better man/worse than nicotine » arthur ketch

three: that will be you.

A/N: I promise these will stop being so short starting with the next chapter. It's just hard to summarize/smash together six episodes worth of stuff and not add in too many unnecessary details and also not make it sound like complete bullshit. I'm trying to move this along so we can get to the actual plot line for the book lol. Thanks for bearing with me!

It's been months. Almost six, exactly, if my counting is correct and tally marks on the wall are not screwed.

I'd like to think my brothers are looking for me. But at this point, I am losing hope. And judging by the looks of the universe around me, I have to be glad they aren't here. This world is different, a lot darker. There isn't a day when a storm isn't raging in the sky. And there's not a single day that I don't hear about another execution of traitors.

The Angels are executing those who are part of the Resistance against Michael. The first time I heard, I wanted desperately to turn Angel Radio off. It was much quieter back home. Here, there's so many of them talking. I can hear Michael, he is the most distinct, and I suppose his tyranny has something to do with that. But there are few others I can pick out. Zachariah, is one. But not many.

It's too loud.

Michael comes in every day. "Checking in" on me.

But his check-ins are not as pleasant as the name suggests. His presence does something to me, I don't know if it's his weakened vessel or the warding this place has, but something makes me dizzy. The warding has me in a haze anyway, only because it's some stronger than I've ever experienced before.

It's strong enough to hurt me. I never came across anything like that back home.

But it is here. And I am forced to listen to Michael drone on about his plans every single day.

But today is different.

Today I don't have time to think before he's inside my head, snooping around, seeing things I wish he wasn't able to.

And I can hear myself talking. Every word involuntarily spilling from my mouth.

Then suddenly, it stops.

I blink quickly, the world around me coming back into view. Michael standing in front of me, lowering his hand with a smug smirk plastered across his lips.

"What was that?"

"Hitched a ride on your temporal lobe," he replies, beginning to pace the room like he always does. "Saw your world. The paradise you left behind." He pauses, tilting his head. "I believe I'll take up residence. Lend my guiding hand."

Despite the haze, I feel myself rolling my eyes. "Right, because you did such wonders with this world here."

Michael ignores me. "I saw what you're afraid of," he stops pacing, giving me a look. "I saw the man you love."

Loved, I want to scream. Past tense.

"You're afraid of being abandoned."

"Who would've guessed?"

"You still think this is funny."

"I think you're an asshole," I fire back. "An asshole who thinks he can do anything he wants to me and I'll give in just because I'm the Perfect Vessel." I take a deep breath, slowly gaining my senses again. "Just because that's what Destiny says I am, doesn't mean I have to play the part. I'd rather die than be any Angel's vessel."

Michael eyes me. "You say that every time I come here."

"What?"

"That you'd rather die," he clarifies. "I saw that, too. You think dying is the only answer. That is the one thing you are no longer afraid of."

"I'm not even supposed to be alive," I mutter. "I made that deal so I would stay dead, so I would stop making stupid decisions. I'm not supposed to be here."

"But yet you are." He begins pacing again. "You will come around, Joy. When I am in your world, I will need a new vessel – one strong enough to withstand a different atmosphere." He pauses, looking me directly in the eyes. "And that will be you."

He leaves without another word, always making sure he has the last word of every conversation we have. And I no longer have the energy to argue.

These walls seem to move closer and closer together every day that I am here. The warding only seems to chip away at the last bit self-awareness I have. The dreams of Ketch – the man I used to think was everything – have only become so frequent I sometimes wake thinking he is here.

Maybe Michael is right.

I don't know how much more of this I can take. And if Sam and Dean aren't looking for me, then what is the point of me being here?

I've heard of what it's like to be possessed by an Angel. I've heard sometimes it flies by, you don't even realize it. I've heard they create a safe space for you, in your head, a paradise of sorts to keep you occupied while they use your body as a vessel. I'm not saying Michael is that nice. But I'm also not saying he wouldn't not put me in a paradise if it meant keeping my sarcastic comments subdued while he parades around in my body.

Am I seriously considering this?

I want to scream at myself for the consideration, but something about it doesn't seem so bad. Compared to the way I am living right now, it doesn't seem bad.

And if he put me in a Paradise Land, maybe I would see Sam and Dean again. Maybe...

Maybe I'd get to see Ketch – not Ketch, Arthur. Ketch was a stone-cold soldier. Arthur was the man I loved, the man that took care of me. Arthur was warmth. Arthur felt a lot like home.

Maybe I'd get to have that again.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.