Hannah roared with a rage that rivalled an archangel's. Her usually bright eyes burned with a ferocity the like of which Castiel had only ever witnessed in the eyes of his comrades as they laid siege to Hell itself. Her own light illuminated her pupils with a brilliant clear blue that, although nothing compared to the creamy yellow-white of Metatron's blaze, seemed to cut through the old scribe's glow like a laser through fog.

Metatron had made another, stupid, mistake.

As he showed off his godlike luminescence, Cas felt the pressure pinning him to the wall lessen. Judging by what happened next, he suspected the same was true of Hannah and Frederick's restraints.

Hannah flew forward with impossible speed, angelblade held tightly in her bloodied fist. At almost the same instant, Frederick charged towards Metatron from the side, unleashing his own howl of fury as his blade flashed silver-white.

Metatron's attention was focused on burning his smug smile into Castiel's very essence, and so wasted a crucial few seconds turning to face the sudden battle cries as two righteous angels, and their blades, thudded into him.

Metatron's ethereal light was abruptly extinguished, replaced by a gasping cry of pain as the angelblades found their marks. Frederick's jutted in below Metatron's borrowed ribs, angled up to pierce the stolen heart. Hannah's aim was truer still: her red-stained weapon sank to the hilt in the very centre of Metatron's chest.

The pressure imprisoning Cas abruptly vanished and he sagged on his feet. He bent down and snatched up the precious sack, but before he could straighten up fully, a concussion of power ripped through the air, punching its way out from Metatron and slamming Cas against the wall as Frederick and Hannah were thrown backwards.

Metatron straightened, releasing a great bellow of rage like a wounded boar, and another vicious shockwave pounded through the air. Cas's head struck the hard wall yet again and he thought he felt something crack. Hannah and Frederick hit the ground with harmonious thuds.

Hatred blackening his features like a storm cloud, Metatron took a measured step towards the fallen angels, the angelblades glinting in his chest as he moved.

"Nice trick," he almost whispered, venom dripping from every syllable. "It's a pity ..." he drawled, casually unsheathing Hannah's blade from his sternum, "that angelblades don't kill GODS!" The final word was an unearthly roar that seemed to contain a thousand furious voices all screaming in unison. Metatron lunged forward, blood dripping from the tip of the angelblade that was heading right for Hannah's heart.

"NO!" Cas bellowed, pushing off from the wall in a desperate attempt to block the weapon's path.

He was too late.

Frederick got there first.

One of the purest lights Castiel had ever seen filled the corridor, the force of it almost drowning out the tiny sound of Frederick's agonized gasp. Almost.

Metatron had driven the angelblade directly through the centre of Frederick's chest, burying the razor-sharp blade to the hilt. Frederick's eyes were open wide in shock and pain and fear as his life force exploded out from him.

As quickly as it had started, Frederick's last light abruptly ceased. His empty vessel flopped limply to the ground, over Hannah's legs. His broken wings were scorched across the corridor, and over Hannah's disbelieving face. Metatron pulled the blade out with a sickeningly scratching squelch and stepped forward over his brother's body, his weapon raised to strike again.

Adrenaline spiked with rage thundered through Castiel. He would not watch another friend die. Not another one. He would not allow it.

With a fluidity alien to such a weakened, dying body, Cas strode forward, his coat billowing out behind him. Two steps and he was right behind the fool god, his fist already flying through the air with all the force he could muster.

The sack Cas had smuggled from the office room slammed into Metatron's balding head with enough force to crack the skull. Metatron didn't so much as flinch. The contents of the sack clanked together as it fell to Cas's side, but he was already moving again, faster than he'd moved in months. With one swift yank, he pulled the angelblade from Metatron's side and less than a heartbeat later, it was sailing through the air into Hannah's outstretched hand, just as Metatron turned his fury on Cas.

The blade pierced Cas's skin just to the left of Jimmy Novak's belly button. It penetrated through his intestines on an upward trajectory, through the lower section of his stomach and connecting with the inside of the back of his ribcage, cracking the lowest rib along its length.

He had no air to voice the pain of it. Instead, a thin gasp was sucked through his lips, just like the one Frederick had uttered before he died, just as Dean must have gasped. The pain was simply too big to be embodied in a scream. It was stilling his lungs, buckling his knees, blurring his vision. He felt himself fall backwards, and the blade retreated the way it had come. The pain spiked and lightninged through him, as though angry its source had left it.

Cas didn't feel the impact as his ruined body hit the cold, rubble-strewn floor. He blinked slowly, pulling a shallow breath into his numbing lungs. Darkness crept into his vision, darkening the edges of the cracked ceiling above him.

Metatron loomed over him, that infuriatingly smug smile contorting his face. Red-tinged silver flashed in his hand as he twirled something around and around in his fingers. It took Cas a few moments to understand what it was. An angelblade, of course. That's what had killed Dean. If not for Metatron and his angelblade, Dean would be alive and human. And now Sam was risking his life to try and bring Dean back. If that was even possible. Cas still didn't think the cure would work, but nothing would stop Sam. He would never give up.

Metatron and the twinkling silver weapon floated closer.

Neither would Cas.

Summoning every ounce of reserved strength, Cas shuffled backward, pulling himself away from the threat on his elbows. As he did, Hannah sprung up beside him, standing between Castiel and Metatron.

"Cas?" she called to him, her eyes fixed on Metatron's. "Finish the spell."

Metatron scoffed. "How noble," he sneered. "Trying to buy him a few extra seconds of life, huh, Hannah?" The corners of his mouth turned down in mock sorrow. "Like it's gonna make a difference!"

With that, he lunged forwards.

Castiel saw Hannah's attempt at defence end in a too-abrupt jerk. A small prism of silver had appeared in the centre of her lower back. For a moment that contained an excruciating lifetime, Cas stared as a drop of burgundy blood dripped from it onto the floor. Then the moment was torn apart as Hannah's arms and head were flung backwards and light erupted from her, reducing her to a shadowy silhouette.

"NO! HANNAH!"

Her light faded. Metatron shoved her corpse to the side, withdrawing his weapon as he discarded her as though she meant nothing. Hannah fell on her side, one arm outstretched as though reaching for Cas. Her lifeless eyes stared unseeingly ahead. The light was gone from them. Gone from her.

Cas stared in disgust as Metatron stepped forward. Hatred rippled through him, briefly eclipsing the pain. Metatron had taken everything from him now. Heaven. His brothers. His sisters. Frederick. Hannah. Dean. Sam. Foolish though he knew it was, futile though he knew it would be, Castiel swore to his very heart that he would kill the pompous, egotistical bastard who had murdered so many people he loved.

"Such a foolish gesture," Metatron drawled in mock pity. "Nobel, sure. But foolish. And, ultimately ..." He closed the gap separating them in one final stride. Cas tried to shift backwards, his hands scrambling for a weapon that wasn't there. There was nowhere to go. The spell was smudged and distorted by Frederick's body and Cas's frantic attempts to escape. He stilled, glaring at Metatron, wishing looks could kill. Metatron flicked the angelblade once before firmly grasping it in a hand gloved with blood.

"Useless."