Special thanks to Phx, who filled in for my regular beta for this one.

No spoilers. Set sometimes after S5. I own nothing. Reviews craved.

SPNSPN

The Drifter

He sits with his hands folded, watching the police officers talking by the door. They think the handcuffs are enough. They think that they brought him into this interrogation room against his will.

They have no idea.

No one makes him do anything, anymore.

The sheriff accepts a folder from the young deputy, and moves to the table, sitting across from him, just in front of the two-way mirror. That's one image he avoids.

Mirrors are not his friend. Every time he sees himself in one— Well, the mirror rarely survives the encounter.

"So," the sheriff begins, pausing to clearing his throat. He wheezes slightly on the exhale. A smoker, eh? "The deputies stopped you on Route 61, speeding. No ID. No cash. No wallet. Not even a cell phone."

He lets a sliver of a smile crease his otherwise impassive face as the sheriff ticks off the facts on his fingers.

"The Charger was registered to someone else, from another state. There was blood in the back seat. When they went to read you your rights, you declined."

Guilty as charged. This is going to be a fun place to stay for a few weeks. Well, he would think so.

"Care to explain any of that?"

"Just on my way to a family reunion," he says, mocking seriousness.

"Reunion," the sheriff repeats, staring down at the file. It is painfully obvious that the man doesn't believe him. Not that it matters.

"Yes," he said earnestly. The reunion part is true. "Going to be a hell of a time."

"I'm sure," the sheriff replies snidely. His patience is clearly running thin, and the strain of it is showing on his face. The man should really mind his blood pressure.

"You know how tough they can be, Larry. Yours was a disaster." He says, relishing the way the sheriff freezes and looks up at him. More than doubt is crossing the older man's face now.

"How do you know my name?"

He lets his smile grow into a wide grin. He loves this part, where they begin to realize that he's more than he appears to be, not just layered clothes and flimsy cover stories. "You should have known better than to sit your aunt and uncle next to each other. The divorce was way too bitter."

Larry's face is turning ashen now. Doubt is transforming to fear. When he speaks again, he's almost whispering.

"Who are you? How can you possibly know that?"

Adam shrugs lightly, simultaneously unlatching the handcuffs and locking the door with a thought.

"Let's just say I've been touched by an angel, in all the wrong ways."

SPNSPN

Three hours later, all twenty-three employees of the Grant County Sheriff's Department are dead.

Adam wipes his bloody hands with the towel, again. Sometimes it's just so hard to get it off. He discards the red-stained terrycloth and continues his stroll up the town's main drag. The street is lined with a few mom & pop stores and the usual assortment of discount stores, restaurants and boarded up theaters, like almost any of the small towns he's been through.

He's only six hours from Sioux Falls, and the urge to get there and start the little family reunion he has planned eats at him, like it has every day for the past three months, but he suppresses it.

They aren't even there yet. Be patient. He tells himself.

There's a thirty-something man in a sweater getting out of his car a dozen feet in front of him. The car is a 2003 Impala. Adam smirks. Isn't that ironic?

He intercepts the man as he's locking the door and smiles brightly. "Hey, man. Nice car."

"Uh…thanks." The man looks at him oddly. It makes sense, Adam's a stranger in town.

"I'm gonna need it. You don't mind, right?"

The man is predictably taken aback. "What? No! You can't have my car!"

Adam sighed. He should've have kept that towel.

END