Archive of Our Own

“What just happened?” Disbelief had Dean choking on the words, his voice rasping as if he'd been screaming for hours. Perhaps he had been.

“Dean, we need to leave.” Castiel started for the door, made only three steps before he realized that Dean was rooted to the spot, locked in place and staring at the space that had only moments earlier been occupied by Lucifer… and Gabriel. “Dean!”

“No, what… just. Happened?” Dean's face turned until Castiel was in his eye line, and then the utter shock was melting away, releasing the white hot fury that had been locked away beneath its surface. “Did that sonuvabitch just double-cross us?!?”

“Don't ask questions to which the answer is obvious,” Castiel reproved instantly, reaching for Dean's wrist. Dean yanked his hand away from Castiel's grasp and stepped back, causing Castiel's face to narrow with anger. “Dean, we don't have time for this! Lucifer had scores of demons on this block and the only reason they didn't attack to kill was because he'd given orders that Sam couldn't be harmed. We have to go. Now.”

“I'm gonna tear him apart,” Dean vowed, his tone low and deadly and leaving no doubt as to the cold depths of his rage. “When I get my hands on that little-”

“Dean, get down!”

It caught Dean's attention just in time to duck and drop into a roll across the littered floor, avoiding the slash of an athame from one of the demons that blinked in and the swing of another's bat for his kneecap. He spun as he came up and threw the demon-killing knife, taking down one as Castiel drove his fist into the other's gut and then grabbed its head between his hands, burning it out of its vessel with a final dreadful shriek. “Nice moves.”

“There are too many to fight our way out,” Castiel replied practically. He plucked the knife from the dead demon's chest as he strode to Dean's side, his free fist wrapping angrily into his lover's shirt-front before taking flight to the Impala.

They appeared beside the car to find Bobby nearly swarmed, using a shotgun as a melee weapon. Rock salt was scattered across the alley floor like tiny shards of glass, and the elder hunter was bleeding from a wound to his temple. “Dean?”

Dean was already moving, the knife in his hands as he caught the cluster of demons by surprise. Loose-limbed and deadly, he cut a path to Bobby's side, knocking the sawed-off that was propping open the weapon case out of position in the same motion that buried the dagger into the gut of a demon trying to catch him from behind. The trunk slammed down a heartbeat later, catching one demon's hand and leaving a bloody stub where there had once been fingers.

By the time Castiel shouted for them to close their eyes, Dean had reached Bobby and was pulling him below the line of the Impala's frame. Castiel's grace blasted out like a flashbang as they obeyed, leaving the alley littered with burnt-out corpses.

“Move,” Dean ordered, breaking for the driver's side as Bobby and Castiel climbed in. “Keys?” They hit his hand from the back, where Bobby was mopping at his bleeding head with a rag from the first-aid kit kept in the wheel well behind the driver's seat.

By the time Castiel had reached back to heal him, the Impala had roared out of the alley and weaving through the streets, only stopping when traffic absolutely required it as Dean fought down both the rage and the adrenaline that screamed for him to get out of this city… this state… to find wherever the two archangels had gone and do whatever was necessary to pry the Devil out of his brother's skin and then flay the Trickster alive...

“Dean.”

Castiel. A steady pulse through the bond, quieting the darkness in his heart that wanted him to bathe to the elbows in Gabriel's blood. It made his hands steadier, helped bring his breath under control long enough to make his vision widen back out to its normal periphery. “Bobby, you okay?” he asked, needing to know exactly what he had left.

“All patched up, thanks to Cas.” Bobby was sitting up straighter, pushing his cap back in some bewilderment as he watched Dean navigate towards the highway with little regard for the laws of physics. “What the Hell happened back there? One minute I'm alone in the car, the next there's half a black-eyed century bearing down on me.”

“We got screwed is what happened,” Dean growled, his knuckles so white on the steering wheel that he could barely feel his fingers. “We gotta get to Lawrence fast, see if there's any way to salvage this shit show.”

“We can't just drive the entire way there tonight,” Castiel reasoned. “Dean, you're exhausted. We've just been betrayed and our best hope of containing the threat is gone. If you try to drive another twelve hours on pure rage, all that will happen is you will stagger into that cemetery in time to see one of your brothers dying at the swordpoint of the other.”

“You got better suggestions? Let’s have ‘em,” Dean returned, a thread of heat starting to come back into his voice. “But if you think I’m agreeing to any that involve pulling over and sleeping for a while, I should probably introduce myself again.”

“Uh, somebody back here needs some clarification?” Bobby groused irritably. “What the Hell are you-”

“The Trickster's been playing us all along after all,” Dean spat, venom lacing every word. “Instead of heading for Lawrence with the rings like we planned, he was just lying in wait for Sam to say 'yes'.”

Bobby's face creased in disbelieving horror. “Shut the Hell up.”

“Yep!” Dean's head shifted until the bones in his neck popped, loosening the stiffness in the muscles for a moment. “Soon as Lucifer was all up in Sam's skin, out strolls the Trickster, bragging about how he's the only one that's ever managed to outsmart us, just like that bitch Ruby was crowing about how good she was when Sam sprung the last lock on the Cage.” His grip tightened just enough to grind the leather on the wheel beneath his palms. “We get Sammy out of this alive and he an' I're having a serious talk about his taste in lovers.”

Slumping back against the seat, Bobby let out a long sigh and took off his cap, trying to rub sudden exhaustion out of his face and scalp. “Balls,” he breathed. “We got anything resembling a backup plan?”

“Soak the cemetery in holy oil and light a match as soon as the three of 'em get there,” Dean offered darkly. “Cas, you could heal Adam and Sam from ninth degree burns once your douchebag older brothers are fried extra-crispy, right?”

The joke landed in precisely the wrong way.

There was no warning. One second they were on 96-East, making their way out of the Detroit metro area. The next, Dean's entire body felt like it had just landed after a hard drop. His vision focused to see them rolling into the parking lot of an Econolodge. “Cas, we don't have time for-”

“Yes, we do,” Castiel countered, his voice brooking no opposition. “The appointed time isn't until noon tomorrow. There are two rooms on the end with no occupants. You and I will take one; Bobby the other. You are both going to get some rest and I am going to wake you in no more than nine hours so that we can discuss the situation with something resembling a coherent frame of mind.”

“I hate to stick my head into the lion's mouth,” Bobby added when Dean's lips began to frame an objection, “but Cas is right, Dean. Gabriel got Sam to give him the rings, which means that if he's really gone over to the Devil's side, then he's taken our biggest gun with him. We got until high noon to figure out what we got left and how to use it, so there ain't any harm in getting some shut eye. Seven A.M. gives us five hours to figure out a plan and put it in play, and you know we've done more with less time to spare.”

Everything in Dean wanted to rebel. To argue. To find where Lucifer and Gabriel had gone to ground and launch a full frontal assault that would destroy them both utterly. He wasn't thinking clearly. He wasn't thinking at all, every fiber of his being bent on revenge for being so utterly deceived.

Castiel reached out, touching one hand where it still clutched at the steering wheel. “I will ignore your autonomy if I have to, Dean. This is our most desperate hour.”

The phrasing struck enough of a chord that Dean's eyes closed for the barest moment. “Yeah, okay, Princess Leia,” he finally conceded. “But you're gonna wake me in six hours, not nine. I ain't wasting that much time.”

“As you wish, beloved.”

They landed in an abandoned theater, the interior gutted and decaying. Five demons stood near the edge of what had once been a theater box for wealthy patrons, and Gabriel let out a low whistle as he waved a hand before their faces. “Nice job on the thralls, Luci… and here I thought you'd be out of practice.”

“And why would you think that?” Lucifer glanced at Gabriel sideways as he walked towards a broken mirror on the far wall of the box. Come on, Sam... you think I can't feel you scratching away in there?

As if able to sense it as well, Gabriel came up to stand just off Lucifer's left. “He's not going to quit, you know. These boys redefined turning stubborn into an art form.”

“Believe me,” Lucifer replied dryly, “I've noticed.” Look... I'll take the gag off, okay? But you've got to calm down and stop fighting this so hard, Sam. It'll be a very minor distraction, but even minor distractions are deadly in a fight. And you know that if I die, so do you.

*I’m gonna rip you apart from the inside out,* Sam snarled the moment the shield that kept Lucifer from hearing him dropped away. The words echoed impotently in the vaults of his mind, bringing a smug smile to his physical face. *Do you understand me?!*

Such anger, young Skywalker, Lucifer quipped internally, unphased by threats he believed to be empty. Who are you really angry with? Me? Or your lover?

“So,” Gabriel asked, one hand sliding over to wrap light fingers around Lucifer’s wrist. “How’s it feel? Finally walking in your Vessel’s skin?”

“You have no idea,” Lucifer breathed, his attention leaving the raging human inside him for the moment. “Wearing that… clay doll of yours… you can’t possibly know the exhilaration. The power coursing through our veins now.” Lucifer lifted his left hand slowly, careful movements to avoid dislodging Gabriel’s fingers. “Until you’re in your Vessel, you can’t possibly imagine the completeness of it… two halves made whole.”

*This feels pretty damn far from good on this end,* Sam snapped peevishly.

Uh-uh, Sam… the Devil chided. I’m inside your grapefruit now: you can't lie to me. I see it all: how odd you always felt, how out of place in that... family of yours. And why shouldn't you have? They were foster care at best. I’m your real family.

*No,* Sam denied immediately. *That’s not true.*

Oh, no… that’s right. You thought Gabriel was your family, too… that you’d finally found twue wove… A condescending chuckle that drew a curious glance from Gabriel. A romantic idea, but as you can see, my clever little brother isn’t fighting this. How can I really be the bad guy here, if someone you trust enough to take as a mate is on my side?

“You got a plan for that audience?” Gabriel asked, drawing Lucifer’s attention back out of his internal discussion with his Vessel. “Or are they just hanging around for decoration?”

“Just hoping to show Sam that this doesn’t have to be as bad a thing as he thinks,” Lucifer told him. “After all… I let Dean live. We can even bring back the whelp Michael’s wearing once I run our eldest brother through. But first…” He turned as Gabriel released his wrist, gesturing at the five assembled demons. Any of these these little devils look familiar to you, Sam?

Through eyes that were no longer entirely his own, Sam was able to see more clearly than ever before in his life. *That’s… that’s Mr. Bensman. One of my grade-school teachers. And Doug from back in East Lansing… even Rachel Nave.

Yes, Sam. Even your prom date was part of Azazel’s gang: watching you since you were a rugrat, jerking you around like a dog on a leash. I know how you feel about them.

“Hey, now.” Gabriel reached up, catching Lucifer’s face in one hand and turning it away from the sight of the demons that were waiting listlessly for execution. “Is that really how you want to warm up for facing off with Michael? Squandering your power by slaughtering a bunch of demons?”

One eyebrow quirked. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Why should I?” Gabriel asked. One hand lifted, his fingers snapping. Five flashes of light, one after another, and each demon’s burnt-out husk dropped lifeless to the floor of the box. “It’s just a little beneath you, is all. I mean: you’re in your Vessel…” Reaching up, Gabriel skimmed appreciative hands up Lucifer’s biceps. “At the peak of your power… and you want to waste it when you could be boosting it even more?”

A wry, knowing smile curved those sensual lips only seconds before Gabriel was picked up by the lapels and slung up against the mirror, the glass smashing from the impact and clattering to the floor beneath them. “I knew it… even back at that motel those petty little godlings were using as a lair,” he hissed, low and menacing. “But I suppose you can’t help having gone a little native, given how long you’ve been hiding down here.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Luci,” Gabriel argued, hoping his fear didn’t work its way into his tone. “He was only ever a pale shadow… no one could ever burn as bright as you. And in this body? In your ultimate form?”

Lucifer’s eyes tracked the motion as Gabriel’s tongue peeked out, wetting his lips. “You really expect me to believe that… after all this time that you stood on the sidelines, letting them do this to me? After all the effort you put into keeping me away from Sam? Mating him?”

“But I know what that body likes now,” Gabriel reasoned, a spark warming in his golden eyes. “And nothing could ever make me forget what you like… or have you forgotten how much fun we used to have?” Lucifer’s silence was answer enough. “And I told you: I mated the boy so that I could deliver him to you when the time was right. Who knows how much chaos those two could’ve caused you if left to their own devices?”

“The bond is entered willing, or not at all,” Lucifer parroted, echoing their confrontation of a few months earlier. “You truly had to love him to have formed it, little brother.”

“Well of course I did,” Gabriel replied. As winsome a smile as had ever been seen curled his lips, and one hand reached up to brush at the side of Lucifer’s cheek. “How could I not have loved the only human fit to be your Vessel? It’s like you said: he’s the half you’ve been missing all this time. And now that you have him, I can think of far better ways to power up for a fight… ways that the stick up Michael’s ass would never let him even consider.” Lucifer chuckled slightly, and Gabriel wrapped a hand into Sam’s shirt, tugging Lucifer a step closer. Close enough to wrap his legs around Sam’s waist and pull their hips together. “So... what do you say you and I blow off a little steam?”

The tiniest flash. Just the barest flicker in Gabriel’s eyes as Lucifer accepted the offer, gone almost took quickly for Sam to catch. It was still enough to leave him sobbing behind the wall that Lucifer re-erected between them. Because even knowing that Dean had sacrificed his life and soul for him… even knowing how very much alike Dean and Gabriel were at their core and having felt how much Gabriel had loved him… it wasn’t until that split-second that Sam knew for sure which side Gabriel was on.

And exactly how high a cost he was paying to have chosen a side at all.

Grace filtering through his veins was a strange sensation to wake to. Unlike moments when Castiel’s grace laced through his body to enhance their passion, this was a slow seep, bringing Dean up from the dreamless sleep that Castiel had sent him into with a kiss like a bubble gently rising to the surface of a pond. He opened his eyes to see Castiel lying beside him, the sky outside just starting to lighten in the last moments of pre-dawn. “I asked you to wake me in six hours,” he observed, his tone lacking any heat or recrimination.

“And I wanted to wake you in nine,” Castiel replied. “Since you were in no frame of mind to compromise, I decided to split the difference and wake you in seven and a half.”

Dean didn’t want to argue. Not when these could be the last hours they spent together. So instead he leaned in and brushed a kiss over Castiel’s lips, giving himself permission to steal a few minutes of luxury before a fight that they were terribly likely to lose. Castiel’s arms wrapped around him and Dean let himself be gathered close as the kiss ended, closing his eyes against the coming of the day. “I don’t wanna lose him,” he told Castiel quietly, his hurt and fear over Gabriel’s betrayal making his tone almost childlike.

“I know,” Castiel soothed, breathing in the scent of his hunter. His beloved. “I don’t want to lose him, either.”

“Can we even do this?” Dean asked him. “Gabe took the one chance we had of taking them by surprise and you got blasted into Chunky soup the last time you tangled with an archangel. This time it’ll be three on one. Do we even have a chance at this point? Or do we just get Bobby drunk and fuck until the blast wave hits?”

“Sam may still have a chance to take control of Lucifer before the battle begins,” Castiel mused, his tone neutral rather than optimistic. “If he does, then it’s possible that we can convince Michael to allow us to seal Lucifer back into the Cage.”

“Put the pin back in the grenade for another couple centuries?” Dean offered a wry smile. “It’s probably the longest shot in history.”

“It’s all we have left.” Castiel answered Dean’s sardonic smile with a bemused, melancholy one. “And you’ve pulled off long shots that no one would’ve expected you to manage before… getting me to rebel against Heaven with you, for a start.”

Dean’s smile turned lazy, broader. “Was it really such an impossible thing… convincing you to be on my side over theirs?”

A low hum, and then Castiel was leaning in to brush his lips over Dean’s. “The odds were astronomical.”

“Never tell me the odds,” Dean quipped, rolling and pulling Castiel on top of him.

“I thought you didn’t want to waste time,” Castiel teased, dismissing their clothing with a slow pass of his hands.

“I’m not.” One arm wrapped up around Castiel’s neck, bringing his mouth back down to Dean’s and smothering the breathless argument in a searing kiss.

The first rays of dawn bloomed through the windows, casting a pale glow over Castiel’s skin as they moved together. Dean clung to his angel, anchoring himself in the powerful embrace that had carried him out of the depths of Hell. In the gentle, inexorable possession inside and out, and the way Castiel’s inhuman focus on his every shiver and moan made him feel, somehow, like he was actually worthy of more than blood and darkness.

It was over more quickly than either would’ve liked, both of them too caught up in the overwhelming sense of impending disaster to be able to slow each other’s ascent. But for all that the furor of their lovemaking had been intense, the lingering aftermath was soothing in a way that neither of them had expected.

Finally, as the digital clock neared seven A.M., Dean drew in a long breath and let it out, allowing himself to try and start getting ready for what was coming. “When this is all over,” Dean asked, “what happens to us?”

“I will find you,” Castiel promised him. “No matter how long it takes; no matter how far away from your Heaven I am cast. And when I do, nothing will ever part me from your side again.”

Sealing the promise with another kiss, hungry and gentle all at once, Dean nodded. “Then we’d better wake Bobby. He’s probably got a St. Crispin’s Day speech all lined up and I’d hate for him to sleep through his chance to give it.”

It wasn’t until they were gathered at a local diner, drinking coffee and listening to the news reports about catastrophic earthquakes and other equally-destructive disasters, that Dean finally turned the discussion towards planning. “Cas, have you got any idea where the Hell the Trickster’s two accomplices are?”

“As far as I can tell, Abariel and Gamaliel have left the planet entirely.” Castiel’s expression was grim as he took a sip of coffee, which he’d liberally doctored with cream and one sugar packet. “I doubt they’re in Heaven; Michael’s had a price on all of our pinions ever since finding out that Gabriel had ostensibly aligned with us against him.”

“Yeah, well, just because he played Michael for a chump too don’t exactly make me feel any better,” Dean sniped, stabbing his fork into a mouthful of apple pie.

Bobby finished off his eggs and pushed his plate aside. “Look, if the only thing we’ve possibly got left to pin our hopes on is Sam, only question that really needs answerin’ ain’t ‘where are Gabriel’s cronies’; it’s what in Hell we can to do to help him? Give him some kind of an edge on pushing the Devil out of the pilot’s seat long enough to jam up the works for good?”

“Lucifer is one of the strongest archangels ever created,” Castiel replied matter-of-factly. “And now that he is inhabiting his perfect Vessel while Michael is not, he is more than likely feeling assured of victory. With such confidence in his impending triumph added to whatever measures he’s taking in these final hours to amplify his power to the highest possible degree, I doubt there’s any action we can take to diminish his control over Sam’s body from the outside.”

Dean pushed a section of crust, too overbaked to be palatable, around his plate with his fork, his eyes lost in thought. “Maybe… maybe not.”

Bobby’s gaze shifted to Dean. “What’re you thinking?”

“Back in Motel Hell, when he first showed up and saw Gabriel again,” Dean mused. “There was this look on his face, for half a second… I mean, he’s the Devil and there’s not much I’d put past him, but this… for just a second there, when he realized Gabriel was alive and well after all…” Dean sighed and sat back, finally looking up to meet Bobby’s eyes. “It looked like the same way I felt when I saw Sam alive again after making my deal.”

Silence, save the sounds of the diner around them. “You believe that his emotions may be compromised enough to give Sam an edge?” Castiel echoed.

“I mean, the sonuvabitch supposedly got himself the title of Worst Angel Ever because he didn’t want to love humans more than God, right? And he feels like Michael betrayed him by not supporting his decision?” Dean wrapped his hand around his coffee mug, toying with it for just a moment and letting the heat soak up through his palm. “He’s pretty good at playing Ice Queen, but I’m willing to bet that he’s not gonna be all that gung-ho to actually fight Michael, which means he’s gonna be stalling. If we can make that stall last even longer, distract him on top of him feeling all verklempt about seeing his big brother again…”

“It might just give Sam an opening,” Bobby finished.

“Maybe,” Dean added. “I dunno… we’re basically talking about Sam being able to pull out a Buster Douglas, and the odds weren’t high on that one even before Gabriel turned out to be a Benedict Arnold. We got no idea how bad Sammy’s doing, locked up inside his own noggin.” He shrugged. “But it’s the only play we have left.”

Bobby nodded. So did Castiel. One by one, they lifted their coffee mugs: a last salute before a battle that might well have been hopeless. “So,” Bobby asked after they’d drunk. “What exactly is this distraction-slash-stall tactic gonna look like?”

“Well,” Dean answered lightly. “We’ve still got the Colt. It can’t kill him, but it’ll still do some damage. And you’re a damn good distance shot even with a pistol, Bobby.”

“Distance suits me just fine,” Bobby concurred. “And Castiel has his swords… but what’s that leave you? You can’t go in there without a weapon, Dean.”

The grim smile of a man in a noose spread across Dean’s face. “Don’t worry about me, Bobby. I’ve got something a little less… conventional in mind. And not even the Trickster’ll see it coming.”

It came as no great surprise to Gabriel that Lucifer wanted to arrive early to the appointed battleground. Michael was likely to be of similar mindset, but it wouldn’t be more than a few minutes before the pre-destined time before he arrived. Lucifer wanted longer: to survey the ground. To make contingency plans.

And to all but harness Gabriel to a nearby monument on the sidelines. “Luci, what the Hell-?”

“Your loyalty is touching, little brother,” Lucifer replied, tracing Gabriel’s jaw with lingering fingertips. “And you’ve got me… almost convinced that it’s genuine. But I also know that you don’t actually want this to happen… that you think somehow Michael and I can talk through all our problems and be friends again. So you’re going to stay right here and keep that talented mouth shut until it’s over. Then… and only then… will I be convinced that you’re truly on my side.”

For half a moment, Sam could see that Gabriel considered protesting. Watched him rethink the idea and settle into the place that Lucifer wanted him to remain hidden in. “On one condition,” Gabriel finally replied.

“Go on, then,” Lucifer prodded. “I’m intrigued.”

“I know that you don’t want to do this either.” Those golden eyes were intent as they watched Lucifer’s face for even a micro-reaction. “I know you’re going to try and talk Michael out of it; you want everyone to think you’re just all about the fight but we both know better than that.” There was no response; Gabriel wasn’t expecting one. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, part from anxiety and part a reminder of the hours they’d just spent together. “But if you can’t get Michael to go for it, then you have to promise me that you’ll end it fast.”

Lucifer blinked. Sam was doubly startled: both by Gabriel’s request and by Lucifer’s own surprise at it. “What?”

“Don’t toy with him,” Gabriel explained. “Don’t give him the chance to wear you out or lull you into a false sense of security. Make it quick, strike true, and be the one that wins the fight. I really don’t want to know what the universe will be like if you’re not in it.”

“You haven’t exactly been suffering from my loss while I was locked up in the deepest Pit in Hell,” Lucifer riposted coolly.

“But you were still alive,” Gabriel countered. “There might not’ve been a damned thing I could do to free you until the time was right, but you were at least still alive, brother. Don’t make me live in a world where that’s not true, for both our sakes… okay?”

There was a tremor inside Lucifer’s grace; a frisson of real emotion. A memory of something Sam had never even imagined before. Without thinking about it, Sam tracked where it had come from, following the thread…

*“You need to find his heart, Sam… Lucifer’s. It’s still there. You have to find it. It’s the key to everything.”*

All at once, Sam understood. He just hoped it wasn’t too late.

The flap of great wings, far larger than the raven that squawked nearby. Lucifer turned, knowing what was coming… Sam could feel the undercurrent of uncertainty. Not fear; Lucifer held no fear of his elder brother, just as Sam held no real fear of Dean. But it had been uncounted aeons since they'd last seen one another, and so much pain and bitterness and betrayal laced the memories of that last meeting…

And under it all, Sam felt the faintest glimmer of love for his brother. Even now, as Lucifer prepared himself for the possibility that swords would be drawn, Sam felt him summon one last gambit… one final attempt to convince Michael…

“It's good to see you, Michael.” Sam could feel how true the words were, could hear the sincerity in his borrowed voice. Lucifer had missed Michael… no matter what else had happened between them, he'd missed his big brother…

“You, too.” Adam's co-opted tones carried no less honesty, and just a touch of surprise, as if Michael had expected to meet a drawn sword and sworn enemy the moment he took the field, rather than a younger brother. “It's been too long.”

“Can you believe it's finally here?” Lucifer was stalling… approaching his final persuasion cautiously, knowing he would have no more chances if this failed… Sam could taste it now, held himself still and waited… he'd never expected Lucifer to try this… to want this as little as he and Dean had… less, because it meant destroying Michael…

Michael stepped closer, an ambling gait, as if he were as reluctant as Lucifer to engage what was to come. “No… not really.” He sighed, looking as resigned as one could ever be to the whims of fate, and Sam felt a twinge of hope that Lucifer might actually prevail. “Are you ready?”

Pain lanced through Lucifer, anguish that would have brought Sam to his knees in wracking sobs… centuries… millennia of broken emotions roiled through him, and Sam shrank from it, knowing he could never withstand that much pain… “As I'll ever be.” A moment of hesitation, watching Michael's face… seeing it mirrored in his brother… “Part of me wishes we didn't have to do this.”

Michael's jaw tightened. “Yeah… me, too.”

There was a throb of regret lacing the words, of love for a brother one was resigned to lose. Lucifer seized the moment, stepping closer to Michael. “Then why are we?”

“Oh, you know why!” Michael snapped, his voice soft even now, as if he merely wanted this over with, and no longer caring about the reasons that brought them here. Sam remembered Gabriel's aching despair in Wellington… had to remember not to try and reach out towards Gabriel through a bond that no longer existed… “I have no choice after what you did.”

“What I did?” Lucifer echoed, almost disbelieving. Sam could feel the angel's temper quickening, suppressed the urge to call out to the archangel to smother it before it compromised this last effort to stop the madness brewing in the aether around them… “What if it's not my fault?”

“What's that supposed to mean?” There was a tired patience in Michael's voice, as if he'd heard all of this before, and was moved by none of it.

“Think about it,” Lucifer urged, regaining his composure and pitching his voice toward logic, reason… deadly weapons in the hands of the father of sophistry. “Dad made everything…which means He made me who I am. God wanted the Devil.”

Michael looked away for a moment, his jaw setting in a firmer, more stubborn line. Sam wanted to stop Lucifer, to caution him that attacking God to Michael would do no good. Lucifer wouldn't have paid attention to him now even if he'd tried, desperation edging his lines of debate. “So?”

“So why?” Lucifer asked, tears pooling in his eyes, catching in his voice. “And why make us fight? I just can't figure out the point.”

Squaring his shoulders, shielding whatever reaction he might have had to the pointed question, Michael's eyes were dry. “What's your point?” he asked bluntly.

Lucifer swallowed back his emotions, sensing that Michael was withdrawing from him. He hadn't lost yet… couldn't give up yet… “We're going to kill each other,” he pointed out, tone almost casual, as if noting two dust motes about to collide in a shaft of sunlight. “And for what? One of Dad's tests? We don't even know the answer.” Lucifer took a half step closer, willing Michael to see that this wasn't a trick, wasn't a lie… was the truth as only Lucifer could tell it. The truth that was sometimes more insidious than any deception could be. “We're brothers,” he reminded Michael, soft and beguiling. “Let's just walk off the chess board.”

Michael turned from him, eyes uncertain, shoulders slumping just slightly. For a moment, both Sam and Lucifer held themselves utterly still… waiting… hoping together… Michael turned back, and Sam's hope died. Lucifer still clung to his own, but Sam knew it was already too late. “I'm sorry, I… I can't do that. I'm a good son, and I have my orders.”

“You don't have to follow them,” Lucifer urged again. He couldn't have lost… Sam felt his desperation come back… unwilling to accept that this last hope was gone…

“What? You think I'm going to rebel? Now?” The contempt in Michael's voice was scathing, raking across both Sam and Lucifer's senses like claws. “I'm not like you.”

“Please, Michael…” There was no pride in the Morningstar's voice… only a little brother's plea…

A plea falling on deaf ears. Sam ached for Lucifer in that moment, having been on the receiving end of a much more human version of this from Dean. Gabriel had been right: no one person or angel or even God was to blame. Not even Lucifer was ultimately culpable for what was about to happen. “You haven't changed a bit, little brother,” Michael cut in, voice sharp as the swords they had yet to unsheathe. “Always blaming everybody but yourself. We were together… happy… but you betrayed me. All of us. And you made our Father leave.”

“No one makes Dad do anything,” Lucifer defended, his tone sharp and angrier than he wanted. Sam couldn't blame him for it. Even knowing what Lucifer had done, Michael putting God's withdrawal on Lucifer's shoulders was doing it up a bit much. Sam had to wonder how long it had taken Michael to lay that sin at Lucifer's door, and just who was the real adept at blaming everyone but the person at fault. “He is doing this to us!”

“You're a monster, Lucifer.”

The words splashed through the archangel like salt acid on a festering wound. Sam felt the hope finally bleed away, wanted to weep as the words rang a death knell to any chance that Lucifer might have believed he was more than what Destiny and Falling and Hell had twisted him into. Any chance that if he won, he could be convinced not to annihilate the humans that had been the catalyst for his expulsion from Heaven.

“And I have to kill you.”

“If that's the way it's gotta be,” Lucifer finally replied. Sam felt the shimmer of grace, so different from Gabriel's, as a blade forged from shadow and starlight seemed to coalesce at his hip, sheathed in ebony and set with onyx and bloodstone. “Then I'd like to see you try.”

Metal chords shrieked through the air, suddenly blasting at levels that might have shaken ground not built to bear the weight of immortals in combat. Both archangels turned to see what could possibly be carrying the music closer, astonished that they were about to be interrupted.

Gabriel took the opportunity to step clear from the hiding place Lucifer had all but bound him to, crossing the field to stand just aside from his brothers. “Don't look now, Mikey,” he said gamely, ignoring Lucifer's outraged cry and Michael's complete shock. “But I think your original escort's decided to crash the party.”

Sure enough, Sam watched in horrified incredulity as the Impala pulled through the graveyard as if driving down a two-lane highway, Judas Priest screaming from the speakers and two familiar heads inside.

Has your brother completely lost anything resembling the mind Father gave him?!

*Possibly,* Sam admitted, trying not to flinch before the archangel's rage. *But he won't stop until he's tried everything. If he's supposed to put a stop to this… if the prophecy's true… then he can't. It's not in him to give up.*

The implied censure of Michael only served to make Lucifer angrier, even if Sam hadn't intended for that to be detectable. He needed to remember that they were far more than in each other's pockets right now, and when Lucifer focused on him, there was nothing he could hide.

Music still blasting, engine still purring, Dean stepped from the driver's door and leaned casually against the frame of the window. “Howdy, boys… I'm not interrupting, am I?”

Gabriel's eyebrows shot up as Bobby exited the passenger seat, as if he couldn't believe his ears. “Nice opening line, Winchester. Feeling suicidal today, are we?”

“Blow me, Trickster,” Dean snapped, something akin to real hatred lighting his eyes as he stepped around the door and walked towards Lucifer. “We need to talk.”

“Dean…” Lucifer's voice was a purr of menace; Sam felt panic start to rise, realizing that Lucifer was beyond caring what Sam might think or feel about anything that happened. The archangel had nothing left to lose. “Even for you, this is a whole new mountain of stupid.”

“I ain't talkin' to you,” Dean corrected bluntly. “I'm talking to Sam.”

“You're no longer the Vessel, Dean.” Michael's tone was imperious; commander of Heaven's armies, an ancient inflection that nearly crushed all will to do aught but obey. “You have no right to be here.”

Dean's eyes flickered to Michael for a moment. “Adam… if you're in there somewhere… I'm sorry.”

The glint that slashed across Michael's eyes was almost cruel. “Adam's not home right now.”

Viridian eyes hardened. “Then that makes this easier.”

Before anyone knew what was happening, a lighter concealed in Dean's hand flicked as Dean yanked something from his coat. Castiel appeared as Dean let the object fly, yanking Dean out of range as the bottle burst against Adam's chest and holy oil ignited, burning Michael to a cinder in less time than it took to snuff a candle.

Gabriel was staring at Dean in horror, a personal nightmare flashing to life before his eyes. Lucifer's eyes narrowed. Pleas spilled from Sam before he knew he was doing it, begging Lucifer not to do it, to spare Dean, that Dean was just angry and Michael wasn't really harmed…

“Five minutes,” Dean said evenly, pulling himself free of Castiel's death grip and stalking towards the archangel in his brother's skin.

“You just Molotoved my brother with holy oil.” Lucifer's voice was no longer recognizable as Sam's. Something older than the sun shimmered darkly in that voice, undertones of power and light and fury the likes of which none of the humans present could possibly fathom. “And you want five minutes to try and reach your baby brother?”

“Bastard deserved it,” Dean snarled. “You in there, Sammy?”

Michael flickered back, recovering faster than anticipated. The distraction was all the time Lucifer needed. His hands shot up, framing Dean's jaw in his inhuman grip. “He's in here… and he's gonna feel the snap of your bones!”

No one had time to move. Sam screamed in the vaults of their joined minds as Dean's neck cracked in Lucifer's hands, the light fading from those viridian eyes. Dimly, Sam heard an Enochian battle cry, and then Castiel advanced, angelic armor replacing Jimmy's clothes, sword flashing in the light and dagger biting into Sam's flesh.

For all that Castiel was the more skilled with a blade, fury over his mate's death dulled his responses and Sam's was the body built for combat. It wasn't long before Lucifer found an opening, and Sam's soul wept as the Morningstar ran Castiel through, then kicked his body free of the blade.

Michael was just standing there, waiting patiently. After millennia, he could afford to let his little brother deal with the distractions before getting down to the serious fighting. Bobby got off one shot with the Colt before Lucifer simply reached out with a contemptuous gesture, and Sam could only watch behind his own eyes as Bobby dropped like a marionette severed from its strings, heart crushed in the grip of Lucifer's mind.

Only the archangels remained on the field. Gabriel stood back… apart from both… uncertainty on his elfin face…

Something like resignation flickered. Sam saw it, tried to claw his way forward as Gabriel put himself between Michael and Lucifer and flung down the combined rings of the Horsemen, the beginnings of the spell that would open the Cage forming on his lips from the moment they touched earth...

Words that were lost in a death rattle as Michael cut him down as coldly as Lucifer had Castiel, spitting out the Enochian for 'traitor' as Gabriel's grace flashed and faded.

A numb, empty resolve settled over Sam as Gabriel's body crumpled against a crumbling headstone, sensual lips slack, golden eyes closed, great opal wings now shadows and ash. They had taken everyone… everything he loved… without the bond, his mate was lost to him in death…

His clothing shifted… armor fitted to his form… silk tunic beneath the metal plates that was the color of blood at midnight, Enochian sigils in the deep black of a moonless night… the sword in his hand felt natural there, as natural as the one Michael now wielded looked in Adam's… the archangels saluted with their weapons… a final civility as ancient as the art of Death…

Michael would have blinded his purely human eyes. Radiant. Lethal. Beauty like the sun at midday. Adam wasn't strong enough to fight Michael… Sam knew it, could see in the way Michael's grace blazed in his vision that his younger half-brother was caged… helpless…

As both angels believed him to be. Neither considered Sam a threat, focused on one another. Magic as deep and old as the formation of the world cracked like thunder, swirling in the beginnings of a cyclone that would rip down the Pillars of the Earth. Armageddon was starting.

At the first ring of steel, Sam acted.

Flinging himself into the fire he'd avoided at all costs. Into the very core of the Morningstar.

Lucifer didn't seem to notice, concentrating on Michael. Sam couldn't afford to pay attention to the battle that Bards would weep for a thousand years to have missed, forced himself to ignore the parry of blades, the flickers of power. He wasn't entirely sure there would be anything left of him to remember it anyway… he too had nothing left to lose, and there was one option none of them had ever considered trying…

Grace buffeted him, shoved and repelled him, tried to keep him out… Sam could see the shadows… the anguish… cut off from his Father… his brothers… alone… Sam opened, accepted, embraced the knifing agony and pushed through…

Beyond the pain, hidden from the darkness, it was light. Grace. Sam could feel the terrible Love surrounding him, capable of utter brutality and unflinching beauty…

It could not be said that Lucifer could not be kind. His kindness merely came at a price. After such betrayal as he felt he had suffered, he could no longer give compassion freely. This was its source. The heart of the angel, the shining center of the Morning Star.

This was Heylel. Not Lucifer. Not the Devil. An angel bound by shackles of pain and misery beyond mortal comprehension. Sam's soul wept as he absorbed it, acclimated to it… he needed to move, to do this before it was too late… but there was so much… too much… and Sam knew his human soul could barely feel the true extent…

Music was everywhere, flooding through Sam, prayers screamingbeggingpleadingraging behind the defensive wall that had almost kept Sam out. Had Sam not been so perfectly forged to house Lucifer, he doubted he would have gotten through. Broken chords… angry and dark and hopeless and grieving… Sam had never before understood the ripping agony of the separation Heylel suffered…

If he had not become Lucifer, Sam wondered if the archangel would truly have survived long enough to meet this day. Everything he had done, right or wrong, had been to survive the loss of his Father's love… and Michael's…

The battle raged, though Sam was only conscious of the edges. Both were master swordsmen, but refusal to be bested by Michael matched reluctance to finally kill Lucifer, drawing out what could have been over in an instant. Even this, in the end, was a delaying tactic, both angels unwilling to hasten the other's final destruction…

Sam was grateful for that. It gave him time to find what he was looking for.

Memories locked away; the box that he perceived was much like the descriptions of the Ark of the Covenant. Appropriate, Sam thought, given what he knew lay within. It fought him as he reached for it, repulsed him, shock waves of torture tearing at his soul, trying to keep him out, keep him away, don't touch that leavethatalone…

Sam ignored it all, bore the pain unflinching as it tore into his soul with talons sharper than any daeva's… bore it all as he had been made in his mother's womb to do as he drew on everything he had left…

Gabriel, with whom he'd had so little time, but whose love for him had made these last months the happiest in Sam's life… whose gentleness and ferocious passion and mischief-making had given Sam the piece of himself he'd always felt was missing… had let Sam come to terms with himself, reconcile his heart and his destiny… realize that there was a chance for someone like him to be happy… to deserve that happiness…

Castiel… who had once considered him an abomination… solid and quiet and unflinching no matter what Hell and darkness came their way… a brother in the end, loving him in spite of all he'd done, understanding how important Sam was to Dean…

Dean. His brother. Who had saved him from Azazel's fire. Played with him through the endless hours on the road, from the earliest memories of his childhood through the more subtle games of adulthood. Held him while he wept. Shown him how to use the weapons they needed to survive. Protected him from nightmares within and without. Taught him about sex and love, respect and compassion. Been father and brother and best friend and beloved and everything in between, and given it all without a thought for himself.

Sam could almost feel Dean here with him now, lending him courage, strength to do what was needful. They were intertwined in ways Sam had never suspected before. Could only be grateful for. It meant that even here, even now, Sam was not alone.

Dean was always with him.

Shored up by the foundation their love had built, every ounce of Sam's soul focused on the effort to open that box…

A crack of light. Lucifer finally noticed then, but his snarl of warning, his attempt to pull Sam back from the box, out of what remained of Heylel, came too late. Sam pried the lid from the ark, unbinding memories not given reign in aeons.

Through the joining of their minds, far deeper than intended because of this last, desperate gambit, Sam saw and felt it all through Heylel's eyes.

Love. That was all it could be called, and yet impossibly inadequate. Light of Creation suffused him, granting Form and Life and Consciousness. Gazing up at the Infinite, Wonder and Instant Devotion kindling through him. A smile.

“Heylel.” And thus was he named. Light-bearer of God. Morning Star.

And then another presence, smiling and Happy and Loving. Great wings and sunlight blaze. Beauty. Strength. Courage. The first of them all.

“This is your brother, Michael.”

A hand reaching out, taking his. Warmth and Love, and Gratitude to their Father for making him. “Father says I'm supposed to teach you what you'll need to know. Come, Heylel… fly with me.”

The battle had stuttered to a halt. Sam knew Michael was catching the edges, unable to press the advantage as Lucifer went utterly still, sword barely gripped in his slack hand. Gathering, unable to process the images and sensations that rushed forth as Heylel's first flight across the Universe with Michael played out, Sam searched… and found.

A link, like his to Dean. Forged by God Himself, sealed off by Lucifer's will alone, shielding his brother from the true depth of his punishment. There was a honeycomb of them, links to every angel in Creation. Sam only needed this one, reached out and pushed through the gossamer shield… tearing away the veil from Heylel's grace… secrets shared with Dean had torn down the walls that had kept them apart… painful as it was, this was a secret Heylel had kept from Michael too long…

Anguish. Sam heard the cry, felt the sword being sheathed as Lucifer ran to his brother's side. Michael's knees had given under the weight of it, eyes huge and heartbroken as he felt, for the first time, how much pain had been inflicted… how much of this could have been prevented…

A battle… shadowy… formless… Sam couldn't perceive what they fought, only that they were side by side, the Name of the Father on their lips, Love for Him strengthening their resolve. Quickening their power. Michael miscalculated, a single slip… deadly in the heat of combat…

The creature never had the chance to strike. Heylel's blade removed the threat faster than thought, saving Michael's life. “It's all right, big brother. I won't let them have you.”

Mortal-shaped eyes held as the memory resonated through them both… a thousand more like it… a thousand thousand… from time out of mind, they had been together… loved one another… intimate in ways that non-angels could never fathom…

Hands stroking Heylel's wings… correcting the flows of power where they ran askew. “Do you really love me, Michael? Or do you just love me because Father commands us to love each other?”

“There's no difference, Heylel.” Tucking him closer, smiling at him. “You're my brother. Father made you for me to love. How can I do anything else?”

“But what if you had to make a choice?” There was such innocence in the words, even as the shadow of destiny crossed them. “What if you had to decide between obeying Father and loving me?”

“Don't be foolish, Heylel.” Michael's lips brushed over his eyes, a soft gesture of fondness. “Father didn't order me to love you. He gave you to me to love. There's a difference. And besides, what could you ever do that would make Father want me not to love you? He Loves us both more than we could ever love each other.”

Doubt and Worry fled, the laughter of their brothers ringing through the vaults of Heaven, and Heylel remained in Michael's arms, Contentment flooding through him.

*You're brothers.* Sam was beyond weeping, beyond awe, beyond silence. He could feel Adam's terror through Heylel's bond to Michael, sent reassurances to him that everything would be all right. *Remember that. Remember. You're brothers.*

Michael stared up at Lucifer… at Heylel… his sun-sword as forgotten as his brother's night-blade. “Brother…”

“Please, Michael.” Heylel's voice speaking now, Heylel's eyes staring back at him for the first time since before the creation of Man. “You promised.”

They knew it was coming. Father was working again, Creating again. They would have new brothers soon: strange forms, but still brothers. Something nagged at Heylel. “Michael… I feel something… something's coming…”

“What, brother?” Wings and arms wrapping him close. A kiss to the forehead, to banish worry.

“I don't know… I can't See it yet.” Heylel relaxed into those arms. “When I do… if I tell you… will you listen?”

“I always do,” Michael soothed. Heylel's wings were trembling under his touch, a sign of his distress. “You know I do.”

“Promise me.” Heylel gazed at his brother… the first of them all… “Promise me that you'll listen, and won't turn me away.”

“I promise, Heylel.” Michael kissed his lips gently, sealing the vow. “I promise.”

The unease lifted, and Heylel relaxed. Michael always kept his promises.

“Heylel…” Michael's voice was broken, guilt and self-loathing heavier than any mortal could bear. “What have we done?”

Heylel clung to him, held him up. No longer Lucifer. No longer the Devil. And yet something of that creature remained… shadows too ingrained to be banished. Strength too hard won to give up. “Michael… don't. There's no time… we have to…”

But it was already too late.

Consciousness of their surroundings crashed back into the archangels as eldritch flame split the sky. Currents of Fire and Fury howled around them, the magicks that bound the universe shrieking for destruction. There was no way to stop them without utterly destroying everything. Heaven or Hell. Michael or Lucifer. A sacrifice was needed. An outlet for the brewing maelstrom required.

“I can't.” Michael gazed at him. “I can't kill you. Father Forgive me… I can't.”

“He would Forgive you anything,” Heylel assured him softly. “It's me He no longer Loves.”

“That's not true,” Michael insisted. “I know that's not true.”

“It doesn't matter now,” Heylel replied practically. “One of us has to die here, or the deep magicks will rip reality apart.”

Michael was silent, staring up into his brother's borrowed hazel eyes. “I can't kill you… but you can kill me.”

“No.”

“You don't have a choice.” Michael pushed himself to his feet, arms splayed wide in a gesture of surrender. Of trust. “I owe you a life, brother. Time to claim it. It's the only way.”

Heylel stood, a thousand arguments struggling for voice, no time for any of them.

Sam reached out, hoping this would work. *There's another way.*

How? Sam, one of us has to die here. There's no way to stop this now.

*I know… but there's another way.*

Understanding dawned between them. Heylel could sense Sam's resolve. The numbness of having lost everything that really mattered to him leaving in its wake the ability to do what was needed. What was unimaginable. What neither Heylel nor Lucifer would have had the strength to do to end the madness…

He met Michael's eyes, calm and open and resigned. His brother. The first of them all. The second being of all Creation that Heylel loved. “It's all right, brother,” Michael assured him softly. “I'm ready.”

His hand drew his blade. Sam felt the tremor in the muscle. Pressed outward. He was calm. Still. At peace. Shared it with the archangel as their wills fused into one. *It'll be okay. We'll do it together.* He felt Heylel acquiesce, felt himself controlling his muscles in tandem with the archangel. *Now.*

One step. Two. Distance closed between them. Night-blade half-raised, bloodstone and onyx glowing bright in response to Heylel's shadow-tipped grace. Michael gazed at them, unmoving, blue eyes unafraid and grace blazing bright as the sun…

Their joined will reversed the sword and drove it through Sam's heart.

Michael's scream was drowned in the rush of thunder and fury as blood ran down the blade, drawing the magicks, binding them. Channeling them. Sam's body crumpled as Michael darted forward to catch him, trying to pull out the sword, to staunch the flow, to let his brother heal…

“No.” Sam was speaking now, Heylel beyond it. “Let him do this… let it be over for him… be his brother, one last time…”

The First Archangel wept, great wings beating as grief and despair shattered through him. “Brother…”

Sam smiled, seeing Dean's face over Michael's. He wasn't alone.

His hands gripped the sword tighter, forcing it deeper and twisting it with his last ounce of strength. Heylel's grace flashed, Fire and Fury dying away and draining the last of the magicks with it. Michael's grief roared to the Heavens, a broken crystal wail of utter despair.

It was over. The world remained.

Sam closed his eyes, still smiling, and died.