As the years passed without the blessing (or curse) of a new sibling, the brothers' fear and guilt retreated to the back of their minds, pushed aside in favor of Luc and Ana's latest fight or the occasional uprising on the border with Hell.
Michael tried to bring up the subject of their deal just once with his brother - on the joyously dreadful Thursday their Father finally brought forth another child - a third brother as the demon had predicted.
"What will we do, Luc?" he whispered helplessly as their new baby brother was presented to them.
Luc looked at him blankly and for a moment Michael thought he wouldn't answer. But then a servant placed the fledgling in Michael's arms and Luc looked at his new brother with determination. "No demon can breach the gates of Heaven to take away what is ours, brother," he said with a calm that Michael didn't believe. "Castiel is safe with us."
Michael wasn't sure he believed that either, but he nodded and handed the baby over to Luc.
Castiel, like all of his siblings, was beautiful and unique. His dark hair was a few shades lighter than the black of his wings, feathers reflecting all the colors of creation when he flew. He grew up solemn and serious beyond his years, devoted to his brothers and their Father, but his blue eyes often shone with affection and curiosity. He was more beloved even than his elder brothers - by both their subjects and their Father. Even Ana, who preferred the company of her adopted human family returned often to visit with the newest addition of their flock.
For the first years of Castiel's fledging Michael jumped at shadows, fearing the demon's appearance around every corner. Lucifer showed his agitation in subtler ways, constantly seeking out Castiel and then ignoring the boy once he had his attention. But Castiel's only contact with demons came from his training as a solider and Crowley - the royal tutor in demonic language. And once again, the elder princes relaxed, daring to believe that they had avoided the consequences of their deal with a demon.
In fact, Castiel was fully grown even by angelic standards before his peaceful world was disrupted by an eerily familiar storm one night when their Father was away.
The rain fell in blinding sheets around the palace, pounding against the walls of their home with such ferocity that the brother princes could barely hear each other over its fury.
This made it even more surprising and disturbing when there came a calm and steady knock at the front door, clearly heard despite the fury of the storm. Michael and Lucifer looked to each other, suspicion and fear sharpening their instincts. But Castiel, unaware of the price paid for keeping his brothers alive, moved at once to help whatever stranger might have been seeking sanctuary from the storm.
"Castiel, no," Michael shouted after his younger brother, panic making his heart pound wildly in his chest, but it was too late. Castiel had already pulled open the door to reveal the demon who had once been their savior, his beautiful dough trough strapped to his back.
"Hello, young Prince Castiel," the demon greeted. "I have come to collect the debt owed me by your royal brothers."
Castiel frowned at the new arrival before glancing back at his brothers. "I was not aware that my brothers had dealings with a demon."
The demon smiled dangerously. "They have dealings with me," he assured Castiel.
Castiel looked to his brothers again, but neither of them seemed capable of simple speech, much less an explanation. "If my brothers do owe you a debt, I'm sure they are anxious to repay it."
The demon smiled widely. "That is good to hear, young prince, for the debt they owe me is you."
Castiel took a single step back but showed no other reaction to this news. "Me?"
"Yes, my boy, you." And the demon told the youngest prince the story of his brothers' foolish foray onto the ocean on that stormy night so many years before his birth.
"As you see, your brothers are in fact alive and well, and they did promise me you in return for their lives."
Castiel nodded slowly. "If you did in fact save my brothers, and they did promise me to you, then I will go with you." And he turned to his brothers for confirmation.
Lucifer refused to met his brother's eyes, staring stonily at the creature in the doorway with hatred turning his eyes nearly as black as the demons. Michael had gone pale and he was shaking his head, but the sadness and guilt in his eyes said more than his silence and Castiel turned back to the demon with another nod.
"Very well, I will honor my brother's promise," he said, and with barely time to bid his brothers farewell, the two set out on foot in the direction of the sea. After a day's travel, they reached the same ocean in which the elder Princes had once nearly lost their lives, and they climbed into the demon's dough trough.
The demon - 'you may call me Alastair' - sailed himself and his new acquisition over the sea to his home. Castiel was surprised to be on Earth and not in Hell, but he said nothing, grateful to be that much closer to home than he had expected. And away from the eternal torment of Hell, of course.
Castiel was herded quickly into Alastair's home before he had a chance to look at his surroundings properly. The house itself was quite large, though much smaller than the palace Castiel was used to, but the rooms were small and cramped, giving the structure a claustrophobic atmosphere. It was dark inside and the smell of fear and sulfur was as overwhelming as it had been during Castiel's one trip to the borders of Hell.
"Welcome to your new home, Princeling," Alastair said, "you are now my servant, and as such you will be expected to perform certain tasks for me. Complete them successfully and you'll be rewarded. Fail me and the punishment will be swift. Understood?" Alastair's smile never wavered as he spoke, and Castiel suspected that he might find it disturbing if he were not a warrior son of his Father.
Castiel nodded his understanding of the situation. He may have been raised a prince, but he had also been raised a warrior - hard work and sacrifice went with the territory. Castiel wasn't happy with this twist of fate, but he would make his family proud in any capacity in which he could still serve them.
Alastair smiled that disconcerting smile again and opened a door onto a narrow staircase that spiraled up and out of sight into what Castiel suspected was the tower he'd spied on the north side of the house. "Then get some rest, Princeling. Tomorrow will be a very busy day for you."
Standing at the base of the dark and dusty staircase, Castiel felt the despair and loneliness of being taken away from his home threaten to overwhelm him for the first time. He had never before been so cut off from his family. His brothers had their faults - not the least of which was selling their brother to save themselves - but they were still his family and he loved them very much.
Castiel climbed the stairs with his back straight and head held high, afraid to show any sign of weakness until he obtained the relative privacy of the tiny room at the top. Once there he took a moment - and a moment only - to grieve for the way his life had turned, and for the loss of his family. Then he pushed it all down and examined his new room.
It was furnished with a single bed, a large table, a small chest of drawers and a mirror. Small and cramped like the rest of the house, it had one major advantage over the lower floors, one for which Castiel was exceedingly grateful - four large windows offering an almost panoramic view. None of the windows were large enough for him to escape out of, of course, but Castiel had no thought of escape anyway. He wondered if Alastair had hoped to taunt him with the freedom of the skies, or if this was simply the only room available for hosting his… His what? Servant? Hostage? Plaything? Castiel shied away from that train of thought and turned away from the windows.
Castiel caught his reflection in the mirror as he turned. A forlorn little thing with droopy wings, wrapped in his older brother's too-big coat, stared back at him. Castiel straightened his spine and extended his wings as far as the cramped space would allow. "I am Castiel, angel of the Lord. This too shall be endured," he reminded himself sternly. His reflection gazed back at him solemnly for several moments, urging Castiel to believe his own words.
A fluttering in the window above his bed caught his eye, surprising a gasp from Castiel. He was sure for a moment that one of his elder brothers had come to rescue him. But it was a bird, a large white dove, that had landed on the window sill.
Castiel pushed aside terrible hope and bitter disappointment with a surprised bark of laughter, and addressed the bird's reflection in the mirror. "Hello, little bird, have you come to rescue me?"
The bird cocked his head to one side curiously, and flew in closer to perch on the dresser. Castiel turned away from the mirror to speak to his visitor directly. The bird was quite large for a dove, his white feathers dirty and askew as if he'd flown through a small storm to arrive at Castiel's prison.
"You look like you've had a rough day," Castiel observed. The bird fluttered his wings in exactly the way Michael did when he was disgruntled. The gesture was so familiar that it made Castiel's Grace ache, and he found himself wishing to help the bird. "I'm afraid I don't have much to offer." Castiel looked around his little room and spied the pitcher of water and basin on the dresser next to the bird's perch. "Would you like a drink?" he offered, "Or I could groom you?"
The bird hopped back a few inches when Castiel approached, and Castiel stopped to gesture to his own wings. "I have lots of experience, as you can see. I will be very gentle."
The bird and the angel contemplated each other for a few moments, and Castiel had the ridiculous thought that the bird was judging him. Even stranger, Castiel hoped he'd be found worthy. After a long moment, the bird hopped forward again and extended one wing in Castiel's direction.
It was Castiel's turn to tip his head inquisitively in the bird's direction. "What a remarkable bird you are," he commented mildly, stepping forward to collect the pitcher and basin before settling on his bed. Having decided to trust Castiel earlier, it now showed no hesitation in flying across the small space to land on Castiel's knee.
Castiel set the pitcher and basin on the floor near his feet and began with his hands. The bird held still under his ministrations, but with his fingers buried in sleek white wings, Castiel couldn't help but notice the minute trembling of the bird. He began to speak in a low soothing voice to distract the bird from what his hands were doing.
"Did you run into a storm, little bird? I have found myself caught out in bad weather more times than I can remember. Especially when I was just a fledgling. It happens less frequently now that I'm older, but I admit I'm not always as observant of the sky as I should be. A family trait, apparently, as that is partially how I came to be here."
The trembling had subsided, and the bird's head turned halfway toward Castiel in a manner that Castiel chose to interpret as interest.
"Shall I tell you my story, little bird?" Castiel asked. Then he frowned, hands stilling on the dove's right wing. "Perhaps I should call you something else? Would you like a name?"
The bird didn't answer, of course, but turned in place to face Castiel fully. "Let's see…Gabriel?" he ventured, trying the name of a favorite cousin.
The bird cooed violently.
"No, not Gabriel. Joseph?"
The bird fluttered his already disarrayed wings.
Castiel shook his head. "No, then. John?"
This time the dove cooed and ruffled his wings.
Castiel smiled, amused despite himself. "I believe we will stick to little bird for now."
The dove cooed once softly and then extended it's right wing - the one Castiel had been working on before the naming debacle. Castiel felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. "A remarkable bird indeed," he said reaching for the offered wing again.
"Well, my remarkable friend, I believe I was going to tell you my story," Castiel commented. "It begins before my birth, with my elder brothers - Michael and Lucifer..." Castiel found himself telling the entire story to the dove as he groomed, repeating the tale Alastair had regaled him with so recently. The telling of it relieved something inside of him, as if the story were a weight that he'd been dragging around all day and the telling of it made him lighter for it.
By the end of his tale, the dove's wings were clean and dry and Castiel found that he'd been simply stroking them for quite sometime. "...and here I am now, talking to a remarkable bird," he finished, reluctantly drawing his hand away from the dove's feathers. "Thank you for listening, little bird, and thank you for allowing me to help you."
The bird cooed at him and pecked at his hands in a friendly fashion before flying back to the windowsill. He paused there briefly, turning back to look at Castiel once more before flying away.
Castiel stood to stare out the empty window. "Goodnight, little bird," he said into the night, and turned to prepare for bed.