Meg rolled her neck and watched Sam pace around the church, repeatedly checking the time as he did. "It hasn't been that long," she said, rubbing her neck against her shoulder to lessen the sting from the needle. "We should talk to pass the time." He glared at her from the corner of the church. "How 'bout a game, then? Why don't we play 'I Spy'? I'll start. I spy with my big, black eye, something…brown."
"Meg," Sam groaned, walking to the other end of the church.
"Do you have a guess? The walls? The floor? That weird looking stain over there? 'Cause those would all be wrong."
"Why don't you just be quiet?" he snapped.
"It's gonna be an awful boring eight hours if you don't talk to me," she told him. He ignored her and began to pace again, checking the locks and peering out the windows. "Okay, real talk. What are you two idiots gonna do when you close the gates?"
"Keep hunting, I guess," Sam muttered, walking away from the window.
"Not gonna go back to your unicorn and beg her to take you in, settle down in a nine-to-five in suburbia and have gigantor children?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"There's always something to hunt," he said. "I can't go back to Amelia and Dean can't go back to Lisa. This is it."
"That sounds depressing," she commented.
"Shut up, Meg," Sam snapped.
"We should take a vacation," she suggested.
Sam snorted. "Yeah, alright. You'll be human and then you, me, and Dean can all take a trip to Disneyland like one big, happy, normal family."
"I've never been," she said, smiling at him. "I was possessing this kid once and her parents were gonna take me, but Azazel called me back before we could go." She closed her eyes as she talked, calling up the memories. "Nice family. Little house up in Maine, a dog and a cat and this swingset in the backyard. The dad liked to make me and the mom pancakes on Saturday mornings after cartoons. The all-American TV type. Kinda regretting having to kill 'em all when he told me to."
"How many people have you possessed?" Sam asked, squinting at her.
"I dunno," she said, shrugging. "Don't look at me like that, Sam. I've been a demon for a long time. When you guys sent me back to the Pit from the Masters body it was the first time I'd been back in hundreds of years. Body-hopping is one of the easiest ways for Hell to lose track of you. Hunters, too. Humans start looking for their kids or sisters or mothers, and with the technology you all came up with, it's easy to track people down now, even if they're laying low." She shrugged again.
"It was easier when I was younger and there weren't any cameras or tracking shit. Then humans went and invented things like pictures and birth certificates. Suddenly people start noticing when you don't age or your fingerprints are all over a crime scene."
Sam stared at her. "How long have you been on Earth?"
"I don't even know how old I am," she answered. "Time in Hell is different, and even when I was human we didn't have the same system. I wasn't educated as a human, either, so I didn't exactly know how everything worked. But I remember the Crusades and the Civil War."
"Those didn't happen anywhere near each other," he said.
"I was a little too busy trying to follow the word of my Lord to really notice," she drawled. "Doing good demon things, like kicking kittens and torturing orphans."
"Really?"
"No, not really. I don't always take girls. I was a soldier in quite a few wars. I had a little fun whenever dear old dad let me up on Earth," she said, rubbing her neck into her shoulder again. "Hell, I miss him. I miss all of the old crew. They really knew what being a demon meant before Crowley took over and screwed it all. You can't make real demons by having souls wait in line for thousands of years. Doesn't break 'em right."
"You would've liked Abbadon," Sam muttered, looking away from her as Meg straightened up.
"Abbadon? The Abbadon?" she asked, focusing on him. "Shit, Sam, how did you meet her?"
"She time traveled through a closet with our grandfather," he told her.
"Do you have any idea how powerful she is? She was handpicked by Lucifer to be a warrior for Hell. If anyone should've been queen after you slammed him back in the cage, it should have been her," Meg said, excitement filling her eyes. "Abbadon would know how to make demons the right way."
Sam stared. "You woud've followed her if we hadn't taken her down."
"I'm not disloyal," she snapped, gripping the arms of the chair tighter. "Abbadon was amazing to watch. She could torture better than Alastair, break you faster than anyone else in Hell. The only ones even near her on the food chain than her were Lilith and Azazel, and they still came in poor seconds."
"She tried to kill us, you know," Sam said. Meg's eyes hardened.
"How'd you do it?" she asked softly.
"Bullet with a devil's trap on it in her brain, and then we chopped her up and buried the parts separately," Sam explained. "We couldn't kill her."
"Of course you couldn't," Meg muttered, relaxing in her chair. "Y'know, you should let me move around. My ass is gonna get sore in this chair. I promise not to kill you." Sam raised his eyebrows at her. "What? I haven't lied to you since that first time. That's better than any other demon."
"You've tried to kill us more than once," Sam pointed out. "Our dad, too."
"At least I was honest about it," she huffed. "I didn't pretend to be your friend save your life just to get you to trust me so I could screw you over." She took a breath. "How did you catch Crowley, anyway?"
"He was going to kill all the people we saved," Sam answered, running a hand over his face. "He started doing it. He wanted us to stop the trails, so we faked a deal with him and tricked him. Locked some of those sigil handcuffs on him and dragged him back to the bunker."
"You were going to cure him if I didn't agree to get turned into one of you," she said slowly. "You should've just killed him. Even if he was a human, he'd still find a way to screw you. He does that."
"If he'd killed you in that alley, we would have cured him," Sam told her. "We needed him out of the way. He was killing people."
Meg raised her eyebrow. "How'd he even find out about those people? I can't even keep track of all of them." Sam muttered something she couldn't hear, even with her superior senses, and she huffed. "Wait, did he read the books?"
"You know about the books?" Sam yelped.
"I'm in them, so yeah," she said, rolling her eyes. "I was holed up in this little town in Idaho after we got out of Crowley's compound, and the library had 'em all. Passed the time when I was hiding out. You guys got quite a little fanbase going on, you know? The things they write about you."
Sam shuddered. "I know."
"Oh, you found those, then?" she asked cheerfully, watching him squirm. "There's more than just the ones with you and your brother, you know. You and him and some random chicks, you and that Jess girl living happily-ever-after. There's even some of you and me." She smirked at him. "There's some of you and your daddy."
"Shut up, Meg!" he snapped, face red as he turned away from her.
She laughed. "Oh, come on. Pretty cool, though. How'd the guy know all that?"
"He was the prophet before Kevin," Sam muttered.
Meg laughed again. "No shit. Really?"
"He was an alcoholic and a little crazy," Sam said. "But, yeah, really." She didn't reply, watching as Sam got up to pace again.
"Are you sure this is gonna work?" she asked, watching him pace. "I mean, I know it works the opposite way sometimes, but how did you know that shooting me up would work?"
"There was a video in the archives of a priest doing it," Sam answered. "That's when we found the dungeon."
"So you're positive this won't kill me?"
"If I do it right."
"That's reassuring." Meg snorted. "What do you think happens to a meatsuit's soul when you do this?"
"Is she still in there?" Sam asked.
Meg shook her head. "Nah, she's long gone. She asked me to let her go about a month after Crowley started sticking his knives in me. Shame, too. I kinda liked her. She held up well the first time we got tortured by Crowley's goon back at the compound. But this pretty little body's all mine now. Guess it'll be mine permanently."
"I guess she would've died if she were still in there," he said, slumping back against the wall.
They fell silent again, Sam staring at the wall and Meg glancing around the decaying church. "You know, we could always fuck to pass the time," she joked, wiggling her eyebrows at him. He glared at her. "Oh, piss off. It was a joke. Being inside you once was enough, thanks."
"You could apologize for that," he snapped.
"Boo-hoo. I'm sorry I possessed you and hurt your widdle friends." She smiled at him. "Seriously, though, how do you breathe up there? How often do you bang your head on doorways? Trying to move around in that thing was like controlling a fucking Gundam."
Sam ignored her and rose to fiddle with the needles again, filling one with his blood. "Hour's up."
She bared her neck to him as he came toward her. "Time for my shot then, doctor? Go ahead and hit me."