Dean Winchester threw back the last few drops of whiskey in his glass. The burn didn't bother him, hadn't for a while now. It helped more than anything else he'd tried. It helped him forget. He picked up the half-empty bottle and poured himself another glass.
He liked to sit in the quiet and think, even if the memories were painful. He looked at the clock on the wall. Sam, his younger brother, was sprawled on one of the motel beds, sound asleep. Dean smiled faintly as he raised the tumbler to his lips.
Dean looked out the window, sighed, and poured himself a third glass. Only an hour ago, he'd lain against the Impala with his brother, watching the sky as thousands of Angels had their Grace ripped out and fell to earth.
What will we do now? He wondered. How can we get past this? Dean drained his glass, picked up the bottle, and then sat it down heavily. Maybe he was numb enough to rest now. He flopped onto the other bed, fully clothed. He closed his eyes. He knew that sleep wouldn't come easy tonight…
Sam Winchester lay on his bed. His eyes were closed, but he couldn't sleep. The Trials had completely taken everything out of him. Now, he was just happy to be able to rest. His hand was still bandaged and searing pain coursed through his entire body.
All Sam wanted to do was scream, but he worked hard to keep his breathing calm and steady. The last thing he needed was for Dean to worry. He briefly wondered what would happen to Crowley. They'd left him at the church. He pushed it to the back of his mind; it wasn't important in light of everything else.
Sam barely remembered much after looking up and seeing the Angels falling. He knew that Dean had pulled him into the car. After that, everything went black. Finally, he could stand it no longer. Sam rolled over on the bed, his eyes taking a minute to adjust to the dark room. He saw his brother knocked out on the other bed and smiled. How will we get through this? He thought sadly.
Finally, he sighed and readjusted to get a little more comfortable. This time, he would really try to go to sleep, for his brother's sake…
Castiel stumbled through the mess of leaves and bushes. The image of his brothers and sisters Falling was seared into his memory. How could Metatron have betrayed him, betrayed them all, in such a way? Cas wiped away the perspiration from his forehead. He was entirely human now.
He had Fallen after helping the Winchesters, but he'd never lost his Grace. He'd been cut off from Heaven, but remained a celestial being. It was the worst pain imaginable to know he was the cause of all this. He tripped over a branch and dropped to his hands and knees.
Through a clearing up ahead, Cas could see a road and lights. A bright neon sign caught his attention. It was a motel. Maybe they're inside, he thought. He crawled forward a few feet, and then gave up. He was exhausted. He could see the motel a little clearer now.
Dean sat by the window, a glass in his hand; alcohol, no doubt. So close, but he was too tired. He lay on the damp grass, rolling over to gaze up at the stars. He felt helpless. He felt powerless. He was powerless. Cas closed his eyes, wondering what was in store for them…