Michael was hiding in the ruins of something that used to be a church. It barely offered any protection against the elements.

His brothers abandoned him, cast him out. They said he was tainted and corrupted after such a long time in the Cage, that he was not worthy to return to Heaven. And now he was lost, powerless, with broken wings, feeling cold all the time. What little remained from his Grace was fading away and he had no way to stop it. He was suffering from a painful cough that only got worse with time.

He sighed and tried to find a more or less comfortable position to rest. This was the worst thing. He needed sleep now. He felt weak and ashamed.

Michael was finally free, but it didn’t mean things got any better. The Cage affected him badly, and he was in a bad shape when he got out, his Grace damaged by the magic wards that were never meant for him. As he tried to collect strength to go back to Heaven, he was attacked by something that looked human but Michael could see the dark smoke hidden under the meatsuit. Not a demon, something much older and more powerful. Something they had thought was safely locked away.

Balthazar finds the bottle on his doorstep on his way home from work. It takes him a moment to realize, recognize, the handwriting. Glancing around, he’s disappointed that his brother did not stay to say hello. 

//Go, Blue, go!

[I've had half a big Monster, a red bull, and two double shots so far