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If I Had the Wings of an Angel

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Sam stood outside the entrance to Disneyworld and scratched an itchy spot on his right shoulder blade. "This is kinda unbelievable," he said to Dean with a warm, happy smile. "You really want to do this with me?"

Dean fought off the urge to roll his eyes and twitch. Did he want to go to Disneyworld? Never in his life, but Sam needed a break and his smile told Dean this was the right decision. Clapping his brother on the back, Dean propelled him forward to the entrance.

Sam grinned, throwing his arm over Dean's shoulders. "Do I even want to know where you got the money for this?" he teased as they got behind a family of about fifteen.

"No, Sam, you really don't." Not that it was any worse than one of his regular credit card frauds, but that didn't need mentioning while Sam was happy. The line moved quickly and Dean hummed softly. He hated waiting around, but he'd do anything for Sam.

"Are you humming 'When You Wish Upon a Star'?" Sam asked with an amused smile. He bounced on his toes, eager to get inside, even as his shoulder blades began to itch again. They'd been red and irritated since he woke up, but he refused to let them ruin his birthday gift.

Dean flushed slightly and stopped humming, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "Maybe?" he responded, before patting Sam on the shoulder and then tucking both hands into his pockets. "So, what do you want to do first?"

"Space Mountain and then the Matterhorn. Or maybe Star Tours..." Sam scratched his mop of hair. "No, we should go around the park on the Disneyworld Limited!" He looked at Dean, blushed and then looked at his feet. "I might have spent awhile looking up stuff."

Knocking Sam's shoulder so his brother toppled sideways a bit, Dean cackled at Sam. His eyes twinkled with merriment, and Dean said, “Figured you would, ya big dork. Whatever you want, Sammy. It's your birthday."

Sam lifted his still blushing face and smiled at Dean. "I want you to have fun, too, Dean. I know this isn't your kind of thing, but it means a lot that you brought me. And that's all the chick flicking I'll do, promise!" He made the boy scout sign with his fingers and then scratched his shoulder blades again. "Any rides you want to go on?"

"Indiana Jones," Dean piped up at once. "Really, anything'll be fun, Sam. If I didn't want to be here, I never would have set it up for your birthday. Why do you keep scratching?"

"Oh, I don't know," Sam said, dropping his hand. "My shoulder blades are irritated. It's nothing." He bounced on his toes again. "Yeah, Adventureland sounds awesome. We have to do the Jungle Cruise, but no being sarcastic with the guides, Dean."

"I'm not promising anything, Sam." Of course, Dean planned to ruffle the guides up, especially since Sam planted the idea in his head. "The whole place looks like your kinda deal, Sammy. I was thinking that we ought to get some of the fast passes for things we really wanted to ride."

They were one away from the ticket windows, and Sam turned a goofy grin at Dean. "Fast passes? Has someone been stealing my laptop when I wasn’t looking?"

"I had to do some research when I was buying the tickets, didn't I?" Dean nudged Sam forward when it was his turn, grinning behind his brother's back before he took his turn to hand over his ticket and move through the turnstile.

Sam grabbed Dean by the forearm and dragged him past the employees taking people’s photographs, through the gates and on to Main Street. He stopped at the beginning of the sidewalk and just looked around. "Awesome! Look at the detail they put into everything!" Sam dragged Dean toward the steps up to the trains and steered him into line. Opening the map, he perused, making a plan for the day and nudging Dean forward when the line moved. "Did you really make reservations at the Blue Bayou?"

Dean watched the crowd, looking far more relaxed and at ease than he felt. Large crowds set him on edge, but he kept repeating that it was for Sam. "What? Oh, uh yeah, just in case you wanted to eat at the fancy place. I know you like that sometimes." He blushed slightly, hunching his shoulders when Sam nudged him forward again.

Sam rubbed Dean's back a little, sensing the tension there. "The real fun of the place is supposed to be the atmosphere, though the food is also supposed to be good. But the dining room is inside the Pirates of the Caribbean, so that's gotta be awesome." He watched as a train entered the station, and they moved forward again. "We'll be on the next one."

Leaning into Sam's hand, Dean smiled at him. "Yeah, I read the stuff when I looked at the website. We could maybe take a run through Pirates before and after. Since we'll be right there."

"Before and after?" Sam said with a snort. "I knew you had a crush on Depp."

Dean flushed bright red and shoved Sam forward in lieu of answering. He followed his brother onto the train and dropped into the seat next to him, crowding Sam and generally being a pain-in-the-butt older brother.

Sam firmly shoved Dean away and then scratched his shoulders against the bars on the back of the seat. "We're going all the way round first. I want to see the Primeval world." They had chosen seats in the back, facing outward, due to their heights.

"You really are the geekiest boy I know, Sammy." Dean frowned when Sam scratched at his back again. "Dude, you want me to look at your shoulders? Make sure there's nothing there?"

Sam looked around the crowded car. "Maybe when we get off," he said, not wanting Dean examining his back around a bunch of families. They might get the wrong idea. "They are awful itchy."

"Yeah, okay. I swear I didn't put any itching powder in your clothes. You're supposed to enjoy today." Dean frowned at the thought of something spoiling Sam's fun.

"They’ve got to have some lotion or something we can put on it, make them less itchy," Sam said, as the train jolted forward. "Besides, nothing is going to ruin today for me." He beamed at a little girl, who was staring up at him with awe.

Dean followed Sam's gaze, smiling at the little girl as well before looking out when the train started on its path. "So what is this train ride about, anyway?"

"It's a tour of the Magic Kingdom, doofus," Sam said. "A brief look at all the different lands, plus a special primeval world and Grand Canyon section. Those are old school." He draped an arm over Dean comfortably.

Leaning into Sam, Dean smiled at him and then pinched him hard on the inner thigh.  He looked over the sights and enjoyed just being with his brother, nothing pressing in on them. Once they walked back out of the gates, everything would be back on their shoulders.

Sam winced slightly at the pinch, but refused to give his brother any other satisfaction.  However, he was amused by where Dean chose to pinch.  He thought Dean was a bit more handsy lately and put it all down to the tough times jacking up his brother's already intense protective nature. 

They passed by a fake moose in Frontierland, and Sam elbowed Dean and said, "Hey, looks like the girl you picked up two nights ago followed you here."

Unable to stop a snort, Dean pretended to glare daggers at Sam.  He looked at Sam from the corner of his eye, satisfied with the happiness he saw.

Sam laughed a little at Dean's expression and then bumped his shoulder comfortably.  "What gave you the idea for this, anyway?"  They rattled to a stop at New Orleans Square, and Sam looked with amusement at the Haunted Mansion.  "I wonder if there are any ghosts around here."

"Don't even joke, Sammy.  We're taking the day off."  Dean scoffed a bit at the sight of the Haunted Mansion, the mockery of ghosts not something he was interested in.  "The place looks a bit like New Orleans, but in a plastic kinda way."

"Dude, all we saw of New Orleans was a few crumbling houses and the cheapest-ass bars," Sam said with a snort.  "And we're going on the Haunted Mansion.  You can hide your face in my shirt if it gets too scary for you."  The train pulled away with a rattle, heading for Toon Town.

"Aw, is big ol' Sammy gonna protect me?" Dean asked in a weird half-falsetto voice.  Scoffing again, he elbowed Sam in the ribs.  "I've been to New Orleans other times, you know."

Sam grabbed Dean, careful of the people next to him, and held him close, like a frightened child.  "I won't let any of the big, bad ghosties get you, Deanie.  I promise." 

Unable to stop the snort again, Dean shook his head at Sam and batted at his hands to make him let go.  Not that Dean minded, but he had to keep up appearances.

Sam grinned wide at the teenager girls staring at them from the bench over, mouths wide open.  He tipped them a wink, which made all three blush and look away, before releasing Dean.  "Now, honey," he drawled at his brother, "no need to get so rough."

"You call me honey again, and I'll show you rough," Dean growled, eyes narrowed at Sam.  He settled back onto the bench, looking out as they approached Toon Town.  It was such a startling difference from New Orleans Square that Dean laughed at the cartoonish world.

Sam pretended to quail and poked Dean in the side. He grinned at Toon Town and said, "We'll have to come here later. You need to meet Minnie Mouse and get a big hug from Mickey." His face twisted into a grimace, and he itched himself vigorously against the back of the train. "Damn."

"Stop that." Dean poked Sam in the side. "I am not hugging the characters, Sammy. But I'll get pictures of you with them, if you really want."

Sam lit up like a little kid, even though his shoulders itched more fiercely than ever. "Seriously? I want pictures with them all, then!" He pulled out his guide and began to calculate when they would have to be where to hit all the character sessions.

Dean tilted his head back on a laugh and nudged Sam to look at the next stop on the train. He'd never realized just how much of a little kid Sam still could be, and Dean was having a blast.

"Tomorrowland," Sam said with satisfaction and pointed at the Autopia. "I will kick your ass in a race in those cars," he said. "If I can fit in one."

"I hardly think so, Sammy. I always kick your ass in car races." Dean grinned and shifted on the seat, leaning forward for a better look at Tomorrowland. "Isn't this where the Star Wars ride thing is?"

"And Space Mountain, which is the best ride here, so I've heard." Sam nudged Dean as the train started again. "We'll be going through the primeval world soon. I expect to see some of your other girls in there."

"Yeah, Space Mountain is definitely on the list." Dean glared at Sam and smacked him. "You really need to leave the dead jokes alone, dude. It’s getting you nowhere."

Sam lifted his eyebrow and smirked, a dead ringer for one of Dean's. "You mean that girl you prattled on to me about a few weeks ago wasn't really an animal?" They entered the tunnel before Dean could reply and the music for the Grand Canyon came on. Sam watched the old fashioned vistas go by, grinning from ear to ear.

Waiting until they exited the tunnel, Dean leaned in close to Sam, making sure his voice didn't carry. "She was an animal, all right, just not like you'll find in the primeval world. She was more of a safari-type animal." Dean settled back with a self-satisfied smirk firmly in place.

"Like the stegosaurus," Sam said with satisfaction, still on a high from dinosaurs. The old-fashioned animatronics models were not realistic, but they were still awesome. The train pulled to a halt at Main Street again, and Sam hauled Dean off. "I guess we better hit the bathroom and check out my back."

"Yeah, I don't like how you're scratching." Dean followed behind Sam, hand alternating between his lower back and hovering over Sam's shoulders. He didn't want to touch in case he still itched. "Does your trusty map tell us where to find a bathroom?"

"There's one by the firehouse on our right," Sam said. "We're going to look awkward slipping into a stall together... unless you want to do it in the open air?"

Dean laughed. "Like I care what anyone thinks. But since it is a family place, we should probably check it out in the open." The last thing they needed was to be arrested for doing something 'lewd' at Disneyworld, regardless of what they were actually doing.

Sam nodded and fidgeted a little. "What if it's related to my being... a freak?" he asked, voice low.

"Then we disappear into a stall to check it out, Sam." Dean shrugged, but really hoped that it was just a rash or something they could handle easily.

Sam nodded and walked into the men's room. He found a mostly deserted corner and tugged all his shirts off so Dean could examine his back. "What does it look like?"

Scanning Sam's back, Dean didn't let his gaze linger, though he was tempted. Instead, he took a close look at Sam's shoulders. "Your shoulders are really red, Sam, irritated. It almost looks like a sunburn that’s going to start peeling." Dean tilted his head and traced a finger over the shiny skin. "Looks like you need some lotion or something on it."

Sam groaned softly as Dean's fingers traced the skin and rubbed against them. "Feels really weird. Maybe an allergic reaction to the crap they used to clean the sheets at the motel we stayed in last night." Sam tugged the shirts back down. "We better see if we can get something to put on it. The fire station has first aid."

"Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. We'll see if they have something there or something we can buy." Dean stepped back, enough to give Sam room to get his shirts on, but not enough to be out of his personal space. "Are you sure you're okay, Sam?"

"Well, I'd prefer not to have my shoulders itch like I have poison ivy, but... yeah. It's just a rash, Dean. I've had a lot worse." Sam smiled reassuringly at Dean and headed for the exit. He turned left and went up the steps of the firehouse and into the foyer. Without delay, he headed for one of the smiling attendants at the windows and asked if they had any treatment for a rash. She nodded and got him a small kit that had some lotion for rashes. She told him to see the nurse if they wanted anything stronger, and Sam went back to Dean. "Here, rub this over them. The kit has pain killers, too."

Dean looked at the kit and then at Sam. "Yeah, okay. Have a seat, and I'll get this on your shoulders. We don't need to go back to the bathroom."

Sam sat on a bench, twisting so Dean could access his back. "This is kind of embarrassing." He leaned his arms on his knees, pouting slightly at having to suffer on his birthday. Couldn't he get one day off?

Chuckling, Dean squeezed a large dollop on his fingers and then slowly smoothed it over Sam's shoulders. He concentrated primarily on the reddened spot, but also spread the lotion out toward the edges. "There've been more embarrassing things than this, Sammy."

Sam sighed and then moaned softly, enjoying both the relief and the feel of Dean's fingers on his skin. "That feels better already," he said with a relieved sigh. "Guess you better be prepared to do a lot of that."

"Yeah, Sammy, as much as you need." Dean smiled at Sam, capping the lotion and then ruffling his brother's hair.

Sam stood and bashed Dean gently in the arm. "Ok, let's walk down Main Street and head for the rest of Disney!"


They stood in line for Space Mountain, behind a group of snogging, giggling teenagers and in front of a mother trying to herd four raucous little boys. Sam leaned against the wall, watching the teenagers in front of him with something bordering on envy. He never got to be so free as a teen, his father, hunting, Dean and the Future always weighing too heavily on his mind. Especially the Future.

Dean rocked back on his heels and then forward, hands shoved into his pockets. Silence between them was generally relaxed, but he was getting edgy waiting in line. "You good, Sammy?" he asked.

Sam's expression changed from wistful to happy in an instant. "Yeah, man. This is awesome. Even standing here in line forever is awesome. I loved Star Tours." He pressed a hand against Dean's side in thanks. "Even my shoulder blades aren't bothering me right now."

"Good." Dean leaned into Sam's hand, smiling at him before moving forward with the line. "Star Tours rocked. Too bad there's so much to see that going back for seconds doesn't make sense."

Sam nodded and sighed. "I wish we had more time, but I'm glad just for this." They moved forward again, and Sam snickered at the cheesy music videos that were played to keep them entertained. "Are you having fun, too?"

"Yeah. I'm having fun with you, Sammy." Dean sighed and rolled his shoulders. "Not digging these long lines, though. I thought fast passes cut this part out."

"You can only hold one at a time, and you wanted to be sure we got on Indy," Sam said with a soft laugh. "Besides, I don't really mind. It's nice to stand still for once.”

Dean grumbled, or pretended to, when Sam pointed out his desire to get on Indiana Jones. "Yeah, I guess it is... and if you're happy, I'll stop complaining."

Sam pushed at Dean slightly. "If you weren't complaining, you wouldn't be you," he said. "And you’re the one I want to share my birthday with-- arrogance, sarcasm, bad attitude and all." They walked down a ramp and entered the main room, where they could see the cars load and unload.

"It's about damn time. Almost there." Dean ignored the digs, but preened inside at the knowledge that Sam would rather be with him than anyone else. Dean knew Sam didn't mean it the way Dean wanted him to, but he would take what he could get.

Sam peered over the edge to watch the cars being loaded. "I want to go in the front car." He frowned at their length. "I hope my legs fit."

"I bet they'll only fit in the front, Sasquatch that you are." Dean bumped Sam's shoulder companionably. "It may be the way to get that spot."

Sam smirked at Dean. "You're just jealous that I got the tall genes." They walked down the platform, and Sam pulled them into the line for the front row. A blonde in the row next to them smiled at Dean, eyelashes fluttering, and Sam shoved down the rush of jealousy.

Dean stopped in the line with Sam, bumping him hard for the tall comment. He easily remembered times when he towered over Sam. "It's not exactly like I'm short, Sammy." Catching the girl's eye, Dean smiled at her, but turned back to his brother.

"You were always the one I looked up to," Sam said. "Until my sixteenth birthday, when I finally looked down a little. But only physically." They got to the front, and Sam bounced eagerly on his toes.

"Yeah and you didn't stop laughing about edging me out in height for at least six months." Dean chuckled at the way Sam vibrated with energy and excitement. "You gonna hold it together, Sam?"

Sam snorted and marched to the open car when it pulled up. He ended up with his knees tucked, but managed to be semi-comfortable. Grinning as Dean joined him, Sam said, "I'll bet you scream louder than I do."

Laughing, Dean shook his head. "You're on. There's no way I'm yelling louder than you." He wriggled into his seat, squashed in a way that only two grown men over six feet tall can be when stuffed into a ride together.

Sam bumped Dean's shoulders just sitting in the seat, so when they started to move, they practically crashed into each other. Once the coaster got to the top of the track, Sam lifted his arms in the air with a triumphant shout, and they went over the edge into the blackness below.

Dean laughed triumphantly, arms raising over his head to match Sam's. He tipped his head back and then whipped sideways at the first sharp turn. A surprised yelp escaped, followed by another laugh.

Sam laughed at Dean's yelp, which he heard just above the rattle of wheels on track and the screams of the other riders. He would definitely be reminding Dean of that for months. They rounded a sharp turn and dropped at the same time, and Sam yelled in joy at the sensation. The dark concealed the track, making each new twist and dip a surprise. Sam loved the way he and Dean smashed into each other every time.

Just when he thought the ride must be over, a new twist or dip would come, and Dean let loose a laugh or happy yell.

Sam felt his mouth twist into a slight pout when the ride ended, but turned to Dean with a huge grin. "We’ll get the picture, if it's good?"

Chuckling, Dean punched Sam in the shoulder, but nodded. "Yeah, Sammy. Of course I'll buy you the picture if you want it." He shoved at Sam, trying to get him to stand up and climb out of the car.

Sam struggled out of the car, legs unfolding painfully. "And then I'm going to give you a driving lesson at Autopia.”

"Keep dreaming, Sammy. You'll never beat my ass at driving even on a kid’s ride." Dean climbed out of the car after Sam, legs creaking. He shoved Sam along, pretending to trip over him and hurry him through to the pictures.

Sam elbowed Dean and noticed a couple of older patrons watching them with disgust. He laughed softly and shoved Dean into the picture area. When they came up, Sam pointed and said, "There we are. What is with your expression?"

"I think I was trying to recover from your girlie scream." Dean laughed and bumped his shoulder into Sam's. "You want me to buy you a copy?"

Sam smacked the back of Dean's head. "For that, I want a framed version. Jerk."

Dean tipped his head back on a laugh and tossed his arm around Sam's shoulders to steer him into the store to buy their picture. "I'll buy the photo, but you have to get it framed."

"They have special Disney frames," Sam said with a little smile of glee. "And it's my birthday, so you'll buy me one." His shoulders twinged suddenly, and he bit back a startled gasp.

Groaning at the realization that Sam was right and he'd have to buy the damn frame, Dean completely missed Sam's gasp. "Yeah, okay. I'll buy you a frame, Sammy. Go pick one out." Dean nudged him toward the rack of souvenirs while he headed to the photo counter.

Sam nodded and headed for the frames, but his back continued to twinge. His shoulder blades felt like they were expanding somehow, tugging on the skin. He regretfully concluded that he needed Dean to put on some more lotion. And he'd take a few of his pills. Still, he grabbed a frame he liked and carried it back to his brother.

Dean smiled at Sam and gestured for him to put the frame on the counter. "Ring that up, too, with the picture please." He flashed his killer smile at the cute girl waiting on them, nodding when she handed him the ticket to claim the package at the end of the day. Shoving the ticket in his wallet, he turned to Sam with a grin. "So, car racing next?"

"Yeah. But I need... my shoulders are bothering me again," Sam said with a sigh. "We'll have to put some more stuff on them before we ride the cars. And I was beginning to think they'd gotten better."

Frowning, Dean put his hand on Sam's lower back and guided him out of the store. "Let's get some of the lotion on your back, then."

"It hurts now." Sam's back had begun to throb malevolently since they left the store. He gasped as he felt skin tear in first his left and the right shoulder. With an awkward twist, he pushed his right hand up his back and came away with fingertips coated with red.

"Fuck, Sammy." Dean grabbed Sam's hand and stared at the blood covering his fingers. He hurried Sam along and tugged him into the bathroom, yanking at the many layers to get to Sam's back.

Sam managed a wan smile at the confused patrons who they practically bowled over in Dean's rush to get a look at his back. He fought his way, despite Dean's hold, to a back corner and pulled his shirts off again. "What's it look like?"

Dean's eyes widened and he leaned over to grab some paper towels. "You're covered in blood. I need to clean you up." He wet a handful of them and dabbed at the blood. The blood seeped slower and Dean trailed his fingers over the cracked skin. "Looks like something's hatching out of your back, Sammy. Your skin is cracking open."

"Hatching?" Sam asked, voice sick with fear. "What? Can you see anything?" He turned his head, trying to see the wounds for himself. "Dean?"

"No, I don't see anything coming out." Dean touched the area again. "Does it hurt?" He examined the reddened area. One of the cuts started bleeding again, making him curse and reach for more paper towels.

"Yes. A lot," Sam confessed, letting his head drop toward his chest. "Like knives poking through my shoulders from the inside out."

Sam's description worried Dean. He frowned at Sam's back, pulled away the paper towels and smoothed on another layer of the cream. But Dean knew anti-itch cream wasn't going to do much good on skin that was cracking open. "What do you want to do, Sam?"

"I don't want to leave, Dean," Sam said, stubborn streak showing. "We need to get something to bandage the cuts and stuff. I have my painkillers."

Dean sighed and nodded, expecting that would be Sam's answer. "Okay, let me get to another first aid place and get some bandages. You stay here and try not to reopen the wounds, okay?"

Returning to the store they'd left, Dean flirted with the girl behind the counter and got her to produce a first aid kit from which she gave him a few bandages and some antibiotic ointment for Sam. He took her phone number just to keep up the act and then smiled and brushed her hand before making his way back to his brother’s side.

Sam stood with his back toward the mirror, peering over his shoulder to look at the wounds. The skin split over an inch wide and several inches long on each shoulder blade, exposing a sickening blackness into his body. He swallowed hard and yanked his shirts down as someone entered the bathroom.

"Hey, Sam, I managed to get us something, though I don't know if it'll be enough." Dean sighed and stepped into the room, wishing they could lock the bathroom door. Dean looked around and then nodded at the handicapped stall. "In there; it'll be easiest, I think."

Sam nodded and headed for the stall. He felt blood trickling from the wounds again and pulled his shirts away from the thick liquid. As soon as he got inside, he tugged the shirts off again, so Dean could treat him. "I think they're getting bigger."

"That's not good, Sam." Dean gave him a concerned look, turning Sam's back to him. "Shit, Sam. They’re twice the size now." He left the stall to grab some more paper towels, wetting a few to clean Sam up. "We need to get you to a doctor."

Sam hung his head and shook it violently. "Please, Dean, no. I want to finish my birthday here, not in an ER." He looked back at Dean, eyes wide and pleading.

Dean huffed, unable to deny Sam, but his forehead furrowed into a frown. "Yeah, but if it gets much worse, Sam, we're out of here, okay? We can always come back, but I don't want to ignore something hurting you." He pulled out the supplies he'd gathered, cursing the lack of counter space in the stall. "Hold these." Dean thrust the supplies into Sam's hands before cleaning his skin.

Sam took the supplies and held them tightly, relieved that Dean would let them stay. He resolved not to say anything more about the wounds unless they got awful. "Thanks, Dean. I appreciate that."

"Yeah, Sammy. Just don't be an idiot about it, okay? If they get worse, let's get them looked at." Dean was freaking out about the cracking skin. He tossed the towels in an empty bag and took the antibiotic cream and slathered it over Sam's wounds, doing his best not to restart the bleeding.

Sam felt a shiver of guilt, but did not respond to the comment. He stood still under Dean's gentle ministrations. Touches against the broken skin felt strange, not as painful as he expected, but not pleasant, either. "Almost done?"

"Hold your pants, Sammy. Still have to bandage them." Dean sighed and grabbed them from the second bag Sam held. With great care, Dean put a bandage on each wound and then taped them. "I think you'll be okay for a bit. We need to get you a new shirt... these are soaked in blood."

Sam laughed softly and turned to face Dean. "They like to sell shirts to people, Dean. And if I get one, so do you. A Grumpy."

"Not on your life." Dean shoved the supplies in his pockets and tossed the garbage.

Sam turned the full force of his eyes on Dean. "Please, Dean? I don't want to be wearing a Disney shirt all by myself. You're not going to make me, are you? Just because my back is split open and bleeding?"

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam and then punched him in the arm. "Fine. I suppose if you have to get a shirt, then I can too." He grumbled under his breath, knowing he was being played, but unable to fight it on Sam's birthday.

Sam beamed at his brother and bumped his shoulder comfortably. "Thanks, Dean. You're the best, man." He went to the sink and scooped some water to swallow a couple more pills. "And then I'll kick your ass on Autopia!"

Sam walked back to their table at the Blue Bayou, admiring the scenery and trying to calm his expression. He'd ducked into the bathroom on the pretext of washing his hands, but he'd really wanted to take a peek at his wounds. Since Dean bandaged them, Sam had made a point of not itching, wincing or mentioning them at all in front of his brother. However, he noticed some strange pushing sensations join the stretching in the past half hour. So, he’d found a quiet moment to peel back a bandage and take a look. He'd fought hard against the rush of blackness that nearly overwhelmed him.

Black feather tips poked out of the cracks in his back. And as he watched, there was another pushing sensation, and the feathers emerged a little more.

Sam sat down at the table and forced a grin for Dean. "This place is awesome, huh?"

Dean fidgeted at the table until Sam came into view. The darkness, added to the fancy setting, made him itch to get the Hell out. But he was there for Sam. He frowned when Sam sat down, worried at the look on his face, but unsure he saw things correctly in the dim lighting. "There's some good stuff on the menu, at least."

Sam tilted his head and frowned at Dean. "You don't like it," he said without doubt. "You'd prefer to eat more burgers and fries at Gepetto's."

Trying to deny it would be a futile effort, so he merely shrugged. "This place is fine, Sammy, and I know how much you enjoy this. The food’s good, I'm sure, and we can always have a burger or something else later." He nudged Sam's leg under the table. "How's your back doing?" Dean asked, eyes dropping back to the menu.

"It's about the same," Sam said, deciding on the gumbo and setting his menu aside. "There's a weird pushing sensation going on now, though." He added the extra information to throw Dean off the scent.

"Pushing?" Dean looked over the menu again and decided to go with the Monte Carlo sandwich. "Pushing how?"

Sam shrugged and shook his head. The sensation really was hard to explain. "Like pushing against the area."

Dean wrinkled his forehead, staring at Sam. He opened his mouth to question more, but the server appeared at their table. Dean ordered his sandwich and a beer, waited for Sam to order his meal and drink and then finally asking, "Pushing? Like something is under there? Sam, this really worries me."

Sam glanced at his hands and then up again. "As soon as the park closes, you can take a look again, Dean. Or drag me to a doctor, if it makes you feel better." He pleaded with his eyes, even as he felt the feathers push out a bit more.

The twinge on Sam's face made Dean want to deny Sam the rest of his day and drag him to the ER. But he took a breath and looked down at the table. "Okay, Sam. We'll wait out the evening, if you really want."

Sam reached out and squeezed Dean's hand. "Thanks, man. I just... I really want to have a good birthday. We deserve a good day." He leaned back as the waitress arrived with their drinks. She winked at him and wiggled her eyebrows, obviously thinking them a couple.

Dean smiled at the waitress, winking at her and taking his drink. He sipped at the beer, sitting back with his eyes on Sam's. "Just keep your word and tell me if you need help, Sammy."

Sam's mouth wobbled around the edges, but he nodded at Dean. "I will. I promise." He watched one of the pirate rides go by, envying the happy people inside, all of whom lived without the knowledge of what really lurked in the darkness.

Stretching out his leg, Dean pressed his foot against Sam's ankle in reassurance. He was there for his brother no matter what, but feared that Sam didn't trust him and was letting his desire for the day off override his better judgment. "Where are we heading next?"

"The pirates, of course," Sam said with a happy smile. "And Splash Mountain. After we get off of that, the fireworks should be starting." He rubbed his own foot over Dean's in thanks.

And the fireworks meant there wasn't much time left at the park. Dean was alternately disappointed and relieved. Sam wasn't letting him see his back, and Dean had noticed Sam’s discomfort. "Are you still going to make me go on that Haunted Mansion thing?"

"Hell, yeah! Maybe we should do that after pirates. Go on Splash afterward." Sam’s eyes widened, as he felt a feather brush against the chair. It sent a strange thrill through his back.

Dean groaned, dropping his head into his hands before looking back at Sam with a grin. "Okay, fine. I suppose we can go to the fake haunted house." He smiled at the waitress again when she placed the plates in from of them. He dug into his sandwich with a pornographic moan.

Sam watched Dean turn the sandwich into a sexual experience, even as he began to work on his own plate. "We're not at a diner, Dean. Can you be a little less of a pig?" he asked with great affection.

"Nope, not even, Sammy." Dean grinned, wiping his mouth off with the napkin in deference to Sam's request. He sipped at the beer, before returning to his sandwich.

Sam laughed and kicked him gently. He pushed his plate toward Dean a bit. "Try this, Dean. The sausage is awesome."

Dean waffled between putting his sandwich down and trying the sausage. Finally, he gave in to his interest in food, put his own down to try a piece of Sam's meal. "God, the food here is better than I expected."

Sam's hand shot out and grabbed a piece of Dean's sandwich, stuffing it in his mouth and chewing happily. "There's a reason this place is hard to get reservations for. Thanks for making such an effort for me, man. I appreciate it."

"Anything for you, Sammy." Dean dragged his sandwich closer and frowned at Sam. "Keep your paws off my food, if you don't want to get your ass beat." Not that he really would. But it was easier to be on the offensive than to let his guard down.

Sam sighed pathetically as Dean denied him more of his sandwich and went back to his own gumbo. "Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked, hoping his brother was having fun.

His face softened, and Dean looked at Sam with a fond smile. "Yeah, Sammy. I knew how much you’d love this and sharing it with you has been a blast."

Sam looked unashamedly happy for a moment, before the feathers pushed again, this time for a prolonged period. He forced himself not to wince, but the smile would not hold. He wondered how much longer he could hold out before the bumps became noticeable.

"What's up, Sam? You look uncomfortable." Dean squinted at his brother through the dark.

Sam sighed and admitted. "It's still pushing a bit. Feels weird."

Frowning again, Dean cocked his head. "Does it hurt?"

Sam sighed and nodded once. "It's hurt on and off all day."

"Sammy." Dean intoned, older brother exasperation bleeding through.

"Yes, it hurts," Sam said, face pulled into an unhappy pout.  "Is that what you want to hear?"

"No, I don't want to hear that it hurts."  Dean sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.  "I want you to let me figure out why you've got gaping wounds in your shoulders.  I'm afraid we'll be too late if we keep postponing."

"I know.  I'm worried, too," Sam admitted, his shoulders drooping with regret.  He leaned back in the chair, slotting himself carefully so the feathers did not push against the chair bars.  "But I still want this day with you."

Dean could tell that Sam wasn't telling him something, but he didn't know what.  He also knew, from years of experience, that Sam wasn't about to tell him either.  Sighing, Dean dug back into his sandwich, trying desperately to ignore that his baby brother was in pain and not taking care of himself.  "Have you decided what souvenir you want to take away from this place?"

Sam nudged Dean with his foot again, a physical thank you for not pushing, even though he knew his brother wanted nothing more than to haul them both out of the park and make sure Sam was all right.  "What, I only get one?"

"You already have a photo, with frame, and a tee shirt.  How many do you want?"  Dean pretended to scowl, but he was more than willing to get Sam whatever he wanted. 

Sam shrugged, bit back a wince, and said, "I don't know, actually.  I was hoping we could wander the Main Street shops before we left."  He polished off his gumbo and pushed the plate to the side for the waitress.  "Dessert after fireworks."

Raising an eyebrow, Dean polished off his sandwich in two bites and then washed it down with the rest of his beer.  "If that's what you want, Sammy." 

Sam waved to the waitress for their check and then leaned forward to whisper to Dean, "You're going to love the Pirates, Dean.  I hear they put in some animatronic Johnny Depps.  Just try not to embarrass me by squealing too loudly, k?"

Dean opened his mouth to retort just when the waitress came to leave the bill and retrieve their plates so he had to satisfy himself with a Glare of Death aimed at Sam.  "Just for that, we're riding it twice in a row." 

"Twice the piratey pleasure, huh?" Sam asked, flashing his dimples.  "You're a regular little fan girl, Dean."  And he dashed out his brother's range before Dean could kick him.

With a smile and a thank you for the waitress, Dean followed Sam out into the dusk.  He frowned, staring at Sam's back when he noticed the shirt didn't seem to be sitting against his brother's shoulders and back.  "Hey, why's your shirt all messed up?  Is something actually pushing out of your shoulders Sam?"  The questions were growled low, tinged with nerves.

Sam froze and then glanced over his shoulder to try and see.  The shirt hung oddly, the feathers having made a couple of definite lumps.  "Please, Dean, not now."

"Sam," Dean growled, moving toward his brother.  "Please don't fuck with your health like this."  Every instinct Dean possessed screamed to bodily remove his brother from the amusement park.  Two things stopped him-- his promise to Sam and the fact that if Sam didn't want to be removed from the park, there was little Dean could do short of getting them kicked out. 

"A few more hours," Sam said softly.  "Let's at least see the fireworks, Dean?"  He hung his head, knowing he should let Dean take him back to the motel and figure things out. But it was his birthday, dammit, and Dean had gone to so much trouble and didn't they deserve one fucking break?

"Fine, but then we need to figure this out Sam."  Dean moved into Sam's space, hands coming down on his shoulders.  "I can't have something happening to you, okay?"

Dean's hands landed near where the feathers were emerging, and Sam shivered, but not in pain.  Freeing himself with a step backward, he said, "So, Pirates?"

Fireworks of all colors exploded across the dark sky, causing gasps and cheers of delight from the crowd.  Sam and Dean stood near the back of the audience, by an old tree that was part of the Haunted Mansion ambiance.  Sam leaned against the trunk, a step behind Dean, admiring the pyrotechnics and thinking that would have been a good profession for Dean.

A sharp stab of pain caught him unaware, and he gasped just as the audience let out a particularly loud cheer.  Falling another step away from Dean, Sam reached for his shoulders.  The muscles pushed and stretched and bent under his fingertips.

"Dean," he said, but the fireworks and audience drowned him out. Another fierce push, and Sam fell to the ground, gasping.  "Dean."

The fireworks were beautiful, set amidst a somewhat campy night show but Dean enjoyed himself far more than he would admit.  He looked over his shoulder to see Sam's expression, but his brother wasn't there.  Turning, he called to Sam and scanned the area before seeing his brother on the ground. 

"Sam!  What the fuck?"  Dean reached down and hauled Sam to his feet, his hands going to Sam's waist to steady him when his brother slumped and headed back to the ground.

"Dean.  Dean, let go.  Oh God, Dean, let go!"  Sam pushed away, letting himself collapse in a heap again.  He felt his brand new shirt begin to tear, shredding away from his back as something enormous shoved its way out of each of his shoulder blades.

Sam suddenly felt an intense respect toward all the generations of women who had birthed babies, if this was even an iota of what the experience felt like.  Biting down on screams, Sam's forehead hit the ground, as his back arched and heaved upward.  And just when he felt like he could not live through another moment of the pushing and pain, the sensations stopped.

Lifting his neck up, Sam glanced behind him and gaped.  Huge, black wings spread around him, feathers glistening in the glow of the fireworks.  "What the fuck, wings?"

Dean stood, gaping at Sam while he writhed on the ground.  The sight of the huge black wings emerging from his brother's back left Dean immobile with shock.  "Sammy?" he asked softly.

Sam continued to stare at the wings with his mouth gaping, before cautiously attempting to stand up.  They fluttered a little as he did, but he got to his feet and stayed, although he swayed for a moment. Mouth pursed in concentration, Sam tried to flex the new appendages.  Both wings expanded around him, stretching out to their full span of almost fourteen feet.  He turned toward Dean and said, "Uh, I may have been growing wings." 

"You think?  Jesus, Sam."  Dean reached out, finger trailing over the edge of one wing.  "You didn’t think to tell me that there were feathers coming out of you?"

The fingers on his wings sent intense pleasure skyrocketing up Sam's nerves, and he moaned, before jerking them out of Dean's range.  They folded neatly over his back, crossing at the bottom, so the tips nearly brushed the ground.  The tops of his new wings stretched about a foot over his head, making Sam an even taller and more imposing figure.  "I didn't want to."

Dean huffed in irritation.  He glowered at Sam, but pulled his hand back, since Sam didn't want to be touched.  "Yeah, well now you've got a huge set of raven wings, and we're never going to be able to get you out of here discreetly."  Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "C'mon Sam, let's figure out how to get you out of here without too much attention."

A teenage girl walked by and stopped, her eyes wide as she stared at Sam.  "Those are so awesome!  How did you make them?"

Sam unfurled them and smiled.  "It's a Disney secret," he said with a wink that made her giggle.  He pushed one forward to bump against her cheek, and she squealed with delight before scampering off.  "I don't think it's going to be a problem," he said to Dean, before wrapping one of the wings around him.

Dean ducked, but found himself enclosed in the large wing.  Unable to help himself, he reached up and stroked down the long slide of feathers.  He shuddered at the softness.

Sam rumbled deep in his chest and wrapped the wing tighter around Dean.  "That feels... amazing," he said.  "Don't stop, Dean."

That reaction was the last thing Dean expected, but he reached the hand up and stroked Sam's feathers again.  This time, he dragged his hand in more of an arc to see how that felt for Sam. 

Sam's hips hitched forward in response to the touches, and he felt himself grow hard.  "Dean... I- uh, this... I'm getting hard."  He uncoiled his wing from Dean against all his instincts.  "We better go."

Blinking, Dean stepped back.  He wanted to crowd into Sam's space, stroke his hand over the feathers again...even if and just maybe because it was making Sam hard.  Dean followed Sam through the crowd, his own erection growing with each glimpse he had of the gorgeous wings rising out of Sam's strong, naked back.

Sam stretched a wing back to rub Dean's arm and coax him forward.  "Come here, Dean.  Why are you back there?"  He smiled at his brother, using the wings, which everyone appeared to think were a cool costume piece, to widen the gaps in the crowd. 

Dean shuddered at the light caress of the feathers over his skin.  He moved next to Sam to stop him from continuing the delicious torment. "Just easier to slide through the crowd behind you, dude."

Sam threw one wing out around Dean and kept him close, curling the very tip to rub over his arm.  "I still want to look over the Main Street shops.  I guess you'll have to do the looking for me, though.  My wings will get in the way."

"Sam, staying around isn’t a good idea."  Dean shuddered again and hoped like hell that no one noticed the stiff one in his jeans.  Breathing through his nose, Dean closed his eyes for a moment, before looking at Sam and catching a glimpse of his well muscled chest.

"They don't hurt anymore, Dean," Sam said softly, rubbing the wing against Dean's arm soothingly and nearly purring at the sensation.  "And it's too late to stop them.  So, please buy me a few souvenirs before we go.  I promise to make it worth your while."  He unfurled the other wing in a plea.

Dean didn't let himself think about Sam making the souvenirs worth his while, though his cock certainly took interest.  Closing his eyes and sucking in a harsh breath, he merely nodded and ground out a 'yes Sam' while they walked toward Main Street.

Sam's wings flapped once in excitement at the response and then folded back around Dean and his back.  "I want some candy, since I missed out on dessert."  He frowned and looked over at Dean.  "Uh, does it seem like I'm taking this kind of well?  Cause, I have to say, I'm feeling pretty euphoric right now."

"You’re taking it much too well, Sammy."  Dean shivered again, trying to keep the wings from touching him.  The last thing he needed was for Sam to realize that he was hard...because of Sam and his damn wings.  "But then we've been through some pretty weird shit before.  Let's get the souvenirs and head out.  I don't like you being so exposed."

Sam glanced down at his naked chest and the hard bulge in his jeans below.  "I’m pretty exposed.  Every touch to these wings seems to be hardwired to my cock.  The breeze.  The crowds.  You."  He curled the wings tightly around his back and blinked at Dean.   "I've never heard of birds getting off by having their wings stroked."

"You're not a bird, Sam."  Dean breathed easier with Sam's wings tucked up, though he missed the warmth and intimacy of feeling them brush over him.  He shook his head, trying to rid himself of such thoughts. 

Main Street bustled with the usual crowds, and Sam's right wing unfurled instantly to keep Dean close again.  "I barely have to think to control them, either," Sam said, in a wondering tone.  "It's like I already know how.  Like we know how to use our arms or legs..."  He tucked them both into a candy shop and peered at the display cases from the doorway.

Dean resigned himself to being manhandled by the feathers, especially once Sam explained how instinctive they were.  He slid into the candy store, turning to look back at his brother in the doorway.  "Do you know what you want, Sammy?"

Sam shook his head and stared at the counters, wings twitching as he thought.  The right one remained near Dean, the feathers hovering just over his arm.   "I want some walnut turtles with the milk chocolate," he finally decided, pointing with the right wing and then using it to push Dean in that direction.

Glaring over his shoulder, Dean reached out and tugged lightly on the wing tip.  "I know which ones they are, Sam."  He rolled his eyes and then turned to hide the desire he was afraid was seeping out.  The easy way that Sam manhandled him with the wing was getting to be too much.  He flirted with the girl behind the counter, managing to get an extra turtle tossed in for free before turning back to Sam.

Sam was surrounded by a bunch of little girls; he poked and tickled them with his wings.  He enjoyed their happy giggles, glad that these touches made him feel good, without it being in the wrong way.  His brain screamed at him that he should be freaking out, trying to figure out a way to get rid of the wings, but they seemed so much a part of him, no natural, that he could not find it in himself to worry.  He felt as good, better, than he had at the beginning of the day, looking forward to uncomplicated time with his brother.

When Dean approached, Sam shooed the children away and stepped into the street.  He found a place to stretch his wings out to the maximum and then folded the right over Dean again.  "Get them?"

Dean laughed and moved closer to Sam so the wing didn't touch him too much.  "Yeah, even got an extra one."  He grinned and tore into the package like a little boy on Christmas Day.  Holding it up for Sam, Dean let him take the first piece.  "Where to next?"

Sam frowned, and his right wing settled more firmly around Dean.  He took the turtle with a muffled 'thanks' and stuffed it in his mouth.  "I still don't know what to get for a souvenir.  Let's look in the big shop."

His plan backfired and now, Dean was tucked closer to Sam and having to consciously remind his dick that they were in Disneyland and erections were not okay.  It was a losing battle. He sighed, stuffing a turtle in his mouth, while Sam guided him to the shop he wanted to stop at.

Sam grabbed another turtle and peered inside the big store, frowning.  "My wings will knock everything off the shelves," he muttered.  He elbowed Dean gently.  "What should we get?"

"I've got everything I want." Dean said, without thinking, before popping another turtle in his mouth.  He wrapped the package back up and stuck it in the bag so he'd have his hands free in the store.

Sam smiled happily at Dean, wings lifting slightly.  "I know what I want!  A pirate's antenna ball for the Impala!"  His eyes widened hopefully, and he unthinkingly stroked Dean's arm with his right wing tip in appeal.

"No way!"  Dean shuddered, a full-body spasm at the gentle, pleading caress of Sam's wing.  "Sam," he whimpered, not able to withstand his brother's all out assault.

Sam tilted his head, eyes with their full pleading look and wing working its magic against Dean's arm.  "But it would look so cool, Dean," he said, mischief in his tone.

Dean shook his head, lips pressed in mute denial.  "No antenna balls for her; she has more class than that, Sam."  He nudged his brother in the side and then ducked under Sam's wing and into the store.  Taking a deep, clear breath, Dean closed his eyes for a moment to settle himself again.

Sam stood at the doorway, wings drooping.  "Oh, all right.  Would you get me one of the books on the history of Disney then?"  He pointed with his left wing.  "I'll be waiting for you at the front."

Cursing at the dejected slope of Sam's back, Dean went to grab the Disney book and then broke down and bought a pirate antenna ball.  He was sure he'd never let Sam put it on the Impala, but the big brother in him just couldn't disappoint Sam.  It took forever for Dean to get through the line and finally head back to Sam. 

Sam found a space in the middle of Main Street's front square to stand with his wings unfurled.  He stood, wings and arms spread wide, and let the night breezes caress his skin and feathers.  He wanted to fly, to flap his powerful new appendages and soar into the air like an eagle.  The muscles of his back tensed and flexed with that desire, causing ripples down the black wings.

Dean stopped just beyond the exit of the store, package clutched tight in his hand while he drank in the sight of his brother.  Sam looked magnificent, all lean muscle and pitch black feathers that left Dean aching in his jeans and unable to think, let alone speak.  He stood there and watched Sam for as long as he could.

Sam finally began to wonder what had happened to Dean and turned around to look for him.  He caught sight of Dean, standing on the sidewalk under one of the streetlights and staring at him.  Blushing, Sam wrapped the wings back around himself and walked over to Dean.  "Sorry.  Kinda got lost in my thoughts there.  I was wondering if I could fly.  Can we find out tomorrow?"

Clearing his throat and fervently praying that Sam wouldn't look down and see the erection straining the fly of his jeans, Dean didn't know how to answer.  On one hand, he wanted the wings gone just as soon as they figured out how to get them to disappear.  On the other, he wanted to touch them, to lose himself in the gorgeously silky feel of the feathers on his body.  "Here, your souvenirs." Dean thrust the bag at Sam, completely ignoring the question.

Sam took the bag and looked at it and then Dean.  The wings drooped again, as Dean ignored what he wanted to know.  "Thank you."  He dredged up a smiled and added, "This has been an awesome birthday, even with the wings."  They fluttered a little, before pulling in as tight as possible.

"You know, Sam, until we figure out how to get rid of those, you're going to have to learn how not to telegraph everything with them."   Dean sighed and poked Sam in the arm to make him meet Dean's gaze.  "What's wrong, Sammy?  The wings scream hurt and upset."  He missed the majestic way they settled around Sam and just fluttered in the breeze, which left him discomfited.

"You don't like them," Sam said.  "You want me to get rid of them."  They extended suddenly in a defiant arc.  "I won't.  Even if I can.  They're part of me.  I know that, even without having to look anything up."

Dean gaped at Sam, never guessing that Sam would want to keep the wings. He blinked, staring first at the wings and then in Sam's eyes. "Can we at least get out of here before we start discussing this?"

Sam curled the wings toward Dean, stepping closer. "I'm not moving 'til I hear you say you like the wings."

Dean shook his head gently. "Oh, Sam, of course I like them. They're gorgeous, but we need to find out about them is before you can decide to keep them, all right?"

"Gorgeous?" Sam asked, right wing tip running over Dean's face. He beamed at his brother and ruffled the wings with pride, wanting to preen them. "Really?"

Dean jumped back, gasping slightly at the caress. "Yeah, Sammy," he croaked out. Dean watched, holding back from stroking the feathers himself.

Sam fluffed the wings at Dean and then folded them over his back again. "I'm ready to go back to the hotel. I want to look up how to take care of wings. I think you may have to help me clean them." He nodded and turned, strolling toward the exit.

Dean groaned in frustration. Sam seemed to be determined to keep the wings, and Dean was convinced they were the sign of something bad. Anything bad meant something to be rid of. "First we figure out how and why, Sam."

Sam stopped and turned around, suddenly exuding a kind of menace. "How and why what, Dean?"

"How and why you suddenly have wings, Sam," Dean said, not about to back down.

Sam nodded once and stepped back, turning around to walk through the exit gates. The wings fluttered behind him, before tightening around his back again. He looked at the lines for the shuttles and then said to Dean, "I don't think I can sit in the shuttle... I don't think I can sit in the Impala, either."

Dean followed Sam, trying hard not to watch his brother. Not to watch the way the wings fluttered behind him, catching the light and driving Dean crazy. "You can lie in the backseat, Sam. The hotel is not far from the park."

Sam began to walk through the parking lot. Here, where there were fewer people and more space, he unfurled the wings again. This time, he tried flapping them a few times, succeeding in raising himself off the ground a few inches. Laughing, he turned back to Dean, wings still extended.

"Sam," Dean hissed, "will you quit fooling around? Jesus, wait until we're back at the motel, okay?" He turned to be sure no one in or around the parking lot had noticed Sam hovering off the ground.

"Stop getting your panties in a twist," Sam said, face darkening. "There's nobody around. I'm not stupid, Dean." He turned away, body shivering and wings tight around his back. He wanted to have fun, not listen to Dean whine at him about being careful.

Dean stopped walking, glaring at Sam's back. "You know what, Sam, since you don't seem to think you can fit in the car, you can just get back to the motel yourself." He hunched his shoulders, at his limit of giving in to Sam. If his brother wanted to be irresponsible, then he could do it without Dean. Spinning on his heel, Dean headed back the way they'd come to get on the tram.

"Well, if you really want me to." Sam glanced back at his brother and then started to run in the opposite direction. His wings unfurled and began to flap. Within a few strides, he lifted off the ground and then the wings took over completely. He felt free, without any boundaries or limitations, as he headed into the sky.

Sighing, Dean scrubbed his hand over his face and figured that he'd let Sam stew for a bit. He walked slowly back to the tram, waiting for the next one to take him back to the Impala and then off for a drink. It Sam wanted to be difficult, then Dean was going to take some time for himself.


Sam sat on his bed, wings lying flat out on either side of him. He rubbed oil into the feathers carefully, even as he read a passage in an old book. He frowned thoughtfully, plucking out a feather and setting it in a small pile nearby.

Dean turned into the motel parking lot, pulled into the open spot a few down from their room and sat in the car. He'd found a tiny local bar, had a couple of beers and finally felt ready to face Sam again. Unsure what he would find or how Sam would act, Dean climbed out of the car and walked to their door to let himself in the room.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said when Dean entered. "Have a good time?" He didn’t turn away from the book, or slow the movement of his hands. He carefully removed his right wing so it no longer lay on the other bed. "Sorry if I shed feathers on your bed."

Blinking at the sight, Dean opened his mouth and just stood in the doorway. It took him a few beats to scoot into the room and shut the door behind him. "Sam? What are you doing to the wings?"

Sam turned a distracted smile on Dean and then returned his attention to his wings. "Just cleaning them. Turns out, they're kinda a birthday gift. Something to do with my destiny, like my powers. According to the book and what I've found on the internet, you’d have to cut them off with a hacksaw to get rid of them."

That explained Sam's happiness. Nothing was going to be relieving him of his wings. Dean nodded and crossed to the chair to take off his boots and then drape his jacket over. He stripped out of the Disney t-shirt and removed his socks before moving to the bed and dropping onto it.

"Of course, they will make it difficult to take me anywhere," Sam said, growling a little when he couldn’t reach one of the feathers. "I'm trying to find a way to make them invisible or something." He sighed in defeat and ruffled his wings to reach some of the feathers farther down. He paused and rubbed one feather for a long time. "From what I read, my body released a lot of weird hormones when the wings came in, which explains why I didn't freak out. So yeah, I was, and am, acting a little weird right now. Guess I'll angst later, huh?" He paused, still rubbing the feather, until it fell out. "Sorry."

Dean grunted and watched Sam pull out the feather. His brother's acceptance worried, and Dean was more than ready for the concept of Sam having wings to go back into the unthinkable. He sighed and closed his eyes, tossing an arm over his face. "You're not going to be able to get in the Impala with the wings, Sam. We'll have to split up to hunt."

"I'm not going to be able to leave the motel room, except at night, Dean," Sam said with a soft laugh. "If you want to hunt, you'll have to leave me at Bobby's, until I can figure out a way to make them invisible or something. And there's no guarantee of that. I may be relegated to the night like all supernatural things."

The thought made Dean grumpy, and he rolled to his stomach, buried his face in the pillow and pretended he was going to sleep. Actually, Dean was panicking quietly at the thought of not having his brother by his side, not seeing him everyday.

Sam poked Dean with one wing gently. "Dean? Before you sleep, can you help me get the oil on the feathers I can't reach? The feathers have to get taken care of properly, or they'll get sick and so will I.”

Dean gave it a moment and then pushed up off the bed. "Yeah, okay, Sam. We'll have to get Bobby to do this for you... once we figure out how to get you to Bobby's." He pushed off the bed and held his hand out for the oil. "Where'd you get this, anyway?"

Sam shrugged and looked embarrassed. "I had it around for other purposes." He coughed a little and turned so Dean could rub the oil on his wings. "I'll fly to Bobby's and call you when I get there. No need for you to hang around if you want to hunt."

Dean closed his eyes behind Sam's back, hiding the hurt of being summarily dismissed now that Sam didn't need him and the Impala to get from one place to another. He was tempted to throw the oil at Sam, to grab his things and leave, but Dean knew that tempers were never good in their family. Opening the oil, he held it up and then paused. "How do I do this, Sam?"

"Just rub it gently into the feathers that are not already glistening. Those I could reach." Sam stretched out his wing so it was easier for Dean to handle. "A single dollop of oil should cover each feather just fine." He looked over his shoulder to smile at Dean. "Thanks, man. This is going above and beyond."

Nodding, Dean avoided Sam's eyes and tipped the bottle to the side to drop oil on one of the dull feathers. He reached out and stroked two fingers through it, dragging the oil from one end of the feather to the other. It was slick and heated, as though Sam's body was warming the feathers from the inside.

The wings folded toward Dean, brushing against his sides. "I'll miss you, dude. Hope I can find something that will enable me to be inconspicuous despite the wings. I really do like them, though... I hope that feeling lasts, or this is really going to suck," Sam said.

Dean didn't respond, couldn't respond. Sam was going to miss him, sure, but the wings were obviously worth the loss. He rolled his shoulders, ignored the way the wings brushed against him and went to work on the next feather, repeating the oiling process.

Sam sighed as the warm, knowing fingers took care of him, as they always did.  But Dean's silence bothered him, so he gently wrapped his wings around Dean in a backward hug.   "You're not saying anything.  What's wrong?"

Dean shivered at the touch, at a loss for words.  He shook his head, moved on to the next wing and sighed.  Haltingly, he tried to explain to Sam what was running through his mind, "The thought of you flying off on your own worries me, Sam." 

Sam considered this and then nodded.  "Yeah, I get that.  Is there something I can do to help you worry less?"  The wings stroked Dean's sides soothingly, even as Sam twisted to look into Dean's face.

Wishing he'd changed out of his tight jeans, Dean tried not to groan when Sam stroked him.  "Yeah, not fly off alone.  I mean, c'mon, Sam.  You're not invulnerable, and if you're alone, then no one'll know if something happens.  We need to find a way for the wings to not always be present."

"I agree with the last part, Dean.  I want to keep the wings, but not if I have to hide for the rest of my life."  Sam sighed happily and urged Dean closer with a gentle push of feathers.  "But if I can't fit in the Impala, how am I going to get anywhere?"

"I don't know, Sammy.  That's why we need to research and figure this out."  Dean gently resisted Sam's push, grabbing his brother by the shoulders and slowly turning him to face forward again.  "Let me work on cleaning the feathers.  You've got to stay facing forward and with them open."

Sam spread the wings to full extension and held them there for Dean.  "Yeah, but the whole point of going to Bobby's is so I can be somewhere safe to research," Sam said.  He sighed as Dean stroked the wings and arched them forward.  "That feels good, Dean."

The movement of the wings gave Dean a better shot at seeing which feathers were in need of the oil. "Yeah, we need to figure that part out, Sam." Dean shook his head, continuing to rub oil into the different feathers.

"I can fly, and you can follow me in the Impala," Sam suggested. His left wing swung backward and settled around Dean instinctively. "How does that sound?"

"It's about the only choice we have, and I don't like it." Dean shrugged his shoulders, oiling the feathers one at a time and making his way from one side of the wingspan to the other. "Means we have to sleep during the day and head out at night."

Sam sighed happily and pushed back into the gentle touches. "Why don't you like it, Dean? You can keep an eye on me."

Dean scoffed. "Something tells me that you’ll have a lot more freedom and speed. Not to mention, you can travel as the crow flies, and I’m stuck to roads and speed limits."

"I'll stay with you, Dean," Sam said. "Stick to the skies above you. We can have check-ins during the night to make sure we’re both all right." The wings flapped a little in approval and then wrapped around Dean completely.

"Sam, stop." Dean stroked the wings once and then pushed them back straight. "You have to stop moving them if you want me to finish this."

"Oh." The wings drooped, but remained spread so that Dean could take care of them. Sam's chin dropped to his chest, and he stared blankly at the bedspread.

Going back to work, Dean massaged the oil into each feather. It was easy to lose himself in the repetitive motion of the process. Drop of oil, fingers slick down a feather and start over again. "I think I'm almost done. Do any on your side need more oil?"

"No, they're all right," Sam said, pulling away. He stood up and flapped them a few times to help dry the feathers, before folding them over his back. "Thank you." He walked over to his bag and rummaged around for a second, before pulling out a book. "This is the book on caring for birds. It's the closest thing I could find on how to take care of my wings. Want to read it?"

"You read a caring for birds book?" Dean blinked at Sam, still standing in the middle of the floor with the oil and both hands hovering in the air. "You sure your wings are all set, Sam? I wasn't saying I was done, was just asking if you could tell if I was done from your side."

"Well, about their wings. I don't know anything about it." Sam set the book on the bed next to Dean and sat down on the other bed. "Yeah, they're done. I guess I need to learn how to sleep on my stomach." Sam frowned and poked at the pillows. "You never did tell me what you thought of my idea."

Dean put the oil on the table and then sat on the bed, his hand resting on the book. He'd read it, knowing that Sam would need help with his wings. "Which idea? The flying? I think it's the best we've got until we can get you to Bobby's and get more research done."

"About flying over the Impala and checking in at certain times so you know I'm all right," Sam said. He flopped on his stomach and wiggled, trying to find a comfortable position.

"Yeah, it's the smartest move. You land when I pull over for whatever reason. Help keep us together as best as possible." Dean stroked the book again and then brought it to the side table before tumbling onto his back. He stretched and then rolled to his side to look at Sam.

Sam smiled at Dean and blinked a few times. "I hope I can figure something out fast. What are you going to do?"

Dean looked down at his hand and then back up. "Thought I was going to help."

"You want to stay and research with me?" Sam asked; face lighting up and wings lifting from their prone position.

"Yeah, if you want." Dean was glad to see Sam's wings perking up, but he was still unsure of Sam's thoughts.

"Why wouldn't I want that? You're the one who said we had to split up." Sam pushed himself back to sitting, wings spreading around him and stretching toward Dean.

"You're the one who won't even consider that you might have to give the wings up to live your life again." Dean flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "What am I supposed to do if you can never ride in the car again, or go into a restaurant or store? Keeping these wings means that unless we find some way to deal with them, you and I will never be able to be together."

Sam's wings collapsed in distress. "They're not-” He swallowed hard and looked away from Dean, toward the wall. "Want to find somebody to amputate them?"

"No, Sam, I don't want to do anything to the wings." Dean sighed and scrubbed at his eyes. "I just want you to realize that this is a choice that may exclude me."

"It's not a choice!" Sam yelled, wings flying open. "Anymore than having two legs and two arms is a choice! I didn't ask to be a freak!" He stood up, wanting to march through the door and then froze, wings quivering.

"Never mind, Sam. I'm sorry. Just try and get some rest." Dean turned and curled up on the bed with the pillow under his cheek. "If we're going to try and set out tomorrow, we need to get as much sleep as we can."

Sam turned to stare at Dean. "Everybody leaves you in the end, is that it?" he asked softly, dangerously. "What, you think I magicked up these wings so I'd have an excuse?"

Dean went rigid on the bed, counting to ten before he stood and faced Sam. His anger was no more contained than it had been before he counted. "You know what, Sam? Fuck. You.” Dean grabbed his shirt and dragged it over his head. He dug for socks and sat on the bed to pull them on before his boots. "I've done nothing but give you every damn thing you asked for today. You wouldn't even consider getting yourself looked at to relieve my worry over what might happen. Forgive me if I don't want to lose my only family." He shoved his feet into the boots and furiously laced them up.

Sam nodded once and moved out of the way. He folded his wings tightly against his back, fighting the way they wanted to shiver and quake. His mouth pressed into a thin line, even as he turned his head to look at the other wall.

When Sam didn't say anything, didn't deny that he wanted away from him, Dean pushed to his feet and grabbed his jacket. "Since you seem to want a life without me, enjoy yourself. I'll be back to get my things and leave you in peace, Sam. I hope you're happy alone and that you had a good birthday." Dean walked out the door without looking back.

"It was a good day," Sam called from the doorway, galvanized into action by his brother’s seriousness. "Such a good day that I wanted it to last. I wanted it to be about something besides being a freak, being a hunter." He felt the wings cradle him protectively. “I took a risk, but this wasn't something that could be stopped, Dean. This is who I am. And you're the one running from me."

Turning around, Dean looked at Sam with all the hurt he felt shining from his eyes. "I've never thought you were a freak, never said you were a freak." He sighed and scrubbed at his face. "You're the one who doesn't want me around. You're the one who’s been pushing me away since the minute they sprouted." Dean looked Sam up and down. "I can't compete with something that’s physically a part of you."

"Why do you have to compete with them?" Sam asked, still standing in the doorway. "You don't compete with the other crap. I don't understand where you're getting that I don't want you around, either. I never said that or implied it. I didn't."

"Sam, you threatened me over them. You wouldn't even talk to me or listen to me." Dean spread his arms open. "You wouldn't even consider that this needed discussing."

"I was scared," Sam said softly. "It was like you were talking about cutting off my legs, Dean. I know they just emerged, but I told you, they're part of me. They feel like they've always been a part of me." He glanced around and then stepped out into the night. He walked until he stood right in front of Dean, looking down at him. "But I knew you were right. It's why I looked them up as soon as I got back to the room."

Dean stood his ground. "And you've said nothing but 'I', 'I', 'I' since I walked back through the door. What about any of that did you think would make me realize you wanted me around?"

Sam sighed and asked, "What do you want, Dean?"

"I want my brother to act like my brother. I want you to consider what I have to say as something valid and not just brush me off because it doesn't agree with this feeling you have about the wings." I want you to realize that the person in front of you is worth more than the wings. Dean waited to see if Sam would understand.

"So, what do you want to do then?" Sam asked, feeling the wings shiver and fighting to keep his voice steady.

Dean shrugged, his voice low. "I want to figure out how you can be my brother and the boy with wings"

"So you want to do exactly what I suggested doing before," Sam said.

"I never disagreed with you on that," Dean said

Sam rubbed his forehead and nodded. "Okay. I'll see you when you get back from the bar?"

"I don't have to go." Dean shoved his hands in his pockets. "Just didn't think you wanted me here, not with the way you were accusing me of being against you."

Sam reached out with hand and wing, offering, but not touching without permission. "I do want you here. I always have."

Dean smiled, reached out and grabbed Sam's hand, squeezing gently. "There's nowhere else I want to be either, Sam."

Sam's wing brushed over Dean's arm, and he squeezed back. "Okay. So... we get some sleep then?"

"Yeah," Dean edged back from the wing, smiling at Sam. He gestured for Sam to head back into the room before him, while he took another series of deep breaths.

Sam noticed how Dean backed away from the wings and felt sick at heart. His brother did hate the wings. He didn't want to touch them. Blamed them for making him feel like Sam wanted him to leave. He'd never be happy while Sam had them. Sam fought the instinct to let them droop or quiver, a conscious effort to hide his feelings from Dean the same way he did with the rest of his body. Somehow, he'd have to find a way to get rid of them...

Sam sat in a patch of shade near Bobby's house, wings slumped in the dust and read another useless book with increasing frustration.  He tossed the reading aside for a moment, rubbing his tired eyes with his hands.  Three weeks of constant research had brought them no closer to finding a way to be rid of the wings.

During those three weeks, Sam had learned to control his wings better than any other part of himself.  When he was with Dean or Bobby, he kept them tight across his back, refusing to let them express his emotions.  He was especially careful to make sure they never touched the other men, even when they ached to reach out.  Especially then.  When he was alone, he let them flop into a heap.

He'd tossed the book on bird care, though three times a week he perfunctorily oiled the feathers he could reach.  The others turned dull, faded, and began to fall out.  But despite his body's urging to take care of what it saw as a natural part of him, Sam would not allow himself to get further attached to the wings.  Instead, he made a concerted effort to see them the way Dean did- freakish things that needed to be destroyed. 

Dean watched Sam while he walked toward him, noting the dejected slump of his body and his wings, though they'd been far less expressive over the past few weeks.  Their trip to Bobby's had been uneventful since they stuck to nights and back roads.  It took longer than he'd wanted, but protecting Sam was first and foremost in his mind - always.  Even with Bobby's help and contacts, they'd had no luck finding a way for Sam to deal with the wings. Dean felt even more concerned that chunks of Sam's feathers were fading and falling out, but he refused to let Dean care for them.

"Hey Sammy, find anything in there?"  Dean held out a bottle of water, knowing Sam needed to keep more hydrated than ever.  "Anything I can do to help?  Want me to oil those feathers in the back?"  Dean reached out to touch the worst one, which hung at an odd angle behind Sam’s right shoulder.

Sam smiled at Dean and took the water, even as the wings pulled in tight, evading the touch.  "Thanks.  I haven't had any more luck today than before and options are running out," Sam said.  "There are a few more books you could pick up for me, if you don't mind.  I'll oil the wings tomorrow."

"Oh, okay.  Uh, yeah... just let me know what they're called, and I'll get them."  Dean's shoulders drooped, his sigh barely checked while looking at Sam with a sad expression.  His brother pulled further and further away, and Dean couldn't stop him.

Sam noticed the expression and asked, "Something wrong?  I know we haven't had any success finding a way to get rid of the wings, but there's still surgery."

"I'm worried, Sam.  You won't let me near you.  Your feathers are dying, and you won't let me help."  Dean turned sad, pleading eyes on his brother.  "Please let me help you care for them."

Sam's face morphed into confusion.  "Why are you worried about the wings, Dean?  We've spent the last three weeks looking for a way to get rid if them.  What does it matter if they're getting a bit bedraggled?"   He pushed away the desire to reach out with his wings, to accept Dean’s help and feel those warm, gentle fingers on his feathers.  The wings were temporary, no matter how he felt about them.  Better to let them become a heavy, painful burden, so that removing them would be a blessing.

"Because it's obviously distressing you."  Dean reached out again, this time putting his hand over his brother's instead of going for the wings.  He didn't want to face Sam's rejection again.  "I never wanted you to suffer."

Sam shrugged a little and turned his hand so he could squeeze Dean's fingers.  "I'll be all right, Dean."  He eyed the reading with distaste and sighed.  "Be better if I could find a way to get rid of them without resorting to cutting them off."

Dean opened his mouth to say that he didn't want Sam to cut them off, but closed it again, figuring Sam wouldn't be that rash.  "There has to be something out there, Sam.  In the meantime, let's get them cleaned up, okay?  I don't want you wandering around with sick wings."

"Dean-" Sam paused, trying to find a way to explain, and settled for brute honesty.  "If I'm going to get rid of them, I'd prefer not to take care of them.  There's no point if we're working to remove them anyway.  No sense for me to get more attached to them."

"If that's how you feel."  Sam's honesty, appreciated as it was, left Dean more upset.  The last thing he wanted was for this to become such a burden for Sam.  "Maybe we should just accept that there is no way to remove them.  We can base here for now... you can research, and I can go out on the hunts."

Sam frowned at Dean.  "What about surgery?" he asked.  "Shouldn't we try that before giving up?"

Dean gave it some thought.  "That should be the last option, Sam."  He shrugged, looking down and shoving his hands in his pockets.  "I mean, that's pretty serious stuff."

"Last after my hiding for the rest of my life and leaving you to hunt alone?" Sam asked, eyes downcast and voice dull. 

Gaping, because Sam had a point, Dean clamped his lips together and shook his head.  Sam being cooped up meant that he'd never get a chance at a real life.  "I guess not, but let's give those other books a shot first."

Sam fought back tears and nodded.  Deep down, he wanted his wings, no matter the trouble they caused.  But he wanted Dean more.  So, he'd rip them out with his bare hands, if it came to that.  "I have a list of books here."  He handed Dean a piece of paper.

Taking the list, Dean squeezed the hand still holding Sam's.  "Come down for dinner?  Please?"  It felt like a long time since they'd even had a simple meal together, what with Sam spending his time pouring through research.

Sam's back muscles ached at the thought of keeping his wings tight for a complete dinner.  "I'm not really hungry, Dean.  I want to keep reading, finish this book.  I'll grab something later."

"Oh."  Dean nodded and tucked the list in his pocket, dropping Sam's hand as though Sam said he thought Dean was repulsive.  "Alright.  I guess I'll see you later then.  I'll get your books in the morning."  He turned and walked from the room, head hanging.

"Thanks, Dean.  Sorry this is taking so long," Sam said, before picking up the book and reading again, more determined than ever to find a way out of his predicament.   His wings slumped into the dust again, a feather detaching and falling beside him.

After another two weeks of research, Sam's wings were still firmly attached to his back, though most of the feathers were sick, and they had not the slightest idea how to be rid of them by magical methods.  So, Sam quietly began searching for someone who might be able to remove them through more direct methods.  He finally located a doctor who specialized in treating 'odd' patients.  Sam's request that he remove a pair of wings did not faze the man in the least. 

Arranging the logistics took another week, dragging out as Sam hid the proceedings from Dean.  He did not want his brother to be disappointed if the procedure failed.   This way, he could surprise Dean, make him happy by giving him back the Sam he wanted.  Not the freak with wings.

Sneaking out in the middle of the night, Sam made his way to a deserted barn a few miles from Bobby's place.  The sight of the makeshift operating room gave Sam pause, but he steeled his nerve and marched up with a determined expression.

At first, everything went well.  The drugs put Sam under, thinking how pleased Dean would be to see him without his wings.  But then a piercing pain woke him, as the doctor made the first incision.

"You’re awake!" the doctor yelled, eyes wide. 

"Put me back under," Sam pleaded.

"I gave you more than I should have already," the doctor protested.

"Then go on.  I'll be all right," Sam said, trying to pretend he wasn't in nearly unbearable pain.

"You could die," the doctor said, eyes going from Sam's damaged wing to his face.  "The shock-"

"I don't care! Cut them off!"

Dean heard Sam sneak out.  Always subconsciously aware of his brother, he'd been even more watchful in the past few weeks.  He didn’t sleep unless his brother was in the bed across the room. As soon as Sam got up and left the room, Dean was aware.  He sighed, making his way to the kitchen to brew some coffee. 

Dean waited for Sam to come back, figuring that he'd just gone into the salvage yard for a bit, wanting to talk to him.  When he was gone more than thirty minutes, Dean wandered to the research area to see if he could help Sam.  Instead, he found a note in his brother's short hand.  It took him a moment to realize that it was a meeting place and that was where Sam had gone.  Running upstairs, he threw on jeans and boots and thundered out to the Impala.

It took him longer than he wanted to find the place, but when Dean climbed out of the Impala, he heard Sam scream and broke into a panicked run, pulling out his gun.  Dean slammed into the door, sending it crashing open and leveled the gun at the man over Sam.  "Back the fuck away from him now!"

Dean's voice cut through the pain, and Sam cried, "No, Dean!  It's all right!  Don't shoot him!  I asked him to do this!"  He choked the words out through breathless sobs of pain, even as his tied down wing continued to bleed.

The doctor backed away from the gun, hands in the air.  "I wasn't going to go on," he said, voice shaking.  "The anesthetic’s not working.  I can't operate while he's awake."

Dean motioned the man further away from Sam, before moving to his brother's side.  "You idiot."  He stroked Sam's forehead and then tore at the bindings.  Dean looked at the doctor.  "You got something to stop the bleeding?  Get him patched up." 

The doctor nodded shakily and rifled through his equipment for a needle and some thread to stitch back up the cut.

"No, Dean," Sam said, trying weakly to push him away.  "Let him finish.  You don't want me with wings.  I don't want them anymore.  Let him cut them off." 

"Oh, Sammy."  Dean moved back to Sam's shoulders, once he'd released the bindings.  Laying his hand on Sam's forehead, Dean shook his head at his brother.  "Not at this cost.  Never at this cost.”  He felt like the worst brother ever, in the face of what Sam was willing to go through for him.

Sam buried his face in his hands and let himself cry, uncaring of appearing weak.  He was tired, everything hurt, and the wings were still there.

The doctor edged forward and said quietly to Dean, "This is going to hurt," before beginning to sew up the gash on Sam's wing.  Sam let out a hoarse cry as the needle pierced his flesh, but then held still and silent.  The doctor worked quickly, healing the damage he had caused, before stepping back again.  "I'll refund the money he sent me and send someone for this stuff.  All right?"  He watched Dean with worried eyes.

"Yeah, of course."  Dean stroked his hand over Sam's shoulder and then up over his forehead.  "Sorry about the gun.  Had no idea this idiot hired you. Do we need to do anything to help the wound heal?" 

Sam shivered at being called an idiot, the wings hanging distressedly over the table.

The doctor shook his head.  "Just make sure the area stays clean and bandaged.  The stitches will dissolve themselves in awhile."  He glanced over Sam's wings and then at Dean.  "If he's keeping the wings, they need proper care.  The feathers will start getting infected soon."  He hurried out of the barn.

Dean nodded at the doctor, frustrated at himself for letting Sam get this bad.  Once the man was gone, he turned back to his brother.  "What were you thinking, Sam?  I thought we talked about this being the last option."  He stroked Sam's hair off his forehead again, unable to refrain from touching his brother.

"On the last option," Sam mumbled into his hands.  "Couldn't find anything else.  Don't want you to hunt alone."  Dean's hands on his forehead felt wonderful and against his will, the damaged wing lifted to touch Dean's arm.

Sighing, Dean closed his eyes.  "I'm so sorry, Sammy.  It's my fault that you're here.  I never meant for you go to this extreme."  He jumped slightly when the wing connected with his arm, but before Sam could react, lifted his free hand and glided it down the sickly feathers.  The sight of them made his stomach clench. "We need to take care of you."

But Sam felt him jump, and the wing collapsed into a heap beside him again.  "You hate them," he said, fighting the drag of sleep, as the pain faded to a dull ache.   "I don't want them if you hate them."

"Oh Sam, I don't hate them."  Dean took his hand from Sam's forehead and glided both over the nearest wing.  "They just surprise me when they touch me.  If I don't know they’re coming, I get startled.”  He winced when a feather came out in his fingers, but continued stroking over the length of the wing in hopes that it might soothe Sam.

"Tired," Sam mumbled, not believing Dean.  "Drugs."  He shifted to lie more comfortably, ready to sleep in the middle of the deserted barn on the operating table.

"You're not sleeping here, Sammy.  C'mon, let's get you back to Bobby's."  Dean tugged on Sam, doing his best to get him up.

Sam blinked a few times owlishly and stumbled to his feet.  He swayed, even with Dean's support, but finally forced himself to move.  "Wanted to surprise you," he said drunkenly.  "Come home with no wings.  Make you happy."

"Oh, Sammy."  Dean slid under Sam's arm to brace his brother when they made their way out of the barn and to the Impala.  He propped Sam against the car and then ushered him into the back seat once the door was open.  "I'm happy with you the way you are, Sam.” 

Sam slid into the backseat, wings pulled tight and uncomfortable to fit.  They still brushed the ceiling of the Impala and smashed against the front and back seats.  Sam moaned a little as the damaged wing collided with the opposite door, but then lay silent and still. He had failed.  Tears ran down his face and pooled on the leather below. 

Dean drove as quickly as he could, taking care to avoid as many of the ruts and bumps in the road as possible.  Sam's whimpers of pain did not escape him, and he felt awful that his brother was suffering because he thought that was what Dean wanted.  "Just a little further, Sammy.  Almost there."

Sam curled himself up tighter, trying to minimize contact with the sides of the car.  But at six four with an added fourteen feet of wings, he banged into everything at the slightest bump.  The pain from his wings overwhelmed the drugs in his system. 

Finally, Dean pulled into Bobby's yard and stopped the Impala.  He helped Sam out of the car, catching him when he swayed and pressing under his arm to keep him as immobile as possible.  "C'mon, Sammy.  Let's get you into the house."

Sam nodded and forced one foot in front of the other, until they wrestled their way inside.  His wings drooped behind him, muscles refusing to hold them up.  He left a trail of feathers in his wake, losing a bunch by the bed when Dean finally maneuvered him to lie down.

"Okay, Sammy, sleep now.  I'll be here when you wake up."  Dean sat on the edge of Sam's bed, stroking the middle of his brother's back.

Sam sighed and struggled into a comfortable position on his stomach.  His wings hung heavily around him, but his brother's hand soothed him.  "'M sorry it didn't work, Dean," he muttered, eyelids fluttering.

"S'okay, Sammy.  Don't worry about that."  Dean continued to stroke Sam's back, using the same techniques he'd used a thousand times when his brother was younger. 

Pain and tiredness destroyed Sam's defenses, and he needed Dean in a way he hadn't since he was thirteen.  "Ok, Dean.  Stay?"  He forced his eyes open to look at his brother.

Dean nodded, the lump in his throat huge.  "I'm not going anywhere, Sam.  I'll be right here when you wake up."  He really hoped that he and Sam could get back to the way they used to be.

“Night, Dean," Sam slurred and finally gave in to the darkness that wanted to overwhelm him.

Dean waited until Sam was completely asleep, before getting up from the edge of the bed.  Digging through Sam's stuff, Dean grabbed the bottle of oil and set out to methodically clean and treat each and every feather. Though Dean knew this would only help if it was continued, he was determined that Sam would wake up to having been cared for. 

The morning kicked Sam in the head, as he woke feeling hungover from the lingering drugs and the stitched wound in his wing throbbed angrily with each heartbeat.  He shut his eyes, wishing he could escape back to the dark, away from the realities of the world, most especially his failure. 

The events of the previous night were blurred, nightmarish, but Sam remembered enough to be ashamed and humiliated.   He blinked away the sting of tears, refusing to give into them the way he had before.  He would find a way to be rid of the damned wings.  No matter what needed to be done.

Dean reclined in his bed, paper spread over him and the night table while he waited for Sam to wake up.  He was thankful that Bobby had checked on them, and he'd been able to get a paper and steaming cup of coffee.  Though there was no real movement from Sam's bed, Dean knew he was awake.  He waited a few beats and then offered a soft, “Good morning, Sammy.”

Sam lifted his head and stared at his brother through gritty eyes.  He forced a hoarse, "Hey, Dean," and then lay his head down again.  "Can you wait 'til later to yell at me?"

Huffing a soft laugh, Dean folded the section of the paper he'd just finished.  "Not going to yell at you, Sammy.  How're you feeling this morning?"  Dean stood up and reached for the glass of water and pair of Advil on the dresser.  He walked to Sam's bed and perched on the edge.  "Here.  Take these... they should help."

Sam took them with a muted, "Thank you," and flopped back on the pillows.  "I feel stupid," he said.  His wings remained splayed around him, too tired and injured to do more.

Dean stayed on the edge of Sam's bed.  "Don't feel stupid, Sam."  He stroked his hand up and down the hollow of Sam's back, between the wings.  His brother’s skin was warm, and Dean smiled at being able to soothe him this way.  "Just want you to get better."  Reaching out, Dean stroked the fingers of his other hand over a particularly sad feather.  "We need to oil your feathers again."

Sam's wings twitched in response to the touch, and he turned surprised eyes toward Dean.  "Again?" he asked.  He looked at the wings and noticed the feathers had the definite sheen of oil about them.  "Dean?"

"Yes, again, Sam."  Dean stroked his hand over Sam's back, before standing to get the bottle of oil.  "I oiled them last night after you fell asleep.  We need to take care of them, Sam.  No more letting them or you get sick." 

"No," Sam said, pulling the wings in tight, despite the pain.  "Please, don't, Dean.  I can take care of them.  You don't like them."  He struggled to get out of bed, forcing his limbs to cooperate.

Dean pressed his hand into Sam's back, biting off a curse while he forced his weakened brother to settle back.  "I never said I didn't like them, Sam.  Now, just relax while I take care of your wings."  He stroked Sam's back gently, making sure his brother would stay put before oiling the wings.  "I did some reading and with them in this bad of shape, we're going to have to do this several times a day."

Sam whined low in his throat and tried to get away again.  "Dean.  Please.  Stop.  If we're going to get rid of them, please stop."  His wings tried to arch into the touch, the feel of Dean's hands soothing.  The pleasure would be sensual, if he were in better shape.

Dean stopped, hands on the wings.  He kept still, but refused to remove them.  "Shhh, Sam, it's okay.  We're not getting rid of them.  I'm sorry that I made you get this desperate."  He breathed out, slow and steady, letting the warmth from his hands seep into Sam.

"What?" Sam asked, feeling witless.  "Not getting rid of them?"  He made a concerted effort and managed to heave himself up, away from Dean's distracting hands.  Tucking his legs under himself and turning so his wings faced the wall, he looked into Dean's eyes.  "I think I need to start over."

Dean capped the oil and put it on the side table.  He rubbed his hands over his thighs while thinking how best to explain.  "I don't want you to be in pain or to be miserable, Sam.  The wings are a part of you.  A huge part of you, and you shouldn't deny that... even for me."  He felt like a jerk for leading Sam here.  "I'm sorry."

Sam stared at his brother, mouth working soundlessly.  He felt a spark of hope flare brightly inside himself, desperate to believe that he correctly interpreted Dean’s words.  "You don't want me to get rid of them?"

"Not if you don't want to, Sam."  Dean smiled at his brother, a hint of sadness around his eyes at the way Sam lit up.  He knew it meant that he'd be leaving Sam behind, if not forever, then for most of their lives.  But his brother deserved to be happy.

"What about all those things you said about my being selfish and not thinking of anything but myself?" Sam asked.  The wings slowly uncoiled from his back, the undamaged one arching toward Dean.

"At the time, I felt that way.  You weren't willing to consider any alternatives."  Dean shrugged, reaching out to meet the wing part way.  "But Sam, how could I think you selfish when you've done nothing but look for a way to make me happy for the past month?"

Sam's wing rubbed up and down Dean's arm and then curled around the bicep.  "You'd give me up," he said softly and then smiled, dimples appearing for the first time since his birthday.  "Thanks, man."

"If that's what it takes for you to be happy, Sammy.  It's all I've ever wanted, even if I forgot for a bit."  Dean shivered at the way the wing curled around his arm.  He reached up to stroke slowly over the first layer of feathers.

Sam edged closer to Dean, wing moving up his arm and then around his back, in a one-winged hug.  "I don't want to not be with you, Dean.  That's what's most important to me.  Even if I forgot for awhile, too."

Dean leaned into Sam, letting the wing curl around him.  He'd missed the way Sam had first expressed himself with the wings.  "Yeah, Sammy, I think we both forgot a few things, but we can figure this out, make whatever we need to work... well, work."

Sam's wing tightened and then relaxed.  "Would you oil my wings, Dean?  They really are starting to bother me."  They lifted in hope, the injured one not able to move as well as the other.

"Of course, Sam."  Dean leaned into his brother and reached out to stroke down the feathers.  He grabbed the oil and slid away from the wings.  "This'll be a lot easier with you awake."

"I can't believe you did that for me last night," Sam said, eyes soft as he looked at Dean. He rolled on his stomach and spread his wings so Dean could access them easily. "Just let me know if you get tired."

“It shouldn’t take too long. I kinda found a rhythm for it last night.” Dean grinned and went to work, rubbing the oil into the feathers on the bottom of the right wing to begin.

Sam sighed and melted into the sheets, his wings a source of pleasure for the first time since Dean had told him off for being selfish. "You don't have to rush on my account," he breathed out. "I love the way your hands feel."

Dean grinned. "Yeah?" He hadn't expected that, had been too wrapped up in his own need to get away from their touches. It saddened Dean to think that he'd denied his brother a measure of comfort and peace.

"Yeah." Sam ruffled the wings, so the feathers spread out more for Dean. "I couldn't get enough of touching you when they first grew. Just wanted to wrap you in them." He felt weightless, sleepy, under Dean's touches. "But you flinched or backed away, so I stopped."

"They were too shocking. Every time you touched me, it sent an odd jolt through me. I wanted to be able to touch them on my own terms, but by then, you backed away from me."

Sam nodded and sighed again. "Yeah, I can see how it would be odd." He fluffed the undamaged wing as Dean hit some dead feathers, which fell to the floor.

Dean winced when more feathers came out. "I just hope we can stop this shedding, Sam. Otherwise, you'll be bedraggled." He moved on to the middle of Sam's right wing, taking his time with each feather.

"More feathers will grow in, I think," Sam said, looking over his shoulder at Dean. "But I'm going to be ragged for at least another week. I stopped bothering to oil two weeks ago." He wrapped the good wing gently around the nearest part of Dean. "Can I touch you with them now?"

"Two weeks, Sammy?" Dean frowned at the thought, meeting his brother's gaze with a look of pure apology. "Yeah, go ahead."

"I was planning to have them cut off. What sense was there in taking care of them?" Sam stretched the wing to wrap completely around Dean's back for a second, before returning it to the previous position to let Dean oil.

"Yeah, I get that now, but I never meant for you to get that far in the process without talking to me about it." Dean stroked Sam's back in another apology.

"We did talk about it," Sam said. "Sort of. You said it should be a last resort before not being able to go hunting with you anymore. And I felt desperate." His damaged wing fluttered in distress, making him hiss softly.

Dean put a hand on Sam's shoulder, connecting with him both in body and wing. "It's okay, Sam. I found you before you did it. It's okay. Like I said, I want you to be happy and if they make you happy then we figure this out."

"But I won't be happy if you're out there all alone, Dean. I'll spend all my time pacing the floor and worrying. Maybe I can fly over the Impala?" Sam sighed and settled into the mattress. "How's the oiling going?"

"Right wing's done. Still have to do the left, but since it's not the injured one, it should take less time." Dean smiled at the way Sam relaxed.

The left wing unfolded and nudged at Dean affectionately. "Thanks, Dean. They feel better already. How about I make you dinner?"

Laughing, Dean nudged the wing back, ruffling it gently and grimacing again when a couple of feathers tumbled out. "I think that sounds good, Sam, so long as you can work without pain. You need to rest after the shock to your body."

Sam shivered when Dean ruffled the feathers, remembering his initial reaction to Dean's touches. He rubbed Dean's side some more, eyes fluttering shut in enjoyment. "I think I can manage to whip up some dinner without collapsing."

"If you can't do it without more than collapsing, then you can wait and do it another day." Dean shuddered at the touches, breath shaky while he fought off the pleasure that threatened.

"Well, choose something simple then," Sam said, breathing out on a sigh. His wing curled around Dean, brushing his ass with the very tip.

Shivering again, Dean stroked down the wing and then uncurled it from his body. "You really need to put your wing down so I can oil the feathers, Sam. The longer you postpone, the longer it takes for you to sleep again."

Sam uncurled the wing and spread it out for Dean to oil. "I want to touch you all over with my wings," he murmured happily. "See how it feels."

"Another time, Sam. Right now we need to tend to you." Dean smiled and stroked both hands gently over the wing before taking up the oil again to finish.

Sam stretched both wings once Dean completed the task and let them flap a few times, stirring the breeze. "Feels much better, Dean." He arched his back and then pushed himself off the bed.

Dean put his hands on Sam's shoulders. "Nuh-uh, Sam. Get back in that bed and rest. You need to recover."

"Uh, I need to pee," Sam said with a little grin. He pointed toward the bathroom with his good wing, the motion natural, something he had fought not to do before.

"Oh." Dean laughed and backed up so Sam could move past him. "But then back in bed."

Sam batted Dean playfully with his good wing and then went into the bathroom. When he got inside, he leaned against the sink and breathed out a few times, deep and slow. Lifting his head, he smiled at his face in the mirror, despite the gaunt and tired appearance. "Things will be all right," he told himself and believed it.

Dean sighed when he saw the driveway to Bobby's place. He knew that he and Sam should get their asses back on the road and out of their friend's home, but Dean was enjoying having a base. It was good to know that Sam was somewhere safe when he was on the road. Pushing the Impala door open, Dean hauled himself from the driver's seat with a pained groan and walked slowly to the door of the house.

Sam ran through the night toward the sound of the Impala. He had been pacing since Dean left, his wings twitching and fluttering in agitation. He saw his brother haul himself out of the car and heard his groan. "Dean!" He nearly flung himself on Dean, but noted how he held his body and braked to a swift halt. Instead, his wings reached forward and brushed gently over Dean, looking for wounds and reassuring himself that his brother had returned. "Dean."

"Hey, Sammy," Dean murmured softly, eyes tired and body hurting. "Let's go inside."

"Are you all right, Dean?" Sam asked urgently, wings cradling his brother in concern. They were strong enough to support Dean's weight now, the feathers long and healthy.

"I'm fine." Dean winced when a couple of the feathers pressed on a particularly livid bruise. "Tonight was a bit more than I expected- three spirits, not one."

"You didn't have anyone to watch your back," Sam said, self-accusation lacing his words. He stepped back; one wing still cupped around Dean, and led him toward the door. "What does fine mean? Only a few cuts that need stitches?"

Dean sighed; glad the bruise was no longer being pressed. "Don't know, Sam. Came back soon as it was done. I'm tired and want a beer and bed. Everything else can wait until tomorrow."

Sam rolled his eyes, even as he opened the door and herded Dean inside. "Beer and bed can wait until I get you taken care of. And no beer. You need to sleep." He steered Dean with his right wing, using the left to brush things out of the way.

Putting the brakes on, Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam. "Beer. Not up for discussion." He turned slightly, tugging on Sam's wing feathers gently when he headed toward the kitchen and his beer.

Both of Sam's wings came forward and trapped Dean in their depths. "Injuries first. If you have to have beer, you have it afterward."

"Sa-am." Dean whined, but stopped in his tracks.

Sam reached out and poked the area that had made Dean wince before.

"Fuck! Dammit, Sam. Stop that." Dean jumped and twisted sideways, scowling and grimacing all in one. "That fucking hurt."

"I know. Injuries first." Sam's wings rubbed soothingly over Dean's sides and back, engulfing him in downy softness that did not speak the truth of their strength. "Don't fight me on this."

Glaring at Sam, Dean crossed his arms over his chest and then cursed softly at the vicious pull across his back. "Fine but I want a beer or three after."

Sam nodded and steered Dean back toward the bathroom. "One, if you're good and not too badly banged up." He pushed him inside and grabbed their first aid kit. "Strip."

Dean turned back and narrowed his eyes again. "One no matter what, Sam." He wasn't budging, nor undressing, until Sam agreed.

Sam crumpled and waved a wing at Dean in disgruntlement. "Fine, do whatever you want." He folded them tight over his back in distress and walked out, shivering. Dean had gotten hurt going out alone. He couldn't back Dean up anymore. He was useless. He ducked outside so the wings could expand to their full span.

"Sammy!" Dean stalked after him and reached his brother in the yard, spinning him around to face Dean. "Will you stop? For fuck's sake, I just want a beer... it's not the end of the world." Sighing, he moved his hands from Sam's shoulders to stroke down the inside of each wing. "I'll wait until you've patched me up, but I just want a beer after that. Okay?"

The wings ducked back into tight formation across Sam, and he glared at his brother in the faint light from the living room. "I just want to look after you, the way you always insist on looking after me. I can't back you up anymore, but at least you could let me do that without making an issue at out it." The muscles of his back rippled in a shrug. "But I should know better."

"Fine," Dean sighed in defeat. "I'll be in the bathroom attending to my cuts, if you really want to help."

Sam growled and followed after Dean, wings dragging behind him. He brought them tight across his back as he entered the bathroom. Picking up their supplies, he waited for Dean to undress so he could patch him up.

Dean tugged off his shirt, groaning when it stuck. He felt a trickle slide down his skin and that answered his question about bruise or cut. With a sigh, Dean closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face before shucking his jeans off and pooling them at his feet.

Guilt knifed through Sam, but he kept his touch professional and impersonal as he carefully treated and bandaged Dean's wounds. When he finished, he washed his hands, put the supplies away and nodded at Dean. "I think I'll go fly for a little while. I'll stick to the area just outside Bobby's."

"Whatever you want, Sam. I'm going to bed." Dean grabbed his clothes and moved past Sam, beer not sounding even remotely appealing now that the adrenalin had worn off.

"What about your beer?" Sam asked.

Dean looked at Sam. "Hardly seems worth it since you won't be around to share it, Sammy." He shrugged and turned toward the stairs.

"You fought me tooth and nail, and now, you don't even want the fucking beer," Sam grumbled, wings spreading and nearly knocking into the walls.

"I wanted to sit, have a drink and come down from the high of the night." Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam. "Fighting with you took care of that, drained it right out of me, and now, all I want is some sleep. So, go do whatever it is that you want to do, and I'll see you in the morning." Sighing, he turned back to the stairs and put his foot on the bottom step.

"Goodnight, Dean." Sam turned and walked out the door. He spread the huge wings, cursing their existence even as he did, and began to run. A few powerful flaps lifted him off the ground, and he headed into the night air for the little freedom he had left.

Sighing, Dean finished his climb up the stairs and went into their room. He threw all of his things to the side and dropped face first onto his bed.

Sam sat on the roof, staring moodily into the sky. His wings relaxed behind him, occasionally fluttering in the gentle breeze. He had not gone in the night before, too keyed up from worrying about and then fighting with Dean. Mainly, he felt the return of anger toward the wings that made him useless to his brother.

Dean grumbled at the light coming into the room. He knew Sam hadn't been in as soon as his brain registered the light. Sam always closed the shades each night, whereas Dean was lucky he remembered to land on his own bed after a hunt. Pushing himself up, he wandered down to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

Sam leaped off the roof and glided to the ground. Folding the wings over his back, he walked into the kitchen and said, "Morning, Dean," before beginning to prepare some food for them both.

"Morning, Sammy," Dean replied, voice a harsh rasp while he sat at the table, hunching over his black coffee. He raked a hand over his head, leaving the strands standing at odd angles.

Whipping up Dean's favorite breakfast without speaking, Sam set it in front of him, before pouring himself some cereal and sitting down backward on a chair to eat. The wings fluttered once or twice, expressing Sam's nervous jitters.

Dean tucked into his eggs and toast with a happy little moan. He was starving after the hunt and hadn't had food or drink since it ended. When he had just a bit left, Dean raised his eyes to Sam. "Did you have a good flight?"

Sam pushed his cereal around the bowl and nodded distractedly. "Have to keep pretty close, but it's nice to get some exercise."

Dean opened his mouth and then closed it with a snap, nodding his head. Asking Sam to take him for a flight seemed almost wrong, somehow. "How are the feathers doing? Most of the ones that fell out have been replaced right?"

Curious about Dean's aborted movement, Sam ruffled the feathers and nodded. "They're in great shape. But we need to seriously think about trying the surgery again."

"No way, Sam." Dean frowned at Sam. "Do you need any oil on the hard to reach feathers?"

"Dude, I'm no good to you this way. Last night proved that, if nothing else. I won't be a burden." Sam carried his dishes to the sink, subject closed as far as he was concerned.

“Your brain still works, Sam, and that’s something I need.” Dean finished his last bite and stood, talking with his mouth still half-full. “You couldn’t be a burden, and I don’t want you cutting them off for me.”

"Dean, your brain works just fine," Sam said, wings spreading slightly in agitation. He washed his meager dishes and then began to clean the pans from Dean's breakfast. "And there's always Bobby. You either need a new partner, or I need to lose the wings."

Dean leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're my partner, Sam. I don't want to hear you talk about this anymore."

Sam's wings unfurled in an aggressive arc. "My wings. My life." They folded back as he fought to calm himself. "Besides, we can't stay here forever. Bobby's been great, but we're starting to overstay our welcome."

Tipping his head back, Dean sighed. "You're right, Sam; it's your choice. I just hope that you take my feelings into consideration, too - and I don't want you to give them up for me."

Without thought, Sam reached out for Dean with his right wing, brushing it over his cheek lightly. "We're having this argument in reverse now, aren't we?" He sighed and stretched the wings away from Dean. "How's your back?"

Dean pushed away from the counter, body following the wing before he caught himself and fell back. "It's a bit sore, but better than last night."

Sam noticed the movement and reached out with his wing again, leaving it where Dean could touch. "Need me to check it over?"

Dean stroked the feathers. "Yeah, you could look at it, make sure it looks okay."

Sam's other wing came forward to push gently at Dean's side. "Well, let's go to the bathroom and check it out then. I should change the bandage anyway."

Shivering at the wing on his side, Dean shifted his weight into the touch. "Yeah," he croaked, trying not to react to the gentle softness.

Confused by Dean's reactions, Sam shrugged and turned to lead the way. His wings tucked in to avoid the walls and spread out a little more as he entered the bathroom. They dipped and arched as he dug out the first aid supplies, reacting to his thoughts and emotions.

Dean followed behind Sam, hovering in the doorway while Sam looked for the things they needed. He smiled at the way the wings fluttered. He wondered if Sam even realized how much a part of him they were now.

Sam glanced over his shoulder, and his left wing pointed at the room. "Come in. Why are you standing there?" His right wing reached out to herd Dean inside.

Dean let himself be moved, a half smile on his face, until he was stood in front of Sam. "Was just watching the way your wings move with you."

"Huh?" Sam glanced at the wing still touching Dean and frowned slightly. "Yeah, they sorta have a mind of their own. I can keep them under control when I concentrate, but otherwise, they're worse than having a tail." He poked Dean with a wing tip. "Shirt."

"A tail? Like you would know." Dean chuckled and tugged his shirt up, wincing slightly at the pull. "They do move with you."

Sam gently undid the bandage from the night before and winced at the wound. "This is quite a gash. And they are a part of me." He reapplied some ointment and then put on some new bandages. "There, you're done." He yawned and fluttered the wings. "Was thinking of taking a longer flight tonight."

"Where are you planning to go?" And can I come? Dean stopped himself from actually asking the question on the tip of his tongue.

"There are some hills a couple of miles away that would make a nice perch. Thought I would go and watch the stars for a bit." Sam tilted his head to smile at Dean. "Must sound kinda dumb to you, huh? You're probably itching to run to town and pick up a girl."

Dean flushed slightly; he hadn’t thought of picking anyone up in weeks... not since Sam's wings started getting sick. "Naw, sounds kinda nice, Sammy. Just don't forget to actually sleep. I know you didn't come back to the room last night."

"I was too upset," Sam said, frowning. "I shouldn't have taken it out on you, though. I'm sorry. We seem to fight even more than usual since I got these things." He spread the wings. "I wish I’d never grown them."

"No, Sam." Dean sighed, reaching out to touch the wing closest to him. "We do seem to fight more - we’ve forgotten how to listen to each other."

The wing folded around Dean and rubbed, as Sam sought out a bit of comfort. "Yeah. It's never been our strongest suit anyway." He paused and said, "Are you afraid of all flying?"

Dean paused, taken aback. "I don't know. I mean, I'd have no way to know, right?" He blinked at Sam, fingers reaching out to trail gently over some of the silky feathers.

"Want to find out?" Sam asked, a real smile blossoming across his face. The wings wrapped around Dean. "I won't let you fall. And it'd be a good test of how strong the wings really are."

Leaning into them, Dean looked at Sam's face. "A test, Sam?" He laughed and looked down. "I thought it would be nice to try flying, but if you don't know they can hold us, that'd be a bit risky."

Arching an eyebrow, Sam yanked Dean into him using nothing but the wings. They held him tight, pressed against Sam. "If you don't want to, that's all right." He let go and stepped away, putting the supplies back in their place.

Dean stood there in shock, fighting the instinctive reaction of his body to being grabbed and hugged by Sam. "I'd like to go with you...if you really want."

"Make up your mind," Sam said, walking out of the bathroom. "Either you think it's too risky or you want to go with me."

"I never said I didn't want to go." Dean frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, following Sam. "I was just expressing concern. God, why do you take everything I say the wrong way, Sam?"

"Is that what I do?" Sam asked, wings tightening in agitation again. He went into his room and picked up a few books. "I have a lead on another case, if you want to try hunting by yourself again. Hopefully, this one really will be straightforward."

"Can we go back to the flying?" Dean stopped in the doorway, putting a hand on each side and leaning forward slightly.

Sam turned and lifted the wings toward Dean. "Ok."

"Why did you assume that my comment about risk meant I didn't want to go?" Dean tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow.

"Because you thought it would be fun to go flying, if there wasn't any risk. Which means you don't think it would be, if there is." Sam made a little gesture with his hand that his right wing mimicked. "Was probably a bad idea, anyway."

Dean sighed and leaned against the doorjamb with a shoulder. "Well, see, I was thinking that there was a way for us to figure out. Can't we try and have you fly with something else and be sure that it doesn't bring us both tumbling down?"

"I already fly with weights to build up the wings," Sam said. He fluttered the wings again. "I'll build up to some heavier stuff and let you know?"

"No, let's try tonight." Dean felt that Sam needed to know that Dean still trusted him implicitly.

"I think we need to start this conversation over again," Sam said, rubbing his forehead. His wings slumped in dejection. "I offered cause I thought you might think it was fun. But even an offer I made to be friendly led to an argument. I don't know what you want anymore. You told me I was selfish to want the wings. Now, you tell me I'm selfish to want to get rid of them. I don't know where I stand. I can't do right, no matter what I try. So, maybe we should just go back to what we do know. Hunting."

Dean's shoulders slumped. Sam really hadn't understood a thing Dean had said to him since the aborted surgery. "I want to go flying, Sam. I've wanted to go since the first time you flew off after the surgery." He shrugged, looked down and rubbed his hands on his boxers. "I don't think you're selfish for trying to get rid of the wings... I just think you're doing it for the wrong reasons, Sam. They’re a part of you.”

Sam raised his head to look at Dean, the wings lifting with him. "You mean that? You're not just saying it cause I want to hear it?"

"I've meant it every time I've said it since we talked after the surgery." Dean looked at Sam again. "I want you to be happy and have the wings if you want them. The last thing I want is for you to give them up because of me."

"There's no better reason," Sam said, walking back toward Dean. "No other reason that could ever compel me, except you." The wings brushed over Dean's arms, both sides. "Flying is pretty awesome."

Dean smiled, not agreeing or believing that he was worth Sam losing his wings. "Yeah? I've wanted to ask you to take me with you."

"Then why didn't you?" Sam asked, shaking his head at Dean.  "I wouldn't have said no."  He paused and studied Dean for a long moment.  "Dean... what do you really think of the wings?"

"I think they're gorgeous."  Dean flushed and crossed his ankles, leaning his head against the side of the door.  "They freaked me out at first, and I'm still a little jumpy when they touch me unexpectedly, but I'd be jumpy about anything reaching out and touching me unexpectedly.  But mostly, I like them because they make you happy.  Except for our fights, you smile more than you have in years."

"Gorgeous?"  Sam glanced at the wings and looked at them.  He touched one of the sleek, black feathers.  "Gorgeous?"

Dean laughed, nodding at his brother.  "You have no idea how they shine in the light or what they look like when you spread them out full span and take off into the sky.  They're beautiful, Sam, and such a part of you that they move without you even realizing or thinking about it."

Sam stared at Dean and then reached out toward him slowly with the wings.  He brushed them over Dean's side and face.  "So, you want to fly with me tonight?"

"Yes."  Dean tipped his head into the feathers with a smile.  "Sounds like fun."

"Of course, we have to decide how you want to travel.  I could scoop you in my arms, like a honeymoon couple."  Sam's smile morphed into something teasing, even as the wing spread wider to wrap all the way around Dean. 

Snorting, Dean shook his head.  "That is wrong on so many levels."  He let himself enjoy the feeling of Sam's wing curling around him.  "Do you think that'd balance out, okay?” 

Sam laughed, and the wings stroked Dean before engulfing him completely in feathers.  "You could try riding on my back, but you might get beaten to death."

"Yeah, that's not exactly a good deal either."  Dean laughed and turned his face to rub against the closest feathers.  "Let's figure that part out later.  I'm in the mood to just kick back and be outside today."

Sam studied Dean for a moment, before a mischievous grin spread across his face.  Without warning, he stepped forward and scooped Dean up in his arms.  He grunted for effect, wings fluttering to keep his balance.  "Hnh.  You might want to lay off the desserts, bowling ball butt."

"Sam!"  Dean reached out and smacked his brother's head, grumbling while he tried not to freak out about being dangled off the floor.  "I weigh less than you do, dude, so don't talk to me about dessert.  Besides, I'm never giving up pie."

Grinning evilly, Sam ignored the whack and then scooped up his brother's legs and held him like a proper wife.  "I think I can handle you this way," he said.  The wings arched in amusement.  "And of course you weigh less than I do.  You're shorter."

Dean glowered at Sam, his arm looped around his brother's neck in self-defense.  "Will you put me down?  I mean, carrying me like this when you're standing is one thing, but flying means I'll be at a different angle."

Sam bounced his brother a few times, dimples and grin wide and happy, before setting him back down.  "I think you like being manhandled," he said.  The wings brushed over Dean again, before Sam yawned.  "I need some sleep."

Hovering between frowning and blushing, Dean moved back and gestured toward Sam's bed.  "Don't let me keep you.  Besides, I want your ass rested before you take me flying."  He smiled, softening the words.  "Rest well, Sammy.  I'll be in the salvage yard if you need me."

The strange expression on Dean's face, before it morphed into a smile, intrigued Sam.  He thought again of his first reaction to having his wings touched by Dean, a reaction he had clamped firmly down on in the time since.  Especially when he thought Dean hated the wings.  Now, curious, he let one wing tip 'accidentally' brush over Dean's groin as he turned toward the bed.  "Thanks.  See you at dinner?"

Dean bit back a groan, pupils widening, while he hid the noise behind a cough.  "Yeah, Sammy," he croaked, turning to grab his jeans and hiding the furious rush of heat suffusing his face.  Being as quiet as possible, Dean finished getting dressed and slipped out of the room.

Sam smiled over his shoulder, his own body responding to the touch and Dean's reaction.  "See you later, Dean," he said with a hint of heat, as his brother left in a hurry.

Dean paced in the front yard.  He looked up at the clear sky and was both glad and unnerved.  Clear skies meant he would be able to see everything as they flew which was both a blessing and a curse to someone afraid of flying.  He jammed his hands in his pockets, turned and strode back toward the house on the path he'd been wearing down for the last quarter hour.  If Sam didn't hurry, Dean just might chicken out and take off in the Impala.

Sam walked out of the house and toward Dean, watching his brother pace with quiet amusement.  He had dressed himself in tight fitting black jeans and no shirt, glad for the warm night.  Shirts still vexed him, and he preferred not to wear them when the situation allowed.  Besides, a bare back allowed his wings more freedom to flap.  "Ready?" he asked, intercepting Dean and reaching out to him with both arms and wings.   

Stopping short, Dean looked at Sam and nodded.  He took a deep breath and stepped closer to Sam.  His brother looked proud and confident, sex appeal oozing from him with his bare chest and skin tight jeans.  Dean swallowed hard and then took the remaining couple of steps into Sam's space.

Sam tilted his head to smile at Dean, eyes warm and soft.  "Last chance to back out, big bro."  The wings folded around Dean, caressing and appealing to him to be brave. 

"Not backing out, Sam."  Dean shivered under the touch and closed his eyes.  "Just don't do anything crazy, okay?"

Sam leaned down and scooped Dean into his arms, one under his back and the other under his knees.  He spread his wings wide behind himself and began to run.  The wings beat three times before lifting them both into the air, barely feeling the strain of the added weight.  Sam laughed into the night, taking them higher and higher off the ground, before he leveled off and soared.  "How do you like it, Dean?"

The grip on Sam's shoulder should have been an answer.  Dean’s eyes were screwed tightly shut and the feeling of Sam carrying him left Dean feeling oddly unsettled.  It shouldn't be so easy for Sam to carry his weight around, as though he'd done it before.  Taking a few deep breaths, he cracked an eye open and stared at Sam.  "How high up are we?" he asked, voice raised.

Sam had been so excited at the prospect of flying with his brother that he'd missed the signs of his fear.  But now, he felt the hand that gripped his shoulder like it wanted to meld into the flesh and heard the wobble in Dean's voice.  Disappointed, Sam banked gently and turned back toward Bobby's house.  "Not very high, Dean," he soothed, easing them down.  "We'll be back on the ground in a moment."

"No! Sam, don't land!  I want to do this, just give me some time to get adjusted."  Dean smiled, trying to reassure his brother.  He consciously relaxed his hand on Sam's shoulder.

Sam leveled out again, studying Dean’s face.  With a slight nod, he banked again and began to climb higher into the night slowly.  "Just let me know if you need me to land or go lower," he said, wings working above them.  He pulled Dean in closer, wanting him to feel secure.

Dean sighed, nodded and tipped his head back slightly.  He still gripped Sam tightly. Dean forced his eyes open and looked out over the world going by beneath them.  It was thrilling in that roller coaster and high speed chase kind of way.

"You don't like it," Sam said softly.  He lifted them a little higher, aiming for a nearby hillock.  With skill born of practice (and Sam would never admit how many crashes it took to get it right), he settled them down gently on top and put Dean back on his feet.  "There.  Solid ground."  The wings folded behind him and tucked in tight.

Waiting until they were back on the ground, Dean took a step back and then smiled.  "That was really kinda awesome, man."  He grinned and poked Sam in the shoulder.  "Don't fold your wings up that tight... you've said yourself that isn't a natural way to hold them."

Sam released the wings and battered Dean with them playfully.  "I wouldn't have called it a rousing success, myself.  You were gripping me like I was going to drop you.” He sighed, the wings drooping.  "So much for sharing in my flying."  He let himself fall backward over the edge, spreading his wings suddenly to swoop up.

Dean watched Sam soar up, settling onto the hill to keep an eye on his brother.  He wished that Sam hadn’t taken off that way, but he was getting used to his brother dropping a line on him and then bailing out.  It was frustrating as hell because he wasn't able to shout at Sam while he was flying.

Sam dove straight down like a falcon, leveling out at the last moment and then soaring over Dean's head.  He hovered for a moment and then landed gently beside Dean again, sitting and settling the wings comfortably.  "Nice view."   
"Yeah, I'll say." Dean looked only at Sam. "You were amazing up there. Effortless."

Sam laughed and stretched the wings out with pride. "I guess I have a natural talent for it. It’s a nice change, considering how much trouble I have with everything else I inherited as the freak of the family." He fell silent for a moment, before adding, "Except for the part where you have to keep me locked away for the rest of my life. That kinda sucks."

Dean frowned. "Yeah, it does suck that you can't come out anymore. I miss being able to go out to dinner with you." He leaned back and smiled at Sam again.

Sam lifted a wing and poked Dean with it gently. "What’re you grinning at?"

"The whole change in you is kinda interesting, Sam." Dean nodded at him. "You really like them, don't you?"

Sam frowned and looked at the sky. "Not always, no. Flying is nice. But I don't like them enough to be willing to spend my whole life in hiding."

Tilting his head at Sam, Dean raised an eyebrow. "I think we can find another solution, Sam. It just might take a bit of time."

Sam nodded and turned back to Dean. "I'm sorry you don't like flying, Dean. I'd enjoy them more if you liked to be with me when I fly."

"I'm trying, Sam. It just feels precarious to me. I don't have the solidity of the wings being a part of me. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah. Especially since you don't care much for flying anyway. Having to trust me to hold on to you must be hard." Sam stretched the wings wide again, before letting them settle comfortably.

"It's not the trust, Sam." Dean looked down and picked at the grass for a moment before taking a deep breath and looking back up. "I trust you with my life on a regular basis. But usually, I can hold my own, too. The fear of flying makes it hard to completely relax, too."

Sam nodded again and draped a wing over Dean's back. "Good thing you didn't end up with these. You'd never use them."

Dean laughed and leaned into Sam’s wing. “Yeah, I’d never use them at all. At least, not on my own. Give me a little bit and then take me up again?”

"Really?" Sam smiled, and the wing brushed over Dean. "Sure. Anywhere you want to go, Dean." He rubbed his chest with one hand. "Nights are going to start turning chilly soon. We're going to have to find a way to wrestle me into sweaters and long-sleeve shirts."

Looking up at Sam, Dean realized the truth of that and nodded. "Or, as you pointed out that we're wearing out our welcome, we could find a warmer place to do the research."

"California?" Sam suggested. "Las Vegas? I might even fit in there. What's one tall guy with wings to them?"

"Anywhere you want, Sam." Dean smiled and leaned in, reaching up to stroke his hand over some of the feathers at the edge of his touch.

Sam warmed to the subject, mouth spreading in amusement. "I could make a fortune in one of those shows for middle-aged women. You know, the ones where the guys wear little thongs and lap dance on the audience? The wings would just be an added attraction." Sam did a little wriggle in demonstration, before laughing.

Dean arched an eyebrow, trying hard not to scowl at the idea of Sam dancing half naked for a sea of middle aged women. "Um, well, it would get you out of the house again, right?"

"Right. And I could learn a few new moves. Maybe get myself laid the way you keep suggesting I should. Not to mention bring home the cash to fund your hunts." The whole ridiculous idea made Sam laugh and curl his wings in amusement.

There was nothing Dean could say. He couldn't tell Sam how badly he hated the idea, how much the thought of Sam dancing like that and getting laid made him want to scream. "Yeah, I mean it is a fairly sound plan until someone realizes they're real and causes trouble. But if you really want to go, Sam, then we'll go."

Sam smacked him lightly with a wing. "No way, dude. I'd be way too embarrassed to ever be able to dance in a thong. Besides, it wouldn't hold me in." He sighed and looked off into the distance. "There's a place in California I can go for awhile. You could get away and do some hunting and stuff, if you wanted."

Gaping at Sam's casual statement about not being held in by a thong, Dean ducked his head and huffed a soft laugh. His body had responded, cock hardening in his jeans, while he tried to convince himself that it was wholly inappropriate. "No, Sam, I don't want us to separate."

"Yeah, I know. I just don't know what to do, Dean. I'm no closer to figuring anything out than I was when we got here. I'm afraid it's surgery or wings-for-life. I need some time to think it over, but I'm still leaning toward the surgery." Sam tightened the wing around Dean a little. "Even though I'll miss them. Miss touching you with them."

Dean scooted closer to Sam so the wing didn't have to stretch too far around him. "Yeah? You like touching me with them?"

"It made me hard the first day," Sam reminded him gently. He ran the feathers of the right wing over Dean's face and then lifted his left to curl around Dean as well. "You're the only person I can touch with them."

"It's an interesting sensation, Sam." Dean turned his face into the new wing curled around him. He laughed and looked down, fingers teasing at the feathers. "One of the reasons that I shied away in the beginning was because it made me hard, too."

Sam's eyes widened and he shifted closer, voice dropping an octave, "Really?"

Shivering, Dean looked at Sam and then back down to the feather he played with. "Yeah. I had a hard time letting you touch me because it was distracting and the feeling was too much."

"And now?" Sam asked, wings gathering Dean in a feather enclosure. "What about now, Dean?"

Dean looked at Sam, fear warring with desire. He wanted to tell Sam the truth, tell him how much he loved and wanted him. But the thought of losing Sam made him clench his jaw and stare wide-eyed at Sam. "I... god, Sam." He shifted, trying to relieve the hardness in his jeans. "Yeah," he finally murmured.

Sam scooted back, even as the wings pushed and prodded and maneuvered Dean's legs apart. He smiled when he saw the bulge in Dean's pants and dropped one wing to rub against the firm denim. "I was hoping I had seen that right this afternoon."

"Oh, Jesus fuck, Sam." Dean's head fell back, and he tried to close his legs. Sam was touching him in ways he'd dreamt of, but never thought he'd feel.

Sam growled and pushed back with his wing, reaching in with the other to help lever Dean open again. "I want to run my wings all over your body," he purred, voice deep. "Want to watch you fall apart."

Dean's arms gave out, and he tumbled to the grass. He groaned, thighs falling open, while he grabbed the ground beneath him. "Oh God, Sam, please."

Sam surged forward, wings streaming behind him, and crawled on top of Dean. He rested his big body on Dean's, smiling down at his dazed expression. He lowered himself enough to brush his lips over Dean's, an almost kiss. "Tell me I can do whatever I want with you," he whispered.

Dean blinked at Sam, tongue flicking over his lips. "Yeah, Sammy, anything you want." He reached up and grabbed Sam's waist in his hands, curling his fingers tightly into Sam’s body.

Sam's wings spread around them like a great predator. "Right here, Dean? I want to strip you bare and make you writhe until you come screaming my name."

Shuddering again, Dean nodded. "Here, Sam... need you now. Please." He bent one knee and brought that leg up to cradle Sam's hip.

Sam took Dean's mouth in a fierce kiss, filled with weeks of longing and hardship. He scrambled to tear off the clothes that kept him from warm skin, tossing them without regard for where they landed. The wings beat up and down in rhythm to his frantic movements, until he had Dean sprawled naked beneath him. Then they arched down and around to trail over bare sides and legs.

There was nothing Dean could do when Sam attacked his clothes. He was fierce and hot, taking control and thrilling Dean. Reaching up, Dean curled his arms around Sam's neck and cradled Sam against his body. He arched, moaned and cried out softly when the feathers tickled and trailed over his sides.

Sam gently pushed himself up and off Dean again, though he kissed him as he did. "You're gorgeous, Dean. No wonder women let you sweet talk them into bed. What a loss every one must have felt, knowing they got this only for a night." He curled the wing tighter so it could trail over Dean's cock, his own eyes fluttering at the sensation. "But this belongs to me now. No more one nights... just forever. Understand?"

Dean's eyes rolled back in his head, hands grasping at the grass. "Forever, Sammy? You want forever?" His ability to concentrate quickly faded while Sam's wing caressed his dick.

"Nothing less will do. If you can't handle forever, we stop right now, Dean." Sam pulled the wing away, holding it just out of reach.

Taking time to slow his breathing, Dean gave what Sam said careful consideration. He wouldn't ever lie to Sam, do anything to hurt him. Dean knew he needed to be sure. "Sam, I want you. I've wanted you for a long time."

Sam captured Dean's mouth in a long, tongue-filled kiss, before releasing him. He held himself up so his wing could sneak back in and continue to stroke Dean's cock. His tongue snuck out in concentration, as he maneuvered the soft feathers down and over Dean's balls and then up to the tip. He lifted the wing so he could suck a bit of moisture off one feather, before lowering it down and tracing the wet ends over Dean's thighs.

Dean shuddered, body arching into the touches while his eyes widened when Sam sucked the moisture from the feather. He grabbed tight to Sam's shoulders, fingers digging in while he arched into Sam's touch. "Please, Sammy."

"Is there something you need, Dean?" Sam asked, voice low and rumbling. The other wing bent to join the fun, so Dean's cock was stroked from both sides and in opposite directions.

Dean shook his head, nodded and then shook his head again. He didn't know what he needed, what he wanted. He dug his fingers in hard and arched up, a harsh cry slipping out. "You. Need you. Please. Sammy."

"I'm here, Dean. You've got me," Sam said. He reared back on his haunches, wings still rubbing at Dean's cock and added his hand to the mix.

"No," Dean rolled his head from side to side, reaching down to push the wings away and yank Sam hard over him. He devoured Sam's mouth, pouring all of his excitement and care into the kiss.

Sam fell partly on top of Dean, allowing the kiss for a moment, before pulling away. "No?" he asked, danger in his voice. "No, what?"

"Need more, need your hands on me, your mouth on me, Sam." Dean dragged one thigh up to rub against Sam’s side. He used his hips to rise and press into his brother's body.

Sam hissed and pushed Dean down, wings bent in disapproval. But he sucked at Dean's neck and started an oral examination of his body from the top. He lingered over each nipple, using his teeth to chew on each one, before soothing with his tongue. Dean's navel also received the lion's share of attention, before Sam paused over Dean's cock. He studied his prey for a moment, before engulfing the whole in one smooth movement.

Dean tried to force his hips down while Sam sucked him deep into his throat. He'd never imagined that his brother would blow him, never mind actually be good at what he was doing. Sliding his hands from Sam's shoulders, Dean reached back and glided his hands down the edges of the wings with a heated groan.

The wings arched up and away from the distracting hands, leaving Sam free to concentrate on the task at hand. He had not given a blowjob in years, but threw himself into the task without fear. His gag reflex stayed nicely under control, even as he bobbed up and down, pushing Dean deeper every time.

Moaning in frustration, Dean dropped his hands back to the ground. He yanked at the grass and then curled both hands around Sam's head. Dean wasn't guiding, merely holding on for the ride Sam was determined to take him on.

Sam brought the wings down around them again, touching the ground gently. He pulled off Dean with a loud slurp and licked at the head, before going right back down again. His hands clutched Dean's hips, helping them thrust up and down, in and out.

Dean could take a hint and arched his hips up and down. He wanted to press down Sam's throat. Craving the touch of the wings, Dean rolled his head. "Touch me, Sam... please."

Sam pushed off completely and glared at Dean. "What the fuck am I doing?"

Dean whimpered, forcing his eyes open to stare at Sam. His eyes were drowning in pleasure, desire and a hint of fear that Sam would stop and tell him he was only kidding. "Please, Sammy."

Sam readjusted, not sure what the Hell it took to please Dean, and went back to work with his mouth. His wings draped closer as he concentrated on the task, using a hint of teeth on the more sensitive areas of Dean's cock.

Whimpering, Dean tangled his hands in Sam's hair and tried to let Sam do this his way. No matter how much he wanted the wings to touch him again, Dean was determined to let Sam lead.

Sam began to get frustrated, even though he did not slow down his ministrations. He knew blowjobs could take a long time, but Dean kept giving him mixed signals, so he no longer knew if he was doing this right or wrong. In an attempt to liven things up, he reached out with one wing to rub along his side and chest.

Arching up, Dean screamed, his hands tightening in Sam's hair as he came hard and fast. He didn't have any chance to warn Sam about the impending orgasm before he pulsed into Sam's mouth.

Sam swallowed desperately, before giving up and letting Dean come on his face. After the aborted attempts to make him come earlier, Sam had not been expecting such a reaction. Rubbing at the mess, he licked it off his fingers, before using a wing to clean off the remainder.

Dean shuddered through the orgasm, letting Sam touch and stroke him. He pried his eyes open, staring at Sam's face while his brother cleaned him. Dean moaned softly and reached out to caress the side of Sam's face.

Sam tilted his head and arched an eyebrow. He stroked Dean's body gently with one wing, up and down his side. The other wing stretched toward the night sky, helping Sam balance on one arm.

Crying out again, Dean's body convulsed, cock spurting another shot of come onto his belly. He groaned and opened his eyes. "God, Sammy." It was like the wings were hard wired to his cock, and he couldn't control his body's reactions.

"It's getting late," Sam said softly, smiling at the reaction and letting his wing continue to stroke. He shifted to a more comfortable position, allowing the other wing to bend down and brush Dean's other side.

"It is?" Dean turned his head, eyes half lidded when he smiled at Sam. "C'mere, Sammy." He reached one hand up to tug at Sam's shoulder.

Sam laid one wing flat so he could lie on his side next to Dean.  He smiled and kissed Dean gently, with a hint of tongue.  "Here I am."

"Hmmm, here you are."  Dean rolled onto his side, pressing against Sam and delving into his mouth for a long, heated kiss.  He wanted all of Sam now, and was finally able to give and take anything he pleased.  Dragging his hand up Sam's side, Dean reached over his shoulder and stroked down one wing.

Sam shivered under the attention, as the wing pressed into Dean's hand and then lifted to lay on top of him.  He placed both hands on the warm skin of Dean's chest and pressed into the strength there.  "And now that I'm here?" 

"Now that you're here, you're mine."  Dean grinned and leaned in for another kiss.  He took his hand away from Sam's wing and down the front of his body to pop open the button on Sam's jeans with one hand.  Chuckling, he nipped at Sam's lower lip before squirming his other hand to pull down the zipper and press open the edges of the jeans.  Dean grinned at Sam and then slid his hand inside Sam's boxers to curl around Sam's cock.  He stroked up slowly, tightening and twisting his hand over the head before bringing it up to lick the pre-come from his palm.

Sam growled deep in his throat and pushed into the hand, wing arching over Dean's back and pulling him in tighter.  His hands lifted to pinch and twist Dean's nipples, before one slid up to circle his throat and tug him forward for another possessive kiss.  "I want your ass, Dean."

Dean shuddered against Sam, the words spiking through him with a jolt of pleasure.  "Fuck, Sammy.  Yeah?"  He looked at Sam, eyes nearly black with desire.  "Want that, too.  Want to feel you."  Twisting his hand, he stroked down Sam's cock and back to the tip.

"Yeah, Dean."  Sam's wing twisted over Dean's ass, petting the firm mounds for a few moments.  He rubbed his thumb over Dean's pulse point, feeling his heart hammering there.  "Want you on your knees, begging for more."  The clever wingtip edged just between Dean's cheeks, running softly over the entrance to his body.

"God, Sam.  Those feathers are the most erotic thing."  Dean had never really played around with anything like that in bed before. "Want that.  But, we have nothing to use."  He groaned, eyes closing when he leaned in to steal another kiss.

Sam rolled to his knees and pulled Dean with him.  "Hands and knees," he ordered, spreading the wings to their full extent behind him.  He stroked Dean with his hands, using them to soften the order into a kind of plea.
Dean rolled with Sam, on his knees before he realized it and clutching at Sam's shoulders.  He wanted this so bad, but they had nothing with them.  "Sam, we need lube.  I -" Dean didn't want to admit that he knew just how bad this idea was without lube.  "Mine's back at the house.  We need it, Sam."

The wings encircled Dean, hugging him gently.  "Trust me, Dean," Sam rumbled, nuzzling at Dean's neck, before biting down possessively.  "I'll take care of you.”

"I trust you, Sam.  I do."  Dean groaned, head tipping back to let Sam bite all he wanted.  "But it hurts too much.  Don't fuck me without lube, Sam.  Please."  He turned wide eyes, a hint of pained memory and a touch of fear in their depths, toward Sam.

Sam tucked Dean into his arms, wings wrapping around him like a comforting feather blanket.  "Shhh.  I wouldn't do that, Dean."  He lapped at the mark on Dean's neck, settling back on his haunches and taking Dean with him. 

Dean moved with Sam, secure in his embrace and resting his head on Sam's while his brother licked his neck. He moaned softly, his body relaxing slowly with each pass of Sam's tongue over the bruise.

"Who would have thought you were such a snuggler," Sam said, affection lacing his honeyed tone.  He nosed at Dean's face until he could reach his mouth for a long, deep kiss.  His hands swept down to cradle Dean's ass, wings keeping him safe in Sam's embrace.

"Yeah, something you better be keeping to yourself, Sammy." Dean breathed the words out once he pulled back and caught his breath.

"As long as you don't plan to share it with anyone else," Sam said, eyes full of fire.  He allowed Dean to pull away a little, the wings easing back.  He glanced at the night sky, noticing it lightening to the west.  "We need to get back."  

Dean sighed, following Sam's gaze to the horizon.  How had they managed to be out the whole night?  "Yeah.  Looks like we do, Sammy."  Smiling, Dean reached a hand up to curl around Sam's cheek and pull him in for a gentle kiss.

Sam kissed back and then released Dean.  He zipped up his jeans, wincing slightly as they pinched.  Standing up and unfurling his wings, he looked around at the strewn remains of Dean's clothes.  "Your pants are missing."  He walked to the side and peered over the edge.  "Oops.  One moment."  He dove off and swooped down to collect them.
Watching Sam take off, Dean fell back on the grass and shook with laughter.  His brother had thrown them so far in his haste they'd gone over the edge of the hill.  Snorting still, Dean pulled himself upright and rooted around for his things.  He had his boxers and socks on by the time Sam swooped back.

Sam heard Dean's laughter and whacked him gently with a wing.  "You didn't even get me off, so I wouldn't be laughing if I were you.  I can always leave you here to walk home."  He set the jeans next to Dean and stretched out the wings again, watching the sunrise. 

Dean climbed into his jeans and tugged his shirt over his head.  He searched around for his boots and dropped them near where Sam sat before settling next to his brother.  Crossing his arms over his knees and laying his head atop them, Dean smiled at Sam.  "Didn't say I wouldn't get you off, Sammy.  You're the one who stopped everything.  Want me to suck you?"  He moved an arm from under his head to curl the hand over Sam's hard length.

Sam shook his head, glancing at the sky again.  "Can't chance it now, Dean.  We need to get back."  He stood and flapped out his wings, preparing them for the flight.  "Ready for another ride?"

"Yeah, I think I am."  Dean smiled at Sam and moved right into his brother's space.  Leaning up slightly, Dean curled a hand around Sam's head and pulled his mouth down for a heated, thorough kiss.  "Fly me home, Sam."

Sam wrapped Dean is his arms and wings for a long, satisfying moment and then scooped him up.  Eyes laughing, he said, "Hold on for your life, Dean," and jumped off the side of the hill.  He let them fall for a moment and then spread the wings to catch an updraft and send them soaring into the sky.

Dean paced the width of Bobby's driveway and then turned around.  Being back at his place left him without the ability to be really close to Sam.  They couldn't risk him finding out, realizing that they had grown even closer. Dean wanted to get Sam away from the house again - this time in broad daylight.

"Having fun?" Sam asked from a seated position nearby, behind the Impala.  He unfolded his wings and flapped them out a few times, before starting to preen the right with his fingers.  "You're making me antsy."

"Let's get out of here, Sam."  Dean spun on his heel and planted his feet, hands shoved into his front pockets.  "I'm restless and want to get out with you."

Sam tilted his head and then stood in a smooth motion.  "What's wrong?"  He stepped closer, wings reaching out instinctively for Dean.

Dean let Sam's wings move over him, giving his brother a wicked grin.  "I want to touch you in ways that would horrify Bobby, Sam.  We've not had any privacy since the other night, and I want to get out of here."

Sam laughed and rubbed the wings over Dean.  "There's a stand of trees a few miles from here with a patch of grass underneath.  We should be safe there.  No prying eyes.”

"Perfect.  Take me there."  Dean stepped closer, trusting Sam to grab him and fly them to the spot. 

Sam laughed again and smacked Dean's ass with his right wing.  "So, now, I'm your personal transport?" he asked, obviously not minding.  He hefted his brother into his arms and spread the wings.  "Fine, here we go."  And with a running start, he got them into the air.

It was Dean's turn to laugh when Sam dipped quickly before landing them in a clearing. He was reluctant to let go and then realized he didn't have to.  When Sam released his legs, Dean got his feet on the ground and kept himself in Sam's space.  "Been waiting to do this."  He pressed in and took Sam's mouth.

Sam wrapped arms and wings around Dean and kissed back hungrily.  "I have lube in my pockets.  Want to lube your ass."  He laughed and separated them long enough to shed his pants, the only clothes he wore.  Stepping back into Dean's arms, he kissed him again, rubbing under his shirt on the bare skin of his back. 

Dean laughed, blood heating when he realized that Sam was walking around with lube in his pocket.  He reached behind his head and tugged his own shirt off, groaning when their bare chests met.  A frisson of desire shot through him before he reached up to bury both hands in Sam's hair.

Sam allowed Dean to lead the kiss for a moment, before taking over and drinking his fill of Dean's mouth.  He squeezed Dean's ass through his jeans, growling low in his throat.  "You're gorgeous," he said, voice deep.  He bit down on the mark he'd left before, worrying at it with his teeth.

Tipping his head back on a groan, Dean rolled it to the side and then hitched a thigh up in response to Sam's hands on his ass. 

"Mine," Sam whispered, sliding his hands inside Dean's jeans to brush over the skin.  "At long last."

"At long last?"  Dean murmured the words against Sam's lips and pulled back, eyebrow arched high.  "You've wanted this?"

Sam reached out for Dean, not wanting him to move away.  "When I was sixteen, I caught you fucking some random girl in the Impala.  It hurt me more than I could comprehend, until I found myself jacking off to the image of you taking me in the backseat."  His laugh was low, dirty.  "You missed that opportunity."

"Sam," Dean groaned and surged forward for another kiss.  "You've wanted me nearly as long as I wanted you."  He chuckled and shook his head slightly, before kissing Sam again and bringing his hands down to work at the button fly of his jeans.

"You wanted me at sixteen?" Sam asked, his lips still pressing against Dean's.  "I was such a gangly scarecrow then."  He pushed Dean's jeans down his hips, letting them tangle around his knees.  "You were a playboy, and I couldn't even get a girl to look my way."  He cupped Dean through his boxers, massaging the warm, living hardness.

Dean sighed, pressing his hips into Sam's touch.  He closed his eyes and angled their foreheads together.  "That's because not a single one of them saw you running, or the way you handled the weapons, the way you could go through all of Dad's rigorous trainings and come out ahead.  You'd stand there, sweating and grinning in accomplishment.  When you looked at me, it was maybe early October that year, I got so hard in my running shorts that I did five extra miles that day to calm down."  He didn't mention that he'd fucked his first guy that night.

Sam snorted and nibbled Dean's lower lip.  "I smiled only for you, Dean.  The rest didn't matter to me, not then.  But I wanted you to be proud."  He pushed the boxers down enough to take Dean in hand and stroked slowly, stoking the fire ever hotter.  "Still want that."

"I was always proud of you, Sam." Dean looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Well, except maybe when you were being a bitch to me." Dean pressed his hips forward into Sam's hand.

"So by your count, not very often, huh?" Sam teased, wings raising in amusement, before snuggling around Dean again. He rubbed the nail of his thumb over the slit of Dean's cock, smearing the pre-come there around the head.

Groaning, Dean dug his fingers into Sam's shoulders. "A lot more than you'd ever have imagined, Sam." Dean leaned in and nibbled on Sam's lower lip before swiping his tongue over the sore. "Want you, Sammy."

"You've got me, Dean. For however long you want me, I’m yours." Sam pushed Dean toward the ground, wings adding extra power to the shove.

Dean let himself fall to the ground, yanking off his boots and socks before he kicked his jeans and boxers off. He propped himself on his arms and stared at Sam. "It goes both ways, Sam. You’ve got me for as long as you wish."

Wings arched over his back, Sam loomed over Dean, staring down at his body with open hunger. He lowered himself so they were pressed skin to skin along their entire lengths. "My brother. My lover. Mine." He kissed him fiercely for a moment and then twisted his head to sink his teeth into Dean's neck.

Dean gasped at the bite and curled his body around Sam's. "We are each other's. Always." Dean arched, gasping and clinging to Sam.

Thrusting his cock against Dean's, Sam suckled on Dean's earlobe, before whispering, "Let me make love to you, Dean."

"Yeah, Sammy. Want you... want to feel you." Dean turned his head to nuzzle Sam's ear.

Sam pulled back to push Dean's legs apart and leaned down to lick the head of his cock. He nibbled lightly, sliding his hand down to rub a fingertip behind his balls and further back. "Which way, Dean?"

"What do you want Sam? Either way is good for me." Dean grinned and arched his back so his hips slid against Sam's.

Sam urged Dean on his hands and knees, lifting his ass. "This is what I wanted to do last time," he whispered. He spread Dean's cheeks and buried his face inside, tongue exploring the whole area in large swathes. His wings wrapped forward, around Dean, to explore his bare skin.

Groaning, Dean's arms collapsed so he landed with his forehead pressed into his forearm. He keened at the combination of tongue and wings, touching and slicking him to prep his body for Sam.

Sam's wings tightened around Dean, swathing him in feather. He wriggled the tip of his tongue inside resistant muscle and savored the dark, musky flavor of Dean. Pulling back a little, he made Dean nice and wet on the outside, before pushing back in again.

Dean bit his arm, muffling the loud cry that threatened to escape. It was all he could do to not thrust hard against Sam.

Sam sat up and pressed a kiss to Dean's spine. "Don't muffle your cries, Dean. I want to hear your voice as I claim you." He slid his hand around Dean's body and gripped his cock gently.

Lifting his head, Dean moaned. "God, Sam." He hitched his hips forward into Sam's grip around his cock. "Please, want to feel you inside me."

Sam chuckled and reached for the lube. "Need to make sure you're nice and ready, Dean. Don’t want to hurt you." He slicked up his fingers and then slid them back down. As he twisted one inside, he asked, "When was the last time you did this?"

"After you left for college. There was a guy in one town we were laid up in for a few weeks when Dad was injured. I had a lot of free time on my hands." Dean chuckled and pushed back onto Sam's fingers.

Sam pressed in deeper, growling his displeasure, even as the wings curled up and off Dean. "You always did know how to pass the time."

Frowning, Dean twisted his head to look for the wings. The removal of the feathers made him aware of how much Sam had been touching him. "With no one around but a pissed off Dad, you better believe I went out a lot."

Sam nodded and stroked up Dean's spine with a wingtip. "We always had different ideas about sex," he murmured as he pushed past his first knuckle inside Dean. "What it means."

Dean breathed out and then turned his head to look at Sam. "What are you talking about?" He really wanted to ask why Sam was even talking anymore.

Sam scissored a second finger inside Dean, working him open with patience. His left wing dipped under Dean to stroke along his cock and balls, the sensations making Sam hiss in pleasure. He spread his fingers wide and tugged Dean back. "How I wish either or both of us had waited for this."

Moving into the varying touches, Dean shook his head. "We can't rewrite history and if we tried, we wouldn't be here now." He arched his back, rocking forward and back on his elbows to get Sam's fingers deeper inside his body.

Sam removed his fingers and pressed a wet kiss to Dean's back. "Ready for me?" He tucked both wings around Dean in support.

"Yes, God, Sam...please." Dean felt completely enclosed by the wings, more cared for than he'd ever felt before.

Sam spread Dean open wide and slid inside with one, long, slow push. He did not force himself into unwilling muscle, but eased in so that they were joined before either realized. Bending over Dean's back, wings taut with pleasure, Sam gasped, "Oh God. Like I belong there."

Dean arched once with Sam pressed tight against his back. "Oh yeah, Sammy." He dropped his head and panted softly, waiting for Sam to pull back and start thrusting into him.

Gripping Dean's hips tight in his hands, Sam started a fierce, pounding rhythm. He wanted to drive away the memories of everyone else Dean had ever known. He could not be Dean's first, but he would be the last and most important. The one before which all others withered.

Keening, Dean clenched tight around Sam and rocked back against him. "God, Sam... please. More." He dug into the ground to brace himself.

Sam huffed a breath and plowed Dean, using the wings to pull him into each thrust. He wondered how deep he could go, if Dean felt him all the way to his fingertips. He tore one hand off Dean's hip to stroke his cock.

Dean groaned low at the hard thrusts, breath huffing out while he moved against Sam's body. Feeling Sam so deep inside him, after wanting it for so long, was almost surreal. He desperately wanted to face Sam now, wanted to see him.

"Yeah, Dean. So hot. So perfect around me." Sam sped up his strokes, trying to coax Dean's orgasm from him. His wings began to move instinctively, covering Dean in soft touches from head to feet.

Dean tried to concentrate the feel of Sam, but the feathers fluttering over and around him distracted Dean enough that his body moved and reacted without conscious thought. "Sam," he moaned, shifting back again, "God, Sam."

"I love you, Dean," Sam groaned on a deep stroke. "More than life." He stuttered in the middle of his next thrust, balls tight against his body. "Come with me, Dean."

Dean couldn't deny Sam's request, coming hard. He cried out, head snapping back on a harsh breath when Sam's wing fluttered around his throat and trailed over his shoulder. "Oh fuck, Sam.”

Sam went with Dean, following after him as he had all his life. His big body shuddered with the intensity of the moment, the power of the emotions as well as the pleasure. The wings arched back, pulling tight behind him until they were almost painful. "Dean!"

Dean kept himself braced, trying his best to keep both himself and Sam from toppling to the ground. He could feel Sam inside him, pulsing and coming. A few moments later and he couldn't hold himself up, arms crumpling under him.

Sam's wings caught Dean and kept him from hitting the ground.  He fell back on his haunches, easing out of Dean and taking him into his arms.  The wings enfolded Dean again, as they fell into an embrace like before.  "Mine."

Dean rested against Sam, curling into him and nuzzling at his throat.  "Yours, Sammy.  Have always been yours."

Sam studied Dean in the moonlight- his sarcastic, strong, deep-down needy brother.  He wanted to preen over the idea that he was what Dean wanted and needed in the end.  The wings puffed out a little in pride, but remained wrapped around Dean.  "And I've been yours since dad handed me to you to carry to safety."


Sam appeared in the doorway of their bedroom, stretching his arms to the ceiling and yawning.  "Dude, this country air is really getting to me."  He wandered over to the bed he shared with Dean and flopped on his back, picking up his latest book.  "I'm glad that coven of witches turned out to be nothing but a bunch of teenagers playing with stuff they shouldn't have.  I don't know if I wanted to see you test your monogamy against a bunch of hot, spell-tossing women."

Dean chuckled low, eyes glued to the television, only peripherally aware of Sam dropping onto the bed.  Looking toward his brother, Dean sneered.  "Like you have to worry about witches, Sam.  I can't stand them, and you know it."  Dean turned back to the television, picking up a gun to clean.

Sam dropped a hand on Dean's left thigh and stroked absent-mindedly, eyes on his book.  "I don't know, man.  There was that coven in Massachusetts... they had you naked, bound and ready for more before Dad and I got to you."  He grinned and squeezed playfully.

Snorting, Dean shook his head.  "Dude, that was completely unwilling participation and you know it."  He turned for a quick look at Sam and then went back to his gun.  It was good to see his brother relaxed and laying around with him.  Laying around.  Dean whipped his head around and stared at Sam.  "Your wings.  Sam, where are your wings?"

"Wings?" Sam asked innocently, lifting his head to gaze at his brother with wide eyes.  His hand shifted upward to stroke over Dean's crotch, before squeezing hard.

Dean slit his eyes, staring at Sam and nodding.  "Yeah, your wings."  When Sam touched him, Dean tilted his head back on a moan.  He gripped the gun tighter, hips flexing into Sam's hand with a moan.  "No fair, distracting me."  Dean put the gun down, safely out of reach, and turned back to continue questioning Sam about the missing wings.

Sam fell gracefully to the mattress, dropped the book, and pulled Dean on top of him.  He caressed his brother's back in long swoops, even as he kissed him breathless.  His hips worked up into Dean's, encouraging the erection he felt forming.

Dean took up the rhythm, enjoying being over his brother now.  With Sam's wings, he'd not been able to do this.  He forgot them for the moment, with his brother under him and wanting more.  Instead, Dean broke the kiss and nibbled along Sam's jaw to his throat and then down his chest to swirl his tongue over Sam's nipples.  "Want you, Sam.  Always want you these days." 

Sam groaned at the tongue on his nipples and clutched at Dean's shoulders.  "Never get enough of this, Dean."  He spread his legs wider in quiet offering to Dean. 

Looking up the long length of tanned skin, Dean tugged Sam's boxers slowly down his hips and tossed them off the bed.

Sam smiled and whispered, "Let me see all of you, Dean."  He reached down and took himself in hand, stroking slowly.  "Want to jack off just looking at you."

"Dude."  Dean blushed, dipping his head to flick his tongue into Sam's navel.  "Wanna suck, you, Sammy."  But he pushed back from the bed, tossing his own boxer briefs off to the side with a grin.  He was already hard, and Dean took himself in hand and began to stroke his own cock to the sight of Sam jacking off.

"Yeah.  Just want to get warmed up, Dean.  Make myself nice and juicy for you."  Sam spread his legs further apart, bending them at the knees.  He gave Dean a show, working himself to a frenzy and then easing back down again. 

Dean matched Sam, stroke for stroke, fast and slow... his other hand alternating playing with his nipples and balls.  The sight of Sam getting so worked up left Dean breathless, tiny whimpers occasionally falling from his lips.

Sam watched Dean through slit eyes, before discontinuing the strokes.  "Suck me, Dean?  I want you to.  Love that plush, perfect mouth wrapped around me, pulling my release from me."  He crooked his finger in an obscene gesture for Dean to take him.

Chuckling low, Dean held back just a moment.  He released himself and crawled onto the bed, stalking up Sam's body to press a heated kiss to his lips before he slid back down to settle between Sam's thighs.  Dean bent his head and kissed each hip bone before curling one hand around Sam's cock and taking the head between his lips.

Sam sighed as Dean settled between his legs, reaching down to cradle his brother's head in his big hands.  "Yeah, Dean.  Love how you look between my legs.  Like you belong there."  He arched into the beautiful mouth, wanting to show Dean how much his touches enflamed him. 

Dean tilted his head and sucked Sam as far down as he could.  This angle made it a bit more difficult and made the head of Sam's cock hit the soft palate and push past his gag reflex.  Breathing out through his nose, Dean pulled up for a breath and stroked his hand up at the same time to give Sam the greatest amount of sensation he could.

Sam thrust lightly into the busy mouth, not wanting to hurt Dean.  He dragged his fingers through Dean's hair, scratching gently at the scalp.  "Yeahfuckyeah.  Dean.  Come on."

Dean sucked faster and harder, loving Sam's dirty talk and the encouragement he offered with his hands.  He reached down and curled his other fist around his cock and began to stroke himself in counterpoint to the way he worked Sam.

"Mmm, look at how hot you are for your baby brother's cock," Sam purred at Dean.  He settled back and allowed Dean to work them both for a few moments more, before pushing at him.  "My turn."

Moaning, Dean fought Sam long enough to get in a few more sucks and strokes before he sat back on his heels.  Sam's words were spot on- he was so hot for Sam's cock that he reached out and trailed his fingertips over the head.

Sam reared up to his knees and maneuvered Dean on his back, tucking one hand around his ass and the other on his stomach.  "Gonna fuck you so hard, Dean.  Want to hear you scream for me."  He leaned down to suck at the head of Dean's cock for a few tormenting moments, before reaching across the bed toward the nightstand and the omnipresent lube. 

"God, Sam.  Yeah, want that...want you to fuck me...fill me up.  "Please."  Dean arched helplessly into Sam's mouth and then whimper-moaned when his brother pulled away.  He turned his head and smiled when he saw the lube in Sam's hand.  Spreading his legs, Dean pulled them back toward his chest so Sam could reach him easily.

Sam laughed and pressed a wet kiss to Dean's belly, before slicking up a finger and sliding it straight into Dean without preamble.  "So hot for my cock, Dean."  He mouthed and nibbled at Dean's thighs while he worked the first finger around and then added a second.  "Let me in so easy now."

Dean groaned, back arching and head rolling on the bed.  Sam's fingers felt so good and yet were not enough.  He wanted to feel Sam's cock in there, sliding deep and hitting his prostate on every stroke. "Please, Sammy."

"Yeah, Dean.  Almost there.  Don't even need a third finger anymore.  You're all stretched and ready for me."  Sam scissored Dean wide open and then slicked up his own cock.  "Tell me how much you want me, Dean," he said, rubbing the head of his cock against Dean's ass.

“Want you every moment, Sam.” Dean groaned, pulling his legs back even more. “Please, Sam… want to feel you inside me.” He stared into Sam’s eyes, letting his brother see the want in his gaze.

Sam smacked Dean's ass lightly and pushed into Dean. He did not pause to let Dean adjust, knowing his brother liked to feel Sam ram all the way in. "Oh fuck, yeah," he breathed out, as his balls connected with Dean's ass.

Dean wrapped his legs around Sam's hips, ankles crossing to pull Sam even tighter to his body. "Sam," he breathed the word harshly, throat arching while he clamped around his brother.

Leaning down and pulling Dean's head up, Sam kissed him for a long, sensual moment, keeping his lower body still. "How about if I just sit here, impaling you, hmm? Until we forget that we're two separate beings." He wiggled his hips from side to side.

Dean groaned and dropped his head back to the bed. He lifted his hips, arching into the contact. "Please, Sam. Don't tease me."

"Why not?" Sam asked, wiggling some more. "Don't you like to feel me deep inside you, Dean? Touching every part of you." He ran his hands over Den's chest, twisting his nipples.

"God, Sam." Dean writhed under him, trembling under his touch. "I love it... but want more. Always, more."

Sam slid his hands down to grasp Dean's hips firmly. "Then you'll have more." He pulled all the way out and then slammed back in with a thrust that made the bed smash into the wall.

"Fuck, yeah." Dean reached over his head, braced his hands on the headboard in order to thrust back against Sam. He groaned and tipped his head back, panting and gripping Sam tight.

Sam paused again, deep and secure inside Dean. He stroked his sides and ass, calm and easy. Mouth twisting into an evil smile, he suddenly pulled back and slammed in and out of Dean five times in rapid succession.

Dean thrust up and down, meeting every stroke of Sam's with a thrust of his own. He keened, hands slipping from the headboard to form fists and pound on the mattress when Sam went still again.

"Like that, Dean?" Sam asked, panting lightly, but amused at his brother's frustration. "Want more of that?" He pulled out slowly and took up a series of slow, deep thrusts, hitting Dean's prostate on each leisurely pass.

"Oh yeah, just like that, Sam." Dean arched his back, uncurled his fists and braced his open palms against the headboard to rock into Sam's slow, gentle thrusts.

Sam caught the pace and kept it, wanting to drag out their climax as long as possible. Anytime he felt himself get close, he recited Latin verses in his head until he could keep the urge under control again. His hands stroked and patted Dean, finally settling on his cock.

"Please," Dean keened, trying to push Sam deeper.

Sam took pity on the desperation in Dean's eyes, the way his voice hit a new register. "Yeah. All right." He released Dean's cock for a moment to stroke his belly gently and then took up a driving race to the finish. His strong hips whip-cracked, dragging him in and out of Dean's ass. "Show me how much you want this," he gasped.

Dean didn't know what else he could do to show Sam how badly he wanted to be fucked through the wall. He gripped Sam's hip with one hand, the other curling behind his head, delving into his hair and pulling him into a fiery kiss.

Sam growled into the kiss, grabbing Dean's cock and jerking him off rough and fast. He could barely tell when he pushed in and pulled out, as each movement sent pleasure coursing through his nerves. The release hit him mid-stroke, and he threw his head back to howl. His wings burst through his shoulder blades, expanded to their full span, smashing a lamp and brushing the ceiling.

Head rolling on the pillow, Dean squeezed his eyes shut when Sam's hard stroking of his cock matched the gliding over his prostate. It all combined to send Dean flying, falling over the edge and coming hard between them, coating Sam's hand.

"Ohowfuckyeah," Sam slurred, nearly blacking out from the combined bliss and pain. He slumped forward on Dean, wings collapsing into a protective arch around them.

When Sam slumped forward, Dean brought his arms up to curl around him and encountered the softness of Sam's wings. His eyes flew open while he slowly stroked over them, looking from Sam to the wings and back again. "Sam? The wings...they're back."

Sam laughed a little breathlessly and pressed a kiss to Dean's neck. "You're very observant, Dean."

Scowling, Dean stroked the feathers again and then brought his fingers down to tickle Sam's sides. "You kept distracting me when I noticed them missing." He took a beat and then smiled at Sam. "Does this mean you finally figured out how to control them... or, well, almost control them?"

Sam grinned and nodded enthusiastically at Dean, without separating their bodies. "I've been getting better and better at controlling them and today, I was thinking how nice it would be if I could just tuck them away so nobody could see them and... I did." His laugh was joyous, freed from the last of the burden. "You and I don't have to hide anymore. We can hunt together, travel together, hold hands on the street."

"Yeah?" Dean beamed at the best news he'd received since Sam told him he loved him. "Sounds like a damn good deal to me, Sammy."