*This is a short story based upon one of my absolute favorite television shows- "Supernatural".
*Please remember that this (and all stories published on here) are automatically copyrighted to me. If you wish to reproduce any or all parts herein, just ask for permission.
For those of you who are not familiar with the show, Castiel (Cas) is an ex-angel and Meg is a demon. If this offends your sensibilities...read something else.
Thank You,
Dawn
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Castiel kept glancing over his shoulder, checking to see if he was being followed. What he was doing, or about to do, broke every fundamental rule of Heaven. 'It's a good thing I'm no longer an angel,' Cas thought ruefully. Never in his millennia of existence had he ever thought this would happen: banished from Heaven, his Grace stripped, powerless...human. All because he believed in, and had actively assisted, Dean and Sam Winchester in their quest for an alternative to Armageddon. He had grown fond of them-no longer looking at humans as inferior beings-but as the marvelous, awe-inspiring, creative and cunning beings his Father had created. Shrugging the depressing thoughts away Castiel turned his mind once again to the task awaiting him. Should this go as planned, well...it might be a revolution the likes of which neither Heaven nor Hell had seen before.
Walking through the woods Cas finally saw the old wooden cabin where the meeting would be held. Circling it, he looked for signs that anyone was waiting to capture-or kill-him. Finding no one he softly stepped up onto the porch and walked to the old oak door. Turning the knob he entered into the main area which consisted of a sofa, wood burning stove with a stack of wood beside it, a table and chairs which looked original to the old cabin, and a large hand carved bed. Despite the sparseness of furnishings, it was homey in a simple way. Dean and Sam had shown him the cabin as it was one of their bolt-holes for emergencies. The last time he was here had been with them, Meg and Crowley-self named King of Hell.
Shaking free of his reverie Cas went over to the ancient woodstove and began a fire to ward off the chill in the air. It wasn't quite winter yet, but the nights were no longer as warm. Taking off his trench coat, he threw it over the back of one of the dining chairs then proceeded to get the percolating coffee pot set up and placed it on the woodstove to heat. Memories flooded his mind-of Dean and Sam, of the pain and pure determination to win that permeated their entire beings; of Meg, the surprisingly helpful demon with a wry sense of humor that hid the pain in her beautiful brown eyes; of Crowley and his machinations to conquer everything, though he could be helpful at times...if doing so helped his cause.
Cas sat at the table, waiting, hoping against hope that he would not be disappointed in the outcome of this meeting. There wasn't much he could do to defend himself now that he was purely a human and no longer one of his God's warriors. Dean and Sam were, in what spare time they had, teaching him to shoot and Castiel already knew hand to hand combat. But that wouldn't do much good against someone-something-who wasn't human. Not when he was used to having the power of Heaven and no longer had that 'mojo' as Dean referred to it.
Footsteps sounded on the front porch. Cas sat up straighter and gripped the handle of the sawed-off 12 gauge leaning against his chair under the table. But as the door opened, he saw there was no need to worry. Meg walked in with her long dark, curly hair floating like a cloud, her eyes darting around the one room. Even though she was a demon, Cas couldn't deny her simple girl-next-door appeal. If he'd been born human and had met her...but he hadn't. Casting that thought out of his head, Cas rose to greet her.
"Don't worry, there's no one else here. Did anyone follow you?"
Meg gave him that look; the one she seemed to reserve for anyone who was fool enough to doubt her ability to do anything she needed in order to survive. Including changing sides in this war they were fighting. "Well, they did try to follow me. Unfortunately for them, I wasn't in the mood to play follow the demon to a secret rendezvous. I'm assuming, since you're sitting here comfortably that no one trailed you either?"
"No. I was very careful in coming here. The consequences of anyone finding out about our meeting would be dire," Cas told her. "Coffee?"
"Only if you've got something stronger hidden in this shack to add to it," Meg replied.
Castiel poured two cups half full of coffee and sat them on the table. He went to a cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Glenfiddich scotch then brought it back to the table where Meg had taken a seat.
"I do not, as yet, know much about human alcohol. Will this make it "strong" enough for you to drink?" He asked without deceit or sarcasm.
"You know, that might just make it bearable to sit here and talk about being a traitor to my own kind. Thank you, Cas."
Cas added a few drops to each cup and sat down across from Meg. In surprise he watched as she continued to fill the cups to the brim with the strange Glenfiddich liquor. "Does that make the coffee more palatable?" he asked.
Meg laughed; a delightful, hearty sound that sent a shiver down his spine and caused a surprising reaction in the front of his pants. Surreptitiously, Cas reached down to readjust the proof of his unhealthy and aberrant desire for a fallen one. He may no longer be an angel-and proof of that was straining against his pants-but that didn't mean he would have sexual relations with a demon. Even one as pretty, smart, devious and arousing as Meg was.
"It absolutely makes it more palatable, honey. Try it and see for yourself," Meg dared him. She was hoping to do than talk during this meeting. In fact, if she had her way, there wouldn't be any talking done tonight at all. From the first time she had seen Cas is his 'meatsuit' she'd wanted him, even knowing that he was an angel-and therefore her natural enemy-hadn't kept the desire at bay. Over time it had just grown stronger and tonight she was going to assuage her curiosity and lust.
Meg watched as Cas shrugged philosophically and took an experimental taste of the coffee. Watching his beautiful blue eyes widen as the scotch and coffee hit him was so amusing that she took a drink and held the cup in front of her mouth so Cas wouldn't see her smiling at his astonishment. He looked up at her, his face reflecting the surprise in his eyes and took a second, longer drink.
"This is good, no wonder humans overindulge in the fruit of the vine," Cas whispered in awe. "I can understand, if all alcohol tastes this good."
Meg nodded her agreement and poured them both a second cup. They sat at the table talking about nothing important until she could tell that Castiel was slightly drunk. Just enough so that his inhibitions would be lowered, but not so much that his performance would be affected by the alcohol. She had come by earlier in the day, scouting the area, and made the bed up with clean sheets. After all, the Winchester's used this cabin and she had no idea the last time the bed had been made. They may be handsome, but they just didn't compare to the man in front of her. Castiel's dark blue eyes were what some would call "soulful", filled with emotions which could barely be guessed at and his wavy dark brown hair begged to have her running her fingers through it while he pounded into her.
"I don't know about you, big boy, but this chair is uncomfortable. What do you say we take this over to the bed?" Meg asked as she stood up and made a show of stretching her arms over her head and bowing her back which thrust her breasts out and emphasized her small waist. Castiel's eyes were unwillingly drawn to the sight of Meg's slim body displayed in front of him. Everything about her fascinated him: her full pouting lips, her dark hair swinging around her shoulders and back, her tight ass encased in snug jeans and especially her beautiful breasts that were causing his mouth to water. That reaction was again happening in the front of his pants, they felt way too tight and very uncomfortable.
Cas raised up to walk over to the bed and felt a bit light-headed, a very disconcerting effect. "I think I over-estimated the potency of this alcohol. It's strange, I've watched Dean empty an entire bottle by himself and he didn't appear to suffer any side effects. However, my head does not feel correct. Is this normal?"