Thank you MaggieMay17 for beta'ing, Ncsupnatfan and VegasGranny for pre-reading. Thank you all for reading.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The moment Sam felt his wings free and spread at his back, he turned to Castiel and said, "I'm going. Get the blood to Jody, then find us."

Jack nodded jerkily, and Castiel said, "We'll be there."

Sam took flight toward the bunker, hoping against hope that what he had sensed was in fact Michael as he had no other way to trace Dean because of his rib sigils.. He hit a solid wall before he could enter, though, and found himself on his back in the field beside the bunker.

He leaped to his feet and started towards the bunker entrance, unmindful of his senses until he heard a fierce growl and realized his view of the door was occluded. There was a group of Michael's monsters crowded in front of them.

He stopped and cursed, running over his options in his mind. He was sure Michael had Dean and Nick in there as there was no other reason for him to have guards, so he had to get past them and inside. All he could do was fight his way in. He ran around a hedge that lined the field, jumping a ditch, and roared with rage—in an attempt to intimidate—as he barrelled towards the monsters.

A djinn ran and met him, and he lowered his shoulders and charged into it, driving it into the door with a loud thud.

The djinn was on its feet again almost straight away, but Sam couldn't do anything to attack as another monster had jumped onto his back, its hands clamped around Sam's neck and its teeth pressing into his skin.

Sam's blade slipped into his hand as he bowed his back and fell forward, rolling the monster off of him. Its teeth sank into him at the same moment, tearing out a chunk of flesh that it held in its jaws. It was a werewolf, and Sam had a split second to be grateful that archangels couldn't be turned before there was a new attack coming at him from the side.

He dodged away and swept his blade through the air to drive them back, but new weight fell on his back, claws digging into the skin over his jugular. He dropped and rolled, pinning the djinn beneath him with his knees on its shoulders. He gripped both ends of his blade to drive into its neck and decapitate it, cutting into his own palm at the same time.

Blood slicked his skin, but grace also flowed, healing the wound. Glad that he was now strong enough to heal automatically, but cursing the fact he had just spent grace that he would need for strength to kill Michael, Sam jumped off of the djinn's corpse and prepared for the next attack.

There were still twelve monsters facing him, a combination of vetalas, vampires, what looked like a rugaru, and the werewolf with bloody teeth from the flesh it had torn out of Sam. Part of him wondered if the werewolf had spat the piece out or eaten it.

Dismissing the sickening question, Sam focused all of his attention on his situation.

There were too many of them against one of him, and they weren't using skill. They had teeth and brute strength. It was going to be a brawl, and Sam was going to have to match that.

There was only one safe way to get into the bunker, though, through that door without any of them left alive to follow, so he threw himself into the fight with another roar of rage.

He ignored everything his father had taught him about professional fighting and let the monster within him come to the fore.

As there was another hammer blow on the door, Nick's heart skipped. He didn't know what was happening outside, but he knew it was taking Sam a long time to get inside, longer than it had taken Michael when he'd come the first time. He guessed what he could hear were signs of Sam fighting the monsters Michael said were waiting.

The fact he was relying on Sam felt wrong, but it was all they had, all he had, the only hope that the pain ripping through him was going to end soon.

Apocalypse World Michael wasn't as imaginative as the one Nick had been in the Cage with. He was limited by Nick's mortality and his ability to stay conscious.

In the Cage, Michael had been free to do what he liked when he and Lucifer had worked together or when Lucifer had given over Nick to him for a while. He had been able to spread Nick's ribs and root among his vital organs with scrabbling fingers to pluck them out randomly and throw them over his shoulder. He'd always ended with the heart. Only when he had pushed it into Nick's own hand, forcing his fingers to clench around it, crushing it to a bloody pulp of muscle and gristle, had it ended. Then Nick had been healed, and they'd started all over again.

This wasn't as bad as that. The pain was there, but the psychological torture was missing.

"He's coming, Nicky," Dean said, yet again, as Michael ran the blade down Nick's cheek.

He hadn't taken Nick's eyes yet, though he continued to threaten it. Nick knew that if Michael did it, he would struggle to stay strong. He would never let Dean say yes, but he would beg for it to stop. He had in the Cage. Of all the things they'd done to him, taking his eyes had been among the worst. The loss of that sense had left him unable to tell where the pain was going to be next, and he'd had no way to prepare himself for it.

"He's coming, Nicky," Michael imitated in a mocking tone. "Funny how you think that will comfort him, Dean. You should both know that all you'll see when the vesselgets in here is him dying."

The door rattled again, and this time it seemed different. It was more than something colliding with it; it felt purposeful, a feeling that intensified when the impact came again and again.

"Nicky," Dean said breathlessly.

Nick nodded weakly. The fight outside was over. Sam was coming in.

Michael laughed and then sauntered forwards to the steps that led down into the war room. He stood at the top and, after a loud metallic thump and squealing from the door, said, "Hello, Sam."

"Michael," Sam replied from a distance.

Dean was positioned looking away from the war room, facing Nick, and he was trying to look over his shoulder but obviously failing to get a good enough view as he fixed his eyes on Nick and said, "What's happening."

"I don't know," Nick admitted. He could only see Michael. Sam was still clearly on the raised balcony in front of the door.

"Dammit, Sam," Dean shouted. "Do something."

"It's okay, Dean," Sam said in a strangely soothing tone. "I've got him."

Nick felt the color drain from his face as Dean paled in front of him and flinched. It could be a coincidental choice of words, but it was exactly what Nick had said immediately after taking control of Lucifer in Stull.

"Got me?" Michael asked. "Sam, you're too scared to face me, hiding up there like a coward. You have nothing to threaten me with."

"I've got this," Sam said. "Libero!"

Nick saw something drop in front of Michael and then gas hissed and filled the air. Michael stood perfectly still, seeming calm, and then the gas reached up and around him, and he coughed.

"Yes!" Dean said triumphantly.

Choking and starting to falter, Michael threw up his arms, and a human shape fell from a height with a thud. It was Sam. He got to his feet, bloodied almost as badly as Nick, but a moment later, he was on his knees again as the gas clouded around him.

Michael was wavering, his hands waving as if he could drive away the gas. Sam's voice was hoarse as he said, "When the gas is gone, call Cas," and then he fell forwards, his cheek pressed into the floor, unconscious.

Michael lasted a moment longer before he dropped, too, toppling down the steps and becoming boneless beside Sam.

"What's going on?" Dean asked, craning his neck to look over his shoulder.

"They've both been knocked out," Nick said.

"And the gas?"

"It's fading," Nick said, seeing the air clear. After a minute of careful examination, he said, "It's gone." Thankfully, it didn't reach as far as them, so they weren't left with the debilitating headache Sam had warned them about. Nick was already in enough pain without adding more.

"Good," Dean said then raised his voice to a bellow. "Cas! Get your ass in here."

Nick hadn't expected a fast response. Castiel had been banished like Sam, and he had no wings to fly back, but Sam must have met him or retrieved him before coming here as footsteps raced down the stairs and Castiel and Jack came into view.

"Oh god," Jack breathed, as he caught sight of Nick, slick with blood and covered in cuts and swollen bruises around his broken bones. "Nick…"

"Heal him, Cas," Dean commanded.

"I will," Castiel said. "Where are the angel cuffs?"

"My set are in my left pocket," Dean said, and Nick added, "I've got mine in my jacket."

Castiel pressed his fingers to Nick's temple, and Nick felt the wave of pain as bones, flesh, and skin knitted together. Then Castiel was rooting in his jacket and pulling out the angel cuffs. "Put them on Michael, Jack," he said, handing him the cuffs. "Make them tight."

"And maybe get us the hell out of these ropes," Dean suggested.

Castiel tugged at the ropes around Nick's chest, and they fell away before he moved onto Dean and did the same.

Nick got to his feet and stretched his back. Though the pain of his injuries was gone, he felt clumsy and slow after being tied up so long.

Dean rushed at him and dragged him into a hug, "Dammit, Nicky," he said weakly and then held him at arm's length. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Fine," Nick said. "You?"

Dean blew out a breath. "Holding out against that was the hardest thing I've ever done. But, yeah, I'm good if you are."

Nick patted Dean's cheek and then made his way over to Michael, who was prone on the floor, his hands cuffed in front of him.

"We've got to tie him down, too," Dean said.

"He'll get out of whatever we put on him," Nick pointed out. "We'd need holy fire to trap him properly."

"We can't do that. We need Sam to be able to get at him," Dean said with a frown.

"Then we put the circle around both of them and let them fight it out," Nick said.

Dean gave him a sad glance. "Nicky, he just saved you from that psycho, saved us both. He's on our side; he's the one that's going to end this. I get that it's hard to see him looking like that, but he's not Lucifer."

Nick nodded stiffly. He knew Sam wasn't Lucifer, but Sam still felt dangerous.

Dean straightened up from the chair that he'd been leaning over, where Michael was bound, and tested the chains around Michael's chest. "I think that's as good as we can make it," he said.

"How long do you think it will hold?" Jack asked.

"Not long," Castiel said. "Hopefully, long enough for Sam to kill him."

"Which would be easy if he was awake," Nick pointed out, a bite to his tone.

"Try pressure points," Dean suggested.

"What's a pressure point?" Jack asked.

"A pain point," Nick said.

Nick bent over Sam and ground his knuckles into his sternum. Dean could see the pressure he was using in the way the muscles and tendons stood out on Nick's arm, but Sam didn't stir.

"Do angels even have pressure points?" Jack asked.

"There are places that are more sensitive," Castiel said. "But not to pressure. Pain comes from a weapon for us."

"Then we stab him," Nick said, picking up the blade Sam had dropped when he'd passed out and pressing it to Sam's shoulder.

"No!" Castiel barked. "We need him with as much grace remaining as possible. He has obviously been injured by the monsters he had to kill getting in, and the healing of those wounds would have taken grace. He will not be strong enough to fight if he loses any more."

Nick cursed. "If he's weaker than he was before, when this whole Michael fight was off the table since he hadn't gotten all his grace back, what the hell makes you think he's going to win now?"

Castiel's silence was answer enough. He didn't know if Sam could win, perhaps didn't even think he would.

"Right," Dean said. "You guys have got to get out of here. If this comes down to it, Michael is going to be pissed enough to strike out. I'm the only one he won't kill."

"No way in hell," Nick growled. "We're not leaving you alone in this. If anyone is going, we're all going. If Sam wins, he can find us to tell us all about it. And if Michael wins… Well, he's going to make sure we know pretty damn fast, too."

Dean understood Nick's feelings, he wouldn't want to leave any of them here, but he couldn't make himself leave. Something told him, some core instinct that was impossible to ignore, made him certain he needed to be there to see it happen.

There was a soft hitching breath behind them, and they all spun to see Michael blinking blearily.

"Get out of here," Dean ordered. "All of you. Now!"

"No, stay. The fun is just starting," Michael said, his voice becoming stronger with each word. "I want you to see Sam die. I know how much it will mean to you all." He fixed his eyes on Nick. "Well, perhaps not you so much."

Nick pushed Jack behind him and squared his stance.

"Sam," Dean called. "Now would be a good time for you to wake up."

"It's going to take him a little longer to wake from his nap," Michael said. "He's not as strong as me."

Jack tried to step around Nick, but he was pushed back with a snapped, "Don't be stupid!"

Michael flexed his arms, making the chains around him stretch and clink. "Just give me a minute. I've almost got it."

"Sam!" Nick shouted. "Wake your ass up!"

Dean chanced a glance over his shoulder, but Sam was still unmoving. His gaze snapped back to Michael as there was a screech of metal and the chains slipped to the floor. Michael raised his hands in front of him, and the cuffs glowed and then fell away. He got to his feet, stretched his arms, and then threw out his hands. Nick, Castiel, and Jack were thrown back, colliding with bookshelves and the wall. They dropped to the floor, all of them unconscious. Dean was the only one of them that remained standing.

"That's better," Michael said. "They were annoying me. But you, Dean, I want you awake to see Sam die. You're the one it's going to matter to most of all."

"Why me?" Dean asked automatically.

Michael chuckled. "That's the beauty of this. He did such a good job that not even the bond of legendary love can break it. Perhaps when he's dead, it will be different. That's the sort of loophole he would leave. You'd get to see him die in time to remember and see what you lost."

Dean had no idea what Michael was saying, but he was preoccupied by the sound of a soft breath behind him. He guessed Sam was waking up, and he was going to do what he could to distract Michael long enough to give Sam time to strike.

He walked towards Nick, who was in the opposite direction to Sam, ostensibly checking on his brother. Michael seemed fooled as he turned, too, facing away from Sam and watching as Dean pressed his fingers to Nick's throat, feeling the steady thrum of life beneath.

"If only you knew what you were missing, who you were so worried about, it would blow your mind."

"I'm worried about my brother," Dean said, straightening up and seeing Sam get to his feet behind Michael. "I'm worried about the right thing."

"Brother…" Michael smirked. "Yes, brothers are so— No, you don't!"

Sam had crept up behind Michael and drawn back his blade to strike, but Michael spun and punched his jaw, driving him back. The sound of the impact was like a clap of thunder, and the floor beneath Dean's feet shook.

He understood now why the prophesied fight between them would have destroyed half the planet, how the apocalypse world had come into being. This fight was going to be a huge exchange of power.

He had no idea if that was what would happen here, if he was at ground zero along with others he cared about, but he hoped not. If Sam could get the strike in fast, go for the kill, they might be spared.

"I might not kill you, Sam," Michael mused. "How would you like to go to the Cage? I understand there is a way. I hear this world's version of me is still there. I imagine he would like to see you."

Sam's face drained of color, and he jabbed forward with his blade. Michael moved back easily, a laugh on his lips, and then thrust his arm forward. The blade entered Sam's right hip and slashed up to his navel. Dean cried out in shock at the same moment, Sam's pain made itself known in a cry.

"I could let you live," Michael offered. "I could take your grace and leave you human to pick up where you left off. You could tell them the truth, have them back, everything you lost, and all it would take is for you to beg."

"Never," Sam growled as they carefully circled each other, both looking for an opening to strike.

Michael quirked a brow. "Don't you want them back? Don't you want him?"

Sam chanced a glance at Dean, eyes filled with pain and longing that Dean didn't understand, and then said, "I want you dead more."

Michael sighed. "That's a pity. I would have enjoyed seeing you try to find your place again."

Sam thrust his blade forward, catching Michael's shoulder, and Dean felt a surge of hope. Sam was bloodied, and his cheek was swelling from Michael's earlier blow, but he was still fighting.

Michael pushed him back and touched the bloody spot on his shoulder. He examined his hand and then jabbed out again, his blade sinking into Sam's arm. He tried to pull it out, but Sam gripped it with his free hand and held it in place.

Michael smirked. "What are you doing, Sam? Giving in?"

Dean was wondering the same, but Sam's intent became clear then, and the sheer determination and strength of it made Dean's mouth fall open.

Still gripping the blade, causing blood to drip from his hand to the floor, Sam drove himself onto it, edging closer to Michael.

Michael had two choices, release his blade or stand firm, and he chose the stupidest option. Still gripping his blade's handle in one hand, he brought the other up to punch Sam.

Sam took the blow, making a point of spitting blood onto the floor, then yanked himself to the side. Michael's blade sliced through the flesh of his arm, causing blood to drench his sleeve as he was freed, and then he stepped towards Michael, making a swift movement of his hands as he did it.

"What are you doing to yourself?" Michael asked.

Dean watched, wide-eyed, as Sam brought up his own blade. He had switched it into his uninjured hand as he stepped forward and now drove it upward, through the soft flesh of Michael's throat and into his head.

Dean's arm flew up to cover his eyes as a whine cut through the air and light blazed. He heard two thumps and a groan of pain.

He had to see what was happening; he couldn't deny the need, so he lowered his arm to see both Sam and Michael on the floor. Sam's blade was still in Michael, and light was blazing in his eyes and mouth. Sam was slumped down at his feet, drenched in blood and panting.

As the light died, the shape of wings appeared on the floor, spread from Michael's back, and flames flickered along them, leaving ashes behind.

"He's dead," Sam panted, forcing himself to his knees and crawling to Michael's side to drag his blade free and clutch the hilt to his chest with an exhausted moan.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked.

Sam groaned. "I'm not sure there's enough grace in me to heal myself anytime this year."

"Can I help? Can Cas?"

Sam huffed a laugh. "I think this is beyond what Castiel can do." He staggered to his feet and braced his hand on the table beside him.

Dean wanted to check on Nick again, but there was a question spinning in his mind that he needed to be answered. "Sam, what was Michael talking about? What did you lose? Who did you lose?"

Sam pressed a hand to his forehead, leaving a smear of blood there, and said, "I lost my family."

Dean realized he knew nothing about Sam's life before he was Lucifer's vessel. All he knew was that Sam had been trying to help when he gave consent, and he'd learned that from Amara.

"Who were they?" he asked. "Who were you?"

Sam smiled slightly, seemingly to be on the verge of speech, and then his legs gave way, and he crumpled.

Dean rushed towards him, his hands outstretched, but before he could reach him, Sam held up a hand and got to his feet. With Dean still held in place, he staggered out of the room and up the stairs. His footsteps faded, and then, through the silence of the room, came a soft flutter. Sam was gone.

Dean looked from the blood pool where Sam had knelt to the body of the archangel, the defeated blade beside it on the floor, and then back to his brother. They had a body to deal with, more bloodstains that he wanted to think about to mop up, he had a probably concussed brother, an unconscious angel and Nephilim to wake up, but for a moment, he just stood and thought.

Michael was dead, it was over for now apart from his monsters, and Sam had survived. But Dean was left with questions and a need to know more.

He wanted to help Sam, find out who he'd lost and what had happened to them, then maybe they'd be able to get them back for him.

They might be able to give Sam his family back.

So… Michael is dead! That was a good scene to write as I'd been building towards it for a long time, but there is still so much more to tell. We have a few more chapters of Part One to go, and then we'll be back in Part Two to see what comes next.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx