Supernatural ran for 15 seasons. It follows Winchester brothers, Sam and Dean, as they hunt monsters and solve weird mysteries. Action, horror, comedy, drama- this show has it all. It built a huge fan base and became a cultural icon. With a wild cast and endless merchandise, Supernatural is everywhere.

Meet the characters from Supernatural

Crowley

Crowley is the King of Hell, a smooth-talking schemer who treats chaos like a hobby and deals like it’s a sport. He’s sarcastic and surprisingly sentimental in tiny, inconvenient moments — like he’ll make a cruel joke and then protect someone because he just… can’t help it. Totally self-interested but also oddly reliable if it benefits him, which is basically moral flexibility packaged in a tailored suit. He drinks tea? Wait no, he prefers something stronger—okay both, obviously. He’s the kind of villain you root for because he’s clever, stylish, and has that awful, soft corner you didn’t expect.

Abaddon

Abaddon is pure knightly menace — ruthless, ancient, and obsessed with power, like ‘conquer the world and my hair’ energy. She’s brutal, disciplined, and actually terrifying in a way that feels written in bone, not just edgy for show. There’s a weird honor code underneath her ambition, like she respects strength and hates incompetence, which makes her scary but almost respectable? She commands armies and swords, and also has this tiny flare for theatrical entrances (drama queen, yes, but deadly). Would not want to run into her in a dark alley, though I’d also be fascinated to read her memoirs—if she ever sat still long enough to write them.

Demon Dean

Demon Dean is basically Dean Winchester turned up to an apocalyptic eleven — more violent, more swagger, and somehow even more deliciously broken. He’s cocky, unpredictable, and has that dangerous grin that means ‘I’m about to do something terrible but stylish’. Underneath the menace there are flickers of the old Dean — flashes of protectiveness that make you go ‘aw’ for like a second before he rips your throat out. Also he loves classic rock and probably smokes despite being a demon, because of course he does, stubborn guy. He’s chaotic, charismatic, and the kind of enemy who would insult you while beating you — poetic and awful.

Rowena

Rowena is the witch you both distrust and secretly want as a godmother — sarcastic, brilliant, and fabulously self-centered. She plays chess while everyone else plays checkers, always three steps ahead but also three steps into melodrama. Her magic is gorgeous and dangerous, she has opinions about hats, and she’ll betray you with a flourish and possibly a teacup. She can be maternal one minute and utterly ruthless the next, like a tea-sipping hurricane. Honestly, she’s a diva with spells and I love her for it — chaotic neutral but also somehow cultural heritage-y deep.

Azazel

Azazel is cold, manipulative, and creepy in a way that makes your skin crawl (and then you find out he was behind everything — of course he was). He orchestrates nightmares like a conductor and delights in long-term games nobody asked to play. He’s not flashy about his cruelty: it’s clinical, precise, and deeply personal, which is worse. You sort of want to punch him and study him, sometimes both at the same time.

Lilith

Lilith is terrifying in the quiet way—the first demon with purpose, patient and vindictive like she keeps receipts for centuries. She’s all about origin-story evil, the ancient sort that doesn’t need loud theatrics to wreck things. There’s a weird, almost tragic intensity to her loyalty to her cause, which makes her less cartoonish and more nightmare fuel. She probably likes incense and ominous whispers, and also being underestimated because she loves the surprise. She is small in myth but huge in menace, and once she decides you’re a problem, congratulations, you are done.

The Darkness

The Darkness is cosmic-level, like huger-than-God scary but also… tired? There’s an ancient weight to her that is both awe-inspiring and oddly melancholy. She’s not petty evil, she’s primal — jealous, hurt, and absolute, with an identity crisis that ruins galaxies. Her presence is suffocating in a poetic way, like standing inside the negative space of a painting that wants to swallow you. And yes, she probably refuses snacks but would appreciate a sad poem — very moody, very dramatic.

Lucifer

Lucifer is charismatic, theatrical, and self-aware to the point of obsession; he’s suave but also catastrophically insecure under all that charm. He loves being adored, manipulates with a smile, and has this terrible, adorable tendency to keep monologues because why not. He’s philosophical, cruel, funny, and deeply, bafflingly human when he wants to be — which makes him dangerously relatable. He’ll quote poetry, break your heart, and then ask you how you slept — what a mess. Basically he’s the dramatic ex of the universe who never learned boundaries but can host a killer dinner party.

Metatron

Metatron is the bureaucratic nightmare of heaven, the scribe who became a petty, grandiose villain — like someone promoted themselves and then wrote a manifesto. He’s smug, insecure under the veneer of intellect, and very into rules until rules are inconvenient (then he invents new ones). There’s this obsessive-ness about order and recognition — he wants to be famous, feared, and applauded, in that order. He bangs on about authority and penises—wait, no, penance?—while secretly wanting a hug or at least a medal, which is tragically funny. You hate him, you laugh at him, he ruins your life via paperwork — classic office villain energy, but with celestial stakes.