Castiel had a hard time finding sleep. He was used to the noise of the castle in Araboth, used to servants or guards roaming the halls at night and small creatures moving through the darkness. The silence was unnerving, and the excitement of finding Meg still ran through his body. He wanted to reach out and touch her again, if only to prove that she was really there and it wasn't some dream.

He turned his back to her and scooted as far away as he could, until he was practically sleeping on the hard, dirt floor of their space. He would've liked nothing better than to take her in his arms and press their bodies together, to keep her safe throughout the night, but it would be improper of him, since they were not yet married, so he kept his distance to ease the temptation.

Hearing Meg sigh loudly, he turned around and saw her glaring at him. His movements had pulled most of the cloak off of Meg's body, leaving her shivering. "Sorry."

"Jo and I would huddle for warmth in these things, when we found one that didn't have blankets. It's not improper. I'm sure you and your siblings piled on each other like kittens, too, when you slept in the same bed."

"Siblings are different. So are two women. Many women share beds with their friends to keep warm, and to keep each other company," he said patiently.

"And a lot of women share a bed for the same reason that a man and woman share a bed," she pointed out. "You're acting like you've never spent the night in bed with a woman you aren't related to."

"I haven't," he snapped. Meg's eyes widened and she sat up on the bedroll.

"Surely you have. Even if you haven't spent all night with them."

He stiffened. "I was promised to you."

"There are brothels in your country. I know there are. Even if you didn't visit one of them, you're a good looking guy. You must've had a sweetheart, some kitchenmaid or another noblewoman."

He shook his head. "I did not want to dishonor you."

"Do you think I dishonored you, when I slept with Benny?"

He shook his head again. "It is different, in your country. Women have more freedom in Ennom than they do in Araboth. But I wanted you to be the only woman I ever touched."

"Wait, so you're saying that you never?"

Castiel felt his face redden, and was thankful that the torches did not provide enough light for Meg to see him blush. "Never."

"Take off your pants."

"What?"

Meg scooted closer. "You heard me. Take off your pants."

"Meg, what are you talking about? We have to wait until we get out of here and we've married!"

"Didn't you hear me? Crowley's spell requires the blood of a virgin noble," she reminded him. "Well, guess what wandered into his forest, completely unaware of that?"

"Oh."

She snorted. "Yeah. So, off with the pants, unless you want Crowley to drain you dry and kill everyone we know."

Heart beating fast in his chest, Castiel swallowed hard. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and looked around the small space. "This isn't how it's supposed to go."

Meg's expression softened. Reaching out, she lightly stroked his cheek. "I know."

"There's supposed to be a nice, soft bed, with flower petals on it, and singers outside the door, with musicians playing their harps and lutes."

"I know," she repeated.

"What if I get you with child?"

Meg shrugged. "We'll burn that bridge when we come to it. Besides, we're engaged, remember? Unless you plan on calling it off when we get out of here."

"I wasn't planning on doing that. I still want to marry you."

"Well, there you go. We'll still be married. Besides, my father was expecting it to happen."

"What?"

Meg laughed. "He thought I would run off and get myself pregnant so I could fast-forward to our wedding before I came of age. My mother was pregnant when they married, you know."

"I didn't."

"Yeah. She wasn't showing yet. It's one of those secrets that everyone knows, but never really talks about. A lot of brides are knocked up or already have children when they get hitched. It's mostly peasant women, since they have more freedom to run around. No escorts going with them on their outings." Meg smiled. "Come here. Lay down."

He obeyed her. Meg scooted over until they were lying nose to nose and gently traced his lips with her thumb before she kissed him. It was gentle at first, innocent, the two of them moving their lips against each other like they had when they were children and had exchanged chaste kisses in the garden. Her lips were warm on his, and when he slipped a hand around her waist to stroke her back, he found that her flesh was warm as well. The small feathers on her gown ruffled as he ran his hand over the fabric, making them stand on end and giving her the appearance of an angry bird.

She changed their kisses from sweet and easy, becoming more aggressive as she pressed her lips harder against his and reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair. Her fingers worked at the leather thong keeping it tied back until she freed his tresses and combed her fingers through them. He groaned against her mouth and pressed closer to her.

"Pull my hair," she breathed. "Just a little bit. Then kiss my neck and bite, a little."

"Won't that hurt?"

She smirked at him. "That's the point."

He obeyed her, and was rewarded by another breathy moan when he nipped his way from her jaw to where her neck and shoulder joined. The feathered shoulders of her gown prevented him from moving further, so he retraced his path and sealed his lips over hers again.

"I want to see all of you," he murmured.

"When we get out of here," she promised. "You can rip my wedding dress off me if you want. Besides, the torchlight, the fact that we're all alone in the middle of the woods, that's romantic, isn't it?"

"If you forget the two hundred year old witch who wants to kill us, and the glowing trees, and the screaming."

"Then forget them," she suggested. "Focus on me." She surged forward to kiss him again, cutting off anything else that he could say. He kissed her back, settling his hands on her hips when she rolled them over so he was on his back under her. Meg kissed her way down his neck and tugged at his tunic until it was bunched up around his chest and she could nibble at his stomach. She licked his hipbones, making him shudder when she gripped one with her teeth and bit hard.

He tried to touch her back, running his hands along her neck and the bit of her back that her dress exposed, but Meg slithered up his body and grabbed his hands, forcing them above his head and holding them there.

"Later," she promised as she lowered her head to his neck again.

Breaking her grip, he grabbed her around the waist and flipped them over. Meg laughed as her hair fanned out behind her on the bedroll. He smiled down at her. "Not later. Now."

Her laugh changed into a moan as he bunched the skirt of her gown around her waist and slid his hands down her legs to stroke her inner thighs. She bucked against his hands when he reached between them and gently stroked her.

"I thought you'd never been with a woman," she teased.

He smiled. "I grew up with older brothers that liked to give well-intentioned advice. Now shush."

For once she listened to him, closing her eyes and throwing her head back when he slipped his fingers inside of her. She was wet and warm and willing, hips moving to grind herself against his fingers when he moved too slow for her liking. He watched her face while he moved his fingers in and out of her, watched her eyes shut tight and her mouth open in a perfect o when he hit a sweet spot. The torchlight played over her face, highlighting her cheekbones and making her hair appear darker than it was. Using his other hand to brush her hair out of her face, he ran his thumb along her cheek and down to the corner of her mouth.

He kept moving until Meg stiffened and let out a long, breathy moan of contentment before she relaxed again. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. In the firelight, they looked almost black. "Come here."

He crawled up her body and pulled her into another kiss, slotting his hips between her spread thighs, and rutted himself against her. His cock stiffened in his trousers, pushing against the lose material, and he felt Meg's hips jump under his in response. Her hands wandered over his neck and back as they kissed before moving lower to tug at his pants, pushing them and his leggings down over the curve of his ass.

Panting, he broke their kiss long enough to help her wriggle the garments down to his knees before she pulled him back down on top of her, reaching down to help guide him. He kept his lips sealed over hers as he rolled his hips forward, groaning against her mouth when he felt her warm, wet heat envelop him.

He broke their kiss. "Are you alright?"

Meg refused to answer. Instead, she wrapped her legs around his waist and rolled them again so she was on top of him. The feathered skirt of her gown spread out around their legs, hiding their joined bodies from his view. He tried to roll them over again, but Meg simply raised her hips and sunk back down on his cock, arms braced on his chest and head thrown back so her long, dark hair rippled around her face. He gave up on getting her under him and sat up instead, pulling her into a kiss and wrapping his arms around her back. Meg broke the kiss with a moan of pleasure and Castiel lowered his head to her neck, sinking his teeth into the fragile skin there as he spilled himself inside of her.

Panting, Meg gave him a light push. He landed against the bedroll with a slight thump and didn't move as Meg rolled off of him and settled on her side, chest heaving. After a few moments, she smiled and poked him in the chest.

"Well," she said, "that's done."

"I don't know how you came out like this when your father is such a romantic," Castiel breathed.

"I really don't think it's appropriate to talk about my father right now."

"No, you're probably right." Castiel sighed and reached to right his clothing, rolling his leggings and trousers back up to secure them. Meg made a small noise of contentment next to him and scooted closer. Throwing one arm around his waist, she settled her head on his shoulder and rubbed her cheek against it. Their hair mingled together.

Reaching out, he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I love you."

"You're not so bad yourself," she said. "But now you're safe."

"From my blood being used in a spell to free a two hundred year old witch from this place so he can terrorize the world, at least."

She wrinkled her nose. "Well, we can't get married if you're dead, now can we? And if we don't ever find a way out of here, at least we got to have sex."

"I'm sorry it was so quick."

Meg snorted. "Well, just wait until we get back home. Practice makes perfect. On our wedding night I'm gonna ride you like a pony. And we'll have real ropes and chains to play with."

Uncomfortable, Castiel changed the subject. "We'll think about that another time. What was it like, being able to fly?"

"That part was pretty cool," Meg admitted, moving away from him to prop herself up on her elbow. "It really was a fly-or-die situation, though. Even if I'd hit the hay like Jo did, that body's so small that I probably would've been splattered everywhere. Not having hands is weird, too. But flying? It's pretty amazing. I wish I could've done it somewhere else. I can't imagine what being able to soar over an open field or farmland would be like."

"You knew what was going on the whole time?"

"Yeah, I was smarter than the average crow."

"Why didn't you try to tell me?"

She snorted. "What was I supposed to do? Use my beak to write a note in the dirt? You saw what happened. It erases footprints. Hell, with Skulltree, I tried to dig under the skulls to move them, so I could get to my protection amulet, but the ground kept plumping back up when I tried."

"How did it even get there?"

Meg shrugged. "My guess? Crowley. He screamed when it touched him, and putting it on broke his spell on me, at least temporarily. If I take it off again, I'll turn back into a bird. Hopefully Ruby or someone in her coven will be able to fix it. But he probably wanted to get rid of it, so he hung it up there. Maybe to taunt me. Who knows, really? I don't. It could've just been this place."

"I told you that I marked the way I came. We can use it to get back out."

"Do you really think that the forest is going to let us out?" she asked. "I've been here for ages, Cas, and I've seen paths change."

"You led me to Skulltree."

"I got lucky that day. It's been in the same place for a while now. But didn't you notice the path closing up behind you?"

"I can cut through it."

"Unless it changes on you."

"Then what do you suggest we do? Stay here and wait to die?" he snapped.

"No. I'm saying that we pick a direction and walk in a straight line until we find our way out," she snapped back. "That sword I had made for our wedding can cut through spells. If we walk in a straight line, we should eventually find the path out."

Castiel's anger melted away. "That is actually a good idea."

"Thanks. Now, I really think we should try to get some sleep. We'll start tomorrow. Just pick a direction and walk."

"Alright," he agreed. Tucking his cloak around both of them, he reached out and pulled Meg close so she could pillow her head on his shoulder. She sighed softly and closed her eyes, but he stayed awake until her breathing evened out and he was sure she was asleep.

.

Castiel wasn't sure how long he slept; only that it was the first peaceful sleep he'd gotten in ages. His whole body felt heavy, and pleasantly sore from the walking he'd done the day before, and he himself felt perfectly content with the quiet around him.

"Hey," Meg mumbled softly. "You're awake."

He made a small noise to acknowledge that he'd heard her and reached out to brush her hair away from her face. Hers was a few shades darker than his own, but in the torchlight he couldn't tell. She shook him off and sat up to finger-comb it, trying to straighten the mess it had become. It didn't help.

"You hair looks like a bird's nest," he told her. She made a face and smacked him.

"Yours doesn't look much better. Your beard is starting to come back in, too."

He rubbed his jaw. "Well, no shaving until we make it home. How long do you think it'll take?"

Meg shrugged. "Dunno. We'll see, I guess." She stretched, then leaned over and pecked him on the cheek before standing up and straightening her skirt. "Breakfast?"

"I've got two apples left, and some jerky."

"Better than nothing. C'mon. We'll eat on the way."

He helped her straighten the small place, putting away the bedrolls and putting out the torches. Once it was dark again, he felt his way over to the wall just as Meg slammed her palm down on the wall of brambles, opening it up once again for them.

Blinking, they stepped out into the dark forest. The trees still glowed, but the light was dimmer now, more watery, and he could see light beginning to filter through the trees. Drawing his sword, he stood guard as Meg sealed the safe space up behind them again, sticking her finger in her mouth when she was done. When she withdrew the digit, he noticed that the cut was gone.

"Healing magic?" he guessed.

Meg nodded. "Ruby taught me some. Nothing that could be considered Craft, since I'm not allowed to learn that, but enough for me to be able to take care of little things myself. We were always getting scraped up until I came of age and my father decided that I was too old for silly games."

"That's useful." Castiel glanced back and forth along the path. It was narrow, and overgrown with glowing weeds, and both ends looked identical. "Which way to go?"

"You got a coin?"

He dug through his pockets until he came up with a penny. "Heads we go left, tails we go right?"

"Better than nothing. Flip it."

He did, tossing it in the air and catching it in his hand. Meg leaned over his palm, a frown on her face. "Left it is, then. Since you have the sword, you can go in front."

"If we get attacked by something?" he asked, tucking the penny back into his pocket.

"Try not to get eaten," Meg suggested. "Once you've done that, stab what's attacking you."

"If they attack you?"

"Try to catch the amulet when I rip it off and throw it at you, because I'll fly away."

He frowned, and tried to respond, but Meg gave him a slight push. Grumbling, he began to walk down the path, keeping a grip on his sword. After a few minutes, the path doubled in size, simply expanding while he blinked, and became wide enough for he and Meg to walk side-by-side.

"That's considerate of it," he said.

Meg bumped his shoulder with hers. "The trees are kind of pretty, though. Hey, do you remember that one time we snuck up to the roof to watch the stars?"

He gradually relaxed. She'd been seventeen then, a year away from officially accepting or rejecting her father's plans for her to wed. He'd been studying stars back home, and had visited her country to talk to a man who had successfully built a telescope. Azazel had insisted that he come for a visit once he'd heard, and Meg, having gotten information from her father about why he was there, had snuck them up onto the roof that night. They'd spent hours up there, naming constellations, while Castiel told her all he'd learned.

"I remember. Your father thought we were going to fall off and kill ourselves when he found us up there the next morning."

"Dad always worried needlessly. We never actually hurt ourselves. Not seriously, anyway."

"Except for all those times Tom and I beat each other senseless," he grumbled.

"Well, that's different. You two were training, and it wasn't serious. Nothing that couldn't be fixed with a few bandages and stitches."

"Mostly I was trying to show off in front of you."

Meg laughed. "Really? I didn't know you put so much stock in my opinion."

"I was young and stupid and wanted to impress the girl I liked."

"When Ruby wanted to impress Benny, she baked him a pie. I would've been fine with a pie."

"Well, I'll remember that next time I'm trying to impress you."

She bumped his shoulder again. "You never got hurt that bad."

"Except for that time that you and Ruby attacked me with sticks."

"We were playing. Besides, you knew the rules for Castle Siege were pretty much anything goes."

Just hearing the name made Castiel shudder. Castle Siege had been Ruby, Tom, and Meg's favorite game as a child, and he'd been forced into participating more than once, along with many of the servant's children. It was a game based of some historical battle, where the king and his knights, armed with nothing but their bows, boiling oil, and their swords, had defeated an invading army. Usually, two or three children were picked to be the king and his knights, and whoever was left was forced to play the invaders. The kids playing the good guys would stand on top of a small hill or a pile of wooden boxes, armed with sticks, leaves, and sometimes rocks, while everyone else would rush them. The game ended either when the king and his knights were knocked off their perch, or the invaders gave up.

Azazel had attempted to ban the game at least five times during Castiel's childhood, usually due to bloody noses and sprained fingers, but the children had simply ignored him. Castiel usually came away with a few welts and scrapes, until Meg and Ruby, having gotten sick of losing, had viciously attacked he and Tom with sticks that were longer and thicker than the ones normally used for the game. Tom had come away with a broken finger and Castiel with a broken nose.

Castiel's father, far from being horrified, had given him a lecture on playing rough with women. Azazel had apologized profusely, but Chuck had shrugged it off, saying that children were naturally a little rough around the edges. Afterward, Meg and Ruby were banned from being kings and knights.

"We weren't that bad," Meg said, breaking him out of his memories. "At least we had fun."

"Must I bring up the time you hung me upside down and pelted me with tomatoes again?"

"That was fun for us. Besides, you guys tortured me."

"I never did anything like that."

"I distinctly remember being forced to sit through hours and hours of knitting and doing needlework."

"You're good at needlework and knitting, though," Castiel defended. In fact, he'd kept several items that Meg had made for him over the years, mostly scarves and hats that she'd grumpily knitted while he and his brothers were training with swords and bows and lances.

"Doesn't mean it wasn't torture to have to do it."

"Staying with us in Araboth wasn't all that bad. We had fun. Remember when we snuck out to practice archery? Or those times that we snitched cakes from the kitchens?"

"Those were pretty fun, yeah." Jerking to a halt, Meg grabbed Castiel's arm. "Shit."

"What?"

"Look at the trees."

Confused, Castiel did, and felt his heart jump when he saw the marks that he had made the day before decorating the trunks of the trees nearest to them. "This isn't right."

"I told you things move," Meg grumbled. "It hasn't gotten any lighter, either. The sun doesn't take this long to come up."

Castiel took a closer look at the trees. Sure enough, the leaves were still glowing faintly, and the sunlight peeking through the canopy was watery and weak. "So, do we turn around?"

Meg shook her head. "I don't think so. This could be the woods trying to trick us."

"Do you think the trees are sentient, or the woods as a whole?"

"Dunno. I just think that there's a lot of magic here, and the forest must've soaked a lot of it up. Or Crowley controls everything, and he's just fucking with us. Who knows? But at this point, either the woods is trying to trick us into thinking we're near the entrance and they're leading us somewhere else, or they're trying to trick us into thinking that they're fucking with us so they can turn us around so they can lead us into something bad. Either way, I say that we stick with the original plan and keep going in this direction. It's better than walking in circles."

"Okay. But stay close."

"Keep an eye out for any weird shadows," Meg advised.

They walked for what felt like hours, sharing an apple between them, but the sun rose no higher in the sky. Neither did it seem to sink again. Every once in a while a growl would echo from somewhere in the forest, causing the both of them to freeze in panic. But the sounds never moved any closer, and for the moment Castiel was convinced that they were safe.

Eventually, the path narrowed again. "I think there's an opening ahead. The way out, maybe?"

Meg shook her head. "There's no way it could be that easy."

"Well, let's see." Holding his hand out, he wiggled his fingers. "Just in case?"

"If you wanted to hold my hand, you just had to ask," she teased, gripping his hand anyway. Castiel fought the urge to roll his eyes and led her forward.

They stepped into a clearing with a large, bare tree stretching toward the dawn sky. A ring of grinning skulls surrounded it.

"Oh, no," Castiel groaned. He heard Meg swallow loudly behind him.

"Yeah, shit," she whispered. Moving next to him, she raised her other hand to act as a visor and squinted. "Wait, there's something on the tree. Let's get closer."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Probably not. But we gotta go past it to keep going in a straight line, anyway. I'd rather get close to the creepy tree surrounded by skulls than chance the shadows at the edge of the woods."

"I see your point. Just stick close."

Meg shot him a sour look, but obeyed him, squeezing his hand as they cautiously walked toward the tree. As they got closer, Castiel noticed that the shimmering wall that signaled that the tree was surrounded by magic was there, visible even in the weak sunlight.

"Well, that's not good," Meg commented when they got close enough to stand in front of it. Castiel felt his knees tremble, but forced himself to stay upright as his fiancée gazed up at the body hanging from the branches. The corpse's arms were stretched high above its head, leather wrapped around its wrists to keep it hanging from the tree. It was headless, with the sun-kissed flesh around the stump of the neck curling slightly inward. The corpse's black tunic was torn in the middle, exposing a gaping hole that was devoid of innards. One leg was missing, the fabric around the stump shredded. A faint breeze stirred the clearing, sending the body swaying back and forth. There were no flies on the body, the spell around the tree having blocked anything from going near it.

"Tammy," Meg breathed.

"How can you tell?" Castiel asked, unable to tear himself away from the pinkish hole in the corpse's belly.

"She was the only one who got her innards torn out, and she's missing a leg," Meg explained. She pointed at the tree, and Castiel followed her finger to see a small stag sewn on the breast of the corpse's tunic. "She made that herself."

"It could be a trick," Castiel suggested. Meg shook her head.

"No," she told him, "it's a warning. Crowley knows we're here. Let's keep moving."

"You don't want me to cut her down?"

Meg shook her head. "And do what with her body? We don't have anything to bury her or burn her with, and we can't take her with us."

"We can't just leave her there," Castiel said firmly, raising his sword. "It's disrespectful."

"Do you really wanna break the spell around that tree again? We don't know what it'll trigger. Crowley could be playing on our human sympathies."

He lowered his sword again. "I think you're overthinking this. He may just be trying to scare us."

"Well, it worked," Meg snapped. "We need to keep moving. We shouldn't be dallying."

"It'll only take a second," Castiel promised. He raised his sword again and brought it down on one of the skulls around the tree. The air shrieked for a second, the magic around the tree crackling before a high-pitched whistle emitted from the remaining skulls. Meg fell to her knees behind him, hands thrown over her ears, and Castiel followed her.

Then, out of nowhere, the shadows came.

Everything around him seemed to be moving in slow-motion; the shadows, the trees, the corpse, Meg. She lunged for him, grabbing his hand and tugging at his arm to force him to move, her mouth opening and closing without sound as his ears buzzed. The shadows advanced slowly, looking like nothing more than flat, shapeless blobs that glided over the grass.

Stumbling to his feet, he gripped his sword and followed Meg into the trees, the corpse forgotten. In an instant his hearing returned, and the cold, terrible sound of howling broke the silence.

"Run!" Meg screeched at him. "Cas, keep running!"

He tried to keep up with her, stumbling on the uneven path as they crashed through the trees, Meg flinging aside branches and zig-zagging through the undergrowth. The howls grew closer, and he saw a black blur out of the corner of his eye. Meg saw it, too, and swerved away from the shadow, tugging him deeper into the forest.

But it was useless. She skidded to a halt as one of the shadows darted in front of them. He turned around to run the other way when more of them materialized, surrounding them. The shadows grew, slowly taking form until they resembled large, skinny dogs with glowing red eyes and sharp, black teeth. The one in front of them let out a vicious growl, opening its mouth so its long, grey tongue poked out from between its teeth. Black slime fell from its mouth like drool, hissing when it hit the forest floor. The shadow dogs began to circle them. They made no sound, but the plants withered and died under their paws when they touched them, leaving behind a greyish slime.

"Clarence, your sword," Meg whispered.

"Are you going to fly?" he asked her.

"I'm gonna try not to. Listen, we'll break behind us and climb the tree, and see what to do from there. I think I can take out all of them now that I've recharged a little."

"How?"

"Fight magic with magic, right?" Meg's lips twitched in the beginning of a smile.

The dogs charged.

Castiel swung the sword, screeching. He expected the sword to cut through the dog's bodies as easily as if he was moving a sword through water, but they felt solid when the steel hit them. The shadow creatures even whined and whimpered like real dogs, yelping when his sword sunk into their bodies. Their blood bubbled up under his steel, black and foul-smelling. When one died, its body simply melted away.

He spun in a circle, slashing and stabbing, trying to hit each one as it flew at them. But more and more kept materializing from the forest, circling outside of his current attackers, waiting to take its place when he killed it.

"Meg, there's too many!" he shouted, narrowly avoiding one of the creatures when it lunged at him. Its teeth snapped together inches from his arm without a sound.

"Keep backing up!" Meg called. "Just keep moving backward until you hit the tree! Then climb!"

He obeyed her, sheathing his sword and turning to scramble up the tree behind them as soon as his back hit the bark. The shadow dogs rushed forward and began snapping at his legs. He kicked out wildly, cursing when his shoes went through their forms without harming them, and tried to haul himself up onto the branch where Meg was perched. Her eyes were wide and wild, darting from side to side as she clung to the wood.

Screaming when he felt one of the dogs sink its teeth into his foot, Castiel nearly lost his grip. Meg leapt forward and grabbed his hand, nearly falling herself as the creature dangled from Castiel's leg. All around them the pack began howling, leaping up to try to join their brother in dragging Castiel to the ground.

Grunting with effort, Castiel kicked wildly as Meg tried to haul him up, sweaty fingers slipping against his skin. He gave a sharp kick, shook the beast off, heard it yelp as it hit the ground, and suddenly he was free. Climbing up beside Meg, he threw himself into her arms and pressed the two of them against the tree trunk, panting.

The pack circled below them, eerily silent, their red eyes fixed on their prey.

"Get behind me," Meg rasped.

Scrambling to obey her, Castiel hauled himself up onto a higher branch as Meg carefully maneuvered herself forward, balancing on her heels with her arms stretched out toward the ground.

"Fire, fire, straight from Hell, come to me and serve me well," she panted, growling in frustration when nothing happened. The dogs seemed to smile at her, their dark jowls stretching wider to show off their teeth, and began rushing at the tree. They threw themselves against it, shaking the branches, but Meg didn't waver. "Fire, fire, straight from Hell, come to me and serve me well," she repeated. Castiel clung to his branch as it shook, sending waxy leaves spiraling toward the forest floor.

"Meg, what are you doing?" he yelled as she leaned dangerously to the side with the tree's motions. "Meg, get closer to the trunk!"

She ignored him, stretched her arms out as far as they could go, and yelled, "Fire, fire, straight from Hell, come to me and serve me well!"

Blue fire blazed from her palms, flowing toward the forest floor. Gaping, Castiel squeezed his eyes shut against the blinding light, hearing yelps and unnatural screeches as the fire caught the shadow dogs. The putrid smell of rotten meat burning came to his nose.

He kept his eyes squeezed shut until he felt a hand on his shoulder. "They're gone."

Opening his eyes, he turned and looked at Meg. She was shaking, and looked as if all the blood had drained out of her body. "How did you do that?"

"Ruby taught me," she told him. "Last year. In case I ever needed it. I really hoped I'd never need it."

"I'm glad she taught you."

Meg glared at him. "I told you cutting into those spells was a bad idea."

"How was I supposed to know this was about to happen?" he snapped.

Meg snarled at him, her snarl turning into a yelp when the tree shook. Falling backward, she landed on the branch below them with a heavy thump, managing to hook her legs around it just in time as she continued to topple. Castiel scrambled to grab her, yelping when another tremor shook the forest and he fell, too.

Meg grabbed his hand as he shot past her, face straining with the effort and arms trembling. He tried to claw his way upward, but the excitement of the chase was fading, and his foot throbbed with pain.

"Don't let go," Meg ground out. "Don't look at the ground, and don't let go."

Unable to obey her, Castiel looked at the ground and screamed. There were deep, dark pits where the bodies of the shadow dogs had dissolved, opening great holes in the scorched earth that were already filling up with plant life. The undergrowth seemed to expand like a river, flowing upward every time he blinked. The leaves glowed and rustled as they grew.

Screaming, Castiel tried to haul himself upward, hampered by his heavy pack.

"Just drop it," Meg screeched, still dangling upside down from the branch. "Just get rid of it!"

He tried, moving one hand away from Meg's to shrug the pack's strap off his shoulder. His sweaty hand slipped in hers as the greenery crept closer. Meg's hair swung into his eyes as he readjusted his grip and tried to push himself up, feet scrambling for purchase as the vines and thorns brushed against his foot.

One of the vines shot out and wrapped around the ankle of his injured foot, the spines on it biting through his pants and leggings to sink deep into his flesh. Screeching, he gripped Meg's hands harder and pulled to drag himself upward. Another vine crept up his leg to join the first, digging into his tender skin and pulling back.

"Don't let go," Meg gasped when his hands began to slip from hers. "Cas, don't let go."

He tried to hold onto her, but their hands were slippery with sweat and the vines were too strong. His left hand slipped first, causing his pack to plummet down into the sea of greenery rising up below them. Meg gripped his right hand with both of hers and gave his hand a last, futile tug before it slipped through hers as well.

He heard her scream and caught a glimpse of her wide, terrified eyes before he plunged downward into the undergrowth and growing green leaves filled his vision. For a moment or two it seemed like he was falling through something soft, as if he'd thrown himself down onto his featherbed at home, before his head smacked against something hard and his vision swam around the edges. He felt more vines creep around his limbs, encircling his uninjured leg and wrists and neck, choking off his air, before the black tendrils creeping across his vision expanded and everything went black.