Meg took a single step back, chin being pulled in slightly in shock as he snapped. For a moment she said nothing before huffing and turning to walk away. She glanced back at Rory as she spoke.
"This is what the Winchesters do, right? When they have to whine to Castiel?" A beat later she looked up at the sky and threw her finger in the air. It was not a good finger. "They shout at the sky like someone is listening!" A pump of her angry fist before it fell at her side, boots clicking on the tar.
"I've given up on making sense of this place, Rory," she said. "I've hardly been here a few weeks and I'm sick of it, and tired of pretending it's a vacation. It's only Hell, because if it were a vacation or if it were Heaven, we wouldn't be feeling like shit." Turning, Meg paced back up toward Rory.
"I'm not your mother, but if it's just you out there and me out there in the world, I'd rather do it together. Maybe this is some crazy alternate universe where things work out one step at a time. I dunno, but I can't look at the kid that could have really been mine and not feel guilty that he's feeling like he is now. I'm a demon, I'm a real bitch, but I'm not that cold."
Meg shoved her hands in her jeans again, clearing her throat, not really sure where all of that anger and emotional goo had come from. She wanted to pretend she hadn't said it all, and was certain Rory was going to just run away instead of stay, but all she wanted him to do was stay. The woman had no idea how to invite him to do so, no idea how to make that jump, but she couldn't say it wouldn't be the first time where she just did something because it felt like the thing to do.
That's how she ended up dying in the first place. It felt like the thing she had to do.