Fine Feathers make Fine Birds...Or so they say

Chapter 1 ...Well shit, Cas!

Disclaimer: Not mine, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kirpke, though that's probably for the best because I honestly would just have Gabriel, Balthazar and Bobby come back and they would all live happily ever after... And that's not how Supernatural rolls.

Pairings: None really, but squint and you might be able to spot one.

Rating: T obviously, I mean, c'mon Dean's in this.

Because who doesn't love Cas's wings. The time when these are set will change (a LOT).

This has been done before in this fandom I know, I've read most of them :D

The first chapter isn't really a One-shot thing, more of a scene setter for the rest. After this, they'll just be random one-shots about Team Free Will dealing with two suddenly very solid wings :)

Well shit, Cas!

To Dean, the idea that Cas had wings was just one of those funny, small details that was lost in the clutter that was whatever the next impending disaster swinging their way happened to be.

He'd seen them in that barn the days following when the angel of The Lord had raised his ass from "Perdition". Well, shadows of them anyway.

Fucking terrified the life out of him too but lets not inflate the angel's pride too much my mentioning that to his face. Or out loud at all for that matter.

Still, the dark, mesmerising shapes that had appeared beneath that lightening strike had long since been pushed from his mind, what with just escaping hell and Lucifer deciding this was a fine century to take a walk. It can be argued that his mind had been rather preoccupied by more pressing thoughts.

Since then, there have been moments, usually after the angel had either just zapped in (or out) that the notion crept to the forefront of his mind. And if there wasn't something immediately trying to eat him or possess him or other dramas he needed to sort out, then occasionally, he would entertain the image of the Angel of Thursday with his wings. It never lasted more than a few moments, being brushed off as one of those things that didn't really exist. Because Castiel had said that his true form would melt his eyes out of his head, not the angel's exact words granted, but the point still stands. So Dean had never believed that he would ever see them as actual wings, besides those extremely rare, hair-raising moments when the shadows would appear for half a second under intense flashes of light.

And to Dean, that was just something else he had been told about angels in his youth that was a lie. The main one being of course that angel's were something other than Dicks. But, Dean was a Winchester, him ever expecting anything else was almost laughable. He had accepted this wing thing as a shadow deal only and was totally fine with that.

So... having a massive, solid, freakin' feathered wall, smash him in the jaw, was a bit of a shock and very, very, oh so very painful.

The shock apparently wasn't limited to Dean.

The hunt had been normal enough.

Witch, (because they're always fun), causing some issues not too far from Albuquerque, New Mexico. Nothing major. No deaths, no major injuries, just a few spells drawing enough attention that Team Free Will had decided to check on it as they passed through on their way to check in with Bobby.

Hell, Castiel wasn't even really supposed to be there. He certainly wasn't needed. But, the Winchesters had grown fond of their (not Dean's!) angel, and they had used the weak excuse that the angel needed to have more time to develop his "people skills", to entice him along. Not that the angel minded, the Winchesters were almost always a welcome relief compared to whatever else he usually had to do at the time. This was no exception.

They'd traced the witch to an abandoned building that looked as if it might once have been a bar, it was hard to tell with the gutted interior and cobweb covered signs. Darkness had fallen by then and they (mainly Sam, because to Dean all witches are a nightmare) hadn't even decided whether or not they were even going to kill the witch or just threaten it.

Again, it should be noted that the this is the Winchesters. Expecting a good ending is just a waste of good will power. And, if nothing else, monumentally stupid.

The Witch was at least three states away by the time they even arrived at the derelict building, but that doesn't mean it was wholly empty of witchcraft either.

This invariably leads back to Dean's current predicament. Staring through the dim light of the musty old building from his new place on the floor, bruised and all, gaping at the angel.

"...Well shit, Cas!"

The angel was standing, just. Half bent over with the sudden, shocking extra weight and was panting endlessly, bright blue eyes wide open in complete and unbridled astonishment.

The fact that so much emotion was glaringly obvious on the usually stoic supernatural being usually would have drawn the Winchester's attention, but the things attached to that being's back dwarfed that unusual occurrence with no competition.

For one, they were freakin' enormous!

Splayed unevenly out to the sides from where they had exploded from his shoulder blades, the tips of the huge flight feathers were being forced to curl and bend to fit the suddenly very cage-like space. Not to mention the fact they were Black.

Okay, the shadows had been black. But that's generally the colour of shadows.

Another lie proven false, though he had to admit, this was one of the most bad-ass things he had ever seen. And now that he was seeing it for himself, these black wings look far more awesome than any of those stupidly bright white ones that those prissy paintings show. But maybe he was a little bias, or just better informed.

The second of silence through which all of these thoughts had passed through Dean's head seemed to occurr in painfully slow motion, and now, time seemed to snap violently back into real time.

The angel took a staggering step forward, breathing ragged and heavy. His wings flaring a little at the change in balance. The sudden, very solid, shift in the wings' weight had Castiel stumble.

Sam, momentarily forgotten by the elder Winchester, had escaped the immediate explosion of the two ebony limbs and stayed on his feet. Snapping from his trance, the younger brother rushed forwards to steady the angel.

Dean wobbled to his feet, moving forwards once there to aid his brother.

Before he could even get close, Castiel startled all of them, himself included. As Sam reached for his shoulder, a flash of panic bloomed across Castiel's face and he instinctively jerked backwards. His wings rushed forwards with a gust that would put a small hurricane to shame and came up as a defensive, sweeping wall.

The movement caught Sam across the chest, giving him a free ride across the room on an altogether different form of "Angel Airways". Even Dean, who was much further away didn't have enough time to completely duck the sweeping movement, though he did manage to keep to his feet.

"Ow! Damnit Cas!" Dean growled the same moment that Sam gave a resounding groan from the floor thirty metres or so away. "What the Hell!"

The angel turned, a rare display of desperation on his face as he moved, "Dean! I-"

Whack

Dean coughed from the floor. Well, damn. The angel's wings had turned with him. Bruise number three from angel wings... Check.

"Castiel! Stop!" The angel froze at Sam's voice, halting mid-turn from turning to look at the younger Winchester. "Just... Easy" he was waving his hands in a placating manner and approaching the winged creature like one would a wild animal that could quite easily tear your head off.

Castiel's eyes would have hardened at the patronising notion if his panic wasn't ricocheting through him like bullets from the brothers' hand guns. Hell, his wings were practically vibrating with the angel equivalent of a spiking adrenaline rush because this just shouldn't be happening!

Dean had approached by now, reaching Sam who was suddenly much closer than before.

Castiel took a step away, wings and balance flailing unevenly and both brothers jumped back a pace.

"Cas. Chill out dude." Dean's words, although rough and slightly panicked, were a softening comfort to the angel's fraying nerves, and his wings seemed to settle minutely at the sound. "Can you... I don't know, just... Sit down or something?"

Sam nodded fiercely, eager to avoid another wing smash to the ribs because damn that hurts. Their friend was obviously freaking out as badly as they were, and by the rapid, jerky movements of the new limbs, Sam realised that this had never happened to him before. "That witch is long gone, just...calm down yeah?"

Hesitantly, Castiel dropped down to one knee, wings naturally rising and spreading to give balance, though the foreign new weight of them at all off-set this somewhat. It was like an animal learning how to walk again after loosing a limb, the sudden loss, or gain in this case, of weight was playing havoc with his balance. Painfully slowly, he moved to sit cross-legged on the, now that he was looking, absolutely filthy, old floor. The weight was tugging sharply at his shoulders and he leant forwards, the feeling that followed the movement was both gratefully natural and terrifyingly foreign.

The two brothers hedged closer, the wings tensing as they approached, each far bigger than even gigantor Sam. The dim light reflected off of the feathers, and the naturally oily black, shimmering colours gained a soft orange highlight, and it was a sharp reminder to both Winchesters just what the hell their third team member actually was.

A fucking angel of The Lord, black wings and all.

"I find myself sharing your disdain for witches Dean" Castiel managed tightly, strain of the situation clear in his gravelly voice.

Despite himself, Dean burst out laughing, because Damn this wasn't funny! "Bitches, the lot of them." Edging closer, the elder hunter dropped down in front of the angel. The heavy breaths coming from the angel were far calmer than the ragged gasps from earlier, and even the new wings seemed more settled, leaving the brothers a little less wary.

Castiel's gaze held Dean's for a few moments, taking solace in the steady, all too familiar green that he found there and allowed himself a few more calming breaths. The staring was, rather thankfully from Sam's point of view, broken quickly as Dean couldn't restrain himself from another look at the wings now filling a large portion of the room.

Dean traced the joints of the left wing with his eyes, taking in every small ridge and groove each feather and the way the dull orange light seemed to set the edges of the wings on fire. The black of the wings wasn't wholesome, it shimmered like a pool of oil resting on water, reaching occasional shades of green and stunning blues that moved with every breath that Castiel took.

Castiel himself shifted a little under the entranced gaze of the elder Winchester, Sam's expression mirrored his brothers and there was nothing he could do to avoid it without the risk of hurting one of them. In his true form, wings were a part of him, there generally wasn't any staring in Heaven because everyone has wings in heaven. That would be like humans staring at each others arms. And now, suddenly manifested against his will and a tremendous new strain on Jimmy, the staring was embarrassing and, by angel standards at least, a little rude. Humans though, he reasoned, have never seen them before, of course they would stare.

That didn't make it any more or less bearable.

Thankfully, something else eventually captured Sam's attention, it's not like Castiel's wings were all that special anyway, what with the small frays from his venture into hell and millions of years of being a warrior. The angel was grateful for the change.

Dean's enthrallment wasn't so easily moved, "Damn, Cas, that's awesome." His hand moved of it's own accord, the sudden desire to know what the feathers felt like echoing through him like a demand. The wings twitched away from the curious fingers, and as Dean turned to look back to the angel's face, Sam began waving a piece of paper under their noses.

"Dude, the witch left us a message about this curse...trap...thing"

Holding it so the other two could read it, Sam crouched down beside them.

Hello Boys

I guess you could say your reputation proceeds you.

And, I have to say, you're not someone I want on my ass. So, here's the thing, that curse of yours will wear off in a week or three. Here's the catch though, you come after me again, I'll summon every demon I get my hands on and send them your way.

Lets see you boys handle those when your wing man's got...well, you don't need me to finish this pun do you?

Seriously though, I don't want any trouble with you guys, leave me alone and your angel will be back to normal in no time.

See ya around Boys

Re-reading the small note twice, Dean groaned miserably, managing to summon up every ounce of contempt that all three were spewing in only two words.

"Fucking Witches!"

AN – I'm open to prompts guys for One-shots ;P although I already have a few