March, 18th 2014

I don't own any of the characters, CW and Eric Kripke do!

Beta for this Chapter: Ashqtara

A/N: Hey there my loyal readers :)

Happy belated St. Patrick's! Why am I saying this? Because I'm in Dublin rn and that's one of the reasons I didn't upload anything last weekend. Also there may be a small pause after this (yes, I'm sorry, it's cruel I know) because I have actually not written any further chapters after this one ^^". This is actually exactly as far as I got with NaNoWriMo last November and that's why I could upload frequently like this. Right now I'm visiting a friend and next week I'm in London and the week after that the semester starts so I don't know how much time I'll have to actually write stuff but I'll try. No promises though xP If it makes you feel any better, the beta also had to live with the cliffhanger ^^""". I think she still hates me for it...

No, I'm not trying to blacmail you with the review thing. But if you publish something and then there's this big blob of silence there's all this funny stuff running through your head, you think it's useless to publish at all, you could just stop writing and nobody would care, it's aweful anyway...stuff like that.

Those of you that also upload ff have to know what I'm talking about? Or am I the only one feeling this way? Writing into the void is painful, that's why I was asking you honestly if you could at least drop a few words, I don't want a whole up and down critique, just a few words are encouragement enough :3

Anyway! Hope you like this one, it's rather depressing but also very good I think, tension wise :D

Ky111: Yeah, I know, that was sappy xD. But trust me, that's over now ^^"

Eclipse Wing: Aww, thank you, dear! This really helped me :3 Like I said above, I don't want to blackmail, it's just nice to read a reaction and not shout into the void all the time ^^. I guess I may be used to the Percy Jackson Fandom and my old story, I got so much feedback then I'm probably spoiled xD

00-night-eyes-00: God, I do? Thanks for telling me, I'll do that :3 Also thanks for your continuous reviews, very sweet ^^

TwistedNoir: Yeah I can understand why you'd drop out, the new stuff just isn't the same...*sigh*. Aww, thanks, I'm really glad I could stir that nostalgia, thank you :D

LegendaryArimaspi: You're welcome haha. I'm glad you're still with us and still reading, that's so nice :3. And rambling is completely fine too :D

Now please enjoy :3

Chapter 18

When God is gone and the Devil takes hold,
who'll have mercy on your soul

Abigail stared at her hands and the simple necklace in it. It wasn't hers. Well, at least not until a few minutes ago. Michael, or rather Dean –or both?- had come to her before she went off to bed, cornering her in one of the empty rooms of Bobby Singer's big house. It was strange, staying here when she had only known the guy for a day, appearing in his living room with an archangel, another angel and Sam, who was strangely enough Lucifer's vessel. It still didn't fit in her mind. Sam was a gentle and kind person, why would Lucifer chose him of all people for such a task? Or was it not a matter of choice but something else?

Anyway, Michael had looked her in the eye and said:

"I know you didn't want the others to know yet. About your secret. I'm here to tell you that it's going to be okay. And my real gift to you weren't the words from Larry. It's this." And he brought forward this necklace. It was beautiful, made out of silver and the pendant at the end was a simple and thin cross. When she touched it though, warmth spread from it and seemed to flow through her, sending a slight shiver down her spine.

"A cross? How would this help me? I've worn cross necklaces before." She frowned at the archangel, wondering if he was kidding. She also wanted to know how he found out or if he had known all along, what she was. How she had become this. But the angel just smiled.

"Not like this one. This is forged from the same metal as our angel blades, dipped in the waters of Eden and rubbed in the purest salt on earth. The words on the back are Hebrew letters that read "Kaf" "Hei" and "Tehilateha" and mean 'and I will praise you all day long'. I personally blessed it, too. It's probably the purest object that currently exists." He sounded so proud of himself that Abby would have almost laughed, if the situation hadn't been so serious and confusing.

"Okay. This will help me suppress it?" she asked, her voice hopeful. All her life, she had to train to suppress this curse that was sleeping inside her own body, not being able to change anything about it. Larry had helped her but there was no way of getting rid of it, obviously. If Michael couldn't, nobody could. She had accepted that by now. It was obviously the same with Sam and the demon blood. But Michael shook his head, making her frown again.

"No, control it. Abby, you can turn this curse around as a gift. Don't dismiss your gifts just because they came from the wrong source. Sources don't matter. It matters what you do with them." His smile was so full of hope and believe that she didn't have the heart to crush those hopes down, tell him that wasn't possible, that she had tried that before and almost ruined a whole apartment complex.

So she nodded and he backed off, turned towards the door.

"Alright. I will be going then." He said, opening the door and giving the room the additional light from the hallway.

"Where? You're not going to-"

"No, not yet. I'm just getting my weapon of choice." His head turned and Dean's grin flashed at her. Seriously, it was as if these two had melted together, one using the words of the others and their body language fusing, nobody was able to recognize who was speaking any more, at least she didn't think they did.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, don't worry." He pointed down the hall to one of the doors. "Sam's in that bedroom."

Okay, that grin was definitely Dean. And her blush was definitely the same as the one she had received when Dean spoke to her like that in Larry's kitchen, about Sam and her being his type. She nodded and without making another comment, walked to said door, entering the room quietly. The fluttering of wings was heard before she could relax and lean against the door with a sigh. The necklace was closed around her thin neck now and she drew her brunette hair over it, smiling at the way the necklace looked against her chest. The metal was thin and elegant, the silver almost glowing in the dim light of the room. Just her imagination, probably.

"Abby? That you?" Sam's voice sounded from the bed. With the moonlight shining through the window, Abby could see his eyes half open and she smiled at the sight of his long hair being all messy from tossing around in his sleep. It had been several hours since Sam had excused himself for bed but he had obviously not found the best of sleeps yet.

"Yeah. Mind if I sleep in here?" she asked, not wanting to force herself on him if he wanted to be alone or wait for Dean to come in, even if the older Winchester didn't need any sleep, now that he was the archangel's vessel and all.

"Not at all." Was Sam's rather quick answer that made Abby relax and smile as she walked over to the other queen sized bed, dropping on the soft mattress with a sigh. She removed her jacket and tossed it into the next chair by the beds, then got out all her weapons and put them on top of that, carefully lying them down like they were something precious, to be cared for. A chuckle flew to her ears from the other bed.

"What?"

"Nothing, just thinking."

"Spit it out, Winchester. What's so funny?" she asked, her brown eyes narrowing at him.

"I just think you're a lot like Dean sometimes." A lift of her eyebrow cried for specification.

"What parts?"

"The not annoying ones." Sam grinned, his unruly hair falling into his eyes.

"Not enough." She threatened, her hand slowing lowering on her hunting knife. Sam threw up his hands in mock defeat, the position looking strange with him still snuggled into the giant pillow.

"Alright, alright! I mean…the way you handle your weapons like they are some kind of treasure, your sarcastic attitude, the way you bury every emotion you don't want anybody to see deep inside." He smiled at the flinch that earned from her. "How you carry your father's journal around all the time. Dean used to do that a lot when our Dad went missing without even realizing it." He glanced at the journal, which was one of the items she had brought into the room, strangely and correctly enough without even realizing she did. Okay, this was getting scary. But Sam wasn't finished yet. "Also, you're a lot smarter than you let on, mostly observing more than tossing the smart stuff around. And there's this look in your eyes, like you're hiding this big, deep-"

"Okay, that's enough, I get it." She suddenly snapped, a little harsher than she had wanted. Soon realizing her mistake, she forced a grin on her lips.

"I guess I'm Deanne Winchester after all." She said, dropping back down on the bed and hiding her legs under the covers. Sam gave an honest and loud laugh at that insider joke between them. Come on, that had been a good distraction.

"I guess." He finished with a chuckle. There was small silence and Abby prepared to snuggle into the bed completely but Sam's voice interrupted him.

"Aren't you going to take that necklace off? Wait…is that new?" he asked. Abigail held her movements and contemplated what to tell him. The truth? A lie? No, lying shouldn't stand between them anymore. They were entering a war soon, after all and there shouldn't be separation in their own party. But she wouldn't just spill all her secrets. So she stuck with the necessary information.

"Yeah. Michael-Dean just gave it to me." Sam seemed surprised but nodded. Obviously, he wasn't surprised by Michael giving out presents any more, after this afternoon where his game of Santa Claus had surprised them all a little.

"Michael-Dean?" he asked instead of drilling further, maybe sensing her discomfort at the questioning, drawing the conversation into the direction of easy banter again.

"Yeah. I can't really tell them apart anymore." She confessed, drawing the covers over her shoulders and dropping her head in the pillow, spreading her shimmering brown hair everywhere on the white blankets. Sam nodded, his expression also serious now.

"I know what you mean…it's like they've melted together…" he paused, sighing heavily. "I hope that's not a bad thing." His face showed deep concern for his older brother, probably worrying if he would ever get him back the way it was. Abby felt the sudden urge to sooth those worry lines form his face.

"I'm sure everything will work out fine. Look who we have on our side. Two archangels and the rest of heaven with them, the best hunters I've heard of and hey, you have me, too. What could possibly go wrong?" the last sentence had a hint of sarcasm in it but Sam just shook his head, a hint of mock disappointment in his voice.

"Man, you just jinxed us."

"What, why?"

"You know how in every movie ever, when somebody says 'what could possibly go wrong', practically everything goes wrong?" Abby snickered at that reminder, certainly remembering that sentence.

"Okay, you're right. I'm taking that part back. My point still stands though." She clarified. "After this meeting, seeing those plans…I'm pretty sure about this. And you should be, too. It's your brother leading the front line." Sam nodded into the pillow, his eyes closing for a moment, to collect himself.

"I know." His voice was laced with so much grief and worry that Abby felt the need to crawl over to him and hug him until he felt better, stroke through his hair and whisper soothing words in his ear like he had done to her at Larry's Deathbed. But something held her back, something telling her he didn't want an invasion of space right now, from anybody. The middle Winchester drew the blankets (which had been changed after last night) around him tightly and pressed his lips together. She could practically hear his thoughts rushing with this one big looming guilt he was still hiding from her. They both had secrets and Abby had the feeling they both didn't feel ready to share yet, ready to give up something that personal and risk the other one pushing them away as a consequence. Abby had been through that scenario one too many times now. She'd never been keen on telling anybody but see, teenagers and boyfriends…well, she thought it would be forever. And as soon as the words were out she was left on the street, with the word 'freak' hanging in her mind forever, lingering with her through all the years in high school. Satanist, weapon fanatic, karate junky. She had been called many things but the look in her boyfriend's eyes when he spat that word would stick with her for the rest of her life. And whenever there was a glimpse of not being normal again, it would be brought back up again, whispered, with glances that could kill if glances could do that to a person.

"We should get some sleep. I'm sure things will look up in the morning." She shot him a reassuring smile, a real and warm one, hoping that it would get to him somehow. He snapped from his thoughts, glanced over to her and his features relaxed a little, a small smile creeping to his lips.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Good night."

"Good night, Sam."

~.~.~.~

As soon as Sam drifted off, the dream began. He hadn't had something like this in years, not since Azazel's death. Immediately, he knew what kind of dream it was.

A vision.

Michael landed in a hallway, not looking at the artwork surrounding him. He was interested in something that wasn't of any human interest or value. At least not unless they knew its true significance and purpose.

The angel strode along the corridors of the museum in a quiet pace, elegant and graceful but fast, not alerting any alarm systems at all but also not wanting to waltz into any traps by landing directly at his goal. So he took the longer way and checked out the surroundings. Nobody he could sense, which meant nobody was there, most certainly. Good. He should get back to Sam as soon as possible, not wanting to risk any intrusion by his younger brother again. But it should be more difficult now, with the wards he was still holding up.

Rounding the corner, he came to a halt when he saw it. There, in the hands of a stone statue was the object of his desire.

Michael's sword. Not the vessel, the material weapon. The flaming sword aiding him in the battle against Lucifer and his armies. Why he was supposed to be hiding it on earth had been a mystery to him when his father had ordered it but he began to understand. Earth was the place where balance between good and evil was fought every day and a weapon like this wasn't supposed to be kept in the weapon halls of heaven when it was for pure destruction only, even if it was for all the right reasons.

He had started to understand many more things in the last few days. But it wasn't worth thinking about now, he needed to get to work. So he stepped up the steps to the statue. It was the likeness of some kind of entity that at one point maybe even was supposed to represent him. He couldn't remember any more. Immortality was difficult with humans. They changed and died so quickly and their evolution was extraordinary. So for them, this statue was ancient when for Michael, he had just placed that sword there a few days ago, storing it from the last big battle with his brother. The one he'd tried to put away from his mind ever since.

His hand stretched out, his mind completely at peace now, knowing that with the sword, victory would sure come to him.

"My my. What do we have here?" a voice interrupted his thoughts. His fingers were mere inches away from the swords handle but he quickly drew them away. That voice, he knew. No matter the vessel he wore.

"Lucifer." He grumbled. It was a good thing he hadn't freed the sword. Michael was the only one who could transform it and once it was out, Lucifer might have attempted to steal it. So he stepped away before finally turning around to face his brother.

Maybe he should have known. A false sense of security was one of Lucifer's specialties, luring out his prey before the final strike. He'd never used it against his older brother before but it had sure been effective.

"Michael." The grin on the younger Archangel's face was as cruel and sure as ever, head tilted and eyes cold. Most humans thought Lucifer was the hot one, burning his victims in hell with the hottest fires. But they were wrong. The devil, stuck in the deepest pits of hell, was cold, colder than ice, chilling and freezing your mind to the point humans may think they feel hot, overwhelming their nervous system. Having him stand here before him, Michael was once again reminded of that fact and of how much his brother had changed since his fall.

"Long time no see. I'm disappointed you didn't come by to say hi as soon as you touched the earth. Shouldn't there be a big bang and light and everything? You always loved the big entrance." Michael lifted Dean Winchester's eyebrows at his brother.

"I'm sorry, but I think you're confusing me with yourself. Remember that big ray of light when you bust out of the cage. I'd call that overcompensating." There were big drips of sarcasm in his voice and Lucifer haltered in his step towards him from the door, eyebrows rising impossibly high before the grin spread further on his half-burned cheeks. Oh yeah, this vessel was wearing thin already. Michael could see why Lucifer went to the desperate approach to get to Sam. The younger Winchester was a much stronger vessel than the one the morning star was occupying now.

"Oh, impressive. The new vessel came with a humor package. See, that's why I wanted a Winchester, too." He stroked his chin. "Always wondered what drew you to that one but I can see it now. You two just fit together, don't you? He's made a whole new person of you, Michael. You could almost be bearable to be around." If Dean Winchester had sarcasm down, Lucifer was perfection. The older Archangel rolled his eyes and came further down the steps, meeting his younger brother half way through the hall, the circle on the ground between them. His eyes were burning holes into the younger ones and that could be taken quite literally. Because if Lucifer was the cold one, Michael was hot. Not in the sexual sense, of course (even if Dean's body may convey to that fact) but in the literal, burning hot fire sense. His presence turned demons to ashes and his touch was as torrid as the core of the sun of this solar system. He was filled with passion where Lucifer had resentment, radiated love for the devil's hate.

Polar opposites but yet brothers.

"So. Let's say I foresaw you coming to take that sword again. What now? You won't just give it to me, will you?" there was slight hope in Lucifer's eyes at his word but Michael's face stayed stoic and serious.

"Not really."

"Thought so."

"What makes you think you can make me?" Michael asked, standing behind Lucifer in the next millisecond, in his hand a fireball ready to burn through his brother's heart. Of course, Lucifer was prepared for that. He whirled around and dodged the blow, let it hit the wall behind him. Alarms were going off, making Michael wince for his sensitive ears and curse for the damage he hadn't wanted to cause. The giant crater and licking flames probably weren't that easy to overlook.

"Always so aggressive, big brother." Lucifer chided. He snipped his fingers and the alarm shut off, giving a pathetic last wince as if being strangled to death.

"Humans, huh? Alarm systems for things they made themselves, stored in small halls for other humans to stare at. Pathetic. See, this is what I don't understand. How could father care for these creatures? They're small and weak, they fall for every trick in the book over and over and over and they never learn. History or whatever they call it is repeating itself and they don't even notice. How could you want to defend that, Michael? It's so beneath you it's saddening." Lucifer and him were circling each other now, Lucifer's hands fumbling about in expression while Michael remained still, his right hand drawing the golden angel blade from his sleeve.

"You're the one that doesn't get it, Luci. Humans may be weak but with every small life they have, they achieve something greater, bigger than themselves. Their inner strength isn't anything like our grace, the human soul is so much more valuable than anything in existence because it went through suffering, precisely because they fall and get up again over and over. They are father's work of perfect imperfection and it is his will to protect them from threats like yourself. And you know how I've always been Daddy's boy, right?" he narrowed his eyes at the words and Lucifer shook his head, the grin back. Michael lifted one of his vessel's hands and put it on his own broad chest.

"Take Dean here for example. He's been through so much in his life. But even though his soul is battered and torn at the edges, he has the strongest I've laid eyes upon for millennia. Your demons tore each other apart over that deal with him, did you hear about that? Lilith licked her ugly lips over it for one whole year. It was a yard sell down there, everyone wanted to be the one making the contract. But even after forty years, his soul still isn't yours. Rising from the deepest depth of hell and gather yourself up to continue fighting with all you have isn't a task even you seem to be able to master. I mean look at you. You're just a shadow of what you've once represented, Morgenstern." Michael drove over Dean's jacket with Dean's own fingers, his movements more gently then with touching anybody else. Humans were fragile, still. And Dean was his true sword, a weapon just as powerful as that one over there, if not more. But the flaming blade wasn't something he really needed. Dean was. Lucifer's smile faltered only for a small moment there.

"Oh, I do love that new vessel. It looks good on you, Mike. Just one more reason why I want to slowly peel off his skin and feet him to my hounds all over again. I bet his brother would like that." The chuckle was cold and ironic. Would Michael not be so used to it, a shudder would go down his spine as it did with Sam now, who was tossing and turning in his bed, watching without the angels knowing.

"This isn't about Dean. Tell me your plan and I'll spare you. Why did you come here to interrupt me? Scared I'd kill you if I get hold of the sword? Don't think I actually need it, I could bring you down without it just fine." The older brother snarled, righteous anger in his voice, gripping the golden angel-blade higher. Lucifer still didn't have his weapon out but that didn't matter. Michael knew that his sword was just the taunting threat hanging over his younger brother and the morning star could get his own blade out in the matter of milliseconds.

"I don't think so. See, I've been thinking…"

"Oh, that's never good."

"And I've come to the conclusion that with the right ingredients and the right spell….I do have the one thing in my hands that you're powerless against, my dear all powerful big brother." Michael didn't answer, not quite following or not wanting to follow.

"There's no such thing." He said, his voice tight. There was. But that wasn't in Lucifer's grasp.

"There isn't? Come on. Your name might mean 'he who is like god' in the old tongue but you wouldn't put yourself above father, right?"

"No. But father's missing, hiding from all of us. I'm pretty sure if he won't reveal himself to me, he won't come to you because of some little spell you casted." The anger in his voice was fuming now. How dare Lucifer accuse him of thinking himself above their father, the creator of all?

"Well you see that's where you're actually right. He didn't show up, the jerk. But I wasn't talking about him. I was talking about his counterpart. About this other...being that happens to be under my power under certain apocalyptic circumstances." As Lucifer's grin grew, Michael stopped in his tracks. For the first time in millennia, he actually felt cold when realization hit him.

"You didn't." he growled. Then he attacked. It wasn't like him, it was almost desperate. But he couldn't stand that Lucifer had been smart enough to figure it out, brave enough to dare and win that bet. So his passion for doing the right thing boiled over, making the controlled archangel maybe a tiny bit reckless.

Suddenly, Lucifer was gone, behind him. Michael stabbed thin air and before he could whirl around, there was someone in front of him.

"Well, hello, Michael. I haven't seen you in a vessel in a long time. You've grown."

The archangel stood, eyes wide and vary.

"Hello, Death." He greeted. Ironic. Greeting Death. He should write that down somewhere. The world was slowing down around him and why was it so cold all of a sudden? Michael glanced over to Lucifer. He saw the chains in his little brother's hands, the binding chains that went over the floor on either side of him, ending on death's wrists.

"He's bound me. I thought you had your brother under better control than that. You know I don't like being treated this way." Death's voice was as chilling as ever, calculating, no emotion. Old, very old memories flashed Michael's mind from their last meeting. He remembered things about Death. Horseman. Ring. That was the reason for Lucifer's brief control over him. But he was a natural force, too. Their father's opposite. Back when his father had really been his father, present and telling his children stories, he had explained that one day in the far far far future, when the world would finally be reborn, Death and God would swallow each other and the world would be nothing again as it had been in the beginning. Death was powerful and existed in all parallel time streams just like their father did. And his touch was lethal. To everything. He controlled its strength but if Lucifer controlled him…

"I'm sorry." Death sounded almost sincere. But it didn't hinder him from stepping forward, still hindering Michael from moving, and coldly putting his hand right through the oldest archangel's chest. Dean' bright green eyes went wide, pain perfusing his entire being, a silent scream being pushed out with the air of his lungs. Death looked right into those suffering pools, gaze cold but a hint of regret in them, gripping tightly onto his very grace.

And crushing it.

For the first time in his entire long, long life, Michael, the prince of heaven, collapsed.

And the hope for the world went down with him.

~.~.~.~

But what is this, that I can't see
with ice cold hands taking hold of me
When God is gone and the Devil takes hold,
who will have mercy on your soul

Oh, Death,

No wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold
Nothing satisfies me but your soul

Oh, Death,

Well I am Death, none can excel,
I'll open the door to heaven or hell.

Oh, Death,

my name is Death and the end is here

…

~Oh Death, Jen Titus

...I...yeah. I don't really know what to say to this. Sorry? It'll be okay? Lol no really, this is it for now.

I really enjoyed writing the Lucifer-Michael conversations and I hope I got them to seem convincing and all. Aaaaalso I don't know, if this chapter doesn't get a reaction I don't know what the hell I have to write to make you say anything xD. I did get more reviews on the last one though so thank you! Let's see what you're all making of this one ;P You have plenty of time to comment~

See you guys then! I hope you're not too mad at me ^^"

What do you think? PLEASE tell me what you think, I'd really appreciate it! :3