Betaread and final touches done by PshhAnonymous!
Chapter I
"Dean Winchester is saved."
Dean coughed as stale and stuffy air filled his lungs. "Yea, saved, my ass…" he croaked as he rummaged around his pockets and was rewarded with a lighter.
Dean felt like his head wanted to burst open anytime, temples pulsing painfully, every quick move sending waves of pain through his skull. The memories were jumbled, with entireties of mortal lives lapping over each other and mixing with eons of his angelic recollections. Dean knew that until he could sort them out, he would have to deal with the mother of all the headaches, and all his younger siblings' cheering voices in the corner of his mind didn't help at all.
First things first, though, Dean really needed to get topside from six feet under. He pried the rotting wood board of his coffin lid, and slowly started ploughing his way through the dirt. Dean found a growing respect for all the zombies as his lungs screamed for air, his arms aching, and he felt like a supernova just went out in his head. Crawling out of your grave was not an easy task, that was for sure.
Finally he reached the top and took a deep breath of fresh air. For some time Dean just laid on the ground, staring blankly at the blue sky above him, listening at the bugs chirping around and feeling grass caressing his cheeks. It was all Father's creations, and the humans inhabiting the Earth – His greatest masterpiece. Dean put an elbow over his eyes, thinking over God's plan, but couldn't make head nor tail of it.
After a while, Dean hauled himself off the ground, looking around. The surrounding trees were torn out at their roots and flattened in a circle, with his grave as its epicenter. Some of their stems were broken in half, branches ripped off. Dean smirked as he took in the destruction of the forest, caused by the angel briefly touching the Earth in his true form.
The archangel coughed again and started walking in a random direction. He began to thoroughly sort through his memories, feeling the throbbing in his head subsiding with each memory placed into the correct spot. The angelic recollections sank into his mind easily. Then Dean separated memories of all the previous lives from the current one, and shoved them deep into his conscious.
As soon as he did that, Dean felt an urgent want, no, need, to make sure Sam was okay, and the archangel frowned at that. He'd never become very close with his younger siblings, except Lucifer. The latter was the second angel to be created by Father, and for a while it was only three of them, until Raphael and Gabriel came into existence. Michael loved every younger sibling who was born later, but it was never the same.
The oldest archangel was so confused and lost, wondering what he should do now. Looking from the Heaven's position, God's plan was rather simple. Let Lucifer out, let him and Michael take their true vessels and have them fight till one of them won, with Heaven and Hell on the sidelines cheering for the horse they'd respectively bet on. Looking from humanity's perspective, from Dean Winchester's position, this plan was the biggest bullshit Dean had ever heard. And he'd heard lots of bullshit throughout his life…
Dean heaved a relieved sigh, as he spotted the lonely gas station in the middle of nowhere, and unconsciously quickened his pace. He really didn't want to think about what to do with the Apocalypse. His own emotions were all over the place, the angelic and mortal sides warring with each other. The archangel was conflicted, and right now his mortal body was demanding for a cup of water, so breaking and entering was a no brainer once he was sure that no one was around.
Finally the dirt was washed from his throat, and Dean felt his body relax as he emptied the whole bottle of water. He munched on some granola bars, sating his mortal needs for the moment. With that taken care off, his mind again wandered to what to do next. Whatever he decided to do with the Apocalypse, first step was regaining his grace. Sam could probably help with that, maybe even Bobby.
Dean groaned from that line of thought. He couldn't just tell them who he really was. They both were hunters, and would probably gank his ass first, then ask questions. Still, the Apocalypse was already rolling into town, and as powerless as he was right now, the fallen archangel needed allies. Sam Winchester was the key person for whatever path he would decide to take.
With a rough plan in mind, Dean grabbed some more snacks and water, emptied the register for money, when suddenly he felt the presence loom over the gas station. As TV and radio turned on, Winchester raised his eyebrow in curiosity.
"Dean Winchester."
The high pitch whining sound pierced Dean's ears like the knife. He put his hands over his ears, gritting his teeth as the unbearable pain bore into his skull.
"We need to talk."
The windows exploded. Dean hunched down as glass rained down on him. The whining sound stopped as abruptly as it started. Dean lifted his head to look around, and moaned as pain surged through it. The blood trickled from his ears, and the archangel frowned at the red drops on his palms. Huh. So that's how humans felt hearing an angel's true voice. He swore never to speak with any mortal without the vessel.
"Lower the volume, if you want to talk, buddy," Dean muttered under his breath as he collected his stolen goods and went outside to make a call.
Sam's mobile phone was turned off. Bobby didn't want to hear a word from him. He understood the reason behind it, but still Dean couldn't help but feel a little hurt because of how ruthlessly his call was brushed off. While staring at the old car in the parking lot, the archangel realized that he truly missed his wings and his Baby. He was unable to decide which one of two he missed more, though, and Dean snorted and shook his head amused. Who would have believed that he would actually compare such fundamentally different ways of transportation one day?
As soon as the battered, old scrap Dean hot-wired in that gas station rolled into Pontiac city, he almost smashed into the street light as the feeling of his own essence, of his power, the core of the archangel Michael, washed his senses. The emptiness inside ached to be filled; overwhelming desire to be whole again made him dizzy.
A piece of Michael's grace was here, in this city.
Barely containing excitement, Dean followed the feeling of his essence to the parking lot of the hotel by the name 'Astoria'. He jumped out from the junk he drove and he almost ran towards the building when suddenly his eyes fell on the sleek, black car. The archangel stopped in his track, the heart almost leaping out of his chest.
It was the Impala. It was his Baby.
With a trembling hand, Dean touched the trunk of the Impala and carefully stroked over the whole length of the car, all his longing and love in the motion. And then realization hit him – if Baby was here, then Sammy was here too. He was probably the one who had his grace which was buzzing eagerly inside the hotel. It wanted to be reunited with its archangel as much as he wanted to be whole again.
But why Sam was here? And why did he have a piece of Michael's grace? Did he know what he had? Maybe it was a trap. Not that Dean was afraid of being killed. Angels needed him alive and kicking, so they would resurrect him in a heartbeat, but the thought that Sam could be setting a trap for him to come and claim his essence was unsettling.
Dean stopped in front of the door of the room where his grace resided. He was completely powerless at the moment, so he couldn't sense who was in a room, but it was now or never. The archangel took a deep breath before knocking gently and uncertainly.
The doors opened after a moment. "Ruby, you don't need to–" Sam's voice hitched as his gaze fell on the person standing in front of the door. Instantly his brain shut down, unable to comprehend what was going on. He could just stare at the man with wide eyes and mouth agape.
Dean smiled at the utter disbelief etched on his human brother's face. He decided to ignore the name Sam had said for now, no need to start bickering from the very beginning. Crazy buzzing and roaring calling to be claimed drew the archangel's attention from the younger man's face to his neck. Dean's smile widened as the understanding of why Sam had the piece of his grace came to him. It was lodged into the amulet Sammy gifted to him so many years ago. Of course he took it with him when he buried his corpse.
Dean's eyes flickered to his brother's face again. "Heya, Sammy," he greeted softly.
That woke the younger Winchester out of his stupor, and Dean's heart broke at all the pain and grief suddenly appearing on Sam's features. After a split second, it was replaced by the rage, flaring like a fire in those hazel-green orbs.
Dean instinctively caught Sam's wrist as he attacked with the silver blade, twisted Sam around and restrained his hand behind his back. "Easy, Sammy," he said calmly, tearing the knife out of the younger man's palm and pushing him into the room. The archangel closed the door as he entered too, and turned to his brother.
Sam warily eyed the knife and gritted his teeth. "Who are you?!" he demanded.
"It's me, Sammy," Dean assured, brushing the silver blade over his forearm, drawing blood. "Not a shapeshifter, nor revenant." He pulled his t-shirt's collar, revealing an undamaged anti-possession tattoo. "Not a demon, either. Just me. Dean."
A hope sparked in Sam's tired eyes. "Dean..?" His voice was so small, just above the whisper, broken and shattered. Fear settled on his face. "But…" 'You're dead' was left unsaid, like Sam was afraid to disturb the illusion in front of him by uttering those words.
"No buts. I look fantastic, I know. But you," Dean pointed at Sam, startling him, and grinned. "You need a haircut, kiddo."
Sam let out a short chuckle, something between annoyance and amusement, and suddenly Dean found himself in a body-crushing hug. Sam clung to him like he feared that letting his older brother out of his embrace would somehow mean he would leave or disappear into thin air.
Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, who slightly trembled and gripped his big brother even harder with every passing second. And at that moment the archangel realized that he loved this kid. He loved him so much that he couldn't let anything happen to him. He couldn't let Lucifer raise and claim him as his true vessel, destroying everything what made Sam Winchester who he was in the process. Dean would never forgive himself if his brother ceased to exist.
"Sam, I need to breathe here," Dean wheezed out after couple minutes when his brother's hug didn't loosen up in the slightest.
"Oh. Sorry." Sam pulled from him in a reluctant hurry, but kept one hand on Dean's shoulder to make sure that his brother really was there. He looked him over, the image of a bloody, shredded body flashing through his mind. "But… How? How are you here? Alive?"
"Someone pulled me out," the older Winchester explained. "I just woke up in the coffin six feet under, had to crawl out to topside." His eyes dropped to Sam's chest where the amulet hung. The buzzing of the archangel's grace was getting stronger. The emptiness in the spot inside him from where the grace was ripped away ached with pain and need to embrace it.
Sam followed his line of sight, and smirked as he realized where his brother's eyes were glued. "You probably want this back," he said, pulling the amulet from under his shirt and over his head. The younger Winchester dangled it in front of Dean, and grinned when the latter sucked in a breath. Sam didn't expect to get a hug for returning the trinket, so he almost toppled over when Dean grabbed it and literally threw himself on him. "Uh, Dean?" he called, confused.
The archangel squeezed the amulet in his fist before the warm golden light could illuminate the dim room and alert Sam. "Thanks," he whispered.
"Don't mention it."
Dean pulled away, still keeping the amulet tightly in his hand. The grace was already trying to seep into him. "Okay, enough chick-flick moments, I, uh, I need to pee now," he said grinning, and quickly strode to the bathroom.
Sam gave him incredulous stare. "Seriously?"
"What?" Dean stopped before closing the door, the hand with the amulet safely hidden behind it, and turned to Sam. "I haven't peed in like…" He did some calculation in his head, and scowled at the result. "Longer than I would be comfortable to admit out loud."
Sam shook his head at Dean's antics, smiling. "Take a shower, too! You need it!" he shouted to him, after bathroom door's closed.
"Bitch!" a reply came from inside.
"Jerk!" Sam retorted happily, a huge grin plastered across his face.
