportions.

Dean kicked it down, standing over it, wings flared out and proud. Finding his gun again, Dean shoots the silver into the heart and the burning lump slumps to the floor. Sam could only see the back-lit silhouette but he could tell that Dean was either really enjoying this, or pretending to. A front or bluff, he hoped. If not, if Dean was loosing himself to this raw violence, this feral behavior... Sam's heart broke a little, his head throbbed, keeping time with it. He could feel more blood being pumped right out of his body from his back and leg wounds. Vision blurring. Not good.

Dean starts to stomp out all of the fires before the whole forest goes up in flames. He follows the path the monster had taken and grabs a hold of the things legs to drag it over to some dirt. Dean stomps out more fires. Avoiding Sam's weary gaze. He feels better now that the ache in his back and other parts is gone. Hurting just as much as a sparring match, nothing more. Well, his wings are bleeding a little bit, but they're already healing over. 'Good ol' Drauglin biology.' He thought bitterly to himself. He could practically feel Sam's eyes on him.

"It'll be alright, Sam."

"W - what?" Sam wheezed into the ground. Spots forming in his vision again. Trying to blink them away. His breathing is getting labored. Dean seems to not notice as his wings sagged a little before he brought them up again like a cape. Obviously trying to remember how he worked them, and relying on muscle memory.

"Just... not now. Let's get this done here and you can bitch me out when we leave this town in the rear view mirror." Dean mumbled tiredly and meant to leave before Sam's retort, but hearing nothing.

"De -" Sam choked out. Spitting a little blood, "Dean..."

The wings twitched, coming closed a little and a horned head turned to look back and down at him. "Sammy?"

Sam blacked out.