This can't be real, Dean thought as he stared down in the waters where Castiel had just walked – had been walked to? -, unable to believe that the angel would never rise up there and say, "Hello Dean", with that exactly same tone he always used, had it been days, weeks or months since their last departure.

"I can't believe this", he voices out to Sam and Bobby, their faces also showing same expressions of disbelief and horror.

Castiel, you idiot, Dean thought bitterly, why didn't you listen me? You were supposed to survive, so that I could punch you on face for what you did to Sam and then things could get back to what they were – No, better; since this time, I would actually take a time to notice when you're feeling under feather.

Cas wet, bloodied coat washed on the shore. Dean picked it up and then just stood there a moment, holding it, till Bobby put his hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezing it a bit before giving an encouraging pat.

"We should go, Dean; there's nothing more that we can do here. I'm sorry to say this but… he's gone. And we have the Leviathans to worry about."

Castiel's gone.

Just what the Hell were they supposed to do now?!


Anthony J. Crowley woke up in his expensively styled apartment, in cold sweat and breathing harshly (since sometimes his body forgot that it didn't need to work like human's, especially when he was scared, or nervous, or stressed).

He got out of bed and went to his bathroom, splashing water to his face to get rid of the last remains of his dream, where dark, could waters had surrounded him and he had screamed and called yet no-one had answered to his pleads.

Nightmares had been constant for a some time, ever since he had gotten a surprise visit from his long lost relative and soon after Fergus had appeared, asking some questions that Anthony had hoped that he would never need to answer. It wasn't even that his son had been mad – actually, he'd acted very understanding and mature, once he had been clear that it was mostly due the bad memories that certain truths had never been voiced duiring their time together – but it had brought back memories, and those memories now haunted him in the form of nightmares.

Strictly speaking, nightmares shouldn't have been such a big deal, since Anthony could have easily skip sleeping –his body didn't actually require rest – but after so many years, daily sleeping periods had became an enjoyed habit, and losing them made him a bit cranky, as Aziraphale put it.

Speaking of Aziraphale… Since it was no use to try and fall asleep again – it was 5.30AM, already – Anthony decided that he should go and pay a little visit to the angel; maybe they could have some breakfast together.

After short drive to Soho, Anthony parked his car (there was always place for him, even during busiest hours), and crossed the street, only to stop short when he noticed an unconscious, naked body lying face down on the bookstore's porch.

Closer look provided that this wasn't (thank Someone!) Aziraphale, as he has thought for one panicked moment, but it was indeed someone he knew: Castiel, Aziraphale's younger brother, who had lately became part of their rag-tag family unit. And now that he thought about it, this wasn't even first time he had seen the angel in similar situation, although last time, he had still been clothed.

"What on Earth have you done this time?" Anthony groaned. He reached down to feel the pulse from the angel's neck, and was happy to found one: he was alive, at least, and seemed unharmed, even though he hadn't yet woken up. Anthony shrugged his own jacket off of his shoulders and tugged it around Castiel's body.

"Trying to give me heart-attack, aren't you?" he mumbled. "No matter; now just wait here while I go and get your brother to help me to carry you inside…"


They managed to get Castiel into same room where they had nursed him last time he'd been out-of-the-world. Aziraphale was immensely worried, and tried to make everything as comfortable as possible for his unconscious brother.

"Should I open the curtains…? No, that would be too much light; I will just open the blinds and leave curtains as they are… And should window be open or closed? Fresh air could be fine, but what about the pollution… and there could still be mosquitos, in this time of year… Those are very unpleasant bedfellows, or so I've heard… What do you think, dear?"

"About mosquitos or windows?" Antony asked while smiling fondly at his friend. "Az, Castiel will be fine; you don't need to go all mother-hen over him."

Aziraphale worried his lip between his teeth. "Are you sure? He looks so… helpless."

"He may look like a little kitten now, but you know that he's a tough guy; he'll pull it through."

"You're probably right… Have you any idea what could have happened to him? I know that he was up to something big, but he seemed so secretive about it so I didn't ask…"

Anthony shrugged. "I'm not privy to Heaven's business, either… But we could probably ask Fergus if he knows something. He and Castiel has been thick as thieves, lately."

Aziraphale smiled. "That's true. I know that most of my brethren would be shocked and upset by that short of friendship, but… I'm just happy to see our legacy going on."

"I know what you mean."

Aziraphale hesitated a moment before asking, "Speaking of Fergus, how has he taken, er… current revelations?"

"He's been… surprisingly understanding. Well, maybe it shouldn't be so surprising, really – he knows that there are memories that one would rather leave forgotten."

"I know it pains you, but… it's still his history, too. He has right to know."

"I know", Anthony mumbled. For a moment, he thought that maybe he could tell Aziraphale about his nightmares – since there was no way he could tell Fergus about them; poor boy would just blame himself for bringing back bad memories -, but Aziraphale was already worrying about his baby-brother. He didn't need Anthony's sleeping problems to add into his burdens.

"Let's grab some breakfast, shall we?" the demon said instead. "And then I could call to my son and ask if he has any idea of what mess Castiel has gotten himself this time…"


To say that Fergus was pissed would have been belittling; he was almost boiling with rage. From between all name-callings (Fergus used a lot wordings like "two-faced bastard", "back-stabbing thief", and "sneaky little skunk", although "Brutus" and "Judas" too came up repeatedly, as well as many other terms that his father didn't dare to recall), Anthony managed to patch up the story that filled him with dread, and which he now repeated to Aziraphale.

"As you know, my son and Castiel made a little trip to the Purgatory few weeks ago; now it seems that they bought something with them. Castiel apparently swallowed every single soul from Purgatory to gain enough power to beat some mutiny in Heaven – it seems like complicated thing, and Fergus was sidestepping it, so I think that something big has happened there after we last checked. Now, Fergus is pissed since he had thought that they could maybe share the souls – not that that's any better idea, and I even told him that – and to top the insult, duiring his power-trip Castiel dared to treat him like a servant or something. Later your brother game to his senses and tried to return the souls, only it didn't work completely and he ended up releasing Leviathans into the world, apparently dying in the process; Fergus said that he was literally tore apart."

"Oh, Heavens… poor Castiel. Yet it surprises me how well he has, erm… recovered from his traumatic experience."

"You think he got any help from… you know?"

Aziraphale hummed. "Well, I think that our Father has gotten soft spot for him… where ever He is.

Anthony smirked. "You totally know where that "where ever" is, don't you?"

"My lips are sealed, dear… And the Leviathans…?"

"Still out there. Fergus has been in contact with that group of Hunters that Castiel was friends with, and they're trying their best to keep damages under control, but…" Anthony shook his head.

"Leviathans on the loose are something that was never supposed to happen. Not only are they vicious, they're intelligent… Has Fergus had any contact with them?"

"Once; I got the idea that their boss insulted him."

Aziraphale smiled wryly. "I hope that you forgive me if I say that it pleases me to hear that; I really don't want your son to form any kind of alliance with those monsters."

"Neither do I… So, is there anything that we could do? Maybe convince "Him" deliver some more spontaneous Deus ex Machina's and whisk Leviathans back to where they belong to?"

Aziraphale shook his head. "You know He doesn't work that way, dear. What ever comes next, it's in our hands."

"So we're done?" Anthony summed.

Aziraphale patted the demon gently on the cheek. "We're never just "done"; as long as we keep trying, good things will happen."

"…You're so lame."

"Oh, hush!"


It took a week before Castiel woke up. Anthony happened to be the one on guard at that time (Aziraphale refused to leave Castiel all alone during days; what if he woke up and was thirsty? Confused? Scared?), and was reading to pass time when noise made him raise his head and met Castiel's sky-blue gaze. The angel seemed confused, like he had hard time to understand where he was.

"Hey", he said, not really sure how to act to not spook the other, "I see you woke up. Thirsty?" As Castiel just stared at him, he smiled little nervously. "Yeah. I just… I'll go and fetch your brother…"

"My… brother?" Castiel rasped, and something in his tone made Anthony cringe. This is no good…

"Yes, your brother. You know… blonde, little chubby? Wears tartan?" There was no recognition in Castiel's eyes. "Owns a bookstore – not that he ever sells anything?"

Castiel shook his head. "I… I'm sorry, I…"

Anthony sighed. "It's okay, buddy… We'll work this out."

Not good at all.


Another week went till Aziraphale decided that Castiel was strong enough to move around in the house, and even then he wasn't allowed to go outside alone, not even the yard. Castiel consented to this all, showing no distrust towards the person in whose house he had woken up and who supposedly was his brother. The younger angel was way too trusting, and Anthony didn't want to even think about what could have happened if he had ended up in someone else's porch.

They had decided to proceed slowly, especially in what came to the whole being angel -deal, and had so far covered only that Castiel came from very religious family and that many of them had a knack for miracles. Castiel accepted that easily enough.

Aziraphale read out all the books of amnesia that he could find and went even so far that consulted internet about the situation. When it came clear that hobbies had improving effect to the most of patient, he decided that Castiel needed one.

Too bad he decided that beekeeping was the best choice of hobby he could come up with…

"In Soho? Are you mad?" Anthony asked. He had came to visit like every other day, only to see that there were three beehives in Aziraphale's balcony.

"Why? I think it's a splendid idea. Castiel gets fresh air, company of fluffy animals…"

"Bees aren't fluffy…"

"… They are a bit… And I get honey to my tea!"

Anthony rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop himself smirking. "I should have guessed that… Angel, you've become creature, aren't you?"

Aziraphale huffed as if offended by the comment, but Anthony could see proud little smile tugging the corner of his mouth.


Fergus came to visit Castiel once, full of rage and ready to roast his ears with it. When Castiel had just looked at him with his kind, sorrowful eyes and offered him a can of honey (how did those little beast get so much made in such a short time? And where did they even found flowers, for Someone's sake!?) for any pains he may had caused, Fergus had stared at him almost scared look on his face before he just turned around and left almost as soon as came in.

After that, Fergus made point to not visit Aziraphale's house while Castiel still lodged there, and because Anthony's apartment had never been much of home but more like place for him to sleep and keep his plants, they arranged meetings all over the city, usually ending up into restaurants.

Anthony was little worried of his son denying to talk about anything even slightly related to Castiel. Fergus didn't usually be silent about his grudges: "prompt revenge, and then move forward" was more of his style. Of course Anthony was happy that he hadn't tried to kill the angel or even hurt him, but… It just didn't feel like a healthy way to handle his anger.

Aziraphale, of course, refused to see the problem. "They will set it right, dear", he reassured. "Fergus feels betrayed, and he has right to be so; we both know that he doesn't trust easily, but he was ready to trust in Castiel – mostly because he saw him harmless, I would think. But I'm sure that once Castiel's back to normal, and Fergus sees how remorseful he is about that whole mess, they will make it up and be friends again."

Anthony decided to not point out that Fergus wasn't very good at all that "forgive and forget" -business.

But not so bad, if not something good, too: Anthony was delighted to notice of how fondly his son was talking about this elder hunter, Bobby Singer. It was clear that Fergus had took shine to him, and once he met the man in flesh (or in mind), he could see why: man was like a grumpy old bear (which would make him fun to tease), but he was also resourceful and had an intelligent mind that Anthony could clearly see his son approving… that, and he knew that Fergus was little weak to men with a beard. Above all that, man was very kind-hearted (though he tried to hide it, with little succeed), and people usually take appeal of the qualities that they themselves lack in other people… or that's the conclusion he had gotten during all these years of observing humankind.


Some more time passed, and Castiel's memories begin to return – in the worst possible way.

Antony had just waken up from another nightmare, and was now pondering if he should go downstairs to spent some time with Aziraphale – the angel never understood the appeal of sleeping – when a noise coming from Castiel's room got his attention. Sounded like the younger angel was taking to someone, yet he should be alone and resting at this time of night (as Castiel still thought that he was just ordinary – yet spiritually gifted – human, his body reacted to this by obeying basic human needs, like sleeping and eating). Besides, Castiel's voice had sounded pleading and almost… terrified.

Worried, Anthony sneaked in the angel's room, only to find him trashing around on his bed, skin glistering with sweat and pained frown on his face.

Anthony had no much knowledge of how one should usually act in this situation – did people really die on heart attack or something if they were woken up during nightmare? Or was that just sleepwalking? – but he knew very well how horrible nightmares could get, so he took the glass of water from the nightstand and plashed is contents on Castiel's face.

The angel jumped up immediately, eyes wide and breath hiving.

"Hey", Anthony said nervously, "…you okay? Because that sounded like a one intense nightmare you had there."

Castiel just stared at him, tears in his eyes and looking like a scared, sad (and wet) puppy. He was so pathetic sight, that it almost made Anthony to sit down and give him a hug (but just "almost". He wasn't Aziraphale – well, neither of them was). "Would you like to talk about it?" he asked instead. Castiel shook his head. "…Should I call Aziraphale here?" Another headshake.

Anthony sighed. Not knowing what else to do, he sat down on chair beside Castiel's bed and reached out to ruffle his messed hair. "It's okay, kid… I understand."

Castiel tensed a bit before starting to relax. It didn't take him long to fall asleep again.

Anthony took more comfortable position and decided to stay on watch… just in case.


"Do you have a nightmares too?"

Castiel gazed into Anthony's eyes (that were hidden behind his sunglasses, which did nothing to decrease the effect), his head tilted and expression pleading.

"What?" Anthony asked, looking nervously around the kitchen and hoping that Aziraphale wouldn't suddenly come in and hear their conversation.

"Last night you said that you understand. Is that what you meant?" Castiel pushed on.

Anthony sighed. "Yeah. Well, mine are more of memories than dreams, but… yeah."

Castiel nodded. "It's okay", he said, and then, whispering, "I think that mine are memories, too."


Next night, Anthony wasn't all that surprising when Castiel knocked his bedroom's door and came in, holding his pillow against his chest. They ended up walking back to his room, Castiel laying down on his bed and Anthony again taking his previous seat.

"Could you… tell me about your nightmare?" Castiel asked nervously.

Anthony sighed. "It's… uneventful, really. I woke in the bottom of deep, dark, cold, lifeless sea. I know that I'm casted there as a punishment of something that hasn't yet happen and it's unclear if it ever does. I call my loved ones, even though I know they can't hear me or come to my rescue. I'm all alone, scared and hungry…" he shrugged. "Then I wake up… eventually."

"Your worst fear is isolation", Castiel summed up with his mournful voice. "… Did it really happen? You said it was memory."

"It did. Long, long time ago… You do realize that I'm no ordinary human, don't you?"

Castiel nodded. "Same goes to Aziraphale and me, right? We are all something else." He tilted his head, and looked at Anthony, thoughtful frown on his face. "But you're not same as us, aren't you?"

Anthony shook his head. "No, I'm not. Not at first, after all."

"Tell me?" And those puppy-dog eyes, who could say "no" to them…?

Anthony could, probably, but he decided to tell him anyway. "The sea I was cast was the sea of chaos, where all the possibilities of what could be lay till they're called aboard. I layed there… who know how long? Time has no meaning there… there, time doesn't even exist. I was lost myself, forgotten my name and those who I once hold dear… Until on day, I heard the voice…"

"What did it say?"

Anthony smirked, wistfully. "'Let there be light'." He could feel how Castiel suddenly sat more straight, but didn't really see him… His eyes were looking at the scenario of at the beginning, when the first light of the first day had touched the bottom of the sea and warmed his chilled scales. "And after that came more, a lot more… the voice kept speaking, calling a new world out of the sea of chaos… And I knew that this was my change, maybe the only I could ever have… So I use all the strength that I had left, and grabbed this new world, bit down to it to drink of the power that was used to make it. I drank, till I got heavy with it, and kept drinking, because my thirst was too great to be quenched. And finally, when I was half sick with my excessive, I quit, and let this new world carry me away with it."

Castiel was quiet, but Anthony hardly even remembered that he was there anymore, and just kept talking. "He – the voice – created many kinds of creatures; and some of them he saw unworthy and cast away (and those became all the monsters that dwell in the shadows of the world) and others, that he deemed worthy and created a home to them; it was called Heaven." Anthony couldn't help but smiling. "It was beautiful place, back then… full of light, and laugh, and music. It bought back memories of my own family, which I doubted I could ever found again… And so, I abandoned my old vessel, and using all that left-over power I had got from creating (He called it Grace), I took a form just like theirs, and went to them; and they called me brother." Something made his eyes sting, and he brushed it off with his sleeve (it wasn't tears; he weren't crying, he was a demon, for Someones sake!). "So… that's what happened. You know the rest; they made a Book about it all… three Books, actually. All bestsellers. One of them can be found of almost every house all over the globe…"

"Crowley."

Anthony blinked his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"You're Crowley; I remember you now", Castiel said. His voice was… same, yes, yet… different. Rougher. "Snake of Eden; friend of Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate… You two stopped an Apocalypse together."

"Well, actually, it was mostly Adam who…"

"Then I did the same… with Dean and Sam Winchester… Bobby Singer… and your son, Fergus… All my friends…" Castiel's concentrated look turned into pained one. "I betrayed them all. I released Leviathans into the world…"

Anthony patted him on the shoulder. "Hey, it's all fine… well, maybe not – but you'll find a way to redeem yourself! Damn, I such at this… What if I just fetch Aziraphale to you…?"

Castiel looked little nervous. "Is he very disappointed with me?"

"Who, Aziraphale? Nah, right now he'll just be happy that you're okay. He may, of course, give you lecture about recklessness later, but you'll just need to stand it thorough like a man…"

"But I'm not a man", Castiel pointed out, and Anthony needed to actually look at him and see that proudly devious little smile on the angels face to be sure that he had just cracked a joke.

"I say… You know what, I think that your kind may actually have a hope!" he laughed. "Now wait there, and I'll call your brother up here… He'll be so surprised…!"

Castiel smiled and leaned back against his pillows. "Yes… I would like to see Aziraphale."


"So you remember, then?" Fergus hissed with poison in his voice, looking just as threatening that anyone can while sitting in Aziraphale's kitchen and holding a fragile little teacup in one hand and a muffin in other (which would had made anyone else looked just stupid, but somehow he could pull it thorough).

"I do", Castiel admitted. "I'm sorry."

"Well, sorry doesn't really cover this, or what you say?"

Aziraphale and Anthony watched them quietly; they had decided that it wouldn't be wise to leave "children" without any supervision, but weren't going to interfere, at least as long as no-one was in danger to die.

Castiel frowned guiltily. "I know. I've caused a lot of troubles to everyone; but right now, I'm not making apologizes about Leviathans. Or what happened in Heaven. Or what I did while I – while I thought that I could be the next God. Right now, I'm… I'm just apologizing for you. For betraying you. For not being a better friend…"

"FRIEND! Take the pixie dust out of your eyes, feathers! We were never friends! I just used you to reach my goals; it just bugs me off that you went and double-crossed me before I had a change to do that to you!"

He's bluffing, Anthony wanted to point out. Really, he's not meaning what he says… please, Castiel, don't let him scare you off!

It seemed that Castiel knew his son better than said son had thought. "I don't believe that that's all it was", Castiel said calmly. "But even if it was, my apology stays. You might or might not have seen me as your friend, but I did see myself as friend of yours; and at the end, I wasn't being as good friend as I thought I was."

Aziraphale squeezed Anthony's hand and gave him a teary smile; his angel was such a softie! But Anthony himself couldn't help but smile, either…

Fergus stared at Castiel, clearly thrown off balance and unsure of how he should react to that confession; Castiel met his eyes earnestly.

Finally Fergus put his teacup down and started to massage his temples, moaning of defeat. "That's not fair!" he whined. "You shouldn't be able to face your mistakes so straight-forward; you should be covering and making excuses! That way, I could at least scream at you…"

"I'm sorry", Castiel said, with straight face.

Fergus laughed dryly. "Becoming a real comedian, eh…? … Fine, fine! But don't you think that you're out of bush, yet! You can be sure that I'll find some way to revenge this, understand?"

"I wouldn't expect nothing less."

"Well, as long as that's settled… Surely you do understand that I'm not going to trust you ever again, right?" This time, Fergus voice was almost regretful.

Castiel sighed, but braised himself. "I know; 'fool me once…'"

Fergus smirked. "Well, you sure have grown a lot… Well, then; when are you planning to tell Dean and Not-Dean that you're still, miraculously, at the land of living~?"

They could all see how Castiel suddenly paled a bit.


As it turned out, that decision eventually wasn't in Castiel's hands…