when the hole opened, it was no joyous occasion, no moment of triumph.

It was the middle of the Mojave Desert.

The Cage had been black and warm and empty. Michael's Grace had grown cramped and stiff from disuse, without the Grace of his kin to groom and keep it well, it had become crusted over by the energies of the Cage, and thus he was weak, incredibly weak.

So weak that it was a human that dragged him from the Cage, because he could not, at that moment, do so himself.

So weak his old vessel did not so much as spark when his power was "released".

Of course, a great part of it was due to the sudden bombardment of his Father's creation, of the world. For the Cage had been devoid of his Father's touch, and for so long he had stayed in the dark without it. And that had caused his Grace to falter and fail. And so the world flushed through his entirity.

But he was a twisted, angry creature, now.

Dean pulled him out, and he was still bound to the sword he had worn when he was cast out. The soul was gone now, however, and it would not last long if he recovered to full power.

Dean held him with an air of uncertainty. He could sense that Dean had no intention to become his vessel, and that angered him.

And he was too bright. His soul too good and righteous to ever match the thing that Michael had become.

"Ah, what a celebration to herald my return!" He growled.

"You ok, angel?"

"No. I have been stuck in a cage for a millennium. My father is the one who put me there, and my brother is the reason. And I cannot feel my Grace." He hissed.

Dean nodded. "You want a ride?"

"No, filth."

Dean gave him a look.
"Wanna try asking again, nicely?"

"Fuck you."

Dean lifted him off and set him down but still let him lean heavily upon Dean's shoulders.

"you know, I've been to Hell, too." He says as he settles beside the ArchAngel. Angel. Broken creature.

Michael has been alone too long, however.

He grins at Dean, "And your family abandoned you, have they?"

"Don't talk about them like that, Michael, they've been trying to get you out since forever."

"Oh yes? Lucifer, too?"

"Yeah."

"And did your brother care when you threw yourself into Hell, Dean? I doubt it. Spineless, undeserving-"

The face twitched. "Bye, asshole." Dean shoved him off and started walking away. Michael snarled.

"He's a monster, too, Dean, just a warning. He doesn't care. He never did."

It was a lie, of course. The problem had been that he had cared too much, loved God too much. And Michael had loved him too much to have to hurt him.

"Don't talk about Sam like that, jackass. You don't know him."

"Is he a freak?"

Dean halted by one of the rocks, twisted to look at him coldly, "I'm giving you the one warning to stop right there."

Michael is so broken. Too broken.

"I hope he died painfully."

Dean's face twists into something ugly, and there, there is where he and Michael match.

He slams his hand onto something on the rock. Just before the spell blasts him heavenward, Michael sees Dean draw away a bloodied hand with grim satisfaction.

He screams when he hits the boundary of Heaven. Even as an ArchAngel, he feels the exact moment Heaven refuses to accept him. The moment he is hurled from Heaven, he uses what little of his strength he has to hurl himself into the pacific ocean, instead.

He rages beneath the waves, lets the cold drain and leech away his energy but not his fury.

And so of course, when they come for him, he cannot even fight them.