So, what I planned to start about 2 weeks ago, the second chapter for Collateral Damage! :D
Ok, so one thing to know…
This is Dean inside Dean's head, this is Michael.
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Bobby had had Sam dig around in the cabinet until he came up with a bottle of Makers and two bar glasses. He slid them onto the kitchen table, let Bobby pour and downed his first in one gulp. Bobby drank his only a little slower, let his glass thud back onto the table.
"He's gone?"
Sam nodded, wordlessly. He wasn't sure there was even anything else to say. Dean was gone, trapped in his own head by an archangel he let control him just so Sam wouldn't take the offer. Once again, he'd failed to save his brother. Really, he should've stopped keeping count of how many times he'd let Dean down; the number only served to make him sick.
"Do we know where they're going?"
At least Bobby had said they're, not he, not like they were one person. Sam shrugged, poured them both another drink and swallowed his second just as quick. "I don't know."
"I mean, do we even know where Lucifer-"
"No, Bobby, I don't know, ok?" He didn't mean to lose patience with him, really he didn't. Whatever nerves he had left were cracking under the strain, coming apart before his eyes. Even though Dean had said he wasn't sure they could they be the same again, they'd been working out of Bobby's for a couple weeks now and it was plain that whatever Dean had said, Dean still wanted him to try. And he had been. He'd been trying so goddamn hard and he was pretty sure he was getting somewhere, but now? Now that didn't matter.
"He won't go to Lucifer. Not first. He probably can't find him yet anyway." Castiel's voice came from where he sat slumped against the wall in the corner, low and defeated and sounding about as broken as Sam felt. His heart jerked toward the sound, drawn to the familiarity. Cas had lost Dean too, and he hadn't realized until he saw him with Michael just how much Cas had lost, how much Dean hadn't told him yet. He'd like to think that Dean would've, eventually, but that wasn't exactly important right now.
Castiel pushed himself up, shuffled over to the table. He sank into a chair, cocked his head almost curiously at the whisky in between them. Sam shoved it closer, asked without really expecting an answer. "Want some?"
"Yes, I think." He tried not to show how much it shocked him, pushed his chair back and fished another glass out of the cabinet. He poured for Cas, gave him just a little less than he put in his and Bobby's third glasses. Cas sipped at it, shuddered and forced it all down. His eyes hadn't changed since Michael had left. They were still haunted, still a picture of shattered faith. "This is war, the generals won't fight each other at the beginning. He'll be structuring, gathering, fighting Lucifer's movements everywhere he can. He might say he can get this over with quickly, but he can't. And he won't."
Bobby spoke up then, scooting closer to the table. "What, actually helping fight the Apocalypse? An angel?"
"Michael may be our Father's weapon, but he's more than that. He's…he's the protector. Of everyone. When he was formed God gave him fierce instincts, an unbreakable devotion to our Father and the desire to care for this planet with the strength of blood…" His voice dropped, hushed, and it was clear he was piecing a few things together for the first time himself. "It's why your family, your blood line…you have a propensity for protecting your own. It's why even if your father had been living, out of all of you Dean would be his preferred vessel…the older brother, the protector…" His voice broke and he looked away, his jaw clenching.
Well, it did make sense now. Michael, the protector…yeah, that was definitely Dean. Beyond all doubt. Sam cleared his throat, fought the pricking he could feel behind his eyes. He poured Cas another drink, held off on his own. "So he's…he really is supposed to be the good guy."
"He is a liar." Castiel's eyes sparked vivid blue, fury bleeding sharp into his voice. "He is not as good as I believed. I trusted him, and I won't ever make that mistake again." He took the second drink much better than the first, only coughing once after he finished and not wincing at all. He shoved away from the table, stalked toward the door.
"Hey, Cas, wait-"
"I'm not leaving." He hesitated, let his hand rest against the doorframe. "We need fresh wards, on the gate. I don't want him coming back here."
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-and why the hell couldn't you just let it go, huh? You had to keep pushing him, keep making him think about it, I swear to God, bastard, if you-
Michael sighed heavily, rubbed a thumb against his temple. Can we be done with this? I understand, Dean, you think I tortured Castiel unnecessarily. I am sorry you disapprove, but I thought actually speaking to him would be a better way of transmitting my good will then simply taking you and leaving. You hate my decisions as much as you hate me, I understand, now can you be quiet?
Oh, what, am I getting on your nerves? That's funny, considering I'm the one with every right to be freaking annoyed here and you're the one getting pissed?
Just…please. We have work to do.
What, you gonna shut me up, Mike? Pen me up in here like a demon would, huh?
I told you before, I gave my brother my word. I told Castiel I wouldn't hurt you, and I won't if you'd just stop pushing!
Michael growled in frustration, rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He'd told Castiel he liked Dean and that was still true, but at the time he hadn't yet had full opportunity to realize how infuriatingly frustrating the man could be. The incessant yelling in his head hadn't stopped since he left the salvage yard two hours before. He'd been sure Dean would tire, but if anything he'd just gotten louder and more insistent. Utterly frustrating.
Well if you're not gonna shut me up, then tough. Cause it's my body you're in, pal, and I'm not gonna let up just cause I'm bugging you.
Wonderful. Thank you for informing me.
He stood up, shook his wings free from his shoulders and slipped through the dimensional space that was visible only to his kind. Dean mercifully went quiet for that, and within seconds they were outside a convenience store in Dothan, Alabama. The door jingled loudly as he came through, the cashier looking up from her book to smile at him. He nodded back, stepped up to the counter.
He scanned the shelves behind her, pleased to see what he was looking for hadn't vanished since the 60's. "I need a pack of Camel, please. And this." He snatched a yellow lighter from the display next to the register, tossing it down against the counter.
Oh, are you kiddin' me? You smoke? You, a freakin' angel?
He slipped a hand into his pocket, materialized some money into his palm with hardly a thought and paid her quickly, taking the box and lighter in one hand as he turned to head out the door. He ripped the package open, brought one to his lips and lit up quick, sighing after the first taste.
Missed that. And yes, it's…an indulgence, while I'm here.
Angels have their own vices, who'd've thought…
Technically, it's no more a vice than occasional alcohol consumption or driving without a seatbelt, but I see what you mean. Still, it's even less harmful for me as I can't be affected by the detriments, only the positives.
What, and I can't? These are my lungs, y'know.
Relax. My presence alone heals your body continuously. He took another drag, his lips curling into a smile. You should be glad for that, really. This past year has been hard on your liver.
Dean actually fell silent then, and he took the opportunity to relax back against the wall, enjoying the rest of his cigarette and mulling plans over in his head. Finding Lucifer was paramount of course, but it wasn't as if he would be easy to find. No, if he knew his brother, he'd still be laying low, still letting the lower level pieces move into place.
So if we don't know where he is, what are we doing here?
Michael startled just a little, honestly surprised that he'd been broadcasting his thoughts so clearly. There was a divide, and while he could hear everything Dean thought, Dean couldn't read his mind in exactly the same way. Not unless it was directed at him, at least. Or, apparently, unless he was thinking 'loudly' enough.
Impressive. You are a strong soul indeed, Dean Winchester.
Fantastic. So, what are we doing here? Sorry to rush you, but I kinda wanna get this show on the road. Sam and Cas and Bobby, they're probably goin' crazy right about now. We get this over with, it's done and I can go home. And scrub my brain.
He laughed, low and rough. You are funny, I'll certainly give you that. He turned, saw the ashtray on the other side of the door and crushed the end down into the sand, brushing his fingers off on his jeans when he finished. Right. Well, we're here to meet my brother.
Which one?
He grinned, rolled his shoulders and slid his hands into his pockets, starting off walking down the road. My little brother, Dean. Do you honestly think we don't have family? Our garrisons, they're very close, typically. Just because God comes unquestionably first doesn't mean there aren't other levels of affection. Titus…he was formed by our Father some time after me. He's a guardian angel, as is every other angel in my garrison.
Guardian angel? Like the literally perching on your shoulder kind of angel?
He laughed again, warm. Yes. Exactly. Most of them spend their existence moving from one human to another, guiding, watching…some of the stronger ones have specific purposes, certain countries and the like. For Titus, this is his state. It's why the bloodline that can contain him runs here.
Let me get this straight…he's the angel of Alabama?
Yes.
You have any idea how many jokes I could make about that?
Don't. Remember, Castiel is the angel of Thursday, or did you know? There was just an edge of warning in his tone, enough to convey that this was someone he wasn't interested in hearing Dean make fun of. Titus has never taken a vessel in his entire existence, but he's coming down to help me deal with this battle.
So he's gonna be taggin' along with you to go fight Lucifer? Oh yeah, that sounds safe.
Concerned, Dean?
Just wondering what the hell you're thinking, that's all.
No. I'm not that stupid, or that reckless with his life.
Just other people's.
He sighed, shook his head. I'm not your enemy, Dean. I'm not. And believe it or not I have no desire to see this planet go up in flames.
See, I don't buy that. Cause Zach, he said that if this happens, if the Apocalypse starts, millions die. And you kill a good number of them yourself on your psycho Lucifer quest.
You must believe me, Dean. I will do everything in my power to keep it from coming to that. There will be lives lost, certainly, but it is my greatest desire to keep them to a minimum. It's the orders I have from my Father; it's why I'm here. To defeat Lucifer, and to save God's most beautiful creation. You, and your home. I can do it. I know I can. Dean didn't answer, and he picked up where the conversation had gotten sidetracked from. But no, he isn't coming with us. I'm just meeting him, making sure he takes his vessel successfully. He'll be leaving; he has his own orders. I've asked him to try and keep a handle on the spread of the lower level demonic possessions. Takes a little bit of the work off our hands.
Well, that'll be useful to the hunters at least. If he actually does it.
He'll do it. He's not Zachariah, Dean, and he's certainly not Uriel. You must understand, you've met very few of us. Imagine what would happen if we judged humanity solely off the actions of your leaders. Are all of you like Hitler, perhaps?
Point taken. But I still think you're a dick.
Michael laughed louder, his lips turn up into a soft smile. You'd hardly be you if you didn't.
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It was after midnight before Castiel came back to the house. Bobby'd gone to bed but Sam waited up for him, flicking through the books he could find that included anything even alluding to the vessels of angels. When Cas showed up it was sudden, appearing to hover just behind Sam's shoulder.
"You won't find much in there. Humans have little correct about the process."
He sighed, frustrated, and slammed the book shut. He stretched, felt his back creak and protest. "What can you tell me about the process? What's it like? Like being possessed?'
"Not exactly, no. There's usually less fear and more awareness, considering the vessel has already consented to use. However, it's harder to house an archangel, it takes more, and the vessel is usually shoved to the back of their own minds, pinned and almost certainly in pain. Besides, angels usually tend to show very little care for the human needs of their host, especially if they're unaccustomed to them." Castiel looked away, rubbed at the back of his neck. "I've been guilty of that myself."
"So Dean, he ah…" Sam looked down, rubbed at a hole in his jeans as he forced the words out. "He's in pain?"
"It's…complicated." He pulled up a chair, leaned his elbows against his knees as he settled in to talk to Sam. "He wouldn't be. Michael isn't confining him, not strictly. He still has a measure of freedom in his own head, and he can still experience everything just…without the control. Like being a passenger in a car, really, except far more personally invasive. He is…struggling. Michael told me. And that will hurt him, until he realizes pushing against the hold does him no good." He gestured helpless, shook his head. "He might have realized that already, for all we know."
"Yeah, cause Dean's always so ready to let someone else drive." He rubbed his hands across his face, felt the weariness sinking in through his bones. He hadn't had a good night's sleep since God only knew when. Ever since raising Lucifer, it was nightmares every night. Either that, or lying awake in the dark and worrying about how to fix his relationship with his brother, how to pay his debts, how to earn Dean's trust.
Just then the memories of that morning rushed back in, hitting hard. In the commotion of everything else, he almost forgot to mention just what else he'd noticed when he was watching Cas and Michael out the window. He cleared his throat, looked up and got Cas to meet his eyes. "Is there something going on between you and my brother?"
His eyes widen, briefly, and he looked away, licked his lips and almost started twice before he actually answered. "He would have preferred to tell you himself. He was going to tell you, Sam, he just…"
"He just doesn't trust me, yeah, I know." It came out even more bitter than he'd meant it to, and Castiel's head snapped back up, blue eyes burning bright.
"He's trying, Sam. Whatever has happened, you are still his little brother, and you mean more to him than he could ever possibly tell you or even fully understand himself. He's having a hard time, right now, but believe me, Sam, he wants everything to be like it was. He sees that you're trying, and he thinks it's working."
It's working. He blinked back the sting in his eyes, coughed again. "He told you that?"
"Yes."
He could literally feel his muscles go weak with the relief and he leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and ran his hands over his face again, made sure he kept his composure. Much as he was pretty much family at this point, if he was going to get all emotional over this, it'd be with Dean. This was between the two of them. "So…you are. The two of you."
The chair squeak against the wood as he scooted it back, relaxed more into it. "For some time now. He really was going to tell you, Sam, he just hadn't decided how. I think he was worried you would be…upset."
Sam looked up, ready to gauge the angel's response. The guy had never showed emotion before but he'd started to, bit by bit, and if there was anything there he wanted to catch it. "I'd ask if you love him, but considering this morning…"
"I would hope I'd made that rather clear, yes."
"Yeah." Sam looked down, rubbed his hands together as he thought. The last time he'd faced something like this had been with Cassie, back in Missouri. He'd seen the way Dean was with her, and he'd been ready to accept it, even to stay in that little town if they needed to. Hell, he'd been ready to go into full on protective brother mode and talk to her about how no one messed with his brother, but in the end, he hadn't needed to. She'd made it pretty clear she didn't want to try, and though it had clearly hurt, Dean had taken it alright. He'd wanted to talk to her even more after that, cause that definitely did fall under the heading of messing with his brother, but he'd let it go because Dean had wanted to let her go. End of story. With their line of work, he hadn't been sure anything like this would ever come up again, but here it was. And now, after everything they'd been through the past year…well, he didn't exactly feel worthy to lecture anyone.
"There's a lot of things I would say, but you're the one that pulled him out of hell when I couldn't." He laughed, low and just a little harsh. "I mean, I practically left him for Ruby and you left Heaven for him so ah…I know that I don't have much room to talk, I know that. But at the same time, he's still my brother." He looked up, let Cas see the honesty in his eyes. "And I won't let you hurt him. Not anyone, not ever again."
Cas leaned in closer, his lips curving into a warm smile. "Which is exactly why I like you, Sam." He reached out, touched his arm with a warm hand. "I would do anything to keep from hurting him. I hope I never do."
He nodded, brought his own hand over to cover Castiel's for a brief moment before he pushed out of the chair, went to the fireplace to lean against the mantle. "What do we do now, Cas? How do we get him back?"
"We can't. It isn't possible."
He slammed his fist into the wall, swept a vase off the end of mantle, heard the crash as it shattered against the floor. "There has to be a way!"
Cas leapt to his feet, crossed over to step almost all the way in front of Sam. "There is no way! There is nothing, nothing you can do, nothing I or anyone else can do until Michael is finished. We are helpless against this. And I am sorry I couldn't stop it."
"You couldn't stop it? Hell, I'm the one Michael came to first! And I told him, I told him to take me and he said he might but that-"
"He didn't want to take you, Sam! It was only a ploy, a bargaining chip to ensure Dean's cooperation! It was never meant to be you!"
That was another punch to the gut, one more thing to feel guilty for. Michael had set a trap for Dean, and he'd walked right into it to be the stupid, willing bait. One more thing to add to his list of 'ways I've screwed everything up royally'. "So he lied. Michael lied to me about me being able to be his vessel."
"No. That much is true, but you weren't the preferred one. In fact, I don't think he would've taken you even if Dean hadn't agreed."
His hand tightened on the mantle, knuckles white. "Because of the demon blood."
"Because of a prophesy." Sam raised his head at that, curious, and Cas shook his head. "No, I don't know much. I only know that it involves Michael and…."
"And?"
Castiel's eyes dropped shut, his shoulders sagging just a little with the weight. "And a potential Antichrist."
"Potential Antichrist? So that's…that's me? I'm…"
Cas held a hand up, pacifying. "It's possible, Sam, I don't know. I know only that there have been rumors, and I have heard that we know for certain it was Lucifer that asked Azazel to give his blood to special children." Sam opened his mouth, the words caught in his throat as Cas cut him off. "There are other generations, Sam, other possibilities, it doesn't have to be you."
"Except that I'm the one that started all of this. Oh my God…" He turned away, jumped when he felt Castiel's hand on his shoulder, turning him.
"It won't come to that, Sam. It won't."
"And if it does?"
"Would you ever consent? Would you allow Lucifer to take you?"
He shook his head, spread his hands out helplessly. "I want to say no, I wouldn't, but if he threatened Dean? If he pulled God knows what else out to throw at me? I don't really know, do I?"
Cas nodded, his lips pressing then. "As I said…we won't let it come to that."
"How the hell are we gonna stop it, Cas? I mean, I don't know about you but I'm feelin' a little overwhelmed here. Me and you and Bobby, we're good, but we can't take on the Apocalypse alone, and I can't…" His chest tightened, aching. "I can't stand the thought of Dean bein' out there somewhere by himself. Even if Michael is in control. If we're going to fight this war, we need to be doing it together. All of us."
Cas drew his hand back slow, his jaw clenching. "It won't be like you think, Sam. It won't be him, it'll be Michael, and we'll want to treat him like Dean, but he isn't. And-"
"And Dean is in there. Dean can hear us, isn't that what you just told me earlier? Look if nothing else, we should be there for him so he's not alone."
It seemed like forever before Cas nodded and Sam waited expectantly, nervously.
"You're right. He shouldn't be alone. Call him. I'll go take down the wards."
He was gone before Sam could get a good look, but the flash of pain he'd seen in his eyes had been all too easy to read.
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I gotta tell you, I'm not thinkin' too much of your brother's intelligence right now.
Michael gritted his teeth, tapped the hilt of Dean's knife impatiently against the hard earth. He's nervous. Give him time.
Time? Oh c'mon, the guy gave his consent two hours ago! He practically begged! What the hell was it said, "Oh Lord make me an instrument" or some shit like that?
It was beautiful, Dean, and yes, he is willing. Titus is preparing to join with him.
Does everything you say have to sound so dirty?
Only to you. Just then Dean's phone rang loudly, jarring in the silence. Michael jumped, reached slowly inside the leather jacket to feel around for a pocket.
The hell are you doin'? Answer the phone, jackass!
Patience. You have no patience. He slid the phone out, felt Dean scrabbled hard against his hold when he looked at the screen to see the word 'Sam' displayed across it. He flipped the phone open, cocked his shoulder to press it against his ear. "Yes?"
He heard Sam suck in a ragged breath, for a minute lost for words.
God, Sammy, it's ok, it's ok buddy. Michael felt the surge in energy as Dean fought him again and he sighed heavily, pushed back enough that Dean went silent.
I don't want to hurt you, Dean, but you can't get around me. It's not like demonic possession. Trying gets you nowhere, I'm sorry. Relax, please, hm? He'll be alright.
Finally, Sam spoke. "Michael?"
The word was still thick, pained, and Michael winced at the near deafening cry of rage Dean had echoing around the inside of his head. "Yes. Are you alright, Sam?"
"Ah, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Dean, is he alright?"
Don't fucking worry about that, Sam, it's nothing.
"He says it's nothing. He's rather angry at the moment, to be honest." He let his head fall back against the foundation of the house, kept background tabs on Titus' movements overhead. "Has Castiel reconsidered my offer?"
"What offer was that?"
"To help fight this war. To finish Lucifer."
He could hear the sound of Sam shuffling the phone, his voice coming through clearer. "Yeah. Yeah we want to help you. Both of us. Bobby too."
Jesus, Sammy, what the hell are you-
"I'd hoped he'd change his mind. I have something to take care of where I am, but I can meet you in the morning. The salvage yard?"
"Yeah. We'll be here." He went quiet, and Michael was actually reaching up to pull the phone away from his ear when he heard his next words. "You were never going to use me, were you? I was just the tool you used to get to Dean."
"You are no one's tool, Samuel, and you'd do well to remember that."
Samuel? C'mon he hates that. And don't start this crap, alright? Kid feels bad enough already.
"But you did use me to get to Dean. Didn't you?"
Michael sighed, wished he was there in person to explain to the boy. "Sometimes…sometimes the end justifies the means, does it not? You didn't fail him, Sam, and I didn't lie. I could've used you, I still could, but I won't."
"Why?"
"I'll see you in the morning." He hung up, shoved the phone into his pocket and prepared to deal with Dean's yelling.
Care to tell me what the hell that was about?
At the moment, no. Windows rattled overhead and he was glad for the distraction. He smiled, wide, whispered into the night air. "Go ahead then, brother." He stood up in time to hear the glass crack, folded his wings in tight and slid from where he'd sat to into the man's living room, coming in just in time to see the last flashing of blinding white light spilling into his vessel's features.
Shouldn't I be going blind about now?
You would be, if you didn't have me in you. Another perk.
There are no perks.
Titus stood before him now, fully clothed in his vessel and staring curiously at his own arm, turning to watch the dim light play over his skin. The man's name was Delane Aaron, and his family bloodline could be traced back for generations in this state, on his mother's side. He was certainly an attractive vessel, light brown skin and deep, dark eyes still seemed to hold innocence at 19. It suited his brother, and Michael couldn't help but be pleased with the match. "He fits you well, Titus. He is a good man."
Yeah, a good man that's just been forced into Invasion of the Body Snatchers.
Titus blinked, turned his arm over again. "It…feels…I…"
Michael stepped forward, laughing as he clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll get used to it."
Titus nodded, slow. "He isn't here."
Son of a bitch! Did he-
"He's not dead, he's just suppressed by the power of your grace. You can control it, eventually, but that takes finesse, skill…many years."
"My wings feel strange…bound."
"You'll always feel a little cramped, while you're here. One of the limits that come with taking human form, I'm afraid. There are benefits to have your wings like this, though. It…" He chuckled, patted him on the shoulder once more before pulling his hand away. "You'll see. Are you ready?"
"Yes, Michael. I'm ready." He stood just a little taller and Michael could just make out the curve of his wings, invisible to human eyes for the moment and arching proudly from his shoulders.
"You are a good soldier, my brother." He met Titus' eyes, trapped his attention with the intensity of his gaze. "Boulder, Colorado. There's a demon there driving the animal's mad, inciting them to violence. Take care of him."
Titus didn't even waste time with so much as a 'yes' before he was gone, blinking out of existence.
So that's your little brother, huh? Yeah, I could tell. Real good relationship you two have.
He's uncomfortable; adjusting. And he is an efficient warrior. He'll be wanting to talk when we see him again, I assure you. For now… He flexed his own wings until they brushed the walls, rolled his shoulders to loosen the muscles. We can show up a little early.
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I really hope everyone's enjoying this one! This thing started out as a oneshot, and then somehow blossomed into this whole epic story in my head that took me totally off guard. I'm seriously having sooo much fun writing this though, so I hope some of you like it so far too. ^^
(I will say that making sure I get all this coded properly is a nightmare with all the italics/bold/whatever. X.X so if I make a mistake, I'm realllly sorry and I'll fix it as soon as I catch it!)