#florancemilligan

If someone had told Michael that ten earth years in a cage would end and in nine years he would be walking with his seven-year-old daughter, he would not have believed it. But the archangel who had lived through it all would have believed it. Jack had brought his brothers back, Adam had become close to Dean and Sam, Lucifer had gotten a second chance, but Jack had not given his grandfather a second chance.

And yet, on the way to the supermarket, in the winter weather, when there was a whole bunch of snow, it was pleasant to walk. Florence slipped in places, and sometimes fell, but just as quickly got up to go on. Watching his daughter, he wondered what the future held for her. Would she take on his burden as a warrior? Would she take his place - like Jack took his grandfather's place?

He was worried about her. He was surprised that she was born a Nephilim and not an ordinary person. And yet Jack had given her childhood by not letting her grow up right away, so that she could enjoy what he himself had never had.

Michael walked forward, not even noticing that Florence had fallen behind a little, until a snowball flew at his back. He turned around at her ringing laughter.

"Take that!" she exclaimed joyfully, already swinging a second snowball. But she missed - her father dodged with a deliberately theatrical slant.

"Oh, you're attacking an archangel? Boldly," Michael grinned. "I'll have to defend myself."

He squeezed the snow in his palm - and it immediately became as dense as ice. One precise throw - and the snowball hit her stomach. Florence snorted and giggled in surprise.

"Hey! So unfair!" She grabbed another snowball and rushed to attack. — I thought you'd be boring! But you know how to have fun!

— I'm… learning, — he admitted, letting her hit him in the side. — With you, it's different. I didn't know it was possible.

— Were you sad when I was born? — she asked suddenly, looking up at him seriously.

He dropped to one knee and looked into her eyes.

— No. I was broken. But then you laughed — for the first time. And I realized that not all was lost. Even for me.

Florence hugged him around the neck, burying her nose in the collar of his jacket.

— Then let's never get lost, okay?

— I promise, — Michael whispered. — Not in this or any other universe.

He picked her up in his arms. She laughed, letting go of the last of the snow. Her short blond hair peeked out from under the hat with earflaps that always made him laugh.

If he could only keep one memory, he would choose this trip to the store. This winter. This laughter. This small hand in his.

How good that little Flo insisted on walking.

⸻