Title: Temptation
Author: AdoreTheAngel
Pairing: Castiel/Meg
Disclaimer: Yeah. I fucking wish.
Summary: Meg, Castiel, a desert, a blanket, and some cigarettes. Based off the song 'Temptation' by VAST. Enjoy, minions.
A/N: I don't know, okay? STOP LOOKING AT ME! *hides in a corner*
Castiel thinks that maybe he's in a desert. The sand is hot under his bare feet and the breeze is bone dry and sharp when it hits his skin.
He's not wearing his trench coat now, nor is he wearing the suit jacket that always was hidden underneath. His white sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his tie has been loosened to a point that he could pull it off over his head if he wanted to. He stands at the top of a dune, watching individual grains of sand fly through the air, angry and fast and vicious.
He's standing here because he needs to think, far from his brothers and from the humans he's begun to think of as his friends. Sometimes it was good to be alone, he thinks, sighing softly as he loosened stiff, tense muscles with a certain amount of relief.
He wonders what he's doing, what he's thinking, but then he thinks of her and he forgets his arguments.
Meg does this to him, a tricksy little demon bitch of his own.
"Why don't you sit, Clarence?"
He starts slightly when he hears her voice, but doesn't do what he should. He doesn't run. He doesn't try to kill her. He just does as she suggests, joining her on the soft red blanket that hadn't been there a moment before.
She watches him with curious brown eyes, her head tilted to the side as he settles, drawing one knee up to his chest.
"Why are you so worried, Clarence?" she asks him. He doesn't take offense to her nickname, not anymore.
Castiel sighs as he runs a hand through his hair, a gesture he'd picked up from Sam. "I am in the middle of an angelic civil war, Meg. I am killing my own brothers. Why wouldn't I be worried?"
Meg purses her lips for a moment before covering his hand with hers. "They're trying to kill you, Castiel," she says quietly, her voice too kind to be anything but an act. "I'd rather it be them then you."
"They're my brothers, Meg!" Castiel says, his voice pained. Suddenly his eyes are narrowed, and he says, rather viciously, "But you wouldn't understand. You never could."
She doesn't answer him. She knows the deal. She knows that her angel- her angel- wasn't the most popular for his choice in girls upstairs. She knows that in the end, when all of this is over, he can and probably will kill her.
Meg knows, and for some reason, she's okay with the idea that the angel to do her in would be this one. She doesn't mind that it will be Clarence that will end her.
Trying to chase away the thoughts that tried to plague her mind, she reached into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and her zippo. Shrugging off the extra layers, she bears her shoulders and arms to the sun, plucking out a Newport from the battered pack and slipping it between her lips. She feels Castiel's familiar blue eyes on her face and fingers, watching her curiously as she lights the cigarette and breathes deeply.
"Want one?" she asks him as she blows the smoke out through her nose, offering him the pack.
He watches her for a moment, then gently takes the proffered pack from her fingers. He slips out a cigarette and presses his finger against the tip, instantly lighting it.
"Nice trick," she tells him with a smirk as he puts the cigarette to his lips and inhales. He doesn't cough, because he technically doesn't need to breathe, but he looks fascinated at the feeling of the smoke entering his lungs.
"This is very strange," he tells her softly, letting the smoke escape him as he speaks.
Meg shrugs lightly. "When I was human, I was addicted to them," she tells him, tapping ash off the tip. She leans against him, making herself soft and pliant and comfortable against his side.
"You remember?" Castiel asks, putting the cigarette to his lips to inhale again. Meg nods against his shoulder, her face oddly blank and her eyes clouded.
"I had a sister, back then." Meg's voice was soft, open in a way that Castiel wasn't used to. "She was pretty, I remember. A dancer. With blonde hair and eyes the color of the sky. Her name was Dee." she sighs and takes another long drag from her cigarette, exhaling slowly.
Castiel is curious, now. He watches the demon as she remembers, her eyes far away and sad.
"What happened to her?" he asks, his head tilted slightly as he looks at her.
"She died," Meg says after a moment. "She was what I sold my soul for. I was named Appel, at the time- it means temptation. I went to the crossroads and pleaded my life for hers. She came back, and lived a full life." she stubbed her cigarette idly against the palm of her hand, tossing the butt away into the sand.
"I didn't know demons remembered their human lives," Castiel tells her softly, breathing smoke onto her hair. "I thought that was ripped out of you."
Meg shakes her head. "We never forget what we lost our souls for," she explains to the angel, because of course he wouldn't know. "We always remember what stupid, trivial thing we decided was worth our soul." she says the last piece as though she was repeating another's words. "We will always remember the temptation that made us what we are."
Castiel is silent for a moment as he brushes back a strand of her wavy brown hair.
"You are the greatest temptation I've ever had, you know," he remarks in her ear, feeling the softness of her hair against his nose and cheek. "And the only one I've ever acted upon."
She looks up at him, her lips a lopsided smile, slightly mocking smile. "You probably aren't going to win angel of the month, Clarence, if the only temptation you've ever acted on is the worst sin you could commit."
Castiel shrugs at this. "I don't really think I care," he tells her, brushing his fingers lightly across her cheek, lingering on the edges of her lips and eyes. "Not if that means I have you."
Meg smiles sadly, lifting her hand to mimic his movements, letting her fingers trail over light stubble. "You're so sweet, Clarence," she tells him softly, lightly touching her lips against his. He pushes forward for more, but before he can get it, she's gone.
He sighs and stubs the remainder of his cigarette in the sand. He only ever wants one vice, and she is it.
If he were human, he'd probably be going to Hell.