Bobby's House
Bobby Singer was wheeling his wheelchair through his house. Without the Winchester, the house felt strangely empty. The boys were the sons he never had, and while he didn't want to admit it openly, he missed them when they weren't here. With so many hunters dying, Bobby found himself quickly running out of friends and allies. He missed his boys and wished the war would end, so he could find a way to keep them close to him. Sighing, Bobby went over to the refrigerator and opened it; other than beer, he had nothing to offer to the good doctor asleep in his guest room upstairs. Grabbing his cell phone, Bobby punched in the number to his local grocery store.
"She likes strawberry yogurt," said a cool smooth voice behind him, "I would also get her black tea." "She likes that with two sugars." Bobby slowly wheeled around and looked at the man standing in his kitchen. He was tall with brown hair slicked back, high cheekbones, and brown eyes. The man was staring at Bobby with some amusement. "I'm not sure why she prefers tea to coffee; I guess it must be her English blood."
Bobby stared at the man thoughtfully as he determined the best course of action. The nearest weapon was in the next room, and even though, he was in a wheelchair, he was still physically strong enough to take any man down. He began to wheel closer to the man for easier access. Without warning, the man grabbed a chair and sat down. As he did so, his visage wavered a little bit. Bobby felt disconcerted. He wasn't sure what this man was, but he was not a demon.
"I'm an angel, Bobby," said the man, "My name is Michael."
"The archangel?" asked Bobby, "Dean's vessel?"
"Yes," said Michael, "I'm not here for Dean; I'm here for Alison."
"Alison," asked Bobby confused, "Why?"
"Alison," said Michael, "is a prophet."
"And you're her protector" said Bobby coldly, "some protector you are." Bobby stared the angel down. "She's afraid of you; she claims you tried to kill her."
"Oh, she does, does she," replied Michael. He seemed to consider it and then responded. "Okay, if that is what she believes."
"You weren't trying to kill her?" asked Bobby.
"Of course not," said Michael smoothly, "my job is to protect Alison." "You humans forget that I was the first angel to bow down before humans." He looked at Bobby with some gentleness. "I love humanity."
"Well," replied Bobby, "you'll have to forgive me if I think you are full of crap."
Michael leaned his head back and laughed out loud. "Bluntness," said Michael, "that is what I love about you humans."
"I did not try to kill Alison," said Michael, "I was simply trying to get her to understand, but she ran away from me to the anti-angel room of hers." He picked up a salt shaker and turned it around in his hands.
"What did you want her to understand?" asked Bobby. He didn't want to trust the angel, but found something strangely compelling about him.
"Why Lucifer must die," said Michael.
"I've read her books," replied Bobby, "I think she gets it."
"No," said Michael, "lately, she has come to feel sympathetic for Lucifer." Michael leaned forward and stared deeply into Bobby's eyes. "She feels that I treated him badly."
Bobby said nothing, and let Michael continue.
"She doesn't know what it was like," said Michael with a faraway gaze, "to be the oldest of a family and feel the weight of that responsibility." He looked at Bobby, "to have a brother who was favored, but ultimately, rebelled because he didn't want to live the life of an angel."
Bobby shifted uncomfortably in his chair. This story sounded awfully familiar. Michael did not appear to notice him, but in fact, appeared to be in his own world.
"My father told me," said Michael quietly, "that I would have to save my brother or kill him." Finally, Michael seemed to come out of his reverie and look at Bobby. "I did neither." Michael took in a deep breath before he continued. "I threw my brother over the wall of heaven and locked him in a cage." Tears seemed to glimmer in his eyes as he looked at Bobby. "For 2,000 years, I have stayed in heaven and waited until the day would come when I have to kill Lucifer." He looked at Bobby. "Can you imagine the weight of this on anyone?"
No, thought Bobby, he couldn't. The weight of what Dean has had to carry for so long should have destroyed him and nearly did. Bobby looked at Michael and could seen Dean in the angel's brown eyes. Nevertheless, thought Bobby, he still didn't trust Michael. Something about the angel's sob story didn't sit right with Bobby. He stared at Michael, trying to figure out what that angle was.
"What does this have to do with Alison?" he asked.
"Everything," said Michael, "she is the key to getting people to believe how evil Lucifer is." "The more people believe in the existence of evil with Lucifer as its purveyor, the easier it will be to fight against Lucifer and destroy him."
"And she doesn't want to do it anymore," said Bobby.
"No," said Michael.
"So what do you want from me?" asked Bobby, "I'm not just going to allow you to take this woman and make her a prisoner."
"No, No," said Michael gently, "Just keep her here." "When the time is right I will come and talk to her."
Before Bobby could respond, Michael vanished. Bobby could hear footsteps upstairs. Alison must be awake. Although he knew it was wrong, Bobby decided not to tell Alison about Michael. She needed some rest before dealing with Michael again.