A/N: This story came about when TryAgainSugar on Ao3 asked if I would ever write a romance story for Cas. My initial gut response was, "er, that's not really my thing…" Which was the exact same reaction I had when someone requested the kid!Cas fic, and look how that turned out. So when the muse decided it really wanted to play with this concept, I gave in.

It didn't end up being much of a romance, though. More like a tragic pre-love story. In addition to the slow build, it's also an AU of mid-season 10 and Cain's storyline. So, you know, angst and whump as well. ;)

Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading and encouraging me to ignore my doubts and write this fic!

Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine, nor are the lines from episode 10x14 "The Executioner's Song" that will pop up throughout this fic.

Chapter 1

Castiel drove his car slowly down the narrow dirt road, overgrown branches and bushes scraping the sides of the Continental. The path clearly didn't see much traffic. But if his sources were correct, the person he expected to find living in a cabin deep in these woods was practically a hermit. It had taken Castiel a great deal of time to track down this location, and he wasn't even certain he had the right place. But when it came to any potential lead on curing Dean of the Mark of Cain, Castiel would chase it down to the edge of the earth.

He slowed the car to a stop and put it in park. Through the trees up ahead, he caught the slant of a roof. It was probably best he approach on foot, take a cautious look around. After all, the one rumored to reside here was dangerous.

Castiel shut off the engine and exited the car, careful to close the door as quietly as possible. Then he started down the road toward the cabin. The woods were almost eerily still; any birds or rodents that might have been in the area had fallen silent. Though, perhaps that was because he was disturbing the normal tranquility.

Leaves crinkled softly under his feet as he made his way under the canopy of trees. Castiel paused and roved his gaze down one trunk. There was warding notched into the bark. A glance around showed similar sigils engraved in the surrounding trees. When he came to the edge of the clearing where the cabin sat, his gaze fell to glittering pebbles lined up side by side like pearls of quartz. It was rock salt, actually, and Castiel visually traced the trail in a ring that arced all the way behind the cabin, likely creating a full protective circle. Either someone was expecting unsavory visitors, or they were just hyper-vigilant like Bobby Singer had been. Or perhaps both.

Castiel took a few steps into the clearing, and jolted to a stop as a pressurized whoomp slammed into him from both sides, pinning him in place. He tried to move, but it suddenly felt as though an invisible vice had clamped around his legs and torso. He couldn't retreat, couldn't even move his arm up to retrieve his blade from his coat.

Castiel's heart rate ratcheted up, and he whipped his gaze around frantically for the source. He hadn't noticed before, but the branches above his head were somehow woven together, key intersections tied with hemp to create a camouflaged devil's trap. That wasn't what was holding him, though, obviously. No, that would be the Enochian sigils he spotted carved into two trees, one on either side of him, directly across from each other. Two pieces to a lock, they only engaged when an angel stepped between them.

And Castiel was caught. He strained against the invisible pressure and tried to lift his arm in order to reach his blade, or even his phone, though he probably shouldn't have expected cell service this far out. His chest burned from the exertion, and he felt his muscles quivering from the effort, but nothing was happening. Perhaps if he hadn't been running on stolen grace, he might have been able to push back harder. Or so it comforted him to think in that split moment before a figure emerged from the back of the cabin.

Castiel stiffened, recognizing immediately that he was at this creature's mercy; though, he'd come to ask for her help, and so was at her mercy anyway. Castiel steeled himself as the woman stalked closer. She appeared relatively harmless—save for the crossbow in her hands—dressed in dark jeans and a long sleeve burgundy shirt with a black vest. Her hair was a deep, rich auburn, plaited up in a braid that wrapped around her head.

Castiel frowned. She looked…not familiar; Castiel had never met a phoenix before. But there was something, a niggle in the back of his mind. Sam had once explained to Castiel the concept of déjà vu, and he almost felt as though that was what he was experiencing now, though he couldn't understand why that would be the case.

She came to a stop several feet away, crossbow resting unthreateningly against her shoulder as she roved her gaze up and down him, then at the two trees with the activated sigils simmering slightly. "So, angel," she said, turning back to him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Castiel would have shifted nervously if he could move. "I don't mean you any harm. I came seeking your assistance."

She laughed. "That's a new one." But then she hesitated, narrowing her eyes, and it was as though her gaze was actually boring into him.

Castiel's pulse started racing again. He hated being vulnerable like this. "Please, I'm telling you the truth."

Her brow slowly furrowed into disbelief. "Castiel?" she asked uncertainly.

His unease escalated, and he desperately wished he could reach his angel blade. "How do you know who I am?"

He knew his reputation had circulated among angels and demons, though he hadn't expected it to reach quite this far. And he knew most of it wasn't flattering…

Her mouth quirked. "Granted, you look different. I admit I hardly recognize you."

He blinked at her in bewilderment. "Have we met?" he asked carefully.

Her expression shifted between surprise and puzzlement for several moments before it smoothed to bland coolness. "I wouldn't have thought a few thousand years was long enough to make you forget."

Castiel was utterly confused now. "I'm sorry, maybe you have me mixed up with another angel." Maybe…maybe she recognized the aura of the angel's grace currently churning inside him. But then…how had she known his name?

She stared at him for a long moment in which Castiel felt as though she were dissecting him again. There was also a strange mixture of mystification, anger, and disappointment in her amber eyes. "Maybe I have," she said quietly. "So if that's not why you came, what do you want?"

Castiel frowned. If what wasn't why he came? "Um as I said, I'm here to ask for your help with something."

She turned away to set her crossbow down. He couldn't tell whether keeping her back to him was a show of disregard or something more private. "With what?"

"Uh, well…" He would have preferred to be freed for this discussion, but he supposed he couldn't really make demands since she had no reason to trust him yet. "I've been looking for a way to cure the Mark of Cain from my friend. It's driving him mad, twisting his soul." It had already turned Dean into a demon once; Castiel suspected Sam wouldn't survive if it happened again.

She snorted and turned back to face him. "You're friends with Cain now?"

Castiel tried to shake his head, but couldn't. "No," he ground out. "Cain passed the Mark onto someone else, a man named Dean Winchester."

Castiel belatedly realized that perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned the name Winchester, which had just as much of a reputation, especially among monster kind.

She regarded him for a prolonged moment. "And why did you come to me for this kind of help?"

Castiel swallowed hard. "When we questioned the Scribe of God, he said 'the river ends at the source.' That could mean the source of the Mark, but Lucifer's in the Cage and unreachable." Not that the sadistic archangel would help, anyway. "But what if he meant another type of source…" Castiel hesitated. "You are the Alpha phoenix, correct?"

She lifted her brows dubiously. "I have no connection to the Mark."

"I know, but you are a source," Castiel said hurriedly, hoping to explain before she grew bored and tried to kill him. If she knew enough sigil work to trap him, he had no illusions that she probably possessed the means to kill him as well.

"And you are by nature rebirth and regeneration. If there is anything you think you could do…" he trailed off desperately. This whole thing had been a long-shot, and Castiel knew it.

He inhaled sharply. "Please. I…I would be in your debt."

The look she gave him was utterly and carefully blank. Castiel was treading dangerous waters here. To be in someone's debt wasn't the same as striking a bargain with a demon, but it could wind him into some trouble later on. It was worth the risk, though.

She didn't respond for several long moments in which Castiel was forced to stand, paralyzed, and wait. Finally, she walked over to the tree on the left and ran a finger over one of the carved lines, leaving a trail of charred bark. There was a small pop on the air, and Castiel nearly collapsed as the pressure that had been bearing down on him suddenly vanished.

The phoenix strode back over to him. "Alright, Castiel. I will see what I can do."

He gaped at her, unsure of what he'd just heard. Never had he thought this venture would have gone so easily. Well, easily being he was only trapped, not injured or tortured.

"Thank you," he said.

She turned her gaze down the road. "Angels drive cars now? I heard that clunker pull up, you know."

Ah. He should have parked further back.

"Well, I don't know how much you're aware of what's happened the past few years," Castiel said, heading for the Continental. "But the angels were cast out of Heaven. We've since reclaimed it, but many wings were damaged in the fall."

Not his, though. His were violently removed along with his original grace, and the stolen grace that gave him access to angelic powers again did not restore them.

"The angels falling was hard to miss," she replied, walking around to the passenger side.

Castiel paused at the driver's door and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't ask your name before…"

She looked over at him with a stony expression that had cracks of stricken emotion underneath. Which left Castiel baffled and feeling somewhat at a loss, like he was missing something.

"Call me Ryn," she said, and slid into the car.

The drive back to the main highway was fraught with an uncomfortable silence. Ryn didn't seem inclined to make conversation, not even to ask for more details about the situation with Dean and the Mark.

…And, she had agreed to help rather quickly. Was Castiel unwittingly leading an enemy to the bunker? What if Ryn recognized the name Winchester and was using this as an opportunity to target Sam and Dean? Castiel's fingers tightened around the steering wheel. There had been that phoenix the brothers went back in time to kill, to get its ashes in order to vanquish Eve, the Mother of All. Perhaps the Alpha phoenix wanted vengeance for that.

"Um, not that I'm not grateful you agreed to help," Castiel began, flicking a glance at Ryn. "But, why did you? Monsters aren't typically so giving."

Ryn started shaking her head, and if Castiel didn't know better, he'd say she looked…wounded. "I honestly can't tell if you're serious and pretending, or you're just…" She gestured at him in frustration, and then let out an aggravated noise. "Never mind. Let's just say I owe a debt and leave it at that."

Castiel furrowed his brow. What did she mean 'if he was pretending'? Pretending what? And whom did she owe a debt to that could be paid by helping Castiel or the Winchesters now?

Another disconcerting thought occurred to him, and he swallowed nervously. "Do…do we know each other from somewhere?"

Ryn turned in her seat to pierce him with that sharp gaze again, as though trying to discern his intentions behind what he thought was a straightforward question. Yet he was beginning to suspect that the answer would unlock a torrential floodgate.

"From another lifetime," she finally said.

Castiel's suspicion turned to outright dread. He knew there were…gaps, in his memory. He had no idea just how many times Naomi had dug into his head and washed it clean, and had given up on ever retrieving those lost pieces of himself. Most of them were far away, anyhow. But now, though, there seemed to be one sitting right next to him.

A lump gathered in his throat. "From when?"

"Egypt."

Egypt. There was one time for certain where Castiel had confirmation Naomi had tampered with his memories. "The Ten Plagues?"

"Oh, so now you remember?" she muttered.

Castiel's throat constricted further, making it difficult to speak. "No…I don't remember." His voice nearly choked with the pain of the memory he did have—Naomi torturing him as she clawed her way into his mind, dissecting everything he was and putting it back together the way she wanted.

Ryn's hand suddenly lashed out to steady the wheel, and Castiel snapped back to the present to find his hands shaking. He carefully steered the car onto the shoulder before he could crash them. No need to repeat that.

Castiel looked over to find Ryn frowning at him. "I'm sorry," he forced out. "I don't mean to be thoughtless. I…my memories…" He took a deep breath to center himself. "My memories of Egypt were wiped by another angel."

Ryn visibly tensed, and Castiel realized he wasn't the only one standing on the edge of a knife here. "Why?" she asked guardedly.

Castiel shook his head. "I must have disobeyed. The angel who…Naomi—she was in charge of 'correcting' behavior. She said I never fully obeyed."

Why was he being so open with this woman? He didn't know who she was, or at least didn't remember, and yet he felt oddly at ease just…talking.

Ryn, however, looked at him with growing horror. "You…you didn't ask to forget?" she asked in a quiet voice.

Castiel was shocked, and somewhat angry at the implication. "No. What Naomi did to us—it was torture. She broke us apart like her toys and reassembled us as she saw fit. None of us would ever choose that."

He wrenched his gaze away, heart pounding against his rib cage. He'd thought he'd put it behind him, gotten over it, but the truth was it had just been buried under all the other crap heaped upon his head: Metatron stealing his grace, casting the angels out, trying to restore Heaven, Dean becoming a demon, and now trying to save the Winchester's soul before Castiel's stolen grace burned out like a candle flame, snuffing him out of existence as well. But now the horrors of what he'd been through were surfacing again, reminding Castiel that the wounds were still raw.

"I'm sorry," Ryn murmured.

He sighed. "I shouldn't have lost my temper. It's just…I don't even know why I told you all that. I'm sorry," he said again.

Ryn kept her gaze fixated on her lap. "No, I am." When she looked up, there were unshed tears of anguish in her eyes. "I was your disobedience."

Castiel blinked, uncomprehending. "What?"

Ryn let out a long exhale. "When the angels descended to slay all the firstborn, I decided to flee." She hesitated, jaw working for several long moments before she continued, slowly and carefully. "You intercepted me. Technically, I am a firstborn, being an Alpha. Not to mention I'm not human and…most angels consider me an abomination. You, however…" Ryn shifted her gaze out the window. "You let me go."

Castiel stared at her in stunned stupefaction. Could…could that really have been his act of disobedience that Naomi punished? He hadn't killed a phoenix? But he'd slaughtered hundreds of children in the name of God?

The air was suddenly too close, too sparse. Castiel thrust his door open and stumbled out of the car, sucking in sharp breaths of crisp oxygen in an effort to clear his head. Bracing his hands on the hood, he focused on the minuscule scratches in the paint, anything to beat back the roiling emotions relentlessly bombarding him. He heard the passenger door click open.

"I'm sorry, Castiel," Ryn said, sounding truly devastated. "I didn't know…"

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. What would she have done about it, anyway? "I don't understand. Why…why did I let you go?" He lifted his gaze to meet hers, pleading for answers the angels had never bothered to give him. And maybe the accusation in his tone was barbed, but he needed to understand.

She opened her mouth, but then hesitated. "I had no part in that conflict. And…you were not a murderer."

Castiel let out a disgusted sound and looked away in shame. "Tell that to the rest of the firstborn."

"You were a soldier following orders."

Castiel whipped his head back in surprise at the familiar ring to that statement. How many times had he fallen back on it? Used it as an excuse for his actions, even leading up to the Apocalypse? The way Ryn said it, it was almost as though she'd heard it from an angel first…and there was no condemnation in her tone.

But if he was just following orders, why had he made an exception for her? Castiel began to suspect that there was more to the story, that Ryn had chosen her words with extra care, but he was too overwhelmed at the moment to press, and she didn't seem willing to be more forthcoming. She'd fallen silent, the two of them standing on the side of the road as she waited for Castiel to collect himself.

He finally straightened. "I'm sorry. That was just…a lot to take in."

Ryn nodded in understanding.

Castiel narrowed his eyes in consideration. "So, you're helping me now to repay a debt you think you owe me?"

Ryn gazed back at him, expression once again schooled. "Yes." With that, she turned and slipped back into the car.

Castiel didn't know what to make of this turn of events. He'd found a key to his past, but to a dark time he wasn't sure he wanted to remember. Even if he did, though, Dean and the Mark had to come first. Ryn seemed genuinely willing to help, and for now, Castiel would take anything he could get.

A/N: ...So what do you think?