Fic: Inosulation of Two Souls 1/3 (Supernatural)
Title: Inosculation of Two Souls
Author:
rirren
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Adam, Sam
Pairing: Sam/Adam
Word Count: ~8,000
Genre: angst, smut, dark
Content notes: noncon, bad guys made them do it, codependency, mental instability, unhealthy relationships
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.
- - -
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger".
What a load of bullshit. Nothing can kill them in here. They're going to live forever. But everything Sam and Adam go through chips away at them. Adam can see it. Whenever Sam makes it through another round of torture his soul is slimmer and diminished, worn away by the ordeal. He is less the man he was before, less happy, less confident, less sure of himself and the world, less in every way. And if it keeps going there will be nothing left of him, nothing recognizably a person, let alone the man he is.
They're both headed towards the same end, but Sam is getting there quicker.
- - -
The angels mostly leave him alone. Michael sees him as nothing more than a useless human, a poor replacement for the real Righteous Man. Lucifer is far too occupied with fighting his old rival Michael or punishing Sam for locking them in here, but he attacks Adam if he sees him-taking out his anger on a new soul is always entertaining to him.
But when the four of them fell together, Adam was caught up in the angels' rage, both of them lashing out, furious at being trapped, tricked by a human. His body would first be burnt down to weeping muscle by the searing heat of Michael, then frozen by the icy cold of Lucifer. Again and again. Those first years were full of pain beyond anything he had ever experienced, and he begged and screamed for an end, but to no avail.
When at last he gets out of the epicenter of Lucifer and Michael's rage, he runs as far as he can, seeking out a way out. But whichever direction he goes always leads him back to where he came. He's an ant running on a giant ball, never able to leave it. He skirts the edges, staying as far away as he can but he either runs too fast or not fast enough, and the screams and the horrible wet ripping sounds inevitably find him again.
His body is a terrifying burnt monstrosity; his skin cracks every time he moves, bone and muscle exposed and weeping pus. He can barely process what he's become; he would weep but his eyelids and tear glands have been burnt away.
After some time, to his shock, his body actually begins to heal, not scar tissue but new skin eventually growing back, pink and perfect and beautiful. He doesn't know if he's actually dead or not-it feels too concretely painful for existence as only a soul, but he's survived things that would have killed his body a thousand times over.
He spends the next ... years? Decades? ... period of time like this-on his own, moving when he needs to, lying down and resting when he can. He doesn't need to sleep, or eat, or shit, but pain and exhaustion are still present, even down here. His soul feels old and worn out, and he's shocked when he looks down at his hands and sees the same youthful skin he had when he was pulled down here.
He's been dead before, and he wonders if he can make things happen with his mind, the same way he could in Heaven. He tries conjuring up things with just a thought, but nothing happens. There are no easy shortcuts in Hell.
He curses the angels for lying to him: Sam, Dean and his no-good absent father for involving him in their family's mess, and God for leaving him in here. He prays under his breath, huddled up as he tries to hide-Please let me out, I didn't do anything, you can leave Sam, just let me out, I'll be good-and several times tries to convince himself that none of this is real, he's still just asleep at home, safe in his bed.
Time passes. Lucifer's tactics seem to have changed. The uncontrolled rage from the beginning has dissipated; something more controlled has replaced it. Adam ventures a little closer.
Lucifer is bent over something. He still has the appearance of his true vessel, but he seems taller with harsher lines, and a glow emanates from his skin that stings Adam's eyes to look at. His bare feet are wet, splashed with red from the puddle he's standing in. Adam's eyes track down to the mass under his hands, his undergraduate medical knowledge picking out something that looks like a patella, an inflamed slice of sinew … he shuts his eyes when he realizes what he's looking at.
"Come on, Sam, just talk to me. I love hearing your voice."
There's a horrible wet gasp, and a choked cry that is quickly swallowed. Lucifer tuts in disappointment.
Adam runs when Lucifer starts on something that makes Sam's sobbing breaths cut off into a wordless keen that quickly rises. It echoes in Adam's mind when he's finally away.
Stupid, idiotic hero Sam was still resisting.
- - -
The cold void of the Cage changed at some point-he doesn't know when-to something more familiar: freezing snow under his bare feet, wind blowing shards of ice in his face. It's sloped like a mountaintop, or maybe a ravine, but it's difficult to see with the blizzard of ice and murky light. He wonders if the increasing cold means Lucifer has gained the upper hand over Michael.
Inevitably, he accidentally wanders close enough to hear clearly.
"No, no, take it out! Please, please, don't-I'll do it. Yes!"
"Yes?" A laugh-Lucifer's voice twisting in the air like smoke. "It's too late for that, Sam. You missed your chance."
"S-stop! Please-I'll do anything-"
"Don't you understand yet? There's nothing that will stop this, no deal we can make. You're not getting an out like Dean had. It's this for eternity."
- - -
Sam has given in.
Adam is talking to his mum, imagining a conversation as he often does. Maybe it's a healthy way to cope with the isolation, or maybe it's the first sign of him losing his mind.
"He can't hold on forever, Adam."
"I know he can't, mom."
"He's out there, distracting Satan to protect you."
"Like fuck he is. This is all his fault. And besides, if he's given in, he's not protecting me. He'll give me up to stop the pain."
Maybe his mom wouldn't respond like that, maybe she'd say that he needs to look out for himself first: but Adam's tired of this suddenly. He's talking to no-one except himself, all his lines clever and made-up so he always wins the argument.
- - -
God can go fuck himself. There is no fucking God.
Michael caught up with Adam, furious for some unfathomable reason. He pulled Adam apart, and violated him, hissing that God was punishing Adam, that Adam was an abomination and that this was what he, and all of humankind, deserved.
Adam spits blood on the snow, sneers, and limps along, his crushed knee not letting him go faster than a shuffle.
Michael is wrong. God isn't punishing him. God isn't doing anything because there is no God. Evil does evil and there's no Almighty to save them.
Adam trips and falls hard. He snarls and punches the ground. His fist hits a rock buried underneath and the sharp pain makes him scream in frustration. And all of a sudden he's sobbing and crying for his mom, for his deadbeat dad, for God. But there's no-one and that just makes him cry even harder, his chest filling with it until he can barely breathe.
"Adam? Adam!"
Then there are arms around him, the smell of another human, warmth-and Adam is getting snot and tears all over Sam but he can't stop himself.
"I want to go home," he says, over and over again.
"I know. I'm sorry, fuck I'm sorry, Adam."
Sam's voice has tears in it as well and they’re clinging to each other, both fucking wrecks. And Adam was wrong really. Because there is still someone.
- - -
"Why did you have to do it?" asks Adam.
He's sitting down, leaning against Sam, worn-out and empty from his earlier tears.
"They were going to kill everyone." Sam's voice is tired and his eyes stare blankly at the whirling snow around them.
"Eternal paradise for everyone? Sounds better than this."
Sam sighs. "Yeah, if Michael won." He shivers in the cold, skin tensing over bony ribs and Adam huddles in closer. "You were never meant to end up here," says Sam. "I was supposed to be the only one to take the fall."
"I wish you had," Adam mumbles, and it's cruel, but he hates Sam for this.
"I'm sorry," is all Sam can say.
- - -
Michael and Lucifer's fight is getting closer and Sam says he has to go. Adam hates him and wants him back in equal measures. He runs like a coward, until he can't hear Michael and Lucifer tearing Sam apart.
He doesn't see Sam for a long time after that.
- - -
Somehow it's worse, having had that human contact and lost it again. He's reminded what it was like not to be in constant pain. He’s always on his own now. He thinks about his mother, and how he used to pretend to be sick so she would take time off work and they could hang around the house and watch their favorite movies together. Little things that he took for granted back then, because he knew life was hard but he thought there was always a bright side, something that made existence worthwhile.
He doesn't know how long it's been, but he's sure he's spent more time in this hell than he ever lived on earth. All the compassion and empathy has been sucked out of him, and all he can do is sneer at his past self for believing anything as naive as 'every cloud has a silver lining'.
- - -
"Adam! Adam!"
It sounds like Sam's voice but he knows it's not. There's a coldness to it, a silky smoothness that makes Adam's skin goose-pimple.
Adam's running through the snow-it's so cold he's not sure if he's freezing or burning, and it's just getting colder: he knows what that means. His frostbitten feet split down the soles a hundred steps back, and he's leaving a trail of blood.
When he falls into a snowdrift he doesn't try to get up, but starts digging down, until he's made himself a cave. He curls up, holding his numb feet, and begs in his head-go after Sam instead, please Sam don't let him get me, distract him, please.
It's silent except for his harsh breathing, but that doesn't mean anything. Lucifer only makes sound when he chooses to.
A hand bursts through from the ceiling of his cave and Adam screams. A moment later and he's pulled out, kicking wildly. Lucifer's holding Adam by his throat and he's so damn tall that Adam's a good couple of inches off the ground. It's not like any of them can die in here, but the crushing of his windpipe has Adam in an instinctual panic, and all he can do is claw at the big hand around his throat and stare at that familiar face.
"I hear you and Sam had a touching moment. Care to visit him again?"
Lucifer throws him down on the snow that is suddenly hard as ice-Adam feels something crack-and starts dragging him away. Absolute terror is preventing Adam from doing anything to try and escape. His thoughts are a panicked blur of begging and cursing everyone, including Sam.
After an eternity of terror, Lucifer pulls Adam forward and kicks him, making him roll over. The snow is soaked with blood and Sam is lying on his back on the ground in front of him. Stakes through his limbs pin him to the ground. Adam can't read Sam's expression at all.
Lucifer ignores Adam, walking over to Sam and speaking directly to him.
"You've been boring me, Sam. It's no fun if you just roll over and take it. So here's a new game. I'm going to rape your dear little brother here, hard and brutal, or you will."
Adam's stomach drops. Sam glances at Adam before looking back at Lucifer.
"Lucifer, please, I-I can fight you if that's what you want. Just tell me what you want and I'll do it."
"And that's exactly why you're not doing it for me anymore," says Lucifer dismissively.
He steps towards Adam, who crawls back with a whimper.
"Don't touch him, please!"
Lucifer stops, turns around. "There's only one way for you to stop this, Sam," he says, eyebrows raised.
Sam's eyes flick between Lucifer and Adam and his mouth opens but his voice is frozen. Lucifer's eyes roll in disdain and then there's a cold grip around Adam's arm-he's right in Adam's space-and Adam screams.
"Wait!" he hears Sam say, and the grip is miraculously lessening. "I'll-I'll do it."
Lucifer moves behind Adam, still holding onto him, leaving him with a view of the stakes from Sam's limbs dissolving. Sam pushes himself up unsteadily, his gaping wounds knitting themselves together as Adam watches. His eyes were weak and defeated before, but now they are pure resolve. Adam tries to pull away but Lucifer is holding onto his arm with a grip of steel.
"Don't-!" Adam shrieks-he barely recognizes his own voice.
Sam doesn't flinch, keeps walking steadily towards him and then grabs Adam's flailing arm, pressing down on his wrist, the pain forcing Adam to his knees. Lucifer lets go, standing back to watch in amusement. Sam twists Adam's arm around his back and his other hand presses down hard on his shoulders, pushing Adam to lie face first on the ground. Adam struggles as much as he can, but Sam is an immovable force.
"Fuck you, Sam!" he screams. "Fuck you!"
One of his kicks lands, and he hears Sam grunt in pain, though his grip never falters. Sam doesn't stop until he's lying fully on top of Adam, his weight pinning him down.
"Stop it, stop it, Adam," Sam barks harshly.
Adam wriggles as much as he can. His arm feels like it's going to break in this position and he tries to pull away. Every inch of Sam's naked chest is touching his back, sticky blood smearing all over his skin, and he can't get away from that touch. One of Sam's hands slips further down, and then his right arm is only held down by the pressure of Sam's body. He pulls his arm free, lashing out and sinking his nails into the side of Sam's face, aiming for his eyes.
Sam yells out, jerking back when the sharp edge of Adam's ragged nails get too close-this is Adam's chance!-and then a pair of freezing cold hands lock around his arms, trapping them against the hard ice. Lucifer crouches down and cocks his head with amusement as he watches.
Adam is trapped like a butterfly with a pin through its back.
He can feel Sam's harsh breath on the back of his neck, as he rests his forehead there and pants. Adam can't stop his body from shaking minutely, and he doesn’t know why he's reacting like this after everything that has already been done to him here.
For several seconds no-one moves; Adam is pinned by the two of them-no amount of squirming will free him from the man at his back and the not-man crouching in front of him. Then he feels Sam moving against his back, propping himself up on one hand and parting Adam's legs.
He can feel a rigid object pressing against his hole; he can't get away, and Sam keeps up the pressure until something gives and the head is inside. Just the tip, but it burns, dry and tight.
A strangled scream rips out of his throat. "Fuck you! I hate you, I hate you!"
He hears Sam muttering pleas into his tangled hair, "Stop fighting, Adam, please," and the pained edge to his voice makes Adam furious at the self-centered bastard. How dare he pretend he's feeling even a fraction of Adam's pain, when he's the one responsible for it.
He tries to inch away but arms wrap around Adam's waist, pulling him onto Sam’s cock, exquisite pain burying deeper into him. Sam doesn't stop despite the friction, slowly impaling Adam, until finally it's resting fully inside Adam, and he can feel Sam's hips against his ass. All movement stops. He can feel the length inside him, a heartbeat against his fragile insides, and the rising and falling of Sam's chest against his back. His face burns and he squeezes his eyes shut, clenches his fists.
Lucifer caresses Adam's wrists in his grip, and then Sam pulls back, the dry skin inside burning and resisting any movement, and slams back in. An involuntary noise comes from between Adam's clenched teeth, and even though he knows it's useless, his legs scrabble in an attempt to get away.
Sam keeps it up, a steady workmanlike rhythm-in, out-like he's on automatic. Adam can hear his pants in his ear, the hot breath fluttering his hair, and he hates it all so much. He keeps his mouth shut despite the mounting pain, but when he feels something tear inside, his shoulders start to shake with repressed sobs, and he tucks his face away against the cold ice.
It goes on for what feels like forever, until finally Lucifer says, "It won't end until you finish, Sam."
Sam pauses, his chest moving away from Adam's back as he presumably looks at his doppelganger.
"Is your imagination failing you? The fact that you're fucking your baby brother isn't enough to get you off?"
There's nothing but silence as Adam regulates his breathing, grateful for the break from the pain. And then Sam lowers himself again, a sudden violent snap of his hips that sinks his cock deep inside Adam. He's relentless now, vicious thrusts, one hand on the back of Adam's neck pushing his face down, the other gripping his hip, nails biting. It's too much, and Adam can't hold it in anymore. It pours out of him in choked sobs that make him feel like he's drowning. The grunts from behind him just make it worse because that's Sam getting closer to orgasm, that's Sam enjoying this.
It stings when Sam finishes inside, like acid flooding his insides. Sam's chest heaves behind him, and he can feel sweat and blood sticking them together, and he's never hated someone more than he does now. When Sam pulls out and Lucifer releases his hands he turns around, his vision tunneling as he throws his fists into weak flesh. He thinks he's yelling something but he's nothing but a conduit for this rage, all he can do is release it.
He comes to sucking in harsh breaths, standing over the crumpled figure below him. His knuckles sting, blood pearling over scuffed-off skin, and his entire body aches. He can't even recognize Sam's face underneath all the blood. He feels like he's going to throw up.
Sam stirs on the ground, eyes rolling, and Lucifer starts to laugh.
- - -
Lucifer tries to make them do it again, and Sam refuses. And then for a time Adam is Lucifer's.
Sam doesn’t refuse again after that.
- - -
The newest illusion is Adam's college room, the one he only stayed in for a few short weeks before everything ended. There are two beds: one his own, the other for his roommate. The room is perpetually messy, but he never sees his roommate. He's been alone in this illusion for a while. Lucifer is letting him get used to it, to set the scene properly. He's been to the library, walked around the campus. There's nothing new in the books, nothing he didn't already know. He gets a headache when he tries to read too much, the words sliding away into descriptions that squirm into his brain, that couldn't possibly be what medical textbooks are really like.
He doesn't like leaving his room too often and seeing other people, people he knows aren't real. It doesn't feel like an actual college with people living their lives; it feels more like the idea of college, of shining university prospectus photos brought into motion.
He lies back on the bed, squirming restlessly as the rough material of his jeans rubs against his skin. That's another thing he's not used to: wearing clothes. He struggled to remember how to put them on at first, and he quickly became irritated at how restrictive they felt, and how difficult it was to move around. He swears that Lucifer might have even made them out of extra itchy material, because he can't understand how he managed to wear clothes every day feeling like this.
He punches the bed and lets out a breath of air before bringing his hand up and looking at it. That was one thing he learned before he died-the names of bones, from the few classes of Anatomy 101 he attended. He taps his wrist, feeling the delicate bones underneath as he goes from lateral to medial.
Scaphoid. Lunate. Triquetrum. Pisiform. Trapezium. Trapezoid. Capitate. Hamate.
Some Lovers Try Positions That They Can't Handle.
He repeats it for a while, then tries the bones in his arm. He learned them, he's sure he did, but the names are out of his grasp, like they never existed.
He sighs, and closes his eyes.
He doesn't know how long he lies there before he feels that nudge in his mind, a reminder that the show is starting soon. There's a knock at the door and he sits up. Sam is there when he opens the door, hunched over with some awful jacket with elbow patches on. He's a TA at the same university as Adam. It makes these trysts easier.
"Hey, come in, my roommate's out," says Adam, as he shuts the door behind Sam.
Sam takes off his jacket, closes the curtains. He sits on the bed next to Adam, uncomfortably close.
"How's your studying going? Have you got any plans for the break?" he asks, with wooden delivery. It's kind of funny how terrible he is at acting.
Adam slides his hand over, cupping the bulge in Sam's pants. "Did you really come here to ask about my studying?"
Sam grabs Adam's hand. "I'm sorry. This has gone on long enough. I don't want to mess you up. We shouldn't do this."
"I don't care what they think. They don't understand us. Can it really be wrong if it feels this good?"
Adam presses down hard on Sam's erection as he delivers that ridiculous line. Lucifer loves these stupid melodrama settings, especially the ones that dwell on how sick and wrong incest is.
Sam bucks up, moans Adam's name, before reaching over and cupping Adam's face, kissing him gently.
Adam tries to keep his face as neutral as possible. He hates this pretend affectionate crap and he hates being touched like this-soft, like Sam hasn't already raped him dozens of times.
Sam pulls off their clothes, breaking the kiss and coming back to it, with an urgent air. Adam goes along with it. He wants it over with, but after this scenario there will just be another one, and another one. When they're both naked Sam pulls Adam onto his lap, making him kneel up a little so he can suck at his nipples. They both ignore Adam's soft cock; he's never hard, and Sam has at least stopped trying to get him to respond like that.
Adam stares at the wall over Sam's head, at the poster of the circulatory system he put up there, a reminder of the dreams he'd once had. He winces when a slick finger prods between his legs. He loops his arms around Sam's shoulder, squeezes his eyes shut and tries to stay still while Sam opens him up. He's not ready when the fingers slide out, hands grabbing his ass to lower him down, spearing him on that thick cock.
Sam's face barely flickers when Adam sits on him fully, blank of anything but defeat and apathy. Adam feels full, his hole stretched around something that shouldn't fit-uncomfortable but not painful. Sam's efforts have at least helped with that. He wants to wait a while longer, but he feels that itch at the back of his mind again.
He doesn't like it in this position. It's better when all he has to do is lie there, or stay still. Maybe that's why Lucifer made them pick this position, where Adam is the one that has to move, lifting up and fucking himself on that hard cock over and over.
That's what pushes Adam over the edge. This is all he has anymore: bouncing on his brother's cock in a fake college room for the devil's amusement. This is his life now, because he trusted the wrong people, because he had the bad luck of being related to the Winchesters. Tears start to slip down his nose, but he can't stop. He has to keep moving, keep this illusion going, because as bad as this is, the alternative is even worse.
Sam's eyes snap out of his unfocused gaze, and he touches Adam's face, looking alarmed.
"Hey, Adam, hey, what is it? Am I hurting you?"
Adam shakes his head. "F-Fuck you. You think I wanted this for my life? What, what the fuck did I do to deserve-?"
He can't talk anymore, and Sam looks devastated, which is fucking ridiculous considering the position they're in now. He loops his arms around Adam, brings Adam in close so he can cry on Sam's neck, but he carries on rocking his hips into Adam, because they still have to keep this farce up.
And Adam still hates Sam, still hates everything, but ... he's not immune to the calming effect of human touch. He lets everything out, cries his guts out into Sam's neck until he feels empty and exhausted. Sam kisses his hair, murmuring comforting words, and Adam clings back.
- - -
It gets easier every time Lucifer makes them do it, and then Adam climaxes for the first time.
They’re in bed together, covers hiding them, though if anyone came in the room it wouldn't hide the truth of what they're doing. There's a gentle wash of conversation: his mother and father talking downstairs as they do the dishes. Sam's brother is here, too, in the next room, flat out on the bed from the beer he'd been drinking while watching the game.
Sam is close behind him, big cock thrusting in and out of his hole while Adam tries to muffle himself with his hand. Sam's thigh is wedged in between Adam's legs, his fist around Adam's dick, his body hot against his back. He can feel sweat slicking the sheets, but his feet are starting to go numb from the cold outside of the covers. He feels safe here, Sam's body covering him, protecting him.
Each smooth slide in and out brushes against his prostate, sending shocks of pleasure through his body. His cock is hard, that much has happened before, but Sam's hand around it feels more urgent than comforting, like the pleasure is leading somewhere this time. He clenches his hole around the hard dick holding him open, and rocks his hips involuntarily at the spark that produces. He wants to tell Sam to go faster, but they have to be quiet, can't let anyone see the dirty sinful things they do. So he just pushes his ass back against Sam's crotch, and fuck yes, Sam's hips start doing some swivel thing, and it feel like he's being massaged from the inside so good … and then he's clenching down, spurting out his orgasm onto the sheets while he shoves his knuckles into his mouth to stifle his moans.
It feels like his whole being is bathed in pleasure in the aftershocks, body going limp while Sam speeds up his thrusting behind him, wringing out the last bits of pleasure from Adam's over-sensitized passage before stiffening and burying his face in Adam's neck while his cock pumps out his release inside.
- - -
Lucifer tries other scenes, an endless parade of worlds where Sam and Adam are humiliated over and over, Lucifer's imagination knowing no bounds.
Adam is dressed in some stupid dress with an apron. He's lying back on the kitchen table while Sam drills into him with steady, slow strokes. "Fuck your wife, Sam," Lucifer laughs.
Adam's sitting on Sam's cock at the dinner table. His mom is there, pouring out her coffee and calling Adam disgusting, filthy, his own brother, how could he, and Adam burns with embarrassment. Sam places his hand in Adam's hair, turning his face to hide in Sam's shoulder.
Sam fucks Adam over the hood of that car, the vintage black one. The metal is covered in ice, it sticks to the skin of Adam's stomach, pulling painfully and ripping.
His old friends from high school laugh at Adam, gathered in a circle around the two of them. Their faces are indistinct-there's that brown-haired guy he used to hang out with. What was his name? Sam pushes Adam's head down and makes him take his cock until he chokes.
It never stops, and Adam just wants it to end. But he can't even conceive of anything different; it feels like this has been his whole life, nothing but humiliation and fucking and Sam.
He tries to disconnect from what’s happening and escape to his mind and memories but he can't remember what really happened and what didn't-Did his mom and dad live together? He and Sam always had this secret thing going on, right? Sometimes he feels like he's just making up nice stories instead of truly remembering things.
The illusions feel stranger and stranger, a sense of unreality that he can't identify or describe. No-one except his mom and Sam's brother has a face anymore, the scenes are full of objects with seemingly no purpose, and there's snow and ice everywhere.
Then Lucifer makes Adam fuck Sam. He laughs at the comical size difference, the way Adam doesn't quite know how to position Sam. The snow covering the bed is soft as Adam parts Sam's legs and shuffles forward. He pushes in slowly, fisting the base of his cock, and inhales sharply through clenched teeth at the burn.
Sam squeezes his eyes shut, and turns his head to the side. He looks pale and tired, and Adam raises a shaky hand to just barely skim the length of his thigh, feeling the soft hairs under his fingers. He doesn't want to hurt Sam.
He thrusts forward experimentally, the motion sending Sam's body sliding back. Sam's brow creases and his fists clench in the snow.
"How does little bro's baby cock feel?" asks Lucifer, coming up to stand next to Sam, leaning over them with a leer on his face. "You can barely feel it, right? Is it even in?"
He laughs, contorting Sam's features into something ugly. Adam bends down, his arms bracketing Sam's body. He leans forward a little bit so he's face to face with Sam, the movement tilting Sam's hips back. Sam's eyes crack open a slit and he brings his legs up and around Adam's body.
Adam brushes Sam's hair behind his ears, close enough that he can feel Sam's breath. He keeps his eyes locked with Sam as he moves, trying to keep Sam's attention off the laughing specter next to them. It's easier now, slick inside, and hot. It feels different than being fucked, more immediate, his whole cock throbbing with pleasure. It almost feels like he isn't controlling the strokes in and out, like he's being pulled in by the lure of Sam's body, unable to bear being out of that wonderful tight space for too long.
His belly brushes Sam's cock on one particularly deep thrust. It's hard, sticky precome smearing on him. Sam bites his lip, eyes closing momentarily, and color rises in his cheeks. The sight makes something deep inside Adam glow. He pulls out almost to the tip and then buries himself in sharply on the next stroke. Sam lets out an involuntary grunt, and he can't believe he's making Sam feel this.
"Oh, look at you. You're really getting into it." Lucifer sounds incredulous. "All this time fucking your little brother when really, all you wanted was a cock in you. You slut."
Adam kisses Sam, dropping down so there's no space between their bodies, skin slick-sliding together, his hips moving in frenetic shallow thrusts. Sam's hands come up to hold on to Adam's shoulders as they kiss. Sam is clenching around Adam's cock, squeezing sparks of ecstasy that make Adam jerk, and he can't get enough of the sounds Sam is making.
Sam writhes underneath Adam, and then he arches up, mouth pulling away as he cries out. He clenches around Adam and Adam realizes Sam has just come. He snaps his hips forward, and drops his head down onto Sam's hard chest. He buries himself again and again in Sam, his balls tightening painfully, until finally he's coming, squirming and grinding into the body underneath him.
He collapses on top of Sam, feeling like his whole self has been emptied. He rests his head on Sam's chest, cheek pressed against hard bone, and pants, breathing in the scent of Sam's sweat. It feels good, a warm body under him, his cock throbbing with the last echoes of pleasure.
Then icy hands grab him, pull him away and throw him to the ground. He gasps at the shock of cold on his back.
Lucifer sneers down at him. "How touching. Excuse me while I borrow your 'lover' for a while."
Adam glances over at Sam-he's still lying on the ground, frozen, his expression starting to go blank in that way Adam hates-and he pushes himself up. Lucifer's face hardens, and a moment later Adam is flying back, crashing through snow and ice until he finally skids to a stop.
He sits up. There is a long smear of red in the ice in front of him. His back stings and he can feel blood dripping down his skin. There is nothing but white as far as he can see.
Snow starts to fall softly.
- - -
He walks. He tries to find his way back to Sam but he never gets close. He feels like maybe he's trapped in a snow-globe, or maybe he's the only one left in this Hell.
He remembers he used to talk to his mom when he was alone and he tries that again. But he's lost her voice, and when he tries to conjure it up, it doesn't feel real to him anymore. He cries because he's lost so much, without even noticing when it happened. She was important to him; he thinks the reason he's here is because of his love for her, but his sorrow feels fake: he doesn't remember her enough to mourn her.
She looked after him. But Sam does that for him now. And Adam looks after Sam. They're all each other has.
So he talks to Sam.
Sam is reassuring and kind and funny and listens to whatever Adam says. When Adam is sick of walking he curls up in the snow, wraps his arms around himself and imagines that Sam is cradling him like that. Sometimes when Adam is lying there, he imagines Sam whispering in his ear all the things he wants to do to Adam, and Adam touches himself until he comes.
Time stretches on. His life on earth feels like a long-faded dream. If his existence has been a long stretch into infinity, earth would be perhaps the length of his little toe. It doesn't define him anymore.
The ache of Sam's absence never really fades entirely, even as Adam loses more of himself to the march of time. The loneliness strips him down until his longing is a weeping wound. If Lucifer came back to offer Adam the chance to spend the rest of eternity being tortured by Sam, he would take it, if only to feel Sam's hands on his skin again.
He's collapsed on the ice, alone, crying bitterly, when he hears it. An explosion of sound: rumbles like thunder and shrieks like glass shattering. He looks up and sees many-colored lights on the horizon.
It can only be Michael and Lucifer. And that means Sam might be free.
He gets up and starts running, getting as close to the raging tornado of ice and flame as he dares. He finds Sam buried under a snow drift, only his mangled hand sticking out. He pulls out the frozen body and starts to drag Sam away. By the time he's far enough out of range of the archangels that he feels safe, Sam's frost-bitten extremities have warmed up to a more healthy-looking pink.
He lets Sam drop to the ground, and starts scrambling in the snow, digging out a hole in the snow drift. He compacts the snow together until it's hard and durable, a small cave just big enough for two. Then he squirms out and pulls Sam in. He fills the entrance with packed snow, sealing them in fully.
Sam is lying on his back, his eyes blank and unfocused. Adam crawls in beside him, pulls Sam onto his side and hugs himself around Sam, tucking Sam's hands in between their chests to warm them up.
It's been so long that his mental image of Sam has deteriorated. When he looks at Sam now he can see tiny details he forgot. Individually, they seemed insignificant, but when added together, they made Sam more real, a person, and more beautiful than anything his mind could have imagined.
He nestles in against Sam's throat, looking up at the snow ceiling above them. Light is shining through, the packed snow giving it a blue tinge. He can feel the air in the shelter warming up from the heat of their bodies. For the first time in forever he feels safe.
Sam stirs against him. He murmurs Adam's name and snuggles in closer. Adam hides a smile in Sam's chest.
They lie there in silence for a while before Sam says in a whisper, "Are you okay?"
Adam tilts his head up, Sam's eyes are closed, his face drawn and pale with a sickly blue tinge from the light.
"Of course. I'm fine. What about you?"
Sam just makes an ambiguous grunt.
"I missed you," says Adam.
Sam sighs. "Yeah, me too."
There's silence for a while. Sam resting, and Adam just letting himself indulge in it all, being together again. Then he starts talking, slowly.
"I think, before, when I was on my own, I talked to my mom. And I tried again this time, but I couldn't-I think I've forgotten a lot about her. But I remember it was like this with her … safe. Did you know her?"
Sam shakes his head, his chin brushing against the top of Adam's head, ruffling his hair. "Sorry … I remember my brother though."
The word sparks recognition in Adam. He looks up at Sam, who's staring into space. "… We're brothers, right?"
Sam nods.
"So my mom is yours too?"
Sam frowns. "No, I don't think that's right."
"Then how are we brothers?"
There's silence while Sam thinks. "I don't remember," he says eventually.
Adam sighs and cuddles in closer. "I don't want him to take you again. Why the fuck can't it be like this forever? It was like this with mom, why did it have to change?"
"I'm sorry," says Sam in a strangled voice, and Adam looks up in alarm.
"Why are you apologizing?"
"I think this is all my fault." Sam has closed his eyes; his lower lips trembles before he bites it firmly.
Adam looks down. Maybe that's true. He can't remember. He doesn't know what to say so he just squeezes in closer to Sam, holding him. He crooks his head back down in Sam's chest and sighs. After all this time on his own it feels amazing to have someone close to him who doesn't want to hurt him. Sam's body is so warm, so beautiful in contrast to all this cold. He brushes his hands up and down Sam's back in a comforting rhythm. Sam tilts his head down so his hair just brushes against Adam's forehead, soft and silky.
Adam pushes his knee between Sam's legs, so all his body is pressed up against Sam. Sam brings his hand down and starts to trace a circle on Adam's hip.
They while away a long time like this, just pressed together, touching and caressing each other.
Adam breathes in deep, his face pressed against Sam, and then he moves his face forward, touching his lips to Sam's collarbones. He kisses Sam's skin again, and again, licks it and then sucks gently. When he pulls away there's a blossoming red circle in the skin. He bares his teeth and presses down, fitting his teeth to the outline of the bruise. Sam's breathing is heavier now, and the hand that has been stroking Adam's hip clutches at him, ragged nails stinging for a second.
Adam can feel Sam's cock rising, heavy against his stomach, and he squirms against it. His own cock is starting to stiffen as well, and suddenly he wants it so badly.
He whispers, "Sam, I want to, please, can I?"
Sam nods. Adam shifts against Sam's hard body, getting just the right angle to rub their cocks together. They move against each other, bodies writhing sinuously in and out. Color is flushing Sam's cheeks, and his mouth is half open, eyes closed, as he pants for air-Adam can't keep his eyes off the sight. He thinks maybe Sam should fuck him, or the other way around, but he doesn't want to move, doesn't want to give up this pure touching of body against body.
Time seems to stretch out as they rock together lazily, slowly, taking their time to explore each other's bodies again, for long enough that their shelter starts to heat up. Melted ice falls on Adam's cheek as he hitches his hips up, cock sliding in the groove of Sam's hip. Sam's face screws up and he pulls Adam in closer, thrusting his hips harshly, slapping their skin together. Adam lets out an involuntary whine. He's getting closer; he doesn't want it to end yet but he can't pull back from Sam.
Sam's arm flails beside him for a second, searching for something to grab, before he reaches out to Adam. He digs his fingers into the meat of Adam's ass before he comes, biting his lips to try to keep those sounds from coming out.
Adam snaps his hips forward, sliding through the slick mess on their stomachs, wet and silky perfect, and he can't keep himself from speeding up, forcing himself over the edge and coming, emptying himself all over them both.
They're both breathing heavily when it's over, chests heaving. Adam's head is spinning. His entire body tingles deliciously, every nerve sparking in the wake of a complete system overload.
Like that, held in Sam's arms, Adam drifts off, mind disconnecting from everything.
- - -
After that Sam and Adam are together for a short while.
They walk the snowy landscape, trying to stay out of reach of the archangels' battle, and shelter in dug out snow caves when they're tired. It's still Hell, Adam's body aches and freezes, but they help each other struggle along: Adam propping Sam up when he can barely walk, or Sam carrying Adam on his back.
They talk-share their thoughts, feelings, fantasies. It doesn't feel like Sam is another person anymore; he's an extension of Adam, or maybe it's the other way around.
When they're silent Adam holds Sam, or keeps some part of his body in contact with Sam-the touch giving him a shaky sense of peace and contentment, healing over the scar tissue on his soul.
His heart feels like it's going to burst out of his chest with happiness, but the distant rumbles and flashes of light mean he never forgets that this will end soon. It gives everything an urgent edge that keeps them anxious and unable to relax. They hold each other tightly when they're lying in the snow cave together and fuck often to try to relieve the nervous tension.
Adam treasures every little bit of time they have together, tries to engrave it into his memory for the bad times.
He's still not ready when that perfect time is inevitably broken.
Lucifer bursts in, shatters Sam and Adam's peace, with blood and ice and blades. Maybe Adam's been left alone for too long, has grown unused to it all, but Lucifer feels crueler. He makes Sam and Adam hurt each other, betray each other-and there is no respite like before, no domestic illusions with Sam's brother, or Adam's mom. There's nothing but the snow, the ice, and the hellish blizzard. It's unrelenting, and Adam can feel his mind slipping. He wants it to end.
Sam is up close touching Adam, who's falling apart and bleeding, when a bright light bathes the world in white. Adam shuts his eyes against it. Sam holds him closer and then he feels something pulling Sam away from him. He clings back, digs his nails into Sam's back. He won't be left on his own again. They're both pulled away, the sky flips and Adam feels like he's being pulled inside-out, squeezed through a small space. All he can hear is screaming, rushing in his ear. He holds onto the one familiar thing he has while they tumble through the abyss.
When it stops he keeps his eyes shut, pressed up against Sam. He gasps for breath and everything feels sharper, hurts in a way he's not used to. He turns his head, cracks open his eyes, squinting into the brightness. For the first time in forever, he doesn't feel that icy ache in his body.
His eyes slowly adjust. Green. A prickly sensation on his bare legs. It feels warm like when he's embraced by Sam, but everywhere. He doesn't have words for what he's seeing.
He turns his head and sees Michael is standing a few feet away. Adam freezes, even stops breathing, but when Michael walks towards him he can't take it anymore and screams. Sam reacts immediately, spinning around and pushing Adam behind him, getting up on shaky legs and holding his ground.
"Sammy," says Michael. "It's me, it's Dean. Just stay calm, okay? No-one's going to hurt you."
Sam stares at him. Michael tries for a smile. It looks strange on his face-missing those sharp edges.
"I've come to take you home. Please."
Sam edges back to Adam, almost stepping on him, before reaching a hand blindly behind him and pulling Adam up with him. Adam clings to Sam's hand. He doesn't want to go with this strange Michael, but he doesn't want to leave Sam.
Not-Michael leads them away, to where an old man is waiting by a big black thing. The old man's face is weird, full of details like the folds of skin around his eyes and the bristly hair framing his face. It's utterly different to the hazy blur that Adam is used to seeing on the faces of people in the illusions, and it makes him nervous to wonder why this character has been set apart.
The old man with the face opens up the black thing, helps them in. Inside is warm and stuffy-it seems to radiate heat. Sam crawls in after Adam, and pushes him down on the scorching black skin, covers Adam with his body. The old man drops something soft over them. There's a rumble and the whole box starts to vibrate.
It's absurd and Adam can't keep it in anymore, lets out a giggle-snort of laughter because what the fuck is this, nothing has ever been like this-hot and bright and sharp. Nothing makes sense anymore.
Next chapter
Author:
rirren
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Adam, Sam
Pairing: Sam/Adam
Word Count: ~8,000
Genre: angst, smut, dark
Content notes: noncon, bad guys made them do it, codependency, mental instability, unhealthy relationships
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.
- - -
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger".
What a load of bullshit. Nothing can kill them in here. They're going to live forever. But everything Sam and Adam go through chips away at them. Adam can see it. Whenever Sam makes it through another round of torture his soul is slimmer and diminished, worn away by the ordeal. He is less the man he was before, less happy, less confident, less sure of himself and the world, less in every way. And if it keeps going there will be nothing left of him, nothing recognizably a person, let alone the man he is.
They're both headed towards the same end, but Sam is getting there quicker.
- - -
The angels mostly leave him alone. Michael sees him as nothing more than a useless human, a poor replacement for the real Righteous Man. Lucifer is far too occupied with fighting his old rival Michael or punishing Sam for locking them in here, but he attacks Adam if he sees him-taking out his anger on a new soul is always entertaining to him.
But when the four of them fell together, Adam was caught up in the angels' rage, both of them lashing out, furious at being trapped, tricked by a human. His body would first be burnt down to weeping muscle by the searing heat of Michael, then frozen by the icy cold of Lucifer. Again and again. Those first years were full of pain beyond anything he had ever experienced, and he begged and screamed for an end, but to no avail.
When at last he gets out of the epicenter of Lucifer and Michael's rage, he runs as far as he can, seeking out a way out. But whichever direction he goes always leads him back to where he came. He's an ant running on a giant ball, never able to leave it. He skirts the edges, staying as far away as he can but he either runs too fast or not fast enough, and the screams and the horrible wet ripping sounds inevitably find him again.
His body is a terrifying burnt monstrosity; his skin cracks every time he moves, bone and muscle exposed and weeping pus. He can barely process what he's become; he would weep but his eyelids and tear glands have been burnt away.
After some time, to his shock, his body actually begins to heal, not scar tissue but new skin eventually growing back, pink and perfect and beautiful. He doesn't know if he's actually dead or not-it feels too concretely painful for existence as only a soul, but he's survived things that would have killed his body a thousand times over.
He spends the next ... years? Decades? ... period of time like this-on his own, moving when he needs to, lying down and resting when he can. He doesn't need to sleep, or eat, or shit, but pain and exhaustion are still present, even down here. His soul feels old and worn out, and he's shocked when he looks down at his hands and sees the same youthful skin he had when he was pulled down here.
He's been dead before, and he wonders if he can make things happen with his mind, the same way he could in Heaven. He tries conjuring up things with just a thought, but nothing happens. There are no easy shortcuts in Hell.
He curses the angels for lying to him: Sam, Dean and his no-good absent father for involving him in their family's mess, and God for leaving him in here. He prays under his breath, huddled up as he tries to hide-Please let me out, I didn't do anything, you can leave Sam, just let me out, I'll be good-and several times tries to convince himself that none of this is real, he's still just asleep at home, safe in his bed.
Time passes. Lucifer's tactics seem to have changed. The uncontrolled rage from the beginning has dissipated; something more controlled has replaced it. Adam ventures a little closer.
Lucifer is bent over something. He still has the appearance of his true vessel, but he seems taller with harsher lines, and a glow emanates from his skin that stings Adam's eyes to look at. His bare feet are wet, splashed with red from the puddle he's standing in. Adam's eyes track down to the mass under his hands, his undergraduate medical knowledge picking out something that looks like a patella, an inflamed slice of sinew … he shuts his eyes when he realizes what he's looking at.
"Come on, Sam, just talk to me. I love hearing your voice."
There's a horrible wet gasp, and a choked cry that is quickly swallowed. Lucifer tuts in disappointment.
Adam runs when Lucifer starts on something that makes Sam's sobbing breaths cut off into a wordless keen that quickly rises. It echoes in Adam's mind when he's finally away.
Stupid, idiotic hero Sam was still resisting.
- - -
The cold void of the Cage changed at some point-he doesn't know when-to something more familiar: freezing snow under his bare feet, wind blowing shards of ice in his face. It's sloped like a mountaintop, or maybe a ravine, but it's difficult to see with the blizzard of ice and murky light. He wonders if the increasing cold means Lucifer has gained the upper hand over Michael.
Inevitably, he accidentally wanders close enough to hear clearly.
"No, no, take it out! Please, please, don't-I'll do it. Yes!"
"Yes?" A laugh-Lucifer's voice twisting in the air like smoke. "It's too late for that, Sam. You missed your chance."
"S-stop! Please-I'll do anything-"
"Don't you understand yet? There's nothing that will stop this, no deal we can make. You're not getting an out like Dean had. It's this for eternity."
- - -
Sam has given in.
Adam is talking to his mum, imagining a conversation as he often does. Maybe it's a healthy way to cope with the isolation, or maybe it's the first sign of him losing his mind.
"He can't hold on forever, Adam."
"I know he can't, mom."
"He's out there, distracting Satan to protect you."
"Like fuck he is. This is all his fault. And besides, if he's given in, he's not protecting me. He'll give me up to stop the pain."
Maybe his mom wouldn't respond like that, maybe she'd say that he needs to look out for himself first: but Adam's tired of this suddenly. He's talking to no-one except himself, all his lines clever and made-up so he always wins the argument.
- - -
God can go fuck himself. There is no fucking God.
Michael caught up with Adam, furious for some unfathomable reason. He pulled Adam apart, and violated him, hissing that God was punishing Adam, that Adam was an abomination and that this was what he, and all of humankind, deserved.
Adam spits blood on the snow, sneers, and limps along, his crushed knee not letting him go faster than a shuffle.
Michael is wrong. God isn't punishing him. God isn't doing anything because there is no God. Evil does evil and there's no Almighty to save them.
Adam trips and falls hard. He snarls and punches the ground. His fist hits a rock buried underneath and the sharp pain makes him scream in frustration. And all of a sudden he's sobbing and crying for his mom, for his deadbeat dad, for God. But there's no-one and that just makes him cry even harder, his chest filling with it until he can barely breathe.
"Adam? Adam!"
Then there are arms around him, the smell of another human, warmth-and Adam is getting snot and tears all over Sam but he can't stop himself.
"I want to go home," he says, over and over again.
"I know. I'm sorry, fuck I'm sorry, Adam."
Sam's voice has tears in it as well and they’re clinging to each other, both fucking wrecks. And Adam was wrong really. Because there is still someone.
- - -
"Why did you have to do it?" asks Adam.
He's sitting down, leaning against Sam, worn-out and empty from his earlier tears.
"They were going to kill everyone." Sam's voice is tired and his eyes stare blankly at the whirling snow around them.
"Eternal paradise for everyone? Sounds better than this."
Sam sighs. "Yeah, if Michael won." He shivers in the cold, skin tensing over bony ribs and Adam huddles in closer. "You were never meant to end up here," says Sam. "I was supposed to be the only one to take the fall."
"I wish you had," Adam mumbles, and it's cruel, but he hates Sam for this.
"I'm sorry," is all Sam can say.
- - -
Michael and Lucifer's fight is getting closer and Sam says he has to go. Adam hates him and wants him back in equal measures. He runs like a coward, until he can't hear Michael and Lucifer tearing Sam apart.
He doesn't see Sam for a long time after that.
- - -
Somehow it's worse, having had that human contact and lost it again. He's reminded what it was like not to be in constant pain. He’s always on his own now. He thinks about his mother, and how he used to pretend to be sick so she would take time off work and they could hang around the house and watch their favorite movies together. Little things that he took for granted back then, because he knew life was hard but he thought there was always a bright side, something that made existence worthwhile.
He doesn't know how long it's been, but he's sure he's spent more time in this hell than he ever lived on earth. All the compassion and empathy has been sucked out of him, and all he can do is sneer at his past self for believing anything as naive as 'every cloud has a silver lining'.
- - -
"Adam! Adam!"
It sounds like Sam's voice but he knows it's not. There's a coldness to it, a silky smoothness that makes Adam's skin goose-pimple.
Adam's running through the snow-it's so cold he's not sure if he's freezing or burning, and it's just getting colder: he knows what that means. His frostbitten feet split down the soles a hundred steps back, and he's leaving a trail of blood.
When he falls into a snowdrift he doesn't try to get up, but starts digging down, until he's made himself a cave. He curls up, holding his numb feet, and begs in his head-go after Sam instead, please Sam don't let him get me, distract him, please.
It's silent except for his harsh breathing, but that doesn't mean anything. Lucifer only makes sound when he chooses to.
A hand bursts through from the ceiling of his cave and Adam screams. A moment later and he's pulled out, kicking wildly. Lucifer's holding Adam by his throat and he's so damn tall that Adam's a good couple of inches off the ground. It's not like any of them can die in here, but the crushing of his windpipe has Adam in an instinctual panic, and all he can do is claw at the big hand around his throat and stare at that familiar face.
"I hear you and Sam had a touching moment. Care to visit him again?"
Lucifer throws him down on the snow that is suddenly hard as ice-Adam feels something crack-and starts dragging him away. Absolute terror is preventing Adam from doing anything to try and escape. His thoughts are a panicked blur of begging and cursing everyone, including Sam.
After an eternity of terror, Lucifer pulls Adam forward and kicks him, making him roll over. The snow is soaked with blood and Sam is lying on his back on the ground in front of him. Stakes through his limbs pin him to the ground. Adam can't read Sam's expression at all.
Lucifer ignores Adam, walking over to Sam and speaking directly to him.
"You've been boring me, Sam. It's no fun if you just roll over and take it. So here's a new game. I'm going to rape your dear little brother here, hard and brutal, or you will."
Adam's stomach drops. Sam glances at Adam before looking back at Lucifer.
"Lucifer, please, I-I can fight you if that's what you want. Just tell me what you want and I'll do it."
"And that's exactly why you're not doing it for me anymore," says Lucifer dismissively.
He steps towards Adam, who crawls back with a whimper.
"Don't touch him, please!"
Lucifer stops, turns around. "There's only one way for you to stop this, Sam," he says, eyebrows raised.
Sam's eyes flick between Lucifer and Adam and his mouth opens but his voice is frozen. Lucifer's eyes roll in disdain and then there's a cold grip around Adam's arm-he's right in Adam's space-and Adam screams.
"Wait!" he hears Sam say, and the grip is miraculously lessening. "I'll-I'll do it."
Lucifer moves behind Adam, still holding onto him, leaving him with a view of the stakes from Sam's limbs dissolving. Sam pushes himself up unsteadily, his gaping wounds knitting themselves together as Adam watches. His eyes were weak and defeated before, but now they are pure resolve. Adam tries to pull away but Lucifer is holding onto his arm with a grip of steel.
"Don't-!" Adam shrieks-he barely recognizes his own voice.
Sam doesn't flinch, keeps walking steadily towards him and then grabs Adam's flailing arm, pressing down on his wrist, the pain forcing Adam to his knees. Lucifer lets go, standing back to watch in amusement. Sam twists Adam's arm around his back and his other hand presses down hard on his shoulders, pushing Adam to lie face first on the ground. Adam struggles as much as he can, but Sam is an immovable force.
"Fuck you, Sam!" he screams. "Fuck you!"
One of his kicks lands, and he hears Sam grunt in pain, though his grip never falters. Sam doesn't stop until he's lying fully on top of Adam, his weight pinning him down.
"Stop it, stop it, Adam," Sam barks harshly.
Adam wriggles as much as he can. His arm feels like it's going to break in this position and he tries to pull away. Every inch of Sam's naked chest is touching his back, sticky blood smearing all over his skin, and he can't get away from that touch. One of Sam's hands slips further down, and then his right arm is only held down by the pressure of Sam's body. He pulls his arm free, lashing out and sinking his nails into the side of Sam's face, aiming for his eyes.
Sam yells out, jerking back when the sharp edge of Adam's ragged nails get too close-this is Adam's chance!-and then a pair of freezing cold hands lock around his arms, trapping them against the hard ice. Lucifer crouches down and cocks his head with amusement as he watches.
Adam is trapped like a butterfly with a pin through its back.
He can feel Sam's harsh breath on the back of his neck, as he rests his forehead there and pants. Adam can't stop his body from shaking minutely, and he doesn’t know why he's reacting like this after everything that has already been done to him here.
For several seconds no-one moves; Adam is pinned by the two of them-no amount of squirming will free him from the man at his back and the not-man crouching in front of him. Then he feels Sam moving against his back, propping himself up on one hand and parting Adam's legs.
He can feel a rigid object pressing against his hole; he can't get away, and Sam keeps up the pressure until something gives and the head is inside. Just the tip, but it burns, dry and tight.
A strangled scream rips out of his throat. "Fuck you! I hate you, I hate you!"
He hears Sam muttering pleas into his tangled hair, "Stop fighting, Adam, please," and the pained edge to his voice makes Adam furious at the self-centered bastard. How dare he pretend he's feeling even a fraction of Adam's pain, when he's the one responsible for it.
He tries to inch away but arms wrap around Adam's waist, pulling him onto Sam’s cock, exquisite pain burying deeper into him. Sam doesn't stop despite the friction, slowly impaling Adam, until finally it's resting fully inside Adam, and he can feel Sam's hips against his ass. All movement stops. He can feel the length inside him, a heartbeat against his fragile insides, and the rising and falling of Sam's chest against his back. His face burns and he squeezes his eyes shut, clenches his fists.
Lucifer caresses Adam's wrists in his grip, and then Sam pulls back, the dry skin inside burning and resisting any movement, and slams back in. An involuntary noise comes from between Adam's clenched teeth, and even though he knows it's useless, his legs scrabble in an attempt to get away.
Sam keeps it up, a steady workmanlike rhythm-in, out-like he's on automatic. Adam can hear his pants in his ear, the hot breath fluttering his hair, and he hates it all so much. He keeps his mouth shut despite the mounting pain, but when he feels something tear inside, his shoulders start to shake with repressed sobs, and he tucks his face away against the cold ice.
It goes on for what feels like forever, until finally Lucifer says, "It won't end until you finish, Sam."
Sam pauses, his chest moving away from Adam's back as he presumably looks at his doppelganger.
"Is your imagination failing you? The fact that you're fucking your baby brother isn't enough to get you off?"
There's nothing but silence as Adam regulates his breathing, grateful for the break from the pain. And then Sam lowers himself again, a sudden violent snap of his hips that sinks his cock deep inside Adam. He's relentless now, vicious thrusts, one hand on the back of Adam's neck pushing his face down, the other gripping his hip, nails biting. It's too much, and Adam can't hold it in anymore. It pours out of him in choked sobs that make him feel like he's drowning. The grunts from behind him just make it worse because that's Sam getting closer to orgasm, that's Sam enjoying this.
It stings when Sam finishes inside, like acid flooding his insides. Sam's chest heaves behind him, and he can feel sweat and blood sticking them together, and he's never hated someone more than he does now. When Sam pulls out and Lucifer releases his hands he turns around, his vision tunneling as he throws his fists into weak flesh. He thinks he's yelling something but he's nothing but a conduit for this rage, all he can do is release it.
He comes to sucking in harsh breaths, standing over the crumpled figure below him. His knuckles sting, blood pearling over scuffed-off skin, and his entire body aches. He can't even recognize Sam's face underneath all the blood. He feels like he's going to throw up.
Sam stirs on the ground, eyes rolling, and Lucifer starts to laugh.
- - -
Lucifer tries to make them do it again, and Sam refuses. And then for a time Adam is Lucifer's.
Sam doesn’t refuse again after that.
- - -
The newest illusion is Adam's college room, the one he only stayed in for a few short weeks before everything ended. There are two beds: one his own, the other for his roommate. The room is perpetually messy, but he never sees his roommate. He's been alone in this illusion for a while. Lucifer is letting him get used to it, to set the scene properly. He's been to the library, walked around the campus. There's nothing new in the books, nothing he didn't already know. He gets a headache when he tries to read too much, the words sliding away into descriptions that squirm into his brain, that couldn't possibly be what medical textbooks are really like.
He doesn't like leaving his room too often and seeing other people, people he knows aren't real. It doesn't feel like an actual college with people living their lives; it feels more like the idea of college, of shining university prospectus photos brought into motion.
He lies back on the bed, squirming restlessly as the rough material of his jeans rubs against his skin. That's another thing he's not used to: wearing clothes. He struggled to remember how to put them on at first, and he quickly became irritated at how restrictive they felt, and how difficult it was to move around. He swears that Lucifer might have even made them out of extra itchy material, because he can't understand how he managed to wear clothes every day feeling like this.
He punches the bed and lets out a breath of air before bringing his hand up and looking at it. That was one thing he learned before he died-the names of bones, from the few classes of Anatomy 101 he attended. He taps his wrist, feeling the delicate bones underneath as he goes from lateral to medial.
Scaphoid. Lunate. Triquetrum. Pisiform. Trapezium. Trapezoid. Capitate. Hamate.
Some Lovers Try Positions That They Can't Handle.
He repeats it for a while, then tries the bones in his arm. He learned them, he's sure he did, but the names are out of his grasp, like they never existed.
He sighs, and closes his eyes.
He doesn't know how long he lies there before he feels that nudge in his mind, a reminder that the show is starting soon. There's a knock at the door and he sits up. Sam is there when he opens the door, hunched over with some awful jacket with elbow patches on. He's a TA at the same university as Adam. It makes these trysts easier.
"Hey, come in, my roommate's out," says Adam, as he shuts the door behind Sam.
Sam takes off his jacket, closes the curtains. He sits on the bed next to Adam, uncomfortably close.
"How's your studying going? Have you got any plans for the break?" he asks, with wooden delivery. It's kind of funny how terrible he is at acting.
Adam slides his hand over, cupping the bulge in Sam's pants. "Did you really come here to ask about my studying?"
Sam grabs Adam's hand. "I'm sorry. This has gone on long enough. I don't want to mess you up. We shouldn't do this."
"I don't care what they think. They don't understand us. Can it really be wrong if it feels this good?"
Adam presses down hard on Sam's erection as he delivers that ridiculous line. Lucifer loves these stupid melodrama settings, especially the ones that dwell on how sick and wrong incest is.
Sam bucks up, moans Adam's name, before reaching over and cupping Adam's face, kissing him gently.
Adam tries to keep his face as neutral as possible. He hates this pretend affectionate crap and he hates being touched like this-soft, like Sam hasn't already raped him dozens of times.
Sam pulls off their clothes, breaking the kiss and coming back to it, with an urgent air. Adam goes along with it. He wants it over with, but after this scenario there will just be another one, and another one. When they're both naked Sam pulls Adam onto his lap, making him kneel up a little so he can suck at his nipples. They both ignore Adam's soft cock; he's never hard, and Sam has at least stopped trying to get him to respond like that.
Adam stares at the wall over Sam's head, at the poster of the circulatory system he put up there, a reminder of the dreams he'd once had. He winces when a slick finger prods between his legs. He loops his arms around Sam's shoulder, squeezes his eyes shut and tries to stay still while Sam opens him up. He's not ready when the fingers slide out, hands grabbing his ass to lower him down, spearing him on that thick cock.
Sam's face barely flickers when Adam sits on him fully, blank of anything but defeat and apathy. Adam feels full, his hole stretched around something that shouldn't fit-uncomfortable but not painful. Sam's efforts have at least helped with that. He wants to wait a while longer, but he feels that itch at the back of his mind again.
He doesn't like it in this position. It's better when all he has to do is lie there, or stay still. Maybe that's why Lucifer made them pick this position, where Adam is the one that has to move, lifting up and fucking himself on that hard cock over and over.
That's what pushes Adam over the edge. This is all he has anymore: bouncing on his brother's cock in a fake college room for the devil's amusement. This is his life now, because he trusted the wrong people, because he had the bad luck of being related to the Winchesters. Tears start to slip down his nose, but he can't stop. He has to keep moving, keep this illusion going, because as bad as this is, the alternative is even worse.
Sam's eyes snap out of his unfocused gaze, and he touches Adam's face, looking alarmed.
"Hey, Adam, hey, what is it? Am I hurting you?"
Adam shakes his head. "F-Fuck you. You think I wanted this for my life? What, what the fuck did I do to deserve-?"
He can't talk anymore, and Sam looks devastated, which is fucking ridiculous considering the position they're in now. He loops his arms around Adam, brings Adam in close so he can cry on Sam's neck, but he carries on rocking his hips into Adam, because they still have to keep this farce up.
And Adam still hates Sam, still hates everything, but ... he's not immune to the calming effect of human touch. He lets everything out, cries his guts out into Sam's neck until he feels empty and exhausted. Sam kisses his hair, murmuring comforting words, and Adam clings back.
- - -
It gets easier every time Lucifer makes them do it, and then Adam climaxes for the first time.
They’re in bed together, covers hiding them, though if anyone came in the room it wouldn't hide the truth of what they're doing. There's a gentle wash of conversation: his mother and father talking downstairs as they do the dishes. Sam's brother is here, too, in the next room, flat out on the bed from the beer he'd been drinking while watching the game.
Sam is close behind him, big cock thrusting in and out of his hole while Adam tries to muffle himself with his hand. Sam's thigh is wedged in between Adam's legs, his fist around Adam's dick, his body hot against his back. He can feel sweat slicking the sheets, but his feet are starting to go numb from the cold outside of the covers. He feels safe here, Sam's body covering him, protecting him.
Each smooth slide in and out brushes against his prostate, sending shocks of pleasure through his body. His cock is hard, that much has happened before, but Sam's hand around it feels more urgent than comforting, like the pleasure is leading somewhere this time. He clenches his hole around the hard dick holding him open, and rocks his hips involuntarily at the spark that produces. He wants to tell Sam to go faster, but they have to be quiet, can't let anyone see the dirty sinful things they do. So he just pushes his ass back against Sam's crotch, and fuck yes, Sam's hips start doing some swivel thing, and it feel like he's being massaged from the inside so good … and then he's clenching down, spurting out his orgasm onto the sheets while he shoves his knuckles into his mouth to stifle his moans.
It feels like his whole being is bathed in pleasure in the aftershocks, body going limp while Sam speeds up his thrusting behind him, wringing out the last bits of pleasure from Adam's over-sensitized passage before stiffening and burying his face in Adam's neck while his cock pumps out his release inside.
- - -
Lucifer tries other scenes, an endless parade of worlds where Sam and Adam are humiliated over and over, Lucifer's imagination knowing no bounds.
Adam is dressed in some stupid dress with an apron. He's lying back on the kitchen table while Sam drills into him with steady, slow strokes. "Fuck your wife, Sam," Lucifer laughs.
Adam's sitting on Sam's cock at the dinner table. His mom is there, pouring out her coffee and calling Adam disgusting, filthy, his own brother, how could he, and Adam burns with embarrassment. Sam places his hand in Adam's hair, turning his face to hide in Sam's shoulder.
Sam fucks Adam over the hood of that car, the vintage black one. The metal is covered in ice, it sticks to the skin of Adam's stomach, pulling painfully and ripping.
His old friends from high school laugh at Adam, gathered in a circle around the two of them. Their faces are indistinct-there's that brown-haired guy he used to hang out with. What was his name? Sam pushes Adam's head down and makes him take his cock until he chokes.
It never stops, and Adam just wants it to end. But he can't even conceive of anything different; it feels like this has been his whole life, nothing but humiliation and fucking and Sam.
He tries to disconnect from what’s happening and escape to his mind and memories but he can't remember what really happened and what didn't-Did his mom and dad live together? He and Sam always had this secret thing going on, right? Sometimes he feels like he's just making up nice stories instead of truly remembering things.
The illusions feel stranger and stranger, a sense of unreality that he can't identify or describe. No-one except his mom and Sam's brother has a face anymore, the scenes are full of objects with seemingly no purpose, and there's snow and ice everywhere.
Then Lucifer makes Adam fuck Sam. He laughs at the comical size difference, the way Adam doesn't quite know how to position Sam. The snow covering the bed is soft as Adam parts Sam's legs and shuffles forward. He pushes in slowly, fisting the base of his cock, and inhales sharply through clenched teeth at the burn.
Sam squeezes his eyes shut, and turns his head to the side. He looks pale and tired, and Adam raises a shaky hand to just barely skim the length of his thigh, feeling the soft hairs under his fingers. He doesn't want to hurt Sam.
He thrusts forward experimentally, the motion sending Sam's body sliding back. Sam's brow creases and his fists clench in the snow.
"How does little bro's baby cock feel?" asks Lucifer, coming up to stand next to Sam, leaning over them with a leer on his face. "You can barely feel it, right? Is it even in?"
He laughs, contorting Sam's features into something ugly. Adam bends down, his arms bracketing Sam's body. He leans forward a little bit so he's face to face with Sam, the movement tilting Sam's hips back. Sam's eyes crack open a slit and he brings his legs up and around Adam's body.
Adam brushes Sam's hair behind his ears, close enough that he can feel Sam's breath. He keeps his eyes locked with Sam as he moves, trying to keep Sam's attention off the laughing specter next to them. It's easier now, slick inside, and hot. It feels different than being fucked, more immediate, his whole cock throbbing with pleasure. It almost feels like he isn't controlling the strokes in and out, like he's being pulled in by the lure of Sam's body, unable to bear being out of that wonderful tight space for too long.
His belly brushes Sam's cock on one particularly deep thrust. It's hard, sticky precome smearing on him. Sam bites his lip, eyes closing momentarily, and color rises in his cheeks. The sight makes something deep inside Adam glow. He pulls out almost to the tip and then buries himself in sharply on the next stroke. Sam lets out an involuntary grunt, and he can't believe he's making Sam feel this.
"Oh, look at you. You're really getting into it." Lucifer sounds incredulous. "All this time fucking your little brother when really, all you wanted was a cock in you. You slut."
Adam kisses Sam, dropping down so there's no space between their bodies, skin slick-sliding together, his hips moving in frenetic shallow thrusts. Sam's hands come up to hold on to Adam's shoulders as they kiss. Sam is clenching around Adam's cock, squeezing sparks of ecstasy that make Adam jerk, and he can't get enough of the sounds Sam is making.
Sam writhes underneath Adam, and then he arches up, mouth pulling away as he cries out. He clenches around Adam and Adam realizes Sam has just come. He snaps his hips forward, and drops his head down onto Sam's hard chest. He buries himself again and again in Sam, his balls tightening painfully, until finally he's coming, squirming and grinding into the body underneath him.
He collapses on top of Sam, feeling like his whole self has been emptied. He rests his head on Sam's chest, cheek pressed against hard bone, and pants, breathing in the scent of Sam's sweat. It feels good, a warm body under him, his cock throbbing with the last echoes of pleasure.
Then icy hands grab him, pull him away and throw him to the ground. He gasps at the shock of cold on his back.
Lucifer sneers down at him. "How touching. Excuse me while I borrow your 'lover' for a while."
Adam glances over at Sam-he's still lying on the ground, frozen, his expression starting to go blank in that way Adam hates-and he pushes himself up. Lucifer's face hardens, and a moment later Adam is flying back, crashing through snow and ice until he finally skids to a stop.
He sits up. There is a long smear of red in the ice in front of him. His back stings and he can feel blood dripping down his skin. There is nothing but white as far as he can see.
Snow starts to fall softly.
- - -
He walks. He tries to find his way back to Sam but he never gets close. He feels like maybe he's trapped in a snow-globe, or maybe he's the only one left in this Hell.
He remembers he used to talk to his mom when he was alone and he tries that again. But he's lost her voice, and when he tries to conjure it up, it doesn't feel real to him anymore. He cries because he's lost so much, without even noticing when it happened. She was important to him; he thinks the reason he's here is because of his love for her, but his sorrow feels fake: he doesn't remember her enough to mourn her.
She looked after him. But Sam does that for him now. And Adam looks after Sam. They're all each other has.
So he talks to Sam.
Sam is reassuring and kind and funny and listens to whatever Adam says. When Adam is sick of walking he curls up in the snow, wraps his arms around himself and imagines that Sam is cradling him like that. Sometimes when Adam is lying there, he imagines Sam whispering in his ear all the things he wants to do to Adam, and Adam touches himself until he comes.
Time stretches on. His life on earth feels like a long-faded dream. If his existence has been a long stretch into infinity, earth would be perhaps the length of his little toe. It doesn't define him anymore.
The ache of Sam's absence never really fades entirely, even as Adam loses more of himself to the march of time. The loneliness strips him down until his longing is a weeping wound. If Lucifer came back to offer Adam the chance to spend the rest of eternity being tortured by Sam, he would take it, if only to feel Sam's hands on his skin again.
He's collapsed on the ice, alone, crying bitterly, when he hears it. An explosion of sound: rumbles like thunder and shrieks like glass shattering. He looks up and sees many-colored lights on the horizon.
It can only be Michael and Lucifer. And that means Sam might be free.
He gets up and starts running, getting as close to the raging tornado of ice and flame as he dares. He finds Sam buried under a snow drift, only his mangled hand sticking out. He pulls out the frozen body and starts to drag Sam away. By the time he's far enough out of range of the archangels that he feels safe, Sam's frost-bitten extremities have warmed up to a more healthy-looking pink.
He lets Sam drop to the ground, and starts scrambling in the snow, digging out a hole in the snow drift. He compacts the snow together until it's hard and durable, a small cave just big enough for two. Then he squirms out and pulls Sam in. He fills the entrance with packed snow, sealing them in fully.
Sam is lying on his back, his eyes blank and unfocused. Adam crawls in beside him, pulls Sam onto his side and hugs himself around Sam, tucking Sam's hands in between their chests to warm them up.
It's been so long that his mental image of Sam has deteriorated. When he looks at Sam now he can see tiny details he forgot. Individually, they seemed insignificant, but when added together, they made Sam more real, a person, and more beautiful than anything his mind could have imagined.
He nestles in against Sam's throat, looking up at the snow ceiling above them. Light is shining through, the packed snow giving it a blue tinge. He can feel the air in the shelter warming up from the heat of their bodies. For the first time in forever he feels safe.
Sam stirs against him. He murmurs Adam's name and snuggles in closer. Adam hides a smile in Sam's chest.
They lie there in silence for a while before Sam says in a whisper, "Are you okay?"
Adam tilts his head up, Sam's eyes are closed, his face drawn and pale with a sickly blue tinge from the light.
"Of course. I'm fine. What about you?"
Sam just makes an ambiguous grunt.
"I missed you," says Adam.
Sam sighs. "Yeah, me too."
There's silence for a while. Sam resting, and Adam just letting himself indulge in it all, being together again. Then he starts talking, slowly.
"I think, before, when I was on my own, I talked to my mom. And I tried again this time, but I couldn't-I think I've forgotten a lot about her. But I remember it was like this with her … safe. Did you know her?"
Sam shakes his head, his chin brushing against the top of Adam's head, ruffling his hair. "Sorry … I remember my brother though."
The word sparks recognition in Adam. He looks up at Sam, who's staring into space. "… We're brothers, right?"
Sam nods.
"So my mom is yours too?"
Sam frowns. "No, I don't think that's right."
"Then how are we brothers?"
There's silence while Sam thinks. "I don't remember," he says eventually.
Adam sighs and cuddles in closer. "I don't want him to take you again. Why the fuck can't it be like this forever? It was like this with mom, why did it have to change?"
"I'm sorry," says Sam in a strangled voice, and Adam looks up in alarm.
"Why are you apologizing?"
"I think this is all my fault." Sam has closed his eyes; his lower lips trembles before he bites it firmly.
Adam looks down. Maybe that's true. He can't remember. He doesn't know what to say so he just squeezes in closer to Sam, holding him. He crooks his head back down in Sam's chest and sighs. After all this time on his own it feels amazing to have someone close to him who doesn't want to hurt him. Sam's body is so warm, so beautiful in contrast to all this cold. He brushes his hands up and down Sam's back in a comforting rhythm. Sam tilts his head down so his hair just brushes against Adam's forehead, soft and silky.
Adam pushes his knee between Sam's legs, so all his body is pressed up against Sam. Sam brings his hand down and starts to trace a circle on Adam's hip.
They while away a long time like this, just pressed together, touching and caressing each other.
Adam breathes in deep, his face pressed against Sam, and then he moves his face forward, touching his lips to Sam's collarbones. He kisses Sam's skin again, and again, licks it and then sucks gently. When he pulls away there's a blossoming red circle in the skin. He bares his teeth and presses down, fitting his teeth to the outline of the bruise. Sam's breathing is heavier now, and the hand that has been stroking Adam's hip clutches at him, ragged nails stinging for a second.
Adam can feel Sam's cock rising, heavy against his stomach, and he squirms against it. His own cock is starting to stiffen as well, and suddenly he wants it so badly.
He whispers, "Sam, I want to, please, can I?"
Sam nods. Adam shifts against Sam's hard body, getting just the right angle to rub their cocks together. They move against each other, bodies writhing sinuously in and out. Color is flushing Sam's cheeks, and his mouth is half open, eyes closed, as he pants for air-Adam can't keep his eyes off the sight. He thinks maybe Sam should fuck him, or the other way around, but he doesn't want to move, doesn't want to give up this pure touching of body against body.
Time seems to stretch out as they rock together lazily, slowly, taking their time to explore each other's bodies again, for long enough that their shelter starts to heat up. Melted ice falls on Adam's cheek as he hitches his hips up, cock sliding in the groove of Sam's hip. Sam's face screws up and he pulls Adam in closer, thrusting his hips harshly, slapping their skin together. Adam lets out an involuntary whine. He's getting closer; he doesn't want it to end yet but he can't pull back from Sam.
Sam's arm flails beside him for a second, searching for something to grab, before he reaches out to Adam. He digs his fingers into the meat of Adam's ass before he comes, biting his lips to try to keep those sounds from coming out.
Adam snaps his hips forward, sliding through the slick mess on their stomachs, wet and silky perfect, and he can't keep himself from speeding up, forcing himself over the edge and coming, emptying himself all over them both.
They're both breathing heavily when it's over, chests heaving. Adam's head is spinning. His entire body tingles deliciously, every nerve sparking in the wake of a complete system overload.
Like that, held in Sam's arms, Adam drifts off, mind disconnecting from everything.
- - -
After that Sam and Adam are together for a short while.
They walk the snowy landscape, trying to stay out of reach of the archangels' battle, and shelter in dug out snow caves when they're tired. It's still Hell, Adam's body aches and freezes, but they help each other struggle along: Adam propping Sam up when he can barely walk, or Sam carrying Adam on his back.
They talk-share their thoughts, feelings, fantasies. It doesn't feel like Sam is another person anymore; he's an extension of Adam, or maybe it's the other way around.
When they're silent Adam holds Sam, or keeps some part of his body in contact with Sam-the touch giving him a shaky sense of peace and contentment, healing over the scar tissue on his soul.
His heart feels like it's going to burst out of his chest with happiness, but the distant rumbles and flashes of light mean he never forgets that this will end soon. It gives everything an urgent edge that keeps them anxious and unable to relax. They hold each other tightly when they're lying in the snow cave together and fuck often to try to relieve the nervous tension.
Adam treasures every little bit of time they have together, tries to engrave it into his memory for the bad times.
He's still not ready when that perfect time is inevitably broken.
Lucifer bursts in, shatters Sam and Adam's peace, with blood and ice and blades. Maybe Adam's been left alone for too long, has grown unused to it all, but Lucifer feels crueler. He makes Sam and Adam hurt each other, betray each other-and there is no respite like before, no domestic illusions with Sam's brother, or Adam's mom. There's nothing but the snow, the ice, and the hellish blizzard. It's unrelenting, and Adam can feel his mind slipping. He wants it to end.
Sam is up close touching Adam, who's falling apart and bleeding, when a bright light bathes the world in white. Adam shuts his eyes against it. Sam holds him closer and then he feels something pulling Sam away from him. He clings back, digs his nails into Sam's back. He won't be left on his own again. They're both pulled away, the sky flips and Adam feels like he's being pulled inside-out, squeezed through a small space. All he can hear is screaming, rushing in his ear. He holds onto the one familiar thing he has while they tumble through the abyss.
When it stops he keeps his eyes shut, pressed up against Sam. He gasps for breath and everything feels sharper, hurts in a way he's not used to. He turns his head, cracks open his eyes, squinting into the brightness. For the first time in forever, he doesn't feel that icy ache in his body.
His eyes slowly adjust. Green. A prickly sensation on his bare legs. It feels warm like when he's embraced by Sam, but everywhere. He doesn't have words for what he's seeing.
He turns his head and sees Michael is standing a few feet away. Adam freezes, even stops breathing, but when Michael walks towards him he can't take it anymore and screams. Sam reacts immediately, spinning around and pushing Adam behind him, getting up on shaky legs and holding his ground.
"Sammy," says Michael. "It's me, it's Dean. Just stay calm, okay? No-one's going to hurt you."
Sam stares at him. Michael tries for a smile. It looks strange on his face-missing those sharp edges.
"I've come to take you home. Please."
Sam edges back to Adam, almost stepping on him, before reaching a hand blindly behind him and pulling Adam up with him. Adam clings to Sam's hand. He doesn't want to go with this strange Michael, but he doesn't want to leave Sam.
Not-Michael leads them away, to where an old man is waiting by a big black thing. The old man's face is weird, full of details like the folds of skin around his eyes and the bristly hair framing his face. It's utterly different to the hazy blur that Adam is used to seeing on the faces of people in the illusions, and it makes him nervous to wonder why this character has been set apart.
The old man with the face opens up the black thing, helps them in. Inside is warm and stuffy-it seems to radiate heat. Sam crawls in after Adam, and pushes him down on the scorching black skin, covers Adam with his body. The old man drops something soft over them. There's a rumble and the whole box starts to vibrate.
It's absurd and Adam can't keep it in anymore, lets out a giggle-snort of laughter because what the fuck is this, nothing has ever been like this-hot and bright and sharp. Nothing makes sense anymore.
Next chapter