Conversations With Meg
Title: Conversations With Meg
Author: jennytork
Recipient: spn_summergen*
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: some torture, though milder than what's shown on the show itself.
Summary: Five conversations Dean had with Meg that he forgot when he was brought back to life, and one he remembered.
Spoilers: for "Mystery Spot", season 3, "Lazarus Rising", "Yellow Fever", and "Caged Heat"
Mode note: Where the intended recipient defaulted after the deadline, stories are posted as gifts for the community as a whole.
CONVERSATIONS WITH MEG
FORGOTTEN #1:
"Well, well, well," her voice dripped across my consciousness like a song that I'd rather never have heard again. "Dean Winchester.... fancy meeting you here."
'Here' was a small town in Georgia. I'd taken Sammy there so he could rest after that whole Mystery Spot thing, because the boy was strung out so bad he was jumping at everything. "You've got the advantage of me."
She chuckled nastily, the redhead's green eyes blinking inky black as she looked at me. "Is that any way to talk to an old friend?"
"Old friend?"
"One that had you fooled that she was your brother?"
Ice slid down my spine. "Meg."
"In the borrowed flesh." She sighed as my gun zeroed onto her forehead and her shoulders slumped. "Now, come on -- is that any way to greet a lady?"
"You're no lady."
"True. But you're on borrowed time."
I cocked the gun.
"Look." She took a step forward. "I'm playin' straight with you, here, okay? I can't make it easy for you, but I can show you the ropes once you're there and once you -- well. I can help you a little."
"Not interested in your lies. Hell is hell, there's no help there!"
"Dean, for once in your life, would you listen to someone?"
I began the exorcism -- cursing hearing my own voice stuttering. I've got to memorise that thing!
She flung her hands in the air. "Fine! Be that way! Just don't say I didn't try to help you, because I did! You were the one who threw it away!"
And she tilted her victim's head back and fled with the famliar screaming roar.
I jammed my gun back into its holster and went on about my business after I made sure the girl was safe and would be found soon. Meg had left her alive and in good condition.
All thoughts of her were soon banished as my focus shifted back to my brother. Sammy needed me, and I wouldn't be there much longer.
There was so much to do and so little time.
FORGOTTEN #2
It's a lie that it's dark in Hell. It's bright -- it has to be, for the torture to be most effective. If you can only feel and hear, it's not torture in its full extent.
Tasting your own entrails isn't as effective if you can't see what you're eating.
Feeling the knives work on your flesh and bone isn't as effective if you can't see them coming.
Knowing exactly how much time passes is another form of torture. Eternity isn't eternity if you can't sense the slowness of its passing and realise it's not ever going to end.
It was only ten years before my head wobbled up off the Rack and I saw her there. Her form was female, but her face was unfamiliar. That meant nothing, demons could shift their forms at will here.
Her eyes looked familiar, though. As though I'd seen them before. ".......wh...."
"You don't recognise me, Dean? I'm disappointed -- but not surprised. Maybe this will help." Her form shifted to the face of a blonde waif, barely out of college. "Or this." Then it grew, became male -- and was my brother.
"Meg," I snarled.
"Give the boy a gold star," she said, showing me a rare mercy in the Pit and shifting back to the blonde waif.
I realised she'd probably pay for that mercy later on, but for now it was like a drink of cold water in a desert. "What....do you want?"
"I'm here to practice, Dean," she said with a cold smile and her kind eyes shifted, becoming black from corner to corner. "You're going to be the one that I hone my skills on for awhile."
"Skills?" I gasped. ".....no....."
"Yes, Dean." She moved to a table and picked up the first of many knives that her hands and my flesh would become intricately intimate with. "Oh, please -- cry all you want. Scream as loud as you can. It's the most beautiful music that exists here." She paused, leaning down and brushing her lips over the shell of my ear just as the knife entered my side.
I arched, screaming my throat raw.
"Does it hurt?" she purred in my ear. "I'd say I'm sorry...but I don't believe in lying."
Her hands moved as if playing my body like an instrument with her knives as sheet music -- and I passed out.
Another small mercy she granted me. Normally, I wasn't able to.
I woke, convinced Alistair had taken her form to add to the torture. It never crossed my mind that it might have really been her.
FORGOTTEN #3
In the end, I cracked. I begged and pleaded and said I'd do anything if the torture would just stop.
Alistair's own hands lifted me from the Rack, but he handed me over to someone else to heal me. "You have a week."
"He will be ready," Meg's voice promised. She led me away, blind and nearly deaf from pain.
I regained my senses to find myself being slowly healed. And I learned that kindness could be a kind of torture in its own right. "Why?" I croaked.
"Because," she answered calmly. "You're going to be the best. And I'm going to teach you how."
I learned much from her over that week. More than I will ever fully remember.
I forgot she taught me those lessons in the chaos that followed. When my knife bit into the flesh of my first victim, all I could feel was relief.
At last, it was me giving the pain instead of getting it.
That was all that mattered.
FORGOTTEN #4
It became a competition between Meg and I. Soon I was not only her equal in torture -- I was her better.
She claimed to be my better. As if.
Sometimes we would tag team a soul. Usually when she wanted to talk to me. She seemed quite proud of me, of the way I did my work.
But lately, quakes had shaken Hell. It was after one of these that she came, grinning from ear to ear.
I fought the temptation to take the knife I held and widen that grin for her. "What has you so amused?"
"You're still fighting your impulses. Why?"
I smirked at her. "Because you like the pain."
She laughed. "You learn well."
"Always have."
"Care to let me have a shot at her?"
I looked at the soul on my Rack and shrugged. "Knock yourself out. She's a mewler."
"Oh, good, I like those...." She took the knife from me. I made certain to nick her palm as she did so.
I began to tell her what I'd already done, when a noise I'd never heard before shook Hell to its foundations. It sounded like my name was being called by something immensely powerful.
Shaking my head, I ignored it and began to list the tortures I'd already inflicted on the woman's soul.
Mid-word, a searing pain unlike any I'd ever felt -- and believe me, I'd felt a lot of pains over the decades -- shot into my left shoulder and burned down my arm. I felt myself pulled from my feet and up and up and up.
I forgot speaking with Meg that final time in the shock of suddenly feeling no pain and feeling dry, humid air pull into lungs used to breathing sulfur and smoke.
I forgot Hell itself in the shock of feeling my heart thudding inside my ribcage once more upon discovering I was inside of a pine box.
FORGOTTEN #5
I'm dying. If Sammy and Bobby don't get this solved, I'm dead.
I know I'm dead.
I don't wanna die. I don't wanna go back there.
But I'm gonna end up just like this sheriff. Just like him. Dead and bloody and delirious and....
The door opens and a dark-haired woman walks in. ".........Dean?"
I just look at her, wobbling where I stand. "...get....back...."
She holds up her hand. "Easy....Easy. Holy hell, you look like--"
"Don't say it...."
She looks at the sheriff, then at me. "You're in no shape to listen to anything I have to say right now."
"Who the hell are you?"
She smirks. "Doesn't matter right now. You won't remember it anyway." She looks down at the body. "Tell you what, let me take care of him. You just focus on you, okay?"
"Why......helping me?" I can barely speak through my foot-thick tongue.
The smirk returns, larger this time. "For old times' sake."
I frown, too far gone to make sense of that. I barely notice her dragging the sheriff away and returning to clean up the blood and bodily fluids.
By that time, I'm sitting on the bed, rocking with my face buried in a Bible I've found, my lips moving in a heartfelt prayer. I feel lips brush my sweaty forehead, but I don't open my eyes. I hear the door close, but I'm sure I'm imagining it.
Then I hear a sweet child's voice chirp, "Hello, Dean!" And I know my torture's only begun.
REMEMBERED #1
"Sam!" I hollered, feeling my throat scrape raw but watching that broad back continue walking until it was out of sight! "Sam, no! Sammy!"
It was over. It couldn't be over. I felt my knees buckle and I grabbed onto the Impala to keep my footing.
No. It couldn't end like this.
"It's not your fault, you know."
I whirled, stunned at seeing her there. "You look like hell."
"Thank you for the compliment. I'll shower later." Meg took a limping step toward me. "Honestly, I had to make sure you're okay."
"I'm not okay," I heard myself say, stunned that I was telling a demon this. "I'm far from okay."
She licked her lips and tilted her heard toward where my brother's shell had wandered off like a more sentient Frankenstein's monster. "It's not your fault. Him like this."
"No, but he's my responsibility."
She nodded slowly. "Okay, then." She waved a hand and started to turn to go.
"Tell me why I shouldn't send you back to hell right now."
Meg smiled over her shoulder. "Because, like it or not, I'm the closest thing to family you've got right now."
I winced -- because she was right. When you added up sheer time, she'd been a sort of sister to me longer than I'd been back with my actual brother.
Even if I didn't remember most of the details.
"Thanks for the back-up in there," she said, facing me again.
I nodded. "We won't be on the same side forever, Meg."
"I know." She smiled at me and it didn't feel weird or make my skin crawl. Which in itself was weird. "But I'll always be your better."
I scoffed. "As if." For some reason it felt like an old argument.
As did her bright smile before she turned and walked away, her last words ringing in my head.
"Go find your brother, Dean. My father was wrong about many things, but he was right about this -- you need him."
END
Author: jennytork
Recipient: spn_summergen*
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: some torture, though milder than what's shown on the show itself.
Summary: Five conversations Dean had with Meg that he forgot when he was brought back to life, and one he remembered.
Spoilers: for "Mystery Spot", season 3, "Lazarus Rising", "Yellow Fever", and "Caged Heat"
Mode note: Where the intended recipient defaulted after the deadline, stories are posted as gifts for the community as a whole.
CONVERSATIONS WITH MEG
FORGOTTEN #1:
"Well, well, well," her voice dripped across my consciousness like a song that I'd rather never have heard again. "Dean Winchester.... fancy meeting you here."
'Here' was a small town in Georgia. I'd taken Sammy there so he could rest after that whole Mystery Spot thing, because the boy was strung out so bad he was jumping at everything. "You've got the advantage of me."
She chuckled nastily, the redhead's green eyes blinking inky black as she looked at me. "Is that any way to talk to an old friend?"
"Old friend?"
"One that had you fooled that she was your brother?"
Ice slid down my spine. "Meg."
"In the borrowed flesh." She sighed as my gun zeroed onto her forehead and her shoulders slumped. "Now, come on -- is that any way to greet a lady?"
"You're no lady."
"True. But you're on borrowed time."
I cocked the gun.
"Look." She took a step forward. "I'm playin' straight with you, here, okay? I can't make it easy for you, but I can show you the ropes once you're there and once you -- well. I can help you a little."
"Not interested in your lies. Hell is hell, there's no help there!"
"Dean, for once in your life, would you listen to someone?"
I began the exorcism -- cursing hearing my own voice stuttering. I've got to memorise that thing!
She flung her hands in the air. "Fine! Be that way! Just don't say I didn't try to help you, because I did! You were the one who threw it away!"
And she tilted her victim's head back and fled with the famliar screaming roar.
I jammed my gun back into its holster and went on about my business after I made sure the girl was safe and would be found soon. Meg had left her alive and in good condition.
All thoughts of her were soon banished as my focus shifted back to my brother. Sammy needed me, and I wouldn't be there much longer.
There was so much to do and so little time.
FORGOTTEN #2
It's a lie that it's dark in Hell. It's bright -- it has to be, for the torture to be most effective. If you can only feel and hear, it's not torture in its full extent.
Tasting your own entrails isn't as effective if you can't see what you're eating.
Feeling the knives work on your flesh and bone isn't as effective if you can't see them coming.
Knowing exactly how much time passes is another form of torture. Eternity isn't eternity if you can't sense the slowness of its passing and realise it's not ever going to end.
It was only ten years before my head wobbled up off the Rack and I saw her there. Her form was female, but her face was unfamiliar. That meant nothing, demons could shift their forms at will here.
Her eyes looked familiar, though. As though I'd seen them before. ".......wh...."
"You don't recognise me, Dean? I'm disappointed -- but not surprised. Maybe this will help." Her form shifted to the face of a blonde waif, barely out of college. "Or this." Then it grew, became male -- and was my brother.
"Meg," I snarled.
"Give the boy a gold star," she said, showing me a rare mercy in the Pit and shifting back to the blonde waif.
I realised she'd probably pay for that mercy later on, but for now it was like a drink of cold water in a desert. "What....do you want?"
"I'm here to practice, Dean," she said with a cold smile and her kind eyes shifted, becoming black from corner to corner. "You're going to be the one that I hone my skills on for awhile."
"Skills?" I gasped. ".....no....."
"Yes, Dean." She moved to a table and picked up the first of many knives that her hands and my flesh would become intricately intimate with. "Oh, please -- cry all you want. Scream as loud as you can. It's the most beautiful music that exists here." She paused, leaning down and brushing her lips over the shell of my ear just as the knife entered my side.
I arched, screaming my throat raw.
"Does it hurt?" she purred in my ear. "I'd say I'm sorry...but I don't believe in lying."
Her hands moved as if playing my body like an instrument with her knives as sheet music -- and I passed out.
Another small mercy she granted me. Normally, I wasn't able to.
I woke, convinced Alistair had taken her form to add to the torture. It never crossed my mind that it might have really been her.
FORGOTTEN #3
In the end, I cracked. I begged and pleaded and said I'd do anything if the torture would just stop.
Alistair's own hands lifted me from the Rack, but he handed me over to someone else to heal me. "You have a week."
"He will be ready," Meg's voice promised. She led me away, blind and nearly deaf from pain.
I regained my senses to find myself being slowly healed. And I learned that kindness could be a kind of torture in its own right. "Why?" I croaked.
"Because," she answered calmly. "You're going to be the best. And I'm going to teach you how."
I learned much from her over that week. More than I will ever fully remember.
I forgot she taught me those lessons in the chaos that followed. When my knife bit into the flesh of my first victim, all I could feel was relief.
At last, it was me giving the pain instead of getting it.
That was all that mattered.
FORGOTTEN #4
It became a competition between Meg and I. Soon I was not only her equal in torture -- I was her better.
She claimed to be my better. As if.
Sometimes we would tag team a soul. Usually when she wanted to talk to me. She seemed quite proud of me, of the way I did my work.
But lately, quakes had shaken Hell. It was after one of these that she came, grinning from ear to ear.
I fought the temptation to take the knife I held and widen that grin for her. "What has you so amused?"
"You're still fighting your impulses. Why?"
I smirked at her. "Because you like the pain."
She laughed. "You learn well."
"Always have."
"Care to let me have a shot at her?"
I looked at the soul on my Rack and shrugged. "Knock yourself out. She's a mewler."
"Oh, good, I like those...." She took the knife from me. I made certain to nick her palm as she did so.
I began to tell her what I'd already done, when a noise I'd never heard before shook Hell to its foundations. It sounded like my name was being called by something immensely powerful.
Shaking my head, I ignored it and began to list the tortures I'd already inflicted on the woman's soul.
Mid-word, a searing pain unlike any I'd ever felt -- and believe me, I'd felt a lot of pains over the decades -- shot into my left shoulder and burned down my arm. I felt myself pulled from my feet and up and up and up.
I forgot speaking with Meg that final time in the shock of suddenly feeling no pain and feeling dry, humid air pull into lungs used to breathing sulfur and smoke.
I forgot Hell itself in the shock of feeling my heart thudding inside my ribcage once more upon discovering I was inside of a pine box.
FORGOTTEN #5
I'm dying. If Sammy and Bobby don't get this solved, I'm dead.
I know I'm dead.
I don't wanna die. I don't wanna go back there.
But I'm gonna end up just like this sheriff. Just like him. Dead and bloody and delirious and....
The door opens and a dark-haired woman walks in. ".........Dean?"
I just look at her, wobbling where I stand. "...get....back...."
She holds up her hand. "Easy....Easy. Holy hell, you look like--"
"Don't say it...."
She looks at the sheriff, then at me. "You're in no shape to listen to anything I have to say right now."
"Who the hell are you?"
She smirks. "Doesn't matter right now. You won't remember it anyway." She looks down at the body. "Tell you what, let me take care of him. You just focus on you, okay?"
"Why......helping me?" I can barely speak through my foot-thick tongue.
The smirk returns, larger this time. "For old times' sake."
I frown, too far gone to make sense of that. I barely notice her dragging the sheriff away and returning to clean up the blood and bodily fluids.
By that time, I'm sitting on the bed, rocking with my face buried in a Bible I've found, my lips moving in a heartfelt prayer. I feel lips brush my sweaty forehead, but I don't open my eyes. I hear the door close, but I'm sure I'm imagining it.
Then I hear a sweet child's voice chirp, "Hello, Dean!" And I know my torture's only begun.
REMEMBERED #1
"Sam!" I hollered, feeling my throat scrape raw but watching that broad back continue walking until it was out of sight! "Sam, no! Sammy!"
It was over. It couldn't be over. I felt my knees buckle and I grabbed onto the Impala to keep my footing.
No. It couldn't end like this.
"It's not your fault, you know."
I whirled, stunned at seeing her there. "You look like hell."
"Thank you for the compliment. I'll shower later." Meg took a limping step toward me. "Honestly, I had to make sure you're okay."
"I'm not okay," I heard myself say, stunned that I was telling a demon this. "I'm far from okay."
She licked her lips and tilted her heard toward where my brother's shell had wandered off like a more sentient Frankenstein's monster. "It's not your fault. Him like this."
"No, but he's my responsibility."
She nodded slowly. "Okay, then." She waved a hand and started to turn to go.
"Tell me why I shouldn't send you back to hell right now."
Meg smiled over her shoulder. "Because, like it or not, I'm the closest thing to family you've got right now."
I winced -- because she was right. When you added up sheer time, she'd been a sort of sister to me longer than I'd been back with my actual brother.
Even if I didn't remember most of the details.
"Thanks for the back-up in there," she said, facing me again.
I nodded. "We won't be on the same side forever, Meg."
"I know." She smiled at me and it didn't feel weird or make my skin crawl. Which in itself was weird. "But I'll always be your better."
I scoffed. "As if." For some reason it felt like an old argument.
As did her bright smile before she turned and walked away, her last words ringing in my head.
"Go find your brother, Dean. My father was wrong about many things, but he was right about this -- you need him."
END