Fic: The Ghost and His Keeper [Michael/Adam, Gabriel, Raphael] Part II
Part I
PART II
Adam dreams he's burning up, dying, except he isn't.
And someone is calling out for him.
Someone is saying sorry.
-x-x-x-
He wakes up thankfully not in a crypt or coffin or even his basement like he was expecting, or on his living room floor, which would make more sense. No, instead he wakes up in his bed, when it's late evening outside, to the room painted in gold and red, and a grey see through form straddling him. The thing's grey-blue eyes are doing that weird soul stare at him. It feels heavy enough to be a real man straddling him.
Also, Adam thinks he might have a concussion which yeah, brilliant.
“Adam,” the thing hisses, its face caught in this weird scowl, looking like a cross between annoyance and concern. And even though it's just a hiss, something about the voice hits Adam hard. Something inexplicably other. It's deep and like tribal drums resonating right in his soul, and so achingly familiar, and it scares Adam.
Adam knows that voice.
Michael spoke like that.
Well, Fuck.
~*~
Adam runs the moment he gets a chance too. He's not sure how far he can make it but he'll try.
“Adam,” Michael calls after him gliding through the house, until he doesn't. Until he's right in front of Adam and corners him into a wall. “Listen to me,” Michael hisses making the beat seems urgent and frantic, but Adam doesn't listen. He can't afford too.
Because this is Michael, and angel who was supposed to be good, and yet a filthy liar. Who promised Adam his world back. Who used Adam. Who dragged him down to that part of hell beyond the screams where the insanity sunk in and tried to take away everything of Adam that was left. Michael who burrowed into his soul to protect himself. Because Michael's supposed to be in Hell stuck in the Cage with Lucifer. He isn't supposed to be here ruining Adam's third chance at life. He isn't supposed to be haunting Adam's home.
Something flips inside Adam, raw and instinctual and maybe a residual of days spent twisting mutating in the Cage he likes to deny exists, and he pushes past without even knowing how, dives for his bag and flings the first thing that comes out of it - the salt - at Michael. Whatever it is works, and Michael poofs, and Adam stays on the floor shocked and just trying to digest the information.
-x-x-x-
The thing - ghost in his house is Michael. Michael.
Michael is fucking haunting him.
Adam is not going to let that happen. He's not losing to Michael a second time. He's not letting Michael invade his life a second time. And this isn't just his life, it's his home. It's his mother's sanctuary. Her hidey hole from the rest of the world, and he can't let Michael ruin it.
So, Adam does what he's best at doing. He comes up with a plan, and starts working at it with the same single minded focus that's was responsible for him making his house habitable after just a few months on his own. What got him his full ride to University.
He starts taking those silly herbs seriously, and uses it. Lines places with rock salt, sprinkles Holy Water everywhere, hangs up the iron horseshoe over his bedroom door. And it works. It's slow, it's tedious, it's definitely dangerous, but Adam is stubborn. He's decided that he's going to squeeze Michael out of this house, and he fucking swears to Michael's supposedly omnipresent douchebag dad, he will do it.
It takes a long time, maybe over a month, maybe over two. Adam keeps to a systematic schedule, slowly pushing Michael away from one room after another. It's hard to do without letting Michael notice exactly what he's doing. He has to make it seem random.
Containing Michael isn't easy. Michael is a tricky fucker. He plays dirty.
Michael fights back. The few times Adam catches a glimpse of him, looks livid. He shifts things, moves through cracks in the salt lines, using other ways to break the salt lines before Adam can replace them. He snarls, loud enough for it to echo in the house and resonate deeper than Adam's bones leaving him shaking and panting for breath.
Adam plays dirtier.
It's a war and they both know it.
It's a war that Adam is going to win.
~*~
He finally manages to contain Michael to the basement, the only place in the house where Adam doesn't go at all. Michael snarls and snarls, and yells and screams for Adam, loud and hard and primal. It resonates within Adam, leaving him shaking and gasping for breath, and Adam decidedly ignores him, pretends that he doesn't exist, that what he's doing isn't affecting him.
~*~
He calls over Nanny for a celebratory dinner once he's completely sure that Michael is safely contained in the basement. He cooks his best meal, and tells Nanny to break out the good wine. They toast. He sees her off to her home when they're done, even though she tries to push him off.
Because of the fact that Adam's life is probably a great big cosmic reality TV the peace as Adam hoped it would doesn't last forever. It doesn't even last a few days. He comes back home from dropping Nanny off after their 'I'm sort of ghost free' celebration to Michael's grey blue-eyes boring holes into him, instead of being confined to the basement like he should be. Before Adam barely has a chance to react before Michael's ethereal form is hauling him off.
“Stay quiet, they're here again.” Michael hisses, holding onto him harder when he struggles and tries to break free of the ghost's grip. Without explaining further, drags him into the kitchen. As he's being dragged, out of the corner of his eyes, Adam catches a glimpse of something moving. Pays attention for the first time at the high pitched ringing coming from all around him. It rightly freaks him out, wondering how he hadn't noticed something so obvious before.
Adam knows that ringing. It sounds like angels.
There are angels in his house.
When Adam gets his bearing back from the revelation, he realizes Michael has a knife in his hand. He's pointing it at Adam, looking worried and apologetic. Adam doesn't even manage to get a word out before Michael's pinning him to the wall clamping a ghostly hand over his mouth, and making a slash on his index finger. He screams, through the hand on his mouth, and hears a crash in the living room. Hears them coming towards the kitchen where Michael has him pinned. Michael cuts him twice again, one gash in his middle finger, and one on his ring. Then gripping his wrist enough to hurt, he uses Adam's bleeding fingers to draw on the tiles. It's some weird symbol, that Adam finds looking vaguely familiar, even though he can't place why.
The ringing is getting closer, painful to listen too, and making Adam feel light headed with it. Adam knows they're almost there. He only catches a glimpse of them. Four, three men and woman, all wearing black suits, blades at the ready, when Michael takes his bleeding hand and slams it dead centre of the symbol with bruising force. Adam winces with the pain, can see the tile crack, before all he can see is blinding white light, and all he can hear is that ringing get loud enough making his ears hurt and his head feel like it's about to come apart, and feel too much pressure making it hard to breathe, feeling like he's being squeezed into a point. And it feels like something is trying to claw it's way out of him from the inside, there's too much pain to bear, and he just wants it to stop, but it just keeps going on and on.
~*~
Adam doesn't know when it's over, except it is. He slumps against the tile, and lets out a choked sob.
“What was that about?” Adam finds his voice asking hoarsely. He doesn't even know why he's asking other than the fact that it's something he'd do. His throat feels raw and abused, as if he's been screaming. Maybe he was. He's yet to open his eyes, they feel too heavy and he's half terrified of what he'll see if he does. “Those were angels, weren't they? Why were they here? Why are you out? Aren't you supposed to be in the basement? I know I'd trapped you in there. How did you break out?”
He's babbling, he knows. It's thanks to the sheer blind panic engulfing him.
“Adam. Adam!” It's just one word, one that Adam is used too, coming from Michael. But he's always angry when he calls Adam. Now, Michael just sounds tired, and worried.
Adam opens his eyes. He realizes that he's still bleeding, and the tile is cracked when Michael had slammed his wrist onto it. His wrist is obviously broken.
“Adam,” he says it again, like it's the only word he can say. Except this time it comes out something like a relieved exhale. Michael is pressing his ghostly form close in to Adam, grey blue eyes worried and sincere, and almost hypnotizing. Adam can't seem to look away from them.
“Why?” Adam finds himself asking again. He's not even sure what he means with that question. Why is this happening? Why were angels here? Why did they want to be here? Why was Michael haunting him? Why did Michael help him? Why was this happening to Adam? Why couldn't he be left in peace?
Michael's gaze softens; and when he speaks his voice doesn't make Adam's head hurt. “You still don't remember,” it sounds sad and, resigned. “Maybe it's better that way.”
“What?”
“Angels. They were here again. They've been scouting this place for a while. Something happened. I don't know what, but it's happened, and they know you're out. They know we're out.”
“What? Why?” Adam feels himself asking again, even though it's stupid, because everything is a jumble and nothing makes sense. His head hurts, his hand hurts, everything hurts.
Michael sighs, his expression seeming to echo Adam's own pain. Adam never paid attention to it before because he was deliberately ignoring Michael when not trying to exorcise him from the house, but now that he is... it's fucking weird to watch. The light shifts through him like a ripple, whenever he moves. The lines on his forehead crease more in worry. “We'll talk later. You should rest first. They won't be coming back soon, so we'll be safe for a while.”
Rest. Yeah sleep sounds good. It'd do him good too. He wants too, but there are still too many questions of the 'what, why, how, when, where,' variety. And he doesn't miss how Michael keeps saying “we” like they're a team. Hasn't missed Michael's line of 'you don't remember' and how sad he'd sounded.
Michael sighs again, as if he knows what's going on through Adam's mind. Adam might be a little hypnotized by the way it looks in the kitchen lights.
“Come on. I'll explain when you're tucked in.” And Michael says it like it's the most normal thing in the world. Like they do this all the time, and it's so freaking weird, because this is Michael. Michael the archangel who fucked up Adam's life. Michael who's haunting him, whom Adam tried to exorcise from his house. Michael who's know apparently talking about tucking Adam in and even in his tired and worried state, he can't wrap his head around how strange this is.
~*~
For reasons he doesn't really understand, and he'll probably hate himself in the morning, after kicking himself in the head for even doing this, he actually listens to Michael. He stumbles to the couch, because he's too tired to make it upstairs to his room. Michael doesn't help him, says he can't with the saddest expression ever, murmuring something about using up all his energy, just to haul Adam to the kitchen and get him to use the banishing sigil.
Michael hovers by the couch as Adam flops ungracefully onto it, letting his legs hang off the armrest. After a moment Michael starts talking.
He doesn't even know when he falls asleep. Michael is still talking, when he nods off.
Adam dreams the same dream he's been having since he got out of the Cage. Of white. Of someone desperately calling out for him, saying sorry. And it hurts. It hurts to hear that voice so wounded and wrecked and Adam wants to reach out to it, curl around it, tell it that things will be fine. But he wakes up instead.
When he wakes up again it's still dark outside, and Michael is hovering by the window.
Adam panics immediately, falling of the couch and nearly misses braining himself on the coffee table, in his haste to get away and go for the holy water or salt. It takes a few moments to remember the events of the previous night.
Angels coming here, for him. For them. The noise. The pain. The migraine. Michael helping him. Michael hauling him into the kitchen, and slashing his fingers to use his blood, and nearly breaking his wrist for a banishing sigil. Michael's voice, sad and resigned, as he murmured 'you don't remember.' Michael convincing him to get some rest first.
His wrist, the blood. He'd not done anything about that. He hadn't applied a splint for his wrist, or even cleaned the cuts, like he should have. Adam stares up at his hand which is... fine. It's absolutely fine. Baby soft, and perfect like last night never happened at all.
When he looks away from his hand, Michael is hovering over him, worry back in those grey-blue eyes. It's an odd look. It should scare him, it does scare him but it feels oddly comforting and right and fuck Adam's head hurts just thinking about it.
“My hand is fine. Why is my hand fine? It should be busted up.” Adam blabs out instead, because he doesn't want to think about what that look means. Or what Michael is trying to make it mean. “Explain. Everything.”
Michael sighs again, the moonlight coming in from the windows rippling through his ethereal form. “You don't remember,” he says again, and it almost sounds wounded. But then he nods, looking like this is all he's been wanting to do from day one, and starts talking again.
~*~
As it turns out explaining everything is exactly what the archangel has been wanting to do since day one. At least that's what he says.
This is how it goes:
They got out of the Cage, Michael doesn't know how - though Adam doubts that because there's something about the way Michael says it like he's omitting something, and they both ended up here. He doesn't know how that happened, and Adam doesn't believe him because there's this uncomfortable humming coming from inside him that makes him feel like how he does when he's lying, amplified. (And holy fuck, he can tell when Michael is lying.) Except they both got out wrong. Adam got out with Michael's Grace. And Michael's not an archangel any more. He's a ghost. A normal human ghost. Again, he doesn't know how and why, and this time Adam knows that's the truth. He's been here from the day Adam found himself here. Just too weak to manifest himself until recently. And he isn't haunting Adam because he wants too. He's haunting Adam because he's bound to Adam, probably because he's housing Michael's Grace. But Adam somehow managed to transfer the binding to the house.
You were my Cage, and now this is my Cage, is how Michael puts it, and he doesn't even sound angry about it. Adam can't understand why, Michael should sound angry. He should sound livid, but he seems calm about it. Accepting. Michael doesn't even know why it's happened, just that it has and that they're stuck this way, here, for however knows long.
As for the angels, they've been snooping around for a while. They're not joined or tied to Heaven any more. It's to do with something happening in Heaven. Michael doesn't know what exactly. He doesn't even remember when he first realized it, but that's when he'd started manifesting himself so that he could warn Adam. Until then he'd been completely content to stay out of Adam's way. I'd caused you enough turmoil, you didn't need more. You looked happy, is what Michael says when Adam raises a disbelieving eyebrow at that, but Adam doesn't question it like he should. Doesn't scoff or make any sarcastic comment. He feels too tired to do so, with the weight of all the new information on his shoulders.
He still takes most of the information with a pinch of salt, and he's sure that Michael's not telling him the whole truth, but still so far whatever Michael has told him doesn't sound like a lie, doesn't feel like a lie.
“So what do we do now?” he asks when everything is finally out.
“Survive. Whatever they want us for, it should blow over soon enough, but we won't take chances. We'll fortify the house. If they come again, I'll warn you, I'll handle it. Trust me.”
“Okay,” Adam says, taking a shaky breath. It's asking a lot to trust Michael again, after their past, but there's this nagging something that makes him want to believe the former archangel, so he gives in. It's not like he has another choice. If he's bound to Michael, and if angels are after him, as much as he hates to admit it, Michael is his best bet. Michael is a tool he can make use off. “Okay.”
“You know,” Michael says after a moment, “I am sorry. For everything.” And it's the truth again, and Adam wants to say fuck you because he has every reason to say it. Michael's invaded his life again, and Adam can do nothing but deal with it, and it's not even fucking fair.
-x-x-x-
Part III