Part Eight

"Who are you?"

"Michael."

"Okay...what are you? What do you want?

"I am an angel of the lord. More specifically, I am one of the four archangels of heaven."

Dean stilled, unsure if the man in front of him was joking or not. "You can't be serious," he said finally. Michael said nothing. Blue eyes stared back at him. The stillness unnerved Dean. "You can't expect me to believe you're an angel. There's no such thing."

"You're not a believer," Michael said. He took a step toward the hunter. Dean moved back, putting more distance between the strange man on instinct. He wasn't sure what Michael was exactly. The air was heavy and there was something about the man's presence that was oddly comforting, familiar. But Dean has never seen this man in his life and that was enough to ring the alarm bells in the back of his head.

"No. I don't believe in angels or in god. Just tell me what you really are and why I shouldn't gank you right now." It was said with a confidence he didn't feel. His heart was pounding loud and fast in his chest, and his hand was slowly inching down to where he kept his gun loaded with silver bullets. Dean didn't know what the hell this guy was but silver bullets, if they didn't outright kill the bastard, could at least slow him down enough for him to beat a hasty retreat and regroup back with dad.

Michael must have read his mind somehow or Dean was getting sloppy, because suddenly the gun went flying through the room and clattered on the floor on the other side. The man turned to meet Dean's eyes, "Dean. We need to talk. Without distractions preferably."

"I remember," Dean said. That fateful hunt with the djinn. Dean thought he was dead, that dad wouldn't find him in time. But dad eventually saved him, though, not before Michael was able to talk to him. Scared the crap out of Dean and at first he didn't believe a damn word the angel told him.

"What do you want?" Dean asked again once they were sitting at the table. He wasn't sure why he was entertaining the idea that this 'man' could be anything good but Michael hasn't made a move to harm Dean. Yet.

He watched as the 'angel' sat down across from him, sitting tall and stiff, looking mildly uncomfortable in the chair. He looked up, "I've never had reason to sit on one of these before. It's not very comfortable."

"It's a chair. Not all of them are comfortable," Dean said slowly, a little bewildered to be having a conversation about chairs and their comfiness. It just proved how unnatural the man or angel or whatever the hell he called himself really was. "Anyways, enough about chairs. I want to know what you want from me."

Michael tilted his head as he looked back at him. The way he stared at Dean unnerved him. It wasn't just that he was looking at Dean, studying his expression, it was deeper than that, like he could see through Dean to his very soul. Everything that made him who he was laid bare like an open book. Dean has never felt like this before anyone else, not even dad.

"You don't need to be afraid of me, Dean," Michael told him. "I won't hurt you. That's not why I am here. I've sworn myself to you. To help you and your family. To protect you and your brother." Dean wasn't sure what he had been expecting to hear but it certainly hadn't been that. Michael leaned forward, watching Dean carefully as he continued, "I've known you since before you were born." But that was impossible. "Good things do happen, Dean."

"Good. Then you must also remember my warnings. As a vessel with a special connection to an archangel comes the manifestation of grace, of abilities beyond what humans are normally capable of," Michael said. The knowing look Michael gave him made Dean realize that the archangel knew exactly what Dean did last night. "But I didn't come here to merely lecture you on the importance of using my grace wisely, Dean." It was a relief knowing Michael wasn't too upset over Dean smiting such a low level demon. Then again Michael being an angel meant he hated demons on principle so, really, he shouldn't have been too surprised by his reaction.

Still, Dean found himself shrugging and muttering an apology which Michael just waved off. "I don't mind if you use it to defend yourself or your brother. Or Jess. I just want you to be careful. Regardless of how much grace you expend, it is still archangel grace and even just a burst of it can attract other...supernatural creatures," Michael explained.

Dean found himself nodding. He'd always tried to be careful when using the angel's grace, though in earlier years, he hadn't known he had been using it to heal quicker from a random hunt, or run just a little faster to avoid being eaten or stabbed, he hadn't even known Michael gave him such a gift until they met on the djinn hunt. Since then he'd tried his best not to show any abnormal abilities around civilians or other hunters, Uncle Bobby and dad, especially dad, included. He shuddered at the thought of John Winchester realizing that Dean was anything but normal.

Dad used to be the kind of father that any kid would have wanted, teaching Dean how to toss a baseball on a lazy Sunday morning, cooking actual family dinners (microwave dinners didn't count, neither did ordering pizza or takeout) every Wednesday and Thursday nights when mom was too tired to cook, he'd even shown him a few times how to maintain the Impala. That had all been before mom died though. After, dad wasn't the same man. He took Mary's death hard, harder than both Sam and Dean. He'd spiraled into depression, going out to bars to get drunk and get into fights. Then one day, just months after mom died, dad came back and said that something supernatural took mom away and he was going to find out what killed her and avenge her. Dean didn't believe him at first.

He was eighteen when mom died and he'd just graduated from high school. He remembered the anger he felt as he stared at his father leaning against the wall, his breath smelling awfully like the bar he'd just come back from, he remembered thinking he was just about to get his life together, finally able to move on from mom's death, but dad came back with those awful words, trying to pull him into a fantasy world where monsters existed outside of nightmares and mom's death was anything but ordinary. He'd been justifiably hurt, feeling like his dad just couldn't let go, and why was it always Dean's job to keep his family together?

Dad had been right though. He'd taken both Sam and Dean to a woman named Missouri after that and they all sat down at the table as the old psychic told them something evil had been following them since Mary's death. It was the thing dad had been waiting to hear. He wasn't crazy like he thought and he became obsessed with anything supernatural. Hunting slowly started to take priority and both boys knew it. Dean might have been interested in college at one point, but he'd decided that keeping dad alive was better in the long run. No matter how much Sam had protested the decision at first, no matter how much he pleaded and begged Dean to reconsider, to just let dad spiral into this unhealthy obsession in taking down every unnatural son of a bitch he came across.

"I don't get it, Dean," Sam said one day as they lounged on the couch. Dean waited for him to elaborate, his eyes fixed on the TV screen, pretending to pay more attention to the movie. He heard his brother sigh before hitting the 'pause' button. "You were thinking about going away to college just a few weeks ago." Oh. It was this again. He honestly didn't want to get into this with Sam. Again. But leave it to his little brother to never let anything go. Not when he knew he could try and wear down Dean's defenses. "Seriously, man. You could still go, you know. Your grades are good. You'd be able to get into a lot of schools. You just need to apply."

Dean rolled his eyes, tried not to think of the future he could have if it wasn't for hunting. It wasn't in the cards. He'd thought about it. He brought it up with dad. Dad needed him more though. Needed him here. And besides, he wasn't as smart as Sam, he'd probably flunk out of college halfway through. He wasn't equipped to settle down with a house and kids and a normal 9-5 job. Sam was though. Sam was normal and smart and he wanted that life. Dean could see it in his brother's eyes. Sam wanted to get back to 'safe'. He wanted the life before mom died. Maybe Dean had been like Sam for a little while, content in going to school and studying and hanging out with friends, but deep down he knew he was just a freak. He flexed his fingers. "Look, Sam. I already told you that ship sailed," he said. He went to grab the remote. Sam let him. "Now just drop it, okay?"

John Winchester's obsession with hunting may have kept Dean with him, however, it served to drive Sam away more and more, until they'd gotten into a spectacular argument a few weeks before the younger Winchester was set to graduate. Dean remembered that night like it was yesterday. Dad had been spitting mad and Sam was just as angry, never wanting to get involved in the nightmarish life. Dean couldn't blame him though. Couldn't find fault in wanting to run to a safer, more familiar life where the worst thing he had to worry about was failing out of school. It beat living out of sketchy motels in sketchy parts of towns. It beat having to run credit card fraud or having people think you're a murderer because there was no way a werewolf could actually exist. It beat having to worry about getting eaten by monsters or sacrificed to some evil cult who worshipped demons. The hunting life wasn't for everyone and Dean respected Sam's wishes to stay far away from both dad and him. It hurt. It hurt really bad, especially when all his calls went to voicemail, then finding out Sam changed numbers. It hurt like his heart just got stabbed but Dean kept his distance like his brother wanted.

Until now of course. Until he dreamt of Sam and Jess and a burning apartment. Until he got that itch just under his skin just before realizing that a demon was involved. He knew it was part of having Michael's grace inside him. He was different, could sense things that other people just couldn't.

He looked back at Michael who wasn't even looking at him anymore. He was looking down at his hands. Dean cleared his throat and waited for Michael to look back up. "I'll try to be more careful in the future. Was that all you came to talk to me about?"

Michael sighed, rubbing the side of his face. He looked tired and old and strangely human. "Like I said. This is not a social call. I wanted to warn you that things might be changing soon."

Dean hated when Michael got vague like that. "What do you mean 'changing'? What are you talking about, Mike?"

Michael shook his head. He smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes. When he stood, Dean heard the vague flapping of wings. In dreams, Dean couldn't quite see the archangel's wings. Michael had explained once that it was because his wings were too large for the dream. If they'd been standing in the outside world, Dean would probably be able to see it though. Only true vessels with a special connection to the angels could see an angel's true form, wings included. It was kind of cool to realize that Dean was someone special. All his life he'd always thought he was an abnormality, a freak of nature. But talking to Michael somewhat changed his perspective.

"I can't tell you all of the details just yet. I'm afraid the more you know, the more of the outcome of the future could change," the angel said. The vagueness of the statement had Dean's stomach churning. He didn't like the sound of that or how tired Michael seemed.

Even though Dean wanted to know even more, he nodded, trying to respect Michael's wishes to leave it alone. Since the angel saved him, more than once, he'd trusted him with more than his life. "Okay but you'll tell me when you can, right?" he asked.

Michael nodded. "Of course. When the time is right, I will tell you everything you need to know. I have to go now, Dean." Dean watched as the angel's eyes started to glow. "Take care. I'll be in touch when I can."

Then before he could think to say anything, Michael snapped his fingers and Dean jolted awake.