I'm kinda worried about this chapter so please tell me what you guys think. I'm always worried about action scenes.

…I like the Lion King.

One Wing in the Fire (9)

Ever since his confrontation with Castiel, Amon had been in a furious mood.

He had raged about the castle for hours, torturing the souls at his mercy far more cruelly than ever before, and generally being the biggest bag of dicks his side of Hell. The claw marks from Veles were healing slower than they should have and throbbed painfully beneath the belts on his face, making his temper short. What made it worse was that he could sense Castiel's goddamn presence all over the castle. He was sure that Astaroth felt it too, but Ashy had always been a little weird about things like "psychic connections" and besides, that wasn't the point. The point was that Castiel reminded Amon of something he hadn't thought about in centuries.

That he used to be human.

The utter rage and anguish that had accompanied that revelation had shot through Amon like hellfire on a bad day. There was a small part of him that regretted beating Castiel but the rest decided that the angel solidly deserved the punishment. Never had Amon felt so weak and so vulnerable as in that split second of a moment when he'd remembered what he used to be.

Unacceptable.

Completely unacceptable.

But now the Demon Lord couldn't get the thought from his head. Nothing distracted him from it, not the television, not his harem, not torturing souls, nothing. So one day he simply took to the skies and flew off into the Hinterlands to clear his mind, to get away from Castiel. The Hinterlands were no man's land, a barren stretch of red rock carved with canyons and bottomless pits.

Amon settled himself onto the floor of a canyon, the sheer rock walls rising up on either side of him, casting him in shadow. There, in the quiet and the gloom, he tried to figure things out. It didn't go very well. He could not shake that agonizing remembrance. It simply would not let him be. With a furious snarl, he lashed out and sent a whip of fire against the canyon wall, scorching the rock with a streak of black and cracking the stone.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Tutted an accented voice that Amon loathed to hear any day of the week, much less now of all times, "Temper, temper, boy. What did that poor rock ever do to you?"

"Oh fuck me." Amon growled, turning on the spot to glare at Asmodeus, better known to the human realm as Crowley (and generally referred to as such, seeing as it was less of a mouthful).

"That can be arranged." Crowley said mildly, a tumbler of whiskey in one hand. Even in Hell, he wore a perfectly human guise; a short, British man with a perfectly tailored suit and slick hair. The only thing that changed between Earth and Hell was his eyes. He could not hide his blood red demon eyes in the underworld.

"I do not want to deal with you right now, Crowley, so get out of my sight." Amon spat, not daring to turn his back on the other Demon Lord. Crowley and Alastair were still at war with Heaven and they were still fairly sore at Amon and Astaroth for backing out of it.

"And there we have the problem," Crowley sauntered up to him, a small, smug expression playing across his face, "Because I'd very much like to deal with you."

Amon said nothing, just stood his ground in wary, angry sort of way.

"One of my little birdies told me that you've got an angel in your castle," Crowley took a sip of his golden whiskey and licked his lips, "And that you had a little fight."

Amon growled, a low, animalistic sound that rumbled deep in his chest, "Your spies shouldn't be in our castle. Who is it? Who's your little bird? I'll wring their neck."

"Temper, temper, boy, didn't I already say that?" The Demon Lord of Ambition, Greed, and Desire sneered, "Besides, I don't think your moose would be very pleased with you if you killed my bird."

"Ruby." Amon's sharp teeth flashed past the belts lashed across his face, "That bitch."

"Now about that angel…"

Glowing green eyes snapped back to Crowley, "What about him?"

"He's already half way gone, isn't he? Tainted, stained, halfway down the road to demon-hood.

"What's your point?"

"I take it you've been having a difficult time adjusting to the presence of his Grace." Crowley ground the word out like it was something he'd gotten stuck between his teeth, "I know, I can see it on your face. How about I take him off your hands?"

Instant war ensued in Amon's head.

Yes, get rid of him, he's breaking you. Look at what he's done already. He's a wedge between you and Astaroth, he's a tumor on your reign. He's been nothing but trouble.

No. Look at Crowley, didn't you hear that tone in his voice? He'll tear Castiel apart. It'll be worse than Alastair. There wouldn't be anything left of Cas at all.

You're getting attached. Your so called 'pet project' has become a part of your family. A fucking angel. A broken, tainted angel. Get rid of him. He's ruining you. Can't you see that? He's already ruined you. You don't even know who you are anymore.

Look at everything you've done for him. Look at everything he's done for you. When's the last time you've had that much fun? You know what Crowley would do to him. You know it, you've seen it, and you can't stand that. Don't do it. Don't give him away.

He's a menace.

He's not.

He's done nothing but ruin everything.

He's made it better.

You're an idiot to keep him around.

Amon clenched his fists at his sides, looked Crowley in the eye, and spat out an angry,

"No."

One eyebrow rose in response, "No? I could make it worth your while. I can give you anything you want, you know that Amon." Crowley spread his arms out and his presence seemed to swell until Amon could feel the other demon's power pushing against him, "I'm the Demon Lord of Desire, I'm Asmodeus, I'm the King of the Crossroads." He smiled and his teeth were suddenly sharper than normal, "Ask me for anything and I can give it to you."

"I said no." Amon snapped, "Now go away, I'm through talking to you." His eyes narrowed and he could feel the sharp sting of one of the cuts from Veles' assault pop open and ooze blood beneath some of the belts.

Crowley eyed him for a moment as if he was looking for something and then sighed. He swirled the whiskey around in his glass and then downed it all in a single gulp. As he dropped his hand, the tumbler vanished and he stuck both hands into the pockets of his perfect slacks.

"Have it your way," The Demon Lord of Greed and Desire muttered, shrugging one shoulder. He turned to leave, paused, and said over his shoulder, "By the way, I heard that the Jersey Devils were acting a little wild today. You might want to be on the look out for them."

"Fuck off." Amon grumbled, slouching down to sit on the canyon floor again.

"All right, I'll let you sulk in peace, then. Just remember, Lord Amon, everyone makes a deal with me. Everyone."

Amon whipped around to glare at Crowley but the other demon had already vanished. Snorting angrily, sparks dancing briefly between his fingers, Amon scratched sigils into the dirt with his claws.

"Deals," He huffed moodily, "I've never made a deal with you, Asmodeus, and I never will."

He frowned and looked up. He thought, for a moment, he'd heard thunder in the distance. Shrugging it off and thinking it had something to do with the way sound bounced in the canyon or some weird stuff like that, he went back to scratching in the dirt again.

Only then the ground started to tremble.

Okay, that definitely wasn't normal.

Amon looked up again, tail sweeping back and forth across the rocky canyon floor in trepidation. Had Crowley called out an army on him? But that would break their already unstable alliance and besides, he and Alastair were too busy with their against Heaven to bother with Amon. They'd said as much themselves. Crowley was probably just screwing with him. Maybe. Something told Amon that wasn't the case but the Demon Lord was too fed up to care.

He should have listened to that something.

By the time he understood that what he was hearing wasn't thunder, they were almost on top of him. He heard the pounding of their hooves and their screaming cries and scrambled to his feet in time to see a stampeding herd of Jersey Devils hurtling around a corner towards him. They were a mass of bright, flame red with black eyes and curling rams horns of steel, their iron hooves churning the stone beneath them to dust, their sharp teeth snapping and hissing. Tiny, useless, bat-like wings beat against one another, devil spaded tails tangled in the air, and a few of them were even spitting fire between their harsh, human-like screaming cries.

Amon locked up.

For a split second, he froze.

Then he ran.

It didn't even occur to him to use his wings. He simply ran, the thudding of his boots lost amongst the pounding of the stampede, his gasping breath sucking in the dust churned up by the Devils. He was panicking and for the life of him he couldn't wrap his mind around why. Jersey Devils were untamable, wild beasts of Hell who slipped onto Earth to eat children and cause massive amounts of panic. They lived in the Hinterlands and destroyed any demon stupid enough to get caught in their stampeding path.

Amon had been stupid enough.

Up ahead, he saw a rise of rock in the middle of the canyon floor. It was the perfect launch pad. He put on an extra burst of speed and willed his wings open, letting them burst from his shoulders as he ran up the small incline. The Jersey Devils were hot on his heels, snapping at his tail, hissing and calling at him. Amon did his best to ignore them. He raced up the rock and jumped off the peak. He might have made it too, if he had been a few seconds faster.

His boot had barely left the ground when they overcame him. Stampeding in a wild madness, they leapt over the rock and crashed into him. He tumbled from the air, wings beating frantically against thousands of bodies that pushed and crushed against him. One of the Devils fell and pinned him to the ground, legs kicking, head flailing, horns thudding painfully against the Demon Lord's chest and driving the air from his lungs. The other Devils continued to stampede around him and trampled down his wings, their heavy hooves tearing into the thin membranes and cracking the brittle fingers in between. He would have screamed if he'd had the breath to do it.

The stampede didn't seem to end. The Devil that had fallen on him had found its feet and joined its herd but not before it kicked him in the face and ripped a handful of belts from his face. He couldn't remember being in this much pain. His breath wasn't filling up crushed lungs, his vision was red and he couldn't figure out if it was because of the Devils or because there was blood in his eyes, and his wings were in agony. He tried to roll onto his side and drag himself under the safety of the small rock rise for what little shelter it would provide but those cloven hooves tore into his wings and yanked him back when he tried to move.

Can Demon Lords die? What will happen to Astaroth? Can you die again in Hell?

He thought he heard someone calling his name. Maybe he just wished someone was calling his name.

"Amon!"

No…no someone was definitely calling for him. A gravelly voice, not Astaroth's, not who he expected at all.

"Amon!" A shadow flashed between the pounding bodies of the Jersey Devils and for a brief instant, the Demon Lord saw a familiar trench coat and a pair of ebony wings.

Castiel.

A mixture of feelings rose up in Amon's chest but it also sent fire through his limbs. He was still angry with the half-fallen angel. With a pain torn, furious shout, he surged against the tide of Devils, broken wings creaking, snapping, tearing, claws scrabbling, tail lashing as he hauled himself to his hands and knees and then tried to get to his feet.

"Amon!" In a flash, Castiel was flying overhead, vibrant blue eyes almost glowing in the gloom of the canyon, "Grab my hand!"

Another growl of thunder rumbled through Amon's beaten chest as he tried to push his way towards the outstretched hand. Claws brushed fingertips and then a Devil tore straight through one of Amon's wings and he doubled over with an agonizing scream of pain, flames spitting from his hands as he lashed out instinctively. A hand snatched through the fire and grabbed his wrist, pulling at him, hoisting him up into the air. The stampeding Jersey Devils knocked against the Demon Lord's body, battering him sideways, tossing his legs this way and that as Castiel's wings pumped for all they were worth. His features were strained, his wings working so hard that they were shedding black feathers, a sheen of sweat appearing on his forehead.

A Jersey Devil chose that moment when Amon was almost clear of the herd to leap up and snag Castiel's foot in its mouth. The angel let out a cry as the extra weight pulled him back down. Another Devil slammed into Amon's chest, knocking him breathless again and tearing him out of Cas' grasp. Amon was thrown back against the canyon wall and he scrambled for purchase, trying to find something to pull him out above the stampede. His claws sunk into a crack and he hauled himself up as best he could, boots scrabbling against the sheer rock wall, tattered wings dangling from his back like extra weights, useless and torn. The demon looked back over his shoulder but he couldn't see Cas anywhere. There was the large possibility that the angel had been pulled down into the herd and was being trampled to death.

Amon pressed the side of his face against the canyon wall, trying to steady his breath and his thundering heartbeat. He couldn't remember ever being so terrified in life. But it wasn't just himself he was scared for. He didn't want to leave Astaroth behind, couldn't leave him behind.

There was an explosion of black feathers and then Castiel was there again, hands reaching and Amon didn't even think, he just jumped. Cas barely managed to catch him and they dropped several feet but those black wings beat the air until they rose. A stream of fire flared up from one of the Jersey Devils below and the former angel swerved to avoid it. The movement unbalanced him and they dropped again. Amon sent a vicious kick into the muzzle of a Devil snapping at them and it dropped back with a yelp.

"Cas, you gotta get higher!" He roared, kicking at another Devil, claws digging probably painfully into the angel's shoulders, "Fly higher!"

"I can't—!" Castiel's voice cracked as he shouted back, the strain on his face evident. He should have been able to, Amon knew that, but it looked as though being stuck between demon and angel had left Castiel weaker than he imagined.

"Try!" Amon screamed and then jerked, fingers slipping as a Jersey Devil grabbed hold of one of his wings and started pulling him along with the herd, "Cas! Fly you fucking idiot!" He didn't know if he was shouting to save Cas or shouting to save himself.

Cas was still clinging tightly to Amon and the Jersey Devil still had a hold of Amon's wing. Castiel fought back, his own wings swirling the air, as he fought back against the surging tide of Jersey Devils. But the stampede was stronger and they were being dragged both along the canyon and back down towards the herd.

"No."

It wasn't a shout, it was a low, furious growl and Amon's gaze snapped back to Cas' face. The former angel's usually blank features were twisted into a vengeful snarl and his wings snapped wide open, catching a surge of air. His teeth were bared and they were dagger sharp. Claws bit into Amon's skin as Castiel hauled backwards, wings beating with a renewed fury. The Devil clinging to Amon's wing was lifted out of the herd before the force of its stampeding brothers dragged it back and it was forced to let go. The effect was immediate. Castiel soured into the sky on a rush of hot air, flying clear of the herd and the canyon walls. Amon's tense body relaxed a little and the pain washed over him anew, a fresh wave of agony that pulled at his mind, yanking it down into the blackness of unconsciousness.

Just before the darkness swirled over, he thought he saw a figure standing on the edge of the canyon.

It looked like a short man in a perfect suit.

But maybe he'd just been imagining it.