Who: Dean (narrative) with bonus archangel Michael What: Michael tries new tactics Where: Dean's head and his living room When:Backdated to when Ben was at Sam/Ruby's the other day Rating: Lowish.
"I'm growing impatient," Michael says, and he's said it a million times before, but this time it's different because this time, Dean almost isn't sure if he's dreaming or awake, if this is real or if it isn't - if it's Michael or Ben standing in front of him. The clothes are the same as the last thing he saw Ben wearing (Michael doesn't usually pay attention to detail, picks whatever he wishes to be seen in almost at random) and he's holding, loose at his side, the shotgun Dean had given him, the shotgun he told Ben to take with him to Sam and Ruby's place so he could practice on the targets they've got set up, if Sam or Ruby would be out there with him.
"Yeah?" Dean is grasping at the last bit of control he has, now, trying to avoid panicking or flipping out and shooting what might be Michael and what might be Ben, and he manages to wrangle in his tone a little bit, makes it less venom and less confusion and instead something bland and neutral. "What do you want me to do about that?"
"Dean," and it's not Ben, it's not his kid, it's something other, something angelic in his skin (it's pretending to be in his skin, it doens't really have Ben, Ben is fine, safe in the wards at Sam and Ruby's house, he doesn't even know he's a possible vessel, it's fine). "If I cannot have you, I will choose another."
"You can't have him."
"I can. I will." Now the shape changes. It's Lisa - and the angel spreads his hands, spreads her hands, "I just have to give him what he wants. He wants his mother back, Dean - he will do whatever I ask him to do, if he knows he will see her again. I can give him that."
"He won't do it," Dean tries, lamely, even though there's a growing pit of panic in his gut, "He's not stupid. He won't trust you."
"Like this?" Lisa's laugh rings out, and the angel crosses his arms. "Dean, come on. You know he will do anything I ask him to do. Wouldn't you?" Here, the shape shifts, the colors soften and blur and then it's Mom standing there, instead. "You still miss her, every day. If you didn't have some bizarre loyalty to what you believe is right - wouldn't seeing her again be worth giving in?"
Dean has no answer.
The shape changes again, back to Ben.
"This isn't the vessel I would prefer, Dean. But time is growing short. I will take what I can get."