InsaneJournal

WHO: Adam Milligan and Crowley
WHAT: Having a few drinks and a discussion.
WHEN: Evening
WHERE: Some place that isn't the Roadhouse.
RATING: TBD
STATUS: In Progress

Adam wasn't stupid. He knew there was something going on with the people he knew. He wasn't blind. He saw the way they looked at him. The way they acted differently than they once had. He didn't know what was going on but there was definitely something. Either they knew something he didn't know, were about to do something he was aware of, or had already done something and were hoping he didn't find out. Whatever the case was, there was most assuredly something he wasn't being told and he didn't like it, not even a little.

Unfortunately, there also wasn't much he could do about it. Sure, he could try to press someone into telling him something. Dean probably wouldn't ever budge but he was willing to bet Sam would, if pressed hard enough. Dawn too, especially if he took advantage of the sleepless nights she was likely still getting courtesy of a newborn. There were other people who would probably tell him things too but, really, those two were the highest on his list.

However for some reason Adam hadn't decided to speak to either Sam or Dawn about this. Instead he'd simply kept it to himself, observing without commenting, and had decided the best way to spend his Saturday night was not with his newborn daughter, or the mother of his child, or the brother who might offer him answers. He wasn't even with the brother that probably wouldn't tell him jack. No, he was at the bar, having a drink, and had every intention of being there until he was told to leave and poured himself into bed sometime in the wee hours of the morning.

He had opted against the Roadhouse, too, not wanting to deal with any of the Harvelle family on their own turf not to mention the whole pesky drinking under age thing that would probably get him in trouble with the non-locals running a legitimate business. No, this was definitely better. If someone wandered absently into this little hole-in-the-wall place, that was all well and good, but the Roadhouse wasn't where he felt like drowning his sorrows at the moment. Not that he really had any sorrows. In fact, Adam didn't have much of anything in the way of negative emotions. Sure there was a bit of anger at times, and he had the ability to get frustrated, but sorrow and sadness? Loss and mourning? Those were no more than distant memories to him and, frankly, Adam was grateful for it. So much of his time after dying had been focused on the loss of his mother, the pain he felt at her death. That was gone now. So was the worry of what would happen if he ever returned home, what his family thought of the fact that he had an infant daughter whose birth he'd had to be told to go to by his boss, or much of anything else that Adam was now considering to be quite a hindrance.

Really, he wasn't sure why he was feeling this way now but he definitely appreciated how clear his mind was now without all of those bad thoughts and worries to bog him down. And so what if everybody else was talking about him or was uncomfortable around him? Life had never been better, as far as he was concerned, and it was with that last, fairly cheerful thought that he lifted his beer for an invisible toast with himself then raised it to his lips for a long swig.

It was just as he was finishing up his swallow that someone approached the barstool beside him and sat down. Curious, Adam glanced in the person's direction before tipping his head in greeting. It wasn't a local, of course, but the two beers he'd put down before the one he was on now meant he wouldn't tell the newcomer to get lost, either.