Servant of Heaven
Notes: You've decided to keep reading. Sweet. I hope I can keep your attention. SPN writers tended to be a bit inconsistent with angel blades and who can kill what. In this story, as per Uriel stated in SPN Season Four, the only thing that can kill an angel is another angel is fact. Also, angel blades are infused with the angel's grace.
Hope you enjoy!
Chapter One
"Too many people overvalue what they are not and undervalue what they are."
– Malcolm S. Forbes
Dean laid against the hood of the Impala, gazing at the blanket of stars across the night sky. The sight of it was more breathtaking out at Bobby's place than anywhere else he's been in the States. He used to pull over some nights during long road trips and spend hours watching the stars. It was something he did with Sam, but recently, after he returned from his stint in Hell, he'd been star-gazing in solitude. He'd found more comfort in that.
Funny, it was one of the things he found that he'd missed doing when he came back.
Since Cas raised Dean from perdition, Dean felt the heavy burden of the world upon his shoulders. When he stared at the stars, he'd felt small, insufficient, worthless, and somehow that made the burden easier to carry. After all, he was one unimportant little man. He'd always wondered why Heaven fought so hard to pull him out of Hell. Dean was already on his way into becoming the very monster he hunted, a black-eyed demon. He deserved to stay in Hell. Yet they yanked him out because they had work for him. Or was it because he was Michael's vessel? It was one excuse after another with the angels. Sometimes, Dean wondered if nobody knew the exact reason why Dean was freed and was just waiting for them to toss him back into the pit.
He lifted the bottle of Jack Daniels and took a sip. There wasn't much left and he wanted to savor as much as he could. He wanted this feel-good buzz to last.
Sam and Bobby had both fallen asleep in the midst of researching how to defeat Lucifer...and Michael.
Anger twisted in Dean's gut. Adam was gone, and he knew that Michael was probably in possession of that kid. Dean was so focused on getting Sam out, he'd forgotten to ensure Adam's safety.
That was now another person he'd failed.
He still hadn't heard back from Castiel. It'd hurt to discover that Castiel lost all faith in Dean. It hurt more than he thought. He'd been waiting so long for Cas to realize that Dean wasn't the right person to believe in, for Cas to realize that Dean just wasn't worth fighting for. He'd finally proven Cas wrong. It ached and twisted in his heart. Why did it bother him more to lose Cas' faith than Sam? He wished desperately for Cas to look at him that way again before Dean screwed it all up. He didn't realize how much it made these dark days easier to mosey through by having someone believe so wholeheartedly in you.
Hell, it made Dean like himself just a slight bit more.
Dean had let down many people in his life.
Letting down Cas hurt like a bitch.
Why?
He'd never admit it, but Castiel scared the crap out of him when they first met. Despite that it took Dean a while to trust him, Cas quickly grew into his strange, yet quirky friend. He tried so hard to get Cas to think for himself, to see the bigger picture during their first year knowing each other. He didn't know why he bothered. He chuckled as he remembered a secret Cas told him after only a couple weeks of knowing each other, one that Cas asked Dean never to tell anyone else, a promise that Dean kept to this day.
I'm not a…hammer as you say. I have questions, I have doubts. I don't know what is right and what is wrong anymore.
The confession didn't exactly shock Dean. What surprised him was the amount of trust Castiel had placed in him.
An Angel of the Lord placing unconditional trust in the lowest of men.
The more Dean learned about angels and Heaven, the more he came to realize how much Cas risked telling Dean that secret. Maybe that's why Dean pressed Cas so hard to do the right thing, because he knew that the angel had doubts.
He groaned. And now he'd lost that trust, that unwavering faith.
Add that to Dean's long-ass list of failures.
Dean froze.
There was a slight change in the air, so brief that Dean almost missed it. He set his bottle down on the hood and glanced about.
"Cas?" Dean called out. He slid off the hood and the gravel crunched under his biker boots. His gut told him that it wasn't Cas. He usually heard the ruffle of Castiel's wings before Cas arrived. For the other angels, it was always a change in the air, like the stillness before a storm. He pulled the angel blade from inside his jacket, his eyes scanned Bobby's junkyard.
"Well, I can't say I am not surprised to see you hiding back here."
The hair on Dean's neck stood and he spun on his heels. His grip on the blade tightened. "Michael," he growled out.
Michael stood before him, in Adam's body. The kid looked the exact same as Dean last saw him, minus the blood and with a more intense look upon his features.
He pointed a finger at Michael. "You get the hell out of him."
There was a tug on the corner of Michael's lips. "All you have to say is yes, and I'll be more than happy to relinquish control of this vessel."
"His name is Adam, and you dickbags put him through enough crap."
"It was a result of your stubbornness," Michael said. "Then again, that's why I'm here..." He smiled knowingly. "You were going to say yes."
Dean exhaled a sharp breath. Some part of him was still tempted to. "Well, I've sobered up."
The lines on Michael's forehead creased. "I don't understand. You are still inebriated..."
Dean rolled his eyes. And he thought Cas was bad. "How did you find me anyway? I thought I was hidden from all angels."
Michael tapped the side of his temple. "From Adam's memories."
"And what false promises did you offer him to get him to say yes?"
"I only promised him the truth, just as I will promise you. Say yes to me, and you'll be reunited with your loved ones."
"Yeah, save me the speech, pal," Dean said. "I've heard this before. You angels all sing the same tune. I'm going to say no, and then you'll threaten to harm Bobby and Sam, hell, you may even torture me..."
"You were going to say yes before. You can't change your mind," Michael said.
"Tough," Dean said through gritted teeth. He braced himself, getting ready for whatever Michael was about to dish out next. He burrowed his brows as he saw the archangel slightly tilt his head in a way that was similar to Castiel's.
"I do not understand."
"It's called free will, asswipe. Besides, I was only playing Zachariah, I was using you as a diversion to kill that rat bastard." Okay, that was a slight lie, but Michael didn't need to know that. Dean was saying yes...but he meant what he said to Sam, he wasn't going to let his brother down.
Michael's features grew dark and somehow his presence seemed to tower over Dean, even though he hadn't moved. Something shifted and Dean felt as if there was something hovering over him. "You don't have a choice in the matter!"
Dean only grinned. "That's what you don't get. I do." His heart pattered hard and he wondered if Michael could sense Dean's growing anxiety and fear. What if the douchebag tried to hurt Sammy or Bobby?
Michael took a small step forward.
Dean raised the angel blade in a defense position and glowered hard. He wasn't going down without a fight.
"I'm going to drag you into Heaven and when I'm done with you..." Michael stopped, eyes locked on the angel blade. He titled his head further at it, inspecting it.
Dean wanted to use this distraction as a means to plunge this blade into Michael's heart, but his instincts told him to stay put.
"That blade..."
Dean flicked a quick glance at it. He had scooped it up after Castiel had dropped it back at the warehouse, he'd loaned it to Sam to use on Zachariah, and when that failed, he used it on the douchebag himself. Wait, Sam had dropped that on the floor when he tried to attack Zachariah with it…how did Dean get a hold of it? He filtered through his memories, trying to remember when he scooped up the blade.
Michael's brows creased. "You have an angel blade?" He sounded so confused, and yet terrified at the same.
"It's Castiel's, you bastard."
"No..." Michael said. A blade slipped down from the sleeve of his green jacket and he held up an angel blade. "This is Castiel's. I found it at the green room where Zachariah had summoned me, I'd assumed Castiel..." His eyes widened. "He did kill Zachariah, didn't he?"
"I'm sorry, but I have to take credit for that one. After all, I did promise him I would stab him in the face and I had to uphold it," Dean said.
"That was you?" Michael exclaimed, incredulously. "That is not possible."
This time Dean was confused. What wasn't possible? That Dean made the promise or that he killed Zachariah?
Michael's wide eyes seemed to see Dean for the first time. "Many humans and demons have tried to eliminate us over the years with our own blades. None of them succeeded."
Dean swallowed. He didn't like the sound of that. He wasn't special. It was just a lucky fluke. Sam's the special one. "Yeah, well, maybe they didn't try hard enough."
For the first time, fear entered Michael's features. He took a cautious step back. "Only an angel can kill an angel. That's the way it's always been."
"Maybe you guys need to get your facts straight."
Michael made a strange clicking sound with his tongue. "I can't make out the grace that's the sword is a part of."
Dean blinked. "What?"
"I knew this blade was Castiel's because it's infused with a part of his grace." Another blade slipped into Michael's other hand. "This archangel blade is infused with mine. No one can used it but me. Your blade...it's not infused with grace." He scrutinized the blade, his face concentrating so hard that it looked like he was constipated. Michael gasped. "That's not possible."
"You keep saying that," Dean grumbled.
"Your blade, it has the makings of an angel blade, yet...instead of grace, it's infused with your soul."
Soul? Dean didn't like the sound of that. Why was this blade infused with his soul? A sharp memory of his right arm tingling with warmth surfaced, the need to kill Zachariah, to ensure justice for the crimes Zachariah had committed and wanted to commit against humanity, to protect mankind from Zachariah's dream of his so-called Paradise. A blade had slipped down into his hand. Dean never thought twice about where it came from, just that he had a blade. Did it just materialized into…No. No. Michael's tricking him. Dean's not special.
"Don't play games with me, Michael," Dean said. "I'm not falling for that."
"Games? Oh. Why do you think I would be lying to you about this?" Michael peered a bit closer at Dean, as if trying to read his soul.
This time, Dean stepped back. What's the matter? You don't think you deserved to be saved. Castiel had read him in a heartbeat.
"Interesting," Michael muttered. "I have never noticed this before. Your soul shines differently than most humans."
"My soul?" Dean chuckled dryly. "Right. Trust me. My soul is a big dark nothing."
"I never noticed because the part of Castiel's grace that's connected to you is shielding it from me. It gets defensive when I try to peer into your soul."
The handprint on Dean's left shoulder tingled at the remark. "What do you mean connected?"
"When Castiel raised you from Hell, he used his grace to bind you back into your body. There will always be a part of his grace within you, but it doesn't explain your blade and how you were able to kill Zachariah." Michael's lips pursed. "Who are you, Dean Winchester?"
"Look, can we stop with the psychoanalyzing and get to the part where you get the hell out of here?" Dean raised his blade again, this time in a threatening manner.
Michael heaved out a sigh. "I have to fight my brother, Dean. It's my destiny. You of all people should understand that."
Dean laughed bitterly. "And you should know that I went to hell for my brother."
"And what did he give you in return?" Michael snapped.
Dean flinched. Why did that always bother him?
"He broke his promise to you. He chose to become an abomination..."
"Careful, that's my little brother you're talking about there."
Michael pressed on. "He chose a demon over you. Tell me, Dean, does your brother know the exact depths of your sacrifice?"
Hurt prickled across Dean's chest and he couldn't breathe. Sammy is his brother. He would continue to give Sam everything, even if he didn't get anything back. That's what family was. "Shut up, Michael. I didn't exactly honor my father's sacrifice to save me."
"Of course you did. You honored his last words."
Dean's nostril flared. "Don't you say it…"
But to Michael, Dean was nothing but a puzzle to be put together and solved. "He asked you to save Sammy, and that nothing else mattered, if you couldn't, you might have to kill him. Those words forced you to make the deal to save your brother…because nothing else mattered, which meant..."
"Michael," Dean growled.
"Which meant you didn't matter."
The air rushed out of his lungs. Why did everyone always had to remind Dean that? He knew that. Hell, Alastair constantly reminded him of that in Hell.
"Your father was wrong, Dean."
"Look, I know I'm expendable. I know I'm worthless. I know nothing I do matters. But this…saying no to you. That matters," Dean snarled. "My free will is not an illusion. I choose to say no."
"You'll change your mind again. Because in your heart, you know it's your destiny to say yes."
"So what if it is? Aren't you tired of destiny making your choices for you? Or are you such a big coward to choose for yourself that you let destiny control you like a sad pathetic little puppet."
Dean swore he saw a flash of wings behind Michael. "I'm no one's puppet!" he screamed.
"Then prove me wrong. Help me find out a way to take down Lucifer without wiping out half the planet. And if there's, honest to god, no other way...then maybe I'll say yes."
Michael's shoulders relaxed as if a weight was being lowered. "Are you proposing a deal?"
"We can argue here until our faces turn blue and Lucifer finally destroys the planet. I promise you, if there's no other option, if it's a Hail Mary...I'll say yes."
"There is no other way," Michael said.
"Maybe not, but you can't exactly prove that, can you?" Dean said.
Michael placed his blade back up his right sleeve, but kept Castiel's out. "I don't like this preposition. But if it's the easier path to ensure our destiny, then I'll accept."
Dean prayed that they would find another option. That he wouldn't have to say yes. He may be expendable, but this planet wasn't. He wasn't going to expend people's lives to win this war. But if there truly was no other option, Dean needed to ensure he would be able to say yes. He didn't want to live out that future in 2014 where all the angels left and Dean was lying dead in a graveyard.
"I'll be more willing to agree in the future, if you get into my good graces," Dean said.
Michael studied Dean in suspicion. "How so?"
"Find Cas. He banished himself so that we could save Adam…" He scoffed staring at Adam's vessel. So much for that. "I need to know he's okay."
Michael glanced at Cas' blade. "I should be able to hone into him by using his own grace to find him. I'll bring him here."
"Okay."
"Dean...I expect you to uphold your deal."
"And I expect you to uphold yours," Dean shot back.
Michael clamped his mouth shut. He still seemed conflicted, but pleased as if he knew he'd already won. Self-arrogant prick.
"I shall return with Castiel." With one flap of his wings, Michael disappeared.
Dean slumped back against the hood of the Impala. He glanced down at his angel blade. "There's nothing special about me," he muttered. He tossed the blade into the junkyard and grabbed his bottle of bourbon, downing the rest of the contents down his throat.