The Wheels On The Bus Chapter 11

Literally just a chapter of someone having a minor meltdown. 

 XI.

“Fuck, there’s a lot of them.” Adam glances out of the small, circular window of the school kitchen’s back door. 

Outside, there are three hunters, jackets shredded and torn, with patches of blood all over them. They’re all still standing, by some miracle, still resolutely keeping an eye on the barrier ahead of them. Ahead of them, there’s a sea of ghosts.

While the smart move would be to tell Cas of their hastily put together plan, and thus prevent any further animosity and suspicion from arising in the future, the fact of the matter is that Castiel trusts Belphegor less than he trusts the dirt under his shoes. Adam knows that. Jack knows that, and so the consensus had been that, rather than waste precious minutes having to try and convince Cas and probably still fail even if they hit him with Jack’s innocent, pleading eyes, they are all to sneak out the kitchen back door, Michael is to break the salt line so Belphegor can cross over, and then Adam is to quickly reconnect the whole thing while Jack stands guard. 

There’s also the thing about Cas being part of Team Free Will and being off the bus, and how the whole point of their meddling is that they want to be on the bus and blindside Chuck with every pocket of opportunity they can, so it’s not like it’s really an option they can freely take without consequences to think of.

Besides, they actually need to pull off this stupid idea first before worrying about whatever repurcussions it’s going to have in terms of the resident seraph figuring out they’re about to compete with the Winchesters for the Peak Stupid Trophy.

“I wish I wrote two heroic sacrifice boxes on my bingo card,” Belphegor says. 

Adam immediately swats his arm, hissing out, “Would you shut up about the fucking bingo card!”

“Cranky because you’re not winning, aren’t you?”

Adam wonders how much strength it will take to crush a demon’s windpipe and actually have him suffocate. 

“If we can find a small break in the defense,” Michael says. “I can fly us out of here, but that would throw an obvious flare of grace, although considering Chuck already knows I’m around, it’s a matter of whether to remind him I’m around and can intervene, or take the risks of not using grace.”

“It could put everyone here in danger,” Jack says, “Reminding Chuck, I mean.”

“We’re already breaking the salt line. That went out the window ten minutes ago.”

“True.”

“How are we going to get those hunters away?” Adam forcefully drags the focus of the conversation back to the nearest problem. “We can’t just waltz out there.”

Belphegor pauses, and then turns to Jack, the two of them sharing a look. 

“Can’t we?” Belphegor asks. “We can just - “ he makes a motion with his hand “ - press their attention elsewhere. We’ve done it before.”

“Capitalizing on the fact that we were usually in crowded areas and thus the human brain would find it natural that other people would be around and make the impulse to mind their own business more natural.” Adam motions outside. “These guys are on high alert.”

“Take a sledgehammer to those natural instincts,” Belphegor says. 

Adam gives him a look. 

The demon throws up his hands and huffs. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, Milligan, what do you want? A medal for taking the moral high ground or a universe still standing?”

“I am not - “

Belphegor looks like he wants to hit him and only doesn’t because Michael is right beside him and would decapitate him with extreme prejudice if he did so. “Shove your empathy aside for one minute. Please.” He waves his hands around just to get the frustration out. “Compel them to not even notice us, like they’re not seeing shit. We break the salt line, we get out, you reconnect it while Jack makes sure nothing gets through, and then run back inside and don’t let the compulsion up until you’re out of sight. Easy fucking peasy if you start thinking with your logic.”

"I am!"

Belphegor gives him a look this time. 

He is, sort of.  He knows it's the apocalypse and now, more than ever, it's imperical they get more and more cutthroat with all their plays because they have a very, very limited hand. They're not main characters who can squander all their chances and still somehow come up on top with the power of love and friendship and all that cheesy bullshit. They're a bunch of poor side bastards Chuck couldn't give less of a shit about. He and Michael - Michael! Fucking Prince of the Heavenly Hosts Michael! - got left in Hell for fuck's sake, and yes, that fault rests on his brothers' shoulders but it also equally rests on the shitty writer this universe has. 

Like how the fuck do you get a nephilim baby from Lucifer and then chuck him into another universe where he's likely on the bus for a good chunk of time? Or an old, old demon who knows so many obscure spells and can forge objects and weapons that don't exist until he makes them, only to have a top demon kick him down the demonic hierarchy? How the fuck does that happen, out of all the possibilities that can manifest?

Sure their universe has free will, but as it stands, there's also a very obvious hand pulling all the strings, and they can't afford to be careless because something would be the momentary right thing to do. 

But fuck if it doesn't make his skin crawl anyway. 

"I don't want to be a main character," Adam blurts out. 

He thinks everyone around him blinks simultaneously somehow. 

"Excuse me," Belphegor says. "What the fuck?"

"I mean like - " Adam motions with his hands. All it does is make him look ridiculous. "I don't - I don't want to be tactless, but at the same time, I realize that being a main character also means you don't want to be tactless but the thing is that you can be, and - "

Michael puts a hand on his shoulder. "Breathe."

He stops talking. He pauses, takes in a deep, deep breath. He lets it out, reaching up to squeeze Michael's hand. 

"I feel," he starts, "Like we're betraying all other side characters by just… treating them like side characters."

"Milligan," Belphegor says. "The clock is ticking. Please explain this as plainly as you can."

"I don't like the idea of mind controlling people!" he says. "It leaves a bad taste in my mouth. And I feel like that's the sort of shit main characters do to side characters because they don't matter." He catches himself before he can raise his voice. "To the whole of the story, the structure of the universe - they're narrative fodder. It doesn't matter if they feel weird about it after, none of it does. They're on the bus by then and everything progresses without them, and it's - " He makes a frustrated gesture. 

But he sees understanding dawn in Jack's eyes. 

"And yeah, sure, Sam would think about this. Dean would too," Adam says. "But they've fucked up a lot on the way by their decisions too, you know? And like, I get it. They're the leads. Chuck throws this shit at their feet and I feel bad that they probably can't trust their own decisions now that they know this, but holy fuck." He motions to himself, with way too much force than he should have. "I'm a side character."

They all stare at him, for a moment, even Michael. 

But then he feels that reassuring squeeze on his shoulder again, before the angel's hand moves down to hold his own. 

Belphegor pushes his sunglasses up in slight frustration, looking away for a bit, but he  sighs. Then he laughs. "Jiminy kripes, you anxious little bitch."

Jack hits his shoulder. 

"Ow,  what?" Belphegor asks, rubbing his arm. 

"He has a point, you can't just ruin the moment with that," Jack says. 

"I just did," Belphegor says, laughing lightly. But he sobers quickly, turning back to Adam. "Listen, Milligan. You are like, the least bastardly one out of all of us rats, which I'm pretty sure no one would argue with."

He pauses, waiting for objections. And he's right, there are none. 

"But you also know how to look at the big picture. You know what's at stake," Belphegor says. "We'll apologize. We'll make it up to them, but right now, they can either die because that barrier breaks and all the ghosts are still on the other side -" Belphegor points to the door. " - or we can get those ghosts out of the equation and let them live to see another day."

"And you know Sam and Dean care about people," Jack says. "I wouldn't be here if Sam didn't intervene, and if Dean didn't put at least some form of effort into accepting me. I think they're just... "

"Too used to loss?" Adam says, recalling a conversation from weeks and weeks ago. There's a sting of bitterness that wells up in him, but it's not as bad as it was the first time he heard the words.  That's progress, right? 

"Yeah," Jack says. 

"It doesn't excuse it, but, yeah," Belphegor says. "They make stupid decisions to save people, that's what they're all about."

"But that's a roundabout argument, isn't it?" Adam asks, "They save those they can see, the ones Chuck throws onto their path, but in the process, cause and effect just… takes other off-page victims."

"Adam," Michael says. "You know you're not a monster if you try your best and something out of your control happens."

Shit. 

Just like that, it's like he's been punched in the fucking gut. Trust Michael to know exactly what the root of his turmoil is, even if he can't properly tell until it's told to him. 

They did spend millenia in the Cage. That's to be expected. 

Adam laughs, wiping at his eyes a little. "Sam and Dean aren't monsters."

"I know," Michael says. "And nobody said it. I know you don't feel like that. But - " He inclines his head. "Look outside. The goal is to get out, get the ghosts away, and everyone in this school lives. That's all, Adam."

Adam nods, taking in another breath. 

Fuck, trying to be put together for days on end when the world's collapsing takes a lot out of a guy. 

"You anxious fuck, it'll be fine," Belphegor says, laughing a little brighter this time. To Adam's surprise, he claps his shoulder. "We'll throw them an apology party if it makes you feel any better. If anything, all the stakes are firmly on one side right now."

"We just have to get Michael and Belphegor out the salt circle," Jack says. "And then we're good."

Adam snorts. "No we're not, since you're gonna have to be the one to hold the mind control and push back whatever's gonna try to crawl through the barrier. We've been avoiding using your powers."

"I know, but we don't have a lot of options," Jack says. 

“Yeah,” Adam says. He lets the rest of his nervousness out with a chuckle. “Jiminy Kripes?”

“I don’t wanna summon Chuck like Bloody Mary, man, I’m avoiding any name-in-vain-taking until we get this all sorted out,” Belphegor says. Jack snickers.

Adam shakes his head, and after a moment, turns back to the little window, looking at the hunters, and then the ghosts. “Aw fuck,” he says, "We're really doing this, huh?"

"Sure as daylight," Belphegor says. 

"You'll be fine," Michael says. 

"I know, but you better be too," Adam says. He scans the area. There's gonna be ghosts spilling out onto the field as soon as the salt line breaks, so they're gonna have to fight. 

He looks around the kitchen. The cutlery here has got to be iron, right? 

“What are you thinking?” Michael asks.

“If we can get iron around here,” Adam says. “In case something gets through the barrier, I’m gonna need it. I’m not Jack. And I’m shit with channeling grace in a panic.”

“I can blast the ghosts back before we cross over,” Michael says, “That’ll give us some window of time. If you can reconnect the line before then, you won’t even need to fight.”

“I know,” Adam says, already walking back to the cupboards to check for anything that he can use. “But we can always have contingency plans.”

“I’ll take an iron weapon,” Belphegor says, rushing over to help him in his search. “I’d rather get back to hell in one piece, thanks.”

“What about the pans?” Jack motions to the rack where the cast iron pans are hung. 

Adam immediately grabs one.

“Guess we’re reenacting Tangled tonight,” he says. “Belphegor, you’re sure about handling iron?”

“I’d rather get a little burn than get shredded,” the demon says, adjusting the gloves on his hands before carefully taking a pan off the rack.

“Michael?” Adam asks.

The angel pauses for a moment, thinking. “If you do need to use it,” he says, “Make sure it’s within reach while you pour the salt.”

Adam grins. “I’ll be fine.”

Michael motions a hand out. Adam tosses him a pan.

“Come on, Jack, you’re not gonna shoot someone on accident with this.” Belphegor takes another one off and makes his way to Jack to shove it in his arms. The boy laughs, but takes it, hefting it up in his hands.

For a moment, Adam looks at all of them, holding up their weapons for tonight.

“We look ridiculous,” he decides.

“Yeah,” Michael says, but he smiles. “But at least we’ll probably make it out alive.”

“Probably,” Jack says.

Belphegor winces. “I don’t like that.”