He woke to soft fingers on his cheek and lukewarm water being poured onto his lips. Groaning, he turned his head away to avoid the water, feeling it run down his cheek when he did. His mouth tasted sour, his throat felt as though it had been scraped raw, and his head was pounding. His injured foot ached.

"You alive, Clarence?"

Opening one eye, he saw Meg leaning over him, a small frown on her face. She sported several small cuts on her cheeks, which were smeared lightly with blood, and there were twigs stuck in her hair. But she had both her eyes, and her arms were perfectly intact.

He sat up slowly, waiting for the world to change again and for horrible wounds to bloom on Meg's body. But the sun still shone, and the dirt under him stayed solid. Wherever Meg had taken him, it was different from the other safe place she'd found. The clearing was small, maybe ten feet from one side to the other, and bordered by trees that reminded him of bars. The branches stretched upward, forming an arch above his head.

Meg snapped her fingers in front of his face to make him focus. He took the offered water skin when she pressed it to his lips and drank deep, reaching up to place his hand over her own so she would not take it away.

"Slow," Meg ordered. "You'll be puking everywhere again if you don't pace yourself."

He took a last sip and lowered the water skin. "Sorry."

The corners of her lips twitched. "Welcome back."

"How did you even find me?" Castiel asked her.

"I heard you screaming and followed that," Meg told him. "I wasn't sure if it was the forest or you, but I had to try. I just got lucky, I guess. What happened to you?"

"I was so hungry," he said. "I couldn't help myself."

"You ate the food?" Meg guessed. "What did the forest try to give you? Apples? Pomegranates?"

"Pears," he said. "I've never tasted anything so sweet."

"You're lucky you threw them up. You'd still be seeing things if you hadn't."

He shuddered. "Thank God."

"Sorry for knocking you out, by the way. But you refused to come with me."

"I thought you were another hallucination. When I looked at you, you didn't have any eyes, and there were great chunks of flesh missing from your arms. I thought you would try to kill me like-" Castiel swallowed and looked away. "It doesn't matter."

"What did you see?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

Meg snorted. "Cut the bullshit, Clarence."

"I saw you," he blurted. "Not at first. First I drowned. There was water everywhere, and fish, and it felt so real, and then I fell and it rushed up over me and down my lungs and I drowned. When it went away, I was perfectly dry. I heard you screaming, after, and I tried to find you. Then I did."

"It wasn't me," Meg said gently. "You know it wasn't."

"But it felt so real," he said. "I crashed into a clearing and I saw you on the ground. You were naked, and pregnant, and dead."

Meg whistled. "Shit."

Castiel nodded. "Yes. I heard the baby's heart beating, and then I went to cut it out of you, to see if I could save it. But it wasn't a baby. It ripped its way out of you, and it was a monster. We made a monster."

"We didn't. It wasn't real."

"I know that now, but it felt so real. Your body was so cold, and hard, and the child's teeth were so sharp. And her voice was-she sounded like you. Exactly like you. She looked like us, too. She had your hair and nose, and she had my eyes." He hunched over and shook his head. "I want to go home."

Meg moved to lay her head on his shoulder. "Me, too."

He reached down and laced his fingers through hers. "I'm glad you're not dead."

She barked a laugh, but squeezed his hand. "Thanks. I'm glad nothing got you, either."

"Crowley, or the forest, or whatever it is, it isn't going to let us leave," Castiel said quietly. "I spoke to it."

Meg sat up quickly, eyes wide. "What? You talked to Crowley? Where?"

"I'm not sure if I talked to him or the trees," he said slowly. "After the plants took me, I woke up in the Skulltree clearing. One of the skulls spoke to me."

"You were just hallucinating."

Castiel shook his head. "No, I wasn't. This was before I ate the pears."

"So, you talked to it. What did it say?"

"It said that the woods would never let us go, and that I would never find you."

"Well, you did find me," Meg pointed out. "So it clearly didn't know what it was talking about."

"I didn't find you. You found me," Castiel corrected. "So, technically, the skull was right."

"Are you a prince or a lawyer?"

He shot her an annoyed look. "Meg, listen. The skull also said that Crowley and the woods are one in the same now. I think that's why you were able to find Skulltree in the same place three days in a row, and why you were able to find me after we got separated. It means he's weak. I think it means that, the weaker he is, the weaker the magic that controls this place is. But I also think that if he dies, this goes back to being an ordinary forest."

"You think so?"

He shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. It's just a theory. But it couldn't hurt."

"You're suggesting that we find him and kill him?" Meg asked. "Even though we have no idea how his magic works, or how powerful he really is, and even though it's most likely a suicide mission?"

He locked eyes with her. "That's exactly what I'm suggesting."

She gave him a toothy smile. "I knew I loved you for a reason. Let's do it. If I die, I wanna die facing that bastard down. I'm not getting eaten by trees or shadow dogs."

"I agree," Castiel said. "We die facing the enemy. But I will try to take him with me. You have to promise me that you will flee, if that is what happens. Leave me and go. Fly, if you must."

Meg snorted. "Not a chance, Clarence."

"I know your country has different customs, but if I'm recalling your cousin's wedding correctly, you still promise to obey your spouse. Sort of."

"You're thinking of your cousin's wedding. We don't do that. Besides, you're not my husband yet," Meg said dryly. "Anyway, no one in their right mind would listen to that bullshit. I know you wouldn't, if I told you to leave me to die while you ran away."

"You have two working feet," he pointed out. "I don't even know how bad mine are."

"Not that bad," Meg told him. "I had to get your pants off to give them a bit of a wash, so I took a look at your foot while you were sleeping, and I tinkered with it a little. It won't hold up without proper medical attention. Ruby didn't teach me enough healing magic to fix it completely, and I don't have a talent for it, anyway. But it should be enough to get us out of here. Maybe. Depends on how badly we're injured in the fight with Crowley. If we live through it. But neither of us leaves the other behind. Agreed?"

He pursed his lips. Shame flooded him for a moment when he remembered that he had wet himself while facing the hallucination, but Meg didn't seem to be judging him for it, so he pushed it out of his mind. "Agreed."

Meg nodded. "Good. I found your pack, by the way, when the plants receded. So there's food."

She helped him to his feet and led him to a small, square table at the center of their hideaway. His pack was covered in twigs and leaves, and the remaining food was squished and bruised, but Castiel almost wept at the sight of it. After the hallucinations, he would've gladly eaten bugs without complaint, and was more grateful than he'd ever been in his life for regular food. His injured foot still ached, but it no longer throbbed in pain when he walked on it. He tore at a strip of jerky and slowly sipped at his water while Meg walked to the other side of the hideout and rummaged around in the branches.

Swallowing the last of his jerky, he stared at her. "What is this place?"

"Jo and I called it the Birdcage," Meg answered, still rummaging through the branches. "This was the first safe place we found, and I was still a bird when we found it, so we thought it fit." Meg let out a small sound of triumph, clearly finding what she was looking for, and walked back over to the table. She smiled at him and placed a small, wooden cup in front of him before sinking into the other chair.

"What is that for?"

She ignored the question. "Give me your sword, will you?"

Even though he was confused, he obeyed her, and took his dagger out of his boot when Meg motioned to it. She pushed the pack off the table and finger-combed her hair, trying to force it into order. There were still twigs and bits of leaves stuck in her tresses, but they only made her seem lovelier, like some sort of forest creature rather than a princess.

She stood once she was finished, and gestured for him to do the same. "Do you want to get married today?"

Stunned, he sat back down. "What?"

"Do you want to get married today?" Meg repeated. "Before we die, I mean. It seems like something you'd want to do."

"We can't get married. There's no one to officiate."

"Well, it wouldn't be legal," Meg admitted. "If we do survive, we'd have to have a legal wedding, anyway. But if we do die, I thought you'd like to do it married."

"Of course I do," he said quietly. "Sure. Let's get married."

She nodded. "Alright. Stand up and let's do this thing. You know the words?"

He did. He'd spent weeks practicing them, to ensure he wouldn't be stumbling his way through their marriage ceremony. "I know them. I hope I'll remember them."

"I'll go first, since they're basically the same. Stand up, Clarence. You can't get married sitting down."

He obeyed her. Removing his cloak, he laid it on the ground and dusted off his clothing. Meg stood away from him, his sword resting on the table. He placed his dagger next to it and then held out his hands to draw her onto the cloak. His palms were sweaty, and he noticed that hers were as well, although her face betrayed no signs of nervousness or excitement.

She took a deep breath. "I, Princess Megan Masters, first daughter of King Azazel and Queen Abaddon Masters, heir to the throne of Ennom, offer myself to you in marriage, so that we may join together as one heart, body, and mind, until death do us part."

He squeezed her fingers and swallowed hard. "I, Prince Castiel Novak, sixth son of King Chuck and Queen Naomi Novak, brother to King Gabriel Novak, and child of Araboth, offer myself to you in marriage, so that we may join together as one heart, body, and mind, until death do us part."

Meg smiled and took her hands from his. Reaching for his sword, she held it delicately, and offered it to him. "I have no piece of me to share with you, and no food for your table, but I offer you this blade, and with it the protection of my body, until the end of my days."

Castiel took the sword, kissed it, and then set it aside to take up his dagger. Keeping his hands tucked together, palms up, he offered it to Meg. "I accept your gift, and I accept you as my wife. I also have no piece of myself to share, nor food for your table, but I offer you this blade, and with it the protection of my body, until the end of my days."

Meg took the dagger and kissed it, but kept it in her hands. "I accept you as my husband." Instead of taking his hand and kissing him as custom dictated, she turned her left hand so her palm was facing upward and slowly drew the dagger across it, making a shallow cut. Squeezing her hand into a fist, she held it over the wooden cup for a few moments. When she was finished, she held the dagger back to him.

Taking it, he copied her motions, setting the dagger next to the cup when he was through. The cut on his palm throbbed, and he hoped Meg had some way to bandage them.

But a blood vow was the most important part of the ceremony.

Meg took the small cup and held it to his lips. "I offer you my soul, so that we may be joined in this life and the next."

He opened his mouth and drank. The cup was small, and only held two mouthfuls of their mixed blood, so he was careful not to take too much. He tried not to gag at the taste, and held his breath so he would not smell it.

When he'd taken his share, he took the cup from Meg's fingers and held it to her lips. "I offer you my soul, so that we may be joined in this life and the next."

Meg opened her mouth and swallowed their mixed blood down without hesitating. When he pulled the cup away, her teeth were stained pink. She smiled at him. "You may now kiss the bride." He did. There was blood on her lips, and he knew that there was blood on his. He felt her tongue run across his lips to take it and shivered. She was still smiling when he pulled away.

"Wife," he greeted.

"Castiel Masters," she said. "Welcome to the family."

He laughed and kissed her again. She smiled against his lips, and twined their fingers together. He felt her injured palm slide against his own, mixing their blood together further. Meg drew away from him, and placed her hand over their joined ones. He put his hand on top of hers, so all four of their hands were touching.

"And what is joined together, no man may tear apart," he finished.

"See? We didn't need a priest or king after all." She bared her teeth at him in a smile. His injured palm felt sticky against hers.

"What now?" he asked her.

Meg wiggled her eyebrows. "Well, we are married now."

He thought of the spider-creature and shuddered. "No. Not just now, I think."

"Well," Meg said, taking her hands from his, "we best start planning, then."

.

She healed their hands first, binding the cuts with plants from inside of their hideout and speaking over them. When she pulled the plants away, he was amazed that there was only a faint, pink line on his palm, while Meg's skin betrayed no evidence that there had ever been a knife on it. When he asked her why, she only smiled and told him that it was easier to heal your own flesh than it was to heal another person's.

She made him eat again as she combed through the clearing, looking for anything useful. He sat watching her as he ate their last apple and rubbed his thumb over the pink line on his palm. It was strange to think of himself and Meg as married when there had been no fanfare, no family and friends around them, and no celebration afterward. Their wedding feast consisted of an apple and some dried meat, and their wedding night of planning murder.

He'd been imagining his wedding day for eight years, and nothing had turned out as expected.

"You're awfully quiet," Meg commented.

"We just got married. I'm absorbing it," he said. "Find anything?"

"Not a thing. Looks like the only weapons we have are the sword and dagger. The sword is good, but the dagger is pretty much useless."

"You have some magic. That fire thing was useful."

"I don't know if I could do it again. It takes a lot of energy. Plus, I don't think it'd kill Crowley. Ruby taught me some tricks, but I'm not very skilled at it. The sword might work, though. It's meant to break through spells."

"So, all we have to do is get close enough for one of us to run him through with it?"

Meg nodded. "Yes. I don't think he knows that it's magic."

"He definitely knows that it broke through the spells around Skulltree, though. The skull I spoke to there said that the woods and Crowley are one, which means he definitely felt it when I use the sword on the barrier."

"Magic swords are everywhere in fiction, but very rare in real life. It took me a long time to get it forged. You have to have something made of dragon or unicorn in it, in order to make it work, because there has to be some magic in it already. Then you have to find a coven with a smith in it, and they have to be willing to bless it while they make it, along with others in the coven. The whole coven has to agree to do it, and they charge an outrageous fee for it, too. They weave spells into the steel, layers of them, around and on top of each other," Meg explained. "Most witches who are trained at the sword channel their magic through the steel when they fight, which makes it look like magic swords are more common than they really are."

"You said Samhain had a magic sword," Castiel pointed out.

"Yes, and it's been in his family for over five hundred years," Meg told him. "As far as we know, there are only five truly magical swords in existence. Yours makes number five. There might be a few hidden away somewhere in the world, in families that don't know what they are or at the bottom of ponds or stuck in stones, or something. Covens are still rare, even in Ennom, and witches are outlawed in a lot of countries still. Including yours. Crowley won't think you have a magic sword. He'll think that you're a witch, and that you're using your sword to channel your magic. Or that I did."

"Won't he try to take it, then?"

Meg shook her head. "No. There are only two reasons you send magic through an object in battle. One is to hit harder than you normally could, and the other is to reach something without getting close to it. Either way, Crowley will assume you're weaker than you really are, if you're sending magic through your steel. If he's powerful enough to manipulate the forest paths and transport you somewhere else in the woods without a scratch on you, then he's a very, very powerful witch. Not to mention that he's had over two hundred years to hone his Craft."

Castiel took Meg's word for it. It was true that witches were still outlawed in most places, and hunted down and burned if caught, driving the few of them left into hiding. Ennom was one of the few countries that allowed open practice of witchcraft, and Meg had grown up around it, so he trusted her knowledge of the practice. "I don't understand why he needs blood, though. How would blood heal him?"

"Blood is the conduit to the soul," Meg said. Her voice was low and quiet, as if betraying a secret. "In the old days, there were people who would drink the blood of the people they killed, because they believed that they could steal a person's soul that way. All of the most powerful spells require some of your own blood, because you have to let your soul flow into the earth."

"So, he's not just taking people's blood, but he's stealing their souls?"

Meg nodded. "Ruby explained it to me, but I didn't understand all of it. Souls are energy, sort of. It's like a-a-" She waved her hands around, groping for the right world. "-a water wheel."

"A water wheel? Like at a mill?"

Meg nodded again. "Yeah. Your blood is soaked with energy from your soul. When your body rots, you let that energy into the ground, and it flows everywhere, and it powers everyone's magic, and the growth of trees and flowers and crops. Same thing happens when you burn, except the energy releases into the air. The blood vow isn't just pretty words, you know. It's literally two people mixing their souls together, to become one soul."

Castiel opened his hand and traced the pink mark on his palm. "One soul."

"Joined in this life and the next, forever. Blood is powerful, Castiel. Never forget that."

"Now I won't."

"Good. Now, we should see how far his castle is from here. The best thing to do would be to sneak in there and take him by surprise."

"How do you plan on finding his castle?"

"We climb a tree," Meg said. "We'll see if that works."

"I thought you said that you tried to fly out of the trees already and you couldn't?"

"You never know until you try. Besides, we can't exactly escape by climbing a tree, and it's a better plan than wandering around the forest and hoping to run into him."

"Won't the location of the castle move?"

"Well, unless we run into shadow dogs are walking corpses, or something else, I say we stick with our original plan and just walk in the general direction of it until we get to it, and use the sword to carve our way through the trees if they block us. Unless you have a better plan?"

"I don't."

"Okay then. Climb a tree it is."

Meg helped him shoulder his pack, slipping the cup they'd used for their blood vow deep inside of it. It made him smile, to see that she wanted to save some small piece of their unconventional marriage ceremony.

Their hideaway vanished behind them once they stepped into the forest, just as the last one had. It was twilight outside, and the leaves on the trees were just beginning to glow, turning Meg's pale skin a sickly greenish color. He watched as she turned in a circle to find a tree with low branches, and followed her when she began to haul herself up.

His injured foot made him slow, which forced Meg to slow her own climb to keep them from being separated. The tree itself seemed to go on forever, more and more branches appearing the higher they went. The branches themselves never seemed to thin, each one as wide around as two of his arms pressed together and longer than his body. The sun refused to sink lower in the sky, hovering at twilight.

Finally, although the branches refused to thin and the leaves were thicker than ever, they broke through the canopy.

The forest stretched around them like a glowing green ocean with no end in sight. The trees seemed to fill every inch of space, right to the setting sun that hovered at the horizon, casting an orange glow over the green. No matter which way he turned, Castiel could not see any villages, or the great towers of Meg's castle, or even open fields or roads. There was only the green ocean.

"What do you think would happen right now, if you turned into a bird?" Castiel asked.

"The trees would probably grow higher," Meg answered. Wind blew from somewhere, sending her hair whipping around her face and stinging his eyes. "Do you smell it?"

"Smell what?" he asked, inhaling.

"Exactly. It should smell like trees. But it doesn't up here. This could be another trick."

"Do you think so?"

"Maybe, maybe not. But look." Meg turned to her left and pointed. Castiel followed her finger and swallowed hard.

"Smoke," he said, watching as a thin, gray cloud curled toward the hazy sky. "Someone else is here."

"Must be Crowley's lair," Meg said. As soon as the sentence left her mouth, he heard a strange rumbling noise, and felt a strange sensation, as if the tree was shrinking under him. It was gone in a moment, but when it was, the whole forest was shorter, and two thick, gray towers of stone rose from the greenery where the smoke was coming from.

"I think it is. Shall we rest before we head out?"

Meg shook her head. "I slept while you were sleeping. I only woke up a few minutes before you did. Besides, I don't want to spend another night in this stupid place."

"I don't want to do that, either," Castiel admitted.

"Then let's climb down and start walking."

They did. The climb to the ground seemed shorter than the climb up had, although the forest floor looked unchanged, when Castiel looked up, the trees seemed just as high as they had before. Meg didn't look with him. Instead, she took his hand and led him away. The path was wide enough for the two of them to walk size by side, though the trees brushed his shoulders as they walked. Castiel kept an eye out for unusual shadows, and gradually relaxed when the forest remained silent.

Meg stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. "If we live through this, we may have to postpone the wedding, depending on how long we've actually been gone. Dad might've named Tom his official heir and found him a little wife."

"I doubt that. The second thing, anyway."

"Why? Tom's good looking, and he'd be next in line for the throne."

"Well, for one, I left your brother at my house," Castiel said. "My sister seemed very taken with him, and she's not yet eighteen."

Meg laughed. "Well then. At least we won't have to worry about that. I wonder if Ruby had her baby yet?"

"I don't think so. She wasn't very far along, if I recall."

"We don't know how long we've been here, though. The forest plays tricks. I thought I'd been here for months, remember?"

"My best guess is that we've been here for only a few days," Castiel said. "At any rate, your father will certainly have to adjust the menu for the wedding. All the food will have spoiled by now."

Meg snorted. "And the flowers. And the musicians. Poor dad. He'll have to plan the whole thing over again."

Castiel smiled at her. "We might not get married for another year!"

"It only took him a few months to plan it. He'll just have to adjust the flowers and color schemes and menu for the spring instead of the fall. If he can wait that long. He might just rush it."

Castiel sighed and shook his head. When Azazel had suggested an autumn wedding, Castiel had been filled with visions of a lazy winter with Meg. He'd envisioned the two of them snowed in together, spending days tucked up in bed, warmed only by the fire and each other. "When this is over, we should go away together. To the sea, maybe. For our honeymoon. Someplace warm."

"That'd be nice. Some time to relax in the sun." He made a small noise of agreement and squeezed her hand. She squeezed it back. "Look, the sun is rising again."

It was. The leaves were dimming and pools of sunlight were streaming through the branches, chasing away the shadows. "Do you think that's a good sign?"

Meg shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. But you never-" She froze as a rustling sound came from the bushes. "Shit."

Castiel's heart began to pound. "It could be an animal."

"Have you seen or heard any animals here?" Meg snapped. "There's no tracks, no scat, no sign of animals at all."

"Shadow dogs?"

She swallowed hard. "I hope not."

The rustling grew louder. Castiel drew his sword and pulled Meg closer to him. "If it is shadow dogs, you transform and fly up into the trees. I'll catch your protection amulet."

"If it is the shadow dogs we may as well throw ourselves at them. There's no way you can flee a second time, not with your foot."

But it wasn't the shadow dogs.

The bushes parted, and Castiel swallowed a scream as a headless body shambled toward them. The bright pink stump gleamed in the sunlight like a burn, and the body's limbs jerked as if they were being controlled by strings. He glanced behind him and saw two more headless bodies emerged from the foliage, followed by the now-familiar growls of the shadow dogs. One of the bodies held a skull in its hands at the level of its belly.

Castiel tried to pull Meg behind him, but she stepped forward. "Crowley."

The skull laughed. Two shadow dogs slunk out of the greenery to stand beside the corpses. Their red eyes glowed from the shadows, and the black drool that fell from their jaws dissolved before it hit the ground. Castiel shivered at the sight of their bared teeth and felt his injured foot throb. But Meg only turned to him and smiled.

"Our cover's blown, Clarence. Sheathe your sword."

"No. We can fight our way out of this," he growled. "Meg, get behind me. Transform or climb a tree. But run."

Meg's voice dropped to a whisper. "We've lost the element of surprise, but that doesn't mean we're beaten. Sheathe your sword, husband. We can still kick this son of a bitch's ass." Her vulgarity didn't surprise him, but he knew that she was serious when she spoke like that. He sheathed his sword. Meg nodded. "Good boy. Now, follow me."

Meg took another step forward and raised her hands, palms up. He did the same. The skull laughed again, and the shadow dogs pressed themselves to the ground. One of them cocked its head to the side, curious.

"Alright, Crowley. You win," Meg said. "We surrender."

"Meg, no! What if they kill us?"

Meg's voice stayed calm and even. "They won't. Crowley wants our blood, and here we are, offering ourselves right up to him." She raised her voice. "You hear me, Crowley? I said that we surrender."

One of the shadow dogs slunk up to them and tried to nudge Meg's leg with its head. The creature's snout passed through her dress harmlessly, but Castiel saw Meg shiver at the sensation. "We'll go, okay? You don't have to touch me."

The shadow dog whined and tried to nudge her again, but Meg stepped backward. The headless bodies took a step forward, urging them to move. When they turned around together the third headless body began to walk down the path. Meg followed without hesitating or even looking back to make sure that Castiel was walking with her. One of the shadow dogs stayed by her side, occasionally running a little ways ahead before turning around and waiting for her to catch up. The other one slunk to his side and stayed silent, its leathery-looking ears standing on end.

Castiel jogged to catch up with Meg and to keep ahead of the two bodies shambling behind them. "What are we going to do?"

"Keep to the original plan," Meg whispered. "Just because we've lost our element of surprise doesn't mean we can't kill the smarmy dick. It just means that we've got an escort and we're guaranteed to find his lair."

The shadow dog next to him snapped at his heels so he would move faster. Castiel glared down at it and grabbed his sword. "I can kill you."

Meg put her hand on his arm. "Calm down. Look, we're almost there."

He looked. The trees were thinning, giving way to an open stretch of forest that was dominated by a long, squat building with two tall towers on either side. It would have been generous to call it a castle, but Castiel supposed that, just like the forest, it could change at will, and that it only appeared small to someone standing outside of it.

He took a deep breath. "Into Hell we go."

Meg nodded and took his hand as the shadow dogs drove them forward. "Hi-ho, hi-ho, into Hell we go."