Danielle was busy. After being released form Zachariah, she felt an overwhelming sense of liberation, so much so that she had no idea what to do with herself. So she had decided to throw a party, though she had a bit of trouble deciding exactly what for. She figured a 'Yay Your Abusive Mentor is Dead' party was a little depressing. She couldn't remember where she had heard it—probably up in Heaven—but she was quite sure that Castiel was reaching a milestone soon. It was the angelic equivalent of turning twenty-one in America, so far as she could tell. That seemed to be a pretty big deal for humans—other humans. She constantly had to remind herself that she was human too.

Either way, planning a party for Castiel was giving her something to do. It was a learning experience for her, but she figured she was doing alright. There wouldn't be many of them anyways: just her, Lucifer, and Castiel, plus the comatose Gabriel. The Winchester boys weren't around, but it probably would have been awkward if they were. As for Michael…Danielle didn't know where he stood on the matter: or rather, where Crowley stood on the matter. She decided to send a quick prayer to check. "Um, Michael?" she began, looking at the ceiling. "I…I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm holding a small celebration of Castiel's majority age here at the Hut. If you can make it…I think it would mean a lot to him…" She bit her lip and looked down, feeling stupid. The party was a dumb idea anyways, and Michael had more important things to deal with. She sighed and shook her head, going back to decorating.

As it happened, Michael did hear Danielle's prayer, and he very badly wanted to go. But, as Danielle had predicted, he was a little busy. "My story?" he asked. "Why…do you want to know?"

"Michael," said Crowley with an exasperated sigh, "if we're gonna work together for…ever…we should at least try to get along. I don't even know who I've employed, really."

Michael frowned at Crowley's word choice—employed. He knew his situation for what it was. "I am a slave."

"Only if you don't co-operate," Crowley countered. "I don't want this to be an unpleasant experience for either of us."

"You have taken me from my family and forced me to work for a place whose morals go against the very fibre of my being. I hardly expect it to be pleasant."

Crowley hesitated, forced to admit that Michael was right. "Here. Have another drink," he offered. "It might make things a little more bearable." He refilled the angel's glass, but had scarcely put the bottle back on the mantle before Michael had finished it.

"Keep it on the desk," the angel said tonelessly. "It seems we are both going to get good use of it."

Crowley raised his eyebrows, but refrained from commenting. He simply put the bottle off to the side of the desk, between the two of them. "Help yourself, then," he offered. "The luxuries of Hell are yours."

"That does not apply to anything that could help me," Michael remarked, but there was no vehemence in his voice: only weariness.

"Of course not," the demon answered, finished his own drink and pouring another. "But you'd have a hard time finding anything like that down here."

Michael nodded. "Of course not," he repeated, staring moodily into his glass. He looked up with a resigned sigh. "Very well…what do you wish to know of me?" His eyes had to depth to them—they were dead, reflecting the light of Hell's fire that seemed cold encircled in those green irises.

"Everything," said Crowley, leaning back in his chair and spreading his hands wide. "Anything. I dunno. Start at the beginning."

"The beginning…" said Michael in a faraway voice. The glass sheen over his eyes softened as he recalled earlier times. "I was my Father's first," the angel recalled. "He created me just after the Earth had been spun, but at that time it was simply a featureless globe of marbled water and land. He needed someone to watch over it while He made the others: Lucifer was next. It was his idea to touch the Earth, instead of watch it. Canyons and lakes sprang up where he pressed on it, and in trying to fix them I overcompensated, making mountains and hills. But Father wasn't angry when He returned with out next brother, Raphael." A faint smile played over his lips at a time when things were simple and peaceful. He had been happy then, simply because he had not known what unhappiness was.

Though the story was fascinating, Crowley was watching Michael's expression: in order to know someone, and to break them, one had to get to know them. Crowley knew in that instant that Michael's weakness was his brothers, and his fatal flaw was loyalty.

Michael didn't seem to notice he was being scrutinized; he was lost in the past. "Raphael made the trees," the archangel recalled. "He was terribly clever, figuring out how to make things sprout from the Earth. Though, I think Father gave him a hint." Michael chuckled slightly, shaking his head fondly. "With Raphael busy tending to the plant life, Lucifer and I looked outwards, refining our arts by creating the stars. Each contains a bit of angel Grace, you know."

"I didn't," Crowley remarked, but Michael's statement had rhetorical.

"It was not long before Father created humans," Michael recollected. "He said the three of us had made Earth so beautiful that it was unfair to see it so empty. He placed humans on the Earth, what humans were at the time, and let the three of us create other beings. He left for a very long time after that, but before He departed He gave to us a final brother—Gabriel. For millions of years, the four of us were all we had." The angel sighed a bit, blinking back to reality for a moment.

As much as Crowley was loath to admit it, he was hung on Michael's every word, lips parted slightly as he listened in awe. He became self-aware and blinked out of it, taking a drink to soothe his nerves. "Go on," he said casually, hoping not to sound too eager.

"By the time Father returned, the humans had become nearly unrecognizable. They walked upright, covered themselves in the skins of other animals, and could communicate amongst themselves almost as angels could," Michael continued, completely oblivious to the demon's enrapt state. "But Father did not return alone; He brought with Him a host of angels, each with only a fraction of our power, and He gave them to us to teach. And when these angels knew all we did of the Earth and those it housed, Father called us all before Him. I remember it clearly: Raphael and Gabriel stood to the left of Father's Throne while Lucifer and I stood to the right. Father announced that He had grown fond of the humans over the years, and that they had matured enough to understand now: we were to go to them, to serve them, and to love them." Michael shook his head sadly. "Looking back on it now, I see that father was wrong: humans will never understand angels. I think Lucifer knew that even then. He became very angry, stepping around me to stand between Father and the Host." Michael felt a sadness he had not known in years as he described Lucifer's outrage. His brother had already been upset that their father had been away for so long, and then he felt as if he was being replaced.

"I tried to reason with him, but he was beyond reason," said Michael sadly. "And in the ensuing confusion, after Father forced me to cast Lucifer out…I had to take control." I sighed. "I was not always so rigid, you know. It is simply that when one is responsible for many…in order to ensure their safety—"

"You have to be harsh," Crowley supplied, finding his voice again. "You have to enforce the rules, no exceptions. Because if you make even one, someone starts feeling special."

"…Yes," said Michael in faint surprise. Not even his brothers had understood that. "How…?"

"Trust me, Love," Crowley said with a hint of sarcasm. "I know what it is to rule over a realm that is completely ignorant of your effort on their behalf."

Michael blinked at the demon. He took a drink to delay speaking while he thought of the proper words. "A ruler cannot please every subject," he began. "And so, it is best to keep the interests of the kingdom in mind."

"Even if it pleases nobody at all," Crowley agreed, raising his glass respectfully to Michael before draining it. He realized that he had stopped analysing Michael's weaknesses, perhaps because they were growing dangerously close to his own—aside from the family bit.

"Precisely," said Michael, mimicking the other's actions. He was vaguely disturbed that a demon, of all things, had managed to grasp the concept of his entire existence in ten minutes better than his brothers had in millennia. He eyed the bottle of scotch tentatively. Angels couldn't get drunk, not as easily as humans could, but this was strong stuff.

"Please," said Crowley indulgently. "You're the one who wanted it there in the first place. What's mine is yours," he joked, mainly to rub in the fact that Michael was stuck there.

The comment didn't seem to bother the angel, however. He simply reached forward to refill his glass, ignoring Crowley's green-gold gaze on him.

"What about the Apocalypse?" the demon asked suddenly.

"What about it?"

"Why did you think it was such a good idea?" Crowley had first come into contacts with the Winchesters while trying to stop Michael's kamikaze death duel with his brother.

Michael thought for a moment. "Humans were the cause of strife between my brother and me," he began slowly. "Perhaps I believed that the Apocalypse would make thinks right between us, once said humans were no longer an issue. I was seriously misguided."

"So you don't believe the Apocalypse would be a good thing now?" Crowley asked, pouring himself yet another drink.

"No."

"Good news for me," the demon chuckled.

"Oh." Michael looked up. "Yes, I…suppose it would have been detrimental for you."

Crowley scoffed. "Ya think?"

Michael finished his glass. "Crowley…" He hesitated. What was the worst that could happen if he asked? "I received a prayer from Danielle. It seems she is holding a celebration for Castiel's Ascendence."

"Is that so? And?" Crowley was going to make Michael outright ask, even though he had already made a decision.

"I was wondering…" Michael lifted his head proudly; he refused to be cowed. "I request attendance."

"Request granted," said Crowley flippantly, "so long as you're not going alone."

Michael hesitated: he felt it wouldn't be fair to invite Crowley, but he wanted to see his brother. "Fine."

"I'll be there in a moment. You had best get those wards down," Crowley told him, and Michael promptly disappeared. As far as he could tell, only a few minutes had passed on Earth since Danielle had finished the prayer.

"Danielle?" Michael said from mere feet behind her as she tried to hang streamers, which she dropped, startled.

"Michael! You made it!" She climbed down off the stepladder. "How did you convince Crowley?"

"You have to take down the demon wards," Michael said by way of answer, looking at her apologetically.

Danielle had a moment of panic. "Why?"

"Crowley expects to be here," Michael told her, "and I do not know what he will do if he is denied entry. I am sorry."

Dani nodded. "I-it's alright. Um…Lucifer is in the living room and Castiel said he'd be here soon. I don't know if Sam and Dean are coming." Danielle had never actually met her brothers, but she had told Castiel that they were more than welcome.

Michael attempted to hide his grimace. "Yes. Of course. Castiel is very close with the Winchesters."

Danielle nodded again. "You've met them, right?"

Michael pressed his lips together and inclined his head in a slight affirmative, but was fortunately spared answering by the arrival of Castiel, who showed up in the kitchen and walked out. "Hello, Danielle. Michael, you look well."

"Thank you," said Michael graciously. He glanced urgently at Danielle who jumped into action, taking down the demon wards. This seemed to concern Cas.

"What are you doing?" he asked, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head with a frown.

"I apologize, Castiel," said Michael softly. "Crowley will be here shortly."

Cas was silent for a moment, then his brow smoothed out. "There exist things much worse than Crowley." He strolled around the living room with his hands behind his back, examining the decorating Dani had done. "This is…very tasteful," he commented, though he had to idea about which decorations were tasteful.

Danielle, however, was extremely reassured by the compliment. "Thank you, Castiel. I'm glad you like it." She nodded and turned as Lucifer came downstairs, a scowl deep on her face which was residual from worrying over Gabriel.

"Castiel," she greeted. The last time they had met, it had not been on good terms, but she figured she had more important things to worry deal with now. "Happy majority."

"Thank you." Castiel inclined his head. "You switched vessels," he remarked.

"Yes, that was Crowley's fault," said Lucifer with distaste, "which, by extension, was Michael's fault."

Danielle filled Cas in on the details of Crowley and Michael's deal before either archangel present could present a biased version. Castiel listened intently, fixing Michael with a long look when Danielle had finished, and nodded once slowly. "I would have done much the same."

"What?" Lucifer hissed dangerously. Here she had thought that Castiel had learned about being stupid after all his mistakes, but clearly not.

"Michael did what he did to protect his family," explained Castiel, "to save you and Gabriel. That is admirable."

Michael gave Lucifer a superior look as Cas continued, "As I said, there are things worse than Crowley."

"Like me," said Lucifer. "When that bastard shows up here, I'm gonna smite him. No one screws with my family except me."

"Do not," Michael entreated immediately. "Crowley would order me to protect him and you know I can best you, brother."

"I don't," Lucifer shot back. "That was the whole point of the Apocalypse."

"Regardless," Michael supplied.

"Fine. First chance I get though."

"I think we should celebrate Castiel," said Dani, "since today is about him."

"I assure you that's—" Cas began.

"—an excellent plan!" came Crowley's voice from by the front door. "Happy birthday of a sort, Castiel. And hello all." The demon stepped towards the group, undaunted by the menacing look Lucifer was giving him.

"Party's over," she muttered.

"Nonsense," Crowley scolded. He produced a box from his jacket and handed it to Castiel.

"What is the meaning of this?" Michael asked, looking at Crowley in surprise and Cas in suspicion.

"Relax; we're not in kahoots," Crowley assured, rolling his eyes. "I just know it's very rude to arrive at a party unwanted, late, and empty-handed. So I settled for two of the three."

"How thoughtful," Lucifer grumbled.

"Thank you," said Cas, beginning to unwrap the box. He was stopped by Michael's gentle touch on his wrist.

"Be careful," the archangel warned. He didn't know if Crowley was bold enough to plant something dangerous against so many enemies at once. Castiel however, removed his wrist and proceeded. As he looked into the box, a soft glow illuminated his face—hues of blues and greens danced upon his complexion.

"What is it?" asked Danielle, standing on her toes to look over Cas' shoulder. Her eyes widened in wonder as the angel gently removed two glass spheres from the box. Peering inside, she could see small figures moving about on an ever-changing background."

"Sam and Dean have both been to Hell," said Crowley quietly, almost reverently. "And believe me, that place drains you of everything you hold dear. But—" Here he paused for dramatic effect— "I managed to find some of the Winchesters' happy thoughts floating around…I thought you might want them. I certainly don't. Give them back if you want, or keep them," he added flippantly, trying to pretend he had never cared about the boys.

Castiel looked at the demon in astonishment. "Th…thank you," he said, surprisingly touched by the gesture. He wasn't sure if Crowley was aware exactly how important this was to him. Tucking the globes inside his coat, he resolved to look at them later and return them to their owners after that.

"Don't mention it," said Crowley, who really didn't want the word getting out, lest it tarnish his reputation, which had just gotten repaired at the news of his latest deal.

A heavy silence fell, through which Lucifer appeared furious, Michael looked resigned, and Castiel seemed even more uncomfortable than usual. Eventually, Danielle spoke up with forced cheer. "Anyone want a drink?"

"Yes," came four relieved voices at once, which made Danielle start in surprise. She hurried off to the kitchen and returned with her arms full of bottles.

"I…didn't know what everyone wanted…" she began, but her sentence trailed off into a shout of surprise as one of the bottles appeared suddenly in Lucifer's hand.

"Don't care," said the angel, cracking the top. She took a long drink, welcoming the soothing burn.

Slightly taken aback, Danielle set the other bottles on the table top to avoid dropping them. The scotch immediately disappeared, claimed by Crowley. "Cheers," he said, taking a drink and then passing the bottle to Michael, whom he was standing beside.

"Danielle," Castiel turned to the hunter. "Did you invite your brothers?"

"Yes," said Danielle nervously. "But I'm afraid I wasn't terribly clear in my message…"

"If you've never met, how did you contact them?" Cas wondered. Humans didn't have an Angel Radio.

"Most hunters know how to reach them," said Dani, "but I got their numbers from a man named Bobby Singer. He seemed to know them well."

"Yes…" said Castiel with a fond smile at about the same time Crowley laughed.

"Back from Heaven, is he? I suppose death didn't suit him," the demon chuckled. "Good! I missed the clever old bastard."

"He doesn't like you," Castiel informed him.

"No one does," Crowley shot back with a wink.

Lucifer snorted. "Amen." Suddenly, she smiled. "Well, one of them got the memo. If it isn't little Sammy." She had felt the presence of his soul; all the angels had, but only Lucifer had spoken up.

Sam was currently approaching the door to the Hut. He had gotten Danielle's message and decided to check it out against Dean's advice. He was cautious, however—he knew this could be a trap. With an angel blade in one hand, Sam knocked with the other. He shifted from foot to foot, knees bent, as he heard someone come to the door.

Sam was surprised and immediately relieved when a petite blonde opened the door. "Mom?" he said in confusion, then shook his head. "No, sorry. You must be Danielle." He had dealt with stranger things than a long lost sister. "Glad it's not a trap," he chuckled, sheathing the blade.

"Um, hi," Danielle said in a small voice. Nervousness made her talk less where it made Sam talk more. "Yes, yes, I'm Danielle. Um…you're Sam, right?"

"Yeah." Sam held out his hand for her to shake, then peered around her. "So…Cas is here?"

"Oh, yes!" Danielle hastily let go of Sam's hand and stepped inside to let him pass. "He's inside."

Sam walked in and smiled at Cas. His gaze skipped Lucifer, not recognizing her vessel, and landed on Michael. "D-Dad?"

Michael hastily shook his head, but it was Crowley who stepped forward and spoke. "Michael, actually. But I think young John Winchester suits him well."

"What the Hell?" Sam exclaimed, subconsciously stepping closer to Castiel.

"Hullo to you too, Moose," Crowley huffed. "Long story, really. Maybe your good friend Luci can fill you in." He gestured to the woman behind Sam, causing him to turn around wide-eyed and terrified. Danielle immediately sensed that she had made a mistake on account of something she must have missed.

"Lucifer…" Sam whispered, already pale. Castiel stepped protectively in front of him, but Lucifer waved a hand.

"No need. You're not on my hit list this week, bunk buddy. It's all him." She gestured to Crowley.

"And that," said Crowley distastefully, "is our cue. Come on, Love." He grinned at Sam before disappearing with Michael.

The bulb of a currently unused lamp burst and Lucifer clenched her jaw. "I'm going to check on Gabriel," she stated, making it clear that she didn't want to be followed. Gabe had been moved to one of the bedrooms upstairs, which meant he would be less likely to be disturbed. Letting out a noise of frustration, Kucifer sank onto the edge of his bed.

"Well, Gabe," she said blandly. "The Wincheseters are involved. The bad ones. Also—" She rested a hand on his chest, over where his Grace resided— "I got some of your juice. Spell must've messed up. Leave it to Crowley." Contemplating for a moment, she added: "Maybe we can get Heaven to send down a healer. A Seraphim, even." The high-ranking healers could fix almost anyone. She stayed like that for a while, her eyes blank as she stared out the window.

Downstairs, Sam looked between Dani and Cas frantically. "Please tell me what's going on," he whispered.

"Have a seat, Sam," Cas said soothingly, knowing that usually helped humans.

"There's a lot to tell…" Danielle supplied.

Sam nodded resolutely, taking a shaky breath to compose himself as he sat on the couch. "Everything. Tell me everything."