So sorry this one took so long guys! I've been super busy. Enjoy!


"Do all angels have different colored wings?" Dean asks softly, absently running his fingers through the feathers of my left wing while we sit on the couch. "I know you said they can change, but do they all start off the same?"

I hesitate. "Not exactly," I explain. "It partly has to do with class. A majority of angels have white wings, the way humans always picture them. Archangels have more gold feathers than white."

He nods thoughtfully. "And what kind of angel has black feathers?"

"Just me," I murmur. "Though they weren't always black. They started out as a dark gray, which was just as unusual. And they were significantly larger than is typical for a normal angel. The other angels were rather alarmed by it. Many of them were frightened, and believed I was somehow broken."

A little flame of anger flares up in him. "They treated you like that because your wings were a different color? I swear if any of those assholes ever comes down here I'm gonna tell them exactly where they can shove their halos."

The protectiveness in the words sends an odd warmth through my chest. "It wasn't their fault, Dean. You know how humans can get when things happen that they don't understand. Angels aren't all that different in that respect. It happened again when they went black, but then I knew better."

"It's my fault, isn't it?" he murmurs softly. "That they went black. They thought all those terrible things about you because of me."

"No," I assure him. "It was because of you, but it wasn't your fault. I take great pride in the color now. Because it means I saved you when no one else could. I don't care so much now if they think I'm different because of the color of the feathers, or because my wings are unusually large. I am different. I'm the only angel who could have made it into Hell and back and saved Dean Winchester. The first angel to truly feel love. And the first to truly fall in it. I was always meant to be different. I'm not ashamed of that."

He smiles, his fingers tracing over the lighter feathers that appeared after Sam put my wings back together. Though they started white, they've settled into a light silvery color that blends well with the black. "They really are beautiful," he says softly. "Don't ever let them tell you they're not."

I chuckle, drawing him closer, the wing wrapping around his shoulders. "Okay, I promise."

"'Unusually large,' huh?" he grins. "I disagree with that. Really though, wasn't it boring all those years, just watching humanity mess everything up?"

I pause for a moment, trying to determine how best to answer him. It wasn't boring at all, but Dean has only ever seen humanity from his perspective. "Come with me," I say finally, taking his hand and pulling him out of the bunker. "I want to show you something."

"Where are we going?" he asks curiously once we've gotten outside.

"Do you trust me?" I ask instead of answering.

He nods. "Of course. But what…"

That's all he gets out before I wrap my arms around him and spread my wings wide, pulling us both into the air. The end of his sentence turns into a yelp as Dean grabs onto me tightly, burying his face against my neck as we shoot upwards into the sky. When we've gotten to the proper height I try to look down at him, but he's refusing to budge. "Dean?" I ask. "What's wrong?"

"I, um…I kind of don't really like flying."

I chuckle, tightening my hold on him. "I'm not going to let you fall. Just look."

Slowly, he peeks out, a strangled little whimper escaping him as he realizes how high we are. But he starts to relax as his eyes scan over the humanity spread before us, the light starting to fade in this part of the world. "Son of a bitch," he whispers. He shifts around carefully to get a better look, his back pressed tightly to my chest. "That's incredible. That's what you saw when you looked down at us?"

"Something like that," I answer softly. "A lot of angels don't look hard enough to see it. They only see the war and evil that is present in your world. But you also have love, and affection, and beauty. So, no. I didn't find it boring."

He smiles, leaning up to kiss me softly. "Can we see other stuff?" he asks excitedly.

I chuckle. "Sure. What would you like to see?"

"Everything," he murmurs. "It's just so different up here."

I smile. "Alright. Let's take a tour then." And so we chase the sunset until we overtake the light, and the darkness once again consumes the earth below. I watch Dean closely as we fly, wanting to commit everything to memory. He looks younger now, the boyish wonder taking over his face, and I can't help but smile when he closes his eyes, spreading his arms out to either side as the wind rushes through his fingers. I press a soft kiss into his hair as I slowly lower us back to the ground in front of the bunker. "Well?"

He grins, hugging me tightly. "That was amazing. Thank you!"

"Of course," I murmur back. "Are you still afraid of flying?"

He chuckles. "With you? Nah. But now I think it's my turn to show you something." His grin hides none of his meaning, and the heat that rises to my cheeks seems to please him. His fingers thread through mine and he leads me back towards the bunker, tugging my coat and tie off along the way.

"Dean, what about Sam?" I murmur as he closes his bedroom door behind us. "I don't think he'd appreciate hearing our…activities."

He grins again, winking. "I guess you'll just have to be quiet then, won't you?"

A soft whine escapes me as he begins to plant heated kisses under my jaw, undoing the top two buttons of my shirt. "Dean…you know I'm bad at being quiet…"

"I know." He chuckles again. "You'll just have to try really hard, or things around here are going to get a little awkward."

"Or we could wait until he goes running tomorrow," I suggest.

He pulls back just slightly, resting his forehead against mine. "Do you want to wait?" he asks softly. His voice has a teasing tone to it, but his eyes betray the fact that he's completely serious. I know he'd stop if I wanted him to. I also know that I don't want to stop. Instead of answering his question, I tilt my chin up, catching his lips again, and I can feel him smile as we tumble back onto the bed. My fingers slip under his shirt, attempting to pull it off, but his hand wraps around my wrist before I can. "Now Castiel," he teases, "how are you going to focus on being quiet if you're doing that? Am I going to have to tie you to the bed?" An odd little whimper escapes me at the thought, and Dean raises one eyebrow, then laughs loudly. "Castiel: the kinkiest angel in the garrison," he chuckles. I blush a little, but he kisses it away. "Don't worry. I like it." he searches around for a moment, picking up the discarded tie and wrapping it around each of my wrists before securing them to the bars of the headboard. He sits back for a moment to admire his work, then grins. I'm sure he can hear my heartbeat just as loudly as I can. In any other situation, this would be bad. But with Dean, it's oddly exciting. He goes back to his task, and my fingers clench around the metal bar as I struggle to stay quiet. I'm still taken aback by it every time; how easy it is for him to break my control. I'd assumed that, once I'd gotten used to my new feelings, it would be easier, but instead the opposite seems to have happened. The more familiar this becomes, the easier it seems to be for him to make me lose control, and I couldn't be happier about that. As much as I know that the thin strip of fabric around my wrists could never truly hold me, I find myself unwilling to break the illusion. So instead I grip the metal tightly while I stifle my moans, shuddering constantly with the added effort combined with Dean's touch. When I touch him, it's like exploring a new territory. But when it's his turn, it's more like he's had a map that he's been studying for years.

Despite the wild spark in his gaze, Dean keeps his pace deliberately slow, watching me carefully. It would be endearing if his touch didn't drive me so crazy. "Dean…" I whine softly. "Please!"

He chuckles softly. "Alright, if you're sure. Mind taking care of the clothes for me?"

I nod, making both of our clothes disappear, and he grins. "Don't forget you have to-" I start. He cuts me off with a rough kiss, then holds up the bottle of lube I purchased. "I know, Cas. You're not the only one who can do research." I smile at the idea of Dean researching this, but none of my research could prepare me for the feeling of being filled by him, at which point the attempt at being quiet is completely forgotten and a long stream of Enochian escapes me. Dean looks down at me, partly elated and partly worried. "Cas? Are you alright?" he asks softly.

I grin up at him. "I'm incredible," I pant. "Please, Dean…more!" He laughs, setting a steady, smooth pace that completely breaks any semblance of control I had left.

When we're both spent, he collapses against my chest, breaths ragged as I tremble beneath him. He reaches up, carefully undoing the knot holding my wrists in place and kissing each one gently. When I open my eyes to look at him, he chuckles, grinning. "Fuck Cas, you look downright… debauched. It's sexy as hell." He kisses me again, softer this time.

"I think I am debauched," I murmur teasingly. "Is this what you mean when you use the expression 'well and truly fucked'?"

He laughs loudly, his fingers running lightly through my hair. "I think that's a little bit different, but you certainly look like you've been well and truly fucked."

"I feel like it too," I grin. "I think I quite like being well and truly fucked."

Dean shivers a little, the spark returning to his eyes. "Do you have any idea what it does to me when you use that kind of language?" I chuckle, kissing the soft spot behind his ear and murmuring a breathy fuck into it, feeling him shudder. "Dammit Cas," he mutters, breathless, "You are so incredibly sexy, you know that?"

I smile, smoothing out his messy hair. "Ol aziazor elasa," I murmur, too spent for English.

"Was that Enochian?" he asks. I nod. "What does it mean?"

I lean in, planting a soft kiss on his lips. "It means I love you."

He smiles, ducking his head to hide his blush. He rests quietly for a moment, his cheek pressed over my heart, then grins. "Too bad they don't have a word for 'sexy motherfucker'…"


Woohoo! So as I mentioned, life has been kicking my ass lately. I'll try to update asap though! And if you would be so kind as to drop me a little message if you liked it, I would be ever so appreciative.

Love,

TheSongSmith