MICHAEL
Michael has never been more disconcerted than he is when he wakes up for the first time in his immeasurably long life. At first he doesn't know what's happening; his eyes are closed when his consciousness returns, but the thing is, he doesn't remember closing them. In fact, he can't remember what happened at all for the past. . . how long? He doesn't even know when he is.
There's a familiar body pressed up against hm, slightly larger than his own, and that keeps him from panicking. He opens his eyes but at first all he can see is darkness. Then he realizes that he's looking at Adam's hair; the human has his head resting on Michael's arm and they must have shifted in their sleep so that Michael's face was buried in his hair.
Sleep. What a ridiculous concept. Angels don't need sleep, not like humans do. Michael briefly wonders if he maybe Adam convinced him to sleep with him, but he quickly dismisses that idea. No matter how long they've been in the Cage together and no matter how intimate they got (beyond intimate; Michael and Lucifer bared parts of themselves they barely even knew existed) there's no way Michael would have agreed to something so human.
Careful not to jolt Adam too much, Michael lifts his head and looks around. He freezes, eyes wide and breath hitching in his lungs. Since when do I need to breathe? some little voice in the back of his head asks him, but he ignores it completely in favor of the realization that he's no longer in the Cage.
He doesn't care as much about where he is as he does that this place isn't in Hell. For the first time in hundreds of years, he can feel Heaven again, feel the warmth and the light and the power that he took for granted for most of his life. It's faint, nearly nonexistent, but it's there. His heart speeds up, another novel quirk of his human vessel that he's bemused by. From what he knows about humans, he figures it's from excitement, which he knows to be anticipation with the extra additive of hyperactivity on the side.
He should have figured it out sooner; now that he's paying attention, he's aware of the soft ground underneath him, the chill of his damp clothes, the sounds of crickets and cicadas and a soft breeze whistling its way through gravestones. The moon is high in the sky, and nearly full. Michael looks up at it and remembers its creation. He'd been confused then, wondering why a moon was necessary, but as of now it's the most beautiful thing he's ever laid eyes on.
Adam doesn't wake when Michael slowly stands up, easing his head onto Lucifer's arm. Michael stares down at them. In the Cage, they'd spent more time touching than not, once they got over that initial awkwardness and stubbornness, but he'd usually been participating in the touching, and so rarely had an opportunity to view it.
He has to admit, it's… maybe aesthetically pleasing is the phrase he's looking for. Lucifer's arm draped over Adam's waist, Adam's leg bent so that his calf is between Lucifer's legs. It reminds Michael of two puzzle pieces fitting together. Maybe not two puzzle pieces that were supposed to go together, but two pieces who were shoved into place nonetheless.
A human would probably be stiff after so long spent in one position on the cold ground, but Michael's not exactly human. He can feel his muscles contracting and moving underneath his skin as he stands and stretches (a habit he picked up from Adam, who would take a nap every few decades just to pass the time). He's aware of his body in a way he's never been before. It used to be just another vessel; now, it's him. He can feel his heart beating, his lungs expanding when he breathes, his eyelashes brushing his cheeks when he blinks. It's enchanting.
The moon is nearly at the horizon, and on the other side of the sky, the clouds are turning a deep pink-orange. It's almost sunrise. If they are where he thinks they are, it'll get much warmer once the sun is fully risen. He can't wait; he's never going to take warmth for granted again.
Adam is shivering slightly on the ground, which strikes Michael as ironic. Four hundred years of Adam's inherent human warmth keeping them from freezing, and now the human's cold because of morning dew. If Lucifer were awake, he'd probably mention something about the fragility of humans and then push Adam into Michael to keep him warm. Or something. Michael can't say for sure that he knows exactly what Lucifer would do.
"Billions of years spent together," Michael says softly. "Billions of years of incomprehensible love, all undermined by a few thousand years of disagreement." He sighs and crouches next to Lucifer. His body itches to reach out and run a hand through Lucifer's hair, but it's too short. He settles for gently stroking Lucifer's cheek with the back of his hand, smiling when Lucifer tilts his head into the contact. There's no way he would have allowed this if he were awake.
Michael stands and looks around. The sky is a little lighter than it was a few minutes ago; the sun's going to be up soon, which means that the cemetery may not be empty of people for much longer. He needs to figure out what's going on, but in order to do that, he needs to wake up the other two so they can leave.
He's not really sure how to do that, so he ends up kneeling over Adam until he wakes. The human takes one look at the angel towering above him and jerks back with a strangled gasp.
"Christ, don't do that," he hisses, holding one hand to his chest. "You scared the shit out of me."
One thing Michael noticed, back when they were in the Cage, is that Adam is very cranky after waking up. He's not sure why.
"Your pants are still clean," Michael points out. "And we're out of the Cage."
Adam looks at him strangely. "I thought that was a dream," he murmurs, and then louder, he says, "You don't seem excited about being free."
"I don't know how I feel," he says. "Emotions are strange." This answer seems to satisfy Adam.
"Whatever," he says. "Let's grab Lucifer and get out of here before something decides to come eat us."
"How?" Michael asks.
"Walk until we find a road," Adam says, pulling himself to his feet and squinting into the sunrise. "Maybe hitchhike, if we can find someone who'll take us and doesn't look like a serial killer."
"That's not what I meant," Michael says. "How do we wake Lucifer?"
Adam gives him a blank look. Michael gazes back steadily.
"Angels," Adam says, shaking his head. "You're all so weird. Look, why don't you try and find a way out of this cemetery while I wake up Lucifer, and then we'll head out."
"Okay," Michael says, and starts walking. He vaguely remembers the layout of the cemetery from the last time he was here; before facing down Lucifer-in-Sam's-body, he'd taken a few moments to memorize the exact placement of every single stone, weed, gravestone, and dip in the ground. It doesn't take long for him to find the exit. When he turns back to look at Adam and Lucifer, they're nothing more than blurry figures in the distance, concealed just a bit by an anemic tree that's barely holding on to life.
By the time he returns, Lucifer is awake and irritated. Not at any one specific thing, but just in general, the way that Adam is whenever he wakes up. Then again, irritated is Lucifer's default emotion.
"Is this an illusion?" Lucifer demands once Michael's close enough.
"No," Michael says. "We're out."
"Yeah, your father told me that when he came by here last night," Adam adds. "God's an asshole, by the way."
Michael and Lucifer stare at him. He gazes back, nonplussed. Back when they first got to the Cage, Adam was scared of them. The cuddling probably didn't help Michael and Lucifer keep their intimidating image.
"So this is an illusion, right?" Lucifer says, turning to Michael. "There's no way we're out."
"We are," Michael says again. "Who would be behind this, if it was an illusion?"
"I don't know, but those Winchesters know some powerful people," Lucifer says. "And they probably have a grudge against us."
Adam snorts. "'Probably'," he repeats. "They definitely have a grudge against you."
Neither Lucifer nor Michael miss that Adam excluded himself from that statement. It takes Adam a moment to realize that they noticed, and once he does he purses his lips and turns away from them.
"You found the exit?" he asks.
"There's a road about half a mile that way," Michael says, pointing to where he'd found the exit. "I didn't see any cars."
"Well, the first part of the plan was walking until we can hitch a ride," Adam reminds them. "So let's start walking."
Neither Michael nor Lucifer follows him when he sets off. They look at each other with stony faces and prepare to leave.
"The Apocalypse is written," Michael says. "It's only been postponed for now."
"We'll see each other again," Lucifer agrees. "There will be more vessels, and another battlefield."
With those as their parting words, they fly off in different directions. Or at least, they attempt to. Michael's eyes widen when he remains in place, while Lucifer's narrow. He can spread his wings but he can't fly; it feels like something's holding his wings in place whenever he tries.
"Lucifer," Michael says quietly.
"Shut up," Lucifer hisses. He growls in frustration and clenches his hands into fists. A moment later, he lifts his head and looks calculatingly at Adam. Michael blinks, and Lucifer's gone, standing all of a sudden behind the human. When Michael tries to fly over to them, he's surprised to find that he can. He falls into step with Lucifer and they exchange angry, embarrassed glances, a mutual agreement to keep this to themselves.
Of course, that agreement is broken almost immediately when Adam says, "Big Guy Upstairs not let you leave, huh?" He looks back at them and snorts at their shocked faces. "Oh, please. After four hundred years, I know you well enough to know that you'd try to leave as soon as you could. There's no way you'd stay with me unless you had to."
"I will rip out your throat again," Lucifer warns.
"No, you won't," Adam says confidently. "You guys don't know enough about life as humans to survive on your own."
"We're not human," Michael says.
"You might as well be," is Adam's disconcerting reply.
The sun is high in the sky and already past its zenith by the time someone decides to stop and pick them up. They've been walking along the road for most of the day without rest, and they're all struggling. Adam's clearly exhausted, shuffling along with his head bowed and his chest heaving, but Lucifer and Michael aren't much better. It seems that Adam was correct when he said that they might as well be human now; they have their power, but it's at a much lower level than they're used to.
A few cars have gone by already, and Michael glared at each of them as they drove on without stopping. He's so used to being ignored by the drivers that he's unprepared for the truck that actually stops to pick them up. They all hear it coming from behind them; Lucifer doesn't look up, but Michael watches as Adam turns and sticks out a thumb despite his lack of hope that they'll actually get a ride.
To everyone's surprise, the truck pulls up next to them and stops. It's an old black thing that Michael's human subconscious calls a pickup truck, a little dusty and beat up but also clearly loved. The passenger window rolls down to reveal an older woman with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth and a pair of dark black sunglasses over her eyes.
"You boys headin' somewhere in particular?" she asks.
"No," Adam says gratefully. "We're just heading to the nearest town." The woman gives him a strange look, which makes Adam frown. "Is that a problem?"
"Is 'town' the only thing you know how to say in English?" she asks. Lucifer slaps a palm to his forehead and groans.
"You're talking in Enochian," he says. In English. Adam flushes.
"Oh," he says. This time he speaks in English, but he appears to be choosing his words carefully, as if he's having trouble remembering them. "Please take us to the nearest town."
"Sure thing. Hop in, hun," the woman says. Adam opens the back door of the truck and then looks meaningfully at Michael. It takes him a while to understand that he's meant to enter first. Lucifer gets in last and slams the door shut a bit harder than strictly necessary, but the woman doesn't say anything.
"Thank you for this," Adam says. "We've been walking for hours now."
"Hard to catch a ride 'round these parts," is the sympathetic answer. "Name's Imogene. No one calls me that but my husband, though. Genie's fine."
"It's a pleasure to meet you ma'am. I'm Adam, and this is Michael and Luc- um, Luke," Adam says. Michael notices that his English sounds more natural now, coming back with an ease that outs it as his first language despite the hundred or so years he spent speaking only in Enochian. Genie must notice it, too.
"Your accent's very American," she says. "Where'd you learn to speak English?"
"I was actually born in America," Adam says. "I've just been abroad for the past few years and only spoke the native language."
"Sure is the strangest language I've ever heard. Where's it from?"
Adam shoots Michael a wide-eyed look and blurts out, "Europe." Lucifer coughs into his fist, and Michael realizes a moment later that he's laughing. He sighs heavily out of his nose and rests his head against the window. It vibrates unpleasantly and jolts painfully every time they go over a pothole, but it helps block out Adam's conversation. If it's just going to be full of human nuances that only Michael doesn't understand, he'd rather spend his time marking their progress, anyway.
Closing his eyes disorients him, especially with the uneven motions of the car, so he keeps them open and on the landscape as they fly down the road. Imogene—Genie—drives almost recklessly, often times veering into the left lane or taking her eyes off the road to look at Adam in the rearview mirror as they talk, and at one point even letting go of the wheel completely in order to rummage around in the bag sitting in the passenger's seat.
Adam, for his part, seems to be regretting his decision to sit in between Michael and Lucifer, both of whom are able to brace themselves against the sides of the car every time it jolts. The middle seat doesn't even have a seat belt, not that anyone who has one is even using it. In the absence of a window or a handle to grab, Adam's bracing one hand against the back of the passenger seat and griping Michael's leg tightly with the other. It's unpleasant, so Michael pries his fingers loose and simply holds his hand instead. In the reflection in his window, he sees both Adam and Lucifer look at him curiously. Lucifer looks away as soon as their eyes meet in the glass, and Michael goes back to watching scraggly trees pass by.
They pass right through Stull, a tiny, insignificant town, and head into another that's marginally less tiny but still just as insignificant. Adam requests to be let out in front of a small, locally-owned diner and Genie bids them good luck as they pile out of her car. She also fishes something out of her bag that she tries to give to Adam, but he refuses vehemently. Michael has to wait for both Lucifer and Adam to exit before he can, since his door is facing out towards traffic, and while both of their backs are turned Genie shoves the something into his hand and winks at him.
"Take care a your boys, ya hear?" she says before unceremoniously kicking him out and peeling away as soon as the door is closed. Michael opens his hand and wrinkles his nose at the two crumpled bills he finds there. He shoves his hand towards Adam.
"Here," he says. "Genie gave these to me but I have no use for them."
"What is it?" Adam asks, even as he opens his hand underneath Michael's.
"American currency," Michael says, distaste coloring his tone. Lucifer peers over Adam's shoulder at the bills.
"She only gave us forty bucks?" he says. Adam elbows him in the ribs, despite knowing that Lucifer won't even flinch.
"That's a lot considering we're just some hitchhikers she picked up," Adam says. "You know, most Americans won't even give a dollar to a homeless person they find on the streets. This is extremely generous."
"It's sad that ignoring the suffering of your own kind is the norm on earth," Michael says. Adam rolls his eyes.
"Come on," he sighs, turning towards the diner. "I'm starving. The lunch rush should be over by now."
"I'd be surprised if this place had more than three separate parties, much less a lunch rush," Lucifer says, holding the door open for Adam and Michael. "Would it kill this town to get a McDonald's?"
"You know, it actually might," Adam replies, and Lucifer snorts. The sign hanging near the door tells them to seat themselves, so they choose a booth close to the back. Michael and Lucifer both sit in the side facing the door, neither trusting the other to keep watch. Adam doesn't notice, too busy looking over the menu.
"Do you guys need to eat, now that you're basically human?" he asks without looking up at them. Michael and Lucifer look at each other. Lucifer shrugs.
"I don't think so," he says, sounding unsure.
"How would we know if we do?" Michael asks. Adam gives him the same look from the cemetery, when Michael was unsure of how to wake Lucifer up. Michael's starting to recognize it as Adam's why-are-you-so-ignorant-of-everyday-human-things look.
"Well, your stomach would hurt," Adam says. "Or you might feel lightheaded or more irritable than normal."
"Funny, I feel those things every time I look at your face," Lucifer says innocently. Adam throws a spoon at him, and Lucifer sticks out his tongue, forked like a snake's. Michael rubs at his temples and wonders if he can go back to the Cage.
Luckily, the waitress chooses that moment to come over. Michael kicks Lucifer under the table and the snake tongue disappears before the girl can see it.
"Welcome to Ma's," she says brightly as she pours them three glasses of water. "What can I getcha?"
"Peach iced tea and a double cheeseburger with fries for me," Adam says, then looks at Michael and Lucifer expectantly. Lucifer smiles charmingly at the waitress, whose smile becomes a little strained.
"I'll have a pulled pork sandwich and a coffee, black," Lucifer says. The waitress jots that down on a little notepad, then turns to Michael.
"Anything for you, sir?" she asks.
"Just fries and a chocolate shake," he says. The girl smiles brightly at them and promises to be back soon with the food. Adam turns immediately to Michael with an unreadable look on his face.
"Fries and a chocolate shake?" he says coldly. Michael shrugs.
"It was the first thing I thought of," he says. Lucifer looks in between them.
"I'm missing something," he says.
"Yes, you are," Adam agrees, and turns to look out the window. Lucifer raises an eyebrow at Michael.
"It's something Adam used to eat when he was a child," Michael explains, toying idly with the straw in his glass. "When he was my vessel, I picked up on it."
"Any other habits of mine you're planning on adopting?" Adam asks venomously. Michael doesn't dignify that with a response, and instead takes a sip of his water. It feels surprisingly pleasant against his throat, which he didn't realize was parched until now.
The three of them sit in awkward silence after that. Still, despite the chilly atmosphere, Lucifer's leg is pressed against Lucifer's from the knee down, and both of them have tangled their other feet with Adam's under the table. After centuries of being so physically intimate with each other in the Cage, it seems unthinkable that they'd not touch, even in the middle of an argument.
By the time the waitress returns, Adam's finished all of his water and has moved on to Lucifer's. If she notices, she doesn't say anything, but she does take the glasses and bring them back filled nearly to the brim with more water. Then she disappears into the kitchen, leaving them alone with the only other occupants of the diner, an elderly couple who keep shooting judgemental glances at them.
"Eat fast," Adam says. "We need to get a move on."
He drains half his iced tea with a few long pulls through his straw, then sets to work on his burger. Lucifer follows his lead and digs into his sandwich, and Michael gingerly eats a fry and watches them in fascinated disgust. That's quickly forgotten once he actually tastes the fry, though, and then all his attention is on savoring the strangely pleasing flavor of oil-soaked potatoes. He does dip one in the chocolate shake just to see how it tastes, but he quickly decides that he likes them better by themselves.
He's finished before Lucifer and Adam are, so he sips at his milkshake and tries to figure out how best to steal some of their fries. He startles when Adam uses a knife to cut a small piece of his burger off and hands it to him.
"Here, try this," he says. Michael is surprised enough that he does so without thought. The burger was an enormous mess of meat, sauce, and vegetables, but luckily Michael's piece is relatively small and neat. He puts the whole thing into his mouth and only gets a little sauce on his lip, which he licks off with the tip of his tongue as soon as he swallows.
"It's really good," Michael says, sounding surprised even to his own ears.
"You think that's good, just wait til you try this," Lucifer says, and uses his fork to stab a piece of pulled pork, which he then shoves unceremoniously into Michael's mouth. It's actually delicious.
"I like the burger better," Michael says, just to be annoying. He grins when Lucifer scowls.
"Alright, that's enough," Adam says. "Lucifer, finish your food. Michael, here, drink this. I don't want the rest."
Michael blinks down at the half-drunk glass of iced tea in his hands, then takes a sip. It's a little too syrupy for his tastes, but it's pretty good otherwise. He's never tasted peach before. He's eaten food, of course; when hiding among the humans sometimes it's necessary to eat and bathe and do as the humans do in order to keep his cover. Still, the taste of a peach's individual molecules can't compare at all, even to a from-concentrate syrup version of the real thing.
Once they finish eating, Adam goes up to the counter to pay their bill. He comes back a few moments later with a newspaper clutched in his hands, and he doesn't even look at them as he slides back into his seat.
"Adam?" Michael says, noticing the far-away look on the human's face.
"It's 2014," Adam says quietly. "It's been almost exactly four years since we fell into the Cage." Lucifer and Michael exchange looks. Four years is literally nothing to them. Michael once spent four years grooming his wings. But for a human, four years is a whole fraction of their lives.
"At least you haven't aged," Michael says. "Your lifespan won't be affected by this."
Adam sneers. "Oh, that makes me feel so much better, Mikey, thanks," he says. Michael is taken aback, both at the angry tone and the nickname that's only ever used when Adam's genuinely upset with him. He looks to Lucifer, who's watching Adam with a carefully blank look on his face.
Michael's not going to get any help there, so he turns back to Adam and says, "I don't see what the problem is."
"Of course you don't," Adam scoffs. His eyes look glassy and unnaturally bright all of a sudden. "You're an angel. You have no concept of time." He unclenches his fists and gingerly smooths out the rumpled paper on the tabletop. His voice goes soft. "God, I don't even know which iPhone is the most recent."
Michael doesn't know what cell phones have to do with anything. He contemplates saying as much, but decides that it's better if he doesn't, since in this mood Adam's likely to figuratively explode at the slightest provocation. Instead, he shoves one hand into the pocket of his coat and uses the other to take another sip of his tea.
Lucifer frowns lightly at him, then at Adam. "Jeez, you two are such drama queens," he says. Adam and Michael glare at him, but he only smiles. "I mean it. Look at you two! Adam's throwing himself a one-man pity party because he's been in the holy hot box for four years, and Michael's over here acting like a teenage girl crying on her first period because her boyfriend hurt her feelings. Can you get any more pathetic?"
He slams his hands on the table and stands up. It doesn't work out too well, seeing as they're in a booth, but he doesn't let that deter him.
"You know what I say we do?" he says, looking intently at each of them in turn. "I say we man the fuck up and figure out what the hell we're supposed to do now. We're lost in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere with literally twelve dollars and a shit ton of daddy issues to our names. We have more important things to worry about than your insignificant little problems."
Adam sniffs and rubs at his eyes angrily. "You fucking bastard," he growls. "You're right. God. I hate you." Lucifer winks at him. "Ugh. Come on, let's go find a payphone or something."
"Who are we going to call?" Michael asks, following Adam out. His neck prickles and he just knows Lucifer is staring at him, trying to make him uncomfortable, but he doesn't give his brother the satisfaction of turning around.
"Sam and Dean," Adam says. "They're the only ones who I can think of to call in a situation like this."
Lucifer moves almost too fast for Michael to react. He darts towards Adam, and a lifetime spent honing battle instincts has Michael grabbing the collar of his shirt and one of his arms as as he brushes by. Before anyone knows what's happening, Michael has Lucifer pinned on the sidewalk outside the diner, one of his arms twisted behind his back so that he hisses in pain.
"What are you doing?" Lucifer spits.
"What are you doing?" Michael counters.
"What are both of you doing?" Adam demands. "You know, part of blending in is not drawing attention to ourselves. This definitely draws attention."
"Whose attention? This town's entire population was back in that diner," Lucifer says. He tries to get up but falls back down with a yelp when Michael's grip only tightens. "Ow, fuck, enough!"
"Michael, let him up." Adam sounds exasperated. He rubs at his temples and looks at Michael with exhausted, red-rimmed eyes. Michael lets Lucifer up.
"So rude," Lucifer says, straightening his shirt and glaring at Michael out of the corner of his eye. There's an undercurrent of mockery to his words, and Michael sighs, not even surprised that Lucifer can't take anything seriously. "I was just going to tell Adam that calling the Winchesters is a bad idea."
"Why?" Adam asks, leading them down the sidewalk. There's a bank right next to the diner, and on the other side of the bank is a tiny movie theater. In between wondering whether everything a town needs is situated on this street and slapping Lucifer's hand away from his hair, Michael notices a payphone on the wall outside the theater.
"Because I believe you have a right to know my opinions. They're usually right, after all," Lucifer says. Adam sighs.
"I meant why is it a bad idea to call the Winchesters, Lucifer," he says.
"Oh."
"There are many reasons why that's a bad idea," Michael says. "They change their phone numbers religiously, for one thing. For another, phone calls can be listened to and tracked, and if we want to 'blend in' we shouldn't relay sensitive information over phone."
"Um, is everyone forgetting the fact that they tossed us into Hell and left us there for four years?" Lucifer says. "I can understand them leaving me and Michael down there, but you're their brother. What makes you think they're going to help you now if they didn't before?"
There is a sadistic gleam in his eyes that betrays how much he enjoys this. Adam definitely notices, but he doesn't say anything for a long while. Eventually, he steps away from the phone.
"Half brother," he says.
They walk again. This time they are better prepared, though. With the money they had left, they stopped at a tiny convenience store and managed to buy three bottles of Gatorade, a box of granola bars, and a pack of beef jerky, which Adam claims is good food for hikers. Of course, seeing as Lucifer and Michael don't need to eat (they think), all the food is for Adam. He still makes them help him carry it, and Michael spends most of the rest of the day making sure Lucifer doesn't eat all the food out of spite.
By the time the sun goes down, they've walked what Michael estimates to be ten miles and they're no closer to hitching a ride than they were before. Adam doesn't admit defeat until it gets so dark that they can't see, at which point he sits down on a rock and slowly sips at one of the Gatorade bottles.
"The likelihood of us being picked up by a serial killer just increased by, like, eight percent," Lucifer says.
"Only eight?" Michael questions. Lucifer shrugs.
"I was going to say eighty but it's not like anyone's even picking us up, so."
Adam sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "Any suggestions?" he asks.
"Wow, you're actually letting us help with the decisions now?" Lucifer says with fake cheer. Adam flips him off. Michael ignores their bickering and looks at the road. He can barely see it; it's only a smudge on the ground, slightly darker than what surrounds it. Way, way off in the distance, he sees a pair of headlights.
He looks at Lucifer and Adam. They're full on arguing now, about something stupid that probably doesn't even matter, and normally he'd break them apart, but. Well. Normally they're locked in a Cage in Hell, and that kind of proximity doesn't allow for anything less than a complete lack of animosity. It's easy to yell at a dark blur in the middle of Kansas at night. It might help them release their frustration.
The headlights are getting closer now, and Michael can make out the shape of a car. Not a truck like Genie's, but a large van. It slows when Michael flags it down, sticking out his thumb like Adam did. He walks to the driver's side and finds himself looking at a middle-aged couple, married judging by their clasped hands. They have kind, open faces and trusting eyes.
"You need a ride somewhere?" the driver asks, and Michael gives them a tight smile.
"Yes," he says. "My… friends and I have been walking for a while and we don't really want to spend the night out in the open."
"Poor dears," the woman in the passenger seat sighs. "Well, we're planning on driving a few more hours and finding a motel somewhere. I don't know where you've been or where you're going, but you're welcome to join us."
"Thank you," Michael says, relieved. He looks over his shoulder. In the light from the car, he can see Adam and Lucifer watching him with wide eyes. He beckons them over, then opens the backdoor of the car and climbs in. The van isn't the most spacious, but it has three rows of plush seats, and it's not like they have any other options lined up. Michael knows that's the only reason Lucifer doesn't complain. Well, that and the warning glare Adam shoots him as they pile in.
Michael ends up sitting in the middle of the very back row, this time, with Adam on one side and Lucifer on the other. They both immediately turn to gaze out the window as the car starts to move, leaving Michael to make small talk with the couple in the front seat. He tries to remember what Adam said when Genie picked them up.
"We really appreciate this," he says.
"Oh, it's no problem at all," the driver says. "So long as you aren't serial killers or nothing." They laugh, and Michael cracks a smile even though he has no idea why that's funny.
"I'm Judith, by the way," the woman says. "And this is Gale."
"Michael, and that's Adam and Lucifer."
"Lucifer?" Gale asks, quirking an eyebrow at him in the rearview mirror, which Michael notices has a crucifix hanging on it.
"It's just a nickname," Adam interjects with an awkward laugh. "Because Luke here can be such a little devil sometimes." Gale and Judith exchange looks.
"Little?" Lucifer says, offended.
"Oh," Gale says.
A sudden air of awkwardness descends over the car. Michael ignores it and slouches in his seat until he's comfortable. It's a little weird, being pressed up against Lucifer. His left arm burns with the contact, even through layers of clothing, in a way that didn't happen with Adam except for that first time, when he lost the bet with Lucifer. The two angels never really touched each other, since it didn't offer them any comfort. At least with Adam they got some warmth out of it.
If Lucifer's as uncomfortable as Michael is, he doesn't show it. He plants his elbow on his thigh and his chin in his hand, and his eyes close only a few minutes into the drive, though Michael knows he's not sleeping. Adam's position is similar, except he actually does fall asleep. The van goes over a pothole that jolts everyone inside, and Adam's head ends up on Michael's shoulder. He smells like sweat and dirt and greasy diner food, but the weight against Michael's arm is a familiar one that helps take his mind off of the feeling of Lucifer pressed up against his side.
An hour or two into the drive, Gale pulls onto the side of the road so they and Judith can switch places. When she pulls back onto the road, she puts on a CD and turns the volume down low, so that the faint sound of classical music provides ambience instead of something to focus on. She catches Michael's eye in the mirror and winks.
"Driver gets to pick the music," she explains. "Gale's not particularly fond of being distracted while driving."
"It's dangerous, woman," comes a grumble from the passenger seat. In another half hour, Gale's asleep, too. Michael feels incredibly alone, all of a sudden. Not lonely, because he's far too used to this feeling to be bothered by it, but he can't help but envy Gale and Judith's easy camaraderie. Michael used to have that closeness, but it was so long ago he hardly remembers it.
At his side, Lucifer shifts until his head is on Michael's shoulder, too. He opens his eyes just long enough to glare, as if daring Michael to say anything, and then he closes them again and lets out a sigh through his nose. Slowly, when time passes and nothing happens, Michael's shoulders relax, and he tentatively rests his head on top of Adam's. Incredibly uncomfortable, but better than sitting up for however long they have left until they reach their destination.
There aren't any streetlights along the road, but the moonlight and the van's headlights provide more than enough light to see the road by. Judith quietly hums along with the CD, and replays it when it runs through all of its tracks. She looks at Michael as if checking to see if he'll object, but he gives her reflection a small smile instead of a complaint. She smiles back.
"Can't sleep?" she asks softly.
"No," Michael says truthfully. "I'm just…." He doesn't know how to explain how he's feeling. His chest feels tight, his throat itches, and he wants nothing more than to go to sleep and wake up back in the Cage. He can't say any of that out loud, not only because Judith won't understand but also because he doesn't want to start an argument with Lucifer. And he doesn't really understand it himself. Back to the Cage? Really?
"Sweetie," Judith says, and Michael's eyes immediately flick to hers. No one's ever called him anything like that before. "Why are y'all out here? Where are you trying to go?"
Michael's eyes lower as he thinks. "We're not… trying to go anywhere," he says slowly. "We're trying to get away from something, I think."
Judith sighs. "You boys don't have but a dollar to your names, do you?" Michael remembers what Lucifer said in the diner, and a wry smile twists his lips.
"We don't even have a dollar," he says. He looks down at Lucifer, silently wondering why he hasn't interrupted the conversation to add some unhelpful comment like he usually does.
"What happened to you?" Judith asks. Then she seems to catch herself, and she clears her throat and looks away from the mirror. "That is, if you don't mind my asking."
"I do mind," Michael says coolly.
"I'm sorry, honey. I shouldn't pry," she says, and doesn't talk again after that.
The digital clock on the dashboard reads just after midnight by the time they pull into the parking lot of a small motel. Michael watches Judith gently shake Gale awake, then does the same to Adam. While he's busy blinking sleep out of his eyes, Michael turns to Lucifer.
"Lucifer, get off," he says, and frowns when there's no response. He shakes Lucifer, too, just to see if it works, and is surprised when it does. Lucifer blinks open his eyes and looks at Michael in confusion, then jolts upright. "You were actually asleep?" Michael says bemusedly, and Lucifer glares at him.
"Shut up," he hisses. He appears to be too tired to muster up his usual quick-witted responses, which Michael appreciates. The three of them (well, Adam) thank Judith and Gale for the ride, then gather their meager supplies and head into the lobby. They get the room at the far end of the motel, and by the time they get there Lucifer is looking more awake while Adam looks like he wants nothing more than to go back to sleep.
Michael makes him at least drink some Gatorade and eat two of the granola bars before he collapses into one of the beds, and then it's just him and Lucifer. Truthfully, following Adam into sleep is what Michael wants more than anything right now, but there's no way he would leave Lucifer as the last line of defense between them and whatever might know they're back. Lucifer might even be as big a threat as anything else is right now.
Sighing heavily, Michael sits on the edge of the other bed and closes his eyes. He listens to Adam's slow, even breathing, and the louder, more obtrusive sounds of Lucifer poking around in the bathroom.
"They can't actually be calling this Port-A-Potty stall a shower," Lucifer says, sounds downright scandalized. Michael doesn't respond, too busy trying to rein in the discomfort he's feeling. By the time Lucifer comes out of the bathroom, Michael feels a bit better, but he's still in no mood to interact with his brother.
Of course, Lucifer decides that now's the best time to start up a conversation, because he delights in causing others pain. There's a self-satisfied smirk on his face that Michael wants to rip off. Literally.
"On a scale of 'I'm surprisingly okay' to 'Please pitch me into the void', how do you feel about today's events?" Lucifer asks, miming holding a microphone in front of his face like he's a reporter. Michael glares half-heartedly at him and doesn't respond in a futile attempt to get his brother to shut up. "Ooh, so intimidating. You're about as scary as a baby, Michael, has anyone ever told you that?"
Michael growls and can't help responding, even though he knows he's allowing himself to be pulled into an argument. "If I recall correctly, I was the only one in Heaven besides Father who you were afraid of."
"Yeah, 'cause I was a sheltered brat," Lucifer scoffs. Then he grins with a literal mouthful of fangs, the expression contorting his face grotesquely. His eyes gleam unnaturally bright in the low light, and his voice is deep and distorted when he asks, "I've known true terror since then. Would you like me to show you?"
Despite himself, Michael shivers. Lucifer blinks and his grin is replaced by a normal sized shit-eating one.
"You're so easy," he says. Michael squeezes his eyes shut and rubs at them with the heels of his hands.
"Lucifer, enough," he says angrily. "I'm not in the mood."
"Oh, I can put you in the mood," Lucifer hisses. He has a lisp, as if there's something blocking part of his mouth, but Michael doesn't drop his hands to see what it could be. The tight feeling in his chest is back, and he takes a deep breath to try and dispel it. It shakes when he exhales.
And just like that, the mood changes. Michael can practically feel the tension in the air snap but he still doesn't drop his hands. He pulls his legs up onto the bed and rests his forehead on his bent knees, effectively trapping his hands in between his face and his thighs.
"Michael?" Lucifer says. Michael doesn't respond, and he hears a slight rustle as Lucifer moves. His voice is closer and his voice softer when he says, "Michael, what are you doing?"
A hand tentatively settles on his shoulder, only to fall away when Michael stiffens. He finally looks up and finds Lucifer looking down at him with confusion in his eyes.
"I don't trust you," Michael says. "And I know you don't trust me, but I won't let anything happen to you if you fall asleep again."
Lucifer's face hardens at that, but his voice is still soft when he says, "I'll do the same for you, if you want."
He can't really trust that, but Michael appreciates the attempt, even if it is a lie.
In the end, he doesn't fall asleep. Neither of them were expecting him to. Lucifer leaves the room at one point, and Michael doesn't really care about what happens to him but he can't help but watch the door vigilantly until he returns, two bottles of water and three bags of chips in his hands. Michael doesn't ask where he got them from.
Lucifer sits on the floor underneath the window and watches Michael unblinkingly for most of the night. Michael closes his eyes, folds his arms atop his bent knees, and rests his head on them. He can feel Lucifer's gaze on him but he doesn't react other than to tense whenever the other shifts. Adam, still dead to the world, doesn't react at all.
Sometime around four in the morning, Michael becomes aware that it's no longer just the three of them in the hotel room. He jerks his head up and his eyes land instantly on a man leaning casually against the door, eating an apple and watching Michael with an unreadable expression. Michael is on his feet instantly, more alert than he's been since he found himself in a cemetery in the middle of Kansas.
"Who are you? How did you get in here?" he demands. His angel blade manifests in his sleeve and slides into his hand, and its familiar weight is like a balm on his frayed nerves.
"Michael, you really need to relax," the stranger says. "You actually need to worry about things like blood pressure now, so I wouldn't go around raising mine, if I were you."
"And who are you?" Michael repeats, pointing his blade threateningly at the other. He wonders why Lucifer isn't reacting at all to the scene, even though his eyes are still focused on Michael.
"You know me," the stranger says. "Am I that unfamiliar to you? I haven't been gone that long."
Michael stares hard at him. His blade makes a dull thunk! when it hits the ground.
"Father?" he says faintly. The stranger—God—smiles.
"Took you long enough," he says. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me." If he opens his mouth, nothing's going to come out except for confused stutters, so Michael opts for staying silent. His Father's mouth twists ruefully. "These aren't the best conditions for a reconciliation, I know."
"Father," Michael says, ignoring how odd the word feels in his mouth, "what is going on? Why are we out of the Cage? Where has our power gone?"
"Easy, Michael," God says, holding up a hand placatingly. "Look, I know you have a lot of questions, but I can't answer all of them. At least, not yet. I need you to trust that I know what I'm doing, alright?"
Something hot and painful twists in Michael's stomach, but he nods once. He picks up his fallen blade and slides it back into his sleeve, and then into the pocket dimension where he stores it.
"I know this is kind of a lot to throw at you all at once," God continues. "You seem to be holding up well, though."
"I don't know what's going on," Michael admits. "Father, what would you have me do?"
God smiles. "I wouldn't have you do anything you don't deem appropriate. Look, there's an end goal here, but you have other things to focus on now."
"Father-"
"No, Michael, listen to me." Michael's mouth shuts immediately, but he has to bite his own lip to prevent himself from speaking again. "You and Lucifer aren't human, but you're pretty damn close. That isn't my doing; it took everything I had just to get you what little power you have. You guys need to take better care of yourselves now. Those bodies aren't vessels anymore; they're you. There's no one else in there, and if that body dies, so do you."
"How is that different from being human?" Michael asks.
"Well, you can still fly short distances and access most of your abilities, albeit in limited capacity. And, of course, it'll take a lot more to kill you than it would a human." God looks thoughtfully at His apple core. "I'll admit, I wasn't really thinking ahead when I pulled you three back to earth. I was more worried about… well, you'll find out eventually. But I must apologize for everything so far. Hitchhiking isn't really what I would've chosen for you. I've made arrangements for you three, though."
He pulls a folded envelope out of His pocket and hands it to Michael. There's an address written down on it in messy, barely legible handwriting. Michael looks up, but God is gone. The only thing that remains is a single, uneaten apple on the floor. Lucifer is still looking at him but not responding as he picks it up, then sets it on the bed. The envelope, when he opens it, is stuffed full of papers and money and God knows what else, much more than could normally fit in an envelope of this size.
Michael is unbelievably tired all of a sudden. He shoves the envelope under his pillow and resumes his earlier position on the bed. Instead of resting his head on his arms, though, he picks up the apple and tentatively takes a bite. It's crisp and juicy and sweet, and as soon as the flavor hits his tongue Michael feels phantom fingers gently ghosting through his hair. He closes his eyes to fully enjoy the sensation, and when he opens them Lucifer is actually focused on him again.
"Where did you get an apple?" Lucifer asks. Michael doesn't reply, and briefly considers letting him have a bite. In the end, he eats the whole thing, and doesn't say a word until the sun comes up.