Meg (meganmasters) wrote in oakdelllogs, @ 2013-05-27 18:31:00 |
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Meg's tiny house was still in shambles. S he knew that at some point she'd have to do something about that, but, for the time begin, she didn't particularly care. Her ruined clothes still lay in a heap on the floor, exactly where she'd stripped them off almost two weeks ago. Ominous brown streaks were smeared across the floor around them, but they were nothing compared to the state of the bed. The formerly white blankets and pillows were almost completely saturated with dried blood that still shown as a dull red in the center, but faded to a rusty brown towards the edges. Clumps of dirt clung to the fabric in places, looking obscenely like clots in the great bloody mess. If she'd been anything but a demon, she knew, this amount of blood loss would have killed her for sure. As it was, the worst of the bruising had mostly faded and the bones had knit back together, though those particular areas were still a little tender. Angry red lines of scar tissue, all that remained of the brutal knife strokes, graced most ares of her body, including her face, but she wasn't worried. Another week or two and even those would fade. Leaving her house, she knew, was a colossal mistake. Hadn't she learned her lesson already? Logically, she knew there was no safer move for her right now than to stay there, behind her wards, in relative safety. Even if the girl managed to approach, the house itself was Meg's weapon. She could blow the glass walls and cut her to ribbons long before she got close enough to do any more damage. She'd promised Sam that she wouldn't start the fight, but she'd also promised that she'd be the one to finish it. But going outside? That was practically begging for death at this point. If the boys had given little sister their knife, then all ti would take was another chance meeting. And, she was slowly getting the impression, nothing that happened here was a coincidence. And yet... Meg tried to wrap her head around what he'd said. The angels had been forced out of heaven. His grace had been stolen. He was human. She couldn't fathom it, had never heard of anything like that happening. But she didn't doubt him. If he said that's what happened, then that's what happened. And Castiel...human...would be in even worse shape than he'd been in while out of his mind. This was the sort of situation the Winchesters should have been handling, but her anger at them clouded her judgement. And besides...certain things, once realized, couldn't be forgotten. Meg wanted to check on him herself, and to hell with the risk. She dressed conservatively in a long sleeve jacket, despite the heat, in an effort to cover the worst of her injuries, but could do nothing about her face. She squared her shoulders and stepped outside. The walk to the small apartment complex seemed absurdly long, despite the relatively short distance. She tried to look everywhere at once and felt plagued by the sensation that she was being watched. Entering the cool darkness of the apartments' lobby brought with it an easing of the tension in her shoulders, but she kept her steps hurried all the same. As she approached the door to the room he'd given her, she hesitated. She wasn't ready for this. Everything in her screamed that, whatever had happened to him, it was too big for her. She wanted to run, but she'd already seen how well that worked out in this place. Arranging her features into a carefully constructed mask of disinterest, she knocked lightly on the door. |