I'm 22 (July 5) and my second nephew has been born.

EARTH
MAY 17, 2007

"Dean. It is so, so good to see you," she purred. She inhaled sharply as she got up close and personal, only a few inches from Dean's face. "I mean it. Look at you. Finally got your family killed, all alone in the world. It's too sweet. You got to give me a moment. Sometimes you gotta stop and smell the roses."

Anger surged in Dean as he turned his head to lock eyes with the punk-ass crossroads demon.

"I should send you straight back to hell."

"Oh, you should, but you won't," she teased. The demon walked around him. "And I know why."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean scoffed, turning to face her.

"Yeah. Following in Daddy's footsteps. You want to make a deal. Little Sammy back from the dead and, let me guess, you're offering up your own soul?"

"There are a hundred other demons out there who'd love it get their hands on it," Dean said, struggling not to lash out as the demon scoffed. He was aware that Hell wasn't a nice place to be, but he couldn't let Sammy rot. He made a promise to John. "And it's all yours. All you got to do bring Sam back. And give me 10 years...10 years and then you come for me."

"You must be joking," the demon scoffed. She raised an eyebrow as Dean's frown deepened.

"That's the same deal you give everybody else."

"You're not everybody else," she explained. She came close to whisper in his ear. "Why would I want to give you anything? Keep your gutter soul. It's too tarnished anyway."

Dean barely nodded. "Nine years."

"No," she said with a smile.

"Eight."

"You keep going, I'll keep saying no," she laughed as she backed up.

Exasperated, Dean sighed. "Okay, five years. Five years and my bill comes due. That's my last offer. Five years or no deal."

Smiling, the demon came back put her face a centimeter in front of Dean's, as if ready for a kiss. Dean sored with hope. Maybe she'd let him off. Give him half a decade with Sam.

"Then no deal," she whispered.

"Fine," Dean said, hardly believing it.

"Fine," she said, walking around him to leave. "Make sure you bury Sam before he starts stinking up the joint."

Dean couldn't take it anymore. He'd do anything now. This was for Sammy. "Wait..."

The demon stopped in her tracks. "It's a fire sale, and everything must go."

"What do I have to do?" Dean pleaded.

"First of all, quit groveling," she suggested with annoyance. "Needy guys are such a turnoff." She sighed. "Look...Look, I shouldn't be doing this. I could get in a lot of trouble. But what can I say? I got a blind spot for you, Dean. You're like a...puppy. You're just too fun to play with." She sighed again. "I'll do it."

"You'll bring him back?" Dean asked, hope flowing through him again.

"I will. And because I'm such a saint, I'll give you one year, and one year only." She stepped closer to him, faces inches apart again. "But here's the thing. If you try and welch or weasel your way out, then the deal is off. Sam drops dead. He's back to rotten meat in no time. So...It's a better deal than your dad ever got. What do you say?"

Just before Dean could grab the crossroads' demons head and lock lips with her to seal the deal, she started to choke. Dean stepped back as the demon pawed at her throat. Her red eyes rolled to the back of her vessel's head, blood coming out of her nose. Dean stood in horror, unable to move. What could do this to a demon? Was ol' Yellow Eyes killing her from a distance for making a deal with a Winchester? Or was it something, much, much worse, the stuff nightmares are made of?

That was when she smoked out. Candy red smoke billowed out of her mouth. The cloud swirled in the air almost to form into a tornado as the demon's vessel dropped to the floor. The wind pushed against Dean, threatening to knock him over. Dean shielded his eyes as yellow flames consumed the smoke, turning it into white vapor.

Dean lowered his arm to stare at a pitch black sky. Dean looked around until his eyes laid upon the form of the woman he had almost made a deal with. Kneeling on one foot, Dean reached down for a pulse. He felt a faint one when a voice boomed in his ears.

She's alive.

Before Dean could even register someone, or something, had spoken, the nickel-plated Beretta 92 pistol loaded with silver bullets was in his hand. He swung the weapon everywhere, finger on the trigger, ready to blow a hole in any monster or person that came near him. He had just lost his brother and now his only chance at bringing him back. He was not in the mood for Joker-Batman games.

"Who are you?! Show yourself!" Dean screamed. "I'm not in the mood for bullshit!"

Dean's vision turned white from the sky. That ringing in people's ears that was annoying as hell started buzzing in Dean's ears...loudly. Eventually, the white light and the noise was too much for him. The gun dropped to the ground and Dean placed his hands on his ears, trying to block out all the commotion but to no good.

Dean Winchester.

"What the hell?"

Do not fear. For I am not a demon. Or a monster.

Dean screamed as his ears started to bleed. As if finally registering his pain, the white noise began to decrease, at least in volume. It still had the same whining pitch but only enough to still annoy him. Dean was able to stand up right. The white noise spoke.

Dean Winchester.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean asked, wiping blood out of his ears and nose. "Well...what are you?"

I am Michael.

"Michael?" Dean asked, looking around. "Michael who?"

Michael, the Archangel of the Lord.

"Get the hell outta here. There's no such thing."

A white light appeared a few yards in front of him. Then a long brown haired man appeared before him. He manifested himself the same way Sam described the vengeful spirit of that priest did some months ago.

'Michael', if that's who he really was, didn't look like the angels the American media portrayed them as with white robes, harps and halos. This one looked like a bronze armored firepower-out-the-ass Goliath warrior type. He wore bronze armor like those of the Romans (yes, nipples included). He wore sandels and had bronze plating on his lower legs with a dark tunic covering his waist and upper legs. His bronze gauntlets shown in the moon light. Dean guessed the gauntlets carried a whole bunch of gadgets, maybe even poison darts, if he was the Batman kind of guy. His Anakin Skywalker-like brown hair reached down to his shoulders. He stood at six foot five inches.

That is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.

Suddenly, lightning flashed. On Michael's back, great shadowy eagle-like black wings appeared, stretching off into the distance. The light went out and the wings disappeared.

"Some angel you are. You almost killed this woman!"

Yes, I admit I was a bit reckless but she is alive and will be fine. My power can be over whelming to humans. So can my real voice. But you already knew that.

"You mean that white noise? That was you...talking?"

Michael nodded.

"Buddy, next time lower the volume, would ya?"

That was my mistake. Some special people can perceive my true visage and voice. I thought, for a moment, you were one of them, due to our connection. I was wrong. It won't happen again.

"Wait. What connection?" Dean demanded, his nostrils flaring. "What do you want? What do you want with me?"

I'm here to stop you from making a grave mistake and the worst sin ever.

"That is the gayest thing I have heard."

Hmm. You're not the first to say that, Michael laughed.

Dean snarled. If there were angels, then there was a God. And if that was true, then Dean had a bone to pick with Him. Letting people die in such horrible ways, especially the Holocaust, Columbine and 9/11. And allowing people like George W. Bush, Saddam Hussein, Osama bin Laden, Ann Coulter, and Donald Trump exist. Donald Trump and Bush, worst of all. Either this God was sadistic and got off on human suffering in dickishness in the case of the mentioned celebrities, or He just didn't give a damn about those He created. Dean could feel Michael's deep sadness.

Yes, I know how you feel. We aren't allowed to interfere. God has not allowed us to walk the earth since Christ's birth. Why? You and your brother's role in the world is far larger than you can imagine. But I have seen what will occur, and I cannot let that happen.

"Yeah, okay," Dean said but he didn't have a damn clue what he was talking about.

I sense your confusion. Know that I didn't come to you randomly, Dean. I'm here to stop you from initiating the end of world.

"Wait, what? How does making this deal make the world end?" Dean asked. Michael waited a moment before continuing.

Your deal and your subsequent damnation to hell is the first step towards the Apocalypse, Dean. For it is written 'The first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in Hell.'"

"Uh...I'm sorry, you lost me."

Everyone in Hell gets tortured. And eventually, they will break and join the dark side. Demons are trying to get 66 of 600 seals broken. If you go to hell, you will eventually break and torture other souls. This is the breaking of the first seal.

"Okay, I'm guessing that's not a show at Seaworld...Why break the seals? What purpose does that serve?"

To you humans, you think of these seals as locks on a door.

"Okay, last one breaks and...?"

Michael looked away for a moment, then looked at Dean again. Lucifer breaks free and walks the Earth.

Dean's eyes opened a bit more. "Lucifer, as in the Devil? Satan? I thought Lucifer was just a story they told at Demon Sunday School...There's no such thing."

5 minutes ago, you thought there was no such thing as me.

Dean nodded. Michael had a point.

Dean, how else do you explain the existence of all the things you hunt? If what atheists say is true, that there is no God and you humans are just bags of chemicals in a sucky world, then how do things like demons, ghosts, vampires, ghouls and witches' powers exist? And Lucifer is the one who rules Hell.

Dean again nodded. Again, Michael had a point. Now that he thought about it, it made sense. Things like demons, vampires and ghosts would only exists if there was a Higher Power that allowed them to roam the earth. Dean had sent Meg, a demon, back to hell. Twice. So maybe that meant there was a Heaven, too. Heaven for the good souls, Hell for the damned ones. For death, there was a equal and opposite destination for the souls of the departed.

Dean, answer me this. Why do you think we're walking among you after 2,000 years.

Dean thought for a moment. "To stop Lucifer..."

Michael nodded. That's why we're here.

"Well, bang up job so far. Stellar work with ol' Yellow Eyes."

I understand your grief. Dean, we tried to stop him. But there are other battles. Some we'll win. Some we'll lose. This one we lost. We are not unlimited. Angels aren't completely indestructible. There's a bigger picture here.

"And what is that?"

We'll get to that soon. For now, I need your help.

"How?"

You're my true vessel.

"What?"

I need you to agree to be my vessel. Allow me to possess you.

"Vessel? Possess?"

Angels cannot walk the truth without possessing a human vessel, just like demons. However, unlike demons, I need your permission to possess you. However, very few humans can withstand possession by archangels like me. The only reason you see me now is because you are my true vessel. And I want to keep you out of hell. With you as a vessel, I will save the world.

"Uh...how are you gonna do that? And why wait?"

I'm an Archangel. I have my ways. And I had to wait until you were strong enough.

Dean looked to his feet. His mind raced. "If I agree to be your meat suit, you gotta bring Sam back. You bring my brother back or no deal."

Michael smiled.

"You can bring Sammy back, right?" Dean queried. "If you really are who you say you are. No offense, but I've never been a big believer in angels."

Of course I can bring back your brother. I wouldn't be here otherwise. Your wish is my command. All you have to do is say yes.

Dean's mind raced again. This was it. He was really gonna do it. Be a vessel. Allow someone to posses him. But at least it wasn't a demon. And it was to bring Sam back. If Sam was still kicking around he'd tell Michael to stick it where the sun don't shine. But Judgement Day was a runaway train. He understood that now. He just wanted off. And his brother back.

Dean took a deep breath.

"Yes."

Michael closed his eyes and raised his head back. The white light erupted from his...body. Dean shielded his eyes as the light blinded him and that white noise deafened him. The ground shook as the specter of Michael entered him, through his chest. Surprisingly, Dean felt no pain. No burning pain going down his throat. It actually felt...peaceful. When it was all done, Dean felt at peace. No pain nor sorrow nor anger.

Before Dean knew what hit him, he was back at the house they had Sam's body in. Dean/Michael approached the bed Sam was laying on. Dean prayed that he'd see the rise and fall of his brother's chest, so maybe he could back out his deal with Michael.

Michael moved Dean's right arm towards Sam's head, touching two fingers to his forehead. Dean felt immense power surge through his body, transferring from his head to his arm, to Sam.

Sam's eyes shot open as he breathed in his first breath in a sharp gasp. Sam tried to sit up, but his aching body protested. Michael gave control of Dean's body back to him. Dean knelt down and held Sam up.

"Woah, woah. Easy, tiger."

"Dean?" Sam gasped.

"Welcome back, Sammy," Dean greeted, smiling weakly.

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