AUTHORS NOTE:

Hey, check it out, you guys left me reviews so I felt guilty and wrote/updated really fast, see how that works? Before you read this I think I should remind you that I started this story back in February, a little after Cas killed Samandriel, before he returned and everything that followed happened. You're going to notice a lot of similarities between mine and the show's story line, and I'm kinda pissed that my story ended up being so close to the show's. Anyway, I' not trying to plagerize them or anything, and I hope you guys don't get super bored by what happens. Enjoy!

When Dean shuffled back into the bunker, it was past ten and the sun had gone down at least an hour before he finally called it a day. He had sweat and dirt clogging his every pore and his damp shirt clung to him – giving him a chill from the cold air outside.

If he kept embarrassing himself in this fashion, he'd have the Impala back to her prime condition in no time at all.

Once in his room, he stripped down to his boxers and put on a clean t-shirt, too tired to shower. He returned to the scene of the event that sent him outside in the first place. He put a pan on to warm before he bent over the kitchen sink to wash some of the dirt from his new blisters, pleased that neither Sam nor Cas seemed to be around to give him any shit for his behavior.

He gave up on the tender bumps and moved to the fridge, taking out some eggs.

When Dean returned to his room with a hot plate full of scrambled eggs and toast, he was surprised to see Cas sitting at the card table, already having dealt the cards and placed his bet.

"You're big blind, Dean," the angel said without looking up at him, studying his cards.

Dean sighed before climbing onto his bed, "Not tonight, Cas, I'm beat." He laid backagainst his pillows and took a bite of eggs that burned his tongue.

Cas stood and came to stand next to the bed, his proximity making Dean's cheeks burn a little in memory of the day's (well, the last couple week's) events. "Dean, did I do something wrong?" Cas reached over to grasp Dean's left shoulder with one hand and turned his piercing eyes on him.

His proximity and the intensity of his gaze sent the witty remark Dean had been about to make from his mind, and he was once again frustrated to be rendered speechless by the man's stare. The angel was waiting for an answer, his eyes starting to narrow as Dean remained silent. He scrambled to come up with an appropriate response.

"I honestly don't know what's been up with me lately," he responded at last. Good enough, he thought, though even he was a bit surprised by the truthfulness of the statement.

"If you say so, Dean," Cas said. He narrowed his eyes at him for a moment more before he withdrew his hand from Dean's shoulder and returned to the seat across from Dean. The touch created a vague recollection of when Castiel's hand had been permanently etched into his skin, in the same place the angel had chosen to hold a moment ago. He couldn't explain the feeling, but he felt almost nostalgic for the marking and the possessiveness and protection it had represented.

"Just one game," the angel insisted, picking up his cards, "Sam said I have a 'tell' and I've got to learn how to hide it," he used his fingers to put air quotes around the word and Dean smirked, marveling that he'd finally learned to use the gesture correctly.

"The one where you clench your teeth?" Dean guessed.

"I clench my teeth?!" Cas asked incredulously – sending a round of chuckles through Dean.

After the laughter had run its course, Dean shoveled a mouthful of eggs into his mouth and scooted forward towards the end of the bed, resigning to his friend's wishes, like he knew that he would.

…

"Heya, Sam," the dark-haired female at the door drawled.

"Meg?" He replied in disbelief, surprise apparent in his voice, making his statement sound more like a question.

"Well, you're a regular Ace Ventura. Now would you mind showin' me where you keep the dude with the feathers?"

"Who? Cas? How did you find us, Meg?" The questions tumbled out.

"I called her," Cas answered for the demon, making Sam jump when his voice materialized behind him.

"You have Meg's number?" Sam interrogated with skepticism.

"Obviously," the demon cut in. "Now are you going to tell me what this is about or do I have to guess?"

Sam removed the demon blade from the back of his pants, letting Meg's eyes get a hold of it before he held it tightly to his side. He gestured for her to walk down the hallway and followed close behind.

Upon rounding the corner, Dean jumped up from the table where he had finally started to help out with some of the research.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, grabbing the nearest stash of holy water from under a cabinet.

"I'm just as in the dark as you are, Mr. Paranoid." She ignored the knife in Sam's hand and Dean's holy water before settling into a seat at the long table and dropping her feet onto the surface with little ceremony. "Cas, I think it would be best if you'd just let us in on the big, friggin' secret."

All the eyes in the room turned to look at the only one who seemed to know what was going on. Dean reluctantly returned to his seat and Sam followed his example, keeping a grip on the knife.

"I called Meg because I thought we could benefit from her help. We still have no idea why my powers are dwindling or where I was for the time that I seem to have forgotten." He paused for a moment before continuing his explanation: "Therefore it couldn't hurt for Meg to be listening amongst the demons for anything that might help us. We still don't know whether or not they were or are involved."

The words following were a jumbled mess, as everyone tried to speak at once:

"Cas, we don't need her help!"

"We can't trust her."

"So angel-boy's got more drama."

Once silence had returned, Meg spoke again, "Why would I want to help you? What's in it for me?"

"Why not? I'm open to negotiation, what is it you want?" Cas said.

"Wait a minute, Cas, this is so nota good idea," Dean interjected. Cas drew his gaze from the demon to him, his features showing no signs of agreement and a little bit of impatience.

"He may have a point, Dean," Sam spoke up. "If you think about it, we've got nothing to go on, right now. What could it hurt? Plus I think I might pull my hair out if I have to read one more theory about angelic powers."

"I don't even want to let her leave, now that she knows where we are. We either have to exorcise her or move," his brother said with a scowl, his mood no doubt darkening at the prospect of having to leave his new room.

"Wait a minute, I'm not saying I'll do anything, but if the price is right, you'll bet I'll forget I ever saw this place." The demon smiled, considering the options.

"What do you want?" Sam asked, ignoring Dean's interjection.

The demon took her feet off the table, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table, and took her time answering. After a few moments, her eyes widened and smile crawled across her face as she named her price: "I want to know how to build demon bombs."

The arguments had gone on for awhile, most of which involving trying to stop Dean abhorring the prospect of working with the demon who had never been exactly trustworthy in his opinion, the one who sicked hell's guard dogs on him at one point. Eventually, they had come to an agreement. Meg wanted the bombs to keep Crowley's goons at bay, as he still hadn't forgiven her for one too many traitorous acts. How could they deny her the recipe, they'd be gaining an extra pair of ears and she'd be killing demons.

Once they'd given her the list, they walked her to the door.

Sam handed her a slip of paper with his phone number, "How bout you call next time, wouldn't be very helpful for you to show up here being followed." The demon shoved the note in her pocket with the recipe.

"If you say so, skyscraper." She stepped out onto the stoop before spinning back around to face them. "Oh yeah, there's one thing before I go." Sam tensed as she reached past him to get a hold of Cas' tie, yanking him towards her by the silky fabric. "One for the road, Clarence?" She asked without waiting for a response. She tugged him again, closing the short distance that now stood between them, her lips meeting his without hesitation while Sam took an awkward step back, bumping shoulders with Dean.