It's undeniable. Meg and Castiel have a very strange relationship. I wrote this right after watching "Caged Heat" (Season 6, Episode 10). It takes place right after. Perhaps, another chapter if I have time. Enjoy.

"Even if this chemistry's a catastrophe
I don't give a fuck
If you wanna taste then take a bite right out of me
I don't give a fuck
Freezing time like a strobe on you, breathing in electronic fumes
We've made our minds and we've made our bets, so let's sink in"

~Breathe Carolina - I.D.G.A.F.

Civil war is not the way Castiel envisioned the aftermath of the Apocalypse to be. What he assumed to be the end of a long struggle only brought turmoil to his home. His brothers and sisters were quickly choosing sides to fight on, and he and Raphael stood in the vey center of their decisions. It made him sick.

The Angel looked down at his two hands. He was in a fairly deserted pub, not far from where Sam and Dean Winchester lay in their beds. Well, only Dean; he was sound asleep, unaware that his soulless brother had gone out to fetch a human girl for… human needs. He shuddered at the thought. Castiel was used to the vessel he inhabited, but the petty emotions? Not yet. Pity, he believed it was, began to rise in the lower part of the vessel's stomach. He continued to stare at his hands, as if they were a visual to the new arising feeling. The Winchester brothers had called him to aid the pursuit of Sam's soul in a demon known as Crowley.

Crowley, the new King of Hell, had informed the brothers that he had inkling to where Sam's soul might be, but Castiel knew better. A soul in between the two of his brothers would be damaged beyond repair. Telling this to Dean, however, had changed nothing. Dean's blind loyalty to his pushed this logic away.

After their attempt came up fruitless, Castiel wasn't shocked to hear that Sam had begun to give up hope. Blankly staring into the distance now, it amazed Castiel how Sam could have kept hope to begin with. Perhaps Dean impacted him more than he let himself believe.

"Thank you."

"This round's on me."

A row of three shot glasses sat idly in front of Castiel. Alcohol had become a very tempting guilty pleasure of his. As much as he belonged in Heaven, battling this war, he enjoyed the tastes of the many drinks he had come in contact with, and now knew why humanity had partially drunk itself to death; alcohol allowed for slurred words but very true thoughts. Picking up the first of the three shot glasses, Castiel knocked it back quickly. He now understood Dean's habits.

It had been a useless day. Besides burning Crowley, nothing was accomplished besides tension and the ever-growing chaos in Heaven. Castiel looked up, as if the bar's cheap tiled ceiling would open the Heavens to him, and bring him to peace and sanctuary. It gnawed at him. He could leave Earth, and fight with his brethren, or he could stay, drinking himself silly and watching over the Winchester boys.

The fact that he wanted to choose the latter almost scared Castiel.

Another shot he gulped down, not taking his eyes off the square bottle of crisp auburn colored liquid on the other side of the bar. Dean had warned him to "take it easy on the booze" but it was easier said than done. It left him with a feeling of fire in his veins. The third shot went down easier, not as scorching as the first down the vessel's throat. Castiel stood, eyeing the bartender, who looked at him with a smug eye before proclaiming that "this round was on her". Suspicious, he vanished before she could refill his glasses.

Now in the cool breeze of the outdoors, Castiel stood alone in the pub's vacant parking lot. With his arms stretched open, he felt the vessel become warm with alcohol and his mouth tangy with the aftertaste. He didn't mind so much. With a silent stride, the forlorn Angel walked out of the lot, his arms swinging to the sides of him. The feelings of uselessness and guilt became more prominent when he was under the influence of human depressants.

The guilt came from his dark plan of manifesting souls. He could easily live with that. But the emotion of uselessness because Castiel could not help Sam and Dean was more… toxic. And he tried to not let it bother him, but it did. Yet, at the same time, Castiel felt used; Sam and Dean called only when they needed him. Isn't that my purpose? The little lore on Angels portrayed him and his siblings as gentle, helpful creatures, so much so, that little girls believed that Angels were watching over them and that they were decked in glitter and light. Castiel snorted. Humans had the tendency to trust. They wanted to believe everything in the world could be righteous and good. He knew that Angels were capable of more than sparkling matter and fairy wings.

But if not in Heaven, what good was he to the Winchesters? Now that he was here, he should be looking for answers, though he knew from the start Sam's soul is beyond repair. Perhaps, it was time that was against the two hunters.

Time. He used it as if it was nothing, and now, on this little planet, it meant everything. And he used his time drinking and watching… pornography.

He could not lie; Castiel was still very much puzzled to why the pizza man found it necessary to inflict pain on the baby sitter, nor did he understand why her annoying shouts of glee failed to wake the children she was hired to watch over. He found this to be highly ironic: Castiel watched over the Winchesters, free of charge. The woman was paid but she was canoodling with a stranger in her employer's house. Perhaps, all humans had the tendency to trust specifically when it came to sexual intercourse.

In all the time Castiel had spent on Earth, he took no interest in women or men that were not directly affiliated with the Winchesters. Though Dean had taken him to the… cathouse, as he called it, it failed to entertain him as much as it entertained Dean. Castiel had begun to suspect he was no good at this human way of interaction, much like slang terms and movie references, but one woman, demon, had proved him wrong.

Instant shame is what Castiel should have felt, but instead, a warm feeling had spread through his face. He lifted a hand to his cheek; a blush had overcome him. Something so strange, so new, as kissing, had caught him off guard. He knew the act of affection was pleasantly simple, but the demon scum had made it horribly complex. His response of slamming her against the wall and proceeding to ravage her mouth did not make it any better. Still, the way she responded, the way she allowed him to lift her and kiss her, never quite left his mind. And he knew from the start she was a demon whore, but she kissed him like a lover, rather than the drooling mess the baby sitter put upon the pizza man. Of course, Castiel's first kiss was his only kiss: there was nothing to hold it up to for comparison.

He could just summon her, or find her and drag her by the head until she answered why she enjoyed his kiss. Suddenly, Dean's words rang in his ears.

"I'd have given you an hour with her first."

It dawned upon Castiel that Dean was not talking about torture, but of the same intercourse of the baby sitter and pizza man. A slight throb in his lower half made the Angel speed up his course into the night.

He could just ask someone, or ask Dean, but Dean had told him that you do not speak of pornography to people. The library could hold answers, but Castiel did not understand why a card was necessary to take books. Plus, it was night. He stopped in his tracks.

Since when did the night stop him?

In a blink of an eye, he was inside the library. A calming sense overtook his mind. Castiel rarely read, but to be in a place filled with knowledge and understanding made him feel with purpose. With that, he picked up the nearest book, and sat on the floor.

It didn't take long before Castiel realized that the library was in sections, and he settled between human health and anatomy. It didn't take him long after that to read every single page that had to do with the female human body. As he finished scanning the last of books, he rose, and disappeared, leaving a scattered mess of books behind him. He was going to find her, for he had big plans for Meg and himself.

Castiel found himself at Dean's bedside. "Dean," he said as he put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Fucking!" Sleep swam in his mumbling and eyes. "Cas? It's 2AM and my day off, what do you want?"

"I need your help… I need to summon a demon. Does Bobby have the necessary ingredients?"

Dean pulled the thin sheet that covered him over his eyes. "Just take whatever and let me sleep."

"Very well." Castiel moved silently, gathering the needed substances, and fled from the little house. With an armful of peculiar jars and bags, he found himself back at the library. Placing the ingredients on the nearest table, he began mixing, chanting and hoping, that somewhere, inside this demon, lay the answers to the inevitable sensations in this body.

"Clarence? This is a fine surprise."

The Angel turned, and there she was, in all her whorish, demon stained filth. Remarkably, she looked clean in her tight black pants and graphic t–shirt. The same leather jacket from the night before, the same set of lips that eagerly took his was on her as well. "Hello, Meg."

She leaned back, hands in her front pockets, her back against the table that held the summoning things. "Hello, Clarence."

"Why Clarence?"

"Why not?" Before he had a chance to respond, she said, "Why am I here?"

"I have… questions."

"You speak and there are so many pauses. Ask them."

Castiel was at a loss of words at her spunk and audacity. He spoke slowly for others to keep up with him, but she urged him on. She was precise.

"Your vessel, is it always dewy?"

"Excuse me?" The look on her face was sheer confusion.

"Dewy. Do I truly make you dewy?"

A half manic, half amused smile spread across her face. She bit her lip and dragged her eyes up and down his form, an action that made Castiel more than uncomfortable. "What if you do?"

"I want to act upon your feeling of dewy."

There was a single twitch in the right corner of her mouth before she burst into a fit of giggles. The noise was annoying but girlishly pleasant to the Angel. He waited for them to subside. When she saw that he was serious, she fell against the table, laughing louder.

"I do not see how this is a laughing matter."

She choked for air. "What makes you think you make me dewy?"

"You said so." He was speaking quietly, such contrast to her loud voice in the empty of the library. "You kissed me. And when I kissed you again, you did it again." He paused. "With tongue."

"Because I wanted your sword."

"Or because you wanted to kiss me." It was Castiel's turn to twitch at his words.

"What are we, five years old?" She sounded exasperated by him.

"I assure you… I am older." He took a step closer to her, and she took a step back, backing into the table as he approached her. "I just, wanted to try."

"You want to try to have sex with me? Why not use your boyfriend?"

Castiel was perplexed. "How does that work?"

Meg put up her hands as if she was going to shove him away. "You can ask and find out!"

"There's something else." Castiel was now placed in front of her. There was sparks in her eyes. Maybe it was fear, but Castiel knew she knew there was nothing to be afraid of. It was something entirely different. "There's no devil's trap. Nothing keeping you from leaving. Yet, you're still here." She looked above them; no intricate symbols bounded her. "I think it's safe to assume you want to be here."

"You're an average Sherlock Holmes, Clarence." She raised her arms, and he instantly tensed as they wound themselves around his neck. "Do you know what you're asking, Angel?" She had bent his neck to her mouth, his ear at her lips. "Humans have mated with demons before, that has been handled. But there is nothing in your library, nothing in your pretty little grapefruit that tells you of an Angel that has willingly gave himself to a demon?" She flicked her tongue against the lobe of his ear. "There is nothing that can bring you back from this sin."

Castiel pulled away, and just when Meg had placed a look of satisfaction on her face, he pulled her forward by her hips and kissed her.

Her lack of movement made Castiel believed he had deduced incorrectly, but there a press of her hips to his and he knew he had her. They kissed feverishly, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip, pushing his mouth open so she could taste him. And he devoured her taste as well. She tasted clean, but maybe that was just her vessel. Nevertheless, the hypnotic grind of her pelvis on his own made Castiel tear his mouth from her, breathing heavily. If this was truly sin, then may he be damned for the next one hour.

"Don't they… isn't this usually done on a bed? A piano?"

"A piano?" She licked the side of his neck, and his grip tightened on her. "Where did you read about that?"

"A book about the color gray, but not all shades of the color were mentioned. It was very misleading."

"Mm." Meg began to undo the tie around Castiel's neck. "Not very experienced, are we?"

"Not… entirely." He pulled the tie off himself and brought her face to his again. "I can learn."

"Undress me."

Was it supposed to move that quickly? Castiel grasped the edges of Meg's leather jacket, pushing it off her shoulders. He moved in jerking actions, now tossing her t-shirt aside. Two lovely orbs of flesh hung in front of him, adorned by a contraption of black and red cloth.

Meg removed it herself, dropping it to the floor. "Now, I undress you." She pulled off Castiel's trench coat, then his blazer. She yanked his white dress shirt from his trousers.

"I still don't understand how this works without a soft surface."

"Don't you worry Clarence." She undid his belt and the buttons to his pants. "I like a little pain."

This bothered Castiel slightly but when a hand went to his enlarged member, he forgot all that clouded his mind. Slowly, Meg was stroking him through the fabric of his dress pants. He watched her fall to her knees, her fingertips clawing gently over the area. "What are you doing?" A panic rose in his voice.

"The baby sitter didn't teach you this? Let me." Without further ado, she dropped his pants and briefs, eyeing the erection that rose proudly in front of her. She went wide-eyed before kissing the tip. "You're in for a treat."

Jolts of electricity sparked through Castiel as he watched the demon open her mouth and place him inside. When he made a move to protest, her cheeks sucked in and her tongue ran along the shaft and he let out a strangled groan. "What is this," he struggled to ask as she repeated the movement over and over again.

She didn't answer. Instead, she continued to caress his cock with the flesh of her mouth and the skin of her hands. To his amazement, she was soft and gentle, so unlike her nature and stereotype. She moved slowly, licking and sucking, while Castiel's arms latched on to her shoulders in attempts to keep him from falling forward as she pleasured him.

"Do you like it?"

"Ahh." His words were incoherent and his head became fuzzy. "What are you doing to me?" He felt his member being pushed deeper into her throat, the constricting, choking movements sending riveting waves of pleasure through his groin.

"Don't worry baby, I got you." She pushed herself back down on his cock, gagging again, coming back up, and kissing the tip. "Unless you want me to stop." She moved her hands down the wet shaft.

"Never, don't stop!" His words came out in pants as he felt his pelvis move on its own. With her mouth wide open, he pushed into her welcoming opening while tearing off the buttons from his dress shirt.

All too soon, she came back up, settling for a slow kiss on his lips. His eyes closed, his body aching and shaking from the hunger for her. He lifted her again, never taking his mouth from hers as he settled her on the wooden table. Shoving all the cups and materials to the floor, he ripped the pants off her legs.

They were smooth, creamy colored. And it was there she lay: thin, much less intimidating and much more delectable to him. He lifted a leg, kissing her ankle before peeling off the offending material that covered her wet core.

"Don't make me wait anymore Clarence, let's see what else you learned from the pizza man." She sounded breathless, and the way she wiggled her body made Castiel mad with pleasure.

"Am I supposed to touch you… there?"

She let out a growl. "I don't care anymore Castiel, just put it in!"

"You said my name!"


In one fluid movement, he entered her. The contact made him cringe as he squeezed his eyes shut. She was wet, hot, and unbelievably tight. Her insides coated him with warmth like none other.

"Now, move." Her voice was hoarse, her eyes were piercing infernos of passion and fire. "Fuck me."

"Yes," his voice came out in a hiss as he removed himself fully, and slammed into her with all his strength. He repeated the movement, his eyes locked on to hers as her mouth moaned sounds of pleasure and pain. He didn't care if she was hurting; this was better than any amount of alcohol, twenty times better than the girl from the cathouse. Castiel's fingertips were digging into her flesh as he pumped in and out of her, her moans of rapture spurring him on.


The simple command only drove him to obey. No teasing, no tormenting, no torture. He went faster, his hands creating blossoming bruises. The Angel leaned over, the table creaking under his weight and rapid, inhumane movement. Kissing her hard in the mouth, he let a single brush of his thumb over the small, quivering organ that was her clit. With a cry of ecstasy, Castiel fell apart, emptying himself inside of her. With a shout, Meg's own climax quickly followed, her insides tense around him.

The two of them slide from the table, slick with sweat and sex. Heavy breathing and aching muscles over took Castiel's body. If he, an Angel, was so tired from this, he couldn't imagine how humans felt. He looked at her, her chest rising and falling, and a very satisfied grin on her face.

"Something tells me," he managed to gasp out. "That we did it much better than the pizza man."

"Oh baby, we're much better than some cheap porno." She stroked his cheek with a finger; a loving gesture compared to the dirty deed they had committed.

They sat quietly, looking at each other only when the other was faced in the opposite direction. "Is it usually this… exhausting?" The Angel inquired.

Meg smiled a wicked smile. "In my experience, the more exhausting the better." She stood and reached over to pick up her undergarments. Castiel cocked his head to the side before delivering a loud smack to her bum.

She yelped, and threw her panties on his head. "Too soon for that, Clarence, but maybe, just maybe," she leaned close to his mouth. "You can learn to fuck me better than any pizza man that walks this planet."

Castiel felt his member grow hard all over again; he would hold that promise against her soon enough.

Reviews. They are... nice.