(Don't) Open the Door to Family
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. I do not profit from this story.
Pairing: none
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Spoilers: season 5
Beta: webbswoman - Thank you!
Summary: There are some things you shouldn't open the door to. Luckily for Dean and Sam, Adam does, and now he even has the medical degree to help his brothers. (One-shot)
Note: Set in some future time and/or alternate universe in which Adam has gotten out of the cage, went back to university, became a doctor and now works at a hospital. Dean and Sam visit from time to time.
There are some things you shouldn't open the door to. Adam should probably have learnt that lesson when the ghouls came for him and his mom. He should have learnt that lesson again when Michael used his body as a vessel.
Well, Adam doesn't always heed the lesson, no matter how often Dean and Sam recite it. Lucky them, because they're the ones standing in front of his door.
"Seriously, guys, again?"
Dean, leaning against the door frame, gives him a pained smile. The colorful bruises on his face are a nice effect. "We were in the neighborhood, thought we'd come over."
Sam is standing behind him. His smile is apologetic over Dean's head, and Adam can see that he's ready to catch his older brother if he needs to.
"Yeah? What's the size of the neighborhood this time? Three-hundred miles or just fifty?" Adam asks.
"Details."
Adam steps back and they limp inside. Dean is clearly the worst off – this time – but Sam doesn't look completely healthy either.
"Don't tell me it's your hip again," Adam says to Sam.
"Sorry. Fell down the stairs; courtesy of a poltergeist."
"And what's your story?" The youngest Winchester turned to Dean.
Dean smirks. "Ran into a door."
Adams groans and mutters, "Smartass."
He leads them into the living room. His apartment is small, so his couch is actually a large sofa bed, something which his older brothers know more than well enough by now. It might even be big enough for both of them but one always ends up on the floor anyway. Sometimes it's Adam because it doesn't happen very often that Sam and Dean aren't injured when they visit him and he's a sucker for his brothers in pain. Usually it's serious, too, because, to quote Dean, "No sense in coming for a dislocated shoulder, we can fix those ourselves." Doesn't matter either how many times Adam recites the reasons why it's a good idea to let a professional – in a hospital! – take care of their injuries. Because even though Adam can call himself such a 'professional' now with no small amount of pride, his apartment isn't an ER (at least not yet. He might have to reconsider this sometime in the future).
Later, Sam is asleep, while Dean is watching Adam cook.
"Thanks for putting up with us." It's the most sincere Adam has ever heard Dean sound.
"No problem. That's what family is for, right?" Adam snorts a bit. 'Family' is the one big thing for the Winchesters. It may not always show, but deep down that's the truth.
"It is," Dean agrees, but he doesn't look at Adam as he says it. Adam knows immediately that Dean is thinking of his brothers' time in the cage.
Adam sighs heavily. He's not good at this. Something at least that he has in common with Dean. "You need to let it go."
He can't help the stab of anger anyway. Dean looks as if he knows that he's still angry sometimes. Perhaps that's why he doesn't go into the subject. Dean leans over the pot instead.
"Smells good," he says.
"Dude, it's pasta. It doesn't smell like anything!"
Dean shrugs. "Sam loves it. Has since he was a kid and I managed to wean him off the Lucky Charms."
Adam always feels strange listening to Dean telling stories about his and Sam's childhood. Compared to Adam, they definitely drew the shorter straw. Still, at times he feels the same angry need to find any and all ghouls still running around and exterminate them, happily taking some demons, vampires or even dickbag angels with him along the way.
"Perhaps I should come with you one of these days," he says.
Dean is already shaking his head. "No, Adam, just no."
"You've said it yourself: hunting is the family business!"
"And you can count yourself lucky you're not in it, 'cause you never get out."
Adam snorts. He thinks of the wall paint mixed with salt, the threshold of every single door in this small apartment, also secured with salt, the countless sigils protecting against any and all non-human visitors, including a sigil against angels, ready for him to slap his palm against should anyone but Castiel ever show up. Not to mention the guns locked in his closet.
"Seriously, I could help! Besides, I've been in this shit since I was born! My mum and me getting killed by ghouls, Michael, that was all because of our family!"
Dean looks uncomfortable. Guilt-tripping him, that's something Adam has watched Sam do and he has more than enough ammunition to do it himself. He doesn't feel particularly bad about it either, though it's certainly not Dean's fault that Adam wasn't born into a normal family.
"Say, how do you sleep these days?" His brother asks.
Low blow, Adam thinks. "How does Sam?" He shoots back. They probably share some of the symptoms: waking up in the middle of the night, scared out of his mind, feeling as if the floor had dropped out from under his feet. Adam only remembers some stuff in fragments, like watching the fire eat up Sam's face. He doesn't want to think about what that feels like, wall or no wall.
Dean gives him a crooked smile. "And where would we go the next time we need a doc?"
"You wouldn't have to go anywhere," Adam argues. "'Cause I'd be right there."
"Not if you get your stupid head blown off."
"You think I can survive Michael and get out of the Cage but not duck away from a bullet?"
Dean sighs. "Listen: Sam and I, we really feel better knowing you're safe."
"I'd probably be safer with you."
Dean shakes his head again. "That's not up for negotiating."
Adam violently stirs the spaghetti, splashing some of the water onto the stove where it sizzled.
"What if something happens?" He asks plaintively. He doesn't even have to pretend to get the tone right.
The older Winchester doesn't answer. They both know that something like "It won't" carries absolutely no meaning for them. Not even with an angel on their side.
Dean clears his throat. "When we finally bite the dust, Cas will tell you about it. And I want you to stay right wherever you are and not do anything. No going out for revenge, no nothing. You stay, get yourself a girl, have kids, be happy, whatever. I don't care. But you don't let yourself get pulled into this. It destroys you forever."
It's the blackest picture Dean has ever painted of his own and his brother's fate, though Adam thinks that Dean might have laid it on thick for his benefit. He knows from Sam that Dean once thought of hunting as the best lifestyle to be had.
Unconsciously he rubs his palm over his chest. He gives it one last try:
"I could go hunt on my own."
Dean visibly freezes and his expression turns stern. He looks eerily like John. Putting an arm around Adam's shoulders, he tells him in a firm voice:
"I swear on Dad's grave, if you so much as step a foot outside this door-" Dean points at the kitchen door, "with the intention to hunt, I'll hunt you down and return you right here to this place."
His grip feels like iron around Adam's right shoulder. The youngest Winchester may have been going to the gym regularly and put on some muscle, but he's got nothing on Dean or Sam. Adam doesn't reply.
"Get it?" Dean shakes him a bit.
"Yeah, I get it."
The elder Winchester pulls him close for a moment and rubs his knuckles roughly over his hair. Adam gives an unsuccessful token struggle. He knows that this is the only sign of affection Dean will ever show voluntarily.
The next morning, Dean and Sam are still there and asleep; Sam is sleeping on the sofa, Dean, predictably, is lying on the floor between the sofa bed and the door. It's a thing of his, inborn, Sam says. They don't usually take off without saying goodbye but it has happened before; Adam woke up in the morning and found nothing but a neatly folded up sofa, and how they did that without waking him he will probably never know.
Adam goes to take a shower. He's just soaping up his hair when the bathroom door opens and Dean walks in.
"Dude! Privacy needed here!" Adam yells.
"Why? You jerking off?" Dean chuckles dirtily.
"No! But normal people don't walk in on other people showering!"
"Normal? What's that? Besides, you don't have anything I haven't seen before." Dean gives him a cursory glance, then halts. "Or perhaps you do. That new?"
This was exactly what Adam had feared. Abruptly, he feels like an idiot, like a stupid wannabe.
"Got it a few months ago."
Dean raises an eyebrow.
"Shortly after you left the last time around," Adam confesses with a sigh.
Dean hums and finally turns away to grab Adam's toothbrush.
"Not that one! There are two new ones in the cabinet!" He protests. He breaths a sigh of relief when Dean puts it down and obediently opens a new one.
"You know you don't need it. Remember what Cas said?"
"Yeah, I know," Adam interrupts. "No demon will possess me because I've had Michael inside me."
Dean snickers and Adam realizes only then how dirty it sounded.
"Whatever," Adam says, cutting off any bad joke Dean might make. "It's not about that."
"What's it about then? You wanna be one of those 'cool guys' with tattoos?"
"No," the youngest Winchester protests, exasperated. He grabs a towel off the hook and wraps it around his waist before leaving the shower. Dean, brushing his teeth, is clearly still waiting for an answer.
"It's-" he sighs, uncertain how to make Dean understand without sounding like an idiot. "-Family, you know?"
Dean spits out the toothpaste. He runs the water but, to his younger brother's annoyance, doesn't wash off all of the stains of the toothpaste. Adam knows he'll have to scrub all the harder the next time he cleans the bathroom.
"You know you're one of us even without that tattoo," Dean says.
"Of course I know. It's just … it's not like I have anything of you. I mean, how can I, we never even met until a few years ago and you're all I have! It's… I can't explain it any better!"
The older Winchester nods in understanding. "You want something of ours. Okay, that's fine; I get it."
"Really?" Adam can't help but ask incredulously.
"Yeah, really. You've got my official permission to have an anti-possession tattoo."
"How gracious of you," the youngest Winchester replies sarcastically.
"I know." Dean gives him a winning smile. "You should tell Sam."
"Yeah, maybe."
It's not like it will be a secret much longer anyway. Whatever happened between Dean and Sam in the past, they don't keep much from each other now, or anything, as far as Adam can tell. It's almost like telepathy. You tell Dean something and Sam will know five minutes later and vice-versa, even though you could swear you didn't see them together or you think you heard every word they said to each other. On the other hand, Adam won't feel any less stupid explaining the exact replica of the older Winchesters' anti-possession tattoo on his chest to Sam than he did to Dean.
He regards Dean with a black look.
"Can I have my bathroom back now? Like, alone?"
"Sure."
The moment Dean opens the door, he almost runs into Sam coming in. Adam groans.
"Oh, sorry," Sam at least has the decency to say when he sees him.
"No, no, you can go right in, you're not disturbing at all," Dean tells him.
"Excuse me?" Adam bites. "I'd like to get dressed! Without an audience."
"What are you, a girl? First Samantha, now Adamma? It's not as if you remembered to bring your clothes." Dean smirks at him.
Taking a look around the room, he has to realize that his oldest brother is correct. With another groan, Adam puts his head into his hands.
"God!"
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