"Merry Christmas, Baby Girl."
Skylar gazed at Dean, her mouth hanging open in shock.
Blood caked one side of his head, seeming out of place considering the big smile and bottle of champagne he held in his hand.
She hadn't been expecting him.
In fifteen years, he had never shown up for Christmas. He hated holidays. He said it was like every other damn day of the year except you were forced to spend hard earned money on unnecessary food and gifts. She never pointed out that his "hard earned money" was not actually his. He scammed his way through life. But after all – he was saving the world. In his defense, several wrongs did make a right.
He walked past her into the foyer, looking around at the decorations that she had hung up. Maybe she had gone a little overboard, but it was Christmas vacation; two weeks spent trapped in the house with Ike. School was like an escape hatch, so she had to get creative whenever she had no way out.
"Dean? What are you doing here?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion as she closed the door behind her.
For a moment, she thought she saw something hidden in his features. But he quickly covered whatever it was, once again, smiling in her direction. "Can't I come and see my best girl on her favorite holiday?"
Skylar winced at his words. Best girl…
No, she wasn't his best girl anymore. She wasn't sure she had ever been his best – girl.
It had been two years since she found out about Cassie. Sure, he and the other girl had broken up a while ago, but some things were just unmendable. It wasn't the same anymore. She could barely look at him without wanting to take a shot gun to his gorgeous face.
He fell for another girl, and now, Skylar knew he was capable of falling in love with someone else. She no longer wanted to get attached to him. At any time, it could happen again. After all, there was zero chance of him keeping it in his pants. The odds were stacked against them.
However, they still had their moments.
A little over a year ago, he had shown up for Halloween and tagged along while she went trick-or-treating with the few friends she did have. Instantly, the girls had melted at the sight of him. She couldn't blame them.
Dean Winchester was delicious.
And that was the problem.
Skylar wanted to hate him. But every time he insisted on showing up on her doorstep, she was reminded of how perfect he really was…if you took a moment to forget the whoring, blind rage, and drunkenness, that is.
And maybe it was her fault that he chose to knock on her door more frequently than ever without calling. She rarely took his calls anymore. He had no choice but to drive and see her.
"Where's your dad?" he asked, the distain in his voice evident every time he mentioned her father.
"Upstairs."
"Good," Dean nodded his dead before motioning towards the kitchen for her to follow. "Take a seat, Sky. You and I are going to celebrate."
She watched him open the bottle of champagne with expert fingers as it made a "popping" sound. He grabbed two glasses from the cupboard, holding both in one hand by the stems as he poured the bubbling liquid into both glasses.
Skylar rose her eyebrow in surprised as he handed her one. He smirked, giving her a knowing wink.
Reluctantly, she took the glass and watched as the bubbles began to disappear. She didn't question why he was giving her this. Obviously, she wasn't going to turn it down.
"What's this for?"
Dean downed his champagne in two gulps, shrugging as he poured himself another. "I just ganked a couple of gods, Sammy and I realized how important holiday's with family really are for the first time in nearly twenty-five years, and…as we were opening our store bought gas stations gifts, I realized what truly matters in life."
Skylar brought the glass to her lips, taking a sip of the sweet liquid. She shuddered lightly, but not necessarily in a bad way. She had never had alcohol of any type before. Anything new was bound to taste a little funky at first. Immediately, she took another sip, looking over the rim at Dean, waiting for him to continue.
"You're my family, too, Sky," he surprised her by saying. "I just want you to know that."
She coughed lightly at his confession, spitting some of the liquid back into her glass, completely taken off guard by this new side of Dean. He looked so sincere and genuine that she wasn't sure what to make of it.
Clearing her throat, she didn't know what to say, so she changed the subject.
"Um, what happened to your head?" she asked, taking another sip until the liquid was entirely gone.
He stared at her for a moment, his eyes looking at her with a mixture of amusement and something else deeper that she didn't want brought to the surface. Maybe a few years ago…but not now. Taking a deep breath, Dean finally looked away to pour them both another glass.
"I got bashed in the head tonight. Hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, but it comes with the job description and I might have a massive concussion right now, but what's new? As long as I stay awake for about twenty-four hours, I'll live."
She nodded her head, knowing that whenever Dean and Sam got hurt on the job, very rarely did they go to the hospital. Unless they were on life support or figuring out a way to cheat death, they just "slapped a bandage on it" and called it a day.
"Maybe you should clean that up," Skylar said, taking another long sip of her drink. "It looks a little gross."
Dean smirked when she wrinkled her nose in disgust and grabbed the bottle of champagne from the counter before walking out of the kitchen towards the stairs.
"Good idea," he said, walking backwards with that lazy grin on his face. "Let's go."
"We can't go upstairs," Skylar said in a hushed tone, quickly following behind him when she realized where he was headed. "My dad's up there."
"Fuck, Ike," Dean said, taking the stairs two at a time, not bothering to whisper. "I dare him to say anything to me. His bark is worse than his bite. Unlucky for him…I'm the exact opposite."
Skylar rolled her eyes, literally running after him. When he slowed down but kept talking at a normal volume, she pushed him until he stumbled into her bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her. She pinned him with an annoyed glare before he said, "If you wanted me in your room so bad, all you had to do was ask, Baby Girl," he said with a wink.
She rolled her eyes, ignoring the jump in her heart. "You know I can't stand it when the two of you fight. Just once, I wish you would both put away your toxic masculinity and stop being apes for two freaking seconds."
"Toxic masculinity?" Dean scoffed, flipping the light switch on in her bathroom. "I think school is beginning to brainwash you, Sky. There's no such thing."
She folded her arms in nervous agitation before sitting on the edge of her bed. She watched him through the open door, washing the dried blood from his face and the side of his head. She was momentarily taken off guard when he decided to whip his shirt off, giving her a mouth-watering view of his back. Okay, she had seen him without a shirt on before. After all, summers got hot and evil things bled.
It was only natural to discard your shirt when it got a little messy. But usually, someone else was around when he did it.
His back was definitely in the top five of his best features. And that was saying something considering Dean Winchester had zero flaws physically. She wished she were joking, but seriously, he didn't have one…single…flaw. She forced herself to look away and went to her desk where he had placed the bottle, pouring herself another glass of champagne, this time to the brim. She took a long drink, walking back towards her bed, a slight sway in her step.
"Hey, hey, hey," Dean began. She turned around just in time to see him put his t-shirt back on, tugging it down his lean torso at an agonizingly slow pace. Okay, maybe he had done it much quicker than her brain could comprehend. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion right now. "You need to take it easy with that."
Skylar flopped down on her bed, leaning against her mountain of pink and purple pillows. "You brought it to drink, didn't you?" Okay, that came out much sassier than she had anticipated.
"To drink, yes. I was thinking two glasses tops. I don't need a plastered teen on my hands," Dean said, tossing the towel he had used to dry his hair onto the countertop before flipping the light off. He surprised her when he took the empty spot next to her, falling down in the same dramatic way that she had only moments ago.
She couldn't help but giggle as the champagne began hitting her head hard. She hated whenever he mocked her, but at the moment, she found it amusing. She stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath before finishing her large glass. Dean gently took it from her grasp, sighing as he leaned over her to put the empty glass on the nightstand.
"Okay, Baby Girl. That's more than enough for tonight."
She couldn't help but catch her breath, holding it until his lean body was no longer pressed against her.
Skylar turned on her side and gazed up at Dean who had once again settled down into her mountain of pillows. He adjusted himself a few times, trying to get comfortable. She couldn't help but grin as he bolted upright, reached behind him, and grabbed two of her soft fully things and tossed them on the floor before setting back down.
"When are you leaving?" she asked in a hushed whisper before hiccupping lighting. "Scuse me. Do I get a gift for Christmas?"
Groaning, Dean turned on his side to face her, resting one arm underneath his head. "Tomorrow morning…and I had a feeling you wouldn't appreciate a candy bar and pack of TP. It's Christmas eve. No place is open. I stole the champagne from the gods I ganked. That…was your gift. Every girl deserves to get a little tipsy before its legal."
"Cheapskate" Skylar said, poking him in the chest with her finger. "And you won't even let me drink it."
Dean laughed, raising his hand to grab her dark hair, pulling lightly. She couldn't help the moan that escaped her parted lips, and even though she was clearly on the more drunk side than sober, she bit her lip, feeling a little embarrassed.
Luckily, Dean didn't mention it, though it was obvious he had heard her loud and clear.
She could feel his breath on her face, and though her vision was slightly blurred, it was easy to see how close his lips were to her. "You had three glasses. I let you drink more than I should have. Moderation goes a long way, however."
She let out a small sound. "Moderation is for losers. You taught me that. If you're going to do something right, you have to be all in. Only pussies leave leftovers."
"Did I say that?" Dean cracked a smile, feigning innocence. He looked at her like she was severely misinformed. "That doesn't sound like me at…all."
"Mmhmm, it was you," she slurred her words slightly before raising her fingers to count on them. "You don't leave a bacon cheeseburger half eaten. You don't leave an evil fucker half alive. And if someone gives you whisky…you down that son-of-a-bitch."
"Fuuuuuck," Dean said in a low hiss, pulling her dark hair a little harder, causing to wince. It didn't hurt though. Her body was too numb for that. "Where in the hell did you learn to talk like that?"
Skylar reached out, grabbing on to the hunter green fabric of his stained t-shirt. Not that she would ever be able to tell, but something in his tone indicated he was loving this a little too much. "I have no idea," she breathed, both knowing full well that she learned it from him. Closing her eyes before asking once more, she said, "Why are you really here, Dean?"
Several more seconds ticked by, that she was certain he wasn't going to answer her at all. She was close to drifting off before she felt a featherlight light kiss on her forehead, his words drifting over her, haunting. She's fairly certain he only spoke because he thought she was asleep.
"I needed to see you. I may not have much time left…but I'm trying everything I can, Baby Girl. I just hope it will be enough."
"Kill him," Michael's commanding voice broke into her thoughts.
Skylar blinked several times to clear her mind of Dean.
She wasn't sure why her thoughts had drifted to memories of her husband. After all, this was the worst possible time ever to not focus on the horror in front of her.
But she missed Dean more and more with each passing second, she knew.
However, it was more than that. The Christmas Eve they had shared together a little over a year ago was the last decent memory she had of him before he went to hell. It was also the first time, and the last time, that he ever offered her alcohol. She had a feeling that he wanted her relaxed and not hating him with a passion in case it was their final time spent together.
The time between him telling her about Cassie, up until that night, had been strained to say the least.
To be honest, she had no longer cared if he lived or died.
But after that Christmas Eve, their relationship had mended enough for her to be devastated when he showed up on her doorstep with Sam five months later to tell her that he sold his soul and was going to die. She never even got the chance to apologize for calling him an idiot before he drove away and never looked back.
And now, he was gone, lost inside of his own body while Michael took control.
Lately, every time she tried to think of the little moments she and Dean had shared together over the years, it was becoming more and more difficult to piece together a timeline. It was beginning to scare her a bit. Why were her thoughts and memories so jumbled?
"Kill him," Michael said once more, pinning her with a steely gaze, one knee bent with his arm draped over it as he hovered above the crying man.
They were on the other side of the world right now and Michael was condemning this man on his knees to die.
"He's human," Skylar ground out through clenched teeth, not making a move to do as he commanded. "I won't."
Michael raised one eyebrow at her insubordination before rising to his full height and slowly making his way towards her. He halted his steps once he could go no further. She looked up at him, her gaze resentful and raging.
"This man," he said, pointing to his victim without looking their way, "deserves to die. If you want the world to continue on, we must rid it of every filthy thing that walks this earth. He killed a little girl. Did unspeakable things to her beforehand. Now let me ask you this…what monster is worse than this man before us?"
Skylar could feel the bile in her throat begin to rise. Now she remembered why she had turned to the comfort of her husband's memory. She couldn't stomach to listen to Michael reciting this man's sins.
"He deserves to be brought to justice," Skylar said, nodded her head in affirmation. "But…but that is what the courts are for."
"No, sweet girl. You are I are above the law. We are forced to play judge, jury, and executioner because no one else cares. I have seen into this man's heart, and he is not sorry for the things he has done. He never will be sorry, nor repent. And for that, he must die."
"But…"
"Would you rather he commit the same sins over and over?" Michael cut her off. "Are you comfortable setting this filth loose on society after knowing what he has done?"
"Of course not…"
"Then – kill him."
Skylar breathed heavy, her body trembling. This man did deserve to die. She couldn't argue with that. And while Dean had always told her that sometimes, humans must die in order for others to live, she never imagined she would be forced to seal someone's fate.
In a quiet voice, she muttered, "I don't have a weapon."
"You don't need one," Michael smirked at her admission, walking back towards the weeping man who was sorry he had been caught; not for the things he did. He held his hand out to her. "Come here, child."
Skylar forced one foot in front of the other, not looking directly at the man as he began to plead for his life. She halted her steps and shut her eyes. She had always been a terrible hunter. Killing wasn't something she basked in. She didn't feel the rush like many other hunters did, though she had done it on occasion in the past out of sheer obligation to society.
Michael reached out to grab her gently by the wrist, pulling her the rest of the way.
"You have so much power inside of you, sweet girl. Let me show you how to use it. Give me your hand," he said, his voice as smooth as honey.
"No. Please God no!" the man began to scream, but Michael held her fast, placing the palm of her hand against the man's forehead.
"God can't help you now," Michael taunted. "I'm afraid He has left. And now we're forced to clean up his precious creations mess."
"Concentrate," he whispered in her ear. "Focus on what I have told you. Focus on what this man has done and let your inner light shine. Are you angry, sad, fearful for what he has done?"
Skylar felt all of those things, plus more. No matter who else they found to condemn, they couldn't be worse than this man before them. She knew that Michael had every intention of forcing her to kill again. The thought was almost more than she could bear.
But if it was her only chance at saving the world and getting Dean back so they could raise their baby in a demon free world, then so be it.
She closed her eyes and began to dig deep inside of herself. She could feel Michael's hand on top of her own, make sure that she stayed as steady as possible for what was to come.
However, nothing happened.
Opening her eyes in frustration, she already felt a little defeated. "I think you're wrong. I don't have any special powers."
"You aren't trying hard enough."
"Yes, I am. I…I just don't have this inner mojo that you and Lucifer are hell bent on believing that I have."
"Where did you get that?"
Skylar furrowed her brow at Michael's sudden change in direction, following his gaze down to the emerald pendant around her neck. With her free hand, she reached up to clutch it tight. "Why?" she asked in defensiveness.
"Where did you get it?" he inquired more forcefully.
"Dean gave it to me for my birthday," she answered honestly. "He said my mother gave it to him to give to me when I was older…for protection."
"Take it off," he commanded, removing his hand from her own as he waited for her to obey his command.
"I will not!" she seethed, baffled that he would even suggest such a thing.
"That is not meant to protect you," Michael said in a calm tone that he had momentarily lost. "It's meant to suppress you."
"What? That's insane. This is…"
"I've seen that pendant before."
"It's been passed down to the women in my family. It's not like…"
"No. That's only what your mother told Dean. She was given that pendant by an angel. He instructed her to give it to Dean because he knew she would die and wouldn't be able to give it to you herself."
Skylar looked up, horrified, not believing a word that was coming from his mouth. "Then why not give it to Dean to begin with?!"
"Because Dean didn't believe in angels. He was young and immature, much more than he is now," he said, and Skylar couldn't help but hear the slight distain in his voice regarding Dean. "It had to come from your mother because he admired her. The archangel Gabriel knew this. He instructor her of what to say so that Dean wouldn't forget to give it to you when the time was right. Gabriel did tell her that it would protect you. But if anything, it does more harm than good."
"And you're just now remembering this?"
"I don't eavesdrop on every conversation this world has ever had, sweet girl. But I can see it clearly now. It looks like Gabriel and I need to have a little chat."
"Gabriel? The most immature angel I have ever met, gave this to my mother?"
"Indeed," he confirmed. "The last thing he wants is for you to be in your full power. Now please, Skylar. Take off the pendant."
Skylar hesitated, still clutching the emerald in her hand.
Regardless of how it came to be, it was still a gift from her mother. But if Michael was right; if it was suppressing her from protecting herself against evil, then it needed to come off.
Reaching behind her neck, she unclasped the chain, dropping its weight into Michael's palm. He placed it into the pocket of his long jacket before once again, taking her hand and placing it against the man's forehead that hadn't stopped crying and pleading during their exchange.
She once again closed her eyes and began to concentrate. She thought about Dean and her mother. She thought about Sam and Castiel. She concentrated on the soft touch of Michael's hand hovering above her own, and the sweat soaked forehead of the evil monster beneath her touch.
She thought about Lucifer and how he was the reason for all of this happening; a fallen angel, convinced of his own victory despite the word of God speaking his ill-fated destiny since the beginning of time.
She thought about her father and how he had tried to ruin her childhood. If it weren't for Dean, she would have never made it.
If it weren't for Dean…
Despite all of his wrongs, she owed him her life in so many ways.
She had to save him now.
She could feel her insides begin to warm, almost like an electric current running through her veins.
She opened her eyes as the warmth suddenly turned to fire, yet it didn't scorch her skin. Michael held fast, keeping her steady despite the bright white glow of her skin, a light red visibly flowing down her arm until it reached the man.
He began to scream in agony, melting before her very eyes. Ashes blew around them, as he slowly faded away.
And then…he was gone.
She gazed down at the empty spot, her arm still a vibrant white with streaks of red flowing through it.
Michael slowly dragged his fingertips lighting over her skin, her heart racing violently at what has just happened.
As his touch lingered on her flesh, the brightness soon faded until it was only a memory.
"Good girl," he praised her, expressing his approval.
His voice sent shivers down her spine.
She went numb, trying to understand what had just happened.