What's the phrase? One step forward and two steps back?

One Wing in the Fire (7)

Amon had told Castiel to never, ever enter his harem. And Castiel had obeyed those orders mostly because he had no desire whatsoever to see said harem.

But three months after meeting Veles, on one particularly slow afternoon, the Demon Lord of Wrath and Revenge apparently changed his mind.

That slow afternoon he was lying on the floor on the Recreational Room—a circular room with a soft carpet floor and all sorts of electronic play things, including the largest television screen Castiel had ever seen. He was flat on his back, wings spread out across the floor as far as they would go, fingers turning a metal set of puzzle rings over and over in his hands in the air above his chest. Veles, who had grown slowly over the past three months and was now the size of a regular hell hound pup, was pawing lazily at the feathers of his right wing with one paw. He still tried to take Castiel's wings in his teeth every so often but every time he did the former angel would quickly smack him with said wing and that was usually enough to stop the pup.

Castiel's hair was now a deep chocolate brown that was slowly edging towards black, the demon taint on his Grace digging in further and deeper than ever. He could feel it, writhing inside him like a poison. And yet, somehow, it didn't bother him. Just like it didn't bother him that Amon had been ranting for nearly an hour about how completely pointless and dull the day was. Astaroth had, once again, gotten into another spat with Ruby and this time had managed to take out part of a wall in his frustration. Castiel, who had never seen the younger Demon Lord lose his temper, was keeping well hidden and out of the way.

"Hey, Cas," Amon said abruptly from his seat against the wall, there was no furniture in the Recreational Room.

"Yes, Amon?"

"I'm going to take you to see my harem."

Silence for a moment and then, "Oh."

"What's the matter, Cas?" Amon's voice had a joking tone in it, "You're not scared are you?"

"No." Castiel replied flatly, frowning at the ceiling. He felt Veles nip at his wingtips and snapped it at the hell hound's jaw. Veles let out a disgruntled grumble and put his head on his paws, trying to beg.

"Then let's go." Amon leapt from the wall, grabbed Castiel's sleeve, and used his demonic strength to haul the former angel to his feet and drag him out the room. Veles trotted after them, long tail wagging and tongue lolling out between his iron teeth.

"Amon," Castiel murmured as they mounted the stairs, the Demon Lord still clutching at the fabric of the former angel's trenchcoat, "I am…uncomfortable with this."

"What, they don't have harems in Heaven?" Amon flashed a grin over his shoulder, the belts lashed across his face twisting as his lips peeled back to reveal rows of sharp teeth, "Never did a little 'cloud seeding', Cas? Didn't get your wing kink on, mm?"

Castiel felt a heat creeping up his neck and blossoming in his cheeks and averted his gaze. He could have told Amon that angels did not indulge in such vulgar activities. But that would have been a lie, "I never found the time. We were at war with Hell, there was no time for…for cloud seeding."

"All right, all right, don't get your feathers in a bunch." Amon chuckled, slowing as they reached the large door to his harem. But as he reached a clawed hand towards the handle, he froze and rounded on Castiel, "Wait, are you telling me you're a virgin?"

The hot feeling on Castiel's face deepened and he shuffled his feet across the floor, dropping his gaze once again to sweep along the walls. His ebony black wings fluttered in what he realized was embarrassment and a small puff of feathers drifted to the carpeted hall floor.

"Holy shit, Cas, you're a fucking virgin!" Amon let out a barking laugh that rang down the hall, tail lashing behind him. Veles started barking and jumping around the hem of Castiel's trenchcoat as the Demon Lord roared his amusement to the rafters. Castiel frowned, embarrassment changing into a chagrined disapproval.

"There is nothing wrong with being pure, Amon." The former angel huffed, wings bristling behind him and making him look like a puffed up, angry bird.

"Being pure!" Amon howled, nearly doubled over in his fit of mirth, small tears of liquid fire bubbling over the belts on his face, "He calls it being pure! Somebody stop him, I'm going to die! I'm going to die laughing! Hell-fucking-fire, Castiel!" And he collapsed into another gasping round of laughter, arms wrapped around his middle, his arrow-tipped tail tearing streaks into the carpet behind his boots as he pounded it into the floor.

"Amon," Castiel had gone beyond annoyance and was starting to feel genuinely hurt, "I would very much appreciate it if you stopped laughing." The Demon Lord kept it up and Castiel scowled, shoulders hunching and wings flaring, "Amon. Amon, please stop."

There was a sudden snarl and Amon's laughter abruptly became a yelp of surprise as Veles leapt at him. The hell hound's paws thudded into the demon's chest and they both crashed to the floor. Veles was snarling, smoky body swirling, claws batting at Amon's face as the Demon Lord tried to get his arm up and block the hound's assault.

"Get him off! Ow! Fuck, Cas, get him—aaahhhggg!"

Castiel leapt forward, not even sparing a thought to wonder why Amon hadn't simply blasted Veles into oblivion. He wrapped his arms around the hell hound's middle and hauled him off of Amon. Veles calmed almost immediately but his ears remained flattened against his skull and his iron teeth were showing in an angry snarl. Castiel set the hound down and snapped at him to go wait in his room. Veles slunk away, tail between his legs, smoky hackles puffed up, glaring and growling over his bulky shoulders as he went.

That done, Castiel instantly returned his attention to Amon, who was curled on the floor, hands pressed against his face. He knelt by the Demon Lord's side and set a hesitant hand on his shoulder, "Amon? Are you all right?"

"Don't look." It was a painful, weak sound that hissed from underneath Amon's hands and Castiel was shocked by how scared and how human it sounded. He chanced a glance at the Demon Lord's soul and, sure enough, the light was flickering through again, wavering and pulsing with a forgotten terror. Something had scared the humanity that still lingered in Amon.

Castiel thought he had a pretty good idea of what it was.

"Amon," He said in what he hoped was a soothing voice (it was hard to tell, his voice had become as guttural as the Demon Lords'), "If Veles hurt you, we should get you to a healer."

"I said don't look." Amon growled. He still had not moved from his position on the floor and Castiel could see dark crimson blood beginning to drip through the demon's fingers.

"Amon—."

"Go away."

"No. You are hurt."

"Get away from me."

"No."

"Go. Away."

"No."

"I said," Amon hissed, "Go. AWAY!"

Wings exploded into being, meathook ends scraping the stone walls and raising sparks. The force knocked Castiel backwards and his own wings flared to try and catch his balance. He slammed against the opposite wall and let out a gasp and his feathers crunched painfully together. And then he gasped again when he saw Amon. The Demon Lord had dragged himself to his feet, seething in anger, forked tongue licking at the blood around his lips. But what stole Castiel's attention was Amon's face.

Veles' assault had torn free several of the belts that had criss-crossed Amon's features and left them scattered on the floor and dangling down the sides of his face, caught with remaining belts or on his horns. The face beneath was—dark crimson skin and sharp teeth aside—undeniably human. It was not a mockery of a human face, like Alistar's. It was human. The green glow of rage was still in Amon's eyes but, cast against his full features, Castiel could clearly see the humanity they had once held. The former angel stared openly at the exposed face of the once human Demon Lord and his Grace swelled against the taint in it, pulsing, tendrils reaching for the confused and terrified light in Amon's hellfire coated soul.

The energies brushed and something unreadable flitted across Amon's face.

At the same moment, Castiel knew, without even the shadow of a doubt, what Amon's human name had been.

And before he could stop himself, before any part of him could start screaming that it was a bad idea, his lips had parted and a single word had drifted out on the barest hint of a whisper that still seemed as though it had been shouted to the Heavens,

"Dean."

Several emotions flashed through Amon's eyes in a very small amount of time; confusion, understanding, shock, recognition, and then an unbridled fury.

He let out a scream that no human throat could have made and launched himself at Castiel. The former angel barely had time to throw his arms up defensively before the Demon Lord came crashing down on him. Wings beat against him, hooked ends tearing into clothes and skin, fists beat at him, and that ruby tipped scepter pounded against his skin.

When it was over, Castiel was left curled on the floor much as Amon had been a few moments earlier, arms wrapped around his head, knees to his chest, wings twitching. His eyes were squeezed shut and it was probably for the better because he would not have liked to see the horridly furious expression on Amon's face that was twisting those human features into an ugly mask of hatred.

"If I see you in my presence again," The Demon Lord of Wrath and Revenge spat, "I will kill you. I don't give a fuck what you are. I will rip off your wings, angel, feather by feather, until you fall."

Castiel did not answer. He remained curled on the floor until Amon had given him a disgusted snort and stomped off. The former angel waited until he was sure that the Demon Lord was gone before he moved. Everywhere hurt and he would probably bruise (he didn't doubt he'd broken something), but he had learned something valuable.

He had learned Amon's real name.

Dean.

Dean and Sam.

Now if only he could get them to remember who they used to be.

Beaten and bruised, it seemed like an impossible task, especially when Castiel himself had no idea who they had been before falling into the dark fires of Hell.