Lucifer spread his arms, his voice rich with persuasion. "Give up this futile struggle, Sam. Accept me. We are two sides of the same whole. You will gain supreme power, and together we will remake this flawed world. As for that laughable request of yours and Dean's..." He glanced at Michael. "Leave humanity a reservation? Fine. I can even promise that on that land, humans may live according to their ridiculous 'free will,' so long as they do not cross the line."
At that moment, Michael spoke.
His voice carried a distinctive magnetism—clear and gentle, yet every word bore an invisible weight.
"Dean." Michael's gaze fell on Dean. "Do not be deceived by his lies. Once Sam becomes Lucifer's vessel, Lucifer's power will descend in full. When that happens, the Gates of Hell will be thrown completely open. The demons will no longer be this minor nuisance—they will number ten times, a hundred times more than they do now."
"The sky will be shrouded in darkness, and the earth covered in sulfurous flames. The only thing that can stop it is the confrontation foretold by the apocalypse: the final battle of fate, with me, Michael, serving as the other vessel."
He stepped forward, faintly forming a standoff with Lucifer.
"Only this way can the disaster be contained within the bounds of the ritual. Only then is there a chance of preserving seeds for humanity's reconstruction after the final battle. Dean, you know what you must do."
Two pairs of eyes, transcending all mortal things, focused on the Winchester Brothers at the same time.
The air in the room nearly froze solid.
Dean looked at Sam, and Sam looked back at him. Both their eyes held resolve, along with a trace of tacit understanding that only they could comprehend.
Then Dean