Michael woke up feeling a little more relaxed, and yet, at the same time, dreading the day that would follow. Adam was still asleep beside him - the demon had shifted, sprawled out onto his stomach and his head buried into his arms like a pillow, snoring quietly. For a moment, the archangel just watched him, not really wanting to leave, and fighting every instinct to lay down and go back to sleep - but, he knew he couldn't do that. He had to take the chance to talk to Dean while Adam was asleep, even if he wasn't quite ready for whatever the hunter might have to say. He just wanted him to know that he really meant no harm to them, or otherwise.
It was going to be a lot harder than it sounded, he knew.
Giving in, Michael stretched out a bit and pushed himself to stand, fighting against the lingering exhaustion and shaking his head back and forth as he struggled to make some sense of the thoughts jumbling in his brain, disjointed and mingled. It was something he was long used to by now, his own voice along with Adam's singing along in his head, mixing and intertwining, but they were easier to pick out. It was only when he was first waking up did his identity blur, and the line between him and Adam became less clear; They were basically already one person, two halves of the same whole, anyway, and nothing would change that, the archangel was sure - and the feeling wasn't one Michael could complain about, either - but the mornings were toughest on him, as his own identity, Adam's identity, were forgotten in a horrible, twisted blur, at least for those few short seconds.
The archangel recovered quick enough, though; He blinked the rest of the heaviness from his eyes, rubbing them a few times just for good measure before slowly, hesitantly, bringing himself up to take control. He grimaced a little at the feeling, being in complete control - so unnatural, he despised it, to be completely honest - but he shook it off and pushed himself to sit up, sighing.
Michael looked up, slowly flicking his gaze around the room. There wasn't much to look at; Aside from the bed, a dresser, and a stand beside the bed, the room was empty. The archangel sighed a little, rubbing a hand down his head and turning, bringing his legs up over the side of the bed and slowly pushing himself to stand. He grimaced at the rush of nausea, as well as the dizziness that rose up the second his feet hit the ground, and brought himself forward to grab onto the dresser, just enough to steady himself as he straightened, inhaled, and turned.
He stared at the door for a long moment, another rush of nausea rising, settling in the pit of his stomach and threatening to make home; He licked his lips and swallowed, doing his best to push it down - even though that ended up making it worse - and forced himself forward. Every part of him ached to resist, but he fought it back and opened the door, stepping out into the hallway and turning to pull the door shut behind him. Aside from the noise he was making, the bunker was silent - and eerily so - and his heart both leaped and dropped at the thought that it was empty, and that maybe the hunters had gone to run an errand of some sort.
He hesitated, glancing down both ends of the hallway before heading off, a little confused as to where to go, which direction to turn - the bunker was very… well, very large, and much like the hallways of Hell, he was certainly not accustomed to being there - and, thus, it would be easy to get lost in the unfamiliar place. He must have picked the right direction, though, because he found himself in the main room, much to his relief. And, also much to his relief - and his confusion - it was empty. The archangel went still for a moment, looking around the room slowly, wide eyes taking in the open, empty beer bottles on the table, the caps scattered around. The chairs were pushed in, though, which made Michael wonder, again, whether there was anybody there or not. After a moment of just lingering in the doorway, he took a few steps forward.
At that same moment, the door opened upstairs; Michael tensed for a second, both hoping it was Dean and praying that it wasn't, and he didn't know how to feel when it was Castiel that entered, walking down the stairs and mumbling under his breath with a half-pissed off look on his face, shoving something in his pocket - his phone, Michael thought, recalling what he'd heard from the humans in the school but he didn't get a good enough look at it to tell. His brother stopped short upon seeing him, eyebrows raising slightly as he blinked, but he was quicker to speak than Michael was. "Good morning."
"Morning…" Michael trailed off, shifting a little on his feet. Castiel looked down for a moment, heading over to the table - and, huffing, he began gathering up the beer bottles. After a while, standing there awkwardly, the archangel stepped forward to help, gathering the caps into the palm of his hand and staring at them curiously for a moment, before looking back up at Castiel. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes," Castiel mumbled, picking up the last bottle. After a few seconds, though, hesitating, the angel shook his head and grumbled out a quiet "no" before he turned away, heading for the kitchen. Michael stepped around the table and followed after him quickly, following the other angel's lead and dumping the bottle caps into the trash can beside the doorway after Castiel had dumped the bottles in. "It's nothing. Just…"
"Dean?" Michael offered carefully, watching him. Castiel grimaced a little and turned, nodding once toward the archangel, and Michael frowned. "Where is he?"
"He and Sam went shopping, I believe," Castiel sighed, brushing past him to leave the kitchen. Michael frowned a little bit, but he fell silent for a moment, turning to watch the other angel go and furrowing his eyebrows together slightly, shifting back and forth on his feet before taking in a deep, unsteady breath and following, unsure what to do now. Castiel was sifting through the bookshelves now, mumbling to himself - before pulling out an angel blade.
Michael stopped short, blinking at it. He hadn't seen one of those in a very, very long time, and looking at it now, it felt even weirder. The archangel furrowed his eyebrows, flicking his eyes back to Castiel's face. "What, um- What are you doing?" He asked, a little hesitantly - having a feeling he knew the answer, and yet, certain that he wasn't going to like it either.
"I still haven't found Belphegor." Castiel turned to face him, tucking the angel blade into his sleeve. "Every second he remains, wherever he may be, in Jack's body…" The angel clenched his teeth, raising his head slightly. "Jack deserves to be laid to rest properly, not to have some demon parading around in his corpse."
"It's-" Michael stopped himself short, biting down hard on his tongue, and screwed his eyes shut for a good few seconds. Finally, he managed a small nod and turned away again, bringing one hand up over his mouth and passing the other one over his head as he let his breath out in a low, shaky sigh. A regular old angel blade wasn't going to work on Lucifer, and Michael knew this, but the thought of his brother being hunted down… he hated it. He genuinely hated it. And even worse, was the idea of what might happen if both of them ended up in some kind of fight - Lucifer would come out victorious, for sure, but Michael didn't want Castiel harmed any more than he wanted Lucifer harmed.
The archangel closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his fist against his mouth. He wanted to say something, but he had a feeling that telling him that it was Lucifer, and not a demon, that was possessing Jack wouldn't make Castiel feel any better. If anything, it would make things worse. For both of his brothers. He hated it, having the weight of this secret on his shoulders.
He jumped, feeling Castiel's hand touch his shoulder - the second he did, Castiel had turned back, and he looked for all the world like he was kicking himself by the time Michael turned around to face him, as if he had done something awful. The archangel frowned, but Castiel was already speaking before Michael could say anything, searching his brother's face carefully with a frown. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," Michael managed, his voice wavering slightly. He swallowed, looking away for a moment, wishing Adam was there. The demon hated lying, but he was a lot more steady than Michael was, a lot more convincing, when he had to be. The archangel looked down for a moment, struggling past the panic that was rising in his chest. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," Castiel said, sounding puzzled. "You've done nothing wrong."
Michael only huffed out a laugh and cleared his throat, forcing himself to straighten up. These days, it felt like everything was all wrong. And it was easiest to feel like that without Adam there. Instead, he only mumbled a half-hearted, somewhat unintelligible agreement, passing his hand over his head again before simply wrapping his arms around himself. Castiel reached up again, his hand hovering over Michael's shoulder, not quite touching. Michael glanced over, but he didn't move - and, after a moment, Castiel hesitantly lowered his hand again, squeezing the archangel's shoulder lightly, reassuringly; Despite his aversion to most physical contact, Michael almost found himself leaning into the touch, a mixture of grounding and comforting.
"I'm sorry, brother," Castiel was mumbling, and Michael fought his way back to the present, glancing over at the other angel in confusion. "If I had known- if I had known…"
Michael just stared at him, confusion flickering across his face, and, after a moment, Castiel sighed and looked away from the archangel. "Known what?" He asked, bewildered, but the other angel didn't respond. Finally, sighing, he pulled his hand off of Michael's shoulder with one last, gentle squeeze, and stepped back again, brushing his trenchcoat off and looking over his shoulder, toward the stairs.
"I should go." Castiel paused, glancing back at him. "Will you be… alright here alone?"
His brother's concern took Michael by surprise, in all honesty - but it was welcome all the same. Warming, even, the realization that even after everything that had happened, Castiel… cared. It was an odd thought, considering everything they had been through, the things Michael had done, Castiel's rebellion - but it brought a smile to his face despite himself, the archangel bringing his eyes from Castiel to the stairs, and then back to his brother, taking a deep breath and offering a small nod in response. "We'll be okay, Castiel," he murmured. "You can go."
"I'll be back soon. Sam and Dean should be arriving any minute, as well," Castiel sighed, stepping away and turning, heading back for the stairs. Michael only nodded slightly in response, watching him carefully. It was only when the angel had gotten halfway up the stairs, did Michael bring himself to speak, hesitant but desperate all the same.
"Good luck." It was quiet, reluctant, but genuine. He was still so torn, so confused, so split between both of his brothers, and while, of course, he would rather keep them apart, rather not have Castiel find Lucifer… Castiel needed someone to be there for him, too. In any way, however small, the angel needed someone, and he was Michael's brother, too. One that he had wronged almost as much as he had wronged Lucifer, and one just as worthy of justice.
Castiel paused, looking over at him. Faint surprised flickered across his face, just for a second, before he gave nothing more than a small nod and continued on his way up the stairs. Michael watched him until he disappeared, hearing the door open and shut behind his brother as he left.
The archangel closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his head downwards, and wrapped his arms around himself just a little bit tighter, a half-hearted attempt to hold himself together.
He stayed like that for quite some time, not sure what he was waiting for first; Whether for Adam to wake up, or for Sam and Dean to arrive. The demon stayed asleep, however, seemingly more worn out from the day with Sam and the spat with Dean than Michael had been, and so, when the door opened, Michael once more felt his heart sink down from his chest to his stomach. It pulled every muscle in his body taut with anxiety, his heart skipping a few beats as he slowly let his gaze trail up. The first one to come into view was Sam, carrying an armful of bags. He smiled at Michael the second he saw him, coming down the stairs, and Michael could only manage a shaky smile back in response before his eyes snapped back to the top of the stairs. The smile wavered, faltered, and vanished the second Dean appeared, with bags of his own.
The hunter spared them one glance, and his eyes hardened ever so slightly as he followed after his brother. Michael opened his mouth slightly, as if to say something, but Dean had slid past Sam, and in just a few simple strides, he had disappeared into the kitchen. Sam, meanwhile, spared a slightly desperate look after his brother, and an apologetic look in Michael's direction. The archangel just snapped his mouth shut and sighed, biting his tongue.
"You hungry?" Sam asked as he passed, and Michael blinked a few times, taking a second to register what the hunter had asked him before he managed to respond.
"Oh- no, not me, thank you," he assured quickly, and Sam barely missed a beat, giving one short, simple nod in response before he followed his brother into the kitchen. Michael rocked back a little on his feet, unsure whether to follow or not, whether to help - but he stood absolutely still, the anxiety pounding at his chest, seeming to tighten with every passing second, and every beat of his heart was nothing but painful. The archangel eventually looked away from the kitchen, silently willing Adam to wake up, desperate for the demon's company - but he was silent, still asleep, and it took just about everything Michael had not to retreat to a corner of his mind and just curl up until Adam had woken up again.
He stood still until Dean left the kitchen, beer bottle in hand. Without looking at him, the hunter had already turned to leave the room, presumably to head back to his own. Michael stood still, practically holding his breath, watching as he disappeared into the hallway. His chest was hurting by then, aching from the anxiety, the panic that was crushing against him. And then, finally, in an abrupt, split-second decision, the archangel turned and took a few steps forward. "Um- uh- D-" He took a deep breath and stepped into the hallway, finally bringing up the courage to call after the hunter. "Dean?"
Dean stopped short, every muscle in his body seeming to tense. He turned his head, just slightly, to the side, and Michael was once again holding his breath in those few seconds of silence. Then, just as the archangel thought that the hunter was about to just ignore him and continue walking, Dean turned to face him, head raised, jaw set. "Yeah."
Michael didn't know whether he was relieved or all the more anxious, but it seemed to settle into something somewhere in between. The archangel ran his tongue over his lips, his fingers digging into his own sides now, pressing hard enough until he could finally feel his own hands pressing close to him, until he could feel his arms wrapped around himself, just enough to bring his mind back to the present. "I…" Michael stopped, swallowed, and tried again, "I'm sorry."
Dean just stared at him, one eyebrow raising ever so slightly, but other than that, he was as stoic as ever. Like a statue of marble, emotionless, stone-cold. "Is this Adam talking?"
"No, I-" Michael flinched a little despite himself when Dean nodded, and turned away again, ready to leave. The archangel stepped forward, desperation gripping him like claws made of ice. "Wait, please," he begged, and Dean stopped again, but he didn't turn. "Please," the archangel said again, breathless, pained. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry- for- for everything I did. And- And for everything that the other me did. I can't take any of that back, I can't…" Michael faltered, desperation turning into hopelessness. "I can't make it right…"
"Okay." Dean's voice was as cold as ever, still not turning around. "So what do you want?"
"Want…?" Michael blinked a few times at that, his eyes flickering back up to the hunter. After a moment, still hesitating, he managed to take one slight, reluctant, slow step forward. He didn't want to cross the distance between them completely, for Dean's sake more than his own - he wasn't scared of the hunter, nor was he scared of hurting him, but he didn't want to make him any more uncomfortable than he likely already was. "I want- I want… Adam to be happy."
Dean's head twitched slightly, and, finally, the hunter had turned to face him again. A flicker of confusion had crossed his face, but along with it was a sense of disbelieving wariness, eyes still cold as he narrowed his eyes at the archangel. "Really?"
Michael offered him a helpless look in response, not knowing what else to say, how to convince the hunter. He stood there for a moment, just staring back at Dean as the hunter's blank, unforgiving eyes stared back into his own, not swayed at all, not by the words or the expression of pained desperation flickering across the archangel's face. He stood, at a loss for words, every response he wanted to give seeming to fail him completely.
"Listen," Dean suddenly spoke, and Michael flinched a little in surprise despite himself, as the hunter took a few steps toward him. "Maybe that shit works on Adam, but like I've said before, I've been down this road. Done this dance a million times already. Now, you can pretend to care - you can keep your little act up around Sam and Adam all you want, but don't think for a second that I don't know what's really going on here."
Michael didn't really know what to say to that, and furthermore, he couldn't open his mouth, feeling completely frozen from the pain that had rushed through him at those words. Dean just stared back, eyes narrowing slightly, searching the archangel's gaze, as if he was looking for something specific - and seeming frustrated, as he did so, as if he wasn't seeing what he wanted, what he was expecting. "I don't…" The archangel faltered, voice breaking slightly. In response, Dean's eyebrows rose faintly, his face twitching, the cold mask giving way to a bit more confusion. Michael winced faintly, struggling to pull himself together again before he spoke up again. "I don't… I don't understand."
"Oh, come on," Dean snapped, his expression cold again, words sharp and harsh; Michael flinched, yet again, and felt even worse. How many times in the span of just a few minutes, had a human made him flinch? The archangel was almost cowering, and he was doing so before Dean Winchester, his true vessel, a hunter - but still a human, and nothing more. "You know damn well what you're doing. You're just using him. You're-"
"What?" Michael uttered, not meaning to interrupt the hunter, but too stunned by that to keep his mouth shut. Now, that, he definitely didn't understand. He couldn't even begin to fathom, to understand - what did he mean, using him? "Are you-" Every muscle in the archangel's body tensed up, eyes going wide when he finally realized what the hunter meant by those words. "Are you talking about Adam?"
"Who else?" Dean retorted, his fury not fading a bit. Michael could only stare now, wide-eyed with confusion and disbelief, as the hunter continued. "I don't understand why, why you're playing with him like this, what you're using him for, but come on. I wasn't born yesterday," the hunter spat. "And you angels, you're all the same. You play your little games, you put on your little act, and everyone else be damned, you-"
"Does that include Castiel?" Michael blurted out before he could stop himself, and, in turn, he watched Dean recoil, shoulders jerking back, eyes sharpening.
"Excuse me?"
Michael blinked, swallowed, and fell silent for a moment. But it was too late to turn back now, he couldn't take back what he'd said and he couldn't just walk away. It took a few moments to bring up the courage to respond, and even then, his voice shook slightly as he did. "Castiel. He's an angel, too, and… he rebelled, for- for you. He- He turned on his family, his home, for you. He died. For you." He continued to hesitate, as Dean only stared, fury and confusion mixing in his eyes. "Are you going to stand there and tell me that- that what he did was a game? An- An act?" A small spark of confidence had been lit, but it was hardly enough to spark a flame in the archangel. "All of that, some sort of long-term manipulation? Some grand act of deceit? What…" He hesitated, eyebrows furrowing. "What would be the point?"
Dean didn't seem to have a response to that. He only stared at Michael, that cold mask seeming to finally break apart, little by little, piece by piece. "What's your point?" He finally demanded.
Michael faltered, and hesitated, struggling to word what he wanted to say. "... You wouldn't fault all of humanity for the actions of one," he finally managed, careful. "Humans- humans continue to make mistake after mistake, they… they murder, and steal, and they hurt. But that's only a fraction. The rest- they're innocent." He kept his mouth open for a moment, his lower jaw trembling slightly, his chest pounding with the pain, the anxiety, the confusion. "Why hold all angels accountable for the actions of others?"
The hunter was silent, now, his frustration seeming to have returned tenfold.
Michael continued to hesitate for a few moments further before he brought up the nerve to speak again. "Why fault… me… for the actions of another?" At this, Dean's eyes narrowed. But he didn't seem as hostile, as angry, just… wary. Distrusting.
Finally, the hunter spoke again, cold as ever - and yet, resigned. "Because you're him. You're from this universe, sure, and maybe it's different on the surface. But you're still him." Dean's eyes flicked back up, the stone-cold expression returning as he seemed to reassure himself of this knowledge, and Michael faltered. For a second there, he had actually thought he might have gotten through to the hunter - but those walls were back up, and they seemed nothing short of unbreakable. "You're still a monster."
Michael winced, and he watched Dean's expression change in turn, frustrated confusion breaking through the mask. In the next instant, though, Dean had turned away, and Michael had long dropped his gaze from the hunter's, silent and helpless once more as Dean simply turned around and continued on his way down the hallway.
The archangel hesitated, clenched his teeth, and flicked his gaze back up again. "Maybe I am."
Dean stopped again, this time with his hand on the doorknob to his room. He turned his head, blinking slightly in faint surprise, but his expression froze over with that same hostility, same distrust, as the hunter narrowed his eyes at the archangel. "What?"
"Maybe-" Michael's voice faltered, and he took a second to compose himself, desperate to do so, before he continued on, "maybe I am… a monster," he managed to get the words out, despite the fact that his throat was closing up tighter and tighter with each passing second. "But you're wrong- you're wrong about one thing."
Dean quirked an eyebrow, but he said nothing.
"I do care about Adam." The archangel sucked in a deep, shaky breath, and held it for a few seconds before he went on. "I want him to be happy, I want him to be safe. I want what's best for him, and that is all I will ever want, and-" Michael's breathing hitched slightly, teeth clenching even further as he swallowed, hard. Dean just stared at him, the hostility in his expression giving way to confusion once more, but this time there was no frustration accompanying it. "I want him to forgive you and Sam because I want him to finally be able to move on from the rage, and the hatred, that has been building up inside of him for the past ten years. And I want that for him so much that I'm here, talking to you, facing the hunter who killed my brother. The hunter that has been nothing - nothing but cold to the both of us ever since we've arrived."
Dean's expression flickered, but he didn't speak, he only glanced away, seeming unable to hold the archangel's gaze now.
Michael fell silent, as well, at least long enough to steady himself as much as was possible before he finally dared to continue. "I am sorry, but I don't… I don't know how much more I can apologize, or what else I can say. But I know that Adam deserves to be able to forgive both of his brothers, for his own sake, not yours. And I am asking you- I am begging you, whatever you might have against me, I don't care - but don't deprive him of that chance. He doesn't deserve that, and especially not from you."
Silence met his words; Dean wasn't looking at him now, eyes fixed firmly on the ground. But, finally, when he realized that the archangel had seemingly finished speaking, the hunter glanced up, green eyes holding Michael's gaze briefly. And he offered nothing more than a blank - "okay" - before he turned away again, pushing the door to his room open, and walked in. Michael just stared, not relaxing until he saw and heard the door shutting behind the hunter.
Michael just blinked once and stared at the door, not sure what to think now. Had that gone good? Bad? Had he gotten through to the hunter? He had thought so, before, but he had been wrong - so he didn't want to assume anything yet. The archangel exhaled and turned, jumping slightly as he did so - because Sam was standing there, leaning against the wall and staring past Michael, after Dean, a faint frown on his face. The hunter looked up, however, when Michael turned to face him - and, after a moment, a small, sympathetic smile tugged at his lips.
"Just give him some time, bud," the hunter advised quietly, shouldering himself away from the wall. Michael couldn't speak, he couldn't even nod - he just stared. Sam sighed, brushing past them - but not before clasping his hand over Michael's shoulder, giving a small squeeze. Despite himself, the archangel flinched again, only relaxing when Sam's hand lifted once more.
He waited until he heard the door open and shut again, as Sam entered Dean's room - presumably to check on him - before he moved, shuffling forward and heading back into the main room. Every part of him ached from the inside to the outside, every muscle in his body too tense, too stiff. He felt dizzy, he felt sick, he felt scared - he felt broken.
Sitting down, he put his head in his hands and screwed his eyes shut and waited, for the one person in the world who could put him back together again.