f e a t h e r s

shatteredhunter:

The boy’s words seemed surprisingly sincere — could it be possible that he was merely just a boy with wings? It wouldn’t be the strangest thing he’d come across. Either way, he’d yet to pose a threat, and so Dean had yet to retrieve a gun or blade from his form. Not just yet, he told himself.
His tone resounded with truth, and if he was being honest, Dean could easily empathise with the whole ‘being downgraded by a father’ situation. He merely nodded his head in acknowledgement, deciding not to remark on it. If all this was fact, he could already imagine the boy felt awkward enough explaining himself as is.
”I suppose y’get that a lot, huh? The whole angel thing?” He presumed, a sympathetic smile twitching at the corners of the hunter’s lips. This was no monster, but a boy nothing short of innocent.
”Oh, believe you me, not all angels are almighty and beautiful. The minority fit those criteria, actually.” Upon saying the words, he realised this gave away that he knew of their existence, but he didn’t dwell on it. He wasn’t exactly talking to any average person, after all.

_{“You….know angels?” He asked, his emotions muddled between if he should believe him, or if the man was saying so in another sense. Angels could mean anyone with beauty, or a saint with a graceful soul. Sam gave the other the benefit of the doubt, though, and went with the accusation he knew real angels.
If he could have wings, why couldn’t there be angels?

“I do—- get that a lot, I mean.” The avian-boy glanced back up to meet the green orbs of the other. “And believe it or not, it’s not exactly…. the best thing.” A smile was given from the corner of his lips, trying to ease the situation out of the uncomfortable topic he was sharing with one he just met. He didn’t even know the guys name.

"I’m Sam,“ he rushed, his wings settling back down into place. "Sam Roplen.”

Before anymore words could be spoken, three men dressed in black sprung from hidden crevices, with a variety of knives and guns strapped to their forms. The sudden movement made Sam jump. The feeling of being scared quickly morphed into anger, which drew his brows together. “Not again…” he mumbled under his breath, his muscles coiled as one of the men drew a knife from his belt.

Sam glanced behind him at the green-eyed man, an apologetic tone to his voice. “I’m so sorry. I get this….wherever I go. People are always trying to kill me.” He turned back to the three men dressed in black. “But these people—-they are constant visitors.” His words dripped with venom. At the same moment he brought his wings out to their full span of ten and a half feet.

He raised them above his head, not being able to admire the way the sun glinted off his feathers, giving a golden shine. With all the force he could, Sam brought his wings down and out, the powerful gust knocking the three men off their feet and flat on their backs.

"—-RUN!“}