"Do you know where we are, young prince?" the demon asked the next morning, leading Castiel into the kitchen- a small, sooty room with a large pot of something foul smelling sitting on the fire. "This house, did you recognize its location when we came in yesterday?"
"The shores of Earth," Castiel said immediately.
"Oh, the princeling is well educated," Alastair laughed, "Your royal tutors would be proud."
Castiel said nothing and the demon continued. "Earth can be a dangerous place for a demon. And an angel I should think. Hunters are prejudiced against anything not human, always trying to kill what they don't understand." Alastair sighed dramatically at the shortcomings of the humans.
"No mere human could destroy me," Castiel said bluntly, chin raising in easy dismissal of the thought.
Alastair raised an eyebrow and studied him silently, his inky gaze making Castiel feel tainted and dirty. "Perhaps," Alastair said finally, "perhaps not. There are ways after all, and humans can be so… tenacious sometimes. Traps laid in holy oil, swords taken from fallen comrades…poisons slipped into a harmless meal." Alastair gestured toward the steaming pot significantly. "Today while I am out, you will create for me an antidote - one that will cure all poisons - so that I may eat and drink what I wish without fear."
The demon stared at Castiel, waiting for something, so Castiel nodded. "Of course."
"Fail to complete the task before I return at dusk and you will have to test my food for me."
"I understand," Castiel answered.
"Do you?" Alastair asked, "In case you're thinking of failing on purpose I suggest you remember that there's more than one way to pluck an Angel, and humans aren't the only tenacious creatures around." The demon turned on his heel and left without waiting for an answer.
Despite Alastair's departing threat, Castiel was not overly concerned with his task. He had, in fact, had several very good tutors in his youth. Knowledge of healing and antidotes was required for all soldiers, and Castiel knew how to make an antidote guaranteed to cure all poisons. It was not an easy concoction to make, and it would take some time to gather the necessary ingredients in a strange land, but he felt the allotted time would be sufficient for his purposes.
Castiel started with the holy water, because that was the easiest to obtain. Venturing through a small door in the back of the room Castiel found himself standing in a small and surprisingly kempt garden, with the well he'd been seeking standing almost exactly in the center. There were flowers blooming all around and the area surrounding the house was thick with green trees. Castiel felt a rush of gratitude that he'd landed on Earth where this small beauty could exist instead of the desolation of Hell. As he drew a bucket up from the well, he felt almost at peace.
Once drawn, Castiel dipped a finger into the full bucket, and said a quick prayer, turning its contents instantly into Holy Water - the main ingredient in every remedy he knew. A quick glance around the garden revealed three more of the most common ingredients - devil's snare, barley, and mandrake root - all growing in wild, but separate beds around the well.
Castiel hauled everything inside and set the water on the fire to boil. He washed, chopped and measured out the plants before adding them to the Holy water. Next he searched the cupboards and set aside some honey and cinnamon to sweeten the concoction as well as a small sprig container of dried dandelion to be added later. Now came the hard part.
Castiel returned outside and surveyed the woods surrounding the cabin, searching for an indication of where to start. There was nothing in particular to recommend one section over another so he simply marched forward into the cool shade of the trees.
A white dove appeared almost as soon as he stepped out of the sun. Cas had no reason to think it was the same bird as before, but nevertheless he was certain that this was his friend. "Hello, little bird," he greeted. It cooed at him, and flew down onto his shoulder to peck at his hair before lifting off again.
"Feeling better today?" Castiel asked. The bird swooped low over his head and circled a tree a few times, cooing with enthusiasm. "Yes, you seem better," Castiel agreed. "I am glad of it. Today I have to concoct a potion to cure all poisons. Would you like to help?"
The bird settled down on a tree stump and watched him with what Castiel fancied was curiosity. "I've started the main portion of the cure already," he told the bird, "I need three more things to add before drinking. A stone from untainted water, the leaf from an uncut Iangelus nemus/I, and a token from a friend, freely given." Castiel frowned at his own recitation. "That last one will be difficult." He looked down at himself. "This coat was a gift from my brother, Lucifer, perhaps…"
The dove derailed Castiel's ponderings by fluttering his wings in agitation until Castiel looked at him. "Yes, little bird?" Castiel asked. In answer, the dove held his right wing out in Castiel's direction. Castiel frowned. "Is there something wrong with your wing?"
The dove's answering coo sounded suspiciously like irritation and the bird dug into his own wing with his beak, emerging a moment later with a single pure white feather. Castiel stared at the feather, not quite believing what he was seeing until the bird flew up and circled around Castiel, dropping the offering at his feet.
"Thank you, my friend," Castiel said gravely. He picked up the offered gift reverently, surprised to find his hands shaking, and placed it in his pocket. "I did not expect such generosity. I will repay this kindness if I can."
The bird cooed at him again, head ducking in a manner that would have spoke of embarrassment in an angel or human and flew off to the west. Castiel watched him go, strangely disappointed to have been abandoned by the bird, and then headed east. He'd gone but a few yards when the bird returned, cooing at him crossly. "Hello, again," Castiel said, joy making his voice warm, "have you come to keep me company?"
But almost immediately the dove flew off again to the west and Castiel was left alone to continue on his path to the east. This time he barely made it a few steps before the dove returned, cooing and flapping past his head frantically. Castiel stopped walking immediately. "You wish me to follow you," he said. The dove flew past close enough for his wings to ruffle Castiel's hair and headed west again and this time Castiel turned to follow.
As he walked, Castiel found himself again filling the time with stories of his brothers - of the open but distant affection of Michael, the apparent disinterest of Lucifer that was contradicted by the small tokens of affection he brought Castiel from time to time. "Now I see that both of my brothers were reacting to the fear and guilt they must have been carrying this whole time," Castiel mused. "It must have been very difficult for them." The dove squawked in outrage. "I know, little bird, but they are my brothers. I must love and forgive all their faults. Isn't that what brothers do?"
For some reason that seemed to calm the dove, and he flew over to Castiel's shoulder again and cooed quietly into his ear as Castiel talked. An hour and a half later found them standing at the mouth of a spring - pure untouched water gushing out of the depths of the earth.
"Thank you, again, little friend. I find myself more indebted to you by the hour," Castiel said to the bird as he carefully selected a stone from the stream. "Now there is one thing left. I don't suppose you've seen an Iangelus nemus/I around here?"
The dove cooed again, sounding confused to Castiel's ear. "They are quite common around my home," Castiel said, "they are usually found near springs..." he trailed off as he surveyed his surroundings. "There," he said, pointing to a short sapling with heart shaped leaves. He crossed to it and removed three leaves. "That's everything."
He looked around the forest carefully, assessing his location relative to the house by the sea, and started in that direction. When the dove didn't harass him immediately, he decided that he must have chosen correctly. Indeed, his feathered friend followed him all the way back to the cabin without incident and then followed him inside to perch on a chair back and watch as Castiel cut and chopped and mixed and boiled. "This recipe is very old," Castiel said to the bird, "it was taught to me by my tutor in demonic languages - a demon named Crowley."
The bird flew around the kitchen once in agitation before settling restlessly back on the chair. Castiel paused to stroke down the dove's back with the tip of one of his own wings. "Crowley is different," he assured his friend. "Not trustworthy, of course, but different. It is difficult to explain."
The bird still shifted uneasily on his perch and Castiel continued to stroke the dove with his wings as he spoke. An hour passed, and then two, as Castiel's story of Crowley led to the story of Crowley's first meeting with Castiel's cousin, Gabriel, then to their epic love triangle with the goddess Kali, and so forth until Castiel was surprised to find the sun hanging low in the sky and his potion nearly completed. He was known as the quiet one at home, and he marveled at how the silence around him loosened his tongue.
No sooner had the thought occurred to him, than the door to the tiny kitchen slammed open, the door hitting the wall with such violence that the dove was startled off its perch and into the rafters. Castiel straightened and turned to the door, putting himself between it and his feathered friend, wings spreading out automatically to shelter the bird. He expected hell hounds heralding Alastair's return at the very least. But it was only the wind.
Except there was no 'only' about the fierce wind that gushed into the tiny room, forcing Castiel to pull his wings in close or risk damaging them. The wind tore through the kitchen, scattering Castiel's leaves all about the floor and knocking a chair into the hearth with enough force to tip the potion onto the fire, destroying all of Castiel's hard work and dousing the flames.
Castiel surveyed the devastation with open dismay, wings drooping nearly to the floor. The dove glided down from the rafters to land once more on the chair. "Little bird," Castiel said gravely, "it looks like the end may be very near for me. I fear I have no way of recreating the potion in the time left to me. I don't suppose you have any ideas. Do you, little bird?"
"Actually," the bird said, "I really do."