Chapter Three
Dean came back to awareness very slowly. His head felt like it was splitting apart, and there was an odd ache on his back. It felt like there was an extra weight on both of his shoulder blades. He could tell he was lying on his left side in the bed, but he couldn't remember how he'd gotten back to the room. He moaned, bringing a hand to his face.
"Dean?" Sam asked right in front of him.
"Dude, remind me to never have…" Dean began, thinking. He opened his eyes, squinting at Sam, who sat in a chair next to the bed. "What did I have last night?"
Dean got his first good look at Sam. Something's wrong.
Sam was staring at Dean with a freaked look on his face.
"Three beers," Sam answered.
Dean frowned. "Three beers? I had to have had a buttload more than three beers to have the hangover from hell."
"Trust me, Dean. You had three beers."
"You sure?"
Sam nodded. "What do you remember?"
Dean closed his eyes, trying to shake off that weird feeling on his back. What was strange was he could have sworn he heard something ruffling…like feathers. "Um…we stopped by the bar for a drink…After the first round, I went to get our second…And that guy was at the bar, trying to get close to me…Then I went back for our third round…and started talking with this girl…That's the last thing I remember."
"Well, I found you telling her all about our lives. Hunting and everything."
"Really?"
"You were delirious, Dean."
"Damn, I must have been. I've never been that drunk before. And only after three beers? You think I was drugged?"
"Nothing else explains it. I got you to the parking lot and you passed out…ten hours ago."
"Man…" said Dean. A thought suddenly occurred to him. "You don't think something was trying to get to me? You know, a supernatural drug?"
"I'd say so," Sam muttered.
Dean looked up at his brother. Sam seemed to be staring at the bed behind Dean. "Sam…What's going on?"
Sam looked back at Dean's face. "About five hours after I brought you back here, you started yelling in pain. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't wake you up. You kept reaching for your back and yelling, so I pulled the blankets back, and…" He was staring at the floor, lost in the memories.
"Sam," Dean urged.
Sam looked back up at him. "Look behind you, Dean."
Dean frowned. "What?"
"Just look behind you."
Dean turned his head, trying to look over his shoulder. His field of vision was obscured by white, so he lifted his head a little to look around the pillow…when he realized it wasn't a pillow. His eyes widened as he realized just what he was staring at.
A broad expanse of white feathers took up the space behind him. The feathery appendage curved away from his back, stretching down the bed to his calves.
No, Dean thought. No, no, no.
He had wings.
Dean jumped out of the bed, rushing to the bathroom door, which had a full-length mirror on it. Dean spun away from the mirror and looked over his shoulder at his reflection. The wings connected to his shoulder blades, sprouting out of his skin. The pink flesh melded into white feathers, seeming to have no break between the two. The wing joints curved up to the height of his head before dropping down to his calves. The feathers were pure white.
Dean brought his hand back, reaching up to the point where wings became skin. He could feel a newer, lighter bone sprouting from his shoulder blades, forming the wings. The feathers felt like…nothing. Like air made solid, they were so soft and smooth.
Dean turned his head back to Sam, who now stood in front of him. "What the hell, Sam?"
"I didn't do it!" Sam defended.
Dean turned to face the mirror, looking at his reflection. The wings framed his body, making him look like John Travolta, only less fake-looking. "What happened to me?"
"I don't know, Dean," said Sam. "Like I said, supernatural drug."
Dean frowned. "And giving me wings would do what? I can't see how this is gonna take me out of the fight. And if it was the angels…I mean, I know they want me to say yes to Michael, but isn't this taking things a bit far?"
"How would they have gotten the drug to you?" asked Sam.
"Well, I started feeling funny after the second beer," Dean told him. His eyes widened. "The guy…the guy at the bar! It was him!"
"The guy trying to hit on you?"
"What if he wasn't? What if he was trying to throw me off enough to spike my beer?" His eyes widened again. "He asked about you. He drew my attention towards you so I would look away from the beers. He's the one that did this to me!"
"Why?"
"I don't know, but I'm gonna kill him." Dean began heading for the door.
Sam jumped in front of him, hands on Dean's chest. "Dean, you can't go out like that."
"It's close enough to Halloween," Dean told him, trying to get around Sam.
"No, Dean, you're not gonna kill him."
"Move it, Sam. I've got some holy wrath to dish out."
Dean managed to get past Sam, but Sam thought fast and grasped the wing-joints of both wings. Dean was halted in his tracks.
"Let me go, Sam!" Dean yelled.
"No, Dean, I'm not letting you kill him."
"The guy turned me into a bird-man! That deserves the death penalty!"
"He's human, Dean! He might've been possessed or something! We don't know the whole story here! I am not letting you kill anyone!"
Sam could feel Dean's muscles relax under his hands—and did that feel weird, knowing that it was Dean's muscles in those wings. Sam watched the struggle ease out of Dean's body.
"Fine," said Dean. "We'll figure this out before we kill him."
Happy with that answer, Sam released Dean's wings. Dean pulled away from Sam, turning towards him. Dean's shoulders shuddered, as though he had an itch on his back. His wings spread a little as they shuddered also. The feathers stiffened for a moment before the wings settled against Dean's back.
"Don't you ever do that again," said Dean.
"Do what?" asked Sam.
"Grab the wings," said Dean. "That's cheating."
Sam laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."
Dean looked down at his bare chest, seemingly noticing his lack of shirt for the first time. "Where's my shirt?"
Sam pointed at the floor next to Dean's bed. Dean spotted a tattered cloth and picked it up. His T-shirt was in shreds.
"What'd you do, cut it off?" asked Dean.
"It shredded," said Sam. "I mean, I watched those wings burst right out of your back, ripping through your shirt."
Dean laughed. "Dude, I'm like the Hulk."
"More like Angel."
Dean frowned. "From Buffy?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "The guy with wings from the X-Men."
Dean smiled. "Oh, yeah. Alright, first thing's first. I'm hungry."
"Alright, I'll go get us something."
"No, I'm coming with."
Sam looked at him. "Have you seen yourself?"
"Like I said: it's only a week away from Halloween. We'll pull it off as an elaborate costume."
"Dean—"
"Come on, Sammy. I'm already pissed and starting to get a little stir-crazy here."
Sam rolled his eyes, knowing he wouldn't win. "Fine."
Dean smiled, heading for his duffel and grabbing a shirt. He then looked at the shirt and glanced at his wings. "New problem."
"Could always go without. You've always wanted an excuse to go shirtless."
Dean glared at him. "Ha-ha." He glanced over at the table, where a knife sat. "There we go." He headed to the table, setting the shirt down and picking up the knife. "Time to improvise."
Dean sized up the shirt and then made two long cuts on the back, cutting from the bottom of the shirt to the shoulder blades. The flap of material fell to the table. Dean pulled his arms through the sleeves, sliding his head through the collar. The back of the shirt from the wings down was missing. Dean grabbed the piece of cloth and held it out to Sam.
"Tape me up," said Dean.
Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed the cloth, reaching for a roll of duct tape in one of their bags.
"I'm gonna tape the inside so it's not as noticeable," said Sam.
"Whatever," said Dean, turning his back towards Sam.
Sam pulled a long piece of tape off and positioned the scrap of shirt. He reached the tape up under the shirt, taping it to the rest of the shirt. Five minutes later, he was finished.
"Alright," said Dean, grabbing an old jacket from his duffle. "Now the jacket."
Sam rolled his eyes once again as they went to work.