AN: *runs away and hides*
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
It was a week before anything else happened on the Lucifer front. A week of hunting two ghosts and a werewolf. A week of a strange shift in Dean's attitude towards Rose. At least, that was how it seemed to Sam. The middle Winchester watched in shock when Dean, instead of turning to Sam when he got too tired to drive, offered the keys to Rose. She looked as surprised as Sam felt, but smiled and said nothing, even leaving in Dean's Zeppelin tape.
It was as if Rose's outburst had done for Dean what her going to Hell had done for Sam; made him face the fact that she was growing up.
The Winchesters finally fell asleep near dawn, dirt and werewolf blood circling down the drain. Dean had passed out, having gotten redressed after his shower-even putting on boots-just in case something happened, on his usual bed nearest the door. On, not in; he had not even bothered to pull up the covers. Rose had barely done any better, taking the time to change into one of Sam's old t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants cut off mid-thigh, then climbing beneath the covers of a rollaway bed. She forgot to get a pillow off of one of the two main beds.
Sam was left to double check the salt lines and the locks. He placed Dean's leather jacket over him and carefully slid a pillow under Rose's head, smiling softly at the snuffling noise she made. He slid between his own sheets and joined his siblings in dreamland.
Literally.
Dean was sitting in a plush chair, the only audience member in a room with a stage on the floor and pornographic illustrations on the wall. Warrant's Cherry Pie was blaring from unseen speakers. On the stage, a blonde wearing skimpy, white lingerie and fluffy angel wings was dancing seductively with a brunette wearing skimpy red lingerie and devil horns.
"This is what I call peace on Earth," Dean said, leaning forward to get a better look.
It looked like the lingerie was about to come off when Rose appeared to the left of the stage. Nothing killed the mood like a little sister in the Scooby-Doo pajamas she used to wear when she was five.
"Uhm," Dean articulated, giving the strippers a guilty look.
"Seriously, Dean," she said, as unfazed as it was possible to be then writhing strippers were trying to give her brother a lap dance. "Are you confusing reality and porn again?"
"What are you doing in my dream?" He finally managed to ask. The strippers finally disappeared. He was both relieved and irritated. "Is this some new, Jedi mind-power of yours?"
"I was dreaming about fishing," Rose retorted, padding over barefoot to sit in the chair next to Dean.
He snorted. "Since when do you fish?"
"Dreaming"
"Whoa," Sam said from behind them. He took a seat next to Rose and started using his teeth to undo the Velcro of his boxing gloves.
"Am I the only person seriously disconcerted by this?" Rose asked, looking at the bruise forming over Sam's left eye.
"One of us is just having a very weird, lifelike, incredibly vivid dream." Dean was trying to be reassuring, but the result was that he had talked himself out of believing it.
Just then, a good-looking man in his early twenties with dirty blonde hair, brown eyes and a Marine's dress uniform walked through a door that had appeared in the middle of nowhere.
"He one of yours?" Dean asked, nudging his sister.
"No." I was dreaming about my-Castiel. And fishing.
"Yours then, Sammy?" He teased his brother. "I knew it."
Sam hit him hard on the shoulder. Apparently the dreaming boxing practice was helping because it hurt.
The Marine smiled. "I can see why Castiel likes you; you're funny."
"Who are you?" The laughter in Dean's voice was gone, replaced by suspicion.
"I'm an angel," the Marine answered. "Sorry about all of this, but this is the only way I can talk to you."
All three Winchesters had tensed when he announced his identity. "We don't have anything to say to you," Dean gritted through clenched teeth.
"Then just listen." The angel pulled up a chair that had appeared as suddenly as the door. "First off, I wanted to apologize. Zachariah and Uriel completely overstepped their authority."
Dean snorted. "Yeah, maybe you should have made it clear in the company bylaws. Starting the Apocalypse is absolutely not okay. Maybe send out a memo or two-"
"Dean," the angel sounded tired, like a parent telling something to a stubborn child. "For once in your life, shut up and listen."
"You're Michael, aren't you?" Sam asked quietly, something like awe in his voice. "The archangel, patron saint of soldiers."
Michael smiled. "They told me that you were the smart one. Yes, I am Michael."
"Okay, we're done here." Dean stood; Rose was not sure where he thought he was going to go considering this was all in a dream anyway.
"Dean." Michael's voice got very low, lower than Castiel's. It reverberated around the room, making every chair but his own quiver. "Sit your ass down." He made a jerking motion with his hand and Dean's butt hit the floor. He looked more stunned than hurt.
Michael nodded in satisfaction. "That's better." He leant forward in his chair, eyes beseeching, intense in that way that set Castiel apart from normal humans. "I will admit to making mistakes. Uriel has fought with me many times over many centuries. We were brothers. I would have died for him; I thought…" He trailed off, and his smile was tired. "That doesn't matter now. Believe me, though, I never wanted Lucifer free."
"Way to drop the ball on that one," Dean mumbled.
Lightning flashed across the archangel's face and the Winchesters all tensed, expecting some heavenly wrath. But Michael took a deep breath and the anger gave way to a rueful grin. "I know. And now I need your help to fix it. Zachariah may have been misguided-and he has been punished, severely, for what he has done-but he was correct in one regard. You are my true vessel, Dean. Only with you can I defeat Lucifer.
"And destroy the world to do it," Dean retorted. "Sounds like you want everybody to pay for your mistake. Oh, wait, let me guess, you just see guilt, pain, and suffering." He repeated off Zachariah's list and pretended not to be scared when the archangel stood.
"Don't you dare claim to know what I feel or see," His voice carried more power than anything Rose had ever felt, rattling windows and knocking the kama sutra illustrations off of the walls. "I am the leader of the Heavenly Host. I have been protecting mankind since its creation against creatures you have not imagined in your darkest nightmares. I weigh souls in judgment, hear the pleading and the crying. I—"
He stopped himself and seemed to deflate back down to normal. "I don't want to fight my little brother, Dean." (It was startling to hear Lucifer referred to in that soft of a tone) "But I cannot let him win. Trust me, it will be worse for humanity than getting caught in the crossfire."
Michael resumed his seat. It was strange how none of the angels slouched. He looked at Dean, something hard around his eyes, something old and tired. Even though she was afraid of him, Rose felt sorry for him. She was beginning to see similarities between the archangel and her oldest brother.
"Tell, me, Dean, as you rush in so quickly to condemn me." Dean had the grace to look a little abashed. "What else would you have me do?"
There was a long pause while Dean bit his lip. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "But I have to look for other options."
"I pray you find it." Michael's mouth twisted into something harsh. "But I haven't had a prayer answered in a long time. I cannot wait around for you to decide what to do."
Rose and Sam both leaned protectively toward their brother. "What are you going to do?" Sam asked.
Michael noticed Sam and Rose's posture and smiled. "I'm not going to force Dean into accepting. It has to be his choice entirely. But I can show you…" He made eye contact with all of the Winchesters. "Dark things are already happening; you need to understand—You. Don't. Have. Time. To look for more options. I can prove it."
Abruptly, Dean and Sam woke up, hearts racing in their ears. Over the drumming of their pulses, they could hear whimpering. They rolled over simultaneously to see their sister still asleep. Her brow furrowed, small, pained noises escaping from her throat.
Dean dropped to the floor and tried to shake her awake. "Michael let her go, you bastard!"
He had to duck to avoid her hand as she sat bolt upright. "Are you okay?"
"No, no I'm not." She swung out of bed and rummaged through her bag. "I need, we gotta call Bobby or Cas or…somebody."
Sam approached her slowly, putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her around. "What is going on?"
"I don't know." She shook her head, eyes a little wild. "But it's bad. People are going to die."
AN2: I thought that Michael should not be a douche. So… He isn't in my story. lol