Good morning! So this is the third and final (at this moment, anyway) tag I have to the blank space we're all sitting in between S13 and S14. I'm not sure "enjoy" is the right word... but, enjoy! ;)
The Colonial on Thirty Acres
The warding spell burned through his entire being like there was fire in his blood.
It was a new, unusual sensation. One of many that Dean was unfortunately becoming familiar with these days. He held out the briefest hope that the warding would hold Michael back even though he knew it wouldn't.
And it didn't.
Power rushed through the body Dean had once called his own and the warding spells - there had been three of them, intricate and ancient, - fizzled out of existence. Closer inspection revealed multiple protective sigils. The sigils evaporated just like the spells had and, under different circumstances, Dean might have found the ability cool. Now, he just found it terrifying.
They made their entrance into the motel room without the use of the door.
Sometimes Dean really missed opening doors.
There was no need to wait for his eyes to adjust to the dark these days and the second he saw whose room they were in, his heart soared and then plummeted straight to the dirty carpet.
Because they were standing in Sam's room.
At least he hadn't made it easy. That was something anyway. Despite the circumstances, Dean was proud of his brother for taking so many precautions. For being careful. Not that Sam had known they were pursuing him.
Sam still thought he was the one doing the pursuing.
He was wrong.
Dean didn't know why they had chased his brother down. As usual, he hadn't been involved in the planning process. He'd just been dragged around from place to place while his captor had searched for someone.
Dean didn't know how long it had been since he'd been taken.
Didn't know how long it had been since he'd last seen his brother. The memory of the pure joy on Sam's face when he'd stared down at Lucifer, dead on the ground, was the only thing keeping Dean going these days. As long as he could picture Sam's expression, as long as he could remember the huge breath of absolute relief he'd sucked in - like Sam hadn't even been breathing for the past decade - Dean knew what he'd done had been well worth the price he was paying.
He longed to be able to talk to his brother; to reach out and touch him. To let him know he was alive and, despite being a prisoner in his own body, still fighting. To make sure Sam was doing the same.
But as they drew nearer to the bed, terror gripped him. They were here for a reason, he had no doubt. Michael didn't do anything without a reason and, as happy as he was to see his brother, Dean wished they were anywhere but here.
He stared down at his brother with eyes that weren't his own anymore.
Even sound asleep, Sam looked exhausted. Dean knew all too well what it was like to be the one left behind. The one wondering and worrying. Research and stress brought on late nights and early mornings and nothing but tossing and turning in between. Sam was still dressed and sound asleep on top of the covers so Dean knew he'd gone as long as he could before finally dropping out of sheer necessity.
Michael took another step closer to the bed and the fear sent every other emotion running.
"No!" Dean screamed in his mind.
He felt the smile on his own face as Michael responded softly to his voiceless plea. "Calm yourself, Dean."
There was no such thing as calm these days, but Dean held back from saying anything else. He could almost feel his heart beating wildly in his chest except it wasn't. His heartbeat was even, his body relaxed. Michael was completely at ease and Dean hated him for it.
Hated him even more when he took a seat on the edge of the bed.
And then Dean had an entirely different reason to worry.
Because Sam really should have been awake by now.
They'd entered silently, so Dean could understand Sam not waking up right at first. But he should have been on alert the moment Michael had spoken. The fact that Michael could sit down on the bed next to him and Sam didn't so much as twitch a finger told Dean that something was far wrong.
"Nothing's wrong. He's merely fatigued. Your brother has been working very hard to get you back," Michael said. He sounded amused by the thought. "He's just sleeping."
"I know my brother and I've seen him so sleep deprived he nearly died and he was still able to watch my back. He's not just sleeping. What are you doing to him?"
Michael laughed and stroked a hand over Sam's hair. "I'm allowing him to get the rest he so desperately needs while you and I have a little chat. Don't worry; I'll allow him to participate shortly."
Dean was pretty sure a chill would have run down his spine at those words; if he'd still been in possession of his own spine. Phantom feelings like sweaty palms and a churning gut accosted him. What if Michael had brought him here to watch Sam die?
"If I wanted him dead, he would already be dead."
Why wouldn't…
"Why wouldn't I want him dead?" The archangel read his thoughts.
Dean hated sharing his headspace with a freakin' angel.
Michael sighed. "Whether your brother lives or dies is up to you, Dean. I don't care either way."
The casual indifference in his tone left a bitter aftertaste in Dean's mouth and an ache in his soul. Hearing his own voice say something that cruel and dismissive about Sam's life turned his stomach - or at least would have if his body was still his own.
"This is precisely the reason I've brought you here tonight." Michael smiled again, his hand gently settling over Sam's throat as he asked, "If he were dead, who would you live for?"
Dread coursing through him at the beat of Sam's pulse under a hand that no longer belonged to him, Dean tried to unravel the meaning behind that statement.
"You don't understand, do you?" Michael almost sounded sad. He squeezed his hand around Sam's throat, increasing pressure ever so slowly. "Allow me to help you understand."
Like a switch had been flipped, Sam's eyes flew open and he instantly began to struggle. His hands wrapped around Michael's - Dean's - wrist, instantly, instinctively, trying to pull free of his grip. Dean was forced to sit there, while an unnatural smile formed on his face.
He saw the exact moment Sam was coherent enough to realize who was looming over him and what was happening. Sam's eyes widened and his expression went from pure surprise to hopeful recognition to absolute panic.
"Stop! Don't do this!" Dean was utterly helpless as he watched his own hand begin to choke the life out of his brother.
"Broken things are of no interest to me." Michael tilted his head, entertained by Sam's efforts to break his grip. Sam was fighting hard but was no match for the archangel. Still increasing pressure, Michael said, "I don't want to break you, Dean. If you accept the lesson I have brought you here to learn, I won't have to."
Dean didn't know what he was supposed to learn from this other than that Michael was a monster; which he already knew.
"You are very strong-willed and that interests me. I admire you, even."
"I don't care if you admire me. Let him go!"
Michael's grip released, but his hand continued to hover dangerously close to Sam's throat. Dean watched in horrified relief as Sam gasped and coughed, struggling for breath. His heart sank, though, when Sam's panicked expression changed to one of hope. He thought Dean had been able to stop Michael from killing him. It was written all over his face.
No, no, no! Sam, I'm not doing this! Dean thought of that moment in Stull Cemetery when Sam had finally wrested control from Lucifer. Shame and sorrow overcame him because I can't stop him. I can't do anything. I've tried so hard! I'm still trying, but you have to fight!
Dean felt Michael's - his - fingers tightening again.
"What I need you to understand is that I can take everything from you. And I will, if you try my patience." Michael's voice was unemotional as he squeezed harder and harder. "But I would rather we reach an accord. You were willing to become my vessel in order to save your brother, but ever since, you have been fighting me without ceasing."
"What do you want from me?" Dean shouted, beating hard against the walls of his prison. He watched Sam's desperate attempts at resistance fail and his eyes roll back as he lost consciousness. "Please, please, stop."
Michael just squeezed harder, his voice placid as he said, "Broken things may still be usable, but they are poor substitutes for vibrant, living sacrifices. I don't want a vessel that's broken. Would you want to live in a rundown shack when you could live in a pristine Colonial on thirty acres?"
Dean didn't care what Michael wanted; all he cared about was his brother.
Sam wasn't moving.
"I want the Colonial, Dean." Michael sighed, finally releasing his grip. He shook his head, almost pityingly as Sam sucked in a huge, desperate breath and started gasping. "But you have to stop fighting me. There is no happy ending for you. At least not until you accept your place."
Accept my place. Accept my place as a prisoner? As a ghost haunting my own body?
Dean knew the answer was yes. It had to be. How could it not be when he was sitting on his brother's bed, in the process of murdering him. There was no choice. He'd made what was probably his last choice ever when he'd decided to allow Michael to use him as a vessel. It had backfired horribly and now he was facing up to the consequences in the worst way possible.
After years of believing otherwise, he was being forced to accept that free will was nothing more than an illusion.
Sam was coughing, his eyes unfocused, but his fight or flight instincts kicked in and he shoved Dean's hand off his throat. Dean knew what was coming and was cheering his brother on as he threw a punch, then rolled to the other side of the bed. The punch caught Michael off guard and Dean allowed himself a split second to hope Sam had come up with some miraculous weapon that could blast Michael to another dimension.
And then, so fast his mind couldn't even process it, they were across the room, his hand once again around his brother's throat as Michael shoved him backwards onto the carpet. Sam landed hard, arms flung out at his sides; the precious breath he'd managed to draw in knocked out of him by the blow. He was struggling to move, but was disoriented and sluggish and, kneeling at his side, Michael easily subdued him.
Dean felt his fingers constrict again around his brother's throat and wanted to die.
"Don't make me break you," Michael said casually.
Dean knew exactly how much pressure it took to crush a throat, and they were approaching the threshold so fast it shook him to his core. Michael had him exactly where he wanted him. Knew exactly how to threaten him to ensure his complete submission.
"Stop. Please. Please, just-"
"Just what, Dean?" Michael asked, staring impassively as Sam's lips went a dusky blue.
"Just let him live and you can have your damn Colonial! Dean was, for all intents and purposes, on his knees begging now. "Please! Please. I'll...I'll stop fighting you."
Michael's grip released again and Dean was sick with fear.
The archangel watched with a serene indifference as Sam once again gasped for breath. He patted Sam on the chest gently although there was no disguising the intent behind the gesture. It wasn't kindness or concern. It was ownership.
Michael owned them both.
He was in control, in power. They were nothing but possessions to him. He could snuff either of them out in an instant.
They were allowed a few seconds of peace and quiet. Dean hated that he couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't check his brother over like he wanted to. Couldn't call Jody or Cas to let them know where Sam was. All he could do was sit there watching as Sam continued to cough and wheeze.
And then Sam's eyes slid open again.
Dean would have held his breath if he'd had any control over anything.
Sam blinked a few times, awareness slowly filling his glazed eyes.
"Dean?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.
"Stay out of my way, Winchester," Dean heard his own voice say to his brother. "You've been a vessel before so I know you understand when I tell you I can break your brother beyond repair. Dean has submitted himself to my terms and I would rather not destroy him. However, if you continue pursuing me out of a fallacious assumption you will somehow work a miracle and separate us, I will personally arrange for you to have a front row seat as I tear the last shreds of your brother's mind apart."
The horror in Dean's heart was nothing compared to the horror in his brother's eyes.
Sam started to say something, then both hands went to his throat as he gasped for breath.
Michael smiled again, this time using only his powers, instead of his stolen hands, to choke Sam.
"Stop! Michael, stop!" Dean uselessly shouted, watching his brother's life fade away in front of him. "I'll do whatever you want! Just leave him alone!"
Michael ignored him, pressure remaining steady as he stood and said, "This is the only warning I will give you."
Dean wasn't sure if he was talking to Sam or to both of them. Either way, he knew there was nothing that would stop Sam from doing everything possible to get him back. Hope, pride, and fear filled him in equal measures at the thought.
"Don't make me destroy your brother, Winchester."
Michael finally released Sam and Dean started to breathe again. There was precious little relief to be had, though, standing as he was above his struggling brother. Sam had a hand fisted against the carpet, his other at his throat while he coughed. Despite the fact he could barely breathe, he was trying to say something, but Michael didn't give him time.
His tone was a frigid blast of dispassion as he promised both of them, "If you violate my terms, I will end him."
Dean had one last moment to look at his brother as he fought for breath. In that moment, he saw both absolute determination and utter despair in Sam's eyes.
"Say goodbye to your brother, Dean," Michael said, and then they were gone.
the end
I was pretty sure I would NEVER write anything from the Michael/Dean perspective, but then this happened. :) It was actually very interesting and a lot of fun to write their POV. Don't know if I have any more tags to come or not, but at least we're getting closer to S14.
On Monday I'll be back with the next chapter to "Fifty Miles." Thanks for reading!