Cas felt his phone buzz in his pocket, but he ignored it.
"No, Hannah!" he said sharply. "I can't ask you to do it again – once was enough and –"
"Asking? I know you're not 'asking', Castiel, that's why I'm offering. It worked so well last time –"
"No!"
Cas stared, holding Hannah's defiant gaze as he tried to control his anger.
"If you won't take more of my Grace, then you must leave Heaven," she said at last, her voice calmer but no less final.
"You know I can't do that –"
"No, you can, Castiel, you just won't. You seem determined to die here."
"I was born here, why is that so wrong?"
Hannah's gaze turned withering. "Because we both know this isn't your home. Your heart lies on Earth, with the Winchesters and other humans. If you insist on dying – unnecessarily – then do it on Earth." She hesitated. "So at least I won't have to watch."
Cas looked down, frowning at his unpolished shoes. "Hannah," he said, his voice low. "When I asked you to grant me some of your Grace, I did not intend it to be an on-going thing. I can't take any more of your life for –"
"Castiel, my Grace replenishes itself by the minute! You know that – giving you some of my Grace was no different than healing a flesh wound."
Cas stopped short. He had been hoping she wouldn't bring that up. He tried to think up another argument, but he found himself quailing under the force of Hannah's scowl.
"Castiel. Please. Take more of my Grace. You've almost run out – again. Your breathing is even worse than it was a month ago, just let me help yo –"
BOOM!
A resounding blast shook the ground under their feet. Both Cas and Hannah crouched, arms splayed, trying to keep their balance as the ground heaved beneath them. It seemed all of Heaven was shaking.
"What was that!" Hannah exclaimed, reaching automatically for Cas as he stumbled.
"I don't know!"
Together they reached the wide wooden doors of the office and threw them open. What they saw seemed impossible. Unthinkable. They looked at each other, eyes wide. Castiel's horror was reflected in Hannah's deep blue eyes.
Rubble rained down from the ceiling of the adjoining room. The black scorch marks of broken wings painted the walls, interspersed by splatters of deep red.
Through the double doors at the end of the room, Cas could see the shifting blurs of angels fighting, angelblades flashing silver and ribbons of bright crimson arcing through the air. Heaven shook again, and one of the combatants faltered, losing his balance. His opponent struck him in the chest with her blade and the brilliant light of the dying angel illuminated the rooms.
Cas swallowed hard. It seemed the danger that had been brewing for months was finally boiling over. Three angels had noticed their presence and were making for them, weapons drawn and bloodstained. With one determined glance to Hannah, Cas drew his angelblade from his coat and as one, he and Hannah stepped forward to face the oncoming slaughter.
Metatron was making his move.