fic: Just Two Lost Souls
Title: Just Two Lost Souls
Pairings: Sam/Adam
Rating/warnings: R; torture, dubcon of the devil-made-them-do-it variety, homophobic thoughts, general fucked-upness
Word Count: ~1800
Summary: Adam Milligan, in Hell.
Notes: Fills the prompt 'Falsely imprisoned' on my
hc_bingo card. Which is due today, but at least I only have one square left, so, uh, go me? Title is from the Pink Floyd song Wish You Were Here.
The torture in Hell isn’t constant. Well, it is-Hell is torture by definition, Adam thinks, so how could a moment go by when he isn’t being tortured?-but it isn’t always the exact same thing, over and over again. Sometimes Michael leaves him so that he can attack Lucifer in his true, glorious, terrifying form. When they go off and do this, he and Sam are left behind to slowly freeze on the hard ice of the cage’s floor.
It’s during one of these moments-the first one, actually, the first real break in the near constant pain since they ended up here-that Sam turns to him and says with his eyes large and sympathetic, “I’m sorry, Adam. Really, I am. You…you didn’t deserve this, any of it. The only reason this happened was because you had the shitty luck to have John Winchester as your father.”
Adam turns away from him. Sam’s words piss him off, more than they probably should. “You mean unlike you?” he asks, and his voice sounds loud and distorted against the sounds of two archangels ripping each other apart above them. “You mean I didn’t fuck my life up with demon blood? I wasn’t stupid enough to think I could hold in the devil?”
Sam’s breath catches (and isn’t that funny, that they should need to breathe in Hell?). When he speaks, though, it’s steady and clear, even though he’s spent the last god-knows-how-many days screaming. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. But I did what I had to.”
“For Earth,” Adam replies sarcastically. “The greater good?”
“Yes.” Sam pauses. “And I’m sorry that you got screwed over. I really am.”
Adam snorts, but before he has time to tell his brother how completely full of shit he is, Michael returns, and he spends the next hour learning what it’s like to have your skin peeled from your flesh by the fingers of a vengeful angel.
*
The other angel, the one that Michael calls Castiel and speaks of in scornful tones, is smaller in his true form than the archangels. His wings, Adam notes as he descends, are less grand, the feathers duller. The light that shines from him is brilliant, though, and if Adam hadn’t grown immune to it, he expects that he would have to shield his eyes, lest he have them burned out of his skull.
He and Sam are left below as Michael and Lucifer fly up to meet him. Adam watches this all with a dull disinterest; he doesn’t know why the other angel has come, but he’s certain that it doesn’t matter. What could one low-ranking bird do against two of the greatest powers in Creation?
Sam stirs beside him. His chest is covered in blood, even though no wound is visible. Adam isn’t sure how Lucifer did that. He doesn’t usually watch Sam’s tortures - his own preoccupy him enough. His half-brother’s screams are impossible to ignore, though, and Adam doesn’t try. He gets some satisfaction out of them, knowing that Sam has to suffer right along with him, when it’s his fault they’re there in the first place.
“Castiel?” Sam asks, his voice hoarse.
“They’ll kill him,” says Adam, seeing Michael and Lucifer swoop towards him. “He’s not going to make it out. Angels don’t go to Hell.”
“He does.” There’s no emotion in Sam’s voice, just fact. “Cas!”
Suddenly, Lucifer darts away, and Castiel slams Michael off to the side of the cage. It can’t hurt him much, but it’s enough of a distraction to give Castiel the time to dive down, and Adam barely has time to react as the angel reaches down one impossibly bright, curved wing-scoops up Sam-
Leaves, flying out with as much briefness as he came in, and Adam is left there in the icy cage, and he screams, “No! You can’t just take him and leave me; that’s not fair, that’s not right-” but Castiel is gone, and it’s just him and two pissed-to-hell angels.
*
It soon becomes clear that Castiel screwed up, freed Sam’s shell from the Cage, but left him, his soul, behind. Lucifer bends and twists it until Sam’s essence matches his flesh, until he can torture it just the same as he could a body.
Adam laughs and laughs when Lucifer reveals the deception, and he thinks that he likes the devil very much.
*
One day when Michael and Lucifer are off fighting their own battle, he kisses Sam. He doesn’t know why he does it, but Sam kisses back, all rough and fierce, and Adam finds himself harder than he can ever remember being.
They’re both naked, of course-clothes get in the way of pain-and it isn’t long before Sam is inside of him and he’s gasping and writing under his brother, the pain of no preparation contrasting with the intensity with which he comes. Sam gives a low cry a moment later and follows his lead, his fingernails digging painfully into Adam’s shoulders as he rides out his orgasm.
Just like that, the spell is broken, and Adam’s mind is clear again, aware and disgusted by what he’s done. It’s not even that he’s just been fucked by a guy-although that’s goddamn gross in its own right-but Sam is his brother.
He rolls away, forcing Sam out of him. “Stay away from me,” he hisses, his ass stretched and sore even as he feels Sam’s come start to drip out of him. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”
Sam is gasping, struggling to his knees. “Adam-oh, shit, I’m sorry; I don’t know what that was-they made us do that, I swear that wasn’t me--”
Adam shakes his head and backs away from him, not caring why that just happened. He’s just had sex with his brother. Somewhere above an angel is laughing-he thinks it’s Lucifer, but fuck it if it matters anymore-fuck. He’s been broken and ripped and burned before; he’s been frozen and flayed and, yes, torn apart from the inside before by the angels’ insidious tortures. But this? This is worse than all that. This is what makes him want to end it more than anything, more than all of the other things he’s faced. And this is what convinces him that even if he does get out, even if an angel does decide to scoop him up and raise him up to Heaven or Earth, he’s never going to be the same. Oblivion holds the only relief for him, and if there’s one thing that Hell has made him certain of, it’s that oblivion doesn’t exist. There’s always more pain waiting in the void. Escape from it all is nothing more than the fantasy of fools.
*
Later Michael takes out his heart and burns it before him. He flogs his back until it’s nothing more than a mess of blood with a few bits of skin hanging on here and there. He crushes his legs until the bone in them becomes nothing more than powder, and he breaks every one of his fingers with a careful and delicate precision.
When Adam doesn’t react to any of this, he reaches forward and gently, almost kindly, touches his chin with a wing. “All my actions, and it is the Morningstar that breaks you?”
His booming voice is strong and jealous. Adam takes some pride at that by being broken almost completely, he has angered the angel responsible for his imprisonment in the first place.
*
One day he finds that he no longer remembers before. His name he keeps, and that of Michael, and Lucifer, and Sam. But who he was, where he came from, why he is here-that’s all lost to him. There is just pain and dying and living, nothing more. Maybe there never was anything else, he thinks, and the thought that niggles at his mind that he should remember is nothing more than another one of the angels’ tricks.
*
Sometimes he and Sam fuck. There’s no emotion to it, but the moment of release feels good.
“You’ve come a long way,” says Michael. “No shame? None at all?”
Adam doesn’t know what he means, so he just shrugs and says no, no shame.
*
One day a man walks in, and for the first time, Adam sees Lucifer and Michael show… respect. Deference; even fear, perhaps.
Adam feels nothing. Not surprise, not interest. No curiosity. He hasn’t felt for a very long time.
He’s skinny and impossibly old, more ancient, maybe, than the angels. Lucifer calls him Death, and asks why he is here.
“Not to let you be master of me again, that’s for certain.” Death regards Lucifer with something like disgust. “You have no power down here, Lightbringer.”
“You think I’m unaware of that?”
“I think you should keep that in mind as I act.”
Death doesn’t give them long to ponder over the meaning of his words. He walks slowly, confidently through the Cage, until he comes to where Sam is pinned to the wall, as in crucifixion.
Sam has been as silent as Adam these days. It took him longer to stop screaming, though. Once Adam had resented him for that, for lasting longer. Now he feels nothing but apathy towards his companion in the cage.
“Sam Winchester,” says the man they call Death. “Today is your lucky day.”
He waves a hand and Sam becomes unpinned from the wall. He slumps down, and Death catches him, though Sam is a head taller and far broader than he, even in this starved soul form.
“Well then.” Death’s hands close tight around Sam, and he begins carrying him to the place where he came in. “It’s been lovely to see you. Until we meet again.” And he nods at Adam and Michael and Lucifer, and suddenly Adam realizes what he’s doing, and he finds out that yeah, he’s still capable of feeling.
“No!” He crawls forward and grabs Death’s ankle, not caring how fucking pathetic he is. “Don’t take him and not me; don’t leave me behind, not again.”
Death looks down at him coolly, his eyes dark and impassive. “I’m sorry,” he says, although his voice holds nothing like sorrow in it. “Dean asked for Sam’s soul, not for you.”
“No,” he pleads, crying and not caring. “No, don’t go.”
Death untangles himself and walks on. “On the day I reap all, you won’t be left behind,” he says, like that’s supposed to be reassuring or something. “Until then, Adam Milligan.”
And then he is gone, and it really is just Adam and two enraged archangels left, and he collapses on the ice of the Cage, and wonders why, when he never knew anything of devils or angels or evil when he was alive, why in spite of him never wanting or doing anything to deserve this, it’s always him who gets left behind.
Pairings: Sam/Adam
Rating/warnings: R; torture, dubcon of the devil-made-them-do-it variety, homophobic thoughts, general fucked-upness
Word Count: ~1800
Summary: Adam Milligan, in Hell.
Notes: Fills the prompt 'Falsely imprisoned' on my
hc_bingo card. Which is due today, but at least I only have one square left, so, uh, go me? Title is from the Pink Floyd song Wish You Were Here.
The torture in Hell isn’t constant. Well, it is-Hell is torture by definition, Adam thinks, so how could a moment go by when he isn’t being tortured?-but it isn’t always the exact same thing, over and over again. Sometimes Michael leaves him so that he can attack Lucifer in his true, glorious, terrifying form. When they go off and do this, he and Sam are left behind to slowly freeze on the hard ice of the cage’s floor.
It’s during one of these moments-the first one, actually, the first real break in the near constant pain since they ended up here-that Sam turns to him and says with his eyes large and sympathetic, “I’m sorry, Adam. Really, I am. You…you didn’t deserve this, any of it. The only reason this happened was because you had the shitty luck to have John Winchester as your father.”
Adam turns away from him. Sam’s words piss him off, more than they probably should. “You mean unlike you?” he asks, and his voice sounds loud and distorted against the sounds of two archangels ripping each other apart above them. “You mean I didn’t fuck my life up with demon blood? I wasn’t stupid enough to think I could hold in the devil?”
Sam’s breath catches (and isn’t that funny, that they should need to breathe in Hell?). When he speaks, though, it’s steady and clear, even though he’s spent the last god-knows-how-many days screaming. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. But I did what I had to.”
“For Earth,” Adam replies sarcastically. “The greater good?”
“Yes.” Sam pauses. “And I’m sorry that you got screwed over. I really am.”
Adam snorts, but before he has time to tell his brother how completely full of shit he is, Michael returns, and he spends the next hour learning what it’s like to have your skin peeled from your flesh by the fingers of a vengeful angel.
*
The other angel, the one that Michael calls Castiel and speaks of in scornful tones, is smaller in his true form than the archangels. His wings, Adam notes as he descends, are less grand, the feathers duller. The light that shines from him is brilliant, though, and if Adam hadn’t grown immune to it, he expects that he would have to shield his eyes, lest he have them burned out of his skull.
He and Sam are left below as Michael and Lucifer fly up to meet him. Adam watches this all with a dull disinterest; he doesn’t know why the other angel has come, but he’s certain that it doesn’t matter. What could one low-ranking bird do against two of the greatest powers in Creation?
Sam stirs beside him. His chest is covered in blood, even though no wound is visible. Adam isn’t sure how Lucifer did that. He doesn’t usually watch Sam’s tortures - his own preoccupy him enough. His half-brother’s screams are impossible to ignore, though, and Adam doesn’t try. He gets some satisfaction out of them, knowing that Sam has to suffer right along with him, when it’s his fault they’re there in the first place.
“Castiel?” Sam asks, his voice hoarse.
“They’ll kill him,” says Adam, seeing Michael and Lucifer swoop towards him. “He’s not going to make it out. Angels don’t go to Hell.”
“He does.” There’s no emotion in Sam’s voice, just fact. “Cas!”
Suddenly, Lucifer darts away, and Castiel slams Michael off to the side of the cage. It can’t hurt him much, but it’s enough of a distraction to give Castiel the time to dive down, and Adam barely has time to react as the angel reaches down one impossibly bright, curved wing-scoops up Sam-
Leaves, flying out with as much briefness as he came in, and Adam is left there in the icy cage, and he screams, “No! You can’t just take him and leave me; that’s not fair, that’s not right-” but Castiel is gone, and it’s just him and two pissed-to-hell angels.
*
It soon becomes clear that Castiel screwed up, freed Sam’s shell from the Cage, but left him, his soul, behind. Lucifer bends and twists it until Sam’s essence matches his flesh, until he can torture it just the same as he could a body.
Adam laughs and laughs when Lucifer reveals the deception, and he thinks that he likes the devil very much.
*
One day when Michael and Lucifer are off fighting their own battle, he kisses Sam. He doesn’t know why he does it, but Sam kisses back, all rough and fierce, and Adam finds himself harder than he can ever remember being.
They’re both naked, of course-clothes get in the way of pain-and it isn’t long before Sam is inside of him and he’s gasping and writing under his brother, the pain of no preparation contrasting with the intensity with which he comes. Sam gives a low cry a moment later and follows his lead, his fingernails digging painfully into Adam’s shoulders as he rides out his orgasm.
Just like that, the spell is broken, and Adam’s mind is clear again, aware and disgusted by what he’s done. It’s not even that he’s just been fucked by a guy-although that’s goddamn gross in its own right-but Sam is his brother.
He rolls away, forcing Sam out of him. “Stay away from me,” he hisses, his ass stretched and sore even as he feels Sam’s come start to drip out of him. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”
Sam is gasping, struggling to his knees. “Adam-oh, shit, I’m sorry; I don’t know what that was-they made us do that, I swear that wasn’t me--”
Adam shakes his head and backs away from him, not caring why that just happened. He’s just had sex with his brother. Somewhere above an angel is laughing-he thinks it’s Lucifer, but fuck it if it matters anymore-fuck. He’s been broken and ripped and burned before; he’s been frozen and flayed and, yes, torn apart from the inside before by the angels’ insidious tortures. But this? This is worse than all that. This is what makes him want to end it more than anything, more than all of the other things he’s faced. And this is what convinces him that even if he does get out, even if an angel does decide to scoop him up and raise him up to Heaven or Earth, he’s never going to be the same. Oblivion holds the only relief for him, and if there’s one thing that Hell has made him certain of, it’s that oblivion doesn’t exist. There’s always more pain waiting in the void. Escape from it all is nothing more than the fantasy of fools.
*
Later Michael takes out his heart and burns it before him. He flogs his back until it’s nothing more than a mess of blood with a few bits of skin hanging on here and there. He crushes his legs until the bone in them becomes nothing more than powder, and he breaks every one of his fingers with a careful and delicate precision.
When Adam doesn’t react to any of this, he reaches forward and gently, almost kindly, touches his chin with a wing. “All my actions, and it is the Morningstar that breaks you?”
His booming voice is strong and jealous. Adam takes some pride at that by being broken almost completely, he has angered the angel responsible for his imprisonment in the first place.
*
One day he finds that he no longer remembers before. His name he keeps, and that of Michael, and Lucifer, and Sam. But who he was, where he came from, why he is here-that’s all lost to him. There is just pain and dying and living, nothing more. Maybe there never was anything else, he thinks, and the thought that niggles at his mind that he should remember is nothing more than another one of the angels’ tricks.
*
Sometimes he and Sam fuck. There’s no emotion to it, but the moment of release feels good.
“You’ve come a long way,” says Michael. “No shame? None at all?”
Adam doesn’t know what he means, so he just shrugs and says no, no shame.
*
One day a man walks in, and for the first time, Adam sees Lucifer and Michael show… respect. Deference; even fear, perhaps.
Adam feels nothing. Not surprise, not interest. No curiosity. He hasn’t felt for a very long time.
He’s skinny and impossibly old, more ancient, maybe, than the angels. Lucifer calls him Death, and asks why he is here.
“Not to let you be master of me again, that’s for certain.” Death regards Lucifer with something like disgust. “You have no power down here, Lightbringer.”
“You think I’m unaware of that?”
“I think you should keep that in mind as I act.”
Death doesn’t give them long to ponder over the meaning of his words. He walks slowly, confidently through the Cage, until he comes to where Sam is pinned to the wall, as in crucifixion.
Sam has been as silent as Adam these days. It took him longer to stop screaming, though. Once Adam had resented him for that, for lasting longer. Now he feels nothing but apathy towards his companion in the cage.
“Sam Winchester,” says the man they call Death. “Today is your lucky day.”
He waves a hand and Sam becomes unpinned from the wall. He slumps down, and Death catches him, though Sam is a head taller and far broader than he, even in this starved soul form.
“Well then.” Death’s hands close tight around Sam, and he begins carrying him to the place where he came in. “It’s been lovely to see you. Until we meet again.” And he nods at Adam and Michael and Lucifer, and suddenly Adam realizes what he’s doing, and he finds out that yeah, he’s still capable of feeling.
“No!” He crawls forward and grabs Death’s ankle, not caring how fucking pathetic he is. “Don’t take him and not me; don’t leave me behind, not again.”
Death looks down at him coolly, his eyes dark and impassive. “I’m sorry,” he says, although his voice holds nothing like sorrow in it. “Dean asked for Sam’s soul, not for you.”
“No,” he pleads, crying and not caring. “No, don’t go.”
Death untangles himself and walks on. “On the day I reap all, you won’t be left behind,” he says, like that’s supposed to be reassuring or something. “Until then, Adam Milligan.”
And then he is gone, and it really is just Adam and two enraged archangels left, and he collapses on the ice of the Cage, and wonders why, when he never knew anything of devils or angels or evil when he was alive, why in spite of him never wanting or doing anything to deserve this, it’s always him who gets left behind.