Bright. Shiny. Mysterious.
Far away and out of his reach.
He wished... he had enough strength to go back in time and make everything right again.
We are going to Heaven, Clarence
...for so many things.
"You are so pretty, Charles." At one blow he was ripped out of his daydreams. He stared at the old woman of the retirement home. A ping pinched his heart. "That is not my name," he replied, pretty unsettled by her unexplainable adoration. If I´d listen to any other name than my own this is not the one. If anyone was allowed to call me by any other name it is no human. His wings fluttered, troubled. How can I miss being called by that name? How can I even like a name given to me by a creature utterly evil? How crazy am I really? Not that he had figured out why she was calling him by that name particularly. Not that he cared whatever her reason might be. Not that he missed her. No. No. He certainly did not miss her. How could he miss an abomination?
He was still recovering and sorting out his feelings after his escape from purgatory. There he hadn´t had a micro second left to think about her fate after she had stopped calling him. He had been too frantically busy trying to stay alive himself. Only once or twice had he failed to stay focused, instead musing about her struggle. The first time he pondered over the question of where monsters would go when they were killed. As if the answer would be essential to anyone. The second time he got himself almost killed simply by being distracted but was saved by a vampire. A vampire for god´s sake. The second abomination he owed his life to. God moves in mysterious ways, doesn´t he?
He looked heavenwards. Certainly she not only saved my life. She kissed me. She took care of me and brought me back from crazy town. All this without getting any reward for herself. So why? What is the true purpose of her agenda? What is she hiding behind her sentiments towards me? She could not mean those things. A demon can´t love. Why am I conflicted anyway? What is wrong with me?
Fact was he was constantly brooding about her. Did he regret that he had missed the chance to ask Crowley in person about her fate? Did she escape him? Did he capture her? Why didn´t she come to see me? All those questions he didn´t dare to ask anyone involved. How would he look asking for the whereabouts of a demon? So he did nothing, letting himself stew in his own juice.
Naomi came and fucked with his mind and soul. He struggled against her grip and turned off the connection to his home, which left him with more time to think about his caretaker, and that made him feel lonelier than being without any family ever had.
He chose to go along with Dean and Sam hunting demons, even though Dean treated him like an annoyance, criticizing everything he did. Not for the first time he realized that Dean preferred Sam all around. He was always put in second place no matter what he did. No wonder he got grumpy and difficult to talk to. The year in purgatory had bled away a lot of his spirit. He had accepted being cast out of Heaven. He didn´t ask to be forgiven but Naomi was making his existence a punishment all over again. Sometimes he even thought about ending himself. The worst blasphemy in the eyes of God.
One day he was plagued enough to just ask out of the blue. "Where is she? What happened to her?"
"I don´t know and I don´t care," Dean replied brutally, knowing at once who he was talking about. "Maybe she went back to daddy."
"Not possible. Lucifer is in the cage."
"Whatever. We are better off without the bitch hanging around." Dean looked at him scornfully.
Traitor. Sorrow rippled his wings but he said no more. He walked out of the room and sulked in solitude. She´s gone. She left me. She never cared. Serves you right. That´s what you get when you care for a demon.
As mad as he was that didn´t stop him from wishing for her to be here to give him comfort. The kind of comfort he shouldn´t long for. The kind of humans do this all the time to each other infamous stuff. No. He had more important things to think of. Like saving his sanity.
Eventually hunting with Dean and Sam and going along with their human flaws became easier. Dean treated him nicer, was somehow softer and more understanding towards him, and Sam, well, Sam was Sam, always sensitive to anyone´s feelings. So all could have been good but there was Naomi bothering him endlessly. She wouldn´t let him back into Heaven to make things right. He was free to do whatever he´d ever wanted to do. For a while he floated around helping humans who were in need. And there were many. He always made time to go looking for the demon but never found her.
The day Naomi ordered him to find Samandiriel and then kill him changed his path. He obeyed but that kill hurt much more than all the thousands of brothers and sisters he had killed before. He was only a shadow of the angel he once was. He was in danger to going to the dark side, a reference that brought back the bitterest memory. He thought about her again. He longed so fiercely for her that he turned away from his friends. He went into hiding. He preferred to be alone. He wasn´t good company.
He came to save her. Yeah, right. He killed Crowley and took her away. No, wrong. She wasn´t naive. He healed her wounds with a bare flex of his finger. Fuck. He would never come to save her. He smashed her into the wall and ravished her thoroughly. Damn pathetic. She didn´t deserve to be called a demon.
Ah. No. She did. Those silly scenarios were simply her way to escape the endless torture damaging her body and mind day after day. He comforted her like an angel was supposed to. The reality of him abandoning her often cut into her like cold crimson. He makes her feel clean. His betrayal an image burning in her skull in blinding white. Of course he never came. The constant torture went on and on and on. No angel but Crowley himself took her off the rack one day, and only because she told him she knew about the towns where the crypts with the tablets were hidden. Eager to win the race Crowley sent her along with his bloodhounds to find those locations. A mission much more important to him than ripping her apart till the end of time. So. Don´t wait for an angel to do a demon´s job.
Searching for the crypts she got lucky. The savior she was waiting for all along ran into her by accident. He killed her demon guards. He found her beaten and tied up. "Meg." His voice was a broken confession of amazement. He looked at her like they had never been apart. "Are you hurt?"
She smiled mockingly. "Guess?"
He frowned at her seriously, pondering over the proper reply. Wasn´t he the cutest and most peculiar thing? Sadly their intimacy was quickly interrupted by feet stomping up the stairs. Castiel winced and walked out to await the gatecrashers. She knew he left her by herself because he didn´t want to be caught at her side. Yeah. An angel who was talking nicely to a demon. No fucking way he would allow anyone to see that.
Their unwanted company arrived. "The hostage is in there," she heard Castiel tell them, sounding quite unaffected. The Winchesters peeked in. Of course. She wasn´t surprised to see them. Sam on the other hand was stunned at the sight of her. Even Dean looked baffled rather than pissed. She greeted them in her own way. "Aren´t you a little short for a stormtrooper?"
Dean called Castiel back over. "Untie her." Meg smirked. Dean wouldn´t touch her. Castiel didn´t have to. He released her from her bonds with a flex of his finger. She breathed a suggestive thank you, like the promise of a different kind of gratitude, while she staggered up, holding on to the wall. "...Meg..." The next second Castiel swept her off her feet into his arms, like she was the sweetest thing that had ever breathed, and carried her over to the bed.
Oh... He caught her by surprise. She didn´t complain, though, because she liked him playing her angel in shining armor. The presence of Dean rolling his eyes and Sam hiding a smile made it even better. Yeah. A flame blazed back to life that had never died. Crap! Sadly she couldn´t enjoy the break from being tortured and the feeling of her angel holding her for long enough, because Dean started questioning her at once. The crypts. Oh yes. The fucking crypts. Humans and their pathetic problems. She answered the damn questions willingly but mostly she was beaming at him, Castiel, Angel of the Lord, who was looking strangely torn. What is going on with him? Is it shame? Is it fear? Is it me? Clarence? Damn it. Look at me.
Castiel´s wings writhed when Meg addressed him with his given name. She was glowing, looking at him like he´d shown her a way to Heaven. She knows. She´s gonna blow this. She´s telling the truth. "Do I have to kill her?" He got the drop on Naomi. How can I kill the demon who kissed me? The one demon who took care of me and saved my life? I´d accept her death but I´m not willing to be the one to kill her.
"She does know the locations of the crypts. But working with a demon is unclean," Naomi stated, watching him closely.
What do you call caring for a demon then? What kind of sin is having feelings for an abomination? "We could use her - as Crowley did."
Naomi considered and bought his trick. "Agreed."
Relief lit up his insides, a sensation so strong and mighty, he slightly overbalanced when he turned back to the conversation. He had been right. Meg had just told Dean and Sam about the angel tablet. His friends figured instantly he had been lying to them. He tried to avoid disaster and kept lying that he was oblivious. They didn´t believe him. Meg interfered in their conflict by urging them to flee. She agreed to show them the location of the crypts. They went to the miniature town where she pointed out the location a few thousand years ago. Of course the place had changed a lot since then. Dean and Sam went to check the computer for details of where the exact location was today. In the meantime Meg wandered off looking for booze. He followed her, finding her resting on a sofa in the next room sipping from a bottle of beer.
"I was praying for you," he confessed out of the blue.
"So sappy, Clarence." Despite the insult she was looking at him like he was God.
His wings fluttered restlessly. Jesus! He looked at her hands. Pus was dripping from the wrists. "Your vessel is seriously damaged."
"Such a sweet-talker," she purred graciously, like a kitten being petted.
He didn´t reply but searched the room for proper supplies. He found some bandages. "Let me help you." He seized her left hand gently. Why am I doing this? What is the purpose of touching her? Why am I making this personal? Why is she always getting to me? "I was...thinking about you...a lot."
"Clarence! How shocking!" She gave him a fiendish leer that was clear enough to read.
"No. Not like that." His wings felt like they were burning off back there. "Just...you confuse me."
"I like that." She sighed comfortably as if they had sat down for a coffee klatch. "Tell me more."
He forced back a smile. "No."
"Killjoy." She grinned.
"Are you trying to bait me?"
"Isn´t it obvious?" She batted her eyelashes meaningfully.
Don´t play her games. Focus on things of import. "These wounds have festered."
"You really do know how to make a girl´s nethers quiver, don´t you?"
"I am aware of how to do that." He started wrapping the bandage around her wrist. She kept flirting with him. Good. He needed her distracted to execute his plan properly. She would be furious if she knew what he was up to while fixing her wrists. She wouldn´t understand. She wouldn´t let him help her. She was too independent and stubborn to let anyone help her. She didn´t tell him who Clarence was, though, she questioned him about his mental state.
He admitted to remembering everything. Full of glee she reminded him of the kiss. He was baffled and embarrassed but granted her with the truth. "If youíre referring to the pizza man... Yes, I remember the pizza man. And itís a good memory." She glowed at his confession. Her smile and words got to him. His insides were blazing up. Thankfully she changed the subject to the Apocalypse which was way better. Safer. Well. He was wrong.
"I miss the simplicity ó I was bad, you were good. Life was easier. Now itís all so messy. Iím kinda good, which sucks. And youíre kind of bad - which is actually all manner of hot. We survive this... Iím gonna order some pizza and weíre gonna move some furniture around. You understand?"
"No, I-I -- wait -" Oh yes. He did understand very well. But could he admit that to a demon? Could he do this to his reputation? Could he let her know how much he wanted her to play out her plan? "- actually... Yes, I--"
Dean burst in. "Alright. Let´s roll campers." He and Sam didn´t wait up for a reply and rushed out.
Reluctantly he helped her to her feet. Touching is not a good idea. Not a good...
She was leaning into him. "Why bait the hook and not go fishing?"
"Meg. We can´t. Not now."
"Just a little taste to smooth the road for fighting evil." An all too familiar wicked grin tugged at the left corner of her mouth. "A good luck charm."
"For heaven´s sake..."
"Clarence." Her eyes went all soppy. "I was tortured for over a year-"
He shut her up by taking her lips gently, feeling her quiver even before he deepened the kiss, tasting spicy sweetness branding his tongue. Glorious. Barely aware of his wings beating the insides of his back he lost himself for a few seconds. He almost wasn´t able to step out of it. He did, though, breathing fiercely. "Okay. We have to go."
"Wow." She laughed. "That a boy!"
The drive with the Winchesters to the abandoned building enshrining the precious crypt proceeded in awkward silence. Dean and Sam were brooding about what lay ahead. He himself couldn´t think of anything to say while her taste was filling his mouth reminding him that the first kiss had been more than a good memory. A revelation was a more appropriate term. The second kiss confirmed their flat out impossible attraction and made him very aware of her smoldering presence next to him. He was the first stumbling out of the car on reaching their destination, wanting to clear his head. He needed to focus. He needed her out of the way. That´s why he didn´t disagree when Dean suggested that Sam should stay back with Meg keeping watch. "Dean is right. You should stay here and protect Meg."
"Since when do I need protecting?" She was visibly amused by his concern.
"Since you were held captive and tortured for over a year," he snapped, unblinking, and hoped she wouldn´t notice how flustered he was. He couldn´t deal with his feelings for her. Not now. Maybe never.
"Touché," she backed down, smiling downright dovelike.
Oh Lord. He rushed off without a word or a gesture of goodbye. His wings batted in helpless pain. No. Don´t look back. Don´t make this worse.
Fallen from grace and forced to walk the Earth as a human he needed a different name to hide from all the angels who were after him. In a flash he selected Clarence. Why? He wasn´t sure. Maybe to remember her. Maybe for her to find him. Really? Now that he was human she could kill him instantly. Did he want to take that risk? But would she? Kill him without mercy? Erase him like an insect? Would she kill the rival she had kissed so fervently? Would she destroy the enemy she had killed for? He realized with amazement that even if she would he didn´t care. He longed to see her. He longed to be with the most unexpected obstacle in his existence. He longed to make up for leaving her behind.
Sadly he could barely save himself. The world with the rules he had known for eternity was lost to him. On the run without shelter or food he turned careless. He met a woman named April Kelly and let her take him in. The same night she had intercourse with him. He didn´t resist, for many reasons, but wasn´t overwhelmed by the act itself. Something was missing. Something was not right. Maybe it was him. Maybe he was only into demons? Forever hooked by evil bait? In despair he groaned into the pillow.
In the middle of the night, after having a lot of troubling dreams, he woke up and found April viciously staring at him.
"Who is Meg?"
"Meg? You kept saying her name in your sleep."
He frowned seriously. "I did? Um...she is nobody."
"Maybe she is somebody. From the past. She is gone now."
"Is she? You appear to love her."
"I do not. She is no good. Dark. Evil. Unworthy." He choked on the last word and tears pricked his eyes. Damn this human body. He realized how much he really hurt because of her disappearance. Why did she abandon him? Why didn´t she track him down? He thought...
"The way you whisper her name implies you have strong feelings for her."
Memories washed over him like a heavy thunderstorm. So, what can you do, you impotent sap? I sure remember you, Clarence. I think we´re gonna be good friends too. Furious with himself he wiped his eyes. "Not possible. She was in no way loveable." Oh. So now he was back to lying. He clearly remembered a Meg that was at least a bit loveable. Taking care of him and soothing his pains. Killing Hester like a badass just to save him. Speaking in the softest tone calling him Clarence. Looking at him as if he was the sweetest creature in the universe. Changing her cause to follow him and the Winchesters to defeat Crowley. Where is she? Why isn´t she here? Why am I lying in bed with a stranger? "Maybe...I have some feelings. It is not of import. She is lost to me."
"Okay." She kissed him and they had intercourse again. The whole time he was burning with guilt because he was thinking about Meg and her brilliant dark eyes while he was pushing into a girl he just met.
In the morning April took his guilt away by showing her true face. She was a reaper possessing the body of April Kelly. The angels had sent her to torture him. April mocked him. April hurt him. He screamed, thinking that Meg had never hurt him. Not once. April showed no mercy on seeing his pain. No, she enjoyed the task as much as what they did last night. He was afraid to die. Still he kept talking to play for time. And he got lucky. The Winchesters crashed through the door and saved him at the last second, even as April rammed the angel sword right into his chest. He considered his survival a sheer miracle.
Dean and Sam brought him to the bunker and he thought he was finally safe. Shelter and food. Good water pressure. A family. That was what Dean was always talking about. But Dean asked him to leave. Castiel was stunned that Dean kicked him out but he wouldn´t beg to stay. Out of his mind he even dared to ask about her. "Where is Meg? What happened to Meg?"
The brothers looked guiltily at each other.
"The d-demon. What happened to her?"
"Why do you want to know this now?" Dean didn´t hide his annoyance, or was it sympathy?
"I have occasion," he said, sounding like the creature he once was.
"Uh...well...," Sam stammered, looking sorrowful, "we don´t know exactly. The last time we saw her she was with Crowley."
"You left her with Crowley?" His voice, which was not an angel´s anymore, rose to an extreme volume.
"No. She asked me to go and save... you. She stalled Crowley to help us get away. She helped you to get away."
"Cas, we couldn´t do anything, okay," Dean explained. "It was her or us."
He didn´t reply, didn´t even move a muscle.
"She´s dead. Crowley killed her," Dean finished pitilessly.
Castiel blinked. "Dead?"
"Do you understand?"
"Yes." He closed his eyes for a second, feeling lost, then he opened them again. His heart felt like a shard of ice. Being human sucks. "I do understand. You always hated her."
"Yes, she was a demon for Christ´s sake, but that is not why..." Dean moved towards him to...hug him?
Castiel backed away. "Stop talking." A muscle in his neck twitched painfully. His wings sagged. No. Not his wings. His shoulders. He had no wings. "I don´t want to hear any more." He sighed, sounding utterly defeated. "I regret leaving her with you. It was my responsibility to take care of her. Not yours." He turned around, facing the door. "Her death cannot be undone like so many things I did wrong."
"Don´t beat yourself up, Cas. She was just a demon, damn it."
"She´s killed enough people."
"So have I." Castiel could feel Dean´s anger and frustration. He must feel the need to grab him and shake some sense into him. He had lost everything. His name. His home. His family. His purpose for existing even. So why did he complain about the death of a demon? How could he long for a creature that was no good at all? Maybe because she had given him something Dean had never been able to? Affection. Comfort. Loyalty. She wouldn´t have thrown him out on the streets to make him go through this all alone. She wouldn´t have abandoned him. She wouldn´t have left him. "I wish she was here." He walked out of the bunker.
"Cas!" Dean called after him.
He didn´t turn back. He was thinking. He didn´t believe she was dead. She was clever. She was bad-ass. She was a survivor. And there was the secret protection he had given her for the dangerous road lying ahead. He wouldn´t have left her otherwise. Not again. So. Maybe.
He looked up to the blue and shinning sky. "Please."
He found a job. He drank. He ate. He slept. He took on a daily routine. He stayed alive. He didn´t find her, though. He went on living but was feeling completely turned around. He had never experienced such a sensation being an angel. He was living a life he wasn´t born for. Uneventful. Ordinary. Boring. What made humans tick? What made them go on? What was their purpose in life?
Beyond work he had one thing to do to kill the time. He watched a lot of TV. His favorite show was Columbo. A guy in a trenchcoat who looked like trash but was clever enough to solve any crime. He loved Columbo. He loved watching him playing his tricky games. He loved to forget how useless he had become himself.
At night he dreamed. Sometimes of rainbows and unicorns. He didn´t know why those exactly but they were happy symbols. Usually he caught only flashes of honeybees buzzing in thorny bushes. But on and on he was haunted by clear visions driving him half-mad. Meg screaming. Meg being ripped apart. Meg lost in darkness. Waking up from those and finding himself safely tucked in under the covers, he lay still panting for a long time, his human heart beating like a devil´s anvil. Sometimes he was lucky and the dreams were different altogether. A ring of fire. A touch of lips. A whisper of his name. Clarence. Those mornings he found himself with a hard and aching penis he needed to stroke until he soiled himself breathing her name.
Christmas came and by accident he caught a movie with a desperate and suicidal man who met an angel who granted his wish to die. Then the angel Clarence showed the man George how worthy his existence was and how he was missed and the man changed his mind. In the end Clarence got his wings as a reward for saving the man. Castiel watched the whole story open-mouthed and when the movie was over he cried bitter tears. He should have known what she really meant by giving him that particular name. He should have known to appreciate her teasing sentiment. He should have protected her. He should have saved her. Where was she really? Where did monsters go when they died? What was their fate? He would never know. He would never forget. He would never find someone like her again. He wept for a creature he had barely known. He wept for a chance wasted to save a soul. He wept for her.
He kept on dreaming about her. Sometimes the images were a comfort, sometimes they were not. The dreams kept him believing that she would come for him. He held on to a flimsy thread of hope. That was what he had become. A silly human holding on to childish dreams.
Spring came and a young woman with brown hair who wore a sea-green dress entered the gas-n-sip shop. He had never seen her before. Nothing about her was particularly flashy or spectacular yet she attracted his attention. The way she roamed around like a predator. The way she looked him over from top to bottom. The way she smiled like she was keeping an unknown secret. His back muscles tensed as she approached the counter, but she presented only a bottle of beer and a glossy magazine. Not shy she checked him out a bit more like he was the most peculiar thing along her way today.
"What?" He could barely enter the prices into the register.
"Just something about you...is very off."
"Nothing is off," he said abrasively. He didn´t like her. She was acting strange. She could be another rogue reaper who had been sent by the angels to destroy him.
"Okay. Leaving now." Despite her ordinary looks she walked out like a star. There was a sensational grace in that walk, a kind of subtle seduction. He was startled out of his mooning by something unexpected. He was aroused. Such a thing hadn´t happened to him since...since... Another customer entered and he forced his boner to shrivel down. The rest of the day went by in a blur. That night he dreamed about a squirming body screaming under his feet.
He jerked awake burning with guilt and a craving that hurt worse than everything he had ever experienced since he had become a human.
The second time she came in he noticed the charm on her necklace.
She caught him looking. "You like it?"
"It is unique."
"Like my beloved." Her brown eyes darkened to flowing ink.
That color hit a nerve. Now he considered her beautiful rather than plain. No. Don´t go there. Don´t even.... He shook his head, defying his evil desires.
"You don´t agree? You know him?"
"No. Of course not. How should I?"
She winked at him. "Exactly." She grabbed her things and left. "Bye, sweetie."
"Bye." He couldn´t resist peering through the window to watch her walk away. Once more he got lost in her subtle movements. Her ass...
She turned around and smirked.
He rushed back from the window and almost fell over a box filled with screws. "Damn."
At night he dreamed about kisses and blades and pizza. There was also some sort of spanking going on. It was what Dean would have called porn. Naturally he woke up hard. Masturbating his needs away had become his most guilty pleasure.
The third time she came in she introduced herself. Her name was May. A sweet-sounding name but a name that set off an alarm. May comes after April. He hadn´t forgotten about April Kelly and didn´t believe in coincidence. April had abused his blind confidence. He had learnt his lesson. He couldn´t trust a stranger. No matter how alluring she was. He could not even give away a bit of truth. "I am Steve."
"I know, sweetie. Name tag." She leaned over the counter. Her necklace dangled atop her cleavage. "Pretty common name for such a peculiar man."
Is this a flirtation? "I am not in the slightest peculiar. I am just...me."
"And what are you?"
"A working man."
"Okay." She snorted. "Have a nice day, Ste-vo."
He huffed at her marvelous exit. His cock gave an eager twitch. Oh Lord. He hurried to the restrooms.
In the next weeks she came by on a daily basis. He got used to her. He considered her cute and funny. Soon he was looking forward to their meetings, which were sparks of light in his gloomy existence. She made him laugh with dirty jokes he didn´t even understand all the time but he was charmed by the way she told them, and her frequent flirting often mellowed his fears and sorrows. She really got to him. That didn´t mean he trusted her. She stayed a stranger. He couldn´t afford to become friends with her. He was safer remaining alone.
Yet he considered asking her out on a date. He was a nervous wreck just thinking about it. Christ! Reminding himself who he once was and what he had accomplished he took his heart in his hands and opened with a common phrase often heard from male costumers. "What are you up to this weekend, May?"
"Up to? Like robbing a bank or taking a hostage?" She raised a mocking eyebrow.
He couldn´t believe he freaking blushed. "No. I meant..."
"I sure know what you mean; Ste-vo is asking me out on a date, huh?" Her lips curled into a smug smile. "So, tell me, how high into the sky will we fly?"
"What?" He stared at her. A twinge tickled his back. His heartbeat speeded up bumbum bumbum bumbum bumbum.
"What?" She stared back, imitating him with pleasure.
Time slowed. They moved towards each other. He opened his mouth to call out her name.
"Hello, Mister. Can I have a popsicle, please," a little boy interrupted their moment.
May jerked her head around to face the intruder. "Fuck off."
"God no. Don´t listen to her. A popsicle is coming right up," Castiel soothed, rashly grasping her around the waist.
"Sap," she murmured, flush to the top button of his shirt.
A second twinge spread through his feathers. His heartbeat went through the roof. "You-"
That´s when the golden-haired boy attacked swinging an angel sword. The rogue reaper had shown up after all.
For a second Castiel was stunned motionless. He was unprepared. He was done. He was going to die. This time for good. No one would bring him back. No one would mourn him. No. They would celebrate his death in Heaven. He tried to push May behind him. She must not be harmed.
She didn´t agree. Like a wild beast she jumped forward and offed the innocent looking killer in a flash of deadly blade.
He gaped at the lifeless vessel at her feet and the angelsword in her hand. "What? Who? What?"
"The angel with the silver-tongue." Her dark eyes twinkled mockingly. "Did you miss me?"
He blinked rapidly. "Why should I-"
"Strap on your wings. Let´s fly out of here, angel baby." She grinned like a maniac. A grin so very familiar.
He flinched back. No. This couldn´t be. She was dead. Dead. "M-Meg?"
"Clarence." She laughed. "Didn´t you know? Really?"
"No feathers, no wings, no dice," he confessed bitterly. "How could I have known?"
"The rumors are true then. Doesn´t change a thing, though. Let´s get out of here." She grabbed him by the sleeve.
He struggled against her grip. His best shirt ripped. "What part of I can´t escaped your under-"
She pulled him in. "Listen, boy wonder, you will accompany me or I´ll kill Nora."
He dared to look into her dark eyes. No. She wasn´t bluffing. It was just like her. He couldn´t take the risk. His boss Nora didn´t deserve to die and she had a little daughter depending on her. "Okay."
"Good that we sorted this out. Let´s go to my place." She dragged him along and he, well, he let her take him. What should he have done anyway? She was a demon. She could kill him and anyone around in a second. She could do whatever she wanted with him. He ignored the phantom pain of his wings fluttering with exhilaration. Not possible. He had no wings. He was no angel. He was only human.
Her apartment was small and dark, a dump smelling like desperation and loneliness. The real May hadn´t been the happiest person he assumed. "Did you kill the owner of this vessel?"
"No. She was already dead. I haven´t killed anyone since our last clash."
He watched her closely and realized she was telling the truth. It was not only the new vessel that was different about her. She appeared softer. She appeared somehow unsettled, even a bit traumatized. "You are not the evil abomination I once knew."
"Oh cute!" she said, drowning in sarcasm. "What a comfort coming from a fallen angel who got himself fucked and killed by a reaper."
"Almost killed," he corrected her. "How do know about that?"
"I followed your trail which was easy enough after you called yourself Clarence. Why did you do that?"
No. She was the same. Always gloating about him being a misfit. "It is a good name. As good as any name."
"Did that reaper slut call you by that everyman´s name, too?" A little spit sprayed over her lips.
"No. She didn´t know me under that name."
"Oh." She circled him like prey. "Didn´t you trust her then?"
The scenario and mood reminded him of the day they had their first clash. How much he despised her back then. "I thought she liked me because she kissed me and had intercourse with me. I was wrong about her intentions." Only the ring of fire was missing.
"Stupid pansy Castiel. I can´t leave you alone for a minute."
He must have done something wrong if she was using his real name. "I remember you did the same. You kissed me to steal my angel sword-"
She grabbed him and kissed him fervently. A kiss so much like their very first kiss, in every way worthy of their unexpected reunion. He didn´t kiss back but also didn´t struggle against her. It was she who pushed him away, spitting with fury. "Only for that. Huh?"
"I did not mean that," he said, licking her saliva off his lips. Since their last kiss so much had happened but even as a human he had never had occasion to be with anyone beyond April, which made the pleasurable sensations he was having now even more outrageous. "I am sorry."
"Relax," she huffed, stabbing her finger pointedly against his chest. "I´m not gonna rape you."
"I know that." She was in charge. She could wipe him out. She could destroy him. Yet he wouldn´t want this any other way. "I missed you."
"Shut up." Her face twisted in rage. Her eyes turned pitch black. A color that was simply beautiful.
That´s what she was and always had been. A thorny beauty. "I care for you."
"Shut the fuck up!" She hit him. Slapped his face like he was a little boy.
Slightly irritated, he rubbed his burning cheek. "Is this custom? Some kind of ritual before we start making out?"
"Are you kidding? After you left me to be stabbed by Crowley? After you made my existence a misery? You fucked me and the whole universe."
His shoulders drooped. "I agree. I failed you. I deserve to die."
"Don´t you dare pull lost little sheep on me."
A phrase that sounded somehow familiar. "What sheep? I am trying to understand. Why are you here?"
"Not to kill you."
"No? What then?"
"I don´t know." Her face went blank. Casually she pointed to the sofa. "Get some rest."
She left him standing there and hurried into the next room. She banged the door shut behind her.
What is she doing in there? he wondered. A demon didn´t need any sleep. No. But he did. Pretty confused about the recent events he dropped onto the sofa. Rest. Yes. Rest is good. Well. He thought he´d got better at the process of falling asleep. He tossed and turned for hours, his non-existent wings hurt as if they were trapped inside his body. And weren´t they since he had become a human? Trapped in a life he couldn´t bear. In a manner of speaking close to hell.
Hell! Slaughtered bodies. Screaming. Lucifer grinning at him. Meg. A trashed mess of flesh and blood at his feet. One twitching black eye staring up at him... Fraud.
He screamed himself awake. His throat hurt. His heart was beating like a hammer. Darkness. Cold and scary. He fumbled for a light. The next second she was there, sitting by his side, stroking his hair. "It´s okay, Clarence. Nobody is gonna hurt you."
"It was not me who was hurt," he whispered, anguished. "It was you."
"You were dreaming about me?" she replied, amazed. "Why?" She feathered a kiss on his forehead.
The undeserved touch banished the cloud of darkness from his heart. "I shouldn´t have left you behind."
"It´s done." She put her feet up, getting comfortable next to him. "I´ll live."
"I was looking for you."
"No kidding!" Her hands started roaming over his chest, opening his shirt button by button, feeling inside.
"N-not as a human. I couldn´t," he stuttered, suddenly short of breath. "What - are - you - doing?"
"What do you think, cloud-hopper? I still want you even if you´re not a virgin anymore. I´ve wanted you since the first time we met."
"I threw you into the fire." And she considered him peculiar.
"Exactly." Her impatience prevailed. She ripped his shirt open, tearing the remaining buttons off.
He didn´t even flinch. He was too distracted by her glittering lips and her nipples perking cheekily through the dress. Is this really because of me? "I don´t have any powers. I don´t know if I can keep up with you."
"I´ll fuck you until there´s no mark of that slut on or in you." In a swift motion she got rid of her dress. She wore nothing but skin and the blue shimmering pendant underneath.
"Why is that even of import?" he said, gazing, more perplexed than worried. And aroused.
"It is to me." She snaked her body around him, rubbing at all the improper places, not subtle getting a good grip right away. "Ah. Someone agrees with me."
Oh Lord. A fluttering moan slipped past his lips. "Meg..." Is she doing this to hurt me? Maybe later? Is she using me? Will she betray me? Does she even know herself? His non-existent wings tingled to the tips of every feather.
"Put up or shut up." She claimed his mouth, her tongue sweeping around sharp and possessive, making a home for herself.
The last bits of his nightmare faded away when he kissed her back urgently. She came for him. She was here. He wasn´t alone anymore. God forgive me. "I want you."
"My angel. My little tree-topper." Her rough fingers were scraping over his skin, tearing off every piece of clothing he was still wearing, licking and sucking noisily on his flesh.
Why do I have this weakness for evil? Why does she feel so good? Where is this going? Will I end up in the flaming pit of damnation? His hard-on throbbed eagerly. I don´t care. He seized her ass and pulled her flush against him. The heat between them was a glorious blaze. They both drew a sharp breath due to the sensation.
"Stop thinking," she ordered huskily, and slithered down to his crotch. He was already hard. Frankly he was rock-hard. He was beyond ready. Her lips found the tip of his shaft, exploring, giving moist comfort. "Mm. Let´s find out if there is any grace left."
"Oh. Oh Lord."
She sucked on the tip.
"Ah. No. Please. Not like that."
"Already too much?" she murmured, amused.
"Yes. No. I can´t-"
"Make up your mind, angel boy," she smirked against the line of his cock, teasing the tip a bit more, sucking on it again.
He whined. He bucked. He pushed.
She swallowed the head and let go again. "Good boy."
What am I doing? What am I- "Yes. Do this again."
She suckled. Pleased. "That flavor."
"What? Is something wrong?"
"No, sweetie." She licked up and down the shaft, making the most exquisite sounds. "Just you...mm...taste...mm...like...aw...infinity." Her lips enclosed the head and sucked on him so roughly he cried out. "Jesus! Meg!" He stopped her by grabbing her hair, twisting a few strands around his trembling hands, his breathing out of control.
She grinned and slid back up, resting her wet pussy on his oversensitive cock. Her hands guided him inside.
He couldn´t help but glide into her naughty snatch. She felt so warm and tight it took all of his human willpower not to come at once. Groaning, he pressed his face against her breasts nuzzling a nipple.
"There you go! Ah! I think I can still taste a speck of angel." For a few moments she remained in place, clenching around his throbbing flesh, savoring perfection.
"Stop talking!" he hissed, wrapping his hands around her ass. Do I want her to take control like this? Do I even like it?
She started moving her hips in slow delicious circles. "Aw. No. Only human." She licked her lips. "Defenseless." She pushed her tits into his face, made him bite them so harshly they turned red hot sore. "Soft. Tender. Victimized." She pushed him deeper inside of her. "Oh. Yet horny. Yeah. So horny for the demon...do tell me...did you know you wanted to fuck me when we met? Did you know after you pushed me against the wall? Did you know going crazy? Did you, huh? Did you?" She rode him like a wild horse running free. The pendant around her neck flew up and down in sync with her movements, glimmering bluish.
"You stop talking like that," he groaned, not quite uneasy about her innuendos. "Don´t mock me..."
"Hey! I´m not the one who lost his grace." She pinched her nails into his hips.
"Bitch!" He bucked in rage stuffing her hole with one heck of a smacking blow. His wings beat in heat. The feathers burnt. Burnt.
"Oh yeah. Keep talking dirty, wingless pansy," she squealed diabolically.
Okay. That was enough. Whatever he was. Angel or not. He had to show her. Spurred on he flipped her and got on top, not thinking for a second that she could kill him in a heartbeat. "Stop. Talking. Right. Now." He fucked inside of her. Hard. Remorseless. Lewd. She squealed louder. He sealed her lips. She bucked against him like the wildest beast, her nails scratching over his back like she intended to rip him apart, ruffling his phantom feathers to shreds. He groaned with relish at the sensations being triggered by her. He had wanted this for so long. Eternity even. He didn´t know he could have this not being an angel. He didn´t know a demon was able to give him this exquisite pleasure. His strokes became deeper and slower. Intense. Oh hell. So intense. He fucked her. Yeah. Fucked her. His wings spread in glory. She had stopped taunting him, but was moaning his name instead, again and again. He´d never known repetition could be so good, so salacious. He´d never thought he could be overwhelmed by something as trivial as intercourse. His cock filled her up. Again and again. Her eyes widened. Her lips parted in awe. Her body twitched and turned violently and then...tensed up. She threw her head back, mouth open, neck exposed, screaming her lust. "Yes Castiel. Fuck me. Fuck me to paradise." She came shouting a different name in adoration as if he was stronger and mightier than ever. As if he had never changed.
"Meg." The burning in his crotch swelled up until he felt like bursting. "Oh gracious!" He spilled over and filled her loins with his seed. Good. It was good. He was with her. He was flying. Heaven. I´m in Heaven. For a few seconds he believed he was really back and then he fell to the ground again, though she caught him safely. Stunned he rolled to his side and pulled her into his arms. Surprisingly she didn´t object to snuggling. He gifted her lips with a lingering kiss. "My caretaker. So beautiful."
"Shut up," she breathed, but her lips were telling a different story. "Thorny pain, my ass."
"Mm." Keeping her body pressed to him like a blanket he drifted ... overly pleased by her unheard of endearments.
"Damn it, Clarence. I feel so clean."
"I learned that from the pizza man." He laughed, a strangely wistful sound.
"Bragger," she teased without heat and kissed him mute. As punishment she didn´t let him fall asleep, no, she riled him up until he ended up fucking her on the kitchen counter, her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his backside. Afterwards she ordered some pizza and the third round was fought out on the ground among empty pizza boxes. Finally she was pretty satisfied with her human angel and he was allowed to come to bed with her.
There he was surprised to feel her quivering like a skinned alive rabbit in his embrace. "Are you cold?"
"Why didn´t I die?" she raged at him. "What did you do to me?"
"I weaved a few layers of my grace into the bandages. I didn´t know for sure if it would work. I could only hope."
"Wicked bastard," she purred softly, nuzzling closer, belying her harsh words.
"Abomination," he murmured with so much love dripping from every single syllable of the insult she stilled instantly. Only her fingers kept ruffling the hairs at the base of his neck. His feathers on the other hand were properly smoothed out and his phantom wings settled to rest while he drifted off, not afraid of what this night´s dreams might bring or whether she´d kill him in his sleep. He was right to let himself fall, because he was blessed with strange unknown images, neither from the past nor the present.
A mesh of light and dark.
Silvery. Different. Unique.
A spirit of the stars.
He smiled in his sleep. He was happy. He was alive. He was Castiel, Angel of the Lord.
The demon was watching over him.
One day. Maybe. God willing.
We are going to Heaven, Meg.