He let go of Sam, hitting the ground as Dean drew a pistol.
"See, I should've thought of that," Dean said. "I should've thought of that first. I'm a good driver. Got a memory like an elephant. None of what you were telling me made sense, and that's one of the marks of your kind of demon."
"Dean--" Adam began.
Dean pulled something out of one pocket, keeping the pistol leveled at Adam's face. "Newspaper clipping," he said, letting it drift down toward him. "That town, about five miles back. Spate of couples, murdering each other. Remembering fights that never happened. And some just drive off into the woods for no reason and get torn up in the night. So what's your story?" He curled his second hand around the gun again. "Hate couples? Got a grudge against this town? Or is this just for shits and giggles?"
Adam wiped a hand across his mouth. It came away bloody. "You people," he said. "You don't get it."
"Yeah, we don't really need to. Bye, Adam."
"You can't!" Adam yelled, an instant before he fired. "I mean you can't."
"And why the hell not?" Dean snapped.
"Please," Adam said.
"Not a good reason," Dean said.
Adam pushed himself up, expression changing. "You're going to remember me," he said, bloody grin aching across his face. "You won't have a choice. And as long as you remember me I'll exist in some way--"
"Yeah, and what happens if I shoot you in the face?" Dean cocked the gun. "The way I see it--"
He didn't finish the sentence. His eyes darkened, his jaw tightened, and he pulled the trigger instead.
Adam's head snapped back and his entire body flickered, like a convulsion, like a ghost. Dean shot again and Adam screamed--a sort of full-body decompression shriek as whatever composed him dissolved.
"I'll remember you dead," he said, flipping the safety back on and sliding the pistol into the waist of his jeans. "Sammy, you all right?"
Sam answered by rolling over and vomiting into the brush.
"What did he make you see?" he asked, and didn't give him time to answer. "Well, whatever it was, it wasn't real, okay? Come on." He reached out, clapped Sam on the shoulder.
Sam recoiled. It wasn't a reasoned response, it was conditioned--whatever Adam had left in his brain acted up, made him hit Dean's hand away. "Don't touch me."
Dean's jaw tightened. "I'm going to tear down camp," he said. "Start the car. You okay to make it back there on your own?"
Sam swallowed. Acid and bile still coated his mouth, and his heart was still skipping beats. He nodded.
"Right." Dean wasn't convinced, but he wasn't making any special effort to stick around. "Holler if you need anything."
He walked away at a doublestep. Sam rolled onto his back, blinking, staring up through the branches toward the sky.
Re: This may be the roughest thing I've written in three months. ...actually, it felt good.
He let go of Sam, hitting the ground as Dean drew a pistol.
"See, I should've thought of that," Dean said. "I should've thought of that first. I'm a good driver. Got a memory like an elephant. None of what you were telling me made sense, and that's one of the marks of your kind of demon."
"Dean--" Adam began.
Dean pulled something out of one pocket, keeping the pistol leveled at Adam's face. "Newspaper clipping," he said, letting it drift down toward him. "That town, about five miles back. Spate of couples, murdering each other. Remembering fights that never happened. And some just drive off into the woods for no reason and get torn up in the night. So what's your story?" He curled his second hand around the gun again. "Hate couples? Got a grudge against this town? Or is this just for shits and giggles?"
Adam wiped a hand across his mouth. It came away bloody. "You people," he said. "You don't get it."
"Yeah, we don't really need to. Bye, Adam."
"You can't!" Adam yelled, an instant before he fired. "I mean you can't."
"And why the hell not?" Dean snapped.
"Please," Adam said.
"Not a good reason," Dean said.
Adam pushed himself up, expression changing. "You're going to remember me," he said, bloody grin aching across his face. "You won't have a choice. And as long as you remember me I'll exist in some way--"
"Yeah, and what happens if I shoot you in the face?" Dean cocked the gun. "The way I see it--"
He didn't finish the sentence. His eyes darkened, his jaw tightened, and he pulled the trigger instead.
Adam's head snapped back and his entire body flickered, like a convulsion, like a ghost. Dean shot again and Adam screamed--a sort of full-body decompression shriek as whatever composed him dissolved.
"I'll remember you dead," he said, flipping the safety back on and sliding the pistol into the waist of his jeans. "Sammy, you all right?"
Sam answered by rolling over and vomiting into the brush.
"What did he make you see?" he asked, and didn't give him time to answer. "Well, whatever it was, it wasn't real, okay? Come on." He reached out, clapped Sam on the shoulder.
Sam recoiled. It wasn't a reasoned response, it was conditioned--whatever Adam had left in his brain acted up, made him hit Dean's hand away. "Don't touch me."
Dean's jaw tightened. "I'm going to tear down camp," he said. "Start the car. You okay to make it back there on your own?"
Sam swallowed. Acid and bile still coated his mouth, and his heart was still skipping beats. He nodded.
"Right." Dean wasn't convinced, but he wasn't making any special effort to stick around. "Holler if you need anything."
He walked away at a doublestep. Sam rolled onto his back, blinking, staring up through the branches toward the sky.