Meg knew that she was living an unfortunate situation. On the run from Lucifer and Crowley, a woman, and a demon. Could it get any worse?

Maybe. It wasn't all bad, really.

She had you. Sweet, perfect, lovely you.

Since you were a Winchester, she had met you through Sam and Dean, and had been infatuated ever since. She adored you, even if she would deny it to whoever asked. You were like her angel.

Hence, why she was laying with you on some random motel couch. The end of the world was allegedly tomorrow, so she was spending it with the person she loved most.

"You made me soft," She mumbled into your collarbone, her eyes fluttering shut. "A Winchester made me soft," She scoffed. "What are y'doin' t'me, sweets?"