The chapters will be following what Meg was doing 'behind the scenes' during season six, this chapter being set just after the dragon episode (And yes I will be doing The French Mistake in later chapters) Thanks for reading, Reviews keep me grounded, but aren't mandatory!~

It must have been around one in the morning if Meg had to edge a guess. She had to leave the last motel she was hiding at due to that lingering demon feel. It was probably nothing but being slaughtered in her sleep was not something the demon relished in. Particularly as torture would last a life time. No for her meat suit, one of the great perks of being a demon was the lack of need for sleep. That was also why she always hid out in a motel, because who would think to look for a demon in a place full of beds? She was however, ironically growing tired of the constant fleeing in the shadows.

Sauntering step by step through the doors of her newest grubby second-rate pit, the brunette glared at the paint chipped walls and rustic ambiance of the room as she checked in at the counter. On her travel to this latest dump, which she noted smelled like stale bread and cat, Meg had acknowledged her last resort, which just so happened to be the demon's best chance. It wasn't long ago she was sharing oxygen with feathers. She knew that just considering seeing him again was foolish but he didn't kill her. She had decided all it would take is right manner of extortion of his weakness for her and soon she's have a little guardian angel on her shoulder.

Forking out her cash and accepting the room key, Meg turned on her chipped patent heels without another word to the landlord and merely a smirk. Her footsteps were the only noise echoing in the car park as she walked with ease to her room. She was adorned once more in dark denim and leather, only now holding a heavy duffel bag over her shoulder. In which was not only the ingredients for a summoning spell, which she'd acquired the night she lost the angel blade, but also a quick change of clothes and a standard 45 caliber.

She thrust the key in its lock and with a swift turn pressed the creaky door to number sixty-nine open. Without second thought, she dropped the keys in bowl atop the very retro side table by the door. If she was being perfectly honest the whole room looked like someone had barfed flower-power over a cheap hotel room. Rolling her hazel eyes and shutting the door with a kick behind her, Meg immediately set out to preparing the summoning spell. She hadn't prepared what she was going to say when he appeared but after so many years of practice she was damn sure she could seduce him. Even if it took a summoning a day.

Dumping some of the ingredients in the bowl it occurred to Meg, Castiel was probably with Dean and Sam right now, maybe her summoning him would lead to one of the Winchesters getting their asses kicked. She smirked at the thought, now that would be worth the smiting. Wiping her hands together with nothing left to do the demon sauntered over to the bed and plopped down. She was mainly hoping that when he got here he wouldn't just leave again. Maybe she ought to find herself some of that chuckled at the idea, a demon with heavenly oil, yeah that's lying low. It was best not to draw anymore attention to herself, well other than summoning angels to her.

Minutes passed. To Meg it felt like hours. What could he possibly be doing that prevented him from zapping in? A small voice at the back of her mind considered that he might be dead. Well fuck that would be just her luck. In the minutes passed, she'd removed her leather jacket, leaving her in just a tank top. She'd also taken out her compact mirror which she was staring at idly, seeing her true form reflected in the glass, twisting and distorting. Reflecting it was her day dreaming that made her miss his entrance.

He spoke before she noticed him out of the corner of her eye, his gravely voice broke through the silence and right away she could tell something was wrong. "Meg, I was busy." His appearance told her he was a little more than busy. His face was constricted with pain and he was bent over, a firm hand pressed against the table for support as he breathed in labored breaths. His whole meat suit looked as though it had gone ten rounds with lion, splashed with scarlet and colouring his trench coat with blood. In his free hand she noticed the angel blade she'd owned not so long ago, seasoned in what she assumed was angel blood. Well this was a turn up for the books. She knew Castiel was having trouble with the rest of the harp players but she hadn't ever considered them fighting tooth and nail like animals. That was her job. The demon way of doing things.

"Well shit, Clarence." Meg purred, pushing herself up from the bed and tossing the compact mirror aside. "You've got a little something on your coat." Her lips twitched into a grin at the remark as she watched him looking over his bloodied trench coat.

Castiel let out a low growl as he made a step towards Meg the angel blade still in his hand, she could tell by each subtle movement he was trying to convey that he was not an easy target for the demon. That he was in no manner of terms weak or vulnerable. However as he near collapsed into her arms she couldn't help but laugh. Playing a little Florence Nightingale couldn't hurt her case. Besides if he was to be any help at all she'd need him able.

"So much for the wrath of heaven." She muttered to herself irritably as she helped Castiel towards the bed.

"Meg, why are you doing this?"

It was a simple question and she had the simple answer, "I need friends in high places and you can fly higher than an eagle, Clarence."
She watched as he pulled a face, his aqua orbs disappearing as he squinted trying to decipher her words. Laying him on the bed and thank for his remarkable lack of restraint, the demon kneeled on the mattress next to him. Trailing her dark gaze over his stained clothes for a second and then getting to work untangling him from his overcoat. He had tried to protest at the removal of his upper half of clothes but she needed..or maybe wanted to see the damage done. After a stern gaze he seemed to relax a fraction.

"You can let go of the angelic knife, I don't plan on stealing it, ya know? Or at least not while I'm checking your wounds."

Castiel made no move to let go of his blade, particularly as Meg had just finished unbuttoning his bloodstained shirt, leaving his layers opened and revealing his vessel's chest. The first thing Meg noticed was a gash along his abdomen. The reason it stood out from the other scratches so, was the un-earthly glow it emitted. The white light burned from beneath the gaping cut and it made Meg's eyes flick black. It was the closest she'd been to seeing the true form of an angel. Even if it was only a slit. Castiel's intense gaze on her watching her ever movement didn't go unnoticed either. He was boring into her almost willing her to tell him what her game was. The truth was she wasn't really sure at that moment. Her plan was to seduce the angel and gain a little protection. Having him show up as a walking corpse was not part of the plan and getting a glimpse at the angel beneath the vessel..well that sort of just stopped her mind for a moment. Everything was unimportant because she was looking the purest of lights. A celestial power that in any more magnitude would melt the eyes of her vessel or kill her.

"Do you hear me?" Meg snapped her head back to reality and pushed away all thoughts of angelic rainbows. Did she hear what? She'd been so wrapped up in her own mind that she'd missed what he' said. Which the angel must have worked out because he began repeating it, "I said it'll heal itself in a few hours. Now what did you want?"

"Oh gee thanks Meg, for checking if I was dying." She snorted back. Fucking angels. "Let me guess the Winchesters got you in trouble? I heard they were chasing after dragon's."

This definitely had some reaction as Castiel shot upward, flinching. "Meg, how do you know about that? What else do you know?" Something in his voice made her mentally question if he was up to something.

"I know that Crowley's not dead and the Winchester's aren't exactly in my fan club." She retorted. Leaning in above Castiel, Meg added in a whispered breath, "And that you are in my fan club, Feathers." Her hair spilled down messily in a waterfall of chocolate, each strand tickling the sides of Castiel's face as Meg towered over him. For the second time they were both locked in a state silence. Sharing the same breath as they heated each others faces, curtained by Meg's hair. Daring an inch closer with each breath. Meg steadily lowered her full lips down onto Castiel's pausing as they brushed against each other. In seconds Castiel parted his own lips and Meg consumed them. She drew the tip of her tongue over each lip softly taking in the copper stained taste before pulling the flesh in between her teeth and suckling hard, eliciting a groan of need from the angel below her. His own lips were pushing in to her hungrily like a man starved. His rough hands found their way onto Meg's lower back, pressing her closer to him. Meg had forgotten the taste of his lips from that night in Crowley's prison, but there was so much power in them and the adrenaline from that night was rushing back.

Pulling back with lust filled eyes, Meg gazed down at Castiel who met her stare with fatigue and want. She was itching to keep going to pound the angel against the wall, but how far would the get before he passed out? Cupping his face she lulled to Castiel in a mocking voice. "Rest now, Clarence. We can pick up when you're all juiced up again..and don't worry,y. Demon's are watching over you."

She then watched with amusement as the angel on her rented bed slowly sank into a unconsciousness. He may not have needed sleep but that didn't mean he couldn't be knocked unconscious.