Summary: With the warehouse burned down and Adam lost, Eve swears revenge. As Meg struggles to recover from the venom, the Winchesters and Castiel put into action a plan to keep the monsters confused.

Part 9: Falling (When Angels Choose)
Part 1

The night was bitter cold, somehow made more forbidding by the lack of moonlight and the overcast dark sky. Standing in a clearing surrounded by massive old trees, with the bodies of the demons at her feet, Eve swayed on her feet and tried to understand what she was feeling. Her latest brood of monsters, half-turned and failing because she couldn't devote her focus to them, lay in heaps of smoke and ruined flesh. The souls of the bodies were gone by now, leaving empty vessels, but she had no interest in them at all. She could only stare out at the trees, at the starless sky, and feel empty.

Darkness seemed to stretch out before her, like a long, dim tunnel, and she reached down to touch her stomach in an unconsciously protective movement. She had long since released what remained of her children and they were outside of her body, but this was a stronger sense of emptiness.

Eve felt hollow.

"Something is wrong," she whispered as her hand turned over and clenched into a fist. Eve's face twisted into a scowl as she sucked in a deep breath and began to edge herself back towards the nearest tree for support. She managed to move three, four, five steps before a flash of heat went through her body from head to toe and she gasped at the sensation it brought, one that forced her to her knees.

Adam was gone.

Eve felt it through to the core of her being, as if someone had taken a jagged blade and sawed it through her flesh and into her very soul. The demon that was still trapped in this body screamed in pain with her. It was an agony that felt like it was crawling within her to gnaw at inner flesh and all she could do was lower her head to her knees and cry out at it. The feeling cut into her even deeper as seconds passed and then agony moved through her entire body until all she knew was pain and loss.

"He's gone."

That other piece of her, one that had stayed strong despite the distance, now felt like it had been severed from her, gouged out and dragged into a fire. Completely torn away from her.

Eve threw her head back and screamed in fury.

"Such vigilance. Hovering like you are." There was a rustle of bags and the sound of a chair being moved close. "It must be that guardian angel mystique you love so much."

With a startled jerk, Castiel woke from his doze to see Death sitting in the shadows on the other side of Meg's bed. He twisted around on the armchair where he had slipped down to get comfortable, his feet landing to the ground with a heavy thud as he made ready to leap up. His arms tightened around Nyx, who was sprawled out on his chest, and he eyed the angel sword just out of his reach. Castiel's fingers curled around her soft body as she murmured in her sleep and clung tighter to him, and he swallowed down the bile in his throat, not sure what else to do.

When faced with Death, he was helpless.

There was a bored look that made him think that maybe Death wasn't here to do his daily work. When the entity sat back in his chair and crossed his legs with the casual air of someone on a social call, Castiel looked down at Nyx as she sleepily mumbled and her eyes fluttered a little.

"Shh, go back to sleep," he muttered and this time used his Grace to gently lull her back into it. She yawned and immediately fell back asleep. Castiel smoothed his hand over her back and looked up to see Death staring at the little girl.

"You've adapted to being a father again well, Castiel. Very much beyond my expectations."

The angel didn't answer and Death waved his hand.

"It's a matter of…. Well, your kind were never meant to reproduce, not really since there were so many of you created at once. So perhaps those three years did you some good." His thin lips pulled into a smile. "The demon, on the other hand? She—"

"Don't touch her," Castiel warned and Death gave him an unimpressed eye-roll.

"Please. If I had intended on killing either you, then I would have done so easily. Or taken that little girl out of your arms." He still didn't move from where he sat beside Meg but instead leaned over to remove a sandwich from the paper bag he had set on the bed. "Take the girl into the next room, if you will. She's not quite ready to see me yet and such explanations wouldn't be something you aren't allowed to know either."

Castiel's eyes darted to Meg.

Seeing his almost desperate look, as if he was afraid she would vanish, Death sighed. "Do get a move on, will you? I have things to do today."

Trying hard not to wake Nyx again, Castiel cuddled her close as he stood up from the chair and shuffled over to the connecting door. He looked over his shoulder but, except for unwrapping his sandwich, Death hadn't moved. Knowing he could be risking a lot in trusting such a creature as Death, Castiel turned away and knocked on the Winchester's door. When no one answered, he opened the door to see Sam asleep in an armchair too small for him, TV still blaring and his head crooked uncomfortably to the side.

Sprawled on one of the beds, Dean was talking in his sleep and occasionally kicking his one leg out. Not sure what else to do, Castiel gently deposited Nyx in the spare bed and tucked her and her stuffed toy under the heavier comforter. She didn't wake; not when he made sure the pillows surrounded her or when he touched her hair. Castiel hesitated for only a few more moments before he stood and backed away.

Shutting the connecting door tight, he locked it and sat back down to stare at Death and Meg in turn.

Death wasted no time. "She's dying. In a way."

It was said so bluntly that Castiel had no response and as if to accent his point Death waved his sandwich at him. The smell of onions and steak somehow overwhelmed the sulphur and sweat smell of the room.

"It isn't your fault or even the fault of the Winchesters. Monsters have always been unpredictable and when they begin to evolve? Well." Death broke off a piece of the sandwich. "They do have the ability to surprise."

Castiel still didn't answer as he watched Death pop the piece into his mouth and begin to chew, though he squirmed a little when those dark eyes fixed on him with unwavering intensity.

"Out of sheer curiosity, why did you think I had you hide the demon in the first place?"

"A morbid sense of humour. Likely because you were bored."

Death brushed a crumb off of his trousers. "You are trying to be awfully glib when speaking to the one person who could decide whether she lives or dies."

Castiel looked to the side, jaw clenched and hands in fists. "Then why are you even bothering to ask about that? It was painful and you know it."

"Self interest. I always find it amusing how your kind and the humans perceive what is meant to happen." He set his sandwich on the paper bag and leaned close to look in Meg's half-open but catatonic eyes. "This has happened before to her, did you know that? It's not exactly new, this sort of… sleep. The last one was a product of the Lethe; this is something more earthy, I suppose you could say."

Castiel trembled, about to speak, but Death was already continuing.

"That doesn't mean too much, all things considering." Putting his hand on the mattress beside Meg's head, he didn't touch her but still Castiel had to bite his tongue not to yell at him to get back. "She knew exactly what she had to do. The loyalty of a demon; it isn't often something you would expect but when demons are loyal they remain so for as long as it is in their natures. Much like angels, I suppose. Monsters on the other hand? Their natures tend to evolve and sometimes that evolution is… shaky at best."

"Did you have a point?" Castiel demanded, exhaustion and pain making his voice low.

"Monsters were created to balance the humans. Humans are, after all, like locust."

"Yeah, I've heard that before though I don't agree," he grumbled sarcastically but Death ignored him.

"And demons balance angels. It is quite entertaining to watch you all."

Castiel didn't answer; instead he leaned forward and reached out to take Meg's hand. Her fingers stayed limp in his for several long minutes, until finally she squeezed back and he felt her dig her nails into his flesh. Death watched while he finished his sandwich and he raised both brows at the way Castiel murmured to her. Finally he cleared his throat and gave the angel an unimpressed look.

"Still? After three years apart, Castiel? Three years spent as either a human or a redeemed angel? You still feel so strongly? As if that night years ago didn't happen?" he asked. Though he knew Death meant it rhetorically, Castiel looked away from Meg to glare at him.

"You did that. You manipulated me."

"No, I think you'll find you did that." Death smirked. "The first time you two met, you shifted something. As bad as when you met Dean and Sam Winchester." The smirk turned to near disgust. "Impossible creatures. Here I was going to enjoy a calm existence, doing my work, and you all have been so very, very difficult."

Recovering that part of him that had learned all about fighting back with words, Castiel gave Death as cruel a smile as he could. "Are you just here to talk me to death?"

"Well, considering all the ways you've died, Castiel, that would be a first. Hardly original though." He stood and tapped his fingers on his chin as if debating something. "All the things this demon has done and you still want to save her somehow and I believe she knows that; she's not in that deep a coma, you know. She's perfectly aware of us both right now, even when in that hazy world she's slipped into to heal. Would you bargain with me for her life, or would you let me take her? What if she longs for death, considering the alternative if she doesn't heal?"

"I want her to live." Castiel swallowed deeply. A part of him want to plunge ahead, declare he wanted her alive and forget the consequences. But then he looked at her face, at the angel sword, and knew that taking that choice away from her would be no better than three years ago, when he had been so desperate to save her he had been willing to suffer the pain it caused. "But I would do what she asked of me."

"Good. That is the first step. It would help, I suppose, to tell you that I was never here to Reap your demon in the first place. I was here to see the changes this new type of infection would put into a demon. And if some demons are strong enough to fight back." Ignoring the way Castiel glared at him, Death picked up his black bag and set it on the bed. "You think I was cruel, telling you to do what you did years ago?"

The angel looked away. "I don't know anymore."

"Demons and angels. A child of both to suffer such parents. One had known human emotion and frailty and learned to bury it, the other never had been able to experience it. You had to learn to be human, Castiel, otherwise there would be no point. You being human has done you a world of good, I think, as it has every angel. Certainly it humbled you. Your daughter needed more either total, blind devotion because of circumstance or the inability to keep oneself out of trouble." He walked around and paused. "I'm referring to Meg being the one with the inability to keep herself out of trouble but on second thought it does apply to you as well."

"If you aren't here to help me or take Meg, then why are you here?"

"I told you. To see what it is doing. The venom won't kill her." Death gave him a ghastly grin. "That should please you."

Castiel looked down at Meg. "You're saying she'll heal."

"Maybe. Maybe you should let the demon fight the beast the way she would if she were uncaged."

Castiel glanced back but Death was gone, leaving him alone with Meg. He reached for the angel sword and let the blade rest against his palm as he stared at her. The metal warmed instantly to his touch of Grace. Meg's eyes had shut finally and she was taking deeper breaths, as if she'd fallen into a deeper finally.

Staring at the wound on her neck, he reached out and ran his hand over her arm. The low hiss of the radiator was sending hotter drafts through the room but he still felt the cold clamminess of her skin. The slow tracks of poison, spreading out to cover just the edge of the wound, were turning black now but seemed sluggish, no longer as pulsing and deadly.

Unable to bear the heat in the room, he walked over to the window and cracked it open to let in a fresh blast of cold air. It barely made a difference in the stifling and foul-smelling room. Castiel turned, coming back to the side of the bed to look down at Meg. The venom's work had turned her skin a sickly glow, but he thought for the first time he saw a more natural look to her now.

"Meg. What can I do to get you to fight?" he asked as he put the sword back down on the table and pressed his hand to her forehead.

Eyes turning brighter blue, he released a soft push of Grace into her that sent the demon roaring back to life beneath the surface of her skin. She gasped and her eyes flew open to stare into his, more aware than before.

Maybe there was a chance. If only she would actually fight what was trying to change her.

Sitting down on the bed beside her, Castiel pulled her into his arms so that she lay across his lap a little, his arms trapping hers as he raised his legs so she rested between them. Meg twisted weakly against him and made a low moan at the pain it caused. But she seemed more awake than before and he saw her mouth struggling to work. Castiel ran his hands down her arms to cup her by the back of the neck and he brought her closer

"This might hurt," he whispered against the top of her head and he heard her take a deep breath. She nodded and shifted into his arms.

"Okay."

The only sound in the room was the low whimper she let escape as he began to gently trickle Grace into her, and Castiel closed his eyes at the agony in her voice. Her nails dug into his arms as she struggled to break free when the angelic light burned too hot in her body, legs kicking uselessly against his. Mouth just touching her forehead, Castiel felt a shadow of her pain when her power slowly began to fight back against the monster venom and Grace that were hurting the demon.

It hadn't surprised either of the brothers to find that Castiel had put Nyx back with them and they'd been able to figure out what he was doing in that room with the demon. He wanted to be alone with Meg, and, as Sam pointed out, maybe he was managing to heal her. Dean hadn't been as optimistic but he'd smiled for Nyx's benefit. He had ultimately resolved himself to being a babysitter when she started following him around and asking thousands of questions about what he was doing. Sam had slyly encouraged her just enough that she hadn't stopped even when Dean had asked her to give him a break and he'd decided that getting her breakfast was the perfect way to keep her quiet.

Perfect in theory.

Dean spooned a bit of instant oatmeal onto his spoon and made a whirring sound as he pushed it towards Nyx's small mouth. She glared at him as he ineffectively jabbed the oatmeal towards her, but her lips were sealed and, short of smearing her with oatmeal, he was stuck. Making a face back at her, he made another whirring sound as he tried to push it towards her again.

"Come on, Nyxie, open up for the airplane."

The way she managed to glare at him with such an adult look was too much like Castiel, he thought, and he made louder airplane noises.

"She's not a baby, Dean," Sam said as he came out of the bathroom, still towelling off his hair.

"Not a baby, Dean," Nyx echoed.

"She's going to be a starving baby in a minute," Dean muttered. "Well, what should we feed the little princess?"

"Are you even hungry, Nyx?" Sam asked and she shook her head. He looked at his brother. "There, problem solved."

"Fine." Dean waved the spoon at her. "But don't you come running to me complaining about how hungry you are later, got it?"

Nyx frowned. "Want momma, don't want yucky food."

"She needs to sleep, kid. And this isn't yucky. I microwaved it myself," Dean said as he popped the oatmeal into his mouth. The taste was like liquid cardboard. Forced to swallow it, he lost the battle and made a disgusted face as he stuck his tongue out. Nyx was watching him, mimicking his facial gestures as he tried to not give up how he felt eating it. Eventually, he dropped the spoon back into the bowl. "Okay, I don't blame you. This tastes like sh…" He stopped himself when he noticed she was listening. "Shipworms."

Sam chuckled at his weak save.

Dean moved from the table and tapped the spoon on the bowl, the thick sludge gooey as he dumped it in the sink. Immediately, Nyx was beside him and tugging at his jeans. Muttering under his breath, he boosted her up onto the counter beside him so he could keep an eye on her as he washed the rest of the oatmeal down the sink. She swung her legs back and forth, anxiously looking at the connecting door.

"She's sick."

"Yeah. She'll be okay though," Sam said, ruffling her hair as he passed and grabbed his wallet to count out some bills for another food run. "And we can't stay around that much longer. I'm running out of cash."

Dean nodded, helped Nyx back down, and then sidled up close to his brother. "You heard anything from in there?"

Pocketing the last of the fifties, Sam shook his head. "Not a thing. Almost afraid to check."

"All right. We give a few more hours, then we…."

A loud moan from the other room made them both look. Nyx stared at the door and Dean quickly turned on the television. "You stay here, kid. Watch some cartoons and be good. Okay? No moving an inch. You move and you eat oatmeal for the rest of your life."

She rolled her eyes but snuggled down on the motel bed to watch cartoons, though both brothers could see how mutinous she was feeling. Dean made sure the front door was locked before he followed Sam into the other room. He kept the connecting door cracked open so he could keep an ear out for her but Nyx was already pulling her drawings over so that she could colour. Sam nudged him in the side to get his attention and Dean turned to watch the demon on the bed.

Meg's arms were bound together and tied to the frame and she was arching her back as she tugged at it. As they watched, she would moan and twitch, her head still lowered as her legs stretched up to go under her. The pose was awkward and her neck jutted to the side, exposing the wound on her neck. The old undershirt and boxers she'd been dressed in were stained dark with old blood and sweat.

"Wonder what her and Cas were getting up to with the bondage, huh?" Dean muttered jokingly and Sam shook his head.

"Looks like she's in no shape for anything like that. Still smelling that venom in here," he said. Suddenly her head turned a little towards them as if their voices had woken her up. "Meg?"

"She's still somewhat coherent," Castiel said suddenly and they both turned to see him unfolding himself from the armchair behind them. "It comes and goes."

"What's with the tie-up, Cas?" Dean eyed the belt that encircled Meg's wrists.

"She's been scratching at the wound when unconscious." Castiel shrugged and moved forward to unbind her arms. "It was easier than letting the wound bleed." Feeling him lean over her, Meg's eyes opened and she swallowed heavily. Castiel made a comforting sound and leaned down closer to hear her. "What's wrong?"

"Still thirsty."

Sam went to get her something from the mini-bar, but Castiel shook his head at him. "I don't think that's wise. What's infecting her I think is making her thirsty."

"For…" Dean left it open-ended.

"Not water," the angel said morbidly.

Meg groaned and rested her head back down. "Maybe we can change my blood out. I could so use some vampire personal service with the biting and sucking," she slurred. The random comment meant nothing to either Winchester but Castiel's jaw tensed a little. Dismissing the strange knot of jealousy that settled in his stomach, he leaned down on the bed to look at the mark. He heard her grumble something before she tucked in closer against his body as if his warmth was what she wanted now.

"It's getting worse?" Sam asked.

"Something's up with it," Dean said as he bent close to look at Meg's face. "She's looking a little rough."

Her head turned quickly toward him with her teeth bared as she snarled at him. Dean yelped out a curse and leapt back from the bed. Castiel rolled his eyes as Meg chuckled weakly and let her head rest back against the angel's arm.

"The infection." Castiel ran his hand over the wound and heard her murmur for him to stop. "It is still there; no longer as uncontrolled but it is changing a little. She's getting tired from fighting it and using my Grace doesn't seem to be working as well as it should."

"Does it hurt?" Sam was staring at her now and Meg's eyes widened so she could focus on him.

"A little."

Castiel brushed his hand over her cheek and sighed. "Come on, you need to rest."

Meg giggled and they all wondered at the absurd sound coming out of the demon. Standing to the side, Dean kept an eye on the door but he shuddered at the sound anyway. It was so unnatural from Meg.

"Is she high?" he asked when he heard her giggling again as Castiel turned her a little, fingers grazing her sides.

"The venom seems to have some sort of euphoric side effect before it reaches another peak," Castiel explained as he pulled a sweat-soaked sheet from under Meg. He'd turned the heat down and cranked on the air so that the room was cold, a failed effort to try to dry the constant sheen of sweat on her body. As hot her flesh was, she seemed to be longing for heat and he wasn't sure if she needed to have her fever kept down or if she needed to be wrapped up.

He felt the demon stretch out and shudder. "Meg, how bad is it getting?"

She stared at him, her face suddenly very serious and grave. Castiel stared back, unable to look away from her black eyes. His concern started to grow with each moment she didn't say a word, with every second that she just stared at his face.

Then Meg reached out and touched his nose with her finger.

"Boop."

He blinked at her and Dean snorted to hide his chuckle.

Groaning, Meg turned in his arms. "Need to move."

"No," he murmured. "You'll hurt yourself."

"Too cold. Too hot." She fidgeted and he watched her body twist as she tried to get her shirt off. Reaching out, he touched her hand and forced her to stop. He wrapped the top sheet around her, and then looked at Dean.

"Give me a moment."

The Winchesters both nodded and turned their backs on him.

Meg groaned and leaned into Castiel as he peeled the undershirt off of her and changed it for a large flannel shirt he'd stolen from Sam. "I'm tired."

"I only punctured the sores an hour ago. You need to stay awake while it drains again," he warned as he lifted the gauze on her neck completely off. "Can you do that?"

"I need to sleep," she muttered.

"Stay awake. Talk to us."

"Why?"

He hesitated. "Because this is going to hurt worse than before."

"Than before what?" Looking over his shoulder, Sam eyed the way Castiel was touching the dark red sores on her neck. "Cas, what exactly have you been doing in here?"

"I told you. I've been using my Grace to try to help her. It can only work so much though."

Meg turned over on the bed away from them, fingers opening a little to release the bed sheet. Her eyes closed and she gave a deep sigh before she seemed to fall back into a tense doze.

"Meg?"

"She's still wanting to sleep, huh?" Dean turned and watched Castiel lay his palm on her forehead.

"She's cold, but her skin is hot in patches," the angel said. She groaned and turned her head into the contact, as if Castiel's touch was soothing her.

"So she's turning?" Both brothers watched Castiel draw her lips up to expose her teeth and he checked her pulse before he shook his head.

"Not exactly." He wiped his hands on the sheet. "From what I understand, Adam didn't infect her to that point that another soul infested her. The infection…the poison can still kill her. She was fighting, but she's tired and needs help."

Dean took a seat on the bed and made a face at the dampness of the sheets. "We can't stay here forever, Cas. Sooner or later, we have to get back to the bunker or somewhere safer."

"Dean's right, Cas. If Adam is dead, then it's a pretty safe bet that Eve will go on a rampage and we'll need to be ready for that." Sam hesitated. "With or without Meg."

The angel didn't answer him for a while, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest. Eventually, he sighed and shook his head. "I know." He rubbed his hand over his jaw. "But we can't leave her. I can't."

"We don't know how long this could take. And if she loses, Cas, it's a pretty real possibility we're going to have to take care of her another way."

Castiel nodded but his reply was half-hearted. "If we have to."

"We might. But for the sake of that little girl and you, we should try to do something else," Sam said, glaring at Dean. His brother sighed.

"So what do we do? Not really many books on demon holistic care."

"No, there's not." Castiel shifted his weight from foot to foot. "But all we have are old methods and exorcisms."

"You want to do something to the demon in the meatsuit. Is that even possible with Meg?" Dean stood up and moved to stand in front of the angel. "Why would you even want to?"

"She isn't her meatsuit, Dean. I never looked on her as a human." He shook his head. "Whatever happened in the Lethe, bound her to the body once the soul had left. Without her, the body is dead. But the demon needs to fight back, trying to exorcise her may-"

"-force her to fight." Sam made an odd sound. "Sort of like what we did to Crowley years ago?"

"It doesn't make the best of plans. But the venom lets a monster's soul in. It needs to attach to a demon's or it doesn't work, I think. The infection however is different." The angel shrugged.

"Like old medicine. Drawing poison out of the wound," Sam explained to Dean as he ran his hand over his jawline. "It is like exorcising her right?"

"Any exorcism has a way of enraging the demon. It causes their survival instinct to come out, it is why they often heal fast and are able to get away if it never completes."

"Makes sense. Humans get the same way. Adrenaline, that sort of thing," Dean agreed.

"It is going to hurt her," Castiel muttered, clearly not like the idea he had spent the better part of the morning puzzling over. "But something has to be done."

"What are we going to do with Nyx, then?" Dean looked pointedly at the connecting door. "Because if this is going to be messy and loud…." With a hesitant look at his brother, who nodded, he nodded back. "Sam and I got this."

Castiel looked at Dean and Sam. "I need to do this."

"No."

"You think I'll be crippled by human emotion, by empathy? This is necessity and I am an angel. I can do this" His voice was low with anger. "It won't be easy, I'm sure."

"You know that things get worse, Cas, when you care about the person you have to hurt." Dean uneasily looked away from Sam. "You might think you'll be okay but when she starts to scream or starts to beg… it will be another story. Whatever purification you think can help, to get the poison out, that won't be easy. Let us do this."

There was something in the way Castiel hesitated that made Sam give an understanding nod. "You think we won't stop until she's dead."

"It's crossed my mind." He ignored Dean's insulted glare. "Neither of you has much reason to care what happens to her."

"Things change. She helped us, we're helping her," Dean said. "So we're going to go get some supplies and by the time we get back here, you'll have a list of what you want us to do and then you're gone with Nyx until I call you, you got it?"

Castiel met his gaze with his own narrowed look before dropping it away. "Very well but if…."

"Come on, Sam," Dean said before the angel could finish. "We need some herbs and supplies to get through this if it is anything like Crowley's mess. We'll take Nyx with us for now, then Cas gets her full-time."

Giving his friend a sympathetic smile, Sam followed Dean back into the other room.

Once the door clicked shut, Castiel's shoulders slumped and he stared despondently at the floor as he composed himself. It was still hard to feel helpless. But the offer of help from the Winchesters, even if unexpected, had calmed him a little.

Grabbing a pen and notepad from the bed's nightstand, Castiel took a seat on the floor beside the bed and quickly scribbled out the spells and invocations he could think of. It would force the demon to come back to the front, a way of exposing her by threatening her death and more pain. Essentially creating a fight or flight instinct that would force her to wake up from the effects of the poison. The fact that he trusted Dean and Sam to stop before any real damage was done was something he clung to.

He made sure not to finish writing the execution spell's final lines though.

When the incantation was written, he folded it up and put it on the table beside the bed. Castiel ran his hand over the damp bed sheet to brush Meg's arm with his fingertips. In reaction, her eyes opened a little to stare at him, looking tired but clear. Even though the air conditioning was on high, he could smell the venom and sour sweat lingering on her skin.

"It still hurts?" he asked and as if to answer she reached up to itch at the mark. "No. Don't do that."

"Who-who gets first dibs on killing me? You get to do it?" she croaked as he gently took her hands away from her neck, and he sighed.

"No one is killing you, Meg. Least of all me. Have some faith."

"Hope and faith are for little girls, Cas. I'm tired."

He used the bed sheet to wipe the sweat off her face. "You can fight. I know you can."

"Yeah… sure."

"You know what they are going to do?"

"Same thing I would do," she laughed, "or not. False exorcism?"

"Something like that. It is just to give you some strength. You need to fight the venom. You aren't turning but you aren't healing either."

He watched her eyes roll and wondered if she actually did trust the Winchesters to stop. She began shaking and he stood from the bed, ready to do more to help her. His Grace had helped cleanse some of her. The fever wasn't as strong as before, the pentagrams and wards he'd drawn on her body underneath the shirt actually strengthening the demon as well. He'd never thought he would ever use the symbols to actually keep a demon in and strong. It seemed so… so…

Wrong.

It was still hard to completely forget centuries of training and belief. He had always been ordered to exorcise and banish demons. It didn't matter how many years had passed, that instinct still sometimes screamed at him to think twice about what he was doing.

He ignored it anyway for what he felt now. Once again he wanted to keep her with him because he simply wanted it to be that way.

Castiel stayed staring at her, never moving, as she dozed in and out of a fever dream.

When Dean and Sam returned after an hour, Nyx waiting in the next room, he made sure to look long and hard at Meg as if to etch her to memory. Dean patted his shoulder and with a not-too subtle shove directed him towards the door. He closed the door on the hunters and the demon, well aware of the weight of trust he was putting on them, and turned to face the little girl who stared up at him so trustingly.

The brothers made sure to wait until they felt the tell-tale rush of Castiel leaving before Sam began drawing wards on the wall. He did it slowly, sketching the chalk lines with careless ease, before he looked around to see Dean crushing the herbs in the small mixing bowl. Dean had been commanding before but now was silent since they had decided to try Castiel's plan on Meg.

"I don't like this anymore than you do, Dean," he said finally and he watched him slam the bowl down.

"No, I don't think you get me on this, Sammy." Dean folded his arms across his chest. "Everything we've had to do for Meg, with Meg… does it ever strike you as wrong?"

"Because of what she's done in the past, right?" Sam dusted off his hands and stared at the demon. She had rolled onto her side and was apparently listless, fingers drawing circles on the sheets. "You think Dad would come back to haunt us for helping a demon again?"

"Times change. This world, the world we are in right now? With all these angels, demons, wars in Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory? This world is nothing like the one he lived through." Green eyes suddenly cold, Dean looked at the demon. "She did pretty terrible things."

"I get it, I do. I mean, when she possessed me, I rode right along side her, felt everything she did to you, to the hunters, to Jo." Sam fidgeted. "And I also got to feel what it was to actually be a piece of her."

"Stockholm logic, here, Sam?"

"Not really. I doubt anyone understands Meg, but she's nothing without a purpose, we both know that." Sam sat down close to Dean on the dresser and leaned close so they couldn't be overheard. "Do you remember when Cas brought her back from the Lethe that first time?"

"Vaguely."

"She begged us to kill her. Threw herself at us even to try to get us to stab her."

"So that means what?"

"That maybe this world is punishment enough to her. Afterlife means nothing to her, Dean. That's already been taken away." Sam cleared his throat. "There's one other big thing you're forgetting."

Dean rolled his eyes and looked at him.

"Bad as she was and still can be, Meg makes a better ally than an enemy. Losing her won't help Cas or Nyx either. Tough as he is, Cas cares about her, Dean." Sam sucked in a deep breath. "He loves her, maybe more than we figured."

"So that means…"

"That she probably thinks you idiots are saps," Meg said suddenly and they both looked to see her slowly pushing up to sit the bed. Her dark hair hung in clumpy tangles around her face and she sleepily looked at them both.

"You're awake," Dean said as he dragged Ruby's knife against the wood table, etching another mark.

"Never really slept. Sort of coma girl versus non-coma, you know? Feel like I'm getting the worst reception I've ever had: I keep fading in and out." She rubbed at her face, fingers going to the gauze covering her neck.

"Then you know what we're going to do," Sam began and she shook her head. "Not really?"

She sat back and her head thudded against the headboard hard. "Look, if you are planning on doing the stabbing thing, make it quick at least."

Dean eyed her. "You're awfully positive."

"Realist, boys." Dark eyes opening slow, she grinned. "Why do you think that nice big monster was torturing me?"

"He wanted Nyx."

"That's part of it." She shrugged a shoulder and the plaid shirt fell to the side a bit more, exposing skin turning a little blue from the cold. "Why else? Use those itsy bitsy human brains." With almost vicious delight, she focussed on Dean. "Or past experience."

"He wanted you weak."

"Good job, Bingo." Meg was panting for breath now, as if just the mere act of talking was tiring her. "The other demons that submitted, it would be because of fear, sex, anger or greed. It's an old technique. Good one too and I figured it out when those shifters started playing with matches. You find a weak point and you rip until your victim comes apart at the seams."

"So what, yours was Nyx?" Sam shook his head. "Or Cas? That's why you took it?"

She rolled her eyes and Dean, who had been watching her so closely, saw her frustration.

"It was pride." He felt her glare almost physically. "You took it because you thought you could. He wanted to break you down."

"Sometimes you tend to forget that the sins you're supposed to corrupt people with actually do make you a bit weak." She arched her back. "That and I couldn't let angelface show me up."

There was something flawed in her logic, both brothers knew it and with a subtle glance shared that thought between them.

"So. He's letting you babysit and try his holistic healing on me, huh?" Her eyes darted between them. "Right?" When neither of them answered she sighed and they watched the way she shuddered. "Let's get it over with."

Sam took her hands and held them gently to the side. "We're not going to exorcise you, Meg."

"You're peaches, big boy," she said dryly. "Just holy water and fire, right?"

"Don't take it personally," Dean said as he walked over to the bed and knelt beside her. "If we wanted you dead you already would be dead."

"That's so comforting I might puke from your sincerity," she drawled back. Dean thought he saw a real flicker of fear in her eyes.

"Hold her down," Sam ordered and Dean took hold of her arms. Meg whimpered as the curve of her neck was exposed.

"You think this will work?"

"Meg's been fighting it, but she needs the help."

The younger Winchester heard her teeth starting to chatter. "Meg?"

"Do it. I'm ready."

"Hope we are," he whispered before he dripped the holy water into her wound as Dean began to murmur the start of the exorcism. Sam murmured it in reverse at the same time and the conflicting chants began to cause Meg to howl in fury, her eyes black. As if in rhythm with her pain, the lights began to turn on and off as Sam held her legs down, her feet kicking the bed rapidly while both brothers began to work on her. The demon's body, small as it was, was stronger than them both and as Dean continued to murmur she continued to fight.

Her body pulled and twisted under their combined weight and Dean pushed his hand against her forehead to keep her head down as he reached the end of the first stanza. Meg's eyes opened again to fix on his face as her body sagged, the pause giving her relief. Sam breathed a sigh of relief and handed Dean the holy water again.

Dean and Meg stared at one another, their gazes connecting and holding for the longest moment. Eventually, he found himself putting his hand over her eyes to keep from having to look anymore. With Sam now speaking the first part of the incantation again, overlapping his brother's voice, Dean felt Meg's body coil as if ready to spring. Strong as he was, already Dean's muscles were aching from the effort of keeping her down.

Slowly, the fight in her changed from pain to a desperate attempt for survival, adrenaline making her even stronger. Both brothers closed their eyes as the inhuman roar of the demon filled the room. What she was now fought to save itself from death or from exorcism to a Pit it hated with all its being.

Knowing he couldn't keep her close to the motel where she would hear Meg's cries, Castiel took Nyx to the closest park. After a very careful study, to be sure there were no demons, angels, or monsters, he sat her down across from him at a picnic table. Nyx hadn't said very much since they had left, just held his hand very tight and looked up to him as if she expected him to give her answers. Now, sitting across from him, she looked too serious for such a small child and he nervously watched her as she stared at him. There were children screaming and playing, despite the way the late morning was turning cold. Castiel smiled and tried to look calm.

"You can play with them," he offered.

"Don't wanna." She looked nervously at the children as they ran around the playground near her. "I wanna go."

"We need to stay here for a little bit." He clasped his hands on the table and leaned forward. "Dean and Sam are going to help your mother."

"She's sick."

"Yes."

Nyx's blue eyes stared at his larger hands as if they were confusing her just by being there. Grumpily, she wiped at her face. "The bad monsters."

"Yes." Castiel gave her a small smile. "She'll get better, I promise."

"'Cause Dean and Sam are gonna save her." She seemed to accept that when Castiel hesitantly nodded. "I wanna go home. I miss Aunt Linda and Kevin." She drew a line in on the wood. "But Dean says Aunt Linda is in Heaven."

Castiel swallowed and had no better answer than a simple, "Yes."

She sighed. "Will mommy go there?"

"No."

Her eyes darted up. "'Cause she's diff'ent."

"Yes." The strange seriousness on her face intensified and Castiel watched her look away. "Because she's not going to die, Nyx."

"But mud monkeys get to go. Not fair."

The name made him reach out and tap the table. "Nyx, what did you just call them?" When she didn't answer and actually looked like she was scared he was going to yell at her, Castiel touched her hand and waited for her to look at him. "Nyx. How did you know what that meant?"

"Dean says they bad words," Nyx mumbled.

"He's right. Another angel used to say call them that. It wasn't very nice," Castiel said, remembering Uriel's fondness for putting down the humans. "We don't use words like those when talking about people, okay?"

Nyx nodded. "Okay. Angels are mean?"

He debated on lying but he somehow figured she would know if he did. "Some."

"Not Marv. He liked monkeys. Liked me." She licked her lips and her childish voice became almost sweet. "He's gonna come back."

"No, Nyx. He- he died. At the warehouse."

Rather than give him the big, teary eyes she had used when mentioning Linda, she shook her head. "That's silly. He's not dead. He talks to me. Like my friends."

It wasn't the first time he had thought she was talking about angels. Castiel ducked his head a little so he could look her in the eye. "Nyx? Do you hear angels in Heaven?"

As if he was stupid, she sighed heavily and shook her head. "No, silly."

"No." He smiled a little and straightened up. "No, of course not. That is silly."

"I hear my friends. They helped." She pushed her hair out of her eyes and nodded firmly as if that made all the sense in the world. "Said they were angels."

"Nyx, what angels?" When she shrugged and looked at the other children racing nearby, he started to ask another question when he felt the phone Sam had given him buzzing in his pocket. Cursing the bad timing, he looked away from the little girl to answer. "Dean?"

"We need a few more hours," Dean's voice was curt. "Did you take her for ice cream yet?"

"It's ten in the morning and she shouldn't have that much sugar," Castiel said, distracted by the question. "We've haven't been gone that long. How is Meg? I…" He nervously looked at Nyx. "We left at eight. It has been two hours."

"And Crowley barely weakened after how many? If you bring her back here, she has to stay in the other room, we clear?"

"Dean?" Noticing Nyx's curious gaze, he turned on the side and lowered his voice. "What is going on?"

He heard Sam muttering in Latin and a more guttural moaning.

"She's fighting, Cas." Dean sounded tired already. "Don't ask me how but… but she's fighting it again. After this next session, we're going to have to let her do the rest of the work. Give us till the afternoon. Then we'll decide what to do next."

Two days later…

There was nothing for the monsters, pure and mixed blood alike, to do after they had returned to Eve and found her lying in a pool of black blood in the forest clearing. With careful reverence, not wanting to hurt her, they had moved her to an abandoned cabin and set about watching over her for the slightest hope that maybe she would reawaken.

Something had happened to the Mother. To what the monsters knew, she had only been pulling more monsters out of Purgatory, continuing her attempts to nurture their souls by attaching them to the demons she had stolen from Hell and the humans who ventured too close. But since her collapse, all the plans had stopped and so many of her new children lay dying in the forest, unable to finish their strange rebirth.

The monsters themselves didn't know what to do to help her. The first blast of her pain and power had decimated the surrounding clearing and it had attracted some humans that the vampires had seen to. But besides that power, there was nothing to betray that she still remained in that body that was slowly decaying.

A werewolf had been standing watch when he saw her hands twitch and lift as if to grasp the air. Her eyes opened to reveal glowing red and orange orbs that focussed on the ceiling. The werewolf opened the door to the other guards and the entire group of monsters, for once working together, piled in to see if there was more to hope for. They had felt her pain and come back to protect her. What instinct they ran with now screamed that they needed her.

As if in a dreamy state, Eve sighed and rose from the cot. "Children." She reached out and touched the first werewolf's head and he sighed.

"We were worried, Mother."

"Don't be. I'm still here to watch over you all." Her face turned ugly though as she scowled. "I needed rest. Who knows what happened to the Father, to my other half?"

A vampire winced. "He was killed and we don't know how."

Eve growled and moved faster than he could dodge, hand lifting him close to her. "What do you mean?"

"He had captured the angel and the demon, but the Winchesters saved them with some help. He was lost in the fire," he choked out and she dropped him to the ground.

"He was more than some human, fire should not have killed him. Only an angel or a God could have killed him." She reached up to pat her scabbing skin. "They are going to pay for this. It is always those damn Winchesters."

"The rumour is that the Winchesters left Montana. The angel and demon with them."

"Where would they go?"

The werewolf behind her shifted. "They are seen in Kansas quite a lot."

Resisting the urge to howl her anger again and the desire to discipline them all, she turned away. "Then send out word. I am wanting my children to prove their devotion."

She winced as the pain inside of her twisted further, the hollow ache even stronger than before, and she lifted a shaky hand to her head. The monsters all nervously looked at each other, too terrified to say a word against her. She should have been weak but instead they could sense the anger inside of her. Broiling through her until they all felt touched by her power.

"I don't want the Winchesters yet. First I want the angel and the demon, I want their child, so that they pay for what was done to him."

Meg lay in a semi-aware state, her power caught between the snarl of thorns and the twist of something poisonous. Whatever power it was that dragged at her body, pulled at her with a growing intensity, roiled and turned. But the touch of Holy Water and Grace, the threat of exorcism, had been just enough to boil the darkness in her to a fury. Now the demon was stronger than a monster's venom, and eventually, even in her dreaming state, she knew that she would survive.

She was vaguely aware of someone moving her, of the pain of something that felt like torture, interspersed with moments of merciful peace. Instructions, telling her to stay calm, to let them do their work, only sent her deeper under. She needed rest, needed to be left alone, Meg was sure she even told them that. She was kept bound –she could feel the ropes—,and given something that made her sleep.

Through all of it, Meg could feel her demonic power fighting through the meatsuit and her soul, pushing away the parasitic venom that had tried to attach itself to her.

Whatever moved in her veins left slowly, like a poison being lanced repeatedly from a wound. The demon in her coiled and sprang, devoured the darkness furiously.

Then it was only her within the husk of her stolen, exhausted body. Nothing else lingered with her but a leftover ache from poison and torture.