SPNFanFic: a song of sixpence (Dean, Michael)
a song of sixpence;
Dean, Michael (young John vessel);
U-Rated, 801words;
Set during 5.13 “The Song Remains the Same”;
Dean wants to make a deal with Michael.
Dean swallows hard but meets Michael’s stare with a determination he does not feel. He takes a moment to process the words the Archangel has spoken and feels a fluttering in his stomach as he considers, just for a heartbeat, what they could mean for him and the whole damn apocalypse.
“You’d leave me like I am now? Exactly like this?” Dean asks. He tells himself that his voice does not tremble on the words even as he bites at the insides of his mouth to still his babbling questions.
“Exactly as you are,” Michael promises with a half-smile, as if he’s telling Dean something he should already know. “Though if you’d like any changes made…?” He trails off, his eyes pointedly focussing upon his shoulder and the handprint sitting like a brand upon the flesh beneath his clothing.
Dean hesitates. “No. Exactly like this.” He isn’t sure why. He hates the damn thing and what it means, but at the same time he thinks he’d rather not have Michael doing anything more than puppeteering him. Michael smiles again, and this time it’s like they’re sharing secrets. It makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise up and he has to resist the urge to shift against the sensation.
“What about Sam?” He says instead.
“What about Sam?” Michael repeats, his infliction on the words turning the question back on Dean.
“Can he be left out of this?” Dean asks, though it comes out sounding more like a demand than anything.
Michael’s eyes narrow almost dangerously, “You want me to kill Lucifer whilst he is without his true vessel?”
Dean bristles, because yeah that’s exactly what he was gunning for. He finds the last reserves of his cocky self-assuredness and hits back with a line that get’s Michael smiling again, a slow stretch of the lips pulling back from his teeth: “I'd love if you could kill him without wearing me either, if you could maybe swing that instead?”
Dean feels his stomach churn at the smile.
“No can do, Dean.” Michael sees his discomfort, he’s sure, because the Archangel holds the smile for a long moment, his mouth a grin even as he speaks, “I will not fight my brother whilst he is at a disadvantage.”
Dean tenses. Wants to hit back in anger at how stupid that sounds. You don’t give your enemy an advantage they could use to get back at you. There are words on the tip of his tongue but they fizzle out. He doesn’t so much realise and remind himself of the fact that Michael and Lucifer are brothers in this and, though it’d kill him to admit it, he’d do the same for Sammy.
“Can you bring Sam back? Once you've won, can you…”
Michael shakes his head, stops, the pause brining a look of deliberation to his face before he smiles suddenly, bright and carefree and Dean is strongly reminded of the smile being the same one his dad wore when something was going exactly the way he wanted it to. He shudders at the thought.
“Your faith in me is touching,” Michael says, pauses as if with deliberation. “I will bring your brother back, as once was done for you. From nothing, life shall be returned. He will be as he is now, but he must consent to being Lucifer's vessel.”
Dean sucks in a breath, holds it. He feels faint and sick and he knows he shouldn't even be considering Michael's words but he just wants this to be over. All of it. The whole damn thing.
“So…” he releases the word with a sharp exhale of air. “If I say yes you to, and Sam says yes to Lucifer, you will return us both exactly as we are once you're finished with us? No ties, no hidden agendas, no small print, right?”
“Yes,” Michael cocks his head. He looks pleased, all cat-got-the-canary and Dean's really beginning to feel like the fucken canary right now.
“I'll need to speak to Sam about this,” He breathes. “And then… what do I do then?”
“And then you say yes.” Michael says as though it’s the most obvious answer in the world.
“What… just say the word? Don’t you need to be there?”
“Call for me, I will come to you.” Michael says, “You must understand, like every deal made there must also be a 'signing' of contract.”
Dean blinks, processes, and then “…are you going to kiss me?” He swallows bile at the thought and prays within the confines of his mind that Michael has the decency to wear someone other than his dad.
“I take a bit more work than that, Dean.” Michael says, reaching up to press his fingers to Dean's brow before the words have even sunk in.
Fin.
Written for Caspe-Wri-Mo 2010.