I know we're not to the real Destiel and Sabriel yet, but we're getting there, I promise. We're taking the scenic route. And a detour. Or two. The minor destiel present was written by Thallen.

Raphael's scream reverberated through the family nest. Michael and Lucifer had been lying in companionable silence and Gabriel had been encouraging the fledgling into telling them when Raphael had molted last. The answer had been "Like clocks," but that only meant so much to the creatures who had been out of the loop for thousands of years.

Gabriel wrapped himself around the fledgling, using his own grace to block the child from the outside world. Sami did not need to listen to his parental figure's cries, especially not when the rest of them had no idea what was wrong.

Michael moved instantaneously, approaching the writhing archangel. Raphael had clearly awoken, if his open eyes were anything to go by. They glowed with grace, suggesting that this was the result of something else happening.

"Rafa," Michael soothed. "Can you hear me?"

Raphael did not scream again, but he whimpered in distress and rocked back and forth. It almost sounded as though he had whispered, "Azi," but Michael wasn't sure if that was the mumbled word.

Michael kneeled beside Raphael. "Do you know where you are?"

Again, Raphael didn't respond. Michael looked over his shoulder at Lucifer, unsure what he should do. Raphael's grace was almost palpable and with it this close to the surface, touching the other archangel was not one of the safer things to do. It probably wouldn't do him any permanent damage, but if Raphael came to his senses to discover that his grace had hurt one of his siblings, he would feel unnecessarily upset about it. So it would just be better not to allow it to reach that point.

Lucifer crawled forward. "Rafa?" He didn't expect an answer, not with his lack of recognition so far. But the only thing he could think was that if they talked quietly to their younger brother, eventually he would come back to himself. Maybe he wouldn't even panic further. "Mikha, why are you staring at me? I don't know what's wrong any more than you do."

Gabriel swallowed audibly. When Michael and Lucifer glanced his way, a slight tremor wracked his body. "I… I might know what happened, but not how to fix it." He curled in on himself. "It's my fault," he whispered.

Michael and Lucifer shared a look, almost as though conversing silently and quickly. Lucifer headed towards Gabriel and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's probably not all your fault." Michael glared, but it wasn't harsh, Michael was incapable of anything other than soft looks when it came to Lucifer. Lucifer sighed. "Why don't you tell us what happened."

"Aziraphale's still on Earth," Gabriel said, quietly. "I don't know what you guys think happened, but he was on Earth when I ran away. He helped me take on the Trickster persona so that I couldn't be found or tracked, and well, I've sent him various gifts from time to time since then." Gabriel waited a moment, but neither Lucifer nor Michael interrupted him so he continued. "I didn't exactly leave a forwarding address, sot I've never heard anything back. I know he gets them, but I don't even know if he knows they're from me. But anyway, he gave his sword to Eve in the garden, and I've known where it was for like, forever, but he's never taken it back, maybe Azi doesn't even remember where it ended up, so I sent him a book. One that might reveal it's location to him. I just thought… just thought that if he went and got his sword, he'd come home." Gabriel sniffled. "With you two not fighting and no apocalypse planned for the near future, I just thought that maybe, that maybe we could bring Azi…. Azi and Samael and… and Castiel, home."

Lucifer wrapped an arm around Gabriel while he thought about what to say. The memories of Samael had never come back as clearly as he knew they would have once been, and he'd never been able to ask what the others remembered of Samael. He could barely remember that the other archangel was his twin, and he knew, knew, that there should have been more emotion there. But there wasn't. It was just gone, a hole in his mind that as far as he knew couldn't be fixed. Azi would know more, knowledge had always been the greatest of his powers. Or Raphael, even, but Azi was who knows where and Raphael was catatonic.

"Oh, Raph," Michael whispered. "This is what you wanted the whole time…"

Tears leaked from Raphael's eyes as they returned to their normal coloring.

"It's okay, Rafa," Michael soothed. "It'll all be okay."

"No." Raphael's voice was hoarse, scratchy. "No, it won't be. "

"Why not?" Lucifer asked. "It sounds to me like there's already been vast improvement."

"I lost Azi's sword!" Raphael howled. "I warded it and now someone's gone and moved it and that shouldn't have been possible!" More tears, this time likely of frustration, slid down his face. "I wanted to bring it back here, but I couldn't touch it, couldn't move it."

Michael wrapped his arms around his little brother. "Rafa, Gabriel thinks Aziraphale retrieved his sword. It is his, after all, and Gabriel has it on good authority that Azi's been on Earth all this time, that he's still on Earth, even."

"Re-really?" Raphael blinked owlishly. "Can he come home?"

"Of course. Why shouldn't he? Well, as long as he wants to come home. We can't very well force him into something he'd detest us for. That just wouldn't be fair."

"Gabriel didn't want to come home, and he's here now," Raphael reminded him.

"Gabriel, have we kept you here against your will?" Michael asked.

"Nope!" Gabriel tried to grin, but it was more of a sad smile. "If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be here," he said finally. "Besides! You guys aren't half bad when you're not fighting." He unwrapped his wings from around the fledgling.

Samandriel stamped his feet. "No wings! No! Not napping time!" He stomped across the room towards Raphael. "Rafa! Not napping time! Mean Gabby!"

Raphael held his arms out towards the fledgling who proceeded to crawl into his lap. "Okay, Sami. No naptime, yet."

"No nap time, ever!" the fledgling exclaimed.

Under other circumstances, Raphael might have grinned, but he didn't have the energy to do much more than rub the child's shoulder in an effort to remind himself that he'd lost nothing more than he'd already lost. "I'm not sure I can promise that. You'd get so tired and grumpy if you never slept."

"Not true!" Sami argued.

"Sure." Raphael didn't really want to argue with the fledgling. There was no point to doing so. It wouldn't prove anything and Sami would fight the assessment about being tired even as he was fighting sleep.

Gabriel watched them. "I could go," he said quietly. "I could see if Azi wants to come home."

"Mikha can't go," Raphael said when Michael opened his mouth to say just that. When the eldest archangel looked ready to argue the point, he added, "Your wing isn't up for that kind of flight yet. I… I'm just not sure I can heal it again if you break it a third time. Please stay. "

"Aright," Michael agreed, albeit unhappily. "But should someone go with Gabriel?"

"It wouldn't do to surround him," Lucifer said. "And my presence might scare him, if he's fallen for the Apocalypse trite." He considered. "Do we have any idea what happened to Samael?"

The other three all shook their heads. "I thought he was also gone," Raphael said. "But now I'm not so sure."

Samandriel fisted at Raphael's shirt. "Rafa no leave!"

Raphael smiled at the fledgling. "Okay," he agreed. As much as he wanted to see Azi again, he was just so tired and maybe there'd be time for a nap before they returned.

"I'll be back soon," Gabriel said, and left.

Raphael shifted, rubbing the fledgling's back absentmindedly. His wings itched and he was so tired, and he didn't really want Gabriel to leave, even though he knew it was necessary. That he was doing it for him.

Since Michael was still right next to Raphael, he reached for a wing, running a warm and gentle hand along his spine and along the wing shoulders. His wings were colder than they should have been, and Michael could feel how dry and chafed his skin was under the feathers.

Raphael shifted again, a little in agitation, a little because Michael's hands were warm and his sore wings appreciated the almost massage.

"Why aren't you molting?" Michael asked. He could tell by touching Raphael's wings that he was overdue a molt. Feathers weren't falling out like they had started in Lucifer's wings, but when he gently pulled on a feather he knew should have come out, it wouldn't, as though Raphael's grace was actively fighting the molt.

"Can't molt." Raphael whimpered when he felt Michael tugging on one of his sensitive feathers. It felt like Michael was trying to tear part of him away, even though the outvoted part of his brain was screaming that this was normal and that it was supposed to fall out. But he couldn't let go of it. It would leave him unprotected. It's one feather. It would leave him diffenceless, and Michael and Lucifer and Gabriel all needed their molts more. They couldn't all molt at once, it wasn't safe. So he'd wait. And even though he'd always molted once a year, like clockwork, he'd not had one since the first seal had broken. There'd been so much to do, and no time. He'd had to make sure Lucifer would get out the cage, and not destroy the world, because he'd just wanted his family whole. Having his family whole was more important than his own comfort. Not when every molt was a delay and weakness he hadn't been able to afford because every second mattered.

Michael tried tugging on a different damaged feather, but it also wouldn't come free. As he looked, he found that there were an unusually high number of damaged feather for someone who supposedly molted "like clocks". "Rafa, when did you last molt?"

Raphael choked back something that sound suspiciously like a half sob. "First seal," he mumbled, quietly. More recently than any of his siblings, but it still felt like so long ago. And by heaven time, it had been. Almost twenty months had passed on Earth since the Righteous Man had broken the first seal, and time on Heaven passed the same as it did in Hell. So many years to free Heylel and nothing else had mattered.

"You're safe," Michael said. "It's okay." Instead of trying to pull in any of Raphael's feathers, he groomed at them instead, straightening what he could but mostly just reassuring Raphael with gentle touches that he wasn't going anywhere.

Lucifer approached from the other side and laid down next to Raphael and in a position where he could reach his brother's other wing. "You should have taken better care of yourself," he scolded. "You can't run on fumes."

Raphael wasn't sure why he was almost crying again. He was an angel, he shouldn't have needed to cry. But with his older brothers on each side of him platonically looking after his mangled feathers, he couldn't help but curl towards the fledgling.

"You need to let go," Michael whispered. "These feathers aren't healthy, they need to regrow." He carded one hand through the feathers and the other up Raphael's back and into his hair.

Raphael didn't want to, didn't want to risk losing everything over a few feathers, but with the comforting touches his brothers were giving him, he didn't have the energy to fight the molt. And finally, as Michael kept petting Raphael's wing, the first feather finally fell.

Castiel had been helping his human (well humans, Sam too. But Gabriel's claim to the taller hunter was stronger.), with a hunt. Something normal, as far as hunting the supernatural went, when he felt the urge to return to Heaven descend upon him, suddenly and strong. There wasn't a direct order given, and it didn't feel like a reprimand. In his mind's eye, he could see a doorway in Heaven and his grace was pushing him, telling him he needed to guard it.

"Cas? You okay?" Dean asked, hesitantly, his voice cautious and almost timid. Almost. He knew his Dean could face down the fiercest of opponents with only his volatile gaze and his quick wit, but with softer matters, matters of the mind, matters of the heart, he was more cautious and halting. Traversing territory that he had seldom crossed before, and that Cas himself was inexperienced with. They were both "playing it by the ear", so to speak. But something else had a hold on him now. Dean had stopped, turning back to glance over his shoulder when he realized the angel was no longer following.

"I need to return to Heaven," he stated after a moment. "But I will return as soon as I can." He would not leave Dean without an explanation. Or Sam, Sam of course too.

He hesitated a moment longer. Until Dean opened his mouth to argue, to ask, before he took flight. He didn't have time for irrelevant arguments. He had a job to do.

Castiel made his way slowly through heaven. There didn't seem to be a lot of angels around, but he chose to make his way towards the door in the way that would bring the least amount of attention to himself.

Heading for the door led him to a wing of a building he'd never been inside before. The door was shut, and he had no idea what was inside and he found that it didn't matter. What mattered was that he needed to stand there and protect it. So he did.

Crowley stared at Aziraphale. He'd known the angel for 6000 years and he hadn't remembered anything about three pairs of white wings. His angel looked like wrath incarnate, sword drawn and held aloft and wings spread as though he were about to charge an entire legion on a path of vengeance, except the angel didn't look angry. "Aziraphale? You're not going to, smite , me. Are you?"

The apparent archangel blinked. "No, Samael, why would I smite you? That would go against the Arrangement, wouldn't it?"

"But, well, yes, but, Angel, you're an archangel."

"So are you. What's your point?"

The demon tilted his head in confusion. "What are you talking about? Have you gone daft? I think we'd know if I was a fallen archangel. That title only belongs to Lucifer, and you know that. "

Aziraphale frowned. "I'm not sure Heylel would technically be considered a fallen angel. I mean, he was cast out of Heaven, but he didn't choose to fall. And he was only put in the cage because he was confronting God for hurting Mikha."

"How do you know that?" Crowley hissed. "Are you sure you're not just daft in the head?"

"I just do." Aziraphale considered the demon for a moment, and then he smiled as he came up with the answer. "Do you trust me?" he asked. "I think I know how to make you remember."

"I do trust you," Crowley said. "But why would I want to remember? I'm sure there's some logical reason I don't remember."

"No one else remembers, at least nothing more than bits and pieces," Aziraphale replied. "But I am the archangel of secrets, mysteries, and knowledge."

"Alright, go ahead," Crowley said. "But when this ends badly, I am holding you responsible."

The sword and the wings vanished, probably back into the other plane where they belonged, and then the angel hugged the demon. Crowley didn't know what he was expecting, but even though he'd definitely gotten closer to the angel after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn't, it still frequently surprised him that the angel would sully himself by touching him. Maybe it was because his angel was now an archangel that their Arrangement made him feel even more guilty than he usually felt about it.

A moment later, Crowley saw what Aziraphale had remembered, and he remembered too. Samael. He was Samael, and he had fallen because he'd been as curious as his twin. In his surprise, he forgot to maintain his human shape. Fucking Manchester.

Aziraphale blinked down at the snake with three pairs of wings who was hissing dramatically from the ground. "Crowley, really! There's no need to be so dramatic! It seems to have all been a misunderstanding, and if Heylel gets to leave the cage, maybe our exile can end too."

Crowley hissed again in annoyance. He hated this form. By Manchester, he hated this form. And now that he could remember why he had this form, how he'd ended up stuck in it, he hated it even more. Regardless of what the Creator might have told Heylel, Crowley didn't blame him for what had happened. No. The fault rested on the shoulders of the Creator.

There was a flash of light behind Aziraphale and the serpent couldn't help but curl himself as tightly as he could, terrified that the world was about to end. They hadn't ever been supposed to remember, and now they did, what would heaven do to them?

Aziraphale turned around, standing between the new appearance and his demon. He didn't draw his sword yet, but he had never been quick to engage unless the danger was imminent. When the light finally dimmed, he stared. "Loki?!"

Gabriel grinned. "So you do remember me! I'd wondered!"

"Not for more than a few minutes," Aziraphale admitted. "What brings you by?"

Crowley hissed worredly.

Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder. "Samael! Knock it off!"

The messenger's eyes widened. "You found Samael?"

"Not exactly. We've known for about a few minutes that he is Samael, but we've both been on Earth since Adam and Even left the Garden." Aziraphale considered the other archangel. "What's new?"

Gabriel smiled. "Rafa'el talked Lucifer down and convinced me to go back to Heaven. It's been… good." He seemed to anticipate that if he didn't clarify, Aziraphale would have repeated his question again. "Raph felt when you reclaimed the sword and freaked out. He genuinely thought you were dead. They want you, both of you, to come back to Heaven."

There was another hiss from Crowley. There was a skeptical air to this one.

The messenger looked around Aziraphale. "Yes, Crowley , you as well. No, I don't know why you're a serpent but I do agree you'd probably be happier in your human form." He listened to the next hiss. "No, Idon't know how to turn you back."

Even more hissing.

"Well, it's possible that returning to heaven would change you back into your true form. But we wouldn't turn you away regardless. Yes, Samael, Heylel and the others do want you to come home."

Crowley didn't hiss at them. He had no idea what he was supposed to say to that. He was wanted. Even after everything, they still wanted to welcome him home. Not a slimy serpent. He was Samael, Crowley,. Heylel's twin. He was an archangel, Manchester, not an archserpent.

It took him a moment of fierce concentration to return to his more human like shape, but he pulled it off.

"Well then, are you both ready to go home?"

"What about my books?" Aziraphale asked, looking affronted.

Crowley glared at Aziraphale. "Angel, I'm sure we can come back for your books."

"But-"

"Rafa'el's been delaying his molt trying to bring us all back to Heaven," Gabriel said. "He was most distraught when his wards went off because your sword had moved."

Aziraphale looked apologetic. "Alright, I see your point. We can get the books later, let's go see our brothers."

Gabriel led the way to the family room in Heaven, Aziraphale and Crowley right on his heels. When they came to the door, they found an angel standing in front of it.

"Brother," Castiel said, specifically addressing Gabriel. He was a little confused because Gabriel had made it clear that he had wanted nothing to do with Heaven, but it must have had something to do with why there'd been the signature of all four archangels in the hotel. Whatever it was, Gabriel looked genuinely happy.

He did not move aside from the door, and he didn't recognize the two angels behind Gabriel.

Aziraphale and Crowley stared at the angel in the doorway until their eyes widened in remembrance. "Gabriel," Aziraphale cooed, "he's grown up so well! He's beautiful!"

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. How did they know him? He had no idea who they were. "What?" he asked.

"Don't mind them," Gabriel said. "But we do need inside this room."

Castiel didn't resist as Gabriel and the two angels following him stepped by him to enter the room he was guarding. He knew they belonged inside, even though he didn't know what was significant about it yet.

The young angel was not prepared for the angel who had not spoke to reach out and foist him into the room. "What?" he squawked, futiling pulling against his grip as he was drug inside and the door shoved closed behind them.

Whatever Castiel had been anticipating, it had not been this. There were feathers everywhere, and three archangels, Michael, Lucifer, and Raphael had all sequestered themselves into a pile on the floor. And was that a fledgling the third archangel was holding onto? Why was there a fledgling? He had been in the last group of angels made and he wasn't still a fledgling.

Raphael, Michael, and Lucifer all glanced in the direction of the door, and Raphael's eyes widened at the sight. But rather than proclaiming at the sight of Aziraphale, as the eldest two archangels were anticipating, he instead exclaimed, "Cassie!"

The healer let go of the fledgling he'd been wrapped around and moved his arms as though stretching them out to Castiel, but wavering as though if he were to try to touch the out-of-reach angel, he would disappear, or worse yet turn into dust and fall through his fingers like water through a sieve.

The angel the three molting archangels had not seen yet pushed Castiel towards Raphael, causing him to flail as he lost his balance. Castiel wouldn't have fallen, but he was close enough for Raphael to touch him and pull the younger angel under his wings and next to the fledgling.

Castiel struggled, more out of confusion than anything else, and the thoughts running through his head were along the lines of "Why is the archangel that killed me acting like this?"