Chapter 2

"Why, Clarence, I never knew you were so flexible," Meg said as she watched Castiel's legs spread all the way across the twister board, and he struggled not to fall down. He chuckled as his knees finally gave in and he collapsed onto the board.

Meg was sitting in the seat reserved for visitors, her feet rested on the table covered in magazines. She was wearing the paisley scrubs that the hospital required her to, but no job was going to take away her style completely, so she still wore leather high heeled boots. Her brown hair fell down around her shoulders loosely, and she was wearing more make-up than her fake job as a nurse really called for. She liked looking pretty, though. Even if it wasn't really her body, Castiel seemed to like it…

"You try," Cas said, smiling at her.

"I don't really do games."

"Please, Meg. Do it for me," he pleaded. He had been acting like the naked man at the rave ever since he woke up a few hours ago…There was something else, though. Crazy Cas had a sort of innocence in his big, blue, puppy-eyes which somehow managed to be both pathetic and sweet. She was almost happy that the past didn't seem to be paining him anymore. Of course it meant nothing good that the only angel who would go to bat for her was lost in Crazy town, but still…When he had remembered everything, he had looked as if his soul was being ripped out, which of course was impossible since he didn't have one to begin with. It was impossible to conceive everything that he must have been feeling, the agony in his eyes was surely only a veil for the real pain. Castiel was a brave soldier; he knew how to mask all emotions, especially any that might reveal weakness.

Of course 'Clarence' had immediately tried to leave when he got his memories back, and realized that Dean had come to 'Emanuel' for help with a problem 'Castiel' had caused. She had wanted with all of her, well, not her heart since she didn't have one, but perhaps with all of her meat-suit's heart, to stop him. It had been Dean who had followed him, though. Meg felt a surge of hatred as she thought of the self-righteous, self-absorbed, hunter. It nauseated Meg the way that Dean had talked to 'Emanuel' about being mad at 'Castiel.'

She even found herself considering the possibility that maybe the reason he had been under a coma the past few weeks was because of the heartless way Dean had just treated him. She had been relieved when he woke up a few hours ago, but also a little disgruntled when soon after waking up he started asking about his friend Dean. She dismissed him. The last thing he needed right away was an angry dick in his face…Maybe even literally as well as metaphorically knowing Dean…

What right did he have to be mad at Castiel? The problem with Dean was that he saw everything in terms of black and white, or good and evil. Reality was so much messier. Of course, Meg wasn't a fan of Crowley any more than Dean was, and she hated the idea of Castiel teaming up with him, but he had really been given no choice. She believed in Lucifer, and was loyal to him, but she understood that Castiel felt differently about his older brother.

He had sacrificed everything to end Lucifer's regime…He had literally exploded…twice…in the fight to save earth from the apocalypse. Meg still thought that the apocalypse would have been for the best, but unlike Dean, she was able to see the situation objectively. She could hardly blame Cas for taking the only possible path to stopping Raphael from letting Lucifer back out of the cage. Besides, Cas made a great God. For one, he was willing to work peacefully with the demons to sort souls into Heaven and Hell. For another thing, he didn't just sit back and watch the earth go to shit, he saw what needed to change, and made an effort to change it. Hearing about all of the blasphemous preachers and other hypocrites and non- believers that Castiel had smited as God had actually been…entertaining. Meg wouldn't have minded the plan at all if it wasn't for Crowley's part in it.

So, no, she hadn't called Dean and Sam to tell them that Castiel was awake from his coma. Yet. She would, she told herself. Soon. It was Dean who had kept the dirty, bloody, trench coat for his 'friend'. It was Dean who had convinced Castiel to go into the hospital and help Sam.

Meg resented all of this more than she liked to admit to herself. It was Dean, it had always been Dean. She knew that as well as she knew that being in the angel's presence was changing her. She was changing into someone she hadn't been since…Maybe since she was human. She believed in having a cause. For a long time, it had been raising Lucifer from the pit. Meeting Castiel had made her falter. He had made he think about a different cause, one that she couldn't have seen herself fighting for before she'd met him. 'Team Free Will.' She despised Dean, of course, but…There were nice aspects to working with the good guys. The animosity between her and Dean was practically pleasant compared to the unveiled hatred demons always seemed to feel towards each other, even when working together. Sam was actually not bad. She sometimes even liked the younger Winchester brother. She supposed Sam was probably the closest thing she had to a friend.

When he had looked at her, not now that he had lost his mind, but before…Before the leviathans had overcome him, when he looked at her…He could see her….Not her pretty vessel, or her sometimes blackened eyes…Being an angel, he truly could see her, in all of the raw pain, and festering wounds that her true form was. When he looked at her with those deep blue eyes…His gaze would be tearing away at the rough edges of her tarnished soul. Maybe it still was, or maybe that was the memory of all of the possibilities the two of them had once had.

When he had first seen her, after shifting Sam's insanity into his own mind, he had shied away. He could see only the monster inside of the human girl whose body had been destroyed, internally at least, so thoroughly that she would die the instant Meg left her. He couldn't see the broken spirit she really was, which he had once seen when he looked at her. She should have been happy about this. After all, she was a good soldier, just like Castiel, even if they were from different worlds. She knew how to mask emotion. She knew how to be strong, and never let anyone see her being weak. So she had hidden the hurt she felt when he shied away.

She remembered how she had explained to him that she was his caretaker of sorts for a-while. He had smiled so innocently than, and if she'd had a heart, it would have broken for him. She had wrapped her arms around him, and told him it was going to be alright. When she had put her arms around the fallen angel, it reminded her of a happier time…The pizza man. Of course, they had been preparing to go into battle then, so it wasn't as if it was all rainbows and unicorns, but nothing with 'Team Free Will' ever was.

She wished that she and Cas had been able to spend more time like that…Wrapped in each other's arms not in comfort, but in pleasure. She missed the feeling, not only of his lips on hers, or her arm reaching beneath his trench coat, but of him….He was good, and pure…She couldn't see his true form, as he could see hers, which was probably for the best since she didn't want to be burned to a scorch, but she could feel him. She could feel the warmth, and sweetness, and strength of being an angel when he pressed against her. It made her feel clean, something she wasn't used to, and normally would have been opposed to. Being near him was amazing enough, but kissing Castiel was the best feeling Meg had ever experienced, and she was several hundred years old.

"Please," he pleaded, looking from her to the twister mat.

"OK, fine, for you, Clarence," Meg sighed, smiling at the broken shell of what had once been the bravest man Meg had ever met. She swung her legs down from the table, and kneeled down to spin the wheel.