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Castiel decided he did not like waking up. Finding that time had passed, that he'd been moved with no memory of it happening was disconcerting. Opening his eyes, he looked around the oddly decorated room he now found himself in. The last he remembered he'd been lying on the pavement, his back against a car, blood filling the lungs and mouth of his vessel. Sam and Dean had been there.
Anna had returned, seeking to kill Sam to stop Lucifer. Her plan could work, but he wasn't willing to sacrifice his friend. He'd warned her, but he'd known she wouldn't give up that easily. The only option was to kill her first. He'd tracked her to the past, the Winchesters insisting that he bring them along. He should have said no. It had almost torn him apart, both his vessel and true form. He was surprised he was still alive.
Pushing himself up from the bed he'd been deposited on, he tried to assess the situation. He was alone, but there was a note on the bedside table, written in what he recognised as Dean's hand, letting him know the Winchesters had gone to find their parents. There was still significant damage to his true form and vessel, but he couldn't afford to wait for it to heal. Several days had passed since they'd arrived in 1978 and the Winchesters hadn't returned.
With the Enochian warding carved into their ribs he had no way of knowing where they were or what had become of them. No way of knowing if they were even still alive. Had they found another way to their own time? Had Anna succeeded in her mission? Except... he could sense Dean. He shouldn't be able to. Something was off.
With a flap of his wings he landed near where he could sense the hunter, having to steady himself against a nearby wall. Looking up, he spotted John and Mary Winchester, alive and unharmed. The couple were smiling, oblivious to the sorrow which awaited them. He could feel Dean too, familiar and yet so different. Not his Dean, not yet. This soul was new, pure, untouched by pain and grief. He wished he could spare his friend the suffering which was to come, but that wasn't possible.
There were no signs of his Dean and Sam, but there was something else. A touch of heavenly power radiating from the couple. He reached out with his senses, seeking any other traces of that power. With another flap of his wings he found himself in what appeared to be an abandoned building. His eyes were immediately drawn to the puddle of blood on the floor. Too much for a human to survive. Yet there was no body.
There were ashes on the floor, the scorched imprint of wings. Anna. Remnants of her grace still lingered. Castiel bowed his head, whispering an Enochian prayer of mourning, one spoken for fallen siblings on the battlefields of Heaven. They had been close once. He wished things had ended differently. Traces of another grace lingered amongst her remains, left from the one who smote her. One far more powerful than either of them. Castiel recognised it immediately. Any angel would. Michael. He was surprised the archangel hadn't sought him out and smote him as well. Perhaps he wasn't even considered a threat. At the rate he was falling he wouldn't be for much longer.
If Michael had found the Winchesters, there was no point looking for them in the past. Michael had no need for his sword until Lucifer walked free. He would have brought them back to the Apocalypse. Castiel could only pray to his Father that they weren't being tortured to convince Dean to say yes. He didn't doubt the possibility.
Returning through time would be difficult even without passengers. In his current state he wasn't sure he would survive. But he had to find the Winchesters, had to make sure they were safe. Once more he took flight, landing in the motel room the Winchesters had stayed at. There were voices, strong arms reaching out to steady him. Sam and Dean. With one last relieved smile at seeing his friends alive and well, Castiel gave in to oblivion, knowing that he would be safe.