A/N: WARNING: Gore, Blood, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, Mutilation
Castiel wasn't sure what had happened.
One moment he had been picking up the food Dean had sent him for and the next thing he knows he is at a warehouse, no longer in Lebanon, Kansas. Enochian cuffs tight around his wrists and ankles, his nose aches with sharp scents of sulfur and gunpowder, grease and human waste. He felt oddly sore and weak.
And it took him a moment to realize two things.
One.
He was locked.
That's where the soreness came from.
He.
Was.
Locked .
In the vessel .
If he focused hard enough he could feel the sting of the brand on his neck, could feel an uncomfortable weight on his grace that pushed his true form against the ethereal plane.
Two.
His wings are out.
Physical.
And that shouldn't be possible. He bites down the rising panic as he cranes his neck in an attempt to look behind him, but with the angle his arms are chained as, it is near impossible to look. He twitches his wings and spreads them out.
The confirmation that his wings are out of the ethereal plane makes his chest constrict and panic seize him. He couldn't tuck them back in, couldn't hide them. And this was wrong. Wrong . His wings should never leave the ethereal plane. It shouldn't- this shouldn't-this is wrong.
He bristles and tugs at the chains. He wasn't quite sure of what had happened, but he was sure of one thing.
He had to get out of here. Now .
The Enochian sigils on the walls don't sit well with him nor does the fact that he is locked and with his wings out which he tries to ignore for the time being, right now panicking wouldn't help at all. He couldn't panic, no matter what, panic wouldn't help at all. He should focus. Focus. Focus .
The sound of doors opening makes him look up.
A woman walks in, she looks human, but she doesn't feel human, or like any other creature he knew.
He tenses at that.
An unknown being with Enochian spells was never a good mix.
"You're awake." She voices as a form of greeting. There's an odd glee in her gaze.
"What do you want?"
"That's a good question. You'll see soon enough." She said, pulling a strange blade out from under her sleeve, he tenses at that, even more so as she circles him until she is standing right behind him. He tucks his wings closer to him. Anxious.
Would she kill him? No. She wouldn't have bothered kidnapping him if that was the case, then what-
"Did you know? Angel's wings can make humans immortal and be used for outstanding spells?"
That single statement along with the feeling of the sharp blade dragging across the bone of his wings make the world stop. She couldn't mean what he thought she meant... right? That wasn't- no.
"No!" He tugs at the chains with newfound strength and tries to avoid the inevitable.
But it's no use for the blade is brought down without mercy.
The impact of the blade lodging itself into the bone tears a scream right out of Castiel. His true voice leaking out and making the windows explode into a million pieces.
But the witch doesn't react.
The blade is ripped out of the bone before being brought back down.
Castiel screams and a tree is set on fire somewhere, lightning striking down as the clouds swirl in rage above the skies, wind bursting the doors open. He cries and screams. Desperately trying to break free.
He can feel the tendrils being burnt off. Cut. Snapping. It hurts it hurts it hurts. It felt like he would go insane. Wings flapping as light and blood sprayed everywhere, he felt nauseous and light and faint AND SOMEONE MAKE IT STOP!
He is drooling. Or is it blood? He isn't sure. His head hurts. His chest hurts. He can't focus. His grace is screaming. The universe is screaming.
Another hit hits a nerve that makes him see white.
"Stop! Stop! It hurts!" He screamed in pure, unrelenting agony, his true voice laced with enochian as he pleads, he tries to pull away from the pain. He was wailing in despair. The blade went down again and this time it got caught halfway down his left wing.
Castiel screamed.
His voice blasting his vessel's vocal cords into nothingness as blood spluttered out. He tugged on the chains fervently as thunder roared above. Fire fire fire he was fucking burning in the pits of Hell. Melting. Fire fire fire . Grace burst out of his mouth as his back twisted with a scream. The blade sawed a clump of nerves and wavelengths. Severing paths of grace and breaking the universe.
Castiel's body convulsed and he twisted so hard bone broke somewhere, bloodied tears streamed down his face. His lungs burnt. Please let him die die die die die die please someone make him fucking die.
A final blow and Castiel's screams shock the floors of Heaven and the skies of Hell. The universe screamed. The angels wailed. God screamed.
A piece of God fell on the floor.
He was mad. Insane. He couldn't focus. Focus. Focus. The universe was throbbing out of frequency. The blade touched his other wing and Castiel whimpered, no longer able to keep himself together.
The blade was brought down.
The ground shook with his screams. The skies cried with his tears. Heaven screamed with him.
And when that last vestige of God was gone, he felt the world stop around him.
He fell to the ground as he was freed.
Nothing at all to keep him up.
~
The skies were red.
Black clouds swirling above with such ferocious intent it was, without a doubt, not nature's doing. Black lightning struck down upon the streets. The wind was merciless and filled with such static it was near deafening, slicing the skin off of those who spent too long outside. Trees were set ablaze. Earthquakes shook the ground all over the world. The ocean flooding the streets like endless little tsunamis bent on drowning humanity.
And if one listened well enough, it felt as if the skies were wailing, bright lights swooshing amongst the raging hurricanes all over the world.
Castiel couldn't be found.
Which made things even worse after Ketch confirmed it to be a supernatural phenomenon.
But no one knew what was causing it.
And then the lights at the bunker flickered before a stunning woman with golden curls and pale complexion appeared right at the war room wearing a worn out green dress that looked pulled out from the Victorian era.
She looked as unnerving as the weather outside.
A storm brewing in her iced blue eyes.
"Sam and Dean Winchester?" Her voice was like an echo that sent shivers down their spines.
"Who's asking?" Dean demanded, reaching beneath the table for the gun underneath it.
"My name's Ariel, I have been sent to fetch you." Her words got both brothers frowning, confusion seizing their guts.
"Fetch us..?"
"Father believes you should be with him now." She states, holding her hands out, as if asking for them to take them.
"And who the hell is your father?" Dean was not going to trust some random woman who appeared out of nowhere and was obviously not human.
"I believe he likes to go by Chuck now. But we have no time to waste, we must leave now."
"You are an angel?"
"Why the hell would Chuck send you and not come here himself?"
The angel scowled, disappearing before reappearing behind them and grabbing them.
"I told you we are wasting time."
Sam and Dean had no chance to fight before their stomach gave a violent flip, in a blink, the brothers were standing infront of a Victorian looking mansion.
"You are being unreasonable!"
The Winchesters knew that voice.
Amara.
"Unreasonable?! I can stand a lot of things, but I won't stand for this! Not this!" The booming voice of Chuck was unexpected, thunder crackling above as lightning struck down a nearby tree, making the brothers flinch.
Chuck sounded positively furious. And it made their hairs stand on end and shivers run down their spine.
"You can't annihilate an entire species based on the acts of one single person!"
Say what now?
Ariel opened the door, revealing Amara and Chuck standing at the top of the stairs, the air inside the house was thick with power, asphyxiating enough to make Sam and Dean almost bolt off.
But the angel grabbed them and pulled them inside with her, door slamming shut behind them.
Their arrival making both gods turn to look at them.
Yeah, Chuck with glowing eyes was definitely gonna follow Dean's nightmares for a long time.
"Dean. Sam." Amara greeted, her expression tight, Dean wasn't sure why she gave him that sad look, but it made a very bad feeling twist inside him.
"Chuck? What's happening?" Sam asks, managing to break out of the uncomfortable weight in the air, the lights were flickering and there was a familiar ringing in the air, an angel's voice. But it didn't sound as headache inducing as he was used to, this one was… small. Off.
"It's Castiel." The name is enough to get both hunters' absolute attention, even more so because Chuck looks angry. But there's something else neither can't quite place.
"What's up with him?" Dean asks, Chuck doesn't answer, instead, he glances at the angel who brought them.
"Ariel, you may leave now. Back to Heaven, I don't want to hear any of you has left Heaven." There's a dangerous undertone in his voice that sends shivers down the brothers' spine. The angel doesn't even twitch as she nods.
"Yes, father."
And with that, she's gone.
Chuck turns back to look at them, and all of a sudden, all anger leaves him, and just like that the brothers realize what's edged on his face. Impotence.
God. Impotent.
And are those dark bags under his eyes?
"Chuck? What did you mean by Cas? Where is he? What's going on?" Sam asks, now worried and also afraid, because what the hell was happening? What did Amara mean by ending an entire species? Why was Chuck apparently forbidding the angels from leaving Heaven?
"Follow me." The man sighs, Sam and Dean climb up the stairs, Amara's hand squeezing Dean's shoulder doesn't help at all. It just makes that feeling in their gut strengthen.
The brothers follow Chuck, letting him lead them to a room at the end of the hall, as he opens the door, Sam and Dean's heart drops and their blood runs cold.
Castiel is there, laying on his stomach on a bed, his skin is extremely pale, almost glowing. He's missing his shirt, his bareback is covered in bandages and sitting on the bed across from him is Gabriel, his hand resting on his shoulder and eyes closed.
The archangel's expression is tense. Nowhere is the mischief or amusement that never seems to leave him.
And Castiel is still. Much too still.
Sam reacts first as he all but runs to Cas' side, but he doesn't dare to touch him.
"What happened?" Dean asks, voice thick.
"Someone cut his wings off." Chuck's voice is like ice as he speaks. Thunder rumbling outside. That statement makes their blood freeze. What? "I cannot heal him. I can't give him new ones. Wings are like a soul, it cannot be remade or fixed once damaged."
"What are you saying?" Dean questions, not liking where this was going. This had to be some sort of joke. This couldn't be happening. Surely Chuck-
"I'm saying I can't save him. I am God and I can't save him. I made him, and I can't save him." Chuck states, and while Dean wants to shout at him and call bullshit, he can't.
Because he can now see what's that in Chuck's face. It's the same expression his father had had in that hospital when he was told Dean wouldn't make it. An expression Dean didn't notice at the time until it was too late.
Impotence. Anger. Pain. A heart wrenching agony upon knowing that you could do many things but the one thing you would give anything to be able to do.
His hands are shaking, Dean notices. He can't scream at Chuck when it's clear the man is already beating himself enough as it's.
Instead, he turns his gaze towards the bed where Castiel is.
And Gabriel.
"What's he doing?"
"Gabriel was gifted the skill to help boost an angel's grace. He can do so without risking overwhelming him as I would. But Castiel's grace is far too damaged, there's little to be done without risking killing him."
"But he will live, right?"
"... An angel's wings are the closest thing to a soul they have, it's a very crucial part of them. Some have survived their loss, but as I said, his grace is far too damaged, he is… he's gone through more than even I can heal… even less now… I can't do anything for him."
Dean feels his eyes burn, his chest. He wants to scream and call bullshit. He wants to punch Chuck for not trying. But he also knows he can't, there's that overwhelming realization that God can't save Castiel.
Cas is going to die, that hits like a rocket that leaves him without air, it makes something cold down on his skin and hairs stand on end. Cas is going to die. And that's why Chuck wanted them here. Cas is going to die. And this time there would be no resurrection.
This time, it would be permanent.
He approaches the bed at last, Sam is kneeling next to the bed, he's holding Cas' hand, his skin is covered in thin, almost too faint, blue lines with a flickering glow that seems to dimmer and dimmer with each second. Castiel's eyes are barely open, pain written all over his face. His breathing sounds heavy, like the sole feat of it was becoming harder and harder.
And this seriously can't be happening. This had to be some sort of nightmare.
He kneels next to the bed too, he doesn't want to sit on the bed and risk jostling him, the bandages on his back are soaking red.
His wings had been cut off. Some fucking messed up bastard had cut off Cas' wings. And when Dean found them- he was gonna fucking kill them.
"Hey man." He greets, voice thick with emotion as he reaches out to rest his hand on top of Cas' and Sam's, something he would have made fun of or a comment about, but right now couldn't care less about. Cas is dying. He's dying and there's nothing he can do to save him.
And he hasn't felt this impotent and useless since Sam first died. But this time no amount of deals would help. If God himself couldn't fix this, there was nothing a demon could do. No one at all.
He shouldn't have asked Cas to go out. He shouldn't have let him go alone. He shouldn't have- fuck. Cas' shifts a bit, he seems like he wants to say something, yet fails completely.
"It's alright. You don't have to apologize, there's nothing to apologize for. And… and we will look after Claire, you don't… you don't have to worry about her, I promise." Sam says, voice shaky as tears prickle at the corner of his eyes.
If he knows Cas well enough, he knows there's an apology there somewhere, Cas was always apologizing even when he was the one hurt. Which Sam knows comes from the fact where Cas always sees it as inconvenient for them when he gets hurt.
Cas who's always been on their side, always helped them. And they hadn't been there for him when he needed them most. Someone had kidnapped him and mutilated him. And they hadn't been there.
And now…
The tears finally fell, Cas was dying and there was nothing they could do to save him. Nothing at all… and it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.
But when has life ever been fair for them?
He felt Cas' hand twitch, as if wanting to clasp Sam's hand but had no strength left to do so. And it burnt something deep in his chest. Like having his heart torn open as hot tears streamed down his cheeks. Cas had become like a brother to him these past years, and now he regretted having not shown it more. Not spending enough time with him. Taking him for granted.
Now it was too late.
And he couldn't change it.
A sob caught at the back of his throat as he bowed his head. All the deals, all the magic, all the skills, all the knowledge from the bunker. And nothing at all could save Cas. He was losing yet another person he cared about and he couldn't do anything to stop it.
And he's never felt as useless as he did right now.
Dean for his side tried and failed to keep the tears in, anger and pain flaring inside, ripping a hole through his chest and making it all burn as he clenched his jaw. Cas was dying. He was losing yet another person and he couldn't do shit to stop it.
What was the point of having all kinds of powerful beings on speed dial if at the end none could save those he cared about the most? Cas was like a brother to him, and while he's aware he told him as such, now he realizes that he never quite showed it.
He never gave him a serious actual apology for kicking him out, he never apologized for throwing him into the streets instead of sending him with Jody or even Garth. He left him to fend for himself when he had absolutely no idea how to be human. He turned his back to him so many times, and he never apologized. And now he will never get to do so. He will never get to make up for what he did to him or all the things he said.
He had called him family. But Dean would have never done to Sam what he did or said to Cas.
It's too late now, and it makes something break inside him. It's too late to apologize, not enough time. Not enough time at all.
And as the ringing in the air cuts off, Dean feels his heart stop. The faint lines completely disappear off Cas' skin, his breathing giving one last shudder before it disappears completely altogether.
Gabriel finally opens his eyes, the look of complete devastation on his face reminds Dean of the very real fact that Gabriel and Cas are brothers.
And that Cas has died.
This time, with no resurrections.
And just like that, Dean falls apart.