Author's Note: Hi! Just started trying to write again. This fic is probably trash, but I'm just throwing it out here anyway! Hope you enjoy!
Something woke Castiel in the middle of the night. A low hum that seemed to come from beneath the floorboards of the bunker. He sat up in bed, disoriented. It was one of those strange, quiet nights where he stayed in Dean's room long after they had done whatever it is they sometimes did when they were sure Sam wouldn't overhear them. The hunter was still beside him, undisturbed by whatever had woken Castiel.
This was unusual, but Castiel paid it no mind. Dean was tired, no doubt. He slid out of bed and stepped out of the room, peeking out into the corridor. He could make out the sound of footsteps in the main chamber. He furrowed his brows. If someone had come to kill them, they would already know. This was different. It felt different.
Struggling to make out now-unfamiliar shapes of furniture in the dark, Castiel padded down the staircase to the floor below. Once there, he reached for the light, squinting as the room came into view. His eyes searched the floor, keen to discover the source of the noise.
They fell upon a woman's figure. Short, with wild hair and sharp eyes, dressed in dark colors and her leather jacket. Castiel shook his head in disbelief.
"Meg?"
She was wearing her most recent vessel. Gone were the bloody wounds and the bleached hair she had had the night he last saw her. She looked as lovely as ever, but there was no way her being here could be a good thing. Maybe if she had been human, but she was pure demon. And demons stayed dead.
"You-"
"Relax, Clarence," she said, "it's a dream. Though I guess you wouldn't know much about that."
She crossed the floor to stand in front of him, clicking her tongue as she went.
"Human, now," she said, "see what you get yourself into when I'm not around to save your ass?"
Normally, Castiel would have taken this as a blow, but he was in too much shock to react. He had had dreams before, but never like this. She looked so real. Perhaps it wasn't the ordinary type of dream.
"Why are you here, Meg?"
She closed her lips and smiled.
"Well, geez, it's been months since we've talked," she said, nodding back and forth as though it was perfectly normal to be visiting from beyond the grave, "is there some rule that I can't pay my guardian angel a little visit?"
Castiel stiffened slightly, but shook his head.
"No, I suppose not."
He cleared his throat, and resolved to start again.
"It's, um, it's good to see you."
She smirked.
"I see you're slow, as ever," she remarked, passing him by and leaning against the table, "some things never change. Of course, I've picked up some new developments."
Castiel's eyes were fixed on hers. He was barely listening. She raised her arched eyebrows.
"You wanna tell me about the new digs, or what?"
"What?" asked Castiel, stumbling before pulling himself together again, "oh, yes. I… have been stripped of my grace, through what is entirely the fault of my own."
She nodded.
"How long has it been?"
There was something in her voice that seemed strange. If he didn't know any better, he'd say it was sympathy.
"Too long."
"I'd bet."
There was a moment of silence.
"You like it?"
Castiel faltered. He squinted.
"Do I like it?" he repeated.
"Yeah," said Meg, shrugging.
"Do I like being at the mercy of humans and without any of my inherent powers? Who would enjoy that?"
Meg shrugged again.
"I dunno," she said, "some parts don't completely suck."
He was confused.
"What?"
She shot him a look of mild exasperation.
"I was human once, too, you know," she said, a slight edge in her voice.
Castiel didn't know what to say to that.
"Well… what - what parts did you enjoy?"
Meg smiled.
"Something tell me you already know," she said, a strange smile playing on her lips, before turning to run her fingers along the edge of the table.
"What?"
She turned back at him and looked him in the eyes.
"Making noises with the ken doll, now? I thought I smelt sexual tension."
Castiel's cheeks reddened. Embarrassment was a queer thing, and he did not like it. It didn't suit him. Even if this was a dream, he didn't like Meg saying this out loud.
"Is that what you two were getting up to all that time we spend apart? That's why you never got to tell me goodbye, yeah?"
She said this like it was funny, but something told Castiel that she did not find it so. He was affronted.
"It wasn't like that," he said, "I was… in a bad place, Meg. I almost killed Dean; it didn't have anything to do with you. I was-"
Meg raised her small hands to dismiss this.
"I was only kidding, Cas. I know we weren't married. I get it. First time was a spur-of-the-moment kinda deal, the second time, you were out of your mind. I'm fine, really, Clarence."
"I wasn't out of my mind," he said gruffly, "Meg, I-"
Their eyes had locked. He was at a loss for what to say. She looked - was it possible - sad. Bitter, maybe. Either way, he softened.
"You," he said stiffly, "are very important to me. It just… it was never the right time. Things weren't - I wasn't-"
She snorted softly. He took a step closer.
"I'm not good at these things," he sighed, "but I wish that they were different. And I am... sorry."
Meg's eyes went dark. Suddenly, it seemed as though she was years older. Her hair looked thinner and her mouth fell. Castiel's heart ached looking at her. He came closer and touched her cheek. Her eyelids fell shut and she put her hands on his shoulders as he kissed her. It was long and soft. When he pulled away, she laughed.
"That's all I wanted to hear."