Sam groans awake. He fell asleep in the impala. It's not uncommon, in their long drives and searches for cases. The tension in the car is high. He wanted too find Lucifer, so did Castiel. To his surprise, Dean did not suggest just leaving Lucifer with Meg.

"You said we can stop the Apocalypse if we make good with Lucifer, right?" Dean tells him, but Sam is not convinced. Dean seems determined, too determined- like he is trying to make up for some wrong-doing. Sam knows that look. The Motel room is bland like every other Motel room they have been in. The Hunters charges in, guns pointed at the brothers, backing them against the wall.

"You don't have to do this." Sam pleads as they fire off accusation after accusation, blaming him for the plagues and rains of fire and destruction and deaths.

"These Demons told us that you raised their big daddy out of his cage." They say. Lucifer is not doing this. Sam wants to argue- it took three bullets. He falls to the bed, the searing pain of the gunshots washed away by the blood leaking out of his body. He can feel himself floating, reaching upwards, seeing light. Dean shouts at him from the background, voice nothing but fuzzy static.

More gunshots. Sam finds himself out of the street. The night before he left for Stanford. Freedom, he thought, relief and exhilaration coursing through his body. Free, for the first time. No longer tethered to the revenge driven mission his father and brother pushed him upon.

Dean finds himself by six gates, each leading on to an expanse of blue skies and golden clouds. This is Heaven, he thinks. This is Heaven and he is dead, dead before they could find Lucifer and Meg and stop the Apocalypse. He walks through the gate, the one by the center gate. This gate is golden, liquid fire reaching up to the skies in spirals of red flames. The fire cracks beneath his skin, beneath his eyes. Dean walks through, unharmed.

Angels around him sings in Enochian, Michael, they cry, Michael, the sword has returned and Dean knows.

He is Dean Winchester. He has spent thirty odd years as Dean Winchester. His father is John Winchester, and his younger brother is Sam Winchester. His mother was killed by the yellow eyed demon Azazel. He likes pie and classic rock. He likes to drink and he is a hunter. He is the righteous man.

His name is Michael. He is an Archangel. He was alive ever since his father first created him at the dawn of time, before direction was ever made in the void that became the universes. He has countless brothers, and one that burnt the brightest was Samael, who now called himself Lucifer. The Light Bringer, the Morning Star.

He burns cold and Michael burns hot and one day they will destroy each other, for it was prophesied, for it was the will of his father and Michael is the good son, the righteous one and Michael will carry out his will. Lucifer needs to die, Michael thinks.

But he does not have his memories, Dean tells himself. People can change. Lucifer did change. Lucifer is the one who rebelled, who sparked the first wall and incited their father's incredible rage that silenced Heaven's songs for eons.

Lucifer is the one who wear's Sam's clothes and likes fancy drinks and is a sad drunk who tells bad jokes.

The conflicting personalities screamed in Dean's mind, in Michael's mind, billions of years of knowledge and observation, of obedience, thirty years of truly living, of experiencing free will, of rebellion. Michael gasps in pain, clutching his head as the fire of his grace flares up inside his body, his body.

"Dean!" He hears a cry, and drops onto the ground, in the field outside the Motel room. Fourth of July, setting off fireworks with Sammy while dad worked a case. Disobeying a direct order.

"Why did you say yes, why?!" Castiel. His friend. His Angel- was shaking his shoulders, blue eyes wide and streaks of tears on his face. He grips Dean's shoulders. It did not hurt like it should, because Dean is Michael, and Michael is so much stronger than Castiel. Michael can make Castiel disappear into oblivion just like Raphael did that night Lucifer rose.

"Cas-" Dean holds onto the Angel, not knowing what to say. He pushes the turmoil of his conflicting thoughts to the back of his mind, focusing on Castiel instead. "It's just me, it's just Dean."

Castiel shakes his head, and Dean sees the sheer hopelessness in the younger Angel's eyes when he realized what Dean knows.

"Michael." He chokes out, voice hollow and broken and Dean wants to press his lips to his, so he can drown out the anguish, and tell Castiel that he is more than just Michael.

"Not just Michael." Dean presses his forehead against Castiel's, hand cupping the back of his neck and threads his fingers through his dark hair. "Not just Michael." Dean repeats, holding Castiel's gaze.

"Cas, please-" Castiel shakes his head, looking down. "Please don't tell Sammy." Dean begs. "Please."

Cas looks up. "Why would you still care about Sam? You are Michael." Castiel spits out his name like it's a curse, and Dean's heart hurts at the venom.

"That doesn't mean I'm not Dean." Castiel closes his eyes.

"Why?" He asks. Michael shakes his head. "I don't know, man. Believe me, Cas."

Castiel nods, bringing Dean and Sam back to the Motel room. Heaven will not let them die, not yet- not when they still believe them to be Michael and Lucifer's vessels, respectively.

"Hey Cas?" Sam drags Castiel out of the room, tugging on his arm. "I keep hearing something about Michael being back- is that true?"

"I do not know." Castiel lies. Dean is Michael and it hurts like betrayal, like a sword in his heart.

"Hey Cas! Sam!" Dean strides out.

"God does not wish to be involved." Castiel tells Dean, gauging his reaction, his heart thundering in his chest. If Dean still remembers being Michael, then-

"Oh." Dean smiles, a small false smile tugging at his lips. "I, uh, gotta talk to you, Cas." He grabs Castiel's arm and drags him off behind the impala.

"Please- don't tell Sam, Cas." Michael asks.

"You can kill me with a thought." Castiel replies, voice hard, betraying no emotion.

"I-"

"Good day, Michael." Castiel turns away, defiantly. If Michael wishes to destroy him he could just follow Castiel and do so.

"Cas! Come back here!" Dean yells, running after the Angel. Castiel disappears with a single beat of his wings. To the Mariana Trench, Michael senses. But he does not follow him.

"Cas!" He screams to the air, knowing that Castiel cannot hear him. Michael wants to scream out for him with his true voice. Sam catches up- Sam, his younger brother- the one Dean went to Hell, suffered for forty years for- Does being Michael erase all that?

"Come back here! We are a team, right?" Dean shouts, his voice hoarse and throat raw. His grace fixes the damage immediately and Dean hates himself for being Michael.

Hates the fact that he is the Archangel. Hates the way it creates a rift between him and Castiel, one that he is certain cannot be fixed.

"Cas! You promised! Team Free Will! You fucking promised!"