Chapter Text
Meg had only known hardship since the day she had the misfortune of being born into this hellscape of a world.
Most of those days since had been spent watching her parents scrounge for food and shelter during harsh winters and struggle for water and shade during brutal summers, providing in whatever way they could for her and her older brother, Tom.
Then, one cold winter’s day, her father went out to forage for food buried under the snow and didn’t come home. The remaining three found his corpse being ravaged by carrion birds two days later.
The next winter, her mother went out to collect firewood. Meg and Tom found her stabbed to death and half the supply of firewood taken.
The next winter, Tom disappeared and, like Father, never came home. But Meg never found his body, either. That was when she knew she had to blow away from this tent community that called itself a town, and blow away fast, somewhere no one could find her and she would never go hungry or cold again.
She was ten years old.
For the most part, she managed that way, ditching her surname (though she would always remember that the Masters family had never raised quitters) and wandering from village to village. She’d met some kind people, and more not so kind people. But not even the kindest were enough to make her want to stay. And even the kindest seemed to be in it for their own purposes.
And that was just how the world was. People were fair-weather friends at best, and she couldn’t exactly blame them. It was a hard world. Why not do for yourself what you can to survive? Friends were only things to be lost anyway, as she had learned from watching her family die one by one until only she was left. What good had that done her?
Of course, all of that was fifteen years ago. She’d grown since then. Why worry about things she couldn’t change?
The ground was hard beneath Meg’s feet as she wandered into what remained of what appeared to be a small railroad town called Stull Junction. She only guessed it was a railroad town anyway, thanks to what remained of tracks that crossed in front of the main street.
This place wasn’t much different from the other towns she had passed through in her fifteen years wandering from place to place. There were still shops here, though the streets were empty of people. She wondered if they were really all gone, or if they were all hiding in their shelters, despite the fact that the weather was actually relatively mild today compared to the howling wind that seemed to have followed at her heels yesterday.
Or maybe it was because night was slowly beginning to fall. Perhaps there were some of those not so nice folks in this place, too, and that was what everyone was hiding from. It wouldn’t be the first time Meg had dealt with that kind.
She grimaced to herself as her feet stung with every step and her back ached every time she turned to get a better feel of her surroundings. She would have to find a place to sit or lie down for the night soon. Maybe there would be somebody kind enough to let her use their bed for a small price, give her some dinner, even. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, a crust of bread and some cheese she’d been lucky enough to fight for, and her stomach was beginning to groan its protests.
Noise to her right caught her attention and made her pause. Looking up to read the sign on the building she had almost passed up, she saw that it was simply called Gabriel’s. Figuring it couldn’t hurt—if there were people in here, then surely they were here for a reason—she pushed open the door and stepped inside. Maybe somebody here would have a match for the candle she’d scooped up last night.
Right away she was assaulted with savory smells of freshly cooked meats and beer flowing freely. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before, but she knew it from the books she’d read of what the world was like before the weather turned and abandoned spring and fall in its wake. How do they have such wonderful-smelling things?
“Howdy!” a voice in her ear said, and she nearly jumped, ready to fight whoever it was, but she quickly relaxed just a bit when she saw it was merely a somewhat diminutive man in a brown suit, with longish hair and eyes like the whiskey she could smell from the table nearest to her. “Haven’t seen you around. New in town?”
“Could say that,” she muttered, pulling her threadbare coat tighter around her slight frame. Remember what you came here for. “You got a match?”
The man whipped one right out of his jacket pocket and handed it over; Meg snatched it and quickly lit up her candle.
“You know,” he said, and she had no idea why he was continuing to converse with her (maybe he was just friendly? Yeah, right), “I can do you one better than a match.”
“Yeah?” She raised a brow at him, challenging. “What’s that?”
“A table,” he said, pointing to an empty one she hadn’t noticed upon first walking in. “And a hot meal on me. You look like you haven’t eaten in a minute.”
Understatement. “What’s the catch?” she asked.
“No catch,” he said, and she shook her head. Who even was this man? “Name’s Gabriel,” he said, as if in answer to her question.
Oh. Well, that explained a lot. He owned the joint.
And it was warm in here and she was starving…if he turned out to be lying, she could just dine and ditch and hit the road again, find somewhere to sleep.
“Sure,” she said. “Okay.”
And she carried her candle down to the table, taking care that it didn’t blow out.
No sooner had she sat down did Gabriel return to her, bearing a tray full of the most delicious cuts and vegetables Meg had ever laid eyes on, though to be fair the bar wasn’t exactly set very high. It still made her mouth water and her eyes widen. She didn’t even remember to thank him, instead immediately digging in.
Gods, who cooked this? Obviously the cook, but this kind of food simply didn’t exist anymore. The poor soil that came from the weather turning had made sure of that, or so the stories went.
Catch or no catch, she thought, this was worth it.
Castiel had never seen anyone more beautiful.
Granted, he didn’t tend to take too much notice of other people in general. Of course he liked everyone who frequented the tavern, just as they liked him and his music. But the dark-haired girl with equally dark eyes who had just walked in made his entire system go haywire, and it was as if the only things that existed in this moment were him and her, and the former was only barely.
He had to make something for her, he decided at once. She seemed so…lonely. And he could understand that. He, too, had been alone for much of his life, other than Gabriel’s company. Even now he was what he’d heard others call “alone in a crowd.” Though he’d been very lucky to end up here, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything, he also knew that look of trepidation when around other people that was as clear on this girl’s face as it would be if it had been stamped on her forehead.
There had to be something that he could do to remedy that, even if he couldn’t quite understand the compulsion he felt to do so. All he knew was that when he felt the urge to make any kind of art for any reason, he had to follow through. Gabriel always said that it was because his mother had been a muse, and it was simply in Castiel’s nature to want to make beautiful things. Castiel didn’t remember enough about his mother to deduce whether that was actually correct, but he was satisfied in taking Gabriel’s word for it.
Speaking of his guardian, Castiel didn’t realize just how intently he had been twisting this scrap of paper into a flower with his deft fingers until he felt Gabriel gently tap him on the shoulder. His face burned red hot, and he dropped his gaze from Gabriel’s face to the floor, but that didn’t keep Gabriel from figuring out exactly what was going on. Castiel shouldn’t have expected anything different. He was, after all, a messenger god and communicator.
“Sorry,” Castiel mumbled, putting down the flower and immediately reaching for something else to do with his hands, settling on polishing a glass that didn’t really need polishing.
“No need to apologize. Just couldn’t help but notice you mooning,” Gabriel said. “You’re lucky the bar’s mostly cleared out for now. But I also couldn’t help but wonder something.” He propped up his elbow on the bar top. “She is pretty. And I’ve never seen you actually notice that in a girl. Or anybody, for that matter. So… You wanna talk to her?”
Castiel nodded. “Yes…”
Gabriel gestured to the girl sitting alone at the table. “Well, go on, then. But Cas…”
“Yes?” Castiel was already making his way out from behind the bar, paper flower clutched tightly in his hand. It hadn’t occurred to him that Gabriel would have anything else to say on the matter, and frankly, he was getting a tiny bit impatient, though he tried not to let it show. Why couldn’t he just go and talk to the girl, like Gabriel had just encouraged him to?
A fond shake of the head was the initial response. Then Gabriel said, “Don’t come on too strong.”
Oh. Yes. That was important.
Meg was sure this was the meal that she would dream about when she fell asleep at night for years to come. Every bite had been an overload of flavor, kicking her brain into overdrive, giving her every nuance of happiness that she thought she had forgotten long ago. What was in this stuff? Ambrosia? That was impossible, unless, of course, the tavern had an in with a god.
But everyone knew the gods had left the meager mortals of this world behind.
Downing her second glass of water and moving on to the beer which gave her a curiously pleasant, warm, tingly sensation in her belly when it landed, she took a good look around the room. Everyone here did seem to be how she’d felt when eating this food—truly happy. How on earth could that be, when the world outside had gone to such complete shit?
Well, having tasted this, she guessed she could see how. Gabriel’s, you are a real blessing, she thought, then shook her head with a wry laugh under her breath.
Glancing around once again, something shiny caught her eye. Secured to a metal stand just beside the bar (that had been the shiny thing) was a guitar. If it hadn’t been for that stand, she wouldn’t have even noticed it. The wood was stained in ebony black all over, apart from the very center of the body, which faded into a gradient of a brilliant, cyan blue. She had to admit, she was impressed. The food was one thing, but how had this place gotten a hold of that? And who around here even played it?
The sound of footsteps coming her way took her out of her ruminations over the guitar. She half expected to see Gabriel striding over to see how she had enjoyed her meal, perhaps to reassure her yet again that there was no catch to this. Instead, the man—no, the boy, for he couldn’t be much older than her—headed her way was a good deal taller. An apron covered his worn black pants and equally tired-looking white button-up which he wore rolled up to his elbows, and she realized he worked here.
Then she raised her gaze to his face. He had a sunned complexion, and his youthful features were topped off with a head of messy, dark hair. It was his eyes that really grabbed her, though, stormy blue and positively penetrating. He was cute. No, scratch that; he was gorgeous.
Maybe she could chat this guy up, she thought. If he worked here, she could work her charms on him, maybe get herself a place to stay for the night.
All of that was thrown right out of her mind the instant he held up what looked like a lovingly crafted paper flower and opened his mouth; his voice would have been pretty sexy if it weren’t for the four little words he uttered.
“Come home with me.”