John left on a cold morning, engine rumbling low as his truck disappeared down the street. He didn't say goodbye like a father. Just a nod, a look, and a line Adam couldn't forget:
"Take care of your mom. And yourself."
Adam stood on the porch long after the truck was gone, the silence heavier than the snow in the air. Frost crunched beneath his sneakers as he shifted his weight, watching his breath cloud and dissipate in the morning chill.
Five days. That's how long John had stayed. Five days of careful conversations, pointed questions, and silent assessments. Five days of Adam walking a tightrope between truth and lies.
And through it all, Kate watching them both with wary eyes, her own secrets wrapped tight around her heart.
The truck was just a speck on the horizon now, black against the pale winter sky. Adam knew he should feel relieved. The inspection was over. The immediate danger of exposure passed.
So why did it feel like a missed opportunity?
He hadn't told him.
Not about the future. Not about his past memories. Not about what was coming.
He couldn't.
It wasn't just that John wouldn't believe him—or that he'd probably drag Adam into the hunt full-time, too soon. It was bigger than that.
Azazel was still out there, watching. Manipulating. And Chuck… Chuck was writing.
If Adam tipped the scales too hard, too fast, someone—or something—would notice. The wrong word, the wrong move, and he could bring down hell sooner than it was meant to come.
So he kept the truth buried deep in his chest, locked behind instinct and fear and strategy.
The screen door creaked open behind him. Kate stepped out, her scrubs visible beneath her open coat, car keys dangling from her fingers.
"He's gone?" she asked, though she could clearly see the empty street.
Adam nodded. "Yeah."
Kate's hand settled on his shoulder, a gentle weight. "Are you okay?"
Such a simple question. Such a complicated answer.
"Fine," Adam said, the lie smooth on his tongue after years of practice.
Kate studied his face, searching for something. Whatever she found—or didn't find—made her sigh softly. "He left his number. Said to call if... if anything strange happens again."
"I don't think we'll need it," Adam said.
"Probably not." Kate's smile didn't reach her eyes. "But I saved it anyway."
They stood in silence for a moment, mother and son, each carrying burdens the other couldn't fully see.
"I'm late for my shift," Kate finally said, keys jingling as she adjusted her grip. "There's chicken pot pie in the freezer. Don't forget your homework."
"I won't."
She hesitated, then leaned down to kiss the top of his head—something she hadn't done in a while, not since Adam had complained he was too old for it. Today, he didn't pull away.
"I love you," she said, and it sounded like a plea. Like she was asking him to stay the boy she remembered, not the stranger he was becoming.
"Love you too, Mom."
Adam watched her drive away, the mom-shaped hole in his chest aching more than usual. She deserved better than this—better than a son who lied to her face every day, who put them both in danger with his secret life.
But the alternative was worse. The scene of her death—of the ghouls wearing her face, of her blood on the floor—still haunted his nightmares. Sometimes he woke up screaming, sure that he could smell her burning flesh.
No. This was better. The lies were a small price for her safety.
Adam turned away from the empty street and went inside, locking the door behind him. He had work to do.
Adam's recovery was almost complete by the end of the week. The pain had dulled to a memory, but the edge of failure still sat in his bones.
He moved through his room, checking and rechecking his supplies. Salt. Iron filings. The silver knife Roy had given him. A journal filled with notes about every creature he could remember from his "other life"—and new ones he'd learned about from Carrigan's journal and Roy's lessons.
Not enough. Not nearly enough.
He'd frozen. He'd almost died. He would have died if Roy hadn't shown up.
The rugaru's face still flashed behind his eyelids when he tried to sleep—those burning eyes, that too-wide mouth, the strange recognition as it had growled, "It's youuuu."
What had it seen? What had it recognized in him?
And then there was the fever—the way his body had burned from the inside out, healing faster than it should have. John had noticed. How could he not? The man tracked monsters for a living. He knew when something wasn't normal.
Adam was healing too fast to be human. And the dreams were getting worse.
He needed help.
Adam lifted the loose floorboard in his closet, revealing a small, fireproof box. Inside was the prepaid phone he'd bought with cash at a gas station two towns over. No one knew about it—not Kate, not John, not even Dr. Reed.
He flipped it open, the plastic warm in his palm, and dialed the number Roy had scrawled on a gas station receipt before disappearing.
It rang once.
Then again.
Then—"Yeah?"
"Hey. It's Adam."
A pause. Adam could hear background noise—the clatter of dishes, muffled voices. Roy was in a diner, maybe.
Then: "Didn't expect to hear from you so soon."
Adam swallowed. "I'm ready," he said. "I know I screwed up. I know I have a lot to learn. But I'm not quitting."
Another pause. Longer this time. Adam heard a door close, the background noise fading. Roy had stepped outside for privacy.
"You sure about that, kid?"
Adam didn't hesitate. "I almost died. I need to know how not to let that happen again. I want to be ready next time."
"Next time," Roy repeated, his voice flat. "You planning on making monster hunting a hobby?"
"It's not a hobby."
"Then what is it?"
Adam closed his eyes, searching for words that wouldn't sound completely insane. "It's... necessary."
Silence. Then a sigh that carried years of exhaustion.
"...All right."
Roy's voice softened just a little.
"I'll be in Windom next week. We'll start with the basics. Real training, this time. No more solo runs, understood?"
"Yeah," Adam said. "Understood."
"Good. And kid—don't lie to me again. I don't have time to bury another hunter."
Click.
Adam set the phone down and exhaled, tension draining from his shoulders. He tucked the phone back into its hiding place, replaced the floorboard, and stood up.
Outside, snow had begun to fall, delicate flakes catching on his window. The world looked clean and new and deceptively peaceful. Adam knew better.
Somewhere out there, demons were making deals. Angels were watching. Monsters were hunting.
And in a small town in Minnesota, a boy with past live memories was preparing for war.