I'm kind of getting back into this again. Which is good. I guess. However, I just realized that I don't think this is going to be as long as I thought it would be. (shrugs)

One Wing in the Fire (8)

Castiel did not see Amon for several weeks.

Not that he went looking. In fact, he made sure to stay far away from Amon's usual haunts, knowing that the Demon Lord would very likely hold up on his promise to kill Castiel. So the former angel kept mostly to his room, the library, or stuck with Astaroth if he did have to leave. Veles, apparently sensing his mood, was grumpy and would stretch out across the floor in Castiel's way, trying to get attention. And, growing at the rapid rate he had been (now the size of a large sheep), he was doing a very good job of getting in the way.

Castiel ran his fingers through the hell hound's smoke-like fur. The former angel was sprawled against the headboard of his four-poster bed, black wings draped over the sides to trail across the floor. Veles was stretched in front of him, back paws dangling over the edge of the bed and his head and shoulders resting on Castiel's lap, forepaws tangled in the former angel's trenchcoat. Castiel's fingers were pushed into the smoky fur around the hell hound's ears, ruffling it in what he found was a surprisingly soothing manner.

"Dean…" Castiel whispered, brow furrowed as he sought through centuries of angelic knowledge, "Sam…Sam and Dean…" He hummed quietly as he tried to think, but nowhere could he recall ever hearing about two humans becoming a couple of Demon Lords. Either their descent into Hell had been too long ago or Heaven had been too busy with its war to notice.

Veles let out huffy grunt and nudged Castiel's immobile hand to get him to start petting again. The tainted angel looked down at the hell hound sprawled across his lap with a small smile tugging at his lips. If any of his brothers would have told him that he would one day be a guest in the house of a couple of demon brothers with a hell hound for a pet and actually enjoying himself…he would have requested that they be removed from the garrison for rehabilitation efforts. Thinking of home put a damper on Castiel's spirits. It had been a year or two (maybe even three) since he'd been captured and he had seen no sign of a rescue.

He was beginning to wonder if he brothers even cared.

The thought caused a searing ache in his Grace and he closed his eyes, fingers digging deep into Veles' fur. Of course his brothers cared but no angel had ever broken into Hell before, not even Michael. But the more Castiel thought about it, the more confused about his feelings he became. He missed Heaven and his brothers terribly but Amon and Astaroth had become a project of Castiel's, a goal he was working towards. There was a part of him, somewhere, a small, illogical part, that believed that if he could get the brothers to remember who they had been then they would release him back to his family.

But he also cared about them. He cared about a couple of Demon Lord brothers.

Castiel didn't know how he should feel.

"Amon?"

Castiel looked up as Astaroth's voice echoed through the quiet library. The former angel was sitting in his favorite corner, curled up with a book about deals and the proper way to go about them. Veles was sleeping in his room, a week later and twice that size he had been. He had not spoken to Amon since their fight and he was finding himself hard pressed to want to do so any time soon. Whether out of fear or frustration, he didn't know.

"Amon? I seriously doubt you're in here but…Amon! Ammmooooonnn? Amo—oh, hey Cas."

"Hello Astaroth."

The Demon Lord of Fear and Chaos looked harassed and agitated. His black eyes were clouded, his brow furrowed, his wings out and twitching against his back, and he kept scratching at his horns.

"Is everything all right?" Castiel asked, setting the book down on his lap.

"Yes. No. Kind of." Astaroth's wings half opened and he shook his shoulders until they pulled back in, "Amon and I…we were supposed to groom each other today but I can't find him anywhere. Have you seen him?"

"Not since our…disagreement." Castiel tilted his head, "Why not get Ruby to groom you instead?"

He swore that he saw Astaroth's face turning red behind that mask, "It's not…she doesn't…" A pause, "My relationship with Ruby isn't intimate, it's just a…thing. Amon and I are brothers, we…" He swallowed, "Listen, Cas, I know it's asking a lot but could you clean my wings for me? They're driving me nuts. I can, uh, clean…yours for you."

Castiel blinked. They had talked about this, in length, demon edict. It wasn't, it turned out, much different from angel edict when it came to grooming, relationships, and power structure. But what Astaroth was asking of him was a powerful exclamation of family bonding.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Castiel answered seriously, "I may be tainted but I am still an angel. It would be improper for us too—."

"That's a bunch of crap." Astaroth cut in, wings rustling, spreading and folding rhythmically, "We've never—that is to say—what I mean is…" A frustrated groan, "God, Cas, you're practically family by now."

Castiel froze. He stared up at Astaroth unblinkingly, hands pressed over the book cover on his lap, wings half opened at his back.

Astaroth…" The angel chose his words carefully, "You are asking me to be your brother."

The Demon Lord's features softened, "Amon and I were talking for a while before your argument. We usually get bored of our guests after a year but, geez, you've been—."

"Around." Castiel was starting to understand what Astaroth was having such a hard time expressing, "You enjoy my company and the sense of my Grace."

A crinkling of those black eyes, "There's no one else in Hell I can have philosophical discussions with."

"And…Amon?"

Astaroth paused, "I think—and let me stress how much of a hypothesis this is—but I think he respects you." A shrug of those broad shoulders, wings twitching, "Cas, we've never…invested this much attention in any one of our guests. Not ever."

Castiel stared flatly back at him, expressionless, "Amon said he would kill me if he saw me again."

"Yeah, well, he didn't mean it." Astaroth huffed, looking a little agitated, "He's impulsive and he's an idiot. Hells bells, Cas, he's the Demon Lord of Wrath and Revenge, he's bound to lose his temper over stupid stuff. Look," A clawed hand reached over his shoulder to try and scratch at his wings, "Can you please just help me out? It's driving me nuts."

Castiel sighed and set his book aside, shifting backwards on the pile of cushions on the floor so that Astaroth could sit. The Demon Lord happily sat in front of the former angel and relaxed his wings so that the leathery membranes were stretched across the floor. Castiel was unsure what to do. With angels, the purpose was to straighten and smooth the ruffled feathers, to ease and clean and mend and make beautiful again. Astaroth's wings had no feathers.

The Demon Lord of Fear and Chaos seemed to sense Castiel's hesitation because he said in a pleasant voice, "All you have to do is rub down the ridges and smooth out the membranes. Believe it or not, we actually get folds and kinks in our wings and it's as obnoxious as fuck."

Castiel paused for a moment longer and then ran his fingertips lightly over the ridges of Astaroth's wings. They were hard and felt like fingers, knobby at the knuckles where the wings bent. The Demon Lord pushed the ridge into Castiel's touch, urging him to apply more pressure. Castiel complied rubbing the ridges roughly with his fingers. It was a little rough and it made his arms ache but there was something rewarding about the relaxed slump of Astaroth's shoulders and, when Castiel started running the flat of his palms over the membranes, the sigh of relief that seeped through the gasmask.

It took around quiet a half hour for Astaroth to be satisfied and ruffle his wings out from under Castiel's touch. They folded up against his back and seamlessly became the usual cloak that hung from his shoulders. He stretched, black claws reaching for the ceiling, and then spun around on the spot to face Castiel.

"You're turn, Cas," He ordered in what was quite possibly the merriest tone the former angel had ever heard, "Turn around, I'll clean your wings for you."

Castiel hesitated and then slowly turned around, spreading his ebony wings out so that Astartoh could reach them. He had not been properly groomed since he'd been captured, only managing to clean his wings every so often by himself, so when Astaroth's fingers ran through his feathers, straightening the barbs and smooth the ruffled edges, he felt himself relax and let out a sigh of contentment.

"God, Cas, the feathers at your back are like Amon's hair in the morning." Astaroth chuckled and Castiel felt a tug as the demon began to untangle them.

"I would have thought your hair would have caused more of a problem."

"Dude, was the at a joke? Did you just make a joke?"

"I…yes, I suppose I did."

There was a pleased sort of humming noise from Astaroth and then silence fell again. It went on for a while before Cas decided to ask a very risky question, one that could either move him closer to helping the brothers or put him in the same situation he was now in with Amon.

"Astaroth, how much do you remember about being human."

Everything froze and the Demon Lord's fingers were suddenly icy cold against Cas' feathers. The former angel stiffened and fought the instinctive urge to pull his wings in. He remained perfectly still, acutely aware of Astaroth's pitch black eyes on the back of his head. After what felt like a very long moment, the demon said,

"Nothing."

He started working at Cas' feathers again and when he spoke, his voice was low, "I don't remember anything, I only knew that I was. I think every demon does. Remember being human, I mean. They—we—might not remember the details, might not remember our names or our true faces, but we just know we used to be human."

"And it…it does not bother you? You are aware that you used to be human—Amon is aware—and yet you still cause so much suffering."

Astaroth's grip tightened painfully on Castiel's feathers, but only for a moment, "How does it feel to you, Cas? How does it feel to know you were once an angel of God? You remember your former glory, don't you, you remember what Heaven was life, right? And yet you're completely aware of the fact that you can never go back to that. Think about that and then ask me that question again."

Castiel did not want to think about it. He knew how it would make him feel; angry, frustrated, hurt, and saddened. It was a crushing swell of emotions and while he was well versed in pretending they didn't exist, in looking the other way, demons appeared to be less able to resist the temptation to vent their rages. It was the ultimate torture, Castiel thought, to be able to remember what you once were in the vaguest of ways, to remember just enough to hate and suffer from it.

He understood it all to well.

But perhaps Castiel had something that the demons did not. A tiny, flickering shred of hope. The demon brothers were his only ticket out of Hell and he was beginning to want to do anything he could to save them as well.

"Astartoth," The Castiel began, "What would you sa—."

He was cut off by Astaroth surging to his feet and spinning about so fast that his cloak smacked into the back of Castiel's head. The former angel scrambled to his feet as Astaroth took off running down the rows of bookcases. Castiel followed after him, trench coat billowing in his wake, dead feathers loosened by Astaroth's grooming swirling out behind him like fluffy black snow.

"Astaroth!" Castiel called they burst from the library, "Astaroth! What is going on!"

The Demon Lord did not answer, only continued to run. His wings flared briefly behind him as he leapt down the stairs and he landed with a solid thunk on the floor below. Castiel leapt after him.

"Asta—ahg, Veles!" The former angel shouted for the hell hound. There was the sound of splintering wood and Veles came charging over the banister to run beside his master. Castiel raced to keep pace with the Demon Lord of Fear and Chaos, "Astaroth! What's happening! Astaroth! Sam!"

The Demon Lord stumbled, caught himself, and looked over his shoulder as he ran. For a split second, his eyes looked brown instead of pitch demon black. Or it might have been the light.

"It's Amon!" There was a hitched, terrified edge that Castiel had never heard in Astaroth's voice before. It was a tone he usually heard the in the Demon Lord's victim's.

"What's wrong with Amon! What's happened!"

"I don't know!" The trio burst into the courtyard, scattering demons in their wake, "He's in trouble! He's in danger!"

"Astaroth, you need to calm down!" Castiel grabbed the demon's shoulder and jerked him back so that their eyes met, crystal blue on tar black, "If Amon is under attack, you need to gather your troops. Point me in the direction Amon is in and I will find him and help him if I can."

"But—!"

"Listen to me!" Castiel snapped, shaking the Demon Lord, "There is every possibility that Asmodeaus or Alastair or even Heaven itself is attacking your brother! You will need backup! I will go and save him if I can but you need to think clearly!" His voice lowered somewhat, "You were always the more levelheaded of the two of you. I need you to be smart about this. Right now. Focus."

Astaroth stared at him and then nodded, his features hardening behind his gasmask, "Somewhere west of here, in the Hinterlands, I think. Cas. Find him. Be careful." With that he whirled around, wings flaring wide, and started bellowing orders in a way that would have made Amon proud. Castiel turned to Veles, who was growling softly,

"Stay with Astaroth. Do as he says. I'll be back shortly."

Veles cocked his head to the side with a short whine but Castiel was already spreading his wings and pumping them quickly. He gained altitude and shot off to the West, towards the Hinterlands, the border between the Demon Lord regions.

It was only when the shadow of the castle was shrinking away behind him that he realized that the familiar weight of the collar was no longer tight around his neck.