AN: Many thanks to those who have favorited and/or followed this story - 12 so far, more than any of my other stories (even my still by-far most-viewed, Alcatraz Season 2.) You know who you are. Especially special thanks to cheshirekitten909 (hope I remembered your handle correctly!), whose decision to follow my story reminded me that it was time to continue it at last, 'cause youse all have waited more than long enough!

Also, hope you guys can spot the ways the most recent ep of SPN ("Devil May Care") inspired the directions I'm taking with this fic now.

R&R and enjoy!

Chapter 2

Cedric stirred awake and was temporarily blinded by a blazing spear of light, which came from a nearby window. Despite the trees and venetian blinds to filter it, the morning sunlight was strong. But then the sunlight faded away, to be replaced with a view of a rocky scree on a cloudy day.

"Cas, stop playing with that," said a sharp voice. Cedric identified its owner as the man called Dean. "You'll wake up Sleeping Beauty."

Castiel, still wearing the same old beige trenchcoat, pulled his hand away from a dial next to the window. Although the realistic appearance of the obviously artificial window reminded Cedric of the magical windows he'd once seen in the halls of the Ministry of Magic, he instinctively knew this was some kind of Muggle technology. Wonder how else they've come close to replicating magic, Cedric thought. How long have I been away again? Fifteen years? Twenty?

"And don't just ignore the subject," Dean continued. "Tell me, Cas. What are you hiding?"

Cas sighed heavily. "Metatron would never have done what he did on his own," he said. "I would never have seen him as vengeful about being put on Earth. If anything, he actually requested the assignment personally from God. At least, so I've heard it said."

"Why?"

"Even back then, Heavenly politics were...what's the phrase? Royally fucked up." Cas paused to allow Dean a chance to raise his eyebrow in response to the profanity. "One can hardly blame Metatron for wanting to get out of it before he had to pick a side. But that's not the point. Metatron must be taking orders from someone. Either that, or he's somehow been corrupted by a demon."

Dean snorted. "Is that even possible?"

"Perhaps not," said Cas. "Unless...?"

"No." Dean was emphatic. "Absolutely not. He's locked up, and even so he'd never do anything like that."

"Oh, you think?" Cas tried flexing his sarcasm muscle. "He's only the most powerful demon in Hell, after all."

"Powerful assbutt or not, that still doesn't change the fact that-" Dean stopped, realizing Cedric was sitting up in bed. "Oh good, you're awake," he said. "About goddamn time. You're gonna want to follow us, like right away."

Cedric stood up straight. "Wait a moment. Who are you? What do you want?"

"Listen, limey," said Dean, "you're the one who fell out of Heaven, not me. I'd advise you to cool your jets before you go all God-Squad-nuclear on us. Copy?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Cedric asked.

Dean turned to Cas. "Guess maybe you were right about him not being an angel," he said wryly. "He cusses. Imagine that."

"I only cuss, as you say, because I've lived down here long enough to pick up your dialect and mirror it," said Cas.

"No more robot-y talk, Cas," said Dean. "Let's go, buddy. We got ourselves a real fallen angel to go and pick up."

Cedric was concerned that he had taken the wrong turn on his way to the Second Marauder that day and had somehow fallen down a particularly twisted rabbit hole. Fallen angels? God-Squad-nuclear? What fresh hell was this? His stomach in knots - a feeling he hadn't experienced since the night he died - he nevertheless reluctantly followed Dean and Cas out of the room and through a long tunnel, finally emerging onto an asphalt road with an old American car parked on the opposite side. It was daytime, but the sun was starting to set, creating orange bolts of light that shone between tall trees, just like in the changing window Cas had been experimenting with earlier.

Opening the back door, Cedric took his seat behind Cas - since he was shorter, his seat was adjusted further forward, allowing more legroom behind him than did Dean. Just as he was about to lean back against the leather upholstery, something pounded the back of the seat, and Cedric could hear another British-accented voice (though arguably more uncouth than his own) yelling, "Oi! Dean, I know you can hear me! Get me the bloody hell out of here already!"

Cedric flinched away, prompting Dean to turn around. "Don't be scared," he said. "That's just Crowley. He's a crossroads demon, but he's totally harmless right now. Wouldn't hurt a fly...or, more accurately, couldn't. Not while he's trapped there."

"Crossroads demon," repeated Cedric. "Good to know. Now, can someone please tell me what we're doing right now?"

Dean and Cas exchanged glances, and Cas answered Cedric's question. "All the angels were banished from Heaven last night, and in order to do so, the spellcaster needed an angel's Grace - that is, his power. So he stole it from a dear friend of ours named Ezekiel, who's now wandering around all by himself and in serious danger. If we don't get him before the other angels do, he might find himself dead, or worse."

"What could be worse than death?" asked Cedric. "You guys sound like Voldemort."

"Who?" asked Dean.

"The man who killed me," said Cedric. "But that's not important. Why would angels be killing one of their own?"

Dean chuckled. "It's always amusing to explain this to outsiders," he said. "But whatever angels you've heard of from your parents...trust me, our angels are different. Way different." Without another word, Dean turned the key, fired the old car up, and slid a cassette tape into the player tucked into the dash. A light acoustic rock song started playing, something about a stairway to heaven. That's exactly what I need now, thought Cedric. A way back home before my dream comes true and everything goes pear-shaped. Isn't that the Muggle expression? Pear-shaped? I'll really have to ask Dean at some point.