Chapter One
Four Years Later

"So, what's the story?" asked Dean, opening the Impala's door and getting in. He handed Sam's burger to him and then unwrapped his, biting into it hungrily. "Mm, this is amazing," he declared, mouth full and voice muffled.

Sam spared him a look of disgust before beginning to unwrap his burger. "Strange occurrences," he began, but was cut off by Dean.

"Ain't that the story of our lives," grumbled the elder Winchester. Grinning at Sam's look of irritation, he said, "Go on, Sammy."

The nickname eased some of Sam's annoyance, and he said, "Two women electrocuted last week while one of them was plugging in the toaster. Her roommate tried to help her, but got electrocuted too. Then a middle-aged man who collects insurance premiums around here – electrocuted when he switched on his TV."

"So... angry spirit?" guessed Dean, thankfully with his food in his stomach where it belonged.

"I think so, yeah," agreed Sam. "Definitely seems like it."

"Any links between the vics, any possible suspect?" questioned Dean, beginning on his French fries.

"Well, no links between the vics, but I got a suspect," Sam told him. "Marlon Lipton, born 1958, died 1988 of – guess what. Electrocution."

"I'm guessing it wasn't an accident," Dean said, chewing noisily.

"You revolt me," Sam stated, pulling the Why-Does-God-Let-You-Live bitchface.

Dean grinned. "Aw, love you too, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes before resuming his story. "Yeah, it wasn't an accident. He'd been cheating on his wife, who happened to be pretty good at electronics. She tinkered a little with the outlets in the house, then stepped back and watched as he burned after plugging the radio in."

"Brutal," commented Dean, shoving another handful of fries in his mouth and grinning at Sam's nauseated expression. "What happened to her?"

"Guilt," Sam replied simply. "She went mad. Died in the local asylum."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "So we got a cheating bastard, an angry wife who offs him and then goes insane and dies in a looney bin."

Sam pulled a face at Dean's less-than-pleasant choice of words. "To put it shortly... yes."

"This should be easy," decided Dean. "Where's the old bastard buried?"

It wasn't the salt-and-burn that got to them. That was a very simple job that they were done with in under an hour, with minimal injuries from Mr. Pissy Adulterer. It was what happened on their way back from their job that shook them.

"Man, I'm beat," announced Dean, turning the music up a little higher. "I call first shower."

"Don't you always," griped Sam.

"Well yeah, 'cause I'm the big brother," Dean said casually. "We'll stay here overnight and leave this dump in the rearview mirror by tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan," Sam answered wearily. His arms were aching. Fucking asshole had to be buried under six feet of rain-wet dirt.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean asked in concern, noting the way Sam leaned back against the seat with his eyes closed.

"I'm fine," Sam answered. "Keep your eyes on the road or you'll kill us both."

Dean scoffed, but did so nevertheless. "I'm wounded, Sammy. I expected you to have a little more faith in my driving."

"You drive like a drunk banshee," was Sam's instant retort.

"Yeah well, you drive like a stoned Wendigo," shot back Dean, grinning. He'd missed the bantering with his brother. The tension of the trials and staying alive hadn't let them be themselves in quite a long time. The simple hunt had been just what they needed to get back to being themselves.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

They smiled at each other for a second, before Sam straightened again and began looking outside the window.

Five minutes later he let out a strangled gasp, startling the hell out of Dean and almost causing the Impala to kiss a tree. "What the hell, Sam?" questioned Dean angrily, getting the car back on track.

"Dean, go back!" Sam said urgently, looking panicked. "You've got to go back, Dean, now!"

"What is it, Sam?" asked Dean, in gentler tones this time. Sam was clearly agitated, and not many things got his brother worked up.

"Go back now, Dean, please!"

Obliging, Dean began scanning the road and the brush lining it on both sides, wondering what had startled his brother. He saw nothing, until a few seconds later when–

"Holy crap, Sam!"

He braked hard and flung the door open, Sam doing the same on the other side. They ran into the bushes at the side of the road, in the direction of the thing they'd both spotted. Both of their heartbeats had sped up, and Sam could feel rising tension mount inside him. By his side, Dean was cursing under his breath.

They both stopped short.

There, sitting in the bushes, looking like a freaking caveman, sat their little brother, staring up at them with confused eyes. Adam Milligan looked up at his older brothers, eyeing them with caution.

"What – how – is it really you?" Sam's voice was barely a whisper.

"Let's find out, shall we," Dean muttered in answer. He extracted his flask of holy water from inside his jacket and, without asking for permission, sprinkled a few drops on Adam, who didn't move. Next Dean tried borax, and then he knelt down and grabbed Adam's arm, making a small incision with his pocket knife. It was then that Adam reacted.

He moved his arm away and looked at Dean reproachfully. "Ow," he said, glaring. Despite the situation Sam repressed the urge to laugh at the petulant expression.

"Guess it really is you," Dean finally concluded, standing again.

"Do you remember us?" asked Sam softly.

Adam nodded. "Sam and Dean," he answered, his tone just as soft. "My brothers."

"How'd you get out?" demanded Dean. Now that the preliminaries were over and it was established that this was Adam, he was beginning to get suspicious. Who, or what, was controlling him?

"I don't know," Adam replied. With some difficulty he got to his feet, wincing. "Can we just go somewhere else, please? It's uncomfortable here," he added.

"Sure," said Sam before Dean could reply. "Come on, we'll take you to the car."

Ignoring the glare Dean sent him, Sam led the way. Once Adam was in the street, the light threw his appearance into sharp perspective. His blond hair was so dirty it looked brown, and there were little cuts and scratches all over every inch of skin that was exposed. His clothes were torn and ripped, and he looked starved.

"What happened to you?" asked Dean, forgetting to be suspicious.

"I've been here for some time," Adam told him. "I don't know how I got here," he added in answer to Sam's questioning look. "I just kinda woke up here. That was a week ago, I think."

Sam nodded. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said, and gestured towards the car. Looking grateful, Adam got into the backseat.

"Sam, what are you doing?" hissed Dean.

"He's our brother, Dean," Sam said. "We can't just leave him here."

"Sam, look at him. He was in the Cage with you, and he doesn't look like it at all."

"Maybe he has a Wall, too."

"I doubt it."

"Look, let's just get him cleaned up and then we can interrogate him, all right?" When Dean still looked uncertain, Sam added in his softest tone, "He's our brother, Dean."

As if Dean needed reminding.

Glaring at Sam, he nodded and said, "All right. But be careful."

Sam nodded and got into the car, shutting the door a split second before Dean did. He started the car and without a word, began driving.

Sam turned in his seat to speak to Adam, only to find him fast asleep with his head against the rear right window. Smiling a little – the boy looked worn out – Sam turned back to the front.

"I sure hope I don't act so girly when I look at you," snarked Dean. "Honestly, what are you, his sister?"

"Don't be a hypocrite, you act like my mother," Sam retaliated with a grin.

Dean snorted and continued driving. "Seriously, though," he said after five minutes. "What are the odds? Him turning up right where we were, right on the road we were taking..."

"I don't know," sighed Sam. "I agree, it's strange. But he's our brother, Dean, and we've got to take care of him. Everything else can come later."

"I know, Sammy," Dean said, his tone softening somewhat. "But we've got to be careful. It's suspicious, how he ended up here, how he's here at all and not in Lucifer's happy home, I mean, how do we know he's not being controlled?"

"We don't," admitted Sam. "We'll just have to risk it."

"Why?" wondered Dean.

"Because we're family," Sam reminded him. "You're the one who taught me that."

"Dammit Sam, I did not mean for you to turn my own words on me," Dean grouched.

"What do you want to do, just leave him there?" retorted Sam.

"Of course not," replied Dean. "I'm just saying... we've got to be careful."

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

They woke him at the motel. He bolted up and looked around wildly, before recognizing them and relaxing. As for Sam – he thought he recognized the few signs of remembering Hell.

But that shadow was soon gone from Adam's face, and he was looking at Dean blearily. "Whassup?" he asked.

"We're here," was Dean's gruff answer. "Come on, then, get out of the car."

They managed to get him inside their room without anyone seeing. Dean spared the beds a longing glance before he seated Adam on one of them and then ran an appraising eye over him. "All right, so it's just cuts and scratches?"

Adam nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay, good," Dean said. "Now, I've got a few clothes in the back. I'm not giving you anything of mine, but I guess if you fold the sleeves etc. Sam's will fit you fine. Nice and loose. That okay?"

"Why can't I have some of yours? You're a closer fit," pointed out Adam.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Because, Princess, only I wear my own clothes."

"What about Sam?"

"Nah," said Dean dismissively. "Sam's too much of a bleeding heart to say no."

Sam glared at Dean, who just grinned peevishly. "What? It's true."

After Adam showered they began cleaning his injuries and bandaging the larger ones. The boy was lucky there was no infection, what with the way he'd been roaming around for a week with open cuts. Sam and Dean stuck Band-aids everywhere, and then gave him a couple of antibiotic pills to drive off any potential infection.

There was something strangely intimate about cleaning someone's wounds. Sam and Dean had discovered that with each other, but over time the feeling of intruding in someone else's personal bubble soon wore off. Besides, with Sam and Dean, there wasn't any personal bubble anyway.

With Adam it was a completely different story. While Dean kept his work quick and professional, he didn't miss the tenderness with which Sam did it. The boy, for his part, just sat there quietly and watched them work, looking as if he was in deep thought. Dean figured it was just as strange for him as it was for them.

"You gonna be okay?" asked Dean, when they were done. He was in desperate need of a shower, and so was Sam – they'd both noticed how Adam had scrunched his nose up when they were close enough for the boy to smell them.

Adam shrugged. "I guess so. We're staying here tonight?"

"Yeah," Sam told him. "Tomorrow morning we'll check out and head back to base."

"Where's that?" asked Adam.

"Kansas," Dean answered. He handed the first-aid kit to Sam and said, "Here, put this back in my bag, and I'll go shower."

Sam nodded. When Dean had gone he turned back to Adam and asked, "You hungry?"

Adam nodded. "Famished," he answered.

"All right, let's go get something to eat," Sam said. "Dean!" he called. "We're getting some food!"

"Just be careful with my car!" Dean yelled back.

"Come on," Sam said to Adam, putting on his jacket. He fished another one from his bag and threw it to Adam. "Tomorrow on the way we'll get you some new clothes, too."

Adam nodded. "Okay. Thanks," he added as an afterthought.

Sam gave him a half-smile. "Don't thank me, this is what brothers do."

A shadow crossed Adam's face, one that wasn't missed by Sam. However it was gone as soon as it had come, and Adam nodded again. Deciding to pretend it had never happened, Sam led the way out of the motel room.

"So, Adam," Sam said, once they were in the car. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," answered Adam, looking outside the window.

"Are you sure?" pressed Sam. "I mean, if there's anything that's bothering you, anything you want to tell us, anything at all..." he trailed off.

"I told you, I'm fine," snapped Adam so suddenly that it shocked Sam into silence. "Don't act like you're all concerned. Let's just get the damn food and go home."

The rest of the trip was spent in tense silence, with Sam's heart lodged in his throat and his eyes burning.

Dean looked up from Sam's computer to see Adam stomp in, kick his shoes off and climb into the bed Dean had picked for himself. He dragged the sheets over himself and without bothering to say anything turned on his side and went to sleep.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked Sam, who looked miserable.

"I don't know," Sam answered. "I just asked him if he was okay, and he just... reacted."

Dean looked at Adam once more, and then back at Sam, who looked hurt. "Relax, Sammy. He's just probably still feeling the after-effects of the Cage."

"I just wanted to know if he was okay," Sam said in a small voice, sitting across from Dean and handing him his food.

"I know, Sammy, it's okay," consoled Dean. He began unwrapping his burger, and then watched incredulously as Sam started on his salad. "Dude. Seriously. Ever heard of real food?"

Sam looked at Dean with the Oh-my-God-Dean-Don't-Be-Such-a-Jerk bitchface. "This is perfectly real," he argued. "And what are you doing on my computer anyway?"

Dean looked sheepish. "I was, well, I was sort of–"

"Forget it, I don't want to know," Sam declared. He got up and put his half-eaten salad in the small fridge and then sat back down. "Well, we now have a new problem at hand."

"What?" asked Dean, his mouth full.

"Honestly, anyone would think you'd never seen food before," opined Sam, looking disgusted. "Are you quite sure it was Mom and Dad who raised you and not apes?"

"Yes I'm sure, bitch," answered Dean, swallowing. "What were you saying?"

In reply Sam gestured towards Dean's bed, with the sleeping Adam in it. Dean shrugged. "I don't see what the problem is, you can sleep on the floor."

"Why should I sleep on the floor?" protested Sam. "It's your bed he's on."

"Because I'm older, that's why," Dean informed Sam.

Sam snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Well, I'm not sharing," announced Dean.

"We don't have any other choice," Sam said, looking resigned. "It's too cold for anyone to sleep on the floor."

"Come on, Sam!" Dean was indignant.

"You know I'm right," Sam said, bitchfacing Dean again.

"Ugh, I hate you," grumbled Dean. He finished the last of his burger and balled up the wrapper, throwing it into the bin in the far corner of the room. Then he looked at Sam and said, quite vehemently, "Fine, then. Bitch," he added as an afterthought.

Lying in bed squashed uncomfortably against Dean's side half an hour later, Sam said, "Dean?"

"What?" grumbled Dean, shifting in an attempt to get comfortable and accidentally kicking Sam.

"Ow! Jerk!" he complained, kicking him back.

"Bitch!" Dean retorted, with a retaliating kick.

"Shut up!" Kick.

"You shut up!" Kick.

"I hate you."Kick.

"No you don't. You were saying?" Kick.

With a final elbow in Dean's ribs, Sam said, "What do we do, Dean? He's clearly upset."

"Ya think?" Dean answered sarcastically, earning himself another jab in the ribs. "Bitch... yeah. Listen. This isn't going to be easy. That doesn't mean we'll give up on him. You know that."

"Yeah... but Dean," whispered Sam, finally settling curled on his side, facing Dean. "What if he blames us?"

Dean was silent for a while. He looked at Sam's serious and worried face, illuminated by the moonlight filtering in through the window, and finally said, "Well, I wouldn't blame him if he did."

Sam sighed. "I know. I wouldn't, either. But then he'd also think we don't care. And that isn't true."

"I don't know, Sam," Dean said. "It's been four years, and we never looked for him, once."

"I did," Sam admitted. He looked at Dean, his brow furrowed. "While you were gone, I figured if I couldn't find you, I could at least try to look for Adam. At least I knew where he was. I looked into as many books as I could find, to see if there was a way to get him out. There wasn't."

There was another silence, before Dean said, "You never told me that."

"I guess it just slipped my mind," Sam said. "There's been so much going on."

"Yeah... listen, Sammy, don't blame yourself." Dean looked Sam in the eyes, making sure his point was being understood. "It wasn't your fault at all. It was mine, if anything."

"No it wasn't," Sam answered at once. "There's nothing you could have done either."

"Sammy–" began Dean, but Sam cut him off.

"No," he said firmly. "Don't, Dean. If I'm not supposed to blame myself, you're not either."

"Okay, Sammy," said Dean, giving in, though he wasn't entirely convinced. "You planning on getting any sleep before we head for the Batcave tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Sam said, looking determined to continue the conversation some other time. "Good night, Dean." He turned to face the other way.

"Good night, Sammy," Dean said, before closing his eyes and drifting off.

Well the boys are clearly going to have trouble with Adam... and Adam's not exactly A-1 either. Any thoughts, concerns, feedback, plans to take over the world, anything? Review and tell me :D

ALSO THEY BETTER BRING ADAM BACK BEFORE THEY CLOSE THE GATES OF HELL I MEAN HELLO WHATEVER HAPPENED TO FAMILY THEIR FREAKING BROTHER IS STUCK IN THE FREAKING CAGE

Yeah sorry, didn't mean to rant, it just... happened.

Anyway, reviewers get to take the Impala for a test drive.

-Peace x