A/N: Thanks for the wonderful reviews. Special thanks go to SaintsGhost, cuddygirl18, psicat76, and StarMage1 for their regular reviews and support. Hope this chapter lives up to your expectations! You guys are keeping me going! This chapter title is taken from Visage. Hope you all enjoy.

Stairway to Heaven

Chapter Four: Damned Don't Cry

Sam wanted to cry.

He did.

But somewhere between Palo Alto and the shady gravesite, his tears had dried up.

He could feel them, all blocked up in his head, pushing and pounding his already sore skull. Vaguely, he wondered if everyone could see his head throbbing, or if it was just Dean, who had edged as close as he could, without touching, to Sam. He figured that someone else had to hear that pulsating noise, the one that kept blocking out the priest's words…

"There is a time for everything…"

And not enough time for everyone, Sam thought vaguely, tuning out as the voice continued droning on about life and death, happiness and sadness, good, bad…

He could see her parents.

Her mother, sobbing into her husband's arms. Apparently his tears had dried up too.

Sam could remember knocking on their door, flashing back to the first time he'd done so, with Jess at his side…

"Don't worry, Sam they'll love you."

"Yeah, but what if they don't…"

He couldn't step off the porch, couldn't move inside the house, the house with the charred and blackened corner. Somehow, he'd managed to pass the box full of Jess' things to her father, who'd answered the door, with a mumbled, "She'd want you to have this…"

They'd invited him in, but he couldn't. Couldn't get past the threshold.

And he thought they understood.

But he couldn't bring himself to care if they didn't.

In fact, his whole world was unraveling at the seams, and he just didn't give a damn anymore.

How much worse could it get? His girlfriend was dead. His dad was AWOL, not that they'd been talking anyway. His mother was, apparently, some sort of supernatural creature, and now he was going to be sprouting feathers. Which was accompanied by his head feeling like it was going to explode and his back attempting to split down the middle. Oh, and if it wasn't bad enough that there was some freakin' demon out there that was apparently, now, trying to kill him, they'd have to avoid overzealous hunters who shot anything that sparkled too brightly.

Sam had stopped laughing days ago, sometime after they left behind the empty apartment. And he knew that Dean was worried about him, but it was too hard to care. It was sunny today, Jess liked when it was sunny, but it shouldn't be now, because Jess was dead and there shouldn't be anymore sun…

Sam couldn't get angry, though.

He'd tried.

But he was suffocating.

Drowning.

Dean was trying to pull him up, the jokes coming more readily, more forced than they should be. But Dean was slipping too.

Because Dean had come to Sam, looking for help. This time he'd been the brother in trouble, and he needed Sam to pull him up…

Now they were both falling.

If only we could fly…

Sam nearly giggled at his own analogy, Dean probably could fly, and he would be able to, soon…he saw Dean shoot him a worried glance when the idiotic grin spread over his face, so Sam clamped down on the bubble of hysteria that was rising in his chest, and felt the pressure build.

Suddenly the crowd was moving forward, to drop flowers and cards and who knows what else on top of the empty casket. People were patting his shoulder, trying to hug him, but he stepped back, stomping right on Dean's foot as his older brother reached out to steady him…to trap him. "No, let go," he muttered, pulling away and struggling to move further from the pressing crowd.

Dean's hand dropped from his brother's arm, and he held his hands up, placating. This was the most emotion Sam had shown in days, and he was a little worried about what all the pent up feelings were going to do, and how they were going to come out. He had a feeling that the results might be explosive, and wasn't sure that the middle of a cemetery, surrounded by all of Jess' family and friends, was the best place for a meltdown to occur.

Suddenly, Sam pushed forward, through the crowd, and dropped down to his knees, kneeling at the lip of the large hole that held the polished wooden casket. People turned to stare, but he was oblivious now, he had blocked out everyone, not even aware of his older brother, who had knelt beside him, monkey suit and all. Fumbling inside his suit jacket, Sam pulled out a small object, clutching it tightly in a white knuckled grip.

"Jess," he whispered, leaning forward to touch the casket that had yet to be lowered all the way into the ground.

Dean's arm shot out, afraid that his brother was going to tumble head first into the ground after his girlfriend, but Sam leaned back again, and Dean's hand snaked back to his side.

"You know, I was going to wait until after the interview for this…I shouldn't have waited, Jess. But I had it all planned out. After the interview, I was going to take you to that bench, the one where we watched the sun set every Friday night…"

Suddenly he sobbed, and all the tears that had been absent for so long made themselves known. With trembling fingers, Sam opened his hand to reveal a small, red, velvet box, and carefully, he pried it open, revealing the cut diamond that glittered in the sun.

"I love you, Jess," the words came out stunted, he was choking on the sobs that seemed to be stuck in his throat. "And I would be honored if you would be my wife…"

The ring slipped from numb fingers, the gold band catching in the sunlight as it fell into the dark hole. No one said anything as earth-shattering sobs were torn from the young man's throat. And as he began to slip sideways, they looked away, unable to watch as his brother caught him and pulled him backwards, far enough from the graveside that Sam couldn't fall in and follow the same path as that abandoned ring.

"Dean," the word came out as a plea. Save me…

"I've gotchya, Sammy. I'm not letting go…"

It was hard to draw a breath now, the sobs leaving him gasping, unable to take in enough air before the next one was wrenched from his abused vocal cords. He could feel Dean pressing him closer, as if somehow he could tie Sam down and keep him from being swept away in this storm…

"I've gotchya, I've gotchya…"

Dean pressed Sam's forehead to his own, hand holding tightly to the back of his head, trying desperately to ground Sam, keep him from falling…

The vise around his chest was tightening, and as if his body hadn't already committed enough betrayal, his head suddenly erupted in blinding pain, and his body arched as his back attempted to tear itself apart…

He was screaming.

Dean was screaming. "Shit, Sam, not now, not now!"

His mother was screaming. Sliding up the wall…

"Sam!"

Jess was screaming…it was his fault, his fault, he knew, he knew…

"Sam!"

"Should I call for an ambulance?"

Dad was screaming. "Sammy!"

He was rocking, moving. "Just hold on until I get us back to the motel, Sam."

"Dean! Sam!"

"Dad…"

"No, kiddo, Dad isn't here, just hold on…"

"Take Sam and run!"

Take Sam and…

Run.

Sam. Run.

Fly.

No, Dad, he's screaming, he's screaming…

"Daadd…"

Dean cursed his father to the seven hells and back again as he dragged Sam into the empty room, trying to ignore the pulsating muscles beneath his hands.

He's screaming, blood, so much blood…

Something silver flashing in the dark.

Screaming.

"No! You leave my boys alone!"

Pain, God, it hurts…

"Daaadd…hurtsss…."

"I know kiddo," Dean's own tears slipped silently down his face as he gently flipped his brother on his stomach, revealing the moving mass of muscle. Suddenly, he thought of all the beetles in "The Mummy" and wondered if he was going to be sick.

It hurts, it hurts…

"Dad!"

"Sammy, get out of here!"

"No, I'm not leaving without you!"

"Daaddd…"

"Can't we just catch one damn break!" Dean screamed into the empty air, whirling around angrily, looking for something, anything that he could direct his rage at.

"Deeaann…"

"Where's Dean?"

Dean…where was Dean.

"I don't know, Dad…"

Suddenly, there was a face in the darkness, illuminated by a fiery sword.

Hands reached for him, grasping at his back, and grabbing something, pulling…

He tried to move, tried to escape.

"DAD!"

"Sam!"

"DEAN!!"

"Deee…"

Dean knelt beside the bed, pushing back the sweat soaked curls. "I'm here, Sammy. Right here…"

The sword came down, he could smell burning flesh and feathers and then…

"Ahhh!!!"

Sam's entire body moved to push the wings from his back. It wasn't the gentle unfurling that Dean had shown him, no. They were ripped from his shoulder blades in one forceful push, knocking Dean around the head and causing him to fall backwards as new muscle and feathers occupied the space where he had been.

Nothing.

*~~*

His whole body hurt.

At least, he thought it was his body.

It felt kinda funny.

Like there was something soft and heavy on his back. Wrapped around him.

Kinda like a down comforter.

Except, there was more down, and less comforter.

A lot more down apparently.

"Dean," he muttered, "Get your feathers out of my face."

Across the room, a chair clattered to the floor and there was a loud 'whump' which Sam registered was the sound of a falling body. More specifically, Dean's. "Shit, Sammy, gave me a heart attack. Shouldn't scare your older brother when he's sleeping."

There was a pause, in which Sam tried to figure out how his brother's wings could possibly be on top of him when Dean's voice was coming across the room when things finally started to click into place…

"Holy crap, I've got wings!"

Sam jumped from the bed, managing to painfully smack his shin off the end table and then trip over a discarded pile of clothes and duffel bags--probably Dean's doing. "And apparently, no grace," Dean quipped, trying to keep the grin from splitting his face as Sam bounced around on first one foot, then the other, finally wind milling his arms to land face first on the other bed.

"Ouch," Sam muttered, pulling himself up and kicking the offending duffel bags away and managing to stub his socked toe. "Damn it!" He was still in suit pants, which Sam made a mental note to thank Dean for later, but his jacket, tie and shirt were discarded in a pile with Dean's own clothes. "Crap, crap, crap…"

"Sam…just calm down," Dean couldn't help the laughter that was slipping into his voice.

"I am calm, you jerk! I have frickin' wings coming out my back, and I have no idea how to make them…" he waved his hands around wildly.

"Make them what?" The grin was definitely pulling at the corner of his mouth. His brother looked like an overgrown chicken…

"You, know, poof!" His hands waved outwards rather violently, nearly clocking Dean who had made the mistake of coming too close.

"Poof?" Dean bit his lip, green eyes sparkling with laughter.

"Yeah, poo…" Sam looked up, finally noticing Dean's loosing battle with laughter. "Are you making fun of me? You're making fun of me aren't you!" He stood, wings framing him angrily, making him look like a half, crazed, and half naked, version of an avenging angel. Dean couldn't help it as a howl escaped, and he collapsed on the lime green motel carpet, giggling like a toddler.

Sam's displeasure came out as a strangled grunt, making him sound like a dying cow, and causing Dean to laugh even harder. Hands fisted at his sides, Sam took a step forward, caught his foot on the duffel bag, again, and toppled down, unused to compensating for the weight on his back. He landed on Dean, who felt all the air leave his stomach for the second time since he'd caught back up with Sam, and both of them were left spluttering on the floor, too tangled up to move.

Finally, when Dean was able to breathe again, he spoke. "You gotta stop trying to get me in bed like this. Clearly, it isn't working."

Sam moaned and punched him, blindly swinging and hitting him in the stomach, causing Dean to gasp again. "Bitch."

"Jerk."

Somehow they managed to disentangle themselves, and Sam made sure he moved the offending duffels and clothes piles to an unused corner, before deciding to try the conversation with his brother again. Sitting gingerly, and attempting to ignore the heavy, but not uncomfortable, weight at his back, Sam cleared his throat. "Right, so, umm…how do you…"

"I swear, Sammy," Dean started, grin already tweaking at his lips as he leaned back in his chair and propped his legs up on the table, "if you say poof…" at this the smile reappeared, "I think I might pee myself."

"Fine, Dean, how the hell do you get rid of them!" Sam snapped, nonexistent patience long gone by now.

"Okay, okay, don't get your wings in a bunch…"

"Dean," Sam hissed.

"Fine, don't get your feathers in a knot?"

"DEAN!"

"Sheesh," he muttered, his chair clunking to the ground as he stood. "I'm serious, Sammy, you gotta relax."

"Relax?! You want me to relax? I have these things growing out of my back and you want me to relax!"

Dean winced internally, and then played the sucker card. "Yeah, I know, Sam. Remember, I've got them too! And for your information, you weren't there when I woke up to mine! In fact, I had Dad to wake up to, who was trying to figure out if there was a way to cut them out of my back without killing me, so, yeah, I get that it's a little hard to relax, Sam!"

Sam froze at the edge of the bed, paling at Dean's words. "Oh, God, Dean. I'm so sorry. I didn't think, I just, with Jess, and…"

Dean's own guilt caused his gut to twinge, and he crossed the room in three long strides, already steeling himself up for another chick flick moment. "No, Sammy. It's okay. Everything's okay, I promise…"

He pulled Sam close, ready to soothe him by rocking as he had when his brother had been shorter than he was, when he realized that Sam was vibrating. Moving back and holding his brother at arms length, Dean studied Sam's face and realized that his brother was silently laughing. "Dude! What's so funny?"

Sam glanced at Dean's face, and looked away again, biting his lip as he shook with the hysterical giggles.

"What, is there something on my face?"

"No," Sam smiled. "It's just…Man, I think the wings have turned you into a giant girl. You've initiated more hugging in the past week than I ever have."

Sam supposed he deserved the slap that was delivered to the back of his head.

*~~*

Dean had, eventually, explained to Sam that the easiest way to get rid of the wings was to go to sleep.

"Seriously, the only way I really know how to get rid of them is to go to sleep. I mean, they go away when you calm down, but I don't think you're going to do that while cooped up in this motel room…"

"So, if they disappear when you calm down, when do they…pop out?"

Dean had to struggle not to grin, and so he turned away when he answered. "Mine tend to try to, pop out," his voice cracked a little at this, "when I'm really mad. Or I guess, scared shitless."

"You, scared?"

Sam sounded genuinely surprised, and Dean turned, catching the concern that flitted across his brother's face. "Yeah, even Batman get's scared sometimes, Sammy."

"Yeah, that's when he has to call Superman for help."

"That will never happen."

"Oh, come on, Superman has laser vision, and he can fly…" He paused, eyes suddenly lighting in excitement. "Do you think we can fly, Dean?"

Dean was standing in the big empty field, Sam holding onto his hands. "You ready Sammy?"

"Ready, Dean!"

"Three, two, one, blast off!!" Dean swung around quickly, Sam's feet lifted from the ground as they spun.

"I'm flying! Deanie, I'm flying!"

They were laying in the grass, watching the sun set, when Sam's little hand reached out to grab Dean's own. "Do you think we can fly, Dean? For real?"

"I don't know, kiddo," the mere thought of a plane made Dean panic. "I like keeping my feet on the ground."

"Don't worry, Dean. I'll hold your hand. I'll be just like Superman. We can fly away, together."

"You know, Sammy. I might just like that."

The mere thought of flying still sent a wave of panic through him. "You can try it. Me, I'm not throwing myself off any buildings."

Sam seemed to study him for a second and then shrugged. "Fine." He stood, moving towards the duffel bag that held all the books that Dean had carefully packed. His wings folded neatly behind his back, luckily, keeping him from clipping both the lamp and Dean's head as he walked by. "Wait a second," he turned suddenly.

"What?"

"If your," Sam gestured at his back, "pop out whenever you're angry…wouldn't they be comin' out an awful lot?"

"Ha ha, very funny, Sam." Dean glared, but there was no heat behind it. "For your information, I said try, try, to pop out."

"Well, then why don't they?"

"Because I've always had better self control than you."

Childishly, Sam stuck his tongue out at his brother.

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair before smoothing it down his face. "Honestly, Sam, I'm just starting to figure this thing out. I mean so far, the wings are it, but I highly doubt that they'll be the only thing to go haywire on us. So far, neither of us are glowing with otherworldly light, so I guess that's a good sign…

"And I'm not a girl," Dean continued.

"Yet," Sam interjected.

"Unlike Samantha," as if he hadn't been interrupted, Dean proceeded. "When those…things…are gonna 'pop out' there's like, a half second of warning where it hurts. And if you stop them from coming out, it hurts a lot more…but it's easier than explaining why you look like a freakin' fairy in a biker bar."

"So how do you do it?"

Dean shrugged. "I'm not sure. I just…It's like I lock them up in my head."

"Uh-huh…" Sam cleared his throat. "Right, then I'll just see if there's anything about how to make them disappear in here," he riffled through the bag.

Dean was about to turn, intent on finding his jacket and car keys so he could go feed his raging belly, when Sam's spine stiffened. Sam spun around slowly, an unreadable look on his face. "Dean, where did this come from?"

In his hand, Sam was holding a thick, battered, leather journal.

A/N: Let me know what you're all thinking. There's nothing I enjoy more than hearing about what you guys like, dislike, or are curious about in the story! (P.S. All flames will be used to burn the ticks! Since there are an abundance of them where I live. Feel free to send the flames my way!).