time will be the judge of all here

[halfwinchester]

Who: Adam Milligan (halfwinchester) and Michael (quis_ut_deus).
Where: Starting outside, followed by a none-too-frightening awakening in Michael's room.
When: Backdated to around the 23rd-ish.
Rating: R for mass amounts of vessel-flavored trauma, maybe?
Summary: Stressing out about a bunch of mass murders and passing out cold? Just a day in the life of someone still suffering the lingering effects of the Cage. Michael comes along to investigate what's going on inside his vessel's mind. Dreamwalking ensues.
The Story:



<sub>[In the days following the killings, things seem to go very quiet. It's not just in Adam's head; the danger passes and the mansion itself takes a big gulp of fresh air. One... three... five days later, nothing's happened. Nothing will happen if the people like Sam and Dean know who the monster is and can deal with him.

For Adam, finding his equilibrium again is a matter of keeping his head down and enjoying the security his room offers him. People are coming back to life and the clinic no longer needs a Hell-traumatized automaton helping out. He can take a gulp of fresh air himself.

Easier said than done, however.

The ghoul attack had lasted hours at the most, but the terror and the tension from that time is exactly the same as the kind Tom had inflicted--but not just for hours, for days. Adam had survived this round, but not without bad memories clawing to the surface, visceral memories that make him remember the smell of his old house and the hair-raising sensation of being hunted. The remembering gets worse before it gets better. He slides into that pit in his mind that won't let him go, and the usual tricks that help to distract him don't work.

The worst comes when he makes the mistake of thinking he can force himself to forget. Adam doesn't know what he's thinking, just that he gets the idea to go for a walk, as if that will chase the cobwebs from his head. He takes himself back to that spot in the forest where he dimly recalls crawling out of a grave and into Wonderland. The earth isn't disturbed anymore, of course, but he half-expects it to be.

His head aches. He ignores it. A stunted tree turns into a person, the snow underneath it to blood. He ignores that, too.

The rest is just blackness, a darkness that sucks him down until he can't remember anything at all.]</sub>

Comments

[quis_ut_deus]

[Sometimes, humans kill each other. With or without a good reason for it, even. Michael's been watching over his Father's favourite little naked apes long enough to internalize and accept that fact. Humanity does things that he doesn't understand and doesn't seek to understand, because he has little reason to care about human affairs beyond those that affect the Apocalypse. (And most angels have little hope of understanding the majority of human motivations, for that matter.)

When it comes to the murders within Wonderland, his attitude is equally apathetic. Unless the murderer happens to come into possession of an angel blade they're just another human inflicting irrational actions on other humans. Michael's interest and efforts remain focused squarely upon he and his.

Much to their chagrin, his does tend to include his secondary vessels.

With Enochian tracking symbols carved into his very bones, Adam's easy enough to find, though Michael doesn't often bother. The youngest Winchester only rarely leaves his room and the archangel finds little of interest in staring at a warded door hour after hour.

Today, though, he's surprised to find Adam outdoors when he probes for the human's location - and more surprised to find the boy crumpled into an unconscious heap in the snow when he arrives in the same spot.

Adam is damaged, certainly - by Hell, by experience, and by his own family - but the last time Michael had seen him he had at least been functional, if not quite right in the soul. He looms over Adam's unconscious form for a short time, considering the likelihood that whatever patch job Gabriel had done on his second-choice vessel had failed. There's an easy way to tell. He suspects, however, that anyone who stumbles upon the scene of an older man elbow-deep in another's chest might jump to the wrong conclusions when there's a murderer about.

With little regard for manners or social norms, Michael wings it back to his room with Adam in tow. Attempting to settle him in what he assumes is a comfortable position, he drapes the human's body across the bed. He's never had use for it himself.]

[halfwinchester]

<sub>[Michael's right, but he's also wrong, too. Some days surprise Adam by being so easy, like he's not just pretending to be a person but actually is a person, and yet there are others where Adam can't imagine how anyone could think his soul is on the mend--there's something wrong with him, but what constitutes functional? He doesn't feel functional. What's happening him to now is as much a mystery to him as it is to everyone else, even if Castiel seems convinced his soul isn't beyond all hope.

The last week or so, Adam's been even less convinced of that hope than usual, reminded of how weak and mortal he is, how badly he just doesn't want to return to Hell no matter what happens. Maybe that's why sliding back into that pit in his mind is so easy, and trying to climb back out again is hard.

Like all memories of the Cage, it start out with fire, but it's not really a memory at all, it's more like a dream. What could be a few minutes feels like an hour, time made meaningless. He dreams of Wonderland's mansion how he remembers the Cage--the walls on fire, flames ready to scorch whatever they touch. No smoke, just the heat. No archangels, either, just the one brother.

Not Sam, but Dean. Except it's not Dean, it's Tom, and in a dream where every horror bleeds together into one indecipherable mass, Tom doesn't really feel like Tom, more like a monster with teeth hiding behind human skin.

Tom is new, but the rest isn't. Adam doesn't sleep for long for a reason.]</sub>

[quis_ut_deus]

[The topic of Adam's soul is one of the few instances in which Michael would be likely to agree with Castiel. Human souls are remarkably resilient things, in some respects, and Adam's stronger than he realizes. By nature and by necessity, any archangel's vessel is.

Though at the moment, lying silent and vulnerable before him - and perhaps twitching ever so slightly - Michael would have to admit that Adam looks anything but strong.

His first instinct is to rouse the Winchester from his unnatural slumber, but he reasons that if the boy is passing out in public then he probably needs the sleep. Or, rather, he needs good quality sleep. Mentally, Adam's been a little off since he arrived, and if he's paranoid and aggressive during his waking hours then Michael doubts the time he spends with his subconscious is much better. Usually, it's worse.

All of those thoughts are just speculation, however. There's an easy way to determine how well Adam is getting along inside his own dreamspace, and it doesn't even require Michael to touch him. He's sure that part would please Adam, even if the concept of invading another of his private areas wouldn't.

But, as far as the archangel's concerned, he already has a standing "yes" from his second-rate vessel.

Michael takes a seat opposite the bed, settling down outside of flailing range on the off chance Adam awakens during the process, and pulls in his wings. It doesn't take much effort to pull up his mental anchor and slip his way inside another's dreams when his target is right in front of him.

For lack of a better or more recognizable form, Michael assumes the shape of John Winchester again. He takes a look around, noting the heat and the fire, but not immediately placing where they are - he's never been inside the Cage himself. The moment he does, he frowns.]

Is it always like this?

[halfwinchester]

<sub>[Michael is the last person the owner of these inner demons wants peeking between the cracks of his soul, but Michael is by rights the first to see all that's going wrong inside Adam. Everybody can guess that it's been difficult for him, everybody can guess that the tired smudges under his eyes and his poor daytime coping behavior mean he's struggling, but no one really knows.

Had they bothered to ask, Adam wouldn't even have the words to answer. There are no words in the language he knows to describe what he feels.

Sometimes Hell creeps up on him with harmless hallucinations--a conversation with a ghost, maybe, or a vision that exists only in his head--or with memories of pain, or with dreams like this. Sometimes he sees a blonde woman covered in blood (mom) or an outline of a man with a booming voice (dad), or those strangers who double as brothers who say things but do the opposite. Sometimes there are ghouls, sometimes angel light and flapping wings that translate to burning, blinding agony.

Always, though, always there's the feeling of being hounded. Hunted. The walls of his mind pulse with it. Monsters, archangels, a killer with an axe--it doesn't matter. Like most dreams, the feeling doesn't have to be rational, it just is.

He's in a hallway somewhere, and the warning of run or die is there, so he starts to, because it's been a long, long few days of wondering if a killer (Tom with Dean's face) is around every corner and the pressure needs to be released somewhere. Except when he spins around he nearly stumbles straight into another monster.

John. Dad. Michael? He looks more real than he should, more than what Adam's used to seeing.

And he's talking. That's a little different than usual.]</sub>

What?

_{[That's not how the script goes.]}

[quis_ut_deus]

[Unfortunately for Adam, at the moment Michael is the only one with the gall to interrupt his troubled slumber. That makes him first in line to witness the show. Next time, he ought to ask one of the nice supernatural critters to fix his head before it gets this bad.

Angels never sleep and Michael is never haunted by the less literal demons of his past, not like this. It's maybe part of the reason why he's as rigid as he is. He's never forced to relive his past actions, never taunted with 'what-if's or traumatized by repetitive violence. There's nothing to make him remember and learn from past experiences, the way Adam relearns his fear of ghouls and his hatred of angels every night.

Not that Michael is seeing any of the latter right now. He makes a mental note to be extra-thorough and scrub any negative dreams of angels if he happens to encounter them.

With a little wave of his hand, the scene around them freezes as fast as if he'd hit pause on a movie. No sounds, no monsters lurking around the corners. As fond as he normally is of scripts, it's a little hard to converse with Adam when he's distracted.]

Your dreams. Are they frequently like this one?

[Michael's speech is measured and deliberate, as though he's dealing with a particularly slow child. Which he is, in his mind - not the slow part, of course. Adam is uncommonly intelligent for a Winchester. Compared to the archangel, though, he's absolutely a child.]

[halfwinchester]

<sub>[Since when are there nice supernatural critters, Michael? It's taken Wonderland for him to find any in all the years he's spent in the deep shadows cast by Michael and Lucifer. They are, as any monsters are in Adam's mind, wrong. Finding nightmares built on his memories of angels wouldn't be hard, but truth be told, Michael is already the commander in chief of those, sharing the role with Satan himself. He's hard put to tell the difference between the real Michael and a figment of Michael--it's the face that really gives him away, honestly. Adam doesn't know this version of John well enough to have the memory of his face haunt him.

When Michael makes the inside of his brain quiet down, the hush that results drives the truth home.]</sub>

You're really here.

<sub>[His presence in this private place isn't the same as taking him over body and soul, but when Adam straightens from his stiff hunch, the fact is still like a bucket of cold water down his back. Given what they're talking about, where they are, it's almost a refreshing feeling. Michael is more dangerous than his head--that could be a worse thing. Or a good thing.

The question is still hanging in the air, waiting to be answered. Because he is intelligent, he knows better than to try and play the silent treatment with Michael over a battle that's not worth fighting.]</sub>

You have no idea, do you? _{[He shakes his head, a gesture of intense weariness. He's been here so many times that Michael being here is what's different.]} This is it. This is the only one. I must be sleeping.

_{[Or unconscious. Same thing, really, just as his dreams these days are variations on the same theme.]}

[quis_ut_deus]

[There are plenty of nice supernatural creatures - a half-dozen, at least. Michael's siblings tend to be very kind and respectful to him, for starters, though that may be a fear-induced survival mechanism rather than genuine kindness. As long as they do as they're told, Michael's not particularly concerned with the difference between the two.

For once, Adam's acting smart. If he hadn't answered Michael's question, the archangel might have given up on trying to converse with him and gone digging for answers instead. That's not the polite way to do things, of course, but Michael's never let something as small as etiquette hold him back from getting a job done.]

We don't dream.

[Not him and not any other angel, and that should be all the explanation Adam ever needs. Of course he has no idea what it's like to be unable to escape his own mind. That's a uniquely human experience. (You can thank his dad for that one, right after you thank him for the whole concept of human vessels. Great ideas all around, right?)]

I wouldn't quite call it sleeping. You passed out, and now you're -

[Michael makes a gesture with his hands that suggests something messy, but also manages to be dismissive and a little insulting. His standard reply, really.]

Let's just say Gabriel missed a few spots.

[halfwinchester]

_{[Maybe if Michael remembered being on the wrong side of the Cage's proverbial bars, he'd have an easier time understanding that angels knowing what dreams are like wasn't what Adam had meant. Dreaming isn't the problem, it's everything Hell has done that's the problem. He'd never been trapped in a dream until he'd started living a nightmare.]}

Passed out...

<sub>[The words aren't for Michael, they're for himself as he looks around with new eyes at the corridor licked in red and orange-tinted flame, frozen in place by Michael's power. Where...? What had he been doing again? This isn't the first time his memory's gotten murky, and he's less surprised than he should be to realize he's gone and done it again, had an episode.

Adam's unspeakably tired all of a sudden, and now that he's standing he feels it acutely. Without a thought to the archangel, he sits down right there on the floor, partly out of relief and partly from a burnout that goes deeper than simply needing to catch a nap.]</sub>

Where'd you come from?

_{[It takes him a moment or two to even think to ask why the chief dickbag himself has come crawling into Adam's rat's nest of a head.]}