Title: Tangles
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: Night's Fang
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Adam. Implied Sam/Adam
Rating: Teen
Word Count: #1224
Summary: Adam is still in Hell, soul fraying and scattering in grace with no one to pull him together, like he did for Sam. And Sam can do nothing, but hunt, and dream of white.
Warnings: Implied incest. Mentions of Hell.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I think we've established this by now, yeah?
The cage isn't dark. At least Sam thinks he's in the cage, because it's not cage like and he's sure he's floating. It's all white light. A different sort of white light. Hot and freezing, and it's all around scattering him, and compressing him. Sam thinks he could probably lose himself in the light, except he can't seem to think. There's no pain, just this floaty not there feeling. It's peaceful, and Sam wants to give into it completely. The world is white here, and it would be so easy to lose himself in the vast whiteness.
He thinks he can hear a voice. He's not sure because everything is constant high pitched ringing that never ceases. He'd try and look, but everything is white and he's so scattered it wouldn't help. But in his dim awareness, he can definitely hear something. Then he can feel something – or is it someone? – pulling in little bits of himself together in the vast white. Whatever it is, it's warm and welcoming. There's a sense of familiarity in it. There's safety in it, more safety than the whiteness, and Sam in all his scatterdness and dim awareness clings and tangles into it.
The ringing is still there, but the voice is clearer now, and oh god, it hurts when Sam realises who it is. He feels like throwing up, but he's still too much air and light to do that. And through all the nausea the guilt brings, he can still hear Adam's voice around him, getting louder, pulling together fraying strings of him before they crumble, shielding him from the raw graces all around them. Protecting him.
-x-
Sam doesn't fall into Hell alone.
It takes Sam a good ten minutes to realise he's staring at the sky. The sky is vast over him, vast enough to remind him of the whiteness. And the tiny dots of brightness he's seeing, isn't his vision being wonky, but stars. He can smell grass, and fresh air, and he's breathes in it like someone who's come up from drowning. The night air is cool against his sweat slicked skin, and he's feeling giddy with joy.
It's not a dream. He's out.
He turns around, smiling. No one's there.
Sam doesn't fall into Hell alone, but he gets out alone. Suddenly there's no joy in his freedom any more.
-x-
Adam is all subtle gestures and fluid like water. He makes his way through the white – grace he informs Sam – like a river changing it's course to move through every obstacle, guiding Sam. Sam is still unaware, and sometimes crashes into more white, and before he can get too close, Adam pulls him away. Sometimes the ringing gets too loud and Adam wraps around him, drowning out the sound.
Adam pulls at stray threads that look like they don't belong, and weaves them into Sam. Sam wants to ask why he's doing this. But every time he tries, Adam anticipates it, and tangles more threads into him, and Sam forgets.
Time is eternity here. There's nothing in this world right now except for avoiding Michael's and Lucifer's memories, and him and Adam. Sam doesn't mind it.
-x-
He calls Castiel. It's the first thing he does. It's also the second, third, and from the fourth to the four hundred and eighty seventh thing he does. Calls him continuously. He probably prays more than the Pope.
Who brought him out? Why? Sam wants to know. He needs to know.
The days pass. The world is white under his eyelids. White is all Sam can see when he closes his eyes, even though he's left Hell ages ago.
He still keeps calling, keeps praying. Castiel never answers and Sam keeps seeing white when he closes his eyes.
He's sometimes starting to see green-grey eyes. He's started seeing memories that aren't his. Memories of a person who frayed himself to tie up Sam back together, even though he had every reason not too and it hurts. It hurts something fierce, because Sam's had another brother go to Hell for him. It hurts because he's lost something he's always wanted, before he could ever have it. And all he has now is frayed threads tangled into his being, and ghosts of a memory.
-x-
Why? Sam asks, because he needs to know. Adam has no reason to help him. No reason to take care of him. He's part of the reason Adam is here after all.
You came for me, Adam says, leaning against his shoulder. Grace surrounds them enough to suffocate but Sam's gotten used to it now. When I was in that room with Zachariah, you and Dean came for me. That means something.
Besides, he says practically, it's not like we have anyone else but each other over here right?
Sam squashes the feelings of guilt that multiply tenfold with that statement.
-x-
Samuel finds him. Takes him in. Introduces him to his cousins. Calls him family. Tells him about finding out what's responsible for suddenly bringing people back to life. Sam just nods and tries to fit in awkwardly. He's not used to having cousins. All he's ever had was his father and more importantly his brother. So he just nods and listens, and hunts. He wants answers after all.
He wants Dean back, because he doesn't know what to do. But Dean is finally building his happily ever after, and Sam doesn't want to take that away from him
He wants Adam back more. Here and next to him, safe. But Adam is still in Hell, soul fraying and scattering in grace with no one to pull him together, like he did for Sam. And Sam can do nothing, but hunt, and dream of white.
-x-
They have nothing to talk about but nonsensical stupid things to pass the time, and Adam takes the lead, while Sam follows. He tells Sam about school, college, stupid pranks, all his time spent in the chemistry lab, cooking experiments, anything and everything.
Sam, who never really had a normal life, and hence really can't remember something normal, sticks to awkwardly telling Adam about his funniest hunts, and prank wars with Dean. Adam laughs at those. It's a rich, warm sound, that drowns out the ringing in Sam's ears, and brings a smile to his face.
-x-
Sam knows he's come back different. He knows the way he's going isn't good, isn't right. Dean knows it too. It's obvious in his eyes that no matter what excuse he'll give, Dean still knows. And Dean being the big doting always there for him brother that he is, will try and wear away at him in his own way, until Sam spills. Whether in anger or just stone cold sureness. Sam knows this. He's grown up around Dean. It's why he wanted to be back around Dean.
Except it isn't Hell that bothers Sam. Dean isn't the person he wants at his side. Isn't the person he needs at his side, even though he is. And though everything should be right, it's just wrong. Dean isn't Adam and he can't do anything about that.
Adam is still in the cage, scattering into nothingness. Nothing can change that. And all Sam can do is dream of 'what could have beens', and 'happily ever afters' that will never be his.