It was like a nasty scab that was always peeling over from infection.

That was what it was to him.

Dean noticed that Cas and Meg had started having an odd…attraction with one another. It wasn't anything new; Cas had always sort of had a weird crush on the demon, and now it was a bit bothersome that they were spending almost all of their time with one another.

Benny said that they were "just gettin' friendly", and that Dean shouldn't worry about the two of them together.

But it still bothered him, despite Benny's assurance and Castiel's constant loyalty.

It was weird and he didn't like it one bit. Mostly, only Sam was still in a constant relationship, and when Lisa (who, bless her soul, remembered everything just in time for apocalypse part duex) was able to come by, Dean of course kept her close.

But there was something evil about the two of them together, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

—

"Shit Cas let me go!"

She hated him like this, where he got all drained from a good fuck and wanted to nest with her. Meg still hated it, and he did it almost any time he could to, as she assumed, make her as uncomfortable as possible.

Castiel of course was content holding his squirming demon as they lay on cut sheets (a slight upgrade from his coat, which they now used as a blanket, Cas humming a soft song in his native tongue and forcing her to listen.

"There are times I just regret ever doing this," Meg huffed as he pulled her closer to him, ignoring the angry screams of Dean that usually accompany the morning, and just simply being the only two in the world.

"CAS!" Dean's voice was louder now, and Meg knew Cas would at some point sucume to their fearless leader's calls.

Castiel's brow furrowed, a thing he did lately when he was simply sending Dean a telepathic message instead of bothering to get up.

"The Pack spotted a horde, one of Crowley's."

"Fun," Meg muttered, rolling the clingy angel off her. "I've been needing to kick some ass for a while. You've gotten lazy, too."

"I'm not lazy," Castiel protested with a defiant grunt. "I'm privileged."

"Yeah, get that privileged ass out of bed. We got a hunt."

—

Dean swore up and down that Cas had begs under his eyes. Well, the angel's always had bags, but these were heavier. Sleep heavier.

The angel was standing firm by his best friend, Meg and Benny not far behind with Sam and the werewolves 'round the back.

The demons were held out in an empty mansion, a bit of high digs for demons, and they knew they were waiting for the rag-tag rebels.

Dean took the head, shot gun at the ready and eyes on the target. Meg had her own sword that Castiel had made her, and Benny had his bare hands, which surprisingly came in handy when they needed him to go beast-mode.

Anxiously, Dean and his soldiers gathered around the doorway.

And then there was the werewolf howl.

And in they went.

Demons were screaming, Werewolves were snarling, and humans were killing.

Damn it felt good.

Meg smirked hard as she shoved the sword deep into the Demon's head, watching it flash out as Benny took out another group, Castiel and Dean fighting back to back while Sam hung back with the wolves.

It was so fast and the demons were so ambushed that she was surprised the floor cleared out as quick as it did.

And then it all faded to black when Dean shouted her name.

The demon was quick, quicker than she and before she knew it there was the flash of silver and the pain of a stab.

She expected it to be over like that, but when she shut her eyes and saw the flash of light under her lids, she knew what happened.

Castiel was grabbing the sword with his right bare hand, the other planted firmly on the demon's head to smite it.

The carnage about ended there, the last of the demons either flashing or smoking out, Castiel finally let out a scream as he tossed down the sword, recoiling at the deep cuts in his hands.

"Shit!"

"Cas?" Dean called out as he rushed to his friend, snatching Cas's hand. "Damn it! What the fuck were you thinking?"

"They were going to kill her, Dean," Castiel growled. "You said it yourself. We need everyone we got."

Dean didn't drag it on, only sighed. "Can you heal it?"

"Not wounds from that sword."

"I got it," meg muttered as she shoved Dean out of the way, grabbing Cas's hand from the Man of Letters and dug around in her small shoulder bag, pulling out a bottle of whisky.

"Dean," Sam huffed as he ran to his brother. "The pack's wantin' to head home. They say they can't smell anything here."

"Brother, we need to get back too," Benny mumbled. "The raid was good, but there's nothin' here."

"Yeah."

"Your precious angel will be fine, Dean," the demon said as she dumped the alcohol on Cas's hand. "We'll be back when we're done."

The human shot them a final glance before leaving.

"Ow."

"Don't be a fucking baby," she hissed as she dumped the rest of the bottle on him.

"Was the alcohol necessary?"

"Just because you're an angel doesn't men you can't get infected," she said as she pulled bandages from her bag, softly, yet tightly wrapping them around his hand.

"Oh."

"Got the Deja-vu, Cas?"

He had to admit, it made his hand feel a lot better than being shreds.

"I suppose I do."

—

They didn't even knock on the door, never even told Dean they came back.

They just teleported to that attic, their space, Castiel ripping off her shirt and tearing at her lips.

Meg was humming into him, feeling the angel fumble around her and touch her body, Cas had learned a lot in a few weeks and was apparently eager to show her, and he hungrily took him in.

Castiel still had the bandage on his hand, she didn't know if it was symbolic or if he still wasn't able to heal it. It made his movements a bit rougher and she was surprised to see him maneuver around it.

"Such…memories," he breathed as the kissed, remembering the pizza man, her return from hell, her rescue from Crolwey…

They were all good, he decided. They all had her in them and they made him smile.

Meg wasn't one for remissnessing, instead she was clawing and craving him, and he was melting into her.

The whole thing was like a power struggle and when they finally both lost out, Castiel was flat on his back with Meg the same beside him, the both of them breathing heavy and both of them recoiling from the surge.

"God damn it."

He's afraid he's done something wrong (again), but when he sees her try and catch her breath, one hand on her breast to calm her.

"How the fuck…do you do that?"

Castiel didn't answer, instead he looked down at his hand.

He's still unable to heal it, still unable to preserve it.

"What are you doing?"

"It should have healed."

"Well, duh, dumbass, you just pretty much shot all you got in that fucking orgasm."

He was ignoring her, unwrapping his hand and staring at it.

It was still bleeding slightly, but the wound was completely red.

No grace sneaking out, no angelic presence leaking out from his skin.

"What?"

He looked at her with an odd…sullen look.

"Angel's don't bleed without grace."

He was upset by this. She didn't know why or how…it was just a nasty cut. Wasn't it good that there wasn't any of that angel stuff inside?

"You're gonna get it infected," she muttered, wrapping his hand back. "I'm not gonna fuck an infested hobo."

He didn't laugh at her words, and she didn't expect him to.

—

It was the first time she actually let him hold her. Something was bothering him about that wound and she frankly didn't want to listen to him complain.

It was also the first night he didn't sleep since they were together. He was awake the entire night, sometimes looking at his right hand and other times he just pressed into her.

Meg of course just stayed quiet until dawn came, and when Dean sounded the morning bell.