Who? Dean Winchester and a certain voice in his head Archangel What? Solitary Confinement: bad for Winchesters, great for the Heavenly Host! (Also known as Dean is more crazy than we thought, holy crap why is he calling himself Michael now?) Where? Solitary cell/room When? About 24 hours after this goes down. Rating? Mild Status: Complete / Narrative
Solitary is one of the worst places for Dean Winchester to wake up. For a moment, drug-hazy and disoriented, he thinks he’s back in hell, they got him, somehow they pulled him back, and he’s on his feet, beating at the door of the room to get out, he has to get out, he can’t do this again - but then everything comes back to him, an overwhelming rush of imagesmemoriesthoughts that makes him dizzy, and he sinks to the floor, back to the door and presses his hands to his eyes, turns the white room black for a moment.
Let me in, Dean. There’s still time to fix this mess you’ve made.
That had been the plan, hadn’t it? Kill Ruby - or at least try - and then say Yes, let the archangel at the back of his mind in, let him take over and fix everything and hope he came back, in the end, hope there was something left to come back to, hope Michael didn’t have plans to destroy Sam in his effort to destroy Michael, hoping Jo wouldn’t be pissed at him for the whole thing.
In here, there’s nothing to do to get away from Michael’s overpowering presence, the press of his influence and the words that drift through his head. It looks like they hadn’t taken the time to do much more than throw him in here - just his journal and a pen (one of the cheap plastic ones that any loony would have a hard time offing themselves with) and the bed, and he has nothing to write, there’s no one and nothing here to offer distraction, to delay the inevitable, and he stays where he is, curled in tight with his back pressed to the door and he lets the archangel inside with a silent, defeated yes.
Michael’s first breath in this new vessel hurts. Dean Winchester’s body is stressed - from the ordeal he’d put himself through, probably, or maybe from Michael’s foreign presence - and his chest is tight. His whole body feels tight, stiff. This will take some getting used to, he’s sure - he’s had other vessels before, but they’d been far more willing, and it had been many, many years since he’d last had need of one. Michael stands, stretching and rolling his vessel’s shoulders, neck, wrists. Curling fingers and bending arms and legs and hoping that would alleviate some of the tightness.
It does, a little. The physical tightness, at least, though the feeling of being crushed into a shape he was not meant for is ....unpleasant, but he is sure that will fade, with time. And if all goes as planned, he will not have to be here long enough for that - Dean Winchester will not be a permanent shell. As soon as Lucifer is defeated, he can return Home, and Dean Winchester can return to his life, such as it is.
Dean’s presence inside is ...unfortunate. He had expected the vessel to be empty when he came inside - usually when a vessel’s soul surrenders to him, he ensures that it is sent to Heaven, for safekeeping, for a reward. Some angels do not do this, he knows, but he has always done so - which is why he’s more than a little surprised to feel Dean’s soul inside, shifting around restlessly. Pushing at him does nothing, wasted effort, so he decides he will let it be, for now. His powers must be dampened by the drugs in this body’s system - once they fade, he will be fine.
He sits down on the bed, picking up Dean Winchester’s journal, paging through. Few entries are anything of interest to him, but the idea of recording his thoughts is... intriguing. Dean clearly expresses some disdain for the idea, both in his writing and in the little spike of his presence, though the latter may be because Michael is reading what he’d written - but Dean is not of importance anymore, and Michael picks up the pen and begins to record his own thoughts.
Waiting is something Michael is accustomed to. He has endless patience, when he knows there is nothing he can do about the wait. Time passes slowly, in or out of a vessel, and Michael has been around since before this planet was created. He is used to waiting. His time waiting now is spent writings or in prayer. His powers are muted and dull, if they’re there at all, and that makes him uneasy. He is sure it must be a test of his faith, and it’s a test he plans to pass.