SPN Oneshots

•Michael.

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SPN Drabble.
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Michael had been an off putting person ever since arriving to the Bunker, injured and powered down, and needing a place to claim his stay for the time.

He had put off everyone's mood with his unnerving aura, and frankly, was uneasily the already tense atmosphere provided in the Bunker.

In the 'wise words' of Dean, Michael's presence was,
"Even challenging for the nut-casing, clinical world of shrinks."

Or something even more 'elegantly' crafted like,
"If I shoved a pine tree up the dude's ass, I'd get toothpicks in tenfold."

Which, you never logically should've humored, but you did find funny. No matter how horrific the second one may have been.

You figured one of the many causes for the ArchAngel's radiating discomfort probably not only had to do with being in his past enemies hide away, but also with you.

Before you had ever met the Winchester crew, you knew Adam and the Milligan family. They had practically incorporated you into their own family, as yours had left ages ago.

And now that Kate was dead, and Adam was hidden away from the light of day, and yourself, you'd expect this much from the Angel. He wasn't the best with his words, but this was taking everything to an extremist level.

You often found him hiding behind the library nooks, indulging within the various pages of lore and encyclopedias of monsters, so you knew he'd be here one day or another.

You had caught Michael off guard on one of those days, coming up from behind where he chose to seat himself, and quickly shutting a thick leather book as it slammed the pages together.

The ArchAngel had nearly jumped out of his skin, and out of the chair. He didn't think you of all people would be able to sneak up undetected, but it was too late to do anything else. And he wasn't so much a coward as to run.

"I've been meaning to talk to you, but you're awfully good at escaping all of my attempts at questioning you."

Michael rolled his neck and shoulders before meeting you with an express grimace and nervousness.

"That was the goal."

"I'm not here for your minimalist answers, just so you know. If you're going to be shacked up with my best friend... My brother. You should talk. To me at least."

You set the book down neatly with others of its genre onto a dainty, side table. Your features stern as you towered over the Angels seated form.

"What do you wish to know?"

Michael tightly whispered out, the corner of his lips turning downward into a pessimistic frown.

It looked so much like when you'd tease Adam for your stupid jokes and various tedious things.
The same frown you'd earn when Adam rolled his eyes at your pranks.
It only made you think more about your foster mom and brother.

That made your heart hurt in memory, reminding you of everything that happened these last few years.

It made your throat tighten impossibly harder, almost like you mourned the death of the very person that was still in front of you.

But he was still there, somewhere, hidden far away from your grasp.

"Why are you running from me? You have no problem talking to everyone else here."

You coughed out as you tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, welling up and blurring your vision.

Michael sat there in silence as he watched a few stray tears fall down the corners of your face, slipping down your neckline, and resting in your collar.