#michael!dean

Michael taunted Dean day in, day out. Mocked him as he watched his whole being starting to crumble more and more with every soul he saw leaving the eyes of his loved ones. But Dean still had hoped that she would be the one to get away. That with some miracle she'd be able to hide from Michael so well he'd never find her. That hope was lost. So goddamn fast.

Dean tried to fight every step he felt Michael take towards her apartment. He still fought to kick Michael out. Attempted to take back control. Tried to make him not go after her. He pleaded. He had already lost so much in his life that he was begging him not to do it. She didn't deserve to pay for Dean's choices. None of them ever did.

He was frozen in his own mind as Michael knocked on her apartment door. He was left helpless as he watched her open the door with a smile on her face when she saw a familiar face. It had been a few years since they last saw each other. A few years since she had left the hunting life behind, hoping to get a chance at the peaceful life she had never known. But once you've started hunting, you can never really get out, so Dean was hardly surprised when a splash of holy water hit his face. Michael only flashed her a smile, wiping his face with the sleeve of Dean's flannel.

“You really think I would've been knocking if I had been a demon out to get you, sweetheart?”

“You can never be too careful, y'know?” She chuckled back as she stepped away from the door to let him enter her home. The sound of her laughter broke Dean's heart. He already knew it would be the last time he'd hear it. Last time to see her eyes lit up with a smile. Last time to see her because Dean had already accepted the fact that as long as Michael was still kicking around in his body, he too would be alive. Probably even longer than he should, so there would be no meeting her or Sam in heaven. Or it would be so far in the future that the faces of his loved ones would be something he'd not remember then. He'd be all alone. Dean wished he would've been able to warn her somehow, but all he could do was watch as the nightmare started to unfold.

She didn't even ask if he wanted a drink, but offered him one as soon as he was inside. She just knew him that well.

If only she knew she should have been running instead.

Two of them sat down on her couch, catching up on the old times, on their old love. They talked about past hunts they had together and all those shared secrets and dreams they trusted only to each other to keep. She knew Dean almost better than anybody. She knew he wouldn't break his promise to let her go just that easy. There was something off about him and she couldn't tell what.

And Michael was ready to give her a performance of a lifetime to try and erase any rising doubt from her mind. He knew each of Dean's thoughts. He'd seen every memory of her. He knew how to lie well enough about Sam and others that she'd believe every word out of his mouth. But Michael saw that despite welcoming him so warmly and openly, she was still somewhat guarded. Perhaps the girl was just smarter than he had thought?

“Dean…uh.. don't get me wrong, I am so happy to see you, but how did you find me?” She asked after a moment of silence. Michael had been expecting that question.

He looked down to the amber liquor he swirled around in the glass in his hands. Show time. “I..I used Bobby's spell to track you down…y'know…the one we used for Lilith? I didn't think it'd work but..” he shot her an awkward smile, shrugging as he tried to almost seem apologetic for barging in.

He saw visible confusion on her face. “But why..? I thought we agreed to —"

“I know…I know we agreed, I just…” Michael said quickly as he stood up from the couch, pacing around in her living room, pulling the act of nervousness off perfectly. “I just had to see you…I really had to see you.”

He walked off, finishing his drink in one go. After a moment standing dumbfounded in the middle of the room, she followed him into the kitchen.

“I don't understand why you're here after all those years…you promised to let me go, Dean…Why'd you come?” Michael could hear her asking again behind his back as he leaned into the kitchen counter. “Is Sam okay? Are you okay?”

The silence that laid between them after those questions was far too long for her liking.

He then turned back around, facing her as he took a few steps towards her. He reached up to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear, staring down into the worried look on her face. “No, Sam…Sam isn't okay, sadly…and neither is Dean..” He watched as the realization dawned on her face, a slow, cold smile creeping onto his lips as she tried to take small steps backwards away from him, but he couldn't let her get far away. “I warned him this would happen if he kept fighting back to me.”

Now she knew why she had doubted. It was Dean, but it wasn't. She only managed to shake her head in confusion and disbelief. “No! No, Dean, he…he wouldn't do it..he'd rather die before…” The words died on her lips as she choked up quickly. She had believed Dean wouldn't do it. How could she be so wrong about him?

Dean could already feel himself being unable to do anything. He wished more than anything that Michael would just force him back into some make believe dream, locking him away, but Dean knew himself better than that. He wouldn't give up fighting that easily. He knew he'd keep trying to break out.

“So if you have your…vessel already, what do you want from me?” She asked so quietly that her words came out almost without sound.

He closed the distance between them, reaching behind his back to pull out a knife, the blade flashing menacingly in the dim light falling from over the stove. She blinked away the tears that welled in her eyes. “No, I don't have it..not really. You see…Dean is…Dean is fighting. He’s fighting his fate and the only way to make him stop is to break him. Everyone he's ever loved…he's seen them die through a blade in his own hand. Everyone but you, but that's why I'm here…”

Michael reached up to wipe away a rogue tear running down her cheek, hushing her softly. The sound fell from his lips almost mockingly. He looked down at her sympathetically, though the feeling was nothing short of insincere. His hand slid down onto her arm as he held the knife against the soft skin on the inner side of it.

“Why don't you think of this way that I'm saving you so you wouldn't have to watch this earth burn? Isn't that a nicer thought?”

The cold blade cut her skin like it was butter, just a quick action that barely even made her react to the pain. It almost seemed like she had accepted what's about to happen. But the fighter hidden somewhere deep inside her forced her to stumble backwards, to try and find a way out. She had to at least try.

“You shouldn't run, sweetheart, you're only…tch...” He shook his head with a quiet scoff. What a foolish child she was. “You're getting blood all over the place,” he added as he watched her for a moment, seeing the trail of blood trickling onto the carpet, dying it crimson as she tried her best to get away from him.

He couldn't let that happen and went after her in two long strides, pulling her back against his chest, the tip of the knife placed right below her sternum. A warning. It was a hopeless situation she found herself in, with no way to escape, in the arms of a man she loves, knowing this would be the end.

“Dean never stopped thinking about you, you know that, right?” His voice was cruel in her ear. As if trying to make the end even more painful for her. “And I know he's thinking of you right now, too…he begged me, oh, how he begged me to spare you. It was almost pathetic, really. But you're a smart girl, aren't you? You surely know why I can't do that.”

“Please..” a single word fell from her, mixed with tears for herself and Dean. Even now she couldn't help but wonder -

Does he see her right now? Does he feel her body in his arms like in the old times?

The grief that took over her mind was nothing she had ever felt before. She had lost everyone in a matter of minutes.

And she'll lose him, too.

“There, there, sweetheart…your tears aren't going to help you…”

And then it came. That nauseating feeling of pain that would almost make her vomit when the blade sank into her abdomen. In a matter of seconds, she had lost her footing, keeling over onto the floor, the plush rug softening her fall.

“L-let me talk—”

“What - talk to him?” He didn't let her finish, cutting in coldly as he kneeled down beside her. “No, I can't let you do that, sweetheart…but just so you know, and Dean, too, for that matter - I wasn't trying to be the bad guy here but I got tired of a pathetic man trying to stop me and I did what Dean made me do.”

Michael stayed beside her as the light faded in her eyes and only got up after the last spark flickered out, cracking his neck with a wicked smirk.

He could feel himself getting stronger. It was an intoxicating feeling to realize that now he has everything he was destined to have. Dean had gone with her and now there was nothing standing between him and the new world that has no place left for men.

Feedback is appreciated! 🤍

Taglist (always open, lmk if you want to be added/removed):

Away From Danger || Summary: Afraid of what he's become, you try your damndest to hide away from the demon. [deanmon]

Beneath the Surface (Michael!Dean) || Summary: After a rough hunt, you start to notice something is wrong with Dean. His smiles don’t reach his eyes. His touches feel colder. And when you're alone with him in the bunker, the truth hits

Black Forests || Summary: Dean was chasing you, and you had nowhere else to go. [Deanmon]

Blood Stained Hands and a Broken Heart || Summary: Dean thinks he did the right thing when he slaughtered a pack of innocent vampires. You disagree. [Deanmon]

Can't Be You || Summary: you discover Dean isn't human any longer.

Choices || Summary: Torn between fear and love, you try to reach the man you once knew, clinging to the fragile hope that he’s still worth saving. [MOC!Dean]

Demonic Taunts || Summary: The Winchester brothers were psychotic in their own rights…. it seemed as though they’d gotten off on the fact that you were being tortured…. maybe so. [demon reader]

Demons Are a Girl’s Best Friend || Summary: You meet a man one night on your walk home from work. Little did you know this man isn't all human. [deanmon]

Drinks With Demons || Summary: looking for demons doesn’t end to well for you. [deanmon]

Edge of Glory || Summary: Dean taunts you mercilessly. [deanmon]

Ever Play Tag, Darling? || Summary: Ever played tag with adrenaline running through your veins? [deanmon]

Fading Light || Summary: The Mark made Dean into someone you can't even recognize anymore. [MOC!Dean]

I Chose Him For You || Summary: A shifter kidnaps you and teases you about it. [Shifter!Dean]

In the Devil's House || Summary: They told you the house didn’t exist. But you found it anyway. Inside waits what’s left of Dean Winchester—half man, half monster, all hellfire. [Moc!Demon!Serial Killer! Dean]

Losing Control || Summary: You’d never tell a soul where Sam was being tortured. [demon reader]

Monster I Love || Summary: When Dean comes in contact with a demon, he never expects to fall in love with the damn thing. [demon!reader]

Never Again || Summary: he was still normal… right? [DEANMON]

Not The Man I Knew || Summary: you couldnt even recognize him anymore.

Peaceful Endings || Summary: After months of searching for him. you find Dean and convince him to come home

The Price of Love || Summary: you never knew how far-gone Dean had become. [DEANMON]

S.O.S. || Summary: you find out Dean had said yes to Michael after all…[michael!Dean]

Tell Me Your Signs || Summary: he’s always known your tells. You just never knew that. [DEANMON]

What Once Was || Summary: Dean was never coming back to you. Not the way you wanted him to. [DEANMON]

He wishes he could tell her that Hell is not as she imagines, and that mere disbelief is not worthy of a place there. He wishes he could tell her that man created the image of Hell that she so fears, centuries before her time, but a millennia after the writing of that book.

He wishes he could stop the spiral that her mind has set itself to.

Not for the first time, he wonders why her fear sets him on edge.

He supposes that it would be his duty. He'd designated himself the god of this world, and he desires to be the same to her – it is only fitting that he should attempt to be a comfort. That is what humans expect of their gods. The idea fills him with contempt – comforting these humans – and yet, he longs to comfort her.

It is maddening.

He listens, again, to her prayers. He listens to her beg for clarity, for understanding, for peace, and as the night progresses later and later, her heartbeat still racing, her mind still buzzing, she soon only prays for sleep.

It is an impulsive thing that he does then.

He follows the pull of her thoughts, as he so often does. He follows it closer, closer still. Close enough, he is sure, that she must feel it – so near to simply appearing in this vessel of his, yet just on the other side of corporeal, felt but not seen.

For a moment, her fear, her panic, like the hyper-vigilance of some hunted little creature, intensifies. He watches as she sits, still and silent, in her bed. Watches her reach for the pendant around her neck, the one bearing that same, strange sigil that the candle on her altar bears.

He reaches out, slowly, carefully, and rests his hand – still barely more than a figment of the mind, but present nonetheless – on her own.

Her breathing stops entirely.

“Rest.” He commands. It is a command, yes, but not compulsion. Compulsion would not earn her trust – humans feared being forced to do anything. “You are not damned.” He stares at her, watching her shoulders slowly ease. He wonders, idly, if his brother ever had responded to her.

“I am with you.” He says. Briefly, he thinks of the Bible. He thinks of the words written in churches to his Father, of children's books and inspirational script plastered high and proud, words that his Father had never once spoken, but they attributed to him nonetheless:

Be still, and know that I am God.

He wonders if this – the peace that he feels slowly easing over her – is what the words were meant to convey.

Her heartbeat slows. Her breathing hitches, just once, her fingers tightening over the pendant, and his fingers around her own.

She hesitates a moment, and finally eases back against the pillows.

Her mind still circles, but slower now, idle, wandering off of that panicked track, from damnation to Hell to some novel that involves demons and angels and coffee shops. He almost smirks at it, the concept of his brother as a barista, but he is satisfied. She has calmed. He has done what is required of him, by all accounts. He is her God, and he has provided comfort.

It does not make it grate on his nerves any less when she, face pressed halfway into the pillow and her mind slowing to nonsense that no longer makes sense, even to her, whispers:

“Thank you, Lord Lucifer.”

Author's Note: Hi all! I am on a bit of a spiral tonight, so I wrote a little blurb of Michael and Luciferian!Reader to try to process what's going through my brain. Apologies if the format is fucky, I'm on my phone at the moment.