Intima Duellum

There’s nothing worse than digging oneself out of one’s own grave, but Adam Milligan had no choice, unless of course he wanted to suffocate in the wooden box he was buried in. The air inside the coffin was stale and still, choking him, making him cough and gasp as he scratched blindly at the lid. His fingers and nails did nothing to move the stubborn wood, and out of sheer frustration and anger he punched the top and cracked it. After a few more hits and kicks, the wood was broken enough for him to shift aside. Clods of dirt and rock collapsed into his grave. Adam opened his mouth to scream but only a hoarse whimper came out; his throat was parched.

Careful, Adam. You’re no good to us dead.

Adam wanted to tell Michael to shut the fuck up, but decided against it. He was pretty sure the archangel already knew that he wanted silence in his head. After all, Michael could hear his every thought.

It took about fifteen minutes for Adam to fully claw, scratch, and dig his way to the surface before he was able to free himself of the hole he was buried in. His hand popped through the surface and he could feel the cool air on the other side. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was for something warm and sturdy to grab onto him: another hand. Without warning, Adam was lifted up and out of his grave before collapsing to the ground, dizzy and lightheaded from the sudden movement. He was covered in dirt and every bone in his body ached from lying there for however long he’d been dead, but the fresh air was a blessing to his lungs.

“Adam?”

The gruff male voice was oddly familiar. Adam took a moment to catch his breath and regain control over his heartbeat before bothering to roll over onto his back and get a good look at his rescuer.

His voice caught in his throat as he tried to speak for the first time. “C-C-Cas...Castiel?” Adam stuttered.

The blue-eyed angel leaned down towards him, shielding him from the bright afternoon sun. His dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“Ch-choking...” Adam coughed; a few flecks of blood spewed from his mouth and landed on the grass.

Castiel touched a hand to Adam’s forehead. Instantly, warmth spread throughout his body, his aching limbs were sore no more, and his throat was healed and felt hydrated. Adam recovered from his dizziness within seconds, but the pounding behind his eyes wasn’t gone. He supposed that was just one of the side effects of having two wayward angels stashed beneath his skin, riding his body like a carousel at a carnival.

Leave it to Castiel to save you. He loves the wayward puppies, doesn’t he?

Adam shoved Lucifer to the back of his mind violently. He didn’t want to hear anything from the fallen angel. Not now, not ever.

Cas grabbed Adam none too gently by the elbow and helped him rise to his feet. “You’re supposed to be stuck in Lucifer’s cage,” the angel said, nonplussed.

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” Adam retorted, shaking bits of dirt from his blonde hair. “What was that all about, anyway? Leaving me down there to rot?”

Cas shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I think your complaints are best left for Sam and Dean.”

“Right. Of course they are.” Adam rolled his eyes and turned around, taking in his surroundings for the first time. They were standing in the middle of what used to be a forest, but the green deciduous trees were felled in every direction.

It looked familiar. Too familiar. Adam thought back to the last time he’d been revived, when Zachariah had him pulled out of Heaven and put back on earth to serve as Michael’s vessel. But it had been a trick, a trap for Dean.

That wasn’t the point though. The land around him right now looked exactly the same as it did back then, with the fallen trees and the hell-on-earth atmosphere. Which meant only one thing...

“An angel rescued me,” Adam stated, turning back to Cas for confirmation. “You?”

“No. But I have an idea who it might’ve been.”

“Who?”

Cas looked uncomfortably up at the sky. “I’d rather not discuss it here. We could be overheard. Ambushed.” He stepped forward to touch Adam’s shoulder, and in the blink of an eye, the two of them were gone from the ruined field.



“Damnit, Bobby! Where’s Cas? I’ve been screaming to him for the past ten minutes,” Dean raged, slamming Bobby’s front door behind him.

“You’re asking me like I’ve got a damn clue,” Bobby Singer responded from his seat at his desk. He didn’t even look up when Dean stomped into the room, too busy perusing one of the thick volumes spread out in front of him. “Maybe he’s busy doing some angel business up there.”

“And killing Eve isn’t more important than whatever else Cas has going on?” Dean snapped. “This is important, man. If this bitch doesn’t die tonight –”

“Dean, I know tonight’s a big night, but lashing out at me just ‘cause your boyfriend is MIA isn’t gonna fix anything,” Bobby interrupted.

From his seat on the couch, Sam Winchester stifled a snicker. Dean glanced over at him but didn’t bother wasting breath to scold the younger Winchester.

“Well we can’t leave without him. We need him to tell us where Eve is, what she’s got going on, if there’s anything else we need to know –”

“That won’t be possible, Dean.”

Cas’s voice came from nowhere, startling Sam into dropping the book on his lap. Everyone turned to the kitchen, where Cas was standing with one arm wrapped around a young boy’s waist. The kid’s face was covered in dirt and grime, but the longer Dean stared, the more familiar the face became.

“Adam,” Dean breathed. “Adam, is that you?”

“It’s him,” Cas answered for him. “I turned up at his grave just in time to pull him out.”

Dean crossed the floor in two large steps and opened his arms to take Adam from the angel. Cas gently pushed Adam forward and the younger boy fell into Dean’s arms weakly, his legs still weak despite Cas’s best efforts to heal him.

“I’ve already carved sigils onto his ribs. He’s well hidden,” Cas assured them all.

“Jesus, Adam,” Dean breathed, shifting him so that his head rested over Dean’s shoulder and his arms hung limply at his sides. Dean looked up at Cas. “Where did you say you found him?”

“In a field near Whitefish, Montana.” Cas absentmindedly glanced out the window at the setting sun. “I overheard a low-ranking angel talking about ‘retrieving the Winchester boy.’ I assumed he didn’t mean either of you, considering how well hidden you are from prying eyes.” He was referring to the Enochian sigils carved on their own ribs that hid them from all kinds of supernatural creatures, including the angels and Cas himself. Cas sighed. “And that’s when I remembered Adam, and so I went to get him. Again.”

Again. This was the second time Cas had been there to get Adam before any other angels. The last time, it had been Zachariah who had wanted the boy to use as bait for Dean.

Dean began to move Adam towards the couch, where Sam stood up to make room for him. Cas followed behind, slowly, as if unsure whether or not he was welcome at the moment. Dean lay Adam on his back and the boy groaned and shifted around uncomfortably before his breathing calmed. He didn’t seem to mind the dirt all over his face at the moment; exhaustion was sapping his body of all energy.

Dean turned to Cas. “Thanks, Cas.”

The blue-eyed angel nodded once.

“Do you have any idea how he got out of the pit?” Sam asked. Bobby leaned forward, equally as curious.

Cas looked down at Adam, whose eyes were shut tight, pretending to be asleep. “I have an educated guess.”

“Great. Guess away,” Dean insisted, folding his arms across his chest.

“Raphael,” Cas said simply.

There was a beat of silence before Sam pressed on. “What about Raphael?”

“I believe he may have done this. Pulled Adam from the pit.”

“Why do something like that?” Bobby asked as he stood up from the desk to join the pow-wow in the center of the room.

“He wants the Apocalypse to happen. I believe he’ll stop at nothing to make it so. There’s not a single line he won’t cross to make it happen, and that includes releasing Adam from the pit.”

“But why Adam? Why not just yank Michael and Lucifer out together and let them duke it out once and for all?” Dean asked.

Cas’s eyebrows furrowed. “Yes, I’ve been wondering that as well. I might be able to find out. I just need some time –”

And with that, Cas vanished into thin air.

“Damnit!” Dean snapped.

“What’d you expect?” Sam asked. “You know how he is...” He trailed off as his gaze caught sight of Adam again. “Poor kid.”

“You know he’s gonna be pissed when he wakes up,” Bobby interrupted matter-of-factly.

Dean turned to face the old man. “How so?”

“You boys left him down there, Dean. You didn’t do a thing to try and save him.”

“That’s absolute bull. We never stopped thinking about him. D’you know how guilty we felt, letting him rot down there?” Dean snapped, pointing a finger at the boy.

“Actions speak louder than words, boy,” Bobby said. “And your actions say jack squat.”

Dean swallowed hard before looking down at his half-brother, a guilty look hidden away on his face. Sam had a similar expression drawn on his own features, but he looked worse for wear; Sam always felt internally guilty that he’d been rescued while Adam was abandoned. He never said it aloud, but sometimes Dean felt like he could read Sam’s mind or feel what he was thinking, and he knew sometimes his thoughts trailed back to Adam Milligan.

Dean cleared his throat. “When he wakes up, we’ll explain it to him.”

“Explain what?” Sam asked.

“Everything. Every damn detail since he’s been left down there. No lies, and no secrets. Hopefully, he forgives us. Hopefully he understands.”

He looked to Bobby for clarification, but the doubtful look on the old man’s face only made him feel less confident of Adam’s forgiveness.



Adam, I’m hungry.

Go away, Lucifer.

You know you won’t be able to keep me locked in the back of your mind forever, boy. Not without a little nourishment.

I hope you’re ready to starve.

And I hope you’re ready to meet the monster within.

Never.

One day, soon. You’ll snap and go overboard. And then you’ll wish you’d taken my advice.

And what advice would that be?

Adam was secretly wondering where Michael was in all of this. Perhaps the older brother simply didn’t give a shit.

Feed yourself now, before it’s too late. You’ll thank me later.

Feed on what?

I think you already know the answer to that one, Adam.

And with that, he was gone. The utter silence in his head terrified him even more now, because he knew Lucifer was right. Without ‘proper’ nourishment, Lucifer would break free of his mind and take control over his body.

...He needed to feed.