Title : Will You, Michael?

Disclaimer : I do not own any of the Characters of Supernatural.

Genre : Angst / Friendship

Warning : Character Death. OOCness.

Summary : It was going to be their last day together, yet Michael still did not have the courage to tell Anna the truth.


It is sunny out, the white room lit by sunlight shining through the window. Usually, Michael would spare five minutes of his day just to admire nature's grace, but today he is in no mood to do so.

He's sitting next to a bed, one designated to his friend, Anna Milton. She has been using it for a month now, and Michael's dutiful visits have practically made the squeaky chair his. The bedside table probably knows every flower in the city because a flower is what he brings to this room everyday.

Today he brought none, because he couldn't risk arriving too late to spend time with Anna.

The doctor said she only has a few hours left to live, the illness she contracted having reached its final stage, and Michael - as he listens to her talks - prays ferociously that the doctor lied, because Anna looks no different from the time she first came, just a little more pale.

But after seven long years of knowing Anna, sharing the same school and meeting on a regular basis, Michael understands Anna to be a strong woman. She is fighting her condition, and she is doing it for him.

He wishes she wouldn't.

Abruptly, Anna's words get cut short by a powerful coughing fit. Michael rises instantly and tries to soothe her agony, gently rubbing her back and muttering sweet nothings near her ear. She is hunched over, but once the cough subsides, she falls slack in his arms.

Michael sits himself on the side of the bed and rests her head on his shoulder.

She has the nerve to laugh.

"I guess, it's winning. Poor me."

Michael wishes he had her enthusiasm right now, to be able to tell jokes and make someone laugh, but since day one, Michael has been feeling nothing but a stinging sensation in his chest. Anna was a healthy woman, but something changed that and after a month, she did not meet recovery.

She got worse.

If Michael had known their days together were this severely numbered, he would have never become her friend. It was a position of trust and companionship, but what Michael always wanted since the day they met was something more.

He fights a sob when he thinks about how many times he failed to tell Anna the truth about his feelings. Seven years, and all he ever was, was a good friend. A few men have entered Anna's life while Michael simply stood by, watching her fall in love and break up, until the last man managed to break her heart.

He could repeat those month-long sessions of comforting Anna to boost her recovery, but not for a second could he tell her why he cared so much.

When Anna barks another cough, Michael caresses her back, fighting every urge to just play with her red hair he finds so enchanting. They promised not to do that, because Dean had also been fascinated, and every touch left her remembering his cruelty.

In the end, Michael is all that is left for Anna, no family or friends bothering to visit, as everything Anna loves is drifting away. Michael remains, yet all he's done is lie.

He wants to be honest with her, desperately so.

The words barely leave him before Anna speaks.

"Promise me something," She breathes, "that you will go out and find a woman to love, to marry, and have kids. T-That you will finally grasp this happy life I always tell you about."

Michael's ministrations do not halt, but his heart stops dead for five seconds.

This is it? This is what she wants?

It's a preposterous wish, impossible to fulfill. There is no way Michael can ever do as asked even with a gun pointed to his head. He never knew how serious she was about getting him laid, how truly unhappy she was with him being single, work-busy, and seemingly lonely.

There is a reason for all that which she didn't know.

Anna is the woman he loves.

There can be no other, not in any city, any country, or planet. All this time, it has always been just her in his eyes, an inhabitant inside his heart, and the sole thing that turns dreams into pure bliss.

She still believes he can actually have this life.

What a fool he's been.

"Will you, Michael?"

It aches his heart to hear her plea. The final request she will ever ask of him is unacceptable, and it pains him more to know he can't possibly keep it. He bites his lower lip to stop the quivering and blinks away the tears threatening to spill. It does not take him too long to voice the lie.

"...Of course."

Warmth slips from his fingertips, like the skin beneath them has lost its heat source, the soul vanishing from the confines of Anna's body and leaving him alone with nothing but an empty shell.

It happens so suddenly Michael breaks down crying.

He has always been a man of action, never choosing words and always uses a few at a time. He shows commitment through the things he does, and for once he is glad Anna did not ask of him to show her proof that he would go find someone. It would fail before he even started.

As he places her body back onto the pillow, Michael recalls wanting to maybe kiss her after she's said all she wants, to shower her, just this one time, with his affections, and remove any lingering desire he has ever had to touch her in a lover's way.

She left too soon.

The thin sheet becomes soaked in his sorrow as Michael's heart yearns for the return of life, a twitch or crack in the hand he's holding. It takes a couple of minutes for a nurse to wander in and see the awful sight, before rushing out, screaming for the doctor and Michael promises himself to leave so he would not have to hear the bad news.

Seeing it is already beyond bearable.

Michael stands on unsteady legs and with one final glance, he sees his whole world gone. His purpose of life that won't ever be replaced. He tried so hard to make up for his silence, and nothing but the faint smile on Anna's face tells him he did well.

The doctor arrives to find the visitor gone.


Owari