disclaim ;; I do not own Supernatural. This story is written for entertainment and to further my plot development.

information ;; Taking place in 06.10 Caged Heat. Heavy spoilers for the season finale. Incredibly awesome integration of plot points from different seasons. I believe myself to be a genius with this one plot. Entire story inspired by the song "Back Again" by 16 Frames and my Tumblr dash which was suddenly bombarded with sexy CasxMeg kisses. I have random chapters written and the entire story is planned. I will finish this, even if it takes me until next season. The more reviews, the more I write. The less reviews, the less I will update. Please enjoy.


Later, he might admit to his mistakes. To the Winchester Weakness, despite being an Angel of the Lord. Sometime between baiting and switching Crowley in what he would think to be the right move, and right before completing the ritual, he might admit to himself that he was more of a Winchester than he thought, and perhaps he would feel remorse for not listening to Dean. Fool him once, shame on her. Fool him twice, shame on Crowley. Of course, with the Winchesters stopping the Apocalypse, there is no way to tell the future, not anymore.

Quite frankly, he wouldn't want to.

Passion blooms in every crevice of his mind, moans and gasps tickling his senses. Fingers wind in his hair, warm lips press against his, and in this moment he belongs to himself and his worldly desires. 'You wear your meatsuit like a coffin. Relax a little,' Meg had whispered. She showed him everything, showed him how to live. In those quiet moments, after the act, laying beside each other, in the comforting darkness, he could almost feel human. Her light touches to his skin, beads of sweat glistening beneath the stars. Their breathing fills the silence their words dare not touch. To the angel, this is his secret moment, one the Winchesters will never see, will never invade.

His quiet moment shatters under a familiar call. The voice intrudes on his silence with a request. One he does not wish to answer, still in the quiet after, but one that he must. Stirring from Meg's touch, the angel gives her one long look before vanishing. She understands the conditions of their relationship.

Sam is looking into the distance, as if the human might be able to spot him coming, as he answers the call. Clearing his throat, he says, "I'm here, Sam. Where is the box?"

Sam turns, and a grin crosses his face. "I can't believe you fell for that. That was the plot of Raiders, idiot."

He can feel the frustration growing in his gut. The thought of having left Meg for this, an insignificant, trifling matter. He responds with more anger than he'd thought, and with better wording than he'd intended, learning the act of deceit from Dean Winchester himself. "I'm mid-battle, Sam."

The Winchester scoffs. "I couldn't give a rat's ass about your little pissing match with Raphael."

He grits his teeth, tightening his fist. "Listen to me, Sam-"

"No, you listen!" Sam shouts, at his breaking point. Even soulless, he still has a sense of urgency. "I don't care what you're dealing with up in Heaven. You owe me."

"You may not care, but believe me-"

Sam shakes his head. "I'm sorry, do you think we're here to talk this out?"

"Sam, I can't just-"

"If you don't help us, I will hunt you down and kill you," Sam threatens angrily.

"Will you, boy?" he asks, feeling every will to hurt the Winchester before him. To show him a thing or two about the threat he is making. Who he is making it to. Nothing will be gained from it, and he stops himself short. "How?"

"I don't know yet. But I will look until I find out, and I don't sleep."

"You need help, Sam."

"I need your help."

The truth of that statement sends a pang of regret through his chest. He knows he owes Sam more than he has, but that is neither here or now, and he isn't ready to admit to that mistake. Not yet, not when he's making so many more.