A/N Apology:
I wrote this story last year and left it unfinished. This was because I had written myself into a corner and had no idea where to go with it.
My sincere apologies to the readers who were waiting for the ending.
I have rewritten/ improved the entire thing and added the final chapter.
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Set During Season 6.
Warning: The implied events of "Caged Heat" Are burned into my minds eye. Disturbing shit ahead. Set after Sam is re- souled.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter one:
"Do you have any idea what it's like to be ridden for months by pure evil... While your family has no idea what happened to you?"
Meg Masters.
For the past two weeks, the weather had been threatening to turn vicious. Minnesota in the winter is no joke at the best of times, but this winter it felt to the residents of Fallen Tree, like a second Ice age had begun.
Businesses closed because employees couldn't get out of their driveways. The roads were so icy even chains didn't do much to give traction. Now a blizzard beat down on shuttered windows, as the town hibernated. So did the evil that happened to be lurking there, waiting at the Sanctuary Motel, which nestled among the pines out by the old campsite on the edge of town.
It was one of the few places still open, that was only because the owner, Mr. Andrew Prior, lived on the premises. He'd decided to offer emergency accommodation to some stranded travellers who would otherwise have frozen to death in their cars.
He was also currently dying, choking on his own blood behind the check-in counter, at the feet of a skinny brunette. Who, in another life, had been named Grace, but was now known by the name Meg.
Grace didn't know the creature's right name. But "Meg." Was what Dean Winchester had spat at her the first time she'd seen him. In a motel a lot like this one, over two years ago now.
"Well well." The demon contorted her face into a smirk. As she flicked through the check in book. "Looks like The 'Allman' brothers are staying in room 486. Time for a visit I think. "
Grace watched, helplessly, through her own eyes, which would have been streaming tears for old Mr Prior, if her body were allowed it's natural function. She had stopped trying to fight months ago.
The creature seemed to have an inordinate amount of interest in the Winchesters. She could feel the demon's hatred for them seeping out of her very pores.
Grace had gleaned some information about the two men from Meg's rage filled ranting, and was rooting for them, but she had no illusions. If by some chance they got the jump on the demon she still wouldn't stand a chance. It had told her what had happened to poor little Meg Masters.
"They threw her aside like a used rubber Gracie." The thing taunted. "No, sweetie. They won't save you. They don't care about the meat suits any more. Trust me."
Grace knew, on some level, that if the demon left her body now, she would die anyway. She was injured in ways that couldn't be mended. Meg was careless with her meat, and creative in her hobbies.
Why did they stop caring? She asked, barely interested, but happy for any kind of attention, validation that she still existed, if only in some small corner of her own mind.
The Demon Paused:
" 'Cause that's what happens when you're the bitch for too long dear, you only care about being top dog. I'm surprised you don't know that by now."
She sneered almost cringed, but still clung to the words. She was spoken to, she was there, she was still alive. Somehow.
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"Holy Crap!"
Dean drew the curtains. Trying to shut out the cold. "You gonna turn up that heat or what Sammy?"
"It's all the way up dude!" Sam replied from the floor, where he sat with his back to the radiator, wrapped in a blanket. "It'll be all we can do to survive the night without hypothermia at this rate."
Dean shivered. "Well I'll tell you one thing, none of that shared body heat stuff. I'd rather die."
Sam snorted. "We have blankets and layers, we won't have to resort to that."
"You keep telling yourself that." Dean huffed, his breath visible against the window. "Jesus its a white out! This is officially the last time I ever get this close to Canada. I swea..."
Then the lights flickered...
The two men suddenly froze. Eyes wide, breath shaking. Dean reached for his gun and Sam quickly rose and moved toward the door.
"Wait!" Mouthed Dean, stepping forward. There was the sound of crunching footsteps on the snow outside, getting closer. Dean swallowed down bile. There couldn't possibly be anyone out there, anyone human anyway. The steps stopped outside their door and the lightbulb flickered again then went out. leaving them in the dark.
Sam held his breath. Eyes searching the darkness. focused on the the door. No sounds now but the wind. Dean pulled out his lighter and the small flame gave enough light to see by. The lock clicked and the door swung wide.
A familiar figure stood, half silhouetted in the doorway, as the icy wind tore through the room. A flurry of snow following her as she stepped inside.
" Meg!" Sam cried out, unable to think for a moment, before he went for the knife at his belt. His hand froze in mid air. Dean's gun dropped from his fingers and he found himself in the same position. standing stock still, totally paralyzed.
"Hello boys!"
She smiled as she walked into the room. Closing the door and clicking her fingers, the desk lamp came on. "It's been a while. I see you're both still prepared for anything" She snorted. "This was so sickeningly easy." She sat on one of the beds. "It's almost not fun anymore." She mused as she pulled the hem of her light summer dress demurely and brushed away some imaginary lint.
Dean tried unsuccessfully to move his tongue, he so desperately wanted to tell her where to stick it. Bitch whore from hell! Gonna rip your lungs out through your nose!
She regarded them with reptilian calm for a moment. Before continuing. "You know." She said "I'm almost a little choked up to say good-bye. It been quite a... Ride we've had together." She focused on Sam with a predatory glare so intense she was sure he would have looked away if he'd been able to move. "You were great Sammy. Best I've had in a while, actually put up a fight. Unlike the weak, pathetic. scum I've had since."
She got up and approached him, smiling as his breath quickened. She stood flush against him and felt his soul cringing inside him. She breathed in his ear. "You want to go another round? We could have so much fun... I know you missed me."
Sam was shaking inwardly with a combination of rage, cold, and fear. No that was not going to happen. Not to him, not ever again. He felt her sulphurous breath against his ear again. As she stood on her toes and whispered:
"On second thoughts I don't think I want Lucifer's sloppy seconds." She grinned against his ear. " What about your brother? He's never been possessed before has he? What say I pop his cherry?"
NO!
Whether it was some remnant of his powers, or an aftereffect of shaking off Lucifer he didn't know. But He moved his hand then, by the pure strength of will. He grabbed a handful of her hair. With an animalistic growl he twisted her around so her back was against him, his arm around her throat.
It was just a split second but it was all Dean needed. He grabbed the nearest thing he could find, his flask, and splashed the contents over her head, she screamed as smoke rose from her skin. Sam had already started chanting an exorcism.
Through her agony, Grace registered the demon writhing inside her, howling in fury. It didn't want to give him the satisfaction. But he had his way, and Meg vacated her body with the force of a hurricane.
No! She tried to scream at it. Don't leave me like this! Kill me first!
But the Demon was gone, and she stood for a second on boneless legs, Her body registered intense pain, then shock, then collapsed to the ground.
Dean felt a second of overwhelming relief. The bitch was back in hell, for the moment at least. He stared at his brother. Impressed.
"Holy Hell Sammy that was quite a move!" He gasped."How did you do that?"
Sam was preoccupied with the body of Meg's vessel, which went down like a lead weight.
Sam listened for breathing. "She's still alive!" He shouted.
"Sh... What?" Dean cried, panicked. "She can't be! Meg was riding her for months!"
"Call 911!" Sam demanded, lifting the girl onto the bed. He wasn't going to see her die, not like the last one.
Dean took a look at his cell and growled, throwing it aside he tried the land line. "The freaking phones are out!"
"Then... Do something Dean! We have to get her to a hospital... Look!" He pointed at the pool of blood on the floor.
Dean paled. Meg hadn't been bleeding. But demons could control that kind of thing while they were inside someone. He froze at the sudden memory of Christian standing over Meg's naked body with that knife... He remembered, in that moment, almost pitying Meg. He hadn't allowed himself to think of the vessel.
"Cas!" He called looking up at the ceiling "Cas get down here now! Code red!"
There was no reply.
" Oh... Crap!" Dean pushed Sam aside roughly. "Go Get towels!" He ordered.
To Sam's surprise he found himself doing as he was told, Running to the bathroom, finding only a couple of clean hand towels and throwing them to Dean. When he opened the door, however, he was met with the full force of the blizzard, head on.
"Be careful!" He heard His brother yell as a sudden blast of freezing wind nearly pulled the door off its hinges and he struggled to slam it shut again. "Shit!" He cried into the swirling snow.
He couldn't see six inches in front of his own face let alone where the car was parked. A thought occurred to him suddenly. The lobby was only a few doors down. There would be a first aid kit there, there had to be one for insurance purposes!
"Thank you law school!" He breathed as he felt his way along the wall, praying Mr Prior was the type to follow regulations. He blindly shuffled along the concrete, body pressed to the wall as the wind cut right through him. He finally reached the glass door.
Mr Prior was beyond the help of a first aid kit when Sam found him. He stopped for a moment , staring at the body.
"Son of a bitch!"
He quickly shook off his horror and began to search behind the counter.
He got back to find Dean in a disturbing position. The girl was in his lap and he was pressing one blood soaked towel against her stomach and another between her legs. Dean himself was pale as a sheet with his jaw set and eyes hard. The attitude he adopted when he had an unpleasant job to do but was damn well going to do it.
Sam stumbled into the room and slammed the door, teeth chattering. He shook the snow out of his hair.
"You get it?" Dean asked. "The bitch really did a number on this chick. I dunno what to do here Sammy!"
Sam nodded "Got one in the lobby. The owner's dead by the way." He emptied the contents of the first aid kit onto the bed. Despite the obvious, he found himself asking. "Dean? I need a run down, what's bleeding?"
"What does it look like!" Dean snapped. "God knows what Meg got up to in her body! Sick bitch." No reason to mention Christian. Sam didn't need to remember that. It could stay behind the wall where it belonged.
Sam's eyes widened as though he was just now seeing what was in front of him. "Oh... Oh God!' He stuttered... "Wh... Dean what do we do? I can't... Stitch...I mean I'm not a surgeon dude!"
"Yeah." Dean took a deep breath. "Yeah, ok Sammy, look the pipes are frozen but ... Hell there must be mountains of snow outside. If I keep the pressure on and we use an Ice pack that'll slow the bleeding right down. We can at least stitch her other injuries yeah?"
Sam was staring at the bloody towels, eyes like saucers.
"Ok Sam?" Dean repeated. Clutching the girl's limp body tight as the blood made her slippery.
"O... Ok!' He snapped to attention and grabbed the ice bucket. "There's plenty of snow just outside!" He took a deep breath before opening the door and facing the storm again.
"Don't wake up sweetheart." Dean whispered. Rocking the girl's body slightly. "Don't wake up."
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Two hours later they'd been able to catalogue the damage, and the bleeding had almost stopped. They'd done their best on the internal injuries with cotton, gauze and ice. She had about 100 stitches in total, bruised ribs, a dislocated shoulder and possibly a broken leg from god knows when. Her body temperature was way too low, either from shock or hypothermia, probably both. Whether she was in a coma or not was anyone's guess.
Still, thought Dean, as he dressed a wound on her arm, examining her deathly pale face. not bad for someone who had one of the nastiest demons in creation inside them for over two years. He wondered if Meg had kept her alive for a purpose of if the demon just liked playing with her. Like she'd played with Sam all those years ago.
He wondered if she'd make it until morning.
Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking beat to hell. Jogging his knee up and down like a tweaker.
"I fucking hate Demons." He rasped quietly. Staring at his bloody hands.
"Me too Sammy." Dean replied quietly. " You wanna wash up first? " He asked. "I'll finish up."
Sam didn't look up at him, just nodded and made for the bathroom, pausing at the door.
"Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"There weren't any painkillers in the kit."
Deans heart sank at the realisation.
"If she wakes up..."
If. Sam didn't need to say anything else.
"Cas will turn up before then Sammy." Said Dean as he wrapped the girl in a clean sheet and layered blankets over her. His expression blank. "Go clean yourself up dude. You're covered in blood."
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Sam wished the pipes weren't frozen. He'd heated snow in the coffee machine. But there wasn't enough water in the bathroom sink to get properly clean. He blinked his eyes as the pink water dripped off his hair.
He though about all the times he'd been covered in blood. His own, Dean's, Dad's, various monster's. He shuddered at the memory of Ruby's blood running down his chin.
This was worse.
"You were great Sammy. Best one I've had in a while..."
Meg's whisper echoed in his head. He scrubbed at his fingernails.
"... Actually put up a fight. Unlike the weak, pathetic. scum I've had since."
He shuddered again. Letting the water out. It swirled around the plug hole like a scene from a Hitchcock movie.
If that girl woke up... God knows what they'd do.
He remembered how confused he'd been when he'd woken up after Meg. Feeling like he'd gone ten rounds with Tyson. How the memories came back in fits and starts. How sick they'd made him feel. He had kept them to himself mostly. Too ashamed to say anything to Dean, Dean had enough on his plate at the time anyway, didn't need that crap too.
That had only been a week. He tried to imagine a year and found that he couldn't.
Then of course anything Meg had done, paled into insignificance next to the presence of Lucifer, owning his body and mind. That feeling of utter powerlessness in the face of malice so great it could end the world.
"On second thoughts I don't think I want Lucifer's sloppy seconds."
He squeezed his eyes shut. One hell of an analogy there Meg.
There was still a lot of damage that could be done by small, petty beings. With cruel, vindictive souls.
The wind howled outside. Slamming against the window. It was white on the outside. A thick layer of frost covered the inside too. The storm was picking up, they'd be snowed in soon.
Dean sat on the other bed. Staring at the girl. She was so pale, and her breathing so shallow that he was tempted to check her pulse. He wondered if she'd see the morning, and if she did? Would she thank them for saving her, or ask him to put a bullet in her head?
That had been his instinct. When he'd held her hemorrhaging body on the bed. To put her out of her misery while Sam was out of the room.
Then he'd remembered a voice, pained and distant. Meg Master's voice.
"You're supposed to help people Dean! Why didn't you help me?"
He bowed his head.
"Cas?" He whispered. 'Where are you dude?"