More time passed. Years, in fact. And with each day, Castiel felt like he was falling deeper and deeper in love with Catherine. It was a strange sensation; love. Not one he was very familiar with. They kept up with almost all their daily routines in that time; with one small difference. Eventually, people stopped going to the square seeking to be healed. Castiel had done his job, and he knew it would only be a matter of time before he would be reassigned somewhere else. He didn't want to worry Catherine though, so he kept it a secret and prayed his older brothers would allow him to stay.

One night, during a heavy snow storm, Castiel sat by the fire, feeling . . . Fatigue. That wasn't supposed to happen.

"What's the matter Love?" Catherine asked him, noticing his change in expression. "You look ill. Do you have a fever?"

Castiel shook his head and yawned. Yawning? He had never done that before. "I am . . . Tired."

"Thought angels didn't need sleep," Margret said.

Cas nodded. "They don't."

Margret looked puzzled, but Catherine decided to let it be as it was. Obviously something was bothering him. "You can use my bed," she told him. "Maggie and I will share tonight."

Cas didn't bother arguing. He simply nodded his thanks and disappeared up the stairs to where the beds were now kept. The one Catherine had been sleeping in when Castiel first met her had since been chopped up and used for firewood upon its breaking.

"I'm tired as well," Margret said. "I think I might have caught a cold."

Catherine bit her lip. "Better hope not. Last thing I need is a sick little sister. Come on let's go up to bed."

They followed Castiel's path up the stairs, however when they reached the bedroom they found that he was already asleep. They climbed into the empty bed; next to each other.

"Maggie, how old are you?" Catherine asked quietly.

"Be 16 soon," Margret mumbled. She was already half-way asleep.

"Should be finding you a husband then," Catherine said. "Should have done so already . . . You're getting too old."

Margret lifted her head and stared at her sister. "Catherine . . . Do you want to be rid of me?"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed, though she managed to keep her voice in a whisper. She didn't want to wake her angel-man. "I just don't want people to look at you the way they look at me is all . . ."

"People don't look at you strange," Margret told her. "And if they do they shouldn't. You've got a good reason for being your age and not being married. And I'm sure Castiel will purpose eventually . . . once he figures out how."

Catherine couldn't help but giggle lightly at her sister's joke. "Nonsense . . . He's an angel. He's got heavenly duties. And he can't age . . . Imagine how well that kind of relationship would last. Besides, I'm an old hag. He deserves someone better."

"You love him; he loves you, what more is there to it?" Margret asked.

Catherine sighed and tucked a lock of blond hair behind Maggie's ear. "Maybe someday marriage will only matter about love, as it should. But right now? It's not like that . . ."

"Mother and Father loved each other, didn't they?"

"I'm sure they came to love each other. . . You know their marriage was arranged though," Catherine replied. "Margret, I'm only trying to look out for you. Just as I always have."

"You gave your life up for me, Catherine. Any chance you had of being married or having a real life with someone you ignored so you could take care of me—most of all after our parents died. Promise me if Castiel wishes so, you'll marry him? Even if you think it's unwise, please just promise me."

After a moment of silence, Catherine nodded. "Very well," she agreed. "I promise."

Castiel stayed perfectly still. They must not have realized their whispers woke him up; and he'd rather keep it that way. Especially after what he had just heard. Catherine wanted to marry him?

He'd better ask quickly then.

The next morning, the three of them awoke to the sound of swooshing wings. The same sound that came from Castiel when he suddenly appeared in the house.

Margret, Catherine, and Castiel all sat straight up in their beds. Who else could fly in like that? Standing before them was a handsome man, probably in his early twenties, with fair hair and dark eyes. He looked only at Castiel. "Hello, Brother."

Castiel nodded. "Michael."

Michael turned to face the other bed. "Catherine and Margret Greene. It's a pleasure to meet you. If you'd please excuse me, I'd like a moment alone with my younger brother."

Catherine nodded. "Uh . . . Not at all, sir. Please, take your time. We'll just—"

The rest of her sentence went unheard, because Castiel and Michael now stood in an open field. Cas would have mistaken it for the one behind their house it was so similar, only here it appeared to be midsummer. There was a light breeze. "The heaven of Frederick Smith?"

Michael nodded. "I know you once liked to frequent here, Castiel. Come and walk with me. There is much to discuss."

Castiel fell in line with his brother's steps. "Such as?"

"You're work appears to be done in that town," Michael stated. Castiel gulped. He knew this was coming . . . "However, I don't think asking you to leave is necessary. Not since you seem to be comfortable there. We've almost eliminated the plague from most of Europe anyway. Hardly the main matter of this meeting."

"What then?"

"Did you sleep well?" Michael asked in return.

Castiel nodded. "It was refreshing."

"I've been wondering what it felt like to sleep," Michael told him. "Because, as you know angels do not need such forms of rest. Not unless wounded or the like. I haven't slept in so long I've nearly forgotten what it feels like."

"What are you implying?"

Michael stopped walking and faced Cas. "You're falling, brother. Fast and hard."

"What do you mean, 'falling'?"

"Your grace. Even now I can see it fading. You are becoming human," Michael told him. "Just thought I should warn you."

Castiel shook his head. "No . . . I can't be. I've done nothing against our Father."

"You've fallen in love with a human," Michael told him. "Plan to marry her, I know. But being around her as made you more human. You're feeling and experiencing things that we are not meant to. You might not have done wrong—but you have reached a place angels shouldn't walk. I beg you to head warn and take action."

"What action would that be? Leaving her?" Castiel asked. "No!"

Michael sighed and shook his head. "What future could you have with her, Brother? Think of all the aspects. Even if you do fall, will you be able to age along with her? What will happen to your vessel when there are two human souls inside of it? What would happen if she asked you for children? Castiel you cannot give Catherine the life that you want to give her. If you stay she'll only be put through more pain and agony from loving you. If you leave now before it's too late—you might be able to save the both of you."

Castiel's head dropped. "You cannot ask this of me."

"Remember your responsibilities, Castiel," Michael told him. "Your commitments. You can't just drop everything, become human, and live the life of one. You're meant for more than that. More than them."

"Careful," Castiel warned; his eyes narrowed. "You're starting to sound like Lucifer."

"Perhaps he had some good points about him," Michael said. "He was, after all, our brother. Maybe after another few millennia, Father will think he's learned his lesson and allow him back home. But that's not important now."

"I do not wish to leave Catherine," Castiel told him. "Is there no other way?"

"We know nothing of fallen angels," Michael told him. "It is an extreme rarity. You know this. Now, let us return to your human company. We've been gone for quite some time . . . They might have started to worry. You can give me your answer at sundown."

They now stood in the downstairs room of the house. Margret was sitting at the table, chopping carrots, and Catherine was standing over the stove, cooking something. Castiel recognized the scent.

"Not often Castiel's family comes to visit," Margret told Michael, a smile on her face. "We thought we'd make it special."

"Stew!" Castiel exclaimed.

Catherine smiled at him. "You love stew, right?"

Margret snickered. She looked back over at Michael. "So you are staying for supper then?"

"Supper?" Castiel repeated.

Margret nodded. "You've been gone all day!"

Castiel looked at Michael expectantly, hoping he'd refuse the offer. However, he instead nodded and said, "Why thank you for the invitation! I would be honored to dine in the House of Greene."

Fifteen minutes later, Castiel had set the table and Catherine had finished the stew, and Maggie was going around with the ladle making sure everyone got some.

"This is delicious," Michael told Catherine. "Never before have I tasted such a thing. What did you say it was called again?"

She chuckled. "Stew."

"I'll have to show our other brothers and sisters some time," Michael said.

"There are female angels?" Margret asked. "I never knew that!"

"Of course," Castiel told her. "And they have just as many rights as the men. Treated equally and everything . . ."

Margret's jaw dropped. "No!"

Michael nodded and continued off of his younger brother. "Indeed. And in a few hundred years, humans will have reached the same point. It's all rather fascinating, really. You're a funny species. Never really understood why the men decided the women weren't equal to them and cast them down . . . Human males appear to commonly have a lower IQ however . . ."

Margret and Catherine stared at him, not understanding a single word.

Michael pushed his chair away from the table. "Well, it appears to be sundown. I must be off. Many things to do back home . . . Castiel would you be so kind as to walk me out?"

"Of course, Brother," Castiel agreed. He, too, rose from the table.

When the two of them were outside, Michael leaned over and whispered, "Well?"

Castiel looked back into the house. He watched as Catherine cleared the table, and Margret laughed about something she said. A small smile was etched on Catherine's face. Could he really stand being responsible for breaking her heart? But it was either that or taking away her ability to find a man to be happy with. "Where do you need me?"

Michael smiled and patted his back. "I knew you'd make the right decision! I'll meet you tomorrow in Harrison Wright's eternal paradise . . . We can talk more then."

Castiel nodded. "Yes. Tomorrow then."

"Leaving?" Catherine asked. She had tears in her eyes. "What do you mean you're leaving?"

Castiel had laid out all the personal belongings he had acquired over the years on the table, and was busy packing them into a sack he could take with him. "Michael talked to me about it last night . . . He wishes for me to be assigned to another town somewhere else and heal them as I did this one."

Margret almost smiled. "So this is just temporary then?"

Castiel wouldn't meet their eyes. "I'm afraid not."

"What do you mean?!" Catherine shrieked. "Why wouldn't you come back when your work is done?!"

"There will always be more towns," Castiel told them. "My work never ceases."

Margret used the back of her hand to wipe her eyes. "You'll at least visit?"

No. Of course he wouldn't. Michael wouldn't allow it. Unless . . . "Of course. Whenever you'd like. If ever you need me, just pray to me and I will hear."

"Please don't go," Catherine whispered as he closed the sack. "Please."

Cas sighed and took her hands in his own. "I truly wish that it didn't have to be this way."

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his lips, and he kissed her back. When they broke apart she muttered, "I love you."

She was very bloody good at making this much harder. "I love you too."

Swoosh. "Hurry, Brother!"

Castiel turned around. "Michael—what are you doing here?"

"I got tired of waiting," he replied. "Come, it is time for you to go."

He took one final look at Catherine. Tears were streaming down her face and her lip was trembling. He didn't want to leave her.

But what other choice did he have? He knew what he had to do to make sure she would be happy—even if it meant he would forever live with the huge hole he could feel growing in his chest.

It took all his strength to turn away from her. He faced Margret now. He brushed a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "Maggie, Maggie . . . Take care of your sister for me."

She nodded, holding back tears as well. "You know I will."

"Pray if you need me," Castiel told her. "I promise I'll be here as fast as I can."

He didn't notice it, but Michael's body shifted when he said that. Catherine dismissed it immediately, thinking nothing of it.

Margret gave him a quick squeeze. "Good luck, Castiel, sir." She smiled at him.

He stepped away from her and walked towards the door, Michael following close behind.

"Off you go then, Angel-Man," Catherine muttered as the door shut behind him.

"He'll be back," Margret told her.

Catherine shook her head. "No . . . You know he won't."

And she had known. Ever since he first entered their home, laid a hand on her forehead and heeled her she had known he was going to leave and never come back. She had assumed it would be after that first night—but it wasn't. He had come back and dined with them. And stayed for a long, long time. This goodbye was overdue. But that didn't make it any less painful.

A few months passed. Catherine had sat down at the foot of her bed with her hands together and her eyes shut every night; preparing to do the thing she wanted most. Pray to Castiel. But every night she stopped herself. That is, until she realized how much she truly needed him.

Margret's cold had continued to get worse after the night Castiel slept. It turned into a fever, and from that it just got worse and worse. Eventually, she was completely bedridden.

"I'm sorry," she told her older sister. "I wish I didn't have to leave you alone."

"Nonsense," Catherine replied. "You're not going anywhere."

"Cat . . . I can feel it," Margret said. "I'm never getting up from his bed."

And that was when Catherine had done it. She gave in and prayed. Soft at first, but eventually her volume reached the point where it could be considered yelling. She said the same four words, over and over. "CASTIEL, I NEED YOU! CASTIEL, I NEED YOU!"

But the angel did not come.

"YOU BASTARD!" she shrieked. "YOU PROMISED!"

There was still no response. Not that she had expected one. It was then she considered the impossible—the thing she had sworn never to do. But Margret was dying, and desperate times called for desperate measures.

There was rumor of woman in town. A woman who could give you whatever you wanted and asked for nothing in return but your soul. But this woman—her eyes were red and she worked for the Devil. Everyone knew it. Only the brave dared to venture out and talk to her.

Catherine always had been the brave one . . .

She made the journey alone, telling Margret she would be running errands in town and probably wouldn't be home for a few hours. When she reached the place she knew the woman always would appear, she closed her eyes and waited. The crossroads were empty that morning from travelers, thank God. If anyone were to see her . . .

"Well, well," a female voice said. "Catherine Greene. Last person I'd expect to see here."

Catherine opened her eyes. Standing before her was a raven-haired woman, dressed from head to toe in black. As rumored, her eyes were completely red. "How do you know my name?"

"Well, when and angel falls in love with a human, word tends to go around," the woman said.

"Castiel does not love me," Catherine told her. "Or else I would not be here. I need something."

"Helping people is my job," the woman said, spreading her arms wide. "What is it I can do for you?"

Catherine swallowed and stepped forward, telling herself to be brave for her sister. "My younger sister is dying—I need you to make her well again."

"Easy."

Catherine's heart rose up in her chest; hopeful. "Really?"

"Of course. But, it will come at a price."

"I'll give you anything," Catherine agreed."

"Your soul."

Catherine let that sink in. "You really work for Satan then?"

The woman nodded. "In a sense. Big guy's been locked up for some time now—but I make the deals for him now, yes. So; are we in agreement? I'll make little Margret all better, and in five years I'll come around to collect your dues."

"Five?!" Catherine repeated, outraged. "I've heard others say ten!"

"You aren't others," the demon informed her. "I'm taking a risk by talking to you right now. Do you know how much trouble I'd be in if my coworkers were to learn that I'm striking deals with an angel's whore?"

Catherine ignored that last comment. She took a deep breath. "Very well. Just . . . Just save Maggie."

The woman smirked, grabbed Catherine from behind her head and pulled her into a kiss. Catherine was once again thankful that the road was so empty. She'd be stoned had anyone seen such a thing!

Then the demon was gone and Catherine stood alone. When she returned home, she found Margret waiting for her in the kitchen. It had worked.

And in five years—she would die.

Castiel looked around at his brothers and sisters. They were all finally home—their job had been finished. The plague was completely gone from Europe at last. Sure, there were still small cases here and there, but it wasn't possible for them to save everybody.

Castiel stood there among them, though he felt separated from the festivities. Everyone was currently busy watching Rachel teach Uriel to dance—and failing miserably. It was quite comical.

"Five and a half years," Anna said to him.

His head snapped up to meet his sister's eyes. "What do you mean?"

"That's how long it's been," she told him. "Since you've seen that girl. Catherine. Has she not prayed to you?"

Castiel shook his head. "No . . . I haven't heard from her or Margret since I left. I expect that to mean that I'm not welcomed anymore."

Anna looked at him, and saw his sadness. She hated seeing her brother that way. She glanced at Michael. Was it safe to tell him? Michael had forbidden it . . . But then again, Anna had always been the most rebellious angel of them all. "Castiel, listen to me carefully. That is not true."

"How should you know?" Cas asked.

"They have been praying to you," Anna told him. "Very often in fact. Michael has been blocking their words from you so that you can't hear. He fears you'll return to them and become human."

Castiel's eyes flashed with anger. "Are you sure?!"

Anna nodded. "And Brother, there's one other thing. Catherine . . . She's sold her soul to the Crossroads Demon."

At hearing that, Castiel didn't even think about what he did next. It kind of just . . . Happened. He was suddenly standing in the main room of Catherine's house.

He saw her there, sitting by the window; looking out. She hadn't heard him enter, so to make his presence known he cleared his throat.

She turned towards him. Her eyes grew wide as though she didn't believe what she was seeing. "Angel-Man . . ."

She stood up and ran into his arms. All thoughts of hatred and abandonment she had had over the years dissolved in and instant. He had come back to her—and on today of all days.

"Catherine," he spoke softly into her hair. "What have you done?"

"I prayed to you," she told him. "Every night."

"I'm sorry," he said. And that was all he could say. There was nothing more. "How long do you have?"

They still hadn't split apart, and Catherine didn't plan on doing so anytime soon. "Margret was dying—I had to do something."

"How long?" he said again. More urgently.

"She's married now," Catherine continued. "Happy with her husband. Expecting their second child . . ."

"How long?!" he shook her slightly.

"Judging by the hour? A few minutes at best."

Tears stung in his eyes. "I'll save you," he promised her, and began to pull away.

She clung tighter to him. "No. Don't leave me, please. Not again. You can't do anything now—it's too late. So please . . ."

He nodded. "I promise."

"Castiel," she said. "Please remember—I still love you. I love you so much . . . More than I should. Even after all this time."

"I love you too," he told her. "And I always will. I'll find a way to save you, Catherine I promise . . ."

"Don't you dare," she told him. Though her face was still buried in his shoulder, he could tell by her shaking shoulders that she was crying. "You can't risk it. If you try to bring me back, Maggie may die. You can't, Castiel. You mustn't."

He squeezed her even tighter. "I can't just let you rot in hell."

"Yes you can. You must. Promise me that you will not bring me back. Even if you can . . . Once I die I should stay dead."

A crashing noise came from behind, but neither of them had to lift their heads to know what it was. Hellhounds.

"Goodbye, Love," Catherine whispered. Moments later she was ripped from Castiel's arms. Faintly, he could hear her screaming as the invisible monsters tore her to shreds. He was pretty sure he screamed too. And tried to fight them off with his sword. But whenever he looked back on that moment, the only thing he could remember was a loud ringing in his ears. Too loud to hear anything else.

Approximately 660 years later

Castiel could hear her voice from the hall. She was on the phone with the Winchesters, telling them that he had finally awoken. He felt . . . Strange. Different—but not necessarily in a bad way.

Meg reentered the room and met his eyes. "Well, good morning, Sunshine."

"I didn't want to believe it," Castiel told her. "But I can see it now . . . I can see who you are, Meg."

Her eyebrows creased. "What are you talking about?"

"I thought when you kissed me . . . But I dismissed it," he continued. "Even though I had heard rumors that you were back . . . Even though I had seen all the signs. I had convinced myself to dismiss it. But now, my head is clear . . . And I know. Catherine, I—"

"SHH!" she exclaimed. She ran over from the door way and slapped a hand over his mouth. "Never speak my name! Do you know how dangerous that could be?!"

When her palm finally fell away from his mouth, Castiel once again began talking. "Do you remember me?"

Was Meg actually blushing? "Of course . . ." she said. "I could never forget. Even if I tried."

"Why did you not tell me?" He took her hand. "I've spent so long thinking I'd never see you again . . ."

"You won't," she told him. "I'm not Catherine Greene anymore, Castiel. You know that. I'm a demon now . . . I'm different."

Never had he heard Meg use such a serious tone. It was strange. But also made the situation seem more real. He shook his head. "No. You may have changed over the years, but you're still her. Somewhere deep, deep down. I can sense it."

Meg ignored him and decided to change the subject. "Did you stay in touch with Margret?"

Castiel shook his head. "I couldn't bear to become close to her . . . I had already lost you—I didn't need to lose your sister as well. I did keep an eye on here, however. She lived a full and happy life. Many children and grandchildren . . . If you'd believe me I'm almost positive Sam and Dean are two of her descendants. Though there isn't much of a way to be sure . . ."

Meg snorted. "Pretty boys are my nephews then? Great. Wish I could tell them that . . ."

"Why can't you?" Castiel asked her, taking her hands. "Don't you want them to know?"

Meg shook her head. "I can't trust them with that much personal information—not yet. And you can't either. Promise me you won't say a word, Cas."

He was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Okay, Meg."

She actually smiled, though only for a second. "Thank you, Angel-Man."