Dean turned around.
The scene had changed completely.

The room he was now standing in resembled the Greenroom which Zachariah used to land his ass in every time he was due for a "talk". But this room felt much more... alive. Dean didn't waste much time observing the room though. Metatron's punk ass was standing right there. His fingers were laced together loosely and he was leaning up against a fancy armchair. Upon seeing his face, Dean wheeled back around. He was half-expecting to find himself back in that concrete room with his brother and Castiel, but this was no mere illusory trick.

"—No," he said, feeling the cream-colored wall now right in front of him. The hunter spun back to Metatron. "NO!"

"Yes," Metatron answered loftily.

"Send me back! RIGHT NOW!"

"Or what?" the angel challenged.

"OR HE'LL DIE!" Dean nearly lunged forward, but he stopped himself, "Cas will DIE!"

"As he is meant to," Metatron dismissed with quirked brows and a flyaway hand gesture.

"Oh, you son of a bitch-"

"What?" Metatron questioned, baffled by Dean's passion. "He is the villain in this story. Everyone played their parts magnificently! Especially you!"

"So this is your end game?" Dean glowered, "Lifting my ass to the top floor, killing Cas, and–" He couldn't even bear to bring up Sam.

"I prefer to think of that as me raising you from perdition."

Dean almost threw himself at Metatron.

"...Well I got news for you, pal. The only villain in this story is the one I'm looking at right now. And he is one ugly mother-"

"Not your best spiteful comeback, Dean," the short angel dismissed, looking vainly at his fingernails.

"Send me the hell back. Right now."

Metatron paused, allowing his eyes to sweep over the room pensively.

"... Maybe I should," he mused, before acknowledging Dean with a nod, "I mean, that could have been something interesting to see play out." He stepped away from the armchair, and made a grandiose sweep of his arms, "The great Dean Winchester sacrificing himself in a last-ditch effort to save his best friend. But tch-tch-tch," he clicked, shaking his head, "That would be pretty risky, wouldn't it?"

"You only plucked me from the Veil because you knew it would work," Dean assumed.

"Perhaps," Metatron shrugged.

"If it was risky, it would only be risky because... well, you can't leave any loose ends, can you?" the hunter forced a smug, sarcastic smile.

"Now you're getting it," Metatron brightened, amused by his train of thought, "You're thinking like a writer now."

"Oh, well congratulations to me. Where's the party?"

"I'm never going to get tired of your snark, Dean," Metatron was smiling humorously as he wagged a finger at the human, chuckling, "and that's the God-honest truth."

"Your dad must be so proud of you."

"Well, I think our time here is up," said the angel, as he glanced at a wrist watch that wasn't there, "Running the universe is pretty time-consuming-"

"Wait," Dean interrupted, "no, you gotta send me back."

"Sorry, Dean," Metatron shrugged sympathetically, "No can do."

"SEND ME BACK!"

"You don't have much of body to return to," he pointed out, "What, you'd rather suffer in the Veil for the rest of your–afterlife?"

"YES!" he blurted out. Metatron chewed on this. His jaw slacked, and slide side to side as his eyes strayed off again. His teeth clicked and his eyes returned to Dean.

"No."

"You DICK-"

A holy light shone, and swallowed up Dean faster than he could spit out the rest of his sentence.

"Au revoir, Dean," Metatron waved him away, "Enjoy eternal paradise."