Dean's chest hurts badly from where the monster's wing stuck him. The attack knocked the breath from his lungs and sent him to the ground. He now sits on his knees, doubled over himself with his hands pressed against the cold concrete floor. He lost his knife as he fell and heard it skid across the floor to his right. His vision is prickling with black splotches that fade in and out of sight, dancing around his surroundings. His ears are ringing from the panic of the unforeseen attack, causing the world around him to be lost in a low muffled buzz.

"Dean I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't- m- mean to."

The words do not fully register as Dean scrambles to his feet, unarmed and in pain. Anticipating another blow, he lunges to his right, reaching out frantically for his hunter's knife. As soon as his fingers brush the hilt of it, the blonde is grabbing onto it and getting up as quickly as he can, wobbling from dizziness. His vision is still somewhat blurred from the lack of oxygen, and the sudden upright position makes his world go dark for just a few seconds before his eyes regain focus.

He looks over at the monster, panicking slightly as he notices that it has now sat up. Dean assumes that the being plans to attack, or attempt to get away, so he hurriedly takes a few steps over to the half-man, raising his knife in preparation to bring it down into the creature's chest.

When he reaches the bedside, he begins to bring the knife down, only to have the winged man reach up and grab his upper arm. Before the knife gets within a foot of the half-human's heart, the blonde is practically turned to stone, holding completely still, frozen in place.

As soon as the blue eyed man's hand lands upon Dean's arm, a strange electrifying heat travels through his body. He cringes at the hand lying against his burn, opening his mouth in preparation to yell in pain. That moment is when he registers that the contact does not actually hurt. It's warm and foreign, spreading across the surface of his skin and through his veins.

At that moment, all of the pain and soreness in Dean's body is gone. He feels completely refreshed, as though he has recovered from every sleepless night in the past year. All of the anger towards the world and the creature in front of him disappears almost instantly on contact. The immeasurable grief brought on by the loss of Dean's family and friends has somehow vanished, and a feeling of contentment washes over his mind.

It is then, through the clearness of his mind, that he sees his entire situation in a new light.

The half man that clutches his arm has his head tilted down in a way that hides his face from Dean's view. The monster is shaking in his place and mumbling broken words that hardly make sense to the ex-hunter. The Winchester can tell that the winged man is crying. He watches its back heave with every choked up sob, bloody and black wings shaking as they rise and fall with the rest of the man's torso. "I-I'm s-sorry, Dean. I'm s-so sorry," the human hears him sputter out.

The hand on Dean's shoulder tightens its grip slightly, making the blonde more conscious of the hand's pressure on his skin. He realizes that the hand is the exact same size as the mark and the position of each long slender finger matches up precisely with his burned flesh.

Dean, puzzled by what this may mean, is taken abruptly from his thoughts by the feeling of the half-man's head falling forward against his chest. He stares down at the set of dark wings that connect into the creature's shoulder blades, looking for any sign of movement, but only sees the slow and even rise and fall the other being's upper body, indicating that it has moved on into unconsciousness.

For the next minute or so, Dean is left worried and confused. The only noise in the room is the low, quiet whir and creaking of the industrialized fan above him. The only light comes from almost fifty feet up, and is cut off by each rotation of the fan blades.

The hand on his shoulder slides off slowly and falls to rest on the mattress of the cot. As the touch vanishes, so does the relaxing serenity that has filled Dean's mind for the last few moments. The reality of his situation slowly creeps back into his mind as if it had only snuck away briefly, as if Dean would not have even noticed that it was gone.

But he had.

There wasn't any way to turn back now. He now knows that the answers he searches for will not come with this standard, harsh interrogation. He now knows that he cannot bring himself to harm this creature again, not after the being had cried and apologized for defending himself from Dean's attack. He now knows that if it is at all possible to feel the way he did with the half-human's hand on his shoulder, taking away his pain and fatigue with only a touch, that he will do what needs to be done.

Hesitantly, Dean reaches down to slide his hand into his jean pocket until his fingers brush the cold iron of a key. He takes the key and puts the tip of it into the small keyhole in the handcuffs. The Winchester pushes down all feelings of doubt, hiding them behind a wall of determination as he turns the key. A tiny click comes from the manacles as they open, and Dean is careful as he pulls the ring from around the bloodied wrist before him.

It takes a minute of awkward maneuvering to accommodate to the creature's wings, but after some fumbling, he is soon hefting the man into his arms, carrying him like a child toward the exit of the panic room. It's hard for him to open the iron door, and even more difficult to ascend the wooden staircase as he leaves the basement, heading toward his bedroom. Eventually he sets the half-man down on his bed, taking care to lay him on his side to keep the pressure off of his hurt wing.

He considers for a moment the state of the avian man. He is shirtless, with purple and yellowing bruises all along his torso, the worst of which stretch along his side. He wears white pants which have tracks of dirt and blood on them, and his feet are bare. His hair is dark brown with patches of sticky red blood drying in it.

Dean decides to first patch up the damage that he inflicted upon the creature. He leaves the room and returns quickly with a handful of first aid supplies and a bottle of water for when the brunette wakes up. He pulls up a stool to sit beside the bed and begins his work in cleaning out the stab wound. He uses rubbing alcohol to clean out the wound before carefully stitching the flesh together with a needle and some dental floss. Dean checks through the dark hair of the avian to see if he has any serious damage done to his head. After finding, tending to, and stitching up a serious cut a bit above the man's hairline, he moves on to inspecting the half-man's hurt wing. He can tell that it is broken, but cannot decide upon how he should go about fixing it. After a quiet sigh he is leaving the room to get a wash cloth and more water to clean the excess blood with.

Once he has settled again, he dips the cloth into a bowl of water that he has set up on the nightstand and rings it out. The blonde uses very little pressure as he runs the damp cloth into the man's hair, being careful as he washes some of the dried blood from the man's scalp. After he has gotten a good portion of the blood from his hair, he re-dips the cloth in the bowl of water and wrings it out again before moving his hand to clean the injured man's face and neck, and upper arm and shoulder, applying little to no pressure in fear of loosening the stitches. All the while he watches the chest of the man rise and fall slowly.

Despite all of the pain the being must be in, he looks strangely calm in his sleep. Without thinking about it, he moves the rag lower to clean the blood from the other cuts on the brunette's chest, and soon he finds himself running the cloth tenderly over the palm of the strangers hand to wash the blood from it.

When the damp fingers slowly curl around Dean's hand to hold onto it weakly, every instinct in the hunter tells him to pull his hand away. His body goes tense and he looks up to the half-man's face, expecting to see vivid blue eyes piercing into his own, only to find that he is still asleep.

Still, the Winchester knows in his mind that he should pull his hand away, whether the creature poses a threat or not. But after all of the pain that this being has been through, some of which was caused by the ex-hunter, Dean cannot bring himself to pull away. So instead he holds completely still, silent, and waiting for those bright blue eyes to open.

Hey guys! Im thinking about writing a Sabriel spinoff of this story. Whatcha think? :D

Also please keep leaving me comments! Kisses!~