Fic: Inoculation of Two Souls 2/3 (Supernatural)
Title: Inosculation of Two Souls
Author: rirren
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Adam, Sam
Pairing: Sam/Adam
Word Count: ~3,900
Genre: angst, dark, hurt/comfort
Content notes: noncon, bad guys made them do it, codependency, mental instability, unhealthy relationships, sleep deprivation
Summary: Trapped together for centuries in the cage, Sam and Adam wrap around each other like inosculating branches of two different trees.
Author's Note:
Thank you so much to fioreitaliano and Alyndra for their cheerleading and alpha reading. I wouldn't have been able to finish this fic without them, let alone to such a length. And thanks to Alyndra for also doing a great job beta reading!
This fic is 90% complete and the remaining chapters will be posted very soon.
Written for this kink meme prompt.
Back to chapter 1
- - -
In the amount of time it takes for Not-Michael and the old man to open the door, Adam has remembered what the black thing is called: a car. The car has taken them somewhere-in the center of dirty ice is a shelter, a beautiful shade of blue that he sometimes sees in Sam's eyes. Not-Michael gives Sam and Adam some soft things and when Sam just stares and Adam takes one to stroke, he lets out an annoyed breath and makes them pull on the material, fastening it tight.
He leads them to sit on something together-everything is soft here-and sits opposite them. The old man stands a little behind, watching them.
"We got you out-Cas did. You're not in the cage anymore."
Adam ignores him, looks around. He's waiting for the humiliation to start. It's been so long since Lucifer has put them through one of these illusions, he can only guess what direction it's going to take.
"Sam!" barks Not-Michael.
Adam's head swivels to look at Sam. Sam's chest is moving very slightly but quickly, beneath the cloth covering it. Adam reaches a hand across, touches Sam's hand carefully, curling his fingers into Sam's palm.
"Do you remember me?"
Sam doesn't answer. He glances at Adam next to him, trying not to turn his head at all. He's panicking. There are no instructions yet; neither of them have any idea what they're meant to do.
"Dean." The old man speaks up. "They need to rest, get something to eat, before you interrogate them."
Not-Michael looks frustrated, but he nods and the old man leaves the room, brings them back containers made of clear ice.
"Have a drink," he says, and oh fuck, Adam knows where this is going now.
Lucifer has done this a few times, made him swallow snow and melted ice, made him swallow until his belly was rounded and hard, until his stomach burst, his skin purpling underneath.
Adam drinks the whole glass of warm melted ice and so does Sam. The old man fills it up again, and Adam drinks it again. When he's finished the old man takes the glass off him. His face is creased like Sam's when he's worried. Adam realizes he has tears running down his face.
"I think that's enough," the old man says.
He says they should go to bed. Not-Michael and the old man lead them up, put Adam in a box and Sam in another box. Adam stays until it's quiet and then he creeps out into Sam's box, where they fall into each other, wrap themselves up on the bed, as soft as snow and as warm as Sam's body.
They talk sporadically, not sure if they're allowed to. Neither of them know what to do, but Sam thinks they should wait and see what happens. They don't say much else-just being in each other's company is enough. Although it's stressful sitting and waiting for the blow to come, it's the closest thing to a reprieve they've had for a long time.
Adam had already been feeling weird when this illusion appeared-his body feeling ill-fitting, but it gets worse. His skin is damp and warm, the ground keeps tilting underneath him, and he has a dull pressure in his stomach-not painful, like it's going to burst-just mildly uncomfortable.
Turns out that feeling means he needs to look after himself and use the bathroom, as Not-Michael explains angrily later when it's light. He brings in the old man to give them a lecture about what bodily sensations mean and what they should do about them.
This at least feels a bit like punishment, but when Sam and Adam are led into a white, white room, gripping each others' hands so tightly, no pain follows. Not-Michael fiddles with something and warm water starts falling. They just have to stand under it, although Adam has to sit down when he starts to feel unsteady.
When they're finished and dry, Adam's skin is glowing pink and he feels warm and comfortable the way he only feels if Sam is wrapped up around him. But his mind is racing, trying to make sense of everything. His muscles are tense, waiting for the real punishment to start.
They're finally led down to the ground level and settled in a different area. Everything is sharp, and the shelter is full of colors he rarely sees: blues that he only ever sees in the coating of veins; browns that he only ever sees in Sam's hair; yellows like globs of fat; these colors are everywhere in the environment now. His brain is being overloaded.
Not-Michael holds up a flat thing with burnt meat on it, and staring pleadingly at Sam, says, "You guys need to eat something. Come on, Sammy."
Sam's complexion is ashen, but he takes it, and stares at it for a few seconds like he's trying to psych himself up to swallow it. Not-Michael pushes some of the burnt meat at Adam, nodding encouragingly.
Adam should take it, he should, he needs to play along. But he's sick of waiting for the drop, not knowing what this new illusion is about. It needs a jump start.
"No."
The old man glances over from where he's standing in the corner. Not-Michael's hand shakes, almost dropping the meat.
"You're not hungry?" he asks. The old man steps over, shoots a look at Not-Michael. "Or you don't like bacon?"
Adam doesn't know how to answer either of those questions. His body is vibrating as he waits for the punishment. But the two men don't do anything except ask more questions, trying to coax him into talking more.
"No," Adam repeats. "No, no, no, no!"
He shoots up to standing. Nothing's happening. They look alarmed but Lucifer or Michael would have stopped Adam by now. He's not there, he's somewhere else-where is he?
His face is crumpling up-he doesn't know if he should be relieved or petrified. He backs away, twisting his hands. Scaphoid, lunate, triquetrum...
He's started chanting it now, he thinks. The world is becoming blurry and unreal, like a reflection in frosted ice.
...capate, trapezoid...
He hears a screech and Sam stands up, knocking his chair back. Sam reaches for him and he lashes out at first, struggling as Sam pulls him in a tight embrace. His arms are pinned by his side, his face smothered by the clothes Sam is wearing, but slowly Sam's scent and warmth penetrate the fog, and his struggles slow until he's just standing there, sobbing, collapsed against Sam.
- - -
Not-Michael leaves for a while; the old man stays in the room but keeps his distance. When Not-Michael comes back, he has something for them. He tells them that they don't have to drink it, they can just taste it. But, he says, it tastes awesome and it'll make them healthy.
It's true. Adam sucks out the thick liquid and keeps it in his mouth for ages. It tastes like nothing he's ever swallowed before and makes his teeth feel furry and his tongue tingle like the beginnings of frostbite. He loves it.
He sits curled up next to Sam with Sam's arm around him, as they listen to what the two have to say.
They're out. Lucifer and Michael are locked up and can never get to them. Sam's brother saved them.
Sam is shaking, a soft vibration against Adam's chest. He licks his dry lips before saying, in a voice just as cracked, "Dean?"
Sam's brother gives a shaky smile, his eyes watery with relief. "Yeah, Sammy. God, it's been-I thought I'd never get you back, I … you're all right?"
Sam nods. His chest is shuddering unevenly now, his breath catching. "Yeah, I … Dean, I knew-I knew you'd find us-"
He can't say any more, words swallowed in a gasp like a sob. Sam reaches out his hand, his brother reaching out at the same time, and their hands touch, intertwining. Sam's shoulders shake as tears run down his face.
When he leans forward Adam has to let go, falling back against the couch, watching as Sam hugs his brother. He feels empty, like all the blood has drained from his body, as he watches the two of them. Sam’s got his brother back, the one thing from his old life.
"Where's my mom?"
Sam's brother breaks the hug reluctantly. He rubs the back of his head, avoiding Adam's gaze.
"She's … Adam, she's dead. Several years back. Don't you remember?"
Not a lot of those words make sense. The inside of Adam's mouth feels dry, tongue sticking unpleasantly when he opens his mouth.
"What..." His voice trails off; he doesn't really know what he's trying to ask.
The old man speaks up. "She's gone … She’s in a better place."
Adam's blood starts throbbing: a burst of excitement.
"Can I go see her?"
Sam's brother and the old man have faces like Adam is something pathetic, like he's doing something awful they're embarrassed to witness it. They start on explanations: no, he can't go see her, no, she can't come here, it's not a place people can come and go to easily, no, it's just not possible. And when Adam starts to understand that there's just no way-he doesn't know if they're stopping him or what, but it's not going to happen-he screams. His mother won't ever hold Adam or tell him everything is okay, and what if Sam leaves, what if Sam doesn't need Adam now that he has his brother back.
He picks up something and throws it at Sam, he just wants to smash Sam's face in until he feels better, but Sam's brother tackles him to the ground and the old man helps hold him down. Sam hangs back, a line of blood and blossoming red on his cheek where the thing Adam threw smashed into his face. He didn't dodge, he never does; he understands that Adam needs to let out his anger sometimes.
Adam screams and fights, and Sam backs away until he's tucked away in the corner of the room, curled up and pulling at his hair while he watches.
- - -
Adam gets another lecture about that. He seethes with anger, wants to jump over and hurt the old man, but he holds it back, and later, when Sam finds him, he gets a long hug.
Sam's brother (Dean) and the old man (Bobby) are a lot more careful about leaving Sam and Adam on their own after that. Any time Adam is in the same room as Sam they're there. Adam hates them and he wants the time back in the cage, where it was just him and Sam. Even being in the illusions he had more time on his own with Sam. Now suddenly Adam is just one part of Sam's life, whereas he used to be the center of Sam's attention. Sam told him stories about his brother but Adam never grasped until now just how much Dean means to Sam.
Dean and Bobby won't stop hovering, trying to get Sam and Adam to do things, asking them if they want this or that, what they think about this. Adam can't think. He just wants them to go away.
And they won't stop offering Sam and Adam things to "eat". Saying that they need to eat, or they'll get sick. They stop with the burnt meat at least, when Sam threw up when he actually tried to swallow some. Adam refuses it all, his skin breaking out in a cold sweat when he's presented with something to chew. They keep getting the smoothies though, a couple of big ones at a time that Adam makes last as long as possible.
At least some things are easy here. When it's light outside they stay downstairs and are asked interminable questions. When it's dark they go upstairs and Adam is left to sit in a room on his own. An unmoving routine. He's not allowed to see Sam during this time and there's always someone watching to stop him from leaving his room. Something about the darkness means he has to be on his own, and so he spends the time rocking on the floor and waiting to see Sam again.
Adam is almost reconciled to the concept that they're actually out, that it's not just an illusion. And being here, maybe out of the Cage, is at least bringing some things back. He's remembering words, some of it from hearing Dean and Bobby talk, but a lot of it just seems to pop into his head randomly, words for objects he hasn't seen for hundreds of years, had no need for.
There have been a couple of periods of darkness before Adam and Sam leave the house. They're both shepherded through the interminable morning routine: using the toilet, getting wet and then dry again, changing to a different set of clothes; before they're let downstairs. Sam is sitting next to Adam, holding his hand and rubbing it, but he's turned towards his brother listening to Dean talk about something. Adam sits by the window, eyes closed against the brightness, bathing in the warmth.
"Adam. You wanna go out?" asks Bobby, from the other side of the room.
Adam opens his eyes and just glares back, because how he is he meant to answer that?
"Damn, yeah, we need to go outside," says Dean. "It's been days. I'm getting cabin fever."
Sam nods when Dean asks him to come out. He does anything Dean asks him to, stars in his eyes as he follows his big brother around. Adam wants to refuse, they don't need to do what Dean and Bobby ask them to; they're not Lucifer and Michael, they're weak, but he wants to be with Sam, so he follows too.
It's bright outside, so bright it washes out his vision for a while. A huge white circle radiates heat above them. He walks a few steps behind Sam, holding on to his shirt. His head swims and he tugs Sam's shirt, pulling them down to kneel on the ground. He closes his eyes and pants for breath while the world tilts around him. These bouts of strange detachment have been getting more frequent.
Bobby's voice barely manages to penetrate the fuzziness in Adam's brain. "I guess we'll just put the picnic sheet here to start with."
He lays the soft sheet on the ground, a few feet from the house. They sit on it, and Adam squints at the expanse in front of them. There's brilliant blue above them, green and brown all around, and it's so beautiful: the words for these things are on the tip of his tongue but trying to remember starts a throbbing in his temples, threatening a full blown headache. His vision blurs and he sways to the side, brushing against Sam. Sam gently tugs him down until he's lying down, head resting in Sam's lap. Dean starts talking to Sam in a low voice and Adam wants to tell him to shut the fuck up, but Sam's fingers are combing through his hair, and he closes his eyes and lets his anger drain out of him.
"Hello, Adam."
Adam's eyes fly open. He's lying alone on the snow. Lucifer is standing above him, leaning over. He smiles through the flecks of blood on his face.
Adam scrambles back, rushing to get on his feet.
"Where's Sam?" His heart is pounding like it's about to burst out of his mouth.
Lucifer tsks. "So disobedient. You haven't even been gone that long."
"Sam. Please." Adam's voice is cracked, on the edge of tears.
Lucifer gestures behind him carelessly. "Don't worry. I'm taking good care of Sam. You didn't think I'd let him go, did you?"
Adam looks over, eyes drawn to the trickle of crimson through the snow, the crimson that keeps coming until it's a river of red gushing through the snow, there's so much blood, how can there be that much, he's drowning in it, sticky copper in his mouth ... Sam, where's Sam?
He bolts upright, his own shrill voice echoing in his ears. The light is blinding, and he struggles against the hands holding him, hitting out until his vision clears, and that comforting scent reaches him, and he realizes who it is.
He grabs onto Sam with both hands, pulling him in and holding him close, fists clenched on the soft flannel. His chest heaves as his lungs try to take in choking breaths, and then he's sobbing. Sam is holding him tight, hands brushing his hair and stroking his back, trying to calm him down.
"Don't let me go back, please, don't let me go, Sam."
He can't stop his frantic pleas. His skin is cold and sweaty, he feels like he's going to puke up his organs. Lucifer had him, for just a moment-he reached out and pulled Adam and Sam back in, they're not safe.
"You're safe. Adam, what's wrong, tell me."
Adam shakes his head, rubbing his face in Sam's shirt until his skin is tingling and he feels like he can breathe again. He hides his face there, in the crook of Sam's neck, letting the rhythmic motion of Sam's hands stroking up and down his back quieten his shaking, until finally he can talk.
"Lucifer. He pulled us back there … he had you."
"Adam, I've been here. Nothing happened, you were lying down for a while and then you started screaming."
Adam shakes his head, his stomach dropping hard.
"Whoa, wait, I think I get what's going on," says Sam's brother, and Adam glances over. "It was just a dream. It's not real."
Adam flicks his eyes at Sam and back to Dean, says nothing.
"A dream. You know what that is, right? When you're asleep?"
Sam shakes his head silently, holds Adam. Dean swears, and presses his fist to his mouth, closes his eyes for a second.
"Jesus Christ," he says. "What the fuck-"
- - -
The long explanation Bobby gives does nothing to calm Adam down. So sometimes when he's asleep he'll see things, and it'll feel like it's real, but it's definitely not. And it's probably going to happen again-he can't do anything to stop it, because he needs to sleep or he'll get sick. Adam isn't entirely convinced the whole thing isn't a new illusion to torture them. He can't trust any of Dean and Bobby's reassurances that they're safe anymore, not when he can be taken away at any time, to a place that maybe isn't real but still feels like it.
Sam keeps his arms wrapped around Adam the whole time. It should be comforting but Adam can't stop the intermittent shaking of his body, the way all his muscles refuse to relax, and how his eyes keep darting around, looking for the hand of Lucifer to pull him back down there. Dean and Bobby try to make him drink his smoothie when it's time for bed but just smelling it makes him gag, and the only thing he can swallow is a few mouthfuls of water.
And then it gets dark, and the murkiness seems to wash in close and suffocate him, hardly chased off by the false pockets of light from inside. Sam and Adam are shepherded through the evening routine, a tiring repeat of the morning routine, and when it's over they're led to their separate rooms.
He sits on the bed instead of lying down, and stares at the wall. He can't concentrate on anything, his mind feels slippery and loose, like a detached liver slopping around in an abdominal cavity. He thinks he can hear whispering, Lucifer's silken voice in his ears, but there's nothing there when he turns around. The hanging star by the window spins around slowly from an invisible breeze.
The world starts to unfocus and turn gray, and for a second he loses himself. He jerks his head back up, heart beating a frantic rhythm. He'd almost slipped back there, "fallen asleep".
He can still hear sounds from the hallway: someone going through their own evening routine, and he's wishing they would hurry up so he can try sneaking in to Sam's room when suddenly he hears tortured and terrified screaming.
He's out of his room and in Sam's in less than a heartbeat. Sam is tangled up in his covers, eyes squeezed tightly shut, face contorted in a hideous mask of pain as he screams. Adam jumps on the bed, grabs him by the shoulders, and shakes and shakes him-he's not going to let Lucifer take Sam: come back, please. Sam's head hits the headboard of the bed hard and his eyes burst open. He takes in a deep breath like he's been drowning and grabs at Adam like he's the one thing keeping him afloat.
"Sammy!"
It's Sam's brother rushing in, Bobby right behind him. He comes in so fast he almost runs into the bed frame. He kneels beside the bed, reaches out-and Sam flinches back, eyes wide in an animal-like fear. His hands dig into Adam's arms and he backs away against the wall, legs scrabbling like he's trying to melt through the solid bricks.
"Sammy, hey, stay calm. It's okay," says Dean, taking a step back, voice low and soothing.
Adam ignores him. Sam isn't seeing Dean, not really-his mind is still dripping with the detritus of Lucifer's cage. Adam pulls his hands slowly free of Sam's grip and cradles Sam's face, directing his gaze to his face with the lightest touch. Sam's frightened eyes meet his for a second before darting away, drawn by something only he can see.
Adam starts talking softly, a low murmur of comforting sound. "Look at me, yeah, don't pay attention to anything else. I'm here, I've got you, I won't let him take you. Sam, it's me, I'll protect you, okay, don't look at anything else, it's not real, I'm the only thing here-"
Eventually Sam's breathing slows from the previous pained hyperventilation, and he meets Adam's eyes. Adam smiles.
"There we are. I'm here. You okay?"
Sam moves his head in an infinitesimal nod, chin brushing against Adam's palms. Adam brings his hands down, releasing Sam's face before picking up one of his hands and squeezing it.
"What did you see?" he asks.
- - -
It takes a while for Sam to drag out the words for what happened-being back in the cage, Lucifer pulling Adam apart, forcing Sam to watch, and then making Sam hurt Adam. Adam listens while holding Sam's hands-a soft touch to keep Sam anchored here. Dean listens for the beginning but at some point his face turns white and he leaves. He returns at the end of the story, when Sam has stopped talking and is just collapsed against Adam, head resting on Adam's shoulder.
Dean's hair is slightly wet and sticking up, the skin around his eyes pink. "I need to talk to Sam," he says shortly. "Get back to your room and get some rest."
Adam clenches Sam's palm hard. "No," he spits out.
Dean raises his eyebrows. "Get out and leave me to talk with my brother."
Adam's blood churns and words pour out of him. "I'm not doing anything, you hairless, goat-fathered abomination!"
"Adam," Sam sighs. "I'll be okay."
Adam spins around, locks his eyes with Sam's, asking a dozen questions without words. Sam just nods, and Adam's stomach sinks. His mouth feels like dust but he kneels forward in the bed, curls his arms around Sam, holding him for a long moment before he gets up and leaves the room.
He hears low voices from the room as the door closes, and the humiliation follows him all the way to his room.
Next chapter
Author: rirren
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Adam, Sam
Pairing: Sam/Adam
Word Count: ~3,900
Genre: angst, dark, hurt/comfort
Content notes: noncon, bad guys made them do it, codependency, mental instability, unhealthy relationships, sleep deprivation
Summary: Trapped together for centuries in the cage, Sam and Adam wrap around each other like inosculating branches of two different trees.
Author's Note:
Thank you so much to fioreitaliano and Alyndra for their cheerleading and alpha reading. I wouldn't have been able to finish this fic without them, let alone to such a length. And thanks to Alyndra for also doing a great job beta reading!
This fic is 90% complete and the remaining chapters will be posted very soon.
Written for this kink meme prompt.
Back to chapter 1
- - -
In the amount of time it takes for Not-Michael and the old man to open the door, Adam has remembered what the black thing is called: a car. The car has taken them somewhere-in the center of dirty ice is a shelter, a beautiful shade of blue that he sometimes sees in Sam's eyes. Not-Michael gives Sam and Adam some soft things and when Sam just stares and Adam takes one to stroke, he lets out an annoyed breath and makes them pull on the material, fastening it tight.
He leads them to sit on something together-everything is soft here-and sits opposite them. The old man stands a little behind, watching them.
"We got you out-Cas did. You're not in the cage anymore."
Adam ignores him, looks around. He's waiting for the humiliation to start. It's been so long since Lucifer has put them through one of these illusions, he can only guess what direction it's going to take.
"Sam!" barks Not-Michael.
Adam's head swivels to look at Sam. Sam's chest is moving very slightly but quickly, beneath the cloth covering it. Adam reaches a hand across, touches Sam's hand carefully, curling his fingers into Sam's palm.
"Do you remember me?"
Sam doesn't answer. He glances at Adam next to him, trying not to turn his head at all. He's panicking. There are no instructions yet; neither of them have any idea what they're meant to do.
"Dean." The old man speaks up. "They need to rest, get something to eat, before you interrogate them."
Not-Michael looks frustrated, but he nods and the old man leaves the room, brings them back containers made of clear ice.
"Have a drink," he says, and oh fuck, Adam knows where this is going now.
Lucifer has done this a few times, made him swallow snow and melted ice, made him swallow until his belly was rounded and hard, until his stomach burst, his skin purpling underneath.
Adam drinks the whole glass of warm melted ice and so does Sam. The old man fills it up again, and Adam drinks it again. When he's finished the old man takes the glass off him. His face is creased like Sam's when he's worried. Adam realizes he has tears running down his face.
"I think that's enough," the old man says.
He says they should go to bed. Not-Michael and the old man lead them up, put Adam in a box and Sam in another box. Adam stays until it's quiet and then he creeps out into Sam's box, where they fall into each other, wrap themselves up on the bed, as soft as snow and as warm as Sam's body.
They talk sporadically, not sure if they're allowed to. Neither of them know what to do, but Sam thinks they should wait and see what happens. They don't say much else-just being in each other's company is enough. Although it's stressful sitting and waiting for the blow to come, it's the closest thing to a reprieve they've had for a long time.
Adam had already been feeling weird when this illusion appeared-his body feeling ill-fitting, but it gets worse. His skin is damp and warm, the ground keeps tilting underneath him, and he has a dull pressure in his stomach-not painful, like it's going to burst-just mildly uncomfortable.
Turns out that feeling means he needs to look after himself and use the bathroom, as Not-Michael explains angrily later when it's light. He brings in the old man to give them a lecture about what bodily sensations mean and what they should do about them.
This at least feels a bit like punishment, but when Sam and Adam are led into a white, white room, gripping each others' hands so tightly, no pain follows. Not-Michael fiddles with something and warm water starts falling. They just have to stand under it, although Adam has to sit down when he starts to feel unsteady.
When they're finished and dry, Adam's skin is glowing pink and he feels warm and comfortable the way he only feels if Sam is wrapped up around him. But his mind is racing, trying to make sense of everything. His muscles are tense, waiting for the real punishment to start.
They're finally led down to the ground level and settled in a different area. Everything is sharp, and the shelter is full of colors he rarely sees: blues that he only ever sees in the coating of veins; browns that he only ever sees in Sam's hair; yellows like globs of fat; these colors are everywhere in the environment now. His brain is being overloaded.
Not-Michael holds up a flat thing with burnt meat on it, and staring pleadingly at Sam, says, "You guys need to eat something. Come on, Sammy."
Sam's complexion is ashen, but he takes it, and stares at it for a few seconds like he's trying to psych himself up to swallow it. Not-Michael pushes some of the burnt meat at Adam, nodding encouragingly.
Adam should take it, he should, he needs to play along. But he's sick of waiting for the drop, not knowing what this new illusion is about. It needs a jump start.
"No."
The old man glances over from where he's standing in the corner. Not-Michael's hand shakes, almost dropping the meat.
"You're not hungry?" he asks. The old man steps over, shoots a look at Not-Michael. "Or you don't like bacon?"
Adam doesn't know how to answer either of those questions. His body is vibrating as he waits for the punishment. But the two men don't do anything except ask more questions, trying to coax him into talking more.
"No," Adam repeats. "No, no, no, no!"
He shoots up to standing. Nothing's happening. They look alarmed but Lucifer or Michael would have stopped Adam by now. He's not there, he's somewhere else-where is he?
His face is crumpling up-he doesn't know if he should be relieved or petrified. He backs away, twisting his hands. Scaphoid, lunate, triquetrum...
He's started chanting it now, he thinks. The world is becoming blurry and unreal, like a reflection in frosted ice.
...capate, trapezoid...
He hears a screech and Sam stands up, knocking his chair back. Sam reaches for him and he lashes out at first, struggling as Sam pulls him in a tight embrace. His arms are pinned by his side, his face smothered by the clothes Sam is wearing, but slowly Sam's scent and warmth penetrate the fog, and his struggles slow until he's just standing there, sobbing, collapsed against Sam.
- - -
Not-Michael leaves for a while; the old man stays in the room but keeps his distance. When Not-Michael comes back, he has something for them. He tells them that they don't have to drink it, they can just taste it. But, he says, it tastes awesome and it'll make them healthy.
It's true. Adam sucks out the thick liquid and keeps it in his mouth for ages. It tastes like nothing he's ever swallowed before and makes his teeth feel furry and his tongue tingle like the beginnings of frostbite. He loves it.
He sits curled up next to Sam with Sam's arm around him, as they listen to what the two have to say.
They're out. Lucifer and Michael are locked up and can never get to them. Sam's brother saved them.
Sam is shaking, a soft vibration against Adam's chest. He licks his dry lips before saying, in a voice just as cracked, "Dean?"
Sam's brother gives a shaky smile, his eyes watery with relief. "Yeah, Sammy. God, it's been-I thought I'd never get you back, I … you're all right?"
Sam nods. His chest is shuddering unevenly now, his breath catching. "Yeah, I … Dean, I knew-I knew you'd find us-"
He can't say any more, words swallowed in a gasp like a sob. Sam reaches out his hand, his brother reaching out at the same time, and their hands touch, intertwining. Sam's shoulders shake as tears run down his face.
When he leans forward Adam has to let go, falling back against the couch, watching as Sam hugs his brother. He feels empty, like all the blood has drained from his body, as he watches the two of them. Sam’s got his brother back, the one thing from his old life.
"Where's my mom?"
Sam's brother breaks the hug reluctantly. He rubs the back of his head, avoiding Adam's gaze.
"She's … Adam, she's dead. Several years back. Don't you remember?"
Not a lot of those words make sense. The inside of Adam's mouth feels dry, tongue sticking unpleasantly when he opens his mouth.
"What..." His voice trails off; he doesn't really know what he's trying to ask.
The old man speaks up. "She's gone … She’s in a better place."
Adam's blood starts throbbing: a burst of excitement.
"Can I go see her?"
Sam's brother and the old man have faces like Adam is something pathetic, like he's doing something awful they're embarrassed to witness it. They start on explanations: no, he can't go see her, no, she can't come here, it's not a place people can come and go to easily, no, it's just not possible. And when Adam starts to understand that there's just no way-he doesn't know if they're stopping him or what, but it's not going to happen-he screams. His mother won't ever hold Adam or tell him everything is okay, and what if Sam leaves, what if Sam doesn't need Adam now that he has his brother back.
He picks up something and throws it at Sam, he just wants to smash Sam's face in until he feels better, but Sam's brother tackles him to the ground and the old man helps hold him down. Sam hangs back, a line of blood and blossoming red on his cheek where the thing Adam threw smashed into his face. He didn't dodge, he never does; he understands that Adam needs to let out his anger sometimes.
Adam screams and fights, and Sam backs away until he's tucked away in the corner of the room, curled up and pulling at his hair while he watches.
- - -
Adam gets another lecture about that. He seethes with anger, wants to jump over and hurt the old man, but he holds it back, and later, when Sam finds him, he gets a long hug.
Sam's brother (Dean) and the old man (Bobby) are a lot more careful about leaving Sam and Adam on their own after that. Any time Adam is in the same room as Sam they're there. Adam hates them and he wants the time back in the cage, where it was just him and Sam. Even being in the illusions he had more time on his own with Sam. Now suddenly Adam is just one part of Sam's life, whereas he used to be the center of Sam's attention. Sam told him stories about his brother but Adam never grasped until now just how much Dean means to Sam.
Dean and Bobby won't stop hovering, trying to get Sam and Adam to do things, asking them if they want this or that, what they think about this. Adam can't think. He just wants them to go away.
And they won't stop offering Sam and Adam things to "eat". Saying that they need to eat, or they'll get sick. They stop with the burnt meat at least, when Sam threw up when he actually tried to swallow some. Adam refuses it all, his skin breaking out in a cold sweat when he's presented with something to chew. They keep getting the smoothies though, a couple of big ones at a time that Adam makes last as long as possible.
At least some things are easy here. When it's light outside they stay downstairs and are asked interminable questions. When it's dark they go upstairs and Adam is left to sit in a room on his own. An unmoving routine. He's not allowed to see Sam during this time and there's always someone watching to stop him from leaving his room. Something about the darkness means he has to be on his own, and so he spends the time rocking on the floor and waiting to see Sam again.
Adam is almost reconciled to the concept that they're actually out, that it's not just an illusion. And being here, maybe out of the Cage, is at least bringing some things back. He's remembering words, some of it from hearing Dean and Bobby talk, but a lot of it just seems to pop into his head randomly, words for objects he hasn't seen for hundreds of years, had no need for.
There have been a couple of periods of darkness before Adam and Sam leave the house. They're both shepherded through the interminable morning routine: using the toilet, getting wet and then dry again, changing to a different set of clothes; before they're let downstairs. Sam is sitting next to Adam, holding his hand and rubbing it, but he's turned towards his brother listening to Dean talk about something. Adam sits by the window, eyes closed against the brightness, bathing in the warmth.
"Adam. You wanna go out?" asks Bobby, from the other side of the room.
Adam opens his eyes and just glares back, because how he is he meant to answer that?
"Damn, yeah, we need to go outside," says Dean. "It's been days. I'm getting cabin fever."
Sam nods when Dean asks him to come out. He does anything Dean asks him to, stars in his eyes as he follows his big brother around. Adam wants to refuse, they don't need to do what Dean and Bobby ask them to; they're not Lucifer and Michael, they're weak, but he wants to be with Sam, so he follows too.
It's bright outside, so bright it washes out his vision for a while. A huge white circle radiates heat above them. He walks a few steps behind Sam, holding on to his shirt. His head swims and he tugs Sam's shirt, pulling them down to kneel on the ground. He closes his eyes and pants for breath while the world tilts around him. These bouts of strange detachment have been getting more frequent.
Bobby's voice barely manages to penetrate the fuzziness in Adam's brain. "I guess we'll just put the picnic sheet here to start with."
He lays the soft sheet on the ground, a few feet from the house. They sit on it, and Adam squints at the expanse in front of them. There's brilliant blue above them, green and brown all around, and it's so beautiful: the words for these things are on the tip of his tongue but trying to remember starts a throbbing in his temples, threatening a full blown headache. His vision blurs and he sways to the side, brushing against Sam. Sam gently tugs him down until he's lying down, head resting in Sam's lap. Dean starts talking to Sam in a low voice and Adam wants to tell him to shut the fuck up, but Sam's fingers are combing through his hair, and he closes his eyes and lets his anger drain out of him.
"Hello, Adam."
Adam's eyes fly open. He's lying alone on the snow. Lucifer is standing above him, leaning over. He smiles through the flecks of blood on his face.
Adam scrambles back, rushing to get on his feet.
"Where's Sam?" His heart is pounding like it's about to burst out of his mouth.
Lucifer tsks. "So disobedient. You haven't even been gone that long."
"Sam. Please." Adam's voice is cracked, on the edge of tears.
Lucifer gestures behind him carelessly. "Don't worry. I'm taking good care of Sam. You didn't think I'd let him go, did you?"
Adam looks over, eyes drawn to the trickle of crimson through the snow, the crimson that keeps coming until it's a river of red gushing through the snow, there's so much blood, how can there be that much, he's drowning in it, sticky copper in his mouth ... Sam, where's Sam?
He bolts upright, his own shrill voice echoing in his ears. The light is blinding, and he struggles against the hands holding him, hitting out until his vision clears, and that comforting scent reaches him, and he realizes who it is.
He grabs onto Sam with both hands, pulling him in and holding him close, fists clenched on the soft flannel. His chest heaves as his lungs try to take in choking breaths, and then he's sobbing. Sam is holding him tight, hands brushing his hair and stroking his back, trying to calm him down.
"Don't let me go back, please, don't let me go, Sam."
He can't stop his frantic pleas. His skin is cold and sweaty, he feels like he's going to puke up his organs. Lucifer had him, for just a moment-he reached out and pulled Adam and Sam back in, they're not safe.
"You're safe. Adam, what's wrong, tell me."
Adam shakes his head, rubbing his face in Sam's shirt until his skin is tingling and he feels like he can breathe again. He hides his face there, in the crook of Sam's neck, letting the rhythmic motion of Sam's hands stroking up and down his back quieten his shaking, until finally he can talk.
"Lucifer. He pulled us back there … he had you."
"Adam, I've been here. Nothing happened, you were lying down for a while and then you started screaming."
Adam shakes his head, his stomach dropping hard.
"Whoa, wait, I think I get what's going on," says Sam's brother, and Adam glances over. "It was just a dream. It's not real."
Adam flicks his eyes at Sam and back to Dean, says nothing.
"A dream. You know what that is, right? When you're asleep?"
Sam shakes his head silently, holds Adam. Dean swears, and presses his fist to his mouth, closes his eyes for a second.
"Jesus Christ," he says. "What the fuck-"
- - -
The long explanation Bobby gives does nothing to calm Adam down. So sometimes when he's asleep he'll see things, and it'll feel like it's real, but it's definitely not. And it's probably going to happen again-he can't do anything to stop it, because he needs to sleep or he'll get sick. Adam isn't entirely convinced the whole thing isn't a new illusion to torture them. He can't trust any of Dean and Bobby's reassurances that they're safe anymore, not when he can be taken away at any time, to a place that maybe isn't real but still feels like it.
Sam keeps his arms wrapped around Adam the whole time. It should be comforting but Adam can't stop the intermittent shaking of his body, the way all his muscles refuse to relax, and how his eyes keep darting around, looking for the hand of Lucifer to pull him back down there. Dean and Bobby try to make him drink his smoothie when it's time for bed but just smelling it makes him gag, and the only thing he can swallow is a few mouthfuls of water.
And then it gets dark, and the murkiness seems to wash in close and suffocate him, hardly chased off by the false pockets of light from inside. Sam and Adam are shepherded through the evening routine, a tiring repeat of the morning routine, and when it's over they're led to their separate rooms.
He sits on the bed instead of lying down, and stares at the wall. He can't concentrate on anything, his mind feels slippery and loose, like a detached liver slopping around in an abdominal cavity. He thinks he can hear whispering, Lucifer's silken voice in his ears, but there's nothing there when he turns around. The hanging star by the window spins around slowly from an invisible breeze.
The world starts to unfocus and turn gray, and for a second he loses himself. He jerks his head back up, heart beating a frantic rhythm. He'd almost slipped back there, "fallen asleep".
He can still hear sounds from the hallway: someone going through their own evening routine, and he's wishing they would hurry up so he can try sneaking in to Sam's room when suddenly he hears tortured and terrified screaming.
He's out of his room and in Sam's in less than a heartbeat. Sam is tangled up in his covers, eyes squeezed tightly shut, face contorted in a hideous mask of pain as he screams. Adam jumps on the bed, grabs him by the shoulders, and shakes and shakes him-he's not going to let Lucifer take Sam: come back, please. Sam's head hits the headboard of the bed hard and his eyes burst open. He takes in a deep breath like he's been drowning and grabs at Adam like he's the one thing keeping him afloat.
"Sammy!"
It's Sam's brother rushing in, Bobby right behind him. He comes in so fast he almost runs into the bed frame. He kneels beside the bed, reaches out-and Sam flinches back, eyes wide in an animal-like fear. His hands dig into Adam's arms and he backs away against the wall, legs scrabbling like he's trying to melt through the solid bricks.
"Sammy, hey, stay calm. It's okay," says Dean, taking a step back, voice low and soothing.
Adam ignores him. Sam isn't seeing Dean, not really-his mind is still dripping with the detritus of Lucifer's cage. Adam pulls his hands slowly free of Sam's grip and cradles Sam's face, directing his gaze to his face with the lightest touch. Sam's frightened eyes meet his for a second before darting away, drawn by something only he can see.
Adam starts talking softly, a low murmur of comforting sound. "Look at me, yeah, don't pay attention to anything else. I'm here, I've got you, I won't let him take you. Sam, it's me, I'll protect you, okay, don't look at anything else, it's not real, I'm the only thing here-"
Eventually Sam's breathing slows from the previous pained hyperventilation, and he meets Adam's eyes. Adam smiles.
"There we are. I'm here. You okay?"
Sam moves his head in an infinitesimal nod, chin brushing against Adam's palms. Adam brings his hands down, releasing Sam's face before picking up one of his hands and squeezing it.
"What did you see?" he asks.
- - -
It takes a while for Sam to drag out the words for what happened-being back in the cage, Lucifer pulling Adam apart, forcing Sam to watch, and then making Sam hurt Adam. Adam listens while holding Sam's hands-a soft touch to keep Sam anchored here. Dean listens for the beginning but at some point his face turns white and he leaves. He returns at the end of the story, when Sam has stopped talking and is just collapsed against Adam, head resting on Adam's shoulder.
Dean's hair is slightly wet and sticking up, the skin around his eyes pink. "I need to talk to Sam," he says shortly. "Get back to your room and get some rest."
Adam clenches Sam's palm hard. "No," he spits out.
Dean raises his eyebrows. "Get out and leave me to talk with my brother."
Adam's blood churns and words pour out of him. "I'm not doing anything, you hairless, goat-fathered abomination!"
"Adam," Sam sighs. "I'll be okay."
Adam spins around, locks his eyes with Sam's, asking a dozen questions without words. Sam just nods, and Adam's stomach sinks. His mouth feels like dust but he kneels forward in the bed, curls his arms around Sam, holding him for a long moment before he gets up and leaves the room.
He hears low voices from the room as the door closes, and the humiliation follows him all the way to his room.
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