and like maybe my cage fic will come together into a good story about Adam falling in love with Michael while Lucifer tortured Sammy on the side.
For the sake their growing - friendship? partnership? eternal mutual imprisonment? whatever - Adam made A Point never to point out to Michael when Lucifer was actually getting to him. Michael liked to say he was above indulging Lucifer in anything, and that was true enough in a lot of cases. And it's not like Adam had a lot of practice dealing with a brother, much less one like Lucifer, so who was he to judge? Adam didn't like their weekly board game sessions, but there was a lot of things he didn't like. This was relatively painless.
He looked at Sam, who was pale and thin. He was shivering, a lot. The game room was ice cold, as Lucifer preferred, but Michael always made sure Adam was warm and comfortable. .Sam’s left arm had been torn off during some other game that made Lucifer beam, Sam swallow, and Michael roll his eyes. Adam didn't want to know. He didn't need to know. It's not like he owed Sam anything. Sam was the reason he was trapped in this cage. Forever.
Still, his conscience was difficult to ignore. "I think Sam probably needs both hands for this game."
"Yes," Lucifer brushed his hand through Sam's hair. Which, now that Adam was no longer trying to ignore him, was actually the weirdest part of everything. His hair was perfect. Shampoo commercial perfect. It looked so soft that Adam's fingers itches to touch. Which, was wrong. On so many levels. Like the part where they were brothers and brothers do not think that about their brothers. Sure, Adam was hardly an expert, seeing as John decided to keep the little fact he had two brothers from him and that, you know, monsters were real and could eat him. Which they did. Setting that aside. He was sure brothers didn't think that way about each other. "We talked about that, didn't we, Sammy?"
Sam was silent until Lucifer's thumb brushed under his chin. "Yes."
"You only have yourself to blame," Lucifer clicked his tongue and shook his head, "why don't your baby brother why you had to lose your arm?"
Sam's eyes flickered over to Adam, briefly. Then he dropped his head. "I'd rather not."
Lucifer sounded so jolly when he said, "I'm not asking, roomie."
Michael came to the rescue. "You're not to traumatize my vessel." You'd think Adam would be used to the devil pouting seeing as he'd suffered through the experience so often. But no, he wasn't. "He's also right. Hands are required for this game,” Pointedly, he added, ”the rules you designed are very specific about that."
"Killjoy," Lucifer said. But there was no heat in his voice. He snapped his fingers and Sam nearly fell of his chair from the flinch that produced. But Sam was whole. Physically, at lease. Only, he looked significantly less happy than he’d be sans arm. Lucifer, of course, picked up on that. "You don't seem grateful about my generosity."
Sam opened his mouth. He looked over at Adam, again. The guilt he'd been trying to avoid went up about ten fold at what he saw. For some ungodly reason, Sam lowered his head and waited to be punished instead of answering. Adam had only the vaguest idea about how their relationship worked beyond torture, but it didn't take a genius to pick up that Lucifer expected to be answered. Hell, Adam found himself answering when Lucifer designed to speak to him. And he had protection from an archangel stronger than him. Sam had nothing.
As Lucifer rolled the dice, Sam started to scream.
“I think I’m beginning to become jaded,” Adam said. Michael glared at Sam, which was both endearing and frustrating.
“Hear that, Sammy?” Lucifer patted Sam on the back, “You don’t need to play the protective big brother anymore.” He leaned in close and stage whispered into Sam’s ear, “Probably for the best seeing as you’re so bad at it.”
Michael tolerated the screaming for about five minutes before snapping his fingers. The screams suddenly stopped and Sam fell to the ground. The sound of his body crashing against angelic carpet nearly made Adam throw up.
“Mikey,” Lucifer said after he studied Sam’s prone form for a moment, “I would be pissed, but I have to say, I’m really impressed with your work there. You even gave me some ideas. Better stay on his good side, littlest Winchester.”
Adam threw down the dice and moved his figure pasted Lucifer’s. “My name is Milligan.”
“You just gave Lucifer all your battle points,” Michael said, not unkindly, “and lost your life”
“Good,” Adam said, leaning back in the chair and folding his arm. “That means I no longer have to play.”
Summary: “What are you doing here?” Sam asked eventually. “What do you want?"
“Just wondering about what I’m going to do about you,” Lucifer answered.
“Are you going to kill me?”
At that, Lucifer just snorted. “Don’t be stupid. You’re as good as dead already. I couldn’t kill you even if I tried.” Then he smirked. “And let’s say I could kill you, where would be the fun in that?”
Warning: some violence, cage fic, no torture though
Thanks to @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell for beta reading. I’m also tagging @brieflymaximumprincess, because you might want to see this.
When Nick hears that Lucifer is back in the cage again, he tries everything he can to get to his favorite archangel.
This fic is inspired by this wonderful piece of art by @mashuradi
read it on AO3
If you say yes to Satan taking over your body to destroy the world, it’s probably no surprise, if you end up in hell after you die. Still, Nick is a bit offended, when they hang him on the racks like everyone else. “I kind of hoped for a VIP suit, you know?” he tells the demon who does it.
The demon gives a smile that holds no humor and carries on with his work.
There is no torture, though. They just let him wait. Or maybe that is his torture, because it gives him time to think about what he had and what he doesn’t have any more. Lucifer’s cold grace curled up against his soul. Like being chained to a comet, breathtaking and beautiful. It almost burned him up, but still he wants it back.
Nick remembers the archangel chuckle in his head, when he showed him what the world looked like from the perspective of an immortal being. When Nick had realized how insignificant his own suffering was. When he had left it behind to just be and experience and bask in the glory that is creation.
There is a faint hope that when everything is over Lucifer will return to him. Of course he has his true vessel now – and Nick can’t be jealous of Sam after he has seen him through the archangel’s eyes, after he has felt the love Lucifer holds for him, after he has shared that love – but he kind of hopes that Lucifer will remember him, take him off the rack, grace him with his presence now and then. He doesn’t want to believe that after God has forsaken him the devil has, too.
But Lucifer doesn’t come and Nick tries not to get bitter, but –
Then he hears the news. Sam has accomplished the impossible. Lucifer is back in the cage again. And Nick has seen memories of the cage, too, when they were joined, and his heart breaks, when he remembers the loneliness, the darkness, the cold and the silent rage. The despair that had only been held at bay, because Lucifer had known, one day Sam Winchester would come and free him. Now Sam Winchester is down there with him. There is no hope any more.
“What do I have to do to get thrown into the cage?” Nick asks one of the demons, who pass by.
The demon stops and looks at him like he can’t quite believe what he just heard. “You want to be thrown in the most terrible prison in the deepest depth of hell?”
Nick smiles. “You know, I have a friend down there. I kind of miss him.”
The demon hesitates for a moment, then he steps closer. “I know who you are,” he whispers. “And that’s the only reason I’m even considering this. I can get you in. But no one can ever get you out again.”
Again, Nick smiles. “It’s not like I have any other plans.”
Sam doesn’t know how long he’s been down here. He only knows that this prison was intended for one archangel. Now there are two of them, fighting for what feels like an eternity by now. Michael seems convinced, if he can finish this, if he can kill his brother, God will come and get him out and everything will be well again. Well, except for the fact that he killed his brother. And Sam thinks that thought is the only reason none of them has won yet. None of them really wants to be the one who killed the other.
So Sam can do nothing but wait, wait for it to be over, curled around his own brother in a corner of the cage. Razor sharp archangel wings slice his back and grace burns his skin, because there’s just not enough space to get far enough away from this fight. But at least Adam is mostly safe. Poor Adam.
Then Lucifer falls, his blade clattering to the floor. Sam risks a glance and he sees Michael towering over his brother, angel blade ready for the final blow. Sam isn’t sure why between all the relief about it being over soon he feels sorrow, too.
Suddenly another figure is there. For a moment Sam thinks it’s a trick just like the ones Gabriel likes so much, because Lucifer seems to be there twice now. He has assumed Nick’s form as soon as he’s been forced out of Sam’s body by the fall, and the second Nick picks up Lucifer’s archangel blade and points it at Michael. “Don’t you dare hurt him!”
Michael looks at him in puzzlement for a second. “Step aside, human. I have no intention of hurting you, but I will, if you don’t leave me any choice.”
Lucifer groans, pushes himself up again. “Nick,” he says. “Step aside. You’ve done enough for me.”
So this is Nick? Slowly Sam gets up, too, not sure what to do, but feeling like he has to do something.
The blond man shakes his head. “No.” Then his resolve falters a bit, though. “Please. He still loves you. Please! What kind of father forces his sons to kill each other? This won’t make it better.”
“Nick!” Lucifer’s voice sounds a bit sharper now, but Nick doesn’t takes his eyes from Michael for one second. And before he can even think about it, Sam steps forward and stands next to Nick, putting himself between the two archangels. Distantly he notices that he leaves a bloody trail on the floor from the wounds he got from just trying to stay out of this fight. If this goes wrong, they’ll all be dead, but at least that way it’ll finally be over, too. “He’s right. It’s enough. He’s your brother and you don’t have to do this. We tore the pages out of the book anyway. There’s no great plan anymore. You have a choice.”
For a moment, Michael just stands there, angel blade ready to strike. And suddenly Sam feels cold metal press against his palm. When he glances in Nick’s direction, the blond man is trying to hand him Lucifer’s blade. “Here. I have no idea what to do with this anyway.”
“You stepped between two angry archangels and you don’t even know how to fight?” Sam takes the blade, feels the cold metal hum against his skin with an echo of Lucifer’s grace, sees Michael’s eyes – his father’s eyes technically, because Michael is in John Winchester’s form – follow his every move.
Nick shrugs. “He showed me beauty, when I thought there was nothing left worth living for anymore. And he’s the only good thing I’ve left now.”
Maybe Sam is imaging it, but Michael’s expression gets a bit softer at that. He doesn’t lower his weapon, though. Sam tightens his grip on the archangel blade, waits for an attack. He tries to tell himself that he’s defending Nick, poor Nick, whose life had been turned on it’s head, because Sam had said no. But there’s also that part of him that remembers what it feels like to share a body with Lucifer, to feel whole for the first time in his life. And they’re in the cage now, no one will get hurt by him giving in to the pull he feels since that day in the chapel, where Lilith has died.
There’s movement behind Sam. Lucifer’s presence makes his skin prickle and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but Sam doesn’t turn, he keeps watching his opponent. Then there’s an icy cold hand on his shoulder and the shadows of wings furl around Sam and Nick, shielding them from Michael.
“I don’t want to fight you, Michael,” Lucifer says. “I never wanted to kill you. But if you hurt my vessels, you’re dead.”
Finally, Michael takes a step back. “So you care about humans now.”
“Those two are mine.”
It’s not an answer, but Michael’s archangel blade clatters to the floor. “You idiot,” he mutters. “You had to fall into this wretched pit twice, before you started to do what he asked you to.” And just like that, he retreats into the farthest corner of the cage.
“I don’t love them!” Lucifer calls after his brother, but it doesn’t sound very convincing even to Sam.
Finally, Sam turns. He holds Lucifer’s blade out to him, hilt first. A peace offering. Lucifer takes his weapon back with a slight smile on his face. Then there is a cold hand on Sam’s forehead, and the pain in his back subsides.
“So you did what I asked of you after all?” Nick says after a while.
Lucifer just shrugs and turns away.
Sam looks from one to the other. “What did you ask him to do?”
Nick grins. “To let you win. You don’t think you can win a mind wrestling match against an archangel, if he doesn’t want you to, do you?”
Sam gapes. That can’t be true, can it? On the other hand he had thought the same thing before. That all it had taken was calming Lucifer’s rage after Michael had called him a freak, and then it had been surprisingly easy.
“Don’t get any ideas.” Lucifer folds his arms in front of his chest. “I still think humanity is a crawling pile of cockroaches and I’m happy about every single one of them I got to take out, while I was topside. But what kind of revenge would it have been, if I had followed Father’s plan? He wanted Michael and me to fight after all.”
And Sam has to admit, that makes sense. In a way.
“Great,” comes a voice from where Adam is still more or less curled up. “Just great. That’s exactly the kind of company I wanted to spend the rest of eternity in.”
Lucifer shoots him a smile that’s more a show of teeth. “Be grateful I don’t touch Michael’s stuff, little one.”
“You better not!” Michael calls from his corner.
Sam sighs. At least they’re not fighting any more now. And maybe, if they give this a few thousand years, they can work something out that’s more than a very brittle peace. Maybe their stay down here doesn’t have to be absolute hell.
He looks at Nick and gets a reassuring smile from the blond man. Or not hell at all.
Lucifer invites Adam to join his playdate with Sammy. :) CW: Torture, sexual assault. Rough draft. I’m trying to decide how Lucifer’s mangled Sam’s body. To quote god, writing is hard.
Michael was prone and the cage was cold. Becoming dark. The warmth of Adam's childhood home melted into bars before his eyes. He could hear heavy breathing and cries accompanying the once familiar sound of organs being dissected.
John bought his textbooks sophomore year. With stolen credit Zachariah helpfully informed him during his sales pitch to be Michael's sword. Jack grabbed Michael's hand. A copy of his own. More exact than an identical twin or even a clone. There was no such thing as an exact replica of another in the natural world.
Adam lived in cosmic nothingness.
The sound of the devil coming closer clashed with the storm outside their cage. Adam focused on the heat radiating from Michael's temporary corpse. It kept him from shivering.
("My brother burns cold," Michael had told him, "I can freeze the world with flames. Father thought it was poetic."
"Or was recreating what he had with Amara with their yin/yang thing." Michael tilted his head like a confused puppy. It had been terrifying. Adam amended with sweaty palms, "I never got poetry. So - "
"You are not wrong," Michael said. His lips had twitched into a promise of a smile. "Sacrilegious, yes, but correct, nonetheless.")
"If I didn't know better," Lucifer's hand curled around his shoulder, "I'd say my dad was giving me a gift." His traced his finger across Adam's throat. It was bare. Quite suddenly, everything was. Adam ignored it and tried to ignore the cold fingers prodding him. "Is it Christmas, Sammy? Maybe Santa decided to pay us a visit while I didn't let you sleep."
No one answered.
Lucifer snapped his fingers. There was no response save the bile building in Adam's throat.
"Oh," Lucifer said, sounding mildly suprised, "yeah. I forgot. I got rid of Sam's vocal chords. He's working on earning them back. He lost that privilage for overusing please." Lucifer forced his head up so Adam couldn't avoid looking at his eyes. "Your big brother went to Stanford on a scholarship and expects me to be satified with such a limited vocabulary? I really deserve some five dollar words now and then, y'know?"
"Get him a dictonary," Adam said.
Lucifer pulled him up and close. Chest to chest, swaing like lovers. "Your bastard half-brother has given me a new idea for a game, Sam." He twirled Adam around with one hand and pulled him in. Adam was frozen. Not completely - his organs still worked - but Adam couldn't control any part of his body. "I hope you haven't forgotten how I expect you to show gratitude."
Adam was forced to look at Sam.
Lucifer's lips were brushing across the side of Adam's face, "Don't worry. He'll be pretty again when he's on his knees and thanking you."
Warnings and Tags: cage fic, hurt, and comfort, soft touches, implied torture, implied torture, cuddles, grace, souls, angst
Ship: Sam Winchester/Michael
Author Notes: The WIPs come in many shapes and sizes and this was one that I forgot about. Completed for @spnrareships rare pair Fridays.
Summary: Lucifer calls Michael crazy for a lot of reasons.
Read Strange Comfort, Rated Mature, in full below or read on my Ao3*.
*note, this story (and all of my others) on Ao3 is locked for registered Ao3 users.
Strange Comfort
"Sam."
He flinched. That wasn't the voice he was used to calling his name, but in fifty years, Michael had never been pleasant.
"My brother seems otherwise distracted. We thought you would like a reprieve."
Sam relaxed, trying to take stock of the construct that Michael had made around them. His eyes opened and blinked at the soft lighting of the plain, grayscale bedroom. His eyes roved around the room before falling on the sofa that sat where a door would be if Michael had made one, and took in Michael's even expression as he sat facing Sam and the bed.
"Thank you," Sam shifted, knowing to be polite to the Viceroy by now. He closed his eyes, relaxing into the soft feeling of the mattress with a sigh. If Michael was going to do something, it wasn't like he could stop it, he may as well enjoy the feeling of soft sheets and a bed. "Is Adam okay?"
"Yes. He thought perhaps you have suffered enough of my ire."
Sam could hear the archangel shift with slight discomfort across from him. While Michael had seemed to tire of torturing him decades ago, the archangel hadn't intervened besides outbursts of rage towards Lucifer that seemed to have nothing to do with Sam. Adam hadn't cared. He had always been too broken by what he had been dragged into to care about Sam and, as far as the brunette could tell, a decade or so ago Michael had started to spend more time with his once vessel.
"It's okay," Sam managed after a moment, curling up on his side, enjoying the soft caress of linens. "I broke everything."
Michael frowned at the soft, muffled words, words that lacked the arrogance and defiance that had always reminded him of Lucifer. There was a long pause as Sam turned onto his side, holding tighter to the spare pillow that the archangel had provided and pulling it to his chest.
"You could not possibly break anything," he said, his brows pinching as he sat up more.
"I messed up your plan."
Sam was too tired to state any of the other reasons why Michael was wrong. Instead, he simply repeated the one that he'd heard throughout countless years with Lucifer's wrath.
The archangel looked over the human-shaped lump on the bed before looking down. "It was our Father's plan, not mine… not his." Michael's eyes seemed to rove the space he had created within the confines of the Cage and Sam's mind. "I never wanted to kill him. Or you." His lips were still pulled into a frown when he looked back at Sam. "But that can't happen now. Lucifer will not win, and we can not finish what Father wanted. At least not now."
"Sorry," the soul managed, closing his eyes at the feeling of Michael's stare and unnerving attention. He would never apologize for stopping it, Michael knew that, but Sam didn't know if he was really sorry for starting it just then, or if he was just sorry for Michael's situation.
It hadn't taken them long to realize that no one was coming for them. Particularly, that no one was coming for Michael. Lucifer had had his shot and failed, Sam had known Gabriel's backdoor had been a one-way ticket, and Adam didn't have anyone to look for him, he was already dead on Earth. The true ruler of Heaven was the only one that should have been worthy of raising, but his siblings had dismissed him, like they did any of their fallen brethren. Sam, despite the constant onslaught of rage, hate, and disappointment from Lucifer and Michael's anger and cold disregard, couldn't help sympathizing with the eldest archangel.
"I believe you have apologized enough, Samuel," Michael said, looking over the scarred soul curled into itself that was trying to enjoy the lack of assault on it. "You are only human."
Sam huffed, he felt like he had been alive for almost a century. He felt too old and brittle to still be human. Before coming here he hadn't felt normal because of the demon blood, and he had gorged himself in it before getting trapped here. Sam didn't make a habit of verbally disagreeing with archangels anymore, it wasn't worth it here. It didn't matter, though, they always knew, and Michael could sense his disagreement as clearly as if he had said it aloud.
The flame of the Host shifted, standing and moving to the bed. He hesitated, looking over the fracturing soul. "You are human, Sam. Very much so," the archangel said, making up his mind and touching Sam's shoulder. When Sam flinched again, he sighed, moving onto the bed beside him above the covers. "Humans require affection and warmth."
Spending more time with Adam had slowly reminded the eldest archangel of his Father's first commands about humanity before everything had changed. That they were meant to care for the lesser beings. Sam stiffened under the touch, before feeling the slow-burning warmth of Michael's grace wrap around him. Sam’s eyes fluttered closed, relaxing against him, it was always so cold here. Lucifer's grace had spiked through Sam’s cracking soul, spearing through it and woven into every molecule here. Sam was always so cold. He couldn’t help but press back to Michael as long arms wrapped around him, grace pulling the soul closer.
"Please…" the brunette shifted against him. "More… please, Michael," Sam whispered, shivering under the warmth and stiff solid weight against him.
Michael released a hum, slipping under the covers and pulling the tall frame against his front. His grace pulsed, wrapping around the cracked-open soul that had been ripped apart too many times to fully heal. However, he had promised to try, his grace hummed and Sam let out a soft moan at the heat that filled him. His eyes closed and smiled at the fire that licked at his frozen core.
"Just for a while, Sam," the eldest archangel said softly, pressing a gentle press of his lips against Sam's nape. "I cannot leave Adam for too long."
The quivering soul nodded. "Thank you," Sam whispered, afraid he would take away the heat with his omission. "This is enough…" He released a choked-off whimper, feeling cold tears streak down his face as he melted into the swirling heat all around him.
Sam shuddered as Michael hushed him, holding him tighter as the soul remembered what heat felt like in the embrace of his raging grace.
Lucifer looks everywhere for Sam when they land in the Cage. Adam, Michael, Sam...they were all in there somewhere, but one's senses are always thrown off when in hell. Especially when one is in this particular part of hell. He has searched for an immeasurable amount of time before he finally finds him. Sam is surrounded by amorphous black smoke and appears to be stuck to a wall of some sort, slowly but surely being swallowed hole by it. Everything hurts, as far as Lucifer can guess, but it also looks like Sam has practically given up and is allowing the Cage to consume him. Lucifer pulls him out. He cradles him and comforts him physically as best as he can, manifesting in the form of Nick so as not to scare Sam away. They remain this way until Castiel appears and pulls Sam out. Or at least, he tries to. He has to flee quickly and cannot sense when Sam's soul remains anchored to the Cage and strains Sam so much that he simply breaks into two parts. Lucifer tries to chase Castiel down to give the soul back to its body, but it is too late. So Lucifer holds onto the soul in an attempt to shelter it from the Cage. Of course, the Cage's influence seeps through the cracks in between his fingers, no matter how hard he tries to prevent it from reaching the fragile thing he held (if he actually had real fingers—thing is, it's easier to describe experiences in hell through physical metaphors than it is to express exactly what it is like to be there). Sam's soul is the brightest human soul that Lucifer has ever seen. He attributes this to Sam's pure intentions and his selfless nature more than he attributes it to similar traits in his own Grace. (The morning star would have a bright vessel though, wouldn't it?) Sam's soul is the most beautiful thing in Lucifer's world in the Cage. It begins to go dim and fade and flicker, and next thing Lucifer knows, it is fading before his eyes. He does the only thing he can think of doing: he breathes some of his own Grace into the soul to feed it—to keep it alive. It's like adding kindling to a fire, though. It can't keep it burning forever, but it's a good temporary solution. Michael finds them like this. He has grown accustomed to the Cage and although he had initially set out to find Lucifer because he wanted to reconcile with him, he can't help but stop and admire Lucifer's efforts to save one dying human soul. When Michael asks about it, Lucifer simply states, "This one's different. This is my duty. This is my task." Good soldier after all, Michael does not say. Lucifer and the soul are left alone again as the Cage reroutes and changes everything so it is virtually impossible to find anything anymore. Lucifer continues to kindle Sam's soul and protect it to the best of his abilities. It pulls towards him often times as if it recognises the good intentions in his actions and is accepting the embrace extended to it. Lucifer might have smiled at it if he wasn't so terrified that the soul could flicker and die at any second. It is entirely too long of a time period between when Michael visits and when another visitor arrives. "Hello, Death." "Hello, Lucifer." "Who are you here to see?" "I am here to collect Sam Winchester's soul. His brother has made a deal with me, if you can believe that." "You must have been having a good day." "Horrible day, actually." Lucifer hums. Death watches the archangel stare into the little, dull, white energy in his metaphorical hands. When Lucifer looks up, he makes eye contact with Death. There is a pause, then he speaks in a level tone: "Old friend, will he be alright? Sam, I mean. Will he be better out there than he is in here?" "He will not necessarily be alright," Death explains, "but he will not be in the worst part of hell anymore, so I suppose that the answer to that is yes, in a way." "Good." Lucifer offers an outstretched hand to Death. Death holds out a briefcase. Lucifer holds his loose fist over it for a moment. "You be careful with him," Lucifer warns weakly. "Of course, Lucifer. I always am with people such as Sam Winchester." Lucifer nods. He gently places what had become his most valuable charge into the bag. Death closes it and nods to Lucifer. "I will do what I can for the boy." "Please do." Death turns to leave. "Old friend?" Death turns to face the archangel again. "Yes, Lucifer?" "How much do you know of the future?" "Some, but not much. What do you wish to know?" "Is there any chance that I will see him again?" Death hesitates and calculates the number possibilities in his mind. He sees no future, but he always sees pathways, all of which could eventually become the future. There are more paths for the angel and his true vessel than Death had expected there to be. "Yes. There are several possibilities." "...Thank you." "The pleasure is all mine." And with that, he is gone. And with that, Lucifer is back to square one.
It's cold in the Cage, freezing - which at least explains why Lucifer's so cold, some kind of adaptation for his environment, but it doesn't help when Sam's sitting there amongst the the iced-over walls and watching his breath form white clouds in the still air. Adam long since crawled onto his lap and into his arms, sobbing, shaking, fighting to breathe past the hysteria. He's still now, and Sam hopes he's sleeping, not-
Well. He's not going to think about that.
(Can they even die in the Cage? After all, they're technically dead. Maybe yes, maybe no. Probably no. It's something he'd rather not test, just in case.)
Lucifer and Michael are sat on either side of them, twenty or so meters away in opposite directions, pressed right up against the snow-crusted bars. The metal of them is cold enough that, when Sam touched them earlier, his fingers wouldn't come away. He had to pull them free, tearing a layer of skin off in the process.
Neither Lucifer or Michael have moved in a few days (or months, or years, or seconds. Time's hard to tell when there's no day or night, nothing to keep time other than your own weirdly distorted heartbeat). They're not sleeping, or dead, Sam knows, because every so often he sees their wings twitch, or their shoulders shake. Once, he eve thought he saw Lucifer crying, but it must have been a reflection off the ice.
"Hey!" he calls, cold-shaking voice echoing off the mirror-shine walls, bouncing off the thick bars. "If- if you're both just gonna sit there and sulk- then you can damn well do it over here, so we can at least all be warm.
And for a second nothing happens. Then, as one, Lucifer and Michael look up, and Sam thinks he's gone too far, that they're going to pull Adam's shivering figure away from him and strap him down and torture him, kill him. But the archangels just glance at each other for the merest minute, and then break eye contact, not looking at each other as they cross the floor of the Cage.
Sam flinches when Michael and Lucifer settle on either side of him, but then wings are encircling him and Adam. The archangels press close, Lucifer at his back and Michael at his front, wings barriers of feathers and warmth on either side, silent and strong.
Neither Michael nor Lucifer say anything, or make eye contact with the other, but they seem to be united in their determination to care for their vessels for the time being. Eventually, Sam forces himself to relax, leans back into Lucifer's chest and lets the Devil rest a hand on his arm, thumb rubbing soothing circles against the bare skin of his shoulder until he begins to doze off.
Right before sleep takes him, he sees Michael reach out a tentative hand to stroke through Adam's hair, slow and gentle and awed, and he thinks that they might all be able to survive this after all.
