Devil With a Smile

Leaving

You burst through the door, creating a noise that, judging from Jack's jumping out of his chair and reaching for a weapon, was apparently loud.

"Christ, Jesse, why would you-" He takes one look at your face and freezes hands dropping to his sides. Before he can ask, your hands are moving with such intensity that he has to tell you to restart twice before he understands.

"Hunters? Where? What happened?"

"Here, now! I saw them! They know we're here, we need to leave NOW."

"Are you sure they're hunters?"

Nodding frantically you try to explain what happened without giving too much away. Jack has been part of your family for a few years now, but you and Cas never explained to him why you were alone, he only knows that you had a bad run in with some hunters years ago and lost your second father.

"I saw them in town, they were definitely hunters; they smelled like gunpowder and silver. I think they knew what I was." Jack doesn't ask questions, only nods as he throws clothes in a bag he's somehow already started packing. You stand there, limbs still shaking as you watch him move across the small apartment, ignoring the random small stuff you've accumulated over your time living here, exactly as Cas taught you to leave it in case of emergency so he'll know what happened.

Your reflection in the mirror catches your eye and you turn your head to stare at yourself; you note the panic in your eyes, the way your limbs shake, how your wings are out as wide as they can in the small space and you know from the way the feathers are moving that they're rattling.

Dean had been the one to bring it up to you. After one of your PTSD attacks, he'd told you that they could always tell when something was getting to be too much for you by your wings. When you felt safe, your wings were relaxed and droopy; when you were uncomfortable they were either spread out a little, or completely hidden in the scars on your back, but when you were scared or trying to intimidate someone the feathers would shake,  apparently making a sound akin to that of a snake's rattle. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you force them to stop, watching as they fold in on themselves in order to become small enough to fit in the scars. it hurts a little, to be honest, but it's the sort of pain you get used to after a short amount of time and you no longer flinch at the tugging and pulling sensation.

Heading to your room, you pack as quick as you can, trying not to leave anything that might help them identify you. Sadness pierces your heart as you stand in front of your bookshelves. You run a hand along the books, trying to muster up the courage to pick some and leave the others. You know books are replaceable, but it never feels that way, does it? Even if you get a copy exactly like the one you lost, it doesn't hold the same memories, it won't feel as special as the one in your room right now.

You always knew it wouldn't last long, this peace. But knowing that doesn't make it any less painful. The lights flickering alerts you to Jack's impatience and you turn to the shelf of your favorite books, throwing as many as you can in your bags. When Jack's hand circle your wrist, pulling it away from where it's trying to force the books to fit. He shakes his head gently at you, telling you that you can't take that many.

You tell him to get in the car and leave, saying that you'll follow soon. He leaves hesitantly. You turn back to the books, to the worlds you have to leave behind.

You know the tears pricking behind your eyes are unwarranted. They probably aren't even from having to leave your stories behind. At least, they're not ALL from it.

You head to the garage after putting most of the books back. You placed them perfectly, too perfectly. Typically, you'd shelve series in backwards order (5, 4, 3, 2, 1, you didn't know where you'd learned it, it just felt right), but this time you'd done it: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, it was your way of telling Cas that something had made you leave, but you weren't in so much of a hurry that they were right on your tail. As you near the garage, the ground starts to vibrate gently under your feet, letting you know that a car's started. As it's a familiar rumble, you don't pull out a knife, instead stomping to the door and throwing it open.

"Why the fuck are you still here?!" Your brother sends you puppy dog eyes as he says he was waiting for you, and moves to the side waiting for you to enter the car.

"You didn't have to wait, I'm not going in the car."

"Yes, you are."

"Jack."

"Get in the car!"

"No, I can fly-"

"NO! If they know what you are, they'll be watching the skies, it's not safe! Just get in the car!" He doesn't move toward you, but you know he knows he's won.

You sigh all of your breath out as you stalk toward the vehicle, causing Jack to roll his eyes as he prepares to shut you in the hidden compartment under the car. being the angel he is, he waits, giving you a minute to calm your nerves before he closes you in the dark, cramped space.