Meg didn't dream.
She didn't even sleep. Her demonic energy kept her sustained. Sleep was for the weak.
So when she found herself in her apartment one second, and then a grassy field the next, she knew something was wrong. She hadn't teleported, nor had anybody teleported her. That had a distinct feel to it that was absent.
Plus, she could feel the heat of the sun warming her skin. That was another thing that demons didn't have: the ability to feel temperature. She never got hot or cold.
“Hello, Meg,” a voice said behind her.
She tensed and realized that she had no weapon. Well, she still had her powers. Turning around, she saw a man calmly watching her. He had brown hair, a mustache, and beard. He was dressed extremely casually in a white t-shirt, jeans, and light brown jacket.
“I'm not going to harm you,” he said.
“Yeah, forgive me if I don't trust you,” she replied.
“You're forgiven,” he said, and his smile held some kind of private joke.
“Who the hell are you? Did you bring me here?” she demanded.
“Yes. As for who I am, call me Chuck.”
She studied him, trying to get a sense of what he was. She got...nothing. He didn’t feel like a human or a creature. Angel or demon. He was a big, empty blank, and it scared her.
“Stop trying, Meg. You cannot see who I am. Accept that.” His tone was one of someone who was used to being obeyed.
Meg crossed her arms and glared at him. “What do you want?”
“I need your help.”
“And why should I help you? You’re being mister secretive after all.”
“I should clarify. I need you to help somebody else.”
The name hit Meg like a punch, bringing to mind images of tan trench coats, tousled hair, and extremely hot kisses. Chuck chuckled and she got the sense that he knew exactly what she was thinking.
“Castiel's dead.” Killed by the Winchesters for betraying them and taking over the world.
“I have it on good authority that Castiel's death will be remedied.”
Meg didn't speak for a few moment, trying to process this information. Castiel was being brought back? That was...
She was even more scared of the Being in front of her. Who was he to know this kind of thing?
“If what you say is true...I’m a demon. He’s an angel. Why should I help him?” she asked, while inside her head she was screaming to wake up. It didn't work.
“Because you’re the only one who can.” Chuck turned and walked a few paces to a fallen tree. He sat on it and sighed. “When you find him, he’s not going to be the same.”
“Again, Demon. Angel. Why not have one of his own kind--”
“Because his own kind want to kill him. And those that don't are too intimidated by those that do to do anything.” Chuck sounded incredibly disappointed. “He’s going to need protection.”
“He’s strong, can’t he just--”
“I told you, he won’t be the same. He’s going to think he’s human, and you have to let him. A barrier has been placed in his mind. His memories...altered. He cannot remember who he is or was.”
Chuck was silent.
Meg turned and closed her eyes. This weight felt wrong and unfair. She was a demon, allied with Hell and--
Except, she wasn’t. She was a demon, but Hell? Hell was Crowley’s domain now. She was an Army of One and that was a joke. She had been laying low since her assassination of Crowley. Or rather, the horrible trick that had been played on her making her think she'd gotten her revenge.
That Castiel had played it on her had almost been as bad as seeing Castiel playing god.
“His powers, except healing, will be locked away. He’ll only be able to access them in an emergency,” Chuck explained, breaking through her thoughts.
Meg nodded. This might work out. She'd protect him and he'd protect her. Her own private angel guard.
She turned back around. “Why me though?”
“You intrigue me, Meg.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yeah. I want to keep an eye on you.”
She snorted. “Are you trying to flirt? Because it won’t work.” She waved her hand towards him. “Not my type.”
Chuck gave a smile that held many secrets. “I’m not. Besides, I know you belong to someone else.”
“What? Who--” There was a flash of light and Meg awoke on the floor. She shook her head, hoping to clear the memories of the strange dream. It didn't work. They clung to her mind, and she had the strangest urge to start driving. She wasn’t entirely sure of her destination, but she knew how to get there.
A day later she was hiking through a forest. The sound of a rushing river filled the woods. Most of the animals, sensing her demonic nature, had fled.
A few miles in, closer to the river, she heard footsteps and the breaking of twigs. Clutching a knife, she started towards it. The pull that had brought her here was stronger now, driving her closer and closer to the person making the footsteps. Rounding a tree, she saw a figure.