The Winged: Rectifications of Fate (Supernatural X Reader X Avengers)

Concursion

The parking lot rumbled with the approaching sound of someone running in heavy shoes. Regardless, none of the Avengers cared enough to take their eyes off you.

Although it felt like years, only a few seconds had passed before Sam and Dean were standing right below you, trying to make sense of what was happening before them.

"Maira?" Sam called out to divert your attention when nothing else came to mind.

That seemed to snap you back into reality. "Yeah, as much fun as this has been," You addressed the Earth's Mightiest Heroes, "I am kind of in the middle of something here."

Dropping down low enough so that each of the Winchesters could grab either hand, you took off, leaving them outside the structure and by the Impala to facilitate your pursuit.

You tried hard, you really did, but the night sky was making it almost impossible to identify the black smoke. Your feet landed heavily on the ground and the Impala screeched to a halt merely inches behind you, the sound efficaciously covering up the string of curse words flowing out of your mouth.

"I lost it." You hopped up onto the hood of the car, folding your wings behind your back and pulling your knees to your chest. Your eyes searched the inky black sky as if you somehow still stood the chance to discern the demonic entity flying around.

Then, without even turning your head, you asked, "Dean, who were those people back at Malik's place?"

Dean groaned and sank back into his seat, pushing the heels of his palms over his eyes. "I knew we should never have come to New York."

-

"Come on, you have to tell me!" Albeit the drive back home was exhausting, you seemed to have taken none of the effect.

"I don't have to tell you anything." Dean dodged your advancing form, attempting to carry his burger back to the hall table with safety. "Besides, like I said, I don't know."

"They knew something. Didn't you see the way they were looking at me?" You had no intention of giving up.

"I think that was because you literally had wings sprouting out of your back and were flying." Dean pretended to have lost interest in the conversation and was now devouring the burger with his eyes.

"No, not that. They were looking at me like...like they were looking at a dead person. Sam saw it, didn't you?" You were desperate to convince at least one of the brothers and bring him over to your side.

"I really have no idea what you're talking about, Maira." Sam lied through his teeth.

"Fine, be like that." You stomped over to the nearest exit, which just so happened to be the entry to one of the bunker's numerous labyrinthine corridors. "But before you eat that burger, just know that I sneezed on it."

A very scrumptious bite of the dish fell out of Dean's mouth and Sam laughed at his brother's commiserative state while trying to pick as much lettuce on his fork as possible off his salad.

"I sneezed on that too."

-

You figured the guys knew more than they were letting on. Consequently, you snuck out one of Sam's spare laptops and were now staring at an empty search box.

A 'look', however suggestive it might have been, wasn't evidentiary proof of anything, really. But there was something else. Something that had sent practically every alarm in your head blaring - the mention of the name (Y/N).

You hadn't said anything but you remembered that name. It was the name Dean had used to address you the first time he met you at a bar, two years ago. You hadn't responded because that was not your name, but you were certain he was calling out to you.

And now a bunch of people you had just met used the same name to speak to you? It couldn't have been a coincidence.

Having absolutely no clue where to begin your search, you typed the descriptions of the people you remembered seeing, hoping to hit home.

'Red and gold flying metal man.'

The screen flooded with information about some Tony Stark. "Well, he's got pretty eyes." You admired his picture, "Too bad he's useless."

'Metal arm.'

That just led you to a plethora of information about bionic limbs. You sighed.

'Very patriotic man with a very patriotic sheild.'

Nothing. You were about to give up when an image on the corner of the screen caught your eye. It wasn't a picture, but a sketch with an uncanny resemblance to a man you had seen in the parking lot.

You clicked on the link and scrolled down until you found a very specific word that was sure to yield more particulars than a rusty description ever would.

"Alright Steven Grant Rogers," You smiled as you typed the name in, "What can you tell me about (Y/N)?"