Man Who Knew Too Little

ch 15

by Jokers

A/N: So this WAS Clubs' chapter, but I was on a plane so I decided hey let's just get this done

Raphael hated to admit it, but she was feeling hesitant. Making the decision to save Michael was one thing, but it was something else entirely to actually do it, especially considering the fact that she had absolutely no plan. She knew that just walking up to him and saying "hey Michael would you pretty please develop a sense of self, it would be really helpful," would end badly, but what else was she supposed to do? Reaching into his Grace would alert God to her activities just as quickly as speaking to him, and she didn't have the time to slowly reintroduce him to things that might trigger memories. And even if she did, she didn't know if that would work. It had for her, but her behavior had not been modified as much as his (her personality itself had hardly been touched, a fact which had irritated and ashamed her when she figured it out).

So she had stalled for a while, waiting for a miracle solution to come to her for several days before acknowledging that that would never happen. After all God, the maker of miracles, was working against her.

It was afternoon when she decided to stop waiting. Well, it was always afternoon where she was, and pleasantly sunny. She wasn't completely sure, but she thought it was Tuesday. If anyone had told her that someday she would spend hours watching an autistic man fly a kite, she would have laughed in their face, but that was what she was doing. Once she realized that that she was doing this, of course, she did indeed laugh at herself. Then she came to the conclusion that if she had so little to do that she was people-watching, maybe partaking in a suicidal plan to save her older sibling wasn't such a bad idea after all.

It took her only moments to locate Michael's Grace. He was, after all, the only angel in Heaven aside from her (and Castiel, but his Grace had been so suppressed by God's that it was hardly present). Once she found him, she teleported over to him, and found herself standing in front of the Gardens, with Michael staring through her at the massive wooden gate that she suspected (and confirmed with a quick energy scan) God was behind.

"Michael." She said, carefully keeping her voice even. His gaze shifted slightly, eyes focusing on her face.

"Sister." He responded, his tone the monotonous drawl of someone two seconds from falling asleep where he stood.

"I need to speak to you."

"Then speak." He said, as though that were the only possible answer.

"Not here." Raphael said anxiously. She winced internally, hoping he wouldn't catch her nervousness. When he didn't react, she let out a sigh of relief, thankful that when God took away Michael's personality, he seemed to have also taken away his uncanny talent for calling bluffs.

"Why can't we speak here? I was instructed to wait for Father."

"Did he say to wait right outside the door?"

"No." She smiled.

"Then we can speak somewhere else. You'll be back by the time he concludes his business." Raphael had no idea whether that was a lie. She really hoped it wasn't.

Michael was silent for a moment, his eyes shifting rapidly between her and the gate before focusing back on her.

"Very well." He said, allowing her to broadcast a location into his mind.

The two of them left the Gardens, unaware that the figure within was watching them with a disapproving frown on His face.

"What did you wish to say?" Michael asked once the two of them had rematerialized. He quickly scanned the area around them, finding no threats. At that point, he should have lost interest. He really should have. But instead he found his eyes drawn to his surroundings, the trees and the shadows holding his focus for far longer than was necessary. He very deliberately turned his gaze toward Raphael, who still hadn't answered his question. She pursed her lips, staring at him, looking for something, then making a disappointed noise in her throat when she didn't find it.

"Do you recognize this place at all?" She sounded desperate, and Michael felt a flash of concern for her before it was washed away by the calm that settled omnipresently over his mind. Michael, for the first time, wasn't sure whether he was alright with that.

"No." He said, and she wilted slightly. A flash of confusion which was swept up slightly faster than the concern.

"Are you completely sure?" She said, and he decided he might as well take a closer look. He turned around, taking in every detail of the woods. He looked up, squinting against a shaft of bright light that had fought its way through the trees. He looked left, and found a tree stump that, around a foot off the ground, jutted off at a ninety degree angle parallel to the mossy forest floor. Then he looked right, and what he saw gave him pause.

Almost without making a conscious decision, he took a step forward. Then another. Then another, and eventually he felt himself reach up and place a hand on the statue in front of him. He looked up at it, and felt a barely-there wisp of bewilderment work its way through his Grace. A small bit of him cheered, told him that this was good, that it was right for him to feel something in front of this monument, but the rest of his brain insisted that nothing so frivolous could be necessary. So he brushed the flicker of confusion away, turning his attention to his Father, who he could sense behind him. Michael teleported to God's side, feeling his brain shift out of focus as he awaited His orders.

"Careful, if you stare at that spoon any more menacingly it'll catch on fire." Gabriel said. Dean turned said death glare at the archangel, who let out a laugh.

"I'll set you on fire."

"Aww, that's not nice, Dean. Here I am trying to be helpful, and all you do is threaten me. That hurts, it really does." Gabriel clutched his chest to show Dean precisely how painful his lack of goodwill was.

"Shut up and let me eat my cereal." Dean snapped. Gabriel eyed the bowl of congealed milk and cornflakes, then stuck out his tongue and made a gagging noise.

"Yeah right, you've been 'eating your cereal' for two hours now." Lucifer appeared in the seat beside Gabriel. Dean's only acknowledgement of the second archangel's presence was a very rude gesture.

"No, you don't understand Lucy," Gabriel grinned impishly, "this is the only way Winchester men can express their feelings."

"Well, his expression's getting a little annoying. Listen Winchester, if you don't start talking about your emotions right now I'm turning your life into a musical and not changing it back until you sing them like a little birdy."

"Then you'd have to sing too." Dean grumbled, taking a reluctant bite of his cereal.

"Are you kidding? I'm an excellent singer. We're called the choir for a reason, kid, and it's not because we gave blowjobs to priests." Dean let out a choking noise, and Gabriel shot his older brother a wink of approval.

"Holy shit. Thanks for that image. Now I'm never going to sleep again."

"Good, sleeping is overrated. Now, tell Uncle Lucy about your problems before your angst gives me a hernia."

"Fuck you, there's nothing to talk about."

"Mhmm." Lucifer leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands and grinning like a satisfied cat.

"Shut up."

"I'm not saying anything. Gabriel, am I saying anything?"

"I don't think so." Dean looked at Gabriel, then Lucifer, then Gabriel again, and let out a dissatisfied growl.

"Oh. Oh. Ohhhhh. You have a crush on Cassie, don't you?" Gabriel said. Dean jumped back in his seat, dropping his silverware to the table with a 'clang.'

"What? That's crazy. What the hell?"

"Yeah, he does, doesn't he? Now that I look back, it was kind of obvious."

"Wait, how would you even get that from me staring at a spoon?"

"Hello, mind reader, remember?" Gabriel said, as though that were the most natural answer in the world. Dean shook his head, disgusted, and stood, knocking over his chair. Gabriel locked eyes with Lucifer, looking genuinely confused.

"Was it something I said?"

"Raphael. What were you doing?" Raphael said nothing, but God seemed to understand precisely what she was thinking, "So you would betray me as your brothers did?" God didn't sound surprised, or hurt. He likely knew of Raphael's treachery already. Of course he did, Michael thought. God knew all. He stood there, not totally registering the scene before him. If he was needed, God would call him.

Raphael nodded once, hesitantly. Then again, deliberately, confidently. She knew the cost of denouncing the Father so close to Him. She may as well go all in.

"What do you want me to do, then," God asked, voice flat as he drew an angel blade from thin air, "I could fix you, of course. But then again, why should I? I'm so close to my goal, and then I can make new angels. Angels who will listen to me. Like your brother here." God smiled wickedly, running a finger across Michael's shoulder. Michael had the sudden, irrational urge to shiver.

Raphael stared at Michael, eyes wide. Like she knew what was going to happen. He stared back, his focus returning to him slightly and, before the thought was whisked away, he wondered why. If he understood his Father's tone correctly, Raphael was about to be destroyed. His Father didn't need him for that.

Raphael does. A quiet, insistent voice whispered in his ear. No, not a voice. A thought. Why would he think that, though? He wasn't supposed to think. He was supposed to follow orders.

But he couldn't stop, and this time everything stayed inside his brain, festering. One thought followed by another. She needs you followed by you need her followed by save her you fool, and then God's sword was falling and Michael was moving and he felt something go through his stomach. For a moment, there was no pain. He looked up, saw Raphael sitting on the ground where he'd pushed her, and sighed. He closed his eyes. It got dark. He still didn't understand why he was thinking, but in that moment it didn't matter. She was safe.

Then the pain started, and Michael screamed.

Raphael was prepared for the sword to pierce her chest. For a moment of pain, and then a burning light bursting forth from her vessel. She had seen enough of her brothers die, had killed enough of them (and for what? God's game?) to know what would happen.

Only it didn't. Instead, she felt a pair of hands push her to the side. She landed in an undignified heap on the ground and blinked. Michael was standing there, sword piercing his stomach (the height where her heart would be as she kneeled in front of God). He looked confused, eyes hazy as they took in the sword, then God, then her.

When he looked over at her, the emptiness on his face faded ever so slightly. He looked relieved, and tired, and almost…fond? Then the sword pulled from his body and he crumpled to the ground, clutching his stomach, white light spilling forth from the wound and his mouth contorted into a silent scream. God looked down at him, his face disappointed for a moment before he recovered his composure.

"Hmm, perhaps not like Michael then. A shame, he was rather amusing. Well then, I suppose I'll have to kill you both?" Raphael couldn't look at him, so instead she fixed her gaze on Michael. No, no, that was even worse. She shut her eyes, and Michael's face was only imprinted on the lids a tiny bit. It was a manageable agony. She heard a God chuckle, and felt a hand grip her shoulder, pulling her up.

"Oh come now, dear. Don't cry," God said, his voice not at all comforting, "You know what? I'll do you a favor. I won't kill you. No, no. I have something far better planned." God's fingers dug harshly into her flesh for a moment, and then she was screaming alongside Michael as her Grace tore its way from her body.

A/N: SorrysorrysorryI'materribleperson.