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

The Beginning of The End

"MAIRA!" Dean yelled at the top of his lungs, causing his voice to resonate throughout the bunker.

"Coming." You basically sang your way from the kitchen to the hall, holding the pie you had just baked over your head as if it were some sort of an esteemed award.

As you set his favourite food in front of him, Dean stared at you as if it was the last time he would ever get to see you.

He still remembered the day so clearly, it might as well have happened yesterday. It was fifteen months after your death, or presumed death now that he knew better, when he had stumbled into a bar after another tiring hunt. He had overindulged himself in those - his own very unhealthy coping mechanism for a significant loss.

Dean's feet had stopped short when he saw a very familiar face, your face, sitting aloof at a corner table. He wondered whether it was an illusion, if his mind was playing tricks on him, but it wasn't and he knew that as soon as he felt Sam's body go rigid behind him.

He had seen you too.

Discarding every possibility of danger from it being a shifter, a demon, a ghost or anything else one would come across in their line of work he plucked up just as much courage as required to shoot an archangel, if not more, and sat down on the table closest to you; readily followed by Sam.

"(Y/N)?" Dean was sure his lips had made sound but you didn't so much as even glance in his direction. He called out your name again. No answer.

"Hi. I'm Sam." Before Dean could stop him or even react, his younger brother had went ahead and taken a seat opposite to you, his hand extended out for you to take.

Your eyes surveyed him, top to bottom, as if to pick out any sign of threat from his appearance. Apparently, you didn't find any because in a matter of seconds you were shaking Sam's hand with a smile gracing your lips. "Maira."

(Pronounced Ma-ye-rah)

That was two years ago.

A lot had changed since then. Sam and Dean had broken all connection with the Avengers. They still blamed them for your death, even though you didn't technically die.

Sam had run himself into the ground, reading lore after lore before finding out that The Winged couldn't die of natural causes or be killed before they achieved their full fledged Winged form  - which would be twenty six years in human time. He eventually figured you were put back where you were supposed to be, only without the unnecessary memories taking up the space in your head; which you always attributed to some vague car accident.

The icing on top of the cake was that you already were a hunter. Interests aligned and before you knew it, you were over at the bunker so much, you practically lived there!

"You do realise what you're eating is sugary poison?" Sam passed a I'm-superior-than-you-because-i-eat-salad glance at Dean and earned a well deserved incinerating glare from Dean and you.

"Gimme!" You snatched Sam's laptop away from him, rendering him to face the grave consequences of his actions. Well, words, to be precise.

"Wow, isn't that the New York skyline?" You marvelled at the laptop's wallpaper. No sooner than you had uttered the words, you felt Dean's posture tense up. He always did that at the mention of New York, or anything related.

Regardless, you continued, "I wish we could go there."

"Over my dead body you will!" Dean violently stood up, his tone loud enough for you to physically flinch.

Your eyes were darting between the untouched pie and Dean stomping his way to his room  when you felt Sam's arm wrap around your shoulder. You willingly sunk into his torso.

"It's okay." He consoled, "I'll talk to him once he calms down." Albeit he said the words, if it was up to him, he'd never let you step foot in New York either.

A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you for reading, obviously. Also, for your new name I wanted something which was unique yet exotic. If any one of you is still named Maira (which, I hope not) I'm sorry :(