Adam says yes. Michael fills him, spreading grace along nerves into every nook and crevice of Adam's body relishing the feel of his vessel. Here everything begins.
It's sort of pitiful, how bringing Kate Milligan into the picture can make the once proud, stubborn, and cocky boy change his tune. The boy is almost a broken shell, frantic and wild eyed when he utters the words. He pleads, and begs, like as if this was the only thing he's ever known, and Michael is the one denying him. It's not his true vessel, but Michael can improvise and make it perfect if he wants too, and he does. Somewhere inside Adam's soul begins to burn out. Michael doesn't pay attention to it. It's necessary collateral for the greater good.
(“It's awesome,” he whispers staring at the garden in awe. His excitement over the whole thing is so obvious, and Michael allows himself a smirk at the reaction.
Adam smiles at him, warm wide and cheeks dimpling. Michael can see the clouds reflected in those clear slate blue green eyes. Honestly it's more beautiful than the garden around them. “Mmm,” Michael answers, as curls around him, pleased at the way Adam instinctively leans into touch, pressing himself against the archangel. He likes being the centre of the boy's affections.
“Thank you,” Adam says, pressing himself more into Michael. Michael kisses his cheek in reply.)
Despite the strange impromptu nature of his possession, Adam is polite and rather amiable, exempting his understandable grudge. Sometimes he does comment and offer advice, even if Michael mostly ignores it. Mostly however, he retreats into himself, humming songs or random made up tunes, quoting to himself from books he's read. He's content to stay in his bubble of memories and himself inside his own unconscious, and burn out that way instead of attempting to struggle. It's a sign of defeat Michael knows, because there's nothing the boy can do, but is an interesting choice the boy makes. He leaves him to it. Adam's constant jabbering is not distracting or annoying, after all. It's just there.
(Adam is reading, engrossed in his book – or rather his memory of it, and humming, when Michael visits. The moment he notices Michael's presence – and Adam notices it pretty quick – he sets down the book, and shift a little, beckoning Michael to sit on the couch with him. Michael complies, letting Adam settle against him, bury himself into his side, as he wraps a wing around the boy. The moments they get to do this are rare, and Adam wastes no time in cuddling next to him.
“Rough time?” Adam asks worriedly. Michael simply nods his head, and then Adam's fingers are carding through his vessel's hair, gentle lazy, and comforting.)
Falling into the cage with Lucifer was never part of the plan. At first he's in denial, waiting to be pulled out. He's followed the script down to the letter, done everything he should have, and been a good son. Father knows what he's given up. He shouldn't be here.
But he is, with Lucifer, Sam and Adam. And then it's Lucifer, Adam and him. No way out, no Father coming to save him, and an irate mocking Lucifer enraged at being trapped in here again. Lucifer, who has never been good at controlling his anger, and sees no reason not to take it out on Michael. Michael doesn't mind. He's angry as well. And if Lucifer wants a fight, Michael will give him one. They might as well finish what they had meant to start. Sam's and Adam screams are ignored. He's sure Lucifer relishes them, taking in an extra added pleasure for causing the humans, who he sees as partially – if not fully – responsible for having him stuck here, excruciating pain.
In between the constant clash of grace, Adam disappears quietly, without even a whisper. Soul finally burning out. Michael doesn't even notice until much later.
(Adam is late by only a few moments to greet Michael when he visits the boy's Heaven, but those moments are enough to make worry flood through Michael, wondering if the boy has already forgotten his existence so soon.)
It's guilt that finally makes Michael take a walk inside subconscious to look at the memories the boy left behind of who he was. Even now after everything Michael still loves his Father, and his Father had commanded him to love humans. And even if that wasn't the case, Adam did die for his cause. The boy at least deserves that much.
Adam's memories are many. Despite his short human life, he lived a full one. Some which he couldn't have consciously remembered, but there locked deep into his unconscious. His first steps, the lullaby Kate Milligan would sing to him, his first time riding a bike, his first fake ID so that he could get a part time job of all things, sitting on the couch with his mother watching movies. They are all trivial things utterly human, but Michael has an infinity in the cage to endure. Compared to ripping grace out of Lucifer, this is pleasant.
It helps that Adam was a fascinating human.
Adam is fourteen, tall, gangly, awkward in his adolescence, and completely enamoured by his best friend Kristen McGee. He gets her flowers everyday, walks with her to school, walks her home from school, sometimes even cooks for her. It is incredibly adorable in it's own way.
Adam is ten, it was Mother's Day, and Adam is pacing around in the room at 3 am in the morning, determined and waiting for his mother to get home. And Kate Milligan is greeted, taken by the hand, sat on the couch, while Adam reheats the cold food he cooked earlier at 5am, the helps up up to bed, and curls in next to her, whispering “Happy Mother's Day” into her hair.
Adam is twelve and sitting grumpily in front of the TV, eating a cold dinner. Next to him his mother had her face buried in her hands whispering “I'm sorry” over and over. John Winchester has just left an hour back.
(And then Adam is reading to him, voice low and calm, as he stretches out languidly on the grass. One hand turning pages of his book, the other buried in the feathers of Michael's wings.)
Lucifer's ice cold grace spiking into him brings him out of Adam's memories. Michael doesn't know how long he'd even been inside Adam's mind. But it seems like it's been long enough, because Lucifer has healed himself.
And back in Adam's mind there's Adam at seventeen spending hours talking to his mom, reassuring her, that yes he's fine, yes he's sleeping on time, yes he's eating properly, no he doesn't have a girlfriend yet, Jesus it's too soon, and no it's not because one of his professors are hot and he's pining over them, where the hell did that even come from Mom?
There's Adam at eleven, sewing the tears in his jeans.
There's Adam at fourteen, passing Kristen notes in class.
There's Adam at sixteen kissing Kristen like she's his world.
(And Adam is in the garden next to him, dozing on Michael's wing in his heaven's lazy afternoon sunlight.)
And somewhere along the line, Michael is enchanted.
And then Adam is eleven, and Kristen's father is teaching him to play the guitar.
He is four and clinging to his mother's pant legs not letting her go to the hospital, because one of the older boys told him zombies live there. And zombies eat humans. And Adam doesn't want his mother to get eaten.
He is twelve, eyes downcast not looking at his mother, or the cigarette stub she's holding. His cigarette stub.
He is ten and lying to the teacher about his homework.
Adam is seventeen and kissing a boy in a back alley, hot needy and desperate, hands fisted in the other's shirt.
(And Adam is kissing his face, his wings, him. Needy, and like a drowned man gulping in air.)
It turns into an endless cycle from there. Fighting Lucifer until he's injured too much and retreats into a corner of the cage, and then spending time in Adam's head seeing the person who Adam was. Lucifer starts mocking him for it. Michael gets more angry, and attacks him more, intent to kill.
He finally gets out, on his own, after a long time. The sun is warm on his face. Michael hasn't been on Earth much since it was created, but he's missed earth. He takes a deep breath of fresh sulphur free air, lets it settles in his lungs and relishes it.
Adam's lungs, a part of his mind informs him.
Something like regret curls hot and heavy in his belly, and it suddenly becomes very hard for Michael to breath.
He should go to Heaven. He's heard the rumours in his captivity, about Castiel, about the treasures, about the civil war. Raphael is waiting for him, Raphael needs him. Instead he sneaks in, undetected, like a thief, and makes his way to Kate Milligan's heaven. Kate's heaven whose good memories center on Adam.
Adam is sixteen trying to set his mother up with someone. The date goes horribly wrong. Then he's getting out the cereal and chocolate stash, and setting it in between Kate and himself while they watch Casablanca while listening to Kate bitch. By the time the movie is over and they pop in Gone With The Wind, the TV is on mute, and they're improvising and making up their own dialogue.
Then Adam is a baby, barely six months old, laughing at Kate as he plays peek a boo with him.
Adam is eighteen and home for his birthday. And he and Kate are in the kitchen cooking, humming Sinatra's “Summer Wine” together.
Adam is fifteen. Kate watches him quietly from the corner, as he sits in the children's ward of the hospital reading to the patients there, complete with different voices for the characters and incredibly exaggerated actions. Michael watches too, something fond brimming in his chest, coupled with a needy ache of something he cannot have. Not any more.
(And then Adam is under him on the grass, in their heaven. His eyes blown wide, mouth open, gasping and panting and mewling, hands tangling into his hair, feathers, anything of Michael he can get a hold off, arching up into him with every roll of Michael's hips. He breathes out Michael's name like a prayer. He pleads, and begs, like as if this was the only thing he's ever known, and Michael is the one denying him.
“I love you,” Michael whispers against his skin, choking down heavily on the saliva heavy in his throat. Trying to swallow the lump forming there. Adam smiles at him, like the sun. Bright and blinding.)
Adam says yes. Michael fills him, spreading grace along nerves into every nook and crevice of Adam's body relishing the feel of his vessel. Here everything begins...
… and ends.