A/N: Hello everyone! I know it's been a long time since I have updated this one, and for that I am sorry. I have been struggling with writer's block for some time now and I fear my Supernatural fics fell by the wayside. I'm trying to start updating everything on an at least semi-regular basis. So here I am, back from the grave!
Ncsupnatfan: Well, since you're the only one that reviewed in all this time you're the one that gets a response. I'm glad you've been enjoying this fic, I really am. I appreciate all of your feedback so very much. Thank you for sticking with me, and I hope you read this soon.
Sincerely,
Dr. Emma Hamish Winchester
I do not own Supernatural or its characters
Chapter 40
Sam searched everywhere he could think of, growing increasingly worried as he continued to find no sign of the missing toddler. Some parts of the bunker were dangerous, and they still hadn't even managed to explore it all. Dean liked to joke about it being the TARDIS. He idly wondered what would happen to him if his younger self was killed. Would he simply disappear and cease to exist? Would he feel the same pain the other him was experiencing? Would Dean even remember him? He had to find Sammy. Unfortunately, he had been searching for hours, and he was starting to lose hope.
Finally he heard a faint crying sound. Following it, he found himself in yet another of the multitude of storage rooms that filled the bunker. He kept walking, moving around a set of shelves, and sighed in relief as his gaze fell on a toddler, curled up on the floor sobbing.
The man knelt, "Hey."
Sammy curled tighter into himself. Clearly he wanted to be left alone.
Sam watched him sadly. Given what the child had seen, he didn't blame him. And those dreams had always been a freaky trip anyway. "Hey, uh, you want to get out of here?" The concrete floor couldn't have been comfortable.
There was no response.
"You wanna go see Dean?"
There was a pause as Sammy quieted slightly, then a tearful voice, "No. Go 'way."
The man smiled, "What's wrong? Come on, you don't want Dean?"
"Dee hurt me."
The big man looked apologetic, "Yeah I know. I'm sorry. But look, you gotta understand, that wasn't Dean- not… real Dean. The real Dean would never hurt you. Ever."
Sammy tried to think how to make Sam understand. He wasn't upset about the torture. That Dean wasn't real, he knew that. He was in a dream. Nothing was ever good in his dreams. Besides, he had seemed really angry about something, and was somehow being controlled by the scary man with the wings. "No. Dee hurt me." Sammy's eyes started to tear up with frustration. His vocabulary was too limited for this.
The adult clearly still didn't understand, "Look, that wasn't Dean. Lucifer came up with all kinds of stuff. Dean in Hell torturing me was just one of them. It didn't have anything to do with how he actually feels, I promise."
"No. Not Lu'fer. Dee."
Sam looked confused, "What?"
Sammy tried to think, then broke down in tears. He couldn't do it. He couldn't make Sam understand. Dean had lied to him. He didn't know exactly what about yet, but it had happened.
"Hey, hey, it's okay." Sam sat down, leaning against a set of shelves, and pulled the toddler onto his lap. Sammy didn't seem capable of making himself understood, but the least the man could do was stay here and comfort him.
Raphael stood in an abandoned warehouse in Dallas, eagerly awaiting the Vessels' arrival, despite his confusion over his soldiers' delays. How difficult could it really be to locate two young, unwarded human children? His vessel, specially procured to personally oversee the work, had a limited duration, and he needed to return it to its life before it burned out from containing him.
A voice behind him attracted his attention, "Brother, what are you doing?"
"Michael." Slowly, he turned around to face his brother; as he did so allowing his blade to creep a little down his arm, ready to drop into his hand at a moment's notice. Slowly, instinctively, the pair started to circle.
"I am merely doing what you were too weak to do. Paradise is in peril. The stray elements must be secured."
Michael stared him down, growing commanding in his voice and manner, "I already ordered you to leave the vessels alone."
"But if Lucifer-"
"If Lucifer procures his vessel before I do then it will be an unfortunate setback, and we will remedy it. This is your last warning. Stand down."
Michael had stopped circling as he spoke, and now stood at the ready, relaxed yet intimidating, every muscle ready to spring into action.
Raphael spoke. "Take care, brother, or I will rise up and tear down all that you have built, and I shall rule Heaven in your stead."
Michael smiled, "Very well, and what will happen to me in this new world of yours? You cannot kill me; you desire Paradise, and you need me to attain it."
"Kill you? Oh no. I would lock you up, my sweet, sentimental attack dog, to be released when the time is right." He smiled, "You always were a pathetic weakling."
In a flash Michael was behind him, holding the archangel close to his chest with his blade against his throat. He rasped threateningly into Raphael's ear, "I may be 'sentimental,' but do not for one second mistake that for weakness."
Raphael gave a conciliatory smile, "Surely… we can talk about this… Don't you think…" He cried out as the other Archangel's blade stabbed his shoulder, then Michael shoved him and he stumbled away, clutching the injury, trying to stem the tide of blood and grace that leaked from the hole.
A furious sneer marred Michael's face, "Go. Leave the vessel and return to Heaven while I fix the mess you have made. We shall discuss this later."
Like a whipped dog Raphael disappeared, thoroughly and completely chastened. Michael had won this round.
