"You dyed your hair back."
"The blonde look wasn't working for me. You like?"
"But you died," Sam choked. He felt like he should be doing something. Pulling her away from Kevin at least.
"Yes, we established that. Her hair is dyed. You're supposed to compliment them when their appearance changes. Or if you can't think of anything nice to say, then don't mention it at all."
"Not her hair—I mean she died, died. Crowley killed you! And how did you even get in here?"
"Nice, Sam. Really feeling the love."
"I let her in," Kevin said, raising a hand. He looked like he hadn't slept since the last time they'd seen him. "She knocked. I figured you must've sent her."
"Why?"
"I don't know. Because she's an ally? She was there when I met you guys."
"That's not Meg," Sam decided, moving to put himself between the prophet and whatever the hell this was. "Meg's dead. And you know, that wasn't even Meg's body to begin with. Anything could've moved in there."
"You didn't tell me Meg had died," Castiel said, quietly. "When did this happen?"
"When you took off with the tablet. Sorry, we… just didn't think to mention it."
"Ouch," Meg tilted her head, giving Sam a look that made him squirm a little, guiltily. "Seriously? After everything, after I died for you guys, you didn't even think to mention it?"
"We were busy."
"So what do you want me to do to prove I'm me, sport? Hold your hand while you look deep into my black eyes, all while I recount one of our many fond memories together?"
"How'd you even find this place?" Sam said, not budging an inch. "We never told Meg about it or brought her here."
The side of Meg's mouth quirked as she started to mosey along the table, trailing her fingers over the books and scattered papers. "That's an interesting meatsuit Abaddon's wearing. Kinda comfortable and familiar. I think I might've worn its brother." She rolled her shoulders, lolling her head to look up at Sam across the way. The clench of his jaw, little half-step of motion; ooh, he really hadn't liked that.
Reluctantly he said, "Abaddon… damaged his anti-possession tattoo. She wants Crowley."
"I know. Why do you think I'm here, kiddo? She knew I hated that smarmy little prick. Especially given our last little chat together. Didn't expect to come back from that one, to be honest. Or for this meatsuit to still be more or less intact, just as I'd left it. But I figured, why look a gift resurrection in the mouth? See here I was thinking I was going to lie low, maybe find myself a private beach somewhere I could just sit out the next few apocalypses. Done my bit. Time to take it easy. Well, when the Queen of Hell calls, looks like you gotta pick up the blood puddle. Guess she figured you wouldn't be much for playing ball. That's why…" She was reaching into her leather jacket, and from it she pulled the demon-killing blade. The one that had been on Dean, and then—most recently—on Abaddon. Her smile was a brittle little thing, watching them all tense. "…she sent me in as backup. Kill Crowley. Problem solved. She reigns unopposed."
"You…" Sam started forward.
"Ah, ah, hold your moose-hooves. I didn't say I was going to do it. Don't get me wrong: I kind of like her style. But give me a little credit. Why else do you think I'm telling you?"
"Why not?" Castiel asked, his eyes narrowed. "If Crowley did in fact kill you, or attempted to, I would think you would be spurred by revenge."
"Oh Crowley's time is gonna come. And when it does I'm gonna shove this knife so far up his ass he's gonna taste my nail polish. But I don't need Abaddon handing him to me on a little platter like this. And it's not like I want Tweedle Dum over here on my ass for the rest of my life for leaving his brother to rot." She gave Castiel a sharp look. "What's with the smile?"
He gave a sheepish little head bob to the side, as he said in somewhat conspiratorial tones, "You decided not to betray us. Even though it might have been to your advantage to have the Queen of Hell indebted to you. You had plenty of time and opportunity to act before we got here, but you didn't. You're not scared of Sam. You like us."
"Shut up."
"Okay, I don't care how much she likes us. She still didn't explain how the hell she came back. And I'm not convinced it's her—it looked like that angel blade ripped right into her heart."
"An angel blade?" Castiel mused. "Muriel said… the works of Heaven were being undone. One of our blades would have purified her; essentially wiped away the sin and evilness of the twisted remains of her blackened soul."
"Hey!"
"It takes time after the initial contact. By Earth standards, it could take centuries. Given what we know of Meg, I imagine it might take quite a bit longer than most. If the process were interrupted, that could explain her return. She wouldn't be restored enough to enter Heaven as a purified soul."
"Is that what happens?" Kevin asked, looking stunned. "You mean all those demons you guys have been smiting…"
"Demons are still, at their roots, humans. The power of Heaven is forgiveness…" He considered for a moment, adding, "And wrath. But basically forgiveness. Now that demon-blade Meg's wielding, on the other hand: it's not so forgiving."
Sam decided they could all sit around and talk about the metaphysics of dispatching monsters some other time. "Well that's one theory. We still can't really know it's her, and I can't risk her running around like that while we're still trying to find a way to save Dean."
"There might be a way…" Castiel said, stepping towards her. "I can no longer see demons' faces, but I might still be able to recognize the basic energy pattern of her soul. Or what's left of it. Where was the angel blade impact made?"
"First thing's first: gimme back the knife, then we'll talk about her… energies," Sam said, his face twisting on the word like it was a piece of gristle that had gotten stuck in his teeth.
Meg gave a sour little smile, but she slid the knife to him across the table and pulled out a chair to sit down in front of Castiel. She pulled her shirt collar to the side a bit, revealing a large black wound on her chest over her heart. The wound looked like an impact site, with long tendrils of darkness stretching out like cracks across her skin. Castiel paused, putting one hand on her shoulder as though to brace her, before settling his other palm over the injury. Meg grunted in discomfort, squirming a little. "Well if you were gonna feel me up like this, the least you could do is buy me dinner, first."
"Is it her?" Kevin asked. He was standing with his super-soaker at the ready to douse her with holy water, if necessary.
"It's demonic. But… clearly the purification process had begun. There's damage, here." He looked at her a little more sharply. "Can you leave that vessel?"
She sulked, avoiding eye contact. "What's the matter, Clarence, don't like my outfit anymore? And here I thought you were all about that blah-blah inner beauty crap."
"Answer the question," Sam snapped.
Meg glared, finally stating, "No. I can't smoke out. Are we done here? Did I pass your test? Unless you wanna move your hand down a little further, Clarence, and give 'em a real show." She rolled her shoulders suggestively, arching her back a bit. Sam cleared his throat, loudly.
"It's her," Castiel confirmed, letting go of her for the most part, but allowing his hand to linger on her shoulder a moment. "And she's given us a useful tool."
"It won't kill Abaddon, but it'll slow her down," Sam agreed, a little grudgingly. He still looked uncomfortable, finally asking, "So you saw…?"
"Who, Abaddean?"
Well that portmanteau could just go straight to hell. "How'd he look?"
Meg tilted her head up, her jaw clenching a little in a tight smile. "You really want me to answer that, Sam?" His gaze didn't waver, and finally she dipped her head in acknowledgment, standing up and crossing her arms. "She's riding him pretty rough. Making what I put you through look like cuddles and puppies. But she goes more for the psych-out than anything else, from what I can tell. He's still in one piece," she clarified, "but she's leaving bits and pieces of other people behind." Meg considered, adding, "He's fighting it. He must've wrestled back control at least once, because he's got half a devil's trap carved in his arm. But who knows. Maybe she let him take over for a minute just to watch him writhe like a worm on her hook. All I really know is that when I saw him he was good and impaled."
Sam held onto the chair-back in front of him. He felt like he might throw up. It was difficult to be certain whether it was the thought of what Abaddon was putting his brother through or just the general malaise he'd been suffering from lately, but it felt soul-deep. And just so wearying. "We don't have a lot of options, here," he said to the room. "We'll just have to make the trade."
After a beat Meg demanded, "…That's it? You've had this long to think things over, and that's the best you can come up with? Gee, Sam, you really are the brains of this operation, aren't ya."
"What choice do we have?" Sam snapped. "She'll be expecting a trap. Cas blasted away the angel in our corner—sorry, okay, I know you didn't have a choice there. But still."
"There might be another angel who could assist us," Castiel said, not looking at Sam. "But I cannot say how useful that would be. Purifying Abaddon would still undoubtedly kill Dean."
"All we'd need is a way to immobilize her long enough to exorcise her," Kevin said. "I'm guessing the bullet trick won't work."
Sam was indeed somewhat opposed to shooting his brother. "And she'll have scouted out any location we might name to make sure we don't lay down a devil's trap. If a big one would even work on her; she'd probably just crack the concrete or wood around it to destroy its integrity."
"I'm leaning towards stabbing her in the face to slow her down," Meg suggested.
Sam was getting desperate, giving the demon a sidelong glance. "If I had my psychic powers…"
"There are other ways, Sam," Castiel cut him off.
"Maybe there's a spell?" Kevin said. "You guys were telling me that one witch in Indiana immobilized a leviathan for a few days without much of a problem."
"I'm not familiar with such an incantation."
"Maybe not," Sam said, grimly. "But we might know someone who is. And you know, I think he might be feeling talkative when I explain the alternatives to him." They were all quiet, exchanging disgruntled looks. But they had to acknowledge that this was an option that should at least be explored.
Softly, Meg muttered, "Damn it."
So maybe I'm playing a little bit with the canon by saying they're saving the demons' souls when they're smiting them; so sue me.
No please don't sue me. I'm broke. You won't get anything, I promise.
I also really wished I could've seen Meg and Abaddon interacting in the series; I think they would've had a great dynamic. I couldn't really show it here because I'm thoroughly convinced Dean's in a very bad situation right now, and describing that would've spoiled the fun of them meeting for me, just a little bit.
Also, tiny confession, but I absolutely adore Meg with Castiel. Even getting past the romantic connection, their friendship just seemed really sweet and unexpected. I liked that. I miss that.
Anyway, to everyone who's reviewed, thank you so much! I always appreciate the feedback.
