ADAM
Adam doesn't remember the fall through the rift, doesn't remember much of anything except feeling his own older brother grab him by the arms and yank him into Hell. And then he wakes up in the Cage, aptly named and surrounded by a circle of towering red-white flames. It's hot and cramped, yes, but altogether not torturous. At least, not at first, and not for him.
The square gaps in the bottom of the cage are just big enough for Adam's feet to slip through and get caught if he's not careful, so he spends many of his first hundred or so years huddled carefully in the corner with his knees drawn up and his head in his arms. With his shoulders pressed against his ears, he can almost ignore his roommates.
Lucifer and Michael are no longer inside of Adam and Sam, and Adam has yet to discern if this is a good thing or not. On the one hand, he has control of his body back. On the other, Michael and Lucifer entertain themselves by torturing Sam. Adam thought that he could handle whatever happened down there.
He was wrong.
The first time a peeled-off strip of Sam's skin lands within his line of sight, Adam nearly throws up. He squeezes his eyes shut and clamps his hands over his ears, rocks back and forth on his ass and sings every song he knows in an attempt to drown out the sounds. He doesn't want to hear the wet, gurgling squelch that comes every time one of Sam's limbs is pulled off, or the deceptively subtle tearing sound as skin is pulled from muscle, or the muffled snap that indicates one or more bones has been broken. Louder than any of these noises are Michael and Lucifer's voices, hard and angry and speaking in a language that Adam's never heard, isn't sure even comes from Earth.
But the worst of it all is the screaming, the raw, tortured, hopeless sounds that tear themselves painfully from Sam's throat, strangled like he's trying to hold them back but just can't because the pain is too intense, too all-consuming.
Adam's never liked either of his older half-brothers, but even Sam doesn't deserve this. Still, all the pity in the world can't stop the traitorous little thought that crosses his mind every now and then. I'm glad it's him and not me. Adam doesn't worry about how fucked up that makes him; getting trapped in Hell with Satan, an angel, and their living chew toy really puts things into perspective, and when faced with that reality, fucked up thoughts are the least of his worries.
So Adam closes his eyes and sings his songs to drown out the noise and tries not to go insane. He barely notices when something comes and takes Sam's body away, and the only reason he does notice is because it leaves behind something that wasn't there before. It's a small ball of light, flickering in a way that looks distinctly wary, and the terrifying grins that split the angels' faces when they see it make Adam shiver even in the oppressive heat.
Most of the sounds stop after that, including the screaming, but Adam can still hear it sometimes, when he lets his guard down and remembers his brother, and when those times come he starts right back up with the singing. He thinks it adds a nice sense of ambience, the singing and the torture and the two twisted grins that split two different faces.
But eventually, even the ball of light leaves, and suddenly Adam is faced with the complete and undivided attention of the two most terrifying things he's ever met. They all study each other, Lucifer with contempt and Michael with disinterest and Adam with fear, until the stalemate is broken when Lucifer scoffs and turns away. He goes to sit in a corner, sprawling one leg out and resting his arm on the bent knee of the other. Michael simply stands at the side of the Cage and looks out, at the fire, at the suffocating black void that's past the flames. Adam cries from relief and doesn't even have the will to wipe his own tears.
Adam's head returns to his knees, but this time he doesn't cover his ears. There aren't any sounds to block out now, no screaming or squelching or tearing or snapping, no speaking or singing or even the crackle that usually accompanies flames. If it weren't for the soft sighs of his own breathing, Adam would've thought he'd gone deaf.
To stave off boredom, he starts counting. He counts the bars of the cage, the number of time Lucifer's fist clenches angrily, his own breaths, and then he counts the seconds in an attempt to keep track of the time. It's mindless work but instead of letting his mind wander, he fixates on the numbers that run through his mind, focuses on nothing but digits and syllables and the unachievable goal of counting to infinity.
He probably would have gone on counting forever had Lucifer and Michael not gotten into another fight, somewhere around five hundred million seconds. Adam snaps out of his stupor at the sounds of the first angry shout, still in that strange language he's beginning to grasp. Adam's not good enough at mental math to figure out how many years he's been here, but he judges it's been a pretty fucking long time.
As the angels' fight gets physical, Adam uncurls from his huddled position with much stiffness and wincing. He carefully stands up, balancing on two of the bars and holding onto the sides of the cage as blood rushes back to his extremities. There's a thud and an angry yelp from the other side of the Cage and Adam glances warily at the angels as he shakes pins and needles out of his legs. So far, Michael and Lucifer have been content to ignore him, but that doesn't mean they don't still terrify the shit out of him.
His foot slips when he tries to take a step and he gasps as he jerks and falls. The sound draws the attention of the angels and they all freeze, Adam with his hands white-knuckled around the bars of the Cage and the angels with angry snarls on their bloody faces. Adam doesn't even breathe as they appraise him, his heart beating double time and his breath coming in fast pants. With Sam out of the Cage, it was only a matter of time until they turned their wrath on him, and he doesn't think—no, he knows he's not strong enough to withstand torture.
As if they can sense his thoughts, the angels both sneer and turn away from him. Surprisingly, they turn away from each other, too, and go back to their spots in the corner and by the side of the Cage. Adam shuts his eyes and wills his breathing to even out, his heart to slow, and his hands to release their death grip on the bars. He doesn't think he's able to die down here, but his body apparently never got the memo; it's shaking worse than it did when he almost drowned when he was a kid.
He doesn't know how long he stands there (he refuses to start counting again) before he stops shaking and calms down. He releases a breath as quietly as he can and refuses to look at either Michael or Lucifer as he carefully walks across the Cage, one hand on the side to help him balance as he steps from bar to bar. They're close enough together that he could balance on two at a time, one under his toes and the other under his heel, but he's not yet comfortable enough to put all his faith in his wonky balance.
He can practically feel two stares burning holes into his sides as he walks across the Cage, turns, and makes his way back to the other side. It's tempting to look up and see what the expressions on their faces look like, but Adam resists. He doesn't know what'll set them off but he doesn't want to risk doing anything they could take as aggression. They're already tense enough as it is.
Adam walks back and forth, back and forth, hundreds if not thousands of times, until he's so good at navigating the bars of the Cage that it's as effortless as striding down a sidewalk. In all that time, neither Michael nor Lucifer moved at all except to watch Adam. The one time he made eye contact with Lucifer he got nothing but a fierce snarl in return, so he's kept his head bowed and his eyes on the bottom of the Cage.
Now, though, he raises his head and slowly stretches the kinks out of his neck, rolls his shoulders, clasps his hands behind his back and pulls to loosen up his spine. The amount of popping noises that emerge from him is alarming, and he wonders if he'll become frozen if he stays in one position too long. The thought makes him think of Michael and Lucifer, and his eyes flick to them before he can remember what a bad idea that is. They're not looking at him, for once, so Adam takes this rare opportunity to study them.
Michael hasn't moved so much as an inch, still standing in the corner with his arms crossed and his back military straight. He's at a slight angle so he can see both Adam and Lucifer if he turns his head, but facing forward for him means facing the void out beyond their prison. Lucifer, on the other hand, has his eyes closed and is stretched out in his own corner like he's perfectly comfortable, but Adam can see the strain in every line of his body. In fact, both of them are practically statues, holding themselves so still that they don't even look alive, especially since they're not breathing.
Adam looks away before they can catch him staring, but he doesn't go back to pacing. Instead, he leans back against the bars of the Cage and mimics both Michael and Lucifer, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. This time his mind actually does wander, jumping from subject to subject randomly. He thinks of his mother and father and the two men who are technically his stepbrothers, and he thinks of the bite of cold wind in the winter, his favourite flavour of ice cream, the color of the leaves his neighbors pay him to rake up.
He thinks of the fury that twisted Michael's face and the cold-eyed stare on Lucifer's as they tortured Sam, the irritation and dead eyes as they looked at Adam, the carefully neutral looks on their faces as they sit in total stillness. But most of all, Adam thinks of the way that it's been at least a few years since he was locked down here in Hell, and no one has come for him. No one will ever come for him because his parents are both dead and the stepbrothers he never really trusted clearly don't care about him.
Suddenly furious, Adam turns to Michael and Lucifer and barks, "Hey, assholes. How long have we been down here?"
Both angels start and turn to him with incredulous stares, and Adam has to hold back laughter he's sure would come out hysterical. He doesn't know if they're surprised because of how he addressed them or because he addressed them at all, but he's too pissed to care.
"Um." Lucifer's eyes flick to Michael, who merely shakes his head in bewilderment. "Almost two hundred years."
And as Adam chokes and starts hyperventilating, Michael adds, "But it's only been about a year and a half on Earth."
"Thank you, that makes me feel so much better," Adam says sarcastically, sinking down into a crouch and sticking his head between his knees. Two hundred years he's been down here, two hundred years without food or water or sunshine, without speaking or sleeping or interacting with another person.
A few minutes later (though it could be a few years for all he knows about Hell time) he looks up and is surprised to find both angels staring at him with indecipherable looks on their faces. He remembers that just because they haven't tortured him for two hundred years doesn't mean they won't start, not when they have the rest of eternity together, so he resists the urge to sneer at them, instead going back to pacing. After a while, he starts singing again, if only to fill the silence and to keep himself from going another two hundred years without talking.
He's only gone through twenty songs when Lucifer speaks again. Adam quiets automatically until he realizes that it's to Michael in whatever weird language they speak, and then he starts singing again, trying and failing to not listen as intently as he is. He may not understand the language but he sure as hell can recognize the tones they're using. Lucifer's voice is dripping with disdain and sarcasm and burning fury. Michael's voice is almost inflectionless, but Adam can hear the undercurrent of cold anger as he replies to his brother, syllables short and sharp and cutting.
The speaking turns into shouting after a while, but Adam doesn't sing louder. He stops pacing and closes his eyes and listens as he sings, taking random phrases from the angels' fight and shoving them into his songs just for the hell of it.
"I've been fucking around while you were toh-lah-toh-rahjzh," Adam sings. He doesn't need to open his eyes to know that Michael and Lucifer have stopped fighting and are staring at him. "I've been out of my mind and I've been dreaming things and scheming things."
"What," Lucifer says flatly. Adam cracks open an eye and looks at him, and tries not to snort at his unimpressed expression.
"Do not dare attempt to speak our language," Michael warns angrily. "You defile it."
"Is my pronunciation bad?" Adam asks.
"Atrocious," Lucifer says.
"Oh. Then teach me how to say it properly."
"...What."
"Enochian is the language of the divine," Michael says. He's not sneering but it looks and sounds like he wants to. "Humans aren't worthy of hearing it, let alone speaking it."
"Ouch," Adam says dryly. "That's harsh, don't you think?"
"Shut up!" Lucifer hisses. "You may not be able to die down here but that doesn't mean you can't still bleed."
A chill snakes its way down his spine at the threat and Adam shivers. Michael and Lucifer may have been acting like overgrown children for the past few—decades?—but they're still more than capable of going back to the torture, even if Sam's gone. That thought sparks another, and Adam doesn't care enough to rein in his curiosity.
"Do you blame me for what happened?" he asks. "For us getting locked in the Cage?"
Neither angel so much as looks at him, but Adam is a patient person. He stares them down and doesn't say a word until eventually Lucifer caves.
"No," he says. His eyes flick to Michael. "At least, I don't. You're a pawn, a backup vessel. You're not important enough to be blamed for this."
Of course Satan would be able to guess your innermost insecurities. The comment stings and Lucifer knows it, judging by the satisfied little smirk on his face, but Adam merely shrugs and refuses to show how much it bothers him.
"What about you, Michael?" he says. The angel doesn't answer. "Mikey? Michelangelo? Magic Mike?"
"I will rip out your eyes and shove them down your throat," Michael says. Adam thinks he remembers something similar happening to Sam and he knows it's no idle threat, but the longer they let him get away with being annoying, the more confident he becomes that they won't do anything to him.
"Answer the question and I'll stop," Adam says. Michael groans in frustration, a strangely human reaction that Adam wasn't expecting.
"Yes, I blame you!" Michael snaps. "You and every single accursed Winchester, bastard child or not."
Adam is silent for a pause. "Are all angels assholes, or did I get stuck with Heaven's douchiest? And I'm not a Winchester." He can't keep the distaste out of his tone. "I'm a Milligan."
"You're the spawn of John Winchester," Michael says. "That's reason enough."
"Reason enough for what?" Adam asks snarkily. He gasps when Lucifer moves suddenly, too fast for him to do anything other than widen his eyes. The air escapes his lungs in an explosive exhale as he's slammed against the wall of the Cage, pinned by his throat. He panics and struggles instinctively but Lucifer doesn't move an inch. His face is set in a furious snarl and for the first time in a long time, Adam is truly afraid.
"Reason enough to hate you," Lucifer says. "Now shut up."
He gives one more squeeze for good measure, then lets Adam drop unceremoniously to the floor. The fall sends the air out of his lungs with a sharp whoosh! and agony flaring up and across Adam's already bruised back, and for a moment he can't do anything except lie there with his mouth open in a silent scream and his hands clutching at his shirt. A tiny, wretched cough escapes his ruined throat and it's like a floodgate has been opened, hacking coughs wracking his frame as he tries to suck in as much air as possible. His throat feels like it's on fire and he doesn't need a mirror to know that bruises are blossoming across his neck.
"Pathetic," Lucifer scoffs, returning to his corner. He bares his teeth as Michael, who stares stonily back for only a moment before turning his attention to Adam. Even through Adam's tear-blurred vision, Michael is clearly aggravated.
"Was that necessary?" he asks, sounding completely disinterested despite the intensity with which he watches Adam struggle up onto his hands and knees.
"Don't tell me you're feeling sorry for him," Lucifer says, disgusted. "He's just a Winchester."
Michael turns to look at him. "Thay may be, but that doesn't mean he deserves this," he mumbles.
"You didn't seem all that upset about torturing dear old Sammy. What's so different about this one?"
Adam is curious about that, too. Some would say that what Lucifer did to him was torturous enough, but Adam has seen firsthand just how cruel and creative he can be. Pinning Adam by his throat like a bug on a corkboard was Lucifer pulling his punches way back, but what he can't figure out is why.
"Like you said before, this one is just a pawn," Michael says softly. "He is pathetic and a Winchester, yes, but he was by no means the mastermind behind our fall into the Cage."
"You literally just said that you blamed him," Lucifer says dryly. "What's changed in the last two minutes?"
"Nothing's changed. I lied about blaming him because he was being annoying."
Lucifer gives a fake, dramatic gasp of surprise. "You lied? You? I'm shocked, Michael. That's a sin, and that's my schtick."
Michael glares. "You're a disgrace to Heaven and the Father and we are as similar as a half-rotted corpse is to the evening star. Do not compare us."
Adam tunes them out then, more interested in trying to breathe properly than in listening to their argument. The burn in his throat has lessened somewhat, though it still hurts to breathe, and his entire back feels like someone took a sledgehammer to it. He feels like shit, frankly.
"Am I the corpse or the star?" Lucifer asks. Michael punches him in the face, and the last thing Adam sees before he passes out is the Devil's bloodstained teeth grinning out at him from below ice cold eyes.
When Adam wakes up, nothing hurts. He distinctly remembers having his windpipe almost shattered, though, so he can't figure out why he's not at least sore. And then he thinks, Right, I'm in Hell. Funny how he doesn't feel anything except for mild irritation at that development.
He can't seem to find the will to open his eyes. After two hundred years without sleep, it's heaven to linger in that murky place between sleep and consciousness. The only downside is that it takes him a while to realize he's not lying on the bars of the Cage like he should be, but on something that's warm, soft but firm, and shaking slightly. Something like another person. But that's ridiculous, right? Because the only other people down here with him are….
Adam goes from lying prone to scrambling back in two seconds flat, which he thinks might be the fastest he's ever woken up. His eyes are wide as he takes in the sight of Michael lying flat on his back, his head propped up on his arms and an irritated look on his face. Lucifer, thankfully sitting in his corner, snickers.
"What the fuck," Adam says. His voice is still a little scratchy, and talking tickles and makes him want to cough.
"Michael lost a bet," Lucifer says.
"So you put me on top of him?" Adam asks disbelievingly. He pauses. "What was the bet about?"
"Whether or not you'd wake up as your throat knit itself back together," Michael says. "I bet that you would."
"Huh," Adam says. "How long was I asleep?"
"Only a few hours," Lucifer says. He grins sleazily. "I wanted to wake you up so you could enjoy the incredibly painful healing process, but you look so cute when you sleep. Did you know that you respond if someone talks to you?"
Adam's mouth twists. "That's creepy and disgusting," he says, resolving to never fall asleep in front of Lucifer again. He clears his throat and then winces when that causes pain to flare up. It feels like the really bad sore throat he always gets when he catches a cold, except without the migraines and stuffy nose. At least he's not cold, what with the fire raging all around him. He frowns, suddenly remembering something.
"Hey, Michael," he says. The angel turns to look at him lazily, still lying on the floor. "Are you cold?"
Michael tenses visibly. To Adam's surprise, Lucifer does, too.
"We're surrounded by fire," Michael says.
"That's not an answer," Adam says. "I felt you shivering, dude."
Lucifer hisses in wordless displeasure. If he had hackles, Adam's pretty sure they'd be raised.
"It's no concern of yours," Michael says, which is the most polite "Butt out" that Adam's ever heard.
"Michael, it's not a big deal," he says, rolling his eyes. "I'm just curious. What am I going to do if you tell me?" He doesn't mention that Michael's as good as confessed by avoiding the question.
"Yes, I'm cold," Michael finally admits. "And so is Lucifer, in case you were wondering."
"Traitor," Lucifer mutters. Michael bristles and Adam steps in before their entire history gets dragged out into the open, which would inevitably result in another fist fight.
"Why are you so cold?" he asks. "Like you said, there's fire everywhere. I'm actually kind of hot."
Lucifer sneers. "Figures you would be. Filthy atheist."
Adam blinks. "What," he says.
"For those used to being constantly bathed in the warmth of God's love, Hell is a freezing wasteland," Michael explains. "It's the farthest you can be from Him and His light."
"So anyone who doesn't believe in Him doesn't feel the cold," Lucifer finishes. He sounds almost bored, but his eyes are hard as they bore into Adam's.
"Huh," Adam says, because he doesn't know how else to reply. And now that it's been pointed out to him, it's really easy to see the tiny tremors that run through Lucifer's body even with as still as he's holding himself. Michael, it seems, has given up the pretense and is openly shivering. He looks kind of pathetic, honestly. "Were you warm when I was on top of you? Because I don't remember you shivering that much."
Michael presses his lips together, but relents fairly quickly. "Humans run warm," he says, which is about as straight of an answer as Adam was expecting. Barely holding back a smirk, he opens his arms wide in the universal 'Hug me' gesture. Michael glares half-heartedly at him.
"I think not," he says. Lucifer doesn't even laugh like he normally would. It seems exposing his weaknesses puts him in a bad mood. Adam doesn't pay him any attention, instead taking a few steps closer to Michael, who shoots to his feet and takes a few steps back. His lip curls. "Stay back."
Adam grins. "Aw, come on. You said it yourself, I'm all nice and warm."
"I will hurt you," Michael warns, the threat anything but empty. Adam ignores it in favor of darting forward, intending to catch Michael in a sneak attack and at least get in one squeeze before he's pushed off. Michael sees it coming and sidesteps easily, but he's unprepared for the way Adam's hand darts out and grabs onto his wrist. Adam's foot gets caught in one of those damn holes in the Cage floor, sending him sprawling to the floor. They both go down in a tangle of limbs. Adam twists in midair so that he lands painfully on his back with a yelp, while Michael emits a surprised huff when he ends up on top of Adam.
Adam doesn't loosen his grip, though, and Michael is stunned enough that Adam can wrap his arms around him securely before he starts to struggle. Adam knows the angels are still unnaturally strong, even down here in Hell, but it's almost too easy for him to keep Michael trapped against his chest despite struggles that aren't really all that sincere. Adam hides a smile in Michael's hair and carefully doesn't look at Lucifer.
After a few moments, Michael "gives up" with a petulant huff, and Adam deems it safe to wiggle until he's upright against the Cage wall with Michael sitting in between his legs, back to chest. His arms remain wrapped around the angel's shoulders. Michael sighs quietly and doesn't move when Adam leans back against the wall, drawing them both into a slightly reclined position. He's still tense, but the shivers have already lessened. Adam was only hoping to fluster Michael, not actually help him warm up, but he can't deny that doing the right thing makes him feel pleased. Stupid human empathy.
"You both look ridiculous," Lucifer says, still sitting in the corner directly across from Adam and Michael. Adam can't tell which of them Lucifer's glaring at.
"I feel ridiculous," Michael says, but he stays where he is.
"Well, I don't," Adam says cheerfully. "A lot of humans actually like cuddling, you know."
"Ridiculous," Lucifer repeats. Adam scoffs softly but doesn't say anything else, too comfortable to risk angering Lucifer enough for him to start a fight. It's surprisingly nice to sit here with Michael's weight resting against him—heavy, but not uncomfortably so. He's never really been this physically close with someone before, unless you count that time in eighth grade when his first girlfriend leaned her head on his shoulder while they were sitting in the bleachers at a basketball game.
So many decades without any type of physical contact is enough to make any innocent touch tingle, but the position he and Michael are in right now is already intimate. It doesn't help that the sensations are so much stronger after so long without; he's acutely aware of Michael's shoulders under his arms even through two layers of thick jacket, his back against Adam's chest and his head carefully tipped back to rest on Adam's shoulder. His hair tickles the side of Adam's neck and his heart beats under Adam's hand even though he's not breathing, and all of a sudden it's too much, too overwhelming.
Michael stiffens when Adam buries his face into his neck, his arms tightening around the angel and his breath leaving him in a shuddery huff. He feels Michael's neck shift when he turns his head and hears the confused noise he makes, and assumes that he's looking at Lucifer.
"Humans need physical contact," Lucifer drawls. Adam can practically hear him rolling his eyes. "There's a bunch of negative effects of not getting enough."
"Will he die if he doesn't receive as much as he should be getting?" Michael asks. Adam remembers that angels don't form attachments as easily as humans do and tries not to feel offended by the casual tone in Michael's voice.
"He's already in Hell," Lucifer says. "Who cares if he dies? Besides, the other Winchester never died, and we did worse to him than just depriving him of touch. I think your pet's safe."
"'M not anyone's pet," Adam says. He tries to sound fierce but it comes out muffled since he's still pressing his face to Michael's neck. "And I'm still not a Winchester. Never was, never will be."
"Hmm," Lucifer says, sounding skeptical. Adam lifts his head and frowns angrily, blinking spots out of his vision. He glares as best he can, but Lucifer simply chuckles and sticks his tongue out at him.
"Child," Adam accuses.
"Compared to Michael, I sure as hell am." Adam blinks and doesn't say anything. How is he supposed to respond to that?
"Both of you, stop," Michael says sternly. "In case either of you forgot, we're trapped in Hell. Now's not really the time to start bickering."
"We literally have the rest of eternity together. When will be the time to start bickering?" Adam asks wryly.
"We're not bickering," Lucifer adds. "And even if we were, who are you to judge? You're the one cuddling up with a human."
"At least I'm not impersonating a statue to prevent myself from shivering," Michael replies. "I'm warm, Lucifer."
"Now who's bickering?" Adam says, silently marvelling at the surreal situation he's found himself in. If he didn't know any better, he'd say the mood in the Cage right now is… companionable. "How about we all shut up and just, I don't know, sit here."
"Yes, good idea," Michael says. It's the first positive thing he's said to Adam in over two hundred years, and it fills him with that pleased, fuzzy feeling he associates with making his mother proud, which. No. Weird.
"And we could be completely silent," Lucifer says.
"Or I could sing?" Adam suggests. Lucifer smiles blandly.
"Or we could be completely silent," he says. Adam pouts and leans his head back against the Cage. It's uncomfortable as shit but at least he can close his eyes and go back to sleep.
He wakes up with a huge crick in his neck and a truly astounding amount of crust holding his eyes shut. He scrubs at his face with one hand and yawns into the other, and is completely unsurprised to find himself cuddling an archangel in the deepest pit of Hell when he gets his eyes open.
He's used to being in the Cage, and isn't that just the saddest thing he's ever heard in his life?
"Before you ask, you were asleep for an hour," Michael says, still sitting in between Adam's legs. He's shifted into a cross-legged position, which, unfortunately, has brought his tailbone right up against Adam's dick. He doesn't have morning wood, thank fuck, and he quickly sits up before his dick decides to get interested in the entirely non-sexual situation. Adam loves boobs, don't get him wrong, but sometimes all it takes is pretty eyes and a nice body, both of which Michael is in possession of.
Lucifer glares at him from his side of the Cage as if he can hear Adam's thoughts, which might just be the case.
Flip me off if you can hear me, Adam thinks, and sags in relief when Lucifer doesn't so much as twitch. Except for the slight trembling from holding in his shivers, he's completely still.
"You're one stubborn bastard, you know that?" Adam says, and Lucifer blinks in shock.
"Adam," Michael says in warning, but Adam ignores him and the outraged squawk he makes when Adam stands up, dislodging him from his seat. He reaches down to run a hand through Michael's hair as he walks by and grins at the disgruntled grumble it gets him.
Lucifer straight up hisses when Adam approaches, shooting to his feet and pulling himself up to his full height like a cornered cat. Adam remembers what happened the last time he pissed Lucifer off and he just barely stops himself from reaching up to touch his neck.
"Lucifer," he says, trying his best to sound authoritative. Judging from Lucifer's sneer, he's not succeeding. "I can help, dude."
"I don't want your help," Lucifer spits.
"So you admit that you do need help," Adam says triumphantly. Lucifer blinks.
"What."
"You said 'want', not 'need'," Adam points out.
"Fuck off," Lucifer says. He walks to the other side of the Cage and leans into the corner there, crossing his arms and glaring at nothing.
"Adam," Michael says sternly. "Do not antagonize him."
"Why?" Adam asks. "What's the worst he's gonna do, torture me? Besides, why do you care? I'm just a human, after all." His voice is undeniably bitter but Michael doesn't comment on it.
"Aw, is someone feeling a little inferior?" Lucifer coos mockingly. He grins, but his eyes remain hard. "Well, good."
"Ouch," Adam says, putting a hand to his heart. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a great big dick?"
Lucifer goes completely still and for a moment Adam tenses, thinking he's finally pushed Lucifer over the line. But then he sees the shocked, wide-eyed look on the angel's face. Lucifer looks… anguished. But that can't be right, can it? What would he have to be upset about?
Still, Adam feels a bit guilty for putting that expression there. He walks slowly towards Lucifer, who doesn't move at all except to swallow painfully. He looks like he's about to start crying, which alarms Adam more than the thought of torture did.
"Don't," Lucifer says, but he sways the slightest bit towards Adam.
"Shut up," Adam says with no heat. He reaches out and puts his hands on Lucifer's shoulders, then looks into his face to gauge his reaction. Lucifer does nothing but swallow again, looking more vulnerable than Adam's ever seen him. It gives him the courage to pull Lucifer's head down to his shoulder and wrap his arms around him in a tight hug, an apology and comfort all rolled up into one.
Lucifer practically melts into the embrace. His shivering grows more prominent, but as they stand there the shaking slows to a barely-there tremble. Adam's arms are starting to ache from how tight he has them wrapped around Lucifer's shoulders, but he doesn't dare release his hold just yet.
"Do you want to tell me why what I said upset you?" he asks quietly, but sound travels pretty well in the Cage and he's sure Michael hears.
Lucifer shakes his head the tiniest bit and clenches his fists into the back of Adam's jacket.
"It might make you feel better if you talk about it," Adam presses. He's not actually sure that advice works, but it's what everyone in these situations seem to say, so it's what he goes with. He's surprised when Lucifer actually does tell him. It's whispered into the place where his neck meets his shoulder, but Adam has no trouble making it out. Neither, apparently, does Michael. He's on his feet with his hands clenched into fists before Adam can even figure out who Gabriel is.
"What," Michael says, his voice cold and trembling with anger. Lucifer tenses in Adam's arms and Adam reflexively tightens his grip, but reluctantly lets him go when Lucifer straightens.
"I-" He falters, pain flickering plainly across his features for a second. Michael either doesn't see it or doesn't care; fury still crackles in his eyes. Lucifer straightens and looks Michael in the eye. "I killed Gabriel."
Adam doesn't even see them move. Michael has Lucifer pinned to the Cage wall before he can so much as blink. He doesn't know much about Christianity despite being raised one, but any idiot would recognize the name of an angel as important as Gabriel. An archangel, if Adam remembers correctly.
… oh. Shit.
"You absolute filth," Michael snarls. Lucifer flinches, his eyes wide, but he doesn't make a move to defend himself. It makes Adam a little more scared than it should. "Gabriel was a Pagan traitor but he was still our brother, and you killed him!"
"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Lucifer stammers.
"Sorry doesn't bring him back," Michael hisses. Adam can't stay out of this any longer.
"Neither does this," he says. "Michael, let him go."
Michael turns to Adam with a snarl, but the grief in his eyes makes the expression less intimidating than he was going for.
"Stay out of this, Winchester," he says, sneering. "You know nothing of brotherly loyalty or love."
That stings, because yes he fucking does. He knows just how far brothers will go for each other; the only problem is that he's only ever been on the side of that equation that ended up losing something. He barks a short, bitter laugh.
"Of course I do," he says. "I know that Sam and Dean would do anything for each other, even if that meant leaving me here to rot with you. I know they love each other more than they could ever love me."
That brings Michael up short. Even Lucifer looks at him with something akin to pity in his eyes.
"I know that Lucifer regrets killing Gabriel and that you regret not being there for him," he continues. He's grasping at straws at this point, but they must be the right ones because neither angel speaks up to correct him. "And most of all, I know that neither of those things are going to bring him back. Your brother is dead and there's nothing you can do about it, so for fuck's sake, Michael, let Lucifer go."
Surprisingly, Michael does. Lucifer lands on his feet but his legs buckle and he immediately falls onto his ass. He doesn't so much as wince. Michael backs off, still fuming but a little less blinded by rage than he was a moment ago. Adam thanks whoever the hell's still listening that he didn't overstep a boundary and get himself a one-way ticket to torture.
"Would he have wanted you to fight like this?" Adam asks, genuinely curious. He hasn't met many angels in his life but he can tell that there's something different about this Gabriel.
"No," Michael snaps. "He left Heaven in the first place because Lucifer had been banished to the Cage." Lucifer flinches again but doesn't lift his gaze from his hands, splayed in front of him on the bars that make up the floor. He's not bothering to hide his shivering anymore.
Pity fills Adam and he sighs as he makes his way over to Lucifer. He sits down heavily next to him and pulls at him until the angel gives up and rests his head on Adam's shoulder. Adam winds an arm around his waist to keep him still.
"He never chose one side or another," Lucifer says. "At least, not until he met the Winchesters. Then he chose humanity, of all things." He scoffs.
"He stood up to you," Adam guesses.
"I gave him the choice to join me, or to walk away. He walked to his own death, all for nothing."
"I don't know," Adam says thoughtfully. "It sounds like he knew more than you two did."
Michael frowns. "What do you mean?"
"Well, the Apocalypse was a fight between Heaven and Hell, right, with you two as the champions chosen to fight to the death? Earth was always just collateral. The angels never cared what happened to us humans, and the demons sure as fuck didn't, either, but this Gabriel guy…. He chose to die for humanity. He saw us as living, thinking, feeling beings, which is more than I can say for either of you."
Michael and Lucifer are silent.
"Besides," Adam says, "he died for something he truly believed in. There's no death more honorable than that, right?"
None of this will erase the fact that Lucifer killed their brother, but at least it distracted them.
"You are very wise," Michael says. "For a human."
"Teenage brat," Lucifer mutters. Adam grins and pokes him in the side, laughing when it makes him jerk. He reaches out to Michael with his free hand, beckoning him over. Michael purses his lips but eventually he walks over and settles himself stiffly at Adam's side.
"Don't be like that," Adam says, throwing his arm over Michael's shoulders. It takes him a moment, but he relaxes against Adam's side with a sigh. It doesn't escape Adam's notice that both angels are taking care not to touch each other, but he ignores it in favor of scooting back until they're leaning against the wall. "Come on, guys, we're trapped in Hell! Literally nothing matters anymore, so why spend eternity being pissed off? We can do whatever we want now."
"That's the most positive approach to Hell I've ever heard," Michael says.
"And the saddest and most nihilistic," Lucifer adds.
"Yup," Adam says cheerfully. "So now that we have time, who wants to teach me your weird angel language?"
Adam opens his eyes and immediately closes them against the blinding glare of some bright light. He doesn't know where he is, which, after hundreds of years of consistency, is terrifying. He does know that he's not in the Cage anymore, but that, too, isn't comforting at all. He idly wonders how messed up it makes him that he wishes he was back in Hell.
The ground is soft and springy and wet underneath him. He rolls onto his hands and knees and flexes his fingers in the dirt. It crumbles easily in his hand. His heartbeat speeds up. He's out. He's out he's out he's out he's out-
"I'm out," he says. His voice is croaky and hoarse from disuse, and it only makes him laugh. He opens his eyes wide and welcomes the burning of too-bright light, relishes the feeling of dirt underneath his fingernails as he scratches lines into the ground. He sits back on his heels and brings one hand to his eyes as he looks around.
He's in a cemetery, judging by the tombstones. The same cemetery where Sam had pulled him into the Pit all those years ago. He should probably feel at least a little angry at the thought, but hundreds of years have passed, and his priorities have shifted. And speaking of priorities….
He spots two human-sized lumps not too far away and recognizes them instantly as Michael and Lucifer. They're not moving. Heart racing from fear rather than excitement now, he pulls himself to his feet and stumbles over to them. Their eyes are closed and they're breathing. More than four hundred years he spent in the Cage with them, and not once has he seen them breathe, except when they needed to speak.
"Fuck," he says.
"They're fine," a voice says from behind him, and Adam stiffens in surprise. He hadn't seen anyone else in the cemetery with them. He stumbles to his feet and puts himself between the angels and this unknown person, though he doesn't know what use that will be. He feels like he was just hit by a semi and then tossed into a meat grinder, and in this condition he couldn't even fight off a human, never mind whatever supernatural creature this thing is.
It looks human, though most of the creepy-crawlies do, at first. It's dressed pretty well, all things considered, in a nice pair of jeans and a button down under a black blazer. It's got a short, scruffy beard and is a good half a foot shorter than Adam, but the casual confidence it's holding itself with destroys any hope he may have had of beating this thing in a fight. Not that he had much hope to begin with.
"What did you do to them? Who are you? How did you get us out of the Cage?" Adam asks, and the thing raises its hands to slow down the torrent of questions.
"Whoa, calm down," it says. "Not even I can answer that many questions at once."
Trepidation hits Adam all at once and he's instantly wary. "Who are you?" he asks again.
The stranger rocks back on its heels. "I'm God," it says with a little grin.
Adam punches him in the face.
Surprisingly, he goes down hard, back first onto the ground with a grunt. Adam stands over him, fuming in a way he hasn't in over four hundred years.
"I'd kill you if I could," he says lowly. It's not an idle thread; all that time with Michael and Lucifer has changed him.
"I know," God says. He grimaces and pulls himself to his feet, groaning softly the whole time. It makes him look human, which only makes Adam angrier.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he snaps. He's so furious he can barely speak. "Fucking four hundred years, dude!"
"Four hundred and fifty-nine," God says. "And on earth it's only been a little less than four years, so."
"Only," Adam repeats faintly, laughing faintly. His chuckles turn into full-blown laughter, and he doubles over with tears in his eyes that don't stop falling even after his laughter turns to sobbing. He sinks to his knees and digs his fingers into the ground. The dirt under his nails doesn't feel so good, this time.
God sighs and sinks into a crouch. He reaches out and puts a hand on the back of Adam's neck, kneading gently, and all of a sudden he's the most comforting person Adam's ever met.
"I fucking hate you," Adam whispers, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch. God sighs again.
"I know," he whispers. "I'm sorry."
They sit there for hours, until the sun sets and the wet dirt freezes on Adam's hands and knees. He spares a brief thought for Michael and Lucifer, but they seem fine when he looks over at them. Eventually, God pulls away. Adam's body is stiff and painful when he does the same. He sniffs and wipes at the frozen tear tracks on his face. Everything hurts.
"I can take away the pain if you want," God offers, but Adam shoots him such a venomous glare that he immediately holds his hands up in surrender.
"Why did you take us out of the Cage?" Adam asks, his voice a rough whisper. He knows intimately what kind of monster lurks in a graveyard at night, but he's not afraid, not when faced with such an opportunity for answers.
"You were never supposed to be in there in the first place," God says with a shrug, as if the Apocalypse hadn't ruined Adam's entire life. "They got out on good behavior." He looks at Adam seriously. "I need you to know something. I've only ever told this to Gabriel, and he doesn't even remember it."
Adam frowns in confusion, then dismisses it with a shake of his head. "Why should I do anything for you?"
"You shouldn't," God says. "People think you were made to serve me, but honestly? You were nothing more than proof for something I was trying to prove to someone a long time ago."
"Wonderful," Adam mutters.
"Adam," God says. His voice feels heavy all of a sudden, as if carrying the weight of the entire universe behind it. Adam finds himself paying attention without even deciding to. "Adam, I never wanted the Apocalypse. Never."
Frustrated tears well in Adam's eyes. "Then why the hell didn't you do anything to stop it?" he asks.
God looks sad. "I'm tired, Adam. I'm so fucking tired."
"You don't have that right," Adam whispers. "Not after what you did to us." He thinks of Sam and Dean, manipulated their whole lives into being nothing more than puppets for two angels to control. He thinks of Michael and Lucifer, who just wanted to be good sons to a father who didn't care enough about them to guide them. He thinks of Gabriel, who left his family so he didn't have to watch it be torn apart, only to die at the hands of his own brother.
"I'm sorry," God whispers. He sounds broken.
"I don't care," Adam replies coldly. "All that talk about destiny and inescapable fate? Bullshit. You brought this down on yourself."
"Well, I'm trying to fix it," God snaps. "You think I don't know this is my fault?" He points to Michael and Lucifer. "I had to lock my own sons in Hell. I had to watch Lucifer kill Gabriel. I had to watch the world I built, the humans I love, all of it fall to shit, and there was nothing I could do about it!"
Adam shuts his eyes. He's so, so tired, both physically and mentally, and especially emotionally. "I can't deal with this right now," he says. His voice cracks. "Please, just go."
God is silent for a moment. Adam doesn't look at him, and eventually he hears the crunch of dirt as he stands. There aren't any footsteps, but he's gone when Adam opens his eyes. He lets out a shuddering breath.
Michael and Lucifer don't stir when Adam crawls over to them. They feel warmer than they ever did in the Cage, so Adam doesn't worry about them freezing to death. His stomach cramps unpleasantly every time he moves and his mouth feels like cotton, but he's too tired to think about food or water right now. He doesn't even care that the three of them are essentially defenseless and out in the open.
There's a space between the angels that's just big enough for Adam to fit. He drops into it and arranges them so they each have an arm draped around his waist and his head is pillowed on Michael's arm. He falls asleep with the soft sound of the wind blowing gently through the gravestones. It seems to be whispering, Be strong.
"I will," he says, and sleeps.