Chapter Text
The witch was running, but it wouldn't get far.
Dean sprinted through the warehouse (why the fuck was it always a warehouse?) Sam hot on his heels. He had no idea where Cas had got to, probably dealing with the rest of the coven, but this one was the one they needed, she had the book. They thundered through the jumbled space, Dean shooting bullet after fruitless bullet at the woman, but he couldn't seem to catch her. If he could say one thing for the bitch, she could certainly run. She bobbed and weaved behind boxes and shelves, occasionally yelling spells back behind her that he was only just dodging. She must be getting them from the book, no one knew ancient Enochian off by heart like that (at, least, he really hoped not.)
Dean had known from the very start that this case would cause them trouble, but he hadn't known quite how much. It had been a normal day in the bunker, Sam sifting for cases and Dean attempting to read some stuffy lore text that had been among the stuff Bobby had left. Even years later they were still going through the old mans stuff. Dean might have called him a hoarder, if it hadn't saved their asses from time to time. But their quiet existence was to be disrupted again, in the form of one blue-eyed, trench-coated angel. He had brought the news that a coven of amateur witches had got their hands on one of the ancient Enochian spell books, from the time of Babel when man still spoke the angels language. 'Ozazm vpaah zomd', or 'Transcendence of Man'. Pretentious fucking title in Dean's opinion, but it was powerful, and deadly even in incompetent hands, so of course the winged douchebags had managed to lose it.
So they'd rushed off to South Dakota to chase down said witches, coming face to face with them in the basement of an abandoned industrial building. They'd scattered, leaving their (surprisingly powerful) leader with the book, and she had taken off up here. Which had led them to this, yet another high speed chase. Dean was getting too old for this crap.
They careened around a final bend and found her searching frantically for an exit. There was nowhere to go, they were on the top floor of this crumbling place, so unless she had a broomstick lodged up her ass, they had her. But apparently, Hermione Granger had other ideas. She rounded on them both, snarling, and raised a hand, pointing it straight at Dean and reading from the ancient tome.
"Ozazma coremech perozaht. Norzhip zong omicazla quare"
A blast of power ripped through the room, so potent it shook the building to its very foundations. Dean went flying, landing across the room with a dull thud. through the haze of pain that followed, he watched as she spun to Sam, rallying her strength once more, but he was quicker, and those witch killing bullets worked wonders. A shot rang out and she fell in a crumpled heap, book falling from her grasp to land innocuously beside the still-twitching body. There was silence, strange after the chaos of the last few minutes, and Sam came towards him looking concerned.
"Hey, you alright? what did she hit you with?"
"Nah I'm good. No idea, but I doubt she had the juice to get it working right." he waved away Sam's offered hand and stood, shaking his head to clear it of the brain fog. He should really stop going headfirst into walls, one day it was gonna cause serious damage. Not today though, today he was-
"Dean?"
He'd crumpled back to the floor with a low groan as a new pain, white hot and sharp, had arced across his back on both sides. It burned, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It was as if something was forcing its way up from some space within him, up and up and out. Sam was beside him now, shaking him.
"Dean!"
"I take it back. Whatever Wanda over there zapped me with definitely did work."
"What do we do?"
"I don't fucking know! Get Cas, he should be able to identify the curse if nothing else."
But there was no need, he was there, as he always was when Dean needed him most. Vaguely, he could hear Sam explaining, could hear Cas' terse responses. The pain was clouding his senses now, but he looked up, trying to focus on them. Cas was staring at the book, at the page Sam was indicating with a grave expression.
"I think it was that one, 'Zimii noasmi'. What did she do to him Cas?"
"Yeah, good question. Am I dying or what?" it was meant to be a joke, but it fell spectacularly flat as another wave of pain broke over his back and he hissed. But the angel was just staring at him now. Hard to read on the best of days, even for Dean, right now Cas' expression was downright unfathomable, and when he spoke, his voice carried a note of wonder that was both unexpected and unnerving.
"The translation would be 'Soul song'. But its just a story... I didn't think..."
"Soul what? Cas cut the bullshit right now. What's going on."
"Not here. We need to get somewhere quiet. You're not in any danger, not exactly anyway..."
Sam, ever the pragmatist, cut in "Its five hours back to the bunker, you saying we should go home?"
"No, the transformation wont wait five hours. We need open air, a natural environment. There's a park close by, Lake Andes I think its called, that should be good enough."
"Transformation? Cas, what the hell?!"
"I'll explain on the road, we don't have time." He tucked the spell book away in on of his many pockets, hauled Dean to his feet, and practically carried him back through the warehouse, ignoring Sam's increasingly confused questions. Dean didn't have it in him to argue, he wasnt in any state to be wandering around on his own, it totally wasn't because a part of him liked how easily Cas could support him. Totally.
However, he was true to his word, and once they were hauling ass down route-18, Cas turned too look at Dean, who had (for once) taken the backseat at Sam's insistence. He was met with a thoroughly unimpressed expression from Dean.
"You better start talking buddy."
"Well." The angel seemed to be struggling with where to start, but Dean sure as shit wasn't gonna help him.
"Angels do not possess souls, not in the sense that humans do. We have our grace, which is our power, and we have our sense of self, our 'soul' if you will." Whatever Dean had been expecting to come out of Cas' mouth, that certainly wasn't it. He just stared blankly at him, and Cas took that as permission to continue. "We can manifest these parts of us in a physical form, as wings, and often they are used for other means than just decoration. They reflect our innermost self, but they can also be used, weaponised."
"Not to interrupt what I'm sure is a fascinating lecture on angel psychology, but where are you going with this? What does this have to do with me being zapped back there?"
"If you'd let me speak, I'm getting to that." Cas snapped, and Dean fell silent at once, because Cas was a little hot intimidating when he talked like that.
"We can manifest the part of us that holds the soul. But humans cannot. However, this does not mean that you don't have the potential to. You just need the right kind of nudge. Millenia ago, when the Tower of Babel still stood, it was rumoured that the angels had worked with the highest scholars to give them this gift, perfect a spell that would cause you to manifest your soul as we do. That spell was lost along with the rest when Babel fell, and its been a myth ever since. Its a story we tell to fledgelings, the Soul Song. I never thought it was real."
"So, what are you saying?"
"What I'm saying, Dean, that you have been nudged. Its a good job that witch had enough latent potential to pull it off, that spell can go horribly wrong. But it hasn't, everything is progressing as the book dictates."
"You're kidding. That fucking spell is gonna make me half bird?!"
"However you want to word it, yes. You are going to manifest wings, and there isn't much point fighting it, the spell is irreversible as far as I can tell."
Fan. Friggin. Tastic.
By the time they reached the park, the pain in Dean's back had dulled to a low ache, as if it was waiting. They stepped out, and if he'd been in a more appreciative mood he might have noticed how nice a spot it was. Lake Andes wasnt all that big, but it was peaceful. The banks were littered with signs of animal life, small burrows and rustling undergrowth. The trees around them hid them effectively from any would be fishermen or day trippers, but there was no need, there wasn't another human in sight.
Cas looked satisfied at any rate, this apparently suited their needs nicely.
"Okay Dean, come here."
Dean obeyed, following him into the centre of the small clearing overlooking the tranquil water. Sam hung back, obviously wary. Dean couldn't blame him, but if Cas said he wasnt in danger, then that was good enough for him. Probably.
"So... what now?"
"Now, we wait. This process is meant to take roughly an hour from its casting. How do you feel?"
"Like shit, how'd you think I feel? One moment I'm fighting a witch and the next you're telling me I'm about to hold a strong resemblance to Daffy fucking duck!"
Cas didn't seem to take the outburst personally. The bastard never did. Not the least bit vindicated, Dean began to pace, kicking up clouds of dust where he stepped. It was unseasonably hot for April, and he could feel his clothes clinging to him. Maybe he shouldn't have worn so many layers. He shrugged of his jacket, then his flannel, leaving him in just the plain grey t-shirt, but it didn't seem to help. Strangely, Sam seemed fine, and was now watching him with concern. He ignored it. There was silence apart from a motor humming far out on the lake, the faint rustling of tree branches, and the scuffing of his boots. After what felt like forever, he spun to Cas, thoroughly fed up now.
"Dude, we've been here for ages, maybe you got it wrong or-"
He never got to finish that sentence. In a feat of dramatic irony that had Dean questioning just how closely Chuck was watching them, the pain in his back spiked to such a level as it hadn't before. He doubled over, swearing colourfully, but it didn't let up this time. It was building steadily now, forcing its way out of him like that one scene in alien which had given him nightmares for weeks as a kid. He dropped to his knees, curling in on himself like that might protect him. There was a ripping noise, the world spun in and out of focus as the agony in his back peaked, and then...
And then it was gone, just like that. In its place was a weight at his back, so new and yet so familiar. When he dared to open his eyes, he realised he couldn't see Cas, or Sam, or the little clearing. Obscuring his view were walls of feathers, wrapped around him like a shield. It occurred to him then that the tearing sound he had heard seconds ago was most likely his shirt, as there were two massive holes in it now where the wings protruded. Good thing he'd taken of his flannel then, it was his favourite.
They weren't black like he knew Cas' were, or white like Lucifers. They were brown. Deeper towards the ends, lighter near the base, where they met his shoulder blades, and dappled all over with spots of darker brown, almost like his freckles. The undersides however, were of a vibrant gold, so pure and bright that it shocked him. This, this was what his soul looked like? Maybe Cas had been spitting some bullshit back there in the car. He'd been to hell, for fucks sake, they should be dark, broken like he was. This didn't make any sense.
"Dean?"
He'd been quiet too long, the others were getting worried. He wasnt quite sure how to... but there. They'd moved like any other limb, it was easy, surprisingly so. They unfurled, folding neatly behind him, and he stood up, turning to face them. Sam was just staring, mouth hanging slightly open, concern warring with awe on his face. Dean tried not to read Cas' look, because he was a fucking coward. Instead, he focused on his brother.
"Sammy." he clicked his fingers in front of Sam's slackened jaw for good measure. "Anyone in there?"
"Uhh, yeah sorry. That's just, wow. Are you alright?"
"Pains gone, so yeah. How do I look? Reckon I'll still be able to pull chicks?"
"Of course that's your main concern. And you look fine, just kinda, bird-like."
"Bird like, that's the best you could come up with? You went to college man, you should be a walking thesaurus."
"Oh shut up bitch."
"Jerk."
There it was, that familiarity. He could manage this, get through this, just so long as he had Sam. All he needed was his brother, and maybe one other thing. So he told himself to man the fuck up and finally looked at Cas.
"So? Second opinion from the other guy with wings. Be honest, how do I look."
Be honest. Stupid fucking thing too say to the guy with no verbal filter.
"They are beautiful. Truly. The most intricate pair I have ever seen, and they reflect your soul perfectly."
And now he was blushing, and looking away, because apparently Castiel still had the ability to reduce Dean back to a fumbling teenager with a couple words.
"Well, thanks. Are we going home or what? I'm tired." smooth subject change Dean, they totally didn't see that one. Luckily Sam saved him by agreeing, and they all began walking back to the impala.
"Cas, I cant really get in the car like this. How'd you put yours away?"
"Oh. I don't really think about it to be honest, I just will them away. They're still there, just folded up on another plane of existence."
"Like that's the most simple thing in the world." Dean scoffed. "Fine, I'll try it." and apparently, it was that easy. He need only to think about it and they were gone, from sight at least. Their warm weight was still at his back, comforting in a strange way. Cas nodded approvingly, and he felt pretty goddamn proud. Maybe this was manageable after all.