With a Whimper

“I’m sorry.”

Those were the first words out of Michael’s mouth when they broke the kiss, breathing hard, faces flushed, lips slightly swollen.

Adam panted a little and pressed his forehead against Michael’s. “The hell are you sorry for?”

Michael’s hands tightened around Adam but his face remained calm. “I should not have done that. It was a mistake.”

“A...a mistake?” Adam raised an eyebrow. “Well then by all means, keep making more of them.”

Michael made an irritated noise low in his throat and stepped away from Adam, releasing him and shaking his head. “No. This isn’t right. Neither of us should want this. Myself especially.”

“Why not?”

“Forgive me. I must go to seek Revelation.”

But Michael disappeared in a flutter of wings, leaving Adam alone outside the house.



Michael still wasn’t back from Heaven when Sam, Dean, and Bobby arrived back at the house in the early morning, just as the sun was beginning to rise. Adam had fallen asleep on the couch next to the window, a thin blanket covering his body and one arm thrown over his eyes to shield them from the light.

Like the loving brother he was, Dean kicked Adam awake. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty.”

Adam woke with a jolt and nearly fell off the couch. He looked around wildly before opening his mouth to deliver what would’ve been a worthy Milligan retort, but he caught the look on Dean’s face and stopped. His oldest brother looked...crestfallen. Broken. Torn down the middle. Whatever kind of poetic term Adam tried to slapped onto it, there was one thing he knew for sure: something had gone wrong with whatever they’d been doing.

“Dean,” Adam breathed as he sat up on his elbows. “What...what the hell happened?”

Over in the kitchen, and out of Adam’s line of vision, Bobby chuckled, a low and humorless sound that made Adam shift uncomfortably. “Well that’s just it, ain’t it? Hell happened.”

Adam shook his head, clearing all the cloudy visions from his nightmares away as best he could. “Come again? Hell happened?”

“It’s Cas,” Dean said. He’d turned his face away from Adam, who had the sneaking suspicion that he was trying to mask the pain he’d caught earlier. Too late for that, to be honest. “Cas is...” He trailed off and for a moment Adam thought he wasn’t going to continue, but then he said, “Cas isn’t with us anymore.”

“He’s not dead,” Bobby amended, catching the horrified look that crossed Adam’s face. “He’s alive and well. Too damn well, in fact.”

“I...I don’t get it. What’s going on with Cas?”

Dean didn’t respond but merely studied the wallpaper on Bobby’s wall as if it was the most goddamned interesting wallpaper he’d ever seen in his life. Bobby watched him, eyes never wavering from his face, and nobody answered Adam until Sam stepped into the living room, arms crossed over his chest and looking equally as grim as everyone else. Adam swallowed hard. This wasn’t like Sam; he was so used to the cheerful and upbeat attitude that kept the dysfunctional family somewhat functional, and this completely threw Adam out of his comfort zone.

When he spoke, it didn’t make the youngest Winchester feel any better.

“Adam,” Sam began, his voice low and rough, “have you ever heard of Purgatory?”



Michael found Castiel exactly where he expected the angel to be: sitting on that bench in the park, looking up at the sky, waiting for an answer that would never come no matter how hard he prayed. It saddened Michael to see one of his brothers in such a desperate state, but to hear about his course of action, about his ‘tryst’ with the demon Crowley, about his intentions for Purgatory... it almost angered him more than it upset him.

Almost. Not quite. Castiel was still Michael’s brother and the archangel loved him and always would love him. It ran in the same vein as Michael’s love for Lucifer, albeit not as deeply, but no matter what mistakes the two of them made, they were still family. And it was always about family.

Michael approached the bench from behind, hands clasped behind his back as he watched Castiel’s head fall forward in despair. He didn’t know if the angel would hear him approaching or not, but he stood that way in silence for a few more seconds before announcing himself.

“You wanted to talk to me, Castiel?” Michael said.

Castiel didn’t even react. He sat there, stilled for a moment, before Michael heard him reply, “Yes. Thank you for obliging.”

“I’m always here for you, whenever you need me.” Michael walked around the bench and waited for Castiel to scoot over so he could sit down next to him, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees in a similar manner as the lower-ranking angel next to him. “What’s been troubling you?”

“You have.” The words were not unkind, but there was something deeply disturbing about the way Castiel narrowed his eyes as he spoke, about the way the muscles in his jaw tightened, the way his knuckles turned white as he clenched his hands once.

Michael waited a beat of silence before saying, “Whatever I’ve done to upset you, I apologize.” He paused. “Is this about Adam? About the grace? Do you think I attached the two on purpose, like the Winchesters do?”

“The boy has nothing to do with us.”

“The boy has a name.” Michael said it without quite thinking.

Castiel turned his head to look at Michael, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, lips pursed. “Why the hostility, Michael? Why so defensive? Because he was once your vessel?”

“You wanted to talk.” Michael deftly skirted the subject. “Please, by all means, speak your piece, brother.”

The other angel shook his head slowly, as if calculating what should and shouldn’t be said in Michael’s presence. Eventually, he spoke with all the caution of someone waiting to be hit for speaking blasphemy: “I understand by now you’ve probably heard of my plans concerning Purgatory.” Michael nodded once. He continued. “I am only doing so for the good of Heaven, for the good of the Earth. Raphael is too narrow-minded, too traditionalist. He plans on restarting the Apocalypse, on pitting you and Lucifer against each other once he breaks Lucifer free from the Cage again.” Castiel caught his eye. “And you know he will, especially now that you’re walking the Earth again. Now he knows there are...defects in the Cage’s design. He will study these defects, find them, use them to free Lucifer.”

“There are no defects in the Cage. I built it myself,” Michael interrupted without thinking. “I escaped because I know the design like I know Heaven’s architecture. It is ingrained within me, always present. If there are flaws, they are there because I put them there should there ever be need for them.”

“And you don’t think after thousands of years that Lucifer could discover these ‘flaws’ as well?”

“It is highly unlikely.”

Castiel shook his head and said, “Sometimes your arrogance astounds me, Michael.”

It should’ve been an insult, but Michael merely brushed it off as one would a feather. “You don’t understand it. You never will.”

“But I understand that we cannot allow this Apocalypse to happen,” Castiel hissed under his breath. His eyes were alight with an inner fire. “The world will be devastated, Michael. This world that our Father created, that He put all His love and care into fashioning. He loves these humans so much, and to watch His sons bring them to ruination is something I cannot bear to witness.”

“Castiel—”

“I realize what I say could be considered blasphemous, especially in your presence, because I know you believe it your duty to follow our Father’s word. But please Michael, you must listen to reason. You mustn’t fight Lucifer.”

“Castiel.” Michael spoke louder, trying to catch the angel’s attention. “I have no desire to fight Lucifer. At least, not on this battleground.”

He expected Castiel to look relieved, overjoyed, not confused. His eyebrows furrowed together even more, if possible, and he looked positively wounded. “Why the change of mind?” he asked. “The last time we met, you were so...” he searched for the phrase, no doubt channeling Dean when he said, “...gung-ho about the whole thing.”

The corners of Michael’s lips twisted up in a knowing smile. “Yes, I suppose I did seem very intent on fighting my brother.” He sighed. “Things change, Castiel. People change. I changed.”

“Explain.”

Michael sat in thought for a moment, weighing his words carefully should he say something he didn’t want to give away just yet. “I inhabited Adam’s body in the Cage for a few decades before leaving him.” The memory of Adam’s description of Toretan was seared permanently in the archangel’s mind but he bit back a shudder of revulsion and carried on. “I am sure you know what I mean when I say that after certain lengths of time, you start becoming one with your vessel.”

Castiel predictably nodded understanding. He had been using Jimmy Novak as a vessel for so long now that he sometimes felt overpowered by some of Jimmy’s leftover thoughts, feelings, desires, emotions... Jimmy Novak was dead, but Castiel could still sometimes feel his essence, pieces of him, squirming around in the back of his mind.

Michael was still talking: “Adam is... a strong human. Very strong. He never stopped trying to overpower me, to throw me out of his body and regain control. I was overwhelmed on a few occasions and he almost succeeded at first, but I began to learn his ways and mannerisms and I was able to defend myself before he finally retreated.” Michael swallowed hard. “But when he retreated, he still talked to me. Told me things. Talked about Sam and Dean, about Bobby, about his life before the Winchesters and before the ghouls.” His throat began to close up and he didn’t quite know why. “He told me stories about his childhood and how sometimes Kate Milligan would come home from work early in the mornings but she would leave a cupcake or some sort of other treat for him to wake up to on the kitchen table. He talked about his best friends, his relationships, the places he’d been and the people he’d met and seen. It was like listening to a story and painting a picture in my own mind, and I quite liked what I saw.”

“He taught you,” Castiel breathed.

Michael nodded with his eyes closed. “He was simply passing the time, but he opened my eyes to the world and its possibilities. I’d known humans were precious beings, of course. Why else would Father have us love them more than Him? But it’s been so hard these past few decades here, seeing all the war and carnage and destruction on a daily basis... one almost loses faith in this race.”

Castiel nodded but stayed silence. He’d sometimes all but given up hope where the humans were concerned, but something always kept him hanging on. Always.

“But when Adam talked about his life, everything was as it should be,” Michael said. “Happiness. Tranquility. Peace. Even the sour parts were still laced with bits of sweetness.”

“There is always light in the darkness,” Castiel said with the barest hint of a smile. “Without it, we would lose hope entirely. We’d have nothing to fight for, no cause to strengthen, no banner to hold high.”

Michael nodded, returning Castiel’s smile. “You’ve grown much since I’d last seen you, brother,” Michael said with a hint of sadness. “I am sorry I missed it.”

Castiel shook his head. “You’re here now. That’s what matters, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I’m here, that’s true. I suppose Raphael won’t be too pleased to be... ah, knocked down a peg.” The smirk that crossed Michael’s face wasn’t unkind, merely amused. He knew that Raphael wouldn’t react too affectionately to his post as the figurehead of Heaven’s throne being taken out from under him, but he was sure that Raphael already knew Michael had returned and would expect to be evicted, in a way.

Castiel frowned. “Raphael will not give up his spot so easily, Michael. Once he hears of your choice to discontinue the fight, he will try to sway you. He will try to change your mind.”

“He won’t succeed. I promise you.” Michael caught the younger angel’s blue eyes. “And you must promise me to stop the search for Purgatory. Cut your ties with Crowley while you still can, before you get too involved. I am here now, Castiel. You don’t need to continue carrying this burden alone.”

Castiel’s jaw tightened considerably. “I’m sorry Michael. I can’t do that.”

“And why not?” Michael asked.

Castiel shook his head and sighed, a sound so low and distraught that Michael scooted closer to him on the bench and leaned forward a little bit more to listen to him as he mumbled, “It is not something I expect you to understand. You are far more powerful and much older than I am. It will be hard for you to...sympathize. And in any case, it is of no import.”

“Your problems are always important to me. You are my brother, Castiel. No matter what you tell me, I’ll understand. I of all people know about others misunderstanding one’s own motives.”

But Castiel continued to shake his head. “No. You go take care of Raphael. I will handle Crowley and Purgatory.”

Michael frowned and tried to control the righteous spark in his eye. He didn’t want to lash out at Castiel, least of all now when he seemed so hurt and vulnerable, but he was being so stubborn right now. “You will regret this, you know. Nothing good will come out of this, whatever your reasoning is.”

“I know what I am doing, Michael. I assure you.”

“Castiel, no.”

Before Castiel could respond, a crack of lightning split the sky above them in half. Neither of them jumped or seemed particularly surprised when a female figure appeared a little further down the slope from them in front of the bench. She was dressed in what was probably a designer suit and pair of shoes because that was just how their brother was.

“Raphael.” Michael stood from the bench, heart pounding, unsure whether the lump in his throat was due to brotherly love and ecstasy at seeing him again, or uneasiness because of the look Raphael was shooting him. “Brother. I’ve... missed you.”

‘Missed’ was probably too kind of a word to use, but for the moment Michael couldn’t think of a better synonym.

“You escaped the Cage,” Raphael said, clasping her – his, whatever – hands behind her back and interlocking her fingers together. “I am pleased to see you.”

“Pleased because one half of your plan is now free to walk the Earth again?” Michael asked, cocking an eyebrow. He motioned behind him to Castiel. “Castiel told me you plan to release Lucifer from the Cage to join me here, to restart the Apocalypse.”

“It must be done and you know it,” Raphael said impassively. “Our Father has commanded it and you know it will come to pass. It must come to pass. It is destiny.”

“Destiny has already been thwarted once.”

“But the chances of the Winchesters succeeding a second time? I doubt it. This is our chance, Michael, to shape the world in Heaven’s shadow. To bring peace to this planet so awash in evil and despair. We can begin to cleanse the Earth.”

Michael swallowed hard and clenched his fists at his sides before turning slightly and looking over at Castiel, who was still sitting on the bench with his hands clasped on his lap. “Castiel, will you leave my brother and I for the moment?” In a lower voice, he mumbled, “But we will speak again later. Do you understand?”

Castiel frowned but nodded and was gone in a flutter.

As soon as the younger angel was gone, Michael rounded on Raphael. “You need to stop this,” he hissed. “I am no longer interested in fighting Lucifer. If there is to be a battle between us, it will not happen here. The humans here deserve to live their lives undisturbed.”

“They’ve been disturbing everything else on the planet. I’m sure they will eventually get over having their planet destroyed for the greater good.”

Michael frowned. Raphael was always stubborn, it was true, but he was never this bad. “You would destroy the creatures that Father once told us to love more than Him? You would ruin his most precious creations all for His word?”

“His word is law, Michael. You know that.”

“But perhaps this is a test. Perhaps you are wrong, and humans are more important than His word.”

“Perhaps you are wrong and this is a test to weed those out who truly love Father, unconditionally and wholly.”

The two archangels stood there glaring at each other, each one refusing to yield to the other. Raphael released her hands and sighed, shaking her head slowly back and forth as though she were disappointed in her elder brother. “What’s gotten into you, Michael? You were one of us once.”

“I’m still one of you, Raphael. Just evolved.”

“I don’t see it that way. You’ve become soft. Like Castiel.” Raphael bared her teeth in a wolfish grimace. “You’re one of the Winchesters’ pet angels now, aren’t you?”

Without thinking twice, Michael was in front of Raphael, grabbing her pressed shirt collar and snarling into her face. “I am nobody’s pet. I make my own choices and my own decisions. I have tasted freedom in the Cage, in a place where I once thought would only be full of torture and hopelessness, and I hope to bring that back to the Host of Heaven. Starting with you, Raphael. Stop thinking about what Father wants. Think for yourself.”

“You are a disgrace to Him,” Raphael snapped, unfazed by Michael’s aggression. “Going back on your word to Him, on your duty to destroy Lucifer as it is written.”

“You think he would be any prouder of you? So intent on destroying his favorite creation?”

“What has gotten into you?” Raphael asked in amazement. She was no longer angry, merely curious and a little stunned by Michael’s sudden display of rebellion, something she thought she’d only ever see in Lucifer and maybe Castiel. “Has Lucifer penetrated your mind in the Cage? Changed your way of thinking?”

“Lucifer has nothing to do with this.”

“Then it is something else.” Raphael paused. “Perhaps a someone.” And then the little grin that broke over her face froze the blood in Michael’s vessel, chilling him to the bone because somehow, Raphael knew. “It’s the boy, isn’t it?”

Michael released Raphael’s shirt and took a step backward, hands held chest level to show he meant no harm, trying to placate his brother. “He has nothing to do with it either.”

Raphael studied his face for a moment. “No. You’re lying. It’s in your eyes. It is the boy. Adam.”

A disgusted shiver raced down Michael’s spine when Raphael spoke his name. “Adam doesn’t know any of this. He has no idea of the kind of influence he’s had on me, so leave him out of it.”

But Raphael was slowly shaking her head, grinning a skeletal smile filled with all sorts of bad intentions. She was backing away from Michael, slinking further down the slope with each step. “You’ve made a grave mistake, Michael. And Adam’s going to pay for it.”

“Raphael, no—!”

Raphael vanished.

“Adam.”

Michael followed.



Note for future reference: after spending hundreds of years being tortured and maimed and broken in the Cage, eventually the Enochian sigils engraved on one’s ribs – the ones that protected one’s location – will disappear.

Exhibit A: Adam Joseph Milligan.

Adam had barely finished eating his breakfast – sitting across the table from a disgruntled-looking Sam and a pensive Bobby while Dean moped around in the basement doing God knows what – when something loud crashed into Bobby’s living room with all the rumble and noise of thunder.

“What the—”

Adam turned in his seat just in time for a woman he’d never seen before in his life to grab him by the shirt collar and toss him across the room like he was nothing but a rag doll. He slammed sideways into the far wall and slid down in front of Bobby’s fireplace. His spine was surely bruised (if not dented) and the back of his head was wet with what was probably blood.

“Adam!” Sam shouted as he jumped up in his seat.

Bobby reached into his back pants pocket and tried to draw a gun, but the woman turned to them and flicked her wrists, sending them both flying back into the sink and the fridge respectively. They both landed on the ground, groaning.

Adam tried pushing himself up with his hands but he was dizzy and disoriented. Blood dripped down onto his temple from the back of his head and made little droplets on the hardwood floor. He stared at them, mouth open slightly in disbelief. He was bleeding. Someone strange had appeared in the middle of Bobby’s house, tossed him into a wall, and now he was bleeding.

Oh.

Oh.

Shit.

Adam lifted his head slowly, mouth curled in a grimace, when he felt the same strong hand lift him by the back of his shirt and slam him face first back into the wall. His mouth hit the brick and he tasted blood, groaning in pain.

“Adam Milligan.” The voice was the woman’s.

Adam could only grunt by way of response, blood trickling down his chin as he tried to kick backwards at his assailant. Where in God’s name were Sam and Bobby? And Dean? Hell, he’d even take Castiel and Michael at this point.

The hand suddenly tossed him away from the wall and slammed him on his back on Bobby’s desk, paperweights and odd-shaped books digging into his spine as he moaned in pain. He did, however, get a chance to get a better, closer look at his attacker. She wore a black business suit and heels, and if Adam hadn’t seen her before she attacked him, he would never have guessed that she’d be strong enough to toss him around the room this way. But her strength and the way she held herself and glared down at him... she had to be an angel. She had to be. But why was she here? What did he do?

“You’ve become more trouble than you’re worth,” the woman said without a hint of emotion.

Adam grit his teeth and tried to speak, but some of his blood slid down the back of his throat and he choked, trying to cough it up.

She shook her head and looked up into the kitchen at Sam and Bobby, who were just getting up from the floor, albeit too slowly for comfort. She smirked a little bit and all of Adam’s attention was drawn to the butcher knife she held in her hand. He recognized it from Bobby’s kitchen drawer before she caught his eye and said, “I’m sorry” before stabbing it down and through Adam’s chest.

“No!” Sam roared, pushing himself off from the counter and running at the woman, but someone else got to her first.

“Adam!”

Michael’s voice sounded far away, so distant that Adam was almost sure he wasn’t even in the same room as them, but without warning the woman was pitched off her feet and thrown into the window above the couch. She smashed through it with a loud crash and landed somewhere in the dirt outside; her impact made the ground quake.

The knife was still in Adam’s chest, sticking straight up at the ceiling, but there was no pain. It simply itched a bit, and Adam reached with a hand slowly to touch the handle, as though he couldn’t quite believe that he’d been stabbed in the chest.

Michael was at his side in an instant, looking down at him with wide eyes and a horrified expression on his face.

“Adam...” he breathed, reaching out with one hand towards the knife before he retracted it, thinking better than to touch it in case it hurt Adam even more.

But that was just it. Adam really couldn’t feel anything; even the itching was relieved. He caught Michael’s eye and whispered, “Doesn’t hurt...”

“What?” Michael asked.

“It...doesn’t hurt.”

Michael’s frown deepened but his expression changed from horror to confusion. Behind him, Sam was helping Bobby to his feet and the two of them ran over to the desk where Adam still lay.

“Adam... Oh my God...” Sam gasped, the look on his face matching Michael’s previous expression.

Michael ignored the blasphemous comment and said, “Can you remove it?” He was talking to Adam.

Adam grasped the knife handle, took a deep breath (again, hacking a little bit of blood up on his chin) and pulled hard. The knife came out seamlessly and he breathed a sigh of relief as he felt absolutely nothing painful or out of the ordinary. Though, the fact that he was alive at all was unordinary to say the least.

Everyone frowned down at him, but before anyone could say anything, the woman was climbing back through the broken window, brushing broken glass off her clothes. She looked absolutely nonplussed as she saw Michael standing there, but when she saw Adam sitting up on his elbows sans knife in his chest, her eyes widened.

“Impossible,” she breathed, shaking her head back and forth in disbelief. “I... I stabbed his heart.”

“Raphael.” Michael’s voice was booming thunder, a command from the heavens. “You will leave. Now.” His eyes softened. “Please, brother. Don’t make me fight you too.”

The woman – Adam thought Raphael was a guy’s name? And brother? – regarded Michael with cool eyes, obviously unfazed by him. “I will return,” she promised. “This is not over, Michael. Not until you fight with Lucifer and bring Paradise to this planet. And as for you,” she addressed Adam, “I will figure you out. I will get rid of you.”

“Raphael,” Michael snapped viciously. “Leave.”

She vanished on the spot, and only when she was gone did everybody breathe a collective sigh of relief, as though she took with her all the weight and troubles off their shoulders. Michael and Sam turned back to Adam, concerned, while Bobby headed to a nearby cabinet for a first-aid kit.

“You’re alive,” Sam said, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he tried to run through the list of reasons why Adam could possibly have survived a knife to the chest. “How’s that possible? Michael?” He looked to the archangel for answers.

Michael pursed his lips as he leaned over Adam and brushed a lock of sweaty, bloody hair away from his forehead, leaving a streak of red on the pale skin there. “Adam is an angel now. He has grace in his body. The only thing that can kill him now is an angel blade.”

Realization dawned on Sam’s face and he looked down at Adam as though he were some kind of particularly rare species of animal. Adam frowned and pushed himself off his elbows carefully, looking down at his chest where there should’ve been a hole and gushing blood, but only his T-shirt was ripped; his skin was intact and unblemished.

“I...I can’t be killed?” he asked, his voice slightly shaky with shock.

“Only with an angel blade,” Michael repeated. “Or if someone smites you. Both of which are things you’ll need to watch out for if Raphael returns for you,” he added under his breath. His eyes grazed over Adam before he frowned again and asked, “Where’s the rest of that blood from?”

Adam reached up and gingerly touched the back of his head, wincing and hissing in pain when his fingers accidentally prodded his wound too hard. Michael rounded the desk and placed one hand on Adam’s back to hold him up while he studied the head wound. Sam stood beside him, jaw tight, and Bobby was on Adam’s other side with the medical kit at the ready.

Michael saw the white box and shook his head. “I’m sorry Bobby, but human healing won’t help Adam. He needs to use his grace to heal himself.”

“Why can’t you heal him?” Sam asked.

“Gabriel’s grace would counteract mine. Nothing would happen. Adam has to heal himself.”

Adam sat up a little further, leaning forward to bring up his knees to his chest and hug his legs. “I don’t know how...” It had taken him so long to learn how to fold and unfold his wings, how to fly...and those had just been wing actions. Dealing with actually using the grace in his body was a whole different challenge.

Michael’s hand on his back began to rub small, soothing circles. “Just concentrate. You’ve done so well thus far.”

Adam swallowed – another mixture of saliva and blood – as he closed his eyes and felt around inside his body for that little pocket of warmth and comfort that he’d grown used to over the past week or so. Gabriel’s grace was like a fire that warmed him from the inside and without it, he knew he’d be a disgusting, miserable wreck overtaken by memories from the Cage. In fact, a lot of things in Adam’s life would be different right now if it weren’t for Gabriel’s grace – some of them good, and some of them bad. He couldn’t really say for sure how he felt about it, but right now it was turning out to be a blessing if he could simply heal himself and not need human medical attention.

He found the grace and tried to spread it through his body up towards his head, concentrating so he didn’t drop little pieces of it along the way; he figured he would need as much of it as possible.

Everyone watched as the wound on the back of his head slowly started to close up. The blood was still there and his hair was tainted red, but the skin was forming back together and stitching itself back up. Sam had even seen a bit of white – Adam’s skull, probably – that was soon covered up with new ligaments and skin. Awestruck, he couldn’t help but grin as his little brother healed himself and breathed a sigh of relief.

Michael, too, was smiling, albeit not as widely as Sam. “See? You’re capable of anything as long as you believe you are.”

Adam opened his eyes and let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in. He let the grace go and it resettled back where it had been before, somewhere in the depths of his soul and his heart and the rest of his essence, the little things that made Adam who he was. He unwittingly leaned back into Michael’s hand and sighed. “I think it was easy only because it was necessary,” he admitted.

Michael grinned. “Adam, just take the compliment and run with it.”

“Bite me.”

Even Bobby chuckled at that. Injured or no, if there was one thing that wouldn’t change, it was Adam’s attitude, and to be honest the fact that he was making jokes again was a comforting norm.

“You’re gonna be fine, kid,” Bobby said, grasping Adam by the shoulder and giving him a comforting little shake.

Adam looked back at the older man and smiled gratefully before turning to Michael. “So...who was that woman? She an angel?”

“Raphael,” Sam answered for Michael. “And she’s a he, technically.”

“Come again?”

Sam, Bobby, and Michael all looked each other silently but their eyes spoke volumes: it was time for an explanation. Adam deserved to know everything – the full version. After all, he was as part of this just as much as any of them, especially now if Raphael was after him for whatever reason (though Michael was the only one who knew the truth).

Michael walked around to the front of the desk so he was facing Adam and without warning, he carefully wrapped his arms around the younger boy’s waist and lifted him up and off the wooden top, hugging him to his chest for a nanosecond before letting him stand on his own two feet and backing away. Sam noted the close, almost tender moment with a raised eyebrow but said nothing, trying to keep his lips from turning downwards into a frown.

Bobby placed the medical kit on his desk and leaned against the wood with both hands in front of him. He stared down at the grain for a moment before asking, “so who wants to start story time?”