sam winchester (bornunder) wrote in thedisplaced, @ 2018-03-03 18:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, michael, sam winchester |
WHO: Sam Winchester & Michael the Architect
WHAT: having another conversation in person, after this
WHEN: February 15th ish? Fairly backdated.
WHERE: Michael's (and Max Goof's) room
WARNINGS: pretty tame actually. Sam didn't even end up being threatening.
It was a relief to finally have a location. Even more, to have more information about Michael. Sam had not been wrong to be suspicious of him - not that he’d ever doubted his gut feeling, but others had.
He had made a promise to Max that he wouldn’t do anything but talk, but that didn’t mean he was going into this defenseless. He had his demon knife and a small bottle of holy water in his jacket, just in case. But in his hands, he had a hot chocolate, which he hadn’t even spiked, because again, he’d made a promise.
He knocked on the door, holding the hot chocolate. “Hey, Michael, you in there? It’s Sam. I brought you something to cheer you up.”
--
Michael had a quality about him. When he was cheerful and happy, he had a magic glint in his eye that would have competed with Jolly Ole St. Nick any day. But when he was sad or frustrated, there was an innocent childlike quality that he radiated. Combined with his wise but approachable old man exterior, it was hard not feel like somewhere a puppy had been kicked.
The ridiculous hooded sweatshirt he wore over his clothes didn’t soften that feeling either. If anything, it made it worse.
Michael cracked open the door to his room and peeked through. “Why?” he pouted. “Everyone hates me and I’m a no good dumb dumb.”
--
Sam did feel sympathy, but it was tempered by the fact that Michael had still refused to do anything to make it right. He could be as pathetic as he wanted, but Sam wasn’t going to lose sight of his purpose. He had seen a similar act from Gabriel before, pretending to be an innocent bystander when Sam and Dean were threatening him into stopping the time loop. Of course, it also helped that he had changed his appearance completely, unrecognizable to the Trickster they’d seen before.
“You know what’s good for that?” he asked, putting on a slight smile. If Michael really was upset, this just might work. If he was just being manipulative, well then, two could play that game. Sam proffered the steaming cup in his hands, and added, “Hot chocolate.”
--
“You… brought me hot chocolate?” Michael was stunned. It wasn’t completely an act, either. Mostly he was used to dealing with dirt bags. Good humans, even marginally good humans, were still sort of an anomaly to the demon. The door opened a little wider and he sniffed at the air a little, as if trying to decide if it was safe.
“No one has ever brought me anything before,” Michael said. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Other demons frequently brought Michael things, but usually they weren’t pleasant gifts. Demon humor, and all. Michael had always been picked on for his radical ideas about torture.
“Thank you, Sam. That is… That is really nice of you.” While he wanted to be suspicious, he couldn’t. Michael the Angel wouldn’t be suspicious. But he supposed if there was something bad in it, he could act accordingly. Gingerly, he took the mug as though afraid of it (and maybe he was a little).
“...And I… sip this down my food hole?” Michael clarified.
---
“Yes,” Sam answered, nodding. And he hadn’t even spiked it, even though that had been his first instinct. He really did want to try to play the nice card better first.
And as far as he could tell, Michael seemed genuinely pleased with the gift. Sam was watching his face, observing his reaction to the chocolate. He shrugged, and was about to say something pre-packaged and trite in response, but then the question got an actual laugh out of him. It was precisely the kind of thing a celestial being with no knowledge of human food and drink would say.
“Yes,” he said again, and this time his grin was genuine amusement. “You sip it down your food hole. I’d say do it carefully, but you probably aren’t too sensitive to temperature, I’m guessing.” Since the mug was out of his hands, he put his hands in his pockets. He pressed his lips together, but the corners still curved slightly upward. “Can I come in? Or - would you rather come out here and go somewhere? That’s fine with me too.”
--
“So weird,” Michael muttered. Opening the door wide, Michael let Sam into his room. It looked unlived in. Michael didn’t really need to sleep or do any of the things normal people did. He just sort of existed in it. It was as if given the chance, he was as likely to collect dust as anyone else. “I guess I’m just a little shy about going out. My good people lessons were a complete failure. I’m not certain how to get more basic than stealing is bad. I shudder to think what would happen if I tried to explain murder is wrong.”
He sighed heavily. Very carefully, he put the mug to his lips and took a small sip.
“...This is actually pretty good.”
And he took another sip.
“It’s hopeless. I know it’s cheating to try and interfere and help people reach The Good Place, but how am I supposed to understand mortals better? How do I make my neighborhoods 104 percent perfect? Should I try pacing? I hear humans do that sometimes. Do you think walking back and forth anxiously would help?”
---
Sam entered, and spent a moment looking around, although he kept Michael in his peripheral vision. He was unsurprised to see that it looked like a standard ship room, no personal touches. He had lived like this himself, and he didn’t even have Michael’s excuse, and he had watched Cas live like this even longer. God, he missed Cas.
“Here’s the thing,” he said, “If I had to give you the most basic, but most important advice about humans, it’s that you have to let them be humans. The Good Place and Bad Place exist as punishments for whatever we do in our lives, right? And it’s pretty important that we have the free will to make the choices that will put us in one place or the other. Some people just aren’t going to believe you, and others aren’t going to care, and still others do care and do believe you but already feel that they’re a lost cause or that it’s not really worth trying.” He shrugged. “Humans are always more complicated than any other being tends to expect, angelic or demon or anything in between. You’re far from the only one who’s had this problem.”
He moved over to the couch, and sat down. “Once you understand that, you can stop beating your head against the wall trying to get people to change, and just focus on building great neighborhoods for those of us who make it there. Try to figure out what good people like, what they’d want to see in the Good Place.”
--
Michael had not been expecting this. He hadn’t expected Sam to try. He had been counting on Sam attempting to hurt or threaten him so that Michael could cry or shut down emotionally and generally just continue to make everyone miserable.
Quite frankly, he was not equipped to deal with kindness.
So he sipped on his hot chocolate and thought very carefully how he should deal with this particular situation. It was good to think about. Clearly, none of the the trashbags he dealt with in The Bad Place would ever show compassion or empathy like this. But then, Jason had been acting odd, hadn’t he? Michael could learn from this. He resolved himself that he would do almost exactly as Sam said. He’d learn what people hated and make it possible in the Bad Place.
“Perhaps you’re right,” Michael said sagely, nodding his head. “Thank you, Sam. Thank you so much for this talk. I appreciate you counsel and experience in this matter.”
---
Sam really hadn’t expected it to go this easily, either. He had been convinced, by the varying responses to his network post, that he should at least try one more time to do this the friendly way. But he had not expected it to work. He had expected to have to threaten Michael in order to get him to listen, and even then, he wasn’t sure that would work. Because right now, his threats were empty.
But, he reminded himself, it had not actually worked. Michael was being agreeable, but he had still not done anything to remove his punishment on Quentin, to put his mistake - if it was a mistake, which Sam still doubted - to rights.
“You’re welcome,” he said, after a moment. “So, you’re going to try? To learn about us without interfering? No more punishments?”
That was the biggest thing he wanted. He wanted Quentin’s punishment gone, but he also wanted Michael’s word - even if it was a lie - that he wasn’t going to do anything like it again. Quentin could live with his if he had to, even if Sam didn’t want him to, but Sam was concerned that the next punishment would be worse. And he also wanted Michael’s word on it, so that if he went back on it, then Sam would have something to bring to everyone else.
--
“Punishment?” Michael frowned at the word, and then sighed. “I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree on that. I would never intentionally harm any of you. I do care about your well being, even if I suppose I’m not very good at showing it.”
He had such a reassuring look, free of malice. A gentle demeanor, a twinkle in his eye. It was not cold, like the angels from Sam’s world. It was not free of empathy, either. He was different from those creatures. It was just hard to see how different, exactly.
“Hm. What if, next time I have a question, I ask you first? How does that sound, Sam?” Because then, depending on how the angel sold it or if the hunter just happened to be busy, the fallout would be his fault.
---
“Interference, then,” Sam said, when Michael disagreed with the word he’d chosen. “Well-intentioned, but still problematic. And I still think you should lift it, since I spoke to Quentin, and he told me that he didn’t actually ask for your help.”
He was getting into the stuff that Michael had resisted him on before, and he could already sense a little bit of resistance, albeit voiced in a different way. Everything about his demeanor suggested that the celestial being, or whatever he was, wanted to be helpful, and yet Sam had a feeling he was still going to come up against that impasse.
“You’re welcome to ask me questions anytime,” he agreed. “But more importantly, I want you to actually make sure the people you’re trying to help are agreeing to be helped. When they agree just to make you leave them alone, it doesn’t actually mean they want your help. It means they want you to leave them alone.”
--
“Sam,” Michael stated gently, but firmly. “You and I both know that sometimes it is appropriate to help people who don’t want it. That’s why intervention exists.”
He gently held up his hands to stop Sam’s protest before it could begin.
“I understand I may not be the expert on when taking that level of action may be appropriate. That’s why I promise to run my ideas through you first. As long as you’re okay with that.”
---
“Only when they’re doing harm to themselves or others,” Sam said. “Those are the only times that intervention is appropriate. Otherwise, all you can do is offer, and accept no for an answer.”
He felt like Michael had been too easily convinced; based on their earlier conversation, it really felt like this had gone too easily. But even though he thought it over carefully, he couldn’t see any harm in agreeing to that promise. If Michael ran things by him, hopefully he would be able to talk Michael out of anything that would be problematic.
“Okay,” he said, after a moment. “Sure. Run things by me first.”
--
“Thank you, Sam.” Michael said, putting a hand over where a human heart might be on his chest. “This has been extremely enlightening.”
Secretly, however, Michael wondered if the hunter would be trickier than he thought.