Sorry for the long pause there. I've got a lot of work to do.
One Wing in the Fire (10)
Castiel met Astaroth and his entourage halfway back to the castle. The former angel had flown with the unconscious Amon in his arms for most of the way and then his wings had given out and he'd had to start walking, nearly dragging the Demon Lord along, feeling terrible for every dip and rock they passed over that jolted Amon's ruined wings. Castiel was exhausted when Astaroth found them.
There was a massive shadow overhead and that was all the warning Castiel got before Astaroth slammed into the earth in front of him. Veles leapt from his arms and started sniffing around Cas' legs, growling when he caught sight of the bite mark on the former angel's leg.
There was a sudden swirl of black smoke and a platoon of armed soldiers burst into existence, decked out in silver-black armor and carrying swords and lances. Astaroth was a menacing and terrifying sight in his own armor, all sharp angles of red-violet, bruise purple, and deep black, a massive great sword sheathed at his side. One of the straps on his mask was loose. Even though they were not a part of the war against Heaven, Astaroth and Amon had obviously been prepared for fights and were no stranger to battle gear.
"Amon!" And with that single exclamation, all that terror and ferocity that the Demon Lord of Fear and Chaos had been holding vanished. He sounded like a lost man, a young brother who was only looking out for his family and was devastated to see them hurt, "Holy shit, Amon, talk to me! What happened? Cas, tell me what happened!"
Castiel looked up wearily, Amon still hanging heavily in his arms and his wings ached and his leg was throbbing. But he answered Astaroth in a hoarse, tired voice,
"He was in a canyon…there was a stampede of…of devil-like creatures. I kept trying…I am sorry, Lord Astaroth, I…I should have been faster." He felt the ground tilt beneath his feet, "You may want to take your brother I…I can't…"
He swayed on the spot and Astaroth darted forward, armored arms catching them both with a grunt. Veles stood silently nearby, glaring back across the Hinterlands in the direction Cas had come from.
"Get me some help over here!" Astaroth snapped at his soldiers and several of them rushed forward to take hold of Castiel so the Demon Lord could take Amon, "We're going back to the castle, Amon needs healing." A black-eyed glance in Castiel's direction, "And so does Cas. Let's go. Someone grab the hell hound."
Cas felt unfamiliar hands grabbing tightly to his arms, then a dizzying cascade of churning black smoke, and then the familiar stone walls of the castle. He breathed a sigh of relief and with it went the last shreds of his strength.
He passed into uncomfortable darkness.
Amon did not wake up and his wings did not heal.
Astaroth refused to leave his brother's side and left the devices of the castle up to Chuck and Ruby. He remained in the room whether the healers were there or not and grew frustrated when said healers made very little progress in healing Amon. Something, they said, was not quite right. Demons weren't very versed in healing as it was but something about Amon's demonic powers had been altered and they didn't know what. Astaroth chased them out with threats of removing his mask and did not ask for them again.
A day after returning from the Hinterlands, Castiel tentatively slid into the room with a tray of food; two steaming bowls of stew, some bread, and a decanter of wine. He said nothing as he took a seat beside Astaroth at Amon's bedside and set the tray carefully on the small table in front of them. Astaroth's gaze did not leave his brother. The silence in the air was heavy.
"I am sorry." Castiel finally said in a low voice, blue eyes staring at the floor. He had woken up a few hours after arriving back at the castle but had stayed away from the Demon Lords, mostly out of fear of retribution. He had failed to save Amon in time and Astaroth would mostly likely not forgive him for that.
Beside that, he had needed time to adjust to the black claws on his fingers and his sharpened teeth. The taint of his Grace was a deep, saturated black. Nothing could be done for him now. Any more time spent in the company of the Demon Lords would turn and corrupt him completely and it would be unlikely that even an Archangel could save him then. But Castiel had gone beyond the point of hoping for his brothers or even caring if Heaven was still looking for him. Amon and Astaroth had adopted him into their own, trusted him, befriended him.
And he had let them down.
"Can you heal him?" Astaroth's voice was rough and splintered with worry.
"I…I do not know." Black eyes turned pleadingly on Castiel and the former angel sighed, "But I will try."
Castiel leaned forward and lay a hand on Amon's shuddering chest. He expected the familiar flaring heat of hellfire to be radiating off the Demon Lord's skin but was shocked to find it almost cool. No, not cool, he realized. But the warmth of a human, cooler than hellfire but hotter than the flames of Heaven. He didn't know if he should take it as a good thing or not.
Pushing those thoughts aside, Castiel reached for the tendrils of his Grace still seeping through the taint on his soul. It seared him, an eye-watering pain coursing through him as his own Grace shied away from what he had become. He was caught between angel and demon and the dizzying pain that resulted from the clash of powers inside him was enough to make him sick. But he stubbornly shoved the healing energies of those shreds of Grace towards Amon.
There was a blaze of light, the sharp stench of burning things, and then Astaroth's hands were pulling him back, shouting things that Castiel couldn't quite make out. His hands stung with poker hot pins and needles, his vision was a white-out blur of shapes, and his insides were spinning in different direction than the rest of the world.
A hand pressed against his forehead and he blinked several times, bidding his sight to come back. It did, slowly, and he managed to make out Astaroth leaning over him, one hand to the former angel's forehead. Castiel groaned and sat up, gently sliding out from the Demon Lord's touch, and looked to Amon,
"Did it work?"
"I don't…no, I don't think so." The Demon Lord of Fear and Chaos murmured and he sounded so human that Castiel turned around to look at him instead. He was a little taken aback when he saw, once again, Astaroth's eyes were no longer completely black but instead were a soft human brown, staring fixedly at his brother. The sickly pale pallor of his skin was warmer, pinker, more human. If not for the horns and the claws and the gasmask, Castiel would have thought the Demon Lord simply a human in a strange costume.
"Dean…" Astaroth said in a low voice and dropped his head into his hands. Castiel's eyes widened and his wings rustled, "Why did you have to be such an idiot…? What were you doing out there?"
"Being…pissed at Cas." Choked a voice and the other two looked up sharply to see a pair of tired green eyes watching them, "Hell's bells, Sammy…you're such a girl."
"Dean!" Astaroth leapt to his brother's side, hands flying over the other demon's form, tangling up his words as he asked if his brother was all right.
Castiel watched in utter amazement, frozen in his seat, as the two brothers bickered back and forth in a manner that showed their worry and their care and their devotion to one another. And they were calling each other by their human names.
"Where's that stupid angel?"
Amon was leaning around Astaroth, looking expectantly at Castiel. His dark crimson skin was undeniably a few shades lighter and his green eyes had lost their angry glow.
"Hey," The Demon Lord muttered, "Thanks for saving my sorry ass. And I…take back what I said about killing you, 'k. No hard feelings?"
"No…" Castiel murmured, afraid to even blink lest the delicate threads of humanity showing through vanished if he did so, "No hard feelings. I forgive you."
Amon made a noise that was half laughter, half cough and flopped back onto his bed. His eyes slid closed and Astaroth made a worried noise in the back of his throat. Amon grunted at him to ease off and that he just needed some sleep. Castiel watched their tired bickering resume in silence. The trauma had pulled them all closer together and tugged even more of the brother's humanity to the surface.
Just a little more time and they would remember who they really were.
Just a little more time and Castiel's Grace would be buried forever under black demon taint.
Castiel urged Astaroth to attend to the duties of the castle and the duel realms, promising to take good care of Amon and to alert the other Demon Lord if there were any changes. Astaroth was hesitant to go but Chuck and Ruby were butting heads and Chuck was generally ending up out cold on the floor so the Demon Lord saw the sense in it. He peered in every so often, brought food and drink, and tried to pretend that he wasn't worried. Castiel remained at Amon's side, coaxing him to sleep or eat while doing very little of it himself.
Everything changed a week and a half later when Amon's horns fell off.
It was quiet around the castle, very little activity going on and no one in a rush to start doing anything either. Veles was snoozing at Castiel's feet, his massive bulk now the size of a small pony. The former angel himself had his head propped in his hand and his elbow on the arm rest of his chair, staring at the book in his lap without really reading the words.
An irritating skrtch skrtch skrtch drew his attention to the bed. Amon was leaning against the headboard, propped there by numerous pillows. He had been slowly healing and had managed to fold his wings away though the lacerations and bruises still remained across his chest and face, a few belts still dangling loosely from his features where he hadn't bothered or let anyone else remove them.
"Stop scratching." Castiel said flatly, raising his head from his hand and dropping his arm over the armrest.
"Can't help it," Amon grumbled, claws digging into his hair where his horns met his skin, "They itch and they're driving me nuts."
"You're only irritating it."
Amon made a strangled noise of annoyance and his other hand came up to attack his other horn, claw tips scraping along the hard surface and raising that irritating, fingernails on a chalkboard scratching. Castiel ground his teeth together at the noise and reached forward to stop Amon but the Demon Lord pulled away from him with an angry huff. Castiel frowned, a combination of weariness, worry, and the sting of his own rebelling Grace making him grumpy and drawn tight as a violin string. He reached forward again to stop Amon and this time Amon batted his hand away before returning to his scratching.
"Amon, cease your current activities!" Castiel snapped and lunged forward again only to have Amon's tail sweep up and start battering at his face. Castiel swiped at it angrily and a swirl of flames flared from his palms.
There was a yelp of surprise from both and then a sharp crack and a heavy silence.
Castiel slowly lowered his hands and met Amon's wide eyes. Then both blue and green traveled down and looked at the rumpled bed sheets. Amon's steely horns lay there, his fingers still pushed into his short, artfully ruffled, brownish hair. There were no scars, no holes, nothing to indicate that the Demon Lord had ever had horns at all.
"Amon…?" Castiel breathed and something in his voice made Veles' ears perk and the hell hound raised his head, snuffling quietly.
The Demon Lord, still staring at the horns laying on the covers, slowly lowered his hands. His fingers trailed down his temples, over his (rounded, Castiel noted) ears, and then dropped to touch the fallen horns. They cracked and then crumpled into dust beneath his touch. There was another heavy pause and then Amon looked up at Castiel and he the expression on his face was hopeless, confused,
"Cas…what's happening to me?"
The former angel bit his lip, hesitating for a moment, and then said slowly,
"You're becoming human."
Amon's emerald eyes—no longer glowing a furious, angry green but completely human—stared at him. They traveled from the former angel's dark hair, to the ebony wings folded against the trench coat, to the sharp teeth, to the claw tipped fingers. Then he met Castiel's solid blue gaze and murmured,
"And you're becoming a demon."
Castiel couldn't help it, he dropped his gaze from the Demon Lord's to Veles', "Then you are getting what you desired. My corruption. My fall." The hell hound at his feet thumped his tail against the floor, ears perked in Castiel's direction. The former angel lowered his hand and wound his fingers into Veles' smoky fur. Saying it out loud was different than simply thinking about it. It almost seemed to hurt.
"Well…good." Amon huffed and when Castiel looked up, he found that Amon had turned away and was busy fingering the hornless sides of his head.
But his words sounded forced and not for a second did Castiel believe them.