In the Lethe Series 2

by teaandchess

Three years have past after the events of In the Lethe, when Castiel made his choice to save a demon and the Winchesters made theirs to save one other. All that Dean, Sam and Castiel have fought for to save friends, lovers and family has started to fall apart. Old enemies begin to stalk those that they love and so it comes down to a choice. It will always come down to a choice.

14. Thaw (When Angels Rest)

Summary: The tentative truce between Castiel and Meg continues as they hide from the hunters and monsters. With Azazel and Eve both looking for them, the plan they set into motion keeps their enemies distracted. Growing restless, Dean has an unusual visit that makes him more determined to protect Sam and those he considers family.

AN: I apologize for the delay on this. My original plan was to edit all of Lethe before reposting it to FF or AO3 but I've had to commit my time to another project. Apologies

---

Part 10: Thaw (When Angels Rest)

'Their enemies came and went. Angels and demons, witches and monsters, who cared? The Winchesters had faced them all. Dean knew what he was meant to do. In the end, he knew it would come down to family. It always was about family.'

Chuck tapped his arrow key again and again, watching the cursor slowly make its way over the document with those lines. He highlighted them, italicized and bolded them, even changed the font six times, as he stared at his screen and chewed over the best way to go on. These six lines had been written weeks ago and were still begging for a continuation. After deleting his last attempt, all except for those lines, he had sat at his desk from dusk until dawn for the past four weeks with nothing to show for it.

No epic story lines, no way of having Dean and Sam find a way to end the coming wars, or to find a way understand and protect each other. Even the angel and demon, even the new characters he'd brought in were not giving him any more inspiration. He wasn't even completely certain what to do with that little girl he kept seeing in his visions. Whenever he tried to manipulate the story, to play a trick, something kept him from writing about the blue-eyed girl in such a way. All of these characters and he was stalled. Monsters? Those were easy; he always had ways of making new monsters, but now he just didn't know what to do with such powerful creatures. Maybe he'd made them a bit too powerful.

That didn't change one big problem.

He was thoroughly stuck.

"Writer's block, you have to be goddamn kidding me. Writing's hard but this is just getting ridiculous," he mumbled to himself before pounding on random keys all at once as if hoping he would magically come up with some sentences that would make sense. When a mess of letters stared back at him, he groaned and clicked off the text file and checked his email for the twentieth time since he'd woken up this evening. Not the best distraction right now. Threats from publishers that he owed one last book in his contract, cajoling ego boosts from his new agent about how perfect his other writing was, and even one from poor Anya who was in hiding. At least, that's what he had imagined her to have left for; she had told him it was family troubles.

Then he scrolled down to forum messages off of his fan website and read it with increasing discomfort. Threats from people for his latest book, from fans demanding he finish the book series a certain way, love from those who just wanted more adventures, and even a few criticisms. The usual but today it rubbed his already shaky nerves raw.

Three years ago Chuck had once again been God, calmly in charge of a universe of his creating. Reawakened to power and knowledge. He had been creating and loving every moment of this new story and this new world he was just seeing glimpses of. Until that moment when the doors had slammed shut and left his imagination stagnant.

Now he was back to being what he'd been: a surly writer who wasn't sure about what he was writing and more than a little incomplete after forcing his hand. After Sheol had closed the gates to the Lethe there had been a resonating ache. He missed her, he would say whenever he was coherent enough to admit it. Not that anyone would care; even to Chuck she was a vague memory, a haunting ghost that lingered just at the corner of his mind and made him ache. He lost himself in imaginary worlds he thought he could completely control in his writing, drank himself into stupors for the sake of boredom, and had even taken enough medication for his headaches to be stoned at the best of his days.

He'd laughingly said to his therapist that his characters had moved on but he hadn't.

A new message suddenly dinged in his computer and he stared at the bolded subject line thoughtfully. He did recognize the sender. Few enough people had his real email and this wasn't even sent to his personal website.

"So, Kevin, what do you have for me now?" he asked, rubbing at his dry lips for a second before clicking.

The video link was of hunters, discussing the best way to hunt something they didn't know about, and the camera's position meant it had been done secretively. He watched, heard the name Winchester and then Cambion, and his ears perked up. A Cambion? That meant…

"It's not a Cambion, really," a skinny young man said. "I don't know what you'd call the kid."

"We should kill it," a heavier man said and the teenager beside him nodded.

"We don't go killing kids," Skinny snapped. "Ever."

"Why are the Winchesters putting up with it then? You said they were taking care of it."

"They are the best at this. Back off and let them handle it. Go hunt Wendigo in Texas. Leave this to the Winchesters."

The heavy man poked Skinny in the chest. "They'd better, Garth. We got screwed over by them and their angel friends enough. I'm not speaking for the others. You don't find new monsters to hunt that often; they'll see it as a challenge."

"Leave it alone."

The video feed clicked off and Chuck shrugged. "Don't see what that has to do with me."

He read the rest of the email. Kevin wanted to know how many more visions he'd have to suffer through, incomplete and twisted as they were, before Chuck would finally step in. The writer leaned back, scratching at his chin. Poor kid. Hadn't really been prepared for what he was. There'd been a few hopeful moments over the past few years but now it looked like Kevin was hurting again.

Despite what the kid thought, the Winchesters were good for him.

Chuck knew everything that had happened to Kevin thanks to the strange connection between them from years ago. His mother, the demons, the depression he was sinking into; all of it was like a nagging thought that he kept in the corner of his mind to be dealt with later.

Settling his weight back on his chair, Chuck read the last lines of 'would it kill you to help for once?' over and over again. It was obvious what Kevin was accusing him of. Chuck sighed and leaned his head back.

So easy to imagine soft hands going into his hair, soothing his anger as low words woke him up and forced him to think. Forced him to regret what had been necessary to save this world that he had loved more than most.

"I did what I had to do," Chuck said, opening his eyes to stare at his computer screen. He brushed his hand over his cheeks, stunned to feel tear tracks on them. He'd saved this precious creation but it didn't change something that had haunted him for all this time.

He missed her.

---

"Are you awake?"

The low voice rumbled in Meg's ear, a scratchy, familiar sound that was almost lazy, but all she did was continue to breathe deeply and ignore it a little. But the cold air of the room was already starting to intrude on that pleasant dozy feeling and set her skin tingling. Grumbling under her breath, she bumped herself back into the warmth that rested against her, felt an arm wrap around her waist and hold her as a scruffy cheek pressed to her shoulder.

Groggily, she stretched her legs a little, toes brushing hair-roughened legs as she sought more heat. That rumbling groan behind her sounded just as lazy as she felt. She reached down and brought the arm even closer around her, as if wrapping herself up in that warmth he was radiating.

Meg opened her eyes and stared at the worn old radiator curiously as it was something strange because for a moment she hadn't believed she could actually sleep again. Even when her demon side had been hidden, she had never really slept, chalking it up to insomnia. As a demon, it was rarer still. The realization that she had truly slept for the first time in years was so sudden that her eyes widened a bit though her body was still mostly asleep.

It was almost like three years ago, lying under a skylight and actually realizing how good it was to sleep.

Even her body felt heavy and listless, and it was almost blissful to close her eyes and drift off again. Muttering for him to let her sleep, she turned onto her stomach and sighed. It would be easy to just lie here and forget everything for a while longer, before the dreams and memories started invading her peace and quiet. She could use some quiet, she thought.

Then Meg felt rough lips travelling over her shoulder blades in slow hot trails. The rasp of a tongue peeking out, the feel of hands sliding up over her back, was enough to set her skin tingling. Moaning, she arched her back in a slow stretch that let her feel the press of him against her buttocks.

"You're awake. I knew it," Castiel murmured as his hands massaged her muscles, dipping beneath her to caress her breasts. His breath brushed over her ear and she turned her head towards the contact. "I was watching you."

"Making sure I don't run again again?"

He grumbled against her skin. "I missed you. Allow me that."

Meg didn't answer, enjoying the way his touch was steadily putting her asleep again. He nuzzled her neck, whispered nonsensical musings to her about how they should do something else, how it had been a few hours and everything was too quiet.

For once she let herself enjoy his muttering as she rested under him. It felt good to feel his breath brush over her skin as he settled more fully on her. The angel's body was incredibly warm and it was making her head swim a little as he stretched over her, letting her take a bit more of his weight. Eventually, he huffed and stopped talking, his hands still lingering beneath her body. Eyes barely able to open, Meg reached back and stroked the head now resting over her shoulder.

"Since when did you turn into a large lap-cat?" she asked as she lightly scraped her nails against his scalp.

"Mm." Castiel made a mock growl sound that had her chuckling before she could stop herself and his head nudged under her arm. He twisted and stretched, pushing up beneath her and the bed until she was half-sprawled onto him and his head was on the pillow. Propping her chin up on his chest, she saw that his eyes were shut and his breathing was even as if he was sound asleep.

"Liar," she whispered and his eyes opened a little to give her a look. "Do you even really sleep?"

"I slept when I was human. But I still like to pretend that it gives me peace. For a while sleep was—" He shuddered and she felt his arm move around her waist and tighten. "— all I had to block everything out when it became too much."

Meg kept silent and pushed closer into his body. With the lamplight on, she could see in shadowy patches what time had changed between them. She realized for the first time what the roughness was on his chest; there was smooth skin but there were patches that rasped against her breasts and hands. Scars from battles, she figured as she used her fingers to trace the gun shot wounds, knife slashes, bite marks from monsters, and even the raised ridges of the Enochian tattoo on his side. All of those marks decorated his vessel the way her own scars decorated her trueself. Time as a human hadn't been any kinder to him than it had been to her.

But rather than comment she simply brushed her mouth over his chest, letting her tongue touch the indenture of his collarbone, before she tucked in tighter.

His other arm went around her waist and reached down to cup her hip.

"You don't have to pretend to sleep," Castiel muttered. "You…"

"Forgot what it was like having a ginormous angel body pillow," Meg finished. She swung a leg over his hip and stretched out over him from toe to head. It was a sensuous sort of movement that made her feel all the good aches from the hours before, and it made his breath quicken when she rubbed against him. "Not too heavy?"

"Though I doubt you would move if you were, you feel very light," he admitted and she felt his nose brush her hair, felt him inhale. His breathing deepened again and her eyelids drooped as she lay curled on his body, hearing the steady beat of his heart pounding through his chest. Just beneath that steady thud-thump was the hum of Grace as it rose up next to her own self and rested against that thorn-laden darkness as if it belonged next to her.

As if she belonged here.

That she had her first peace in years lying here with him didn't escape her.

"It's nice just to lie here and not worry about the world coming to an end," Castiel said suddenly, the echo of his voice through his chest loud in her ear. His hand was travelling up and down her skin in slow, seductive caresses, before it paused to push a little on the small of her back so her belly nudged into him more. Opening one eye, she gave his face a wry look that knew exactly what he was up to. Meg reached up and patted his face with absent affection.

"It's not a bad thing at all," she admitted. She felt his lower lip against her thumb, traced the warm wet softness of his mouth before she pulled it away. "Let a girl get some rest, Clarence."

Castiel didn't answer but slid his hand down her back to pull the sheet up over her so she was wrapped up with him. After a few minutes, she felt his breathing even out underneath her. She yawned bfeore slowly falling asleep again.

---

It was a few hours later when the sound of a truck blaring its horn angrily and some men from the bar began to fight in the parking lot completely destroyed the peace and quiet of the small motel. The noise woke her up in increments, from a nightmare about a place where she was drowned in forgetfulness to place where all that was left was a pleasant sexual ache. Saved from the weight of that dream, she groaned and reached over blindly. She felt the still warm bed space, the imprint of a body that had been beside her, but no living flesh met her touch. Rolling onto her back, Meg finally looked up at the ceiling. It was unusual not to think that there may be something wrong, for her body not to be on edge to leap up. She was so used to running still.

Digging her toes into the blankets, the demon closed her eyes as she reached down and touched the space between her breasts.

She could feel the faint ridge of knife cuts from Crowley, Lucifer, and then the leftover ridge of where Azazel had stabbed her. For some reason, those three times had left behind small marks, serving as a reminder what happened when she let her guard down too much. Meg turned her hand over and dug her nails into her own skin, until the fading scars pinched and pulled painfully.

It almost felt good like this, as the tiny sting was helping her prove it was real.

Her wandering hand brushed the faint red marks left by Castiel's stubble and a bruise left by his mouth, and she lingered on the imprint. She must have slept deeply enough that she hadn't felt him leave and she thought he would have stayed. Biting into her lower lip, Meg turned her head to the side and looked around the room.

No Castiel waiting around like an angelic guard.

Where was he?

Shoving down that strange disappointment, she groaned and rolled back over to push herself up onto her knees, glancing at the side table. Castiel's angel sword was gone, so was his clothing, but the bags of supplies were there. Meg glanced through the curtains at the still dark sky and the falling snow and wondered where he would have gone. Debating on calling Castiel, or even going out to find him, the demon shrugged and gave up. He'd come back when he wanted, she thought, ignoring the doubt.

She grabbed her clothes from the floor as she made her way to the bathroom, tripping over her own feet as her sore muscles protested how fast she moved.

Even a hot shower didn't really wake her up, only highlighted each and every sore muscle from the night before. The marks from Adam's fangs were still pink and healing but the pain was gone, leaving her with only phantom aches that made her long for bed and an angel again.

When the water finally ran ice cold down her back, she stepped out and eventually caught sight of herself in the mirror as she dressed. She stopped midway through zipping up her jeans and stared at her reflection for a while. Murmuring in Latin, she watched as the youthful woman who looked back at her abruptly faded into a twisted mockery of what she once been, the darker skin marred by grey scarring and twisted angles. Hideous and tortured in appearance, a manifestation of everything that had been done in Hell.

Meg drew devil horns on the mirror, carefully sketching in the condensation as if it was true art.

With a horrible sense of humour, she bared her teeth and watched as the meatsuit and the demon almost blended perfectly together. Chuckling at her mirror twin, she swiped her hand through the reflection and turned away to finish dressing. Not for the first time, she wondered at how Castiel and even Nyx had seen past the meatsuit to see this creature and found something worthy.

Aware of the shower running, Castiel materialized back into the room and nervously eyed the rumpled bed as he made his way to the bathroom. He put his hand on the door, imagined he could feel the heat and her presence in there, and debated on going into see if she was done. But the squeak of the faucets and her low muttering let him know she was fine and he turned away to take a seat. He set the bag from the restaurant on the table, smelled the overwhelming odours of greasy food and sat down in the old armchair by the bed.

Earlier when she'd fallen into the heavy doze again, he'd stayed beside her.

It had felt so strange to be there, staring at her face. He had seen the twisted creature under the pretty meatsuit and he had let his Grace touch it. Her power had growled at him, nipped at him with dark thorns that caused him to ache. But he loved her, her darkness and her trueself, and his power and hers stopped fighting long enough to allow him to relax.

Eventually, she had simply tucked even further into his arms and slept on. When he'd pushed her hair away and smoothed his hands over her body, she hadn't woken up but he could feel her contentment. He'd waited, watching her rest with that thoughtful stare, before he had decided it was time to check the surroundings.

Without any sign of monsters or demons, he had gone to buy something to eat, wanting to seem 'normal' to the humans around. The manager he had spoken to earlier was still on shift, and when he had passed him he had given Castiel that lecherous look he had had before. As if he knew exactly what had happened between them and Castiel had, as discreetly as possible, avoided his look with a shyness he hadn't felt in years.

When the bathroom door opened, he put his hands on the arm of the chair and leaned forward a bit. He tried so hard not to appear eager that he betrayed it in the way his body tightened and his breathing went shallow.

Meg spotted him the instant she came out, her hair already half-dried in long waves around her shoulders. She stopped, bare feet skidding on the tile, and cocked her head on the side. He smiled a little in greeting, and she fiddled with the hem of her shirt. There was a strange nervousness in her he hadn't seen before and he leaned a bit further, debating on going to her.

"Where'd you go?" she asked. One eyebrow lifted as he picked up the bag of food.

"I brought you something," he broke off as she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it at him, "to eat."

"I'm a demon, remember? Don't need to eat," Meg drawled as she unbuckled her jeans again and turned away from him to turn off the lights. He watched as she shucked her jeans off hard, so they made a solid thump against the wall, and spun away from him.

Determined to keep calm, he opened the bag. "You could be hungry."

She grinned over her shoulder at him before she stretched slowly. She was highlighted in the glow of the lamp; Castiel felt his mouth go dry just watching her, not sure what she wanted him to do. He swallowed as he watched the play of light over her and cleared his throat noisily. Giving a satisfied groan, Meg flicked her hair back and turned towards him. Slowly, she started to back away from him as if daring him to move and follow her.

"Not for food, Cas."

"Right," he muttered, tossing the bag back onto the table and getting up. He didn't miss her smug look as he quickly undressed and watched her take her place on the bed. Naked, Meg lay on her stomach and stretched again to grip the bed-frame. Her eyes shut and she sighed, waiting as she heard him turn the heat back on and check the wards before joining her. When he finally crawled up over her, mouth brushing the back of her neck and hands slowly pulling her up so that he could touch her, she chuckled.

"Haven't changed that much, have you? Still a sucker for the visual."

His teeth sank in a little to cause her to groan. "Is that a problem?

"Mm, hell no."

---

The bunker's outside was still pristine, a hole in the side of the hill and almost camouflaged completely from normal sight. Plants and overgrowth simply helped it, the almost natural smell of the woods even hiding the faint smells of gas and humans. But Azazel knew they were there. He stood beneath the trees across the road, his eyes yellow and swirling with anger and hate. The monsters that should have been here, searching for the Winchesters, were already gone; pulled away by the smells of angels and demons, by the feel of a storm making its way across the Midwest. They were so simple.

He couldn't even call demons to him or chance the angels. They wouldn't come anyway. He was alone on both sides of that coin.

Azazel had considered going to Hell, winning back the rule that he had held for centuries but after all this time he wasn't that stupid. Abaddon and Crowley ruled together, likely Abaddon, even a Knight such as her, was someone he wouldn't trifle with lightly though Crowley just needed the right push. Now that the monsters had been kicked from Hell then they would be on guard for anyone new. Loyalties in demons were strong but Azazel knew that the best way to keep that loyalty was from fear. He'd been gone long enough that he would bet an exorbitant amount of souls that the demons had learned to fear more than just him.

That was more than a little irritating.

Azazel always had worked best alone. Adopting Meg and Tom as his seconds had alleviated the burden of his missions a little, even for a time, even though he had frequently sent them back to Hell for 're-education'. It had been done, so he told them, out of love. They had had to learn. He enjoyed the machinations of his own family, enjoyed watching what he put into play as it unfolded and tore lives apart.

The fallen always did enjoy that. Centuries had gone by with that sort of entertainment.

Until the Winchester brothers. Maybe he should have seen that coming; he remembered the start of loyalty showing in Meg and seen how a demon would protect her family for loyalty and love against hunters. There wasn't much difference when you took away morality and the crimes they committed. But Sam Winchester had done exactly as he was meant to do, as had Dean Winchester, and his own children hadn't. Technically, Sam and the utter corruption of the Winchesters and Campbells had been his greatest accomplishment.

It wasn't his fault that his Father had underestimated them.

"Seems like a new thing though. Winchesters, monsters, demons, angels; all working as one big happy family. Things were so much simpler years ago," Azazel muttered, lifting his hand towards the door as if he was going to push on it despite the distance. He focussed his power and immediately felt the push from the wards painted on the doorway, coded so only Castiel could get through. Gritting his teeth, he forced his telekinesis to push a little harder. The repulsion there was strong, sending shockwaves of pain through his arms until he was numb and he had to give up.

Rolling his eyes, Azazel looked up at the sky and debated on what to do next.

As if in answer to his thoughts, the door swung open and Sam Winchester came out, looking right and then left. He held his hand to his ear, speaking into a cellphone as he made his way to the Impala where it was parked in the distance under a cover. Azazel sprang to his feet; he still wore their bastard brother's face, it would be easy to confuse Sam even more.

Be even easier to make it so Sam couldn't get too far before being bait.

The child and Dean Winchester would be easy prey. Following them, Meg and Castiel.

But before Azazel could move more than a few steps something snared inside of him and held him. It felt remarkably like being snared in a devil's trap but the sensation in his hands was foreign. As if he could feel them but not move them.

His eyes shone blue instead of yellow as Michael regained control inch by inch of the body. "No," his voice in this body was more monotone, holding him steady. The demon retreated under the force of that Grace.

"You don't have a choice, not with the way we are." Azazel's own voice, cool and smooth as a snake, was echoed by the way his darkness curled around inside of the vessel. Michael's Grace and angelic presence was almost choked out by the way it coiled around them.

"My Father didn't want this to happen, he told me," Michael answered. Azazel's sudden anger was nearly tangible at his words. With a roar in his ears, Michael felt it twisting the body around and into a tree. To anyone who could have seen it, he would have just run into the tree on his own. His nose broke at the impact but Grace simply healed it instantaneously, and Michael shook his head as he regained control.

"Your Father abandoned you. Let Castiel destroy you as an Archangel. You're nothing but a simple angel now, with your true Grace locked away with my Father." Azazel snapped a wrist bone just to anger the other being in this body and Michael's head turned a little. He shook his hand and everything set itself to rights again. "Or did you forget how he abandoned you? How Sheol cast us out of the Lethe then? For fun?"

"I didn't forget," Michael answered as he healed the damage as quickly as Azazel was causing it to the body. "But this isn't the way."

"How would you know? You've never done it this way. Felt a child's hot blood on your hands, living heartbeats fading under your hands."

Michael was silent for a while, though he didn't allow Azazel to take control again.

"I have."

He could feel the demon's surprise within him.

"I am an angel of the Lord. The things I have done, demon, would surprise even you. All for the sake of His Love."

"And was it worth it?" Azazel hissed, trying to regain control. The angel had slept, uncaring, once it became clear he had no power or interest yet. But when Azazel had changed tactics, Michael had woken up. Lingering always inside of him. Waiting.

Apparently given strength when they were so close to where the bunker was, to where his true vessel was.

"I'm not sure yet," Michael answered. "But we're not doing this."

Like a serpent, he felt that demon that rode alongside his Grace slither through, turning his eyes from blue to a muted amber. "We will, Michael. Soon."

---

Someone stood outside her new home, waiting for her and for her family. Ready to tear them apart and take her from them. She felt that cold power and the way it settled in terrifying fog around her, making her dreams of sunshine and waves plummet into nightmares of darkness and ice.

Nyx woke up with a startled cry, the blanket she was wrapped up in tumbling off. She rolled around in her bed, snatched up her stuffed unicorn, and cuddled it close as she dove beneath her other comforter. Sniffling down her tears, she scrubbed at her face and bit into her lower lip hard enough that it stung. She pressed her face against Clarence's soft worn body and tried to stop crying. The dark room was scary; shadows and bad monsters were waiting to gobble her up she was sure. Dean had closed the room up so there was no light except for silvers of light under the door and she hated being in the darkness; she'd just been too scared to ask for a light.

She wanted so badly to find her mother but she had promised to stay here. Nyx didn't like breaking promises.

Slipping out of bed and wrapping herself up her blanket, Nyx padded to the door and cracked it open. She could hear the melodic notes of music from the other rooms, low rock humming out but she didn't hear voices. She nudged Clarence a bit tighter under her arm, hitched her comforter up close, and quickly crossed over to Sam's room.

When she saw his empty bed, she sniffled again and tried not to burst into tears.

Nyx felt more fear being alone in the bunker than she had even when they had left her here.

She felt something protective embrace her slowly, as if the blanket was growing warmer.

Go see Dean, Nyx, one of her friends whispered.

With a nod to her imaginary friends, she ran for his room and quickly opened the door, peeking in. Though still dressed in his day clothing, Dean was asleep, propped up against the headboard as his record player began to skip and scratch against the vinyl.

Nyx set Clarence down on the bed and walked over to the player, looking at the knobs and needle curiously. For some reason she remembered this, a very fuzzy memory that hurt a bit to think about. Delicately, she reached out to the needle and lifted it before setting it back down into one of the record's well-worn grooves. She smiled in delight as the music picked up again, a low hum building, but Dean didn't stir. Nyx couldn't read exactly what the words were on the back of the album cover, but she knew she'd heard this song before.

With the same care she would have shown Clarence, she tucked Dean in beside her stuffed toy and then settled in under his arm. With Sam gone she knew she needed protection against her bad dreams. Dean simply slept on, oblivious to the small child who leaned against him and listened to the starting notes of old rock music playing on the low stereo. Nyx's eyes drooped close as she heard his heartbeat and the music carrying the same steady rhythm, and hoped he could keep the scary monsters away.

---

—

Dean curved his fingers lovingly over the steering wheel. He let it slide back and forth as he corrected the angle and the Impala almost purred as she coasted over the road. The sleek black car ran like a dream when the weather was nice. Though God knew Dean loved his little brother, sometimes being alone and driving quiet miles with nothing but the purring engine and the rumble of the Impala's suspension taking the cement highway was his favourite time. He knew this car, loved it and loved how at home he felt in it. The way he could sink back in the seats was liking sitting in the comfiest couch to him.

It was a gorgeous day to be out; all crisp late autumn air and bright colours.

Therefore, it had to be a dream.

Still, he was happy to lean back in his seat and let the car carry him through the twist and turns. Miles after miles, Led Zeppelin playing, Good Times Bad Times rolling through in harmony with the way he would occasionally rev the engine. Funny, he didn't remember turning on the radio.

"You do love this car. I still can see why. She's a home, a place of protection." The female voice, low and almost tentative, snapped him out of his pleasant drive. The radio seemed to turn itself down and he glanced over quickly, his breathing deepening to control his surprise.

Sitting on the passenger side was a thin redhead whose incredibly long fingers were clenched tight onto her thighs, her ethereal beauty made almost more unreal by the light radiating from her. As if drawn, she looked at him and Dean looked at her. He cleared his throat and shook his head a little.

"Definitely dreaming," he muttered. He forced himself to relax his death grip on the steering wheel. "Hello, Anna. Haven't seen you in my dreams in ages."

She smiled at him, her lower lip trembling a little. Dean gave the front window a smirk that was as cold and cruel as he could manage.

"Haven't seen you since Michael toasted you up."

The smile faded and her eyes half-closed in the sort of glare that chilled him. "Never questioned that, did you?"

"You were going to kill my family." Dean remembered that too vividly in that hellish year when he, Sam, and Castiel had fought so hard to save the world.

"And the fact that all I had done, all I had lost to help you, it meant nothing to you. Why would it? I'd been tortured, driven to the brink, no less than what happened to Castiel and yet you granted him forgiveness." She looked out at the fall foliage. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. It must be so nice to pick and choose who earns the famous Winchester forgiveness. Not that it is worth much. My brother is still an outcast from his own home."

Saying nothing, Dean instead turned his music off and kept the car moving as smoothly as before. Anna rode in silence beside him, and eventually he couldn't help but look at her once he was on a straightway. Her skin was still perfectly pale, complimenting her fiery hair, but there were patches of scar tissue on her neck. Burn marks were criss-crossed down to her collarbone, shining and purplish in colour. But she looked remarkably the same and he wondered if it was his head playing tricks with him.

"So," he cleared his throat, "why are you here? In my dreams or subconscious, whatever. Reminding me of people I let down or crossed at bad times."

She exhaled very slowly, as if weighing her own words. "I'm the only one of us willing to go through the barriers to talk to you."

"Us?" He gestured around. "There's only you and me here."

"Angels, Dean." She looked at him. "The angels. The ones who fell in battle."

He raised both eyebrows. "Ah, I think my dreams have now taken a turn for the freaky."

"It doesn't matter what you think, Dean." She turned in her seat and put her hand on his shoulder. Abruptly the Impala was gone, its comfort and warmth stolen away. In the way of dreams, they were now in an old wooden church that Dean knew he'd been in before. Anna stood before an altar, framed by the stained glass and white wood, her hair glowing like a fiery nimbus about her head.

"So, care to give me the scoop already?" he asked as he sat in the front pew and reclined a little, trying to at least look relaxed. Anna took a seat beside him and looked up at the crucifix that hung over the altar. "Or is this just a weird social call? You guys sending a 'screw you for screwing us' message to me. Because that I can understand."

She rolled her eyes up. "Dean. Really."

"Have to give me some sort of hint, Anna. I'm running on next to no sleep and heart medication. Makes me not ready to wait for you to think of some-" he started and she finally turned toward him.

"Nyx."

He jerked up at the way she blurted out the name. "Wait, how did you know about Nyx, Anna? You've been dead. You're a ghost right now, I bet."

"A ghost?" She smiled. "In a way. You think angels don't have something else to look forward to besides obliteration?" Anna shrugged. "You'd be right. God never planned for us to die, I guess. When we are killed, we just stay, nothing but meaningless discarded Grace in a limbo. But when we went to the Lethe we felt peace for a while."

"You went to the Lethe."

"So many angels, so many demons went there. But not all of us could stay there when it closed, when she sent us away. We had no where else to go. We couldn't even go back to that place we'd been stuck." She plucked at the intricate beading on her white top and her smile softened, transforming her face into a vision more loving and beautiful. "Then there was Nyx. There isn't an angel alive or dead who didn't feel her birth, Dean. Can you imagine? A demon and an angel created life. No one thought it was possible."

Dean lifted his eyebrows and smirked. "Trust me. Your brother was on the denial squad for a while there too."

She shook her head. "I know. Then we all realized that she was something else. Something new. Those of us who were thrown out of the Lethe, we've come to realize what she could be the moment she was born and the world changed. It didn't change much, just enough. We all decided then. We had lost our way and are finding it with her by helping her."

"Your way?" he asked.

Anna looked at her hands. "Our way. Angels live a long time, Dean. It is always possible they forget what they were created to do. It can happen to every living creature."

Looking over her, Dean saw how serious she was and tried hard to figure out what she was cryptically trying to tell him. "This is pretty insane, you get me?"

"I get you." She turned towards him again and reached out to touch his face, her hands ice cold. "Nyx will need you, Dean."

"Yeah?" He was sure he was blushing a little, couldn't help it with her hazel eyes seeming to stare into him. Anna used to have have that way of looking at him, even in dreams, that seemed to see under his self-protective sarcasm. Gently removing her hands, he stood up and walked around her towards the altar. "Why the hell does an angel's kid need a human to protect her?

"Not just to protect her, Dean, but to teach her family. You are important."

"Wrong brother, Anna," he said, giving a sharp laugh as if to punctuate that. "Sammy's the special one."

She smiled widely. "Oh, Dean." She stood up and went to him, once again cupping his face in her hands. "You are important because even more than Sam you realize how important it is to protect something that can't help what it is. She cannot help who she is but you care about her anyway. Not just because she is Castiel's or Meg's, not just because she saved Sam. You care that that little girl is going to see the worst of mankind in ways no child should. You can already tell how this world could hurt her."

Dean stared down into her searching gaze, feeling her hand stroke his cheek. She smiled at the understanding she saw there. "You care, Dean, because you don't know how not to. For all your Winchester hunter instincts and tough guy antics? You care and you protect because that's who you are."

"So what do I do, Ghost girl?" he asked, not able to pull back from her.

"You'll know, Dean. Just protect her," she said, stepping back.

"Why?"

Anna smiled, a genuine smile that made her even more lovely. "Time to wake up, Dean."

She was gone in a flash of light and Dean chortled awake, choking on her name. His arm tightened around the soft body bunched up against his side out of instinct and his other hand went towards the night table where he stashed his knife. Before he could grip the handle, he felt the small arms on his stomach move a little and realized that Nyx was beside him. She muttered a little, patted his side before contentedly falling back asleep. Eyes on her dark head, Dean heard the music playing and saw Clarence tucked in beside them. The door was shut and he realized that she'd come in because she didn't want to be alone.

A nightmare would be his guess.

But something uncomfortably like fatherly concern made him mutter for her to stay asleep as he tucked her into his warm spot on the bed. Not wanting to leave, he pulled a chair up beside the bed and studied the girl as she slept so deeply.

She looked like nothing more than a child but now Anna's dream appearance had made him wonder what she was really meant for. Wonder why he suddenly wanted to be sure she was safe. It was now a compulsion in the back of his mind and he didn't like being out of control of the one thing he thought he had left: his free choice to do what he wanted when he needed to.

Maybe it was restlessness, what with his forced rest and elected babysitter duty wearing him down. As he stared at her, Dean thought that maybe he really was getting soft.

---

Waiting for the hours to pass was the hardest part for a demon with too much time on her hands. Meg listened to the angel beside her snoring a little, a low rumble just loud enough to echo his heartbeat. In her head, she counted the erratic sound, noticing when his breathing just stopped and she wondered if it was just an idiosyncrasy of occupying a vessel. Then he'd start breathing again and she'd go back to reading.

Meg wondered though how much sleeping he had done as a human; he still treated it as more of a novelty than a necessity. Didn't mean she wasn't going to take full advantage. She had pulled his old journal out of his bag and started reading it, not having wanted his constant commentary over it, as if he was nervous about how she would interpret what he wrote. The sporadic entries, the almost compulsive number counting on the pages, all told her he had depended quite a bit on finding outlets for himself.

She turned to one of the December entries.

"Killed another angel today. I'm supposed to be helping them. I have years to help them but they aren't making it any easier."

"Oh, Clarence, when will you ever learn?" she muttered, setting it down to the side. He muttered in his sleep and turned over onto his stomach. Meg felt his arm wrap around her hips and tilted her head to watch him, wondering if he was actually faking it. Reaching out, she sifted her fingers through his hair but he didn't stir.

"You just can't help how you are, can you?" Meg asked the sleeping angel, not expecting an answer and not getting one. She settled her head back down against the headboard and began reading again, though she had a hard time deciphering his scratches and occasional tangents into things she saw as inane. Still better, she thought, than sitting around doing nothing.

When she heard the doors outside opening, people moving and cars starting up, she slid out from under his arm. Stashing his journal back in his bag, she scooped up her clothing, dressing a bit slower to compensate for the ache in her body. She finished zipping up her coat and quickly dug into his discarded jeans to fish out some money. Reminding herself that it was only to keep the pretence that they were normal, it still annoyed her more demonic sensibilities to have to be so human as to not steal.

She didn't notice his head turn a little on the pillow, one blue eye opening to watch her. Meg paused in the doorframe, highlighted by light and snow outside, fixing her coat tighter and seeming to hesitate, before she closed the door behind herself to leave him alone in the dark room.

The parking lot was nearly empty of the cars that had been there the night before, except for her old car. Meg fixed her collar and made sure the door was locked before darting under the overhang.

"Damn."

She hadn't been ready for how cold it was or for the blustering winds that whipped her hair around; it looked like more snow had been dumped on them over the course of the night. The demon set her foot down tentatively in the new snow and she heard the satisfying crunch of it under her boot. Meg frowned and ground her foot down again, stuffing her hands in her pockets and shaking her shoulders. The tiny imprint of her soles left tracks as she shuffled towards the restaurant beside the bar, leaving her car behind. She just narrowly dodged being hit by a car that slide around on the ice in the parking lot.

Neither of them had noticed last night the sound of the storm or its fierce arrival. The reason why made Meg grin as she reached up to brush her fingers over a mark he'd left on her collarbone.

The restaurant itself was warm, smelling of too much old coffee and cigarettes, but almost deserted except for the group of men and women in the back corner. Truckers, maybe. Meg didn't care. The moment the waitress put a cup of coffee down in front of her, she grabbed the local paper and start reading. Years of being on the road had taught her to look for the first sign of trouble and sometimes the humans were good enough to let details slip to the newspapers.

Some disappearances, she noticed, but nothing too major.

Meg licked her dry lips and raised her cup back up, the burning coffee tasting acidic on her tongue. The waitress looked half-asleep, wiping down the same spot on the counter for the sake of something to do. Meg ran her tongue over her teeth before clicking it a few times as she saw the 'wild dog sightings' on the bottom of the third page.

Uh huh, right.

But even though part of her attention stayed focussed on the idea of monsters, another part was back in that motel room. She should be feeling ready to run again, like she always had been before. Eager to get out and move on, that was more typical Meg. But all she wanted was to go back to the room and try to relax. Angel pillow included.

As she wavered further between leaving and staying, she sat where she was and kept drinking and reading.

She was halfway through her third cup, a satisfying buzz already going through her, when she realized that two people now sat on either side of her at the counter. The smell of them, something earthy and musky, set the warning bells off first. Meg glanced out of the corner of her eye to see that the waitress had backed off completely. The pair sitting next to her were talking to each other far too casually, as if they were nothing but humans.

Meg felt the difference in them a bit more acutely than before. Figuring it to be the long hours she'd spent in Adam's company, she looked to the side and saw the man staring at her. He bared small canines at her and she squinted at him. They were changed monsters, she guessed. The look of them wasn't quite like a skinwalker but a little different in terms of their greyish skin tone and wild look. The smell was strong, reminding her of Adam and the warehouse.

So these were leftover experiments, probably set loose by Eve, but they were still skinwalkers in the way they smelled and looked. She could handle that.

The woman to her left leaned in close to her ear, her lisping voice threatening. "Don't cause a scene, demon."

Meg shrugged and slurped away. "Let me guess, part of that skinwalker gang I saw earlier." She looked square at the woman. "You're the head bitch?"

The skinwalker's amber brown eyes turned bright orange. "Do you really want to draw attention?"

"Just here for the coffee. Not the company." Meg stood, slapped a few dollars down for the frightened looking waitress and headed for the door only to find her way blocked by two larger skinwalkers. The ones from the night before who had stared at her. Compared to the woman behind her, they looked normal without that waxy complexion and the crazed eyes.

"The Mother," the leader said. "She wants us to bring her any demons."

In other words, Meg thought, you don't actually know who I am.

She turned on her heel slowly. "You think I'll make it easy on you?"

The other skinwalkers who were part of the pack all grinned and their leader laughed. "We were hoping you wouldn't."

Meg cursed herself for not grabbing Castiel's angel sword when she should have. "Well." She smiled up at the two big ones over her shoulder. "This should be fun."

She waved her hand, sending out a pulse and wave of energy that flung the two guards through the doors and out into the parking lot. She followed through, ignoring the way the skinwalkers charged through the restaurant after her and making sure she moved just one step ahead of them. Even locked in this body she could still move fast and she was in better shape than she had been weeks ago.

But they had a point. If she did this in the open, then the chances of someone noticing, of word getting back to Eve, were pretty high and she needed to lie low.

Meg knew how important it was to lie low in times like these.

She crossed the highway at a run, narrowly avoiding the trucks and sanders out, and then spun midway into the park across the street. The skinwalkers had followed her, some already changing into their canine form as they gave chase. Meg watched them surround her, calculated distance and how much room she needed, and then smiled at the leader. The woman had a triumphant grin, as if she expected Meg to give up just out of sheer numbers.

"You always do what Mommy tells you?" the demon asked.

"She is going to bring us back to where we should be. Top of the food chain, and you scum can go back to Hell."

Meg pouted prettily. "Might have some disagreement there."

"She was with a man," a man said behind her. "He might come looking for her."

"A demon?" the woman asked and Meg smirked a little. "Doesn't matter. Her boyfriend won't miss her."

"He might have something to say about that. I like to think he's a little attached to me." She caught a rushing movement out of the corner of her eye and lashed out, catching a monster by his collar. She twisted him down, and slammed his face into the snow, holding him down. His body flailed as he began to choke on the snow, arms trying to beat her off as Meg ground her knee into the nape of his neck until she heard a crack of bone under the pressure. Her eyes went black and she grinned widely.

The skinwalkers looked nervously at each other.

"You're an old one," the leader said, suddenly seeming unsure, and Meg shrugged. "You should have known better than to be alone then."

She felt a cold rush of the wind displacing, lifting her hair a little.

"Didn't say I was alone." The look on their faces was almost worth it as they looked behind her at the newest arrival. Meg grinned and tossed her hair over her shoulder, noticing Castiel. He stared back, obviously angry. "Took you long enough."

Grinding his teeth in his anger, he looked ready to strangle her himself. "You always find trouble."

"I'm good at that, remember?" she asked, noticing the open confusion of the creatures watching them.

"He's…" The leader backed away a bit. "He's not a demon."

Panic went through the group, changing them from a unified pack to a chaotic mess. One of the skinwalkers, already changed into a large shepherd, charged forward snarling and Meg slammed her knee into its side as it went down with a whine. Castiel moved up beside her but before he could move her out of the way she ducked under his arm. She filched his sword out from under his coat, where she had glimpsed it safely tucked into his belt, and he spun with her to guard her back. The dog shrieked as she sliced into its side, yelping when she dug it a little deeper.

Castiel muttered something under his breath that sounded like a curse.

The female leader changed, her form more hulking than the others, and a mixture of dogs and humanoids lined up to face the angel and demon.

"Never wanted company," Meg muttered and felt his hand on her arm, pulling her so she guarded his back.

The rest attacked at the same time and it became a blur of bodies and movement as Meg and Castiel fought together. With her armed, he allowed himself to be more reckless, catching the creatures in his arms so that she could finish them. Occasionally, he'd get catch her smiling just before finishing off another monster and Meg saw his anger with her. But the anger was only part of what she could feel rolling off of him. They could feel each other's adrenaline, the excitement in a fight, and it followed them like a shadow as they fought the skinwalkers. She sank her sword into the belly of the female leader, causing her to howl and Castiel swung her about his body to protect her from a swipe. He felt the rasp of claws catching his leg and he slammed his fist down onto a boxy head of the grotesquely changed monster.

Meg flung her hair over her shoulder, watched the remaining pack start to circle them and felt a slight spike in her enjoyment that they were giving her such a fight. But the grip Castiel had on her hand tightened.

"Shut your eyes," he shouted and Meg spun, shielding her eyes instinctively as he lifted his hand. The parkland filled with a flash of light, and in a heartbeat it was over, the changed monsters collapsed down, burnt out and dead.

Opening her eyes, Meg glanced around the park while slowly dusting off her jeans from the snow and feeling how soaked she was just from being tripped up into the slippery patches. It didn't matter. The bitter cold wind on her skin felt good after the heated fight and she grinned at the sight of the ashy remains already being covered in snow.

"Not bad, Clarence," she muttered and turned to find him so close she had to creak her neck back to stare up at him.

There was no mistaking the anger she saw on his face. "You should have waited for me."

"Don't need a babysitter, feathers," Meg snapped back. She stepped into him and poked him hard in the chest. "I can fight as well as you can."

Vaguely, she was aware that the closer she pressed into him, the deeper her breathing became. The exhilaration from a fight was hard to come down from so fast and under his coat she felt his heart beating hard.

"Were you worried about little old me?" she teased, trying to lighten the mood. He looked away and she saw his jaw clench up. "You can stay and pout if you want, I'm going back."

There was another flash, the sensation that time had stood still for a fraction, and Meg closed her eyes as the world shifted around her. Immediately, there was a warm draft that stung the cold flesh of her cheeks when she landed against something solid.

"You went out hoping I'd follow you."

"Not exactly," she answered. She opened her eyes to see him still looming over her, her back to the door. The motel room, warm and familiar, was still dark with the blinds shut.

"I think you enjoyed fighting with me, against me sometimes, just to see what I'll do," Castiel said and Meg smiled up at him.

"I think you like it too. No one else does it with you that way I do, I bet. No one dares." Her hands lifted and set themselves back against the door over her head, taunting him. "Unless you don't like how I do it." She took in his harsh breathing, his dilated pupils, and the way his body was tight, before she gave him a coy smirk. "But I think you do."

She leaned up, mouth just brushing his lower lip when she stood up on her toes. Meg felt him exhale against her face, tasted cold mint on his breath. His skin was cold as hers, his lips icy despite the way her tongue traced them. Even the snow that had dusted his hair was sprinkling down cold and wet onto her face, making her shiver as he tilted his head just a little more and she drew her tongue across his lip. He cupped her face and held her back, and she saw his blue eyes darting over her thoughtfully.

"You were nearly hurt," he whispered.

"But I wasn't. I had you, Clarence."

He stared down at her and the demon gave him a surprisingly soft smile.

"My guardian angel," Meg finished and with a defeated groan, he lowered his head and kissed her. The hands on her face were as cold as his lips and when he turned his head to deepen the kiss she felt more snow fall between them from his shoulders and head. The adrenaline that had sparked before was still roaring in their blood, turning their kiss into a fight of its own as she gripped him closer by his collar. Her body wrapped around his, pushing him back just a little until he moved to grip her clothing. His hands tugged her coat apart, tossed it into a soaked pile on the floor, at the same time she managed to shove his own coat off. Her tongue slipped over his, darting teasingly so he had to follow her to keep the kiss deep. Feeling his hands going down to cup her by her buttocks, Meg hitched a leg up over his waist just before he pushed her into the door. The solid smack of her back meeting it made her laugh as he lifted her up and held her suspended there.

Whatever sarcastic quip she thought she could manage when Castiel moved his mouth down her neck was lost as he sucked a red mark up onto her skin, his moan loud as if he was tasting something delicious.

She could get used to this again.

---

It would figure, Meg decided, that Castiel would complain about her leaving the motel room without him but act as eager as a teenager with his first girlfriend if he was able to come along. He made his opinion about being left behind pretty clear. After being put up against the wall so… so…. just the memory made Meg grin as she fell in to step beside him. Her back ached, her legs hurt, and even her throat was a bit scratchy.

Worth it.

Castiel cleared his own throat and she glanced up at him. The small purple mark on his throat, half hidden by his upturned collar, only added to the incredibly ruffled look of him. He looked down at the snow, as if alarmed by the way it had become deeper, and made a large step over a bank of it. It was well over her hip and she eyed the slippery slope thoughtfully. She could dart over it easy, what demon couldn't, but she also couldn't resist making Castiel as uncomfortable as possible in public sight. Meg waited and he stared back at her.

"You can't have lost all your human know-how, Clarence," she said.

He stared. "You…"

She gestured abruptly and he reached out automatically for her. His hands slid down to her hips and lifted and she grinned at him as he lifted her out of the snow.

"Adorable, Clarence. I was going to say "wait a second", but the helping hand? Cute."

He gave her hips a warning squeeze. "Next time, I'll drop you if you wish."

Meg rolled her eyes and leaned a bit into him. "Have to remember then, Cas. Cold demon." She stuck her hand under his shirt so her icy fingers met his warm flesh. He yelped in reaction. "Cold hands."

Making a face at her, he snatched her hand away and, still muttering about demons, half-dragged her after him. His hand was warm and Meg thought about pulling away until it was clear he wasn't about to let her. Eventually though, as they came back to the overhang and were able to slip under and out of the blowing snow, he let her go. He slowed up a little, giving her time to catch up, and she thought she felt his hand slide around her hip.

Then it was gone and the stoic, expressionless angel was back.

"I don't see why we needed to leave the room."

She shrugged. "Stir crazy, Cas. I need some whisky and to watch some old drunks beat each other up."

He grumbled and followed her into the bar. It was decently full and Meg felt his hand on the small of her back, pushing her further away from the humans. She ignored it and slid down onto a chair at a window table. He fidgeted, looked more upset than she expected, and when the waitress came over she ordered doubles.

Something told her he was going to be insufferable.

"Look. Just unscrunch your panties, sit down, have a drink, and we'll be gone in a bit. This makes us look normal." She leaned back against the window and propped her leg up on the chair beside her. Castiel sat down and sighed, shaking snow out of his hair. Meg eyed him. "Have to remember, big guy, we're trying to be respectable."

"Manager already thinks we aren't," he muttered and then blinked, looking back at her. Her arched eyebrow made him open his mouth and then give a weak smile. "He thinks we're having an affair together."

"Mm." She leaned back and unbuttoned her coat slowly. "Not far from the truth I guess."

They were half way through several glasses of whisky before Castiel seemed to lighten up a little. He wasn't drunk, far from it, but seeing her willing to sit and relax had the same effect on him.

"What was it like?" he asked after the waitress left the second time. Meg took a burning sip and looked at him. "Being human again."

"Wasn't quite human though," she corrected.

"Close enough." He looked down at the table.

Her eyes, for the first time since they'd come here, went colder than onyx. "Don't ask, Castiel."

He shuddered a little. "Fine."

Meg spun the glass on the table and brooded in silence. Castiel sighed, down the rest of his drink, and then stood to take a seat beside her, nudging her leg over.

"Then why did you do it?" she asked and he sighed as he took her empty glass and switched it with his. There was no bitterness in her voice, just curiosity.

"Because I wanted you to live."

Her body shifted a little and he turned to look at her.

"You could have told me."

He almost didn't hear her. "Would you have listened? Done as I asked?"

The waitress put another drink down and Meg slid it towards herself. "No."

He reached out and brushed her hair out of her face. "Meg." Her eyes, with a slowness not at all like her usual self, lifted to his. Castiel took in a deep breath and let it out, watching the way her gaze seemed to search his face for clues about what he was thinking. He wanted to say something but for some reason, this time he was stuck. All he could do was remove his hand and look down at the table.

Meg calmly looked back out the window.

"We should get out of here," he said, slapping money on the table and pushing away from the table. Meg stared up at him, aware that he had lost that slight smile and lighter look to his face.

Instead, this was the Castiel of a few weeks ago.

He walked out ahead of her, all eagerness out of his step and his shoulders slumping downward. Meg stopped on the roadway when it became a bit too much, sucking in cold air and forcing herself not to curse at him. But Castiel kept walking, clearly thinking she was going to follow him.

"Angels," she muttered. It would be good to walk away for a while, clear her head. It was too easy, even for a demon, to get muddled by warmth, by safety and sex, and she knew she was in danger of getting in over her head.

Again.

But she watched Castiel pause, his hands flex outward, and she stuffed her hands in her pockets and followed him anyway. He waited for her under the carpark overhang, walked behind her with a resoluteness that reminded her of having a bodyguard.

When Meg slipped into the room, he was just behind her, locking the door and pressing up against her. She could feel the cold air in that final draft brushing against the back of her neck and the way his hand brushed hers as he set the keys down on the table. For an angel that could move faster than she could and carried far more threat than many of the demons or monsters she knew, the fact that she trusted him at her back like this was something she still wondered about.

When Meg turned towards him, her eyes a bit narrow and her mouth pursed, she saw his suspicious look.

"It won't change anything," she said. "We both know that." Castiel said nothing. Her fingers, a bit numb from cold, unzipped his jacket and then helped him shrug it off. "So we move on. We're not humans, Cas."

"If we were?" he asked and, when she tried to ignore that, he grabbed her hands in his and held them still. His skin was almost too hot compared to hers.

Meg thought about that. "I don't know. That's not an option, Cas."

He sighed and looked away.

"If we were human, we'd be so caught up on how soon we were going to die, ignoring everything and pretending it didn't exist just for some stupid idea of perfect happiness." She nodded to herself as if that made all the sense in the world. Reaching out, she took his chin in her hand and held him still. "We're different, Cas, and we're the same. The moment either of us started over thinking this… gets us into trouble."

Castiel looked at his feet. "So what do we do?"

"Well." She helped pull him pull his shirt off over his head before she splayed her fingers over his chest. "You can prove that you missed me, even a little."

As the shirt fell, he looked at her curiously. "How?"

Running her tongue over her lower lip, she shrugged and tilted her head back as she stepped into him. The way he sucked in a breath, shivered when her cold hands slid just under the waist of his pants, was flattering.

"Use your imagination, Clarence."

---

Even the thought of more days spent in the bunker seemed to be the limit for his brother. Sitting on the worn old couch, Sam watched Dean pace as his long fingers spun a hunting knife back and forth with a thoughtless sort of skill. Sam took another big bite of his apple; let juice run down his chin as he glanced down to where Nyx was struggling to read. She was curled up under his arm, matter-of-factly turning pages and running her fingers over the words. He wasn't sure if she was trying to read but he heard her sounding out letters. The girl had grabbed one of his bigger tomes on demons in Mesopotamia, and had been imitating him reading for a few minutes now.

Likely it was the worst kind of book for her to try to read; she had enough nightmares, Dean had mentioned the other night. History lessons on demons wouldn't help those.

"Are you going to pace all day?" Sam asked as he stood up and took the book from Nyx. She sighed and waited as he began to rifle through the book shelves he kept safely stashed away from Dean for his more precious copies of personal books. "Nyx and I are getting tired just watching you."

"This is going to drive me crazy, you know that?" Dean waved his hand. "We're stuck here. Snow storm still coming in and I hate the cold."

"Well, we did agree to it."

"You can't tell me it's not driving you and Nyx nuts as well." He held up his hand and showed Sam his blackened nails where Nyx had coloured them in with a Sharpie. "Obviously."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Well, short of this getting to be "Adventures in Babysitting", I'm going to bang my head off the walls."

Sam sighed and found a battered copy of the Hobbit for Nyx. He handed it to her and muttered for her to try reading. It would be too difficult for a small child but she flipped through to illustrations and began to stare intently at the dragon sketch.

"So what do you want to do?" Dean grinned almost wolfishly, the sort of look at made his brother stare at him wide-eyed before he shook his head. "No. We're not hunting, Dean."

"Why not?"

"Because we told Cas we'd take care of Nyx and find a solution to Eve being out. One worry at a time." Sam gestured at the stack of books. "And we're not any closer, Dean. The archives are so damn vast I can't keep track of what I've read anymore."

"We go to ground. Find some of her offspring and get some intel."

"Isn't that why you brought Benny back?" Sam asked snidely.

"Dray-gone," Nyx's piping clear voice startled them both into looking at her. She tapped the drawing of Smaug and smiled up at them. "Dray-gone."

Dean gave her an indulgent smile and then pulled Sam further away so she wouldn't hear. "Benny's in thick with vamps. That's great. But I won't hear from him for days now. We need some information or we're shootin' blind for weeks. Catching one of her kids is our best chance. Failing that, a demon or two."

Sam gave a short chuckle. "And what do we do with Nyx? Take her with us?"

"I don't see what the problem is," Dean protested.

"She's three."

"We can go out, do some hunting, get back here before we even hear from Cas and Meg." Dean shrugged. "No problem."

"Big problem, Dean. She's three."

"Almost four. Remember Dad? We were out on hunts when we were three."

"Not quite how I remember it all the time. We were scared too." Sam glared. "She's three."

"This isn't some sort of sexist thing, is it, Sammy? Girls can take care of themselves, remember?" He grinned. "Come on, Sam. Last time we went to save Cas and Meg, that was a hunt."

Sam grabbed him by his shoulders and held on, punctuating his words with a shake. "She's. Three." He let him go. "Not to mention, last time we did take her, she disobeyed us and went right in there to find Cas. Nyx got lucky but she could have been hurt, Dean. You want that on your conscience?"

He missed the way Dean's face dropped a little. "Or imagine facing Meg and Cas after. They'd rip us apart."

"All right, all right, don't guilt me on this." Dean lifted a hand as if drawing in the air. "Well. I'm going stir crazy."

"Yeah, I got that. What's plan B? How many days of research into Eve and we've had little to come up with on getting her back into Purgatory. Or killed." Sam ran his hand over his jaw. "Maybe I missed something."

Dean looked down. "We're tired out on research, Sam. I was told not stress myself and you walloped yourself in the head a few weeks ago. Maybe we do need to just lie back and relax." He shuddered. "Can't do it, sorry. I've been on the go for years and this is gonna kill me."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Maybe we just need a miracle."

A loud bang close by made them both jump. Newly arrived and dusted with snow, Kevin set his bag down on the closest chair and walked slowly towards the common room. He looked tired and rumpled from the long bus ride but he smiled at them anyway.

"Ask and ye shall receive," Dean muttered and then swore as Nyx squealed happily and ran past him to latch onto Kevin's leg. The prophet gave her a small hug in return and stood up.

"Nyxie, you're getting so big already," he said as he ruffled her dark hair. He tried walking but she held onto his leg and stepped on his foot, forcing him to walk stiff-legged towards the Winchesters. As hard as it made it for him to walk, he didn't try to shake her off. "Hey, guys."

They both smiled and nodded, Dean eying Nyx again. "I see you've met our resident gripper monkey."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Not monkey."

"Nyx," he warned, guessing the insult.

Kevin stooped down and wrapped his arm around Nyx's middle to pick her up, holding her under his arm like a large football though Dean thought he looked just as rail thin as she was and not strong enough. She started giggling immediately and despite how exhausted he was even Kevin smiled. Sam noticed the change when he touched Nyx though: as if he recharged immediately just being around her and seemed to be less worn-out.

"So what's up?"

"Just spent the worst ten hours on a bus you can imagine. Fat guy slobbering to the left of me, jokers to the right, that sort of thing." He carried Nyx with him towards the common room as he followed Dean and Sam. Breathless with giggling, she'd given up on fighting him. "You guys didn't get my text?"

"Which one?"

"Hunters are on high alert." He glanced down at Nyx and then smiled though it didn't reach his eyes. "They are very interested in some new creature in the world. Blaming you two. Again."

"We're used to that. Look, Dean wanted to hunt some case you found so…"

"I'm good for now," he said so abruptly that his brother blinked in surprise. He shrugged but his eyes hadn't left Kevin. "Kev needs his rest. We can wait."

"Hey, thanks." Kevin boosted Nyx back up so she was in his arms. "God, you're heavy. Are you eating more than Sam now?"

For a response, she pinched him hard in the side. He made a face and looked at the Winchesters. "Kid of angels and demons huh? And she pinches. God forbid she learn something worse."

"We're keeping her away from sharp objects for now," Sam admitted but his eyes were on Dean still. "She's due for something to eat, can you take her with you?"

"Yeah sure." He set her down on her feet. "Come on, Nyx."

"Bring me a present?" she demanded. Both Winchesters watched the interaction with barely hidden amusement as Kevin gave her a wide-eyed look before nodding.

"Yep, of course." He dug into his back pocket for something and then produced a folded up paper. "Voila. Map of Nebraska that I stole from the bus depot."

She unfolded the map immediately, puzzling over it as she tried to look at everything. "Nee-bra-skeh." She eyed a coffee stain, the lines on the map circling towns and places, and then smiled up him. "I like Nee-bra-skeh!"

"Might be of the few," Dean muttered though he gestured for her to follow Kevin. He watched Nyx toddle after the young man, immediately asking him questions of 'why?' and 'how?'. Better the prophet than him, he figured.

Sam peered at Dean thoughtfully. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" He started to shove by and the taller man caught him by the elbow, holding him still.

"You look cagey all of a sudden, Dean," he explained. "Something is bothering you."

"Being cooped up is what bothers me." He gave him a grin that didn't reach his eyes at all. "Just glad it might be over for a bit."

Even though the words seemed light hearted, Sam had the feeling he didn't mean them at all. He watched him leave and then sighed. "We're going to need you, Cas. I just hope Meg hasn't killed you yet."

---

Castiel wasn't sure what to make of Meg in this mood. Used to sex as a human, he thought he'd been accustomed to how it could feel: frenzied, passionate, sloppy, nervous. But he hadn't expected to enjoy lying so lazily with her like this. Meg hadn't said much when mid-way through his almost rapt watching of the weather channel she had rolled over and muttered for him to turn it off. The flirtatious glint in her eye he hadn't missed and he'd almost thrown the remote to the floor when she had straddled him. It had taken just a few kisses to get him distracted and the feel of her mouth on him had made him forget completely what he'd been doing. She claimed it was just her way of passing the time.

Unexpected or not, he could see the appeal behind her methods.

She tossed her head back, one hand braced on his stomach as she moved her body slowly on top of him. There was something devilish in her grin that made him grip her hips tighter as he watched her.

"You know, I think this is a 'make up for lost time' thing. Going for the record, Clarence?" she offered, thighs gripping him when he rolled up to meet her downward thrusts. Castiel watched her, using his body to help her rise and fall on top of him so that she could rock easier. She bit into her lower lip and nodded, silently praising him for doing it right, and he smiled, watching the way she arched her back and let her head fall back completely.

"Are you complaining?" he asked, not as out of breath as she was. Her snarky reply was lost as she came with a broken cry, her rhythm stuttering a little. Putting his hand on her stomach, he imagined that he could feel her muscles clenching and releasing within and he closed his eyes to follow behind her. His startled groan was the only thing remotely like how sex normally went between angel and demon; there was no wrecked furniture, nothing ripped and torn. Even the sweat on them was light and the sex had been pure laziness.

An angel would find something wrong with such sloth but he enjoyed it almost as much as when he had put her up against a door much earlier.

Meg gave a pleased hum and stooped down to plant a perfunctory kiss on his forehead before rolling off of him. The daylight was still peeking in through the blackout curtains and, once he recovered, he rolled off the bed to take care of himself. A quick glance in the bathroom mirror, at his ruffled hair and relaxed face, made it clear that her idea of sex to pass the time wasn't such a bad thing. He caught sight of a bruise on his chest where she'd bitten too hard, and he ran his palm over it to smooth the skin down again. But before he healed the bruise he stopped and shook his head, leaving it alone.

When he came back out, Meg had already hogged the majority of the bed.

"Demons," Castiel muttered to himself as he knelt beside her and physically shifted her around so he wasn't on a corner. "So greedy."

"In my nature," Meg answered without opening her eyes or giving him a blanket. "Not like you need the covers."

"If I didn't find that sinning side to you so endearing now, I'd be upset," he said as he took his spot on a third of the bed. Meg shuffled back into him and he heard her huff as he slipped under the heavy flannel with her.

"Don't sleep with the demon then. You can take the…" His hand slipped down her front, cupped a breast as he made himself comfortable. "Floor."

"Really?" He ran his thumb over her nipple and it hardened instantly. "It feels like you would like me to stay."

"Shut up." The phone rang suddenly, piercing the silence, and from his place sprawled against Meg's back Castiel sighed and reached over to the table. She made a faint murmur, head burying into the pillow, and he pressed a kiss against her neck to shush her.

"Yes?"

"Just a check in. Nyx is safe, so don't worry. Kevin's here and she's spending her time bugging him," Dean said and he lowered his voice. "Still fighting with Meg?"

"Oh. Yes, of course." Castiel couldn't resist smirking against her skin as she leaned up into him and made more sleepy murmurs. "Is Nyx awake?"

"Trawling around behind Kevin again. He's not going to get any peace."

He sighed, wanting to talk to her. "So she's not around."

"Well, we're busy researching Eve but we're pretty empty-handed. We could use the—"

Castiel pressed the end button and tossed his phone down, sighing as he curled up around Meg again.

"He'll be pissed."

"I know." His head rested against the back of her neck but knew he had to move after too many hours rest. As good as staying here felt, he had to be sure they were safe. There was a slight tension in her from before now, as she seemed to sense his intention. "I need to go see if there are more creatures at the borders. I'll be back."

He felt how stiff she went and he stayed with her for a little longer, until he thought she was starting to sleep again.

---

Meg waited for him to leave again, presumably to go see if any news had been spread about the monsters, before she slid from the bed. As much as she had actually enjoyed the past few days, where she had figured out exactly what Castiel had learned in the past few years, she felt cooped up in the small room. The urge to do something, mischievous, evil, something, was so strong that she moved fast to get dressed. Grabbing what money she had and his angel sword, she debated on how long it would take him to get back.

She locked the door again as she left the room, noticing in surprise the growing darkness.

How long had they been in there for?

It actually made her uncomfortable to realize how much time she had willingly wasted with Castiel. How happily she still wanted to go back. Shoving that thought away, she started off for the bar and zipped her coat up against the cold wind. If anything, the quiet was a good sign.

What she felt when she was half-way between bar and motel was something not like a monster. It was something else more familiar and it made her pause and turn.

"Who's following me now?" she asked out loud.

"You're slipping up, Meg. I never expected to see you here."

The sudden childish voice didn't mask the hate in the words and Meg frowned, looking around and seeing nothing. She reached down to her belt, and heard a few footsteps just behind her.

When she spotted a boy, not even twelve years old, gesturing at her. At first she wondered if he was warning her but a car pulled into the lot and shone its headlamps on him. What she saw made her stomach turn. She wasn't above using humans to get what she wanted but the demon inside this boy was literally killing him just for giggles.

Definitely one of Abaddon's.

---

The shapeshifters, apparently, weren't the only ones with territory so close. A nest of vampires, all newly made and vicious, were prowling the streets when Castiel made his way into the city edges. What news he had followed led him to the outskirts, where it had seemed that more and more of Eve's children were centring. It was possible they did know he and Meg were here, hiding, but as he eavesdropped on the vampires, he realized that wasn't likely. The decoys of them had distracted what trackers Eve had sent out and these vampires were too young to do much but gossip. Keeping himself invisible, the angel followed the younger members of the nest, still drunk on human blood, to rundown house on the poorer end of town. Suddenly wishing for the weight of his overcoat, which sometimes made him actually feel like what he was, Castiel leaned back and watched the pair pass him on the sidewalk.

"The Mother sent word."

"But no one actually knows what she wants."

"Some angel and humans she has a hard-on for," the taller male said and Castiel squinted a little to see if he was maybe older than what he was. But no; this one was as young as the woman beside him.

"What's DeVries think?"

"We're not getting involved. There's a bunch of nests going underground, rather than helping out." The girl shifted uncomfortably as she passed Castiel again. He could smell how bloated with blood she was and he resisted the urge to smite her there. "You heard the stories though, right? Some angel the Winchesters hang out with got something going on with a demon."

The fact that he was a source of gossip was something that barely phased Castiel.

"So what?"

"What if the Mother makes us do something?" The vampire raised her voice almost frantically. "I'm not prepared for that. I just want to… want to live forever and be pretty and… I don't want to go around being a warrior."

A more selfish motivation, Castiel wasn't sure he had heard but he wasn't disgusted, he just felt sympathetic.

The man beside her shrugged his massive shoulders. "How hard can killing the Winchesters be?"

"Very difficult, actually," Castiel said as he materialized before them and put his hand over their faces. Their fangs brushed his hands but he ignored them. "I'm sorry."

He ignored their shrieking as he burned them.

---

To be fair, Meg thought to herself as she watched the demon pick itself up, sometimes when demon took child-form they forgot the limitations of the body. The child body worked on humans; very few would hesitate to strike a child. Demons had no problems with it.

Even with everything in her own life that had changed, Meg could still see the demon face on the body and once the child and her had been alone in the back alley behind the bar, she hadn't hesitated to strike. The demon had been so startled that he hadn't really fought back all that hard and Meg had knocked him out easily. Using her power and a mixture of tossed out paint to create a trap, she had all but thrown the demon into the trap and waited patiently for him to wake up.

Still bearing the cuts and bruises from her brief fight, Meg wiped at her mouth and walked slowly around the circle. The angel sword she kept balanced in one hand, lightly turning it so that the demon on the ground could catch the glimmer. The round chubby face upturned towards her.

"Crowley said you had a deal with him."

She rolled her eyes and watched him stand up. "If you believe that."

"Still being the angel's pet? Or what would be the term for an angel's bitch?"

Meg lifted the knife at the same time she bent her power toward him and he spun in the air, slamming down to the ground once more. Childish whimpers filled the air and she shook her head. "Demon, remember? Try that shit on a human."

The demon began laughing, something more guttural that belonged in the throat of a grown man, not a child. "You're dead. That's what I came to tell you. The Queen sent us all, those she could spare, to see what remained of you. Not much."

"Old news." She reached out and poked at him with the knife just to watch him squirm. "No one likes old news."

"You've gone soft, Meg." The fat shoulders rolled a bit. "There was a time when you would have killed another demon."

"Yeah, yeah." She stood straighter and turned back to lean against the wall. The smirk on her face dropped at his next words.

"How's the bastard? What's her name again? The one you are so set on protecting," he said slyly and then glanced up at her. He realized that the look she sent him was no longer one of superiority or boredom. Her clenched jaw signalled and narrowed eyes were both warning signs.

Meg didn't answer and she watched the large grey eyes dart over the area desperately. He clearly thought she was going to kill him right away but she had a better idea. Tapping her fingers on her hip, she let just a little bit more of her power leech out, twisting the demon about in a painful circle so he landed on his stomach again. She walked slowly around the trap, tapping the sword against her thigh and hummed lowly.

"Come on, Clarence. I'm waiting for you," she whispered.

As if on cue, she felt Castiel's arrival and he stood across from her and the other demon. He looked at the boy, blinked as if surprised to see a demon in a child, and then levelled a questioning look at her.

"Found him close to the restaurant," she explained. "But I'm betting it was just him getting lucky."

"Getting lucky," the demon said, obviously disgusted. "I found you. That isn't luck."

Meg's fingers tightened and he gasped.

"He's taken a child's body," Castiel observed with his usual stoniness.

"All the points," Meg muttered sarcastically. The demon charged to the edge of the circle and then fell back again. He shrieked angrily just before Meg put her hand up to her lips. She even held up the sword again "Can it."

He nodded, slowly as if he was worried she would strike.

"Maybe we should just slice you."

"Meg." Castiel's voice snapped her out of her perusal of the demon and she glanced over her shoulder at him. He was shaking his head. "No."

Teeth grinding, she looked back at the boy and tightened her fingers. He stared back at her and as she and the demon faced off she felt Castiel come up behind her.

"The child he's in is innocent," his hand wrapped around her arm, "we'll do this another way."

The voice that came out of the little boy was anything but childish. "Abaddon didn't like your deal with Crowley. All to save that brat."

Angel and demon both looked down at the boy.

"Did you think a deal with the King of the Crossroads is the same as a deal with the Queen?" His grey eyes went black. "You're not that stupid, Meg."

Hand still tight around Meg's arm, Castiel pulled her back slowly.

The demon turned his head to the side, so fast that his neck cracked a little. "Your Queen wishes to see you, Meg," he said. "That is why I'm here."

"Does she know about Azazel?" she asked before Castiel could stop her and the demon stiffened a little. "Rumour has it he's been back all this time."

"Impossible. Azazel is dead."

"So was I."

Castiel stared down at the boy. "Run back to your mistress and tell her."

The demon took only two steps before it was tethered in its place by the trap. Castiel's eyes narrowed a little and he glanced back at Meg to see her hand in a tight fist.

"Meg."

"You think that letting a demon run free, knowing where we are, is a plan?" she demanded. His hand tightened to bruising on her arm.

"The child won't survive an exorcism."

There was no kindness in her voice as she responded with, "Then that's where you come in."

He glared at her in profile, and Meg's eyes finally came back to his face. He held her look as long as he dared but knew she had a point. They were condemning the child the demon had attached itself to even worse than an adult. The chances of Abaddon being forgiving to the demon when it came back with news of Azazel were slim. And if the demon was fast in returning to his Queen, then the motel would be crawling with demons. The only way was to send him back to the Pit where he would have to struggle to get out once more.

Letting her go, Castiel stepped back from Meg. The demon child watched them both warily, eyes flickering between colours. The devil's trap now kept it pinned and as Meg began to mutter an exorcism, forcing it on the demon as she stared at him, watching the way he twisted.

Castiel's fingers outstretched at his side as the demon shot itself out the meatsuit, threatened enough by just the start of the incantation. Meg's eyes followed the plume of black smoke as it hit the trap line and then started to recoil. With a snap of guttural Latin, she finished the exorcism, watching as the demon fell back towards the bottom of the trap. Castiel reached out into the circle, feeling the hot wave of Meg's power slamming into him, and snatched the boy out of the circle. He was already unconscious from it and with a press of his hand against the boy's forehead he sent him into a deeper state, repairing the damage.

Meg simply watched as the smoke fell to the ground, hearing as Castiel couldn't hear the demon's fury at being exorcised.

The angel and demon didn't speak for a while, the tension building slowly.

"I'll need to call Dean," Castiel said finally. Meg nodded, her blackened eyes slowly fading back to brown almost as if she didn't want the change.

"Makes sense." She glanced over her shoulder at him. It looked like she was ready to say more until she shrugged a shoulder. "Let's…"

"I'll get him home. You go back to the motel and wait."

"I can…"

"Wait. We won't leave yet. With the fireworks that went up here, the monsters will be watching and where there is one demon there is bound to be more." He actually gave her the tiniest of smiles. "A few more days won't hurt."

Meg looked at the child in his arms and wisely didn't say a word. It wasn't until they were back in the motel, relatively safe despite her frustration, that she rounded on him to complain.

Only to find it wasn't as fun to fight with him when he just sat and watched her pace back and forth, taking her anger. He didn't say a word, just let her fume until she was too exhausted to resist the way he pulled her down with him.

That almost endearingly patient look he gave her was enough to make her wonder if he had heard a word she had said.

---

The final days passed and Meg found herself slowly succumbing to his comfort again. He didn't say a word over how troubled she was, and Meg didn't thing to say more to him about the demon they had exorcised. The angel was obviously concerned but as he had pointed out, they were attracting just enough attention with his decoys that no one knew what to do. Castiel stayed with her and they left the room only to get her food or to find supplies, sometimes to lead the monsters astray and see what rumours were just starting to build. But always they came back together and just stayed inside the room when there was nothing else to do.

Somehow for the first time in years both of them had no urge to keep moving.

Meg was curled up against him, one leg thrown across his groin so she could feel the half-swelled heat of him against her thigh, when the moment hit. Under her cheek she could feel his breathing, the solid thud of his heart beat with the press of his warm skin against hers, and still it was surprising. The almost drugging sensation of comfort was there but she realized what they were doing. If they had been human still, maybe it would have been more obvious to her.

They were reconciling. They were sliding back into that comfortable state they had been in before they had separated years ago.

Not like it wasn't bad thing. Was it?

Her eyes cracked open, spying the almost empty box of condoms he'd thrown to the side, and remembered how he'd quite resolutely submitted to her demands that they don't have a repeat of three years ago. That he'd known all about protection had made her laugh and maybe feel a bit of jealousy, but he set about making her forget it. Castiel didn't see it as absurd and he seemed almost pleased with himself in finding ways to seduce her as quickly as she had seduced him.

With a contented grin, she stretched and wrapped herself tighter around his lean body, head resting on his stomach. Castiel's arm kept her against him and she hummed, nuzzling the scar tissue on his chest. His other hand stroked up her back, curling strands around his fingers absently. His body felt almost too warm and it pulled her into a doze she hadn't expected.

Her personal angel pillow. She always said that teasingly to try to push it away but it was true.

"You know, with all this cuddling?" she murmured, clearing her throat and he made an agreeable sound, combing through her hair gently. "This could count as some sort of reunion. Have to wonder if this is what honeymoon sex feels like."

"I suppose." His fingers snagged in a tangle and he worked it out for her. "I missed this. You. I missed being there for Nyx and I will always regret that… but this, here with you, is what I dreamed of."

Meg was quiet for a while, absorbing the way he was trying to comfort her. Castiel seemed to be thinking something over, his body suddenly tight underneath her. He pushed her hair away from her face and slowly pulled her up his body until he could look at her face. The narrow-eyed gaze he gave her made her grin wickedly back to cover how uncomfortable it made her. When it was clear he wasn't going to succumb to laughter, she started to pull away.

The hand in her hair tightened just enough that she stayed still and he let her go.

"Meg. Why?" His fingers smoothed down her face, as if testing the mask she wore. "Why now?"

Her eyes darted to the side. "Why does it matter?"

He sighed and cupped her cheek in his hand, drawing her close. "Because it does now."

"Told you, it was perspective and time. What more do you want from me then?" Meg felt his mouth ghosting over her neck. "Confessions of a demon?"

"Just honesty." He pressed a simple kiss against her throat. Simple but it made her shudder. "That's all."

"That's a big order to a demon, feathers."

"I know."

He set about seducing her into talking and she let him with the sort of sleepy feeling of someone who felt the world was unreal. His fingers traced over her back and sides but he made no move to do more, even when he turned her under him. Meg's eyes were half-closed but she fiddled with his hair as he pressed his forehead to her stomach and rested there in an odd mimicry of how she had slept upon him.

"You knew, three years ago, how I started to feel about you, didn't you?" she asked.

He murmured an agreeable sound.

"That I loved you then." Her voice was low and nervous. "I guess it didn't really change. Maybe some things don't."

Meg hadn't realized a whisper could be so loud when the world went quiet. The low growling words had sounded all demon and less human than ever before but she knew he had heard it. The hands that had been stroking her sides stilled.

She closed her eyes. "Would be easier if I didn't."

He shifted over her and nudged her hand away from her eyes. When she looked up at him, he stroked her crown. "No, it wouldn't."

His head dropped and he kissed her deeply, tasting what the words had done to her mouth. He broke the kiss before it could deepen further.

"I've been waiting three years to hear that," he muttered just before kissing her again. She heard the crinkle of plastic but didn't look away from his eyes as he toyed with her mouth, seducing her into a kiss. He didn't need both hands to tease her anyway and she found it frustrating he was able to draw her under so easily. "You always did have to test my patience."

"I was going to tell you the day my memory was buried." She shifted under him as he slowly, and with practiced care, sank inside of her. He didn't move any further, just continued to lazily kiss her when she let him. "It…it had felt right then."

"Why then?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe I felt safer than usual, maybe I stopped caring about how it could change me. It didn't really. Still a demon." She shrugged and kissed him back when his mouth stayed within her reach. He groaned and licked at her tongue before pulling back.

"And now?"

"I just want that feeling back." She looked away. "The last time I loved anyone that way was how I came to my first deal. If you run and fight for hundreds of years, scraping by with just what you are… you get tired when you keep losing."

He tipped her chin back to him and she saw his other arm brace over her head on the pillow. "You won't lose me."

Meg nervously tried to look away because the honesty burned. He stroked her cheek and watched her intently.

"You won't lose me, and it gets easier," he said. "Why do you think I was so willing to fight to stay with you now?"

"Sucker for punishment?" she jibed tiredly.

"I love you." He felt her hips arch into his, trying to get him to move, but he only shifted a little and kept settled on-top of her. "It was what kept me alive, even if I didn't remember why."

Meg swallowed and rested her hands on his shoulder. "Always terrifying then?"

"Always." He ran his fingers down her neck. "But worth it, I've learned. Angels love differently than humans, why would it be any different for a demon?" He kissed her again and murmured against her lips, "Say it."

"You're going to be annoying about this, aren't you?" she asked.

"One time won't hurt, Meg." He glanced over at his quiet cellphone. "And we're almost out of time before we go back."

She didn't answer him, just let the tension build and build. Castiel watched her face and bent his head to rest it on the pillow beside her, his body flexing as he moved a little. He felt her hands move over his bare skin, felt the slight prick of her nails skating tracks over his arms and chest. He could feel her thinking, he could swear, and he turned his head a little to touch her mouth with his.

He heard the three words, uttered with seriousness and a little bit of fear. "I love you," she admitted finally and she felt the weight of the words sink in and then release, the tension leaving her body.

Castiel pulled up a little, pushed her hair from her eyes and stared into the black depths, seeing his own reflection in them. Meg stared back at him, waiting for him to say something.

"That's my girl," he muttered, parodying her words long ago when he'd reawakened to an angel state. Meg let it go and felt the tension in her lower body building as he touched her. His heart was beating as fast as hers and she knew it had everything to do with her confession. It was why her own heart was beating so fast that it ached. Her arms slid around his shoulders and pulled him down onto her body, her legs wrapping around him tighter to keep him with her.

---

"You might not think you're special, Dean," Anna's voice, gravelly but sweet in his ear, made him shiver, "but how much you care for those you think worthy of being family makes you special."

Jerking awake on the sofa, Dean stared at the blue on the television screen for a long moment before groaning and rolling over to turn the screen off.

He felt restless again. A matter of a few days and he'd been bouncing off the walls.

They were overdue for a hunt for some sort of action.

He needed to get out so he could think clearly on what he needed to do.

Eyes on the ceiling, he blindly dialled Castiel's new number. The groggy hello he got in response made him simply plunge ahead. "We're going out on a hunt in the next few days. Kevin's here with Nyx. She'll be safe."

He heard the angel's protest just as he hung up.

---

Lying with her back to Castiel, Meg felt the tension go through him from his shoulders to his toes. He sat up and left her, his warmth gone immediately, and Meg kept her eyes closed instead of following him.

Hell, if he hadn't noticed how tense she had been just a few minutes before the phone call, he was blind. Even when he had made love to her, the playfulness they had shared before had turned into a sense of desperation and fear. He hadn't said anything at the aggressive way she had returned his touches, just slowed her down and told her he wasn't leaving her.

A confession of that magnitude for her should have lifted weight from her shoulders but instead she felt vulnerable. Like a nerve completely exposed and bare for a knife.

Without thinking, she reached down and touched the faint scar tissue between her breasts.

The running water, the sound of him dressing, eventually made her open her eyes to see him looking for his shoes under the bed. Throwing her knotted hair over her shoulder, sending the scent of sex, sulphur and rain through the air, she sniffed and sat back against the battered headboard. She even artfully positioned her legs just a little, so the smooth length of them were exposed seductively, but Castiel ignored it.

Right. Single minded angel was back.

"What's up with Rocky?" she asked half-heartedly.

"Dean said Kevin's returned and he thinks they need to go on a hunt."

Her eyebrow arched. "That's not news."

"They want to leave Nyx with Kevin." Castiel walked away and then stopped as he came to the armchair. Meg crossed her arms over her chest.

"You don't like the idea." At his look, she smirked and tucked the bed-sheet around her body. "You get all 'stone-wall-face', when you hate something." Her eyebrows lifted when he didn't smile. "Seriously?"

"I am not fond of the idea, no," the angel admitted as he took a seat.

"Thought your kind was all hot-to-trot 'I'll save you John Connor' when it came to the prophets."

He puzzled over the reference for a moment before understanding. "Yes. Our instructions, burned into us with Creation, is to protect all prophets. To protect the word." He made a show of looking out the window at the snow covered lot. "I just don't trust him."

"The Hellhound thing?" Blue eyes came back to her so sharply that Meg gave him an uneasy smile. "You're not the only one who can interrogate a prophet."

"Kevin's not the same man he was years ago. For a year or so I thought he was better but he's haunted. And so set in doing what he believes is right," Castiel said.

"Not so sure hurting Nyx is on his list," she responded, standing up and making her way over to him.

"I know." He sat back as she approached, and stared up at her. "But she may be hurt anyway."

He shuffled back as she straddled his lap and slowly sat down, hand going to his chest. There was nothing sexual about it, nor in the way her eyes roamed over his face or her hands tightened on his belt. He slid his hand into his pocket and fished out the necklace he'd been carrying for days now. Without waiting for her to say anything, he moved her hair aside and put the necklace back around her neck. The charms rested high on her collarbone and he traced them, feeling her skin prickle at his touch. The intimacy of the act, the way he smoothed his palm over her throat, felt right and he wasn't sure he could let go. Reluctantly, he looked up into her eyes and saw her almost regretful look.

"Honeymoon's over, angel."

---

Castiel felt guilty enough about the battered wall and bed frame that he went to the front office to pay for the damage before they left. The manager gave him raised eyebrows and a leer that made the angel uncomfortable enough to slide an extra ten down.

"How's the girlfriend?" the manager asked as Castiel quickly handed over some more cash to cover the damage they had done to the door. Castiel shrugged.

"She's fine."

Meg came in, brushing snow off of her hair and the manager gave the demon an appreciative look.

"I bet she is," he said almost lecherously and Castiel noticed him staring at her. Meg was apparently oblivious but he put his hand over hers to keep her from stealing from the charity jar. Or so he told himself. He stepped into her possessively and glared at the manager as if to seal off the rest of his small claim. The demon ignored it but the manager backed off.

As the older man turned away to finish the form, Meg put herself between Castiel and the front desk. He looked down at her as if wondering what was going through her mind. She smirked and then jerked him down to plant a hard kiss on his mouth. He couldn't stop his moan of surprise but in the next instance she slipped around him and out the door.

He blinked, staring after her.

The manager looked at him.

"Pretty girls always get your number?"

Castiel nearly answered when the Cougar roared by, tires slipping on the cement. Immediately, he patted his coat pocket find that Meg had stolen the car keys. "Oh."

The manager roared with laughter. "Keeps you on your toes at least?"

He turned to see Castiel's reaction but the angel was gone.

In the front seat, Meg grinned as immediately Castiel appeared beside her.

"That wasn't funny."

"It was a little funny." She looked over at him. "Amazing. Slip you a bit of tongue and you let me take what I want."

He was silent for a moment. "From what I remember." He held up the angel sword he had stolen back from her in the same moment she'd kissed him in the office. "You have the same weakness."

The wicked grin was back as she arched an eyebrow. "Not bad. And for your next trick?"

He didn't rise to the bait. "Just drive, Meg."

She turned onto the highway and then gunned it so hard that he rocked back in his seat. "You given any thought to what the hell we're going to do? We can't just stay in the bunker till the world ends."

He nodded. "I know."

---

Dean was shoving another round of silver bullets into his knapsack when he heard a familiar sound of air moving and the flutter of cloth. Turning, he jumped as Castiel stood just behind him in the low garage they kept to shelter the Impala.

"Where the hell did you come from?" The angel's look made him lift a hand. "Never mind, don't want to know. How'd the fake trails go?"

"Seemed to have worked." Castiel leaned back on the car.

Dean zipped his bag. "Good. How's your gal Friday?"

"She's Meg." There was a slightly lighter note in Castiel's voice that made Dean turn to look over at him.

"Ah. huh." He finished packing and closed the trunk. "You're in one piece at least."

"Not for her lack of trying," Castiel muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing." He sighed and looked at the equipment he'd been packing. "Werewolves?"

"Louisiana pack. Month or so ago Sam and I had that pack down there. Told them to get lost and they didn't listen. So. We hunt." Dean shoved his hands in his pocket. The sight of Castiel back in civvies still was enough to freak him out, thinking about three years ago when human Castiel had been a source of almost daily worry. "You came back so soon because of Kevin?"

The angel looked away.

"Kid loves that little girl, Cas. He'd protect her."

"I don't have the luxury of being hopeful about Kevin, Dean." Castiel leaned back. "At all."

"Fine. You stay here, you go stir crazy." The hunter look more offended that Castiel didn't trust his judgement. "Let Meg pop you off for all I goddamn care." He started off for the interior garage and Castiel watched, puzzled as to why Dean was so touchy.

But rather than follow him, he zapped himself to where he'd left Meg. With Sam and Kevin researching, the bunker was almost tomb-like.

It would make this easier.

He saw Meg's unease as he came into the common room, where she was sitting on the coffee table. The long trip back had been full of silence, though most of it had been pleasant, and he knew she was thinking over his plan. That she hadn't picked a fight with him over it meant that maybe she was willing to go along with the idea for a little while. She wasn't sure what to make of his newest idea. Bundled up on the couch in a heavy pile of pillows and blankets, Nyx was sound asleep across from her.

"We could stay here," he offered as he came in. Nyx hadn't woken up when they came back and he had no heart to wake her.

"What's the point?" There was something defeated in her voice. "Either way, we have to find a way to keep running and maybe we need to leave. Let Winchesters do their thing and we do ours."

He moved to sit beside her. The old table squeaked a bit under their combined weight.

They both heard Kevin walking close by, yawning as Dean jostled him into the room. He called out Castiel's name and he helped Meg up. She stared up at him and he stared back before he put his hand on the small of her back and led her away. Leaving Nyx where she was, they walked to the archive room. Kevin looked half-asleep but surprised to see them, while Sam looked remarkably alert.

"You guys came back early," he said, actually sounding pleased.

"We needed to."

"Why? We were…"

"Nyx is leaving with them," Dean blurted out.

"What, you guys are going to practice the 'nuclear family' thing?" Kevin joked but Castiel refused to look at him. "I said I'd take care of her until you came back. You don't trust me?" One look at Meg's face made it clear what she thought and he blinked a few times as if trying to figure it out. "Seriously?"

"They're serious," Dean said. "No matter the favour we pulled for them."

Castiel and Meg both glared at him next but his surly expression hadn't changed.

"We've imposed on you all long enough. Eve's been distracted. We can hide elsewhere, keep her from finding the bunker. That way you are as safe as I can make you," Castiel said.

"You two? Together?" Sam looked at him suspiciously. "Weren't you at each other's throats before?"

Meg shook her head and looked up at the lights. "Not the point."

Kevin stared at Castiel. "Come on, man."

"Are you still having visions?" the angel countered. He met Kevin's almost desperate look and thought he saw guilt there, not realizing that the prophet clearly still saw the deaths of the hunters in his mind. Ripped apart, screaming for mercy. The angel simply stared and let him damn himself in a way that he couldn't hide.

"Not as bad. They aren't as focussed and clear." He nervously looked away and caught Meg's eye. "That vision of the hellhounds. I think it had more to do with you than with Nyx. A way of God telling me you'd be woken up soon."

"Anyone else know you had some visions?" Dean demanded. This was news to him and Sam about Kevin still having visions and he hid it well. But faced with an angel, he seemed to crack.

"No one. Garth did his best to calm the other hunters down but I can't say they aren't looking for Nyx or for the rest of you."

"Great."

Castiel sighed. "We'll leave."

"Might as well stay, where else can you go?" Sam offered. Meg eyed Castiel curiously. He had never answered that question completely for her either.

"We'll be fine. You both need to hunt, as you said. Kevin can research and we'll stay out of your way, do what he have to do. Thank you for what you did for us." He picked up his bag from the floor. "Meg?"

Almost reluctantly, she followed him to the common room. The brothers watched Castiel pick up the sleeping girl and Meg picked up a duffel bag she had set there before their small meeting. Angel and demon seemed quiet, too quiet, and neither Winchester knew what to make of it. There was a loud flutter and then the bunker suddenly felt empty without the three supernatural creatures.

---

They stood outside the small cabin, fresh fallen snow and the trees that surrounded its worn frame giving it even more of a rustic look. Standing at the rotted garden gate, Meg took in the familiar sight warily, even as Castiel boosted Nyx up in his arms. She muttered sleepily and moved closer into his warmth. Knowing she'd follow, he walked ahead of Meg, still cuddling Nyx close. The door swung open for him and he waited for Meg to walk ahead of him. The demon hesitated on the porch's threshold, her hands clutching her bag so tightly that her knuckles were white.

Castiel waited, letting her choose, and eventually Meg walked through the door into the front room. The furniture was covered in white sheets, the floors dusty and the air stale from being closed up for so long.

But the moment Castiel joined her, they felt the magic and wards pulse to life in welcome reaction.

The safe-house had woken up.