[Taken from my tumblr]
Here have some random… thing. Because shut up.
Here, have some angst-laced, post!Cage Adam/Michael… stuff. Heavily AU. (Gabriel's alive, Michael and Adam are out of the Cage, Michael has a separate vessel, etc.,etc..)
trigger warning for implied self-inflicted injuries and psychological torture
It's not enough to physically be out of the Cage.
Adam can't count the number of times Michael's had to hold him down to keep him from hurting himself or—now that they're back with Dean and Sam—how many times he's been locked in the panic room and strapped down to the bed there. Michael's never far away, but he's… different. He doesn't radiate like he did before the Cage. He still walks with a sense of purpose and he still gives off an air of confidence (or, maybe it's something else; because Gabriel and Castiel have become increasingly flighty around the Archangel), but not… something's missing.
He keeps his distance from Adam, even when he obviously doesn't want to. He'll inch forward and then shy away; he'll help hold the human down until Dean or Sam or Bobby manage to strap him to the bed and then back off into a corner; he'll stay perched on a chair, sometimes the table, and just observe until he's given explicit permission to come closer. (Permission is more of an understatement; really, it's little more than Adam snapping for him to stop fucking around.)
And when he's given that 'permission', he'll be on the bed before the threats can leave Adam's lips; he'll have his arms secured firmly around his former vessel and just stay in that spot until Dean or Sam comes to check on Adam. The second the door to the Panic Room opens, he's back in the corner, back on the desk, on the chair… and Adam has a few, terrible minutes of panic—those few minutes where he'll be back in the Cage and it isn't just Michael drawing away; it's Lucifer tearing Michael away, it's two Graces—one completely twisted to adapt to the Cage, the other still fighting and starting to lose—ripping into each other without any conscious thought.
Eventually, they'll draw away from each other. Lucifer snarling out curses that Adam can't make out without Michael; and, Michael will curl around Adam, cleanse him of what taint he can, and return to his vessel in some desperate attempt to heal faster than he knows he will. Michael will have his arms around Adam, mumbling old prayers and borderline nonsense—nonsense that Adam's learned to recognise as Michael reciting the years of history he's watched from Heaven—in a desperate attempt to keep sane. And, Adam lets him; he lets Michael cling as tightly as he needs to and knots his fingers in the Archangel's wings for the few minutes they have before Lucifer pulls himself back together.
Outside of the Cage, he doesn't have that certainty.
When he's strapped down, he can't reach for Michael; and, even when Michael throws Dean and Sam (and Castiel and Gabriel) out of the panic room with more force than he needs to, when Michael rips the restraints away to hold Adam still himself and assure him that everything's all right, Adam can't hold onto the words. He screams when the memories don't leave and especially so when they don't continue like they should. When reality and memories blur and Michael isn't torn away from him when he should be, the panic gets worse. He's waiting for Lucifer to tear Michael away—to tear him apart, even—and when it doesn't happen, he doesn't calm down.
He knows it's coming; it's just a matter of time and a matter of Lucifer toying with his head, no matter how often Michael tries to tell him otherwise.
It isn't enough to physically be out of the Cage; not after centuries on top of centuries of listening to hissed words and a terrifying routine that he's gotten far too used to.
Michael tries to tell him it's over and that he's safe; but, he doesn't believe him. Not because of the Cage (well, perhaps that has some sort of contribution), but because Michael doesn't believe it. Michael's just as shattered and terrified of the broken routine as he is.