: Whedon owns Buffy-verse. Kripke owns the Supernatural world. I'm just playing. A/N
: I know that I've been a horrible updater, but the new job is killing me and working ten hours a day really takes it out of someone. How do you guys deal with it? How do you balance out between RL and writing? I need help!
Also, I *will* be writing all the prologues to this. A little bit backstory
: Adam had grown up with the Summers family due to the fact that his mom and Joyce were best friends. Then, when he was fourteen- his father had introduced him to his other brothers, thereby indoctrinating Adam into the life of hunters, mullet rock and bad motel rooms. Adam had refused at first, not wanting to have anything to do with hunting- thus confirming Dean's initial analysis of his personality as a 'sulkier version of Sammy', but when Kate Milligan had died- killed by ghouls, Adam knew that it was time to say goodbye to normality.
“This,” said Adam, standing hunched in the street across a sized Cleveland home, hands stuck into the pockets of his nondescript thrift store jeans and shoulders tightly defensive- “sucks balls.”
The day was bright with the promise of hot women and his family, being the huge horndogs that they were- were already salivating in a synchronized Pavlovian response that Adam prayed he would never inherit.
He stared balefully at his oldest brother, currently engaged in making the most ridiculous faces that Adam had ever seen outside of the zoo at Adam’s second brother.
Dean frowned, “Shut it.”He twitched as Sam made an abortive motion with his large hand, almost knocking out Dean in the process. “Oh my god- Sammy, calm down already!” he hissed and batted Sam’s worryingly fast flung hands away from his face and the possibility of losing an eye due to his brother’s wild hand motions.
,” Sam hissed back, looking agitated and crazy eyed. He ran a hand through his too long hair and Adam made a mental note to try and shave the back of his head when Sam was asleep and Dean was feeling especially magnanimous towards Adam. “I still
can’t believe that we didn’t know about Joyce’s death. God, Dean, we should have helped them. We should have been
there. And the house- Dean, there's something seriously
“Well, we didn’t
know,” Dean muttered back, mouth twisted into an angry snarl, “we were a little busy, what with you dying, me dying, dad dying, all three of us going to hell, the various deals we made for each other’s souls, Azazel, Alastair, Lucifer- Michael finding Adam
… The fact that our childhood friends had been orphaned wasn’t exactly priority
Adam chewed his gum detachedly and thought about the fact that he had the misfortune of being born into a really shitty family with rotten luck and some serious co-dependence issues.
The new Summers home was smaller than the one they used to have in California, less pretty with almost no plants on the porch or flowers growing in the front yard. It was Joyce that had the green thumb in the family, the one time that Faith and Buffy had tried to plant a tree- it had died within the week, turning into mushy substance that not even John- who was visiting at the time, could identify.
Adam felt a pang at the thought of Joyce, he really missed her during his travels with the Bozo-twins and finding out that his mom’s best friend was dead- was yet another horrible tick on the checklist of crap that was his life.
“Hey,” Dean said suddenly in his low tone of voice that usually signified that something humongous and horrifying was about to emerge from the darkness and eat them alive.
Adam twitched, just in case.
“Get down,” Dean said urgently and the three of them dropped, Sam taught by years of experience and Adam- by the unfortunate coincidence of sharing the Winchester genes and the fact that he’d been through a hell of an indoctrination into the world of supernatural badness.
Adam squinted into the fading light of day, cursing the fact that the new Summers home seemed to be shrouded in darkness, in shadows.
“Crap, did they pick the darkest house on the block on purpose
?” Adam muttered a tad prissily, yet another by-product of growing up with his brothers. "What's with all the shadows?"
He was reasonably sure that before getting saddled with two older brothers, both with the protective instincts of mama bears- that he hadn’t been quite so petulant. He had always been independent, self-aware, mature. He was a pre-med student before the whole apocalypse debacle, for God’s sake- not that the phrase held much meaning anymore.
Dean and Sam exchanged a silent look, doing that thing where they communicated without words and everyone around them that wasn’t a relative automatically assumed them to be a couple.
“What?” Adam whispered, not sure why he was lowering his voice, only aware that Dean’s look of lust had faded somewhat.
“Darkness charm,” Sam answered him, frowning with his gigantic forehead at the house, “it acts as a privacy spell, but certain people can see it as an extra-heavy cloud of shadows over places.” He glanced at Adam and his lips thinned, “Usually, it’s sensed by those attuned into the mystical.” He glared accusingly at Dean, “Which I’ve been trying
A silence hung over the three of them, squatting next to their car like crazy hobos and Adam wondered whether this Cleveland suburb had any extra-wary neighbors that would be calling the cops right about now. Maybe it was about time that he got started on matching his siblings’ impressive records within the penal system.
“So, by people attuned to the mystical you mean…” Adam frowned at Sam.
“Yeah,” Sam swallowed, “I see it too.”
This time it was Dean that broke the silence, “Well shit,” he said succinctly, with a great deal of emphasis on the tone of disappointment in his words, “so, what does this mean? Did somebody cast a spell on their house? Are we looking for witches?”
“Dean,” Sam scrunched his face in that way he hadn’t lost even after being the Devil’s vessel and committing several heinous acts of violence and one inexplicable act of mailbox vandalism that Adam still couldn’t find a reason for, “only the people living inside
the dwelling can cast a Darkness charm from within. It’s fed by the energies of it’s dwellers, not outsiders.”
Adam exhaled and rocked back on his haunches, feeling a thread of adrenaline rocket through his bloodstream at the thought. “It can’t be,” he shook his head, “no. Not Buffy.”
Both Dean and Sam stared at him, perfectly aware that Adam had only singled out the one Summers sister- the oldest one, not the whiny brat sister that he had always clashed with or Joyce Summers’ adopted daughter that they had been very
surprised to meet once Adam introduced his only remaining family to his dead mother’s best friend.
Adam was pretty sure that Sam still
hadn’t gotten over the fact that the newest member of the Summers clan had propositioned him within five minutes of meeting them and then when Sam had stuttered, hemmed and hawed- had wandered off laughing about wicked shy boy-toys that she was doomed to run into again and again.
“Adam,” Sam finally ventured, shifting as he pocketed at something in his jacket, “we have to think about the possibility…-“ and his words got cut off by a bright green explosion within the house that they had been staring at.