1000 Ships, 1000 oneshots, 1000 followers

*Michifer

Warning: A little angsty?

In the beginning, there was the world.

And there was Michifer.

Humans had been around for thousands of years, of course, but that was nothing compared to the angels. There were millennia that had gone by without even a whisper of the humans ever existing. Hundreds of years when not even the monkeys that they'd evolved from had existed. 

Back then the angels hadn't been forced to remain in heaven. They could wander the earth as they liked, pick out the parts that they preferred. Not many angels liked to go down there, but there were a few.

The archangels loved it, because, unlike in heaven, on Earth they were kings. They ruled over the animals, over the bacteria and plants, and, most importantly, over the lesser angels that were curious enough to explore. 

Among them were Castiel, naturally, but also Hannah, Anabiel, Aniel, Balthazar, Metatron, Benjamin, Aziraphale, Samandriel, and a few others. There Lucifer, Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, and Raphael were their leaders. But some of the angels were closer than others. 

Michael and Lucifer. The two destined to fight in the apocalypse, it written in fate for them to destroy each other. The other angels never saw it happening. Now when it was obvious to everyone that the two loved each other.

They liked earth. They stayed on it for centuries at a time, walking through forests, deserts, exploring everything the rich, beautiful place had to offer.

But then the humans came, and Lucifer was abandoned, thrown into a cage.

Michael never told anyone how much he thought it was wrong. How he hated that Lucifer was trapped. He continued to wander the Earth, but now he looked for an opening to the cage. A way to free the archangel he cared for. He found none.

Then Michael thought to look in the tablets. If anything could have a way to open the cage, it would be on them. But Metatron had cast the tablets down onto Earth for the prophets to find. Michael was furious, and so he searched the Earth again, this time for tablets.

Around him, humans evolved. Mud huts became stone cottages, stone cottages became concrete structures, concrete became steel. They climbed higher, higher, always wanting more, needing more and more.

They were greedy. Michael had known that from the start. Hated that. One of the things he had so admired about Lucifer was his selflessness. But now the humans treated his love like a monster. They threw Lucifer's name around like a curse, that he was all evil and all evil only. No one remembered the angel Michael had known so well.

Then, finally, the apocalypse had arrived. Lilith died, and Lucifer was freed. Free, after so so so long. Michael sought him out first, while the others in heaven focused on making the Winchesters say yes. Michael didn't care about vessels. He didn't want to convince Dean Winchester of anything. He just wanted Lucifer.

But millennia spent in a cage of solitude had changed him. How could it not? Lucifer wanted the apocalypse now. He wanted the end of it all. The end of humans, and Michael couldn't blame him. Humans had put him in that cage, and if they were gone? Well, then things would go back to the way they used to be, with him and Michael wandering the earth in peace, hand in hand. Nothing vile or wrong about it. Just them.

So Lucifer asked for Sam Winchester, and Sam refused. The angels forced Dean Winchester, and he refused.

It made sense to Michael. The humans didn't know what the world was before. They didn't know the peace that he and Lucifer needed once more, and so badly. They fought and they fought, because that's all the humans ever did. 

Michael accepted Adam because he didn't care about vessels. If it got the job done, the humans gone, he was happy with it. Lucifer even got Sam, eventually.

But nothing was simple.

It occurred to Michael too late that the world expected them to fight. He was expected to kill Lucifer. Kill the one he'd spent so long waiting for. Kill the only one who mattered. It was wrong, in his eyes. And even though Lucifer had gone darker inside, he was confident that Lucifer would not harm him. Not after everything.

But they weren't the only desperate angels.

Anabiel, Anna, had been desperate. Had been cast down because of it. Gabriel had been desperate for, of all things, to save the lives of a minor god and the Winchesters, particularly the one Lucifer now wore. Gabriel had died for it. For nothing. And Castiel. Sweet, naive, soldier Castiel. Willing to molotov cocktail Michael himself for the sake of Dean Winchester, the one who had even been left out of the fight entirely now that Adam was there.

They were too desperate, Michael realized. Too hopeless without Chuck at their side. But then he and Lucifer had been cast back into the cage, and he saw what his brother had dealt with for so many centuries.

It was painful. Painful to see Lucifer thrown back in. After so long, he'd been given a mere glimpse of the world again before being tossed back in the cage. It was cruel.

Michael had done his best to help his brother while they were trapped. He had tried and tried, and he thought it had worked. He still saw that angel he loved behind the cruel mask that had been painted on by humans. He was still there.

But then Lucifer had gotten out again. Michael expected him to help him out too. Michael, after all, had spent ages wandering the earth, looking for anything that might help. Surely Lucifer would do the same for him?

He hadn't. 

He hadn't even spent a human second trying. Instead, Lucifer had wasted his time, and brought a Nephillim into the world instead. He'd gotten killed, and deserved it.

It had broken something inside of Michael, not to know that Lucifer was dead, but to know that he hadn't even tried. That he hadn't cared for a moment about what Michael had cared for all of history about.

And, of all creatures, Adam had been the one to talk to him. To assure him that it would be fine. That everyone eventually betrayed you- there was just nothing you could do about it. Michael saw now the logic of the humans, and found that it was more angelic than he realized.

They had escaped the cage, yes, but Michael had no intention of helping anyone anymore. He didn't care about Chuck. Didn't care about Lucifer. For once, the angel would be selfless. He had been left to rot, not worthy of any.

He no longer cared what any of them did.

And, even though he was dead and gone, Michael got the feeling that Lucifer accepted that.

In the beginning, there was the world. 

Now, there was only Michael.