How about a little fluff to start off your week? There may actually be some of that in this chapter :P
A/N: Some dialogue taken from "Goodbye Stranger"
Chapter Eight
The next day, they were getting a motel room in Indiana, in the nearest town to Crowley's hideout, while they waited for Dean to get there. Sam had found the place they were looking for, though, on a few local websites. Apparently it had been an old asylum. Just the kind of place Crowley liked to use as his hideouts.
Castiel waited impatiently for Dean to get there, thinking of every passing minute where Meg was just suffering more by Crowley's hand, but he also knew that he was not at the capacity to go in single-handedly and take out however many demons Crowley would have around him—not to mention Crowley himself if it came to that. He would need backup.
Instead, he set about cleaning his trench coat while he waited, managing to scrub off almost all the dirt and blood. There were just a couple places where it was more stubborn, but he could easily fix that when he was back at full power. Right now, though, he wanted to conserve all he could for the rescue mission.
Eventually, the familiar rumble of the Impala could be heard outside and Castiel and Sam both looked up, relieved. Sam got up to open the door for Dean and the elder Winchester came into the room, grinning when he saw Cas.
"Hey, man, good to see you on two feet."
Cas smiled. "Well, I'm not completely back to full power yet, but I am conscious so I suppose that has to count for something."
"So, what's the plan for rescuing your demonic girlfriend?"
Castiel gave Dean a rather longsuffering look, but crossed to the table to point at some maps he and Sam had printed out. "This is where we believe Crowley is keeping her. As for getting in, well, we decided that the best option is just to… go for it."
Dean raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Okay then. That works for me. Brute force and firepower is my favorite way to go. And we've just had the best training possible for the last few weeks."
Castiel had to smile. "I suppose no one can accuse us of being rusty."
"No way," Dean agreed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Now come on. Let's do this."
Castiel grabbed his angel blade and pulled on his trench coat.
The asylum was an intimidating place, lowering and old. Castiel thought he could almost feel the troubled and anguished souls that had once been interred there. But they were not there on a ghost hunt that day, even though there may well have been many restless spirits there. It had been a tactical choice on Crowley's part for a hideout. Castiel stood shoulder to shoulder with Sam and Dean as they considered their options.
"Well," Dean said, twirling his own angel blade in one hand. "I guess there's two options. We either go in the front or the back."
Castiel thought a moment then simply strode forward. "Crowley wouldn't expect us to be stupid enough to go in the front."
Sam and Dean shared a look, shrugged, and followed him. Castiel marched up the steps toward the door, and simply kicked it in.
There was nothing. No one waiting for them. No guards or anything.
The three of them shared a look. Castiel had a pit in his stomach, wondering if they had been wrong after all, when he caught the distant sound of running feet.
"Sam, Dean," he warned.
"Incoming," Dean muttered, as they formed a circle, back to back. When the demons rounded the corner, they were met by their deaths at the hands of the Winchesters and the avenging angel.
Once the demons were dead, Castiel closed his eyes and focused his senses, listening for more life further in the building.
"This way," he said and led the way deeper into Crowley's hideout.
Meg was unable to help a cry as Crowley artistically carved a furrow over her collarbone with the angel blade he had taken from her.
"Is that all you've got?" she taunted, though the waver in her voice sort of ruined the defiant moment.
Crowley smiled sweetly at her before he grabbed a fistful of her hair, making her wince, as he pressed his face close to hers. "Oh, don't worry, love, this is just a little foreplay. I have so many more fun things to do with you. Just let me know what you like best. I will be more than happy to oblige."
"Okay then," Meg snarled. "Why don't you take that knife and shove it up your ass?"
Crowley smirked and then slapped her hard across the face before he sliced the blade across her stomach and hip. Meg cried out, her breath shuddering in her lungs as she wondered just how much more of this she was going to be able to take before she broke. The only thing stopping her was her need to show Crowley she was better than that. And also because she still believed Castiel would come for her. She couldn't give up that hope. Not yet.
Crowley turned back to his cart of torture implements, deciding what to choose next when there were sounds of commotion somewhere in the building. Meg's ears pricked up despite herself, her breath catching in her throat. Crowley sighed and turned to one of his demon lackeys who was standing in the corner of the room.
"Go see what all that racket is about and tell them to keep it down! Don't they know I'm busy with a session?!"
"Sorry, your majesty, I'll go check on it right away," the demon said and strode toward the door.
Crowley turned back to Meg and by that time she was grinning, laughing breathlessly. He strode back to her rack, furious, and grabbed her around the throat.
"What's so funny, you scrap of filth?"
Meg met his eyes and smiled at him. "My unicorn."
There was a scream and the door slammed open, the demon Crowley had just sent away sprawling on the floor with his eyes burned out. Meg looked up to see the trench coat and the glowing halo of her savior.
None of the demons had any real chance against the three of them. The ones Castiel and the Winchesters couldn't take out with angel blades, Castiel himself smote. Each smiting drained him, his power still down, but he kept going anyway, not about to stop for any reason, even if he had to pay for it later.
As they found themselves getting deeper into the asylum, they came to a room with a closed door. Castiel was sure he could feel Meg on the other side. He nodded to Sam and Dean and they got ready to break through. One demon came out, startled to see them, and Castiel simply pressed a hand to his forehead, smiting him before kicking him back through the door. He felt a bit light-headed from the smiting, but he didn't have time to worry about that, only forcing a deep breath into his lungs to combat the dizziness.
Castiel looked up and came face-to-face with Crowley. The demon was standing in a bloody apron next to a rack, which held Meg. Castiel's heart rose in his throat at the sight of her, and the terrible state she seemed to be in, but somehow she was still smiling. At him.
Sam and Dean hurried in to stand at Castiel's back, their blades ready.
Crowley glared at the three of them. "Moose, I see you got Squirrel and the choir boy back," he grunted, before turning his attention fully to Castiel. "And you, Castiel, you look well. Not barmy anymore, I see. Good. Now I don't have to feel so bad about killing your girlfriend. Especially since you're not needed to stop Dick Roman anymore."
"Touch her one more time and I will smite you," Castiel said, and started to force the grace he had left to manifest, his eyes glowing blue.
Crowley, however, just smirked. "Oh, one more time, you said? You mean like this?" He deliberately held up a hand and stroked the side of Meg's face, causing her to cringe in disgust.
Castiel felt rage surge through him, powering his grace so that he glowed, his wings making huge shadows over the walls. He took one step toward the King of Hell and Crowley seemed to think twice, finally.
"Ah, that would be my cue," the demon said and snapped his fingers, disappearing instantly.
Castiel powered down, feeling worn out, but they had finished slaying demons for now so he would be all right. He finally turned his full attention to Meg who was smiling at him.
"Aren't you a little short for a storm trooper?" she asked blandly, quirking an eyebrow.
"Meg," Castiel went over to the rack she was chained to, and softly touched his fingers to her cheek where there was a large bruise and crusted blood from various abrasions. He could feel the pain emanating from her body, but didn't have the ability to heal demons. "What did he do to you?" he asked helplessly.
"Don't look like that, I've had worse," she said softly.
Dean handed Castiel the which he'd found on the tray and the angel started to unlock Meg's manacles, anger flaring up again as he saw the raw flesh underneath of them. Meg's eyes lingered on him for a long second before she glanced toward the Winchesters.
"I gotta hand it to you, Sam. You did bring them back without dying, and in record time too," she said.
Sam offered a small smile. "I'm sorry it took us as long as it did. But I'm glad to see you still alive."
"Stow it, this sentimental crap is almost worse than Crowley's knife." She gasped slightly as Castiel finished extricating her and she started to slide off the slightly tilted rack, but he caught her before she could fall and simply picked her up in his arms.
Meg made a surprised, yet pleased, sound as she gripped his coat with one hand. "There's my knight in shining armor," she said with a small smile.
Castiel couldn't help but smile back at her, grateful that she was actually in his arms, and alive. "Let's get out of here."
"What about Crowley?" Sam asked, looking around as if the demon might pop up out of nowhere.
"He's not stupid enough to come back now," Dean assured him. "We can kill him another day."
"But we should still get out of here in case he decides we're worth the trouble," Meg commented.
No one argued. Castiel carried her out behind the Winchesters and they all piled into the Impala. Castiel placed Meg gently into the backseat before he got in beside her and Dean started the engine and drove off back for their motel.
The drive was almost awkwardly silent. Castiel didn't know what to say but he couldn't take his eyes off Meg either, guilt over what Crowley had done to her eating at him as he took in all the injuries she had sustained. Of course, it hadn't directly been his fault she had been captured, but he had been part of the reason Crowley had taken her, so he still felt somewhat responsible.
Meg mostly stared at him too, a small smile on her lips that he couldn't quite read. Finally, she simply reached out and settled a hand over one of his that he had left resting on the seat between them and Castiel carefully curled his fingers around hers, his thumb smoothing over a bruise on the back of her hand.
Once they parked back at the motel, it took Castiel several seconds to realize Dean was calling him, and he looked up to see the elder Winchester leaning over the seat and rolling his eyes, muttering something to Sam about 'sexual tension'. Castiel blinked. "Yes, Dean?"
"I said I'm gonna get Meg a room," the hunter repeated.
"Oh, yes, thank you," Castiel replied and turned back to Meg who had slumped against the window partway through the drive. He squeezed the hand he was still holding and she started, looking up at him.
"Hey, Clarence," she said with a smile.
"Hey," he replied softly. "We're at the motel. Dean's getting you a room."
She nodded and shifted to sit up, but winced. Castiel carefully gripped her shoulders to steady her. "Hold on."
He got out of the car and went around to Meg's side so he could more easily get her out. By the time he had maneuvered her into his arms again, Dean was back with a key and showed Castiel to the second room where he gently deposited Meg down on the bed.
"I'll be back soon. I'm going to get some first aid things," he promised her.
"Come on, Cas, I'll lend you our kit," Dean told him, nodding toward the door.
Castiel followed him out to the Impala where Sam was already sorting through the trunk. He turned to Cas as he and Dean came up, a duffle bag in one hand.
"Here, this is Meg's stuff. She probably wants a change of clothes," Sam told him.
Castiel took the bag gratefully, not even having thought about that.
"And the first aid kit," Dean told him, handing him another duffle bag. "Think you'll need any help?"
Castiel shook his head. "No, but thank you. And thank you for helping me rescue Meg as well. I appreciate it."
Dean grinned. "Hey, you know us. Any chance to gank demons."
Castiel smiled slightly, before looking back toward Meg's room. "I have to see to Meg's wounds now. I will stay with her tonight."
Dean's eyebrows rose at that, though there was some amusement in his eyes that Castiel couldn't quite interpret. "Oh, yeah, of course," he said as Sam rolled his eyes. "Um, you have protection, right?"
"Dean," Sam hissed, elbowing his brother in the ribs.
Castiel narrowed his brows, wondering why Dean was being odd all of a sudden and thought he was probably missing some inside joke. "Of course. I have my angel blade, Dean."
Sam looked like he was trying not to laugh as Dean just made a choking sound before he smiled. "Okay, sure, Cas. Just…let us know if you need anything."
"I will, thank you," Castiel said and turned back toward the room.
Meg took a moment to reorient herself while Castiel and Dean went to get the first aid things. Her whole body was aching, and even though she knew she would recover in a few days, she was still kind of shaken. Mainly though, she was grateful that Castiel had gotten out of Purgatory—alive no less—and come to rescue her. She had to admit, she'd been kind of skeptical as to whether he would get there in time, but he had. Just one more miracle that angel had surprised her with.
The first of which had been making her fall for him.
She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, before she looked down at herself. Her clothes were torn and ruined, covered in her own blood, and her shirt was sticking uncomfortably to her wounds. She started to try and maneuver it over her head, just as Castiel opened the door again.
"Oh, sorry," he said as she looked up, her shirt half over her head, and one of her arms stuck. A gasp caught in her throat as a deep wound in her side pulled at the movement.
"I could use a little help," she told him.
Castiel stood there for a second, his mouth slightly open, and then surged forward, dropping the two duffle bags he had been carrying onto the end of the bed before he gingerly helped her extricate herself from the shirt, seeming to take special care not to touch her skin. She almost laughed, but didn't want to embarrass the poor guy even more.
"Thanks," she said.
Cas nodded and cleared his throat, his eyes focusing beyond her shoulder. She fought a smirk—it wasn't like she was naked. "Um, Sam gave me your bag. I thought you might like to have some clean clothes."
She nodded. "If you can help me clean up, first, that would be great."
Cas nodded, still not looking at her, and she was unable to help laughing this time. "I'm not shy, Castiel. You're going to have to see all my wounds anyway, if you're planning on patching them up."
He finally met her eyes, a stoic look on his face. "I know, sorry, I was just trying to make you feel less uncomfortable."
Of course he was, her sweet angel. Meg thought the funniest thing about it was that he actually meant that. And they said chivalry was dead.
He cleared his throat then, and headed toward the bathroom. "I'll get some cloths and towels."
In another few minutes, he had set up all the things he would need to tend to her wounds, and Meg had pulled a towel around her shoulders so Cas wasn't quite so embarrassed. She watched him as he slipped out of his trench coat, and rolled up his sleeves before he sat on the edge of the bed, facing her. Meg raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down.
"The jeans are a good look on you," she told him. "But I have to say, I do miss the tie. It just went so well with your coat."
Castiel smiled slightly, as he reached for a wet washcloth to begin dabbing the dried blood from her wounds. "This is…temporary. I didn't have anything but the hospital clothing when I got out of Purgatory."
Meg studied him as he cleaned her injuries methodically, starting with her wrists and working up her arms. He seemed…put together. More like his old self again instead of the loopy counterpart that she had cared for.
"These wounds have started to fester," he said, dabbing gently at the inside of her right wrist where the manacles had cut into her repeatedly as she struggled on the rack.
"I'm not surprised," she remarked, watching as he carefully wrapped some gauze coated with antibiotic cream around her tender wrist, his fingers brushing her skin only lightly as if afraid any touch would cause her pain, as if she were made of glass. It was so different to how anyone had ever touched her before that it made her smile and warmed something deep inside of her. "You really do know how to make a girl's nethers quiver, don't you?" she teased.
Castiel's cheeks tinted slightly, but he continued with his task. "I…am aware of how to do that. Although it doesn't usually involve cleaning wounds."
Meg shrugged, her eyes still locked on his face, watching how intently he worked, putting so much care and devotion into every little motion. "Why are you so sweet on me, Clarence?" she asked offhand.
He glanced up at her before returning his gaze to a deep cut on her arm. "I don't know," he replied. "And I still don't know who Clarence is."
Meg smirked. "Would it kill you to watch a movie, read a book?"
Castiel shrugged. "A movie, no. But a book with the proper spells, yeah, it could theoretically kill me."
"You know you're much cuter when you're shutting up," Meg told him fondly.
Cas looked up at her again, but didn't say anything, moving on to a cut on her collarbone.
"So," she continued, studying him again. "Which Cas are you now? Original make and model or crazytown?"
Cas shrugged. "I'm just me."
"So your noodle's back in order?"
He gave a small nod. "Yeah, my noodle remembers everything; I think it's a pretty good noodle."
Meg smiled slightly and raised an eyebrow at him. "Hm, you remember everything?"
Cas stopped cleaning her wound and looked at her for a long moment before flicking his eyes away in embarrassment. "If…you're referring to the pizza man, then, yes, I remember the pizza man. And it's a good memory."
Meg grinned then hissed as he pressed against the raw wound. Castiel apologized and turned to grab some gauze to tape over it.
"You ever miss the apocalypse?" Meg asked after a few moments of silence.
Castiel gave her a funny look. "No, why would I miss the end of times?"
Meg pulled the towel off her shoulder so he could see to another bad wound and shrugged slightly. "I guess I miss the simplicity," she told him. "I was bad, you were good…life was easier. Now it's all so messy."
Cas gave her a bemused look as he reached for more gauze. "How so?"
"Well, I'm kinda good, which sucks," Meg told him and gained a small smile from the angel. "And you're kinda bad…which is actually all manner of hot." He cast a glance at her as if he didn't quite believe or understand what she was saying.
"Well, thanks, I guess…" he replied.
She shifted so he could start cleaning a wound on her side, and quirked an eyebrow at him. "You know, Cas, when I'm better, and there's no impending doom, I think we should take some time, just the two of us." She looked up at him and he met her eyes, his gaze so piercing. She always felt like those blue orbs were seeing straight into her, and the fact that he could do that, see her for who she truly was, and still care so much for her, was the reason she had fallen for him in the first place.
"That would be nice," he said.
She smiled suggestively. "And when we do, I want to order some pizza, and we're gonna move some furniture around, do you understand?"
Castiel cocked his head at her, eyes narrowing. "No, I—" She kept smiling, and raised an eyebrow, trying to get the point across. Understanding dawned on Cas' face, along with a slight flush as he looked down to one side before flicking his eyes back to hers. "No wait, yes, I do…"
She didn't let him finish before she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Castiel became a statue, frozen in surprise before she pulled back several inches to find his blue eyes staring into hers again.
"Meg," he whispered.
She smirked and pressed a finger to his lips. "What did I tell you before, Clarence?" she teased.
Castiel smiled back and carefully reached up a hand to cup the back of her head, his fingers tangling with her hair as he tipped her head backwards slightly before he lowered his mouth to hers again. This time, he was not a statue and Meg relished the feeling of his mouth melding to hers, as she reached up to grip his shoulders. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer. She moaned slightly as he deepened the kiss, tentatively at first, then with more confidence. Her whole being was overwhelmed by the feel of him; the light of his grace, the clean, fresh way he tasted like lightning and rainwater. There was something transcending about the experience that made her feel pure. The fact that an angel could love her, a lowly demon—it made her feel like she could overcome anything. It was almost like…absolution.
When she came out of the dizzying, passionate vortex, she found herself sitting on Cas' lap, her hands tangling in his hair, and one of his hands pressed hot to the bare skin of her back. They stared at each other for a moment, breathing heavily, before that adorable look of embarrassment with the vague blush of realization crossed his features again and he gently helped her sit back against the pillows as he stood from the bed.
Cas cleared his throat. "Um, I've finished with your wounds." He began to put away the first aid things while Meg reached for her bag and rummaged through it for a comfortable shirt that wouldn't rub on the wounds.
She pulled it on carefully while Cas finished cleaning up and noticed he looked like he wasn't sure what to do just then. She suddenly realized that she didn't want him to leave. She didn't want to be left alone right now.
"Cas," she said quietly, reaching out and grabbing his hand as he picked up the first aid bag. "Stay with me." She was almost disgusted with herself for that weakness, but she had truly never felt more vulnerable than at that moment. The days of torture had worn on her. The days of not knowing whether Castiel was alive or dead had too. Now that she had her angel back, she wasn't ready to let him go.
He dropped the bag after a second and smiled slightly. "Okay. But only if you rest. Your wounds need time to heal."
"I'll rest if you will," she said firmly. "You're cute and all, but you look like crap."
Cas gave her a sheepish look. "I have been a bit low on power recently."
"I can tell," Meg said and patted the bed beside her.
Cas sighed resignedly but smiled as he pulled the covers down before sliding into the bed beside Meg, sitting mostly propped up against the headboard. Meg turned to face him, pulling the covers up around her shoulder before she curled up against him, resting her cheek against his chest, feeling the grace that swirled within him, pulsing with his essence.
Cas wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Meg closed her eyes and smiled. This may have been one of her weakest, most vulnerable, moments, but she couldn't help but think she had never felt stronger and more protected than she was right now in Castiel's arms.
