Then:

Our grace has been weakened to the point where it will be difficult to hide our wings from humans, never mind trying to fix this." The grey winged angel told his brothers. "Only our Father could have done it. We can't access Heaven to ask Him, and I doubt any angels will want to assist us." He bit his lip, not wanting to admit their predicament.

"We need help."

Castiel felt an enormous force appear in America, an almost unfathomable power pushing against the Earth itself. He felt overwhelmed by it, miniscule in its presence. It reminded him of the Heaven of long ago, when their Father had been there, encompassing all in his warm embrace of love. That Heaven was long gone. It had faded the movement that God had left them, leaving the world in their care. Leaving Heaven to fall into chaos. He stood still, not daring to move as he was flooded in a warm grace.

As suddenly as it had appeared, the familiar strength disappeared, leaving a cold, empty void in Castiel's heart that it had once filled. The gap it left on the Earth was quickly filled by the natural grace of the world rushing back to its old spot, settling in comfortably.

Well, not exactly. It hadn't truly left, at least not all of it. It was more like a fire that had been doused in water. There were still a few burning embers of power left. About four, to be exact. He wondered if this would be something the Winchesters would hear about. Could humans feel the power press against the ground, creating a magnet for stray grace? Would the humans be attracted to it, as most creatures were?

He decided to tell to the brothers about it. The remaining four beings concerned him, though he loathed to admit it. He knew now that there had originally been five, with the fifth being the impossibly strong one, possibly God Himself, but it had left, leaving the others on Earth. The combined energy of the lingering creatures was equal to maybe a high-level seraph, but that was it. There were many was the power could be divided. One could be strong as a seraph and the others could be weak as a cherub or possibly they could all be fairly strong, maybe equal to a normal angel's power. He wouldn't be able to tell until he got closer.

With a soft flap of his wings, Castiel disappeared from the empty parking lot where he had mused, and set off to the Winchester's home.

Dean sat alone in a motel room, waiting for Sam to come back with some takeout for an incredibly late dinner. They hadn't been getting along to well lately, with the stress from the apocalypse and all. He knew that Sam still blamed himself for causing it in the first place, and Dean wasn't too sure what he thought himself. He couldn't just walk up to his brother and tell him that it was his fault that they now had to stop two dickish archangels from using their bodies to destroy half the world.

The news played on the TV behind him, a comforting droning hum as he searched the internet for information about a little girl who had gone missing from a town not too far from here. Apparently she had been left at a park by her father while he had gone to run some errands. When he had returned, she was nowhere to be found, and the park was deserted. It made absolutely no sense. The father had said the park was full of families before he had gone. Where had they all gone to? Had they fled from something?

A voice broke him from his thoughts. It was the television. He turned it up, paying attention now. "... reports are flooding in from South Dakota, where a freak earthquake has startled the residents of Jefferson County. There are no deaths reported as of yet, though twenty seven are injured, none seriously. Experts are baffled as to why there has been seismic activity…" He bit his lip, wondering if he should call Cas to ask him about it, whether the freak earthquake had a more sinister cause than some undiscovered fault.

A hand touched his shoulder, jerking him from his unintentional daze. He jumped, looking up to see none other than the angel he had been thinking about. Castiel looked at him seriously, not saying a word. The dark-haired seraph looked almost… well, almost weary. Yes, that was it. Cas looked drained, as though something had given him hope, and then ripped it away. The eldest Winchester didn't dare try to guess what had happened.

"You okay?" Dean asked, the shock from his sudden appearance wearing off. Castiel looked down, biting his lip as if he had no idea what to say. "I heard about some freak earthquake in South Dakota, were you there?"

"No, I wasn't, though I did feel something." Castiel admitted, looking away for a moment as he paused to search for the right words. "Dean, something powerful was there, something stronger than anything I've ever felt."

Dean's eyes widened slightly. "Do you have any idea what it is? Where did you feel it?" He rubbed a hand through his sandy hair. Sam wouldn't like this. New, powerful players in the game. He silently prayed that they weren't on Hell's side, and then stopped, remembering that Cas could hear prayers. The seraph looked over at him for a moment, looking a tiny bit exasperated at the human. Dean smiled a bit in spite of himself. His expression was priceless.

"There were five beings, but the fifth left. The remaining four are much, much weaker than the fifth creature. I believe they are the cause of the 'freak' seismic activity." Castiel finished. Dean nodded slowly. That made no sense at all to him, but that wasn't really the problem. The problem was that Cas wasn't telling him what they were. Castiel was old, though he didn't act like it most of the time. He'd been around for thousands of years, he'd seen things that Dean couldn't even imagine, and he obviously had no clue what this thing was, but he didn't want to admit it.

"Well, we may as well start heading -" Dean stopped as he heard the telltale creak of the motel door opening. He looked over quickly, whipping his gun from his waistband and pointing it towards the door. He lowered it once he saw Sam entering holding two takeout bags from a nearby Chinese place. Sam glanced around at his brother and the angel, slightly confused and worried. Dean groaned a little, his back protesting.

"Hungry?" Sam asked, lifting up one of the bags. Dean shook his head slowly in exasperation. His brother could be so dense sometimes.

"Sam, we need to leave. Cas says he felt some super powered freak in South Dakota and some freaky stuff's been happening there." Sam nodded.

"Okay. He have any clue what they are?" Dean was about to scold his brother about not directly addressing the angel, but when he turned around he saw that Castiel vanished.

"Goddamn angels."

The four archangels stood in a circle with their backs facing towards the inside, wings folded tight against their spines. Each of them held a long, sharp blade. Each was unique, crafted by God to protect them. Michael's had been meticulously engraved by the archangel himself in the time before Lucifer had been created, when he had drifted through space, alone in the void. His Father had been too busy creating to watch the angel, and He had left him to his own devices, with only the knife to guard him from danger.

Lucifer's blade was stained crimson to the hilt, a reminder from their Father of all the brothers he'd killed long ago. The handle was covered in markings like Michael's, but rather than just beautiful carvings, the devil's was coated in enochian writing. The script had been added while he languished in his cage, stories of the seemingly eternal torment he'd faced.

The two younger archangels' swords were rather plain in comparison to their brothers'. They were almost uniform blades, nearly the same as their millions of younger brothers, except that theirs were larger. Gabriel's had some lettering of enochian on the grip of his, a reminder he had written himself while he'd been on Earth. The letters spoke of loyalty and remembrance of the glory of Heaven. Raphael's had no markings, nothing marring the deadly beauty of the metal. He said he liked the way it looked, but a long time ago Lucifer had teased that he and Gabriel were too afraid that they were going to mess up to mark their blades.

All four of the brilliant swords were gripped tightly by their owners. Michael and Lucifer's stained with blood as black as night. The blood of the demons that surrounded the weakened angels. Someone in Hell had obviously felt their presence touch Earth, and had decided to check it out. Once it had seen the archangels, it had clearly chosen to tell Crowley about this opportunity to rid the Earth of them. And that lead them to where they were now, too exhausted to fly, too weak to smite all the demons, and not powerful enough to continuously heal themselves while they physically killed each and every demon.

Though no demon could slay an archangel without one of their swords, they could injure them to the point where they would fall unconscious, either from lack of grace or a multitude of injuries. Then the fiends could steal one of their blades and kill them all.

They were, as Dean would say, screwed.

Soon:

The crack echoed through the ears of every being that stood in the field, bringing all the movement and fighting to a sudden halt. Michael's scream of agony followed an instant after, shattering the eardrums of every demon that remained. The smartest had disappeared in a cloud of black smoke, knowing what was to come next.

Then:

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, wrapping Michael's miniscule grace in his own. How dare he come here now, when they are all too weak to smite the deserter. He had not only rebelled against Heaven. No, he had rejected Hell as well. He had chosen a few humans over every single one of his brothers. As if they were worthy of it. As if they mattered.

"Castiel."