Hello!

Disclaimer: I do no own Supernatural and make no money off this.

Since Season Five, I could not understand how Heaven lost. They have time traveling for crying out loud. A massive undo button. Sure, Time travel end up getting ruined a lot (Avengers Endgame, I am looking at you), but that was beside the point. Dean was sent to the future because the Angels knew Dean would never say yes. So, you are telling me that they could not have used time travel after Michael and Lucifer went to hell and fix it? How did they not know they were going to lose prior to them losing. This is how this One Shot was born.

This story is also born because think poor Michael got robbed, getting trapped in hell for 9 seconds. And I wanted some Dean and Michael fun. Not Slash or anything. Just like "Hey, we are cool." At least, Michael is out of Hell now and off with Adam.

Anyhow, please let me know what you think. This was an idea that just would not leave me until I wrote it.

Written in the Soul

There were many facts in this and any universe. The sky was blue. All living things died (excluding Angels unless killed). Two plus two equal four. Division by zero of anything non-zero was undefined. Time could not be stopped. Dean Winchester was never going to say 'yes.' These were facts and they were unchangeable, inflexible.

No matter what happened, these facts would not interchangeable unless you changed the law of universe. Michael supposed that God, his father, could change the law of physicals on will if he wanted. He did create the cosmos from the atom up, creating universes with his hands, but as his Father had vanished—abandoning them-, Michael doubted his father would be doing that anytime soon. All horrible fathers could be trace back to him. It was both annoying and hilarious that the Father of All creation, the lord Almighty, was the beginning of all 'Daddy issues'.

Okay, Michael digressed. That was what happened when sat in his father's chair for a millennial watching the world spun, but back to the matter at hand. Dean Winchester was never going to say 'yes' regardless of outside influences. His brother and Sisters may believe that the elder brother would agree in time. They state it like fact, but Michael knew the truth, having seen the stubborn will. He would never say yes, even when faced with Lucifer wearing his face. The elder Archangel did not need to see the future to know that; he knew his vessel. Dean was too proud to say yes, a sin of man. He loved his Brother too much. He was too damaged to say yes. At first, Michael thought he could change that 'No' to a 'Yes'. When he possessed the young John, he had thought he could talk Dean into a yes. Apparently, he had read Dean wrong, thought the man had enough pain. Yet, the man had denied him at every turn.

So, no. Dean Winchester was never going to say yes.

And that pissed Michael the hell off. Pissed him the Heaven off, really. Dean was his perfect Vessel, his sword. He was created for him. It was destined. He should not be able to say no. Yet, Dean Winchester denied him at every turn. Screamed NO at every step of the way. Dean may have been destined for Michael, written into stone by God, but if Michael allowed this to go on without correcting the course, Dean would say no, his fellow angels will die, and Lucifer would rein free. This could not happen. This could not be tolerated even if Michael had to take action. Regardless of what his brothers and Sisters, he was going to take action. He wasn't going to stand back and watch. He was going to make Dean say yes, which had to be done without pain or torture. He needed to get Dean to trust him. Dean would say yes if he trusted him.

*O*O*

Soon after, Michael 'popped' into the young Dean's room and the flapping of his wings filled the room. Popped wasn't the correct word, but there wasn't an easier way of explaining it. He projected into the room. To avoid suspicion, he left majority of his being in heaven and projected a small portion of his being into the room, which was for the best. He had to be careful as an angel's essence was deadly to any human around, especially his. He could and would not cause any harm to Dean Winchester, even though the man frustrated him to no end. He needed to get Dean to say yes not die.

"No bed, Mommy!" A little Dean, dirty blond curls flying, yelled from outside the room, snapping Michael from his thoughts.

"Come on, Baby Boy," Mary stated, softly as she tried to herd Dean into his room. The little boy, giggling as he went, wanted no part of it as he ran up and down the hallways with his hands in the air. Mary, five months pregnant with Lucifer's vessel, wobbled after the recently turned four-year-old, who bubbled with energy. That kid wasn't going to bed anytime soon. "Dean." She called, trying to mask her frustration and exhaustion with a smile.

Michael was not well versed with human emotions or any emotions in general; yet, he could read the frustration on the young mother's face as she stood in front of Dean's bedroom door. Even from a young age, Dean seemed to defy every order like it was his nature.

"No bed," Dean yelled, his voice cracking. "No bed."

Mary, a deep exhale, took step forward. Down the hall, John, looking much like he did four years ago, appeared and chased after the boy with a smile. Mary let out a small chuckle as John scooped up the boy and spun him in the air. Dean struggled a bit, but he was no match for his father. "Bedtime, Buddy," John smiled, as he wrangled the boy.

"Be careful, John!" Mary cautioned, as she instinctively rubbed her stomach. Her hand paused, feeling Sam kick.

Michael narrowed his eyes—well if he had eyes in this form. He had no form. He just was. When he made contact, he would take a human form, someone who would not frighten the boy. Nevertheless, he 'narrowed' his eyes at the unborn Sam, his dear brother's future form. Much like Michael had love Lucifer, Dean loved Sam, and that love would always pay a factor. It would be easier to end Sam now as it was this love for his brother that drove Dean to say no. Lucifer didn't need Sam per se. Michael would kill him in any form.

"I got him, Mary," John retorted loudly and irritated, struggling to keep his hold on Dean. "This kid is a worm." He walked as quickly as he could toward Dean's room.

"Careful," Mary advised, her eye twitching as Dean's head almost smacked the door frame. "John," she hissed.

John, a forced grin as on his face, paused and pressed a kiss to Mary's lips. "I got him." Mary let out a deep sigh. "Oh, he is fine. Don't worry." His grip tightened on the boy as he crossed to Dean's new twin size bed, an upgrade from his fourth birthday. It was decked out in baseball decor, much like the rest of the room.

"No bed!" Dean yelled, a yawning escaping from his mouth. "N-not tired." Any energy that he once had vanished.

Shifting the now stilled young boy to one arm, John lowed himself to one knee. He pulled back the baseball termed comforter and soft placed Dean into the bed. He pushed himself up slightly and pulled the blanket back over Dean. After tucking the boy in, he leaned over and placed a kiss to his son's head. "Good night, Dean."

"Not s-sleepy," Dean replied, his eyelids becoming heavy.

Her frustration and irritation now laid forgotten, as Mary, happiness fulling her completely, crossed to the bed. With her round stomach, she struggled a bit as she lowered herself and placed a kiss to his head. "Night, Dean. The Angels are watching over you."

If Michael was human, he would snort. Mary, the brilliant hunter, couldn't have been righter if she tried, but she was wrong into why. Angels were watching Dean because he was the Michael's sword and needed to be protected. He was the weapon that heave would use to spite the demons of hell and the devil himself.

John helped Mary up as she straightened herself. When she was completely upright, John wrapped a protective arm around her stomach and turned her to the door. Mary, hesitating, glanced back as if she wanted to watch Dean drift into peaceful sleep. "Let's get you off your feet."

"I'm fine, John."

Not giving her an inch, John lead her to the door. "I have no doubt you were on your feet all day, taking care of everything. Please let me take care of you." Mary sighed heavily and allowed John to direct her out of the room, leaving the Archangel alone with Dean.

Michael, ignoring the pull of his grace from Raphael, stepped to the bed and stared hard at the boy. The innocence of Dean's soul shined, as if it was calling out to the Angel, and though Michael wasn't the biggest fan of humans—creatures with the potential to destroy the entire world-, he loved them as his father commanded. At first, he couldn't understand why his father had demanded this, but looking at Dean's bright soul, there was no denying how beautiful it was. In fact, Michael, who's age escaped even him, was a bit thrown to how magnificent it was. Michael, losing track of time sitting in the chair of Heaven, had seen souls before, but nothing compared to Dean's. It shone so brightly. He doubted it was due to the young boy's age.

Sometime later to ensure Dean had fallen sleep, Mary walked back into the room, drawing Michael's attention back to her. Her eyes shift back and forward, quickly scanning the room. Like she was on a mission, she meticulously examined every inch of the room. She nervously kept glancing back at the door, watching out for John. Again, Michael would snort if he were human. If Mary only knew who or what was in the room with her son. She pulled out an EMS, scanning each corner of the room twice over. She opened the closet and pushed the clothes out of the way. She did a few times as if she didn't trust herself. After she was satisfied, she turned to the two windows in the room. With each of them, she checked the locks, making sure they were secure.

Michael backed up from Dean and watched Mary as she showed off her hunter skill. There was no doubt, pregnant or not, that she could best future John on her worse day. How often did she do this, making sure that nothing broke in and hurt her baby? There was no doubt that Mary would hunt and kill anything or anyone who threated Dean or Sam. If it was the other way around where John died instead of Mary, she would've been a parent instead of a slave drive like John. She would protect her children from this life. That Michael was sure of.

Using the bed for support, she slowly lowered herself to the ground. Her arm shook beneath her weight. There wasn't much space under the bed as she had packed everything and everything under the bed in the order to stop things from hiding beneath it. If John knew why and believed her, he might not have been upset at the sight of Mary on her knees looking for demons, but he did not. Michael did not stay for that for conversation when John found her.

*O*O*

Dean wasn't a small child, but he looked tiny on the baseball field. Granted, any child would look tiny on the field of this size. Michael would state it was a comical to watch these small humans chase these little round hard balls. The adult humans, failing quit spectacular, tried to reign in the children for this mockery of a game—that was the best way that Michael could describe it. Most of the kids were just staring off in the distance like they were looking at ice cream on a hot day. There was a few that the parents had to force them still with veiled threats. Dean, on the other hand, was completely focused on the game. His eyes were glued to the ball, watching the kid swing at the tee.

Michael, the angel that he was, didn't understand the purpose or the fun in the game. Sure, he had seen quite a few games in his lifetime. He was old as time and had watched quite a few games. To name few, he had seen Game 5 of the 1956 World Series, Game 7 of the 1960 World Series, and Game 6 of 1975 World Series. He had seen countless sporting events, remembering them as if they happened yesterday. (Time pointless to him) His brother and sisters, even ones who dislike humans, enjoyed the games, enjoyed the beauty of them.

To the archangel, he thought of them as pointless. Was there nothing better to do than running in circles? At least with any other sport, there was a chance to steal the ball from the other team. Granted, all sports were pointless. After thousands of years watching these humans live and die, everything became pointless. It was repetitive after a while (the same could be said about his siblings and their whining). How many different ways could a person live and die without someone repeating it? The numbers did not matter as Michael had seen every death. Had experienced them all. He had heard their prayers, their fears. So, while he understood what humans saw in the game, just in the grand scheme of things, they were inconsequential.

Nevertheless, Dean's smile was as large as his face, and he loved every second of it. It didn't matter that the kids ran full speed into each other, slamming the other like small tanks, while they chased the ball. It didn't matter it took them 10 attempts to hit the ball off the tee. Dean loved it all, and his soul shined like brightest star. It called to Michael in a way no other soul called to him. It was the sun. It was both surprising and strange.

"I got it!" Dean yelled, as he picked up the ball. The volunteer parent directed to his left him to the first base. Dean threw it, his aim good, but it flew past the young child at first. This caused the army of children to rush first base while the parents tried to keep in place. "AH!"

Michael popped next to Dean, who was frowning. Something odd sparkled inside of the Angel at the frown, and he wasn't sure what he expected of it. But what he did know was that he didn't want to find out.

*O*O*

It was a few days later that Michael found himself once more in the Winchester Kansas home. John was away, leaving the exhausted Mary to tend to Dean, who was just as energetic as he was the other day. This time Dean was running around the back yard like he was a monkey on crack—though some of Michael's brothers truly already thought of him a monkey, mud monkey. The kid was caked in dirt, mostly likely from the small mud puddle under the slide, and watching the kid swing on his play set, he could give his brothers and sisters that. Dean sung on anything he could get his hands on. Yet, this didn't fit with Dean, who smiled and giggled like the sun.

It's odd, Michael thought, as he watched Dean without hesitation jump from a lower level of the play house. This kid has no fear. He tilted his head and just watched the young boy, pondering his future. The Angel didn't have a plan per se with Dean. He just needed to get the boy to trust him and get him to trust him from a young age. That way Dean would say yes when the time came and not fear Michael. Some might say he would be striping Dean of his free will, manipulating Dean of his choice, but this was for the greater good and Free Will was a lie, a master lie built by his father. There was a flip side to it that his Father never told anyone about. It was a trick.

Mary, smile and soapy hand, peaked out the window at Dean, checking on the dirty child. Dean noticed his mother and his smile blossomed. Once more, his soul was sparkled, and the small boy's wild ways only seemed to grow under his mother's smile. He waved at her as he rounded the play set and climbed up the 'rock' wall on the side. "Look Mommy! Look what I can do!" He pulled himself up and started to climb the walls of the play set.

The expression on Mary's face morphed into horror as Dean proceed to climb on top of the monkey bars and was trying to stand. "Dean, no!" she yelled, her voice cracking, as she disappeared from window. Being on the tall end of five months pregnant, Mary wasn't move as fast as she once did when she was chasing werewolves or vampires.

Michael looked up to Dean, who somehow managed to stand up on the bar. Okay, managed was a bit of a stretch. The four-year-old only succeed to balance for a second before he fell. From this height—an oversight on his mother if you asked the Angel—, there were only two possibilities. One, Dean would snap his neck and die, grant no angel would allow that to happen to Michael's sword. Or two, Dean broke a bone or two, screaming in pain all the way to the hospital. Michael didn't like either of those two possibilities. Taking a humanoid form—still invisible to everything besides another angel—flicked his hand into the air like he was directing a magically in his house. Dean, too young to understand physics, slowed down with a chuckle and drifted down to the ground. He was an feather in the wind, and he loved it.

A giggle, a sweet candy like, escaped Dean's lips as he softly dropped to his butt. "Again, again." Dean chuckled, clapping his hands

"Dean," Michael chastised sternly- his eye narrowing-, though he had yet to make himself visible to the child. His voice, if anything, would be the wind dancing through the leaves to any human ear. "No. You will hurt yourself."

Dean looked up, his eyes large, just as his mother came running out the house. She had a hand under her stomach, while the other flung back and forward an attempt to balance herself. Worried and concern plastered to her face. "Dean!" she yelled, her face red. "Are you okay?" she asked when she got to him. Panic rushed through her, as her hands searched everything, checking over inch of Dean's skin. She lifted his shirt up, firmly checking every bone. "What?! Not a scratch. How?" She asked, confused. Her voice went up in several levels in her surprise. There was not a single mark on him.

"My Angel protected me." Dean said, glancing over to Michael's direction.

Michael returned the stare, surprise warmed in his grace. Surely, the kid couldn't see him, right? He hadn't made himself visible to the boy yet, but yet, Dean was staring at him—or his essence at least. Feeling his essence. Maybe, it was because of who he was: his true vessel.

"What?" Mary asked, panic hidden just behind the whites of her eyes.

"My Angel, Mommy! You know. The Angels are always watching. You said that." Dean crunched up his fact and looked up at her, annoyance only a four-year-old year could muster.

Mary narrowed her eyes as she swept the area with her eyes. Her hunter days whispering in her ear. "I did say that." She said, placing a kiss to his forehead. "However, Angel or no Angel, promise me you won't do that again." She brushed the hair out of his face.

Dean looked toward Michael again, his eyes straining to see something. "I promise, Mommy."

Michael watched as Mary placed another kiss to Dean's head. She struggled a bit to get to her feet and wobbled once she was up. She stood there for a second, catching her breath. "Good, boy. Let's get you cleaned up." She said, placing her free hand on her stomach. "Sammy had enough fun for today."

"Oh," Dean uttered, his eyes large. "It's okay, Sammy. My Angel can watch you to." He reached up with his tiny hand and rubbed his mother's stomach. Even from a young age, Dean was already looking after Sam. It would be cute if these two weren't destined to kill each other.

Michael didn't allow that thought to linger as he returned back to heaven.

*O*O*

After their last interaction, a few weeks had passed since Michael had visited Dean. It wasn't because he was guilty. Angels didn't feel guilty. They felt nothing. They simply obeyed. Yet, he was uneasy about it. Dean was already protecting Sam, already falling into his 'future' ways of protecting the kid. Maybe, Dean could be broken of that, a child was a clean slate; yet, removal of that love would most likely change Dean for the worse. After seeing Dean's bright, brilliant soul, Michael wasn't in any hurry in doing that.

"Zoom," Dean hummed as he played with his cars on the floor in his bedroom. "Watch out!" he yelled, ramming his car into a truck. After the truck went flying and hitting the bed, he turned his attention the red mustang. "Going to get you!" he yelled

Michael popped down in front of Dean, watching the kids slam the cars into each other. The angel winked a few times as the metal car crashed against the other. Dean had hit his own fingers with the metal cars, his eyes winking, but it didn't slow him down. The kid kept playing like nothing happened, like it didn't hurt. A chuckle danced upon his young lips as his smiled reached his eyes. Once more, his soul was shining.

"Zoom, Zoooommmm." Dean sounded, pretending to be an engine.

Deciding not to be on a fly on the wall anymore, Michael made himself visible—only to Dean. Most of the time, angels could not speak to humans without a vessel, but Dean was his true Vessel. He was made for him. He could understand Michael better than any other human possibly could. "Dean," he called, finally taking a form. A form solely crafted for Dean to make him feel at ease. Now, Michael was not the most creative angel, and if you asked him, humans looked the same to him. John, being his last vessel, was the first person who came to mind, but Michael pushed that aside. He did not want to confuse the kid by looking like his father. Only one other human came to mind: Dean, which was why he took Dean's form. Now, he didn't take Dean's adult's form; instead, he took his 16-year-old form. He hoped this younger appearance wouldn't scare the kid.

The car dropped from Dean's hand and he turned around with wide eyes. His eyes zoomed in on the Angel. At first, Michael expected some kind of fear from the kid, but there was nothing. A smile graced his face. "Hi!" Dean waved, excitedly.

"Do you know who-" Michael started but cut before he could finish by a four energetic four year old.

"My Angel!" the Boy cheered when he got to his feet.

Michael couldn't help but smile at the soul. "I am."

Dean jumped to his feet and crossed to Michael, stopping before he could touch the angel, not that he could. "I knew it was you!" His voice carried down the hall.

Michael kneed down on knee in front of Dean, though keeping a distance from Dean. "Did you?" he asked, his head cocked to the side.

"Mommy and Daddy didn't believe me!" Dean's voice went up six levels, almost mind numbing. "Can you fly? Fly?! I want to fly!" He put his hands air and pretended flap his 'wings' as he ran in circles around his room. "Look I have wings!"

Watching the kid, Michael was left in awe as he watched his kid accept him without issue. This was the opposite of future Dean, who mistrusted everyone on principle, and it was a bit unnerving. "I see." He watched, as the kid jumped on the bed, almost falling on his face. It didn't slow him one bit as he jumped on the bed like a rabbit.

"You are going to break your neck," Michael stated slowly with a lazy eye roll.

Dean stopped and turned his attention to Michael. "You're no fun!"

Michael paused, thinking for a second. He was the sword of God, the first born. The current ruler of heaven, providing harsh punishment to those had disobeyed. If someone were to describe him, fun was not at the top or any part of the list. The word would most likely burn their tongues just thinking about it. "I have been told that before." His eyes followed the boy like a hawk.

A pout on his face, Dean spoke, "You act like a grown up!"

A smile threatened to break through on Michael's stiff face. "I am older than sands of time, Dean Winchester. I am older than your stars."

Dean, making a confused face, jumped off the bed, landing on the floor with a loud thump. "Like my mommy and daddy?"

"No, older." Children, unlike their adult counterparts, were so innocent and sweet, and their soul were like nothing else. It was a sight to behold.

Before Dean could answer, Mary popped her head into the room, her eyes zooming in on the small boy. Her stomach looked even larger than the last time Michael had visited Dean. "Who you talking to, Dean?" she asked.

Dean smiled up at her. "My Angel, Mommy!" He pointed toward Michael, who was nothing but air to Mary. "He's right there! See him?!"

A panicked look danced across Mary's face as she stared at the spot that Dean was pointing to. "Is he?" she asked, her hunter training kicking in. Dead may not have heard the panic in her voice but Michael spotted it a mile away.

The pout returned to Dean's face. "He's right here. Can't you see him?"

Mary shook her head. "No, but that's okay." Her tone went up slightly, her concern breaking through for a second. Most parents would not think twice with regards to imaginary friends, but those were parents that did not know about ghosts, monsters and demons that hide in the shadows. Mary would always think twice and act as if there was threat before she would allow herself to relax.

Michael decided that he didn't like that pout on Dean's face, even if that wasn't logical. It just didn't belong on his face or soul. "She cannot. Only you can see me as I am your angel."

Dean's eyes widen. "He says only I can see him as he's my angel, Mommy!"

"Oh, what's his name?" Mary asked, playing it cool.

Michael didn't want to give the young child his name as he didn't want it getting out that Michael, the Archangel was on Earth. And while Mary was one of the best, she was in no shape to protect the boy from an attack, and there would be an attack. Demons would take it was an open invitation to attack, regardless of their need to protect Sam. They were revolting beasts that he didn't want to deal with at the moment, especially around Dean. Demons, however, would not be his only problem. While as he was the Archangel who he could order the angels to stand down, it could start something along his siblings he didn't want to deal with. Yet, he could not not give his name, not when Dean turned that pout on him. Even his soul sulked at the silent, which the angel could not allow. "Michael." He told the boy.

"Michael!" Dean cheered, his soul jumping again.

Mary nodded with a smile. "Oh, his name is Michael?"

"Yes, Mommy! He saved me from getting a hurt!"

If his name were anything else, it probably would've alerted the Hunter and brought out the mamma bear more so than it already had been. His name was commonly used in prayers and church services, used more so than any other angelic name. Children were named after him. "I would not allow you to be hurt." That only got Dean smiling every louder.

Mary placed a kiss to the top of Dean's head, who tried to squirm away. "Not in front of my Angel, Mommy!"

"Oh, he won't mind."

"Mommy!"

Michael watched Mary cuddled the four-year-old with love. There was no doubt that Mary loved Dean and Sam more than anything in the world. John be damned. She would burn down the world if it meant she could protect these kids. She would probably slap John outside the head several times if knew what he would do. If she knew he would turn her children into hunters. She placed one more kiss to Dean's head before she let him go with a smile. "One second, Sweety," she uttered, turning to the door. As she disappeared and returned with an EMS scanner, it was clear that she meant business.

"What's that?" Dean asked.

Mary smiled. "Nothing important."

Leaning against the wall furthest from her, Michael watched as Mary went over every inch of the room with the EMS scanner. He could see the hidden fear written clearly on her face and how she willed there be nothing. A sigh passed her lips, finding nothing, but little did she know how useless that EMS scanner was. It wouldn't work on him, but she didn't need to know that. Then again, she would probably shit her pants if she knew that there was an Angel in the room with her.

*O*O*

"Michael!" Dean cheered from his spot on the bed when the Angel popped in. Dried tears lined his face as Mary had placed the child in timeout.

"Dean," Michael greeted, sounding much like king calling out for his son. There was a warmth in his grace that wasn't there weeks ago. It worried the Angel slightly, but Dean's soul greeted him with a breathtaking affection, and all of Michael's reservations disappeared. "Have you been behaving?" He asked, though knowing the truth. While he was ruling the heavens, the Archangel had been keeping an eye on the bright soul.

The boy faltered a bit, biting his bottom lip. "No." He paused, fear growing in his eyes. "Me don't like peas. They yucky!"

Food. This was one area of existence that Michael had no knowledge. He had seen memories, relived the memories of man, had entered countless heavens; however, he had never experienced food. He had not tasted the magic of food. No angel had. No angel could without tasting every atom. Though food was inconsequential in the grant scheme of things, Michael was curious about it.

When Michael didn't answer right away, a panic had befallen Dean and tears begun to fall. He let out a pained whimper. "Y-you aren't g-going l-leave, a-are you?" the child sobbed, as he rubbed his tiny eyes with his fists. A huge hiccups escaped his lips as his body shook. "D-daddy got so m-mad at m-me, and he l-left."

Fury surged through Michael as he thought about the papa Winchester. John wasn't going to win any parenting contests, and while he understood the lost of a love one would change a person, there was no excuse for future John's actions. He was just as bad as the demons who killed Mary. The demons may have stolen Mary from the boys John had stolen their father. "Dean," he voiced tenderly. "I shall not leave you."

Dean looked up, his eyes red. "Y-you promise?" he asked, hiccuping. "Daddy l-left when m-me threw peas at him." Another sob escaped his tremoring lips. There was more to the story, but that was unimportant.

"I promise, Dean Winchester, and I have never broken a promise in my entire existence." Michael stated, steadfast and serious. He did not care for the dimming of Dean's soul at the thought of his father being angry at him. That was unforgivable. No one was allowed to dim Dean's soul. Michael had no idea why this sudden protectiveness had spouted up. Maybe, it was due to the fact that Dean was his vessel and he must be protected. Whatever it was, anger surged through him.

The tears stopped as a smile broke across Dean's face. "Really?"

"Yes." Dean learned forward as if to receive a hug from the angel. Michael hesitated for a second, knowing he could not hug or feel the boy in his arms, but a thought popped into his head. He may not have a physical form; yet, he could hug the child with his grace, something that would be impossible to any other human. With a smile, he wrapped Dean with his grace, and Dean's soul soared in his arms.

Author Note:

In case anyone is wondering, it is Dylan Everett's Dean Winchester that I am picturing for the form Michael took. And before anyone goes, 'Michael's needs a vessel to appear/communicate with a human,' that is not 100% true. Lucifer didn't do that when he first appeared to Nick. He just took the form of Nick's dead wife. For this story and in my head, you can communicate with your vessel without issue.

And I shall always see John as a horrible father. If you disagree, you will have to fight me on that. He should have given the kids to Bobby as Bobby was a much better father. I have no doubt Mary would have skinned John alive for making her kids into hunters. Poor Dean and Sam never had a chance. Granted, the world is better off though,

Anyhow, let me know what you think. Yes, this is a one shot. I go back and forth on continuing this.