strangers when we met

21

The cabin in Whitefish was silent, but that was fine by Meg. Silence was exactly what she needed after the battle. She could still feel the pain of Michael's power going through her body, burning her from the inside out. Sometimes her hand wondered down to her stomach, to the lightning-shaped scar that it had left on her skin, her fingers tracing it with a curiosity she couldn't help.

She remembered another demon, Asmodeous, who had also had been scarred by the power of an archangel. He'd carried that mark from meatsuit to meatsuit ever since, like it had been something imprinted on what was left of his soul rather than on his flesh. She suspected that if she ever left this body, the same thing would happen with the next one she possessed, along with whatever weaknesses she'd develop after Crowley killed her.

Though she couldn't imagine why she would do that. She liked this body. She knew where all the buttons were.

Castiel seemed to like it, too. He traced the scar in her abdomen with his fingers first and then with his mouth before making love to her in a slow, passionate way.

"I thought I lost you again," he whispered in her ear when Meg teased him for it.

She laughed. She laughed to hide the fact that she had been scared too, that to her it had been a second between being hit by Michael's power, between feeling like her very essence was being set ablaze, and waking up in Eris' arms again. But she'd had time for all sort of scary thoughts in that seconds. That this was ten times worse that Crowley's blade, that she was being destroyed from the inside out and that there was no way that she was going to come back from that one, not again. She had been a survivor her entire existence, but when the people she cared about, the people she loved, had been in danger, she hadn't hesitated to sacrifice herself so they could live.

She hadn't regretted it and she still didn't now, but it was vertiginous sensation, to know just how far she was willing to go. So instead of thinking about it, she snuggled against Castiel's skin.

"You went through all trouble to get me back, now it seems you're stuck with me for good."

He traced his fingers through the waves of her hair.

"I'm fine with that."

Meg didn't want to think that night and Castiel made sure she couldn't. She was thankful, thankful that his touch made her feel real and not like this was some sort of dream the Empty or Billie or someone had stuck her into to keep her content, to keep her for kicking a fuss. The storm inside her quieted down under his kisses and all the questions and painful memories that she held couldn't hurt her when her legs were tangled up with his. She had no idea what to tell him or why it was important for her that he knew that.

The words kept getting stuck in her throat whenever she tried to speak.

"Hey," she muttered. She had her face hidden in his neck and the room was completely dark, though she figured that made little difference for his angel eyes. "I don't... mean anything by that. I mean, we're always going to be... I think, important for each other? You're my daughter's father and of course... but that doesn't mean that you have some sort of obligation towards me or anything."

Castiel moved away a little and rolled on the bed so they were face to face. The frown of confusion in his eyes was so comical Meg would've laughed if she hadn't felt like she was drowning on words that didn't seem enough to express what she really meant to say.

"You think I spend time with you out of... obligation?"

"No, that's not..." Meg bit the inside of her cheek and huffed in frustration. Why did it had to be so difficult? "I have a job in Hell. I have to keep it running, make sure we don't have any more enemies than we need. I know time there and up here runs differently, but I'm still going to be... not here every single day. So if you... don't want to be stuck with me, if you... I don't know, find an angel you like or something..."