Yep, that's right people this is ANOTHER S8 AU. I think I've written about five now LOL. After writing Caretaker, I really wanted some more happy Megstiel so I decided to write this one shot AU for Goodbye Stranger where Meg doesn't die and Cas doesn't run off. Aside from that, this is kind of a tag to my story Caretaker, though you don't need to read it to understand this fic, there's just a couple references from it I used here as well, like how Cas sees Meg's true form and the sketch he draws her. In any case, I hope you enjoy the happy Megstiel feels :)

A Rare Creature

A Supernatural Fanfic

Castiel was halfway across the country before he stopped. He was in the middle of a forest, the night sounds hushed and soothing, and he just stood and stared at the Angel Tablet in his hands. It was important, he knew it was important, but other images flashed behind his eyes: Dean backing away from him, on his knees, bleeding, and possibly worse of all, the way he had cringed away with real fear when Castiel had reached out to heal him.

Castiel had made his decision. He slipped the tablet into the inside pocket of his trench coat and flew back to the crypt, just in time to see the Winchesters peeling down the road in the Impala. Both safe, both making their escape. This eased some of Castiel's anxiety. At least they had gotten away. He was afraid that Crowley might have shown up or worse, Naomi. After he had broken her tie with him—at least he was pretty sure his touching the tablet had broken that tie—he was certain she would make an appearance to see what had happened. And Sam and Dean and Meg would have been caught right in the crossfire.

He was about to fly again, get as far away as possible, when a sudden thought occurred to him. Meg had not been with the Winchesters in the Impala, so where was she?

It was possible she could have made her own way to wherever she was going to now, but Castiel wasn't quite happy with that explanation, so he flew back to the empty lot outside the warehouse where they had found the opening to the crypt.

As he stood there in the silence, surveying the area, he heard a barely audible gasp that had his senses on high alert. Castiel could sense a demonic presence, and figured one must not have been finished off quite properly. He reached for his angel blade. He would rectify that soon enough.

As he strode forward though, he was startled to find a familiar figure on the ground instead. He recognized the human skin first, and then, looking deeper, the demon, all roses and thorns.

Meg.

Something pulled deep in his chest and he hurried the last few feet, crouching beside the pitiful figure, soaked in blood and the filth of the street.

"Meg," Castiel whispered, his throat constricting as he reached toward her hesitantly, conflicting emotions surging through him. He rolled her over onto her back and cradled her head in one hand, eyes roving her body to see the other damage. Her face was covered in blood and there were several tears in her clothing, but the stab wound in her stomach was the worst, obviously mistaken for a mortal blow. But Meg was still somehow clinging to life, even if it was a very near thing.

"Meg," he called again, a little louder this time, and she finally stirred, eyes blinking open to look at him. The look in her bleary gaze tore him up the rest of the way inside. There was such surprise and welcome joy—so different than what he had seen in Dean's eyes less than an hour ago. He didn't feel he deserved it.

"Clarence, you came for me," she said, her voice thick with pain, but she still offered a small smile. "Thought you were long gone."

"What happened?" Castiel asked, anger rising in him as he looked over her wounds again. "I told Sam to look after you…"

"And I told him to run," she said then coughed, gasping for breath. Castiel pulled her up into his arms, cradling her gently. She rested her head against his chest for a moment, sinking against him with a sigh of relief. "S'not their fault. Much as I hate to admit it." She coughed again.

"Hush," Castiel told her firmly and stood, her slight body weighing nothing in his arms. He had gotten her hurt too. When would he stop causing pain to the people he cared about? "I'll get you taken care of. I—I'm not leaving you this time."

"You really are a rare creature, aren't you?" she mused, smiling as if sharing some private joke. "My hero."

He gave her a pained smile, then turned, looking around. There was really only one option. He didn't want to do this. Not so soon after everything, but the Winchesters were his only option for sanctuary. They had the bunker now, which should keep Castiel and Meg off the map for at least a while if what they had told him about the warding was true. At least long enough for Castiel to make sure Meg was taken care of; then he would continue on with his plan to get as far away as possible from his friends, to keep both them and the Tablet safe.

He didn't know exactly where the bunker was, but once he got to Lebanon, Kansas, he was able to find the spot where it felt like nothing was, and that was how he found the bunker, the Impala parked outside, and warded just as well as Sam and Dean promised. Meg was unconscious by now, the angel travel obviously too much for her to handle in her current state.

Thinking again of what he had almost done to Dean nearly had him flying away again to find some other sanctuary, but he quickly decided against it. He was going to have to face the brothers again at some point, it was inevitable, so he may as well do it sooner rather than later.

He shifted Meg so he could knock on the door and it wasn't long before he heard footsteps and the door creaked open, the barrel of a gun appearing first and then Dean's cautious face.

The hunter's eyes looked wary at first when he saw Castiel, but then they instantly blew wide in shock as he saw the angel's bloody charge.

"What the hell?" Dean demanded, stowing his gun in his waistband and throwing the door open further.

"Dean, I—" Castiel hesitated then continued. "I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but Meg is hurt, and I had no where else to take her. Please, can she stay here?"

Dean just stared at him as Castiel's anxiety and guilt grew, but then the hunter finally swallowed and shook himself before stepping away from the door. "Yeah, of course, Cas."

Castiel gratefully entered the bunker and followed Dean down the stairs that led to a large open room with a map table. Sam came into the room to see what was going on, and his mouth opened as he saw Castiel and Meg.

"Cas? Oh, god, is she…" He clapped his mouth shut suddenly, guilt flashing over his features.

"She's still alive," Castiel said more gruffly than he had intended. It wasn't really Sam's fault; still, Castiel was angry about Meg's condition. If he hadn't been under Naomi's influence, Meg wouldn't have been in this mess; he wouldn't have beaten Dean within an inch of his life and then run away. This whole situation was a disaster.

"Cas, I'm sorry," Sam told him, shaking his head. "We saw her get stabbed, we didn't know…"

"Sam, it's alright," Castiel snapped at him then instantly regretted his tone. "I—I'm sorry."

Sam shook his head. "No, we should have gone back for her."

"Hey, if we're gonna clean her up, we gotta stop talking," Dean cut in sharply. "Sam, I told you to rest, Cas and I can handle this."

Sam gave him a 'bitchface'. "I'm not just gonna go to bed like a five-year-old, Dean."

"Then go get some bandages," Dean told him. Castiel suddenly had the thought that maybe Dean didn't want Sam to be around him; afraid Castiel might attack them at any time. That saddened him more than he could say.

"Come on, Cas, there's a ton of extra bedrooms; you can put her in one of them," Dean told him, more gently, and led him down a long corridor, opening one of the doors to reveal a spartan bedroom with a bed, a desk, and a dresser.

Castiel lay Meg down on the bed, wincing as he was able to see her wounds more clearly in the light and noticed Dean staring at her with a grim expression too.

"Don't demons, you know, heal fast or whatever?" Dean asked after a second.

"A bit," Castiel said. "I'm not entirely sure. It also looks like an angel blade was used on her. They were forged for fighting demons." He looked up at the hunter. "Did you see who…?"

"Crowley," Dean bit out.

Castiel's face darkened and he nodded, having expected as much. He reached down to brush some hair off Meg's cheek. The fact that he had let Crowley kill her after everything only made him angrier.

"Can't you just…use your mojo to heal her?" Dean ventured.

"Angels weren't….programmed to heal demons, Dean. Many would consider that counterproductive." Because angels weren't supposed to care about demons. They weren't supposed to have…feelings for them, confused or otherwise.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I guess it would be."

Castiel was silent, feeling the weight of the Angel Tablet in his pocket, a comfortable presence, even though it was a sought after commodity that he would certainly be killed for if anyone, angels or demons, happened to find him. "Dean," he said after a moment. "The Tablet…touching it broke my tie with Naomi, with Heaven. I promise my mind is clear. I am no danger to you or Sam."

Dean swallowed hard and Castiel wondered if he was remembering the impact of the angel's fists the same as Castiel was, just from the other end. "I believe you, Cas. Besides, I can't really see the angel who beat the hell out of me dragging his dying demon girlfriend here for tips on first aid."

Castiel gave him a grateful look before he turned back to Meg, trying to fully assess her wounds.

Dean stood there for a second, looking like he wasn't sure how to be helpful, but he finally shifted and said, "I'll go help Sam collect the first aid stuff."

Castiel nodded, still studying Meg's limp form lying on the bed. He made a swift decision and started to pull her torn and bloody clothes off. His cheeks burned slightly as this action left her in only her underwear but he needed access to her wounds and the clothes were so filthy, she would have to change them anyway.

She stirred as he was awkwardly pulling her jeans off, and he felt even more embarrassment as he saw her eyes open into slits and heard her chuckle slightly.

"So you finally have the guts to undress me and I'm in no condition to appreciate it. Just my luck," Meg croaked, smirking at him as well as she could with her split lip.

His face flamed even more and he pulled a blanket from the end of the bed to drape over her body. "I am only trying to tend your wounds." Of course, recalling their discussion from earlier about wound-tending didn't exactly help to quell his mortification.

"You're cute when you're flustered, Clarence," Meg told him with something very akin to fondness that made him look at her more closely, but her eyes were closed again and he could detect the barely concealed wince that she wasn't quite willing to show.

Dean and Sam came back in with the first aid kit and a bowl of water and washcloths, which they set on the side table. Dean rested a hand on Castiel's shoulder, bringing the angel back to reality.

"We should get her cleaned up first," he said gently, seeming to realize the angel was lost in dark thoughts. "Then we can work on closing that wound."

Castiel nodded and grabbed one of the washcloths as Dean started to set out the stuff they would need. Sam stood by a bit awkwardly, waiting to offer assistance. Cas carefully washed the blood from Meg's face first, then modestly reached under the blanket to clean the rest of her body. Meg winced as he dabbed at the wound in her stomach and cracked her eyes open with a smile of amusement.

"I'm not exactly shy, Castiel. Besides, Sam and I have shared a body, and I don't think Dean's that much of a prude. We can all be professional here?" She looked slyly up at the Winchesters, intent obvious.

Now it was Dean's turn to look awkward, and Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Cas…uh…call us if you need help," Dean told him and nodded to Sam before they beat a hasty retreat.

Meg chuckled. "They're almost worse than you."

Castiel shook his head at her before turning her blanket down and working on cleaning the rest of her wounds. "This will need stitches," he commented as he gently dabbed at the stab wound, just to the right of her navel, still bleeding sluggishly. He pressed on it a bit and Meg hissed and arched her back at the pain. Castiel snatched his hand away and apologized before continuing more gently.

"Castiel," Meg finally said, breaking the silence, and the looked up from the wound to meet her eyes. "What happened back at the crypt?"

He shook his head. "You should rest, Meg, you were dealt a grievous blow."

"Come on, don't think I can't see it. You and Dean are tiptoeing around each other. What happened? If you don't want me to talk, then the least you can do is fill the awkward silence."

Castiel sighed but gave in, and as he worked on the demon's wounds, he told Meg everything he had told Dean about Naomi—at least what he himself understood about the whole situation. He was still a little fuzzy as was to be expected when someone had been messing around inside of his head.

"I almost killed him," he finished, pain in his voice as he tied off the last stitch he applied to Meg's wound. "I—I would never have forgiven myself."

"But you didn't," Meg told him, her voice almost gentle, a memory from when he was insane and she was his caretaker. It instantly brought some calm to his inner fears. "That's what matters, isn't it? Dean and Sam are your family, you know deep down you would never kill them."

"But all the things Naomi made me do. I remember…I remember killing Dean a thousand times in practice. It was…horrible." He shuddered and closed his eyes for a moment, before he felt her small hand wrapped around his and he folded her fingers into his palm for a brief second before he reached for the bandages. "And you. What happened to you…"

"What about it?" she challenged.

"You almost died," he said sternly, angry at everything, at the fact he couldn't seem to keep the people he cared about safe. "If I hadn't been Naomi's puppet I wouldn't have nearly killed Dean and run off. I wouldn't have left you for Crowley to find. Again."

"Hey, that wasn't your fault," Meg informed him. "You think I would have quit life that soon after finally getting free again?"

Castiel knew the pain showed in his eyes from the way Meg looked at him. He looked away and finished up the bandages, then mumbled that he would be right back and left the room to wash her blood off his hands in the bathroom across the hall.

Sam found him there, and cleared his throat. Castiel turned, somewhat wary to see the younger Winchester.

"How is she?" Sam asked, hands in his pockets.

"I think she'll be okay with some rest," Castiel said. "Her survival so far is a good sign. But I'll feel better if she starts healing tomorrow."

"Cas, I am so sorry," Sam said, brow furrowing in guilt. "I shouldn't have left her. I know how much you care about her."

Castiel exhaled a short breath. "We all made mistakes tonight," he said. "I'm just glad it wasn't worse on both accounts."

Sam's throat bobbed and he looked down suddenly. "Yeah. Cas…I know you weren't you when you…you know. And Dean, he doesn't blame you. We're just glad that you're okay. But you know you can always come to us for help. That's what family is for."

Castiel felt a surge of gratitude for his adoptive family. Sam had just forgiven him in ways that Naomi and the other angels never had. They had sought to break Castiel, to fix him. Make him into something he wasn't. They had given him a second chance, only they had done it by replacing the parts they didn't like; not by accepting him for who he was like Sam and Dean had. Of course he had made mistakes, they all had, but they all knew each other's dark sides and they didn't hold that against him. That was what true family did. Hearing that now made Castiel feel moderately better.

"Thank you, Sam," Castiel said quietly, meeting Sam's eyes and gaining a small smile from the younger Winchester.

Sam nodded and turned to leave. Castiel dried his hands off and went to head back to Meg's room when Sam called to him again.

"Hey um, here's something clean for Meg to wear. We don't have any girls' clothes but you can tell her we'll pick her up something tomorrow," Sam said, handing Castiel one of his shirts that would be big enough for a nightgown on Meg. "For the record, she really cares about you, Cas. We all do, for that matter." He flashed a quick smile. "Maybe not quite in the same way, though."

Castiel took the shirt and managed a small smile. "Thank you again, Sam." He cocked his head to one side, practically feeling the exhaustion rolling off the younger Winchester and the seemingly incurable wounds hiding under his skin from the Trials. "But Dean is right, you should rest. You're exhausted."

Sam's brow pinched slightly but he conceded with a nod. "I was going to. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Castiel said quietly before turning back down the hall to Meg's room.

She was resting when he got there, but her eyes opened when he entered the room. "Took you long enough. Think you could bring me a drink?"

"Alcohol won't help your condition," Castiel told her firmly and then handed her the shirt. "You should rest. Sam says they will get you better clothing in the morning."

She sighed slightly, shifting to sit up with a wince. "A little help?" She raised an eyebrow.

Castiel awkwardly propped her up and helped slip the shirt over her head. It swallowed her small frame and the collar slipped off one shoulder in a way that made his mouth inexplicably dry. He busied himself with cleaning up the first aid stuff so she wouldn't notice.

"You're brooding," Meg informed him.

"I said to rest." He turned, slightly annoyed, and saw her still sitting up against the pillows, watching him.

"You know you're kinda hot when you get all commanding." She smirked. "What's wrong, Castiel?"

What was wrong? He didn't rightly know. So many things were wrong. He knew he was going to leave, should have already, but didn't know whether he should do it tonight or tomorrow. He knew Meg was out of danger, and besides, there wasn't much he could do for her either way, and he feared that the longer he stayed here, warding or not, the angels would eventually show up and take out his disobedience on everyone he cared about before they dragged him back to Heaven and Naomi's torments. This time, he had no delusions that she would leave him a way out; she would find a way to make this fix permanent. She would hollow him out, make him her automaton soldier, and free will wouldn't even be a distant memory. He couldn't let that happen.

Instead he turned to Meg and with some hesitation, sat on the side of the bed. "I would have come for you, you know," he told her. "If I had known Crowley was keeping you, torturing you, I would have come."

She smiled, a bit crookedly, thanks to her split lip. "There's my knight in shining armor."

"I just assumed you were…off doing your own thing."

"You got blown to Purgatory, and then got turned into a puppet, it wasn't your fault."

"Still…" Castiel said, his brow creasing. "You were suffering and I didn't know."

Her hand found his again. "You saved me tonight. If you hadn't come back, I wouldn't have lasted the night."

His chest panged at that. "I almost didn't come back. I was trying to run."

She gave him a melancholy smile. "We're all trying to run from something, Castiel. But sometimes it's not a bad thing just to stop and think for a moment."

He shook his head. "I don't have the time. Sometimes I feel like I have been running for so long, I don't know how to stop."

"I get that," Meg said knowingly. She was quiet for a moment then said, "For the record, if I had known you were in Purgatory and hadn't been Crowley's favorite chew toy, I would have come for you too."

Castiel gave her a small, sincere smile. "Thank you. Though I'm not sure it would have made any difference in the long run."

Meg's sigh sounded a bit frustrated as she grabbed his shirt, yanking him forward. Castiel was completely shocked to feel the sudden press of Meg's lips against his. He barely stopped himself from falling on top of her, and pulled away after only a few seconds. Meg looked slightly disappointed but smiled.

"You're a lot cuter when you're shutting up, Clarence," she told him.

He just stared at her for a long moment before he reached out and cradled her head in his hands, leaning over to kiss her again. Meg sighed against his mouth, hands clutching at his shirt as he tangled his fingers in her hair and deepened the kiss. It was…freeing, and also, pleasant. It warmed his blood and made him wish to never let Meg go. All his cares seemed to disappear for a few intoxicating moments until he finally, reluctantly, pulled away, still cradling Meg's face between his hands as she looked up at him.

"Mm," she murmured, her eyes bright and glassy. "You're a damn good kisser for being such a prude, Clarence."

He smiled slightly, his fingers reluctantly sliding away from her skin. "I suppose I'll take that as a compliment." He looked around the room, touched the Tablet in his coat and then started to stand. "I—I should probably go. You need to rest and I have already stayed too long."

"You don't have to leave," Meg said quietly, catching the sleeve of his trench coat.

Castiel looked down at her hand and then back up at Meg, the longing, and selfish want in her eyes echoing his own and feeding it. "I really shouldn't stay. I…I am only putting all of you in danger."

"You can't leave me here with the Hardy Boys," Meg protested. "Besides, it's rude to rescue a girl and then dump her with your merry men right afterward. That's not how the stories go, you now. Usually, this would be the part where you profess your undying love, and then we ride off into the sunset together." She smiled.

Castiel sighed sadly. "This isn't a fairy tale. As much as I wish it were that simple."

"It can be," Meg told him softly. "Just for tonight."

Castiel felt an overwhelming surge of affection. Human emotions still confused him slightly but it was undeniable that there was something about Meg that brought it out in him. It certainly wasn't the same affection he felt for Sam and Dean. That was familial, fraternal, and easy to understand. He had been fighting beside them for years now, and they had taken him in when he had no other family.

But what he felt for Meg was more than that. So much more complicated to his angelic brain. It was friendship, yes, but also something more physical, a pleasant warmth in his belly when he thought of her, and when she looked at him in certain ways, sometimes his stomach flipped with nervousness—though not a necessarily unpleasant kind. Kissing her was something else entirely. All these things an angel should never feel, shouldn't even be able to, and yet he did. Naomi would say that made him broken, but secretly, to Castiel, he was glad he could still feel these things. Perhaps Naomi hadn't destroyed him after all.

He found he wanted to stay more than anything, wanted to feel Meg's lips against his again, see what her small figure would feel like wrapped safely in his arms so no outside harm would come to her again. None of this made sense, even less because he was an angel, albeit a fallen one, and she was a demon, and he couldn't, shouldn't, be…what he thought he was.

"Why are you so sweet on me, Clarence?" she had asked him before. And he still didn't have the answer to that. It might have been residual feelings he had because of the care she had given him when he was crazy, and needed a caretaker—something akin to 'imprinting' like baby birds. But in reality he knew his attraction to her had started before that, just as inexplicable then as it was now. The time they had spent together in the mental hospital and after had only made it stronger. He supposed there had always been a certain commonality between them. They had both fought for a cause that turned out not to be the cause they were fighting for and went off on their own, derided and cast out by their people. So in a way, Meg probably understood his situation better than anyone, even Sam and Dean, and there was a certain comfort in that.

So, against his better judgment, he decided to give in—just for tonight—and smiled. "Very well, for tonight."

Meg seemed pleased by this, and turned onto her side in a more comfortable position as he made to pull the chair from the desk over to the bed so he could watch over her. But before he could sit down, she reached out and grabbed his hand, tugging slightly.

"Don't be shy, Clarence. There's plenty of room in this bed for both of us."

Castiel didn't quite know what to reply to that. Perhaps it was best not to say anything. He hesitated only a moment before he gave in, kicking his shoes off and shrugging out of his coat and tie and placing them over the back of the chair. Meg watched with a small smirk, which made him feel a bit self-conscious. He retrieved the angel tablet from his discarded coat, not wanting to be parted from it, and slipped it beneath the pillow before he climbed gingerly into the other side of the bed.

He lay there for a minute stiffly, on his back, while Meg stayed on her side, facing away from him, until he heard her huff with some annoyance and look over her shoulder.

"What's the matter, Castiel? I thought you liked cuddling?" She held her hand out to him. "Come here."

That brought a small smile to his lips and he rolled over and placed his hand in her small one. She then took his arm and draped it over her waist. He tightened his arm around her ribs, careful not to put any pressure on her wound, and pulled her toward him until her body was curled up against his, the two fitting perfectly together. She was soft and warm, and his body instinctively folded around her in a somewhat protective gesture. The pleasantness of the action surprised him and he lowered his face into her hair, inhaling her scent and pressing his lips lightly to the nape of her neck. She sighed in contentment and relaxed against him.

"That's better," she said and he could hear the smile in her voice. "Hey, Castiel."

"Yes?" he inquired, voice slightly muffled against her shoulder.

"I never got your answer about the pizza."

He couldn't help but smile, huffing slightly. "I think we can call it a rain check," he said. "Now go to sleep, Meg."

She chuckled and wiggled slightly to find a more comfortable position in his arms. "Fine. Goodnight, Clarence."

"Goodnight," he whispered as he felt her settle more heavily against his chest, her breathing evening out. Castiel closed his eyes as well, and for a moment allowed himself to relax since this might be the last time he could manage that for a while.

But no matter what came later, right now, he felt, for the first time in a long while, at peace.

Several hours later in the early morning hours right before dawn, Castiel opened his eyes. He hadn't really slept so much as fallen into a peaceful meditative state as he lay on the bed with Meg in his arms, listening to her steady breathing. He glanced at a clock on the desk and saw the time, feeling a weight settle into his chest. He had to leave. He had already outstayed his welcome here and needed to be gone in case Naomi showed up. He just couldn't bare the risk of the Winchesters and Meg getting hurt because of him again.

He slowly extricated himself from Meg and slipped out of the bed, padding silently over to his shoes before he started to pull on the coat, returning the Angel Tablet to the inside pocket, safely against his ribs. He then glanced back at Meg, thinking of her potential anger when she would wake to find him missing.

He turned back to the desk, seeing a pad of paper and pencils. He was going to just write a note, but then decided against it, and instead drew a rose, and as an afterthought, a bee buzzing around it, knowing she would understand. He placed it on the table beside the bed, and looked one last time at Meg, this time gazing past her human skin to her true form.

As always, she was made of thorns and roses, and there was something tragically beautiful about that, Castiel decided. Right now, she looked cracked in places, Crowley's tortures and her injuries weighing heavily on her as Sam's burden of the Trials weighed on him, but there was something else in Meg. He could see a perfect rose right over her heart, that glowed slightly in a certain hope that he could tell she hadn't let go of no matter what she had been through. He thought that was the most beautiful thing of all about her.

He sighed, and gently tucked the blanket around her shoulders before he turned and left the room as quietly as possible.

He almost made it out of the bunker but a light clatter came from the kitchen, startled him, causing him to draw his angel blade and go investigate. However, it was not his brethren or another threat that had somehow found its way into the bunker but Dean Winchester up early making coffee.

"Cas? What's up, man?" Dean asked as he came out of the kitchen in a robe and slippers. Castiel couldn't help but notice how, even after everything, Dean looked comfortable here. He looked like he was at home, was Castiel's first impression of the picture. He certainly hadn't seen the elder Winchester sleep in anything but his day clothes and sometimes even his boots for months, years really, especially not since they had gotten back from Purgatory when the need to run was always prevalent. This was a new look on Dean. And though, like Sam and Meg, he bore a burden on his soul, the worry for his brother was a weight that was fraying him at the edges like tired rope, he still managed to look like he had found some sanctuary here and that brought some small amount of happiness and perhaps even a little longing, from Castiel. He wished he could feel that comfortable belonging anywhere.

"How's Meg?" the elder Winchester asked, breaking him from his musing.

"She is resting."

"What are you doing up?"

Castiel started to form some lie, but there was really no point, after all. "I'm…heading out," he said.

Dean frowned. "Cas, you go out there, Naomi will probably jump you before dawn. And then she'd have you and the tablet. Stay here, man. I promise it's safe."

Castiel hesitated, but he couldn't allow himself to give in, could he? There was just too much risk. "Dean, I can't stay. I would only be putting all of you in danger."

"But what about you, dude? Don't you get that going out there would only result in putting yourself in danger?"

Castiel shook his head. "Dean…"

"Cas," Dean cut in firmly. "Stay."

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Castiel began to realize that if Dean Winchester could feel, and look, like he was home, safe within these walls, then why couldn't Castiel? But still, the memories of hitting Dean with punishing blows, the way he cringed away from the touch he had sought to heal him with…

"I hurt you, Dean, I almost killed you. How can you stand to have me under the same roof?" He nearly pleaded for an explanation, guilt pounding in his chest.

Dean pursed his lips and stepped forward, reaching out with no hesitation to grip Castiel's shoulder. "Cas, that wasn't you, okay? Look, I know I was pissed to find out what had been going on, but really, it was because I wish you got that you can always come to me and Sam for help. You don't have to suffer alone." He gave an impatient gesture. "And yeah, I know we haven't always been the most understanding, but when it comes down to it, we need to stick together; now more than anything. And I…I could use the help." He swallowed hard, casting his eyes somewhere past Castiel's shoulder toward the dormitory wing. "Sammy, he's…he's not doing too well, even though he's trying damn hard to prove otherwise, and if he's really as bad off as you said…all I'm saying is that if he's gonna be down the for count, I could use another set of hands. We both could."

Castiel saw the truth in this statement. Even he didn't know how bad Sam was going to get in the weeks to come, but he knew Dean was right about this. He certainly didn't want Dean off fighting evil without someone to watch his back if Sam did end up laid up from this.

"Besides," Dean said, and a small, teasing smile turned up his lips. "You and Meg seemed to have a date—something with pizza?" Castiel blushed and glared at Dean who just grinned. "In any case, she wouldn't be happy if you just left her here with us. So come on, Cas. Stay—at least for a while. We'll figure something out together, okay?"

Castiel finally took a deep breath and sagged slightly in defeat, but also some relief. "Okay, I'll stay."

Dean looked relieved as well, and he smiled again. "I was just making some coffee, want some?"

Castiel watched the burbling pot, having become rather fond of the drink, even if he didn't feel its effects. But he decided he would decline today. "Thank you, but I'll pass. I should probably..." he nodded vaguely toward the dormitory wing.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Dean said as he grabbed a cup for himself. "Um, anyway, man, I'm glad you're staying."

Castiel inhaled deeply. "So am I." He turned to leave but Dean called after him.

"Oh, and uh…don't forget to put a sock on the door."

"Why would I put a sock on the door?" he asked in confusion.

"You know," Dean rolled his eyes. "So we know not to disturb you two…"

Understanding dawned and Castiel gave him a withering glance. "Dean…"

The elder Winchester held his hands up but there was a smirk on his face. "Alright, alright. But seriously man, I won't judge…"

Castiel shook his head and headed back to Meg's room. He thought he would slip inside undetected, but she was awake when he got in there, holding the sketch he had left her. She looked up with some surprise and maybe a little accusation.

"What? Decided not to skip out on me after all?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, Meg. I shouldn't have. But don't worry, I've decided to stay."

A relieved smile spread across her face and Castiel decided that no matter what, he had made the right decision. Besides, even if he ran, it was still possible for Naomi to find the people he cared about and use them to bring him in. This way, at least he would be able to protect them.

"In that case, get back over here," Meg told him.

Soon they were tucked up together in the bed once again, Meg dozing against Castiel's chest as she healed from her wounds. He began to think about what he was going to do now, and what exactly was the best course to take with protecting the Angel Tablet, but after a few moments, he decided that could all wait until later. Right now, he just decided to take a moment and rest, so he closed his eyes and just held Meg. For the moment, he didn't need to worry about anything else.

I've got a couple more little one-shots coming to tide you over before my next multi-chapter fic, so keep an eye out for those :)