Disclaimer: It doesn't belong to me.
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Mirror Images
January 24th. He glanced down at the open pocket watch in his palm, the long slender iron rod just slightly right of its shorter companion. One minute after midnight, the dark birth of a new day. It counted.
Happy Birthday, he thought to himself, a wry grin twisting his face into what passed as an almost pleasant expression. Inside, however, he attached to the passing of another year of his life no more significance than an alcoholic notices one more empty bottle.
"Michael," he heard the familiar voice call behind him, smelled the familiar scent as a familiar presence confidently approached to stand beside him.
"Michael, Michael, Michael," sighed the voice, wry and chagrined.
Involuntarily, his glance slid slightly to the left in the glass before returning to stare at ahead. His companion ignored his silence, or rather treated his silence as his reply.
"They always thought you were the strongest. Everyone…for forever. It's been quite tiresome, you know, especially when I knew that everyone was wrong."
Even if Michael couldn't see his face, he knew he would still be know than his companion wore a satisfied smirk. Still, he made no answer.
His companion seemed to neither expect nor desire him to.
"I always wondered, though," the mocking in his voice turned thoughtful. "I always wondered what you really thought of it. Was it a duty, being the strongest? The hero on the white horse nobody remembers until some facet of their lives comes crashing down and suddenly he's useful again? Or was it a pleasure? Did you actually enjoy it all—the fawning, the worshipping? Did our Father really have to order you, or did you just make it seem that way? You have such a saintly rep, after all. We couldn't possibly tarnish it. People might start to think you aren't larger than life." The thoughtfulness in its turn flowed seamlessly into clipped matter-of-fact. "Doesn't matter. Achilles had his heel, and so do you. Achilles had Paris, and you have me. Fortunately for Achilles, we emulate Abel and Cain more than him, reversed as our roles may be."
Michael felt his mouth move, his throat rasping out a hoarse voice, as if he'd been screaming. "Though which of us is destined to commit the sin of Cain?"
His brother rolled his eyes, his voice at once scornful and persuasive. "Why must the sin of Cain be committed? No, don't tell me. God wills it. Where is God, Michael? Where is your Father to give you orders now? He's gone. Vanished. *Poof* into thin air. Who's to say what He wills anymore, if anything? We could accomplish so much, Michael. Together we can rebuild the world into a better one, a glorious one. Don't tell me you enjoy seeing the earth slowly die, the humans slowly but surely suffocating themselves and every living thing around them. I know you don't. We can change that."
"Though at what cost?" Michael asked in his rasping voice. "How much death will be dealt before you are sated?"
A wounded look crossed his brother's face in the mirror. "Everything I've ever done was necessary, Michael. You can't clean up without getting your hands dirty."
Michael closed his eyes so he couldn't see their reflections juxtaposed in the mirror. "I always loved you. No matter what you did you were my brother."
Lucifer waited until Michael opened his eyes to reply. "That has always been the reason why everyone was wrong."
Michael looked into the mirror. Really looked.
The green eyes of Dean and Sam Winchester stared back.
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A/N: So whatcha think? I realize that Dean Winchester would most likely not own a pocket watch, but the version of Michael in my head is sort of nostalgic, and the muse said write it so I did.
I actually wrote this before the Michael episode, and am just now posting. I got to thinking of what it would be like if Sam and Dean said 'yes' and the ending popped into my head first. The rest kind of wrote itself. Hope you liked it!