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Oh hey, remember that jossed Cas/Meg amnesiac!priest AU fic I wrote a few months ago? I wrote a little coda to it, because Cally said, "Being told he is not alone by someone whose face forever eludes him... but he isn’t alone, is he? He’s got Meg. Meanwhile Meg finds herself missing the Castiel that would smite her as soon as look at her. At least that Castiel she knew what to do with. She’s not supposed to owe him anything, but he’s not supposed to look at her like he trusts her."
It happens in the woods outside of Paxton. Four seconds away from death and somewhere on the periphery of consciousness, she hears Castiel’s panicked “No!” and she lacks the strength to tell him to stay back, stay hidden. If Crowley’s goons see him, everything is ruined.
“I’ll give the king of hell your regards,” the demon grins.
Then, fiat lux.
Meg squeezes her eyes shut, maybe screams in pain along with the demon, she’s not sure. An angel’s grace can still burn her, after all. The world glows red beyond her closed eyelids and she clings to her vessel, fighting the instinct to flee. Still there is the voice in her saying let go, let go, let it all be over, you can finally rest.
An eternity passes and the light fades. When she opens her eyes, there’s an empty meatsuit at her feet, already dead, and good ol’ Clarence standing over them looking down at his trembling hands.
“What-” she says.
Misunderstanding, he cuts in, “I don’t know. I don’t know what happened, I don’t-“
“Hey.”
He snaps back to the world. Meg sees him swallowing his fear, blinking back the fog, and then he looks into her eyes, he is on his knees beside her and trying to staunch the bleeding, getting her blood all over his hands. It’s like she always told him - focus on the now, Clarence.
“Just gimme a minute,” she mutters.
“A minute? He just gutted you. We need to get you to a hospital-“
“I said give me a minute.” But still he tries to lift her in his arms. Meg cries out in rage and twists, pulling him closer to her. He shouts some protest, but whatever, she just leans into him as he clings to her, the both of them too shaken to let go. Meg buries her face in his neck as she grits her teeth and wills the flesh to heal. It’s more difficult than it needs to be; she’s been cut off from hell for far too long and her powers are weak.
“You’re burning up,” he says.
“Stop,” she hisses.
“Meg, if we don’t get you to a hospital-“
“No hospitals.” She looks into his eyes, meaning to make a point, but she is unprepared for the way he looks back. Something falters, perhaps her, perhaps him. Perhaps she’s just really good at playing her part.
He rests his hand over her hand, over the wound, and she sobs as something burns her from the inside. The pain is even more excruciating, but when Castiel takes his hand away, miracle of miracles, she is whole.
“Did you…” She wets her lips and tries again. She hadn’t expected his powers to come back so soon. “Did you do that?”
“I don’t, I didn’t…” But he did, and he gently touches her smooth belly, as if amazed by his own muscle memory. “But… I don’t understand, I saw him stab you.”
“Yeah. Yup, sure got stabbed.”
“Meg-“
She pulls away, wobbling as she pushes herself to her tries to stand up. “We need to get out of here before he sends more.”
“Before who sends more? Who were those guys?”
“Come on, we’ll talk later.”
At Castiel’s defiant bristle, Meg feels a sudden trill of hope. No, of recognition. There’s the stuffy angel-face everyone knows and loves.
“Fine,” he concedes.
They run.
In other news, it's Henriksen Week on tumblr and my computer with the Photoshop is gone so I am sulking as I get over a stomach virus, and also here's a Victor at Camp Chitaqua thing that Emily and I co-wrote one time and one of us should continue.
It happens in the woods outside of Paxton. Four seconds away from death and somewhere on the periphery of consciousness, she hears Castiel’s panicked “No!” and she lacks the strength to tell him to stay back, stay hidden. If Crowley’s goons see him, everything is ruined.
“I’ll give the king of hell your regards,” the demon grins.
Then, fiat lux.
Meg squeezes her eyes shut, maybe screams in pain along with the demon, she’s not sure. An angel’s grace can still burn her, after all. The world glows red beyond her closed eyelids and she clings to her vessel, fighting the instinct to flee. Still there is the voice in her saying let go, let go, let it all be over, you can finally rest.
An eternity passes and the light fades. When she opens her eyes, there’s an empty meatsuit at her feet, already dead, and good ol’ Clarence standing over them looking down at his trembling hands.
“What-” she says.
Misunderstanding, he cuts in, “I don’t know. I don’t know what happened, I don’t-“
“Hey.”
He snaps back to the world. Meg sees him swallowing his fear, blinking back the fog, and then he looks into her eyes, he is on his knees beside her and trying to staunch the bleeding, getting her blood all over his hands. It’s like she always told him - focus on the now, Clarence.
“Just gimme a minute,” she mutters.
“A minute? He just gutted you. We need to get you to a hospital-“
“I said give me a minute.” But still he tries to lift her in his arms. Meg cries out in rage and twists, pulling him closer to her. He shouts some protest, but whatever, she just leans into him as he clings to her, the both of them too shaken to let go. Meg buries her face in his neck as she grits her teeth and wills the flesh to heal. It’s more difficult than it needs to be; she’s been cut off from hell for far too long and her powers are weak.
“You’re burning up,” he says.
“Stop,” she hisses.
“Meg, if we don’t get you to a hospital-“
“No hospitals.” She looks into his eyes, meaning to make a point, but she is unprepared for the way he looks back. Something falters, perhaps her, perhaps him. Perhaps she’s just really good at playing her part.
He rests his hand over her hand, over the wound, and she sobs as something burns her from the inside. The pain is even more excruciating, but when Castiel takes his hand away, miracle of miracles, she is whole.
“Did you…” She wets her lips and tries again. She hadn’t expected his powers to come back so soon. “Did you do that?”
“I don’t, I didn’t…” But he did, and he gently touches her smooth belly, as if amazed by his own muscle memory. “But… I don’t understand, I saw him stab you.”
“Yeah. Yup, sure got stabbed.”
“Meg-“
She pulls away, wobbling as she pushes herself to her tries to stand up. “We need to get out of here before he sends more.”
“Before who sends more? Who were those guys?”
“Come on, we’ll talk later.”
At Castiel’s defiant bristle, Meg feels a sudden trill of hope. No, of recognition. There’s the stuffy angel-face everyone knows and loves.
“Fine,” he concedes.
They run.
In other news, it's Henriksen Week on tumblr and my computer with the Photoshop is gone so I am sulking as I get over a stomach virus, and also here's a Victor at Camp Chitaqua thing that Emily and I co-wrote one time and one of us should continue.