Chapter Fifteen
Adam turned on to his side for the umpteenth time that night, trying to get into a comfortable position. He'd been up for hours trying to catch a wink of sleep – but he was failing miserably. Sam and Dean had both fallen asleep in their shared bed somewhere around midnight – it was now 3:47 according to the glow-in-the-dark display on the side table – but Adam wasn't as lucky as his brothers.
Muttering a curse under his breath, he kicked his blankets off himself, realizing he suddenly felt too hot. A moment later he pulled them back on, feeling cold. "What the fuck," he grumbled, turning his pillow over to the cool side and trying to ignore how it now smelled of his sweat.
He'd just been still for over three minutes when he found he couldn't breathe properly. His sinuses were blocked, apparently. Swearing vehemently, he turned on his side to clear up his airways – only to find the other side of his nose blocked. "Motherfuck!" he yelled in a whisper, trying to express his anger without waking his brothers up.
"You better wash your mouth out with soap."
Adam groaned. "Perfect. Just what I fucking need right now. Go the fuck away," he told Lucifer.
The fallen angel crossed his arms, leaning on the wall next to Adam's bed. His face wore a devilish grin. "I'm here to stay," he informed Adam. "I mean, I get so lonely when you're not around."
"I don't have time for this," Adam complained, throwing his pillow at Lucifer. "Just... come haunt me in the morning, okay? After my coffee."
"Nah, I think I'll stay," said Lucifer with a little shrug. "Everything's so much more fun at night, hm?"
"What's your problem, anyway?" Adam asked. "You spent millennia ripping me apart. Why can't you just, I don't know, go irritate someone else?"
"But who else can I talk to?" asked Lucifer innocently. "You're my hell-buddy, aren't you, Adam? We're even almost the same species."
"No we're not," Adam spat out.
"Right, right, I'm still an archangel, bla bla," Lucifer said, making talking gestures with his hands as he spoke. "But you – you're not human, Adam. And you're mistaken if you think so."
"What do you mean, I'm not human?" asked Adam, unconsciously tightening his grip on his blankets. "I'm perfectly human." Even as he said it he didn't believe it.
"You know you're not," Lucifer said calmly, no longer grinning. "You're a demon, bucko. Not the conventional type, I'll give you that – but you are so not human. Look at you, all getting stuck in devil's traps and stuff. It's a wonder how your brothers haven't killed you yet."
"They wouldn't," Adam said, feeling something lodge in his throat. "They wouldn't," he repeated, trying to convince himself as much as Lucifer. "We're family."
"That what they tell you?" Lucifer asked conversationally. "Just you wait, amigo – once they see you for what you really are, you're going to be on the top of their shit list."
"I'm not a demon," Adam said emphatically, closing his eyes and pulling the sheets over his head. "I'm not. I'm human."
"You're not and you know it," said Lucifer, his voice cruel and taunting. "Soon, Adam – you'll be just like any other demon. Black eyes, devil's traps... even Cristo and holy water. You'll be your brothers' prey, bub."
"I won't," Adam said, his heart beating wildly. It wasn't true, it wasn't, and it wouldn't happen. It wouldn't, because it simply couldn't. He couldn't be evil, he couldn't be a demon.
Right?
"Wrong," Lucifer said, and Adam could almost hear the grin in his voice. "Look at you, Adam. You're not pure, you're not even good. You can't help them. You're only creating more problems for them. They never wanted you. Your own father never wanted you."
Against his will, tears pooled in Adam's voice. "You're lying," he said thickly.
"I'm not," Lucifer told him, taking on a mock-sympathetic tone. "What I'm telling you is the cold, hard, naked truth, Adam. You're of no use to your brothers. They don't even love you. They don't love anyone outside of themselves. I'm actually surprised you didn't see that, bucko."
"It's not true," Adam got out through gritted teeth, tears running freely down his face. "It's not." His voice rose inadvertently.
"You're lying to yourself, Adam," Lucifer said cruelly. "Deep down you know you don't belong with them. You're not like them. You're not good or pure or even brave. You're a baby that's been dumped on their doorstep, someone they never wanted and who's an unwanted responsibility. They're going to ditch you the first chance they get."
"No, no, NO!" Adam screamed, covering his ears. "It's not true, it's not! You're LYING!"
Suddenly the sheets were ripped from him and he lashed out, thinking it was Lucifer. "No, GET AWAY FROM ME! LEAVE ME ALONE!" he screamed, his throat hurting from the volume of it. "I'M NOT, I'M NOT, YOU'RE LYING, THEY WON'T, THEY CAN'T, I'M NOT!"
"Adam, calm down!" Dean yelled over Adam's shouting. "It's just us! He's not here, Adam, he's not real!"
"NO, GO AWAY!" Adam roared, kicking out and catching Sam on the thigh. "STOP LYING TO ME, STOP, PLEASE, JUST STOP!"
"LISTEN TO ME!" bellowed Dean, grabbing Adam's arms and pinning him to the bed. "He is not here, kid! He's not real! Look at me!" He used one hand to turn Adam's tear-stained face towards his, forcing their eyes to meet. "I'm real! Sammy is real! This shitty motel room is real! Lucifer is not!"
"It's all right, Adam," Sam said, sitting down on Adam's side. "It's okay. You're all right. You're safe. We're here."
Adam struggled under Dean's grip. "He's lying, right?" he asked his brothers frantically. "I'm not evil, am I? I'm not a demon?"
Dean released the boy and he bolted upright, gasping and panting in great heaving breaths. A few more tears slipped down his face. His heart breaking for the boy, Dean grabbed his shoulders and gripped them tight, squeezing. "No," he said emphatically. "You're our brother. You're not evil, and you're not a demon. You're Adam Milligan, one of the bravest mofos alive today. Do you understand me?"
Adam didn't respond, instead looking down and letting out a sob. "Adam, listen to me," Sam said gently. "It's all in your head. Whatever he's saying, it's not true and never will be. He's preying on your worst fears and using them against you. It's what he does. But he will never be right, Adam."
"Don't you remember what Missouri said?" asked Dean, once again forcing Adam into looking at him. "For some damn unfathomable reason, you're going to be the best thing that's ever happened to me and Sam. Don't you forget that, Adam."
"But what if he's right?" Adam finally whispered, his voice breaking. "What if I'm going to become a demon?"
"You're not," Sam said firmly. "Missouri said it won't be a part of you forever. If there's anyone I know who can beat this, Adam, it's you. You survived millennia in the Cage. You're stronger than either Dean, or me. You won't become anything evil."
"How do you know?" asked Adam, his voice still low. "How can you be so sure?"
Sam smiled and said, "Because I know who you are."
"And who am I?" inquired Adam, looking earnestly at both his brothers, desperately needing reassurance.
"You're Adam Milligan, our little brother and one of the strongest people I know," Dean told him. "And also a major pain in my ass," he added with a grin.
Slowly, faltering, Adam grinned back, his expression uncertain. Sam smiled again and ran a hand over Adam's head, before bringing it to rest over Dean's on Adam's shoulder. "You're going to be fine, Adam," he told him. "You'll get through this. If you believe nothing else, believe this."
"Trust us," Dean said.
"I do," Adam answered, his voice not shaking anymore. "More than anything."
Dean stared at his tired face in the cracked, dirty bathroom mirror above the sink. It had taken an hour to get Adam back to sleep, after which Sam had dozed off too, but Dean had been unable to get his mind to shut off. Adam's hallucinations were getting worse, and if he was actually starting to believe them it wouldn't be long before he ended up sleepless in a psych ward. If they were going to do something, it had to be soon.
He splashed some water over and face and dried it with a paper towel before exiting the bathroom. Instead of heading over to bed, he walked over to the ratty couch in front of the TV. Maybe he could bore himself to sleep with bad soap operas.
But he couldn't concentrate even on the sobbing woman on TV. So her boyfriend had cheated on her with her best friend. Were these drama writers even trying to be original anymore? What happened to the good old days with the actually watchable shows? It broke Dean's heart. This crap was what the new generation was going to grow up on. God help them all.
Switching the TV off, Dean stood and looked at his brothers. Sam was fast asleep, curled on his side like always. Somewhere along the line he'd stopped sleeping on his back, stretched out on the bed. Now he preferred to ball himself up and try to become as small as possible, almost as if he was trying to be invisible. Some sort of unconscious defense mechanism. After all the crap they'd been through, Dean wasn't going to discount the possibility. But it broke his heart all the same. It was a reminder of how the innocent little boy from his childhood wasn't there anymore, leaving behind a bitter, broken and world-weary man.
Adam was snoring deeply again, and for that at least Dean was glad. Unlike Sam, it didn't take him long to recover from his hallucinations... and he slept a helluva lot deeper too. Dean had the impression that an earthquake could rip through the city and Adam would sleep through it.
Dean walked over to the bed and got in, sitting with his back against the wardrobe. He took a moment to run a hand through Sam's hair, before crossing his arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling above.
It was a tough call ahead, he knew. Sam's trials and Adam's hallucinations... and there was a healthy chance that neither of them would make it. It was a depressing train of thought, one that Dean normally tried to avoid like the plague, but on this cool, breezy night in Lawrence, Kansas, he found he couldn't.
Lawrence. Where it had all started, where Mary had made her deal and her parents had died and Sam had been fed demon blood with his mother burning on the ceiling. Where their neighbors had been killed while babysitting them, just for Sam. Where their lives had both begun and end. In the end it was always Lawrence that was the center, Lawrence where they always ended up.
Dean remembered Sam's suggestion to go visit Jenny and the kids, and he frowned. He wasn't going to lie, it would be nice to see her again, see how they were doing. But he wasn't sure he wanted to return to the house he'd once sworn never to go back to, to relive his memories of his mother's death, and of her spirit sacrificing itself for her boys. There was enough pain in his life without needing any extra.
But he knew it would make Sam happy for Adam to see it. He wanted Adam to know where Dean's best memories were, to see what it could have been like had it not been for Azazel. He wanted to share that part of their lives with Adam, that part of their history, and truth be told Dean didn't see anything wrong with that.
He just didn't want to be a part of it.
It was selfish, but he couldn't help. He didn't want to go back and face his memories head-on once again. He couldn't do that to himself.
But it would make his little brothers happy. And after all, wasn't that what he breathed for?
Out of pure frustration, he punched the headboard, forgetting for a moment that he was sharing the bed with Sam. The kid bolted upright and looked around wildly, his hand flying to the knife under the pillow.
"It's all right, kiddo," Dean said hastily before Adam woke up. "It's just me. Sorry."
Sam relaxed and then narrowed his eyes at Dean. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Sammy," Dean answered. "Go back to sleep, kid."
"Something's bothering you," Sam observed, regarding Dean carefully. When Dean didn't answer, he frowned and stuck his bottom lip out slightly – his thinking face. "We don't have to go back," he said finally, and Dean mentally applauded him for being able to read him like a book. "It's your choice, Dean. It's up to you."
"No, we'll go," Dean said, making up his mind in a split second. "Small Fry should see it, get to know that part of our lives."
"Are you sure?" asked Sam, lying back down. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."
"No, it's all right," said Dean with false confidence. "I'll be fine, right, Sammy?"
"If you say so," Sam said dubiously. "'S up to you."
Dean offered him a fake smile and buried his hand in his brother's hair. "Go back to sleep, kiddo. You're wiped out."
Sam nodded and yawned, before squirming under the covers. "'Night, Dean," he murmured, closing his eyes and shifting so that he leaned further into Dean's hand. "You sleep too, okay?"
Dean decided to agree with his brother for once, feeling drowsiness begin to finally creep up on him. "Sure, Sammy," he said, lying down. "Whatever you say."
Sam fell asleep with a small smile on his face, and if he was being honest to himself, it was all Dean ever needed. Everything on the planet was worth that smile.
It was the amulet that woke him three hours later, at 5:40. It had burnt a hole through his shirt and was even now digging into his skin. As fast as he could, Dean sat up and ripped it off his neck, gingerly touching the angry red welt it left in its place. "What the hell?" he muttered to himself, wincing at the spike of pain.
He held it up by the leather chain and squinted at it in the dim moonlight. Even though it was at least a foot away from his face, he could feel the waves of heat radiating off it. "What's going on with you?" he asked it, realizing how silly it sounded. He was talking to a trinket. A red-hot, angry-looking trinket.
"Am I dreaming?" he next wondered, shaking the amulet to see if it would make any difference. It didn't. The little face remained furious.
"Okay," Dean muttered. "Even if you are capable of being angry, who you angry at, huh? Me? Why, what'd I do? The hell did you burn me for?"
Predictably, the amulet didn't reply. "So what, you're angry at me for throwing you away?" Dean asked it. "Okay, I'm sorry, all right? I was pissed and upset, and I wasn't thinking. Am I forgiven?"
The amulet didn't reply. For a short moment Dean wondered how crazy he was going.
"Well, if I am, can you do me a favor and stop burning me from my sleep? I get too less of it as it is. I don't really appreciate being woken up, 'kay?"
Suddenly he blinked and brought the amulet closer towards his face. It had changed... again. Now it looked almost as if it was – amused. Dean could have sworn the thing was laughing at him.
"What're you laughing at, huh?" he demanded shortly. "It ain't funny. Nothing's funny. In fact this is very very fucked up, okay? I'm talking to a frigging necklace."
The face twisted further, and now there was no doubt – the damn thing was laughing at him. "You stop that," Dean told it. "You quit it right now, you hear me? This isn't funny. I don't find this funny. And how are you alive, anyway? You're just a trinket. You've been nothing but an amulet for over twenty years. The hell is your deal now, huh?"
Of course it didn't answer, but that didn't deter Dean. "You stop that, you hear me?" he said, shaking it. Again the bronze shifted, and the amulet's face shifted into an irritated expression. "What's that, you don't like it when I do that?" asked Dean, giving it a little shake again. "Well, I don't like it when you burn me, okay? So here's the deal – you stop burning me, and I'll stop shaking you. Else I chuck you right back in the bin."
If it could have spoken, it would have scoffed – that much was clear from its scornful expression. "You're right," Dean sighed. "It would break Sam's heart... again. I can't do that to him, you know? There's been too much hurt these past few years. It's got to stop. He's my baby brother. I don't want him to hurt anymore."
He was spilling his guts to the damn necklace. Oh, how the mighty (and the relatively sane) fell. And what was stranger, the amulet was responding. It looked sympathetic.
"You're such a weird little guy," Dean told it, giving it an experimental poke. It was back to room temperature now. "What'd you wake me up for anyway? Weirdass thing."
The eyebrows went slightly higher. "What, did I hurt your feelings? I apologize," scoffed Dean. "But you need to stop waking me up. Can you talk?"
The amulet raised a single eyebrow this time. "What the fuck is this?" Dean muttered as the bizarreness of the situation returned to him. He was talking to his amulet. And it was responding. Maybe he should drive himself to a psych ward before he began conversing with his knives and guns.
"Okay, you know what?" he told the amulet. "I'm just going to go back to sleep, all right? I'm crazy. This is probably some dream." He knew even as he said it that it wasn't. "I'm putting you back on," he informed it. "If you burn me I will melt you into bullets, and I will not regret it one bit at all. And if Sam asks, I'll tell him what a little bitch you were being. Is that clear?"
The bronze shifted to a resigned expression. "Good," said Dean smugly, before slipping it back around his neck. "'Night, little guy," he muttered, before giving himself a mental slap. "Stupid," he said to himself. "Insane. Shut up, Dean. Go to sleep."
When he looked at it again in the morning, it was back to normal. Had it all been a dream?
The welt on his chest told him otherwise.
What the actual fuck?
No, I swear, I am not on crack. This has got something to do with the story, I swear.
Really.
So yeah, I realize this update is late. My cousins left yesterday after a week, after which I visited a university I've been considering. Then I slept for hours. I need to fix my sleep schedule.
It's 3 fucking AM right now. Dammit I need to fix this shit before I go wonky.
Speaking of - What's the longest you've slept, ever?
In my case it was 18 damn hours. I was so wiped out I slept like a baby. It's a record in my family, and I am so proud of myself. I need to sort out my priorities.
Okay, I got a survey for you guys this time:
1. Favorite part about the story?
2. Least favorite part about the story?
3. Do you think I'm doing a good job with Adam?
4. Would you stick with this story until the end?
5. How much would you rate it on a scale of Twilight to Harry Potter?
Answer in the reviews, hm?
Oh, by the way, have any of y'all got a tumblr? You probably do. Mine's remymckwakker dot tumblr dot com. Tell me yours, I'd like to follow you guys :D
Review, eh, peasants? It makes my day. Also - a warm welcome to my new readers *cough* I mean peasants, and I'd like to send out a public service message - DO NOT WATCH SEASON 4 WHILE EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED. I just did, and guess how many times I had to tape my heart back together? Closest guess gets a vanilla ice cream and Krispy Kremes :D
Also - 4x19 - Jump the Shark. ADAM! *wails* HE WAS JUST 18! ANDAND SAM WAS LOOKING AFTER HIM SO WELL AND THEY WERE BOTH SO PROTECTIVE AND DAMMIT WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE A GHOUL WHY DID ADAM HAVE TO BE EATEN THIS IS SERIOUSLY KILLING ME OKAY I AM SUFFERING HERE SOMEONE GIVE ME SOME DAMN NUTELLA OR SOMETHING.
ADAM MY BBY *goes back to wailing*
Thanks to RHatch89, Bookluver34567, Lia Whyteleafe, agent iz hyper, SPNxBookworm, samgirl19, nupinoop296, CBloom2 and angeleyenc for reviewing :) Love you guys :D *gives out hugs and tomatoes*
Please do review, dear ones, and I'll see you next chapter :D
Czar out.
-Peace x