Angels/Demons + Old West AU courtesy of prompt.

The air down here was rough on his skin.

He slowly pushed himself up, wincing as the skin of his back moved and disturbed the drying blood. The raw wounds— and the jutting bones of what used to be his wings— stung, something that was… new, fascinating. It hurt, but the sensation itself was new, and he wondered why and how his current, human form reacted to it without a second thought.

Such interesting new things, he thought. But his musings were cut short when the sounds of hooves on dirt, steadily getting louder and louder. He looked up, impassive, and gazed as the figure in the distance became clearer and clearer, though a cloud of kicked up dust obscured him. A man, he could tell. A white horse, fit and well-cared for. The man lived nearby and heard him. Perhaps he should move, should leave this crater his Fall made. But the thought halted when he moved his shoulders.

All right, perhaps he was becoming more human than he thought. Pain was a new feeling for him, but what a hindrance it was.

"You okay there?" the man on the horse asked as he stopped just outside the crater. The horse neighed and stomped on the ground, as though she knew what she faced. The man, however, was another story. "Do you need help?"

He looked up.

"M'name is Oswell Miller, Oz for short. I'm here to help. You okay down there?"

"Ye—" the pain on his back flared— "Maybe not."

Oswell laughed, getting off his horse and slowly descending the crater. His nimble movements reminded him of dancing figures: sure, steady. Sons of God were lucky, he thought, as Oswell at last reached the bottom. Rocks rolled down. "You made a crater and a boom loud enough to reach our house, and it's pretty much in the middle of nowhere. I daresay you're less well than you thought. What's your name?"

Name. He had other names, many names, but not names Man would be able to say. But the language of men had always been something he was fascinated in. "Seth."

Appointed. He liked the sound of the word.

"Well nice to meet ya, Seth. How about we get you out of here before someone sees you? I don't know if you noticed, but you've got bloody feathers on stumps on your back, and it might look weird to anyone else."

Seth nodded, getting to his feet. The pain made him wobble, made his legs weak, but Oswell stepped forward and grabbed his arm, steadying him as they climbed out of the crater. "Are you not questioning my wings— or what was left of it?"

Oswell snorted. "I've seen weirder things. Comes with the job, yanno. My family deals with this kinda thing. Exorcism, spirits, things like that. God knows what made you Fall, but heck, if you're not in Hell I figured I still have the obligations to help you. Now can you get on?"

As if to answer his question, Seth's legs gave way once they reached the horse. Oswell just rolled his eyes and hoisted him up the horse, who only made a small whinny at the added weight.

"Well, hold on tight."

God's strength. What funny thing, Fate is.