Title: Gently Down
Chapter Title: Flip a Coin
Wordcount: 1,700+
Rating: T (this chapter)/ M over all
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean, Cas, Destiel
Warnings: Angst, brief mentions of suicide
Spoilers: Set immediately after the Season 8 finale. If you haven't seen that far, don't read this!
Disclaimer: I wish, but I don't own the characters or anything that even looks Kripkied!
Summary: They'd said that this was going to the last thing they did. Close the gates forever and be done with it. Yet, after the fiasco that sent angels hurtling from Heaven the boys set off to fix a broken world. Again.
A/N: Unbeta'd so if there any mistakes please just send me a message and I'll fix them. I appreciate any and all comments! I'll be posting chapter 2 next Thursday

Flip a Coin

The world was warm. Warm like the first rays of sunlight sweeping across an open field illuminating the drops of dew, light like the smell of honeysuckle after a gentle rain, and it enveloped him in its hazy serenity. Dean blinked against the sugary glow one hand moving to over his eyes as they adjusted. Maybe he ought to be shocked but this wasn't the first time he'd woken up in some foreign place. At least nothing was trying to kill him yet, small blessings. He looked around warily, above him the sky was an expanse of fluffy clouds streaked with the colors of first light. The ribbons of gold, pink, and orange shifted into shapes and patterns in some weird version of the Northern Lights. Below him the ground was soft, and running his hands through it it dawned on him what he was sitting on it. Dean shook his hand to stir the feathers up and watched them lift slightly then float back down to the pile. Feathers, the ground was coated in nine inches of pristine white feathers.

Okay, that was odd. Standing Dean walked a circle noting that, as far as he could see, there was nothing but the shifting patterns of the sky and the feathers until the two converged on the horizon. Without much else to do he started to walk, unsure of his locations or direction Dean marched on tensely. Whatever this was he doubted it was any good and he needed to get back to Sammy.

Time was irrelevant here as nothing seemed to change. His feet and leg screamed at him for walking for what had felt like hour but the sky was unchanging in its consistency and the field of feathers seemed to never end. Dean surveyed the area for the umpteenth time before resigning himself to taking a break. He wasn't hungry or thirsty and without the soreness of his legs he'd swear that he'd done nothing. Irritated that he was stuck in another shit situation Dean dug his hands into the fluffy down around him and started to pile it around him like a petulant child. One final swipe of his hands and he'd cleared a small section enough to see the actual ground. It was concrete, or he thought it was, but alone its rough surface were familiar chalky black lines.

In a frenzy Dean began to route through the feathers. On his hands and knees he moved through them, throwing feathers above his head as he followed the growing pattern of lines. He was covered in the fluffy feathers that were sneaking down his shirt and tangling in his hair by time he'd reached and dug out the lifeless form. Her mousy brown hair splayed around her face, barely concealing lifeless eyes. The burnt impression of what used to be her wings hidden largely by the thick coating of fluff. Dean sucked in a breath so sharply it rattled against his lungs and wondered what creature was lurking here that could kill angels, the thought chilled his spine. He had nothing but the general things he kept in his pockets which was barely enough to break into a building let alone kill whatever this was.

"Cas..?" He whispered softly letting himself look at each rise in the white just long enough to picture the body beneath, it was a miracle he hadn't tripped over one when he was walking.

Tension coiled in his shoulders causing him to start again. Now he could see, really see the feathers around him to notice the imperfections in it. Every few yards there were rises and dips in the blanket of white. Moving to the one closest to him he nudged at the bottom of the mound where his boot met the firmness of another body. He bent over where he figured the head was and parted the feathers enough to see that it wasn't a dorky accountant before moving to the next. Fear pounded against his ears and he moved from body to body each time more frantic than the last. One hand in his pocket gripped tightly around his pocket knife in case whatever had kill them showed itself

Coughing. Dean heard coughing through the walls of his room. He stared blankly at the ceiling, which spun with the faint patterns of a shifting sky, counting the beats of his heart before swinging his head over the side of his bed. Was he ever going to get to just sleep, he thought wryly to himself. He brushed of tendrils of doubt and worry that clung to him, for now he was going to ignore that that "dream" felt more like his trip to 2014 then any nighttime rendezvous in satin panties. He ran his hand along the back of his neck, under the hem of shirt rubbing at the knot that was forming there. Staring into the darkness of his room he stared out into the nothingness until more coughing roused him into action.

Sammy was sitting as his favorite study table typing away at his laptop, a cup of steaming coffee sitting in a dangerous position between his elbow and the table's edge. As he got closer Dean inwardly cringed, Sam looked terrible. His eyes were sunken in surrounded in purple depressions that were starting to yellow around the edges, the normal tan expanse of his skin was pale and pasty with uneven splotches of sickly red. Sammy's appearance was a constant reminder these days that it was his fault his brother was so sick. He let his brother, his one responsibility, believe that he was unloved. Dean hated seeing his brother like this and wanted nothing more than to wipe Sam's slate clean. Instead, he pulled a thick blanket from the back of a chair and draped it across Sammy's shoulders.

"Really, Dean?", Sam retorted softly despite grabbing at the edge of the blanket and pulling it tighter around himself. Dean scoffed and sat in the chair adjacent Sam, reaching over to pull the coffee out of the danger zone and sip at it gingerly. One taste of the foul drink and he pulled a face that made Sam laugh. Not quite the genuine sound Dean preferred, but better than nothing.

"Yeah, uhh, it's a little burnt."

"Ugh, you'd think we live in squalor," Dean grunted pushing the cup away, "You can just make a new pot."

"Because you'd don't get irritated if I use that fancy espresso machine you lugged in here wrong." Dean just shrugged and stretched languidly in his chair waiting for Sam to tell him why he was up at 7:30 a.m. looking at.

"So, get this," Sam announced looking up to meet his brother's eyes in recognition. Turning the computer enough for the two of them to look at it Sam pulled up several different websites, all of which meant nothing to Dean.

"Look at this," Sam pointed at the weather map, "There have been reports of clustered meteor showers all over the country, internationally even."

"And -"

"Let me finish! Around each reported meteor shower there have been dozens of people calling in saying they have seen UFOs and aliens but when the police, or in some cases over curious locals, go to check it out they find nothing except one, sometimes two or three, confused people milling around. I guess they've sent some of the "people" at the sites to sanitariums. I'd bet the government might have picked up a few. I mean, Dean, angels literally fell from the sky." Sam looked at Dean, his eyes wide and breathless with excitement. When Dean only cocked an eyebrow he gave an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes.

"Fell from the sky, for everyone to see. People are panicking!"

"And this is different from any other day how? It's now our prob -"

"Stop, yes it is. We made it our problem years ago. I know you want me to sit around a heal, but I can't. I feel like we need to at least look. Come on, maybe one of them know where Cas is." Sam's voice lowered at the last and he looked up the gauge Dean's face.

Dean looked down at the table quickly his eyes tracing the grains of wood that were older than he was. The last time he'd seen gas in that little bar Dean has steeled himself knowing it would be the last. He'd prepared to say everything he'd always wanted but remained quite, unable to really bear the thought of never seeing that nerdy dude ever again. Dean has secretly pined for him since, well, he was lifted from perdition. Something about Cas has always resonated with him. Even now when he was having hyper realistic dreams of dead angels and feathers what had scared him the most was the thought that beneath that layer of white was Cas.

Of course, he'd never told anyone about the swirl of emotions inside of him but Sam knew. He always did. Sam moved a hand like he was going to reach out, but thought better of it.

"He couldn't have known that what he was doing would lead to the Host falling. Hell, Dean, it may not have even been him. Wherever Cas is I'm sure he could use some help. Hundreds of angels fell that night so It can't be too hard to find just one," he chimed optimistically.

Dean just shook his head with a brief laugh. They'd been here less than a week and Dean was halfway torn between both options. They could leave to find Cas and Sammy would heal slower not to mention they were bound to get into a life threatening situation or twenty, or they could stay, Sammy would heal up nice and quick with no interruptions and Dean could get some well deserved sleep. He felt Sam's eyes on him waiting for an answer.

Dean gave a long-suffering sigh, "Sure, fine. Great. We'll head out in two days. Deal? That way you can rest and do nothing while I get Baby ready."

Sam nodded loosely happy that he'd won out in the end. He couldn't sit here and do nothing with the possibility of Cas wandering aimlessly, powerlessly around, also, he knew that inside that meticulously put together mask of hardened hunter Dean wanted him.