WARNING: Spoilers for 8.23 Sacrifice. So if you have not seen that yet, I suggest you go watch the finale before reading this. I don't want to ruin the end for you
‘This must be what it feels like,’ Metatron thought to himself as he looked around the white room. ‘Breaking loose and finally achieving your goal.’ Naomi was still slumped over her desk, blood pooling around her head from the wound Metatron had given her. She wasn’t dead, not yet, but she was completely incapacitated. You don’t work as the scribe of God and not pick up a few things about angels and how they work.
With a giddy laugh, Metatron walked out of Naomi’s office and into the rest of Heaven. It had been a very long time since he’d been here and he missed the garden. As Metatron walked, he saw the devastation and damage that had been caused by Castiel and other angels. Fighting was one of their talents but the last time that talent had been turned on each other was during Lucifer’s fall. The pieces of Heaven that were the least damaged were already starting to heal themselves and the rest waited their turn. It would take a long time to erase the signs of war.
Finally reaching the garden, Metatron ambled through it slowly. It looked a bit like a glade in a forest, with millions of flowers, trees, and bushes. He’d come home. This was one place that had been kept pristine, due to Joshua’s efforts. Though even that angel had been cast out, his wings burnt off. Metatron was the only one here, other than the human souls who had been given the privilege of Heaven.
While he walked and remembered, Metatron completely missed the eyes watching him. They widened as they recognized the barest shadow of wings coming from the man’s back. Here was the only angel left in Heaven and the eyes then narrowed in suspicion. After watching the others be cast out in fear and confusion, the serenity in this one could only mean that he had caused it all. Moving silently, the eyes withdrew and hurried home to a bar that no longer existed down on Earth. There were plans to be made and vengeance to take. While most of the angels had been dicks of the highest order, some were not. And they had become friends.
Dean watched the sadly beautiful display above him and Sam, worry and fear making him tremble. Sam was coughing and weak; stopping the trial was hurting him, possibly killing him, and the one person who might be able to help wasn’t answering his call. But that was understandable, really, since Castiel had gone to close Heaven. And he was staying there, as their conversation at the bar had highlighted painfully for Dean. He’d hoped, even while knowing
that hope was useless, that just this once Castiel would choose to stay.
“Dean,” Sam choked, bleary eyes looking up at the sky. He could only see flashes of light, nothing concrete, and the panicked breathing of Dean was terrifying him. “What’s going on?”
“Angels,” Dean replied sadly, voice low with resignation and sorrow. “They’re falling.” Dean continued to watch, feeling as if he should stand witness to this. The rest of the world would probably assume it was a meteor shower, though how the newly human angels would be taken he had no idea. The lights showed no sign of stopping and a hacking cough from Sam convinced Dean to stop watching and take care of him. He helped Sam into the Impala then went back for Crowley. The demon was mostly out of it so he didn’t fight Dean. The elder Winchester had no idea how Crowley was going to act now so kept the sigil-inscribed cuffs on him.
While the angels continued to fall, lighting the sky, Dean drove back to Kansas. It was the best place to be now and he was sure the Men of Letters would have some way of dealing with this. He hoped. The dungeon would contain Crowley as well if the demon was still more demon than human. Finally reaching the bunker, Dean was immensely gratified to see Kevin still inside. The prophet helped him carry Sam to his bedroom and then Crowley down to the dungeon.
“What’s going on?” Kevin asked when Dean took a moment to breath. “The machines here went crazy.”
“I knew it,” Dean murmured to himself before turning to Kevin. “The angels. Cas did something and they’re all falling. Or Metatron did it.”
Kevin nodded and looked at his bags, still packed and sitting at the door. But something Castiel had told him made him stay. He was a prophet, would be until he died and another prophet was called. As much as he wanted out, he was in this life for the rest of his life. And where would he go, after all? His old life was pretty much gone, his mother was dead according to Crowley, and he had no purpose out there. With a sigh, he sat down at one of the tables and gestured to the machines.
“So, apparently the Men of Letters tracked meteors or supernatural energy or something,” Kevin began when Dean sat down. “Little tracking dots appeared on this screen.”
Dean nodded as he listened, eyes trained where Kevin was pointing. The screen still had uncountable dots on it and Dean wondered exactly how many angels were left. He was happy that Kevin was staying; he could use the backup with Sam out of commission. Now if only Cas were here. Dean knew he’d feel safer with the angel around, as he’d always done. But he’d offered so many times and Cas had flown away every time. Maybe it really was better this way. He didn’t think he could handle it if Cas left again.
Tears glimmered in subdued blue eyes, falling down dirt-streaked cheeks of a face turned to the heavens. They were eyes that had seen Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, Earth, and everything in between. And now, they were human. Human and full of pain as their brothers and sisters fell to Earth in fire and torment. Falling wasn’t easy when it was one’s choice and it could only be worse when it wasn’t.
Castiel winced as he heard muffled thumps as bodies crashed. He could only hope his siblings survived their falls. He was lucky, in a way. As the angel whose grace Metatron had stolen, Castiel had had a gentler landing on Earth when Metatron sent him here. He wasn’t quite sure where he was, since most forests looked alike in the darkness. Castiel knew he had to get moving, had to find somewhere to hide, but the beauty and horror above him kept him rooted to the spot.
He stood all night as more and more streaks filled the sky. This was all his fault, he’d made a mistake again. Trusting the wrong person seemed to be the only thing Castiel could do and the thought burned through him. Yet again, he had caused destruction while trying to do the right thing, been used because he couldn’t see past others’ ability to lie. The last angel fell just as the sun was cresting the horizon, the streak of their grace brighter than the dawn. Castiel wiped away the tears that had fallen, determined to find some way to fix this. And there was one person he could trust, one person who would never lead him to more damage. He had to find Dean.
Castiel worked his way out of the forest and to a road. He flagged down the first vehicle that came his way, a semi truck hauling cars. Castiel recognized a few Impalas and took that as a good sign. The passenger door opened as he walked to it and he looked up at the smiling woman in the driver’s seat.
“Hello sweetie,” the woman said, waving at Castiel. “You need a ride?”
“Yes,” Castiel replied simply, climbing into the truck. “Kansas. I need to go to Kansas.”