Broken Wings (Destiel)

Chapter Nine

"You really thought you could kill two angels and get away with it?"

Dean turned around. Before him stood a female angel. She had light brown hair tied back, and her manicured hand grasped a blade.

Dean prayed to Jack, hoping it would go through. "Well technically I didn't kill them. I was just a bystander! Honest mistake."

Dean slowly stepped back as the angel stepped forwards. His hand made its way to the pocket of his jacket, an angel blade was still there after Castiel's rescue.

Just as he whipped it out she ran toward him, pinning him against the shelves. Her forearm pinned his chest painfully hard."You'll regret helping your boyfriend." She sneered.

Deans breath hitched as her hand wrapped around his throat. "I don't think.. I will." Deans voice croaked as she squeezed.

His right hand was around her arm, while his left still had the blade. He was losing oxygen, but he still had some strength.

He quickly brought the blade up to her neck, and just as she noticed it, he stabbed her in the side of her windpipe.

Both the angel and Dean came crashing onto the floor. The angel fell onto her back, drawing back a shaky breath, before finally dying. Her eyes and mouth flashed bright white, and the outlines of her broken wings lay on the aisle.

Deans hand grabbed on of the shelves as he hoisted himself up. He felt numb. He gingerly touched his throat, thankful that there was only one angel.

Remembering that he still needed to get food, he grabbed a frozen pizza from the other side of the aisle. He didn't even think of the fact they didn't have an oven. He just wanted out of the store.

The hunter passed the jostled clerk without a second look, covering his face with his hood.

As soon as he left the clerk grabbed his phone, calling up his friend.

"Some lumberjack and fairy just fought to the death."

*
Dean walked into the motel room and threw the pizza on the small, rusty coffee table.

He saw Jack sleeping on the second bed while Sam was sprawled out on the couch. The bed where Cas lay was covered in blood but there was no sign of him.

Dean felt terrified. Cas was hurt, and it was hard to defend yourself with two shredded wings holding you down.

He immediately went to the bathroom, hoping to find him there.

Carefully opening the door, relief washed over him as he saw a hunched over angel in the bathtub.

He closed the door behind him, but Cas didn't even look up.

Dean knelt beside the bathtub. "How you doing Cas?"

Cas lifted his head. It was covered in scrapes. While the bad ones looked patched up, Dean knew it must hurt like a bitch.

Castiel had obviously been crying. "It hurts, Dean."

That signal sentence wanted to make Dean break down too. All of Castiel's pain, all of his misfortune, he felt it on his shoulders. He loved Cas, and it was breaking him.

Dean hung his head. "I know, Cas."