One thing to keep in mind: I started this AU right after 5.01, so while there will be some elements from the other eps worked in, for this, those aren't part of the canon background. So, God is not missing, God is still calling the shots, if only to a very small handful of angels.

Sam stretched, arching back in the chair, hands brushing the stack of books behind him. There was hardly a room in Bobby's house that wasn't crammed full of books, but here in the library they were absolutely unavoidable.

He'd been going at the research for hours now, and even though his stamina at this sort of thing had really developed over the years, even his eyes started to tire a little on the really long days. Michael sat across the room, in an armchair with his legs propped up on a bookshelf, reading and looking so much like Dean that it hurt. Bobby was manning the other computer down the hall, and considering Cas had only popped in for all of five seconds to tell Sam to call him when he found something, they'd been stuck there alone together for quite awhile.

Sam sighed and leaned his chair back, looked away when Michael looked at him. Looking him in the eyes was still hard, and he wasn't sure when or if it would ever get any easier. "There's no way for you to get any kind of clue as to where this is gonna start?"

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Michael turn a page, barely looking up from the book. "That's what I'm looking for, Sam. I know it might be disappointing, but I don't know everything." He shut the book, slid down a little farther in his chair and looked at Sam until he looked back, however briefly. "There are things I do know, however, so I've started there. I know that Croatoan is an old demon, the soul of a man who died in Egypt during the 10 plagues of Egypt, and I know also that he is a consort of Pestilence, and they are often seen together. And, like the angels and the horsemen, he is important enough to require a certain human to contain him. There is a limited amount of forms he can take, which, if I can find a prophesy about his connection to his host, should help us narrow down our search."

"Huh." Even after getting used to having Cas around, he'd still expected more now that Michael was there. Something about having an archangel on their side had made him think things would be easier now, simple almost. As if Michael would know Lucifer's location off the top of his head, run off and kill him and be done with it. Thinking about it now, it seemed both irrational to think that way and yet still strange that he couldn't do more. "So, angels just do research like anybody else? That's…"

Michael laughed, and Sam gritted his teeth against how goddamn much it still hurt. "We have our sources and our abilities, yes, but no, we can't pull anything out of thin air. I'm sorry to disappoint you, Sam, but in some ways we're as limited as you are. If God doesn't choose to reveal the information to us, we have to use regular channels. Sometimes it's easier for us to get that information with our powers, other times…" He gestured at the book in his lap, shrugging with one shoulder. "Some things take time."

"Still, if there's a prophesy, couldn't you remember it? I mean, Cas seems to remember stuff from millennia back or something like that."

"Do you have any idea how many prophets there have really been? How many that have gone almost unrecorded? Beyond that, I know many prophesies, yes, and I never forget them. But those pertain to me or to my garrison. Not to sound arrogant, I assure you, but I'm an archangel, Sam. I'm a captain and a weapon, not a library."

If anything, that knowledge humanized angels even more, something he was a little glad for, but for the most part it just lowered his opinion of them. They weren't that different from humans, really, and yet most of them still turned out as assholes. Sure, he couldn't exactly say he was proud of the human race, but it seemed reasonable to say that at the very least half of humanity was decent, if not more.

He rubbed his eyes, tried to focus again on the task at hand. "So…it'll have to be a certain body capable of holding him. With the horsemen and the other important demons does it work like it does with the angels? From what Cas told me and Bobby the other day, sounds like there has to be a common factor with the host."

Michael looked up sharply at that, clearly curious. "Did he? And what made Castiel tell you this?"

"Just…that you were made to protect humanity, and that's why you wanted Dean." He swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat, wishing all over again he'd tried to push harder for Michael to take him. Even if it wouldn't have worked, he'd never have known for sure unless he'd tried. "Cause he's the older brother. The protector."

He heard the sound of boots sliding off wood, looked up just in time to see Michael sitting forward in the chair, elbows on his knees. "Very good analysis on Castiel's part, I have to say." He nodded, half looking away as he answered. "Yes, there must be at least one strong common factor in those cases, preferably more. The more strong emotions or traits in common, the better the fit, typically. Jimmy Novak shared Castiel's fairly gentle nature, for example. As well as his intelligence, his capacity for love…excellent match, even though Castiel wasn't high ranking enough to exactly require it. It's only the strongest of us that really have to concern ourselves with it, with the vessels ability to truly contain us." His face flickered with something like worry, then, and Sam was pretty sure the indecision on Michael's face came from an ongoing argument with Dean. If it was going on, Michael interrupted it, looking up at Sam. "Lucifer is having this very problem, now. He may burn through more than one, in his time here, though he won't stop trying for the one he really needs."

He wanted to say so many things, then. Ever since he'd raised the Devil, the constant self hatred had been hovering in the back of his mind. The urge to fix things with Dean was even stronger, but ever since hearing that it sounded like he was supposed to be a vessel himself, there'd been other thoughts warring for control.

He'd already done enough damage to the world as it was. He wouldn't be part of doing any more, not even remotely, and he'd already proven just how well he could be trusted to just do the right thing. No matter what he'd learned or how hard he was trying, he sure as hell didn't trust himself and no one else smart should be trusting him either.

He skimmed his hands over the keys, typing nothing, thinking. "If his vessel…if it wasn't there for him to take, what would happen? He's not as powerful in another one, right?"

"No, he's not, but Samuel, that's not how this story ends." His words were serious, just a little sharp with something that would've sounded like worry if it was Dean. And if it was Dean, he'd be calling him Sammy right about then, heavy with concern and fear and a few years ago he'd have pretended he didn't like it, but nothing could've been further from the truth. He took a deep breath, shoved his chair back from the desk.

"Couldn't it? Look, I think we can both agree I've done enough, here, and-"

It was so easy to forget there was an angel in there sometimes, with how normal he acted. He startled when Michael was suddenly in front of him, crouched in front of his chair low enough to wrap his hands around his wrists, solid and tight.

"I've seen a couple possible futures, you know. I didn't like either of them." His hands tightened slightly, holding Sam's hands in place. "I will do everything in my power to keep them from happening, but you have to help me, Sam. You can't give up. I won't let you give up, and besides, do you think it's what your brother wants to hear right now, hm? Do you have any idea what everything you just implied is doing to him?"

That was a low blow, in his opinion. Hurting Dean all over again, yeah that was exactly what he was going for. He swallowed, focused on the computer screen. There was a map of Austin there, cell reception showing up perfect and stable. "Dean, I…you gotta understand, man, I'm tired of doing the wrong thing, you know? I didn't listen to you, and I-"

"He doesn't want to talk about it right now. He's…adamant he'll have this conversation with you without me present, and however much I disagree with him, I can respect that. But Sam, look at me."

He did, even though he didn't want to. His eyes were bright green, open and honest and stung all over again just to glance at him, much less to keep looking.

"If you want to stop hurting him, then start trying. At this point, everyone knows you're sorry, and dwelling on it only gives Lucifer more to prey on when he speaks to you. He attracts the miserable, Sam, and he will use your pain against you if you don't force yourself to deal with it and move forward." He released his wrists slow, rubbing his thumbs over the veins. "Besides, I've seen that future, and he doesn't let you take yourself out of the picture, I promise you that. Six months in hell, and you're his. And the world is gone."

Sam swallowed, looked away. Six months to break him…he wasn't sure he wanted to know if that was earth time or hell time. He was afraid of the answer. "The other future…what happened there?"

Michael stood up, flexing his hands slowly. "Dean said no." Michael hesitated, clearly on the edge of telling him more. "He said no to both of us."

His heart stuttered, a sick feeling settling in. "He already-"

"No, Sam. What he told you in that parking lot, that wasn't 'no'. That was him hurting, wanting you to fix things but not knowing where to start. He didn't want to give you false hope, but he had it all the same. No, the no I'm talking about refers to him saying no to me, and the two of you hunting together for awhile longer and meeting one of the Horsemen in a town in Colorado, and you telling him you thought it best if you separated for awhile." Sam could feel Michael looking at him then, steady and unblinking. "You were surprised that he let you go, and the first time Lucifer approached you, you called him, wanting to come home. And he said no. And six months later, you said yes."

You said yes. That proved even more that everything he'd said about himself a few minutes ago had been right. He proved time and again that he couldn't make the right decision, not ever. And like he'd told Cas yesterday, no matter how much he wanted to keep saying no, if Dean was involved all bets were off. He couldn't be sure, now, of what Lucifer had told him in Detroit, but if he'd said yes it seemed a pretty fair bet Lucifer had promised something for Dean in the trade. At the very least, he would have had to have promised Sam that if he said yes, everything would be over and none of it would hurt any more.

He laughed, sharp. "Sounds wonderful. So both ways, we're screwed, huh?"

"No. The second way has already been prevented by the fact that Dean said yes to me. What pieces of it could still happen, I don't know. And the other…I know you're smart enough not to take that way, not now."

Sam rubbed a hand over his jaw, thinking. He seriously needed a shave. Not to mention a shower. "So can you keep looking? Tell us what steps we have to take to get just right? I mean I know that's probably a lot of different futures to look at, but with so much riding on this I'd say it's worth it."

"It would be, but I can't. We can't just play with the future, Sam. We can go to the past however many times we like; it can't be changed. The future, however…we can only use the future to serve certain purposes, see certain ends." He shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunching as he looked out the window. "In order to make sure I was properly motivated, my Father wanted me to see what would happen if I should fail either of you." He shook his head, visibly troubled. "And He was right. After seeing them…I won't let it happen. I won't let my brother win. I won't let you lose. I'm sorry that it turned out this way for you, but there really is so much weight on your shoulders, Sam. If he can't get you, he probably won't win. But if he does, he probably will."

It was a little funny, really. He'd always thought if he took more responsibility on himself he could take care of Dean, show him that he didn't always have to be looked out for, that sometimes he could watch out for his brother, too. Not to mention, back before he was old enough to think of really leaving hunting he'd always thought that if he could run a case all by himself, maybe then his dad would be impressed. Responsibility wasn't all it was cracked up to be. This…this was terrifying. "Dean?" He bit his tongue, immediately hating how lost he sounded. Dean was dealing with enough already without him adding to it.

Michael stepped closer, looking down at him. "Dean has faith in you. As do I." Something in the way he said it was enough to have Sam looking up at him, curious, but he didn't have long to try to decipher it, whatever it was.

"Think we've got something here." Sam jerked forward to sit up in his seat, looking over to where Bobby was wheeling himself in from the hallway, a few papers held up in his hand. "Lexington, Kentucky. From what I can tell, cell reception died in a radius around there just a couple hours ago at most."

"Right." Michael was all motion then, eyes glinting with excitement. "Call Castiel."

Man O' War Boulevard was quiet, and that alone was enough to tell him Bobby had been right. There were cars alright, plenty of them, but every one he could see from here had been deserted. The door of the black hummer next to them was flung open wide, alarm dinging to alert anyone listening to the key still in the ignition.

Yeah. This is like Oregon, alright. Minus the creepy road sentinels.

I'm sure they're here, farther down. This road circles around Lexington; I put us near the middle of the circuit. Croatoan likes to choose a central point to mark his tree. This is as good a place to start as any.

I'm guessing the carving on the tree's a spell? Something that requires sacrifice?

Actually, no. It's just a focus to his power. He could write the word anywhere, but carving it into something living or once living seems to give it a little more strength, initially. After the virus starts to spread, however, I'm not certain destroying the original carving would have any effect whatsoever.

Peachy.

"He's still here." It was the first Castiel had spoken to him since the night before, and still it was terse.

Michael nodded, his shoulder blades practically itching already to set his wings free. "I can feel him, too." He was a presence in the air, something sinister and heavy that seemed to weight down the very clouds. They hung low and grey over the city, almost blocking out the sun. "Alright, we can take the city in sections. Castiel, -"

"I'm not taking orders from you, Michael." He bristled a little at that, frustrated. It had never been about orders before. They'd fought together many times, over the years, and Castiel had always deferred to him and his rank readily, though considering their friendship they stayed on largely even ground. He wasn't trying to be overbearing, really, but someone had to be in control here.

C'mon, how much do you really expect of him, huh? Give him a break, will you, he looks terrible.

That much was certainly true. He'd come back looking more exhausted than any angel had a right to, and if Castiel had been speaking to him he'd have told him he needed to get some rest. Separation from Heaven didn't seem to be agreeing with him. Or separation from Dean, obviously.

He let out a sharp breath, frustrated. "Stop acting like a child. We have to work together, and what I was about to say makes the most sense. Take whichever direction you like, left or right, and we work our way through the city. They'll be setbacks, once they're infected there's no saving them." He explained only for Sam's benefit. Castiel knew all too well how a Croatoan outbreak went, after all. He'd been through them before. "None of us here can be infected so there's no need to be careful with the blood when you're fighting them. Just get the job done and keep moving; there's no time to focus on killing them all. I know it seems wrong not to stop and save who we can, but if we don't catch him while he's here, they'll be hundreds more dead in the next city before we can reach him." He looked out off the overpass, already planning his first move. "Sam, you'll stay with one of us. Let's go."

"Wait." From the look in his eye, he knew what Sam was going to ask before he said anything, and by the stir of impatience he felt from Dean, he knew it too.

Dammit, Sammy, just go with it, will you?

"Like you said, I can't be infected any more than you can. We'd cover more ground if we all split up." He held his head high, stubborn and daring one of them to point out the fact that he'd brought this all down on them. He was either masochistic or truly hopeful, though Michael tended to think it was a mix of both.

"On the off chance that Lucifer does show his face here, you don't need to face him alone, and I can't find you if you run into trouble. Now, let's go."

Castiel looked to Sam first, quickly registered his hesitation. Sam edged just a little closer to Michael, his intentions clear. Even if it wasn't his brother all the way, he still preferred to stay with Dean. Commendable, and not unexpected. Castiel nodded once before unfolding his wings and taking flight, darting left.

Whoa. I could never really see him do that, before, but…that was pretty freakin' cool.

Michael couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head. Yes. Flight, another advantage of sharing space with an angel.

And I keep tellin' you, there are no advantages. I'm just sayin', it was nice gettin' to see that, for once. But I'd have skipped it if it meant skippin' all this, too.

Your stubbornness is epic.

"You ok, Dean?"

Will you tell him to stop askin' if I'm ok? For as long as I've got you riding my ass, think I'm as 'ok' as I'm gonna get.

"He's fine, Sam. We were discussing the…possible merits of him being able to see with my vision. And he doesn't want you to worry so much, he says he's as good as he's going to get."

Sam nodded, ran a hand down the barrel of his shotgun to pull it into a better grip. "Yeah. Ok."

And there he goes with that face. Always thought surely to God he was gonna outgrow that someday.

Wishful thinking. It's too instinctive for him to give up, not to mention too effective.

Whatever. Tell him to stop makin' the 'you just killed my puppy' face.

We have to get moving, Dean. He reached out, steered Sam to the side with one hand on his shoulder. "Come on. We need to get started. Also…" He stepped over a fallen motorcycle, leading them off of the highway. "He says for you to stop making the 'you just killed my puppy face'."

Sam laughed at that, bright and real. "Let me get this straight, Dean…you've got that elaborate of a description for it in your head? Cause usually I just get 'stop with the emo face' or some shit like that."

Bitch.

This reminded him a little of the old human game of telephone, something he'd seen a few times in little ones he'd been assigned to watch over. A lot of back and forth, and something was usually lost in translation. Still, it didn't take much of his focus to relay messages, and as long as he still had an eye out, it didn't matter. "He called you a bitch."

Sam's face fell a little at that, though he recovered quickly. "Jerk." He muttered it under his breath, soft with affection, and Michael could feel Dean push against his control. It was weaker this time, more resigned and automatic than actual desperate scrambling. Sam cleared his throat, looked down the side road they were walking past before bringing his eyes back down to the ground just in front of his feet. "I don't know, Dean, you've got some interesting ones yourself. How about the 'I think I'm having an orgasm while eating this' face that you get over pie or bacon cheeseburgers, huh?"

There was a twinge in the air, something cold that he felt in his bones more than on his skin and Michael threw an arm out, catching Sam across the chest. "Quiet." Wherever he was now, he'd been here, or at least somewhere very close by. There was a house to the right with the front door hanging off his hinges and he headed toward the porch, finger to his lips signaling Sam into full silence. He was almost sure to be gone, but if he could get a good sense of his trail from inside, maybe he'd be able to tell where he'd gone from here.

They moved inside the door in perfect formation, and he marveled for a moment at how in sync Dean's body was with Sam's without him even putting very much effort into it. They moved the same way, and when he stepped inside first Sam covered the door and his back, movements smooth but wary.

We've had a lot of practice, you know.

Yes, I know. Doesn't make it any less impressive.

It wasn't a large house, and by the time they'd made it through the living room and the kitchen it seemed obvious it was empty, and whoever had been here had left in a hurry. In the kitchen a drawer was yanked open, knives scattered all over the floor, and that was all the evidence needed to show whoever had been here had been infected when they left. Whenever he'd been here, Croatoan was likely gone now. He tended to stay through to the end of his outbreaks, watching the chaos, but if there was nothing else to see here he'd have moved on.

Still they checked down the hall, just in case. Better to be thorough than wrong. At the first door on the right he covered Sam while he moved in, his attention zeroing in when he heard Sam curse. He stepped inside, ready to deal quickly with whoever it was. A crib stood in the center of the room and Michael understood immediately, shaking his head as he watched Sam try to control the urge to pick the little girl up.

"Leave her, Sam."

Jesus, it's just a baby, have a heart will you? I mean, I can be pretty damn cold myself but-

But nothing, Dean. It's not a child, not anymore. She's dead already, and believe me, no one regrets that more than I do, but trying to care for the shell that's left does nothing to end this.

Sam swallowed, one hand falling from his gun to clench tight around the top railing. "Are you sure? She's-"

"The only reason she isn't jumping you now is that she isn't old enough." He crossed the distance between them, spared a glance in the crib. She was still, staring up at Sam with eerie calm, the blood mostly clotted in the gash on her tiny forearm. He wrapped his hand around Sam's wrist, pulled his hand firmly away. "She's dead. We have to keep moving."

"Couldn't you-"

"There is no helping them, Sam!" The fact that Sam had kept any measure of his idealism after everything he'd been through was encouraging to see, really. Even so, now wasn't the time for it, and in all honesty he didn't like being reminded of his failings any more than anyone else did. An angel of his rank could heal almost anything, but Croatoan's virus was debilitating, impossible to fight. Once he claimed a victim, they were already lost. He turned to the door, headed out into the hallway. "If we want this finished, we have to find him. Quickly."

There wasn't much hesitation before he heard Sam's footsteps on the hardwood, following him back out the door. From the front porch they could hear the baby cry when they slammed the door, and out of the corner of his eye he caught the way Sam flinched, something soft in his eyes Michael hadn't thought he'd see for a long time yet.

He's always had a soft spot for kids. And everyone else. He just-

Lost it, becoming you.

He could feel Dean riling up at that, a mixture of guilt and rejection warring in him. I never seriously told him he needed to be tougher. Hell, I called him out on how he was actin' before I-

Went to hell? Yes, you did, but remember Dean…you went to hell. You left him, and I'm not arguing your reasons or your choice, but he was alone. You meant everything to him and he lost you, and he couldn't cope unless he changed. And he hand, drastically. From his vantage point he'd been able to see it all unfold, and he could still remember the cold look in Sam's eyes as he'd killed his second crossroads demon, drunk off his ass and missing his brother so much he was nearly crazy with it. And Ruby, she was waiting for him to play right into her hands.

So this is all my fault, huh? He's totally unaccountable for his own actions; it's all on me cause I should've…what? Managed to claw my way out of hell?

Michael took a deep breath, clenched his jaw and looked over to make sure Sam hadn't caught onto their argument. He was scanning houses, gun held close as they walked down the street. Dean, I never said it was all your fault. All I'm saying is everything this deep has more than one facet. Unless you fully saw him fall apart, you can't judge how he put himself back together.

So far, Castiel had killed 10 and still had gotten nowhere. He'd passed at least four riots, and he'd been tempted to call Sam and let him know that most of the action seemed to be on this side of town. Still, he'd stopped himself just short of pulling out the phone every time. He hadn't actually seen Croatoan or even felt his presence too strongly in any one place yet, and until he did he wasn't ready to have Michael tagging along. He wanted to wait for that until it was absolutely necessary, and even when it was he wasn't looking forward to it.

He wished more than anything he never would've agreed to letting Michael come back. Having him around was too much contrasting emotion all rolled up into one big mess. He missed Dean, and he felt guilty for alienating himself from him when he was already going through something he never should have had to endure. He wanted Dean, and that led to another fresh found of guilt at the fact that it wasn't just Dean in there anymore and he shouldn't be wanting him at all. And then there was the problem of Michael himself, the older brother he'd always loved as one of his closest friends. He'd been a bit of a loner for the most part, but Michael, Hadriel and Gabriel, they had been his friends and his favorite brothers. Gabriel had vanished without a word decades before, and now Michael had betrayed him. In the end, his family was really no better than so many of the human ones he'd seen. Apply the right pressure and they pulled apart, far too easy to splinter.

When he came up on another riot he at first paid it little notice, and he was about to fly around the and skip to a street over when he saw him. He was sitting on a billboard overlooking the intersection where three men were holding a woman down, slashing open her shoulder to bleed into the cut. He was resting casually, one leg drawn up to his chest, and even from here Castiel could see the smile on his face as he heard the woman scream. He ducked into an alley quickly, phone up to his ear within a second.

After only one ring, Sam answered. "I've got him."

They were there before he could blink, Sam's eyes widening as he reeled a little from the high speed transport, one hand coming up to rub over his eyes.

Michael stepped up behind him at the mouth of the alley, close enough that he could feel his body heat behind him. Far too close for comfort. The shifted even closer to look over his shoulder, eyes scanning the crowd and he clenched one hand against the brick, felt it crumble against his palm. He still smelled like Dean.

"On the billboard." He jerked his chin up, pointing it out, and he heard Michael make a soft noise of assent.

"Alright. I can take him quick if he doesn't run, but I could use your help." He could feel Michael's eyes on him and he turned just enough to barely face him. There was open hope there, and he hated it.

"Diversion?"

"Herding. Get over on one of those streets back behind him, don't let him double back once I start after him. I just need to get a hand on him; I can finish him quick."

Yes, he definitely could. Whatever else he was, Michael was beyond doubt the greatest power in Heaven, a true weapon. Even as powerful as Croatoan was, Michael would be able to burn him from his host with hardly a thought. For him, however, Croatoan would be more than a match. If he did double back, he'd have to be ready for a fight. Still, the plan was sound. "Right." He prepared to take off, eyes already on the buildings in the background it looked best to wait between.

"Castiel." Michael's hand brushed against his wrist, warm and rough, and he jerked his arm, his skin burning. Michael's voice softened, low and more wounded than he had any right to be. "Be careful."

He refused to look back. "I'll be alright, Dean."

"That was my request, not his. Though he definitely agrees with it."

He had no answer for that, and he took off, taking his place quickly. He was ready, wings spread and arch high over his shoulders, his hands flexing anxiously. Sam had Ruby's knife, and he never would have taken it from him. Whether he was strong enough to take Croatoan with his knife or not, he could never take Sam's only real defense against a demon this strong. Even if Croatoan wasn't likely to kill him. He paced a little, anxious, his eyes narrowing in on the scene the moment he saw Michael take flight.

It was surreal, still, and the fear for Dean that rose hot in his chest when he saw them clash back against the billboard wasn't exactly surprising. There was a little bit a struggle, and for a minute he thought Croatoan just might slip away. He had to have been on edge, ready for something like this. He'd have felt them nearby, but he'd been too caught up in his own affairs to concern himself with their proximity.

His mistake. The minute Michael pressed his palm against his forehead, it was all over. There was a brilliant burst of white light, and he heard the demon scream as he burned. The body flopped empty in Michael's arms and he lowered it to the ground careful, easing it down beside all the others now littering the pavement. He took his time getting back over to them, and by the time he was there Sam was too, kneeling down next to the woman they'd seen be infected.

He brushed hair out of her eyes, something bitter in his voice. "They're all dead. I thought maybe after you killed him…"

"No, it doesn't work that way. Like I told you, the virus is a part of him, in a way…once they're infected, they're already gone. The minute it hits their bloodstream it's like an extreme form of possession; the virus is the only thing keeping them alive."

Michael brushed his hands off, met Castiel's eyes over the carnage in the street. "We should head back to Bobby's. Plan our next move." He smiled grimly, proud all the same. "He won't be happy about this."

No, Lucifer certainly wouldn't. "Sam, call when you need me."

He wasn't sure where he was going, then, but it definitely wouldn't be Bobby's.

Dean, I'm sure with some time he'll-

Don't. He could feel Dean trying to pull away from him, throwing up feeble walls that were nothing but transparent to him. He'd tried and tried to explain to Dean that nothing he did would keep him from reading Dean's emotions, but the man was far too stubborn for his own good.

All I'm saying is that this is hard for him, harder than I hoped it would be, yes, but I can see why he-

I said stop, dammit! You're…you're makin' him hate me, and I don't wanna talk about it, alright?

Michael shook his head, took another deep drag of his cigarette and leaned his head back against Bobby's roof. It was nice out here at this time of year if you didn't mine a little cold. Which, of course he never did. I am not making him hate you. He hates me, Dean, and you'll have to take my word for it but honestly, you're not the only one hurt by how he's taking this.

Dean was silent, a moment, and he could feel genuine surprise and more than a little anger. What, you expected him to just be all 'oh go ahead, take him, I'm fuckin' fine with that'?!

He smirked a little at the thought of Castiel cursing. He could still remember the first time he'd heard him get that violent over anything, the day their eldest brother had walked out of the family for good, taking a few of their brothers and sisters with him. He hadn't wanted to see the family torn apart, and he'd railed at the Heavens that this couldn't happen. Their Father had been silent. No, Dean, I didn't. I did expect, though, that he would understand I wasn't doing this to hurt him, that in my own way, I had no choice. I wanted… He licked his lips, tasting nicotine. I wanted him to be able to trust that for his sake as well as for my own reasons I would take every precaution with you. But, it seems he can't. He stubbed the cigarette out on the shingles, rubbing it and feeling the ash fall over his fingers. I'm going to check on Sam.

He appeared in the room just below them, focusing on the man sleeping sprawled out across the bed. He was twitching just a little in his sleep, sweating, his breath quick with something that seemed far too close to panic.

Shit, Sammy…

It's alright. I'll wake him up.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, reached out to gently grasp his shoulder. The bare skin was already damp with sweat, and he could feel the muscles quivering just under his touch. He shook him lightly, his voice soft and quiet. "Sam. Wake up, Sam."

He jerked awake with a start, eyes snapping open wide and terrified as he gasped for air. Michael tightened his grip, slid just a little bit closer. "It's alright. I know, you've been having nightmares since-"

Sam was shaking his head, his eyes still wide and a little shell shocked. He swallowed, took a deep breath though it did nothing to calm him. "Dean?"

'M here, Sam, it's ok. Tell him-

Wait.

There was dread settling in now, heavy and certain, and he moved close enough to meet Sam's eyes. "He came to you, didn't he?"

He who? What are you…oh hell no!

Sam nodded once, licked his lips as he looked down. "He said…he said I'm his vessel. And I told him I already knew, and I wasn't ever saying yes." He looked up again, something pleading in his eyes that tugged hard at Michael's urge to protect. "He said there was nothing I could do. He said whatever I do, he'll win, it's inevitable…and that you can't stop it either."

That took me way too many days to write, cause I kept having to write it in snatches. Grr. lol

Hope you all enjoyed it, and I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving!! (and thanks so much for the awesome comments so far! 3)