A/Ns: Welcome to the first of two interludes during this month and a half break. To address the couple of questions about posting a new story for Season 2 or continuing posting here. We will continue posting here. Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

Chapter Warnings: Cas and Heaven are up first! Disobedience, Crust-Side hospital hopping, bodiless demons, and a Baku. Off-screen tertiary character death (or is it?! ;)

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The Road So Far (This Time Around)

Season 1: Interlude I

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Heaven came in many forms, far too many to count. God's paradise was an ever shifting land of light, color, and peace. To the angels that patrolled its halls, it presented shimmering towers, endless halls of white stone, and domed ceilings that reached for the heavens, painted in the ever shifting colors of the sky below. The stone with which it was built was smooth as glass and shone with iridescent colors of all the wings of the Heavenly Host. The high arches and open-air courtyards were perfect for resonating the voices so often raised in heavenly rejoice.

For the humans that resided in their individual paradises, Heaven was a mirror of the Earth they had spent their physical life on, enlightened by the divine. A paradise of their own making, etched from their happiest moments and most cherished memories.

Castiel often visited with the humans who resided in his Father's kingdom. Most did not take notice of him. Some mistook him for friends and family that would come and go in their reminiscing. His favorite soul to visit had not once noticed his presence, mistaken or otherwise, which was fine for the angel. He did not frequent Arthur Staten's afterlife for the man's company, but for the unique beauty with which he viewed his world.

Arthur was autistic. While his soul did not bare the same hardships his body had carried, the young man knew no other perception of the world than that which he had seen through a brain that processed visuals so differently than most of his kind.

Castiel had yet to find a word that accurately captured the human's exceptional perspective.

The visualization of Arthur's world was simultaneously muted and explosive. Colors were vibrant and overwhelming, but came in amorphous blobs that had more in common with watercolor masterpieces than the people, places, and things they were. The visuals were not important to Arthur, though. It wasn't how he saw the world. He visualized through sound and touch.

His mother was a gentle brush of the back of a hand or the playful nudge of an elbow to his side. She was the off-key humming of a song Arthur didn't know the name of, nor understood the need to label something that was already identifiable by the very sounds comprising it. The second chorus that was most defined as his mother was always off pitch in the worst of ways. Such a thing grated on the man's sharp hearing and perfect mathematical understanding of pitch and tone, but it was so familiar that it was one of the most comforting sounds in the world to him despite its blatant flaws.

Castiel liked Arthur's heaven. Today was one of his preferred memories from the man's life. As a child, Arthur's mother often took him to the park down the street from their house. He would count the cracks in the sidewalk as they went. The number never changed, and that always made him happy. The other kids would play on the colorful structures that squeaked with rust and clanged the way hollow metal does when barreled into by a forty pound ball of unleashed energy. Arthur sat with his mother and watched the way each shriek or giggle changed the hue and shape of the splashes of color that represented each child.

Castiel sat on the bench next to Arthur and his mother, watching the world around him shift from the touch of a breeze across Arthur's cheeks, the brush of his mother's hand to his forearm, and the barking of a dog impatiently waiting for her master to throw her favorite ball.

"Ah, there you are."

The angel turned to look over his shoulder at his approaching brother, who swaggered like a human even when he had no vessel. Balthazar was considered by many in the Host as odd, but Castiel found his individuality curios and, dare he say, endearing.

"Thought I'd find you here," his brother said as he slid onto the bench beside him, wings catching the bright sunlight of Arthur's memory.

Castiel did not respond, turning his attention back to the children still playing. Many of his garrison knew he came here to seek solace and revelation. Like they did not understand Balthazar, many did not understand Castiel either. Perhaps that was what endeared him to his brother, and his brother to him.

"What's going through that head of yours, Cassie?"

That was another thing that set Balthazar apart from the rest of the Host. The way he spoke was quite…human. The angel had taken a fancy long ago to the different lilts of human language, and often expressed his many grievances that Enochian allowed for little deviation of its own. So he spent centuries tweaking their native tongue until he had his own, distinctive version. It was considered, by many, reprehensible. Castiel just thought it sounded vaguely British.

Given that the two of them were among the few angels who actually sought out humanity's various paradises on their leisure and even enjoyed the remembered worlds, it was not too peculiar that Balthazar had adopted some of the species' more acceptable quirks. Nor was it actually a punishable offense. Just…unorthodox.

"I am puzzled," Castiel answered his brother eventually, honest as he always was.

"Color me surprised," Balthazar responded in a tone Castiel did not understand but was beginning to identify as meaning the complete opposite of whatever was spoken. Quirks. "You usually are whenever I find you here."

Balthazar shifted, tucking a leg up onto the bench and turning his chest towards his brother. One brown and white speckled wing flapped, scattering the freshly fallen leaves across the ground around them. Arthur turned towards the two angels, the world growing quieter as he did so, but his eyes remained unseeing of their colors. His mother started up her gentle humming, and soon his attention was called back. Balthazar settled the wing over the top of the bench.

"What's got your knickers in a twist this time?"

Castiel did not know what knickers were, but he knew they were more twisted than ever before.

"There is a human – a man – praying to me." The stoic angel turned his full attention to his more charismatic brother. Perhaps this was a good happenstance. Perhaps Balthazar would have some thoughts as to how to address his predicament.

"A man, eh?" Balthazar's facial swirls shifted form and color in both interest and mockery. Castiel resisted the urge to glare. It would be rude.

"Yes. He prays quite often, and to me specifically." Castiel thought back to each of those pleas. He frowned, brow pinched in vexation. "Sometimes he's quite angry with me. Others, he requests my assistance: my guidance. Sometimes he just…talks."

Beside him, Balthazar shrugged. "Humans are strange, lonely creatures. They alleviate that loneliness with speech."

"But why to me?"

"Who knows? Humans have fads, and the supernatural is in right now. Some poor SOB probably stumbled across your name and decided you were the one to save his wretched existence." The way Balthazar put extra flourish into his words made Castiel doubt very much that was the case. "Maybe it was a Thursday."

The far more reserved angel was sure that if had conventional eyeballs as humans did, he would be rolling them. But he did not, and his brother was trying to help him in his own, unique way.

"He…" Castiel hesitated for a moment, unsure how to voice his supposition. Balthazar watched him expectantly, support coloring his face despite his often acerbic tongue. With only a slight shift to his celestial wavelengths – the equivalent of a flush – Castiel admitted, "It's foolish."

"Nonsense; nothing's foolish but fools, Cassie. And neither you nor I fit into that category." The angel paused briefly, then tilted his head in concession. "No matter what Zachariah says about me."

Castiel could not help the laughter that flitted across his face. Slightly more at ease, as he was sure was his brother's intention, he relented, "This human speaks to me as if he knows me, Balthazar."

His brother hummed in thought, turning his head away to stare at the shifting colors of the playground. "And you haven't taken any strolls crust-side lately? Mingled with the natives?"

Castiel tilted his head towards the other angel, expression chiding. "You know it is not permitted; the gates are shut."

"Well, only one thing to do then." Balthazar pushed up and off the bench. Castiel watched him in earnest. He was in honest need of an opinion beyond what he had formed by his own confused thoughts. Balthazar turned back to him with a flourish of wings and a grin Castiel immediately knew he would regret causing. "We'll just have to fix that miserable travel record of yours."

The angel blinked, staring uncomprehendingly up at his brother. "What?"

"Come on, Cassie! You've got a human begging you for your help. Let's go find out why!"

Castiel continued to stare. "Balthazar, it is impermissible. We don't have authorization for a mission on Earth."

His brother rolled his head in a manner Castiel suspected was much like a human rolling their eyes. Balthazar locked his gaze on the reluctant angel as he himself stood, bold and intrepid, with a challenge in his many eyes. "Come, brother. Were we not meant to be the shepherds of men?"

The angel hesitated. That was true… The Host had been tasked with the guardianship of mankind since its creation, to look after them and guide them. That was why man was able to pray to the Heavenly Host in the first place.

"But the gate is closed."

"Please," Balthazar scoffed, one hand on his hip, the other gesturing to himself. "You think I learned all this from old, dead wankers? The gate's not the only way out of this place."

His brother extended his hand, and Castiel shifted his gaze to it.

"Come on, Castiel. Your sheep is calling."

-o-o-o-

As their incorporeal feet touched down on God's green earth, Castiel took in a deep breath as he had not in almost a century. Beside him, Balthazar looked far too smug, causing a sheepish expression to filter across the angel's features. It had been far too long since he stood amidst his Father's many creations and admired them for their beauty as much as their flaws. He had not realized how much he missed it.

"Alright," his brother clapped his hands together, looking around at the small forest village they'd touched down in, somewhere in northern Germany. "Where's that human of yours live, hm?"

Castiel quieted his mind and grace to recall the man's last prayer. He had not spoken to Castiel in several days, but the angel could easily remember the last echoes of that voice. It had plead for assistance for another; his brother, named Sam. His appeals eventually turned to anger when 'Cas,' as the man often called him, had not miraculously appeared at the hospital the two humans resided in.

"Evanston Regional Hospital Emergency Room, in Evanston, Nebraska," he repeated the information the human had left him several times in increasingly distressed messages.

Balthazar raised an eyebrow. "A Yankee, huh? Alright then; US of A, here we come."

Castiel understood almost nothing of what his brother said, but considering Balthazar had been making unauthorized visits to the planet for some time now, he chose to follow his lead. The two angels took flight, soaring over forests, lakes, farmlands, and great expanses of ocean.

-o-o-o-

They landed in the hustle and bustle of an ER receiving area. Nurses darted to and fro, expressions harried, but every movement executed with terrifying efficiency. Doctors came in and out of halls, calling names from clipboards or escorting nurses with patients on stretchers through a set of double doors, disappearing beyond.

Castiel had not visited the earth since his garrison's last mission in the late eighteen hundreds. Back then, steam engines were considered the industrialized revolution of transportation and electricity a privileged commodity. Of course, he had seen the world change and develop through the memories of Heaven's charges. He was familiar with the advancements, though he had never taken the time to learn of them at a more hands-on level. Now, standing in the middle of the chaos that was the twenty-first century, he was… overwhelmed.

Balthazar looked like a kid in a candy shop. "Amazing, isn't it? All this, in a hundred and fifty years. And Zachariah still calls them mud-monkeys."

Castiel cast a curious glance at his companion's scoffing tone in regard to their commanding officer. It was no secret that Balthazar and Zachariah had a…difference of opinions. However, Castiel was fairly certain humanity wasn't one of those. "I did not know you held mankind in such esteem."

His brother laughed, holding out his arms at their environment. "It's the luxuries I admire, Castiel! Not the humans. I mean, look around. They really know how to live it up!"

He then paused, tapping a finger to his chin in a very human way. "Perhaps a hospital isn't the best place to admire the finer things…. After we find your boy, I'll show you the high life, Cassie. Just you wait."

The conservative angel spared him a skeptical, if not very confused look.

"One word, brother: hot tubs."

"That is two words," Castiel countered as he returned his senses to the environment around them, deciding Balthazar was once more being…well, Balthazar. He concentrated on the many souls residing in this building. Several of them were fading, which explained the reaper also patrolling the floors. He did not, however, find the one he was looking for.

"You're no fun," Balthazar was griping, crossing his arms. "So, where's your man?"

"He is not my man," the angel answered automatically, but his face was pinched in thought. "Nor is he currently here."

Balthazar puckered his lips, entertainment at this adventure beginning to fade. Honestly, he'd assumed they'd find some pimpled up teenager locked in his room, gothed to the nines and praying to angels and the gods of punk rock. He'd have gotten a kick out of the horrified look on his brother's face, and then he'd show him what he was really missing.

"Humans move, Cassie. It's kind of their thing."

His brother spared him a scathing look. "I am aware of that, Balthazar. However, his brother was gravely injured; I did not think they would relocate so quickly."

"Perhaps the brother died." The angel picked at his hand. If he was human, he would surely be cleaning the underside of nails he did not have as an angel. Perhaps Balthazar was spending a bit too much time with humans. "Or your man found someone else to give him the miracle he went looking for."

Castiel flinched at the remark. Balthazar was not a cruel angel. Unlike others in the Host, especially in recent centuries, his brother did not speak to inflict punishment. Balthazar was remarkably non-judgmental in that regard. He did not, however, practice empathy either, resulting in sharp comments that were bitter only in the truth of them. His words often stung more than cruelty ever could because of that validity.

The angel, remorseful that he had not answered the human's pleas sooner, prayed to his Father that the man had not sought help in darker places. He added a second, silent entreaty that the brother had not perished, though he had less hope for it. Humans died. It was also 'what they did.' Castiel took some solace in knowing there was little he could have done, had he come. Preferential treatment was not acceptable, not against the natural order of things and not without authorization from higher up the chain of command than a foot soldier.

He closed his eyes and extended his senses, sure that he could find the soul that had cried out to him with just a little more effort. The task had seemed unnecessary previously, given he thought he had a location for the human. It may have been faster to do this from the start, he reasoned, but it would have been far more difficult from across an ocean.

"I've found him." Castiel pulled his senses away from Sioux Falls, South Dakota and focused back on the hospital waiting room and his expectant brother. "They are not far."

Balthazar made a gesture with his hands that Castiel interpreted as 'get going then', in a voice that sounded annoyingly akin to his brother, actually. He spared the other angel a glance that was bordering on annoyed – about as expressive a reaction one could ever hope to get out of Castiel – and spread his wings to fly.

The floor trembled, disrupting both angels in their pre-flight movements. The humans around them stumbled and faltered as the ground shook. Then the walls joined in and objects scattered throughout the room began to vibrate and rattle. The light fixtures above started flickering, and both angels exchanged perplexed expressions.

"Earthquake!" A nurse shouted as she wrapped herself across another human lying in a bed equipped with wheels.

"Here?" a male responded back, just as confused as the two angels who stood amid them, feeling the tremors through the waves of their incorporeal bodies and knowing it was no earthquake.

When the ground took on a finite rumble of the damned, Balthazar turned his surprised features to his brother. They felt it at the same time: the swarm of evil descending on the hospital. Castiel immediately took stock of the humans around them and knew, though he did not know where such evil in such proportion was coming from, they could not confront it here.

Balthazar apparently had the same thought, as he grabbed Castiel's arm and spread his wings. "Fly!"

The two angels launched themselves from the Evanston emergency room as fast as their wings could carry them. A mass of formless, writhing demons followed after.

-o-o-o-

The fastest of the beasts, the ones weighed down by less sin and years in the pit, gained on them as they fled to the nearest unpopulated area. Several straggles of black smoke managed to swarm around the tip of Balthazar's wing, clinging to the dusty brown feathers, and he went down hard with a cry.

Castiel banked immediately, dive bombing after his brother. He flapped his wings harshly at the demon clinging to his kin, sharp edges of his primaries a weapon all their own. The angel felt a swell of relief when the creature screeched and released Balthazar's wing, but the damage was already done. Castiel held tightly to his brother, helping the injured angel land on the ground far smoother than his previous trajectory would have permitted.

"Your wing," he said immediately, needing to know the extent of Balthazar's injury. He pulled his blade from the depths of his grace, and brandished it at an incoming demon. The creature died quickly, little match for the wrath of one of God's finest. Castiel dispatched of two more quickly, earning them a moment respite as the fastest of the demons were all dealt with at the tip of his blade.

The rest of the hoard would not take long to catch up.

Balthazar spread the appendage experimentally, but immediately crumpled it back to his side with a flinch. He shook his head. "No good."

Castiel twisted his blade in his grip, worry gnawing at his internals. He had hoped the injury was not so severe as to hinder their flight. The strength of the demon stench seconds before it had swarmed the hospital indicated a large number of enemies. Flight was a far more favorable option than confrontation, especially with only the two of them. Where the hoard had come from or why there was such a presence of hell spawn on Earth, Castiel could not fathom.

"Very well, we will fight," he spoke calmly, a millennia of training and battle soothing his feathers and quieting his worries. There would be time for questions after they survived the battle.

Balthazar shook his head, pushing at his brother. "Go. Find that human."

Castiel's face pinched in confusion and clear disagreement. The human? He was hardly the angel's concern now. The incoming demons and his injured brethren were the clear priorities.

"Please," his brother scoffed at the look. "I can still fight, and it'll take more than a couple demons to take me down."

"Balthazar, the man is not of import-"

"He was important enough for you to come down here, wasn't he?" The angel folded his injured wing behind his back, blade sliding into his hand in preparation of the fight to come. "This amount of hell spawn won't go unnoticed. The Host will be dispatched, and you won't get another chance, Castiel."

The angel did not understand why Balthazar would push this, but there were many things he did not understand about his brother. Yet, he spoke the truth. Castiel was not disobedient by nature; to have disregarded the orders of his superiors to come to the aid of a human's call… Well, Castiel didn't know why he'd done it, but he could not deny the pull that had led him to do so.

He offered Balthazar his blade. It was tied to his own grace, but his brother would be able to wield it. Hopefully, the addition of another weapon would guarantee his cocky words were not misplaced.

Balthazar just smiled and pushed his hand back. "Keep it. Your luck is terrible, Cassie. The beasties will probably all follow you and leave me alone."

The angel tilted his head, his features shifting in an unamused way.

Although Balthazar always took great joy in the way Castiel never did get a joke, he sobered some at his companion's unrelenting concern and equal rigidity. Wrapping his hand around Castiel's, he pushed his brother's blade more firmly to the angel's chest. "Go. Find that human. And I'll meet you in Zachariah's office for one of his rousing speeches on self-restraint."

Castiel waivered. Partly because of the reminder that there was no way they could keep their Earth-side jaunt a secret. Even if Heaven did not send a squad their way to disperse the demons, Castiel would have to report such a mass of hell spawn, as well as the troublesomely fast response to their arrival in Evanston. Another part of him hesitated, worry flickering through his grace that he would find himself standing in their superior's office alone, without his friend by his side.

"I'll be fine, brother," Balthazar spoke softly, knowing the other angel's thoughts as clearly as though they were written on his face. Castiel never had been any good at hiding the emotions he wasn't supposed to have. "Go. I'll catch you later."

Castiel spared his brother one last look before he took to the skies. The tips of his obsidian wings wrapped his sibling in a quick embrace of comradery and strength before he was gone. Balthazar turned to the south, where the approaching cloud of black was almost upon him.

"Sorry, Cassie," he whispered, raising his blade and sparing a quick glance back at his injured wing.

-o-o-o-

Castiel pushed his brother's strife from his thoughts as he flew across forests and rocky mountain ranges in the blink of an eye. Balthazar could handle himself, and it would take a large number of demons to even hamper an angel, let alone take one down.

Instead, he focused on the soul that called to his grace, begging to be found even if its voice remained determinedly silent. Castiel touched down in the house the human's soul resonated from less than a minute after he had left his brother. The home was old, with stacks of books and artifacts of ancient, supernatural origins scattered here and there.

The home of a hunter, Castiel identified easily. Perhaps that explained the man asking for help from an angel that was listed little in scripture.

Voices drew him into the main room of the house, and Castiel's grace flared at the presence of a demon in the center of the room. She was safely contained within a devil's trap, and a human stood before her, gun trained on her human form.

Castiel stared in shock at the Colt, even as it fired on the demon and smote her being as succinctly as he himself could have. The man behind the special gun lowered it, a flash of anger crossing his face followed by a calm that any warrior who had lost soldiers in the field would understand.

The angel's grace reverberated with the man's soul, and Castiel stared, surprise coloring his features, at the man who had called out to him so many times in recent months.

He seemed…ordinary, really. A fine specimen of humanity, the angel supposed, but not what he had been expecting. Not that Castiel knew what he had been expecting. Perhaps someone…different.

The hunter crossed the room, unaware of the divine being watching him from another plane as he knelt beside the downed demon. Castiel had half a mind to stop him, but he could sense no demonic presence left in the young woman, or in the house at all.

He frowned, however, when he sensed something else. The angel tilted his head to the side, gaze roaming slowly through the room to settle on a doorway just past a desk and disheveled bookshelves. There was a door he could see beyond, partially cracked and leading to a set of stairs.

Castiel left behind the human who had prayed so fervently for him and descended those steps. There was something dark still residing within the house, but it was no demon. He found himself in a basement, navigating towers of boxes and more books until he came to a surprising sight. There was another room within this floor. It was made entirely of iron, a heavy door left open to reveal a room designed entirely around supernatural wards and traps. The angel stepped into the space after confirming no angelic warding was present, admiration flaring for the human that had built such an ingenious safe-room.

His thoughts, distracted by the clever space, stopped altogether at the sight of two humans, asleep on various furniture against one side of the circular room. Castiel frowned as the darkness flared again, and he took a step towards the sleeping men. He held his hand out over them both, faltering when his grace flared in repulsion at the youngest. There was evil in his blood, writhing with the same black essence as the demons who had attacked him and his brother moments ago.

Castiel drew back in horror, staring down at a boy tainted by demon blood. How it had gotten there, he did not know, but the infection was growing. It was spreading through his being and beginning to seep its way into the man's heart and soul. It would take him over if Castiel did not cleanse him of it now.

The angel reached his hand out to do just that, but the boy frowned in his sleep, head twitching to the side, showing signs of waking. The process of removing the taint, if he even could, would not be a pleasant one. Castiel paused long enough to consider the options, before he reached out for the human's mind. He would ensure he was properly asleep and would not wake to what the angel had to do.

He cast his grace out in search of the sleeping man's conscience. Castiel's features furled as he realized it was not where it should be. The boy's mind currently resided in the other human lying beside him. That was…unexpected. They were dream sharing. Castiel followed the trail of the younger man's conscience into that of his father's and found himself in a darkened factory in a world that did not exist, built by the power of a Baku.

The angel stared in open surprise at the pipes and walls around him. The hunter whose mind they were in was collapsed on the ground. The young man he had followed here was standing with an arm outstretched at the beast that created this place.

Baku was quite large for its kind, body bloated from the nightmares, hopes, and dreams of many humans. Castiel's gaze hardened on this creature who had clearly lost its way.

The dream beast was born of a god other than his Father, but he had never been intended to do harm. The Baku were peaceful and aided humans in their sleep by eating the various forms of darkness that so easily gripped their fragile minds. This one had gotten greedy.

Castiel gathered his grace, intending to strike the beast. He would purify it and collapse the dream. But before he could, the creature started screaming, his soul crying out in pain as chunks of the darkness he had consumed – and which had consumed him – were violently torn from his being.

The angel transferred a stunned and horrified gaze to the boy with the demon blood, who stood mere feet away. His hand stretched towards the beast, eyes closed in concentration and soul yearning to do good, despite the anger and fear vibrating throughout his body. The terrible darkness within him flared and grew as the boy sourced it for his purpose, trying to cleanse the beast in the most painful of ways.

The angel did not know if he intended such harm, but he had to stop it either way. This purification was cruel. And it was destroying more than its intended victim. The darkness that gave the boy such powers would consume him too if he continued.

Castiel turned to the beast, who writhed and screeched and begged for death in a language the human did not speak. The angel could listen to it no longer. He gathered his power and struck the Baku, smiting the poor creature with the might of Heaven and an explosion of white light.

-o-o-o-

The angel came back to his heavenly body with a deep breath and an ache in his grace he knew no injury was responsible for. The boy with the demon blood woke with a gasp and staggered upright out of the chair he had been asleep in. Panicked eyes sought for his father, who woke far slower. That human had been asleep much longer, the angel could tell, and was the intended victim of the Baku's greed.

Castiel turned to leave, pausing as the boy's soul flared in relief at the first words his father mumbled. The angel knew he should be repulsed by the evil flowing through the human's veins and the manner in which he had sought that power and applied it. But the man's soul swirled with love and hope and care in a way that only humans ever did, and Castiel could not bring himself to be as revolted as he should be.

Evil once more flickered on the edges of his senses, and Castiel turned his gaze and grace upward. The house began to shake, and he knew he was out of time. With a quick look back to the two humans to ensure they were well and truly free of the Baku's hold, followed with a periphery search of the first floor for the humans there as well, Castiel took to the sky as fast as he could before the hoard of demons could overtake the house.

They swarmed the structure as he burst through the roof, clipping at his wings and launching themselves after his quickly fleeing form.

-o-o-o-

There were more of them than there should be. The formless demons giving chase were not only too many in number for Hell's limited presence on Earth, but the swarm seemed no smaller than what had first attacked the hospital. Castiel prayed to his Father that Balthazar had been right about his terrible luck, that their persistence in coming after him and their undiminished numbers were not a sign of his brother's demise.

Castiel flew northwest until he hit the great mountain range that split North America. He turned north and sped ever faster into the wilderness of his Father's creation. The angel raced as fast as his wings could carry him until he sensed no human souls for many miles. He dove into the untamed forests beneath him and landed on the ground in dense woods.

The trees would hamper his own fighting, but the lack of openness would hinder the demons as well, and bottleneck their attempts to surround him from all sides. It was not a great place for battle, but it was better than a human settlement or an open field.

Castiel pulled his blade from his grace, the celestial alloy manifesting atom by atom until it settled in his hand as a comforting weight. The cries and screeches of the approaching hoard filtered through the trees. The great giants rustled and shuddered in the presence of evil, giving Castiel a warning he did not need, before screaming smoke descended through the canopy and was on him.

The Warrior of God cast all thoughts from his mind but those of battle. There were more demons than he had feared, and thoughts of Balthazar facing this alone were terribly hard to banish. But he focused on the fight, knowing he could not learn of his brother's fate if he perished in the forest today.

Demons fell beneath his blade, others smote beneath his terrible, divine wrath. But it was not nearly enough, and the smoke persisted from every side. Castiel was beginning to tire. Their numbers were fewer, but now the formless creatures were hanging back. Those that had attacked with malicious intent and little thought lay dead beneath the angel's feet, black essence soaking the earth. What remained were wiser. Older.

Castiel turned slowly in a circle, regarding each hovering cloud with a glare that dared them to attack. To see what he was worth.

A trill broke the air. One of the demons vibrated, smoke shaking along its wisps and edges. Another joined in, and soon after all remaining demons were screeching with vibrations. Castiel winced at the mounting battle cry, but refused to let it intimidate him. He raised his blade, locking eyes with the leader of the haunt.

A demon broke formation and charged him from the left. Castiel swept his arm to the side, intent to cut the creature down but already knowing it was a trap.

Lighting struck through the forest, striking the demon with the brilliance of God. Castiel shielded his gaze from the smiting as the demons shrieked in sudden fear. Angels descended from the trees, slamming into the ground. A full flight of vesseled warriors, twelve in total, quickly dispatched the remaining demons.

Castiel finished off the creature who floated, dumbfounded, beside him and had intended to end his life only seconds ago. It went down with a gargle and a fizzle. The angel lowered his blade to his side, turning to the flight commander with military discipline.

"Ishim," he greeted his brother with a dip of his head, recognizing the vessel he had once fought beside when he belonged to this unit. The commander did not return the gesture, staring down at the smaller angel with stoicism that bordered on disdain. Of course, Ishim had never much liked Castiel, especially once he had been awarded his own division of soldiers. The commander stowed his blade, and Castiel did the same.

"Castiel. Your presence is not authorized on Earth," he began with no preamble, gesturing to two of his angels. They flanked either side of Castiel but he put up no resistance. The angel had no intention of denying his actions.

"Yes. I will return with you to Heaven to await punishment for my disobedience," he answered by rote, unflinching in his duty. "But I did not travel alone. Balthazar was with me. We were separated and he was injured. We must find him and aid him in battle, need be."

The angel standing just behind Ishim on his left, in a vessel Castiel knew well, stepped forward. Her eyes were sympathetic where her superior's were cold. Benjamin presented Castiel an angel blade, regret coloring the grace behind her vessel's face. Castiel's chest swelled with grief, recognizing Balthazar's blade instantly and the grace dripping from its sharp edge.

"No," he whispered, accepting the weapon with numb fingers.

"Balthazar perished in battle. His blade was all that was left when we arrived," Ishim reported, tone never changing from the bored drawl. Castiel flinched at it, but buried the emotion down deep within his grace. It could be felt another time, when not faced with a reprimand and a garrison of his brothers who had likely saved his life, even if they could not save Balthazar's. "Perhaps it's as I thought, Castiel. You were not ready for your own command."

The words might have caused a flare of indignation and anger in the angel before. Castiel had earned his flight, and under the grueling and often cruel command of Ishim. But such words did not matter now. He barely heard them, staring at the blade of his fallen brother, missing the look of distaste Benjamin sent their superior on Castiel's behalf.

Balthazar was dead.

We should never have come down here.

"Come," Ishim ordered, turning and spreading his wings.

The angels on either side of Castiel took him by the arms, though there was no need. He followed willingly, more than deserving of whatever punishment awaited him.

-o-o-o-

Zachariah regarded the angel before him with distaste. Little upstart, really. But Castiel did not have a record of disobedience, at least not since he had come under the angel's command. He had always been quiet, removed from much of the Host due to his oddities. Unfortunately, most of the Host were still favorable enough towards him, despite those idiosyncrasies. Zachariah didn't much care for him, but, then, he didn't much think of him, either. He was an ant in the farm digging what tunnels he was told to dig.

Unfortunately, his little flare of rebellion, while a relatively minor infraction in any other decade, could all but bring their carefully laid plans to a grinding halt. Things would be so much simpler for the higher ups if Heaven could play ignorant to the machinations of Hell as it stirred up the Apocalypse.

Now, now, Zachariah was going to have to reason out, in front of his men, why a swarm of demons were organized on Earth rather than milling about, causing individual, minor mayhem that Heaven didn't give a shit about.

"There were many," Castiel reported as stoically as the emotion-prone angel was able. He stood, stiff and formal, in the older angel's office. Zachariah could tell he was grieving the loss of his companion and was appeased some, knowing he could use that to his advantage. "More than should be present on Earth. I believe the forces of Hell are up to something."

Zachariah stood from his desk, irritation flaring at the angel's annoyingly accurate words spoken in front of multiple angels that did not need to know such things. "It is not your place to speculate on the movements of the enemy, Castiel."

The angel dipped his head in acknowledgement, but something about it set Zachariah's teeth on edge. Something about Castiel always did, though he'd yet to pinpoint just what that was.

"One of the Host is dead because of your little road trip." The angel flinched, and Zachariah decided to twist the knife to drive his point home. "Had you not endangered your brother, all of your brothers, Balthazar would still be alive."

Castiel's gaze dropped away from his superior, properly chastised. The guilt flowing off him was practically palpable. Perhaps it was the angel's flair for emotion that was the root of Zachariah's dislike.

He settled back at his desk, steepling his hands as he regarded the little upstart. Zachariah considered further punishment – perhaps something to help wipe those nasty emotions out of the soldier once and for all. But it was a tad extreme for a minor offense, and there were two angels in the room companionable to Castiel in ways that could rouse discussion among the masses should he be punished too unfairly.

"You will be demoted, for the time being, to second in command of your flight," Zachariah informed him nonchalantly. "Uriel will lead the unit in your stead."

Castiel dipped his head once more. Nothing in the shifting colors of his grace or the language of his being spoke in protest, and Zachariah was all the more pleased for it. Let the little upstart wallow.

"You will report to Malachi to show him this portal you traveled through and it will be sealed." The angel paused, pursing his lips in thought. "And any others you are aware of."

The angel shook his head in response. "I know only of the one we used. Balthazar was the one who found it."

Which meant he would need to order his men to find any other holes in their defenses and patch those up. When the truth came to light, there would be some in the Host who would surely disagree with Heaven's decision. When that happened, they needed to be locked up tight. Perhaps it was fortuitous that Balthazar had gotten himself killed. He had inadvertently alerted them to a potential security risk. He'd also been on Zachariah's list of angels likely to rebel when the time came.

"Dismissed."

"Sir."

Zachariah raised a brow in the angel's direction when he didn't immediately leave. Had his dismissal been unclear, in some way, or was the angel really just itching for more punishment?

"The demons?"

The lead angel frowned in general confusion. When Castiel didn't say anything more, Zachariah waved the question away for the useless inquiry it was. "They were dealt with. End of story."

"But their numbers-"

"Are not your concern," Zachariah reiterated through clenched teeth, incredulous at the angel still questioning his orders. Perhaps he did need to be reeducated after all. "The only reason demons showed up in the first place was because you and Balthazar decided to take a stroll downstairs. Since that's not happening again anytime soon, problem solved! Unless you plan to get another of your brother's killed?"

The little angel paled horribly, losing all colors across his being. He dipped his head, the guilt that flooded across him in the absence of any other emotion was sadistically rewarding for Zachariah.

"Dismissed, Castiel."

The angel bowed swiftly to his superior and left the room with two attending soldiers. Zachariah watched him leave, something about the little upstart bothering him even worse, now.

"Ramael." He beckoned the angel standing beside his desk, nothing more than a paper pusher, really, but one that could be easily cajoled into loyalty and obedience. He liked that in an angel. "Where was Castiel picked up?"

Ramael straightened to attention and glanced down at the stack of forms he was holding, running a finger along the report. "The Northern Territories of Canada. North American continent. He was a far distance from any human civilization, in a place called the Tlicho Lands. Location: sixty three point three eight nine degrees latitude by-"

Zachariah waved him into silence, five of his six faces clearly telling the subordinate to shut up. He stared at the closed doors of his office the little upstart had passed through less than a minute ago. An unpleasant thought was mixing with that annoyed feeling Castiel always caused in him.

"And where are the Winchesters now?"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Castiel sat on the park bench in Arthur Staten's heaven, but he could not bring himself to enjoy the beauty and splendor of the man's world today. The loss of his brother stung more than any wound, and the guilt of his death ran deep.

He had not told Zachariah the reason for their disobedience in the first place, because his superior had not asked. Part of Castiel wondered if that, too, was disobedience. An omission of the truth was not the same as lying, but it could be argued a crime all its own.

Still, the matter seemed behind them, and Castiel tried to leave it there. It was difficult, as his mind did not seem to be in tune with his grace. Despite great efforts to move on from the tragedy of Balthazar, however honorable his death had been in battle, Castiel could not stop his mind from lingering. Questioning.

There were too many things not fitting into place. The number of demons present in one location, the swarm that acted more like bees in defense of a hive than demons on the hunt, the swiftness with which they were on him and Balthazar, and then again on him. It was like they had been waiting – ready – for the angels.

Which made no sense, given that he and Balthazar had not premeditated their trip to Earth before that day. So if not the two of them specifically, were the demons expecting angels in general?

Why would hell spawn be organized on Earth, awaiting Heaven's response?

Something dark and ugly rooted itself in Castiel's lower torso. He did not know what it was, and part of him did not want to know what it was, but he knew it was nothing good.

Obey.

That quiet, compelling voice which often spoke to him when he sought revelation had returned some days ago. It usually found him in places like Arthur's park, when he sat in the silence of a human's mind and looked for peace. Unless in the presence of Balthazar. It never had much to say, then. His grace ached at the realization that his brother would never again be there to quiet the voice that demanded obedience and silenced his questioning.

But not listening to it is what got his brother killed in the first place.

Resolve filled Castiel like a leaden weight and he stood from the bench. He pushed his worries and doubts, the ugly knots in his torso and mind, and the fragmented thoughts of disobedience far, far away from him. If the human prayed again, he vowed not to hear his pleas, not to feel the curiosity, or answer the yearning call to come to his aid.

He was an Angel of the Lord. A Warrior of God.

He served Heaven. He did not serve man.

The angel left the Arthur's paradise to return to his brothers and resume his heavenly duties.