Just Another Brick
It soon became clear why Adam was here.
The Wall was a masterpiece of metaphysical architecture…but all masterpieces of architecture require maintenance.
Death had simply picked the best maintenance man for the job. No soul but Sam knew the Cage better than Adam. No soul but Sam knew the horrors Lucifer could inflict when focusing his immense powers of concentration on a single endeavour, on a single being.
No soul but Sam would have any idea how to stem the tide of those awful, awful memories, and Sam was in no condition to maintain the Wall. So, the job fell to Adam.
Thanks to the covenant between he and Michael, Adam was mostly whole and largely unscathed by the Cage. Oh, he witnessed the horrors of it, yes, but he wasn't a gibbering wreck. He hadn't been torn apart, meticulously put back together and then taken apart again, and again, and again the way Sam had. His soul wasn't in twitching tatters that were only just figuring out how to heal themselves.
Adam was in relative working condition. Adam was mostly whole. Adam knew how to deal with the Cage, and so he was going to keep the memories of it at bay inside his brother's head.
Some might have resented it.
But every time he thought about it, Adam remembered the one time he and Sam had encountered each other under lock and key; for a moment, the shield of Michael's wings had opened as he prepared to strike at Lucifer, trying to keep the other Archangel at bay but inadvertently leaving Adam exposed.
Lucifer had reared back, eyes aflame and grinning like a striking snake – and then Sam had reached for him. Reached out for his tormenter, and struck out with his puny human fists. Lucifer's focus had re-shifted in an instant.
Just as Sam intended.
Adam had looked, for that brief instant, into his brothers eyes.
I'm sorry.
So am I.
There can be no resentment here. Only gratitude.
