Author's note: Following the success of my previous Michean (that's Michael/Dean) story called One of a kind, I bring you another, completely unrelated story with the same pairing. In this story Michael takes a vessel that looks like the young Michael Weatherly.

Okay, so this new story is set in season 15, where exactly doesn't matter. What is important (and SPOILERS!) is that Lilith never encountered Michael and Adam, they the boys killed her and that they were wise enough to figure out a way to trap God, opened Purgatory, found the Leviathan blossom and failed at entrapping Chuck. This Michael is fresh out of Hell (read Cage) and wants nothing to do with the Winchesters or God or Apocalypse or any of that crap.

But since when does anyone get what they want?

Branches snapped under his feet as Michael landed in a park, right under an old Oak tree. He still remembered when it was nothing but a small sprout, weak and tender, exposed and left to fend for itself. Out of many things his Father created, nature was the one thing Michael ever really liked. He would spend hours just watching a carnation bloom. Or a baby woodpecker hatch from its egg.

Of course, he always snuck out to go that, Heaven's forbid he was seen doing this. Enjoying something. Him, the almighty warrior, God's second in command, the archangel Michael.

"Pfff..." He puffed at the memories. For eons he had to put this mask and act the part his Father appointed to him, a part he never really wanted to play, but wouldn't say No. Not to his father. Not to the supreme being that created him and this beautiful thing he called Earth. He work so hard and Michael watched, amazed and enchanted by the various variations of green on leaves, how not one was the same as the other, and how there were billions upon billions of them.

But he had other things to think about now.

"We could stick around for a few hours, I don't mind." Adam's voice echoed in his head and Michael sighed. He would love nothing more then to relish in the warmth of the sun and listen to a nearby stream pass by, each water droplet creating a symphony no man could ever hear. Or maybe to scent the flowers that were just about to bloom, maybe see a dung beatle roll dung into round ball.

"No. I promised you I will let you go, and I have to keep that promise, but to do that, I have to fulfill your condition." Michael replied in his head, never once speaking up, even though they were alone.

"Yeah, but you don't have to do it right now." Adam replied knowing he might as well be talking to the wind. When it comes to Adam as his vessel, he is the most caring person Adam has ever met. Every move, every action, so considerate and protective, caring and kind. Michael might not want to admit it, but he loved mankind, with all it's quirks and flaws and he wouldn't generally want to hurt any of them.

He really should apologise to Bobby Singer for blowing him up, it has been eating Michael for decades down in the Cage.

Suddenly, something in his ears resonated and Michael looked up to the mountain in the distance. That just might be it. The thing he was searching for. Whales of a dying soul as it prepared to leave the body, uncertain yet as to where it will end up. Perhaps Michael could help with that?

In a blink of an eye, the archangel disappeared out of the park and appeared thousands of miles away, in a deep dark forest where no normal human being could see properly. But Michael could. He could see a fallen man, clutching his chest and fighting to breathe, a reaper standing above him, ready to take his soul wherever the man believed it should go.

The man couldn't see the reaper. But he could see Michael's silhouette as the archangel approached him.

"What... What are you?" The man asked. Curious question to ask with his dying breath. One would assume a person in his position would ask for help. Without even making contact, Michael could see the man's entire life as if it was a few pages of a book. He could see the treacherous path he was sent on, knowing only pain and sorrow, at yet, helping others. Not because of revenge, like some from his branch did. But because he could. Because he chose to help.

A true hunter.

One that blames himself for losses he could not help, people he had to kill to save others, choices he had to make. Choices he believed are enough to deem him to Hell. And if a soul believed it belonged on Hell, then that is where it was headed. Just ask Lilly Sunder.

Michael's eyes glowed with grace, then he showed the man who he was and what he was offering. He offered to send the soul to Heaven and asked if he could inhabit his body after, all without actually speaking. When the man huffed at him, telling him he was no better then a crossroads demon, Michael showed him that if he wished to be forgiven for his sins, he would be, regardless if he allowed his body to be used after his death. One does not exclude the other.

The hunter did not see that coming.

"So I can tell you to go screw yourself and tell you to take me to heaven, and you would? Just like that?"

Michael nodded. Both knew that Michael could even heal him and save his life, but both knew it was the man's time. So the hunter agreed and the forest was engulfed in bright light, only for a moment before it toned down, leaving behind two men standing.

Michael, now in a new vessel nodded at Adam and with a flick of his wrist, he send him home. Then he took out the hunter's pocket knife, lifted his shirt and started carving a sigil into his body, on the side of his stomach, just above the left hip. A cloaking sigil, one that would hide his grace from everything, but also contain it within his body, rendering it useless and inaccessible.

Rendering Michael into a human.