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).
Technically a day late- apologies... life- but it is the longest chapter to date, so that's something. I've never really used Google Maps for anything but checking out where I live, but for this chapter, I used it to creep around the University of Wisconsin... that was pretty funky. The university is MAHOOSIVE and... fun fact...! There's a place right there called... get this... 'Adam's Hall'. HA! ...I think I need a lie down.
Incidentally, this chapter was comparatively harder to write than the others because I was realllllly looking forward to writing the next one and the one after that. Have been since I started on this project. So exciting!~
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Coalescence
By Payce D. Elui
Chapter 5: Regression
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||Sunday March 01 2009: 18:34
||Outside the Elizabeth Waters Hall, University of Wisconsin, Madison
Adam eased into a parking space and got out of the car. He'd made good time, and it was early evening- his roommate would most definitely be in right then- most likely most of the people in his block would be in or getting in about then to get ready for Monday.
He stared up at the building he'd be spending the next few months in. The Elizabeth Waters halls had been a home away from home to him for the past couple of months. Near enough to the student unions, the lecture halls and libraries not to mention the lakeshore and other housing facilities, Adam had been lucky to apply and get a place there first time. It was convenient- all round perfect, really.
University had held a great deal of meaning to him not even a year ago- he'd worked damn hard to get into the school and had made some great friends there. His mom had been proud of him, and he was on the right track to getting into medical school.
Staring at the building now?
Funny how his ambitions felt so paltry all of a sudden.
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||Sunday March 01 2009: 21:13
||Somewhere in Minnesota
"Well if it isn't our own little version of the Hardy Boys. Fancy seeing you here!"
He was a middle-aged man, in his fifties, perhaps, and he was dressed immaculately in a black fitted suit, complete with a silver chequered tie. As soon as he'd entered the dingy little cafe something about him had set Dean's nerves on edge. He'd been proved right, too- the man had made a bee-line for their table, and all of a sudden the buzz of civilisation seemed to fall away as the room froze; Sam, Dean and their newest arrival seeming to be the only ones able to move. They wasted no time getting to their feet, guns drawn.
"Ah, ah, ah," the man waved a finger. "You've been giving the kids quite a little run-around- it's my turn now."
He snapped his fingers and their worlds were engulfed in a bright white light.
† † †
||Monday March 01 2009: 06:00
||Columbus, Ohio
Dean Smith fumbled for the chiming alarm clock and switched it off. He rolled out of bed, giving a long stretch and groaning as the kinks of sleep were worked out of his body. Today was the day he started at Sandover as the Director of Sales and Marketing. Dream job. It was like his whole life had been leading him up to this moment. He grinned brightly, striding towards the shower.
† † †
||Monday March 01 2009: 07:53
||Elizabeth Waters Hall, University of Wisconsin, Madison
Adam bolted upright as a something smacked him in the face. "What-?"
Terror like he'd never felt before- he should have known better than to let his guard down-
"Ah, you're up. Good."
A few seconds of blinking wildly and the room came into focus. His hands were clenched and he felt sick.
"Earth to Adam? You said to wait 'til morning- you're lucky I let you sleep this long. Get up- come on."
Adam exhaled a shaky breath, struggling to calm his beating heart. Dominic. Just Dominic. A serious looking Dominic at that. One who looked like he wouldn't take no for an answer. Adam had seen Dominic in these kinds of moods before. There was no reasoning with his roommate when he was like this, and he sure as hell didn't have the energy to try. Dominic had practically jumped on him when he realised the other bed in the room was occupied the night before, and Adam had only been allowed to sleep once he promised that he'd answer his roommate's questions in the morning.
A great deal of messages that Adam had deleted from his phone were from Dominic himself- he was one of the first friends that Adam had made when he arrived at University. If anything, he at least owed him an explanation. Not that he wouldn't try to drag it out as long as he could. He flopped back under the covers.
"Can I at least have breakfast first?"
Dominic rolled his eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh before he strode out of the shared room. Not a minute later, Adam heard the door swing open once again, a small weight thumping against his head with the arrival. He peered around the blanket covering his eyes, Adam picked up the box of cereal that Dominic had thrown at him. Lucky Charms. Ha. Good enough, he supposed. He sat up and opened the box.
"One of the girls in the year up lives in Windom same as you," said Dominic from across the room. Adam popped a few pieces of cereal into his mouth. "She said... some stuff." Dominic shuffled, very obviously uncomfortable, and moved to settle on the other bed in the room. He added, more quietly, "I heard about your mom. It was in the papers, too."
Crunch. Adam swallowed. He reached into the box for some more cereal.
"You don't look like you got off too easy, either." Dominic gestured to the bandages still covering Adam's arms. "What happened to you? Why are you even back, man? Should have stayed off 'til the end of Spring Break at least- you look like you should still be in hospital or somethin'." He had his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward.
Adam's lips gave a small twitch. He waved one of his arms, ignoring the twinge of pain in it. "Not as bad as it looks." His mother had got it worse.
"Biology's not that important, bro."
"Life doesn't stop just because my mom isn't... around anymore, Dom," Adam drawled steadily. "It's what she would have wanted, anyway. And it was better than staying home."
The one night he'd spent there entirely alone after Sam and Dean had left, he'd spent awake the whole time.
He still hadn't had the courage to go into his mother's room.
Dominic was looking a little lost for words. He didn't know what to say, and Adam could empathise with that on some level. They'd only really known each other since September- and sure they'd hit it off, but even if they were friends, what would anyone be able to say to someone who'd lost a parent? His mother- and hell, he hadn't really even thought about John's death, but there was that too. He hadn't even asked how it had happened. What kind of person did that make him? What could Dominic say to any of that? He didn't know the half of it.
"Look, I don't really want... to talk about it, ok?"
"Ok," said Dominic, shrugging. "I'm not gonna make you talk- I'll leave that to your girl. Just wanted to see if you were all right for myself."
"I'm fine," said Adam, rolling his neck.
"Good man." Dominic flopped back on his bed, his feet dangling off the edge. "You're gonna be in for a lot of questions today, ya know. From Imogen, especially," he commented at the ceiling.
Imogen. His girlfriend of about a month or so. Kinda. A fair chunk of the texts he'd deleted had been from her, too.
"She know I'm back yet?"
"Everyone knows you're back, bro. I'm surprised she hasn't broken the door down already- she was pretty worried."
Adam sighed. There went his plan to ease back into life at uni. Not that he was planning to avoid everyone, but... "Breaking down doors isn't Imogen's style."
"Nah, you're right. She'd probably talk it down into opening itself."
Adam threw a pillow at him. Imogen was majoring psychology, and she was big on talking and feelings in general. He was dreading being in the same room as her anytime soon.
Dom laughed.
The moment passed and Dominic shifted. "You talked to any of the professors yet?"
They were moving away from talk of Windom, and Adam relaxed. He could do that. "Meeting them today- I emailed them a few days ago. You have a copy of the notes from what I missed, by the way?"
"Yeah, I can just photocopy mine, it's all good."
"Thanks." Going back to normalcy would be good.
"Ain't a problem.
There was a quiet knock on the door and the handle was pulled down. It slowly swung open, bringing a face that he hadn't wanted to be confronted with so soon.
Imogen stood in the doorway in all her red-haired glory.
"Adam?"
The room suddenly felt too crowded. "...Hey."
She walked forward, settling on the edge of his bed before leaning forward and throwing her arms around him. He winced as she pressed along his injuries, and she drew back, he hands going to his hair, his face, and then down his arms until her fingers were twined with his. This close, he could see every freckle on her light skin.
"I heard what happened. I'm so sorry, Adam," she said, her pretty face alight with sympathy- with pity- as she took in the sorry state of him. He straightened his back, frowning.
"It's..." It wasn't ok, not by a long shot. But he really, really didn't want to talk about it. He hadn't with Sam or Dean. He didn't want to with Dom. Not with Imogen, either. He didn't want to talk about the lie, and she wouldn't understand the truth, so what was the point?
"I'll leave you to it," said Dom, springing up from the bed and leaving the room.
"I was worried about you."
"Yeah, I..." If he was truthful, he hadn't given a single thought to her while he was in the coffin. She was his girlfriend, and before that, for months and months, his friend, and he hadn't thought of her once. Not even when he was out. He was pretty sure that made him some sort of jackass.
"How are you handling things- you know, with your mom..?"
Adam shrugged, pulling his fingers from hers. He needed space, but she was leaning in, and Adam got out of the bed. She looked hurt, sitting straighter as he hands folded neatly into her lap. She looked up at him.
"What is it?"
"Nothing, it's... don't you have a lecture right now?" Utterly tactless of him, and pretty damn rude, too. He didn't know what was wrong with him.
"You want me to go?"
"No-" and he didn't, not really, but he didn't want her to stay if she was going to suffocate him with questions. "I- look, Imogen, I just... don't want to talk about what happened, or how I'm dealing with it, or anything, all right? Look- my mom- I know what happened. And I'm dealing with it. Ok?"
"Ok," she said, getting to her feet. She still looked worried, damnit- he hated that look, he'd had enough of it since his mother's funeral. Imogen's eyebrows were drawn down, and she'd caught her lip between her teeth. She slowly walked towards him, her arms reaching around his middle carefully and tucking her head under his chin. "I'm just glad you're back," she said quietly, "and you know when I am when you do want to talk."
"Yeah," said Adam, slowly drawing his arms around her.
He still felt cold.
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And so he had the meetings with the staff, shook off the suggestions that he should speak to the on-campus councillor, and became as accustomed to the looks of pity that were sent his way from person to person as more people than ever before found out who he was.
It got harder and harder each passing day.
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||Wednesay March 11 2009: 17:22
||Sunroom Cafe, University of Wisconsin, Madison
Life went on and the next few days were a blur of night terrors, classes, and pity being thrown at him from all directions. Inane chatter filled the gaps, something that he was not really expected to take part in, so he didn't. What did he care for sports, gossip, cars, people, when he knew what he now knew? The many kinds of monsters were on his mind more often than not, and that didn't make him any better a listener. Interactions were awkward, and he was on edge enough to snap at comments he knew shouldn't be getting to him, but were. He was better off keeping quiet. Thinking. So Imogen talked about classes, Dominic and Kathy about sports, Max about girls, Ben about books, and Adam sat back and kept quiet.
He appreciated the respite, but all too soon the subject of Spring Break was coming up. He'd only been back ten days. Spring Break started in two.
"You fine with me not sticking around? I mean, I could if you wanted the company. You might need help going over all the notes I gave you anyway."
Dominic was looking over at him from across the table they were all sharing, and Adam slowly blinked, the words passing over his head. "What?"
"Spring Break," Imogen gently prompted. "I'll stay with you, too. Or you could spend it in Duluth at mine?"
The way that they were looking at him right then- the way that everyone was always looking at him, treading lightly around him like he was something delicate, was getting on his nerves.
"No. No- it's fine. The both of you go home."
"You sure?" Dominic asked.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure." He barely refrained from rolling his eyes.
"We don't mind staying, Adam, really-"
Oh for crying out loud- "I don't need a babysitter," he snapped out.
"That's not what we were implying at all, Adam!" Imogen snapped back, matching his ire.
"Really." He found that hard to believe.
"Yeah, really," she said, sitting straighter in her chair and managing to simultaneously put both anger and hurt into her voice in equal parts. "We don't want you to be by yourself because we care about you, not because we think you'll do something stupid- why is that such a bad thing?"
Well, it wasn't. Not put like that, and Adam didn't know why he'd gotten so irritated. He rubbed at his forehead, taking a long breath out and tried to calm down. "Look, I'm-sorry- all right?"
"It's cool." Dominic shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Just try to chill out a little, bro. We're not the enemies here, so don't go treating us all like we are."
He'd been snapping at them all in equal amounts, and he knew he was wrong for it.
"Ok. Ok. I know, ok?" He just couldn't stop doing it. He nodded, reaching out across the table to take Imogen's hand. "I'm sorry."
She gave him a small smile. "It's ok."
"I just- I don't need you to stay. I'm not staying here over Spring Break, anyway. But, uh- thanks. For the offers."
"What? Why- where are you going?" Imogen sounded genuinely surprised.
He shrugged, trying to force as much nonchalance into his voice and posture as he possibly could. "Home. It's my house now- I need to look after it."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asked quietly, and Adam quashed the burst of irritation he felt at it ruthlessly.
"Yeah. I have a lot to catch up on anyway-" he nodded at Dominic at that, and it was true- he'd fallen behind the days that he'd missed, and it was hindering his understanding in class now, "-so I'll be busy with that. Don't worry about it."
"If you're sure..." she didn't sound convinced, but Max and Ben crashed back down at the table with their ordered sandwiches and the conversation was over.
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||Saturday March 14 2009: 19:12
||Milligan Residence, Windom
He shut the door behind him, pushing down on his trepidation and making his way into the living room.
The tables were already covered in a thin layer of dust. He felt sick. He sighed, striding over to the windows and throwing them open. The air flowed in, immediately replacing the staleness that had been overwhelming him moments before, and Adam sunk into the sofa. He threw his travel bag and keys onto the table, toeing his shows off in the process. Just because his mother was no longer there to tell him so, didn't mean shoes were allowed in the chair. She'd probably come back from beyond the grave to smack him upside the head if he ever got mud on the upholstery- and the thought of that would have been comical if he didn't know that that was probably a real possibility with the way that she had died, thanks to the little lessons Sam and Dean had been giving him. The thought didn't cheer him one whit, and he curled up on the sofa and closed his eyes, the silence of the house seeming to swell to impossible heights.
He phone buzzed, breaking the silence and he pulled it from his pocket, unlocking the screen to see a barrage of new messages- from Dominic and Imogen, as well as from Max, and even one from Ben. He didn't open any of them, instead switching to his contacts list and scrolling down to 'W'. Winchester. Past Dean, he hovered over the option to call Sam.
Call us anytime, Sam had said. He didn't want to call them, though. Speaking to them face to face was awkward enough, he had enough mind to realise a phone call would probably go down in a pretty similar way, and he rolled his eyes, shifting onto his back on the chair. What to say, what to say? In the end it was simple.
Adam: Hey Sam. How's things?
He felt a stab of disquiet as soon as the message was sent, and sat up, tossing his phone onto the table and grabbing his keys.
The front door slammed shut behind him.
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||Saturday March 14 2009: 19:32
||Columbus, Ohio
Buzz.
Sam Wesson jerked from his sleep at the sound. He glanced at his watch, grimacing at the time. Asleep on a Saturday, and it wasn't even eight yet? It had been a long week, though, and the weird dreams hadn't helped...
He shifted on the hard couch, trying to get comfortable, and groped at his side for his phone.
Adam: Hey Sam. How's things?
Sam squinted at the message in confusion. Who the hell was Adam?
He groaned, exiting the message and tossed his phone over his shoulder, rolling onto his side and closing his eyes.
A few minutes later and Sam was snoring softly once again.
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||Wednesday March 19 2009, 18:10
||Milligan Residence, Windom
Sam still hadn't replied, but Adam hadn't held much hope that he would. The whole 'we're family' spiel was flimsy at best; he had doubted it would hold up to distance. Added to the low mortality rate of 'hunting'...
Adam was doing his best not to think about it.
Denial was a state he was getting too comfortable with and it was time to do something about it.
He opened his eyes, letting out a slow sigh and after a full five days at home doing his best to ignore its existence, he finally pushed the door to his mother's room open.
The room was empty; as empty as the rest of the house, and he hadn't expected otherwise, but it still hurt.
The bed was a mess, the sheets having been ripped from it by Dean, and the comforter in a heap on the floor. He moved with mechanical jerkiness, hefting it up and making the bed as best as he could before he moved to the windows, pushing the curtains aside and sliding the window open to let some air into the room.
He moved past the bookcase and to her closet next, going for the top where she kept a file full of important documents, next to which she kept box of what she had once told him were her most important mementos. He'd never seen inside it.
He grabbed the box (and it was lighter than he had expected) and sat on the edge of the bed, setting it beside him. He lifted the lid and was greeted with a mess of objects. One, a stack of what looked to be drawings Adam had made his mother as a child. They were terrible. Two, two photo albums. Three, a stack of cards, from 'it's a boy!' to 'happy birthday!' in occasion. Four, a battered copy of J. M. Barrie's Peter Pan that she had read to him night after night when he was a child. She had said it was her favourite book. And five, a small jewellery box which held a simple silver band inside. He wondered who that had been from. He fingered through the badly drawn art from his younger years with a touch of a smile on his face before moving to the albums, peeling them open.
He was faced with photo after photo of his own face through the ages. His mother was in just as many photographs, and a few even featured John. For a family of two and a half, his mother sure had filled the pages. Adam hadn't looked at the albums in some time, and his eyes roved the pages, drinking in the many details.
...They were happy.
His eyes came to rest on a photo at the end of the second album. It had been taken a few months before his graduation of high school, when he'd finally earned the rank of Eagle Scout. His mother had been so proud, and her arms were thrown around him as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. Adam, for his part, had a stupid mix of a grin and grimace on his face as he kept a tight hold of the badge with one hand, and flailed in his mother's grasp.
He didn't remember who took the photo. He smiled a little wider at it anyways, the expression feeling odd on his face.
He didn't know how long he'd been staring at the photo before he caught sight of something behind the album, etched into the floor of the room.
Were they... scratches?
He slid off the bed, setting the album down and reaching for the marks on the floor. His fingers ran over the thin grooves in the wood.
They were scratches.
With a grunt, he pushed the bed back, and with horror he saw that the scratches dragged all the way from the edge of the bed... to the vent beneath it.
This was where they'd taken her.
He felt sick.
He grabbed the album and rocketed backwards away from the scratches, only stopping when he hit the bedside cabinet. There was a clatter and Adam started, head snapping round to stare at the photo-frame that had fallen from the cabinet when he'd lurched into it. He reached for it with shaking fingers, flipping it and twitching when he saw the smiling face-
John Winchester's smiling face.
He didn't have to think very hard to remember what the ghouls had said- the words were playing on a loop in his head every night. "This- all of this- you can thank John Winchester for it all-"
And God, she was dead because he didn't know- because John Winchester hadn't told them-
The wound on his arm gave a particularly violent throb.
With a barely repressed retch, he threw the frame across the room with all his might. It hit the wardrobe full force, the glass shattering over the floor.
He was shaking, his fists tight and blood thumping in his eardrums. The heat was back, more stifling than ever before and this time he did nothing to hold it back as it fought to consume him, burning in his eyes.
Adam curled in on himself and finally wept.
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||Friday March 21 2009, 13:30
||Milligan Residence, Windom
"Four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a dining room and a living room, a double garage, drive, and a front and back yard. Well furnished and spacey, and in a great location- I can see this property being snapped up pretty fast, Mr. Milligan. If you're looking to up the price, cleaning it up a little more might be some use." The estate agent gave a pointed look at the dusty furniture and salt lining the windowsill in the living room. He'd been using what the Winchesters had taught him. "How soon are you looking to move?"
"Uh, I'm at school until the end of May- I'd prefer it to be done before then. I don't really want to come back here. Too many... memories." Adam shifted. The decision to sell the house had been a hasty one, but the little episode he'd had in his mother's room a few days before had helped clear his head. He no longer liked being in the house, and saw no future for himself there.
He'd been forced to go to an estate agent for help when it came to the house- honestly, he didn't have any idea about how the whole property market worked, but since sorting his mother's room, he'd had enough of knocking about in the house on his own. It was eerie and without his mother, there was no feeling of home or peace left to be found in it. Every inch of it came with another memory, and he would drown in them if he didn't leave.
Selling it- he couldn't deny that it felt wrong; it was the only home that Adam had ever known, and his mother had worked hard for it, but on his own there was no use for it. It was time to move on.
"Ah, yes." The woman gave him what was meant to be a sympathetic smile, but it came across as more condescending and fake. "I'd heard about the tragic circumstances. I'm sorry for your loss."
"Yeah. Thanks," he returned flatly.
Platitudes done with, it was back to business. "Will you be taking the furniture with you?"
What use would he have for it all? "I'll get rid of as much of it as I can, but I'm only here for a few more days. I'm taking what I need, so most of it will still be here. Is that- will that be a problem?"
He really didn't want to have to come back to the house.
"Honestly, it depends on the buyers and what they want from the property, Mr. Milligan- people are a mixed bunch. Most people appreciate a little furniture, though- new families especially."
"Right." And now it came for his other problem. "Is there any way I can sell it for cash only? I have savings- my- my mom did too, but if I'm looking to buy an apartment or something, they probably won't last long, you know?"
He'd never had to worry about money before, not really. Even when he'd grown up, realised the reality that his mother was a single parent most of the time, his mother had forced it into his head that the house income wasn't something for him to worry about. That didn't stop him getting a job as soon as he was able so that he could contribute, but moneywise, they'd never really had it that bad. Now, though- he was aware that he didn't have his mother to fall back on.
He didn't have a job anymore- he'd quit when he'd started university. The combined savings of his mother and himself were static, an amount of money that was only ever dwindling. It had been a bit of a shock to realise that he was still being billed for water, electricity and gas for what was effectively an empty house. The thought of house bills hadn't even crossed his mind.
"Yes, of course, I understand where you're coming from. We'll see what we can do for you."
"Thanks."
Two days later, he'd left the key to the house with Myra to use when prospective buyers came a-knocking. Some of the loose furniture he'd been able to shift had been sold and delivered to the various antique shops his mother had brought them from over the years, same for some of the more expensive jewellery she owned. It felt wrong to profit from her personal belongings, but he pushed past the feeling. He was on his own now.
Her car stayed in the hospital parking lot- he still hadn't gone to fetch it. Her clothes and shoes went to charity shops, same for the small decorative pieces sitting on various shelves behind glass partitions. Her books were donated to the local library he'd helped refurbish for his Eagle Scout Service Project, save for the battered copy of Peter Pan from her box of mementoes- that, Adam held on to.
He held onto everything in that box, moving all of it, along with the files she had of important documents- birth certificates and the like, into the trunk of his car. His clothes he'd taken to university already, but he packed the baseball mitt sitting in the back of his wardrobe, as well as all the badges and paperwork he'd received as a Scout, and a snow-globe his mother had bought him when he was eight after he'd fallen out of a tree and broken his arm. There was also the one gun that the Winchesters had left him, despite Adam's protests of not having a licence. ("Make sure you hide it well, then," Dean had snapped, forcing it into his hands.) He'd left it stashed in the back of his wardrobe. This time it was coming with him.
On Sunday the 23rd of March at 11am, Adam Milligan shut the door of his childhood home for the last time.
† † †
||Tuesday March 24 2009, 10:12
||Outside Stirling Hall, University of Wisconsin, Madison
"I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Mr. Milligan."
Adam withheld a sigh. "All I'm asking is that I be allowed to sit in on some of your lectures, Peter. I promise not to disturb any of the students on the course- I won't even talk to them. If I do, you can ask me to leave, and I will." He was probably laying it on a little thick there, but anything to get the job done...
"Yes, but- Adam, was it-?" Adam nodded. "Adam, you say you're a biology major on the pre-med track? Mythology and folklore? They're not helpful to your educational interests in the slightest."
"No, no they're not, but- I still find the subject very fascinating." He didn't- mythology, folklore- they'd been interesting to hear about as stories, but never something he'd had an active streak in perusing the knowledge of. Now that the creatures in them were an actual reality, it was more a case of need-to-know information rather than an indulgence of a casual hobby.
His mother had died because he didn't know. And now that he knew what was out there, it was best to arm himself with as much knowledge as he could. Not so that he could go on a crusade- the prospect of coming face to face with more monsters was not one that he was happily anticipating, but if it ever did come to pass, he would make sure that he was capable of protecting himself. Of protecting others.
Internet searches to find out more on the supernatural were leading him to masses of contradictory information- why not get more information from a legitimate source? Not that he'd take everything from the mythology and folklore lectures as a solid fact, but hey, at least he was branching out.
The professor, a greying man in his fifties, looked sceptical. "Do you not think that this would detract from your own studies? Time spent in lectures you don't need to go to could be better spent elsewhere, Mr. Milligan."
And there came the irritation. He clamped down on it as best as he could. "I'd only be going to the lectures that didn't interfere with my own ones- I don't want to jeopardise my degree."
"Adam-" and the tone was enough to know that he wasn't budging-
"Please- Peter- sir, all I want to do is sit at the back and listen. I wouldn't be affecting you or your students at all. I just- it gives me something else to think about. Please." He had his eyes on his feet at the end of it, not wanting to see the rejection on the man's face.
The professor sighed. "All right, all right. Fine. Why you'd want to sit in a lecture hall when you don't have to if beyond me, but what do I know of kids these days? Be sure you keep to your word, Mr. Milligan, or you'll be out on your ear. Agreed?"
Adam nodded in relief. "Thank you."
† † †
||Friday March 27 2009, 18:22
||Campus Grounds, University of Wisconsin, Madison
"A break, huh?" He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He couldn't have said that the proposal was entirely surprising, not with how snappy he'd been as of late, but he hadn't expected it so soon. He must have been acting more unbearable than he thought for Imogen to actually want to step back. She had bought him out for a walk on campus to break the news to him.
Imogen looked entirely too miserable as she came to a stop. It was not an expression that suited her. "It's not forever-not unless that's how you feel about us when you're feeling... better. For the record, Adam, I don't mean this to be a permanent thing, but I think a break will be good for you. I think it's better for you to concentrate on yourself for a while, instead of balancing everything on top of a relationship. You see where I'm coming from, right?" She sounded anxious as hell.
Adam couldn't help but look at her. Really look at her. He hadn't realised how tired she herself had been looking recently. And she was watching out for him. Still. He knew he hadn't been treating her well- not since the event that capsized his life, but she was still looking out for him. It made him feel guilty. He hadn't tried as hard as he could have. He should have considered her feelings more. "Yeah. Yeah, I understand." He gave her a slightly sheepish look. "I know I haven't been very- normal- since... you know. But I'm working on it. I'm trying; it's just..."
Hard. It was hard.
She smiled, touching his shoulder. "I get it Adam. It's ok. After what happened- no-one's expecting you to be 'normal' right away. Obviously something like that- it's gonna affect you. And I'm not just... dumping you- I wouldn't-" she floundered for a moment, brows pulling down in dismay. "I know it might look that way, but it isn't. I care about you, Adam," she said softly, looking away from him, "but Spring Break- it did you good. You seem- I don't know... lighter? And it was because you needed time alone. I don't want you to feel locked into something when you're trying to work through... everything. And I'll support you every step of the way, you know I will."
She was biting her lip at the end of that, looking far too unsure for his liking. This wasn't... her. Her confidence had been what had drawn him to her all those months ago. The way she was being right now- this was his fault, at least partly. Debating the action for a second or two, he won out with himself, finally threading his fingers through hers and gently tugging them into a slow walk once again.
"I know. I- care about you, too." And he did. He just wasn't sure how it translated now. His priorities, they were different. He liked her, he really did- he remembered how ecstatic he'd been when she'd said yes almost two months ago, but things were different now.
Adam felt out of place, and it only made relating to those around him harder. They knew nothing of the world around them- blind to the supernatural like he was not too long ago. He couldn't tell them- they'd think he was crazy. So they walked around blind. That ignorance- it was bliss. He would almost have been jealous, but then the image of his mother being torn to shreds would pop back into his mind, and he'd reconsider. How nice it would have been to be able to go back. But things didn't work that way. He wet his lips. "You're right- I did need the time to myself. Dominic was right- I should have waited 'til after Spring Break to come back, but I didn't want to stay in the house. But I think I'm getting... better." He inwardly cringed at that. It sounded pathetic.
"I'm glad to hear that, Adam," she said with a smile, and she leaned into him. He let her. She needed it.
Adam wasn't sure what he needed.
† † †
||Sunday March 29 2009, 23:34
||Columbus, Ohio
"My car- my baby, if there's a single scratch on her, I swear on all that is holy that I'll-"
"You'll what, Dean?" Sam clambered into the Impala leaving Dean to circle it, making sure it was in one piece. Apparently satisfied, the eldest Winchester joined Sam, taking the driving seat and levelling his hands on the steering wheel as if to assure himself of the solidness of the vehicle. There was silence, and then-
"I don't like this."
"You're telling me."
"Fucking angels, man. 'Zachariah', now? What the hell was that? They took our memories, Sam. Three weeks worth!"
"Yeah, yeah, I got it- I was there, Dean."
"'This isn't a curse it's a gift,'" Dean mimicked Zachariah's last words to him mockingly. "What a jackass." Sam grunted in agreement. Dean stared at him. "Why aren't you more pissed?"
"Dean- angels- they're not what we thought they'd be-" here, Dean snorted, "but what they want... right now, that's what we want. We can stop it. It's our job, right? That's what they said."
"My job," Dean corrected. "And who gives a rat's ass what they say about that, anyway?" Sam smiled, and Dean cocked a brow up in question. "What?"
Sam shrugged. "We're gonna do it. We'll stop it. It's the job, Dean, different scale, but it's the same game. It's what we were made to do."
How far Sam had come from their first meeting in Stanford. He was practically a whole different person. Or maybe, Dean mused, maybe he was just exactly the same as he'd always been, and Dean was just seeing him differently. His own perspective had taken a hell of a turn over the years.
Dean rolled the window down, taking in a breath of fresh, cold air. "You sound like that douchebag back there." He bent his head back, letting out a sigh. "No, wait, you don't. You sound like dad." He snorted, sitting straight once again and shaking his head. "I used to wonder why you butted heads so much. The job, Sam? The way you were with Adam?" The narrow-minded focus on revenge no matter the self-destruction caused along the way? Dean's lips turned down. "Maybe I did act like dad, Sam, take the same taste in music, in clothes, but you- you're more like him than I ever was, aren't you? Maybe you always have been." He started the car, keep to get as much distance between the Sandover headquarters and them as possible.
"I'll take that as a compliment," Sam said, keeping his eyes on the road.
"Take it however the hell you want."
Dean flicked on the radio, ending the conversation.
† † †
||Tuesday March 31 2009, 14:03
||Somewhere in Madison
"As you can see, we have a variety of different metals and designs-"
"Yeah, yeah, any iron?"
The sales assistant raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Sorry, sir, no. No iron."
Adam bit back a groan of frustration. This jewellers was the last on the list in the immediate area around the university. "None? I read about this wrought iron jewellery- it's meant to be pretty durable- you don't have any of that? I just want a ring. Or a pendent. Anything, really." He didn't even know why. It wasn't like a small hunk of iron was ever going to come in handy against anything. Still, the thought of having it on him felt like it would be a comfort to him, and he'd get his hands on something one way or another, if only to settle his nerves.
"No- iron isn't typically used in high end jewellery. It rusts far too easily, looks rather garish after a short time. Wrought iron jewellery was more of a fashion taste back in the old days; it's a lot harder to find the authentic kind now. You're best off looking on the internet. I'm sorry, sir. If you're looking for a similar look, we have rings in silver, steel or platinum-"
"Yeah, that's nice and all, but it's not what I want," Adam said, cutting the clerk off. He paused, letting out an aggravated breath. "Look, I'm sorry- that was pretty rude of me. I just- really want a ring or pendent or something made out of iron, and it seems that no-one is willing to help me." He passed a hand through his hair. "You do commissions, right? Can I commission it?"
The assistant, still looking irritated from Adam's previous interruption stared him down. "I'm not aware of the shop making wrought iron jewellery, sir."
"Well can you check? Thanks." The assistant looked affronted, and Adam knew he was being rude, but he was fed up. The assistant was back five minutes later looking like he as putting on a valiant effort to be happy.
"Seems there is a supplier, you're in luck. We'll have to import from England, though- and imports added to crafting tend to be pretty pricey."
"How pricey are we talking?" That might have thrown a spanner into the works.
"At an estimate, anything from three hundred dollars upwards, sir."
Could he spare it? Adam thought it over.
Not really, no.
Would he spare it?
That was another matter all together.
† † †
||Saturday April 04 2009, 11:27
||Elizabeth Waters Hall, University of Wisconsin, Madison
"So what- you were planning on moving out without even telling me? What- you hoping I wouldn't see you were missing? And Barnard Hall? That's halfway across campus, what the hell, Adam?"
Dominic looked pissed. In hindsight, Adam could have planned this all better.
"Look, I just need my own space for a while-"
"Your own space? Bro, you have your own space. You barely talk to any of us anymore- you don't come out with any of us anymore- you're always here, or in- mythology- or the library. You told Imogen you were getting over it, but it doesn't look like it. Being by yourself all the time ain't gonna help you, man." He sounded frustrated. Adam knew the feeling.
Adam sighed. "I'll come back in a few weeks or... next semester, maybe. But I need the space, Dom." He gave a small smile. "And you need the sleep."
His nightmares hadn't been disturbing just him.
"That's not seriously the reason you're going into hiding, is it? I can live with a little less beauty sleep, Milligan, it's not like I need it. You on the other hand..."
Adam rolled his eyes. "Funny."
"Hilarious," Dominic smirked. The moment held, broke, and Dominic sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Well there's nothing I can do about it now, so go. But you owe me a pizza for this one, you asshole. You don't just cut and run on a brother. It's rude."
Adam smiled. "Gotcha." He shifted, one of his bags, turning to Dominic one last time. "We're all right, yeah? I was going to tell you, but..." he hadn't. There wasn't even an excuse.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, jerk. Extra large, chicken, pineapple and vegetable pizza and we're cool. Now get outta my room."
Adam grinned. "Thanks, man."
Dom flipped him the bird.
† † †
||Tuesday April 07 2009
The house sold for a hundred and nineteen thousand dollars. Cash.
† † †
||Sunday April 12 2009, 23:57
||Barnard Hall, University of Wisconsin, Madison
Adam's head lay nestled cushioned on a thick science tome. He slept.
† † †
||Sunday April 12 2009, 00:23
||Muir Woods, University of Wisconsin, Madison
Meet me in the woods at midnight, she'd said, just follow the trail to the clearing, I have a surprise for you. Romance clearly wasn't dead, but... there had been better ideas.
Richard Weir had reached the clearing on time. His girlfriend, Jenny, had been nowhere to be seen, and his cell phone was refusing to co-operate so he couldn't even call her. Truth be told, he was staring to get a little worried. The woods were creepy at night. It was just too dark. "Jenny? Come on, get out here, it's not funny anymore."
A twig snapped somewhere behind him, and he spun to face the noise.
"...Jenny?"
He could see the shadow of her silhouette as she slowly staggered out from behind a thicket."R-Richie..." She sounded like she had been crying. This was wrong.
"Jenny? What- what happened?" He rushed toward her, but not fast enough. She fell. She didn't get up.
"Jenny!" He grabbed her shoulders- why are they wet?- turned her round, and his eyes widened in horror as the moonlight caught her front. She was bleeding. From everywhere. "Jenny. Jenny, no- what- who? Oh God-"
"R-Richie," Jenny forced out, her voice a wet whisper, "run."
† † †
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End half of Sam and Dean's conversation in the latter part of the chapter was paraphrased from canon 4x19: Jump the Shark. And yeah, they were living through the episode It's a Wonderful Life, here.
The amount of time I spent researching it- the American schooling system is so complicated. Or maybe I'm just thick... which is always a real possibility, I suppose. On the plus side- the University of Wisconsin has a nice, easily navigated website! ...The sad thing is, not much of what I researched is even gonna make it into this fic. I just like complicating my life. Le sigh. If there are any major mistakes in accuracy when it comes to the university's degree info, do tell- I'll do my best to fix it. I think I nailed it, though. UW doesn't really offer a Mythology and Folklore class as far as my research shows- though it does offer a Folklore class on its own.
I understand this chapter will probably be considered pretty boring, but it was necessary. Things should speed up from here on out! I hope I haven't lost you all yet! See you guys next Wednesday~