return to the ground, a supernatural fanfic

For the lovely msdoomandgloom over on tumblr, who prompted: Hide AU with Meg and Cas as Billy and Betty?

Hope you like it!

Meg opened her eyes and stared at the water-stained ceiling of the motel room. Shooting up in the bed, she looked down at her hands, unable to shake the sticky feeling of blood from her flesh.

"Good, you're awake." A quiet voice said beside her. Looking away from her palms, Meg turned to see Castiel sitting next to the bed.

"Clarence?"

"Yes. I was afraid for a moment that I didn't save you from Crowley in time." He smiled softly, placing one of his hands over hers. "Why do you look so worried, Meg? It's alright now. You're safe. I won't let him hurt you anymore."

"I thought he killed me. How did you-"

"It doesn't matter," he said gently. "You're alive."

"What did he do?" she asked. "You're not telling me that Crowley just let you sweep me off the ground in that alley when he wanted me to bleed out like a stuck pig."

"He ran when he saw me," Castiel admitted. "I don't think he thought that I could save you, but I did. His angel blade missed anything vital, but just barely. If I'd come a second later he would have…" Trailing off, Castiel closed his eyes and swallowed. "He would have killed you, and I would have been alone."

"You have the boys," she snapped, ripping her hand out of his grasp. Slowly rising from the bed, Meg headed for the bathroom.

"No, I don't," he said quietly. She halted in the doorway and turned to look at him. "I took the tablet to keep it safe from Dean and Sam as well as Crowley and the angels. But I had to go back for you. I couldn't leave you, Meg."

"You should've," she growled. Castiel smiled softly and padded across the room to kiss her forehead.

"No, I shouldn't have. Wash up fast. We have a bus to catch. The wards will not hold the angels at bay for long. We need to run."

Letting the water run in the shower as she stripped out of her bloody clothes, Meg leaned against the motel sink and stared at her reflection, absently scratching at the blood crusted on her face and in her hair. It wavered for a moment, exposing her true face before the girl from Cheboygan shone through.

Turning inward, Meg tried to reach her, growling when she found nothing. She was alone in the body for the first time since she'd taken the desperate, struggling actress and promised her the world. She had invited Meg willingly, craving strength and power, and had never once screamed through all the torture that her body went through. Instead, she had simply rolled over and gone to sleep, waking occasionally when Meg dipped into her head to pull up a credit card number or to offer her opinions on how the demon was dressing her body.

Now she was completely gone, leaving Meg alone in her stolen body. Without the girl's company she felt strangely alone in her head. She'd always kept her stolen boys and girls alive, craving another voice around her after the stark silence of Hell.

Shaking the feeling away, she slipped into the hot shower and moaned softly in pleasure as the water ran over her body. It lingered pink for a moment in the bottom of the tub before running clear as the blood washed from her, riding her body of the evidence of Crowley's torture.

She stayed in the shower until long after the hot water ran out, curling in the bottom of the tub with her hair hanging in tendrils around her face. Breathing against her knees, she replayed the scene in the alley over and over in her head, so sure that the blast of pain in her abdomen had spelled the end for her.

She couldn't remember Castiel sweeping in to save her from Crowley or the girl from Cheboygan dying under his angel blade. When she shifted she could still feel the cold, dirty ground under her back and the pain that flared through her body before it faded to quiet and left nothing behind.

"Meg?" She jumped, Castiel's voice ripping her from the scene that had taken place only a few hours earlier. "Meg, we have to go."

Ignoring her bloody clothes, Meg flung open the door to the bathroom and frowned at him, trying not to let her lips turn up in a smile when she saw his flustered face. Focusing on the wall over her shoulder, Castiel sighed.

"I took the liberty of finding you some new clothes while you were in the shower. Please put them on. The angels will find us if we stay in one place for too long."

Meg rolled her eyes. "Fine. But I meant what I said about the pizza and furniture."

"Perhaps later. Right now there are more pressing concerns." Handing her the bundle of clothing, Castiel politely turned his back. She slipped them on, wrinkling her nose at what he had managed to steal. The jeans were too large, nearly falling off her hips, and the shirt clung to her body like a second skin and showed off several inches of her stomach. Leaning down, she snagged her belt and jacket off the bathroom floor and slipped them on, barely managing to get the pants to stay in place.

"You look nice," he complimented when she tapped him on the shoulder.

"I look like a vagrant. Where the Hell did you find these?" she asked.

"There's a Laundromat next door. I didn't have time to be picky," he said, grabbing her hand and heading for the door. "I cannot fly. It would alert the other angels to my location. I've managed to find a way to stay under their radar for now."

"So you're saying that we're running until the boys find a way to close the gates and you figure something out?"

His mouth twitched. "Yes."

"You know that means I get locked in with everyone else, right?"

He stopped before he opened the door and stared at her. "No, it doesn't. I will protect you from Hell's grasp, Meg. You protected me in the mental hospital and saved me from Hester. I will return the favor." He gripped her hand harder as if he was afraid she would bolt from him. "I will keep you safe. I will always save you."

"You shouldn't," she repeated.

Castiel ignored her and dragged them out the door.

"He won't come, you know," Crowley said casually, cleaning his knife. She glared at him from the bathroom floor, struggling against the sigil-covered restraints that held her in place. "None of them will come. They don't really care about you. Why don't you just give it up, Meg? I'd let you go then."

She spat a glob of blood at his shoe, smiling when she hit her mark. Crowley frowned and backhanded her, sending her head into the tile with a sharp crack. Meg yelped in pain as her skin split open and blood trickled into her eye.

"I still have faith."

"That's a shame." Smiling, Crowley put down the knife and crouched on the balls of his feet, lining up his face with hers. "You could have been so great if only you had joined me, could've been one of my top lieutenants. Instead you threw your lot in with an angel and those hunters. You used to be such a good demon, Meg. Feared. Now you're just some whore."

"You're still nothing but a leech. Congratulations, Crowley, we've managed to dissolve into flinging children's insults at each other. Your humanity is showing."

Crowley shook his head at her. "Your loyalty would be an admirable trait if it were directed toward anything else but that angel and those boys. Now it just makes you look pathetic."

"You sure do know how to compliment a pretty girl," she quipped. "I'll never tell you where the crypts are. You might as well just kill me."

"I think I'll just make you scream so much you'll wish you were back in Hell," he said. "Let's see just how much worse we can make it."

"Trying to compensate for something? Well, give it your best shot. Nothing is worse than being on that rack in Hell."

"That's where you're wrong, my dear," he drawled. "There has to be something worse than Hell. We just have to find it."

"Where are we going?" Meg asked, settling into the seat next to Castiel. The angel shrugged and leaned against the window.

"Away from here. I need to keep the tablet safe."

"Then where is the stupid thing?"

Smiling, Castiel patted his abdomen. "Hidden."

"So you're carting it around like a pregnant lady. Right, that can only end well," she huffed. "If you're trying to keep it safe, why tell me?"

"Because you won't bring it to the Winchesters, or Crowley, or the angels," he explained. "I know you consider Sam and Dean to be your allies, but I'm sure that you agree that it would be best for us to stay out of their way until they complete the trails."

"You better explain those trials to me," she ordered. Castiel did as she asked; explaining the demon tablet and the trials to close the gates of Hell while Meg tried to push away the twinge of familiarity at his words.

"You look as though you've heard this before."

She frowned and shook her head. "I haven't, but I feel like I have. Like I've heard it over and over."

They fell silent and settled into their seats as the radio warbled out a song by some obscure band. Judging by the way the bus driver nodded his head at the music, Meg guessed it was one of his own CDs that he was forcing on them. To her own surprise, Meg nodded her head along with the music as if she'd heard it a thousand times before.

There ain't nothing harder than what I'm picking up, the world in front of me and behind me is burning up. My skin is made of thunder; the air is just a hollow place.

"Where are we now?" Meg asked as they clambered off the bus. She stretched her sore legs and sighed.

"I don't know," Castiel answered.

"Every small town in America looks the same, huh? I guess it doesn't matter as long as your angels and Crowley's men don't find us."

"No, it doesn't matter at all." He began to walk toward a diner when her stomach rumbled, her empty vessel crying out for food. "Come. We'll get something to eat."

"I don't need to eat."

"Your vessel does, and you need the strength so you can heal," he pointed out.

"Do you have money to buy food?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Not that I mind just walking out without paying or slaughtering the whole diner. I am a demon, after all. But you fluffy cloud-hoppers are probably against pulling a dine and dash.

"Thanks to the Winchesters, I do happen to have a credit card."

"Oh, good. You can pay like a proper date."

The bell chimed pleasantly as they entered, the chatter of human voices rising around them as the smell of fresh food wafted from the kitchen. Castiel stepped in behind her, keeping a protective hand on the small of her back. The hostess stared as she seated them, eyeing Meg's clothes with an air of suspicion.

"Why is she staring at us like that?" Castiel asked as they slipped into a booth.

"We both look like vagrants," she answered absentmindedly, looking over the menu on the table. "What are we going to do now? We can't keep taking buses. Too many eyes and ears. You never know what's lurking around."

"You know how to drive. We could get a car," he suggested. "Or walk. As long as we don't sit still for too long, they shouldn't be able to find us."

"Some first class traveling there, Clarence. Fine, we'll walk. But we're getting pancakes first."

"We cannot be killed by ordinary means, child," Azazel told her. "We are invulnerable to nearly everything, but we can be killed. Ancient blades from the Kurds, an angel's hand, a special gun, or an angel's sword are the only things that can do worse than send us back to Hell."

"What's worse than this place?" she asked. "What could be worse than Hell?"

"No one knows," he said. "So few of us die, Meg, that there is no way for us to find out. But I will tell you the same thing our father told me long ago."

"What's that?"

"You know that Lilith is deep in the pit, deeper than you will ever go if you are lucky. Lucifer is deeper still, trapped in the Cage that God created for him. As far as we know, that is the deepest level of Hell. The deepest anyone has gone. But he told me that he suspects there is someplace deeper than the Cage, somewhere far worse. Somewhere you could never claw your way out of."

"I don't understand. If we're not human souls, shouldn't we not go anywhere when we die? Shouldn't it be oblivion?"

"I hope so, daughter," Azazel said. "They are only rumors, but even rumors have some weight. Stay away from angels, and remember, better to suffer whatever torture comes your way than find out the truth. I love you, child. I would not wish to see you in pain for eternity, trapped in a place where you could never leave. We are the faithful, destined for Heaven through our father. We do not belong to eternal damnation."

Meg nodded to her father. "I'll remember."

"Good girl."

"What do you think your Heaven would be?" Castiel asked.

"What? Why do you want to know that?"

"I'm just curious," he said. "Each soul generates their own Heaven, usually their happiest memory. I'm curious if yours would be something with Lucifer or if you remember something from your human life."

"I'm a demon. We don't even have a chance at going," she pointed out. "So it isn't worth wishing for or thinking about, or whatever. I learned my lesson."

"Yes, it would be impossible for you to go to Heaven," he agreed. "But indulge me."

Meg hesitated before sitting in the dirt on the side of the road and staring into the trees. "You only saw one little part of Hell when you rescued Dean, but it's a pretty big place, almost endless," she said slowly. "It's pain, every second, even if you're not the one on the rack. It presses down on you and hurts you no matter where you are, and you either break under the pressure or you learn to adapt. Humans are good at that, you know? You have to be really strong to become a demon, and the only ones who change are the ones who keep that trait. You learn to grab any little moment of peace to keep you in the moment, keep you sane."

"And?" he pressed.

Meg took a deep breath. "There was this moment, right after I started to change. Azazel took me off the rack for the first time and let me out of that torture chamber and into the rest of Hell. He told me to explore if I wanted, and I did. They're a huge place, the torture chambers. It took me days to find my way out the first time. When I finally stumbled out of there and looked at the rest of Hell…there wasn't anything."

"I don't understand."

"No pain," she said quietly. "There was no noise and no pain for the first time since I got there. The ground was hard, sharp. It cut into me every time I took a step and it burned, but once I stood perfectly still and just looked at it, there was nothing. For just a minute it felt peaceful and like everything would be okay. That would be it, those moments. The little seconds of peace I could grab between torturing and being tortured. The first time Azazel called me his daughter, the first Hellhound pup, the first time I clawed my way out of the Pit and slipped inside a meatsuit. The little things."

"In Hell I suppose that's all you can hold on to."

"Yeah." Standing up, Meg brushed the dirt from her jeans and began to walk again. "I don't want to talk about it. There isn't any point. I'm damned, Castiel. There isn't any second chance for me."

"There could be. The Bible got a lot wrong, but it did also get some things right. If you truly repent for your actions and ask for forgiveness-"

"Shut up," she snapped. "I can't repent. I can't be forgiven. That's knocked out of us down in Hell. I'm not sorry for anything I did. I can't be. Demons don't feel that. The things I did to help you and the boys in the fight for the greater good, they weren't because I wanted to make up for the shit I did. You know that."

"Yes, I know that. You helped them for self-preservation, and then out of loyalty. It's an admirable trait."

"Thanks."

"But you're right. It's not enough."

"I'm glad we understand each other. Now let's keep moving."

"What do you think Heaven will be like, Meg?" Lucifer asked, looking out the window at the street below.

"I'm sorry?"

"Heaven. What do you think Heaven will be like, for something like you?" he repeated. "Each soul generates their own Heaven, but you, your whole race, what happy memories can you have to make your own Heaven?"

Meg shrugged. "It doesn't matter what it is, as long as there's peace. As long as it's the opposite of Hell."

"They're not really that different," he muttered, talking as if Meg wasn't in the room. "They're both endless, both personal in their own way."

"I don't understand."

He turned to face her, a small smile on his face. "You've never seen all of Hell, have you, child?"

"No," she answered truthfully. She'd clawed her way out as soon as she could, slithered into a human girl and back into a world of fresh air and sunshine, only exploring the parts closest to the torture chambers.

"But you know that the conventional methods don't always work, don't you?" She shivered, remembering her time on the rack as his smile grew wider. "Each human soul is different, scared of different things. You have to make it personal to really break them."

"I know," she whispered. "But it doesn't matter. We're never going back there, right?"

"Of course not. I'm not my father, Meg. I would not damn my children. But I do wonder…" He took her face in his hands and beamed down at her without warmth in his eyes. "You survived the usual tortures of Hell, so what would your own personal Hell be? What would break you? Your loyalty? Your faith? What would it make you do?"

"I don't want to know."

"Of course not. But remember, Hell can be personalized just as much as Heaven."

"Why did you not sleep with me in the hospital?" he blurted.

Meg leaned out the window of the car she was trying to steal and raised her eyebrows at him. "What?"

"Despite your euphemisms, I know that you were talking about intercourse when you spoke of ordering pizza and moving furniture around," he said slowly. "When we were together in the hospital, why did you not insist on it there?"

"You weren't you. I wanted an angel, not a mental patient."

"I'm fixed now."

"You are. We're also trying to steal a car in the middle of a parking lot." She went back to work, smiling when the engine roared to life. "Get in."

"I still don't understand why you would care about that, if you are a demon."

Meg shrugged as she eased the car out of the parking lot and headed toward the highway. Rolling the window down, she breathed in the fresh air. "Hold the wheel straight for a sec."

He obeyed her, watching as Meg stripped off her jacket to let the air roll over her skin before she gripped the steering wheel again. "Don't ignore me."

"I'm not. I was attracted to the big, powerful angel. Not the crazy Castiel that followed me like a baby duck imprinting on his mommy," she explained. "After that we never got a chance. You were in purgatory and I was getting the shit kicked out of me by Crowley. If you'd shown up after that little incident in his compound I would never have let you get away from me."

"I…care for you," he said suddenly. "During my time in the hospital, when you watched over me, and all that time after. I'm sorry I did not find you sooner."

"Yeah, you're alright, too."

"I mean it. Meg, you cared for me when no one else did, even if it was for selfish reasons. You killed an angel for me. A normal demon would not do that for an angel."

"A demon who wants to live would." Reaching for the radio, Meg turned the volume up until she couldn't hear Castiel over the music. "I don't want to talk about it. Just shut up and let me drive."

"See, this is the icing on the cake," Alastair explained. "Up there on Earth, they are the ones with power. Down here you are. You can make them see anything."

"I still don't understand," Meg said, staring through the door of the torture chamber. "Why bother with this? Why not just cut into them?"

"Ah, child." He shook his head and closed the door to the torture chamber. "Messing with their head can be as efficient as making them bleed, even if it isn't as much fun. We want him to break as fast as possible to become one of us. We need demons for our army.

"Now, change your face. That's it, girl. Go in there and give him hope that his wife has come to save him. Cut into him with her hands, taunt him with her voice, and he will break twice as fast. That's the thing that hurts them most, Meg. When you make Hell look like Heaven at first."

"Why did you save me?" she asked, pulling onto the side of the road. "You didn't come to me when you got out of purgatory, so why bother now?"

"Naomi had control of me when I got out of purgatory," he said. "She took things from me. Memories. I did not know that Crowley had you until then. I thought that you were laying low away from the Winchesters and I. I kept hoping you would come to me like you always did, but when you didn't come to me I thought…"

"Thought what?" she pressed. "What did you think was happening to me?"

"I thought he had killed you and nobody told me."

"Yeah, well, he almost did."

"Why didn't you pray to me, then?" he asked. "If you had called I would have come for you, under Naomi's control or not. I would have saved you sooner."

"I did, in the beginning," she said softly. "I thought one of you would come through that door and help me, because we were allies. But you didn't, so I stopped. I tried to get out on my own. That worked well, huh? I jumped right back into that pit and almost got myself killed again."

"But I saved you. I did."

"Why?" she asked again. "You shouldn't have, Castiel. You should have left me there! Crowley would've killed me and it all would've been over. If he catches me again this time, he's not gonna give me that mercy. He's gonna take me back to Hell and string me up for the rest of eternity."

Castiel's eyes hardened. "He won't. He won't hurt you again, Meg. I promise. I won't let anything hurt you again. I'm going to protect you. The Winchesters will shut him down in Hell and you will be safe from him."

"It won't happen," she argued. "There's no way to keep me out of Hell. Sooner or later I'm stuck down there with him for all eternity. Better dead than playing Crowley's whore."

"I will find a way," he promised. "Crowley held you but I didn't come. I failed you then. I managed to resist Naomi when she wanted me to kill you. I will not leave you to be hurt or killed again, no matter what happens."

"But why?" she shouted. "Why did you do it?"

"I told you. I care for you."

"Bullshit!" she snapped. "If this is out of some sort of fucked-up sense of obligation because of what I did in the hospital then leave right now so I can try to enjoy the rest of my time before those boys lock me down in the Pit, because you don't owe me for that."

"Why won't you just believe that I love you?" he asked angrily. "Are you that angry at me for saving your life?"

"Careful, Clarence. You're starting to sound like a human."

"I don't care. I saved your life because I love you, Meg. I don't want you to leave me again. I meant what I said when I came to you when you were hiding out in Europe. I mean it now."

Falling silent, Meg turned the car on again. "Fine. I believe you. You still shouldn't have done it."

They drove in silence for a few minutes, Meg staring straight ahead at the road, refusing to look at him. "Everything I've seen indicates this is where you're supposed to say it back. I know you feel the same way. I want to hear it."

"I need to concentrate on the road. Take a nap or something."

"Meg?"

"What is it, Clarence?" she asked groggily, rolling over in the small bed of her latest hideaway. She saw Castiel standing near the open window of the small shack, staring at the ocean. The sea air blew in, ruffling the hair around his face and bringing the smell of salt into the small room. The cot she lay on was hard, barely big enough for two people to lie side by side, and the rest of the room was bare.

He'd shown up three days ago with a stupid smile on his face and a zip lock bag of honey in one hand. She'd railed into him about safety, about her need to lay low, but he'd only smiled his stupid smile at her and strolled into the shack like he owned it, insisting on staying with her until he was ready to go back to Sam and Dean.

"You picked a good place. It's peaceful here."

"Yeah, well, no one would think to look for me in Europe," she said, snuggling down against the stained pillow.

"I think somewhere like this would be my Heaven," he told her quietly. "Did I ever tell you about the Heaven I favor?"

"No."

Castiel turned away from the window and crawled onto the cot to lie beside her. Meg let him pull her close to his side and wrap his arms around her. She tugged the salt-stained blanket over them and laid her head back on the pillow as he curled closer to her. Castiel usually stayed in bed with her for a majority of the day, always clutching her like he was afraid she'd vanish and he'd be left alone again.

He never did more than kiss her lightly on the mouth or forehead and hold her, and she never pushed him, uninterested in taking the shadow of her fierce, powerful angel to bed.

"It's beautiful," he told her, settling her head against her breast. She absently stroked his back and he sighed, closing his eyes under her gentle touch. "It's a field, and the sun is always shining."

"Who does it belong to?" she murmured, closing her eyes and letting the sunlight spill across her face.

"An autistic man who drowned in his bathtub in 1953," he said. "An eternal Tuesday afternoon where he flies his kite and the sun shines down on the grass. It's incredibly peaceful. Much like this place."

"This isn't peaceful, Clarence. This is anything but," she protested. "This is running and hiding for my life."

"I know. But if you forget that for just a moment this place is almost perfect." Opening his eyes, Castiel tilted his head to look up at her.

Meg looked down and raised her eyebrows at him. "It'd be perfect if you weren't snuggling with a demon, right?"

"No. It would be perfect if my family was at peace," he said slowly. "You would still be here with me. Safe and alive. If I could have a Heaven, that would be it."

"Go to sleep, Castiel. You're talking crazy."

He obeyed, closing his eyes and snuggling as close to her side as he could.

"Ugh, we need gas. Give me the credit card," Meg ordered, turning the radio down and killing the engine as they pulled up to a pump.

"I'm surprised you're not going to steal it."

"I want a snack. Gonna see if they sell some sort of touristy shirt, too. I want one that fits." Striding into the store, Meg grabbed a bag of chips and a soda before walking to the counter to pay for her gas.

"That your boyfriend in the car?" the man at the counter asked, looking at her with obvious lust in his eyes.

"Sort of," she grunted, pulling an oversized gray t-shirt over her head as the man rung it up. She covered the bright yellow smiley face on the front with her jacket and grabbed the bag with her chips and soda off the counter as she paid.

Castiel was out of the car when she emerged from the store, leaning against the passenger side door. "Get back in," she growled at him, trying to walk around the hood back to the driver's side. Without speaking he grabbed her arm and turned her around, pushing her back against the metal with inhuman force and slamming his lips down on hers.

Her bag crashed to the ground as Meg wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, slipping her tongue into his mouth. Castiel ground his hips into hers, nearly lifting Meg off her feet as he held her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, gasping when Castiel's mouth trailed down her neck.

"What was that for?" she asked when he finally pulled away. Holding Meg to him by her legs, Castiel shrugged.

"I saw the way he was looking at you and I did not like it."

Meg leaned her forehead against his chest and laughed. "Territorial, huh?"

"Over you, yes."

"It is kinda hot, but we need to keep moving."

"Yes, we do." Castiel kissed her again before lowering her to the ground, gently running his hands up her legs to squeeze her ass before he let her go.

"You're beautiful."

"You're crazy."

"I know, but I'm telling the truth. You really are very beautiful."

Meg frowned and flipped to the next page in her magazine, glancing up now and again to watch as the angel ran through the garden. "I'm glad you like the meatsuit."

"I was not talking about your vessel." Castiel sank to the ground in front of her, gently lowered her magazine, and folded his arms together on her knees to rest his chin on them. "I mean you. The demon."

"You're fucking with me. Go back to playing with your flowers."

"I'm not," he insisted. "You've clearly suffered, become twisted under Hell. But I can see it under all of that and it is beautiful."

"See what?"

"Your soul," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Your soul shines very brightly."

"I'm a demon, Castiel. We don't have souls," she snapped.

He smiled at her. "You're wrong. I can tell you don't believe me, but that's okay. I still think you're beautiful."

Castiel kept his hand on her for the rest of the drive, gently rubbing her neck or resting it on her thigh as the landscape blurred around them the faster she went. She slowed when night fell, the stretch of highway devoid of streetlights.

"Did you see a sign?" she asked, twisting around in the seat to look behind her. Castiel shrugged.

"I couldn't read it, but I do see a town. It's a little dark, though."

She smirked at him. "No pizza, but I think maybe we could get a bed. I'm tuckered. Let's see if we can find something to eat."

Meg pulled into a parking spot and cut the engine, instantly regretting it. A few of the streetlights illuminated the small town, but no lights shone from any of the windows. It was eerily quiet without the chatter of human voices and electronics to fill the night air, forcing goosebumps to sprout on Meg's skin.

"Maybe we should keep going," Castiel suggested. "It looks as though this place is empty."

"Wonder what cleared it out?" she muttered, kicking the door open with her boot. "C'mon, Clarence. No people means no one to report us to Crowley or one of your angels. Maybe they left some food behind."

"It's like we're the only two people in the world," Castiel said.

"Adam and Eve," she said dryly. "Except we've already got clothes."

"That's not funny."

"Wasn't supposed to be."

Meg strode up to the nearest shop, growling in frustration when she found the door was locked. Knocking the glass away with her elbow, she reached through the hole to undo the lock before she stepped inside. The lights refused to work, but enough of it poured in from the streetlights outside for her to see into the abandoned store. Clothes hung off of racks on the floor and the walls, mostly skirts or sundresses that she would never touch but she knew the dead girl she was wearing would have loved.

"Is it the food you wanted?" Castiel asked, following her into the shop.

She grabbed a shirt off one of the racks and threw it at his face. "What do you think? Keep the door open so I have some light. Maybe I can find a pair of pants that fits and get rid of this stupid shirt." Stripping out of the offending material, Meg reached for the t-shirt rack and flipped through it, tossing shirt after shirt on the floor when she discovered they were too large.

"I think you'd look fine in anything," he said.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," she teased, holding up another t-shirt. She squealed when he hooked his fingers through the waistband of her pants and pulled her away from the rack, holding her from behind.

"It isn't flattery," he whispered, pressing a kiss just under her ear. Meg shivered and leaned back into his touch, one hand trailing down to unhook her belt.

"We can't stay in one place long, remember?"

"We'll be safe, I promise." Kissing her neck again, Castiel helped her with her belt, pulling it through the loops of her pants with swift fingers. "I love you, Meg. I want this for us."

She gasped when he suddenly spun her around and pulled her flush against him, eyes darting between her lips and eyes. "Sure you just don't want to play dress up, Castiel? You'd look great in that flower-patterned one over there."

"There will be time for jokes later," he said. "Right now I just want-"

She leaned up on her toes to kiss him, cutting off anything else he might've said. He leaned into her kiss, running his hands down her back gently. She reached for his coat and suit jacket, pushing them off his shoulders to pool on the floor at their feet.

Meg tried to change the kiss from gentle to demanding, tried to tear his shirt from his body and push him to the floor, but Castiel stopped her, taking her hands and repositioning them on his shoulders. "No, not like that," he whispered, dropping his head to kiss his way down her neck. "Slow, Meg. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here."

Her whine of protest turned into a moan when he sank his teeth into the spot where her neck and shoulder joined. Castiel kissed his way back up her neck, his hands stroking her sides and stomach but never raising to her breasts or dipping under the waistband of her baggy jeans to feel the silk of her inner thighs.

She tore at his clothing again in retaliation, ripping the buttons from his shirt and sending it to the floor to join his coat and jacket. The clawed at his exposed skin, raking her nails down his back and sucking bruises into his neck and shoulder.

He held firm when she tried to force him to the floor and kept his hands above her waist even as she wiggled herself out of her oversized jeans, lightly touching and exploring her skin. He kissed her slowly, lazily, as if there was nothing hunting them and they really were the only two people left on the planet. Meg scrabbled at his belt and tried to pull his pants down his hips, but Castiel caught her hands again and held them together with one of his, using his other one to keep her pressed against him as he absently stroked her back.

The faster she tried to push him the slower his touches became until his hands stopped moving and he pulled back completely. "Meg, please. We're safe here. Just let me."

"Just fuck me," she growled back.

He shook his head and ran his fingers through her hair, tugging at the knots. "I love you, Meg. Let me love you."

He resumed his gentle exploration of her body, fingers finally moving downward to dance between her legs. Trembling, she allowed Castiel to turn them around and lower her to the floor of the shop, laying her down on his discarded coat.

"Say it," he begged, kissing his way down her body. "Please, Meg. I want to hear you tell me, just once."

She gasped when his mouth closed over her, grinding up toward his face. She writhed under his too-gentle touch, tugging harshly on fistfuls of his hair to try to make him move. He ignored the pain and flattened one hand on her stomach to keep her still while the other moved between her legs with his mouth.

"I love you," she finally gasped. "There, I said it. Will you just fuck me now?"

"Yes," Castiel said gently, crawling back up her body to place a gentle kiss on her lips. Meg leaned into his touch and tugged his pants down his hips, wrapping her legs around him to try to draw Castiel forward. "Thank you."

"Enough with the sappy crap."

He still moved slowly, pushing into her with gentle, even thrusts. She tried to make him move faster, tried to spur him into the kind of rough, animalistic sex she was used to with other demons. He responded by pressing soft kisses to her throat and face until she broke and returned his gentle touches, softly running her hands over the scratches she had opened on his back and kissing the bruises she had sucked into his neck.

"Say it one more time," he breathed against her neck. "Just one more time. Please."

"I love you," she told him as he brought her over the edge. "I love you, Castiel."

"You know, I think I changed my mind," he said, pulling Meg closer to him and adjusting his suit jacket under his head. Meg leaned away from where she was resting her head on his chest and frowned.

"About what?"

"My Heaven," he said slowly. "This moment, right here, that would be it."

"Mine, too, I think," she breathed, settling back against his chest. "This is…peaceful. Better than those little moments I managed to catch in Hell."

Castiel kissed the top of her head, gently threading his fingers through her tangled curls. "I'm glad that our ideas of Heaven are similar. It's comforting."

"Why? You and I don't get one."

"I believe that you and I would share a Heaven, if I had a soul, and if we both deserved it," he said slowly.

"You can't share Heavens," she huffed. "You said each soul gets their own."

"Soulmates share Heavens," he said quietly.

Meg pressed her face into his chest for a moment to hide the smile that came to her face before she drew away from him and stood up, once again searching through the rack of t-shirts.

"Did I say something wrong?"

She laughed and spun around to look at him. "No. I just wanted to do what we came here to do. We need to move soon."

"Come sleep. We can stay until the morning."

"We don't need sleep," she pointed out, pulling a random t-shirt over her head and reaching for the shelf of jeans.

"I know, but I feel tired, anyway."

Meg smiled indulgently and lay down next to him on the coat, once again pillowing her head on his chest. "You overexerted your meatsuit. Men get sleepy after sex."

"Is that all?" He yawned and wrapped and arm around her waist, gently rubbing circles on her arms with his fingertips. "We'll move in the morning. We should be safe for a little while longer."

"Alright."

She stayed awake until Castiel's breathing evened out; only closing her eyes when the streetlights flickered out one by one and they were plunged into total darkness.

Groaning, Castiel rolled over on the hard floor, stretching his arm out in search of Meg, his eyes flying open when his hand met open air instead of the demon's warm body. Sitting himself up on his elbows, Castiel glanced around the small shop's main room and found it empty, the sunlight streaming in through the open door and broken window.

Dressing quickly, Castiel stepped over the discarded clothing on the floor and exited the shop, carefully closing the door behind him out of habit. He headed down the deserted street with his trench coat dangling from his arm, the faint wind ruffling his suit jacket and sending trash and leaves skirting across his path. He tried to search for her using his angel powers, shivering when some force in the town slapped down on him and prevented him from using them.

"Where are you?" he muttered to himself, circling back toward the clothing shop and their car. He froze when several streetlights suddenly flickered to life and a neon sign in one of the storefronts came on. Turning in place, he watched as the other storefronts followed suit, doors opening on their own, bells chiming, and electronics flickering in the windows.

It only lasted a moment. When he completed a full circle everything stopped, shutting down as quickly as it had turned on. The streetlights flickered out last, hardly noticeable in the daylight. Swallowing, Castiel sprinted toward the car, eyes daring around frantically as he searched for enemies.

"Oh, I wondered where you flew off to."

Skidding to a halt as he reached the shop, Castiel saw Meg standing outside of the closed door, dressed in a baggy purple shirt and jeans. She held a bulging plastic bag with an unreadable logo on it in one hand and a saran-wrapped chocolate chip muffin in the other.

"Meg, I…"

"I don't think this place has been abandoned all that long. I found a convenience store and nothing's moldy or dusty yet. Nothing says post-sex breakfast like some muffins and chocolate milk," she said, tossing the muffin back into her bag. "Where'd you wonder off to?"

Castiel threw himself at her, wrapping his arms around Meg and pulling her to his chest. She yelped against him but returned the hug, gently threading her fingers through his hair. "There's something here, Meg. I felt it pressing down on me, keeping me from using my powers. We have to go now."

"Alright. Let me go and get in the car so we can get outta here. We can chow down on the way." Smirking, Meg drew back and headed to the car when the sound of metal crashing to the ground rang through the air. She dropped her bag, angel blade sliding from her sleeve as she sprinted around the car, Castiel on her heels.

Castiel froze when he recognized the dirty, battered man stumbling down the street toward him. Stepping in front of Meg, Castiel grabbed the man, falling back into the street when he kicked and struggled.

"Sam?" Meg knelt on the pavement, reaching forward to grab the tall man's arm. Sam flailed away from her, kicking his long legs out and knocking her backward. "Sam, what's wrong? What did this to you?"

He screamed at her, a feral look in his eyes as he tried frantically to scrabble backward. Castiel grabbed his arms to steady him. "Sam, talk to us."

"She did!" he shouted. "Meg had us, Cas! She tortured me! She killed Dean!"

"No," Meg whispered. "I wouldn't do that. I don't hurt my allies."

"She's been with me the whole time, Sam. Meg couldn't have done that," Castiel said softly.

"She did," Sam snarled. "She'll hurt you, too, Castiel. She told me."

"Just calm down. I'll heal you."

"You do that," Meg told him. "I'm gonna go find the son of a bitch that's wearing my face and kill it."

"I think we should stay together," he protested, reaching one hand out toward her. "Meg, it could be dangerous."

Ignoring him, Meg pulled her angel blade from her jacket and headed in the direction Sam had come from.

Stomping through the abandoned town, Meg kept her head held high, prowling down the street in an ever-widening circle as she tried to catch the scent of a monster or the waves of power that would flow off another demon or angel.

She screamed, sensing nothing coming from the disused buildings around her. "Where are you?" she shouted to the empty street. "Whatever you are, you better come out here, and you better not be wearing my face when you do it!"

The wind picked up, sending trash rolling past her feet as her hair whipped around her face, obscuring her vision. For a moment she saw a shadowy figure run up the steps to the building in front of her, but it vanished when the wind blew her hair back over her eyes.

Something pulled her toward the building while her instincts screamed at her to turn around, walk back to Sam and Castiel, and flee the abandoned town. Still, she found her feet moving forward without her permission, stepping into the shadow of the old warehouse. The sun streamed through the shattered window, the broken frame casting a shadow in the shape of a cross over her face.

Shivering slightly, Meg walked up the steps, her boots making no sound against the stone no matter how hard she brought them down. The door opened easily, the smoke stained wood nearly crumbling under her grip. The creaking of the hinges echoed through her head even as she stepped inside the room, the cool, damp air washing over her skin.

Sunlight shone through the holes in the roof, illumining patches of the grimy floor while the rest of the building stayed cloaked in darkness. Meg felt a rat scurry across her shoe and kicked out wildly, freezing when the rodent's squeak of pain was drowned out by the familiar rattling of chains. The smell of rotting meat and human waste rushed over her as the chains rattled, fading with the sound.

"Too afraid to show yourself?" she taunted, raising her angel blade toward the opposite end of the building where she had kicked the rat. A large patch of darkness made it hard for her to see what was standing under another hole in the ceiling, a natural spotlight forming in the shadows.

She moved stiffly toward the light, ignoring her instincts as they screamed at her to turn and run. Dread filled her belly and traveled upward as she walked, her steps becoming slower and more hesitant until she stopped just outside the patch of sun.

"No. Oh, no. No!"

Meg stared at the mutilated body of Dean Winchester hanging next to a small, metal table holding a variation of knives. He hung from a beam by his arms, cuffs keeping him held upright even as the rest of his body slumped toward the floor. He was so destroyed that Meg wouldn't have recognized him if she hadn't done the same thing to him in Hell more times than she could remember.

Any other human wouldn't have recognized what was hanging from the cuffs. Dean's body resembled a chunk of meat hanging from butcher's hook, the few patches of skin remaining on his chest and legs the only sign that the corpse in front of her had been human. The rest of his skin lay curled in a pile at her feet, already buzzing with flies she hadn't noticed before.

Kicking the skin aside, Meg stared into the empty eye sockets, the red face grinning back at her.

"I won't do it," she said. "I won't. I don't want to hurt them anymore. They're my allies. I don't hurt my allies." Tilting her head back, Meg screamed at the hole in the ceiling. "You hear me? I won't do it again!"

Dean Winchester's skinless face continued to grin down at her as Meg sank to the floor, clutching her head in her hands. Her angel blade fell from her hand and clattered against the wood, slicing through the bones and muscle that it hit as if they were air. She ignored the slick sound of flesh falling to the floor and sized two handfuls of her hair, tearing at it in an attempt to ground herself.

"I won't, I won't, I won't," she chanted. "I won't hurt him. I won't do it. Not again. I can't do it again."

You will, a voice whispered in her head. You always will. This is what you are now. This is what you deserve.

Shaking, Meg stood and reached for the cuffs that held Dean Winchester's corpse in place. The pile of meat spilled to the floor and sent a wave of blood washing over her shoes and trickling through the cracks in the wood. The flies scattered, landing on the corpse again almost immediately. She ignored them as she grabbed the body around the ankles and dragged it into the shadows, smearing a trail of blood across the floor.

The familiar sensation of blood drying on her hands made her shiver even as she gently re-arranged the tools on the metal table, straightening the unused blades and cleaning the bloody ones. The dirty cloth she used was already stained brown as she used it to clean her hands before throwing it onto the table's bottom tray for later.

"Oh I feel like a beast, there ain't no place for me to sleep this life away. Hang me like a beast, there ain't no place for me to dream this life away," she sang softly, leaning down to take a roll of duct tape from the table's bottom tray. Placing it next to a small flaying knife, Meg smiled and turned to walk out of the building, steps measured and precise even as her legs trembled and she tried to stop herself.

"I don't know why I can't heal you," Castiel said, moving Sam over to the side of the road. "There must be something in this place preventing me from using my Grace. I felt some power earlier, but I suspect once Meg kills whatever did this to you I should be able to use it again."

"She'll kill you," Sam croaked.

"She won't. When Meg gets back we'll get you to a hospital and we'll find Dean. He can't be dead."

"He is. She had us both strung up and she tortured us for hours, Cas. She used her angel blade. She told us she was going to get back into Crowley's favor." Shivering, Sam tried to curl into a ball, moaning at the pain. "She's doing it for Crowley, Castiel. She tricked us all."

"She wouldn't. She hates him," Castiel argued. "Someone must have tricked you, taken her face and used it to hurt you."

"No, it wasn't a shapeshifter. It was Meg," Sam insisted. "She told me. She looked right into my eyes when she killed Dean and told me you were next."

Castiel opened his mouth to reply when he suddenly pitched forward, eyes widening from the pain. Sam scrambled backward, frantically searching for a weapon as a lithe figure strode toward him.

"No…no," he stammered. Meg shook her head and clucked her tongue at him.

"Shouldn't have told him, Sammy. I wanted it to be a surprise," she said, crouching over Castiel's body. Dragging Sam forward by the collar of his shirt, she rested the tip of her angel blade at his throat.

"He's gonna get up and kill you," Sam spat.

Meg grinned and looked up at him through her eyelashes, gently stroking his flesh with the blade.

"You're wrong, Sam," she crooned, keeping her grip on his shirt even as Sam struggled against her, his flailing forcing the angel blade into his flesh. She licked her lips at the blood and leaned forward to drink from his neck, ignoring the way his hands battered at her head. "It took me years, but I finally win. The big, bad Winchesters are down for good."

She drove the blade into his neck before Sam could speak to her again, smiling when she felt his blood flow over her hands. Still crouched, she wiped the angel blade on his torn clothes before turning on her heel to face the angel.

"Now we have our fun, Clarence."

Arms aching, Castiel groaned as he came back to consciousness. As his head swam the angel registered that his arms were restrained above his head, bare toes barely brushing the grimy, blood-stained floor under him. The sun that shone through the hole in the roof above him hurt his eyes, forcing the angel to look down at his feet. The wind whipped through the room, sending goosebumps up his arms as he slowly realized that he had been stripped naked from the waist up. Struggling against the cuffs that kept him chained, Castiel growled when he glanced up and saw that they were covered in Enochian sigils designed to trap his power.

"Show yourself," he said calmly. "Tell me why you're doing this."

"It's no fun if you know," Meg teased, striding forward into the natural spotlight the hole in the roof created. "Here I was hoping to surprise you, Clarence."

"Who are you? What have you done with Meg?"

"It is me, Castiel." She smiled; her eyes filling with black as she gently laid the angel blade down on the small, metal table and selected a smaller knife. "Your thorny beauty, remember?"

"No, you wouldn't do this. You wouldn't side with Crowley."

"Oh, but I would. See, he's the ruling power in Hell, and I knew that if I didn't want to spend the rest of eternity listening to Dean insult me and holing my sweet ass up in crappy motels and warehouses across the country that I'd have to go to him eventually." Walking behind him, Meg tugged on the chains, testing their weight before she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I thought you loved me," he said, still struggling against her.

Meg shushed him and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. "I do, Castiel. I really, really do, as much as a demon can. That's why I'll make it quick for you, I promise. I'll cut that tablet right out of you to bring to my King and kill you nice and quick, not like I did to Dean." Trailing her fingers down his bare stomach, Meg kissed his neck again and dipped her hand into his pants, giving him a slight squeeze. "I do owe you some pain for the holy fire. But don't worry, angel. It won't last long."

Smirking, she circled back around to his front and raised the knife, gently running it over his stomach. "Meg, please. You don't want to do this," he pleaded as she cut into him, digging the tip of her knife past the first layer of skin. "Meg, please."

"Oh, Castiel. I love it when you beg," she purred, sinking to her knees to lick at the trickle of blood. "Oh, yeah. Tastes like rain."

"You'd never work with Crowley. He did something to you, or something else did. Just let me down and we'll fix it. The Meg I know is loyal. She would never kill her allies or work with the demon that betrayed her father, betrayed her God. The Meg I know has faith."

"Loyalty and faith are for children," she hissed, thrusting the knife into his stomach up to the hilt. She recoiled inwardly at his screams, yelling for her body to stop even as her hands continued to carve into his skin. He writhed in the chains, the natural spotlight making the blood that ran down his body glow. "And I'm not a child anymore. Your boys got rid of both my daddies, remember?"

Meg laughed and shoved Castiel's tie into his mouth when he tried to talk back to her. Grabbing the roll of duct tape from her metal table, she wound it around his head, beaming as he gagged and strained to reach her. Still laughing, Meg pressed a kiss to his mouth through the gag and stroked his face, wiping away the tears welling in the corner of her eyes.

"It's all okay, Clarence. It'll be over soon. I'll just reach in there and grab the tablet, and then I'll let you go. I'll hit your meatsuit's heart with the angel blade on the first try. It'll barely hurt. I promise."

Ignoring Castiel as he pleaded through the gag, Meg raised the knife again.

"Where do you think demons go where they die?"

Meg rolled over on the small cot and raised her eyebrows at him. "What brought that on?"

"I'm just curious."

She sat up and shrugged, the bed sheet hiding her lower half from view. "I don't know. There are rumors, but it's a great big mystery. I hope it's nothing after we die. Just peace."

"Why?"

"Hell is Hell, even for demons," she said quietly. "You know what it's like. You've been there to rescue Dean. It's blood and pain and bones and screaming all the time. I'm a demon, Clarence. We're damned. We can't go back to Hell to start the process over again."

"I know."

"So we'd go somewhere worse. Father told me once. It's supposed to be a place deeper than the Cage, where you can never, ever claw your way back out. Nothing can get in to get you, either. If there's somewhere worse than Hell, I don't ever want to see it. Oblivion would be better."

"I suppose you're right," he agreed. "But surely my father wouldn't be cruel enough to create a place like that."

"He was cruel enough to create Hell," Meg pointed out.

"Then I hope you're right, too," he said. "I hope there's no afterlife for demons."

Meg opened her eyes and stared at the water-stained ceiling of the motel room. Shooting up in the bed, she looked down at her hands, unable to shake the sticky feeling of blood from her flesh.

"Good, you're awake." A quiet voice said beside her. Looking away from her palms, Meg turned to see Castiel sitting next to the bed.

"Clarence?"

She stared at their joined hands, dread growing in her stomach.

Remember, Lucifer's voice whispered in her ear. Hell can be personalized just as much as Heaven.