DRIVER PICKS THE MUSIC, SHOTGUN SHUTS HIS CAKEHOLE! ... #PICKSMUSIC, an independent dean winchester from the cw's supernatural.

MADISON, WISCONSIN.

let me off!! please!! i'm begging you--stop!!! wrist presses against dean's temple as green eyes squint at the ground. phantom voices, screams, smells, tastes haunt his senses and creep up through the twisting corridors in his mind at the smallest slip of iron fisted control. the road helped. kinda. he hasn't stopped til he hit destination john winchester's journal entry, page 64. trembling engine that hung on the whole ride up came to an abrupt halt next to a chipped curb. rusted door still hangs on hinges long past the point of wd-40's salvation. had to knock it open, get out. breathe. as sights, sounds and memories clawed their way right from the pit into his skull bursting to the surface replaying WHAT HE DID vivid, bright in high definition.

the trek to bobby's derailed the minute dean realized had his shit together enough to figure out he was going to have to prove himself to a man who would rather put one between his eyes than believe, without a shred of doubt, that hell spit out a soul it did everything in its power to own. a winchester set free? no, he wouldn't believe it for a second.

hastily sketched image of a scarab was burned into dean's mind. deep enough for him to remember when he needed to most. john's words were plain and clear. damn near painting a map to the location. outside the university of wisconsin. not too far off the road. just outside of town. the marker? a tree with the same drawing carved in the bark. he'll find it when he's meant to. i'll make sure of it so will bobby once he knows. only what the eldest winchester doesn't know is--those words weren't meant for him.

so blank face contorts into a grimace : nose scrunched, brows knit together in a frown. if only he’d inherited any of john’s skill when it came to cars and crap — could’ve offered a hand there. but the only thing john had taught him was how to hustle pool. well, that and how to drive a car older than anything adam would ever be able to afford. jeez, what can he offer, actually ?

“well, i, uh, i could drive you to a mechanic or somethin’. my car’s at home, but… ‘s not far. get you something to eat … or i got some minutes on my cell if you need to call someone ?” he’s fumbling for his phone in the pockets of mustard — yellow jacket before his sentence has found its end. the tapping of his foot against the pavement belies the nervousness that isn’t evident in visage’s gentle expression.

he really hopes this guy isn’t a serial killer, or something. the offers he will not yet extend : a place to chill, or let him use the crappy lukewarm shower at his apartment, will have to wait until he’s sure that’s not the case.

he wishes so badly that he could go back, somehow avoid being sold to asmodeus in the first place, if only so he could protect his brother the way michael had always protected him. much as he loves castiel, much as he has a certain fondness and respect for the winchesters, he can't imagine willingly leaving adam and michael behind like that. he's supposed to be the selfish one here, that's been his thing for millennia now, not them, and even at his worst in his loki days he couldn't have done that to michael. leaving him behind when he ran away is one thing; leaving him to be tortured is something he has no words for.

"yeah, being awake and aware in hell is pretty shitty." he hadn't even been anywhere near the cage, and it still almost broke him beyond repair to be fully aware the entire time asmodeus tortured him. the cage is so much worse, it was the entire reason for it being built. it's torture for an archangel, let alone a human. hiding out in their head is probably the only reason either michael or adam can even be standing across from him right now, holding an actual coherent conversation.

there’s thanks to be extended to michael, for doing what adam’s brothers hadn’t. for adam’s part, he’d just … been there. had witnessed castiel come, and then death itself. had watched lucifer leave. that michael had been the only one deserving of adam’s relentless attempts at kindness was more of a reflection on how crap everyone else was than anything.

but he’s also no good at the genuine feelings — or maybe he’s just had enough of them for a hundred lifetimes — so he pulls to his mouth a tight smile. gabriel plays the part of a good brother well. which begs the question of where, exactly, he was the whole time michael was in hell. what was it that could have kept a good brother away from raising their pseudo—father from behind cage bars ?

“i dunno about a good influence, but i did make him try pizza. and burgers. and apparently rebelling against his dad.” tone is flat, despite words that ought to carry some merriment. much as adam wishes he could trust that gabriel is good to his core, even the michael—born affection for him no longer entirely quells rising skepticism.

adam has never known love without abandonment. not from family. michael had stayed firm in questioning sam and dean for him, and now the favour had to be returned.

it’s easier, this. to carry one another’s anger and resentment than to acknowledge their own.

( there is another world in which adam does not meet dean for years // in that timeline, he can muster only mild disintrest. here, now, he is not yet so cynical. )

“alrighty. adam milligan, good to meet you.” he doesn’t know much about the kid, none of them really do; he hadn’t figured into dad’s plan enough for the angels to even have heard of him until the day they decided to bring him back, which means gabriel only learned after the cage and asmodeus.

neither of the winchesters know enough about their brother to be able to fill him in, either. they both tend to get awkward if adam is brought up, and he’s not about to deal with that by asking for more information no matter how curious he is about the guy his brother went to hell with. even if he did, he knows he’d get a vague answer at best, considering they’ve barely met the guy.

“hell, schmell. before we get into story time, first things first, and this is very important: are you the one who taught my brother how to swear?” okay, so maybe not the most important question of the day, but he needs to know for his own curiosity. "because i was serious about that gift basket. do you like chocolate? stupid question, right? who doesn't like chocolate."

he leans back, arms crossed over his chest as he gives adam another once over. he can still see michael's grace, but it's been dimmed now, shoved into the background but still present, just like adam's soul had been a moment before. changing up the driver's seat. another interesting development.

jeez, if adam had met gabriel unannounced, there was no world in which he would have placed him as having been raised by mike. but then again, it’s not like he’s a spitting mirror-image of john winchester, so … pot, kettle.

adam wants to cradle bitterness close for the fact michael had been so torn up about gabriel’s disappearance // wants to spit fire and narrow hardened eyes the way michael had done for him when faced with his supposed brothers. & he would, were it not for the rush of affection that floods their body, archangel—born & rare in its exuberance. michael is almost always hurt, these days.

( so is adam, but it’s an easier thing to focus on the distress that isn’t his own. )

so adam huffs a laugh, permits the uptick of his lips in something approaching a genuine smile. “ never heard him do it before, either. it … yeah, probably my fault, though. ” adam swallows around the story he doesn’t know how to tell : where does he even begin ? adam has never told anyone what happened in the cage. it isn’t as though sam and dean had been asking to hear it, & adam probably wouldn’t have told them if they had. “ we realised pretty quick nobody was coming for either of us, ” and there is the underlying snark at both families, “ working together was the only shot we had at staying sane. ” adam wonders what gabriel is looking for // what does a concerned brother want to hear ? “ after cas came down for sam … we spent most of our time in our head. ”