Dean remained sitting there...motionless. The shock hadn't worn off. The empty hallway seemed to close in on him and all he could really hear was the steady drip of water that came from the hallway doorhandles getting wet from the puddles on the floor and dripping back down on them.
Balthazar's blood was everywhere where he had disappeared. The red tainted everything like a great splash of paint. He wanted to rid himself of the sight, but he found he couldn't look away from it. The demon was never really fond of Balthazar to begin with. They seemed to share a mutual dislike for one another the moment they made contact. For whatever reason, it was always there.
He still didn't deserve to die. Not like that. Not by her.
For a person that Dean had literally just met, Metatron was quickly becoming one of his worst enemies.
And he couldn't get Castiel's face out of his mind. The face that haunted him. So serene. So accepting. Like he was ready to face his fate with his sword drawn and ready. It couldn't be this way. It couldn't end this way.
Cas was right. It was always took just one. It went from Raphael, to Lucifer, to Dante, to himself...now Metatron. The cycle that had been going round and round since the day they met. He had brought Castiel into his world of chaos and destruction since the moment they met. He had taken everything from him and Castiel had done it, willingly. His faith, his place in Heaven, his men...his best friend. No, no one could deny that it wasn't he who caused Balthazar's death. As surely as he had stabbed him himself.
He didn't even feel when Carmen approached, so lost in his own mind and inner turmoil that he barely responded when her hand came down on his shoulder.
"Dean," She spoke in gentle tones, kneeling down beside him. "Are you all right?"
"Michael's dead. So is Balthazar," said Dean, turning only slightly at her touch. "Metatron came. Captured Dante and...Castiel...Cas pushed me out of the way."
"And they're gone," said Carmen, glancing up at the ceiling. She took a moment. A lump appeared in her throat and she attempted to swallow the tears she felt for Michael and Balthazar both. Her friends...her family. "I'm so sorry, Dean."
Dean closed in his eyes in response. He looked so tired, even from the side. Physically, Dean should not have gone past his late twenties or late thirties, but Carmen could have sworn he looked almost fifty or sixty. More like Michael than he ever had.
"It's not a fight we can win," said Dean in a low whisper.
"Don't say that," said Carmen. "We're going to get him back. We're going to find a way. I know we will."
Dean shook his head slowly. "...It's not that simple. Light...Heaven...It'll burn us as soon as we clear the gate...and there's no dimensional door that travels there. It's impossible."
"So you're giving up? Just like that?" Carmen asked. "Dean...You've never given up. You've always taken the big risk no matter who got hurt in the process. That's your nature. Why stop now? You said it yourself, you survive."
"Not this time, Carmen," said Dean, standing up. "He's in a realm I can't breach. Not without either of us dying. And we don't have an angel we trust enough to get us there and do the dirty work. It's over, Carmen. We lost. I may always take the big risk...but a king knows when he's beaten...and she's got a one-up on me...It's about time someone did."
He began to turn around and stopped short at the sight of Sam and Jessica waiting for him at the end of the hallway.
All of a sudden his throat seemed to tighten. The sight of blood must have obviously thrown them off. As Sam began to approach, Dean stepped forward directly in his line of sight.
"What happened," Sam asked in a flat voice.
"Sam...Not now," said Dean in warning, passing him by.
"No. Now," Sam replied angrily, grabbing Dean's arm and yanking him back. "Don't be a jerk. Where is everyone?"
"Don't be a bitch," Dean retorted. "Everyone's fucking dead, Sam. This is your reality. This is the world you've become part of. It's not balancing your checkbook, doing your taxes...dealing with a flat tire. It's dealing with a goddamn apocalypse, every waking moment of every day. That's your life, Sam. That's my life. That's their life. That's everyone. There's no human fabrication we can cling to this time. It's the truth."
"Dean," Sam began bracingly, working to recapture his wrists as he fought him. "Dean, you're my brother and I-"
"I am not your brother," said Dean through his teeth in a sharp voice. His eyes swiveled around, refusing to focus on anything, bright as they ever were. "...I don't have any family. I don't... have... anything. Now...if you'll excuse me...Heh...Hehehehehe...I need to bury my father."
Without another word, the demon stalked off down the hall until he was out of sight after cutting a corner leaving Sam and Jessica staring after him.
"Don't concern yourself with him," said Carmen, slowly approaching. "...He's just...mourning...I guess. In his way."
Sam shut his eyes tight for a moment and then briefly pinched the bridge of his nose. "...Is...Is it true...Is John dead?"
"So he says...I don't...I didn't," Carmen stumbled over her words, clearing her throat. "I didn't see it...But I just found him here...alone. He says Balthazar and Michael were..."
Sam trembled a bit in response.
"...and Metatron took Dante and Cas. Cas got Dean out," Carmen finished with the obvious inclination to get it out as fast as she could.
"Of course he did," Jessica interjected, crossing her arms. "Of course."
Carmen flashed a cold look at her. " Look Princess. You're not very well informed on the situation so why don't you back off?"
"I'm informed on the situation. More than you think,"said Jessica scathingly. "I know for a fact that that guy? You know the one that basically forsook even you as family? He's the one who did all this."
"In case you weren't paying attention, sweetheart...I said it was Metatron who-"
"I know who you said," Jessica interrupted. "But that doesn't matter. You dragged us out of our lives. The peaceful start that Balthazar made for us. You dragged us back here to help him...and now Balthazar is dead so is his Father." Jessica pointed at Sam.
Sam rubbed his temple with two fingers. "Jess."
"No, Sam. Don't act like it's nothing. Or it's not a big deal. He's the only Father you ever knew in your entire life and he was stolen from you because of him. He's right, Sam. He's right. You're not...his brother. A brother wouldn't do this to you."
"Jess, please," said Sam exasperatedly. "I'm not...blaming Dean for all this."
"He has taken everything from you, Sam," said Jessica, her voice breaking slightly. "He died...and everyone wanted to get him back...So they took you from me...They killed you. Made you one of them...and then they...they lied to you. Made you believe in a life that didn't happen...but the only good thing that came from it...was that you had a family for a while...And now his actions took away your father and he even just took himself out...How can you forgive him for all of this?"
"Because...," Sam worked to make his voice sound collected. "...Because I still think he's family. Even if he doesn't feel the same way. I love him like a brother. I don't regret coming here, Jess. I helped him. I wanted to see him again. That was the point."
Jessica sighed. "You're naive, Sam. It doesn't work like that. He's right. It's not about the trivial things life has to offer...He's more than that...He is. Even I can admit that. He's too much to handle, Sam."
"Jess, what are you even getting at?" Sam asked.
"I'm saying let him go, Sam. The next time they come to our home...We slam the door in their face. You've lost enough...There is nothing else to lose now," said Jessica imploringly.
" 'Scuse me," said Carmen, raising her hand. "Do I count as they in this...? Should I actually be leaving for this lovers' quarrel?"
"Don't bother," Sam snapped, turning around and beginning to walk. "I'm leaving. I can't handle this right now."
"Sam...Where are you going?" Jessica called after him.
"I'm going home," Sam responded without looking back. "I've had enough."
Sam went down the same hallway, his fingers pressed in his eyes as he followed the same path that Dean did on the way out.
Paradise Rock - Cemetery
The rest of the night passed like nothing. Of course Dean was alone now. It took almost all morning to place Michael in a grave at the Paradise Rock Cemetery. It was poetic to place him here. Paradise Rock, after all, was the place where Lucifer was cast down. In essence, it was the place that Michael had struck down his brother and cast him down to Earth and where he fell, Hell was created.
It was a good place for Michael to be buried. At least Dean thought so.
All manual labor. He dug through the rain soaked mud with his bare hands, removing his jacket, getting dirt and grass all over himself. No one bothered him. Probably because no one came here at this dead hour in the morning. When he finally counted the feet at six by himself, he stopped and climbed out of the grave, dragging Michael's body into the hole and lifting clumps of dirt through telekinesis to bury him deep.
He engraved it himself on a piss poor headstone that he had pulled off a far off gravesite. An angel. Fitting, wasn't it?
John Michael Winchester
Beloved General, Beloved Father
It fit him solely because it was what Michael prioritized, obviously. The angels may have been the ones to end his life...but it was them that Michael put above all. It was them that Michael chose. There was so many opportunities that Michael had...to save Dean from the life he had with Lucifer.
Lucifer, the Father who actually raised him. The father that he despised. There had always been a love-hate situation going on there. Lucifer was the only one he knew, and he cared for him on that basis alone...but he never agreed with his methods or his beliefs...even though everyone who was everyone had said in the recent days, he was turning into the Lucifer replica.
Michael had lied to him. Created a life that he believed in as a human. It was easy to delve into the belief that it was real...that all those memories he had as Dean Winchester were real.
Except he wasn't...Dean Winchester. He was the King of Hell. Just Dean.
But a powerless King. No one could be proud of. Not Michael. Not Gabriel. Not Lucifer.
Perhaps he was purposely thinking down on Michael. Even when they had spent time together in Treachery...There was always strife there. Maybe if things had begun differently...If Michael's falsified human life was what happened. Dean would never have been lived as a demon. He would never have delved into the dark part of his life. He would have been a demon hunter...like Michael obviously wanted.
Maybe if things had turned out that way, maybe he would have found it in himself to forgive him.
Cas was right. He was selfish. It really was...easier...to suppress these things.
Dean heard the footsteps behind him, but he didn't turn. He kept staring at the headstone, reading the words back at him, telling him who was buried under. So few people would know as they passed this place...that the Archangel Michael was buried here...like some kind of commoner. The irony...
But he brought himself back down to present day.
"...I expected Sam. Not his spiteful girlfriend," said Dean in a calm voice.
"Sam went home with Carmen's escort," said Jessica. "I don't think he's ready to face the fact that his Father is in the ground...You, on the other hand. It must be easier for you to face it. To take...responsibility for your actions."
Dean chuckled without humor. "If you're here to take a swing at me, Jessica Moore...You can just step into the queue. We'll be right with you. The woes of a six-year old pixie are the least of my problems right now."
"Oh, you're a busy busy man...You must have an entire itinerary planned for the rest of the day. Starting with screwing up someone else's life...or furthering in some progress you've already made," said Jessica coldly.
Surprised by the venom in her tone, Dean glanced her way, then turned around fully, a strange smile playing on his face. "Cute. I don't have anything planned as it is...screwing other people aside. "
"I'm not surprised," Jessica admitted. "You've basically alienated everyone in your life who cares for you. And they do...Dean. You should know that."
"Look, Jessica. Like I said get in line if you're looking to take a swing. Because I really...don't have time for you right now," said Dean.
"It's Sam," said Jessica, and she glanced down at her feet. "...I...He...said something in the gym."
"What, that you're an overprotective, possessive bitch? Kudos to him. 'Bout time Sammy grew some balls," said Dean, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out cigarettes. Dante's brand. Ones he pickpocketed from the Fallen just before they busted through the door in the boiler room. He stuck one between his teeth.
Jessica took one step towards him, right in his face. "...You and I both know that I'm the best thing that ever happened to him. And you...You're the worst."
Dean's eyes flashed an almost red color and his jaw tightened. "...Is that right."
"That's right," Jessica replied firmly.
"Look, Jess. You've known me...all of what...fifteen minutes? Including now, the school and the time in Chicago? You don't know me. So don't judge me."
"I could know you in five. It just takes that long," said Jessica. And when he raised his eyebrows, she hissed. "I mean in your presence. I can feel it, all right? I don't have to be...a demon...or an angel...to feel that. I can..." Her pause became more pronounced. She cleared her throat. "... I can feel it in your kiss. And I could feel it...twice. It's like fire. Like fire that burns and burns...and never goes out. Passion...and strength..."
Dean's scowl shifted easily into a coy smile as he shifted towards her in a lean that looked like he had been pulled by gravitational force. He reached toward her and pulled lightly on a lock of her hair. " Ooh...Saucy...I could take you out of here, Jess. I could you take on a ride you'd never forget. I won't tell Sam... if you... won't tell Sam."
Jessica slapped his hand away and held fast onto his wrist to keep him from touching her any further. "No. Your fire is in you...I feel it...but there's also...rage. I could feel your anger...I still can."
"Mmm," said Dean complacently. "Stop it...all this praise is going to get me hard."
He had closed in enough to her lips, but she stopped just before they could make contact. "Your rage...killed...three million people."
Dean's eyes opened and he leaned back, pulling his hand away.
"You may have Sam fooled..wrapped under some misguided belief that you're brothers and that you love him as much as he loves you...but you don't fool me. I watched you kill my best friend. I watched you burn alive an angel, and I let you swear my soul to you...and then you killed everyone," Jessica searched his eyes to find something. There was nothing there...not even fire.
"I did...what I had to," said Dean slowly...but it sounded more like he was convincing himself just then.
"I am not asking you to recite what you plan to tell yourself in the mirror...Listen to me...Something's not right...Sammy...He...said something. In the gym to Balthazar just before he left to find you...He said to him, 'The dream dies with you, Balthazar.' And the next thing we know, Balthazar is killed...What does it mean?" Jessica took him by the shoulders, feeling heat transmit into her palms. "...I know you know."
Dean was a long time answering, staring back in her eyes. He looked so much like Michael and then not...There was no lying in Michael and with Dean it felt like all the secrets in the world were hidden in his mind. "...Sam was a vessel, Jessica. Then he was a demon, and then he turned back. There's bound to be some residual Will power there from that. He probably got momentary insight."
"Into the future?" Jessica glowered. "I doubt that."
"Well...at least you can make a decent living by making him a shaman," said Dean, patting her on the shoulder as he took a long drag out of his unused cigarette and started to walk away from her.
Jessica waited for a moment, looking down for a moment and sniffling. "...I want you to stay away from us."
Dean turned around very briefly. "You breached that contract already, Moore. Can't make the same deal twice."
"I'm not asking for one of your deals," said Jessica, walking towards him. "I'm asking for your word as a good man...or at least one you pretend to be."
Dean ran his hand through his hair with a free hand. "...Sam is-"
"Not your family, as you made clear back there. He doesn't mean anything to you so...this shouldn't be a problem."
Reinforced with steel barricades, Dean's walls were back. The only movement that occurred was the slight tightening of his eyes as he looked down at her. "Fine."
"Fine...?" She waited.
"Fine, I'll fuck off," said Dean in a hard voice. "You won't see me again. Ever. But. I have a condition."
"What's that?"
Dean brought up her hand level to his face and held her wrist between them. "Cut your wrist, the wrong way. Horizontal. Squeeze three drops out into a bowl of water and call my name. If something happens to him...anything...You let me know."
Jessica wrenched her hand away. "We can handle it. We can handle...down-to-earth problems. Trust me."
"Let's hope...that's all you have," said Dean.
Jessica gave him a long look, nodding slowly. He gave her a nod in return and she began to walk from him this time and he watched her go.
About fifteen feet away, she stopped. "By the way...You dropped this."
Jessica reached into her back pocket and tossed something white towards him. Dean caught it one hand and looked down at it. A folded envelope with his name written on it in cursive.
"In Chicago...I picked it up off you during our first...deal. It's from your Dad...maybe before you blame him for all your problems while he's lying in the ground...you should know a few things," said Jessica. She gave him a small wave as she resumed her walk.
Dean stared down at the letter for a long moment...and then he remembered.
"I've never been good at these things. This letter kind of expresses it a little more. I don't want you to read it unless I don't come back."
Right before "John" left with Castiel during the human time in Chicago and wasn't sure if he was going to make it back. He had given him this letter...The letter that Dean never managed to read. At the time, in his anger, he wanted to rip it apart and read it anyway...
And right now, he felt a strong desire to burn it in his hands.
But he opened it. The condition had passed. It was fair game to read it.
Dear Dean,
If you're reading this, son...Then I am dead. Perhaps by now, you've realized the truth in yourself and found your way again. Perhaps by now...You've come to realize the choices you have to make to shape the future.
You were always a special boy, Dean. Not affected by the words of others...or the rules. I could not change that or change you. Some may call it rebellious...and others may call it ambitious. I've viewed you different, perhaps I'm biased. You have something in you that has the power to change others, to persuade them. You're a natural leader...You were born that way.
It's this power that you have that is a burden. Because your choices can affect others in a way you didn't know possible. It's inherited. I would know. It is ultimately up to you to make the right choice in the end. You have the ability to be a good person, I know you do. Your heart is pure, Dean...Despite what others may feel, or what they may see. Despite what you even think of yourself.
I love you, more than words can say. I was a coward in my own choice for leaving you behind, for making the wrong choice. I chose something I can never take back. If I could go back and change it, I would...a thousand times. Because it was this choice I made that shaped you as well...just by not being there.
I want you to know that I would choose you.
I want you to know that you are my choice. Now and forever.
Take care, my boy. Take care of yourself. Take care of Sam...and always be the compassionate, loving soul that I know you can be.
Be strong. You always were so...strong. Even stronger than your old man.
Yours Truly,
Dad
Dean shaped his lower lip with a finger as he allowed the power of Michael's words on pen shift in his mind to speak in his very own voice, as if his Father was standing in front of him, saying the words out loud.
He closed his eyes and put the letter down taking one final drag off a completely ashed up cigarette before tossing it aside. Then his eyes went to the grave he had made on the other side, staring long and hard at Michael's name. He scoffed to himself and waved his hand over the view of the headstone so that the new letters appeared, brimming with a faint golden light.
In Loving Memory of Michael
"Hell has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal."
"Be seeing you, Dad," Dean pressed two fingers to his lips and closed his eyes. He felt brightness touch his eyelids. Dean opened them to find yesterday's storm clouds disperse and rays of sunshine wash over the entire graveyard. To some astonishment, he watched as a something began to take root above the angels' headstone. A tall tree, first the trunk...then the branches and then the leaves that were small in growth, blooming next to tiny pink cherry blossoms.
Dean smiled faintly to himself and began to walk away from the grave site, pressing two fingers to his temple as he focused.
AH...Jesus. You have not used this method of contact before, Dean. What is it?
Carmen's voice, clear as a bell in his head as he kept the Link between them clear with very little concentration.
"Meet me at the Paradise Rock Cemetery gates. We're leaving."
Seriously. I just made PB&J sandwiches. Just like when I was a kid. Guaranteed to cheer up any sad feels.
"Jessica's going to be there soon. She'll take care of him. Just be at the cemetery. You have five minutes."
Really? And where, pray tell are we going in such a hurry?
"We're going to breach Heaven," said Dean in a firm voice. "One way or another, we're going to do it. We're going to find a way. We're going to get Cas back."
There was a short silence.
...You're...sure about this? I mean...We're actually going to try to save them? What...What made you change your mind?
"Let's just say...I gained some clarity on the situation," said Dean, looking down at the letter in his hand. "...and I made a choice."