Prologue

Castiel walked through the woods for a long time. Under normal circumstances, he would have been able to tell how long he had been walking by judging the movement of the Earth under his feet and the barely perceptible movement of the stars and the moon. The only movement he was able to feel now was the persistent trudging as he made his legs keep moving forward. He had to keep going, find some form of civilization before he passed out. He could feel his breathing becoming heavier; almost all the muscles in his vessel- no, body aching horribly, not used to this much activity without his Grace to fuel everything. He could even feel blisters on his feet, probably from the business shoes of Jimmy, which had never bothered him before, but were obviously unsuited to what could only be described as hiking.

Cas had waited until the streaks of fire in the sky had mostly abated. He had no idea what would happen to the vessels falling to the Earth. Many would die on impact, he imagined. But many would survive. Would they remember? Would they have any residual powers, like the Nephilim? They could still be connected to Heaven, since there was still a Heavenly Host, even though the Host just consisted of the Scribe.

He watched his former brethren fall, then came to accept that there was nothing he could do. Not now, not here, and not alone. The first thing Cas knew he had to do was find the Winchesters. That was Priority Number One in his mind, but to find them, he must first trek through the unknown woods and hopefully find some town, or a gas station if nothing else.

He topped a steep hill, limping slightly because the leaves were wet and he had slipped several times, hurting his ankle a bit. But from here, he could see, not very far, a winding road, the wet blacktop shiny through the trees. Sending up a silent prayer of thanks, more out of habit than thinking anyone was listening to prayers anymore, he started walking towards it. Cas finally exited the tree-line a few minutes later, almost just wanting to lay down here on the side of the road in tiredness, but he had to keep moving. He took a couple of steps out into the road, looking for a helpful sign, or landmark. He saw neither.

That was the last thing he remembered.

XxxX

Dean Winchester was beyond freaking the fuck out.

He was normally cool under pressure. It came with the job description. You gotta be cool. But seriously.

The last couple of hours had him so close to having some kind of panic attack, the kind usually reserved for waking up from Hell Nightmares.

First, there had been the damn angels recreating 'Starry Night', in full color, complete with fiery craters and total decimation of shit. Fucking angels! And he had no doubt in his mind that that douche-nozzle Metatron was behind this bullshit.

Then, while the angels were still raining down, Sam had started doing a freaky Linda Blair impression, only spraying Dean, the side of the Impala and the ground with blood instead of pea soup. Coughing and gagging, Sam said he was okay, but Dean called BS, and started to load him into the car.

Of course, Sammy started arguing about Crowley.

"We can't just leave him in there, Dean," and "He needs to go to the hospital, too," and "I'm not getting in the car until you promise to bring him."

So Dean had finally got his big-ass little brother in the car, rolling down the window in case Sam needed to spew all over again. Then he went back into the church, where he got Crowley, who was sobbing and telling Dean that the girl in 'Love Story' really didn't have to die, and alternately singing parts from what Dean recognized as 'Wind Beneath My Wings'.

Super inappropriate, considering the scene outside.

Dean literally dragged Crowley's ass out and dropped him in the back seat. His sobbing turned into wailing when he saw the 'Starry Night' impression.

Dean immediately hit the highway and had no intentions of stopping for any reason until they saw a sign for a hospital. An hour he drove, leaving the radio off, only the sounds of the air blowing through the open windows and Sam's ragged breathing and Crowley's whimpering keeping him focused.

He knew he was speeding way more than usual, but he figured that all the law enforcement would be focused on the falling bodies, and this was an emergency. The road was a little curvy, and kind of wet. So when Dean went around a curve, speeding at almost thirty over the limit, there was no way of avoiding hitting the person standing just barely in the road. He slammed on the brakes and the tires squealed to a stop, but not before there was a loud, painful thump and the person was thrown down the road a ways.

Swearing, because this was the last thing he needed right now, Dean hurried out of the car and went to check on the person, hoping to a deaf God that it wasn't an angel, and really hoping the person was alive. Dean did not need another dead person on his conscience.

He wasn't expecting it to be Cas.

He dropped next to the…whatever he was now, and checked to make sure he was still breathing and had a pulse. "Cas…", he muttered, shaking his shoulders a little, "Cas, you hear me, man?"

Dean was checking his head when he noticed a lot of blood coming out of the back, trickling down his neck.

"Damn," he whispered, sighing. Cas had potentially survived a fiery fall from space, only to possibly die of a head injury by his friend, who he was probably looking for. Dean kept looking down his body; both of his wrists hung at funny angles, and there was blood seeping through his clothes in several places. Another one for the hospital.

Cas was much lighter than Dean expected. He picked him up very, very carefully and sat him in the backseat with Crowley, who was absently staring out the window at the moon and singing 'Space Oddity'. Dean strapped the seatbelt around Cas, then got back behind the wheel.

They had places to go.

XXxx

The hospital that Dean eventually found was packed. It was like a fucking circus in the ER. People were running all over the place, everybody talking making a loud roar. Angels who had survived the fall were still in need of medical attention, and a lot were being brought in in critical conditions, some with major burns, others with so many internal injuries they looked like they'd gone through a trash compactor. Then there were people who had been affected by the falling bodies- the roof had collapsed in a couple's bedroom, multiple vehicle accidents, houses caught on fire, you name it.

And, of course, seeing as most of the angels' vessels had had families, a whole bunch of missing people were suddenly found, and worried spouses, parents, and kids milled around, wanting to know what had happened to their loved one.

Dean didn't actually give a crap. Yeah, yeah, it was his business to help people, but these guys were way past his help level, and his brother was fucking hemorrhaging on his shoulder. He dragged Sammy in first, then went back for Cas then Crowley. Dean managed to get them seated all together then told the nurse behind the desk that they needed help. Her hair looked like she may have tried to yank it out in places and she had several pens stuck in her pony-tail. She took his name then told him the triage nurse would be to see him soon.

Dean sat across from the group he'd dragged in. Sam was barely lucid, eyes half open and his breathing shallow and gurgling. His skin had turned a weird grey color and he was sweating but his skin was cold. Cas was still unconscious, paler than normal, but the bleeding from the back of his head had stopped. Blood spotted through his clothes where he must have gotten torn up on the pavement, but they were drying. Crowley had burst into fresh tears at the bustle of the waiting room, but was calming down.

'Soon' turned into an hour and a half. A harassed looking woman in scrubs that smelled unpleasantly like smoked human flesh sat next to him with a clip board.

"Are you Mr. Solo?" She asked briskly.

"Yeah, that's me. Dean."

"Dean, okay, what happened?"

Dean ran her through the story he had thought up, pretty awesomely if he said so himself.

Sam, his brother, had started coughing up blood, and then throwing up blood. Dean was bringing him to the hospital when he passed by an accident. These other two were in a car together that had hit something, Dean guessed one of the falling people, but he hadn't seen anyone. He told her he knew Cas, was a friend of his and his brother's, but had no idea who this other guy was. But they both seemed like they needed to come to the hospital, too.

She wrote all this stuff down, then started calling for stretchers. After the nurses had loaded the three men up and started towards the swinging doors Dean started to follow, but the triage nurse stopped him.

"You can go back to see them when they are stabilized, I know you understand how serious some of these injuries are. I'll have someone come get you."

Sighing again, Dean sank back into the chair, only just realizing he was covered in three different people's blood. There were other people in the waiting room who looked in worse shape, so he didn't worry about it. Absentmindedly, Dean pulled out his phone.

'Twelve missed calls. Seven new voicemail messages.'

He blinked at the screen for a minute. Who would have called him that many times?

He entered the code to listen to the messages.

'First new message.

Dean. Dean, this is Kevin. These boards are lighting up like I don't know what. Is it something to do with the trials? Are Sam and Cas okay? Did something go wrong? Call me back.

Next new message.

Dude, it's Charlie. I'm not sure if you're aware, but people are falling outta the sky. Kinda weird. Call me back.

Next new message.

Holy crap Dean! I just stepped out of the bunker! The angels are falling! What is happening? Freaking out here. You better not be dead.

Next new message.

Uh. Hey dude, it's Garth. I think the Human Torch just made a smoking hole in the middle of my pier. You, uh, you know, this usually has your name written on it. Maybe let me know what's happening?

Next new message.

Uhm, hey Dean. This is Sherriff Mills. Jody. A person with charred off wings just landed on my car? Somehow I think this may be your sort of thing, you know what I mean. Call me back.

Next new message.

DEAN WINCHESTER! I am a damn conduit for the inspired Word. You WILL call me back. NOW!

Next New Message.

CALL ME, YOU RAT BASTARD!'

Dean had to hold his phone away from his ear at the volume of Kevin's last message. He went back and deleted all of them, then started calling everyone and letting them know the little he knew. He made sure to call Kevin last.

Now there was nothing left to do but wait.

xXxX

The first sensation Cas had was pain. It was just sort of dull and everywhere all through his body. Everything hurt, but the more he thought about it, he thought his head and his wrists hurt the most. And his feet, and his legs.

He needed to know where he was. Opening his eyes was a struggle that almost sent him back into unconsciousness, but he persevered. After what seemed like several minutes, he was able to crack his eyes open, then blink them.

He seemed to be in a dim hospital room. Ugh, the last time he had been in a hospital was unpleasant enough. Not even a full day as a human and he was back here again. Not an auspicious start. He would have to work on a way to get his Grace back as soon as he got out of here. Cas looked around and noticed a figure sitting in a chair in the corner of the room.

He was slumped down, almost sliding out of the chair and his head resting on the back. His arms and legs were splayed out as if he were in a bed. Cas recognized it immediately as Dean. A pleasant warmth spread through Cas's chest realizing that Dean had found him. But why was he in this state?

The first and second attempts at speech only resulted in weak croaks. The third time, he managed to get out a mangled version of Dean's name. He tried again louder. "Dean?"

Dean startled out of sleep and sat up immediately, obviously not realizing he was barely on the edge of his chair and he slipped off of and made a very undignified noise, kind of like a mouse squeak. "Shit, Cas, pretend you didn't just see or hear that."

Dean straightened up and Cas felt like laughing, but something told him it would be very painful.

"What happened," Cas managed to croak out. Dean frowned.

"I was kinda gonna ask you the same thing. You want some water?"

Cas nodded and Dean helped him sit up to have a few sips of some cold water. It was a wonderful feeling.

Dean sighed. "I guess I should explain first. I managed to stop Sammy from finishing the trial. Just in time. But he got a lot worse, he was coughing up a lot of blood, so I knew I needed to get him to the hospital. We left the church and were about to get in the car when the angels started falling. Sam wouldn't leave without Crowley, so we all got packed up and left."

Dean cleared his throat. "I was speeding, driving way too fast. I came around a curve and you were standing there and I couldn't stop in time. You've got a bad concussion, almost fractured your skull. And you did break both wrists, so you needed casts till they heal. And you're scraped up real bad. I'm…I'm really sorry, Cas."

Cas made his eyes focus on Dean. This was a harder task than usual. "I am okay, Dean. Don't apologize."

Dean huffed. "You are so not okay, dude. What the hell happened up there?"

He had to struggle a minute to focus. "Oh. I went back to Heaven. Naomi was dead. Metatron had killed her. He…Held me down and cut my Grace out. He told me to live a normal life, and when I died to tell him my story. Then I was in the forest."

Cas paused. "My Grace, the heart and the bow were part of a spell to throw every other angel out of Heaven." Dean nodded.

"Many of them are dead now, aren't they?"

Dean sighed and sat down on the side of the bed. "Not many of them had soft landings. There'll be survivors, but there's no way to know what shape they'll be in…What they remember, what powers they'll still have…We just gotta wait and see."

Cas felt very floaty. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"You'll help me get my Grace back, right? As soon as I am able."

Dean didn't say anything for a minute. "Yeah, Cas. If I can."

Cas hummed happily then something tugged at him. "How is Sam?"

"They still won't let me see him, he's not stable enough yet. He was drowning in his own blood, they had to put tubes in his lungs to drain it out. They did some kinda scan and said he had lesions on the inside of his lungs, but they're already healing. It's just a miracle he didn't die before the healing process started. He's hooked to all kinds of machines and they got him on so many meds, and a blood transfusion."

The next words were softer. "I was so scared, Cas."

Cas tried, really really hard to reach over to Dean to comfort him, but he could just move his fingers some. "He'll be okay. He always is. You two are notoriously difficult to kill."

Dean chuckled at that. "That's true. But I was worried about you, too. I thought you were one of those angels falling."

He tried to move again, and this time Dean caught onto the movement and squeezed the fingers sticking out from the white cast.

Cas felt his eyes getting heavy. "They have me on some kind of soporific, don't they?"

Dean chuckled again. "You could say that. Nerd."

All was dark as his eyes closed. His last sensation was of Dean leaving the bedside. Cas wanted to ask him to stay but he was already asleep.

xxXX

The next month was hectic to say the least.

A week after the night that the news was referring to as 'The Night of Fire', Cas was let out of the hospital. Dean brought him a set of his own clothes to change into and then drove him back to the bunker. It was only about an hour's drive, so Dean had been making it back and forth pretty often. After Sam had woke up and was out of the ICU, he started asking for stuff like his computer and underpants, so Dean had been playing gofer. And he had to keep watch over Kevin, who had decided to work on the Angel Tablet, and the full Demon Tablet. Dean had to make sure he was eating and not taking his weight in No-Doze, like he did last time. Or getting shit-faced.

Cas seemed more than happy to be returning to the bunker. He hadn't liked the hospital. He complained that it smelled uncomfortably like Naomi's office in Heaven, and the concussion had made him grouchy for hours on end. Dean just left him to watch TV and sulk on his own.

But the concussion had healed and the doctor had taken the stitches out of the back of his head. Cas was unhappy that the casts couldn't come off for another few weeks, but he told Dean it didn't matter; he would have his Grace back by then, he was sure.

Kevin jumped up from the table in the library that he had claimed with a rain forest's worth of notes when they came in, running over and giving Cas a hug.

"It's good to see you, man! It sucked that Dean ran you over with his car…"

Dean hit the prophet in the back of the head. Not too hard. "I didn't run him over, dork. Get back to Google Translating."

Kevin just rolled his eyes, but headed for the kitchen.

Dean started towards the hall where the rooms were. "Come on Cas, got something to show you."

There were quite a few bedrooms in the Headquarters, and while most of them seemed to be on this hall, Sam had found some in other areas of the bunker, too. Before all the shit started going down, he had been thinking of making a map.

Dean opened the door to the room next to his. "This one's yours. I'm next door, Sam's is right across the hall, and Kevin is down at the end."

The rooms mostly looked the same. There was the bed, an old-fashioned brass frame with bars at the head. There was a desk with a reading lamp and some drawers, and a chest of drawers for clothes that they were going to have to go shopping for. And there was a bedside table with a clock and another lamp.

"Kinda plain, I know, but you can decorate however you want. This is your room, Cas."

He sat on the side of the bed, sinking into the memory foam. "Thank you, Dean. This is…good."

Dean felt his eyebrows shoot up. "Good?"

Cas nodded, looking around. "Yes. I will be able to have my Grace back soon, and won't have much need for this room. But now it is good."

Dean felt something, the familiar feeling of being pissed the hell off, even though he didn't really know why. He'd been keeping himself in check, partially because Cas being hurt was his fault, and partially because he didn't want to start anything.

He needed to go see Sam.

XxXx

"Hey, man. Get Cas home okay?"

Dean huffed and sat in the chair he pulled up next to the bed.

"Yeah, I did."

Sam shut the lid to his laptop. "What's up?"

"He is dead set on getting his Grace back. It's all he's focused on."

Sam coughed some. "I guess he'll need a lot of time to accept it, you know. That he's permanently human. It's gotta suck."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I get that. But what if he can get it back?"

Sam frowned. "I very seriously doubt that. I mean, for a spell, Metatron probably used the whole thing, and even if he didn't, won't Cas need all of his Grace?"

"I dunno, Sam. You'll have to do the research when you come back home. Cas is probably already in the angel section trying to find whatever he needs."

There was a tense silence. "Sam, he gets angeled back up again, you know what the first thing he's gonna do?"

Sam shrugged. "No, what?"

"He'll go and get the trials from Metatron, then he'll close the gates to Heaven. He'll be stuck up there forever."

He nodded. "Yeah, but we knew that before. He was going to close the gates and all the angels he ever pissed off were going to kill him."

Dean got up and started pacing. "Yeah, now he's stuck on Earth with all the angels he ever pissed off. What's the word on that, by the way?"

Sam opened the computer again. Since he'd gotten his laptop, he'd been doing what research he could. "Mostly, the ones who survived the fall, claim to remember their human lives, up to a certain point to where an angel asked them to be used as vessels. Then they remember some things off and on, until they fell. The smart ones have kept quiet and just gone back to their families, but some have gone on some shows, proving their powers. It seems to vary from angel to angel. Some can still heal, some can lift tons, some can read minds, or a combination of those."

Sam clicked around. "But they have lost the ability to teleport- we saw the wings burn off. And they can't make themselves invisible. I guess that was some kind of wing, cloaking thing. Also, they can die. But they can heal themselves, although it takes a while, which is why so many survived. So to kill one it would have to be a head shot, or setting them on fire, or beheading."

Dean nodded, storing the info. "So how many did survive?"

"Looking at sites from all over the world, different organizations put the number between seven and eight thousand."

Dean whistled. "Well, let's hope they learned their lesson by being kicked out by the pissed off librarian and maybe they'll leave everyone alone."

Sam gave him a Look. "Does that ever work for us?"

Dean didn't bother answering.

After a few minutes, Dean remembered something else he had been meaning to ask about.

"Any news on Crowley?"

Sam sighed and closed the computer, looking tired, pale and washed out, still hypovolemic the doctors called it.

"No. He just vanished from the room they had him in here."

"Abaddon, maybe?"

"Yeah. I think so. She mentioned something about a regime change down in Hell when she talked to him in the church."

Dean couldn't help shuddering. "That's only gonna lead to a whole world of pain, for everyone. Lilith was a bitch when she was in control, but that chick is flat out insane."

Sam yawned. "Well, she's not doing anything obvious so far."

Dean got out of his chair. "I'm gonna go back. You get some rest, man."

"All I do is rest, Dean," he grumbled, but his eyes were already closing and his breath evening out. He was knocked out by the time Dean closed the door behind him.

XXxx

The next day, Dean took Cas to the Goodwill in Lebanon to get his own set of clothes. When Cas asked why he couldn't just keep wearing Dean's clothes, it wasn't like he was going to be human for much longer, Dean just groaned in frustration and dragged him out of the bunker by the elbow while Kevin tried not to laugh.

Shopping with Cas wasn't nearly as bad as clothes shopping with Charlie. He picked out a few pairs of already well-worn jeans, and he chose a few Henley shirts like the ones Dean had that he had been comfortable wearing. He got some plain t-shirts, and some with designs on them that he said were 'interesting'.

Dean had to stop him when he wandered over to the sweaters, though.

"No, no, no. Only stuffy old men and douchebags wear sweaters."

Cas had done that head-tilt, 'I don't understand your human language' thing he did that Dean so did not think was kind of adorable.

"I'm often cold. I think it has something to do with not having the warmth of my Grace. And I recall often wearing sweaters during my time as Emmanuel."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that lady of yours had you whipped."

"She never whipped me, Dean."

They were starting to get Looks.

Dean steered him towards the jackets. "Here, look at these; much cooler than sweaters. You can layer up as much as you want."

Cas ended up finding a couple of corduroy jackets that he liked. Then he started looking at the coats. "Dean, look what I found!"

It was a beige trench, a little shorter than his old one that had been completely ruined, and it looked like it might fit him better, but it was extremely reminiscent. Dean shook his head. "No. Absolutely not."

"Please?"

Ugh. Sam must have gave him tips on how to make the sad puppy dog face during one of their hospital visits. The coat went in the buggy, needless to say.

Next were shoes. Dean told him he needed a pair of boots, in case he ever decided to go hunting with him and Sam, and Cas also picked out a pair of black canvas, Converse knock-offs.

The next store they hit was a Wal-Mart. Dean never had liked the idea of buying used underwear or socks, it just didn't seem hygienic. You never knew what had been in those things before, and some people were just nasty. There are some things no amount of washing can take out.

Dean left Cas looking at the underwear, which was apparently a very difficult choice, and went to get him a phone. Preferably the less complex the better. He grabbed one that looked like it was geared towards senior citizens. This would do.

He met back up with Cas who had picked out a couple packs of underwear and socks, and a set of undershirts. On the way to the checkout, Dean took a detour through the grocery part of the store and grabbed a pie and a pack of beer. He thought they might need some more stuff at the bunker, but the essentials would do for now.

XxXx

Two weeks later and Sam came home. And to Dean it was not a day too soon. It was kind of like Sam needed to be there to be the grounding force that kept Dean focused, and mostly out of trouble.

Really, it was Kevin's fault. He was taking a much more lenient approach to translating the tablets, and he found it was actually easier that way. So he took breaks and explored the bunker.

One day, he found where Sam had stashed Thor's hammer. They had taken it from that auction place and kept it in the trunk, but when they found the bunker they figured it needed to go in there.

Well, one thing led to another and Dean still had that Braveheart wig that Charlie had given him when he led the army at the Battle of the Kingdoms, and Kevin happened to have a talking Iron Man mask in the trunk of his car.

Dean really didn't want to explain the giant scorch mark on the ceiling of the kitchen. Maybe Sam wouldn't notice. At least he'd gotten the electricity back on.

The day before he was supposed to pick Sam up, Dean went on an appropriate supply run. The doctors had told him Sam would still need a high-protein diet to finish healing up and get his strength back, so Dean loaded up on meat and eggs and lots of vegetables and fruits because Sam would be bitching if he was on a meat and eggs only diet. He also got about five jars of tasteless, clear protein powder.

Sam was just as excited as Cas had been to be back at the bunker. Almost a full month stuck in the hospital and he had been ready to start climbing the walls. Dean had brought him a set of clothes to change into, and they swamped him now, but with the diet plan, Dean was sure he would be back to normal soon.

As normal as things got with the Winchesters.

While Dean had gone to pick Sam up, Cas and Kevin were tasked with hanging up the large 'WELCOME HOME!' banner and setting streamers all over the library and war room, even the banisters of the iron staircase.

If Sam teared up a little, well, no one was going to say anything. This time.

That night they had a huge dinner, and it almost felt like a Thanksgiving. Up until a certain point when Sam had glanced up at the ceiling.

"Hey, where'd that scorch come from?"

Damn it!

XxXx

A few days later, Dean was in his room. He'd just showered and had gotten dressed and was towel drying his hair when there was a knock at the door.

"Yeah?"

It was Kevin, and he looked pretty serious, and Dean guessed it was about whatever he had written in the notebook he was clutching to his chest.

"Uh, I wanted to come to you first with this, Dean."

"What is it?"

Dean sat on his bed and Kevin pulled the chair at the desk out. "I found a spell on the Angel Tablet. One calling for the heart of an angel and a human made one, an instrument to create love, and the Grace of a pure angel, one who loved humanity as much as God himself did."

"That's the spell Metatron used?"

Kevin nodded. "Yeah. Everything has to be used. Cas doesn't have a Grace to get back, otherwise this spell wouldn't have worked."

Dean sighed, half in resignation, half in relief. "I'll break the news to him later. Does it say anywhere about reversing the spell? Getting the angels back into Heaven?"

"Only an Archangel or God himself can undo this. It's pretty permanent, Dean."

"Okay. Good work, kid."

Dean stood up.

"How're you going to tell Cas?"

Dean shook his head. "I have no idea."

XXxx

Dean managed to procrastinate all day. He told Sam what Kevin had said, he made lunch, he replaced some light bulbs that had blown out, he tuned up the Impala, he waxed the Impala, he pruned the grass around the bunker door, he even started dusting some shelves in the library before Sam started giving him pointed looks and motioning to where the bedrooms were.

Dean knocked on Cas's door. He'd taken to bringing all the info the Men of Letters had gathered on angels and was looking through them in his room. He said it was quieter in there, away from the ruckus Kevin and Dean sometimes caused. "Come in."

Cas was hunched over his desk, as expected, leafing through a large file that was throwing dust up in the air.

"Cas, there's something we need to talk about."

He must have heard the seriousness in Dean's voice because he set the folder down and turned in his chair.

"What's going on?"

"Kevin found the spell on the tablet. The one Metatron used."

Cas perked up. "Okay, what did it say?"

Dean felt his heart break a little. "All the Grace has to be used, or the spell won't work. I'm…I'm sorry Cas, but you can't get it back."