So I was going to write some nice PWP, and then the next chapter for To Reign In Hell. But then I was driving this morning, and the next chapter for this just kept playing in my head and I liked how it was going so much that I wanted to get it down before I lost it. So, here this is, MUCH sooner than I expected to be posting it. :P This will likely never happen again, so don't get used to it, haha

Thank you all so much for the wonderful comments though!!!! *hugs all around*

It was dark in the room and Castiel approached the crib slowly, his eyes on the man standing over it, leaning against the railing.

"There's something different about you, Castiel. I hadn't heard you were taking a new vessel."

"And I won't be, not for another 25 years."

"I see." He turned, looking back over his shoulder to get a better look. "Well, he suits you well, I can see that. What brings you here, then, my friend?"

He didn't answer right away, stepped closer until he could look over the end of the crib. He leaned on the wood casually, watching. "And as far as I knew you hadn't had a vessel since the 60's, Michael. What are you doing, hm?"

"You should be able to tell, Castiel." There was humor in his voice and he grinned, reached over the edge of the crib to dangle his hand just over the sleepy baby inside, smiling wider when one hand came up, reaching for him. "It's an illusion, so I won't frighten him. Any other child and I'd be burning his eyes out right now, but him and his brother and their father…it wouldn't hurt them to see me."

"And Mary?"

"I'd hear her coming." The child stirred a little more, a small frustrated noise close to a cry breaking the quiet. Michael shushed him, stroked a gentle hand over his cheek. "So, why the sudden interest in my past, Castiel, hm? Why have you come here?"

"It's not so much an interest in your past as it is in my own present." He turned his head to look at his older brother, face relaxed as he watched the baby's eyes starting to drift closed. "Don't take him, Michael. Don't make Dean say yes to you."

Michael smiled softly, shaking his head without looking up. "And here I thought you'd learned your lesson about changing the past after that one Thursday in 1929 when you couldn't stop the onset of the Great Depression. How many times did you restart that one before you gave up? And I told you then, brother, you-"

"Can't change the past. Yes, I heard you but I…" He licked his lips, pushed away from the crib and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, looking out the window onto the empty street. "I had to try. It was too important to not even try."

"Do we lose? Does Lucifer have the world already, where you come from?" He reached into the crib again, pulled the blanket up a little higher around the now sleeping child. His voice softened, barely above a whisper. "And do I really want to know? I'm not so sure…"

"It's not…" Frustrated, he paced, his eyes darting over the walls. He'd seen this room so many times in Dean's dreams. Never a perfect recreation, but always similar. "Dean goes to Hell, Michael."

"Yes, I know." He leaned against the crib backwards, elbows against the wood as he looked up at the ceiling. " 'And the First Seal shall be broken when a Righteous Man spills blood in Hell.' We've all heard it, many times."

"But what you don't know, what I didn't know until it happened…" He could still feel it all with such clarity, still see it in his mind. Blazing heat and fire and blood and screams, and the way Dean's broken soul had felt in his arms when he'd lifted him out of the Pit. "My garrison goes into Hell after him, and our Father passes down the order that I am to be the one to pull him out. And he is broken, scarred from his time with Alistair and I have to take from my own Grace to heal him." His voice gained strength, more forceful the more he remembered. He could remember the moment he'd felt Dean warm with life again, the moment he'd placed him back underground and watched him draw his first shaky breath. "And it was my right, my job to watch over him from that moment on and I asked you not to take him and you-"

"Stop." Michael was still smiling, and he'd never wanted to punch him more in their entire lives than he did right then. "All this time, and I never thought I'd see you really take to humanity. You love him, don't you?"

"More than you can understand, clearly."

Michael's eyes glinted at that, all warmth in his expression faded. "And that's where you're wrong." He crossed the room, closing the distance between them as he spoke, his voice dropping low, still full of force and quiet anger. "I've always found it a little interesting, the divisions in our family. You soldiers, you're just…blunt instruments, for the most part." Castiel felt his wings snap free from his shoulders, arching in anger and Michael held his hand out, pacifying. "Please. You know who I'm talking about. Raphael, Sandalphon, Uriel, Zachariah. Your superiors, and you've never liked them much more than I do. You on the other hand, we've always been close, and you know how I love you. But even so, there are things you only understand by doing, things it took you awhile to learn and others you never really grasped even when I tried to explain. You remember, don't you, when our Father made the prophesies known to all of us and you asked me why I'd risk death opposing Lucifer one on one when I could go broader, finish it much more quickly."

Castiel's voice rose in competition and he stepped closer, staring Michael down. "I was young then, I'd never even taken a vessel and I didn't understand about humanity, about-"

"And even after you learned, you only understood half the battle! You want to save this planet like I do and you have for a long time, I will certainly give you that, and I commend you for it. But the point I was making relates to what you've apparently so recently learned." His voice softened, eyes still hard and steady. "There's so much to love about them, isn't there? You see, what I was trying to point out is the fact that your kind, our Father made you to be the infantry. You're forbidden attachment, and for good reason. You have to be able to perform your duties free of favoritism, and I understand. But us? The very purpose for our existence mandates we not only be prone to attachment, we require it. He made me to love this planet with every inch of my soul, and I always have. I always will. They are beautiful in their imperfection, and even at their worst I've seen what they could be, not what they are." He shook his head, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders. "And I've watched over them at all times, as best I could. I have watched my youngest brothers have life after life in their hands, seen how they treasure the souls that belong to them by right of destiny and blood. I have watched their devotion time and again, and I have seen more than one love their charge enough to die for it."

He'd heard him talk about his work before, certainly, but there was an edge to it that was only now truly familiar. He wasn't sure whose job he'd taken when their Father had told him to watch over Dean, but he knew that something inside him had changed gradually from the moment he told Dean he wasn't there to perch on his shoulder to the way he felt now. The moment he'd broken with Zachariah, that had been exactly what he'd chosen, to be Dean's angel and Dean's alone, and he wasn't sorry.

"I couldn't understand what it was like to watch over a single soul before, no. But I do, now, and that's what I'm trying to tell you, what I tried to tell you before. I love him, Michael, and I know that no matter how hard you try, there's no guarantee that he won't die fighting Lucifer."

"Then we both die. I fail and the world ends anyway."

"If the world's ending, I'd rather have a chance to spend the end of it fighting with him."

"You have learned a lot from him, haven't you?"

"Yes." Everything. He'd learned everything important from Dean, from what it really meant to be family all the way to what was and wasn't worth dying for. "Even if…even if it doesn't end well, it's better to stick together."

Michael smiled, eyebrows slightly raised. "Dean?"

"Yes."

He nodded, slow. "Well, I'm proud. For the most part our family has never been the best example of unconditional love so I'm pleased you learned it somewhere, even if it wasn't from us."

"Love? If you loved me, Michael, you wouldn't-"

"It was over 400 years ago that the concrete plans for this started, do you remember? Gabriel was still with us, and the three of us were watching the atrocities of the Roman Inquisition." Yes, he remembered. They had still been brothers, then. "Raphael came to tell me Father wanted to speak with me, so I went, and I met with Him." He could see a shimmer of Michael's true form then, light bleeding out around the edges as he was lost in thought. "I was so…proud, at first. I'd been ready to face Lucifer again from the moment I'd caged him, and here He was, telling me that not only did I get a second chance, but I was going to be given a soul of my own to watch over." He paced, glancing over at Castiel as he spoke. "I'd wanted that for a long time, if you remember, and I was so eager, so ready to give my human all the formidable protection I have to offer. Imagine my surprise when he told me it would be years before I would be allowed to protect him." Their eyes met, and Castiel could see the flash of anger in his eyes.

Michael paced quicker, his eyes flicking over to the crib and he lowered his voice, trying to keep quiet. Pointless, really. If they didn't want the others to hear them, they wouldn't. "He told me everything about his life, everything I would have to watch, and when He was done, I asked Him, 'Father, haven't I always been a good son?'. I was…" He shook his head, fists clenching. "After all I'd done for Him, I couldn't understand why my Father would be so cruel. He showed it to me in snatches then, pieces of the whole. I would see him born, see him lose first his humanity and his mother and eventually everything that mattered to him, falling into the hands of a demon who would use him to raise our brother and make the final steps that would cement him as his rightful vessel, the prophesied Antichrist. And only then would I be allowed to intervene. He explained to me, then, that He needed me to need to win, to have so much at stake that I would not fail. Beyond that, that if we were to win, this man and his brother would be symbols of why we had. The power of family, and the power of redemption. For our victory to mean anything at all, they would both have to choose. One yes, the other no." He stopped, eyes gleaming with barely restrained power. "In less than three months, I will have to watch while Azazel damns him to a fate I would not have wished on the worst human I've ever encountered, and even though I could kill him hardly a thought, I will be powerless to stop it!' He took a deep breath, pulled his anger under just a little more control. "So don't lecture me about love, Castiel. Whatever bond you have with Dean, I'm happy for you. From what I've glimpsed of him in the future he is beyond all doubt a truly righteous man, and believe me, I care for him. Of all the vessels I've had, I could have never chosen one more suited for me. But I have no choice, Castiel. This is not only the world my Father put under my protection at stake, but the life of the only soul I've ever been allowed to even remotely have as my own. If taking Dean is how I save him and everyone else, I have no choice."

At first, he was stunned into silence. Like he'd told Sam, he'd known that there was a prophesy involving Michael and a potential Antichrist. Beyond that, he'd known that part of Michael's purpose in stopping the apocalypse was to protect and save Sam, and he'd assumed that was part of why he had to choose Dean as his vessel. He'd never known this. He could feel the anger leeching out of him, draining away under the weight of sudden sympathy. "You never told me." Even whispered, it was loud in the silence.

Michael shrugged, turned back the crib and leaned over it again, watching Sam while he slept. "I never told anyone. I kept it to myself, and I waited. I wanted to be angry, but…well, He's still our Father. He knows best. I would've fought hard to save Earth as it was, but making me love him? Smarter than anything He could've done, really. I won't let Lucifer get far enough to claim him. I'd rather die. And I'm sorry, about Dean. Truly, I am. But I'm sure I told you I'd take care of him."

"You did. And I told you I didn't believe you."

Michael chuckled, warm. "Is he making you more stubborn, hm? I seem to remember you as much more trusting than that."

He had been, once. He'd been trusting most of his life, though the decisions made by his superiors in recent decades had started to chip away at that. His doubts had started long before he met Dean, and everything he'd learned since then had only bolstered those doubts. No one was infallible, not even angels. Or even his Father, he'd decided recently. He leaned against the wall, let his head rest back against it. "Living down here changes everyone, doesn't it?"

"That it does. And, I'd imagine living through the apocalypse changes even more. How is it going?"

"You just killed Croatoan."

"Good for us then."

He laughed once, humorless. "I don't…I have no faith anymore, Michael. I can't see where this ends, and I don't want it to end with Dean alone."

"Then don't let it. I can't imagine I'm really keeping him from you, hm? Like I said, I don't want him hurt either. Besides the fact that I've never lost a vessel, hurting him hurts Sam. And you, apparently, and I'd have known that going in to it. Don't you think I'm going to be careful? And remember, at the end of this, you're still the lucky one. I give him back, crisis averted, and you can stay with him as long as you like. Me? If I'm incredibly lucky, I save the world and save his life and he doesn't absolutely hate me when I'm done. That's if I'm lucky, and that's damn well the best I can hope for. But I'm guessing Dean loves you, doesn't he?"

He did, Castiel knew it. Michael himself had read it in Dean's mind, the day he'd taken him as his vessel. He hadn't said it, not out loud, but it was there in every other way. He could see it Dean's eyes when they were together, could feel it in the way Dean had held him to his chest just a week ago in the backseat of the Impala, grip so tight it seemed he'd rather die than let go. "Yes. Yes, he loves me."

Michael pointed at him, giving him a half smile. "Then you already have me beat. You've got more than I ever have a chance for, Castiel. He loves you, and you'll get him back. You'll be together, and you can protect him for the rest of his life. I have no illusions that I can ever hope for more from Sam than a lack of hatred, but that'll be enough, so long as he lives."

He hadn't wanted to feel sorry for him. He'd come here to try and change his mind, to at least fight with him in a form that wasn't Dean, that he could hit if he wanted to and not feel guilty for it. Underneath all the anger, though, this was still his brother, and hearing all of this he couldn't help but feel for him. "I'm sorry."

"Yes. So am I." He stretched, humanlike until Castiel saw his wings arch out fully, wingtips brushing the walls in the typical broad span of an archangel. Without a true vessel they were in their real form, and the light that cascaded from them shimmered off the windows. "We shouldn't be fighting, you know. I've always hovered over Titus, but you and I have always been close as well, and I can see now just how much we have in common. These two? They're our Father's chosen, his favorite children. The fact that he's given us to them…that's something we share, not something to come between us. The way I see it, at least." Their eyes met, and he could feel Michael's sincerity. "We're brothers. Whether you agree with the rest of them or not, even if you still don't trust our Father's judgment, we're still family. And if I'm dealing with trying to end a war that was meant to take close to 40 years quicker than that and with as little loss of life as possible and making sure he doesn't get lured in by Lucifer, then I need you. Whether I've told you that or not."

He looked away, something far too close to guilt stirring in his chest. "You could've told me."

"Well, from what I can tell of your mood here, you've probably been just this side of open warfare with me, so I doubt I've gotten much chance to-"

"About Sam, Michael. You could've told me, years ago." If he'd known, he might could have helped things go a little differently. "I could've-"

"Interfered. And I wish you could. Like I said, I've seen snatches of the future. I've watched him crying on his brother's shoulder the night he loses the woman he loves to Azazel, and I was there, Castiel. I saw myself, there, watching. I'm not allowed to do anything but watch this play out, and you wouldn't have been allowed to, either."

"I don't care about the rules anymore, Michael! I'm not playing these games anymore, I've left! I left with Dean, and I fought Sandalphon over defying a prophet's word, and we changed what he had written, and I died for it! I'm not afraid to change the future, Michael. Not anymore." Something else Dean had taught him. When it was important enough, what was asked of you didn't matter anymore. Certainly not if it hurt the ones you loved.

"So you died…and you came back?" Castiel nodded, hesitant, and Michael spread his hands out, gesturing. "And you need more proof that that was what God planned all along? Castiel, if you weren't supposed to follow Dean, He would've left you dead. He doesn't resurrect for just anything, even more so among our kind and never for a traitor. As you know, the punishment for that is death or damnation. If you weren't doing our Father's true will, He would've never let you live."

So by disobeying, he was obeying. As if the everything wasn't complicated enough already. He shut his eyes, tried to clear his jumble of thoughts. He'd thought coming back here would burn off some of his anger at least, help him face Michael on more neutral ground. Now, he was more confused than anything else. He cleared his throat, spoke without opening his eyes. "He doesn't hate you, you know. At least, not like I do. He hates himself too much to leave room for anyone else, I think."

"Well, it's a start. Do you still hate me, Castiel? If it's a fight you came here for, I'll give to you but I'd rather not hurt you and you know that's all that'll achieve. And, I won't get to see him happy for long. I'd like to stay here and enjoy it, if you don't mind." There was nothing he could say to that, really, and he kept his mouth shut, listening to the ticking of the clock and Sam's soft breath. With his hearing he could hear his heartbeat, soft and fragile and hummingbird fast. "He's just down the hall, you know. You've never even seen him at this age, have you?"

He shook his head, slow. "No. I haven't."

"Well?"

He nodded, already turning toward the door. "Goodbye, Michael."

"To the right, first door on the left after the bathroom."

The door was open, and he walked in quietly, taking a seat on the toy chest by the window. The bed was much too big for him, and he was curled on his side under the blankets, his arm thrown over a stuffed lion. His sleep was even and peaceful, and when Castiel looked in on his dreams they were simple. Him and his father, working on the Impala. There was no fire, no pain, no fear. He had no idea that in just a few months, his peaceful life would be gone forever. There was a picture of John and Mary by his bed, another next to that of him holding Sam in rocking chair. The one closest to the edge showed John from his days in marines, young and proud and strong. He'd been one of the first casualties of this war, yet another Winchester lost to the cause. None of it seemed fair.

Dean rolled over in his sleep, sprawled on his back. A year from now he'd still just be five years old, and yet he'd already be sleeping light, ready to be on his feet and shielding his brother within seconds. His childhood would already be gone. He could understand why Michael had seemed so mesmerized with watching Sam like this, easily. For once, it was nice to see Dean without a care in the world.

He said whatever I do, he'll win, it's inevitable…and that you can't stop it either.

Dean felt the chill that ran through them both at the words, and he just barely kept from panicking. The fact that he could literally feel Michael's dread as well as his own told him it had to have been pretty strong, and that thought was nothing short of terrifying.

He's not right, right? I mean, he's-

No. The power behind the response took Dean a little by surprise, and he felt Michael take a deep breath to steady it, shaking his head once and muttering 'no' a little less violently under his breath. He's lying, Dean. Trying to frighten him. He'll pick at his weakness, next. His fears, his shortcomings…anything he sees as a chink in his armor.

Michael looked up, eyes locking with Sam's. Jesus, he still looked so fucking terrified. "Samuel, listen to me, alright? Listen." He'd been staring ahead will all the focus of rabbit looking down the barrel of a shotgun but he seemed to calm just a tiny bit at that, recognition in his eyes starting to show. "Lucifer is an incredibly good liar, Sam. He can read your mind, and he will tell you whatever he thinks he needs to to make you listen. He is cunning, and magnificent, and not only will he go after your weakness but he'll try to appeal to your sympathy, if he thinks he can. He is a master of disguise, both his words and his own form."

Sam nodded at that, looking down. "He was ah…I thought he was Jess, at first."

Son of a bitch! It was bad enough that the fucking bastard had forced his way into Sam's dreams, but to do that? He could feel Michael's anger rising, mixing with his own, and for the first time he couldn't help but wonder if this was exactly why this was supposed to work, if when it came down it they could kill Lucifer through force of their combined hatred.

Michael nodded, let his hand slip from Sam's shoulder. "Taking a familiar form to put you at ease before he sprung everything on you. Yes, that sounds like our brother." He tucked his wings and moved quickly, appearing on the other side of the bed, sitting back against the headboard. "Sam, I need you to tell me everything he said. All of it, even if it doesn't seem important." He reached into Dean's jacket pocket, pulled out his lighter and the box of cigarettes. He tipped it toward Sam first, offering. "Here. It'll calm your nerves."

Sam shook his head, sitting back and rubbing his face hard. "No thanks."

Michael shrugged, took his own out and lit it, breathing deep. "Alright. Start at the beginning."

Sam was hesitant, and when he started it was slow. "Alright, ah…I was asleep. Here, at Bobby's, and I thought I'd woken up, but she was here and…" He shook his head, incredulous. "It was stupid, thinking somehow I was talkin' to her, it was-"

"That's not stupid, Sam. Not at all. Go on."

"She had been saying that I couldn't change, I couldn't…deny what I was, even if I wanted to. And Lucifer, when he showed himself, he was saying first how he wanted to thank me for releasing him, to give me something, and I told him there was nothing I wanted from him." Even angry as he had been about everything else, Dean couldn't help feel a fierce burst of pride at that. Deep down, he'd known that Sam could come around, that underneath all the shit Ruby had gotten him to believe his Sammy was still in there, somewhere. "And he said, ah…he said that I was his vessel, and I told him I knew, and I wasn't saying yes. And he told me pretty much what you did, that I couldn't die because he wouldn't let me."

Something flickered in his eyes, then, and Dean could tell there was something about this he really wasn't wanting to say.

"He said that he'd never lie to me, and he'd never try to trick me…" He looked up, eyes flicking over to Michael. "But that you had, and you'd keep doing it, and you'd never trust me even if I kept telling him no." He sped up, pushing quickly through the rest of it. "Then he said that he felt bad for me, and he wished things hadn't turned out this way but that if I said yes to him, it'd all be over, and I wouldn't have to worry about anything else."

Michael laughed at that, sharp and cold. "Yes. He's right, it's not easy to worry when you're in impossible agony. Even harder when you simply cease to exist."

If he'd had control of his own body, he knew he'd have been turning white right about then. He takes control, and that's it? No saving Sam, not ever? Not even if we could get him back out?

He takes control, Dean, and there's no Sam left to save. It'll be torture, at first, and then he'll be gone. Even his soul.

Jesus… As recently as just a couple weeks before he'd been trying so hard to convince himself that at this point there was nothing he couldn't endure, even losing Sam. He'd thought that after having to watch his little brother become the monster he never wanted him to be, even seeing him die wouldn't have had the impact it once had. Even considering the thought, now, he could see just how wrong that was. If he lost Sam now, he'd fall apart just like he had in Cold Oak, and if there was no chance of ever saving him after that, no way of bringing him back…

Stop. It won't get that far, Dean, I won't let it, do you understand? We aren't losing Sam, not like this.

We?

Michael shifted the cigarette between his fingers, sifting off ash and making it vanish before it hit the bed. "As for what he said about me…well, he would try to turn you against me, of course. He knows I want to help you. I haven't lied to, Sam, and I won't. Not ever. But I can't say I didn't trick you, and I won't say I'm sorry. I had my reasons, and I stand by them. And just because I won't tell you what they are doesn't mean I'm lying to you, because I'm not. It just means…" He took another drag, buying himself a second. "You wouldn't understand. But I won't trick you again, I promise. And I absolutely will never lie to you."

There was a flutter of wings then and they both looked up, Dean feeling a shock of surprise to see Castiel standing at the end of the bed. He was still paler than he should've been and his eyes looked tired, but for the first time he was actually looking at Michael without glaring or flinching away, and Dean tried not to let himself get too hopeful.

"Cas?" Sam spoke first, questioning, and Cas turned toward him.

"Hello, Sam." His eyes flicked between them, curious. "What's going on?"

"Lucifer was in his dream, Castiel." His eyes smoldered at that, and warmth settled in Dean's chest at the sight. Cas loved Sam too, and whether it was just for his sake or not, he didn't really care. It was good to see either way.

"Are you alright, Sam?"

Sam nodded, a little too quick. "Yeah. Yeah, m' fine."

The look that Cas gave Michael then was somewhere between knowing and furious, and through Michael's surprise he seemed a little pleased. "He tried telling him I was a liar who cared nothing about him, and that he felt his pain. And that if he said yes, everything would be happily over, of course."

Castiel's eyes narrowed, dangerous. "Can we track him? If he comes into his dream again and one of us is watching-"

"If it's you, he'll pull you in and kill you there, you know that. And if he can sense me watching, he won't show up at all."

He'll what?

Don't you remember anything about using the African Dream Root, hm? It'd be even easier than that for him to kill Castiel, honestly, because to walk a human's dream we put our whole selves into them. It takes a great deal of power anyway, and Lucifer is so far beyond him that he wouldn't even be able to run before he caught him.

Then him he's out of his fucking mind! We'll find him another way, just-

Are you not listening? I already told him no, there's no sense in overreacting.

"Dean?" If he could've, he wouldn't jumped. He hardly ever got addressed these days, and even then 90% of the time it was Sam. Michael had been watching Sam while they argued, but he apparently felt Dean's need to see Cas' face then because he obliged, turning to face him. His eyes were startlingly blue, brighter than they had been in days.

As good it was to hear from him, he couldn't help but still be a little wounded. Selfish, maybe, but after all he was the one stuck inside his own goddamn head. If this was hard for anybody, it was hard on him. Decided he's talkin' to me now, huh?

Michael hesitated, licking his lips. "He's...upset, that you haven't been speaking to him. In his defense he hasn't been adjusting to this all that well, and from what I can tell it's bothered him that you've been punishing him for saying yes to me."

Yeah, that pretty much summed it up. At the same time, though, it was fucking frustrating to have Michael there reading his every thought, because while he might have been feeling that way, it didn't mean he wanted Cas knowing it.

Something softened in his eyes and he reached out, only hesitating a second before fitting his hand against his shoulder, the gesture plain even if Dean couldn't feel his hand against the print through his clothes. "I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry."

He wanted so desperately to touch him then, to pull him in and kiss him, tell him he didn't need to apologize. To at least rip the damn jacket off so he could slide his hand up under the sleeve and touch him, the contact at that one point strong and electric. But there was Michael, and no matter how hard he pushed he wasn't getting anywhere. And even if there hadn't have been Michael, there was Sam, and even though he knew Sam knew, now, he'd still have rather talked to him about it before he kissed Cas in front of him. All things considered, he said only what he knew. Ok. Tell him it's ok.

You need to work on your communication you know.

Oh, like I need relationship advice from you. Tell me, when was the last time you-

It was just a suggestion, Dean.

"It's ok. He's ok."

Cas pulled his hand away slow, a little reluctant. That was a good sign, at least. Dean could feel Michael's curiosity rising, and he wasn't that surprised when he turned to Sam. "You should get some rest, Sam."

Sam nodded, clearly distracted, and Michael held his hand out, two fingers outstretched. "I can't do this all the time, but if you wanted…you won't dream."

It was only a second before Sam nodded, shutting his eyes as he leaned his head back against the wall. "Yeah. Yeah, ok."

Michael reached out and brushed his fingers across his forehead, his touch light. He was out immediately, and Michael eased him down with strong hands, pulling the blanket up around his shoulders as he stood up.

"He's afraid."

Michael nodded without looking up, his hand lingering a second longer on Sam's shoulder. "Wouldn't you be?"

Stuff like that, that was exactly what had Dean worried. This was the damn devil they were talking about. Even the most badass angels were afraid of him, and here he was, gunning for Sam. They really did have the world's most horrible luck.

"Michael, I'm sorry." His head shot up at that, startled. "I didn't realize-"

"Just who have you been talking to, Castiel? Not our Father?"

Wait, what makes you think he just came out of a conversation with God, huh?

"No." Cas looked him in the eye, managing it once again without open hostility. "You."

Whoa, what?

Michael seemed to think it over for a moment before he smiled, laughing a little as he made his way over to the door. "I remember now. At the time, I wasn't sure just when you'd come from, exactly, so I'd almost forgotten." He pulled the door open, stepping out into the hall and waiting against the wall for Cas to follow. "So, I had an impact? You've always been stubborn, I wasn't sure I'd gotten through to you at all."

"If you'd told me sooner, I might have-"

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather keep this between us for now, hm?"

Cas tilted his head, and Dean could tell he wasn't exactly comfortable with keeping it a secret, whatever 'it' was. Keep what between you two? What aren't you tell me?

Nothing that concerns you, Dean.

Cas gave in, nodding once. "Yes. Alright."

"So…" Michael leaned fully up against the wall, arms crossing over his chest. "Am I forgiven?"

Cas almost smiled, and for the first time since all of this had started Dean was almost happy. "You? I'm working on it. Dean on the other hand, I still owe him a proper apology." His eyes flickered to Michael's shoulder, purposeful, and he uncrossed his arms, sliding the jacket it off and letting it fall to the floor. Cas was already moving to step in closer when Dean gathered his thoughts enough to speak up.

Get rid of the shirt. If Cas was actually gonna touch him, he wanted to feel him everywhere. It had been too fucking long already. Michael nodded, understanding. "He wants…here." He took the hem of the shirt in his hands and yanked it over his head, dropping it beside the jacket in the hallway.

Cas' eyes roved over his chest, and Dean could see them darken with lust as his breath quickened. He licked his lips before he closed the distance between them, his hand fitting against the mark at the same time his lips closed over his pulse.

Fuck, Cas! Touching him there always heightened sensation for both of them, and after going without his touch entirely he could feel everything in him buzzing with the power of it. Now that he'd touched him Cas had loosened up a little and his other arm wrapped around his waist, their chests pressed together as his lips roved over his neck. It was dizzying, and for awhile he did nothing but bask in it, lost in the way Cas' teeth and tongue felt against his skin.

He'd gotten used to his odd disembodiment of feeling but not controlling, and so at first he didn't notice that he was all that physically effected. He could feel everything, sure, but he'd gotten so caught up in the white hot pleasure of the connection between them that it was a moment before he felt himself hardening against Cas' hip. And yeah, being horny was a state totally out of conscious control, but he was somewhere in the back of his own head, incapable of even unconcious control. Which meant Michael was getting something out of this, too.

When Cas had first come storming out of the house, furious and hurting, Dean had told Michael then that anything that made Cas feel better about all this was perfectly fine with him. Hell, he'd thought that if they were still sleeping together, that'd be one thing to make this not suck quite so much. Of course then Cas had gotten so touchy about it all that that had seemed out of the question, but he'd still been sure he wouldn't object if it came up.

Now, though…well, now that it was happening, he was a hell of a lot angrier than he'd expected to be.

Hey! He's not yours, goddamit! That's…that's for me, not you, and you-

Really?! Are we really going to have this discussion? In case it's escaped your notice, I am in your body, Dean! Disregarding the fact that any human man would respond to this, your body responds particularly well to his, for obvious reasons.

Yeah, because he's mine! Irrational or not, he couldn't help it. The thought of anyone else getting off from Cas' touch infuriated him.

For the last time, I don't want him! I don't care! Look, like you said, this is for you, alright? Just enjoy it. He's my brother, Dean, can you understand that? Believe me, I'm not trying to take him from you. I'm just…incapable of not enjoying it.

Cas slowed then, clearly feeling the way Michael had tensed in his arms. He brushed his lips over damp skin, his breath ragged. "Dean?"

If it's really what you want, I'll tell him to stop. But I swear, Dean, this isn't…I'm not trying to take anything from you. If anything, I'm willing to give you this, since I've taken so much else from you.

Looking at it that way, it seemed a little better. Slightly. He still wasn't sure he liked it, but at the same time he had to decide fast, and he honestly didn't want Cas to stop. Tell him…tell him I missed him. True, and effectively evading the question of whether or not he was really ok with this.

Michael licked his lips, tilted his head back a little farther against the wall. "He missed you."

Cas held him tighter, breath hot against his neck. He shifted closer, and if he could've Dean would've moaned when Cas' hip pressed harder against his groin. "Dean, I-"

Just then, from downstairs they could hear the sound of someone knocking hard on the door.

:D

Oh, and I know I introduced a really new plot point in this chapter, and I really hope you don't all hate it, ^^