Chapter 2

Sam lowered his gun and did quick scan of the unmoving man at his feet. Two shots to the heart. The werewolf was deader than dead.

He didn't have time to worry about the body. Someone would have heard the gunshots.

And he'd heard Dean's scream.

Sam shoved the gun between his back and waist band and started to book toward where he and Dean had split. The thought that the werewolf could have attacked Dean before it had reached him crossed Sam's mind, but he tried not to dwell on it. The alley was just ahead.

He skidded to a stop.

Dean clung to the brick wall of one of the older buildings as if he were hanging on for dear life. His face was unnaturally pale, eyes glassy, but that wasn't what concerned Sam the most.

The wings were back. Not just back; they had doubled in size.

Sam instinctively went for his gun. "Dean?" he called, edging closer.

Dean's head bobbed up. He seemed to stare right through Sam.

"Dean?" Sam didn't like the faraway look in his brother's eyes.

At this point, Sam didn't know how much of Dean was there, at least consciously.

He let his gaze travel up. The wings, thicker and hardier than before, arched over Dean's shoulders. If you followed the wing line, they matched the length of his back and legs, ending at the ankles. The former, smaller set had been deadly enough. These were cold. Militant.

Sam was convinced now more than ever that whatever was happening to Dean was going to turn into something big.

"Sam," he said hoarsely. "That you?"

"It's me." Sam gave a nervous glance around. This place could be flooded with people at any time. "Dean, put them away."

"What?" Dean cringed and pulled away, pressing his face to the wall.

Sam didn't need this right now.

He rounded around Dean, stooping to pick up his brother's dropped firearm. As he slipped it inside his suit jacket, he realized there was a man hiding in the boxes across from them.

They had a witness. Dean's wings were out in full view, and they had a witness.

"Get rid of them," Sam hissed. "What are you doing?"

Dean leaned against the wall, his eyes slipping shut. Sam felt his heart-rate quicken. Dean couldn't pass out now. Sam gave him a little shake.

"Dean, come on."

"Stay awake," Dean managed to say.

"Yeah, exactly. But put them away."

"They're stuck," Dean muttered. He slumped against the wall. "I'm tired."

Sam stowed away both their weapons, and swallowing down the crawling feeling that was marching up and down his arms, he went to help his brother.

Careful not to touch the feathers, at least the best he could, Sam slipped his arm under Dean's arms and beneath his wings to hoist him up. That was easier said than done. The extra weight from the wings kept holding them down, and Dean's lack of effort wasn't helping.

"We have to get out of here," Sam told him. "Come on, cut me some slack. You need to help."

Dean let out a grunt as he tried to right himself on his own two feet. He was marginally successful—Sam felt the pressure ease from his burning shoulders—but it wasn't enough for them to get out quickly. The wings were too big to hide under a jacket, and they had demolished Dean's suit, leaving ragged shreds of material hanging everywhere. That wasn't counting the new chunks of Dean Sam kept seeing scattered all over the alley.

In other words, there was DNA evidence all over the place.

The homeless man was still staring.

He hated to do this, but he didn't see any other options.

"Not one word of this or I will find you, you understand?" Sam told the man.

He nodded mutely.

When he was positive the man got the message, Sam started the arduous task of dragging Dean back down the alley. At this point, he didn't even know how he was going to fit Dean into the car. Scratch that. He didn't even know how he was going to get to the car. The Impala was parked on the street. It was only early evening. The streets would be busy.

There was no time for a glamour spell. No time to hide in the alley.

Dean's feet started to drag.

Sam gave him a sharp tug. The action snapped Dean's head up. He blinked and seemed awake, but his eyes told a different story. Dean's mind was someplace else.

"Focus," Sam told him.

"I didn't pass out this time." Dean said it like it was a true accomplishment.

"We need to get to the Impala. Are you sure you can't just…make them disappear?"

"Dude, it's like all over me."

Sam dropped the conversation. He wasn't going to get anywhere with Dean right now.

Summoning everything he had in him, Sam pulled, dragged, and practically carried Dean toward the open street. The Impala was parked right by the curb, only a few feet back from the entrance into the alley. If he could toss Dean in the back and shut the door, they would be good.

In the distance, he heard the sirens blaring. It was going to have to be all or nothing. They were going to break for the Impala.

Sam broke into the street and shoved Dean at the Impala. His brother hit the door with a thud, but the wings propped him up. Dean fumbled a bit to try to right himself, but whatever sense of balance he once had was gone. Sam realized they were only attracting more attention this way; a few people across the street slowed, and all around him Sam heard the starts of whispers.

Sam ignored them. After he ripped the back seat open, he grabbed Dean and stuffed him inside. The wings protested and started flapping up a storm, but Sam didn't care, even as the feathers butchered his arms. Dean was going to fit into the back seat even if Sam had to snap the wings in half.

Feathers flew everywhere while Sam's own blood ran free. People had stopped now. And were staring.

Close enough. Sam slammed the door.

Dean let out a painful yelp, but his own fogginess seemed to damper the reaction Sam would have normally expected. Sam let that thought stew while he hoped into the driver's seat and peeled away from the scene.

"You okay?"

Dean didn't answer.

Sam hit the accelerator and aimed straight for the nearest road out of Brighton.

xoxoxox

By now, the leading roads were dark. No one was leaving Brighton; the majority of traffic drove into the city. Sam used that fact to his advantage.

He bolted out of the fringes of town, following the curves of a long highway as he surveyed the surrounding countryside. Along the sides of the road were the occasional farmhouse, random homes, and rundown mills. None of them seemed abandoned enough for his liking, so he kept driving.

"Dean?"

When all he got was silence for an answer, Sam glanced into the rearview mirror. All he could see were feathers poking up and down, as well as sideways, effectively blocking any view of his brother or the open road behind them.

They couldn't go on like this. Sam knew they would have to stop eventually for gas or to eat or even to rest. They were only ten minutes out of Brighton, and though Sam had escaped to some of the nearby country, they couldn't avoid hitting more populated areas. He didn't even want to think about what would happen if a cop slowed them down, or what was going around down in the alleys in Brighton this minute.

He and Dean were screwed.

Sam glanced down at his cell phone which was bouncing around on the passenger seat. He shook his head and thought better of it. He could handle this himself.

There was a turn in the road up ahead, and Sam brought the Impala along the curve, surprised to find a field to his right. The field had seen better days, broken with wild patches of brown grass, but behind it Sam saw the side of an old, decimated barn house.

That could work.

Sam brought the Impala into a sharp turn and started to roll over the bumpy field. The mud had frozen from the drop in temperatures, causing the Impala to rock and groan in ways Sam knew had to be bad at this speed. What Dean didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Ahead, the farm house beckoned them closer, and when Sam pulled the Impala in front of its worn doors, he could appreciate its size. There was more than enough room for Sam to shove Dean inside, and out of view, along with the Impala if it had to come to that.

Of course, a place like this would be one of the top spots the police would look if they ever linked the two of them to the crime scene back in the city.

Sam would worry about that next.

He parked the car and jumped out, opting to try to drag Dean out of the backseat rather them nudge him into doing it himself. As long as he could find him.

The backseat was nothing but a sea of feathers. Through the mass, Sam thought he saw one of Dean's boots, but that wouldn't help him. Cringing, Sam reached his hand inside, biting down the pain as his arm was mangled again, and searched for Dean.

An arm.

Sam pulled hard, using Dean's arm to give him some distance. Every time he gave Dean a yank, one of the folded wings would smack against the frame of the car, preventing Dean from moving further.

"Come on, Dean. Help me out."

As he tugged Dean, first the feathers, then the tops of his wings, spilled out of the car, until Dean tumbled into a heap on the ground.

He wasn't moving.

Sam rolled Dean onto his back. The wings contorted and folded in unnatural ways as the weight of Dean's body pressed down on them. Open, glassy eyes stared ahead skyward, but there was no recognition in them. Sam pressed his fingers to Dean's neck, sighing with relief when he felt a pulse. Faint breath escaped his open mouth. It was as if Dean was deep into a trance.

Sam wasn't sure if that was better or worse than having him pass out instead.

Either way, Sam was tired of being out in the open. He grabbed Dean's arms, no longer hidden beneath the wings, and pulled him head first toward the tattered barn doors. Sam glanced over his shoulder, careful not to bump into the frame itself, as he slid Dean between the open door and out of view.

The barn had seen better days. Plenty of old hay lined the dirt inside, dry and brittle in some spots, while damp in areas where the run off from the field had seeped inside the barn. Sam dragged Dean to the largest pile of dry hay that he could find. When Dean was secure, he swung the doors open to their fullest capacity and backed the Impala in at an angle. He couldn't help but smile when he managed to fit the entire car into the confines of the barn.

Sam took a moment to stare at his brother. The wings had seemed smaller when Dean had been jammed back into the car. Here, like in the alley, they had room to fan out. Just looking at them made Sam's stomach turn. At least Sam knew where all the extra food Dean had been inhaling had gone.

Knowing that fact made Sam even more uneasy. He couldn't guess what was going on in Dean's head right now, or what other physical changes had happened that Sam couldn't see.

Not even the wings moved anymore. Dean was so still he might as well be dead.

He would be okay. Sam would make sure of it.

After taking another glance at Dean, Sam rounded the Impala and stepped out into the chilly night air. He kept the door slightly ajar so he could keep an eye on his brother. What he was about to do, he'd rather do in private.

With a deep breath, Sam took out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. Bobby's number flashed brightly in front of him.

Bobby needed to know. With his vast library, he must have something rotting away on his shelves that could help Dean. The longer they kept the truth from him, the harder it would be when the truth came out.

Sam found something ironic about that statement. But he wasn't about to start thinking about how lousy his situation was right now.

Although he went to hit the number for Bobby, Sam wasn't all that surprised when his fingers found a different number instead.

She didn't even bother to answer her phone. She just appeared.

"This better be good," Ruby said.

"I wouldn't call you if it wasn't."

"You make a girl feel so wanted." Her attention had already shifted, and with a frown, she glanced over at the open barn. "What's in there?"

Sam found his hackles rise at Ruby's uneasy reaction. He filed it away, and focused on what was important. Ruby had a spell for everything. She would find a way out of this mess.

Without another word, he strolled over to the barn and opened the door wider. Ruby's reaction threw him.

She looked inside and all her demon cool was lost. Her eyes widened and she took a step back. When she turned to him, her glare was as sharp as her demon knife.

"You're kidding me."

Sam wished he was. "Can you help him?"

"Can I help him? Sam, I don't even know what he is."

Now it was Sam's turn to frown. "Are you saying you can't or you won't?"

"Way to read between the lines," she muttered. Her face softened when she approached him. "There's some intense magic at work in there. I know you can feel it, too."

"Angels." Sam had known it for months.

She nodded. "And I don't know about you, but if angels are involved, I am so out of here."

Ruby started to stomp off, but Sam caught her by the elbow, spinning her around. "You helped last time."

"Yeah, and last time I got tortured by Alastair."

"I know I'm asking a lot…"

"You are asking a lot. This is a distraction. We should be out hunting down Lilith's cronies, not babysitting Birdman."

Part of Sam knew she was right. This thing with Dean was a distraction and kept slowing them down. At the same time, he couldn't just abandon Dean. He wasn't himself. Hell had made him weak. Whatever was going on with Dean, this new issue just conflated what was wrong from the start.

Ruby sighed. "I know you care about him, and despite the fact I loathe his guts, I hate to see the rift between you, but let's face reality."

"And what's that?"

"That?" She pointed to Dean's unmoving body in the hay. "That's not your brother anymore."

Sam didn't want to consider that suggestion.

"He's still Dean. Something's happened to him that we need to fix."

Ruby let out a frustrated laugh. "No, Sam. He's not Dean. Whatever that is came back wrong or different. The angels made sure of it. It probably hasn't been Dean from the start."

He wasn't hearing this at all. Everything Ruby said had been his fear from the moment Dean had knocked on his motel room door.

"Dean came back from Hell. He's not going to be all sunshine and roses," Sam said, feeling the heat rise in his face. "The angels aren't exactly our friends. Why would they bother to change Dean?"

"No, the angels aren't exactly your friends. Or mine." She shifted her weight to the side and crossed her arms. "Obviously, they're chummy with Dean."

"You were there with Anna. You saw them threaten Dean. If he were with them, they wouldn't have wanted to send him back to Hell."

"Fine. Stay in denial. See how that works out for you when he finds out what you've been doing and kills you in your sleep."

Sam wanted to lash out at her with all the anger and frustration stored inside. His fists balled. His jaw twitched from the tension. He didn't strike. He didn't do anything because deep down, he knew that she was right. One day, Dean would find out. Dean may tease him about being a freak, but he'd never left him willingly. If that ever changed, if he ever saw him as a monster, or worse, Sam wasn't sure what he would do.

"Then what about me?" he asked at last. "I have demon blood. I'm still me. Dean is the same."

"No, he's not. You're different. I thought we'd established that."

Sam stared at her, earning an impatient glare in return.

She rolled her eyes. "You're stronger than Dean. I've been grooming you to use your powers, but in the end it's all you. Your strength and your determination. You and I both know your brother never had the same stamina that you do."

All Dean ever wanted to do anymore was a run from a fight. He'd take on the ghosts and the goblins, but any mention of Lilith and he had a million other jobs lined up and ready to go. Sam hated to think Ruby was right, but the truth was Dean was too broken to fight off whatever was happening to him.

That didn't mean Sam would abandon him.

"What do we do?" he asked.

She shook her head, but whatever insult she wanted to say never made it to her lips. "Since you're being stubborn about this, I'll check to see what I have. This is big, Sam. I might have to cash in some favors. And I won't be pretty."

Sam nodded, knowing the consequences. "Do it."

Ruby didn't say goodbye. In a blink of any eye, she was gone.

Her disappearance left him feeling empty, a void he couldn't seem to fill even as he slipped back into the barn to be with Dean. His brother continued to stare blankly into space, unmoving, with his body a tangle of limbs and feathers on the hay stack.

That's not your brother.

Ruby's words were like a virus, multiplying and invading every part of his brain. He prayed that she was wrong and that the cure would soon be in their reach. But like she said, he had to face reality, and in this case the reality seemed like it was too big for even him to handle.