Word Count: 1860
Warnings: Demons, angels, both annoyed and annoying. AU, mention of sexual assault
Author's Notes: Demon Adam - what better distraction to keep the Winchesters from guessing what’s really going on?
Lucifer was rattling the bars again; furious after Death took back Sam’s soul. Adam was pissed too. Sam was lucky. All he ever had from the Winchester name was a lot of grief. Why didn’t anyone rescue him? He tucked himself into the corner where he would usually be ignored. Sam used to distract them from him.
Michael glared at his brother. “Enough!” he snapped. “Haven’t you anything better to do?”
“As a matter of fact I don’t,” Lucifer growled.
“Geez,” muttered Adam, louder than he intended, “why don’t you just order someone to bring you a book or something?”
“A book,” scoffed Lucifer. “As if we have a library!”
“Metatron,” said Michael suddenly.
“Metatron, that old secretary?”
“Exactly,” said Michael. “He wrote everything down.” Michael’s smile became grim. “Including the blueprints for this cage.”
Lucifer looked surprised for a moment. “You’re right, but how do we get him here?”
“The boy suggested ordering someone, didn’t he?”
Adam had the terrible feeling he’d just started something that would turn out very, very bad.
Dean added a slug of Jack to his coffee. The Breakfast of Champions, he thought sourly. Sam filled his own mug from the common pot, smeared his whole-wheat toast with peanut butter and dropped in two slices of white bread for Dean, all without saying a word.
Dean was getting tired of the silent treatment. Sam was alive. Dean had saved him. You’d think he’d be a little bit grateful but no.
“What happened to the strawberry jam?” Sam pulled his head back from the refrigerator interior.
“The whole jar?”
“I had the munchies! Sue me!”
Sam left shaking his head. Another beautiful day in the neighborhood.
Dean went to poke around his favorite room in the Bunker - the hall of weapons. He was carefully handling an old broadsword with seven crosses inlaid in silver on its blade. The silver needed polishing and there was something quietly satisfying about buffing the design to a brilliant gleam. He was tempted to run a whetstone along the edge but, really, it was impractical unless he was going to slay another dragon.
“Dean!” Sam suddenly yelled. “Dean, get in here!”
Dean moved to the television room. A new wide screen had recently replaced the old black and white from the fifties.
“. . . Based on witness descriptions, we have an artist rendering of the suspect who has attacked three women at the college at Lawrence. ”
“Holy shit,” Dean squawked. “That’s Adam!”
“The witnesses all say he has black eyes,” Sam’s face went grim. “The women are in comas – like the ones attacked by that incubus Bobby and Rufus took care of in the Eighties.”
“Shit,” was all Dean could say. “Shit, shit, shit.” Death said he could have Sam or Adam, not both. He should have known this decision would bite him in the ass.
The door to the furthest cell of heaven was flung open. A frightened young angel looked at the prisoners inside.
“He’s gone!” she shrilled. “Metatron’s gone.”
“Gone?” the angel Castiel stood quickly.
“Gone?” echoed Gadreel.
“It -” she swallowed and looked over her shoulder. “Aurian says he thinks he was taken by the Fallen Ones.”
The Fallen Ones, the nine legendary warriors who had sided with Lucifer and with him had been cast into the Pit.
“Dean has been praying for you, Castiel.” She looked around again. “I know its not orders but - but the Winchesters may be our only hope.”
“I understand, little sister,” Castiel stepped out of the cell. “Thank you.” He disappeared.
“Little sister,” she flinched at the closeness of Gadreel; the oldest prisoner of all - he who committed the first failure. “Fear not,” he said. “I want to help. Gather all who are left of Castiel’s squadron and meet me in the fifth Abbot of Shrewsbury’s heaven.
"I fear we have work to do."
Adam’s black eyes glowed as he stepped out of the bar with a satisfied smirk. He was dressed in black - shirt tight enough to show his nipples and form hugging jeans. His black boots clicked on the pavement. The night air had just a tang of an approaching weather front and a hunter’s moon rode the high clouds. He paused at the mouth of an access drive, a faint frown crossing his handsome face as if he thought he heard something.
Sam wrapped his arms around him from behind. Dean yanked a hood over his head. Dean brought out the engraved cuffs and snapped them on Adam’s wrists while Sam swung Adam off his feet. The trunk of the Impala, warded enough to contain the King of Hell, was already open. As soon as he was dropped in, Sam duct taped his ankles together. Dean slammed down the hood and they jumped into the car and drove off.
“That was almost too easy,” Sam remarked grimly.
“I’ll take what I can get,” Dean shrugged. “The hard part will be exorcising that thing out of him.”
“It will be harder than you think,” said the angel who appeared in their back seat.
Dean swerved in surprise. “Damn it, Cas!”
“It’s good to see you too, Dean.” Castiel almost smiled.
“Where were you?” asked Sam.
“In prison? What, did you pull a ‘Great Escape’?”
“You needed me, so they let me out.”
Dean exchanged a glance with Sam. That was not as comforting a thought as it should have been.
Secured in the same chair that had held Gadreel, Dean yanked the hood off Adam’s head. For the briefest of moments, the younger man’s eyes were the same brown he remembered; then his lip curled in a sneer and the black spread out from the pupil to fill his whole eye.
“Geez,” he said. “Those freaky slash chicks have it right.”
“Funny,” Dean snarled. “Let’s see how funny you are when you’re sent back to hell. Hit it, Sammy.”
“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica . . .”
Adam squirmed in the chair. “It’s not going to be that easy!” he choked.
“Sam, stop.” Castiel put his hand on Sam’s arm. “He’s right. That is . . . your brother.”
Adam laughed. “That’s right, Daddy’s Little Bastard Drank the Kool-Aid.”
“Why?” asked Sam.
“What good did being a nice guy get me, huh? You weren’t there to distract the monsters away from me, Sam. Dean-o, there, brought back his ‘real’ brother and left me to rot!”
Dean turned away; it was true. “I could only bring back one.”
Castiel now touched his shoulder. “There is only one way to combat this.” He walked over and looked Adam in the eyes.
“I forgive you,” he said quietly.
“You forgive me? you? who are you?”
“I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord. I forgive you your anger, your sorrow and your desperation.”
Adam’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
“Forgiveness, forgiveness,” Sam muttered flipping through the pages of a handwritten journal. “I can’t find anything.”
“Dad wasn’t big on forgiving things.” Dean shrugged. “Can you improvise?”
“Maybe, need a Gideon, be right back.”
Adam recovered from his surprise.
“You forgive me? You forgive me? Who the hell are you to forgive me? You weren’t there! You never even met me until today!”
“I still forgive you.”
“Are you crazy?”
“I have been.” He turned to Dean. “You must forgive him too.”
Dean opened his mouth a moment, swallowed hard, scratched behind his ear and gathered his thoughts.
“My Dad,” he paused, “our Dad taught me how to shoot, how to hunt, how to save people. I admit, I’d have loved to have him take my to a baseball game – but I never had that. You did. I’m sorry that’s all of him you had. I’m sorry that he never told us about you; hell, I’m sorry he was dumb enough to go after those ghouls without help so that whole nest could’ve been killed off and they would have never killed your Mom and you.
I forgive you for hating him for that. I forgive you for hating me for turning down Michael, so that bastard Zachariah went after you. I’m sorry that Death only gave me the choice of one brother and I forgive you if you hate me for that too.
You’ve got a lot of reasons to hate me, and I’m sorry you do.”
“Damn, you really have a whole pity party going on, don’t you?” Adam’s voice was shaking. He swallowed. “You know, I feel sorry for you. You are just pathetic, you know?”
“Yeah, it’s a habit,” Dean shrugged.
Castiel had let Sam into the room as Dean was speaking. Sam had a worn book in his hands. He began to read in a calm voice.
“Be merciful to me, O God, because of your constant love.
Because of your great mercy wipe away my sins!
Wash away all my evil and make me clean from my sin!
I recognize my faults; I am always conscious of my sins.
I have sinned against you—only against you— and done what you consider evil.
So you are right in judging me; you are justified in condemning me . . .” *
“Stop it!” Adam shouted. “Stop it! You’re the only one who tried to help me.” He began to sob. “You’re the only one that considered me family.”
“That’s not true. . .” began Dean.
“Hush,” said Castiel. “Look.”
Adam choked and hiccupped. Tears started down his face – black tears.
“Good,” Castiel nodded. “I thought he had not been evil long.”
Sam set the book aside and put his arms around Adam.
“I’m sorry this is what you had to do to survive,” he said softly. Dean came over and put his arms around them both.
Castiel stepped among them and put his hand on Adam’s head. He spoke in Enochian
“Unlock his bonds,” he ordered. “Behold, the brother that was lost has been found; the brother that was dead is alive.”
“We’re all prodigals in this family,” Sam remarked.
“All the more reason to stick together,” Adam joked shakily.
“I must go wake the women whose life force the incubus drained.” Castiel vanished.
“I’m a wanted man, aren’t I?” Adam looked at his brothers.
“We all are, kid. Welcome to the family.” Dean shrugged. “We’ve got work to do.”
The summons rang through Heaven. The angels nervously assembled before the throne. Two figures stood before the throne; a tall, handsome dark skinned young man who had been known in life as Jake Talley (‘he was Azazel’s second choice, and not a bad one’) and a shorter but equally as handsome Oriental youth who had been called Kevin Tran (‘might as well get some profit from an ex-prophet’) and the multitude trembled, sore afraid.
“Behold!” announced Jake Talley’s body, “My brother, Michael and I worked together to free ourselves from the Cage and we have agreed that working together we do better than working against each other.”
“Welcome back my brother, Lucifer,” announced Michael. “He that was lost has now been found.”
“We have work to do.”