(no subject)
The sunlight through the car window glares at Charlie like an ant, who been under a magnified glass for too long. Her hoodie is wrapped around her bare torso with little care. The world is blurry around her, with a familiar head splitting migraine that forces her awake.
She isn’t in the small bar parking lot, the trees that line the highway look nothing like the dense woods, heavy with snow that have decorated every New England highway for miles. The window is open, letting in a sharp cold air that tightens her lungs, pierces her skin. With little grace the clothes that decorate the backseat are gathered. They smell sweaty but sterile, which could only mean a dangerous mix of alcohol and regrettable sex. But she can see Meg’s face in the mirror, and the warmth that fills her skin has no trace of guilt.
“Rough night,” Meg teases as she drives.
“Pity me,” Charlie takes a moment to take it in, running her fingers over the red marks on her neck and the finger prints on her hips. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere really.”
“Oh,” Charlie hesitates to pursuit the issue. It is the struggle of morality, between nagging conscience and Meg’s playful smirk. Charlie kids herself calling it role-play, but it’s the whole point of role-play is that it’s never been real. Meg is tangible. The marks on her skin are real, the adventures are real, and Charlie can’t help but be pulled in. Meg demands attention, and with that her there is a small line between oblivion and adventure.
The vibration of a cell phone pulls her back to consciousness. The name Dean displays as she fumbles with unfocused eyes.
“Hmm-Charlie here,” Charlie mumbles into the receiver.
“Angels Charlie? Do you know how dangerous this is?” Dean nags with the same familiar authoritative tone. He is the only one who could talk to her like that without her stubborn, rebel complex kicking in.
“You sound like Meg,” Charlie jokes into the phone, it takes her a few seconds to situate herself in the passenger seat.
Dean’s voice is full of desperation, but he doesn’t give much information away, besides a location to meet. She can hear a deeper voice in the background, but the sounds are muffled.
“So where does Dean want us to die this time? Abandoned town? Oh maybe a wide open field,” Meg quips as she continues to drive.
“Shut up,” Charlie whines, hiding her head in her hands. Dean isn’t far away. It’s a day’s journey if Charlie can last. She rubs her temples as the road seems to go on forever.
“I told you another round was too much.”
“Shh,” Charlie whispers desperately trying to find some sort of peace.
“There's Advil in your bag,” Meg comments, keeping her focus on the road.
There is a quiet, stillness until Meg pulls off the highway onto a small road stop. The food is greasy, and the woods block them in on all sides but one. Charlie sits on a little bench outside of the small building.
“What is it about these places that are so appealing to you?” Meg criticizes as she watches Charlie eat.
“Don’t be jealous-eat these French fries they’ll make you happy,” Charlie jokes, forcing Meg in the general direction of her mouth.
“I’ll bite you.”
“Go ahead,” Charlie stares at her; they are close enough to make it noticeable. The fry is against Meg’s lips, and the world stops as if the greasy food has reached some symbolic meaning between them. Meg opens her mouth, stubbornly accepting the food.
“So we need to be at Dean’s motel room by tomorrow?” Meg asks.
“Well ideally,” Charlie says into her burger.
“It’s just that were passing a town that I have some unfinished business in.”
“Unfinished business?”
“Crowley. He’s too close to pass it up Charlie, he needs to die,” Meg says.
“He’s barely a king Meg, what’s the point?”
“When someone stabs you in the face, it’s nice to get back at them,” Meg states, she gets up from the bench, distancing herself from Charlie.
"What is all of this about anyway-You can't just drag me along everywhere and expect me to be okay with it, I need answers Meg," Charlie questions, her words come out too fast, too strong. She has pushed the balancing act out of order. Charlie never knows what the truth is, but she knows she shouldn't look for it. Not in this line of work, and especially not with a demon.
"I dragged you! You drove me around for ages before you were any use. I'm not your pet Charlie- I needed information not some human to take care of," Meg's words are defensive. She fiddles with the keys in her hand. Meg isn't supposed to stay, not this long. She doesn't have time to stray from her orders.
"You never complained," Charlie states, looking away from Meg. She can't let the words affect her.
"It's all been a waste of time, I have things to do."
"Like what?" Charlie asks as Meg heads away from her.
"None of your business."
"That's not good enough," Charlie demands more than that. Meg has been the closest thing to a full time friend since she resurfaced. Charlie can't place if it's the thought of Meg leaving that upsets her or if the idea of being alone again scares her.
"You're not seriously looking for the truth-I thought you were good at this," Meg mocks her as she heads closer to the car. She is not looking at Charlie. She could leave Charlie in this parking lot if she wants to.
Charlie isn't sure if she can handle that. "That's my car."
"Yea, and right now you’re scared I'm stealing it because demons are pure evil.” Meg tosses the keys in Charlie's direction.
"I'm not like that."
"It doesn't matter, Toto, important business," Meg says, but she doesn't look at Charlie when she speaks. They are frozen in the break for a few seconds.
Charlie fades out of herself, for a moment. She looks at the families at the concession stands, at the cars pulling in from the highway. She reminds herself to breathe. To close her eyes, and to breathe. She has to take it all in before it overwhelms her.
Charlie heads to her car as Meg stands still, in the moment, "Will you come back," Charlie asks as she pulls on the door handle.
"I-" Meg's vessel disappears into the wind as she starts to speak.
Charlie is alone in the parking lot now. She sits in her car for a moment. She needs to finish her case, that's what’s important. She can't help Meg kill Crowley, even if Crowley has been nothing but a jerk. Charlie isn't going to make a habit of interfering with demon politics, even if Meg is on the Winchester's side.
She heads for Dean's motel room; she clings to the alarming cautiousness of the gps' voice. She fades into her adventure.
The Impala signals the end of her journey. It sits proud in the parking lot, clear from a mile away. The thick dirt conceals its usual shine as Charlie gets closer. It cakes the wheels, and a deep key marks mare its former beauty.
“Don’t talk about the car,” Charlie reminds herself as she heads to the motel room number.
The noise is the first thing she hears, a crash of concrete follows a blast; Charlie rushes to the doorway with a firm grasp on her gun. She leans against the wall, struggling to regulate her breathing before she storms in. She gives up, heading in with her gun drawn.
A woman pushes Dean against a wall, she has no weapons but she has nearly succeeded in defeating Dean Winchester. Sam is pinned beside the wall with a single hand. “Dean don’t you realize? I’m stronger, faster, I’m just better than you in every way, and I’m going to kill you- or maybe I’ll play with Sam first? Oh I’ll definitely save him for later, wouldn’t want you getting in the way,” Her words are soft in Dean’s ear.
“Stop you monster lady,” Charlie shouts, shooting a single bullet in the woman’s arm.
Abaddon doesn’t even turn from Dean, she stares into Dean’s eyes; turning into air as he plunges a corrupted blade into her direction . She grabs Charlie from behind, pulling Charlie’s head up to see her. “Is this one yours Dean? I could take her too,” Abaddon cackles, releasing her grasp on Charlie as she sends her into the parking lot.
“Fuck you,” Dean winces as he tries to get up without the pressure of the wall.
“Meg,” Abaddon calls, and Meg appears, “Can you handle her?” Abaddon looks to her servant, expecting absolute loyalty, as she maintains her hold on Dean.
Charlie maintains her aim on Abaddon, but she doesn’t dare to make eye contact with Meg. Charlie is supposed to be a hunter, a woman of letters, but she can’t tell enemy from ally.
“She’s weak just-“
“So it will be easy then,” Abaddon smiles with the threat of death behind her lips. She tosses Charlie out of the motel room and into the parking lot with ease.
Charlie can’t find solid ground, her hands grasp for it on the gravel but everything is blood, pebbles and throbbing sensations as she crawls. She can taste the iron in her mouth, and her legs don’t move like she wants them to. She can see Meg’s familiar figure, but she can’t move fast enough. “Go away,”
Charlie begs, her voice is low and quakes as she tries to crawl away.
“Just let me explain,” Meg stands over her, her voice is calm in the noise of the fight.
“Dean is your friend! Sam is your friend! I thought I was your - your friend!” Charlie still has her gun but her vision is too blurred to know exactly where Meg is.
“How do you think I’m alive? What, did you think God brought me back?,” She takes a breath, and Meg leans down next to Charlie, placing her hand on her jaw. “Do you trust me?”
The softness of the backseat haunts her, it fills her with memories and sensations she doesn’t want. Charlie can make out Meg disappearing as a blaring light comes from the motel room. “Dean,” Charlie whispers, her words like prayers. Every part of her aches as she leans against the door to stumble across the parking lot. Her entire body aches, the blood in her mouth spills from the corner of her lips.
“Dean,” Her voice cracks as she screams. The tension is under her skin and all she can think about is that her family is dead. Again. Her body shakes as she makes her way to the door, fighting the pressure in her throat.
“Why are you so stubborn,” The voice is faint behind her as she collapses on the parking lot pavement. Everything is covered in a blur of movement; all she can see is the clouds above her head as the rest of her body is carried.
The sensitive wounds are wrapped in dressing and bruises are treated with the hotel ice machine. Charlie is delirious but she fights to keep herself awake, to discover who she is with. Motel sheets never felt as soft as Charlie nestles in the blankets. The last image she sees before she succumbs to sleep is distinct blonde hair before they disappear, and then Charlie is alone.
She can hear her name being called in the distance, it pulls her to consciousness. The voice is deep and desperate, but her voice is quiet and her throat is dry, every word she says goes unheard. “Dean,” Charlie shouts as loud as her voice will let her, avoiding even the slightest motion to keep her head from throbbing. Her feet are sore as she stumbles to the door, struggling to find balance. Her world is caught in a haze of confusion.
“Dean,” Her voice is louder now, but it is hard to make Dean out in the blaring Sun. She squints enough to make him out in the distance, waving her arms in a desperate attempt to get her attention.
“Charlie,” Dean calls, he sprints without hesitation, with Castiel following close behind.
There is an uproar of emotion, but no words to contain it. They look each other over, inspecting for serious injuries or abnormalities. Each person notes the absences of the group. No Sam. No Meg.
“Is Sam-,” Charlie starts, but the collapse of Dean’s entire body is enough to tell that Sam is not safe.
“Abaddon took him, we thought you had the same fate,” Castiel explains, and Dean is filled with anger, but he doesn’t add much to the conversation. He does curse under his breath, though.
“No I woke up in a motel room-I think Meg might have fixed me up,” Charlie admits, though it sounds weird even to her.
“She’s working with Abaddon now. We can’t trust her,” Dean says.
“But she can lead us to Abaddon, and then to Sam,” Charlie pleads - she tries to convince herself that it’s not selfish, but she needs answers, some sort of justification. She refuses to admit that Meg tricked her for information, that all it was only ever a scheme to get something out of her.
“I don’t know how you two got together in the first place but Meg isn’t the most trustworthy person to begin with. All demons ever do is lie, cheat and fuck everyone over,” Dean wants to kill everyone who even associates themselves with monsters, especially monsters who kidnap and hurt his little brother. He is fuming, every ounce of pure anger radiates off of him. Castiel’s hand is firm on his shoulder, as if it’s a reminder of reality or something Charlie is unaware of.
“We will look for Sam, and you can follow Meg,” Castiel says, offering his support.
“Very stoic Dean, I see why you like him so much,” Charlie jokes, offering some sort of relief for Dean.
“At least the people I sleep with don’t try to kill me,” Dean sneers, but then Cas raises his eyebrow and Dean coughs, nervously. “Ok at least the people I sleep with don’t always try to kill me.”
Charlie can’t help but smile knowing that Dean isn’t going to destroy himself without a fight [E3] . She heads to her car, taking in the emptiness of it all.
Finding Meg won’t be hard, figuring out what to say is the difficult part. Charlie tries to calm the agitation that shakes her core, but the nagging feeling that Meg isn’t who she pretended to be leaves her overwhelmed.