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My Way Home Is Through You

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Michael had just realised the mistake he had made, the tears streaking down his face, knowing he had just lost the best thing he had ever had. And all because he was seeking more power.

He sat there as his grace faded away, the once most powerful archangel, now weaker than even a human, and it was all his fault.

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He woke up in the field. 

Looking around, he realized this was where it happened. 

Where Castiel burned his body and he fell into the cage. With Lucifer.

He scanned the area, looking for his brother, thinking he was going to find him. 

Thinking now was the destined time. The fight had arrived.

But he saw nothing. 

Nothing at all. 

Did his father drag him out? He had no idea.

The thought of it being his father was pushed away, the archangel thinking of his father as dead, or just uncaring for all his creations.

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He walked through the field, making his way out and into a street.

A car honked at him, the driver flipping him off as he attempted to speed away. But the archangel wouldn’t let a mere human disrespect him.

Snapping his fingers, the car filled with blood, bits of flesh splattering across the windows, the vehicle looking like a scene from some horror movie.

Michael walked away as the townspeople huddled around the car, screams and the sound of retching getting quieter as he got further away.

The archangel found himself walking for days, his grace low and his body weak. 

He knew he had to rest.

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He stopped in another small town, much smaller than the one he awoke in.

Making his way to the motel, he asked for the largest room they had, not bothering to pay. 

For he was the Prince of Heaven. He should be allowed free passage to anything.

The worker attempted to stop him. But a glare from the man in front of him made the whimpering teenager shrink away, running back to the counter, shaking with fear.

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For the next few weeks, Michael simply rested in the room. 

He wondered what it would be like to sleep, hoping it would help him heal faster. 

But he couldn’t. God didn’t provide the luxury of rest upon the angels.

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He ventured out to the world, randomly hopping from town to town, unsure of what to do.

Michael stopped up in Minnesota, the town cosy and quiet.

It seemed as though he actually began appreciating the human life. 

He loved going for walks on earth, seeing the families together and happy.

He desperately wished he was close to his brothers and father like this, but his attempts to get into heaven had failed, the paradise being completely blocked off.

Stepping into the little diner, he saw the most beautiful creation of all. 

Y/n.

He couldn’t help but stare at the young man, his smile bright and his eyes shining.

Michael could see his entire soul, vibrant and joyous.

There was no stopping him, his instincts dragging him to the man and immediately taking him into a bone crushing hug.

Y/n stood shocked at first, panic taking over a few seconds later. 

He pushed the man off him, staring into his eyes and feeling a sudden peace.

For the first time in his existence, Michael let go of everything. 

The single touch from y/n allowed him to see his entire life, the happy memories from his childhood, the birthdays, holidays and boyfriends. 

He saw the sad memories, the death of his parents, breakups and loneliness. 

But y/n always overcame these difficulties. 

Michael knew this was the most precious soul of all.

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The visits by the angel became a whole lot more frequent, usually every day, y/n looking forward to the visits from the crazy hot guy who kept flirting with him. 

He had no idea when he moved to the little town that he’d find someone interested in him, yet here he was. 

Completely hot, with his sharp cheekbones, pointed jaw and stunning dark green eyes. 

His lips red and his dark hair contrasting with it. 

This was the prettiest man in the world.

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Eventually Michael asked y/n out, his limited knowledge of human interactions leading him to simply drag the human to the park, a picnic basket in his hand, having watched a few romantic movies to try and get some ideas. 

Y/n chuckled to himself, his smile telling Michael all he needed to know.

Their relationship just blossomed easily, feeling at home with each other. 

The archangel completely forgot about heaven, or any problems that might have been occurring up there. 

He just wanted to spend his time with y/n.

Y/n was amazed by Michael. 

He didn’t know how a man like this could exist. 

He was hot. Like crazy hot and very well hung. Like huge. 

On top of that, Michael was the sweetest man. 

Strange? Yes. 

He wasn’t all that good with other people either, just usually ignoring them. 

But to y/n, he was gentle and kind, making sure the man had everything he wanted.

Michael could see the way y/n’s soul brightened when he came around. 

It made him proud, thinking that he could provide such joy and happiness to someone.

He never would have thought he would care about humans, at all. 

He still didn’t. Not really. 

But for y/n, he would try.

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It was a few months after they met, the archangel moving into the house y/n owned after three months, that Michael saw him.

He was stood on the corner of the street, across their house, outside the diner. 

Wherever he turned, Michael saw the man he knew well.

One day, he followed him, trying to figure out what the hell he was doing here.

Running into the little woods, he stood in a clearing, sure the man went this way.

The snapping of a twig got his attention, his head turning to see the scribe there.

They conversed for hours, Michael listening intently. 

He didn’t care about heaven. 

Well, he hadn’t for months now. 

But after hearing all of this, hearing the scribe’s plan to take over, giving Michael control over most of the angels, well, he had to do it.

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For the next few weeks, Michael did everything he was told, trying desperately to get back up there, realizing just how much he wanted to go to heaven, just for even a second. 

It helped that he was promised his power. A return to glory.

But then the day came, the instructions passed on by the angel, conflicting Michael. 

He didn’t want to do this. He shouldn’t have to.

There was no way he could, but as the days passed by, the thoughts of heaven, the place he spent millennia in, filled his mind and his desperation grew.

His mind was clouded with nostalgia and memories, obscuring any sort of sense he had, feeling as though he needed to do this. 

This was the right thing to do. For himself. For the angels. And for the entire world.

So, he went back home after finding the scribe again, obtaining the weapon which he needed to use.

Stepping into the house, he smelt the delicious aroma of chicken and mash, a few steamed vegetables on the table.

He loved this food. 

He knew y/n had made this, just for him. Angels couldn’t taste food, just molecules.

However, Michael wasn’t just an angel, he was an archangel. 

He decided he’d switch his senses on, loving the pride that would paint itself on y/n’s face when he ate the food, humming in appreciation.

Michael pushed the thoughts back, solely focused on the mission. 

He had become the soldier again. The commander of heaven. The Prince. 

He had to do this.

Stepping into the kitchen, y/n stopped his singing and turned around, looking at his angel and smiling, stepping forward and placing a kiss on his lips.

Pulling his head back, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion, seeing the internal struggle in the man’s eyes.

The confusion was replaced with terror, seeing the green eyes glowing, a bright light emitting itself.

Y/n always felt as though there was something strange about Michael. 

Yet, he never thought much about it, not until now. 

Not until the man he loved was glowing, the pure white wings sprouting from his back.

Michael stepped forward, plunging the dagger into y/n’s heart, the human gripping onto the angel’s arms, his eyes screaming with betrayal and hurt, confused as to why he was doing this.

Wasn’t he good enough? Didn’t he love enough? What did he do that was so wrong? So wrong to warrant death?

Tears slipped out of y/n’s eyes. 

Michael couldn’t see this anymore. 

Placing his hand onto y/n’s head, ignoring the pleading look the human gave him, he burnt y/n. 

His eyes now gone, replaced with holes, burnt around the edges, as his soul was destroyed by the dagger.

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Michael realized the mistake he had just made. 

The second he felt y/n’s soul gone, he sensed something break within himself. 

He had made the biggest mistake. 

He had given up the one thing that made him whole, the one thing that kept him happy.

He desperately tried to heal the burnt man in front of him, crying and sobbing as he attempted to push his grace into y/n’s body, hoping it would fix his soul, hoping it would close the wounds.

Unfortunately, that wouldn’t happen. 

The second Michael destroyed y/n’s soul, he unwittingly destroyed half of his own, the first touch in the diner connecting the two soulmates, destined to be together.

Michael sat on the kitchen floor, sobbing as he cradled his dead lover’s body in his arms, not able to get the look of hurt and sadness out of his memory.

Metatron watched from above, knowing that now, there was no one powerful enough to stop him. 

He admired his work, seeing the oldest archangel’s feathers shedding one by one, leaving his wings bare as his grace faded, destroyed along with y/n’s soul.

Michael would never have the chance to see y/n again, for there was no heaven, no hell and no purgatory for him. 

The only thing now was nothingness.