Castiel grew uneasy as the evening drew to a close and night began to settle. His former home was quiet except for the sounds of the dinner that he was sharing with his brother. He threw a few worried glances towards his older brother who seemed to not of noticed, or pretending not to.

A few hours earlier Castiel had arrived at Michael's kingdom in an attempt to stop the war that his brother was planning. His own people had grown impatient without news of whether they were going to war or not, forcing him to try and bring some peaceful outcome to this madness. He knew by no means was he his brother's favorite, but he had hoped that perhaps the fact they were blood would halt Michael's plans.

He half expected Michael to have him killed on the spot but when the other greeted him without any hint of emotion he couldn't help but wonder what his brother had in store for him. There was nothing more frightening than knowing that his brother most likely wanted him dead yet the man was acting as if it hadn't been a good few years since they saw each other. When Michael invited him for dinner Castiel expected the meal to be poisoned but there he was an hour later with nothing wrong with his food other than it's staleness.

Castiel finally noticed how thin the guards were and he frowned wondering if there was a shortage of food in his brother's kingdom. It would make sense why the food tasted like it was days old. He respectfully ate it but he could only feel pity for the people of his brother's kingdom.

Eventually Castiel couldn't handle it anymore and had excused himself minutes earlier as he couldn't take the fake civility between them and he stepped out of the room to gain his composure. After a few moments he wandered over to the windows, looking out to the grounds of his former home. His eyes fell upon the empty shell of what used to be his greenhouse. It was burned and dismantled and he felt a little tug at his heart as he remembered the many afternoons he would spend in it growing up.

He sighed as he ran his fingers along the stone walls as he wandered down the corridor. He noticed the lack of portraits, he figured Michael had removed those right away. They were after all fake memories, behind the stoic faces of the four children were fears and dreams. Behind the stone cold eyes of the father was hatred and anger towards the loss of his only love. What couldn't be found was the soft gaze of blue eyes of the mother, eyes that Castiel took.

Many drunken beatings from his father were started because of those eyes. Stolen from the women he loved, the king would say. It didn't matter that Castiel was just a boy when his mother died, it was his fault just like everything else. Eventually Castiel started to hate those eyes, hated seeing their perfect blue in his reflection. But then he would have to remind himself that they were all he had left of his mother, other than the small sapphire covered locket that was a gift from his mother when he was born. He had lost that stupid thing when he was a teen though, he had cried for days over it.

Castiel stopped and rested against the wall, tears welling up in his eyes. He hadn't thought about his mother and that locket in a long time. He was thankful that she was gone from this world, if only so she didn't have to see her boys torn apart and what their cruelty was bringing the world. He pushed away from the wall and looked up at the sky through the large glass window. The moon was out, but clouds were closing in. There was another storm brewing.

Was the storms a sign from the gods that the humans were destroying all they had planned? Castiel hadn't been one to much believe in the old gods, but tonight seeing the clouds race in to cover the moon's light he couldn't help but think they were angry. And as if a sign from the immortal and righteous beings themselves, raindrops tapped against the window. One tap, then two at a time. Within seconds it sounded as if the gods were pounding their fingers against the glass and Castiel took a step back in fright, his heart racing.

He was greeted with an arm around his neck, not pressing down but holding him still all the same. Castiel's eyes widened and he reached up to grab at the arm, but he was too slow as he felt the edge of a blade run across the exposed flesh of his throat. Time seemed to slow down as he stumbled forward, not sure what had happened. His neck stung, and he wondered if the blade had just grazed him.

When his hand met the now bleeding slit across his throat he realized this was not the case. His hands shook as he tried to stop the bleeding, but his fingers grew slick and he couldn't help the gurgled sound that came from him as he fell to his knees as pain erupted from the wound. Castiel could hear his attacker moving around the side of him, his boots clicking on the stone floors almost too loudly.

Castiel turned his gaze to see Michael standing above him, a satisfied look on his face and a bloody dagger in the other. Michael pushed Castiel over onto the ground with his foot. His crown slipped from his head and fell to the ground with a clatter as Michael clambered onto Castiel, dagger raised high. Castiel had barely managed to hold the wound closed on his throat with both hands and had no way to defend himself from another attack. He prayed to whatever gods that were outside the castle walls for help. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see someone come into view but he wondered if it wasn't just another guard coming to help Michael.

"Let's cut out those pretty eyes now why don't we?" Michael cackled bringing the knife down.

Castiel could barely make out what happened next, more pain and screaming but he wasn't sure if the screaming was his own. He did realize that Michael was no longer on him, and Castiel wasn't sure if Michael was biding his time or cleaning the knife off but he didn't waste time. He tore at his coat and managed to pull off a piece and wrap it around his throat. More blood had joined onto his clothing but it wasn't from his throat.

His face was on fire and he could feel the individual gashes formed by Michael's blade. Castiel didn't have time to think about that though, he couldn't stand so he turned and started pulling himself away from the blood soaked spot where his body had been. He groaned and spat out blood as he crawled, escape the only thing he could focus on. He didn't know if he would make it to help or not. He didn't know if Michael would come back to finish him off or was busy with whatever poor soul that had screamed.

Castiel knew one thing though, the reason why no gods responded to him. It wasn't that they didn't care or that this was part of their master plan...it was simply because they weren't there. There was no gods, no demons...just mortal men with evil brewing in their hearts and hatred for their brethren.