Chapter 23: Dine and Dash
Timeline: Time jump alert! Adam is 14 years old. Sam left for college about 7 months ago and Adam is still on the road hunting with his father and Dean.
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"Come on man! Please!" Adam begged, looking up at the stoic older man standing over him.
"No."
"Come on! I'll do some dishes, clean the floors! Whatever! Just don't call the cops!"
"No," the man replied, leaning down toward Adam, "I'm sick of little high school shits like you coming in here and stealing from me. My restaurant is not some teenager dare!"
"I don't even know about that man. I'm serious." Adam pleaded, getting increasingly nervous.
"Tough luck kid. You picked the wrong place to dine and dash," the man said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest and looming over Adam.
Adam shook his head in defeat and slumped down into the booth he was currently being boxed into by the owner of the deli. He couldn't believe he'd gotten caught. He'd been 'dining and dashing' on and off for weeks now and hadn't been caught since the very first time. And even then he was able to convince that owner to let him work off the food he'd stolen. But of course, this time when he gets caught, the owner is a dickhead with an ax to grind. Typical Winchester luck.
Adam glanced around the diner wondering if he could make a break under the table and out the door before the owner or any of the other staff snagged him when the bells on the front door rang out and a policeman casually walked in.
Shit.
There was no way he was gonna be able to make a break for it now. The grumpy, overweight restaurant owner had him cornered and now the officer had clearly spotted him.
"Problem here Don?" the cop asked the owner as he approached them.
"Damn right. I'm sick of these kids," the owner said angrily, glaring down at Adam.
Adam didn't respond, even though he wanted to roll his eyes.
"You sure you want me to take him in?" the cop asked, glancing at Adam.
"I wanna make an example of this kid, Greg. I'm losing too much money on these little shits,"
Adam watched the conversation between the two carefully; trying to remember all the tips and tricks that Dad had taught him about reading a situation. He knew he needed to decide soon how he was going to play his cards with the cop, decide which persona could get him the most sympathy or hell, even apathy, and get him out of this mess.
The cop looked both bored and aggravated with the restaurant owner and the situation, but he sighed and adjusted his gear belt and motioned for Adam to get up.
"Alright. Come on kid. We'll call your parents from down at the station."
Adam kept his face neutral, knowing that the "down at the station" line was probably meant to scare him. He slid out of the booth and walked toward the door with the officer close behind him, never looking back at the grouchy, old owner who was probably smiling at the sight of the bad seed getting his due.
The officer opened the restaurant door and put a firm hand on Adam's shoulder, a gentle indication Adam knew, that he better not try to run.
"I don't need to cuff you do I?" the cop asked, tightening the hold he had on Adam's shoulder slightly.
"No sir," Adam replied.
Adam wasn't gonna run. To get free of the cop he'd have to hurt the guy and that would only draw more attention and make everything worse. So Adam let himself be shuffled toward the cop car parked out front and didn't resist as the door was opened and he was pushed into the backseat.
Adam sighed and slumped down deep into the smooth leather seat as the cop shut the door with a heavy thud.
I'm totally screwed, he thought.
Adam watched as the cop went back around to the front of the car, talking with another restaurant employee who'd come outside. He looked around the interior of the car, wondering if there was any way he could get out without anyone noticing. There were no handles on the interior doors and only steel mesh between the back and front seats. Short of kicking out the rear window glass, Adam couldn't think of any way to get out.
Fuck.
The officer finished up his conversation and got into the car, glancing up into the rearview mirror before staring the engine.
"Bet you wish you hadn't taken that dare now, huh kid?" he asked to the mirror.
Adam didn't answer but kept his face calm and neutral. Dad always said that keeping calm in a situation meant keeping control and damn if Adam was loose control this early in the game.
"You think your parents are gonna like picking you up from the police station, son?" the officer asked, as he backed out of the parking spot and turned toward the main road.
Adam kept quiet, carefully watching the officer and trying to pick out anything about the guy he could use to help his case.
"What's your name kid?" the cop asked, glancing into the mirror again.
Adam hesitated a moment, unsure if he would be giving away any edge by speaking and then again wondering if he should give his real name. He was fairly sure that the 'rebel teenager' bit wouldn't go over well with this guy, so maybe 'stupid, scared new kid' was the way to go?
"Adam." He answered finally, taking note of the man's accepting nod.
Good. The nod was a good sign. Talking was the way to go with this guy. Maybe he had kids of his own, or maybe he remembered being a dumb kid making bad decisions, either way, Adam could benefit.
"And you're what…13?" the officer asked, glancing down at the computer beside him as a call came across the radio in the car.
Adam unconsciously recognized the EMS response call but he didn't know the code the dispatcher had called out. Sam had made sure he knew all the 10 codes that most police stations used, but the individual codes for incidents varied by city and county.
"14." Adam corrected, keeping one ear on the radio out of habit.
The officer nodded, "You picked a bad day to try out Ol' Don. He's been losing a lot of money lately and he thinks its 'cause of you kids stealing from him,"
Adam just shook his head and looked out the window.
"You know eating food and not paying for it is a crime, right kid? Same as stealing." the cop asked and Adam could feel the man's eyes on him.
Even if you haven't eaten in days?
"Yeah, I know," Adam said quietly to the window, as he watched the winter scenery pass.
"What'd you think your friends are gonna say about this? Think real friends would put you up to something like this?" the officer asked.
Adam had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes. Ok, this guy's M.O was clear: help the troubled teen. Well, troubled teen Adam could play, easily. Maybe he could even make it 'troubled teen with a heart of gold', a true afterschool special moment. Dean would be so proud.
"Guess not," Adam replied quietly.
"This is a tough lesson to learn, son," the officer said, glancing up into the rearview mirror meaningfully, "You have to be careful about who your friends are,"
"We just moved here," Adam said pitifully, putting his cards into play, "I was just trying to fit in,"
The officer looked up into the mirror again and Adam could see his pathetic words land right where he intended him.
"Look, kid," the cop said, as they pulled into the police station, "I'll see if I can get Don to drop the charges,"
The cop put the car into park and turned a little in his seat so that he was partially facing Adam, "But look, what you did was wrong. You stole from him and you're gonna have to make it up somehow, either by paying for your meal or working it off,"
"I know," Adam said, biting hard on the inside of his cheek to keep his expression serious even though he wanted to grin at his ploy working so nicely, "I'll work it off if he wants me to,"
"Alright," he said, "Let's go call your parents,"
Whatever smile Adam might have been trying to hide completely evaporated at the words. He'd kinda forgotten that part.
As the back door was opened and Adam slide out, he glanced around, wondering if now was his golden moment to make a run for it. Of course, as typical of the rest of his luck on this day, there were three other uniformed officers standing in the parking lot chatting, spaced just far enough away that they'd easily be able to tackle Adam the moment he tried to run.
The officer's strong hand was heavy on Adam's shoulder again as he was lead into the small town police station. It was vague and non-descript just like every other station he'd been into when working cases with Dad, the only difference being the city name on the door.
He was lead to a plain brown metal chair, positioned at the end of a similarly plain brown metal desk. Adam sat down heavily in the chair and resigned himself to being stuck. There was no way he could get out of the station without creating a huge commotion and ruining the thin trust he'd developed with the officer who picked him up, trust he wanted to keep in case he needed it.
The officer sat down behind the desk and grabbed a large beige desk phone from the opposite corner, pushing it towards Adam.
"Ok, let's get this over with," he said, picking up the receiver, "Dial 1 to get out,"
Adam took the receiver from the cop and stared down at the numbers on the phone.
Who was he gonna call?
Dad? Hell no. Not only did he not want John Winchester picking him up from a police station, but Dad had also left on a hunt two days ago, which meant he was likely right in the thick of ganking some hell beast. Dad almost never answered his phone when he was hunting and half the time he didn't have cell reception anyway. So no. Not Dad.
Dean?
Dean should have been his first thought. Normally would have been. But Dean was the whole reason he was in this mess to begin with.
Something had broken within his brother when Sam left, despite the fact that Adam was pretty sure Dean had seen it coming. Sam had been gone for months now and every few weeks something would snap within Dean and he'd crawl into the bottle for a few days just like Dad did.
Dean never said anything. He'd never admit it. But there wasn't any other reason that Adam could figure out for Dean to be such a mess… so… not Dean. He could go weeks and be normal big brother Dean, doing all the regular things he always did: hunting, drinking, chasing women, but then something would happen (Adam never knew exactly what) and a switch would flip and Dean would be destroyed. He'd suddenly be quieter, brooding and angry. Then would come the nights where he didn't come home or if he did show up at the motel room it was a 6 am as Adam was getting ready for school and he was still shit faced drunk and stinking of cheap perfume. Then would come the all-day drinking binges where he didn't leave the motel room. He'd stock up on six packs and work his way through them while watching daytime soap operas and yelling at the afternoon courtroom dramas. After a few days of that, he'd remember he still had a younger brother and feel guilty. He'd hustle some extra pool games and take Adam out to the grocery store or take him out to the movies or to play mini golf. It was a cycle they'd been through several times already since Sam left in July.
This past week had been one of those weeks. Dean was deep in the bottle, hiding from something or working through something, Adam wasn't sure. But either way, there hadn't been any food around. Dean just wasn't in his right mind to go and get any. It wasn't a huge deal though and Adam tried not to begrudge his brother something that seemed to have destroyed him on a cellular level. So mostly Adam just took care of himself. He wasn't a little kid, and hell even when he had been a little kid he was able to look out for himself. His mom was amazing, but she worked long hours, sometimes night or weekends. And while she always made sure there was food in the house Adam learned to cook and feed himself when he needed to. As it was now, Adam had figured out that he could skip dinners during the weeks of Dean's binges and as long as he could make it to school early enough he could join in the free breakfast program the county had going. Add that to skimming dollars from Dean and Dad's wallets when they were around and Adam had his weekend meals pretty much set too. Except this week Dad was gone and every time Adam had been able to sneak into Dean's pockets to look for cash all he'd found was condom wrappers and bottle lids.
So he'd been forced to decide how he was gonna feed himself. Options at the motel were limited. Basically ice chips from the hallway icemaker and possibly a coke from the machine if he could find some change or break the lock on it. That wasn't gonna be enough to make it until Monday morning. By the time Saturday evening rolled around Adam was trying to decide where he was gonna steal from. There was a market a few blocks away that was small and looked promising, but Dean had said stealing, even things like bread and peanut butter, from places like that would get you caught easy. So Adam had turned to the Deli. He'd overheard the kids at school talking about it and figured it must be an easy spot since all those idiots could steal food there and they clearly hadn't been trained the way he had. Clearly, he was wrong.
"Kid?" the officer said, shaking Adam from his thoughts, "Go on. Make the call."
Adam sighed. Dean was his best hope at this point. Sam was gone. Dad was MIA. Adam just had to hope that Dean wasn't passed out yet, or even better that he was sober enough to drive and come get him.
Adam dialed the number to Dean's current burner cell, vaguely impressed with himself for remembering the number seeing as Dad had them switching up phones every few weeks.
He pressed the receiver to his ear and listened as it rang.
And rang.
And rang.
Finally, Adam heard a click and almost opened his mouth to speak before he was cut off by Dean's recorded voicemail message.
"It's Dean. Leave it at the beep."
Adam cleared his throat roughly, "Dean, it's me. I'm ok. I'm at the police station. Can you come get me? It's on 12th."
Adam hesitated, wondering if there was anything else he should say before hanging up. He glanced up at the officer watching him and decided he'd said enough and put the phone back down in its cradle.
"Dean?" the cop asked skeptically, "You call your old man by his first name?"
"No… sir," Adam said, "My brother. My dad is out of town, out of cell range. He wouldn't get the call,"
The officer eyed him suspiciously; clearly assuming that Adam was trying to pull something with his phone call to hide his transgression from his father.
"Well, he'd get the message when he gets back in range right? Why don't we call him just to let him know what's going on. Here, you dial and I'll talk," he said, picking up the phone again and motioning for Adam to start dialing.
Although hiding this whole incident from Dad hadn't yet occurred to him, Adam would have been happy if his father never found out. And with enough guilt and blackmail to Dean, he might have been able to cover up the whole mess.
"Dial kid," the cop said.
Adam frowned but dialed the number to Dad's current phone.
He could hear Dad's message immediately click over without ringing, confirming Adam's suspicions that Dad was out of cell range hunting whatever it was.
"Sir, this is Officer Reynolds down at the Greenbrier Police Station. I've got your boy Adam here with me. He's just fine, but he tried to do a little dine and dash over at the diner. He's called his brother to come and get him, but if you are able to stop by the station I'd appreciate it."
The officer left the phone number and address of the station before putting down the phone and looking over at Adam.
"You wanna try your brother again?"
Adam shrugged. He could call Dean all day. There was no guarantee he'd pick up. He was either down in the bottle or up some girl's skirt and either way he wouldn't answer the phone.
"Alright, well we'll give him a little while. Come on," the cop said standing up, "I've got work to do, so I can't be babysitting you all night."
He gently grabbed Adam's upper arm and Adam let himself be lifted from the seat and led away from the officer's desk.
They walked from what Adam knew was the police officers' bullpen down a quiet, empty back hallway. At the end of the hall there was a heavy door with a glass square insert and behind it, Adam could see a row of cells. His stomach clenched at the sight and he unconsciously pulled away from the officer.
"Now don't worry," he said tightening his hold, "You're the only one here right now and it's just until your brother or your dad comes to get you,"
Adam stiffened as the officer opened the door and shuffled him inside. He freaking hated being locked up. Hated being tied up. Caged. Any kind of restraint made Adam's whole body panic.
He took in several small shaky breaths as the officer led him to the first cell. Adam was surprised to see that it looked just like on television: thick grey metal bars, a tiny metal bench on one wall and a shiny metal toilet in the corner.
"In you go," the cop said, opening the door and ushering him inside.
Adam bit down on the wave of panic that rose again in his chest and closed his eyes momentarily, trying to get a hold of himself.
"You just wait here. I'll be back in a while and we can call your brother again," the cop said, shutting the bars behind him with a loud clank that echoed in the room. Adam didn't turn around as he listened to the man's keys jingle and the lock on the cell was turned and clicked home.
Reminding himself to breathe, Adam looked around the small cell and glanced back to watch the cop turn and leave. When the heavy door with the glass was closed Adam realized he was well and truly alone. Alone and locked in a cage.
Adam could feel the familiar feeling of panic rushing at him like the rising tide and he took a moment to try to calm down. The officer hadn't searched him so he still had his lock pick set and his silver knife. If he had to, Adam knew he could pick the lock and fight his way out of the police station. But that wasn't the smart move. He knew that. Right now he was a stupid kid being held until his daddy could come get him. If Adam were to pick the lock and slice and dice his way out of the station, he'd be all over the news as a crazed murdering teen.
No. He would sit. He would wait. Dean would eventually come for him.
Adam walked over to the small metal bench that was pushed up against the cement wall of the cell. He'd never been to jail before. Never been arrested. He probably should get used to it. He and Dad had talked about the possibility before. Dean had been arrested last year after being spotted breaking into a house when he was looking for a cursed object. Dad took the opportunity to educated Adam on the best way to deal with small-town beat cops and how to play the system to his advantage. Dean was able to walk away from the whole mess after he convinced the cops he was rushing a local frat and the breaking and entering was part of a pledge dare. Dad never said anything, but Adam could tell that he was proud that Dean was able to get himself out of the mess without Dad having to go in and pull the FBI card, which is what he'd told Adam was the next step. Dad didn't like having to use his fake FBI credentials to do anything except get information on a case. He always said it wasn't worth the risk.
Adam sat down heavily on the bench and leaned against the wall, wondering just how long he might be stuck here. It was Saturday night at 7 pm. Dean was probably already at a bar, already drunk and already eyeing the local merchandise. The chance that he'd check his phone and be able to come get his brother anytime soon was thin. Adam figured it would be Sunday at lunch before Dean sobered up enough to realize Adam hadn't been around. Jesus, Dad would kill Dean if he knew about any of this.
Not only would John Winchester be royally pissed at having to pick up his youngest from a police station, but Adam knew he'd be beyond livid at Dean's current state. Dad always talked about how important it was to be aware of your surroundings at all times, how critical it was that you keep your head clear so that nothing ever got the jump on you. Adam thought Dad's whole lecture was pretty hypocritical, given how often Dad drank himself to sleep. But since he'd learned the hard way that bringing up Dad's drinking ended with him not being able to sit for days, Adam kept his mouth shut. About Dad's drinking and about Dean's.
Adam sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair, pulling at the strands. He felt like such a dumbass for getting caught. Dad had taught him better than his, Dean too. Being too hungry made him distracted. He vowed that next time he picked a place to dine and dash he wouldn't let himself get so hungry that he made mistakes. He'd have to be more careful about the whole situation if he was going to be able to keep it hidden. The last thing he wanted was for Dad to find out about Dean's drinking binges. Dad never minded letting Dean or even Sam have a beer after a hunt. Hell, Dean was 22 now and went out to bars regularly, on his own and with Dad. Although it had never been said, Adam instinctively knew that Dad wouldn't stand for the blackout- binge drinking that Dean was doing this week. Not only was it dangerous as a hunter, but as a father, there was no way he'd let it slide, no matter how torn up Dean was or how often Dad dealt with his own emotions in the same way.
Adam hoped Dean would get past whatever this was soon. He missed his brother. He missed both of them actually. But it was harder to sit by and watch Dean transform from the responsible, kind, older brother he'd come to know back into the standoffish, sullen asshole he'd first met when he was 12.
In the months since Sam left Adam and Dean had fought more often than they ever had before. They'd never realized just how important Sam's presence was to their relationship. Sam had told Adam before he left that he thought Adam and Dean were more alike than not, and that fact seemed to be kicking them both in the ass. Without Sam to mediate, the two most reckless Winchesters would argue until their fights became physical and wouldn't quit throwing punches until they saw blood. Unfortunately for Adam, he was still 8 years younger than Dean so it was usually his blood that was splattered across the motel rug.
Of course, most of the time Dean was still Dean so he felt pretty bad about roughing Adam up, even if he 'deserved it' (which he totally did not). So after a brawl, there would be a begrudging peace between them for a while. They tried to keep their fights from Dad, each knowing that while Dad supported sparring and practice fighting, he sure as hell drew the line at his boys beating the snot out of each other.
Adam stood up from the cold metal bench and started to wander around the cell, looking around at the other tan cement walls to see if there was a clock anywhere.
Of course there wasn't.
At least he wasn't hungry anymore, so that particular problem had been solved. He definitely had some bigger ones now though.
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Adam couldn't tell if time without a clocked moved slower or faster, but he was betting on slower since it seemed to be forever before the cop who had picked him up from the restaurant came back.
"How you doing kid?" he asked, his keys jingling as he unlocked the cell door.
"Ok," Adam said, having jumped up from the bench the moment the officer was visible.
"Let's go try your brother again huh?" he said, returning his heavy hand to Adam's shoulder.
Adam was led back to the bullpen and again to the plain brown desk and chair. Again he was given the ugly beige phone and slowly dialed Dean's cell number.
And again it rang.
And rang.
And rang.
And with each ring, Adam's heart sank a little more.
Come on Dean, he thought. Come on!
Adam needed Dean now. Actually really needed him. So many times Dean was there when Adam didn't even want him: hovering after school, shadowing him too close during a hunt. Why couldn't he be around now?
Adam didn't leave a message this time, hanging up the phone and looking up to the officer who was leaning against the desk.
"He didn't pick up," Adam said, trying to conceal the hurt and annoyance in his voice.
"Hmm…" the cop said, looking down at his watch. "It's almost shift change. I was really hoping to have you out of here before now."
Adam looked over at the clock on the wall, noting that it was nearly 10:30 at night. Yeah, there was no way he was gonna get in touch with his brother now.
The officer sighed, causing Adam to look back at him. Adam watched the cop's face as he looked around the bullpen, contemplating something.
"I guess we don't have a choice but to keep you here until someone shows," he said, looking down at Adam sadly.
Adam could feel the officer's opinion of him shifting. He was no longer 'normal-teen-with-bad-friends', but was becoming 'troubled-teen-with-no-one-to-look-out-for-him'. Great. Adam would have liked to keep the 'dumb-normal-kid' shtick going for as long as possible, because as easy as it was for him to play 'troubled-teen' the role hit too close to home and he really didn't wanna have to try to cry in front of this guy.
"Here," the cop said, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen from the desk, "Write down your brother and your Dad's number and I'll have Charlie keep calling. He's on the overnights, so he'll come check on you too,"
"You mean I've gotta go back to that cell?" Adam asked, unable to hide the despair in his voice.
"Sorry kid, we don't really have anywhere else,"
"You could just let me go," Adam said, trying his hand, "I've learned my lesson. Really."
The officer looked down at him, tilting his head to study Adam. "Sorry kid, but I get the feeling you are on the edge of a bad road. So if spending the night here and talking to your father will keep you off it, that's what we are gonna do,"
"It was one mistake, sir. One. You can let me go. I promise I will pay the owner and work for him however much he wants. I won't go down a bad road," Adam tried, looking up at the man with the most innocent, pleading eyes he could manage.
"This is for your own good son," the cop said, taking Adam's arm and lifting him from the seat.
'For your own good, son', jeez…that sounds familiar, Adam thought with a scowl.
A/N- Sorry for the long delay between chapters! Just waiting for inspiration to strike :) Hope you enjoyed this one- got a part 2 for this one shot in the works... who comes to get poor Adam? What happens if no one gets the message!?