The Demon-Angel war had ended.

When this great and long prayed for feat had happened it was time for another much anticipated feat to occur.

It was time Angels and Demons came out to the public, to humanity.

The night of the occurrence, after many meetings, gatherings, propositions, angry oppositions, the televisions of the world aired breaking news: On each program stood two winged people, one with feathered wings and the other with stark, leather, bat-like wings.

Each took turn as they spoke of their existence, wishing peace and promising no harm.

All people took it differently.

Some welcomed them with open arms, some didn't care, some were mesmerized by the angels and feared the demons, some wanted to kill all of them, created groups to do so, some went possessed, some wanted answers of religious nature, some wanted to blame them for religious reasons.

Fifty years later the dust has somewhat settled. The 'supernatural' beings got their equality rights, got a right to regular jobs, got a right to go to school, got their 'human' rights.

What the public didn't know is that this was needless. That there was much more to their agenda.

Angels and Demons had existed for millennia, they didn't need their schools and jobs.

If they wanted to they could kill of all of humanity.

But, that's exactly why they came out.

The Angel/Demon war raged on behalf of the humanity that wasn't aware of their existence.

The demons held no care for them, wanted them dead, wanted the angels living beside them on the Earth plane. They wanted coexistence between supernatural beings, not fragile, broken, misguided humans.

Angels thought else. Their history thought of compassion and love, refused the slaughter of humans, and like most broken humans they raised war in the name of peace.

A paradox within itself.

It was the angels idea to come out, so that demons could see that coexistence was available, that they could all make it work despite the humans flaws.

So, fifty years later, at the age of eighteen, Dean Winchester, a demon, found himself in his first ( although last) year of high school.

You might wonder why this is.

See, Dean grew up in a family that had lived through the change in society, that had known of the time before they lived amongst humans, that had a heart full of pain at the distraught of their existence.

Dean wasn't thought to hate. Never that. But he heard his raging father speak when he was forced into taking a human job for the sake of their agenda, for acceptance of humanity.

He saw his mother cry when she found out their grandmother had been killed by humans in a hate crime.

He learned the history of demons and angels, and was left bitter with the knowledge that it was the angels idea to go through this.

Their alliance had betrayed them.

So, he and his brother had been home schooled, by demon and angel teachers.

The angels were a necessity, as the demons were forced to get over their differences, as were the angels.

The Supernatural hierarchy had made that decision for them.

Angels and demons were forced to play fair.

And now, Dean was forced to play fair with the humans in high school. The hierarchy had noted that the children of the Winchester household had never been socialized openly with humans, so it was ordered their children attend at least one year in a public human school.

Dean was outright angry with this. He didn't like it when people told him what to do, let alone be forced into something with no choice or say in the matter.

It helped that his parents felt the same way, but an order is an order.

What Dean didn't expect, in between the frightened, excited, pointing or outright laughing group of cheap humans clad in uniform and backpacks was a flutter of black, shiny wings pass by and into the door.

-/-

In his time in that hell hole he came to understand that the angel's name was Castiel.

Typical weird ass name.

Although Dean noted his name was of a lower rank, so his ancestors must have been font row fighters.

The human school proved to take a toll on him. He came home every night tired, tired from all the noise and attention he was getting. Really, there was no point in humans. Graceless, thoughtless meat bags.

If they could only understand the full power they were capable of, their mind was capable of, if they only studied their spirituality they could became something akin to the supernatural, something a few humans had accomplished and carried the rank of 'saints'.

Still, the children weren't capable of grasping the simple study of 4th year's mathematics so Dean didn't expect much.

He also picked up one nasty, disgustingly human and destructive habit.

He picked up smoking.

The stress of being around so many shallow beings for five to six hours five days a week, plus the constant beg for attention he got from them, some asking him stupid irrelevant religious questions that have been deemed inappropriate to ask for years now, some asking him about his wings, some even tried to touch them.

The last bit ended pretty brutally for the kid that did have the balls to grab him left wings. He hopped up from his chair, threw the boy across the room, flared his wings wide and high in a threatening manner, crouched down on the floor, a high pitched scream escaping through his lips, the battle cry making his eyes turn solid black.

He was sent to the principal's office right then. Like any human had any authority over his demon grace.

It was forbidden for the supernaturals to harm humans, except for some occasions.

Uninvited touching of wings was one of them.

Wings were the most intimate part of their beings, for angels and demons too. They were used in battle, in flight and most importantly in love. To casually touch someone's wings meant you were expressing a sign of comradeship, to massage the front meant comfort, a touch he had offered to his brother and vice versa. But there was a part of the wings that was meant for a mate, and mate only.

The underside held a bundle of nerves, the joints where wings meets skin awfully tender, and most importantly the oil glands, used to clean off dirt and bacteria from said wings, and ofcourse a different kind of oil, one that only a mate could touch, see and smell.

So, now at the age of eighteen, Dean was sitting outside the school's building, smoking a cigarette to ease the loneliness, having skipped gym as it were where the children really went wild. Kicking, screaming, yelling and demented laughter, running around with no sense of space and reality, no control and no reason. Plus, the gym teacher, Dean suspected, hadn't fully accepted the supernatural entities yet, always gave him a dirty look, which Dean shot right back, and told him to sit on the bench as he was 'unnaturaly' ( always seemed to spit that word out) strong built to compete with the humans.

Bullshit.

Probably a religion nut, but hasn't kicked out Dean for the sake of keeping his job. Smart move for a dumb cause.

And there, puffing away at his cigarette he saw the boy, the angel walking out of the building, his uniform far more rumpled than Dean's, tie hanging loose, eyes looking stressed.

He didn't even chance a look around himself, instead he rummaged through his pockets picking out a small, red box and drawing out a long cigarette, putting it hastily between his lips, the other hand quickly coming up to fumble with a lighter.

Dean couldn't help but let a snort escape him. Seeing an angel looking anything but prim and proper was as unorthodox as seeing a demon exchange a beer with a human ( don't trust those 'AllEqual' videos they show on tv, promoting support and acceptance).

The angel's eyes snapped to him then a glare set on his face, though it immediately translated into shock and then recognition. So, seems the angel noticed him too.

"Little stressed aren't we?" –Dean spoke through the short distance, a little louder than necessary.

"Human presence is tiring." –Dean was surprised at the voice he was presented with, having never heard him speak before. The angelic grace was emitted clearly through his voice, something that would go unnoticed through a human's ears. The boy wanted to make his presence clear, to show that he was not afraid of Dean by letting his grace show. It was basically like puffing up your chest, which made Dean laugh internally.

"That it is, that it is..." –Dean said while nodding his head in agreement, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"How does it bother you, though?" –Dean asked through the silence that emitted at his last words, giving the boy a look, taking in the sight of those wings. Black. An unusual color for angels. It was always associated with demons and the black of their grace as it showed into their eyes.

"...Too much attention." –Castiel said after a short pause.

"Oh, come on. I bet you love that shit. Having them gush over you and your pretty little white light of a soul." –Dean said with a mocking voice. He was in the mood to rattle this guy some more.

See being in heat, is much like having PMS.

You eat too much, you talk too much, you get back pain, you get angry a lot. With the added bonus of jacking off like a monkey.

Dean, at the ripe age of 18, the border to adulthood, had only recently entered into heat, and needless to say he wasn't getting the hang of it. He was spurting his mating oil in the worst times, to no one in particular, be it amongst humans in a classroom where no one sensed anything but the damp spots on his shirt, be it at the dining table, amongst his mother, father and brother, who would only give him an embarrassed look before he blushed beet red and excused himself to his room.

Or be it while his asleep, and wakes up with his boxers soaking, and from what? His ass! So, now, in between jerking himself off dry, he had to go and buy himself a freaking dildo from a human sex shop.

Talk about disgraceful.

"They ask you if you've met 'God', if you could cure their hiccups and throw papers at your wings, so they are not technically touching you, so you aren't allowed to fight back. At least with you, they know you are dirt." –The angel's eyes flashed brightly with his grace, and even from the distance Dean could see the blue in their color, now bright and shining. Castiel was ready for his threat.

"You are the dirt for taking us to the humans!" –Dean snarled and quickly disposed of his cigarette, immediately taking a crouch.

"You are lesser than them!" –The angel responded in kind, taking a crouch himself, his black wings spreading widely over his head and curling towards Dean.

His words were the last drop needed. In the supernatural world, calling someone a human, or in this case, lesser than, was an insult made to be handled with a fight.

And Dean wasn't one to disappoint.

With a hiss, Dean lunged at the boy, his eyes immediately turning black, feeling the support of his grace run through his body. But, the angel was quick, dodging Dean and with a quick step, had him splayed on his stomach on the concrete floor, landing there with a rough puff of air, as his lungs were pressed short of air.

The boy was quick, but not as strong.

Dean twisted out of hold the angel had on his arms, turning on his back and fisting his hands into his wings eliciting a loud cry of pain from the boy above.

Dean's satisfaction was short lived as the boy's eyes turned bolt bright, his grace completely taking over him, and in kind twisted his hands into the leather of Dean's wings, pulling and scorching his nails deep into the sensitive flesh.

Dean moaned loudly, feeling his throat clench, pulling blindly at the wings of the angel, Castiel's hands working mindlessly as well, until something made them stop.

In their fight, Castiel's hands have roamed as far as too reach Dean's joints, where the pain would be merciless, but he had stumbled upon his oil glands. Which were spurting the mating oil.

And, really, Dean thought the whole heat thing couldn't get more embarrassing.

Except that, it could. Castiel, being an angel, could sense the nature of the oil by scent, the mating call.

His pupils went wild, and their fight stilled, both of them catching their breaths in a frenzy, Dean too shocked and embarrassed to say a single word.

Castiel though didn't take his eyes of him, only breathed deeply through his parted lips, his face growing redder and redder by the second, Dean being much in the same state.

"Hey! Hey, you two!" –A voice of an unmistakably older woman cut the moment short, and soon the angel's hands left their hold over the glands at his back, standing up stiffly and frantically, Dean following him soon, looking anywhere but at the other boy.

"I saw you fighting! I saw you through the window! You know we have a no violence policy in this school! To the principal's office! This instance!"

Dean glared down the woman, recognizing her as one of his teachers, awkwardly shuffling inside the building, not daring to give a glance back at the angel, that had his oil on his hands.

So I know, I've been going wild with starting new stories, but bare with me, I've been trying to get over my writer's block and I think it's sorta working.

To explain some things, yes, Dean's ass is soaking because he is self lubricant. Go figure. But still hot!

This is going to be one of those 'on the opposite side of the street' stories, where people that hate each other get together kind of thing. Also, first time virgins included!

If you liked the story please review, tell me what's good what's not. :)