His body still has the scar Sam’s soul bullet gave him from the equalizer.

Chuck realizes it when he starts getting itchy from the sweat that’s bursting like beads under his heavy suit jacket. Nobody ever realized it, because they didn’t know him that well, but he despises suits. He’s always been a sweatpants and t-shirt kinda guy, and this is the reason. The fabric on his skin feels like sandpaper rubbing up against him despite how comfortable the material is supposed to be.

He scratches at the scar, then runs his fingers through his curls to get them out of his face. They’re slick and damp and slimy—he’s been walking now for hours. His feet hurt so much they’re almost numb. Except for the spots on his heels where, he knows without looking, blisters are forming because he hasn’t used them like this in years.

For a fleeting moment he has the egregious idea, supplied from somewhere in his brain, that they won’t be there forever. Then the reality sinks in, heavy on his chest, a boulder being plunged into the lake he can still smell from however many miles back. And then the knowledge sits there, festering into an unwanted, ugly mass—He isn’t coming back.

The thought causes him to stumble, almost falling to his knees once again. What a pathetic sight he must be; dirty, used, discarded.

Chuck looks up, eyes stinging. He wipes them with the back of his hand, realizing just how badly he needs to wash them. He’s close enough to whatever the nearest town is for him to see the city lights, and that’s the only reason he’s able to deal with it all. Beyond that, he still isn’t sure. He’s more of a pantser than a planner, unlike Him.

He notices the stars in the sky look a bit like that scar on his shoulder; the only scar that the being that possessed him couldn’t heal. The imagery makes his fingers itch to write, but he can’t. He has nothing on him, not his pocket notebook, not even his ID.

Besides that, Chuck isn’t even sure he wants to write anymore. The thought makes him feel a bit nauseous.

But he supposes the story has already been written. He’s always loved a good parallel.

————

Summary: The hand cradling his face stays strong, keeping Adam in the memory, but not enough to get fully lost in it. Michael’s skin is warm.

He’s here. They’re both here.

—————

@midamappreciationweek

this is a request for anons/asks :3 i’m bored

unfortunately it’s looking like i will only have one work done in time for midam appreciation week (i’ll post them all eventually don’t worry…there’s zombie!jack happening in one, i can’t back out now lol) but might just publish little >1k drabbles with the prompts i won’t be using…hmm

i’m sure this has been said before but when adam and michael are talking in the bunker about the possibility of michael’s dad being a grade a asshole, there’s something so so so important to me about how adam points out michael’s hypocrisy.

this matters because michael was JUST criticizing sam and dean for leaving adam and how he is in unable to trust them. he doubts them because of their actions.

in turn, adam is pointing out that clearly michael has a line for his family members and it’s been crossed by michael’s own, so why is his dad any different than sam or dean? what makes michael different than adam? why does his dad get to betray and abandon him and still get michael’s trust and loyalty? why is michael expendable?

he’s really tapping into michael’s beliefs that were just established to us as the audience at the diner. (ie: family sometimes hurts you and just because they’re blood relatives or ‘family’ doesn’t mean they have your best interests at heart. sometimes there are things more important than family, sometimes walking away from your family is freedom) and he’s holding michael to the same standard he’s set for the winchesters.

IMAGE ID under cut