I Can't Explain

Summary: In Meg's last moments, she is forced by an unwanted companion to contemplate her final action and what it ultimately means. One shot.

Ah, I've been a little, well, inactive on the fanfiction front. I have a big project on the back burner but before I put that out I thought I'd reacquaint myself by writing a one shot.

Before anything else, a warning: spoilers for Ep7.18 'Goodbye Stranger'. With that out of the way, about the story: I have to admit, I became a fan of Meg. Her sly one-liners, varying agendas and her attachment to Castiel made her an interesting character, and I was disappointed when she finally got killed by Crowley.

Even her death raised a lot of questions for me – demons are pure evil, right? So why was her last act, well, not so evil? Hence this fic. I've included an OC I used in another story of mine, 'The Voice of Shawn', but it's not necessary to read that to follow this fic.

The title is taken from a song by The Who. Rated T-13 for a little swearing.

Enough of my rambling – hope you enjoy.

The moon was a perfect crescent in the night sky. Meg coughed, blood sputtering from her lips, musing that if she had to die, she couldn't have picked a more beautiful night to do it.

There were footsteps to her right. Meg let out a noise that was between a groan and a snicker. "Couldn't let me go in peace, could you, Fifi? Not enough that you shoved a pilfered angel blade into my stomach and not have the decency to actually hit the vitals so I go down quickly…"

The footsteps stopped and the figure produced a stool, sitting down beside her. "My, my, Meg. You've become quite the conundrum."

Meg blinked, a little surprised, but the smile didn't leave her face. "You. I heard through the grapevine you were out of commission. I guess the rumors were wrong, hmm?"

Azrael, Whom God Helps, the Archangel of Death, smiled. "Let's say they were inconclusive. It's been, oh, about three years, I'd say? You remember our last meeting(i), of course – holy fire, hell hounds, some merry threats thrown around."

"We had a gay, old time, didn't we?" Meg said, and then coughed again. Her eyes lolled back in her head.

And then Azrael waved her hand. Meg's eyes flew open as pain washed over her again. "W-what? What are you doing?"

"Briefly suspending your imminent death," Azrael said. "You see, there is still a soul trapped in there, twisted and black and corrupted as it is. As such I still have some jurisdiction over it. Unfortunately I can do nothing about the pain of your last moments, but you can suck it up, right?"

"Well, I suppose torture at the hands of an angel would be a novelty," Meg said, gritting her teeth. "Didn't really figure you to be one for petty revenge, though, Azrael. I'm torn between being disappointed and being impressed."

"Don't lower me to your level," Azrael said, "I don't have the patience for torture. No, Meg, you and me need to have a little talk."

"Talk? That's rich. Okay, I'll bite – what about? Need advice on what not to do when in stabbing distance of an angel blade? Because I could probably give you a few pointers on that. If it's the need to gab like girlfriends I don't think I'd be able to contribute much to the conversation, though."

"You still haven't figured out what you just did, have you?"

Meg spat, the blood coming out in a gruesome red and black gob. "You mean other than get myself killed?"

"To save someone else. Specifically, you were thinking about 'your unicorn'."

This time Meg really let out a groan. "Oh please don't tell me…"

"It was a selfless act. The ultimate sacrifice."

"Oh for fuck's sake…"

"Now you see, Meg," Azrael had made herself comfortable now, seemingly oblivious to Meg's continuous suffering, "When that happens to a normal human being with an intact soul, it's an express flight upstairs, no questions asked. However, you, my inexplicably blonde, unwanted acquaintance, are a demon. Hence the conundrum."

"Are you going to tell me what you actually want from me or are you just going to keep blabbing while my spleen makes its way up my esophagus?"

Azrael looked at her. "What made you do it, Meg? And I know it's been a while, but try and give me as honest an answer that you can muster up."

"I thought I explained myself before," Meg retorted. "I'm all about having an agenda. First I followed old Yellow-Eyes, and then Lucifer. When they were both gone I hopped on the 'Eliminate Crowley' train. Which leads us to here and now; not ideal, but in the long run if it leads to that douchey, suit-wearing fuck meeting the same end, then I'm all for it."

The night sky was looking less than perfect now. Clouds had rolled over and drops of rain were coming down. Meg blinked as the water got in her eyes. This was turning out to be a truly sucky death.

There was a click as Azrael opened an umbrella, effectively shielding herself and Meg's face from the rain. "I suppose there's some semblance of truth there," she said. "However I've found that hate is usually not a powerful enough emotion to sacrifice one's self over. But you're getting there; try and dig a little deeper now."

Meg was about to snap back at her with another sarcastic comment, but then stopped herself. Why had she done it? She was a demon, had been one so long she didn't remember who she had been as a human, let alone how it felt to be one.

And then along came Clarence(ii). Granted they didn't quite see eye to eye at first, notwithstanding him attempting to exorcise her and then using her as a plank over holy fire in their first real meeting, but somehow that changed. She could pinpoint the exact moment too – that kiss at Crowley's prison. Something had happened there, something had stirred in her that she first tried to convince herself was a mere quiver in her loins and nothing else. But that didn't explain why she sought him out when he went missing, why she worked with Dean to restore his memory, why she ended up taking a job as a nurse (of all the damned things) in order to watch over him in that insane asylum.

Damn that Castiel. Damn him for waking up something in her that she couldn't even begin to articulate.

"Well, Meg?"

And the implications hit her hard enough to make her temper flare and lash out at the angel. "What do you want to hear? That I actually experienced a sort of epiphany, broke through the glass ceiling and had a look at what was on the other side. I'm a fucking DEMON, oh mighty Angel of Nonliving. I'm motivated by things like hate, and greed, and selfishness. You want me to explain why I suddenly turned around and did the opposite? I can't, all right? I CAN'T explain. And even if I could I certainly don't owe YOU one!"

Her tirade stopped only because she coughed and brought up another gob of blood. Meg groaned and closed her eyes.

The rain suddenly hit her face again. She cracked an eye open to see that Azrael had gotten up, the stool having disappeared, and was walking away. Meg felt death creep over her again.

With the last of her strength she called out, "Hey."

Mercifully Azrael stopped. She turned to look at Meg.

"When you see the pizzaman, tell him I'm sorry I didn't make it. But he had better."

Azrael said nothing. And then she walked back and placed her palm on Meg's head. Meg didn't shout or struggle, she accepted the exorcism wholly. She finally passed with a smile on her lips.

-'χαμόγελο'-

In Biggerson's Restaurant at Bangor, Maine, Castiel was jolted out of his semi-stupor when he heard a chime at the door. He frowned; none of the Biggerson's Restaurants had that function.

He looked at his table and found, to his surprise, a tiny porcelain figurine of a unicorn by his hand.

Castiel hung his head. "You'll leave an irreplaceable hole, Meg."

And he took the figurine and vanished.

End

i 'The Voice of Shawn', chapter 24. This is a not so subtle cheap plug.

ii In the episode this fic was set in Meg asks Castiel, "Why are you so sweet on me, Clarence?" which is a reference to the movie 'It's a Wonderful Life'.