Unexpected Destinies Chapter 76
Title: Unexpected Destinies
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: up to and including Exile on Main St., AU from the end of season 5
Warnings: AU, slash
Word Count: 2,914
Summary: Dean and Michael deal with the consequences of being attacked.
PAST
Vaguely Dean was aware of Lucifer's triumphant expression down in the cage even as the archangel dripped with the libation, but it vanished as Michael shifted and pain shot through them once more. He let out a wordless little noise of agony as he felt his meatsuit move around the blade within him, tearing more in the process and then they were looking into the harshly beautiful face of a young woman with fire, malice and hatred in her eyes.
"Did you think it would be that easy, Brother?" she demanded in heavily accented Enochian.
"Simiel," Michael breathed mentally, voice thick with pain.
Dean felt the shock of recognition shoot through him but before he could do or say anything, there was a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and then tearing agony as the blade was ripped from inside of them. Distantly, he heard the clash of metal on metal, but all of his attention was on the searing pain and fact that they were falling towards the portal. Lucifer's expression was exuberant now as he clearly awaited their fall into his cage. Terror was just starting to shoot through him as well when their forward momentum was abruptly, and painfully, halted.
"Michael," Castiel began, voice urgent as he pulled them back. "Dean. Michael, is Dean still there? Is he hurt?"
The pain vanished as unexpectedly as it had arrived and it would have sent Dean stumbling if he still had control of his meatsuit. What the hell? The thought was partially derailed by the raw anguish and molten fury he saw mixing in his lover's eyes and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort Castiel, to reassure him that everything would be okay even if he had absolutely no way of knowing that. If he'd been human, the wound would have been almost instantly fatal, but as it was he was an angel and therefore still clinging to life though even he knew how bad of a wound it still was for them.
Their view suddenly shifted as Michael looked past Castiel towards where Raphael and Simiel were fighting. Dean nearly cried out, wanting to see more of his lover but found himself captivated by the sight of a woman nearly half Raphael's size forcing the archangel back on the defensive. Michael looked at Castiel again only to indicate the other two with his eyes, clearly wanting his younger brother to go help Raphael. Dean himself was torn, he could plainly see that Raphael needed the help but just the memory of the agony made him want to cling to his lover as he knew that the wound wouldn't go away as easily as the pain had.
"Michael-" Castiel began.
"Go!" Michael ordered and it took Dean a moment to figure out that the archangel had used a mental link to his angel.
With another brief second's hesitation, Castiel went, flying into the fight, his own sword raised. The brief glimpse that Dean caught of his lover's expression was fierce and terrifying and he knew that Castiel was about to unleash all of the fury he'd seen in those blue eyes earlier onto Simiel with a vengeance.
"Michael?" Dean questioned softly.
"We need to complete the Rite."
"It's not been ruined?"
"A cry does not count as part of these types of incantations and thus nothing has been ruined yet."
Well, that at least explained why the archangel had spoken to Castiel mentally instead of physically, but Dean was still left with more questions then he had answers to. The slow, careful way that Michael was moving spoke volumes for the pain he was still in and was a clear indication that the wound had not yet been healed. Although he desperately wanted to know why, it wasn't their most pressing issue at the moment. If Michael had been able to do so, then he was sure that the archangel would have done it already. No, what was more concerning was the fact that they were practically wobbling as they knelt at the edge of the portal once more. He didn't need to be a genius to know that this couldn't end well.
"What did you do, Michael?" Dean demanded. "Why can't I feel anything?"
"I have cut you off from the pain. There is no need for you to suffer."
Although Dean appreciated the sentiment on more then one level- how often had people simply told him to suck it up in the past instead of trying to help?- he wasn't stupid and knew that the effort had to be costing Michael. Effort that they could ill afford at the moment.
"Stop it."
"Little One?"
"I'm a big boy, Mike, I can handle it. Thirty years in Hell as Alastair's personal plaything, remember?"
"Dean-"
"Damnit, Michael, focus your energy where it's really needed!"
For half a second, Dean thought that the archangel would fight him on it, but then he felt foreign resignation ripple through him.
"Fine," Michael replied. "Are you ready for it?"
"No, but that doesn't matter. Do it."
When the pain hit him once more, it almost seemed worse then before, but this time Dean managed to contain his cries. At least the first time he hadn't been expecting it and thus hadn't been braced for it, which inevitably made it worse every single time. He was no stranger to pain though and instead he closed his mental eyes for a moment and simply breathed through the agony for a few seconds before firmly shoving it aside. He could already feel that it had helped Michael to not block it from him and he sent a silent reassurance that he was okay so the archangel would continue the Rite.
It took Michael a few moments to pull himself together once more and Dean took that time to let himself sink as far back into the mindset of the Rite as best he could remember it. He knew that he'd never be able to reach the exact state he'd been in on his own, but he focused his thoughts on what he'd been thinking and hoped like hell that it would be enough. There was a bad moment just as the archangel was about to start chanting once more when they discovered that there was blood in their mouth and lungs that had to be coughed out, but they both did their best to ignore it and what it meant. When Michael finally did start the incantation up again, he felt the same hypnotic pull as before, drawing him closer to the archangel's Grace. The agony became far more acute the closer he and Michael merged, but he forced himself to take it and to let his thoughts fill with exactly why he didn't want Lucifer roaming free with a vessel. It seemed to be working and the Devil's ever increasing agitation below them definitely helped to urge him on.
Distantly the thought that some good could come from his years spent on the rack and Alastair's incessant torture spurred Dean on and he braced himself as he could feel something stirring around them. It bogged the very air down, making it heavy, thick and static in a way he recognized from Dark Arts spells, but then he realized that that was pretty much the extent of his exposure to magic and thus it could be a feature of all spells, whether Light or Dark, and he wouldn't really know, so he just went with it. Michael would know if things were going wrong and since the archangel simply continued chanting, he figured that it had to be okay.
There were sounds of rage behind them now and Dean realized with a start that the fight between the other three archangels had moved around behind them and a brief fissure of fear shot through him. That was how their trouble had begun, with Simiel behind them, but this was different. He knew it and tried to force the fear from his mind. Simiel must have appeared far too close to them for Castiel and Raphael to stop her from hurting them. Now that they knew she was there, that wouldn't happen again. He knew that for a fact as far as his lover was concerned and he could feel Michael's certainty on the issue regarding Raphael.
The air was all but cracking with lightning by the time the spell reached its crescendo and Michael uttered the final words of the incantation, still a hopeless mix of Enochian and that other strange language. For one brief, horrible second, nothing happened before Light and pain seemed to fairly explode around them. He could feel the lightning and power ripping at them, all but tearing their wound open wider and Dean clung desperately to Michael's Grace as he felt it tugging at him. It took him a few seconds to realize that it wasn't trying to drag him away but was rather drawing strength and something else that he didn't recognize from his soul, feeding from it but in a way that didn't make him feel afraid it was going to consume him. Well, at least not once he'd calmed down from the initial spike of panic.
Christ but he hated all this soul stuff. It was so unbelievably overwhelming and complicated that he was more then ready to not ever have to deal with it again. Briefly Dean wished for back when he hadn't even really believed in the existence of souls. Those had been much simpler times.
The power, Light and lightning vanished as quickly as they'd arrived and Dean would have been at a loss as to what had happened if Michael hadn't been looking down into the cage. Lucifer was back to screaming in impotent rage as the lightning flashed all around him, seeming to ignite the libation that still covered him and engulfing him in purple flame. His instinctive wince proved to be in vain as it became immediately obvious that this was not a normal fire as it failed to actually ignite Lucifer's Grace, though it was clearly doing something. Something painful and he took far too much pleasure from that.
"Dean," Michael admonished as they sagged at the edge of the portal.
"What?" Dean demanded defensively. "He deserved it."
There was another clash of metal on metal behind them, or at least it sounded similar enough for that to be the first thing to come to mind for Dean, and fear of a different kind shot through him, completely obliterating the pain.
"Cas!"
Before Michael could even begin to move them, and Dean did feel his intention to do precisely that, there was the flutter of wings followed by an angry exclamation from Raphael. Then there was another flutter of wings and there were hands on them and he relaxed instantly, recognizing his lover's touch even before Michael realized it was his brother and not his sister.
"Michael?" Castiel questioned.
Dean instantly hated the fearful, almost desperate, quality to his lover's voice and wanted nothing more then to be able to reach out and soothe it away, but he couldn't and it chafed. His soul moved restlessly within the gentle embrace of Michael's Grace and he knew on some level that he was probably not helping matters, but he couldn't help it, not when his angel so obviously needed him. It brought out all the worst aspects of being a conscious vessel and those had been from before they'd been injured.
"I am sorry, Little One," Michael whispered.
"So not your fault," Dean replied a little guiltily, but still he couldn't reign himself in completely.
"Dean is still here, Brother," Michael said aloud, though his voice was soft and weak.
It brought back the memory of earlier and Dean could still feel blood running down the inside of his lungs where it had no right being. The combined effort of the earlier chanting and the talking now prompted another round of coughing and he felt the wet rattle of blood coming up once more. Castiel's face grew more alarmed as he caught sight of it but before he could do anything, Raphael appeared by their side, looking more concerned and just all around more emotional than he'd ever seen the archangel appear. Without a word, Raphael reached out and place a hand on their chest, right over the wound and suddenly warmth started to flow through them, lessening the pain immediately.
The relief caused Dean to sag a little and he managed to stop his incessant movements as he saw Castiel relax a bit as well. It wasn't the instant healing that he'd experienced or witnessed at the hands of angels before, but it was enough to make a significant difference and that allowed him to start focusing his attention on other things. After all, he'd become very good at tuning out pain in Hell.
"Why can't you just heal us, Mike?"
"Because Simiel used her archangel blade which wounds our very Grace. It is one of the few weapons that can truly damage us, if it does not kill us that is."
"Great."
At least they had a healer on their side. The thought forced Dean to look at Raphael again who now had his eyes closed in concentration as he worked. He supposed that he'd owe the archangel after this and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. Though, if he were honest with himself, the fact that it hadn't even crossed his mind that Raphael might be responsible for the attack on them before he'd caught sight of Simiel pretty much proved that he'd come to accept that the archangel was on their side subconsciously, now he just had to catch up on a conscious level and that just sucked as it meant being nicer to the bastard.
Michael huffed a pained laugh, but Dean thought it was worth it to feel his Grace ripple around him, even if he was slightly pissed at having his thoughts read. "Dude, not cool!"
"I can hardly control myself just now, Little One."
"Excuses."
"What is it?" Castiel demanded, confused.
"Your mate is amusing," Michael replied. "So very human."
"That's 'cause I am human," Dean snarked, giving the Grace closest to him a good poke though he doubted it was up to his usual standards.
Castiel's lips twitched slightly and it cheered Dean to see it. Given the results, he found that he was already forgiving Michael his little trespass.
"How magnanimous of you."
"Can it, Mikey."
"Speaking of human," Castiel said, his hand running down their body towards the wound but seeming unable to bring himself to actually touch it. "Did you block his pain?"
Michael sighed and Dean couldn't help but feel a ripple of pride at how human the archangel already was at times and he knew that it was entirely due to his influence.
"I tried," Michael stated.
The words seemed to be all Castiel needed to figure out what had happened as his face took on a resigned look. "Stupid human pride."
"Hey!" Dean protested, unheard by his lover.
"He is always trying to pretend that he can take it, not understanding that he doesn't have to."
"It did make it easier for me to complete the Rite of Contressa," Michael admitted. " I might not have been able to do so while focusing on something else."
"And now?"
"Don't you even think about it, Michael!" Dean hissed. "We're in this together and it's my body."
Though Dean didn't feel the expression on his meatsuit's face change, the archangel must have conveyed his response to Castiel somehow as his lover's expression turned to one of resignation. It wasn't that he wanted to feel the pain, but rather that he didn't like being so completely cut off from an integral part of himself. Yes, he logically knew that his meatsuit was almost more of a temporary housing for his soul- how could he not have learned that by now?- but it still meant far more then that to him at the moment. It was his ticket to life on Earth and all that he'd known for the happier portion of his life even if it was no longer the longer portion of it.
"How grave is it, Raphael?" Castiel questioned.
"Quite severe, though I have stabilized them enough to return to the motel."
"Can we separate them there?"
"Not immediately, no. Even if Michael were strong enough to change vessels, they are connected far deeper then I have ever seen before, almost fused in places," Raphael replied with a frown.
"The Rite," Michael forced out and Dean felt how alien the sensation of being so weak was to the archangel. "It brought us closer together."
"Can you still separate?"
"Yes, but it will be harder than before."
"We should go, I shall carry you," Castiel stated, already shifting them as gently as possible so he could lift them.
It never failed to amaze Dean how strong his lover was, though this time he was distracted by the feeling of Michael's wings brushing against Castiel as he was so used to them just going through everything.
"Portal," Michael reminded them.
Raphael turned towards the cage and Dean heard him start to say something, but all of his attention was focused on how Castiel cradled them close before flying back to his motel room.
A.N.: You guys will not believe how close you came to getting an absolutely crap chapter here. Thank God I finally gave in yesterday and crawled into bed ridiculously early as when I reread it today, I just had to trash the whole damn thing. I don't think I'd actually have dared show my face 'round here again if I'd actually ended up posting that!
Anyway, moving on, how many of you expected me to jump to a present chapter today? I know several of you were definitely thinking it. But what can I say? I like to keep people guessing on some level. And, wow, can I just say that I was quite shocked at how many of you were ready to blame poor, innocent Raphael for stabbing Dean and Michael at the end of the last chapter? :)
Chapter 77
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: up to and including Exile on Main St., AU from the end of season 5
Warnings: AU, slash
Word Count: 2,914
Summary: Dean and Michael deal with the consequences of being attacked.
PAST
Vaguely Dean was aware of Lucifer's triumphant expression down in the cage even as the archangel dripped with the libation, but it vanished as Michael shifted and pain shot through them once more. He let out a wordless little noise of agony as he felt his meatsuit move around the blade within him, tearing more in the process and then they were looking into the harshly beautiful face of a young woman with fire, malice and hatred in her eyes.
"Did you think it would be that easy, Brother?" she demanded in heavily accented Enochian.
"Simiel," Michael breathed mentally, voice thick with pain.
Dean felt the shock of recognition shoot through him but before he could do or say anything, there was a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and then tearing agony as the blade was ripped from inside of them. Distantly, he heard the clash of metal on metal, but all of his attention was on the searing pain and fact that they were falling towards the portal. Lucifer's expression was exuberant now as he clearly awaited their fall into his cage. Terror was just starting to shoot through him as well when their forward momentum was abruptly, and painfully, halted.
"Michael," Castiel began, voice urgent as he pulled them back. "Dean. Michael, is Dean still there? Is he hurt?"
The pain vanished as unexpectedly as it had arrived and it would have sent Dean stumbling if he still had control of his meatsuit. What the hell? The thought was partially derailed by the raw anguish and molten fury he saw mixing in his lover's eyes and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort Castiel, to reassure him that everything would be okay even if he had absolutely no way of knowing that. If he'd been human, the wound would have been almost instantly fatal, but as it was he was an angel and therefore still clinging to life though even he knew how bad of a wound it still was for them.
Their view suddenly shifted as Michael looked past Castiel towards where Raphael and Simiel were fighting. Dean nearly cried out, wanting to see more of his lover but found himself captivated by the sight of a woman nearly half Raphael's size forcing the archangel back on the defensive. Michael looked at Castiel again only to indicate the other two with his eyes, clearly wanting his younger brother to go help Raphael. Dean himself was torn, he could plainly see that Raphael needed the help but just the memory of the agony made him want to cling to his lover as he knew that the wound wouldn't go away as easily as the pain had.
"Michael-" Castiel began.
"Go!" Michael ordered and it took Dean a moment to figure out that the archangel had used a mental link to his angel.
With another brief second's hesitation, Castiel went, flying into the fight, his own sword raised. The brief glimpse that Dean caught of his lover's expression was fierce and terrifying and he knew that Castiel was about to unleash all of the fury he'd seen in those blue eyes earlier onto Simiel with a vengeance.
"Michael?" Dean questioned softly.
"We need to complete the Rite."
"It's not been ruined?"
"A cry does not count as part of these types of incantations and thus nothing has been ruined yet."
Well, that at least explained why the archangel had spoken to Castiel mentally instead of physically, but Dean was still left with more questions then he had answers to. The slow, careful way that Michael was moving spoke volumes for the pain he was still in and was a clear indication that the wound had not yet been healed. Although he desperately wanted to know why, it wasn't their most pressing issue at the moment. If Michael had been able to do so, then he was sure that the archangel would have done it already. No, what was more concerning was the fact that they were practically wobbling as they knelt at the edge of the portal once more. He didn't need to be a genius to know that this couldn't end well.
"What did you do, Michael?" Dean demanded. "Why can't I feel anything?"
"I have cut you off from the pain. There is no need for you to suffer."
Although Dean appreciated the sentiment on more then one level- how often had people simply told him to suck it up in the past instead of trying to help?- he wasn't stupid and knew that the effort had to be costing Michael. Effort that they could ill afford at the moment.
"Stop it."
"Little One?"
"I'm a big boy, Mike, I can handle it. Thirty years in Hell as Alastair's personal plaything, remember?"
"Dean-"
"Damnit, Michael, focus your energy where it's really needed!"
For half a second, Dean thought that the archangel would fight him on it, but then he felt foreign resignation ripple through him.
"Fine," Michael replied. "Are you ready for it?"
"No, but that doesn't matter. Do it."
When the pain hit him once more, it almost seemed worse then before, but this time Dean managed to contain his cries. At least the first time he hadn't been expecting it and thus hadn't been braced for it, which inevitably made it worse every single time. He was no stranger to pain though and instead he closed his mental eyes for a moment and simply breathed through the agony for a few seconds before firmly shoving it aside. He could already feel that it had helped Michael to not block it from him and he sent a silent reassurance that he was okay so the archangel would continue the Rite.
It took Michael a few moments to pull himself together once more and Dean took that time to let himself sink as far back into the mindset of the Rite as best he could remember it. He knew that he'd never be able to reach the exact state he'd been in on his own, but he focused his thoughts on what he'd been thinking and hoped like hell that it would be enough. There was a bad moment just as the archangel was about to start chanting once more when they discovered that there was blood in their mouth and lungs that had to be coughed out, but they both did their best to ignore it and what it meant. When Michael finally did start the incantation up again, he felt the same hypnotic pull as before, drawing him closer to the archangel's Grace. The agony became far more acute the closer he and Michael merged, but he forced himself to take it and to let his thoughts fill with exactly why he didn't want Lucifer roaming free with a vessel. It seemed to be working and the Devil's ever increasing agitation below them definitely helped to urge him on.
Distantly the thought that some good could come from his years spent on the rack and Alastair's incessant torture spurred Dean on and he braced himself as he could feel something stirring around them. It bogged the very air down, making it heavy, thick and static in a way he recognized from Dark Arts spells, but then he realized that that was pretty much the extent of his exposure to magic and thus it could be a feature of all spells, whether Light or Dark, and he wouldn't really know, so he just went with it. Michael would know if things were going wrong and since the archangel simply continued chanting, he figured that it had to be okay.
There were sounds of rage behind them now and Dean realized with a start that the fight between the other three archangels had moved around behind them and a brief fissure of fear shot through him. That was how their trouble had begun, with Simiel behind them, but this was different. He knew it and tried to force the fear from his mind. Simiel must have appeared far too close to them for Castiel and Raphael to stop her from hurting them. Now that they knew she was there, that wouldn't happen again. He knew that for a fact as far as his lover was concerned and he could feel Michael's certainty on the issue regarding Raphael.
The air was all but cracking with lightning by the time the spell reached its crescendo and Michael uttered the final words of the incantation, still a hopeless mix of Enochian and that other strange language. For one brief, horrible second, nothing happened before Light and pain seemed to fairly explode around them. He could feel the lightning and power ripping at them, all but tearing their wound open wider and Dean clung desperately to Michael's Grace as he felt it tugging at him. It took him a few seconds to realize that it wasn't trying to drag him away but was rather drawing strength and something else that he didn't recognize from his soul, feeding from it but in a way that didn't make him feel afraid it was going to consume him. Well, at least not once he'd calmed down from the initial spike of panic.
Christ but he hated all this soul stuff. It was so unbelievably overwhelming and complicated that he was more then ready to not ever have to deal with it again. Briefly Dean wished for back when he hadn't even really believed in the existence of souls. Those had been much simpler times.
The power, Light and lightning vanished as quickly as they'd arrived and Dean would have been at a loss as to what had happened if Michael hadn't been looking down into the cage. Lucifer was back to screaming in impotent rage as the lightning flashed all around him, seeming to ignite the libation that still covered him and engulfing him in purple flame. His instinctive wince proved to be in vain as it became immediately obvious that this was not a normal fire as it failed to actually ignite Lucifer's Grace, though it was clearly doing something. Something painful and he took far too much pleasure from that.
"Dean," Michael admonished as they sagged at the edge of the portal.
"What?" Dean demanded defensively. "He deserved it."
There was another clash of metal on metal behind them, or at least it sounded similar enough for that to be the first thing to come to mind for Dean, and fear of a different kind shot through him, completely obliterating the pain.
"Cas!"
Before Michael could even begin to move them, and Dean did feel his intention to do precisely that, there was the flutter of wings followed by an angry exclamation from Raphael. Then there was another flutter of wings and there were hands on them and he relaxed instantly, recognizing his lover's touch even before Michael realized it was his brother and not his sister.
"Michael?" Castiel questioned.
Dean instantly hated the fearful, almost desperate, quality to his lover's voice and wanted nothing more then to be able to reach out and soothe it away, but he couldn't and it chafed. His soul moved restlessly within the gentle embrace of Michael's Grace and he knew on some level that he was probably not helping matters, but he couldn't help it, not when his angel so obviously needed him. It brought out all the worst aspects of being a conscious vessel and those had been from before they'd been injured.
"I am sorry, Little One," Michael whispered.
"So not your fault," Dean replied a little guiltily, but still he couldn't reign himself in completely.
"Dean is still here, Brother," Michael said aloud, though his voice was soft and weak.
It brought back the memory of earlier and Dean could still feel blood running down the inside of his lungs where it had no right being. The combined effort of the earlier chanting and the talking now prompted another round of coughing and he felt the wet rattle of blood coming up once more. Castiel's face grew more alarmed as he caught sight of it but before he could do anything, Raphael appeared by their side, looking more concerned and just all around more emotional than he'd ever seen the archangel appear. Without a word, Raphael reached out and place a hand on their chest, right over the wound and suddenly warmth started to flow through them, lessening the pain immediately.
The relief caused Dean to sag a little and he managed to stop his incessant movements as he saw Castiel relax a bit as well. It wasn't the instant healing that he'd experienced or witnessed at the hands of angels before, but it was enough to make a significant difference and that allowed him to start focusing his attention on other things. After all, he'd become very good at tuning out pain in Hell.
"Why can't you just heal us, Mike?"
"Because Simiel used her archangel blade which wounds our very Grace. It is one of the few weapons that can truly damage us, if it does not kill us that is."
"Great."
At least they had a healer on their side. The thought forced Dean to look at Raphael again who now had his eyes closed in concentration as he worked. He supposed that he'd owe the archangel after this and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. Though, if he were honest with himself, the fact that it hadn't even crossed his mind that Raphael might be responsible for the attack on them before he'd caught sight of Simiel pretty much proved that he'd come to accept that the archangel was on their side subconsciously, now he just had to catch up on a conscious level and that just sucked as it meant being nicer to the bastard.
Michael huffed a pained laugh, but Dean thought it was worth it to feel his Grace ripple around him, even if he was slightly pissed at having his thoughts read. "Dude, not cool!"
"I can hardly control myself just now, Little One."
"Excuses."
"What is it?" Castiel demanded, confused.
"Your mate is amusing," Michael replied. "So very human."
"That's 'cause I am human," Dean snarked, giving the Grace closest to him a good poke though he doubted it was up to his usual standards.
Castiel's lips twitched slightly and it cheered Dean to see it. Given the results, he found that he was already forgiving Michael his little trespass.
"How magnanimous of you."
"Can it, Mikey."
"Speaking of human," Castiel said, his hand running down their body towards the wound but seeming unable to bring himself to actually touch it. "Did you block his pain?"
Michael sighed and Dean couldn't help but feel a ripple of pride at how human the archangel already was at times and he knew that it was entirely due to his influence.
"I tried," Michael stated.
The words seemed to be all Castiel needed to figure out what had happened as his face took on a resigned look. "Stupid human pride."
"Hey!" Dean protested, unheard by his lover.
"He is always trying to pretend that he can take it, not understanding that he doesn't have to."
"It did make it easier for me to complete the Rite of Contressa," Michael admitted. " I might not have been able to do so while focusing on something else."
"And now?"
"Don't you even think about it, Michael!" Dean hissed. "We're in this together and it's my body."
Though Dean didn't feel the expression on his meatsuit's face change, the archangel must have conveyed his response to Castiel somehow as his lover's expression turned to one of resignation. It wasn't that he wanted to feel the pain, but rather that he didn't like being so completely cut off from an integral part of himself. Yes, he logically knew that his meatsuit was almost more of a temporary housing for his soul- how could he not have learned that by now?- but it still meant far more then that to him at the moment. It was his ticket to life on Earth and all that he'd known for the happier portion of his life even if it was no longer the longer portion of it.
"How grave is it, Raphael?" Castiel questioned.
"Quite severe, though I have stabilized them enough to return to the motel."
"Can we separate them there?"
"Not immediately, no. Even if Michael were strong enough to change vessels, they are connected far deeper then I have ever seen before, almost fused in places," Raphael replied with a frown.
"The Rite," Michael forced out and Dean felt how alien the sensation of being so weak was to the archangel. "It brought us closer together."
"Can you still separate?"
"Yes, but it will be harder than before."
"We should go, I shall carry you," Castiel stated, already shifting them as gently as possible so he could lift them.
It never failed to amaze Dean how strong his lover was, though this time he was distracted by the feeling of Michael's wings brushing against Castiel as he was so used to them just going through everything.
"Portal," Michael reminded them.
Raphael turned towards the cage and Dean heard him start to say something, but all of his attention was focused on how Castiel cradled them close before flying back to his motel room.
A.N.: You guys will not believe how close you came to getting an absolutely crap chapter here. Thank God I finally gave in yesterday and crawled into bed ridiculously early as when I reread it today, I just had to trash the whole damn thing. I don't think I'd actually have dared show my face 'round here again if I'd actually ended up posting that!
Anyway, moving on, how many of you expected me to jump to a present chapter today? I know several of you were definitely thinking it. But what can I say? I like to keep people guessing on some level. And, wow, can I just say that I was quite shocked at how many of you were ready to blame poor, innocent Raphael for stabbing Dean and Michael at the end of the last chapter? :)
Chapter 77