The angels, they're falling. This simple, incomplete statement still rang in Dean's ears as he sped down the road to the bunker. The words were uttered from his mouth in shock and awe, and almost seemed like a question, because how could something like this possibly be happening? Cas was simply trying to close off heaven, so how did the plan seem to work in reverse? Instead of heaven locking the angels in, it had seemed to spit them out and lock the door behind them. Dozens of questions whirled through his mind, so he didn't notice the awful wheezing noise the Impala made in protest as he continued to push the speedometer off the marked numbers. The Impala was a solid car, but could only do so much.

Despite the hissing engine, Dean's main focus was on Sam in the backseat, who was coughing up blood violently. The trials had taken their toll on the man, not really kicking in till the angels stopped falling, and Dean feared that he was losing his brother. Sam's face was pale, with bloodshot eyes and purple bruises underneath. Slick, sheen sweat dripped down, and his hair was soaked, sticking to his face. He was curled in the fetal position, desperately trying not to cough up his lungs. He gasped and choked on spit and blood, but refused to go to the hospital, because, honestly, what could they do? Dean couldn't just burst through the doors with his brother, because they simply didn't know if it could be fixed. They were dealing with some godly power, and clearly, the human body wasn't designed to withstand that. Frankly a dick move on God's part, in Dean's opinion, but he had already filed God under his long list of douchebags.

Dean's eyes shifted from the black asphalt and the backseat quickly, and when they finally reached the door of the bunker, Dean didn't even bother to take the keys out of the Impala. He jumped quickly out of the car and swung open the backdoor. He dragged Sam out and attempted to lift him, but he struggled to bear the weight of his brother. He had no other choice than to make Sam walk, while he supported him. Dean's eyes shot up when he heard a door slam, hand reaching for his gun on instinct. His eyes finally adjusted in the dark to see Kevin running towards them in a state of panic.

"What the hell happened?" Kevin squawked, eyes wide.

"Sammy's hurt. Get Crowley. He's in the trunk," he grunted, jerking his head towards the trunk with the yelling Crowley inside.

"Are you kidding?" Kevin choked out.

"He's in those special chains from the dungeon. You'll be fine," he yelled, throwing open the door to bunker and shoving his key back into his pocket. He nearly dragged Sam to one of the beds. He stepped back and looked at his brother. He looked like he'd been through Hell, and Dean would certainly know what that looked like. He heard Kevin and Crowley, well mostly Crowley heading towards the dungeon.

"You can't do this to me you moron!" Crowley whined, but his cries were muffled when the dungeon door shut. Dean knelt by the bed, unsure of what to do with his brother. He grabbed his brother's clammy, hot hand in his a held it tightly. What had they done?

"Sammy, you're going to make it through this. I promise," Dean coughed out, tears welling in his eyes. Sam looked at him with wide eyes, that looked like a lost child. Dean saw little Sammy in those big, terrified eyes. Everything they had been through and how it had affected Sammy, shown in those eyes. Suddenly, the ground began to shake violently, sending the few things of Sam's crashing to the ground. Dean shot up, still grasping Sam's hand. There was a high pitched ringing in both of their ears, and an brilliant flash of light that filled the entire room. Dean shut his eyes tightly, before everything went entirely black.

Dean woke to find himself staring at the ceiling. He sat up, rubbing his head where a definite bump had formed. Sam was sprawled out on the bed, breathing shallowly. Dean reached over and shook Sam violently, and his eyes shot open, still bloodshot, but there was some color in his face again.

"You ok?" Dean asked cautiously.

"Sorta," Sam coughed.

"Sorta? You were almost dead last night Sammy," Dean looked at him wide-eyed.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I still feel like crap, but I don't feel like I'm gonna die or anything," Sam sat up and shrugged.

"Well what am I supposed to do then?"

"I'm kinda hungry," Sam began to stand up, but Dean pushed him back on the bed.

"No. No way you're walking around after last night. I'll bring you something. Just sit there," Dean huffed and walked out.

What the hell had happened? All he remembers was a bright light and high-pitched whining noise and then it all went fuzzy. Certainly wasn't an angel. Half of them were dead, injured, or just hopelessly confused as a human. Those options applied to all of the fallen angels, even Cas. Where the hell was Cas? Was he even alive? Dean gulped at that thought. Cas could've been anyone of those falling flames. Cas couldn't be dead. He almost lost Sammy. He wasn't willing to lose Cas, too, but he could only hope so much.

He threw some makeshift sandwich together and shuffled back to Sam's room. He stopped at the door in awe as nearly all the color had returned back to Sam's face. Did he actually look healthy? That was impossible. Okay, maybe it wasn't. They had dealt with crazier crap before. He walked towards Sam, who smiled at him. What the hell was that? Sam never smiled. Dean shook it off and shoved the plate towards Sam.

"Thanks, man," he nodded and took a bite of the sandwich. Dean just stared at him. Sam turned towards him with raised eyebrows, "Can I help you?"

"Who the hell are you?" Dean shook his head.

"Uh, Sam Winchester, nice to meet you. Your brother."

"No, what happened? We both black out last night after a violent earthquake, a loud noise, and a bright light, and you're all of a sudden perfectly fine? Something isn't sitting right."

"Can you not just enjoy it for a second? I mean, I'm not dead, so that's good right? You don't have to question everything, Dean."

"Of course I have to question it Sammy. It's my damn job," Dean's voice grew defensive.

"Can't you just let this one slide?"

"Sam," Dean shot up, voice harsh, "You just almost closed the gates of Hell, angels just fell from the freaking sky, and now you're magically healthy again? I'm sorry, but that doesn't seem to fit in."

"What? Something good?" Sam stood up as well, getting in Dean's face.

"Good things don't just happen to us Sam. We're nothing but bad luck!" Dean swallowed hard.

"That's not true," Sam sat down in a huff.

"Sam, everyone we care about gets hurt or dies. Every creature out there wants our head on a platter. Excuse me, but I'm not seeing much good in our screwed up lives," Dean threw himself on the bed like a five year old.

"We've had good things, too, Dean," Sam scooted closer to Dean.

"Give me five good things that happened that didn't go to Hell afterwards."

"Well, there was, that on Cassie chick."

"She nearly got killed but a killer truck Sam."

"What about Lisa and Ben?"

"I almost lost them. Hell, they don't even know who I am after Cas wiped their memories," a slight twinge of pain showed on Dean's face.

"Bobby."

"He literally went to Hell, Sam, and you almost died in Purgatory when you went to get him out."

Sam let out a heavy sigh, "What about Amelia?"

"That was you, not me Sam, plus wasn't her dad a total dick?"

"He wasn't that bad, Dean," Sam's voice was defensive at Dean's comment.

"I'm waiting on your fifth misguided reason," Dean sat up, propping himself up on his elbows.

"What about Cas?" Sam looked up innocently.

"He's probably dead, Sam," the words felt hollow as Dean said them. He stood up abruptly, not wanting to discussing his crappy life anymore. There were more important things to worry about, like how Sam was magically better, or how many angels wanted to skin him alive. He rushed towards the door, but he heard Sam quietly call out, "I know you believe he's out there Dean."

Dean turned back to look at Sam, hostile. "He's probably dead somewhere in the woods. He doesn't know what they hell to do without his angel mojo and he probably just laid down and died somewhere."

"What makes you say that?" Sam asked curiously.

"He's had a track record of self-loathing."

"Sounds like someone else I know, but you never just gave up."

"Well, Cas is different Sam," he spat out.

"I doubt that."

"You don't know him like I do. He's told me things."

"What the hell are talking about?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

Dean sunk into the door frame, defeat washing over his body. He wasn't sure if he should tell Sam any of this. It was a personal moment when Cas had really opened up to him, but Sam probably could be trusted. He had just almost died. Dean sighed deeply and half-whispered, "Cas told me, that, well, all of the damage that he caused in heaven, it wasn't something he ever wanted to see, so he shut himself off from everything."

"And?"

Dean took a sharp breath, "He said that if he returned to heaven to see the aftermath of what he did, that he might, well kill himself," Dean hung his head.

"What did you tell him?" Sam's voice was now laced with worry.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Sam repeated in shock.

"I didn't know what to say. I had no idea how to respond to that. It's not often you have to help an angel with suicide prevention."

"Still, it's Cas."

"You don't think I feel bad about it?" Dean snapped, "I figure because I didn't do anything then, he probably just offed himself somewhere."

"Cas is stronger now,"Sam whispered, unsure what to say.

"Was. He was stronger. Now he's either dead or helpless as a human. The guy basically lost everything he was. I would probably have done the same thing."

"Dean! Shut up! That's never an option!" Sam stood up and grabbed Dean by the shoulders. Dean just shrugged him off.

"And why the hell not Sammy? Don't you ever just want to get away from it all. I mean, don't get me wrong, I know I wouldn't go anywhere great, considering Hell, Heaven, and Purgatory all just suck ass, but," Dean stepped back.

"What happened to never leaving each other Dean? Killing yourself isn't going to solve anything," Sam took Dean by the shoulders again.

"I cause you more trouble by being around at this point."

"Where the hell is the strong, older brother I knew? This isn't him," Sam shook Dean.

"Maybe he's gone Sammy!" Dean pushed Sam away, "Maybe I'm just a broken shell of a man now. There's no angel healing crap or family counseling that's going to put me back together," his eyes started to water, "I'm hanging on by a damn thread Sammy. If I had lost you last night, who knows if I'd still be here. Cas, is gone, and I'm just going to assume he's dead."

"Dean," Sam sighed, "don't you ever leave me like that."

"I'm not going to Sam. It was a thought. Calm down. Great pep talk."

"Cas is gonna come back, and I'm here. We have Crowley's ass chained down in the basement. We're doing better than we usually do."

"Stop saying Cas will come back," Dean scoffed.

"He will," Sam's voice rose.

"Why?" Dean snapped bitterly.

"Because we're family. We all need him. You need him, and he needs you too," Sam took Dean into a hug. Dean just wrapped his arms around his baby brother, and tried to see the bright side, but how could he? All the light and hope fell out of the sky with those damn angels.

After a few moments the brothers separated from their hug with a few, quick pats on the back. Dean now looked worse than Sam, with dark bags under his eyes. His clothes were torn in odd places, and he was limp from exhaustion.

"You should probably get some sleep, Dean," Sam muttered as he picked up his sandwich again.

"Sleep isn't really one of my priorities," Dean mumbled as he walked out of Sam's room. He walked back into the kitchen and just stood there, lost in thought. If Cas was still alive, then Dean felt it was his responsibility to find him. He had helped get into this mess, so he might as well help him get out of it. How he was going to do that was still a mystery.

Dean finally grabbed a beer and walked into the library. Maybe he could find something that could help him find Cas. Most of the books looked like a bunch of nothing at the moment. Maybe there was something on the stupid angel tablet. He would have to make Kevin translate more of it. Where was Kevin anyway? As he wandering in the general direction of Kevin's room he heard a loud bang. His beer dropped from his hand and was replaced with his gun. The sound had definitely came from the dungeon. His casual walk had shifted to his standard hunter's prowl. He moved swiftly along the wall towards Crowley's confinement. Dean flinched and flipped around, gun aimed with his hand on the trigger, only to be met by the equally cautious Sam. They continued to the door, kicking it open swiftly. Their guns flicked up, ready to fire, only to find Kevin on the ground, sweeping something up.

"Sorry, I, uh, broke it," Kevin mumbled shyly.

"Damnit Kevin," Dean huffed as he put his gun down, "We thought Crowley had you or something."

"Oh, no. That son of a bitch," Dean rose his eyebrows at Kevin's use of the phrase, "is still tied down behind that."

"Good," Sam smiled as he put his gun away. Seriously, when did he ever smile?

They opened up to see Crowley, hunched over, defeated, in the car. He sported the chains quite nicely. He looked up slowly, disgust plastered on his face.

"Hi Crowley. Hope you feel at home," Dean chirped, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"Oh, yes, it's just peachy," Crowley groaned.

"Good, because I think," Dean leaned down, "we will keep you here for a while."

"You're not going to get anything out of me you self-loathing, worthless, waste of space," Crowley hissed.

"Bite me," Dean growled.

"Careful! He might actually do..." Sam stopped as Dean looked at him with condescending eyes.

"You should listen to your moose. Much like my hounds, my bite is worse than my bark."

"You keep telling yourself that Fido," Dean laughed, pacing in a circle around the chair Crowley was confined to, "because, as I see it, we have the upperhand in this little showdown," he leaned in again, "and you're somewhat muzzled right now."

Crowley rolled his eyes as Dean pulled away. Dean strode out of the confinement and slammed the door loudly behind him. His smirk vanished, and he was back to looking extremely solemn and worn out.

"Well I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving and we don't have anything here to eat," Dean grumbled.

"Seriously, you want to go out to eat?" Kevin chirped from behind them.

"Yes," Dean turned around, looking stern, "I'd like to go sit down at some cheap diner and eat something that's gonna kill me. Is it so bad to want to something semi-normal after everything we just dealt with?"

"Well no."

"Good," Dean hissed, throwing open the door that led out of the bunker. The Impala was still there, thank God, well maybe not God. He didn't really deserve any thanking at the moment. Kevin and Sam followed quietly behind him, hopping into the car warily. Dean simply slid in and started the engine, which sounded much healthier than it was last night. They sped down the desolate road out towards the town. Everyone was acting so normal, as if nothing had even happened last night. The mutterings of a few sightings of 'meteor' shower could be found here and there, but the majority of people were completely oblivious. Ignorance is bliss, Sam guessed. The boys found themselves on the opposite side of town, near a diner that sat just before the tree line began. Dean pulled in, parking farther out than necessary. Just as he stepped out of the Impala he looked to the trees and froze. His hand held tightly to the door. It took a minute before Sam and Kevin noticed and turned to look where Dean was staring. They froze as well.

"Dean!" Cas cried out from the road. This snapped Dean out of his temporary paralysis.

"Cas!" Dean yelled back, running towards him, nearly getting hit by oncoming traffic. The cars honked and swerved, but Dean didn't care. Cas ran up to him, coughing and wheezing, but still took Dean tightly into a hug. Dean hugged back, sighing in relief. Cas was alive. He also smelled terrible. Dean pulled away, coughing.

"Cas, you're not dead?"

"No," Cas looked down at his body, " I suppose not."

"You had me worried."

"I'm sorry Dean, I," Cas looked flustered, "I thought I was doing the right thing."

"Cas, just shut up for a minute," Dean cut him off, "You're probably starving."

"That properly described how I feel, I believe so anyway. Hello, Sam. Kevin," Cas nodded to them.

"It's good to see you man," Sam took Cas into a quick hug.

"Yeah, we all thought you were dead or something," Kevin added.

"I'm assuming you didn't close off Hell," Cas looked to Sam.

"Uh, no," Sam looked down, "How'd you know?"

"You're not dead,' Cas said flatly, "You're very healthy as well. Which is," he paused, "unexpected."

"Some weird crap happened last night. We blacked out, then Sam woke up healthy," Dean informed.

"Oh," was all Cas said.

They walked awkwardly into the dinner, taking one of the booths by the window. It was obvious that this wasn't totally normal for Dean, because his eyes were constantly searching the diner for any problems or pissed of ex-angels.

"So Cas," Sam began, "how did you exactly know where to find us?"

"I didn't. I merely wandered till I heard cars," Cas muttered.

"How did it feel to fall?" Kevin leaned forward, but Sam smacked him. Who asked that kind of question?

"I didn't fall."

"Wait, so do you still have your angel powers?" Dean tuned in.

"Well no. Metatron took my grace. His trials weren't really trials," Cas shifted in his seat, "They were ingredients to cast the angels out of heaven."

"We figured that much out, but why you?"

"I'm not sure. Probably just sacrificial. The one who gathers the ingredients has to give up their grace for it to work, I assume."

"Oh," Dean muttered and returned to his scanning. They ate in silence, the only sounds of them chewing or swallowing. Cas admitted to feeling better after he finished eating. It would take him a while to adjust to his new human needs. In the midst of Dean's scanning he glimpsed out the window to see a cherry red 69' Camaro pull up beside his car. Dean let out a low whistle, and the boys followed his gaze. Dean's eyebrows popped up when a woman got out of the driver's side. She closed her door with a loud bang and walked closer to the Impala.

"Let's get out of here," Dean mumbled, throwing down a few bills. The boys filed out of the diner and walked quickly to the car.

"Can I help you?" Dean hollered to the woman, who was now pacing around his car, inspecting it.

"Not really," she smiled. Her voice was light as she spoke, "Just admiring the car. Is it yours?"

"Yeah," Dean walked up to her.

"I just saw her from the road and had to get a closer look. Sorry. I didn't mean to make you nervous by being around your baby. I'm Erin, by the way," she stuck out her hand. Dean shook it.

"Dean."

"Nice to meet you. And you guys are?" she stepped past Dean.

"Sam," Sam shook her hand.

"Kevin," he nodded.

"Castiel," Cas just stared.

"Awesome," Erin smiled, stepping back over to the Impala, "67' Impala? Good taste."

"It was my father's," Dean chimed in. That was the first time he'd mentioned his father in a while.

"Mine was my brother's," she looked inside the car.

"Not bad," Dean laughed. The other boys simply stared at them both. Dean just stared at her, wide-eyed and confused. She looked up at him.

"Can I help you?" She smirked.

"No, sorry, just, mind if I look at yours?"

"Sure go ahead."

Dean walked over, inspecting everything, calling out random questions about what was original and what was replaced. He wandered to the trunk of the car and lifted it up quietly, but he wasn't expecting what he saw. His eyes went wide and slammed the trunk shut, pulling out his gun and aiming it at the girl. She turned around quickly, with her own gun aimed at Dean.

"Who are you?" Dean yelled.

"Calm down!" She kept her gun pointed stiffly at him.

"Not until you tell me who you are," he yelled again, pushing her against the car.

"Erin Harlan. Why you pulling a gun out on me?" She laughed. Oh, the irony.

"No, I mean who are you?"

"A hunter asshole," she growled as Dean stepped away, putting his gun down.

"That explains your trunk."

"Touchy much?" She rolled her eyes, "How did you not guess who I was? I mean, we're kinda the only one's who always wear plaid, leather, and drive classic muscle cars for the hell of it."

She was decked out in a thick, brown leather jacket, boots, plaid, and jeans. She fit the part.

"Okay fine, but what are you doing here?" Dean asked as he relaxed partially.

"I go where the actions at, and you boys, are action-packed," she smirked.

"How do you know us?" Sam joined in.

"You don't think I wouldn't have heard through the hunter web about the mighty Winchesters, their prophet, and their trusty angel of the lord?" She laughed, and Cas cleared his throat.

"Well," Dean started, "I hate to tell you this, but you probably don't want to be around us. We're in some deep crap right now."

"Sure, you must be their feathery friend," she looked at Cas with a warm smile.

"Well, I," Cas began.

"He's not an angel anymore. As of last night. I don't know if you got the memo, but all that fire in the sky was falling angels," Dean hissed.

"Damn, you're in deep," she relaxed again.

"You think?"

"Any leads?"

"You can't be serious. You're insane if you stick around," Sam growled.

"I agree," Kevin added, while Cas just stood silently.

"Well," she stood up, rubbing her hands on her jeans, "that's what makes the job fun."

She walked over to her car and popped open the trunk. She grabbed an old dusty box and tossed it at Sam. He opened it warily to find a old, leather book. He opened to find Greek text about government. She leaned into her car, her feet lifting off the ground, because she was probably only 5'3. She pulled a bottle of scotch out and handed it to Dean. She threw a small notebook full of random sketches to Kevin. Lastly, she tossed a glowing, glass ball to Cas.

"What the hell is this?" Dean gestured to the items.

"Gifts. Figure I start off on the right note," she shrugged.

"Uh thanks," Sam muttered, but it sounded more like a question.

"Figured you dig that Greek government crap. You can never go wrong with scotch. That notebook is full of some random demon trap crap."

"Thanks," Kevin muttered.

"Trust me now?"

"Not really," Dean stood up, setting the scotch in his car.

"Well you should. I was a friend of Jo's."

Dean went rigid. Who the hell was this chick? She showed up out of nowhere bearing gifts and suddenly wanted to be trusted.

"What can you possibly do for us?" Sam asked.

"Help, research, hunt, fight, provide a female touch to your everyday, macho lives," Erin snickered.

"Fine, well then get in your car and we'll take you to the bunker."

"Sounds like a plan. Lead the way buddy boy."

Dean let out a huff and walked over to his car. Sam and Kevin got in shortly after him, but Cas walked up to Erin slowly. She glanced up from in the car.

"Can I help you?" She smiled sweetly.

"I, uh," Cas played with the object in his hands, "was wondering what this is exactly?"

"Frankly, I don't know. Found it a while back and thought it was pretty. Heard the hype about this mysterious, pretty, blue-eyed, doll of an angel from some hunters, and figured it would match your eyes. Which it does. Damn I'm good," she laughed to herself. Cas felt a weird heat spread over his cheeks. What was that?

"Cas!" Dean yelled from the car.

"Yes?" Cas spun around.

"You getting in or what?"

"Right," Cas mumbled and slid into the car. Dean turned on his engine and glanced at Erin, who smiled and turned her engine on as well, and laughed. It was much louder. Dean and Erin pulled out of the parking lot and sped off to the bunker. This was going to come back to bite Dean in the ass, and he knew it.