[Michael is the last person the owner of these inner demons wants peeking between the cracks of his soul, but Michael is by rights the first to see all that's going wrong inside Adam. Everybody can guess that it's been difficult for him, everybody can guess that the tired smudges under his eyes and his poor daytime coping behavior mean he's struggling, but no one really knows.
Had they bothered to ask, Adam wouldn't even have the words to answer. There are no words in the language he knows to describe what he feels.
Sometimes Hell creeps up on him with harmless hallucinations--a conversation with a ghost, maybe, or a vision that exists only in his head--or with memories of pain, or with dreams like this. Sometimes he sees a blonde woman covered in blood (mom) or an outline of a man with a booming voice (dad), or those strangers who double as brothers who say things but do the opposite. Sometimes there are ghouls, sometimes angel light and flapping wings that translate to burning, blinding agony.
Always, though, always there's the feeling of being hounded. Hunted. The walls of his mind pulse with it. Monsters, archangels, a killer with an axe--it doesn't matter. Like most dreams, the feeling doesn't have to be rational, it just is.
He's in a hallway somewhere, and the warning of run or die is there, so he starts to, because it's been a long, long few days of wondering if a killer (Tom with Dean's face) is around every corner and the pressure needs to be released somewhere. Except when he spins around he nearly stumbles straight into another monster.
John. Dad. Michael? He looks more real than he should, more than what Adam's used to seeing.
And he's talking. That's a little different than usual.]
no subject
Had they bothered to ask, Adam wouldn't even have the words to answer. There are no words in the language he knows to describe what he feels.
Sometimes Hell creeps up on him with harmless hallucinations--a conversation with a ghost, maybe, or a vision that exists only in his head--or with memories of pain, or with dreams like this. Sometimes he sees a blonde woman covered in blood (mom) or an outline of a man with a booming voice (dad), or those strangers who double as brothers who say things but do the opposite. Sometimes there are ghouls, sometimes angel light and flapping wings that translate to burning, blinding agony.
Always, though, always there's the feeling of being hounded. Hunted. The walls of his mind pulse with it. Monsters, archangels, a killer with an axe--it doesn't matter. Like most dreams, the feeling doesn't have to be rational, it just is.
He's in a hallway somewhere, and the warning of run or die is there, so he starts to, because it's been a long, long few days of wondering if a killer (Tom with Dean's face) is around every corner and the pressure needs to be released somewhere. Except when he spins around he nearly stumbles straight into another monster.
John. Dad. Michael? He looks more real than he should, more than what Adam's used to seeing.
And he's talking. That's a little different than usual.]
What?
[That's not how the script goes.]