"Come on, Cas, you're the one who's died."

"You almost died."

"Doesn't count," Meg watched him lower his book, over trying to ignore her and sighing as he finally shut it closed. She'd been curious, bothering him and knowing full well the angel's patience was running thin. "If you tell me, Clarence, I'll stop asking."

She'd brought the question up when a close call almost killed Castiel, his gladium angeli bullet wounds still fresh as he sat in an awkward position on the couch as to not put pressure or stress on the sores that remained. Demons seemed to get better with guns nowadays, which was an advantage over the sword-skilled angel who hadn't expected the shots to fire and to have been so overwhelmed so quickly. He'd been hit twice and grazed once, enough to declare a loss and just manage to retreat himself and meg to the safety of the bunker.

"Why the sudden interest?" he asked her when she nudged him again. "You've never asked before."

"Because I want to know if the fight just ends, or if it ends up some shitty continuous battle," she said, poking him in the side and having a smug look of satisfaction on her face when he practically whined from the pain.

"Stop that."

"Tell me."

"I don't know, stop," he shoved her hands away. "Every time has been dying, then waking up. Happy?"

His irritation was always something that made her amused beyond anything else in the world. There were times she wanted to try and put him and see if he would go far enough to keep that promise of smiting her.

"That's it? Nothing?"

"Yes," he shifted, grunting a bit. "I do remember the first time however, hearing a voice. Deep, sexless. I always assumed it was God, but I was never sure."

"So you just woke up," Meg considered it a bit. "Ever wondered if there was an afterlife if you actually bit the dust?"

"Maybe. There's rumors. Places like Lethe and the Abyss that may exist outside Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory, but beyond that, I doubt it."

"Angels, so optimistic. How's the wounds?"

She watched him shift, amazed how he slow he was healing and how he seemed to actually be in pain. "Holy metal cuts worse than conventional weapons. But I'll be fine."

"Let me see."

"It's fine."

"Castiel."

With a bitter groan Castiel rolled his eyes in a purely human fashion and leaned back, letting her yank his shirt from where it was tucked in and felt her part his dress shirt to run her hands over the two grace leaked holes in his abdomen. He hissed when her cold hands passed over the tender holes, and she shushed him quiet and debated on getting the first aid kit. "Tell me what you know about the afterlife then. You should have cleaned these out."

"You don't know about them?"

She huffed. "Demon, Clarence. Couldn't care less about religion."

"Well," he began, listing a wide range of "heavens" from different regions of human theology, from Limbo and Guinee to Irkalla and Hel. She listened, occasionally ordering him to move a certain way while cleaning his wounds and wrapping gauze tight on the wounds. It reminded her of back when she'd watched over him in the hospital, a moment when Castiel went on about the bees and other insects in the garden he saw while she wrapped his foot after ignoring the bare feet rule and stepping on a glass another patient had broken. He'd went on about being able to he made heal himself but she'd said that he had to play human and suck it up. The sudden memory made her smirk.

"I had no idea Hamistagan and it's similarities to Purgatory were so amusing," he muttered, breaking her train of thought and with a dizzy look she turned to look at his face, the angel now oddly relaxed with his shirt still half on and his blue eyes narrowed. "However I thought you'd find the Tzoah Rotachat more interesting."

Meg shrugged. "All of it is a bit over the top to me. And still not an answer to my question."

"There is no answer. I don't know, and I doubt even God knows. Or cares," he added bitterly.

"Wonderful."

"We could test it. Though I'm sure we wouldn't come back, and if there is no heaven or hell for us it would be a bit of a wasted effort."

"Great," she muttered, leaning back, ignoring the way Castiel's eyes widened and how he almost squirmed away at the fear of her smashing into his still too sore wounds. "So we just get erased from existence and the fucking humans get to fuck around and exist."

"Are you bothered by that?"

She shook her head. "Nah. Doesn't make any sense to me if you have a good death I guess."

"Mmm."

Sitting in silence, Castiel felt his grace repair his vessel faster than before, and occasionally Meg would lean back into him. He could hear her thinking and with a tired sigh he leaned back and focused his energy on rest.

And if there was an afterlife and if he could participate in such a thing, he hoped he would at least have her with him.