When an angel dies where do they go? We know of Heaven and Hell and the spaces in between but where do Heaven's soldiers lay to rest when there is nothing left to give and their wings spent? Some say there's a dark void in which the angels are trapped for the rest of eternity, while others imagine lives of grandeur. But no one truly knows the secrets behind God himself. Where did the protectors of Heaven and earth go when God was gone and their time is up? Castiel spent most of his life following orders and roaming Earth with no purpose or aspiration that was until he met the Winchesters. Questions rose, wars were fought, the Word itself rewritten. Yet the only thing that remained constant were those boys, the men who welcomed him into their tight-knit family with open arms. He would do anything for them. Hell he'd even given his life for them on a number of occasions. But that was no matter anymore. They were his family. And that's all that mattered to Cas.
He had been here before, this dark void. It was cold and lonesome, but not the way you feel sitting on a park bench alone on a rainy night. No, this was far worse. It was like having everything that made you existential ripped away, leaving you void of all feeling and emotion. Not that Cas was any good at feeling anyway, but for an angel he was considered quite emotional. He tried to remember how he had gotten here this time, piecing together the broken fragments of his memory. He remembered watching his brothers get struck down, turning into dust. Being trapped in the Impala with nowhere to go then getting ambushed and having the shit beat out of him in Heaven and cast out. But he remembered most of all, the look on Dean's face when he pleaded with him not to leave. He knew in hindsight it would have been best to listen to Dean but instead his actions put them both in danger. This had been becoming a pattern between them, but he had never been good at listening or taking orders, not completely.
The course of his day came trickling back one by one and there in the center of everything was Barachiel–a fallen angel who could summon lightning with a snap of his fingers and the fiercest guardian of the Throne. He was one of the most feared archangels under Lucifer who was supposedly killed by Michael himself during the resistance. Cas watched Michael strike the angel of lightning down. He had been there fighting side by side with his brothers, slaughtering his own kind for the sake of peace. That's how it always was though. Everyone says they want peace and the only way they know how to achieve it was by warfare and violence. Cas recalled once before man, before earth really, of a time when there was no war, just peace. He longed for a time like that once more, but the desire only made him feel foolish. The only peace he found these days were the ones he could spend with the Winchesters. He thought of Dean, wanting to ache and grieve for leaving him behind but he couldn't feel a thing. A question bubbled to the surface of his mind which pulled and pulled at him. Why?
It was only a matter of time until the void he was floating endlessly in plummeted to a dark pit, sending Castiel crashing down from weightlessness. The pit was dark and foggy, or what he presumed as fog. Either way he had to squint to see anything which he decided was a waste of effort. Upon pushing up from whatever solid surface he was laying on, he warily glanced up to meet two piercing ice blue eyes that cut through him like a knife. "Castiel. So glad you could make it. You know, I've been waiting for this day. To be reunited with my brothers and sisters. But the funny thing is, they haven't been as happy to see me as I have them." Cas rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Yeah… I wonder why." Barachiel was on Cas faster than he could catch his breath and held him up by his neck, robbing him of any air he had left in his lungs. "You know, Castiel," he seethed, "I've never liked being treated with disrespect. Why don't we try this again?" Cas felt a horrible pain sear through his abdomen, a silent cry escaping from his crushed throat. Barachiel grinned wickedly once more and dropped him nonchalantly to the floor. He stepped hack and brought his hand up lazily to inspect his fingertips, which were still cracklingwith electricity. "What fun this is, you and me. Here Together. Just like old times, isn't it?" Cas coughed and wheezed, looking down to see his clothes singed, again. He looked up to Barachiel, tears stinging his eyes from the gut wrenching sensation coursing through his body. "Why are you doing this?" he managed to croak out, his throat dry and sore. Barachiel spun on his heel leaning in closer to the struggling angel's face, his eyes wild with what Cas thought was either terror or just pure insanity. "I have my reasons just like you had yours, Castiel. Oh, and before you go calling me crazy, let's not forget who tried to play God here." Cas turned away hanging his head in shame and slumping over to clutch at his stomach which still seared with pain. Barachiel sighed, knowing well he hit a sensitive nerve. He smirked and wagged a finger at the crippled angel. "It's time you know what's really going on around here so pay close attention."