Re-posting chapter two. Don't mind me. I own nothing…
Dean woke feeling groggy, unsure where he was. He had a vague memory of being shot, The Colt's bullets slamming one after another into his chest. It should have killed him, he was almost positive he should be dead. How the hell was he alive?
He lifted his head, taking in his holey shirt. Despite the bullet holes, there was no sign of the wounds that should be scattered across his chest. He was healed, whole; the only other indicator he had been shot was the smeared blood across his clothing and skin.
"What the hell?" he muttered pushing himself into a sitting position. He had to find his brother and Cass, maybe they could shed some light on the situation, and he had to make sure they were okay. Dead wasn't an option when referring to them.
He let his eyes rake across the abandoned Detroit street, heart beating against his ribs when they landed on an unmoving Castiel. "Cass?" he made to get up, made to check on the angel, but froze when he heard a familiar voice say, "He's fine."
He twisted his head around, catching sight of a crumpled figure at the feet of a very familiar person. He let his eyes rise to his brother's familiar hazel-green eyes, trying to comprehend what had happened.
"H…he didn't," Dean said hoarsely putting two and two together and getting a gut wrenching number four. There was no way… Sam wouldn't…
"He did," Lucifer informed the hunter, a small smile on his face. He let his gaze take in his new threads, let a hand run through Sam's shaggy hair. Still smiling, the devil said, "Fits like a glove, your brother."
"Get out of him," Dean growled pushing himself to his feet, despite the sudden tilting of the world.
"He agreed, Dean, which means he's mine now." Lucifer looked down at Nick's lifeless body, blank eyes staring up at the sky, looking almost sincere as he continued, "I've gotta say, I will miss Nick in a way. He was… fun to have while I did.
"Now, Dean, don't fret. I'll take good care of Sammy here. He's my responsibility now. Catch you later." And, with the sound of flapping wings, Sam and Lucifer were gone.
Dean had scrambled forward, hoping to catch hold of his brother's coat or something, stop him from leaving, only to catch air. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Sam wouldn't agree, he couldn't agree. He wouldn't do that to Dean.
The hunter was vaguely aware of someone calling his name, asking if he were okay, but he couldn't answer them. The world was dimming. His legs felt like jelly, his knees buckling against his weight. The last thing he remembered was a pair of hands catching him before everything went black.
He knew he was dreaming the moment he opened his eyes. He was lying on his back on some grass, the blue sky and sun smiling down at him. Despite the dream, he still couldn't help but be angry at the sun. It shouldn't be up, shouldn't be warming everything, not when Sam was being ridden by the devil. It was ridiculous.
"I like the sun, Dean," a voice, one he knew as well as his own or Sam's, said causing Dean to sit up quickly and look around for the speaker. "Behind you." He scrambled to his feet, turning to see a set of brown eyes surveying him, a small smile on his bearded face.
"Hey, Dean," his father said his hands in his pockets.
"Dad," Dean whispered nearly tripping over his own feet to get closer. The amount of times he had dreamt of his dad, most of time in nightmares, he had never felt as happy to see him as he did right now. He threw his arms around his father's neck, embracing him with as much feeling as he could muster despite the situation. After a few seconds of one sided hugging, John not even attempting to return the small gesture, Dean pulled back and eyed his father cautiously.
"Dad what…" his father's brown eyes flashed white, making Dean back up several paces.
"Michael," he choked out, still backing away.
"Dean, I had to talk to you somehow," Michael replied as his eyes returned to brown.
"By using my dad, again," Dean snapped still trying to back up. He found himself hitting something solid, unable to move any further. What the hell, he thought glancing back to see a wall where an open field used to be. He let his eyes flick back to Michael, realizing they were now standing in a small, windowless room, a lone light bulb shining above their heads.
"Never mind that, now. We have to talk, Dean." It sounded so much like his dad's 'listen-to-me-while-I'm-talking-to-you' voice, that Dean automatically snapped to attention.
"What about," he said in a whisper.
"Sam said 'yes,'" Michael pointed out the obvious, pulling his right hand from his pocket and running it through John's graying hair.
"Yeah, I know."
"What are you going to do about it?"
"Well first, keep you out of me. Second, find a way to kill Lucifer without hurting Sam. And third…" he really didn't have a third option, opting to let his voice trail off instead.
"Sam is gone, Dean. The moment he said 'yes,' the moment he allowed Lucifer to have his true vessel, he signed his soul over to Satan… literally."
"You're lying," Dean snarled clenching his fists at his sides.
"It was always going to come down to this Dean…"
"Shut up," Dean snapped turning his back on Michael. There had to be a way for him to wake up, for him to escape the angel who so desperately needed him. The angel he had been eluding for a year.
"Dean," Michael said softly, Dean felt a hand touch his shoulder. He shook it off, stepping just out of Michael's reach.
"No," he said quietly. He wasn't about to let an angel take him over, just so he could kill his brother. He couldn't do it when John asked him three years ago, he wouldn't do it now. He couldn't.
"Do you think I want to kill my little brother," Michael asked curiously, a trace of anger coating his words.
"He's the devil, of course you do," Dean said shoving his hands in his pocket.
"Despite his faults, Lucifer is my brother. He will always be my brother. You know what it's like, always having a soft spot for family. But I can't have him wreaking havoc on our father's creations. Humans have faults, too, I see that, but they don't deserve to be massively slaughtered. And by not saying 'yes' you're…"
"You're trying to guilt me," Dean spat laughing humorlessly. "Wow, you must be desperate."
"Please, Dean," Michael said softly, "for humanity. And, hey, maybe if I'm feeling generous I'll bring Sam back."
"I thought you said Sam was gone," Dean said slowly, wishing the angel would make up his mind.
"Yes, but I never said I couldn't bring him back," Michael replied with a shrug.
Dean was torn. As much as he didn't want to see his brother dead, he didn't want to be responsible for the billions of people about to die at Lucifer's hand. He didn't think he could live with the guilt all their deaths would cause. But he was damn sure he couldn't live with Sam's death, either. He had already proven that when he willing went to Hell for the kid.
"Can you bring him back, if he's k…k…?" Dean whispered, not able to say the final word, still talking to the wall.
"It depends. Do I get your full cooperation? Or am I just grasping at straws here?" Michael fell silent, waiting for Dean's answer. There was a chance Michael could lose, that Lucifer could be the victor of this battle.
"There is," the archangel muttered sounding neither doubtful nor certain. "So, Dean, what do you say?"
Dean pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, his options about as craptastic as they could get. Either he said 'NO' and watched as his brother destroyed the world with Lucifer at the wheel. Or he said 'YES' and ended up killing his brother only to have Michael be unable to bring Sam back, or decide Sam just wasn't worth bringing back, leaving him dead. He had been screwed over by enough angels in his lifetime to be wary of either decision.
"I don't go back on my word, Dean. I promise, if you say 'yes' and if we win, I will do everything in my power to bring Sam back, Lucifer free…"
They were quiet for a few more seconds, Dean feeling the angel's eyes boring into him. Taking a deep breath, coming to a decision, he turned to meet Michael's eyes-his father's eyes-and felt the word slip out through numb lips. "Yes."
Cass had been sitting in a chair, waiting for Dean to wake up. Since being cut off from the other angels, he hadn't been able to enter other people's minds. He so wanted to know what was keeping Dean trapped in his own mind, know what was going on.
Squeaking wheels caught his attention, his head turning to see Bobby stop next to him. "He's still out?" the older hunter asked, letting his hands rest on his chair's wheels.
"Yes, and I don't know…" Cass froze when Dean's eyes snapped open. The only problem, he wasn't Dean anymore.
"Michael," Castiel whispered standing so fast he knocked his chair over.
"I'm coming for you, Brother," was the only thing the archangel said before he stood and disappeared, the sound of flapping wings the only indication he left.
"Crap," Bobby whispered kneading his forehead.
"You can say that, again," Cass replied feeling a gush of sorrow settle into his stomach and around his heart. He couldn't believe they said 'yes,' both of them. His eyes stung something he wasn't used to and couldn't quite explain.
"Cass, are you okay," Bobby asked voice full of concern, worry, anger, shock… so many emotions that Castiel could barely identify them all.
"I…I have to go," Cass replied and left, disappearing and leaving the hunter alone. He couldn't handle this, he just couldn't. It was like being abandoned by his family, again. They had abandoned him…
Against his will, he landed at a park. He fell to his knees, water spilling from his blue eyes. He couldn't control the flood, his shoulders wracking with sobs with every new wave. He knew he should get up, knew he should try and do something, but he couldn't. He just couldn't… Falling to his side, he curled in on himself. For the first time in his life, Castiel had given up…