The Man Who Knew Too Little
Chapter 4: by Clubs

Michael found himself standing in a field, caught off-guard at the sudden change from the black and fire of the Cage. He recognized this field. It was where he and Lucifer had been, finally about to meet in their legendary battle to end all battles. Until all that was ruined by Dean fucking Winchester.

The resurrected archangel spat in disgust at the thought that that boneless meat puppet had been planned to be his vessel. In all honesty, Michael didn't have a problem with humans. He had little patience, however, for self-righteous humans trying to play God and stop the Apocalypse. With one of his younger brothers, no less.

Not that Michael wanted to have to kill Lucifer, whom he had loved dearly before this whole mess had started, but he couldn't go against his Father's will. He was a sheep, following the Shepherd, though that might mean he was blind.

A fact which he was starting to realize as he stood in the field.

There was the all too familiar sound of fluttering wings behind him, and he turned around, attempting to mask his surprise at seeing Castiel there, regarding him with a strange sort of half-smirk.

"Castiel." He said, deadpanning. He wasn't sure whether he should be angry or not at the sight of the younger angel who had betrayed him and God. He had never been particularly close to Castiel, him being a minor angel in a small garrison. Still, he was an angel of the Lord, and therefore family.

Castiel laughed once, humorlessly, "Michael...you would really mistake me for your lowly underling of a bother? Can't you feel my Presence?"

Michael blinked, noticing for the first time the feeling, the pure energy rolling in almost tangible waves off of Castiel's body, and he suddenly understood. He couldn't prevent his jaw from going just a bit slack.

"Father..." he whispered, full of awe. He hadn't heard from or seen God in centuries, maybe even Millennia.

"Hello Michael. My son." God replied, smile widening. He stepped forward, reaching out to put a hand on the archangel's shoulder. He frowned when Michael stepped back, face serious and a little cold. "Why Michael, is that any way to greet me?"

"I don't know, father. After all you've put me through, how should I greet you?" Michael replied, gaze mistrustful. After he had gotten over the initial surprise of his father being there, he was less than happy to see him. "I had some time to think while you let me rot in that cage with the brother you trained me to despise. I'm not sure you are as all-knowing as I once thought you to be."

God cocked his head to the side, in a similar fashion to what Castiel used to do when confused. However, his expression was one of pity rather than confusion, though the emotion didn't reach his eyes. In fact, no emotions were reaching those cold orbs. It was almost the exact opposite of Castiel, who had never really gotten the hang of facial expressions, but could always be read through by looking at his eyes.

"My son...my most loyal child...how I've feared hearing those words from you." God heaved a sigh, turning his head to the side to look out over the rest of the field. "But I am not to blame for your terrible misfortune. I promise you, I would not have wished the weight you bear upon anyone. Least of all one of my children. I really do love you, all of you." His words were met with a moment of silence.

"...is that what you told Lucifer?" Michael asked quietly.

"Michael, I had no choice but to throw Lucifer into Hell."

"What do you mean?" the archangel asked, brow furrowed.

"I mean Lucifer made a mistake. And if mistakes to unpunished, if disobedience is allowed once, then what? Chaos would reign. He had to be cast down for the sake of heavenly order. Would you attempt to argue with Fate?" Even when God said this, Michael was skeptical.

"And what of the Apocalypse? Wasn't that supposedly fated as well?" he asked. God nodded.

"Indeed. And that is why I need you. The Winchesters dared to trap you both in Hell, to try and stop the inevitable. That is why I must intervene and set things right."

But Michael shook his head. Fate be damned, he did not want to have to keep confronting Lucifer on the whim of a father who had abandoned them all for so long.

"I cannot fight. Not again. I have been through this too many times already. I will not betray Lucifer again."

"My poor child," God said, smiling sadly, expression returning to pity, "Lucifer has already betrayed you." The deity knew he was on the right track when Michael's eyes widened. He smiled internally. So close...

"What?" the archangel's voice was little more than a whisper. God nodded.

"He has already allied himself with the very Hunters that threw you down into the pit. Allied against you, and against me. He is planning your demise as we speak."

"How do I know you're not lying to me?" Michael accused, still defiant although his certainty was wavering. God stepped forward, the pitying expression returning to his face. He reached out again, and although Michael didn't look comfortable with the contact, he didn't pull away again.

"Look at me, my son. Look at me and know that what I say is the truth." Again, Michael was hesitant to make contact, even if it wasn't physical, but he reluctantly met his father's gaze. It almost made him shudder. Again, although he had never had much contact with Castiel in heaven, and had only seen him once on earth in his vessel, there was such a powerful difference between the angel's soft blue irises and the Creator's icy grey that he almost had to drop his gaze again. It was almost painful to delve into the mind of his father, like his Grace and mind were being burned in the white-hot power. But he grit his vessel's teeth and forced himself through it, sifting through the mind and memories presented before him to know the truth.

He withdrew, resigned. His father had spoken the truth. He would have to fight then, if just to survive.

"Do you see now?" God asked, and he nodded, scowling at the grass around their feet. He looked almost like a pouting child.

"Yes father. I must fight." He said.

God smiled to himself. His children were so easy to fool.

"Michael." Raphael drew his sibling's attention by calling out to him, and the elder archangel turned around. He was still standing in the field, though his father had since left.

"Brother. Or is it sister now?" Was the reply.

Raphael shrugged, "I suppose sister would be best." She had, after all, taken two female vessels in a row. Though that didn't seem quite enough to signify a preference, she felt…more comfortable…in these bodies than she had in her first. That comfort was relative, however, as she still felt the urge to burst from her mortal shell, from the physical restraints confining her to the physical world.

Raphael paused for a moment, unsure how to continue speaking to her oldest sibling. She knew what she had to say, but not precisely how. Michael had been in Hell when she had been murdered, so he didn't know about the incident. Raphael, herself, had been killed before God revealed His part in the homicide. It had taken a few moments for her to piece together the truth after her resurrection.

"Where is Lucifer?" she asked. It was as good a place as any to start. Michael shook his head.

"We cannot reach him where he is. He and Gabriel are plotting against me and against Father." He said.

When Michael had looked into God's mind and seen Gabriel's betrayal as well, seen that he was also working with Lucifer and the Winchesters, he had been filled with a crushing sadness. Gabriel had never really been all that close to Michael, the two being so drastically different, but Michael still felt a certain amount of compassion towards his fellow archangel, his brother. Apparently that compassion was not returned. Though he had never thought that Gabriel would ever side with Lucifer...

Raphael might be the only one to sympathize with him, and although he desperately wanted to avoid dragging anyone else into this, he knew he would probably have to in order to prevent the Devil from winning.

"Michael, what has Father said to you?" Raphael asked, poorly masked urgency in her tone. Michael blinked, uneasy now.

"Why? What's the matter?" he asked.

"I would be wary of anything he's told you." Rafael said bluntly. Michael stepped forward, closing the distance between them even more.

"Sister," he said, the urgency now present in his voice, "what has happened?"

The younger archangel made to reply, to tell him of her murder at the hands of their Father, that perhaps associating with Him would be dangerous, but was cut off before she could say anything.

"There you are Raphael. I've been expecting you."

Rafael turned around, seeing Castiel—who was not Castiel at the moment—standing there, smiling at her.

"Father," she said, sounding surprised although she had been suspecting that God would eventually find her. Like he had with Michael, God stepped forward, reaching out to touch his child, and although she greatly desired to, Raphael found herself unable to pull away. Her Father's stolen fingers gently touched along her face, with tenderness similar to that of a lover. But she wouldn't focus on that creepy thought just then...

Then again, she didn't really seem to be able to focus on any thought just then. A kind of haze swept into her head, and she found herself unable to focus on anything at all. Her eyes glazed over and she felt like she was floating, not a thought or a care or a worry in the world. She didn't register the grin that spread across her Father's face, and with Raphael blocking Michael's view, neither did the other archangel.

When God let his hand drop again, and Raphael remained silent and unmoving, Michael's uneasiness grew.

"Raphael?" he said. Raphael turned around, and there was a kind of cloudy haze in her eyes for just a second, but when she blinked her vessel's eyes, it was gone.

"Yes Michael?" She replied. Michael looked at her for a moment before shaking his head.

"It...is nothing."

"Raphael, Michael. You must prepare yourselves. The Apocalypse must come to pass, and you two, as the last remaining faithful children of Heaven, must play your parts." God commanded. Raphael did not hesitate to nod.

"Yes father." She said, and Michael nodded as well, though more hesitantly. With the affirmation, God smiled, disappearing.

"Rafael, what were you going to tell me?" Michael asked as soon as their father had gone.

"Nothing of import Michael." Was the offhand reply. It couldn't have been that important if she couldn't even remember what it was that she was going to tell his brother. "Come, we should prepare."

Michael followed his sister, though his actions held less conviction. As unwilling as he had been before, a deep sense of unease had settled over him after this confusing meeting with Raphael. He couldn't help but wonder if this was the right thing to do.

A/N: I'm not sure how to feel about this chapter, considering that after writing it I'm actually beginning to feel sorry for the archangels. Even though they're all pretty much dicks. And then there's the matter of God being a manipulative bastard, but that's neither here nor there...

ANYWAY, just so it's clear: Michael was shown either VERY edited or selective memories to make it appear as though he would have to fight just to survive, or everything God showed him was a lie. He's God. He can do that. And then what happened with Raphael was that God basically removed her memories of being killed, so she has no reason to not follow God in his quest to restart the Apocalypse. He also may have edited Raphael's brain a little bit to make her extra-willing to help out. It's easier to manipulate her because she's a younger and less powerful archangel. Or at least that's how it works in THIS fanfiction. So there.

So here's your little peek into what's happening with God and the other archangels. And it's pretty safe to assume that most, if not all the lower-level angels are going to follow Michael with whatever he does, so...chalk that up in God's pro-Apocalypse army. Sucks for Team Free-Will, don't it? Ah well.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter! Next chapter is going to be INTENSELY LONG so...prepare yourselves. Jokers just started writing and...I guess she just never really stopped until she had like eight pages, so...yeah...