The song here is "While You're Away" by The Letter Black

While You're Away

Castiel walked into Heaven, into the chaos that frightened him. He looked at all the angels that tried to rush to the aid of those that were injured in the strike against Hell. The look on their faces was sheer terror and disbelief.

As he stepped further among his fellow angels, some mumbled that it was impossible; a force so strong to destroy angels without physically touching them. There was no force like that since… God. But this was not God.

They also whispered a name: Micah. Whoever was this Micah, the angels now turned to him for guidance as they once, long ago, did to Castiel. Was this all his doing? Calling off the attack and caring for the injured?

As Castiel walked past them all like a ghost, he couldn't help but notice that he had not yet seen Hannah. He scanned the faces as he looked at the gashing wounds that seemed like no amount of grace could heal, he kept thinking of her, wondering if she was alright. The more wounds he saw, the more he felt frightened and then he felt like he had failed them… again.

"You dare come here?" an angel asked and when Castiel looked up, it was one of the angels that doubted him when he tried to lift their spirits. This angel was angry and, if anything, he was the one that would lead them. This was Micah.

Castiel could see this, but what he couldn't see is where he would lead Heaven. Would he do better? Would he make the angels stronger?

"I've come to help." Castiel said, being honest and caring, like he always would.

"Haven't you helped enough?" the angel asked and the others now seemed to snap out of their terrified trance and look up at the angry angel like he was the voice they had lost. "You placed false hope into us –" he said, his anger being more visible.

"False hope?" Castiel asked, as if he couldn't comprehend this concept.

"Speaking of trying or we will fail." The angel said. "I wouldn't have led us against Hell at the birth of this monster. I would have done so if and when Hell led an attack on us." He added and most of the angels seemed in agreement.

Castiel was still stunned, but tried to remain focused. Perhaps Gabriel was wrong; a good defense is the best offense. Or was that what he meant?

"Why didn't you?" Castiel asked and everything fell silent.

"Because some still believe in you, Castiel. But I can assure you that that is over." The angel said and all looked towards Castiel with cold sharpness in their eyes. They no longer trusted him. This was the last straw and he was now the black sheep of the angels if he wasn't before all of his existence.

He glanced at all the wounds and part of him couldn't blame them for losing faith in him. Look what happened to them.

"The ones to lead the strike were killed, Castiel; including Hannah." The angel said and Castiel looked up at him, his face drained of expression. He didn't know how to feel. There was so much occurring in him that he didn't know what to do or what to think. "They faced certain death and there was nothing they could do. They should have never listened to you. Their death is on you." He added and Castiel looked down at his hands and felt as if he could feel the heaviness of it all on his shoulders, the coldness on his hands like his body was going numb; like their death lingered on him just as the angel had said.

"From now on, you, Castiel, shall be shunned from the angels and be cast out of Heaven." The angel said and Castiel looked up at him, now feeling the weight of it all on him. He couldn't bare it. His eyes filled with tears as his eyes pleaded with the angel. He was feeling disbelief, shock, guilt and shame. "This begins now." The angel said and those that weren't injured rose and together, they cast their power on Castiel and cast him out of Heaven.

Castiel fell against something cold and hard. He felt agonizing pain, but knew it wasn't physical; it was emotional. He was rejected from his own and thrown out of his Home. Nothing hurt more than being disposed of like a worthless piece of trash. That's what he was to the angels; trash. He brought them nothing but death and misery. He didn't help them. All these years, all he ever wanted to do was help them, but now he didn't know what he did. Who was he trying to help? Was it even help? What had he done?

As he tried to push himself up, his hands gripped the wet grass and his feet slipped. He tried again and finally got his bearings, but it was then that he realized that it was raining and he was outside, in a field, in the middle of nowhere, now feeling cold. No, rain didn't make him feel cold; it was the fact that he was alone, cast out.

Yes, he still had the Winchesters and their home, but it would never replace Heaven. That's where he belonged, even if he was rebellious all these years and thrived with his human friends.

He was so confused now. What had he done wrong? What had he done right?