Disclaimer: Don't own any of the boys, would love to own all three!

{A.N. Hey all, this is going to be an ongoing fic for sure, I absolutely loved the Season 8 finale, thought it closed off just enough plotlines and opened up some really good ones. Considering how much the show's canon is starting to replicate some of the stories on this site, I thought I'd try my hand at starting up where they left off. Anyways, this is defs what I'd do if I was the showrunner haha! But yeah, constructive criticism is always appreciated, be nice and leave me a review! Kisses!}

Chapter One: Angelic Lies & Demonic Promises

"She told you I lied, didn't she? You should've listened to the bitch."

Castiel, formerly an Angel of the Lord, the Angel of Thursday, a powerful, omnipresent, celestial being, grimaced as he forced his heavy eyelids to open and pulled himself to his feet.

"I want you to stop thinking about master plans, Heaven and angels, and all this. That doesn't concern you anymore."

He swore under his breath as he tripped over a branch on the pitch black forest floor. Angels don't trip, a small voice in his mind stated, but he ignored it.

"These were never trials, Castiel. This is a spell. And what I'm taking from you now – your essence, your Grace – is the last piece."

Castiel started to hear the wind pick up and howl through the trees and he shivered in the cold air. He finally made it to a clearing and looked up to the sky. And what he saw made his heart drop, made his mouth feel as dry as cotton, and made his blood run cold.

"Now go."

Hundreds of angels, his brothers and sisters, were falling from Heaven. From afar they looked like comets falling, a meteorite shower of epic proportions. But Castiel knew that up close it was an entirely different story. Their wings were being burned, singed off, their Graces were being ripped from their forms, and they were crashing into the ground as he had done. As Metatron had forced him to do.

Castiel subconsciously brought a hand up to his throat, his fingers feeling the unmarked skin. His own Grace had been cut from him, collected by the scribe of God, while he'd been bolted into the chair in Naomi's office. Memories started flooding back then. Naomi, dead on the table, her drill planted firmly in the back of her own bloody head. The angel tablet that Metatron had been distorting so that he could cast out the angels from their own home.

And Dean and Sam, finishing the third trial on the demon tablet in the abandoned church in South Dakota. He had to get to them. And he had to get to them now. He looked to the stars for direction, his heart crumpling when he tried to block out the fiery trails of his family falling.

He finally found Polaris, the North Star and started following it. Cas veered off-course three times before he finally hit a road. It was just a small, single lane dirt track that wound its way through the forest but it appeared luck was on his side tonight for the first time in a long time, as Cas immediately saw a sign suggesting that the direction he was going in led deeper into the forest.

He did an about face and started heading in the opposite bearing and after an hour came across a darkened ranger's hut with a small gravel car park. The car park was empty and the hut was devoid of any signs of life but thankfully a map on the wall showed him that he was currently situated in the forests of North-West Washington State.

Cas sighed despondently. Couldn't Metatron have sent him someplace a little more central? He continued on down the dark, muddy road for another few hours, his thoughts going over the situation he was in over and over again. Surely he couldn't have suspected Metatron's true aims, his true agenda. Could he? No, he couldn't have. The only person who found out anything had been Naomi, and she'd achieved it through drilling into the scribe's eye.

The prophet Kevin Tran had taken months to translate the demon tablet. They were asking the impossible in translating the angel tablet in mere hours. But still, was he that blind? Was he that easily fooled? He'd been lured in by Metatron and his talk of reuniting their family effortlessly. He'd just swallowed every word and believed it, pure and simple. He'd been lured in by Crowley's plans to thwart Raphael with the use of Purgatory's souls. He'd quickly decided that was a good idea, Leviathans be damned. And Uriel, way back then, had tricked him into making Dean torture Alastair, almost resulting in Dean's death.

Was he really just a hammer as Dean had described him all those years ago? Cas sighed again, as the sky lightened around him, midnight turning into dawn. He'd been walking for five hours since he'd fallen. But it seemed like days. Time seemed different to him. Slower. Maybe this was what it felt like being mortal. He'd have to remember that.

He swore again, a word learned from Dean, when he tripped over a tree root that had strayed close to the road. Castiel fell to his hands and knees, the wet mud chilling him instantly. He exhaled slowly, begging his tear ducts not to betray him. He had to remain strong if he was ever going to make it back to the Winchesters alive.

Castiel was just getting to his feet when he saw headlights bobbing up the road, the faint outline in the dawn light of a four-wheel-drive behind them. Cas immediately launched himself into the tree line away from the prying eyes of whoever might be driving the vehicle. He'd caused this mess – again, he reminded himself – he didn't know who might be out to get him now. He bit his lip so as to stay silent when a tree branch scraped his cheek. But the Jeep passed him without event and he chanced a glimpse at it. Park rangers – probably checking to see the damage after the "meteorite shower".

The former angel stumbled back onto the road, now much dirtier and sore than he was before and continued on his trek. Three hours later he'd made it to the highway and had hitched a ride into town – Chelan, the sign said. The elderly lady who'd picked him up could barely see so she hadn't even asked why he was covered in mud and dirt. Castiel just wished he'd been able to clean himself up before getting into her little Volvo but time was of the essence.

The thought made him think again of his lost Grace. He felt emptiness inside him, gnawing at him, tinged with a deep depression. But he pushed those feelings aside. He needed to get to South Dakota. He found a restroom at a Biggerson's and managed to clean himself up somewhat. The cut on his cheek wasn't deep and thankfully had stopped bleeding, but it stung when he touched it.

So this is how humans feel pain, he mused as he wiped the mud off his coat. He had to look somewhat presentable otherwise people would think negatively about him. That was one thing he'd learnt from Dean.

He walked back outside and headed onto the highway travelling West. He hitched another ride and, three hours later, was in Spokane. He found some small change in his pocket and managed to get himself some lunch whilst in Spokane after the pain in his stomach and the dizziness he felt became too much. This whole mortal thing really wasn't as fantastic as Dean seemed to make out it was, he complained inwardly.

Another hitched ride in a cramped 1980's Beetle and he was in Missoula, Montana. It was now late afternoon and he only just managed to get out of Washington State. He knew from riding around in the Impala with the Winchesters that Sioux Falls was still at least a day's driving away, if not more. But he had no money, and no phone. There was no angel radio because there were no angels. He had no one to turn to for any help. He just had to keep going.

He slept in a bus shelter in East Missoula that night and almost froze in the icy air and biting winds. This trenchcoat really wasn't all that warm, he thought, and after a few hours of shut eye, he decided to get up and keep walking.

Ignoring the pain in his stomach, the light-headedness and the ache in his heart, Castiel continued his journey. Another ride, this time in a vintage Chevrolet a little younger than Dean's took him through Montana and the North-Eastern corner of Wyoming to Spearfish, a little town on the Western border of South Dakota. The guy even bought him breakfast and lunch and Cas's spirits started to raise. Maybe it would be alright after all, what with the angels out of Heaven and all. Maybe it could all work out.

Castiel had been thinking about how they could all co-exist in peace and harmony as he'd walked along the deserted highway in the brisk early evening air. He'd been thinking that maybe there'd be some way to make it all better, right all of the wrongs when he stopped in his tracks.

In front of him stood a red-headed girl. She was tall and slim and for a moment, Cas thought it was Anna again. But that thought was quashed almost as soon as it had crossed his mind. This was no angel. He might not be an angelic being anymore but he could still tell a demon from a mile off. And this one was a doozy.

She started walking towards him, her high heeled boots clicking on the asphalt. Her slender legs were encased in the tightest black jeans Castiel had ever seen, her top half was accentuated by a revealing top that involved lacing down the sides and the black motorcycle jacket topped it off in a way that would have made Castiel nervous and Dean Winchester excited.

"Hello Castiel," she said.

"Who are you?" he replied, his voice gruff and low.

"Why Castiel, I'm surprised, you and me go way back," she purred, running her hand through her bright red hair. "Go on, guess!"

"I'm not going to play your stupid games, demon," Castiel replied. He wished, not for the first time since he was mortal, that he still had the powers of Heaven at his disposal, that he could smite this filthy being from the face of the earth and be done with her.

"Fine. It starts with an 'A' and ends with a 'baddon'," she grinned, getting right up close and personal with the former angel.

He refused to look at her, looked instead at the darkening field surrounding them, the pitch black highway road, the waning moon in the sky. "Get out of my way Abaddon. Now."

"Please, like you could do anything to stop me anyway, you're completely powerless," Abaddon laughed, throwing her head back, the vibrant hair of her latest vessel falling over her shoulders. "You're a puny, pathetic little human. I eat up people like you for breakfast. Excuse the pun," she said. "I don't think I want to get out of my way. I think I want to take you back to my lair and carve you up. Just a little bit."

"I'll ask you one more time, Abaddon, get"- Castiel's words were cut off when Abaddon's hand lunged out and grabbed his throat and hoisted him bodily into the air.

"No, I don't think you will. I'm tired of hearing your voice," she said, squeezing Cas's windpipe shut. "I promise you, you will beg for mercy once I've tried my hand at cutting out all the secrets you're keeping. And then you won't be demanding things, you'll be pleading for your life."

His hands clawed at the crushing grip she had on his throat but to no avail. Black spots appeared in his vision, he could hear a strange choking noise and realized it was himself. His feet dangled in the air, kicking out but never reaching the demon that was slowly strangling the life out of him. The pressure on his throat was unbearable and, in a brief moment of lucidity, Cas remembered how many times he'd seen a demon or angel alike do the same to Sam or Dean. No wonder they held anything un-human in such low regard.

Finally his bright blue eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out cold in Abaddon's grip. The Knight of Hell opened her hand and dropped him unceremoniously to the cold, hard road. She snapped her fingers and two demonic henchmen appeared beside her.

"Any word on Crowley?" she asked without bothering to even look at the hellspawn beside her.

"No ma'am, the Winchesters still have him, should we"-

"No. Leave him where he is. They'll take care of him just fine. It's a new dawn children, and we're going to start it by finding out everything there is to know about the Winchesters and Heaven. From this little guy here." She finished off with a well-aimed kick to the unconscious former angel's ribs. "Why don't you take him to Crowley's little lair. I rather liked that place. You know what to do."

"Yes ma'am," the two demons intoned. They grabbed Castiel and were gone in an instant. Abaddon surveyed the dark, empty highway and sighed happily, a smile forming on her face. "As fun as the 1950's were, I've got a feeling this time it's just going to get better and better."

As suddenly as she had appeared Abaddon was gone and the lonely South Dakota highway was barren of any beings – human, demon, or former angel – once again.

{A.N. So tell me what you think! Hit the review button and tell me if you like it! I think Abaddon is an awesome character and defs want to see more of her, really hoping she stays a redhead!}