Sometimes, when Castiel dreamed, she was there.

She was oddly quiet, letting Castiel lay in her lap and listen to him talk about his day.

He loved it when she came, it was a sort of calming effect that kept him alive.

He would talk about adjustments, about how annoying Dean was, or about how much he missed her.

He always welcomed those dreams because they were the only ones he could control. Where he was the god of his own mind and the writer of his own story.

Tonight, they were in the woods, Meg with her usual quietness and Cas telling her about that day's hunt, a Vamp nest in North Dakota that seemed to be overall killing itself before he and the Winchesters even showed up.

While he spoke she usually ran her fingertips over his face and hair, her touch somewhat soothing and she would occasionally let out an "mhmm" when he paused.

Just like in Indiana.

"…I still don't like using firearms," he continued recapping a hunt from earlier this week. "It's uncomfortable. They're like tiny canons."

"Hmm," she replied, looking down at him, just the simplicity of the demon's touch was like a fire to Castiel's now human skin, but he liked how it felt and he was reveling in her company.

"What do you think, Meg?"

She was silent as ever, just looking at him.

And then she did something she never did in his dreams.

She spoke.

"You want to know what I think, Castiel?" she asked as he jumped from her lap, turning to face her with a shocked look.

"I think you fucked up again," her face was void of emotion, but her words hit him like poison. "You let me die. You let your whole family burn. And you killed everything that simply cared about you."

"This isn't how the dream's supposed to end…"

"Nothing ends like it's supposed to, does it Castiel?" He hated how she used his name like that, how her eyes were flicked now to black and her mouth was a thin line of hatred.

"You were supposed to save heaven, weren't you? But you let your pride destroy your home, again."

"Meg…"

"You didn't even try to save me when you got back from Purgatory," she wasn't moving, but it felt like she was right on top of him. And then he saw the shiny silver form in her hand. "You can't even die correctly. At least I died for something noble. Hear me, Cas? A demon had a better death than you ever will."

"Stop."

"I was tortured for the last year and you were too busy worrying about yourself," Castiel went down on his knees, before rolling up to cover his head with his hands.

"You killed Samandriel."

"I couldn't stop that."

"And the other angels? All the ones you slaughtered in heaven? Those Naomi sent you to kill on Earth? You have fallen so far."

"Wake up…"

"And then you broke heaven. Again. Isn't it strange that once you were that one little angel who refused to kill anyone? You stood by in Egypt, but yet now here you are, so many murders under your belt.

"It's too bad Metatron didn't just kill you. I'm surprised you just haven't offed yourself yet."

Castiel felt the nightmare turn cold, watched as the quiet woods morphed into the dark woods of Purgatory, the monsters replaced by the glowing shells of his fallen brothers. Gabriel, Balthazar, Anna, Uriel, even Samandriel and Naomi. The events spurred and changed so quickly that Castiel found himself disoriented.

And then he watched as his brother's faced distorted to form the faces of the Leviathan, their gaping jaws hungry as the advanced towards Cas, their tongues wet for his taste.

And somehow he found himself welcoming it.

And when the first set of jaws clamped around him, he smiled.

—

Castiel awoke to the ice cold of water being thrown in his face. Dean was standing over his bed in one of his robes, and Sam was watching worriedly from outside his room at the Hall of Letters.

It was the same nightmare he had every night since the Fall. It would start out normal, and then turn into a dark place that made him want to never sleep again.

"Was I yelling again?"

"What do you think?" Dean seemed a bit less angry this time. The first few nights the hunter had yelled at him, but he figured Dean was starting to understand what Castiel was going through. "Meg again?"

"And Purgatory. And Angels."

"Well," Dean turned on his heels, all the sympathy drained from his groggy voice. "Don't think about it."

When they brothers left (and after Sam shot him a concerned look, something that made Cas feel slightly better; at least someone was concerned), Castiel fell himself fall back in the bed, his eyes wide open.

I'm sorry.

He began to sob, the second part of his sleeping ritual, slamming his face in the fluff on his pillow.

Can anyone even hear me?

He never felt so alone, so cut off in the world than now. There was that one time, three years ago, when his power had been depleted by him carving a sigil in his chest and banishing himself. But he knew he was going to die, going to be lost in the sea of souls from the battle between Michael and Lucifer.

But what now? What was he supposed to do?

Meg, I'm sorry.

He learned of the demon's death after the Fall, after he made it home to Sam and Dean's, and it destroyed him.

Yet another thing I've let down.

I'm so sorry.

He was running out of apologies, out of things to say to anyone.

I just want to disappear.

He was getting that tired feeling, and he shut his eyes, and prayed for the end to come soon. To take him away from this word, and from himself.

I'm sorry.