(no subject)
Title: A Wolf With A Taste For Comics
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence, cursing
Pairing and/or Characters: Adam/Michael, also featuring Dean and Sam
Word Count: approx. 4000
Summary: Dean, Sam and Adam stop over outside a little town on their way to their next hunt. It's nothing to write home about, or so it seems. But everything goes wrong when Adam can't bear to be 'guard dog' anymore, and wanders off on his own.
Author Notes: Written for _bluebells who wrote me amazing Ianpala porn in exchange for "Michael/Adam werewolves". I hope this is what you wanted and I am so sorry it took so long!
Adam rolled in the sandy dirt that made up the floor of the cave, bored. His back itched and while he could always change and scratch, it took effort and it was more fun just to roll. He could change, scratch, and then change back, but he didn’t feel like it, and Dean had this rule that when on two legs, they have to wear pants, alone or not. Adam supposed it was a good rule, but he couldn’t be bothered to go find any pants at that moment, so the dirt will do. Nothing wrong with dirt.
Really, he should have been out there, with his brothers. The nearest town was in the next valley over, Adam could smell the scent of the diner when the wind blew right and it made him hungry. He wanted to go that morning, begged even, but the others wouldn’t let him. He maintained was just as strong, just as savvy as them, he can take of himself, like them. But Dean always rolls his eyes when he half-heartedly agrees. He always made Adam stay though, on ‘guard duty’. He shouted after them that he wasn’t a guard dog either, but the older two are sliding down the hill-side towards where Dean hid the car and if they heard him, they ignored him.
They could have just as easily run into town, it wouldn’t take long, but they needed supplies and they aren’t known in these parts. Strangers arriving without a car, miles from anywhere was going to earn raised eyebrows. And they always keep a low profile. Hunters are one thing, werewolves another. Best not to have anyone sniffing around.
Adams ears twitched then. There was no danger any human was just going to wander up the mountainside and go through their gear. And other animals know to stay away from anything that smelt like werewolf. There was no reason he couldn’t go over to town himself.
The run into town was almost boring. Tree, tree, tree, smell of skunk, tree, tree, tree, stream, tree. Not much to it, and even with the bag in his mouth holding his clothes, he made it in just over an hour, following his nose. Everything smells faintly of human wherever you go, but the stronger concentrations are the ones to aim for. He changed at the tree-line, dressing as he watched the town, and then hoisted the backpack over his shoulder. In a town this size it was almost certain he’d meet up with his brothers and Dean would freak out, but he’d done it before and he’d do it again, they all knew it. They just let Dean bitch and whine until he ran out of steam, because it’ll mean Adam could hitch a lift the car on the way back.
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But he doesn’t meet up with Dean. He doesn’t meet up with Sam. He doesn’t even catch a whiff of them because the second he hits the main street of town, he sees it. Yeah, it looks just like a regular book shop, and he knows it probably is, but there’s a Hulk cardboard cut-out in the window. Which meant comics. And since the last time he hit a comic shop was over two months ago, back in Chicago, he deserved to splash out. Dean and Sam would have bought Beer (which Dean insisted was part of their necessary supplies, not a luxury) so Adam could and should have comics. It was logical.
There wasn’t just a little rotating stand of out of date Spiderman though, which was what he’d expected. There’s a whole back wall and Adam was there for hours. There was old, classic stuff, the sort of comic books his mom used to buy him for a quarter whenever she could. And there was new stuff too, anthologies and hard-backs and a few previews and the guy behind the desk seemed happy enough to let Adam flick through, even read them, busy as he was eating candy and flicking though something over at the counter, making idle talk every now and again.
It was late afternoon by the time the guy called out to him. He had to close up; did Adam want to buy anything? Adam jumped, nodding once he’d relaxed again, a little embarrassed that he’d been there so long. He was suddenly worried too. Dean and Sam would have gone back to the cave by now, realised their baby brother was nowhere to be seen and be heading back to search for him. There was nothing he could do about that though, grabbing the small pile of comics he just couldn’t leave without, paying for them and carefully stashing them in his bag. His receipt said it was 5:30pm, or there abouts. Sam and Dean were probably ready to tear him a new one, but he’d be stupid to go back to the cave when they’d be driving back into town. They’d just keep missing each other and when they eventually found each other in the morning everyone would be worried and pissed off.
“I’d get back home before it gets dark, if I were you.” The guy said as he turns off the radio on the counter and turns the key in the register. “It’s best not to stick around after dark.” And before Adam can react, he’d slipped into the door marked “Staff Only” and left Adam alone.
He let himself out and the little bell above the door sounded sort of shrill, almost unreal as it rang. Outside, everything was still. There weren’t any cars; the only people are other shop keepers closing up. It was weird and but small towns were are like that, Adam knew from experience, and weird was practically his middle name. There was no sign of the Impala yet, or either of his brothers, but he wasn’t about to sit on the kerb and wait for them to turn up. He could still smell the diner, and he was hungry.
Diner milkshakes and burgers were the best in the world. Better than McDonalds, hell, better than any fancy restaurant food he’d ever had. There was just something about them that Adam loved. He made his way through three cheese burgers while the waitress, her greying hair pulled back in a net, laughed and got him another drink. “On the house, sweetie. You need some meat on your bones.” She told him, and Adam had the presence of mind to swallow his mouthful and wipe his face on his sleeve before he said thank you.
He expected Dean to burst through the doors at any time after that, once the woman had gone off to deal with her other customers; some couple his age and an older guy in a suit. The light was beginning to fade, and Adam had really expected to at least see his brothers by now. But they weren’t there. It was like they’d dropped off the face of the planet, and his attention moved from the other customers to the window, watching through the blinds for the sleek black car that would contain two very annoyed Winchesters.
It doesn’t appear though, and for the second time that day he almost jumps out of his skin when the waitress comes back. “Got anywhere to stay, pumpkin?” She asks, and for some reason it was at that moment all of his mother’s advice about strangers floods back to him.
“Yes Ma’am.” He replied, and she at least seemed satisfied with that.
“I’d head back there now then. Night comes on quick around here.” Why it was so important for him to get back before dark he didn’t know, it was like something out of a stupid fairy-tale, although Sam would have told him never to ignore local legends. There was always something behind it. There was probably something creepy eating local kids. Something crawled out of a lake and dragged people in. Not that the people were panicking much about it. It seemed just to be a fact of life. You went home, you locked all the doors and shuttered the windows. And in the morning, you picked up the pieces of anyone unlucky enough not to get home in time.
The truth was, they weren’t even here for a hunt. This was just a stop-off point for a couple of days, a chance to rest up before heading further south. Why they hadn’t heard about whatever was here, Adam didn’t know. Maybe that was what Dean and Sam were doing, why they hadn’t turned up yet. They’d stumbled onto a hunt they’d not heard about before and they hadn’t even been back to the cave yet. Which meant Adam only had to hang around and wait for them.
He was used to sleeping outside. He probably wasn’t even going to get to sleep. The Impala would roll into town any moment and that would be it, adventure over. Dean would even be pleased, still buzzed from the hunt and the opportunity to really get his teeth into something. He’d wave Adam into the car, and drive them back, crack open some beers and eventually they’d pass out having listened to Dean tell the story every which way.
The town really was deserted by now, black and white and sudden Adam felt like he’d stepped into Pleasantville or something strange like that. But the comics in his bag were still reassuringly Technicolor, and he lent back against a lamppost to read, fastening his jacket at the sky faded from blue to purple to navy, pricked with stars.
“Where the hell are they?” He found himself saying, shivering as the wind picked up. This was not a place he wanted to be, alone, at night. If he had to, he’d change, and run back to the cave and wait for his brothers there. He wasn’t spooked, not really, he just felt unnerved. A little bit alone. He’d not seen his brothers, his family, for hours now and while that shouldn’t have worried him, it did.
He swallowed, and got to his feet. Another of Dean’s stupid rules was that they didn’t change near people and they didn’t wander through town on all fours unless it was life-or-death. This wasn’t it. And if the local TV stations started showing grainy photographs of a wolf carrying a rucksack full of Iron Man comics, Dean would never, ever let him live it down.
So he walked. The main street hadn’t seemed all that long that morning, but now it did. It was dark, cold, and empty, and something was wrong. He could feel it, the hair on the back of his neck starting to raise, goosebumps prickling over his flesh, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest. He was attempting to tell himself there was nothing out there, nothing that could do him harm. He was a werewolf! What did werewolves have to be afraid of? He was just scaring himself for no reason.
Although for a town surrounded by woods and wildlife, the absence of any noise at all should have really hinted that-
And there it was. A scream, a wailing twisted pained noise that went right through Adam and froze his feet to the asphalt. He didn’t smell anything, but when in human form, his sense of smell wasn’t any better than a human’s, and they couldn’t smell anything until they were on top of it. But that noise, fuck, that noise was getting closer, and Adam couldn’t turn around fast enough.
There was nothing there. Nothing on the long stretch of road behind him, nothing in the alley-way between two shops, nothing. It was out in the woods. He was safe but he had to move. Or find somewhere to hide.
There were houses, right down at the end of the street. They’d let him in.
His pace was quicker than before. And getting quicker, becoming a jog as the wail grew to a new, higher pitch. There was only so much his brain could take before it melted out of his ears, he guessed, but he didn’t want to be around for when that happened.
And just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.
And so did Adam, standing still on the long stretch of road and beginning to wonder if he’d dreamt the whole thing, if it had never really happened at all. All was silent, just as it had been, not a rustle of wind, not a roar of an engine, no laughter or music from anywhere-
It was the stupidest thing he’d ever done, just stood there like a target. The only living, breathing thing in the whole town that was exposed, a sitting duck and why did he only realise that once talons had ripped into his back, forcing him onto the ground as the screeching sound began again, heavy leathery wings beating at the ground. What the fuck the thing was Adam didn’t know, knocked silly for too long a moment before he started to react. His brothers would have been ashamed.
The talons, claws, whatever they were pulled back as the creature felt the muscle and bones shift- but not far, not far enough, Adam’s jaw clamping down on whatever limb he could, the stench of his own blood filling his nose, mingling with the stink of something else, something mouldy and old and disgusting. He wanted to let go, wanted to clean the taste from his tongue but couldn’t, he had to bite down harder, he had to make the thing go, to leave. He had to get away.
He rolled, tugging the thing with him, expecting some sort of weight to press against him, but nothing like the bulk that forced all the air from his lungs, forced him to let go and gasp for air. He felt his bones creak, ribs flattening and a ringing starting in his ears, a ringing roaring sound of his own blood speeding through his body, his heart almost bursting. It had taken this thing all of five minutes, just five minutes to get the better of him, and shit, if there was enough to bury him they might as well put on his tombstone that the thing had sat on him and squashed him to death.
And then, amongst all the organic noises, the hisses of pain and the creatures growling belly, there was a highly inorganic sound. But a sound he’d heard enough. It was the cocking of a gun. A shot gun. Adam felt his body slump, bones shifting and trying to re-knit as he changed again. “Dean?” He croaked out, pain escaping in the word, but there was no answer. Not from his brother at least.
There was the unmistakable sound of the gun going off, the sound loud and close and he could smell the burning. Salt rounds. But then, sudden and crushing the rest of the air out of him, the thing collapsed, all putrid smelling flesh and swollen limbs and wings and scales and fuck, whatever it was, he never, ever, wanted to see one of them again. The weight was lifted then, or rather, kicked away by a large booted foot. That, and the muzzle of the shot gun were as much as he could focus on.
“And give me a good reason why I shouldn’t do the same to you, wolf?” A deep voice said, and Adam blinked groaning as he forced himself to put together the features- handsome, dark haired. “Why are you here?” The voice pressed again, not satisfied with a groan for an answer.
“Comics.” Adam managed, and then it all went black.
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It didn’t take long for werewolf bones to knit back together, two or three days at most to reform almost as strong as they had been before, and this wasn’t the first time Adam had broken bones. It was, however, the first time he’d healed while lying in an actual bed, in an actual house, with clean, new bandages wrapped around his back and a bowl of chicken soup steaming away on the bedside table. Normally Dean and Sam just patched him up with whatever they had to hand in the back of the Impala or in some crumby motel room or, one memorable time, in the toilets at a gas station, and the owner had banged on the door when he’d heard Adam groaning and told them to get the fuck off of his property.
And despite the pain that seemed to originate from every single joint in his body, Adam sort of liked the place. It was a home. A well looked after one and he hadn’t stayed in a house since his mother had-
He didn’t need to think about that. He just needed to get better. It was dark outside, the curtains still open and the moon seemed to peer in at him. He’d been here what, a day then? Two, maybe? He knew he had to get out before the guy who’d brought him home decided that a comic-book reading werewolf was still a werewolf at heart, and therefore a menace to society that needed to be destroyed. That was part of the reason he’d not touched the chicken soup. As good as it smelt, he wasn’t completely sure he could trust it.
“I’m not about to poison you.”
Adam glanced up, as best as he could from his position on the bed; the figure in the doorway tall, solid looking and while Adam was sure that normally, he could have forced his way out, right now he doubted he could move without help. Not while every part of him ached like this.
“Poison would only slow you down. Then you’d be back, someone else’s problem, but that’s not how we work, is it Adam?” He said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He smelt good, like soap and salt and wood and Adam liked that. He never got handsome nurses, even when Dean had to fight off attractive people with a stick.
“Wait.” Adam managed, frowning and unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth, “How do you know my name?”
The man laughed then, and nodded towards the rucksack set on the chair in the corner. “Your name’s inside it. Adam Milligan.”
And shit. That was more embarrassing than having a handsome stranger, another hunter, carry him back here, that was more embarrassing that being naked while said handsome stranger bandaged him up. He was fighting the blush that threatened his cheeks, but considering the man’s disarming smile, Adam guessed he’d lost that fight too.
“Yeah, well...” He began, and then shot an accusatory look at the guy. “I don’t know your name though.”
The other hunter laughed at that, and shrugged, as if that was the truth and giving his own up was only fair. “Michael. Michael Milton.”
“Nice to meet you. I’ll be out of your hair soon. Once-“ He began, trying to sit up and his face quickly becoming a mask of pain. Michael’s hand was on his shoulder, stopping him from moving anymore and then the man was shifting, pulling Adam’s pillows up and behind his back, letting the young man lean back into them with a noise that was almost a sigh of pleasure.
It might have been. That touch felt like fire, swamping his body and turning his insides to jello, a stupid smile appearing on his face. “Thanks. But I still-” He said, and then stopped, because Michael’s hand hadn’t left his shoulder yet.
It was peeled away, slowly, or so it felt, Adam’s heart hammering again and while he couldn’t really smell it, he was sure there was a faint hint of something in the air. Desire. Maybe it wasn’t just Adam’s sudden rush of hormones, maybe it was something Michael had felt too, why he hadn’t pulled his hand away. Maybe...
The god-almighty crash was unexpected and unwelcome, but before Adam could think Michael was up, pulling a handgun from the waistband of his jeans and disappearing out of the door. It was a second later that Adam managed to get himself up, legs almost buckling under his own weight as he tried to follow the sound of Michael’s footsteps, then the sound of wood suddenly splintering, a muffled shout, a curse, and a gun shot. Those sounds in such quick succession made Adam forget all about his fragile bones and his carefully bandaged shoulders and he ran, as fast as he could, down the stairs, almost tripping and falling as he went. But he didn’t fall.
Although he almost threw up when he saw the brown-coated wolf standing over Michael, its jaws around his arm, the jacket sleeve bloody and the handgun dropped, out of reach, under the hall table. The slim glass panel on the left of the front door was smashed, by the bullet Adam guessed, and Sam was just standing there, own gun in hand.
“Fucking stop it!” Adam managed, shouting and not realising how hoarse he sounded. “Dean!” He had to shout again, almost tumbling down the last few steps, bodily forcing himself into his brother. It was the speed of the impact and the surprise that crossed the wolf’s face that seemed to make him move, as Adam had no strength of his own and no real desire to hurt Dean. But he got Michael away from the snapping jaws, he heard the man moving and reaching for the gun as his body began to fold up, reaching out and touching Michael’s arm. He only felt the bloodied jacket brush against his finger tips before the back of his head hit the floor, and he was out again, like a light.
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This time it was light outside when he managed to get his eyes open. They felt gritty, dirty, like he’d been crying in his sleep but Adam didn’t cry. Not that anyone knew about. There was a weight on the bed again, comforting almost, and he found himself looking Michael again. A shirtless Michael, none the less, with one of Sam’s carefully tied bandages on his arm and more of his brother’s handiwork in the form of stitches across his cheek.
“Are you-“ Adam began, wanting to sit up but Michael seemed to sense that, already pressing the flat of his hand against the werewolf’s chest.
“I am fine. It’s you that’s had us all worried. Your brother said three days, tops, for you to heal up. And you’ve been sleeping up here a week now.”
Adam didn’t fight the hand holding him down then, slumping back into the pillows and blinking disbelievingly up at his host. A week. A week was a long time to be settled in one place, far too long for them and that was why his brother’s weren’t there. They’d have gone on, moved onto a near-by hunt with the intention to swing back and pick him up. But they wouldn’t. He was too small and difficult and they always left him in the car or in the motel or where they were holed up.
They had abandoned him. It meant they had to acknowledge that Michael was going to do him no harm, but they’d abandoned him just the same. They’d never really included him as part of their pack anyway, it had always just been Sam and Dean to them, but the truth hurts more than he’d ever thought anything could. It ached more than his shoulders and more than his ribs and more than his legs, which still felt like they were on fire.
It must have showed on his face, somehow, because Michael’s fingers are gently touching his jaw, stroking a line up his cheek, trying to prompt a smile, trying to make Adam lift up his heavy head. “They’re out in the woods. Trying to find out what brings out the monsters every night. Your brothers aren’t very good at sitting still, are they?”
That at least made Adam smile. His brother’s couldn’t sit still, not even for a moment. “So... I guess we’re staying here a while longer?”
“As long as you like."
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence, cursing
Pairing and/or Characters: Adam/Michael, also featuring Dean and Sam
Word Count: approx. 4000
Summary: Dean, Sam and Adam stop over outside a little town on their way to their next hunt. It's nothing to write home about, or so it seems. But everything goes wrong when Adam can't bear to be 'guard dog' anymore, and wanders off on his own.
Author Notes: Written for _bluebells who wrote me amazing Ianpala porn in exchange for "Michael/Adam werewolves". I hope this is what you wanted and I am so sorry it took so long!
Adam rolled in the sandy dirt that made up the floor of the cave, bored. His back itched and while he could always change and scratch, it took effort and it was more fun just to roll. He could change, scratch, and then change back, but he didn’t feel like it, and Dean had this rule that when on two legs, they have to wear pants, alone or not. Adam supposed it was a good rule, but he couldn’t be bothered to go find any pants at that moment, so the dirt will do. Nothing wrong with dirt.
Really, he should have been out there, with his brothers. The nearest town was in the next valley over, Adam could smell the scent of the diner when the wind blew right and it made him hungry. He wanted to go that morning, begged even, but the others wouldn’t let him. He maintained was just as strong, just as savvy as them, he can take of himself, like them. But Dean always rolls his eyes when he half-heartedly agrees. He always made Adam stay though, on ‘guard duty’. He shouted after them that he wasn’t a guard dog either, but the older two are sliding down the hill-side towards where Dean hid the car and if they heard him, they ignored him.
They could have just as easily run into town, it wouldn’t take long, but they needed supplies and they aren’t known in these parts. Strangers arriving without a car, miles from anywhere was going to earn raised eyebrows. And they always keep a low profile. Hunters are one thing, werewolves another. Best not to have anyone sniffing around.
Adams ears twitched then. There was no danger any human was just going to wander up the mountainside and go through their gear. And other animals know to stay away from anything that smelt like werewolf. There was no reason he couldn’t go over to town himself.
The run into town was almost boring. Tree, tree, tree, smell of skunk, tree, tree, tree, stream, tree. Not much to it, and even with the bag in his mouth holding his clothes, he made it in just over an hour, following his nose. Everything smells faintly of human wherever you go, but the stronger concentrations are the ones to aim for. He changed at the tree-line, dressing as he watched the town, and then hoisted the backpack over his shoulder. In a town this size it was almost certain he’d meet up with his brothers and Dean would freak out, but he’d done it before and he’d do it again, they all knew it. They just let Dean bitch and whine until he ran out of steam, because it’ll mean Adam could hitch a lift the car on the way back.
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But he doesn’t meet up with Dean. He doesn’t meet up with Sam. He doesn’t even catch a whiff of them because the second he hits the main street of town, he sees it. Yeah, it looks just like a regular book shop, and he knows it probably is, but there’s a Hulk cardboard cut-out in the window. Which meant comics. And since the last time he hit a comic shop was over two months ago, back in Chicago, he deserved to splash out. Dean and Sam would have bought Beer (which Dean insisted was part of their necessary supplies, not a luxury) so Adam could and should have comics. It was logical.
There wasn’t just a little rotating stand of out of date Spiderman though, which was what he’d expected. There’s a whole back wall and Adam was there for hours. There was old, classic stuff, the sort of comic books his mom used to buy him for a quarter whenever she could. And there was new stuff too, anthologies and hard-backs and a few previews and the guy behind the desk seemed happy enough to let Adam flick through, even read them, busy as he was eating candy and flicking though something over at the counter, making idle talk every now and again.
It was late afternoon by the time the guy called out to him. He had to close up; did Adam want to buy anything? Adam jumped, nodding once he’d relaxed again, a little embarrassed that he’d been there so long. He was suddenly worried too. Dean and Sam would have gone back to the cave by now, realised their baby brother was nowhere to be seen and be heading back to search for him. There was nothing he could do about that though, grabbing the small pile of comics he just couldn’t leave without, paying for them and carefully stashing them in his bag. His receipt said it was 5:30pm, or there abouts. Sam and Dean were probably ready to tear him a new one, but he’d be stupid to go back to the cave when they’d be driving back into town. They’d just keep missing each other and when they eventually found each other in the morning everyone would be worried and pissed off.
“I’d get back home before it gets dark, if I were you.” The guy said as he turns off the radio on the counter and turns the key in the register. “It’s best not to stick around after dark.” And before Adam can react, he’d slipped into the door marked “Staff Only” and left Adam alone.
He let himself out and the little bell above the door sounded sort of shrill, almost unreal as it rang. Outside, everything was still. There weren’t any cars; the only people are other shop keepers closing up. It was weird and but small towns were are like that, Adam knew from experience, and weird was practically his middle name. There was no sign of the Impala yet, or either of his brothers, but he wasn’t about to sit on the kerb and wait for them to turn up. He could still smell the diner, and he was hungry.
Diner milkshakes and burgers were the best in the world. Better than McDonalds, hell, better than any fancy restaurant food he’d ever had. There was just something about them that Adam loved. He made his way through three cheese burgers while the waitress, her greying hair pulled back in a net, laughed and got him another drink. “On the house, sweetie. You need some meat on your bones.” She told him, and Adam had the presence of mind to swallow his mouthful and wipe his face on his sleeve before he said thank you.
He expected Dean to burst through the doors at any time after that, once the woman had gone off to deal with her other customers; some couple his age and an older guy in a suit. The light was beginning to fade, and Adam had really expected to at least see his brothers by now. But they weren’t there. It was like they’d dropped off the face of the planet, and his attention moved from the other customers to the window, watching through the blinds for the sleek black car that would contain two very annoyed Winchesters.
It doesn’t appear though, and for the second time that day he almost jumps out of his skin when the waitress comes back. “Got anywhere to stay, pumpkin?” She asks, and for some reason it was at that moment all of his mother’s advice about strangers floods back to him.
“Yes Ma’am.” He replied, and she at least seemed satisfied with that.
“I’d head back there now then. Night comes on quick around here.” Why it was so important for him to get back before dark he didn’t know, it was like something out of a stupid fairy-tale, although Sam would have told him never to ignore local legends. There was always something behind it. There was probably something creepy eating local kids. Something crawled out of a lake and dragged people in. Not that the people were panicking much about it. It seemed just to be a fact of life. You went home, you locked all the doors and shuttered the windows. And in the morning, you picked up the pieces of anyone unlucky enough not to get home in time.
The truth was, they weren’t even here for a hunt. This was just a stop-off point for a couple of days, a chance to rest up before heading further south. Why they hadn’t heard about whatever was here, Adam didn’t know. Maybe that was what Dean and Sam were doing, why they hadn’t turned up yet. They’d stumbled onto a hunt they’d not heard about before and they hadn’t even been back to the cave yet. Which meant Adam only had to hang around and wait for them.
He was used to sleeping outside. He probably wasn’t even going to get to sleep. The Impala would roll into town any moment and that would be it, adventure over. Dean would even be pleased, still buzzed from the hunt and the opportunity to really get his teeth into something. He’d wave Adam into the car, and drive them back, crack open some beers and eventually they’d pass out having listened to Dean tell the story every which way.
The town really was deserted by now, black and white and sudden Adam felt like he’d stepped into Pleasantville or something strange like that. But the comics in his bag were still reassuringly Technicolor, and he lent back against a lamppost to read, fastening his jacket at the sky faded from blue to purple to navy, pricked with stars.
“Where the hell are they?” He found himself saying, shivering as the wind picked up. This was not a place he wanted to be, alone, at night. If he had to, he’d change, and run back to the cave and wait for his brothers there. He wasn’t spooked, not really, he just felt unnerved. A little bit alone. He’d not seen his brothers, his family, for hours now and while that shouldn’t have worried him, it did.
He swallowed, and got to his feet. Another of Dean’s stupid rules was that they didn’t change near people and they didn’t wander through town on all fours unless it was life-or-death. This wasn’t it. And if the local TV stations started showing grainy photographs of a wolf carrying a rucksack full of Iron Man comics, Dean would never, ever let him live it down.
So he walked. The main street hadn’t seemed all that long that morning, but now it did. It was dark, cold, and empty, and something was wrong. He could feel it, the hair on the back of his neck starting to raise, goosebumps prickling over his flesh, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest. He was attempting to tell himself there was nothing out there, nothing that could do him harm. He was a werewolf! What did werewolves have to be afraid of? He was just scaring himself for no reason.
Although for a town surrounded by woods and wildlife, the absence of any noise at all should have really hinted that-
And there it was. A scream, a wailing twisted pained noise that went right through Adam and froze his feet to the asphalt. He didn’t smell anything, but when in human form, his sense of smell wasn’t any better than a human’s, and they couldn’t smell anything until they were on top of it. But that noise, fuck, that noise was getting closer, and Adam couldn’t turn around fast enough.
There was nothing there. Nothing on the long stretch of road behind him, nothing in the alley-way between two shops, nothing. It was out in the woods. He was safe but he had to move. Or find somewhere to hide.
There were houses, right down at the end of the street. They’d let him in.
His pace was quicker than before. And getting quicker, becoming a jog as the wail grew to a new, higher pitch. There was only so much his brain could take before it melted out of his ears, he guessed, but he didn’t want to be around for when that happened.
And just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.
And so did Adam, standing still on the long stretch of road and beginning to wonder if he’d dreamt the whole thing, if it had never really happened at all. All was silent, just as it had been, not a rustle of wind, not a roar of an engine, no laughter or music from anywhere-
It was the stupidest thing he’d ever done, just stood there like a target. The only living, breathing thing in the whole town that was exposed, a sitting duck and why did he only realise that once talons had ripped into his back, forcing him onto the ground as the screeching sound began again, heavy leathery wings beating at the ground. What the fuck the thing was Adam didn’t know, knocked silly for too long a moment before he started to react. His brothers would have been ashamed.
The talons, claws, whatever they were pulled back as the creature felt the muscle and bones shift- but not far, not far enough, Adam’s jaw clamping down on whatever limb he could, the stench of his own blood filling his nose, mingling with the stink of something else, something mouldy and old and disgusting. He wanted to let go, wanted to clean the taste from his tongue but couldn’t, he had to bite down harder, he had to make the thing go, to leave. He had to get away.
He rolled, tugging the thing with him, expecting some sort of weight to press against him, but nothing like the bulk that forced all the air from his lungs, forced him to let go and gasp for air. He felt his bones creak, ribs flattening and a ringing starting in his ears, a ringing roaring sound of his own blood speeding through his body, his heart almost bursting. It had taken this thing all of five minutes, just five minutes to get the better of him, and shit, if there was enough to bury him they might as well put on his tombstone that the thing had sat on him and squashed him to death.
And then, amongst all the organic noises, the hisses of pain and the creatures growling belly, there was a highly inorganic sound. But a sound he’d heard enough. It was the cocking of a gun. A shot gun. Adam felt his body slump, bones shifting and trying to re-knit as he changed again. “Dean?” He croaked out, pain escaping in the word, but there was no answer. Not from his brother at least.
There was the unmistakable sound of the gun going off, the sound loud and close and he could smell the burning. Salt rounds. But then, sudden and crushing the rest of the air out of him, the thing collapsed, all putrid smelling flesh and swollen limbs and wings and scales and fuck, whatever it was, he never, ever, wanted to see one of them again. The weight was lifted then, or rather, kicked away by a large booted foot. That, and the muzzle of the shot gun were as much as he could focus on.
“And give me a good reason why I shouldn’t do the same to you, wolf?” A deep voice said, and Adam blinked groaning as he forced himself to put together the features- handsome, dark haired. “Why are you here?” The voice pressed again, not satisfied with a groan for an answer.
“Comics.” Adam managed, and then it all went black.
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It didn’t take long for werewolf bones to knit back together, two or three days at most to reform almost as strong as they had been before, and this wasn’t the first time Adam had broken bones. It was, however, the first time he’d healed while lying in an actual bed, in an actual house, with clean, new bandages wrapped around his back and a bowl of chicken soup steaming away on the bedside table. Normally Dean and Sam just patched him up with whatever they had to hand in the back of the Impala or in some crumby motel room or, one memorable time, in the toilets at a gas station, and the owner had banged on the door when he’d heard Adam groaning and told them to get the fuck off of his property.
And despite the pain that seemed to originate from every single joint in his body, Adam sort of liked the place. It was a home. A well looked after one and he hadn’t stayed in a house since his mother had-
He didn’t need to think about that. He just needed to get better. It was dark outside, the curtains still open and the moon seemed to peer in at him. He’d been here what, a day then? Two, maybe? He knew he had to get out before the guy who’d brought him home decided that a comic-book reading werewolf was still a werewolf at heart, and therefore a menace to society that needed to be destroyed. That was part of the reason he’d not touched the chicken soup. As good as it smelt, he wasn’t completely sure he could trust it.
“I’m not about to poison you.”
Adam glanced up, as best as he could from his position on the bed; the figure in the doorway tall, solid looking and while Adam was sure that normally, he could have forced his way out, right now he doubted he could move without help. Not while every part of him ached like this.
“Poison would only slow you down. Then you’d be back, someone else’s problem, but that’s not how we work, is it Adam?” He said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He smelt good, like soap and salt and wood and Adam liked that. He never got handsome nurses, even when Dean had to fight off attractive people with a stick.
“Wait.” Adam managed, frowning and unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth, “How do you know my name?”
The man laughed then, and nodded towards the rucksack set on the chair in the corner. “Your name’s inside it. Adam Milligan.”
And shit. That was more embarrassing than having a handsome stranger, another hunter, carry him back here, that was more embarrassing that being naked while said handsome stranger bandaged him up. He was fighting the blush that threatened his cheeks, but considering the man’s disarming smile, Adam guessed he’d lost that fight too.
“Yeah, well...” He began, and then shot an accusatory look at the guy. “I don’t know your name though.”
The other hunter laughed at that, and shrugged, as if that was the truth and giving his own up was only fair. “Michael. Michael Milton.”
“Nice to meet you. I’ll be out of your hair soon. Once-“ He began, trying to sit up and his face quickly becoming a mask of pain. Michael’s hand was on his shoulder, stopping him from moving anymore and then the man was shifting, pulling Adam’s pillows up and behind his back, letting the young man lean back into them with a noise that was almost a sigh of pleasure.
It might have been. That touch felt like fire, swamping his body and turning his insides to jello, a stupid smile appearing on his face. “Thanks. But I still-” He said, and then stopped, because Michael’s hand hadn’t left his shoulder yet.
It was peeled away, slowly, or so it felt, Adam’s heart hammering again and while he couldn’t really smell it, he was sure there was a faint hint of something in the air. Desire. Maybe it wasn’t just Adam’s sudden rush of hormones, maybe it was something Michael had felt too, why he hadn’t pulled his hand away. Maybe...
The god-almighty crash was unexpected and unwelcome, but before Adam could think Michael was up, pulling a handgun from the waistband of his jeans and disappearing out of the door. It was a second later that Adam managed to get himself up, legs almost buckling under his own weight as he tried to follow the sound of Michael’s footsteps, then the sound of wood suddenly splintering, a muffled shout, a curse, and a gun shot. Those sounds in such quick succession made Adam forget all about his fragile bones and his carefully bandaged shoulders and he ran, as fast as he could, down the stairs, almost tripping and falling as he went. But he didn’t fall.
Although he almost threw up when he saw the brown-coated wolf standing over Michael, its jaws around his arm, the jacket sleeve bloody and the handgun dropped, out of reach, under the hall table. The slim glass panel on the left of the front door was smashed, by the bullet Adam guessed, and Sam was just standing there, own gun in hand.
“Fucking stop it!” Adam managed, shouting and not realising how hoarse he sounded. “Dean!” He had to shout again, almost tumbling down the last few steps, bodily forcing himself into his brother. It was the speed of the impact and the surprise that crossed the wolf’s face that seemed to make him move, as Adam had no strength of his own and no real desire to hurt Dean. But he got Michael away from the snapping jaws, he heard the man moving and reaching for the gun as his body began to fold up, reaching out and touching Michael’s arm. He only felt the bloodied jacket brush against his finger tips before the back of his head hit the floor, and he was out again, like a light.
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This time it was light outside when he managed to get his eyes open. They felt gritty, dirty, like he’d been crying in his sleep but Adam didn’t cry. Not that anyone knew about. There was a weight on the bed again, comforting almost, and he found himself looking Michael again. A shirtless Michael, none the less, with one of Sam’s carefully tied bandages on his arm and more of his brother’s handiwork in the form of stitches across his cheek.
“Are you-“ Adam began, wanting to sit up but Michael seemed to sense that, already pressing the flat of his hand against the werewolf’s chest.
“I am fine. It’s you that’s had us all worried. Your brother said three days, tops, for you to heal up. And you’ve been sleeping up here a week now.”
Adam didn’t fight the hand holding him down then, slumping back into the pillows and blinking disbelievingly up at his host. A week. A week was a long time to be settled in one place, far too long for them and that was why his brother’s weren’t there. They’d have gone on, moved onto a near-by hunt with the intention to swing back and pick him up. But they wouldn’t. He was too small and difficult and they always left him in the car or in the motel or where they were holed up.
They had abandoned him. It meant they had to acknowledge that Michael was going to do him no harm, but they’d abandoned him just the same. They’d never really included him as part of their pack anyway, it had always just been Sam and Dean to them, but the truth hurts more than he’d ever thought anything could. It ached more than his shoulders and more than his ribs and more than his legs, which still felt like they were on fire.
It must have showed on his face, somehow, because Michael’s fingers are gently touching his jaw, stroking a line up his cheek, trying to prompt a smile, trying to make Adam lift up his heavy head. “They’re out in the woods. Trying to find out what brings out the monsters every night. Your brothers aren’t very good at sitting still, are they?”
That at least made Adam smile. His brother’s couldn’t sit still, not even for a moment. “So... I guess we’re staying here a while longer?”
“As long as you like."