A/N: This is my first story in quite a long time, and my first multi-chaptered fiction. This chapter is mostly set-up, but hopefully you will enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Don't own, I'm merely playing in Kripke's sandbox.

SPN

"What ya doing, twerp?"

Dean watched with measure of amusement as his brother instantly darted forwards, hand reaching for the remote. Nimbly, he snatched it away, twirling it between his fingers, grinning cheerfully at Sam. The returning glare could curdle milk.

"I'm trying to watch something for school, so give that back, jerk."

Dean tutted loudly and threw his gaze to the television. Some discovery channel crap was playing, a badly animated model of DNA replicating revolving slowly on screen to a droning monotone narrative.

"Sam, you know this stuff already." He could see Sam's mouth opening for an argument and continued swiftly. "I know you do, 'cause you gave Dad the whole low-down yesterday at breakfast." And Dean knew that had been because his 12 year old brother had gotten a good mark on his test. He'd be straight lying through his teeth is he said he wasn't proud of his dorky little brother but right now, DNA replication could wait.

" 'Sides, there's something much more interesting on! It's Wednesday, dude!"

"Dean!"

Dean lifted his arm high above his head, changing the channel even as Sam swiped uselessly at his brother's arm. The documentary switched out, replaced by a wide indoor arena. The open area was surrounded by a high reaching cage, closed over at the top, with huge floodlights illuminating the floor. But the bit Dean was interested in was the two opponents. One was big and burly, a smug hint to his emotionless face. The other was smaller, but lithe, and from each of their backs sprouted a pair of massive feathered wings, arching high and beautiful. The smaller one was listing heavily to one side, fingers clutching at his ribcage. Damn it! He'd missed part of it already. That's what he got for walking home with Cassie. His lips curled upwards in a smirk. Totally worth it though.

"Dean, I don't wanna watch the Fight. You know I don't like it!" Sam wailed. Let it never be said that Dean didn't love his brother, but christ, that whine could be really grating at times.

"Sam, shut up!"

Even as their squabble devolved into a scrap on the sofa, the fight onscreen was progressing in a decidedly more violent manner. The smaller angel was pinned, one wing twisted awkwardly, the narrator noting he wouldn't be winning any beauty contests soon but hey, that didn't matter much with a fighter.

"Dean, gimmie the damn remote!"

"Ow, Sam! Did you just bite me?"

Dean gained the upper hand in time to see the smaller angel someone get loose, attempting to drive his elbow into the big one's face, but he was swiftly sent sprawling with an expertly executed backhand. He didn't get back up. Dean paused his scrap with Sam to peer at the result, one hand braced against his brother's head while the other kept the remote out of reach.

"Well, damn. Uriel won again. No surprises. Dad says he's the best trained they got right now."

Suddenly, his hand slipped as Sam ducked and charged straight into his chest knocking the wind clear out of him, skinny arms flailing against Dean's own.

"Ow! You little-"

"Boys."

At the sound of that voice, deep and disapproving, both stopped their antics, untangling limbs as swiftly as possible. Dean looked sheepishly at his father, while Sam scowled at some distant point on the wall.

"Sam, behave yourself." Sam's outraged squeak was ignored and John turned his gaze on Dean. "And you, try not to antagonise your brother." He lifted an eyebrow, keeping it there until Dean muttered a quite 'Yessir.' Their father's eyes turned on Sam, and with a sharp jab of Dean's elbow as a prompt, Sam huffed a 'Yessir' of his own.

Seemingly satisfied, John bent down, hiking an oversized duffle onto his shoulders. "Bobby called. Got wind of a wild one skirting the forest up north. Maybe two."

Dean perked up instantly, leaning over the back of the couch, remote lying forgotten on the seat, which Sam took advantage of in a heartbeat. "Is it the Archangel? Did you find it again?"

The corners of his dad's mouth lifted slightly. "No, just a regular bi-colour wing. I'll be back tomorrow. Look after Sam." He turned to leave, and was halfway out the door before Dean was chasing after him.

"But, you said you'd take me on a hunt! Why not today? C'mon, Dad, I'll be 17 soon. You've been promising since I turned 16!"

John laid a hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Soon. Not today. Go keep an eye on Sammy, make sure he doesn't sabotage the nets again." The last bit was said with some amusement, but Dean wasn't laughing.

"Dad-"

"I'll see you boys tomorrow, okay?" John walked turned and headed straight for his truck, offering Dean one last look and a wave before starting up the rickety old thing and driving off down the road. Dean's shoulders slumped.

"Dean?" Sam was standing in the doorway, long floppy hair hanging over his concerned eyes.

Dean straightened his shoulders and sucked in a breath before traipsing back inside and shutting the door. "C'mon, bitch. Didn't you say you had something to do for school?"

Sam scowled, all traces of concern evaporating. "Jerk," he muttered under his breath, loud enough that Dean could hear and stomped off into the living room.

Dean sighed. Damn it, he hadn't meant to piss off Sam, but he wasn't in the mood for another 'Hunting is wrong, Dean!' argument. It was one that rang through their small household at least once a day. Sam just didn't get it. Hunting was cool. Their dad was a total pro too. He didn't even use a demon partner to sniff them out. Although, Dean knew the real reason behind that, even if Sam didn't.

John and Mary Winchester had been two of the best hunters around, along with their sniffer demon, Azazel. The Winchesters were going straight to the top, catching some of the best angel specimens around. No one had expected the faithful Azazel to turn on them. The yellow eyed bastard slaughtered Mary, and had almost gotten Sam too until their Dad interrupted. The damn demon had still managed to escape though. Dean had only been four when everything happened, when their family had been cut down and when John really threw himself into the hunting gig. Since then, the Winchesters were remembered for their tragedy, not their skill. Dean had heard people whispering about 'the poor old fool bent on revenge'. There was more money in angels than demons, but John Winchester was always on the lookout for sightings of a yellow-eyed demon prowling around, not that there ever was. It was like Azazel had simply blinked out of existence.

That was why Dean wanted in! He could help his dad. Hell, he knew how to use all the weapons to defend himself, he'd been taught by his dad for god's sake! He even knew the theory of how to catch both demons and angels. He just needed to prove that to his dad.

But at this rate, he'd never get to. No, instead he got to listen to Sam bitch about hunting and talk about rights for angels and blah, blah, blah.

Dean dragged a hand over his face, casting a look over his brother, who was perched in front of the television again, that stupid documentary back on a blaring at full volume.

"Turn it down, Sammy," he muttered, not waiting for answer before he made way to his room, and threw himself down on the bed.

SPN

Dean stared blankly at the wall from his desk, counting the cracks as inane chatter drifted over from the other side of the room.

"And father said he would get me a new one. It's about time; the old one is starting to look really rough around the edges."

Dean rolled his eyes, turning to face the culprit with a flat look. "Bela, you only got that one last year. They do live longer than a bee, you know. Surprisingly."

The girl pushed her hair over her shoulder, shooting Dean the filthiest glare she could managed. "Obviously, Winchester. But when you're showing angels, only the best of the best will do. Anael is pretty, I suppose, but she's terribly common."

Dean frowned. He'd seen Bela's angel before. Pretty was one hell of an understatement. She had long thick red hair and soft white wings dappled with gentle reds and browns. A real nice example of a tri-colour wing. She wasn't one his dad had caught though. Dean never would've let him sell anything to the Talbots. "So, you're ditching her. For what?"

Bela smirked, hands on her hips as she strutted towards him, leaning down to murmur into Dean's ear. "Father says Gordon's on the trail of an Archangel." She stood up straight, lips pulled in a self-satisfied smirk. "What do you make of that?"

"Wowee, good for Gordon", he said, in the most bored voice he could muster, rolling his eyes. Even as he turned away, Dean could feel the panic rising. An Archangel? Couldn't be the one that his dad had been chasing, could it? If Gordon caught one, they were finished. A lot of people didn't want angels caught without demons, said they had behavioural problems. It was a load of crap. If anything they were calmer, no stupid black eyed bastards nipping at their heels every five seconds.

"Oh, Deanie, are we jealous? Your father couldn't catch an Archangel if it stood in front of him with all six wings clipped." Bela's accented voice was already starting to piss him off, but no one insulted his dad. No one. Dean whipped around, lips pulled back in a snarl.

And the bell rang.

Damn it. Dean forced himself to turn away from her smug face, hands gripping the edge of his desk as her shrill laugh echoed behind him. After class, she was getting it.

SPN

Bela didn't get anything after class. She'd skipped out before the rush and Dean lost the bitch in the crowds. To hell with it, what did she know! His dad was the best hunter, screw Gordon or any of those other losers.

Dean loped down the steps of the school, waiting for Sam to turn up. The kid could probably walk home on his own, he sure made enough noise about being escorted, but Dean had been put in charge and like hell was he gonna let Sammy out of his sight while John was gone.

"Hey, bitch," He called fondly as the familiar mop of brown hair surfaced. Sam met him with a 'Shut up, jerk' and they strolled home at a lazy pace, teasing banter starting up immediately. Dean poked fun at Sam's hair, Sam called Dean a horn-dog and everything was good between them again.

That was until they reached their house and saw their dad's truck, accompanied by the big trailer Caleb owned, which meant one thing.

"They made a catch!" Even as he said it, Dean could feel Sam's good mood slip away.

"I'm gonna go do my homework," Sam muttered quietly, moving towards the front door. But before Sam had even taken a step, Caleb's head popped out from behind the trailer, grinning widely.

"Hey, boys! How 'bout you come look at this fella. He's a good one! Pretty, but a bit snappy so don't get too close, ya hear?"

Dean pulled Sam's dead weight alongside him, coming round to stand by Caleb at the back of the trailer. And, wow. They weren't kidding.

Tall and muscular, with sandy blonde hair and a matching scruff around the face. Some people did like the rough look. Blue eyes regarded them with a look of utter disgust, layered with an anger he was familiar with by now. But the wings, now they were special. Even folded, they were massive, rising past the angel's shoulders. They were a dark brown, but the larger flight feathers were a glittering gold, the same golden hue spread in flecks across the entire wing. Dean whistled loudly in awe, and the angel ruffled his wings, angling them out of Dean's view as much a possible.

"Almost got away from us, he's clever," came John's voice from behind. "Sedate him before we transfer to the coop, Caleb. We don't want to risk him getting away. Again."

"Aye, aye, cap'n." Caleb tapped his forehead with two fingers.

Sam was staring at the angel, and Dean knew that look. This wasn't going to end well when Sam finally found his voice.

"You get a name, Dad?" He questioned, trying to distract himself from the emotions pouring off his little brother.

"Not yet. The most he's said is 'piss off' and 'bastards'. The usual stuff. We'll get him to tell us, or else we'll give him one. They don't like that." Dean could almost swear he saw the angel roll his eyes at that. "Now, you two, inside. We want this transfer clean, no hiccups."

His dad gave him a pointed look, eyes darting to Sam and back again. Dean nodded, gently threading his fingers around Sam's wrist. No hiccups, right. In other words, he didn't want a fight during something as delicate as transfer. "C'mon, Sammy. Homework, remember?" For once, his brother didn't argue, following quietly behind Dean into the house. Dean shut the door, and thanked every deity that ever existed ever for the miracle of a quiet Sam in the face of a successful angel hunt.

"I hate it, Dean." Damn it. He took those thanks back, deities sucked ass.

"I know, Sam."

"It's just- It's not fair, it's not right! They're intelligent, not dumb animals for us to play around with!"

"Sam. I know you hate it, okay? I get it. But this is Dad's job, He's good at it, it keeps a roof over our heads and I'll be damn appreciative of that."

Sam's face crossed over from angry to furious. "Oh yeah, I'm real appreciative that putting intelligent beings into slavery keeps us comfy, because that's all that matters, isn't it!"

Dean whipped around, fists balled tight. "Damn it, Sam, it is all that matters! Family, remember? Dad's keeping us safe and fed so shut up! Just shut up!" His anger ebbed away slowly as Sam's expression registered in his mind. Wide eyes, like he couldn't quite believe Dean had just let loose on him. Crap, crap, crap. "Sam."

"You're just like him, you know that? You're just as bad as he is." Sam's wavering voice quieted abruptly and Dean could only watch as he trudged down the hall, slamming his door.

Just like he'd expected. It never ended well. At least it hadn't been Sam vs. Dad. Those fights kept the whole neighbourhood awake. But that thought didn't do much to quell the guilt squirming in his stomach.

"Damn it."