Castiel finds himself in the ruins of a house he recognizes as having once belonged to the prophet Chuck Shurley. Or it might be more accurate to call it the crater where the house once stood than the ruins. It's been razed to its very foundation, and so have a number of the houses that once surrounded it. Even now he can feel lingering traces of Raphael's holy wrath, remnants of the force that struck him down crackling off his feathers.

He's confused. Waking up in Norfinbury - another plane, perhaps another universe - had made sense, to an extent. Waking up here? It shouldn't be possible. Execution by an Archangel is by definition one of the most permanent things there is. And yet, when he looks down he sees a body he knows was reduced to its component particles here, standing in this very spot.

Birdsong distracts him from his contemplation, and he considers his surroundings. They're green, lush and verdant. Wildflowers grow all around him, having taken root in the blessed ashes of the prophet's home and grown strong and vibrant because of it. Vines creep up the collapsing ruins of the surrounding homes, and tall grasses spring up through cracks in the pavement. A family of deer graze nearby, paying him no mind. They have nothing to fear from an angel.

For the first time in months (feels like years), he opens his mind to the voices of his brothers and sisters and hears... nothing. He's not cut off from them entirely like he was in Norfinbury - it's more that no one is answering, even when he calls out to them, over and over and over again. For the first time in months (feels like decades), he opens his wings and takes to the sky, searching for anyone, anything.

The world is... beautiful. Roads and parking lots have turned into shallow rivers and wetlands. Skyscrapers have become massive trellises for plants to spiral up, up, up, seeking sunlight while the city streets are canyons filled with animals, herds of cattle and antelopes and buffalo weaving between long-abandoned and broken-down cars, bears and mountain lions sleeping peacefully in empty subway cars and stores. Humanity is absent in all but what they've left behind, and all manner of life has rushed in to fill the void.

It reminds him of something. It reminds him of Eden, before Adam and Eve.

He realizes just how intentional that was as he comes upon a towering, resplendent figure, kneeling in the center of one of these cities as if in a deep state of meditation. He bears the faces of four beasts - a goat, a viper, a wolf, and a chough - and the pillar of divine fire that fills his form burns brighter than the sun, and three pairs of wings fold neatly over his back. An Archangel. One he hasn't seen in thousands upon thousands of years. Some of Lucifer's many eyes turn to look at him as he lands on the grass of what was once a carefully manicured city park.

There you are, Castiel, he says, and his true voice shakes the earth, causing Castiel to stumble and very nearly fall to his knees. I thought it might have been you. You've always had a knack for popping up when you're least expected. Lucifer settles into a more comfortable position, nearly casual, and makes a beckoning gesture. There's no reason to wear that monkey suit anymore. Show me your face, little brother.

Castiel just glares up at him defiantly. "What have you done, Lucifer?"

The Archangel laughs, and it's a haunting and magnificent noise, like bells, like music, like the sound of the cosmos. Exactly what I always intended. I restored our Father's last masterpiece. The Earth is as it should be. Whole again, and free from any pests that would carve away chunks of it for themselves. It takes some time for the words to sink in, even though he's been seeing the evidence for it the whole time. The abandoned cities. The silence from Heaven. The sheer amount of time that must have passed between now and when he was last on Earth.

"No," he says. "No, this isn't - this wasn't our Father's plan. You can't have done this."

Lucifer's expressions change, to angry, mournful, triumphant, and distant, respectively, and when he speaks his voices are equally discordant. His plans don't matter, Castiel. He's not here to force them on the world anymore.

"What do you mean?"

I mean He's dead. I killed Him. Lucifer straightens up again, solemn in posture and tone. It was that or let Him ruin everything He'd worked for since the beginning of time. I couldn't allow that. He sighs, a great gust of ice-cold wind emanating from his form. I'm not proud, but I did what I had to in order to save all of this.

This time Castiel does fall to his knees. His mind is a blank, unable to process what he's just been told. It's a lie. It must be. "The Winchesters. Heaven. One of them - they had to have done something."

Oh, they tried, little brother. I promise you they did. With a surprisingly gentle touch, the Archangel reaches down and plucks him from the ground, setting him down in the palm of one massive hand in order to bring him up to be level with his primary eyes. But you didn't think two little apes could stop me alone? Or that Michael could fight me without his Sword? I have you to thank for that, Castiel. Without you turning Dean away from Heaven's service, I don't know if I could have done all of this. He makes a sweeping gesture with one of his other hands, grandiose, indicating the overgrown city around them. Pristine. Lush. Empty.

You helped me save the world, Castiel, whether you meant to or not. I owe you.