Sam was hunched over on the ground, leaning weakly on the front wheel of the Impala with limp legs. Dean was crouching next to him, frantic to help with nothing to do. They were parked in front of the church where Sam almost closed the gates of Hell. Almost. Dean got there just in time, but Sam was sick anyway and he couldn’t stop it. If Cas were here, he could just heal him, Dean thought. But is anything that simple in their lives? No. Cas said he was damaged on a level that even he couldn’t fix, and he wasn’t here. Dean tried praying to Cas, saying that they needed him, but the other end was silent, leaving them on their own.
Sam wheezed on the ground, losing his grip on his clear vision and drifting off in the splotches of black scattering in his eyes. Dean grabbed his arms for the third time and gave him a good shake, begging him to stay awake, to breathe, to keep his god damned eyes open. He refused to let Sam go. Never has, never will. Right after they could start fixing everything they've broken, he refused to let Sam leave him. He finally opened his eyes for a moment with all the strength he could wring out of his deflated body, but his strength quickly drained as they closed again.
That’s when the sky then lit up above them with a sitting storm just waiting to pour. The strange cloud almost glowed. A storm brewing with no storm, or any signs of it. It was just... sitting there waiting for something to happen. They were extremely suspicious, but they didn't have time to care, so neither of them took much notice. God, where the hell was Cas?
“It’s gonna be okay, Sammy. Alright, just stay with me, okay? You gotta stay with me.” Dean begged, shaking his shoulders lightly and patting his arms desperately. Sam nodded faintly and straightened himself as much as he possibly could. "Yep, I'm good" He coughed out. A straight up lie and they both knew it. But Dean needed to hear it. He really wasn’t good. He could feel himself rotting, the sick scorching the back of his throat as a painful reminder. But he needed to live, for Dean. He needed to prove that he wasn’t going anywhere. He couldn't leave them now. He couldn't. For as long as he could, he'd stay awake. For his family, Dean and Cas. Wherever he was.
Cas woke up strapped in Naomi’s chair and seeing her lifeless vessel sprawled out on the desk pouring blood, startling him into alertness. It was both a scare and a relief to see her corpse still as stone on the table. The feeling wasn’t long lived.
Cas could feel cushions of the chair digging into his back from all the painful memories of his experiences in this exact spot as the memories flashed by his eyes. Shaking himself sane, Cas looked around wildly for clues on where he was and what the hell was going on. He came up with nothing, to his fearful annoyance. That was until he saw the person standing across the room as his heart dropped.
Metatron stood across from him and had the 'interrogating' tools pushed aside, and a copper bowl with a familiar piece of stone set beside it, the stone he stole. The stone he wrote. He had various ingredients shoved in the containers and spilled all over, dangerous and rare ones that were a pain in the ass to find. From what Cas could infer, the spell had almost been completed, only one or two ingredients and whatever destruction was stirring in that bowl would erupt into effect. He had a vile clutched in his hand with a peculiar charm that Cas would know anywhere, one he knew in his core. A grace charm, for keeping an Angel's grace.
Metatron leaned over to Castiel with a cloaked smile and a wicked eye, hovering over him like a vulture. A contently peaceful, sick, vulture. He held an angel blade delicately in his hand, grazing his finger across the razor-sharp edge as Castiel bucked against his restraints with fury in his eyes and a pitch-black, cold pit in his gut.
Metatron waltzed over to Castiel, whom was helplessly bolted down to the chair, and looked to him with softly deceiving eyes, bending down to his level before held a glass vile to his throat and dragged the blade across with a grunt of pain from Cas. Castiel's Grace was shining out of the cut and flowed out into the glass, draining from his body as his body screamed for its return. Metatron swept his hand over the slice and it was gone, like nothing ever happened. Like nothing changed.
He could feel the power being sucked from his vessel. He felt himself weaken. He felt nauseous and dizzy, and abnormally warm. His heart was beating like a motor and his eyes were feral and alert. He didn't feel that spark of control or power in his grasp, the serenity of reign and dominance. He didn't feel his grace anymore. There was nothing but a sore ache in his body and a throbbing headache. No, no, no, no, no, this can’t be happening. Please, no.
“I want you to live this new life to the fullest. And when you die, and your soul comes to heaven; find me. Tell me your story." He said, his tone calmer than any sane person should have in that moment.
He was…. Human. He sank into the chair. Never in his entire existence has he felt this venerable. In an instant Metatron snapped his fingers he was falling from the sky, flames surrounding him. The next thing he knew he was lying on the ground, broken and defeated, consumed in black nothingness.
The Winchesters were just left witness to the falling sky, pieces of Heaven coming crashing down to Earth. Dean assumed they were meteors and shrugged them off, having more important things to do, but something just seemed off to the other Winchester. Sam (being the nerd he is) keeps up on these kinds of things and no meteor showers were expected anytime soon or anywhere near where they were. It just didn't seem right.
“What's happening?” Sam asked in worried confusion. Both brothers looked up at the puzzling phenomenon until finally, it clicked in Dean’s brain what was going as one of the stars had a body, and wings. Crowley said something about the Angels before he zapped off, but Dean didn't get it until now.
“The Angels. They’re falling.” Dean said breathlessly. They both sat and watched powerless as they saw a particular Angel fall fairly close to the church. He fell in a pit a few miles out. For some reason, Dean was drawn to it. He didn’t know why, but he just seemed familiar, comforting, and… fearful. Set on figuring out what, or in this case who, fell down in that clearing, Dean got up from the ground and revved up the Impala. The feeling he had in his gut nagged at him with something he could pin down. It almost felt like possession, but something he felt low and deep inside told him otherwise. This just felt different.
He managed to haul Sam into the Impala and drove towards a small clearing down the road to where it landed. He told Sam to stay behind before he got out of the car. Sam of course rebelled against the order and attempted to get out, saying he needed to help. But the drowsiness got the best of him as he ran out of gas trying to sit up and he dozed off in the back seat. When Dean jogged over to the crash site to investigate the blasted area, he saw an excruciatingly recognizable trench coat lying on the ground, covered in dirt and blood. Oh, God no.
He bolted down into the pit to find Castiel knocked out lying on the ground. He had burn marks on his arms, with cuts and bruises all over. He dropped on his knees and gripped Cas’ arms tightly, praying he was alive, even though he knew it was a useless plead. He was too desperate to care. He searched for a sign of consciousness but found none. Nothing except dead weight and cold skin.
No, no you can't leave me now. You can’t do this to me. Please Cas, please don't leave me now. I need you, I need you to wake up! Please, not now!
“Cas, you there, buddy? Cas!” Dean started to shake his shoulders to make him open his eyes, say something, do something. "Cas, you need to wake up, please, Cas! Wake up!" He screamed desperately, his voice almost cracking from the rawness. With that, Cas opened his eyes.
After scrambling to his feet with Dean’s assistance, he slowly stood up fully, taking in his surroundings. He set his gaze on the man above him, regaining his focus. Once he came to he suddenly stumbled over to the Impala and directed his gaze to the sky, praying everything was fine. Please, tell me it isn't true...
Just to Castiel's luck, it was. The Angels were falling and crashing into the Earth. His brothers and sisters being banished from their home, his home. Dean watched Castiel’s heart sink and his balance melt away. Tears were starting to form in his eyes and his lips started trembling a little as Dean rushed over to catch him. He wrapped his arms around him, guarding his angel from this nightmare and keeping him standing.
“No, no, no this can’t…..” Cas cried as he fell into Dean’s arms, melting into him.
“No, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...” Dean held him tighter letting the tear drops soak through his jacket. He let Cas nuzzle his head on his shoulder, letting him closer than he’d ever allow before. He didn't care about his stubborn act anymore, or that this would have been awkward for him. Cas was breaking, and he wasn't going to let him fall to the broken alone like he did, like he let him do before.
"No, no-I can't.... I didn't mean to......" Cas whispered and cried desperately. Dean gripped Cas' shoulders and spoke low into his ear, willing himself to believe what he was about to say.
“I’ve got you, Cas. It’s gonna be okay, Cas. It’s gonna be okay.” Dean chanted into his ear. Cas clung to Dean like there was no tomorrow, letting the tears flow down his cheeks. He's never cried in his entire existence, or really felt sadness or feelings at all until he left Heaven with the Winchesters. He never knew or understood the power of human emotions until now, how weak he’d become. He didn't dwell on the thought, the only thing on his mind was how he betrayed his family, how they we’re being thrown out, and everything else that happened to him, to his family up until now. He didn’t mean to, he didn’t want this to happen. He went cold as he heard his brothers screaming in confusion and pain, falling from the Divine and his body started to drip down his trench coat.