AN: I'm new to this. Not lying. Any suggestions would be welcome I've been wrestling with publishing this for a while, so if you don't like it, that's fine, just click the home button.

Contains Season 8 spoilers, unintentional season 9 most likely. What I wish will happen this season

I'm a hardcore Destiel shipper and if any mentions Wincest as a suggestion, sorry, I can't :/ not my thing

May be a one-shot. May have Destiel moments. Who knows?

-VWH

The Wayward Angel

"Cas? Is that you?"

"Come on man, don't just ignore these".

"You know, I've been praying to you. Would it hurt to at least call?"

"Sam… I can't find him Cas. We need you- I… need you"

The voicemail beeped. That was the last message Cas heard before the phone ran out of battery. The wingless angel looked down in dismay, at the useless hunk of metal with its accusatory cracked screen that only reminded him of the worst hour of his life. The ex-angel mournfully put the phone away and set out to find the Winchesters. If he was lucky, maybe he landed close to the church Sam had Crowley held in. That immediate thought brought him to an abrupt stop. The trials. Metatron's trickery. The death of Naomi. There was a wave of nausea and dizziness before Cas fell, for the second time that night.

Cas woke to a strange noise, almost like electric crackling coming from the sky, and the sharp smell of ozone. Curiously, he looked up, and saw the hundreds- no; thousands- of bright orange flames hurtling towards the ground. They were everywhere. With a start, Castiel realized. His brothers and sisters… they were falling. He could hear in his head the babble of angelic screaming and confusion, enough to bring Cas to his knees, clutching the sides of his head, tears streaming down his face. Dean. Where was Dean in all this? Castiel shakily rose and set off at a run, trying, yet failing, to ignore the pain in thousands of voices echoing inside his head.

2 days later

Dean paced the hospital corridor frantically. Sam was in mid-op, Cas in the wind. What the hell is happening? Dean pulled out his cell to leave yet another voice mail in his angel's mailbox before he shut his phone with a snap. If Castiel actually cared, he would have responded to his thousand freakin' prayers. Another twinge in his gut. If Cas isn't responding, his mind told him sternly (strangely in Bobby's voice), there's a damn reason for it.

A doctor woke him out of his sleep-deprived daze. "Jake and Chris Purvahl?" Dean almost declined the aged doctor, quickly remembering their newly acquired identities, courtesy of Charlie. "Yes?" Dean replied in a gruff voice. "Well, Jake is doing… fine. The real danger is the glass that got embedded deeply into his body. If we hadn't of done the X-ray, we would never have seen it. Tell me, was your brother attacked? I can have the police here in ten minutes…" the kindly old doctor said, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. "No doc, please… That would be the last thing he needs right now". The doctor agreed, and left Dean to his quiet anger. Abbadon, he thought. This bitch, I swear… The intercom directly above Dean crackled to life- 'Dean Winchester, to Intensive Care. We have your brother.'

Cas. Frightened nurses stuck to the sides of the hall as Dean raced down to the Emergency ward, praying Cas hadn't fallen.

The fallen angel woke up groggily. Never before, in his endless life had Cas felt this bad. This, he mused, must be how Dean feels after every punch-up he had managed to find himself in. Cas hurt, from his head to his toes, and every time he was forced to breathe he almost cried from pain. Unable to deal, Cas just laid down on the sidewalk of some random city and just waited for death.

When he woke up for what was probably the 10th time that night, Cas found himself in the brightest, whitest, loudest, cleanest room he had ever seen. A sign outside this strange room told him he was in Intensive Care. Brilliant.

"Where am I?" he moaned, struggling to stay awake.

"New York county hospital, Castiel".

At the sound of his angelic name Cas was more awake then ever, staring straight into the face of… Meg.

"You're dead".

"You're rude".

"No… Crowley stabbed you…"

"I was a witch d'bag. I pulled a lighting stunt and cleared the hell out… Dean's here."

This is all I've written so far… I will write more, most likely. Please leave your thoughts down below would be helpful.