I don't understand most of what comes out of Dean's mouth these days; what makes you think I would know what your "feelings" are "doing"?

[He pauses, jaw clenching, eyes narrowing. This... was never how it was meant to be. It wasn't Metatron's choice to make, and Castiel... he wasn't meant to make the wrong choice again. There was a time when he lost his powers due to his own choice to stand against Heaven, to defend humanity. Not the first time he's attempted to choose, apparently. Not the last time either, not by a long shot. Always, always the wrong choice, however. It was easy to believe he could save them. It was easy to trust Metatron. After all, the Winchesters did, too.

And now angels are falling from the sky like comets, their wings burning, everything they are altered to something unfamiliar to them. To think that the sister who cut away at their minds had better intentions than the Scribe... 

Then again. If anyone knows the road to catastrophes is paved with good intentions, it's Castiel himself, and in the end, he's the one who failed yet again. His Grace is what helped cast them all out, and nothing but his name being called in desperate prayer and the image of his burning siblings is left to him.]

More than anything, they did not deserve this. None of them.

I...

I fail to see a cause for excitement, for good things to come, and I implore you not to do something both of us will regret more than anything that already awaits me. Don't remove me from this place only to return me human... useless. Don't make me face my siblings knowing all of this. 

[That in the end, no matter what they do, their choices are taken away. That they will never learn, but burn and fall as thought they did wrong.]

Don't.

[Don't take away all that he is. Don't put a needle in his eye. Don't burn his wings for good.]