When Hope is all you have Left
A sequel to What Lies Within Us
Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torments of man.
-Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
Hope is a thing with feathers. That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without words And never stops at all.
-Emily Dickinson
Sam felt a throbbing headache as he slowly emerged from sleep. Everything hurt. His eyes, his throat, even his hair hurt. His eyes fluttered opened and they squinted from the harsh glare of the light in the panic room even though it wasn't very bright. His mind was clear again or as clear as it was ever going to get. The memories of what had happened with Famine, of what he had done to Famine and his men were there in stark relief. He also remembered Dean, looking at him, not with revilement, but with worry, even when he had thrashed Famine and his men, all he saw on Dean's face was concern. Somehow, seeing that hurt him even more. It would have almost been easier to see disgust than concern. Sam could understand disgust and disappointment. It seemed to him that it would be just another mistake to tick off on his scoreboard of mistakes. Still, he had to admit it was nice to see too, comforting even. He inched up to a sitting position, taking in a deep breath as if he had climbed a mountain.
"Hey, there Sleeping Beauty. About time you woke up. I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to find a handsome prince to kiss you."
"Shut up," Sam said with a small smile as he rubbed his eyes.
"How are you feeling?"
"How do I look?" Sam asked, feeling the fur on his tongue.
"Like Hell."
"Well, there's your answer."
"I figured. I've been there. I've looked like you do only better. I recognize the signs."
Sam snorted a short-lived laugh and looked up.
"Did everything –"
"Yep, it all happened, kid. Wish I could tell you it was all a dream like this is."
Sam did a double take, gave Dean a confused expression.
"What?"
"This. This is all a dream. You're still out like a light," Dean said as he pointed beyond Sam's shoulder.
Sam saw himself sleeping on the cot, positioned awkwardly given the length ratio of his body as compared to the cot.
"Am I…"
"Still on the demon juice? No, you worked that out. You're clean for the moment. Don't know how long you'll stay that way."
Sam looked at Dean again and felt something wrong, something wasn't right. Though he could easily imagine Dean scolding him for what he had done, this didn't feel like that. This didn't feel like Dean.
"Atta boy, use that grey matter of yours. You understand, don't you?"
"You're not Dean."
"Well, technically, I am, note the handsome figure that is, well, me, but no, I'm not the Dean you know."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Sam's voice was rising from a mix of anger and frustration. "Are you –"
"Lucifer? No, I'm not my brother."
Sam's eyes widened in shock and recognition.
"Michael?"
"In the flesh, well, in your brother's flesh, kind of…it gets a little complicated."
"I thought Cas said –"
"That you'd be hidden from angels, well, yeh, you are. I don't know where you are, Sam. I just tapped into the angel network that allows me to hone in on your signal. Just like my brother did only he got disconnected. That had to smart a little."
Sam's mind was battling with the familiar sound of Dean's voice talking like his brother would, with jokes, teasing, yet knowing, feeling, that this wasn't Dean at all.
"This isn't real, it's just a dream."
"Well, you're only half right. This is a dream, but my being here, it's real all right."
"Why are you in my head?"
"I need to talk to you –"
"You can stop right there! If you're going to give me some crap sell job about how I should convince Dean to let you use him as his vessel so that you can save the world, you can forget it. You'll get squat from me!"
"You don't get it, do you?"
"Get what?"
"Dean doesn't have a choice. You don't have a choice."
"Everyone has a choice," Sam said with gritted teeth.
"Not you boys. You were hand picked by my Father. It's an honor, really. Your destinies were written long before you were born, long before your parents were born. They were hand picked too, to make sure the two of you would be born."
Dean/Michael paced around Sam. Sam refused to follow with his eyes. He kept telling himself that none of it was real, that what it was saying didn't mean anything, yet, a tingle of doubt still crept in and he hated that it was there, that he had let it creep in.
"No, I don't believe you."
"Doesn't matter if you do or not. It's the truth and it's a done deal."
"You don't know my brother, do you?" Sam scoffed with a smile thinking about Dean telling Michael where to go.
"Oh, I do. Self-sacrificing, self-absorbed, self-piteous, weak-willed –"
"Shut up! My brother is better than any man I know."
"Not good enough for you to believe in him though, huh?"
"What?"
"You couldn't wait to get out from under his thumb, run to that demon slut, release my brother –"
"I didn't know killing Lillith –" Sam tried to defend, but it felt empty in conviction.
"Really doesn't matter, does it, Sammy boy? You had something to prove to a brother you should have believed in. Instead, you thought he was weak, less than the Dean that got taken to Hell. The least you can do is be honest about that."
Sam closed his eyes, wishing he could close his ears too because Michael wasn't wrong. He had even told Chuck that.
"Now, my brother, he did the same thing to me, to our Father. You really have a lot in common," Michael taunted. "He betrayed us. He will destroy the world, using your abilities to do it. You see, you may not know your brother, but I know mine. He hates humanity because humanity drove him apart from his Father. Meeting you now, I see why you're his perfect vessel."
"You can talk all you want, but I don't believe you. We won't consent."
Michael glared at him with Dean's usually sympathetic eyes.
"Dean will because he'll have to."
"What? I'm NOT going to give Lucifer my permission."
"Maybe, maybe not, but even if you don't, Lucifer is already here. The vessel he has, I'll admit, is pretty substandard and is breaking down every day, but he won't need you to reap his revenge over humanity. He'd just prefer you. With your powers, you'd make the whole thing a lot easier. Look at what he did in Carthage? Summoned the horseman, Death."
Sam finally looked at Dean/Michael.
"What are you trying to say?"
"Are you REALLY THAT thick?" Michael said. "Dean has no choice. No matter what, if he wants to save the world, save your sorry ass, clean up the mess you left, he's going to HAVE to give me consent because I'm the only person who can stop it. Get it now, college boy?"
"How are you going to stop it?"
"Well, that's for me to know and for your brother to find out. So you see, we don't even need you in this fight, unless you use your powers and make a bad situation even worse. You still have loads of potential for that."
Sam felt deflated and tired.
"How does it feel now, huh? To be treated like you treated your brother. Useless. Unneeded. Oh, wait, maybe you do know how it feels after all, isn't that what got us here in the first place?"
Sam jerked awake and looked around the panic room. Dean/Michael was gone. His body ached from the contorted position he had slept in. He then heard the door squeak open and Dean enter.
"You okay there, Sammy?"
The concern and compassion in Dean's voice and etched on his own tired face compared to Michael's brought a calm to Sam.
"To be honest, I don't know."
Dean entered further into the room.
"You were thrashing around like a dervish."
Sam looked dejected, hating the idea of telling Dean what Michael had said, but determined to earn Dean's trust back.
"What's wrong?"
"Michael came into my dreams."
Dean looked shocked.
"Archangel Michael? Lucifer's big bro? The one I have to give consent to hijack my ass?"
"Yes, yes, and yes," Sam said half-joking.
"I thought Cas said –"
"Apparently the angel network can tap into the dream channel," Sam said. "He can't find us, but they can still get into our heads. And believe me, it's one reality show I'd rather skip."
"Judging by the look on your face, he had nothing nice to say, I guess," Dean said.
"No. He was impersonating you."
"Well, at least he had good taste."
Sam couldn't help, but smile. Leave it to Dean to put a humorous spin on things no matter how bleak things looked.
"He said…" Sam said, his voice betraying the fear and sadness of his encounter with Michael.
"What is it, Sammy?" Dean asked worried himself.
"He said the only way we can save the world from the Apocalypse is to have you give consent, that he's the only one who can stop things."
"Thinks highly of himself, doesn't he? Well, that's not going to happen. Just like you're not going to give in to Lucifer."
"Michael said that it didn't matter whether Lucifer got me or not, that he can use the vessel he's got to end the world."
"Well, good, I'd like to see him try then we can kill him."
"With what, Dean? We tried the Colt. It just left a scar on his human host."
"We'll think of something."
Sam shook his head.
"What else did he say?"
"That was it about the Apocalypse, the rest was just about how I screwed things up."
"Sam, don't let him mess with your head."
"Dean, you know this is all my fault."
"Yeh? And who broke the first seal. We've been through all this. It doesn't do any good to rehash it all over again. The past is done, finito."
"Maybe, but there's one thing I'll never get back."
"What's that? What could be that important?"
"Your trust."
FIN. Another sequel to come.