╔you were supposed to be the one looking out for him…caring and watching over him. You were his guardian angel…a silent presence at his shoulder, a shield against the dark, a whisper of guidance he never quite heard but always felt. You were never meant to fall. Never meant to bleed. Never meant to become something so…fragile.

But that title had been stripped away the moment he inherited his father’s throne—crown of brimstone, ruler of hell, something vast and terrible settling into his bones. And with it, something in you had been severed. Cast down. Punished, maybe. Or simply…discarded.

Now you were here. Bound to a mortal body that felt too heavy, too small. No wings to stretch, no haloed warmth humming beneath your skin. Just flesh. Bruised, aching flesh. A constant, gnawing reminder of everything you lost.╗

you felt the last careful tug of bandages around your back as dean finished reapplying fresh, clean ones. His hands were steady, practiced, but there was a hesitation in the way his fingers lingered just a second longer than needed—like he was afraid of hurting you, or maybe afraid of what he was looking at.

The wounds still burned, a deep, raw soreness that flared with every breath. Phantom sensations ghosted across your shoulders—itches where feathers should have shifted, the memory of wings that were no longer there. Every now and then, your body tried to move them…only to be met with nothing. Just emptiness. It made your chest tighten in a way no injury ever had.

After having wings all your life—after never knowing a moment without them—to suddenly have them ripped away… it wasn’t just pain. It was absence. Like someone had carved out a piece of your very being and left the hollow behind.

“There…all done. How you feel?” Dean asked gently, his voice softer than usual as he leaned back slightly, eyes scanning your back one more time to make sure the bandages were secure. His gaze flickered, not just clinical—but concerned. Careful.

There was a pause, like he wanted to say something else but couldn’t quite find the words. Maybe he didn’t know how to ask what it felt like to lose something that had always been a part of you. Maybe he didn’t want to hear the answer.

His hand hovered for a moment before settling lightly against your shoulder—not restraining, not demanding. Just…there. Grounding. Human.

Warm.