Day 15 - In Need of a Cause [Supernatural]
Title: In Need of a Cause
Author: Twisted_Slinky
Crossover: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Summary: Meg is sure she's actually dead-dead, but this doesn't look like Hell. And this 'higher being' trying to get her to take this new job doesn't act like a demon. Or an angel, for that matter. References to Megstiel.
Wordcount: ~1100
Disclaimer: I don't own Angel or Supernatural.
A/N: Setting for Angel is during/post season 5-ish. Setting for SPN is post season 8.
The angel blade burned through her essence, turning it to ash inside her host's body. It was a fast death, but just like any other, it gave her that split second to consider her life. Most humans don't take advantage of that split second. They're too shocked or too confused to understand that it's the end. The first time she'd died, as a human, she was the same way, but not this time.
This time, she could consider what she was dying for and move on without regrets.
It wasn't so bad, not really. The battle wasn't over, but she was out of the game early, while she was still on her angel's side. It was somewhat gratifying, knowing that she'd never have a chance to disappoint him again.
When she opened her eyes, she was somewhere new. Which was confusing in itself, since she'd been certain the angel blade was supposed to leave her dead-dead. But weirder things had happened, so confusion transformed to worry. Hell was no picnic when the torturers actually liked her, much less now. And back to confusion again when her vision regained focus.
This was no Hell.
Or, if it was, Crowley was getting particularly subtle with his new torture methods. Because this place looked an awful lot like...Yeah, she confirmed, there was the siren logo. This was a Starbucks. An empty Starbucks, no customers or workers to be seen, but even the overpriced chalkboard menu was up to date.
Perhaps she hadn't given Crowley enough credit for being an evil genius.
"Hope you don't mind, but I've been craving a mocha frappe like you wouldn't believe."
Meg jumped at the sound of the voice, then looked over her shoulder. A woman was sitting at one table, wearing a stylish blue mini dress. Short brunette hair, tanned, curvy, she was pretty. And there was something about her that gave away the fact that she wasn't exactly human.
"This isn't real," Meg said. "So where the Hell am I, really?"
"Of course it's not real," the woman snapped, then shook her over-sized cup at her. "Do you honestly think I'd consume this many calories if it was going to stick to my hips? Uh, no, duh." The she smiled brightly. "As to where you are, well, that's harder to explain. See 'you' aren't really anywhere. The host body you were in is dead and your entire being was composed of a human soul that had been shredded and glued back together again using darkness. All that black smoke burned away when you were killed. So maybe you shouldn't ask where you are. You should ask what you are."
"I'll bite. What am I?"
"A snapshot."
"A death echo?" Meg snorted. "Are you kidding me?"
The woman shrugged one shoulder. "You're an exact copy, a form of what you were the moment you died. That's why you still look like you did then. That's why you still remember what you remembered then. In a way you're dead, but you're not you. You're a copy of you." She sat her frappe down and clapped her hands together. "Okay, let's venture away from the specifics for a minute because I somehow doubt they're helping matters. My name is Cordelia."
"Good for you." Meg made a face. "Are you an angel?"
"Oh, no, not by a long-shot," Cordelia said. "Formerly a human, currently a celestial being in service of the Powers that Be."
"Explain again how that isn't an angel."
Cordelia's nose wrinkled in distaste. "Let's just say theology is a bit wider than what you've been exposed to. And, yes, I realize you're a super old demon, and you've probably met old gods who roamed your earth, and I know you have a bit of an angel fetish, so I get where your mind is at, but let's just say that the Powers That Be, PTB for short, are a little higher in rank than any other spiritual beings you've met in the past. Yes, that includes Lucifer. But the PTB don't interfere with your realm, so you've never ran into them before."
"Then what good are they?"
Cordelia tipped her head, giving the shop's ceiling a short glare. "Good point. Which actually leads us to the reason why we're having this conversation...The Powers That Be, well, they kind of abandoned your realm a long time ago. And with good reason, and apparently that good reason is not one they wanted to share with the class, so I'll have to assume it had to do with your world having angels to watch over it. Other worlds aren't so lucky."
"Lucky?"
"Poor choice of words," Cordelia admitted. "Super poor choice. But my point is, because the PTB doesn't interfere directly, they usually have emissaries who help out when things get bad. I'm one of those emissaries. And, well, you could say I'm on suspension at the moment because I may or may not have attempted to change the future in a way that was seriously frowned upon..."
"Are you going to cut to the chase sometime this decade?" Meg asked.
"I want to offer you a job."
"A job?" Meg chuckled. "This is a job interview? Well, sorry, lady, but I'm retired, and I'm done working for douchebags. You see, I was kind of looking forward to getting some rest. Been dead for a while, you know?"
Cordelia stood up from her chair and sauntered closer to the demon. "That's great. So, you're telling me that no part of you wants to help out the merry band of do-goers you left behind? Not even that adorable Clarence guy?"
"Castiel," Meg corrected, then winced when Cordelia grinned. "I'd get to see him again?"
"In a way, yes. Not directly. He may never know it's you, but you'll be helping him." Cordelia paused. "See, I'm aware of what you've done. The horrible things you've done, the murders you've committed. But we've been watching you, Meg. When someone in the darkness moves to the light, it puts big things in motion. It's how champions are formed. You didn't make it that far. You died before you could live out that destiny. So we think you deserve a new one."
"A new cause," Meg muttered. She shook her head. "How do I know that you're what you say you are? Kind of the queen of manipulation here, sweetheart."
"Well there's really only one way for you to know." She held out her hand to Meg. "Either take my hand or stay here, fade away. It won't take long. And you'll get that rest you mentioned. Or you can keep on fighting. Your choice."
Meg sighed. "I'll probably regret this..."