One dayLucifer will make him repent.

The one who appears on the crossroad isn't the same demon that Dean deceived the last time. Dean can see it. It's not even a male meatsuit, there is something else. For a crossroad demon this one lacks pixyish look or excitement on sinfully sensual lips, not to mention he expresses nor anger at the Winchester, nor even a curiosity. He just stands calmly in the demon trap with a raised eyebrow and a smile so little and serene that Dean doesn't feel as bold as before. The demon has yet uttered a word. He just waits, looking Dean right in the eye, sending chills down his spine. "Not a chatty type, huh? I thought you demons don't know how to shut up," sarcasm, pretense, defense. Dean has to swallow the lump formed in his throat under the heavy gaze of the evil spirit he's summoned. "This could be one of the most human feature of theirs," comments a deep but carefree voice. "It's charming right until it becomes annoying. But it hasn't tired me yet," it sounds almost condescending. Another long pause follows, extremely uncomfortable for the hunter and perfectly fine by the bastard in the drawn circle. He doesn't initiate the deal, just picks Dean apart with his bright and yet somehow very dark eyes. "You know, why I called you, demon. You know who I am and what I want." "Do I? I'm not that presumptuous, unlike you. As far as I can tell you've summoned me to feast your eyes on me, Dean Winchester. Should I be flattered or offended? After all, I'm not a piece of meat," the demon enjoys himself and mocks Dean. "First of all,it's not you I wanted to summon, but that bitch who..." starts Dean, but interrupted by soft 'tsk-tsk-tsk'. "Language. You've hurt and threatened to kill my little girl, of course I wouldn't let her go," to think of it, the guy does look a little pissed off, in a very cold way though. "Do you want to make a bargain, sinner? If not, I won't stay here any further. Especially when I'm so sure, you'll end up in Hell with me anyway, Dean," he whispers his name and hunter can't repress the shudder. Then a strange things occures. The demon steps over perfectly made lines of the trap without sparing Dean a glance and Dean reaches for the colt. "Stop right there!" Dean suddenly realizes he hasn't been in control from the very start and it is frightening. "Or what? You shoot me? Please, Dean, you don't know who you deal with," and with a flip of fingers colt hits the ground five meters away and bastard didn't even look. "I'll bargain with you!" Dean yells desperately. "I want... I need Sam back!" he got nothing to lose anymore. Sam was his responsibility and he failed him, he failed dad and mom, everyone, but if he can fix it... even if with his life... The demon faces him again and smiles: "And what if said, that Samuel's soul is in Heaven, if your brother is in a better place now? Would you still want him back?" But Dean knows thee is no such thing. "Paradise? Are you kidding me? There is no Heaven or God." "How beautifully selfish of you, Dean!" the soul-dealer laughs delightfully. "Holding onto your little unimportant lives like there is nothing bigger than that. So be it then." The demon steps closer and closer until his hot breath touches Dean's skin. Then he continues: "But I'm afraid the usual deal is out of our options. The conditions must be much more severe if you want to see your dearest Sam again," the fear and great expectation takes a hold on Dean's being, when demon touches his face with knuckles, lightly and gently. "You soul, your body, your allegiance and love... sacrifice it all to me and I promise we will get Sam back. Join me, Dean, and we shall make the Heaven fall." The understanding overwhelms him the hunter, he knows whom he summoned... "Then you shall have your brother back. As I shall have all of mine." Dean doesn't have much to give. He doesn't find will or strength in him to resist the fathomless eyes and hypnotizing voice that now hums some song as the Devil caress his cheek. He can say no and walk away. And live with his guilt or at least try to. "Your choice," the green eyes turn completely black as Dean is given the last chance. "I can do with my unimportant little life whatever I want, right?" he murmurs, grabs the wicked one by the collar and seals the deal with a kiss that burns his insides out. This infernal fire tempers his spirit and Dean doesn't fight it, lets it go deeper and purge him from the burdens of his existence. It hurts, but this pain is almost ecstatic and Dean can't have enough of it. After who knows how long he opens his eyes and see them reflect in emerald orbs with blackness. "How does that feel, Dean?" Newly made demon grins and leans to kiss his master and creator again.

Pale fingers comb through long white mane of skinny pale horse gently and lovingly. Worn creature welcomes such affection with joy. This angel earned white mare's trust long ago. But the Horseman himself finds Michael's presence unsettling. Especially now, when Heaven declared him the enemy number one. But looking closer Death can't see a single difference from the last time they saw each other. Angel looks at him with his annoying little smile. "Why are you sad?" the question sounds completely innocent. "Why aren't you, child?" Death sighs. He should be. But there are many thing Michael should have been and never was. "I don't think I know what it exactly means - to be sad," he shrugs. Strange, because he can always recognize the sorrow in others. "There is pain, but nothing hurts," explains Death patiently. Angel hums musingly. "I always wanted to sing, when Father was sad..." that doesn't really surprise Death. "I could never feel enough to cry with Him. Even now... I don't think I'm going to." "Tell me, child, do you even know why you've been exiled?" But the thing is, Death can't remember if Michael ever understood anything. Laws and rules, he knows nothing about them. Because nobody ever bothered to teach him. "He will be happy now. They all will be." "Probably. And you?" "And I didn't even have a chance to say goodbye," the answer is beyond the point, but then again, Death didn't expect anything else. Death reaches to Michael's face and pushes his hair away from his eyes. Blackness without a glint. Darkness greedily swallowing all the light that tries to reach it. No shame. No guilt. No sin.

Well, probably not Death, he’s just super neutral, but he would respect Michael more than Lucifer in that role (Michael is not a spoiled child after all, but still a child). I think all four would side with Michael willingly, without prophecies and bind spells. And I also think that Michael as devil can and will provide more communication between them (because there are some sirious separation issues), and it will remind them that family doesn’t always mean to hurt. So they actually can become more positive, power of love and all that. 

I think I will. Maybe about his fall??? Interesting thing is that I really believe if Michael was the one to fall with some other angels (because no one has to go to Hell alone), God and Gabriel would stay home. Also, there woud be no cage, because Horsemen wouldn’t provide Lucifer with a lock.

The autumn is warm, it's October already and it's still 15°C. Old ladies with their grandchildren are feeding ducks in the pond. Almost idyllic picture, thinks Alex, sitting on the bench. Only thing lacking - a smoke. He spots a man going along the bank, black hair, dark gray suit, nothing special. He doesn't look like a smoker, but Alex decides to approach him. "Hey, brother! Got a cigarette?" "Sure," the man has very bright eyes. He takes a cigar-case out of pocket and offers it to Alex. Weird, he never saw people carrying cigar-cases, especially such fancy ones. An antique, without doubt. But even weirder is that the case contains the same cigarettes Alex prefers. A small miracle, huh. "Thanks, man!" "You are welcome," the strangers has some strange accent, but his speech is clear. A German? Or British? As the guy was about to turn and continue his stroll, Alex's curiosity won. "Hey! Where are you from? You're obviously not from here," very smooth, Sherlock. The guy smiled widely and said: "Indeed, I wasn't born here. I am... a global citizen," that sounds like a joke. "A drifter?" "A wanderer," the stranger insists. "Though, I've already seen everything and more," and this is a moment when Alex realizes that he has that ancient look in the eyes. It's not bullshit, he met people like that, just much older, like WW veterans for example. But he looks about Alex's age, early to late twenties, no older. But who knows... Stranger takes out a cigarret for himself and Alex somehow misses when he lights it. Ah, whatever. Not to be rude, Alex introduces himself. "Name's Aleksey. Alex." The handshake is warm. Feels hot against his cool skin. What did mama say? Don't trust men with cold hands and women with warm hands... That's it. Well, seems like he has nothing to worry about. Still, the exchange gave him chills. "Mikhail," now Alex notices some other tones behind the voice, lower and upper, overlaying each other. Or it is his imagination? Mikhail takes a long drag and something about his manner to smoke is... feminine? Not, that's not the word. Aristocratic, possibly. The sky becomes darker. "So where are you from? You never told me." "From above," Mikhail points to the sky. "Or if you mean more recent times - from below." Cryptic... but Alex gets it. "Like a cosmonaut who just exited the subway?" "Something like that," laughs the 'cosmonaut'. "I would actually say, it's almost true. Oh, look!" he shows to the sky. But Alex doesn't see anything. "There! Venus!" now he sees. Mikhail continues: "A star that announces the night and day both... such a beauty. Would you believe if I told you that I know nothing more beautiful? It is all we have between dark and light." Huh, he didn't seem like a romantic type before. "Never really saw it like this," shrugs Alex. "What do you think Jesus' last words were?" suddenly asks Mikhail. "Father, receive my soul or something like that?" Alex doesn't think about it much. "Well, if I heard right, he said 'Mother'," Mikhail says absolutely seriously. It makes Alex laugh and only in the back of his head echoes the question 'Heard?' "It''s believable, I have to admit," Alex wasn't religious, even anti-religious, but it sounds like a simple human thing. Finishing his cigarette, Alex looks at his watch. It's already this late? "Oh, look at the time. I gotta go. I have an important meeting soon." "I'm afraid it's not going to happen," Mikhail said with a low chuckle. "Why?" Alex doesn't understand this guy at all. "Because, old Vasya has already gotten drunk," he says simply. What Vasya? What does he have to do with Alex? "I... see," he replies awkwardly and receives another charming smile. "Well, it was nice talking to you," almost. "Bye." "Goodbye, Alex. Such a shame we won't see each other again," Mikhail really looks sad about the idea. Alex walks fast leaving the strange young man behind. The subway is not crowded. Not too much. The train is coming and Alex stand right behind the white line. Suddenly someone collides with him hard from behind. Someone heavy and reeking of alcohol. But Alex doesn't care because he's falling. Someone's above shouts: "Vasily, what the hell?!!" Vasya. Vasya who got drunk... It hurts... Screams and swears and roar of oncoming train. All Alex has time to do is squeeze his eyes shut and whisper 'Mama'...

Flowers and Prompts

A/N:  I just realized I haven’t posted this one yet, as I’ve been saving this for a fanart, but I grew to hate the sketch, so here it is.