You aren’t just a demon, you are one of my children.
And you will always be the only father to me that matters.
The news was surprising to Sherlock, who really had no idea what Torchwood - or Touchwood, as Meg had so drunkenly called it - did though the idea of them controlling the cameras was a bit off-putting. Still, there wasn’t really anything they could do about it now other than Meg’s brilliant idea of ‘giving them a show’, probably one that they would never forget. “That does sound like fun,” he agreed with a laugh, glad that they didn’t really have any laws against public indecency in place or they would be getting in a major amount of trouble.
He stared at the demon for a moment, deep in thought at the thought of the three of them actually going through with skinny dipping. They were grown adults, though at the time, it didn’t matter much - drinking would dull that sort of roadblock anyway. “Then we should save it for a rain check,” the detective offered, then burst into a fit of giggles at the irony of it, being that they were already in the midst of a rain storm that didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon.
Finishing off whatever he could that was in reach, Sherlock returned the grin, springing up off of the seat with renewed vigor and grabbing Meg’s hand. “Then let’s go!” he ordered, practically pulling the pair out of the bar and out into the rain again, not even considering the fact that they had nothing to vandalize the town’s hall or the possibility that it might simply wash off with the rain. Those factors weren’t important, but that they were having a good time was even moreso.
Meg giggled along with Sherlock almost as soon as he said the unintentional pun, but also because the thought of the three of them skinny dipping in the town’s lake was far too delinquent for them to stoop down too. Though, Meg liked to imagine, that with the three together, anything was absolutely possible. Plus, seeing the detective in a lake with two women completely naked would have certainly been a sight for Meg to have to see. Mentally, she tried to stick that thought in hopes that it wouldn’t disappear come morning.
When Sherlock took her hand and then practically dragged the two into the rain, Meg did everything she could to keep up. Running the short run to town hall, the demon halted in front of the doors causing the detective to stop with her. Subconsciously glancing to her right, Meg observed the sheriff’s station. Staring up at the second floor, she wondered if her girlfriend was awake and even moreso, okay. Blinking away those thoughts, Meg gripped Sherlock’s hand even tighter before standing and dumbly staring at the seemingly ominous building before them.
"Uh… Sherly… question." Swaying lightly back and forth due to the alcohol in her system, Meg let her head droop down as she dramatically turned to look at the man. "Did… Did we bring anything to you know…" With her free hand she rolled her wrist towards the building, gesturing at it to show emphasis, "You know actually write…. on…. it???" Tilting her head as far as she could before she fell over, Meg stared at her best friend in confusion before busting out into a fit of giggles. "We suck at preparing things, don’t we?"
Well, that’s good. You know, and I totally hate to dampen your mood and all, but those anons? They sucked, and yeah I’m just one of your demons and all, but I’m really sorry.
All is just swell. Woke up in the bank though, which was the worst of all of this. I’m back at the station now.
What about you Megan? Are you okay?
Yeah, talk about awkward family moments.
Wow, ‘Megan’. No one usually calls me that. You sure you’re alright?
Yes? No? Yes. Good.
And to that anon, fuck you.
Yeah, the brain game is over for now. You okay?
"I know I did!" Dean said, exasperated and furious that Jack and his crew had somehow meddled with his mind again. "I was practically ten years younger last week. I don’t know how; you had to of forgotten something too. I know it’s not just me. It happened to Lucifer, Rose, Jo, Sam, Ruby, the friggin list goes on." The hunter took a breather. Now wasn’t the time to get wound up.
With a pained expression, Dean closed his eyes and felt his heart sink to just above his stomach. “Meg,” He looked at her, wanted to grab her hand, offer her some form of comfort, a promise that he wouldn’t forget anything else anymore but her barrier was up. Besides, Dean didn’t like making promises he knew he couldn’t keep. “I’m sorry.” He said again, hoping that this time she wouldn’t brush it off. “I don’t know what else to say. I can’t promise I won’t forget anymore because of that stupid group your girlfriend is in loves to make me loopy.” Now it was Dean’s turn to slump back and cross his arms. “And don’t even give me any ‘How do you know it was them?’ shit.” He pointed his index finger against the table for emphasis. “The shit Jack gave me in the hospital to make me forget? The rain did the same thing. That’s what? Twice the dose in a month?” The hunter crossed his arms again. “That’s probably why I reverted back so far.”
Meg looked away and grew quiet. “I…” She paused and inhaled sharply before closing her eyes and shaking her head. Turning slowly back to look at her ex-husband. “I did, but I only forgot my relationship with Gwen.” Re-going through the list of names Dean gave her, Meg nodded slowly. Still keeping her eyes on him, the demon realized that he was suffering far worse than what he led on.
Meg continued to stare over at him in silence. Hearing the hunter say he was sorry for the second time made her soften up more than she normally would have. Dean Winchester wasn’t one to normally apologize, and having him say it a multitude of times was…concerning to say the least.
But before Meg could fully accept his apology, he had to throw in some choice words about Gwen and Torchwood. Sitting up, the demon raised a brow and frowned over at him. “What Torchwood decides to do is none of my business. I don’t ask Gwen to tell me anything that they do. But, saying that,” Meg slumped her shoulders and nodded, “I also don’t entirely put all my chicken’s in Jack’s basket either,”
But then when Dean said that they had been the cause of his early geriatric symptoms, Meg felt a slight anger rise through her spine. “Wait, are you saying they fucking drugged you? What? Why the fuck did the-What gave them a right?” Meg held up both hands and waved them around in confusion before finally stopping and giving him a concerned and threatened look.
Her door jostled shut as Dean let go of the handle; this wasn’t a conversation for prying eyes and curious ears. He stood in the center of the bakery for a few seconds until finally working up the nerve to sit in the chair in front of her. Normally in a situation like this he’d roll his eyes and get up to leave, but there was nothing normal about what had happened and who he’d forgotten. Instead, the hunter set his eyes straight on hers and crossed his arms.
There were too many angles that Dean could come at this, and he wasn’t sure which one was the right one or if there even was a right one. Unclenching his jaw, Dean let out a breath of air before saying the two words he hated saying the most: “I’m sorry.” The hunter knew he should explain himself, he just didn’t know how. “I don’t know how out of all the shit in my head, the Torchwood screw up,” he said harshly, “made me forget about her, but I did.” Dean swallowed and cleared his throat. “I said some really messed up fucking things that no one deserved to hear but I was convinced you were the old Meg. The one who only wanted to kill and climb the ladder of Hell.”
Meg looked away from his as he uttered out an apology. As much as she wanted to hear it, she wasn’t ready to face it. Raising both brows, and tightening her jaw, the demon quickly looked back at him and frowned as he spoke about Eva. It almost felt like an atrocity for the hunter to speak about their daughter after he’d forgotten her.
Keeping her voice even and flat, Meg matched his gaze and neutralized her facial expression. “Yeah, I know. Trust me. You even brought the demon knife with you and threatened me with it. But you know what? I can forgive all of that, I just…” Meg shut her eyes tightly and let out a breath of air she’d been holding in.
"The most offending thing is that you forgot her, and even when I calmly, I might add, tried to explain to you, you didn’t even have the respect to acknowledge that she was my daughter too." Shaking her head, Meg shrugged and slumped further in her chair. "So I gave up explaining to you about her, even to the point of lying and saying she wasn’t important." Crossing her arms over her chest, Meg shrugged once more. "But fine, apology accepted. I know it wasn’t you, it was the rain or whatever." She stated bitterly, knowing that she was being unfair.
The past month had been a blur for the hunter to say the least. Repeated gaps in time were a reoccurring theme which he desperately wanted to break the pattern of. It was a relief to wake up remembering years that had slipped from his memory banks, but even more of a relief knowing he wasn’t about to get torn to shreds by hellhounds in the next few days. Slightly embarrassed that he’d gone to Lucifer for help, Dean figured it would be best to put some space between him and Jo when he remembered what he and Rose had done…or started to anyways.
His best thinking was usually done in the heat of the moment, behind the wheel of his car, or with a spatula in one hand and a scrape in the other. Music played in the background as the day progressed and memories began to trickle in from the second time he’d been drugged. Dean was struggling with organizing what had happened when, when suddenly a loud loud bang from the freezer thrust him back into the forest with Meg:
“If you just wanted to get my attention there are better ways to do it than bringing me in the middle of god knows where to look at thing of dirt.”
Overcome with anger that he had so easily forgotten and that this was yet again Torchwood’s fault, regardless of what Jack said, Dean slammed his appliances off, flipped the Open to Closed, and locked the door behind him.
Walking into the bakery brought in too many bittersweet memories, mainly of the two of them fighting. Nothing good ever came of him and Meg being in such tight quarters. “We gotta talk.” He said gruffly.
Meg had nearly finished sweeping the floor when she heard the familiar sound of boots on tile. Having her back to him initially, Meg looked up and huffed before putting on a smile and turning to face him. “Oh you bet we do.” She wasn’t trying to be malicious or cruel, but she was still deeply upset and generally hurt.
Setting her broom down, Meg crossed her arms over her chest and nodded towards a table and chairs before seating herself. “So, since you spoke first, you get to go first.” Raising a brow, the demon leaned back in her seat and waited. “Oh and since I should be nice, would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, hot water?” She deadpanned before tightening her lips and tilting her head.
Blinking a few times, she forced herself to relax, realizing that he probably did remember now just like Sherlock had. Sighing, Meg looked down at the table and bit her bottom lip. “Okay sorry, I’ll be on better behavior, what do you want to talk about?”