A/N: This fic, along with some others, is posted on my LiveJournal: ( ladyknightanka . livejournal ). If you like this or my other works, be sure to watch me on LJ, because some fics I write won't be posted here, but all will be archived there.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or make any profit from this. That's all Kripke and the other producers. Still, don't replicate my ridiculous writing without permission.
Warnings: T for slash, offensive language, utter crack, very slight violence, and other such things. Spoilers for up to S-5.22: Swan Song.
Other Notes: ~2700 words. I just want to mention that this isn't Dean-bashing, since I love Dean. But Dean and Adam butt heads, and this is through his eyes, so...
Summary: Castiel is Dean's angel, Gabriel is Sam's, and Michael is Adam's.


Winchesters' Angels

More Badass Than Charlie's


Even though Adam really didn't know his brothers all that well yet – not like they knew each other, anyway – he could easily see that something was going on between Dean and Castiel, the strange Angel of the Lord who Dean insisted was the only non-dick among the Heavenly Host.

For one thing, Dean was a jerk. More than that, Adam thought Sam went easy on Dean with that one, because Dean was a full-on, hardcore asshole. To everyone but Sam and Cas, that is. Including Adam.

Every time Sam really wanted something, all he'd have to do was pout his lip just a little and turn his sad eyes on Dean. Even though the oldest Winchester brother called these kind of faces Sam's bitch-faces, and maybe even Sam's Samantha-faces, he gave in like a whipped boyfriend threatened with lack of naked time.

That creeper Zachariah had called them erotically co-dependent, so it made sense.

And then there was Cas. Castiel, even Castiel-turned-human, was completely socially retarded. According to Dean, he had as many head-tilts as Sam did bitch-faces, which was a laudable amount. Castiel was confused by humanity in general. But Adam was pretty sure even the normally oblivious Angel knew what he was doing to Dean.

For example, Castiel did not like Metallica, nor any of the hardcore – and kind of awesome, though Adam was loathe to have anything in common with Dean – bands that Dean had so many tapes of. For anyone else, this would get Dean's infamous, "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake-hole," comment.

And, for the most part, Castiel did too, but Adam thought it was all just a big cover up to protect Dean's hard-ass rep. Why? Because after that snapped rejection, Cas would tilt his head to the side, a confused, perhaps just slightly hurt frown on his childish, haggard face, his blue eyes wide, and Dean Winchester, self-proclaimed tough guy, would pussy the fuck out.

Which was why they were currently listening to some weird ass gospel music. Dean kept grumbling under his breath, but when he looked through the rear-view mirror and noticed the wan smile that graced Cas' lips, he seemed pleased.

It was kind of amusing, but it still pissed Adam off. He was attractive, at least according to all the high-school and college girls that had flirted with him non-stop, almost to the point of disgust. He was, God forbid, possibly even pretty, as a certain Archangel boldly insisted. But, whenever he tried to pull off the Sammy or Cas puppy-dog eyes, all it earned him was a freaked-out expression from Dean, a bemused blink from Cas, and a grin from Sam.

Sometimes even a slap upside the head, if Dean was not in a generous mood – and let's face it, when was he? What the fuck, right? But, as Sam had once explained to him, Castiel had given up everything – Heaven, his brethren, his grace, his Father – for Dean, so it figured his brother would want to treat his Angel – his boyfriend, no matter how much he vehemently denied it – right, right?

And Adam thought they were kind of cute. Not that he'd ever tell Dean – a smack would then be the least of his worries.


Sam and Gabriel were only slightly less obvious.

They didn't share all the eye-fucking looks that Dean and Cas did. Heck, they barely saw one another, whereas Castiel spent all the time he could spare away from Heaven with Dean – usually in the backseat of the Impala alongside Adam, since Sam still had shotgun privileges, or barricaded in their hotel-rooms with Dean.

But Adam still knew. Sometimes he thought it was because of all the keen medical training his eyes had become accustomed to, but then he snorted, because a year of pre-med school would hardly be enough to declare such a stuck-up thing, even if you were the son of an ER nurse. He also debated over whether his hunter instincts had helped him on that front, but no, because Dean was still pitifully ignorant and he was the hunter extraordinaire. Either that or in denial. God knew he was still stupidly affirming how not gay he himself was, which was just plain sad, considering how he'd cut himself a neat little slice of manly angel food-cake.

Although, in Adam's humble opinion, Dean was kind of the idiot of the family – just don't tell Dean.

And that was so not the point. The point was, he was still a Winchester, so it wasn't the medical or hunting training – no, it was the brother training – that helped him realize that both of his brothers were playing hanky-panky with their respective Angels.

Except, where Castiel managed to win Dean over with his undying devotion, Gabriel was more like a kindergartner with a puppy crush.

Sam had, with no little annoyance and bitch-face number ten, usually reserved for familial irritations and the like, explained all of their – mostly Sam's – interaction with the Archangel turned Trickster called Gabriel.

When they'd both – meaning Sam and Dean, because at that time the only face-offs Adam had with demons were the bosses in his favorite video-games – been terrified over Dean's contract with a demon, and his imminent time in the biggest big house of all, Gabriel had tried in his own way to help Sam deal.

The best way to woo someone wasn't usually killing his favorite big brother over and over and over and – oh, what's that? Oh, right – over again, but old Gabriel had the best intentions at heart. Or so it sounded like when Sam, choked up a little from such painful reminiscing, broke the situation, and Gabriel's resulting words, down for Adam.

And then there was the whole TV-land fiasco. No matter how put out Sam had looked, Adam had to laugh his ass off upon hearing that one, and he also had to give Gabe some props. After debating the play-by-play – the surgery, the police work, the sitcom, the nut-cracking, the herpes – Adam came to one conclusion...

This was the largest, weirdest case of tugging pigtails Adam – and likely the world, maybe even the universe – had ever seen. But Sam had yet to realize it, unfortunately.

It made Adam wonder how the Hell his big brother had managed to clean his own nose up until now, much less get into a school like Stanford, since he still insisted, "He only wants to mess with us," despite the obvious clues.

The biggest of which being that it was Gabriel, in all his shiny, determined glory, who had finally managed to raise Sam and Adam out of Hell. If he really just wanted to dick around with them, there were other, easier ways. It seemed to Adam like he really did care, and the youngest Winchester, for one, appreciated him for his impromptu rescue, if nothing else.

Thus, he hinted and helped in his own, annoying baby brother kind of way. It usually ended up as an epic failure.

"You know, Gabriel goes out of his way to torment Dean physically, but he lets you off the hook lightly. Why do you think that is?"

"Uh, Adam, I'm still emotionally scarred by all the times he brutally murdered the only family I had left – since we didn't know about you at the time. Remember?"

"...Right."

So, when Gabriel swooped to the rescue to save Sam's ass yet again, smiting their opponent with the vengeful, angelic wrath that he usually waylaid for his constant cheer, and the middle Winchester finally mused, "Maybe...maybe he does care, after all?" Adam was probably more visibly excited than even the Archangel – although, there was probably a party in Gabe's pants that begged to differ.

Dean just seemed confused. That wasn't too shocking, anyways. After all, he had the constantly befuddled Castiel to rub off on him – and, ugh, now Adam had that mental image to scar him forever.

But it was worth it, particularly when Gabriel actually clapped him on the arm and soulfully proclaimed, "Thanks, sport. Couldn't have done it without you."

And then he and Sam joined in on the Adam mind-rape.

Again, ugh.


But Michael was in a whole different league.

Although all Angels were God's children, and thus brothers, the three – four if you counted the Devil himself – that Adam knew were very different for siblings. Not that it was all that freaky. He personally disagreed with Bobby's astute observation about how he was merely a mesh of his two idgit older brothers. But Cas, Gabe, and Michael were worlds different.

For one thing, no matter how awesome Dean thought he was, Castiel was among the lowest garrison of Angels – Gabriel had once teasingly called him a Cherub. After the whole Apocalypse debacle had ended, God had pumped Cas' grace full with what likened to Angel steroids, but he still couldn't quite be classified as an Archangel – maybe more like a Seraph or something. The former Trickster was an Archangel too, but while he was powerful like whoa, he wasn't Heaven's sword of destruction, the Angel second only to God.

That was Michael. Ol' Mikey who had worn Adam to the prom, who'd torn his vessel till it was ready to burst at the seams, who had even got him blown up – courtesy of Cas.

So Adam should have been royally pissed the fuck off when God decided Michael needed to learn to love humanity again, and wisely declared who better for the task of mentor than his former human vessel. Should being the operative word.

He wanted to be mad – he really, really did – but along with all the pain and suffering and trauma he'd endured, Adam remembered how Michael had gone out of his way to shelter Adam's frayed soul from Hellfire. He remembered the soft, mournful apologies that filled his head when his body was being ravaged in the pit. Most of all, he remembered exactly why Michael had been able to force that 'Yes' out of him.

Michael really was everything that Adam believed an Angel should embody. He was power and mercy, beauty and darkness, creation and destruction, all in one perfect form. And Adam had seen the real Michael – his visage, as Cas would say – that day his brothers had tried and failed to save him from the corrupt Angels' fury. He'd fallen hard then, ironically enough, for God's greatest messenger, but he'd sworn not to act on that emotion.

It was a huge sin, wasn't it, to lust after an Angel – especially Michael, for Heaven's sake? But God was making it really fucking hard for him, as were his brothers, since they had nookie time every damned night, while Adam was depressingly abstinent.

Michael himself added to the trial. Since he couldn't go around riding Adam, God had made his own vessel for him – a totally not sexy vessel, Adam should add. His hair was gold like the sun had thrown up on it, his eyes were a brighter baby-blue than Cas', and he was freakishly adorable and innocent for someone who'd been alive for longer than the Earth.

One problem was, Michael and common mechanical appliances did not get along – sometimes Adam wondered whether he hated them more than the denizens of Hell.

The device he despised the most was probably the Impala. Now, Adam himself loved that car to death, certainly enough to rival Dean's obvious affections, so he should have been blasphemed by Michael's abhorrence of it, but the Archangel was like his Achilles heel – he was too fucking cute, and Adam hated to admit it.

Every time their dysfunctional group – Michael threw what amounted to a hissy-fit when he found out they called themselves Team Free Will, because, quote, "Angels do not employ free will – it is a sin!" – moseyed into the Impala, Michael had a panic attack. He was convinced that the innocent car was trying to devour them and valiantly declared he'd protect them – mostly Adam – from making such a folly.

"Mike, stop it!"

"B-but...Gabriel said it was a death-trap. Death."

"If I die, you can just revive me. Again."

"Leave it to you, Mike, to be such a friggin' kill-joy."

As he'd said, it should have been aggravating – it certainly was for Dean, as he reminded Adam repetitively till his little brother was ready to bash his head through the Impala's windows for the sake of silence – but Michael clung to him like no one had since that slutty girl he'd taken to prom, and God was it nice.

It would have stayed nice, too, if Michael had left it at that. But, no, the Archangel was used to being at the top of the food pyramid, was used to making demons shit themselves with a single glance, and was definitely used to not sharing, so he was freaking possessive.

"Hey, Adam, wanna research with me?" an enthusiastic Sam would sometimes ask.

"No, he does not, Satan!" Michael's grabby hands were hard to escape from, but Adam let it go that one time, since Sam was Lucifer's true vessel and Mike and Lucy had the biggest case of sibling rivalry ever.

Then Dean, who was finally starting to accept that Adam was here to stay, and that he really was a Winchester, asked Adam to spar without the intention to knock him flat on his ass for once. Of course, Adam still ended up there, having barely a year's hunting experience to back him up, but Dean offered him a helping hand, a soft, proud smile on his usually stoically mocking face.

They were finally starting to make some progress, Adam thought happily, but Michael had to pop in out of nowhere and ruin their brotherly bonding in the worst possible way.

Grabbing Dean by his proffered arm, Michael proceeded to swing the oldest Winchester around by the limb, ignoring his resulting screams to gently ask Adam, "Are you injured?" Adam shook his head, dumbfounded, but the rough treatment of his brother didn't stop until Cas shot out to confront his oldest sibling.

"You shouldn't treat Dean in such a way!"

"He should not treat my human in such a way!"

"Why couldn't I be normal?"

And, naturally, this wonderful day just had to be topped off by Gabriel's guffawing laughter. It was humiliating as Hell.

Michael did, however, learn the error of his ways, since he kept shooting everyone, especially Adam, these really pathetic, apologetic looks that a warrior of the Lord shouldn't have ever been capable of. He was even more of a social outcast than Cas, though.

The biggest indication: when Adam asked why he acted the way he did, the Archangel smoothly replied, "Well, I have come to the conclusion that every remaining Angel on earth must have a Winchester. Castiel has shown me the light, with his feelings for Dean. Gabriel, similarly, has Samuel. Lucifer lost his host, so he still suffers the misfortune of being trapped in Hell. I have but you, Adam. It is only right that I should protect you."

And he explained all of this as if simply talking about the weather – as if Adam should already know, because it was that obvious – and the baby Winchester felt his face heat up. It got even worse when Michael added, "You know what else Angels must do with Winchesters?" and leaned in for a kiss.

His logic was flawed, and more than just a little ridiculous, but Adam still melted against his heated, holy lips. After all, the fury of Heaven was right about one thing: there were certain rules both Winchesters and Angels should universally abide by.

Angels should protect their Winchesters. Angels should guide them to the right path, even if this meant torturing them a little. Angels should persist until their naive Winchesters finally became enlightened. Angels should choose said Winchesters over Heaven.

Winchesters should martyr themselves for one another. Winchesters should go to Hell. Winchesters should die and be revived, rinse and repeat this process. Last but not least, every current generation Winchester should have an Angel.

And Adam was fully determined to explore all the possibilities that the last rule was sure to provide.


The Road So Far is Filled With Sexy Angels...


A/N: Again, if you like my writing, check out my LiveJournal (link without spaces in my first author's note). Everything I write will be posted there, and earlier than things I post here.

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