Dean woke to the smell of burning plastic and the crackling of wood splintering from heat. Opening his bleary, sleep deprived eyes he immediately regretted it as they instantaneously began to tear up from the smoke surrounding him. Coughs wracking his bulky frame as he quickly made his way to the door, he made the mistake of grabbing the solid iron handle. As the pain seared through his arm he cried out, ripping his hand free before the skin had a chance to fuse onto the heated metal. Taking a few tense steps back, he braced his shoulder and rammed the door open, the oak cracking from the stress and swelling from the heat.
An inferno awaited him outside his room, smoke pouring in more ferociously than before. Ripping the sleeve off of his button up he was grateful he had forgotten to remove; he used it as a handkerchief to aid his breathing. Desperately, he searched the room for another means of escape before his eyes landed on the sole window on the opposite side. Testing the flame licked boards beneath his feet to ensure they would hold him, he ran out the window; Dean could feel the glass as it shattered on impact, slicing and embedding itself into his flesh.
The falling had never been his concern, the feeling of floating almost a relief as he felt the flames flare up and explode out the exit he had created in his haste. Too late he realized his room was on the third floor – there was no way he could get out without some kind of broken bone. The ground coming fast, he turned onto his left side, ensuring his ability to drive, write and other conventional actions. He felt his arm and ribs snap, heard the sickening sound of bones breaking like twigs under foot. As he fought back the urge to cry out once more he rolled onto his back and cradled his devastated side in his good arm. His breaths coming in short bursts, he forced himself into a seated position and regretted it instantly, the pain slicing through the ruined tissue of his back.
Crawling to the nearest tree, Dean forced his aching body to obey his command to stand as he stumbled his way through the dense forest cover. His pain addled mind tried to rationalize, tried to tell him that everyone else had made it out and that he should seek shelter for rest. As darkness ate at the corners of his vision he managed to reach a clearing. The last thing he saw as he lost consciousness was a man wearing a crumpled trench coat with possibly the most amazing blue eyes he had ever seen staring directly at him.
"Hello Dean."
It had taken less time than he had anticipated getting Jimmy Novak's cooperation. He was devout beyond fault, taking each test in stride and finally accepting him into his body with no qualms; he had only required the promise that his family would be safe. Hoping that he could keep well on his promise, he agreed and then flowed into Jimmy. His body felt different than Castiel had anticipated, far more complex than he had imagined. As he pulled his Grace into the man he left his wings in the realm in-between, knowing that they would not fit and would provide a reliable means of transport.
Wasting no time, he unfurled his wings and took flight, going to where he knew Dean to be. No matter what he had seen in Heaven, it did not prepare him for the physical sensation Jimmy provided him – the heat of the starving flames as they ate away at the remains of the house and its inhabitants. To ease his worried mind, yet only causing himself more turmoil, he discovered that almost everyone Dean cared about was gone. Yet the small glimmer of hope that was Sam Winchester live on despite the Angel's lack of knowledge that his escape could not have been of his own free will.
Turning his back to the flames, he willed his Grace to find Dean, laying it out like an intricate web until he felt a tug that could only have been the Righteous Man.