Part of the Meg Lives series.
Dreamwidth community 15 Kisses Aquarius table, prompt #13-Weakness.
Dreamwidth community 15 Woes Aquarius table, prompt #9-Unkempt.
Meg unlocked and shoved open the door to the motel room. She stepped aside and allowed the Winchesters to help Castiel into the room. The brothers led the angel to the nearest chair and sat him down.
"Do—" Sam started.
"We're fine. Go," Meg ordered, not taking her eyes off Cas.
They left the room, quietly shutting the door behind them.
Meg crossed her arms and stared at the being before her. Castiel slumped in the chair, his lead lowered. His trench coat and suit were covered in spots of demon blood, and there were more than a few strips torn from his coat. His hair had more demon blood in it, and so did his face.
"Well?" she asked, uneasy. "Aren't you going to clean up?"
"What?" he replied, sounding distracted and exhausted. If she didn't know better, she would have thought he'd been falling asleep.
She waved her hands. "Do your angel thing and get all sparkling clean?"
He looked down at himself and frowned. "Right. I...cannot."
The uneasy feeling grew. "What? Why not?"
"The battle, Meg. It...drained my grace. I..." He paused and looked at her. "I have very little left."
He'd explained to her that he was not fully cut-off from Heaven, but was enough that he had to use his energy wisely. Too much at one time was bad, and if it happened, he would need time to recharge.
o.O.o
It was a trap.
Meg knew it was a trap. Crowley would knew that Meg knew it was a trap.
The damn usurper would also know they couldn't resist it.
Meg and Castiel appeared across the alley from the abandoned warehouse where the Winchesters were being held. She spotted a handful of demons outside, standing guard.
"There should be more guards. And there is no warding on the building," Castiel said, narrowing his eyes.
"That's because this is for show. He wants us in there," Meg said.
"Meg, you do not have to do this. I can—"
"We've been over this. I'm going." Another chance to stab Crowley in the face was something she couldn't pass up.
"I know what he did to you."
"You don't know half of what he did to me," she replied, her voice low. To stop any further argument, she teleported to the warehouse.
It was a trap, but a far bigger one than either of them had expected.
They got as far as freeing the Winchesters before it was sprung. Instead of a few demons, or ever a handful of demons, Crowley unleashed...well, Meg lost count.
She fought madly, her knife and angel blade barely finishing stabbing through one before she was killing another. She saw Castiel was smiting the demons at first before changing to his angel blade and a knife. The Winchesters too, had their blades and the demon killing knife out.
But it wasn't enough. One demon went down only to be replaced by another, and another. Crowley wasn't playing, wasn't teasing. The self-proclaimed King of Hell was determined that none of them—mainly her—were getting out alive.
"Meg! Get the Winchesters and go," Castiel yelled.
What was he—
"Now!" the angel ordered, and she saw his eyes glowing and the shadow of magnificent wings were projected.
Meg was able to reach the brothers. Castiel's display made enough of a distraction...a half a second, really...for her to teleport them out.
"Ugh! Never do that again," Dean said, leaning over and gagging. "That's worse than angel travel."
"Fine, I'll leave you to the demons next time," Meg replied.
They were a block from the warehouse next to the Impala.
"Thank you, Meg, but—" Sam began.
"He told me to, which means he's about to do something really stupid," Meg told them. "I'm going back."
Before she could move, a brilliant white light blasted through the windows, shattering what glass remained. She turned and ducked. The light burned like nothing she had ever felt. After a few moments, she stood.
She knew what that was, and why he'd had her take the Winchesters out.
He'd smote every demon in that building in one powerful blast.
o.O.o
"If you hadn't been showing off..." Meg said.
"You mean saving our lives," he countered.
"Whatever. You can't stay like that. Come on." She dug into her beg for her toiletries and pulled him into the bathroom.
Handing him a washcloth and her bottle of soap, she stood by as he hesitantly washed his hands and face. It was obvious that he had no real idea what he was doing. He eventually managed to get the filth off, though.
"Is this acceptable?" he asked, his tone slightly testy. "I would like to go and rest to replenish my grace now."
Meg studied him. That uneasy feeling was still there; had been since she had joined him outside the warehouse after the mass smite. She couldn't explain it, but something was gnawing at her, telling her that something wasn't right.
She took a step closer and studied him. His exhaustion was evident. She breathed in, and instead of his angel scent, she got the reek of demon covered angel scent. It caused that uneasy feeling to flare up and take over.
"No," she said, and pushed off his trench coat. He froze for a moment, but when she tugged on his suit jacket, he seemed to get the idea. As he began to remove the rest of his clothing, she turned on the shower, making the water as hot as it could get.
"Is this really necessary?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied, though she really wasn't sure why. She could just leave him alone. He was very fastidious about his appearance, and took great pride in his ability to grace away any dirt. As soon as he was able, he would clean up.
That uneasiness flared again.
Without a word, she pushed him into the shower. He shook his head as the water covered him and glowered at her.
"You smell wrong," she said by way of explanation. It sounded ridiculous, but it was the truth.
Narrowing his eyes, he tilted his head. He seemed to be studying her and after a moment, he seemed to decide something and took the washcloth and soap. His efforts at showering were just about as good as earlier, so she shrugged off her own clothes and stepped in behind him. Grabbing her shampoo, she poured a good amount into his hair and scrubbed. He seemed unsure at first, but leaned his head into her hands.
"Why is this familiar?" he asked quietly.
"No idea," Meg lied, pushing on the back of his head to let him know to rinse. He did and she poured more shampoo in, lathering it up again to make sure she got all the filth.
Once he had rinsed, she took the washcloth from him and cleaned his back. He'd hidden a few wounds from her. Two long, deep slices marred his skin. She could see sparks of light deep inside as he tried and failed to heal his vessel.
She paused, the uneasy feeling causing an ache in her chest. He turned and took the cloth from her.
"Meg?" he asked quietly.
She saw that he'd managed to clean his chest. "You're fine now."
Without a word, she started to step out of the shower. A gently hand on her arm stopped her. He carefully pulled her back in, and wiped her face and neck clean with another washcloth. Stunned, she didn't move when he poured some shampoo—a little too much—into her hair and switched places with her so that he could wash it. After rinsing, he scrubbed her back.
"Finished?" she asked.
"Yes. Now you are clean too," he said. She glanced at him and he had a proud look on his face.
She couldn't help but laugh. "Grab a towel and go dry off."
He did as she said, and when he went into the other room, she finished her shower and shut off the water. Leaning against the wall, she tried to sort out what the hell was wrong with her. She couldn't figure it out.
Pulling on underwear and a t-shirt, she went into the main room. Cas had climbed into one of the beds and the only visible part of him was his hair sticking out from under the blankets. She eyed the second bed, but climbed in next to him instead. He barely stirred except to wrap one arm around her once she had settled. She took a deep breath and was rewarded with pure angel scent. Ozone and rain. No offending hint of demon blood.
Safety.
It eased the ache in her chest and calmed the uneasy feeling.
Her eyes widened and it all clicked.
Smiting didn't cause a demon to bleed. If he had demon blood on him, that meant he'd had to resort to lesser, more dangerous tactics. It meant that he'd been desperate. He'd been in danger.
Her angel had been in danger.
She didn't mean "her angel" possessively, like she had when she'd called him that in the mental hospital. At least, not the same kind of possessive. Then, it had been about...selfishness. He'd been a tool, something for her to use for survival.
Now... Now it was a claim. He was hers in the sense that... That...
Oh, Hell, in the sense that she'd completely fallen for him, and the thought that he'd been in danger, been injured, drained himself to the near breaking point was something that she didn't like. Couldn't stand. It made her scared.
Damn it!
Part of her wanted to run away from this unwelcome revelation. Instead, surprising herself, she burrowed even more under the blankets.
"The reason it was familiar?" she began quietly. "In the hospital I got away with a lot. Put a little fear into the nurses and they left us alone for the most part. But one supervising nurse, refused to be intimidated, and I couldn't do anything extreme without drawing unwanted attention."
"Okay."
"Well, part of my job was to keep you clean. Sponge baths, you know?"
"Unnecessary," he muttered into her hair.
"Exactly. Even while catatonic you kept yourself sparkly clean. Couldn't exactly tell her that though. Most of the time I was able to lie. Once though, she was in a mood and didn't believe me. So..."
"You did not."
"Of course not. I did wash your hair though. You seemed to like it. Leaned into my hands. Anyway, it was enough to convince her and she left me alone for a while."
"I see. Thank you for explaining."
"I...am fond of you too, Meg. Very much so." She could tell by his tone that he'd understood what she'd been feeling earlier before she'd understood it.
She turned over and studied him. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be fighting to stay awake.
"Shut up," she said with no heat in her tone. He smiled slightly and she kissed him before letting him fall asleep.