"I wish I could have gone ghost at that point," returned Meg sympathetically. Had she gotten the hell out of Dodge, maybe she wouldn't be here right now. Alas, she had made her bed and laid in it, and really...it wasn't that bad. Meg had changed, maybe not a lot to those on the outside, but she was different. Here, in this weird ass place, she was even more different.
She had a kid, who was in theory theirs from another parallel universe, and out of her bizarre and undefined feelings for Castiel she had taken to looking after the kid. He wasn't a bad kid. Half angel, half demon, all mischief and just like mommy. Meg was, well, proud of him. Easily, too, and she doubt the version of her sitting on the bench who she had bummed a cigarette off of would feel the same. Meg didn't want Rory anywhere near this other version of her, they'd had a hard enough time getting off on the right foot in the first place.
"There's a pub a few streets over if you want a tall one," said the dyed-brunette with a jerk of her thumb. Meg then pondered over it and shook her head.
"Do you believe me, yet? That I'm not some shifter. 'cause honestly, it doesn't matter if you do or not. What matters is what we're going to do, instead."