Castiel made his way to an abandoned warehouse a few towns over. He called out, "Metatron, you assbut, get down here." He heard a flutter of wings, and a honeyed voice behind him.

"Oh dear Castiel, I didn't expect for you to call on me! If I did I would have…" His words were cut off but the serrated edge of a knife being plunged up through his jaw and into his cranium. A clap of thunder rang throughout the building and a shockwave sent Cas spinning into the back wall. A light brighter and hotter than lightning filled the cavernous space and Castiel feared his eyes would be melted from their sockets regardless of if they were closed or not. When the glow finally faded, all that was left was Death's knife, a small pile of ash, and scorched onto the floor was the imprint of six gigantic wings.

Castiel tread lightly and bent to pick up the knife. "Goodbye, brother." He intoned, straightening and turning to leave that place behind him.

When Castiel went outside he looked up at the sun that was mocking him; not nearly as bright as his brother in his death throws, but vastly more important to the world around him. What Cas found even more horribly ironic was that that day was a Thursday, the day he used to govern along with Metatron.

Castiel had killed many of his brothers, many more had died, and Metatron cast the rest from heaven. However, Castiel did not, could not, anticipate the pang he felt as Metatron's swan song played. He looked down at the knife and realized that pang was caused by the true death of an angel. Not the expulsion to the other side of the universe that constitutes death for an angel, but true death, nothingness. Nothing awaits an angel in death, because they were never meant to die. There is a hole in the universe, and Castiel feels it most keenly.

Still he soldiers on. There is work to be done to get the rest of his siblings back to heaven.

Cas travels the world to find his siblings. Kevin found a part of the angel tablet that restores their grace to them. One by one his siblings take trials and pass, returning to heaven as its hosts. Castiel himself, however, chooses to remain human. Metatron's death scared him. Castiel wanted the insurance of an afterlife, especially with the knife in his possession.

However, there are downsides to being human. Pride and the ability to get drunk easily are two. "So, I got this knife right?" Cas slurs, waiving around the knife in question. "See? It can kill angels, like, forever." He hiccups.

Later on that night, he staggers back to his motel room. Forgoing a shower in favor of sleep, he drops the knife on his nightstand and falls onto his bed and into a blissful, drunken coma.

Silently as a shadow, a figure slips into the room. Shining black eyes cold as she surveys the former angel sprawled out on the bed. Sliding over next to the bed, she takes Death's knife and for good measure, slits Castiel's throat. Leaving triumphantly, flipping the knife and tucking it into her belt. (It should be mentioned that she dies a week later. The knife is taken, and taken again, each time leaving the corpse of its previous owner until it finally finds its way into storage. There it will remain until the storage house it is currently in burns down in 48,594 C.E. and it is the only thing that remains intact.)

Castiel woke to find himself in the booth of a small diner. "Care to have some before you go? I hear the chicken and waffles served here are the best." Death motioned to the stocked plates in front of Cas and himself, then continues with his meal.

"What am I doing here?"

"Final meal." Death drawls, taking another bite of his syrup covered chicken.

"Final… meal?" and then the penny drops. "I'm dead." Death nods approvingly.

"Very good Castiel, you are dead. However, you are also human, and in your time as human you have done some rather wonderful things. So, I hope you enjoy your little slice of heaven." Death smiled slightly, a genuine one this time. "It's time for you to rest, Castiel, your work is over." Death places two fingers on Castiel's forehead and when Cas looks up again he is in a field. Behind him is Bobby's house and beside him a very familiar '67 Chevy Impala. He stretches out his jet black wings luxuriously but sends a prayer out to anyone listening.

"Don't let them get here too soon."

Dean reads in the newspaper about a mysterious stranger who blew into a small town and was killed later that night. The reason? Well, it was expected that it was over the stranger's prized knife that was taken from his room. "The man claimed it could kill angels!" One bar patron told him.

Dean flashed his fake FBI badge at the motel and walked in to see the familiar form of Cas, his Cas, sprawled out on the bed. Barely managing to keep his composure, Dean gently removes Cas' trench coat and places it inside of Death's. He swings Death's coat over his shoulders, and leaves the scene with the officers wondering where he went.

And so, Death claimed the first member of Team Free Will.