Lazarus Falling [Supernatural]

Chapter Six - The Swan's Lament

Lucifer stood in the empty cemetery as the noonday light, obscured by thick clouds, cast the world in weak illumination.  In that moment, he was hyper-aware of everything: the dry yellow grass crunching beneath his vessel's boots, the old gravestones carved with indecipherable names and dates, the stillness of the wind that he knew always came before a storm.  That meant Michael was close.

            Sam was still safely tucked away in the corner of his own mind, despite numerous attempts to regain control of his body.  Lucifer was simply too strong.  Sam had believed that perhaps, with a bit of luck, he could do this all on his own, but he couldn't.  He needed help, and even with that, the outcome would still be uncertain.

            But no help was coming.  His hunter allies were dead, Dean was still trapped in Hell, and the angels actually wanted this fight to happen.  There was no one to turn to.

            The Apocalypse would likely commence, but that didn't mean Sam wouldn't try to stop it.

            Miles away, Dean was wondering why he had been so foolish as to let Michael into his head.  Now that he could see the archangel's thoughts, he realized how easily Michael had played him.  Dean had been weak and malleable from hundreds of years in Hell, and Michael had taken full advantage of Dean's vulnerability.  Perhaps if Dean had been in Hell for less time, or had been greeted with a friendlier face upon his return, he wouldn't have given into temptation.

            Michel seemed to enjoy flaunting his success at Dean, showing him several images of the ruined world the coming battles would create.  The hunter made a noise not unlike a snarl as he saw what would be the outcome of his choice.

            Damn angel with your damn righteousness.  When I get you out of my head, I'm gonna friggin' kill you!  Dean shouted the words into the depths of Michael's consciousness, his anger rising.

            Try, by all means, but you won't succeed.  Michael replied in a cool, confident tone.

            Dean rose to the bait, furiously grappling against Michael's presence and trying to force him out.  Michael dodged every effort, amusement emanating from his consciousness.  With brutal precision, the archangel struck back at Dean, calling the tortured hunter's worst memories to the surface.  The night Sammy had almost died, when they were both younger, and his father's rage at his elder son's ineptness to kill the monster.  The night an older Sam had run away, leaving Dean stranded on some two-lane road in the middle of nowhere.  Even more recently, when Sam had been stabbed by another demon-blooded psychic and died in Dean's arms.

            Dean retreated, closing his mind in on itself before Michael could remind him of any other bad memories.  With a shudder, he realized that if Michael could erase his recollections of Hell, he might even be able to bring them back.

            Great.  Now Dean couldn't even fight back against the creature who had tricked him.

            Michael teleported his body just outside an old-looking graveyard, complete with a wrought-iron gate at the entrance.  It proclaimed itself to be Stull Cemetery...why did that name sound familiar?

            We're close to Lawrence, Kansas, Michael explained, a bemused note to his tone.

            Lawrence.  Where it all began.  Where Azazel had killed his mother and set in motion a chain of events that no one could have predicted.  Except the angels, and Chuck.

            All of that was pushed to the back of Dean's mind, though, as Michael strode into the cemetery.  Because standing there among the scattered stone crosses was Sam.