He is only gone for an hour at the most. It's nearly 3am when he leaves, Castiel's warning echoing in his mind. Adam is sleeping peacefully and he doesn't think that will change before he gets back. With a soft kiss to the boy's forehead, he disappears from the room, reappearing minutes later at the edge of a group of young angels. They stand over something on the ground and Michael's heart sinks. He brought the blade, as Castiel asked, and now he can see why. Gradually, the conversation trails off as the angels catch sight of him, and all nod respectfully at him. The figure on the ground remains motionless, and as the group parts, Michael sees the wings burnt onto the ground either side of the small angel. Probably a relatively young one. Certainly not one who deserved to die.
"Who did this?" They all point silently to an angel, a few inches taller than Michael, who folds his arms defiantly, still holding the bloodied blade. Michael steps forward, tilting his chin up fractionally to meet the angels eyes, and his wings spread either side of him, shadowy; at least twice the size of those of the angel on the ground. Most of the younger angels stare open mouthed, their own wings twitching slightly. The angel in front of Michael cowers a little as the archangel's eyes flash, and holds the blade up. Not that he gets a chance to use it. Michael's hand touches the young angel's forehead and the angel immediately starts to burn.
He burns. The other angels step back, terrified, and Michael grimaces. This isn't how he wants their first experience of meeting an archangel to go, but he knows he has to do it. When the body falls to the floor, Michael retrieves the blade, nods at the angels, and disappears.
The clock in the motel room reads 4am when he reappears. The first thing he hears is a stifled sobbing coming from the bed. Adam lies curled in a ball, his face pressed into his knees. Even as Michael watches, his whole body starts to shudder and the whimpers get louder. "Michael, no, please no," Adam sobs, before his words cut off into indistinguishable weeping. Michael stands rooted to the spot for a moment before he flies to the bed, kneeling next to it and touching Adam's cheek gently. He considers using his grace on the boy to dispel the dream, when Adam jolts awake, sitting up suddenly. "Michael?" Michael shifts to sit on the bed next to Adam, wrapping his arms tightly around the boy and pulling him back against his chest. "I'm here," he murmurs gently. Adam leans back against him, wiping tears from his cheeks. "Did you go somewhere?" he asks, noting Michael's jacket and shoes with slight surprise. He tends to be a light sleeper and the fact that Michael went out and came back without him noticing is odd. Then again Michael is an archangel. Adam supposes that if he doesn't want to be noticed, he won't be. Michael nods, rocking Adam gently, and the blond immediately asks why, tensing. "An angel died a few towns away. Don't worry," he adds as Adam makes to speak, "the angel who killed him is dead." Adam nods in satisfaction and turns to kiss Michael quickly. The archangel grins and pulls the covers over Adam. "It's 4:15. Go to sleep again. I'll guard your dreams." He rocks Adam again, lulling the boy to sleep with whispered Enochian phrases that somehow manage to make their way into Adam's dreams.