You told me we were blood, that I should trust you. I told you we might be blood, but we weren't family. Your father was never my father – he was only some guy I met once a year. The only family I'd ever known was my Mom, and the angels promised me I'd get to meet her again. They warned me not to trust the two of you, warned me that you were so psychotically co-dependent on each other that you'd rather save each other than the world. Still, it was the angels who broke their promises, and for a while it seemed that that crazy family co-dependency included me as well, because you came to save my ass. Or, at least, you made a half-hearted attempt.

Michael didn't waste his time promising me things. He made it clear he wouldn't stop until I'd said yes. At that point, I didn't really care anymore. I just wanted it to be over. I still had this vain hope that you'd save me again, like you'd said you would. But the next time I saw you, you were out for my life. Or, that is, Lucifer was after Michael's life. Surprisingly, none of them died. You two proved that your "psychopathic co-dependency" was stronger than even the rage of arch-angels. This time, however, it didn't include me.

And then, we were all thrown in the pit – Lucifer, Michael, me, Sam. I'd thought being killed by ghouls and seeing my Mom eaten alive was the worst thing I'd ever experience. I'd been wrong. We were locked up with the Devil and his equally mind-fucked brother, and it didn't take long for them to take all their anger and disappointment out on us. Still, I had this vain hope this was only temporary. That such torture couldn't go on forever. That hope helped me to cope with the pain and despair. At least for the first couple of years.

Five years in, I could barely remember what happiness felt like. Ten years in, I couldn't recall my mother's face, or even her name. Twenty years, and I'd forgotten my own. Fifty years, all memories of my once normal life were gone, along with my hope of one day escaping this fate. One hundred years, and there wasn't nothing left of me but a shell. Two hundred years, all I wanted was to cause someone else the same torture I was experiencing.

When that creature came, I'd lost count on how long we'd been down there. But a small shadow of hope returned – hope that this was the end. That creature was darker, larger and more powerful than both the Devil and his brother, and ironically that brought me hope. Hope that he would finally finish me off: all I wanted was to never feel anything again. But I was mistaken. That creature took you, Sam, with him, and left me with the words: "Dean says hi".

I'd thought it couldn't get worse. Once again I'd been mistaken, because having two even more pissed off arch-angels torturing your ass night and day definitely was.

You're no one, Adam. You're not wanted. You are not loved. Your father abandoned you. Your mother wished you'd never been born. Sam gladly let you sacrifice your soul in his big brother's place. Dean only came to save his real little brother, not you. Your parents never wanted you, and your brothers left you here for dead. Or for worse. They knew this would happened. And they allowed this fate for you. There was never a place for you in their family.

With the last shadow of hope gone, the old me broke and disappeared. But in his place, the new Adam was born.

Such a fitting name. Adam. The first of my kind. Shaped and created by two arch-angels. They taught me the true meaning of family. It only brings you torture and pain. It destroys you.

Those are the things that keep me going now.

Family.

Blood.

Brothers. I'm getting out of here, that's a promise. And when I do, you'll see exactly how much I treasure those bonds.