Neal Caffrey one shots | White Collar

Don't let them burn your wings [Dark!Neal] {wings part two.five}

{A/N} | This is part 2.5 of the wings series. It can be read as stand-alone. It's an alternate ending that my mind came up with when trying to write part three. This part didn't happen in part three, which will be a direct continuation of part two.

Neal never expected to let Peter in on his secret in such a drastic way. Honestly, he should have expected it. Something always had to go wrong when he wanted to come clean.

For three weeks, Neal had been following the FBI agent. Every time Neal came close to revealing himself, to tell his friend he was alive, something came between them.

The first time Neal had gotten a call from Mozzie and when he looked up again, Peter had disappeared into the FBI building.

The second time Neal almost got hit by a car while crossing the street, forcing him to slink back into the crowd when Peter turned at the commotion.

The third time Neal tried to do it through the phone. He had the device in his hand, number on the screen ready to be called when Mozzie walked in and started rambling on about how he shouldn't 'come back from the dead' through a phone call.

So maybe that hadn't been the smartest idea but he was running out of options.

If he'd foreseen the way it would actually happen he wouldn't have gone through all the trouble before.

Neal was standing in the shadows, watching Peter and El walk through a deserted street. He'd been following them all evening, watching their date through the windows of the restaurant. He couldn't leave.

Something kept him there that evening, watching from the shadows of the alley as four hooded figures stepped out into the light of the streetlamp. They were all wearing different coloured masks and guns were visible in their hands.

Neal clenched his fists, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as anger pumped through his veins. He closed his eyes, focussing on his friends. The fear wafting off of them, the rising of their heartbeats. And finally, their screams as Peter was knocked to the floor and tied up.

One of the men stalked towards El, the smell of arousal wafting off of him.

Neal saw red.

The blue t-shirt he wore ripped apart as his wings unfurled, feathers curling until they were at their largest. A growl-like sound tore from his throat as he stepped out of the alley.

The streetlighting illuminated his form, making his wings look black. With two powerful flaps of his wings, he was standing next to Peter's beaten form.

The group hadn't noticed him yet, crowding around El's frightened figure as she cowered against a wall of a closed store.

"Let. Her. Go."

His voice wasn't one he recognised, laced with such venom it could've made a hole in the ground.

He clenched his fists again, dimly aware of his nails growing into claws.

Their heads turned and Neal could smell the instant fear in the air. El let out a frightened sound. The man holding her pressed his knife against her neck on instinct.

At the sight, Neal stretched his wings so that their shadows cast threateningly over the four men.

Two of the other men raised their guns, fingers pressing the triggers furiously.

The smell of gunpowder filled the air and dust arose between them.

Neal cocked his head, a bored expression on his face as the bullets hit his skin. They bounced off easily, falling on the ground in front of him.

The grin of a maniac etched its way onto his face as he cracked his knuckles. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Are you the Devil?" the one holding El whispered. In the streetlight, his cross necklace glimmered, peeking out from underneath his yellow mask.

Neal stepped closer, the tips of his wings grazing the ground. The ground shook with every step he took and the men quivered in fear.

El watched, her eyes wide with fear and disbelief. Tears shone in her eyes but she didn't move a muscle. The knife was still too close to her neck and Neal fixed his glare on the man holding it.

"I'm worse."

Neal could feel the blood coursing through the man's veins, could feel the heartbeat, every single vein where blood coursed through to the muscles in his hand. With a single tilt of his head, the man's hand was crushed by unseen forces.

The man screamed, doubling over and clutching his hand.

The knife fell to the ground, the sound drowned out as the man crumbled to the floor.

One of the men sent a prayer and Neal fixed his gaze on him next.

The man tried shooting Neal again, only this time the bullets didn't leave the gun.

A single clench of Neal's fist and the bullet exploded inside the gun, taking the man along in its destruction, leaving only a part of his red mask behind.

"Please," one of the remaining two whispered. "I promise to never hurt anyone again." He dropped his gun and raised his hands, dropping to the ground on his knees.

The other man, seemingly thinking that Neal's attention was now on his partner, decided to make a run for it.

Neal raised his hand, forcing the man to stop in his tracks, literally frozen as Neal slowly squeezed.

"Why should I let you go?" Neal tilted his head back to the man on his knees. "You were willing to hurt these innocent people without hesitation."

"Please," the man sobbed, eyes never leaving Neal's feet.

Behind him, his partner made choking noises.

Neal relaxed his hold on the man's body to let him breathe, before crushing his airpipe.

His body fell limply to the floor. His head, covered in a blue mask hit the floor as last.

The man in front of him whimpered and Neal bent down so he could whisper in his ear.

"No one will believe you."

And with that, he broke the man's legs with a single snap of his fingers.

The feathers on his wings ruffled as the man screamed but Neal drowned him out.

His eyes fixed on Peter, who was staring back at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

Neal looked back at El, who was watching him with the same expression, a hand covering her mouth.

He clenched his fists again. He knew that look. It was a look of pure horror.

He moved his wings, allowing them to lift him in the air.

"I'm sorry." He said before he flew away.