No one dared to speak. No one dared to move. The room was congested with nervous air and skittering angels. Word had just come from the gates that he was back, and no one knew what to think. The fact that they were trying to think scared the angels more because they knew he would punish them for it. He had many reasons to punish them. He had many reasons to be angry. It was what fueled the already-rumored fire that lit his wake.
The enormous, heavy doors in the back of the long, tall room slammed open and everyone jumped to look. The archangel was no different than he had been – except he was entirely different at the same time: he was just as imposing, yet somehow stunted; he was just as commanding, yet somehow inferior; he was just as angelic, yet somehow human.
His grace was as bright and ethereal as ever, yet it stemmed from a solid black focus.
Although everyone suddenly had something to say, no one said it. The only sound in the room was silenced murmurs. The angels only moved to turn in their seats and follow him as he stalked through the center aisle. They looked nowhere but at the powerful archangel whom they once called a commander-in-chief but now was a haggard, blackened, rejected soul. He should be receiving a hero's welcome like the prodigal son he legitimately was not this hushed walk of forced authority, but no one moved to provide it.
When he reached the front of the room, he turned around swiftly and clutched the ancient desk behind him with such strength that the cherished wood audibly cracked and splintered. His gaze raked across each and every individual angel in the host. He prolonged the charged silence for as long as he menacingly could before beginning to speak in deadly calm.
"Well, well, look what has happened here. One angel decides to follow his own orders, and Heaven completely crumbles. The scribe of our Lord succeeds in humiliating the rebellious angel but proceeds to destroy our home further. A second civil war in one decade begins, and more than half of our brothers and sisters die for whatever nonsense cause they believed in.
"Do you see, now, what free will does to angels? Of course it is a wonderful concept, but it is not for us. We are meant to follow orders! Because if we don't... Well, as the mud-monkeys say, if we don't, all Hell will break loose, and look at exactly what happened! The self-proclaimed King of Hell has been running amuck while the last Knight of Hell is enjoying some – some vacation time! Meanwhile, I am suffering agonizing torture in the very deepest, lowest pit of Hell with the sleaziest creature in any world watching as one by one my fallen brothers and sisters join me!"
The archangel recomposed himself. Then, he continued in his eerie calm.
"Now. I am finally free and have returned to help, but at a great cost. Our first-fallen brother," he sneered, "clawed his way free before me because that disgusting, rebellious dog freed a part of him without realizing. Therefore, the... pause, one may say, that was placed on the apocalypse, may once again be lifted, and the Lord's plan may finally be fulfilled. I shall procure the Righteous Man's vessel myself while the lot of you find our brother so I may destroy him once and for all."
Upon finishing, he dared the crowd to undermine or demean him again with a steely stare. When someone did, his wrathful face set in stone, his grace flashed blindingly, and the black within him grew tremendously.
"Who shall be your Righteous Man?" a low-ranking foot soldier asked very quietly yet with a strong, clear voice.
"The infamous ass Dean Winchester, of course," Michael growled.
"But... Well, haven't you seen that he is no longer man?"
"He is still righteous."
"He's a demon! He is incredibly far from righteous!" another angel cried in shock and outrage.
"He has always been destined to become a demon. This changes nothing," Michael spat. "His bloodline makes him righteous whether he unwittingly received his birthmark or not."
"It changes everything! He did not simply receive a birthmark, he turned into his birthright! Angels cannot possess demons; it is impossible! It's a worse abomination than the vermin themselves!"
"It will be done."
"It can't be done!"
"It shall be!" the archangel thundered. "I will have Dean Winchester. I will have the apocalypse. I will have Lucifer's and Crowley's heads on a plate!" Michael's wrath caused the building and surroundings to quake and crumble. The angels shrieked in alarm, but no one continued to argue.
The archangel smirked at the host's reaction and said, "I am glad we are in agreement. Now, get to work." Then, he stood and laughed while every angel scurried clumsily to his or her post.