Author's Note: So sometimes I write horrible things that appall even me. And sometimes I like them. This...is one of those things.

Michael kept him safe.

Adam thought he would have appreciated it more if he hadn't been in literal Hell in the first place because of Michael, but then he thought of the first couple seconds with screams filling his ears and unbearable pressure squeezing in from all sides before the arch-angel had wrapped him in a cocoon that was warm and safe and isolated.

"I'm not angry with you, Adam," Michael assured him, in a melodious voice that sounded eerily like Adam's mother. "I don't have any reason to be angry with you. I'm sorry you're here, truly sorry."

Lucifer didn't seem interested in bothering Adam. He had other things to do.

Sam, mainly.

Sometimes, when Michael was…distracted, the white cushion between Adam and everything would slip, and he could hear Sam. Screaming, much closer than the rest, and choking, and other…things. Adam listened with his lips pressed together until Michael remembered that he was there and there was silence again.

"I'm sorry," Michael said softly. There was blood on the image the angel let him see, and Adam wondered if it was the Devil's or Sam's. "You shouldn't have to listen to…that." Abomination, Adam heard under the words. Demonspawn. Michael had thought them inside his head and he wasn't sure they weren't his own thoughts.

"No, it's okay," Adam said distantly, to this blood-stained apparition of an angel, his only shelter, his only hope. "I don't care. I'm pissed as...I'm really pissed at him, actually. For doing this to me. It's because of him that I'm here-"

"That we're here," Michael agreed, and reached out, touched his forehead and pushed his hair back. It made Adam's skin crawl, remembering that his mom used to do just the same thing and wondering if Michael knew that and was imitating the gesture consciously. "We're not supposed to be here, Adam, you and me. But I'll keep you safe."

A year ago he'd had no idea there was such a thing as angels, or hell. Now he'd died and come back and been hauled into a cage in hell for two very angry archangels. Life was funny sometimes. Or death was, though Adam didn't feel very dead.

He curled up in his cotton cocoon and pretended to sleep. He knew what he was laying on, what was all around him, but as long as he couldn't see or feel or smell or hear it – that didn't really matter.

Adam didn't think he slept, really, but he opened his eyes and found Michael rubbing his shoulders. "You're angry with Sam, aren't you?" he said, voice still that low and musical blend of mom and otherworldly power.

Adam sat up a little, and thought about it. "Yeah," he said, "Yeah, I am."

Michael nodded, and said, "I'm going to keep you safe, Adam, but you must be bored. You're bored, right?" His voice was calm and reasonable. Adam thought about that, too, and nodded. He had no idea how long it had been. Could have been hours, or years – the cocoon took that away, too, all sense of time.

"I guess," Adam said. "Why?"

Michael smiled, and there was something about it Adam didn't like, but he couldn't pin it down, and Michael was his only friend in this place. "Come with me," the archangel said, and stood.

The white cloud melted away, and Adam flinched, seeing everything all over again – walls of flesh bleeding in rivulets, a smell like rotting flesh and overripe fruit, and the feel of the ground wet and squishy under his feet. Michael laid a hand on his shoulder, and oddly enough, he still looked human. Mostly.

His face was strangely distorted, like it was trying to melt. "Shhh," said Michael, and his voice, at least, didn't change. He directed Adam forward, halted him. Someone else was standing casually at ease. Adam didn't recognize him, but Michael and he looked at each other and smiled in a way that made Adam's spine want to crawl out of his body.

"Hello, brother," said the stranger, and there was a sneer in his voice that he didn't seem aware of. Lucifer? Adam thought, incredulous, and Michael bowed his head in acknowledgment.

"Hello, brother."

They didn't seem angry. Adam thought he remembered that they had been fighting. Shaking even his cocoon with their rages.

He let his eyes slip from the Devil's face and blinked, slowly. He recognized Sam, sort of. His arms were burned crisps up to the elbow, and his head was twisted most of the way around. Dead, Adam thought numbly. Now they're going to start on me.

Michael squeezed his shoulder, though, apparently sensing his fear. "Don't worry," he said, soothingly, and Adam stopped worrying. They were all staring at Sam's body, so Adam stared with them.

Something crackled, and Adam stared as flesh started to regenerate, sloughing burnt skin and moving down his arm like a creeping disease. Something popped and then cracked and Adam could see Sam's neck realign. It only took a minute or so and Sam sucked in a rattling breath and opened his eyes.

His eyes looked wild as he choked in his first few breaths, and Lucifer and Michael moved in. Lucifer flicked his hand and a knife appeared in his fist, and Michael's face adopted a beatific expression of pure radiance as his hand wrapped around Sam's wrist and casually broke both bones.

Sam didn't even seem to feel it, his eyes landing on Adam. Adam swallowed, once.

"No," Sam said, "No, no, no, please, no, get him away, get him away-"

"We're not hurting him," Michael said, massaging Sam's broken wrist. Adam could hear the bones grind together and Sam's body spasmed. "He asked. Maybe he'll even join us."

Lucifer turned the knife in one swift motion and stabbed it deep into Sam's side, dragged it up. His half brother screamed, jerking helplessly with automatic muscle spasms that Adam knew were impossible to control. Lucifer drew the knife out and licked the blade clean with one stroke of a tongue that seemed too long. Michael moved his hand up and Adam heard a crack again.

He'd thought he'd heard Sam scream before, but never like this.

And he just stood there, staring. Abomination. Michael's words echoed in his head. We're not supposed to be here. He shifted uncomfortably. Lucifer was drawing lines of blood on Sam's back and Michael stood up, leaned forward, whispered something. The Devil laughed.

They moved like one being, Adam thought, and he wondered how he hadn't seen how similar they looked, the way they watched each other. Enemies? He thought. Like hell.

Pun not intended.

Sam was panting, bleeding, sprawled face down. He lifted his head and looked at Adam with what looked like an effort. "Adam," he said, then spat blood. Tried again. "Adam. Don't-"

Michael struck him, casually, and Adam realized that the archangel was naked, and so was Lucifer, all of them. "Don't talk," he said. "Just open your mouth." Lucifer was behind Sam, spreading his legs apart and climbing onto the altar, his hands gripping Sam's hips and dragging them upwards. Adam could hear Sam trying to make noises, whimpering, maybe.

"Brother," said Michael, and he sounded like he was breathing hard. Adam saw Lucifer's smile and shivered. "Brother," he agreed.

"Adam," Adam heard Sam say, "don't listen-"

Both archangels moved, spearing Sam between them, and Adam could hear the muffled noises he was making and his head seemed to clear, like a fog lifting.

He moved, blinked. Sam's face, what he could see of it, was wrinkled up, his eyes closed, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, sounding like he was choking. His body rocked between the devil on his ass and Michael fucking his face, and Adam wondered how long…

"Such a little whore," said the Devil, suddenly. His hand had reached up and was grabbing the back of Sam's hair. His eyes lifted to Michael. "Useless little whore."

Michael groaned and Adam's skin seemed to tighten. "Whose bitch are you," he said, purred, his voice no longer melodious but harsh, sounding very close to Lucifer's. "My bitch. My little bitch."

Adam thought they were talking to Sam, but maybe they were talking to each other, because then they both reached out, leaning over Sam and wrapping their arms around each other and kissing each other fiercely and nothing like brothers.

They pulled apart and Michael drew back, still erect. Sam's head dropped down limply, his eyes closed and mouth leaking drool. Lucifer paused in his pounding motion. "Adam," Michael said, his voice husky and full of lust. "Adam. Come here."

He balked, but Michael drew him forward. "Don't be scared," he said. "This is just." His voice vibrated with surety. "This is right. The wicked need to be punished." The words rang true in Adam's ears and Adam's heart, and his will wavered.

He looked down at Sam, whose eyes were open. The left one was bloodshot, and there was blood dribbling over his lips. He looked like he was dying, but Adam's medical knowledge told him that was unlikely, not for a long time, anyway. Sam's mouth moved. He made a faint noise, and Adam shifted closer.

"Please," he heard, and the tone was broken and pleading, someone at the very end of their rope or past it – probably past it. "Please."

Adam didn't know what he meant, but it made his stomach turn over, and he shook his head. "No," he said. "No, I don't want-"

Michael's face went flat and inscrutable. "Adam," he said, sternly. "If you refuse – perhaps I don't need to protect you after all."

Adam thought of this, around him, every day, for eternity. Thought of the cotton cocoon and Michael pushing back his hair and Michael and Lucifer's mouths meeting over Sam's body and greedily devouring each other.

"No," he said again. "I won't."

Michael's eyes were hard, for a moment, then they lost interest, and he shrugged.

"Suit yourself," he said, and turned back toward Sam.

"Wait," Adam said, his stomach lurching sideways. "I thought you'd-"

"Turn on you?" Michael sounded genuinely puzzled. "No. Why would I?"

Lucifer laughed. "I told you," he said, smugly, still buried inside Sam, rocking slightly. Adam could see Sam's hand clench and unclench, blood dripping from the open wound in his side, his broken arm dangling limply. "I told you he wouldn't. Come, brother…let's finish this."

Adam stepped back, feeling wide eyed and sick. Nowhere to turn, nothing to shut out the sounds of Sam trying uselessly to struggle, nothing to shut out the crawling feeling all over his skin and the feeling like his ears were about to burst. Adam looked away from his half-brother and the two archangels. He heard Sam moan.

"No," he said, then, "Stop, please, god, please stop!"

Then a choking sound, and Adam bent over and was sick, even if there was nothing to sick up.

In the end, the angels finished fucking Sam, then fucked each other, hard and violently, clawing at each other with violence, and by the end, Adam thought, Michael looked more like Lucifer than before – or maybe Lucifer looked more like Michael. Then they were gone, to some other corner of the cage. Adam stared at Sam's body, limp and used up, and tentatively edged over.

He couldn't remember how he was supposed to feel. Maybe it had been longer than he knew.

Sam turned his head and blinked blearily at Adam. He licked his lips with a too-red tongue. "Thank you," he said hoarsely, and then went limp again.

"I don't get it," Adam said, "I thought Michael…"

"Was what? Good?" Sam turned his head and smirked tiredly at Adam. "Yeah…I'm sorry. I really am."

"It's okay," said Adam, which it wasn't, but honestly, he didn't feel, whole and intact as he was, like he could really be angry or hateful just now. He reached out, and pressed a palm against Sam's side, but Sam just jerked and made a low whining noise through his nose.

"Don't," he said, "It'll just…bleed out eventually anyway. Leave it."

They stayed there for a few moments in silence. Sam was panting, and Adam was trying to think. "Lucifer and Michael," he said. "They were…they're starting to look like each other."

"Yeah," said Sam, and took a deep breath. "You know…I think everyone forgets the most important thing about Michael and Lucifer."

Adam blinked slowly. "What's that?"

"That they're brothers," Sam said, and started laughing like he was going to die laughing.