Solidarity

Extended Wings

Dean pushed a hand through his hair, looking around at all the destruction. Trees littered the forest floor, broken and splintered into pieces. The grass was brown and dead, contrasting harshly against the lush green tuffs only a few yards out. The whole aura of the place was just... off. Everything seemed off. Dean's wandering eyes finally landed on the dilapidated man in the middle of all the carnage. Dean and Sam shared a concerned glance before they both made their way over to the man, Sam with a bit more hesitation. "Are uh... are you okay there, Buddy?" Dean asked, crouching down in front of the man. "What happened to you?" He leaned in close, looking the man over. He was fairly handsome and appeared to be somewhere in his late twenties. There was blood pooling from a wound in his head and the entirety of his exposed, toned torso seemed to be covered in small gashes and bruises. Such a small amount of damage compared to the surrounding landscape. 

The unknown man looked up, his vison foggy. His ears were ringing and the voices above him just sounded like the annoying buzz of a fly. "W-what..." he mumbled, his voice deep and monotone. He had no recollection of what happened. "W-where am I?" he moved away from Dean, pushing himself back in the mud with his hands.

Dean shook his head and put his hands up in the air innocently. "Woah there, Tiger," he mumbled, bouncing on his heels as he remained crouched. "We're just trying to help. We found you here like this."

Sam jumped in, his EMF detector out, but no frequency was being picked up. "Do you have an idea what did this to you?" Sam was always quick to get down to business. That's how a Winchester should be. Dean had grown too soft over the years.... "Must have been something pretty big," Sam continued.

The man shook his sore head, sitting up a little as the nausea faded away. "I-I don't know," he mumbled, rubbing his head. "I-I don't remember..." He looked to Dean before looking down at the ground. "W-who are you both?" his voice was choppy and stiff, as if he hadn't spoken in months.  

Dean looked to Sam and bit his lip, letting the awkward silence between them become uncomfortable before he spoke again. "I'm Dean." he put a hand on his chest before motioning over to Sam. "That's my brother, Sam." He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck, his face twisted in awkward puzzlement. "So uh... Who are you?" That was the real question. Who was this weirdo in the middle of the mowed down crop circle and what kind of probing had he undergone... Anal?

The dazed stranger furrowed his brows, pondering the simple question. "Who... Who am I...." he whispered, blinking slowly. This was some existential crisis shit. He had no clue who he was or where he was or why he was where he was and why he had no clue who he was.... ahhhhhh. He was silent for a disproportioned amount of time, before he finally answered. "I am unsure."

Sam sighed and rubbed his face. "Something is fishy here, Dean. I feel it. We should take him with us to Bobby's. Maybe the man will know something." He looked around still, seemingly hypnotized by all the uncanny destruction. There was no monster who could do that. No demon who had the power to wipe out a whole section of forest. And what demon would want to? Why destroy the land but not the man in the middle of it? There were so many questions that needed to be answered and plot holes that needed filling. 

Dean looked back over his shoulder at his brother and nodded slowly. "That sounds like a good idea," He mumbled, pushing himself up off the ground. He looked down to the man, giving him a quick once over. There was something about him. Something... appealing that Dean just couldn't shake. He sighed and helped the man up, grunting as the adult males dead weight fell against him. He huffed and lifted him bridal style, looking down as the man passed out cold. "Poor guy," he mumbled. "Didn't even know what hit him."

Dean was holding an Angel in his arms. And he would have known that too if he had only turned around and noticed the imprint slowly disappearing in the country mud. The imprint of extended wings.