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Adam is in hell. He knows he's in hell because the raging hellfire and utter damnation rake across his soul as thorns through cloth, ragged and painfully terrifying. He knows it's hell. In fact, it's the center of hell, for he sits in the cage meant for Lucifer.
It wouldn't be as bad if he was alone, he thinks, because if there's one thing about the cage, it's that no one can get in, just as no one can get out. Sure, there are probably a million things wrong with that statement because, in the end, it's still smack dab in the middle of hell, but the point stands.
But he sits in the damned thing with Michael and Lucifer themselves, and for a pair of millennium-old archangels, they're remarkably tantrum-throwing, whiny, and stabby brothers.
Adam does not pity them.
Who he does pity is the last person in their little get-together.
Sam Winchester, his older half-brother.
Oh, he definitely has a bad impression of the guy when he is first revived by those bloody bastards who like to masquerade as angels, but that changes when he actually comes back for him and almost dies helping him. Yeah, so maybe they don't save him in the end, big deal. Not like Adam is even really alive. But they try, and that is more than their mutual dad has ever thought to do, so Adam is willing to give them points for that. (Plus, the only other option is Zachariah, and that bastard is a goddamned monster, and that's saying something.)
Still, that doesn't mean he likes the guy or anything. Sam is okay, he guesses. Maybe less, since he did kinda get taken over by the fucking devil.
Adam has said yes to Michael, but saying yes to Lucifer is an entirely different deal.
Except. Except there is a plan. Of course there is. Sam Winchester is fucking playing the devil and takes control for one shining second, jumping into the cage, intending to be alone there for eternity.
But Michael doesn't let him, and Adam can only watch hopelessly from the back seat of all back seats as he gets dragged with him down and down and down the stupid rabbit hole.
They land in a cage, and the trap springs shut, and then it's just him, Sam, Michael, and Lucifer, and no one can even come near them.
Great.
The first thing Sam does - or, well, his soul (the details are kinda fuzzy, but Adam doesn't really care right now) - is step in front of Adam.
Adam doesn't understand the significance of that until much later.
Then, as Lucifer and Michael, ignoring these pesky peasants, burst into that whiny tantrum-slash-argument Adam mentioned earlier, Sam turns to him and apologizes. It's nothing special, but it's heartfelt (soul-felt?), and it's true, and Adam is ready to say it's okay, which is kind of weird, because who apologies in hell?
And then Michael and Lucifer turn their attention to the pair of humans stuck with them. Adam finally comprehends how much shit is going to go down because they're fucking dead, down in hell, and eternally there to feel the wrath of two bloodthirsty angels bent on showing them exactly why you don't mess with the apocalypse.
Adam is not ready.
But he doesn't have to be because he's more like an ant to them. Why bother with Adam when they can mess with Sam, the one who ruined their whole plan? Who basically fucked them over? Who neither of them saw coming because they were so utterly sure of their success?
Yeah, Adam would be embarrassed, too.
… He has to say, watching Sam being tortured might just be torture all on its own.
Sam screams and cries and roars in pain. He burns, his soul tearing itself up again and again and again until it stitches itself back together all fucking wrong.
Michael and Lucifer laugh.
Adam watches.
Sam continues to scream.
It goes on for a long damn time. Months. Years. Adam loses track because the thing is, when there are two fucking angels in the damn cage with you, you tend to focus on more important things. Like the fact that any day now, they'd get tired of destroying Sam and turn on him. Immortals are fickle like that, and he's not naive enough to believe that being an ant spares him from the torture.
Except… except it does, for the moment Lucifer or Michael seem to be getting bored, Sam rears up, unafraid, unaffected. No, that's wrong - he is very much affected, but he is also not broken, not in the way those blasted heaven-sent heroes want him to be. No, he is barely hanging on, but he is hanging on, and whenever either of the archangels is about to lose interest, about to turn to Adam, Sam Winchester grins. He smirks and laughs and tells those fucking entities where to shove it, confirming his bloody torture for another hundred years while also confirming Adam's relative safety for another hundred years.
Adam can't move, and he can't reciprocate. He has a feeling Sam doesn't want him to.
( Is this what big brothers are like? He thinks. Is this how they're supposed to be? If it is… I wish I had met them sooner.)
Their time in Lucifer's cage is by no means short. But it is educational.
And if there's one thing Adam can be sure about, Sam (Winchesters) lives off of protecting someone. They're stronger when they do, and when it's family on that end? Well, you better stay back 'cause nothing's standing in their way. Nothing stands in Sam's way of protecting Adam, even if it means self-sacrifice in ways Adam can't even imagine.
God, he really needs to figure out how his brother can consistently piss off two bastard archangels for hundreds of years without once losing their antipathy. It has to be some kind of skill.
(And maybe, just maybe, if he can learn to take attention off Sam, he can be a brother worth protecting.)