"Good day, thank you for contacting Camp D & A. My name is Michael, how may I be of service today?"

That was Michael's weeks in a simple nutshell. Both The Winchester's and Novak's went cold turkey on him after the incident, even his best friend treated him like a lost soul in the wind. He spent most of his time working to make sure the camp was back up and running again after the investigation, but an agreement was signed that certain areas within the camp were to remain restricted from the public. Michael had no choice but to say yes, or else the camp would run itself into the ground.

Obviously the publicity didn't favour the camp either. They were accused of misconduct and lack of safety checks; however he couldn't let those allegations get the better of him. He may of lost a best friend, a kid that was a baby brother to him and all that he worked for - Michael wanted to rebuild the place for Gabriel, but also for his own sanity.

He still lived in the same cabin, despite staff begged him to move closer to the headquarters he still refused. No one truly knew what made him stay in that rundown place - the memories, or the trauma? Either way, it was his little home.

It was coming close to the start of the Tuesday night, and Michael had a long walk back from headquarters to his cabin. HQ was located at the entrance of the camp on the left, hidden behind a few trees so that the scenery wouldn't be destroyed with an ugly looking building. Michael was the last one to leave, so he made his remaining time there brief. He made sure every door was locked up behind him, that every light was switched off. He took the elevator down to the ground floor, the casual music of bongos playing faintly in the confined space. He leaned against the wall that was opposite the wall, his eyes focused on the door.

It wasn't long before the doors opened and he walked towards the exit. He was in no rush, he didn't have anyone waiting at the cabin to greet him like before, so he could leisurely amble his way back at his own pace. He dragged his feet against the carpet until he reached the automatic doors, sliding open with ease. His eyes looked up at the darkened sky - it was raining. It wasn't heavy rain, but soft and graceful rain. Being Michael, he didn't have an umbrella at hand, so he locked up the auto doors and raised his jacket hood over his head, and began to walk.

The camp was dark and silent. Not many visitors were occupying the camp at the time; possibly a group of twenty at most. This meant that the site grounds were eerily empty with a few childish screams echoing through the forests to where the other cabins were located. The sound of his feet against the gravel felt strange to him, the gravel felt disturbed. He couldn't see the floor due to the lack of lighting around the area; but it didn't feel as smooth as it normally did. His journey up the hill was smooth and painless, but the more he got closer to the cabin the more he felt on edge.

First the tracks were disturbed. As he climbed the hill, the cabin looked different, like something had changed about it. A shadowy object loomed next to the cabin, but the distance made it harder to tell what it was. His pace began to quicken, he began to breathe heavier as he strode up the hill with urgency. The rain began to beat down quicker and heavier too, catching in his hair and within his clothes. The object seemed to be a car, a matte jet black car but it wasn't his car. Michael always parked his car at the bottom of the hill, and no way could some foolish kids have pushed it up the hill considering the steepness.

He got closer to the main door, looking around the area. None of the windows seemed smashed in, or opened. The car surely couldn't of been there long, but it led Michael to many questions. He was in HQ for the past eight hours, and it was currently 22:46 according to his watch. He would of seen a car driving up into the camp, and would of seen it on the surveillance footage. He could view the footage from the office room upstairs in the cabin, all he had to do was get in to see it.

He fumbled for his keys and walked up to the door, dropping the keys against the wooden patio. Within the door lock, there were two black picks hanging out, barely staying in the lock. His eyes scanned the door and noticed no damages to the door, but that the door was open slightly, enough to let a draft in. He pushed open the door with a mighty force, making sure whoever was in the house clear that Michael was home.

He closed the door behind him, bolting it shut and placing a chair against the handle. He scurried into the kitchen and grabbed a large kitchen knife from the counter and followed the wet footprints up the stairs. His steps were silent, moving around the cabin without making a sound. The prints led towards Gabriel's and Sam's room, the door was wide open. He shuffled against the wall towards the room, gripping the knife with a force that made his knuckles turn white. He was standing opposite the door, holding the handle in his palm.

Michael was unable to enter his room because it was left exactly how Gabriel left it. In a mess. It was all that he had left to remember the little shit, and knowing someone was in there possibly ruining the place only angered him more. He bust in the door as it slammed against the wall, the figure standing in the middle of the room. "I suggest you get the fuck out of this cabin, or else I'm going to chop you up into minced meat and feed you to the hounds," he threatened with a snarl. The knife was pointing towards the figure, who just stood there frozen. He inhaled once more. "I SAID -" he began to shout but the figure got on his knees and begged.

"Mike don't kill me please! The readers wouldn't want me dead, they've already witnessed the death of baby Gabriel they can't have me gone too!"

Michael's eyes widen as he dropped the knife on the floor, scrambling over to Lucifer. He pulled him into the tightest hug possible, burying his head in his dearest friend's chest. "Where... Why are you here?" He whispered as he tried to gain his energy back.

"Michael," he lifted up his friend's head, allowing their eyes to meet. Lucifer's were filled with fresh tears in his eyes, threatening to race down his face. "I'm... I'm g-going insane," he could barely choke out over his tears and sobs as he finally broke down. Michael pulled him into his body and cuddled him, trying to soothe his friend. "Gabriel is haunting me," were the words that made the room grow silent. Michael felt his blood run cold, like a chilly hand ran down his spine. Lucifer had stopped crying, and was staring off into the darkness.

"What do you mean he's haunting you Lucifer? Ghosts aren't real-"

"Then explain... that." Lucifer's hand shakily lifted up to point at the floor of the corridor, where a single golden orchid laid.