Michael had spent enough time walking through the darkness that he was steadily beginning to realize he might just be lost in the swirl of memories. Voices echoed through his head, words and memories he had long suppressed. His brother's voice stuck with him throughout everything else, though, standing out among the others, drowning out everybody and everything else. The pain flickering through his chest was steadily dying out, turning numb. He couldn't even think, really - his mind was blank, aside from the words that were echoing around his head from the memories. His eyes stung, but they were dry.

For a moment, the archangel faltered to a stop, looking down. A rush of pain enveloped him once again, accompanied by guilt - guilt, guilt, guilt, it seemed to be the only thing driving him right then. Tears finally prickled at the corners of his eyes, wrapping his arms around himself as if he could hold himself together that way, his last defensive mechanism.

Adam was wrong - Michael wasn't better than this, he wasn't better than the Winchesters. There was a time when he was going to make that same mistake, when he was going to do exactly what Dean had done, when he had been willing to drop everything and fight his brother - ready to kill him - because his Father had commanded him to do so. The anger returned, not quite at full force as it had been only moments ago, but it was enough.

Lucifer hadn't… deserved that. The things Michael had said to him; The things he had done to him; The things that hadn't come from him, not really - but from the chains that continued to bind him to his Father, from the blind loyalty, the blind faith he had in the Man. But that loyalty, that faith, if it hadn't been severed before, it most certainly was now. And that anger pulsed, strong and steady, twisting into something even stronger. He was angry at Dean. He was angry at himself.

But he despised God.

It was too little, too late, now. Lucifer was gone; He couldn't beg his brother for forgiveness, he couldn't redeem himself to him now. He was so stupid, for trying to change, for trying to be better now, now after all that time, after all of the mistakes he had made, all of the pain he had caused. He was stupid for thinking that things could get any better - that he was worth it.

"Halo."

The archangel stilled, turning his head slightly before turning around completely to face Adam. He faltered, the second he did - Adam was the only one he had left now, but he didn't want the demon to see him like this, seconds away from a breakdown and barely managing to hold himself together. He didn't respond, sucking in a deep breath and holding it, reaching up and trying to rub the tears away silently. It wasn't fair - Adam was grieving, too-

"Yeah," the demon agreed, coming to a stop in front of him, but he didn't seem irritated - or even slightly angry, for that matter. "But it's not my brother that…" The demon paused, inhaling, before managing to speak again, seeming to have a hard time spitting the word out. "... Died."

Michael just stared at him, silent. He didn't even know what to say to the demon - what was there to say? But words weren't even needed. Adam gazed at him for the longest time, just as silent, before turning his head and looking around. The archangel hesitated a little before finally ripping his own gaze away, as well, watching the darkness around them seem to fade. Then, finally, the colors burst to life, swirling and merging - and before Michael knew it, they were in a park. But not… the park.

It was the park they'd been in before, during their first night on Earth; The stars glittered up ahead, dark clouds whisking across the sky, the breeze sharp and cold - enough to bring Michael back to his senses, if only slightly, the haze of emotions calming faintly as he let his eyes flick around the area, the stiffness in his muscles slowly relaxing.

Adam moved from beside him, and Michael watched as he headed over to the bench that they had been settled on those few nights ago, where they'd just sat and watched the sky. The demon sank back wordlessly, his focus no longer on Michael, but on the sky. The archangel watched him, quiet, before slowly turning his gaze back to the stars. After a long moment, just standing still, he finally moved to follow, almost numbly.

The demon moved over so that Michael could sit beside him, still not quite looking at him. Michael looked the other way, just for a moment, slowly glancing around the park before rooting his gaze back to the stars above. They seemed just a little bit brighter than Michael had remembered - but, then, this was Adam's memory. The demon leaned back, sinking against the bench and crossing one leg over the other, crossing his arms behind his head and letting his eyes drift shut with a low, soft sigh. Michael spared him a glance, but didn't speak.

Maybe he was right - maybe Michael was grieving more than Adam was. Lucifer was his brother, after all. And as close as the demon might have gotten to the Devil, he and Michael still had more history. Maybe that's what made it worse - the fact that they had never actually made up. The fact that they'd never have the chance to now.

He wondered if Lucifer would have even forgave him in the first place. But that didn't matter; He'd never been able to tell his brother how sorry he really was. Regardless of whether Lucifer believed him, and forgave him, or not - his brother had died believing that all of his family hated him. That Michael hated him. As angry as he had been at Lucifer, he had never hated him.

It was kind of funny - he had never truly been able to hate the Devil, but that was exactly what he was feeling now, and for God of all people; Pure loathing.

Michael blinked, drawn from his thoughts when Adam suddenly went completely slack, relaxing into the bench all at once. And then he was completely dormant - his thoughts had slowed to a complete stop. He had fallen asleep.

The archangel sighed a little, keeping his gaze fixed on the demon for a moment. He couldn't blame him for falling asleep, of course - he was equally exhausted, and in more ways than one. But Michael didn't think he'd be getting any sleep, not now. He fell silent, letting his gaze flicker away from Adam, and leaned his head back to look up again. Every part of him ached to just give in, to let himself go completely, to succumb to the insanity the way he had done before; It was there, flickering just faintly at the edges, ready to be released the second the calm, patient, stability proved to be too much for the archangel to be able to carry anymore.

It was all weighing down on him now, and he was more than willing to let himself crack under the pressure, but… he couldn't do that. He couldn't give in - not only because he couldn't do that to Adam, but because he didn't want to do that to himself again.

He wanted to change.

He wanted to be better - he wanted to do better. Not just for Lucifer - but for… everything. For Adam, for Heaven, for the universe - for the first time, his thoughts had been extended beyond just what God wanted of him, what God wanted in general. Because he was tired of living by his Father's standards - he had been even before he'd been sprung from the Cage. He had been determined, desperate to change, even before every door in Hell had come open. So what if God didn't think he was worth it? Apparently He didn't think anyone in this universe was worth it.

He hadn't thought Lucifer was worth it.

Regardless, even knowing Lucifer was gone - Michael still wanted to be better. He didn't even know why, he couldn't even place it; But he still ached to be something more than just, God's most loyal angel, his blindly faithful son. He wanted to undo the mistakes that he had made in the past - but even more than that, he wanted to undo God's mistakes. He wanted to defy Him. He wanted to do something, not for him, but against Him.

Michael exhaled, slowly, and sank back beside Adam, crossing both of his arms over his face. He was still exhausted, and it all still hurt - but beyond that, his drive, his purpose, it hadn't entirely fizzled out. No, it had merely shifted in focus.

Closing his eyes, he relaxed into the bench, as much as possible. He'd try to sleep, but he didn't think he'd be able to get very far - regardless, he was content to just sit there beside Adam, his energy completely drained, finally taking the much-needed break. The anger diminished again, with ease - leaving behind nothing but a cold, hollow feeling. Not quite pain, not quite comfort.

And then, finally, when he was numb, he drifted.

He dreamed of Heaven, yet again.

He dreamed of his family, of his brother. He dreamed of Lucifer, before the Rebellion. He dreamed of how they used to be, happy and carefree, blissfully oblivious. He dreamed of exploring Heaven with his younger brother by his side, teaching him how to fight, showing him different weapons, helping him to create. He dreamed of watching the creation of the universe, side by side with Lucifer, as God created the first human.

"I don't really understand," Lucifer had admitted to him, puzzled as he watched their Father work over humanity, creating these beings, this life, out of nothing. Michael was more fascinated, too much so to share his brother's confusion. "They have no powers, no purpose."

"They have to have a purpose, Luci. Father wouldn't make them unless they did," Michael dismissed with ease. Too trusting, too faithful. Lucifer had only snorted, clearly irritated with how easily his older brother had brushed him off; After a moment, the archangel tore his focus away, bringing his attention back to his brother. "I'm sorry. I am listening, Lucifer."

"They're useless," Lucifer said simply, confusion evident in his tone once more. "They're not like us, are they? And… well, Michael, they're weak," he emphasized, as if to prove a point, "why is He focusing so much on them?"

He dreamed of the first time Lucifer had outright questioned their Father. The day the seeds of his Rebellion had been planted.

Michael hadn't been sure how to respond; He'd only stared, confused and unnerved. He'd never questioned his Father's actions before, and he didn't want to start now - the thing that had scared him most of all back then, though, was how much he almost agreed. "Perhaps I should warn you against questioning Father, Lucifer," he responded, somewhat hesitantly, "He knows what He's doing."

"He's asking us to bow down to these creatures," Lucifer reminded him, "to love them more than we love Him. Let me ask you, Micha - are you even capable of that?"

"I'm capable of whatever Father asks of me," Michael had replied with ease. Lucifer had only stared at him, still skeptical. But, after a moment, he had relaxed, not content with the answers he had been given, but still too chained, even back then, to be able to question any more. At least for the moment. Michael had fallen silent as well, turning his attention back to their Father.

He dreamed of the day his own questions had begun to bloom. He dreamed of the day he wished he hadn't shoved his own uncertainties so far down.

And he awoke, even more determined than he had been before he'd fallen asleep. Maybe he couldn't make things right with Lucifer - but he could make things right for Lucifer, and he'd be damned if he wasn't willing to try.