Work Text:
As usual in these situations, Dean managed to say it best. Sam’s version was a complete stuttery mess of three syllables, one of which he stumbled over, and then derailing. Dean only used three syllables too, but in his case, “What the FUCK?!” was probably all he really intended to say.
Michael cleared his throat, but otherwise completely ignored Dean to focus all of his attention on Sam. “Do you not remember any of this? You should. The trigger phrase I implanted in 1978 should have unlocked those memories. You…”
“Excuse me, I say again, what the FUCK.” Dean forced his way between Sam and Michael, breaking their eye contact and giving Sam a moment to try to clear his head. “You saying you Winter Soldiered my little brother? Five years before he was even born?”
Michael frowned, looking at Dean. “I don’t understand that reference. This was when the two of you traveled back in time to 1978. From your perspective, that can hardly be far enough back to have forgotten, surely.”
“Cas still hasn’t woken up from that trip, you…” Dean turned and stared at a thump behind him.
The thump had been caused by Sam hitting his knees, reaching for his head. The pain was different from the old pain of the demon-induced visions, but still every bit as strong as he remembered as images flashed in front of his eyes.
The August Sam turned five, he’d expected to be enrolled in kindergarten. After all, every time he asked, Dean and Dad both said he could go to school the fall after he turned five. He asked Dad about it when he realized August was nearly over, and Dad told him that the school in the area they were in wouldn’t start until after Labor Day in September. Sam was eagerly counting down, marking off days on a calendar like Dean had showed him for how to figure out how long until Dad was supposed to be back.
Then they moved. Dad took Dean up to the school and got him enrolled in 4th grade, but didn’t say anything about Sam, and Dean was obviously lying when he said that since Sam’s birthday was so close to the end of the year the school told John to wait and enroll him the next fall. That made no sense.
Dean was at school, Dad was out researching, and Sam, as always, was stuck in the motel room waiting for one of them to get home. It sucked. He was lonely. Aside from Dean, he’d never been allowed to have friends. What if he made one up for himself?
…Dad would probably try to kill it if Sam believed in it hard enough to do any good, really.
“Good thing he can’t kill me,” a voice said, causing Sam to fall out of bed. The man to whom the voice belonged reached out, keeping Sam from hitting the ground and gently putting him back. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to scare you. My name is Michael. I could feel your loneliness.”
Sam had forgotten Michael almost as soon as he’d left, but the comfort had remained from having him there to play games and tell stories.
“I don’t get it. I really don’t,” Sam complained as he sat alone in his room, knees pulled up to his chest as he sat in the bed where he’d lost his virginity. “Seriously, what was the point of that?”
He jumped as a voice answered from across the room, the bed that would normally have been Dean’s except that Dean was out with a girl. Because, apparently, Dean liked this sort of thing. “In this case, the point was ensuring that you wouldn’t wake up tomorrow vulnerable to the types of monsters who care about this sort of thing.”
“Who…” It didn’t really matter, and Sam was on his feet with a gun trained on the intruder before he could get another word out. “Explain yourself.”
“My name is Michael. We’ve met before.” Michael smiled. “Which is why you’re not going to shoot. You don’t remember me, exactly, but you know I’m here to help you.”
As much as Sam wanted to shoot him just to prove him wrong… he couldn’t. Because Michael was right. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but the man felt trustworthy. “That still doesn’t answer what you’re doing here.”
“I come see you any time you start feeling the way you’re feeling. Like you need someone to talk to who will listen. Now that you’ve outgrown Sully…”
Sam swallowed hard. “So… is everyone just lying about it? Or am I just bad at sex?”
“Those are both far too reductive a view.” Michael smiled as Sam lowered the gun. “For people like your brother, sex without an emotional connection or relationship is just fine. It would seem that you’re not the type, which is just another way of being normal, but it doesn’t mean anyone’s lying about it. And then I don’t know what your skill level is, but why would you expect to be good at it the first time you tried? She didn’t know any different either, and it’s not like she was disappointed when she left.”
That was good to know, at least. “But how do I get better at it if it’s gonna feel weird because I don’t have that emotional connection?”
Michael shrugged. “There are ways. Get to know your body and what feels right for you, for starters. Then when the time comes, you’ll at least have some idea what to watch for. When you do find someone you have that connection with, communicate with them about your lack of experience. If they don’t understand, they’re probably not really right for you anyway.”
Meeting Jessica had been one of the best days of Sam’s life. Losing her was one of the worst, even though it brought Dean back into his life. Dean was out, giving Sam some space to cope by hitting the bar on his own. So the arms wrapping around him and pulling him in tight as he stood staring at the shower were startling, although the intended comfort was obvious. “Hello, Michael.”
“Sam.” Michael’s hand went to Sam’s hair, running through it. “You remembered me?”
“Not… exactly?” Sam blinked, trying to figure out how to explain. “It just came out. I have no idea who you are, not really.”
“We’ve met, quite frequently. Every time, I block your memory, because me showing up changes the timeline if I don’t.” Michael held him a little tighter. “I’m sorry about Jessica. I can’t change the timeline, not in any significant way, or I would have saved her somehow.”
Sam nodded. He couldn’t say why, but he believed Michael. There really wasn’t much more to say, so Sam just let himself take comfort from Michael’s strength and concern. It lasted until Michael disengaged. “Dean will be back any minute, so I have to go. I suspect you won’t see me again, not until it’s safe for you to remember everything. I hope the flood of memories isn’t too much, my love.”
Michael was gone before Sam could ask what he meant by that, and a moment later, he couldn’t even remember what it was he wanted to ask – or who he wanted to ask it of. Probably some sort of questioning God why he could allow this to happen to Jessica.
Once Sam’s head had cleared, he reached out a hand to touch Michael’s shoulder where he knelt in front of him. “Yes.”
“Hang on a moment,” Dean shouted. “Sam, what the hell?”
Sam rolled his eyes and hauled himself to his feet. “Wrong way, Dean, Michael’s from Heaven. He is specifically trying to keep me out of Hell by falling for some kind of trap or having to take a desperate gamble and let Lucifer use me as a meat suit. I’m the only one on Earth who can handle Lucifer’s power, so if I’m off the table, so is the Apocalypse.”
“And marrying Michael is somehow the answer? Marrying the dickbag who helped kick all this off?” Dean turned to Michael, arms crossed, daring him to deny it. “You wanted this to happen so you could kill your brother, be a good son like daddy wanted. Now you want me to believe you want so badly to stop this that you’re gonna marry Sammy if that’s what it takes, which, by the way, not getting how that helps!”
“An angelic binding will bind me to him in a way that no other angel can interrupt, and any other angel who wants me has to get Michael’s permission as well as mine,” Sam explained. “Lucifer can trick or threaten or coerce me all he wants, he can’t pull that shit on Michael, and Michael will never allow him to take me.”
“This dick doesn’t believe in free will, Sam,” Dean snapped. “You really wanna tie yourself to that?”
“Okay, for starters, if that means the Apocalypse doesn’t happen, that I’ve fixed the huge mess I made last year?” Sam shook his head. How was this even a question? “Absolutely I’ll do whatever it takes. It’s not like Michael’s going to take me up to Heaven and lock me in some gilded cage, or kill me. He’ll help us deal with Lucifer and find a way to either lock him up again or kill him ourselves.”
“There’s also that when I resurrected Sam, I saw into his heart and soul,” Michael said. “I was wrong about him, and I was wrong about free will. Nothing else could have overcome Azazel’s work, but he did. Between the strength that took and the similarity to the little brother I loved so much, is it a surprise that I would want to save him? This will save him. Honestly, I’m surprised Castiel didn’t suggest trying this himself.”
“Sam is the true vessel of an archangel,” Castiel’s voice rasped out. Sam turned to grin at him. It was great to see that he would recover. “Had I tried, Lucifer could simply have overpowered the claim, and he would not have been gentle about it to spare Sam.”
Michael winced, and Sam shuddered. He could only imagine what Lucifer would do to him if he could, if someone had tried this intimate a measure of keeping him away from the devil. “Dean, all this does is make it so that no angel can use me as a vessel without both Michael’s consent and mine. It doesn’t stop me from riding with you, I think we can both agree that with my luck with hookups it’s just as well if I don’t…”
“Sam, you know it’s not going to stop you, if you want to find a partner more familiar to you,” Michael interrupted. “That’s not how this works at all, and you didn’t choose this marriage because of any great love for me.”
“No, but I kinda want to try this?” He braced for Dean to erupt, but Dean didn’t. He just rolled his eyes and looked away. “I know you’re busy and all, but if you can come around once in a while for dates… I think we have something here.”
“I agree, Sam.” Michael reached out. “In that case, with your permission, I will change my delivery of the claim on your soul.” Sam nodded, waiting expectantly as Michael closed the distance between them to press a kiss to Sam’s lips. The kiss was made all the more magical by the fact that he could literally hear angels singing the news that Michael had laid claim to Sam as mate.