Castiel has found the apalling truth that he is possibly the only angel left with noble intent. His brothers and sisters have clashed with eachother and the very thing they are meant to protect; humanity.

Because God left. Abandoned his armies and children leaving them stranded and aggrieved.

Now that Castiel is a rebelling angel,

He is bound to make some enemies.

Now he kneels, having been forced to the ground, before an angel who used to respect him. Uriel.

Castiel sways uneasily, Uriel’s hand fisted in the lapels of his trenchcoat fist raised to strike again. “You can’t win, Uriel.” Castiel grunts, blood trickling from his nose, the rubescent fluid staining his top lip, ”I still serve God.”

“You haven’t even met the man.” Uriel chides, looking down at Castiel, seeing him as a disgrace to his brethren.

“There is no will.” Punch, “No wrath.” Punch, “No God.” Punch.

As he raises his hand for a final pummel of his fist, on the fast track to slicing the angel’s jugular, you move into action.

Seizing your angel blade you dart forward, holding your breath. You pierce his throat. Uriel’s eyes go blindingly electric blue and his corpse hits the ground with a charged calamity, his ashy remnants of wings stained the ground in a poetic expanse of retribution.