The Reaper that Fergus had bought ("not literally", as he had swore to Castiel), was a little sneaky-looking guy, and not by any means someone that Castiel would had put his fate on in any regular situation. He kept fidgeting and practically begging Fergus to not rat him out about this later, while his eyes gleamed with greed as Fergus casually reminded him how much he would pay for him from this little escapade.

Cowardly opportunist, Castiel summed up, and way too greedy for his own good.

They were currently making last adjustments to the details of their plan - which wasn't all that grant to the begin with: get in, find Fenrir, break the chain that's told to be unbreakable (Fergus swore he had planned out something that would work on here) and get out of there before the whole Purgatory is on your heels.

And while on it, swallow in as many souls as you can, Castiel added in his mind. He had found the spell he needed for that; it had been in the locker of Fergus' desk, which meant that he was right about the demon thinking the same thing as he did.

Suddenly, the roar of car's engines shook him out of his thought; it took him no time to guess who it might be, and quick eye-contact with Fergus proved that he thought exactly the same; the Winchesters were coming.

"One would thought that little brother's succumb to the world of madness would at least slow them down a bit, but these nut-heads never do anything as presumed", Fergus growled frustratedly.

Castiel didn't say anything; part of him was relieved that Dean was still coherent enough to find a way to follow them, but on the other hand, he knew that he now would have to face them again way too soon, and this time he had done the unforgivable thing: He had hurt Sam.

Fergus clearly wasn't up to start any fights: quickly, he took out of pocket a little bag of powder that smelled herbs and, suspiciously enough, blood. "Don't worry", the demon placated as he saw Castiel staring at him, "this will only slow them down. One of the tricks dear old mom once taught me…"

Castiel nodded.

The doors of the warehouse where they were were pushed open, revealing enraged yet determined Dean and Bobby with their guns out and a very out-of-my-mind-looking Sam.

"Castiel! You better fix Sam up right now, you bastard, or I'm going to-!"

Castiel never get to know with what Dean was going to threaten him, since right then Fergus threw the powder over them. The angel watched as their all muscles seemed to simultaneously cramp, and the hunters started to fall down, looking surprised and little panicked – minus Sam, who quite probably didn't even realize what was happening around him.

"I told you I'm a son of witch", Fergus reminded with leisure tone as he stepped towards the fallen hunters and carefully lifted Dean's chin with the tip of his shoe. "But please, don't get too worked out; this is only a temporary paralysis. You'll start feeling your muscles again after few hours – which means that my feathered friend and I have a plenty of time to get in to the Purgatory and back without a fear to get a knife thrown into our backs."

Dean glared the demon murderously, and Castiel had no doubt that if he could move, he would have killed Fergus on the spot.

Fergus just shrugged, and then, after glancing towards Bobby, took off his jacket and almost gently placed it on the top of older hunter's shoulders. "On your age, laying on the floors won't do you any favors", he admonishes, as if Bobby was himself in fault of his own situation. Man's look was little bewildered, but Castiel wasn't really all that surprised be the demon's actions; Fergus had really marked Bobby as his to toy around with, and as a cat, he enjoyed the game too much to cut it out too early.

"And don't you worry too much about Samantha; I'm sure that once we return, Castiel will be more than happy to aid him back to his previous, questionable sanity!"

By that, Dean glared at Castiel, the betrayal and rage so clear in his eyes that the angel felt like he'd been physically hit.

It hurt, so much actually, that he would had far preferred the actual punch in the face.

"I'll fix this, Dean", Castiel promised. "You'll see; I'll fix it all."

There was no relent in Dean's gaze, and Castiel couldn't find out anything else to say. Instead, he turned towards Fergus. "Can we just leave then here like this?"

Fergus shrugged. "Why not? The whole warehouse is warded against any supernatural being, including both angels and demons, and my little pets outside will keep curious bystanders out of our hair. Seriously, the only reason that the Winchesters get in is because I've precisely ordered my precious Hellhounds to not engage to any battle with them."

Castiel nodded absentmindedly; he know how fond Fergus was to his Hellhounds; so fond, actually, that it could be referred as love, have Fergus not been a demon and unable to express that kind of feeling. But is it really so?, some traitorous part of his mind commented. Maybe demons – and this one particularly - are capable to a lot more than Heaven gives them credit for…

He was shaken out of his worrisome thought by Fergus, who said, "Well, we've wasted enough time for these three, already; let's get move on."

Castiel shook his head a bit to clear his mind before following Fergus to where the Reaper was standing. He took their hands, and Castiel had just time to register that the Reaper's palm was damp with sweat, before world around them disappeared.

So, it didn't go even a near as smoothly as they had hoped for, but eventually they made what they needed to do: They get to the Purgatory.


The landscape was very… gray. That was the first impression that Castiel got once the Reaper let go of their hands and they had time to look around. They were standing in the forest, and if Castiel listened very hard, he could hear the noise of flowing water; so there was a river nearby.

"Now you need to follow the river till it flows to the valley; there you'll find the… creature you're looking for."

"And how do we find him once we get there?" Fergus questioned.

"Believe me, it's impossible to miss", the Reaper swore. "But be aware, that every creature out there would be more than happy to kill you, especially you, angel; they really hate your kind here. And you'll need to come back in this specific spot in twelve hours; once I return, I'll only wait three minutes, not longer."

Fergus looked at him searchingly. "Oh? And I guess there's no other ways out, then?"

The Reaper fidgeted. "I-I can't tell you! Even bringing you here is strictly against the orders, but showing you the gateways… No, I can't do that!"

Fergus eyes got reddish gleam in them. "Oh? Are you sure…?"

Castiel came to stand between the two of them. "Thank you", he said quickly to the Reaper, "we'll take a heed of your warning, and be back in time. You've a clock, don't you, Fergus?"

Sighing, Fergus show him rather expensive-looking pocket-watch before saying, "Are we going, then?" Castiel didn't miss the grumpy tone of his voice.

The Reaper disappeared, and they started walking towards the river. Without saying a word, Fergus took out his knife and Castiel saw it as a hint to do the same.

It didn't last long before Castiel realized that they weren't alone anymore; he couldn't see anyone, but did sense the unkind eyes that were following their every movements. He touched lightly Fergus' arm, and the demon nodded; he had sensed the same.

"Keep walking", Fergus hissed. "Let them make the first move."

They didn't need to wait long; first creature jumped down off the tree, mouth wide open and sharp teeth ready to bite down, but was cut down by Fergus before it had landed. Next one came behind them, only to be stopped by Castiel.

"These are vampires!" he said.

"No kidding", Fergus growled back. More creatures were coming out from pushes, eyes gleaming murderously. "Well, we have no time to waste on brawling with these bloodsuckers!" Castiel realized that Fergus filled his hand with the same powder that he had used to the Hunters, and had just time to duck out before the demon dozed their persecutors with it, making them loose the control of their muscles.

While the Winchesters and Bobby hadn't seemingly been in any pain after they'd been paralyzed, the vampires were a whole different thing; they were clearly in agony.

"Why does it have that kind of affect on them?" Castiel asked.

Fergus shrugged. "I added some dead-man's blood and silver in the recipe; thought that simple paralyzing wouldn't hold them down long enough."

"…How much do you have that powder?"

"Hopefully enough to get us where Fenrir is; after that… Well, I'm kind of hoping that the big guy will be able to lend us some help."

It wasn't the first time that Castiel had a change to grudgingly admire just how resourceful the demon was. It seemed that Fergus was always having, not only a plan and a back-up plan, but also a back-out plan for the back-out plan.

It's no wonder how he became a king…

They walked down low hill, found the river and started following it. Their journey continued as it had started, in silence, getting ambushed every now and then and putting up fight, using both their knives and Fergus' powder to end the struggle as soon as possible. They needed to retain their strength, since neither of them had any idea just how far they would need to walk.

"We've been lucky, so far", Fergus reminded as they were wiping their knives clean after an encounter with pack of werewolves. "The top-predators aren't on our tail, yet."

"What are they?" Castiel asked.

Fergus shrugged. "I don't know any details", he admitted, "but from what I read from Aziraphale's library, God apparently banished something here – something he created even before you angels."

Castiel frowned. "I've never heard about such species."

"Join the club", Fergus grunted and stretched his back. "Damn, this body's getting old!"

"Are you planning to harvest a new one, then?" Castiel wasn't sure how he felt about that; he knew that this body wasn't Fergus, but he had kind of gotten used for him to look like this.

"Nah, I like this one", the demon answered. "Come on, feathers - let's keep going…"

As they went farther, the landscape started becoming more and more bare. There were no longer trees, and all grass was withered and dead-looking. The river ran slower and became meager, and rocks were sharp-edged and unwelcoming. It was truly deserted place.

"Have you noticed something?" Fergus suddenly asked.

Castiel frowned. "No. What, then?"

"That we haven't been ambushed quite some time. That means, that either we managed to scare them away", sarcastic smile made it clear that the demon didn't believe that being a case, "or we're nearing a place where even monsters wont dare to set their foot."

And as if called, they soon came to the edge of a cliff that sloped down to the deep valley.

"It's more like a canyon", Fergus commented, but absentmindedly. They both were little too busy to stare down to the deep. "Impossible to miss… He could have told us that this thing is HUGE!"

The valley was deep and wide, but This Thing – Fenrir – filled it almost completely. The wolf was near of the size of a mountain.

They stared down at it – him? – and it stared right back, it's eyes wild and ravenous. It was thin, way too so for a beast of its size, and Castiel could easily count its ribs. There were many bald spots in its fur, and the loops of chain were bloody and rusty in where they had rubbed its skin raw. Its mouth was open, due the enormous sword that was stabbed right through its lower jaw, trapping it against the ground while the hilt prevented upper jaw from closing. The sword also hold down it's tongue, making it impossible to speak, if it even had that talent, but it didn't prevent it from growling, in the way that made that ground shake.

"Well, let's introduce ourselves, then", Fergus decided, and took few steps closer. The wolf growled louder and stretched its muscles, but the chains that hold it down didn't allow it to move.

"Fenrir Lokason, I presume? I'm Crowley, the king of Hell, and my companion here is named Castiel, Thursday's angel – kind of made its older namesake to lose his job, didn't he?" He made a short pause, as if excepting some kind of answer from the wolf, before continuing. "Well, some time ago you papa – or was it mama? I never quite understood that god's family tree…" At that point, the wolf huffed, as if to say, "I'm listening, demon; now get to the business. "Anyway, some time ago Loki did us a favor, and we promised him a counter favor, and that brings us here; we've come to set you free."

The wolf made a noise that almost sound like laughing; it ended short, probably because of the pain it was causing to it, but there was some bitter humor in its eyes. As if it was asking, "And how could you possibly manage to do that?"

"Oh, I've got my secrets; now, will you allow us to come closer, so we can reach your chains and at least try to break them down?"

Humoring them, the wolf turned its head and allowed them to approach it until they stood in a place where chain came to ground near its neck. Gleipnir, as Castiel was remembering that Fergus had called it, seemed way too fragile to hold down such a huge beast as Fenrir, but once he touched it, he could feel just how strong it was.

"Well, we wont get any younger; let's see if this works out…" Fergus took out a little bottle from his pocket and hold it carefully as if it could blow off any moment. "Shit, never dealing with this stuff after this…"

"What is it?" Castiel asked. The bottle was almost empty, only a few droplets of greenish liquid on the bottom of it.

"Only the most potent poison that there's ever been, darling", Fergus answered. "It's called Eitr… Now, I need you to hold this", he said and offered Castiel little chalice, "and once I drip one drop of thin into the chains, you'll catch it before it hits the ground, okay?"

Castiel took another look of the bottle. "Is it that dangerous?"

Fergus shrugged. "Possibly more, but we can't do any better than that… You ready?"

Castiel reached out his hand to take the chalice but then pulled it back.

Fergus looked incredulous. "What are you playing up now?!"

"Answer one question for me, first: When were you planning on telling me that you were going to take souls from here into your possession?"

Fergus seemed little stunned. "When… When did you get such an idea?"

Castiel was fuming. "Don't play with me, demon! You knew that I was – that I am - desperate in my fight against Rafael; we're you really planning to get power-boost from there and not even mention it to me?!"

"I – Well… Castiel, I never planned to leave you out of it, I just… I wanted to accomplish our first goal before telling you about this other option; I thought it would be easier for you to concentrate, that way. I mean, if I had told you about the souls from the very beginning, you would had wanted to do that first and make sure that everything was fine at home before even thinking about going on our rescue mission – and Loki aren't that patient."

"So when, Fergus, were you planning to tell me, then?"

"I was going to do that just as soon as we got out of there! … See, the point is, we don't need to be in the Purgatory when we do the ritual – all we need to do is make a crack on the doorway, and call the souls to us."

It sounded so convincing, and Castiel was inclined to believe Fergus words – he wanted to believe them, and it scare him of how much he wanted them to be true – but he knew that Fergus was a salesman through to through. He knew how to use his words – after all, he had used them to persuade people to sell their immortal souls into Hell. This was just the demon doing what he was the best of – making Castiel to buy his assurances.

"Look, I know you don't believe me – and I can't really blame you, I wouldn't believe myself if I was in your shorts – but can we maybe have this conversation after we've gotten our job done and got out of here?!"

Castiel, while still suspicious, had no desire to get trapped into the Purgatory, and as Fergus once again offered the chalice, he took it and held it beneath the chains while Fergus slowly drop one single drop of poison to the chain. First, the drop just stood there, but then chain beneath it started to ooze out bad-smelling steam and as they watched, the droplet started to eat its way through the chain.

"Be ready to catch it! If it hits the ground, we've no idea how deep it'll go!"

Once the droplet had eaten its way all the way through, Castiel captured it in the chaice, and looked at Fergus. "What do we do next?"

"Depends on the big guy. Oy, Fenrir! One loop of the chain is broken. You think that's enough for you to shrug them off?"

The enormous wolf moved around, trying its chains for the first time who knows how long time. Then it let out single most pitiful whine either of them had ever heard; most be because you won't expect that kind of noise from such a huge beast.

"It's all fine", Fergus assure, with the same tone Castiel had heard him using while talking to his hounds, "we keep breaking more till they fall off, and then we'll see what we can do to that sword in your mouth."

They walked little past of Fenrir' shoulders, and repeated the same thing, then again moving further, breaking loops as they went. Soon Fenrir was able to move it front paws, then stretch its shoulders; once they broke the chains that run over its pelvis, Fenrir was finally free enough to raise its whole body from the ground and shake of the rest of its bindings. Only thing that now hold it was the sword, and Castiel wondered if that would be the trickiest thing to get through.

They poured the poison from the chalice pack to the bottle and walked back where Fenrir head was, and Castiel was little taken aback by the sheer gratefulness in its eyes. Fergus just patted its snout, or as close as he could reach it. "Nasty things, say no more… Well, only one thing left; I hope you'll allow as come to stand inside your mouth? And please, do not swallow…"

Fenrir answered by leisure wave of its tail, which could have easily thrown down a house or a little forest.

"I take that as yes", Fergus concluded and climbed in the beast mouth, making face as his shoes got slobber in them. "I'm so throwing these away", he muttered.

Castiel went after him, noticing that each of Fenrir's teeth were longer than him. Are we really going to do this? It seems docile enough now but afterwards…

"We have no time for having second thoughts, Castiel! Come here, we need to cut this thing off!" Fergus already had his knife in the hand and he was using it as a file against the blade of the sword. "Come on, we only have a five and half hours left, and we need at least three of those to walk back!"

It was sweaty job; Fergus used his demon powers to make the sword's blade hot, which made it easier to cut, but it also made it easy from them to burn themselves.

"Can't we use that poison for this?" Castiel asked.

"Do you want to melt his jaw off?" Fergus grunted back, and neither of them wasted any more breath for talking.

Finally they cut through.

Castiel and Fergus quickly climbed out. "Raise your head slowly", Fergus said to the wolf. "The sword is broken, but it still runs through you jaw – And try to not drop the hilt on us!"

Fenrir lifted its huge head from the ground, and spit the hilt out of its mouth; it moved its jaws, stretched its long body and only then looked at them; its eyes were feral, but intelligence, and only then did Castiel truly understand that the beast in front of them was no animal.

Fenrir started to shrink; they could hear its bones crackling as they moved into new places. Fur vanished, snout shrank down in its head and formed face, limbs got longer and fingers appeared.

Then there stood a man in front of them. He was short, not longer than Fergus, but despite how thin he was, there were strong muscles in his arms, legs and stomach. He didn't seem to feel any shame of standing naked in front of two beings he'd only just met; the eyes that scrutinized them were cool and full of pride, as was his stand. There was still something feral left on his face, the air of a top predator, which probably would cause mere mortal to cover and whine.

They weren't mere mortals, yet Castiel still felt himself to prepare either to battle or run.

The man who was the wolf smiled, and it was wolf's smile, full of sharp teeth. "I know you now", he said, and it took while before Castiel realized that he was talking to Fergus. "You've got my brothers smell on you."

Fergus seemed to be just as surprised as Castiel. "Your – oh. Oh." The demon's eyes went as wide as saucers, and he looked like a kid who had just understood how one plus one made two. "Oh."

Castiel looked at the demon questioning, but for once, he seemed unable to talk coherently, so he turned back towards – well, Fenrir. "Do you want to borrow my coat?" he offered.

Fenrir shrugged. "If it makes you feel better."

Meanwhile, Fergus seemed to gather his bearings. "Feathers, we have only two and half hours to get back to our starting point!"

"Be at ease", Fenrir told him, as he veiled his nakedness in Castiel's coat. "I can promise that we'll travel faster now that I'm with you. No creature here will take a stand against me."

"Well, that's very nice of you, but we still better get going since Castiel and I aren't on our top shape right now… and neither are you, I suppose."

Fenrir shrugged again. "Very well, let us go."

As Fenrir had promised, their journey took less time than it had last time. Castiel could still sense other monsters nearby, even see them from the corner of his eye, but they never advanced any closer than that.

"Werewolves leave us alone, since they hold great admiration towards me", Fenrir said, "and the others shy away, since they know that I have no love towards their kind."

Finally they arrived to the point where the Reaper had left them, and sat down to wait.

Castiel's mind was like a nest full of wasps; part of him was ready to trust in Fergus and wait till he was ready for the ritual – but the other part…

How can I have become so trustful towards the demon? He's only making sure to achieve his own ends, and uses me as his sidekick to do that… That's what demons do, and he's no different than the rest of them.

And yet… he has his own, although twisted, moral code, and he follows it –more than that, he makes sure that his subordinates do the same.

But he can also twist he's morals; after all, he did trick Bobby to sell him his soul as a temporary deal and then refuse to gave it back just because of formalities.

Yes, yes, but…

But he enjoyed Fergus' company. It had been so long since he had felt that kind of companionship towards anyone – Dean could, perhaps, be a exception, but he would always be first Sam's brother, then a hunter, and only then Castiel's friend.

Why does knowing that hurt so much…?

He had already burned all his bridges with the Winchesters; if he now turned against Fergus, it would mark the end of that, too.

But then I would have Heaven…

"It seems our drive has arrived", Fergus said suddenly, and Castiel lifted his head to see disturbance in the air just a moment before the Reaper appeared.

"Mister Crowley… I – I see you found, um, who you were looking for…" the Reaper stammered, looking at Fenrir with wide, frightened eyes.

"Yes, yes, no time for niceties – I want out there, and to shower. No, make that bath; I'll take long, relaxing bath and kill every demon stupid enough to interrupt me!"

"I, ah, I see… If you now would join your hands…?"

They did so; Castiel thought only a moment before taking the Reapers hand and joining his other hand with Fenrir; Fergus seemed surprised by that but didn't say anything as he, too, took the Reaper's and Fenrir' hand, completing their circle.

The world started once again disappear around them; but this time, Castiel didn't pay any attention, since he was chanting with a very low voice, feeling how the marks that he had beforehand painted into his chest started to glow…

Too late, Fergus realized what was happening; his eyes widened almost comically, and Castiel could hear his shouting, "Castiel, wait, no!", but he hardly paid any attention, since right now, all he could feel was something entering

… And then, all they were gone.


Notes:

Gleipnir was only chain strong enough to hold Fenrir, and the dwarves made it out of the sound of a cat's footfall, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the sinews of a bear, the breath of a fish and the spittle of a bird. It was as thin as a silken ribbon, yet stronger than any iron chain.

Eitr is a mythical substance in Norse mythology. This liquid is the origin of all living things: the first giant Ymir was conceived from eitr. The substance is supposed to be very poisonous and is also produced by Jörmungandr (the Midgard serpent) and other serpents; in Scandinavian folklore, it's used as a synonym for snake's poison.

In mythology, Fenrir was bound of the boulder called Gjöll. I decided to use valley (since otherwise he could be seen from far, and Castiel and Fergus would need to climb rather hide to get to him), but since Gjöll is also a name of the river that separates the world of the living from underworld, and Castiel and Fergus need to follow river to find Fergus, I think that that's enough of a connection.

I couldn't find the name of the sword that was placed in Fenrir jaws, so maybe it was never given one…