abraxaslogs | [Closed]

The diner has become something of a refuge, for Michael. When he grows tired of Solvunn, irritated with its old gods and their constant presence in the thoughts and words of locals, he retreats to this corner of his domain. Being nearer the Singularity does not necessarily put him further away from the gods—if there is anyone who knows for certain the nature of the relationship between the gods and the Singularity, it hasn't reached his ears—but at least his domain is free of offerings and shrines.

Apart from the church, that is. That doesn't count.

He won't get to keep thinking of his domain as a safe place if estranged relatives keep wandering in, though. First Lucifer, and now his son.

Michael rises from the same booth along the wall that he always occupies when he's here. For a moment, all he does is look taken aback. Throwing out his wings in threat wouldn't do much. This isn't truly a face to face meeting, it's merely the Horizon: no harm they might do to one another here will have any real meaning. Besides, they've met before, whether Jack remembers it or not. It hadn't gone so bad. The boy is not his father.

"Jack," he ventures, tone unavoidably guarded but not hostile. "So even a nephilim is subject to the whims of the factions and their summoning ritual."

Jack couldn't say for sure how he had ended up here. Truth be told, his explorations and learnings of the free cities hadn't afforded him as much knowledge as he'd have liked. No, in true, raised by Winchesters style, the young nephilim spent most of his time alone in his room at Mags.

More recently in his room in the new house everyone had gotten together.

No, one moment he was doing a little more than nothing the next he was walking through the woods, much like when he went to see Eddie running D&D. When he stepped into the diner he had seen in the distance, he had not expected another. Michael didn't look like the Michael he knew, nor did he recognize him yet. No, Jack was from a few days before they would meet.

"You know me?" He asked, carefully stepping in more to get out of the doorway. Unsure how to feel. "I suppose so, where am I? And, how do you know me?" The kid really needs to get out more.

The lack of recognition on Jack's face explained a great deal. By the time Michael had met him, Jack had been little more than human. He had to be from an earlier time frame, before they'd met and before whatever he'd done to lose his power.

The thought of a first meeting with a fully charged nephilim who probably expected him to be the same aggressive, alternate Michael Lucifer had didn't thrill him, but it was better for it to happen in a place he controlled than in the middle of Nocwich. Michael moved closer, stepping slowly and deliberately between the tables without taking his eyes off of Jack.

"I do know you—or I will, however you prefer to see it. You're Lucifer's son, which makes you my nephew," he said, and then, before Jack could start going through the list of possibilities, he gestured at himself. "Michael."

Next, Michael waved a hand at the single table that remained between them—an invitation. Have a seat.

"You're in the Horizon, within my domain. How I know you is a longer story."

Jack didn't recall the man's face at all, but as he had told Lucifer before. He had only met the alternate Michael, not the real one. No, Jack was from a few days from before Chuck would wipe the planet of everyone but the three of them, and Michael.

Meeting in a place neither could fully power up and throw down was safer than in the actual world around them. Jack was clearly concerned, but he just tipped his head as Michael explained. A look of worry crossed his face, but he didn't move to attack.

No, that worry grew.

"Please don't tell anyone." The nephilim asked, that worry in his tone, finally moving forward. As things seemed to click in place. "You're the Michael from my world?" He had reasons to be apprehensive. No one bothered to tell Jack about Adam. And the Michael he knew was kind of psycho.

Yet, family would always be a weakness for Jack. "I would like to know the longer story, please. But." He paused, looking awkward. "I didn't tell anyone I was Lucifer's son... They don't remember me. I told them I am someone elses. I can explain later, but I would like to know how you know me." Jack was more uncertain than he had been when they met.

A few months here, and the freshly recovered soul that he's brooded over alone, hadn't helped his normally sunny disposition.

The worry was all but written in bold text on the boy's face, and Michael's expression grew pinched. His parentage was a big secret to keep. He could only assume the truth and the necessity of concealing it weighed even more heavily on Jack for his young age.

"That answers one of my questions. Does Dean Winchester know you're here?"

Dean was from several years before either of them. Of all the people who'd be most willing and eager to run through the son of the devil, Michael would place him at the top of the list. A fight against a nephilim probably wouldn't end well for Dean, but then again Jack struck him as soft enough to let the man take a few swings at him without fighting back. With the Mark and the first blade on his side, well. He might be able to do quite a bit of damage.

Michael sat at the table. He snapped his fingers, the door locking and blinds around the diner drawing shut in response. This was now a private conversation.

"No one will be hearing it from me, other than those who already know. Wanda, your—" He paused for a moment, not quite sure what Jack's exact view of Lucifer was. From his time spent with Adam he knew that a father was not always a parent. John Winchester had been his vessel's father, but he'd been little more than an occasional visitor to Adam. Eventually, with a tilt of his head and a puzzled glance, he offered: "Grace donor?"

Maybe that wasn't quite right. He'd let Jack tell him what title suited Lucifer.

"I'm the Michael from your world," he confirmed. "Or you're the Jack from mine. I was freed from Hell shortly before my Father—your grandfather—decided to wipe humanity from the face of the Earth. All except for Sam and Dean. That was the point at which I met you, though you had very little in the way of power by then."

He was leaving out the part where he was dragged to the bunker in a pair of handcuffs. Surely that wasn't relevant here.

"Dean knows." He answers truthfully, it was only then that Jack sat down across from Michael in the booth. Both hands sitting on the table as he awkwardly tried to get his thoughts in order. "He is younger than when I knew him, everyone is. Castiel looks the same, but I know he's not." He went on. "I told them all that Castiel is my father. It's... not really a lie, he raised me. He protected my mother, I trust him. And... I'm sure you know what Dean would do if he knew. I don't want to go through that again."

It was spoken low, like a guilty confession. He had relaxed a little, but not much when the doors locked, and the blinds closed. Though he'd only seen confession in movies, he wondered if this is what that felt like.

He had hated other world Michael with all of his young being, but this Michael didn't feel wrong. He felt oddly safe speaking, which felt rare these days. This was why he hated lies and the weight of them.

"I appreciate you, they are my family, but I can't tell them. They wouldn't understand." He truly felt his mother's influence was all that kept him safe when he was firstborn. Kelly wasn't here. "Wanda?" He asked, "I think I know her. She was at the Sir Eddie's game and spoke to me. Unless there is two." Sitting back finally, looking just as worried as ever. "You can call him my father when it's us. I know he's here, I can feel it. I've been trying to hide myself." He was still mad at Lucifer, and didn't know Lucifer was also from before him as well.

Sitting up again, a fidgety child-man... no, nephilim. Offering his hand, Michael's way. "It is nice to finally meet you. At least a not apocalypse version of you, anyway." Maybe he should have remembered meeting Michael, he hadn't been weak for awhile, but every time he tried to think it was drawing a blank. "Maybe I lost my power again, it has happened more than once, I am sad to admit." It was why for such a strong creature he didn't always rely on his ablities.

For a short moment all Michael did was tilt his head and peer at the outstretched hand. He supposed that had to be the half-human element in action. Before Jack had time to lose his nerve he took his hand and gave it the sort of handshake one might expect from the former General of Heaven's forces: firm, unrelenting, and without any of Jack's squirming. He took care not to crush his fingers, though.

Michael withdrew his hand and then snapped his fingers again. This time, it summoned to the table what had passed for a pizza at the real Jaci's Little Red Wagon diner. The human side of Jack ate, he remembered that.

"He'd either try to kill you or imprison you," he said, blunt as ever. "Lying to the Winchesters rarely ends well for anyone, but considering the consequences of speaking the truth, I don't see an alternative."

An adult approving of Jack's lie. Perhaps that would bring the boy some measure of peace.

"Late twenties, amiable yet withdrawn, and brimming with magic? That would be one and the same. She lives in Solvunn, as I do. Lucifer is in Thorne. Be mindful when you visit Nocwich or the Horizon, but you have little chance of running into him within the Free Cities.

"How does one such as you lose their powers several times? Was it something to do with the other version of me? I never did meet my alternate."

Though he wondered what that other Michael had been like—why his Father had made more than one of him, what traits were common between them—what inspired a flicker of real curiosity was Jack. He had never anticipated meeting a nephilim of his nature, had no point of reference for what one might be like, and, at the bottom of it all, was endeared despite himself. It had been a very long time since he'd been around a (half-)angel as new as Jack.

Jack had left his hand extended until the shake. He didn't flinch, but he returned the shake the way he had learned from the boys. Firm and quick, though, nowhere near as firm as Michael's shake was. His hand dropped back down to the table once he let go.

His eyes widened, clearly with a glimmer of joy. Pizza was a favorite and it felt real enough. He had so many questions about the horizons he had never asked. "May I?" He asked, waiting for any sign of approval before he'd grab a piece and dig in. The human half not only needed food, but craved it, and this was nearly a taste of home.

"Both." Jack spoke after he took a bite. "He's tried both before." He confirmed. A wave of guilt washing back over him. A few months with his soul back here, and he still felt so guilty over Mary's death. He deserved worse than the Malik box. "That's what I thought too... and they're my family. It made the most sense, I can't go to him. I know who he is." He meant Lucifer, and it showed by his tone.

The adult approval meant so much more than Michael could ever understand. "That seems like the same woman, yes. She was helping me make a Dungeons and dragon's character." Not that Michael asked, but Jack was relaxing as he ate his pizza. "I will keep to the free cities then." Jack spoke more of a promise. Who knew if he'd keep it, though, he didn't have a great track record with promises.

Taking a breath he sat back, putting the pizza back down on a plate before him as he looked to Michael making eye contact. "The first time was after my father; Lucifer, stole my grace. It left me mostly human, and I died the first time from that." He spoke, almost detached, in that odd Castiel matter-of-factly way. "The second time probably hasn't happened for me yet. I've died more than once now, though. It wouldn't surprise me."

"Of course. That is why I put it out," he said with a wave of his hand, giving his permission. Dig in.

Watching Jack eat was different from watching Adam eat. It lacked that secondhand contentment that Michael could feel for himself, but it was charming nonetheless. Food had the power to cheer up humans (and half-humans) like few other physical gifts could. It was confirmation that he could at least replicate a decent pizza within the Horizon, even if he couldn't do the same from scratch out in Solvunn.

Michael nodded along as Jack spoke, first at the news that he had already been on the bad side of Dean's temper, then at his mention of the game. He'd never played Dungeons & Dragons, but the name rang familiar in what remained of Adam's memories. The salient point was that Jack knew Wanda, and Wanda was not the kind of person to wish him harm. He'd have to ask her to say nothing of Jack's parentage, especially not to any of her friends in the Free Cities.

"Your father was the one who first took your grace?" Michael raised his eyebrows. That went some way to explaining what Lucifer wanted with a nephilim in the first place. He certainly didn't believe it was out of love for Jack's mother, given the toll carrying a half-archangel would have taken on her. "Then you should know that Lucifer has very little grace of his own presently. You may make for an appealing boost if he's given the opportunity."

Whether or not that was truly the case anymore, Michael expected Lucifer to take his advantages where he could, particularly with his view of Thorne being something of a prison.

Edited 2023-02-26 01:55 (UTC)

"Thank you." He replied once he had permission. The pizza did clearly cheer Jack up some. Even if it reminded him of nights at the bunker or pit stops on the road. Even if the Winchesters didn't remember him from back home, at least Jack had those memories. The good, the bad and the very ugly.

Even if Jack didn't know what Michael was thinking, he would be thankful to his uncle for helping keep his secret protected, but it would come out sooner or later. Though, next time that Eddie has Dungeons & Dragons, he might invite Michael to go with him. He planned to play next time.

"Yes, it was awhile ago, he was weak and we got in a pretty bad argument." Finding out Lucifer had lied about killing one of the apocalypses survivors had led to a big enough argument that Jack had planned to cut him off completely, but Lucifer stole his grace and lead to further pain. He was still angry at his father for that. "I did not know he was low of grace, but it does make me question if he is from that time." Jack was never good at hiding his emotions, a worried and almost sad look crossing his features.

Jack had stopped eating for now, looking down at the second half eaten slice, his mind wandering if Lucifer would do that again.

Edited (Opps) 2023-03-01 17:38 (UTC)

Michael counted it as a win. Even if Jack was still a relative stranger to him both in what he was and who he was, he preferred a cheery nephilim to a melancholy one—or an angry one, though the boy before him scarcely seemed capable of it. If he were lucky, he had inherited his mother's temper over his father's.

"Nonetheless, that is a new low for him." Good to be warned that Lucifer was capable of ripping the grace out of his own son, not that Michael would have found the thought of it particularly hard to conceive of in the first place. A desperate, powerless Lucifer was more dangerous than any other. He might have learned that sort of disregard for his creation from their own Father anyway. "He's from sometime after he escaped the Cage, but before I did. A few years' difference."

He was still blind to much of what had happened in those years and couldn't narrow it down by major event. That was enough talk of Lucifer, however. It was clear it did nothing to lift Jack's spirits, and Michael heard about his brother often enough as it was.

"So what is it like living with the Winchesters? Are they teaching you to hunt?" he asked, with a hint of genuine interest. It was rare for hunters to take on a creature that might be called a monster himself.

The cherry nephilim was much safer, and easier to control at that. Jack wanted people to be proud of him, and that too was easy to manipulate. None of them wanted to see Jack's temper, Mary Winchester and Nick had, and neither of them lived to tell the tale.

"I suppose, it sounds on brand from everything I was told." He said it and yet, he looked unsure. Still randomly thinking of Lucifer's words form the Apocalypse world. He'd wanted so much to give his father a chance, and yet. Here they were. "You were in the cage too? What was that like?" He asked curiously.

The question presented did help to raise his spirits. Looking to his uncle he smiled some. "It's a lot of fun, once Dean got over my parentage anyway... and other things later." An awkward look passed before he smiled again. "We'd watch TV, Dean showed me the Lost Boys over 20 times." That made the smile brighter. "They have been teaching me to hunt and to control my powers. It's a nice feeling to save people. Don't you agree?"

Fortunately for Jack, Michael's days of manipulation were largely behind him: he was no longer leader of the Host, no longer set on bringing about the end of days or Paradise. These days he acted only for himself. Instead of an opportunity for grabbing at power, Jack represented a curiosity, a small branch of family he'd never expected to have.

Michael's features tightened at Jack's first question, mouth twisting. The Cage was not his favourite subject.

"Do you really want to talk about the Cage?" He let out a grudging sigh. Perhaps Jack wanted to compare it to his own experience of captivity. In that case, he'd indulge him a little. "It was quieter, once your father was freed. For the most part, it wasn't very interesting: dark, cold, silent. I did have company throughout, so I suppose it could have been worse."

His expression leveled out. Jack's life with the Winchesters was an easier topic. Movies weren't what Michael would consider an important element of anyone's upbringing, but who better to nurture Jack's human side than a human?

"I wouldn't know. I've never gone hunting, at least not in the way the Winchesters do. It's good that they're teaching you some control—you'll need it."

That alone would promise Michael to likely have the best relationship with his nephew outside of those he lived with anyway. Someone he could depend on. It was a rarity, in a way it shouldn't have been, but Winchester Stupid was ingrained into who he was.

Seeing his features tighten Jack started to say something but stopped as Michael spoke. "Sorry." He added after Michael finished. "I shouldn't have asked that, was it rude?"

The humans certainly did help nurture his human side and mostly teach him right from wrong. A harder feat than one would expect when he had been without his soul so long. It was still pretty freshly returned by only a few months.

"Would you like too? It is nice to help people." He spoke, his eyes brightening as he said it. Clearly he enjoyed helping others. "And yes, Castiel is trying to teach me that too. I do need it." Lest another Mary happen...

"It was direct," he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. Each and every one of Michael's harsh expressions was a judgement rendered, but not every judgement was a reproach. He preferred that Jack be honest rather than be forced to deal with him talking around what he really meant to say. "Ask whatever you like. If I don't care to talk about it, I won't answer. Deal?"

Michael leaned back in his chair. His face had picked up a hint of amusement, now. Desperately wanting to be helpful was an all too familiar attitude from a young angel. Maybe humans were the same, though Michael had never spent time around any as young as Jack.

"Are you inviting me on a hunt? You do realize crossing borders is both difficult and generally frowned upon by all factions? Though if you meant the hunting grounds in Nocwich, I suppose I could make the time. Here, however, would be safer." Michael gestured to the diner around them, meaning his domain as a whole.

"Dean always taught me it was best to get to the heart of the matter as quickly as I can." He explained. "Sometimes I ask without thinking." Like asking cops or morticians right out about the supernatural. "But, yes, I like that. And please tell me if I do anything to make you uncomfortable. I don't always get it, and I don't want to be rude to you, even unknowingly. There is just so much I don't know."

Returning to his pizza, letting the cage go, he could have asked more but better to focus on life with the Winchesters. Michael was lucky there, most teenagers could be annoying. Though, Jack was more like a kindergartener in a young adults body.

"I was, but I don't even know if there's anything we could... and I don't leave the house a lot I admit." He spoke as he looked down at the pizza. "Yeah, I learned how hard it is to leave, I haven't tried more than a few times." He looked up, and nodded. "I would like to come back and visit. I like being somewhere safe, and with people I can trust. Thank you, Michael."

It was strange, he had hated the other Michael so fiercely, but this one. This one he felt safe around. "I should probably head back soon..." He spoke low.

"If you ever upset me, you'll know it." Michael was nothing if not capable of anger. As unlikely as it seemed at that moment that Jack with all his smiles and innocent curiosity might make himself the target of it, he was still half Lucifer and half adopted Winchester. It was a mix that sounded like it could inspire rage if ever he'd heard one.

It was strange to hear this nephew who'd never met him before admit that he trusted him, but Michael covered his surprise. Maybe it was another trait that was simply innate to someone Jack's age.

"It's worth getting to know the city you're living in, if only because this world seems to find itself on the brink of a crisis every other month," he said. "You're free to visit my domain whenever you care to, though you'd do well to send me a message beforehand if you expect me to be here.

"Before you go: favourite colour and favourite animal?"

"I will keep that in mind. Same with me." He assured, he had gained his father's temper, as much as he hated to admit it. It took longer to get him there, but once he was angry, bad things happened.

Thank goodness for Kelly's genes and Castiel's presence. If he did bring out Michael's rage, at least he could hold his own, he hoped not, though.

"I hope to fix that soon. We moved into a nice house, so I plan to explore more soon." Though that wouldn't happen with Castiel's kidnapping and his promise to stay inside. Eventually he would explore. "Thank you, Michael, I appreciate it." He truly did, and it showed on his face as he smiled brightly.

At least until he had to think. "I will message first, and I think it would be blue or brown. I like both a lot. My favorite animal? Dogs. I love dogs." He admitted, as he stood.

"If you ever find yourself in Solvunn, you have my permission to impose on me for a tour."

Though being thanked for his time was the natural, logical thing for a younger (half-)angel to say to him, it still felt odd. A combination of a thousand years and the sweeping changes that had occurred topside while he'd been locked away were to thank for that shift in his perception.

"I'll remember," he said, filing away the answers to his questions for later use. "Until we meet again. Try not to run afoul of any hunters in that time."

"I would enjoy that." A simple honest answer, and a growing hope to get to know some of his family without the danger of grace stealing or death. It was a dangerous hope, but one he would cling too.

Today was a day of changed perspectives it seemed.

"I wont, I promise. Please take care, Michael." He spoke with a smile before turning to head to the door so he could leave. He wouldn't vanish until he was on the other side. This was the best he'd felt in awhile.

[Closed]

Jack - Michael's domain

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