Disclaimer: 'Supernatural' is the property of Warner Brothers, the CW, and other associated parties. I claim no ownership of the franchise, characters or settings, nor am I affiliated with the above parties in any way. The following is a fan-work, written for my amusement, and not for material or monetary gain. Please support the official releases. (I don't own this).
I realise this is pretty slow moving- it will be until... chapter 5, or 6, depending on if things in my head transition as smoothly onto paper as I'm hoping they will. Hopefully you guys won't find it too boring in the meantime ^^
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Coalescence
By Payce D. Elui
Chapter 3: Changeover
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Eight days since he'd been called home from university because his mother had missed her shift and was presumed missing.
Seven days since he himself had been captured.
Four days since Dean Winchester had freed him from the coffin he was sure he was going to die in.
The patches of skin that he had been missing had been worrying but he'd been assured that they would heal. He'd have scars along his arms, across his stomach, chest and legs, there was no way around that, but he would heal. The infections that had started setting into the still-raw areas of skin were more worrying, but they had held him in for observation for nearly five days, and he was being fed a diet of several different antibiotics to keep him in check. Dehydration had been the biggest concern. He'd been informed that the human body could survive up to ten days without food, but only three without water, which was something, because the hospitality the ghouls had shown him had ended at a few gulps of liquid two days into his capture.
They'd told him that he was going to be the last one they feasted on, and he'd been kept in the coffin for too many days to have thought otherwise, not when he'd seen his mother ripped into, and been too helpless to save her.
Dean had called in his mother's body nearly four days ago, and the coroners had just released her body back to the family. He'd been visited by a lawyer not long after, heralding his mom's last wishes in the form of her will.
Adam had been released from hospital the night before, had suffered through a few police interviews, coasting on the story that Dean had fabricated and made him memorise. Dean had the larger part to play. He was the 'FBI agent' who had caught a lead and gone to the crypt with his partner when Adam had 'gone missing' in the middle of their investigation.
Adam's part in the story was rather simple- he'd been ambushed from behind at home a few days earlier, after meeting Agents 'Nugent' and 'Smith'. He'd woken in a coffin that he could not open, with his eyes blindfolded. Every time the coffin had been opened, it was too dark for him to get a good look at his attackers, and all that he could really say was that that there was two of them- one man, and one woman.
The lie had felt odd in his mouth the first time, the words seeming to cut jaggedly into his teeth and tongue, aching to tell the truth about what really happened to his mother, but the more he repeated the lie, the easier it became. The cop who'd interviewed him had been a little unnerved by the matter of fact tone that had been coming out of his mouth and maybe he should have put on a better act, but he'd long since run out of energy. There was nothing they could do to disprove the story and it was corroborated by not one, but two FBI agents. The police were now on the lookout for anyone to fit the extremely vague description that Adam and his two new half-brothers had painted, and had opted to leave him alone with his grief until further notice.
He'd been plagued with visitors during his time at the hospital once his mother's body had been recovered and news went out, and it strange just how many people she had actually known. They ranged from people who had seen Adam grow from a boy into a man, to people she'd treated and he'd never met, coming along to pass along their condolences. He'd accepted them with as much grace as he was capable of. His mother had been a kind, beautiful, brilliant woman. The ghouls had left her with nothing.
His thoughts having taken a distinctly darker turn, he was not too disappointed to be jolted from them when there was a knock on his bedroom door.
"Adam, you up? Service is in a few hours." That was Sam.
It was strange, would almost have seemed like someone somewhere was trying to compensate him the loss of his mother with two hulking half-brothers, but any idiot would have been able to see that that was far from a fair trade.
Of course, Sam and Dean Winchester had taken to moving into the living-room of the house when Adam had been released from the hospital, without so much as a by-your-leave. How they would explain that away if anyone asked just why two FBI agents were bunking over at the house of the victim would be interesting. And Dean had made a face at his unfeeling explanation of the past events when he was having his statement taken.
Their presence was maddening, though, especially when Adam just wanted to be left alone. The night they'd escorted him home, Dean had brashly announced that they were staying to keep an eye on him. Sam had given him an apologetic smile, and Adam, who had not the energy to argue, had avoided more awkward conversation by making his way up to his room and easing himself carefully onto his bed. It had been missing its bed-sheets, and he was sure there was a story there, but wasn't one for curiosity at the time.
Now it was morning, the sun had long since risen, and Adam pulled himself out of bed, dragging himself past his mother's room (the door had remained firmly shut and he hadn't had the heart to go in there) and to the bathroom. Having finished with his morning ritual soon enough, he made his way back to his room to get ready. He pulled a suit- the only one he owned- from his wardrobe, and stripped, getting into it. It was old, he and his mother had got it before prom, and while he had filled out a little since then, the length was fine, even if maybe just a little more snug a fit.
Once he was done, he made his way down the stairs, past Sam (who murmured a 'good morning' around the glass of orange juice he'd helped himself to), and through the hallway into the kitchen. Dean was sitting at the table, a sandwich on the plate in front of him. He glanced up, meeting Adam's eyes before giving a short nod and turning his attention back to his food. Adam ignored him, walking over the haphazardly placed mat now situated across half the kitchen floor (he had stopped short in the doorway of the kitchen the first time he'd re-entered the house- the bodies were gone- Dean had said he'd take care of it, and he had- and the kitchen and dining room were clear of any evidence of wrong-doing, save for the new mat. "It's to cover the hole," Dean had said with a stiff shrug).
He opened the fridge. They were running low on supplies, and his mo- he would probably have to go shopping soon. He didn't think he wanted to face it just yet, though he appreciated the sentiments, the pity in the eyes of everyone he'd ever known once they found out what they thought had transpired was loathsome. He grabbed an apple and the last of the milk, settling down on a chair opposite Dean, who gave him a cursory eyeballing before pulling out his phone and focussing on the screen.
This new brother of his may have been insensitive and rude, but he didn't talk to Adam unnecessarily, not unless Adam spoke first, and not like Sam, who'd try to get a conversation going as soon as Adam was in sight. Dean didn't seem to like him, seemed to view him with ire and annoyance, and even gave off the air of being at least slightly uncomfortable around him. He did his best to avoid Adam's presence or ignore him completely, having rarely visited him the days he was in the hospital. He didn't even talk to Adam much, not unless prompted by Sam's less than subtle head shakes and gestures. The atmosphere between Dean and himself often stretched to cool silences, and that was ok- it suited Adam perfectly. Being alone in a room with Dean Winchester was as close to being alone Adam was going to get when the two were forcing their company on him.
Dean was clearing his throat from across the table- probably had a bit of sandwich go down the wrong way, Adam thought detachedly as he considered the fruit in front of him. He'd always been a hearty eater, his mother had found it hilarious considering how scrawny he'd been, but since the ghouls and the subsequent cocktail of medication he'd been on, he'd found it hard to work up an appetite. He wouldn't neglect his body, though, his mother would never have liked that, and Adam knew better. He took a swig of the milk, straight from the carton, though he was careful not to get any on his suit.
Dean cleared his throat again and Adam looked across the table to see Dean was looking at him. He inclined his head towards the sink. "Maybe you should have a drink?"
"What?"
Adam raised an eyebrow. "Your throat?"
Dean frowned in confusion, then shook his head. "Look, it doesn't matter, uh..." He cleared his throat a third time. "You ready for this?"
Adam shrugged, fixing Dean with a state. "It's not like I have much choice."
Dean opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to say something more, but thought better of it, looking away. "...Yeah. I suppose not."
Any semblance of appetite Adam had left was fading fast, and he took a bite of the apple, forcing it down with another gulp of milk. The clock above the doorway to the kitchen showed the time at a quarter to eleven. Sam walked in, placing his now empty glass in the sink.
"Ready to go?"
Dean grunted.
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It was with an ever growing sense of detachment that he watched the coffin- as different as he could have physically made it from the one the ghouls had them trapped in- lowered to the ground
Even in the church, the coffin had remained tightly sealed. The coroners had stitched up the gaping wounds the ghouls had left behind, but Adam remembered them, and the cuts on her face and neck were not so easily hidden by clothes. He didn't need another reminder of how much he'd failed his mother.
It was over soon enough, though maybe not as quickly as he'd have liked. Revellers had come up to him, quietly giving him their condolences, but Adam felt nothing but the smallest prick of sorrow in the midst of the numbness that was consuming him.
His mother was dead, and he stayed behind at the cemetery long after all but a few had left, staring at the grave that marked her final resting place. He could hear the faint echo of voices behind him, Dean and someone else- Sam had opted to stay right at Adam's side the whole way through the service, despite the odd looks he had gained for it, but Adam ignored them all, stooping down and finally placing his own flowers next to the abundance of plants that were already placed around the white stone.
"I'll miss you, mom. I'm so sorry." He placed a hand on the stone, the coolness of it seeming to seep right down into his bones. "I love you." Something cold trailed down his cheek, and he raised a hand to wipe it off, feeling a belated spark of surprise when he realised it was a tear. It was strange, he hadn't felt the urge to cry the whole way through the service, hadn't shed a single tear since he'd come home from the hospital, actually. Even now, it felt like there was a wall in his head, shielding him from the worst of what he knew he should have been feeling.
He swallowed, standing up.
He could hear footsteps coming up behind him, felt a hand briefly touch his arm, and Sam's voice above his ear. "Come on, we should go."
Adam let himself be dragged away, and the two met with Dean a little further back. The man had a look of irritation plastered on his face, staring down at a cop.
"I'm just saying," the cop said, "it strikes me as odd how whoever did this got away from not one, but two FBI agents. You guys are meant to the best, right?"
"Happens to the best of us," Dean gritted out.
"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" asked Sam, striding ahead of Adam to his other brother. Adam glanced between the three of them- this guy being suspicious wasn't something that could end well.
"No!" snapped Dean, the same time the cop said "what, you don't think it's weird how many similarities this case had with the one in 1990?"
"That was what we were basing our lead off of," Sam said, "which you'd have known if you had clearance to read our report. I'm sorry, who are you?"
The cop rolled his eyes. He gave a short look around, finding the cemetery quite empty, before turning back to Sam. "Don't waste my time by pretending that report is anything less than bullshit."
"Excuse me?" Sam's eyes were narrowed dangerously, chest puffing out in a perfect imitation of a man feeling like his station was being offended. Dean was scowling.
"Whatever did this wasn't... natural. There were three bodies missing from the Millsap Tomb. There were other bodies where Ms. Milligan was found that had been picked clean. It was the same thing from the 90s, wasn't it?" The cop looked between the two agents, challenge on his face. "Look, I don't care if you're not who you say you are. S'far as I'm concerned, you did something great for this place. But my uncle was there last time- he found the bodies. Never said much about it, just that it was a monster, and they stopped it. Now I need to know- it's my job to keep this place safe. Whatever it was- did you stop it?"
It was a wholly unexpected, definitely not something that Sam and Dean usually got, Adam could see it despite how apparently great they were at lying. Sam and Dean were staring down at the cop, guarded looks across their faces, and it suddenly dawned on Adam just how badly this could go for everyone involved if the rest of the force realised that his half-brothers weren't who they said they were.
"Off the record?" Dean asked carefully, and the cop nodded. Dean shot a quick look at Sam, and then at Adam behind him. "We dealt with it."
"So it's over?"
"Yeah," Sam said.
The cop let out a sigh of relief. "Good. Good. That's good. Then you'll get no trouble from me." And just like that, he turned on his heel and strode off.
Adam watched him go.
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The ride in the Impala was quiet, as quiet as it could be with the rumble of the car's unique engine, anyway. Adam was sat in the back, Dean up front and Sam riding shotgun. He felt struck by how odd it felt to sit where he was sitting- the few times John had visited, Adam would be sitting where Sam was now as his dad drove him somewhere. He'd become accustomed to it being his seat, though he supposed the car belonged to Dean now. The two Winchesters were talking about something between themselves, and Adam fished his phone out of his pocket.
He hadn't really looked at it, not since his drive down from university, and had it charging all the night before. Looking at it now, he saw the message count was high, unusually so, and started scrolling down the list from the bottom up. Messages from his friends at uni, a lot of them starting with asking if he was ok and if there was any news on his mother, to expressing shock when they'd heard what had happened (how they'd even found out, he didn't know) and condolences, and gratefulness that he himself was safe. He deleted them all, neglecting to reply to a single one. He hadn't thought of school, or his friends- the thought of the more repetitive parts of his life had completely slipped his mind, but he couldn't hide away forever, he'd have to go back eventually. It wouldn't be a picnic to catch up all he missed, and the longer he left it, the more he'd have his work cut out for him.
"-am."
He looked up. "What?"
Sam had the car door open for him, an expectant look on his face, and Adam stared. They'd reached his house already. Oh. He got out of the car and started as Dean gunned the engine and took off again. He was left alone with Sam, who, if past experience was to be believed, would want to talk. On some level he appreciated the sentiment, knew that if it had come under any other circumstance he might even have been revelling in it (how long had he wished that he had a bigger family?) but on another level, one closer to the surface, much as he knew how Sam was only trying to help, his attitude was starting to grate on him. All Adam really wanted right then was to be left alone- the Winchesters were making that really hard. Adam watched as the Impala sped out of sight.
"He figured the house needed some more food," said Sam from somewhere behind him. Adam looked over to see Sam's lips twitch upwards a fraction. "Dean has a funny definition of what counts as 'food', though, so don't be too surprised if all he comes back with is pie."
A small noise of acknowledgement made its way out of the back of Adam's throat, and he turned, making his way back into the house, Sam at his heels. He was halfway up the stairs when Sam called out to him.
"Adam."
"...Yeah?" He half-turned on the step he'd stopped at, looking down at Sam.
"Look, I know you don't know us, and you probably want nothing to do with us, but... we are family, Adam. We're brothers. And if you do need to talk- about anything- Dean and I- we will listen."
"Right."
Adam didn't want to talk. He didn't particularly like the idea of 'blood being family' that Sam was trying to push, either. He turned, slowly making his way up to the rest of the stairs, and escaped back to his bedroom. He ignored the sigh of frustration that wafted up the stairs behind him and closed the door with a small click.
He had some packing to do.
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It was a few hours later that he emerged from his room. It was a lot emptier than before, the remnants of the clothes and belongings he'd left behind at the start of the university year now almost completely packed away. His mother's will had come through while he was in hospital, and she had left Adam everything- the house, all that was in it, her car, and the contents of her bank account. While he knew the house was still his, he didn't want to leave everything of his there when he was gone- better to have everything with him, because there would be no-one to send him what he needed if he found he'd forgotten something once he was back at uni.
He grabbed the now-full suitcase, and lifted, giving a wince as the weight aggravated his still-healing injuries. Ignoring the pain, he hefted the case up, marching resolutely past his mother's room and down the stairs, heading for the garage. Dean had made it back by that point- he and Sam were talking quietly in the living room when Adam had descended the stairs (they were always talking- what did they even have to talk about?), and had paused when they heard him, but he ignored them too, heading for the door to the garage in the kitchen.
He heard Sam and Dean pull up behind him, the tap-tap-tap as the soles of their shoes tapped against the laminate flooring. Adam groped along the side of the wall for a light switch, pressing it when he found it. His car was alone in the garage, his mother's still in the parking lot at the hospital, (he really had to go get that). His car was nothing at all like the Impala in its sleek black glory. The only similarities between them was that they were both motor vehicles- the Impala was a thing of beauty; a classic. He'd known that much when his dad first rolled up in it. Adam's car, a plain blue Ford Focus Hatchback, really couldn't compete. His mother had bought it for him when he'd gotten into university, with the excuse that he'd better use it to visit her as much as he could.
Thinking back on it now, he probably hadn't visited her as much as he would have liked, definitely not as much as he could have, and he felt a dull stab of regret. He opened the car boot, placing the suitcase inside and then shut it, locking the car up behind him.
He turned to exit the garage and instead came face to face with his half-brothers.
"What are you doing?" That was Dean, and his voice was even gruffer than usual.
Adam shrugged. "Look, not that I don't appreciate you two sticking around, but... You're done here, right?" He pushed past the two, heading back for the door to the kitchen, and they followed at his heels. "I mean- the job that dad, that you two do- what you came here for, it's finished, right?"
"Uh, yeah," said Sam.
"So what now?"
"We actually wanted to talk to you about that," said Sam. "We wanted to give you some time first."
"No time like the present," Adam said, glancing at the two of them. He grabbed at a glass from the cupboard and poured himself some water.
"Yeah, maybe you're right." Sam looked a little uncomfortable, and Adam knew that he probably wasn't helping matters, but he didn't really care. "Adam, look, I hate to spring this on you so soon after what happened, but... have you thought about what you're going to do now?"
"I hadn't," Adam said honestly, "but I know what I'm going to do now, yeah." Both Dean and Sam were looking at him rather intently, and Adam frowned. "What?"
"What did you decide on?"
Adam pointed over his shoulder at the garage. "I'm going back to school." Both of his half-brothers looked surprised at that proclamation, Dean's expression quickly making way for a flitter of appraisal, and Adam didn't know why he felt the need to explain himself to these two strangers, but he did. "It's what my mom would have wanted. It's what I want."
"So you're just going to forget what happened here?" Lo and behold, it seemed that Adam had finally managed to irritate the coddling giant.
"Sam," said Dean, just a little sternly. Both Adam and Sam ignored him.
"Uh... no. No, I don't think I'll ever be able to forget seeing monsters rip into my mom while she was still alive and eat her, thanks," Adam drawled, pausing to take a drink when he felt a rush a bile try to crawl up the back of his throat. "But it's dead. There's nothing more I can do. This... gig that you two do? Dad didn't teach me-"
"We could teach you," said Sam. He moved forwards, just a few steps, but Adam stood his ground.
"No." Why on earth would he want anything to do with what got his mother killed? He'd been joking when he said that crazy ran in the family, but maybe it wasn't as much of a joke as he thought it was. Who willingly emerged themselves in a world where monsters were real?
"Adam, we're family."
"What- that's your argument? You- you don't say that to me," Adam snapped, finally started to feel a little rankled. "My mom- she was my family. Me and you? We're blood, but hell, Sam, we're no different than strangers, it doesn't matter how many times you say otherwise. Family? Blood? There's a difference- don't you pretend otherwise. I don't owe you anything- you sure as hell don't owe me, so quit acting like any of that matters."
There was a flash of hurt in Sam's eyes, but Adam shook it off. Who was Sam to wave the banner of family at him anyway? Sam and Dean? They were family- they had each-other. His mom was the only real family Adam had ever, ever had.
"Sam," said Dean lowly, glancing between the two of is arguing siblings. "How is this any different from when you went to Stanford? It happens, man."
"But I was wrong, Dean." Sam looked genuinely distressed as he looked from Dean back to Adam. "We can't just run away from this- Adam, you're one of us whether you like it or not- it doesn't just stop. You pretending to be something you're not- all it does is get people killed."
"Sam." Dean was there before Adam even had the chance to reply, bearing down on his younger brother. Sam glared back at him. "He can be normal. He doesn't have to be like us."
"Except dad tried that, Dean, and look where it got Kate." Sam looked guilty immediately after the words had tumbled out of his mouth, and a heavy silence descended on the kitchen.
Dean sighed. He pointed Adam over to the table, where a slice of pie was sitting on a plate.
"You. Eat."
"I'm not like you," Adam said, staying where he was. "You said dad didn't tell me about all this because it was safer that I didn't know."
"And you saw how that worked out," Sam said, he voice a lot quieter than it had been mere moments before.
Dean gave Adam a small shove, pushing him towards the table. "Siddown and eat your food, kid." There was a spoon already by the plate. "Sam, look at it logically- it's not the best time for the kid to join us anyway. You think he could be much help against what we're up against right now? We're no good babysitting, Sam." The smallest crinkle around his eyes let Adam know the comment was said in good humour. "No offence."
"We need all the help we can get, Dean."
"The apocalypse, Sam. The goddamn apocalypse. We don't have time-"
"He's family, Dean. He's our brother!"
"Yeah, and even if he wanted to come with us, he wouldn't be because it's too damn dangerous."
"Hey, just because I want nothing to do with what you do, doesn't mean I couldn't do it if I wanted to," Adam said, cutting between their arguments, his irritation dripping off of every word. It wasn't like he was something frail that needed to be protected, after all.
"I'm your side here," Dean snapped.
"No," said Adam, giving Dean a glare. "You don't want me coming for your own reasons- you don't even like me, so don't go acting like you're doing me a favour."
There was no move by Dean to even deny it, and the silence that had settled between them once again began suffocating the room.
"What- so we just leave?" Sam asked.
"No," Dean said. He rubbed at his face, a habit he seemed to repeat quite a lot. "Dad tried that." He glanced at Adam. "You're set on going back to school?"
"Yeah."
"When?"
"Couple of days." Adam shrugged. "No point in drawing it out any longer- I haven't got any other reason to stick around here now."
"Right," said Dean. "That's perfect."
"For what?" Sam was leaning against the counter, putting as much space between himself and Adam as he possibly could.
"Dad didn't teach you what he could have, no, but we're not leaving you defenceless, Adam. You're gonna learn some of the family business whether you like it or not."
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Firstly, I apologise if there's anything here that seems off in grammar/spelling- I did read through/edit this the same amount of times as I have the other chapters, but I've been prescribed some new medicine by my doctor, and it's pretty strong, which leaves me feeling pretty bleh and halfway stoned... not a good mindset to be in when you're typing stuff up.
Secondly- I really feel like something is missing from the last exchange, but my addled brain hasn't been helping me remember exactly what it is that I think it's missing, so if I do eventually figure it out... I'll edit this and repost it.
Lastly- if the interaction between the three feels awkward- good, it's meant to be. I had... not the privilege, per se, but the experience of seeing a situation vaguely similar to this pan out. Not that the father of the people I'm talking about was a hunter or that he died- he was a guy who had been married, been divorced, and then got married again. He had kids with both partners, but Woman B didn't like Woman A very much, or vice versa, and barred their kids from seeing, interacting or getting to know each-other. When the kid's from both sides of the family eventually met up because they actually wanted to know more about their half-siblings, even though they wanted it, it was still awkward as hell. Oh, now they're close as can be, but it took a while to get to that point. Fun times.