Chapter 4

The light circled around him, manic and crazed, while the whistles burrowed into Dean's skull. He tried to scratch them away, ignoring the pain shooting through his back as he dug at his temples, but the cacophony of sound continued to hammer at his brain. He screwed his eyes shut. It was as if a thousand people were trying to talk to him at once.

And then nothing but silence.

Dean blinked and looked up. Castiel lowered his fingers, dropping his arm to his side.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean could hear him perfectly. No buzzing. No funny lights smearing his vision.

"What did you do?" Dean asked.

"I trust your senses are working properly now."

Sure, his hearing and sight were tip-top, but not his poor abused back. A series of searing pains and knots trailed down his spine, and he felt like he was going to be sick.

"What was that?" Dean asked.

"Nothing to be concerned about."

Great. Cryptic as ever.

Dean pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the slight shake to his legs. The weight of the wings urged him back down, gravity tugging at the extra mass. He hadn't let them win before, and he certainly wasn't going to let them win now. With clenched teeth, Dean drew upon his inner strength and stood.

That's when he realized he wasn't in the barn with Sam anymore. The room was dim, but he could make out some details, like the rotting wooden panels, and some abandoned broken down machinery.

They were still in the country in some kind of shed or storehouse.

Dean didn't care about any of that.

"Where's Sam?"

"He remains at the barn with your hunter friend. We needed some space to talk privately."

Hunter friend? Dean didn't remember any of it. In fact, Dean was having a hard time remembering anything that had happened since the wings broke through in the alley. Sam had grabbed him, and they had left, somehow finding a barn, but that was all that was coming to him.

Behind him, the wings gave a flutter and expanded. He hated to admit the stretch felt good, and immediately his muscles unwound, becoming looser. Heat wafted off the wings, warming his raw back in soothing, comforting waves. There was an urge, more forceful than before, to just let it all go and give in. Dean wanted to give in. It felt right.

As Dean relaxed into the stretch, some of the nausea went away. A ripple of contentment washed over him, and for a moment, Dean was enough at peace to take a peek over his shoulder.

The wings had fanned out on either side, extended and full. The feathers looked longer, bigger, sharper, and it only took a second for Dean to realize the wings had nearly doubled in size.

Shock erased any feelings of contentment he'd had. Swallowing down the lunch that threatened to show itself, Dean stumbled to the wall and leaned on a rundown tractor for support.

"What the hell is happening to me?"

When he looked up, Dean noticed that Castiel was studying him and the wings in a way where Dean couldn't tell if it were awe or appreciation. Either way, he had a kind of creepy intensity that reminded Dean of stalker movies.

"Anyone teach you it's not nice to stare?"

Castiel's gaze shifted to Dean's face. "They're a remarkable creation."

"Glad someone thinks so. You're free to take 'em."

"Misplaced humor, as usual."

"Nice to see you, too. Guessing you're not here to kill me this time?"

He thought he saw Castiel flinch. "That was an unfortunate incident."

"For you, me, or Anna?"

"I came because you called."

Dean frowned. "I didn't call you."

"You did." Castiel glanced at the wings.

That was great. He was sending some kind bat signal to angels now. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

"You have many questions."

"What was your first clue, Sherlock?"

Castel let out a heavy sigh. "You know I don't understand all of your strange references." He shook his head and turned his back to Dean. "I see your wings have grown larger."

"Let's get one thing clear. They aren't mine. And how do you know? You never saw them the first time."

"I can tell."

Of course he could, which was fantastic. Nothing like having the world's least approachable angel digging into your soul on a daily basis.

"So, find anything else inside me?" Dean asked with a smirk. "What I had for breakfast? What I read this afternoon?"

"Yes." Castiel turned around to face him again, but remained impassive. "An egg sandwich with extra bacon. And you weren't reading the Playboy magazine. You were-"

"Okay, okay. We don't need the details." Dean was sorry he asked. Most of the time he couldn't tell if Cas was legitimately clueless or just had the world's weirdest sense of humor.

"You won't like what else I have to say."

The smile disappeared from Dean's face. So now it was business.

"I have been doing some research into your condition. There are some distinct patterns that I have found troubling."

Just the news Dean had been dreading. He and Sam had been doing their own research for months, trying to figure out what exactly had happened to him. They'd go back and forth with theories: some kind of transformation that happened while Dean was in Hell; some monster disease they hadn't discovered yet; angels fiddling with his body. None of them made any sense, and depending on the day, Dean found himself backing a different theory every shot. Sometimes he wondered if some freak had bitten him and changed him, while other times he swore it were the angels.

Sam didn't have a clue, though Dean knew the angels were first on his brother's hit list. Castiel had denied being part of this mess.

The sinking feeling grew in Dean's stomach. "I'm some kind a bird-thing, right?"

"You are not a bird," Castiel said. A small frown touched his face. "Why? Have you been experiencing avian impulses?"

"No." At least, he didn't think so. Dean didn't wake up every morning with the urge to eat worms or bugs or anything crawly. He didn't have the drive to fly around or preen the feathers or anything else that would make him shoot himself in the head.

"Then you are not a bird."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm afraid it's much worse."

"What the hell's worse than a bird?" Dean felt his face go cold. There was only one more possibility he could think of, and as far as he was concerned, it was far worse than a bird. "Angel. I'm a freakin' angel?"

"No, you are no more an angel than Sam is a demon."

"Okay, so then what?"

Castiel sighed. "I don't know how to say this without upsetting you more."

"Not instilling me with a whole lotta confidence."

"I was afraid of as much." He paused, and Dean had that creepy feeling Cas was studying the wings again. "The substance I gave you should have halted any further problems you're experiencing."

"The blue stuff?" Dean scowled, remembering how nasty the liquid had tasted. "That sure worked like a charm."

"It did work," Castiel said, sounding a bit defensive. "But I couldn't foresee all the different possible interactions. Though in your system, it must have had an adverse reaction to Anna's grace. This would explain why it stopped working as it should and the wings resumed their transformation."

"Okay, and so? That doesn't explain anything." In fact, it didn't explain how the hell this all started. "Just give me some more."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"What is done is done. One angel's grace reacts strongly to another's."

That didn't make any sense. So, angel grace was like oil and water. Big deal. Dean still didn't get what that had to do with him. The wing problem had gone on long before they'd met Anna. He'd been exposed to Anna's grace. So had Sam. So had angels and demons. None of them were growing extra wings.

"Cas…" He glared at the angel, noting the discomfort growing in his face. "Give it to me straight."

"It was an accident."

"Accident as in…"

"I…perhaps some of my grace transferred into you when I pulled you from Hell."

"Oh no. No, no, no."

Dean wasn't hearing this. There was no way Castiel's grace was breeding in his body, causing chaos. What did that even mean?

"I didn't realize," Castiel continued. "There is always a danger when interacting with souls in their purest form, but it was a small transfer. Insignificant."

"Insignificant my ass. I have wings!"

"I know. And I'm sorry."

Dean stared at him. "Sorry? Do you even get how much of a freak I am? These things keep popping out in public. This isn't something hunters are gonna understand."

"I am looking for an answer."

"I'll give you the answer. Yank out the grace and make me normal again."

"I can't."

"You can't or you won't?"

Castiel's expression darkened as he stepped closer. "Listen to me, Dean. Pulling you from Hell was difficult. It took our best resources to reach you. You are lucky to be here now. I would never intentionally change your genetic makeup."

Dean didn't like the sound of that. "What are we talking here? Is this permanent? Am I gonna start sprouting a beak or claws?"

"You are not a bird. Your fascination with birds is strange."

"Then explain the wings. They're real, and I don't see you packing a down pillow on your back."

"I'm not certain, but my understanding is that once in your body, my grace could only express itself under the limits of tangible form."

Dean wiped his face and shook his head. "Explain it to me like I'm five."

"I am energy, Dean. Pure energy. I am made of material that you could never see or comprehend. To have my grace in your limiting physical form…the grace has to adapt. As it creates, it also must take on tangible, physical forms. In your case, it took on the form of wings, not made of only light and energy such as mine, but also with something that suits the species of this planet. In part, it has taken on a form that you seem to associate with birds."

"Awesome."

"It seems as though exposure to Anna's grace caused my grace to become active once again, counteracting the substance I had given it to you to dampen the affects. The interaction only aggravated the metamorphosis in your body and accelerated it."

The wings twitched as if to make their point. Dean didn't need a reminder they were there.

Sawing them off was starting to become more and more attractive.

He tightened his grip on the discarded tractor. Whoever owned it or had owned obviously didn't have a sense of craftsmanship. The tractor hadn't seen use in years, and from the part of the engine that was exposed, Dean's best guess was a broken crankshaft. Shame. It was an easy fix.

Why couldn't his problem be an easy fix?

"Dean."

The wings drooped behind him as he bowed his head. There was no getting out of this. The wings weren't going away, not on their own, and the more he fought them, the stronger they became. There was no way he could keep them a secret forever. People would find out. Bobby would find out.

He couldn't believe he felt this way, but thank God his dad was dead. He never wanted his dad to see him like this.

But there was one thing he had to know for sure.

"Just level with me, Cas. Is this for keeps?"

Castiel regarded him thoughtfully. "I don't know if it is permanent or not. I am more concerned with how my grace became active the first time. It had remained dormant before some outside element activated it. I can feel a lingering presence, but have been unable to determine who or what caused your change."

Dean might be a mess, but that didn't mean he missed a beat. "You think someone intentionally did this to me?"

"Yes. I haven't discovered who, but I will find out."

Castiel's grace had been with him since he came back from Hell. Dormant. Insignificant. Whatever. The fact was someone had gone around messing with his insides to make Castiel's grace go creation station. That someone wasn't Cas. So who the hell was it?

"Who would want to make me a poser angel?"

That was the million dollar question. From the vacant look on Castiel's face, Dean knew the angel didn't know either.

"I promise you that I will find out who is responsible for your change. In the meantime, it's important that this conversation stays between us."

"And Sam."

"I'm not sure Sam is the best person to know this information."

Dean felt the wings bristle. Okay, so Sam might not be the best with truthfulness. While Dean was still pissed he'd been lying to him about using his freak powers while he was in Hell, he didn't think keeping any more secrets from Sam was the best way to go. Sam would just nag him to death anyway.

"It's Sam."

"I know. This is the same Sam who has been working with a demon for several months."

"He ditched Ruby."

Castiel said nothing.

His stomach turned. "Sam did ditch Ruby, right?"

"I'm asking you to be careful around Sam. We still don't know what Azaezal's entire plans were. You must use caution, but…but there are other reasons." Castiel turned his head, almost ashamed to look at Dean. "Heaven won't take this transgression lightly," he added under his breath.

Dean's thoughts immediately went to Anna. Uriel, and even Cas, had been militant in their pursuit in bagging her. If they had such a hate-on for a fallen angel, what would the powers that be think of Castiel's accident? Of him? Uriel was already Dean's least favorite angel, and he knew that the feeling was mutual. If Uriel and his other wackados got word of what happened, Dean had no doubt he'd be next for the hit squad.

Not only was he a freak on Earth, but also Heaven. That was perfect.

"I will handle my brothers," Castiel said, answering his unspoken question. "In the meantime, I have a favor to ask of you."

Dean straightened and released the tractor, despite the pain in his back. A favor? He should have known better. Cas never came by for a social call. There was always something. Always.

Castiel didn't give him a chance to ask.

"I have something I need for you to do."

Dean scowled. "Shocker."

Castiel sent a mildly agitated glare Dean's way before continuing. "I came to help because I wished to help. Regardless, there is a person whom we call the Watcher. I need your assistance in finding him."

"Watchers? Heaven ripping off Buffy now?

"I don't understand that reference. I am not looking for a Buffy. Just the Watcher."

"Well, have fun."

Werewolves. Sam by himself somewhere. Wings that wouldn't quit. Dean had enough on his plate than to worry about a new mission that Cas conveniently had waiting for him.

"You don't understand," Castiel said. "This person was born with the ability to mask himself. Angels and demons cannot sense this person. I need for you to locate the Watcher so I can keep the demons away."

"What's important about this Watcher?" Dean knew he would regret the question the moment he asked, but dollars to donuts he was going to get wrapped into this anyway, wings or not.

"They are neutral. Their presence will help hold the balance in this war with the demons. We can't afford to have the demons find him and tip the balance in their favor. We have already lost many of the seals." Castiel sucked in a deep breath. "I've helped you. Now it's your turn to help me."

"Is this what this is about? I'm indebted to you or something?"

Castiel's face puckered with a wounded frown. "No. No, of course not. I didn't mean it in that way."

"Sounds like you came by to dangle the truth in front of me so you can have me run your errands without getting caught."

"You know that is untrue."

"Is it?"

Castiel took a step forward, uncomfortably close, his piercing stare burrowing into Dean. "I risk myself conversing with you this way."

Dean studied Castiel's face, looking for any sign of understanding. Was he getting orders from his big bosses in Heaven? The angel was difficult to read, but there was something in his eyes, a spark that was almost human, and Dean found himself unable to disbelieve him.

He sighed. "Cas, man. You need to learn some better people skills."

"I'm trying."

Oddly enough, Dean believed him.

"This Watcher thing is a big deal, right?"

"I wouldn't ask more of you if it wasn't."

Dean gave a slight nod as he looked up to the ceiling. He was tired of this pissing contest between Heaven and Hell. Why did he and Sam have to keep getting caught in the middle of their mess?

He should say no. Refuse to do anything else. He had enough to worry about. He didn't need all this crap. Screw Heaven. God. Everything. Let the angels and demons deal with the problem themselves.

That was never going to happen.

"Since I know this'll be our problem eventually, might as well take care of it now," Dean muttered. "So how the hell do I find someone that can't be found?"

"Certain creatures are attracted to the Watcher."

"Monsters?"

Castiel nodded.

"Oh, super." Not only did they have to worry about angels and demons, now they had to deal with monsters high on supernatural catnip.

The werewolf incident suddenly made a lot more sense.

"I'll tell you one thing," Dean said, back to leaning on the tractor. "I'm finding no one with your baggage tacked onto me."

"I may be able to help you with that." Castiel waltzed right back into Dean's personal space. "But it is vital that if you experience any more changes, you call for me immediately.

Dean frowned. He didn't like how that sounded. What other changes could possible happen?

"I can handle it."

"I don't think you can."

"I did before." Dean gave the wings a little shake to prove his point. "So what if they're bigger. I got it covered. I had it covered way before you showed up."

Castiel stared at him.

Damn, Dean hated when he did that. It made him feel as small as a bug.

"Dean, this is important. Someone has activated my dormant grace in your body. You have undergone developments twice. You have begun to experience visual and auditory abilities. I cannot say what other changes might happen. We need to train you to focus to minimize your exposure."

Visual and auditory abilities. He was hearing voices? Dean went cold. The voices had to come from somewhere and he was beginning to have a sinking feeling from where. What other side effects would he experience?

"What else is going to happen to me?"

"I don't know."

"So-so…what the hell were those other wings? Training wings?"

"The changes you experience are directly related to the grace in your body. The more active and intertwined the grace is, the more changes you will experience."

"Oh, for God's sake…"

"Don't speak of the Lord that way."

Dean glared at Castiel, but kept his mouth shut. He was surprised to find the angel's face soften. Cas walked over to Dean, nearly in his face, and stared deep into his eyes. Dean leaned back, but not before Castiel placed an awkward hand on his shoulder.

"Clear your mind and relax. The wings on your back should adjust accordingly."

Dean sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He shrugged his shoulders in a semi-circle so that the tension just rolled off his back. The wings responded, airy and light, not like the heaviness he had been packing for the last few hours.

He didn't know if Cas was messing with his head or pulling some angel mojo, but he could feel the stiffness evaporating. He felt good. He felt better than good. He felt like he was floating, and part of him wanted to soar as high as he could. Dean allowed the wings to arch, stretch, and extend any way they pleased.

Dean could fall asleep right there.

"How does it feel?"

"Hmm."

A stab of pain shot through his shoulder. Dean's eyes snapped open to find Castiel digging into his arm.

"What the hell?" Dean swatted his hand away.

"I need for you to focus."

"I'm focused."

"Reach as high as you can. See them as an extension of yourself. Let the movement guide you naturally."

There was nothing natural about this entire situation. Not only that, Cas was sounding an awful lot like Sam. The wings were a fascination to the both of them, which was just awesome. With Sam, it was nothing but curiosity. With Cas…Dean squirmed under his penetrating gaze. The way Cas was studying him made him feel like he was being appraised.

Creepy.

Of course, since Dean was plum out of options, all he had was Cas. He didn't trust the angels one damn bit, but even Dean had to admit there was something different about Castiel. He tried not to think about it, mainly because it screwed up his nice view of bad, very bad, and evil in the world. Call him crazy, but Dean thought Cas actually liked coming down to chit chat even if there was a job always attached to the visit.

This whole angels and demons and seals thing was messing with his head. The sooner Dean got this under control, the sooner he and Sam could find this Watcher and hit the road.

Sam. Poor kid must be freaking out.

Dean did as he was told and spread the wings as far and wide as he could. When he looked over his shoulder, he could finally see just how much bigger these were from the first pair, how they had a sharpness that the first pair hadn't. He was packing an army of Ginsu knives. Even he had to admit that was kind of cool.

"More," Castiel instructed. "As far as you can go."

He extended them further, until the skin that covering the wing bones grew taunt. The long stretch hit all the right spots, helping to unknot the muscles in his back one by one. He could have used this technique when the first suckers had sliced through his back. If only he had the space to do this more often.

He muttered under his breath. He couldn't afford himself to think that way.

"Good. You will need to continue to practice this. The more you interact with the wings, the easier it will be for you to control them."

He didn't want to control them. He just wanted the damn things gone.

"Now, bring them down at a slow pace."

Again, Dean followed Castiel's instructions and released the wings from the long stretch. Part of him was glad Sam wasn't around to see how much of an idiot he looked like.

But he had to admit, he felt so much freer.

Dean cracked his neck and let out a contented sigh as the wings folded behind his back.

"You are doing remarkably well," Castiel admitted.

"I've had some practice. Now all I gotta do is force 'em back in."

"Forcing them is not the correct method. You need to understand they are a part of you now."

Dean glared at him. Like that was going to happen.

"The more you understand that simple truth, the easier it will be for you to avoid embarrassing situations."

Dean imagined a future where he didn't think about the wings any more than he thought about driving or walking. Would he become like that? Would that make him a monster?

Castiel must have sensed Dean's fear. He rested his hand on Dean's shoulder and studied his face in way that was both intimidating and comforting. Dean swallowed hard.

"Have a little faith, Dean. Learn to trust. Now do as I tell you, and perhaps we can tame your wings into a state best suited for your human body."

A/N: I had someone ask about me about Connor. He is indeed an original character and not in the series. Also, apologies for the slow updates. Real life is hectic.