Disclaimer: Supernatural is still owned by Eric Kripke. I'm merely borrowing his characters for an idea that's been rolling around in my head for a while...

A small cloud of dust followed the Impala as potholes and other crevices in the road bit into its tires, tossing the passengers within. Dean did the best he could to minimize the jarring movement, but it was nearly impossible to dodge everything. He sighed with visible relief as they finally reached their destination, putting their off-roading adventure to an end. They hadn't been driving all that long, but he didn't want to put his baby through any more trouble. The last thing she needed was a timeout to change her shocks and struts.

Dean quickly cut the engine and took the keys out of the ignition, swinging them around his fingers and into his pocket in a well practiced movement. The doors to the car groaned in protest as both Winchester's opened them simultaneously. Dean stood and leaned his arm against the top of the door as he took in the town. He only vaguely registered the car's slight movement as Sam slammed his door shut.

"You know, I really thought there'd be a lot more here," Dean stated matter-of-factly as he shut his door. He could just make out the shape of his brother surveying the area with eyes squinted against the sun.

Sam snorted softly as he began to walk forward, "Dude, it's a ghost town. What'd you expect?"

"I dunno, Sammy. Maybe a town? You know. With ghosts?" Dean replied briskly. It wasn't his fault if he had assumed "ghost town" meant town full of restless spirits. For them, that wouldn't have been anything unusual.

Sam shot Dean an appraising look, not quite sure if his brother was joking with him or not. It would be like Dean to automatically infuse his statements with sarcasm just to make him chuckle. However, it would also be like Dean to take the definition of the words "ghost" and "town" literally. Whichever the cause, Sam decided it was best not to dwell on it and turned his attention towards the graying buildings covered in dust and filth.

"Whatever you say, Dean," replied Sam with just a touch of sing-song to harass his older sibling. Dean shot his younger brother a piercing glance daring him to say more. Sam, however, was not that stupid.

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful. Nothing was particularly out of the ordinary, especially considering the town had been completely abandoned nearly a century ago for reasons Sam still couldn't track down on the internet. He took in the sight of the buildings, somewhat awed that the red bricks used to build most of them weren't completely bleached by the sun.

The Winchesters wandered the abandoned town aimlessly, finding plates and silverware set up for meals that were never taken. Sam discovered a miniscule nugget of gold and Dean picked up a bit of EMF activity from a spirit that they later discovered was doing nothing more than reliving his horrendous death in an unending loop. (They found his grave in a small cemetery just outside of town then salted and burned his remains to put his spirit to rest.)

Neither Sam nor Dean was completely surprised by the amount of debris covering the town either, especially after considering the heavy storms and winds from the night before. Branches and sticks littered the little abandoned town, no doubt from the surrounding mesquite trees. Signs hanging from the building were crooked, having only one chain left to keep them attached to their sturdy iron bars mounted on the sides of buildings.

However, after searching the town for hours without turning anything up, both Winchesters were beginning to think that they had nothing to find. It was obvious that Aurora was a mess, but it wasn't anything terrible. In all honesty, it was almost so painfully obvious that it was storm damage that Sam was wondering why they had bothered to head out this way in the first place.

It wasn't until there was a thump on his arm accompanied with an impatient "Sam" that the younger Winchester remembered he and his brother were on a research type mission. He had to start paying attention. He had to be the hunter he had learned to be over the years or he'd end up missing some important details. Sam hadn't even realized that they had returned to the Impala already, either.

"What?" Sam asked, dumbly. He didn't catch the irritated look on Dean's face.

"I just said I think we should split up," Dean replied as he headed towards the back of the car.

Dean popped open the trunk and determinedly worked at the lock of the secret compartment, despite the fact that he could probably turn the little dial without even looking at it and still get it open. He knew how Sam felt about splitting up, even when it seemed completely safe. Hell, he hated splitting up with his brother, but he also knew they needed to cover some serious ground before dark. The sun was setting entirely too quickly for them to discover anything substantial together.

"Okay."

Dean's gaze snapped up to his brother's which was rapidly advancing towards the back of the car to snag his weapon of choice. The simple word he had heard come out of Sam's mouth was not what he had expected to hear.

"Seriously?"

"Dude! No!"

Dean huffed and grabbed his favorite sawed-off, holding it in a grip a little tighter than was necessary due to his rising nerves. He shifted his other hand enough to move his jacket. His father's colt was safely tucked into the waistband of his jeans. Dean grabbed for another shot gun, haphazardly tossing it to his brother as he began speaking once again.

"It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out we're losing daylight fast, Sammy," Dean argued.

"Yeah? And it doesn't take a genius to figure out one of us always gets hurt when we're separated!"

The Winchesters stared at one another, each daring the other to make the first move - the first strike. Dean knew Sam was right. Every time they separated on a hunt, one of them - usually himself - ended up injured or trapped in some impossible way. However, Sam also knew Dean was right. The sun was just barely hovering over the horizon now, meaning they only had about 45 minutes left of sunlight before they had to give up their hunt and start again tomorrow.

Sam broke eye contact with his brother and the standoff was ended.

"Fine. I'll take the south end of town, you take the north," Sam replied checking the salt rounds in his shot gun and reaching into the trunk to grab some more ammo.

Dean looked up at the sun, then looked left towards the south end of town. He could see dark clouds heralding another angry storm rapidly approaching. Without warning, Dean's hunter instincts went into overdrive and something in his gut told him to keep Sam away from that storm at all costs.

"Sure thing, Sammy," he began, slamming the trunk shut with a smirk on his face, "but I'm taking the south end on this one."

Before Sam could put in another word on the matter, Dean had turned and began his trek towards the southern edge of Aurora with his usual confident swagger. Sam shook his head and took in the storm clouds that were beginning to roll in from the same direction his brother was headed. Although something didn't sit right in his stomach, Sam turned and headed north to fulfill his end of the bargain.

Sam trudged along, keeping an eye out for anything that might be strange or unusual in the barren town. So far, he hadn't seen anything that they hadn't already stumbled upon except for a family of skittish prairie dogs that disappeared into the ground just as fast as they had appeared.

It wasn't long until Sam found himself on the outskirts of Aurora, trying to look out past the thick brush of the mesquite trees that obscured his view. It struck him as odd that so many trees should be growing where there should only be sparse gatherings of brush and maybe a desert flower or two. However, what was growing out there in the distance was definitely something…supernatural. Curious and determined, Sam took a few steps forward.

"The desert is a scary place, brother."

The voice was warm and friendly, but it caused Sam to jump and turn on his heel. He had expected Dean after hearing the word "brother", but the man standing before him now was definitely not Dean. The man before him had russet color skin and deep brown eyes that radiated warmth and vast amounts of wisdom. His hair grew long and was tied with a tan, suede cord that contrasted the silky darkness of his tresses.

Sam shifted, raising his shot gun as he warily surveyed the man before him. He was dressed in jeans and a dark brown trench coat that was a little on the long side for his smaller frame. The jacket was littered with stitches and a few newer holes that had yet to be patched up. Sam also noted, with a quirk of his eyebrow, that this particular trench coat seemed to have a hood attached. That in itself was odd, but what struck the younger Winchester the most was the unusual pattern in the print of the fabric that was only discernable as the man shifted his weight. It was almost as if his jacket was made of feathers.

"Friend, I mean you no harm," began the man in his earthy voice, "I am sorry if I startled you. I am unarmed."

The man pulled his trench coat open, revealing a sage green t-shirt and some jeans, but also a lack of weapons. Sam, although still on guard, lowered his weapon and held his ground. He hadn't even heard the man walk up behind him and he certainly hadn't seen him anywhere in the town earlier in the day or when he had just recently passed through. Where on earth had he come from?

"Do you usually sneak up on people you have no intention of harming?" asked Sam in a much harsher tone than he intended. He could tell the man wouldn't hurt a fly, but something in his gut told him to be cautious.

Instead of taking offense, the man merely smiled and countered, "Do you usually wander around ghost towns that play host to many unnatural beings?"

"Unnatural?"

Sam shifted and took a step forward with his question still heavy in the air. Whether or not this guy was going to harm him, he had managed to draw him in and keep him there. Now Sam knew he had to listen and listen carefully. This guy just might know a thing or two.

"Tell me, brother," the man said as he started casually circling behind Sam, "What do you know of my people that lived here long before your ancestors came from over seas?"

Sam carefully tracked the man and found himself with his back to the deserted town. He couldn't help but notice that the man was inspecting the mesquite trees with such interest that it was almost as if he were expecting something to leap from the branches and attack.

"You're an Indi-," Sam's word died on his lips as the man's eyes narrowed before he corrected his statement, "Uh, I mean, Native American."

"Yes, I am. As if the dark skin and black hair weren't a dead giveaway," the man smirked a bit.

"I don't like to make assumptions," countered Sam with a dark chuckle chasing his words.

If only he knew how many times assumptions nearly got me or Dean killed…

Sam watched as the man that had surprised him began to appraise him. Sam noted that his face seemed heavy with what could only be a great responsibility. He had seen that look on Dean's face in the time leading up to his death and, subsequently, his time in Hell. In fact, now that Sam allowed himself to take in the man before him as a person instead of a possible assailant, Sam noted that the man was full of fatigue, caution and a heaviness that seemed to make him much older than he actually was. However, it was only a moment before the same man began to smile in earnest. His eyes sparkled mischievously and Sam wondered exactly how long it had been since this man had interacted with another human being.

"So tell me," he said, his back to the trees in the distance, "What do you know of my people?"

Sam was genuinely confused and didn't know how to answer. It must have been painted all over his face, because no sooner had he opened his mouth to ask exactly what the man meant than the man spoke once again.

"What do you know of our legends? Our folklore?"

A strange prickling sensation ran down Sam's back at the tone of voice this man possessed. His words were inlaid with a certain understanding. It was that of a man that had seen and experienced much. Sam couldn't let it go.

"You know what's causing the storms," Sam said bluntly. He once again took a defensive stance against the man before him.

"Yes," replied the man simply.

A red hue began painting the ground, heralding sunset, and much of the surrounding area as the two men took in each other's presences, not quite sure what the next move should be. However, the color was soon eliminated as deep purple clouds soon obscured the setting sun. Any minute now, there would be a storm. This made Sam a little nervous due to the severity of last night's storm, but the man before him seemed to hardly notice.

"Who are you?" asked Sam.

"You can call me Aaron," he replied. His gaze was taking in the scenery behind the youngest Winchester, making Sam nervous enough to turn and check behind him. Nothing was there, but somehow, Sam knew that something was approaching from way off in the distance. He suddenly hoped Dean was alright.

Aaron was speaking again, however, before Sam had a chance to ask him any more questions.

"The Passamaquoddy are my people and they tell a story that begins many moons ago, before this land was taken by those across the sea. One of their tribe slipped through two gigantic crushing mountains that were many days journey from his home. There, he found another tribe. He laughed at them, because they would wear giant eagle wings and take to the sky."

Sam watched as the man spoke while buttoning his jacket. He didn't find it unusual that Aaron wanted to shield himself from the coming rain, however he did find it odd that there were many more buttons on his jacket than on a normal trench coat. The younger Winchester blinked a few times in an attempt to clear his vision.

"That's odd," he mumbled to himself as the feathers he had thought he saw in the fabric of the coat seemed to become more and more defined as the coat fastened around him. It had to be a trick of the light, right?

Aaron, seeming not to have noticed Sam's statement, continued, "The Elders of the tribe that the Passamaquoddy man had stumbled upon soon found my ancestor hiding in the bushes, observing their tribe."

"Wait, your ancestor? You mean this is a family history, not just some kind of legend?" Sam questioned the man, getting a funny feeling in his gut that usually accompanied the discovery of a supernatural occurrence was more than a mere bedtime story.

Aaron smiled softly at Sam and Sam knew, right then and there, that he was hearing something that was privy to no one except for direct descendents of this man's family and future descendents. What Aaron was telling him was privileged information that was probably infused with ancient ways of keeping it secret. The smile was confirmation of the truth that Aaron wouldn't be allowed to confirm with words.

"They dragged him out and demanded to hear why he had come," Aaron continued, "He said that he meant them no harm. He only desired to find the source of the thunder and lightening that had been plaguing his family back home. They agreed to share with him, the secrets of thunder and lightening, but that he would be changed forever."

Aaron shifted then in what Sam immediately recognized as agitation. However, Sam could also tell that there was more than one cause to Aaron's emotional upheaval. There was something out there that had his interest other than the legend he was now recounting for Sam; there was something that Aaron seemed to be using all of his self-control not to chase after.

"They crushed his body in a giant mortar and reshaped him in the image of the giant bird in which they worshipped. They gave him a sacred bow, but sent him away with no other answers," continued the Passamaquoddy man.

Sam was growing nervous as the seconds passed. Aaron's entire being was becoming more and more charged, as though he were preparing for battle. His eyes were dark with power and a certain malice that startled Sam. He knew it wasn't meant for himself, but it was still terrifying. Sam found himself aching to know if Dean was alright again.

"Then what?" Sam prompted. The man before him seemed to be taking more interest in the happenings away to the south than in completing the story.

"The newly changed Indian took to the sky and knew he was strong and fast," continued Aaron as he continued to stare past Sam, "He was careful to avoid the trees so that he would not harm them or himself, for he knew that although he was changed, he was not immortal."

Aaron began to pull anxiously at the hood on his trench coat and for a moment, Sam thought he caught a glimmer of yellow fabric at the tip of the hood.

"He flew for many days and many nights until he saw another great bird with crimson eyes circling below him. He called out in greeting and was shocked to find that this bird did not reply, but attacked him instead," Aaron stopped his story abruptly and craned his neck to see behind Sam just as a massive wind began to howl through the abandoned town of Aurora. The fierceness of the wind sent chills down Sam's back that had nothing to do with the storm it heralded. It felt almost as though there was a challenge in the sound, one that Aaron was suddenly accepting.

"Go now," Aaron said with urgency, "You must find your brother. RUN!"

"Dean," Sam said anxiously as he turned on his heel and ran south towards the end of town. He faltered for a moment, realizing he should tell Aaron that he would find him here to finish his story once he found Dean. Skidding to a halt, Sam turned to call out to the Passamaquoddy man. As the first heavy drops of rain began to fall, Sam noted that the man was gone just as suddenly as he had appeared.

A realization hit Sam just as the first flash of lightening ripped through the sky. He knew, without a doubt, exactly what he and his brother were dealing with, at least partly. If he was right, he needed to find his brother fast. He turned back and ran as swiftly as his body would carry him towards Dean.

"Stupid freakin' Sam and his stupid freakin' wild goose chases," muttered Dean angrily as he stalked towards the southern border of Aurora.

He had seen everything again, completely unchanged, as he wandered between empty buildings and dry, desert growth on his way towards the outskirts of town. Nothing had moved. Hell, it looked like the shadows hadn't even shifted, which was impossible given the angle of the sun.

He had reached the border of the town in record time, too lost in his own thought to have really taken anything in. The barrenness of the desert ahead of him gnawed at his gut, sending his hunter's intuition into overdrive. Without a second to think about what he was doing, Dean plunged ahead into the wilderness ahead of him.

At least, he reasoned with himself, it'll be easy to get back.

Dirt and gravel crunched beneath his boots as he continued to walk out into the desert. Dean cast his hazel gaze upwards at the incoming storm again as he walked. It was definitely overhead at this point, but the rain hadn't started. In fact, it almost looked as if the clouds were hovering exactly over the town. That was weird. Storms couldn't actually do that.

"I thought we were the storm chasers in this town, not the other way around," he muttered to himself once again.

Dean kept moving until he suddenly found himself face first on the ground. He coughed and spit out a bit of dirt, grumbling as he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees.

"The hell?"

He turned to look at what he had obviously just tripped over and the sight startled him for a moment. There was a large deer carcass at his feet. It was completely shredded through with gaping holes around its middle. Dark stains around the animal told Dean that the animal had drawn its last breath on this very spot. It had obviously been a meal to some desert creature, but Dean wasn't sure what could have brought it down.

The enormous beast, obviously a stag just due to its sheer size, was gruesome to take in despite Dean's many encounters with blood and gore. However, it was the animals head lying broken and battered about four feet away from its body that disturbed Dean the most. It was just an extremely brutal sight.

The older Winchester hauled himself to his feet, brushing the dirt from his jeans and wiping uselessly at his face. The dirt only managed to cake itself to his skin as his sweat began to mingle with the earth. Sam was going to harass him for this once he got back. He just knew it.

The crunching noises beneath his boots resumed as he continued forwards, daydreaming of getting back into the Impala and heading towards civilization. Dean's mouth was watering over thoughts of a thick, juicy burger when he started seeing them.

Carcasses.

Dozens and dozens of big game carcasses.

"Whoa," he said out loud as he took in the sight. Each one was exactly the same as the deer he had seen just outside of town, but there were a variety of animals included in the melee. There were big horn sheep, antelope and even a coyote or two that must have gotten between the hunter and its prey.

Alright, maybe there is something to this giant bird thing we saw after all.

Dean crouched over the closest body, inspecting the mess for signs of attack. Although the meat had been peeled away by what was obviously a bird - and what he suspected to be vultures - Dean couldn't find any evidence that would tell him exactly what had torn these animals to shreds.

He tilted his head to inspect the creature once more and something caught his eye. Careful to keep as much of the animal on the animal as he could, Dean picked at something until he was able to pull it off the creature and look at it.

It was a feather. An enormous, dark feather unlike anything he had ever seen before. Before he could inspect it further, it was snatched from between his fingers, leaving a red mark from the animal blood, as a strong wind started to pick up around him.

Dean shielded his eyes as the wind increased in strength, creating a small dirt devil that scattered loose sand and debris that tried to get into his eyes. A scream rattled his ears, but it felt like something much more terrible than the wind whipping around him. His heart began pounding in his chest as his survival instincts kicked into over drive.

There was the deep sound of rushing air and Dean felt a forceful blow to his back that sent him toppling forward, rolling end over end, until he was on his back staring up into the angry sky threatening to tear open at any moment. He gasped as air rushed back into his lungs after it had been forcefully been knocked out moments before. He blinked slowly, trying to regain his senses as a dark shadow soared over head. It had glowing crimson eyes.

Dean hefted himself off the ground and searched the surrounding area for his gun. He saw it, about three feet away from where he had been studying the corpse and took after it at a run. He bent at the waist, still running, to scoop up his weapon when he felt the pressure in the air change and he knew that the beast was right behind him.

He turned to look and nearly let out a yell when he came face to face with the beast once again. Its beak was open wide, emitting a terrible shriek that sounded so much like howling wind, that Dean's knees buckled from the force. He fell heavily to the ground, and covered his ears as the creature streaked past him and up into the air once more. As it rushed past, Dean noted, with sudden horror, that this thing - although bird like - definitely had teeth that it intended to use on him.

Dean turned his head and saw his shot gun was just within arms reach. He strained for it, watching as the bird streaked towards him a second time. It wasn't long before his sense slowed and everything seemed to happen to him as though it were struggling through molasses.

Before he knew what was happening, a sharp pain assaulted his senses somewhere around his middle. He could feel his shoulder wrenching painfully just as his fingers brushed against the smooth metal on the barrel of his gun. His head snapped backwards, hitting the ground with a jolt, as his body was lifted from the ground at an alarming speed. Spots floated before his eyes as shock and pain floated through him in a numbing mixture.

Dean looked towards the lower part of his chest and realized, with complete horror, that he was in the talons of the crimson eyed bird and it was squeezing him tightly. He took in a breath to yell and winced immediately. He definitely had a bruised rib if it wasn't cracked completely.

What happened in the next few moments was a complete blur that Dean would only be able to recall in short spurts. He would always remember the sound of thunder so loud that it felt as though it were crashing inches from his ears. He would remember seeing golden eyes full of fury and he would remember the sensations of free falling from the talons of his attacker as he plummeted back towards the ground before he blacked out.

A/N: Another chapter up for your enjoyment! Please, please, PLEASE review!

xoTrebleMaker