"Jamie, run." Mary pushes her daughter towards one of the sand hills.
Jamie shakes her head. "I'm not leaving you."
"I'll be right behind you." Mary shoves her again. Lucifer is coming towards them. Jamie nods and they take off running. "Split up!" Mary suddenly yells.
"What, no!" Jamie doesn't stop to protest but she does continue in the same direction as her mother.
"Just do it!"
Jamie shakes her head and breaks off from her mother's tracks, heading in the other direction from Lucifer. Suddenly she stops short, three angels dressed in military gear appear around her. They look startled and confused. "Identify yourself." One gasps.
"I feel Michael's grace within her." Another mutters.
"It can't be. A prophet?"
Jamie swallows thickly. She knows the response. Knows it too well. Michael put those words upon her tongue himself. Castiel spoke them shortly after they first met. "Ego vox clamantis in deserto" I am the voice of one crying out in the desert "parate viam Domini rectas facite semitas eius." Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his path.
"Prophetess? But how? Michael said this wasn't possible."
"But here she is. And she bares his sigil upon her skin." Jamie looked down. The tattoo of Michael's sigil on her wrist was visible from the torn sleeve of her jacket.
"She bares more than that. His grace is inside of her. She's filled with it. As if…"
"She's had his child. A Nephilim. But where?" Horror overtook all three of their faces.
Jamie lifted her head, finally taking eye contact. "My sons are not of this plane. Nor am I. My name is Jamie Winchester. I am the heir of the bloodline of Michael's true vessels."
"That bloodline is extinct."
She closed her eyes. The voice was alien, but she could feel him behind her. His grace swirled around her, it's warmth provoking and familiar, it's strength comforting and startling. The urge to run to him, to her husband, was overpowering. Yet she resisted. All that was familiar to her was alien to him. He knew he knew her, but yet he could not place her. He could feel her, but she was a stranger to him. That their bond could breach even dimensions was as unsurprising to her as it was unfathomable to him.
Opening her eyes, she turned to face him. "In this world, yes. But not in all of them."
His eyes lit up. She had peaked his interest. "You come from a dimension where they exist. The vessels." He took two steps towards her and she did not move. This took him aback just a bit, and he failed to hide it completely. She was not afraid of him. Not in the least. Nor intimidated. She stood straight and confident, her chin tilted up so that she could gaze into his eyes when she spoke to him.
"Yes." His prophetess and his wife. "And the mother of your sons." She whispered as she seamlessly read his thoughts. Already he could feel the psychic bond meld between them as his grace inside her reached out to bond with his. And then it was not perfect, not completely. Like the grace in her could tell he was not entirely hers. Michael, but not HER Michael.
"Michael." He was pulled away from his thoughts of her by a new voice. And a threat. He could feel something else. Something that should be dead.
"Lucifer." He hissed. And then he looked back to her. "He's here with you?"
"He's the reason I'm trapped here." He reached out and grabbed her hand. The feel of her skin was like silk, soft and pure. This creature, endowed to him by his absent father…or rather, endowed to a version of him. He kept forgetting she was not his. Not really. Finding yourself jealous of yourself is quite unsettling.
He teleported the both of them to where Lucifer and Mary stood. Lucifer had smote three of his angels but that was not of his concern. As the fire around them cleared and they walked forward, she stood at his left side, still just as confident and powerful as the moment before. Untouched by his fire, unharmed by his power, protected by his grace.
"Mom!" Jamie rushed from Michael's side to Mary's. Grabbing her mother and pulling her back from the archangels. She firmly expected Michael to smite Lucifer where he stood, and when he didn't, she saw straight through him. In the veil of the joy at being reunited with her husband, she had not seen at first. She saw it now. The darkness inside him, the poison that bled into his grace, the evil pitted within him, it screamed and bit at the ties that bound the grace she carried to him. The grace inside her, the essence of the man she loved, tried to fight back. But there was no saving this version of her husband. This was a fallen Michael. A Michael who desired power over obedience. This was not the good son.
His gaze drifted from his brother back to her. He could feel her gift. In this dimension, it unbound the threads severed by Metatron and let her full power escape. If he could harness it. If he could possess it. He would be unstoppable. He decided in that moment she would not rule by his side, he would rule as her. Inside her as his vessel he would be God.
She could feel the possession he craved of her. For now she would need to play his game. He was her only hope now of reuniting with her brothers and her sons. If she could get back to them, then her Michael, her husband, would fight for her. Gripping her mother's hand, her sapphire eyes burned as she caught Michael's gaze and let a wicked grin overtake her.