Title: Light a Light for Me (Cause I'm All Smoke)
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: Night's Fang (Inked Insanity)
Characters/Pairings: Michael. Michael/Adam.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 967 words.
Summary: Michael's been burning out for years
Warnings: Spoiler for um up till 6.10
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I think that's been established by now yeah?
A/N: Written for ladyknightanka 's birthday. Happy belated birthday love.
Strike one, phase one, whatever the human slang for it will be millennia down the line, he's born, brought into existence with a spark, a smaller big bang that created the Universe.
And when he comes into awareness he sees the face of the one that gave him this existence. God, Creator, Most Highest of the Holy, Father, smiles at him, looks down upon him with pride. "Mikhael," He says, "My pride, my first, my sword, my fire." He hands him another spark, another thing like him, a different fire, one that feels like an antithesis to him, and says, "this is your brother, your second half, Lucifer. He will be your first. Burn brightly for him."
And so Michael does.
He's young, they're all young, and there are more now. Lucifer, and Raphael, and Gabriel, and the littler ones, and the littlest ones. Father brings forth more everyday. And then there are the animals, and the humans, and all is well, good, beautiful.
The world grows, and Father watches it all in happiness, eyes shining with pride. Gabriel sings and dances across the heavens, in the wind on the seas, dragging forward every young one. Raphael scowls good naturedly when they come trudging back to him, wings bent out of shape, scars and bruises on their grace, and heals them. Lucifer shines. He shines brightly. The brightest amongst them all, making them pause in awe and wonder. Lucifer, Father watches the most. He is the apple of Father's eyes.
And Michael flickers quietly as he reinforces the walls between where the first monsters exist banished and this world, toils in the gardens and teaches the young ones how to fight, and brightly and beaming with pride for his brothers, for Lucifer. And Father watches, nods, and goes back to smiling at Lucifer.
Lucifer rebels, and Father orders him to take Lucifer and his army down. And he doesn't want too, he doesn't, but it's Father's orders, and he is Father's sword, his fire, and Father knows best, so he does. He injures those brothers, he taught himself, cuts through legions of them, and burns with Father's righteousness when he casts down Lucifer.
And he flames, and he flames brighter, and watches Father nod, Father's eyes fill with sorrow, as he retreats to the upper most corners for Heaven where even Michael can't follow.
Humans fall, the Watchers fall, Gabriel leaves, and then God leaves.
And it's only him and Raphael left, leading lost little ones, when Michael doesn't even know how any more. But still he will. He will be the guiding fire until Father comes back because Father ordered him too.
Raphael steps up as his right hand, trades his healing for electricity and forges it into a sword that can cut through even his own grace, and turns his heart to stone.
And Michael burns brightly, flames and fizzles out with his sword in his hand, and lost angels behind him, and hopes, and prays he can guide well, prays for his Father to come home, but it's not enough, it's never enough.
Rapture, Revelations, slaying Lucifer, blissful oblivion. He can't do it, he can't, and yet he will. His Father's words, his Father's destiny, laid out for them, for all of them, unchangeable, inescapable. The only way to get Father back.
He guides, and orders, and begs Dean to understand, and mourns over Gabriel's death. And then he burns into Adam's soul, his last chance, until the boy gives consent, eyes closed and shining with something that Michael won't call pity, won't think of as empathy, because he's God's fire and he doesn't need pity from a human, and most certainly not empathy.
And he burns, and burns, and burns; burns out his hope and burns out Adam's soul. But for some reason Adam doesn't seem to mind.
The cage is small, suffocating, claustrophobic. He can't feel Father any more. He can't feel himself any more. Lucifer snarls, and screams, and rages, insane at his captivity once again. He casts his rage on Michael, on Sam, on Adam. The humans can't fight back, but Michael can, and he does.
And Lucifer screams, and Sam screams. And then Sam leaves. And then Lucifer burns out.
But Adam? Adam holds him back, and holds him close as starts to lose himself somewhere in the madness, small bruised and battered soul pulsing weakly. Like a measly firefly. Michael doesn't know why, but he's thankful, grateful, and he clings and smothers, and just holds. Michael's burnt his heart to ashes, burnt his faith out a long time ago, burnt his grace out to embers in his growing insanity.
But Adam still holds him, wraps around his grace, and whispers "Michael, Michael," ever so softly, like a prayer meant only for the two of them and no one else, that it's easy to forget about it.
When Death comes for Adam, to take him out, Michael isn't surprised.
Michael doesn't know how long it's been. Hundred years or two hundred, or maybe more he's not sure. It feels like forever and eternities together. He doesn't burn much any more, just a barely there flame. He's been fizzling and flickering for years, even before the Cage, his fire dying out while he tried to keep it going, tried, and tried, and failed.
But Adam refuses to go with Death, not without Michael. And Michael looks up confused, surprised, as Adam holds out a hand to him. He's no use any more. He can't do anything. But Adam smiles, flickering like a candle, a small concentrated light that shines out through the darkness, ready to guide him, and Michael realises it doesn't matter any more.
No it doesn't. Adam's fire is enough for both of them.