It's of epic proportions.

The brilliant glow cuts through the night—the blinding white nucleus surrounded by a coma of searing blue, the haze of a hydrogen envelope, and the streaking gold ion tail; that's no comet.

Castiel knows the moment it happens.

Standing outside a motel with Dean, he looks to the starry sky, chest tight and head hot with intense and nameless emotions.

Castiel knows.

Hurtling down, tearing through the atmosphere, ripping through the clouds and across the horizon—that's no comet.

That's an angel.

Just as sudden as it appears, the blinding light disappears in haze, leaving nothing behind but an imprint on the back of his eyelids and in his memory.

Dean says something, but Castiel doesn't pay attention—can't pay attention.

An angel has fallen.

It isn't a hallucination. This isn't God, a trick, or Heaven's wrath…

A boom shatters the silence; a palpable wave of energy rippling through the air sending off car alarms, knocking out lights, and cracking glass. It's like the ground heaves beneath their feet, reacting violently to the impact of a being so… powerful.

Castiel staggers and Dean swears loudly, head whipping around to try and locate the epicenter of such a force.

The distant echo of dogs barking is what is left in the wake. Like a hollow ring of a cymbal after a crash.

There's nothing but corn fields for miles around the motel—this little slice of civilization—and an angel has fallen.

Castiel doesn't know where, but they're close.

In the fields.

Somewhere.

Without so much as a word, Castiel takes off, leaving Dean sputtering in his wake. The man follows, though.

The remnants of the fallen angel's Grace is strong even still, so much so that it is very nearly impossible for Castiel to track it due to its sheer potency.

But, he prevails.