Skylar's eyes flew open and she sat up quickly, breathing heavy as a foreboding feeling coursed throughout her body.
A cold sweat had broken out all over her skin. She must have had a nightmare, though she couldn't recall what it had been about. Taking a deep breath, she ran a hand through her damp hair.
She reached towards Dean, desperate to feel his warmth. But she kept on reaching. He wasn't lying beside her.
The spot next to her was empty and cold. She turned around, expecting to see a light coming from the bathroom, but it was pitch black inside the motel room. Her body hummed, a dull ache throbbing between her legs, reminding her of the incredible night she had just shared with Dean. The clock on the nightstand read 4:26 in the morning. She couldn't have been asleep more than an hour, and already, she was alone.
Something must have happened for him to be gone. He must be in Sam's room. That was the only explanation.
Skylar reached over, clicking the lamp on, wincing at the brightness that instantly hurt her eyes. She was about to get out of bed and put on her clothes when she gasped audibly.
"Dean," she breathed, taking a moment to relax her racing heart. Sitting in a chair across the opposite wall, Dean sat, his legs crossed. He was drumming one finger against the arm rest, studying her intently. He wasn't answering her…just staring at her as if she were a complete stranger.
He cocked his head to the side, looking at her like he was really seeing her for the first time. But even more strange was the tie, vest, and cap that he wore. What the…?
"Dean?" she spoke again, moving to cover her bare chest with the sheet, clutching it tight against her as his gaze remained riveted. "What are you doing?"
Again, he failed to answer her. The unease she felt intensified.
"This isn't funny," she said, rolling her eyes at her husband's pathetic attempt at a "joke." While he thought he was funny, and most of the time he wasn't, it usually had to do with lame puns or something stupid like that.
Except one time, he did make an amusing "posse police" joke that she snorted at. It was totally inappropriate, she knew, but it had to do more with the face he made after, like he was the wittiest person ever. Sam looked at them both like they were the most idiotic pair alive, and maybe they were, but she didn't care. He was too damn cute sometimes for his own good.
But right now, he was doing little more than scaring the wits out of her. And that's when he finally chose to answer, his posture commanding and domineering.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice somewhat distant and unrecognizable as he spoke, filling the silent room with his low deep voice. She froze. He paused for a moment before his eyes flashed a glowing blue, a small smile etched into the corner of his mouth. "But Dean can't come to the phone right now."
Skylar eyes widened at the sight, gasping in shock and fear as the blood in her veins ran ice cold.
When she did make a sound, the resonate was unfamiliar to her own ears.
She screamed.
It was the kind of scream that you only heard in old timey horror flicks, and she could only envision how she looked. She imagined it was something like Fay Wray in the original King Kong movie (the drama was real). Dean had made her watch it when she was only nine years old because he was sick and tired of her 'girly shit,' as he put it. That was around the time he started getting her hooked on his taste in movies, music, and food.
She screamed so loud that her own ears began to ring. Still clutching the sheet to her chest, she bunched up the comforter along with it and tried to leap from the bed, bolting to the bathroom in pure terror as she struggled to wrap the bulky fabric around her body. She bumped into his foot as she scurried by, rounding the end of the bed. She must have jumped ten feet at the contact, doing a full 180 degree spin, but she kept moving towards the bathroom with her best effort, which was more than pathetic.
Once again, she was proving to be weak in the face of danger. What's new? Years spent hunting demons, ghosts, and every scary monster than went bump in the night, and something new always seemed to appear out of the darkness.
"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh…"
She was about to reach the bathroom door when her body hit something solid, causing to her stumble backwards several feet before a pair of strong arms reached out to steady her with ease. It was him. Two seconds ago, he was across the room and now he loomed over her like some serial killer or something.
"Ahhhhhhhh," she screamed again. "Sam!"
"Sh..sh…sh," he hushed calmly, the sound coming out smooth as silk. The bright blue gaze that illuminated the room only moments ago was now the endearing green of her husband's. But this wasn't her Dean. Not by a long shot. "No one can hear you. I've put everyone nearby to sleep, including Sam. I had a feeling you weren't going to – take this well."
She let out one last whimper, her body shaking from fear as his grip continued to hold her steady, though it wasn't painful. "Where's Dean?"
"He's tucked in here nice and tight; I assure you," he said, taking one of his hands from her upper arm and placing it against the solid chest which was eye level to her.
"You can't possess him," Skylar growled out between her clutched teeth. "The tattoo."
The thing before her chuckled, shaking his head in slight amusement before narrowing his eyes. "I'm no demon, sweet girl."
"Of course, you are! What else could you possibly be!?" she barked out, surprised by her own boldness. It had been ages since she'd talked to anyone like that, aside from Dean that is, and to be honest, it felt satisfying. And he could be something else besides a demon. A ghost maybe? A shapeshifter? A ghoul?
With a heavy sigh, he released his hold on her. She stumbled, but quickly recovered, relieved that he had let go. He turning towards the mirror to his left, his long fingers reaching up to fix the cap on his head before tugged on the white sleeves of his shirt as if the outfit he wore wasn't completely immaculate as is.
"If you think hard enough, I'm sure it will come to you."
Skylar gazed up at the man, and then at the door. She was completely naked, aside from the comforter wrapped around her body. But maybe she could make a run for it and call Bobby. He would know what to do.
"If you try to run, you'll only end up right back where you are."
She looked back at the man, and while fear had overtaken her moments ago, she was now angry. "So, if you aren't a demon…what are you?"
Turning to look at her as if she had completely lost her mind, he said, "you really have no idea who I am? Why is the thought so hard to comprehend? Denial perhaps?"
In that moment, his eyes flashed a brilliant blue once more, making her squint at the brightness. She froze.
No.
It couldn't be. He couldn't just…
"Michael?" she let out in a whisper, her breath leaving her completely as her gaze raked over him in disbelief.
He nodded in affirmation. "Ken. Ma Shimkha, Michael. Na'im me'od."
He spoke slowly in a foreign tongue as he backed away, his confidence on another level entirety.
Skylar shook her head vigorously, convinced this must be some kind of nightmare she was having. She pinched her arm, trying hard to wake herself up. "You can't be…you can only…Dean would never say to 'yes' to you."
She hated the sound of her own voice. The shock she felt was too much and her words were a jumbled mess.
"But he did, sweet girl," was all he said, bending down to retrieved John Winchester's journal that was sitting on top of Dean's duffle bag. He flipped through the pages indifferently, as if he already knew everything that was written down. Of course, he did. He was a freaking archangel. He was like…like…one step away from being God himself.
"He never mentioned speaking to you," Skylar breathed, feeling the life swiftly flow from her body. For the first time, it felt like it was truly over, everything they had worked so hard for, pointless.
"I didn't speak with him face to face on earth," Michael began his eyes still glued to the journal. "Because of Castiel, I couldn't find you. But then, Dean began wondering how he could save you. My name appeared in his head more often than not. I could have shown myself to him many times thus far if I so wished. But I waited, biding my time until he came to me with a genuine purpose. My time is too valuable to squander speaking to mere mortals on a personal level. That's what Zachariah and Castiel are for."
"Why would he come to you? We've been running from you," Skylar spoke through gritted teeth.
Michael lifted his gaze for the first time, his expression softening considerably. For a moment, he almost looked more human than angel, but it didn't last long. "Like father like son. John once said "yes" to me in order to save his Mary. And now, Dean did the exact same thing to save you. Why would that be so hard to comprehend?"
"He did this for me?" Skylar was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded. She stumbled forward, sitting down on the edge of the bed, her body shaking. Dean was gone…because of her? "Please. Bring him back. I'll do anything. Just give him back."
Cool fingers touched under her chin, lifting until her sad expression settled on his face.
That beautiful face that belonged Dean.
She hadn't known she was crying until he wiped away her tears, his brow furrowing in curiosity. "Why do you love this man so much?"
"W – what?" she asked in confusion. What kind of question was that?
"He's little more than a walking book of sin and anger. He's tried to corrupt you most of your life, and yet, you still find him to be entirely perfect. I can feel him on the inside, full of regret and anguish. He's damaged beyond repair, and yet…why?"
"Because he loves me," Skylar whispered, answering honestly with her heart, and without hesitation. "He would do anything for me. Even saying "yes" to you. He has his faults. But at the end of the day, I've never wanted for anything."
Michael bent down until his gaze was directed up at her, searching her eyes for something more. She held his intense stare despite the difficulty, but she refused to give in and back down. She had nothing to hide. She meant every word she said.
If Dean could be this brave for her, then she would do anything within her power to get him back from Michael's hold.
"You have no idea what kind of man Dean Winchester really is." A saddened look rested upon his face. "In due time, you will understand – when the time is right."
He turned her head to the side after this, lightly grazing a finger down the side of her cheek where a giant bruise covered one side. With two fingers, he pressed it against her skin, and instantly, the dull pain that had remained vanished. Every ache within her body was gone, including the bruises on her forearms.
Furthermore, the ache between her legs disappeared, too. She missed it the moment the throbbing stopped. But she didn't say anything. She loathed the angel in front of her despite only meeting him, but he took away her pain and the ugly blemishes. How could she be mad about that? It was something Castiel did often.
"Are you hungry?" Michael asked. The simple question took her off guard. The last thing she could think about was eating at a time like this. When she failed to answer, he continued. "The Pastilla in Morocco is exquisite. Or perhaps Paris? Barcelona?"
She rose her eyebrow in surprise. "You eat?"
He shrugged one shoulder, tossing the journal to the side that he had continued to hold onto. "That's one of the few pleasures humans can experience. I'm not hungry, no. But there's nothing wrong with a fine meal and glass of wine of occasion. So, sweet girl. What will it be?"
Hesitating, Skylar laid a hand on her abdomen. She couldn't just sit here and do nothing, because something told her that Michael had zero intention of letting Dean go. And she didn't have only herself to think about. She had the baby, too. She hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon. She finally spoke garnering a surprised look from Michael at her suggestion.
"There's a 24-hour diner on I-29."
Skylar took a bite of her pancakes, not realizing how hungry she had been until this very moment.
She was completely famished.
Maybe with some food on her stomach, she could come up with a plan that would satisfy everyone involved.
Across from her was Michael, an irritated look on his face as he stabbed a piece of sausage with his fork, lifting it up to inspect the meat as if it was the most disgusting thing in the world. Without taking a bite, he dropped his fork back down on his plate and looked around, clearly disinterested in what diner food had to offer.
Skylar couldn't understand his distaste. Sam was a total health nut, but he and Dean lived off the stuff most of the time.
To her surprise, he lifted the cup of coffee and took a sip, shuddering in the process. She couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.
If there were any truth to the rumors, he was heaven's deadliest weapon. He single handedly beat Lucifer until he was cast from heaven and thrown to earth where hell was created shortly after. He was a warrior in every sense of the word. She took in the sight of him, curiosity getting the best of her.
"Where did you get those clothes?" she asked, pointing at him with the end of her fork.
This brought his attention back to her as he reached up, fixing his jacket that he had placed on before zapping them five miles to the interstate. She could have driven Dean's car, but the angel didn't give her any time to suggest it before they were beamed elsewhere.
"Belgium," he replied. "1920."
"You bought that almost nine decades ago?" she asked.
"No, I got it while you were sleeping," he replied as if the answer was obvious. "People fancy t-shirts and washed out jeans in this godforsaken century. I'd never be caught dead wearing such attire."
Taking another bite of her pancake, Skylar nodded her head, not stopping the smile that formed.
"What?" he asked, surprised to see her mood lifted, she was sure.
"Nothing. I like it. It looksssss…distinguished," she said, surprising them both.
She shoved another spoonful into her mouth. Okay, small talk with Castiel was like pulling teeth. Small talk with Michael was like a slow burn. She wasn't sure if it would fizzle out or ignite into a full flame. One minute, he gave her more than she asked for, the next, he was indifferent.
At least with Castiel, you knew you were getting a robot with zero sense of humor.
"Thank you," he said, his jaw working in overtime at accepting the compliment.
"You're welcome."
Once again, they fell into awkward silence.
The hums of nearby patrons talking was the only sound heard at 5 am inside the diner. She breathed heavy, forcing herself to look at him once again, scared of the answers she might receive to her unasked questions. But if she didn't inquire about them, she would never have the answers she desperately sought.
"Am I going to die?"
Clearly, the question caught him off guard just as much as it did her. She couldn't believe that those words just came from her own lips. Before now, she didn't want to know the answer to that inevitable question.
"No, sweet girl," he replied, using that endearing nickname once again. It reminded her so much of Dean. "I promised him I would protect you. It's the only reason he gave himself over to me. What kind of angel would I be if I backed out of that promise and allowed you die?"
"Then how do we kill Lucifer?"
"We don't. I do."
"But…"
"I need you, it's true," Michael cut her off. "Without you, Lucifer cannot be put back into his cage. The earth was supposed to be finished, with only heaven and hell remaining. I need you to right a few wrongs. But you won't be sacrificed, I promise you this. As long as you're still breathing – the world cannot end."
Skylar took in his words, finding little comfort in what he was promising. It was all too much. If there was anything she had learned in the past several months, it was that angels can be just an untrustworthy as demons. Growing up, Dean had told her that angels didn't exist. She had no idea why he felt so strongly about that, but he had. Secretly, she had hoped he was wrong.
Her thoughts turned back to what he said. She was still needed, even if Michael no longer planned on seeing the apocalypse through. Lucifer still had to be put back into his cage, and she would have to be the one who opened the portal. That black void of nothingness flashed through her mind. She had come so close to dying. Right now, she should be in hell.
But here she was, pregnant and having breakfast with the most notorious angel to ever exist. Life was a never-ending rollercoaster ride, that was for sure.
"Can I ask you one more question?"
Michael gave one quick nod, waiting. "What did you mean when you said I had no idea what kind of man Dean really was?"
"I believe that's enough questions for today," he said quickly as he stood, leaving Skylar to follow. It was clear that he had no intention revisiting their previous conversation. But she swore that, as long as she was forced to endure Michael's company while her husband remained trapped inside, she would get to the bottom of…everything.
