A/N: Throw out everything you know about season four and the finale for season three. You know what? Throw out the rest of season three as well. As a matter of fact, this is now AU, ok? It's just…AU. There. Lol. Have fun .

A/N: Just to clarify, there are no true spoilers in this. Simply similar themes.


At the sound of the voice, Elle whirled around—hand still entangled in Sam's hair—to face the doorway.

And Dean.

Dean, who, despite being nearly comatose not long ago, seemed to be back to his normal self. Right down to the condescending smirk on his face.

"Sam, what did I tell you about starting the fun with out me?"

"You? What? How?" Elle spluttered questions, for once practically speechless.

"Who, when, where, why—I think that about covers it." Dean quipped as he moved into the room.

"So," He clapped his hands together, "Now that Twenty Questions is over, I'll just take my brother and be out of your hair." Dean eyed the location of Elle's hand. "Or you'll be out of his hair. Whatever."

Sam frowned as he realized that Dean had basically entered the belly of the beast with no weapons.

"Dean," Sam started only to be cut off.

"Sammy, say good bye to your girlfriend, we're leaving."

Had his brother not noticed that he was sort of tied up at the moment? He knew the restraints were invisible, but did Dean think he was standing there just for the fun of it?

"Kinda stuck right now, Dean."

Elle removed her hand from Sam's hair, leaving behind a patch of cold where it once lay.

"Leave? But this is your home…"

"Lady, I don't know what yarn you've been spinnin' my brother, but I'd rather live in Love Canal during the Fifties than stay in this place."

Giving a frustrated sigh, Dean turned towards Maros. "Think you could release my brother now? I really want to get this show on the road. You know, things to see, people to do, not necessarily in that order."

When Maros gave no response, Dean groaned.

"I don't have time for this."

Turning his gaze back in Elle and Sam's direction, Dean moved a step closer.

"Look, lady, you're not getting back in. I mean, all the souls in the world can't erase that faux pas from your record. You might as well give it up now."

"You know nothing of which you speak." Elle practically growled at Dean, her body language resembling that of a threatened animal preparing to attack.

As he watched Dean interact with his captors, Sam realized that something was off with his brother. He couldn't figure out what it was, but Dean wasn't exactly himself. It wasn't the fact that Dean was antagonizing Elle—he did that with everyone, despite Sam's constant chastising. Even their dad hadn't been able to break Dean of that habit. No, it was something else. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

He watched as his brother truly leveled his gaze at the lone female in the room.

"He clipped your wings. You didn't fall as far as some, but you fell nonetheless."

It was a statement of fact followed by an off-hand remark, and Elle's stance grew rigid as a combination of confusion and fear splayed across her face as Dean spoke.

"What did you say?"

Dean took a step forward, a mockingly chastising look plastered on his face.

"Don't tell me you thought that when God cast you from his kingdom, it was nothing more than a slap on the wrist—a little reprimand to his defiant children?" Dean tsked. "And then, instead of repenting you decided that it was your job to use what He had made for your own selfish gain."

Elle began to back away as Dean sauntered closer.

"Maros, bind him."

Sam felt the pressure on his arms and legs lessen as the man divided his attention between the two brothers.

Dean paused, glancing at his feet before effortlessly continuing forward.

"Sorry sweetheart, that's not His magic, and He's not protecting you anymore." Dean shrugged with one shoulder. "You turned your back on Him and He took his eyes off of you."

Like a cornered creature, Elle suddenly lashed out. Almost faster than Sam's eyes could track, she bodily pinned Dean to the floor.

"I take it you like it rough," Dean grunted, "But I feel kinda awkward with your husband in the room. That and the fact that you're old enough to be Grandma Moses…" Dean barely managed to choke out his sarcasm as Elle applied pressure to his throat.

"I don't know who or what you are, but since I can't have your soul…" her grip on his neck tightened further as she let the sentence hang in the air.

The throaty laugh that rumbled from Dean wasn't exactly the response any of them were expecting.

"No," Dean taunted, his voice becoming half an octave lower as he lifted his head from the floor, "means 'No'."

If not for Maros' concentration, Sam would have fallen over when he saw that his brother's eyes were no longer the vivid greenish brown he'd known since childhood, but were instead a luminescent silver.

Elle's grip on Dean's neck went slack from shock. She scrambled backwards towards Sam as Dean's body rose to a stand.

"What are you?"

"You should have listened when the boy asked for his brother. Then again, you didn't listen when Father warned us of the consequences of insubordination. Why should now be any different?"

"Michael?"

The trepidation coloring Elle's voice filled Sam with guarded hope. If this was the Michael he thought it was, his captors where in for a very one-sided fight.

"In the flesh." Dean's face tilted down in acknowledgement of his body. "Well, in someone else's flesh."

Sam noticed his bindings weakening once again as the lights in the office began flashing.

Silver eyes momentarily looked at the flickering lights before sliding towards the man against the wall.

"Hello, Amaros."

Sam felt his body move when Elle backed into him in her haste to retreat from the being currently inhabiting his brother's body.

"You shouldn't be here. He didn't finish. I—I stopped it."

Michael once again focused on the female whose escape had been hindered by Sam's form.

"Apparently, not soon enough." Michael motioned an arm towards Elle. "I believe you were interrupted earlier. Why don't you finish telling the boy who you really are, Gadreel, or are you too ashamed?"

There was a beat of silence, the tension in the air seemingly causing it to stretch on for an insurmountable length of time.

Her body still pressed against his, Sam felt Elle tremble. But when she spoke her voice was fire and venom.

"You think we were hunted because we were witches? Or Gypsies? No, we were hunted because we were the Fallen."

"Fallen? As in the angels?" Holy…Well, that explains some things.

Ignoring Sam's questions, she continued.

"We were punished, banned to live with your kind. Humankind. As soon as He exiled us many of us realized our mistake in blindly following Lucifer. So we distanced ourselves from the other Fallen. We were a legion—a flock—but we've dwindled one by one to such low numbers. Only a handful of us are still on this miserable plane of existence."

"Yes, and after today there will be two less."

Where the hell did that come from?

In a manner reminiscent of the immortals from one of the few TV shows Dean and Sam managed to both enjoy, a gleaming sword suddenly occupied Michael's current right hand. Smoothly, he drew nearer to Gadreel, providing Sam with a better view of the intricately marked sword. The engravings were like nothing he'd ever come across, but he could sense the power emanating from the sword itself and he had a feeling that the designs were more about containing power rather than amplifying it.

The closer Michael came, the more insolent Gadreel became. And more brainless, if you asked Sam.

Chin jutted forward in defiance, she snarled.

"We have done nothing wrong."

"Nothing wrong? You listened to the lies of the serpent tongue. You believed in him and you followed him as you should have Father. You angered Him. You disappointed Him. So He sent me."

Now mere centimeters from Gadreel's face, Michael questioned, "Who do you wish to serve?"

A moment passed in hesitant silence.

"Our Father."

A hand shot up, grabbing her face by the chin, pulling it slightly closer to Michael as he leaned further in.

"You should have thought that way before you betrayed Him."

Sam knew that only a few minutes passed after that, but it felt like hours of having Gadreel pressed so firmly against him, Michael never relinquishing his hold, never changing position. Statuesque.

So Sam couldn't help but be startled when Michael once again spoke.

"I am sorry, Amaros."

No movement from anywhere other than his mouth, Michael's eyes stayed focused on Gadreel's as he continued. "You were always one of my favorites. Like a little brother. If only you hadn't strayed so far."

Suddenly, Michael was no longer near Gadreel. Instead he stood half-way across the room, directly in front of Amaros, sword arcing towards him in a beautiful deadly sweep. As the sword completes the journey through its intended victim, Amaros disappears.

It happens so fast, neither Gadreel nor Sam has the time to prepare for the lack of support once Amaros' bindings disappear.

Falling to the floor, Sam shoves Gadreel and shuffles backwards, away from his former captor as Michael approaches her once again.

Maybe she's decided to stand her ground. Perhaps she knows there's no escape. Chances are she could just be in shock. Either way, everyone is aware of the tremors of fear in her frame as she scrambles to her feet, watching Michael in apprehension.

"We were only doing what we were forced to do."

"No one forced you. This was by your on hand." He shook his head. "You didn't think that Father was going to reopen His house to you, did you?" Michael nodded in Sam's direction. "He granted them forgiveness, not you."

"But He would have, had you not banished Amaros! We have been cleansing ourselves of our sin. What we were doing was just."

"Just!?" Michael thundered, the resonance of his voice almost deafening to Sam as he continued to watch the scene play out. "Every soul you've forcibly taken from its natural place was marred. Your kind has caused more harm than any of the other Fallen. Half of our battles are in retrieving those souls and repairing them before Lucifer's followers can touch them, bring them to their side and increase their numbers. For every soul they get, their forces multiply by a thousand. You've caused enough bloodshed in this war, and you're one pawn I'll gladly be rid of."

"I am not a part of your war. I will not be punished."

He chuckled, a warm, frightening sound.

"You're wrong, it's Father's war and His war is everyone's war." Eyes locked on hers, he twirls the sword nimbly in his hand. "But it's not like you didn't know. You chose sides the moment you decided to follow the Light Bearer to the Accuser."

"He tricked us!"

"No one tricked you. It was nobody's fault but your own."

"Pride was his downfall. He was so proud that he couldn't see what Father had given him. He was so proud that he had to change his name. You should have changed your name as well because He stopped helping you long ago."

"We've been here eons upon eons, why is it that you've just come to us now if it is truly His will that we be destroyed."

"Who said I was to destroy you? I'm sending you to valley with the rest of your kind. You'll see judgment when the time arrives. As for the timing? This is the first body to come along with a spirit strong enough to house me." Michael rolled Dean's shoulders and continued with a feral grin. "I was commanded to make sure that Lucifer and his followers learned their lessons, and I always follow my orders."

The lustrous sword arced once more, its course now intersecting with Gadreel's immobile body. In an instant, like Amaros, she too was gone.

Just as it had inexplicably appeared, the sword vanished as well.

From his position on the floor, Sam then found himself the recipient of Michael's unnerving gaze.

"You're possessing my brother?"

"Don't worry, Samuel. It's nothing like what happened to you. Being possessed by an angel isn't like being possessed by a demon. Demons force themselves into their hosts, ripping parts of their souls from their rightful places. When angels are invoked, we slowly filter in, taking up only the spaces surrounding the soul, leaving it completely intact. We actually mend a few tears while we're in there."

As if sensing Sam's uncertainty, Michael added, "But that is only done if the vessel's spirit is strong enough to survive the additional presence. So don't worry, Dean is fine."

"Can I ask one more thing?"

Michael tilted Dean's head to the side in silent consent.

"Why did God grant humans forgiveness, but not the fallen? I mean, they were His angels, right?"

"Yes, they were His angels. As His angels we walk a very fine line. Like you we were created, we have free will. And like you, our sins do not go unpunished."

"But what makes us so different? What happens if we fall? If I fall?"

"We were given life, but not souls. That's the difference, Samuel." His smile put Sam at ease.

"Everyone falls. The blessed ones are allowed to get back up." Michael extended a hand to Sam, pulling him to his feet. "The lucky ones have people to help them get back up."

The moment Sam was firmly on his feet, Dean swayed and the brilliant silver faded from his eyes, leaving behind the familiar hazel now clouded with confusion.

"Sammy?"

Dean's eyes rolled back and Sam caught him before he fell.

***

A few hours later, after a pretty colorful display of rousing Dean and explaining what had happened and then stumbling over what was apparently everything they owned in their room, which was promptly followed by a few choice words from Dean, the brothers had begun the arduous task of prepping to get out of dodge and leave the Jupiter Inn and Prattville in the dust.

"Are you sure you're up to leaving?"

Dean looked at his brother as he threw a dirty shirt into his duffle.

"Sam, I'm good. I'm more than good. I guess Mike must've done something to fix me up, man, 'cuz I feel awesome."

"His name is Michael, Dean."

"Well, after he decided to hop his happy angelic ass inside of me, I'm thinking the whole respect thing kinda flew out the window there."

Sam held his hands up, palms facing Dean. "Mike it is then. But, you know, I did kind of invoke him so..."

"Exactly!" Dean flung a hand in Sam's direction as he walked out the door. "You asked for him to come down here, not me. He should have worn you like a suit."

"Whatever, man." Sam grabbed his laptop and followed his brother. "Actually, I take that back. Technically, it is your fault. If you had just taken care of yourself, we wouldn't have been here in the first place."

"And those freak shows would still be sucking lives from people. Not really a deterrent, Sam."

"Do you even know what that means?"

"Who cares? All I know is that if I'd stopped earlier, you wouldn't have found the crazies and more people would be getting ganked." Dean shrugged. "So my head felt like it was going to explode for a few hours, it's not like we get out of most hunts pain free." He dropped his duffle at Sam's feet before heading back into the room.

Sam shook his head in reluctant amusement as he watched his brother cross over the room's threshold.

Some things never changed, and apparently Dean fell into that category.

A few moments passed in silence as the brothers continued packing their stuff in the Impala.

Surveying the massive quantity of crap they lugged around everywhere, Sam didn't quite understand how all of their stuff had ended up out of the car and in their room. The best he could figure was that the Amaros and Gadreel had moved it for whatever reason. He knew that he hadn't brought it in and he was pretty sure that Dean hadn't touched anything since Michael had walked in seemingly empty handed.

His silent ponderings were soon interrupted.

"You know, there was one thing I wanted to ask the old girl before Mike destroyed her."

"What?"

"How long did it take her to heal?"

Sam stalled in arranging their duffle bags to fit in the trunk and gave his brother a quizzical look.

In turn, Dean responded with a smirk. "'Cuz that fall had to hurt."

"Shut up, Dean."

"No, seriously. I mean, maybe it didn't hurt physically, but, dude, there's no way it didn't wound her ego. Or Lucy's for that matter."

"Lucy?" Sam's brow furrowed in confusion before realization took hold. "Now you're referring to Lucifer as Lucy?"

"Hell yeah. He got his ass handed to him in the world's biggest smack down all because he wanted some attention. Sounds like a pansy to me, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes before opening the passenger door and climbing into the Impala. He wasn't going to argue with Dean over something that was so obviously irrelevant. Especially when he wasn't sure if he agreed with him or not. He had to admit, though, his brother was right about one thing.

Falling from that far up? It was bound to leave some bruises.


So, this is the end. Hope you enjoyed it. Hopefully, I'll start a new story soon. C'ya around!