Destiel One Shots

The Angel and The Wings (Part 1)

A/N: Yes I know one shots aren't supposed to be split into two parts because then it isn't really a one shot.

*not read through yet so there might be some typos. I'll fix them tomorrow*

Please deal with it :)

Enjoy <3

Shout out to Mariah for helping me come up with the general idea of the story <3 

Dean opened the door to his Impala and stood up, looking at the sky as he closed the door behind him. There were thousands of stars out tonight, twinkling and dancing in the Moon's light. Dean frowned and ran a hand down his face, huffing out a sigh of stress. A crisp wind blew across the field that he was parked in, making the tall grass bristle against each other. 

He walked away from the Impala, going about 30 feet or so. Dean tried to clear his head of all his current problems, including the number one problem that was making his arm throb. Dean sat down slowly and rested his arms around his knees, curling them to his chest. He needed to stay away from Sam. He needed to stay away from Cass. He needed to keep them safe.

He closed his eyes tightly and buried his face in his knees, gritting his teeth as he tried to calm himself down. His mind was screaming, images of him killing people flashing through his mind. He clenched his jaw tightly and tried to breath slowly, but they just seemed to be getting more intense. He could feel his hand twitch, aching for the rustic blade. The mark was making him go insane and he didn't know if he could fight it off for much longer.

He felt a steamy tear slide down his right cheek and he screamed loudly, his hand moving without his permission and slamming into the dirt. He crouched, staring at the ground where his hand left an imprint. His eyes widened and he just felt his chest ache more. He had been trying so hard to keep under control, to not let Sammy and Cass know how badly he was being effected by it. But they kept asking him the same damn question every day.

"How are you doing?" and "Are you okay?" and every other annoying question they could ask. And he would always tell them the same thing. "I'm fine." and then he would walk off. Dean grimaced. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep up the macho act for much longer. He groaned in frustration and stood up. He went to go walk a bit further when he froze in his spots. He stared at the man across from him. 

Except for, the problem was, the man that was across from him was him. He was as tall as him, but his hair was parted differently. He was wearing a plaid over shirt and some dark blue jeans. He smirked at him, his eyes a glistening black.

"Hiya Dean," the man grinned, his eyes turning back to normal. Dean grabbed his gun out of the back of his pocket. The man laughed. "Put that away. It can't hurt me. I'm in your head bucko." he smiled as he tapped his temple.

"No," Dean groaned. "No, no, no! Go away!"

"See," demon Dean sighed. "I can't do that. Look, I'm down for burying myself in booze, pie, and porn as much as the next guy is, but you know that you're just avoiding the inevitable." he said, adding a bit of a growl towards the end. 

"No," Dean said. "No, you're wrong. I can fight this. I will fight this."

Demon Dean laughed deeply. "Dean, every living man that has had the mark has always given into it." Demon Dean started to walk in circles around Dean. "Hell, Cain even gave into it! And that was after centuries of fighting it!" demon Dean said exasperatedly. He stopped and looked at Dean. "What makes you think that you're so special?"