Warnings: Torture, violence, gore, non-graphic rape, Hell, angst, blasphemy probably. The Cage is not a family friendly place.

"Midway on our life's journey, I found myself

In dark woods, the right road lost."

Sam used to be there, a very long time ago. Adam looked back on that time almost fondly, because it hadn't been so bad then. Sam did what he could to protect him, stood between him and the worst of all evil, and sheltered him from the burning light. It was strange, this devotion, this loyalty, this love from a man that he barely knew. Sam took all that he could, ripped himself inside out with the force of his screaming. In tiny breaths of respite, Adam would ask him, why, why, why do this for me?

Sam just looked at him, small spark-bright bits of something that wasn't agony or fear or sorrow shining for a moment in his eyes. You're my brother, he'd say. My brother.

In all his life, Adam had never had a brother. The word meant next to nothing to him. But Sam said brother like some might say God, and in this Hell of all Hells Adam had no doubt which meant more to him.

It wasn't such a hard truth to believe, either, because Adam remembered John Winchester, he remembered Dad. He remembered his gruff manner (callused hand on his shoulder, low voice pitched deep in pride) and his strange protectiveness (constant paranoid glances, weird symbols carved into his bedpost) and his quiet intense ferocity (I won't let anything happen to you, I won't screw everything up, not with you).

He saw that in Sam, that stubbornness, that bravery, that search for redemption. He saw his Dad in Sam. He saw Sam's Dad in Sam. It wasn't hard to believe anymore, that this really was his brother.

But then one day Sam was just suddenly gone, and Adam truly knew Hell for the first time.

"Hope not ever to see Heaven. I have come to lead you to the other shore; into eternal darkness; into fire and into ice."

They're not your family.

It wasn't the first time he'd heard that. It wouldn't be the last.

Brothers? What kind of brothers are they? They don't care about you. Only about each other.

He already knew that. He'd always known that.

They're going to leave you down here. Now that Sam's out, they're perfectly happy to just let you rot down here. With me.

That was a slightly more bitter pill to swallow. Because he couldn't believe that, if he believed that then he would lose what little hope he still had.

How long have you been down here? Have you been counting? I have. It's been two hundred and seventy years, five months, two weeks, six days, nineteen hours, thirty-seven minutes, and twelve seconds. Now thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. They won't come for you. You must know that by now.

Yes, they will. Yes, they will.

No, Lucifer said with utter conviction, and pulled his guts out through his mouth. They won't.

"They now commingle with the coward angels,
the company of those who were not rebels
nor faithful to their God, but stood apart."

Michael tried to help, at first.

Michael was not like his brother. He was not evil. He did not delight in cruelty. He was a servant of God, and he believed in a God of mercy.

But though he did attempt to shield Adam in the beginning, it was not efficacious. This was not his realm. Everything here was Lucifer's, and his strength far surpassed Michael's in this place. Often any attempt Michael made to protect Adam resulted in the two archangels brawling.

Adam watched these battles, whenever they happened, in a daze, witnessing power and glory that he'd never dreamed of. They were like stars, fiery and brilliant beyond comprehension, hot and loud and dazzling, like supernovas exploding into being before his eyes. It was terrifying.

It was beautiful.

Eventually, the fight would end and Lucifer would return to his torment of Adam, while Michael continued to pace the confines of the Cage, praying to his Father for deliverance.

Look at him pray, Lucifer sneered in contempt. What use is praying anymore? There's no one to hear him. And prayer is so hypocritical anyway.

Lucifer continued to cut and burn and rip him apart, but almost casually so, talking the whole time.

All of the so-called "faithful", all of them are hypocrites. They pray for salvation, they pray for sinners. But out of all those disgusting humans, in all of history, how many ever prayed for me? Me, the greatest sinner of them all?

Adam had never been an avid churchgoer. But he was pretty sure it was frowned upon to pray for the Devil. Whose touch was currently freezing his limbs into solid ice, who was snapping off his fingers and toes, one by one by one.

You'll come round to my way of thinking eventually, Adam. They all do in the end, down here.

As Lucifer set him on fire and melted the frozen pieces of his body, Adam could understand why.

Michael gave up on him, after a while.

"There is no greater sorrow then to recall our times of joy in wretchedness."

One of Lucifer's favorite activities was to take Adam's memories and twist them, corrupt them, turn them into nightmares.

When Adam was five, his mom brought home a puppy, this soft little golden retriever that he named Joey and cuddled up with and petted and played with and let sleep on his bed.

Lucifer turned Joey into a hellhound and made him rip out Adam's throat.

When Adam was nine, he and his mom took a vacation to Florida, where they sat lazily on the warm sand beaches and floated in blue waters.

Lucifer grabbed his ankle and pulled him deep under the surface, long enough for all air to leave his lungs, deep enough for his body to compress like a crushed soda can.

When Adam was twelve, he met his father for the first time.

Lucifer turned John's eyes yellow and pinned Adam's bleeding mother to the burning ceiling.

When Adam was sixteen, he got his very own car. It was beige and creaky and smelled like cats, but it was all his own.

Lucifer rolled up the windows, locked the doors, and filled the car with blood.

When Adam was eighteen, he made love to Emily Gardner in the upstairs bedroom at the senior end-of-the-year house party.

Lucifer took Emily's face and forced himself upon Adam.

When Adam was nineteen, ghouls tore his mother apart and ate him alive simply because he dared to have Winchester blood in his veins.

Lucifer had no need to tamper with that one.

"When we had made our way so far forward

That my master sensed it time to show me

The creature who was once so beautiful."

It had been three hundred fifty years; far, far longer than Adam had spent in life, on Earth. He could scarcely remember that time. He could hardly recall what he used to believe in.

He may have once believed in God. Now the notion seemed laughable.

The only God he knew now was the God of the Fallen, the only prayers he said now were pleas for mercy, the only absolution he knew was in Lucifer's dark, smooth voice.

He understood now, all that he had been told from the start. He knew.

Hope is laughable.

Faith is false.

Joy is fleeting.

Peace is non-existent.

Kindness is useless.

Love is weak.

Despair is concrete.

Doubt is sensible.

Sorrow is everlasting.

Pain is real.

Anger is fueling.

Hatred is strong.

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter."

In the three hundred seventy-fifth year, Lucifer let him up from the rack. He offered his blade, and Adam took it. He conjured up a woman in Adam's place. He told him to cut her.

Adam did.

"Not apple trees were there, but thorns with poison."

Lucifer created all different sorts of people for Adam to practice on. Men, women, and children all fell under his knife. Lucifer stood beside him, guiding him, teaching him. Cut here. Stab there. Remove this. Replace that. Burn these. Slice those.

He learned how to draw out every scream, how to relish every cry, how to squeeze out every last drop of blood. He learned how to keep up the speaking rapport that would torture the mind alongside the body. He learned how to destroy a soul so completely that the person would not even remember their name.

Michael watched him with sorrow. This is not what you are.

Adam cut a little deeper. I am not what I used to be.

Lucifer watched him with pride. You are not the first Winchester to excel at this art.

Adam sliced with a vengeance. I am not a Winchester. Never was.

"Through me you pass into the city of woe:
Through me you pass into eternal pain:
Through me among the people lost for aye."

As a test, Lucifer put before him the ones he used to love. Adam didn't hesitate.

Someday, Adam, we will return to the world.

His boyhood friend, Billy Stevens, was choking on his own blood.

We will freeze their oceans and burn their temples to the ground.

Emily Gardner looked so pretty, even with her brain visible through the cracks in her skull.

We will crush the humans like cockroaches; we will pluck off the angels' wings like flies.

John Winchester's stomach glistened in the open air.

They will beg us for mercy. We will not give it to them.

He burned out Dean's bright green eyes.

We will have our revenge on those who wronged us.

He broke off each of Sam's ribs one at a time and threw them aside.

We will create our own absolution.

He tore his mother's heart out of her chest and forced it down her throat.

Good, Lucifer murmured. Good.

"Thence we came forth to rebehold the stars."

Then, on the sixty-sixth day of the six hundred-sixth year, he was released.

Suddenly, there was soft grass beneath his fingers, there was moonlight on his skin, there was a cool breeze ruffling his hair. Adam blinked, and blinked again, and dug his fingers into the soft earth. He heard voices, eager and quick, low but with an underlying high pitched ringing that jangled in his ears.

"Did it work? Did it work?"

"Hush, we need a good look at him."

"… Michael?"

Adam turned to look at the two men, who gasped when they saw his face. One of them dropped a long silver blade from his sleeve and advanced on him, but the sight of the sword kicked Adam into action. He was on his feet in an instant, moving faster than should have been humanly possible, disarming the man and slashing a blazing white line across his throat. A blink later he plunged the blade into the other man's gut, right where he knew it would hurt the most.

"Not Michael," he said, staring into eyes suddenly filling with pure light. "Not ever again."

For a split second he saw himself reflected in the bright orbs, saw his face flicker and reveal what his soul looked like underneath, all protruding bone and exposed nerves and scraping ragged edges, eyes sunken and dark.

Then the angel joined his brother, dead at Adam's feet.

Adam wiped the blood off on the angel's shirt and set off across the field, heading wherever his feet would take him. He knew this world; he'd lived in it once. This was a world where he used to smile and laugh and love. This was the world where he died.

With any luck, this was a world the Winchesters were still walking, a world where he could exact his revenge.

He fantasized about it, each step taking him closer to satisfaction. He imagined the look on Dean's face when he disemboweled him (belly-button to throat, Adam, slowly, slowly) and how much Sam would scream as he sawed off his limbs (cauterize the wounds, wouldn't want him to bleed out too fast, would we, Adam?).

He would find his vindication.

They don't care about you.

They're not your family.

They will beg us for mercy. We will not give it to them.

The stars burned distant and cold above him.

The idea for this came when my friend and I were discussing potential villains. I figure that even if they did bring Adam back, at this point there wouldn't be much of Adam left. And what makes a better villain than a broken, twisted, fallen man?

All quotes are from Dante Alighieri's Inferno.