The old church stood abandoned on the outskirts of town, its once-grand facade now crumbling and covered in ivy. Dean Winchester pulled up in the Impala, his instincts alert as he surveyed the eerie building. Rumors had circulated about a fallen angel, and he was here to investigate. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he was ready for anything.

He stepped inside, the air heavy with dust and decay. The sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the floor. Dean’s footsteps echoed as he moved cautiously through the nave, his hand resting on the hilt of his knife.

As he approached the altar, he noticed something strange—an aura of faint, shimmering light that seemed out of place in the dim surroundings. His heart raced, and he followed the light until he reached a hidden alcove. There, lying on the ground, was a figure.

Dean’s breath caught in his throat. The figure was a young woman, her wings—once majestic—now tattered and folded against her back. She was unconscious, her face pale and her clothes tattered. Dean knelt beside her, his concern evident as he gently checked for signs of life.