Meg sat in the parking lot, staring at the seedy motel. She still didn't quite believe she was here. Or that she was going to ask those chuckleheads for a favor. She shuddered. She wasn't going to be able to stomach this.
She snarled and punched the dash, thinking furiously... and coming up empty. She needed THEM. They're the best damn hunters alive, and she needed that boy found fast. She took another look at the motel. It didn't help that only one of the pair was inside and it wasn't her bonding partner.
She rested her head on the steering wheel. That wasn't exactly it. Captain America wasn't really the problem. Well, he was, but he wasn't the reason her stomach was in knots. That would be the Angel. It was all fun and games when she'd been teasing and taunting him. But after a few soulful looks and a few truths, it wasn't so funny anymore.
Another glance at the motel. She sat up quickly. There he was, stumbling in, the neanderthal. She had to go in.
Dean lay on the bed with his hands clasped behind his head. Another job done. He wished that Sam had come with him so they could've left tonight. There was no way he could drive. He was gettin' to old to be hittin' the bar to celebrate not dying that day. And as the very same bar had been chock full of testosterone, there hadn't been anything to do BUT drink. He laughed to himself. 'Cause drink he had.
He flipped through the channels on tv, settling inevitably on PPV. Casa de Erotica 23. He smiled in anticipation.
The door banged twice.
"SONOFABITCH!" he swore, as he threw his legs over the side of the bed.
The door banged again as he grabbed his gun and walked over. He looked through the spyhole, but whoever was out there had covered it. THAT didn't bode well. He patted himself down, checking to see if he was fully armed. He wasn't. He walked to the table to get the knife and the door flew open. He spun fast, and stopped just as quick. His hands tightened on both the gun and the knife. He wished Crowley had killed Meg the time she saved Sam. 'Cause here the troublesome bitch was. AGAIN.
"You bitch." Dean said.
"DEAN! Not happy to see me?" Meg smirked.
Dean just stared at her coldly, jaw clenched as tight as his hands.
"Well," said Meg. "As it happens, Sunshine, I'm not too happy to be here."
"Well, good. Get the fuck out."
"Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast, O Mighty Hunter. You're forgetting your manners. Or did you not learn any all those years on the road growing up?
Meg knew she was poking the lion with a stick, but she couldn't risk seeming too eager. And she was losing her
chance anyhow- his hand was on the door now... she had to do something.
"I NEED YOU!!!" she said in a furious, despairing tone.
THAT brought Dean up short. Was that a TEAR in her eye?!
"Uh, Meg.. are you.. uh, crying?!"
Wow, his night had turned really bad, really quick.
"Shit! Just get in here, you freakin' spawn of the devil!"
Meg tossed her head and stalked into the room with her typical bravado, but inside she was seething. Crying! In front of Dean Winchester! At the moment she couldn't think of anything worse. She laughed. She'd been tortured by the best of the worst, and shedding a tear in front of Dean was worse. She shook her head.
"Great." Dean muttered. He put his hand up to rub his jaw. His buzz was wearing off fast. "What, are you crazy now? First Sam and Cas, now you? Banging on a man's door at 2 am, then crying and laughing at once. Are demons even supposed to cry?"
