Chapter Summary: Seeing Castiel's plans as a type of leash and collar, Meg refuses to see his reasons. Kevin reveals what the last trial is to Dean and Sam, prompting them to turn to both the demon and angel for help. The Winchesters are slowly being pulled into the plans of God and Oblivion, unaware what it will cost if the Trials are completed.


In The Lethe

Part 7: Gravity (When Demons Align)

Castiel knew that he should be careful around Meg; there'd been something wrong the moment he'd arrived. He could feel it in the way she had tried to keep her hand from his but he'd taken her hand anyway to show her what he'd done. It had been a little naive, perhaps, to hope that she'd be glad to see him and to think that maybe she trusted him enough to follow him.

He was worried about her, enough that he ignored that feeling that maybe he should stop.

He was eager to see her reaction and was hoping for the best as he transported them fast to the tiny safe-house he'd found. The building was little more than an elaborate cabin, like Rufus', but cleaner and less rustic. It had been perfect. Hidden; just within the reach of civilization and just out of the reach of it to keep Meg and any strangeness from being noticed.

It had been sheer dumb luck after only hours of searching and he'd thanked his Father for letting him find it.

Keeping his hand through hers as she swayed on her feet, he steadied Meg and waited for her to notice the living room they had landed in. The entire house was warm and smelled of fresh paint and bleach, Linda Tran's meticulous housekeeping having cleansed it better than any holy water or spell. Castiel turned a slow circle as he waited for Meg to re-orientate herself and caught sight of the older woman nearby.

When Linda saw the wave of his hand, she quickly backed away into the kitchenette.

"Where are we?" Meg asked, trying to balance. Her head ached from going so fast and she had to blink and shake her head to get herself back to normal.

"Some place safe. I found it in the middle of nowhere really. But I'd thought of you immediately and of what we needed to do." Castiel walked towards the window to part the curtains, taking a quick glance at the quiet landscape.

Meg tried to follow him but found herself wedged in place by that claustrophobic feeling of a trap. Her feet snagged and she cursed, looking up at the devil's trap painted in white lines on the dark wood ceiling. Looking sheepish, Castiel quickly cracked the ceiling just a little.

"Sorry, it was to protect Mrs. Tran."

"She's here? That'll be fun."

"Mm, she helped me." Castiel looked at her almost eagerly and Meg had to look away.

She could almost feel the collar slipping around her neck now.

He noticed her expression as she took in the sitting room with its bright windows and bright paint, her eyes going up towards the loft overhang up the stairs. The small house was just warm enough to be comfortable against the cold mountain air and he couldn't feel anything but the stillness of the nearby woods. It was peaceful to be in such quiet and he waited to see if her expression changed.

Meg's face was utterly mask-like and tense and he recognized that look immediately. The very look she'd given him when she'd been angry at being yanked from Lethe.

"What's wrong? You don't like it?"

"Clarence, what have you done?"

"I wanted you safe. I really think you'll like this place. It's very warm and protected." He let the curtains fall back into place.

"So I'm stuck here. You built me a cage?"

"You've not even noticed that I..."

"Stop. Did you build me a cage?" she gritted out.

"I thought you'd like it." Castiel sounded offended and as she turned around she saw him looking equally put-out with her. "I did it for you."

"Like it? You're really bent on keeping me captive aren't you?"

"I simply thought you could do with more spacious surroundings. A home, not a hideout. When was the last time you had a home?" he asked, trying to wheedle her into a better mood.

"I'm a demon, Castiel. We don't need homes or cages. Or charity cases from angels with a conscience," she spat out as she started to pace. Her ears were ringing as her agitation grew, that annoying ping sound, with her eyes sliding to black and brown and then black again.

"You're angry with me." Castiel sighed and shook his head. "I put a lot of work in to this. So did Linda."

"Sorry if I don't bend over in appreciation." She ran her hand over the yellow-tinged walls, nose wrinkling, and she felt the spells that had been fused into the wood. "A fancy cage is still a cage. I'm not staying here."

She expected him to yell at her, not say softly, "… Why are you always so difficult?"

Castiel watched her, the urge to force her to sit and see what he'd done to protect her so strong that he had to grip the door frame to keep himself from shaking her. Even Dean wasn't this difficult most times.

"A gilded cage is still a cage," she muttered as she turned a slow circle. "Where are we?"

"Colorado. This place was abandoned during a fire but there's been nothing to destroy its integrity." He patted the frame as if to prove it to her but Meg was looking out the window again.

"Why are we here?"

"I had thought that- I wanted you safe. I did it for you."

"Safe or where you can keep an eye on me by trapping me?"

"Don't twist this!" His sharpness was so sudden that she jumped. "We don't have the option of discussing this. It is where you need to be. Where I need you to be."

"For how long?" Meg snorted and stared out the window. "Swear to Hell, only an angel builds a beautiful cage and calls it protection."

"I did it for you, Meg."

"No, featherbrain. You did it because the only other option you had was actually putting a chain on me."

He opened his mouth to argue but she was gone, teleporting out with the sort of power that sent him a step back. Almost shaking with his own anger, he glanced at the curtained off kitchen but Linda Tran was wisely keeping out of the way. He was on his own. As always.

Hadn't this been the right thing to do? Wouldn't it have kept her safe?

He slammed his palm against the wall and set off after her.


Meg had only managed to teleport herself to the tiny patio, contrary to what she had aimed for. Something snapped in the air, as if she'd reached the end of a rope, and kept her still. Her head still ached from the effort and she grabbed onto a tree to try to recover. When her blurred vision cleared, she was no more than a few feet away from the front porch in a tiny garden. The garden was half-dead with beds of dying flowers and rotted vines drooping over the trellis, and she had the urge to burn it all down. The mist and rain only made her anger worse and she tore one of the rusted iron hinges off the gate as she made her way down the path to the road.

The soft flutter of wings made her stomach turn.

"I wanted you safe." Castiel's voice behind her simply repeated his earlier words. Shaking her head, she suddenly wished she could have run further. But this place held her and even as she walked she could feel the way it pulled her to a standstill repeatedly the more she fought it.

"You built a cage, Castiel. I can feel it everywhere. It's one big trap. It pulls and it chokes."

"It's magicked heavily, yes, but not against you. For you. It is because you are angry that it isn't being forgiving to your... demonic nature." He came a few steps closer through the mists and she turned around, her boot heels grinding into the gravel. Her eyes kept slicking from black to brown, her agitation growing the longer he stared at her. Castiel looked like the lost angel he'd been in the hospital years ago and she stepped back when he went to touch her shoulder. "Why are you being difficult about this? I did it to keep you..."

"I'm not a possession."

He blinked. "I don't want to 'possess you'. I simply tried."

But there was no stopping her as she drew her own conclusions fast.

"I'm not some human you need to 'keep', remember? Free demon and all that crap." She stepped forward and he backed up a step when he felt the whip snap of darkness slice at him. "I don't want this. I don't want any of this, not your help or your pity, and I don't want you!"

Something flinched in his expression, a tiny tick at the corner of his mouth, that let her know she'd hit a mark.

"So run back to your Winchesters and let me do what I do best. Survive. On my own."

"I'm trying to help you. But you won't let me."

"The last time you helped me, I ended up dead. Then I ended up pulled away from something that would have let me just... die. Now? I'm about to be hunted by everything in existence! I am not interested in what you're planning, Castiel. That's all you angels do. Plan and scheme and..."

He grabbed her arm to keep her still when she tried to walk off. The grip was punishing and her eyes went to black immediately, warning him. Do you think I want to be part of this any more than you are? You are a demon and you won't take my help. You're hate-filled and angry and tortured and cruel, and still I've tried to help you."

She snarled. "Don't be such a human."

"I have tried to be understanding," he warned. "To do what I thought best but every time I think I know you, Meg, you change it around. I just wanted to help you."

"Help me? You can barely help yourself, cloud-hopper, let alone those pathetic wrecks you call your pets. I'm just the lowly demon you lost yourself in a few times and knocked up. That is nothing compared to your righteous man and his cursed brother, remember? I am nothing!"

He let her go as if repelled by the hate in her voice. But who it was directed at wasn't clear and he felt some of his own anger evaporate the more he stared at her and started to understand.

"You're wrong."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't paint me with some humanistic crap, Castiel, you won't like how it turns out."

"If it keeps you safe, until we can figure out another way..."

"You're trying to manipulate me," she said.

"I wouldn't. I lo..." Stopping himself from saying what he wanted, he looked away and sighed. "Nevermind. I had wanted to help but you've turned it into something far more than I meant."

"Call it a reflex." Meg started down the garden path towards the road but he blinked in front of her.

"I'm asking you to stay here, for now."

"Why? What is so special about this place that you think I'll want to stay here? Watched over by some guard dog you conned?"

"Because I'm asking you to. Because I know you are frightened and you won't tell me why."

Meg crossed her arms over her chest and he reached out, fingers just grazing her elbow before she jerked it away.

"Please. Just for now. Until I can..."

"I'm leaving in three days," she warned. "I need to get my strength, yeah, but after that me and whatever is in me are splitsville."

He opened his mouth to argue, to order her to stay, when he felt that prickle up his spine. Someone was praying to him.

Cas? Its Dean. We've got some big news. So drop whatever or whoever you're doin' and get back to the bunker. We need you.

Meg had watched his expression change around and something in her shuttered up even further. He only looked at her, hesitating, but she looked away.

"I'll be back."

"Oh I'm sure I'll be ready."

Something in her cold tone and the way she stood should have warned him but he ignored it, going to those who might appreciate his help.


Death wandered the abandoned park, feeling the power prickling around him like ice being poured over skin. The town all around him was collapsing, falling into a pit of nothingness, but because of his presence this place was still present. It gave him some semblance of relief that his power could deflect that anger seething through the midwest.

"Sheol?" he asked as he came to the edge of a small pond, watching a nearby swing-set slowly being pushed back and forth by a breeze.

As if summoned, she appeared in front of him. Beautiful though her impossibly sad and gentle eyes were now taking on a more deadly light. "Brother."

"What have you done?" he gestured around with his silver tipped cane. "This place, these people, were not slated to die for some years, preferably when that massive tornado was to come through."

She gave him a steady look. "I merely need satiation. You don't mind?"

Death regarded her gravely. "Do not harm those who have nothing to do with your hate."

"I don't hate. I am merely tired. And upset. They are at peace." She turned away and Death stared at the back of her auburn head.

"You've lost her, haven't you? To the angel."

Sheol stiffened and turned around. "Why would you suggest that?"

"He's all but hidden her from the world though I know we both can feel her. But touching her? That may be difficult. For us both."

"He has trapped her and my demon is too proud, too strong, to allow it." Sheol's expression was calm and calculating, and he watched her warily. "Besides, I already know what it is going to happen and who will play their part."

He tapped his cane on the ground. "What are you going to do?"

"If he's done playing by the rules than so am I. I think it is time I use his favourite pawns for a change." She turned and walked over the pond, pale bare feet making no ripples as she walked across the water. "Be sure to leave before I collapse this place completely, would you? I would hate to hurt you."


There was a strange light in Kevin's eyes that hadn't faded for the past hour and it made Dean uncomfortable. Sam was too sick and tired to care but his brother saw it. The prophet was nearly fanatical that he knew the last trial by heart, that he was sure it would work. He had spoken so fast that Dean had only managed to get a quick prayer into Castiel before he was overcome by Kevin grabbing and shaking him. For a small little thing, he packed a punch when he chose.

"Do you get it, Dean? It's the last trial! We can close the gates of Hell! We'll all be free!" the prophet nearly shouted and Dean winced as he was shaken again. Kevin's hands nearly tore into his shirt in his eagerness to get his point across.

"Yeah, I get that, kid, but ease up on my nipples will you? They're don't like being stretched out." He brushed him off and looked at Sam, who was reading over Kevin's scrawls at the table. "Sam?"

"Seems all in order. Makes sense even, when you think about it. I mean, the Hell trials should have something to do with demons."

"Of course it's in order. I already told you!" Kevin dropped into the chair across from Sam. "It's simple!"

"Ah, nothing is that simple, we've learned that. We're not stupid."

Sam cleared his throat, voice sounding hoarse from too much coughing. "According to Kevin's interpretation, all we need to do is cure a demon and that runs parallel to sacrificing a cause. Essentially, a demon sacrificing what makes them a demon."

"That's annoyingly cryptic." Dean sighed and gave Sam a look. "Cure a demon?"

"Yep."

"Sounds too easy."

His brother shrugged. "Well, sort of. How the hell do we do that?"

"Salt?"

Kevin rolled his eyes and Sam sighed. "No, not cure as in preserve, cure as in alleviate a symptom."

"What symptom?"

"Their demonness, I guess. Make them mortal." Kevin flipped his notes over and then jumped when he realized Castiel was standing by his chair. "Jesus, Cas!"

"Not exactly." But the angel was already staring at the notes. "Demons are not exactly suffering from a symptom. It is an integral part of their being. They never could be totally cured once they made the transition."

"How long have you been there?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"I only just arrived but I saw the notes. This is the last trial?" He picked up the pile of papers. "Cure a demon to sacrifice a cause. Technically that is two trials in one."

"God's loophole I guess, make sure we're real devout." Dean eyed him. "Where've you been?"

"I've been trying to help Meg. It isn't exactly going to plan." Castiel didn't notice the look the brothers gave each other.

Kevin grabbed his notes from the angel. "It's right! I know it is. I can see it all now perfectly. We need to cure a demon. There's just no real way of knowing how to do it."

Castiel narrowed his eyes just a little at Kevin's strange eagerness. "I wasn't doubting you; it has just never been done to my knowledge. So. Where do we go from here? I assume you want my help in procuring what you need. Ingredients, demons to act as examples."

"Crossed my mind you could catch us one of Crowley's men," Dean snapped. "If you're not too busy."

Kevin sighed heavily and they all looked at him.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, lazily lifting his head from where it rested on his hands.

"You guys don't get it! The last trial is to cure a demon. We have one. Meg. She'd be perfect."

The Winchesters looked at one another before Dean shrugged and went to the nearby bar fridge. "Kid's got a point," he said over his shoulder.

"Advanced placement," Kevin said smugly.

But Sam was watching Castiel's expression. Something crossed over his face before the angel could stop it and he licked his own chapped lips before finding his voice. "Cas? Do you think Meg would... do this?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't hold out hope to her being agreeable."

"Thought you two were tight," Dean drawled as he handed Kevin a beer to celebrate. "Her being pregnant and all."

"You can assume that my being the father of her child would mean anything to her but it doesn't. She's being exceptionally difficult right now." Castiel exhaled sharply. "And we don't know what this trial involves, do we?"

"Going to research it out."

"I won't risk her life," Castiel snapped at Dean. The hunter blinked in surprise.

Kevin and Sam glanced at each other, wondering what was wrong.

"I wasn't saying that."

Sam cleared his throat. "Cas, we don't even know what the trial involves. But if we can at least get Meg interested... half our battle is done. Maybe you can appeal to her maternal instinct or something. Could mean that whatever you two created, loses its demonness too and be born normal."

The angel shook his head.

Kevin fidgeted as if he wanted to tell them but just as fast as he thought he knew the answer it was gone.

Castiel gave them a defeated look. "I'll ask."

He was gone before they could stop him and Dean gave Sam a puzzled look.

"Get the feeling he really doesn't want her involved?"

"Yeah I got that."


Chuck jogged the papers up and down to get them in order, thumbing the papers curiously. They were still warm from the printer and with a happy smile he hugged them to his chest before he flopped down on the couch. Closing his eyes, he sighed and lifted the first sheet up.

A slight movement to his left made him nearly leap off the couch. The man perched on the armchair sighed.

"Son of a bitch!"

"Not quite." Death set his bag down. "You've been very busy, I see."

Chuck scooted back down on the couch. "Very. Too busy for hallucinations."

"So I can imagine." Thin fingers reached out and plucked a page from his grip. Death turned it over and gave it a disgusted look. "Creation. So very messy."

"What do you want?"

"Mostly to alert you to the fact that you have a very, very angry entity on your hand."

"Yeah." Chuck tossed the pages in a stack on the floor and put his arm over his eyes, making a show of getting comfortable. "You've been telling me that."

Death turned the page around in his hand, and the red line underlining Meg's name made it clear he saw what Chuck was doing. "This is how you plan on stopping her? Using her own connections?"

"Well, she can't die and she can't be reasoned with so…." Chuck shrugged but didn't remove his arm. "She's Oblivion, right? She's too powerful to kill. What is she? Billions of years old?"

"Older. Older than I even. And far more powerful. You do not wish to cross her. She was well within her rights to take control of the situation."

"So I'm changing the game plan."

"This absurd idea of controlling her. How does it even work?" Death shook his head and Chuck finally looked at him, an almost devilish grin on his face.

"I've got you interested. Its sort of an interesting story. If you could picture a beautiful mirror being split into shards so that it's influence is fractional..."

Death rolled his eyes and stood, imposing as a vulture. "Don't be stupid. I see no good end to this. All this takes is one misstep, from any side. The demon's offspring may or may not be the end to us. The angel might slip up and be manipulated by his own brethren. The demon may die. But most of it rides on the humans. How utterly stupid to place faith in such creatures that are below us."

"You're scared of her." Chuck rolled his shoulders and faked a snore. "I'm not."

"You should be, brother. You should be." Death dusted off his coat shoulders. "However, I am thinking that you are a lost cause in this. Blinded by pride and your past rejection. You're a child with an ant farm. So I shall simply have to find someone else who will take this threat far more seriously."

When Chuck removed his arm, Death was gone, the pages with him.


Dean sighed and rubbed at his jaw as he searched through the storage rooms. Something in here had to be of use. After a day at the books, Sam was too exhausted to help him and Kevin was too busy going on some prophet tangent. He'd come here for peace and quiet. He needed to collect his thoughts and think this through, but with each box he went through, the less it helped.

Would it just be simpler to take one for the team and insist that someone chain Meg down? Force her to the trial?

No. For all she'd done, she meant something to Castiel and Dean wasn't about to hurt him for that. Grudgingly, he admitted that he had owed her for saving Sam as well.

Pulling out another folder, Dean sat down against a wall and put his head in his hands.

What if he lost Sam because he was choosing to trust in Castiel and, to a lesser extent, Meg?

What if all of this was lost?

All you need to do is solve a trial. It's easy. Let me show you where you can do it.

He choked back the urge to shout a curse at the walls and thumped his head back on the wall. He was hearing voices. Perfect.

Almost immediately, the wall he'd hit himself against pressed back, and he fell back through the false wall hidden by fake brick. Shouting, he rolled to his feet only to find himself just a few feet down. Rubbing at the back of his now sore head, Dean stood up and watched as the wall fully swung open.

"Oh this is just too awesome," he muttered under his breath and he let the light pour in from the hallway.

An old room, hollowed out with bars running over the cement walls, had been hidden behind the storage closets.

The place inside smelled of must and old sulphur, chains dangling from the ceiling and large devil's traps drawn all over the room. Dean stared in absurd wonder at it. He ran his hand over the ash marks that ran over the walls, as if something incredibly hot had burned its imprint onto the concrete.

"Son of a bitch. Jackpot."

The chill in the air made the smell a little less intense once the door was open. Chains, racks, medicinal tables, things that almost reminded him of Alastair. It was like a treasure trove for that darker part of him, the part that still remembered his time in Hell when he'd been broken. When he'd sliced into souls to save himself.

Dean turned away from the chains and looked at the table where blood rusted tools and vials still sat. When he picked up one wicked double-sided blade, it felt oddly hot and he tested the edge to find it still sharp. Tucking the knife into his belt, he knelt down under the table to check through a wood box.

All that was in it was a film reel was left over inside a broken camera, and old, and when he picked it up he saw '66 EX' written on its worn label. The sealed room had preserved it. Whatever had happened here might have been recorded.

"Definite jackpot."

"This place is cold," Castiel said suddenly, causing the hunter to whack his head on the underside of the table.

"Jesus, Cas!"

The angel was standing at the entrance to the makeshift panic room, looking just as perplexed as when he'd left.

"While I admire the comparison, I don't quite understand why that's the second one I've received lately."

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's an expression. Where'd you come from?"

Castiel waved his hand in the air. "Well..."

"Nevermind. You weren't gone long."

"No." Castiel stepped into the dungeon. "This place is uncomfortable. You can just feel the pain that happened within the walls."

"No better place for demons I'd say," Dean muttered, pointing out the embossed chains and painted ceilings. "I know I'd be shaking in my boots."

The angel didn't respond and he decided to cut to the chase.

"You got news? Come on, Cas, what'd she say?"

The hesitation wasn't what Dean had expected. Castiel actually looked embarrassed.

"She won't speak to me. After you asked me, I stopped where I last saw her." Castiel seemed shifty and Dean wondered what he was hiding. "She used a banishing sigil, which I didn't even know she could use, and I ended up in Morocco."

Unable to help himself, Dean started to laugh and quickly cut it short when he saw Castiel's face. "Oh well. Any idea why she'd do that?"

"I may have overestimated my importance in her decisions."

"In non-cryptic English, please?" Dean asked patiently. "Come on, Cas, you got to keep me in the loop here. Especially about Meg and her little hellspawn."

He took a breath. "I found her a safe house. I used wards and everything I could think of to keep her safe; all of it designed to take care of her. And she took it rather hard. Some of her accusations..."

Dean blinked. "She thinks you trapped her?" At his friend's startled look he shrugged. "Come on, you angels pulled that green room crap on me and told me it was for my own good. Weird but I get where she's coming from."

"This is for her own good. But despite my attempts to convince her, she's angry." He shook his head and began to pace, a habit he'd picked up from her. "All I said was "Hello Meg" and then I woke up halfway across the world."

"Maybe let her calm down a bit. Have you tried apologizing?"

"Why would I do that? I'm not in the wrong."

"Little bit yeah." Dean shook his head. "Just… apologize so we can get this show on the road."

"That would be a lie. I'm not sorry for wanting to protect her."

"Then figure something out. I remember one time I went out while I was with Lisa and she hollered at me for a good hour for not leaving her a message. She was worried and I apologized though hell if I know what I was apologizing for." Dean gave a wistful grin at the thought of Lisa. "Sometimes you have to suck it up, Castiel."

"That seems dishonest."

"Not if you figure out that maybe she was right."

Castiel exhaled sharply. "I would have no idea where to start."

"I don't know. She's a demon but maybe just ask. I used to just take Lisa out for a bite and somehow it all worked out but that won't help you." Dean kicked the box to the side. "Got a few hours? I need to find some books to give us even a hint of where to start and you can zip around faster than I can. I want to see if I can repair this film so I can see what's on it."


Sam groaned as he rolled onto his back, trying to ease the ache in his muscles. Despite what Dean thought, he never really slept. He could lie for eight hours, staring at the ceiling, and not fall asleep. There was power radiating within him, something strange and wonderful and terrifying. Whenever he lifted his hands up in the air, he could have sworn he saw glittering light echoing his movements.

"Must be what being on acid is like," he muttered before rolling over onto his stomach to check the time. His brain was begging him to sleep and parts of him felt numb.

"What if I die doing this?"

Burying his head in the pillow, he wondered if that would be such a bad thing.

Something brushed through his hair, like a gentle hand soothing him, and he sighed, closing his eyes.


It was boredom that sent her wandering around the property. She found all of Castiel's wards he'd created, the spells almost sewn into the very perimeter. With every attempt, she knew she couldn't break them but it didn't stop her from trying. The property had been dead for so long that grass was only just now starting to grow in patches and she found the whole thing depressing.

Which, for a demon, was saying something.

Linda Tran was somewhere in the house, hiding out from her likely. Since Meg had banished Castiel in a pretty impressive display of light, the elder Tran had stayed out of her way. Not that the demon cared. She'd almost trashed the living room in her frustration and after the second day had ticked by even pacing did her no good. She stayed in the living room and the dead garden, trying to use what power she had to summon someone who could help her.

But the only people who would come to any call she made were the ones she didn't want.

Why the hell had he brought her here?

The stocked kitchen gave her only a little wiggle room in her anger and she'd raided it as best as she could. She hadn't been lying when she'd told the Winchesters being a demon burned off most of the calories but no amount of sugar or food did as good a job as alcohol.

And damn it if there wasn't a drop in the house. He knew her better than she'd thought.

Stalking around the house, Meg felt more and more caged the longer she stayed still. She hadn't been up into the loft overhead yet either, not liking the feeling she had that if she did she might get stuck up there.

Eventually, she gave in to her own curiosity when there was nothing else she could do. Meg climbed the stairs, trailing her fingers up the walls. It seemed like the deeper she went into the house, the stronger the wards became and her own power was angrily trying to push back. Until she finally came to a closed door and she was nearly propelled backwards when she opened the door.

Meg sucked in a breath she didn't know she needed as she stepped into the room.

What had her cloudhopper done?

A small room, warm and bright yellow, was what remained in the very back of the house. High windows gave it a glow from the rising moon, and she leaned against the wall after flipping the switch. Even though the light wasn't strong, it let her see that the room was rearranged into a makeshift nursery. Old antique furniture had been dusted off and put to rights and she stared around the room.

"Oh damn," she whispered as she ran her hand over the wall and felt the wards just under the paint. The protection here was incredible, the power radiating off from the walls almost repelling her but then accepting her just as quickly. It almost felt like Lethe within these walls; it was protective and comforting.

It was familiar.

He'd done it for her.

Some foreign and uncomfortable emotion made her stomach curl with heat.

"He was pretty intense about this," Linda's voice intruded on her and Meg flinched as the woman slipped into the room behind her. "I never thought angels could be excited by these things. It was like it gave him a purpose. Though you should thank me; he had some strange colours in mind."

"Why did he do this?" Meg muttered, barely listening to her.

"What any father would do." Linda started to fix the shelves that were still being put up. "Not going to lie; I was a little less than enthused."

Meg didn't answer as her fingers felt another ward; this one she didn't know but it was larger than the others.

"You know, I was terrified when Kevin was coming because I was on my own and had met his father on a writing tour, so he wasn't around, and I..."

"Sorry, I don't do the chick thing. No chit chat or bonding moments."

"I get it. Big tough demon, right?" Linda rolled her eyes. "That doesn't scare me."

Meg smirked at the walls, not minding her bravado. It would be a little too easy to snap her neck but hiding from Castiel would be hard if she killed someone he liked.

"Why won't you let him help you?"

The demon shrugged.

"You find a cause and you serve it. I'm not a cause, not a worthy cause. I - when he looks at me, the way he looks at me, he sees something intangibly good and that - that isn't -" Meg felt herself shudder because it was true. Castiel looked at her differently than anyone else had. Someone who was her enemy had been kinder to her than even her own leaders she'd devoted herself to.

"Who you think you are?"

Meg whirled and clamped her hand over Linda's throat, hauling her close before pinning her to the wall. Her eyes went black and she bared her teeth.

"I'm a demon, human. Do you know what that means? Hell is my home. I am far older than anyone knows, and in that time, spent years in the pit, years of torture and doing what I do best. I don't remember what being human was like. He doesn't understand that. And neither do you."

Dark eyes narrowed right back at her to let her know that she hadn't intimidated the tiny woman at all. "You think you scare me?" Linda laughed around the tight hold on her throat. "I've had demons in my head, torturing me and threatening my son. If you were like them, you'd be killing me by now. You haven't yet."

Meg let her go with a disgusted sigh.

Linda rubbed at her throat.

"It's strange. If you were as unaffected by him as you claimed, wouldn't you be using his devotion as leverage, instead of trying to push him away?" She settled her arms over her chest and slowly walked from the room. Before she closed the door, she gave the room a once over. "Like it or not, you're going to have to get used to being what you really are. Whatever that is."

She slammed the door and Meg rolled her eyes, making a face. Humans always tried to normalize what they didn't know. Normal life?Impossible for demons. Whatever was inside of her wouldn't get that either.

The kid would be lucky if she lived a day.

Her daughter. The fairy had said it was a girl.

"She is unusual. But then, so are you and so is the father. Aren't you?"

Castiel must know she was having a girl. She'd seen the signs around the room. The neutral paint was bright and yet there'd been small decorative things that had been done, either by him or by that human, to the furniture and the bedding. How he knew when he'd said he couldn't feel her wasn't clear. Maybe he'd tricked her or something.

What the hell was he doing to her?

All that stupid human crap wasn't going to happen. No stupid human ideals behind it, no cuteness, no silly hopes and dreams. Those had been left behind long long ago. She'd get it out and then be on her merry way, a regular old mockingbird leaving her young to get raised by someone else.

Except as her hand tightened on her stomach and felt the throb of power there, she knew that that wasn't going to happen. Whatever protective instinct she had told her that because her life was so connected to this child's. They were all so entwined together that it was impossible to get free.

She slowly sat down on the floor, leaning against a toy box, and brought her knees up to her chest. Reaching out, she fished a stuffed toy out of the box and debated on destroying it just for kicks. Damn thing would deserve it.

The stuffed unicorn seemed harmless but what it meant made her drop it to the floor and put her head in her hands. No one but her and Sam Winchester would know what that meant. Even she didn't like what it could mean.

What the hell was wrong with her?

If she left, she'd be fighting for her life. On her own. And this time bogged down by something she knew she'd not be able to get rid of. Crowley would find her, that she had no doubt about, and those hallucinations of Sheol would just grow until she went mad and burned herself.

Whether it was the angel or the unborn girl inside of her, either way she wasn't going to escape.

Like it or not, she thought with a wry smile, Castiel had a point.

He could help her.

He'd built this all to help her.

Unlike anyone she'd met before, he actually wanted to help her.

Meg pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked around. Whatever it was...

"No. Her, this will be her room. She's real. This is real." She shook her head, leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. "This is real."


It was like being pulled from underwater, the slow and steady tug that woke him up. His first blissfully deep sleep in weeks and someone wanted him awake. Sam buried his face deeper in the pillow and reached out to grab another to put over his head.

Until he felt soft fingers stroking his hair, combing through the long strands gently.

"I'm dreaming," he whispered. His eyes felt heavy and he sighed.

"Yes," a woman murmured.

"Jess?"

The fingers stilled but then renewed the petting. "No, Sam Winchester. I'm just a dream. You still miss her though, don't you?"

No harm talking to a dream; not when his sore muscles kept him so lethargic he could die in her arms and be happy. "I do. Everyday."

"Mm. It is hard to love and watch things fall apart. And you love your brother so very much."

The hypnotic lull in her voice drained him further.

"Wouldn't you do anything for him?"


Meg's eyes grew heavy as she sat in the moon-lit nursery. "I don't need to sleep," she muttered just as she nodded off.


Sam felt a strange twist in his heart at the mention of Dean. "Yes. Anything. He's my big brother."

"Such loyalty." The fingers in his hair slid over his face. "Wouldn't you like to know peace, both you and your brother? A chance for utter peace."

He gave a drugged chuckle. "We're hunters. That never happens."

"It will. Once you finish the trials."


Meg sat up straight against the wall and blinked, confused as to what she was seeing. The nursery was gone and in its place was a dark little room with only a bed and a desk. Sam Winchester was lying there, cradled in a woman's embrace.

Sheol blinked at Meg, aware of her but not stopping.

"You can save the world," she murmured in Sam's ear. "Just by staying loyal to what you are meant to do."

The feel of that loving but powerful gaze nearly burned into the demon.

"All of you."


Gasping out a cry, Meg woke out of her trance. She was cramped and uncomfortable. Sore from the strange position, she yawned and struggled to open her eyes. When she managed to focus, it was to find Castiel standing over her, partially hidden in the shadows.

"That looks awkward."

Meg cracked her neck, that absurd dream already fading fast. "Tell me about it."

He nervously held his hands out to the side. "Please don't banish me again. I was hoping we could talk. It is the third day. Technically."

Picking herself up gracefully, Meg eyed him and tossed the stuffed unicorn back in the box. "About what? Or are you just here to pay the electric bill?" she drawled.

"We've had a misunderstanding and I want us to be back to how we were. To give us some normalcy."

"Normal?" Meg choked on the word. "We've never been normal, Clarence, remember?" She swished her hand over her face and wiggled her fingers. "Me demon, remember? You angel."

She poked him in the chest and he frowned. "Stop that." He rubbed at the spot she'd poked. "I took Ms. Tran back to Garth for now. I had the feeling you didn't really want her company."

"She's not the worst one you could have lent me. You could have left me with Dean." Her eyes rolled. "Ugh. Then I'd be back to suicidal."

He gave her a look and then gestured at the room. "Did you hate it so much?"

"No." Immediately she back tracked. "It's okay, I mean."

He smiled to himself before holding out his hand. "Do you mind if we leave for a while?"

"Why?"

"I thought you were going to leave anyway," he countered smugly and Meg squinted up at him.

"Don't get cute. Where are we going?"

"Are you hungry?"


Sitting on a park bench, Death stared at the Heaven of a man who had died only yesterday, watching the reunions of family and friends. He didn't really see the point. The punishment and reward system God had put into place hadn't really helped in the first place. Humans still misbehaved atrociously and all for the silliest of reasons.

He picked another chip out of the bag and popped it into his mouth, savouring the bite of the flavour.

"I was told you were here. Looking for me."

He looked around slowly to see Naomi. Immaculate, cool and fierce; the perfect angel.

"Ah yes." He patted the bench. "Please sit."

"I'd rather stand." The angel was edgy, staring at him as if he was about to Reap her.

"I am not here to cause any problems but merely to alert you to something you should know."

"I haven't seen you here in centuries. You hate Heaven as much as you hate Hell."

"I don't hate either. I am merely indifferent to them," Death tapped his cane on the soft grass. "I am going to tell you eight words. Then I will be gone to serve my purpose."

Naomi fidgeted. "Eight words?"

"Yes. Very simple ones." He looked up at her blue eyes. "Remember what God ordered the angels to do."

"What he-?" Before she could finish, Death was gone, leaving a bewildered angel behind.


"Welcome to Elysium Pizza. What do you want?" the bored waitress demanded. Still bewildered by the abrupt change in scenery and the fact that girl wasn't worried about their sudden arrival, Meg stared around the restaurant.

Castiel cleared his throat and smiled at the girl. "Medium. All meat. Protein levels you know; very necessary for growth."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Gotcha, it'll be right up."

"Nice service. I could almost go for some tequila to deal with how happy she was," Meg muttered and she saw Castiel watching her. He looked almost too large for the narrow booth they were sitting in. "So. Want to explain the place? I mean, we already moved furniture around, no need to get the pizza."

Grunting, he shuffled in his seat, trying to get comfortable, and she watched.

"Is it the wings that make it hard for you to sit normal?"

"The what?" He was startled by the change in conversation and she gestured at his shifting. Shrugging his shoulders back, he tried to look insulted. "After how many thousands of years, you honestly think I can't maneuver wings, corporeal or not?"

She bit back a grin. "Touché. Why are we here?"

"I need to speak to you and I thought this would be a neutral ground to start."

Meg blinked and looked around the old pizza parlour. "Cute. I almost got the feeling you were taking me on a date, hot wings."

"That wasn't completely my intention."

Her eyes snapped back to him. "Completely?"

"No." Oblivious to his own meaning and her stunned look, he sighed and rubbed his hands together. "I wanted to apologize. I am still very used to doing as I see best."

Meg blinked. Angels did not apologize as a rule to demons. Ever.

The last time he'd done so was when he realized he'd pulled her away from Lethe.

"And in this? I wanted you safe but I was wrong to simply drop you there when I had known how unhappy you were that we didn't even trust you in the bunker most days. I hadn't meant this as some sort of push to trap you. I was worried and following what I thought had to happen. It won't happen again."

"Fine."

He jerked his head up to look at her. "What?"

Meg shrugged. "You're pretty much saying I'm free to go as I please? No leash?"

The demon could tell it was costing him a lot to nod. "Yes."

"Good. Because if you ever do that again and don't tell me what is going on, I'm going to make you wish you chose a female vessel, you got me?" she warned but this time there was no real heat behind the words.

"You're threatening me so that means..." Castiel could only stare at her with a little bit of awe. "Are you forgiving me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Warning you."

"You are forgiving me." He relaxed. "I can't believe that Dean was right."

Meg gave him a puzzled look. "What?"

The arrival of the pizza saved him in time and he smiled happily at the girl who had brought it out. "Thank you so much."

"Yeah, no problem." She looked a little creeped out by his relief and Meg shook her head once she left.

"So what exactly did you want?"

"I wanted to ask you for your help. But you need food first then we can visit the Winchesters."

"Is this your way of nesting with me, Clarence?" She eyed him and the pizza warily. "You're buying me dinner? What's next? Bottle of warm milk and a blanket? Snuggles with Castiel?"

"Hardly. You'd destroy the bottle and then smother me with the blanket if I tried." He looked up from his slicing of the pizza, putting a piece on the plate before her. "Am I right?"

"Scarily accurate," she admitted.

"I just hate to eat alone. It looks ridiculous when an angel does it considering I don't need to. I imagine it was how you felt before you became, as you said, 'knocked up'."

Instead of being insulted, she actually smiled a little without meaning to. "You know, I was wrong. You're actually a little cute when you're trying to put up instead of shutting up."

He simply stared back at her until she started to eat.


Both Winchesters jumped when the alarm system went off, blaring so loud that Dean nearly toppled over one of the second level shelves. Sam looked up from the table to see Meg and Castiel walking overhead on the grated catwalk. Shaking his head, he rolled his chair over to the computer to disable the alarm.

"You fly like an old lady," Meg muttered. "I'm sure Dean in that hunk of junk could have driven faster."

Castiel squinted at her. "You're mocking me."

"Gold star, pretty boy. Took you only ten seconds this time to figure that out."

"Flight isn't exactly how you clearly perceive it. I have to navigate over several obstacles and focus my intent into a dimensional gap," he started and she turned, clamping a hand over his mouth.

"Let me make fun of you in peace."

He gave her an impressive glare that only made her smirk.

"There's the… whatever you two are," Dean said as he joined them. He eyed Meg before turning to the angel. "Did you ask her yet?"

"No." Castiel cleared his throat and walked ahead of them. "I wanted to bring her here to show her some of what we've found. So she could understand."

Dean fell into step beside Meg before loudly asking, "How's the fairy dust?"

"The what?" Castiel swivelled on his heel to look at Meg who was glaring at Dean.

"Fairy dust."

"You are dead, Winchester. First up on my rack."

He merely grinned.

"Meg? What is he talking about?" the angel demanded, waving Dean away. She rolled her eyes.

"You weren't around. I needed answers so I called an expert on babies. Dumb and Dumber helped."

"A fairy. You trusted a fairy but you wouldn't trust me," he said, stalking towards her. Tiny as she was, she simply jutted her chin out and glared at him though she took a single step back into the railing.

"You took off to find answers and you still haven't told me if you found any. Just planted me in the middle of nowhere, remember?" she snapped back. Castiel stared down his nose at her and she smirked. "Remember?"

"You wouldn't trust me but you trusted some fae?"

Looking up from below, Sam saw Dean's gestures to come help and shrugged. Meg and Dean were on their own.

"I never said I trusted her. I need to know what the hell was going on with me!"

"You could have called for me."

"You only show up for Winchesters anyway."

"I thought we were through arguing," Castiel snapped. "I swear you are doing this deliberately."

"Okay, unresolved sexual tension fetishists, referee coming through." Dean cut between them. "Come on, Cas. It was just a fairy and you know Meg is just trying to get you angry."

"Did you let a fairy touch you?" Castiel demanded, ignoring him.

"And give her a value on the little bundle of blasphemy," Dean offered helpfully and Meg shot him another 'you're dead' look. Castiel's intake of breath was sharp.

"You put a price on our child?"

If he could have actual feathers they would have bristled.

Meg was too dumbfounded that he had actually put the possessive to both of them. Their child? "No. What the fairy told me was there was no price I could put on her. Why would I?"

He deflated just a little.

"So it is a girl."

"Yeah."

Dean actually found himself getting uncomfortable as the pair stared everywhere but at each other. "You know what? I'm just going to go... do some reading. Feel free to look for something helpful. Or do something helpful."

Castiel waited for him to be down the stairs before he looked at Meg again. "A girl."

"Far as she knew. Fairies are earth magic so she could be wrong. I don't like them much but I needed to see if someone could find out what," she pointed at her stomach, "this all means."

"And?"

"Not much of an answer. She was cryptic as every goddamn fairy is." Meg shrugged her shoulders as if to forget it but Castiel was looking at her strangely. She walked off and abruptly changed the subject. "So why did you bring me back to Plaidville?"

He started to walk beside her through the archives, keeping an eye on her. She caught him staring once or twice, felt his hand brush her side but she kept moving.

"It is about the trials to close the Gates. They only have one left."

"Oh?" She ran her hand over a dusty shelf and followed him down into a storage room. Castiel ran his own hands over the walls, searching for something. Meg watched his face. It was hard to count how many times she could see that he was straining against the confines of his own vessel. Vaguely she wondered if he saw the same thing when he looked at her.

The wall suddenly swung open with a bang and he stood to one side. "I wanted to show you this as I have a feeling it would be involved."

Meg walked by him and felt a cold thrill of dreadful fascination go up her spine when she saw what she'd walked into.

If the house in Colorado had felt like a protective embrace, this place felt like a stranglehold ready to rip her to pieces. Unlike the humans, she could see the walls vibrating with dark magic and smell years of old blood still reeking from its otherwise clean surface. The chains, the hooks and tethers, the racks...

"Alastair would have been in heaven," she muttered. Castiel searched for and found a small gaslight, setting it on fire and putting it on the wall.

"I didn't like this place," he said. "But I thought you should see it. To know..."

"What? That I could have spent a few nights in here?" she asked dryly.

"The last trial is to cure a demon," Castiel finished as he stood behind her. The sight of the chains sent a chill up his own skin. "And you are the only one they know who won't rip their throats out."

"Don't be so sure about that." Meg touched a chain and wrinkled her nose when it singed her fingers. His words suddenly sunk in sharp as a knife. "Wait what?"

"The last trial is to cure a demon."

"And you thought of me?" She walked in a small circle but he could see her tension in every move she made. "Can't say I'm flattered."

"No. Kevin thought of you. They asked me if I would ask but I had been considering alternatives." He leaned against one of the pillars. Meg looked over her shoulder at him, dirty blonde hair spilling over her back as she picked up a knife.

"And those are?" He looked away and she nodded. "Right. There are none."

She stepped away from the wall and looked around the room. "It's never been done before. I remember Abaddon at one time telling me how the humans and angels tried to think of ways to cure demons. Trust me, she was one gloriously bad ass demon with a world of old knowledge."

Meg ran a finger over the dusty railing. "Though why I'm not sure anyone would want to cure my kind."

"Maybe they had faith that demons could be saved."

The look she shot him was anything but agreeable. "Come on, Clarence. I had over the max. limit of torture over the centuries. There's little I have or haven't done to get my way. And you think I can be saved?"

"You don't think you deserve it?" He casually crossed his arms over his chest. "It would be your decision and I can't force you to it. "

"Yeah because that's happened so far." She tilted her head. "You want my consent." Her eyes went black and she fixed him with a grin. "How nice."

Castiel didn't rise to the bait. "Meg, if you could repent and be cured, would you?"

She smiled, almost wistfully. "That's the problem, Cas. I've lived too long for a simple cure to make me repentant to the core. You know that pain you think I live with? The guilt you all seem to think a demon should have? I don't really have it. Never have. I am what I am. Dealing with the sudden human conscience, a clean soul, wouldn't help."

"You would be pure."

"I wouldn't be me. I'd be a shadow. And you know that." She stared at him and after a moment, he nodded.

"I know. It is why I didn't suggest you. Why I wanted to ask." He looked at his shoes. "I didn't want to force you to a decision. This is yours."

She debated on it. An instant way to say fuck you to Crowley. To get it all done with. She'd laugh all the way to victory.

But something about it made her not want to risk it. There was a strange wrongness about it.

Her hand slipped to her stomach and Castiel watched, catching the absent touch.

"And I don't want to risk her either. Not for this."

Meg shook her head.

"I can't. Even if I wasn't carrying the kidney bean around it's against everything I would do. It's not who I am, to just let the Winchesters pour salt in the wounds. Literally."

"Very well." He moved away from the wall towards her and Meg gave him a confused frown.

"Sure you don't want to push it. Get a shiny new girl to handle, all sweet and innocent? Cutesy and all wishwashy about living the good life? Being a pansy and screaming about how I deserve to be loved?" She was being sarcastic but Castiel shook his head.

"I would want you to be as you are. Thorns and all. Everything. I never wanted you any different."

Meg blinked in surprise. Not only that he wasn't going to push but that he seemed relieved by her decision. He looked as if everything that had weighted him down was gone.

"Really."

"Really. Would you want me any different?"

Just to tease, she took a while to answer, eyeing him up and down until he fidgeted.

"I guess not."

Castiel shook his head, exasperated by her. "We should tell them. They'll have to find another demon."

"Good luck, Crowley will have decided to keep all things Hell-related from their radar..." She stopped, and turned, a wicked smile on her lips. "Oh, now there's a thought."


Kevin was a little less than happy about the change of plans. As Castiel spoke to the Winchesters in low, hushed tones, Kevin stared at Meg across the library table.

"You would have been simpler."

"I will rip your throat out if you say that again," she answered perkily and Kevin shook his head.

"Don't you get it? If you were purified, somehow, then you won't be dragged down to Hell with all the other demons. You'd be free and whoever you're carrying would be free."

The demon gave him an odd look. "You don't really believe even with the Gates of Hell being shut that anyone is going to be free, do you? That I haven't thought of that? You really don't know me, kid."

He opened his mouth to ask what she meant when Dean sat down on the table to the left of Meg.

"So. Crowley? That's your counter-offer."

"Yep."

Sam shook his head as he sat next to Kevin. "But another demon, a black-eyed one, would be easier to get."

"Seriously, you guys learn nothing." Meg put her hands on the table and felt Castiel behind her like a shadow. "If there is anyone, anyone, who could get out of Hell, one way or another, it is Crowley. He's done enough ass-kissing and grovelling to get his way to the top. What makes you think he can't do it again?"

Dean looked at the table and then at Sam. "What do you think?"

Sam's eyes went heavy lidded. "I don't know."

But even as he spoke he felt that strange intoxicating warmth he'd felt before that eased his aches. Do what you have to do, Sam. Complete the trials.

Strangely, Meg was staring at him as if she'd heard that voice too and he stared back at her so hard that Castiel actually took a step forward.

"Sam?"

"We trap Crowley. It will give us time to find the cure. Has to be somewhere in here. Thousands of years of knowledge." He rapped his knuckles on the hardwood. "But how can we get him? I haven't seen a demon in weeks."

Meg smiled. "Leave that to me. He won't come to you guys but me? Give me a month."

No one missed the way her eyes almost glimmered eagerly at the thought of killing Crowley.


Four weeks later...

Castiel bottled up his frustration and focussed it into fuelling the search for the demon cure and helping the Winchesters. It would have been easier to stay with them, avoiding Heaven and Hell all together until they had Crowley and the cure.

It would have been easier than flying off to find her all the time and watching her from the shadows.

But he couldn't help it.

There wasn't a day that he didn't go to watch over her from a distance, and even then he would find time to visit her. He'd learned to stay his distance though but he wasn't sure why it seemed to make her even more volatile. Meg wandered all over the world to find what she needed, while the Winchesters stayed and researched and hunted with Kevin at their side. Castiel divided his time, his interest, between them, but didn't go against his word to her.

He wasn't going to cage her though there were times when he wanted to grab her just to keep her still.

But the latest in her long line of contacts had him ready to intervene as he watched her work him over in the basement of an old Michigan library.

It was an old demon, powerful and remarkably loyal to Crowley. Castiel hadn't recognized him from his place hidden in the shadows. Most of his attention was on watching Meg as she drew the demon into her trap.

Even though he was tired of chasing her, even he had to admit the way she drew in and trapped another demon was masterful.

"Crowley put the word out that he'd give us some nice promotion for your head on a platter, Meg," the demon snarled as he threw another punch.

Meg took it to her cheek and Castiel clenched his hands into fists to stop himself from going in.

She hadn't changed so much in the past weeks that he could see. But when he saw her dodge a swipe that came incredibly close to her stomach, he actually stepped forward.

Meg's taunting laugh made him stop.

"Come on, Marcel, how bad do you actually want it?" she taunted before standing up and slamming her hand into his cheek.

The bone crunched under the blow and Castiel saw a flash of silver that buried itself into the demon's sternum. Just enough to cripple him, not enough to kill him.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the demon went to his knees at her feet.

Meg moved fast, wrapping a collar and chain around the demon's neck. A set she'd taken from the Winchesters that in the past four weeks had seen a lot of use. Dodging another blow, she quickly wrapped it around one of the iron water pipes and jerked hard.

Almost immediately, the demon was weighed down and cursing furiously. But the wards and symbols etched into the metal made it impossible for him to move and she finished binding him.

"So. Let's make this real simple," Meg said as she dragged a chair in front of the tethered demon. The angel sword was still embedded in him and she reached out with a boot to press on it lightly, causing the demon to howl. "Where's Crowley's actual hideout?"

"Hell," Marcel snarled and she sighed.

"Try again. Harder. You know what I meant." The blade was pushed just a little deeper. "He has a base. An actual one."

"Why would I tell you that?" He spat out a mouthful of black blood. "A demon who has rented herself out to angels and humans as a personal whipping girl. You're a pet, Meg. You're disgusting to us."

She didn't flinch. "I'm not hearing a location. It's been a process of elimination as to who knows what. You're last on my list. And you know my reputation."

Something shuddered through the demon as the wards on the chain started to glow. Castiel blinked.

"Sometimes getting new allies finds you toys you never thought you could play with," she said. "Tell me."

Slowly, as if it was being dragged out of him, he started speaking in low, guttural Latin. Meg's head cocked to the side. "Really?" She gave a shrug. "There's a surprise. Crowley likes those industrial towns."

She patted Marcel on his blond head and jerked the sword out of his stomach, causing him to scream. "Thanks, precious."

Without bothering to listen to his pleas for death, she unchained him and let him fall to the ground. Not caring that he was free, she left the basement while sheathing the blade at her side.

Castiel slowly stepped out of the shadows and looked at the demon. Marcel trembled instinctively at the sight of him and closed his eyes. The angel simply looked back before he put his hand over the bruised face. The light that filtered through him slowly and painfully exorcised the demon.


"I don't get it, Sam." Dean ran his hand over the slew of post-its they had sprawled over the coffee table in front of the television. "I mean think it through. A demon's weaknesses are salt, iron, exorcism, holy water."

"Maybe it's not in their weaknesses, but their strengths."

"What? Being pains in the asses?"

Sam gave him a frustrated look and for the twentieth time in the day debated on telling him about the dreams he'd been having. Of possible peace. Of ways of curing a demon. It was why he was fighting so hard to keep it together while with each passing day he was sure he might be dying.

Instead, he picked up his fork and popped a piece of lettuce into his mouth.

"Demons revel in their darkness." Castiel's voice was sudden and both of them jumped on the couch. "Well. The higher ones that is."

"Thanks for the input. Maybe we can clockwork orange him then," Dean said as he wiped up the spilled beer that had drenched his lap. "How goes the Meg watching?"

"She has Crowley's location. I suspect she'll be back here momentarily."

"Meanwhile, a month has gone by and all we have are some rituals but nothing concrete that this will work." Both brothers flipped the books shut. "Great. Just great. Meg outdid us. Meg."

"How is she looking, Castiel?" Sam asked. "'Cause you look tired."

"She moves fast and lies low. When I do catch up to her, I have found it best that I not bring up very much. She's preoccupied." The angel stood in front of the television, blocking the Spanish soap that Dean had been half-watching. "We spent most of the time arguing."

"Maybe you could just get her into a long sex coma and she won't have the energy to argue with you," Dean suggested, trying to see around the angel. Waving him out of the way didn't work.

Castiel frowned. "I'm confused. How exactly would that work?" Dean simply stared at him and slowly a look of understanding finally crossed his face. "Oh, I see. Sex, am I right?"

He thought it over. "I would need to have quite sexual marathon though. She is a demon and would be hard to exhaust to such a point, so I would be gone for days until..."

"Ugh," Sam put his fork down. "I was trying to eat."

"I was kidding, Cas," Dean said, equally put out.

Castiel blinked. "I knew that."

Sam looked down at his book, a translated text from an old medieval hunter called Thomas the Elder, and squinted. He'd picked up the book without really realizing why. It was from the Crusades, when hunters had become soldiers, and had been translated through the years.

Without actually seeing the pages, he flipped them rapidly until they stopped and he heard a voice in his head murmuring for him to look. Dean and Castiel continued to talk over him but he stared at the page until the words slowly became clear.

"Hey, get this." Both of them looked over and he swivelled the book around. "In the Crusades, during the Siege of Acre, there were hunters for both the Christian and the Muslim causes that banded together to hunt. What side they'd joined was just a cover for them. The demon Belial, one of Lucifer's first fallen, had his own small army decimating each side, taking down as many hunters as they could. Until Thomas captured Belial and for two weeks he put the demon through trials to learn the secrets of Hell."

"We've done the same thing..."

"Yeah but on the last day, he came out with a mortal man who claimed to be Belial. The soul had apparently consumed the body and the human he possessed had been sent to Heaven. Belial fought for their cause after that and died of old age once he hit one hundred years old."

Castiel stared. "But how? Angels could never cure demons. It is why we were ordered to destroy them."

"Humans maybe had more imagination," Dean teased and the angel glared at him.

"It says it was a series of rituals. By cleansing the soul and offering forgiveness while demanding the demon repent and making them repent." Sam rubbed at his eyes. "I'll have to get Kevin to help me translate. The ritual is written in some sort of code. But I do recognize something about angels. So we likely need you, Castiel."

Dean looked at him. "Where the hell did you find that book? We spent days looking!"

Sam sheepishly looked down. "It was at the bottom of my last pile. We've gone through so many for even hints of it happening."

"Helpful."

"I can iron out the details." He looked away and grabbed a napkin for a makeshift bookmark. "Demon is ingredient number one, right?"

"Yeah sure."

Castiel gave Sam an odd admiring look. "Well done."

"Look. Just... get Meg here," Dean said. "If we can at least get Crowley out of commission, we can put Hell into a ruckus and that'll make me happy."

Castiel nodded and was gone in the next moment.

Sam shook his head and made a whip-crack noise. Dean glanced at him.

"Was that at me or Meg?"

"Both. He's so damn eager to help."

The tension in Sam's voice wasn't like him and Dean looked at him curiously. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just… going to get some sleep again."

"Least you're sleeping better. I'll shut everything down and check on Kevin. Worst thing you did was letting him know your WiFi trick." Dean began to pack up the books and as Sam wearily made his way up to his bedroom, he shook his head.

"Talk to me, Sam," he whispered to himself before he followed him, arms full with occult text.


Crowley stared at the map. All sightings of Meg and Winchesters had been documented. He kept all of his demons away from the Winchesters. Meg was erratic and he'd sent out his best to hunt her down over her slow but steady path, and each of them had been killed. Either by her hand or by Castiel's, if Crowley was any judge of patterns.

She was sending him a message; Lucifer's loyalist was coming for him and she wanted a fight. Which he was more than willing to give her as long as he was able to get something else from it.

But he also hadn't forgotten that mysterious offer all this time.

He'd just rip that abomination out of Meg and he'd be given something he wanted. Absolute power.

Almost gave him the shivers just thinking about it. It was an easy thing too. Just rip out a baby and hand Meg over.

He still had some threads of power from that woman and he intended to use them.

"So why the hell is it so bloody hard to find her?" he asked, leaning over his maps.


Meg wasn't hard to find, not for him. She'd already made it to Arkansas by the time Castiel found her about to hitch a ride with a trucker. The trucker had taken off the moment he saw the tall man in the trench coat glaring at him and left her in a cloud of dust. She'd had her mouth open to say something when he clamped a hand over her shoulder and immediately transported them back to the bunker.

"You get so bossy when you have to travel," she muttered at the doorway. "Didn't even say: 'Hey, Meg, how're you?'"

"I know. They're expecting us." He walked behind her into the bunker, disabling the alarms with a wave of his hand. He knew the system so well now that it hadn't taken much to figure out. But the entire bunker was quiet and closed down.

"Looks like we're late to the party."

Meg slipped around him to the common room and he followed at a distance while checking over everything. Grabbing Sam's half-eaten salad off the coffee table, she sniffed it and then threw it in the garbage. "God, Moose by name, Moose by nature."

"They're asleep," Castiel said, eyeing the stairs.

"Go figure. Humans sleep." She plopped down on the couch. "So we wait."

Carefully, he sat down beside her and felt remarkably awkward when she stared at him. "You found the location."

"You were there, weren't you? So why ask?" she pointed out and he looked at her. "I felt you."

"How?"

"I don't question. I just did."

"I was worried about you and you have been almost stand-offish. All I did last time was ask if you were feeling any side-effects."

"No and no. It's a kid, featherbrain. I'm not going to die," she grumbled. She swivelled on the couch and watched as he rested his head back on the couch. Aware of her look, he looked over at her and she tilted her head. "You're worn out."

"You're concerned?" He looked back up at the ceiling.

"Something like that. Can't have you ditching out on child support payments."

He rolled his eyes and closed them, sighing heavily. "This is all too complex."

"Yeah, I'll give you that. Closing the Gates of Hell?" She whistled. "That would have thrown anyone for a loop."

"You know that's not what I was referring to." Blindly, he waved his hand between them. "This is what I was referring to. Us."

"Nice to know you care, Clarence." She cleared her throat. "Did you know that you haven't tried a thing for a month when I know you've been stalking me? I think you have the self-control thing down to perfection but I thought you learned some initiative."

His eyes opened just as she moved forward on the couch. She slid over him, one slender leg at a time, and he blinked, startled by how close she was. "So." Sitting back on his lap, she smirked. "Make up sex for the past month?"

"That would be nice…" Realizing what he'd just said, Castiel gulped. That was nothing like what he should have said. He squirmed to try to get free as her hands moved down his chest. "We shouldn't."

"What's the worst that can happen?" she drawled lazily as she drew her coat over her shoulders and tossed it on the carpet. "The biggest oops already happened."

Her mouth covered his and he mumbled against her lips as she kissed him. When she broke away, his eyes were wide and taking her in.

"If the child thinks of it as a threat," he stammered as she unbuttoned his shirt for him and pressed her mouth to his collarbone.

"Better make me real happy then, Castiel. Show me your A-game, angel. Better yet… I'll show you mine before you show me yours."

His eyes stayed on the ceiling as she began to lick and bite her way down his chest, pausing to sink her teeth into the slight indenture of his ribcage. Hissing, he arched his back a little and felt her laugh against his skin. The low hum of it sent prickles of heat through his body as she lapped at his skin, the sharp edge of her bites leaving marks. Her hair brushed over his stomach and without thought he closed his eyes and pushed his hands into the soft strands, feeling the slow release of his trousers being opened.

When he managed to open his eyes, Meg was staring up at him. Nervously, he reached out and tugged on an errant lock of her hair.

"We're still dressed and on the Winchesters' couch. That seems wrong."

Meg's smirk was just shy of evil. "Better hold on tight, angel."

He was about to ask what she meant but the way she lowered her head back down had him grasping the couch tight under his hands and closing his eyes again.


He should have moved them, Castiel thought an hour later. If Dean had found them defiling his favourite spot on the couch, he doubted he'd be let back in. But there had been something oddly nice about staying beside Meg. For once she'd actually liked to be near him afterwards, though he figured it was because the couch didn't offer much by way of space versus some secret want to hold him. As it was he had to keep himself braced up against her, awkwardly wedged between her hip and the arm of the couch.

The doze she was in made it easier to read what was going on. Aware that she was seemingly lost in thought, Castiel shifted on the couch and pressed his hand over her stomach. There was a definite curve to her belly now, nothing large but enough to give him a sign that she was changing more. Strange that he could feel her now. Both of them. Even without really using any power, he could tell that Meg's existence was tethered by their daughter and the connection was as deep as his.

That connection was just as twisted around him and the demon and he knew he was strangely content with that new arrangement.

He flicked his eyes up to her face to see her eyes shut. She was shivering but didn't move away from him. He fished his coat off the floor, not as affected as she was, and quickly tucked it around her body. Meg murmured, groggily shifting around so she could bury herself against his arm and he held her a bit closer.

Maybe this was what his dream had meant. He could have moments of peace between those longer stretches of chaos.

His fingers went onto her stomach and he realized he could feel the tiny tiny heartbeat of something alive within her.

Instead of getting up and dressing, instead of going to wake Dean so they could begin, he stayed beside her.

Angels were not about creation. They were soldiers. Warriors of Light.

Demons were not about creation. They were tortured souls. Agents of Darkness.

Between them, they had actually created life and for the first time, Castiel felt genuinely overwhelmed. His hand curled over her hip and he shifted Meg around. He slipped down the couch and pressed his head against her breasts, feeling her fingers card through his hair.

"Hey, no using me as a mattress. You're heavy."

He shook his head and didn't speak, hands holding her hips tight. He could almost hear that impatient heartbeat now, as loud as his own vessel's.

"Lapful of clingy angel. I like."

Meg made an odd sound when he suddenly drew her down the couch underneath him, mouth seeking hers desperately. He only saw a flicker of doubt in her smirk but he closed his eyes and kissed her, pressing her into the cushions. The delighted moan she made was enough to make him throw the coat out of the way and forget how overwhelmed he'd just felt.


It was hard to reconcile the hours before with the more abrupt, almost calculated way they were both readying themselves with now. Neither spoke a word about the time they'd spent alone. Not to Dean or to Sam. It had been difficult to look Dean in the eye and say they had just arrived but somehow Castiel had managed. The eldest Winchester didn't question it

"Have you been dreaming?" Castiel asked Meg as he passed her.

"Not lately." She looked over at him and fixed the blade holster on her belt. "Everything just sort of faded lately."

He nodded and turned to help Dean.

Meg watched him and the human work together and wondered if he'd realized just how strange she felt.

Not exactly happier. She was sure she was the same.

But some of the weight of the past week's had been lifted when she was so close to finishing off Crowley and getting some form of revenge. Still, there was something more that was giving her a sense of purpose. No more dreams, no more Lethe aftereffects. She was coming to terms with what she was now.

Though exactly what that was was unclear.

"You good to go?" Dean asked as he cocked his shotgun.

"Good as I'll ever be. You know the plan?"

"Yeah." He rolled his eyes. "Can't say it isn't stupid."

Meg smirked. "When you think of something better, let me know."


He was predictable, Meg decided as she made her way up the driveway.

She had seen the old abandoned textile plant at the outskirts of the city and knew the instant where Crowley was holed up. It was a typical demon method; humans didn't like these places and angels wouldn't be bothered to look. It wasn't exactly well hidden though. Especially with the large Enochian ward painted on the front wall.

Two of the demons patrolling the front stopped short as she walked calmly towards them. It had been a long walk up the drive and she didn't doubt that Crowley knew she was here by now. Shifting the bag she carried, she eyed the larger of the two demons.

"Take me to your leader," she jibed dramatically and he stammered.

"You... you're dead!"

"I get that a lot. Tell your boss I have something for him but he has to have something for me. Go on."

The first one ran off to do as she ordered, leaving the last one behind. Meg gave him a pleasant smile as he circled her, and she discreetly pulled her angel sword out. "I actually need you to do something for me too."

He fidgeted, clearly not trusting her. Which, how could she blame him?

"What?"

She waited for him to step just an inch closer before she swivelled on her heel. The angel sword sliced neatly into his throat, sliding in so easily that the spray of blood only caught her hands as she jerked it out and then shoved it into his heart. The demon opened his mouth to scream and she shoved her fist between his lips to shut him up until he sagged lifeless to the ground. Smirking at the twitching body, she quick;y dragged him over towards the rear dumpster and quickly teleported to the ward. It almost hummed with power but she ignored it, swiping her blood drenched fingers through it and drawing a new one.

Whatever was still in the building might weaken Castiel, but not out here. There was no way she would go inside anyway. It would be another death sentence. One eye on the distant roadway, she hefted the canvas bag over her shoulder and made her way back to the front of the warehouse.

More demons were waiting for her.

"Meg. You know, for such a cockroach you do like to make an entrance," Crowley said as he walked down the loading ramp towards her. She tilted her head and looked around. Of course he had more demons at his back. "You're alone?"

There was an odd, relaxed tone to his voice. As if he could barely keep his eyes open let alone his attention on her but Meg wasn't about to question it.

"I really scare you, huh? All of you, one little old me."

"Insurance. Your pet angel might be around for all I know."

"Ah. I kept him out of the loop for this one." She dangled the bag at him. "I don't think he likes my survival skills."

"He's not trying to domesticate you? The whole barefoot and pregnant thing isn't as appealing as you thought?"

"Maybe to you it would. One day, Crowley, I'm sure you might get someone remotely interested in you. Maybe even an angel," she countered and something actually tensed in his expression. "I didn't come here so you could try to show me how big your ego is. I came here to negotiate."

"Nice to know you don't change, not really." Crowley walked a slow circle around her and Meg just kept herself ready to move. "So why did you call me?"

"For once, we can do each other a favour, Crowley." Her head tilted. "Don't you think?"

"You've been killing my men."

"You set them after me. You don't care about them anymore than I would. So let's cut a deal. I'll give you something and you get off my back for a few months. You think I care what you do to the Winchesters? I do this on my terms."

"You're helping Dean and Sam Winchester by getting them to close the Gates of Hell. That's pathetic, even for you." He sneered. "That angel must be very good in bed to make you forget that."

"Don't be jealous, Crowley." She looked away. "I'm not going to let them close the Gates. The last thing I want is to go back to a place where I'm about to be slaughtered. So. I decided that the one person who can help prevent it might help me."

"Why this desperation to get me to stop following you, hmm?" He turned around and watched her dig into the canvas bag. "And what could you have that I want?"

Meg threw the tablet onto the ground between them. Even from the distance, Crowley could see what it was.

"Winchesters don't lock it up tight. Makes it easy for a girl like me when an angel's wrapped around my finger."

Crowley stared at the tablet hungrily but didn't move toward it.

"That's my good traitorous little girl."

"Don't get patronizing, Crowley," Meg warned. "It's simply enemy of my enemy is my friend for now, all that. They hit enemy list for me with the gate closing and sending me back to hell schtick."

"Let's say I take this tablet. What's to keep me from killing you?" He stepped towards the tablet and picked it up, tucking it into his coat pocket. "You really make the worst moves, sweetheart."

"You know, I was hoping you'd say that."

There was a loud explosion and Crowley jerked as a bullet buried itself into his chest. The demons surrounding them jerked and looked around.

"A sniper?" Crowley gave her an unimpressed look. "What is this? The grassy knoll?"

"Not exactly."

"You know, this makes killing you all the more fun."

He went to move, only to find his feet firmly in place.

"Bullocks." He waved his hand at the angels. "Boys!"

Before any of them could get more than a step, there was a singing sound of light exploding. Meg smirked and shielded her eyes, listening to the howling sounds of the demons. When she looked up, it was only her and Crowley, alone in the parking lot. The bodies of the demons were even gone.

"That's my boy," she muttered.

"What the hell are you playing at?" Crowley demanded. "I am the only one who can keep the tablet from those Winchesters."

Meg appeared to think it over. "Yeah. I'm sure."

Coming from behind the dumpster, Dean smirked at the demon as he rested his shotgun on his shoulder. "Crowley."

Meg looked at the hunter. "Not bad. Been practising with a potato gun?"

Dean ignored her. "Man, that trick is too much fun to use. Devil trap bullets and shot gun shells. Love my family."

Crowley leaned towards him but he was tethered in place. "Oh you little whor..."

Snatching Dean's shotgun out of his hand, Meg slammed the butt of it against Crowley's face and sent him to his knees. He groaned, spewing up blood. Dean looked at her and she shrugged.

"I get tired of that."

Dean made a face as he bent and began chaining Crowley up quickly. "Come on, King. We got a nice throne for you to sit on for a bit."

"You're making a very big mistake." Crowley struggled against the chains. The wards embossed on the metal glowed in reaction and he groaned in pain. "You're trusting her! After all our back history!"

"Yeah. Quite a history. Cas?"

The angel appeared between them, fingers flexing and stained with blood. He looked at Meg and she shrugged, waving her fingers at the demon. Castiel ran his eyes over her and then Dean to make sure they weren't hurt. Without question, he grabbed Crowley by the scruff of the neck to take him back to the bunker and disappeared.

Dean glanced at Meg as he made sure to pick up the tablet.

"Not bad, eh?"

Meg frowned. "That was way too easy."

"Yeah well, I take what I can get. We got Crowley, Sam's got a start on the ritual, and we can do this." Dean walked away to the Impala and after a moment Meg followed him down the driveway.

"Way too easy," she muttered under her breath.