Chapter Text
All American Apple
Meg hated Dean Winchester. Not in the you’re an asshole whom has made a point to garner my anger way, but in the Castiel has reduced his petting sessions by sixty-three percent and the how am I supposed to sleep when the bed is always rocking way. Meg didn’t want Dean dead, but she did want him to take a long, one way trip to a distant nowhere. Until then, she’d sit on the counter, much to Dean’s chagrin, and shake until she was sure that a healthy layer of fur had blanketed the kitchen.
On one particularly odd human holiday, her beloved owner and his less-than-desirable partner had shoved her into a plastic crate. She had traveled by car before, usually in the lap of Castiel or left to wander the back seat. She was good about travel. When Dean had brought home the brand new travel crate, Meg was certain that Dean had finally convinced Castiel to get her put down. Like hell was she going down without a fight.
Meg got four long gashes in Dean’s arm before they managed to shut the gate on her. Lying there, she licked his blood off of her paws and knew that it would have to be enough.
For now.
“She fuckin’ clawed me!”
“I told you she wouldn’t like the crate. She’s never needed a crate before.”
“She is not getting her fur all over the Impala.”
Meg made a point, when she was in the car, to stand at the gate and scratch herself like her life depended on it.
May the angels protect you
Trouble neglect you
And heaven accept you
When it’s time to go home
Meg imagined that a drive to one’s death would feel unreasonably long, but after the sun began to set and cast the rumbling car in pink, she knew that she must have got it wrong. It was nice to know that she wasn’t due to die that day, but still, Meg would have liked to know where it was that she was going.
The last time she had been on such a long trip had been before Dean was in the picture. She had been staying with Gabriel for a month, and just about when she’d decided that her stupid owner had abandoned her, he came home.
She ignored him, rightfully so, for six whole hours. Even when he tempted her with toys and scrupulous apologies, she turned away. It wasn’t until Castiel had given up hope that she returned to his side, satisfied with his punishment. She wouldn’t have forgiven him so easily had she known that only a week later he would pack up what little he owned, break his lease, and shove her in the car to meet Dean.
Dean wasn’t the worst human in the world. She had seen documentaries of dictators and murderers on the television before, but he wouldn’t let her on the table or eat from Castiel’s plate the way she would at home. In fact, she stopped getting leftovers almost altogether, save for the times when her traitorous owner would sneak her chunks of chicken when Dean wasn’t looking.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, Dean then insisted that her new litter box have a lid. No one wanted to crawl into a hole to relieve themselves in the dark, not to mention how claustrophobic it made her feel. At least Stalin had never tried to control her eating or bathroom habits.
Meg rolled as much as she could in her crate to stave off boredom, but eventually resorted to singing. She sang for what felt like hours.
“If she doesn’t shut up soon, I’m going to drive off a cliff.”
“There aren’t any cliffs, Dean. It’s been flat for six hours and it will continue to be flat. Nothing but stupid flat, flat, flat.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re getting prairie fever.”
“Drive faster, Dean.”
May your tears come from laughing
You find friends worth having
With every year passing
They mean more than gold
Meg hated Kansas. There were too many old cars and Castiel had let her roam freely while he and many other strange humans cooked dinner in a blazing, metal pit. She wanted to teach him a lesson for not keeping an eye on her, to wander off until he was a weeping mess over her disappearance. Meg, however, could not find the effort. Castiel’s training would have to wait.
It didn’t take long to figure out that the strangers were associates of Dean, and she was not surprised. They all smelled like car grease. Meg watched Dean embrace his brother, Sam, and share an uncomfortable handshake with Ruby, and she was certain she’d get everyone’s names straight by the end of the night.
Sam tried to pet her, and she might have let him had she not been so determined to be a brat. For Dean’s sake, of course.
“Don’t even bother with that one,” Dean said, grimacing at her as she strutted away. “She’s not very friendly.”
“Dean is wrong. Meg was very friendly before I moved in with him.”
Sam laughed.
“Wow, Dean. You’re the only person I know who can get on the wrong side of a cat.”
Meg decided that Sam wasn’t as awful as his brother, but she still did not let him pet her.
Well I have to be honest
As much as I want it
I’m not gonna promise
The cold winds won’t blow
So when hard times have found you
And your fears surround you
Wrap my love around you
You’re never alone
It could have been worse, but it seemed that not all of Dean’s friends were as against feeding Meg scraps from their plates as he was. The scruffy one with the baseball cap especially. Whenever no one was looking, he’d slip her entire slivers of brisket. Bobby, so she learned, was a softie.
The entire yard smelled of beef and sweet apple cider. There was not a drop of liquor on the premises. Even Dean was dry. Beside him, a man with salt and pepper hair and old, tired eyes, patted his shoulder and drank cider as well.
Meg thought it looked terribly boring.
“Don’t you ever get sick of pie?” Ruby asked, sidling up alongside Dean and who Meg guessed must be his father. They had the same jaw line, but the similarities ended there.
“Are you kidding?” Dean said, “Pie is the solution to everything.”
“I wouldn’t say everything,” Castiel said, appearing beside them.
“Yes, everything! Someone dies – I’m sorry, here is a three berry pie to help ease your pain. It’s someone’s birthday – Happy Birthday, have a lemon meringue.” Dean’s hands were held up, as if he were trying to capture the grand scheme of things. “Marriage – Chocolate pudding pie. Divorice – Still chocolate pudding pie. Graduation – Boston crème.”
“He’s very passionate about his pie,” Castiel said, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. The father looked away, but said nothing. Meg wasn’t sure if she liked him, if for no other reason than that he hadn’t said more than two words to Castiel since their arrival.
Sam arrived with two plates, one of which he handed Ruby. She took a large bite and hummed.
“It’s apple,” she said.
“Of course it’s apple. It’s the fourth of July,” Dean said.
“You can’t get much more American than apple. Trust me, I tried,” Castiel said.
“You should have seen it!” Dean wrapped his arm around Castiel’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “He tried to make a red, white, and blue pie.”
“It was going well until I got to white.”
“He tried using grapes.”
“A mistake on my part, that I remember asking you not to mention.”
“And then he finally agreed to go with apple, like I had been telling him to since the beginning.”
The group laughed, and the father had somehow slipped away without Meg noticing.
All American Apple
Slice of Apple Pie, a la mode.
What’s that? You’re not American?
Don’t be silly, everyone’s American when they’re eating apple pie, whether you like it or not. 3.99
It wasn’t that Meg was antisocial. She liked to think of herself as a willing participant to praise and adoration. Unfortunately, the mass of people wanted very little to do with her. Instead, they sent rockets hurdling into the air to explode in a fountain of blistering color. It was beautiful, but also incredibly loud.
The four women, Ruby, Jo, Ellen, and Jody, all stood huddled together by the metal fold out table that held the food. On it was a picture of another woman, blonde, with eyes strikingly similar to Dean’s. They all looked to be cowering from the men who seemed determined to set everything on fire. Showers of gold and red and blue and white filled the sky. A cacophony of whistles erupted as they soared.
The black sky was painted, and Dean and Sam and Castiel spun like children in the snow, and soon, Ruby joined them.
“Careful, Ruby. I might accidentally set your hair on fire,” Dean said.
“I dare you.”
Meg watched from beneath the drying, old deck. Her vast, brown eyes glittered with whispering gold sparks. Together, the humans danced in the grandeur, like a brilliant fall of rain brushing against their skin.
Everyone was set aglow.
My love will follow you
Stay with you
Baby you’re
Never alone
