a/n: Oh. Hi, guys. Guess what? This is the last chapter of "Half"! Are you excited? I am. See the closing author's note for more info.

Chapter 21: Change is Coming

It may be better to move on and to let life just carry on
And I may be wrong.
Still I'll try.
Because it's better to love whether you win or lose or die.
It's better to love,
And I will love you until I die.
-The Airborne Toxic Event, "The Graveyard Near the House"

Meg let him in to the bunker when he popped back, and at his questioning look she pointed up. "Surveillance cameras. Not original, judging by this place's general retro vibe, but I think Winchester the bigger's been busy."

"Ah," he said. He followed her as she drifted down the steps. The place was a shambles. The boys hadn't bothered to put the books away, and the tables and floor were covered with discarded volumes and empty beer bottles. Cas frowned. "Some of these are quite rare, I think."

"Yeah," Meg said, her fingers trailing across worn covers. "They look it. Maybe we should clean up. Would hate for something to get spilled on one of these."

He peered at her with probing midnight eyes. "I'll take care of this. You should rest. Your wound—"

"It's nothing, Clarence. I told you."

"Meg—"

She turned away and flicked her hand in weary dismissal. "Cas—"

"No," he said. He stepped toward her and grasped her arms, gently but firmly. "For once, listen to me. I can see it." He ran his palm over her shoulder, and his brow was deeply furrowed. "The wound is like a bright scar in your true form. A crack in the darkness. It should not be."

She swallowed. "You ever see a demon walk away from an angel blade before?"

He shook his head, a slow denial. "In my experience the blow is always fatal. You were extremely lucky."

Her chin drifted downward and her eyes darkened. "Lucky. Yeah. I guess just how lucky I am remains to be seen." She bit her lip and chewed hard. "That knife Sam and Dean have, the one Ruby gave them. You can hurt a demon with it and not kill them. It doesn't do permanent damage."

He released her and stepped away with a small troubled exhalation. "I know little about the knife, but I do know it's not the same as one of our swords. Our weapons are forged with angelic Grace, Meg. It would be the same as if I smote you and somehow you survived. You would be forever marked by Grace. Transfigured by it."

"Transfigured. Jesus, Clarence, that's a big word. What exactly are you saying?"

He hesitated. Held up his hands in a gesture of futility. "I don't know, Meg."

"So what do we do?" she said after a moment.

"I don't know," he said again. "It will never heal. It will always pain you. Possibly it will grow."

She absorbed the idea with a soft shudder and a curse. "What're we talkin' here, pain wise? Like constant agony, or just a bum knee that bothers me when it rains?"

"How does it feel now?"

Her face scrunched. He wondered for a moment if she'd answer him, but finally she shrugged her good shoulder and tossed out a careless grin. "I've had worse paper cuts."

Lie. It was writ all over her, in every line and curve. He didn't call her out on it, and for that she was grateful.

She looked up at him. His face was ravaged, bleak and worn, his eyes like starless galaxies spinning and endless. "I doubt there's anything in any of these books about how to heal a demon," she said with a cynical twist to her mouth. "Why would anyone want to?"

"I want to," he said in a quiet, rough voice.

"Welp, feathers, that makes two of us. Unfortunately I think we're in the overwhelming minority on this one." She wandered away and did a slow circuit around the room, pausing to study some of the more arcane objects as she passed them. He knew she was just stalling, and he let her. He had the patience of an angel, after all.

Finally she stopped in front of him. Squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "Fine," she said. "If this is how it's gonna be, then fine. I'm not transfigured yet. I can still help those two idiots with their mission."

"What mission?" Cas said.

"The Gates, sugarplum. They want to close the Gates of Hell, right? Crowley and all his little minions get sucked inside? Sounds like a plan to me." She shook back her hair and grinned like a wild thing, all teeth and flashing eyes. "Now, I'm gonna go take a shower before I get mistaken for the Creature from the Black Lagoon and someone throws a net over my ass."

Cas opened his mouth to stop her, but she was gone before he could say anything. He frowned after her, utterly nonplussed. How could he hope to ever understand such a creature? Her moods, her whims, the pride she wore like a mantle. He shook his head and began gathering books and bottles.

A Queen amongst her kind indeed.

Meg turned the shower as hot as it would go and stood beneath the stinging spray. She let it run over her hair. Down her skin. It hit her shoulder where Cas had so recently healed it, and she hissed from the contact. Probed the sensitive spot with gentle fingers. She could feel her true form beneath the meatsuit's skin and Cas was right: all was not well.

She'd heard humans use an expression before: it left a stain on my soul. They said it when they'd done something so awful they felt it could never be washed away. Murder, she supposed, but really she thought that had to depend on who you were killing.

Whatever. Beside the point.

For the first time in her long existence she understood what the expression meant. All her time with Clarence he'd left marks on her; tiny clean stamps like someone writing wash me in a car's back window; but that was nothing compared to this. This was…this was light. Bright and pure and shit fuck goddamn painful, like her arm was plugged into an outlet or someone was constantly sliding a hot knife through her shoulder and out the other side.

He'd said it could grow. He'd said it could transfigure her. What did that even mean? Transfigure her into what? She was a demon. She liked being a demon. She was cold and cruel and heartless and it had worked for her for millennia. Why change a good thing now?

Fucking angels! Why did they have to ruin everything? First he'd nurtured a stupid imaginary spark, and now this bullshit. Muttering and cursing under her breath, she grabbed the shampoo bottle off the edge of the shower and stared down at it.

Oh, fucking perfect. Boy shampoo. Stupid Winchester scented boy shampoo! She cursed louder and threw it out into the bathroom where it bounced around a few times before coming to rest against the sink. There was a bottle of Old Spice body wash that followed it, and a bar of Irish Springs soap that nearly shattered the mirror.

"Fucking stupid Winchesters and their fucking stupid boy toiletries and their fucking stupid shit!" she screamed as she lobbed a can of Gillette shaving cream over the curtain.

Cas dodged the aluminum missile and stared around the bathroom with a puzzled frown. He could hear Meg's yelling out in the main room, and he'd worried that she was injured. Now he was more worried about the state of the shower.

"Meg?" he called.

"Go away, Clarence!"

He pondered for a moment, but the unusually shrill tone of her voice decided him.

"What are you doing?" she cried as he appeared next to her. "Where are your clothes?"

He looked down with a slight frown. "Last time I joined you in the bath fully clothed you expressed displeasure. I thought I would save some trouble and undress first."

She let out a sad little laugh. "I told you to go away. I know I mentioned a raincheck back at…at Remy's, but I'm not really in the mood right now."

"I'm not here…" He let the thought trail off and glowered. "This isn't about sex. I was concerned." He studied her a moment, and his glower deepened. "You're crying."

"Oh, fuck you, I am not. It's just the shower."

He touched her face with light fingers. "You are. Tell me what's wrong, Meg."

She crossed her arms over her chest, a purely defensive gesture, and stood beneath the spray with narrowed eyes and tense, hard muscles. He waited her out, his expression gentle and patient. As much as she hated it, there was something about that look that just undid her. Always had. Her shoulders slumped and she sagged against him.

"I'm a demon, Clarence," she said in a small voice.

"I know that you are. You're a Queen amongst your kind. Haven't I always said it?"

"I know. I know. I'm a crazy demon bitch. Heartless and cruel and mean as a snake. Isn't that true?"

His mouth quirked above her head where she couldn't see, and he stroked her wet hair back off her shoulder. "If you say so."

"It's bad enough I'm all mixed up over some big-eyed angel. I mean, really, that can be spun to my advantage. I'm a seductive minx and not even the holy can resist my sinful charms."

His brow furrowed a little, but he merely nodded. "They are quite charming. And seductive."

"If I have to be transfigured, fine. Shit happens, I guess. Maybe I'll be transfigured into something cool like a fucking banshee. I could work with that. But!" She shoved away and glared up at him. "I draw the line at one thing. I utterly, completely, absolutely refuse to walk around smelling like a fucking Winchester!"

He gaped at her. "Meg—"

"It's all boy stuff in here! Shampoo, soap, body wash, shaving cream, deodorant! I spent a century in Hell subjected to unimaginable torment. I got out and had to swim through a fucking swamp. Now all I want is a hot shower and a clean pair of underwear, and I can't even get any decent smelling shampoo!"

She buried her face in her hands and her shoulders shook. He didn't know for sure if she was crying or if it was just rage, but either way he was paralyzed. One part of him knew, of course, that this outburst had nothing to do with shampoo, but the much larger part was panicking. He'd never seen her so upset before, and he didn't know what to do.

"I…Meg…" He looked around in desperation. "Wait here."

She raised her head. "What…?" He was gone before she could get the thought fully formed, and she stared at the empty air with wide, puzzled eyes. She was still trying to decide whether to be amused or angry when he reappeared, still naked and dripping, his arms overflowing with plastic bottles.

She stared at him.

"Here," he said, holding out his haul like an eager offering.

"Clarence," she said, "did you just pop out to a drug store?"

"Yes," he said proudly. "I got everything I could carry."

She tried to swallow a laugh. "Did you, um…did you go like that?"

His head tilted. He looked down. "Ah. Yes. I was in a hurry."

Meg clapped a hand over her mouth and fell back against the slippery tiled wall. "Oh my God. Holy shit, Clarence. Tonight at eleven: area shoppers were stunned when a hot naked guy made off with a shit-ton of lady-scented bath stuff. In related news, condom sales are at a record high."

He made a low noise. "Perhaps I should have acted with more forethought."

She gripped her stomach and laughed until she could barely stand up. "No, Cas. No." She shoved the bottles aside, and they tumbled to the shower floor with a clatter. She pulled him close and pressed her mouth to his, a long soft kiss that warmed him all the way through.

"Don't ever change, cloud hopper," she murmured against his lips. "Don't ever change."

"What do you think's in it?" Sam said. They were about five hours north of Marguerite, booking it toward the bunker, and they kept returning to the same topic of conversation: Cas' mysterious lockbox and its super-secret contents.

"Hell if I know. Maybe the Colonel's famous recipe, or the formula for Coke. I just want it out of my car. Thing's gotta be a demon and angel magnet."

"Crowley'll probably come looking for it. That Naomi chick, too."

"Yeah, I know. Hopefully between our marked-up ribs and these hex bags, we'll be safe. Cas and Meg should be fine as long as they stay underground. Cas said he couldn't track Meg once she was inside the bunker, and she said the same thing about us. That's some serious Men of Letters mojo."

Sam ran a hand down his face. "Okay, so, what do we do?"

Dean shrugged a shoulder and stared out at the long stretch of road ahead of them. "We take it back. We pop it open. We figure out what's inside. If Cas doesn't know what it is, we do some research. Just because there wasn't much about the blue-lipped guys in our library doesn't meant there won't be anything about whatever this is."

"What about Meg?"

Dean glanced at him, brows drawn together. "What about her?"

"You gonna kick her out?"

He drummed his fingers against the wheel and fiddled with the radio a moment. Finally, "No. Why would I do that? As long as she makes herself useful she can stay. She starts pissing me off, she's gone. It's a big place. I think we can deal with each other."

Sam ducked his head to hide a grin. "What about the cat?"

"Fuck," Dean said with a groan. "I forgot about the fucking cat. No way. I gotta draw the line at the cat. I'm allergic! I'm not having cat hair all over our awesome Bat Cave."

"Cas won't be happy."

"Cas can get the fuck over it. He wants a cat, he can get his own place. The cat can live outside. It can catch mice or whatever. No fuckin' cats."

Sam held up his hands in surrender. "No cats. Got it." His stomach rumbled. "Man, I'm hungry. Think we have time for a quick stop?"

"Sure. There's a Ruby Tuesday at the next exit."

He shook his head. "Fuck you, man. Fuck you so hard."

Dean cackled. "What? They have a salad bar!"

"I hate you."

"Liar. You find my wit refreshing and hilarious."

"I couldn't find your wit with a map and a flashlight."

His only response was to crank the stereo and sing along with AC/DC. He made a gesture toward his ear and shook his head. Sam rolled his eyes and turned to watch the scenery.

Some things, at least, never changed.

End, 21/21

What's in the box?! What's in the box?! Well, it's not Gwyneth Paltrow's head.

Okay, kids, here's what's happening! This is truly the last chapter of "Half of Something Else." Obviously there's a ton more story to tell, but not more of this story. I realized I could either end it now with one more chapter, or write about 20 more chapters and have a giant novel-length fic. I decided I'd rather have 2 novella length fics instead. In that spirit, I'm already working on the sequel, and the first chapter of that should be out within the next couple of days. Its tentative title (as of now) is Half Life. Add me to that nifty little author follow thingie so you don't miss it!

Thanks so much for the huge out-pouring of support for this story. I'm very excited to see so many Megstiel fans out there.