The team's been working around the clock to find a suitable vessel. Castiel's pretty sure they've struck gold.
"Michael? Seriously? Out of all the care facilities we've checked- all the potential vessels we had to choose from, all the countless keystrokes, and page turns, and the lucky winner's named Michael?" Mary asked, tone nothing if not incredulous.
"The improbability of it struck me just as hard, but I've vetted this case thoroughly and this Michael is looking... honestly perfect. In every way," Cas added in as earnest a voice as the angel possessed. Before continuing, if possible, with even more verve. "Rather tragic, I will admit, but he is a registered organ donor, has no immediate family ties, no inescapable debts, a clean record, no current significant other, and," Cas paused to turn his laptop around so that the other two could see the screen, "his brain was declared irreparably damaged two months ago and he has been in a persistent unresponsive state since. Official records state the opinion that there is no chance for recovery."
"That's great, Cas- or, horrible, actually, but what makes you think he's our guy? I mean, aside from meeting all our major criteria?" Sam asked as he gave the screen a hard looking over.
"Yeah, Castiel, we have at least five other candidates who match those exact same points," Mary pointed out in her ever reasonable way. "What's special about this one?"
Having everyone's attention, Cas held up and shook one finger, indicating there was more to the story. Then he reached over the laptop and pressed the space key, revealing an entire second page of medical information.
"Because," he started with a barely suppressed grin as his friend's crowded to take in the additional data, "when this Michael was first brought into this world, the doctors prepared his parents for the worst. He was dangerously small and delivered nowhere near the full gestation period."
"He was premature?" Mary asked, a look akin to sympathy coloring her eyes.
"Indeed," Cas confirmed with a nod. "So much so, in fact, that they declared it a miracle when Michael lived to see his first sunrise. Let alone to see the end of his first week. From there, he defied the odds, eventually being sent home with his parents thoroughly forewarned that he'd be a late bloomer and live a life plagued with ill health and limitations."
"So he grew up healthy and happy despite the early birth?" Sam asked, brows raised.
Cas nodded as the two Winchesters glanced up for confirmation. "And despite the doctors' assertions that it wasn't possible. In fact, they declared it a miracle when he spoke his first words, when he took his first steps, when he learned to ride a horse, and then when he graduated right in step with his peers."
"So his whole life has been one big miracle," Mary offered, expression impressed. "Up until the end, that is."
"That though, is perhaps the most telling miracle of all," Cas corrected in his most fervent tone yet.
"Ending up in the hospital was a miracle?" Sam asked, splitting his attention now between the text on the screen and the angel standing behind it.
"He was the lone survivor of a plane crash that claimed over a dozen victims. It was a miracle that the mountain rescue crew was able to evacuate him in time," Cas informed, pressing the space bar once more to reveal a picture of a press clipping confirming the story.
"Wow, that's just- Are you sure the kid's not cursed," Mary asked, face twisted by the gruesome news.
"That is the same question asked by survivors every day," Cas said with a nod. "For a blessing and a curse are often difficult to differentiate, on account of the circumstances surrounding them."
"Right, like, was it a curse that brought down the plane, or a miracle that kept him alive in spite of the fact that it went down," Sam posited, expression studious as this time he pushed the spacebar himself.
"Being an angel myself, I am privy to such knowledge, and it is my vocational opinion that this Michael is indeed blessed. And that he would welcome the chance to help two suffering a life of captivity to once again be free. He'd want to help our Michael, and he'd want to help Dean," Cas finished, looking both hunters in the eyes to be sure they grasped the depth of his certainty.
"Well, what've we got to lose?" Sam asked with a gesture toward the screen before him.
"Only the safety of the entire world," Mary offered, wry smirk making obvious her statement's jocular nature.
"Yes, we must take every precaution," Cas assured all the same. "I've been drawing up wardings and bindings and proofings, attempting to design a patchwork of complimenting blunting, suppressing, restraining, and obscuring sigils to be applied to whichever vessel was chosen. For, with the right combination applied just so, I believe that Michael's divine powers could be limited to only small, beneficial miracles and twists of fate... without his vessel feeling like it's a cage trying to crush the grace from him."
"That's a possibility?"
"That could happen?"
Asked two similarly shocked faces. So close together that Cas wasn't sure which had said which.
"Unfortunately, yes. Generally, the closer a particular warding or enchantment, the more it impinges upon or affects the intended target. Therefore, if a warding meant for a particular entity were buried in their very skin or even bones, it stands to reason that they'd be living in an uncomfortable situation. To say the least."
"Like a ghost forced to live in an iron box?" Sam asked, face a shade lighter than it had been moments earlier.
"Oh, god," Mary uttered, face similarly blanched.
"Perhaps, though I'd imagine the ghost would have a worse time of things than Michael possibly could," the angel assured.
"Is there any way we could help? Uh, some spell books we could dig up or..." Sam asked, petering to a stop when Cas leveled a regretful look his way.
"I'm afraid the level of spell work that it would require to actually improve this sort of mosaic is beyond any of our capabilities."
"Someone else then? You two know a witch, right? A good one? One who doesn't want all of us dead?" Mary queried with a hopeful sort of crease to her brow.
"You think she'd help?" Sam asked the angel in their midst.
"I'm not sure. After her run in with Lucifer, she may want nothing to do with another archangel," Cas reasoned, wishing he had something more helpful to say.
"Maybe we don't lead with that part? Mention the spellwork first and ease into the whole 'Michael' thing?" The tallest of the group suggested.
"A little tact can go a long way," Mary affirmed with an approving nod.
"Very well. Though, perhaps Sam should be the one to contact her. She likes him best," Cas informed when the mother directed a quizzical face his way.
"I don't know, Cas, I'm pretty sure she's had a soft spot for Dean ever since we had her, uh, keep an eye on him... that one time," the brother argued, for some reason alluding to the incident rather than naming it outright.
"What 'time' was that?" Asked Mary, eyes suspicious as they cut from her son to her angelic coworker.
"Uh, no-nothing important, it- It was a while ago?" Sam's voice fizzled out when the woman's look only hardened.
"How long a 'while ago'?" Mary demanded, eyes narrowed.
"Approximately two years ago. Dean was hit with some 'bad juju' and nearly lost his memories as well as his sense of self-identity," Cas explained, hoping to appease the disgruntled woman.
"...And when was I going to hear about this?" Asked the now clearly affronted hunter.
"Uh, Dean didn't want you to worry?" Informed an uncomfortable Sam, squirming just a bit under the balefully maternal look Mary was bearing down upon him.
"I'm his mother; it's my job to worry," the woman insisted, displeased face intact as she took a step forward. "Is there anything else the two of you've gotten up to that I should know about?"
Sam responded by taking a halting half step backward and raising his hands in a placating sort of motion.
"Mary," Castiel said, hoping to break the mother from her anger, "Sam and Dean have saved countless lives and indeed the world itself more times than any history book will ever acknowledge. Unfortunately, in so doing, they have suffered many hardships and lost many friends. Myself among them. I'm sure you understand how difficult talking about such things can be. No matter how much time has passed."
The last of the rankled parental instincts bled out of the senior Winchester as she stared at Castiel.
When she looked back to Sam, Cas was relieved to see her eyes held an apology.
"Was Dean the only one hit with that 'bad juju'?"
"Yeah," Sam said, looking as if he'd just dodged a bullet. "Good thing too, because that hex worked a little too well."
"And far too fast," Cas added.
"Well, I'm glad the three of you came out of it alright, but... you know you can count on me, right, Sam?" The smaller hunter asked, apologetic look deepening. "To be there with a machete or a blowtorch or even a friendly ear? You don't need to hide things from me; I'm your-"
"You're our mom, Mom," Sam supplied, expression soft and wistful, almost as if he couldn't believe the words himself. "It's just... I'd never had a mom before Amara brought you back."
Castiel almost couldn't comprehend the look that overtook Mary's face at the words. The depth of regret and sadness that sprang to life there.
In that moment, for the first time in quite a while, Cas felt as if he was intruding on something private. Doubly so when the two came together for a teary eyed hug.
He was reminded though when the mother and son motioned for him to join them that they themselves did indeed consider him a part of their family.
The sentiment nearly made his own eyes water.
The way the circle of arms accepted him when he walked up close, without a hint of reservation, did.
It was nearly a minute before a one of them spoke.
"Alright," began a Sam whose head was rested snug atop those of his huddled team, "I think it's time to make that call."
"Agreed," mumbled a Cas surprised by how rough his voice had grown, clearing his throat as the three pulled away from one another.
"The sooner the better," affirmed a Mary running a quick, moisture wicking finger under each averted eye.
"Well, good thing I've got her on speed dial," assured Sam as he pulled his cellphone from its resting place. "With any luck, she'll be here by tomorrow."
The group held a collective breath as a single motion had the number dialed automatically. Speakerphone was selected with one more motion and every shoulder tensed as ring followed ring. Finally, the other end was picked up and a cheery, accented voice at once filtered through the speaker.
"Samuel, it's been far too long, dear."
Woah, The Winchesters reaching out for help when they really need it? Sounds like this family's starting to get the hang of having friends!