Adam ended up retreating into the kitchen.
He was too worried about Michael to deal with the crowd that had gathered. Lucifer's silent stares - something was up with him, but Adam couldn't figure out what just yet - his brothers occasional glances, and just the talk about the sword in general was just a little more than Adam could take. He was still a little pissed that Rowena hadn't brought it up to him the night before, but he also understood why she hadn't; for one, she didn't know for certain, regardless, and everything would be much easier to sort out when everyone else was there, as well. Still, the demon was having a hard time grasping the theories they were throwing around, the guesses, because that's all they were; Adam wanted facts. Cold, hard facts. Not conspiracy theories.
For a moment - just a moment - he wanted to break.
But not… break. Not… shatter, helplessly, into a million broken little pieces. He didn't want to break down, or break apart - but he wanted, he so desperately wanted to break. He wanted to snap, he wanted to punch a wall, he wanted to tear apart everything in the kitchen that he could dig his fingers into; he wanted to touch something and watch it go up in flames. He wanted to rip the floor apart bit by bit, he wanted to… truth be told, the violent imagery in his head hardly spoke volumes about what he wanted. The red haze sweeping across his vision felt more like a bomb ticking its life away, counting down to every last second, becoming stronger and stronger until it reached the moment where everything would just explode. And he wanted it to explode.
Laying a hand gently on the table, he screwed his eyes shut and doubled over, breathing in sharply. The rage was so much harder to calm without Michael there, and he was well aware of that; well aware, remembering, how easy it was for the archangel to keep him steady, keep him grounded. Even if Adam could sometimes talk himself down from punching some poor passerby, it was seldom that he could talk himself out of any other kind of violent outburst. He still found himself snarling at strangers, showing his teeth to anyone who brushed against him in a crowded area, he still found himself imagining ripping the flesh off of their bones while they burned and screamed and choked on their own blood - he still imagined it, and sometimes the images scared him. The human part of him, at least, grew more and more frightened by the day. Even he recognized that despite how together he could pretend to be, and tell himself he was, he was still breaking apart, steadily and surely, without Michael to lean on for support.
Bending over further, he buried his face into his arms, latching his teeth around a small patch of skin and digging them in slowly. The pain hardly even registered, too numb, even now, for it to hurt in any kind of way - but the sensations remained, the feeling of his teeth grating against his skin even if he didn't quite feel the pain that should come with it, so he found himself grinding down against his arm for a good few seconds - only pulling back before he reached the point where he was close to drawing blood, clasping one hand over the bite mark and grimacing.
It was ineffective compared to what Michael could do to calm him down, but it was grounding enough for him to be able to redirect the anger into determination.
Alright, here were the facts; Michael was unconscious. He had used his powers, healing Dean, biting off a bit more than he could chew with that. Adam wasn't really surprised, to be honest. Not since it was Michael. Anyway, he had healed Dean from a sword - a sword that was, apparently, a weapon of Heaven, according to Lucifer and even Gabriel, who had admitted that the sword looked frighteningly familiar, just… unplaceable. To be completely honest, it felt like something even to him - but the small tugs at his brain could have just been something from Michael's side of things, and if so, maybe there was still some hope left for their connection. But the demon still couldn't sense any type of emotion from him, not even a small twinge.
Heaving himself upwards, away from the table, Adam turned and sank back against it, letting himself fall backwards onto it, flat on his back. He knew he probably shouldn't be laying on the table, but to be completely honest, at that point, he didn't care. He'd kill for a comfortable position at that point, as restless as he felt right then. So, more facts, and those facts were; Michael probably wasn't dreaming. Adam would have been able to connect with him if that were the case, and Dean, surely, should have been able to find the archangel. According to the hunter, he could still feel him there - he was still inside Dean, but he had retracted, just enough apparently, his Grace curled up in an unreachable corner of the hunter's mind he couldn't get to. So he was unconscious, and likely trapped, somewhere within his own mind. Too far out of reach for both Adam and Dean, despite the connection - which, he thought dryly, severed any kind of chance at contact - including telepathic, but that had never worked well for them anyway.
After a beat of silence, Adam's gaze flicked up.
Connecting through their thoughts had never been an easy feat for either of them, but Michael had admitted once that every so often, he could hear bits and pieces of what Adam was saying. He'd described it as more of a prayer than Adam speaking to him through their connection, though - but if that was true, and if the demon could reach Michael through prayer, then it would have nothing to do with their seemingly breaking connection. It was coming from beyond the connection they shared, right? It was still a way to contact him, however fragile.
Settling back against the table, the demon frowned slightly, mouth twisting. Even if it did work, though, he was still a little iffy on the prayer thing; how to make it reach the angel. His mother had told him once that it wasn't just God who heard every prayer, but certain angels could hear them, too, if they were prayed to directly. Folding his arms across his chest, Adam considered that. He didn't have anything left to lose by trying, especially considering that if his efforts succeeded, he might be able to talk to Michael - if only as a one-way kind of deal. But maybe it would be enough to stir the archangel, maybe enough to jolt him from his comatose state. Adam narrowed his eyes a little, then let them drift shut, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.
Michael, he began tentatively, though his thoughts still faltered after the word, as if waiting, instinctively, for some kind of internal response; swallowing, he pushed down the lingering disappointment and continued pressing on, halo, I don't know if you can hear this, but…
He blinked his eyes open, taking in a breath, and reached behind him to grab onto the edge of the table, lightly pushing himself up onto it now and letting his legs swing down over the side. He kicked them back and forth lightly, trying to pretend he was back in the playground, swinging side by side with his body-buddy, just like the good old days when it was just him and Michael in the Cage. It was odd to think of the Cage as the good old days, even now, even when that's what they'd always been - but he'd give anything to have Michael back now and be trapped in the Cage with him, rather than having his best friend unconscious, possibly still hurt.
Adam wondered if emotions could be conveyed through prayer as well as thoughts could; he wondered if Michael would be able to sense the desperation, the longing, the fear.
Look… The demon started again, sucking in a breath through his teeth and slowly clasping his hands together in his lap. You gotta wake up, man. I don't know what's happening with you- I can't feel a damn thing, and it's… He struggled for a moment, trying to figure out how to word what he wanted to say, and his brain supplied the answer before he could, it scares the hell out of me, man, it really does. Y'know, even I could still feel some things from your side, even when I was back with Bela- but now it's just… nothing. There's nothing. He allowed a moment of silence to pass, simply to gather the rest of his thoughts. He found the tension in his shoulders draining, if only slightly. Dean can't even feel you. Not really. He said you're just too far outta reach, even for him, and you're in the guy's head. I'm going to… I'm going to try to come in there myself. See if there's any way I can pull you outta this if you can't, but Mike, man, please… if I can't reach you even in there, I don't… I don't know what…
He found his breathing hitching, though no tears came. He wasn't sad, he was just scared. Scared of what might be happening to his friend, and what might have already happened. Still, through this, he found his determination, his calmness, his relief, in the reminder that he was going to find Michael soon. Even if he couldn't, maybe Amara's healing could jolt something back to life, wake him up, if the prayer failed and Adam couldn't find him before then.
I need you, Adam finally continued, unfalteringly this time, confidence renewed. That's the thing with us, man, I need you, and you need me. We only had each other then, and we only got each other now. So I don't care what it takes, I don't care what I gotta do, you understand? Michael, I'm gonna fix this. One way or another, I'm gonna get you outta there, and we're gonna kick Chuck's ass into the hole, and then we're gonna start over. You and me. No God, no grand story. We write our own beginning, and we write our own ending. We're the ones that broke through. We're the ones that weren't supposed to be part of the story, but we put ourselves in anyway. So let's make it ours- you and me, just like it's always been, and kick it in the ass.
He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. His shoulders dropped, releasing the tension, the weight that had been building up against them, stacking higher and higher with - as it seemed - each little problem that was thrown his way. But, the prayer, even if it did little on Michael's end, had restored some strength in the demon's resolve.
"Hey."
Adam paused, eyes blinking open at once to look over. He was faintly surprised that he hadn't been startled by Sam's sudden appearance, the simple, quiet word that left his brother's lips as he wandered into the kitchen. He was usually so easily startled - especially recently, but maybe it was just something about the cautious way that Sam approached him that kept him at ease. He pulled his hands apart, instead choosing to place them on the table on either side of him, propping himself up on his arms as he leaned backwards and crossed one leg over the other. "Hey," he greeted simply, eyes tracking his older half-brother as Sam went toward the fridge. The demon spared a slightly impatient look toward the doorway - because, really, how long did it take to go to and from the Empty? He'd only been there once, though, so…
"You want a beer?" Sam checked, looking back at him for a second. Adam paused to look over at him, his mouth twisting slightly as he thought that over. Alcohol didn't even work on him anyway, and he wasn't particularly thirsty, but… well, it would keep him occupied for the time being. So, he offered his brother a nod, and Sam pulled out a beer as well as a water bottle, turning and tossing the beer bottle over to Adam; the demon just barely caught it, wincing a little as he had to use his powers at first to keep it levitating in the air just a half-second before he could actually reach it, just to make sure it didn't crash to the ground. Sam watched, grimacing. "Sorry."
"Nope. All good," Adam replied steadily, taking a deep breath and leaning back with a sigh. He didn't mind using his powers, even though he was trying to keep it at a minimum for now. He looked down, easily twisting the cap off and frowning down at the liquid, but he said nothing, bringing the bottle to his lips to take a small sip, clearing his throat after he'd swallowed. "I don't care about burning off the rest of my humanity or whatever, not really. But Michael does, so…" He heaved out a sigh, shaking his head a little. "Yeah."
Sam nodded slightly, seeming to hesitate for a few moments as he cracked his water open and took a few sips, leaning back. After a while, though, he did speak up again, taking a deep breath. "You know," he started, carefully. "I was going to suggest… y'know, before this whole plan, but- I was gonna suggest… curing you, before Michael possessed you again." At this, Adam visibly paused, blinking, and flicked his gaze up to Sam once again, eyebrows raising.
"Curing me?"
"Yeah." Sam paused, lightly spinning the bottle in his hands as he pursed his lips, mouth twisting, shifting slightly where he stood before finally bringing his gaze back to Adam's. "There's a demon cure. It'd basically be like… y'know, turning you back into a human, I guess. No worrying about burning off your soul, or Chuck's plan, or…" He gestured one hand vaguely toward Adam, who just sat back a little, blinking. "And, it'd probably be a lot easier on you. I didn't wanna say anything before, 'cause I wasn't sure if it would work with Michael there…"
Adam zoned out for a moment, Sam's voice somewhat fading into the background as the demon furrowed his eyebrows, lost in his own thoughts now. A demon cure. A way for him to be human again. But even if he wasn't planning to use the whole demon thing to his advantage, to possess Dean and find Michael, would he take the chance? Would he want that? He had to consider it from all sides here - his human side as well as his demon side. Of course, that part of him was practically buzzing at the idea of being able to feel things the way he had before. To not be so blindly angry all the time - but then, at the same time, the rest of him was holding back. It wasn't that it was a bad idea, and every part of Adam recognized this, but it was just that it would be such a big change, and one he wouldn't be able to undo if he agreed. He couldn't use the Michael thing as an excuse; he could always go back and do it later, it would just require a brief split, right? The archangel would still be able to possess him even if he were human. He'd done it before. So that wasn't the problem here - this was Adam's choice, his choice alone.
But, again, such a big change would come from it. He'd be human. He'd be vulnerable. He'd be able to die, he'd have to eat, he'd be so much more tired than he already was with the little bit of humanity he had left already dragging him down. It would get in the way; how would he be able to protect Michael if he was human? And wouldn't it just mean Michael would have to work double-time to protect him? And, beyond that, beyond the archangel, the demon just didn't know how he felt about it in general. When the Cage had begun twisting him, when the Transformation had begun, he would've given anything for it to just stop, for him to go back to being human, hating the way it had changed him, the way he felt. But things were different now.
He was different now.
He wasn't even explosively, destructively, dangerously angry anymore. At least, when he got to those points, he could calm himself down - and so could Michael, he always had. Truth be told, Adam was rather content with the way things were, and with the way he was. Even being a demon had some perks sometimes, aside from just, in general, the abilities that came with it. Being a demon rendered him immortal, able to live by Michael's side forever. And while he was certain that just being with Michael, even as a human, the archangel could make sure he never died - he still thought that things were better off this way. It was just the way he was.
"No," he finally spoke up again after a long time, probably interrupting Sam, though the word wasn't harsh, or angry, just simple and direct, down to the point. His brother paused, glancing up at him, as Adam shook his head a little, leaning forward slightly and propping himself up with one hand, the other one still gripping the beer bottle. "I'm alright with what I am, Sam. This is me - the me that I'm comfortable with. The me I've been for ten years- no, the me I've been for… over a millennia." Adam paused for a moment, pursing his lips. "I appreciate the offer. I really do. But you don't… you don't have to try and fix me, Sam." His lips twitched. "I'm not broken."
Sam stayed silent, studying him as he thought over those words. Then, finally, he huffed out a quiet laugh and nodded. "Well said," he mumbled. "If you change your mind, though…"
"I'll let you know," Adam mused, offering his older half-brother a small smile, which was returned warmly, if not slightly guiltily. After a few seconds of silence, the demon spoke again, slow and careful as he added, "and you don't have to make up for anything with it, either," he noted, watching Sam's expression shift to a mixture of surprise and uncertainty, before it was shadowed over by guilt once again. "What happened back then, it wasn't anyone's fault. Wasn't yours, wasn't mine, wasn't Michael's, or Lucifer's. It was all just a part of Chuck's grand plan. And I just didn't fit in. You couldn't have done anything he didn't want you to do."
"Still…" Sam closed his eyes for a moment, sighing deeply through his nose, and turned his head away from the demon. "What you must have went through in the Cage."
"It wasn't all bad," Adam admitted, frowning slightly now, as he let his thoughts drift back to the years he spent locked up in a Cage, with Lucifer and Michael for company - and then, when Lucifer had left, just him and Michael. No, it definitely hadn't been all bad. "Y'know, I mean, the first few years, they weren't…" He took a deep breath, letting it out in a slow sigh. "But I had Michael. And Luce was there. Hell, he was probably one of the only reasons my brain didn't melt into pudding down there," the demon admitted carefully. "I don't know if you know, but-"
"Lucifer didn't do anything in the Cage," Sam finished quietly, looking back over at him.
"I can't speak for whatever he did once he got out. But I can tell you that he wasn't at all responsible for anything that happened to me- or to you, for that matter," Adam added. "He wasn't the reason I turned into a demon down there. The Cage was responsible for that. Hell, he tried to stop it - he and Michael both, but… I don't know, guess it was just too strong. After the Transformation, though, it was easier to just exist in there, I guess. It wasn't so bad, after that."
Sam looked down for a moment, shrugging slightly as he lifted the water bottle back to his lips, downing a few more careful swallows and sinking back even further. "You still didn't deserve…" He trailed off, and Adam frowned slightly, wondering whether he was going to say to be left behind or to be tortured - either one, to be honest, went hand-in-hand, but neither one were the Winchesters' fault, and this was just something he had long come to accept by now.
He found his answer rather easily, though, a faint but genuine smile tugging at his lips as he lifted his own bottle to his lips. "Since when do we get what we deserve?" He asked simply after he'd swallowed his mouthful, and Sam's gaze flicked up to him at once, widening slightly, before his expression abruptly softened, the raging guilt steadily fizzling out, a small smile appearing.
"... spoken like a Winchester."
"Spoken like a Milligan," Adam corrected teasingly, though he couldn't deny that Sam's words had his smile widening just a little bit more. He might be ready to accept that he was a Winchester, but he'd still always be a Milligan. Someone had to honor his mother's memory.
"Yeah." Sam offered him a smile, short and sweet, a level of understanding and compassionate that Adam could vaguely recall from his mother - but, stronger than that, it reminded him of Michael. Of the soft, shy smiles his best friend would offer him, the caring gestures and the warm expressions that were so often written across his face; on some level, he acknowledged, Sam reminded him of Michael to some extent. He, honestly, always had. Maybe that's why it was so hard for Adam to hate him in the long run - and maybe that's why it was so hard for Dean to hate Michael. Despite himself, the demon almost laughed at the thought. Go figure. At this point, it genuinely wouldn't have surprised him. He saw how much his brothers cared for one another - and he had long accepted, even though it had hurt at first, that he would never truly be a part of the tightly-knit circle they were in together. To be honest… he didn't want to be.
But it wasn't out of anger for them, or any deep-rooted hatred. They were his brothers, and he liked them fairly well. Maybe one day he'd even grow to love them, he was getting there. But, until then, he was satisfied with the arrangement they had. Sam and Dean had each other, through thick and thin, that's just how it had always been with them and Adam didn't expect them to invite him fully into the relationship they shared. Their connection was much like his and Michael's, in some ways, and Adam knew if the roles were reversed, it'd be exactly the same. But just as Sam and Dean had their relationship, Michael and Adam had theirs. They had their own circle that nobody else was allowed to break into, their own connection nobody would truly be able to grasp. And in some ways, their relationship was even stronger than Sam and Dean's.
After all, his brothers could only be together physically. Adam and Michael connected on a much deeper level, a spiritual level, connected not by blood, but by souls. And you can say that blood is thicker than water all you want, but in most cases, sometimes water could be much more pure. It was clearer, it was cleaner. And maybe it didn't pump through your veins as strongly, but it was still a part of you, and you still needed it to survive just as well. So, see, Adam didn't need to be a part of the Winchester duo. He'd happily accept them as his brothers and he'd even allow himself to grow fond of them, but the only one he needed was Michael.
Shaking his head a little, he hopped off of the table, finally ready to face the crowd again and see if Jesse was there yet so he could get this show on the road, and get back to his other half. "If this doesn't work," he told Sam, "shoot me when I get back. I'm not interested in a world without Michael, by any means." He was only half-serious - and only half-serious because he was also going to make sure that Chuck suffered long and hard for whatever he did if he couldn't get Michael back this way. He was going to destroy the motherfucker.
The nervous smile on Sam's face made it clear that he didn't know whether or not the demon was joking - which was fair, because neither did Adam, so. The demon stretched and turned, heading into the living room again without a word, and downing half of his beer in the process. Not that it would do anything, but it was worth a shot. Everyone else was still there, but Adam was more so relieved to see Jack and Jesse had turned, both of them leaning forward across one of the tables on separate sides from each other, grinning as they spoke.
Jesse flicked his gaze up, however, when Adam walked in, and his amused grin seemed to widen ever so slightly. "Well, hey, it's about time," he spoke smoothly, his voice not giving away a hint of the emotion on his face; and, pretty soon, Adam watched as it rapidly dissipated, a calm mask of… complete, utter blankness replacing the warm smile that had been there before. Adam still wondered how he could do that so easily - to go back and forth just like that, like it was nothing, but he had other concerns. He didn't even react to the teasing words, just sighed.
The demon looked toward Dean, changing direction to head over to his brother and setting the beer bottle down on the table. "You ready?" He checked, direct and to the point. Dean paused a little, looking over at him, took a deep breath, nodded, and straightened up a little, looking over at Gabriel. Adam didn't understand, not at first, until his brother tugged his shirt down slightly, revealing a tattoo - at first glance, it reminded Adam of the Devil's Trap he had been trapped in back at Chuck's, but even this was much different somehow. "What's that?"
"Anti-possession tattoo," Dean explained, watching as Gabriel moved over, lightly pressing one finger down against the tattoo. The hunter clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, and Adam watched with growing interest as the tattoo began to glow, white hot with the archangel's power; and then, just as quickly, the glow faded and the tattoo was gone, skin clear, as if it had never been there in the first place. "Keeps demons out," Dean added to Adam, nodding at Gabriel in thanks and tugging his shirt back up again. "And I'm try'na let one in, so, it's gotta go."
"Mm." Adam quirked an eyebrow, actually somewhat impressed.
"So, all ready now." Dean spread his hands out and sank back against the chair again. He actually seemed rather calm, though the demon wasn't too surprised by that anymore. With the whole experience with Michael, Adam was sure, he had healed the hunter in more ways than one. Maybe he wasn't entirely 'pro-possession', but he was comfortable with it, at least, in certain cases, with certain people. Adam allowed himself to relax a little bit, as well, slowly moving over to sit down - since he wasn't going to have control of his own body, it was probably best that he was sitting when he left it, so that he didn't, like… crash to the ground or anything. Not that it would hurt, but it'd be annoying once he was back, so…
"A'ight," Jesse popped his knuckles, glancing between them. "So just keep in mind, I've never done this to a half-angel before… nor have I ever purposefully made a demon possess someone, but, if need be, Jack here'll take care of it, too." He smiled over at the Nephilim, who just grinned back at him innocently in response, shifting and moving around the table to stand beside him. Jesse leaned back a little, flicking his gaze back to Dean and Adam. "Speaking of the whole half-angel thing, would Adam need consent to possess you, or…?"
Dean paused, looking over at the demon, who gave a bewildered look in response. Honestly, he had no idea. Hell, he hadn't even known he was half-angel in the first place, so it wasn't like he knew all the tricks or anything. "I mean… I don't know," Dean tried, "yes, just in case?"
Adam snorted a little, as did Jesse and Jack.
"Well, that'll do, I guess." Jesse shook his head a little, lips twitching slightly with barely-restrained amusement, and Dean took a deep breath and lifted his chin when the Cambion raised one hand toward Adam. The demon narrowed his eyes, staying focused for as long as he could, and honestly not feeling any different - until, suddenly, he felt something creeping up his throat, a few wisps of black smoke streaming past his lips. His first instinct was to choke it back down, unconsciously folding his arms around himself and digging his fingers in as deep as he could. He didn't like the feeling, like every part of him was being uprooted. And, of course, he had to dig his claws in for just those few first seconds, just for a moment of control.
Jesse allowed him that, patient as ever, hand still raised, his gaze fixed on Adam. Finally, when the demon sucked in a breath and nodded, he began curling his fingers once again. Despite his discomfort, he managed not to fight this time when the smoke began pouring from his mouth, watching it with a mixture of intrigue and uncertainty as it pooled upwards into the air above him, then made a sharp zig-zag in Dean's direction. The hunter's lips parted before the smoke could even properly reach him, head tilting back, clearly ready for it.
Everything went black for a good few seconds; Adam felt his body slump backwards as the rest of the smoke left, and for a moment, he saw everything from a different kind of perspective, kind of like he was flying; he saw himself moving toward Dean - hell, moving into Dean, as the rest of the smoke streamed past his lips and down his throat. He could feel it, the moment his soul brushed against Dean's, and while the hunter didn't recoil, Adam did, at first. Rather than intertwining their souls, as he would have done with Michael, he continued to push himself further to find the archangel, desperate to feel his Grace again, to feel the buzz, the burn.
When he grazed against it, finally, though, it pulled back. Pushed itself deeper into the corner it was in, but it wasn't quite out of reach just yet; it would just be harder for Adam to get to now.
He brought himself back to Dean, finally wrapping his soul around the hunter's, careful not to take control. Materializing in the darkness, he took a look around, and turned. Dean's memories didn't capture any of his attention; wherever Michael was, he'd likely be in his own head, not Dean's, so the hunter wasn't his focus at all. Finally, taking a deep breath, he started forward. Heading off in the direction he had felt Michael's Grace buzzing, simmering, hiding.
Tell Amara to begin, he instructed Dean, eyes narrowing. I'm gonna find Michael.