Dean watched the meteors in the sky and involuntarily thought of Castiel's wings, of the faint sparks of energy kicked up by Angel Blades as they swept through the air, of the frequency of Heaven he could occasionally sense.
He didn't know why his mind had leaped to such a terrifying scene.
But those blue, suffering, falling things... every point of light seemed to vaguely possess a similar outline, a similar feeling, only twisted and diminished countless times over by pain and decay.
As if confirming his suspicion.
"...Sam." Dean's voice was hoarse. He turned to look at his brother below the car, his face a complicated mixture of shock and absurdity.
He raised a hand and pointed at the blue rain of light falling across the sky, uttering words that hunters and survivors would repeat again and again many years later—words that came to symbolize the beginning of order's complete collapse:
"The angels..."
He paused, as though he needed to confirm the madness of that conclusion, but the sight before him allowed no doubt.
"Are falling!"
The instant the words left his mouth, as if to prove them true, a point of light larger than the others, with a deeper blue glow and a longer trail of smoke, spiraled out of control toward a cornfield less than a few miles away!
They could even vaguely hear an incredibly faint but pain-filled muffled impact from that direction.
Then came the dull roar of something heavy striking the ground and plowing through the earth, followed by the crackle of several cornstalks catching fire.
Dean and Sam exchanged a look, each seeing the same horror in the other's eyes.
That wasn't a meteor.
That was very likely... actually an angel. An angel thrown out of Heaven in the most wretched, agonizing way