The first bad omen was Abaddon, though no-one of them realized that at the time. Castiel only heard about the demons return in passing, and as soon as her name was mentioned it was already assured that Winchesters had taken care of her.

Then came the angel.

Castiel met him at a regular Friday afternoon, while he was doing the shopping. Aziraphale had finally given up of trying to get Castiel invested in the world of culinary pleasures, but he still insisted that the younger angel could at least go to buy groceries in his turn, of which Castiel had nothing against.

While in the shop, Castiel had stopped to look at the pies, thinking which one of them would have been Dean's favourite and if he should buy him one, some day; or maybe he could ask Fergus to teach him how to bake one, the demon had gotten quite talented with his cooking lately…

"That looks delicious", someone said behind him.

Castiel turned around and saw a short man with a curly graying hair smiling at him in what clearly tried to be calming way. The closer look told Castiel all he really needed to know: the man was an angel.

After seeing Castiel's expression turning to sour, the strange angel lifted his hands in to air. "I seek no harm", he quickly assured.

"Pardon if I find that hard to believe; I'm not in Heaven's good graces right now."

"Well, what do you know! Really? With all fraternizing with mortals, traitor angels and demons?" the angel said sarcastically. As Castiel frown got darker, he laughed nervously. "That's not I came to talk with you! Honestly! You see… I too haven't been in good graces with Heaven for a some time, myself."

Castiel was doubtful. "Really?"

"Really. But… Maybe not talk about it here? There's a nice café nearby… very good cherry pie…"

Castiel wasn't sure what it was in this angel that made him feel so distrustful. Even while he knew that the vast majority of his siblings wanted him dead, he would always give them a change… But now every nerve of his body was telling him to get as far from this angel as possible. Maybe it was his act, how he looked all harmless and nervous – too much so, in the way that made him feel insincere and… oily. It somehow reminded him of Fergus, even though the angel lacked his regality.

"I'm sorry, I really need to go", Castiel said and took few steps backwards.

The angel sighed. "Really, Castiel? I thought you would have been little more inclined to listen what I have to say… Considering how messy the situation is upstairs right now, and how most of it is your fault…"

The reminding of his wrongdoings made Castiel squirm, and in any other situation he would probably have given up… but he remembered what Dean had said, about how he shouldn't do anything considering the situation in Heaven before consulting someone beforehand, and by that he'd meant someone he was close with.

"I'm sorry", he repeated.

The angel watched him with a disappointed eyes. "I see. You know, I could have helped you to atone your sins against our kind, but… Well, at least I tried…"

You're not buying me with that tactic, Castiel thought dryly. I've lived with Fergus, and he's hundreds of times more effective salesperson than you…

The angel huffed. "Well, if you change your mind", he said and took a business card from his pocket, offering it to Castiel, "You know who to contact."

Castiel looked at him cautiously before accepting the card. There was only a phone number and and one name written under it.

Metatron.

When Castiel looked up again, the angel had already disappeared.


Castiel wasn't sure why he didn't mention his meeting with Metatron to his family right away. Partly it probably was because he didn't want to pointlessly worry them; but part of him had to admit that he was little tired to be handled like a toddler, unable to do his own decisions. I won't tell them, but I'm not contacting him, either, he assured himself. No harm done.

Then they all got other things to worry about when Abaddon escaped, and with a help of dukes and lords of Hell ("Hastur", Antony muttered darkly, and Castiel saw how his yellow eyes turned to green as poison), she took over the Hell, forcing Fergus to run for his life. They were all relieved to learn that he was now staying with Winchester's in their bunker, irritated and probably driving the hunters nuts with his barbs but at least safe, for a while.

Castiel visited him once, after he'd been on exile almost a week.

Any other time being this close to Dean would have taken all his attention, but this time all he could think about was his demonic almost-brother, who kept ranting for him about traitors (Abaddon and her allies) and idiots (AKA Dean and Sam, who had let that bitch to escape). Castiel juts sat there, listening and hoping that that was enough, since he'd no idea what else to say. He could understand the pain of being in exile, but he also know that for Fergus the worst part was his wounded ego and lose of his kinghood, not the lost of home itself – especially since he'd never considered Hell as a home, in the first place.

"All I did for them – rising them up from that mundane existence, giving place for ideas and innovation, leading them out of the Dark Ages to the present day world… And then that bint comes back, and they're all begging for her to drag them back to the pit!"

"All of them?" Castiel asked.

"Well, not all, maybe… I think that at least most of the younger demons prefer me over her; but it's not like they stood to help me, either! Those self-preserving bastards…"

"Well, maybe they'll come back to you, once Abaddon's rule gets them riled up enough to gather courage to work against her."

"Hah! Like I would take them under my wing ever again!"

But you would, Castiel thought. You yearn too much their admiration and attention to deny them.

Of course, he hadn't said that out aloud. He had just nodded and listened some more, hoping that Dean and Sam weren't so close observing their conversation so that he could have given Fergus a hug, like the demon has once given for him, when they'd learned about Gabriel's death. Fergus would of course call it pointless, but Castiel know that he would like it; like he never shooed away his father when Anthony hugged him, and while he rolled his eyes, Castiel had seen how his whole body relaxed in the embrace.

So Castiel couldn't hug him, but before leaving he squeezed his hand, firmly, hoping that it was enough; and since Dean's daily phone calls after that contained much less complains about the demons behaviour than before, he presumed that maybe it did.


The Nephilim was found death in the alley near of Aziraphale's shop, her beating heart ripped out of her chest. It made them all little tense, and gave Castiel minor existential crises.

As an angel, Castiel had always held little to no love towards Nephilim, forbidden fruits of the love between angels and humans. But after he'd became close with Fergus, who, beside being a demon was also a Nephilim, he started to doubt his earlier acts towards their race. Was it really necessary to kill the children, innocent of their parent's crimes, just for the sin of sheer existence?

For that, he'd no answer but one… and it made him duck his head with shame.

Then the cupid was found killed near Anthony's apartment – nameless vessel with spread wings of ash - and this time Castiel was sure that this was no coincidence. Someone had leaved a message to them, the "I know where you live" kind of message. But who? Abaddon wouldn't waste time for games like this: if she knew where they (and especially Anthony) lived, she would already had attacked them, in hopes of torment the location of Fergus from them.

So maybe it was Heaven? Castiel knew better than anyone that killing wasn't as big deal for them as he'd once idealistically thought; but while he could understand them leaving a dead Nephilim for them as a message, the meaning of Cupid fell flat. If he was left there as a warning for traitors, should they had chosen someone they could recognize as one? It made no sense.

Castiel still had one suspect to take account, though…


"Aziraphale… what do you know about angel called Metatron?"

The usually so calm-looking angel's face adapted an interesting reddish tone and his eyes went hard and cold. "Why would you ask me about person like that?" Aziraphale asked, looking kind of furious.

Ah. Time for a white lie, then… "Dean has asked me of an outsight of the current powerhouses of Heaven. You think that he could be one? I know he used to be Scribe of God, so maybe he has enough leverage to become one…"

"I surely hope no! Last time he was in any position of power, he burnt down my bookshop!" Aziraphale huffed.

"In another timeline, angel", Anthony reminded before continuing, "There's no reason to be worried about him, currently; when Adam rewrote the world, he kind of… removed his privileges. I think he now left Heaven soon after He went to his, ahem, vacation."

"I see." Castiel still had hard time to wrap his thoughts around the fact that Antichrist really held such a power that it allowed him to bend the laws of cause and effect.

"And that's good!" Aziraphale said firmly. "He was really up to the Apocalypse, even more than Mikael at the time! And even before that, he was totally intolerable, always bragging around how he was Father's most trusted angel and how He told him secrets that were never revealed to us others…"

"Oh, come on, angel! The reason you truly hate him is because he dares to tell everyone that he has read more books than any other angel", Anthony teased him fondly.

"What a lie! He doesn't come even near… and the only reason he has read so much is because all he reads is rubbish that takes no brains or heart to understand…"

"Yes, yes… I'll just go and fix you a nice cup of tea", Antony told and winked at Castiel before making his exit.


After that, Castiel was halfway sure that Metatron was the culprit he was looking for. Only question left was what he should do with that knowledge.

Wisest thing would be to talk about it with someone; but, as Fergus often enough had said, Castiel was rarely doing the wisest thing. The demon himself was out of the question, and he didn't want to bring Aziraphale and Anthony into this, considering how his mere presence in the bookshop had already caused them enough troubles.

Then he thought about Dean, all the way across the sea, and how he would became all worried if Castiel told him the situation he was in, and would want to come and help him…

No, not that: Castiel wasn't some maiden in distress, who needed Dean to come and safe the day. He could handle this by himself.

Castiel twiddled Metatron's business card between his fingers…


They met each other on an abandoned building site. Metatron came alone, prove of either his sincerity or superiority, or of sheer arrogance. Castiel doubted the first and hoped for the last, but was afraid of the middle one.

"Why?" he asked right away. "Why kill the cupid?"

Metatron sighed. "You really aren't giving me a benefit of doubt, are you, Castiel?"

"No games, Metatron. What are you planning?"

"I already told you once, didn't I? I'm restoring the Heaven, giving a little lesson to those stuck-ups up There!"

"And for that you need to kill the innocents?" Castiel pressed on.

Metatron spread his arms and looked forlorn. "Great archives always need sacrifices, dear boy."

Castiel frowned at him. "You're disgusting."

"Ah, ah, ah! Don't play all high and mighty for me, Castiel! Didn't you, yourself, spilt the blood of innocents duiring your little power trip on godhood? How many of our brothers did you kill – dozens? Hundreds? I don't think that you're in any position to scorn me, boy!"

Castiel once again felt the weight of his past decisions on his shoulders, pressing his spirit down. "I –"

Metatron smiled at him benevolently. "See? We are no different, you and I. We both have high ideals, the vision of Heaven restored in it's full potential, ruling over the masses, spreading peace and justice to the world… It's our duty to remove the obstacles on our way, Castiel, to make that bright future come on true!" The angel reached his hand towards Castiel. "So what do you say? Will you join me, and pay back for your past mistakes?"

Castiel looked at the offered hand. It was… tempting, what Metatron was saying; change for redemption… But…

"I have made lots of mistakes; you're right on that… but… That won't mean that I have to do the same mistakes all over again, or let someone else to do so! Metatron, I've come to stop you!" Castiel let the angel blade drop from his sleeve to his palm.

The Metatron withdrew his hand, shaking his head with a sad and disappointed look on his face. "I see… Then Castiel, you leave me no choises… I would preferred to let you live on, but… You'll be the last trial." Metatron made a gesture with his hand, and Castiel felt a great pressure hammer against his chest, throwing him down and holding him against the ground. "Surprised? Did you think that I've no tricks on my sleeve, boy? I was the Scripter of God, his favourite son… Did you think that I was that powerless?!"

Castiel couched; he could feel his ribs cracking under the pressure.

"I have acquired the heart of a Nephilim and Cupid's bow… Now only ingredient I need to complete the spell is angel's Grace… Your Grace, Castiel", Metatron said, and knelt down beside him, looking at him with feigned compassion. "I'm so sorry, boy; I still think that we two would have made great deeds together." He put a hand into his pocket, pulling out an sizable injection needle…

"Hold it right there!"

Metatron whipped his head around, his eyes going wide as he saw group of angels surrounding them. "How…?"

Castiel couched a little more. "What took you so long, Hannah?" he asked with a tired smile.

Metaron turned back to glare at him. "You-!"

"What? Did you miscalculate? Thought that there was no angel left ready to aid me?"

"Release him, Metatron", Hannah stated. "You're overpowered." The other angels beside her held their angel blade's threateningly pointed towards the rogue angel.

Metatron looked livid, his vessel practically shaking from wrath; then, suddenly, he relaxed, and Castiel felt how the pressure pushing him down was lifted. Metatron sighed and shrugged his shoulders: "I know when to give up."

He seemed way too unconcerned for Castiel's taste, but other angel's were already tying him up so he had no time to complain. And then they were gone… all but Hannah.

"You took a great risk", Hannah said as she kneeled beside him, checking him for injuries.

"I knew you would come", Castiel answered.

"And that exactly what I meant! You couldn't possibly knew that I would come. Even after getting your message, I still waited to the last possible moment before deciding if I should help you or not…"

"But you did", Castiel reminded her. "I knew you would; I trusted in you."

Hannah looked at him with an inscrutable expression upon her face, before asking simply, "Can you stand?"

With Hannah's aid, Castiel managed to stood up. He cringed a bit of the pain caused by his cracked ribs, but was relieved since there seemed to be no further damages. "… You should go."

Hannah bite her lip. "You should come with me."

Castiel shook his head. "There's nothing left for me in Heaven, Hannah…"

"It's your home!"

Castiel remembered Heaven, all bright and white and full of Grace… and how stained, how poisoned It's heart had became, even though the shine still remained; and how they just kept on living, repeating their old customs never changing anything, never moving forward…

"No", he said, "not any more."

"Not even me?"

Castiel turned to look at her, surprised to see hurt look on her face. Tilting his head, he reached out his hand and touched her cheek. "Hannah…"

The other angel shook her head. "We need you, Castiel; me and the others. We're ready to fight on your side, once again…"

Castiel gave her a sad smile. "But I'm not ready for that; not now, maybe never again."

"Is it because how messed up it all went? You made mistake, Castiel! There's no shame admitting it; we still know that you're the one who can lead us…"

"To what? A civil war? … No, Hannah; please don't tempt me. I not the angel I once was…"

Hannah looked at him, her expression once again closed, voice formal and restrained. "No, you aren't, are you? You have lost your spirit… Condemned yourself into someone lesser that you could be…"

"If I have, then it was my decision to do."

"I could arrest you, you know? There are many in Heaven who would like to see you punished…"

"Then you do what you see right; I'm not stopping you, Hannah. I know my sins."

Hannah was quiet. Then, "I pity you, Castiel."

then she, too, was gone.


It went without saying that Aziraphale wasn't happy at all after hearing Castiel's little adventure. "For all silly things you could possibly have done-! Young angel, I should put you on time-out for that!"

"Angel, I really think he's outgrown the age when you can do that…", Anthony tried to calm him down.

"Hah! You only stopped to threaten Fergus with time-out when he became a king of Hell!"

"What has that to do with anything?"

Dean wasn't any better, once Castiel gathered enough courage to call to him.

"Cass! You promised me that you wouldn't do anything stupid!"

"But it wasn't stupid, Dean; I knew all the risk, and decided that it was worth of trying."

"You could have been killed! That Hannah could have decided to stood you up, and this Metatron bastards would have taken your Grace!"

"But…"

"And you even offered her to change to arrest you!" Dean shouted.

"But she didn't."

"But You didn't know that!"

"But I trusted in her."

He could hear Dean's harsh breathing across the line. "Cass", he finally said, now with much lower voice, "you need to stop taking risks like that. We could have lost you…"

"But…"

"I could have lost you!" Dean shouted with hoarse voice. "Cass, don't make me lose you…"

"Dean, are you… Are you crying…?"

"Of course I'm not, you stupid little angel!" Dean cried at him. "You better learn to take better care of yourself, because next time you did anything as stupid as this, I'm going to come there and drag you back home with me, understood?!"

Castiel felt warmness fill himself, starting from chest and spreading thorough his whole body. "I promise, Dean."


As it happened, the next one to do something stupid wasn't Castiel; no, it had to be Fergus.

And once they had dragged the cured Nephilim in to his bed, Castiel took the phone and readied himself to tell the soon-to-be-panicked father that his son was currently unconscious, and they had no idea of in what state of mind he would open his eyes – that's it, if he would ever open them again…