Chapter rewritten on September, 2019.

English is not my first language and the chapter wasn't proofread by Beta, so beware of mistakes.

Chapter II

Be a Good Brother

"Take a shower, too! You need it!"

Dean dropped a towel onto the floor as he exclaimed, "Bitch!" and stuffed it into the gap under the door. Sam's usual, "Jerk!" came a second later. Dean's heart swelled and he broke into a bright grin.

He really loved that kid.

The affirmation of his emotions brought forth a wave of relief. With his two identities still acting as independent personalities, not completely coalesced into one yet, he was worried of his own reaction to Sam Winchester. But it seemed that his Archangel's side approved of his youngest sibling.

Responding to its owner's sudden fierce desire to protect and cherish, the grace inside the amulet pulsed eagerly, intimately familiar warmth trickling through Dean's fingertips into his nerves and bloodstream, but too weak to reach the yawning hole in the center of his thorax.

Dean stared at the amulet, savoring the golden glow that seeped through the physical confines, and wondered how his angelic grace would react to his human soul. Not like the experience of his eons-old existence helped here. As far as Michel knew, he was the only angel bestowed with this great gift.

He might as well spontaneously combust once his grace and soul came into contact, eradicating only his vessel at best and burning a hole in a space-time continuum at worst.

Dean grimaced at the last thought. His Father made plans to destroy the world, but it was doubtful that He was up to the task patching the entire Universe after that kind of massive fuck up, so maybe the worst wouldn't happen. Hopefully.

In some chance it did happen, however, Dean was not getting erased without taking one last shower. His smile returned at the prospect. Pushing the amulet over his head to hang around his neck, he quickly shed his clothes and jumped into the shower to have his fair share of a nice bath after spending forty years in damnation.

Once all the caked-on dirt and grime was scrubbed off his skin, Dean felt no rush to leave just yet. He sat down on the tile floor cross-legged under the stream of warm water and grasped the amulet. Readying himself for whatever consequences his actions would bring, he inhaled deeply, exhaled, and slowly uncurled his fingers, coaxing his grace out as he did.

Divine aureate light illuminated the bathroom as the sliver of the Archangel Michael's essence surged out of the amulet, swirled in the air, and then rushed towards Dean. He closed his eyes, welcoming it in.

No matter how small, it still was the piece of the first Archangel's grace, the strongest being's in existence after the three primordial entities, the embodiment of Michael's power in its rawest form.

Dean expected the suffering, but the rapidly spreading pain still choked the breath from his lungs. It burned; boiled his flesh and bones with absolute brutality. The scorching pain seared through every single vein and capillary as though his blood had become acid, the pure intent of destroying him from the inside out.

Without meaning to, Dean curled into himself and clenched his teeth with the strength that threatened to shatter them, preventing screams from tearing out of his throat.

Rancid heat and putrid smells and sheer agony singed into his mind bled terrifying silhouettes into his eyelids and Dean was in Hell, he was still in Hell, or maybe back in Hell, perhaps he had never left—

Abruptly, the torture ended. The overwhelming pain ebbed away into a sort of sharp throbbing until it ceased completely when Michael's grace slid to its proper place in the middle of the aching emptiness, settling beside Dean's human soul, slotted so perfectly and fittingly in the space next to it as if specifically created for this exact purpose.

No awkward feeling, no abrupt explosion. It felt remarkably good, right in a way that was as mind-boggling as it was awe-inspiring.

Dean let out a long, slow, slightly ragged breath, allowing the feeling of pain to wither away with the last drop of air from his lungs. He pried his hands from his thighs, flexing numb fingers, and tilted his head up. Already cold water continued to beat down on him, soothing and comforting his too hot, too tight skin.

Something pulled at Dean's newly restored angelic senses—though nothing but a puny shadow of his true abilities—and he shifted his focus, keeping his eyes tightly shut.

Souls, he realized, those brilliant sparks of Father's Creation. He was sure he couldn't see them, not yet, but his improved perception could now pick up on their presences in the immediate vicinity around him.

Dean zoomed on the soul in the room behind the wall.

Sam.

He felt it at once. Wrongness that radiated from the kid's soul. Then, wounds. Just small burns, but unbelievably numerous, laced across the entirety of its surface. Still fresh, still sizzling where the unhallowed darkness clung, slowly eating its way into deeper layers towards the core.

There was someone else at Sam's side too. Repulsive and disgusting, all jagged edges and twisted fragments of what was once a human being.

Obviously a demon. Most likely Ruby.

Dean's eyes snapped open, glowing specks of molten gold fading from his green irises. The lights in the bathroom flickered, just a buzz and a dimming before they came back.

A wicked smirk pulled at the corner of the fallen Archangel's lips. He didn't possess enough juice to smite the sly skunk at this moment, but he sure had plenty to scare her shitless.

"Bitch!"

Sam's smile grew bigger. "Jerk!" He stood there for a while, listening to the muted sound of the shower starting up.

Dean was back. His big brother was back and here. Here and not in Hell.

Sam ran his hands down his face and through his hair, unable to wipe off the silly grin that threatened to split his face in two. This knowledge was the most liberating feeling the young hunter had felt in years. Two brothers always were able to go against all odds together, despite how grim or dark circumstances appeared.

And now Dean was back, alive and well.

After a bit, Sam pushed himself to move and sit on the couch, the exit of the room and the door to the bathroom in his sight.

A few minutes later, he stood up, rechecked the salt lines on the windowsills—nothing out of ordinary—and sat down again. With feet bouncing up and down, Sam fidgeted for a couple more moments, then jumped to his feet and made his way towards the small hotel refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of special hunter beer, beer mixed with holy water.

Just a precaution, a routine check, and a way to silence some stupid voice that kept whispering at the back of Sam's mind about something amiss, about how Dean felt off. Of course, his brother was a bit off. He came back from the dead, where he spent four long months in the very depths of Hell, suffering alone through pain and torture and hellfire—

No person could come out of such an ordeal unscathed. Sam truly believed that Dean was who he said he was. He had faith in his older brother, even if his faith in God and his angels had been lost a long time ago.

The young man jumped slightly in surprise when the room door opened and a petite brunette slipped in, smirking coyly at him. "Hey, Sam," she greeted cheerfully, throwing her arms around him. "Missed me?"

Sam put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away, not unkindly but at the same time lacking the previous needy touch to it. "You shouldn't be here, Ruby," he said, careful to keep his voice low. He glanced at the bathroom. The shower was still going. "You should go."

The demon scowled at him, clearly upset by his unexpected rejection. "Giving me a cold shoulder again, Sam?" she asked bitterly. "I thought we're past it."

"Look, it's not—"

"No, you look," Ruby interrupted, shoving a finger to his chest and successfully shutting Sam up. A soft smile curled on her lips as she grasped the hunter's chin between her fingers and forced him to look at her. "I know it's hard for you, baby. I've been with you after Dean died, remember?" she murmured, pressing her body closer, her warm breath ghosting the tender spot where his jaw met his neck. "You came so far now. You have to do it, Sam. Lilith must die at any cost. Did you forget what she did to your brother?"

The lights in the room blinked rapidly several times, dimming momentarily and coming back with a distinct electrical hum.

"Stop that!" Sam hissed, lips thinning out into a tight line as he pushed the demon away once again. The latter opened her mouth to protest that the lights weren't her doing, but Sam was having none of it. "This isn't about Lilith, okay? You should go. I'll call you later and explain."

Ruby stared at him, a shimmer of anger and disappointment displayed openly in her expression. "Fine!" she finally yelled, throwing her arms up in a sign of surrender. "Fine. As you wish, Sam," she said curtly. "Call me once you're done with this little drama of yours and finally ready to—"

"Hello, Ruby."

She froze. Every cell in her vessel came to a grinding halt, every senses and mental alarms instantly going haywire. Ruby spun on her heel, fully prepared to lash out, because whoever, whatever stood behind her posed an extreme threat to her prolonged survival—

"D-Dean?"

The older Winchester leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, arms crossed, wearing only his pants, water droplets running in small rivulets down his bare chest. Green eyes pinned the demon in place with cold efficiency and his smirk was neither friendly nor particularly reassuring.

There was something innately unsettling in Dean's gaze, something that put the hair on the back of Ruby's neck up.

A tacit promise of her inevitable destruction.

A strangely shaped scar on his shoulder caught her attention and her hackles instinctively rose at the sight of it and the purifying energy that still lingered there. Even Dean's soul felt so sickening clean and pure, her guts churned.

Ruby tried to force a smile back on, to show how friendly and eager to help she was, but all she could muster was a grimace. "It's good to see you again, Dean."

Dean cocked one eyebrow up. "Really?" he asked, his grin stretching a tad bit wider. Like that of a big cat's, able to pounce but too lazy to do so. "Can't say I return the sentiment."

"That's… That's alright," Ruby stammered out, expression scrunched up in her great attempt to keep her aversion in check. "I don't expect you to."

Dean sized her up, dark amusement upon his features. It made the demon squirm under his intense scrutiny.

"Good that we're on the same page," the man said in the same light tone that screamed dangerdangerdanger to Ruby's primal survival instincts. "But this ain't roach motel, so, how about you scurry out of here." Definitely not a question, even if structured like one. An order or a threat. "And out of Sam's life while at it."

Ruby couldn't help a small sneer slipping through her meticulously constructed mask. It wasn't supposed to go like this. Dean was supposed to rot in Hell, slowly break, came apart and become only a shell of the person he once was. That was what Hell did to the human souls.

And yet, after spending forty years downstairs, Dean stood tall, stronger and more confident than ever before, watching her like a bird of prey. No doubt, no wavering, not a drop of self-loathing in those steely green eyes.

As if sensing the demon's growing fear, Dean let out a huff that sounded suspiciously like a brief chuckle.

When Ruby snarled at his open mockery, it jerked Sam out of shock seeing the hand-shaped scar on his brother. He made a step in front of the demon, hands rising in a placating manner. "Dean, calm down…" he trailed off, realizing how stupid it sounded. Dean was calm, uncharacteristically so; a perfect picture of calmness. "Look, Dean, just hold on, okay? Let me explain this. Ruby is here to help me—help us. We're trying to find Lilith and kill her."

"We don't need her."

Sam's temper flared like a live volcano, but he swiftly stomped on it and took control, smoothing over the edges that bristled into the existence after Dean's careless dismissal. Blowing up wouldn't help in this situation. His brother didn't know how much Ruby had helped him, from what kind of dark, hopeless pit she had dragged him out even if there was a time when he didn't want to be saved at all. Dean knew nothing of it. And it was better that way.

Sam turned to Ruby. "It's better if you go now, Ruby."

The brunette frowned, not daring to lower her gaze from the older Winchester. "Yeah, it sure looks like—" Her eyes suddenly widened and he took a step back out of reflex. She could swear she saw… No, she thought she saw Dean's eyes flashing gold when he tilted his head slightly to the side. But that was absurd. He was just a human. Room's lighting played tricks on her, Ruby assured herself. "I should go."

"Oh, don't let me keep you," Dean chimed in with the same predatory grin on full display as he performed a dismissive shooing gesture. He made no move to vacate the spot in the bathroom's doorway.

Ruby shuffled carefully towards the exit, taking as wide berth around the older hunter as possible.

"Don't come again."

There. The previous promise of her inevitable destruction rang strongly in Dean's voice this time. It sent chills down the demon's spine and she hurried to skedaddle out of there.

Sam looked lost, not quite sure how to take Ruby's weird behavior and seemingly unable to decide if he should adopt a bitch face or just a general constipated expression. Dean laughed at that. Sure, this little antic would raise his baby brother's suspicion levels, but witnessing this particular demon writhing in fear was so worth it.

"Demons, man," he said with an amused shake of his head, quickly darting inside the bathroom to grab his t-shirt. "She really got freaked out by this thing." He pushed his shoulder with the scar forward, shooting a glance at it himself before pulling a t-shirt over his head.

Sam now had his eyebrows knitted tightly together as he stared at Dean's shoulder. "What is that?"

"No idea," Dean replied flippantly, crossing the room to pick up a beer that he spotted earlier. "If I had to guess, whoever yanked me out of Hell left his mark on me."

"That…" Sam's face sunk into itself with the force of his frown. "That doesn't sound good, Dean."

The other man let a soft 'hmm', plopping carelessly on the couch and taking a gulp out of his beer. "I don't think this is as bad as you're thinking," he argued. He lifted his hand up to stop his brother's lecture that he saw coming from miles away. "I remember him—her—it, whatever... The being that lifted me up. Not a demon or any other evil son of a bitch we know."

"You… You remember Hell?"

Dean blinked at the kid, not expecting him to latch on such a trivial detail. He rolled the bottle between his hands as he stared at Sam, his mind whirling with decisions of how much truth he should tell. "I do," he conceded quietly. "It's not a fun place."

Sam opened his mouth and then shut it with a click of his teeth. "I-I'm sorry, Dean," he uttered, his voice overflowing with unspoken guilt. "I tried everything to pull you out, but no demon wanted to deal. I even tried to open the Devil's Gate. Nothing worked... I—" A hand on his shoulder startled him and his head whipped up to see Dean standing in front of him. "I'm so sorry…"

Dean's eyes softened, expression smoothing out into something gentle and kind. "It's alright, Sammy. I know you did everything you could," he spoke, every word measured with heavy concern and laced with brotherly affection. "I'm here now. I'm fine. So don't think about it anymore."

Sam sniffed, brushing across his face and clearing unshed tears.

Dean smiled at those teary hazel eyes. "You good?"

"Yeah," Sam replied. "I'm good."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Dean sprawled on the couch again and Sam took a seat nearby on the edge of the bed with his own beer in his hand.

"Sam," Dean called after taking a couple of sips from his drink. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. When his little brother glanced at him, he cleared his throat and continued, "I'm sorry too."

"For what?"

"For dying." Dean tipped one shoulder in a shrug, like the reason for an apology wasn't really that important. "For leaving you alone."

Sam studied him for a moment. "It wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't," Dean agreed, "but I'm still sorry for leaving you alone to deal with all this shit. I'm back now, and we're gonna deal with it together." His voice was firm and solid, unyielding. "Like always."

Dean could see the exact moment when his brother worked through his speech and took it to heart, giving a reply of soft, "Okay." The sight of the kid's tense frame relaxing, smile on his tired face widening, back straightening up with his head held high, was nothing short of beautiful.

Michael always was a good little soldier, doing everything his Father had told him without any questions. Wallowing in denials of his own doubts, he pushed Lucifer away over and over again and judged it easier to betray his brother instead of siding with him and offering help, regardless how much he loved him. All because God commanded him to. He didn't even try to understand Gabriel or recognize the corruption gradually budding inside Raphael.

Dean followed the same pattern to a tee. John's little soldier first and foremost. Even when his brother needed his support against the man in order to have a chance at a normal life, to go to college, create a future for himself. Nope. For Dean, dad's orders were above all, no matter how unreasonable they became with time. A shame sat like a chunk of ice in his guts when he recalled seriously considering John's final command at one point.

Well, both Michael and Dean were done being good sons and good soldiers. For once he would be a good brother. He loved Sam too much and this time he would not fail the brother that needed his help and protection.

It wasn't an attempt at redemption—Michael held no hope of earning forgiveness from Lucifer—but simply what he himself wished to do and not someone else compelled him to.

Screw Father's plan! Screw dad's orders!

A/U

I'm extremely satisfied with how this rewrite is coming along. This is such a high improvement of how these first few chapters looked like before. Those who read the old version should see the difference. Those how didn't… well, just know that it's definitely better, haha.

Also, while writing this chapter I accidentally discovered this amazing word 'aureate'. I love when I stumble upon such words. Still, 'skedaddle' is my favorite English word lol

Hope you enjoyed this improved chapter! I'd appreciate if you left some thoughts on it :)