Title: warm blood breaking out like a rose

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton.

Warnings: spoilers for aired season four; slight AU

Pairings: none stated

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 580

Point of view: third

Note: written the afternoon before 4.20 aired, unspoiled. Pure speculation at that point, now rendered AUish

Michael delivers the summons himself. He could have sent any angel, from Gabriel—the true messenger, after all—to the youngest cherub, but it has been so long since he left the Heavens… a war is being fought, perhaps the greatest in existence, maybe even the last. He has yet to fight in it, by Father's decree. But he has not yet been forbidden to deliver a message, so he goes.

Gabriel and Raphael join him on his flight out of Heaven. Be careful, Gabriel tells him. Our Fallen brother is clever. Raphael warns, You must be wary for his traps.

Michael thanks them for the sentiment. For a moment he wonders who else beside Ananchel is resentful that only they have stood in Father's true presence. He shakes off the worry and arrows in on the child. All angels feel the pull, Michael knows. The Winchester boy—Alistair's favored pupil, a prodigy with a blade. Maybe if so many hadn't been avoiding him, someone would have seen Uriel's treachery. But all angels are so apprehensive at any hint of disobedience, of temptation—both Winchesters are temptation. Even Michael can't deny it. That is why Castiel had allowed Uriel to lead him.

Castiel meets him outside the Winchester hotel room. Both are in their true form, invisible to a human gaze. Michael studies his younger brother, noting how weary Castiel looks.

You are to return home, Michael tells him.

I will not leave them, Castiel replies. I will not leave Dean. He tenses, expecting a rebuke.

Why are they more important than a Command from On High? Michael asks.

Castiel scoffs. He has been among humans too long. I can no longer trust Commands given to me, he says.

Michael nods. I understand that, Brother. He pauses. Do you know who I am? He has been cloistered with Father for a long time, after all.

Castiel's shock is humorous. You are the Archangel Michael, he answers carefully, before his gaze sharpens. Aren't you?

Yes, Michael says. I will guard your humans while you are gone. Castiel. This Command must be obeyed.

What is the Command? Castiel asks.

Michael looks him right in the eye, letting the full weight of his age and power settle on his younger brother. Father wishes to speak with you, he says. Face to face.

Castiel ceases all motion. What?

Go home, Michael says. Speak with Him. I will be with your humans.

Castiel glances to the door, behind which the Winchester brothers slumber. Michael touches their dreams for a moment—bloodfearbladedeath and firebrotherpowerblood—soothing them into quiet peace.

You may be the Archangel Michael, Castiel murmurs, preparing himself for flight. I may be more of a scribe than a warrior. But if you cause harm to come upon them, I will— He pauses, glancing up. I will be wrathful, he finishes.

It is not the greatest threat Michael has ever heard. He went toe to toe with Sammael as his elder brother turned to Lucifer. He fought both Moloch and Beelzebub at once.

Castiel's threat would be laughable—should, by all rights, be laughable. But he is sincere. There is no hesitation in him. And that is a dangerous thing.

He has been among humans too long.

He waits until Michael acknowledges his oath with a nod and then launches into the sky.

What will you tell him, Father? Michael asks.

Father whispers, Hush, my boy. That would ruin the ending.