Castiel felt frozen. Somewhere cold and too small for his true form.

At first he thought he was in some sort of mist. His mind was hazy and his vision blurry. For a second, he thought he heard the voices of his brethren echoing from somewhere beyond. Their songs somber and low.

But his siblings were dead, and the sounds too faint to make out owner or meaning.

Castiel.

There was a different kind of voice though, and it was calling out to him specifically. It was saying something, but he couldn't understand it. Earnest and pleading — begging almost. But just like the rest, he couldn't tell who was seeking him. He couldn't remember where he was or what he was doing either. The mist existed both outside and inside his mind, blocking him from everything else.

Castiel!

It was only that one voice that grounded him. The only thing that seemed real and substantial. So he reached for it, and the world started to take shape.

"Castiel!" The first thing he noticed was Dean. He felt a rush of relief that Dean at least looked okay. Then he noticed the figure right besides the man.

Bobby. It was the Winchester's stubborn father-figure.

Castiel couldn't remember how or when, but he knew that the man was supposed to be dead.

There was something terribly wrong here.

"Dean!" Castiel called out, and after a moment's hesitation, "Bobby?" But neither figure turned towards him. Terror rushed through him as he realized that he couldn't move from his vantage point.

And his horror grew even more when he realized who they were looking at.

There was a figure wearing his face, looking prideful and insane.

…Why? Why did this scene feel so familiar?

"NO! Dean, Bobby! That's not me!" He chocked out, but neither heard him.

Luckily, the fake-Castiel wasn't looking at his friends, but at another pair of figures.

Crowley and Raphael stood opposing fake-him. Behind them is a wall with an array made out of blood. At the sight of it, the image of purgatory popped into his head.

He didn't understand. Both of them were supposed to be dead as well. This was an illusion. A dream of some kind. All of them here were impostors. Dean was the only one that could be reasonably real (alive), and he couldn't hear Castiel.

Crowley, fled the scene. The fake-Castiel had let him go.

But when Raphael tried to do the same, she's stopped.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Castiel knew exactly what will happen next.

He watched the fake-Castiel raise his hand and then snapped.

But Raphael didn't explode into blood and guts. Instead she turned to him — the real him watching everything in absolute terror — and asked, "Do you regret this moment, Castiel?" A cynical, scornful smile graced her face.

Around them, Dean, Bobby and the fake - Castiel were frozen in time. Castiel stared at them in worry, then narrowed his eyes at her. "Who do you think you are? Unfreeze them!"

"Did you actually want to see yourself kill me again? You're even crueler than I remember."

"Who are you?" Castiel could only stare at her in suspicion.

"Do you not recognize your own brother? And after I took the effort to appear to you in the form you last saw me." And suddenly, all his memories came rushing back. At the same time, the ice in his muscles melted, only for him to collapse to the floor. The scenery around them started to waver and distort. He casted a pained glance at his human companions before they dissolved into the darkness, leaving nothing but him and the archangel.

Leviathans… becoming god… betraying his family…

And that was just the start of it.

Breathing heavily, he looked up.

"Raphael? - that's impossible. You're dead." He gathered himself up, clenched his fists and stood up ready to fight, though he had no defense against his former arch-enemy.

"Yes, we've established that."

"Then how…?" More and more, memories where rushing into his head. Images of death and betrayal were making him nauseous and heavy hearted. Except he didn't have a beating heart anymore, didn't he?

Raphael gave a impatient sigh. "Haven't you caught up yet?" She walked a little ways from him, and the world started to establish its self around her with each step.

…I'm dead as well, Castiel suddenly realized.

The scene, like before, was incredibly familiar. It was the extravagant home of an opulent man that somehow got into heaven. It was also where he had once sat down to talk with Raphael in an attempt at peace, only for Raphael to beat him up and order him to submit before her.

"Welcome to the Empty." Raphael's voice was mocking. She sat down gracefully on the armchair, relaxed and uncaring even as Castiel's world fell apart before her. "And before you get any ideas, this death will stick. There's no chance of God bringing you back again."

And that was enough to shock Castiel back to the present. Somehow, he too was sitting across from her. No, he thought, there's got to be away. Jack — I promised I'd take care of him! Sam and Dean are waiting as well! He focused himself towards the present. "This doesn't exactly look like nothingness," he growled through gritted teeth.

"Can't you tell? You're dreaming, Castiel." Raphael was acting surprisingly patient. " 'In the Empty, Angels are laid to rest.' It just so happens that being asleep allows us to have quite the vivid dreams."

Castiel vaguely remembered something like that. From a lesson or a tablet or a teacher back when he was just a young fledgling. Dreams in the Empty were that of one's miseries and regrets, which explained the scene earlier. The start of perhaps the worst period of his life — one that never really ended. "That doesn't explain you being here."

She raised a single eyebrow. "There's no need to be so hostile. Or is there some reason you're so opposed to my presence?"

Castiel gripped his armrests. Memories of their war flashed across his mind. Even now in death, it seems, Raphael still kept on her mask. Playing the dutiful and harmless older sibling while looking down on him and plotting to stab him in the back. "Forgive me if you don't remember," he shot back, "but our last meeting wasn't exactly the most pleasant. I wouldn't surprised if you planned to somehow take your revenge on me."

Raphael made no movement, but Castiel suddenly had the impression of her rolling her eyes. "We've already settled the score, haven't we? I killed you, then you killed me. Now the world's gone blind." Raphael, as far as Castiel remembered, was never the joking type. But he also knew that she wasn't the type to spend her time visiting lower-ranking angels for small talk.

So Castiel remained unconvinced.

"We're both dead, you fool," she finally snapped at him.

"And you decided to spend your afterlife harassing me." He finally leaned back and couldn't help but look around again. This place was exactly like he remembered it.

"Do you still think that I would waste my time doing something as petty as that?"

When he next looked at Raphael, he was using the form of his male vessel, Donnie Finnerman, again. Castiel tilted his head in confusion."I don't know what it is you want, but it can't be good." He narrowed his eyes. "Then again, I don't think you have the power to do much - to do worse," He clarified. Angels weren't supposed to have power in the empty, yet Raphael seemed to have some sort of control over these dreams. Was it because he was an archangel, or was it something Castiel could learn and do himself?

He was already making plans: first escape Raphael, then figure out how to get back to the living.

"Is that really all you can come up with?" Raphael glared at him, and stood up abruptly. "That I would waste effort to find you and give you consciousness for something as petty as revenge?" And the world shifted, the ground quite literally disappearing from beneath his feet.

And Castiel suddenly realized that he had, once again, pissed off an archangel.