Pulling her blade out of Crowley's shoulder, Meg braced herself for what she was sure would be his death-blow, staring straight into his eyes. She would die, defiant to the end, so that her boys and her unicorn could live and close the Gates, taking Crowley down when they did.

"What the Hell?" she screamed when Sam leapt from the car and rushed toward them. Crowley turned his head slightly and let out a scream when Sam splashed holy water over both of them. Meg fell to the ground, screaming with Crowley as the holy water burned into her already-damaged vessel.

"C'mon, Meg!" Sam yelled, tugging her to her feet. She stumbled and fell to the ground once, blinded by the holy water. The asphalt scraped her palms as Sam scooped her up and ran with her toward the car, her flesh still smoking.

Her vision cleared as Sam slammed her in the backseat and the car sped away. Cautiously, she sat up and stared at Crowley out the back window where he stood, furiously staring after the car, smoke still rising off his vessel. She smirked and raised her middle finger at him through the glass.

"What the Hell, Sam?" Dean shouted from the front seat.

"Cas told me to protect her!" Sam snapped, turning in his seat to look at her. "She's still injured, Dean."

"Well, thanks for that," Meg drawled, turning away from the window. "You can let me out now and I'll be on my merry way."

"I don't think so," Dean spat. "If you're not dead, this time we're gonna keep an eye on you."

Meg narrowed her eyes at him. "If I wasn't still injured from getting tortured by Crowley's goons, I'd reach around this seat and strangle you."

"That's why we're not letting you out of our sight this time," Dean said. "Every time you show up you just try to fuck us over again."

"Not true," Meg muttered, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. Too injured to teleport from the car, she silently cursed Crowley for branding her with a sigil that left her unable to abandon her current vessel. She turned inward and tried to focus her power on healing herself, ignoring the Winchesters arguing in the front seat.

When she opened her eyes again, the boys were pulling up to a gas station. Without waiting for permission, she slid out of the car and strode toward the restroom, no longer limping. Without looking in the mirror above the sink, she opened the tap and splashed the yellowish water on her face. As soon as her skin stopped feeling dry from the blood, she swished some water around in her mouth to wash the taste of metal and sulfur from it. When she spit into the sink, the water ran pink for a moment before it washed down the drain. She turned off the tap and braced her hands on the metal, finally looking at herself in the mirror.

Clear of the blood, she could finally see the extent of Crowley's damage to her face. Yellowish bruises were smeared across her skin from his punches, and when she pulled the bandages Castiel had put on her wrists aside, she saw that, while better, the wounds were still an angry, discolored red and puffy at the edges. She rotated them and winced at the burn, turning on the tap again to run water over them. Finally, she snapped her broken nose back into place with a small yelp.

In the dingy gas station bathroom, she couldn't examine all her injuries, but she could feel them. She winced again when she shifted and her shirt came unstuck from her back, some of the fresher wounds opening again.

"Yo, Meg, you done taking a piss?" Dean shouted, tapping on the door. She rolled her eyes and shut the tap off again.

"Keep your pants on, shortbus!" she called back, running her damp fingers through her hair and making a face when she caught a snag. Schooling her face into her trademark smirk, she swung the door open. "Were you afraid I flushed myself down the toilet? As fun as it would be to take a trip to the Ministry of Magic, I don't think it works like that."

"Yeah, keep smiling," Dean said, slapping a strip of leather around her wrist and tightening it. She snarled down at it when she saw the sigils that decorated the bracelet and tried to jerk her wrist from his grasp, only to find herself immobile.

"Asshole," she snarled. Dean smirked and bent down to hoist her over his shoulder. She grunted and felt the wounds on her back open again as he walked her to the car and tossed her into the backseat. Dean tied and identical bracelet to her other wrist and slammed the door, jarring her feet.

"Dude, you could be a little less of an asshole," Sam said, glancing back at her. She snarled at him from the backseat, wincing when Dean slammed his door and the car rocked. Turning her head toward the seat and closing her eyes, Meg once again concentrated on healing her body.

The first thing I'm gonna do when I get outta here is burn that damn sigil off my meatsuit, she thought, concentrating on her back.

.

"You carry her in," Dean said to Sam when they stopped again. Meg rolled her eyes when Sam opened the back door and leaned over her.

"I can walk, you know," she snapped as he grabbed her arms. "You even saw me kill a couple of those demons."

"Then you nearly got killed by Crowley," Sam said, rolling his eyes right back at her.

"I'm not thanking you for the holy water trick," she told him as Sam slid her out of the car.

"Didn't expect you to," he grunted as he picked her up. She glanced around as Sam closed the car door with his boot.

"Where the Hell are we?" she asked. "It looks like the first ten minutes of a horror movie."

"Somewhere safe," Sam answered, turning around and walking toward a small door.

Meg shifted in Sam's arms. "If I promise to be a good girl and not bolt, will you put me down? I'll bat my eyes real pretty and everything." Sam glared at her, and she let her face slide into an innocent expression. "Pretty please?"

"Shut up, Meg," Dean growled, opening the door. "Cas told us to protect you, so we are."

Meg wrinkled her nose. "I'd like a shower instead." Dean huffed as he led them into the bunker, and Meg stared around, taking in the books and the homey furniture. "When did you guys get a Batcave?"

"It was a long year," Sam said dryly, setting her in a chair.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Yeah, I know. Can I get a shower now?"

.

After her shower, Meg paced around the warded room the Winchesters had locked her in. Captivity was, for the most part, boring. She paced, read the outdated magazines scattered about the room, and went through the closets to find some clean clothing that actually fit her.

For the most part, she concentrated on healing herself. As the days past she watched the marks from Crowley's torture fade from her vessel, the wounds closing themselves up and the scars turning back into smooth, unblemished skin. She lost count of the days until the Winchesters came back into the room, their faces pale but triumphant.

"Hello, boys. Here to give me last rites?" she asked, rolling over on the bed. "Or do I get a last request before you slam me back down into Hell?"

"We're not gonna slam you back down into Hell," Dean said, smirking. "You're gonna be the last trial, Meg."

She raised her eyebrows at them and laughed. "What?"

"The last trial is to cure a demon," Sam explained.

"Are you two stupid? You can't cure a demon," Meg said, rolling her eyes. The Winchesters stared at her. "You two are serious? How does that even work?"

"You get eight injections of pure blood on hallowed ground, and then a bloody hand to the face with a modified exorcism," Sam told her. "After that, you're human, and the gates are closed. Crowley and the rest of the demons stay in, and you stay out."

"As a human," she said slowly, looking between them. "I think I'll pass and take my chance down in Hell."

"Well, it was you or Crowley," Dean said, smiling at her.

Meg frowned and narrowed her eyes at them. "You have Crowley?"

"In our dungeon, safe and sound," Dean told her.

Meg got up from the bed and looked at Sam. "Give me Crowley and I'll do it," she said, sliding her angel blade from her jacket. "I want him dead." Without answering, Sam scratched away the devil's trap on the door and allowed her to walk into the hallway. "So, how come I got the cushy cell and not a trip to the dungeon with all the fun toys?"

"We just found it," Sam said, shrugging.

"I can't believe you two are still alive," she drawled, following Sam down the hallway.

"There were a few times we weren't," Sam pointed out, opening another door. "He's in here." Meg stared at the devil's trap that covered the floor before her eyes rested on Crowley in the middle of it, tied to a chair with some sort of collar around his neck.

"Kinky, Sam," she commented, stepping into the room.

"Well, if it isn't a whore and a Winchester," Crowley said, smiling at them. "What is it with you and demons, Moose? Tell me, are you chugging her blood yet?"

"Shut up, Crowley," Sam snapped. Meg watched him silently, eyes darting the assortment of torture instruments on the wall.

Crowley watched her. "I see. You brought the whore in for a little playtime."

"As much as I'd like to do that, Crowley, a direct approach is the better one," she said, walking farther into the room. "I'm not gonna get slammed in with all the other demons, but neither are you. I'd love to see you scramble for power down there when they lock you all in, but I really, really want to do this." She tapped her blade against her lips and smirked.

"How are you going to do that?" Crowley asked, smirking back at her.

"I've got a get out of jail free card," she told him, springing forward and driving her angel blade into his heart. She twisted it and smiled when he choked, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "This is for Lucifer, and for me, and for them, your highness." She twisted the blade again, stopping only when the light faded from Crowley's face and his vessel went limp in the chair.

Meg stepped away, wiping her blade on Crowley's suit and tucking it back in her jacket. She walked back to the doorway and stared at Sam over the trap holding her hands up in a placating gesture. "Do I get to walk to the car to get to wherever we're going, or are you two gonna throw me over your shoulders caveman-style to get me there? 'Cause that could give a girl all sorts of nasty ideas."

"It's a short drive," Sam told her, scratching away a little at the trap. "I think Dean'll let you walk."

"Oh, goody."

.

"Remind me why I have to be tied up in a not-fun way?"

"In case you go all psycho bitch on us and try to kill Sam when the injections start comin'," Dean said, locking the other handcuff around her wrist.

Meg rolled her eyes and jostled the handcuffs. "You know if it wasn't for the symbols, I could just bust outta these things." She curled her hands around the arms of the chair. "How do I know you two aren't just gonna gank me and walk out?"

Dean snorted. "Right, after going through all the trouble to bring you back to the bunker and then drag you out here?"

"Hey, I don't know how you two get your jollies," she said, smirking. Dean opened his mouth to reply when the sound of wings filled the church and Castiel walked up to them, frowning. "Heya, Clarence."

"Cas, what are you doing here?" Dean yelped, jumping away.

"Dean, I need your assistance in completing the angel trials," he said, looking at Meg. "Why is she tied to a chair?"

"They're surprisingly kinky," Meg quipped, rolling her eyes. "What's this about angel trails?"

"I am going to close the gates of Heaven," he said.

"And here I was hoping to find out what sex with an angel was like when you're a human," she said dryly.

Dean's face twisted in disgust. "What d'ya need, Cas?"

"I will tell you outside, Dean. Please give me a moment with Meg," Castiel told him. Dean frowned but walked out of the church, muttering. "I did not know you were in the bunker."

She shrugged. "Not surprising. Humans lie, and they don't like me."

"Your wounds are better," he observed, looking at her face. "The ones on your true form as well."

"Well, if I'm gonna be stuck in this meatsuit for the rest of my human existence, I figured I'd better take care of it," she said.

Castiel walked closer to her and knelt, resting his hands on her knees. "Meg, I…"

"None of that sappy crap," she snapped. "We gotta do what we gotta do, Cas. If you still think you need to fix things up there, then pull on your big girl panties and do it."

"Still, I…regret how this is ending," he said quietly.

She rolled her eyes at him. "I'll watch the stooges for you, don't worry."

"Find me when your soul comes to Heaven," he ordered softly, standing up.

"Oh, please, like that's gonna-" She was cut off when he leaned down and kissed her roughly, grabbing the ponytail she'd pulled her hair into and tugging on it. "I said no sappy crap."

"A demon does not give an angel orders," he said.

Meg snorted. "You finally grow a sense of humor and you're leaving. Nice."

He smiled at her. "Goodbye, Meg," he said, walking out of the church and softly closing the door behind him.

Sam walked out of the confessional and stared at her. "Did I hear Cas?"

"Yeah, he's goin' back upstairs," she said, watching him fiddle with the needles. "How long does this take?"

"Eight hours," he answered, walking toward her. "Here we go."

Meg turned her head, baring her neck to him. "Give it to me, baby."