Warning: PDSD and violence

Bad Day

Michael rolled over in his and Adam's bed, curling up towards the warm body he expected to find on the other half of the mattress. Instead he was met with nothing but empty space. Michael let out an irritated grumble and sat up. He rubbed at his eyes and peered around the room. Adam was nowhere to be seen. His clothes were still tossed around the floor and Michael couldn't hear the TV playing downstairs.

Sitting up, Michael peaked over at the bathroom joined with Adam's room. The light was off and the door hung wide open.

CRACK!

Michael flinched as he heard something shatter downstairs. He stared at the door leading out of the bedroom and then at the clock on the nightstand. He frowned at the bright green three and two zeros. Adam couldn't be making breakfast. He never ate so early. Maybe he just got up for a snack?

Carefully, Michael slid off his and Adam's bed. He used his fluffy, white wings as a parachute so he wouldn't get hurt on landing. When his feet touched the ground Michael took a few wobbly steps to the door. He hated how weak his body felt in this form. He used to be able to run and fly with ease, but now his legs were only strong enough to hold him for a short period of time and his flight feathers weren't even close to growing in yet. Still, he made do.

Michael waddled out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, spotting Adam standing near the fridge. He was still wearing his pajamas and his hair was a complete mess. At Adam's feet there was a broken coffee mug and he was staring off into the distance with a blurred gaze.

"Adam?" Michael called. Adam stiffened and slowly turned his head. His glazed over eyes burned into Michael and the angel took a hesitant step forward. "Adam, okay?"

Michael had only a second to dodge the plate thrown at him. He jumped, throwing himself across the room and away from the tiled squares where a plate shattered to tiny pieces. With wide eyes Michael looked up at the man that had taken him in. Adam was staring at him like he was the most terrifying creature on Earth. Fast breaths were gasping from his lungs and his entire body was shaking. Michael slowly sat up and Adam flinched away, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"NO! NO! PLEASE, NO MORE!" Adam cried. Michael just stared. "Somebody help me! Sam? Dean? Anybody!"

"Adam!"

"No more. Please, Michael, Lucifer, no more." Michael's gut twisted. So that's what was going on. Adam was hallucinating. The poor boy wasn't standing in the kitchen at three in the morning. He was standing in hell with two bored archangels with pent up anger for the Winchesters and their family.

As slowly and carefully as he could, Michael stood to his feet. He inched over to the shaking boy and pressed a hand to Adam's knee.

"Adam –"

CRACK!

Michael flew back, rolling onto the tiled floor. His cheek burned and fat tears rolled from the corners of Michael's eyes. He tried to force the tears back, but he couldn't. He looked up at Adam. The human was coming at him, threatening to strike again. Michael pushed himself up and ran, darting out of the kitchen and down the hall to the broom closet. He threw himself inside and hid along the line of shoes within. He could hear Adam shouting for him and the angel covered his head, trying to block out the terrible noise.

A fist collided with the closet door and Michael's head shot up. Adam's fist swung out again and the closet door splitting Michael and his hallucinating house mate creaked, threatening to slam open. Michael pushed himself to the door, pressing both hands against the heaving wood. When Adam slammed his entire body against the door Michael nearly went flying by the hit. He was too weak to hold back Adam's hits. He had to find something heavier –stronger to keep Adam at bay.

At first look there was nothing in the closet Michael could use. Old shoes, coats, and other knickknacks cluttered the closet, but nothing of use. On looking a second time Michael found his salvation. Way in the back of the closet there was a large trunk with writing scribbled on it. Michael took a closer look, finding the words Christmas Decorations written in scribbled handwriting. The de-aged archangel chose to risk everything on the heavy looking trunk. He pulled back from the door and crawled up behind the trunk, pushing with all his might. Michael could barely move it, but he didn't give up. He pushed and pushed until it was finally in place by the door. The door rattled aggressively as Adam tried to push it open, but with the trunk keeping the door shut Adam's attempts were impossible. Michael crawled back to the same place he had been before. The archangel covered his head with his hands, willing for Adam to stop.

About an hour passed before Adam's shouting and screaming drained away and was replaced by soft sobbing. Michael slowly raised his head, listening to the whimpering outside his haven. He crawled on his hands and knees, peaking through the crack of the door, but he saw nothing. Michael sucked in a breath, telling himself to be brave before pushing the trunk to the side and then popping open the closet door. Michael crawled on his hands and knees into the hallway, finding the pictures that had been hanging on the wall now shattered on the floor. Michael forced himself onto his feet and maneuvered past the broken glass. He peaked in every room, following the sound of Adam's broken sobs.

Adam was in the laundry room. He had his back pushed up against the dryer and had his knees tugged up to his chest. Michael carefully pattered into the room and stood a foot away from the sobbing hunter. He watched for a minute, taking in the pitiful sight. Guilt played over Michael's heart. This was his fault. He had had a hand in torturing Adam's innocent soul in the pits of hell. Adam had pleaded for mercy, but Michael had shoved away the poor man's pleas and replaced them with screams. Now the sound of screaming was replaced with the broken sobbing of a poor, lost boy.

"Adam?" Michael whispered. Adam slowly raised his head, eyes staring into Michael's. The broken boy reached out towards Michael's face. The angel flinched, closing his eyes. He expected to be struck again, but instead Michael's bruised cheek was met with the gentle touch of the boy he'd spent his time in hell torturing. Michael cracked open an eye, meeting Adam's red ones.

"I'm sorry," Adam whimpered, brushing the purpling bruise slowly taking form on Michael's right cheek.

"Me too," Michael whispered. He pushed himself forward and Adam dropped his knees so the angel could crawl into his lap. Michael held his arms open and wrapped Adam close. Adam dipped his head, letting his tears fall into Michael's dark wisps of hair. Michael cried too, sobbing into Adam's shirt and whispering apology after apology.

Hey look! Michael and Adam finally decided to pop up. I promise they will show up again eventually, but don't expect them for a while.