Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

I'm thoroughly enjoying this :)

Chapter 4: There Is Always A Story Behind Us

Castiel landed silently on the creaking wooden floors of Rufus' cabin where the Winchesters resided. He was alone this time, but the way he moved and the way he was underdressed hinted that he was with Meg previously. His trench coat was missing as was the black blazer. Clad only in his black slacks, shoes, white button down, and blue, seemingly backwards tie, Dean looked up from his book and sighed deeply at the angel.

"Finally!" He stated, standing up and stretching. "What took ya so long?"

Castiel shuffled nervously and looked down at the floor. He was trying to convince himself to lie to his friend to lighten the current situation... but he was a bad lier.

"I was in a garden..." Castiel said quietly. "Watching bees pollenate the flowers. It's a very interesting event, Dean." The angel put on a goofy smile. "You would really enjoy it."

Sam gave his brother a look of confusion. In some way, Sam knew Castiel was lying. He had been around Meg for long periods of time and it seemed as if he couldn't go anywhere without her. However, Sam knew from experience that demons were seductive creatures who could hold a grip over your mind. But Castiel could very well go uncontrolled by the demon and simply just enjoy her company instead.

"Well, glad you're hear because we need to talk." Dean stated, pulling a beer from the fridge.

Castiel moved forward, but slowly. He sensed something. Something that told him to step back rather than forward. He watched Dean eye him plainly but there was a glint of mystery there. Sam was slouched in his chair, but Cas noticed that he leaned forward ever-so-slightly with every step the angel took closer to the center of the room. Once he stopped moving, Castiel looked down as his nose picked up a familiar scent. The sound of a striking match made him flinch and it was over before it started. The angel was engulfed in a Holy Ring of Fire, unable to move.

"Dean..." The angel said sadly. "Dean what is this?"

Sam stood and crossed his arms, looking at his brother with disapproval. "I told him he doesn't have to do this."

"I told you, Cas," Dean said while tossing the box of matching onto the table. "We're gonna talk." The Winchester took a swig of his beer. "Is that ok?"

The angel shuffled around in his trap. "Of course but..." He eyed the lethal ring. "Why do you have to keep me in this?"

The older Winchester pulled up a chair. "Because we're gonna talk about Meg and you're not gonna try to avoid us by flapping away. Got it?"

"There is nothing to talk about, Dean."

Dean sighed and pointed the neck of his bottle at the angel. "Liar."

Castiel took at deep, angry breath. "Dean, I'm very busy and I don't have time to be interrogated about my "relationship" with Meg." The angel threw heavy air-quotes around the word 'relationship'.

"Oh, so it's a relationship?" Dean inquired, mocking Castiel's air-quotes.

The angel looked around the room nervously, his eyes softening. "No... I-" Castiel couldn't seem to find the words to speak to his friend. Dean, however, was right before. Meg was a demon and Castiel was an angel. This was a sin on steroids and if the angel still belonged to Heaven, he would more than likely be sentenced to death for his actions.

"Cas we know you're free to do your own thing but..." Dean hesitated. "We're worried about the consequences." The angel's friend took another long swig of his beer, knowing that this was going to be a long night.

"Dean... you don't understand." Castiel stated sadly.

"Ok. Well then make me understand."

Sam backed off the wall and walked towards the ring. "Cas, if anyone knows what you're going through well enough, it's me." The younger man sighed. "Look, I understand. Ruby had me... she did, but we know you have the will power to... to uh..." Sam glanced at his brother.

"Drop her like a bad habit." Dean deadpanned.

The angel slouched in sadness and he looked about the room, trying to avoid the gaze of the brothers. "I told you... You don't understand... Meg," The angel started. "Meg was there for me when you couldn't be. I know that you're running about trying to save the world but you left me..." Castiel bore his pure blue eyes into Dean, trying to search for some kind of sympathy that he knew the man carried in the black hole of his heart.

"Ok, well when you say it like that we sound like a couple of bad parents." Dean inquired. "But just tell me one thing?"

Castiel nodded.

"You two aren't..." Dean awkwardly thrust his hips in the air, smacking an imaginary ass. "You know..."

The angel look at Dean with confusion and his jaw clenched as he tried to put his finger on what the he was speaking of.

"I don't-" Castiel paused.

"Sex, Cas! You two aren't having sex are you?"

"No..." He stammered. "No I wouldn't even know how to go about that."

Dean chugged the remainder of his beer, wiping the corner of his mouth. "Good." He grabbed a fire extinguisher and emptied it onto the roaring fire that held the angel at bay. "You're free to go... By the way," Dean started. "Where're your clothes?"

Castiel flattened his tie and looked up the ceiling, feeling his Grace crackle with very thought of going back to Meg. "At the garden." And with that, he was gone.

Castiel was a bad lier.

XXXXX

The angel landed quietly back in the motel room. The curtains were drawn and the gloom of the day shroud it in the feeling of utter tiredness. With much stillness, he approached the bed, trying his best not to disturb the one he shared it with. He undid his tie and tossed it on the floor and the shirt followed suit. He scratched the faded sigil on his chest, kicking off his shoes and socks. Castiel lifted the comforter and slid beneath it, welcoming its warmth. Meg's body heat, little that there was, radiated onto him and he could hear her heartbeat in his ear. Rhythmic and it nearly lulled him to sleep. She turned around in the sheets, opening her brown eyes to him, groggy and heavy, she held his face in her hands and kissed him silently on the lips. Castiel closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling of her softness.

"Try to sleep." She asked of him, snuggling her head into the crook of his bare neck. Her fingers were lightly tracing the scars of the Enochian symbols that raggedly adorned his chest.

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?" Meg mumbled into him.

She was right. Sometimes, he would lie awake at night and wonder why he was cursed. Or so he thought he was. Being resurrected when the only thing he wished for was death... if his father really was watching over him then he had some sick sense of humor. Did he not know that sometimes, Castiel would try and kill himself and give up because a voice in his head asks him not to? He tried hard to sleep at night but the voices of Heaven in his ears were too much. He would ask them to stop, ask them to allow him sleep. But they would not relent. And sometimes, he did not sleep because he feared that one morning, he would wake and find her gone. They were in this together... or so he thought. The angel knew that the demon was conniving in her own way but it seemed to him that she enjoyed his company and had no intention of leaving.

Castiel was eternally grateful to Meg. He practically owed her his life and if it just so happened to come to that, the angel would gladly give his last breath so she could breathe another. Everyday, he could clearly remember the days they spent in the hospital, in the garden, his favorite spot.

Castiel quietly plucked flowers from the ground and held them up to his nose, accepting their perfume-like scents. Meg followed further behind him, her eyes glued to some gossip magazine. He stride was lazy and unkempt as she did not look where she was going. She chuckled to herself at the public humiliation of celebrities she had seen rise and fall. Suddenly, she slammed right into Castiel as he had stopped walking.

"Jesus, Clarence..." Meg growled, picking up her magazine from the ground.

The angel bent down into the garden she did not know they turned into. There was a path flanked by tall hedges and at the very end was a gazebo with a few benches. There were other patients wandering the garden with their nurses, picking flowers and walking with their hands nervously in their pockets. She watched the angel stride along, his face looking towards the sky as though he thought his brethren would drop from it in a fury of light and storms, sweep him up, and take him home for some kind of punishment.

He bent down and plucked a daisy from the patch and turned to face Meg. He sheepishly handed it to her and the demon smiled. "Why thank you, Clarence." She accepted the gift and folded the magazine under her arm, twirling the fragile plant in between her fingers. They walked alongside each other, his arms swinging lazily by his side when his fingers brushed her own and he curled her fingers into his. He looked down at her and she smiled up at him, squinting in the sun. Her red lipstick shone perfectly and her hair caught the rays of light, shimmering softly.

She pulled him into the grass to sit and enjoy the weather that the angel wouldn't be able to enjoy for far too long. His tall frame seated next to her small one. Castiel looked up into the blue hue above him and watched another patient fly a kite in the breeze. A small smile traced his lips as it reminded him of his favorite corner of Heaven. The kite fluttered in the wind and his blue eyes watched it with undivided attention. It reminded him of simpler times... more so of home. A home that he missed dreadfully with all his heart. It was corrupt, yes, but it was also the most beautiful place he had ever beheld. There was certainly nowhere else like it and that made Castiel feel special. He was nothing more than a solider to his father but he had broken free of that and had become something that he never thought possible: Free.

Meg watched him gaze at the simple kite with such admiration and she knew he was thinking of home.

"You could go back you know... I know you would like that."

Castiel looked down at her and his eyes turned fearful. "No I... I couldn't possibly be accepted back. I killed..." She watched his movements flicker like an irritated cat, he was clammy at the very thought of what he had done. He had gotten ahead of himself when he took in the souls from Purgatory... he hadn't measured the dangers that were tacked on. It was a mistake that he wished he could take back because now he was useless. He was no help to the Winchesters or himself, such a waste of power.

But after that was said and done, Castiel realized that playing God was not for him. It was for his father only. What, if anything, did he think of his son? Did Castiel disgust him and that is why he was burdened with this madness? Or was his father proud and that is he why he resurrected him from the lake? Someone of a higher power must have had faith in poor Castiel otherwise he would have been dead long ago.

Meg touched her hand to his arm, his skin prickling to her very touch. "Come on..." She asked softly. "Lets get you back inside."

The angel complied and stood to his full height. He took one last look to the blue sky he wouldn't see for quite a long time.

XXXXX

It wasn't until Castiel could feel his eyes beginning to hold heavy did he realize that he was fallen. He was susceptible to dreadful feelings such as exhaustion, hunger, and guilt. Even when he was full of Grace, the angel was hard on himself. Unable to be like his brothers and sisters, Castiel was practically the runt of the litter even when angels were to be created equal. Others were stronger than him, beating him into his place. Up until now, he only understood the fact that he was weak compared to his siblings. After his death, resurrection, and newfound persona, Castiel began to believe that his father had it out for him. He believed in his son and that is why the angel could never die.

Because God wouldn't allow it.

A/N: I really, REALLY love writing this. Even if it conflicts with my real life and my responsibilities... fuck em! Haha no really though my own writing has punched me right in those Megstiel feels.