Short Stories and Oneshots

As Above, So Below - Part 7

Sam had to admit, if only to himself, that he was becoming at least a little annoyed with Cas' pacing and randomly flitting off for something or another (probably to go fly laps around the planet or something – that counted as pacing didn't it?) Cas had panicked when Heaven had gotten ahold of Dean. Freaking out to the point where Lucifer had knocked him out and stashed him in one of those little pocket dimensions that Gabriel loved using.

He'd refused to let him out until he had gotten ahold of himself. A task that was not as easy as it might have once been. The angels who had all taken a bite from the apple were still learning the joys of the certain level of mental instability that the knowledge seemed to bring with it. Either that or knowing where that line really lay would blow anyone's cool. They'd get it figured out eventually.

The look on Cas' face when he had realized Dean had reappeared without Michael and was apparently just fine and had talked the archangel into eating an apple himself had really been something else. A look of such frustrated, exhausted, exasperation that Sam knew on anyone else it would have heralded at the least a good natured attempted strangling. Honestly Dean was just talented at bringing out those sorts of emotions in everyone he came across. You either loved him or hated him, and if you were really lucky – both.

Cas had been a little less forgiving when Dean had explained his deal with Michael. This, Sam could understand. After everything and saying no at every turn, Dean goes and does this? Sam shot a look at said angel. Cas had stopped his pacing abruptly and was staring out the back window. A brilliant light shone in through the window for a moment before fading away. Cas was certainly glaring now.

"Was that Michael?" Sam asked after a moment. Cas didn't look away from the window.

"Yes." He answered harshly, expression flat. Ouch, Sam thought. Dean's angel certainly wasn't taking this entire situation well at all.

"Well, let's hope this conversation goes well." Sam sighed, looking back at his book but not really focusing on the words.

~

Dean had wondered what it would be like. To say Yes to Michael. He remembered what Jimmy had said. Comparing it to being strapped to a comet. Dean was beginning to think that Jimmy shouldn't be allowed to use metaphors. Clearly he didn't know how they worked.

All he could see was brilliant white light tinged with gold. But it didn't hurt in the slightest, it was actually pretty damn nice. It wasn't nearly as bad as he'd thought it was going to be, but he couldn't see a damned thing beyond the white gold light. "You're awake." Dean flinched in surprise at Michael's voice. Okay wow, so that was what an angel actually sounded like? Huh, when the heck had he learned Enochian too? Because that sure as hell hadn't been English. "Dean?" Michael's voice had taken on an amused lilt.

"This is weird." Dean answered with a sort of mental shrug.

"It is." Michael agreed thoughtfully. "This is far different than any temporary vessel I have ever taken." The light shifted around him a bit, tightening its grip on him.

"Different how?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"No matter how well a vessel fits me, it should still feel, somewhat wrong, as it is not truly me. But this is different. This body is no more uncomfortable for my Grace than it would be for your own soul." Well that was mildly unsettling, Dean thought. Wondering if Michael was going to be willing to leave when this was all over, if not – well, he'd had a good run of it. If this stunt stopped the apocalypse, he could call it a job well done. It wasn't like he'd ever expected to live very long; hunters never did.

Michael at least, found that thought rather unsettling, he knew that Dean would likely never trust him. His saying Yes had in no way been a matter of trust. At least, not trust in him. Trust perhaps in chance, but not in him. That Dean considered remaining his vessel as tantamount to death was...painful. That he had become such a creature that his true vessel would think of it in such a way...well – it made him think that perhaps Father had indeed had a good reason for leaving.