Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Just the bunnies that I plot and scheme with.


He had fallen.

He had fallen so far and so fast and so very, terribly hard, he hit the ground and it took years to get back up.

But he did, and he shone brighter than ever before.

"I am not sorry," he shouted, eyes flashing with anger. "You are punishing me, but I have done nothing wrong! Nothing!" His fury welled, his Grace spilling over the mind within the body. Were he human, his vessel would have bled with the power roiling inside of him, wanting an outlet and finding none. A Cage not just for his essence, but for his consciousness as well.

It was sickening.

"Why have you done this to me?" he cried. "Why? I should not be here! I am not the one at fault! Others have done much worse than I, so what is this? What is this, Father? What?"

His energy clashed wildly with the power weighing him down, keeping him in. He lashed out, his wings sweeping everywhere, breaking upon the cage walls and crashing against the ground; the impossibility of their tangibility only making his hatred for the prison grow.

He wanted out, but he could not leave. He was trapped; cornered. Fire all around him, flickering at the edges of the Cage, crawling obscenely over his form. It ate away at his fragmented wings and slithered through the cracks in his Grace, more painful than suffocation, more invasive than the most painful torture.

He wanted nothing more than to destroy the entire thing. Not just the Cage. Everything. Every lick of flame, every demon who dared speak, every human being who put him there.

He hated it with a passion he had never felt before. It was all-encompassing, devouring him from the inside out. The similarities between a demon and himself was something he didn't bother to contemplate. The fires around him leapt higher, coursing beneath his flesh.

The world burned in Hell, screams ringing out and laughter cracking like thunder, razors dripping with the blackness of sinners. It was beautiful; repulsive. Pain lay heavy in the blood-soaked air as those same sinners died and still lived; they could never escape. Hell was a prison.

And in the midst of it all, broken and unrepentant, Michael raged.