A/N: Thanks for reviewing, Muffing! Yeah, it really made me mad when Dean (and even Sam on occasion, though not as often to be fair, and worse when he was soulless) talked to down to Cas just so unnecessarily. I like to fix that in my fics, haha, and have them see the light and start being nicer.

Fortunately, with Meg here to call them out, the guys will realize sooner than they do in the show that they're being jerks. Enjoy!

Hell was just as awful as Castiel remembered it.

The first time he'd been here, he'd been a devout, powerful angel of the Lord, assured in his righteousness and filled with divine purpose. Hell had terrified him, and rightfully so, but his fear had been overpowered by his desire to rescue Dean Winchester.

The second time Castiel had been here, he'd been a newly promoted seraph, too desperate to save Sam to be stopped by the sheer stupidity of flying into the heart of Hell itself.

But his memories of Hell involved blood and torture and nightmares. Castiel did not want to be here, any more than he'd wanted to journey in the first two times; Meg was correct that both had nearly cost him his life. But, as before, he refused to turn back, not when there was one last soul deserving rescue.

And so he braved the flight, holding tightly to Dean and wishing yet again that the stubborn human hadn't insisted on coming.

They landed in the shadows of an immense fortress silhouetted against an eerie, fiery sky; the same prison where Castiel had found Dean. The angel knew very little of the geography of Hell, save for what he'd seen himself. This was the most likely place he could think of to start their search for Bobby.

"Ugh, the smell," Dean immediately grumbled as the pair paused to gather themselves. He wrinkled his nose, but even Castiel with his limited understanding of human emotions could see the disgust was a poor cover for the terror the hunter was facing.

If Castiel, an angel, found this place so formidable, what nightmares must it bring back to the human who had spent forty years first being tortured and then being twisted into a torturer himself?

Castiel didn't mention this, though, merely dropped his blade down into his hand with a wary glance around the dark crags surrounding the fortress. "Crowley will have his demons on the lookout for us," he said. "We'll have to be cautious."

Together, the two began to circumnavigate the structure, searching for a possible point of entry. At first, they moved in silence, but Castiel could feel Dean fuming beside him. Finally the hunter seemed unable to stay quiet, as he snapped,

"I'm not 'eager' to sacrifice you. If you want to go, just go."

Castiel sighed. "I know you aren't. And of course I'm not going to leave you to do this on your own."

"It's not like you owe Bobby anything. I'm not gonna order you in here."

Meg certainly seemed to have gotten under Dean's skin. Castiel wondered if it was because the hunter recognized the glimmer of truth in her words. "I said I'm not going to leave you. Or Bobby. Meg was right, you don't have to order me to save him."

"But you think she's right, you think we boss you around?" Dean pressed. "Seriously? After the way the other angels treated you, you think we are anything like that? You're our friend, not our… our servant."

Castiel bit his tongue. Now was not the time to be having this discussion, not that he would have willingly entered into it regardless of the circumstances. He knew he was not their servant. But he also knew how much the Winchesters had over him. Even if they didn't willfully abuse that power as his own brothers and sisters occasionally would.

His silence must have lasted too long, because Dean scoffed and shifted his grip on the extra angel blade Castiel had procured for him.

"Oh, that's just great. Great, Cas."

"Perhaps we should be focusing on our mission."

"Yeah. Sure. Don't worry, I'm not gonna order you to talk to me, either."

Castiel stopped and turned to Dean. It seemed the hunter wasn't going to be satisfied until they had discussed this, though the thought made Castiel's chest constrict. He didn't want to argue.

"I have always wanted to assist you," he said diplomatically.

Dean stopped as well, glowering at him. There was uncertainty in the green depths, though. "Why? Just because we told you to? Is that…?"

The angel heaved another impatient sigh and refrained from rolling his eyes. "You know, the reason I fell was because of my belief in free will. Should I want to refuse anything you demand of me, I'm free to do so."

"Yeah, but would you?"

No.

"Of course." A lie. Castiel had too much to make up for and too much to lose… there was almost nothing he would have refused.

Dean eyed him, but thankfully seemed to accept the answer. His scowl deepened as he turned to keep walking around the towering kingdom. "Meg. I'll always appreciate what she did for you, but… come on. What do you see in her, anyway?"

Castiel was silent for another moment. In some ways, he didn't fully understand it himself. In other ways, it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Meg protected me when I had no means of protecting myself."

The hunter shifted, a flash of something across his face, but he quickly looked away and grumbled, "That's it? Look, man, I'm not trying to come between you, but if you honestly think she didn't have ulterior motives-"

"She did," Castiel cut him off. He stopped, waiting until Dean had turned to look at him before finishing, "But those motives never came to fruition. Meg thought she was making a powerful friend, yet stayed even once discovering her mistake. I told you I would not refuse any demand you made of me, but Meg never made any. She never once expected me to use my abilities to do anything for her, never made use of the angel at her disposal. No one else can make that claim."

Castiel's eyes bored into Dean's. "Not even you."

He turned away, not wanting to see the hurt in his friend's expression, but the fact was an indisputable one. They walked in silence after that, for which Castiel was grateful.

Finally, they had made it the entire way around, but had seen no entrance other than the front door. Castiel did not care to try those odds. Especially since they weren't certain Bobby was even being held here. He glanced up at the parapet high over their heads, mentally gauging the distance.

"Can you get us up there?" Dean asked, instinctively turning to watch both of their backs.

"Yes. But if there's a way to scale the wall, I would rather try that first."

Dean cocked a questioning glance back at him, and Castiel looked away.

"I don't want to use my wings more than necessary in here. I have to keep them tucked in as much as possible in order to keep them from burning. This atmosphere… the fires, the smog… it's all toxic."

The hunter was silent for a moment, before finally asking in a gruffer voice, "So when you came to get me… and then Sam…?"

Still studying the wall with a contemplative frown, Castiel shrugged. "My wings used to be white."

"Cas."

He didn't turn right away, fearing perhaps he had said too much, and now Dean was even more angry with him. When a hand fell on his shoulder, though, firm instead of demanding, Castiel twisted to face the hunter. Dean's eyes held sorrow and resolve.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't regret raising you from-"

"No. I mean, yeah, that too. But, everything. I guess… we've really taken you for granted. You deserve better than that. And demanding you come back here without even stopping to think what it might cost you… or what it's already cost you… it was a really crappy thing to do. So, I'm sorry, Cas."

Castiel felt his sincerity, entrenched within true contrition. The angel's clenched jaw eased enough to offer a small smile. "You are my friend," he said. "But after we rescue Bobby, why don't we try to avoid Hell as much as possible?"

"Deal," Dean returned with an awkward chuckle. "Yeah, this place sucks. And, um… I'm glad Meg showed back up. She's… she's good for you. I never really realized how good."

Castiel's smile widened a bit more despite the poisonous fumes surrounding them and the perilous mission they faced. "Yes. But for now, I think I'm going to have to fly us-"

"You're not going anywhere, angel!"

They arrived from thin air, small popping noises heralding the appearance of each demon in turn. First a few… then a dozen. Then even more. Taken by surprise, Castiel barely had time to slice one of the Hell denizens down before he and Dean were surrounded by a seething mass of the monsters. He yelled, reaching for Dean with no other thought than retreat. There were too many to fight. They would have to find another way to get Bobby.

"Cas!" Dean shouted, not there when the angel tried to grab him. He'd been pulled back by four or five of the foul creatures, all dragging him away from Castiel. The hunter couldn't raise his weapon to fight back with his arms snagged and held.

"Close your eyes!" Castiel snapped, wielding his blade against another demon that lunged towards him. His free hand rose in preparation to smite as many as possible, even as he knew with sinking heart that it would do no good. The demon he faced was speared on the end of the blade, but had already been replaced by ten more before Castiel could gather enough power. They surged in, tackling the angel to the ground from behind by sheer force of numbers.

"Take them!" snarled the demon in charge—identifiable by her position of safety in the rear of the horde.

Castiel fought ferociously even trapped on his stomach, but his sword was wrested from his grasp. He squirmed as the demons crushed his head against the sulfurous floor, nearly choking him with the noxious dust and the heat of Hell's surface. From his position, Castiel couldn't even count the pairs of legs standing over him, nor see the mass of demons on his back as they pinned his limbs spread-eagle to the ground. Celestial steel pressed against his cheek to remind him that they had his blade.

"Gotcha now, halo," the demon snickered. "Alright, lads, get 'em to the throne room."

With a rush of displaced air and a sickening swoop, the rocky ground disappeared to be replaced by a smoother, flagstone floor.

The hands didn't let go, hauling him up. Castiel stumbled as they yanked him forward before he'd found his footing.

"Dean?" he yelled in desperation when he couldn't immediately see his friend. If the demons separated them, if they took Dean away…

"Cas!"

The angel could have wept with relief at the sound of Dean's voice, as well as the struggle he was clearly putting up. Castiel wanted to try smiting the demons again, but they had his angel blade… they would kill him before he could summon the necessary power. Castiel yanked and fought against the merciless hands forcing him along, through the chamber to whatever awaited them.

…

"Wait, go back for a second," Meg interrupted, pulling away from Castiel long enough to stare at him with a growing smirk. "Dean actually said that?"

The angel raised his eyebrows. "Said… what?"

"I'm good for you? Dean Winchester. Gave his approval to a demon. We talking about the same Dean?"

Castiel could barely hold back his amusement, shaking his head at her priorities. "You realize in this story, Dean and I have both just been captured."

"Right, we're about to get back to you being chained up again. Believe me, I've been quivery with anticipation." Meg's eyes twinkled as she gave him a wink. "And I'm sure I'll be having good dreams tonight, if you know what I mean. But I want to hear the part where Dean said he's glad I came back again. Also… did you really say that about me?"

Distracted from the thread of his story, Castiel brushed his hand through Meg's hair, carding it with gentle fingers. "Mm-hmm," he murmured, a low rumble in his chest.

"Ugh, sickeningly sweet," she retorted, but she rested back down against Castiel with her head on his shoulder, and he knew she didn't really think so.

"After all," he reminded her, "it's true. I remember the angels, that day."

For a second, Meg stiffened and remained silent. Then, softly: "Me too."

…

Cas was hard to keep up with now that he was no longer confined to the ward. With the Leviathan still on the loose, the Winchesters out trying to stop them, and Crowley only very tenuously agreeing to leave the angel alone—for now—Meg felt the razor edge of the knife they walked on. At any moment, everything could tip one direction or another, but she and Cas were in limbo until the fate of the world was decided.

Strictly speaking, Meg was under no obligation to keep up with the crazy angel anyway. The agreement had been for her to keep enemies away from Cas while he was in a coma. She had done that. No one had asked her to continue babysitting him, and now that the angel was awake and capable of fending for himself, Meg was in the clear.

And yet here she was.

Panting slightly, Meg stormed over to where Castiel was stretched out on his stomach in a grassy field. His chin was propped up on his hands, eyes soft and distant as he stared at something on the ground in front of him. As Meg approached, she realized it was a line of ants.

"Clarence, this has got to stop," she snapped. "I left for five minutes and you disappeared."

"Oh, Meg!" Cas exclaimed, glancing over his shoulder to beam up at her. "You're here! Come look at this. How industrious the little insects are, how well they work together."

Rather than hurl back a waspish retort, Meg checked her annoyance. It would accomplish nothing but hurt Castiel's feelings; certainly it wouldn't stop him from wandering off whenever the mood struck. Besides, he seemed genuinely delighted at the bugs.

…and her presence.

Lowering herself down onto the grass beside Cas, Meg eyed the ants and imagined squashing them all one by one.

"Yeah, they're great," she offered. She couldn't deny the glow in Cas's eyes at her agreement was sort of worth it.

"Wouldn't it be wonderful if everything worked as well as them?" Castiel posited. "Imagine what incredible things could be accomplished. I know the angels-" He broke off, then hung his head with a sigh.

Meg watched him, waiting. She had a feeling she knew where the sudden sadness was coming from. When Cas didn't go on, she said, "If you're that worried about the angels, you could just… I don't know, go say you're sorry or something. That's a typical 'good guy' kinda move, isn't it?"

Castiel's head drooped even more, voice low enough that Meg had to lean in to hear him.

"It wouldn't help. The devastation I caused… an apology will heal nothing. And even if I were brave enough to go say it, they wouldn't listen. They- they hate me. And rightly so." Castiel sighed again and said even softer, "Besides, I can't go back there. If I did, if I saw the fields of Heaven covered in the angel blood I spilled… I think I would kill myself."

It was so matter of fact that even Meg shuddered, looking away. Damn. That was serious, coming from the tree-topper. Okay, so things were bad.

"Well, don't go back, then," she said.

"I can't fight, Meg. I can't cause that kind of destruction again. It would finish me. Do you think Sam and Dean are still mad at me? Because I don't want to fight?"

Meg clenched her fists in the grass at the forlorn question, still irritated with those two. She wanted to assure Cas that of course they weren't angry, knowing that was what he wanted to hear, but she had no idea what the humans were thinking or feeling. She shrugged. "I'm not mad at you."

Cas looked up, meeting her eye with a slight smile, which was something. "I know. I'm very happy about that."

Jerking her gaze away, Meg returned her attention to the ants on the ground. She wasn't blind. Cas was being so sweet to her, so trusting, so delighted in her attention. It made no sense, and while Meg wasn't big on following rules, this was one she'd never expected the intense, intimidating angel to break.

Obviously it was nothing but a product of his state of mind, she reminded herself. And it wasn't like she returned the sentiment. Well… not really. True, it was an unexpectedly pleasant change for someone to have such a guileless attachment to her, and for that someone to be an angel like Castiel, no less.

Fierce, loyal Castiel. He might be refusing to fight, might be acting a little odd in his current endearing, childlike nature, but she could still see his true form, and it was… Meg took a deep breath and fanned herself, trying to keep focused.

But she'd let her guard down just long enough, and by the time she heard the wingbeats, it was too late. Meg jumped up and watched warily as three angels appeared in front of them.

"Castiel," the one in the middle sneered. His eyes roved up and down with palpable scorn. "The traitor. Keeping company with the demon whore now. How far you've fallen."

Still prone on the ground—damn it, why did he insist on remaining so vulnerable?!—Castiel peered up at the three angels with uncertainty. He slowly pushed himself up and clambered to his feet.

"Brothers?" he asked, holding up his hands. "I- please, if I could just explain-"

He was cut off when the angel who'd spoken flew forward and slammed the pommel of his blade into Cas's head, sending him reeling back down to the ground.

"Hey!" Meg started forward, but froze when the other two angels turned to her with weapons raised.

"Get up, coward!" the other angel snarled as Cas watched him with achingly baffled eyes. "We're taking you back to Heaven for punishment, but first we're going to have it out right here. By all means, don't come quietly."

"But- Jophiel, I- I don't want to fight you," Cas protested, scooting backwards away from the angel bearing down on him. "I can't. You're my brother, and I've- I've already hurt too many."

Jophiel's eyes bulged with rage as he pointed the blade at Cas. "Get up and fight! Don't think your cowardice will buy you mercy from me!"

Meg made her decision in a split second. "Cas, go!" she growled, leaping between the angels and Cas with her own stolen angel blade at the ready. "Get outta here."

"Meg-"

"I said, go. Now, Clarence." Three angels; it was terrible odds, but Meg had faced worse. Maybe if she'd asked Cas to fight back, manipulated him into doing it "for her", he would have, but it was obvious that it would destroy him. He could have finished them off without breaking a sweat, her angelic champion, but Meg couldn't ask him to.

"Demon whore," Jophiel said, smirk widening. "You're hideous. And where is your master, the Adversary? Beaten. You're all alone, and ridding the world of your meaningless filth will be doing everyone a favor." He sneered. "Not that any will notice the loss of one festering sore."

Meg's eyes narrowed, never losing an ounce of her cool because she had trained herself too well to let absolutely nothing through. So if the angel's words stabbed her to her core, they would never know.

"Go on, Cas," she tossed over her shoulder. "I'll take care of this myself." So that he wouldn't have to.

The three angels traded amused looks, then started to fan out. Cas still hadn't flown away, but Meg heard him climbing back up to his feet. She crouched.

"So who's first?" she challenged recklessly.

They converged in a flurry of wings, the burning, wrathful eyes of their true forms promising death. Meg stood her ground, slashing out with the blade to parry one of their strikes. Everything in her screamed to flee, but Cas was still behind her and if she left then they would kill him. Or worse, drag him back to Heaven to be tortured. Why wouldn't he run, damn it?

Meg cried out as one of her opponents scored a long gouge down her shoulder. She couldn't keep her eyes on all three at once when they were surrounding her. She sliced out again, the four moving in a lethal dance of parries and blows. Still, Cas hadn't run.

"I'm curious," Jophiel murmured as his free hand shot out and grabbed a chunk of Meg's hair. She yelled in pain as he dragged her in, one of the other angels capturing her wrist before she could lash out with the blade. Jophiel's eyes burned into hers as he finished, "If Castiel won't fight to save himself, I wonder if he would fight to save his whore?"

"Jophiel, no, please!" Cas cried out as they held Meg fast. "Don't hurt her!"

"Try and stop me," Jophiel hissed.

Squirming, Meg growled through gritted teeth, "Just run, Clarence." She saw the hesitation in his eyes, saw him wavering. Her glower deepened. "Cas… no. You don't want to fight anymore, so don't. I'm not worth it."

"True," Jophiel snickered. "But what does 'Cas' think about that?"

Castiel charged without warning. He was so fast that Meg didn't see him move, only felt it when something grabbed her free hand and pulled. She was ripped away from the other angels, shouting in pain as strands of hair were yanked out from Jophiel's grip. Meg shrieked in surprise, clinging to Castiel as she realized they were flying—very different from teleportation. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut against the disorienting currents of the ethereal slipstream, not opening them again until she felt solid ground beneath her feet.

"What the hell!" she shouted, stumbling away from Cas as he watched her with worried eyes. "What was that? Why didn't you run when I said to, you idiot?"

"Why did you want me to leave?" he returned, head tilted as he examined her. "You didn't want me to fight for you."

"Because I'm not worth it," she snapped again, reaching a hand to her tender scalp. "You should have run." Meg paused. "Why didn't you?"

The angel stepped towards her, hand falling on her shoulder—also sore from being wrenched into the ether. "But… but you are worth it. I don't want to fight," he said, solemn as ever. "But I couldn't leave you to die. Friends don't… they shouldn't leave each other."

Meg eyed her champion, head clearing from the immediate shock. "Is that all we are? Friends?" she asked bluntly. The question seemed to throw him.

"What else is there?"

This was insane… was she trying to seduce an angel?

Yes, Meg realized. She still didn't understand it, but Meg knew what she wanted. She closed the distance, gaze fixed on that incredible, blazing true form. "You saved my life," she murmured. "A little something for the pizza man."

Closing her mouth over his, Meg surrendered to whatever this insanity was.