(AN: This takes place right after "Goodbye Stranger", in which "Meg" the demon is finally killed by Crowley, and Castiel disappears on a, well, bus, it looks like. No episodes after this were taken into account, so please keep that in mind. This is an alternate universe, I suppose, and it contains some sexual things but not actual sex between any of the characters. The first three-four chapters will be with Castiel, Dean, and Sam. Meg appears in the fourth or fifth chapter. Skip to those if you'd like. Also, if you read this please review it with any suggestions! I will check out your ff as well.)

1

In her very last moments, Meg Masters the demon knew that her life had come to an end. She knew that Crowley would kill her. But more importantly, he would most definitely kill Castiel and the Winchester brothers if she didn't distract him. If risking her own non-life would save Castiel, then so be it. It was worth it.

Meg had never been able to vocalize her feelings towards that strange fallen angel that had become ever so important to her. At least, she had never actually said the words. Those words were not meant to be said by a demon to an angel. Those words were human words, and that feeling was a human feeling. Meg was nowhere near human, and Cas? Well, Cas was more human than her, but he also always had that lost puppy look when any feelings were brought to his attention.

Crowley pulled out an angel blade, holding it up as if to showcase just how shiny it was. A smirk lay on demon Meg's face as she turned to Sam, who looked nothing short of frightened.

"Go. Save your brother." She said. It came out as mild sarcasm. She knew sending Sam away and inside to meet Dean and Castiel would also mean leaving herself alone with Crowley. She also knows that there was no way in the firey pits of Hell she could completely kill him herself. He wasn't just a demon anymore, after all. He was the King of Hell. Almost as an afterthought, she added, "…and my unicorn."

Sam didn't seem to take any notice of Meg's final declaration towards Castiel. He tromped off, leaving the two to face off against one another. That was the closest that Meg would ever get to telling anyone just how strong her feelings towards the angel were. Meg had spoken to Sam earlier about how one girl made him want to change his entire life. Meg dubbed those very rare people "unicorns". Castiel was that person to her. He changed her in ways he would never understand.

Crowley and Meg faced-off, not bothering to waste much time with witty banter. Unfortunately for the demon, she was soon on her last leg, crawling on the ground and barely able to lift her hand up to swipe innocently at Crowley. He lifted her up by the neck of her shirt roughly, and despite being bloody and torn, this doesn't stop her from also being defiant. She noticed as the Winchesters get into their Impala to leave the area, that Castiel is missing. Her heart leaped; he made it. She mocked Crowley one last time with the fact that now his angel tablet is missing. The words taste so sweet on her tongue, and she internally marks that as a victory.

With a quick jab of her hand, she managed to slice open Crowley's shoulder. But that would never be enough. Crowley took control of the blade himself and tore into her chest.

Demons do not have dying thoughts. They feel pain, they are blinded, and then, they go out, like a flame, ever too quickly.

That marked the end of Meg Masters, the demon that fell in love with an Angel.

"She deserves a funeral."

Sam had taken to muttering to himself as of late, and Dean hardly noticed anymore, but this seemed to be directed towards him as a conversation starter. It had been three days since they last saw Castiel and the angel tablet, and three days since they had stared out of the back window of the Impala and watched Meg get wasted completely by Crowley.

"I don't… you mean Meg?" Dean asked with the hint of a scoff in his voice as he sat down his beer in front of him. Sam hardly looked up from his laptop to nod.

"Do demons even have funerals?" It was hard not to laugh at such an odd request from his younger brother. He wasn't close to Meg; none of them had been. She did help them sometimes but in the past, what did they learn from trusting "nice" demons? Although, Dean did have to admit that Meg was worlds different than Ruby.

Sam shut his laptop and massaged his temples.

"I don't know, Dean. I just…" He sighed with his eyes closed before looking up at his brother to finish his sentence. "I feel like we owe it to her, you know?"

"No, I do not know!" Dean laughed again. He tossed a ball towards the wall and let it ricochet back to him. He was leaning back in a chair with his eyes half closed. He thought he should be a little more concerned with the current situation, but he wasn't. Castiel would come back. He knew that much. Castiel always came back.

Dean looked towards Sam and sighed as well, righting himself in his chair and turning to face the table Sam was sitting at. Sam was staring at him with a scowl on his face and his eyebrows crinkled in his normal, brooding fashion.

"I just mean that Meg was trustworthy. We can't say that for a lot of people, or demons, these days."

Dean interrupted before Sam could continue speaking. He mockingly laughed at his brother and slammed his hand down onto the table, palm flat and unmoving.

"Did you not learn anything about trusting demons from Ruby?" He spat out, although he began to immediately regret it. In truth, he knew that Sam was correct. Even though Meg was a demon, she always happened to be there when they needed her. She was sketchy, she was sassy, and Dean had started to consider her a friend. But he hated when Sammy was right. There was no way in hell Dean was going to let Sam know how big of a hypocrite he was.

"Castiel trusted Meg." Sam snapped back, much louder than Dean had done. This elicited an eye roll from Dean, which wasn't the reaction he was expecting. Sam knew Dean saw Castiel as a best friend, a member of their small, broken little family. If Dean didn't trust Cas's judgment, who could he trust? He was, after all, an angel of the Lord.

Dean rolled up his chair to the table that Sam was perched at with his head cocked to the side and an ever so smug grin smeared across his face. That shit-eating grin was the one that Sam hated the most, and kindly wanted to punch right off of the elder brother.

"Yeah?" Dean began as he stood up slowly. Honestly, thought Sam to himself as now it was his turn to roll his eyes. Why must Dean always act like he's in some kind of movie? Dean, however, didn't catch the subtle movement of Sam's eyes and continued to glower at him with a smile on his face.

"Well where is our trusty angel now, huh? Has Cas really ever been that trustworthy himself?"

What was Dean talking about? Sam's mind replayed an old memory, of when Bobby was still alive. Wasn't it Dean who insisted against the other two that Cas was loyal to them and not Crowley? Wasn't it Dean who had been the most shocked to learn that the stupid birdbrain was making deals with demons? Of course it had been, but now what? Now it was Sam sticking up for Cas, because he finally understood. Dean never understood anything. He never tried to.

Sam felt guilty for these harsh words in his head against his older brother but deep down he knew that it was at least a small bit true. Dean never wanted to hear the other side of the story, but when it was his turn to tell the other side, everyone had to drop what they were doing and listen up to Big ol' Dean.

"When he wasn't being controlled by some super-bitch in a suit? Yea, I think we could trust him, dumbass!" Sam snapped back.

But Dean was having none of it, and he was definitely beginning to become angry. Sam knew that when Dean lifted his chair off of the ground and slammed it back down onto the floor. This wasn't something new; it seemed like almost every day someone had to clean up a mess Dean made out of rage, whether it be throwing beer bottles, tossing papers and research off of the table, or throwing something.

"What about before that, Sammy?" he said in one of his pseudo-calm voices that he always used when he was really pissed off and trying not to yell. "What about when he was being a complete assbutt, as he says, of his own fucking accord?"

Sighing and running his fingers through his dark brown hair, Sam shook his head and stood up. It was pointless to argue about this, and he simply didn't have the energy to do so. He stepped over to a window and stared out.

"You just had… different views. That's all." He muttered towards the window. Warm breath fogged over quickly, and then disappeared. Sam was unsure if Dean had even heard him at all, but he really didn't care. All he wanted to do was kick Crowley's ass, and go to sleep.

"Vegans have a different view too, but you don't see me being completely pissed off at them, right?"

Sam turned his head and stared quizzically at Dean, who just stared at him back. He looked confused himself. It seemed that neither of them knew where the hell that had come from, considering it had absolutely nothing to do with the subject at hand. Dean shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, muttering "I don't know" to himself before tossing his body like a dead fish onto the couch.

That was an argument dismissal, Sam knew. If Dean didn't get his way, he would simply disappear from the argument with some witty, or in most cases, absolutely stupid, retort and walk away. Sam never knew why it was so easy for his brother to ignore his feelings most of the time. Sure, he himself was fairly good at stowing them away, but Dean just seemed to… let them simmer.

Things hadn't been all sandcastles and ninjas between the brothers since Meg was killed and Castiel hauled ass out of Dodge. They sped off into the night in silence until they reached their new home. There they spent an hour and a half calling Castiel's name. It was a stab in the dark, but it was the best they had at that very moment. Cas hadn't come.

The next day was spent fighting amongst each other about absolutely menial things, such as Dean forgetting to replace the toilet paper, or Sam tapping on his keyboard at all hours of the night when Dean was trying to sleep so he could get his drink on as early as possible the nest morning.

The day after that was spent with one brother in the house, stinking drunk and once again calling for his angel, and the other out, investigating a possible case in the area. The case Sam had sought out was a complete bust, and with most of his day wasted, he decided to check out a new bar instead of going home to Dean.

The third day held an angry, hung-over Dean, and a Sam that didn't want to be bothered with bullshit and just wanted his friends back. The entire day had been quiet until the sun had started to make its decent to the other side of the world, when Sam suggested holding a funeral for Meg. He didn't think it such a bad idea, after all. She had been loyal to the very end. And he knew it had been because of how she felt about Castiel, though he didn't have the heart to tell Dean that he nearly lost his best friend to the love of a demon.

"Besides." Dean's voice suddenly sounding from the other side of the couch caused Sam to almost fall out of his chair. Once he was able to completely right himself, he stood up and walked over to Dean, who was laying half asleep watching "Doctor Sexy, M.D". Sam still thought it was an absolutely ridiculous show but whatever kept Dean happy.

"Besides what, Dean?" He asked with a yawn, although he really had no reason to be that tired at that time. It was only around 7:30 at night, and he hadn't been doing anything that required much energy all day. But he was tired nonetheless

"Besides, we don't know where her body is or whatever." Dean managed to slur out.

He did have a point. They had left Megs dead vessel laying where Crowley had killed her, but it was unlikely that it would still be there. Crowley didn't clean up his own messes. Sam wouldn't put it past him to let the hellhounds tear her apart. Either way, there would probably be nothing left of her if she even still was there. Who knew if the police had cruised by and found her laying there, all bloody and torn open?

"Yeah, you're probably right." Sam ran his long, thin fingers through his hair. No point in trying to convince Dean of something that probably wasn't worth the breath. Fatigue suddenly overcame him in a wave that he couldn't seem to ride out by himself. He would have fallen to the floor if it hadn't been for the couch to support his body

Dean grumbled in reply and was snoring within seconds. Why did the world seem so sleepy? Even the floor looked like a comfortable bed to Sam at that moment. It was possible that all his energy had been spent on worrying about the angel tablet, Crowley, and Castiel that now he was just entirely too bushed to give a shit anymore.

His eyes slid closed as soon as his body hit his bed. He drifted in and out of dreams until a knock on the front door carried him back to the waking world.

Sam quietly stepped passed the couch so as not to wake up a passed out Dean with a dagger in his hand. Their HQ was decked in all sorts of mojo that should make them appear off the grid to anyone trying to find them: who in the world could be here knocking on their door?

Sam slowly opened the door and peeked out.

Once he saw who was standing at the Winchesters front door, he swung it open with wide eyes.

"Hello, Sam. I brought pie."