A/N: Hello! This was inspired by the Season Nine trailed and whatever snippets I was able to gleam from it. Like my previous work, this is set after the Season 8 finale and is canon compliant. Unlike that previous work, I will focus just on Cas and Dean and they interactions with each other. This is a Destiel story, eventually, and there will be angst and hurt/comfort. This will be updated every couple of days or so.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of their characters from CW. I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story. Any and all real persons and situations are purely coincidental.

The first thing he noticed was how limited his perception was. He had to actually open his eyes to see, and when he did, he saw that he was under some trees. There were uncomfortable spots that felt were being pressed into his back. It dawned on him he was laying down, and for a split second he thought he was in the chair Metatron strapped him into. Then he remembered, he remembered his grace being taken from him and being sent back down to Earth.

The angels, Metatron was going to expel all the angels. Scrambling up he had no idea where to go, so he blindly and quickly went forward. He needed to see the sky, he needed to see what has happening. There was no need to go far, he reached the shore of the lake soon enough. What he saw devastated him...his brothers and sisters were falling. They were being forced out of their home and in flames, falling to Earth.

Immense guilt washed over him like it has never before. On top of that guilt was also sadness and anger. Anger that he was tricked by Metatron. Guilt because if it wasn't for him, this wouldn't have happened. Sadness because yet again, he had failed to heed the warnings, failing to listen to Dean. He looked around, this was not the same lake the brothers were at. In fact, he had no idea where he was. Trying to look past his falling brethren, he could see some constellations. He was in the northern hemisphere at least, but there was no way to pinpoint an exact location.

What should he do? He was a graceless angel lost in the wilderness with no means of communication or transport. It was highly likely that once they landed, the angels would come after him. They may be expelled from Heaven, but there was a possibility they may have retained their powers. He on the other hand was human, completely human. Even the weight of his wings was gone. This was dissimilar from his previous near human state. In that time, he still had a miniscule amount of grace, even if it was tied up in keeping his wings out of the earthly plane.

Looking back up, his siblings were falling less and less. For the first time, he felt alone, cut off from all support. He had no idea what to do, or how to even fix this. The only thing he could do right now was run.

Walking all night, it was early morning when he finally encountered a road. It looked like a small service road that was hardly used by the looks of it. Picking to go left for no reason, he continued his walk. He figured he had walked for several hours non-stop and he was beginning to tire. It was different from when he was an angel. His grace could become weak, where he could no longer access his powers and he may lose control of his vessel. It would appear like he was asleep, but in truth, his grace was just reconnecting with his vessel. Now though, his body felt tired, there was no filter of his grace to shield him.

He heard something behind him and he turned around quickly to see a fast approaching truck coming right toward him. Instinct kicked in and he jumped out of the way. The impact of landing was uncomfortable and there was a pain on his hand that took the brunt of the fall. Looking over to see that the truck had stopped, he then looked at his hand.

"It hurts." he said more surprised than concerned. Yes, he had felt pain before, but as before, it was filtered through his grace. Now there was nothing to stop the feeling of throbbing pain. Looking at it, he knew it would not heal quickly. As far as injuries go, this was small, but the impact of it hammered in the fact that he was human once and for all.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry! Are you ok?!" asked a small woman in a skirt running towards him from the truck.

Looking at her than his hand, "it is only a minor injury, otherwise I am unhurt." Pushing himself up, he took a closer look at her. She was a young woman with long black hair and skirt. Her face appeared to hold genuine concern and apology.

She took his hand without asking and looked it over. "Whew…it's not bad. I'm sorry, I didn't even see you at all. What brings you out here?"

"I…got lost." he replied, then added, "my…uh, car isn't working and I do not possess a cell phone any longer."

She gave him a concerned frown, "let me give you lift into town, it's the least I can do for almost running you over. And I have a first aid kit in the car."

Thinking it over, he nodded. "Yes, that would be much appreciated. May I ask where we are?"

"You're that lost?" she asked with a small smile.

"I…am not familiar with this area."

"Not a problem, let's get you patched up." She tugged him along to the cab where she cleaned the wound and made sure nothing was in it before wrapping it in gauze. Then she moved over to the driver's seat and once he closed the door, began driving. Before getting in he spied the license plate, which was registered to Colorado.

"What's your name?" she asked politely after they had driven a bit.

"Cas." he looked out the window, "which town are we going to?"

"Oh, it doesn't really have a name, it's not far from Blue Lake. My name is Esther."

After a half hour, they came across a small town, which was just a gas station, a store and a few houses clumped around the two lane road. She got out and so did he, not wanting to impose, he slipped out as well. His feet though felt sore still, so he sat on the curb next to the gas pump.

"You don't have a car do you?" Esther asked when she came back from inside the station. She seated herself next to him.

He looked down, "no."

"So where are you headed?" she asked.

Where was he headed? He had no place to go. He could try to call Dean, but would Dean even want to talk to him. He would probably blame him, and rightly so, for all the angels falling. Even if Dean wanted him back, he would only place him in danger. No, it was better to be as far from him as possible. So he simply replied, "I don't know."

She gripped his shoulder, "tell you what, I was heading over to Glenwood Springs today, so if you want to come with, you can."

He looked up, "I don't have any money to repay you."

"I nearly ran you over, so don't worry about it." She got up, "now c'mon, let's get going." He climbed back into the cab as she did and off they went. They were heading southwest as best he could guess by the position of the sun. It appeared that he had landed in a mostly rural area. Once in a more urban setting, he'll try to figure out what he can. Cities were easier to disappear in, and that was the ideal choice. Then he noticed that they were getting onto a small dirt road off the main one.

He looked over at her about to ask her why, but she cut him off. "Don't worry Castiel, it's a shortcut."

"I never told you my full name." he said slowly, suddenly on guard and simultaneously, afraid.

She looked over and he saw a flash of blue light in her eyes. Immediately, he grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it over, changing course to some concrete blocks on the side of the road. It was only a second before they hit it nearly going fifty miles per hour.

He woke up with more aches on his chest and shoulder. Moving his check, he felt the dried blood flake off a little. Opening his eyes and looking up, he saw that there was a huge hole in the windshield and blood everywhere. Unlocking the seatbelt that prevented him the same fate, he went to see who this person really was. He was a bit unsteady on his feet, but he walked over to where she had landed. Her legs were plainly broken and she was cut up immensely. Still, she was alert and mobile like no human could be after such injuries. The only possible explanation was that she was an angel.

She sneered at him when he approached. Seeing an angel blade on the ground, he picked it up. "Don' you think you've done enough Castiel?" she said with venom.

He looked down at his sister. Obviously, the fallen angels had kept a part of their grace, still, her injuries looked painful and a small wave a nausea rose up in him. Still, she was family and her expulsion was because of him. "I want to help you."

"Help angels? After what you did?" she spat back. "Look what your 'help' did Castiel! You cast us out of Heaven! You killed thousands of us, stopped the divine plan, imprisoned Michael and killed Raphael! We don't need your help."

The guilt of what he did once again fell over him. "Yes…I know," he replied resigned. "But I did it because I thought it was for the best, for the greater…"

She spit out some blood. "For who? For the humans? They aren't worth it Castiel. When I saw you, I tried to run you down. You're better off to everyone if you were dead."

That hurt, an ache in his chest began and he knew who might be right. He's done so much more damage than good. Every attempt he had made either ended in him dead or unleashing something evil. It was only because of the Winchesters there was a world, not him. All he had done was, as Dean would say, mess it up. He dropped the blade.

"You are probably right, I do deserve death." He looked at her right in the eye. "But not today." Seeing that in time, she would heal, he walked away.

It was late evening when he made it to Glenwood Springs. He had kept to the side roads or wooded areas as best he could once he approached the town. Seeing a bloody person walking around usually raised suspicion, something he couldn't risk. Seeing a Laundromat open, he walked in. It was empty, but there was a camera on the wall, he figured someone was watching remotely. Heading into the restroom, he cleaned himself best he could. However, his cloths were still bloody.

Digging into his pockets, he was able to fish out a couple of dollars that Dean had given him a long time ago. Stepping out of the restroom, he changed the bills to quarters and looked at the machine. After a few minutes of trying to determine how to use it, he stripped his clothes and placed it all in the wash. As he closed the lid and pushed the button, he spied the candy machine. His stomach growled at the sight of food. Looking down again, he saw that he only had enough change to dry his clothes.

He sighed and sat down. His feet and legs were incredibly sore. Now his stomach was making itself loudly heard by growling its emptiness. More importantly…he was tired. Realizing that he will need to sleep soon, he looked outside. It was early summer, but this high up in the mountains, it would be chilly at night. His overcoat was barely able to keep in his body heat from the previous night. Sitting quietly in his boxers, keeping the hunger down and the sleep away, he thought about what to do. This town was too small to hide in. Denver was the closest largest city, but that was well over a hundred miles away. He would need to either walk or hitch a ride. Neither prospect seemed appealing.

Then the buzzer sounded and walked over to the washer. Taking out his cloths, there was pink tint to his shirt, and most of the blood was still visible. It also seemed that the clothes had shrunk, and he threw it down in anger. Now he quite literally had nothing. Hopelessness began to rise in him and for a moment, all he wanted to do was cry. Pulling himself together, he looked around. There had to be something here that he could use.

In the back, there was a box that was had clothes in it. Must been clothes left behind by various patrons beforehand. Rummaging through it, he was able to piece together an outfit. Granted, two of the shirts had holes and cargo pants thin, but it would serve. Walking back to his clothes, he salvaged the socks, and threw the suit into the trash.

The coat though, he looked at it hard. He had worn this coat for almost five years. In a sense, it has become a part of his identity as this vessel, now body, has. More importantly, Dean had kept it safe while he lived as Emmanuel. It confused him a bit why Dean had held onto it. Now he realized it was because it represented hope to Dean of his return. No, this coat didn't belong in the trash. Though still wet and specks of blood were on it, he put in the box he found the clothes in. It was too dangerous to keep, but too precious to through away. Perhaps one day, another person might find a use for it.

Stepping into the cold night air, he took a deep breath. He was so tired. With the left over change from not drying his clothes, he did buy a candy bar. However, he only nibbled at it and his stomach demanded more. Sighing, he tucked he rest away and looked around. Soon he wouldn't be able to stay awake, he needed sleep. He walked a couple of blocks before he found a secluded spot that looked safe enough to take a nap. Nestling in the backdoor of an abandoned minimart, he crossed his arms and closed his eyes.