Calling All Angels

The First Motel and the One Thousandth Sleepless Night

Rubbing his aching eyes, Sam finally folded down the lid of his laptop, jaw widening as he let out a yawn. Looking at the clock, he decided that perhaps half three in the morning was a sign to say he should go to bed. Dean would probably want to be up early, and though he could always sleep in the Impala it was hard sometimes (particularly with his brother's choice of music).

Stiffly making his way over to the bed, Sam slipped off his shoes before sitting on its edge. He was hot, he thought, and took off his shirt too, wondering how Dean could bear to be under the covers at all.

"Mmh, how can he stand it?" a voice mused. "In fact, looking at him, you wouldn't think he even felt warm. Oh – maybe he's not, and it's just you?"

Sam's heart stopped. He refused to believe it. He was just hearing things – another memory from Hell. Overtiredness was probably causing it.

"Aw, Sam," his voice crooned. "Don't cry about it. It's not my fault it's hot down here. But anyway – aren't you gonna say hello?"

Sam closed his eyes. "I'm just hearing things," he said to himself. "This is just a memory. Lucifer isn't here."

"You are hearing things. But, this isn't 'just a memory'. And actually, I'm standing right behind you."

Sam whipped his head around – and sure enough, there was Lucifer, dressed as Nick, smiling and waving as if this was perfectly normal. It wasn't, and Sam leapt off the bed in fright, only just remembering not to scream and wake up his brother. "You're not real!" he gasped.

Lucifer pouted. "Come on, Sam," he whined. "Don't treat me like that. All I want is to hear you say hello!" Sam said nothing, and he rolled his eyes. "Look, it's really not that hard – say it with me: hel-lo loo-si-furrrr!"

"What do you want?" Sam growled.

Lucifer tutted. "Fine, if that's all I'm getting." He shrugged. "Thought I'd come and see how you were doing down here. It's been so long since I heard you scream. I miss the sound."

Sam shook his head. "I'm not in the Cage anymore."

The Devil smirked. "You sure about that?"

About to reply, Sam felt the words melt on his tongue – probably literally; he suddenly felt hot enough to roast a pig. His head went light, his mouth and throat too dry, his lungs heaving with scorching air as he started to sweat. It felt like the world's worst fever, only he knew the cause and it wasn't sickness. He could even smell the sulphur, faintly in the background alongside the stench of burning flesh, and the scents made his stomach heave. He reached out for the bed, felt himself fall onto it, and there he knelt, fisting the sheets as if they were an anchor to the real world.

Lucifer snickered. "You humans never like the heat – not really," he sneered. "Either way, you can't handle it. But you've got nothing to worry about, remember Sam?" He bent over, bringing his face level with Sam's so that he could whisper: "I prefer to run cold."

Even as he said it, the memory overwhelmed him – the memory of being on fire and feeling himself freeze. He had watched the fire burn his skin, but it was ice that had run through his veins and lashed at his soul. The times he did burn had been when Michael or the demons had taken a swipe at him, but the demons didn't have fire like an archangel did. That the Cage itself was made of fire only added to the mixed sensations, and even though it had brought him pain Sam wished to feel the cold on his skin instead of this burning. How had Adam withstood this?

Watching Sam curl into a ball on the bed, Lucifer chuckled gleefully. "I love it when you do that!" he cried. "But seriously Sammy – no sleep for you!" His voice was sing-song, but not as sinister as he could usually make it. The sinister tone came when he leant over to murmur directly into Sam's ear. "We're going to have a lot of fun."

Through the confused waves in his brain, Sam was able to think of one crucial thing. "Adam!" he grunted. "Michael – where are they?"

"Those two?" Lucifer looked around. "They're not here. Why would they be? This is your Torture World, Sam. Our dear brothers have nothing to do with this."

Grimacing as he felt the sting of ice in his core, Sam shook his head. "Not the Cage!"

He heard a sigh. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Didn't you learn anything from our getting-to-know-you sessions?" Lucifer twisted a smile onto Nick's face, and Sam had to look away to stop being flooded with horror-filled memories. "I don't lie!" And as much as he hated to believe it, Sam had to – because it was true. Whenever Lucifer had had time to 'play' with his true vessel, he would outline to Sam everything he was going to do to him in frighteningly specific detail. Then he would do exactly what he said. He would warn Sam of the next time he would come, leaving him with a "pinky promise" before letting Duncan have his fun. He told Sam which methods he preferred, tell him what noises he would force out of Adam, even what his latest fight with Michael had been like. So what reason did Sam have for possibly doubting that he was still in the Cage after all this time?

"Dean."

"Is fake," Lucifer said, but Sam shook his head.

"No." He pushed himself up and the ice caught the cry of pain before it could leave his chest. "No he's not."

"Let's think about this, Sam," Lucifer said, a warning note creeping into his voice. "I'm the Devil, and I don't lie. I've just told you this world is a form of torture, and that you're still in the Cage. Add that to 'I don't lie' and you have…?"

Sam sat on the bed, glaring at the fallen angel between strands of hair. "I know you don't lie, and I know what you're capable of," he said. "But there's one thing you could never recreate – and that's my brother."

Smiling. Lucifer was still smiling. It was a confident, almost smug expression that made Sam want to shrink away into a dark corner where he could hide out of sight. "We'll see about that," the Devil said softly, and Sam could already see the calculations forming in Nick's borrowed eyes. "Boo!"

"Ah!"

Sam jolted upright, slipping off the edge of the bed and landing jarringly on his hip. Wincing, he reached up to pull himself back on to the mattress – and noticed that his shirt was in his hand, and it was torn; a rather large tear through the back, ragged and zigzagged, as if someone had done it by hand.

"Holy crap," he breathed, then remembered who had been stood behind him seconds ago and looked around sharply. There was no sign of Lucifer. In fact, he realised, he didn't even feel hot anymore, and there was no ice in his belly. On the other motel bed, Dean was still sleeping easily, and it was clear that actually he did have reason to wrap himself beneath the covers.

Shaking in time to his beating heart, Sam slowly slid into his own bed, barely noticing the cool stroke of the sheets on his clammy skin. Lying on his side he fixed his gaze on Dean, knowing that if Dean slept through the night then he was safe, and Lucifer was nowhere to be found. All he had to do was keep thinking straight, keep himself ground to reality, and everything would be fine. He would sleep without trouble, with his big brother in the other bed like he always had been when they were younger. There was no Lucifer, and he was not in the Cage. He couldn't be.

Sam stared at Dean until morning. Lucifer didn't come, but neither did sleep.

Adam didn't sleep. Having spent so many sleepless nights in the Cage his body had become accustomed to running without it. It was as if he had a perpetual supply of energy. Regardless, though, sleep was undesirable. He knew what would happen if he closed his eyes, despite what Michael had told him; to close his eyes was to re-live the horrors he'd just escaped from, and even though he experienced flashes of it throughout the day there was a difference between a memory flash and re-living an experience.

The first night back on Earth, he'd gotten bored fairly quickly. Lily had been kind enough to lend him her phone, but when she'd given it to him tonight it had already dropped down to twenty per cent battery life. Stupid phone. At least he could still access the Intern- Bollocks. Sighing in frustration, Adam forgot himself and tossed the dead phone onto the floor.

"Hey." Lily's mumbled protest didn't sound as sleepy as it probably should have done, and Adam turned his head towards her bed. She was watching him from where she lay, glaring at him for how he treated her phone, and he had to admit that he did feel slightly bad about throwing it. Just barely though.

"Sorry," he said, running a hand through his hair.

Sitting up, Lily turned on the bedside lamp. "Can't sleep again?"

"Nope. You?"

"No." She pulled the blanket up to her chin, tucking her knees against her chest. "I keep… I keep seeing that skeleton thing, and I dreamt that it had my parents…" She trailed off, but Adam could fill in the rest.

"Hey, I've been there. It's true," he insisted when she shot him a sceptical look. "My mom was killed by this thing called a ghoul. Then it killed me, looking like her the whole time." Then they tried to kill his stupid half-brothers, but he wasn't going into that territory. Yet.

Lily cringed. "My God, I'm sorry," she said quietly. Adam shrugged. Yeah, he missed his mom like he was missing an organ, but he'd come to terms with what had happened during what felt like his very long life. Or was it? In reality, he was still only nineteen – or twenty something now? – yet because he spent so long in Hell he felt much, much older than twenty. Twenty was the age of a child. He had always been a child in the Cage –

"Adam!"

Blinking, Adam tried to understand what he'd just missed. "What?"

"I said what will we do in the morning? We can't stay here. What if it's following us?"

"Oh it's following us. Or more specifically you."

In the lamplight, Lily's eyes widened. "What?"

Sensing that perhaps that wasn't the best thing he could've said, he tried to make amends. "It's okay, you don't have to worry. I know someone who can, like, hide you."

She frowned. "Like a smuggler or something?"

"No. At least, I'm pretty sure he's not." Then again, Adam had no idea with angels anymore.

Lily seemed eager to be 'hidden'. "Well when can you call him?"

Adam was about to say 'anytime', when he realised that he couldn't actually remember the angel's name. Dammit. "Uh, I'll try first thing in the morning." That seemed to satisfy her. "You should get some sleep until then though."

She nodded, but looked around the room anxiously, as if she expected the shadows to drag her off without warning. "I've never stayed in a motel before," she mumbled.

Adam scoffed. "Is it living up to your wildest expectations?"

"Yes." At first he thought she was being sarcastic, but then she carried on, deadly serious. "I saw this motel in a dream last night."

He frowned, shifting on his bed so that he faced her. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, "it didn't seem important. I mean, it's just a motel."

"Did anything else happen?"

Lily shook her head, but after he eyed her suspiciously for a couple of seconds she growled, "Nothing happened," from between clenched teeth.

He held up his hands. "Okay, easy. Just making sure. Now come on – try and sleep."

With a resigned huff, Lily wriggled back down under her covers. It was a long time before she was truly asleep (and he could sense that her dreams – her actual dreams – were uneasy), and that was when he busied himself with trying to remember. What was that damn angel's name, the one who'd dragged him to his half-brothers in the first place?

Castiel.

Castiel! Of course. Adam almost smiled, a brief feeling of elation dashing once around his body. It thrummed pleasantly in his chest before dying with the realisation that he didn't actually know how to call an angel. Was there some special ritual? Did he need to use a different language? What if he needed a particular item? Eventually, he went for simple prayer.

"Castiel," he whispered, "it's me, Adam Milligan. I need your help – the Boarder House Motel, Minnesota."

The sound of wings (so weak and gentle compared to the magnificent, terrifying appendages of the archangels) – and then Castiel was stood at the end of the bed, eyes wide in the dark as he stared at the Winchester half-blood. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so Adam filled the silence instead.

"I need to call my brothers."

It took Dean a while to register that his phone was ringing. Maybe because he was actually deep in sleep for once, curled up into a foetal position he would never want to be caught in – but it was ringing, and he sluggishly realised that that would mean someone wanted him to answer it. Cursing whoever it was for calling at… well, he didn't want to know, but he finally reached out an arm and pulled the phone off the table. "Yeah?"

"Hello Dean."

Who else? Really, who else had he expected? "What the hell Cas? It's –" He actually dared to look at his watch then, which innocently told him it was five past four in the morning. "It's too early. What do you want?" he snapped.

"You and Sam need to leave, now, and drive for approximately two hours North, maybe a bit longer."

Dean was tempted to outright refuse, but he knew that Castiel rarely called without reason. "Okay. You wanna say why?"

"Of course, I should probably explain. Do you remember my –" As Cas suddenly broke off mid-sentence, Dean could just about make out someone talking in a hushed tone on the other end. "Very well. Is there a phrase I have to say to Dean so that he knows what I'm doing?"

There was a burst of static, indicating that the phone was being jostled somewhat, before a new speaker introduced themselves; "Dean, it's Adam."

Blinking in the dark, Dean asked his sleep-drugged brain if he'd heard that correctly. "Adam?" he echoed.

"Yeah."

Still processing it, he sat up. "Adam as in… Milligan-not-Winchester Adam?"

There was an impatient sigh. "Yes, Adam Milligan. Look, you need to do what Castiel says."

Dean's first instinct was to tell whoever it was impersonating his imprisoned brother to kindly crawl back into whatever hole they'd been spat out of, but as his brain started to properly wake up he concluded that if Castiel was there, then this was legit – it was really Adam talking to him. That, or someone was impersonating Cas, too. He groaned. It was too early for this shit. "Why should we?" he asked, hoping Adam would understand the blunt tone.

"Because I've got a prophet with me, and we're both being hunted by a monster neither of us have seen before. I want to know if you and Sam can help me take it down."

"And you want us to come out into the middle of the night to do this?"

"Yeah, I figured the sooner the –"

"Whoa whoa, wait, wait a second." Dean's mind did a double take as some of Adam's words sunk in. "Did you say help you take it down?"

"Yeah."

The urge to yell was incredible. "Kid, are you out of your mind? Don't answer that," he said suddenly, remembering where it was Adam had been for the last two years. Actually, thinking about it, it was amazing they were having a conversation at all, let alone a coherent one

"I'm serious, Dean," Adam said, sounding frustrated. "I know it's not exactly the best time to call, but the sooner the better, right? I mean, I don't know where this thing is at the minute or how powerful it is, or –"

"And what makes you think we'll know?"

"Well that's what you do isn't it? Research things then take 'em out."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, well normally we have some sort of idea what we're dealing with. And books," he added, "and a library. In case you didn't know Adam, we're in the fucking middle of nowhere here. We can't just up shit and leave because you want some info!"

"This isn't for me, Dean," Adam snapped, "it's for Lily!"

"She this prophet?"

"Yeah she is, and she's just fifteen. Her parents are dead, and I'm all she's got." His tone turned softer, almost pleading as he continued. "Dean, she's scared. If we don't do something to help her, she'll die, and I can't… I won't let that happen. But I need to know what I'm up against."

"Look, Adam," Dean tried again. "I already said: you can't handle this. If you want to meet up, then fine, we'll meet and help you guys out. But now, really?"

"Please Dean. You're the only people I thought of who can do anything."

Despite the circumstances (and past interactions between them), Dean was touched by the sentiment behind the statement. Adam was young, too – he didn't have anyone, like this girl Lily, and if anyone knew and valued the importance of family, it was the Winchesters. "Fine. Two hours North? Straight?"

"Yeah, just follow the road," Adam told him, sounding relieved. "We should meet up somewhere along it." He paused. "Thanks."

"That's okay. Is, uh, is Cas still there?"

"Yeah. You want me to put him on?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Sure." And the phone sounded as if it was being passed over to an angel who didn't quite understand what was happening.

"Hello again Dean."

"Hey Cas. I was just wondering –" and God knows why, because Castiel's judgement hasn't exactly been brilliant lately – "what's your view on all this? I mean… is it really him?"

"Yes Dean. He is clearly human, and there are no signs of possession or mental health problems that I can detect. I would double check with holy water, of course, but seeing as I have none –"

"That, that's not necessary, thanks." Dean made a mental note to teach Castiel about tact. "Although, speaking of mental health, I think you should take a look at Sam as soon as you can."

The meaning was implicit, but the pause between what he said and Castiel's answer confirmed that he'd understood. "You're right. Would you like me to find you now?"

"No, no, just tag along with Adam or something. Maybe you can, uh, shed some light on his situation for him. Help this girl Lily, or whatever."

"I'll do what I can, Dean."

Dean swallowed. "You better." Then he hung up.

"Are you sure about this?"

Believing he had been alone, Dean was only half surprised to see Sam sat up on the next bed, concern etched into his face. "About what?"

"About Adam."

Sighing, he tossed the phone back onto the table, rubbing a hand over his tired face. "Sam, I don't know what to believe right now, but if Cas thinks it's legit, then… well, I'd say there's a good chance it is. He wants to make amends, after all."

"By taking a look at me, huh?"

Dean gave him a serious look. "We are not discussing this."

His brother rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, Dean –"

"No you are not 'fine', Sam," he cut in. "And don't lie to me, I'm trying to help here."

"You don't need to look after me," Sam insisted. "We have more important things now – Adam's alive again, for all we know, he could be –"

"Traumatised?" Dean finished. "Yeah, he could be, but the strange thing is he sounded perfectly fine on the phone, and I wanna know why he's hunky dory after spending a hell of a lot more time down there while you're sitting on the edge of insanity!"

Raking his fingers through his hair, Sam shook his head. "What do you want me to say, Dean?" he asked quietly. "I can't explain this anymore than you can."

"I want you to tell me if you feel anything, see anything, hear anything you shouldn't. Understand?" Dean climbed out of bed, flipping on the light and putting on his shoes. "And I want you to get packed. We're leaving."

"You mean we're actually gonna go and meet up with him?"

"Yeah. Kid needs our help, and he's family. Whether he likes it or not."