AN- Part Two of my prior story LAPD Case 1653-B. This story is slowly falling into cannon territory so any details or suggestions of future events are welcome and supported fully. Only warnings so far are Wingkink (accidental wingkink if you ask Dean) and oilkink. Thought I'd start off with a little something different.


Castiel shuffled down the concrete hallway of the bunker, wings dragging limply behind himself as he made his way into the makeshift kitchen for some well needed coffee. It had been only a few days since he had disappeared with Gabriel and Jack into this new world. He was always on edge that some swat team would bust down the door and point guns at them. Most of the past few days had been driving in a cramp car from California to Lebanon Kansas and the Angel felt the tiredness right down into his bones. The only reason he knew where of the coffee pot was located was because of Sam needing something caffeinated before he'd surf the web for details of their case on the news websites and then crashing for some well deserved sleep.

Cas was tired as fuck himself, but couldn't force himself to sleep in the military grade bedroom for more than a few hours before his nerves refused to let him sleep. He was bone tired. Quickly filling up an empty mug from the kitchen cabinet, Castiel made his way to the large room where he saw a television that Sam had quietly explained was Dean's 'Dean Cave.' The Angel hoped there was cable so he could find a news channel. He wanted to know so badly what was said, it made his skin itch. Would this just be a snippet on local news or something worthy of CNN?

He watched for some time, ignoring the local weather or stories of small robberies in the surrounding cities until a Barbie doll eyed reporter sitting at her news desk tilted her hair spray murdered waves at the camera and gave a falsely grim smile.

"In other news, a mass disappearance has taken a well known Ivy College town by storm. Reports by Police report that several dozen women and even a few unnamed officers have been taken in account for this event. We go live now to a report issued by Los Angeles Police Department regarding this active incident."

Castiel nearly dropped his coffee watching the scene of his superior Michael standing at a podium in full uniform, surrounded by flashing cameras and microphones pressed into the air to catch anything he might say.

"This crime comes as to a shock to all of our community," the asshole began over professionally. "Many mothers, sisters, daughters, and even our boys in blue are affected by this. We are currently investigating ties between these women and if it could be the result of sex-trafficking or something more sinister. Names will be withheld of the victims until more evidence can be acquired and we urge the citizens to stay indoors after hours and please come forward if they have any information regarding this case. Information will be released as it becomes available."

Pens immediately flew into the air and a burst of voices screamed to be heard over one another while cameras flashed brightly and violently. The scene pulled back into the local news room where the doll eyed woman nodded her stiff hair at the news camera and steadied her fake voice.

"Reports have come in of the officers affected by the suspected sex-traffic ring as Los Angele's natives Castiel Novak and Gabriel Speight Jr. Any information on these individuals is to be called in immediately. Families will be notified by local police during the investigation."

Cas set down his mug on the small side table of the recliner he was sitting in. Pictures of himself and Gabe flashed across the screen. This was terrible. No one had a clue about the truth and his face was plastered all over the news. He couldn't go outside, not with or without these wings and he couldn't explain himself without either Dean going to jail or himself. Too many people were affected and they'd sooner pat themselves on the back with a false charge than do any real detective work.


"That stuff will rot your brain, Cas." A deep voice grumbled out of the silence, startling the dark haired man.

Dark wings jerked up high and protectively as Dean stumbled back, bathrobe fluttering in the wind.

"Jesus, Cas. Quit trying to kill me in my own house!" Dean yelled out in surprise, trying to get his own bearings back. "I just heard the tv on and you looked like you were about to have a panic attack."

Cas' wings slowly drooped back into their submissive state, curling slightly around the man like a blanket.

"I had to know. I needed to. I'm scared, Dean."

The hunters green eyes softened and he edged himself onto the arm of his favorite recliner. He stroked the messy, dark hair gently as well as the shuddering wings moving about like they had a mind of their own.

"I get it, Cas. The life isn't for everyone and it takes time to adjust. We can at least get it to being semi-normal not counting monster killing if you give it some time. Jack said there's a way to hide the wings so people can't see them. You can go outside without looking like you belong on ceiling church painting."

The officer turned Angel shook his head and looked back at the cycling news feed and commercials.

"I'm a wanted man. "He replied coolly. "I can't show my face."

Dean hummed. He was wanted on a FBI list with Sammy several years ago. If they could get away with it, he could.

"Nah." The hunter replied calm as ever. "We got this. You and the giant six winged canary just need to lie low for a few weeks until the hype dies down. We'll work on the wing thing, get some pie, and be fine. If people ask, just say your name is Jimmy and that way your cousin. Sammy can whip up a pretty convincing fake drivers license to prove it to nosey cops or locals."

Cas stared at the taller man with wide eyes. He'd never expected him to be so calm. The Angel breathed deeply, not realizing the anxiety attack mounting and focused on the brunette's gentle and comforting smile. Castiel forced his wings to droop, brushing the floor and expanding to their full size.

"Damn, those things are huge." Dean commented now the air was more relaxed. "The entire time you had them, you've been hunching them up like a winter jacket. Hell, Gabriel has been screwing with Sam all morning with his by knocking stuff off shelves like a giant baby."

Dean smiled warmly when he got a positive reaction out of his lover. Now that they were home, in his home, he didn't know how to handle this. Surely, Cas would still want to be with him, right? Their relationship has been all over the map. That was why he didn't invite Cas to sleep in his memory foam bed. Well, that and his penchant to reach for his gun every time someone startled him awake by rolling over in their sleep. Hence, the life of a paranoid hunter.

"Hey-a Cas," He began nervously, "Those wings of yours can feel stuff right?"

A hesitant nod followed.

"It's like a phantom pain, but they don't hurt." The dark haired man explained. "The bigger feathers are more sensitive that the smaller ones."

He emphasized his point by lifting the wings into an arch, showing the smaller set of feathers glistening in the light.

"I've found that brushing them feels nice. I only noticed when I was trying to find out how to lay comfortably in my room, but I haven't really had time to really see how it feels. I feel like a pre-teen boy discovering himself."

Dean chuckled under his breath at that expression. He supposed it was true. He didn't know anyone else with wings other than Gabe or maybe Jack that could compare these results. The hunter reached out to the long arm length feather at the tip of Cas' inky wing and brushed a hand across it, the shudder catching his eye easily. Green eyes darkened slightly. There wasn't a time that he had fully appreciated his robe more than now.

"C'mon Cas," Dean muttered, voice slightly thick. "I have a spare brush in my room. I think those things need straightening out. You're starting to look like a startled pigeon."

Castiel blushed, the pinkness looking good on his cheeks. He nodded gently and followed behind the hunter, down the dark halls, and finally to the dark oak door of their destination. True to his word, the hunter grabbed the soft bristle brush from his dresser and turned toward the Angel.

"Sit down. Those things are huge and I don't want to spend all morning circling you get everything."

The Angel did as directed and sat on the end of the bed, ass sinking slightly in the material. The moment the plastic brush started to work through his feathers, Castiel was in Heaven. The stimulation from his back hit sharp down his spine and into his lower abdomen. He gasped, soon spreading the larger feathers causing Dean to hold them steady. The hunter worked diligently. A few smaller and bent feathers dropped to the floor in small tufts causing the wings to shake and flicker slightly.

"Hold still. I can't brush you if you keep moving." The brunette commented calmly. " Man, this is like getting a comb through Sam's hair."

Castiel opened his mouth a tipped his head back when Dean plucked a particularly stubborn feather from the end joint of his wing. The ragged moan and flicker of overhead lights startled the hunter.

"Don't stop." Cas begged, wings fluttering in his hands a bit violently.

"What was that?" He questioned the Angel. "How did you do that?"

Cas stared at the man with doe eyes, too worked up to care. The only thing he did notice was that his back was wet.

"Dean," Castiel stammered roughly. "Am—am I bleeding? My back…"


A concerned look swept up the man's features. Quickly dropping the brush onto the bed, and lifted the heavy bunch of feathers. Right before his eyes, slowly dribbling down the man's back was a shiny fluid. The cuts or whatever they were, were pink and red irritated patch of skin on both sides of the Angel's wings. The patch of skin was swollen and dribbling fluid. Was this some sort of Angel infection?

"Cas, I think you got a few cuts infected." The hunter said, completely concerned for the smaller man. I'll get some antibiotics and gauze after I get all the fluid out."

Dean never knew how his ignorance would one day make this one of the wildest days of his life.

The hunter reached down to the 'what he later learned from a laughing Sam and Jack was a gland' and squeezed.

Light bulbs erupted in a cascade of glass and filament and a high pitch scream echoed loudly around him. Copious amount of slick fluid drenched down Cas' back, soaking his black service slacks. Darkness engulfed the bunker until the backup generators kicked on. Under the low light, he could see the flagging tent in the Angels jeans followed by large wet spot. Well, fuck.