Supernatural: Fallen Son

Back at the Ranch

'I'm fine, Dean.' Groaned Sam irritably, putting his head in his hands and exhaling loudly in frustration. 'No. That's not true. We need to get you to a hospital or something.' His brother replied, anxiety in his voice - and a bottle of beer just below his face. 'Can't we at least wait until this angel thing blows over? If we go to hospital now, who knows what'll happen? There could be hundreds, if not thousands of the bastards just winging about!' Sam exclaimed over the ringing headache in his ears. Dean took another swig of the beer.
Sam opened his laptop, and stared down at the screen. Its light flared up in his vision, and he winced. Clicking a few keys and then 'enter' - he looked back up at his brother. 'Anyway. I think I got us a case!' He semi-slurred. Dean snapped his head back up. 'Oh no. You are not going back out there until, as you say, this angel thing blows over.'

Sam ignored this using his powers of brotherly love, and started to monologue to Dean about the case. 'Okay. Something fell out of the sky in a small town--' He started. 'Yeah. It's called an angel. You see what I mean?' Dean interrupted almost immediately.
'No, just let me finish. This town was Roswell. As in - alien spaceship Roswell - and... after this, the locals say that they were chased away from the scene by the Men in Black.'
Dean's brow quirked. 'Did they look like Will Smith?'
Sam smiled slightly. 'It says here that their skin was pale and plasticky, and they were completely identical in looks. They were around 8 foot tall, and one of the witnesses even said that they had red eyes.'
'What? So, we're thinking demon?' Said Dean.
'Hmm. Possibly. I think that this might actually be something new. Apparently the thing that fell from the sky was covered in Norse symbols - and was glowing bright blue before the men took it away. They said that they were FBI.' Sam replied.
Dean shrugged exaggeratedly in protest - 'That's our job!'
Sam chuckled. 'So, you wanna go hunt Tommy Lee Jones?' Dean's smile instantly evaporated. 'No, Sam. I'll go. You're staying here. Watch some Netflix or something. Have a shower - the water pressure's excellent.'

Sam growled in annoyance. 'Fine. But, Dean, I'm coming on the next case unless I'm physically dead, okay?' He said, his voice gravelly with dejection.

Around 20 minutes later - Sam was slumped on the leathery sofa in the bunker. A TV remote sat between his sweaty, feverish fingers - and a tub of aspirin pills sat on his lap like a friendly little companion. Scrolling down the homepage for Netflix, Sam selected 'Grimm', and sat back. His mobile phone began to vibrate impatiently on the table. He picked it up in one foul swoop, and pressed it to his ear. 'Yes, Dean?' He spoke.

'Heya Sam. When I said watch Netflix, I kinda meant find out what the hell we're dealing with here.' Dean snarked from the other end of the phone. A headache pulsed through Sam's brain, but he started to slowly shuffle his way towards the library.