Author's Note: The finale . . . Needless to say, it inspired me to write this. I'm not even sure what this is actually. A one-shot? The beginning of a full-blown story? I'm not really sure. I just knew that I had to write something. Mariah Tate is an OC of mine. All you really need to know is that she is a doctor and has been a family friend of the Winchesters since John saved her life from a vengeful spirit in her mid-20's. If you're interested in more of her story, she is featured in "As Time Goes By" which you can find on my profile. So, yeah . . . anyways, please enjoy!

"Sometimes I wish for falling

Wish for the release

Wish for falling through the air

To give me some relief

Because falling's not the problem

When I'm falling I'm in peace

It's only when I hit the ground

It causes all the grief."

—Florence + the Machine, "Falling"

It was glorious.

Thousands of angels hurtling towards the hard ground, their wings alight and illuminating the pitch black sky. Metatron smiled as he heard the former angels cries, felt their grief and pain as they were forced to cope with the loss of their grace. They were mortal now and were subjected to all the torture that humans endured. With a flick of his hand, he could wipe them all out, even more easily than he had destroyed Naomi. Even now, her lifeless eyes stared up at him. The fool hadn't expected him to overpower her, but he had learned from the countless stories he had heard on Earth. He gained knowledge from his father's favorite creations.

"It's wonderful, Father," He breathed as he saw a younger blonde angel hit a tree as she skidded to a halt on the ground. "I wish you could see this."

God had taken off, left for who knows why. In his wake, he had caused heartbreak and chaos. Heaven had never been the same since he left . . . it had been controlled by crazy archangels who never understood the precious gift was humanity. Well, now they would experience it first hand. Yes, it was revenge for being forced to flee Heaven so many years ago and he would be lying if he didn't admit that the stories he would get from these now fallen angels would help sustain him for the next hundred years.

But, that wasn't really the point.

The angels—his brothers and sisters—didn't truly appreciate the gifts that God had left them. They had squandered Heaven, almost let the world be engulfed by the apocalypse and they had tried to control humans as if they were God.

"No more." The last remaining angel breathed.

There was a new sheriff in town.

And if anyone tried to restore order—if those Winchesters dared to try to undo all the hard work he had invested into this—he would kill them.

Simple as that.

He leaned back in Naomi's chair and chuckled as he glanced at her body.

"Looks like you lost, huh?" He remarked. "They've all fallen."

No more angels.

No more fighting.

Maybe . . . maybe God would return now. Maybe he would reward Metatron for his hard work with restoring order back to Heaven. If he would come back . . . if only he would come back.

"What is it that those humans sing?" He asked Naomi. "You can't always get what you want?"

But he got what he needed—revenge.

Now, he just had to sit back and enjoy it all.

"Jesus, can you believe this?"

Mariah faced the window and glanced up at the sky. The news was calling it a surprising meteor storm, but the good doctor knew better. Meteor storms didn't suddenly show up—they were figured out in advance usually—and they sure didn't happen all over the world simultaneously. No . . . this was something else though for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what.

"Get away from the window, Hannah." Her young apprentice—a grad student from Harvard who also wanted to one day own her own clinic instead of work in a giant hospital—sighed and stepped back, letting the curtain fall. They were alone in the clinic and Mariah had thought that maybe they could do some paperwork tonight, but something was up.

"Dr. Tate, what do you think—?"

A crash with an impact that sent shockwaves through the small clinic cut her off. The machines flickered and the lights dimmed before returning to full strength. In a few seconds, Mariah had grabbed her bag and was running out the door, Hannah on her heels. On the ground, a young woman shook as blood poured from her head.

"F-father, w-why?" Her eyes were glazing over and within a few seconds, she was dead.

"People are falling from the sky!" Hannah exclaimed and Mariah followed her gaze. She could see hundreds of men and women hurtling towards the ground. What was going on here? "Dr. Tate!" Hannah's eyes met hers and the older woman pushed down the fear that was threatening to claw out of her. She had to be strong for Hannah's sake.

"Get inside!"

"But what about—?"

"There's nothing we can do for them, we have to—" A man pummeled through the roof of the clinic, causing it to cave in. Hannah gasped and Mariah instantly had a firm grip on the younger woman's arm. They had to get to somewhere safe!

But with people falling from the sky, nowhere was safe.

Still, they ran nonetheless.

Sam, Dean, I hope you two are okay.

Tied to the chair, Crowley the mighty King of Hell watched through the window as his enemies plummeted to Earth. He knew he should feel happy at this—no more angels meant that he could truly wreak some havoc—but only a small part of him rejoiced. The rest of him felt guilty and even more than that, grief. Angels were the protectors of peoples' hopes. They granted miracles and gave some people a reason to keep going day after day.

And now . . . they were falling, most of them dying as they hit the ground in their mortal forms.

"I am so sorry." He whispered, a tear rolling down one of his cheeks. He had turned his back on Heaven so many centuries ago, but now he understood just how much he had messed up. He wanted to die if he couldn't be cured. He had killed so many people! There was so much blood on his hands and he would never be clean of it.

He had almost killed Jody Mills just because she was a friend of the Winchesters. That woman whose eyes had lit up when he had shown up at her table, who had slowly been falling for him and what had he done? He had stuck a hex bag in her purse and tried to kill her.

And now, Sam was dying.

That was the catch-22 with the trials. You died if you managed to succeed because God believed in that whole ultimate sacrifice thing and you died if you didn't finish the trials because cowards didn't deserve to live. Sam Winchester wasn't a coward though and neither was his brother.

Was it so wrong to want to see your sibling live? Was God really that heartless that he believed that death was the only way to complete a trial? Sam had saved his life tonight and what could Crowley do to help?

Nothing.

He wanted to be cured.

He wanted to be freed of the darkness that lurked within him.

But, Sam was dying and Crowley was tied to a chair and the angels were falling so, he settled for the one thing he could do.

"Father, forgive me for I have sinned."

"No, this can't be." Castiel murmured as he watched his brothers and sisters fall from the Heavens and land harshly onto the cold ground of Earth. Their cries of sheer agony echoed in his ears as they were harshly torn apart from their wings for no reason other than Castiel had once again ruined everything.

Naomi had been telling the truth.

Metatron had taken his grace.

And now, angels were falling and there was nothing he could do. He was mortal now and subjected to the same perils and joys that came with being one. He could nothing to help his siblings; he could not ease their suffering. He had to take down Metatron and if he died in the process, then so be it.

If Sam completes those trials, he is going to die.

"Sam," He whispered, urgency lacing his tone. He had nearly forgotten, but he had left Dean at the church. What if Dean had been too late? What if Sam was nothing more than a corpse now? Castiel had done so much harm to the youngest Winchester, between believing him to at one point be an abomination and breaking his fall, that if he died now because Castiel had been so intent on following Metatron's orders then his soul truly deserved to be damned to Hell. "Sam, Dean, please."

He had to go.

He had to get to them.

With one last look at the sky, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand.

He had to get to that church at all costs.

"Sammy?"

Muddy hazel eyes met his green ones and Dean breathed a slight sigh of relief. Sam's heart was running a mile a minute and his breathing was beyond fucked up, but he was holding on.

I've got you little brother. You're going to be just fine.

Dean just hoped it wasn't a lie.

"Cas?" Sam choked and was coughing again. The eldest Winchester tilted him to the side, hoping to allow the passage of air would be smoother this way. Still, if anything, his younger brother looked worse. He was pale and sweat shone on his forehead. He had forced him to abandon the trials to save his life, but even now, Sam was slipping away farther and farther into a realm that Dean couldn't pull him out of. Sam needed a hospital, but with the angels tumbling down as they were, Dean wasn't sure if the best course of action was to drive.

"I don't know," He replied because he honestly didn't. Castiel had gone to the back of his mind once Sam's life had been put on the line and while he was worried for his friend, he could only focus on one thing at a time. He had meant what he said to Sam—he would always put his little brother first. "We need to get you some help."

"D'n?" Sam wheezed, weakly squeezing his older brother's wrist and tears pricked at his eyes. It reminded him of a much younger Sam asking his brother to read him a bedtime story. Now, Sam was asking for strength and comfort, someone to guide him through the storm. Without any hesitation, he grabbed his brother's hand within his own, squeezing it, showing support.

"You just stay with me, you hear?" The world was crashing and burning around them, but they had each other. They had survived the apocalypse and had dealt with rogue angels and the King of Hell. They could handle this—they would find a way to handle this.

Henry Winchester had been right all along.

As long as we're alive, there's hope.

The sky might be falling and everything they knew might be burning around them, but for this one moment, they were together and alive. Tomorrow wasn't set in stone. They could still go out there and fix things. Sam would get better, they would find Cas and they would fix things.

Look after your brother.

Yeah, Dad, I always do.

He pulled Sam closer to him, counting each shallow breath that passed from his lips and waited for the storm to end.

Author's Note: I really liked the finale. Though, it's going to kill me to wait so long until new episodes. Anyways, that's the end . . . or is it? I could keep going if people are interested. I'm going to label it as complete for now, but if I come back to this I will label it as in-progress. Please review if you have a second!