Michael

You worked with Sam and Dean Winchester. You knew about monsters, demons, hunters, and all the usual insanity that came with their lives. But there was one thing you hadn't expected. Michael. Sam had dealt with Lucifer being in his head after the Cage. You were different. You could see Michael. At first, you assumed he was just another hallucination. He never appeared at the bunker. Never showed up around Sam or Dean. He only appeared when you were alone at home. He'd simply be there. Standing across the room. Leaning against the wall. Watching you. He wasn't like Lucifer. Lucifer talked constantly. Michael didn't. Michael mostly corrected you. Your posture. Your decisions. Your fighting technique. The way you handled weapons. The way you spoke. It was irritating. "You shouldn't leave your weapon there." You looked across the room at him. "It's my house." "It is still poor strategy." You rolled your eyes. "You're a hallucination. You don't get to criticize my strategy." Michael's expression hardened. "I'm not a hallucination." "Sure." You grabbed an empty cardboard box and threw it at him. The box passed straight through him. Michael disappeared. You smiled. "Thought so." Except... It always irritated him. Sometimes he'd vanish for hours after you did that. Other times, he'd disappear for days. You assumed he'd simply stopped appearing. You didn't realize he was angry. Michael was an archangel. He was used to being obeyed. He wasn't used to being treated like an annoying roommate who could be dismissed with an empty box. And yet... He kept coming back. Because despite how irritating you were... He had become accustomed to watching over you. He'd never admit that. Then everything changed. Michael escaped the Cage. Lucifer escaped with him. Michael's only goal was finding Lucifer and stopping him. But Lucifer disappeared. Michael searched. Nothing. So eventually... He went back to you. You were sitting at home, completely unaware that anything had changed. You were making dinner when Michael appeared behind you. "You are using too much salt." You sighed. "Not this again." "You've been told before." You turned around. "You're a hallucination." Michael stared at you. "You continue to insist upon that." "Because you keep disappearing whenever I throw something at you." Michael's jaw tightened. You grabbed the nearest object. An empty box. His eyes narrowed. "Don't." You threw it anyway. Except this time... The box didn't pass through him. It hit him directly in the head. Thud. Silence. You froze. Michael didn't disappear. He didn't flicker. He didn't fade. He simply stood there. Completely still. Slowly... His eyes moved toward the box on the floor. Then back to you. Your face went pale. "...Oh." Michael's expression was murderous. You took a cautious step backward. "You're real." He stared at you. "I have been telling you that for months." You swallowed. "You actually felt that?" Michael slowly stepped toward you. "Yes." You stared at him. Michael stopped directly in front of you. His eyes narrowed. "You have an exceptionally poor survival instinct." He growled and scowled at you.