[FIC] Set Phasers to Angel; PG-13; SPN
Title: Set Phasers to Angel
Author: phate_phoenix
Pairing: Castiel-Meg friendship…?
Word Count: 908
Rating/Contents: PG-13; Swearing, Spoilers for 7.17
Summary: When Meg opens Emmanuel’s room a week later, she can feel a change in the air.
Disclaimer: DO NOT OWN
Author's Notes: Fix-it fic! XD Just fix-it fic. Man, it has been a long time since I wrote something.
When Meg opens “Emmanuel’s” room a week after the angel gets admitted, she can feel a change in the air. She steps cautiously inside, eyeing Castiel where he stands by the window, and closes the door behind her. She raises the food tray she’d brought in. “You, uh, feeling up to eating? Because if not, I’m going to eat your pudding cup.”
“It’s yours,” Castiel says, turning around and looking at her.
Meg tosses the tray onto the bed and snatches the pudding. “Awesome,” she chirps, and dives into it with gusto. When Castiel doesn’t stop staring, she scowls at him. “What?”
He tilts his head slightly. “I’m leaving.”
And Meg nearly gags up what pudding she’d eaten. “What?” she gargles, coughing. She spits out the pudding onto the tray and clears her throat. “What?”
Castiel frowns at her. “I’m leaving,” he says again.
Meg cuts her hands through the air. “No. No way. You’re still bug-fuck nuts and I have no intention of having the Winchesters hunt my ass down because you stubbed your toe on Crowley’s face.”
He stares at her again, and Meg wonders if she could even stop him. Probably not. Then Castiel shakes his head. “I did say I would be fine.” He looks back at the window. “It took longer than I expected.”
“Look, no offense,” Meg starts, walking over to him, “but I’m not about to take your word for it. Fuck, yesterday you were calling me Balthazar.”
Castiel glances back at her. “I apologize. I won’t be making that mistake again.”
“Because you’re no longer hallucinating,” she says, raising an eyebrow. Castiel shakes his head.
“I never said that,” he says and touches his temple. “The ‘wounds’ affect me as if I had a soul.”
Meg blinks at him. “I’m not following.”
Castiel glares at her, as if his rambling insane babbling was making total sense and she were the stupid one. “I do not have a soul. I have grace.” When Meg just blinks at him more, Castiel angrily gestures to the corner. “I see my lieutenant there. I can hear her. Were she to touch my flesh, I would feel her.”
“Welp, you’ve convinced me,” Meg says, smiling at him. “You are obviously not crazy. Please, feel free to leave immediately.”
Castiel narrows his eyes at her. “That was sarcasm.”
“Gold star, Clarence.”
Castiel runs a hand over his mouth. “If I were human, or if were to only perceive her as a human would, that would be enough to convince me Rachel is real.” He meets Meg’s gaze. “I am an angel, and I perceive things as an angel does.” He looks away, swallowing. “I’ve been functionally human for so long that it… took time to remember how.”
Meg raises an eyebrow at him. “So, because you remembered to set your phasers to angel, you’re not going to be crazy anymore.” Castiel stares at her, and Meg sighs. “I’m being sarcastic again.”
“Oh,” Castiel says. “You still don’t believe me. Or don’t understand.”
Meg raises her palms. “A little of column A, a little of column B.”
Castiel looks away again, frowning out the window. “They’re there, but I know they aren’t real.” He pauses, and then looks back at Meg. “It’s like I’m dreamwalking,” he says, eyes wide. “The figures are missing something that I, as an angel, can comprehend that a human couldn’t.” He frowns. “There’s no life.”
There’s something stupidly earnest about the way he looks at Meg, beseeching her to believe him. She grits her teeth, crossing her arms, and then scowls. “Okay, okay, fine,” she says. The way Castiel slumps, like just having a fucking demon believe him was enough to take the world off his shoulders, makes Meg feel both warm and pathetic. She gestures at him. “So you’re in top shape, all ahead full?”
Castiel meets her eyes and nods. “The images are… distracting, but not debilitating.”
“Great,” Meg says, unbuttoning her white overcoat and exposing the purple low-cut tank-top beneath. “First thing we do is head to the nearest death row.”
Castiel blinks at her, and Meg’s a little annoyed he doesn’t even look as she strips out of the white coat. Angels.
“Why?” Castiel asks. Meg tosses the coat aside and shakes her head.
“You transferred the… wounds onto you, right?” she says. “Well, just shove ‘em off on some other fucker and be on your way.” At Castiel’s stunned stare, Meg spreads her arms. “Ta-daaa!”
Castiel shakes his head, taking a step back. “I can’t… this is…”
“What?” Meg quips, smirking. “You think spending the rest of eternity like this is penance?” When Castiel looks away, she gestures out the window. “Fix the shit you’ve done-starting with Crowley, preferably, thanks-and then you can call it even.”
Castiel stares at the wall awhile longer. Then, slowly, he meets her gaze. “Dean will not approve.”
Meg just smirks. “Dean doesn’t need to know. You got better. God fixed it. Someone rang a fucking bell, Clarence.” She tilts her head slightly. “Besides, don’t you want to keep Deano safe and sound?”
It’s the right thing to say, Meg thinks, when Castiel’s eyes narrow. He nods once. “I assume you know where we need to go.”
Meg laughs. “It’s where all our number-one draft choices live,” she chirps, grabbing hold of Castiel’s arm. She leans in close, breathing into his ear. “Let me show you which one’s the quarterback.”
Author: phate_phoenix
Pairing: Castiel-Meg friendship…?
Word Count: 908
Rating/Contents: PG-13; Swearing, Spoilers for 7.17
Summary: When Meg opens Emmanuel’s room a week later, she can feel a change in the air.
Disclaimer: DO NOT OWN
Author's Notes: Fix-it fic! XD Just fix-it fic. Man, it has been a long time since I wrote something.
When Meg opens “Emmanuel’s” room a week after the angel gets admitted, she can feel a change in the air. She steps cautiously inside, eyeing Castiel where he stands by the window, and closes the door behind her. She raises the food tray she’d brought in. “You, uh, feeling up to eating? Because if not, I’m going to eat your pudding cup.”
“It’s yours,” Castiel says, turning around and looking at her.
Meg tosses the tray onto the bed and snatches the pudding. “Awesome,” she chirps, and dives into it with gusto. When Castiel doesn’t stop staring, she scowls at him. “What?”
He tilts his head slightly. “I’m leaving.”
And Meg nearly gags up what pudding she’d eaten. “What?” she gargles, coughing. She spits out the pudding onto the tray and clears her throat. “What?”
Castiel frowns at her. “I’m leaving,” he says again.
Meg cuts her hands through the air. “No. No way. You’re still bug-fuck nuts and I have no intention of having the Winchesters hunt my ass down because you stubbed your toe on Crowley’s face.”
He stares at her again, and Meg wonders if she could even stop him. Probably not. Then Castiel shakes his head. “I did say I would be fine.” He looks back at the window. “It took longer than I expected.”
“Look, no offense,” Meg starts, walking over to him, “but I’m not about to take your word for it. Fuck, yesterday you were calling me Balthazar.”
Castiel glances back at her. “I apologize. I won’t be making that mistake again.”
“Because you’re no longer hallucinating,” she says, raising an eyebrow. Castiel shakes his head.
“I never said that,” he says and touches his temple. “The ‘wounds’ affect me as if I had a soul.”
Meg blinks at him. “I’m not following.”
Castiel glares at her, as if his rambling insane babbling was making total sense and she were the stupid one. “I do not have a soul. I have grace.” When Meg just blinks at him more, Castiel angrily gestures to the corner. “I see my lieutenant there. I can hear her. Were she to touch my flesh, I would feel her.”
“Welp, you’ve convinced me,” Meg says, smiling at him. “You are obviously not crazy. Please, feel free to leave immediately.”
Castiel narrows his eyes at her. “That was sarcasm.”
“Gold star, Clarence.”
Castiel runs a hand over his mouth. “If I were human, or if were to only perceive her as a human would, that would be enough to convince me Rachel is real.” He meets Meg’s gaze. “I am an angel, and I perceive things as an angel does.” He looks away, swallowing. “I’ve been functionally human for so long that it… took time to remember how.”
Meg raises an eyebrow at him. “So, because you remembered to set your phasers to angel, you’re not going to be crazy anymore.” Castiel stares at her, and Meg sighs. “I’m being sarcastic again.”
“Oh,” Castiel says. “You still don’t believe me. Or don’t understand.”
Meg raises her palms. “A little of column A, a little of column B.”
Castiel looks away again, frowning out the window. “They’re there, but I know they aren’t real.” He pauses, and then looks back at Meg. “It’s like I’m dreamwalking,” he says, eyes wide. “The figures are missing something that I, as an angel, can comprehend that a human couldn’t.” He frowns. “There’s no life.”
There’s something stupidly earnest about the way he looks at Meg, beseeching her to believe him. She grits her teeth, crossing her arms, and then scowls. “Okay, okay, fine,” she says. The way Castiel slumps, like just having a fucking demon believe him was enough to take the world off his shoulders, makes Meg feel both warm and pathetic. She gestures at him. “So you’re in top shape, all ahead full?”
Castiel meets her eyes and nods. “The images are… distracting, but not debilitating.”
“Great,” Meg says, unbuttoning her white overcoat and exposing the purple low-cut tank-top beneath. “First thing we do is head to the nearest death row.”
Castiel blinks at her, and Meg’s a little annoyed he doesn’t even look as she strips out of the white coat. Angels.
“Why?” Castiel asks. Meg tosses the coat aside and shakes her head.
“You transferred the… wounds onto you, right?” she says. “Well, just shove ‘em off on some other fucker and be on your way.” At Castiel’s stunned stare, Meg spreads her arms. “Ta-daaa!”
Castiel shakes his head, taking a step back. “I can’t… this is…”
“What?” Meg quips, smirking. “You think spending the rest of eternity like this is penance?” When Castiel looks away, she gestures out the window. “Fix the shit you’ve done-starting with Crowley, preferably, thanks-and then you can call it even.”
Castiel stares at the wall awhile longer. Then, slowly, he meets her gaze. “Dean will not approve.”
Meg just smirks. “Dean doesn’t need to know. You got better. God fixed it. Someone rang a fucking bell, Clarence.” She tilts her head slightly. “Besides, don’t you want to keep Deano safe and sound?”
It’s the right thing to say, Meg thinks, when Castiel’s eyes narrow. He nods once. “I assume you know where we need to go.”
Meg laughs. “It’s where all our number-one draft choices live,” she chirps, grabbing hold of Castiel’s arm. She leans in close, breathing into his ear. “Let me show you which one’s the quarterback.”