Bright blue eyes stay locked on the human's back as he walks away. Dean trudges back toward the house quickly, shoulders rigid and hands clenched tightly into fists. He thuds up the steps of the porch, opening the door to the house. All the while, Castiel is staring. His mouth is still agape slightly at the harsh words from his lover and his shoulders are slumped in defeat. He tries to will Dean to turn around, to come back. He cannot believe that this is it, that Dean would throw everything that they have made together out of the window so willingly. And yet as he hears the front door slam shut it sounds undeniably final.

"Hannah," his voice sounds so overcome with sadness, entirely crushed by the realization of Dean's cruel words, "I have made my decision."

Stop saying that you love me! I don't love you, okay? Do I have to spell it out for you?

Castiel moves a hand up to clutch at his chest, fingers tightening in the white fabric of the shirt that Dean had altered to accommodate his wings. He has existed for thousands of years and not once has he felt this sort of pain and betrayal. His eyes burn as they fight back tears and he finds himself unable to say anything else to the woman next to him.

She rests a gentle hand on his shoulder, knowing very well that Castiel was upset but unable to feel any sort of empathy for the fallen angel. She was not permitted to be on earth for long periods of time, and therefore could never hope to understand the sort of connection that Castiel has formed. A hint of disgust churns in his stomach. None of the angels would understand. They lacked the ability to feel such intense emotions.

"Castiel-"

"We need to do this now," he interrupts, pulling away from the comforting hand and straightening up, trying to hold back his tears. "Please, Hannah. This has to be done now." Before he regrets it.

The dark haired woman's eyebrows furrow and she frowns slightly. The look on her fallen brother's face told her that his decision was clear. She knows she is not to question Michael's orders but something about the pained expression on Castiel's face makes her ask, "Are you sure?"

"Do it now. Please." He does not want to think about the choice. He does not want to know if this will lead him down a path that he will regret, or how his life could be if he chose the other option. He simply needed the choice to be made. "Now," he says again in a choked voice, shutting his eyes tightly to block out the world. His body goes tense in anticipation, fists clenching hard at his sides.

He feels Hannah's smaller, more delicate hand rest on his forehead before having to hold back a cry as the space behind his eyes burns white.

The moment Dean hears the door slam shut behind him is the moment he allows himself to breathe. He takes a few deep and ragged breaths, fists clenched tightly at his sides. How could Castiel do this to him? He had been considering going back to heaven and had not even told Dean.

The blonde moves his hands up into his hair, grabbing a handful of it in each hand as he walks into the room, pacing back and forth as he tries to calm down. A feeling of dread rests within him, bubbling up into anger at his chest. He needed to scream, but could not bring himself to hear the sound. And so he continues pacing, body completely tense and in need of some way to release the pressure building inside of him.

Dean keeps reminding himself that the angel gave him no choice but to say the things that he had. He knew very well that Dean could not live knowing that the angel had given up his life in heaven for him again. Castiel had an opportunity now to return back to how things used to be. He could be an angel again. There was not any other option.

We can figure this out together. It'll be alright.

The anger becomes too much. A broken yell escapes Dean's throat as he grabs the nearest object, which happened to be the side table to the couch. It topples it to the ground, sending the lamp on it shattering to the ground.

He remembers the last time he had gotten this angry, when Sam had left again. Castiel had waited for him to calm down before readily comforting Dean when he needed him to. This time the angel was gone, leaving no one who could pick up the pieces.

Dean yells again as he kicks at the broken lampshade, feeling the need to release as much of his anger as he can. He knew better than to direct his feelings at himself, Castiel could no longer take the fault, and he needed something else to direct his rage at, which made anything in his path a viable option.

His vision blurs as he continues, unsure of how much time passes yet knowing it could not have been more than a couple of minutes. His mind is cloudy with a mixture of emotions as he finally calms down enough to head toward his bedroom. There was nowhere else to go. No point in standing around his living room. His jaw is set, angry at the rest of the world as well as himself.

Dean turns the corner, making it to his bed in just a couple of strides but coming to a dead stop as he stares at the mattress scattered with feathers. They litter the mattress and sheets sparsely, only five or six, but still enough to bring back images of the angel. Earlier that morning, the stray black feathers had reminded him that he was no longer alone; now, they made him feel more abandoned than ever. He reaches down in a fit of anger and gathers up the dark feathers in a fist, needing to be rid of the reminder.

The trash can is only a few feet away, and so Dean turns on his heels to step closer to it, stopping once again as he notices the article of clothing that is draped over the back of the chair in the corner of the room. He becomes distracted, stepping toward the wooden chair and lifting up the beige fabric from the back of it. He holds the trench coat to his chest with his free hand, still squeezing tight to the feathers. His chest is tight as he attempts to fight back his emotions, ultimately failing.

He steps backward, staring down at the fabric in his hands as he finally breaks down, regretting everything that has happened this morning. He did not want for Castiel to leave. He needed him. He loved him. Why could he not have realized it sooner?

The pain was excruciating. It took everything the angel had for him not to scream out as he felt his very soul being ripped apart. His jaw was clenched shut tightly with his entire body rigid. His skin burned hotly as if he were standing in the midst of a fire, and yet still he made no sound.

The process took several hours. He thought it would be quicker when he agreed to this and yet it continues, burning his skin and leaving him unable to breathe as he feels his grace slowly being pulled from him.

Eventually his body goes numb and he drops to his knees as he collapses. His body falls forward, the side of his head resting against the cold dirt and dew covered grass. His ears ring loudly with a high frequency, making time almost impossible to calculate. At one point he thinks that he can make out Hannah telling him "Good luck." But besides that, he cannot comprehend anything outside of his own being.

Castiel felt incredibly hollow. His grace had taken up so much of who and what he was. Without it, the world was quiet. He could no longer feel the world spinning around, the life around him, or the beating of his own heart. All of these sensations that he had become accustomed to as an angel on Earth were suddenly gone. Now, all he could feel was the soreness in his limbs and back and the grass that tickles the side of his face as he phases in and out of sleep.

His eyes open slowly, greeting him with the dark evening's moonlight, green grass, and rich dirt at his nose. He summons all of the strength left in his body to allow him to stand up. The entire day had passed by without him knowing. Hannah is nowhere in sight, and Castiel can only assume that she already returned to heaven. It takes a moment to regain his sense of balance, but he does not waste time in approaching the house. Not once did he stop to think about what Dean would say to him. He did not consider that Dean could send him away or if he would be welcomed with open arms. He did not care. He simply needed to see the other man. To know if he had meant what he said.

The living room is a mess, books and furniture thrown and misplaced, accompanied by shards of broken glass that Castiel has to carefully step over to navigate. His heart drops at seeing how terrible of a state the house was in, only able to imagine how Dean must be coping. Perhaps the blonde did care enough to feel something at knowing Castiel was going to leave.

Castiel has to stop halfway to the bedroom, shutting his eyes tightly as he becomes dizzy due to not having recovered from the extraction of his grace. His shoulder supports him as he takes a few deep breaths, trying to hold onto his consciousness despite the soreness of his body and mind. Finally, he enters the bedroom.

"Dean."

The blonde does not move, seeming as though he has not heard the other man. He lays curled up on the bed, facing away from the doorway and surrounded by feathers. Castiel's trench coat is pulled close to his chest and an empty bottle of whiskey is in one hand. His eyes are closed as he had likely fallen to sleep already, likely from drinking so much.

At not receiving a reply from the other man, Castiel walks forward and hesitantly moves onto the bed beside him. He stares down at the ex-hunter, noticing the swollen red splotches around his closed eyes and the hard frown that overtakes his face in his sleep.

Castiel feels another wave of dizziness come over him, causing him to give up and lay down beside Dean. He pries the bottle from Dean's hand and sets it on the nightstand before scooting closer to his lover. He fights his eyes to stay open, slowly finding himself losing. Unable to do much else, he pulls the other man close to him, holding him tightly to protect him while he sleeps.

Waking up does not come easily to Dean the next morning. His mind woke up long before the rest of him, floating in and out of consciousness as his eyes refused to open. He does not remember much of what happened the night before, but judging by the pain his head was in, he realizes that he likely had a bit too much to drink.

He groans quietly, finally managing to move a bit as he scoots closer to the warm body beside him. He feels the other man's arms wrapped protectively around him as they usually are, and he cannot help but smile slightly in his dream-like state. His forehead rests against Castiel's own and he begins to move his hand up to rest on the other man's chest. As he does so, he realizes how tightly his hand is clenched, and that he is holding a handful of something very tightly.

Feathers.

His eyes open quickly as the memories of the day before come crashing back into him. The angel named Hannah, telling Castiel he did not love him, the angel supposedly leaving, tearing apart his house, and drinking himself into a deep sleep.

"Cas," he says almost silently in disbelief as he stares at the man in front of him, seemingly unable to say anything else. His mouth gapes open slightly in disbelief as a range of emotions pass over his face.

The fallen angel's eyes open the instant Dean calls for him. He stares at the other man, unable to form words. He had been so sure that he wanted to put Dean before anything else, but did not know whether it would be best to stay on Earth or return to Heaven. Now that the one he has returned to is speechless before him, he fears the worst. "Dean-" he tries to say, only to find himself cut off by a pair of lips covering his own and moving frantically against his in a messy and eager kiss.

Castiel tries to speak through the kisses at first, wanting to explain himself to the ex-hunter in any way that he can, but only manages to get out a couple of syllables. He eventually gives up, relaxing into the kiss and feeling one of Dean's hands tightening in his white shirt, while the other is running into his hair. He kisses Dean back eagerly, letting his lips move against the other pair. He is sore all over and yet he ignores the pain in favor of holding Dean closer.

"Cas, Castiel, I'm sorry," Dean finally rushes out between kisses, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I didn't mean any of it, I want you here." The hand holding onto Castiel's shirt still has the feathers clutched tightly within it. "I didn't mean it-"

"Dean," the brunette interrupts as his hand moves to cup the side of the other's face, guiding him to look the other in the eyes. "It's okay. I know. You do not have to say so. I already know, Dean, and I'm here now. I'm staying here." His fingers continue brushing gently along the other man's stubble as he leans in to kiss softly at the blonde's cheek bones and the bridge of his nose, trailing the light pecks across his freckles.

"But Hannah," Dean begins, holding tight to the other as if he did not believe that he would stay, "She said that there would be a punishment. What's going to happen? Aren't you in danger?"

At this Castiel shifts uncomfortably. He does not want to worry the man in front of him, but knows it is better to inform the other now before he realizes it on his own. "Dean," he says quietly, pressing another kiss to his cheek softly, "My wings-"

He has no time to finish. As soon as he gets the words out, the blonde is reaching past him to grasp at the wings that are no longer there. "Cas, your wings. What happened? Where-?" His face is one of confusion as he runs his fingers over the fallen angel's back.

"Dean, I can explain," Castiel says quietly wincing at the touch on his back. He moves to sit up, followed quickly by Dean. He moves off the bed, stumbling slightly due to his impaired balance. He turns his back to the ex-hunter, carefully pulling the white cotton shirt, over his head. He winces slightly as the fabric grazes over his sore back, taking a shaky breath at the air hitting the cuts.

Dean stares at the other man's back, mouth agape at what he sees before him. He scoots out of bed to stand behind the brunette, reaching out hesitantly and resting his hand on Castiel's upper back, between the two deep red gashes on his shoulder blades. They are bright red as if the cuts were fresh, with dark purple and green bruising surround the lacerations. His stomach churns as he stares at the marks, unable to imagine how painful this must have been.

"Both my wings, and my grace were removed," Castiel explains quietly, keeping his head down as he holds back a quiet hiss at the pain in his upper back.

"They took your grace?" Dean asks quietly, unsure of what this means, "Isn't that what makes you an angel or something?" At a brief nod from the shorter man, his eyes widen. "You aren't an angel anymore?"

Once again the other man can only nod in response as he tries to gather himself together. He takes a breath before turning to face the blonde. "That is correct," he says with a tremulous and tired smile, "I am mortal."

Dean finally releases that feathers that had been held tightly in his grip, letting the dark plumes float gently to the ground. "Cas," he says quietly, reaching up to cup both sides of the dark haired man's face, "I'm so sorry-"

"Don't," Castiel interjects quickly, "Do not apologize Dean." He reaches his hands up to hold either side of Dean's face, pressing his forehead to the taller man's. "I made this choice myself. I wanted this. I've wanted this for a while now."

"But, you're human aren't you? You're just human. Eventually you'll age and-"

"And I'll die. Everyone else will too, Dean. You say this as if it is something horrible." He pauses briefly, pressing a soft kiss to Dean's lips, "But it isn't. I knew that if I were to stay an angel, I would have to watch you grow old and die, Dean. I can't do it. I want to be here with you through it all. Even if it means my life is significantly shortened by being mortal, I want to spend all of the time I have with you." At the shocked look on Dean's face he hesitates before continuing, "I want to spend my life with you Dean, because I love you. I understand if you do not feel the same, but I could not return to Heaven after realizing this. I love you."

Castiel seems to hold his breath, afraid to be rejected by the other man, but hopeful that they may start a new life together. He feels Dean's lips press against his softly. The kiss is slow and sweet, seeming to convey everything Dean felt toward the other man in one moment. He was thankful that the one who has protected and loved him for so long has returned to him, that he plans to stay here with Dean. He feels a warming happiness spread through him as he hears those three words spoken, reminding him that he is no longer alone.

"I love you too."

I'm not crying you're crying.

Seriously though this is the first multichapter fanfiction that I have ever completed and it's been so amazing to write and you all have been so supportive and kind and patient with me throughout.

While this is the ending on the main story for Dean and Castiel there is so much left to write. I plan on starting Sam's sequel very soon (Running From Grace), as well as a few more stand alone one shots that fit within this AU (for both Destiel and Sam's story). Once both fanfictions have been completed in their entirety there will be a final story merging the two works, as well as an epilogue. They will all be posted in the series "Escaping Grace" (which is sadly on AO3, there is no way to merge works on fanfiction so I urge you to either keep an eye out on my tumblr, AO3 account, or my fanfiction account here.) Also, If you have any questions at all or would like to see any other specific moments in Dean and Cas's relationship I would be happy to write and add them to the series.

Once again thank you all so much for coming with me through his journey. I cannot articulate how much this has meant to me.

Thank you.