Fergus talked as soon as he felt Castiel appearing behind him. "I didn't know that the Colt would not work."

"… I never doubted that."

Surprised, Fergus whipped his head around. "What?!"

Castiel stood there, his head tilted and light frown on his face. "I never doubted your sincerity, in this case at least. I know that you want Lucifer gone just us much us we do, so you would not double-cross us."

That was… weirdly touching. The angel had his familiar "little lost puppy-dog" -expression on his face. It was almost maddeningly cute, and reminded Fergus about his own hellhound while he had still been a mere pup. Maybe he should get it a younger playmate…

Yeah, expect that you, my good fellow, are in exile, he reminded himself.

"So what do you want, then?"

Castiel stepped little closer, and against his better judgement, Fergus allowed it; the angel had trusted him – on certain terms – so it was only fair from him to show some faith, in turn. "You've been missing. Aziraphale and your… father… has been worried about your whereabouts."

Fergus sneered. "So you offered to look after me? How nice of you. Well, as you can see, I'm all peachy, considering that my house was burned down, my tailor was eaten up, and I've been hiding under a rock like some MAGGOT!"

Castiel frowned. "I fail to believe that you would crawl under rocks…"

"It's an expression! For Hell's sake, it's a blessing you at least have your looks…"

Castiel looked little peeved by that. "Don't test me, demon… or I might feel tempted to smite you anyway."

"Like to play it rough, don't you?"

This time Castiel only rolled his eyes; the silent sing of frustration that he had probably picked up from Winchester's – probably because it was used by them a lot around this peculiar angel. "This is pointless…"

"It's called "small-talk", honey… or maybe "bantering", I always get those two mixed up… Well, that certainly explains something, doesn't it?"

By this, Fergus earned strict glare from his companion. "Could you please take this seriously, Fergus? I also wanted to talk with you about the current situation."

"The "current situation" is that we're busted…"

"Fergus, please; I can see that you're irritated, but we're running out of time."

"'Irritated' is putting it lightly", the demon muttered. "Very well: The Colt failed. Any ideas of what we could try next?"

The angel fidgeted by this. "… I was hoping that maybe you had."

Fergus snorted. "Why doesn't that surprise me…? Very well, what about our mighty hunters – whatever may they be planning nowadays?"

"They are still rather crushed about losing their friends."

"Maybe I've been putting too much trust in them if that's all it takes crush their spirit…"

Castiel scowled at him. "They are also very angry, both at Lucifer and you. Don't underestimate them: As soon as they got a littlest clue of what they should try next, they won't give up till war is over and won."

"Or lost", Fergus reminded.

"We won't let them lose."

"Talk about yourself; if it starts to look that we're losing this, I sign myself right out of this team."

The angel had nerve to actually smile. "So you say."

Fergus frowned suspiciously. "What's that supposed to mean, feathers?"

"I think that when times games, you'll rather die fighting than surrender to serve someone you despise", Castiel said.

The blasted angel thinks that he knows me! Fergus raged inwardly. And, what was even worse, he was right: Fergus had no intentions to bow to anyone, least of all to Lucifer.

"Your high opinions of me are insulting", he sniffed. "… So, neither still knows what we should do next."

Castiel sighed. "If only we could consult Aziraphale…"

"No way! You promised that they would be kept out of this mess!"

"Yes, but as one of Principalities, there must be lot that he knows about Lucifer and how he was originally put in the Cage…"

"No buts! We can ask someone else, if we have to", Fergus said with an air of finality.

"Like whom?" Castiel asked, now clearly frustrated and little angry. "I'm not saying that it's an ideal choice for me, either, but if you haven't forgotten all other angels are siding with Mikael and actually want this to happen!"

Fergus opened his mouth, beginning to shout some more, when an orphan idea came into his mind. "All of them…?" he asked sneakily.

"Yes, and if we don't do something soon, they – wait. You're… you're not thinking about what I think you're thinking, are you?"

"If that's "who" which you think that I'm thinking, then I think that we're thinking the same person."

"Um…"

Fergus shook his head. "I'm talking about your Gabriel, you dimwit! Your brother, one of the archangels? Likes to play pagan? Ring any bells?"

"I know who you're talking about! I just… I think it's clear that he already made his point-of-view about this all quite clear."

"Well, maybe we just need to make him change his perception, right? …So, how can we contact him?"

"I-I don't know…"

"… Talk about fallen-apart family."

"But he has been living in rogue several thousands of years!" Castiel snapped.

Fergus sighed and rubbed his neck. "Well, shit." He really didn't want to do this. "Well, lucky to you, I know someone who probably knows where he is or at least could tell as where to find him… Though with him, it's never quite that easy…"

"Really?" Castiel asked, both hopeful but wary.

"Yes", Fergus shortly answered.

"…You don't sound very pleased about this."

Fergus groaned. "Let's just say, that with this person, you never know what turn the events will take. He likes to cause chaos, just because of it, and that may be the reason I can persuade him to help us, but… Like I said, you can never be sure."

"Then who is this person?"

Fergus shrugged, pretentiously nonchalant. "Wouldn't you imagine that if someone let's someone else to use his name, he would also keep tabs on the said parson?"

"You mean… Loke?" Castiel asked and shuddered a bit; the pagan god had always been unpredictable and dangerous, and rumor said that he had also gone crazy…

"Indeed."

"But – why do you think he would even answer to us?"

"Because, apparently, he and my father has some history; old drinking buddies, I should guess… So… Should we make a call~?"


Giving call to one of the most dangerous beings out there, now that's what could be called a good way to spend some time – at least, if the speaker was a complete moron. Fergus felt his hands getting most with cold sweat as he held his cell against his ear. He found himself hoping, childishly, that no-one would answer…

"Hello~?"

No such luck. "And hello to you, oh mightiest of Nordic pantheon; I, Fergus Crowley's son, am humbly asking your assistance in my time of need", Fergus spouted, feeling quite stupid – but even stupider would be go straight to the business.

"Fergus? Oh, you delightful young lad~! How have you been? It's been told that you've made a quite mess for yourself – stepped on dear old Luci's feet, maybe~?"

"That's would be true, your highness", he admitted. "And that's why I'm asking your assistance."

"Me? How could I possibly be useful to you?" Loke asked, his voice full with feigned wonder.

"There's something that my… partner and I need to ask from Archangel Gabriel. You once let him borrow your name to hide from his brethren; can you tell us about his whereabouts?"

"Hmm-mmm~ and why should I think that you deserve my help, little Fergus?" Loke purred like a smug cat. Fergus could imagine him stretching his long body accordingly. "What can you offer me as a counter-service?"

"Other than a world where Heaven and Hell will continue their battle over the souls of mankind?"

Loke chuckled. "Tempting, dear child… And yet; aren't that kind of cheap promise? What if I help you, and yet you still end up losing your battle against both Hell and Heaven? I would had given up my precious time for a naught."

Precious time my butt, Fergus thought petulantly. "And what else there would be that poor me could offer to you, highness?"

"Oh, not much~ just a little favor; there's something that used to be mine – someone, that is – and I year to have him back."

"And does his soul dwell in Hell?" Fergus asked hopefully.

Loke purred. "No; my dear, sweet Fenris, bound by gleipnir and Thor's cursed blade, remains in the belly of Purgatory. The favor I ask for you, should you succeed in your quest, is his freedom."

Fergus couldn't say that he was happy with that, but at least it wasn't as bad deal as it could have been. "I promise to anything I can to free your honored son, highness", he pledged.

"Hmm-mm… You bets to keep your word, my wee Fergus~"

Then the line went silent.

"Wait, you-! Oh, son of-!" Fergus cursed, but right then he heard an unfamiliar voice somewhere behind him saying,

"You gotta be kidding me!"

Fergus turned around, and both he and Castiel stared at half-naked Archangel Gabriel, who was laying on his sofa, looking like he had been just dropped on it from the clear sky.