"Well played, Castiel," sounds Metatron, appearing in front of his desk, behind which Castiel was seated in the chair. Castiel looks up at him with confident eyes, continuing to patiently wait for his turn to speak, to end Metatron's reign once and for all. Cas leans back in the chair, waiting for him to end his entrance monologue. "Obviously you and Gadreel managed to turn a few dead-enders against me."
"Gadreel is dead," Castiel states simply.
Metatron sighs, not bothering to hide the look of relief on his smug face. "So Gadreel 'bites the dust'." His eyes wander to the floor, where the Angel Tablet lay crumbled, its broken pieces and dust heaped in a pile by Cas' feet. Metatron remarks, his voice now rushed and accusatory, "So now the Angel Tablet—the most powerful instrument in the history of the universe—is in pieces! And for what again?" He gestures at the remains and Cas looks at them, as if for the first time, though no emotion crosses his tired face.
"Oh, that's right," Metatron continues mockingly, receiving an annoyed, though still patient, look from Cas. "To save Dean Winchester." He looks at Cas triumphantly, confident that he has broken Castiel's stone defenses. And to an extent he has, for at the mention of Dean's name, Cas' stomach lurches and his heart radiates a longing for the man that he has spent so long to protect. Once he is finished dealing with Metatron, he can finally go to him and rejoice with him of their victory. That this war they have been unwillingly fighting has finally come to a close. Oh, the look that will be on that gruff face of his—Castiel could hardly wait. Unfortunately enough, he did—he still had Metatron standing in front of him, waiting to be dealt with. Castiel quickly aims to re-mask his face and only responds with a glare.
Metatron steps forward, motioning at Castiel. "But that was your goal, wasn't it? I mean, you draped yourself in the flag of heaven, but ultimately it was all about saving one human, right?" Cas looks away, refusing to entertain this madman, refusing him the satisfaction of being right. Also the guilt that surfaces with his words, the images that flash in Castiel's mind of all his fallen brethren in this war that he could not bring himself to care about as long as he could get back to Dean. Of course it is about Dean—it's always been about Dean. Like he's been saying—he is no leader. He is just an angel anxious to get rid of this dick so Dean can finally be safe.
"Well guess what," Metatron pauses, then sucks in a breath and states, emotionless, "He's dead too."
Castiel's eyes widen as his head snaps back in Metatron's direction. He forgets the composure he is supposed to maintain, and emotions begin flooding his senses. The world drops from beneath his feet, the air disappears from his lungs. A strange sensation begins seemingly behind his eyes and then suddenly they feel wet. Cas' lips part, ready to yell at Metatron that he is lying, that he now needs to finally shut that big mouth of his and get down on his pudgy knees, though nothing comes out. His voice hitches in his throat and he is unable to utter even a syllable. A small voice in the back of his mind tries to break through the haze and understand that Metatron is telling the truth, but Castiel won't allow it.
"And you're sitting in my chair," Metatron growls, forcing Castiel back into the present, his head still reeling. Suddenly cuffs appear and wrap themselves around his wrists, attaching him to the chair. Instinctively, Cas just makes to use his power to unbind himself, but these cuffs are special. They seem to be similar to the demonic handcuffs the Winchesters had been using on Crowley to hinder his powers while he was in their captivity, though these are made for angels. Castiel looks at them in disgust, but he cannot bring himself to move to fight their restraint. He cannot bring himself to move at all, actually. Cas only looks at Metatron incredulously and states, "You will never get away with this."
"Get away with what?" Metatron advances on Castiel, each step he takes closer making Castiel flinch. "You told a silly story to a group of less-than-nothing believers! I'll clean up your mess in an hour!"
"You give our brothers and sisters far too little credit," Castiel immediately responds, somehow calmly, his voice refusing to break despite Metatron's recent revelation. He sucks in a breath and continues, "They will soon learn that you are playing them."
Naturally, Metatron laughs at Castiel's remark. "And then?!" His face quickly drops from amusement to intense anger, shouting, "They will do nothing! Because they are frightened little sheep following my crook wherever it leads." Castiel still remains silent, his heart pounding in his head, his big eyes refusing to look away no matter how much he wants to erase Metatron's disgusting face from his sight. "And where I'm taking them—back to our rightful place atop this mountain of human shame and excrement—when that happens, trust me! They're not going to care how they got there!"
Metatron finishes closing the distance between them, turning Castiel in his chair so that they were face to face. Castiel flinches away from him, but his bindings prohibit him from going very far. "You know why you could never quite pull it together, Castiel? Why you're sitting here with your grace slowly burning away? And your reputation long extinguished? No curiosity." Metatron shakes his head in disapproval. "You didn't read enough." He slides out his Angel's Blade and holds it in front of Castiel threateningly. "You never knew how to tell a good story." Metatron's hands position themselves readily around the hilt of the blade.
Castiel, his eyes swimming in his sadness, leans forward and snaps, "But you did." Metatron looks at Castiel questioningly, but is soon silently answered as Cas whips around in his chair to reveal that Metatron's PA speaker had been on this entire conversation, his traitorous words being projected all over Angel Radio for everyone to hear. He had been made, he was done. Metatron's jaw dropped inhumanly low, his expression priceless. It didn't matter what he did now; everyone finally knows who Metatron really is. Even if he decided to kill Castiel…
Did he want that? Was Castiel now willing to die? What did he have to live for, if Dean was dead? Regardless of what his "followers" may think, he really is unimportant. No one needs him. His brothers and sisters will do fine without him. Sam is head-strong and smart, he doesn't need protecting either. All that mattered—who only mattered was Dean.
And Dean is gone.
And Castiel is dead.
A line of angels burst into the office where Castiel and Metatron are with mutters of "Take him", "Bring him here", "Oh my god", "Go help Castiel". It takes three angels to restrain Metatron, all three finalising the capture by pulling out their blades and pressing them against the back of Metatron's neck. A separate angel frees Castiel of his restraints and he stands up, forcing his back straight and his authority to air off him. Metatron takes one look at the blades, then glares back at Castiel, who draws his own blade and pushes it against Metatron's throat. The indecision that crosses Cas' angered face is apparent, the angels anxiously unsure about what event will come. Cas brings his arm back, winding it up, and goes to plunge the blade into Metatron's heart, but halts it at the last centimetre. Held-in breaths are released and Metatron lets out a sigh of relief. Castiel retracts his Angel's Blade, then without a moment's hesitation drives his fist into Metatron's jaw, knocking him unconscious. The angels let go of the now-limp body, and he falls to the ground with a final thump. The only noise in the room now is Castiel's rapid breaths and the sound of his knuckles clenching and unclenching.
"Contain him," Castiel commands in a rasp voice, then he pushes past the dumbstruck angels and trudges out of the office, barely making it down the hallway and into the alcove before he completely loses himself. He sucks in a lungful of air as if he has been holding his breath for several minutes, then he breathes out, then back in sharply. Over and over again, he can't stop. The dam finally breaks behind his eyes and his face is soon drenched in the foreign feeling of tears. He can't hold it in any longer and his hyperventilations turn into a guttural grunt and then the grunts into a yell. Over and over and over again he yells and yells as the tears incessantly fall from his sore eyes. He yells until his yells are raspy and his voice can't hold volume. And then he yells some more. He doesn't understand—why is this happening? What has he done to deserve this?
No.
What has Dean done to deserve this? Why? Why is he dead? Why is he dead and not Castiel? Why had Metatron killed Dean and not Castiel? And why, by all the gods, had Castiel spared this monster's life? He should die. Painfully. Metatron does not deserve to live. And Castiel wants nothing more than to drive his blade through his chest where a heart should be and watch the light go out in his eyes. Then he will laugh at the lifeless body Metatron once inhabited.
And maybe then he will die himself.
Castiel doesn't know when, but sometime ago he had stopped yelling. His face is starting to feel dry and sticky now that his eyes were not leaking anymore. He can feel his heart pounding in his ears and a painful throbbing in his head. He takes a shaky, calming breath, sniffling and rubbing his nose, soothing his temples. What had just happened? Castiel had no idea it was in the realm of possibility to feel such emotion. It should not be possible. There should be no allowance to such emotion.
Dean…
Castiel? Castiel. We have Metatron, but he is now conscious. We are taking him to the prison, an angel's voice reverberates through Cas' mind on Angel Radio. He doesn't have the energy to respond, but he cleans himself up and flits to the entrance of the prison, where he sees Hannah pushing Metatron down the hallway. For some reason, she is the only angel with him. Castiel suddenly felt anger again. What if he had escaped? He could have killed her!
But that is not the real question.
Why has Metatron not escaped? He has the perfect opportunity to. This worries Castiel immensely, Metatron obviously having a plan hidden deep up his sleeve. Castiel walks up behind the angel and her prisoner and grabs Metatron by the back of his shirt, holding him back while the prison door is opened, then shoves his sorry ass inside the cell unkindly. Metatron stumbles into the cell over to the bench on the far side, angrily readjusting his disheveled clothing.
Castiel, ironically, cannot bear to look away from him. "You're doing the right thing," Hannah states in a comforting voice., "letting him live." Castiel finally pulls his gaze away from the monster in the cell and into the eyes of the devoted angel wanting nothing more than to console and rejoice with her fearless leader. Castiel will never understand why that is. He will never be a leader. He won't even be an angel much longer… "…it's what a good leader would do," Hannah finishes.
"I am no leader, Hannah!" Cas replies, not missing a beat, his nostrils flaring. "I never was." He sighs and says honestly, "I just wanna be an angel." Castiel looks away from Hannah and back at Metatron, who is eyeing the walls of his cell with disgusting hatred that Castiel can't bring himself to feel pity for.
"And your grace?" she asks somberly, breaking the silence. "What will you do about that? You will die if you don't replenish it." Castiel looks back at Hannah but can't bring himself to answer. The silence grows and mutates between the three of them until it's crushing Cas like an anvil. He can't bring himself to care about 'professionalism' or 'composure' any longer and simply disappears, flitting away from the prison, not caring where his wings take him. Anywhere but heaven, anywhere but the darkness in my mind and the spear in my heart that means Dean is dead.
Dean is not dead.
Dean is dead.
And Castiel didn't save him.
Castiel couldn't save him.
Dean Winchester is no more.
And neither is Castiel.