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).
Start notes: Ha, it's never been my intention to make you guys hate Dean- I love him a hell of a lot, but I wanted to show that he's having as much trouble adjusting as the rest of them- he just expresses it in a different, albeit jackass-y way until you reach the squishiness underneath... that's Dean for you ^^
I'd recommend reading this chapter with 'Shoot to Thrill' by AC/DC playing in the background, seeing as it's meant to mostly read as a montage.
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Coalescence
By Payce D. Elui
Chapter 4: Separation
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The Winchesters stayed for three days. Dean had been true to his word- they had taught him some of the 'family business'- enough to let him get away if he happened upon something strange in a dark alley, at least, and then a little more, just because. It was exhausting.
He didn't think he'd heard even the half of it.
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"Now ghosts come in a few different forms, but the most common is usually just a malevolent spirit with a grudge."
"Just a malevolent spirit, huh?"
Sam ignored his snarkiness and took it as a legitimate question.
"Right. Keeping a ghost out is easy enough- same with demons in that a ring of salt will keep you safe enough-"
"Salt? What, like normal salt salt?"
"Uh, yeah-"
"So I should just make a habit of carrying around a salt-shaker and I should be fine, right?"
"If you're not gonna take this seriously-" Dean was glaring at him, but Adam didn't really care. He knew what he'd seen- a ghoul wasn't something science could explain- or could it? Could it be considered a mutant like the x-men? - But this whole gig was sounding more ridiculous by the second. Salt. Really?
"A bag of salt would probably be more effective. More spread," said Sam with a straight face, and Adam snorted.
Right.
This was his life now.
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They were loud, imposing even; a shock to his system when he was feeling more hostile against them than ever before, and it didn't help the he was already feeling so edgy and they were forcing him to do things he really would rather not-
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"I don't see why I have to do this, it's not like I own a gun anyway." And it wasn't like he was going to be travelling with them either- the odds of him needing to fire a gun anytime in the future were slim to zero. Shame he hadn't gone for the badges to do with guns when he was going for Eagle Scout- it would have spared him this exercise.
"Yeah, yeah, quit your bitching, point and shoot, come on. You're worse than Sam." Dean clapped him on the back, the strength of it making his shoulders sting. "The least we can do is make sure you can shoot straight before we go. Now shoot."
Adam sighed, rolling his shoulders and getting back into position. He supposed Dean was as enthusiastic about this impromptu 'training' session as Adam himself was- Sam had pushed Dean into it, Adam had heard them arguing about it. It was stupid- it wasn't like he didn't know how to fire a gun- he'd managed fine a few days before. Point and shoot- it really wasn't complicated. He said as much, and Dean waved him off, passing him the gun.
Feet planted a shoulder's width apart; he straightened his arms and pointed the gun at the target. Finger on the trigger, he lined up the shot, exhaled and squeezed-
Nothing happened. There was barely time for Adam to voice his confusion before Dean snatched the gun from his fingers and examined it. Not even two seconds later there was a small click and Dean handed it back, lips twitching in amusement.
"Safety was on."
"...Oh."
Dean laughed, leaving Adam feeling like the world's biggest idiot.
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-and they wormed into pieces of his life that he hadn't given a thought to in years-
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"Wait, wait, wait, so you... made this?" Dean asked around the food in his mouth. He gestured to the dish of pasta on the dining table in surprise. "It's not takeout?"
Adam shrugged. It hadn't been his plan to cook for them all- he'd unthinkingly made the usual amount- enough for himself and his mother, but his own appetite wasn't really doing so well, which meant plenty left over. "Too healthy for takeout."
"It's not bad- Sammy, try some."
"Yeah, in a bit, Dean, that's great." Sam was staring distractedly at some of the photos set on the mantelpiece. He'd pointed at one in particular- Adam was a good few years younger, maybe twelve or thirteen years old, a baseball glove in hand as he grinned cheekily at the camera. "You still play?"
"What?" Adam caught sight of what Sam was pointing at, then shook his head. "No."
"You play long?"
"Nah. A few years, but I didn't like it."
Sam's eyebrows rose. "You didn't like it and you still stuck with it for years?"
"It was-" stupid is what it was. He'd joined because his dad had shown an interest in the sport, and stuck with it in the hopes that one day his dad would come to a match and watch him play; maybe even stick around after where he and his mother and father could be a proper family. It had become pretty clear, however, that much as John did care about him, he wasn't going to stick around. He didn't even make it to a single match. The lesson took a few years to learn- Adam quit when he finally got it. "I thought dad was a fan, so I..." He trailed off awkwardly.
"Ah." Sam ambled back to the table serving himself. He took a bite. "Dean was right, this is good."
"Tell me about it." The eldest was already helping himself to seconds.
"How'd you learn to cook like this?" asked Sam. "Never took you for someone who took an interest in this stuff."
He didn't like cooking. His mother had worked late shifts- Adam picking up culinary skills had been a matter of necessity, trial and error in a bid to lower the burden on her while she balanced him and work. "I had practice," Adam said simply, but the words were tinged with agitation, and Sam sent a not-so-subtle look at Dean, and the matter was closed.
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-but they made themselves at home, and Adam might have even been a little annoyed at that, but his mind was occupied by other, stranger thoughts.
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"Ex- Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversary-"
"No. 'Aversarii', not 'advesary'. Again."
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The supernatural was an interesting, if not insidious topic, no matter how unsettled talks about it may have left him feeling. It was a lot easier to talk to the Winchesters when they stayed focussed on 'hunting' and not personal matters, for it left Adam feeling less needled and Sam and Dean a lot more comfortable.
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"So aside from salt, what else?"
"What, against spirits?"
Adam nodded.
"Well, you can go with iron- Dean and I have bullets made of the stuff, but anything would work, really."
"Iron- got it."
"Tools of the trade a usually simple enough. Salt works with spirits- with demons too, and holy water. Silver with werewolves and shifters- shapeshifters, sorry. Fire can work wonders in a tight spot against a wendigo. A shot to the head for ghouls- you knew that one already." Sam looked down, breaking rhythm for a moment before clearing his throat and carrying on. "Once you know what you're up against, it's simple enough to deal with it. In theory."
So they had ghouls, ghosts, demons, werewolves, shapeshifters and wendigos, whatever they were. "Is there any Hollywood monster that's... not real?" All this teaching had been doing so far was making him paranoid.
"Godzilla ain't real," Dean piped in, smirk on his face.
"...What a relief."
He was pretty sure ninety percent of that was sarcasm, but both Sam and Dean chuckled, and Adam leaned back with a sigh.
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Scratch that... it was definitely easier for Adam to talk to the Winchesters about hunting than to anyone else about anything.
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Adam had got to the door a second too late- Dean had beaten him to it. It swung open.
"Nurse Kelly?"
"Agent Nugent?"
She sounded confused- so did Dean, really, and they stared each other down. Adam was frozen half-way down the stairs, and Sam had walked up the hallway to see what was holding Dean up.
Myra held a dish up. "I- came over to see how Adam was doing- is- is he here?"
"Uh- yeah, come on in."
The woman edged around Dean and caught sight of Adam on the stairs,. She relaxed a smidgeon, giving him a small smile which strained as she had to edge around Sam, also. Adam looked between the Winchesters, who were retreating to the kitchen, and then jogged down the stairs to follow his guest to the living room.
She'd stopped short at the mess of the blankets and pillows, because of course, Sam and Dean had taken over the area as a living space, and used to the lack of visitors, had left it messy.
"Maybe the dining... room?"
The large table was covered in papers to do with the supernatural- that sure as hell wasn't anything she needed to see.
"Here's fine, sorry. Sorry," Adam muttered, hastily pulling everything off of one sofa onto another to free it for siting.
She carefully took the free space while Adam sat a little further down from her.
"I bought you some shepard's pie- I know it's one of your favourites," she said, handing the dish over.
"Thanks," said Adam.
There was a silence that quickly reached awkward levels.
"So... how have you been doing- since-?"
"Fine," he said, and she looked unconvinced, so he sighed and carried on. "It's... I'm ok. Really. I've been eating- I'm taking care of myself," he motioned to the bandages still covering his arms, and of that, Myra should have been convinced- she was the one rewrapping them every other day on his trips to the hospital. "I'm going back to school at the end of the week."
"So soon?" She sounded worried.
"Yeah. I- well, there's nothing left for me to do here. I need- something to do."
"Yes," she said, and she sounded sad, "I suppose you do."
She was pitying him- he could feel it sliding over his skin, and it wasn't what he needed. What he needed was to be out of the room. He got to his feet. "I'll get you a drink-"
"No. No, don't, Adam. Sit down."
And he did, jerkily, hesitantly, but he did. She leaned over, fingers settling on his knee, and caught his eye.
"I know it's hard. But you'll be ok, Adam."
"I know," he strained out. The blood was thumping in his ears so loudly that it was making it hard to hear. His body was filling with an awful heat, and it was making his head hurt and his joints ache.
There was silence for a moment, and then Myra got to her feet. "I should probably be going now," she said, sounding reluctant.
"Ok," said Adam.
She gave him another look, and her eyes were misting. She smiled before taking him by surprise and pulling him into a hug. She was gentle, mindful of his injuries, but firm all the same. He'd towered over her since he was sixteen, and her grip around him made him stoop awkwardly. Not a single person had hugged him since he'd gone into that coffin, and he felt the blood rush in his head grow to alarming levels as his eyes began to burn. His arms came up of their own accord, and he hesitantly wrapped them around the woman's back.
"You'll be ok, Adam. But if you ever- ever need a place to stay or someone to talk to- you know where I am. Don't you ever feel as if you're not welcome, you hear?"
"Ok," said Adam, managing not to choke on the word.
She pulled away and the rush in his head subsided, and he composed himself. Myra wiped her face, giving him another smile.
"I won't ask you what the FBI is still doing here, but you could at least tell them to clean up after themselves. This is atrocious," she said, waving an arm at the mess heaped on the other sofa.
His lip twitched. "Thanks for coming, Myra." He meant it. Myra Kelly was one of his mother's closest friends, and one of the people a younger Adam had been left to from time to time when her shifts and Kate's had not overlapped. Aside from a plethora of phone-calls from the rest of her friends, she had been the only one to personally visit him, and he supposed that was fitting.
"You're as good as family, Adam. Don't forget what I said, ok?"
"Ok."
He showed her out, shutting the door slowly behind her.
Sam came up at his back, laying a hand on his shoulder, and Adam supposed he'd heard the whole conversation. "Everything ok?"
He shrugged Sam's hand off. "Yeah." With Myra gone, the heat had left his body completely, leaving him cold again. He made his way back up the stairs and to his room.
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So he'd concentrate on the supernatural and what knowledge Sam and Dean were imparting before they parted ways, for now, at least. It was easier than the alternative.
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The shot was undoubtedly closer to the bullseye than any other he'd fired. Hadn't hit it just yet, but it was just outside the centre ring Dean had painted. It was amazing how much just correcting your stance could help and Adam let out the breath he'd been holding. The recoil wasn't too bad, but it still left the palm of his hand stinging, and he lowered the handgun.
"Getting better," said Dean, nodding in stilted approval. "Now do it again."
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Even if the Winchesters had secrets of their own.
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Adam started as the door leading to the backyard from the kitchen creaked open. It was almost three in the morning and he'd come to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He hadn't even switched the light on- he knew his own house well enough to navigate it in the dark. Both Sam and Dean had left earlier in the evening to take care 'some business of their own' (they'd said), and Adam wasn't expecting them back at all, but here Sam was, creeping into the kitchen at an odd hour of the night. It wasn't like Adam would have been able to mistake his silhouette as that of someone else- Sam was unreasonably tall.
"Sam?"
The figure stilled. "Adam?"
Adam switched the light on, flooding the kitchen with a bright fluorescent light that left him and Sam blinded. A few seconds of blinking rapidly had his eyes adjust to the light and he peered at Sam over the rim of the glass. He seemed... different.
Adam didn't know why exactly- it wasn't like he knew Sam all too well, but there was something about him- his posture was straighter than usual, and his eyes seemed especially alert for that time in the morning. Even his hair seemed a little less in order, but it was none of those things that had his senses tingling in unease. He couldn't explain it right then, but there something definitely off with Sam. There were a few small droplets of dried blood on the chest of Sam's shirt.
"Are you... all right?"
Sam caught sight of where Adam was looking, and peered down at his shirt, blanching ever so slightly at the small mess and then forcing a smile onto his face as he zipped his jacket up over the blood. "I'm fine- nothing for you to worry about. What are you doing up? Trouble sleeping?"
Adam lifted the glass, not taking his eyes from Sam. He was having trouble sleeping, kept feeling like every time he closed his eyes he was back in the dark coffin, but that was none of Sam's business. Not at all.
"Whose blood is that?"
"No-one's- not a monster or anything, either, don't worry about it. Just got into a bit of an argument at the bar- nothing major."
He supposed that that probably was legitimate excuse, but Sam didn't seem like the type for bar fights, that seemed more up Dean's alley. Adam couldn't put his finger on what it was exactly, but...
"Where's Dean?"
"Probably off with some woman somewhere- wouldn't expect him back tonight," Sam said carelessly, turning away. "I'm gonna try get some shut-eye, now... unless you want to talk?"
That had Adam backtracking. "No."
"Ok, then." Sam gave a small nod, his lips quirking. "Night."
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And if he found even an ounce of comfort in the dysfunctional little set up the Winchesters had him in right then, could anyone blame him?
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"Now the easiest way to see is someone is possessed by a demon is by saying 'Christo' in earshot of them. If they're possessed, they'll flinch and their eyes will flash black," Sam explained from the other side of the dining table where he was seated. It was where a majority of their 'lessons' took place, the table large enough for Sam's papers and books to spread along comfortably.
"Christo." The Latin felt heavy against his tongue. At least it was just one word- a hell of a lot easier than the exorcism ritual they'd had him trying to memorise.
"Right. And this- this," Sam pointed to a circle with a five-point star and an assortment of squiggles drawn inside it, "this is a devil's trap. It's different to the protective symbols I showed you last time. You paint it on any surface- if a demon goes in, it can't come out- not until the symbol had been removed or broken, got it?"
"So a little paintwork keeps a- a demon from hell trapped in a circle?" He was sure his scepticism was tangible at this point.
"It's not a circle- it's a devil's trap. And yeah," Sam smiled, "it works."
"And then you use the exorcism ritual to send it back to hell."
"Right, you got it."
It sounded stupid, but really, what did he know?
"You won't be doing any of that, though," Dean piped in from somewhere behind him, "so don't go getting any ideas. Demons- any of this stuff- it's not a game that the good guys always win. It's dangerous. You see anything- anything out of the ordinary, you wait it out and you call us. You don't go after it yourself, got it?"
The lighter atmosphere in the room darkened once again.
"Yeah, I get that," Adam said, his tone bordering on defensive. He would have been more insulted at the implications of Dean's estimation of his intelligence but he knew Dean didn't really think highly of him anyway. "I'm not an idiot- I've seen what they can do."
"Good," said Dean. "Good." He came into Adam's eye-line, serious expression on his face as he glanced between the two younger men. "Demons- can be crafty sons of bitches- if you have your suspicions, the last think you wanna do is tip it off that you know. All shouting 'Christo' into a demon's face is gonna do is get you dead real fast unless you do it without the demon realising what you're doing, or you have a plan and backup to deal with it. You won't be worrying about how to gank the sucker, so all you have to know is how to identify the freak before it knows it's been made so you can get the hell out of the way."
"And how do I do that?" Adam looked at Dean in confusion. "'Christo' isn't really a word you can disguise. You can't really 'accidently' slip them holy water either."
"Ah, ah, ah," said Dean, smirk starting across his lips. "Watch."
He coughed into his fist.
"Heh- Dean, you can't be seri-" Sam was cut off by another cough from Dean, and then another. The tallest Winchester leaned back on his chair, head curved back as he laughed. "You are serious."
Dean's smirk grew a few more inches, and Adam looked between the two in confusion.
"What are you-?" And then it dawned on him. He choked- it really was getting too ridiculous now. "What- you call that move the 'Christo Cough' or something? That actually works? You're joking." He laughed, and it was somewhat of a hoarse sound- it was the first time he'd laughed properly since his mother had gone missing, actually.
"Hey, hey, enough of the laughing- it's foolproof, so the both of you should be able to pick it up easy."
Dean was smirking again, and the expression grew to almost staggering levels when Adam and Sam both realised the insult and stopped laughing long enough to level twin glares at him. Dean seemed to almost puff up; he stared long at Adam, as if seeing something in his face that he hadn't been expecting, then at Sam, before turning away and letting out his own huff of laughter.
"Well, would you look at that, eh, Sammy? Looks like the bitchface runs in the family."
Well Adam hadn't been expecting that. Dean seemed hesitant to include anyone else into his family- much like Adam himself on that front, but there Dean was. It was a small comment, but from Dean, it was a significant one. Adam shifted uncomfortably and looked away.
Sam rolled his eyes, determined to keep the mood light. "So, how many times did coughing in the face of a demon- sorry, the 'Christo Cough' work for you, Dean?" Sam was a mixture of ire and amusement, and seemed poised to jump down Dean's throat the first chance he got. Adam supposed the two needled each other quite a lot- Sam had explained that the two spent a lot of time together on the road. Considering the clash of personalities, that really must have been something.
"Well," Dean's smirk dropped. "Maybe once so far- but- but-" Sam had burst out laughing again. "Hey, demons know who we are- they're just looking for an excuse to know they've been made so they can ice us. Adam- they won't be expecting it from him- as far as they're concerned he's another clueless mook. It'll work for him- it'll work."
Sam pulled himself together, talking a few breaths to steady himself. "Yeah. Yeah, Adam he's probably right there. So I guess we're teaching you the 'Christo Cough.'" He started laughing again.
Dean threw a pen at him.
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Eventually, the time he spent with the Winchesters came to an end, and as promised, they were ready to go their separate ways. Sam and Dean had packed up and loaded their car on Saturday evening and the three were left standing awkwardly out front.
"You sure you don't want us to stay 'til tomorrow?" Sam asked.
"It's fine," said Adam.
"Kid needs his own space and we really need to hit the road, Sam," said Dean, slamming the trunk of his car shut. "He'll be fine."
Sam seemed to almost shuffle a little closer, ducking his head and giving a small smile. He held out his hand and Adam took it, gripping it tightly.
"You sure you don't want to come with? We could always use another hand."
"No," said Adam, "I... think I'm better off at school." And he'd had enough of the supernatural to last a lifetime.
Sam's smile turned a little disappointed, as if he'd held out hope 'til the last second that Adam would change his mind, but the look was fleeting, and he clapped Adam on the shoulder with his other hand. "Ok, then, if that's what you want... it was nice meeting you, Adam. Take care of yourself- and don't be a stranger- call us if you need anything. Anytime. I mean it. We'll check up on you from time to time, all right?"
"You don't have to do that," muttered Adam, pulling his hand free.
"We want to."
Adam swallowed, looking at Sam. He wasn't stupid, he knew that what Sam and Dean did didn't have a high mortality rate- how could it? They dealt with monsters like ghouls- and worse- on a day-to-day basis. He jammed his hands into his pockets, jerking his head away.
"Are you really trying to stop the apocalypse?"
It was a topic that Dean had mentioned in passing at the start that the three of them had studiously skirted around ever since. The question had hung unasked over every 'lesson' that he had been taught, and he supposed now was as good a time as any to get an answer.
"It's... complicated," said Sam, his eyes flickering to Dean momentarily before focussing back on Adam. "We're trying to stop it. We will stop it." The smile he gave was meant to be reassuring, but it didn't help calm the jitter that had started to crawl over Adam's skin in the slightest. "Take care, Adam."
Sam got into the car.
"And if we don't. We're taking out as many evil sons of bitches as we possibly can," said Dean from behind him, "so don't worry about it."
"I'd slow you down," said Adam, trying to quell the nausea that was burning in his stomach. He couldn't possibly be thinking about going with them, not after what happened to his mother-
"Yeah, you would," said Dean. He made to get into the car, but stopped, heaving a sigh and letting the door fall shut again. He turned to Adam looking conflicted as he did. "For the record- it's not about liking you, kid. I don't- what dad did... it doesn't matter-" and Dean looked as if the words were physically paining him to say. "He wanted a different life for you. You're family-" was he trying to convince himself or Adam?- "It's all any of us have left, and hell, the world might even end soon, so what's the point in... arguing over it? You take care of yourself Adam. Make... dad proud." His speech was gruff, and like Sam had before him, Dean stuck a hand out.
Adam took it, feeling strange. Again, the words were not something he'd expected from Dean, and he shifted, trying to disguise his discomfort. "Uh... thanks, Dean. I'll... keep that in mind." It might be the last time he'd ever see them- and a small part of himself was sad to see them go. He had become used to their presence in his life. For having met them only nine days ago, they'd made a sizeable impact. "Good- good luck with... the apocalypse and everything." Boy, he hoped that didn't sound as stupid coming out of his mouth as it did in his head. Knowing his luck, it probably sounded worse. What else did someone say to long-lost brothers going off to stop the apocalypse? The situation didn't exactly come with a handbook.
Dean gave him a long look, head tilting back just a fraction as the smallest smile flitted across his face. Adam heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like: "As big a dork as Sammy, I swear..." before Dean gave him a little shove, smirk fully back in place. Adam could swear that was Dean's default expression, and he rolled his eyes.
"Look after yourself, kid. We'll be seeing you."
The car door slammed behind him, and after a muted "shut up, Sammy," rock music crackled out from behind drawn down windows, and the Impala peeled away, screaming down the road.
Adam watched it until it was out of sight.
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For the record, about five lines back the original interaction with Dean and Adam was this: "Dean gave him a long look, scoffed, and Adam was suddenly jerked forwards into the most awkward hug of his life. He was let go just as fast, and Dean cleared his throat." before I realised that that was wayyyy too easy and my characterisation was being too inconsistent. Sad times. Maybe next time.
And yeah, that blood on Sam's shirt got there after he'd been visiting Ruby.
I was gonna post this tomorrow, but I FINALLY got a job and I'm really happy, so I figured... why not? Thanks to everyone who's following/favouriting/bookmarking this and reviewing- it means a lot. Sorry to those who are commenting as anons or guests- I have no way to reply to you unless you have a username/email, but the comments are still very much appreciated. If all goes well, I'll see you all next Wednesday- have a great week!